I sit down
On my privileged white boy ***
Spinning around in my black chair
And think of a poem to write

How could I not think of anything that I can write about?
There are so many topics and problems of the world!
Love
Hate
Drugs
Alcohol
Adolescence
Birth
Death
******
Retribution
Revenge  
Racism
Sexism
*** in general
****
Feminism
****
The one percent
The ninety-nine percent
Books
Poems
And many more but I'll break down why I can't think of these

Love
Cliche topic
Written my say about it
Already
Already have so many poems
On that topic
I don't wanna do the boring old
Topic tonight

Hate
Now there's a topic I haven't covered
But like love
It's cliche
Skip that for tonight
I don't have a say on the matter now
Other than I hate people who don't like me

Drugs
I've never touched a drug
I've met people influenced by drugs
But not that well
Can't write about
How good they are
Maybe how bad they are
But I don't know people well enough
Who can teach me how bad they are
So I'll move along

Alcohol
**** I'm lame
A poet who has never
Gotten drunk once
I'm a shame to the poetry community

Adolescence
It ******
Girls didn't like me very much
My crotch itched all the time
Wanted to *******
About twenty times a day
A different day to write about that

Birth
Don't remember it
I've had rebirths
But I don't think that counts

Death
My grandma died!
Oh, but I didn't know her very well
It'd be quite false to lament
That much about it

******
Why even bother
Never murdered
Have wanted to ****** on plenty of occasions
But only to the extent that everyone else does
Not interesting enough
Next

Retribution
O.K well I can talk
A lot about that
But not in the mood

Revenge
Isn't that similar
To retribution?
Why'd I even list that?

Racism
I'm white
Can't get much better than that
I get socioeconomic benefits
Which makes me a pretty lucky guy
And plus
If I were to be called a *****
On the streets by a person
It really wouldn't ruin my day

Sexism
I'm a man
I get the benefits of being a man
More pay
More respect
Yup got nothing to write about there

*** in general
Well I'm a ******
Ain't I pathetic
So unless you want
A sloppy description
Of how awesome it feels
To get my **** wet
Then I'm not gonna bother

****
I've never been *****
And I'm a pretty strong guy
In general
I've never experienced ****
Nor known someone really well
Who has been *****
And it's pretty obvious
**** is bad
So there isn't that much else
To say about it

Feminism
I agree equality for women is awesome
Equal pay
Equal respect
But I think changing the spelling
From woman to womyn
Is a bit bizarre.....
To touchy a topic
Don't wanna lose the female audience
No writing of that tonight

****
There's a lot of it
Out there
Most people agree
That it disrespects women
And desensitizes men to the
Idea of ****
So I really don't have
Much to add in this matter
Other than to not really use it

The one percent
They're rich
They make more money than you
We learned in economics
If we had total equality
We wouldn't be efficient
Although at the same time
More middle ground should be made
I'm sure they aren't greedy *******
In total though

The ninety-nine percent
They have every right
To be completely angry
But I already covered them
In my last poem
So ***** that for tonight

Books
Who doesn't love to pick up
And read a good book
But why change it to a poem
Doesn't that **** with the writer's
Original intention and could scope the message?
Shouldn't we leave it to the lit crits to take care of that?
I think it does
I'll move on

Poems
I think I'm already talking about that

The same song looping over and over…
The same suicidal thoughts torturing my sanity…
Repeats accruing on infinite piles of ruble,
Vigorously fighting these thoughts,
These demons of mentality,
A constant cartwheel of emotion…
Always racing…
Not ceasing for a mere second…
Forcing the pill in my mouth,
And then another,
And another…
The only mental painkiller is death…
I feel numb,
Darkness seeps into my vision…
Blurring reality…
The Pain is going away…
I feel alive as I feel myself die…
Emergency Medical Squads break the door down…
I sit there,
Watching them cycle electricity into my body as I blindly stare,
Eyes not moving,
Weak,
You never came.



I want to tell you I love you until it becomes white noise…
Always knowing I love you,
Never doubting yourself again…
I want to make love until we are one…
My body and yours…
Sharing the night, and day…
Filling senses with pleasure and love…
I want to hold you until you are weightless…
A feather in my arms…
Carry you up to a safe place on a dark night…
I want to love you forever…
I want to love you till stone itself evaporates into the air as it boils underneath the red giant sun…
I want to love you when the Universe rebirths or collapses…
I want to love you when the bell tolls,
The bell does not mark the end,
It will never end,
I will love you always,
Forever,
Not stopping even for a supernova…



No matter how lovely, how vivid, how colorful the painting…
Toxic fumes are given off,
The closer you look the more cracks and flaws you’ll find…
No matter how soft the wood, how elaborate the carving,
You can’t even begin to feel all the splinters…
All the cuts,
The closer you get the deeper the grooves…
This rusty drain has grown clogged of emotion and dust…
Wonderful you say…
But that is just for now,
Today.
My past is dark, dead, rotten,
Who knows if the future will be any different.
Today I have a moment of peace,
You,
A bright blue gem shining in the darkness,
So pure it becomes it’s own light-source,
Echoing beauty throughout the blackness,
Illuminating me,
True Commitment,
Warm and sweet Love,
Unquestionable Trust,
Seraphic Beauty,
Everything I need…
I sit here questioning these words…
Thinking of the purest way to put them,
But emotion is not pure,
It’s *****, rough, and raged,
But when I talk to you that emotion turns into something different,
It turns into satisfying warmth that runs through my body…
The past evaporates into the air,
Dispersing and losing its importance,
You are my future,
Not the past.

It all started here;
Some thirty students-
Minds controlled by their puppeteer,
Walked in clueless

My mind came colorful, progressive-
Only my beliefs sprouted!
The seed had already been expressive
Just- the stem was clouded

The renaissance fertilized the soil
Dry, cracked, barren, deprived;
Destitute of the benevolent oil-
Used to awaken thoughts: revived

But what truly blossomed my bud-
Were the French philosophes,
Who's blue, liberal blood-
Solidified my leftist approach

I have always been the optimist;
Through many deaths and rebirths-
I knew it wasn't the apocalypse,
And instead kept the beauty of earth

Because I filled my life with fascination,
My opinions bloomed:bright and rich.
The rain could not cleanse my veneration,
Not to a diety, but to my democratic itch

My petals are strong to hold bees-
Who cannot fly or make honey
It's my civic duty to fight this disease
That in life- one is subject to money

However, I am not just one of Paine's flowers,
I am an independent with liberal powers.

deep in the meadow
as all rebirths within in the sun
in the midst of early spring

darkness is descending
and beneath the fallen raindrops
i am the only nonliving thing

filled up with enmity coiling up inside
The chest billows up
Thy want to heave it out
Then destined to tranquility

The claws scratch the flesh
Death gnaws on the remnants of longevity
Unless visions have a chest
To burst out into effervescence

Spontaneous sigh is kicked out of your breath
The clavicles sharpen, the eyes ogle ahead
The nothingness dilates
The flicker has no entrance for itself to adumbrate

For utopia has its own gore
To marvel over inside,
The plasters of bliss
Have guffawed over the gullible dusk

The gloom has left with a whisper
A muttering not to be heard
The relief has sewed on flesh
With the clouds coming out of thy outburst

The relief rebirths the serenity
Has been meandered, halted
For thou shed leaves
Making agony to clouds of no return

Utopic defiance,
the idiosyncratic anectodes
Stains of externalized innundation
For the literal existance of hope.

Keep close her in the Winter Breeze,
And her warm breath’
Will keep your soul and body warm,
With her quite mourning of sudden deaths,
And her humble celebrations,
Watch, as her desolate darkness,
Gives life to prolific rebirths!

By: Nida Mahmoed.

An initiation
And suddenly, everyone has your back
24/7
This is a beautiful thing
It seems
So why
Doesn't it happen in church?

Baptism
Is an amazing thing.
It renews
Restores
And rebirths.
It's an initiation into the kingdom
So why don't we do it the way
Gangs do?

I'll always try to
I'll bend my schedule
But I can't always
Break it.
But I'll try.
Call me.
Text me.
Email me.
Throw a brick through my window
With a note.
Contact me somehow.
I'll do what I can.
Because I want to be
In Jesus' gang.
And I want to be there
For you.

He wears, with me, the charms of love,
exchanging gentle whispers in storms
of fascinated, trembling union.

He shares with me blue velvet nights
of careful and unmeasurable bliss,
and titivates modest morning rebirths.

He cares for me, reproof us not, we make
no show of virtue, or counterfeit innocency,
but partage, in comfort, this open honesty.

A spontaneous creation unmatched,
to create a conversation is not a  plan that can be hatched,
it happens without you know it had began,
and it ends and rebirths without knowing it can,
like a different show but all the actors the same,
it cant be loud nor tame,
but afterwords you feel proud,
because it happened,
and something inside of you was tapped in,
to be able to share something that is hard to do,
a spontaneous creation in lieu,
of you being human.

Where have i been?

What have i seen? at the outer reaches of my minds universe?

well  , some of it is so dark that it is made up of the stuff of the nightmares we bathe in
sos

save our souls
the calls reached all the way out there but i got lost in my own madness
and that place as wonderful as it is

well i am all of those deamons too
so
i guess now we are even and we've settled our scores
because we die daily in our ritual rebirths

i saw the sand of time fall to pieces
and explode into a million different ways of being
and i saw all the fractures like mirrors in a fairground

i saw myself in all my different guises
as a mistress
as a husband
as a butcher
as a teacher
as a student

and still i have not found the enlightened ground
but i have
i saw it before
in a flash

and the roket fuel for this intergalatic trip i've just returned
is and was and continues to be nothing more than the love of one man

even if he doesn't think so and that i do it allmyself

well i couldn't have done any of it
if i didn't know that i'd see him again sooner rather than later

and lets see what we can acomplish by sunrise then

it's a dare

it's a date

it's a chase

and maybe i'm addicted
but maybe i'm not
and maybe i'm a fool
but maybe i'm not

and maybe as i slip into my new / old skin
i understand for the first time my power

to ****
and to grow

and even if
there is no time
and we float like endless clouds across the sky
i know i still speak with nature
and maybe it's just another day
and maybe tommorow it will all go away

but i
am a dj
and i am a god

and i will not stop

untill this world sees peace
and hears it too

i will play on
untill eternities sunrise sets
no matter what comes my way

so goodnight
and fly well

may all your wishes come true
and may all your hopes feel

You were a rock for us,
I saw you as a lifeless rock recently,
Emotions grappled my throat and tears rolled down like a stream,
An embodiment of warm radiant love, sleeping in dry ice.

You used to be sitting by the passenger seat,
When I took you for dialysis in the mornings,
Today you were sitting there too,
Except you were inside a ***,
I had to do the final rites,
Seeing you in ashes and bones,
I realized about mortality and trivial matters,
Reciting for Lord Shiva to ensure you have the proper path above this earthly plane,

You left at 61, you had many more years in you I believe,
But you had fought and struggled long enough,
I hope we have done you justice,
I hope your soul is now at peace,
Flowing smoothly like the river,
The river where we scattered your mortal remains,
I’ll tell Lord Shiva to ensure you have a flowered path where your feet are no longer in pain,
On that path to your eternal rest, where you no longer need a wheelchair.

You were an exceptional wife, mum and woman,
A strong individual for every single day of it,
You have not cooked in a long time but I'd always remember the smell of your dishes,
You were always the one with practical guidance,
A generous heart that was always smiling and entertaining the little ones.

Ammama's siblings attended the wedding,
And they also witnessed a funeral,
‘Padpu’ mama  helped tie my veshti for my wedding,
Little would we know he’s gonna’ help me again at a cremation site,

You had a small dinner at the hotel reception,
Ironically, you passed your last breath at the opposite hospital 2 days later,
Emotions choked us all,
And only time can soothe us now,
We can only hope now,
That you will be simmering within peaceful and harmonious moments.

We love you Amma,
One love of my life left as another love of my life came in,
I'm ever grateful for the presence of loved ones around,
I hope you don't have to incur rebirths, but that you remain in eternal rest,
Watching us from above,
With unconditional love.

- In tribute to my late dear mum, Madam Sivaneswary Maruthavanar (25.03.1955 - 12.07.2016)

strolling down the shivering lane of rainbow of trees that seem to be the same color...
Red, yellow and orange
seems like a pattern that never seem to stop till some one pushes all its leaves away.
pick, pick
one by one slowly swaying with baby wind swings
that dances with it sway dance
singing to a melody
these bright colored leaves once a lime green
fade into a mist of various different shades of color then die once again into a mold brown that gets swifted away by the snow
and rebirths in spring to explore its expirnces different ways as it reborns each day

i need rain
to soften this parched earth
where i stand.
too many dry seasons
and cold nights,
and i am wanting.
shower me with compassion
a tender touch, a song,
a whisper.
i need water infused into this soil
sprout a seed
gasp some air
birth.
hold my hand and tremble
the rush of life coming forth
to consume you
till you break your dam
and flood me
my hunger,
completely.
pour everything you have on me
i will bring it back to you
heat rising
water pregnant with affection
to scatter again in thousand rebirths an endless cycle.
torrential rain is what i need
bring your clouds together
and fill me up
i ache for your water
i am waiting
i am wanting
rain.

It’s a new rule, I just instated it.
Saves me from the same mistake.
Getting stuck on that girl is dumb luck,
The rest is history she got me here.
Just to please her
Just to squeeze her

I have to look into your eyes to find it.
But then I realize its romantic,
So I offer every piece,
Of mind, body, and soul
Sacrifice
For the love I owe.

But love poems that rhyme have no reason.

Hard pressed to find a love so clear,
Love becomes seasonal.
Summer love
Love falls
Winter rebirths and spring it’s found
Yet questions remain
Should we love?
Does it rhyme or reason?
Or will it follow true form and be blind?
I don't know but love poems shouldn't rhyme.

From sunrise to sunset to sunrise again.

The truth on why we stay awake

May linger within the very nature of our breath

May very reflect the nature of the wave

For these night are set upon the stones

Of our light rebirths

From the very nature of unconditional love

Is where im speaking from

Light floats on so clear

On the feelings that seem to be real

And the fire its just burning there teaching us to stay aware

The memories of our time

Roam around in this endless conciouss mind

Seeking what in this life drives us all here

Sitting in this car?

No other reason for which I can explain

Than the need to seek the love within

This very root appears to be getting hooked

Between all my fellow phsycadelic spooks

Finding fulfillment

Withing the very sound of air

For we have started to rebel

And then draped in your cloak
shimmering like the dark night
hair streaking past your eyes
them leaves across the wet moon
when you turn looking back at me
I can believe in a hundred rebirths
and die breathing like the sun at dusk
drowning in the distant sea
bleeding across the horizon
mourned by the gulls
Senora, I don't know you
and yet I do, friend across the ages,
here we meet again

a stiff lesson in letting go.
a fastball to the chest.
an image of death
approaching on his warhorse.

got a lot to accept about catch
and release,
about the karmic patterns chasing me.

i'll eat my own tail before i acknowledge
history is repeating itself.
a recursive curse
of love unreturned,
rebirths.

dizzy at the sight of my own bleeding/bleating heart,
i howl in frenzy and
deny i was bit by a werewolf
in the new moon's dark.

am i as translucent,
as you are opaque?
does my breath feel like an earthquake
as i quiver at the sound of your name?

nowadays,
i am sure of nothing
more than my spinning.
your elusive grin
pins me to the wet dirt of august,
and dares me to chase you all over again.

a lesson in walking away.
a slow burn in the stomach.
a never-ending plummet
into this fever-dream's abyss.

Buoys up she from the sea I sail
What poetry can’t address
She serves me well.

The sailor’s misery she knows
His journey’s perilous waves
A rope for me she throws
Dragging to shore she saves.

Watches over her caring face
Suffers the navigator what distress
Resuscitating with her sweet breath
The mariner dying from illusive myth!

This way she rebirths me
Down on earth from the high sea
And till is regrown the sailor’s wings

We talk animated of life’s small things.

My dreams have always
been writer's dreams: colorful,
vivid, ironic,

visionary and
heavy with foreshadowing.
My early twenties

a sodden nightmare,
drinking away love, children,
family and home.

In dream of chaos,
Spirit I had not yet met
led me down the Way

I had been choosing;
brought me to its granite-cold
game-over ending.

Read my name, saw the
year of birth, but was taken
before I could read

the full final year.
But it began with nineteen.
Waking, shivering,

I could still feel the
achingly frigid tombstone
beneath trembling hands.

Despite the warning,
I carried on as I had,
fearing, ignoring

my destination.
Time was too short in my life
to be concerned with

anything except
living as I ****** well wanted.
Kept suffering deep

and often, wondered
about those friends who shook their heads
at me, and kept theirs.

Came the day when the
wonderful awareness awoke
the Spirit in me

to receive the love
the Universe had flooded,
floated, immersed me

in my entire life,
as I slaked my thirst other
ways. I drank my fill

of freshened water,
the first of many rebirths.
Pulled to solid ground,

slowly by slowly
I stood on my own again,
learning how to live

as the child I was,
adult in years, juvenile
in thought and action.

Sixteen years along
my journey brought me to a
terrifying day:

The thirty-first of 
December, modern era
nineteen ninety-nine.

I went home early,
away from Amateur Night
revelers driving,

and locked myself in,
calling friends and asking them
to call tomorrow.

I watched the ball drop
for the first time in many years...
and cried like a fool.

My Way is not yours,
and can never be.  My time
since is borrowed time;

I sign off on the
loan every morning I'm here.
Eastern spirit has

burnished my tarnished
soul, shining not removing
the dents and scratches

it's picked up during
the trip. Why Oriental
forms? You might have guessed.


Why write of Spirit
and of flesh?  Both are with me
as I carry on.

I must share borrowed
time for it to have meaning.
Blessed I am, having
found a place, a peaceful spot
and people with which to share.

I've hit a half-court shot,
And missed a lay-up,
I've been hired,
And fired,
I've loved and lost,
And lost the love,
I've seen deaths,
And rebirths,
I've tasted a snowflake,
And a ****** lip,
I've seen an underdog triumph,
And a champion dominate,
I've been underestimated,
And overrated,
I've shook a welcoming hand,
And waved a sad goodbye.

my destiny with you must’ve been pre-written,
everything falls into place at a pace so lovingly,
the natural joy of creation has led to us, and us to it. 
creating these moments of bliss i often reminisce about,
no matter the memory, big or small—
it shall be remembered for the rest of my all. 
twitching with excitement for the path before us, unknown to any, 
even us,
the one thing apparent is our smiles and joy. 
euphorically gorgeous, you’re my favorite haze to get lost within. 
slowly enveloping my mind, body, and existence so benevolently,
as i with you, we practically fuse— like clouds and white smoke crossing each other’s paths. 
for half a moment we’re indistinguishable, together as one we run in complete unison;
synergy so polished and perfected i mistake us as you, or we as me. 
woe is me when that moment fully passes—
back to togethering apart, longing for your mist to kiss mine once again. 
/
the sensation of familiarity i feel for you hasn’t diminished since we first met, and it has me wondering.
what if we’ve met before —
in our previous life,
as previous people,
but with this same adoration?
what if everything lined up so perfectly in our previous, just like it did in this current?
i’ve always wondered what the reason for that may be;
maybe in our first incarnations,
we fell in love so flawlessly, and shared a lifetime of joy and laughter and love and peace,
we were able to do everything we set our minds toward,
our wealth was astonishing,
we traveled the world,
we completed bucket lists and had minuscule worries. 
and as we got old and gray, all we could do is look back fondly—
“but what’s ahead?” we wondered. 
what new experiences will we miss because of the limitations of our bodies?
and so it happened, our first promise,
with the intertwining of our pinkies followed by a kiss on the thumb, we push them together and close our eyes.
“we’ll always be together, even in our next lives.”
afterwards we continue the rest of our days in tranquility, 
thinking of the contract we forged as nothing more than a sweet sentiment. 
a promise that we wouldn’t know if upheld by the other or not, 
because what is life after death if not the afterlife? 
nobody knows, therefore our promise was heartfelt, but bitterly hollow, 
or so we thought. 
we didn’t consider the overseer of the contract,
the one who watches life after death bloom anew in new times,
the universe. 
the universe remembers all,
so what if it remembers the very first of our all,
and continually rebirths us and realigns our paths after an incalculable amount of times prior and after—
and watches us fall in love over and over and over again?
a primordial love that stretches out as far as the universe does, 
all happening simultaneously before or after us. 
…just a thought tho

When you're ready,
and not a moment before
Set your bones down in the
Water of my love
And Drown in the succour
Flowing there
Til your lungs are heavy
With the weight of a heart
And the currents that jolt through
your skin
Are a reminder of the concert it beat
for you

There, we will let the dead things go,
To be washed away by the tide
of our two streams colliding
In a flurry of consciousness and
ecstasy;
Like the moment of revelation
Like a thousand deaths
and Rebirths

And we will breathe
At last,
with sopping lungs and dripping bones,
Raw and aching and utterly
Filled to the brim with each other,
Overflowing with electricity and
thunder
But
Only when you are ready
To shed the armour of your skin
And drown.

The heart burns
Acidic fluctuations
Desire’s frustration

How can it be so hard
To find someone
To love and be loved by

To slide my hand
Down the curves
Of her jaw
To pull her close
To kiss softy
And hardly
In tandem
To speak deep
To think well
And compliment
Gaps in understanding

I see the world become
A cycle of love
And loves lost
Deaths and rebirths
Even drug dealers and murderers
Find the full passion of love
In love struggling to find their place
Together

I am a shade
Walking just outside
Of loves touch
It is my own fault
I laid the bricks
Of my own isolation
And instead of cracking
Their sad foundation
I perpetuate such frustrations
Alone
To smart for my own
good

some nights ago I fell to dream
your face in frost completely -
from head to toe in fact, you strolled
towards me - your silk-paved march,
my winter beauty.

I grazed your cheek confused in fear,
you blazed my chest, your eyes so near
"my dear?" I said, "why do I cry | why do we die
so faintly?".
"such love" you say, "rebirths in tears."
words sung in C succinctly.

some moments fade in our embrace
they melt like flakes of snow, longed to
disappear.
we too so melt in boundless trust,
our blessed friendship to
endear.

I ask "what if this ship gets lost to sea,
how will I find my sweetie?".
you just hum in me, a song I knew
so soft & sweet -
so saintly.