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It is very easy to bear a child
when you are a good parent or not

It is also not too tough to write some words
when you are a good poet or not

But it is too tough for a parent to grow up   
their child as being a real man

As it is too tough for a poet to make
a meaningful poem with those words

Though either you are a very good parent
or a very good poet

///
@ Musfiq us shaleheen

WARNING*:  *Horror...you might find this series offensive or distressing if you are not used to horror.
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1)
I know
once I was just like you
I was young and furious too
the world was too much
everyone made you feel
so hopeless, you think you could ****
I know exactly
how you feel

Like the time
my parents kept on and on
about responsibility
I had to look after my things,
that made me mad

And then I decided
I must assure them
I would grow up to be responsible
make them feel confident
I must put them at ease
so I did

And the police asked me
if I knew where they'd gone
and I showed the cops my perplexity:
“They were always
responsible in everything -
how could they just go away
and leave me like this?”

The police and lawyers searched the house
and they found the will -
my parents had left everything to me
and had put my siblings
neat in order
stretched out on the dining table
in the basement kitchen

Fourteen paces apart
They stood face to face
The place was Belvedere
In death’s close embrace!

It was morn at half past five
Air thick in rivalry
On stake was hung two life
They were bitter enemy!

As it lies all evil’s root
False ego and vain pride
Squabble and dispute
Demons men can’t hide!

That hour was eerily lull
Birds stopped to chirp in trees
As glistened the two pistols
And none could afford to miss!

Damp was the August clime
Time perched on rested wing
Zeroed in the scheduled time
Broke out the starter’s ring!

Francis fired first
But preordained was fate
Though loud went the burst
He badly missed target!

Pierced his powder’s stings
This time was there no miss
Found his mark Hastings
Fell to the ground Francis!

He muttered I’m a dead man
Hastings ran to the spot
Uttering as he ran
Good God I hope not!

The day turned golden bright
Mist of smoke dispersed
Revealed the glorious sight
How his enemy Hastings nursed!

~
I am standing in such a space
that like an event horizon
where there everything is moving towards the dark
and usually the opposite is the light

The two ways are very distinct
the light
and the dark
but I am wondering for light
And I see,
any existence of objects that stand on the space,
and even time moving towards the dark

The attraction of dark is too high
its gravity beyond,
attracting the young and the old
it bends all the waves and moving towards the black hole
passing as clouds through the event horizon
where there I have stood
there is a boundary
between the heaven and hell

On the boundary,
the hell I see very near
and the heaven, I saw before
cause still I have some feelings
and all my feelings are accumulating in the bean
but the feelings have a little gravity
either good or evil
neither soft nor compact
all drops from the heaven's wall

It has grown more with time
compact more and more
either in core of heart or in pore of spaces
neither in sticky sand nor in the serene soul
all are moving toward the dark

And finally,
I see a big crunch in the dark
but still some particles of light are floating over the dark
and some are still struggling on the horizon
others are waiting on the event horizon to move toward the dark hell
and I am standing on the wall of the event horizon
neither my mind wants to move in the hell
nor I can moving back to the heaven

~
@Musfiq us shaleheen