"jinn" poems
God said,
-through the Shaikh...
..be He blessed,
The news has come to me about the kind of calamity that will befall Baghdad.
Offering a supplication on behalf of the inhabitants of the city, praying they be spared. Saying, as God, dejected;
*Be my life for indeed someone in this city deserves to be killed and crucified! For one individual whom YOU honor, like thousands of others whom YOU shall have destroy them; You make us suffer for THEIR sins?*
WHAT HAVE THEY DONE?
YOU *have melted the pieces into ingots of the Godless and men?
You try to compete with the Prophets?
You claim to miracles?
You believe you speak the Word?
That you represent, in doing, by action?
Nay, -you serve the Jinn!*
This is the end of an Age,
Hypocrite!
Vanity is your loss.
* *...be not a deceiver...
(85:20)* *
Jan 1, 2018
Jan 1, 2018 at 2:29 AM UTC
Of all vice in the world under discipline
Laziness – a Curse - is like a Saccharin.
Sweet as pipe, sonorous as violin
Wicked as a snake, ill-mannered as Bedouin;
Laziness creeps in secretly body within
And remains there undisturbed and akin.
It is seen when duty or slog does spin
Grinds us till in others found Lenin.
But that is a bad time as made us thin.
Hence precaution must be taken, O Kin!
Laziness, a Bad King, should not reign
Over us from beginning to let out jinn.
Of all vice in the world under discipline
Laziness – a Curse - is like a Saccharin.
Aug 13, 2017
Aug 13, 2017 at 8:40 AM UTC
i.
heretofore bygone week's
Tis I was layden in mine outgoing's;
Incapacitated, mine feet's step's unknowing.
ii.
Dolor rolled as Boulder's
Down mine emptied innard's;
Jinn filled with hate and sin, tooketh over.
iii.
They tried to possesseth me
And diluteth me by their fear's;
They scratched, and bit, all didst spit
Yet mien reine reigned in by chariot flares.
iv.
Mount Mayon, in southern Luzon
Volcanoe's surround her citadel;
She snatched me from the barbarian's
In heaven, whence in hell.
v.
Manila in the concentrate
Between the thickness of it all;
Is where mine rose, her face didst gloweth
Her virtue's were one, of the prophet's and high law.
©Brandon nagley
©Lonesome poet's poetry
©Earl Jane dedication/Reyna/hari/soulmates
Aug 15, 2015
Aug 15, 2015 at 5:01 AM UTC
Walking down the streets of Rome,
I saw a curious sight.
There, sitting at an expensive
street side cafe was a gentleman
distinguished in age,
surrounded by beautiful women,
but seated next to a tiny,
30 centimeter tall ******
who was obviously crazy,
or as you might say in Italian,
a pazzo.
My fascination overcame shyness,
and I approached the man
to introduce myself.
To my surprise, he invited me to sit,
and enjoy coffee with him.
He already knew my coy curiosity,
and when latte arrived
he began to tell me
his strange tale of wandering
on the sands of Arabia.
On a starry, Gethsemanean night,
after supper with friends,
he wandered into the acrid sands
and stumbled upon an ancient
lamp.
He picked it up beneath the moonlight sky,
and in a jestful mood rubbed it
hoping to find a miracle to ease
his troubles.
To his surprise, a green-hue jinn,
sprang forth from the ancient
lips of a forgotten lamp,
to grant him three wishes.
Gathering wit, and wonder
he pondered good fortunate
short and long, before asking
his wishes:
"Please, mighty jinn with the light
green hair, grant me
fortune, so I may live the rest of my life
in comfort."
In a swirl of misty memories
he was transported to ancient Rome
and watched as random events
were tilted in his favor until
he sat at this cafe a powerful and rich man.
Pleased with himself,
he stared into twinkling jade eyes,
and said:
"I lounge in carefree wealth, but
I cannot not buy true Beauty. Please, powerful jinn,
let beautiful women surround me and tend to my needs."
Once again, back to Christmas past
he watched all the beautiful women
of his desire being collected,
and bound to one single ring
of power, to serve, obey, and
grant all his carnal desires.
I envied him there sitting in
Armani suit, with twelve pairs of sensuous
legs longingly waiting upon his
every wish.
My fantasy of an exchanged life
ended quickly with cold champagne.
That crazy, diminutive pazzo,
had in lunacy decided to wet everyone's dreams
with real spurts of fizzy Prosecco.
I turned to my host to beg
a question, but he had the answer
already. In tired voice, he responded,
"you wonder why I keep a 30 centimeter Pazzo
with me at all times?"
"That was a misunderstanding he said,
but you can only wish upon a jinn once."
"Che cazzo!"
Jan 27, 2013
Jan 27, 2013 at 9:15 PM UTC
۞ ۞ ۞ ۞ ۞ ۞ ۞ ۞ ۞ ۞ ۞
When the Mahdi returns to smite Dajjal,
When the Antichrist in his temple of lies
is vanquished by lightning from God’s black skies
as the shuddering stars blink, waver and fall,
When JAH Rastafari, Lord Jesus (and Paul)
With Isaac and Ismael – even Jibril
Cash in on redemption and pay up the bill
(no longer in discord, but harmonized all) –
When the Jinn (and the tonik) have thrown in the towel
as libations are served by the Heavenly Host,
while Apollyon’s watchdog combusts with a howl
and the demons and dhimmicrats give up the ghost –
only then shall we learn not to entertain doubt.
But until that apocalypse: vote the clowns out !
Sep 17, 2015
Sep 17, 2015 at 8:47 PM UTC
If you set out to scale a mountain
It's best to go with self discipline
When you reach the clouds, don't falter
Don't stop and begin to palter
You get false ideals of hopes and dreams
Being able to unfold from the seams
As if the clouds are your personal jinn
And they can fill the void in between
Your dreams and reality
Just get back to actuality
Reach the highest peak
Find what you really seek
Because it isn't down hiding in the clouds
In short, quit dreaming
Finish climbing the **** mountain
Nov 12, 2012
Nov 12, 2012 at 12:28 AM UTC
How can I ever explain it?
Not without a full disclosure
I will tell you every bit
Your kindness to which I demure
Soldiers fight their own private war
Mine to protect the Hill Tribes
Willing to suffer all the gore
All credit to them I ascribe
Upon arrival in Da Nang
I gathered my field gear and rifle
A mission with Colonel Vang
Preparation seemed but a trifle
My kind mountain Hmong Tribal ladies
Give a great gift to me, your sons
I will escort them through Hades
I'll teach them to ****** with guns
Wet their tongues in cobra's blood
I have come to save you from doom
The coming communist red flood
Boys already made their own tomb
We shall fly the flags of the Hmong
We'll rally boys from the villes
We must slaughter the Minh and Cong
The Hmong will have their own Bastille
I will take a dragon to wife
Boys will nurture in her foul breath
They will worship their ****** knife
We'll dance the ritual of death
I’m the lost soul forest monster
Others have come before today
They are pathetic impostors
We will flow through the night to slay
Other boys born beneath the palm
They have come to steal your life's breath
It's them that we target to bomb
I'll walk among you as Macbeth
My Duncan is among your kin
Banquo will haunt me til I rot
I will be fixed with mortal sin
Unable to wash away the spot
I will hide my hands from Odin
A conundrum in which I'm caught
Future will be among the Jinn
My destiny from this foul plot
Your sons buried in sacred ground
They'll not be stained with my darkness
Peace for them will be so profound
How many thanks can I express
Those boys in valor's selfless crown
From gallantry, their future gone
Sins I keep and can't beat down
For many years, I must atone.
I, far removed from battles roar
Do fondly remember those boys
Their smiles and laughter before
Stand out among life's greatest joys
No more the fierce warrior am I
Just an old man with memories
I am needing to just say goodbye
And maybe, maybe my conscience appeases
Mar 18, 2017
Mar 18, 2017 at 6:33 PM UTC
Your travel has given me freedom.
But what is freedom when
you possess a soul divided?
What is the chronic sea without
its unfathomable dominions?
My soul is thirsty for you.
My cold and naked ankles mope
around your desolated castle;
Jinn, dust, and piercing silence is all that echoes
in this darkened dungeon that I have succumbed to.
And then there is me.
A heavy-laden wasted artist with
Spiny paintbrushes and faded color.
I refuse to leave the spaces that you read and play.
I refuse to exhale the memories of your sky painted blue irises.
My skin hungers for your delicate surface.
My teeth long to bite into your fleshy thighs.
In the hour of the noontide I feel you most
For our souls sahasrara blooms colorfully in the hour
Of the sun-the ancient mother of our roots weaves
Love with all of loves children and meets us with pneumatic cosmic kisses.
This is when I feel closest to you.
Without you, the world is just as it seems;
the sun burned into cinders,
Leaving the crops belonging to the sacred
soils of my flesh to prune and wither .
Ay! the droughts that you spread with your distance.
These are the days of my reaping
These are the days of my sulking.
The gardens are now closed and the
black raven cries out to a mournful mothers son.
Your scent died along with the laughter of the flowers
And the butterflies wont even flutter
Without your lovely eyelash kisses.
To live another day without the energy
Your presence fills my heart with,
Is to live an eternity hugging
Your coffin with sobbing rage;
fain would I take deaths hand.
The suffering of your glorious dawn
Wedded the universe deep beneath my skin.
You are the light,
And the absence of your holiness
leaves me opaque and hollow.
In my solitude I have watched the hours burn
And in each hour your fragrant sighs
escape with the dust motes
Surrounding the beaming light that
breaks through the cracks of the curtains.
I sit in the depth of myself
And listen for the echoes of your sounds.
A mother am I and a pitiful one too.
Like the rawboned mother with sunken eyes
carrying a baby in the womb, draining all of
the nutrition her body has to offer,
Your distance maps a massacred trail
Of my health and happiness.
You are the mother of patience
And the descendent of beauty and love.
You are the tsunami, and the still waters.
You are the uprising cub leading and mending.
You are the sap that feeds the giving tree of life.
You are the prince of wisdom.
You are
My flesh
In purest form.
- Arizona
Jan 12, 2013
Jan 12, 2013 at 8:37 AM UTC
St Simons Island, Georgia USA
East Beach, 12/4/2011
"Your focus determines your reality." —Qui-Gon Jinn
Witnessing an
amazing low-tide
phenomenon,
as if a walkway to
a parallel world
has suddenly appeared,
extending one-half mile
from East Beach
out to sea
People are slowly
gathering, walking, stopping,
stooping, staring in silence,
speaking softly—
I'm as eager
as Simon Peter
to join them, yet
somewhat afraid of
walking where
there has been
only seawater
minutes before—
Chattering dolphins
beckoning in the distance
instill confidence
So I join them,
stepping from the
beach onto the
other-worldly terrain,
first 42 steps confirming
we are not alone!
Surrounded by
a menagerie of
sand ***** clams,
beach flea amphipods,
sea roach isopods,
ghost, hermit, and
fiddler ***** even
cannonball jellyfish—
shades of the
Mos Eisley Cantina
on Tatooine
in miniature
But beware of
semidiurnal
tidal cycles—
Twice a day
at high tide
the sea, like an
unstable vortex
of a Chappa'ai,
consumes the
phenomenon,
even the beach itself
to the edge of
the dune
"The mystery of life isn't a problem to solve, but a reality to experience." —Frank Herbert
"So long and thanks for all the fish!" —Farewell message from exiting dolphins, translated by Douglas Adams
Mark Toney ©️ 2023
May 21, 2023
May 21, 2023 at 11:31 PM UTC
The stars are falling from the sky
The moon no longer wains on high
It's grown dark and cold
For the sun has been sold
Darkness reigns
The demons run free, they're the few that remain
Human life is over
The Jinn dance on the clover
The lion will eat the lamb
The light no longer stands
The cloven hoofed one rules this world
The one with the horns that curled
The Banshee no longer screams
Everyones already dead it seems
The shadow men walk to and fro
With no particular place to go
Only the creatures of the night thrive
Eating off of the dead one's hide
Vampires slowly die
With no human blood supply
So demons, ghost and Jinn
Is all the company the cloved one has with him
What a sad creature he has grown to be
How he begs for the light to see
Jan 31, 2016
Jan 31, 2016 at 11:55 AM UTC
The stars are falling from the sky
The moon no longer wains on high
It's grown dark and cold
For the sun has been sold
Darkness reigns
The demons run free, they're the few that remain
Human life is over
The Jinn dance on the clover
The lion will eat the lamb
The light no longer stands
The cloven hoofed one rules this world
The one with the horns that curled
The Banshee no longer screams
Everyones all ready dead it seems
The shadow men walk to and fro
With no particular place to go
Only the creatures of the night thrive
Eating off of the dead one's hide
Vampires slowly die
With no human blood supply
So demons, ghost and Jinn
Is all the company the cloved one has with him
What a sad creature he has grown to be
How he begs for the light to see
Mar 30, 2016
Mar 30, 2016 at 12:45 PM UTC
writing writing
spelling spell'ing
boil boil
toil and trouble
because
to pop the picture
in the bubble
"image'jinn"
cursed be the language spoken
nature has no definition
no words can define me
simply be*ing beings
within eternity
May 11, 2016
May 11, 2016 at 8:35 AM UTC
Welcome to the freak show...
Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, and kids of all ages; tonight we have the most tantalizing and unique freak show that we have prepared just for you. There will be things that you have never seen before, and that you will most likely, never see again. From all corners of the known world we have a very special show for you this evening.
It will frighten you, it may enlighten you, and it will definitely peak your curiosity. The ferocity of all these oddities is enough to drive anyone totally crazy...so step right up, come on in..."Tickets please, and for an extra fee, you sir may see, what it is that we hide behind curtain number 3!"
So come one, come all; come short, wide, stocky, and come tall; we will love and accept you all. Please come in and take a peek, it is our show than cannot be beat. Pinhead will let you in, and dog faced boy may greet you. But, it is the bearded lady that will really want to meet with you. Some things may scare you; but if they don't, then I double dog dare you, to stare at our oddities. You may do so wide eyed and wondrous, and without the thought of any apologies.
Have a tea party with the conjoined twins. Or, if you have a question; get in there and then ask the jinn. And, if the Jinn's answer were to cause an issue, the smallest woman in the world can hand you a tissue. After that, if you are still upset Girtha, our voluptuous rotund beauty, will gladly blow you a kiss; and she normally will not miss. But if she does, it is strong mans arms that will hold you down, so that you can not resist.
So come one, come all, to the freakiest freak show of them all. Buy some popcorn, and maybe a corn dog too...do you see that booth and the desk?
Buy a golden ticket now and get half off of at the burlesque! It's just 10 minutes after this show is through. It's right over yonder in tent number two. And, If you can't find the sign; it is the tent that is green, and the other half is blue. Lastly, there is a money back guarantee. This we can assure you, because we know that our lovely ladies, will never disappoint you.
Jun 3, 2016
Jun 3, 2016 at 7:32 AM UTC
.
In disused field is a blooming temple.
An ancient apple tree waiting eternal,
This stone bold sculpture was forged
With nimbus hands and windy eyes.
In hushed airs, Shiva dances to light,
Waves, sacred arms without swaying.
Bearded ones come to pay homage,
The solemn chickadees, the ranging
Sparrows, red robed robins— priestly
Doves, all who see are one enveloped
In graces of the New World Bodhi tree,
Waiting for blossoms so dearly come.
Edge of boughs brim under heavens
Landing with mystic verges of spirit
Into the mind of the eyes of nature—
Kali-flowered ears of lichen are pale
Green in their devotions, pummeled
By seas of seasons, foggy to the fray.
Finches, yellow, reflecting in a star,
Devout wee lamas golden with halo,
Are kneeling above berm, this nobby
Trunk, stave, inside bodacious stupa
Bell who sings clear, without ringing,
Body of elder grace, wisdoms, ages.
In cast irreverence, seldom do crows
Visit, when they do there is menace
Of the Jinn, dark giants in the levels,
Mercifully, out of shame, they do not
Stay, black wings due, die in luminous
Day moon, rain soak sun, balmy mist.
On pilgrim journeys, whirlings, prayer
Wheels, guide shy flocks riding gnarl,
Indie goddess, to overreaching love,
By sores of hollow in the steps, open
To being, brindles of myriad meadow
In temple blossoms— numinous suns.
Of both earth and sky, shines a beauty,
Whose form is written in blistering bark,
The ciphers of tongue to Sanskrit leaves
And lost fruits, given over, unforbiddens,
Within old apple tree a great wilderness
And all the branch of wings are knowing.
Feb 23, 2015
Feb 23, 2015 at 5:40 PM UTC
Please poet don't you mind me,
if I always say the wrong thing,
it seems I've no control,
don't need for you to remind me
of the song that I must sing,
my heart has one desire,
in joyness that it will bring,
bring it... to you,
I have no real intentions,
but I got lotsa lotsa apprehensions,
no good ones and no, no, no bad,
ones...
when I do it hey say they all "wrong",
well it makes me feel soooo so so so,
sad,
on a primrose path as I go on along
I wish we all
could just feel...
g L a D,
an sing the same same song,
Hey an I look very normal,
whatever that means - they say,
replaying my life,
into painful new scenes each an every,
day,
I might wear a bright side smile,
& seem just so happy to you,
I guess I look very young,
"they" say & hey maybe that is true,
so... WhAt???
It's not that hey I'm stupid,
cuz my IQ is pretty high,
an I ain't in love with cupid,
but it maybe part the realist reason,
in my question of how & why,
I hold out my waiting hands,
an lay my head down to cry,
an...
CRy,...
an cRy,
just...
I..,
Hey helpless is how I,
feel,
please forgive me,
please cuz I,
I feel like this is real,
it takes me away,
my mind there to steal,
I'm trying to pull away,
in the layers that I peel,
I always, I have wondered,
why I didn't quite fit in,
I felt that it a curse,
by some nasty hateful jinn,
it feels just like a top,
caught up endless in a spin,
but at least now hey I know,
it's not I'm living here in sin,
seems I'm in this battle,
with the odds that I won't win,
please I don't mean to beg,
but please won't you be a,
friend?
Can I,
yeah me?
Begin ..
Again?
I wonder yeah I wonder if I ever find my way,
home,
or if I'm cursed to walk on,
to walk on,
walk on here all alone,
no matter where I go,
no matter where I ever,
roam ..
.....it haunts me....
it haunts me.....
It taunts me ....
this thing,
An whatever the case may be,
be it fate or maybe even that ol' desTiNy,
understanding my pain
will help me to be free, as they say,
please..just open your eyes,
please can't you just see?
Hey hey... an hey hey,
hey hey,
hey,
hey there,
any way,
which way?
I,
I try and I try,
I wish you,
to just help me...
to... understand,
but somehow soooo elusive,
it just s l i pppp ssss...right..
through... my ..empty....waiting ....
.....hand.
Cherie Nolan © 2016
Jan 3, 2017
Jan 3, 2017 at 1:17 PM UTC
I feel the temptation taking over me.
One more time.. come on
"You know you want me."
Inhaling blissfully.. exhaling realizing..
I'm empty.
Old habits, just let me be.
Popped two or three.
Stumbling on my feet.
Temptation dominating.
Wanting you in me.
Unable to control myself leaning towards your lips.
Surprised when you reach for the kiss.
Pressed against me.
What shouldn't be.
Becoming reality.
In me..
Your force pulling me in.
My personal Jinn.
Willingly giving in to You.
Giving my soul to you.
Him. My Jinn.
Jul 7, 2015
Jul 7, 2015 at 8:34 PM UTC
.
In disused field is a blooming temple.
An ancient apple tree waiting eternal,
This stone bold sculpture was forged
With nimbus hands and windy eyes.
In hushed airs, Shiva dances to light,
Waves, sacred arms without swaying.
Bearded ones come to pay homage,
The solemn chickadees, the ranging
Sparrows, red robed robins— priestly
Doves, all who see are one enveloped
In graces of the New World Bodhi tree,
Waiting for blossoms so dearly come.
Edge of boughs brim under heavens
Landing with mystic verges of spirit
Into the mind of the eyes of nature—
Kali-flowered ears of lichen are pale
Green in their devotions, pummeled
By seas of seasons, foggy to the fray.
Finches, yellow, reflecting in a star,
Devout wee lamas golden with halo,
Are kneeling above berm, this nobby
Trunk, stave, inside bodacious stupa
Bell who sings clear, without ringing,
Body of elder grace, wisdoms, ages.
In cast irreverence, seldom do crows
Visit, when they do there is menace
Of the Jinn, dark giants in the levels,
Mercifully, out of shame, they do not
Stay, black wings due, die in luminous
Day moon, rain soak sun, balmy mist.
On pilgrim journeys, whirlings, prayer
Wheels, guide shy flocks riding gnarl,
Indie goddess, to overreaching love,
By sores of hollow in the steps, open
To being, brindles of myriad meadow
In temple blossoms— numinous suns.
Of both earth and sky, shines a beauty,
Whose form is written in blistering bark,
The ciphers of tongue to Sanskrit leaves
And lost fruits, given over, unforbiddens,
Within old apple tree a great wilderness
And all the branch of wings are knowing.
Oct 23, 2015
Oct 23, 2015 at 12:31 AM UTC
In disused field is a blooming temple.
An ancient apple tree waits eternal,
This stone bold sculpture was forged
With nimbus hands and windy eyes.
In hushed airs, Shiva dances to light,
Waves, sacred arms without swaying.
Bearded ones come to pay homage,
The solemn chickadees, the ranging
Sparrows, red robed robins— priestly
Doves, all who see are one enveloped
In graces of the New World Bodhi tree,
Waiting for blossoms so dearly come.
Edge of boughs brim under heavens
Landing with mystic verges of spirit
Into the mind of the eyes of nature—
Kali-flowered ears of lichen are pale
Green in their devotions, pummeled
By seas of seasons, foggy to the fray.
Finches, yellow, reflecting in a star,
Devout wee lamas golden with halo,
Are kneeling above berm, this nobby
Trunk, stave, inside bodacious stupa
Bell who sings clear, without ringing,
Body of elder grace, wisdoms, ages.
In cast irreverence, seldom do crows
Visit, when they do there is menace
Of the Jinn, dark giants in the levels,
Mercifully, out of shame, they do not
Stay, black wings due, die in luminous
Day moon, rain soak sun, balmy mist.
On pilgrim journeys, whirlings, prayer
Wheels, guide shy flocks riding gnarl,
Indie goddess, to overreaching love,
By sores of hollow in the steps, open
To being, brindles of myriad meadow
In temple blossoms— numinous suns.
Of both earth and sky, shines a beauty,
Whose form is written in blistering bark,
The ciphers of tongue to Sanskrit leaves
And lost fruits, given over, unforbiddens,
Within old apple tree a great wilderness
And all the branch of wings are knowing.
Jul 11, 2015
Jul 11, 2015 at 1:35 PM UTC
.
In disused field is a blooming temple.
An ancient apple tree waiting eternal,
This stone bold sculpture was forged
With nimbus hands and windy eyes.
In hushed airs, Shiva dances to light,
Waves, sacred arms without swaying.
Bearded ones come to pay homage,
The solemn chickadees, the ranging
Sparrows, red robed robins— priestly
Doves, all who see are one enveloped
In graces of the New World Bodhi tree,
Waiting for blossoms so dearly come.
Edge of boughs brim under heavens
Landing with mystic verges of spirit
Into the mind of the eyes of nature—
Kali-flowered ears of lichen are pale
Green in their devotions, pummeled
By seas of seasons, foggy to the fray.
Finches, yellow, reflecting in a star,
Devout wee lamas golden with halo,
Are kneeling above berm, this nobby
Trunk, stave, inside bodacious stupa
Bell who sings clear, without ringing,
Body of elder grace, wisdoms, ages.
In cast irreverence, seldom do crows
Visit, when they do there is menace
Of the Jinn, dark giants in the levels,
Mercifully, out of shame, they do not
Stay, black wings due, die in luminous
Day moon, rain soak sun, balmy mist.
On pilgrim journeys, whirlings, prayer
Wheels, guide shy flocks riding gnarl,
Indie goddess, to overreaching love,
By sores of hollow in the steps, open
To being, brindles of myriad meadow
In temple blossoms— numinous suns.
Of both earth and sky, shines a beauty,
Whose form is written in blistering bark,
The ciphers of tongue to Sanskrit leaves
And lost fruits, given over, unforbiddens,
Within old apple tree a great wilderness
And all the branch of wings are knowing.
Dec 18, 2016
Dec 18, 2016 at 7:18 PM UTC
May and Wish
I will give you all my wonderful may,
and all of my most heartfelt wish;
your are as beautiful as flowers in the month of may
so I will grant you all your thoughtful wish;
As you strive to live a peaceful life may
God grant you all of your heart desire and wish;
As your enemies set a trap for you may
they end up in it, and their evil wish
be withheld, as you set to leave my home may,
the angels guide you on the journey you wish;
life is full of many wonderful may;
but I will rather have you pick your wish,
then asked God to bestow it upon you and may
my prayer be heard that joy be added to you wish.
I will drown your in the amazing sea of may
so they will stick to you like the fallen star sticking to wish.
this many may and wishes are not for the month of may
alone, nor are they limited like the jinn's wish;
for every season greeting that comes your way may,
they content all the good may attach with lucky wish;
may peace and good health be with you every day
and may all your wishes come through in a golden dish.
these are my precious gift to you my dear and may
they always find a home in your heart, for their in my list of wish.
Jul 1, 2019
Jul 1, 2019 at 9:29 PM UTC
Remote area where there is no screen
Timidity rules alone trying to save skin.
Of all evils in the creation under discipline
Timidity – a curse – is like a Saccharin.
Sugary as tweet, booming as a violin
Wicked as a fox, ill-mannered as Bedouin;
Timidity sneaks secretly physique within
And remains there undisturbed and akin.
When obligatory duty or slog is seen
Sharpens us, whet us till found Lenin.
This makes us skinny, lanky and thin.
Living timid for me is no than a sin.
Hence precaution must be taken, O Kin!
Timidity, a severe knight, should not reign
Over us from beginning to let out jinn.
Aug 13, 2017
Aug 13, 2017 at 11:24 PM UTC
Demented
Was this evil
Witch
When she snatched girls from the
Streets
To havevthem sacrificed and
Possessed
By the jinn
When will she end her
Evil spree
Of taking innocence
And committing them
To Satan
Sep 28, 2020
Sep 28, 2020 at 5:59 PM UTC
Before we were born, the earth was ravaged
Then came man, a proud desperate savage
And all that was good, he came to disparage
For the earth and man formed an unhealthy marriage.
We spend our whole lives in search of bliss,
But there is no jinn who can grant this wish
And its in this search that our purpose is missed
We stab one another with knives made by the Swiss.
They order the crowds, to cease and desist
For if they do not they will cease exist
Gas and metal slugs bring forth the red mist
Knuckles are shattered as batons connect with the fist.
Man embraces fear in response to innovation,
Beating down thinkers into deepest degradation
Unable to stomach these new variations,
He herds himself like cattle into old formations.
Evil inspiration born from futility
Laying aside all thoughts of humility,
Manufactured our own creative sterility
Crushing ideas in the name of stability.
Yet the from the rubble of all we despise,
When many are dead, and the stars are aligned
Will our species awaken, stumble and rise?
Look up to the cosmos and then our open our eyes.
Not to God but to our own coalescence
Or will we choose to embrace our own evanescence?
We expect truth to emerge from the heavens,
But only through virtue can we hope to find essence.
Jul 17, 2010
Jul 17, 2010 at 7:44 AM UTC