Heart Controller

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

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

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

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' 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, ...

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

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