Night, I call you
the sanctuary of the lost
and the no-good,
like the hawk down
in my pillow case
full of forgotten dreams
that old hound time
tears apart like bones
tossed under the table,
so I pull on my new boots
and walk in the dark
with no place to go
but the road that leads
to the ferry by the river,
because unlike lost friends
and dead family, the cold
water will always take me in.

My north star is at the verge to sink
My love forgive me to break the link
The wine of death I have to drink
Please do not take me back from brink

I know that my survival is at stake
Let me take from my life just a break
I will melt on rock like a snow flake
Let me take this moment to partake

My love I pay last salute to the beauty
Let me take in my eyes image so pretty
My body will go my soul will be free
Allow a drop of water to go back to sea

Col Muhammad Khalid Khan
Copyright 2016 Golden Glow

We are wise beyond
our years, strands of
time woven in our eyes,
capable of seeing the
dim, far out casting light,
we can see beyond the
usual smiles full of bleak
empty cheer, we can celebrate
the meaning of life with
an open mind, not by
civilization's rules and mankind,
streaming silver moonlight
among shining twinkling stars,
the trail of light footsteps among
the moonlit sea of night,
through the dark sea
we will get so far,
so easy to dwell in the
confusion and the dullness
of every second and everyday,
but bit by bit we are fighting
our ways, towards
an infinite world.

I came out here hoping for a clue

I found satisfaction
I'm feeling quite nice

I fell away from the rest
lost in a man made haunting
I still felt the joy of transparency

That last moment of ecstasy is where true inspiration lies

However it's fleeting through such  chaotic vision

Sometimes the wires hanging for communication unravel from neglect

Out here in these forgotten spaces breathing comes easy

One can forget his nature and succumb to a more primitive state

In this form simplicity reigns
walk with ease
Sun tinted and dusted
Nature's natural weave woven

But free will is such a beautiful mishap

So to sacrifice that gift for the sake of slow motion seems cowardly

An ignition falters in light of these new procedures

I come back down to earth once in awhile

Sitting here now I feel the humor that caused my last collapse

Watch the complex complicate for the sake of boredom

The strings attached breathe simplicity

So strange these creations
We make them hurriedly
Excusing lives lost for comfort

I came here hoping to unwind

but this carbonation hinders my side step

I hear the hum of the suburban atrocities

I care not for your new satin curtains or white picket fences

Why does your happiness have to be mine?

I have no interest in your self pasta steamer

I feel only joy and confusion that your yoga cancellation is the biggest bad of your day

So I look out of my corners wishing for an escape

In the distance that sanctuary already long forgotten

I see the pines and lack of hate communicated

I ease out of the flesh boxes and word salads

Make my way back to that high point where I roam with that universal flaw

That too much of oneself leads to unhinged behaviour and flight in the most hysterical

my mother always said
"don't fall in love with a poet"
they pretend to love you
but what they really love
is writing about loving you
you are mere words to them
feelings cheapened by a page,
dusty grey typewriters,
and many unfinished drafts
of lovers both old and new,
you are the question mark,
but not the answer,
they are searching for ?
person unidentified: mystery
the page wanderer,
each poem a missing
person poster to cover their
bedroom walls.
they cannot love something
that is in their head
poets are the loneliest of
all people, my mother said.
they write to immortalize
what has long passed.
to live within their words,
but not reality,
lost souls writing suicide notes
and proclaiming it art.

When winds at night on windows roar
wax runs out dies candle's flame
you would hear a knock upon door
a familiar voice calling your name.

Don't respond nor open the eyes
the voice is keen over winds' howl
grows it louder its pitches rise
scaring even the brave barn owl.

Pull the blanket up your head
you are safe so long you hide
lie dead quiet not move on bed
with mom asleep by your side.

Between the pause your fears mount
if is a chance to be found out
one two three the calls you count
but count it right leave no doubt.

Three times the voice would call your name
for it has no power to do any more
but move onto where dies a candle's flame
and a child is awake behind closed door.