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 Oct 2014 Matloob Bokhari
r
breeeathe

r ~ 10/18/14
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When I looked
in your eyes
I could see
*infinity
Hush now, the calm breeze whispered,
And ripples twirled on the stagnant sea.
The surviving boat stands in the mist.
So does a traveler on it.
Almost a shadow,
A mere existence of wanderlust,
There is only one God,
He repeats under his breath,
Like a mantra,
As it slowly polishes his rusted heart.

The sun lost its horizon
And dives in the heart of-
A lover.
Leaving darkness with hope.

The traveler knows,
His soul was made for prayer.
That the eternal bliss waits
With light and freedom.

O’ beloved, you are not just a dust in this universe.
For we all may be made out of soil,
The lord still takes you as his friend.

Death-is an inevitable sweet escape.
That was told.
An open secret,
Known to all
Yet, he is alone.
Rest has ran away from their graves,
Even if the sky formed celestial waves,
They won’t be saved.



My signs lie in your silence,
When you utter a word.
I flow like the stream,
Of your solid dreams.
Know me, my lover,
For I am near.
Nearer than your jugular veins
If only you felt me.



All the fallen stars in this ocean
Now knows what is within him.
The boat that keeps him afloat
Understands its companion
Lives with insanity
For no one talks in his sleep
So passionately.


Everything is alive,
Living and breathing
With your heartbeat
A constant hint-
Trying to capture your senses,
For your love is its only desire.
 Oct 2014 Matloob Bokhari
Taylor
I want to hold your hand rather desperately.
Beyond this tenebrous curtain, fear associates
itself substantially, refusing to take separation.
I am inclusive to the elements. Tangible forces
caress without inhibition.
Without respect it inspects. I respond with aversion
but cannot cure a prevention.
Swallowed alive am I! Ineffective inside these bowels,
without the slightest hint of protection.
I stretch my arms, trying to fight an unseen burden.
I rely wholly on touch, 'tis a war far from won.
Motion is stalled as heavy weight pushes down into
this abyss. Poundage is transferred upon other parts
of my decrepit fragility. I am being suffocated by the
enormity of my aggressor. Will is weak but I find strength,
adrenalin is guided from fear and I use it.
Surging forward I lift my assassin. I can feel the blackness
wrapping around my being, invading my face. They bind
around me like tentacles of a octopus squeezing tighter and
tighter. I summon the strength to heave the creature upwards.
The weight now lifted but still these bindings grip my all.
I grapple until I feel a sudden ease and I am free.
Illumination now presents this assailant before my own eyes.
The silkiness of such sheer cotton sheets piled up in the middle
of my bed, now in this light look as harmless as they are in reality.
I hear the groaning and look over to see the rising cloud, resonating from the floor beside my crib.

I flinch with fear as my spouse scowls over at me.
Posted Aug 25th 2014 © Copyright Christopher K Bayliss 2014.
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pigeons
are an urban
blight

oh!

but
when
they

FLY!



(c) soulsurvivor
we should not
curse the pigeon

it had an important
use at one time
and is a
beautiful bird

I used to call
them rats with wings
but i have had a chance
to observe them up close

they are very loving
mates and
parents and are
successful animals

any species that is
successful should be
observed
Every scar we carry tells a tale.

A tale of who we are,
it is ours and ours alone,
individual as we are.

I wear all of my scars with pride,
and my tale that is uniquely mine.

I hold my head up high,
for this is my scar,
my tale,
no one else's,
I own it.
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