It’s raining again

by : Bacardi Gold

Photo by Sam Lion on


it’s raining again
all my pillows are drenched in pain
in my bedroom, in the kitchen
my thoughts are raining in chain

bring all the clouds down
so i can see the sun again
and in the night of my hurting
i can see the moon passing
running in my dreams

just touch me
just feel my skin
and i’ll be raining again
with LOVE, with LOVE

catch me warm with your embrace
kiss my lips, make me ablaze
strip me bare and celebrate
in time the rain will fall again with LOVE…


King from an Austral Hemisphere

Photo by alexandre saraiva carniato on
The distant influence of the faraway moon
hanging like a spherical crystal dream
enclosed in a defined circle of space 
encasing an aquarium of singing musical notes 
floating in the web of guarded vigilance

A distant time in the aegis of a free rein
witching hours' celebrations of liberty is in full swing
dances of unrestraint privilege in a rhythmic beat of to and fro
till the wheel's ray diminished its luminous scented glare
defining the limits of its morn

A roguish fiery god of the universe
has awakened from a snooze of a bad fantasy dream
re-living the world as a king from an austral hemisphere
exploiting the mandate of his newly won couch
snatching the moon while shying away 
its mantle of angered gentle clouds 

Stargazing on a dark murky sky...

Yanking twinkling stars 
with a yard stick of intimidation
sowing fear among the traditional clan 
of bright stars and planets 
braving the blemished uncertainty 
of the dawning milky way...



The Face That Marched in the Forefront

Photo by Is Kanda on
immersed into a sea of alluring faces
lost among the good cheers of bliss
but one was perfectly an ace of standouts
her smile caught me in a static stare

her eyes speak of happy pictograph
sinking deep into my timid heart
expression of calmness well memorized
into the mind securely intact

her image reflects a lovely queen
can't be bruised and can't be shaken
unmarred smile the epitome of beauty
like a moon in the sky shining brightly

but the face that marched in the forefront
is so near yet a distant hunt
a perfect figure the pearl that I imagine
is the lady that's on the cover of a magazine...


Photo by Anthony DeRosa on
hanging on the wall, noting some leaves of mark
with eyes invisible, staring glances unblock
fixing a stare, making some honey whispers
hissing earnest talk, time is on your fingers

spinning 'round in circles, running 'round the moon
in numbered silent moment, memories shift too soon
retreating a minute's fate, releasing a destiny
dreaming a future's goal, isn't a chance for eternity

grind some grains while they're on your hands
the clock is ticking, the late hour reprimands
the seconds will be late, to catch up the luck
seize the moment, the truth is on the clock...