The same rose, still ablaze scorching red,  
A ****** from realms yet untread,  
That unfolds upon the ancient, earthen bed—  
But heed the thorn; this way one cannot tread.

Every morning the nightingale sings her song,  
Leaps into melody, ere the day grows long.  
Down the moon’s open eye, once strong,  
To unlock the door, one must belong.

In the quietude, beneath the moon’s aged grace,  
Maybe lies a key forged in shadow,
The sun slides down, lights a candle at a silent pace.  
Who claims this boon, who dares to embrace,  
Must know the rose’s fire, the nightingale’s chase.

The same rose, still red hot,  
the ****** from the other world,  
wide open on the ancient Earth—  
mind the thorn, though;  
this way, the door is closed!

Every morn, the nightingale  
hops onto singing before the sun pops.  
In the shadow of the visited moon,  
keying in the door must be someone's boon!

As the aliens
Watch us, they say,
“What a fickle nature,
To fall in and out of love,
Like it’s a doorway:
An impossibly liminal space.”

I'm hiding Myself,
behind this curtain of 'Rain'.
My Life, has committed Sins
and I'm now, feeling the Pain.
I'm tired of listening,
to the sound of My Tears.
They've been falling and falling,
for way too many Years.
Finally, I reached to God.
With both My Hands Folded.
He kept counting, My Sins
and in the end, had Me Scolded.
Satan stopped counting My Sins,
as they never seem to End.
He pushed a note down My Door,
"No place Here, for U My Friend"

I'm a fool, Who has fallen in Love.
Head over Heels and Blind.
I keep blushing during the Day,
not knowing what's there in My Mind.
If I offer My Love and Gift wrap it to U.
Will U make Me yours Forever
Or will U turn it Down and Laugh at Me
and make Me hang My Ears Forever.
As I stand on the Steps of Happiness
waiting for U to open the Door.
Will U let Me into your fold
Or will My Tears roll on to the Floor.
The Last time, When I said I Love U.
My Voice had begun to Crack.
I'm that best selling Book, U never read.
Lying Dusty and Torn on you Rack.

The Door to My Heart, was left open.
To a Woman, I had given the Key.
She never found, what She was looking for
and soon returned it, back to Me.
I held back Memories of Her.
The moment She decided to Part
and nestled them, Safe and Secretly.
In the corner of My Heart.
I drew Her Picture in My Mind.
A Picture which I could never Erase
and painted the Picture, in My Heart
with Colours no one could Replace.
Each Night, I played the Moon to Her
and was building Her, a Mansion on Mars.
I kept building My Castles in the air,
While She chased all the Stars.

He called in for a shower after being alone on the streets for a week.

Is that time enough
to get ***** for a shower
   as a man nearly twenty-six
in years.
She could turn him away
like her father’s sister
might have and did.
From time to time.

It all depended on how many times in a week,
month, or year
he would show up without a call.
Without knowing he still existed.

Somehow, his presence and
absence
were a mixed blessing.
His presence was like a merry-go-round
that goes against the earth’s pull.
Like a brazen thorn
stuck into your shoe.
Unpredictable.
Vacuum-like.
******* all the ***** things in.
Taking everything in its sight
and power and making
everything contort
to his reality.
Where he and only he resided.
Would she open the door for him?

What she does know
is that she might risk speaking
in a bright happy voice
of a mother
so gladsome to see her son.
Welcoming him in.
Rather than turning him away
because of his inconvenience.
Grief is inconvenient.
That is one thing she knows.

and the door opens
unto an empty chamber
existent future

i prepare everything of
what to do
when i'm in pain
but when pain knocks
on the door
i forget every plan

i called a dog to
the door the dog come to be
a dog ever was