I watch as the droplet eases itself
down from the wound, into a strip of paper,
scarlet on crimson. some might call it a stain,
but this is no mistake, I will fold myself
in, like blush on cheek, I will make it look real.

is it pathetic to imitate what we can never achieve?
the night sky gloats in silent mockery. the trail of
her dress drags along my dry eyes, and she burns
a hole for every jewel I cannot reach.

is it a sin to covet a sin? my fingers run along
the grooves of my carved pupils, and I can't
remember anything aside from the warmth
of a star in another orbit.

I fold my three hundred and fifty second paper star.
Does the moon believe that these are her children too?
Or are my paper cuts for naught? One day, I know
the paper will be skin and the star will be a sun.

but until then I will bleed, and until then
I will have to suffice with a constellation of scars
that glow in the dark on my ceiling.

It was the first drop of blood,
that kissed my messy room surface,
Scars were too tired to be wet again beside my eyes,
The room was darker than a little bright,
It was the period where sunset took over,
the command of sunlight...

The second drop sprinkled on the floor,
they too, were unaware of the pain,
or it's colour, or the ecos of roar,
who else knew I was dying alone,
in my beloved city, as an unknown...

The third drop carried a lot together,
It took over the brightness of sunlight and the surface,
the smog of burning diaries was the reminder
that it's gonna be late night before complete darkness,
and I giggled now for dealing with it really less...

The last shadow of yours left,
was the time of the last drop, the last breath,
I fell on the floor, over the red ashes,
but unlike you I loved, again and again,
blood denied to enter again through my vein...

Through my open eyes, I saw a body lying in solitary,
a painful death in the holy city,
pale eyes, devastated face, and a burnt diary,
It was all here that I could find,
I opened it's last page with my shivering hands,
"A whole book could have I written for you,
but like the mystery of life, you can't be defined..."

You’ve got 99 problems but your loyalty is one,
you’ll never solve them now the World Cup is done.
Achieved by your colours that aren’t so true,
by a Nation that once treasured you.
Gretzky I believe your reign is through.

You used to shoot and inevitably you’d score,
imagine the disappointment of each Gord.
Keep the red and white but add the blue,
betray a Nation that once treasured you.
Gretzky; no longer number one not even two.

Keep your guns and keep your hate,
Canada’s not your fifty-first state.
We’ve always been a Country, one that’s great.

Went to a room and ignored the sign,
now we’ve changed the labels and removed your wine.
Disappointed in what you would do,
to a National that once treasured you.
The sadness and anger only grew.

An apology that will come too late,
Canada will never be your fifty-first state.
Not up for discussion or debate.

A concept you should understand,
you can’t put a “for sale” sign on our land.
The death of a legend came from the hands
of a bad man and a bad plan.
No longer the greatest of all time
after you’ve committed the greatest of crimes.

We won’t take the tariffs or the bait,
Canada will never be your fifty first state.
We’ll cement the actions and the date.

So stay in exile as is it your fate,
Canada won’t be your fifty first state,
cause it’s the one, the one that’s great.

When the earth celebrates
        a solar year,
The cost of life whispers
        in my ear.
It rose up, the easy act
        won't backup.
The easiness of faceless
        is being asked,
"What is it the result?" I ask.
It's easy for people to leave.
It's easy to be devalued.
It's easy for mind to linger past.
It's easy to reminisce moments,
Cherished memories— yet to be
         closed as a chapter.
It's paradoxical—they face the same.
"What is it the result?" I ask.
It's paradoxical—they feel the same.

Two candles, side by side,
Arms of thread—their aid—
Wrapped around as they hug,
Gracious flames of burning shrug.

Two candles, side by side,
They burned and radiated light.
Hesitance grew as they stood;
They burned their thread—passionate mood.

One cried, the other raged.
Flames engulfed the fabric red.
Two candles, side by side—
A burning heart, in between, laid.

Smaller the candles grew,
Glory to the light they drew.
One burning, the other hides—
Two candles, held side by side.

tell me what you see
when you look at me
of course you see the same thing
the same thing I see

of course you see the same
ugliness and darkness
of course you notice
the emptiness and worthlessness

of course you see the same
because there's no prettiness
no worth, no light, no fulfillment
Tell me how you notice the things you say you do!

They tried to **** him
They tried to jail him
They tried to discredit him
They tried to remove his dignity
They spread lies about him
Tried to throw him into the fire

All it did was sharpen his resolve
He rose to meet the challenge
He refused to be broken by them
He refused to bend the knee
To their hedonism  
He welcomed discomfort
He was relentless
And did what needed to be done
Fight, fight, fight

He has earned my respect

__________

"Madam, would you kindly remove
this arrow from my heart?"

"No, I think I'll wait until infection
sets in."

"How cruel you are."

Mystic land beyond the sea
Far away, but still I can see
Rise of screams and calamity
And I see no peace in their destiny

Mystic land beyond the sea
Not being what it meant to be

Do you know what I mean?
I say to you haven't you seen?

What's rising beyond the sea haven't you seen
Do you know what I mean?
Just listen, their cries
Which resound the skies

Mystic land beyond the sea
Harshly suffering away from you and me
Then how can we,
Live lively when they're suffering desperately?


By Hiba Mubashir

We sit and stare
No conversation
To share,
Drinking slowly
Time going  slow
It’s like being in
An orchard  where
Apples don’t grow.
Closing the highways
Is not our thing
Our songs
had great
Lyrics and
we could sing,
So why our we staring
No talk to share
Let’s get them growing
Them apples and pears.

Love is a moon, it

changes from day to day, there's --


increase, there's decrease.

It feels like all I do is work and go home
Like I exist only to act like a stone
No love or conviction is needed by me
But all that I want is to be free
Like a bird I long to be up in the clouds
High in the sky and away from the crowds
But while my two feet are planted on land
The meaning of life seems instead bland

Oh do you know how it feels
To be the tree that falls in a wood
With no one to hear it?

Was it even there to begin with?

The sweetest love
Can melt the heart
It moves the soul.
It leaves a trace
A warm feeling
A beautiful glow

If I was American, I think
I’d find it more ecological
to go on a waiting list than
buy a gun to suicide myself.

The night was veiled in silken mist, where moonlight bled like lips once kissed.
A ghostly pearl in shadows spun, a silent watcher, pale and numb.

Through the fog, its whispers weaved, a silver hymn the dark conceived.
Soft as sorrow, cold as sin, it traced the earth, yet breathed within.

The wind, a phantom, slow and white, brushed through bones with cruel delight. A porcelain touch—so light, so thin, yet laced with whispers luring in.

And in the woods of emerald deep, where darkness curled and secrets sleep, the trees stood still, their voices low, like specters carved in velvet woe.

A night of beauty, sharp as blades, where moonlight kissed, yet love decayed.
For all that haunts, for all that calls, is both the lure—and the fall.

But never did I know, beneath the glow,
If this night, so haunting, was friend or foe.
For in the world, the darkest things,
Are not the night, but what mankind brings.

I never felt the vampire's breath,
Nor the chill of its icy death.
For all that haunts and pulls you near,
Is not the beauty, but the fear.

Chill of a northern town —
rows of orange streetlights pour,
light on red brick walls.

I am the wind-torn flag
He who flies in its force
But no longer feels its touch

Ask me about beauty.
I’ll say it’s the battle of the opposites,
so tragically blind that they are one; forever entwined in redamancy.

Your tenor can't quite
     land pitch right. Feckless warbles.
The songbirds' been choked.—

I was sitting by a man
and his face disturbed me

That was the end of it.
I saw him a little bit later on a box
down by the arcade, next to the filth. Gone since Tuesday

I still hated his face

The weather may change,
So may the ages of time.
The lack of constant,
Is the nature of life.

They say time heal all wounds
And though that may be true
For the majority of scenarios
It’s not an irrefutable fact

For our childhood scratches
May be a fleeting kind of pain
Yet there are some scars that life
Engraves deep within our soul

Like a bullet whose trajectory
Missed my heart by a few inches
But hit a far more damaging target
My very last bit of innocence

Now, when I look into the mirror
Every broken bone lost its meaning
And the echoes of who I once was
Are all that remains to be seen

Why do you make me so uncomfortable
standing there just so quietly, waiting,
for words which just aren't there

If we could reel back time
I would retract that promise which
somehow was expressed to you,
probably by an intimate embrace
or perhaps by a mirrored reflection
of your own fantasy

But let me just say - I wish you
would comfort me by your absence

On a tight rope
Between spiders webs
Swaying in the wind
Life flows and ebbs

Rain crashes down
Choices to be made
To run back or ahead
My vision it fades

To my rights whats known
The ideal bubble
From whats been told
Risen from the rubble

To my left it whispers
A gentle caress
It sparkles, it glimmers
Feels free from the mess

If I turn to my left
A cord tugs my back
Could I free myself
To cut some slack

Seems if I let go
Ill fall to fate
Will I fly to the sky
Or claim check mate

Taking a deep breath
I release whats safe
Trust in the unknown
With this leap of faith