Those days are still around
Right there in the eyes
Small pieces of scripture
Spiritual desperation
Down all those long years gone
Gleaming
Needing
Seething
Spitting teeth and grieving
And a child still cries
In all the bleakest nights
Within the shell of an adult
Still cries, still cries
Still prays for someone kind
To stop the shaking
And wipe away the tears
To fill the belly
To count the injuries
And fill in the forms
But nothing ever -
Somehow never -
Helps

                By Phil Roberts

I wow not to leave this earth a lonely *****,
Taunted by past lovers who label me as a witch?
Here I am today, keeping my eyes on the price,
I wow never again to be fed by more optimistic lies

From the Caribbean to the Central American shore
Every woman need to be love and to be adored
And not be willfully be subjected
to the life of a married man's *****

I have found solace in my poetry,
Therefore, I cannot commit adultery?

Living with shame, guilt and
asking God to forgive a sinner
Here I am today keeping my eyes on the price,
I just became an instant lucky winner:

Because of that little girl from across the Caribbean Sea
Who travels led her to the Central American shore
Once she said no more, she meant no more

A woman like me is often misunderstood.
Because of the path I have taken through the woods
I have listened numerous times to the blabbing brook
Who comments were rude, about the rich folks

But instead I observe from my homeless tent, the high achievers
I took it all in stride, while the mosquitoes chew on my legs
Women like me aren’t afraid to dream,
Neither are we bashful to wear
the wide rim hat at Easter time
Because all eyes would be on the winners (us)

Herd mentality is spreading,
it is the new plague.
Madness is surging
at the end of all days.
The hive mind is swarming
and set to engage.

We could have done more;
we should have known better.
We're one and the same;
we'll all rot together.
We're one and the same;
but birds of a feather.

A drop of dew on thirsty petals bring real harmony
A heart beat when touches another makes symphony
Love is a continuous source of pleasure through agony
Which ultimately brings to the lap of beauty buoyancy

Let me be in your heart my love to steal your heart beats
Being in love is a state where one being blind openly greets
Where all differences are to vanish between poor and elites
Love being victorious is a set of just continuous defeats

Lord has sent love to be the essence of his desirous relation
My love is based on my wonderful innocent love passion
It is in complete silence through eyes and heart's narration
Please do not ask from me what is love's taste and fashion

Col Muhammad Khalid khan
Copyright 2017 Golden Glow

A question is simply a question
Unless taken as a slap...
Then refusing to answer is a confession
And the question , they suddenly turn it into a trap ....
....that never existed
       Or ever would have
If answered.... instead of resisted.

i've always sanded down
the edges 'cause i'm sharp
as your mama's wit and just
as fast,

sometimes the words all fall to
the side like marbles in a bag
but they're all tourmaline and jade
just like the old wives tale
there have never been snakes here,

run the faucets, run the faucets
the tile has no room for all the light
there are fawns beneath the sink
and kudzu spreading across
my skin,

the blue granite in the kitchen
looks like ocean, ive opened the
windows and the birds have made
their home, the sky has
crept in, the clouds are in the
mud room,

it's raining here but the sun is out
i tried the desert once but it was
no good, there are sand flowers
but I am not
one

and if I am, I take the water
feed the ground, the joy has
always settled but i was never
meant for flight, I've always
come up from the earth
wound around the grape
vine, stood too long
and the long grass
takes
me
but

the blue granite tile
run the faucets, flood the gates
I was not made to reap no-thing.