Being a novice
in poetry
he knows how to color
an old tree,
a sky in the winter,
an ocean,
or even a dancing
emotion.

But pleading
with the wind
to come
and sing
the sparkling
thunder
that tears the ,
weeping dome
asunder,
is a different tale –
altogether.

(c) LazharBouazzi, May 7, 2016

black or white, the ideology is often grey!
lost or abandoned, chosen or forgotten,
runner or drag-racer,
the empty bucket,
the data forms,
the Pyreness of their love;
the cry of an unbroken heart;
the little laughter of an innocent one,
perception abound, intelligence incorruptible
gentility, a mistaken identity.
the roaming panda, the separation that is youth.
it's both a blessing and a curse to feel everything so deeply.
time makes more converts than reason;
and the children suffer the wrathful inklings.

i have wasted so much paper for you
i have told strangers things i haven't thought about telling you
i have written poetry like
its a cheap substitute for therapy
and i've held the pencil so hard the lead breaks
when my hands shake too much to keep going
i have gone to all of these great lengths
i have written epics about the way you left me
i have written sonnets about how you came back
ive never shown you any of this in fear you will see how my handwriting slowly deteriorates into shaky lines and abstract complaints
in fear that you will make the connection that i havent spent one day free of you since we met
i feel like i have so much to say
and maybe im an expert on beating around the bush
or maybe you're just too self absorbed to hear me
i have tried every way to encrypt my words and say them without letting their meaning sink into your skin
ive got enough for a novel but i havent made my point
i love you
stop hurting me

Two different women names his mouth calls,
One in a prayer and another one in curse.
The ****** one makes him suffer, though yet he longs for her in passion spell.
His body and the soul dwell in a bitter strife between the Heaven and the Hell.

All these words i write are my camera
Always livin in the moment
And if i stop to take a picture
I might not feel a feel of feeling
For a second id stop breathing
Pull the trigger the camera sees
All the things that i missed
Because i saw it behind a lense
But when its done and over
The moments lost and theres nothing to do
I can relive those feelings
Feel it while im breathing
And ill breathe out a song
About the moment i was livin
All these words are my camera
Do you feel my feelings

Time has passed by,
never forgetting to say "Hi!"
Always passing by,
but there's nothing new to try.

Now time has stopped.
My heart then dropped.

Nowhere I could see,
I couldn't even feel me.

They said I've reached the deadline.
They're taking this life of mine.
I said it was fine.

*Because time never gave me a good time.

I'm walking but I don't know where to,
It's a winding road that I've been on for what seems like years.
Lay down to rest my head, give my body to nature.
Stuck in the soil, sprouting slowly, but the rain comes and the lightning strikes.
I'm dead, but what's the difference?
I didn't stand a chance anyway.
Reborn; a cloud in the sky, I'm forming a tornado, touching ground, rapidly spinning and destroying everything in my path,
I'll gather everything around me and tear it up, drop it and dissipate.
I just want to be pure

Where?
Where does misery end
and
happiness begin?
I'm now certain
the line does not reside
at the bottom of a bottle.
I've finished many
to find nothing but an empty vessel.
I've chain smoked my way
through a thousand packs
to find myself still wanting.
I've loved.
I've hated.
And still I have to ask
where?
Where is the line one crosses
into happiness?
Into peace.