Many have come before us
many to come after we leave
don’t wake us from the hush
traveler here silently grieve.

Time washed we came on the shore
to our place ‘neath the moss laden stone
when our dreams soared no more
down here we lay cold alone.

Hold here traveler your breath
forget for once all the strife
hear the peace of the world beneath
death in the midst of life.

Happy hips of roses
Dance here in the wind,
as I watch them grow
In my cold garden
'Neath the back yard swing.

My old window
looks sadly out my house,
The frame is blue
And the wall is stone
With gutters that creak and faint.

My whole world
Is a land of waterfalls,
Though it's sad
And though she's sad
What a beautiful pastel of paints.

Golden salamanders
Run underneath my porch,
And yonder far
Where thunder heads roam
I swear I see a dove.

The sultan kept
A mad desert storm
Sealed away in his bottle
Upon a silken belt.

I bought it from him
For a soul and two pence
My right eye,
a good crossbow,
And a loyal eastern gent.

I fell upon a
merciless jungle
That was filled with
Bodiless masses,

And uncorked the storm
Upon the bird like faces
Then they were swept away.

Why, do you ask?
So I could rule a sandy kingdom.
How does it look?
Like an ocean filled with glass.

A bottle I keep around my waist...
Within it a sandy storm...

Clouds give us respite from the harsh sun
Glaring rays obfuscated by the black screen
Rains quelling the rising heat of the Earth
Soil is replenished to sow a new harvest

On a family vacation
To the mountains of Tennessee,
We were on a hike,
And my Mother said to me,
She had grasped a tiny twig,
To break her from her fall.
She laughed at the irony.
"That isn't much help at all."
Right now, I feel like she did.
This scenario is foretold.
If I fall, I'm falling hard -
And there's no sturdy branch to hold.

Good friends don't
Let friends drink and drive
The last thing he said to me
Before he drove right out of life

That very moment
I watched him drive away
Haunts me in my memories
Haunts me to this day

With the attitude
Of it can't happen to me
The opened hand of death
Welcomed my friend in tragically

Now I don't know if I should
Be the one to laugh or cry
Because my good friend had offered me
A ride home that night...

A day will certainly come
As sure as we breathe
When our creator will ask of us
What we did to aid the oppressed

On that day
As surely as who created you
Created me too
It will not be about religion but humanity

When carefully planned and organised jets
Launched rockets
To bomb populated refugee camps
Schools and apartment blocks

At a defenceless opposition
Without an air force or navy
Heavy weapons or artillery
Command or armour

That's not war
It's ******
It's cold blooded massacre
As a woman shot in the stomach
Gives birth to a cold blue baby
And a world across oceans changes channels tuning in to the next world cup champion

It was never about taking sides
Israel vs Palestine
There is a truth
To which we must remove the blindfold of ignorance

Searching for a voice of right
Amongst the cries of pain hatred and anger
The sign in a city
Where there is too much to see

Finding peace amongst people who are not ours
Because I see hypocrisy of nations
Who stand for human rights
But only when the human shares a matching ideology

I see hypocrisy amongst media
Where a million wounds and shades of blood
Are inked into black and white letters
Today I read 'An Israelian was killed whilst a dozen Palestinians died'

They turned humans into numbers
Quantitative data
They couldn't possibly de-sensitize it any further
I mean look at the verbs in which they phrased that  

I see hypocrisy amongst Muslims
Who stand equal and united
Yet they too turn backs when the interest is not beneficial
And the pitiful nation falls divided

Whether it is a prayer
A strike, a boycott or vigil
A protest or petition
Maybe even a donation

There's a thousand ways to help
But very few who do
So what did you do?
Was it out of sight out of mind for you?

Misguided fire of passion
Burns one’s own abode
Even the tears of remorse
Can’t douse the raging inferno

Kept in front of me is a rough handmade paper
Its furrows are similar to my unsettled life
The thick graphite pencil I hold up to sketch
My anecdotes that has made an impact on me
As soon I start sketching, the graphite smudges
Leaving dark and ugly patches on the paper
And an indelible mark between my fingers
Depicting the dark shadow that has followed me
Everything I hope for, is daubed by overcast setting
When I take up the erasers to wipe off the mishaps
The friction creates a colossal mess on the dreams
I realize that I have distorted the sketch I started
But the deep lines of graphite stare at me sullenly
Such indelible sketches hover in my mind
Not even the best of erasers can wipe them off
I tried in vain, only to be left with abrasions
I have given up on drawing up any dreams
No longer, the handmade paper allures me to sketch
For I have used up all the graphite, drawing, failures
So many failures already etched in my memory
Left with nothing but the memories of defeat
Like the dark smudges of graphite, hovering my mind