I think mostly
When there
Is no ink
No pen
Or when my

I Heard that New York is a great
To be a writer and London is a
Nice place to be a poet, France i
Common place to be an author
All other places are irrelevant!

Oh God
What would
Do
Without
My hands,

I have read them enough to fill me
With tenderness; to sigh a relief
On my soul with heavenly mind,
Because now i could sight them far
As they would lease pleasure to me

Sometimes i feel like
I have done it all
But maybe its not me
Its the silk that’s unwilling
To cover my feet.

You don’t have to be in distress t
Just like you don’t have to breath
You don’t have to be tall to leap
You certainly don’t have to be sho
You don’t have to be loud to sing

A full moon had shown tonight
And its a dynamic of her own beaut
Her own smile and her own personal
What addition could tears bear whe
Feelings are idle and uncomprehend

I Am not a drinker
If not I would have claimed that
Bottles help me write.

Look at me, lying on the sofa
With the thought of money and fame
And my waist-bones cringes
Of the moves and roads and efforts
Sarcasm, or more like it’ i’d say

I have
Loved
Less
Since
The last