~~
Sometimes Loudly
Sometimes Silently
Yellow leaves have fallen,
Becoming dry
Pale
Passing through as the grained Sound on the Street

Slowly dark flees across the evenings
What an Illusion!
What Shadows!
Has Shuffled
The Past
Present
Future

Your form that creates metaphors
And what a wonderful feel
Through out its gravity
Night dancing,
When aroma of Night-Queen
Moving in the air,
Plays with the moonlit
As if Reminds
The First love Poem

Has burned within the form
Standing to fascinate
Away, a dense bunch
Of vine Forest
Bored Air moving
Listening the murmur
Of dried leaves
In the passing wind of banner
As if Someone Calling with
My old name

Empty
Restless Heart
Today is the tune that somewhere else
Like a flow
Of a distant river melody,
Surging waves of the attack
In the Strange night of Spring

Continuous grey leaves falling
Falling on the Floor
Whispering the words on the street goes through
What an Illusion!
What Shadows!
~~
@ Musfiq us shaleheen

Sing in the greyness, the darkness.
Twine it round your fingers
round the staff lines
you carved into your legs.
Black white and red
what have we anymore?
Dame Misfortune Madam
of whorish time,
who waits for no man.
Which came first?
See who lit the cigarette last,
see, he puts his trousers on
one at a time.
Eternity in a nutshell,
the universe in an eggshell,
and we brewed beer in them
to get rid of the changeling thoughts,
though mother heated the shovel
iron hot, it glowed
black white and red.
Flicker, dance-- does it live?
Do we live?
Even when we can see the end?
Blindfolded fortune, justice,
says no,
twisting ribbons round her fingers
black, white and red.

This is a poem......
you don't have to read.
You're busy at home
watching Cable TV.
On Twitter or Facebook,
reading all the minuta
that comes down the feed.
My words may be little,
my words may be small.
But, each and every one
of them, I own them all.
Some will take time,
and others will pass by.
These words will be mine,
till the day that I die.....JMF 2/19/15

Her smile stands like a porcelain lock,
lips closed like the red doors
to the Forbidden city.
Those blood-washed memories
will never dry in closed rooms.
Rust grows under her fingernails
smelling of iron and salt,
destroying the magic.
Her mixed drinks, peroxide and pain killers,
sleeping pills
stand on the nightstand,
after her one night stands,
leave the door standing open.
The cat knocked the glass over,
stained the carpet.
She locks the door again,
blotting the stain with her hair,
she chokes on the dust.
Swallows down the myrrh
to make her breath sweet,
wash the blood from her teeth.
The plastic wrap party dress
clings to the bruises,
and she paints it black with old mascara stains
and phone bills,
taping the pieces of herself together
with promises of old lovers.
The door opens
The lips lock,
porcelain smile.

"YOU SHALL NOT PASS"
lord of the rings fanatics, typical
Somehow controlling thousands of people turned us all into Gandalf
I guarded the food, you two the door
Most people don't tell you how healthy it is to assert yourself,
They crave passivity, fear aggression
Assertion doesn't mean aggression
Patriarchal society
How good it feels to stand tall
Huge like a mountain, wise like a wizard
If we are Gandalf you're the ring
I hope you get thrown into the pits of Mordor