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What were you expecting for
that always thinking somebody shouts in the wind…
in an empty frame, there are eyes under sunglasses,
May be
sad…
Anxious
or
Untrue
Nobody knows what is the fact.
.
.
in the  train station where you stand for an appointment
mass mess violently.
and
trains run hastily in
front and back of your memories strange.
.
.
A message from
Somebody may  
Bright the morrow…
Or
lost dandelions may scatter everywhere.
things rarely happen.
things you are expecting and things make you not to stay in one place or mood
where
trains move hastily... and
nobody knows what will happen to future, what will happen to you. what will happen to ....?
and
what will happen.....again?
Being devoured by black holes, the last star, used to be gleaming upright. Dancing and dancing in harmony of an oval ladder of the milky wayward.
Brilliant
               Smart
                        Honorable, alight
but…treacherous, unkind…(destiny)
Diffuse disharmony to astray aster entangled in abstruse cosmos of profound dignity each and every side.
And, now…
She…
buried in cold soil of nasty livid dust.
How?
o…Profound dignity, look up and countdown. From ten billion to one,
none is as brilliant as the last shining one.
Not in the galaxy (ia) – the last emanate of big-bang award-
but…
in our mind was any black hole allows to suffocate the lustrous kind.
our last- this is our pray-be alive and shine….on and on...rise and shine.
you are always alive in our mind.
In memory of Maryam Mirzakhany
A
Rose  in dust
a rose is nice
Petals are healthy
red dark arch
sun shines hot
Leaves seem (up)right
gazing the height
green emerald
From land to ace
Ace of the sky march.
Rose is nice
Roots in dust
Feature is rouge
Of the shame love trust
Bud…bud…bud
Blossoms of the yard.
Yard is land
Land is grand
vast soil of the hand
light crimson band
Wind blows harsh
Fences move hard
Trees far behind
Shake each side
Men come down
The first one talk
The last one mock
Both of whom walk
Touch the soft land
Ha…ha…ha…
Soil is empty
Dark…dark…dark
Land full of soil
Soil full of worm
Worm is sick
Nasty nabid pick
Become lot... lot ...lot
Every day and night
Wind blows harsh
Spring moves fast.
Man is running
Worm is cunning
man in hurry
Ha…ha…ha…
rose is worry.
worm moves straight
move..more…away…
move…more…away…
hurry…hurry…again
swirl…sweep…d­eep…
digging…digging…*****
man runs far
seeking new boudoir.
rose is alone
poisonous thing around
soil is shaking
grand land kicking
man sing a song
.
.
man, wine, wrong
happy, happy long
wind blows harsh
autumn seize the yard.
rose is sick
petal withered down
no leaves green
gazing to the sun
rose is nice
rose is kind
death moves around
happy stands behind.
far...far...bahind!
Under the inspiration of "The Sick Rose" by William Blake.

— The End —