Saturday, May 15, 2010


Through the tainted window of my eyes

I see in wait a hundred epic stories

Standing at the same corner of their lives,

All with the amity of their own quandaries,

Watching the movement of hurdles upon hurdles

Awaiting a sign to cross the road.

Often misinterpreted as merely the general masses

Seeking a sort of desperate conformity,

Each one endures the weight of matchless burdens

Secreted behind the smiles and colloquity;

They yearn to rid of the gratuitous anguish

But it is a secondary purpose to seek.

A change of signal encourages movement

And a pulse of hope propels the multitude forward

As they move on, despite their accompanying torment,

Toward their own primary destinations anchored

To their personal, exclusive characterizations

Of what one may call success.

1 comment:

  1. oye!.. this is my first visit to your blog! i didn't know u wrote poetry !