I used to be a vegetarian
But, just to destroy the world
I turned myself into a disgusting carnivore
One wonders if the change was worth it
But it feels nice to make a difference
Yet still, I can’t fully give up
On my precious veggies
And now they are my guilty pleasure
Three years have passed me in a haze
And I forgot how to observe
And I forgot my time and place
And I forgot my own true words
I have dismissed the sparks of joy
When I discovered something new
When life was nothing but a toy
When, daringly, I still loved you
When spring had blossomed in my heart—
Never to give me what I lack
Never to end, only to start
Never to ever change me back
Never to wither, so I thought
But then three years lastly passed
Three years—in one mighty blast
Three years, turning all to naught
Three years on a one-way train
Three years of both love and pain
Three years, all gone down the drain.
Riding my bike on a second of may
The sky be clowded with raindrops
Is it weird for me to enjoy the cold?
Breeze against my unsheltered face
The harsh reality, it brings me back
To life is to struggle against the odds
And emerge victorious
tide has turned;
freshly uncovered thoughts
run around like little tigers—
seemingly wild, untameable and savage. Yet
their furry coats demand attention and
paternal care dissolved in mother’s milk
to grow into a ferocious beast and
sting their fangs into an unsuspecting
passer-by, who’ll then, in pure astonishment
proceed to change their outlook on
matters most mundane, excluding not
cat videos on YouTube.
The Spring has come
The quiet beating of the drum
Is ever closer to behold
As beauties of new life unfold
And, from under piles of snow,
Emerge victorious of the winter blow
And, in me,
A new myself lies dormant, too
My body yearns for something new,
A new direction, paved by none
But morning rays of growing Sun,
Whose shine, so cleansing and so fine
Reflects in corner of my weary eye
I chopped down a tree
To make an axe
Now why would I need an axe, you ask
Why, I chopped down a tree
To make an axe
To chop down yet another tree
To make another axe
So I can chop down more trees
So I can make more axes;
That’s how I earn my living
Ain’t nothing wrong with that
Still everybody asks me “why”
When certainly the more important question is:
Which one came first?
The tree? The axe?
For it’s gotta be the tree
Who started all of this
And I am just a victim.
I didn’t vote for this, I didn’t vote!
So why did this still happen?!
It felt like a bad anecdote
‘Till I heard my nerve snapping
If we would ever meet in life
He’d surely resent me
And still this bigot on two legs
Should somehow represent me
A millionaire for common folk
Locked up in his own tower—
All praise the Emperor’s new clothes
Our new King’s might and power!
And all the baboons in his court
Are standing there clapping
I didn’t vote for this, I didn’t vote–
So how did this still happen?!
This work was requested on Fiverr.
Just for $5 you can give me a big headache.
There’ll always be those who abuse the system, but
Is that a reason to neglect those at their lowest?
It feels like saying that we need no doctors
Due to the few ones who will fake their sickness.
Don’t tell a living soul
Keep this a secret from them all
No others need to learn or care
No need to forward or to share
For once, keep this your own affair
Forget your laptop and your phone
Hog all the happiness alone
And smirk at every passer-by
For they, they do not know
That you are wiser than they’ll ever be
That you see something that they’ll never see
Speech is silver, silence—golden
This secret shall your self embolden
all people always seem so kind and empathetic
ready to listen to whatever others have to say
And here I’m telling you ’bout my frustration
Though you won’t understand my sadness anyway
my busy mind is squirming with unorthodox ideas
new projects come and go throughout the day
But spare your instantaneous, tiring questions
You wouldn’t fully comprehend things anyway
whenever I unlock my heart and open up my soul
the people go “that’s cool!…” and turn away
And if I ever told you what my dreams are
You’d just pretend to grasp my vision anyway
At this point, I don’t bother even trying
The pity for myself comes into play
perhaps I’ll cry a little on your shoulder
just forcing onto you my sadness anyway
.Looking for a way to decorate your Christmas tree?
Do it with a poem. Request a poem on Fiverr.
Just like this one was requested.