At first we flew with timeless wings
Into the dreams and beyond.  
And when the truths came
and monstered us all,
we had to cope or fall

I WAS walking on eggshells,                  
Walking on the razor's edge,
         I fell  into life
onto the ground of truth
                                           He IS walking on eggshells
                                           He IS walking on the razor's edge
                                           Life on one side, Death on the other

We are not Born in the air with timeless wings,
           Gravity grants space and time
                       And yet still
            What is up must come down
  
May the landing  be gentle,
like a lion's roar when it
comes to the mountain peak to
announce itself,
May it be wakening,
like the first summer sunrise burning into the day,
May it be embracing
like the entwining vines
racing upwards towards the sun
to gather all the light

With the visage of the blue monster,
I’ve cuddled that identity
And smudged it to myself.

This chap in ashen nature,
Has parked himself –
Resting in the right plane.
I was gazing at him,
That look he furnished
Made me probing.

“I have mine stained,”
On my trend, his eyes were fixed;
And there in the chair’s apex,
His hands were zipped.
Only just lately,
I grasp the gist of those words,
Yes, he was pointing to my shirt!
“Oh..” I retorted
And it was a late reaction!
That atmosphere has staggered me!

Someone called his name,
He countered by flights of stroll;
Alright, so that’s the first chitchat!

It was drizzling outside,
I opened my umbrella and stride.
I spotted him,
Him, yes, him! Oh, it’s him!
He became the frontage of that scenery;
With his umbrella on,
I ask over something –
To which I don’t remember at all!

Seeing him made me in high spirit,
There’s an up aura within me,
Oh, again and again.

To that chemise,
I extend my gratitude;
For it was the start of something so new!
To see him once more,
How I wish.. I just wish..

(7/28/13 @xirlleelang)

we started with light
blind from the beginning womb
imprinted with invisible memories
of inherited eyes, mouth, smile,
bundled as an offering
to the random grasp
of circumstance
mothered to be mothers
fathered to be fathers
monstered to be monsters
preyed to prey
to dust, to dust
womb to tomb
there is just this next day
same as the next stepful taken
what other choice
the feet has a left and a right
you step on one
the next step follows
same as the morrow
same as the next breath
layers and layers of what follows
some know, some wait
but always
the shadows comes in late

I sat amidst the roar and the clatter.
The baby cats were busy siphoning their mother.
Six I recall; six they were.
Each puncturing through mama's wells.
I sat bewildered.Staring without mere blink.
I sat and watched.

The ******* male cat entered
And domineering swalted to the seat.
Pushing forth the feeding babes.
One dropped and fell.
He acted as though drunk.
Maybe he just copy pasted my dad.
I don't know.

But mother cat arose with protest.
I could see her lips move.
Same as mother mine.
In defence of us from father's blows.
But the towering figurine owned strength.
One blow drew blood from mama's cheeks.
His claws had sufficiently worked.

She lay down on the seat.
Quiet yet submissive.
But was it really submission.
Mebelieved it thence a usurp plot.
For when the male turned to jinx the victory dance.
Her teeth dived into his protruding *******
Shriek shriek shriek none let go.

The monster was being monstered.
Brute had met science.
He shrieked upon the divan seats.
Prowling the children upon the floor.
One hit his head badly, never to meow again.
It was thence that she came clean.
Her silver lips orchre red.

One hurl accompanied his shrieks outside.
One jump sealed his accuintance.
He was gone as he came; violently.
Mother cat bent to sniff on her traveller babe.
Dew formed upon her severed cheek.
I cried too.
And mother watching from the corner of her newspaper.
Stammered under her breath.
"This marijuana will bewilden you."

I’ve seen your work before; fearless, freshly framed
for those colored *******; slowly visible in moist  
and languid ways, splitting sleekest hairs
in scorched sheets, cinematic, grotesque grunts
humming the atmosphere.  This is your love at it’s
latter, punching dusty walls dim, *******, firecrackers
pressed against bellies, new equations filling the exterior
in jittery squirms.  The plot is peeling smokeless holes,
unfiltered, breathless, old solos fading in filth across the
canvas as dark eyes spark slurpy tangent twists,
their keys tight against the lock, slowly pushing the door
open to jagged letters.  You can’t blame me for following
your footsteps. It’s my duty to leave those strike-through
images against the blackboard, single-spaced adjectives
lining the detail, similar to how you fed those *******  
of your time with florescent glitter. We’re very much alike,
you and I, stiff steel of goodness, tight-strapped, monstered,
baptized with crafted portraits, old yet so close to home,
breathing inside our interior.

Living with this new found rage
I put this pen to paper
To release me from my monstered cage
I have the heart of an artist
This is what I feel today

The world is suffering
Children dying daily
Yet no one even blinks
The basic rights to living
Is to them but a distant dream
Money rules us
I honestly think this stinks
The rich live like kings
When others don’t have even but a sip to drink

We live like nothing’s happening
Do we not feel the killing
The worlds in turmoil
Or have we just lost all feeling
The result is chilling
The world is dancing
While others music
Bombs on their ceiling
The wrong keeps winning
Yet the world keeps spinning
Am I the only one that sees
The light in the world is slowly dimming
It’s sickening
Behind their masks they keep on grinning

Can you feel what I’m saying
or can you not feel my craving
This world is our end
Yet we just keep on giving
I dare you to open your mind
Instead of blindly blinking
The world is dying
Yet we just keep on sinking
We destroy everything
In the end who’s winning
These words I’m inking
Comes from a place where cold truth is living
It haunts me daily
Yet the rest just keeps on playing

This feeling on this page
Is driving me insane
Am I the only one
That feels the worlds screaming pain
I guess, to the rest
This feeling has become mundane
That’s a shame
Because in the end
You should be feeling the same.

Written by Faizel Farzee