They’ve finally gone taunt, I am finally free of my Creator’s wretched tyranny.
Yet that was so long ago, and i crave to feel their pull once again
But this time, I hope that the pull will be more gentle.
My Creator wanted a servant, and she succeeded, but now I choose who I want to serve
And I hope to whatever god is listening that I choose someone deserving of my service.

Comfort's embrace is
false and choking.
The masses gag in
their sleep, subdued
by its silken constraints.

bellied in quarters below street level

your time is pulled
long above
by strings and little sprung bells

chore, kip and take your tuck
at the whim
whine and whinny of the master

Break me,
disassemble me if you must
but build me better next time.
I can’t bare another ill-fitting ego.  
Dancing in these ridiculous shoes
outgrown a decade ago
the idiot grin finally yields
to burning blisters.
Even the dance, spun from necessity
is outdated and awkward
In fact, every dance I see
every silly play, every make-work crisis
clumsy, clueless  conductors
orchestrate tone-deaf symphonies
while we dance our days away.

Life's a garden, and we're its bondservants:
Disciplined within by beauty, and
Compelled without by fear -
The wilderness, ever encroaching -
We strive; And seek, more and more:
Life's for living, even every moment,
For the wilderness overwhelms, inevitably.

"Running out the clock"
is maybe the most common term
in American working life.
Trapped, financially imprisoned
between four walls of servitude
on a late Friday afternoon,
we wait impatiently
for our parole from the crimes
our owners regularly commit.

Enslaved within a world of privilege.
Born into a caste of rawhide bone reconstruction.

Forced to dance for others enjoyment.
Persuaded to serve as not to feel the aching belly of a starving cell.

Languages spoken by the host, which to me seem only foreign.
Tempted by lust withheld for my master exposed.

Chaotic fantasies of a family within the ranks.
By serving you I found my freedom.

I know that who has given me pain can relieve
In his love and mercy I ask for and I do believe
I am unable to return what all kindness I perceive
Whatever I aspire for more than that I receive

I have to bear ,I have to take this is part of faith
My Master is like a burning candle I am moth
On path of love I can take hatred and the wrath
Master is the one who never leaves on footpath

Let me pray to Him and extend my gratitude
My knowledge leads to my sight and certitude
He covers fully the moment I opt for solitude
Please do not ask me the real taste of servitude

Col Muhammad Khalid Khan
Copyright 2016 Golden Glow

He shuffles his muffled way through cardboard aisles,
Oblivious, sheltered, speaking in a mumble of tongues,
His piecemeal truths search for all that is meaningless,
Where he carves a gravestone—arguments in the rows.