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In and out of the dreaded dream,
when all I see at night is my own nightmarish reality.

Until I accept the truth, constantly scrambling in my head,
I will not know myself and the stress and worry that could leave me dead.

I sit on this thought and ponder the point to our world,
when will I find myself, escape, and find my own hidden pearl.

I discovered the perfect pearl with an unmatched beauty or swirl,
only reminding me of the waving patterns in your flowing hair and locks of golden curls.

Growing strong and seeing the truth.

While I become the man who drank from the fountain of youth.
Pinnacle moments pass us by quickly and sharply.
Cynical thoughts control the fear marking out goals in Sharpie.

Mental games of why do I deserve such pain, even partly,
and coinciding emotions of loss amongst those not even as lovely, I finally feel this pain heartily.

One bad decision, one bad night, one terrible choice is the only ignition that was needed to begin the arson.
My apology was weak and imitated the sincerity of a disgruntled garçon, still in disbelief that my train of thought was easily that of a *****.

Love is a fickle sport we play and the secret formula is still out of my reach.
I will metamorphize into the one who is cracking the glass towards the anticipatory breach.
A lesson you subconsciously teach and I see that not all past stains can be cleaned with even the most powerful bleach.

I now know how I hurt you with my actions and eternal contract breach, like Richard Nixon I deserve the death penalty charge of being impeached, making you now just out of reach.

All I can say is sorry for all I have done, I love you, but I guess it's just a figure of speech.
Bag
For what it's worth I've come to find that people and things ****** over make like lead pockets. Old business is just old business and yet the mouth stays sour, curdles at its ends like milk left out. I wash my hair and wash it again.

How do you **** a city? Not a short-change of ideas or institutions. A city. People, granite columns. Street lamps. Long lines of wooden benches. Car horns.

Bags and bags of bug-out gear: drop point knife; feather-stuffed bedroll; one dozen pouches, depositories. The **** is the escape.

The drop point.

Some thing in all of us wants a way out. It aches for freedom. Messy, nasty freedom, sweet as it is.
Portions of this poem borrow words from various episodes of the TV series Mad Men.
 Dec 2016 Masked Voice
Jellyfish
I start to tremble
and the tears come next
I haven't cried in a while
But when I miss you like this,
It's hard not to...
I love you
Man can play tricks with man but not with Lord
If he does so he will be taken by assaults of hell
Where he will be dealt with for his mischief hard
And will be imprisoned by burning fire to dwell

Wise people use sincerity, remain helping hand  
Bad ones astray like dogs in their sheer negligence
Apparently they may evolve just castles of sand
The miserable end will not give time for repentance

Still it is better not to play beyond verdict of God
Otherwise complete destruction will be the end
One should bow and seek forgiveness from Lord
Before one is broken it is better to gracefully bend

Col Muhammad Khalid Khan
Copyright 2016 Golden Glow
Love has very many colors and very many shades
Which dominate,cover every sphere of human life
Beauty has its own wonderful sophisticated blades
Love remains on the altar , on sharp edge of knife

God Himself is an emblem of love  spread streaks
On His verdict love and beauty were sent as beams
He himself is so  beautiful and appreciates beauty
With His gracious graces and charms makes all free

When we worship God we praise beauty and love
It is certitude which makes our faith really strong
Follower of light is on right path from verdict above
We praise virtue ,which is love and beauty in song

Col Muhammad Khalid Khan
Copyright 2016 Golden Glow
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