Waking up in the morning of our lives
Seeing the Sun
Hearing the birds
Smelling the scent of sweet flowers
Smiling at this beautiful day
Enjoying the warmth
Basking in the fields of happiness
Seeing a vision
Like a reality coming to life
Grabbing it
Raging through complexities
Forgetting about subtleties within simplicity
Looking forward to achieving
Goals are set
Climbing the never easy ladder
Or the stairwell of
sometimes unethical competitions
Reaching the top where
ego and pride awaits
Submitting to it
Devouring your sense of being
Soaring high
beyond the colors of the rainbows
When dusk comes
preoccupation wins
Sitting down contemplating
pondering thoughts…
Is everything worth my life?
Where is the happiness
that has brought the smile?
And at the end of the day
thinking…
Where are the days
when I used to bask under the sun
In the fields of
happiness?


Mek
Oct07

...We are
throwing stones at the bush
hoping it would
burn
Hoping
for a miracle in the flesh
And we cry in despair and
we get angry
and we get
tired
but restless
So we drop on our knees
to worship the dirt
feeding on madness
...Mirrors to shatter
so as bridges to burn
so we can blame
and dream and
escape
and act like
fools...

...Beneath every smile
lies a dormant tear in
this world of chaos
Needing a light
deep within the
decadence…

Beneath
every silence that
empties the day
cries a melange of nostalgic sky
Heard within dreams of
desperate solace
Overshadowed by insanity
shrouded by
the dark of
blindness…

...The blood of
the daughters and the
sons of those mothers and
fathers who have been
butchered
in the name of a belief
that transcends reasons
are screaming beyond
agony
But
it seems the heavens are
crowded with
the devil's
******
and the cries were ignored while
they danced and
feasted upon flesh
upon
flesh
They, the mothers and the fathers
languished under the skies
wondering
what has become of
God…

...Judge me
not
by the hooded face of
hypocrisy beneath your
elaborated cross
Sinner is the soul and we
are no different
from the malice of logic
Blessed are those who see
a poor man in heaven
for they do not feel alone
in this crowded
city of gold
Stone me to death
only if
talking to the Devil is
a sin
Faith is a belief
founded not
on stagnant
waters...

There lies a small town situated in an idea beyond man's point of view. He seeks the courage to make that step towards a recognition that it's time to let go. He remembers his first bicycle ride...

...Reaching the stars
from a transcendent void is
a journey that defies
her concept of
everyday life
Flowers may bloom
but the scent...

...It's either his reasoning or the cold that makes the whiskey dull. Building fire out of ice is hypocrisy. But then again, many are obliged to please despair. He hears the calling of the irony as if reality didn't exist...

...A melody
barely played into
the fading distance
another memory
forgotten
and it becomes
worse...

...The calling seems to be getting more vague with each passing moment. Attachments are heavier than the burden of a decision to make a choice. Strands of smoke rise in the air and he thinks of her one last time...

...Seasons will
pass
and suns may shine
Remembering
will always be
a part
of her every breath...

Six years of haunted light, he still couldn't figure out the reason why he was born upside down. Maybe he was too young to understand. It wasn't his choice to be here but... who is to blame?

...The side streets
tell another story
far worse
than the promises
of those who
govern...

...The urban jungle seemed too crowded with greed. Perhaps the right to live is a privilege not all can afford. Fate it seems is cruel... or maybe it's just man. He heard another growl from his stomach...

...Dwellers
of the underground
are guilty of the crime
fed by hunger
But not all is a
criminal...

...Dreams never tread the world of sleepless nights. He had been waiting for one but the cold ground never gave way for comfort. He stared at the stars with drowning eyes. If only...

...Dignity
and the very concept of it
has been redefined
to fit those who dine
Perhaps
the world is
indeed
selfish...

...And we are
forever
attached to the boat we
row
Through waves
and storms and
still nights
and stars
that we struggle to reach
until we miss the desert
that gave the thirst of a
blue moon's horizon
Thinking
wondering
until the why demands
for reasons and we
drown in despair trying to
defy the calm waters
that brought us
the reflection of the truth
No... we're not alone
but we chose
to be on our
own...

…Walls came crashing down
ruins of a fortress, louder than
thunder
Wicked gods
awakening screams
of distorted sleep
Nothing but a dream
anger driven
hope
Desperate
to be free of
despair
Into the twilight
with nothing but a blinded sight
Harmonious anguish of
howling moonlight and
a dead
song
sings
a shattering shrill
Nights of cold whispers
they’re never fading
Nostalgic
memories of the sun
If things were only
built everything upon beauty
then the skies would paint
a warm golden sun…

Bleeding from misleading arrows
struck by the cherub bribed by you
Rusted knives
cut deep
scarred and ditched
after every weakness exposed
Poisoned with streams of angelic lies
poured on my life’s glass that once flowed with
the light of the midnight sun
A love you have shown…
Defined ever after like there’s no end
It felt real
Emotions were filled
yet doubts were the only certainties
And as the mirror reflected the vagueness
it all came to light…
The world has fallen apart
A storm brewed by my believing of
your fabricated feathered wings
I have fallen for your voices of dramas
Lured me to open…
Sacrificed innocent lambs
like a fool’s offerings to false gods
You embraced me as no one ever did
but it was of cloaked deceit that
stabbed the core of me
I have been blinded by your radiance
never seeing the shadow beneath your
echoing beauty
It was a love trying to end my breath
A dagger that slits, a sliver in my sanity
Bled with cries of despair that
no one ever heard
And after everything that has come to pass
I walk in this nowhere
Never knowing…

Mek
Oct07

He spent his last moments under the rain. Those raindrops reminded him of the songs of a thousand voices in his head. He had hoped things like these would stop...

...She sensed
wickedness
in her dream
It wasn't time yet
but she struggled for
light...

...Flood came like washed out memories. He remembered when the flowers withered when night came. He stood motionless anticipating the drown. Ironically he smiled...

...She had always
believed in miracles
Though
she never knew
the taste of it
her hopes were strong...

...Time had stopped. Everything came back... everything. He knew that regrets would never taste sweet but never thought they could make him cry. And so he cried without the rain...

...Down on her knees
the wound was
deep
She wanted to cry but
they would see her
It rained
and she smiled...

...She was naked and cold
like a *****
deprived of mercy
Seeking home with
three wishes
and a rope
She used to believe in morning love
and jasmine
and lilies
and blood-soaked lies
She prayed for wings
under the electric lights
and burn the broken pages
in her backbone
not to remember but
to feel what it felt like
She
slit her throat
and tried to smile
tasting the last warmth
of the midnight
sun...

I still remember the
days of golden suns
Reflections upon leaves
Days were still warm
Fields were filled with laughter and
innocent dreams
rolling down the meadows
Nothing but green and
daisies were an orchestra
A melody by angels
in chorus with the breeze
Whistling tunes of heavenly smiles
radiant hues paints the sky
…a cool morning dew
I was there…
Enjoying the breeze and
the array of yellows and butterflies
and violets and bees
Under the tree
by the olden tire
hanging on a wrinkled branch
Mighty arms of the elder oak
who has witnessed
years of sunrises and sunsets
Old maybe the tree was
but the scent were of flowers
and there was never a fading
Contented
happiness it seemed
I never left the solitude
It was a solace of an embrace…

It must be the waning that somehow made the sky dull that evening. He could have ignored it if not for the stars that resembled the sands that he took to quench his thirst. He feels the nostalgia...

...She hears a
silent prayer
at the back
of a vocal thought
The whispers
are sometimes
the loudest...

...Everything was alright till something came that bore a spot in his heart. Everything happens for a reason and the reasons are not always clear. Perhaps that's what pursuits are for...

...It was never about
the times wasted
in regrets
She knows
that it's about emerging
If only
she was heard...

...He wanted to believe that someday the wind will change its course. Maybe he'll learn to look at the trees through the window and realize that morning dew isn't made of tears. It doesn't always rain...

...She dances
at the break of light
where time
isn't yesterday
and the lingering droplets
always bring her
smiles...

...Too many fires have gone
wasted
over streams
of senseless thoughts
Imaginations
suppressed
in the name of social sanity
Surrealism it seems
not an endless thought
anymore
So I struggle to
write something
that does not
conform the norms
not to be
"different"
but to prove that the sun
is not inside a
box...

…When senses get dark
and all’s left
visions of hell
a road of threatening grin
lit by a waning moonlight of
horizons running red
with a melancholic touch
of discordant amber...
Grays
Laughter echoes in the ear
not of joy
Ripping every fire of her
A vivid poisoning dream buried
six feet
underneath
Where to go from here?
Stuck in time and space
Logic devoured by chaos and
every reasoning cries
Longing to see the whispers of
a silent flame
in this realm of
darkened paths...