I am a believer of "A good friend is a connection to life, a tie to the past, a road to the future, the key to sanity in totally insane world." [Lois Wyse, Author]. And, if I have another friend to claim for, it is my invisible friend: my cyber-world friend who told me that, "writing is an exercise of the mind, " in this insane world. Therefore, my writings and poetry are not educational matters; these are something that I like to do to keep my mind active. "It doesn't matter how it is criticized or who criticizes it, " she said. I know my poetry is not that great, and I know that my grammars are not right at times either, and if my poems are floating around in the space of nowhere, and if someone stops by and finishes reading them, I must have done right to attract their attention. So, to my invisible friend out there, I thank you for your good advices and influential wisdom. You are my "road to the future, " and my "key to sanity, " and with life to connect: it is what it is; we are what are. To be laughed at, ridiculed or mocked, to be disdained and or to be liked, believed, and to be praised, we own ourselves. We are the masters of our own wellbeing, and all the rights and wrongs we seemed to know it all; as a result, we become stubborn or too stubborn to be dictated, directed, or redirected. Thus, the insights of our dreams are roads we follow - either we stumble or fall, but God has given us the strength to rise and move on. To be your own self: create your own character, devise your own language, have your own philosophy and find your own path; in that way, you are alone but unique to meet many.
The beauty of a woman starts
When her womb begins to grow
The child that she'll give birth
Soon will call her, “my mother”
...
Sitting on a saddle-like mounted stones,
Watching the river runs gently yonder,
Wondrous, countless, tiny whirlpools,
Sublimely caught his eyes to ponder;
...
You're once a sperm that your father didn't waste,
Dove to your mother's egg and gave her a positive test,
Became a fetus and made her crave for nuts and coke,
In nine months pain and joy; she's quite of a joke.
...
Love or Money raises a question in mind
But I’d be a fool to give up money for love
For I was born in the center of love by poor
Whom to pay back only my love not money
...