Darkness, lighten up.

Insomnia, dream.

Sky, cry tears of joy.

But they tell me no.

I’ve chosen to walk
A lonely road
Where ravens squawk
As time erodes
Where the devil talks
Through whispered codes

I walk along
A dark wooded path
Where the nights are long
And I face Satan's wraith
Everything feels wrong
There's no turning back

The more I wander
The more I stray
More time to squander
The days away
So much time to ponder
The end of days

Darkness is falling
The Earth is dying
The Devil's calling
The news is lying
It's all so appalling
There's no denying

This path I roam
Is filled with sorrows
Nowhere feels home
Too many tomorrows
Too Many poems
Spreading my woes

The Devil follows
He tempts my soul
But my soul is hollow
So still I stroll
This pain I swallow
And it takes its toll

I can not save
This doomed planet
We've dug our grave
Satan's enchantment
Has made us slaves
Bloodshed is rampant

And when we crumble
I'll shed no tears
The devil mumbles
In our ears
So we stumble
Year after year
As the end draws near

The prison bus
passes this way

every now and then,
surfacing without

warning—a leviathan
of metal, grease, and glass

its dark windows secured
by squares of rusted wire

its diesel engine heart
spewing exhaust that

turns morning rain
the color of seawater.

The prison bus
does not stop
for stop signs;

red lights are nothing
but violent memories
strung in an overcast sky.

When the bus strikes
something in its path

the prisoners bounce
slightly in their seats,

lifted into
impartial air

liberated
momentarily

by the familiar
co-conspirators
of blood and laughter.

In his dreams,
the guard who
drives the prison bus
circumnavigates the globe,
plowing through clouds
of insects that shimmer
like fuel above the road.

========================
her smile burst like bubble gum
her cheeks smell as queen of the night
her face glow like the morning sun
o my sweet child, you entwined me like Jasmine

~~~Jawahar Gupta~~~

It is not enough
to have known her.
(She was near the ocean).
It is not enough to hold
in the mind each pattern
on each petal
(a Summer flower).
To love is to believe
that Summer persists!
But this is not the order
of living-
She is momentary,
like all things.

Blind men don't even know
the blessing that they own.
I cannot describe the agony
that enters my brain
through my wandering eyes.
Tormented by the permutations
that assail me,
from a million different angles.
Perfect darkness
is the only thing that soothes me.
But, even in the depths of night
I cannot blind the eyes
in the chasm of my mind.
The neverending eight millimeter reel
of things I'll never touch
skin I'll never feel.
Why must I have eyes?
***** out the stars,
so maybe I can finally hide
from everything I cannot have.