Evidently frogs lie in wait,

And the moon sets on stranger ground,
Than we will ever imagine,

Grey landscapes of endless twilight and,
Shifting sand,

Shadows that congeal into shapeless forms,
Gliding over dank walls,

Flowing into dimly lit caverns,
Filled with hunched figures,

Hundreds of them,
Four limbed slugs captured eons ago,

Growing wings and emerging from sacs,

Peering into neon and,
Farting occasionally,

Stubby limbs chained to,
Grimey floors,

Tubes running into foreheads,
Ruffling DNA,

Every so often we run into humans,
Who do not understand,

That they are only Earthlings,
This side of the Universe,

Night flies on computer screens,
Attracted to the light completely.

The dusk came;
I watched the moon glowing,
and there I have it,
a word to describe the feeling when you’re bluer than blue;
Yellow, darling,
that’s what it felt like, right?
Glowing, but empty.
It’s time to let go of those
who lift you up just to leave you emptier
than when they found you.
Remember how the sun sets to make way for the moon?
Well, this I tell you:
The moon leaves for a brighter day.
The dawn came;
I watched as the sun turned slowly
from red
to bright orange.
It’s the morning,
and
it’s
beautiful.
It’s time to rise and shine darling.
Rise above the horizon
and shine brighter.

To become your own sun,
to realize that you are the world,
and that
the people,
and the places,
and the phrases
and words
and thoughts
and ideas
that revolve
and pass around you
are
to each
their own solar systems.
It was wrong of them to tell us
that no man is an island.
Each one of us is an island,
and it is when you
peek into
The
Looking
Glass
that you realize
that some islands
have beacons
and some have
watchtowers,
yet all of them
are searching
for another light.
To shine in their way;
to lead,
or be lead
home.”

— *Y.O. & D.C.

I was conceived
when my parents recited a love poem together,
my mother then spent nine months when a poet was growing in her womb,
nowadays my mother ask me ,
"Son,where did you picked this bad character of description ?"
And my answer is one sentence
"Dear mother,you recited a poem the day I was cconceived"
"How?"
"The bed and the talk made the hymn"
Smiling rather sad,
"Go out and don't come in again"
But my heart describes anything
The sun
The moon
Air
Emotion and everything
To say,that come my sight
I call it
A poet character.

a watched *** never boils
and you stared at my every move
not knowing
that I would never bubble over
into the person
you hoped
me to be

for two weeks
I thought there was a baby
growing inside me
but instead
I was just late to understanding
how little you need me
and pregnant with the idea
that I could not live without you

my mother taught me
to never judge a book by its cover
but I forgot
that even the prettiest books
can have no literary value

the first (and only) time
you treated me
as your equal,
we were sitting outside
under the stars
and the moon,
which was ever so slightly
blue

my blessing
was not disguised
as a man that looked
and acted
like a mannequin
but rather
a crack in my heart
that took three years to make
and three months to fill

as it turns out,
I am a cloud
with skin made of silver

your eyelashes
quakes
against my cheek,
your eyes whispering
stories
to my bones
i want open balconies
and luminous city skies
i want black sunrises
and wet hair
heavy of plants and dew


there is champagne in my heart
when you touch me
there's **** growing inside of my chest
when you leave me
in the winter night
the moon will never stop bleeding
velvet
is this what love feels like?
deep breaths and cold hands?

///

When I can no more
depend on my moon
to shine heart and heaven

Pen and poetry sleeping
beside me, not even a
wee word further coming

Red roses growing grey
with days, my eyes shut
for the last time

When my heart beats
seeming slow with time,
the last leaf falling from the tree

When the final bell rings for me
can I call you?

///
@ Musfiq us shaleheen

my strange abyss
   my muscle asylum

i breathe you in
   like the moon
       breathes in the tides

do not send me to my doom

take my pitiful offering
   and look upon me
     with favor

let me reside
   in your heart

i want nothing
   more than
      to bend my ear
         to your voice
            alone

quickly...
   the days
      are growing
short

i am covered
in
   copper
         bliss
       see my
  metallic
shimmer

and lead me
into the woods

i’m always all too conscious
of moments hanging in the air
like watching helium balloons slowly
fall down the wall to cover the ground,
i keep stepping on them till they pop

like looking out the window once the suns starts to set
and you can’t see the light fading, but then you
blink and you’re sitting in a dark room

sitting next to you
with eyes closed and breath held
in a moment
that doesn’t feel real

like i’m looking down at the earth
while standing on the moon

and i know i’ll miss it once it’s gone,
but i can’t seem to figure out
how to freeze the hours that feel like seconds
passing by and

then it’s time
to leave and i held your hand
while you drove me home,
thinking about how real everything felt
with the lights blurring past on the interstate,
how i wanted the road to go on forever,
watching you rap stupid songs and
talk about how to feel grown up
without really growing up
and then suddenly

it was gone,
like it was never there

and i sat on my bed
wishing i could walk back into
the hands on the clock and
your hands on my face, but it
disappeared, floated up to the ceiling
carrying my heart with it

and all i have now are
memories that feel like dreams

to play back in my head
until time fades back into you.

I start out as a small seed, pushed deeply underground,
then I am a sprout, small and happy.

I grow leaves and am bright and happy,
I have a head, small and green.

Then....
I burst through the green and reach for the sun!

The sun is beautiful, and I am a sun too,
But I am waiting for the moon. It is beautiful also.

I become the sun of the night,
And the second sun of the day.

I keep growing, and it becomes hard to look at the sun,
my head heavy with pedals, and seeds of my own.

Staring at the ground that I came from, and I drop my seeds.
And I start again, as a small seed, pushed deeply underground.