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Michael R Burch Sep 2020
Urdu Poetry: English Translations



You will never comprehend me:
I pour out my feelings; you only read the words!
―original poet unknown, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch



Tears are colorless―thank God!―
otherwise my pillow might betray my heart.
―original poet unknown, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch



Near Sainthood
by Mirza Ghalib
loose translation/interpretation by Kanu V. Prajapati and Michael R. Burch

On the subject of mystic philosophy, Ghalib,
your words might have struck us as deeply profound ...
Hell, we might have pronounced you a saint,
if only we hadn't found
you drunk
as a skunk!

There are more English translations of poems by Mirza Ghalib later on this page.



Every Once in a While
by Amjad Islam Amjad
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Every once in a while,
immersed in these muggy nights
when all earth’s voices seem to have fallen
into the bruised-purple silence of half-sleep,
I awaken from a wonderful dream
to see through the veil that drifts between us
that you too are companionless and wide awake.



First Rendezvous
by Amjad Islam Amjad
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

This story of the earth
is as old as the universe,
as old as the birth
of the first day and night.

This story of the sky
is included in the words we casually uttered,
you and I,
and yet it remains incomplete, till the end of sight.

This earth and all the scenes it contains
remain witnesses to the moment
when you first held my hand
as we watched the world unfolding, together.

This world
became the focus
for the first rendezvous
between us.



Impossible and Improbable Visions
by Amjad Islam Amjad
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Eyes interpret visions,
rainbow auras waver;
similar scenes appear
different to individual eyes,
as innumerable oases
coexist in one desert
or a single thought acquires
countless shapes.



I Have to Find My Lost Star
by Amjad Islam Amjad
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Searching the emptiest of skies
overflowing with innumerable stars,
I have to find the one
that belongs
to me.

...

Gazing at galaxies beyond galaxies,
all glorious with evolving wonder,
I ponder her name,
finding no sign to remember.

...

Lost things, they say,
are sometimes found
in the same accumulations of dust
where they once vanished.

I have to find the lost star
that belongs to me.



Last Night
by Faiz Ahmed Faiz
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Last night, your memory stole into my heart―
as spring sweeps uninvited into barren gardens,
as morning breezes reinvigorate dormant deserts,
as a patient suddenly feels better, for no apparent reason ...

There are more English translations of poems by Faiz Ahmed Faiz later on this page.



Intimacy
by Rahat Indori
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

I held the Sun, Stars and Moon at a distance
till the time your hands touched mine.
Now I am not a feather to be easily detached:
instruct the hurricanes and tornados to observe their limits!

There are more English translations of poems by Rahat Indori later on this page.



Strange Currents
by Amir Khusrow
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

O Khusrow, the river of love
creates strange currents—
the one who would surface invariably drowns,
while the one who submerges, survives.

There are more English translations of poems by Amir Khusrow later on this page.



The Eager Traveler
by Ahmad Faraz
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Even in the torture chamber, I was the lucky one;
when each lottery was over, unaccountably I had won.

And even the mightiest rivers found accessible refuge in me;
though I was called an arid desert, I turned out to be the sea.

And how sweetly I remember you—oh, my wild, delectable love!—
as the purest white blossoms bloom, on talented branches above.

And while I’m half-convinced that folks adore me in this town,
still, all the hands I kissed held knives and tried to shake me down.

You lost the battle, my coward friend, my craven enemy,
when, to victimize my lonely soul, you sent a despoiling army.

Lost in the wastelands of vast love, I was an eager traveler,
like a breeze in search of your fragrance, a vagabond explorer.

There are more English translations of poems by Ahmad Faraz later on this page.



The Condition of My Heart
by Munir Niazi
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

It is not necessary for anyone else to get excited:
The condition of my heart is not the condition of hers.
But were we to receive any sort of good news, Munir,
How spectacular compared to earth's mundane sunsets!

There are more English translations of poems by Munir Niazi later on this page.



Failures
by Nida Fazli
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

I was unable to relate
the state
of my heart to her,
while she failed to infer
the nuances
of my silences.



Apni Marzi se
by Nida Fazli Shayari
translated by Mandakini Bhattacherya and Michael R. Burch

This journey was not of my making;
As the winds blow, I’m blown along ...
Time and dust are my ancient companions;
Who knows where I’m bound or belong?

There are more English translations of poems by Nida Fazli later on this page.



My Apologies, Sona
by Gulzar
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

My apologies, Sona,
if traversing my verse's terrain
in these torrential rains
inconvenienced you.

The monsoons are unseasonal here.

My poems' pitfalls are sometimes sodden.
Water often overflows these ditches.
If you stumble and fall here, you run the risk
of spraining an ankle.

My apologies, however,
if you were inconvenienced
because my dismal verse lacks light,
or because my threshold's stones
interfered as you passed.

I have often cracked toenails against them!

As for the streetlamp at the intersection,
it remains unlit ... endlessly indecisive.

If you were inconvenienced,
you have my heartfelt apologies!

There are more English translations of poems by Gulzar later on this page.



Come As You Are
by Rabindranath Tagore
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Come as you are, forget appearances!
Is your hair untamable, your part uneven, your bodice unfastened? Never mind.
Come as you are, forget appearances!

Skip with quicksilver steps across the grass.
If your feet glisten with dew, if your anklets slip, if your beaded necklace slides off? Never mind.
Skip with quicksilver steps across the grass.

Do you see the clouds enveloping the sky?
Flocks of cranes erupt from the riverbank, fitful gusts ruffle the fields, anxious cattle tremble in their stalls.
Do you see the clouds enveloping the sky?

You loiter in vain over your toilet lamp; it flickers and dies in the wind.
Who will care that your eyelids have not been painted with lamp-black, when your pupils are darker than thunderstorms?
You loiter in vain over your toilet lamp; it flickers and dies in the wind.

Come as you are, forget appearances!
If the wreath lies unwoven, who cares? If the bracelet is unfastened, let it fall. The sky grows dark; it is late.
Come as you are, forget appearances!



Unfit Gifts
by Rabindranath Tagore
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

At sunrise, I cast my nets into the sea,
dredging up the strangest and most beautiful objects from the depths ...
some radiant like smiles, some glittering like tears, others flushed like brides’ cheeks.
When I returned, staggering under their weight, my love was relaxing in her garden, idly tearing leaves from flowers.
Hesitant, I placed all I had produced at her feet, silently awaiting her verdict.
She glanced down disdainfully, then pouted: "What are these bizarre things? I have no use for them!"
I bowed my head, humiliated, and thought:
"Truly, I did not contend for them; I did not purchase them in the marketplace; they are unfit gifts for her!"
That night I flung them, one by one, into the street, like refuse.
The next morning travelers came, picked them up and carted them off to exotic countries.



The Seashore Gathering
by Rabindranath Tagore
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

On the seashores of endless worlds, earth's children converge.
The infinite sky is motionless, the restless waters boisterous.
On the seashores of endless worlds earth's children gather to dance with joyous cries and pirouettes.
They build sand castles and play with hollow shells.
They weave boats out of withered leaves and laughingly float them out over the vast deep.
Earth's children play gaily on the seashores of endless worlds.
They do not know, yet, how to cast nets or swim.
Divers fish for pearls and merchants sail their ships, while earth's children skip, gather pebbles and scatter them again.
They are unaware of hidden treasures, nor do they know how to cast nets, yet.
The sea surges with laughter, smiling palely on the seashore.
Death-dealing waves sing the children meaningless songs, like a mother lullabying her baby's cradle.
The sea plays with the children, smiling palely on the seashore.
On the seashores of endless worlds earth's children meet.
Tempests roam pathless skies, ships lie wrecked in uncharted waters, death wanders abroad, and still the children play.
On the seashores of endless worlds there is a great gathering of earth's children.



This Dog
by Rabindranath Tagore
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Each morning this dog,
who has become quite attached to me,
sits silently at my feet
until, gently caressing his head,
I acknowledge his company.

This simple recognition gives my companion such joy
he shudders with sheer delight.

Among all languageless creatures
he alone has seen through man entire—
has seen beyond what is good or bad in him
to such a depth he can lay down his life
for the sake of love alone.

Now it is he who shows me the way
through this unfathomable world throbbing with life.

When I see his deep devotion,
his offer of his whole being,
I fail to comprehend ...

How, through sheer instinct,
has he discovered whatever it is that he knows?

With his anxious piteous looks
he cannot communicate his understanding
and yet somehow has succeeded in conveying to me
out of the entire creation
the true loveworthiness of man.



Being
by Momin Khan Momin
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

You are so close to me
that no one else ever can be.

NOTE: There is a legend that the great Urdu poet Mirza Ghalib offered all his diwan (poetry collections) in exchange for this one sher (couplet) by Momin Khan Momin. Does the couplet mean "be as close" or "be, at all"? Does it mean "You are with me in a way that no one else can ever be?" Or does it mean that no one else can ever exist as truly as one's true love? Or does this sher contain an infinite number of elusive meanings, like love itself?



Being (II)
by Momin Khan Momin
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

You alone are with me when I am alone.
You are beside me when I am beside myself.
You are as close to me as everyone else is afar.
You are so close to me that no one else ever can be.



Perhaps
by Momin Khan Momin
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

The cohesiveness between us, you may remember or perhaps not.
Our solemn oaths of faithfulness, you may remember, or perhaps forgot.
If something happened that was not to your liking,
the shrinking away that produces silence, you may remember, or perhaps not.
Listen, the sagas of so many years, the promises you made amid time's onslaught,
which you now fail to mention, you may remember or perhaps not.
These new resentments, those often rehashed complaints,
these lighthearted and displeasing stories, you may remember, or perhaps forgot.
Some seasons ago we shared love and desire, we shared joy ...
That we once were dear friends, you may have perhaps forgot.
Now if we come together, by fate or by chance, to express old loyalties ...
Our every shared breath, all our sighs and regrets, you may remember, or perhaps not.



What Happened to Them?
by Nasir Kazmi
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Those who came ashore, what happened to them?
Those who sailed away, what happened to them?

Those who were coming at dawn, when dawn never arrived ...
Those caravans en route, what happened to them?

Those I awaited each night on moonless paths,
Who were meant to light beacons, what happened to them?

Who are these strangers surrounding me now?
All my lost friends and allies, what happened to them?

Those who built these blazing buildings, what happened to them?
Those who were meant to uplift us, what happened to them?

NOTE: This poignant poem was written about the 1947 partition of India into two nations: India and Pakistan. I take the following poem to be about the aftermath of the division.



Climate Change
by Nasir Kazmi
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

The songs of our silenced lips are different.
The expressions of our regretful hearts are different.

In milder climes our grief was more tolerable,
But the burdens we bear now are different.

O, walkers of awareness's road, keep your watch!
The obstacles strewn on this stony path are different.

We neither fear separation, nor desire union;
The anxieties of my rebellious heart are different.

In the first leaf-fall only flowers fluttered from twigs;
This year the omens of autumn are different.

This world lacks the depth to understand my heartache;
Please endow me with melodies, for my cry is different!

One disconcerting glance bared my being;
Now in barren fields my visions are different.

No more troops, nor flags. Neither money, nor fame.
The marks of the monarchs on this land are different.

Men are not martyred for their beloveds these days.
The youths of my youth were so very different!



Nasir Kazmi Couplets

When I was a child learning to write
my first scribblings were your name.
―Nasir Kazmi, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

When my feet lost the path
where was your hand?
―Nasir Kazmi, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Everything I found is yours;
everything I lost is also yours.
―Nasir Kazmi, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch



Memory
by Faiz Ahmed Faiz, as performed by Iqbal Bano
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

In the wastelands of solitude, my love,
the echoes of your voice quiver,
the mirages of your lips waver.

In the deserts of alienation,
out of the expanses of distance and isolation's debris
the fragrant jasmines and roses of your presence delicately blossom.

Now from somewhere nearby,
the warmth of your breath rises,
smoldering forth an exotic perfume―gently, languorously.

Now far-off, across the distant horizon,
drop by shimmering drop,
fall the glistening dews of your beguiling glances.

With such tenderness and affection—oh my love!—
your memory has touched my heart's cheek so that it now seems
the sun of separation has set; the night of blessed union has arrived.



Speak!
by Faiz Ahmed Faiz
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Speak, if your lips are free.
Speak, if your tongue is still your own.
While your body is still upright,
Speak if your life is still your own.



Tonight
by Faiz Ahmed Faiz
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Do not strike the melancholy chord tonight! Days smoldering
with pain in the end produce only listless ashes ...
and who the hell knows what the future may bring?
Last night’s long lost, tomorrow's horizon’s a wavering mirage.
And how can we know if we’ll see another dawn?
Life is nothing, unless together we make it ring!
Tonight we are love gods! Sing!

Do not strike the melancholy chord tonight!
Don’t harp constantly on human suffering!
Stop complaining; let Fate conduct her song!
Give no thought to the future, seize now, this precious thing!
Shed no more tears for temperate seasons departed!
All sighs of the brokenhearted soon weakly dissipate ... stop dithering!
Oh, do not strike the same flat chord again! Sing!



When Autumn Came
by Faiz Ahmed Faiz
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

So it was that autumn came to flay the trees,
to strip them ****,
to rudely abase their slender dark bodies.

Fall fell in vengeance on the dying leaves,
flung them down to the floor of the forest
where anyone could trample them to mush
undeterred by their sighs of protest.

The birds that herald spring
were exiled from their songs—
the notes ripped from their sweet throats,
they plummeted to the earth below, undone
even before the hunter strung his bow.

Please, gods of May, have mercy!
Bless these disintegrating corpses
with the passion of your resurrection;
allow their veins to pulse with blood again.

Let at least one tree remain green.
Let one bird sing.



Last Night (II)
by Faiz Ahmed Faiz
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Last night, your lost memory returned ...
as spring steals silently into barren gardens,
as cool breezes stir desert sands,
as an ailing man suddenly feels better, for no apparent reason ...

There are more English translations of poems by Faiz Ahmed Faiz later on this page.



Ghazal
by Mirza Ghalib
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Not the blossomings of songs nor the adornments of music:
I am the voice of my own heart breaking.

You toy with your long, dark curls
while I remain captive to my dark, pensive thoughts.

We congratulate ourselves that we two are different
but this weakness has burdened us both with inchoate grief.

Now you are here, and I find myself bowing—
as if sadness is a blessing, and longing a sacrament.

I am a fragment of sound rebounding;
you are the walls impounding my echoes.



The Mistake
by Mirza Ghalib
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

All your life, O Ghalib,
You kept repeating the same mistake:
Your face was *****
But you were obsessed with cleaning the mirror!



Inquiry
by Mirza Ghalib
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

The miracle of your absence
is that I found myself endlessly searching for you.



It's Only My Heart!
by Mirza Ghalib
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

It’s only my heart, not unfeeling stone,
so why be dismayed when it throbs with pain?
It was made to suffer ten thousand darts;
why let one more torment impede us?

There are more English translations of poems by Mirza Ghalib later on this page.



Couplets
by Jaun Elia
loose translations by Michael R. Burch

I am strange—so strange
that I self-destructed and don't regret it.
―Jaun Elia, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

The wound is deep—companions, friends—embrace me!
What, did you not even bother to stay?
―Jaun Elia, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

My nature is so strange
that today I felt relieved when you didn't arrive.
―Jaun Elia, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Night and day I awaited myself;
now you return me to myself.
―Jaun Elia, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Greeting me this cordially,
have you so easily erased my memory?
―Jaun Elia, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Your lips have provided thousands of answers;
so what is the point of complaining now?
―Jaun Elia, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Perhaps I haven't fallen in love with anyone,
but at least I convinced them!
―Jaun Elia, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

The city of mystics has become bizarre:
everyone is wary of majesty, have you heard?
―Jaun Elia, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Did you just say "Love is eternal"?
Is this the end of us?
―Jaun Elia, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

You are drawing very close to me!
Have you decided to leave?
―Jaun Elia, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch



Intimacy
by Rahat Indori
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

I held the Sun, Stars and Moon at a distance
till the time your hands touched mine.
Now I am not a feather to be easily detached:
instruct the hurricanes and tornados to observe their limits!



The Mad Moon
by Rahat Indori
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Stars have a habit of showing off,
but the mad moon sojourns in darkness.



Body Language
by Rahat Indori
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Your body’s figures are written in cursive!
How will I read you? Hand me the book!



Insatiable
by Rahat Indori
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

This mighty ocean, so deep and vast!
If it sates my thirst, how long can it last?



Honor
by Rahat Indori
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Achievements may fade but the name remains strong;
walls may buckle but the roof stays on.
On a pile of corpses a child stands alone
and declares that his family still lives on!



Dust in the Wind
by Rahat Indori
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

This is how I introduce myself to questioners:
Pick up a handful of dust, then blow ...



Dissembler
by Rahat Indori
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

In your eyes this, in your heart that, on your lips something else?
If this is how you are, impress someone else!



Rumor (M)ill
by Rahat Indori
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

I heard rumors my health was bad; still
it was prying people who made me ill.



The Vortex
by Rahat Indori
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

I am the river whose rapids form a vortex;
You were wise to avoid my banks.



Homebound
by Rahat Indori
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

If people fear what they meet at every turn,
why do they ever leave the house?



Becoming One
by Amir Khusrow
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

I have become you, as you have become me;
I am your body, you my Essence.
Now no one can ever say
that you are someone else,
or that I am anything less than your Presence!



I Am a Pagan
by Amir Khusrow
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

I am a pagan disciple of love: I need no creeds.
My every vein has become taut, like a tuned wire.
I do not need the Brahman's girdle.
Leave my bedside, ignorant physician!
The only cure for love is the sight of the patient's beloved:
there is no other medicine he needs!
If our boat lacks a pilot, let there be none:
we have god in our midst: we do not fear the sea!
The people say Khusrow worships idols:
True! True! But he does not need other people's approval;
he does not need the world's.

(My translation above was informed by a translation of Dr. Hadi Hasan.)



Amir Khusrow’s elegy for his mother
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Wherever you shook the dust from your feet
is my relic of paradise!



Paradise
by Amir Khusrow
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

If there is an earthly paradise,
It's here! It's here! It's here!



Mystery
by Munir Niazi
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

She was a mystery:
Her lips were parched ...
but her eyes were two unfathomable oceans.



I continued delaying ...
by Munir Niazi
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

I continued delaying ...
the words I should speak
the promises I should keep
the one I should dial
despite her cruel denial

I continued delaying ...
the shoulder I must offer
the hand I must proffer
the untraveled lanes
we may not see again

I continued delaying ...
long strolls through the seasons
for my own selfish reasons
the remembrances of lovers
to erase thoughts of others

I continued delaying ...
to save someone dear
from eternities unclear
to make her aware
of our reality here

I continued delaying ...



Couplets
by Mir Taqi Mir
loose translations by Michael R. Burch

Sharpen the barbs of every thorn, O lunatic desert!
Perhaps another hobbler, limping by on blistered feet, follows me!
―Mir Taqi Mir, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

My life is a bubble,
this world an illusion.
―Mir Taqi Mir, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Selflessness has gotten me nowhere:
I neglected myself far too long.
―Mir Taqi Mir, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

I know now that I know nothing,
and it only took me a lifetime to learn!
―Mir Taqi Mir, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Love's just beginning, so why do you whine?
Why not wait and watch how things unwind!
―Mir Taqi Mir, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch



Come!
by Gulzar
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Come, let us construct night
over the monumental edifice of silence.
Come, let us clothe ourselves in the winding sheets of darkness,
where we'll ignite our bodies' incandescent wax.
As the midnight dew dances its delicate ballet,
let us not disclose the slightest whispers of our breath!
Lost in night's mists,
let us lie immersed in love's fragrance,
absorbing our bodies' musky aromas!
Let us rise like rustling spirits ...



Old Habits Die Hard
by Gulzar
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

The habit of breathing
is an odd tradition.
Why struggle so to keep on living?
The body shudders,
the eyes veil,
yet the feet somehow keep moving.
Why this journey, this restless, relentless flowing?
For how many weeks, months, years, centuries
shall we struggle to keep on living, keep on living?
Habits are such strange things, such hard things to break!



Inconclusive
by Gulzar
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

A body lies on a white bed—
dead, abandoned,
a forsaken corpse they forgot to bury.
They concluded its death was not their concern.
I hope they return and recognize me,
then bury me so I can breathe.



Wasted
by Faiz Ahmed Faiz
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

You have noticed her forehead, her cheeks, her lips ...
In whose imagination I have lost everything.



Countless
by Faiz Ahmed Faiz
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

I recounted the world's countless griefs
by recounting your image countless times.



Do Not Ask
by Faiz Ahmed Faiz
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Do not ask, my love, for the love that we shared before:
You existed, I told myself, so existence shone.
For a moment the only light that I knew, alone,
was yours; worldly griefs remained dark, distant, afar.

Spring shone, as revealed in your face, but what did I know?
Beyond your bright eyes, what delights could the sad world hold?
Had I won you, cruel Fate would have ceded, no longer bold.
Yet all this was not to be, though I wished it so.

The world knows sorrows beyond love’s brief dreams betrayed,
and pleasures beyond all sweet, idle ideals of romance:
the dread dark spell of countless centuries and chance
is woven with silk and satin and gold brocade.

Bodies are sold everywhere for a pittance—it’s true!
Besmeared with dirt and bathed in bright oceans of blood,
Crawling from infested ovens, a gory cud.
My gaze returns to you: what else can I do?

Your beauty haunts me still, and will to the last.
But the world is burdened by sorrows beyond those of love,
By pleasures beyond romance.
So please do not demand a love that is over, and past.



O God!
by Qateel Shifai
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Torture my heart, O God!
If you so desire, leave me a madman, O God!

Have I asked for the moon and stars?
Enlighten my heart and give my eyes sight, O God!

We have all seen this disk called the sun,
Now give us a real dawn, O God!

Either relieve our pains here on this earth
Or make my heart granite, O God!



Hereafter
by Qateel Shifai
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Since we met and parted, how can we sleep hereafter?
Lost in each others' remembrance, must we not weep hereafter?

Deluges of our tears will keep us awake all night:
Our eyelashes strung with strands of pearls, hereafter!

Thoughts of our separation will sear our grieving hearts
Unless we immerse them in the cooling moonlight, hereafter!

If the storm also deceives us, crying Qateel!,
We will scuttle our boats near forsaken shores, hereafter.



Picnic
by Parveen Shakir
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

My friends laugh elsewhere on the beach
while I sit here, alone, counting the waves,
writing and rewriting your name in the sand ...



Confession
by Parveen Shakir
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Your image overwhelmed my vision.
As the long nights passed, I became obsessed with your visage.
Then came the moment when I quietly placed my lips to your picture ...



Rain
by Parveen Shakir
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Why shiver alone in the rain, maiden?
Embrace the one in whose warming love your body and mind would be drenched!
There are no rains higher than the rains of Love,
after which the bright rainbows of separation will glow with the mysteries of hues.



My Body's Moods
by Parveen Shakir
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

I long for the day when you'll be obsessed with me,
when, forgetting the world, you'll miss me with a passion
and stop complaining about my reticence!
Then I may forget all other transactions and liabilities
to realize my world in your arms,
letting my body's moods guide me.
In that moment beyond boundaries and limitations
as we defy the conventions of veil and turban,
let's try our luck and steal a taste of the forbidden fruit!



Moon
by Parveen Shakir
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

All of us passengers,
we share the same fate.
And yet I'm alone here on earth,
and she alone there in the sky!



Vanity
by Parveen Shakir
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

His world is so simple, so very different from mine.
So distinct—his dreams and desires.
He speaks rarely.
This morning he wrote: "I saw some lovely flowers and thought of you."
Ha! I know my aging face is no orchid ...
but how I wish I could believe whatever he says, however momentarily!



Come
by Ahmad Faraz
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Come, even with anguish, even to torture my heart;
Come, even if only to abandon me to torment again.

Come, if not for our past commerce,
Then to faithfully fulfill the ancient barbaric rituals.

Who else can recite the reasons for our separation?
Come, despite your reluctance, to continue the litanies, the ceremony.

Respect, even if only a little, the depth of my love for you;
Come, someday, to offer me consolation as well.

Too long you have deprived me of the pathos of longing;
Come again, my love, if only to make me weep.

Till now, my heart still suffers some slight expectation;
So come, ***** out even the last flickering torch of hope!



I Cannot Remember
by Ahmad Faraz
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

I once was a poet too (you gave life to my words), but now I cannot remember
Since I have forgotten you (my love!), my art too I cannot remember

Yesterday consulting my heart, I learned
that your hair, lips, mouth, I cannot remember

In the city of the intellect insanity is silence
But now your sweet, spontaneous voice, its fluidity, I cannot remember

Once I was unfamiliar with wrecking ***** and ruins
But now the cultivation of gardens, I cannot remember

Now everyone shops at the store selling arrows and quivers
But neglects his own body, the client he cannot remember

Since time has brought me to a desert of such arid forgetfulness
Even your name may perish; I cannot remember

In this narrow state of being, lacking a country,
even the abandonment of my fellow countrymen, I cannot remember



The Infidel
by Mirza Ghalib
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Ten thousand desires: each one worth dying for ...
So many fulfilled, and yet still I yearn for more!

Being in love, for me there was no difference between living and dying ...
and so I lived each dying breath watching you, my lovely Infidel, sighing                       afar.



Ghazal
by Mirza Ghalib
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Life becomes even more complicated
when a man can’t think like a man ...

What irrationality makes me so dependent on her
that I rush off an hour early, then get annoyed when she's "late"?

My lover is so striking! She demands to be seen.
The mirror reflects only her image, yet still dazzles and confounds my eyes.

Love’s stings have left me the deep scar of happiness
while she hovers above me, illuminated.

She promised not to torment me, but only after I was mortally wounded.
How easily she “repents,” my lovely slayer!



Ghazal
by Mirza Ghalib
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

It’s time for the world to hear Ghalib again!
May these words and their shadows like doors remain open.

Tonight the watery mirror of stars appears
while night-blooming flowers gather where beauty rests.

She who knows my desire is speaking,
or at least her lips have recently moved me.

Why is grief the fundamental element of night
when blindness falls as the distant stars rise?

Tell me, how can I be happy, vast oceans from home
when mail from my beloved lies here, so recently opened?



Abstinence?
by Mirza Ghalib
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Let me get drunk in the mosque,
Or show me the place where God abstains!



Step Carefully!
by Mirza Ghalib
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Step carefully Ghalib―this world is merciless!
Here people will "adore" you to win your respect ... or your downfall.



Bleedings
by Mirza Ghalib
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Love requires patience but lust is relentless;
what colors must my heart bleed before it expires?

There are more English translations of poems by Mirza Ghalib later on this page.



No Explanation! (I)
by Ahmad Faraz
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Please don't ask me how deeply it hurt!
Her sun shone so bright, even the shadows were burning!



No Explanation! (II)
by Ahmad Faraz
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Please don't ask me how it happened!
She didn't bind me, nor did I free myself.



Alone
by Ahmad Faraz
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Why are you sad that she goes on alone, Faraz?
After all, you said yourself that she was unique!



Separation
by Ahmad Faraz
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Faraz, if it were easy to be apart,
would Angels have to separate body from soul?



Time
by Ahmad Faraz
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

What if my face has more wrinkles than yours?
I am merely well-worn by Time!



Miraji Epigrams

I'm obsessed with this thought:
does God possess mercy?
―Miraji, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Come, see this dance, the immaculate dance of the devadasi!
―Miraji, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch



Excerpts from “Going, Going ...”
by Miraji
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Each unfolding vista,
each companion’s kindnesses,
every woman’s subtle sorceries,
everything that transiently lies within our power
quickly dissolves
and we are left with only a cupped flame, flickering ...
Should we call that “passion”?

The moon scrapes the horizon
and who can measure a star’s breadth?

The time allotted a life, if we calculate it,
is really only a fleeting breath ...



1.
Echoes of an ancient prophecy:
after my life has come and gone,
perhaps someone
hearing my voice drifting
on the breeze of some future spring
will chase after my songs
like dandelions.
—Miraji, translation by Michael R. Burch

2.
Echoes of an ancient prophecy:
after my life has come and gone,
perhaps someone
hearing my voice drifting
through some distant future spring
will pluck my songs
like dandelions.
—Miraji, translation by Michael R. Burch

3.
Echoes of an ancient prophecy:
when my life has come and gone,
and when I’m dead and done,
perhaps someone
hearing me sing
in a distant spring
will echo my songs
the whole world over.
—Miraji, translation by Michael R. Burch

If I understand things correctly, Miraji wrote the lines above after translating a verse by Sappho in which she said that her poems would be remembered in the future. I suspect both poets and both prophecies were correct!




Every Day and in Every Direction
by Nida Fazli
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Everywhere and in every direction we see innumerable people:
each man a victim of his own loneliness, reticence and silences.
From dawn to dusk men carry enormous burdens:
all preparing graves for their soon-to-be corpses.
Each day a man lives, the same day he dies.
Each new day requires the same old patience.
In every direction there are roads for him to roam,
but in every direction, men victimize men.
Every day a man dies many deaths only to resurrect from his ashes.
Each new day presents new challenges.
Life's destiny is not fixed, but a series of journeys:
thus, till his last breath, a man remains restless.



Couplets
by Nida Fazli
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

It was my fate to entangle and sink myself
because I am a boat and my ocean lies within.
―Nida Fazli, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

You were impossible to forget once you were gone:
hell, I remembered you most when I tried to forget you!
―Nida Fazli, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Don't squander these pearls:
such baubles may ornament sleepless nights!
―Nida Fazli, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

The world is like a deck of cards on a gambling table:
some of us are bound to loose while others cash in.
―Nida Fazli, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

There is a proper protocol for everything in this world:
when visiting gardens never force butterflies to vacate their flowers!
―Nida Fazli, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Since I lack the courage to commit suicide,
I have elected to bother people with my life a bit longer.
―Nida Fazli, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch



Changing Seasons
by Noshi Gillani
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Each changing season
reveals something
concealed by her fears:
an escape route from this island
illuminated by her tears.



Dust
by Bahadur Shah Zafar or Muztar Khairabadi
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Unable to light anyone's eye
or to comfort anyone's heart ...
I am nothing but a handful of dust.



Piercings
by Firaq Gorakhpuri
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

No one ever belonged to anyone else for a lifetime.
We cannot own another's soul.
The beauty we see and the love we feel are only illusions.
All my life I tried to save myself from the piercings of your eyes ...
But I failed and the daggers ripped right through me.



Salvation
Mohammad Ibrahim Zauq
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Anxious and fatigued, I consider the salvation of death ...
But if there is no peace in the grave,
where can I go to be saved?



Child of the Century
by Abdellatif Laâbi (a Moroccan poet)
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

I’m a child of this dreary century, a child who never grew up.
Doubts that ignited my tongue singed my wings.
I learned to walk, then I unlearned progress.
I grew weary of oases and camels infatuated with ruins.
My head inclined East only to occupy the middle of the road
as I awaited the insane caravans.



Nostalgia
by Abdulla Pashew (a Kurdish poet)
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

How I desire the heavens!
Each solitary star lights the way to a tryst.

How I desire the sky!
Standing alone, remote, the sky is as vast as any ocean.

How I desire love's heavenly scent!
When each enticing blossom releases its essence.



Oblivion
by Al-Saddiq Al-Raddi (an African poet who writes in Arabic)
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Discard your pen
before you start reading;
consider the ink,
how it encompasses bleeding.

Learn from the horizon
through eyes' narrowed slits
the limitations of vision
and hands' treacherous writs.

Do not blame me,
nor indeed anyone,
if you expire before
your reading is done.



In Medias Res
by Shaad Azimabadi
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

When I heard the story of my life recounted,
I caught only the middle of the tale.
I remain unaware of the beginning or end.



Debt Relief
by Piyush Mishra
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

We save Sundays for our loved ones ...
all other days we slave to repay debts.



Reoccurrence
by Amrita Bharati (a Hindi poet)
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

It was a woman's heart speaking,
that had been speaking for eons ...

It was a woman's heart silenced,
that had been silenced for centuries ...

And between them loomed a mountain
that a man or a rat gnawed at, even in times of amity ...
gnawing at the screaming voice,
at the silent tongue,
from the primeval day.



Don't Approach Me
by Arif Farhad
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Don't approach me here by the river of time
where I flop like a fish in a net!



Intoxicants
by Amrut Ghayal (a Gujarati poet)
translation by Kanu V. Prajapati and Michael R. Burch

O, my contrary mind!
You're such a fool, afraid to drink the fruit of the vine!
But show me anything universe-designed
that doesn't intoxicate, like wine.



I’m like a commodity being priced in the market-place:
every eye ogles me like a buyer’s.
—Majrooh Sultanpuri, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

If you insist, I’ll continue playing my songs,
forever piping the flute of my heart.
—Majrooh Sultanpuri, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

The moon has risen once again, yet you are not here.
My heart is a blazing pyre; what do I do?
—Majrooh Sultanpuri, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch



Drunk on Love
by Mirza Ghalib
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Drunk on love, I made her my God.
She quickly informed me that God belongs to no man!

Exiles
by Mirza Ghalib
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Often we have heard of Adam's banishment from Eden,
but with far greater humiliation, I abandon your garden.

To Whom Shall I Complain?
by Mirza Ghalib
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

To whom shall I complain when I am denied Good Fortune in acceptable measure?
Dementedly, I demanded Death, but was denied even that dubious pleasure!



Ghazal
by Mirza Ghalib
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

You should have stayed a little longer;
you left all alone, so why not linger?

We’ll meet again, you said, some day similar to this one,
as if such days can ever recur, not vanish!

You left our house as the moon abandons night's skies,
as the evening light abandons its earlier surmise.

You hated me: a wife abnormally distant, unknown;
you left me before your children were grown.

Only fools ask why old Ghalib still clings to breath
when his fate is to live desiring death.



How strange has life become:
Our evenings drag out, yet our years keep flashing by!
―original poet unknown, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch



Longing
by Allama Iqbal
loose translation by Michael R. Burch

Lord, I’ve grown tired of human assemblies!
I long to avoid conflict! My heart craves peace!
I desperately desire the silence of a small mountainside hut!



Life Advice
by Allama Iqbāl
loose translation by Michael R. Burch

This passive nature will not allow you to survive;
If you want to live, raise a storm!



Destiny
by Allama Iqbal
loose translation by Michael R. Burch

Isn't it futile to complain about God's will,
When you are your own destiny?

Keywords/Tags: Urdu, translation, love poetry, desire, passion, longing, romance, romantic, God, heaven, mrburdu
1.

From our
safe windows,
we crane our necks,
rubbernecking
past the slow
motion wreckage
unfolding in Homs.

We remain
perfectly
perched
to marvel at
the elegant arc of
a mortar shell
framing tomorrows
deep horizon,
whistling through
the twilight to
find its fruitful
mark.

In the now
we keep
complicit time,
to the arrest
of beating hearts,
snapping fingers
to the pop
of rifle cracks,
swooning to
the delicious
intoxication of
curling smoke
lofting ever
upward;
yet
thankfully
remain
distant
enough to
recuse any
possibility
of an
intimate
nexus
with the
besieged.

2.

From our
safe windows,
we behold the
urgent arrivals of
The Friends of Syria
demanding
clean sheets
and 4 Star
room service at a
Tunisian Palace
recently cleaned
and under new
management
promising a
much needed
refurbishment.

The gathered,
a clique of
this epochs
movers and shakers,
a veritable
rouges gallery of
ambassadorial
prelates, Emirs and
state department
bureaucrats
summoned
with portfolio
from the
darkest corners
of the globe.

They are
eager to
sanctify
the misery
of Homs,
deflect and
lay blame
with realpolitik
rationalizations,
commencing
official commissions
of inquiry,
deliberating
grave considerations,
issuing indictments
of formal charges for
Crimes Against
Humanity
while
remaining
urgently
engrossed
in the fascination
of interviewing
potential
process servers
to deliver the bad news
to Bashar al-Assad
and his soulless
Baathist
confederates,
if papers
are to be
served.

Yes, the diplomats
are busy meeting
in closed rooms.

In hushed circles
they whisper
into aroused ears,
railing against
Russia’s
gun running
intransigence
and China’s
geopolitical
chess moves.

Statesmen
boast of the
intrepid justice
of tipping points
and the moving poetry
of self serving tales,
weighing the impact
of stern sanctions
amidst the historical
confusion of the
asymmetrical
symmetries
of civil war.

Caravans
of Arab League
envoys roll up
in silver Bentleys,
crossing deserts
of contradictory
obfuscations,
navigating the
endless dunes
with hand held
sextants of
hidden agendas.

The heroic
Bedouins are
eager to offload
their baggage
and share
on the ground
intelligence from
their recent soirées
across Syria.

They beg
a quick fix,
the triage of a
critical catharsis
to bleed their
brains dry
of heinous
recollections,
pleading
release from a
troubled conscience
victimized by
the unnerving paradox
of reconciling
discoveries of
perverse voyeurism
with the sanctioned
explanations
of their respective
ruling elites.

The bellies
of these
scopophiliacs
are distended;
grown queasy
from a steady diet
of malfeasance
an ulcerated
world parades
in continuous loop;
spewing the raw feeds
of real time misery;
forcibly fed
the grim
visions of
frantic
fathers
rushing
the mangled
carcases
of mortally
wounded
children
to crumpled
piles of smashed
concrete that were
once hospitals.

We despondently
ask how
much longer
must we
look into
the eyes
of starving
children
emaciated from
the wanton
indifference
of the world?


3.

From our
safe windows
we wonder
how much
longer can
the urgent
burning
ambivalence
continue
before it
consumes
our common
humanity in
a final
conflagration?

My hair already
singed by the
endless firestorms
sweeping the prairies
of the world.

How can we survive
the trampling hoards,
the marauding
plagues of acrimony
fed by a voracious
blood lust aspiring to
victimize the people
of Homs and a
thousand cities
like it?


4.

From my safe
window I stand in witness
to the state execution of
refugees fleeing the
living nightmare
of Baba Amr.

The ****** of innocents,
today's newly minted martyrs,
women and children
cornered, trapped
on treacherous roads,
mercilessly
slaughtered and
defiled in death
to mark the lesson
of a ruthless master
enthralled with the
power of his
sadistic fascist
lordship.

I cannot avert my eyes
marking sights
of pleading women
begging for the
lives of their children
in exchange for
the gratification
of a sadists
lust.

My heart
is impaled
on the sharp
spear of
outrage
beholding
careening
children mowed
down with the
serrated blades
protruding
from marauding
jeeps of laughing
soldiers.

I drop
to my knees
in lakes of
tears
reflecting
a grotesque
horror stricken
image of myself.

My eyes have
murdered my soul.

The ghastly images
of Homs have chased
away my Holy Ghost
to the safety of a child's
sandbox hidden away
in a long forgotten
revered memory.


5.

From my safe window
I seethe with anger
demanding vengeance,
debating how to rise
to meet the obscenity of
the Butcher of Damascus.

The sword of Damocles
dangles so tantalizingly close
to this tyrants throat.  

The covered women
of Homs scream prayers
“may Allah bring Bashar to ruin”

Dare I pray
that Allah trip the
horsehair trigger
that holds the
sword at bay?

Do I pick up
the sword
a wield it
as an
avenging
angel?

Am I the
John Brown
of our time?

Do I organize
a Lincoln Brigade
and join the growing
leagues of jihadists
amassing at the
Gates of Damascus?

Will my righteous
indignation fit well
in a confederacy
with Hamas and
al-Qaeda as my
comrades in arms?

Do I succumb to
the passion of hate
and become just
another murderous
partisan, or do I
commend the power
of love and marshal
truth to speak with
the force of
satyagraha?

I lift a fervent prayer
to claim the justice
of Allah’s ear,
“may the knowing one
lift the veil of foolishness
that covers my heart in
cloaks of resent, cure
my blindness that ignores
my raging disease of
plausible deniability
ravaging the body politic
of humanity.”

6.

Indeed,
physician heal thyself.

I run to embrace my
illness.

I pine to understand it.

I undertake the
difficult regimen
of a cure to eradicate
the terrible affliction.

This
pernicious
plague,
subverting
the notion
of a shared
humanness
is a cunning
sedition that
undermines
the unity of
the holy spirit.  

The bell from
the toppled steeples
still tolls, echoing
across the space of
continents and eons
of temporal time.

The faithful chimes
gently chides us
to remove the wedge
of perception that
separates, divides
and undermines.

Time has come
to liberally
apply the balm
that salves the
open wounds
so common to
our common
human condition.

The power of prayer
is the joining of hands
with others racked
with the common
affliction of humanness.

Allah,  
My eyes are wide open,
my sacred heart revealed,
my sleeves are rolled up,
my memory is stocked,
my soul filled with resolve,
my hand is lifted
extended to all
brothers and sisters.
Lift us,
gather us
into one
loving embrace.

Selah


7.

From the safe
windows of
our palaces
we live within
earshot of
the trilling
zaghroutas
of exasperation
flowing from
the besieged
city smouldering
under Bashar’s
symphony of terror.

Our nostrils
fill with the
acrid plumes
of unrequited
lamentations
lifting from the
the burning
destruction
of shelled
buildings.

Our eyes spark
from the night
tracers
of sleeking
snipers
flitting along
the city’s
rooftops.

The deadly jinn
indiscriminately
inject the
paralysis of
random fear
into the veins
of the city
with each
skillful
head shot.

These
ghoulish
assassins
lavish in their
macabre work;
like vultures
they eagerly
feast on the
corpses of their ****,
the stench of bloated
bodies drying in the
sun is the perfume
that fills their nostrils.


8.

From our
safe window
we discern the
silhouettes of militants
still boldly standing
amidst the
mounting rubble of an
unbowed Homs
shouting;

Allah Akbar!!!
Allah Akbar!!!
Allah Akbar!!!

raising pumped fists,
singing songs
of resistance,
dancing to
the revelation of
freedom,
refusing to
be coward by
the slashing
whips of a
butchers
terrible
sword.


9.

From my
safe window
my tongue laps
the pap
of infants
suckling from
the depleted
teats of mothers
who cannot cry
for their dying
children;
tears fail
to well from
the exhaustion
of dehydrated
pools.

10.

From my
safe window
my heart stirs
to the muezzin
calling the
desperate faithful
from the toppled
rubble of dashed
minarets.

We can
no longer
shut our ears
to the adhan
of screams
the silent
voices that echo
the blatant injustice
of a people under siege.


11.

From my
safe window,
I pay
Homage to Homs
and call brothers
and sisters to rise
with vigilant
insistence
that hostilities
cease and
humanity be
upheld,
respected and
protected.


12.

From my safe
window
I perceive
the zagroutas
of sorrow
manifest as a
whiling hum,
a sweeping
blue mist,
levitating
the coffins
from the rubble
of ravaged streets.

The swirling
chorus of
mourning
joins my
desperate
prayers;
rising in
concert
with the
black billows
of smoke
dancing
away
from the
flaming
embers
of scorched
neighborhoods.


13.

From my
safe window
I heed
the fluttering
wings
of avenging
angels
furiously
batting
as they
climb
the black
plumes,
lifting from
the scattered bricks
of the desecrated
city.

It is the
Jacob’s
Ladder
for our
time;
marking
a new
consecrated
place
where
a New Adam
is destined
to be formed
from the
pulverized
stones of
desolation.

14.

From our
safe windows
we peer into
resplendent
mirrors
beholding
the perfect image of
ourselves
eying
falling tears
dripping blood,
coloring death
onto the
blanched sheets
of disheveled beds.


15.

From our
safe windows
our voices are silenced,
our words mock urgency
our thoughts betray comprehension
our senses fail to illicit empathy
our action is the only worthy prayer


16.

From my
safe window
I hear the
mortar shells
walking toward
my little palace,
the crack
of a ******
shot
precedes
the wiz of a
passing bullet
whispering
its presence
into my
waxen
ear.


17.

From my
safe window,
my palms scoop
the rich soil
of the flower boxes
perched on my sill.
I anoint the tender
green shoots of  the
Arab Spring
with an incessant flow
of bittersweet tears.

Music selection:
John Coltrane
A Love Supreme
Acknowledgment

Oakland
2/28/12
jbm
Morgan Percy Nov 2010
Victimize, yourself

                Tantalize, everyone else

                                                  Agonize, her
                                                              
                                                                Moralize, you try
                                                                                  
                                                                                 Critisize, they do
                                                                                                        
                                                                                                       Apologize, can't you?
© Morgan Percy 2010
fortifications of strength
were built around the queen's palace
she'd been assailed
by betraying hearts
her turrets
were inculcated
with stone and cement
for the queen
had known of men
in the past
who'd extolled
their unwavering virtues
to her soul
ne'er again
would her palace
be so brutalized
by men
whose motives
were to victimize
Celeste C Sep 2012
My hollow bones and aching muscles have driven me to exhaustion.
These disgusting thoughts are overflowing my weary head.

I've become stuck in a daze.
My body has shifted gears into auto pilot.

I'm so tired I can not sleep,
and even when I can,
sleep forces it's nightmares upon me.
So famished I can no longer hold a meager meal
in my constantly shrinking stomach.
My rain cloud has come back,
and taken its place over me.

This burden of life has become too much for such a small person such as I to carry.

I don't know why the sickness has chosen me to victimize.
Why I've become subject to feelings of guilt and despondent thoughts.

A cry for help is not enough,
this theory has been tested and showed true each time.
Those pills won't help.
Shrinks don't help.
Not even my own medication,
a concoction of marijuana and a razor blade,
help.

There is nothing left to do.
Nothing else to try.
Nothing anyone can say.

No,
No rope you can cast is long enough
to pull me out of the pit of desperation and agony
I find myself in.

Nevertheless, I will smile.
I will act as though I am on your level of ground.
I'll push my food around my plate when I sit with you to eat
and I'll close my eyes when you check on me to see if i'm sleeping
because I would never forgive myself
for being the gravitational pull that lands you
in my pit.
David Flemister Mar 2016
SCAR SCAR SCAR
its your choice, your voice
SCAR SCAR SCAR
invoice for your worldly possessions
SCAR SCAR SCAR
****** you with cold obsession
SCAR SCAR SCAR
draw blood from the warm thighs and cold hands
of little girls

BRUISE SCAR CUT SCAR SCRAPE SCAR SCAR SCAR
look me in the ******* eyes
bleed me a river of *** and tears
DESTROY ME AND YOURSELF
make me your prey
VICTIMIZE ME
VICTIMIZE ME
VICTIMIZE ME
these demons they haunting me,
they ******* won't stop bugging me,
they screaming in my ear, 'do it now'.
won't leave me alone, won't leave me alone,
why won't everyone just leave me the **** alone?

****, what am I saying? Am I ******* stupid?
I don't wanna be alone, this loneliness drives me mad,
but I push them away, pushing people away,
cause why? Cause I'm angry, cause I'm mad?
What the **** does it matter, why do I care?
Why am I this way, so weird and insecure?
When I look in that mirror, and I see that
face looking back at me, I just want to *******
grab it and slit its ******* throat.
Why am I so ugly? I don't ******* know.

these demons they haunting me,
they keep on stalking me, day and night,
they keep on leading me astray, oh,
won't I ever find my way back to where I was.
They won't let me alone, can't you feel my plight?
why do they do these things to me, why won't
they just leave me alone?

Demons, are they real, the **** should I know?
they may just be something sick like my head,
something dark and twisted brought to life,
by these worries and these fears that I made up my mind.
whether they be real or just ******* fake,
I know they make me wanna curl up and die.

these demons they haunting me,
in my dreams, they stopping me,
won't let me be, won't leave me alone,
won't let me be the person I know I can be,
won't let me be free to be what I know I can be.

And when I set my mind to racing,
I can feel my arteries thumping, and my heart pacing.
I'm gonna need a ******* pacemaker, at this rate,
cause all these fears and these worries going to build,
and one of these days, I'm gonna ******* blow,
all over everything and everyone, and y'all
be left to pick up the pieces of my broken soul.

these demons they haunting me,
I can hear those ******* laughing now,
at me and my self-conscious bull-****,
knowing that all this is just another ego-stroke
as I feel sorry for myself and wait to be comforted
by those people that want to call me their friends,
but really, I just seem them as means to ends.

Call me corrupt, or just call me a ****,
but I know that machiavellian ****,
my means are always justified by my ends,
know that I'm always right, even when I know
that I'm wrong, I keep on fighting like it's a war,
and I'm the ******* 5-star general,
that earth-rattling, world shaker who
the universe rightly revolves around
I ain't no Prince, I'm the ******* King!

these demons they haunting me,
they egging me on, telling me I'm right,
even when I'm wronger than wrong.
I know it's wrong, but it feels so good,
and I can't find it in me to argue
when the promise of righteousness feels so good.

And so I keep on playing the game,
arguing and fighting over petty ****,
desperate to prove my point like it matters,
feeling that high when I prove someone wrong,
it fills me, it thrills me, it's like a spine-chiller.
It's a ******* drug and you, the dealer,
but the way I'm feeling, like a high-wheeler.
I won't complain or say things should be different.

these demons they haunting me,
I can hear their ***** singing along,
I can hear their voices ringing real soft,
it sounds so sweet, but I got this feeling
deep down that maybe it ain't as good
as it sounds and there's something deeper lurking.

All it takes is one word alone, and I'm
shattered like broken glass, like I just got
put out on my fat ***. Cause I know I'm
fat and ******* ugly, you don't got to remind me,
mirror, I'd rather hide the truth.
And just like that the circle is running again,
like it's done time and time again.
A cycle of loathing, then a cycle of loving,
then a cycle of loathing, a cycle of loving.

these demons they haunting me,
not even caring that I'm onto them,
and those games they play, they just
keep on grinning, keep on sinning,
these jackals, they wanna bleed me dry,
they wanna consume, wanna swallow my soul,
like an anaconda, they wanna swallow me whole
why won't they just leave me alone,
so I can find some kind of inner peace?

Instead I just keep on rolling on that
hill like I was Sisyphus, and my ego's
the boulder, and every time I push it up,
I know it's gonna come down even stronger
It's like I gotta just deal with the fact
that when I'm happy, the sadness'll
strike about 10 times harder than it ought to,
like it was giving me a special '*******'.

these demons they haunting me,
I think they ******* hate me, but
who can really blame them? I hate
me too, and the ******* I can be,
the ******* I can be, the ***** I can be
when I let my jealousy get the best of me,
treating my friends like they out to get me,
Sometimes when I think back on how I act,
I just want to kick my own *** just to teach
me a lesson.

I try to be good, and decent, and think good,
and think decent, but I can't find it in me
to feel that heart beat-beating for me,
I just look in the mirror and I hate what I see,
I hate what's there, and knowing I'm stuck where I am.
Why I gotta be me? Why can't I be you, or someone
new or someone better? Or just a person who I know
is better than me? Smarter than me, nicer than me?
Kinder than me, prettier than me?
Why I gotta be stuck in this ugly *** ******* shell?

these demons they haunting me,
they taunting me like *******,
I don't know if it's in my head,
my mind playing those tricks on me,
or if they're really there to steal my soul,
but I know they keep tripping me either way,
I think I hate them more than I hate me,
and that's something to be said since I despise me.
They test me, they trick me, they want to end me,
and all I want is for them to get off my throne.
My throne of **** and wallowed pride, that's all mine,
for better or worse, I still want to claim it as mine.
Everyone keeps on testing me lately, human contact,
and I just want to be left the **** alone.
Can't everyone just leave me the **** alone?

Demons, who the hell am I kidding?
Satan himself knows I'm full of ****,
I'm just using them as an excuse to justify,
the kind of guy I am deep down, and to victimize
myself so I can throw out a line for sympathy,
and get that ego-stroke needed to get back in line,
and start that same wicked cycle back again,
hell, that's what all this is, just another me whining,
and complaining before I get high on me again,
at least that's what I say to myself to feel like I win
Yenson Oct 2018
Please be aware, the arrogance of a Burglar
that breaks into your home and steals your
property is permissible

Please carefully note that the arrogance of a stinking bully
that oppresses you and wants to cower you down
is permissible

Please take into consideration that the arrogance of a gang
that terrorizes and bullies is permissible

Please bear in mind the arrogance of liars, twisters, slanderers
fraudsters and defamers is permissible

Please remember the arrogance of fringe lunatics to unjustly
condemn and victimize and bring chaos and destruction
to an innocent human is permissible

Please keep in your appraisals the arrogance of a misled majority
to impose, mob, obstruct, harass and hound is democracy
in action and is permissible

Please note that the arrogance and ignorance of offensively discriminating against any foreigner or minority member is permissible

Please note to work hard and earn an honest living is Arrogant
Please know to stand up to criminal bullies is Arrogant
Please know to stand up to stinking bullies is Arrogant
Please know to speak up for yourself is Arrogant

Please note to refuse to be cowered by thieves is Arrogant
Please know to refuse to be browbeaten is Arrogant
Please know to refuse to have your confidence drained is Arrogant
Please know to stand up to adversity is Arrogance
Please know to not be weak and Feeble under pressure is Arrogance
Please know to have self respect and be self assured is Arrogant
Please know to possess your own mind is Arrogance
Please know to offer as much as a squeak when being unfairly and unjustly treated is Arrogance

Above all please know that we invented the English Language and have the sole knowledge as to what constitutes Arrogance, whether you like it or not, and if you protest about that, you are ****** guilty of Arrogance...my friend!

Please be strictly conscious that Arrogance is weakness, mental weakness. Falling to the desires of our darker instincts and
succumbing to conceit and smugness.

Please pay particular attention to the salient fact that Arrogance
portraits a total lack of human decency towards other humans
Know that when arrogance ceases humanity ascends.
And we we all live in a lovely perceptibly white and wonderful world
Please note that the last two stanzas acknowledges extracts by Guru Hollinngs, from " How Mr Westerner Ruled The World " By the esteemed New-age Philosopher and Poet, Guru G J. Hollinngs aka The bearded Guru of Disingenuous Hogwash and Spinner supreme of Shyster Twister Goonery.
Born and raised in Georgia where the A stitched in to the fitted
We let the streets be the streets but some of yall gone snitch
I'd rather be broke with the team then get swallowed into greed
I always kept it hundred living by the family creed
I'm tatted on my arm a last of a dying breed.
One Life to Live while rhyming All Eyes on Me
All these busters wanna be a G
While I'm just trying to do the right thing like Spike Lee
L A P D has their lasers pointed at my back
brothers turning police I don't believe that giant Shaq
I'm going in I'm going in cause I'm trained like that
Pistols in their holsters with a rifle on my back
I'm not a Violent person but a heart is what I don't lack
I won't be gone long if you Hindu then I'm coming back
Last of a Dying Breed look the future in my eyes
last four hundred years some of us been struggling to survive
looking at the world today I see the people tranquilized
this generations music is the reason why they're hypnotized.
Better guard your girl because my voice will have her mesmerized
I'm the Phantom of the opera can't you tell by my disguise?
Smoking on some ***** maybe one day they'll decriminalize
Smoking on the best that will have you bleeding from your eyes
Medically prescribed by a Doctor in a tie
They victimize the victims and they glorify the killers
yet don't realize these symptoms
got these youngsters pulling triggers
Little girls becoming strippers
just so they can make some figures
guess they missed the bigger picture
My knowledge helps reconsider
I'm a country boy at heart
with the style of city slickers
I leave you looking ignorant
you think that I'm a ******
The last man to **** his own people name was
******.
I'm more mysterious then that
compare to Jack the Ripper.
Michael R Burch Apr 2020
The Eager Traveler
by Ahmad Faraz
loose translation by Michael R. Burch

Even in the torture chamber, I was the lucky one;
When each lottery was over, unaccountably I had won.

And even the mightiest rivers found accessible refuge in me;
Though I was called an arid desert, I turned out to be the sea.

And how sweetly I remember you, oh, my wild, delectable love—
Like the purest white blossoms, on talented branches above.

And while I’m half-convinced that folks adore me in this town,
Still, all the hands I kissed held knives and tried to shake me down.

You lost the battle, my coward friend, my craven enemy,
When, to victimize my lonely soul, you sent a despoiling army.

Lost in the wastelands of vast love, I was an eager traveler,
Like a breeze in search of your fragrance, a vagabond explorer.

Published in the anthology Eastern Promise



I Cannot Remember
by Ahmad Faraz
loose translation by Michael R. Burch

I once was a poet too (you gave life to my words), but now I cannot remember
Since I have forgotten you (my love!), my art too I cannot remember

Yesterday consulting my heart, I learned
that your hair, lips, mouth, I cannot remember

In the city of the intellect insanity is silence
But now your sweet, spontaneous voice, its fluidity, I cannot remember

Once I was unfamiliar with wrecking ***** and ruins
But now the cultivation of gardens, I cannot remember

Now everyone shops at the store selling arrows and quivers
But neglects his own body, the client he cannot remember

Since time has brought me to a desert of such arid forgetfulness
Even your name may perish; I cannot remember

In this narrow state of being, lacking a country,
even the abandonment of my fellow countrymen, I cannot remember

Published in the anthology Eastern Promise



Come  
by Ahmad Faraz
loose translation by Michael R. Burch

Come, even with anguish, even to torture my heart;
Come, even if only to abandon me to torment again.

Come, if not for our past commerce,
Then to faithfully fulfill the ancient barbaric rituals.

Who else can recite the reasons for our separation?
Come, despite your reluctance, to continue the litanies, the ceremony.

Respect, even if only a little, the depth of my love for you;
Come, someday, to offer me consolation as well.

Too long you have deprived me of the pathos of longing;
Come again, my love, if only to make me weep.

Till now, my heart still suffers some slight expectation;
So come, ***** out even the last flickering torch of hope!



Ahmad Faraz [1931-2008], born Syed Ahmad Shah, was a Pakistani poet generally considered to be one of the greatest modern Urdu poets. Faraz was a poet accessible to ordinary readers due to his “fine but simple style of writing.” Ethnically a Hindkowan, he studied Persian and Urdu at Edwards College, then at Peshawar University, where he became a lecturer after receiving his Masters. During his time in college, Faiz Ahmad Faiz and Ali Sardar Jafri impressed him and became influences on his own work. Faraz was born in Kohat, Pakistan to Syed Muhammad Shah Barq. In an interview he recalled how his father once bought clothes for him and his brother on Eid. He didn't like the clothes meant for him, preferring the ones given to his elder brother. This lead him to write his first couplet:

Laye hain sab ke liye kapre sale se (He brought clothes for everybody from the sale)
Laye hain hamare liye kambal jail se (For me he brought a blanket from jail)

Faraz was an outspoken critic of Pakistan’s military dictatorship, saying, “My conscience will not forgive me if I remain a silent spectator of the sad happenings around us. The least I can do is to let the dictatorship know where it stands in the eyes of the concerned citizens whose fundamental rights have been usurped. I ... refuse to associate myself in any way with the regime ..."

Keywords/Tags: Ahmad Faraz, Pakistani, Urdu, Persian, translation, couplet, eager, traveler, love, mrburdu
They victimize the victims and
they glorify the killers
yet don't realize what symptoms
has the youngsters pulling triggers
Little girls becoming strippers
just so they can make some figures
guess they missed the bigger picture
My knowledge helps reconsider
A country man at heart
with street smarts like city slickers
I'll leave you looking ignorant
you think that I'm a ******
The last man to **** his own people
name was ******.
I'm more mysterious then that
compare to Jack the Ripper.
MST Oct 2014
We attempt to victimize,
those who we believe tell us lies,
but we do not take time to sympathize,
instead we drown out their cries,
with thoughts of our future prize,
and how we will one day reach the skies,
and then we can be wise,
and attempt to apprise,
those who we once chastised,
but it is too late and it is us they despise,
they see no compromise,
as we are the cause of their demise,
it is too late to revise,
why do you show surprise?
when you stepped on their rise,
spouting **** like "everyone dies",
meanwhile your have grown in size,
thanks to stealing their supplies,
and murdering their allies,
all so you can excuse yourself from seeing the pain in their eyes.
dk
Demonize the morally upright
patronize the silent worker
Victimize the celibate lady
Moralize the perverted ogor
Chastise till the world is numb
Finger her till she comes
stay away from me
Joseph Mar 2019
I am in this prison, no escape can I find.
I have been convicted – punished, for another man’s crime

There are many things which I am guilty of – in denying, I would be remiss
For those I should be charged – another man’s crime, absolutely not— not this!

I didn’t break your heart – why should I do the time?
I didn’t  make you cry – why should I pay the fine?
I didn’t cause you misery – why should I go to jail?
I didn’t leave you lonely – why should I be in this cell?

For the many wrongs I’ve done, I would gladly pay for them all.
But for another man’s crime – I walk this justice hall

I stand; -- boldly proclaim –not guilty! – My innocence plea!
I was not at the scene of the crime – mistaken identity.
What heinous thing has he done – what unforgivable act?
What was the crime – I am charged with accessory after the fact.

Tell me what I have done and I will gladly make amends
Don’t make me pay, forever pay, for another man’s sins

I was not there when he did you wrong – wasted words that I say
I was not there when he rejected your affection – your trust he did betray
I was not there when he turned your world misty blue- it was him and him alone
I was not there when he left you broken– that deed is his to own

Why am I impaled for an unknown deed – ignorance is no defense
I throw myself on the mercy of the court – may I approach the bench
He committed the prefect crime – walks away scot-free
Enjoys all the benefit of his wrongdoing –I get the third degree.

Debtor Prison, is my sentence – yet it should not be.
I am an innocent man – yet, you grant him clemency
He forsook your love, took what he wanted, and walked away
But I am the one sentenced-- his debt I’m forced to pay.

When I am holding you -does it remind you of his embrace?
When I am kissing you- do you still see his face?
When I am loving you- is it him you that you miss?
When I am caressing you- for him do you reminisce?

You were a victim – now you victimize.
Creating more damage than you realize.
Because of one man’s wrong, you create wounded of your own.
Perpetually they pay for a crime, for which they can never atone.

It is easy to hurt other when you can’t feel any pain
Yet I pay the price, the one led away in chains.

How can I fix – what you refuse to say?
You want let me close, I’m always keep at bay.
The time may have come for me to throw in the towel.
The jury has been fixed – it’s an unwinnable trial.

Before my leg irons are put on and I am forced to go…
Let me speak now, let my record show,
I gave you my all –it wasn’t good enough
I gave you my best –never gained your trust

I only wanted to hold you and never make you cry
I only wanted to make you smile, girl that’s no lie
I only wanted to please you, but it was not to be
I only wanted to make your happy, the laugh’s on me.

Time is running out, there’s not much left to say
You shut me out, you push me away.
I hope you come around before too long.
Or you’ll wake up-- old – lonely- -all alone.

What I’ve been through- just not right.
I surrender - wave the white flag– no strength left to fight.

Hurt—pain – broken trust – you’re not the only one
Don't end your faith in love because of what he's done

He still controls – your heart – your soul – your mind!
My heart grows heavy –lost hope of your being mine.

Yesterday –gone – present - wasted – future - there’s time
Don’t make every man pay for another man’s crime!
Yenson Feb 2019
Our Car-boot sales Militaunts
those crap Socially maladjusted leftist soap-boxers
decided in delirious hysteria they've found a sacrificial lamb
To the altar for slaughter sing our merry band of loonies

Hail  Tolpuddle, Tonypandy, even hail the Suffragettes
(those from Bow, which to be honest weren't a lot)
Are you listening Lenin, Tolstoy, marx and Stalin our fathers
And all you thieves, burglars, reprobates, wasters and psychos
our Revolution takes no prisoners, this lamb is for you all

To the New world of People's' Power we give you a black sheep
Leave the Tories, Bankers, the Sloanes, Fat cats and the Aristos
(they're much too strong, well placed and powerful for us)
This lamb here is just right, nothing like a roasted fat black sheep
we take control and own his life, his blood will run like our flag

We'll control his perceptions and own his mind, ain't so comrades
find his weaknesses and vulnerabilities and bob's our uncle
we'll smear, tarnish, persecute, alienate, humiliate, taunt and harass
we'll isolate, victimize, shred and rain miseries and grief on our lamb
maddened and alone, helpless in our in our psychotic grip, he dies
this is war and all is fair in war, we are narcissistic and don't care

We search for guilt, sin, fear and vulnerabilities, all in absence
So trawl out the fake news and made it all up as we go along
create a love interest, bait him and manipulate his emotions
get a Mata Hari an the man and shred his mind with mistrust  
betrayal, pain, humiliation, emotional abuse, all those passions
Drain his confidence, his self-worth, his beliefs and values
Strip him of all he holds sacred and dear, bring me his head

Comrades, what is going on, why is this taking so long
This is suppose to be a psyche assault, a ruinous psychological war
We are the majority, with the numbers and we are psychotic bullies
we are loonies, narcissists with no souls, hearts or remorse
What do you mean a 'sterling, centred, upstanding noble and brave character'
You're supposed to rain untold terrors on his mind, shred him to pieces, he should be a broken nervous wreck, we want his blood

I have never deliberately injured or harm a fellow human
I have never coverted  or stolen anything from my neighbor
I am not perfect, but I am what I am and for that I make no apologies
I know that only the TRUTH offers real FREEDOM
He who dwells in the shelter of the Most High will rest in the shadow of the Almighty.

I will say of the LORD, "He is my refuge and my fortress, my God, in whom I trust."

Surely he will save you from the fowler's snare and from the deadly pestilence.

He will cover you with his feathers, and under his wings you will find refuge; his faithfulness will be your shield and rampart.

You will not fear the terror of night, nor the arrow that flies by day,

nor the pestilence that stalks in the darkness, nor the plague that destroys at midday.

A thousand may fall at your side, ten thousand at your right hand, but it will not come near you.

You will only observe with your eyes and see the punishment of the wicked.
jeffrey conyers Jun 2012
Your decision to be.
Was yours to make?
Still you hide in that closet afraid of what people might say?

Notice the way the rich hides behind image of protection.
Only coming out after their true fame is gone.
Proclaiming they now feel free to admit.
That the life they lived was a fabrication of a lie.

That either he liked him.
Or she liked her.
As if being gay by choice.
Was their only reasons to rejoice.

Others loves to use scriptures only for certain things.
When the message God is love?
Is edited and turned around.

If gay.
Be proud be firm.
Always realize you can turn your life around.
If one day you seek to change.

Because it was a choice you made to be you.
And that is a decision that came honestly from you.
To love one of your kind.
Against the thoughts of others that loves to victimize.
Michael R Burch Sep 2020
Nida Fazli translations



Apni Marzi se
by Nida Fazli Shayari
translated by Mandakini Bhattacherya and Michael R. Burch

This journey was not of my making;
As the winds blow, I’m blown along ...
Time and dust are my ancient companions;
Who knows where I’m bound or belong?

Original Poem:

Apni Marzi se kahan apne safar ke hum hain,
Rukh hawaaon ka jidhar ka hai udhar ke hum hain.
Waqt ke saath mitti ka safar sadiyon se,
Kisko maaloom kahan ke hain kidhar ke hum hain.



Failures
by Nida Fazli
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

I was unable to relate
the state
of my heart to her,
while she failed to infer
the nuances
of my silences.



Every Day and in Every Direction
by Nida Fazli
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Everywhere and in every direction we see innumerable people:
each man a victim of his own loneliness, reticence and silences.
From dawn to dusk men carry enormous burdens:
all preparing graves for their soon-to-be corpses.
Each day a man lives, the same day he dies.
Each new day requires the same old patience.
In every direction there are roads for him to roam,
but in every direction, men victimize men.
Every day a man dies many deaths only to resurrect from his ashes.
Each new day presents new challenges.
Life's destiny is not fixed, but a series of journeys:
thus, till his last breath, a man remains restless.



Couplets
by Nida Fazli
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

It was my fate to entangle and sink myself
because I am a boat and my ocean lies within.
―Nida Fazli, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

You were impossible to forget once you were gone:
hell, I remembered you most when I tried to forget you!
―Nida Fazli, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Don't squander these pearls:
such baubles may ornament sleepless nights!
―Nida Fazli, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

The world is like a deck of cards on a gambling table:
some of us are bound to loose while others cash in.
―Nida Fazli, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

There is a proper protocol for everything in this world:
when visiting gardens never force butterflies to vacate their flowers!
―Nida Fazli, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Since I lack the courage to commit suicide,
I have elected to bother people with my life a bit longer.
―Nida Fazli, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch



Keywords/Tags: Urdu, translation, translations, love, heart, state, life, death, destiny, fate, breath, mrburdu
Seher Seven Dec 2015
some topics are taboo.
it seems this is so,
at the root, these lies,
discover you and me.
our natural true beings.
so there they stay
cloaked in a definition of taboo,
almost respectfully,
sitting for centuries,
gaining energy, changing mind.

I say let's dig out these, too.
re-defining will take time,
though today a word,
a thought, a stream of us
came through,
can I hash this out with you?

victimization - it's synonyms are
deception, fake, con, fraud,
deceit, dodge.
dodge...
the antonyms, truth, reality, honesty,
peace...
dodge peace,
sure this is only a piece,
it's these things I need to talk through,
is this revolutionary for you, too?

****, victimization is a hoax,
well, of course, suffering is choice,
we are the power of the stars,
ok, let's see...
it seems, WE,
collectively
needed a break from the murky
waters of Pisces, like WE
need expansion in all forms of
technology.
it doesn't free though because we
think we can be victimized, governed.

now, hold on,
we create what we see,
so we victimize ourselves? (I choose to govern me)
instead of choosing to suffer
we can choose to create a new reality.
the subtleties are deafening now!
groping at my sleeves
begging to get out,
to be launched down
inject the network with our worth.
birth to death to birth,
we are God, source,

new definitions must be formed,
new books written,
new paradigms were living,
be free or not,
it's your choice.
Jordan Frances Dec 2014
I see things inside my head
They come and go like snakes
So easily slithering through the dark and dripping places
Making their homes in broken ruins
Taking my heart and twisting it
Making my mind believe things that are not there.
People call me crazy
Try harder they say
Things will get better with time they say
They do not understand that
My mental illness does not have an on and off switch
A magic button I can press to turn me sane
As if I can pick and choose when my hallucinations color my mind
As if I can pick and choose when panic attacks destroy my sanction
As if I can pick and choose when depression rolls like thunder through my thoughts
My mental illness never came with an owner's manual
I do not have explicit instructions teaching my how to breathe
During episodes of PTSD
I do not have a special tool kit
That can cure anxiety.
I do not have a way to ward off these things that are imagined
But they seem more substantial than most of my reality
They are the only constant I've ever had in my life.
However, my mental illness is also not a whip
That I wear around my neck
Using it as an excuse to victimize people
Using it as an excuse to get preferential treatment
Using it as an excuse for you to walk on eggshells around me
I use it as a reason, not an excuse
For my thoughts, my behavior and some of my actions
But I refuse to let it take me captive
To yield to its thorns in my wrist
Or the acid it forces down my throat.
I am not afraid
And I will use it as my superpower
Rather than my kryptonite.
Nefelibata Dec 2014
I will tell you my deepest secret
I will laugh at your silliest joke
I will be shy like you are my first
I will ******* like you are my one
I will give you my favorite book
I will listen to your favorite song
I will write for you
I will describe each part of you
I will remember each detail
I will call you every night
I will text you every hour
But then I will say it out loud
Im ****** and twisted
I twist each story
I victimize myself
Like I didn't **** with you
Like I didn't tell you lies
Like I didn't do any mistakes but being honest
But Im done manipulating
Even though I know I will **** it up again
And i will say but I was honest.
Dhaara T Apr 2017
You have spoken
Too many times
Only to shut them up
Each time, a little more
"It's your fault"
"Grow up, get stronger"
"Cut the drama"
"You attention-seeker"
Do you think, you're helping?
"I'm saying this, because I care"
One can see that you do, oh just how much you do
"Oh c'mon, it can't be all that bad!"
"I got out of it, so can you"
"You're NOT depressed, just sad"
"You're in depression"
"You need help"
"Go to a counselor"
"Get yourself checked"
"Learn to control your mind"
"Hush, don't talk about it. People will judge you."
"Sorry, you cannot get the job. Why don't you come back once you're in a better state?"
Help isn't help when the intention shows through
Which is clearly not to help
If you really care
If you're really human enough
Here's how to help
EMPOWER
Be humble
Reach out, but subtly
Do not victimize
Or tag a victim
Just be a friend
You'll help, their misery will end
Maybe not immediately
Hopefully, eventually
"You good?"
"I'm here if you need me"
"You're beautiful"
"I just want you to know, I care about you"
"Thank you"
"Sorry"
"I respect you"
"You'll find your way back, I have faith in you"
"You can do this, deep down, you know it too"
"You're awesome"
Smile
Laugh
Treat them like they're normal
Because they are
Just be sensitive...at least a bit
Because they're hurting
But fine, they'll be fine
They'll be more
You'll see
And smile when you do!
Depression is a topic close to my heart. A lot of people have been hit by it, some fought and are out, some still struggling. Some, unfortunately, succumbed. It isn't easy. The toughest thing is that people don't know how to interact with those who are battling. Everywhere, the victim is lectured, while the lecturer is often no different from the victimizer.

Here's an article I wrote about how not to talk to someone who's going through depression, out of my own research, interacting closely with victims and helping some out of it, and also out of having been a victim myself, in the past - http://www.filtercopy.com/posts/9-things-you-never-say-to-a-person-battling-depression
Alexsandra Danae Jun 2013
Well *******, Mr. High and Mighty ******* Man
Don't give me that ugly face, squashed into a most vile shape, a pitying look
I'm not your concern, and I'd never wish to be for one so emptied
I haven't forgotten how to stand guardian over my space or grounds
I'm liquid in movement, effortlessly able to ****** from the air every stone my enemies throw
Breaking down their walls, their homes with their own weapons, dancing and singing while they run and weep
I can find laughter in their crushed despairs and mangled hopes
So how is it that ignorance gave you the courage to dare allow me to see that face?
Your disgusted pity bright as day and glaring in the sweltering heat
I can clearly tell how you play, imagining me as someone you could victimize; someone weak...
I won't deliver a verbal warning, but regardless still, if you haven't removed yourself promptly from my sight -
I'll show you just how mistaken your judgments passed in blind idiocy have been
You'll fall face first in the mud with all of the rest of these, my victims
For now time is out, and mercy is all but extinct
And anyway, what's one more self-righteous ****** going to change?
As so many pigs are now to be lead to their slaughter house curtain close
I'm too bitter, a irreversibly jaded executioner, lacking the patience to mind God or grace...
Well ******* again, lingering unaware of my rage, you've earned my vengeance as your fate
Shaun Meehan Nov 2014
air we breath
corroded by hate
the venom's bite pumped by heart
searing blood invading body, coursing vein
inciting rage, extreme acts unwarranted

grey, lost upon the world
grey, of dawn or dusk
signalling change though no more
bound instead by wretched cycle

where once was grey, now
black and white confused,
convincing everyone be right in cause
while all in parallel to err

hands, forgetting heart and ruled by mind corrupt
to be as children again, before ruin
innocent, curious to ask why

such horror to inspire and commit
cursed to look upon us
fear and wonder, admiration
false ideals the
greatest influence of their lives
robbing children their valour
by example we steal from them
most precious

ours, theirs
all victims, all destined to
victimize
tiny robots programmed to destroy
idea not their own
raised by fools, to become fools and raise fools

killing by vote and bullet
machine guns spewing streams of ballot
missile's payload concentrate of contrast opinion
artillery ordinance a rain of propaganda
bullets and bombs, on which scrawled
faith, race, and land
allegiance not to that which is them, but
to hollow party of privilege
for the sake of argument, not that which is right

teddybear victims,
torn, stained, growing
to ****—being killed before growing
made to suffer by dusty sin
like One-Third, atoning for the world

pray it not be them who judge as angels
recalling the misdeeds which hath befallen
innocent head

if had led the world
their demise, too grotesque for fiction
so far beyond cruel
most evil capable of their doing
might never see act

horror from depth so dark
drawn from plane beyond
to leave a scar on our own, a stain of remembrance
impossible to wash, despite deed's height
an ultimate violation of peace
so vile to make cringe the most stalwart
demanding shook from imagining

a moral guard must rouse
to stem atrocities' tide
volunteers, sacrifice ultimate and willing
an opposition to the perverse
who shrink from knight's brilliance
from that which is pure and valorous

soaring atop great raptor
choosing not to combat
but charge toward offering of self
for names unknown and person unmet

a breed rare, seeking neither fame nor thrill
but peace
to complete circle black that grey might return
that recurrence might see not light,
and chain be struck, obliterated

the highest of the low, display as peacock,
fanning to impress as they
from regal chairs rage debate, throwing a coward's stone
to err in belief knights harken their call
nay, never to those too crisp to combat
but, for them teddybears—
stuffing split, eye stitch torn, limp in anguish arms
never the silk necklace capable of sounding horn
knights heed only unspoken call

in defence of those without means,
incapable of further flight, to their arms they fold
being that in violent acquiesce of peace
that by threat of demise, and dauntless to see through
a commit to act of highest love
they might conjure to form the hope of hopes
that might rise—
the sepulchral dawn
Lost Causes

You’re on a path of self-destruction, my friend.
For you see only negation; and from that, the end.
All that circles you are the negative atoms,
So you must be too (two) positive, just fathom.
Therefore negation would avoid the path you see,
It’s simple chemistry.

Just understand that although love is what you seek,
And you feel this is happiness’ key,
You are mistaken, and blind; you cannot see.
You have not grasped life’s meaning, you are weak.
Companionship, dreams, truth and beauty are
the essence that life is supposed to be orientated around.
I’m your companion, and I understand.

I’m not the answer, forget that I ever was.
I am just an excuse, and ideology,
So that you can wallow in self-pity.  
And victimize all that you are,
But you fall from the sky like a star,
Beautiful, yet destructive.
All you need to do is Just Live.
Xan Abyss Oct 2014
Wolf whistles
And crocodile smiles
Acting like an animal
has never been my style.
I don't
Cat call
or creeper crawl
I'd rather slither on into your mind
I want to
Haunt you
Until you're mine
All Mine

I don't need
to violate your body
To consume
all of your thoughts
I don't need
to victimize you
To dominate you
Or be your God.

I'll attach me to each memory
You cherish in your life
Your mind I will monopolize
And then the world before your eyes

You set me ablaze
So you'll be my prey
Until I'm the central figure
of your story
Don't be afraid -
But there are many ways
A man can be
Predatory
The dating game is treated a lot like hunting. So I decided to write a little something on the nature of being a heterosexual male approaching a female stranger.
Wesley Espinosa Nov 2010
The root of all evil, set to victimize the people
Keep us separate but equal, justification is lethal
But the system isn’t see through, it’s affecting you and me too
And now we  must redo everything that made us feeble.

Now we must all give in to this suppressive prison
This world in which we live in has been filled with premonition
Oppose our own volition, our morals and our cognition
Listen to the vision of new accepted fiscal rhetorician

You claim to be a Christian with no moral intuition
But I don’t envision a Christian to think with his commission
But I may be incorrect and I may need to reflect
Nevertheless, it’s a greedy world what can you expect?
These words are Wesley Espinosa's and nobody elses.
Radwan Jun 2010
I do not feel anything for anyone.
I am alone... except for my rage.
I am the sun, I am the giver of light and my home is the darkness.
I am hope...
I am redemption and my home is despair, amidst the ******.
I am the seed of chaos
and I have sprouted in the heart of your concrete.
Your pillars are my prison,
but soon, very soon,
they will come crumbling down
and you will be left with no roof over your precious head.
No shelter from nature's wrath and no savior from the unknown.

My rage... My rage...
I cringe and flinch to keep it in its cage.
A futile effort,
for how can one cage a part of one's self and still be free, or even alive ?
Through my trials, I have come to understand many of the forms in which failure can manifest.
Used up and abused, my potential wanes.
Faced with my helplessness, it is not despair or surrender that beckons It is only anger that beckons

Yes, I am angry
Yes, I am hurt
and yes, I am hateful and filled with hatred.
And yes, I feel my waste.

My rage... My rage...
I cringe and flinch to keep it in its cage.
Beneath the weariness and below the darkness
a fury scorches my insides... for I have been deceived.
This is not my doing, this facade is not my work.
I do not wish to victimize myself,
but I also wish to assert that I am not the proprietor.
This sick act of ventriloquism was forced upon me
by one stronger than myself.

I am not myself and I am no one else.
I am without a form and without a voice.
My voice is that of the voiceless,
and you'll never silence the voice of the voiceless.
Rage
Kairee F Oct 2011
Note to self:

Get up.
Get the **** up
Off your sorry, beaten ***,
And stop being pathetic.

And know that trust is a lie.
No one tells the truth anymore.
No one knows anyone.
Best friends and lovers?
It's all an illusion.
Reality screams that
Trust is game.
Who can fool who?

And the one who is always there for you?
Always makes you feel like ****, right?
Just get the **** up.
And fix yourself.

You ******* up
Because your mind was clouded and hazy with care.
You somehow found logic in the illogical.
But you can't go back.
So get the **** up.

We all victimize ourselves
And pour the blame on others.
We all ignore the things that we do,
Both to ourselves and to those around us.
We don't even see ourselves because we're too busy
Finding flaws
In our friends,
In our enemies,
And then we can feel okay about who we've become.

Well, get the **** up,
And look into a mirror.
You did this to yourself.
Now fix it.
You're better than this.

Sincerely,
Yourself.



Get up, my friends,
And take a whiff of the big, fat "*******"
Freshly painted on my forehead.
Raquel Butler Aug 2017
Sometimes I feel like it's all just a game in my head.
I go from moments of intense emotion
to nothingness,
and when I finally feel okay
the cycle starts all over again.
And I can't keep these lightning shifts
to myself,
so I end up ruining everything
and everyone else.
And even when I recognize the behavior,
it shifts to a seemingly more innocent danger.
I can't help it,
and I can't victimize,
so I'll just make everyone hate me
so I'll just make everything die.
I don't think this is complete but I feel too numb to write anything good right now so this will have to do until I revisit it :)
So busy playing the Victim
we forget that we victimize;
So busy fighting the Terror
we forget that we terrorize.

So busy pointing the finger
at everyone but ourselves
that we ignore that we could be at fault
for the decimation of precious Freedom.

So busy bathing in Hubris
that fail to realize we may have earned such disdain;
So busy trying to establish control
we fail to see why others would disagree.

So busy trusting in Authority
we forget to stop and think
that perhaps Authority is a tool
used by those seeking Power.

So busy playing the Victim
we forget we've victimized;
so in the name of Peace, Security and Freedom
we'll **** you all who don't see it our way
'til none remain to disagree.
Paige Potts Nov 2010
the more you victimize me,
the more i lacerate my wrists.
Priyam May 2018
I don't know how I got this bad
A depressed mother
A chauvinist dad

I want to run away and start a new life
To be someone's soulmate
To be someone's wife

I cannot cross my dad
He raises his hand
Going against him is domestically banned

And all this while I stand broken
An emotional mess and not well-spoken
But I'm told I victimize-
Myself, and then I'm criticized

So be my guest and judge me mate
But help me out before it's too late
I am looking for happiness and that is all
I would let love be my biggest fall
Trevor Blevins Dec 2015
I.


I heard the words of two madmen
Telling me how to move through my recovery
And preaching on how to drink the prophetic nectar
For the cost of nothing but theoretical change.

I am clay in the hands of revolutionaries
Whose only violence was the execution
Of antiquated ideas,
Whose only wishes of censorship
Were rooted in the antiquated lies
Of their fathers before them...
The murderers of creativity.

The sermon I seek to follow
Is that by which the world
Is viewed through thick purple lenses,
And the glory of God is poured
Onto the landscape of life,
And into the souls rejecting the uniformity
Of selling each other for profit.

I'm sitting in the abyss as I claw madly
At the darkness for a companion
To share a hint of my humor,
The same humor I was told I sculpted
Out of invisibility.

Caffeine has become insufficient
For the sort of altered clarity
That my garden is planted above,
And I fear a Californian drought
Is about dry out this east coast.

I pay no mind to the geography
That you do not trace with your footsteps.

I pay too much mind to the geography
Where I last witnessed the lights strike your face,
And the reflection of your eyes
Signaled that I would soon walk out of Hell,
And lose sight of what kept me comfortable.

I am at the doors of eternity.

I must hallucinate you now,
With all your perfection wrapped around you,
While the water we aren't exploring yet
Is pulling you closer to every equator,
And yet, no farther at all from me.

I will define the pantheons above me
And I will blame every deity in due time.

You gave the lecture
That art was what encompassed our being
And you didn't have to convince me.

I know this connection
Better than the strongest adhesive,
But you failed to realize
That you are the pinnacle of art,
And all I can hope to do
Is make a proper interpretation.

Orbit around me while I try to make sense of you.


II.


You are a catalyst
At the heart of my poor decisions.

I should make a subconscious effort
To cast you onto the plane
Where I cannot fathom your existence,
And where poverty will enrich my wealth
As I forget you completely.

I have seventeen odes in my library
On the death of honesty,
How you won't forget the spell she cast,
And how it will always ******* up.

We are the victims of regulation.

You are the poster child
For the sin that is routine.

I am the bearer of standardized hatred,
And I will carry my burden through your castle,
Ruined with all the marble that you spend all day polishing,
And deciding your priorities, so stoic in nature,
I sentence you to burn in my place.

I turn my back on your eyes of monarchy.

I will bomb you, Empress,
By living without spite,
For how you asked me to punish you.
I couldn't comply because you knew not what you request.

I assure you I'm not impressed.

You cannot be placed in front
Of the collective firing squad,
Which inspired my cruelty long before
You decided to give up on me,
But your innate courage and arrogance
Still led you to make demands...

I severed the communication
And realized you never understood a word
Despite how you would mimic my words,
And demanded my affection
Without mind to the physical impossibility.

A clear proponent of solipsism you are,
Which is why you did not care to victimize me,
My executioner.

You tried to be merciful,
But merciful to yourself,
Slicing deeper into my disdain for you,
Sending the love of my miles to the guillotine,
And realizing you were imitating my constructive confusion,
But had no idea of how to contain it.

Perhaps there is a case for experience,
And my years among the madness.


III.


Evil in each of our hearts,
Yet the structure in the deepness
And darkness of your scorn
Has turned into torment for me,
And that's why I declare you alone insufficient.

You were so eager to profess how eloquent I was sounding,
Yet discredit me because I was a vacancy.

You knew I was *** without a body.

We had no rendezvous,
And you lied and said it was okay,
While staring over your shoulder and back at me,
And onto the assembly line upon which you told me I was an interchangeable part.

You alone told me I was free to wither.

There's an old power in my ear
And she knew her sway and influence
In telling me I better not die,
And that's where you truly lost me.

That was the moment where I knew
We had no future.
Elliott would be without his chance at life,
And the irony was enough to dissolve me then and there.

I have another select few words
And not all of them are clever anymore.

I do not aim to make you laugh,
Your conversation would not fulfill me.

I assure you I have a physical being,
Which cracked in half
At the resonance of this foreseen abuse.

You swear that it was the antiquity in my thinking,
The naivety in my convictions,
The loyalty and sense of commitment you had shed,
Yet aimed your flare cannon of ambivalence
Straight into my throat,
Forcing me to refuse my last supper.

I was sitting next to Kerouac,
Not Christ.

The sanctity you hated was a lie,
To clarify my sins.


IV.


You warned against dreams
Of planes plunging into the Willis Tower,
With steel supports weakening,
The hum of death tuned to eleven,
And the separation between us
Finally, finally expanded
In the only way left to do so.

My heart was in your casket.

You died along with endless dreams
Of fermented talent shows,
And the needles at which I cringe
Before they plunge into my eyeballs.

I awoke to your hand reaching out to me,
And distorting the constraints of modern linear time.

I felt your hand on my head
While you were dreaming of a metropolis.

Plotting was the only strong suit in my arsenal
And I had all the reason to believe
That this was the third winter,
And the world would not endure much longer...

Or perhaps it would endure without me,
Through some form of Utilitarian sacrifice...
But you were never a Utilitarian, sweetheart.

It was never in question.


V.

Stolen away,
And silent.
This hammock holds
So much more than my physical being.

I smashed my head
Against the ground
The night it opened up
And took me.

Hell was clean and orderly.

You told me to straighten up,
Without the slightest hint of irony in your voice
When you were trying to sound persuasive.

You are accidental
Down to the root of your purity
And there are canyon echoes
Shouting in both our heads tonight,
Begging to be put into action.

Gold lines my room,
The shimmer will keep me up.

You left candles lining my room
At the very moment you denied the angels
Which are buried inside my desk.

Lies were coating my eyelids.

I had to throw my common sense
Into the noxious dust storm
That you so tenderly termed eternal love...

And somehow it seemed like a holy deliverance,
Like I wasn't just clouded by serendipity
But that the oxygen was only now flowing,
And that this was meaningful.

You had to be the only genuine human
From a state which perpetuated superficial *******...
But for every ounce of encouragement
And tear drop of genuine compassion,
You confirmed that you were no better
Than a parasite, craving blood I did not produce...

The evolved leech you are,
You ripped yourself out
As to let me, Odysseus, have breath.

Very considerate
That you took the time
To throw me into the Thames,

Knowing I cannot swim.

We will all drown in solitude,
The peace is all that is optional.
Styles Jun 2014
Just realize that sometimes, these guys, tell lies; write in front of your eyes. Utilize thier visual lies, to victimize and brutalize people's lifes; your demise, they visualize, like its a prize. When you see it for yourself, you wont believe your eyes. Try Seeing people for what they are; end up, surprised.
Jack Dalton Oct 2013
Michaels a coward,
Stupid Michael layed down.
The beds a horrible way for
Michaels new business ideas.
What isnt turning the world toaday.
The Radio, my books, the ***** laundry.
Happy neihbors come back!
Ill be sure to undraw my blinds.
We must not victimize the barkingdogs.
After all, we do have to know whos responcible,
Although a bowl of Marrijuana makes us better people.
It wont clear up the countys public ban against the peacfull nights.
Nicole Jimenez Dec 2014
I cried simply because I could. You made it that way. You made it easy for me to do things that are selfish or dramatic, you allowed me to be human and most of all, to be honest with myself. You made it easy for me to not feel ashamed. When I cried over the phone it was because even on my worst nights when I would stab you in the chest, you would pull the blade out and apologize for getting blood on me. When I was violent, you were gentle. I do not mean to victimize you or demonize myself, but that is as raw as the truth will get. I cried because the bed space next to me was empty, and I cried because the grace of an angel does that kind of thing to you. I felt like a drug to you and you would always let me know that you were addicted, delirious, demented and proud. And in favor, I too would let you **** me as long as it meant that you ran through me every second of every day.
You told me that when you DO think of her, you see the image of the 17, 18 year old you sitting on your bed, across the room where it used to be, crying on empty nights, an empty mattress, an empty chest, and perhaps empty bottles or empty promises as well. That you had to classically condition yourself to not let her cross your mind, because it became a routine for you to let the torture flood your lungs, and leave you out of breath. I asked you what you thought of when you think of me, and you said your bedsheets. You said that when it comes to me, it's the image of a new you, a new person fresh out of old skin, sitting on your bed, near the window where you moved it to a couple of months ago, with the sheets perfectly layered and fixed, simply because I know how you love it so. I remembered an annoying peeve that you had, a quirk, or a typo in the page. I memorized it, simply so that I could fix it, and save you the trouble. You said that it was something so minimal, yet it meant so much. When you spoke about me and when you spoke about her, you spoke of two different people who came into your life that symbolized two different you's, but to me you were always the same person just eating different things for dinner, and bathing in different temperatures.
12/1/14
Redshift Jun 2015
it's so amazing how easily i can determine
that i was not insane for a year and a half
now that you no longer block out the sun.

yeah, maybe i still can't look at your face
because i am so afraid to see you and have you trick me back into sympathy and compassion.

me, the girl who loved a ******.

maybe jesus taught me too well to love those that persecute me
he made me to fall in love with the man who grabbed me by the wrists and held me down.
would my father
would my pastor
would anyone
honor me for the sacrificial love i displayed for a year and a half
holding him
giving myself to him
loving him
would they pat me on the back
and say that i truly understand the love of god
letting a man ravage my life
for a year
and a
half

i don't even know the months anymore.
i've stopped counting
because i've stopped torturing myself
because i no longer can say
"here is the day he took it away from me
and here i am, still letting him over and over again."
the months past do not matter now.

i will start counting for a different reason:

1 month since i told him enough is ******* enough
2 months since i cut my arms open, writing my sins in my flesh
3 months since i decided that jesus was wrong
that loving my enemies will **** me
make my insides rot
that not loving this enemy
is simply
self preservation
4 months since i got my voice back.
5 months since i started to feel a heart beating in my chest again instead of a hollow socket
6 months since i laid in bed my head and tongue bursting with hate at the mere thought of his hands rough against me, mouth against my ear
7 months since i stopped lying to everyone around me about what really happened that first night
8 months since my body revolted as my mind toiled on in utter confusion, darting from one frightened thought to the next
9 months since i had to worry about carrying a child that he conceived alone
10 months since i beat my head against a cement wall, trying to smash the memories
of what he did to me
11 months since i hugged his mother and met his family wanting to tell them they had a ****** predator for a son
1 YEAR SINCE I LET A BOY CONSUME THE ESSENCE AND JOY AND PURITY OF WHO I AM AND WHAT I WISH I COULD BOLDLY STAND FOR.

i will count the future months
on the gritty pockmarked sidewalk to recovery
until i find again my way
to a sound mind
a sound body
and a sound heart
victimize me no longer,
you who removed from me my innocence
and hung it around my neck
like an albatross that i shot
and not you...

to love again, will be an awfully big adventure.
it's not at all perfect or really as well done as it could be but i don't really care. i'm proud of myself.

— The End —