This loneliness in me,
Drives on production to see,
Free associations and lure,
The passing temptation in amiss.
Crossroads is what I represent,
My sentiment on a paved code of memories,
And truths that shape the illusion with realities.
Relentless in motion... my journey is social to,
The hitchers hand that comes through...
A breath of life on the ramblers highway.
This emptiness at spree,
Dives in suggestion to be,
Three expectations and cure,
The glassing emotion in a kiss:
The tall and proud question of my trust,
Pitching thumbs up for a cause just,
Where I free-fully chose to adjust.
The short and stout ingestion of my mirror,
Pitching thumbs up for a clause superior,
Where I gleefully prose my interior.
The grand and bold projection of my time,
Pitching thumbs up for a pause prime,
Where I forcefully close my crime.
This loneliness in me,
Drives on production to see,
Free associations and pure,
The crossing emotion in a bless.
Boundless in notion... the journal is spatial to,
The hitchers stance that flushes through...
A death of strife for the gamblers privy.
Nairobi, February 22,2012
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem