What flies higher and faster than an eagle;
Moves in underwater distances greater than a whale,
And quicker than a shark;
On land, makes the chetah look immobile;
Can burrow deeper, and more effectively than a mole;
Is more powerful than elephant, rhino;
Has a higher perspective than a giraffe;
Presents with more audacity than a monkey;
Yet has the discerning powers of a gnat,
And the future longevity of a fruit fly?

Silent ruins stand,
Ghosts of a lost world whisper,
Dust cloaks barren dreams.

I know I won’t be here forever,
and I am just wasting away,
watching politician playing their games,
play acting outrage while preventing change.

There is a no place for my face
that shifts and distorts from the pain
that I am forced to witness over and over again.

I’m not the cleverest
but stating facts makes me feel like
I’m trying to scale Mt. Everest
while screaming against the bitterest winds,
like I am going to have to watch all of my friends
slip off the top and drop nonstop
until our whole civilization ends.

I’m just dressing my heartbreak up in
stark sparkling words meant to
amuse and enlighten all of you,
until the same fate catches up to me to,
and my legacy disintegrates
with the rest of the human race.

Conflagration,
Conflict & confusion.
Consternation,
What comes, and has been.
Condemnation,
Of fact, and of fiction.
Comatose.
One world, many nations

how is it that i feel this strange way, even though i choose to ignore it, to brush it aside like noise coming from a construction site.
what is this uneasiness, the shaking of my body at the hands of winter?
do i simply choose to ignore it because i consider it insignificant or is it simply that am not brave enough to face the consequences of such thoughts?
these thoughts that are harder to understand than reaching the reefs of the sea.
i occasionally let the sun burn my skin, and let the rain drench my body hoping i would find answers in suffering,
but all it has taught me is too wiser in taking decisions, as i am confronted with a cold later.
how is it that we could be like liquid, formless and shapeless, sinking deeper and understanding every molecule of our existence?
how is it that we align ourselves with the secrets we hold that we ourselves, are not even aware of?
maybe we have always been like this, forbidden from knowing some parts about ourselves.
yet we think we know the world more, when the secrets within us are lost in the dunes of the desert.
this desert doesn’t really have an oasis, because the water dried up a long time ago, when humans didn’t even begin to question themselves.
to be like liquid now, to be free and yet know our deepest selves, maybe all we need is a little rain in this desert?
but the coast is far, and the winds only carry sand silt.
i wonder if this is how a civilization dies.

Golden colours by the river, old and grey 
they sparkle over each side of Bamiyan Valley

Shines and smiles of caves annihilate them
Prior to Monk XuanZang to fabled silk road.
You heard the fire and bombs in the veins of heart’s purr.

They are all stones; one big, another smaller.
It was a Sunday, a pray day and you heard the egos of
screams:  morals! Your eyes and lips ampersand

Dusts and sands persist over 1700 years of Dynasties.
Sculptures of love vanished at Bamiyan valley

Was this loves outcome then, these stones made, red materials                                                 
Addressed with an order of elimination that fires so blindingly?
“Not in vain, not in vain, Shall I look for you again”
The voice of XuanZang transformed his precepts are sound,
“An infinite…XYZ”  with the veins of our eternal love.

Their eyelids say.

I don't have to do this
But I can't let this escape me.
We don't cave in
And look for a hideaway
We don't capitulate
And let things fade away.
We renew our spirit,
We renew ourselves,
We renew our world.
We rekindle our inalienable desire
To leave free
And to maintain our freedom
Wherever we set foot
And against all odds.
When and where
It is unavoidable
we answer the call to safeguard
Our humanity,
Protect children and women
And fight for peace.
We push all limits to establish civilizations
In the most uncharted territories;
We ***** cities, towns, and states,
We build countries
Across wilderness and unruly seas;
We proudly raise our flags,
Symbol of the greatness of the human mind.
I don't have to do this
But I can't let this escape me.
It must be said in unison:
Let's make poetry great again.

what if people had hearts,
and cared for one another deeply,
everyone doing his part
to improve his neighbour's condition completely,
without reward or remuneration,
only love for the entire human population?

what if cows had wings,
and buzzed above abattoirs like bees,
*******—as nectar—the skins
off the bodies of humans, fallen to their knees,
in repentance and commiseration
with the suffering of all living things?

listen to them wingmongers
circling round
squawking about how
there be tiny cities on the ground
moss barble asphalt
laid down
betwixt twig-mud megatowers
architecture of invisible sound
leaves decomposing, ants scurrying
spider weaving her web,
connecting flowers like power
lines buzzing beetles hurrying
all the way down the naturebound
highway,
off-ramps to the nine burrows
past the dead squirrel,
through the downpour
of fungal spores more
self-sustainable than any city of yours,
screech the wingmongers,
and from dirt level
i understand their song
these tiny cities will be
long past
when our civilization's long gone