The fantasy of my fruity art
Unbosoms the watermelon of my heart
Where juices fall in cascade of oranges
Streaming the cherries of my eyes
Transporting them to lake of plums
Where apples, pears and bananas drift
By the waves of gustoso grapes
And undertow of cantaloupes relates
The astrology of pomegranates
Scintillating the zest of figs
Inspiring the feasting of berries
No fruit shall be bereft of role
For every fruit's taste expands the soul.

The love of a woman in pure form
Will break every bone of my emotions
I'm too scared to enter such hellish house
Too coward to swallow such fire of love
That reduces my flame to burning ashes
Keeping me away from reviving wind
Suffocating but not dead I remain
Till I be consumed fully by her holy art
Where I shall rise again like a Phoenix
But my feeble mind, my scaredy ego
Can't handle such trying transformation
And I remain in what could have been
Where my heart regrets the lack of sand
The danger I be too afraid to stand
Lucky the man who falls in the well
The abyss of pure fire of woman.

Jung wrote that we must confront
Our shadows in order to become whole
Well, what if the shadow itself
Is the cradle of wholeness
And facing it head-on
Would result in its refusal to cooperate
Inner shadow is meant to play
Behind the scenes, anonymous
One should integrate with the shadow
Rather than overstep its safety zone
No renowned psychologist remained sane
After delving into the forbidden zone
After battling the hidden ghost
Psychology is the arch-enemy of poetry
What poetry tries to bring to light
Psychology hinders its flight
Was the world ever in such chaotic mode
Before the frontiers of Psychology
Were crossed over in enthusiastic drive
To integrate with the inner shadow
One needs spiritual awareness
One needs poetry that shapes the sense
One needs the storm of Nature's feel
One needs doses of emotional healing
That flowers, trees, animals, birds bring
The offerings of Psychology is mortal
The presents of poetry, immortal

Everyone knows or should know
About the First Space
The natural or physical world we live in
Second Space is where
We are supposed to go in the afterlife
Whether it be Heaven or Hell
Purgatory or Limbo
However, not everyone believes in that.

Only the ones with hearts of gold
Can make it to that Third Space
A place beyond the reach of any star
A majestic palace in total darkness
Where pure spirits sway
Providing soothing blue light
To compensate absence of day
It is a place where invisible lyrists
Play music nonstop and sing poetry
Reminiscent of Orpheus' flair
A place where disembodied dragons
Spew black fire animating you
With the magic of dark energy
Which would give you a corporeal form
Much finer than what you had on Earth
Except that such new body won't require
Food, water, or whatever
Your previous frame craved for
Your revolutionary system shall include
A mechanism that would operate
Like a power source for nourishment
And other kinds of necessities
That ****** functions require
It be like having a tiny sun within you.

But there are conditions:
You are not permitted to touch
Or get close to the others of your kind
You are not allowed to make noise
Interrupting the flow of things
The first time you violate such rules
You be sent to curious solitary quarters
Having no bottom and no end
Where a minute can feel like an eternity
Your second violation will cost you
The privilege to be there
And you will be sent back to either
The First or a suitable Second Space
The reason you are sent there is because
You were a paragon of kindness
While living on Earth and your reward
Is not to accommodate
Your humanly desires but to assimilate
The mysteries and wonders of Universe.

In a world fraught with injustice, dread
Poverty, cruelty, vanity and insanity
Someone should think of such fantasy
That may or may not inspire
Hope as well as faith in humanity.

I close my eyes and dream
Of stars, of highs and butterflies
I feel weightless like a feather
Can play with molecules of air
Waiting for winds to lift me up
And cast me on to heavenly stop
I hope it be artists paradise
Where my abstract show survives
Or maybe a sanctuary for poets
Where my words be marinated in violets
There is a chance I be let loose
And land in learning hell of schools
Where I would toil and tackle to unlearn
The relativistic fashion of brain
I may not be tossed at all
To fulfill the celestial call
Ah, what a treat that would be
Hitching my cab to horse of divinity
My eyes open up by some earthly cause
Awakening rationality bugs
Thoughts begin to restrain
The delights of fantasy lane
Logic appears in discouraging phase
Dwindling vision's craze
Oh no, worldliness visiting me again
Rendering my existence insane
I shall refuse it the best I can
To return to the road of dreamy van
At least for a kilometer of time
Till my senses absorb the magical clime
Till my heart reveals the solution
Till I'm free of emotional pollution.

Faith competes with visible things
Giving us an extra eye and wings
To see beyond the fog of thought
To fly above the hills of night
It is not security that it offers
But a colt of courage that inspires
When times are dismal laced with woe
And the inner light can barely glow
When the road is chaotic with emotions  
And escape sparks toxic notions
Faith shall knock on the door
Volunteering to furbish heart's decor
Throughout history's pages
Faith has been a talisman for ages.

Ah yes, the guiding glow of id
The steering glacier of ego
The eternal light of quest
The ephemeral radiance of conquest
The song of nightingale that bears
The emotional tones of wanderers
Ah yes, the revolution of madness
The waterless shore of enchantress
The muteness of fearful assenter
The repeating yells of dissenter
The mystery that keeps me awake
Toppling my rational mind's take
Ah yes, the revealed shapes in a dress
The humps and bumps that impress
The costly curves that make men wonder
What awaits them should they blunder
The scarlet feathers of women
The cerulean plumage of men
Ah yes, the auspicious blade of master
The hopeless craft of impostor
The synonyms that make life boring
The antonyms that make it alluring
The clandestine ring of vice
Constructing the castle of mice
The seductive sway of felines
Obstructing the advance of lines
Ah yes, it is the silence that leads
Leaving noise in the backseat of deeds
Never go beyond your natural degree
For the road is not as clear as you see.

My imagination is crazy wild
Wilder than Poe's poems and stories
Wilder than Nature's fury
Nothing seems impossible to construct
In its enchanting forge of creation
My imagination climbs
Wherever logic crawls
Sometimes I knock on its door
When I cannot get off the floor
Sometimes it pulls me in
Like a maniac magnet
For it misses my playful madness
When I'm fit squarely on its wheel
It thrills me to visit the hills
The hills of visionary transportation
Where my senses get satisfied
Through dreamy flights
To supernatural heights
Where self is no longer itself
But a pair of variegated wings
Soaring the sky of bliss
Whoever or whatever created mankind
Perfectly knew in advance
That without imagination
Human race wouldn't be able to survive.

It must have been yellow
But I saw blue
A trick of mind, of eyes perhaps
A chest of treasure my heart recalled
But my mind saw the sea
My eyes caught sight of hyacinth
My days are filled with doubts
Leading me to walls of auspicious delay
Friends of sky safeguard my freedom
Silver mysteries kick-start my rhythm
Where to go, what to do
I do not know till the moment arrives
I'm an archer in the midst of targets
But I wouldn't shoot without bets
Apples, oranges, strawberries
Make unconventional wines
Blue jays, cardinals, hawks
Carriers of lofty signs
My mistakes are breaks
Among fast-moving flock of exactitude
My horse is wary of the right roads
Afraid of skidding across the courts
Whose lips should I read
And how should I read them
Manners hidden between the lips?
Tenseness, directness, amusement
Or just pure nonsense
I will not be correct in my solution
For the lips are moved
By unseen masters
Controlling the moment's evolution
Sureness, Sureness you are a fraud
Authenticating my display of doubt.

How did the first poet come about
Which feathered friend
Unlatched his tongue
Pitching his wits to sky of views
To detect fire of flowers
To discern the link of above and below
To reflect on drift of words
To visit invisible nations
To conceal his creative nucleus.

Before the transformation
He must have been an ordinary man
With sleepy ears and shrouded eyes
Mundane like the face of afternoon
Whether by chance or divine decree
He was crowned by feathers of Simurgh
And given a plot of sky to wander
To sing of morning and of night
To sing of colors, of trees, of flight of birds
Of taste of wine, of berries, of hazelnut
To sing of wings of life
To relieve the pain of confinement
To reveal the crack of cage
To become paragon of originality
To settle in heaven of finesse
And brandish hell at the oppressor.

I watch the waves
Wondering which one carries me away
To the land of legendary race
The place of solitary braves
Of spellbinding beauty
Of paradisiac height
Waves that carry me away
To the span of nightingale's lay
To the afterlife of stars
We are but rabbits running unaware
In the forests and meadows of years
Confused by the scheme of stay
Enduring the magnets of Fate
The stairway of needs
They fight over petty things
She refuses to be quenched
He draws back inch by inch
The evening stretches its arms
Tolling the bells of light
Scooting over for twilight
Darkness hides the mighty Sun
Trailing the mysteries of moonlight
Did our fathers know about the divorce
The separation of Love and Force
Their involution in Devil's course
Original Sin is the doctrine of religion
Controlling pulse of partridge and pigeon
I swim upstream, move against the wind
Taking refuge in impossible dreams
Hoping to unearth the magic of wings.

Flying over the ethereal sea
Angels covet her remedial breeze
She lies within shaping the without
With toolbox of creation at her side, she
Tranquilizes, harmonizes, mesmerizes
Machination, witchcraft, control
Have no chance against her simple dance
With universal ears and eyes of Nature
She spots the afflicted hearts
Where celestial surgeon begins operation
Animals see her invisible presence
Birds champion her indivisible sense
Be not coy to sample her nectar
For she is off to her paradise
When pains been lifted
And troubles been evicted.

Rampant lies are skin-deep
Steering the unwitting herd
Bridled truths pierce the bone
Sparking marrow's bird
Shadows fade in the sea of look
Surfing the backdoor brook
Light cries in the dead of night
Lamenting the absence of height
The dual bond conceals parity
Fanning the flames of insanity
The lonely man cries for love
Seaching for meadows of dove
The lone woman dreams of a king
Waiting for the diamond ring
The Earth rolls with double intent
Keeping us in circular fusion
The Moon rotates with triple end
Sympathizing with our confusion
A star fastens my gaze
Stimulating my fancy
In astronomical ways
The heavenly fire plays
With my sense of relevancy
The magical dance craves
For a companion who deserves
The steps of divination
To waltz in halls of revelation
The scientist is lost
In the storm of data's decay
Riggling through the rust
Contemplating the costly delay
The teacher, eager to transfer knowledge
Proposes the learned page
Unaware of the winding thread
Leading to questions unheard
The father promises to play
The mother carries the weight of day
The children weary of their chores
Daydream of magical doors
Am I the deputy of Satan
Or the sheriff of God
They both seem to raise my curtain
They're both anticipating my nod
What should I do without their wraith
Polarizing my life's story
I shall put my unwavering faith
In elements of Nature's fury
What I have said in black and white
May not appeal to color of your thought
And that is fine for such is my song
My right to sing the way I belong.

I walk the evening streets
Familiar, impartial yet distant
I overtake the blocks
Waiting for silky thoughts
That may compel my heart
To intensify my freedom
Streets give meaning
To stores, shops and stalls
To lamp posts, signs and traffic lights
Where would they be without streets
A sense of observation tickles my spine
I stop walking and sit on a bench
What to observe I say to myself
How about that woman wearing a shawl
Window shopping with hankering eyes
Or that little boy jumping around
Agitating the passers-by
Between the curves of the woman
And the unbridled energy of the youth
I get confused
Which one would boost my freedom
Then my attention is diverted
Toward a quiet mutt
Observing with knowing eyes
Affording me a sly glance
I get up and start to walk again
Only to stop at a pastry shop
The smell is enticing
Inviting me to go in and get
Some marmalade, toast and tea
But the fire is overwhelming
The fire of freedom
Imploding my intent to smithereens
Sapping the joy out of my desire
After all the turns and twists of evening
After the delays and distractions
How should I maintain my traction
I shall walk and walk and walk
Till my mind loses gravity
Till I no longer carry the freight
Of thoughts, stories and traits
Then can I say
I have rendered the evening obsolete
Lifted its veil and tossed it
Over the stretch of streets
Then can I say I am free.

I'm beyond hills and mountains
Beyond shell-ridden shores
I'm Beyond the daily deal
Beyond the vitals of the will
I'm Beyond science and credibility
Beyond poetry and everyday sanity
I'm beyond law and order
Beyond regulating doors
My heart craves for
The sugar of humanity
Desires, dreams and aims
Cannot hold me back
From the flames of supernal track
I'm in the academy of Nature
Learning the lessons of future:
The winds of evolution
The colors of illusion
Stream of solitude is my teacher
Tenor of spirit, my preacher
My ship is at the sea of emotion
Plowing the waters of revolution
This journey of mine
Will never be outmoded
For the battle remains
Where compassion is corroded.

Follow us naked Moon
Follow us to the North
Where your soft light
Be caressing pinnacle of pain
Be easing sun beaten breast
Or to the South to redeem our sins
Bestowed upon us by our fathers
Sins rooted deeply in our purpose
Naked Moon your silver spears
Don't care much for East and West
A routine you been ditching inch by inch
So we just move up and down
Like a yo-yo played by Sun
We shall play the role of a pawn
Plotting ways to become a queen
To break the insensible System
And protect the King of dreams
Naked Moon you are a globe of salt
A cobalt of crystallinity
Orbiting in a near perfect circle
Give us a portion of your dark stuff
Give us our daily doubt
Enrich our curious character
Give us the magic we deserve
Follow us to the end of curve
Leading us from behind
Protecting our impressionable minds.

Tonight I write down my sadness
With lines echoing your memory
The silent cloud bursts into tears
As if it knew my sorrow
I used to be your cloud
Wandering the sky of your heart
You were my best friend
And at times upon your sensitive frame
I poured down my rain
In faithful drops of feeling
Other times I would unload my devotion
With generous caress of kisses
Upon your stoic countenance
My soul is sad
And will stay sad
Till I rediscover
Your magnetic might
Till I rediscover
Your charming light
Wherever you are
Whatever you doing
In the afterlife
Know that your son
Will never eschew
Such paragon of virtue.

Transcending the burden of breast
The Heart flexes its fire
Igniting the primal engine
With a sibylline blaze
Pistons of arcane knowledge
Nestled in cylinders of inner self
Pumping juices of rare reality
Into climate of cranium
Potentializing the Psyche
Eclipsing cerebral light of identity
Emotions flow in radical form
Corking up Ego's roar
To lay out a mechanized equilibrium
Where the Self participates
In supernal dance
And rewrites the purpose of existence.

Daystar you are too faraway
From my space
Stir up your stellar core
And with a magnetic shift
Bypass the laws of Universe
And come closer to my heat
To give me a lift of spirit
You are not deaf, nor dumb, nor mute
Contrary to unpoetic attitude
Pay heed to a creature of your dust
To my unwavering trust
In your revolutionary engine
I empathize with your concerns
Of descending the cosmic ladder
When your rays may stunt matter
Or leaving your galaxy in a tide
Where other stars may go wild
Or flat out incinerate our joints
Which form euphoric feelings
Appreciating your altitude
But if you do a magic trick
Displacing the Space with a kick
Easing the Time with a wink
You be in my vicinity
And I can breathe your air of divinity
Then together we shall impress
The fixed flocks of Universe
With your range of wondrous powers
And my share of creative hours
We will transform your System
Into a celestial Dance Hall
Where Mercury and Venus
Be breakdancing
Earth and Moon be waltzing
Jupiter and Mars shall tango
Saturn and Uranus would mambo
Pluto and Neptune be tap dancing
My beloved Sun do you think
I'm overly imaginative
Or just plumb crazy
Let me know
By sending a ray of fancy kiss
Or a ray of fiery blessing.

And the minutes go by
So the hours, days and years
The position that once stood so firm
Has expanded into exploration
The daily chores and mores
With bitter or sweet stories
Bind me still to this day
The habit of waking up time after time
Either at daylight or approach of night
And facing the identity of times
The pressure of working slow or hard
Within an established web of might
Which clings like leaves
To the branches of Time
The relations that hooded my selfhood
The directions that booted me
Into realm of rotations
Keeping me circling the same dimension
The brushing of teeth, the shaving
The haircutting, the nail clipping
The eating, drinking, garbage dumping
And many other typical decisions
Hinting at the peace of indecision
And by now you might have guessed
My oasis is repetition's rest.

There is no insight
In illusion of stories
Beclouding your universal mind
Machination excavates
The earth of character
Breaching tenor of vision
The burning candle weeps
Tears of unfulfilled sapience
In the stillness of night
The fabrication of perception
Disempowers awareness
Compromising clarity
It was yesterday
When roads were unpaved
The spirits untamed
Wise ones were held in high regard
The birds displayed the way
And the Earth rolled unfazed
But today
Today is the face of tomorrow
Promoting future's paradise
And demoting present's purview
Today is the remnant of yesterday's joy
And the prelude to tomorrow's ploy.

My earthly desires dwindling day by day
I only fancy food, rest, light exercise
And some simple amusement such as
Writing poetry and listening to music
That are necessary for staying aware.

How time flies I have yet to comprehend
Unimaginable how years
Are packed into days
And diligence of days
Forgotten in a flash.

Luckily I still have all my senses intact
And can't complain about health issues
Nevertheless, I won't attempt to take
Flight of stairs for more than two floors
If I don't have to for I get winded
Due to a lifetime of smoking
As for walking, I can do a mile each day
Which enhances my thought process
And I am grateful for that
I do not wish to reach a stage
When others need to take care of me
If there are any "others" of course
And willing to do so.

I have lived my life one day at a time
More precisely, moment to moment
My philosophy of life dwells in the Now
Never has gone beyond it and never will
Such is the order of spiritual reasoning
Keeping one eye on life, one eye on death.

I have a penetrative mind  
Soaring beyond the clouds
Telepathizing with birds
Acknowledging their flair
They keep me company
These paradigms of elegance
I have learned a lot from them
Through unspoken words
I am just a secretary taking down
Their inspiring instructions
Which may lead to a type of poetry
Hopefully enjoyed by others
I hope I can do this for as long
And as far as possible
Because nowadays at my age
Anything can go wrong at any time
This is the struggle one has to deal with
When getting old.

I am forever lost
Lost in nuances of Nature
Lost in mysteries of Life
What does it mean to be conscious
When molecules mold
Fabrics of reality in the Universe
Manufacturing cloaked consciousness
The order of things, is a magic show
And the magician, network of duality
How do I find my portrait
In galactic Images of matter
How do I decipher my existence
In obscured manners of anti-matter
I am lost forever
In the absence of answers
Climbing a ******* mountain
My emotions inhale rapid fire
And extinguished wrath they exhale
When will I hurl my perception
To a wrecking ball called disinformation
In a world fraught with temptation.

Pretty lie or uncomfortable truth
Which one shines brighter than the Moon
In a world fraught with saps and crooks

The throne entangled with scandal
The saber of law mishandled
The crowd, manufactured with handle

Political hacks and religious nuts
Bewitched by the fantasy of mission
Prolong their flaws to perdition

Where there is pain there is thinker
Where there is rhyme there is singer
Where there is honey there is stinger

Off to dream road so she walked
Images of Heaven she merrily sought
Wondering what will be her lane's lot

In the stillness of night he pondered
Why must he be so encumbered
When delightful dreams are conquered

I may be this and I may be that
But I'm certain I'm never last
Never first and never pressed

Cornerstones of celestial bodies:
Rhythm, Rotation, Speed, Gravity
Delineating the Depths of Reality

Embroidery fabrics in Time and Space:
Black holes, dark matter, dark energy
Quasars and all seven types of stars
Planets, moons, asteroids, comets
Created to plot the edgeless tapestry
Of the mystifying Universe.

To whom or what should I pray
The weight of not praying
Is weighing down on me
My parents prayed regularly
God bless their souls
Throughout my entire life
I prayed only a couple of times
Both times to some shining stars
That aligned my heart toward prayer
Through the magic of their twinkle
I once heard someone say
Prayer is best when unanswered
There must be a force behind prayer
Because it exists in every culture
How did it get there remains a mystery
Although some people go wild in prayers
I believe an isolated prayer
Here and there is a healthy thing
Especially, when it is inspired
By someone or something
As in my case by the stars
Needless to say that mine were answered
So why don't I pray more
Well, maybe because I'm not inspired
Or even if I am, I feel shy even guilty
To ask for things when others
Having a hard time fulfilling basic needs
Such as hunger and a roof over head.

Societal dependency
A disease disguised as validation
Ruling out subjective truths
The indifferent Universe
Testament for choosing
An autonomous path
Being in the dark, is not a valid answer
For exploration of one's might
One may suffer incessantly
In order to lift the doors
One can never reach the zenith
By succumbing to the norms.

The silent star gazing back at me
Revealing the planted darkness
Creeping up my mind
But when did it get there
Certainly not at birth.

Toward Left or toward Right
Each with advantages and disadvantages
Canceling out the ultimate reward
Of coalescing with Creation
Hence, what must one do
To rise above the mist of understanding
The key lies in the fist of defiance.

I am a rebel with a cause
Forging ahead with the enlightenment
Of conforming crowds.

Whenever I fell in love
With a receptive woman
She went away
Leaving me grieving
The death of chance
Till another woman came along
Making me hopeful for a while
And then she was no more
I kept up with the pull and push
Of this story till it was too late
To keep up with the intention
And I learned that falling in love
Was but a charming illusion
But a mirage of oasis
And the most beautiful lie.

Calm down my heart
You have fought many fights
And won almost all
No more shall you be encouraged
To fight others' arguments
You have proven your warriorship
To war birds above
No more should you battle
No more should you be in the middle
Fighting for justness and honesty
This world shall never be entirely right
So rest and enjoy your remaining days
With the magic of your soft side
The side that can make a horse
Whinny with pride
The side that birds vie to possess
The side of forbearance and virtuous vibe
You were tossed into valley of shadows
And came out in one piece
Yes my heart you've earned your feathers
You were never afraid of dying of death
And at times in solitude
You sought quietus
My beloved heart
You were thrown into madness
To be trampled on to be subdued
But your resolute rebellion
Saved me from caving in
From giving up my free spirit
Now my heart you deserve quietude
Your peaceful time is on the horizon
Bask in the spirit of Sun
Settle in the silver of moonlight
And explore the skies
Of impossible dreams

Many doggedly believe there is one God
Ruling as a divine singular entity
Stamped with omnipresence
Omniscience and omnipotence
Agnostics take the safe route rather than
Shouldering such unclear creed
Atheists do away with
The existence of God altogether
And there are others who put
God's adversary on a pedestal.
It wouldn't be off base to say
Their views are self-satisfying
That they pick and choose according
To the depths of their understanding
Of course external means have a hand
In forming their ideas that may
Or may not transmute over time.

Nobody can confidently establish
The existence or non-existence of God
Whether it is all good or not so good
In terms of actions and directions
But the crux of the matter is:
Some force must represent the good in us
It might as well be God, the Almighty
The Creator, Allah, Father or any other
Handles that we may come up with
To exemplify goodness for mankind's
Perception of Devil is not all favorable.

God's spirit can be omnipresent
Only if it is residing in everything
And if that is the case, it stands to reason
That such spirit be omniscient as well
For it can sense what you and I
And other life forms are aware of
So its omniscience could be a package
Of ongoing knowledge so to speak
God's spirit can be all-powerful
Only if the entirety of human beings Resolutely believe in its omnipotence
Which is another way of saying
Fear of God begets good behavior.

Is it not wise and practical to pull God
Out of the grips of religion
Out of the clutches of theologians bent
On furthering their versions of theism
And isn't altogether safe to do away
With God as peak of authority
Perched high upon the clouds
Prepared to punish or to reward.

God's spirit can be thought of
As the epitome of collective goodness
An instrument for thwarting evil deeds
Good spirits do not give orders nor do
Intimidate and nor do misguide
They deal in uprooting mental weeds
Which disturb the thought process
As well as blurring the vision
An amazing feat sustaining flow of creed.

God's spirit or the existing goodness
In the world, serves as a shining beacon
Waiting to bring home
The vessels lost in the mist of pessimism.

Guardrail of goodness goes far and wide
Even in territories suspect
Curtailing the range of danger
And evil's prospect.

Of course bad things happen
To good people all the time
Nature's calamities and Fate's tragedies
Cannot be mastered neither can
The atrocities of unrefined minds
But the important thing is
The sustenance of goodness
For without it
Our world would sink into Hadean abyss.

To survive simply means to prolong life
And for what?
God's plan or the Devil's program.

I survived many plights
Many traps I escaped from
Though I didn't know why
Was I supposed to be doing God's work?
Or was it the Devil's device
That kept me alive?
I might have been acting on instinct
Or doing the bidding of some
Unseen force interested in my survival.

I can honestly say
That I'm liable for misfortunes
Arising out of my continuity...
Why couldn't I just be laid to rest
And avoid all displeasing circumstances?
Well, such is the way of the world
One is totally unaware
Of creation's objectives
Though some may argue that the purpose
Is the flow of all living things
If so, then how do they justify
The extinction of certain species
And what about a useful tradition,
Belief or culture no longer extant
They did not possess life but
Certainly gave rise to a way of living
Others may say the intention
Is to live a long life
To reach a ripe old age
Which effects expansive experience
All the same, old age presents
Many complications
Not worth putting up with
Besides, so many young ones
Experience the butcher's knife
Through no fault of their own.

It is a given that some are born
Luckier than others
And the ratio favors the unlucky ones
Some of whom fall short of surviving
Despite their earnest efforts.

Oh, the agitation of survival.

I can straight out say that I'm a survivor
That I have passed the test of evil
And to what end:
Desertion of beauty
Exclusion of excellence
And the application of chicanery.

My life has mostly been
Foolhardy and footloose
I hardly ever follow man-made rules
How to experience Elysium's ray
When felonious fools
Govern the pulse of day

Life's waves are packed in a whim
Or waltzing rocket of a fantastic dream
Life spills art into potter's clay
Or the canvas making the painter's day

Life's wagon is steered by fact and fiction
Conveying mysteries and mores
Who knows of tomorrow's scores
When today's order ends in suspicion

Life may be a heavenly enclosure
Rolling round the belt of blessing
Or a dungeon dull and depressing
Illuminating the dooming share

Life of a bird, an animal or a plant
To Nature's beauty lends a hand
Whereas humans commonly defile
Mother Nature's artistic style

Life could be a balloon ride peaceful
Or a runaway ideology generating war
Life tailors tragedy purposeful
Or fashions fortune going far

The looks of Life
Are numerous to fully mention
Besides, I'm not wise
To the entire dimension.

Where I come from
Is still a mystery to me
By "I" I mean my essence of course
And not the flesh
For flesh comes from another flesh
Going back all the way
To the Neanderthal human and beyond.

It is difficult for me to pinpoint
The origin of my whereabouts
I have only notions here and there
Which are only self-satisfying
And do not observe logic
Or scientific principles
However, logic and science
Are not quite mature as yet.

When I give free rein
To the drift of my thoughts
Letting them be carried here and there
In the sky of identity
I could come up
With a host of possibilities
Each more visionary than the other:
I could be the offspring
Of the Man on the Moon
I may be a bundle of dazzling photons
From Sirius for others think
I have a brilliant mind
My fire may have originated
From the bowels of a mountain
Due to my spiritual strength
And rebellious nature
I could be Nietzsche's Overman
Transmitting Zarathustra's ideals
I see myself as egg of freedom at times
Hatched by Archaeopteryx
I may be Mother Nature's anti- hero
Come to set things aright
I might as well be Pax's posterity
Setting back the circus of Life
My core may have come
Solely from Mother Earth
Or come from an alien nation
Beyond the Milky Way
My nature may have erupted like lava
Out of a falling meteor
Sometimes I get the notion
That I have come from a magical sphere
Promoting the *******
Of some sorcerer's scheme
I might be all of the above
A votary of Universe's infinite philosophy.

Colors of origin cannot be painted
In black and white
Despite Night's image
And diligence of Daylight.

Only you are more beautiful than you
Thousand flowers can't beat your bloom
You are a mystifying marvel soft as down
An awakening airing the gift of dawn
Gods must have been high or highly fine
To fashion something incredibly divine.

With lips of rosy gold and emerald eyes
With dusky hair and shapely eyebrows
With sonsy face and alabaster skin
With chisled nose and voice of serene
You are the lone star in the sky of mortals
Shining with fantastic materials
Your flaming aura captures vanity
Topping the height of urbanity.

You are a work of humanizing art
That keeps your mind open
And enriches your heart
Your spirit wanders like the breeze
Spreading the wonders of your kiss
They would lay silver, gold
And diamond at your feet
To inhale the fragrance of your heat.

When twilight settles and shadows rise
To assail the magic of your eyes
Your guardian dragon spews ancient fires
Extinguishing all iniquitous desires
For you are the epitome of natural glory
Portraying Love's genuine story.

Hens scampering in the village of Parma
Appeasing the rooster's pride

An acre of corn nestling
The soft serving Earth

Some light years away
The explosion of a star
Extends the reign of darkness

Kristina in her T-shirt
Looking at her **** in the mirror
Wondering how much firmer they get
She is nineteen years old
And wants to become an artist
But her mother has other ideas

The clock chimes the midnight hour
And Tom is sitting in the dark
Debating whether to do it or not
Whether to dispel the itch or wallow in it
He is idyllic and knows nothing
Of politics, nothing of religion
And nothing of death

In the street corner
Harlots talk about tricks
Talk about positional preference
And talk about cunning
One day they are the masters
Of their worlds and the next
Objects of subjugation

A ****** of crows circle overhead
The pitch of their cawing growing

The clergyman wearing a purple robe
Pays tribute to ****** Mary
He is positive that his moralizing sermon
Would enlarge his drove of disciples
His submission to the Cross
Is double-edged: one about God's work
And the other about mammon

An osprey swoops down
And catches a trout

Silver and gold are bought and sold
In the marketplace
Asteroids surge through
The incalculable Space
Time effects and erases
Prospects of understanding

Mason is an obscure poet
He admires Rilke's philosophy of writing
Even though he is well educated
In aesthetics of language
His own poetry verges on insanity
He says: either mad or dead

The General brushes his mustache
He is about to give a farewell speech
To his subordinates
He is not going to ignite them
With bravery or his achievements
Instead, he is going to stab their spirits
What do they know
These fancy pants of generalship

The lioness fails to make a ****
Oh, but there is another prey

The Heart aches for peace
For eternal release from the binds of
Temporal tricks
The Mind, whether a master or slave
Miscalculates the essential needs
And the Body, sanctuary of soul,
Craves for food, ***, rest and breeding

Czeslaw Milosz would have been
The President of the World
Joseph Brodsky:
His Secretary of Independence
Robert Frost:
His Secretary of Freedom
William Butler Yeats:
His Secretary of Peace
Pablo Neruda:
His Secretary of Pleasure
Only if Fate had been kind enough.

One cannot perceptively
And comprehensively write about death
And the obvious reason is
One is alive when doing it
Death remains an idea
For as long as breathing exists
And ideas are as innumerable
As the grains of sand
Even when individuals,
Preferably adroit writers or good poets,
Who have undergone
Near-death experiences
Can't fully set forth the ins and outs
Of death because they were not
Privy to the total experience.

The fact remains that we must all die
And be done away with our ****** forms
And transcend the physical world
And where our souls go is up for debate
They surely go somewhere to become
Part of an incomprehensible whole
And whether we come back to Earth
Or remain out there, is another subject
Giving rise to theories or assumptions.

Death is favored by the ones
Tethered with terminal illnesses
Unwavering cruelties, emotional agonies
And a host of other circumstances
Involving the parameters of evil
So contrary to the popular belief
Death can be gratifying even magical
And I would go as far as saying
That death is a cure a panpharmacon
For implacable sufferings stemming
From the imperfections of this world.

I do not have a preference for where I go
After I die as long as it is not
A place described by world religions
Other than that, the road to
Indistinct reality is wide open for me
My spirit maybe zapped
To a poetic paradise
Due to the curse of being a poet
Then again, I may end up in Dante's
Inferno which wouldn't surprise me
For I have not been a very good
And upright man in my affairs
I wanted to be decent and virtuous
But I couldn't, I couldn't because
The world around me wouldn't allow it
Despite all my efforts
To disentangle myself from its reality
That wrapped itself around me
Like a vise grip
I'm a human, weak and unpossessing
Of iron strength after all
So I surrendered to pressure
And entered the turf of temptation.

I am nothing but a speck of light
Striving to examine the dark
The spell that I cast
Upon terrains and waters alike
Spread the legacy of my spirit's mark
In my dreams I see sanctuary of joy
In waking hours, only a ray of hope.

Father of all fathers Lord of the Universe
Are you alone or have companions
My feelings lead me to believe
That you are solitary
But my reasoning says otherwise
My reason and emotion
Lock horns most of the time
Is this where madness come from?

I only possess a modest strength
So I turn to imagination for uplift
I imagine of flowing
Toward the center of Universe
If such thing ever exists
I imagine of being a star
In the deepest dark
Glowing with everlasting equanimity
Which soothes the rebel in my heart
I dream of me wandering like the breeze
Hoping to strike the meadows
Of undisturbed peace
Where humanity blossoms.

I'm free of hate but fighting
With reasons of fate
I'm free of chain yet faced with
Seasons of pain
Shadows that surround me in despair
Are too many to defy
So I listen and absorb the craft
Which renders me exposed
But the hopes of Hope lie in the loop
For no minutes and seconds shall pass
Without terminating the past.

After all the fleeting years
I'm here breathing still
And nothing to show for
Except the strength of my faith
Embracing the unearthly temple
Of spiritual fire.

Poetry is a gateway to salvation
Where day is subjugated
And darkness reigns
Where dying drains
And spirituality, illuminated.

Tongue is derived
From striking feel
Fusion of words
Portray the deal.

Poets whether inferior
Good or great
Unload the gratifying freight.

A loving touch of a lion
The spark of a smile
A sudden burst of laughter
The paintings in sky
A lone traveller
Bound to nowhere
The drizzling of autumn rain
Stillness, flow
Detachment, devotion
Testament to poetry's motion.

What songs should we sing
In praise of sunshine and
Magic of moonlight
In praise of Nature's beauty
And Animal Kingdom
In praise of solitude
And matrimony
For speech alone
Cannot be captivating
We need Music and Poetry
The twins of creation's kindness
The reasons for hope and peace.

Poetry fuels the fire of fairness
Preserving humanity in life.

Colored clouds furnished the sky
Pink, yellow, orange and white
Imparting mystic images
Stimulating the view
The messages my heart decoded
To be from fire eroded
The gods and goddesses of yore
Rejuvenating my calor
The caress of passing breeze
Seemed no longer mundane
Flock of birds wafting above
Deity formation in disguise
The rays of Sun a rapid river
Flowing into ocean of air
In high plains i heard a whisper
Soothing my wounded crown,
Inebriating my spirit
Such calmness i had never felt
Such state far beyond pain
As the moments began to last
Intensifying my soul's goal
Time admonished the Earth to roll
And diminish the light fast
Where day endured becoming past.

A thing of beauty
Is a joy forever
Don't trade hues of paradise
With dyes of duty.

Life is lavender and garnet
Or is it green and white
It could be what one sees
In spite of the obvious.

No calla lily grows in sky
Be it black or blue
Yet both views can inspire
Beauty's bloom.

Deep into the turns of being
The stranger rides with masks
Carting the curve of rainbow
Over enchanted tracks.

Gonna keep away for few days
From the eyes of entire town
From the lies and outcries
And the depressing vibes
Wanna go and be earth's companion
Be friend of rain's fragrance
And out of the purity of wellspring
Inhale a new impression
Gonna leave my soul
In the hands of wind for a while
Gonna give a bracing hello
To the Sun and get past
These ill-lit days
I need to feel Nature's truths
And be bathed by its variety
I'm tired of all repetitions
Tired of all smoke and iron
I feel breathless in open air
And need a little window
A little change of construct.

Love is a cloud
Roaming the sky of dreams
When it rains
Originates flowers of passion
Driven by solar carriage
Fueled by Moon's grace.

No climate can stop the season
Take it easy and enjoy the breeze
The stimulating drizzle
Validating your rhythm.

Years don't make wisdom
They just make old age
Generations have passed
Through the turned pages
Yet I'm no wiser
Than credulous kid of past
Who charged everything to heart
Whiling away the hours
No, the years don't make wisdom
They decelerate celerity of youth
Compromising clarity of Love
Years are but bricks building walls
Between factual and imagined calls
Between relations of understanding.

Our house is far away
Beyond barren deserts
Behind unexcitable mountains
Where golden meadows thrive
Our house is other side of sorrow
Other side of restless waves
It's behind cypress forests
It is in dreams, in sleeps
Near that sacred garden
Past pear orchards and vineyards
Our house is beyond the clouds
Other side of hopeless pains
At the end of moistened roads
Behind the rain behind the sea
Our house is rich in story
Tales of sour cherry and mulberry
Our house is amidst
Assuring laughters
Full of drowsy souls
It has ponds with patient fishes
Alleys with coquettish cats
Our house is warm and sincere
Old pictures hanging on the walls
Picture of paradise on the veranda
Picture of shoreline in summer
Picture of that day under the rain
Eyes full of tears and a suitcase
Leaving loved ones behind
Leaving kindness behind
Our house is far away
Hidden from world's despair.

God's winter is cold
Making my earth a ball of ice
No loving person in this town
Big-ups to vagrant lover
Kudos to highwayman
I betrayed my pride again
Though nothing have i taken
I feel totally drunk and wasted
Oh God let her not say no
For i become more terrible
Than i already am
God's winter rolling
Oh how cold's the weather
I'm afraid that my sweetheart
Won't come back no more
My heart's no longer a heart
But a knot of pain
God see what she's done to me
I betrayed my pride again
Look what her love
Has handed my soul
Temper of a fighting fool
No tolerance in God's custom
My head is full of smoke
In the midst of freezing fate  
I got a fever from sorrow.

Keep me away from higher truths
Let me cope with mundane ones
Or reveal to me the highest truth

With an old secret
I sank into her endless eyes
Pondering over laws
That effected such marvel
And leased me to madness
Words were melting in my mouth
She, refraining her turn of phrase
A tear rolled down my cheek
Stirring passion's tongue
A tear rolled down hers
Wielding my soul ablaze
I rejoiced in silence
Lest i betray my confidence
She handled my eyes
Spotting my inference
I could no longer bear
The fruits of my fear
I leaned over and touched
Her sculptured nails tenderly
Freeing my emotion
She smiled coyly
Sealing my devotion.

Like myriad others
I was born crazy
A blessing bestowed
By Moon's grace
And a curse slotted
By Sun's paradise
I was born crazy
To take on two things
Shift for myself
Amid worldly plagues
And exhibit my perceptions
With opalescence of my dance
I was born crazy
In light of squares
There are not enough stars
That Darkness can't sway.

As transitory as breeze
Are the afflictions we encounter
Which will sabotage like termites
The integrity of our fabrics
If we try to despise them

Accept them wholeheartedly
And wrap them all in a bundle
With curtain of season
And let it float
In waters of survival

History is a basin of mistakes
Supporting the river of ultimacy
What that might be
Remains a mystery
Which gives credence to intimacy.

Of one essence in creation's mold
Our souls are organs
Of a cosmic whale
Swimming the ocean of Time
In search of destiny divine.

When an appendage
Is suffering in pain
Others must apprehensive remain
If some members show no pity
For another's afflictions
The appellation of Human
They can not retain.

I'm not a seasoned poet
As standards go
I have neither the will nor wit
To assemble words that exhale
Sensuous truths of beauty
I have been tossed in poetry's net
To serve and protect its fate
I'm not sharp enough
To detect Moon's climb
For I'm not Archibald MacLeish
I'm no master metaphorician
To equate yellow fog to a cat
For I'm not T.S. Eliot
I'm just here to release the waves
That load my pen to barrage
Their organic ammunition
I cannot delve into the dark show
As smooth as Edgar Allen Poe
I'm not one to sing of love, of wine
For I'm no Rumi nor Khayyam
I can't settle music's dust
For I'm not Robert Frost
I can only write what I'm taught
By the shadow rulers of Art
If Yeats is awake
And Shakespeare watching
If Whitman, Dickinson, Keats
And the rest of the sublime ones
Happen to be espying
They would regard me
As an underling
And that would be a win
For I shall never reach
Their poetic spin.