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Man 1d
In the boastful, casual manner you portray,
You betray your actual lack of ruthlessness.

The act is a fun game,
But the consequences are heavy.

If no one buys what you're selling,
Suffice to say you're starving.
If it causes greater harm or grief,
Suffice to say you're swinging.

For others yet are playing,
But play not.

For behind many faces hide wide smiles,
By many frames are different the pictures.
For the floors all are dusted.

Be ruthless in gentleness & kindness.
Who is right—us or them?
None stand pure, all condemn.
Same mistakes, the same old tricks,
a world that bends to the strongest sticks.

They want what they want—flawless, bright,
a hollow dream wrapped up in light.
A lie that grips, that shapes the mind,
none escape, none unwind.

Broken thoughts, blind beliefs,
like flies drawn close to tainted grief.
They circle, they feed, they take their share,
but none ask why, none even dare.

All fear when new thoughts rise,
the steps of change beneath closed eyes.
A world still wears the same old gloves,
different hands, but still it shoves.

Never bow to a stick, break free,
step ahead, seek, question, see.
Rise before they bring decay,
before they mold minds into clay.

No stick will feed the hungry mind,
no chains can hold the ones who find—
the truth, the cracks, the space between,
where freedom waits, unheard, unseen.
"Sticks and Fish" explores the conflict between control and freedom, questioning societal norms that demand submission. It reflects on the flawed nature of both the world and the people within it, highlighting the struggle between blind obedience and the hunger for deeper understanding. The poem challenges authority, urging minds to break free from imposed limitations and seek their own truths.
Do not come too close—God will cry.
A silent watcher in the endless sky.
A duty held for endless years,
Yet even gods can drown in tears.

To see it all and never change,
To watch, unmoved, through joy and pain.
What if, one day, He let it go?
A whisper lost beneath the snow.

Would He surrender? Would He break?
Would He abandon what’s at stake?
If even He could lose His mind,
Then what of us, so weak, so blind?
This poem explores the weight of responsibility, the fear of losing purpose, and the unsettling thought that even the strongest may break. If divinity can waver, what does that say about us?
To see it, defines what it cannot,
It brings itself for what is not.
It has knotted its way from futility.
Now it is reality.
From henceforth, you know not,
To see it defies its knot.
I pondered on how the mundane can create absurdity. So, the goal of this poem was to show the existence from the mundane can create absurdity. Though subtle, it is such an anomaly to see, as it is reality.
A life of many,
A life of not.
To know any,
To know rot.
I have seen,
for what I have not.
I have done to know,
That I cannot.
Escape my rage,
For I have wrot,
Is my own cage.
A nightmare,
That I broken.
A sage of mirrors,
For I have sought.
No reflection,
No dedication,
Anything I have knot.
Everything is futile,
For it is eternally mine.
I had some musings of a circle and entrapment, to live like one’s died, so I wrote this poem.
He’s seen the rise, he’s seen the fall,
The hands of fate, he’s touched them all.
Through love and loss, through war and peace,
His journey never finds release.
A wanderer with weary eyes,
Chasing moons in endless skies.
No start, no end, no final stand—
The Forever Man.
Through ages old and years unborn,
He walks the earth, weathered and worn.
A face untouched by time’s embrace,
Yet burdened by each fleeting place.
He’s watched the empires rise and burn,
Loved and lost with no return.
The hands he’s held have turned to dust,
Yet onward still—because he must.
The forever man.
In every sacred corner of thy hall,
The Cup-bearer waits, to heed thy call.
For in the chalice of eternal grace,
The thirst of souls finds its resting place.

A single drop within these yearning eyes,
Carries the truth that never fades or dies.
Within thy glance, both gentle and wise,
I see the realms where spirit and form rise.

The sacred cup, which bids the soul to soar,
Holds wisdom deep, from life's eternal core.
Thy glance, like dawn, dispels the night’s dark veil,
And calls the heart to its destined trail.

O’ Cup-bearer, whose touch awakens the mind,
In every sip, the universe we find.
The world, in drunken dreams, takes fleeting flight,
Yet all it seeks is the hidden light.

For in thy gaze, the soul's true purpose gleams,
Beyond the shadowed world of fleeting dreams.
O’ seeker, drink, and let thy heart expand,
For in this cup lies the eternal land.
The Elixir of Eternity 26/03/2025 © All Rights Reserved by Jamil Hussain
Don’t look at the sky, deceiving skies,
The world will end, you may gonna fry.
Get ready—don’t cry,
God is the trust in the darkest minds,
Don’t get too close, or God will cry.

Things crumble, crying skies,
Land sheeps, all so dry.
When no god, no man shall ever die,
All eternity—a whisper of flies.
God sees when sight has,
If God sees, why for a change
Do we pray without a lie?
No man shall live for a lie.

In God we trust, but us, we lie.
Why create God in a world full of eyes?
All can see, and none can die,
Unless you see none is there to actually cry.
Yet all are there when all lie,
Of a being falling from the sky,
Teaching us of past tribes,
How they lived and others shall die.
For them we save, and us, we try,
Can lie to death but still can’t die.

None can sleep after they try
To know God and find the lie.
That all was God—and still we die.
On land we stay, no heaven, no cry,
None shall lie when lands dry.
Souls forgotten still live in lies,
To others bring evil in the trial,
To get wins to the same lie,
And it ends in one scene—
All say, "Why don’t we say one little lie?"

Again, God lies to the ones who die,
They still cry, and they can also lie.

May God see—and choose to die.
"A moment of revelation, a whisper from the void. Written in the dark, in a trance of thought and fear. Read it—if you dare to question."
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