Sun Sep 3

Do you dare to fall in love with a writer?
You won't be unloved ever
If you are forgotten
You will be the saddest words
but meaningful scratch

You can not evade completely from the love
If you  try to break a piece of the heart
It turns into words
Words never run out

You leave a footprint in the sacred or darkest place
Where the thoughts cry
Where the soul smiles in
Unbroken Utopia

The writer always have your name
in allegory, in stanzas, in sonnets
Distance really does not exist in imagination
You will always be in metaphors
You will be written in existence
and forever in metronomes
that swings with seasons
time to time
but it comes back
You can never ever elude

That's what a love or poetry does
to a writer
A cure, the greatest escape
The relentless love
A puzzle
with hypnotic eyes
Searching for enigmatic salvation

Decades of ashes passed by
Memories fade into oblivion
Words Rule....
Would you love to love a writer with a Utopian song?
That keeps playing in the closest place
inside of your heart eternally....

Sun Apr 28

Moments come
and sit with my silence
Make me feel relentless
to embrace my different versions
They are footprints,
only one set of footprints.....

I can not count them all
in my saddest or lowest hours
but live in them

     Some are~
Some are worth capturing
but aching

Some moments
are Breathtakingly Beautiful
    Some are imperfect
but brave
   Fragile and bitter

      Inconsistent but Memorable
      Broken and half-forgotten
            but Lost.....


Dig your grave
You wanted to dig
It's too steep
Your in too deep
No room to stumble
You gotta climb them walls
If it cost nails
You have to dig those fingers
Into the blood lubricated crevices
Found in the gritty walls edges
Should there be a rope at this point
Your ground up nubs could no longer grasp it
As you wallow in the self pity
Wishes of swords swallow
You refuse mercys beggard exist
Pain encouraged weakness leaves
Body and conscious hope
One last effort for the wall groped
Ten toes

Pain is just weakness leaving the body

A grey area in my body my sweetheart is just my heart
Which takes me to fountain of beauty being direly thirsty
Being a large reservoir it accumulates in it beauty of all sort
It remains busy in this connection and is never ever free

So I capture beauty in it where ever I find it or just locate
Being a lover of beauty I never ever feel tired to take rest
At times beauty shows after lot of struggle at times in plate
I am created by my Lord in the mold which suits me best

Eyes and heart play entirely to be very near to the fountain
Soul and body take risk to be always on the proper path
In this pursuit I have to surmount mountain after mountain
My beloved you are a burning candle I am a relent less moth

Col Muhammad Khalid Khan
Copyright 2016 Golden Glow

Jack Jenkins May 2016

To be awash in the depravity of your own soul,
To be bound by a fetter in captivity to your enemy,
To lose the greatest thing we could ever have,
And call it all "very good."

Liberty and freedom, lies and falsehoods,
This people we have become, intolerant.
We have laid claim to unparalleled diversity,
All the while losing individuality, gaining isolation.

We have learned to fuck freely and masquerade it as love,
While the greatest act of love- forgiveness- is buried beneath condemnation and intolerance.
Who are we?

We are a relentless generation,
Seeking a fill to the void in the fibre of our souls,
Prancing and skipping from one fad to the next,
Demanding rights for our wicked ways.

What is it that will finally quench our thirsts?
When will we start doing what we tell others to do?
Who are the people to finally break the chain?
We will all die alone.

A poor attempt at crying out to Western society's madness.

Every muscle in my body
Begs me to run
To chase your car
But then your taillights crest the hill
And disappear beyond

My mind lingers on you

Are you wearing your seatbelt?
Are you alert and emotionally sound?
After all
A distracted driver is just as dangerous
As a drunk driver

And no
I am not ok right now
Fear and feelings and Hydrocodone
Cloud my mind
Every time I watch you leave
Hurts more than the last

But this weekend was amazing
I had so much fun
Felt so loved
So safe

This weekend was not wasted
On painkillers and platitudes
This weekend was real
Tactile and truthful

My love is relentless
And I will pursue you
To the end of the earth.

Seth Milliman Feb 2016

They want more than a thank you,
Always wanting more than they need.
It never ends with a thank you,
Just saying more please.
Where did we grow so discontent?
Burning desires that never relent,
Why can't we just accept a thank you?
As a satisfying benefit,
This world is always wanting more.
Greed always knocking at the door,
But why can't it just end at a thank you.
Instead of always wanting more.
Remember to say thank you,
And never always wanting more.

Streaks of red and black strike within
To tangle dangerously around my fragile skin
So volatile and sweet
I can melt my surroundings in a blink
And all it would take
Is one disdainful look
To trigger a demise

I live in a home of carmine red
Rigged with thorns of regrets without fortitude
And the floor covered in ragged rugs
To hide the scars of my tragic misfortunes

Rants and screeches bring severe astringency
There is no mercy
As it always reaches deep inside my throat
And around my neck
Tightly coiled, hurtful words begin to suffocate

The boiling blood of relentless fury
I am left in a steam of silence
Without a vent to this clustered chaos
I have become a hidden rage within me
As I watch the icy, red glow
Eradicate my destructive home

John Archievald Gotera 
The Home of Carmine Red © 2013 - 2015
Jordan Sterling Aug 2015

as I try to find myself-
in between these shots-
you jam your key into my temple.

Although I Helplessly Squirm




Secluded dreams are your fragile fingers
never to caress harsh tree bark creeks again
pulsating in vain when you don't hear the drumming dominion
of my tactile gentle tips falling in love with your philosophical nonsense
constellating words become sensual sonoric spaces
between you and me betweex texts of adoration
one typing pad and a hot salvia tea
serves you' mastering over
the paint brushes
in a pot
and splashing
drawings, fine arts, parts of an intimate instrumentalia
To parties
Freshly washed t-shirt hangs over one empty bottle
Sealed contentment, sleepless nights, red wine dizzy
adrift and fiery
one giant dragonfly emerging from the clouds
At the end has crashed the mighty wings and
the haunted sounds; all of my desires for you
the old blood
catching a fire flower within your palm
torchering torches turning us, our lust, into the waxed reciprocity
sideral  you still love me  tropic  me still crave
to arouse you solely by my
empty words
in between days solstice
in between the dying
night's Équinoxe

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