Are you a
Narcissistic
Psychotic?
Few know
Themselves
So Well!

Tell me things
of profound significance
and you have a pair of
unfulfilled ears.

Tell me not
of your latest phase,
nor of what you had
for breakfast and what you
didn't.

Tell me that you
and I
are born out of
the same explosive star.

Tell me that your
rented house and mine
will burn and
collapse
under the heat
of the same sun.

Tell me not of
the latest track
doing its rounds and
selling tee-shirts and raising
eyebrows.

Tell me not of
the latest scandal
engineered by ghosts
on their pet nymph.

Tell me that
you'll die tomorrow
and that my words
will remain in you
and rot in velvet flannel
as they lay you to sleep
under the ageing grass
sprinkled with holy water
decorated with lazy inscriptions.

Tell me not
your latest trick, tell
me not your mother's
tryst with a man as
old as you.

Tell me that you'll
stay young and burn
with me when the
crowds come, calling me on
bringing me to account
for all that I failed to talk of.

Tell me not of the many things that trouble you.

The man who tries to prove a point
Is unsure of how sharp it is.
A man who wars with blunt arms,
Is confident in his own strength.

The man who bears armor brave,
Falls heavy into his own grave.
The man who comes naked
Is sure he will return unscathed.

But, not every warrior is the same;
And no war can be fought
In the shadow of divine aim.

And I want to tell her that I understand
what it feels like to be fake, insignificant,
and a shadow on the sidewalk of society.

And I want to tell her that I also borrow
the experiences of others --
that I, too, learn feelings
by stopping and staring at personal wreckage,
like a tourist of emotions,
like an inevitable wish of a human being.

Turn my eyes inward
Scatter the nerves that flirt with shades pale and bright

My skin crimson and sour
Like an untimely foetus
Let it roll into a curl facedown

Reduce that deadly tongue
To the serpent it fears being
Race down to my swollen belly

When the trinity is gone
Darkness will prevail
And we'll see once again.

/
Many days
I do not read any newspaper
Even do not see television
At all
Many days have gone
After You
I do not read any poetry

How to feel that since this morning!
Repeatedly hear identifying tunes on the air

Your arrival in the sky,
The air reverberates
Looks like another day
In the Paradise,
In another song,
Which brings the soul
The Aroma

Everyone is coming out
From all sides
Young Old
Babies Boys
Women Men
Everyone
Everyone is clapping
Singing the song of the same tune
This song is not the song of Rain
Not even a lamentation

The Southern breeze whispering your words
Slowly Said,
The Little Tailor Bird
No, No,
Not such a summer afternoon
Not even a hurricane warning

Each of the human eye
Follow the Eastern Sky  
Tireless Eye
Watching the sun,
The Red Sun,
You went to bring dreams for us
From the Sun

Hundreds of thousands of people
In his next question
Hand with Flower
Shoulder to Shoulder
Today will be the day of strangers,
The poet will come
We are standing in the flowers
Fist full of dreams to take

Float in the sky with white clouds
My dreams are calling again
Today is not such an Autumn
But Still feel like an Autumn
Indeed,  
The poet will come,
A poem in the New

Where each word will be spoken dream
Love to be evacuated
Poems that will repay
The debt to my Ancestor
Take revenge on thee
For their injustice,
Torture
Poems that would bring the stars
For our next generation
A poem that would bring the red rose for my darling,
Would bring such a smile to my mother's face
As Moon that smile
And that is simply killed false dreams
Will we ever Released
Sing Freedom Songs

The Poet,
My beloved Poet
You will come,
Will surely come
And will recite your immortal poem
/

@ Musfiq us shaleheen