Poetry and Writings

The new line in the essence of time Periodic hell in misery mind Beg not for truth Exploit your own youth  And abuse the goal  Till you hit it loose

I don't know any longer If my compass shows the right direction I don't know if I get stronger Because I'm so used to action... Pathetic is a life of a lier Not so the life of a writer. Life of a writer is an ominous Fight with thought about no action. 

No matter how hard I try No matter how often I nourish my 'why' I'll still be this weird kid with an idea That I thought it was worth for to die Every little step I make Turns into misdirection Every little wall that break Being scrapped and built as a bigger one. I don't know any longer If my compass shows the right direction I don't know if I get stronger Because I'm so used to action... Pathetic is a life of a lier Not so the life of a writer. Life of a writer is an ominous Fight with thought about no action. 

Believe it or not But life continues After the dot. It may not always be a happy ending But it's certain that we all race For that golden ingot, So be it! 

The final countdown Before you go to sleep Before you wake up And begin your week. Time to open your eyes And see World isn't free But still a nice place to be. 

...Peace of mind. Most desired treasure Couldn't replicate the sense of measure For a cup of tea with a dream about Frost and thee. Peace of mind to be. 

Dominating. Then relating. Essence of all those things. Time to shuffle in and spread the drinks.

Adam and Eve.  Abraham and Sarah.  David and Bathsheba.  All had their piece of cake In Judaic land.  Nowadays their carnations Fighting to understand who is who And why is that she is holding her hand, While the boy kisses the man, Instead marrying Sarah again. 

Too tense on the allegory I write my own story Like everybody does But not quite as with jazz.  Time to save the savior Time to rescue the refugees One step to bedlam One step to life that's more than just a breeze. 

One tiny nightmare shall be stopped. An elegant piece of craft should work. The hands that have created this artwork They really can't be topped. String by silk string, a contraption was made With a prayer induced - guardian of the night. A plot to restrict evil dreams in their flight, Tail-edged in feathers, fashioned as a blade. Magic of old, magic of gold Bad spirits stopped or so we perceive There is no one who'd dare to conceive  An evil plan as dreamer in sleep keeps it bold. Darkness is cold, fear struck in it’s stare Fiercely the dreamcatcher protects and defends A keeper of dreams, until night’s journey ends Waking as dawn, warm in the sun’s rising glare. Adam Prockstem Smith         &        _Poonam. V (@wordplayermuse)