Advertisements

*a black heart drowning in euphoria*

Latest

No Elegy

March. One equinox has gone.
Thoughts swirling but in a fading spring
when flowers start to bloom

if they have not died in winter flames…

Writing films in my head with a held-back pen –
Stolen songs orchestrate the score.

Cherry blossoms make me blush no more…

Every now and then
my presence is no longer felt.
The sunlight awakens
every now and then.
Random restlessness
play a dirge for the dire thoughts that are too relentless…

I laugh with a katana five millimeters
left of my heart,
Admiring how torments come from what may never be art!

Who dances to dirges
and what kinds of dances would those be?

We all know the sun doesn’t set.
We all know the sun doesn’t rise.
We make and take same illusion to relish
our cages repeatedly
by “its”

glorious captivation,

because we are tired, being the ones in constant motion…

Who said illusions aren’t real?

Who murders dreamers?
Who rapes visionaries while covering their faces with the stinking clothes they took off to violate?
I wrote this song for I think we’re ending
If we haven’t ended yet.
But this in no elegy

for it is an ending that never ends and

Advertisements

My Baby Aquaman

My little tenor
My great big hero
With stellar eyes
That enshrine the skies
My spotless joy
Who makes me whole
Who gifts me with
My salient role
Whose laughter showers
Me with peace
Burning sorrows
Into scents of ease
Resilient one
And Baby Aquaman
Love vaster than seas
Exceeding what man can
Who strides in his paths
And sings and laughs
Like every sense
In most brilliant paragraphs
Flower charmer
Jolly soul
Enchanted by
The things you know
The way your eyebrows cross
Each time you speculate
The way you make me laugh
Repeatedly until my jaws would ache
The way you teach yourself
to speak our languages
Kreiscircle! Until you finally could say correctly “rectangle”!
Right after octagon
And nanogon and pentagon
And learning how to write with polygons

A zzz
The letter A as you turned two
Count to fiveteen sixteen
Then finally fifteen to seventy two!
Painting abstracts in your own way
Swirling fingers to draw your shapes in the air…
Painting the pricelessness of life
Saying and singing God bless the moon and the stars
Falsetto when shy
Nothing can break your melodies the moment you try..
Dancing so gloriously
There’s nothing that you don’t do so happily…
Claiming the time that I owe you each day
As you’re patient enough to let go when I can’t stay…
You are my everything,
What makes a queen worth giving a crown
What makes the drowned undrown..
My little tenor
My great big hero
You summon sweet infinity
From a point less than zero
Keep singing your songs
Preserve your keen and innocent ways
Keep daring as you do
Keep finding the marvel outside and within you..
You’ve moved mountains before you were born…
You can never be broken. You may never be torn.
You are light like Christ,
You’ll rule the days and the nights!
Keep seeing the world as God had made it to be
Keep seeking Him everywhere
And be who you’re meant to be..

Forensics Of

535160_3351538261477_21626289_n

I’ve been zoning out from reality
Dreaming of dreams that will never be
Life that time has stolen from me
People who I’ll never meet or meet again…

My soul caught fire when I’ve settled for hell
Disguised as this world
Now no man can save me.

I’ve drank a cup of fire
And I’m vomiting cold blades
I keep losing myself in the gloom of these seven shades
The worst truth is that I have never lived a lie
…and I have never lived
and I can’t wish I never did.
Undrown me so I can breathe!

I can’t wish I never lived
even if Truth be this.
When I’m morose I master my expertise
When I’m a master they think I’m diseased, decreased or deceased.
Where then shall I maintain my honesty
If it has no place in every society?
Forensics of a poet’s tragedy

Physics of the bullets of agony
That missed my brains and bludgeoned my heart without touching it…
Gun ballistics and fluid dynamics
When the scenes are so serene
But the past is a redout.

Blackout!

How many times, without dying, did I really end my Life? Did I?
How many crimes of mediocrity have unmade me?
How many dead stars extracted my wishes from my memories?
How many vultures have been staring at me for all eternity
While I lay petrified watching corpses rise as zombies

How deep, severe, have I been severed,
immersed in the wailing of sunshine..
Why was sunshine wailing?
Though I feel like a dancing skeleton with flappy hollow wings
I’m not the ghost that’s pointing at me.

I keep doing the forensics of my own tragedy
When I dream of dreams that will never be
And ache for the Life that probably eludes me…
Until I can see the people who are still really there.
Then,
Like a moon at daytime hiding behind a burst of clouds
I zone back to reality
And see what I can make of me.

Where Oh Where to Take the Stars

535160_3351538261477_21626289_n

Where oh where oh where to take the stars,
My dearest, sweetest whom I must guide away from liars…

Time stretches her arms to extend despondency
Autumn mirrors my melancholy….

Yet the world’s sourly wrought ages,
Wrinkle primitive inclinations…
Unembraces callously
Beings composed in disintegration…

A contained container with contents somewhere else…
The song of the wind in a planet Mars….
Ridiculous words that deceive the self-proclaimed
Astronauts who have never seen the stars…

We’ve ceased to understand what impediments are
As we merely speak of them from our inner gnomes…
Scattering ourselves without motion,
Feigning malfunctions in our chromosomes..

If tides and currents make good scours
We’ll be mistaking them for scars…

Maxims, Axioms, Dictums of who?
Unbuild my dreams and break my rhymes…
Meridians prime, where I can’t find
The over-stalked lover in Pacific’s crimes

Magnetic Storms cast me frozen
While I hold the burnings stars…
I must stretch Time’s arms even longer
For a diameter’s half that breaks seven bars…

My dearest child, kept in gray
I hope we both don’t ever go astray…

Strained Epoch

Not Quite King But Still

Strained, stranded, strained epoch.
In my moors you were a monarch.
I chose my gardens
And wept for shoots scattered lost in unwilling population…
Magnificence was stripped off me.
I was skinned off my sweetness
My beautiful woes and sorrows, no longer succulent.
Devoid of sympathy
Sugar-coating with apathy.
I gave myself away to the world…
Their selfies and definitions (so sickening)
Based on owned technologies exalted in false worth.
Lost to genius…
Clouds transformed into mere storage
For our mental waste
Corpses from emotional tragedies…
Violence spreading
From keys without notes, beginning.
Blindly connoting,
While the real world and word go missing…
I choose you in another world and life.

Almost The Saddest Poem

_n

I wanna sing the saddest songs as if I would die…
Pre-death pre-burial requiems…
Lethal notes… Morose words and non-words…
I wanna sing the saddest songs as if I would live forever –
Forever in the dungeons of my benevolence.

And then, I wanna cry my soul out as if I’ve lost God…
But first, wish that I still have a soul for I no longer know…
I wanna run in circles within an untamed wilderness
to feel that I am not lost, in circles, running and wanting untamed…
after my tears have equalled the waves of all the world’s seas
including her… her tsunamis of centuries…

I want to find myself at the edge of a snow-capped mountain and never rest
then scream my frozen lungs out after expelling my guts,
scream until I hear only the sound of my recovered voice –
the one that could read and write sadder than almost the saddest poem…

Distorted and soul-starved,…

What did I say?

Straving for my soul,
I don’t ache to feel a little less alive…
Nor do I merely ache…
My madness does not represent a longing for joy.
Madness sways beyond the barbwires of longings.
Thus, not even a longing for death.
(You don’t need to die to be dead).
My loneliness is not soothed by company.
Loneliness is glory!
My burden blinds with the northern lights best in darnkess.
My passions severe the cosmos with their controlled nonexistence…
There is nothing more worse for me and ill
than the brooding mediocrity when I do not sing when I will.

—–
NOTES:

“Almost the Saddest Poem” is a remake of The Saddest Poem. But herein, the context changes somehow but the end-point remains. How can not being able to sing (no matter how you sound or don’t sound as silence can be music) be so sad? P.S. The titles have nothing to do with the levels of sadness in each of them.

Did You Know About Anchors?

(First Unfinished Draft and Middle Part)

Beautiful Souls

From a journey through layers from the ocean floor
We’ve smiled at its species, as we lovingly drawn close to their open doors…

Oh how man would give up his breaths,
To say hello to a clown in anemones…
And no matter how relentlessly expiring,
Life holds eternity in moments like these…

When I rose above the ocean water,
You were walking, satisfied, towards the shore.. .
My vision was still filtered and blurry
Yet I was magnificently seeing more…

Rain drizzled down enchantingly
On the calm and waveless sea…
It was bright and dim and dark all at the same time
In a moment of Life most sublime…

And as water kissed water
The sun couldn’t help but provide
A unique spotlight for every unique drop
And made the glow in your soul even more bright…
Suddenly, diamonds were dancing afloat,
Surrounding our humble family boat…
Their sparks froze such serene Settings in fleeting eternity
But the focus remained on the man Still walking slowly ahead of me…

Did you know,
That I see through your eyes and from my own?
It is a gift of gifts within me…
That you have sown and grown…

%d bloggers like this: