Black
Empty cans
No liquid evaporated
In the air full of pride
Polluted grains of soul
Lost their consistency
Pure fluids of light
Erupts as marshmallow bombs
Death squad penetrates deeply
Aiming to meet Anubis
A Tsunami whirled its wish
Passion and glutton declared independence
The dream of becoming a parallel nation
To co-habit with leukemia of creativity
A *** drive 4×4 retired
A crippled veteran of passion
Bags for the mercy of soulless utilitarian army of human entity
Better said plankton a ****-plankton of miserable creatures
Even worms and larva are disgusted by our hatred
*****, a skunk of fear
An eclipse of love that spans for ages
From birth to death
A spectrum displays its ripeness
******* liberty as blast
A dazzling dance of shaped and amoeboid forms of manifestation
Truth
Bitter the honey with suffer
Powder a chamomile with royal jelly and ginseng
All of sudden a wind blows
Spores of the old pines
White
The soul of parallel nation of Angeloid
Is striving pleasure of life?
Lives now
Perpetually woofs a rainbow muslin with
the divine light
Inter-woofed dress
Newborn immaculate fellows
Perfuming
Oh those smell of paradise
Mint, Neroli, Oakmoss, Amber
A bouquet of divine pleasure
And Acacia kissed by a queen bee
Yes the queen of Enneagram
Of course
The work produces sweet essences
Oh Sarmouni of our Millennia
Melt the cataract-ic lance so they may see the beauty
Heal the flu so they may smell fresh ozone
A charged circle of light and love
Overwhelm
Remove the pulp from the reed
So may divine tune perform light?
Tao
May be your torchbearer
In the dark valley and by then you may
see a spectrum
That encircles an infant fear
For an eternal life
Yet I kiss that that time sequence
Where Jin and Jang harmoniously co-habit
I a Feng Shui of Love
Defragmenter of hate’s files
Zipper of dark matrixes
Arranger
So you may know they do exists
So you try them in order to enjoy the sweetness
of life’s honey
In this porcelain valley
Where goodness and mischief
Hand in hand are gliding furiously
Alas pure the morning with dew of love
Oxidize hate with apple vinegar
Sing to celebrate both solstices and have a cup of vine
That swoon you
That filters all starry
Cells of brain and ganglia
Perfume her navel with rosewater and kiss, kiss, kiss
Do a divine Tantra
With all visible and invisible and semi-visible spirits
Kiss topaz of her eyes
Kiss ruby of her heart
Kiss diamond of her nail
Kiss cooper of her feet ankle
Kiss jade of her bones
Kiss sapphire of her cells
And a flame-y waterfall of hair
And a silky *****…
Oh…kiss and kiss and kiss whatever belongs to her
Make her a necklace
With your purest and noblest spermatozoids
Then call her as you wish
Wisdom, Hikkmah, Sophia
Or simply Goddess that makes you Angeloid.
—-
Arabic for wisdom, we disregard language we are concentrated
on substance on quint essence
Greek for wisdom

you can take that enneagram test
and find out what number you land on
as a grey attempt to know who you are

you can look in the mirror
and make faces till your cheeks hurt
and still not see yourself truly at all.

Someday, you may look in the mirror
and not recognize those eyes anymore
when did they dime? like hallow shapes?

then one day, your face shrivels up
you can hardly remember who you were before
and you look upon your child

you know one day, she will also look upon the mirror
lost upon herself
taking that enneagram test, as faithful as you once did,

Lately,
           I’ve been trying to
(how should I say it?)
       Fold the corners of my subconscious tremors
into creases, origami shapes
I’ve been bending the bracket
I’ve been trying to figure out
                 my Enneagram.

No one understands me.
This is something I am sure of.
They might think they have me figured
But they only see my acts.
My mind is a place uncharted,
What you find there weird and unknown.
My friends think they have me figured,
But they don't.
I don't want them to.
If I can't even figure myself out
Then how can they know me?
They know what I show them.
And what I show them is real.
But it isn't me in entirety.
Why do I enjoy the sense of mystery?
Why do I like being the outsider?
All people are unique.
But not all people are this deep.
When no one understands,
There is not to do but leave.
Once alone my mind may roam,
Free to wander in secret solitude.
There I find that once again,
I am alone in my path.
No one, no not one
Know what it is to be me.
I can't truly place it,
I don't know if I could should I try,
But deep down inside
Is a secret.
My friends don't know me,
My family doesn't either,
Not even I.
But there is one who sticks closer,
Closer than a brother or sister.
He knows my heart,
Where I only know confusion.
He saved me from myself,
His Name is Jesus.