The inverse of lamba squared is ten thousand to the power of the heist

Your Presence has premiere rhythm; Substitute halving my health

Estuary bearing burden standing true grit

Loaded dice humanity Undertaken uneath

forsaken aether Fluoridated month

Perfect posse palpitating puncture buck shot Higher than an ambush ambassador

Ceasing the sky fills wounded knee high to smokescreen rising Picking golden stunning silence
Mesmerizing Ocean wind wild card crying colour

All I want is form, yew grows always happy
Death defying lateral trial Destiny Timings

Legendary League of Ten thousand feet Emissary Ameliorate Stark inebriety
phantoms fathom cat and mouse Sanctuary in Sensory

Hustle bustle Gravity’s Blasting Muscle Pulses Corpuscles To Alleviate
Spiraling Carcass harness the sieve erase the harvest remove the artist’s grin
Smirk at Graves and hunt their Twisted Fates

Was it a divine sign amongst the creation –
A revelation so lightsome and pregnant –
That a blanching feather’s unforeseen descent  
Made my poetic soul blench for evocation?

Surely, t’was from some celestial spheres, –
Angelic wings of cherubs and seraphim –
So long been soaking in firmamental affairs
That human mental senses but morphine.

A feather if eatable, a matter of addiction –
Plucking and plucking without satiety –
If been drinkable, a matter of intoxication
Leading humans into ever inebriety.

                               ---

O’ glorious feathers who hover with mystery –  
Over skyey dreams and unearthly visions –
Which land on the earth with vice and misery,
Lending the haver only vain aspirations.

O’ one-time ornaments of the seven heavens –
Brightness and whiteness of all times –
Have you no shame on the dirt of your pens
Writing worldly prose and heretic rhymes?
By-the-way, your heaven is no heaven but a sky –

As well as not every brightening is holy –
Just as Icarus has fallen from and by your high
As others are mystified by your fake glory.

                               ---

Whether art thou the sinister poker of Iblis –
Leading by a dancing feather in the hand –
Human arts like the one that let fall Ibn Idris
Calling with fair words to the Fallen’s land?

Whether divine inspirations in form of an aura –
Blown on the poor’s brow as enlightenment –
Art thou as the freshening science of soul and soma
Kindling the minds’ muscles as a tea of mint?

Oh, Only God knows of Ma’at’s Hall of gloom –  
If one’s deeds worth a feather morrow –
So, I seek only Deus’ forgiving, life-giving plume
To pardon my feather on the mortal pillow.

ever seen a restless lion,
impatient, antsy, a lion on-edge,
roaring at his bars of iron,
longing for the rocky ledge

yearning for the arid savanna
the sweet smell of savage hunt
the scuffle with the young hyaena,
the vanquished's final grunt

ever seen the tired ape
the depressed orang-outang
lying captive, a worn-out cape
benumbed from all pain or pang

lost all hope of hanging branches
the overgrown Amazon marshes
forgotten the delights of the wild
the call of tribe and his sister's child

ever seen a prisoner's despair
locked away from all society
his loss of self-worth and self-care
his state of mental inebriety

once-gregarious reduced to staring
never hears the music blaring
a listless, languid, brainless zombie
outside world inane cryptography

ever seen your mate in club
your chum-friend at the local pub
smiling, laughing, without a care,
taking part in truth-or-dare

beneath the outer charm and suaveness
calmness of a Greek Adonis
lies a restless, confounded soul,
prisoner with no parole

lies an intelligence rattling the bars
peering out through aged scars,
muffled, muted by cruelest medicine,
fated eternal jail denizen

longs to escape to outside world,
break the bars, flag unfurled,
but as those captives in the zoo
has lost all hope of living like you.

Now rejoice then repent
Since long I have meditatively roamed,
Many a vicissitude and nothing gained,
In the oblivion  the cosmos I have seen,
In the twilight and gloom there's sheen.

The Sun whirls, The moon glides yonder,
How I come and go ah I'm set to wonder,
Eloquence's fanatical, to attire in  silence,
Speak little, be reticent with forbearance.

Whisper to the balmy breeze sans frown,
Not a stir even when I wear an airy gown,
In the realms of silence I shan't hear again,
Take my word, I wilt never meet the twain.

Sad echoes will sound from what ye adore,
Life's whisked away, away drifts the shore!
Voices will sink and the eyes shall lose light,
A new Sun, a new Moon and stars so bright.




In  fading scenarios novel  pictures emerge,
Tranquility dies away, vicious passions surge,
In the flurry of passions the inebriety swells,
Blows are flying amid bawl, shrieks and yells.

Your jubilation will end in profanation of joys,
For you the fate hath woven iniquitous ploys,
Don't put on genteel semblance, stand to face
In brewing turmoil watch your thawing grace.

Feral wails shall haunt you thru day and night,
Wallowing in miseries to paint a piteous sight,
The resting hours shall agitate your toxic mind,
To feed you with memoirs so horribly unwind.

Let your wisdom make you so horribly unwise,
In the ocean of detestation ye will sink and rise,
Leap and lick your bruises, retribution is at play,
Reward or penalty, for you did yourself betray.

Let grief be the cherished gourmand and taste
The infuriating gall that awaits you in all haste,
No consoling words and no reassuring gesture,
Only time will paint thy face in ghastly feature. (Dr. Riaz Ahmad  December 9, 2020