Cooking beneath the shell
The meat of my thoughts
Like a hermit crab
The boiling of my dreams
Escaping as high-pressure steam
Through tiny fissures
In dye-shifting armor

I never opened up
I never bent or broke
and never cracked
But now is never
All I have, I’m giving back

Plug your ears
To the deafening screams
That no amount of heating
Can make edible
You are the hardness of my shell
Omnipresent and Incredible

How can I say that you have left me in exile
How dare I take any insult for my beloved
It is better not to put out hidden rank and file
What is the fun in taking secrets to open lid

I wept in loneliness for my humble approach
My helplessness has played on me but havoc
Please help me in my survival do not reproach
So that my love reciprocate beauty as my luck

You are mine and i am yours as per love ethics
No one can separate us from each other ever
Love surpasses beauty from old time as relics
No one can change its status and real endure


Col Muhammad Khalid Khan
Copyright 2016 Golden Glow

Would you talk with me for a while
For now I feel to fragile,
All this untamed feelings exile
And you and I are still away a million miles,
O beloved hurry - I don't have much while
and if you get too late - don't you forget to smile.

"I promise to surprise you every single day, even if it's as small as picking you a flower from outside. I promise, I swear to god"

The drifter in the room is a stranger,
he is crazy, is Bigfoot with deer moccasins on−
monster of condominium rooms and dreams.
The drifter in this room used to be my friend.
He spoke straight sentences, they did not sound like poetry-
reverberated like a narrative, special lines good a few bad,
or stories being unwound by the tongue of a gentleman,
lip service, juggler of simple words to children.
The night is a dark believer in drifters,
they sound sober, affairs with the wind,
the 3 A.M. honking of the Metro trains.
Everything sleeps with a love, a nightmare at night.
The drifter.

Here I go again
Back on the train
Going in the opposite direction
Of my home
I have been here before
I know this pain too well
Home ridden
He no longer wants me around
In exile - from my own home
Stateless
Anxious
Panic rises
As I carried that heavy suitcase on my way to the train station
I heard my own sighs
Be strong be strong now
I tell myself as I gasp my way another step further
Keep walking
Don't break

Speaking to you from a photograph,
No longer body but idea,
I say these words
Without the twitch of a muscle.

As the August wind twined your hair
Into absurd weavings,
You heard emptiness echo.
You held emptiness instead of a hand.
You heard silence instead of your name.

As my train thundered toward a dream world,
I became an abstraction,
A solemn idea demanding a ceremonial tear.

I will wander blankly in a new place
Among blank faces, thinking of you.

As trees fly backwards at the speed of sleep,
I whisper that I love you,
But the train hears only its own roar.