You can sit around
and hope that time
solves the puzzle,
or you can put
yourself back together.

You chatter away like
an angry squirrel,
I watch you scamper
away and finally resemble
a fading flower.

I have built this temple
I have mounted this throne
made myself ruler
of a cold empty world
passed my own laws
that I flout everyday
for mine is the glory
of my special way
I have been left deprived
of love and affection
now I give myself
everything never left wanting
you can enter this realm
maybe sit yourself down
I need someone to polish
my oversized crown

613 200 Hours
25 550 Days
13 Cars
11 Jobs
9 Dogs
6 Surgeries
5 Children
4 Grandchildren
3 Marriages
2 Siblings
1 Weary soul.
No regrets.

The world is bright
Today is full bright
The stars tonight...
Will dance so tight
And the moonlight
Will be clearly sight
And, is around eight
All will be fully tight
To see the midnight

Welcome to the Bright
This life is nicely right
It has a weight and height
A smile will scale it aheight
On faces of people's sight
One very day smile we might
If we see our  Farha is height
And beautifully she is weight

Welcome to the Bright
Dear Baby Farha

I don’t want to
Open my mouth
Because I’m still afraid
The truth might come out
And if it does
If it really breaks free
You’ll see what I am
You’ll see the true me
The one I hide
With jokes and lies
I’m a terrible person
All jokes aside
You don’t seem to know it
You don’t seem to see
Even a glimpse of that person
That I know to be me
I’m such a good actress
I hide it so well
Cover it with a laugh
And you’ll never tell
You see depth in my eyes
You see love and emotion
But what would you see
If I ever did open
I can’t bear to find out
I can’t bear to show
The me you don’t see
The me that I know
If I let it out
If I let it be
I know for a fact
That you would hate me.

Yew and me
That’s poetree :)

I used to read your poems
but lately you don't write
you're silent and aloof
you know that isn't right.
You can't close a door once opened
you can't abolish all your dreams
you're a poet of the heart
mustn't fall apart at the seams.
Say what you can in words
they speak the message true
spoken from the heart
the poems will see you through.
A hermit's not your style
a recluse, you are not
never give up writing
of things that you've been taught.
I used to read your poems
I'd read them once again
if you would send them out
(this one's from a poet friend)

In the amidst of fears and tears,
im walking solely towards unknown abyss,
sudden,i profound something beautiful,
nothing,but;
a walking beautiful chaos.

To finish your own life by hand,
May seem like the right thing to do.
But to free yourself from this land,
Is to imprison those that love you.

the last winds took you
that is  why I do not like endings
few more sentences left for end
bu I can not hold the pen

They said,
"The most beautiful art is
looking into someone's eyes
when they talk about the
things they love."
And I said,
"Or looking at someone you love.
Or maybe, just maybe,
by looking at the mirror
is the most beautiful art
anyone should appreciate."

So many poems
and stories
have gone unwritten
due to fear of not being good enough

I soften with
the rain

I saw you
Through the screen
On that second
Why did I think
It was meant to be

Now read from bottom to top.

She said "I'm falling in love."

I said "I'm falling apart."

I met a woman
brutal in her mercy.

Her embrace was a clinch
to prevent hard blows.
She pulled me close to push me away.
Seeing my nakedness
she leant me a dream
of chainmail and shield.
Taking love from me she gave a reprieve
to a mind resigned to the slow death of feeling.

Ignoring my words she heard
my faint silent heartbeat and
understood that it was music
too quiet for the world to hear
and turned it up louder
than I could stand.
I wept in my deafness
as she danced.

I've housed
demons before
Sometimes they're
better roommates than angels

I love him
I tell myself
I know that
We will be together forever
I don’t believe that
We could be separated
My thoughts tell me that
He’s the love of my life
Sometimes my heart lies and says
I could live an eternity
Without him
Like my friends say
“We’re perfect for each other”
And you can’t tell me
He’s not the one.

Now read from bottom to top.

your name is
forbidden in
my mouth
or in my heart
because when
i think about
you;

i'll cry a little more,
hurt a little stronger
love a little softer
because you no longer
make me feel sober

i'm drunk on the
memory of you

Tonight
I will not be sleeping
till I write the words
that are keeping
me awake

Tonight
I’ll make the most
of a late night evening
and by the morning
waiting
for you to wake

Tonight
Who’d have thought
I’ll be weeping
while you’re dreaming
words too late

Tonight
while gone
I keep writing
alone and grieving
words I wish I wrote
and now reaping
your fate

You are a piece of art
that doesn't belong to anyone

No museum can cage you

The poet lives two lives.
One on the outside,
And one in their mind.

When you look in their eyes
You could see an abyss.

If you looked long enough
You could sink into it.

But most people don’t see it.

Take the time to read the words, though,
And you would know for sure.

The poet lives in two different worlds.

You dreamed it once
The slow bend in the road
Past which the world delves
Into the realm of the unreal
Unrealised futures selves
That are as material as
Anything will ever be
In this stretch of land
Between here and infinity
Where a million bonded yous
Could be living in flawed
Synchrony, a dissonance of
Possible lives you will never see
Even now at the precipice
Of all that waits to come
The time it takes for a hum
To bloom into the vibration
Of a body growing wings
Is that step that lays down
The brick for the next
Two feet never together
On the same square inch of ground
There lies the sound of cracking shells
A chrysalis to which you are bound
By birth, where inside you lay the
Stones of the inverted pyramid
With each clean bone leading
Cleanly to the edge, the rising temple
Held up by the apex of the roof
Long before belief has penetrated
The invisible heart of the root

In a white room
on a white wall
there hangs a still life of flowers
Although it seems
it's all but a dream
it's message of peace
has great power

between you and me,
i'm still rooting for us.

maybe not in this lifetime,
but in the end.

Blah Blah Blah

Blah Blah

Blah Blah Blah Blah

drooling

over the object

of your belief structure

blah blah blah

your coolness

is unheatable

Break my bones;
cut my throat.
Pull me open,
learn the ropes.

Breath me in;
taste the fear.
Shank my skin;
stand and cheer.

Kick my head;
let me bleed.
Unbolt my veins;
enjoy the read.

Gouge my eyes;
punch my face.
Wrap me up
in your embrace.