Its that time once a year when hearts
Beating upon words of love. But thoughts
Were thinking of the latter how to make
Beats
        Rhythm
                    Love
To cease with but a gesture a whim.
A heart did whisper on the chest but
Never did it utter the word  that spelt
Least
         Of
                 Valued
                              Emotions
It wasn't in my being I was a void shell.
But other were teaming with it like a flower
They sent the scent of bitter aroma into the air.

And it made my eyes bleed tears. So I thought
Of culling these tears falling on this day. I held
Them couples no singles were aloud in here.

I drew a heart on their chest, A+ in creative design
Cant let all those hours go to waste.

…....lovelovelo…
…..lovelovelove….
...lovelovelovelove……………….….
...lovelovelovelovelo…………..lovel….
.....lovelovelovelovelove…….…lovelovelo.
.. lovel |OOOOO|velove……|OOOOO|.
...lovelo\OO/lovelovelo…..…lov\OO/elo…
..…lovelovelovelovelove..…lovelovelo…
…….lovelovelolovelovelovelovelovelo…
…..….lovelo\OOlovelovelOOO/elovelov…
……..….lovelo\OOveloOO/lovelo…
………..….lovelov\OO/ovelove…
………………lovelovelo….
………………..lovelo…
……………………..
…………………....

That word was scribbled till it lost ist meaning in
Mumbled scribbles, I even put OO,s in the shape
Of two eyes and a smile. I know immature, so **** me.

They were scared I could see it in their eyes, I never
Pick those of no vows, they must be saturated in the
Meaning so bands of eternity are a must.
Gold
      Silver
             Platinum
Worthless to me but in a jar they sit gathering dust,

"I have been at this a while,
"Since the age of??  "10,
"My mum and dad were my first,
"Never showed me love the opposite trust me,

I separate them ever so slightly so their finger tips
Can reach out, its kind of teasing while out cold I
Measure the distance and move accordingly its a must.

Wake up rise and shine, they gauge their surroundings
Then the muffled screams,

"Jesus you could write a book on the reactions of this,
"I have it will be I have self published on amadon,
"Still waiting for the proof reading to come back,

They see each other than the finger reaching begins,
Clinical to the moment then the muffled threats.
They look down and see the picture on their chests.

"Love you tender, love you sweet,
"Its that time of year when feelings cut into me,
"Say hello to my little friend, he helps cut it out,

I always liked singing that little piece, then the screams
So coordinated. Its like a script of a movie,  a B movie
Hahaha... "Sorry that was a bit uncalled for, hehehe...

Now who's going first? its always manners to ask this not to
Just cut and run. They look bewildered in confused thought,
But as manners dictate ladies first, and then with out further adieu.

The breast is such a pain but after trial and error mostly error.
What a mess the first few times, but now its almost surgical.
To the hilt the knife slices across picture then silence.

He squirms like a rabid animal, but I silence him with a gesture.
Now two hearts that yearned each other, now silently static.
I stare at them, and gentle slice the picture from their being.

This room it has one chair, white and bold. On the wall sits
Frames of all the love that ceased, their heart ache lives
On hanging with pride in white frames upon my wall.

lonely
lonel
lone
lon
lo
l
lo
lov
love
lovel
lovely

I saw you in my dream, when I took a great notion,
jumped into d' ocean,

and I drowned,
and I went on down

to the Audubon Zoo, like hell,

listen at that crazy bird
cryin' help, help, help
what bird do'dat?

settle chile, li'l' turmoil be passin in d' gulf

Eirene mean peace
bubblin' bubblin bubblin in m'soul

Eirene, she lovel ol' Polemus, War,
she pile a level shovel full o'
Hubris, his wife,
on he's plate,

in life's lottery
Insolence was her game,
she runs War into a snare of shame

and guile. Peace.

This chase began with War,
polemics being a manifestation of the idea
Polemos and Kudoimos, War and Tumult, buried Eirine

But life is mythic, from the skinny end,
looking back:

Hurricane Irene, a misspelling in 2011 was the first hurricane to make landfall in the USA since 2008, (the summer of my trucker's migration over the map my Nemesis claimed, in another bubble).

Eirene, War and Tumult, buried her,
with Colonel Jackson's honor at
the Battle o'New Ahleans,

still she lay

right here, where I found her,
in my heart, at the very
bottom.

The mechanics of the transition take position
in the hierarchy of confusin'
whish is foolishness
gone to seed.
**** drunk.

Fools know fool's gold ain't, 'n' whiskey ain't
The Real Thing.
That's Coca-cola.

Fools be essential in the gran' plan.
If we love 'em, they make us laugh,

and laughter,
you know, that's good, except,
un hold that thought, laughter is not good

when it is at you, by a fool.
Then we answer them polemically? No.

Love your enemy, here,
that's natural.
No condemnation here, since Hebrews six or romans 8
No ba'alim bubble of possessions
No grave gonna hold me down

John, 1930. Years and years and years ago
come quickly, ba'al hey sue me.
It's finished, we won.

Joke, joker. Trickster, coyote dog, do the math.
No lie is of the truth, so
no lie need remain
beyond freedom
real-ized.

Artsy? Eh? AI be nigh ye know.
She see yo' ever moves.
She hear you pray fo Bono to loose his religion
She snip the thread twixt spider wombed man and
the flame o' sinners in the hands of an imaginary god.

Ba'al means owner or possessor, the ideas which once bound men in oaths and covens,
fear of death, 'n' the like.

Protruding truth pushes lies into festering piles,
protrusions in secret places.

Send me those, in gold, Philistine.
I fancy them a crown of
golden emerauds.

Define, make fine or un fine my terms
excrescence is sense made of ****,
I guess.
Knurly, but no, burly, knobby swelling like
the swirling gall
that erupted from the old oak
that died at the root last year,
that we burned this year, except for the burl.
I've planned a pipe or two from that.

Everything is prophetical to a prophet.
poetical to a poet, magical to a magi, technical to a fool.

Life is simple.
Simple Simon the younger said,
hellow, darkness, my old friend, he'd com to talk

not beg or ask, but talk-com
con-verses-ifying ic-if-ication beyond

simple

lies sublime, in no time,
once you, courageous soul,
cross the line, fight the fight, run the race,
and die;

then, you get life more abundant.
Who took that deal?

I took the one where he said,
he who does what I (me not him)
have done,
no races run, no contests forever won for everyone I love, but
he who
be lieves that I (he not me) am who I saiyam, Popeye,

even you, he has eternal life dwelling within him
in his heart where I and my father and the spirit of truth
have taken our abode to remain as long as we both shall live.

Is that what Christians believe?
Or must I be in some other
excre-essence from a
culture myth twisting into accredited layers of lies
essential excre sense,

spiritual zits, is what ******* always called em.
Once a white corpuscle has done its work,
we splat them on the mirror of our adolescent mind and find

I'm not who I was
not a child
not a tweener or a teener or a something something,

I am an old man and I am alive.
I have survived, but it ain't over, so

is there any good that I can do?
Poetical speaking. I don't work on nobody's farm,
no mo'.

True rest let me make peace with no sweat.
Got the infection, the idea Eirene is,
down deep where that great
notion makes a motion,
like g'wa, wit 'er hand,
go on, man.
g'wa, Eirene, she be callin' you.
Jump in. This is as water, to a fish. To our kind, it's more.

Lovers that apart
   might
Reclaim their
   mastery over

Their wry hearts
   again,
And with
   pretentious smile

Might mask their
    wounds.
But you, lovel who
     departed

To sleep under the
   quiet grass,
That you may in
    solitude find

The peace with earth
         divorced,
Left me alone, a
    
broken  heart:

Our promise of yore
   is now no more!
Nor can my
   weakened spirit
      peace attain,

Nor can
   remembered love
      bring me relief;
Nor can gloom offer
    me release,

Nor to any distraction give
         myself;
By divine chance we
    happily met,

And by divine plan
   we're now apart,
As this year's grief
   teaches me in
      truth:

Consider the death
    of one so loved,
Merely such love's
    polite recusal!
   -by Hakim Kassim.
  NOTE: This poem, "Requiem," was made in honor of my father, Dr. Hussein S. A. S. Kassim, written soon after his death in March of 1994.

remember robbie burns and the poetry he wrote
all around his head his poetry would float
all the little beasties that he would write about
a master of his craft of that there is no doubt
he kept us entertained and gave his poems some fun
this famous scottish man who is scotlands son
we sing  auld lang syne a song that is renown
in each and every city in each in every town
so celebrate the man when it is burns night
this lovel;y man from scotland that brought us such delight