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zubair-hussaini
Afghan I wish I could just write forever.
I want it all. I have a craving for what this world has to offer and I'm daring to see if it'll be fulfilled. Yes, shiny baubles and warm sensations bring them all. But I also want the depths of human experience I want love I want meaning and purpose To answer to higher call while knowing none exists Do my words sound cryptic? As well they should. Language, poetry, fiction All are imperfect means of communicating the breadth of consciousness. They are tools our ancestors created haphazardly, Quite by accident In search of reassurance and comfort In the coldness of existence. This modicum of life cannot be grasped entirely by any Save sages and scholars some say. Mystics and dabblers they are. Life is not viewed from a single lens. Would you stare at your lover only through photograph from afar? Life requires mixing and intersplicing to bear any examination at all So once again I ask, do my words sound cryptic to you? I sure hope they do because I hold no answers. Those I learned long ago are quickly dispersing with who knows what else and all to no avail
0
Apr 25, 2012
Apr 25, 2012 at 3:06 AM UTC
I Shouldn't Have to Rhyme These Words in a Rhythm for You to Hear Them
I'm drunk again And don't know why Don't even enjoy this high Seeking escape has never tasted quite so bleak as a bottle of *** What to seek? What to find? Am I expanding my mind? Or silencing what's inside To write ****** poetry In an attempt to understand My inner self's complexity I'm trying so hard to avoid using the word I but it's hard when I've abandoned every notion of universal truth and fled to this realm of personal value that none can dispute Philosophical barriers And existential angst Nihilistic apathy And the temerity of too much education haven't brought me happiness nor confidence and yet I still implore my mind for perseverance towards truth in the blind hope that honesty will lead, if not to ecstasy, At least something other than bland, half-hearted mediocrity But these thoughts are all abstractions Even if they are the foundations for the straw and bale of my actions How near my daily deeds could they possibly stray? Drugs, *** and insignificance are the trio of troubles that burden my waking moments. I know I can be so much more than what I am I have wit, imagination, and ability far exceeding my peers But I lack determination or passion To mold myself nearer perfection And overthrow these hurdles But even then, nothing would be good enough Not these women, nor these drugs Not my ministrations, nor these verses And surely never myself It's time to put down my pen For now I'm only half-drunk And ingenuity requires either clarity from sobriety or quite a bit more toxicity
0
Apr 25, 2012
Apr 25, 2012 at 3:05 AM UTC
One More Time, Down and Around
I'm drunk again And don't know why Don't even enjoy this high Seeking escape has never tasted quite so bleak as a bottle of *** What to seek? What to find? Am I expanding my mind? Or silencing what's inside To write ****** poetry In an attempt to understand My inner self's complexity I'm trying so hard to avoid using the word I but it's hard when I've abandoned every notion of universal truth and fled to this realm of personal value that none can dispute Philosophical barriers And existential angst Nihilistic apathy And the temerity of too much education haven't brought me happiness nor confidence and yet I still implore my mind for perseverance towards truth in the blind hope that honesty will lead, if not to ecstasy, At least something other than bland, half-hearted mediocrity But these thoughts are all abstractions Even if they are the foundations for the straw and bale of my actions How near my daily deeds could they possibly stray? Drugs, *** and insignificance are the trio of troubles that burden my waking moments. I know I can be so much more than what I am I have wit, imagination, and ability far exceeding my peers But I lack determination or passion To mold myself nearer perfection And overthrow these hurdles But even then, nothing would be good enough Not these women, nor these drugs Not my ministrations, nor these verses And surely never myself It's time to put down my pen For now I'm only half-drunk And ingenuity requires either clarity from sobriety or quite a bit more toxicity
Continue reading...
53
I've asked myself so many times in the midst of questioning, doubting, fumbling, feeling, crying or smiling, What is love? It's timidly daring to believe in feelings unsaid When you first notice the glimmer of a stutter in your voice or start hedging your words when she's brought up When you start dreaming of what you'd say or everything you'd do to get her to notice you It's a never-ending pain that steals away your sleep and siphons your self-esteem when its taken away by fate, calamity or to another man's bed The nights you race to stay awake never quite seem to abet the weight pressing in on your chest You'll grow to regret time you'll call wasted And hate the absence of trivial insignificance Life will seem pointless, unbearable and cruel Without another to provide your days fuel It's a burning desire that starts with a whisper a touch, maybe a kiss Races through till your mind is parched Nothing remaining but thoughts of curves, moans, release It's a silent compromise that you'll never dare tell with no one privy except yourself Looking from afar at the object of your desire you'll build them up into perfection while the world seems to put up a million obstructions telling you she's out of reach, too good and obviously not interested It might be fear, obligation, friendship Any number of things will stand in the way and let you punish yourself through and through for as long as you want to It's an unstoppable joy No one can deny When the arrow flies true Not walls of concrete Nor carpets of glue Will stop you from smiling at thoughts of the things you'll do The sky could be purple, coriander, or just plain blue Neither of you will care one bit Or even have a clue All that matters is right there in front of you When you finally say I do It's the defining facet of just what it means to be human Cynics often scoff and say "Grow up and stop thinking with your **** But love is so much more than primal urges So much more than a meager thrusting and grasping It encompasses the anticipation of wondering The exuberance of knowing It drives men to create, instigate and fabricate the heights and depths of humanity Love is all around In every form from unhealthy to divine From bold to half-hearted From heartbreak to just started Love is all around Or its absence is sharply found I know all this now and I've barely scratched the surface Compared to all others, in this field I'm just a novice With everything I've said And everything I've heard This I still can't answer, Is love for me?
0
Apr 25, 2012
Apr 25, 2012 at 3:04 AM UTC
Love
I've asked myself so many times in the midst of questioning, doubting, fumbling, feeling, crying or smiling, What is love? It's timidly daring to believe in feelings unsaid When you first notice the glimmer of a stutter in your voice or start hedging your words when she's brought up When you start dreaming of what you'd say or everything you'd do to get her to notice you It's a never-ending pain that steals away your sleep and siphons your self-esteem when its taken away by fate, calamity or to another man's bed The nights you race to stay awake never quite seem to abet the weight pressing in on your chest You'll grow to regret time you'll call wasted And hate the absence of trivial insignificance Life will seem pointless, unbearable and cruel Without another to provide your days fuel It's a burning desire that starts with a whisper a touch, maybe a kiss Races through till your mind is parched Nothing remaining but thoughts of curves, moans, release It's a silent compromise that you'll never dare tell with no one privy except yourself Looking from afar at the object of your desire you'll build them up into perfection while the world seems to put up a million obstructions telling you she's out of reach, too good and obviously not interested It might be fear, obligation, friendship Any number of things will stand in the way and let you punish yourself through and through for as long as you want to It's an unstoppable joy No one can deny When the arrow flies true Not walls of concrete Nor carpets of glue Will stop you from smiling at thoughts of the things you'll do The sky could be purple, coriander, or just plain blue Neither of you will care one bit Or even have a clue All that matters is right there in front of you When you finally say I do It's the defining facet of just what it means to be human Cynics often scoff and say "Grow up and stop thinking with your **** But love is so much more than primal urges So much more than a meager thrusting and grasping It encompasses the anticipation of wondering The exuberance of knowing It drives men to create, instigate and fabricate the heights and depths of humanity Love is all around In every form from unhealthy to divine From bold to half-hearted From heartbreak to just started Love is all around Or its absence is sharply found I know all this now and I've barely scratched the surface Compared to all others, in this field I'm just a novice With everything I've said And everything I've heard This I still can't answer, Is love for me?
Continue reading...
76
Me without you Is like scissors without glue I can cut everything in two But it takes you to build it up anew Being with you brings out the best in me My mood, my passions and even the world I see flare to life, more vibrant and lovely than I ever thought they could be You see, you and me, we're two of a kind So put your fingers through mine And let's plan to find happiness for all time Because all I know is Me without you Just wouldn't do
0
Sep 1, 2011
Sep 1, 2011 at 10:17 PM UTC
Scissors and Glue
You call me a friend, So listen to me blather And splatter, as I pretend I can mend just what's left of my heart Do you see my father up there? Because I don't. He's as ethereal as the clouds passing by Nonsensical, whimsical, unethical But more than that, absent Do you see all these people passing by? I do. I stare at every one Hoping for a lover, a friend or even an enemy Anything familiar or functional. I just need someone to put their hand out And who gives a **** what it's for I sure as hell won't ask I just need to be touched Do you see your face in the mirror? I sure as hell can It's the face that haunts my every thought I don't know if this is love or obsession But either way, I can't get you to leave me with your affection I know this isn't how it's supposed to go But how can I say no To love, in spite of all the sorrow Do you see me? Because I'm not sure he's there You see the show All glitter and glow Me when I'm strong Not when I'm wrong I see me through a veil Only partly there I see the good And the pain But there's plenty I miss I want to see I want parents who care I want relationships that can weather the wear I want you to be there I'm petty, greedy And ever so needy I'm scared and spiteful and even hurtful But never mindful of what I really need So now do you see? This is me weak and foolish And not at all who I want to be
0
Sep 1, 2011
Sep 1, 2011 at 10:14 PM UTC
A Confession
I feel like I'm wasting away my life yearning for love Discontent with normalcy I want to soar atop the waves of desire Feel my heart pound at the possibilities And have my veins course with thoughts of someone else No matter where I end up I'd rather thrill through the valleys of my heart Than live my life in temerity Afraid of anyone else At least, that's what I tell myself It's a shame my actions shout another story Trapped in the past Not knowing how to let go Hoping for another chance I'm closing off everyone else And so I'm left yearning, hurting, and wondering How I came to waste my heart away
0
Jul 11, 2011
Jul 11, 2011 at 4:00 PM UTC
Someone, Anyone, Everyone
I look at what others create And if I'm to be quite honest There is little there I can appreciate All I see are children and sages Leaving my intellect yawning or befuddled in mazes Jealousy and pride Have walled me in But it's alright Because my own elegance Brightens the night.
0
Apr 24, 2011
Apr 24, 2011 at 8:28 PM UTC
Honestly Ugly
It feels like I can't breathe And I won't tell me why No matter how he pleads Maybe I miss the light from your eyes Maybe my sanity's said goodbye And as quick as they came, The demons are gone again. The ennui rushes in And I whisper - I'll heal I'll run from being comfortably numb, Ignore the dreadfully appealing Idea of hiding from feeling All that I can do, But what terrifies me Are the thoughts of you.
0
Mar 27, 2011
Mar 27, 2011 at 10:37 PM UTC
Learning to Feel
Dead on the inside I can't conjure any inspiration to lift my imagination from this barren plain Searching for stimulation I've stumbled across enunciation In those rare moments when the torrent of my heart overflows But now my chest is lacking since all the valleys and hills have been flattened. In the mountains where my muse reposed All that remains are empty paths of prose So I'll write. Where once I put pen to screen to catch my screams Now I'll clatter away to Escape the doldrum of emotional boredom
0
Feb 13, 2011
Feb 13, 2011 at 9:38 PM UTC
Where Did the Scenery Go?
I could fly if I tried ○ To where fey delight lies ○ And in the moonlight rest before ascending higher yet ♥ Fair or foul, none would elsewhere stare ○ Because see, I am up there bare ○ Dizzying dives of despair shared ○ While breathtaking climbs, with flair, part cloudy veils ♥ Oh, how my wings would, like the sun's echo, glow ○ Sparkling eyes would the course of tomorrow know ○ And with nary a care, choose to forego woe ○ I'd swoop and swirl and soar, to through shadow, flow ○ And still dancing unmoored, dare to follow dreams yet undreamt. ♥ I could fly if only I tried All the way to where happiness lies But why bother When all that rises must falter
0
Aug 9, 2010
Aug 9, 2010 at 6:30 PM UTC
Flight