Sunday, June 6, 2010

Befuddled Child

I hear the brittle rustling of waves



Ragingly spash the mountainside


Under the palest light of moon


It pours its boiling wrath inside.






Above is something different


The sky was brigt and still


But who knows what lies ahead


If it will care or it would care.






Where I stand now is the land


Temptation lurks on its vastness


'Twas hard to choose from rigth or wrong


Its inconsistency results to madness.






To mix humor ,respect and love


A twinge could cost a lifetime


Yet to hope for joke to stop its scene


Is like handling a hopeless crime.


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