Deceitful Emotions – Poem

I do not believe in friendship but I believe in true love. I have been assured friendship does not exist – way too many lessons I have learned. But how can I stop believing in existing love if I have got my whole life in front of me?


Relationship and friendships.

Love, hate, anger.

Silly emotions.

Pointless and endless.

Lack of understanding.

Lack of sympathy.

Lack of desire.

Selfish and cocky.

Respectful only of oneself.

Mummy – Poem

The mummy came into my dreams

With open arms awaiting my charms

With repaired soul and decayed body

He came to take me wholly.


There were ten bodies placed in a circle

In white bags their bodies were eternal

Millennia was presented

In a crypt most disorientated.


Image was found on

Clowns – Poem

Dreadful people

With fake smiles on their faces

Miserable souls

With the task of entertaining children.


Put a wig on, draw a smile

And there you have

A career as a clown

With the task of entertaining children.


Some have failed

By visiting children’s most sacred fears

Sneak up on scared adults

Violating that career path.


Photo found on

Past – Poem

Sins of my heart

Thoughts in my head

Unfamiliar bodies in my hands

What was I supposed to hold on?


Sins were too irresistible

Thoughts were too compelling

Those bodies too attractive

I wasn’t seeing what I was holding.


Mistakes were made

Sins were forgiven

And thoughts were forgotten

What I was holding on was just a silhouette.


All that in the past

When there is no past

Today is past

And even tomorrow will be past.

Morals – Poem

Morals and right doings

Where is left and where is right

What is black and what is white

People like telling you

How to act, what to say and who to look at

What made you think you can do that?

Have you never done wrong or never had a bad thought?

Preach and teach

Not to kiss and tell

Not to run away

Or keep a secret

Moralised by priests and priestesses

The journey of life never ends

Not a step aside could be made

Neither a different road could be taken

What to eat and how to think

In whom we can believe

And to whom we should pray

Who gave you that task and said all you do is right?

Absolutely Nothing

I love this poem… It makes so much sense. In a world where we seek approval and love, all we get is an empty bed full of sorrows.


Once on a yellow piece of paper with green lines

he wrote a poem

And he called it ‘Chops’

because that was the name of his dog

And that’s what it was all about

And his teacher gave him an A

and a gold star

And his mother hung it on the kitchen door

and read it to his aunts

That was the year Father Tracy

took all the kids to the zoo

And he let them sing on the bus

And his little sister was born

with tiny toenails and no hair

And his mother and father kissed alot

And the girl around the corner sent him a

Valentine signed with a row of X’s

and he had to ask his father what the X’s meant

And his father always tucked him in bed at night

And was always there to do it.
Once on a piece of…

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The Knock of Death – Poem

What’s life?

We are born with so much pain simply to live.

We grow – healthy or ill.

We live – happy or sad.

We fall in love – to lose a part of us

Or to connect with another missing part.


And we die.

Death always made me sad.

Death always made me cry.

Death always confused me.


What is it, it wants?

Does it have any satisfaction?

Is it becoming more powerful with each body it takes?

Is every soul part of something?

Does the shadow go somewhere?




I want to follow it.

I cannot believe it.

I do not want to imagine it.

I do not want to live with the thought of death

Coming knocking on my door.


My body sore.

It hurts because the death took your body.

I lost the smell of you.

The death took you somewhere.

Is it now the time to talk about heaven and hell?

Emotional Trash – Three Line Tales

I am not a 24/7 feelings basket where you can share and humiliate; swear and flatter; remember and forget whenever you would like to do so. Forget that motel room, that night.

My services are not for you to play with, to reject and ask for whenever you need them to be or not to be. Forget the person who was always there for you, always available, always ready to commit.

That motel room is now occupied by other strangers. That night has come to an end. That person is all gone and she’s got no intentions of ever coming back just to serve your selfish soul.

Three Line Tales

Trace – Poem

Brush your fingers over my skin

Do you feel the roughness of it, yes, just over there?

Do you see the scar that was left behind?

It wasn’t just part of my imagination

I knew it was real because a scar was left behind.


Move your lips through my eyes

Do you taste how salty they are?

Do you see the traces that were left behind?

It wasn’t just an illusion

I knew tears have fallen because salty trace was left behind.