1.  Sit down and cry. Cry until you have no more tears and don’t even remember the reason for your sadness. Realize that nothing, not even misery, is permanent.

2. Close your eyes and imagine your dream home. Don’t skimp on anything, not even the tiniest details like the doorknob or the lampshade pattern. Keep it always so that whenever you are somewhere heartless and cruel, you have a retreat.

3. Discover a song you love. Listen to it as loud as possible, listen to it as softly as possible. Listen to it backwards, forewords, sideways, and upside down. Extract from it all the truth and magic you can until you’re sick of it. Repeat.

4. Try and realize who your real friends are. Not the ones who will smile at your jokes and laugh at their own, but the ones who will walk with you even in the darkest of nights and never have to reassure you that they’re there.

5. Cut your hair. Cut it as short as you can without making your mother cry. Recognize that when someone says they don’t like it, what they’re really saying is that your appearance is for their pleasure. Know that it is not.

6. Choose a day just to watch. Watch the wind whispering to the trees, the grass reaching for the sky, the clouds hanging on by a thread. Make eye-contact with the moon and see that everything is watching you back. They’re rooting for you.

7. Learn how to make your favorite food. Learn how to make it exactly like your mother does. And every time you taste those familiar flavors, know that home is wherever you are.

8. Draw yourself. Don’t look in a mirror while you do this, draw yourself as you truly think you are. When you’re finished, take a photo of yourself. Compare the two. Realize that how you perceive you and how the world sees you will always be different.

What steps he took, after losing his edge
Cocky **** running wild in days, never slept
Took drugs, took women, took men
Never slept again

What cliffs she admired, after seeing the edge
Tormented in fuzzy daydream childhood afternoons
She came down and stayed for days
An obsession with time to the point of stasis

I think I'm losing my edge
He thinks he's dead again
She lost the bed again

A faceless man was sat on a bench by the seafront
Hood high, said goodbye
Told me his missed the old style, wants more
Told him I was tired and this is whorish
What vines are these, that bound my ankles
and I was screaming into vacuums, grand clocks, strange houses
Safe houses that become embers
Magic men, shaman, shaggy hair, danced there

To use words in multiple places, placing clues
A whole story, absolute, read it backwards, forewords
iTunes shuffle function, on the poetry of the soul
(if it exists)
But he lost his edge again

Yes he went to Africa, saw the face of God and the Devil, unification
Iboga, uneasy stomach, vomited and killed them all
Watched the world burn, and children dance
Bluebell Lucy on arrival, back home
Taunted the skies, saved the proletariat
Grew wild roots and sang, some seraph

Admittedly not an architect, or a poet or *******
How many people have made these allusions
Sold drugs, killed men, ran home, all there, ghost of government
Hedgerows grew wild, were noticed and cut down
Still praise beatitude, Ginsberg, love-made, Kerouac, still plays

She was Hannah and she was Malcolm, also Marvin
He was them too, all the same, transcendental self-infatuation
Peach trees, coloured blinds, ashy scattered floorboards
Burnt home, music playing, popular culture
All free-form even with formality
A stream of conscious way of life
Outlook unsure

He thought he lost his edge
Turns out s/he never had it

Part I

Dan was a great example and a Christian
He went to Church every Sunday and uplifted the community with a great personality
But he had a secret he never wished he had to hide
He liked guys
No matter how much he tried to like Women
He went back to his old habits
He tried everything in the book to turn
But nothing had ever worked
So his future was a growing concern
After months and months on end without an answer
He decided he'd amount enough courage to come out to everyone
But he soon found out that the people hes known for years that always welcomed him with a wide smile were not turning their backs with an intense stare
And the people who were there for him before didn't really care
His parents refused to talk to him until he became straight
He couldn't handle all of this emotional weight
So he decided he'd do the world a favor and  end it late
At night
When they found out he'd killed himself
The community erupted with freight
They weeped and cried
They prayed and prayed
But nothing could bring him back.
Their minds not had the image of him in it everywhere they'd go
And now they know
Not to reject anyone in the future
As they realized they were the ones who committed the Sin.

Part II

Christina was the sweetest Christian girl to ever grace the earth
She never said a bad thing to say about anyone
And always stayed true to her word
She loved reading forewords
And was a great student in all of her classes.
She was loved by the masses
But as she grew up into a teenager
She realized that Boys didn't ignite her hart like Girls did
And she wanted to know if something was wrong with her
Worrying that she'd be sent to Hell despite all her goodness
For thinking about holding hands with another woman
She was constantly distraught
She couldn't keep her lovers away from her parents
Because she'd be caught
Red-handed.
She was trying to avoid being reprimanded
For being who she was
As the weeks dragged on
She couldn't take it anymore
Her all bad behavior in school greatly concerned hr parents
And they had no clue on what to do with her
She then admitted to her parents one night
After an intense argument
That she liked Girls instead of Boys
And she didn't feel ashamed of it
With her held up high and the confidence of a large statue
Her parents grew silent and stood there blankly for a moment
And up-roared in anger, insisting that she leaves the House
Screaming at her that she is going against God's will
And that she will be sent to Hell until she comes back
Admitting she was wrong and liked Boys
But that never moment never came.
Christina pursued her own life after many years of hard struggle and drugs, she finally found someone who was looking out for her the whole time.
After all the lost jobs, unpaid bills, and hospitalizations from binge drinking and drugs
She decided to end her frantic ways
When she realized her only friend's dismay
As she cried when she woke up from the Hospital bed the last time
Being hugged by the fact she was alive from it all
At that point, her heart grew tall
Registering the concept for the very first time
After that moment, Christina knew.
She asked her best friend to date her
And not too long afterwards, they were married.
Just like what Christina dreamed of in her teenage years, it was with a Girl.

5daysoferos
First of its kind

Hello gorgeous,
That was the forewords that created our story.
A 5 foot tall, Slim, curvy body walked into my life
Like a glowing petal that needs to be tendered.
Your simplicity awakes a troubled heart.
To urge for a taste of your soul.

As days turned into month
Our familiarity exiled our strangeness
Our expression aligned with our thoughts
To seek the action concluded in our thoughts.

On that memorable day,
As my lips engaged your soft lips,
Your silentness was a turn off,
As I moved back,
you locked me to a wall
Like a fight,
you flawlessly won

As I gently kiss your neck, towards your ***
You moan with such tenderness for more
As my hand is feeling the tiniest spot on your skin.
you pulled me into you,
At that moment,
Our spirit became one

As we drill in the ecstasy of love
The air seem still
The Cold weather, warm on us
As our bodies emit droplet of pleasure
Although  
The ever wanting sound of more
Was silenced by  an unknown vibration
Which ended our play.

Feel free to make corrections. I'm new to kind.

I called the ending to this story, you know.
After all, I am an author derived from you.
The love, then betrayal.  As if I wouldn’t understand it
All on my own.  So I knew what the last page said
Before you read it to me.  And you lied.
You pretend the hard covers keep in your secrets
And hide your past but now even I know better than to be fooled.  
Every movement you make flips the pages
Right back to where we started.  All over again.
Back to the beginning of this section until I know it by heart.  
And I raise the question, how do we end it?  
How do we begin to end it?  We get close with forewords
And bookmarks.  And even closer with anecdotes
And dedications.  But I need more.  No more action novels.  
No more thrillers, romance, sob stories or fantasies.
I need non-fiction.  Real words.  Real feelings.
Real people.

Signed,
The Daughter You’re Losing

Again?

Little bits of paper set little boys and girls awake. Paper is the voice, it is the rush, and it plays against the spirit of the rough. Some had hands in favor, some made famous from their toils. Across the bridges, into harm, extreme liking finds a way to plant their dreams. A courageous haunt for storytellers fashioning fictitious love in the vocals of these pleasure scenes.

A gasp at poison sells us. Two legs is all it took- the fanciest of the 399 lives, stitched across the faces of all his slaves. Some hide behind the moon, in the shadow of its glow. Some depart him, only to remark, and take up the King James Bible in a fight to eradicate some half-lie half-truth tale. Some take up their histories. Some track down their accusers. Some just watch the show.

If ever was a prophet, material or fake. A flip of the light switch rewinds the days, while a new trial of words ghastly fails. If ever was a wind to whip the rocking torments of joy into a smooth flowing dressage of subtle paper cuts and clues, lusts on paper and *****, petite memes cloaked in the vast inertia of the West. Rags piled high as riches, short denim shorts worn publicly before each and every oval and square, curious domain names ******* the brain to forget the old complaints, renege on values once comparable or the same.

Only in this world, today, strangers bed each other and misspell the chants beaten into their acute proclivities for breaking the law, while purposely opening their mouths on soap boxes, and orchestrating the papers’ coolness through the grid and onto the plane. The work of the slaves is the accord to which forewords tune gravity.

This is the paper taking down cities. This is the worship building anarchy in its own members. This is the end of the call and the beginning of the caste. These are the mute and colorless stains on the walls, and the childhood loves of an adult that colorfully decorate the dormitory in his past with the clutter and occupancy that curtails to no complaint. There is the paper and there is the gain. Will any of them ever be human again?

My love you are glowing from inside and outside as well
Please give me some space in your beauty just to dwell
You beauty is so glorious and I am totally under the spell
You are the supreme beauty of universe just let me tell

How can I pay tribute I do not know and have no words
My innocent emotions are hovering around you like birds
Book is yet to be opened still I am going through forewords
After tasting your beauty I have left behind all drunkards

Let my love go on a love date to understand ,reciprocate
My love is always straight and your beauty is so great
My enlightened light my heart solace and my soulmate
You are in me like my life and our souls are to incarnate

Col Muhammad Khalid Khan
Copyright 2016 Golden Glow

You are so fabulously dressed ,all eyes are on you
You my sweetheart is like a moon just out of blue
Your charms are on petals of rose like drop of dew
My love is daring your beauty is dashing and true

So sweet you are that I can not explain in words
We are songbirds and we have to set standards
Beauty is spread over chapters love in forewords
Together we will rise high to make love records

Oh beauty of heart, spread over light to enlighten
My sweetheart my beloved you made me stun
In this cruel world only you are mine and none
Let us my beauty be in sheer love to rise to horizon


Col Muhammad Khalid Khan
Copyright 2016 Golden Glow

A fellow's greed inspires response.
Please halt at none's giver.

Abuse, outwit, abstract a renaissance-
Forge thou's own exalt, fill thou's quiver.

O You. .  . the wise and kind-
Hath no courage to claim realms dictated.

Sin! Tis' a sin of your mind!
But forewords have been slated.

May yellow riches fill smooth shells-
And truth belittle lies from false prophets.

Lay on your bounty, chime thou's bells-
See thy's truth shun false promise.