but heaven ignored

as man made mind
creates a hell to heaven
or a heaven to hell

From the birth till the death,
Has different level of stress.
Life starts going in darker rooms,
No switch of white light to press.

Since the birth of the child,
Parents force to be at the front in life's races.
Among the 1000,5 succeed,
But have something left in life which can bring snake on the face?

Bad memories give so much of pain,
Start smoking and drinking.
For sometimes give some relief,
But more deeper in hell,it's taking.

Quiver, shiver
Tell me what you see
A trillion eyes
Staring at me?

Flickering light
Hands in their flight
Clack, clacking away
At keys of black
Refusing to say
To utter but a word
Adjust a greatly aching back

Cold and filled with pins
Unwilling, shift in unease
As I sit here
Clack, clacking away
At keys of black
Lingering is a gripping fear
Nevermore are there to be great wins
Only sins
Of failure and defeat

Baking in the boiling heat
For my sister
Something sweet to eat
While my brain is playing twister

Back to the keys
Oh the clack, clacking keys!
How they press,
How they form my stress
Into something beyond my brain
To express my tries in vain

Listen, and listen well,
For this day is a taste of hell
One of many soon to swell

So each day
Here I stay
Clack, clacking at the keys
Unsure when this racing mind shall be at ease.

- Jay M
October 20th, 2020

I saw two silhouettes
standing oblique
in the dark mystique
of a long dead street.

With my path blocked
from the light beyond
I was denied the prize
from whence life absconds.

Were they lovers or threats?
Or jesters and priests?
As they turned astray to face me
With eyes of charcoal gold
They undressed their bones
to bare the holes
within the prisons of their souls.

Tattooed upon these wounds
were promises forged too soon
Shattered by the witness
of the ever weeping moon,

I saw ones fate soon marooned
with great fortune entombed in doom.
Although courageous by nature,
Folly is the prisoner of passion

The second wore simple linens,
and espoused poetic virtues
He spoke of poets long since dead
but said you can reach them if you choose.

As I drew closer to these phantoms
I spied familiar faces
One was young and one was old
They spoke of conquests long foretold

One spoke of ******,
The other spoke for Buddha,
both said life is what you make it,
Tho, when I gazed into this mirror
I was neither dejected nor elated

❝ a man curses his self-created hell;
   a trap he weaved for himself
   that later on evolved
   into a labyrinth of intricate design

   his choices,
   the basis of his sorrow
   a product of ignorance
   that drowns him
   in the ocean of confusion

   he becomes lost
   in the prison of darkness
   floating in the sea
   of perpetual gloom

   searching for the light
   with eyes open
   but senses shut
   stumbling about for eons
   and eons

   blaming fate,
   God,
   circumstances,
   but never himself ❞