Land without boundaries

A land without boundaries,
A street without a name,
A road without an end,
A sign post without a pillar,
A home without its peoples,
Is a mystery beyond all reasons,
Has time ebbed into the legions,
Sinking humanity into oblivion,
Or has he escaped extinction,
From the throes of anarchy and destruction,
Can life be found yet again,
And land once lost be reclaimed,
Streets and roads would be swarming again,
With signposts leading to their homes there again,
The face once lost would be found again,
And smiles will be regained,
Futures will be borne again,
And this time destinies will truly be free without any remains.

Here’s a cleaned-up version of your poem, maintaining its thought-provoking themes while improving clarity and flow:

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**A Land Without Boundaries**

A land without boundaries,  

A street without a name,  

A road without an end,  

A signpost with no pillar,  

A home without its people—  

Is a mystery beyond reason.  

Has time slipped into the legions,  

Sinking humanity into oblivion?  

Or has it escaped extinction,  

Surviving the throes of anarchy and destruction?  

Can life be found once more,  

And lands long lost be reclaimed?  

Streets and roads will once again swarm,  

With signposts guiding people home.  

The face once lost will be found,  

And smiles will return.  

Futures will be born again,  

And this time, destinies will be free—  

Without remnants, without chains.  

A man's world

It's often said 'Its a man's world,

And I believed this growing up in a submissive land,

Raised by a patriachial family,

For whom I was no more than a wallflower,

Only to be trampled and crushed at every juncture,

I longed to see the world outside,

And fly a kite like the boy beside,

But I was a girl like no other boy,

And I knew my life would be no other ways,

I was born to breed for the future generations,

Ironically never to breed my own gender,

So why the stigma against me,

Why the injustice driven towards me,

There must be light somewhere the mind yells,

Yet the body does not quell,
And as I face my muted fate in antipathy,

I long to see my antitheses even if it isn't reality,

To feel her fierceness and strength,

For she is an antidote to my failing life,

A rebel in the living stifle.

Someday I know I will break free,

And reach her in my fleeing,

Our paths will cross someday I know,

And I will say to her for sure,

Thanks for your strength and perseverance,

I broke my rut in all deference,

I will then paint the world in my own shades,

And create my own striking portrait 

Here’s a polished version of your poem, refining the language while preserving the deep emotional and reflective themes about gender, freedom, and personal empowerment:

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**Breaking Free**

It’s often said, "It’s a man’s world,"  

And I believed this, growing up in a submissive land,  

Raised by a patriarchal family,  

For whom I was no more than a wallflower—  

Trampled and crushed at every juncture.  

I longed to see the world outside,  

To fly a kite like the boy beside,  

But I was a girl, unlike any boy,  

And I knew my life would be no other way.  

Born to breed for future generations,  

Ironically, never to breed my own kind.  

So why the stigma against me?  

Why the injustice thrust upon me?  

There must be light, my mind yells,  

Yet my body does not quell.  

Facing my muted fate in silent fury,  

I long to see my antithesis, even if unreal,  

To feel her fierceness, her strength,  

For she is the antidote to my dying spirit,  

A rebel in the suffocating stifle.  

Someday, I know, I will break free,  

And reach her in my flight.  

Our paths will cross, I am certain,  

And I will thank her for her strength and perseverance.  

I broke my rut, in all deference,  

Then I will paint the world in my own shades,  

And create my own striking portrait.  

Apocalyptic world

Bygone eras speak of a time,

When worlds were one and sublime,

There was peace and joy in the living,

And beauty and continuity in the giving,

In a land of utopia there was no misgiving,

Yet something inside was definitely brewing,

For in the state of utmost flawlessness,

There existed a take of unmatched meanness,

Slowing creeping upon the perfect,

It threatened to destroy with a viciousness,

And as human as we are,

Oh how we succumbed to the darkness,

Extinguishing the light inside in all earnest,

Suddenly the world was taken over,

By the devil in our very own selves,

Thus began the end of the world as we know,

With no tomorrow to begin.

Here’s a cleaner version of your poem, maintaining its reflective and contemplative tone while enhancing clarity and rhythm:

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**The End of Utopia**

Bygone eras speak of a time  

When worlds were one, and all was sublime.  

There was peace and joy in living,  

And beauty and continuity in giving.  

In this land of utopia, there was no misgiving,  

Yet something inside was quietly brewing.  

For in a state of perfect flawlessness,  

Lurked a tale of unmatched meanness—  

Creeping slowly upon the ideal,  

Threatening to destroy with a ruthless zeal.  

And as human as we are,  

Oh, how we succumbed to the darkness,  

Extinguishing the light within,  

With hearts heavy and earnest.  

Suddenly, the world was taken over  

By the devil within ourselves.  

Thus began the end of the world we knew,  

With no tomorrow to see us through.  

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This version refines the flow of the poem while preserving the idea of a fall from an idealistic state into a darker reality. Let me know what you think!

Immigrant

A forlone face in the sea of skins,

Skimming through the debris of sins,

Amidst the pallor of the dingy,

Singing sorrow to the ruddy,

Failing in the shift of destiny,

And struggling to find face in the living,

A lost cause without a home,

Alone in a land of doom,

Fighting for survival,

And masking the pain of betrayal,

Escaping the land of the dead,

Into the unknown charters of the lore,

Only to be befuddled at every step,

Tricked and shunned for what's rest,

Encountering every hurdle in the way,
Yet making in far step by step,

Tears and heart break may not stop you,

And looking back is not for you,

Surging ahead with every sinew of life,

With hopes for a future safe and right,

For them, their children and their ancestries,

And nothing can stop them from reaching their haven  

Here’s a refined version of your poem, tightening the language and enhancing the flow while preserving its themes of struggle, resilience, and hope:

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**A Forlorn Face**

A forlorn face in a sea of skins,  

Skimming through the debris of sins,  

Amidst the pallor of the dingy,  

Singing sorrow to the ruddy.  

Failing in the shift of destiny,  

Struggling to find a place in the living—  

A lost cause without a home,  

Alone in a land of doom.  

Fighting for survival,  

Masking the pain of betrayal,  

Escaping the land of the dead,  

Into the unknown realms of lore,  

Only to be befuddled at every step,  

Tricked and shunned for seeking rest,  

Encountering hurdles along the way,  

Yet moving forward, step by step.  

Tears and heartbreak may not stop you,  

And looking back is not for you.  

Surging ahead with every sinew of life,  

With hopes for a future safe and right—  

For them, their children, and their ancestors,  

Nothing will stop them from reaching their haven.  

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This version enhances the rhythm and tightens the imagery while keeping the essence of the speaker's journey toward hope and resilience. Let me know how it resonates!

Happy Smiles

Happy smiles spread over her heart shaped face,
Twinkling eyes meet her freckled cheeks,
Dimpled chin trace a merry look,
And here she goes swinging jauntily,
With a halo of sunshine above her head,
And a trace of carefree candor about her,
Surely this must be an angel say people around her.
She smiles and turns towards them as if to say,
Only to realize that she is all by herself,
Buried in her surreal dreams in her make believe world,
She is indeed a dream inside a dream,
Basking from reality so grotesque,
Yet hopeful in her quest,
That life would just be her way if she dared
and held that belief in all earnest.

Here’s a cleaned-up version of your poem, with a focus on smoothening the flow while preserving its emotional depth and imagery:

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**A Dream Inside a Dream**

Happy smiles spread across her heart-shaped face,  

Twinkling eyes meet her freckled cheeks,  

A dimpled chin traces a merry look,  

And off she goes, swinging jauntily,  

A halo of sunshine above her head,  

A trace of carefree candor about her,  

Surely, this must be an angel, say the people around her.  

She smiles and turns towards them, as if to say—  

Only to realize she is all alone,  

Buried in her surreal dreams, in her make-believe world.  

She is, indeed, a dream inside a dream,  

Basking in a reality so grotesque,  

Yet hopeful in her quest,  

Believing life would bend to her will—  

If only she dared,  

And held that belief in all earnest.  

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This revision smooths the transitions and emphasizes the contrast between the girl’s idealistic world and the harshness of reality, while enhancing the emotional poignancy. Let me know your thoughts!

Lightning and thunder

Flashes of lightning bolt rise through the forlorn skies,
Signaling incessant rains and mud slides,
Houses are destroyed in its wake,
And people are swept away in all their pains,
In a scene of utter chaos and destruction,
There seems no hopes for a future,
Yet the streak of blue behind the grey,
Seems like a nemesis of change,
Portending a vision for the future,
Simple and true in nature,
As lands slowly emerge from the legions of past plagues,
And smiles wash over the agony and pain,
Seeing a posture full of joy and vigor,
Sensing that life has just begun,
After this metastais of lightning and thunder.

Here’s a cleaner version of your poem, focusing on tightening the language and enhancing the flow while maintaining the vivid imagery and themes of destruction and renewal:

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**After the Storm**

Flashes of lightning tear through the forlorn skies,  

Heralding incessant rains and mudslides.  

Houses are destroyed in their wake,  

And people swept away in their pain.  

In a scene of utter chaos and destruction,  

Hope for the future seems lost.  

Yet a streak of blue behind the grey  

Whispers of change, a subtle foe,  

Portending a vision for what’s to come—  

Simple, true, and full of nature's grace.  

As lands emerge from the legacy of past plagues,  

Smiles slowly wash over the agony and pain.  

A posture full of joy and vigor,  

Life begins anew,  

After the metastasis of lightning and thunder.  

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This version keeps the original imagery of chaos and renewal but streamlines the language for clarity and impact. The final lines now offer a more concise reflection on rebirth after destruction. Let me know your thoughts!

Life a juxtapose

Life is but a jauxtapose of dreams and reality,
Constantly swirling and swerving in duality,
Sometimes mingling in the midst of shadows ,
And other times in the shades of light,
Lurking in these murky waters,
Strange is this abstract reality and yet poignant,
For raising the subconscious at the most inopportune moment,
Yet delivering consciousness at just the precise moment,
And as delusional as this may seem,
Nothing makes mores sense than life in itself.

Here’s a refined version of your poem, enhancing clarity and flow while keeping the core reflections on the interplay between dreams, reality, and consciousness:

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**Dreams and Reality**

Life is but a juxtaposition of dreams and reality,  

Constantly swirling in the dance of duality.  

Sometimes mingling in the depths of shadows,  

And other times basking in the light’s embrace.  

Lurking in these murky waters,  

Strange is this abstract reality—yet poignant,  

For it stirs the subconscious at the most inopportune times,  

Yet delivers consciousness precisely when needed.  

And as delusional as this may seem,  

Nothing makes more sense than life itself.  

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This revision tightens the language, smooths the transitions, and clarifies the contrast between the unconscious and conscious moments of life. Let me know how it resonates!