Dear Friends. My poem Hussain has considered one of the best poems by the critics and is appearing in many poetry magazines in America and Europe.  It has been considered   fit to be included on Global poetry page by The Heart of the Global Poets. I am receiving lots of comments from western intellectuals ,asking me to write more and   tell more about Hussain. I am happy that many western scholars even atheists are appreciating this true spirit of Islam. One of my friend rightly said while  commenting  on the poem that  RELIGION WITHOUT SACRIFICE IS LIP SERVICE.


HUSSAIN
Matloob Bokhari

Spiritual struggle continued against despots;
Declaring all humanity one source, one God,
Abrahamic prophets rose against tyrants.
Father of Islam jumped into furnace of ******,
And wielded his mace to destroy his idols.
Moses with staff stormed Pharaoh's palace,
And brought down the powerful Croesus.
The prophet of Islam was friend of paupers;
Friend of those nobody greeted with salaam.
A slave stood in front of nobles in Ghoba,
But ignorance, soon, replaced revolution.
Under black ashes of defeat, smoldered
Red threat of a potential explosion.
Those who sold their souls ,used religion
As an instrument to suppress humanity.
Ideas were paralyzed and beliefs destroyed.
Man started suppressing in the name of God.
Man started killing in the name of religion.
Power of the tyrant with sword, deception,
Brought a pall of stifled silence upon everyone.
Income from taxes from Rome, Iran and Arabs,
Spent on Green Palace fairer than in fairy tales;
On Iranian musicians with Roman dancers.
The great revolutionary had died in Rabazeh.
Remaining brought under lashes of dominance.
In this age of suppression and black dictatorship,
Some crawled off into the niche of the mosque,
No hoot of an owl was heard in the ruins of faith.
Hussein emerged from sorrowful home of Fatima,
And rebelled against the  most dissolute oppression.
Struggling through glorious power of faith,
Inheritor of the movement, launched by prophets.
With no army, no weapons, no wealth, no force
Left Makkah to meet death - ornament for mankind.
Death as beautiful as necklace around neck of a girl.
Quran his arms, Prophets’ customs shield, faith defense.
Hussain, heir of Adam, sacrificed his friends and his sons
On the threshold of temple of freedom and altar of love.
Holding blood , flowing from throat of his son in  hands
Requested his Lord to accept this sacrifice .
This innocent death protected great Revolution.
On evening before Ashura, Hussain- a lonely man
Washed himself, put on best clothes, used perfumes.
Requested his sister to remember him in prayers.
Inheritor of patience from Prophets; valour from Ali
Finally embarked on voyage to meet his Lord.
Hussain, victim of revival of 'Neo-ignorance' age,
Has been concealed by the greatness of Hussain.
Logic paralyses, mind perplexes to read the sacrifice.
In flow of river, flowing on is movement of Hussain
Yazid died, his rule ended, Hussain died, his rule began.

I sat alone another day.
The world was moving all around me,
but it seemed as if my life was in a standstill.
The doctors say its anxiety.
Everyone thinks anxiety means nervousness or fear,
but it is deeper than that.
Anxiety holds you prisoner.
You can't leave your house.

Ding
****
Ding
****

The doorbell rings but I can't answer.
There is too much fear inside.
You can't answer the phone.

Ring
Ring
Ring

"Telephone for you!" my family yells. I
tell them to say that I will call back, but I won't.
You can't eat.

Chomp
Bite
Chew

No, not me. The anxiety
even controls that. All the pain rushes back up with
every little thing I eat.
You can't go out.

Step
Step
Step

Everyone walking around me, but I can't move, the
apprehension paralyses me.
Everyone says, "Be brave. You can do it. You'll make it out of this."
But sometimes I wonder if I will.
I try to combat it all, but if I attempt to do anything,
it all starts over again.

Thump
Thump
Thump

My heart beats faster and faster.
I can feel it in my chest.

Beads of sweat
Racing
Falling
Running down my forehead.
All the thoughts swarm in my brain.
The fear picks up.
It is unbearable.
I'm so frightened, but I don't know what of.
The paranoia sweeps over my body like a giant wave.
Every day I have to fight what seems to be a losing battle.
But then . . . I look outside.
I see the colours.
I see the life.
I see spirit.
I know I can do this.
Hope.
Fight.
Win.

Every day I wait
is just another day waisted
yet Im caught in a web indecision
I fear that If I initiate the change
the change I think I want
when It comes to be reality
it wont be as I thought
and that change I'll come to regret

So the fear consumes me
paralyses me, ***** me dry
just as a spider does to a fly
so what the **** am I to do
I'm being stretched like a rubber band
soon I must snap

Woman child, man child, Kidadults
I hear your voices, I feel your pain,
I was pushed on the tracks you walk
I see the sorrows of the known and unknown days
the hopelessness of feeling insignificant
the destitutes of needs unmet, wants unattainable
the searing pain of the unsupported, the pitiful cries unheard
the anger of mediocrity, the stupefying lull of mundanity
that shaming feeling of feeling disrespected and unworthy

I can appreciate your rages and outrages
the compulsion to lash out, to hate, to get back at them
the frustrations that begets violence, the creeping disillusionments
the insecurities, the fears, the paralyses, the absence of stability
that pervasive feeling of inadequacies of minds unfulfilled
the crazed tensions that always sits at the door and gnawed often
the need for escapisms, to drink and live recklessly atimes
the pain that bornes rejections of cooperation with those others
the sheer horrors that make you think the world is against you

But I've been one of you even before I was made one of you
I come from the capital of Suffering, paid fees at Adversity alley
I too know what it's like to go hungry, to do without
Know what it's like to yell in frustration and bemoan my lot
while the wealthy kids swarmed around with foreign goodies
I know the humiliation being barred from class and school lessons
because my school fees were late in coming and being laughed at
but I had parents who gave tough love and bred worthy sons
and values to work hard, stand tall and respect your name

Don't look at others, be positive, be the best you can be
be helpful, be polite, be kind and fear your God but nothing else
you are a man, go like a man and never ever take what's not yours
Be grateful for what you have anf thankful for the privilege
Yes, I had breaks, but I stand knowing I earned from my sweat
and nothing was expected or given or taken for nothing
so Yes, I know suffering and hardship ain't going to break me now
No woman, I was bred to care for, love and provide, *****, they are not for ****** release, or comforter to abate my pain or strifes
Loneliness is nothing, I have slept in dark forest and quiet beaches
I have faced darkness and fears that would traumatize older men

Destroying me achieves nothing other than glorify inhumanity
there will always be talented people who seem to have more
these days the're few elitists only does who took opportunities
If you want to change the palaces, do a Megan Mackle
Be good enough to marry inside and change lives from within
Hating privileged serves no purpose other than reinforce them
You can bring the walls down from the inside better than outside
Hate destroys the haters, why court cancer when love cures all

Woman child, man child, Kidadults
I hear your voices, I feel your pain,
I have walked the tracks you walk
I know well the sorrows of the known and unknown days
I can talk the talk and walk the walk
I have done it more than any of you born in the West.....

Your cold print is
Solidified in ink.
Black or blue?

Indelible, your death-
Grip upon me paralyses my pen.
Irretrievable, unreliable us.

Numbness blots out positivity and
My uncertainty dries bright.

Through the paralyses desert
We walk. Dodging kings and cobras
Rattling snakes and all the foul beasts,
That thrive in this hellish waste.
Ecstasy from the mannerisms of less worthy beings.
Who are they to decide what an individual’s
Strengths and weakness are!
Mind ones tongue when speaking to,
Satan’s hood.
Chilling grasps of a hot dark angel’s face
Hold me to earth at even the highest
Of gravitating peaks.
Eroded rocks once mountains, now pave our
Unseen roads lost in decaying,
Concrete and steal jungles made by the men
They ****. Unworthy are any of us
To describe ourselves for never knowing
Who were, only what we could have been.

To the now estranged friend,
I am writing this with a heavy heart. That was a lie. I am merely writing this. I do not feel any emotion towards it. I do not feel any emotion at all.
Maybe saying I'm tired would count, but no, that is a feeling, a physical state. I still feel, but not emotions. This is what happens when the faculties of the heart are ripped from it and its role is reduced to monotonous beating. I should talk to it more. You should talk to yours more.

I bet you feel lonely,  I bet you can't stand being alone with yourself. Don't worry, you're not alone in this. I bet you feel depressed. I did too. That was a lie; I do not feel depressed, I cannot feel depressed, I am merely tired. You should examine yourself from time to time, it look at yourself from all angles - gives you a good idea of where you are and what you need to do, it may even allow you to come to some terms with your depression. I bet you are afraid. I was afraid.
I was afraid because I could so clearly foresee my own life rotting away of itself, like a leaf that rots without falling, while I pursued my round of existence from day to day.

I've come across two types of depressed people in my life, the ones who are depressed because the things that they valued in life are falling apart, family, marriage, school, a good job, the death of their favourite flower, whatever you value, whatever.
The other type are often depressed because they lack a meaning in their lives, they wait for day to turn into night so that they can sleep away or distract themselves from the dreadful question of what they lived for that day or what they'll live for tomorrow. It is often this kind of depression which is cured by anti-depressants. No, "cure" is not the right word. Anti-depressants do not bring meaning to your life, they simply sooth the suffering and make you forget it for a while, until you, once more, realise the lack of meaning in your life. What's even worse is that you don't know what you're suffering for, I mean you have everything you want, so why are you sad? And what's the point of making up new desires for yourself and wasting money on them just to find out that they don't help?
The shame makes it worse, you can't hold your head high because you feel yourself ungrateful, you feel guilty, you begin to loath yourself because you think that you're being ungrateful and there is no reason to be sad - but you just can't escape it and as each day passes it paralyses you even more, either emotionally, psychologically, or physically.
This may even make you want to jump into the river, meaningless suffering is worse after all. Suffering ceases to be suffering when you give meaning to it, it becomes bearable, hell it may even cause you to make something out of your life and cure you.

I do not claim that what I will tell you will get rid of your suffering, it is only you who can do that, but I shall say it either way, so that it may help another.

I have learnt there to be three avenues in one's life from which one can derive a sense of meaning.
1) In a creation - we see ourselves reflected in what we create, be they paintings, music, pottery, poetry, letters written to people who'll never bother reading them, and in experiences which we create, for ourselves and others.

2)  In events, I am sure you may agree that there will occur events in one's life which will completely transform them, be it for better or for worse, these events also may help bring meaning to that life for they add colour to it so that the painting in the end is not too monochrome or too colourful - just right. These events can be falling in love, marriage, death - yes, it is true, one may realise what they lived for all those years only in the final days, hours, minutes, or even seconds of their life - that is when you can see your life's image whole.

3) In the attitude we take towards unavoidable suffering. I have often thought this to be most important of all, how you choose to react to your suffering may in itself contain the meaning of your life, the meaning you give to your suffering . Do not be ashamed of your suffering - it is not a competition so do not compare it to that of others, everything seems insignificant compared to the grand scale of things.  As Victor E Frankl said: "Everything can be taken from a  man but one thing: the last of the human freedoms - to choose one's attitude to suffering in any set of given circumstances."

However, allow me to note that you should not seek suffering, believing that it will give your life some meaning - that will just make you a *******. Moreover, I think it must be said, meaning is not a static value, it does not remain the same for the rest of your life. It is something that must change - like every single other thing - if it is to remain.
One day you may wake up and see that a beautiful flower has bloomed in your garden, that may become your new meaning in life - to care for it, to be with it and admire its beauty, to love it.

Back down the million mile road
down south again, buildings
familiar love, fashionable stones for throwing
across the Thames, office fields, floating stocks,
driving to the train rythm of city gulls and movement,
eager, bored, and feral, but
you’ve gotta choose your home…

London-queen of
mimetic ceremony
silhouettes cornered in pristine rooms,
finer than the attire of imagined skin, remembered and felt,
classic
projected
films
moving
into one line
of crowded parade,
stepping to
and fro, dressed differently
every time

the city and i- we
head to a shop
that puts a crate of beer
on my shoulder,
and a better drunk than us both
asks me for one

i say:
“sure man, take one”
and i offer him my smoke too,
“take it, just made it”
we add,
“ah! you’re Captain Scarlet!” he tells me
as the man sings the theme song and rewards
me
with a dance.

And sometimes the sickness and poverty of it all
helps
and its ok
tell me that after two breakfasts land down,
for a while, and two tumours laugh
in an empty car park
at the same thing.

The name for god always changing,
some days a digital
word,
sometimes
a bird stood upon a lamp post
at 10:16,
the way
someone smiles,
the science behind welcoming,
cancer guns
and the engravings
on the handle,
that you care for more
than all the dry sweat
night dripping,
the kind that paralyses
insomnia
and rises from your bed
outside your mind,
again:

that familiar smile.

We won’t be a salary in the morning,
we’ll be a Magritte, or a Picasso
at the weekend,
we’ll stand in front
of artists dead
and see no difference
between lamb, now roasting-
and the experiment in seasoning,
that you, or I
added

there’ll be a non-charging cash point,
counting sounds
that are lost in chaotic uncares,
and if my lights go out at 4am,
whilst we’re linked,
the vat
will at least
be made of us

the androgyny
of burnt climaxing sky line
will be clear through the polluted hive line
of buildings,
we’ll be wearing hooded macks
in the rain – sliding between still light
and shadow,
crossing the intersecting lines
of humming traffic
and unheard noise
we’ll pass without tickets,
as they fall from the bridge,
and the edge lifts away
from our feet

and the rest goes underground,
behind ageing tunnel wall of aging
graffiti skull -
tracks nulled by snow in winter,
body late, perspiring -
pouring peddle down, response
automatic,
eyelid better for counting
time, than opening eye -
synthetic wait for for any fire
that is kind,
raising corners that blink
in false dream

our seven seeming tied, and untied, bonded,
and unbonded,
gropes untied with hunger,
the sky kicks in the brick walls slaying the hours
with calls from strangers and friends
indifferent-

one.
-
two.
-
three.

seconds
and faces.

(and the city hates slowing down
doesn’t (s)he?)

until its ready that is,
the only joke being to wait and drool over corpses and post mortem like
thought the place being in your heart and the ever-glow being the same
as any love that you feel and the way you need it to take you forward
and just let you ride the and forget that its there because I’ll die
before I stop acting on my instinct for you the ever-gloom and the skull can unwind elsewhere! Oh the poison
that forgets itself if only needing the same formaldehyde
to keep it still-

That’ll do.

…

Perfection is a woman without eyes.

Perfection is a man without limbs.

Perfection is the home that walks you back when the day is yours,
and someone elses.

Perfection blinds the crippled mask.

Beginning.

One that fits your birth.

Your death.

All of the ****
islands.

All
of the ******

****

islands.

I have just felt
the blow
that a god feels
when he is first returned
to mortality

not to say I am,
or ever was,
a god
but I do mean to say
I was powerful,
strong,
impenetrable even,
and I have now been hit
with the force of a hurricane
across the newly soft
and vulnerable
cheeks of my
face

I had risen so far,
in my mind,
but I was worse
than ever
as I’ve found
out

now,
I am sick with it

the return to humanity
the plummet to vulnerability
the paralyses of that first
strike

I am a titan no more
and yet I never was

but this fall back to normality
is like the death of someone
I only realized I hated
after his grave
had been spat on
by so many
of his former
friends

Crossed wires of me
might be the
Margaritas?
Or the servility
   I bow, non-willingly,
to societal norms?
   I am healthy, physically,
just a swimmy head
   and lots of gas bloating
I swim floundering
at time to times,
  But, not guilty
I feel
   passionate dreams notedly
defy me particularly
        when I accidentally rhyme.
So conflicting
  this non-physical malady,
Paralyses like a Greek tragedy,
Sophocles, I need so badly,
   to diagnosis me.

There are days
When I walk out of the studio,
Disappointed with my performance,
Because today fear, not dance,
Made me finish the steps on time.
I can't mug up steps at the flick of a finger, you see.
I admit I have been lazy about self-practice.
I bet no one dances as beautifully
As I do in my visualizations
And some days I do amaze myself
As I perform the routine.
But when fear cripples me,
Paralyses my arms and limbs,
I wince at the instructor's polite rebuke
I knew it was coming.

The song is replayed,
Batchmates cheer
I wake up
My passion frees me
As I leap into the routine with a
5! 6!, and 5, 6, 7 AND. . . !!

The  melody in my head
keeps haunting me
hurts my heart
injures my brain
paralyses my body
erases my sense of belonging
stop at once..
I hate this song...
The lyrics my pain
the rhythm my scar
its bleeding again...

So many can never find the words, the feelings,
because if they speak, what they know
It becomes a solidified highlight reel,
and not just a spiel, a tale told in the confines of safety to a person with a ticket that transforms them into the audience.

They devour the reel of desperation and despair,
The hurt child deep inside that starts through the mind, and leaks through the pours of your adult body, it paralyses you with fear, ruins your relationships, destroys the peaceful nights and waking moments.

It slaps you with a ghost hand and phantom pain, reaching from the past to remind you in the present that it still lingers,
they are still there  and they always will be, that it is their job to inflict pain.

Just one moment, one semblance of safety, is when the person with the ticket shows up to your screening, reaches for that ghost hand, and instead of twisting and pushing it away like you always beg, plead and scream to do
they grab the hand, hold it and say:

"This trauma is real, not a show, not a highlight reel, I will guide your scenes, your desperate cries and pleas, and I will help your child heal"

is it wrong to plan everything out
so that the stars don't collide when they align?

is it wrong to be terrified of the road ahead, even if I trust the driver?

is wrong to seize everything and make sure I am where I am supposed to be?

no matter what
i find myself
piddling through all my thoughts
my hopes and dreams
my wishes and desires
trying to find the one that paralyses me the least
but they all petrify me
just the same.

this next year is my last.
my last band camp.
my last marching band season.
my last first day of school.
my last new set of classes.
my last time meeting new teachers.
my last time sitting in those classrooms with those stupid desks that creak too much.
my last time walking through the halls of my high school.

it's coming. soon.
graduation.
i can taste the freedom it's taunting me with.
and yet here I am, begging it to procrastinate.

i want to be free, away from high school,
and home,
and this state.

but I've made a life here.
but I've made friends here.
but I've grown roots here.

maybe
eventually
i'll be okay
with
ripping

off

the

bandaid.


but not right now.
not right now.
not right now.
not right now.

Please don't forget me darling, I'm so far away from you,
I'm here in the desert, fighting for what I feel is right,
No matter where I am, no matter how far apart we are,
You haunt me in these nightmares, that pollute my mind at night.

So as I stand here, on the edge of an abyss,
I wait to hear your voice, it frees me from this hell that I... am living in.
And although, you cannot hear me cry, I weep for you,
I cry these tears of sorrow, for the love that I have lost,

I feel as though you've left me, and that I'm all alone,
Deserted and lonely, in this Godforsaken country,
As the fighting rages on, I cover my head and cry,
Wishing that I could be, in your arms tonight.

The battle rages on, bullets flying all around, the **** has really hit the fan,
And we're all going down... at last I find the courage, to peek out from the hole.
What I see, paralyses me with fear, I'm the last one left. This is the end.
I gather up my gun and ask the Lord for forgiveness, for the sins I have committed.
I'm sorry for having killed thee, or for causing thee offence.
I was just doing my job, for the country that I love.

I am just a soldier.
Who would do it all again.

There's the sort of fear
that
paralyses
your body,
and
the sort of fear
that eats at you
from the inside out,
until your smile wavers
and the truth starts to show.
There's the sort of worry
that
plays on your mind,
and the sort of worry
that
ruins your mind,
turns it rotten
and blinds your eyes,
so there's no colour left in your isis
and all you see is black.
There's the sort of hope
that seems
like a light at the end of the tunnel
and
the sort of hope
that is essential
and is the last bit of rope
for you to grip on to
before the darkness eats you whole.
There's a type of
pleading
that means
"Give me the last cookie",
and there's the sort of
pleading
that means
I'm begging.
Please,
please,
please.

Grandmama holds grandpapa's hands tightly
They are weak, they are cold, they are wrinkly...
What an ugly sight to see....
Unbelievable...
All the years that passed
It seems like just yesterday
when ...
The same hands holds hers
and ties her hand with a knot..
on that blissful wedding day
when she wears her diamond wedding ring..
so proud ...so gay...
two hands hold each other
never will let go of one or the other...

The same hands that carries
commitment and duties..
the solid sweet years spent...
The hand that used to be so strong
is numb... is dumb...
paralyses with time...

Salty tears drop on grandpapa's pillow
the silent tears of one faithful grandmama...
as she whispers.. "I LOVE YOU"...
to her snoring husband...
who no longer feels but seeks her existence...

Till death do us part.....

~Sharina~

I am amazed at the beauty of the earth's Glorious wonder
As I sit in silence and ponder
I look up to gaze at the wide blue yonder
As the Golden glow of light appears upon the glittering water
The Sun bathes the earth
Showing all of humanity its worth
I was embraced by nature's peace and serenity
Feeling free like nothing is holding on to me
While I was captivated by this breath taking scenery.
And Through The warm grained sand I waded
Until i found a spot where I could relax my mind and let the stess of life become faded.
Feeling elevated
The Divine spirit left my soul impermated
With the sensation of Feeling exhilarated.
And then I felt Something dustrub my tranquility
Over taking the peaceful canvas indefinitely
Its almost as if the Sun fearfully hides behind the clouds that surf across the wide gloomy skies
And Darkness overtakes the light.
As if all suddenly the day immediately turns to night and my soul is filled with anxiety and freight
The Thick black ominous clouds were bellowing in from the east and west.
And I could feel my heart rapidly beating from the middle of my chest.
The thunder roared
As the The rain heavily poured
the lightening struck the sky furiously.
Almost as If God Spoke Angrily.
As I just prayed Softly
The wind Howled like wolf
Then the wind Swirled around and around from the sky to the ground
like a child first leaning how to draw with a crayon and scribbles away
Drawing in a circular motion leaving behind smudges of grey.
Its a storm brewing in my pathway
Do I stay or run away
His road seems a little rocky
But I just wanted to speak life joy and peace into his cold heart and body.
But I never knew he would leave me in a state of being melancholy.

This Tornado is on a Rampage of Destruction
Making it hard for my brain and heart to properly function
This Disater paralyses me and knocks into a concussion.
I thought I heard his voice and mines fussing
But it was My heart, my soul, and my brain that were having a discussion
Leaving me in the blank space where all I can hear and see are all the thought in my head that were rushing.
I went numb feeling Nothing.
Entangled and trapped in his gravity.
Being drained ny his bad engery.
This is what it happens when our 2 worlds collide.
My happiness, my joy and strength has just died.
As the tears turn into a river streaming from my face That I cried from keeping all theses Emotions bottled up inside.

Your silence
Moves me in ways your words never did
Your silence
Destroys my speech
Paralyses my thoughts
Provokes my tears
Undoes me.

As the days unfold
I forget how we sounded
Your silence
Dements me
Your silence
Makes me question
Makes me wallow in despair.

I make hasty decisions
Say things I shouldn’t
Your silence unwomans me
Makes me violent, makes me rage

You brought me here
Against all reason
Wore me down
Dangled me on a string
Until I broke
And now you abandon me
Silence engulfs me

Far away, where you are
Do you imagine me silent
Or are you clapping your hands over your ears
To block out my screams?

Minnow problems.

Never have I seen so many pentagrams.
Visions of the cross are tangible.
Yet the willows bend, fold and cross in unholy manners,
patterns.

My eyes close.
A moment ago they were open and burning.

From the prairie's apathy, the infirm stand strong on the jagged mountain.
Their skin and hard husks weathering the gusts.
Their numbers fall with the every grumble of those wet shiny aberrations.

Miles above, the delta beckons.

Farther below, the road's beginning with its paralyses and warnings of excellence.

Opens wider.

A pile of soil, collected daily.
The farmers rub their square white teeth in confusion.

The universe with nothing beyond. When she thinks of death, she is sad.
There is pride knowing there will be nothing.

During the panel, her words of unobservable importance betray her.
Betrayal found with the ski mask and semiautomatic.

The singularity is denser now. Collapsing as memories of the father echo.

They echo in her *******.
In the residue that falls onto her *******.

Finding whole helixes without the tools to measure them.

Speaking little of anything.

Never have I seen so many pentagrams. 
Hung silver, some in coarse thread. 
Thread still thin but not thinning. 

The wind blows. 
The pentagrams stay steady. 
Never wavering or moving as an ocean. 
Seductive stillness yet to be determined if satisfying. 

The cross above the suburbs is tangible. Yet the willows fold, bend and move in unholy patterns and manners. 

My eyes close. 
A moment ago they were open and burning, forgotten realms. 
A love affair with fantasy. 

From the prairie's apathy, the infirm stand strong on the jagged mountain. 
Sagging skin ***** over the husks. 
Weather the gusts. 
And the time it takes to say for certain. 
Their numbers fall with every grumble from the wet and shiny harbor.  


Miles above, the delta beckons. 


Farther below the road is beginning. 
With its paralyses. 
And it's warnings of approaching excellence. 

A pile of soil collected daily. 
The farmers rub their square white teeth in confusion. 

The universe with nothing beyond. 

When she thinks of death, she is sad. 
There is pride knowing there is no ever after, there is nothing after. 
I am sad. 

During the panel, words of observable importance betray her and flee.  
Betrayal found with the black mask, the semiautomatic fire and the only man who could make her ***. 
The singularity is denser now. 
Collapsing as memories of the father spark the misplaced tinder. 

They echo along her ******* and fall as the residue pools in her *******. 

Finding helixes without the tools to measure them. 

Speaking little of anything.

Your eyes ogle at me
 Like two skies from close-up
 And like a huge azure ocean,
 That swims from your head to my feet...
 It paralyses me with the waves
 Of your gutsy glances-
 They go under my skin
 And flow past my flesh and blood
 To scan my self... and ...then...
 You usually win when I close my eyes...


Your existence paralyses me.
I can feel your presence from miles away.

Your words break through my ribs
to find a place to pull.
As I would pull you closer,
if only you were here.

I fear sharing your breath.
I am dependent on your arms.
As I lean closer
I know you will feel my weight,
too heavy for this life,
if life should be a feather
whilst a knife dangles above my head.

And what if you could stop me from drowning?
Lift me of this place where the world is muffled and dense
What if you could raise my head above the sparkling surface?

I would feel the sun beating down on me,
with the air as pure as summer.
And with you, reality might suffice,
for once.

Sitting in the dark waiting for the light
Tears flowing down you’ve been up all night
Remembering the way you felt all those years ago
Desperate to hold on never letting go
The pain and sadness come flooding back
It paralyses you like a bad heart-attack

The sun was a little brighter and colors were more vivid
Wishing to go back to the life you once liv-ed
The innocence is gone but not all hope is lost
Dream, believe, love and don’t count the cost
They say the first step is the hardest, though I think
It’s easier to walk with someone if you start to sink

A companion for the journey someone to hold you close
Tell you it is okay and be a supporting dose
You will never be all alone you never were before
You will never find happiness and peace if you try to keep score
Let my light go before you and may you find a friend so true
A Guardian Angel to be there always for you

When skies are grey and hope seems far away
See a smile that turns up a sunny day
When heart is heavy and frozen in fear
Love will drive it out let love live here
There is so much more to life than what you see right now
Keep moving forward, we’ll make it through somehow

The sun is on the rise a new day is starting
Joy and hope appear as the clouds are slowly parting
Today is the first day of the rest of your life a new beginning
So dare to take a step out and you’re already winning
I can see clearly now a light in you brighter even than the sun
Take heart my dear for great are things to come!

Melancholic melodies fill the atmosphere
Suddenly it starts to gloom
So does my thoughts
Old memories came flooding in
Stuck in an eternal loop
Flashes of your face here and there
Paralyses me wishing it didn't end
Always coming home to you but you're never there
A room that was fill with your laughter has now gone silent
I know it's been awhile since we met
Please don't make it hard for me
I've suffered enough
I know I shouldn't be doing this
It's tempting to press call on your name
You've changed
You've moved on
Goodbye

Fear is not just an emotion
but something that controls you.
It penetrates your mind.
It drives you insane.
You do whatever you can to stay away.

Some say it paralyses you
but this isn't true.
It winds you up,
it drives you wild.
You can feel the blood pumping,
the adreneline making your body shake
from head to toe.

Others say that its a superpower,
if only this were true.
You don't feel strong but weak
like every muscle is focused upon one thing
to run away.

Fight or flight they say
but the fight is washed out.
Giving up seems the best option
but that isn't one.

No one will prepare you,
no matter how you are trained
when you feel that first wave
its like a splintered sword.
The splinters stay deep inside
and causes pain and burns
when you move,
when you fight,
when you fight,

A heart so troubled and in doubt
Not sure, what life is all about
She feels invisible yet she sees herself
When she looks into the mirror

People tend to pass her by
Refused the lips of any guy
She soothes herself by wishful thoughts
When she dreams all by herself

She speaks of love and passion
In such an ordinary fashion
As if, she has encountered
The love of another

Massive pain, at times, paralyses
A body of rejection, only she realizes
She dances solo once again
To a song that only, she can hear

Her body parched, a thirst for affection
Her painful heart, desires protection
If only she can be embraced
By the hands of someone else

Its only her hands that she finds familiar
Its only her own eyes that can see her
She longs the company of anything other,
Than the fantasies inside her mind

Copyright @sheryllinhayes
If Life Was Made on Canvas

you tell me that I should fear the world
but I can’t
just don’t want to,
I’ve feared absolutely everything,
even my own shadow,
my whole life
and that hasn’t led anywhere.
Fears paralyses us,
and I’m sick of living paralysed,
stuck here.
I watch you slaved from your fears
and I really really really don’t wanna be like that.

There’s beauty out there, you know?
I grew up, you know?
You want me to be under your roof
but that feels too cold
and I really don’t wanna be alone.
I wish you just wished to see me happy
but that never felt like enough for you.

Pain in the head, again feeling gripped
Fears of another burst coming one day
Returning memories of leaks being clipped
Paralyses my mind in a terrifying way.

Shouldn't have happened, why the hell was it me?
But then, why not? Could be anyone see!
And I recovered fully anyway
To live to fight another day.

©JRW2014

Fear is strange. As a concept it motivates you, a driving force, as an emotion is paralyses you. The fear of being unable to move in itself makes your muscles work. Flexing. Clenching. The need to run. Escape. But you can't. You can't move. There's a war going on between mind and muscle, and in this conflict I am the only casualty.

I've always been running, never bothering to throw breadcrumbs behind, but I never knew what I was running from.

One morning, she grabbed me in her sleep, as if I was the only solid thing in the room, maybe in the world...

I never asked what she was dreaming about. I didn't reach out to her. Fear.

The day she slammed the car door behind her as she got out. It was embarrassing how annoyed I was. How absolutely, blindly ******* I was about it. I feel so bad about it now, looking back I feel bad about a lot of the **** we did, or I did, the pointless cruelty of it.

As I lie on the grass I feel the bladed reaching beneath my shirt. Itching. Every single blade of grass is blocking every single pore of my skin, as if insects are nesting. The air curves around my limbs, as if to accommodate for hers.

She must have felt it and a part of her must have felt more alive because of it. Isn't that such a cliche? Feeling more alive because you're dying. If you can see all of time folding in front of you, hear your past crash into the back of you... Would you break or put your foot down?

Her dress was that kind of orange colour that makes you feel slight sick if you stare at it for too long. It was funny the way the blood stains formed in circles. Perfect. Circles. Like a penny... It was still neat apart from a small tear at the hip...

She must have felt the ripple of the air across her skin as she stood there. It must have been like a blanket. Soft and cushiony. She could have wrapped herself in it. Protected herself.

Maybe she really did feel protected, by the air, from the fall. Maybe that's all anyone wants to feel. I don't think so, I stood there...

It was so black. Hard and hatefully black. I couldn't look down for long. It made me feel too small for the world. Everything grew around me, the pit spread out like a sheet beneath me, the air rippling, my skin itching.

It swallowed her. How could she stand there and not be altered by it? How could she walk away as the same person? Who would she be?

I move around the flat like a blind man. I don't know where the edges of anything are anymore. I don't know where the edges of my body start. The rooms are huge, so huge that even the silence echoes.

I feel inexplicably and overwhelmingly bored. People tell me how sorry they are but I've heard it all ready. People send cards with nice things written in them but I've read them all before. Every smell is the same. The perfume that lingers on her scarf is the same. I'll never be surprised again by the smell of something new. I will never smell anything except the last whispers of her.

All food tastes the same. All girls look the same. I stay the same. I look in the mirror and I can't believe how I still look like me. I can't understand why my heart is still covered by skin and bone and muscle when it's been ripped.... Ripped... Ripped out...

They told me that the platform was crowded, as they pushed styrofoam cups of **** brown water into my hands. 'Good' I say...

I've said the wrong thing again. You would think it would be people saying the wrong thing to me but it isn't. My mouth doesn't work in relation to my brain anymore. There's a delay, a time difference...

As I stand there, my heart eats itself, my lungs clench, my muscles twitch and the urge to take one more tiny step takes over my veins like a virus.

The speakers are broken but the woman's determined, in case it was an accident, in case she didn't know,

'High speed trains through this station.'