Love is a flowing river or a trickling brook? Where beauty can smilingly open its book This is how I want to enhance my outlook Let me see from near let me have close look
Your fragrance takes me along with wind Let me forget painful moments to rescind Only pleasure should dance along to amend Let me embrace you being more disciplined
I thought about you and still I love to think With your glowing cheeks and lips so pink With open bottle of beauty let me to drink Reinvigorated in the taste we came to brink
Col Muhammad Khalid Khan Copyright 2014 Golden Glow
I am the plague, a ghostly vapor My soul bleeds blackness on the paper If you're looking for a happy write Don't read mine you won't get that sight What you'll see is a glimpse of a spirit in total darkness You'll learn just what the cost is As a child thrown to the brink And time and time again I sink Like the platypus, I'm Gods little joke Again and again I choke On all the cruelty throughout the years thrown on me No one hangs around to truly see Beneath the scars I'm only human Despite the blackness and confusion My soul cries out At times it a hushed small shout At other's a battle cry As I pick myself up and again I try But my day's are growing short For I am feeling out of sorts Out of patients, out of hope I can't even begin to cope I feel I just might throw in the towel I'm trying to figuring out how
Is it love or is it lies? Perhaps both, or neither, Inflamed by need, Quenched by self, Swollen with desire. Imagination fans the fire Until the floorboards creak outside my door - Then I brink for her no more.
I constantly tiptoe at the brink of insanity, Continuously treading so close to its realm. Sometimes I wonder if it's worth the trouble Or if maybe, just maybe It would be wiser Smarter Bolder To welcome the insanity And tumble in Head first.
expressive expression expresses itself only ever in an ephemeral way emulating evocation of endings and all they entail which is never not more than what can be known and always less than what is left living in the lake. leaving all that had been learned all that had been/on the verge of lust and unspeakably, life. when they tip-toe and twist away trailing their tails, trying to tell us the opposite of truth: time that trusts the trap. the opposite of what they bury what is brought to brink. miraculous masquerade molding itself into moons many many many moons that might.
