Wishful Sleep

In my dreams I breath underwater
I sleep and all is well
upon my waking moment I feel cold winter’s bite
despite this fiery hell

Enough!

You said you needed a finger
That one of mine would suffice (It wasn’t enough)
I went and cut off my hand
And later bore the price (But it wasn’t enough)
You said you needed a foot
That mine was way too small (It would never be enough)
So I cut off both my feet
And later had to crawl (But it still wasn’t enough)
You said you needed a lung
That you were short of one (It wasn’t enough)
I gave you one of mine
Well, then, I was short of one (Yet, it wasn’t enough)
Before you needed anything else
I ripped my heart from my chest (Maybe that would be enough)
But you looked at me and said: ”Actually,
I’m in need of something else’

Dreams

High up in the sky in the glistening moonlight
My dreams float on clouds, comfy and right
Somewhere they won’t feel a fingertip
Somewhere I won’t have a sip
of them

It’s better they stay out of sight
So they won’t ever have to have a fight
Their soul awakens only in the night
They wander and wander but don’t find light

They cannot handle the hand of one
The fear of being ashes to the sun
They CANNOT, they WILL NOT shun

In one of the 24 hours, they gave in
It felt like a joy but it was a sin
They were hoping higher in one’s hand
Little they knew, soon, they’ll be grains of sand

Higher and Higher their hopes flew
Higher and Higher but none of them knew
The ray of the sun was striking at their heart
It shot! Bulls eye! Just like a dart.

Down and Down they fell
Still in the air, on the way to hell
One sin! Giving in! Led to a deadend
They shattered like Glass, It was the end…
Of them

The moon sent a shooting star
It was so near though it was so far
It awakened their souls In the day
To their home, they made their way

My dreams float on clouds, comfy and right
They made sure they stayed out of sight
They vowed in that very day
To never give way
of them.

I never imagined I’d be so insignificant

I never imagined I’d be so

insignificant.

I always thought I would save the world.

I always thought I would do

something –

history would preserve me;

The Great.

 

I cannot recall the exact point when,

but after innocence and the muck of puberty,

destiny gave way to

the quiet, chipping away of conviction;

the slow dissolving of

faith.

 

And I find myself woken up to

someone I would not recognise –

a stranger sans fire;

grappling with time and

the timelessness of ashes and dust;

grasping for any mention of special.

 

I find myself warm in my mediocre,

and the aspirations of others

yet uncomfortable in myself.

 

I never imagined I’d be so

insignificant,

nor so far gone that

I know not what to dream for anymore.

Palestine

Women are dying people are crying.
Lives are scattered bodies battered
Bombs are flying but they say we are lying
They live in a bed but we live in a shread
They say its tragic but we know as barbaric
They sleep we weep They use weapons we use stone
We live on the door of humanity but they are insanity
They know we dignified
they drip in green of of our
hard earned land
they eat sleep tear our land
but we says its in gods hands

In the kingdom

I suckled from the tree of life
Lost sight of the light
Painted my soul dark so I walk the nights
In paths frightening the fearless of souls I ride
Schizophrenic brain abluted knight
I feint the saints at sight
Stories told of me are legion-are we?
Fighting a lost war, to what glory is a won battle?
How does one fight his creator?
With every blow we throw my spirit worsens
Still seek I nurture
Away green pastures further
But farther seems my departure
The only hope of escape lies in God
A God of which I oppose Not
By choice
For I mistakenly suckled from the tree of life
And lost sight of the light

My heart is a homeless man.

My heart knows what it wants

Yet it knows it cant have

It is like a homeless man who knows what he wants to eat

But cant afford to eat it

My mind knows what is right

Yet my heart is the stronger of the two

It is like a homeless man fiercly pushing his cart

But the car will always out pace him

My mouth knows what it wants to sound

Yet my mind comprehends the future

It is like a homeless man who knows what he wants to ask for

But his pride cannot take a bigger load

My senses continue crucial conflict

Yet I will always be at peace with my love.

– Jerry Wooters

My little world

It must be the greatest feeling to be truly happy with yourself and your situation; Like actually be at the place where you are able to accept that you need to forget what’s gone, appreciate what still remains and look forward to what’s coming next. Heavens, is that difficult! Our little world – the place that we all escape to, is the gift that can never be opened by anyone else. My little world is consumed with words: words of greats, legends , poets. Words are my escape, my own little hide-out. Sometimes, it’s even a guilty pleasure. Words, to me, are what boxing gloves are to Ali. For the time I’m with them, I am able to defeat crippling inhibitions and be champion of Self. My little world of words is my pocket of bliss against the hems of flames of the world.

My Concealer

Of all sorts of make-up
concealer works best for me.
I use it as soon as I wake up,
it has become part of my identity.

At night I clean my face
And my scars become clear.
For when Im in my own space,
there’s no need for me to fear.

That people will see my pain
and offer me their sympathy.
In their thoughts rehearsing my name-
Thinking, oh, what a pity.

Tomorrow, again, I’ll start my day
By putting on a smile and pretending that I’m gay.

Birth

a crying angel
went down
to that dark place
where kings defecate
and the eye
is an empty space
: upon earth’s
soft soiled bed
the weeper
rested his head
dreaming
diligently
divinely
of daylight’s
pregnant dead
alas: the virgin cave
begot
a blind
God