Round goes the slithering wheel

Round goes the slithering wheel

of my new Ferrari

round and round it goes

but it is all imaginary;

For I ain’t that rich

but neither am I poor

such flux is a witch

desires without a cure;

Some day I say

and lull myself asleep

alas there’s no way

for my dreams are too steep;

for dreams from the assembly line of the dream factory

the dreamers never taste victory.


I Opened her purse

I opened my angel’s blue purse and peered inside

the girl who I once wanted forever to be by my side

no clues that she would leave me by myself

but that is old news like herself

my sad life now has no one except the devil by my side.




I am not a poet

I am not a poet, not yet quite,

I hunger for fame, the loud acclaim,

I am all alone be it day or night,

not pleased with my scribblings lame;

I am the laziest boring person ever

giving nothing to this world

yet wanting all deeming myself too clever,

I wander never able to fit any mould;

who decides what is wheat and what is chaff,

what sweet nectar and what tar,

the sun shines the other side and tonight is tough,

yet for me and my brethren dawn is not far;

I’ve opened my doors as days come and nights pass

my words yearning for sweet company to trespass.

Before the night is over

Before the night is over
the world shall kiss my feet,
Drunk on pride, I’ll never be sober,
all pains and sorrows shall beat retreat;

Before the night is over
she should come bowing to me,
beseeching not to be the vengeful lover
I’ll sadistically enjoy it with Glee;

My family, blood relations, friends
shall serve me stooping beneath me,
all dreams true with none that contends
or opposes my anger and cruel decree;

for this is my last night on Earth
towards hell I breathe my last breath.

If I were a grasshopper

If I were a grasshopper

I would hop from tree to tree,

If I were a party pooper

I would issue my own decree,

Alas I am an ugly duckling

Wish I could hang to be free;

If I were a guy

I would seek flesh, ever sly,

If I were a girl

would never entice, hide beneath skirts, never twirl;

Don’t ask me what am I then, why so bitter?

for the confused mad mind has no gender;

If a mad mind’s all wishes were to come true,

It would be hell on earth anew.