Mysterious random thoughts

Here’s the story at the creative desk.
The Earth of dusk,
Has stored its share of miracle cures,
From the Earth non-immunity,
To immunity
But all past achievements may lure
In unknown to the work
Of the Earth.

Thanks to the Earth much for your faith
That find knowing any jerk.
The Earth gives it
To all in the freeing permit
Well, nature is quite simple.
Grow something designed by a miracle
And magic, to make it work,
For the share rather than against jerk
And the Earth is doing for Life?
Indeed, yes, in this case, the Life.
Which has been performing at perform able level,
To be veil rather than useful.
Earth is the way to describe it.
If the Earth can imagine its bodies as a freeing permit,
And if it pictures Life as a very-real soul,
Being: living by a very-real self.
The picture changes, and that’s essentially what self,
Have done for how many time have it done as soul.

Unknown years later.
What do I see,
What do I see?
Here I better,
Just the way I like it.
Stubbornly I like it.
Excuse me,
Excuse me.
All right, come on.
All right, come on.
Here I go. Feed my spirit.
Don’t just push other spirits around.
I am not playing the fool. Feed
Okay. I am going to feed my spirit.
I am not playing fool around.
I am just, just going to feed.
And then I am going to feel quiet.
What am I feeling about, why
Didn’t I feed my spirit?
Alright. Here’s what. Don’t say why.
Look, I am going to feed twice as many tomorrow.
Alright? Keep in a row.

© Ismael Mansoor

Published by This Engrained Heart

I am a Deaf male, and I write what comes my mind. I have been creatively writing since 2010, and from there has been growing my excitement and passionate for my poetry and writing.

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