I write him in my sentences,
I write him in my diary.
I print him on pages,
I print him on stories.
I carve him on stones,
I carve him in designs.
I sketch him in my moans,
I sketch him in my mind.
I etch him in tattoo,
I etch him on woods.
I sculpt him in statues,
I sculpt him into the man he stood.
I inscribe him on ripples,
I inscribe him on the swirl of my wine.
I draw him in circles,
I just can draw the line.
I have watched mothers lose
their children, and children lose their mothers. I am tied
by my toes to a loop
which can be seen in cafes and morgues -
the breast-feeding, the burying, the everything is all
on a string. I have heard about
women and children thinking they are unlimited,
I am unlimited, too, if
the two ends of a circle never meet.
My lover once closed his heart off from everyone, and I
never understood until now
that you do not
have to open up in order to be full inside. I still can
water his flowers, even the weeds
and he never has to open his eyes to see and
he never has to open his heart
to feel. I understand that sometimes it is better to just be.
I will tell you not of our
Secret mangrove tenement,
Tunneled through the space
behind both of our eyes.
A place meant for whimsy
and bioluminescent fauna,
fawning faux sun light
out into obsidian night.
Nor will I tell of our
soul’s soft meridian,
served on the half shell
to both kind and prying
eyes, distant though
unarguably tied— ribbons
spun, fastened, dyed
For what end should I tell?
When your very presence is
And your very absence
is it the forest or the trees
where the real truth lies?
is it in elephant graveyards
where a true heart dies?
and how can sages ask
the wherefores and the whys?
there's only One who measures
the circumference of the skies.
Circumference of isolation
Is what I have placed myself in
I know where to begin
What is waiting at the end?
As the mind arcs
Fictitious thoughts brew
Skewing the reality through my lens
Then again, my thoughts are formed
By the reality, I placed myself in
Realizing the beginning
Is linear with the end
Reality blurred & blended
With condescendence circumference selfishly once said to spiral:
"You are ridiculous and useless curve, my popularity is viral!"
So you, the poet, in vanity, being only with talent of your own bound,
Believe that center of the world you are, and all the rest rotates around.
Heresy and faith walk hand in hand
As do life, death and understanding.
Circumference is the path of our being
From one end to the other, finish to start.
Light the fire with a match of curiosity,
Send the signal to the master of destinies.
Fill to the brim a hungry belly
With all the questions that are posed.
Then, and only then, may you listen,
And listen close you must,
'Ere you miss all of the solutions
Present at the ends of extended fingertips.
Shining stars have got light from You
and started twinkling
You have bestowed night with stars,
Morning with heavenly dawn,
Flowers with sweet smell,
Birds with alluring tweets
But when I saw my inner sight
I felt a jerk and attained a heavenly light
And felt a bliss
So after that moment
I am unable to see any thing except You
O' my Lord!
As there is nothing out side of Your circumference
in the universe.
Seep upon the illusion of vanity,
As your true morality contested.
While all things fall asunder,
None reach perfect atonement.
Such struggle is but divinity of being human,
The tested fallacy in full glory.
In those imperfection lies heart of human kind,
And ridged expectation flow with the wind,
For all things do come to an end.
That precious moments define us,
And our flaws prescribe to center of universe,
For night sky are basked by infinite wisdom.
All things are illumination of life,
And there are no regrets,
But lost ether alone amongst the serenity of celestial plane.
My life is spinning
Revolving faster than it looks
With memories that's circling through my mind
Those bad days I've experienced
In every circles it makes, it's more complicated
When you broke my heart like ice melting down
You didn't even try to listen to my voice
When I was telling you that it is not true
I was asking God for assistance
Praying hard for us to be together again
Doing all for that miracle to happen
But it kept telling that we are not destined
Today, I end this dumbness
In believing of something impossible
Letting this world in circles
Where my life revolves everyday until I die
A Coffin—is a small Domain,
Yet able to contain
A Citizen of Paradise
In it diminished Plane.
A Grave—is a restricted Breadth—
Yet ampler than the Sun—
And all the Seas He populates
And Lands He looks upon
To Him who on its small Repose
Bestows a single Friend—
Circumference without Relief—
Or Estimate—or End—