There are times,
Where I want to sing,
Your name and mine,
Tangled in the same tune,
Dancing with the syllables,
All the notes and nothings,
Around and around,
Into the evening hours,
There are times,
Where I have cried,
Familiar faces on morning news,
Funerals for the friends lost,
Childhood ends far too early,
So many nights forgotten,
Sunday morning service,
Prayers for the wrongs I committed,
In the hours prior,
There are times*,
Where I reflected on the memories,
August took a piece of me,
Everything was full of life,
We never even wondered,
About what would become of us,
In the sunrise that followed.

Tedious
Half-Baked
Egotistical
Erreneous

Assin­ine
Ridiculius
Troll
Inarticulate
SUBPAR
Tast­eless
Execrable

Laughable
Obnoxious
Grotesque
­Hopeless
Amateurish
Incompetent
Narcissistic

C­ounterfeit
Abominable
Reprehensible
Vainglorious
O­dious

9/30/2014
Manhattan, new york city, new york

you got to wonder
September saturday nights
walking down church street.

the man on his smoke break
gives me a smile on the corner of 9:30
at night and i return it even though it
isn't wise because
it seems kind,
a smile i’d like to get to know better.

in the taxi
i think uninspired thoughts,
running along the sidewalk’s lining
sidewalks i’ll probably never walk on
and this is when i realize
Manhattan is a small island.

back on the train
i think that monday mornings wouldn’t
be so bad if I lived in Manhattan
crosby street or wall,
but then i think of all the
manhattan schoolkids
that seem like they know everything
and i think: do I really want to?

back in Princeton
i think that i am bored
and i realize far too much has changed
from april,
the raw essence still the same
seeping at the core of the stem, however

and i accidentally step on an ivy league
cufflink. I think to myself
i probably wouldn’t think so much
if i was in manhattan.

///
I am a very devoted guy
who never tell a lie
a conditional character,
very optimistic,
almost an illiterate,
but self literate and barefooted-
I have nothing
and none for me
except my pen and paper,
with you and my Hello Poetry- 
///
@Musfiq us shaleheen

how can such a tiny thing
leave such a huge hole in my heart

i miss you, my love

I dropped my daughters favorite cup...
James Dean was laying at my door
his face was shattered on the floor
I was trying to glue the handle back on the cup
before it slipped from my hands
I didn't seem to understand
I've been pushed aside, and over a fence

a light bulb moment happened next
and some things began to make some sense

I have been sentenced
for my so called sins
In "once upon" I had a shot
like the legend in Camelot
not perfect - no, not at all you see
but it was when I felt they may have loved me.
When I used to matter
before they dropped me
and, I shattered
I have fallen into a wall of silence
The cup is just a symbol
a sign, or - symptom
of all the blaming, and shaming
that can happen
in a twisted triangulation
a kind of strangulation --
there's always one broken cup in a family
they're the chosen one
to choke out all the darkness that's taken place
a sacrifice for all the wrongs that your ancestors have done.

it's all been passed down from face to face
generation after generation
my soul finding its way to this great nation
I was chosen long ago
by someone I do not know

I am a broken cup
I am glueing myself together...
it doesn't matter what they say
even though I've been castaway
I've decided that I'm okay
I know inside
that I am good
and, what matters most--
is that I know I'm kind.