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 Oct 2013 Eliza
Shah Ahmed Farouq
A man walk towards the bright light
Lighting a cigarette as he moved on
Thinking about his messed up life
Mistakes he made since he was born.

The street was quiet and empty
The night was filled with stars
His hands were very filthy
His body filled with deep scars

He was a total mess outside
Inside his heart kept on going
To him life is not a joy ride
Where people go on singing

The problems were always there
Playing tricks on people everyday
It is a burden we all must bear
Did anybody said that life was fair
 Oct 2013 Eliza
Shah Ahmed Farouq
It was on a cold rainy night
The storm blew with its might
The empty house I stood in
Not a single soul was seen

I heard the sound of footsteps
But all I saw was a black cat
I heard something whispered
But only few words I collected

The feeling inside me was fear
The feeling  someone was near
The feeling that is cold in heart
The feeling which leaves a mark

I tried to move but I simply can't
I was stuck in this room here
Trying to warm my frozen hand
Heart filled with constant fear
 Oct 2013 Eliza
Shah Ahmed Farouq
there was a boy
who was always blame
sometimes been used like a toy
but everything remains the same
because it is him who everyone likes to blame

he cries at night
thinking were did he go wrong
but he's heart keep telling him to fight
he's soul connot take it much longer
but if you see him he is in a sad sight

he went everywhere things were the same
things that were wrong
trying to be better is his aim
but he cant because no matter what
he is the boy who was always blame
The poet lies peaceful in death
Tranquil like a river sublime
This frame in rhyme he cannot etch
It arrived as fate of lifetime.

Oblivious of eyes that weep
He looks peaceful in sleep
Not a twitch from the finally locked eyes
To break open from serenity and rise!

He lies in bliss on flower bed
Soaked in the silence in his head
Of thin hair on skin no more warm
In emptied brain at end of term.

He till last (w)rite couldn’t tell
If his heart and head did coincide
The source of the ever ringing bell
Came from which mysterious side!

One more thing haunted his mind
Tormented till his delirious end
No answer to the dilemma he did find
Nothing for his soul to defend!

His creations did they hurt more than they healed
How many faces he lit up with a line
His verses flowing free willed
Did they bring clouds than sunshine?
People are music ♫
The differences in people can be thought of like various aspects of music.
Some people are a rhythm, a chord, a key, repeating over an over again, varying little (if at all) from their original forms.

Yet others are more complex.
Some can be a melody, sixteen bars, or perhaps longer.
A melody that flows above the gentle chords of their fellow humans.
A melody that changes and adapts as their tempo speeds and lingers, the key to their song changes its color, or perhaps change just simply because the melody is meant to change, be it by choice or by chance, or the hand of fate that wrote her beauty into life.

Yet still.... There can be others.
A higher level beyond just a rhythm, or just a melody that changes when it's needed.
Perhaps the highest level of human existence comes from the human containing all of these components.... And creating a song.

A musical piece that cannot be defined or understood by merely what it is composed of. More than a key, a tempo, a melody.... A complete person is greater than the sum of these musical attributes.
A person who is a song, who holds meaning in their song--whose song sings of their own experience.... Merely for others to listen (if they provide the time to do so).

Pure music is never the same when played twice, because the music is contingent upon the situation with which a person currently finds the self.
Their emotion
Their experiences
Their friends
Other music, and "music" that has inspired them and their song....

 Oct 2013 Eliza
Chuck
Rain (10 w)
 Oct 2013 Eliza
Chuck
Rain on Sunday is like disgusting flies on birthday cake.
 Oct 2013 Eliza
NV
she & the mirror
 Oct 2013 Eliza
NV
And you can't seem to recognise that person in the mirror.

Who is she?
Where is she?
How is she?

                                              But she knows.
                                      And what she knows
                                                  saddens her.

In that mirror.

She is her insecurities.
She is her regrets,
She is her failures.

In that mirror.

She is here.
She is there.
She is nowhere to be found.

In that mirror.

She is lost.
She is broken.
She is damaged.

Wait...

Maybe I know that person.
Maybe that person,

                                                        ­        Is
                                                      ­         Me.
 Oct 2013 Eliza
Chuck
The End Begins
 Oct 2013 Eliza
Chuck
Sunday is the saddest day of the week
It's the end of a relaxing and enjoyable weekend
And the beginning of the next unwanted
Stressful forever
 Oct 2013 Eliza
Lee W
You drive yourself to the edge of insanity trying to rid the world of injustice
And the world keeps turning
People keep living
They overlook the crazyness of their every day existence

They learn to accept the world
They become complacent
They die

The restless soul labeled Mental illness
what they call an illness of the mind
Absolutely collected in his thoughts

Anything you put out is a cry for help
Every plea ignored
You learn to live with the absentmindedness

The cold stare of another person
Trying to open their heart to you
They try to collect the carefully scattered pieces
They undo your organization
You're left hold the bag
When they leave
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