In a fuzzy crowd!

So long since I have been able to keep my head strong
In the fuzzy crowd, I see a stranger, Asking for alms.
I buy him a ticket and hand him some money,
I hope he makes it home.
Inexplicably, comes a gust of feelings so hard,
Rejoicing I cannot contain myself,
Lucky I consider those who have the shelter,
With a protection to keep them forever.

Naught is what I have, looking for principles, I came to a climax
The world called them elders,
Some called them family,
Some called them fathers.

A patriarchal society one would call.
I feel an anchor,
That needs a reckon.
A guide, a rudder, a pilot.

Influences or inspirations,
I derive, in the way to give it back to them.
No hurt, no pain, no shame.
Happiness in their name.
An environment for them to breathe,
A park for them to stroll,
A garden to feel,
A memory to cherish,
A montage of life that they passed on.

I have seen shame in love,
No shame in violence though.
I have seen anger in hurt,
No hurt in pain though.
I have seen some of what they showed me.
I have seen the best person given by God,
I call her Mommy!

My mommy, your mommy, his mommy, her mommy.
Daddy here, daddy there, daddy somewhere.
Some spread love while some give hate.Hate produces hurt, hurt makes hate.
The world is wounded and band aids don’t help!
I long to give them love, so that they don’t make a child, a mother, a woman abused.
A son, a father, a husband bruised.

Its an elders world and what we give is what we reciprocate.
An image to carry, an idea to utilize, a world to bereave is that all that we are?
A child is the father of the man.
Soon, the father loses itself,
The child finds himself.

Time is ticking and all that we are left with will be ruins.
The oil, the gold, the money,
None of that matter, no honey
None of that matters, to save our souls.
None of that matters to save our souls!!

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We Bid Our Farewells Already

A stranger on the phone asking me baby how are you?
I am stunned, there is no reply to my fume…
denial and abrasion of the truth,
lacerations in the heart, and deep gnashes to the wound…
explicit memories like thundering skies,
a million jolted thoughts with a loss of precision, mostly of time.
sometimes a kindred, sometimes a savior, sometimes, a shadow,
Persistent in chaos.

Those are the damages done by a dead man.
A breathing, talking, dead man,
Shallow and narcissistic that narcissism was put to shame.

If there were hugs to share, there would be none.
There is no emotion for the vile already done.
To the darkness already spread, one white spot is trying to dispel.
This soul longed for love. It turned vulnerable to know, to ask , to ponder,
What it feels to have an old man at home,
But to my awe,
There was psychopath lurking in the mind of a despondent. 

The pillows know more secrets than a shrink
They know more stories than a storyteller could ever tell.
Hapless mind is a creation of a boorish life,
No, there is no marvel that the devils exist in disguise.

I saw that when hope died, there is a death inside,
Deep inside, may be it was a fracture, or maybe it was a heartbreak.
A lifeless life.
How pathetic it is now to state,
A life giver was the cruelest form of creation, an example.
It seems useless, the tears shed,
the deaths died and one day a sudden emancipation liberates.

Yes it liberates.

madonna