I love you more than chocolate fudge
And even more than cheesecake.
Even more than the finest meal
A Cordon Bleu chef can make.
I love you more than Disneyland
More than my birthday celebration.
More then the most beautiful work
Of the very finest artist's creation.

I love you beyond the most distant star.
I love you best when we are together.
I love you always wherever you are.
And I am going to love you forever.

I love you more than a brand-new car.
So much more than fancy new shoes.
Multitudes more than a diamond ring.
I love you more than an ocean cruise.
Lucky is not a strong enough word;
More than fortunate is how I feel.
I love you so much my darling
That it seems almost beyond real.

I love you beyond the most distant star.
I love you best when we are together.
I love you always wherever you are.
And I am going to love you forever.

Like a magical romantic movie
Bells can ring and rainbows appear
And in the middle of it all will be me
Smiling widely from ear to ear.
This bit of my own poetry may be
Pie-eyed and even a bit sappy.
But I can find no other clearcut way
To say how much you make me happy.

I love you beyond the most distant star.
I love you best when we are together.
I love you always wherever you are.
And I am going to love you forever.

the sharp smell of fresh-logged pines bleeding pungent sap.

seconds before the fireflies
separate our field and sky,
between aluminum pillars of
sagging electric distance,
watercolors of the softest kind
settled beneath the line beyond my eyes.
a surrounding buzz of misplaced
effort, trickled a native sound
so gently into my ear.
bats dove deep, deeper,
disguised by nighttime tree line,
invading this field with me.
i paused, absorbed deep
the air of wonder.
so settled beneath the line beyond
were the colors i had forgot.
so filled with electric wonder.
we fell together as color unto the night
bats unto the deepest field,
so lost of all control,
inside the fading tree formed shapes,
where we lost our breath and pause
and forgot our wonder of
where our time had gone.

A pall of construction yellow and tarnished silver overwhelms -
forest green , wetted , life giving potential
She's forever the lady , forever a student of
charm , forever grace in harms way
A curtsey before the leviathans longing-
to destroy her* ...

The Stop & Shop strike v. Game of Thrones.
In Game what’s not made plain
is the condition of the people
compared with warriors and queens.
There’s no mention of land-clearance, tree-felling,
pruning, chopping, digging, hoeing,
weeding, branding, gelding, slaughtering,
salting, tanning, brewing, boiling,
smelting, forging, milling, thatching,
fencing and hurdle-making, hedging, road-mending and haulage.

As for the strike, most of us
supported the cashiers and clerks—
cutting benefits and pensions
when CEOs make millions.
A few pennies more
for ice cream and tofu
a leg up for our neighbors
and comrades in labor.
But don’t get greedy, power-hungry—
we don’t want the supermarket to go out of business
or the Army of the Dead to extinguish us.

A red-tailed hawk observes what small mammals, birds are in the
     clearcut,
awaits the moment to strike.
Three *****, two strikes, full count. Aaron pitched carefully, slow
     strikes and the opposing team scored.
Transit strike. Part-time tutor,
food deliverer, illegal immigrant,
school bus driver, supermarket bagger.
Let labor flow like capital! Full tank of gas!
In your dreams, you kick ***.
In your daydream, you’re breaking bones, killing mean dogs with bare
     hands .
In my childhood dreams, I fought side by side with my best buddies
against the Army of the Dead.
I wake up to a lightning strike and my dream incinerates.

The strike is over, like a thunderstorm.
Still a half dozen or so episodes of Thrones
before it sinks into the past.
Will women save the world?
Anything’s possible.
Nothing changes in Williamstown, Willie, except the seasons.
The wee hours, the bored minutes, the second guesses,
the town sewer department, the collector of taxes.
Pitcher’s elbow, runner’s knee, reader’s eye,
you live until you die.
That’s no answer.
Without the Mexican and Canadian borders
the White Walkers would dissolve like an aspirin in seltzer water.

The sun is up, the strike is over
next episode of Game is Sunday
the White Walkers attack
some of our favorite characters croak
but humanity survives
though the weather is ominous.
The habitable zone around the sun
is moving outward as the orb expands
getting hotter as it grows older.
Earth a billion years ago
was smack in the middle of the turf
but we’re now half-in, half-out
exposed to the sun’s ardor, agony,
a dragon eating its babies, torching cities.
We’re gonna hafta outsmart it
hold Labor Day barbecues on Mars.

i am
seen
clear through
yet never sure
-ever torn-
by what i see
in you

sliver in my eye
grow grow
into clearcut forest taken from the sky

observe
you can see all of me

i am bark turned
inside-out
my core yours

see me seen

and you?
the cool side of a moon
spooning the abyss after tangoed tryst

we are cosmoses
apart

there will never be a day when
you will say
that's the day i knew
i would always love you

because

othering opacity foreverfizz

The Aberdeen bus arrives, deposits and boards
the same people daily. One is the dark-haired
chambermaid at the tourist lodge, awkward
in her print dress and wearing a frown. Her
******* inspire and her long legs are
quintessence. The sun dispels moisture,

with fire-blackened face I lick a popsicle
after work and achieve a counterfactual
childhood. This is what the chambermaid’s scowl
is about, the frozen treat and smile of a grown
man. On a summer night what passions
would I find in her? We take our place in the pattern

of daily activity, pick-up trucks with crews
arriving and leaving, uniformed rangers narrow
in their imaginations. Two ravens fly low
over the clearcut like weather, in weather, there will
be weather. Felling trees in the forest, I look uphill.
The ravens float like hawks, nearly immobile.

1

Last night dinner
with four couples
points out the difficulties in living together
and apart.
                    Even the
son of a wealthy doctor, disdainful of
inebriates more artificial than the moon,
full, full of joy for humanity
and life
                 suffers deepening depressions
like the dark outside a lamplight.

It was a good restaurant
expensive but comfortable
in the alternate life-style way
the cook was a hairy
talented clown
and we clowned though beneath each
facade
was turmoil and decay.
                                           We lay
beside each other like bones
in a boneyard
and find joy (I do anyway)
in the bone dance
to bone music.
                                
2

Without a thought for slash fuel
or deer, the mist
deepens and deteriorates upon
the mountain. The mountain
completely unaware
of its greenness. The ice
is centuries old.

A red-tailed hawk
floats above the unit
observes what small mammals, birds
are in the clearcut

Awaits
the moment
to strike

or fades away almost
silent as the mist. I dream
of it, though I am awake
among my co-workers, the bullet
system zinging cut logs down
to the road, firewood.

3

Pardon
me you mountains
for coming to the edge
without mystical knowledge
or belief, only love and wrinkled
eyes for the women and men who
light the fires and wield the chain saws,
drive the cat, swing the ax, I

completely laugh among them like a god
yes, although my face is a mask of hate
and pain, what god does not come to this field
of flowers out of fear and confusion and chains
product of the hot anvil and hot engine
of human history.
                                                
This duality, these arm-breaking dualities
this volcanic eruption erupting from some
confluence of beheaded forces, one
powerful with eternity, one
blinding with intensity, meet
and in the middle is me

like a husband and wife fighting
like two dogs fighting but not biting hard
life bests my best synthesis of it
and I begin to pray, hard to believe
I kneel woefully and pray
for a happy combination
of sun and mist
and sometimes man’s destruction.

Found a stem
Growing from dry earth
Found a kiss
Among sand
And the promise
Of waiting lips
Could you define a broken soul
Pieced together with
super glue and
clear
tape
My love, my everything
I cried when
You smiled
I cried when
You chirped at me
With those eyelashes like
clearcut pine
Pine needles stick into
Our hand knitted blanket
While you kiss my ear
as we make love
I find you hairs in my clothing
And think about nothing but the scent
Of your sweat on my lip
And the feel of your tongue
On our teeth
Ours ours ours
Find me
Dreaming
The ones we shared
In a desert where you passed water to me
like a bird
Lips against mine
Not a word spoken
But the warmth of your breast
Against my heart
Made me believe in
life again

To hold on to those answers
that much
might mean
you embrace your differences
too much
in vain?
To hold on to these shoes
so much
might be
you walk your directions
too much
no avail!
To look at yourself
over & over
To listen to yourself
on & on
It became crystalclear
The things I did
not see
not hear             at first
Yet
It becomes unclouded
The things I do
need to
Left with your plain history
Build my cherished future

Powerful Holo
Please don't take me light my friend
And never ever try to insult or offend
I have my own style as well as my trend
First impression about me may not be end
I am passionate person with intuition
I carry along me my pronounced mission
I have my clearcut stance and position
When I take a position I never divert decision
I have a powerful and beautiful holo
My approach remains frank and solo
Being innovative I go for any nouveau
You will never ever be able to know in toto
My style attracts people around me
Don't take me a simple drop but sea
Being unpredictable what reult be
But I am a soldier in every word true
Colonel Muhammad Khalid Khan
Copyright Nov 2020 Love Remains