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Feb 13 · 229
Sentient Yearning
Rakib Feb 13
Surrendering in her alluring ways
I sing the tuneful serenades
Seemingly melting our souls fused
In her desire I got absorbed, amused

I lost myself in a bewitched gaze
Attending to her ******* on my bed
Like the flowers that bloom in spring
Setting our bodies afire in a fling

In pursuit to fill my perpetual void
Can't help but ponder what's flawed
Spontaneous in deceit to solidity
Yearning to earn sentient solidarity
Jan 4 · 176
Eight Fold Distrait
Rakib Jan 4
Swaying from light to tight
My mind frames friendships might
Swept down then by a swift tide
Stability to chaos arise

The uncanny stress of being devoid
Falling in love, Freudian sing
Hallowed in the morn
****** in the night
Disproportion of both choroid

My heart clutched in rhythm of taste
Wrinkling softly, eight fold distrait
Show me love, watch it break
Such is the tale of my trouble's trait
Jan 4 · 415
Rakib Jan 4
Keeping in condition of the mind

What's real and what's kind?

Thoughts jumbled, feelings wide

I need to break free from this abide
Jan 2 · 163
Rakib Jan 2
The shallow laughter of devil's trance
Creeping calls of a malicious dance
There's other voices speaking in my crown
In self-slaughter sounds do I drown

Demons dwelling upon my slumber
My days are but numbered
I struggle to keep the lamp kindled
In time my efforts are to be swindled
Dec 2018 · 324
Portuguese like Diamond
Rakib Dec 2018
She's burning the cigarettes
Smoking one too many tabs
Clasping her lips lightly
As if taking care of the flab

She has her spirit visibly loud
Walking down on the street
Flaunting her grey jacket and orange nikes
Crafting a steady smile sweet

There's a strangeness in her love
Passion that blooms through contagious
My mind in awe of her art
Worshiping the physique tenacious

Portuguese like Diamond
Her composition rhetorical
Mysterious in nature, living as she wills
To know her is to own a coracle
Dec 2018 · 1.0k
Fragility of Masculinity
Rakib Dec 2018
What good is a masculinity so fragile,
That it harbors misery and shatters souls?

What good is an alliance so toxic,
That it tweaks tears as opposed to laughter?

So speak up and break free,
Live life merry as long as your body does plea.
Dec 2018 · 203
Undressing the soul
Rakib Dec 2018
And darling I don't want those clothes off

I'd rather watch you undress your soul

Life can push you to loathe yourself

But love can surely mend you whole
Nov 2018 · 87
Rakib Nov 2018
She's a damsel of cryptic stripe
Hiding fairly her blooming riddle
Kooky tad of lustrous bauble
Babble tales foaming my soul
Rubbles of my fondness yearning stubble

She's a mistress of deviant nature
Caching away from communal creatures
Gleaming in her own delight
Staging her individual symphonies
Crafting a zappy tale of glee

As I hover on warmth appeal
Hoping to learn her tenderness
Flickering in her radiant chant
Veer to her spirit's slant
Waiting to scribble a chapter unified
Nov 2018 · 77
Slumber Song
Rakib Nov 2018
Lying deep in a frivolous slumber
I was a man in aching ember
Tearing apart limb to limb
Screeching loud "lord save me from my sins"

Ghouls creeping up my toes
Charmed to the peal of my woes
Agonies of my boyish past
Leeching on contemporary lusts

Fantasies conceived of jovial treats
Now concealed in desolate greed
Schemes flow of eternal dose
Better a bitter slumber than a heart broke
Nov 2018 · 61
A stream re-owned
Rakib Nov 2018
I was drowned in the forest,
So deep and dull.
Where filtered no light that was blessed from the sun
And yet I was on the run.
Flowers there don’t blossom
Nor did my pale heart drum.
For no different was I than Mephistopheles
And was a beast that bore no feelings.

Memory had deceived me of my spring,
A time that time had timed away from my rhyme.
A little a dull dream I no often had
Of light and flies and lies and cries.
Cries, Oh! Cries! Ah! Cries!
Had I not cried would the forest have died?
Reason would tell it all but no sharp mind had I.

Walk had moved me onto the rocks,
And then to the river of smoke had I gone.
The vinous smell of which
Lumbered me into a deep slumber.

In sleep I saw Dante the man
At whose side stood Beatrice for whom he was mad.
I who knew nothing of groom and bride,
Glared my pearls onto the Anglophile that then did land.
Pierced he his mighty hands into the air;
Who under his command turned dust to there.
At him I screamed to know it all,
And answered he to ‘Speak low if you speak love’.
Pointed he his silhouette to the deity and uttered:
‘She’s beautiful, and therefore to be wooed,
She’s a woman, and therefore to be won’.

What sorcery had I witnessed!
For I heard my heart to bump and drum!
Sweet was the stream that filled my canals,
Where the fiery fluid of life now flows.
Fresh became the air that I drew there,
And a soothe deep blessed was in me.

Baptised was I then as human
Invited me then merry men to their den.
Oh! The smile I bore on my lips
For would witness I the kind to which I belonged.
Eagerness sprung out o’ my spirit
For soon with my tribe I will be with.
Nov 2018 · 68
Of The Moxie Fluid
Rakib Nov 2018
You pour the waters
Of magical delight
Drowning each drops of eerie tears
Tears of rolled melancholy desired

Your heart a chamber of venom
Each beat boiling its toil
As the days of hardship pass
Each day does a drop add
And its pain drains
Into your arctic veins

But then the water you gush
Down your guts does it flush
Reaching in through porous ways
In through the murderous veins
To your heart it rolls
The venoms doth droll
Into sweet streams toll

Yet the liquid slurps
Into your intellect it burps
Fills your thoughtly hollows
While your vision obscures
To phantom like raze
And you squander your curb
As equally does the herb

You wander in dare
Till the heavens appear
Where the cherubs stuffed rare

And you reach the accord
Of luscious delight
While your enclosing lights

But then you turn
Back to shallow do your run
In mirror of opiated burn
And while you encumber
Your torso guns to slumber
Awaiting ticks of number
Nov 2018 · 65
The Unhappy Melodies
Rakib Nov 2018
The tolls of grilled men groan
With screeching moan of roasted car delight
Powder o’ bullets hither and thither
Red stream of wine flowing within
The air too dense in which to linger
Not a bee or bird or man hereafter

Hands up in melodies to the creator
Chaos to dust to turn soon
But alas the chaos can’t stop
For its nature
And we the mere players of the betrayal

The arbitrary notes of tears and timbers
Too high without real values which here shall foster
Weather in smoke and dust shall bear
And the bustles and hustles of machine shall not rot
But to ears drum and the trumpets torn

Here I stand in the melodies of creation
Of doom and dawn that awaits, not bloom
See the wind sway and hands shake
And thumps of notes too high awake

It bothers me, nay that is not a thing to say
For slaughter and ****** to me shall then sway
What is fixed is to be there
A change and soon the trigger shall whisper
‘I the Death that you fear shall tear the flesh away right here’
But stop I say for death I do not fear
Death better if a thousand others spared

This doom soon Zarathustra spoke
But men hath then joked
He a fool and others the cool
But see now after a thousand era cooked
Of that he predicts is what is true

Nay but no more to wait
If something to done is to be done right away
And guns to flowers turn
Bullets to ashes shall burn
When the Übermensch shall be awake
And things to peace shall return at bay
Time shall tell the ever-truth soon away
And the Unhappy Melodies shall be astray
Nov 2018 · 67
The Fake Prophet
Rakib Nov 2018
From the heavenly churches they say came he
Gabriel’s disciple it is said him to be
Walks the man from town to town
And his followers come pouring down

Then goes they to his mansion
Whose blue silk embellished walls are beatific no need to mention
Sits he in his majestic throne
Across which angels are said to drone

Thwacked he his stick on to the wooden floor
And looks all at awe at his splendour
With a majestic tone says he,
“Come in by the name of God anyone who needs help done to thee”
Hypnotized his followers are all to this lured
Slowly forward they leaped, shared they their stories
Says then he, “Tis no big deal, thou will be fine, have not worries”

At night, I the harbinger of truth, walked stealthily to the man’s mansion
Alas! What I saw, lost was he in scandalous sensations
Lay him in his bed amidst filles de joies
Waiting for them to make him feel joy
There I saw Lucifer in the air
Smiling at his followers who lay in the bed bare

Anger rushed through my veins,
Knowing that the pains of the man’s followers went in vain
Brought out I the dagger from my pocket
And rushed to him with the pace of a rocket
With all strength forced I my dagger to his chest
And at last I sent him to eternal “rest”
Nov 2018 · 69
Lamp of redemption
Rakib Nov 2018
A traveler named I then arrived,
To where men had always been.
But the end of the day had then been different from all before;
For not a soul of the many that came had then not been present.
For the trail to enlightenment that would then have been begun.
But wait and tell me
Tell me why it doesn’t come
For the only some who was calm
Time flowed down its river an inch or so
From the time that supposed to bring on
That grand majestic vehicle that rains fame
Oh it is called the train, oh train, train, train
And now the train doth not come to this land
Land famed the waste land as Eliot before done
And then in this carnival of rust I saw, I saw
I saw a barn, barn owl as it is called then
Noise that it had made of the screech
A sign that the train was on reach
Oh! Then the train finally came
Rust, blood and sweat made
The train came and stopped slow and low and gates of it were opened
Not a soul inside had travelled back here and I was the only one to go
To the promised land of pigeons as called and so I jumped to it inside
An hour or so had then went by in the darkened place there by my side and it moved, moved, moved
But then again the barn sound heard did I and shh and chhh and bump and beep and a loud THUMP
It stopped, it all stopped and I on the floor and stream of my life from my hand flowed; all stopped
And so I left the damaged train on foot, blood all over my boot, running not to make my body food
I ran, I ran, I ran and ran, time had so followed but slowed until all I could see had been turned to fog
I could see no more and I cried but then in front came a man with lamp; his face hid with mystery so
Asked who he was and said he in triumph ‘Shepherd of fire’ and so was he gone; lamp on me front
I carried the lamp and the fog was gone, path none else but one and I was again on foot and run

— The End —