Heart Controller

True Design

2012-01-20T06:47:00.001+04:00

Yet entities are ungrateful of who they are,

Forgetting their creation and their death,

As if living without any rules to abide with,

Similar to animals, alas, worst than them.

We were created from clay then a clot,

Specific guided regulations made a lump,

A foetus is created, then the white bones,

And clothing them with flesh into entities.

Endless blessings, one after the other,

And then destined to be housed in graves,

Another life far from the first vivid one,

And then, to Him, we all indeed resurrect.

Saturday, 14^thof January 2012

Half-Drowned Rock

2011-12-17T00:50:00.001+04:00

This is a short story about you and me,

It starts with a chapter about a beach,

Filled with birds, rocks, sand, and sea,

Summarised in these few lines to teach.

A young curious bird approached me,

I was sitting still cross-legged for hours,

Glancing at the wonders of the vast sea,

He questions about your kind and ours’.

“What part of this beach do you like most?”

“Rocks that are half-below-half- over -the-sea.”

The water is but the temporary life (lost),

The sand is divided preaching the word ‘free’.

Conversely, the rock is made up of sand,

Though united within one solid entity,

Not drowned in this life and left to strand,

Lost and delusional; no purpose nor identity.

And not into worship without a nice rest,

From this temporary life completely away,

For Allah likes to see His blessings stressed,

Thus, my rock is the choice of pray and play.

The curious bird stood still as if a gnome,

Listening to the profound disclosed novel,

It has ended so now you can go home,

Recall, this is only a chapter from a novel.

Saturday, 17^thof December 2011

Striving Civilisation

2011-12-04T11:27:00.001+04:00

Trends and calamities will prevail in a chaotic city,

Reach an uncertain sector, a university, to infect,

Uncivilised despite the adequacy of data feasts,

And hence my seclusion to a natural wilderness.

Beaches filled with sand, rocks, birds and water,

No humans if I timed it correctly; cold rainy nights,

Just me and them drawn together as if an entity,

Our lengthy conversations are mere observations.

I retreat if when the ocean intimidates my feet,

I disparage small rocks fallen from majestic cliffs,

The sand accepts my toes to produce blueprints,

Whity foams glide to enter the gate of insanity.

Birds asked me: “Which part of it do you like?”

I answered: “The rock whose half above water.”

To know why I adore the half-drowned rocks

You have to have patience and wait for a novel.

Sunday, 4^thof December 2011

At a Crossroad

2011-11-07T03:28:00.002+04:00

Soul’s only comfort is to feel the grains of sand,

Taken from Land of purity, serenity, and charm,

Longing to meet my elegant people in the Land,

The Land is over the seas and under the storms.

Once upon a whole new world resides a flower,

In territories further up north from the original,

But self’s Origin is, from it just a bit northwest,

Saddened by fate separating flower from Land.

I have arrived at a crossroad of copious paths,

I should take that of the Land, albeit tortuous,

Me united with the northern flower is up to fate,

Although, new flowers do continuously blossom.

Monday, 7^thof November 2011

Day 20 of Mission 43

2011-10-20T15:07:00.000+04:00

It is a night like this that the elders feared,

Look at the glowing moon how blue it is,

And a subtle wind with a bloody odour,

Lost weapons, armours, both mine and his.

We are born fibbers and fearless hunters,

Though, tonight is not ours to speak falsely,

And albeit he is lazing alone against the rock,

His body so tense and agitated immensely.

Tomorrow we wait for the calm breeze,

And bid farewell to this old black forest,

Only to return and continue our mission,

Assassinating him and his sons we arrest.

Thursday, 20^thof October 2011

Searching for You

2011-10-09T01:53:00.002+04:00

Tricklingrain and thunderous lightning,

Whispering windand rustling leaves,

Concealedmoon and dark forests,

Murky nightand black creatures.

Damp soiland central campfire,

Uprighttents and crackling sticks,

Breathingdeep and silent tears,

Seven menand eighth inscribing.

Weary brainand ashen heart,

Painfulchest and burning eyes,

Callousedfeet and quivering hands,

Empty hugsand forlorn kisses.

O’ wind O’wind convey my words,

O’ echo O’echo tell us how far we go,

O’ wife,O’ love, O’ pure lady,

O’ where mywife? Where are you?

Saturday, 08^th of October 2011

Made to Trade?

2011-09-15T14:40:00.001+04:00

A learned speaker once told me to be direct,

I would assume he was a professor of shade,

Painting my quality through an iron object,

Or pottery of poetry within castles to be made,

So I did, hidden symbolic letters to resurrect,

Whilst my deep secret passions I so forbade,

Strangers of unknown origins eyes to suspect,

For the innocence of one’s self has decayed,

Apart from that I wrote outdoors to recollect,

Earth Whisperers hinting for a danger to evade,

For a direct poem I needed a subject to select,

Here, a couple of shiny dirhams for us to trade.

Thursday, 15^thof September 2011

2011-09-05T16:54:00.004+04:00

The Time has deceived new fleshes and one diamond,

This delicate carbon’s radioactivity burnt many fruits,

This despicable leaf regrew its stalk but soon to shatter,

Broken heart, boiled brains, blasted limbs for star’s trash,

Infamous galleries selling unwanted portraits of lazy wells,

And I have spoken to Time to rewind; to reverse; to delete,

Though, it seems a fruit welded the broken iron chains,

And its flesh has become ghastly dwelling on rotten mud,

And sounds of wisdom call for followers to retrieve it,

Except, the eminent Time has now gathered a crown.

Friday, 14^thJanuary 2011

At the Bus

2011-09-05T16:43:00.003+04:00

I just arrived at the bus stop tired as she took off,
Waited for an express route to reach before her,
But our meeting had to be postponed another day,
My mind soon forgot her as days turned into years,
Then, thirteen past five in the afternoon I saw her,
Just missed the bus I was in as she ran to the stop,
I kept my eyes on her figure as she blurred away,
Far into the horizon hoping she would catch up,
But the heart left a small hope until the next day,
Or so I thought; yet, in reality it took extra years,
Another forgotten memory relapsed in a bus,
The official meeting, or so I dreamed or imagined,
Suffice to say, it was on that precise bus I met her,
Indeed, a meeting of many meanings or none at all,
It was fully crowded and no seats were available,
I walked to the end and stood as she did, too,
And there I was standing a breath away from her,
She kept looking at me straight into my eyes,
We stayed like this for the entire scenic journey,
No vast questions asked no vast answers inquired,
Then, I parted away into my own little life; normal.

Friday, 27th of May 2011

On the Low Cliff

2011-08-27T02:56:00.000+04:00

Soon will he desert his post after such a long time,
A reason I do not recognize as he only looks there.

Can you see the horizon? The place of dusk’s rebirth,
I figured maybe a mystical sea drawing him to gaze,
Or insanity driving him to believe in mythical creatures,
Or just waiting; longing for a friend on a vast ship.

I have shouted with a couple of rocks I have thrown,
Yet, to him I was a gust of wind passing by as a whisper,
No message is carried and no message will be sent,
Just his eyes darting onto the horizon for the setting Sun.

A reason I want to understand eradicating this haze,
My small wooden ship that I sail would not distract him,
Nor the everlasting errands I am shouting to the crew,
Will he not share his hardship? Will he ever end his stare?

Friday, 12th of August 2011

Remember Yesterday!

2011-07-21T11:53:00.003+04:00

Have I ever wondered around here as a little kid?
Walking, jumping, or would you call that skipping?
There was sand – quite a lot, as a matter-of-fact,
Mixed with gravels, though I was not there alone!

Who was I with at that warm humid sunny noon?
Was I there to play or– what on earth was I doing?
I cannot recall this long palm tree with fallen dates,
Or that tent, which, in my opinion, looks ancient!

It must be a school trip or something, was it now?
But, why can I remember the vast amount of sand?
Wait, I was holding something extremely valuable,
Some sort of fancy inscription: the bottled letter!

Thursday, 21st of July 2011

To Her

2011-07-21T11:51:00.000+04:00

Her dazzling brown eyes darted onto the unwelcomed fashion,
Pureness from life, a diamond, a pearl, a glistening entity so rare,
A cute girl, a majestic lady, a surreal angel, an Earth Whisperer,
And I am her loyal servant, her guardian, her powerful shield.

Fashions for the ill-minded too daft to read and show respect,
They and her clash for a moment or two to explain and submit,
Baffled yet aware of their mistakes bow to her royalty in shame,
I, an observer behind sunglasses, in agreement with her soul.

Indeed, the world tests us by estranging our people, our minds,
And greatness has multiple faces with distinct consequences,
Thus, meeting a deserted entity fighting for loathsome fashion,
A battle to come. No wins. No losses. But a plain defiant sign.

She, on the other hand, speaks honestly from heart to reach,
Advice given with no cost to the lost, confused or even well,
To her, I have engraved my thoughts, my words, my poem,
In hope of finding others to serve, guard, shield as I do to her.

Wednesday, 20th of July 2011

People and I

2011-06-19T06:12:00.002+04:00

Age with infamous Time and a bit of coincidence,
Led to the twisted establishment of rare people,
Soon to become in moralities: identical, forgetful,
In imaging techniques: extraordinary, deplorable,
In personality: questions and absolute confusions,
Many whom I have walked past; none have I met,
And so I be, a person shaped into another being,
These long-lasting writing have almost tricked me,
No further will I generate a personality out of me,
Personifying a personification I found on the streets,
If so be it, me - an individual of you, quite homeless.

Sunday, 19th of June 2011

Haah in Winter

2011-06-12T17:33:00.003+04:00

Haah, a circular trend on a transparent window,
A dot here and another with a concave up; smile,
Haah, a bigger geometrical shape yet so similar,
A heart and a moment of calm, nothing to recall.

Haah, boredom overcame my numb emotions,
Wiping the window with two fingers; very chilly,
Haah, this time onto my fine fingertips to warm,
Then gazing outside at tonight’s busy city streets.

Haah, a talented sigh measuring pitch of sounds,
The driver on my left, a friend, took a right turn,
Haah, it was his’, louder with a deep emphasis,
I guess he was tired of driving for a day’s journey.

Sunday, 12th of June 2011

Hand Unit at Sydney Hospital

2011-06-07T15:39:00.003+04:00

I observed my kind hands for over twenty-three years,
But not as erudite as in the past four exquisite weeks,
I touched the high ceilings and walked on warm roofs,
Or so I tried as if no books to read or learn or lecture,
Rather, reasons did encircle the everlasting calligraphy,
Thus, under today’s wise men I pursue deep footprints,
With the delicate women’s hands in the field observing,
Together, an elegant team; hand unit at Sydney Hospital.

Tuesday, 7th of June 2011

Queries

2011-06-01T15:38:00.000+04:00

His questions came out of nowhere as if now and here,
I stood on a wooden bridge in the middle of somewhere,
Yes, it was here and now that his power and pride rose,
Against the vulnerable circle of life living another century.

He asked me about the twelve months of our short year,
I answered with alphanumerical equations signifying nil,
Yes, short but nothing of great importance for his likes,
To him life and death are but particles of grains of sand.

He asked me about twenty four hours and a day’s misery,
Rather rhetorical, or that what it seemed for I was silent,
Yes, hours of rhetorical movements of his limbs on lands,
And slaves of the fields invade this little wooden bridge.

Wednesday, 1st of June 2011

Two of One

2011-05-25T17:07:00.000+04:00

He insisted on calling towards me,
I, on the other hand, was focussed,
Onto a being of colourful canvas,
He went to greet her as I walked,
The little girl with a pearl earring,
He opened his mouth as to speak,
I shut it awkwardly gazing distantly,
His urge let him hum a long song,
As I walked across the idle street,
He twitched and glimpsed back,
He shook my body aggressively,
And tried to detach for a second,
Excruciating pain causing numbness,
But without any fruitful outcome,
Tamed into a domestic kitten,
Hugging for a forgotten memory.

Wednesday, 25th of May 2011

Tea With Milk

2011-05-24T11:23:00.000+04:00

He turned a page, read for a bit, then bookmarked it,
He then stood and knocked on the door; my door,
I opened it and invited him to a cup of tea with milk,
He took a step then stood still and opened his mouth,
I tilted my head just a bit to show that I will listen,
But he closed it and continued walking to the table.

I sat on the carpet crossing my legs as he did, too,
He folded his arms as if cold then picked up the cup,
And sipped whilst glaring at me through the steam,
He placed the teacup back to its saucepan, ‘cling’,
He opened his mouth and spoke of the past; history,
I fixed few errs and agreed on many series of events.

He spoke of tomorrow and I disagreed on everything,
He spoke of marriage, of weddings and a bit of love,
He spoke of copious grandchildren and a bit of love,
He spoke of age and time and death and a bit of love,
His warm proud gaze broke itself into the self of me,
Aware of the mirror in front of me as I take another sip.

Tuesday, 24th of May 2011

Self-Talk

2011-05-14T00:46:00.003+04:00

“Him, I, he, it, and is will become one or two!”
Have I written this down so many times before,
And so did he, a person, an entity of all names,
I went further as I did before and listened, hmm?
Things of distinct value referring back to him,
He, on the other hand, had an awkward hand,
Moving as I show significant control and power,
Yet, he tries and wonders – still does – he or it,
To him I am I, and I am but my own dictator,
He assumes that I always walked on his path,
Inadvertently, it is he who constantly follows,
Him, he, it or I, an entity of all names, so rare!

Monday, 9th of May 2011

Patient Without a History

2011-05-04T13:18:00.002+04:00

I saw him pale-faced and shaking, eyes bulging out,
He ignored my welcome and presence in its entirety,
I stood stunned, static; took a step back, maybe two,
Asked, consented. Waited, then for a flash of a second–
He glared; studied my gesture, my smile, my blood,
The other second was his rejection folding his arms,
I saw him still pale-faced, shaking, but eyes full of grief,
Patient without a history, but utterly comprehensible.

Wednesday, 4th of May 2011

Soliloquy

2011-05-03T16:05:00.002+04:00

Speak to me about your world today. Tell me, once more.

Ideally, you should quit this blabbering; though you love.

Yes, and more; you and me, swim in your world. Explain!

Once more it is, I guess, and then peace to you forever.

So, how did it start? No wait! Tell me your world in future!

Yes, future is in your little mind, and explain is what you want.

No, yes, you guess, and you and I were here and there.

You and I were once there and here then over and under.

What do you say I speak first and then you can add.

Add syllables of meaningless words to create nothing but you?

Me, a heart, full of emotions and yet you speak of love?

I listen and I quote, and I wait and I act, but I never mask.

A pathetic act is a mere mask, but speak of love, now!

Now is where my world is and start now to continue later.

No, the so-called future is what all you think and never discuss.

Then become a vendetta, a blabbering icon of lawless love.

A great story untold, I believe, fabricated to your kind.

My kind and yours will continue to exist inside him with love.

You, out of all the organs, should never use that word.

I understand! The mind is in combat against your heartily love.

Stop this and seize my heart and become me for now.

What? No! Why? Merciless! But, could you really believe this?

You listen and you quote, so tell me what have I said!

I cannot, though, what is the reason? Scared? No! No way.

Did you know that you are adding meaningless syllables?

Wait............ yes, we are we, you and I, entities but an entity.

Tuesday, 3^rd of May 2011

Emotional Collision

2011-05-01T06:41:00.003+04:00

I rarely publish personal poems that are easy to understand without the use of metaphors and/or similes such as this one; titled 'Emotional Collision'. I am currently in conflict whether to share this poem or not. For now, I will keep it hidden, but I will share its contents. [deleted] I write this to let my readers recognise this poem since it is important to me. Maybe, too important or too scared for me to share. Yes, maybe both, but scared for sure.

Sunday, 1st of May 2011

Feelings Unheard

2011-04-15T12:33:00.000+04:00

When the lousy star competes with the mother moon,
And when all emotions strangle the sense of unification,
Past tense evolved and short-term memory loss initiated,
Enormous yachts marched into water dunes joyously,
Still, with all of the universe’s stars assessing his actions,
And posting smiles onto the houses, yet, few understand-

Understand the participation of the moon in his life,
A fulfilling sensation between two orbiting entities-

Copious untold stories with insecurities and hidden tales of forlorn entities.

One day, listen and take notes.

Wednesday, 13th of April 2011

A Trip

2011-04-15T12:31:00.000+04:00

I spent days figuring how to get out of this nest,
Along came an entity picking my fruitful youth,
Demonstrating paths of mesmerizing adventure,
Falling into another nest; distinct and foreign.

Flying over cliffs as if angels through the clouds,
Telling of things with black and white affinities,
And after long admiration they appeared distant,
Dwelling next to tall clueless farmer’s cannabis.

After night’s time was edible and a few yelps,
I gazed onto the sails, the beaches, the wells,
Remoteness allured the entity, though, in vain,
And I stood beside it cheerfully attending to care.

Saturday, 9th of April 2011

Time to Understand

2011-03-25T16:29:00.000+04:00

Whisper to your earthly self to elevate rather than relegate,
Share experiences of voiced practices empowering another,
Prepare speeches for the beasts about the beasts to unwind,
Scrutinize antique scripts of geographic geometric calligraphy.

Wait a moment or two and allow me to rewind an era or two.

Open-mindedness as described by the falling autumn leaves
Was but a source of hardship and agony. For an era or two
They have demonstrated the errs of beasts. And yet, for us
It was regarded as the future of this downhill path. For me
And many other storytellers we wait to stabilise these lines.

Where were we? In a sorrowful abyss? Or a fruitful garden?

Walk along newspapers and mingle with words to absorb,
Stand on hills and gaze with your eyes on leaves to reflect,
And present your perfect teeth to the lost mindful hearts.

Thursday, 24th of March 2011

The Time of an Era

2011-03-06T02:38:00.002+04:00

Whimpering wishes on wild wolves: Earth Whisperers,
Soaring over the study of scriptures and of symbols,
Perhaps, a petite period preaching the puzzled poor,
Or Time terminated the telling of a torn tale of trees,
Too timorous to tinkle their trunks as Time trembles.

A nature’s niche of naivety of noble nomads nimble,
Calling for continuous contemporary commitments,
To get the great goals and gallop on gorgeous gold,
Mighty men march into the marshlands and murmur,
Muttering melodiously to the most modest of men.

The errand of an eerie era is to eat the errs of Earth,
Yet, horrendous hostiles haunt humble holy humans,
Between the brutal battles bewildering the brainless,
And respectful rubies return to their realm rapturous,
Roaring their role in the remarkable robust resistance.

Sunday, 6th of March 2011

Words for You

2011-02-15T14:07:00.000+04:00

Speak voices of thunder to scar your lips,
Shout deafening silences across horizons,
Let prudent persons of life pay attention,
Allow the ears to accept earth whisperers,
Repeat the words for your heart’s content,
Cause an eruption to the mindless beasts,
Pray for yourself and for the less fortunate,
Letters of sword stab the eyes to shed tears,
Wound the tongue to mutter less and more,
Ordain the brain to serenity and prostrate,
Redeem your life from this imprisonment,
Demean yourself to the One the Only One.

Tuesday, 15th of February 2011

Your Days and Mine

2011-02-06T12:10:00.000+04:00

Talk to me loud and clear about your days,
The sun and trees; what nature conveys,
Dust sweeping the lands revealing a woe,
Is this the truth, tell me what you know,
The sky and the water as blue as this paint,
And breathe that air without having to faint,
I have heard of fresh and healthy greens,
And fruits full of flavours perfecting cuisines,
How were they made- oh right, it is hopeless,
I know that my purpose is just to live aimless,
But you know that the footprints I leave behind,
Need to be enormously large for people to find,
And ever I saw your ancient eyes I dreamed,
The days of peace where my heart screamed,
Tell me one more time about the true way,
That I can serenely follow without going astray,
And lead a nation’s people to worship Him,
With His mercy going to light from dim.

Sunday, 6th of February 2011

Losing Identity

2011-01-15T04:31:00.001+04:00

Walking amidst standing vivid trees falling gloomy leaves,
Reaching the murky waters whispering sacred symbols,
Weary yet carrying debts and caring for none but few,
Frequent flyers gaze on this new naked rotten part of bark,
Dancing rigorously dislocating arms and a star’s trickery,
Our leaves and yours; fascinated yet lost in black mazes,
A foot there and another drinking on thirsty tombs,
I stood on hills calling for listeners of identity retrievers,
Odd I might be, but a person with mind, body and soul,
And a tongue forged within the ancient blessed trees,
A lost item inside copious plants decorating the mud,
Still whispering hallowed codes frowning at fancy twinkles,
Thieves soaring over mausoleums borrowing wild leaves,
Never to return as a born leaf but a putrid grassy thief,
Forgotten Earth Whisperers die of poverty and hunger,
I keep touching them for remembrance; annual festivity,
If only Earth Whisperers were inhaled by those thieves,
If only the hill I am standing on was but a soulless monster,
Driving the persistent mirages out of the diseased eyes,
There I built a connecting bond between this tree and that,
Abseiling, jumping, and climbing for years turning antique,
But seizing the solid cable as I return to Hope of Whisperers,
Patience acquired whilst dwelling on barks of tall trees,
Pitying the falling leaves turning into stars of the mud,
Still whispering ancient symbols and to you I murmur “...”.

Friday, 14th of January 2011

Moments

2011-01-09T16:10:00.000+04:00

Step one – step two – block then attack,
Step three – step four – and then launch,
Step five– *RING RING* just hold a bit,
Continue training with the same routine.

“Hello! Yes? Yes, it is me. Aha, okay. When?
N-now? Aha, b-but– not a problem! Ba-bye!”

Climbing up the ladder is what I have done,
Stood on this long, narrow cliff and waiting,
Cheers and claps from the audience I hear,
Nerve-racking indeed, yet a compulsory step,
Step-step-step-jump-grab and swing; finally,
Swing... swing... swing-release-catch-swing,
Swing... swing... swing-release–

“Hello! Yes, speaking! What do you want?
I know, I just spoke to him! Yes, okay! Bye”

Climbing up the foremast just before sunset,
Heading west; eyes longing for a night’s birth,
G-golden-orange sparks the bowsprit brilliantly,
There! The universe’s soul is s-... s-... singing,
Still as a rock, but a heart’s pound is irresistible,
Cheers and shouts from the crew is what I hear,
And now to fly low on the ground with the sun,
Climbing up the mizzenmast just before sunrise,
Setting the sails, untying the ropes, yawning,
Waiting for the birth of a new day, a new hope,
Tick... tock... tick... tock... tick–

“Hi buddy! Yep, I just called! I just wanted to–
Pardon me? Oh, alright, no worries. Okay bye!”

Climbing up the ladder patiently and still climbing,
With long-shorts and goggles ready for a high dive,
Hand-leg-climb-hand-leg-climb and there I reach,
Walk-breathe-walk-breathe-walk-stop and wait,
Deep breath and looking ahead with loud cheers,
Concentrating on the types of turns and twists,
Picturing every movement in my nervous head,
Deep breath... one-two–

Sunday, 09th of January 2011

On the Veranda

2010-12-18T13:40:00.002+04:00

Rainbow clouds bathing under glamorous sunbeams,
Brisk of wind coating the shoulders as if a cold shawl,
Not paintings nor photos depicting a majestic scenery,
The body reacts with numerous involuntary shivers,
The colourful flowers, which were once petite buds,
Falling off bit by bit from this veranda; one-two-three,
It is the autumn’s destiny; an involuntary phenomenon,
Water was not scarce nor the glowing rays of the sun,
Not a lifecycle, but just descendents of one another,
Beings living a life similar to that of ours with ancestors,
Then comes the wind, blowing, picking those in need,
And I stand up and walk through the opened windows,
Seeking warmth and the mobile phone rings: “hello!”

Saturday, 18th of December 2010

Frozen Flesh

2010-10-28T03:45:00.003+04:00

N-no, stay, why, stop it, oh stop it, s-stop weeping,
I feel cold, I am so afraid, I cannot, oh I cannot cry,
Nor can I shiver and remove these hazy emotions,
Alone in the dark with mud's the only companion,
No, my doings, the good and the bad, all of them,
I lie still, still as a statue, pausing, I am still alive,
Hearing the people's footsteps leaving me behind,
I am alive, but I need to catch a deep last breath.

Waiting, waiting, and w-

Frozen flesh

N-no, not yet, I am not, no, please I am not ready,
He is taking me, guys, come back, don- leave me,
I am gone, but give me a second, back, back I want,
It hurts, n-no, I mean y-yes, I am gone yet a-alive,
This is the proof, why, take it, that is the evidence,
Nooo! Stop talking, stop it, yes I did, but because-,
Guys, look at me, touch my flesh, hear my screams,
If only you knew, still, what would you have done?

Thursday, 28th of October 2010

Mani Yunke-lo

2010-09-29T16:22:00.000+04:00

Micastu sumanitu taka,
Na wiyakapi leciya naju oskapa,
Miwicasa, mioyate,
Mihelti aka mimakoce,
Hehatu wakpa,
Kici tawicu na ciksi,
Na istime mahel wicoti ocoze.

Micastu nahahci sumanitu taka,
Na wiyakapi ile,
Miwicasa nahahci, mioyate,
Wana miakicita,
Le nahahci mimakoce,
Hehatu wakpa,
Mahel wicoti isna la.

Maoyuspe wahin kpe,
Maza su micante papala ape,
Miwe caku zugzuka,
Tka nahahci naji wakatu ya na haske,
Ska tatanka ihakab miye,
Na le okicize mikicizapi,
Mihukapi, mikicopi. Malakota!

Monday, 26th of April 2010

The Bottled Letter

2010-08-31T17:44:00.002+04:00

Stretching out on the golden diminutive granules,
Opening the eyes resisting the sun's blazing beam,
Barefoot and toes dancing through the cold breeze,
Holding a 'bottled letter' on the right hand; relaxing.

Dozing then waking from a toddler's joyous laugh,
Sitting up still grasping the poorly shaped letter,
Finding it rather attractive but it spoke of tomorrow,
Days of reconciliation from the bitter yesterday.

The author named "I"; the date not far from today,
From an indefinite location but a language I speak,
Written from right-to-left starting with اللهم لك الحمد,
Saddened by the beauty of tears, yet, optimistic.

"I" spoke of the ancestral origins of the humans,
Of the morals and values shared by the individuals,
Of the pin-pointed differences referred by organs,
And of the true path sought for a better tomorrow.

There the calligraphy ended before a tiny full-stop,
Folding the 'bottled letter' in halves and once again,
This time round holding it on the left upper limb,
And to my astonishment I laid on my back; relaxing.

Tuesday, 31st of August 2010

A Leaf

2010-07-24T04:58:00.002+04:00

Once upon
An autumn leaf
Dry and brown
A story told
Through the dance
Left and right
Kissed the ground
Stroked the sand
A tongue to speak
Language of
Sad and fear
I can hear
Loud and clear.

And I am once
Born to preach
Language of
Peace and love
Draw and paint
A thousand words
Feel my lips
Move apart
Hear my heart
Cry for just
But sure you know
The world you're in
Is but a show
That has an end
A happy one.

So hear me say
One more time
A story told
A thousand words
Be sincere
Persevere
And you will be
A charming leaf
Red and green
Full of life
Peace and love
Once upon
A Saturday.

Saturday, 24th of July 2010

Blessed are We

2010-06-08T15:55:00.001+04:00

There is a time when the heavy rain,
Declines to face the atrocious sand,
And emerges on the horizon at dawn,
To fall from the sky above so high,
Onto the bricks and gates of a castle.

But deep down in his warm heart,
He wants to guide those who are lost,
He then cries out loud then he sighs,
And then the moon escapes the clouds,
Shining the light on the forlorn souls.

To be a part of this enormous castle,
To embed within its protective walls,
To evaporate into the clouds up high,
To become yet another heavy rain,
To drench tears from the souls of sands.

Tuesday, 08th of June 2010

Souls to Cure

2010-05-21T20:07:00.001+04:00

The wolf cries towards the advancing monsoon,
You saw his mystical and formless silhouette,
Saddened by speechless dawns and sunsets,
Howling endlessly for a believer's approach,
Finding a cursed contour of a leafless tree,
Digging its roots through the glowing graves,
Igniting little fragments of a yearned soul,
Generating diamonds held in a safety vault.

Saturday, 22nd of May 2010

Dead or Alive?

2010-05-13T13:42:00.000+04:00

What have I done? And damned this mentality,
Back then, a hell's curse poured out of my hands,
I promised to drop her off at the nearest park,
Father is wonderful or that is what she thought,
Until I excavated my entire soul and buried hers',
Crying silently with a faint but noticeable smile,
Rubbing the grains of sand off my chin and nose,
While hers I add and add and add and add and,
She never rose and screamed for a passerby's help,
But accepted her fate and this short life of hers,
What have I done? And damned this mentality,
I now grieve the day I erased her from this life,
It matters not if these cursed hands burn in hell,
I cannot bring her back to life to smile once more,
Replenishing my soul with the book of guidance,
Re-establishing the state of my mind and soul,
Seeking grace and mercy from the only One,
Guide me, love me, and forgive all of my sins.

Thursday, 13th of May 2010

A Cry From Hell

2010-05-11T15:20:00.004+04:00

Written by Candle of Hope, 17-07-2003
Website: http://candle-of-hope.com/

A cry from hell woke me up at night,
Something gripped my heart so tight,
The cry of whom which I don't know,
Piercing through my ears so painfully and slow,
I thought it was satan or some demon,
Or a person who was filled with evilness and treason,
Here again, the cry could be heard,
It shut everyone up even the humming bird,
The cry from hell seemed like a hopeless cry,
Maybe it was a demon just passing by,
The cry from hell called out my name,
At that moment I knew that it was no game,
It scared me a lot in some way,
So I wore my hijab and started to pray,
The cry from hell started to fade away,
I started to observe my sins since that day.

Gone to Return

2010-05-02T16:14:00.001+04:00

Deep within my pulsating crimson restful flesh,
I mourned the day I lost track of a dear entity,
Differences poisoning the mind with a shut gob,
But a believer of the One, the Most Merciful,
Not a close relative but a very precious brother,
Emotionless did he become as if a soulless object,
Crucial thoughts wonder in the middle of nowhere,
Mirage oases to follow ignoring the nutritious forest,
Diving into confusions of the chaotic black abyss,
Soon to forget the hanging rope and my existence,
Returning to Earth under the seven heavens above,
With a greeting from the unsolved puzzled face,
Writing within my pulsating crimson restful flesh.

Sunday, 2nd of May 2010

Life Cycle

2010-04-21T11:16:00.000+04:00

The waters of life break and a cry for life is craved,
Wrinkled moist skin soon to become a cuddly cushion,
Miracles of existence begin with domestic delicate arms,
Complete dependence, a leech, a monster, a parasite,
All but selfish accusations put upon a defenceless creature,
Rather, it is a treasure require cleaving and girdling,
Then polishing to produce an independent shining sun,
Ready to perform the rituals of cycle of life once more.

Wednesday, 21st of April 2010

Sand

2010-04-17T14:55:00.001+04:00

When a grain of sand is put on an exhaustive scale,
And when the fires of hell unwillingly swallow him.

A nearly non-existent particle climbs a mountain,
Sitting on a golden throne taking a peaceful nap,
With a sudden gush of wind the particle goes downhill,
And to his logic, the cause of his misfortune is the mountain.

An atomic grain hitches a ride with a chilly wind,
Dives back down then swirls ending with a somersault,
Hysterical euphoria invites this grain to insanity,
And to his logic, the cause of his misfortune is the wind.

A piece of sand granule fell upon a horse from the sky,
Galloping throughout the grassland jumping over fences,
With a sudden halt the granule lost his grip and fell,
And to his logic, the cause of his misfortune is the horse.

When a grain of sand is put on an exhaustive scale,
And when the fires of hell unwillingly swallow him,
The logic becomes illogic and heart and mind crumble,
Suffocating as the books of infinite deeds assemble,
Giving them another day or an hour to be thankful,
To believe in Him, to worship Him and to love Him,
But even a mere second given, nothing will ever change.

Saturday, 17th of April 2010

Youth Today

2010-04-11T11:29:00.002+04:00

I have seen today's youth pursuing a desirable but far mirage,
To them, a tender and honey voice produces a sixty second glory.

I have heard today's youth living on a miserable but wide edge,
To them, sixty seconds per day each day is what makes a day a day.

I have felt a stinging surface separating the society into selfish sectors,
To them, lighting colourful unneeded matches switches both sides.

I have drank the water from the abyss's well at the uneven wide edge,
To them, I made a surprise invitation temporarily abolishing books.

I have sat down next to those who wished death and rot upon me,
To them, salvation is by murdering the truth to live those sixty seconds.

I have played sports with professional winners at losing championships,
To them, a sacrifice is needed to win each game and to win the society...
... a merrier sacrifice is predictably achieved.

None shall become one under an umbrella until the light of faith
Shines through the horizons onto the hearts of mindful traders.

Sunday, 11th of April 2010

Poetry in my Opinion

2010-03-02T16:29:00.001+04:00

Being in love with poetry makes you challenge others,
With, you know, words never heard before,
Or even if they were, like diamonds and gold,
They would be used in such a way to never be understood,
And the funny thing is we wait and expect compliments,
From those pompous illiterates who cannot read nor write,
This story began when I once wrote a marvellous piece of writing,
Along comes a young adult shutting me completely up,
Then he says, "What a rubbish piece of writing!"
(Excuse me! I spent seven weeks on that!)
"By the way," and, oh my, I knew exactly what he was about to say,
Changing the subject was easy,
As you would always look for his, the wacky arrogant, favourites,
And in this case jewellery, like diamonds and gold,
Though, dissimilar to my diamonds and gold,
I must say, I should have sticked to simple language,
But, the thing is, what makes a poet a poet?
Erudition, if you ask me.

Tuesday, 2nd of March 2010

Workers

2010-03-01T05:47:00.000+04:00

When I was a child I lived on
a very large farm next to the
slums of a global city. My father
took care of the cattle, and if
something happened to an animal
it was cut off from our food. The
reason of this did not matter, and
my father was always to blame.

I migrated to your well-known
city, this city, at the age of fifteen
seeking a fair life. I did not want
my beautiful children to be blamed
for everything. Unfortunately, I
can see things here are but the
same, everything is always our
fault. That is just how the world
is, and no one will blame you for
not changing. Though, sometimes
I ask myself: "when will things
amend? When will we dare to do
things differently? When will we
learn from our previous cruel
mistakes?" That is only my
opinion. I am nothing, no one.

Tuesday, 23rd of February 2010

Life of a Child

2010-03-01T05:44:00.003+04:00

I only see the world from my little brown eyes,
I do not know what the future holds or when will I be set free,
Orphaned young never good at hi's and goodbye's,
Aunt gazes at the horizon in front of the blue sea,
Breathing deeply under the moon with silent cries,
She speaks of a mournful war where we had to flee,
Scary things were thrown by planes flying in the skies,
She speaks of its ending when the war yearned to beget me,
Am I a very lucky child? Am I a devil in disguise?
Have I stopped the war? Have I caused the debris?
Why kill my family? Why act on a mere surmise?
Should I change my colour or beg on my knee?
She looks at me smiling; all the pain she denies,
She opens a new page treating me as a marquis,
Going to the park sliding down sitting on her thighs,
Then playing hide-and-seek and I count to thirty three,
Embracing my mother's ghost through painful cries,
Enjoying my father's ghost's company in front of the TV,
I only see the world from my little brown eyes,
I do not know what the future holds or when will I be set free.

Tuesday, 23rd of February 2010

Archives to Reopen

2010-02-15T06:38:00.002+04:00

Please read the previous poem entitled 'Filed in Archives' before this one.

Gasping deprived souls,
On the floor,
Staring so aimlessly,
Against their wills,
In this hell,
Captivated, tortured, butchered,
Few last long,
All inevitably expire,
Except this one,
Since carelessness arose,
Ignored for seconds,
Screaming for power,
Gigantic emotions rush,
Joints rapidly restructure,
Releasing the chains,
Ostentatious deep inhalations,
Reviving once more,
Archives to reopen,
Recollections of old-times,
Needing unwanted souls,
Pure, gullible, frail,
Failure never returned,
Hands supporting body,
Standing on legs,
Souls comforting others,
Reflections of torture,
Dark clouds form,
Raining to cleanse,
Evolving white habits,
Reacting with walls,
Of this abyss,
Dissolving to bits,
Removal of confusion,
Steps to walk,
Stairs to climb,
Energising the soul,
Surviving once more,
In this life,
A chemical world.

Monday, 15th of February 2010

Filed in Archives

2010-02-15T06:37:00.001+04:00

A deprived soul,
Found another one,
Just as empty,
In the abyss,
With locked chains,
Ferocious cries silenced,
By hellish whips,
Files to forget,
Archiving unwanted souls,
Pure, gullible, frail,
Breaking their wings,
Neck restrains applied,
Handcuffed by force,
Crawling in fear,
Hammering cracked bones,
Skulls wide open,
Fighting against them,
Abducting itself away,
Failure creeps again,
Cursed black habits,
Reappear amidst conflicts,
Wounds so insecure,
Awaiting their decay,
Nails holding souls,
Eyes to stab,
Never to see,
Tongues to iron,
Never to speak,
Throats to slaughter,
Never to breathe,
Drinking their blood,
None to rescue,
Continuous physical abuse,
Joints distinctly misshapen,
Risk of recovery,
Very very low.

Monday, 15th of February 2010

A Hurtful Departure (collaborative work) (edited)

2010-02-09T18:48:00.005+04:00

Words from Um 3eesa's blog
Choice and compilation by Bu Thyab

If these were written by hand,
The ink would have smudged,
Beyond recognition,
Mixing with my ...
Tears.

My insides are eroding,
My heart has turned black,
After burning for so long,
My heart bled ...
Ashes.

It is worse than having someone,
Make an incision in your chest,
With a hot, blunt metal object,
Dipped in acid, then rip your heart ...
Out.

My throat,
Has gone,
Very sore,
And my eyes ...
Burn.

Friend-less when you came into my life,
Heedless and confused,
Friend-less I am once again,
But, I waste no efforts trying to fit in ...
Anymore.

Wednesday, 10th February 2010

The Sightly Blind (edited)

2010-02-01T20:09:00.004+04:00

I have always felt your gentle presence at my street,
Emerging from its corners as a dainty little child,
Singing merrily as if a nightingale found its freedom,
Dancing randomly like a butterfly under my moonlight,
Blind as I am, though I cannot keep my eyes off you,
Wearing a yellow coat over my blue well-ironed shirt,
Fitting well with my nineteen-year-old black jeans,
Tried to polish my pair of old worn out black boots,
Groomed my hair, cut my nails, and tidied my beard,
Grabbing my stick and shoving my hat onto the floor,
My meeting starts as I say: "hello there! Care to help?"
Soon afterwards she walks me to my other streets,
As she departs smiling I return it my way and enquire,
"Will you be there when the first falling snow appears?"

Monday, 08th of February 2010

Born to Roar

2010-01-18T16:10:00.005+04:00

'Born to Roar' is my newest poem, the longest, and my masterpiece. It took me about a month and a half to finish, and I am going to publish it online sharing it with the public, and without further ado, I present you with 'Born to Roar':

A glimpse into my ancient genes illustrate a remarkable era,
Lords after lords placing footprints with everlasting camels,
Travelling as tribal silhouettes creating a basic mapped arc,
Arriving as one of three hands upon the shore's only castle,
Strangling salted tears whilst scales suffer collateral damage,
Deterioration never occurred; rather Time had a blissful face,
Aye, bee, cee with successful hits and the hunted triumph,
Ceasing when the half DNAs caused the flamed symbol,
Praising the gloomy face of Time awaiting drastic mutations,
In a period where chains of downhill-streets is a one-way,
Except, the pearl grew ever wise, strong, beautiful, and pure,
Knocking down the belittled pulps of the fake bars of gold,
Then to beget diamonds from collisions of mystical energies.

A freshly ripened fruit sent by the emerald back to earth,
Its cushions were flat showing no mercy to natural wells,
Soon afterwards clang to the tree trying to regrow its stalk,
Alone and befouled if not taken by the delicacy of the pearl,
As water and Time accumulate this fruit welcomed many,
Except to its selfish eff as it becomes an echoic background,
Never lonely, stood by its side the other two 2-carat diamonds,
Initiating the operation brothers-in-arms king of the hill,
As if three musketeers aiming for the canopy of this tree,
Thus, Time on the sundial displays an alphanumeric mark,
Indicating the necessity in generating exponential growths,
Still in the process facing challenges and solving issues,
Trying to befriend with whom have books, platforms, notes,
Pretty regrettable in this era to behave the way I do not.

Twenty four, a flourishing and shining ambitious age,
Yet, the purest living person on Earth decides otherwise,
Cleaving and girdling the wildest forms of gemstones,
Then polishing them preparing for infamous galleries,
Asking Allah for the Hereafter's reward and why not?
Shoulder to shoulder with our beloved prophet's, amen!
Marrying Khaled Ibn Al-Waleed, with Allah's Will,
The pearl, a glowing star omitting optimistic aurora,
A smart engine driven by the sweetest honey and milk,
Blessed with the most delicate flesh yet unbreakable,
Lub-dupp lub-dupp beating for this nation's future,
If only Angels were to be seen, to be heard, to be felt,
Then this pearl would be mistaken for such a creation,
In the meantime, I kiss her hands and forehead thankfully,
My pearl, my pure, my angel, my friend, my future, my love.

Covalent bonds between three isotopic carbons,
Forming non-metallic transparent relationships,
As for stability, radioactivity of 14C has taken place,
Living half-a-life of over fifty-odd centuries,
Growing perfumes then grazing for dust industry,
Outsourcing to gain priceless benefits and profits,
Re-read to know if my tongue is placed onto sarcasm,
And then what? That is it; seriously, that is it,
Hence, pin-pointing them out whilst still admiring,
So, I ask you for opportunities such as these, any?
Rare, if none, and reason made this bond ever closer,
Similarly, another carbon I owe many adventures to,
Open-complex-minded, yet simple weird hearted,
Licks new individuals with sharp poisonous thorns,
Senseless person? Rather, too genius for me to write,
So, I accept you as my first double covalent bond,
And I agree to invite any flesh of fruits to bond with.

Cerulean gems endeavour along this invaluable crust,
Smiling whites then holding hands then hugging,
Their stalk illustrate different conformation,
Though, trusting the branch to grasp the same tree,
Eradicating aging differences, to support to protect,
Seven, six, five, four, three, two, one, all in all,
To them I return from outsider's ruthless cave,
Rehabilitation is what I seek regrowing my vivid hair,
Kissing these gems planting them next to my flesh,
Keys to the agonised entities dispersing colourful flora.

The pulps of fake bars of gold act as rotten candies,
Fighting rebellious along the smirking half DNAs,
Vandalising every centimetre of this branched twig,
A once beautifully-carved well-maintained stem,
Yet, as selfish miners, exported fake bars of gold,
Some of them eat some of them as wild dogs do,
The pulps know but the snakes keep their distances,
Detesting such branches as we regrow ours back,
Lecturing us to stand by their side along half DNAs,
Welding the boring rusty iron-made cyclic chains,
We arise opposite to their frontier facing a clear-cut path,
To them I turn away and to them I keep my distance,
To them I give advice and to them I warn my rage.

I roar from the old white pillar; weeks, months, and years,
Resting on its shelter alongside another but to lease,
Having to state the facts and truths yet 300 kay stolen,
Never mind that but eyes upon eyes keen on its loss,
Yet, a new pillar obtained whilst the loss never reached,
I painted the first, wanting the second, but the third is alright,
Striving to gain the already-set goals; still to pit-stop,
Here and there; I, for once, spin around to foresee,
"I, forever, roar upon dusts that scar my beloved fruits,"
That is what I have foreseen, and here I blood my wrist,
For reason that the pillars are weeping on the monsoons.

Embedding the ech exx kay on this magical fountain pen,
The absence of the ess was noticed and I walk the steps,
There I saw a bunch of little marbles gathering around me,
Their chief progressed asking me about the gender benders,
Rather peculiar, speaking what he wants listening,
Joining his forces with unspeakable elicited guidelines,
Though, forced acceptance, and bait to those benders,
Negotiating policies between soft suffocating parties,
"I here declare that I succeeded and leaving grade three",
Then, surfing away on the threaded keys to obtain a hair,
Doing original funked-up rituals by the wells and the limbs,
A lady with an umbrella casting her wells onto decorative hats,
Lurky, yet the blueness of the mood cast enigmatic shadows,
Reincarnating Weimar after the brutal bloodsheds of the lords,
Half-truths of Aye Ech, Double You Cee, Jay Ess, rightly discounted,
And if failure was preordained; worry not for "history is in the past",
Cumulonimbus mammatus to suckle and precipitation of sweat glands,
Emphasise yourself by "I am science", thus, orange to digest,
And classes to stand, smile stand smirk stand, "headmaster!"
While enjoying pink sheets, 5 x 2 and 1st, then I vote green,
Danny the champion, Curley the swindler, Lenny the &#*$%,
Perceiving French Adiposity as Mrs. Frisby to Dragon,
I, for once, continued banana doodling to Krill's castle,
All in all for the love of my rollercoaster's electric shock,
Curled up in midair exhibiting psychic powers to preach,
Observatory's victorious reports plotting events down under,
Settling in, although such differences shall never be overlooked.

Behold, the desires of mankind opened its G-locked doors,
Mounting mysterious and ever so perplexing granite tiles,
Strolling along naively imitating those of the unfortunate,
Banging on the drums encircled by sneaky snaky figurines,
Then kneeling to the inner beauty of an already-taught entity,
Reciting to the drums rebooting its qualitative journeys,
To the rollercoaster reprogramming its engineered systems,
To the wells digging their dried bases; taken by surprise,
To the beaches constricting the invasion of risky waves,
And to the only fruit recollecting wasted energy drinks,
All together, this universe's cosmos bow to the Unseen,
Vow to bow and bow to vow for I, believing in Him, prostrate,
And the pearl's manual straightens this entity tying its knot,
Qualifying few examinations tested by emm cee que's.

The straight line is this fruit's offensive and defensive tactic,
Not even free first class e-tickets can alter this line's shape,
Though twelve is an appealing digit both left and right,
Anti-curvature devices installed onto this entity's fruit,
Preaching to believe and work for the Gracious One,
I, therefore, ROAR and ROAR and ROAR and ROAR,
"Is there not among you a single right-minded man?"
Qura'an, Muhammad, solid proofs upon solid proofs,
But talking to the deaf, displaying to the blind,
Explaining to the dumb; "Allah, guide us to this line",
Thus, hugging the seabed's mirror of the Arabian Gulf,
Walking on Mulu then prostrating in its largest cave,
Strolling along Kuching's National Park kissing its paper,
I, with Allah's Might, will forever march along this line,
Roaring onto those who demonstrate twelve to be appealed.

The scribbling coils itself unless it tastes marbles,
Manufactured by copious colourful companies,
Mingling with the majority, but few were persistent,
Crying after misplacing a bloody orange marble,
Teaching the other six words before going to bed,
A marble protested then the six words came into play,
Trying to recover them for around two decades,
Not just one, but a handful; rare spheres indeed,
The 4/3πr3 amplified as transformations commenced,
Subsequently meeting a large light blue opal,
A slightly configured pattern from an old dimension,
Holding it within my palm all through the storms,
Another opal lived, though pale yellow, very trivial,
And for untold reasons, large volcanic red opal shows up,
Patrolling the bananas of the marble-filled palm,
I wait on the day where I grasp that sizzling opal,
Farewell, for now, and I will to you, still seek.

I applaud as I flip my rollercoaster's piled boxes of files,
Finding a rhomboid-margined shiny surface of printed events,
My idol with an elite slogan: "well manners come first",
Arriving at the seasonal auction for this eff to buy,
Insecurity enveloped my flesh but giving it another go,
Belremaithah hit upon this tiny fruit to further nourish,
Then bouncing marbles pouring across soapy squares,
Punishing circular clothes for points to score,
Acupuncturing rectangles by pulses of short and high limbs,
White to yellow, then jumping onto blue halting on a red,
Blooding fruits behind bars holding something triumphal,
Hunting swords equipping their fashions for the coronation,
Watering the sails for another without a fisherman's approval,
Gaseous liquids gather around the cove writing a death note,
At the end of the day modestly reciting flawless Words.

Telescoping Sydney's visual dots riding my rollercoaster,
Burning them into a rewritable digital versatile disk,
Sorting them out into seven or so sovereign sectors,
Five of which I incessantly enjoy their companionship,
First comes first, bewildered by a fruit from aye dee,
No reason, under the sobbing sky, I call upon this fruit,
The knight in shining armour adopts me into salvation,
From whom I bump into many Emirati-flagged marbles,
To you from my entity to my fruit via my flesh I salute,
Now, opening speeches sending invitations all across,
After quite some time reading for a ceremonial chief,
Assiduous fruits from the facility approve the message,
Holding upper limbs to fracture stiff locked entrances,
Jumping off their facility denouncing mistreatment,
Enduring it all commemorating their rejoice and reunion,
A very old marble standing on shelves of the society,
Gazing at their blueprints and footsteps to account,
Hanging some whilst to others forming red carpets,
Kept a note marking the 'three-times as old as myself',
An absolute gentleman, and a mathematician I might add,
Though the likes of aye to zed appeared on Sydney's shores,
Inflicting constant conspiracies between yellow yolks,
Moralities diminished joining without a second thought,
Calling the logics of the rollercoaster against the extremes,
Despite the fact that eye ess owe cee smile at mirages,
A political and an artist advisor I shall be converted into,
The owe pee queue arr and ess penetrated my circle,
Singing with these marbles during dusk and daylight,
Doubting doubting doubting to never even question,
Perhaps that sort is typically called an innovative bond,
Stepping aside as Time conquers this era's dimensions,
Misguiding those of the unfortunate, the likes of jay et al,
Concluding on whose marbles glow from Arabic script,
Shining white onto the refreshed minty green background,
Awakening separate dots of the entity repairing its devices,
Aiding those in need and a sacred pillar to resurrect,
With much appreciation I honour them a calligraphy.

The rubbish remnants were compliantly passed over,
This applies to any entity rejecting charity foundations,
Or enslave themselves for false banners to piercingly hail,
Or cheaply sell every inch of their fruits to thirsty wells,
Or eliminate their self existence accepting a new lineage,
Or stamp trademarks on naïve fruits for selfish deals,
Or squeak lowly to bank just as to befall supercilious,
Or unjustly desking fruits from their black phonebooks,
Or raising sails over the wells while nothing to possess,
Or utilise the snake to fib and fib for any pathetic reason,
Or hold onto the book when wants and let go if wants,
Or limbs rejecting the wavelengths exiting the cove,
Or unleash warm alphabetic letters with deep sorrow,
Or seek scavenging vultures to laugh over mausoleums,
Or gently demean the precious stones I shelve elegantly,
I heart my fruit and entity and I heart who hearts me.

The flamed symbol granted its followers a ruinous wish,
Banished into the caverns of this humongous one tree,
Entrapment of our past stung its needle onto our necks,
Eye-dropping and drooling as alien stems advance ahead,
This tree then leant on its left listening to unworthy mumbles,
Living wills to write or seeking advice for advanced directives,
Sleeping in graves walking on a boulevard of broken dreams,
Though its DNA sustained it, watering the unstable roots,
Six others exist to preserve the steadiness of this forest,
And my eff is the founder of such a lovely nutritious soil,
Wishing world's scientists clone him thousand times,
Hoping for the restoration of our life, security, right,
Freedom, environment, family, culture and pride,
Hoping for the abolition of our corruption, discrimination,
Classed system, dependency, and lack of knowledge,
To the deepest valleys of hell with the foxes' formalities,
Obliterating bonds then respect to forcefully confiscate,
Open ............................................. minded,
Infecting the detrimental youth allowing Nido to wear,
Later, flour to fry faces into the fearless framed flocks,
Befalling upon brainless passersby as drunken phantasms,
To top it with spices, gents then grow garaged gardens,
Harvesting the seasonal lice for false banners to praise,
Nonetheless, finding fresh bright fruits bow in pillars,
Calling others to success and to practice sacredness,
Therefore, this vast forest shows a fantastic future,
Behold, advice your limbs, then your snake, and then your flesh.

A different species of tree coexisted in this poor fruit's life,
Peeling away its rich-in-nutrients outermost fleshy layer,
Carving yet another masterpiece though without a shadow,
Going back and forth allowing baptism and purification,
Holding back the bulk of agony suffocating all alone,
Slowly dusting off rusty weathered fruit's cranium,
Their lectured 'freedom' displaying it all without dignity,
Following the principles of our books yet no flesh to agree,
Corruption is handcuffed whilst honesty is bailed out,
Wireless network connection established for its persons,
Narrowing the gap with censorship devices to dismantle,
A few forgotten customary concerning crippled elderly,
Wearing through as plastic bags to firmly luggage,
Suburban grandsons arrive at the joyful anniversary,
Then deliberately forgetting the genes and its stalk,
Seeking twelve o'clock parties to binge and sniff,
Ordering menus from Maccas, the two o'clock culture,
Deserting the once child-suckling mother of sons,
No outer space to entertain except in gambling to wane,
Barely growling at the darker-than-black side of Time,
Muttering hysterically as Time imitate Grim's scythe,
Then a doctor administering morphine for palliative care,
Imperfect trees exist since the book is believed treacherous.

I roar whilst few squeal, meow, or disgustingly howl,
Indeed what lies under this life's crust is death of fruits,
Whilst entities utilise tickets of life buying valuable tools,
If appraised by the long sails of fruits then how to cuddle,
Better for the entity to reside within this six-walled area,
Worshiping Allah than becoming a stinking garbage,
Sins hunt us as Time lags since tee comes after ess,
Then comes U, me, and them with sins twisting our arms,
Ups and downs; where downs are sharp barb-wired fences,
Where ups are voices of wisdom impersonating Malcolm X,
Zealously following this straight line inviting the rest of you,
I roar when asleep as Dust particles create me into anew human race,
Roar to born the books for entities to read, understand, and work.

Monday, 18th of January 2010

The Aged Man

2009-12-28T15:12:00.001+04:00

As I humbly sealed this ice-cold glassy window,
I went back to my motionless armchair below,
Drinking the milk reading the paper's first page,
The radio was on whilst a bird sang in its cage.

Warmth began its expedition from the fireplace,
Glimpsed at that empty chair no being to replace,
The cat woke up as the logs crackled and popped,
She walked in front of me then abruptly stopped.

I held my rigid arms to hold her big fat tummy,
Decided to join me as I got her favourite dummy,
Paused for a second since here I embraced my wife,
Went along into a lovely world living a new life.

Wednesday, 07th of October 2009

False Banners

2009-12-01T10:16:00.001+04:00

Persons intoxicated by delusional letters,
Inscribed into the smoke of burnt ashes,
Hallucinations of the so-wanted future,
Drawing vastly near exposing its flaws.

The house's base crumbles unconsciously,
Whilst mighty entities shift another gear,
Soaring over already-built firm mountains,
Guiding the delirious to colourful mirages.

Kind hearts buried under torrid volcanoes,
Drowning as they use worthwhile symbols,
Illuminating into the smoke of burnt ashes,
Creating antidotes curing drunken masters.

Tuesday, 01st of December 2009

Three Birds With One Stone

2009-11-26T09:42:00.001+04:00

A kid

Crying since that monster took my toy,
I want it back to continue the sad play,
Soldiers dying losing their plastic legs,
But I cannot continue without my toy,
Blurry vision from tears, falling down.

Crying ever more calling sadly for 'help',
No one to reply then I walk to a corner,
Mr. Lonely is ever alone easily bullied,
None to care or grasp my hand and hug,
I silently shed tears in my little corner.

An adult

It has been over thirty odd years now,
And I have accomplished this and that,
With your side by mine my dear love,
Although I ceased expressing it to you,
For I became overwhelmed by sadness.

I became what you would call 'rusted',
Hence, I am ineligible to be with you,
I am in no need for worthless trophies,
Nor worn-out ink-stamped certificates,
For a sadistic figure did grasp my soul.

An elderly

Under a century and still breathing air,
Rather fascinating to see myself gripe,
Although when listening to those two,
I might perhaps seem a decade younger,
Yet, I am still the product of this world.

No soul to bear my near-expired corpse,
As I shuffle into my bed in the coldness,
Sadness is a routine part of my nights,
That should be entirely fine, little boys,
For now I am a wrinkled little old man.

Thursday, 26th of November 2009

"Suicide Me"

2009-11-21T10:03:00.001+04:00

I was walking along the ocean,
Observing the happy people around,
As they pass I deceive them with my smile,
Since they are unaware of my past, present or future.

I took a glance at the shark-filled sea,
A person just threw herself off the edge of a cliff,
Not knowing what would become of her I followed her steps,
My existing soul is about to be set free from a world full of unkindness.

The sharks can have me,
They can reveal the true self of mine,
My blood will be dispersed creating my biography,
Displayed in infamous exhibitions of selfish living artists.

The soulless cops arrived to seal the suicidal edge,
She left this life as I stand alone on this cliff,
At last finding an extremely sharp blade,
My neck is huge; very hard to slice,
My wrist is smaller; easier to slit,
Now I can understand myself,
The blood pouring out talks,
I cannot feel my fingers,
I cannot hear a noise,
I cannot … see.
*sigh*

Saturday, 21st of November 2009

The Eyes Cry

2009-11-17T17:58:00.000+04:00

Entering your darker than black cave,
Spotting six infinitely hollow barriers,
Enclosing to change into a sacred grave,
Slicing it exposing emotional carriers.

Arriving at your two fluid-filled wells,
Digging their roots sharing it with you,
Revealing awful stories each one tells,
Emptying them, but more from the two.

Pearly glitters sensitively warm drops,
Cooling the hot golden-sand beaches,
Reaching the deep valley and stops,
Wishing loss of memory as it preaches.

This cave is briefly gone but to return,
Haunting you once more for a year,
Pay no heed to it and from it learn,
Recall, the others to you are sincere.

Wednesday, 18th of November 2009

Corrupted Humanity

2009-11-03T14:04:00.001+04:00

I was once a very young innocent caterpillar,
But quickly forced to evolve into a butterfly,
Kidnapped by an anonymous shifty shadow,
Smiling with open arms as if my awaited uncle,
"They are so busy"; family just leaving me?

I met a new very young soundless yellow bird,
Soon to become a soulless puzzled wanderer,
Left from home due to an old drunken mother,
Taken by the same arms, yet not his uncle,
"He is helping you"; father is rescuing me?

I met a cat and a dog, identical twins I presume,
Shortly went for adoption sold for few silver coins,
Divorced single mother was too late for abortion,
So-called uncle grasping this golden opportunity,
"She doesn't care"; mother just forgetting us?

We were once very young innocent children,
Before long exposed to the corrupted humanity,
It was not our mistake; it was not our decision,
Mother, father, uncle, family, none to bear us,
Using this final line to ask the reason for this.

Wednesday, 16th of September 2009

The Moon and its Light

2009-10-22T06:25:00.000+04:00

A lonely eye stalking the blue-surfaced water,
Anonymous, yet, most of its traits are known,
The origin displays its glorious power onto it,
Arising in darkest hours exposing this emblem.

Utter silence heard upon its luminous white lid,
Disclosing the secretly survived moving entities,
Doubtful queries raised for such random claims,
Ghastly substances soar without troubling the eye.

Tolerant drifters misplaced in vast wavy prisms,
Gazing at the lid as it performs its sacred rituals,
Tranquillity emerged blessing tribal silhouettes,
Placing directions in the souls of mindful hearts.

Thursday, 22nd of October 2009

Gathering Data

2009-10-15T07:29:00.001+04:00

He woke up from this drown,
Opened the grey wall to eat,
Wrote with watch and flesh,
But, the fire withdraws again,
And to me he decided to jump,
Once again drowned in the bed,
… I guess!

He woke up from this hazard,
With shoes off and sand to hear,
Rain to thunder as him to knot,
Ran on the fish drinking grass,
Smelt roads as he read the light,
No more, to his brain, he gave up,
… I guess!

Thursday, 15th of October 2009

Letters for a Poem

2009-09-22T05:06:00.000+04:00

In my woodiness shape I wish to express,
Words from an eccentric language or two,
Merged together in a highly new fashion,
Entirely displayed, wondered by admirers,
Whilst critics shove me into 'lost property'.

Waiting for some time for you to return,
Remembering our previous rapid sessions,
The tickling of deep smooth coloured tips,
The poking of shallow rough black squares,
Now arriving before me with another relic.

Bias and morality should never be judged,
Rather, I am just an innocent piece of art,
Creative symbols reflecting endless value,
Producing a magnificent meaningful me,
Presented to audiences by a foreign entity.

Monday, 21st of September 2009

El Pasado Anónimo

2009-09-08T13:38:00.001+04:00

Cuando paro delante de esta puerta enorme,
El pasado mantiene la caza de mí, pero no ahora,
No si entro en este lugar donde puedo cantar,
Cantar a mi pasado en el tono que lo prohíbe.

Cuando ando por este jardín infinito,
Oliendo las hojas del otoño que se caen,
Oyendo el viento bailando entre les,
Observé otro alma entrando mi dimensión.

Cuando corro hacia la niebla de la noche interminable,
Siguiente mi deseo de abrazar a su figura delgada,
Una ilusión reforzó por un abismo oscuro vacío,
Perdiendo mi futuro y la caza empieza otra vez.

Miércoles, 02 de septiembre de 2009

The Welcoming Person

2009-09-06T16:48:00.001+04:00

It was then that I accepted its presence,
Seizing my right hand pulling it forward,
It felt cold at first with sparks of scariness,
Except, warmth began its novel exploration.

It kept emotionless, silent, hardly any motion,
Whilst walking towards a known destination,
I felt the urge in knowing the person I follow,
The urge to start a new friendship, a new era.

There I spoke to the form in front of me,
With a continuous, slow but steady pace,
The silence broke into several black ravens,
All landing gently on the shoulders of it.

It was then that I rejected its opposite,
Finishing the last lines of a history book,
Pleased as I flick its pages then I close,
Entering the place, breathe my last breath.

The Anonymous Past

2009-09-02T16:29:00.000+04:00

As I stop in front of this enormous gate,
The past keeps hunting me, but not now,
Not if I enter this place where I can sing,
Sing to my past in the tone that it forbids.

As I walk through this infinite garden,
Smelling the falling autumn leaves,
Hearing the wind dancing between them,
I observed another soul entering my dimension.

As I run towards the endless night's mist,
Following my desire to hug her thin figure,
An illusion reinforced by a dark empty abyss,
Losing my future and the hunting starts again.

The Nine Year Old

2009-08-26T15:36:00.002+04:00

Compassion for her as she struggles for life,
Trees stand aside awaiting her soul's whimper,
I, on the other hand, standby next to her bed,
Watching her lungs inflate each few slow seconds,
And feeling her rebellious heartbeat calling out,
Hoping after each blink I'd see her eyes open.

Chattering into her warm and sweet little right ear,
Yeah, sh-she must; she must be hearing my voice,
I bet she senses 'love' elements revolving around her,
As I spray that fresh cherry-scent perfume on her,
And guarding her through the past year's sleepless nights,
Hoping after each tear I'd hear her say: "mommy; daddy".

Stabilising the Soul

2009-08-20T17:14:00.001+04:00

Is it an enormous tree or a humble man I see?
Purity draining into the dusty autumn leaves,
Or an exhausted elderly limping on his third leg?

It is source and extended cables both required for a life,
The two are none but a blurry vision I have foreseen,
Incessant distorted images infiltrating a lot of memories.

I accepted the existence of the truth and its spatial loci,
Others still consider me too naïve to seek such an element,
Thus, the dust, from this path to my face, kept its promise.

The Art of the Brain

2009-07-22T00:33:00.001+04:00

I've seen England's flag when I was a young kid,
But the human brain is just significantly fabulous,
Opening the house's windows drilling through its vault,
Not gold or money that is stored; rather complex roads,
Highways, intersections, bridges, and extensive tunnels,
Its specialty is fancy express electric rollercoasters,
For their absence you and I are nothing but useless art.

10th of June 2009

This Ruby Flesh

2009-06-27T10:21:00.002+04:00

This piece of dancing ruby flesh in my vast chest,
Is restrained in an empty 'rest in blackness' cage,
No light can penetrate those enormous white guards,
No dark can escape this inevitable gloomy prison,
Once cherished; now this treasure is to be concealed.

Emotions rush into its deepest caves… dreams shatter.

There, negativity heaves me into fragile crumbles,
There, optimism ignores my pathetic pity presence,
Persisting due to that arrogant chief executive officer,
White and crimson, the means of hierarchy and command,
This electric rollercoaster, from the flesh; isolation in process.

Emotions rush into its furthest bounds… dreams develop.

Lightness blossoms within the limits of endless dreams,
Growing exponentially dispersing every bit of shade,
And within it do children of life battle this ageing war,
Reviving nothing but a dancing piece of ruby flesh,
Idolised in a throne, in my vast 'rest in brightness' cage.

-------
Written on the 23rd of June 2009
Modified until the 27th of June 2009

Guidance

2009-05-15T03:12:00.003+04:00

As the candle within me dims bit by bit,
Darkening my surroundings walking on uncertain paths,
Losing any sorts of assistance,
Leading me off track.

My heart searches for its horizon,
A horizon that is fading away,
This candle is but a way to enrich its heart,
A heart filled with doubts and quarrels.

The sky's curtains begin to unravel,
Moonlight invading every bit of shade,
Shining my face and this pathway I walk on,
Time to relight it; guided once again.

8th of February 2009

The Life of a Tulip

2009-05-07T12:02:00.001+04:00

For my delicate petals to rise above this enormous pot,
Reddish as they are, dryness will almost set them free,
And for my body and neck to prolong the inevitable rot,
Greenish as I am, this hell, a darkroom, is not a guarantee.

Without a He

2009-05-06T16:58:00.000+04:00

Born to this branch of an enormous tree,
Thin as it was; firm and stable as it would be,
Lookin' at me both sides,
Wonderin' at he who resides,
So long as he does not interfere,
So long as she and I adhere.

Blue as I was, pretty unpopular, although I was rare,
Famous as he was, crimson for a colour, so unfair,
Shoutin' across me stem,
Searchin' for the letter M,
So long as he does not come near,
So long as she becomes sincere.

She was very young; clever and lovely little girl,
He needs to be dead; for white is rarer than a pearl,
Starin' at me-self,
Cuttin' parts of he-self,
So long as I to him never appear,
So long as I to her become very dear.

In her life I will be without a he.

True Tears of Life

2009-04-01T03:09:00.000+04:00

Born into it as the kid tears to death,
Getting rapidly older second by second,
Avoiding the eyes, the touch of the most,
At times I hug her to touch, I reckoned.

Born into it as a separated only child,
Competing for fast dives, a warm alight,
Unfortunate events, matters attract me,
Randomly placing a target for this fight.

Born into it as the death awaits a day,
Joining siblings with a touch and a hug,
The Sun rose from grounds of life,
Death upon me, thank you very much.

A Lethal Fog

2009-03-21T17:37:00.001+04:00

So future, what have you been up to?
Who will I meet and what will I do?
What sort of precious life will I reside?
Will I be taken away from it due to pride?
Or survive my last years in a small hide?
Or enjoy surreal sceneries found worldwide?
How many times should I repeat them?
However, rarely do you not condemn!

But at least answer these vital questions:
Would I leave good or bad impressions?
Would I be able to save peoples' lives?
Inviting them to dinner, until it arrives.

I guess you were never created to answer,
Even to those who have a deadly cancer,
Enduring its burden for nine long years,
Or nine days filled with endless tears.

It sure does take a person by surprise,
It is death, a lethal fog living in disguise.

To The Letter S

2009-03-15T11:59:00.000+04:00

As I shuffled onto my bed I felt her presence,
I closed my eyes calmly as if to pretence,
Cat-walking elegantly with her long naked feet,
Our bewildered eyes were meant to meet,
The intensified mood smoothed as she cried,
I moved aside allowing her to lie by my side,
Shifting closer to my face gazing in wonder,
Feeling her heart reviving after being torn asunder,
Stroking my cheeks whispering in my right ear,
"Missing your caressing since your disappear,
"Be easy on yourself as you seem really worn out,
"This is me returning the favour, so do not shout".
Strolling along with her tail, meowing; very showy,
Pure white fur as if from snow; she's my Snowy.

Consequences

2009-03-13T12:42:00.001+04:00

This body I am carrying is tired,
A disease has affected my mind,
It is this that changed my approach,
What would I utter but sick words?!
Producing such awful consequences.

This body I am carrying is tired.

I wished from before as I do now,
My expressions would not be altered,
Yet, if you have heard me the other day,
Is that a person talking or a crazy fellow?
Patience has its effects, patience that I lacked.

A disease has affected my mind.

Before such an incident happened,
Missing each other after a long year,
An utmost joy, soon to be concealed,
Behind the bars of loss and mistakes,
No feelings, if such a phrase exists.

It is this that changed my approach.

A conversation I had with a friend,
Wanting to do the same with another,
Shouldn't this be easier than before?
Or does my mouth have a different taste?
Misused taste producing dreadful smell!

What would I utter but sick words?!

Speaking of morals, principles and ideals,
Soon to be refuted by self-contradictions,
Or were they used for the sake of argument,
Or the mind has come back to its senses,
It was about a person, and a person I very dear.

Producing such awful consequences.

For My People

2009-02-20T03:49:00.000+04:00

Replying as if one day is forever,
To me this is rather entertaining.
Speaking of which, do continue.
The speech I have interrupted,
Will be less likely to take place,
I'm afraid that is the sole truth,
Doing is better than thinking,
Agree with me just this time.
For the moment I do understand,
You of all the people? Hahaha!

Replying as if one day is forever,
To me this is rather entertaining.
I prefer to die here in this forum,
Than live on feeling this vain,
A constructive argument, you say?
Impressive, now of all the times?
Since when would you talk sense?
Is this for you or the beloved people?
Let's construct a public discussion,
Or have you lost guts on your way?

A Fancy Painting

2009-01-22T05:31:00.000+04:00

I have lived for all of my life without a sister,
I could have survived and went on forever,
Without any trouble, nor a single disaster,
A fate is a fate; I couldn't change a single matter,
She doesn't like poems; neither is she a speller,
But smart and cute, enthusiastic and younger,
New feelings were pouring into me, cuz of her,
Feelings of having a new person, a new sister,
I kept my distance from her at about a meter,
Maybe cuz it's my first time to sense a sister,
Not screaming and fighting against each other,
Neither pretending to be invisible, but rather,
Being next to me sharing a smile together,

We will sit on a hill at night in the winter,
Cold as it is, but we would share the heater,
Heater of my and her body embedded together,
Feeling comfort and secure will turn it into summer,
Under the shining stars we lighten forever.

24-Apr-2007

Picked You From the Garden

2009-01-22T05:29:00.002+04:00

Our story started when I had that famous meeting,
Do you remember? The time I had no seating,
The sun was fading bit by bit beyond the surreal horizon,
Revealing its last existence, its last peak via the mizen,
As if disclosing true beauty that should be spotted,
Deserved by few, ignored by most, constantly plotted,
You were exclusive, surrounded by the dullest colours,
To the extent that nothing can buy you, not even dollars.
Last
… Glance.

I was dragged by the mob towards the mid of stage,
Exposed to the hundreds reading the correct page,
But doubt not, your being never faded my conscious,
Regular glimpses whilst talking, hence nor my subconscious,
Invaded by your utmost benevolence and attractiveness,
Moonlight reinforced by the dew increased your tenderness,
After ending my speech I strolled out towards the garden,
Found you, touched you, held you, released you, "pardon…"
Never,
… Disappear.

Picked you from the garden at around half-past-nine,
Without any resistance or moaning you became mine,
Finally we are home, you and me, completely alone,
Instantly you started to harden, as if becoming a stone,
It wasn't even an hour and you're leaving me in sob,
Approached you, touched you, fractured you; am I a slob?
Were you a ticking bomb exploding when it was just fine?
Or a bullet fired making holes in me, my heart and spine?
Sticking you together for a near funeral, my dear flower,
Slowly, I buried you in my diary without a header or a footer.
Gone
… Evermore.

11-Feb-2008

The Minds of Two

2009-01-08T05:15:00.003+04:00

I'm stranded on an island,
That's far far away,
There's no drop of water,
Nor a cup of milk,
How can I survive,
This hardship I'm going through,
How can I revive,
The wilderness of my soul,
It's already over,
The moment I entered,
It's already too late,
Once I have deceased,
Wishing to die once more!!

I'm stranded on an island,
That's so close to me,
There's a grain of sand,
And a frequent storm,
How can I perish,
From a world full of freshness,
How can I destroy,
Such a beautiful place,
It's certainly not over,
As long as I breathe,
It's never too late,
To overcome my desires,
Wishing to be revived again!!

12th December 2008

Déjà Vu of Long Years

2009-01-04T23:55:00.002+04:00

Captured by two men in this train,
Following their orders without complain,
Manchester's where I'll take my leave,
It's the next stop and a letter I'll receive,
The train halts and the noises augment,
Exiting the vehicle with an extraordinary scent,
I've been here and here did I see her glowing face,
Here I saw her giggle and here I boosted my pace,
Pushing people aside and waiting at that spot,
There she kissed me and a kiss I never forgot,
Shaking her head waving her long hair left and right,
Strolling away whilst I try to keep her within my sight,
A beige and brown top and an autumnally green skirt,
Stunningly blended with her body; persons starting to flirt,
Fading away, turning her head, looking back; our eyes have met,
Last glances from far away glowing cheeks and I bet they're wet.

A Déjà vu or the woman I see before my eyes?
Wearing a scarf and a heavy coat as if to disguise,
No, not her, but behind her the lady with long hair,
Looking at me with similar smile and the exact wear,
Running towards her pushing the busy crowd away,
But the two men grasped me as if I was the prey,
Struggling; but fruitless efforts and the growing tears,
Have made me lose her for seventy-two long years.

A Friendly Superpower

2009-01-02T16:10:00.000+04:00

He sensed me. Happy I was. But,
He went away to another friend,
My brain cells started to shut,
Friendship came, at last, to an end.

Next day, he sensed my aggression,
Alert he was, but no question,
Neither suggestion,
Hence, I saw his depression.

He talked to me,
As if asking for forgiveness,
Trying to calm me,
For me he was pointless.

He begged even more,
For he was shocked and scared,
I squashed his head to the floor,
Even though he wasn’t prepared.

I am not mad,
Because I and scientists are alike,
I am not bad,
Because I’m similar to the Third Reich.

He ran along the pavement,
I imprisoned him in a tower,
For he was my enslavement,
Now I become a superpower.

2003

This is one of my first decent poems, and it describes a story about a disturbed character. This theme was introduced to me during my 9th or 10th grade in school as we were analysing and evaluating poems related to disturbed characters.

Terminal Life

2009-01-01T18:57:00.000+04:00

It is God's Will to take my soul on this day,
I am ready to leave this ward, so try not to delay,
Surviving for extra years worsens my distress,
I just want my family beside me for me to express,
My gratitude for their care and for me to bless,
Memory deceived me, then you were here to assess.

It is God's Will to take my soul on this day,
Leave me alone, it is over, so stop and go away,
My brain is well; my heart is ill going downhill,
Calling for the nurse and asking to remove this pill.

Again it happened and this time:
Widening my eyes; still in bed by a breath,
Enough doctor, stop prolonging my death.

6th of November 2008

A Woman and a Palestinian

2009-01-01T18:26:00.000+04:00

Looking at them through my little window,
Seeing nothing but a dead body and a widow,
I cannot cease trembling as my heart starts to decay,
My dear son is murdered and my husband is away
In my own home and still experiencing the terror,
Slaughtering innocent persons; not a mistake nor an error,
Five days passed and countries celebrate New Year,
Ignorant humans are not crying, not even a tear,
Haven't they heard of me, an innocent mother?
Or did they turn their back on me and not bother?
Everyone is requesting a ceasefire of this brutality,
But words are not actions reflecting nothing of the reality,
Occupied Palestine are destroying our pride,
Isn't there anyone to help us and stand on our side?
They plan to massacre us whilst the rest of them hide,
And who the hell are they for them to decide?!

This poem is dedicated to the innocent Palestinian families murdered by the Occupied Palestine.

Bu Thyab it is!!

2008-12-31T14:10:00.000+04:00

Welcome to my blog! This is not my first time publishing my writings, ideas, and thoughts in a place on the internet, however, this time it is going to be solely about English literature. In other words, poetry, short story, novel and just random thoughts.

It is time to introduce myself. I am an ordinary young man from Dubai, United Arab Emirates studying abroad. From time to time I write poems (both Arabic and English), short stories, some thoughts, and I am currently working on a novel. Bu Thyab literally means father of Thyab, which is wolf; this type of naming, which is popular between Arabs, indicates the name of a person's eldest son. However, as for myself I am not married, but if God blessed me with a son he would be called Thyab. Therefore, Bu Thyab it is.

Arabic poems are actually thoughts rather than poems, since to produce a poem in Arabic is extremely difficult due to the existence of numerous rules, unlike English poetry; and for this reason I wrote them in English more than in Arabic, however, I would really like to improve my Arabic understanding so that I can produce fine Arabic poems, which I am incapable of doing now. I began writing poems during grade 7, which were mostly meaningless, probably due to me wanting to rhyme; however, more recently specific events in my daily life inspired me to write these poems.

Grade 7 was my turning point changing school systems from American to British, and I believe that when I was forced to read fiction and non-fiction books I was allowed to increase my vocabulary and my interest in literature. My early short stories, which include "Blood Around the World", "Sea Diamond" and "King Krill" were sort of funny, despite the fact my intention was producing action, thriller stories. King Krill was a project in grade 7 English lesson, in which we produced maps, drawings and stories. However, I had to start all over again, since the English department had numerous files stolen, and guess what... unfortunately, my drawings and writings went missing too. Recently, I started a new series of short stories called "Adventures of Us and King Krill".

I started writing my novel after I graduated from high school. This would be a huge project that needs a huge amount of research and traveling consisting of three books, i.e. a trilogy, which is entitled: "Was Concealed, Now Disclosed".

I called this blog 'heart controller' because I believe that the heart is the centre of the human being, and if a person can control it, then he/she can control his/her brain and the rest of the body, but if it decomposes, then the entire body decompose, too.

Remember, Bu Thyab it is!!