Poetry ~ Window To My Soul ~ The Way I See Humanity

"One thing that gave me this lasting impression ( in a sad way) was when I saw a group of young girls…they were busy applying make up. At first I thought they were just sitting there but I was shocked when a car stopped in front of them, and they came rushing toward it. Then, a middle-aged man took a younger girl, I think she’s 14. I was young and foolish so I didn't know what was happening. I asked my cousin and my brother what those girls were up to but they just gripped both my hands...It was later that day when I was told that those girls were...prostitutes… and that’s how I came up with this poem"

"Moonlight Flowers"

The sun sets in the south,
dusk to midnight, smokes float in the air,
The scent of money in the sky,
Moves the flowers in the garden of the night.
Come, butterflies, come…
Come taste the sweet nectar

Of the gentle flowers of the night.
Flowers of nameless existence…
Ah, look, there are those that are not yet
              in full bloom,
But butterflies…they feed their nectar,
Moan in the unexplained pleasure…
They drink in the sea of ecstasy.

Oh, flowers of the night,
Go, bloom under the moonlight…
Buds of ruined innocence,
All for the taste of painful pleasure…
All for the sake of filthy rectangular confetti
That can fertilize the soil where they bloom
     And live like a withered roses left in a silent grave.
After the pleasure, the butterflies fly away
While flowers gather the filthy treasure.

Their soft, fragile petals are all stained
With the stars’ tears of blood.
Not even the rain can wash the sin away…
Not even the falling stars can grant their wish.
Beauty, colors, innocence,money, luxurious pleasure,
Though these flowers smile, 

who knows what their tears mean?
Will that be pain? Sweet sensation? Joy? Emptiness? Regret?

In the garden under the moonlight,
There are flowers blooming in the night.
Butterflies come! Bring the scent of money here!
Come embrace these beautiful flowers,
Love the pleasure but not the heart,
Their moans are the butterflies’ sensation,
But how about tears?
Butterflies, don’t come caressing the flowers
      THAT ARE NOT YET IN FULL BLOSSOM
OR THEY WILL WILT BEFORE THEY BLOOM!
They scream but not because it’s pleasurable!
They scream because that’s what kills their pride and vanity…

When the clock strikes midnight,
Flowers in the moonlight garden bloom.
Stars in the velvet, night curtain
Are sparkling like diamonds in the dark city.

…come butterflies, come! Come taste the nectar of sin!
Come dance with the flowers under the red moonlight!
…come…dance…filthy flowers…dance…
For not even the morning dews
Can cleanse and wash everything away…