I Am From Maize

It is written in the stars above - that we shall never meet,

any more than lovely moon - will ever meet the beach.

To gaze upon her pale shade - mirrored off the sea,

and have her waves break on the shore - for all eternity.

Eagerly I pray for tides - like the thirsty pray for drink,

to hear the music from the foam - and sea's tranquility.

I feel her pulling on my heart - with all her gravity,

a gentle language that she sends - spoken just for me.

Yet it's written in the stars above - that we shall never meet,

but when I feel her moonlit glow - I'll wait here happily.

I grow tired of my poetry.

It's all that you will know of me.

It really hasn't grown on me,

when I read it in my mind.

I only will love you - to the end of your lips.

And immediately stop - right after this kiss.

I've forgotten where exactly.

The stains of human history

can never be erased,

only masked over until tolerable.

Sugar, Spice, n Everything Nice.

That's what girls are made of.

Short Poem

She set sail from the harbor on the last remaining ship, she had burnt all the rest.

I couldn't blame her. I understood why she did it,

as I stood on the shore with all my baggage in hand.

I once lived a very Eeyore-ian life. Now I am tickled pink at the absurdity of it all. The contradictions and hypocriticals of living an authentic life.

Coffee thought.

Why aren't cookies called, Bakies? You don't cook them, you bake them.