Heart Controller

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 th of November 2011

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 th of October 2011

Trickling rain and thunderous lightning, Whispering wind and rustling leaves, Concealed moon and dark forests, Murky night and black creatures. Damp soil and central campfire, Upright tents and crackling sticks, Breathing deep and silent tears, Seven men and eighth inscribing. Weary brain and ashen heart, Painful chest and burning eyes, Calloused feet and quivering hands, Empty hugs and 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 my wife? Where are you? Saturday, 08 th of October 2011

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 th of September 2011

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 th January 2011

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 as...

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