Walking art you are
Finger paint spread all over
Red,Green,Purple,Blue
Just to name a few of them
Worth more than any painting

The road was laid

from very long time

Trees did blossom

covering all branches

Lake was full

cuddling with fish

Sun, visitor at light

moon played all night

Starlings came by to sing

while rabbits stayed along

Rain was there to nourish

from season to season

A dip of paint

and the brush went on.

let the winds keep blowing against us,
let the sun blow his rage onto us,
let the water rush around us,
for they can't harm,
as long as we are 'us'
-memoona kazmi

i am scared,
by the brutal judgement of the world,
hide me under your wings,
let your kindness shelter me,
veil me in your love,
-memoona kazmi

Leave the inner world
for the world outside the walls,
procure supplies,
then, return again.
That's the plan, Stan.

Feet meet cement block.
You remember the last time
we took this walk?
As well as I do.

Insert a line I've used before,
commenting on the violet hues
of parting suns, painting the
skies above us as we go for bread.

Instead of hidden knives,
I pull a hand and offer it
as we cross the overpass.
If you're scared in day,
you're terrified at night.

Without a pause, you're reaching out,
grasping for a comfort, now.
Easy, is it? I'll bet it is.

If life has taught me anything,
the most important change
is that I learn to zip my mouth.

Joy equates to nothing more
than what others see in store,
and go on to demand of me.

Lamb's Bread from The CDC
replaces intensity
I've lost to love, with smoke.

Light it up, and let it go.

I post a warning,
old friend:
I feel violently
about everything
you remember.

Like when
American iron
thrummed the air
all the way down
to Richmond.

Your future wife
had uneven floors.
I said hello
& was defined by it,
I was just
hello forever.

Peeling paint
rubbed off
on my fingers
as you two
went up
the braid of stair.

You in your
old shirt,
while I stood
unsteady,
filled with
the glassy venom
of cheap gin.