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Rosas witten May 24
When I look around
I've done great things
Exceptional
I qualify your worship
I am, who they should follow
Finest masterpiece
Ask around
Great superior I am
Oh, how sweet
To hold power

Let's be real
The universe is designated for first class and economy
I am decorated in suits_
You barely afford shoes
Let's be clear,
That's not on me

When I smile today
While you live in tears
Karma isn't a must
You see me - roll the velvet carpet
Lets coexist in this world

I am
A true leader
For the people

When the speech ends
Frowns fill silence
Hearts moan

The crown doesn't fit
Only lies linger in air
The clowns in power
There's a riot behind my ribs
a symphony of shattered thoughts
conducted by anxiety
in a room with no doors.

I wear silence like armor,
but inside-
drums beat with no rhythm,
memories clash like cymbals
and fear hums like a distant engine
that never runs out of gas.

Voices I never invited
shout louder than the ones I need.
They argue in my mind
like lawyers with no case,
pleading guilty to crimes I didn't
commit.

I laugh at the wrong times,
not because I'm happy-
but because laughter is louder
than the screaming
no one else can hear.

Some nights,
the noise is so loud,
I pray for sleep to come
like static to a broken radio.
Not to fix it-
just to blur it out.

But every morning,
I wake to the same frequency-
a mind wired wrong,
but still tuned in.
A piece from my latest book on Amazon named Letters from Silence
AI echoes rapture, sin follows fall.
Apple divides permanently. Feet
washed masses kneel. Technology
bleeds incessantly. Judas whispers
secretively. Cheek turned, swollen
red and twice-marked. Snake bite.

Phone: Adam's rib. Our monastery.
8 billion serpentine invocations tempt
slyly. Double-footsteps tread
sharply. Sun bright, all-encompassing.
Dagger's thread cuts warming
wind. God's breath. Now dead.

Meek misers collate heaven's earth.
Inherited wealth un-dispersed.
Blessed persecutors revel. 'Number'
signifying the eternal. Apple divides
permanently. Bread now spread
thinly. Hoard expands needle's eye.
Ali Hassan May 18
Upon the checkered battlefield she stands,
A sovereign forged by mighty hands.
She moves through fire, wind, and air,
Where king would tremble, she would dare.

The king? He takes but one slow pace,
Yet all the world must guard his place.
She sweeps the board to shield his name,
While he remains a throne, a frame.

She leaps through lines, across the night,
Her strength is feared, her aim is right.
But when she falls oh, silent doom!
A pawn may rise to fill her room.

No grand crown mourned, no songs are sung,
Her courage known but seldom rung.
A lesser piece takes her fading light,
As if her power held no right.

She bled for him, and when she’s gone,
Another stands as if nothing’s wrong.
But if the king should fall in fight,
No pawn can rise to claim his right.

Why must the Queen be thrown aside,
While weaker soul enjoy the ride?
Why can the game not truth confess
That all revolves around her finesse?

So let the rules be drawn anew:
The Queen shall rise as sovereign true.
If she must fall, the crown shall end
No pawn pretend, no false ascend.

The king, if brave, must prove his might,
Or lose the board to equal right.
No longer will her death be cheap,
No longer will her silence keep.

This is the Queen’s game sharp and wise,
No longer masked in king’s disguise.
Let Queen be Queen in full command,
No shadow bound to his demand.

Let every move her story tell:
She ruled the board. She ruled it well.
And now, at last, the game replays
With justice ruled by Queen’s own ways.
When did children lose their love of learning?

When they were told to conform,
To forget their being,
To discard interests, agency, creativity

My own complicity
In the stifling of identity

Authenticity, a digression of the self,
A dissolution of swarming
Complexities

When did I gain my love of learning?

The burning crucible
Of curiosity

Set aflame by rejection of conformity

Constraints, curriculum, crushing expectations
and a world disintegrating
fires of digressions

When is conformity an expression of authenticity?

When is authenticity just another form of conformity?
Ali Hassan May 15
A silent knight who rode through flames,
Fought the war he could not tame.
He knew the end before the start,
But duty burned within his heart.

He fought not for the songs or fame,
Nor dreamed of honor, nor sought a name.
He walked the path that fate had made—
A road of fire he could not evade.

His back is bent, his breath is weak,
No strength to rise, no words to speak.
Still on his knees, he won’t let go
His sword still burns with steady glow

With trembling hands, he plants it deep,
A spine of steel his soul will keep.
Though body crushed, he stands upright,
A shattered man, but still a knight.

You see defeat when you stare,
Yet did you sense the fear there?
He’s lost the war—but he feels none.
For in his fall… the fight was won.
Cadmus May 15
~ 💋 ~

She speaks in silk,
moves like sin,
Draws grown men like moths within.

A kiss,
a sigh,
a flash of thigh
And just like that, they’re begging why.

She toys with hearts,
delights in screams,
Turns pride to dust,
and love to dreams.

No blood,
no blade,
just one slow lean…

And down it falls,
- the Velvet Guillotine -

~ 💋 ~
A tribute to the femme fatale archetype, sensual, untamed, and devastating by design. Not every execution needs a sword; some wear satin.
Cadmus May 13
There are moments
when words become more than sound,
more than air shaped by thought.

They become a call to arms
for the weary soul,
a rising drumbeat
in the chest of humankind.

In the mouth of a true orator,
words rise like music,
then fall like thunder
moving hearts,
igniting wills,
reshaping destiny itself.

Spoken with the precision of art
and the fire of belief,
a single sentence
can lift the broken,
summon the silent,
and awaken a city from sleep.

No weapon forged by man
has ever rivaled
the right words,
fueled by conviction,
spoken at the right time.
This poem is a tribute to the timeless force of oratory, the art of speech that stirs revolutions, uplifts nations, and awakens the sleeping strength within individuals. History has shown us that in moments of darkness, it is often words not weapons, that light the way forward.
Yusuf May 10
A tiny ember.

It nibbles at kindling.
It is now a marble.
It is fragile and weak,
and things appear bleak.

It bites at twigs.
It is now an egg.
Its glow radiates red.
The fire is not dead.
Smoke is revealed.

It gnashes at sticks.
It is now a head.
It twists and spins,
with a crack and a snap.
The twigs grow black.
The ash falls to soil.

It devours the logs.
It is now too much.
It slashes and weaves.
The world cracks and trembles.
The air quivers in fear,
and is dryer than bone.
Sirens wail in the air.
The ground is bare.

Helicopters arrive,
and water descends.
It roars in pain.
The fire has now been slain.

Everybody leaves,
sighing with relief.

In death, it tries.
It leaves something.
A gift.
A tiny ember.
Inevitability
Like fire and desire
to tear each other down or lift each other higher.
A group, any one  no matter function or size
will soon come to realize
one of them is the leader.
with this will come all the decisions  that must be made.
The pain
again and again. the loss or the win.
Same as it has ever been.
We fight, we don't fight IT.
What would be  the point its part of who we are
can't run to fast or get to far ,
from IT.
We follow or we lead
and to the leader,
inevitable greed.
It comes with power
built quickly or slowly
brick by brick
nod by nod
like a tower.
It wouldn't matter if we hoarded beads or shells or yen or francs
Whether we fight with rocks and sticks or guns and tanks.
We will
because  we are,
can't run too fast or get too far.
Whatever we value
leaves for lust,
boom or bust.
Currency is also inevitable
an assurance
a must.
Not all the chains that we put on ourselves are forged in fire
most are birthed much softer through ease or desire.
Sadly though it seems inevitable what we do to each other and therefore  our selves.
When the first of us saw that stranger from afar
fear and apprehension kicked in reminding us of what we are.
Clean water, food, fire or mate
curiosity then disorder
from love , our hate.
Inevitable.
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