The Race

 Some seldom speak about it

Perhaps scared of rebuke 

For life, somehow, is meant 

To be lived in misery 

As to why, nobody knows 

Yet its crystal clear that all 

Good things are immoral 

And often test man's quest for immortality

Spare Me

 Spare me the gallows, guillotines 

Spare me rebukes, castigations

For I dared to live life with a big spoon 

For I promise solemnly, I would still do it again 

Just give me that chance 

And I won't disappoint you on this 

Suffering Enemies

 All my enemies are suffering 

And I, too, is suffering

Freedom

 I'll sip my whiskey tonight 

Tomorrow, and the day after 

Then I'll write as freely 

as the thoughts flow 

I'll sail, as a piece of paper 

in a whirlwind 

Unbothered by the destination 

For I have sought freedom 

but only found solace in a bottle, 

brown, colorless, blinding - whatever

He Gave Up

 He gave up on us

And we can't forgive him, 

But not because of giving up, 

He gave up haphazardly,

and for a man, 

as grand as he was,

that was unforgivable

When Stars Align

 There was no reason for you to come 

But you showed - all showered and dressed up- 

I know the effort of even getting out of bed,

especially when you don't have to 

But you showed up and even smiled 

When stars align on my end, I'll do the same for you 

I hope you'll still be there, waiting 

For the hero inside me to slay me and take charge 

No Muse

 The trees dance,

The river rambles along 

The birds chirp,

Their usual merry unhibited,

The bees move from flower to flower,

searching for sweetness

A cool breeze flows by

And the poet can't think - 

can't conjure up anything of beauty,

or remarkable adoration 

or unrequited love as poets are fond of,

And there flies a butterfly 

A yellow butterfly. Colorful 

It flies away, like a moodless poet's muse