Don’t blame me for i have no command of words.
They fell upon my head on a thoughtfall
and i caught what i could.
and i ducked a lot,
otherwise they could have crushed me.
i am not a good poet
and no good a writer,
but a hell of a shambolic trier.
sorry for the wind in my head,
i am just a residue of what the storm has left.

Hope is dead,
and it's been for a while.
Only illusion of happiness lurks in the sky.
I dreamt of future, full of joy,
but have to live with what i've got.
Lately, was i hungry for a wise men talk,
collected jewels of human thought,
but now, the years have drained it all
and the gossip of fools is all i want.

A thought, that came out of nowhere made me stuck in free-fall.
There is no way to trace it back, where it belonged.
It jolted me out of my comfort and slumber and led me down the untrodden paths.
What would i find there? Nothing, but oblivion.
I would wrap myself up in a coat of vacuum,
breaking a thin boundary between worlds.
I'd take a long walk for no reason.
And I don't need eyes to see the truth.
Neither ears, to hear the lies.
Nor tongue, to prove my worth.
I need only toes, to walk,
to feel the footprints of ages and leave my own beside.
One has to be blind to open the eyes and see through the fabric of life,
to wear the talks out and leave the silence behind,
to hush,  startle around and listen to the voice of time.
How easy could haven been for you to understand me!
How close you could have been to my soul!
But you wouldn't step near,
you would stumble around and walk away,
without knocking the door.
Do you know the feeling of coming to life and soon be tired of living,
to look at the stars and see only sparks,
to be blind to surprise and wonder,
to become surreal,
to turn into funnel of thoughts.

I burnt in the flames of passion,
then languished at the bottom of despair,
to loose the grip of reason
and lay my soul to bare.

let me find respite under your stealthy coat,
running from the dreariness of noon
and the troubles of the day,
to the mystery of stygian darkness,
the visit, i come to pay.

day holds me in cage,
night sets me free
from the burden of identity,
the necessity to be me.

only the sense of fleeting time
and the fact that i am almost twenty nine,
years spent,
wandering half a life,
makes me pretend to be wise,
though i am still a careless child,
fond of tales and flirty rhymes,
heedless to the warning chimes,
i can't be different,
nor i can be nice.
No i dont expect you search for me, girl.
for i am not a treasure or a pearl.
read my writings if you want poison for the soul.

mind is full of uncertainty
and will is chained to ground
heart is choking under the weight of loneliness
and it seems there is no way out

don't have memories to recall
all are gone like momentary joy
and faces of people i used to know
can tell anything no more

i have never been to this kind of state
with no hope and no regret
jolted by the wind of fate
here and there, pathetic and disgraced

Time shifts and flips beneath your feet.
The world revovles at a high speed.
Men are in constant fidgeting,
knowing not, what they need.
It is a job of a broken man,
sitting puzzled at the bank of a dried up river, hoping for a good catch,
to speculate on chances *******,
friends lost,
money spent,
feelings trashed,
and values tossed.
I "love" this time, of followers,
sheep-minded folks, desperate for a shepherd, just as Israelis of ancient begged for a king, because every nation had one.
I have to admit, that man is a puppet after all,
of other men or other idols,
of his own image or his own soul.
It is wise to stop the first urge.
It is wise to deny the first impression.
It is ok to stay at bay, while others swim.
It is ok to stay alone, when others dance.
So, uncool is cool!
Do you get this, fool?
Cause you have no time to mull over what you do.
Rip off the veils,
throw out your amulets,
admit you are weak and mortal.
This is your chance to get near God,
to become the master of your own thoughts.
What for, this pomp?
Of faceless mob,
which very soon
will go to slump.
Its inessential outcry
and denial of truth
seems childish goof
with no real proof.
Wait till its plans get destroyed by death.
So, is it wise to get excited?
Is it prudent to get depressed?
Neither way will bring you good.
Neither path will lift your stress.
Wait for incoming blessing
and if its about to befall,
we'll find out the turn of fate.
Does a little misfortune break
your stance? Does your world stand
on crippled legs?
Beware where to put your faith,
it might have shifty floor or ugly face.
Dont trust beauty, it's always camouflaged. You'll pay a fortune for a broken egg.
Imagine when pretty face gets spoiled by a spot of dirt on a tip of nose. It will change whole plot. Heroes will die and villains emerge.
Someone will sit at the bank of a dried up river,
pondering over a lost chance,
hoping for a good catch.
If you do something, do it for its own sake. For the artistry of moves, complexity of thoughts, delicacy of forms and deepness of meaning.
If you'd had something common with holy, you could have  been enlightened
to see that nothing is as it seems.
You could have heard God soothing
to your ears. You could have pillaged your ship built on ancient lies and would have drowned to the deepest bottoms. You would have wanted to be in a free fall, have nothing to stick to, nothing to hold to, no one to rely on. Then you would have relized that freedom is in falling, freedom is in drowning. You might splash the colors and spit the words and call it a self-expression. But you are only a subconsciousness of a sleeping oppression. You can be a fool, but still talk wise. You can be an ugly, but still look nice. Do you have something for yourself to suprise. Before audience gets bored, ready to rise. Unleashing craze with devilish eyes.
Everyone today is  an entertainer.

an unexpected poem is a lightning strike
jolted bolt in a morning stride
it has no rhyme and no design
just careless words, sold for a dime

you find them in a forgotten street
under deep waters and dark creeks
beneath the cold of  fallen leaves
they are not pearls or golden bricks
but a ***** cork of mortal trees

You came to me around a time
when i was extremely vulnerable,
stripped to the feet of my soul,
you struck me to sunder.
I was captivated by the radiance of your spirit,
for i was blind.
My thirsty and depleted mind fell prey to your magic,
your play of words,
your dance of thoughts.
I had no means to defend.
I was hopeless before your charms.
This came,
for i was always drawn to mysterious spirits,
ones originating contagious wisdom,
who talk through glances,
who laugh with eyes.
what is more pleasant than a discourse of mates,
fallen in love with each others mind.
I feel,
I could lay down my life for the unlocker of my soul,
who splashes back my reflection.
Why is so hard to find the sighted.
All around me are men
in darkness
with eyes wide open,
foreheads perennially knocking the wall.
I'll keep wandering,
for it is the best i can.

Why do i embarked on a poem this regular morning?
Guess i was overflowed by a particular thought or feeling,
or became uncertain about existence.
Perhaps i love the charade of words.
There were people around and inside,
but the void was preeminent.
No one can claim that knows how to live or found the truth.
Its just another lie to indulge ourselves in.
Meaning is found in the unexpected.
It is how you felt about weather on that day.
Just as affection is a fault of mind,
a glitch that God chose not to fix.
I think, what the world would turn,
if you let me in,
but its only a thought.
I've never loved you,
I was a liar.
I was captivated by unconscious drive for nothing.
I've told you, how the world would change, if you take me in.
But actually it wouldn't at all.
I'll be the same for ages,
uncertain and playful.

Whether I count places I've never been,
and friends I hadn't
Perhaps,
it doesn't matter,
for as long as I live, I keep them forgetting.
Encounters I could have had,
romances I might have enjoyed,
- it's all a figment in the end,
wishful dream,
after all.
My heart is cold,
though sun is shining,
and I remember what you've told on the day of departing,
that I am ridiculously old,
and my jokes are disgusting,
then you left and said nothing,
but since I hadn't changed a bit,
and I am still discussing,
the subtleties of good and bad,
in my head,
the peculiarities I've never had,
and how you loved me undiscovered.
I wish I dreamt of you coming back
but the moment is never endless,
and no greater joy will heal me out,
cause my sickness
   - is my sadness.

Farook M.S.

Sun rises, sending its light across the universe.
What have you prepared for me, the incessant fate?
A day of joy or day of sorrow,
How long will l be fooled by this trickery?
Will l ever learn the rules of game?

i walk the streets in this lovely morning
and think of nothing
but a simple poem
the trees are golden
and birds are free
it's all there is
what you like to see

do science, toiling, thriving, seeking for truth
indulge, being wrapped in a clout of mysteries
get amused, startled, taken aback
Dive into arguments, fall prey to curiosity
be slave of God, worshipper of its wisdom and beauty
Make you ardent preacher, passionate admirer
Lover of good, fighter of truth
What are we, after all?
Wandering creatures

My view is constricted by experience,
of which, i supposedly have none.
I am challenged by every senior of every rank
for words i've said and things i've done.
But lo and behold,
this very world,
there is something to be told.
I've never touched the cupola of heaven,
but i've seen the face of God
in every tree and every flesh,
across the seas and hot dry lands
i've found the reason and the source of change,
that breaks the shells and sifts through air
with pure wisdom and gentle care,  
spreading traits of life,
that got us here.

Could you stay the same
Many years away
When glory in the flames
And faith has gone astray

Will you be the same
Many miles away
When love’s so badly failed
And you’ve got no word to tell
To make her come back

Can you stay the same
When parents in the grave
And you will never see
your daddy’s friendly face

When mom’s kind reply
Won’t calm you in the night
And home will never hear
Her childish joy, delight

Will you be the same
When friends will claim your wealth
They shut the door before you
And tell to go away

Will i be the same
when this poem’s dead
and no one will remember
pretty words i’ve said

can you stay the same
when hit by success
all acclaim your name
and dance with no recess

Would you be the same
after pouring rain
when drops had crawled your ears
and washed away your  brain

is there place to hide
in the raging storm
down the ocean’s tide
under the warmth of stones

will you be the same
when failure strike you lame
you seek refuge
from overwhelming shame
people will point their fingers
and say you're out of game

i doubt you can decide for sure
in failure, grief, success or glory
you stay the same
and will endure
no being sorry,
no giving way to worry,
relentless, strong and wise

would you stay the same
never looking back
With uncertain future
And forgotten past

Will you still be praying
When thrown into hell
For sins you’ve not committed
And thoughts you’ve never had
Or will you keep faith in God
When no evidence is given
Knowing deeds you’ve done
Will never be forgiven

Can you love a person
Despite the conditions
On any circumstances
Regardless admonitions
When you’ve spent everything
But received no prize
Would you be determined
To make another try

I imagine the late september rain, dripping on your head
and drawing delicate curves on your cheeks.
Would i remember this moment of serendipity,
trying to unveil the truth in your eyes,
unaware of future peril, oblivious to your betrayal, careless child,
enchanted,
entrhralled,
unmindfull of the state of the world.
I would have drowned into eternity this way.
I could have scattered my fears away.
I might have forgotten the misery,  the longing.
If you could only stay for a time. If you could only delay the fleeting of the moment.
If you could only halt the breaking of the day.