A myriad thoughts on a broken vase
spills with haste in distress.
A word or so tumbles down
to either express or frown
On matters of deep and smudged relevance
or trivial issues or topics so tense
That can stir up a thousand minds
from the beaten track of the daily grind.
Is it the pain or rush to speak?
Is it the urge to stand by the weak?
Or a helpless cry for aid
to wake up the millions of living dead?
Or an effort to juggle dreams
of little minds with innocent whims.
Words conjure and flow with gaiety
in search of utopias and visions dainty.
The pen does often flow with blood
to rise for the rights to the wrath of the Gods.
when a hammer or sickle rises so
to steal the riches the rich men show.
Often stifled thoughts and a warbled voice
seek to conjure a path of choice
away from the practiced trend
with hurdles that take time to mend.
Seven seas and the seven land
will evolve with a taste so bland,
that we will write over and on
Till we find for what we set on.
