Many have said why do I write so much.
I said
"I been listening to the flow of art of my pen".

The beautiful voices that have said to me to CONTINUE.
You can listen to my pen and
what it has said
to this piece of paper.

There are times where I can no longer see myself as a person.
Only what's coming out of my pen,
The ink I compare my self to.
But where has the emotions gone to?
If I'm only ink?

Emotions that I can never discribe.
Ink that crys on it own
For every movement my hand makes,
A different form of pain comes out.
Emotions that can only be  described through this pen.
Excietment, happiness, pain and sarrow,
all coming out at once.

There are nights where I close my self to the world, while under the night light preferring to open up with my Pen.

The last drops of ink has spilled
An said out loud

A Pen without ink is a Pen without it's owners soul.


                                                            By ERS

After all this time I can now sit an write
Forgetting my pass years of endless flights.
Desintations among the shadows,
Where images cannot Appear.
For some reason
I closed my self to this lonesome fog.
Making my ink
to stop.
My Agony becomes extensions of deadly Airs,
For dying leaves to settle in my grave.
My lonely nights
Are poems in a difficult times
Turning beautiful flowers to gloom
In cemeteries.
It appears me that I have open my self to a word of emptiness,
An rumours to me became a curtain for eyes to never see happiness.
As I say in between my words
An call out
"I feel Alone among millions"…..



                                                 ­          By  
                                                            ­    E.R.S

I have committed a crime,
The cine that I have made
when my eyes saw you for the first time.
The first time was like a star has strucked me.
Zeus's bot has no impact like you have had in me.
It's like sleeping became a recipe for all my fantasies  with you.
A dream with you I had many times,
Then I wake up bathed in sweat
And seeing you werent next to me.

A dream i had with you,
Ment dreaming with my eyes open,
Am I dead or alive?

Made you a main character that I can not chase in real life.




            
                                                    BY ERS

There are many times where I close my self to the world
An reveal a part of me
that's full of anger,
Because these emotions
are all bottle up in every dark corner of my body.
Its as if the mystery of the ocean has been
finally revealed out to the world.
I know it the complete opposite
It doesn't need to rhyme nor make sense,
It's called crying
Like the little bit of rain we all need, but
Doesn't let a rainbow to show it colors when it stops.
I over think alot
an over analys things
An create walls in me.
It's called inslavment of the mind.
Everyone says open up,
But the insecurity hits me like a brick wall
I know that's what I believe, but those are called tears.
Mean while the sun blinds me with its beauty, yet I have no senses to let my bottled emotions out to the light.
The darkest corners of my body
are yet deceiving, but that's how I made them feel into.
Shallow waters  I've been there, an made it my playground.
This is me in my final hour, crying all out
because I don't want these bottled feelings any more.

It's called crying this monster out…..


                                                BY ERS

Love is...
      
      Breathless anxiety
      Of amplified emotions
      With uncomfortable growth
      And shuddering awe
      Of inconsolable gratitude.

Even if you're not here,
Even if we're not in contact,
Even if its been a long time that i saw you,
Even on the days i'm angryand bitter,
Even when nothing is fine and life's a mess.
Even if my hopes are gone and my faith's fading away, slowly and slowly.
I'll still choose to be in love with you.
I'll breath deeply and slowly,
Praying for you,
Willing all my love to follow you where ever you go.

Cherry blossoms from slumber awaken,
As she passes by in blithe, lissome grace,
Only to fall to ground, souls forsaken,
To that mesmerising smile on her face.

Stars adorn her shapely neck as diamonds,
The pale moonlight her fair countenance be,
Rubies glowing from western horizons,
Cast a fleeting blush on those cheeks shyly.

I bow down low to this divine spectre,
Trampled blossoms by her feet are Incense,
Hitherto abandoned pen, gold Sceptre,
Myrrh of heart’s blood, become my obeisance.

From the God Himself I seek forgiveness,
For, my verses have made love to His Goddess

He watched you cry
He watched you bleed
He saved your life
Which isn’t yours to keep
So why do you question
His intentions?
He created you
With all your imperfections
He tests you today
So you can see tomorrow
In the hereafter
Without the sorrow
Of the Dunya we chase
While putting the Deen aside
We exploit His Grace
And refuse to abide by
The simple rules He’s lodged
For our own benefit
We disregard the elephant
In the room in which we sleep
The Muslims of today are no less than sheep
Following the norms of western society
Forgetting our own and neglecting the Deity

My Low Heart is Encrypted in Gold

Your Love is my Pen

I take your speech and write it Bold

You lay over there trying to Learn

Why I feel so glad that I am Sad

Speechless

Like red flags in your Cold War

But I am locked in a War Room

I am still down here Dreaming

My mirror talks back to me Am I Dreaming?

I lay awake all night

Sad as rain in Summer

staring at the light

trying to find your gate

I find you staring profusely

dreaming in breathing out

you have pushed me to the wall

Oops they say I am psychic

but all I have within me is fantastic

but my tears fill up your room

God help me get this through