Writer
The Forever Oath
PoetryI continue in service of memory,
My debt settled in honour,
For the light that pierced
Through horror.
For in the abyss, the
Concrete desert lived a nomad.
A fitting place for
The truly deserted.
A modest life,
One riddled with burden,
A soul littered in pain,
Yet it was love you worshiped.
In that shadow I lurk,
In your shadow I learnt,
Now in your honour I work
And your memory I serve.
Asya Valentine, Busy In Wonder
BusyInWonder: 2021 Proverb #1
PoetryThe more I sit and ponder,
The less my thought wander,
The simpler my wonder,
As Iβm humbled by age.
We all have hopes,
Delusions of grandeur,
To mask our simplicity
And act as an anchor;
To illusions drawn
In the prison of individuality,
Yet we all become aware,
Even if gradually.
That our pain is ordinary,
A promise from life
And no one soul is special,
Not even mine
A Stolen Song
Poetry
Hereβs a tale of a few,
A trodden path,
A told tale
Of broken bonds,
A folk tale,
A stolen song.
You shaped his soul,
He took your breath,
You lost your time
And he lost his head.
One went that day
Yet both hearts wept.
Your spirits left.
His soul is dead.
If Dreams Were Forever
Poetry
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Poetry, Uncategorized
The path of a social deviant,
limitless qualms and little agreement,
Itβs hard to be stable
if youβve never stopped grieving.
I never were whole,
Not since you stopped breathing –
Itβs sleepless nights
And lonely evenings,
Itβs troubled thoughts,
Itβs countless demons,
Itβs constant rain
Forecast this season.
A Smiling Chance
PoetryI can see some better
Days on the hill
As I lookout
This time,
Thereβs a little hope
In my dreams,
Thank you,
You changed my life.
Somehow you always
Know what to say
And what to think
Or write.
Youβre my final
Chance at a smile,
You really
Saved my life.
Counter Capital: My Literary Tradtion – Asya Valentine (1st Edition)
Poetry, thoughts, Uncategorized
NΟ HΞ±ΟΟα§ EΙ³ΤΞΉΙ³Ι Κ II
Poem, Poetry
Thereβs still no happy endings in site,
I guess thatβs life,
Itβs fine.
A thousand days of tears in this life,
It feels like time
Itself cried.
Maybe sometime Iβll be fine just for
a moment in time,
All the wrong could feel right.
No brighter days on this hill,
not a flower in site,
no happy endings in life.
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Insight, philosophy, Poem, Poetry, thoughts, Uncategorized
Brief moments,
in the end we are merely highlights,
a showreel – conscious, yet not of thought,
the sum total of action
and not a touch more.
In the end, intentions matter little,
desire is a petty distraction
little matters in theory
and theory matters little.
We are action.
