Manning up in Texas
Geldof overdose
needles at the bed stand
starlet comatose

California dreaming
killer meets demise
hurling in a taxi
puke fee on the rise

Fighting in the Gaza
Jordan's holy war
rebels on a mission
Jihad underscore

The North Korean riddle
pales in grand design
crisis on the border
planes fall from the sky

Cooking on a deadline
tempting tapenades
herbs are in the spotlight
wines that give a nod

Google maps the body
DOW at record highs
Uber comes to market
corn is on the rise

Apple on its earnings
Caterpillar dead
European sanctions
banks have **** the bed

Clippers threaten boycott
Longhorns follow purge
Lynch is out of training camp
James is on the verge

Leinart taking *** shots
coughing up a lung
lions take a licking
fans are throwing dung

Another day in Vegas
Primm from A-Z
rolling out an ankle
a flying SUV

Quiet tempting spaces
made better by design
multi color pea coat
silence fuels the mind

Stabbing in the subway
goat caught in a well
apes are selling tickets
(but leave behind a smell)

Puberty on trial
a man without a head
teachers feel alone
lets take them to the shed!

Jonah's tomb destroyed
wreckage in Mumbai
Sugar Daddy sites
Freedom 85

The immigrant debate
Russia's mounting toll
unions on a mission
heads are gonna roll

Beaches for the nudists
hotels on the cheap
the best generic brands
a list you have to keep!

Planning your estate
questions from the camp
a mansion up for sale
where once they filmed The Champ

Midwives threaten action
aboriginal act
truckers want concessions
that train has left the track

Sharks are found in Fundy
a prized but perilous catch
food we love to hate the most
an irrefutable batch

A family on the brink
I want my kids to fail!
politicians drains all hope
a ban on Israel

Follow out each headline
let the columns be your guide
all these things did happen
the day that Newhouse died

a t-shirt. one that is a terrible color. 
my mom's least favorite, burnt orange. 
it shares a disgusting likeness to rust. 
and yet my dad would wear it everyday. 
regardless of everyone around him's distrust. 
"no one would dare to wear that in public" 
my mom said, she was wrong. 
perhaps when she married him she was not aware 
of my dad's inexplicable connection to 
this terrible color, or to t-shirts in general i guess
for about six out of the seven days a week regardless 
he would be wearing that same shirt
for the almost 20 years they have been married 
he can be found wearing that same shirt
however, there's a slight misconception
he doesn't have just one shirt 
he has dozens of those nasty burnt orange colored shirts 
and i suppose i forgot to mention that it's to support a football team
which seems shallow in theory but the aforementioned is
non-other than the texas longhorns. 
my dad grew up there and attended college there. 
he wasn't even a part of the team, and yet 
for the last 35 years he's been wearing that same shirt.
i simply can't understand his undying affinity 
i barely recognize the mascot of our own school team. 
there is a certain dedication, a certain love that he must feel towards this place, towards that team. 
however as i'm writing this poem i simply can't ascertain what it's all supposed to mean? 
texas, a place of southern accents, cowboys, and racism. 
not somewhere i typically tend to associate with even
though it was the place where i was born in 
on a Tuesday almost 17 years ago at about 1pm 
and of course i arrive
too early for my own good, 
so i stayed in a hospital in ICU until they said i could
be taken home to a house i barely remember. 
i wouldn't call that place home. 
and yet, my dad wearing another variation of his classic burnt orange t-shirt today 
that reminds me that's where i came from 
i came from burnt orange beginnings. 
and even though i might live in a blue ocean paradise as of now. 
that's not where i started. 
i tell myself that i am so much more that the place my life began in. 
so instead of loving where i started and the color that comes with it. 
i continue to despise that burnt orange color and compare it to rust 
and all other things that fill me with unexplainable disgust. 
but in the spirit of honestness. i don't hate it as much as i contest 
don't ask me about it however because for sure all i’ll do is protest
but even when i was little seeing that orange shirt and ******* car 
arrive in the driveway of my old school was truly the best 
looking for that ugly orange shirt at the end of the day when he always asked me what i had learned
hugging that terrible orange shirt when i'm crying 
after scraping my knee on the concrete
taking car rides with that orange shirt seated beside me 
that seemed as long as a lifetime to go see the turtles on the north shore  
after watching him present himself at a showing of a house we could never afford
watching that orange shirt fumble and stumble teaching me to drive 
fixing my air conditioner with this orange shirt at 2am
after a nightmare session that left me too rattled to sleep
that orange shirt who attends these loud rock concerts that he doesn’t necessarily enjoy simply to watch me be happy
that awful orange shirt that has seen me sad and happy and everything in between.
you know seeing that orange shirt for nearly every day of my life
has conditioned me 
and truly i hate it, the dustiness, the rustiness of it all. 
it’s disgusting, appalling and above all terrible. 
but for some godforsaken reason i also love it. 
i love it with my entire heart,
i truly love that stupid orange shirt for all of its awfulness
and logically i know it's not the shirt but the person inside.
because my dad is one of the most amazing people
i know and i hate to admit
but that color has grown on me, because of him
it's become home to me, 
it's my dad.
and maybe i'll never figure out why 
my dad loves his college football team so much 
maybe i don't need to 
what i know is that while burnt orange may be a truly terrible color, 
it's become home to me.

We used to have a larger group
Ten thousand head at best
Once we had the largest herd
Of Longhorn in the west

But, times got tough, we sold a few
There was the drought back in '11
I didn't know it got so bad
But, now....we're down to seven

Yep, seven steers and cows and calfs
Out standing in our field
There's not a lot of meat out there
It's really a poor yield

The Longhorns down in Texas
Took our football tickets back
They said that our best looking cow
Was like a blanket on a rack

We've done our best to make amends
We'll be on top once more, I'm sure
But, we have to keep the calfs all fed
Or else ....we're down to four

There's lots of land for them to graze
They'll grow big, I am assured
But, now I find it difficult
To call seven head...a herd

“April Gem”

April 27th, 15 years ago,
A diamond was born in this world,
and here's what she should know.

Spring is a time of renewal,
and birth of life after the winter snow.
The second you showed up in our lives,
you never ceased to shine and glow.

The first born child in the Syed's household
in the Lonestar State, the catalyst for many more,
and into our hearts, you've opened the gate.

Pin straight hair of cocoa brown that's sways
in the Texas wind, and keeps your shoulders warm and hidden;
a flowy mane of coffee- like locks, reminds me
of a majestic horse I've once ridden.

Her eyes gleam with wonder so rare,
so bright and young and pure.
No rope, no pull, no strength or snare can
even come close to that mystical lure.

I'm reminiscent of days when the earth was rich,
and the taupe soil gleamed like those eyes.
I gazed in deeper, and saw the galaxies shine bright in her view,
shaming the dark night skies.

That laugh of yours, high pitched, loud, carefree,
and bright;
seeing the sound of pure joy and glee,
depicts a happy heart, a soul that’s joyful and light.

I love the way your teeth aren’t perfectly aligned,
I love the way how you know how to sign.
Not a day in my life, not a minute I’ve inhaled
have I ever felt so close to someone else,
or felt a kind of love so unable to fail.

I sprint to the phone when I know it’s you,
I love the way you make me smile, especially when I’m blue.
Exercise of any kind generally isn’t fun,
but knowing you’re on the opposite line on the phone will make me want to run.

We’ve known each other since we could barely even talk,
you’ve been by my side to pick you up when learning how to walk.
Memories fill up my heart and show up in the form of tears,
knowing that it’s all safe with you: my hope, my dreams, my fears.

We may not be close in miles, sure there’s some transportation mishaps along the way..
But although I can’t see you everyday, my heart is where you’ll stay.
Thanks for being there for me, when I felt broken and distraught..
no wise person, owl, or scholar can teach me what you’ve taught.




I remember those times, I felt like a vase,
ready to fall off the table,
You comforted me, told me it’ll be okay,
and with more loving words, I again felt stable.

The elementary school years, now they looked like a breeze.
But when I go back and remember it, time just seems to freeze.
Back when everyone was the same and our minds weren’t overbearing,
and the only thing that mattered was whether or not we were sharing.

You changed location, and I did too, all around the place,
From Chicago nights of cold, and the days spent with Asim Mama;
The home of the Longhorns welcomed you and you did it, with a sweaty and excited face,
And I’m sitting here remembering it all in fast forward, like a photo in panorama.

my ghost will haunt the space of that old cafe;
nestled into the air above the second booth to the left
or tucked into the corner above the fish tank,
delicately breathing memories of proms and first dates
to renovators and brightly fluttering couples.

molecules agitated, eternally lingering in pursuit
of love lost to time and particular circumstances
dancing in stasis and unable to drift away from that cafe
and pink sheets in the sunshine, of longhorns
and the feel of a waist

I'm doing everything
We said we'd do
Together.
(What a horrible word, together)

Taking the trips,
Swimming in the lakes,
Yes, I swam in a lake.
More like a river...
But I did it
Without you.

Visited Mt. Scott,
Saw the longhorns,
Drove the exact same routes
As last spring.
Without you.

Funny how fate is so cruel
That I'm thrown back to
Exactly where we were.
Were.
Still past tense, still painful.
Still facing ghosts, still facing memories
Exact replication of what was.

Here I am, stuck in the in-between.
And you, where are you?

Gone, my ghost. Off to haunt someone else.

I think I fell in love
With all this sky up above

As I sit here in Texas, Cedar Creek
It’s so hot, not even a leak

But all the people oh so friendly
The smiles they give are always free

Some likes the cowboys and some are longhorns
Texas is much different than the state of corn

They have Goodwill’s much bigger than you dream
With rows and rows of clothes, WITH  ATTATCHED SEAMS!

They have a Cowboy Church that welcome you in
Don’t fret or judge when you can’t make it back again

When they say everything is better in Texas
You should see what we eat for breakfast

I cannot wait to start a life here
Texas is now my home, with a Shelby always near.

This tale I tell is bound by fire
Of dark magic, and dragons
Of that I'm no liar
Tis on a night just like this
That Bormar fell to bits

In deepest darkest middle ground
Where elves and warlocks roam around
And magic spills from every lip
And potions hang on every sip

The battle of the dragon borne
Against the mighty shadow horn
Would change the balance of the land
Where only one could rule with the strongest hand

Now wizards and dragons they plotted tight
Recruited elves and shadow knights
Made spells that would win no doubt
And banish all the goodness out

The longhorns of Bormar didn't dwell
For they knew that this could spell
The end of all they they held tight
And pledged to slay and **** all night

And so it was that they did meet
High on yonder hill did greet
Two armies of strength and power
Waiting for the killing hour

And when all blood spilled
And pain was born
Bormar stood
Now empty and gone

What was your secret of―
cheating on me?

If you were an abstraction
like a moon in blue night,
how will you write
a poem, without paper and ink.

I was a word catcher,
of your language.
Cannot decipher my pain in―
my nativity.

Always had to live in the
family of longhorns, who
destroyed my sanctity.

You raised a tomb
of sun, after death squad
failed to **** me
and the dark fell.

Just before the dawn
I will meet you in deep lake of eyes.