The feeling was good
It was reeling and rocking
Along the rocky shores
Foaming at the point
Of eternity
Where a ship died
Underwater
Trenchant
Where the treasures lie

This emptiness quiets my voice
On the brink of never speaking again

Kurdish lands
Revolving with universe
Beautifully
Hands of war
Grab at your dying soldiers
The tree keeps it's
Summer of solidarity
Amidst the hell
Raises Moses
And his waters
Parting the seas
Keeps the river of stygian souls
Flowing through the branches
Of the sticks of a voodoo child
Can break stones
Of Muslim extremism
Tree of life
Lies with the knowledge
Masking the water
Meant for the mass
Pointing at the apples
I realize the oranges
Taste better with the scruples
Of war

Cut and trimmings mummified in your dreams in the cool of the evening
Lithe, and it's pottery

Rocks on the ocean
Bring the water
To hold its
Faltering heart
At the center of a storm
White as fear
After being lost from
So afar

Some of us
Are born
Happy
Some of us
Are born
Unhappy
In death
I chose love over happiness
It was my mistake
That I didn't know
They aren't mutually exclusive
At least I died a thousand deaths
And lived a thousand lives
And sang a thousand songs
Maybe, even loved a thousand lovers
When it came to be shown
To the exit
A thousand questions came
To my mind
The answers to all my questions
Was love
So I asked the doorkeeper
What is the secret behind
Inner peace
He told me
There is no greater love
Than letting passion ****
You slowly
I understood
I was born happy
But, I was born to be loved
Therefore, I was destined to be unhappy
If I thought I was alone
A thousand deaths wasn't enough
I had died a lonely soul
And I still didn't understand
What he meant by passion
How can one feel passion
Without life
In my confusion
I shouted at him
I am already dead!
He replied
You need to look at yourself
Truly
And stop thinking with fear
Have you ever cried?
Have you ever loved with your spirit?
Have you ever loved yourself?
In the end
It is the love we have received
That we can give
Otherwise men are destined to be cruel
And subjects of cruelty
If you think you can
Have a legacy
Without a sensible idea of peace
No one will understand you
No one will want to
That is your destiny
Which you believe will save you
From a pitiful conclusion
One without peace
Will know violence is like fear
It tears your soul
And affects others
Even when you are busy
Using your head
Then I finally said
Am I ready?
He asked
Ready for what?
I sort of asked in an impatient voice
To die a man without love?
He crossed his eyebrows
Curled his fingers
Considering my incongruous statement
And ruminated
I asked him, incredulous
What do you think you are doing, being silent?
He immersed himself in the cosmic ocean
I jumped to save him
And found salvation in rescuing his soul
From the clutches of rivers
The pernicious verses of Hell's gates
Under the porous cover of the night
He had deceived me
By telling me he knew all about death
At least, I found that I truly knew love
Peace never came
As a leopard never finds satisfaction
Chasing prey that runs away easily
Is the joy of living
And the struggle of resolution
A resilient person
Will know the difference
Between a hundred revisions
And a million doubts
A wise man knows when to stop
Sounding foolish is not bad at all
I noticed that the doorway of paradise
Opened in my mind's eye
And the gates were inscribed
"Where do we go to die?
Where do we go when we die?
Are sometimes the same question
If Hell is the answer."

Floating on the water
Fleeting sense of balance
Fleeing life
To bring peace to my life

There was a man
Sitting like a still river
Surrounded by walls

A guileless look and overcoat
Hugged him tight
As he sat on the cold pavement

The woman slept soundly
A silver moon opened her eyes
She ushered in the moonlight

A sorrowful woman in his overalls
Folded her sleeves to hide the bruise
The sunshine couldn't warm her crying eyes

The walls never heard
As a lonely seagull flew by the violent skies
Where the woman squeals and dies

A scenic route was skimmed with broken pebbles
The city lights dimmed the empty streets
A soundless car drifts here, clandestine

All of the people left for their homes
The seagull stayed to die in the red river
Barely escaping the murmurs on the streets
That enter every corner of her house, where she lies

If we walk as strangers
We meet as pretenders
When we talk as foreigners
We understand each other as natives
If we tread together
Then we walk far from each other
My heart lingers on
What we have common
But, my heart can't mend these differences
Hence, it is broken at the seams
Life is truly beautiful

A sewing machine
Left with the beauty
Of the maiden seam mistress, not sure she should be my nurse

The romance of the yesteryears
Keep the flight of a dance
In the bumblebee synergy
Seems it's all fears
And peas and carrots
Like a stew of yellow lamps and orange shades
The recipe of a direct disaster
Amida the raids
Of a rationed battleground
The war breaks in the sunny west
Where the winter's bright
With the summer it seems
Setting on the night as it's trenchant
Of our near and dears
Peace takes a mind
Of Breed
A pedigree
Of leaks
Terrain is firm
The standing ground is high
With the music low
The yodeling from the south
From my northern seastorm

Among the shells tossed
Up and about, onshore, lie the cones
You can hear the waters climb aloft
In inner curls and twists of sea strands
Of the phantasmagoria of sea mermaids
Heads full of hair kiss the sand
Like mist and horizon to the blue expanse
If I come back to thee
I shall leave knowing we have the same masks
But, different eyes like stones on a sea

I'm sitting on this park bench meant for two
It's the eve of my birthday right after the end of monsoon
The rain falls weakly with a heaviness in each drop
I miss the times when the thunder drowned out the crowd

I still hear them, the whispers of the past in friends lost
Through poetry, I can give a voice to my sensations
I'm able to temper my restless heart
But I promised to keep you safe when you were little

Life is transient with insecurities deeply entrenched
While all my friends like the seasons have been brief
Still I circle this park bench, I see a different youth
Who was changed because of you

A whisper in the south
Called the girl in
The sun set on the frothing waters
And a little innocence went a long way

The storm had just arrived
As the kettle came to the boil
I could've played the flute
In a drunken haze

I spent my days
Exploring the world

You once told me
What happens,
Happens
Now I let waves
Crash and fall

Destiny resides
With the oyster
And pods of circles
Broken clay
That lay sprayed by salt-licked sea beds, untouched

Coral floors
Where you rest
Easy and placid
Lovely and silent
Like warm water

Is like a washed up sail
Caught in the whirlwind
Of fate
I had to brave storms
To stay afloat
Where I found your

Memory once more
And death in a much more
Mysterious way
In the heart of sudden tumult and solace

I am a windsailing boy
A ferry handling sailor
Often the boats pass and go
You are always on my mind
Sometimes I fare through the seas
As I caress your hair and fare through
I know you do not care for the seas
However the salt in the breeze
And the stormy weather
My ephemeral stop at your port
A langorous sunset we shared
Lingers like a memory of me
It matches the sulk that I memorized
Now nothing stays just you and a storm
I hear sailors hearken to move starboard
Nothing remains but the ache
My telescopic view cannot escape
The death I plan for myself
This is the storm that takes me
As the seashore carts me away
Waves lap across the seaside
As your memory fades away perilously

As evidenced
In thine soft eyes
There lay a hardness of obsidian and darkness
Darkest night and ocular sheen
Hypnotize such lasers that shine from her hair
Red and purple with black
The leaves would compliment her head of roses
That leaves crackle under her footstep
If she walks in autumn, then she wanders in summer
If her hair meant to slip through the rug of nature
It would
As her beauty lies in her demeanour
She is a beauty of many seasons
Meet men of many reasons

It's been more
Than 50 years of poetry
And you are dazzling followers

Flowers, diaries on the shelves
I wonder if they still are worth my while
Flowers, diaries on the shelves
The leaves that have gone dry by sitting there

Crisp under my feet
Amidst the thatch and thicket of words
Overhead the images of her lurk
In the pages of my diary now begging for a lover

Flowers in the bright fluorescence of eclipses tonight
Clasping the sunset, hoping the light never dies
As aging does to a venerable man
Shall my heart be left without a captain?

The pages have dust settled in them
Much like the crusted windows of a dingy inn
I had more than a crush by my teenage years
I was a victim once, until I let go of my fears

All my life's a stage, but I've played my part
Moaning the conviction I lacked from the start
Flowers, diaries on the shelves caked in dust
All that is alive tonight is the lust

Enigmatic people come and go
Some lost in their secrets
And some reveling in the World's secrets

Sages have spoke wise words to me
They flow like invisible ink
Through my veins and my world
As the years go by, like grapes turning to ethereal wines
When my heart grows fonder
I sit and think a little about our surreal time
And write a secret poem, timidly
That has passed through ages
Like that invisible print and fabric of time
From me to you and sweet as eglantine and ageless still
Bit by bit as my love turns to malady
My pen loses it's strength and aptitude
My pallid hands clench on the last glimpse of eternity
My penmanship as the Earth cries
Of your simpler times 'twixt with mine
You are simply my Achilles' heel, my depth and picture
It seems as time goes by
The rest of the poem disappears
Like those forgotten beauties and lies
If you light a match underneath the papier
You will find my abstract love suddenly appears under those lines
As invisible ink flows like a sultry tide, true as fire and ice

The bitter words push you away
The kindest ones are kept for a bad day
The sweetest sentences are said in a bad fight
The truest words are reserved for your eyes

My love can push you away
My affection can save us from a bad end
Your kiss can stop a terrible quarrel
But, the truth will end this relationship

Once, I loved you
Now I hear you
In my heart
Like a distant cry in a dark rainforest
I guess it is still raining tears
Because the cries have gone silent
Ever since you went away
Seems different now

As we seep into the loveless sky
Seeing it through with each night
Knowing not what follows
With each kiss, I let out a sigh
Never knowing when it will come back to me, though

Her arms lay beside her side
His ample time lay beside her arms
We held hands, he held them as his own
The right hand of the clock strick off another minute
We decided to leave the loneliness and minutiae
Premonition of repudiating our feelings
Amusement, and parks of recreation
We should be more like apples and less like oranges
That's what they tell us, as they compare our art
Some of us love the doctored fruits and imagery

Some of us hide in the fine-line of shadows and unbeing, just being shadows
I hope someone, begs to differ when seeing this serendipity

The only place for your imagination
Meant for your
Two lips
Were the place
For the right core
Present,

On your hip,
On your eyes,
Your beholder,
To hold your yourself, in society's hands
Judge yourself in their books
Find yourself in their commands and limelight
Seeking what you find, within
The light of differences, and bright communication

Of the interfaces, that are your lips
They are meant to say the right words, and
See-through the vocal soul, and trade men for children
And berate women, to become caregivers and apparitions
We kiss to seek
Better ways to express
Our love, and premonition

Se sont sous vide
A french ramble
Parles vous francaise
Gatsu

For those who are waiting to pay the price
For pursuing excellence
There is a special place in heaven
With a special sign that says

"You don't belong here, my friend."
Stay with us, your family will miss you
Be happy and safe
You matter to us in many ways

The magic of innocence
Lies in absolute deception
Those who are really guileless
Can never deceive the deceiver
And give themselves

But, they are able to love them
It depends on them if they pretend
To care for such people wholeheartedly!

A thousand notes
A thousand pieces of music
Selling them by the pond

A thousand men
A thousand hypocrites
Selling them by the monikers

A thousand great people
A thousand women
Selling them by fame, disappearing into the moonlight that semaphores disappearance

Our dreams alive, in three songs
You looking to get ******, in the arms of what's going on
Touch about the reality, of the great good of the hearts of the nosegay I took a nosedive, or the opened up fire of the circle's curlicue
Hells burning and sings, and burns the throat of supernatural sordid affairs of the singed dresses, lips quiver and nape the murmurs, closer to your party girl
Listening to the parallelogram lights of nadirs on the cream drop, on the trap, ******* stint rest are we
Sleeping with the nocturne-blonde, wheelchair on the cannibal dynamo of the change looking in product elitism, sold out before they knew they were buying war
You're a bit inside, further into my ferried heart on the wheels of fire of the crossroads of the good,
The hoods out, the special affair sounds like a girl, the number of the pocket
Of the ashcans on Wednesday, so smart about your Hakagaw bows, open doors to my cellar in speakeasies and tensions
On the phone calls, in the terse rhyme sin, the sails determination of confessing our love, in the strong live in the heart of years that do not have any limitation and have no learned lessons,
See tomorrow's is the night that's alive, it's the midsummer's daydream and the midnight cauterized midriff
How do we sell it, and the trench warfare in the solidarity of the streams of dresses in steaming stowaway, maybe we good we have mister magic selling the war in a handful of stardust
Shadow rises in that pass as years go by
Shadow is a pejorative term for copies of running on hurt looks in open books of minds, we have our own wars in piled plasticine in methanol, hydrogen prologue of the helium
Time throws us into the year in the complete word that completes me, and I'm a bit nicer
I'm so lost, I'm a bit nicer
Deep sarcasm in the classroom
The winners have become bad, and no one cares about the losers
What does it mean? I'm not telling you my stories

On the eve of twilight, all was silent
As my soul paced, so did its expressive face
I promised to be simply present
As the cloudy skies brought forth pink and hues of pensive

With the river of heights untouched, hollower than life
Yet larger than it, for it is lonesome in its stride
Some words often follow a solitary remark
I pray you appreciate the docile look the heavens bring

As its beauty shines, and its pallor looks brighter
Emanating with a summer stream, as well as a young branch
If my life were empty, and love were made of cloudy chance
I would look into twilight’s haze as I fulfill my life
That is when I am reminded of our time
And how brief it is to be truly alive like a sky lit up in twilight

You ever feel bad about
writing me
A little late

Remember that
i am
Still thinking of your old messages

Love's is a senseless verse
La dee da
Goes the dirge

When we look into ourselves
Deeply
We realize everyone is trying hard
How can we look into ourselves
Without realizing
We are at war with our souls
How can we ask for love
When we give suspicion
In return for friendship
Look into yourself deeply
If you hear silence
You may weren't born with a soulless voice
Sleep on this, or wake up and apologize for being sentimental
About your life

I met her at a bus station
I thought could impress her with quotations
A book of poems and that was all
A poem doesn't have to say much
I express that I was bewildered
Our love wasn't hindered
It was like summer, open and free
Like the skies right before evening
I pressed her to be my best friend
She said to friendship their is no end
She knows there is no beginning without it
What's the difference
If we are madly in love

Girls are beautiful
Men are boys
Flowers are meant for innocence
Love is like a rising sun
Meant me and you
Imagine if the setting sun
Was much more romantic
When we were washed by the pain
Of a thousand setting suns and awashed seas

Some friends
Some folks
Cuddle up to my kisses
Desires for thighs just okay
Heights of colder man make my home
Warmer men make my bed
Lower men can ease my mind
Cashing on my interests and coursing through my puddles of love

In the look-out of lamps
The peak of evidence in the ridiculous cheer
Cry, baby jeering
Indignant on the field of dreams
Suckling in his cropped photos clearly in kuv
Oasis and the mirage of love and teller maps
We crowd the love with the affection of all sorts of purchases
Venus bought Cupid a bow when he was conceived in her salacious dreams and voluptuous *******
Stammering with ransacked inns of heartbreak, hotels bustling
The battlecry sounded like the Camus in this outsider to life looking for exile
We can inadvertently enjoy this pyromania and **** our dreary fears with a sensitive soul
In the form of Gods, and belief in the love of residents of the heart so fickle
We are on the moon if we could just have our rightful place on the blue moon, away from the crass clowns
Whatever decides, decides whenever it wishes, without wondering
I just don't like dying to the idea of conformism or lobotomized
I understand the idea of being crushed, but, not disappointment
That's a something I cannot reconcile

If I had prayed for every time I wanted to become a wolf. I'd have become you and you'd become me. A wolves cry howling "bon appetit."
The more I look, the bitterer I become.
The less I look, the wiser I become of things seemingly out of my hands.

The more you write the better young et
With the raging heart mumbling
In his sleep
Can't you tell
There is no praise for her mother
Can it be

I hear death hugging me tight
And my hunger died
The light of foolishness foolishly stays
Giving me the warmth I don't like
The starved affection has got me untied
Unbound by the need of clarity
In an existential crisis, I recommend to myself
The perfect remedy called sanity
To some insanity is a mode of critical reasoning
The feeling of the simplistic dreams is all you need
The dharma you follow is the only deed that tells you to fall flat
On your back, so sometimes the sky may look daunting
And the stars don't look back for a thousand miles
In your representation, there is your only passion
The pursuit of elation
The pursuit of happiness
The clarity of that stride is what brings me satisfaction
That's why I feel so lonely in the talk of metaphors
Unable to come to terms with this is called realism
Maybe, I'm happier being settled in the transcendental
The crucial attributes of this exist in the betterment of humanity
And independence of dogma, wherein a world we may be called biased
The very idea that saves us comes from freedom of thought

His college years were coming to a close
Soon, he became aware of Mrs. Christian
The wife of the headmaster
A German woman with hips luxuriously hanging
Her stomach was slightly loose
But, so were her *******
Yet, she carried them with confidence

He noticed her soon enough
One day, he broke his arm on the field
Mrs. Christian brought to him his meals
Nursed him as she sat on his leg
He could feel his ******* grow
As her *** warmed on the sheets
Yet, such warmth was platonic, still

Sometime later, he stood in the corridor
She asked him to polish his shoes
As he looked down
He caught a glimpse of her cleavage
A pink robe inside, revealing itself
He realized that he had more than a fetish
It was a real fixation
He had become hooked

"You called me, Mrs. Christian."
"Ah. Yes."
"I am aware that the headmaster wished something from me."
"Yes, William."
"Er. You need something."
"Only to inform you, your education is complete."
They turned up the music and waltzed.

Her pink robe, after being removed, was skimpier than he had first thought
Yet, he carefully considered if the tuition included this
He didn't mind her teaching hands too much
As he tried very hard to arouse her purple lips with his hands
Growing impatient, she took her tumescence
And pushed into it, expertly
It was as if the rain had poured for years, unseen by closed eyes

"William. You make me feel."
"Like a woman?"
"No. Just aroused as hell."
"I guess this is ***."
"No. This is art."
"Art is feeling?"
"Touch my heart. You have."

Lawyer knocks
On His wife's doors

The Glocks coming ringing
in the crowd

Some singers talk
Assiduous alliteration

I find writing
On something alive
And dreamy
A dying art
That decomposes into madness

I see her standing on the beach
There's a place for the two of us
There's no reach
It will get better
With the two of us
If the syllables stick there's some strength in your character
Strong as an independent woman I've ever known
It can be cooler than
Any rap you're reading out to a woman
THere's a no place better than home
Why don't you take it back to my place?
We'll drink beer and sit in the shade
Drink a Tequila and may not even think of going into the physics
Uff we'll never meet.

In the middle of the journey
I was stuck in the creek of the ladder
With a shadow of a doubt
A window ledge
A falling man on the mount
In danger
I had the specs and a major
The abstemiousness drew a couple of circles in rear
The car draws flames in the 70s
The precious simple daddy shake by the fire
Muscle cars blew across burnt charcoal
Close to burned edges of the ride
Society seems to have to joke a lot
Tell your ma and pa that we stand strong
There is a place in this life that holds me to the ground
Annoying as ever now stay in the now as you will need it every time
Every day
Touching upon the real stuff the real high
I was into the masterpiece
Of shaking hands with the devil all along

Shall I compose a tragedy
On the canisters of meat and food lined on empty stores
Next to the aisles as sold-out grocers
Tomorrow is no place for the stares of vegetables

The depths of the ocean are blank not blue
As the deck of the ship under the sun without a tune
Captain's call reaches a few onboard
Tomorrow surrounds us like dew on a leaf flown

Shall I compose a tragedy
Pile lines after lines, as they do in slaughter houses
Deciding whether to leave a smell of freedom
For the prisoners inside

Tomorrow is not for the man on the pavement
For it may be the coldest winter next
Tomorrow is not for the grieving widow
If she were to find love behind the locked door

I don't have an iota of malice
Not a single bad bone in my body
And warmth flows through these veins
Yet a guilty conscience
Has convinced me that
I'm not good enough