Heading north . . .

How varied are the expressions of the face?
Smiles, tears galore, anger beckons the grimace
Some with the control over this stay still as stone
Some unwillingly and unwittingly, let it all be known

If life is a sine curve,
then what is it’s current
If chaos, theories and butterflies fly,
why is there this iterating maze?

My friend, life is this trekkers walk
Sometimes joy walks beside you, sometime you rumble
but at the end of the road, when pain encumbers,
all you will do , is stumble.


The vibrant hum of escape

The lady slave in her mobile grave

Crawled and slithered – trapped, enslaved

As her impending doom , around did cape

Her mind yearned for an escape

Onto the water is her glance , transfixed,

a vibrant dream –  sans glum and mist

but the fountain of fate did regurgitate a spurt

Broke open her grave! Uprooted the spud!

Off she ran to her brave new world

where the bees did hum, in full fervor

All that remained along the runaway

withering defeated wails – along the fading facade