It's not at all true sometimes;perceptions conceived by the playful mind;
Succumbing to cancer,
words though fly a million miles...
Hidden behind the veil
Is a crack at the knife...
A drapery of acts;
A share of a thought or two;
All at the tip of a drummer boy's stick...
Plagued by the locust swarm...
Ran on over the edge amidst watchful eyes;
Happy smiles that turn red,
Prowling in the shadows...
Dull blades bent on infecting havoc in the back,
Lurking behind sweet conversations in front...
Claimants simply listen;
Let loose the bolt to hasten the quasar of words;
Untie the knot to let everything pass unnoticed...
Playing along with the scheme;
Rolling the dice for the poker of retribution,
Of which will come sweet...
Usurpers lead on;
Unaware that claimants knew;
Culminates a grin, along with every clue...
Someday, perhaps...
When everything has died down;
Knitting father time;
Until then, should the dove perch;
Lest the truth be told...
Usurper tongues should be gripped in an Atlantean hold...
Jasmin Uy
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