Wow wee, what a day. I am getting squeezed from every corner. First of
all I added 8 pounds in the last 4 weeks all across my waist. Second,
my love, my sweet heart I think had gone extinct, haven’t heard from or
seen for a while now. Third, this work I am doing which I am supposed
to finish by January 30th got preponed to December 19th. That is one
heck of a screw up. I have to work like 14 hours a day to finish this
whole thing by that time. I will be burned out by Christmas time.
The good part is when I really get crushed like this I write
well. So if anyone is thinking that you can see shorter poems you are
way wrong. I am planning to finish the entire Tess poems and another 7
more large poems by the end of this year. Where will I get the time?
Cut my sleep from 4 hours a day to 3. haha.
I’ve heard couple of people saying that I was drunk when I posted
the pictures and called myself genetically mutated pineapple. I still
call myself that. Well it looks much bad than that now, I shaved so now
I call myself rotten bucket of mashed potatoes. But here is the truth…
I don’t drink… never touched alcohol in my life, because I am a Muslim
(a good one not the kind that explodes in markets and buses). It is
haram (illegal) for me to be intoxicated. You may call me crazy… I
won’t agree. But I may quote a line from a song. “I am not crazy… just
a little unwell”.
This poem is for My Darling.
Heaven
I woke up with a shout at myself,
“Hold on to the view in the minds eye,
There is more life in there flourishing,
Than the animation going on around.”
The mockery by time so irresistible,
The cruelty of the lucky few, unbearable,
Oh’ all vanity became insanity,
Logic and reason in another galaxy, vacationing,
Every bit of life gathering rust and mold,
And back to my sleep I fell,
With pain in my heart, piercing
Upon a piece of cloud I lay for a moment of joy,
There was a cupid flying around firing arrows,
But all of them plunged into a mud pond,
And forever buried in love’s sorrow.
Up from the cloud I saw all ways from my heart,
They all look same going on and on winding,
All of them ending back in my heart,
Empty and shallow with no foot steps seen,
Broken chains and wedges scattered around,
Life never seen any of these ways at all.
If it is a thousand times I will be given this life,
I will live again and again and try to win your heart,
And pray through every breath of mine,
To be buried at least once in your heart,
As that is the only heaven I know.
ryc: I’m not so sure that I’d call someone that does drugs with their five-year-old child a “cool mother”. She didn’t bring me up; I raised myself and my siblings.
Unless you’ve had my mother and were subjected to her abuse and negligence, we’ll have to agree to disagree.
haha Tom and Jerry! aww lovely poem!!
That was beautiful. The symbolism you use to portray the insanity of life is wonderful…I really enjoyed it.
It would seem that you yourself are going through insanity…you express your chaos well. I hope that your world stops spinning enough to allow your peace to settle.
beautiful poem…looks like winter’s banging on your window panes both literally and figuratively…in one of my favorite childhood stories a line that still hangs in my mind is “…but spring was just around the corner.”…write that down and post it on your bathroom mirror…it’s true.
Hope everything turns out alright with work.
Thanks again for the help with Steven’s poem. I have the manuscript done for the book but my friend who proof read it said I should think about adding more material to it. I have a bunch of more poems and a few short stories, along with a handle full of essays but I don’t want to over run Steven’s poems in the back of the book. (in case I didn’t tell you my friend died last summer in a car crash and now I am putting all of his poems in a collection of my work and calling it To Steven). What do you think?
Also I don’t think you look like a mutated pineapple. Maybe a demented pear but definately not a mutated pineapple.
Hope you had a great Thanks Giving, peace.
-Pilgrim of Truth
Beautiful poem.
Nice poem…..but i aint givin you the props for the poem, im givin em for callin it christmas and not holidays. I’ll never get over the fact we have a war on christmas….eep. holla back
Yes I understand the work thing , you’re lucky, after so much work I just kinda shut down. I get drunk from the lack of sleep, don’t need any alcohol.
Love these lines in your poem
” To be buried at least once in your heart,
As that is the only heaven I know.”
yes I can identify with them.
Chris
drop it like it’s hot!