We are all lying in the gutter
But some of us are looking at the stars
And wait patiently
Getting rid of the fear
Until clouds disappear
Because we know
That once more
The stars will glow

Two arch rivals
One game
One match
One god
One king
And that's Sachin and Dhoni!!

And one victory!!

Of course, rejoice!!

But is that real??
Ask yourself after you're done with your celebrations!!

Two arch rivals,
Endless friction
Sleepless borders,
Thousands dead
Thousands injured,

Yet no clear solution!!

Victory is not in a days match!!
Victory lies in years fight!!

Heroes are not those who hits boundaries!!
Heroes are those who guard our boundaries!!

Happiness lasts for a day in the game
With a promise of peaceful future lies the fame!!

Losing to the rivals is no shame!!
Losing to the terrorists, who would take the blame??

Think
And
Reap a good thought today!!

Hallowe'en night's here!
The kids go out in costume,
Dressed up as Muslims.

Thorns in the hearts of millions and fear in the minds of billions.

Heard across the whispers of machines, spoken to the minds of onlookers.

Entrances carved into the souls of children by myriad opinions.

Young ones engraved with a memory, reared to despise terror as one would hookers.

Advance the agenda. Propaganda distributed; phones, theaters, televisions alight.

Losing our souls to the terror, we huddle in our whining and dining rooms.

Lips loose and battering what we don't understand, they're the terrors! Don't you understand?

Destitute is reason in the fanatics worlds away, yet in our very homes.

Encouraged to make poor our own empathy, as we seek them out.

Solace lost on our tongues we devour them, mercy removed from our bones.

Everyone knows we have to get them first, right? Right. There's no other route.

Right is confused with fear. They've made us just like them. Just like them.

Vie for change! Do it all you want, but you can't change them, not with sinful might...

Entrance them with modernity, educate them, sequester them, it's a farce, a problem.

Aren't we the beasts? Shooting missiles from a, "Wicked City," televisions alight.

Grand mess we've made, hypocrisy ten miles high, sin ten miles deep.

Right. Where were we? Who shot last? Compare past to past, continue the fight.

Already we're planning, where to strike next? Whack the hive, make 'em weep.

Vanishing like shadows in all-encompassing light the terrors disappear.

"'Enraging us again,' coming soon!" the sequel should be good next year.

Scarred from beating and flogging
Left for dead by the tyranny of an Emperor  
But gifted life by the love of the King
In unmarked graves like poor peasant slaves
These people of God left only a forgotten story of heroism

They suffered for the cause of the Savior
Losing eyes and limbs for a cause greater than themselves
Persecution at the highest stakes
Death here on earth to attain love after
Martyred for all that is good and that is Holy

These saints, the ancient followers of the Messiah
Went unto their death for the sake of the Church
They were nailed to trees, burned while yet still breathing
They were eaten by wild animals, skinned alive
And still yet, the Church marched forward into Persecution

It was high time that the Church begun mourning
That the people of God began to cry out to God
Begging for His mercy, crying for justice
Requesting intercession from the great pain of their brothers and sisters
Praying the prayer of the Church; ‘Come Lord Jesus’

The citizens of this tyrannical empire became saints of Jesus Christ
Rome became the center of the Church of Christ
The people of God looking unto the Holy Father of Rome
To find good teaching of the Word of the Lord
Misled though they had become, the center of the Church on Earth lies in Rome

For two millennia saints of the Lord Christ have been martyred
By those who claim names other than the Lord
And by those who claim even the name of Christ
But the days of suffering have yet to end
And they will not end until we see the very face of God

For even on the very day of the feast of the Resurrection of our Lord
Twenty-one men, saints who had proclaimed the name of Christ
Served their purpose to give light and life to a darkened world
Even unto their deaths and the days and years following
For they saw the face of the risen Lord, Jesus Christ

We see on foreign shores our brothers in chains
Suffering for the cause of the Savior
For His Bride, the Church of Jesus Christ
We can see the suffering saints in chains and behind bars
And we can see them dying without food or water

We watched as our brothers bound by chains knelt on a seashore
Kneeling before the Lord Jesus Christ in faith and obedience to Him
But standing behind them the very hands of Satan
Attempting to dismember the Body of Jesus Christ
Oh what a pitiful, futile effort to dethrone our Risen Lord

The saints had their throats slit and heads removed from their very bodies
Their earthly lives ended for their faith in our Lord
What an absurd attempt to defeat the risen Christ
These hands of Satan vow to dismember the Church of Christ
But they will not be victorious over our Risen Lord

The lifeless bodies of these saints lay upon the sand of the shore and their souls lifted up
As if taking the heads of the saints of Christ brings upon more darkness
Only giving more truth and more life and light to darkened dying world
They may take the heads from individual saints
But they will never take the Head of the Body Of Jesus Christ

These murdered and martyred saints of Jesus Christ
Their blood pouring into the sea turning the ocean to blood
South of Rome, the city these hands of Satan vow to overthrow
The center of the Church on earth against whom they wage war
But attempt to overthrow our Lord, and you will be defeated

Is now not the time to lament?
Is now not the time for the Body of Christ to rise
And with one voice cry out to the heavens; ‘Come Lord Jesus!’
For now, just as all days past and to come,
The people of earth need the Savior

Perhaps the time has once again come to mourn
Perhaps the time has come for the Body of Christ to once again lament
To the east and the west, we hear terrible cries of terror
To the north and the south, we can see tears of despair
For once again, it has become ever-so obvious of our need of the Savior

Come Lord Jesus!

My pen is drawn,
I play my card.
In opposition, bullets charge
At the humble hull that graces space.

I row through open,
Sound is broken,
Yet I feel the great explosions
As I begin my work of art.

His beard can change the name of Virgo,
As it entangles her with rugged work.
His fingers grasp the fins of Cetus,
Guiding him through hallowed dirt.

Upon my course of groundless ground,
A chorus spits its sinful praise
Upon the Heavens, hands are raised;
Filthy angels make the games.
Holy traitors, boundless bounds,
And sacrilege will fall as rain.

The ones who think they are marionettes,
Will taste the blood on their swords.
Controlled by delusion,
They swing from confusion,
There are no strings in an aimless space.

The pen masters dance in allusions!
Imprison the stories of old,
And execute them with ink!
A war to break out in a comedy show,
Over one wordless tome—
On an altar in my vision zone!

My pen unarmed,
My senses harmed.
A soundless token of echoing voices,
To be spoken in softness, over thundering roughness.
This altar carved with wood and stone,
This tome of words with sheets of ink,
These words wear masks— I cannot read.
Tear a page,
It falls like rain.
Observe the rage,
Let freedom faint.
Soak the page,
Its masks detatch.
Lift the rage,
I row away.

A desperado can’t feel the pleaded for life,
They won’t allow a life to breath today,
Their strength to see a soul in mourn,
They grow under the sea of blood,
But can defeat them through not to foreboding!

By: Nida Mahmoed

Jakarta, 2016*

some say the city is stippled with warnings
but nobody took the time to stop and sojourn deep
  into the augur – there was no price to pay
and no song to be sung. only strange silence trying
to renounce the inscrutable weight of peril;

but a while ago, the tabloids and the papers are
dizzy with tribulations – each word assumed not sound
  but force. the once Decembering wind transmogrified into
a penitent squall of smoke until the city was of a veiled mother
    weeping behind the pretense of a shadow.

not much was said, or perhaps we were speaking
  for such a long time, or we did not mean many things
but wounds and cuts and some lostness to which we all have
  gone blind and deaf: coming in daylight’s whisper.
   we cannot hear. all of which may not be revealed, like
a new phrasing that has not been conceived yet, and so we lay
   in the silence for now, hushed by surrounding scenes,
               in pursuit  of heart.

As a child
I wasn't really afraid of the dark,
There weren't really monsters in my closet and the feeling of checking under my bed was never something that I had to fear,
But as I grew older,
I learned that the monster was always in a far away place,
I learned in school that monsters didn't really exist and there was nothing I should have to fear,
I grew up in a Christian home
Learning that in some way I needed to be saved and I accepted that protection
Learning that living in hell for eternity was worth being saved from
But in my innocence I forgot about the monsters that live here
As planes are crashed into buildings
And snipers in cars
Inciting terror upon innocence
As a child in a free nation is oblivious to the fact that there is something to truly be afraid of
Something that's hidden
The cracks in the glass of this facade only seem to spider across the dark crevices of my brain wishing to...
Wishing to be free
Clawing their way up my throat
Asking for forgiveness instead of permission
Wishing to let go of their bonds because the only thing that's keeping them there is the thought that they could be kept at bay
Brittle chains with keys in the locks and the only thing that stops them from being set free is us
I've been told the eyes are the window to the soul
That if you look closely you can see their thoughts and desires
And demons
And as it turns out I'm blind to the fact that when I try to look in the mirror
That monsters won't chase me in my sleep and claw away at my soul

That no one is in control of the monsters
The monsters are in control of me.

Humanities greatest lie is that we can save our selves.
The monsters won't be free because we won't let them take control until they do
And this great deception has conceived this monstrosity that nobody has seen because everyone is afraid to look inside ourselves to see how awful the wound really is
We can't see our own glass houses caving in
The monstrosities of this world are our own creation
With homicidal tendencies
and a Picasso like disposition
Spraying our own blood upon this ripped apart canvas and calling it art

As a child I was told monsters didn't exist
That, the monsters were in a far away place
They couldn't attack me in my sleep and that there was nothing to fear in this world
I just didn't realize it was all in my head.

As children we are afraid of the monsters under our bed
Asking our parents to look under neath them for us so that they can prove that it's just our imagination,
"There's nothing to be afraid of" they tell me
Running to the parents room in the middle of the night to ask to stay with them because we don't grasp the reason why we are scared to begin with.
I wonder if nightmares are from the monsters trying to be free
Breaking out of their shackles of our parents lies telling us that monsters don't exist,
That there's nothing you have to fear because the monsters can't touch you.
And you as an innocent young child convince yourself that they only tell you facts because you can't comprehend that,
It's all in your head,
The greatest lie that the devil ever told was that he didn't exist,
The second is that there are no monsters,
Lying to ourselves cause we are the monsters
And they lie to us so we put them off as non existent
It was all... in my head.

I'm gonna ask you to look in my eyes,
I wonder,
I wonder if you can see mine