Benching A Smoke

Benching a Smoke.

As I lie upon my woven wonder.
I beg to think about what I might be to ponder.

In instant of lighting a strike of fire
I ponder weather or not I am a liar?

When I see transit owned by money,
Run for our daily people.

A read of paper, full of stories
Written by they who owns the deed of the print.

I see a world blinded by a river.
An immense river of greed and unfair deeds.


I am yet to set a single breath,
On anything put my cigarette.

My entire mind may image,
Uncertainty of our world.

Therefore I beg to think,
Do I see the reality?
Or see my deepest fear?

DAyRise

Day Rise

Moon has set.
The sun has risen forth.

The vast sea of bleu
Creeping over our heads.

Rays of life
Awakening all the wonders of the world.

Creating a joyous spring morning.
Spreading the sent of the wise and pure.

The eternal beauty that surrounds me,
Is nothing near a surrealistic dream?

This is at its purest form,
Far from reality.

This is my morning glory.

One wise Man

One wise Man

Words of a wise man
Muffled by his own ego.
Trapped inside him
Like a bird in a cage.

This man now part
Of my day to day life.


My surrounding calm
And peaceful
But couch end by
Layers of despair.

Oh will we save our earth
My soul she cries.

Life lived in the moment
I have no future
As I have no past.

But mother earth
Fighting harder and harder
To remain serene and pure.
To have an eternal Future.


Simon Morin