PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

Alone,aboard sitting in the boat at country side,seeing many eyes

staring at a purple sky like a learned baby,some with looks like poor kittens

i could neither know nor say xplanation given by their tired looks

Just like that of when heaven passes his messages with rumbling

if I,They should know the reasons why such momentum,a meaning to what day c'ld tell

They are no meaning in what the sense could search

but they are still much in what it could know about

if the matter of what the mess tells the spinning of a country where a few skite the baloons over the many eating all,saving remaining means,nor for others to douse ageing thirsts the suffering,pains,pinches of penury infected souls of masses could that be a game of false dicing by rays of heaven? seemingly the hungry men would have their fates not bright but skiened the wave of tide sad glad flows onwards but xpect to be soon offwards or outwards inwards will count many tink tank of racing shadows of angry rebels there no freakers but fricturers that mourn the rotten riots,hope and hour or hope or hour a mixmood,tears that batter the face to swollen sore no hope nor shape for figurine statue as conscience has no topic in their minds