~~
I am not writing any poetry
Not a huff,
Not even a romantic mood,
I talked to a distress

Unto thee of say my friend:

The suffering of pain is more than a pain
Words of distress
No longer I can't say either

The story of that night
That is longer than a long night
That night, my love had died before the dawn

How do I tell thee

The suffering of love is unforgettable
Than the love you never achieved  
Middle of the night to about chest pain

When I could not bear it no longer
Then at late night I call a friend to awake
No longer I can't say either

My friend
O' my friend!
My dearest friend!

How do I tell thee
My soul grew dry that is more than a wither petals
No longer I can't say either

When the sudden stopped of time
I stood, Saw the closed distant door
No longer I can't say either

To be alone in everybody
Within a moment a known seems to be unknown
No longer I can't say either

The last thing to understand who she is constant
The story of the lost bright Star
No longer I can't say either

The door is closed
Maybe someone has locked
Alone, The sleepless nights of choking

One's that hard
Many pale faces in the crowd of strangers
Love is lost within too many hopes

How do I tell thee
No longer I can't say either
~~
@ Musfiq us shaleheen

don't feel sorry for me.
I am a competent,
satisfied human being.

be sorry for the others
who
fidget
complain

who
constantly
rearrange their
lives
like
furniture.

juggling mates
and
attitudes

their
confusion is
constant

and it will
touch
whoever they
deal with.

beware of them:
one of their
key words is
"love."

and beware those who
only take
instructions from their
God

for they have
failed completely to live their own
lives.

don't feel sorry for me
because I am alone

for even
at the most terrible
moments
humor
is my
companion.

I am a dog walking
backwards

I am a broken
banjo

I am a telephone wire
strung up in
Toledo, Ohio

I am a man
eating a meal
this night
in the month of
September.

put your sympathy
aside.
they say
water held up
Christ:
to come
through
you better be
nearly as
lucky.

the house next door makes me
sad.
both man and wife rise early and
go to work.
they arrive home in early evening.
they have a young boy and a girl.
by 9 p.m. all the lights in the house
are out.
the next morning both man and
wife rise early again and go to
work.
they return in early evening.
By 9 p.m. all the lights are
out.

the house next door makes me
sad.
the people are nice people, I
like them.

but I feel them drowning.
and I can't save them.

they are surviving.
they are not
homeless.

but the price is
terrible.

sometimes during the day
I will look at the house
and the house will look at
me
and the house will
weep, yes, it does, I
feel it.

I met a genius on the train
today
about 6 years old,
he sat beside me
and as the train
ran down along the coast
we came to the ocean
and then he looked at me
and said,
it's not pretty.

it was the first time I'd
realized
that.

without any sleep
what is real becomes the dream
you cannot wake from