My Rhymes

Rhymes let go off my mind’s hand And glide down my lips They hop on a string of wind and migrate to the unknown spheres My rebellious rhymes don’t want to know What modesty means That they shouldn’t laugh very loud in public Where the tinkle in their voice Can be frowned upon by cultural ethic My rhymes can’t see the rolling eyes of good wives Whispering rumors and calling them sluts They smile flirtatiously in the presence of guys glittered their eyes with much satisfies My rhymes always wear rainbow colors They sprout and climb faraway fortress Occasionally become as red as my tongue They make me wish I could in some way halt The arrogant rhymes of my poems Don’t even know how one can be better safe not to be sorry Hold each other’s hands at dusk And watch bleeding hearts making love My rhymes so light, Still wear some down They redeem my soul and heal my crippled shrine I am writing them for me! My rhymes don’t seem to mind!