I’ve come to make peace with my soul
Alas! My soul do not listen to his own soul
The seagulls soulful are flying away in the pensive mood
Three scattered layers of sunshine are penetrating through the thick
layers of green triple fold
O I’ve come to make peace with my soul
Yet my soul do not heed to my clamouring lore
Too soon the moon came out pouring out the magical lure
Upon the wombs and tombstones of the prophets, poets known unknown
Death do not differentiate between rich and poor
All must die one day
All must decay to pay due
As a drop of dew dry out in pain pure, leaving behind none none to
roam, rue
The hue of the afternoon sky changes her color from pale to blue
I’ve come to make peace with who
I cannot see the presence of any known unknown
Only the dreary darkness do to undo
The dotted lines on the notebook suck deep the inky uproar
As the flint of my desire extinguishes before she even approaches the
love shore
I’ve come to make peace with my shadow
But the shadow fades as the sun sail away in haste
Leaving me standing face to face with the foolishness of my own
foolish self
I deny to be baptized in the holy water of Ganges
Ganges is too holy to be soiled with the sin of my unforgiveable
deeds, lament
The saints, the sages, the sadhus attend themselves to the invisible
flame of the faiths as the fairies in the weeds and opium sacrifice
the senses that the suttees sat upon to defame
I’ve come to make peace
Seven seas
Seven sin
Seven sylph sisters are sleeping with seals
The Norway killer gets 21 years for the killing of 69 people
Is this real, or is it a joke
Even if they had given him a year for every precious life that he
murdered it would be 69 years
The disgruntled worker shot and killed his boss near Empire State
Building in Manhattan, New York
I’m doing roving patrol on the parking lots of NJM
The air-conditioned unit is blasting away inside the white Dodge Van
Employees try to leave early on Friday to spend time with their
families, friends, and children
Only a few remain
They will all be gone by 7:30 pm
I wait outside in the big van
Keep my eyes open, and my senses alert and wide
Looking and logging down any odd unusual strange event, incidence
And it’s also tough to work under somebody when that person is 15
years younger than you, and basically a moron in the making
Equal job opportunity really do not occur in most of the sites
A bunch of idiots and morons are sitting at the top of the echelons
They made a guy site captain
And he doesn’t know how to read, write
There’s another idiot sharing my shift
He cries for anything trivial and little
He cannot decide anything on his own
He has to call the standby as what to do he sees anybody coughing or
taking a leak in the bush
This is how they lose the contract of a site
Due to the poor, inept, childish management of the branch manager
who’s also a dyke
I’ve come to make peace with the spirits of my forefathers who never
finished what they filmed
Thereby leaving me to be a fictitious freak
The furrowed fields of ripening fruits invite the insects and fruit-
flies to pollinate them with fruiting smile
The brook-trouts swim free below the billowy tide of Jersey’s lakes,
rivers, brooks
The violets blue green glee beside the tall firm red oak
While the horses are galloping upon the meadow gay green
And the honey-bees are collecting honey off the ripe receptacles of
the floral flutes
Groups of eastern goldfinch with beaks purple and feet of orange
yellow tint are feeding off the birds’ feed that the farmers and
pastors hung up from the stout branches of their old humble home
Yes I’ve come to make peace with the King of Hades
He who will unmake my soul with the sinning serpents of his breeding
And make me again to reclaim my place at Eden
After we die what happen
Where goes the dye of our bones and flesh
Does life recycle
Or is it a mere waste
A mystery in mystery
A shell in shell
Like the waves that roll with no will
Like the whir of a wing-span passing through the wind
Many a came
Many a went
Leaving behind the wealth of wealth
Material possession is only waste
The more you gather the more you lament
A grave is a grave place
None go there to sleep or rest
Decay sets in
Time makes dust out of dream
Make haste
Make merry
Make peace while you can sense or see
After you die there’s no beginning
After a while you turn into mist or mildew
Life goes on
So is death
War and peace
Seen unseen
Unseen seen
A drop of rain falls on her lips
Make peace
Make peace
The car in the snow skidded then hit the rail
Three dead
One paralyzed to the waist
The Irene with the fury of death wreaked havoc on men and machines,
uprooting the trees, tearing up the walls, chassis, and ceilings
A patches of dark ominous clouds have gathered up against the zenith
of the southern seal
The tsunamis are taking birth deep in the depthless seas
Land of milk
Land of honey
The Bedouin-women cook bread and porridge
The herds of camels are rushing home in slow pace as the shawl of
twilight descend softly upon the tips and tops of the dry desert dunes
The gypsy girl with thin lips and eyes like the Universe gets ready to
foretell the future, placing her ten fingers on the cold smooth
surface of the crystal ball of fear and tear
Must make peace with death
Life must end to make a new lace
Nothing get wasted
Nature hates emptiness
The black-hole engulfs light and darkness
What remained, besides the memory of your mindless mindful maze
Let me die
Let me die
Do not make me again
Stop this recycling cycle of life and death
Eyes get wide and diluted as the waves of orgasms rush through her
spines, veins, feet, nipples
She bites me in passionate taste
She shakes like a leaf caught in the hurricane
Warm love-liquid gush out of us love-caves
Make peace
Before it’s too late to resip the lips of the virgin with the lips of
my alcohol burnt, nicotine-tainted teeth
What you see you don’t see
What you seek you don’t seek
Everything is relative to every other thing
There’s no time or time
There’s no life or death
There’s Satan
There’s no Divine Presence
It’s all the imagination of your sick brains
Touching the earth, the earth reshape the shapes of the siren sheds
Live today
Tomorrow is a brand new day
Alas! I won’t be there to witness the dying death of a prince or
princess, maggot or mistake
By the time you finish reading this I’m evaporated
No place
Make peace
Before it’s too late
I’m the iris behind your eyelash
Your deep dark forbidden pleasure, clamoring in thy inner shelf!

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