She walked down the aisle,
In a beautiful white gown just like her smile,
Her hair in a bun
with a crown just like Eve,
Her lips without a smudge,
Her cheeks rosed pink
And her eyes in tears.
She made her vows with the one in her eyes,
But her throbbing heart
Knew she lied.
Since childhood, the angel thought
This day was the best.
Only to realize,
It wasn't the day,
But the man she would spend her rest.
The princess did not have her prince charming riding the white horse,
But he sat on the wooden bench like a silenda,
Reliving the moments of their star crossed saga.
Who knew there was an obscure string,
That would never let them apart,
The flowers,
The mass,
The rings,
Thy charm,
Was all just a show,
When the heart wasn't ready to vow.....

Oh, Prince Philip, you have served us for so long,
For seventy years… The Queen’s Kephas, the rock!
Sometimes it seems that you have always been here...
Like a Servant of the Monarchy, like power, like glory!

Oh, Prince Philip, the son of the Greek Corfu,
You, the Danish Hamlet, you, the brave soldier!
Today your life has died out, today you go to sleep...
So to sleep forever… with God in a permanent covenant!

Your city is crying and the rain is pouring down hard!
Sorrow on the faces of the Britons... You died during the plague,
You left like Paris, real, in the morning, in the spring...

Where are you going now? What kind of images do you see?
What is there after death? Will you reveal these secrets?
Are you taking these to the grave, for yourself, unfortunately?...

9.4.2021.,
On the day of the death of the Greek, Danish and English Prince Philip, husband of the Queen.

Judge me by my acts not my words,
For the world may be filled with roses,
But I shall be his one and only unique rose,
My importance will reign above else now that he has watered and sheltered me in this glass globe,
The caterpillars he has killed and the butterflies he dismisses are acknowledged,
To the listening ears he lent and the hours we have spent,
To the silence shared and the agony of separation I bare,
I am his rose.

in storybook endings ,
the princesses
found their princes.
The valiant heroes
chases away all the dragons.
The lost would find
their way home.
And people would find
what they've lost.
But then, whatever happened
to those who fell in love
with the dragons instead?
The damsels,
who became too comfortable
with their own distress?

Oh Desert Prince!

Your existance is like the wandering golden sand of your fascinating desert;

Light enought to flow through every chambers of my heart,

Gorgeous enough to be the life of the caravan's artistic mirage;

Your love embrace me with sheer darkness and chills of starry nights,

But warm enough to captivate me to stay within your sight;

You are the desert Prince,
You flow like poetry,
Amaze like magic
Priceless unlike jewelries,
And your love seems like a beautiful tragic,
Awakening my deepest desires that I didn't know even exist;

Loving you is like enjoying a never ending magic carpet ride,

That keeps me on edge whenever passed by a strong tide;

Oh desert prince!
You keep me mesmerized how Scheherazade did to Shahryar with every story she brew,

Not Arabian nights though but there's always an unfulfilled thrill in every word you sew;

Oh wondrous prince!

Now when you have played the most melodious echo with my heartstrings
that'd shy away the Qanun,

I'll never let go of you,

Though I don't know if I'll ever have your heart as a miraculous boon;

You are the desert prince,
You flow like poetry,
Priceless unlike jewelries,
Amaze like magic
Whereas your love seems
like a beautiful tragic;

" different from the first one. "


her fingers are glossy.

glossssssseeee

glossing. n

classy. i stand gazing.

like uh, a primitive, eye

she tells me their sensitive

and i believe her. because I

am quite the gullible guy

for sweet.. pretty..

cute.

.innocent. looking

things

ZAM.

she magnetically slapssss

and caresses the back of my dome.

tap tap... tap

' hmm a heavy stone, '

tap tap... tap

'it has a lot of content'... tap

tap tap .'oh'. tap tap tap

.

.

...

She begins her

journey

from the top of my head

slowly…

            tippy toeing        

                            down….

   My

            body

moving

         her  fragile nails

Like a

rehearsed fantasy..

she's been wanting

                                 to do.

she closes in

and rests her

index finger

across my neck like a

scythe shape sun....

she approaches  breathes.

in...and... whispers..

..

  “What are you thinking?”



And within that.

          my eyes smile.



[i don’t really know,  some sort of brain activity..... ]



                  “I think”



[your pretty, inside, outside,worldwide, ]



        [and ]



“I think”



[_<(^.^)> <(^.^<) (>^.^<) (>^.^)>]





             “nothing”



She still keeps going                                    [ it’s a long walk…………]

down,

slowly

maneuvering

in

elegant

moves.

before

closing in

....again.

this time in a more arrowed position across the more pronominal areas.



‘Why are you hesitant ?'

on being religiously

silly ?."



"Like if



    you dislike

                  

              the idea of



                         being  bright?’



[because

people are .........   ]





“Wait What???"





That’s not true.



only sometimes...



lol!@#!$!.

but still

“that's  so wrong



And misleading. "





















but please go on”.