A beautiful creature,
With eyes that speak
Of a chasmic tapestry,
Forcibly buried and discarded.
She laughs with abandon
And dances to the clink
Of the raucous tambourines;
Albeit, I sense a falter
In her impetuous steps
Sans that piteous attempt
To smother a yelp.
She plaintively wishes
That no one notices
The traces of weakness,
Threatening to unfold–
In truth, she’s one
Of the prettiest women
I’ve ever met;
Yet, also the saddest.



There are those
Who mean
The world to you
And you’d do anything,
To have them
In your life.

There are those
Who don’t interest you
And naught
Can ever coerce you
To notice
What they do.

How ludicrous, it is,
That this planet
Could be so upside-down,
That we pine for those
Who cannot be ours
Whilst others move
Heaven and earth,
Just to make us smile.



Justice doesn’t mean
Wearing a blindfold
Over one’s eyes;
Because, fairness
Necessitates scrutinizing
Every known
And hidden crevice–
Creating decisions based
On what actually occurs
To all those involved,
Even to the ones
One does not like;
For, what happens, then,
When the assigned jurist
Opts to be purblind?
Then, he cannot perceive
The abject situation,
Gaping back at him,
To be acknowledged
And understood.
Real justice
Shouldn’t be blind.