In the Midnight heaven's burning  
                  Through the ethereal deeps afar          
                  Once I watch'd with restless yearning    
                  An alluring aureate star;                
                  Ev'ry eve aloft returning                
                  Gleaming nigh the Arctic Car.            
                                                          
                  Mystic waves of beauty blended            
                  With the gorgeous golden rays            
                  Phantasies of bliss descended            
                  In a myrrh'd Elysian haze.                
                  In the lyre-born chords extended          
                  Harmonies of Lydian lays.                
                                                          
                  And (thought I) lies scenes of pleasure,  
                  Where the free and blessed dwell,        
                  And each moment bears a treasure,        
                  Freighted with the lotos-spell,          
                  And there floats a liquid measure        
                  From the lute of Israfel.                
                                                          
                  There (I told myself) were shining        
                  Worlds of happiness unknown,              
                  Peace and Innocence entwining            
                  By the Crowned Virtue's throne;          
                  Men of light, their thoughts refining    
                  Purer, fairer, than my own.              
                                                          
                  Thus I mus'd when o'er the vision        
                  Crept a red delirious change;            
                  Hope dissolving to derision,              
                  Beauty to distortion strange;            
                  Hymnic chords in weird collision,        
                  Spectral sights in endless range….      
                  Crimson burn'd the star of madness        
                  As behind the beams I peer'd;            
                  All was woe that seem'd but gladness      
                  Ere my gaze with Truth was sear'd;        
                  Cacodaemons, mir'd with madness,          
                  Through the fever'd flick'ring leer'd….
                  Now I know the fiendish fable            
                  The the golden glitter bore;              
                  Now I shun the spangled sable            
                  That I watch'd and lov'd before;          
                  But the horror, set and stable,          
                  Haunts my soul forevermore!    

My girl don’t like
To read these line,
You see, she like me
To talk straight,
She like to see rain
Not jus’ cloud dance,
Me – am not
Impractical,
Though, cloud, are
Beautiful:
Rain, no rain;
But I need to write,
‘Coz I mus’
Anguish soothe
Love stir and heart
Overflow,
Emotion: I pour
My heart out
In these line –
Nobody read’em
But:
Beauty in echo –
You gotta see,
Yea, silence smile.

I have been gone for a long time
Too long for me to count
But I've been gone doing some thinking
Remembering what my mentor once said
"you know what
Forget this!
Grab hearts with your fist"
So I left the stage
Went into hiding
And grabbed my heart with an open fist
See, Mad Max was nothing
Mus was nothing
Zero is definitely nothing
So why would I call myself any of these names?
Because Mustafa wanted to give them something
Mustafa wanted to give them meaning
But they tried to take over
So I left the scene
And thought about my mentor
"You know what
Forget this"
I knew I had to forget the past
Move my *** forward
And show everyone that Mustafa is back
Back on the center of the stage
Ready to read what I wrote
Speak what I know
Express my feelings and emotions
Unlike those masks
Trying to make me a missing link
In this exhausted world
"Grab hearts with your fist"
I can't help but keep remembering this one line
The line that helped me go beyond what I originally did
And gave me life beyond attempted ******
I mean life beyond a depressed lifestyle
I know where I am now
Why I'm back now
Because of that line
My mentor
My friend
My allies
Mustafa has made a return to the stage
Ready to speak against myself
No ready to speak for the future
NO!
Ready to speak...
For a new change and a new start

A gray hippo lived in the zoo
It was so stressful it turned him blue
The Giraffes laughed at his skin so blue
That only made him bluer times two

Now the Lion was wise but a little slow
That's why he wound up as the star of the show
He and Hippo were playing a game of solitaire
While the Lion played fleas were biting him everywhere
Hippo ate chocolate cake
That the tourist threw over the gate
Wise old Lion said ,
"You better watch your weight
Your getting a little thick in the hip ."

"Humph !" , said Hippo ,
"Why do you think they call us
Hip-po-***-a-mus ."

n.*  hy•po•thal•a•mus -ˈthal-ə-məs\
: the part of the brain that controls fight or flight responses

September 23rd
The first time our eyes met
Travelling across the room
Not knowing that those were the same eyes
That could **** me with a smile

December 28th
I found out that you wrote
And ****, that was hot
Your words that got me hooked
Were the same ones that cut my strings

February 14th
We were nothing close to lovers
Not even bestfriends
But I somehow felt less lonely
Talking to you everyday

April 8th
The beginning of heat
And I think I barely noticed
Because the thought of you
Makes blood rush to my cheek

June 19th
The start of school
And the start of the drift
Or maybe it was just stress?
I hung on to our conversations

July 31st
You talked about this new girl
And how she was pretty
And funny
And everything I wasn’t

August 17th
We haven’t talked in 2 weeks
Not like you noticed much
All you cared about was her
I'm starting to miss you
Alot

September 27th
I was in Biology
I studied the hypothalamus
And how it controlled
The fight or flight response of our body

September 27th
I was studying the hypothalamus
And learned that the body has a natural instinct
To detect danger or warning
Thus activating the hypothalamus

September 27th
I was studying the hypothalamus
And **** who gave you the right to walk in my mind
I was studying the hypothalamus for God’s sake how does this even relate to you?
I saw you in everything
A notebook – Cos you write
Coffee – because you loved it
The Fault In Our Stars – because you hated it
Pictures of New York – because it was your dream
My playlist – because you made it
My jacket – because it smells like you
My little sister – because she looks for you
My mother – because she still makes your favorite dinner whenever you visit
The flowers on our porch – because you planted them
Hot Pockets – because you despised them
But **** never did I expect to see you in a hypothalamus

September 27th
People don’t come with warning signs attached to their necks
And even if our body has a natural instinct to detect danger
People like you, know just the right things to say or do to trick my body into thinking you're good for me
You know my passcode, how to get through my walls
So all this time I’ve been wondering
Where was my hypothalamus, if I even had one
Why didn’t it warn me
To flee your arms before I got entangled in your words,
Before I sunk in the quicksand of your charm
Why wasn’t I warned, to fight or flight, before I got hurt this bad?
Why wasn’t I warned of the danger that was you.

Walk eyes down,
no eye contact here:
stalker who, don't
know who's a friend
here: I have things,
see, am a visitor here;
First man I ask points
a blind alley out; Turn
quick around, I mus'
hurry back to sounds!
No eye contact, now,
my sole guide bound
instinct here. Police?
Does that blue attire
mean safety or fear?
Who knows. Big city -
this dark night, life
comes cheap here;
So: walk eyes down,

This is A Faithful saying; If A Man Desire the Position of A Bishop, He Desire A Good Work. A Bishop then must be Blameless, the Husband Of One Wife, Temperate, Sober-Minded, of Good Behavior, Hospitable, Able to Teach: no given to Wine, no Violent, not Greedy for Money, bu Gentle, not Quarrelsome, not Covetous; One who Rules His Own House well, having His Children in Submission with all Reverence. For if a Man does not know how to Rule His Own House, how will He take Care of the Church Of GOD?; Not A Novice, lest Being Puffed-Up with Pride He Fall into the same Condemnation as the Devil. Moreover He must have A Good Testimony among those who are Outside, lest He Fall into Reproach and Snare of the devil. Likewise Deacons must be Reverent, no Double-Tongued, not given to much Wine, not Greedy for Money, Holding the Mystery of the Faith with Pure Conscience. But let these also First be Tested; then let them Serve as Deacons, Being Found Blameless. Likewise, their Wives mus be Reverent, not Slanderers, Temperate, Faithful in All Things. Let Deacons be the Husbands of One Wife, Ruling their Children and their Own House-Well. For those who have Served well as Deacons Obtain for Themselves A Good Standing and Great Boldness in the Faith which is in Chris Jesus. These things I write to You, though I Hope to Come to You shortly; But if I Am Delayed, I write so that You may know how You Ought to Conduct Thyself in the House Of GOD, which is the Church Of the Living GOD, he Pillar and Ground Of the Truth. And without Controversy Great is the Mystery Of Godliness: GOD was Manifested in the Flesh, Justified in thy Spirit, Seen by Angels, Preached among the Gentiles, Believed on in the World, Receieved Up In Glory.!!!

Spot of my youth! whose hoary branches sigh,
Swept by the breeze that fans thy cloudless sky;
Where now alone I muse, who oft have trod,
With those I loved, thy soft and verdant sod;
With those who, scatter’d far, perchance deplore,
Like me, the happy scenes they knew before:
Oh! as I trace again thy winding hill,
Mine eyes admire, my heart adores thee still,
Thou drooping Elm! beneath whose boughs I lay,
And frequent mus’d the twilight hours away;
Where, as they once were wont, my limbs recline,
But, ah! without the thoughts which then were mine:
How do thy branches, moaning to the blast,
Invite the ***** to recall the past,
And seem to whisper, as they gently swell,
“Take, while thou canst, a lingering, last farewell!”

  When Fate shall chill, at length, this fever’d breast,
And calm its cares and passions into rest,
Oft have I thought, ’twould soothe my dying hour,—
If aught may soothe, when Life resigns her power,—
To know some humbler grave, some narrow cell,
Would hide my ***** where it lov’d to dwell;
With this fond dream, methinks ’twere sweet to die—
And here it linger’d, here my heart might lie;
Here might I sleep where all my hopes arose,
Scene of my youth, and couch of my repose;
For ever stretch’d beneath this mantling shade,
Press’d by the turf where once my childhood play’d;
Wrapt by the soil that veils the spot I lov’d,
Mix’d with the earth o’er which my footsteps mov’d;
Blest by the tongues that charm’d my youthful ear,
Mourn’d by the few my soul acknowledged here;
Deplor’d by those in early days allied,
And unremember’d by the world beside.

Jail ones memory and let none in or out,
For those, seek & twist for relevance
Will toy, author mask'd in shadows with whispers say:
"Thou mus' reveal under minds barriers, mystery to those orbit".
Peaking to thee, yet not a dent nor mark embedded
Thou mus' not fade nor crack
Nor let, nature chip away
For thy hast been entrusted
Thou hast weakness to neglect halo ?
Thou hast weakness to lust Temptation ?

In my ears, Music
I memorize
every note, phrase, word
and play it over and over
again in my head
followed with some picture
that helps me to remember
the next soaring melody
or simple pattern
I memorize music, the same way
I memorize the patterns of your
face and presence
I measure each facet
every shadow
every line
every phrase you inhale
and every note you exhale
lyrical is your voice
on the air, which seems to stall in our
intense conversation
and tense, but warm, moments
of stillness
where there is connection
between our
eyes
but no movement in our bodies
except maybe the pounding
of our own hearts
I do memorize you, like a song itself
wishing I could somehow
transcribe your very being
to paper and carry you
close to myself, or inside a book
of poetry.
I realize,
e.e cummings said it best;

I carry your heart with me,
I carry it in my heart
I am never without it
anywhere you go, I go my dear

and just like that song, I learned,
lord, who knows how long ago

You
are already somehow etched
within those lyrics
and are inscribed in my own memory.

For in my ears, Music
I memorize
and in my heart,
somehow,
You, as well.

Ons gaan weer oor die
Alfabet , numeries , strategies
Ń sikliese seerkry storie.
Dieselfde -tagoniste herhaal
En haal mekaar aan , produkte
Van verandering , ja altyd
Anders. Maar so vervlaks
Eenders soos kop teen-
Kop in een mus.

Herhaal die verhaal my
beursie Is lig en
die lig is te skerp en
Die lug is te droog

, maar ek kla nie
Ek vra nie vra nie.
My hart weet hy begeer
Net. Nie vir A nie
Nie vir F nie
Nie vir
my nie.

Wat jy kort is-
Nie altyd wat jy kry nie.

En wat ek kry...
Is verseker nie
Jy nie.

Come one, come all.      Are you
Ready?     The night when
It's all about
The music!     All I can see and all
I* can hear, is MUSIC!
Can one night really change the future of music?
And the answer is yes.
Longing to go

And see it myself, live, in person.
Coming and going of the performing artists,
Coming and going of the awards and speeches.
Last chance to see who wins
And who performs together.
I love the Grammy's!* The one night it's all about
Music! The one award show I can't miss.

I    go        out          for       coffee
                    with            my                        be­st                            
                                fr­iend        every
                                 evening
                         And see the thorns come out of
                    I  people In ways I wouldn't expect.
              D    One woman moves away from us. One
        R         boy calls her a terrorist. One man threate
    I           ns to have her deported Even though she w
N           as born in New Jersey.    America the free....?
K         I drink coffee with my parents in the morning, My
C          Dad's daily dose of poisons called  Fox and Friends
O     Hannity  The O'reilly Factor  Cause my ears to bleed.
    F   They say that while not all Muslims are terrorists All ter
      F   rorists are Muslim.    They use religion as a scapegoat
          E  What they don't know isThese radicals do the exact
             E same thing. I drink coffee by myself in the afterno
                 on. Somewhere, during that time Personality Ru
                  pert Murdoch blames all Muslims for terrorism.
                   He says they all must take responsibility for t
                     his "cancer". Then must I, as a Christian, tak
                      e responsibility for the KKK?  Must I, as a
                         member of your religion, Rupert, take
                           responsibility for your ignorance?  I
                             stand in solidarity with these Mus
                              lims who would never rip a hair
                                off my head or a bone from m
                                  y body.  We can do without
                                    people like you, who mak
                                        my coffee taste bitter.

A muses

The man.                        lady doll
Na ****.                         Lodi da

Na man.                           Not on
Na man.                           Not on

Assume              h.          e  mus task
The muse.                          Her
Position.                     ­       Project
Of noise.                     Sound

We all were bums and walkers through hell or we are children yet to recall
these tales, trails better marked than Hansel could imagine marking on his own.

We agree, words are well spent:
to buy tears to place the final bit of salt into the sea, in remembrance of passing over and passing through on hands and knees and standing, comforted,
beyond the door.
woe, woman, concha weep for me…
doncha
weep for me
I been beyond the door before I knew there's no knocker on this side

Mus'be more'n one door, one to knock and one to open,
beyond which are you?
Beyond the knocked on one am I.
I carry my own value as gravity determines things,
weigh that for what it's worth. Worthy, eh, what it's worth as a skill,
worthship, citizenship, partnership.

Der er simpelthen bare ikke nok;
Ikke nok penge på min konto
Ikke nok mad og vand til mus og mænd
Ikke nok mennesker som siger hav en god dag
Ikke nok øjeblikke hvor jeg er tilfreds
Ikke nok aftener på en weekend
Ikke nok timer i døgnet
Ikke nok sommer om året
Ikke nok tydelige stjerner på himmelen
Ikke nok cigaretter i en cigarretpakke, og ikke nok tyggegummier i en tyggegummipakke.

Jeg kan virkelig få nok af alle de ting, der ikke er nok af.

Beginning (introduction)

In the dusk hour, they lay there shattered and broken
Just like these words, yet theirs are unspoken
May I write their songs and their poems
Just so the people of the world will know them...

I. The Truth Of the World Can Be Seen In an Eye

...The dead, the living, and the unknown
Look before you, the world is shown
We're corrupted and don't welcome change
For this is the world of stubborn and strange
The lies are before you in different labeled doors
Of "our" choices whether it's peace or war
It's all propaganda, it's all spoken lies
Only to be heard before Everyone dies
So what is your decision, what is your choice
We are the people that mus sound our voice
To fight for what we All believe in
And let the real freedom we want begin
'Cause this is how it shall end
It'll be the end of you dear friend...

II. Dead Man's Ode To God

...I stood before the Lord
I prayed, he opened the door
Into internal damnation
Of our own salvation

I stood before the Lord
I gave my heart for the golden shore
And thy sinful ways
Brought even darker days

I stood before the Lord
He was real, I was sure
Then people lied, and people died
And in the end, all did cry

So here I stand before the Lord
Just a terrible ending I got for
Playing, giving, until I die
To find the idea of God is just a lie...

III. ...And There Will Be Guns and Whips

...Cry another tear
Run from another fear
They're coming tonight
Scream if you see the white
I don't want to be a slave
Lord, can't we be saved
From skin color discrimination
In the new nation
Where everyone's free
Except for you, you, and me
We shall toil in dirt
In the cold, hard Earth
Because they're too lazy to do it on their own
Or maybe because they can't do it alone
Why must we suffer for generations to come
Because they can't see that we're all one
So we shall die under the American sun
In a nation that will never be one...

Must
the wild inside be
ashamed
for trust
I tried but cannot
claim

Lust
-y lying little
brain
Fussed
because I was to
blame

Mus
-ter up a bit of
confidence
to see you with another

The wild inside
simply must
be tamed

Or
maybe I shouldn't
bother...

Blizgučiais žėri šiąnakt dangus
Kaip tamsa jis apgobs mus
Tačiau tavo šypsena - tokia graži
Ji tempte tempia į sapnus

Kur mes bėgam senamiesčio takais?
Ko taip lekiam išdegusiomis akimis?
Nutempk mane, gražioji mūza, į skersgatvį
Kuždėk svajones, mielus niekus, paslaptis

Mūza! Tu tokia kerinti
Ne, neliesiu aš tavęs!
Neteršiu tavo lūpų savomis
Tačiau tu neklausai manęs...

Kūnas prie kūno
Lūpos šilkinės - tokios godžios!
Paskutinį orą pavogusios, taria mano vardą
Jėgos apleidžia mano kojas

Tegu Vilnius užsičiaupia
Dabar ir per amžius!
Dabar tu mano
O aš tavo
Tikiuosi šiąnakt
Įkyrios akys pamirš mus

No Choice
Colorful life has become colorless
Oh my love, this is all your bless
On this juncture let me just confess
This is a pain endless,ceaseless

All colors mus fade this is beauty
Without reason without any plea
How can chained life be but free
I have just nothing left but with me

Let us accept the reality in entirety
We do not have any choice to see
Any coming eventuality in life sea
What ever the circumstances be

Col Muhammad Khalid Khan
Copyright 2017 Golden Glow

she have skinny leg
an’ knockin’ knees
she be cray-cray an’ loud
she defen’ her right to be
she drownin’ in chems ‘n’ high as a kite
she walk ever’where when she floatin’
she so ol’ she temptin’ fate
how she ain’ died is a mir’cle
Gawd mus’ reely love dat womun
‘zall I kin figger


c. 2023 Roberta Compton Rainwater

|----------------------------------------------------------------­-----------------------------
|                                  ­                                           cal
|------------------------------------------------------------­--i------------------------------
|  I                           ­                                 Mus
|---------------------------­-----------------------------------------------------------------­-
|      Miss    The                  On  The
|------------------­-----------------------------------------------------------------­----------|
|                          --Notes--                 ­                                      --Scale--

Its been too long since I played guitar

I've lost the will to live
But still I linger on

The deer at the Episcopal church
In the clearing at night the fawn

Seattle blue twilight
Seattle white the dawn

I'm tired, very tired
Was a woman often anon.?

Aye Go Gaga

Hey Play boy bunny,

(▒)(♥)(▒)

Are you tired looking for real dating partner like me
whelp...probably nada worth yar while spending precious
   time frittering away re:
ding tha following mish mash literary mush - we
ving, and bobbing, which iz meaningless mum bo pap agree?

(▒)(♥)(▒)


This poker face mwm 4 bad romance gamboling hall
ideal to suit up for a fun virtual cat and mouse chase
myopic eyes stare intently into cyberspace
folk kiss sing song snap chat ting
mine eyes fixated b4 ur image seconds erase
with an exclamation of eureka a ha -
u look familiar at least yar face
mebbe we both lived during same time centuries ago, eh
perhaps in adjoining caves some place
and/or dashed off the starting line of tha human race.
-    -    -    -    -    -    -    -    -    -    -    -    -    -    -    -    -
this yo dull ling josh hing glute max a mess aye n us
tooting ring ding oof a max i mus drake
haint named Bruce
boot ah do like the taste of cous cous
what the deuce
as i goose
whereby bull winkle the moose
n Natasha the squirrel plus otter creatures tink i lack mental juice
er purr haps goot a ***** loose
right duh gray matter of dis knit wit, the "infamous" they noose
sum hmm iz amiss from indigent guy lugged in papoose
cob bulled with whirled wide web
peppered with rotten green tomatoes -
prompting n immediate VAMOOSE
& find my rye ming ting ab
solute zero in chime with zee cuckoo
ready to call doktor demento ore Zeus.
-    -    -    -    -    -    -    -    -    -    -    -    -    -    -    -    -
thus, this friendship introduction
will mutual ideally nada blow
based on ma unseen essence of body, mind
& soul more so than dough
i.e. money, which tends tubby superficial criteria
viz assess worthiness to flow
toward greater comprehension akin to garden
requires one 2 **** din ***
thus, this common non sloppy joe
maw owl ease keeps tim self i.e. ya know
a contemplative sort & writes ha low
crossing fingers immediate aversion arises,
yet an emphatic "no"
toward me would be taken in stride per this poe
it, whose ability finds comfort within simple pleasures
of life while invisible one that doth row
this creaky human vessel occasionally
calls out for big tow.
-    -    -    -    -    -    -    -    -    -    -    -    -    -    -    -    -
mebbe as a d liver e purse son
2 supplement social security income
(this disability 4 generalized anxiety)
within me gray matter doth lay.
-    -    -    -    -    -    -    -    -    -    -    -    -    -    -    -    -
although (mentioned for noah particular rhyme nor reason)

of heterosexual tendencies, my inner sanctum affected

by unkind actions towards those,

who (by choice, genetics, fondness,

or environment) steer clear of the madding crowdsource

who (as a rather skinny diminutive boy - and average emasculating

asia meister wordsmith) experienced constant taunts.

no matter that  me very late mother (who passed away from

ovarian cancer some decade plus two years ago) encouraged me to

give the bullies a WHAT FOR (in that era kids could pummel

without reprisal),  but fear kept me back,

viz the brutish nasty monsters zeroed

on countless vulnerabilities such as being affected with blatant

nasal tone when talking,  extremely shy,

and undersized physique honed - fallacy

sensitivity to others differently abe bulled

or others, who hapt to be fair

game sans being gay or lesbian for instance.
-    -    -    -    -    -    -    -    -    -    -    -    -    -    -    -    -
can be accurately ascertained, this archetypal nonestablishmentarian
introspective individual attempts to affect exultant image
with words my (ahem) pen ultimate aim.
yet all the while trying
to steer clear enduring wagging virtual finger in blame
neither at this fellow via x 'cept able dame
chance circumstances of existence akin to being frozen
in some space/time paradigms frame
attempting extricating ourselves a lifelong game
which message offered in poem rather lame.
-    -    -    -    -    -    -    -    -    -    -    -    -    -    -    -    -
email moi, which means
applying cerebral muscles 2 flex
fire off a brief bull a tin

or mebbe u wanna drop me a lion by zoo
per doo purr postal service, si from you.

Okay.

(▒)(♥)(▒) - pose crypt:

death tomb he iz a permanent good bye

though, when me mum passed i only did cry

for about one week - cuz resentment did not die

within me, yet toward me octogenarian widower dad

who during tumultuous prepubescence a fie

re: cold war raged,

which deprived "dad" tune oh his guy

now grown (with two adult daughters) says "hi"

allows emotional connection, cuz - lesson learned late -

need to communicate sentiments today, lest they lie

dormant, and return with a vengeance after grim reaper

doth exuberantly and well nigh

whisk a family member, friend, neighbor...away on the sly

thus - even if the wording nada so perfect, the effort to express

heartfelt feelings well worth a try

thus, every mortal shares this bitter irony of life

forever asking being born only to pass away

(vis a vis via whatever faith) why...?

As we become older
The way miss our life
Is our life.

           - Anonymous

-Ar nori pasivaikščioti kartu su manimi miške?
-Gerai.

Smaragdo žiežirbom pasipuošusi žolė kutena kojas
O medžiai virš galvos patyliukais apšnekinėja mus
O vis dėl to graži ta srauni upė
Nors ją matau ne pirmus metus

-Ar nori kartu nueiti į kiną?
-Gerai.

Takelis eina tiesiai link miesto pakraščio
O naktį veidus apšviečia premjeros reklama
Filmai nauji, jų išleidžiama be galo daug
O pokalbių temos nesikeičia

-Galim į restoraną nueiti kartu?
-Gerai.

O sakyk, ar ryžiai nuo mėsos skiriasi?
Tiesa, skonis kitoks ir aroma kita
Tačiau aš sėdžiu su tavimi ir mėgaujuosi kompanija
Kažkaip nepabosta man ši rutina

-Eime?
-Eime.
-Dviese?
-Dviese.
-Ačiū.
-Nėra už ką, nes su tavimi esu ir būsiu visada.