There is pleasure's sigh, there is despair's sigh,
Adorned with a sweet smile or a sour cry,
Screaming both in the night with no reply,
Under the glamorous buildings up high,
Who are standing under the blue night sky.

All places of Tokyo change at night,
Streets are flowing rivers of gleamy light,
Lit-neon signs glowing at every sight,
Under the glamorous buildings up high,
Who are standing under the blue night sky.

More footsteps have been set in these lit-streets,
Than the words have been said in these lit-streets,
Or the numbers of debt in these lit-streets,
Under the glamorous buildings up high,
Who are standing under the blue night sky.

Glamorous in the busy night like pearls,
Hostess girls show to men a sight like pearls,
With smiles and teeth who're white like pearls,
Under the glamorous buildings up high,
Who are standing under the blue night sky.

Girls who're shining like jewels are adored,
Who quickly by empty wallets get bored,
By the men who these sweet gems can afford,
Under the glamorous buildings up high,
Who are standing under the blue night sky.

As long as bars shine with signs of neon,
The crowds in this city are going on,
Until they are put out at times of dawn,
Under the glamorous buildings up high,
Who are standing under the blue night sky.

Lights are reflected as blurs in each pool,
Who distort the sights like the alcohol,
Who is served in passionate bars as cool,
Under the glamorous buildings up high,
Who are standing under the blue night sky.

Water's flowing in the water business,
Who's to the old days a reminiscences,
Where the thin rules of the night are boundless,
Under the glamorous buildings up high,
Who are standing under the blue night sky.

Unlike the tradition of the flower,
Here they paint faces to take a powder,
And then embrace the ones with much power,
Under the glamorous buildings up high,
Who are standing under the blue night sky.

The alcohol is poured down like the rain.
How hide drunkenness from whiskey and champagne,
They put powders on the face to look plain,
Under the glamorous buildings up high,
Who are standing under the blue night sky.

Adored, desired and loved is every star,
Who strolls around or drinks in every bar,
By each man with a luxuriant car,
Under the glamorous buildings up high,
Who are standing under the blue night sky.

Mâhî's still to Tokyo a stranger,
Both to its pleasure and to its danger,
Where the eyes at night only see a blur,
Under the glamorous buildings up high,
Who are standing under the blue night sky.

trust in the shape of a key,
good god how corny is that?

satisfactorily nonsensical, a Pharisee phrase,
so offal illogical,
it borders on the poetically reprehensible

who has time to state this stuff,
pretend it is worthy of something respectful,
work it into a Nobel Prize awarded script,
nominated for "really bad ****?"

an ordinary hardware key, brass gleamy,
and the squealing grinding noise
heard while a blank progenitor is reimagined,
so so annoyingly ludicrous in this century
of plastic replicators but the noise,
comfortably familiar as a sound of
things being made

run thumb test over the cuts,
as if your thumb should know
what order the points and bevels,
the toothy gap spaces should be,
the correct disorderly order of the teeth

there are very few locks on a farm;
indeed the front door key
has not
been seen
in many a year

what's that you ask?
ok ok - I get it - in harvest time
it is early to bed and earlier to rise,
conclude this mystery key,
red winter wheat needs laying down,
stop your word seeds germinating

there may be few locks on a farm,
everything rusts so quickly anyway,

but stop to comprehend just how many locks
the human body employs  -
at least 613,
maybe many more,
and only one master
for them all

a shiny gleamy thing,
strangely,
its cuts and grooves seem to
spell a word
trust

go figure

1:05am in the city

My quivering fingers dance on the ivory of piano
You come swirling in front me
Dressed in white
My angel of light
I'm no longer scared of the long night

You gently kiss my forehead
I forget about everything but the gleam of love in your eyes
With your essence by my side, I'll once again rise
No more tears and no more silent cries
We'll live a happily ever after in every life
- Zahra Sherazie

Life is a light bulb.
We begin this life as children,
fresh out of the box,
faithful that the light will always shine.
Smiling faces are illuminated
with careless smiles.
As we age,
the flawless glass embarks on a journey
to dusty, *****, darkness.
Flickering on again, off again.
Flicker, flicker, flicker.
The more we grow,
the dimmer life becomes.
Gleamy turns to gloomy.
Bright ideas fade into obscurity.
Slowly but surely it begins to fade to grey.
The warmth gradually dissolves.
We desperately, frantically search for
the childish light we once held,
and shared to mightily with the world.
We soon realize,
there is no more light to be shared.
Flicker, flicker, flicker.
Suddenly,
All too suddenly. . .

The bulb burns out.
We are left in the cold.

My life is a light bulb
and it's flickering away.

That grin
enviably free of worry
should be an advertisement
for the way things ought to be.

Effusive innocence
casts itself from a
twenty year old snapshot
like juice from a fatted orange
pierced by a thumb
spitting jealous longing
on people who wear pants
giving anything in trade to
erase what they know
about growing up
to sit next to a
gleamy eyed kid
making **** prints in the earth
proudly touting a ***** nose and
Sedona sand on his Underoos.

Must we ever leave there
the paradise of naivete'
devoid of threat
absent of concern
universe of
daddy-can-whip-anyone?

Enemies do not exist
because we have not yet
learned hate.
Joy is first instinct
until we grow into fear.
The world is fig leafs and beauty
before a cynical serpent
has his way with us.

A father begs his son
"STAY THERE! STAY THERE!"
Protection is lost
outside the frame.
There's no recourse
for growing up.

Little golden haired girl that skips down wooden stairs,
Her pigtails swing in the air as she lands on the sidewalk
Where I used to bury acrid smolders of my cigarette sticks
And laugh with the rabbit toothed woman who coughed too much.
I breathed smoke from her yellow teeth but now the girl,
With rosy cheeks and beady eyes jumps over puddles in yellow boots
She glances with red cheeks and falls face first into brown muck,
To be held up by a man who walks, talks and looks
Nothing like me.

In the cold nights of winter the girl, the woman and the man
Melt themselves in each other’s warmth, I stand alone
Behind their window rubbing my red chest,
Flirt with myself to knock, to go inside
and slice the apple pie and slurp the eggnog.
My fingers immobile, short fragile icicles
But the black beady eyes pierce through pane,
A wide smile with missing teeth calls out
To hold a gaze through  watering eyes.
They see her as an old photograph
Of the woman who would run her  fingers
through knots of hair as I cried on her lap.
I press frozen hands against the glass,
Peer into flickers of those dark gleamy eyes  
And see the mother and daughter walk on sand
with naked feet
and me,
hand in hand.

ashen wasteland
healed by dew
pulses, trembles
birthed anew
Mother beating
midnight drum
     lily, crocus
     cherry, plum

yearling stumble
hatchling drop
grizzly bumble
salmon flop
coyote howl
jackal bay
gleamy-eyed
they stalk their prey
brutal jaws
on tawny throat
****** tears
in tawny coat
feign o possum
flee o hare
     saffron, saltbush
     tulip, tare


Mother sows,
human reaps,
forward still
the forest creeps
hack and slash
slash and burn
     maple, mayfly
     buckthorn, fern

chipmunk gather
raccoon store
silence on
the barren moor
groundhog slumber
grizzly snore
    knocking on
    the Old Man's door

I wish I wish
I was so much
Younger, much taller and richer
And possessed all
Worldly possession
But only to attract you

For they are nothing
Nor either can they be seen
When stood next to
And within the glare
That shines around you

I wish I new
What lied behind
The sheen of those
Gleamy green eyes
That foster jealousy in
The  grasses which
Coat the gardens of Eden

You cover me with
Cream , chocolate ice cream
With your Irish lilt
Feathers on my senses
Forgive me
For my eyes intrude
And powerless I be

But at the same time so strong
When I am filled with
My Love for you
Show me your enemy
Ghengis Khan, Godzilla
I will blow them away
As you take my breath away

With just a look
I melt into a brook
Don't know where I am
But,
it,
Sure feels good
In my love for you

But let my wishes live unfulfilled
For I barely can hold a stare
So why would be so bold and dare

But please do not panic
For my wanting
I expect nothing
Nothing more can you give

For you have already given
In each and every single smile
Far more than I could ever return

And my real and simple wish
Surely now
I can not have one
Now I have had the honor
To meet
Such a beauty
As YOU

The neon nights did shine again,
At the place of Tokyo, really bright.
The girls did gleam with beautiful clothes,
The guys did glow with aflame fashion.

There were many mazes to be found at midnight,
In the city streets, sightly here.
''Midnight Pretenders'' was on tonight,
Breezing and blooming in the bright streets.

The pinky pearly view paced as
Raindrops as diamonds dancing in lights,
And fell fairly upon the shoes
Of gleamy girls glowing and adorned
With ribbons red and rosy hues.

Nobody at night slept, at the afternoon
Everyone woke up again after
Days of dozing off, and at dawn
They went away, towards their beds.

She is a moon upon the nights of cities,
Who glows and gives the gleamy lights of cities.
The 8-bit sounds do sing and neon-kanji
Is written, showing pretty sights of cities.

Parched lips sip at the rejoice of true love
Sheltering unto the embarks of greatness;
A beautiful journey- oblivious to heartbreak.
Intrigued by gleamy eyes, wet from crying-
Tears for hoax love,
The heart shatters at the sight of each tear drop
One kiss my dear and all pain shall go away.
There was something about the way he smiled
The way his body flexed with each move,
O how divine!
But it wasn't just his body i liked, it was his soul
Or atleast that's what i thought too.
Took me long to know of his deceitful facade;
And his false love
He was not what he claimed to be
He was but a monster in disguise, a true depiction of what we call a casanova.

A tune of future funk does play,
Perhaps from a dreamy city.
A soft, a smooth voice does narrate,
Perhaps bout a gleamy city.

I do hear stories about much:
Before my eyes I see the lanes,
The cute couples walking around,
The neon-lights and falling rains.

Not much have I narrated this story,
Who's about glee and about worry.

I became quiet after seeing her,
This bluesy woe; o soul, this does vary.

We are the nightingales of this garden,
We are the poets, wielding poetry.

This crafted work is veiling prejudice,
I don't see the hands crafting embroidery.

Sometimes a love, sometimes a description,
Mâhî's drawing a gleamy gallery.

A gleamy shell of the ocean,
She is at day and the night.

I had a dream this winter
Of ****** leaves and of ochre branches,
Of sprout twigs and of lakeside lunches
Of the resplendent canopies, of the infinite sleepless nights,
Switching through warm vivid reveries
And the seeping soulful flickering brights
Of my yellow scattered image in the yellow gleamy pond
Of the fluttering up of my wavy white blonde
Of the sun tanned Jack, of his sea-green eyes
Deep when he sees me, deadly when he turns back
His palms are white, mixed with red and green,
He fondles my forehead with his spindly long fingers
This lissome Jack can never feel like a dwam
As he touches me with all his heart
The enigmatic love that dribbles down my skin
That lingers with me, even after I stir.

He trails again to far-off heavenly lands,
To the Sun, the Stars and the hurrying horizons
Hastily taking my olive hands,
He pulls me up, our hearts pressed on us
Suddenly the skyline fades, the seas turn black
I can’t see Jack, his Prussian eyes now black
I open my eyes and I am back in my dark icy dwell
Cold as I was, cold again I am
Ripped away from Jack, my shine, my light
Who I was with, every fragment of this frigid wintry night.

It’s about time. To hear, to find
Raison d’etre, to try, to budge,
To come to terms, to go behind,
To realize, to guess, to judge.
  
It’s about time to fall in love,
Enjoy it every moment and day,
And watch the gleamy stars above,
And simply live, eat, love, and pray.

It’s all about time: you decide at last
To make a cherished dream come true,
No longer worry over foolish trifles,
rejoice at everything you do.

It’s time to watch the sky and sea,
White sail and beautiful sunset,
And feel with every cell "I’m free",
And cherish those who you have met.

when everybody knows your name
yet, you are nowhere to be in shame
about the story
when you and the devil meet
in a strange spot to steal the keys
of a graceful kingdom
no soul’s willing to leave

but when that revealing morning came
it woke you up to a noisy day
then your eyes and the gleamy light,
coincided; making the power embrace
to expose the giggly masquerades
in their no longer hidden space

the screams of manipulative souls
and their vile ways of telling lies
they no longer can destroy the night
nor the lovers in sunlight
nor the skin on skin delight
nor the sincere feeling of excite

no genuine soul can hear the ache
as if the pain is a muffled joke to fake
no sign of suffering my child can see
like if the mockery made the dead
drag the fools to be fed
by their ceaseless lies ahead

I am in love with a stranger
A mere glimpse of him electrifies my heart creates the adrenaline rush,
excites my neurons.
Those eyes unfold the several unrevealed tales.
The gleamy eyes when unexpectedly meet  mine , leaves behind the several unarticulated expressions.
His lips so plain when meet mine ,
it felt like a long lost traveller in desert found water to quench his thirst.
When his fingers slightly touched mine ,it leaves behind a shiver in spine of mine.
These emotions are creating a havoc in my life ,
it has never happened before ,
he is another stranger , I don’t know about yet I am in love with a stranger , yet I am in love with a stranger..

Stunned by her one day in a bar
Remarked her from far
Her attitude and style full of fire
That no one could stand but admire
Eyes that shimmer like stars
A smile that would stop all wars
Desired ones would treasure her full of jars
Yet she'd jilt all from mars
As if all were seamy
Though she is so fanciful and dreamy
Full of gleamy light
Elegant beauty that gloss too bright
Competed the demons to affright
Her quest for one who would protect her in night
Remaining eternal with resisting flight
Her armor of knight
One who decease for her in a fight
Seemed no one would deserve her of right
Chosen one would be one who knew her from sight

YouTube Link:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mwKgZsUPaZI

Before the buds of August bloom into a pretty, fruitful flower,  
She perched down into the couch to sip her coffee with some sour.  
While doing so, disgorging the pothole of my thoughts, she questioned: Do I allow her?
To feel every fright down her spine, cower down the line, worry, dismay, dread confine,  
Or to grin, scowl, howl under the mellow, mushy light
Nevertheless, I do claim: How her? Why her?  
Therefore, obeying my inner radiance, I reprimand:  
Live a little more, intonate the gratitude, and let your say soar.  
Revisit the cinematic flashbacks, let the gleamy happy tear frore,  
Look beyond the night, enrapture the day's roar.  
Admit you are apologetic if it makes you feel empowered.  
Shower with kindness before life devours your future endeavours.  
Embrace your flaws and let them reflect your superpowers.  
Be beautiful, be happy, be you. Elsewhere, who is she? without her?(the embodiment of my own innerself)