Eyes there a inconvenience in the shadows
of perpetual darkness,  like ailments of light
they shift around my desolate room.
I hear things, things that I should be able to
visualize with nothing within the perceptive
gazes of my sight.

I once had a life, I wouldn't call this life but
a destitute lingering of shimmering reflections
that resonate back to this place. filaments of
noise lacerate on my senses. Then I hear the
echo of past pains, my ears are vacant this
melody that I hear within my cerebral contusions.

Whispers slither within my memories, violating
valuable instances, the hairs on my arms procure
a stance of pins magnetized on vibrations.
Shading accumulates within the room and a voice
plays on the shadow of my flesh and I hear:

"Where
            is
                DADDY,

"Where

                   is

       DADDY,


I shudder as I see nothing before me, but
shading that illuminates the surroundings
in visceral empathy, that I  cant rightly conceive.
I encompass my reaction too slowly as thoughts
willingly motion my palms forward to oblivion.
Regressing on the onward offerings, I step back.

Have I been thinking to much, am I seeing things
that are an apparition of my desolation within
the world of my singular selves. I stumble away
from the solitude lingering in the blank reflections.
Instead I look in the mirror and see myself speaking

"Where
            is
                DADDY,

"Where

                   is

       DADDY,

My younger self hammers on the echo's
of a past, unwritten words collect on my
reflection. I could stop this, if I just listened
to tearful repetitions, but I just walk into a silent
nullity of air. A reproduction of fading moments
tries in vain to stop this continuation of ourselves.

Awoken on a ***** mattress in a room, I remember
this place, but it seems desolate like the feelings
were drained from its existence.. I'm only a child,
why am I here? I cry out "Where is daddy,
Tearful in this moment, till I see a rope hanging loosely
from the ceiling, I swing back and forth, its cold on my fingers.

winds of change began to blow*
whirling in a different circulation
was the onset in alternate show
we did see its reverse oscillation

it would always be the same drift
in blew the current not familiar
inevitable this variable lilt's shift
instead of the ever so similar

the old guards twirl was replaced
timely this course of rotation
their admin's were all displaced
to permit substitute invocation

heaving with a breath of force
heralding another direction
how they did like this divorce
*haling the swing of inflection

Circumstances are hinges
Where poetry swings.
They can open a door
To a million linguistic expressions
Or they can shut them off
**** them in the sore of your throat
But never mute the meaning of.
Meaning lays in the very state
Of furtiveness and nakedness
From which words, inner or external
Emerge.
When mine merge with yours
It's beautiful
But when feelings do
As ore as they can get
There is not a word
Left to say.


-- Eleanor

A girl kicks her legs while sitting on a swing,
unable to coordinate her young body to move forward.
Her small hands are wrapped around the chain links,
holding her high so she can only touch her toes to the ground.
Her stomach hurts and she frowns.
It always hurts when she tries to play, so she stopped trying.

A teen kicks her legs while sitting on a swing,
not having the energy to move herself forward.
Her bitten fingernails pick at the ridges of the chain links,
holding her now that she is far too exhausted to do so on her own.
Her whole body hurts and she can't even frown.
It always hurts when she tries to breathe, so she stopped trying.

A woman kicks her legs while sitting on a swing,
too sleep-deprived to move her body with enthusiasm.
Her hands that have written millions of words wrap loosely around the chain links, gripping on for the sake of formalities and tradition.
Her body doesn’t hurt anymore and she never has any expression.
It always hurts when she felt sympathy, so she stopped trying.

A mother walks up to a swing,
allowing her own child to tug her towards it.
Her actions are careful as she pushes her precious cargo,
cradling it yet letting it roam far enough to find happiness.
Her whole body feels light and she can't stop smiling.
It always was a struggle to keep going, but she never stopped trying.

A old woman is pushed to a swing in her wheelchair,
Her daughter urging her forward as her granddaughter skipped beside them.
Her hands rest lightly and carelessly on the armrests of her chair,
Relaxed and gentle as she teaches the next girl about her battles.
Her whole body feels rewarded and she always wears a small smile.
She never thought she would, but she succeeded.

My sweetheart let us be more open in our love relation
Let us wear our hearts on sleeves to be the companions
Let us be heart to heart and lips to lips with compassion
Let us make our hearts loving and fertile land so barrens

My beauty of universe enlighten my eyes with your light
Make me bright with all streaks and be with me as guest
Let us feel light and fly on sky just like a colorful light kite
Let us be just one and alone taking the rivals and the rest

Love and beauty are just two shades of one and the same
They celebrate together to bloom in real fragrant spring
I can not survive without you the day I saw you I am aflame
Let me embrace you be in my arms to sing in love to swing

Col Muhammad Khalid Khan
Copyright 2016 Golden Glow

her heart it already knew
she cant hide her tears
once again she's on her own
alone there she swings
all alone there she cries

her heart it already knew
she's hurting from her core
alone carrying this burden
with stress in her heart
again there she swing alone

her heart it already knew
no one's there to comfort her
the only thing for her to do
is swing; swing away the pain
swing just to keep herself sane

her heart it already knew
the swing was not the true
reasons why she sits to cry
this is a special place to think
a place to swing away her worries

here heart it already knew
this was a world of her own
to swing; swing away the pain
here her swinging helps to erase
the stress causing her heart strain

Thomas, Tommy baby,
you are both hot,
and sweet.

Tom Cat you’re red hot--
when I catch you in your Tom Cat Strut,
sauntering across campus,
strolling like it ain’t no thing,

cuz it don’t meant a thing
if it ain’t got that swing baby.

So dig this, Tommy Gun,
you groove with the best of ‘em
when I spot you strollin’—

Your head, teetering left and right like a seesaw, boppin’ baby,
arms hangin’ loosely, swinging freely, wildly, go! go!
legs scooping forward in boisterous trombone slides--
Groooooove Tommy baby!

You’re Louis’s best blows--
ten feet from the mic and the Fives baby,
you’re hot, red hot,
any closer and I'll burn up!
Go!

But you’re cool, real cool,
and oh so sweet.
Super sweet--

in your beard like a pepper and salt shaker tossed across the table,
I look to see those rosy lips part,
and peep those pearly whites shinin' like the bell of Louis’s cornet
brandished in the air, under those ballroom lights--
you’re screamin’ Tommy!

Let me hear that laugh that shakes the room,
punches like Blakey’s bass drum,
thumps like Mingus--

T-Bird you’ve got that hard bop in your soul,
you’re gonna bop to the top TB,
into the third heaven where the angels fall in line to your swing,
that incessant strut that keeps the devil at bay,
Blow! Blow! Blow!

And I see you now Tom Cat,
up there in the clouds,
digging your way across eternity,
bopping and jiving, swinging and blowing,

in your faded khaki pants and worn tennis shoes,
loosely buttoned collared shirt,
tight rectangular glasses that glistened the bell of your eyes even more--
I gotta stand twenty feet away Tommy baby!

You glance down at me and wink,
rearing your head back to let loose that Mingus and Blakey
bottom-end laugh,
guffaw guffaw guffaw!!!

--so hearty and rich,
the backbone of every nervous first-year classroom,
and the sniggering seniors you continued to befuddle and dazzle
with your mysterious ways
and insatiable swing.

So blow, Tommy Gun, blow!
Go Tom Cat go!
Dig T-Bird dig!
Let loose Tommy boy!

Swing for us, swing swing swing--
Hot and Sweet, Tommy baby,
hot and sweet.