I am neither a writer,

Nor any laureate

Least of all a Poet,

But I write

Sitting in the dark alleys

Of my own little world

Where writings and poems

A dime a dozen are sold,

Still I write

Write what comes to

Heart or mind

Good, Bad, Ugly, Beautiful

I will leave behind

The sleeves of my vocabulary shirt

Are a bit short,

So I cannot stretch my arms

To Pick the words I truly want,

Therefore I juggle

Juggle with whatever little I have

Then try and dress them up

As best as I can

If my heart says yes, I leave them

If your minds say No, I care Not,

Am sorry if you feel offended

But, thats the way I am

skuki