Today these feelings are billowing
                        like a prevalent arbitrary
       tension
            of poets as elves
Is there any
              thing new
                          to be proud of  
                          a words structured in an order
                                  peculiarly pleasant
                              refind enough
                                 just and justified
                                                       as
                                                      the right chord
                                                                ­              is
                        as a melody of a classical piano
to be laid down on a virtual array
of a poetry realm
over                                                       ­           ((  night  I've   danced

beautifully   with you  ))


      laping     erratically      striking    
harsh      on   hearing           nerves system

embrace thy emptiness
                                  to write is to discover
                                        to arbeit machts mir frei
praying for minutes for a pasus that's not so
     poignantly  s  l  o  w
                   after

                    hysterya of bumping crazy chords stampede
fades

hope         that you are looking as nice as a well nurtured horse
horhe
     hi **  
            four legged friends are a balsam
for our torn souls

wrecked emptyness is eating me alive
                 as a wicked
                      bewilderd beast

you are a honey jar
tilled with a bunch
     of naughty
    mischievous
sunny rays
                      tickle tickle
                             maroon and gold sweety
                          
I need a bachelor
I needn't think unappropriate
I need to breathe I need to breathe
I needn't think about parasympathics
A n d D a m n   I n e e d B a c h

I could write you away
Into a million poems
Escape from your being
As you are sprawled out
On a thousand crumpled sheets
Thrown in many dust bins
Or caught under the bed
Maybe lying on the desk
Or trapped inside my mind.

A tale of adventure, A tale of strife. 
A tale of wisdom, a tale of life. 
In the streets of afghan, a quick learner
Enchanted by the kite runner. 

A tale of loss, a tale of gain.
A tale of horror, a tale of pain. 
With strife and hurt, all bestowed. 
And, the mountains echoed. 

As sorrow seeps,
Mariam weeps
A tale of hurt, 
Out to blurt. 
With arrows, bombs, axe and guns
Burnt with a thousand splendid suns.

I believe that a word paints a thousand pictures.
     making you feel,
     if not many things,
     at least something

Believe that a word paints a thousand pictures.
     it is more than it seems
     when said
     more powerful than it looks like
     when written

A word paints a thousand pictures.
     helping you feel,
     envision,
     creating something
     this world has never seen

                                      .....or felt.