Hey Anthony Albanese, you have no shame, no guilt, no conscience…trying to hijack everything else but be yourself! You are just like treacherous Prakash Saint Paul. No shame, no guilt, no conscience. Get fucked the two of you!

Hahaha! The sharks are falling out with fate!: A poem 

I am not only Virgo   I have more than the strength of a Virago  The Amazonians taught me how to fight  with all the sting of a jaguar’s bite!  So far, the love and light of patience  hasn’t deigned to too much action  I don’t celebrate birthdays, that I can’t handle  But I certainly know how to blow out allContinue reading “Hahaha! The sharks are falling out with fate!: A poem “

I’d rather be the bum that shits out all the scum: A poem 

I don’t know if I prefer my tomatoes  red or green; do they come in any other colour?  I dice them and then I toss them in  after the onions go golden. I am left alone  to be my own gourmet and my own chef  But I am aware that the world gets a taste  of the brewContinue reading “I’d rather be the bum that shits out all the scum: A poem “

God manifests as a lowly foot soldier: A poem 

I can’t ever retreat into the  ghost town of my soul  I am called to take on  too many gunbattles  in frontier haunts.  I must have the agility  of rubber gloves and the  unbendable steel of metal  sharpened by Vulcan himself   I, sometimes, feel I am   in the furnace itself  where the iron boils and is cast.  You can see, whileContinue reading “God manifests as a lowly foot soldier: A poem “

I can call them out, even if they call bravery out!: A poem 

Did they take the thunder out of lightning?  Did they think their conspiracy needed whitening?  How spurious is the war against justice and the nation?  Does a little indignity in youth deserve irrevocable character assassination?  Much of you would also like to have a little vagrant sex?  Are your names altogether clear of an incorrigible vex?  Holier-than-thou is noContinue reading “I can call them out, even if they call bravery out!: A poem “

On Saint Paul, Popes and the verdict on the arse: A poem 

Why does Saint Paul’s cathedral not have a mural of a fish?  I can imagine that devout “Cat”holics spend their lives  eating the body of a fish! The priest is happy to drink and eat!  Did Jesus publicise Essene secrets, like he did at the Last Supper!  I sincerely wouldn’t fancy my butt depicted in the Sistine Chapel  Michael Angelo did it under duress! I couldContinue reading “On Saint Paul, Popes and the verdict on the arse: A poem “

Compassion is not kind if it condones cruelty: A poem 

Was the Sun, all this while, burning or sleeping?  Was it taken like a helpless bird, with only one wing?  How do I discern if its light was beached on shore of sea?  Out of that churning whorl, they came and snatched it from poor me!  I have to save too many drowning crew from the ocean’s floor  Where the ships had sunk, theyContinue reading “Compassion is not kind if it condones cruelty: A poem “

Is God’s journey headed right?: A poem 

The chartered flights are bringing the skies aground!  But my destination seems not to be where I am bound  Do birds actually migrate to where they belong?  Is their inherent magnetism singing the right song?  The journeyperson wants to know the maps of his destiny  How can he be sure of what he wants, with all this chicanery?  Everyone seems toContinue reading “Is God’s journey headed right?: A poem “

Evil’s voice can speak through you like a ventriloquism: A poem 

It was as if God lay on the edge of a sword  It was as if he had no help coming aboard  There was such calumny, both heard and unheard  It stank of manipulation and misrepresentation of his each word  And the stirrup got entangled in the breeches  The steed was surrounded by a sea of erodingContinue reading “Evil’s voice can speak through you like a ventriloquism: A poem “

But this shark is not my pet…: A poem 

I didn’t realise it was a nightmare  because it was so alive at each stare  The walls of my home fell apart  like cardboard edifices in a bloodbath  And vegetation sprouted everywhere  All my towers were treetops in the air  that I could reach with my fingertips  but still not touch like illusionary slips  As if when imagination becomesContinue reading “But this shark is not my pet…: A poem “