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Shofi Ahmed Oct 2018
A sprinkle of blue sparkle
off the lapis lazuli sky.
A throw of stars
from the full moon night.
We will take in abundance
while rowing the waves
once in the River Nile.

Hear! The crave of oars
breaching the shore.
Reaching out and close
to the pyramid foundation.
That’s scientia is pure rigid
yet so open loose.
One dozen milky ways
can hover in rhythm
over this stony knot!

That doesn’t mean
the Mintaka stars will give
up their shares at all
They will sit on the top.
Without the pyramid moving
a step from the true north.

Between this relative sublunary
and over the moon mural
if and when one spaces up.
The silent Moon takes a pause
humming the prehistoric lullabies.
With a patch of the blue sky
and a starry sprinkle from the night.  
Maybe then we will take a break in
behind the closed doors of the great pyramid!
A poem from my upcoming book Qun: Love is Above Reason
Shofi Ahmed May 2017
She is pyramidon spreads down the pyramid
Led by him up the pyramid that keeps climbing high.
Continues to straighten his straight line but her
curve off the top embraces full is an enduring spiral!

Off the apex of the pyramid the butterfly has slipped out
Still a circle still a cut whatsmore is concealed in the pi?
Future is in now, deathless in death only a pi away!
Shofi Ahmed Jul 2018
The woman makes a house the home
and fills the man's horizontal spread with dreams.

Four walls can’t hold a woman inside
she is veiled but not tied!

The arch in her back hits the mark
virtually dwarfs the pyramid dwarfs the sunup.
The light at the end of the tunnel here is love.

Her inner mystery is her paintbrush.
The colour on her canvas
is a far cry from the rainbow.

It doesn’t fade nor falls on the floor.
Keeping it up the time lingers on.
Every star from far and near
can see here a mirror at home!
Shofi Ahmed Apr 2017
Just a dew drop, let alone the sea,
and a handful of earth, not the Planet Ge.
Not a shade of blue, save the rose for bee
Purely a clear drop didn’t spill in the core,
because the whole sphere feels the pinch.

Singing chorus rains down, bouncing back
to earth the only open-through planet.
No black hole is as deep as the sun jumps,
dives in the dew on every flower they wet.
Every bird in the trees sings and tweets,
yet one is stone quiet, shouldn’t even hiss.
Shh! shh, the sleeping beauty is sleeping!

Cut above the rest, the unique earth
brimming with the infinite finishing line
by design pans out to the transcended pi.
Pure spring, the waterfront by the Moon,
untouched, unspoiled is her swimming pool.

How she goes by, wetting her ****** toe
Only to bubble high up the transcended circle
If only the sun could rise high in that pole,
for the rest of species could sneak a peek.
She’s there with the capstone of the pyramid!

Shots beyond the fixed circle, netting the eyeballs.
The stars, the Moon on the move for pure freedom.
The thrilled earth did come out, smelling of roses
Off the golden cut pi-decimal-abyss digital spring.
With a handful of earth and a drop of water dew
This is a pure mirroring thanks to the original, you!

At the end of the string apt you took her by hand
She took it in emptying her heart and soul
Earth is now too thin on stock, she is no more
Just a shadow, a 360-degree hollow flute!
Oh light at the end of the tunnel shine and show
Play in like in the Night of Ascension once more!
This is a poem from my book Zero and One available on Amazon.
English Jam Mar 21
I claw out of the grave like the phoenix
And for my 15 minute lifetime
I burn like the sun, the gas lamp, California, the Holocaust
Before fizzling out again
I live to die  

I awaken on the production line
I breathe in the ash pouring from the apocalyptic clouds
Disappointed, I turn to my grey sarcophagus
The faceless, factory-made, invisible-as-Kether generation
Buried in the grocery store pyramid

Like Goya's dog, I peer blindly, so tiny
Upwards, into the infinite nothing that awaits
The afterlife, the void, Abraham's *****
Death, limbo, desolation row
The nihilistic emptiness from which I rise
Michael Marchese Jul 2018
The all seeing iris imperial city
The swiftest of stylus this side of the ‘sippi
The trippiest spittin’ Promethean hippy
Conspiracy theorist of eeriest verse
The despotic hypnotic black flag bearin’ Hearst
Still immersing myself in a poverty trap
As I grapple with lack of fact check cashing crap
Cryogenically frozen emotion vibes flowin’
From out my funk bunker boombox
Overthrowin’
Your global dominion opinion with ease
Shootin’ breezes with Tirailleurs Senegalese
I’m the kid wicked picket sign paintin’ Tom Sawyer
The ill eagle Taino privilege enjoyer
Still swoopin’ in mean on each **** I make clean
Pick the bones dry of serpentine oil green dreams
Then I bury what’s left of your money machines
With the pharaohs of old’s latest pyramid schemes
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