The Countryside.......

Fragrance of a thousand lilies, 
Wafting through the air,
Hovering wasps with bulging bellies, 
Hum and they don't care,

Swaying with the biting zephyr, 
Ears of corn they sing,
And I dance away with great fervour, 
And gladness it does bring!

O'er the rounded rocks, 
Gurgles past the healing river,
A silent assassin does lurk, 
Big eyes, gave him the giver,

And in the overgrown thickets, 
Slithers past the fanged beast,
And with the music of the crickets, 
It gathers up a feast!

Down came the sweet showers, 
Feeding rain as some say,
Dance and sing the young lovers, 
All their worries at bay,

The intoxicating smell of soil, 
Rises into the grey sky,
Rewards all the sweat and toil, 
And the farmers they cry!

Calm pleasant and serene, 
Is my countryside,
All joyous, all humane, 
Till the green horizon wide,

With all the humming hornets, 
And all the singing birds,
There'll be my last nest, 
I'll sleep, amidst drowning words.......

The Struggle.....

Gettin' back at the bastards again,
All my confidence I regain,
Maybe it's wrong, Maybe it's right,
I don't give a damn, I'll fight,
Tears and emotions may overflow,
I can't cry, Can't bow low,
Then come frustration and knowledge of fear,
But it'll be done for my near n dear,
Runnin' to the bottomless abyss,
Cries of agony and scatterin' like mice,
On the putrid winds I'll fly,
Over the mountains, But I don't know why,
Like a metal spear on a broken heart,
I'll pounce down to whom I lost,
Bruised and broken, As I many seem,
A sentimental fool, When I dream,
Emoting the bruises deep within,
Waiting for the tears to sink in,
But 'Grrr...' roars the lion inside,
And 'Pow!' scatters the nimble outside,
See, How fickle is the mind,
Changes rise above the sands of time,
And there come the bastards again,
Tryin' to wash their sins benign,
And weak, as we maybe now,
But strong are the feelings, How
are we goin' to hold our kin,
Close to our heart, without sin,
Definitely time for a revolution,
Motivation, Attribution and Retribution.......

Innocent Musings

I said, let there be gloom,
Let me believe cows jumping over the moon,
Of crystal balls n Santa Claus,
I hold little tid-bits I cherish,
And then, a funeral passes by,
Brings all the lies and I cry.

Smitten by sights near and dear,
And transparent ghosts I fear,
You say, to err is human,
Let me do what I care!
Let me do a little good turn,
For, it maybe the time to burn.

From straight down inside I pretend,
To be the one I adore, Lament,
when the river of sorrows bursts,
And in Him, let me trust,
Short, as maybe my time,
But let me strive and make it rhyme!

For,Who knows, it maybe the swansong,
For all the right maybe all the wrong!