Que Sera Sera

Would I keep loving in many years to come,

Would we separate, to avoid our flirtous wings get too close?

If we should find ourselves like a pair of unwanted ogres

Would we continue to make love, loose ourselves in repose?


Question without answers, they haunt our minds,

What ever will be shall be….que sera, sera……

I don’t want to cry on unwarranted questions,

My dear do not son or you smudge your maskara.


We will keep loving each, that is if we try,

As your head rests on my weary shoulder;

At the back of your mind you question yourself’

While I discover that our faces became much older.


Question without answers, they haunt our minds,

Que sera, sera……What ever will be shall be….

Surely we don’t know what will happen to us,

Maybe I will kill you ort you might murder me.


As Cold As Ice

She laid still,

looking so beautiful than ever;

why do I cry for you?

You feel as cold as ice......


In death,

I kissed your icy face for the last time;

I sob for the warmth you possessed......


The Pain Died So Kind

a stone hurled,

a broken glass;

as is my heart,

shattered by pain

a cheating arrow shot;

hitting the compassion vein.


Love stumbled upon my mind,

the fragments still unremoved;

the pain died so kind.


A black void,

hoping my broken heart be mended,

though my sexual acts became unemployed.


She is attractive,

Enchanting and magnetic;

Her body captivating,

More aver entrancing and charismatic.


The artist gives her the pose,

Nakedly she stands motionless;

There are no sexual innuendos,

Both working emotionless.


His concentration absolved

Her fame shall be resolved



In my arrogant opinion,

I am tired of the idiots' dominion;

They do not abide by the laws,

I wish I had some long claws.


In my arrogant opinion,

The curse of religion;

Their substance is false;

That’s what I believe of course.


In my arrogant opinion,

Avoid clumsiness and make a decision;

Not wise to wait for tomorrow,

The world becomes filled with sorrow.


In my arrogant opinion,

Populations in chagrin;

No, they say for many things,

This is me, a poet's imaginings.