When the journey's over,
when the race is run,
when the light is dying,
and all your days are done.

At the end of the highway,
when the final line is crossed,
at the last ray of twilight,
when the night says you have lost,

there's a brand new beginning,
there's a brilliant new dawn!
Your spirit will awaken!
Your soul will carry on!

Hello again.
        Been a while.
    I   know.

Apologies.

Are in order.

Out of order.
Restroom.
Where I can't flush my heart.
Throne of broken dreams.
I hear your

Elegies.

On the wind.
See our

Reveries.
On the backs of my eyes.
The underside of my mind...
begins to float

      I saw you today.
            Inside my two rooms.
                   Projection slides on the dark white
                         walls.
    You're bigger now.    A lot bigger than last
                                                               time

King of the jungle wild and free.
Too
big for this book,
too
fast for me
to
keep up.
If I could
speak up,
find the words,
I'd bring 'em right back and paste em right here for
all
to
see.

I
  see
        you.
  Closer.
             Every time I
   close my eyes.
You're faster now. Stronger now than you ever were.
          And if I could I'd go to see you there.
But this is still my world.
And I can't leave a good thing gone bad until I've tried every way there is to heal
it.


Tiger fangs
In my veins
     can't tear me from this throne.
Empower me
From your great forest seat
     and I will carry on.
And I'll sit                      And I'll ****
                 On this seat                        On this throne.
And I'll sing                   And I'll pray
                     This is broken                  Find your way.
And I'll breathe              And I'll be
                      In your eyes                    In your arms.
And I'll live                     And I'll die
                    Just for you                       Just for me.
I give up                          You forgive
                  All my love                         All your life.
And we run                     And we dive
                   To the night                         To our dream.


                 Good to see you.
                                    Happy to know...
                                    
                                                    Our work continues
                

                                                    which
                                  no matter             plane we land on.
                                                        if
                                  no matter             we land on our feet.

My English Professor says that I am not that good of a writer. I should have known by all the garbage I lugged around with me. Espousing it here and there. Trying to lighten the load. It's better to accept it I suppose. Not everything can be good. It'***** and miss. If I throw enough **** at the wall some of it is bound to stick. He said, "You can only be as good as the stuff you read." Maybe I should read more good ****. Any suggestions? I like to read Bukowski. He says Bukowski is trash. I really don't care what he thinks. I'll be happy with a C. And hopefully, a degree one day. He reads The New York Times and rambles on about politics. I read trash and I don't talk very much. I'm too busy thinking about liquor and women. Usually one at a time or one in particular. I work, go to school and come home to play mediocre superdad or distant husband. I wonder if I'll get that degree. I wonder if I even really care anymore. And if not, then why? Maybe there is some fateful reason for all this. That's what people like to say, "Everything happens for a reason." It sure feels good to think like that. Seems that way.

Another night of liquor
A bottle gone to my despair
of drowning out the thoughts with music
That **** the silent air
She knows somethings wrong
She knows im weak in spirit
She hears it in the songs
She reads it in the lyric
Another day of duty done
The bills are paid in vain
My brother says just carry on
So i carry on again
I write another drunken prose
With words so simple i compose
A verse, a curse, a wishful spell
To break the monotony of this hell
Nothing special
Just a mess ive made
Another song
For another day

The sun will come up tomorrow,
the flowers will grow in the spring,
May love abound in your life and
peace to your soul may it bring.

I took a walk in La Goulette yesterday
From the “Bridge-of-the-Casino” to the port.
The things I saw on my sun-bathing way
So simple they were, here is a report:
II
Sea snakes under a blue bridge did frolic
As hardware stores displayed paint in their windows.
The water snakes performed some dance symbolic
And the paint braved the dark rust from a distance.
III
And I, hastening to my liquid address,
Shot a side look at a man in a dress,
And hoped the blue water in the White Sea*
Would wash the wound bleeding in my memory.

© LazharBouazzi, 16/11/16 (revised Nov. 17)