A Wily Brush
The world has become my canvas
Everyone's paths
conjuring patterns
Vain ventures
plenty vanities
concocting colors
As unflattering wills
arouses a wily brush
This world is a notating papyrus
Each monk and mockery
fusing a lucid ink
As Pain taunts pleasure
masking our actions
with blending colors
Different worlds are formed
Birthed by ephemeral words
ushering a cascade of thoughts
flaunting baskets
of friable dreams
fashioning the pen
a flickering fiend
flattering friends and foes
a slick ink
with a cloying unction
And Like that.
I had this overwhelming urge.
I don't know what came over me.
I asked God is this the route I should take.
This habit of association.
To weed out what may seem to be selfish.
Time is of the essence.
This illusion of what is definite or what may not be.
Certainly this proclamation arrived out of nowhere.
Again I asked.
Notating my lack of patience.
I found the choir of mind without direction.
They stood and hummed.
Some in que.
Others were all over the place.
Without a podium or overreaction to the problem.
Amen, acknowledging your grace.
This aura highlighting sudden fixation.
I sought guidence.
Leaving the trail Whince I came.
I felt pain in my rib.
A spiritual curriculum decided by what's missing.
Again I asked.
More left to the imagination
A reiteration of urge.
The potency of silence.
Engaged by a look.
I understood what the choir was saying
Aesthetic appreciations
Made available with respect,
Encouraging her to reset
Regrets, with a mediation.
Instead of a deviation,
Compliments, she can not reject,
Are offered without a regret,
Notating alleviations.
Beauty deserves to be noticed!
Envious others choose their views,
Acting out as if with no gist.
Uninhibited beauties, who
Treated right, eyes dry with no mist,
Yearn for a vision of love too.
The level of respect, that someone needs,
Has to consistently be at a peak.
Elevated, so that it is not weak;
Incapable of doing dirty deeds.
Nobody ever knows where flirting leads,
Following the lead of the words we speak,
As we hope they lead us to where we seek,
Taking in the harvest of planted seeds.
Under what conditions would someone stop
And think about "to whom" someone belongs,
Trying to police themselves, like a cop.
In this case, pursuing them would be wrong,
On levels that were mentioned at the top,
Notating that the RESPECT should be strong.
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