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 Mar 2015 sajjad ali
axr
i
 Mar 2015 sajjad ali
axr
i
i am not a mystery
i am an open book with secrets to be deciphered.
i am your warm words,
your forbidden curse.
i am the fingerprints on railings,
the feeling you get when you're failing.
i am that fall when you get high,
i am that song which made you cry.
i am the dead cells on your skin,
the greed when you're rich.
i am that rhetorical statement,
that lonely guitar by the pavement.
i am that scream when the car crashes.
i am the fire which brings you to ashes.
i am that unknown melody in your head.
i am that coffin in which you were placed.
i am that time bomb ticking away,
the succubus telling you to live another day.
My narcissism at its best
Please, if you would, take notice
that I take notice of the notes,
thus one may wish to notice
my use of the note field,
for, I've noticed,
many seem to use it differently
or not at all,
but I can't help noticing
that I have a kind of counter-dialogue with my notes
almost as if it provides some context that's worth noting.

Lemme know if you notice.
I'd be interested to take note.
I know some of you sure do.
Don't worry: I've noticed.

;)
..raw..

What's up with this "..raw.." stuff?
Why are you getting all deep about this?
Where is this going?
What the hell?
Are you joking?
Are you ever not joking?
HELLO!?
ARE YOU LISTENING TO ME?!

HELLO?! HEEELLOOOOO?!
Do you even care?

Yes, actually, I do, and
thank you for noticing!
The defense rests.
The infinite light
Find its way
Through my window
To the soul
Wakes me up
From a slumber
With a dream
Floating among
The rays of light
Light as feather
I feel free
Light finds its way
To the inner
Corridors of my life
The glow
Throws light
On my consciousness
Making me aware
Of the realm
Where true hearts reside
The joie de vivre
Is so attractive
I cannot stay away
But join them
 Mar 2015 sajjad ali
Queen
we may not be the most obvious expressionists,
for we keep our special pen and papers,
folders,
diaries hidden from the world,
and once we enter our secret world,
that's when we fully open up to our paper,
and the  pen becomes a reflection of our hearts,
the thoughts impregnating our minds,
falls like waterfalls onto our paper,
our pen becomes a existing object in our lives,
we create him as our best friend,
lover,
as he writes down all our desires,
secrets,
feelings we hide in our hearts, to afraid to tell anyone what goes on in our head.
never stop writing dear poets and poetesses, your writings draw the most beautiful pictures ever to exist in this world.
^~~~~^~~~^


poets are in love
with things of pathos fair
the lure that draws the moth
to the flame's despair

the insect caught in amber
the mateless bird that sings
the colors of the sun that's died
the fairie with no wings

the gnarled, lifeless tree
grass o'r grave's slight swell
the stream that's choked with bracken
the sound of empty shells

the sweetness of the voice
that sings the doom'd femme
the consumptive Mimi
in Puchini's La Boheme

butterflies on velvet
stricken, gently spread
affixed with a pin
tho lovely, they are dead

the vampire is so sensual
tho their victims end is dreer
the eye that is the brightest blue

always sheds the tear


SoulSurvivor
(C) 2014
^~~~^~~~^
 Mar 2015 sajjad ali
Tyler Durden
Every hallway is left unscathed,
By every violent, thing you say
You can curse me everyday,
But, the pictures remain the same.
 Mar 2015 sajjad ali
madison karp
all of the stars combined
don't measure up to the
light
that I see in your
*eyes
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