I thought you were the Sun
And I, Icarus
Your warmth burned so sweet
Till I became undone

You are so human
With failings and flaws
I failed to see
Blinded by your gaze on me

You were a false God
And I, your most devout worshiper
Sang your praises and thought you sang mine
Now I just mourn all my wasted time.

What Was Lost In False Exchange

Wait. Why was this minstrel running?
Helter-skelter, with no safe place to hide;
A race seemed beyond waters and sand,
The rose he gave thrown onto blazing fire.

Willing to walk 1000 miles and more in a blizzard.
And the wounds I got won’t be healed with a plaster.
Sad still there exist no cure for stupidity.

Love would make one ride on false hope,
Owing the heart and body eternal apology,
Sure, it holds the entire tradition of cruelty;
Town to all forms of joy, pain and despair.

I live on the bank of blissful ignorance  –
Not knowing what’s nor what’s once were.

Fear what you can’t create nor can you force.  
As the sun sets slowly it held the moon closer:
Love is only found in books and in poetry.
Stars perplexed, wind jumbled, oceans standstill;
Even when you gave all they can’t accept?

Ever since I heart the idea of you,
X out were all the senses in me.
Caged by sadness and petulant cry,
Happiness and love are now foreign to me.
And it digs deeper and deeper and deeper:
Now, neither me can change this nor God.
Gathered are these memories, locked up with a tear;
Except what was lost in false exchange.          

©2019 – m.a.

The Thing about Logic is that it can be used to prove anything.

Words Of Harfouchism.

In long cemetery rows
We broke our backs to sow these tilling fields—

Nourishing them with rivulets of blood,
And panicked sweat—

Gun shells sprouting nooses
Make hardened, apathetic blooms—

And we wonder why the fruit is poison—
Giving seeds room to germinate,

In the name of individualism
In the name of industry,

In the name of law,
In the name of order—

In long cemetery rows
We broke our back to sow the killing fields—

To drown out the pain
As weakness leaving having over stayed—

Asking what’s wrong with me
As the lines get deeper,

On foreheads and wrists,
In unemployment offices and churches

We still spit on charity
Ever feeding the sodden ground,

Weakness does not ask control
But only respite

Strength asks for status quo
To overcome and fight,

A test for the True American,
Whatever face becomes this myth,

To be born classless into this stratum of wealth
To indulge humanly and face the consequences

To chase desire and be punished for it
To be the casualty of ideologies

So far removed from what belly and skin want
To ignore the rumblings and twitching—

Who does till these killing fields
But those meant to die there?

While the quartermaster, on hills
Where treaties are to be drawn,

Strips away the olive branch,
Tween him and the planters,

As he waits for the whites of their eyes
To collide as the unthinkable:

An unmanageable force of nature,
The hatred sowed in those killing fields.

But, until then, we drain every last bit
From ourselves, fighting over a dying earth.

Roll out all the fuel we need let’s burn the machine
That could have brought peace.

"Colours" by Donovan.                         
“Colors” by a False Poet.

Yellow is the color of my true love's hair    
sun dapples her gold shadings
In the mornin', when we rise                        
sun searching for the truest color
in the mornin', when we rise                      
peaking, she’s peeking, we waking, uprising
That's the time, that's the time.                  
her best time, sleepy doe eyed, all yellow,
I love the best                                                
bangs tickling eyes, I write of sun sparks

Blue's the color of the sky                          
blue is the primary, the selected color,
In the mornin', when we rise                        
that’s chosen to be a lovers greeting,
In the mornin', when we rise
a cloudy white pastel of blue,
That's the time, that's the time
that’s the days first part, our best parting
I love the best

Green's the color of the sparklin' corn
green Granny Smith apples, ****
In the mornin', when we rise
our mouths pucker, drool, chin juices
In the mornin', when we rise
that’s the days first part, a best parting
That's the time, that's the time
that’s the days first part, a best joining
I love the best

Mellow is the feelin' that I get
mellow is with me, all de day
When I see her, mm hmm
seeing her first eye blinking smile
When I see her, uh huh
the feeling infused, all de day,
That's the time, that's the time
she grants me loves freedom
I love the best

Freedom is a word I rarely use
except when I look upon her
Without thinkin', mm hmm
with knowing, full complete
Without thinkin', uh huh
with knowing, fully, completely
Of the time, of the time
of every time our morning glances meet
When I've been loved

I'm your other half
Your better half
How come you don't hear me
I take what you say to heart
It hurts, but I push through it
To find the truth
You must fear it
But why say you love me
When you don't stand for me
Abandonment is you
So why are you so high?
An addict, abuser, childish user
At least stop saying you're fairer
That lie hurts too
I name the lie
And all you have is a swat
You are violence
Where is your love?
I will cut you off if I have to
So that I may breathe with those who have affection
And you may asphyxiate
And hurt no more

something in the way you speak
or maybe the way you smile
and even then,
I never ever thought,
that falling for you
is the hardest thing
I never meant to

suddenly,
you're everywhere,
every single dreams,
everything I ever want myself to be

and when the clock keeps ticking
you're just out of nowhere

-wonderwall-