National WWII museum,
New Orleans,
summer.

Somehow
we have ended up here.

1,387 miles from home.

Here,
where war is so close
yet so far away.

I look at this boy
and for a moment
I swear his smile looks just like v-day.

And his laugh sounds like peace.

And when he calls my name through this crowd,
It feels just like a homecoming.

My beauty of the universe turn my ambition into reality
Come in my arms and allow me to sail in your green sea
Let me explore you for treasure give me this opportunity
You know I am too crazy for you and you my love so silly

When you embrace me nature comes to my arms to dance
Let be fortunate and famous for our love and for romance
Let me take you on along to take just chance after chance
My sweetheart I am ready to sell my life just for your glance

You want to fly with me hand in hand to other side of sky
I want to take you in my arms from lips to lips ,eye to eye
My sweetheart I will show you a colorful world let me try
My sweetheart in your arms in winter I feel warmth of July

Col Muhammad Khalid Khan
Copyright 2016 Golden Glow

it wasn't until years too late
that the oceans once painting
your skin into a weepy
vacation canvas finally
dried and made their salty
descent down your throat.

i hope that one day
you find your mind wandering
back to some sunbleached
air conditioned antique shop
a cool and dim refuge of
kitschy proportions

and i hope one day you can finally
appreciate an afternoon that
may or may not have held
your greenesque day of peace

(by greenesque i mean that
not only was it green but
it also held whispers of the last
chapter in your favorite book
the part where all the pieces fall in place
and nobody is happy with the outcome)

you're just a bundle of
nerves and memories
the kind that keep you up at night
and your hair uneven lengths
the kind that flash before your eyes
through grainy old photographs
and pictures engraved so deep
inside a screen you question
whether or not they
ever even happened.

there are gravel roads
somewhere out there
that smell like home and
kind cold water in a july drought

and i sincerely hope
that you someday find
one of those state-parkish
leafy hollow spring hills
settled deep somewhere
inside your heart

and i hope that someday
you drive all alone for an hour
park on the side of the road and
watch the woods for no reason
except to listen to every love song you
ever knew in your youth
and i hope that your breathing stays steady
and your eyes stay dry and starkissed.

i would cross my fingers
shut my eyes and tie my
esophagus in a knot if i knew
my wishes could grant you peace

and i hope that when you're older
your beachside sunburns and
deep fried fatigue are washed away
by all the seasons of upstate mountain air.

i'm feeling empty
inside
like someone took an
ice cream scoop
and hollowed out my
stomach more easily than
sawing open and
gutting out a cantaloupe.

there's nothing in there
nothing where the seat
of my emotions
used to be
because when i'm alone
even the anger
dulls to the stab of a poorly
sharpened knife.

i've stood in the hot
white kitchen with the tall
metal countertops
some stiff sort of summer
breeze fluttering the
ineffective flypaper
stringing the low ceilings
and watched you
precisely section off a
watermelon.

but now i'm the one on that
hackneyed cutting board
and you don't even notice the
juice streaming to the edge.

my overactive mind
used to be a razor
slicing quickly
almost painlessly
but now it's just a dull
serrated edge scraping
along my slowly
ripping skin.

everyone sitting at
the dinner table
passing me around and
laughing as they sink
their forks into me
and you always wondered
why i avoided family
meals at all costs.

i'm being
eaten alive
like fruit
in the summer
and your only
concern is how
many slices you'll
get out of me
and whether or not
i was sweet enough.

One day I was happy,
living so peacefully.
That day I was bored,
so I painted flowers with thee.

The next day rain came falling,
the things they made us do.
The life I once had cheerful,
has now become so blue.

One task after the other,
with very ample time.
One bite of lunch and dinner,
to my system is a crime.

I thought that time was golden,
it's never to be wasted.
Since when did this thing happen,
when ranks are gold instead.

Before I wished for ponies,
but now I'd yearn for naps.
The times I took for granted,
has led me to these traps.

Here am I just ranting,
while a heap of work awaits.
The world have been so cruel,
and I have fallen for its lustrous bait.