In nakedness

There is vulnerability in nakedness

And there is strength, power, and shame

 

There is grace and disgrace

There is a catch, a chase

 

In nakedness, there are geometrical shapes

 

And there is passion and love

Crime, art, and pain

 

There is a moment, a story

Courage, ecstasy, and glory

 

In nakedness, there is a false and destructive theory

 

There is a blame and game

A propaganda lame

 

In nakedness

There is freedom and truth

 

In nakedness, there is nature and god.

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Wounded tongue

They have hurt my tongue so much

That now it is scared to speak

 

And my mouth resists from opening

Embarrassed, that the scabs and the wounds might show

That I can still taste on my tongue,

which avoids speaking anymore

 

For it might not speak at all

But bleed, in the color they would not understand;

 

And yet my mind, reckless

Ego-centric, and proud

Will not keep from birthing thoughts,

 

That like the beasts of the wilderness

Purge from their caves, burrows, and nests

to chase and hunt their prey,

 

In the form of ink

Will poison hearts and souls, as they feed on them,

with vicious serenity.

 

 

 

Beautiful for you

I know I am beautiful.

Haven’t you ever looked at my profile picture?

You ignorant fool!

Haven’t you seen my beautiful eyes?

The curvy lashes blackened with mascara

and the blue lenses that hide the blackness in my eyes,

My powdered cheeks and my delicate nose

I just got it done up,

“a little push upwards would make it glamorous”

my doctor had said,

and the story of my rosy lips is famous all over the world

Can’t you see the natural pout I have got?

I am beautiful you know,

the most beautiful girl in the world.

And how is my body?

the silicon pride with which my breasts are puffed

Isn’t the cleavage grand?

I know you like looking at them

that is why I got them

and my nearing zero size hips

I have starved enough to get them,

and what about my tight, round ass

don’t you admire the curve?

when I move in my Zara pants

and my feet, well I haven’t done anything with my feet

I left them natural and the heels do the trick.

Then I have filtered all the imperfections left

thanks to the camera in my smartphone

to elevate my beauty, to make known

as I once knew, that I am beautiful

and I am beautiful now,

I am beautiful for you.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Hello! I am Fine

 

 

They call me every day

My mother, my father

My friends and sometimes, even my foes;

 

They want to check on me

they say,

They want to know what I am up to?

 

But when I answer their calls

I do not know what to say

I have nothing to talk about

 

And when they ask me

How am I doing,

I often tell the truth and sometimes I lie

 

But the answer is always the same

I tell that I am fine.

Father and the Boy or (Ah ah aah yeah!)

Father, father no, don’t do this to me

Come, come my child, I am your father

Come give it to me,

No, no, father, I am only seven you see

Come, come here, lord’s home is where you should be,

And I am here too!

Come let me thrust some blessing into you,

Ah ah aah yeah! Jerk a little more my boy,

I’m your father after all, don’t be so coy

Aah aah, ah yeah! The father came with a burst of joy,

Don’t tell anyone of the secret blessing

I have bestowed on you, you boy!

And come again when I call

Father asked the child,

The blessed boy bled from the strike of spear

But did come again to father in fear,

And did so until he was fifteen,

For the father had stopped blessing him anymore,

He loved kids below sixteen.

Pretty Marry or ( Spear of Destiny)

Pretty Marry, pretty pretty she was
Failed to meet a good old man,
In the world of woes and bane
Pretty lost she was.

Pretty Pretty Marry
She did all she could
Tried to drown her pain in whiskey
Smoked rings to let out the worry.

Last when I saw her
She was singing a song about love
Her skin showed scratches and punctured veins
Her stained teeth smiled through lips pale.

Her crimson eyes and swollen lids told her story,
And she looked, not like she did before
Pretty Marty’s pretty face
Wasn’t pretty, and her body, had lost its grace.

Pretty Marry pretty poor and pitiful she was
Last time I saw her, she was dead in an alley
Then I was young, today I am aged
Scratched, stained, and punctured, by the spear of destiny.