Some people are so fiery a sky
No thunder rules their ground—
no ablazed suns

Some people run to other people;
they take less or more of their lands
—like all they have or
A little more still
to the furious seas where no god lurks.

Some still, are glass
or breaking bits of it
They love a sky, with lightening
ploughed.

Some nights are restless, oozing words
Some,
So vacant a fall—
Some then, somewhere within.

No thunder, no people, linger on this coast.
No gods; none built;
no suns bow—
Still, the noisy silence reels
Slow and sudden its dive,
as we, in talons, wilt
And still we, in skies, slither.

Light and little;
mistaken,
so easily, dead—

green green
like moss beneath Moon
and Moon is lit up, perhaps
half or more or less some little
as leafy litter tickles the street
and a gust
in riot
solitary opens
with a voice of Autumn and
bronze dust body
that in nails and toes
of alleys and houses
sits and sleeps
old lady knitting spiders
and rats
in antique blazers of black
as a car whispers by
swift like a hiss
or a city’s small sigh
that startles the silver-eyed lizards
and they scatter
as wheat breaths away
into into into the browny blue
and gold gold
like cold sun
that beats and licks all noise to fire

and rises, it rises fatly
with the lone gust and the white

12:15 am

now the paper
feels as gentle moss
beneath the feet

and now I have
no words to write
for the night

is the body ever quiet?
now the wrist moves
and I become a crowd again

and
now
one

and now
I am a sea
(I have never met a sea)

and now sad—
swear I do so
every night

and it is not even mourn
but just a hue
in the hues of the sea

I am a monument
Someone was here
Some stone was carved
Some sketches made, remade
Some alterations...

I stand strong now
The creases of my neck
Are placed just right
And they can name
All of my veins

Someday, I will move
And my joints will crack
Then I will rub my eyes,
I will yawn,
And then I will curl up on the floor
And sleep for a long,
Long time

You do not hear it
The lone has a singing
Like silken threads of the wind
When it walks through the city
Its robes draping
Over walls and as shadows
Darkening the noise
Our legs dangling,
We breathe in smoke
Dust and traffic talk
Nothing is beautiful but we stay
Nothing is as we had fancied
Everything gentle slinks away
Revolted and charitable
And we run our fingers
Along jagged concrete edges
Waiting as if
For something
Waiting as if
For something
Sorrow comes
A tender companion
And leads the night away to obscurity
I dream of laughter
Tumbling as pebbles into terror
Clumsy and crude, bluntly myself
I stumble through myself
Searching as if
For something
Doors open and torches are lit
The labyrinth unwinds perhaps
Or starts to, slow and sleek
As if in tune to the song
And almost the spectre of reticence
Is cast aside for rebellion

But then, the morning comes
And I am a tyrant again

Now, alone, unbothered again
O mourn in morning dressed
What becomes of sincerity
Laid bare to us in nights
Do you wander as pilgrim
From hearts of men to dove
What agony bleats in breast
Of that little bird of woe
What agony bleats in breast
Of our little hearts of woe

**** this ****, so pretentious

Have you yet heard the painting
That the baker's daughter yester sold
That bears the bones of a day of old:

It dragged on streets, nearly gratting
The stillness that turned all eyes above
The farmer gave the farmboy a shove

And home he racing fled to tell
A war had come and it called for fight
Out skipped children bleating and bright

So swirled a red in sky's blue dell
And keen blew ancient horns of doom
As upon a frothing dark then loomed

The battle in rows lifted its heads
And far was heard the whistle of sword
As forth in silver might the horde

Came dancing right to our door-beds
For hours did bold a circus ring
Of cling, clang, and clatter and ring

And then, fair pilgrim, woke a slip
A stumble in storm's slim discipline
And down went warriors one by one

Quick passion gripped on sky's red lip
And sank a sinking sweet defeat
As we welcomed home the rain's bare feet

You have stolen my mighty dreams,
my glorious goals and ardent aims
that I had set with such delight.
Came you in at night, through
a window left carelessly open.
Put you them all in a bag, threw
then them out the same spot.

You then ate some flowers,
drank their essence, gulped
down all my hopeful cookies.
Climbed then you out
the same way the same way
climbed you in.

As if you had just not plucked the life
out of a an arid apartment.
As if the mountains you climbed were
not the result of your own deeds
As if the snow coughing sky did not curse
you for the cold you emitted.

Now here I am!
This ramshackled mess hugging me tight.
Scattered bricks of my own thoughts,
broken cement that my passion has become
Naked foundation, a mere shivering skeleton
but they say they see no destruction.
No wall needs fixing, no glass is bleeding.

I haven't cleaned remnants of the flower ***
the echo of the essence still lingers around
the halls like a silent ghost of the dead
Cookie tray buried under the dust of dishes
has long since given up hope for a new life.

Here I am now!
Two hundred years later,
still staring I am at my self-painted sky,
wishing to the electrified stars, questioning
the dimly blinking suns.
Still wondering I am!

How you managed to come inside
when there was no window to begin with.

When leaf drips off the plants like dew
I know I have failed
Fog on poor gold settled thick
And knuckly branches grasp at my trousers
As they whisper by

Like a nightmare full of the dead

Sorry, I say
With that same wet-paper voice of mine
My footprints forgotten
On dust-dressed tiles
I cannot water you, dear Pothos
I need not
You have no limbs left to feed and
I know I have failed

Failed.

(And so mine a being
In an echoing of souls)

Failed?
Such pretty your tales
And freeing miseries

Sinking frantic
In a devour of spring
These the tentacles of my beautiful Aloe
These the stout roses
My,
My mirthful Jasmines
And grasses–– alive!

Failed?

Green at last!

You bathe in blues and
Craft tragedies from mud
Ruin your love
And despair a bed-slave pretty

Could I weep–– interrupt or scream
But I am wood and they are not

Failed?
Or would you rather?
For fall for you is an effortless flight
And funeral the only peace
Then mourn!

Could I shut the window and
Bar it against the raging city
But breaks— it breaks breaks breaks!

Mourn and mourn!
Till the daylight goes to sleep
And mourn with your wretched stars
For the night

You mock!
Oh, be voiceless, sessile
Thorns again!

And when in the morning
The moon is dead
And thinner our stems
We will say
With that same parched clinging of ours:
We are not dust yet
Are you?

––

1.
Hibiscus rue.
citrus.
cataclysm.
but so gentle rue.

2.
A cappuccino night
eavesdrops,
the lamp sleeps slouching
its jaw slack,
my clock's monotonous cadence
is loyal as always

4.
A quaver
from a cadaver
that is what muttering trucks
do to the night

It is like startled birds:
they never sit back just right

5.
Insomniac mosquitos
have a *******, I think

The night sky
moves like a swarm

I watch it like a friendless owl
but I am happy

What nonchalant carnage did you leave
To rot on my skin?
Rub and rub, I rub in vain.
A cling so sure
Like birthed for me

Seep then in the rhizoids deep
Sack, sack the village to stream

To river to smoke

As sea, as sea, and only so, I see

You, the circus balanced on the lashes of your feats,
hues yours
Binding, blinding their hiss and shine
Trembling a string I
Spit and spit naught but I

Full to brim, this yonder of mine
Full and choking, homesick a home
Dry and dust— the blossoms of mine

Burn and burst of bone and beast
All onto the beach, bloodless, breathes

And I cannot even— I dare not even
Wash it away—

How do I and where do I begin?
Every step is a shallow abyss.

Far right corner of the road flooded with people
There sits a muffled figure
so used to my eyes I barely saw her.
A drowsy woman holding on to a petite child
Her shawl covering her inexistent being
and the earth she rests on,
almost unknowingly
A boy sits next to his kins,
chews on his nails, eating them up
I do not blame him.
I imagine him staring at the crowded ice-cream shop
on the other side of the road
the aroma of cream and sugary flavour,
the smell of happiness calling out to him
circling around his being trying to turn him on
forcing him to cover his ears in his harsh embrace,
close his criminal eyes and force his tongue
into believing the fingertips are sweet.

How is it possible that a thousand people see you
and yet not?
How is it that the same hope awaits your fate
and yet not?

How do I and where do I continue?
Every step is a hungry despair.

On the inviting ice-cream shop,
I see a girl of my age walk around the land
carrying a couple of toys as she shows their feats trying
to draw some worthless attention
I see her walk for hours,
I see riches dare not buy the cursed creatures.
I hear play-boys hitting on her
for her dusty shimmering face.
I watch as she closes her eyes
as if remembering the vulnerability of her being,
and quickens her pace, fear flickering on her profile
She walks. Her hands timid over the things,
her eyes active in the crowd,
searching for children to arouse
I watch as she walks and offers,
walks and offers, walks and offers
only to be turned backs on.
Folks, they wrap their children into their refuges
as if she were a wolf ready to ravage them apart.

How is it possible that a thousand people see you
and yet not?
How is it that the same hope awaits your fate
and yet not?

How do I and where do I go?
Every turn is guarded by angst.

Where did the dog go? Oh, here he is.
His tongue sticks out of his mouth
like a dying man crawling towards a mirage
His eyes twinkle at every movement
like a pirate searching for ship in a stormy ocean
The women shopping for clothes, and
girls choosing their jewels
the guys gambling away their lives,
and winking at the youthful blooms
as they giggle with blush smiling down their necks.
The happiness holds no life for him.
He moves as his legs in front
drag the burdens behind
The scar on his back gleams
like the new-born moon
that people are celebrating tonight.
Every night I see him wander
but today he wanders with hope
in his placid eyes, and it breaks my heart
that soon he will wither away and we,
we will celebrate the break of dawn

How is it possible that a thousand people see you
and yet not?
How is it that the same hope awaits your fate
and yet not?

I could go on and on describing this dark
but it's getting harder to continue the walk,
and it's getting much tougher not to fall.
The pits are getting deeper,
as scars, they grow brutal
I fear the despair will raze my being.
So now I'll come to a hault.

And what good would it do,
if I went on with my words?
No one stops to listen anyway.

The woman will still be there
Poetry wont give her a home.
the child, still chewing his skin
poetry wont buy him some sweets.
The girl will go home with her toys
Poetry wont gift her some cash
The dog will curl up in a corner and die
Poetry wont bring him back to life

I went out to write of hope, believe me.
I do not hunt for death in the darkness of night
I went out to write of hope, I promise,
of the happiness and excitement of ponding hearts
for the Eid that this crescent had brought
But all I could see was death in darkness of night
And don't blame me for inviting despair

Dont you dare blame me for noticing the dark
around the moon and her dancing stars.
The crowd dances on the beat but the drum,
she screams and shouts in angst and pain.

The hopelessness of a lively day to come.

A war broke out inside my head
an enraged battle fought at my birth.
A battle won but ever lost or so the legend goes.
Decades have passed since the first ever scream,
but the ashes of children still tickle our noses.
Maidens still shudder at sight of red leaking from butchered goats
Remnants of soldiers still hide behind darkened caves.
Sometimes a bone or two is found; mostly mere teeth.
They’re placed in dirt without any tears or mourns
for no one knows and those who do are far gone.

A war broke out inside my head.
They say people fought people with people as weapons.
The battle was won and ever lost
for no one was dead who had not killed
and no one lived who had not died a little
Our fathers fought our lovers’ fathers or so the legend goes.
Farmers still freak out over shooting stars
they’ve witnessed many that didn’t stop in the sky.
Veterans still get caught staring at voids.
Graveyards are full, insects are full,
bodies lay impatient to be gnawed away.
Rivers are full, fish are full, no one dares find out with what.

A war broke out inside my head.
They tried burying the bloodstained spears
but every flower seems made of flesh, every leaf a forgotten scream
No hands were shook, no promises signed;
the battle ended when the fighters did or so the legend goes.
Kids begin sobbing at quietest of sounds,
folks have forgotten all lullabies
Nights are awoken by shrieks of asleep,
cannons still snarl in cloudy dreams.
Halls still reek with smell of hunger.

A war broke out inside my head
and though emotions have long made up with thoughts,
memories still sway free with sewed up faces and missing limbs.
People stopped speaking of days long gone
but the air still echoes with tales unheard
Skulls of friends were stollen of brains,
limbs of children were cooked on coals, or so the legend goes.
Buildings shoved to the ground, graves robbed of beings
The battle was won and ever lost.

A war broke out inside my head
and though the sky still shudders with the silence of ground
We’re trying. Trying to make sense of the winds
Trying not to connect tides with sunken ships,
overflowing with sons and daughters and wives.
A battle took places some ages ago,
and though we still confuse chopped lambs with—
We’re trying. Brick by brick, we cement this rubble back to shops
Seed by seed we’re replanting our orchards.

A war broke out inside my head
And though old men still tremble at unusual of times,
Children still struggle to tie their shoes,
women still run fast through empty streets
and fathers still weep behind the doors, we’re trying.
Ash by ash, we’re sweeping away the left out war.
The battle sailed off and though the war goes on
We’ll die bringing this kingdom back to life.
We're fallen men among cindered thrones, but
feather by feather we'll rebuild our wings.
Flutter by flutter we'll reach the sky

So, please hold on.
There's so much left.

12:47 am

I like poetry
I like the company of it
the gathering laughter
the calmness of it

I like silence
and the lightness it wears
I like its chest,
the full embrace

and I like the night
especially its eyes
as it blinks itself awake
and as it sways
like an old woman
in her prayer

I like body too
how it tires
and how it jolts up again
its sweet sleep,
the strangeness
I like the geometry,
the dual nature of it.

Now there is a boy I think of
When I cannot sleep
But it does not do: there is
Crookedness
In every pepper that plays me
There is crookedness
In every lovely word. There is
No eye that spares me
The ******. There is
*** in the walls. The winds moan.
They ruffle my shirt just to see
They pick the sparse parts and
Spread spread spread they
Deprive no one of me. I am haunted
By my oak wood, my twigs
My sugar that races from me to fruit
And bursts atop the open palm.
There is no God but that
In the pinpricks of my skin
No word that does not steal me
And dies a meagre scent in ear
There is no book. I pray to the
Well-taught wells of nothing
And I am given everything
I pray in a sound I cannot own
I am heard, forgiven, etc.
Now the boy becomes a man
And I become a woman and
The night passes passes but
There is no hand that can hold me
And spare me the hold. I am tired
Of picking at the doubts on my skin
They yield, bleed, and do not cease
To become me. Me me, I am
Tired
Of confidentiality. Superstitious
Consciousness, I cannot bear, tonight,
All these dead fathers

Moving their hands to grab me
From within. I am not much
But a vessel
For his sheer body to pour through
And pass and ruffle itself neat
There is no language
Small enough for me: no word
That does not leak. No - no
Plentitude that could unmake God,
And fix me this pursed solitude.
Though, he... this...
Make-believe, beautiful and noise
Weaves me tersely into skin
And says forget forget, it
Does not do,
though

His looming lure is huge as a kiss
His hands are coarse company
Asphyxia feels again
Like homecoming

12:45 am

everything passes
winds disperse
to clouds scatter

wars dissolve
to remnants and
pinpricks of song

everything passes

I stare out unable to spot out
a light, a spark, or a sun on this starless night
and I start to feel the numb, hopelessness
arrive and take control of my insipid body,
I wish.
An act I stopped practising ages ago.
I wish that I could paint a moon and splash some stars
on the dead sky outside my glass window,
and watch it till dawn comes out.
-A fake reason to hope

and Osamu did say
everything passes

everything passes
winds run on, scatter
to cloud on the sky
electrons
through eyes of streets
oscillate
between days and darks
and then they too tire
say
Osamu believed
before I could:
everything passes

wait and—
would we wait and see if everything passes?
we will pass in the waiting and it is so so simple

Osamu
everything passes…
Osamu
perhaps we never will

here
love tides
through age
and knowledge
just as shiny
comes, lures, goes

Osamu…
here

perhaps not your humanity
but this was your curse
that in every passing moment
you stayed
and to no staying
could you hold

everything passes
it’s funny
we will too
it sounds like a lie

02:20 am

need a poem be good
for it to be true
good poems resonate
but need all always do

were the heart a still
forlorn principle
need it know no moving
of a tinkling ripple

what of machines—
do the gears not rhyme?
and must they really do
for the flowing of time

for how a young girl
lost in fear
so intricate delicacies
of secrets must hear

if a poem be hard
to achieve a task
where must one turn
to evacuate the flask

that bubbles anew
every new day—
need a poem be smart
to hold it at bay?

need a war be fought
to sing of a war
and need warriors,
comparing, spar?

is not a poem alone
as is a man alone
must then we all adorn
the sounds of a mourn

12:50 am

everyday
the words accumulate in me
and at night
I shoo them out
I never know what they are going to be
it is like a smoke
one sniffs all day
but does not smell

how dreary…
how unaware we stay
of all that makes us
what is it that blinds us,
if not the gaze with which we see

sometimes
the words become dreams
sometimes
tossing turning wake
and emptiness sometimes—
or like right now
they become it all
sometimes
I turn on Faizan’s brutal bright lights
and I uncap my pen
and I watch this page
and I pick my nails
and I think think think
it may sound silly
but those are words too.

We forget the tides as they claw on
Into the purple oceans of old
We forget the shores
Thousands, ten thousands
And then so many more
As ***** mix in with the seagulls
And seashells we lose
Through toiling of wave wave wave
Everything passes

Sky rests above this land
sky hangs bellow it—

and this world keeps spinning
and we keep running
we skip over the spiralling ropes
Jumping, ever jumping—
afraid to get strangled up
afraid to kiss the ground

What if this land tore open—
ripped and ripped till it were two
who would take us—

for we keep running and running
and we jump over the ropes
we jump then jump over again,
searching for wings on our arid backs
—we’d sail away if we could
and oh the worlds we’d see!
and secrets unleash

so we keep running and running
elevating our hopes up and up
till we’re one in the winds
but we never fly—
We fear the fall
afraid to wade into the unpredictable yonder
to rely solely on mercy of the grey bellow
—it entombs the people we loved and knew
feasting upon them, patiently
and nothing we can do will ever make it better

so we keep running and running
to keep warm our freezing hearts
but we cry only ice, it rolls down our bodies,
setting our flesh on fire, but we keep running
chasing the horizon where
sky is known to open her arms

but what lies above the sky
and if the ground split open
where would we go—

We laugh our questions away
and answers never sail our way
but then we blend in dirt and they lift us off
in their quiet arms; take us away
Where all’s to be seen and all’s to be heard
but there’s no one left,
and if a void is never seen or heard
what is there of the void but nothing

what lies above the sky
is it where all dead go
or where all unborn meet—
Is it where no one lives
or where no dies—

but its nothing we haven’t seen
for we implant our homes
not among the clouds but right here
on this broken land—
where no one lives and no one dies;
no dead leave and no unborn are new

and we keep running and running
for the world keeps spinning and
twisting and turning like a giant ball of clay
and we keep running and running--
mere pawns in an eternal play

we skip and we skip over the ropes
we then spin them for others
and watch them skip—
whirl away laughing when some
stumble and fall; these are our games
we keep laughing and laughing
hoping to laugh it all away

but we build our emerald halls
and dance in euphoric stalls
We invent new lands among the stars;
Tales of stollen dreams and made up hopes
tales of heroic norms and perfect forevers

and we smile in the starts and
we smile in the ends—
drink under our jewelled roofs and
Sleep with our flowers and pearls,
we paint this sky on our dreams
and remember it in our poems

But we’re not happy
But we’re not happy—
But we’re not happy.

and if this bruised land
that starves for our flesh
split open—

Where would we go?

Night's cold, mate.
I can feel it on the misty glass,
sense it in my shivering breaths
Please scoot closer, I feel so small
the sky outsides whispers her song
I swear the notes are breaking these walls
tell me you too hear them cracking
Tell me this roof is splitting asunder
for if not--

I swear I am, mate
I feel the tune zip open my chest,
sense it banging at my bare ribs
please hold tight, I feel so eternal
these cold winds are creeping in
I swear these blankets are empty clouds
tell me you too hear them stars roaring
tell me this quiet hasn't begun screaming
for if not--

something has, mate

something has to for I swear someone's playing my vessels,
tell me you hear my cry, not a flute weeping,
swear these trembling fingers do not play the piano;
tell me, mate, tell me you hear no sound,
tell me there are no trumpets gnawing at my bones
tell me the gusts don't hit like drums, tell me, tell me

what are you saying,
why do you sound like a dreamy harp,
hold me, here, stab this flesh, scream out, I need not this euphony,
tell me, mate, tell me you're screaming not playing a violin,
cover me, here, tear at this skin, don't sing me to sleep for I swear
these walls are falling, tell me you too can feel them around,
why do you dig around my lungs, why does my breathing
sound like bells, what are you doing pulling at my heart,

tell me, mate, tell me I am not caged in this sky,

tell me, tell me I am not one in the night, why am I burning,
where are my lungs, tell me you too hear this melody laughing
tell me I spit out shrieks not some dancing musical waves,
what are you doing, engraving me with blades, what are you doing
why are you ripping apart my heart, where did the winds
take all my breaths, tell me the window didn't shatter,
tell me I am not one in the shards, why won't these chains choke,
what is this hollow my chest has become,
***** me, wake me, here, rip open this skull, tell me there's no light, where is the moon, where did the dark go, where did the dark go  
what are all these suns for, tell me you hear me,
tell me you hear me, tell me you hear me scream,
tell me you hear no music, tell me you--


Night's cold, mate.
moon's still here, you need not run
don't go back under the bed,
I need you here

02:37 am

I have something more to say
frail like a young stem
something just as green

I think if I were to die:
here; now
I would not be upset
and I think if I were told just now
that I was to live
forever here
I would not be upset still

and it is sweetly silly
that love makes
letting go easy—
sometimes, perhaps
perhaps a short love only
a sensation that visits
only in the gentlest of nights

perhaps this will be my lover
and my war
perhaps it will be one
because it will be other
it is sweetly silly

I wonder how this cold, cold winter night
differs from death
twin sisters parted at birth;
one fixed and waited for,
other uncertain and feared
both mixing up their definitions

Numbness of my hand, my feet;
first a painful cold gust,
then a painless colder one
current under skin, fire in bones.
then you start to loose the sensation of cold
finger by finger, every vessel giving in
every muscle shuddering alone
so alone, so alone, so alone
your body could split asunder
how can the cold hurt you then
you've become a part of it

"peace at last" you whisper to night
but for how long, love, how long?
a mere second for
soon your blood will tire
your blazed heart vanquishing from its own ice
your teeth will turn on each other in desperation
hammer upon hammer and the battle will begin

"slow down, shut down" you plead to your aching body
so she does and
you lie still, snow casketing your being
soon you blend in with the dirt
but how long will you play the dead?
how long before you get it?
the twin is not coming
the night's cold but so's her sister
she isn't here, she doesn't pity

how long will you hope for her?
bandage the bruise, there's too much blood to bleed,
back away from the fall, put down the pistol,
untie the choker of rope, drain away the pills,
get off the bridge, step out the fire
you don't deserve an escape
you don't matter enough

soon this winter will sail away
and all your sins will be uncovered by the decaying snow
soon the sun will come out
tell me, how will you survive that light?
how to prevent your skin from cracking to shards
you're not numb, love, you only pretend to be
you're not dying, love, you aren't that lucky

you're not stuck but it doesn't matter
for you'll always find a way to prove against it
you'll build up a barricade around your chest
and cry out how painful it is to breathe
you'll dig your own grave and lie down dead
but dying won't **** you
you built up your fort and crushed it to groud
lit up a fire, watched your wings vanish to dirt
you're not stuck but it doesn't matter
you'll always find a way to tie up your hands

I'd let this winter freeze you to death
you'd reborn
I'd let the summer melt you away
you'd reborn
I'd call out to death, let her take you along
you'd reborn
you're reborn and die and reborn and die
and reborn and--

you'd die
"peace at last"
reborn.

Ruffled hair, love, ruffled hair
I tear open the ground above
you push out the wooden door
this room is but ever unchanged
your skin— a stollen shore

Breathe in, love, breathe out
waves upon come tip toeing—
scared then off by a nasty storm
dust feasts all over our flesh
I give in on you, our desolate norm

Sleep on, love, sleep on
I grab what here is left of you
one swift jump; away I flow
this starry night is— if unlit
your shy life: an empty, ebbing show

stay serene, love, stay serene
unmoving cloud, you dance like dusk
mirroring, above— I lovingly sway
I see a light beneath your shine
you this withered water shan’t take away

your skin— a stollen shore
this room is but ever changed
you pull in the wooden door
we lie along with ground above
ruffled bones, love, ruffled bones

—Night, night at last

Your majesty, I’m not here as a beggar
I am here to deliver to you a letter
carved on a bruised piece of wood
And why not paper you may ask
For life can tear you up, says good

Travelled without a moment of rest
for I’m here to deliver you a request
Plea of a human who lives far away
past the Childish hills, in Forest of youth
Where hopeless souls, they walk astray

I’ve kept it safe from every danger
hidden it away at sight of any stranger
Here I am from a being you once tore
With due respect, O king, I’ll dare say
It’s not for the sheeps that he wore

It’s word of a man, all who does is lie
But to this, I’d say it’s an utmost envy
To indeed all the souls who now rest
who lie in eternal peace away from you
For you, they say, are a knife in the chest

Pardon me, lord, please, leave him alone
He’ll be glad, he wishes for him to be gone
Says he he’s sick of hunting in that place
For no one’s a patient in Forest of youth
An escape from your reign is all, your grace

I’m here from a person who wears a mask
For showing your scars is not an easy task
Begs you to pity, shoot right through the heart
Make it stop, end your prey, take the game
With your mercy could he begin a new start

Now that I’ve done my job, I have to go
I too loathe you, thought you ought to know
Out on the distant land, we all see a light
O king, O life, we traitors have one last wish
Wish we to banish from your kingdom tonightr

Silly old papa with a head of stone
A heart of stone, as he wont say
A heart petty, poor and grotesque
Table unturned - noise and show
A jagged black stone - I pick you up

Debris and Zeus - I pick you up!
I throw you to the streets
There you kiss, you kiss - you foul sag
Of a naive wish, you bland-brown day
Out, please, to your beloved grey

You! Pitiful - huge - huge
Huge with arms of steel
Brazen love, burnt scent, naked sculpture
Chipped and art, you are the museum
Of yell and watch and monotony
The crease I will never paint
Gesture that will tear the paper
You disgust my pencil. You hold;
Crumbling; crumpled a poem
Cold, sold - sold. Sold, Papa! Sold!

My teeth are blunt from leisure
I refrain from bite, the flesh
Is just short of spice, but it
Would suffice, would that I
Willed; would that I. My jaw
Bolts shut like a fist and I ****
My body in on itself. Close, all
Movement close, I shall take
Nothing of this. I shall
Lie here, pale and pure as
Sterilised steel and let the
Earth steal what is due but
It will not grow, not one sour
Bloom from my sterile stew.
Let it taste and grimace,
Ransack then my sallow face.
And cold or old, my jaw will clench
Ever as bold and when all is done
In heavens and above, let it
Bellow upon God's flat face:
I did not take. I did not take.

Arms up, fingers clawed
as if ready to rip open a sky
pants —and sweats
and she sings.
a mad girl, people whisper.
rose-eyed, she weeps
as her mother pulls her in embrace
"she never stills" she says, flushed

a mad girl, people whisper
runs through rows of chalk-scribbled women
reaching for something unseen
Sings wordless ballads
with ever-changing tunes—
a mad girl, people whisper.
Bare neck and a bare heart
arms up, she leaps as if ready to soar
oblivious to the world bellow.

a mad girl, they whisper.
as I watch her struggle
to climb up the void—
A tree laden with blossoms and boughs
she tries opening her sewed wings
to grab a branch that lives
solely for her.

a mad girl, people whisper.
but I see him too, I wish I could tell her
but she speaks in colours
and mine have faded— wish I could tell her
I too have slipped off his walls and climbed again
too have tried chewing away his doors—
away, away she runs in the yonder
never once out the chains
a guitar in her dances softly—
as notes try taking her her
— as she tries following

Eyes filling up with every fall,
you'd think she were sinking

a mad girl, they whisper.
Utters wordless words that no one catches
but I too have shouted till could no more
too have cried tongueless tears over vacant airs.
a mad girl, people whisper.
As she looks up in despair, and sobs
her mother harshly pulls her in her lap

She extends out her arms— frightened.
a lover reaching for her submerged beloved
screams as the tree disbands into gusts
taking with himself, her only home

whose sky is green and the ground soft
—leaves ***** at you as insects bite
whose winds whirl about, kissing you slow
slow,
slow,
slow
— their arms around you,
Kissing you— whole— to sleep
where only sound is that of wood talking
and your heart breathing
far—
—far away from the world

a mad girl, I whisper, late that night—

Thirty minutes to go
The clock blinks, smiling
At the fidgeting class

Its green eyes shifting
With sly patience
Pulling everything along

Chairs scrape the hard-wood floors,
Rush, collapse against walls;
The second resets
And they are back again.

All heads sag
Like ochre leaves
We are all trees now,
The dry air of knowledge
Eats our skin.

What?
The soulless buzz of fans
Their bland sobriety
Sloshes, swishes

Past our feet
Like bees
Their honey dripping

Flooding the brains
Muting all images
The professor is a forever sound
We hear, we hear, we grow old

Twenty minutes to go

You turgid, pompous, twitchy, you leave
No room for word. For thought, for
Silence violins, for tip toeing quiet
I am paltry poet, a woman of pursed lips
And body twined like a thread between
Your thoughtless finger and thumb
I was to dress in weightless garments
And skip a cricket about the greens
There was nothing in me contained.
You fill me up like a memorial wall

And dust me everyday before dawn
And you polish the hundred frames
That hang with mirrors clean as sun
Within which peer the hundred eyes
Of people who mourn themselves sweet
And a sag of roses red as me
Mourning itself about my feet
You bring me no gifts but a sorrow
That is not mine. With kisses sharp
As lemons, you soothe me then
Into the night, and you wipe the faces

Clean and you love me till I am
Mirror again. I was no dream
contorted in memory to a clever liking
I was to dress in simple garments
and write off to the seas, I was silence,
Simply, slow and tender, come
To lurk and stray in senseless song
I was word. I was word. I was word.
You with your hundred eyes of love

Swift with hands that move like flames
Flicker, stone, sand, stars, applause
You fatten me up like a suitcase
With your hundred other faces of me
And it burns like music, it is daisies
And sugar, you - beast, bountiful,
Beautiful and blighty, I want to
Clutter myself up with you - by Lord,

But, need I get up and go
And twist and twist myself till
It's dead. Then turn and bleed in peace
For long - then void and white - love,
You will. You will not kiss me again
To sleep.

to those who randomly go around disliking comments:
I hope it makes you happy.

There are boys everywhere

If you go down the street
to buy some floor of wheet
If you walk up a school hall
or just stop by a shoe stall
Go to the moor for a walk
visit the neighbor for a talk
If you go to the store for pills
or run happily up the hills
If buying a dress for a ball
or some wool to knitt a shall

There are boys everywhere.

Don't ever go out late at night
Change the path at their sight
don't ever look them in the eyes
Even if you wear a disguise
Hide yourself in layers of clothes
Walk in chains you ardently loathe,
adorn your hands with rings, stones
Then cover 'em up like skin on bones
Don't question the tightrope or cell
You'll be protected in this shell

There are boys everywhere

When they play you the sheep
You, my love, are not to weep
When they pull out their daggers
And start bruising you to shatters
You, my child, are to stay silent
Or they'll only get more violent
They're stronger, they're all around
Walk, run, fly, you they surround

There are boys everywhere.

If you peek into their playful eyes
they'll hypnotise you with their lies
If you try following them away
they'll leave you alone and astray
Don't you even reveal your skin
Even if they call you their kin
They'll crush you to mere ashes
and then laugh at their clashes

There are boys everywhere.

Don't smile or laugh too loud
they'll follow you out like a cloud
Don't step out of your prison house
They're cats, you a mere mouse
Don't draw curtains to sniff flowers
You know not all of their powers
stay in, don't whine, cover up
Walk slow, hide away, quieten up.

There are boys everywhere.

This is how it all has always been
There's so much you haven't yet seen
they say we were made to be used
and then thrown away when bruised
Say they they'll show us the world
Stuff then our mouths at a single word
It is how it is, it is how it ever was
there's no reason, there's no cause.

There are boys everywhere.

But, darling, I've suffered it all
and you're walking the same fall
I'll give you an advice tonight
Next time at their sight, don't fright
Look in the eye and let out a laugh
Walk up to then, play not the calf
And I know, my baby, I know
how tired you are of folks, but go

Where there are boys everywhere.

Go there, a flame in your fingers
run, burn down their rules to cinders
Go there, a faith blooming in your heart
fly, aim and fire then your perfect dart
When they laugh, love, don't you fall
When they snarl, you bravely stand tall
Go, open the chains, help all of us out
If they talk and joke, lion, you shout

When there are boys everywhere.

It's easy to give up and play the prey.
All the myths, you and I will slay.
I'll pick you up when you crumble
You hold my hand when I stumble
We'll take together this barren walk
We'll be the ones to light up the spark
Darling don't you hide anywhere
Even if there are boys everywhere.

      They cut
                your petals
                             not your
                                       w i n g s.

lightening runs down my being
hair waking up from a deep slumber
and my skin strangely alive
I shiver with a lovely rhythm
the way clouds do on cold, dry days

tongue moving mutely, my lips emit words
as empty as crumbled up papers themselves
a drizzle, cut, perhaps some windy sprinkle
cut, sunshine, cut, pour, cut, gusts, cut
dry, still, silent air; she whispers to me

I freeze to the sky, eyes stuck over a void
no verses, no words, not even a sigh
I melt to ground, as silent as the moon itself,
but moon needs no words to write poetry
I do, my silence isn't euphony, I don't emit hope
words don't bow themselves before me
I do before them, none of me matters

I'm just my words. I am an old parchment
that was too full to be filled with words.
I roam around with the wind, stepped on by birds.
gone on unwritten, unheard, unseen
lightening running down my body
I tremble, still as stone, empty as a corpse.

12:30 am

today I am not
what I was yesterday
and I know it sounds bold
but it is really
a simple thing to say

as a vine coils a little bit
with every wake of day
so do we children
slowly on the way

and something of night
always remains
even as it turns
from us away

and something of sea
visits unchanged
upon the changing bay

so, today I am not
what I was yesterday
but some of me lingers
and in future it will stay

Straight hair make me look more beautiful and less myself
Exactly what I thought I wanted.
Now I look at the girl in front of me and I wonder how she has changed
she writes down same stories of tragic hopes, as I do
her heart, like mine, beats in a tentative rhythm, confused by the tides of sentimental emotions that seem so vacant
she too gets tired of playing the pawn, she too drags the still of her being down the road of survival
she too struggles to love me
How, I've loved her and hated her for a young longevity
yet something in her is dimmer than the skinny, short girl that used to make faces at me
something about her sleek hair is less beautiful than the Hornet's nest on the tiny girl's head
Something in the valley of her lips, some glimmer in her eyes;
as if forcefully electrified. The little girl's eyes glimmered like a moon's,
mother once said the sun of her soul illuminated the black of her eyes.
I wonder what she'd say now.
But I am well acquainted with the source of the absence, and my partner is too.
We know too well. We know too well when we let go of our pearly little courage.
We know too well that as our eyes lingered at the boxes of hair-straighteners down the aisle, our courage felt a threat arriving.
But we were still young then, still little suns, so we let our mothers hold our hands and walk us out of the seducing store.
We know too well how our courage weakened when we envied our friends' mighty strands, straight and still like dead snakes hanging.
So as our polished fingers gripped on to the box, years later, our courage grew afar but then, we had decided not to notice.
I see her now.
She's right there, the little girl.
Behind me, behind my image
she speaks like a vivid memory, I smell sunshine blooming around her uncombed curls. Her spotted skin is clearer than our nails will ever be. The light of her lashes flutter more than our strands.
There she stands, no paint, no cloud.
She looks like a naked sun.
She tells us to wash our hair back to bushes; to enliven our faces, let powdered streams run down our necks. She doesn't mention our claws but more than once do we catch her staring. Says if she could pluck those dried petals out our lashes, she would.
Says if she could burn that hair-iron down to embers, she sure would.
Says if she could come out and hug us both till we loved each other once more, she would.
We stare at our sketched smiles, glossy valleys as if blood aching to drip. The nails that could clench at a soul and pull it out. Eye-lids weighed down by lashes, skin tired out by icing.
For a moment we let the hopeful silence swirl around us.
For a while, lost in battle of deciding between girl's eyes' shine or our crystal gloss, we still.
But it's too much.
Too hard to give it all up.
To wash away the mask, we'd have to peel off the skin. Bringing the hair back to life would be the death of us.
Too much, too hard, to quick, maybe later, just last time, step by step, some day, not now, too much..

Then we go back to burning our hair to numbness, dabbing dusts on
our shameful faces.
We're great painters.
We know that because when the little girl silently walks away, out of our reach, out of our eyes; when we are left on our own
we hardly recognise the artefacts we have created.

Hello poetry
Hello p**try
H'llo poetry

your 502 bad gateways are
freaking me out
I got no copies of
all my ******* man