.....
True love can't always go in a certain way
As you don't always think before a step
It may even beyond imagination-
But finally it is a sacrifice for life-
Which gentlemen may count after reading the book
...
@Musfiq us shaleheen

...
You come alone in the silence
Yet I see you
Love you
In the darkness
.....
@Musfiq us shaleheen

If I look back
A black rose come on wet tears of streams
And she took off
In the womb of evening tide

If I look back
An old dusty city
Rows of abandoned cars, houses
And a raven stands on the rotten piles of *******

If I look back
A broken frame of glasses on a gray letter in a table
Mystic shadows falling on the light of autumn afternoon
Cradling with the words of unspoken love

If I look back
What gives love, I know also takes too many
Again cover in the dark
Letters of time come to fold
      
         Every single word is a black stone
         Comes out  from the womb of the earth
         Each word is exploded in a loud word, in synonyms
         Certainly fire flashed in buildings, fake minds
         Civilization of all uncivilized

And yet if I look back
A black spot comes back into the line of light
The old raven sitting on it
And on his lips that gray letter of love

@ Musfiq us shaleheen

my mind is blind
with this soft sweetness of wind
where dry leaves are blown
Again I find myself alone

An echo on the other side of the wall
I hear a mystic call
but on my eye
the light saying goodbye

The same scene repeats itself
Once again i run away from my lover's debt

As i breath in your love, i exhale my lies
Am i wrongful to you with my duplicated life?

I will soon disappear and leave you with a letter.
I have to find my freedom, isn't that what really matters?

When will i conquer my cursed ability?
My talent to transform lies into a creative reality.

Is this true? i don't really know
In the end however, i shall die alone.


Words Of Harfouchism

Moxie after a short nap,
crescive energy from the
Cream-sugared taste; Java
A-plenty.

                                   Another minute to
                                   Waste; for this life's
                                   Not long enough.

A coy wouldst be nice,
For tis I am human,
A convive with
Scented candles,
Bare feet; none
Shoes nor sandal.

                                    I seekest contemning
                                    Not more doubts and
                                    In tears to be oceans
                                    For swimming; but
                                    Like a newborn, I
                                    Want to be rocked
                                    In one's arm's, and
                                    Fingertips touching,
                                    Two separate souls
                                    Connecting, as mine
                                    Legs cross with one,
                                    Side to side; arm to
                                    Arms. Mine hand
                                    Over ones hips,
                                    Tightly squeezing.
                                    Lips bitten a bit
                                    For kiss, a gentle
                                    Bleeding, two-
                                    Hearts beating,
                                    Becoming one
                                    Flesh, ones head
                                    Resting upon this
                                    Ancient chest. To
                                    Kiss one's forehead,
                                    And sayest (hey mine
                                    Queen), wakie wakie
                                    Mine love, tis the morn,
                                    I made thee breakfast-
                                    Toast with butter, jelly,
                                    Eggs with cheese on
                                    On top; hot coffee.
                                    Id stroke ones hair
                                   Mine fingers caress
                                   One's scalp and head.
                                  I'll just stop before I
                                 Keep going, these art
                                 Just wantings kept un-
                                 Said. I think I'll just go
                                Back to bed. I think I'll
                                Get lost in mine head.


  


                       © Brandon nagley
                   © Lonesome poets poetry

~~
I do not know
Where they are going
Whom or what work
Who or what could be
Beyond their border

Though everyone outside
Introducing while crossing occurs
As if an art of rain
Freaky clouds of Autumn
Beckoning like a floating crane

Stream of life behind the beauty
Turned away see the river flowing
Pulls of upstream,
Stunning horizon,
Longing for losing

Blind beauty of the bare form
Ah! itself an amazing outburst
"There have to go with the glory of tunes"
"There have to go for the needs of life"
~~
@Musfiq us shaleheen