As I sailed in this ocean
Prowled by storms of distress
I couldn’t hid in its liquidness
I would drown
I couldn’t drift into its atmosphere
The scholars; who seem abit clever
Said I would suffocate
But, they don’t have answers
To all my questions- I mean
And while am here; on its humus
I am croaking; any time as well
Either, from being slain by the diabolic creatures that thrive in it
Or to the storms of uncertainty and fate
But there could be worse; bad choices
And I have seen this land’s brutes praise valor
I wondered why should it be there?
Or anything smelling like it?
My friends in kindergarten said
It belongs to heroes; who resist the sweetness of evil
I told them I was going to be Herman or Hale
And one of those brats
Whose face I see; even in the dark born of these centuries on my phiz
He said I looked like Lucifer
Did I become sad?
I know nothing about it, but that he broke our friendship
Or rather, I did
I hit him; saving him only the last breath
And while I cooled my fist in the small, cold pond
I saw Lucifer incarnate; looking at himself

For I was young, and good
But I had tasted a spoonful of distress
And only with that
I could blow up the world trade center
A thousand times
Or as often as I had another spoonful
I’d learned to fight but not battles
Small-big personal wars; on my own of course
They coalesced with others’ we made World WarIII
Such brings victory, but we don’t win
We make fists and punch.
No! we weld iron with high temperature
And copulate it with wet stone
And it’s only vileness we take for booty
As it conquers our hearts’ chambers; all of them
But, we never seem to learn
We raise the rifle and cutlass;
And evil thrives
We are fighting for virtue; we think
There are no good fights in the world
We fight; and not to win
But to break- many a peaceful-heart
After all, there’s some art in breaking hearts
What’s to mind about making vows?
What’s the reward there is in keeping them?
If our impressions help alot
Winning us the superficial friends we need for moments
In a few seconds of numb-pleasure
What do we lose ?
It’s afew times
Once or twice or more than twice
Numbers mean nothing; save for dollars
And I looked at this fame devoid of glory
I have to disown one time
Could be at dawn or noontide or after dusk
Oh it’s damn pleasurable!
This; my kingdom come
Without a crown to give up on my death bed
This existence; the engulfing ellipse of emptiness
Where we run races only to win; less than our effort
And hunt for less than what we really need
Setting off on journeys that wind and wind
To a dead-end we call destiny
And we rejoice; seeing it as adventure
I’ve to let this ocean be what it wants
To kiss as many storms as it more than wants
I’ll let it watch me sail against its tides
For I have to be alive; not merely existing