You held me in your loving arms as i wept
So sure i had found my way home after my long journey in through frozen land.

Now i'm turning to ash because i stubbornly refused to see that the warmth i thought i needed had left me on fire.
Then you threw me in a coffin,
Nailed it shut with your grin and covered it with the dirt of your promises.

Do you remember way back when?

I still remember the hotel room where I sat.
Fleeing the hand that gripped you.
I gave you words,
they were inadequate. Couldn't admit that I
abandoned you.
My fear grew, ever stronger. My delusion cast about me, a blanket to my conscious mind.

Remember further back when we were all smiles, blind to reality?
I sat with eyes closed for awhile. As if days don't turn to months to years.
Except, I forgot it ends like this.
Blue veins, cracked upon a pale surface.

That's me.

Seeing me.

And you.

For what you are.

For the first time.

She woke up with wings on her heels
Which brought to mind, that's all she wrote
With no need for shoes to escape the blues
Although she did grab a coat

She floated an inch off to the door
Leaving no prints on the linoleum floor
Opening it wide to the great outside
At that very moment she was seen no more

Let my unseen wild stream take you there
I have become nothing but air, truly heavenly air

A new way has come to me a language only the old tongues could speak

Is imaginery wisdom not the mother of all ennemies?
Would they believe once the wild wisdom win for them relief?

Few will miss for leaving so suddenly
But i must tell you everything for i have become invisible, impossible to see
Voicelessly i hope you'll understand
I shall tell you briefly how it all began

Alone in the mountains above the trees a child's whisper said to me:
For many years i see you here wandering slowly above the trees
Your humility made you worthy of my peaks
You shall become a wild stream
Then i just dissappeared

Words Of Harfouchism

If you want flowery poetry
Hit pause, backspace delete.
I write on a lot of subjects;
Only a few could be called sweet.
I’m not into swirling windstorms
Or describing billowy clouds.
Not into extolling autumn leaves
Or conifers standing proud.

I try to select the human things
Whether good or even bad.
Sometimes I wrestle with
Life twists that make us sad.
I try to speak for everyman
And that includes the women.
I try to reflect life circumstances
And the results the travel with them.

So, crooning polysyllabically
Is seldom my favorite tune,
Nor is waxing limerickally
About June, and spoon and moon.
Instead I’ll probably take to task
Those who live in sappy hope
A prince shows up in their life
A proper romantic dope.

I write the rhymes about crooks
That steal from your children
And the supposed leaders
That ****** and abuse women.
I write about parents who
Ignore what their children need
And instead find their joy
On selfishness and greed.

After so many millennia
We really need to stop
Waiting for someone else to come
And be the moral traffic cop.
It is us who need to change
And teach our children accordingly
Because the way we are fixing things
Humanity is progressing dismally.

So keep your butterfly couplets
And views of rain on hedges.
We are falling apart as humans
And it’s visible on the edges.
It will only take a few crazies
With power enough to wield
And this planet, and us of course,
Will no longer have a shield.