Among desolation,
Hidden, buried deep,
The vaults of gods,
Lost secrets do keep.

Though all creation
Succumbed to the blight,
The precursors foresaw,
And sealed their might.

In dark chasms below,
Do great engines lie in wait.
For the predestined time
To fulfill their grand fate.

Though those now above,
Twisted and broken,
Sing of wicked things,
That should neer be spoken,

They will not inherit
What remains of this world.
Their end will come,
When the stars lie unfurled.

I must feel
Must'nt we
Who have felt how numb
We can be
At such insistence of a world
Gone wrong

I know saint's
And sinners
Who act as though they're winner's
When they lose
At anytime and not know why
If it's real

Then here is forever
We never learned
We never tried
And the saddest part
The brightest
Have never seen why

Aren't we commited
To a path
When we see we can never get back
Such a sight
That can **** eternal soul

Such a life
Such a life.......

Miracles happen thru heart-to-heart communication
Lover and beloved are taken in real grasp and spell
Intoxicated eyes play their dominant determination
It is tinkling heart where lover and beloved to dwell

My young ,energetic,alluring, innocent sweetheart
Still you can not understand mockery and its deceits
You have to be smart to understand from the start
We are being staunch lovers and love makes aesthetes

Charming beauty takes us to eternal edge of prosperity
Love does not mind even if it has to burn with the fire
But it is must that lover and beloved move with sincerity
If one can not go through these oddities he must retire

Col Muhammad Khalid Khan
Copyright 2016 Golden Glow

ferociously needy a time or two amongst
the tall solemn weeping willow trees like guards
awaiting like mums
to stifle any running
vines from climbing
the ancient brick spires
and soiling their breeches knees
with god awful grass stains
and the toes of their
polished cordovans  so decadently
like wanton orphans
here we are brought up
in castles with desires
not met by brick or mortar
or examples,
tell me pa ,
with your grappling of the maid Helen,
in the parlor, were
not of a mind as I, all I ask ,
Sir, is to run wild one day of the month,
not forever,
like you, and mum,
always stern
like a Catholic Nun
on guard to ensure
no one ever smiles
or has fun,
is that our ruling obligatory
commitment?
Fun is catch and hide and seek and roses growing a little
wild outside their containments,
once in the while?
Or shall I stifle my creativity
my wants, and just grab ***
the help
every chance I get?

i should have known better.
isn’t it always a boy with sparkling eyes
and a mischievous grin?
one whose hands on my waist
feel like Christmas
and his fingers slice holes
into my bare chest.
i should have been prepared.
i’ve been here before.
i should have anticipated the collapse
and taken my fragile heart
to put in its cage
upon the windowsill.
i should have listened
to the voice in my ear,
telling me beautiful words,
and recognized the tone
of deception.
maybe i did.
was it worth it once again,
to be lying on the bathroom mat
praying for it to end?