Insider trading

stock market
is a vision investment
with such
intimate insider knowledge
knowing the potential
of the talent
buying in
at your lowest point
nurture the environment
wait in patience
for
a wholesome harvest

stock market
is a nursery for fraud
with explicit understanding
of the subject
keeping a straight face
in the smoke screen
fanning
the flames of investments
while gladly
being an accomplice

Most of us think
insider trading
is outright illegal.

Yet we do it to people
every day.

Carousel

How many times have you picked up
my suitcase from the airport carousel?
They are exactly the times we spent
our sweet honeymoons.
When they ended, we returned to our independent lives.

People comes and goes like a revolving door.
Not one distracts us from each other
for each journey ends
each planning for another honeymoon starts.

The circle of life manifests in our love
like children enjoy the merry-go-round.

Sand

The cold coffee is keeping me company
as I sit watching the waves rolling in.

I am tired of the long nights with
an empty spot accentuated by the cool moon light.

All the heartaches exhausted my fractured mind.
My eye sockets are hollow and brittle
disregard the flirtatious breeze.

I don’t know why I am so chained up
by the past like a submissive slave.
When the master has been long gone,
I keep the pain and torture to preserve
pleasure.

I have been through tubes of smudging mascaras.
Drought became my heart’s desire and daily companion.

My ailing body no longer withstands
the changeable seaside weather.
Fine sand finds its way into
the window of my emptiness.
I cannot tell is it a rock or a precious mineral.

The irritaion imitates the pain to give pleasure.
My eyes well up and my soul returns.

Lightning on the ocean

I draw the blinds open
watch children playing on the beach
their fingers digging into the sand
toes getting sun tanned
chuckles and giggles trolling toward me
like the unforgiving waves

I once was that carefree
when we built this love hut by the ocean
the handprints of Lily and Declan
still hung on this silent wall

My mind is cluttered with last night’s terror
as ants lost their scent trail
the drumming in my head lost its rhythm
to chimpanzees’ screaming
prewarn me the coming of the storm

I grab my ears trying to erect the noise
clomp clomp clomp
here comes the tormenting spirit
the lightening flashes are blinding
they are lunging on my head

Whipped me once
Lashed out ten fold
Cracked me a life time

I give in to the chimps
hooting and screaming
at least I know what they are

Devour

I
spill
longing
onto
your
chakras

blotches
drip
from
cool
violet
to
wine
red

your
royal
elegance
descends
to
hellish
lust

IV – Kiss Collection

Cinnamon kisses are sweet at dawn
after an exotic night play
The remnant of the tangled souls
swirls like earthy warm smoke
infuses the haze cool morning

Wanderlust

Thank you Luna for letting this piece into her poetry bar, this is where I started to be connected to the WordPress poetry community.

Hope you enjoy reading it!

via Wanderlust — Luna

 

 

Tulip

You greet me in the morning
in shyness hiding as a bud
waiting to bloom
with the first sun ray

I mesmerise your vulnerable beauty
with little patience
caress you with eager breaths
witnessing the full blossom

Perfection

He is
warm like the winter sun
displays affection in abundance

He is
grounded like the strong roots
carries the life source

He is
transparent with his feelings
exhibits vulnerability

He is
gifted with a wicked sense of humour
shines through a beautiful mind

He is
self aware in quiet confidence
respects others with upmost integrity

He is
undeniably
perfect!

Toys

There was no concept of toys in my childhood.
For fun,
I trapped cicadas and fireflies,
caught dragonflies and tadpoles,
grew silkworms and hatched eggs,
made kites and kaleidoscopes,
slid down banana trees and swam in streams.

I had a 14-key toy piano in middle childhood.
I played Auld Lang Syne and
Twinkle Twinkle Little Star.

The Barbie I had was in adolescence.
My father took a bicycle ride
with me on the back seat.
He saved 12 packs of smoke to
spend on a Barbie for me.
I was thirteen.

I made Barbie a studio apartment
with shoe box, handkerchief,
match boxes and play dough.
Two AAA batteries, an electric wire
and a light bulb in an old pill box
made Barbie her reading lamp.
I took pleasure in hand sewing
all Barbie’s dresses.
The favoirite gown was made from
cellophane lolly wrappers.

Wherever I go, I take these
wonderful memories and
treasures with me.