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~~
This afternoon wears the dark Shirt
After demonstration of the moon,
End of the waiting of pied crested cuckoo,
I did not end

A little bits of interval,
Blinking the distant Stars
My friend could count,
very romantic,
In me cast the shadow

Her beloved lives outdoors,
All the apartments of the mind has rented
Taken from the first floor up to twelve
I did not

I saw the race of cars on the street,
Standing at corner of the roof
When hunger the fingernails,
Subconsciously
Playing an illusion of gravity

This time the drone of insects,
Occasionally shout of bull frog
In fresh water of the rainy season,
Breeding multiply
Nature of the Nature

Cut off the yarn, the kite ran out of the sky
In the Kans forest,
The shadows of white clouds,
very Absurdly,
I could not even catch you  

In the body of mind,
Emptiness came home
Lost days song come up from the deep sea
In the silence the sound of sighs

Sleepless night as the rhythm of the strange poem
While the star drops in front of a traveler
Even though when my time has gone
Still could not understand the unknown poetry
~~
@Musfiq us shaleheen
There is a place where the sidewalk ends
And before the street begins,
And there the grass grows soft and white,
And there the sun burns crimson bright,
And there the moon-bird rests from his flight
To cool in the peppermint wind.

Let us leave this place where the smoke blows black
And the dark street winds and bends.
Past the pits where the asphalt flowers grow
We shall walk with a walk that is measured and slow,
And watch where the chalk-white arrows go
To the place where the sidewalk ends.

Yes we'll walk with a walk that is measured and slow,
And we'll go where the chalk-white arrows go,
For the children, they mark, and the children, they know
The place where the sidewalk ends.
can be a sword
but it can also
be a
fang
bullies on the
internet
where the one
can be a
gang
the multi-fac'd jester
from the box he
sprang
on his words he
rises up
on his words he'll

HANG.



SoulSurvivor
(C) 11/30/2015
Give 'em enough rope...

---
~
he who is a little ahead of his time
whose treasures of the words random
romanticism is in the blood, marrow,
his mood is as the autumn clouds

he who has lost his path within path
drowning with dreams, sunk you within dreams  
again holds thousands of lost dreams
fly the colorful kites in the blue sky

he who hide within himself
**** in his naked poetry
In forms humorous,harmonic  
as a portrait of the Vincent's starry night

he is a pilgrim who has lost himself within spirituality  
holds everything with the love  
who is for everybody so everybody is for him
But in fact there is nothing in all his

he who is simple straight as the waterfall
when in complex grew hard stone
who broke rules for building rules,
knows himself within the other life

whose words never be end
again he moves on and on
who laughs in the moonlight
again swept in pain without thinking any gain

who looks the life
as a grain of sand
and see the sign of love
in the footprint of a fossil

he who is a poet -
~
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