The Nature In War by yours truely

As the ants march forward,
the grass is still green.
The hummingbirds fly
in the blue sky, looking for the flower.
The scorpions roam
on the brown earth.

The flower is seen,
and everyone knows
that in our garden
we have enough flowers of our own.
“What is the point of having more flowers?”
a naïve ant asked but nobody answered,
as if they were brainwashed to go on.

“We are next to the flower,” the birds report,
“and it will be ours soon!”
They all invaded,
blindly followed the soldier-ant.
Other flowers on the trail
were ruined and destroyed.
The birds fell from the sky.
The ants got stepped on.
But no one noticed
that the flower was already gone.

Ignite the thruster,
Buy a duster,
fry a bee,
i gotta pee,
life is sweet
have a seat
sillywilly poem
rhymes with jeroboam
for all you fools
get your mules
we're gonna hike
before they strike
we're gonna travel
perhaps unravel
the magic of a certain place
make sure you got your mace
please try not to pillage
as we enter the unwashed village
leave your soaps at the door
you wont need em anymore
please stop at the gift shop
man, i really really want an op!

it cleans
it smells
its toxic if you eat a lot of it

it has shapes on it
it may be made of fat

the soap is your mate
its the thing you all hate (except several few)

*pointing at audience*
you know who you are

Quicksand

my heart is sinking
full of despair
the dream is lost
the hope is gone

slowly
im sinking into the quicksand
my heart is sinking
eaten up whole
still beating
sinking

in the quicksand
i sit there still
sinking
thinking
how i let the dream get away
how my wish wasn't fulfilled

if only i acted faster
i wouldnt have been here
if only i acted faster
the dream would become real
if only i acted faster
my heart wouldn't be sinking now

slowly
im sinking into the quicksand
my heart is sinking
eaten up whole
still beating
sinking

thinking
hoping
still dreaming
and loving.

Train Station

the ticket is bought
as sweat and tears slide down my face
torn from both arms as each side pulls me
which to choose?
which to disappoint?

"ALL ABOARD!"
they shout as the herd of passengers make their way to the train
pushing
shoving
me along
I try to fight
but there is no point
I have to make up my mind before the crowd does it for me

which to choose?
which to disappoint?

this decision is final
no regrets no remorse
no feeling of sorrow if didnt make the right choice
leaving with the train
to a new future
but leaving pieces of me behind

which to choose?
which to disappoint?

like an animal in a cage
looking at the passing crowd
hoping for a treat
my heart beats fast
as you go near me,
hoping that you will look at me

but our eyes dont meet
as you pass by.
the scent of you fills me with tears
as it leaves and the scent of lonesomeness arrives.

kept in the cage
alone
will you pass by me again?
will i have the courage to make you notice me?
will i be brave enough to go near you?
what if i will?
but what if it would be too late?
and the quest ends
as abruptly as it began.

sitting in the cage,
alone,
hopeful,
sitting in the dark
waiting for you to come back.

sitting on a bench in the park,
remembering happy times,
of times when worries were just a myth.

i was an eagle,
enjoying the wind,
gliding away.

my hair brushes in the wind,
the sky are cloudy now,
alone in the park.

the scent of rain surrounds me,
as i hear the branches of a nearby tree collide,
as the eagle's nest is shaken.

the drops fall on me,
and slide down my cheeks,
as i wait for you.

the eagle tries to remain in its nest,
as the storm develops.
it sits there, worrying, like me.

i close my eyes, waiting for you.
a small ray of sunshine hits my eye,
as i open them i see you.

we run at each other
with open arms, hug
and go together.

the eagle passed the test,
still sitting still in its nest,
silent,
proud.

Flower

A lonley flower in the field
gazing at the moon.
Its petals are sealed
while whistling a tune.

Thinking of things,
of future to come,
of having two wings,
to fly and to hum.

Its life is sweet,
no worries no fears.
Just a long lasting treat
of twenty five years.

You are that flower,
in this happy hour.