SEPTIC WASTE

Poetry
1

Stink, foul- bloated
The attitude you display
Alone and in the midst of friends
You got me in feeling “Us” is a mistake
To which I must seek an end

Inwardly growing always
Your voice speaks
What you are inwardly thinking
And those thoughts stink
Pitch black, lacking trust
You are becoming filled with negative lusts

Greed, a desire for more
Where contentment has always served
As a watchword
Peradventure – a night alone
You sit to think and look back
We were well satisfied in the beginning of us

Now you want some more all-round
A better car, a bigger house
An oversea shopping
Months away from allies and home
A new job, a change of friends
A re-selection of goals and all your
So- called “better thing”

Some ideas are good, yes
But these friends we had when we had no one else
That I cannot change with them
I will always stay committed and in truth
So change some of own views

Cos, like a SEPTIC WASTE, some things stinks

 

Poetry
HER PORTRAIT

Worn with age hanging on my wall Faded by years In her, I find solace Through the multitude of those haunting years Painted brown, blue, pink and yellow A multicoloured pigment from the past Alas, upon her shoulders Once hung my hopes for life A reminder, this is at it …

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