I miss thee, I hath to admit
I want to witness again thy stunning smile so sweet
And how th' sun always kindly, and generously, touchest thy dark hair
Then shalt thou breakest into endless jokes and childish wit
'Fore rising a tender smile, as we greet each other by th' circular stairs.

I bet thou art still remarkable and stupendous as usual
Thou whom I'th known since last grey fall
By th' ponderous sleeping lake; in th' midst of a burly night;
Thou stared through me with a pair of unfathomable eyes;
as though thou couldst makest everything in my heart-better and right;
and yon, yon colourlessness of th' night, shinest so beautifully as butterflies.
Thou wert, indeedst, not th' paleness I had dreamed,
thou wert not bleak, thou wert not mean.
Thou still shined brightly though chilled and dimmed,
thou wert damp, but sunny-just like th' nearby shuffling trances
to which I had never been.
At times thou canst seem lazy, ah-but thou'rt indeedst not!
As just I do, thou liveth thy life from dot to dot,
thou leapest from time to time in my story,
thou, though far away, somehow always seem near,
and be sitting here idly with me and my poetry.
Thou might be close not to my ears,
but I canst listenest to thee; as thou eat and pray,
and as thou waketh, to every single inevitable day.
T'is life, which canst somehow be bitter,
shalt at times corruptest thy happiness and thy laughter;
wringing thee into false devotion and meanness,
but be sure, my love, t'at I shalt be thy cure;
I shalt be thy unhealed passion and all-new tenderness.
I shalt be thy first salvation, honesty and satiation;
I shalt be a scarf t'at giveth thee warmth, and thy hated mediation;
hated and dejected by t'is dreadful world, my love,
t'is world which knowest not t'at love is everything above.
And I shalt be thy heaven, and holiness,
and thy greenest grass when it is too dark,
as t'is world hurts and drivest away from frankness;
and within its grim sacrifice, lettest go of its single spark.
Ah, thee, thy innocence is just like my own soul,
but it is what makest thee divine as gold;
thou art ever pure, and incessantly pure,
and thy jokes and ventures and preachings flawless and true.
And in t'is weary life-which is sometimes faultless but unsure,
thou always makest me feel honoured;
makest me feel brand new.

Ah, Kozarev, thou art my immortal twin star,
and thy lips my sophisticated fragrant moon;
thou art my umbrella in yon idyllic heaven afar,
fade away not, but thou drifted away too soon!
My love, but sketchest again our undying night,
t'is time with a new ***** of light,
and giveth me comfort within which,
and flinch no more, for I shalt not flinch.
Thy genuinity is my nature,
thy childishness is my cure;
for t'ere are no more lips as naive as thine,
though t'ey oftentimes seemest spotless,
and t'eir toughness, seemest fine.

Ah, Kozzie, only fate t'at shalt makest out paths eventually align;
fate who hath sent me sweet prophecies, and a truthful bold sign.
Let me be thy grace, and thy sole, immortal lady;
let me be such craze, so t'at thou shalt always be with me.
I shalt be thy doll, and thy very own addict;
I shalt nursest, and cherishest thee every day of the week.
And joy, and its miraculous delight shalt be ours alone,
fallen fast asleep by night, and renewed by upcoming morns.
Together shalt we teasest every passing minute and hour;
and treatest all 'em nicely, just like how we deemeth t'at laugh, of ours.
And when nightfall greetest, sleep, my love, sleep;
thy red, innocent cheeks shalt I kiss; thy greatest dreams shalt I keep.

Kozarev, and fliest me again to th' melancholy Sofia,
wherein our peace shalt dwellest, and be cheered and alive.
But let me first fetch my old, talkative umbrella;
for Sofia shalt be full of rain; but one t'at makest it safe, and thrive.
Ah, Sofia, our little haven like yon nearby oak chatroom,
old as it is, but still-tenderer t'an t'is ever lonely gloom;
I bet Sofia is still warmer t'an t'is fraudulent war of my heart,
though it is, of now, far and sat by a land wholly apart.
Oh, Sofia, in which our love shalt be adequate, but still-inadequate,
for our love is more benign, ye' at times-more capricious t'an fate.
And it is raw, but ripe, like a mature cherry;
it hath neither tears, nor hate, nor brave worry!
Ah, my love; but again fly me, fly me, t'ere-
for cannot I waitest to live my life with thee;
and so promise t'at I shalt not bend, nor go else anywhere,
so long as thou shalt stayest, and liveth thy future years with me.

Oh, and I shalt forsaketh thee no more;
and disdaineth thee no more-thou art my sonata!
My delight liest in hearing thy sonnets be told;
thou sitting by me 'fore moonlight, down on th' starlit piazza!
Ah, Kozarev, please no longer makest my heart sore-
I am sick to death, I detestest t'is grief to th' core;
Burnest my heart's cries, and indulgest me in thy arms,
I shalt brimmest in thy glory; and gratefully lost, in thy charms.

As th' world turnest so weak and rough,
we shalt be th' sole ones to fall in love;
but our idyll is one t'is envious world cannot gather;
as it growest bleaker, as it turnest worse.
But Kozarev, having thee by my side shalt be enough;
and my days shalt be no more sad, nor tough;
Thou art th' candle, t'at lightest up th' life within me,
thou art th' candy, t'at livenest up all my poetry.

Don't just listen.
Feel.
Because the answers don't always come
In loud preachings and audible words.
Sometimes they come
In the dark of the night
Brought by the silent whispers
Or the cold midnight breeze.
Sometimes your heart hears
More than your ears do.

The eternal council
A group of black disciples
All knowing
This is why they keep going
Determined and outfit
It’s a common gift
For the people of this cycle
Inter-dimensional at a angle
They see all, They know all
This is why they can’t fall
Always been a part, Always burdened from the start
Celestial glimpses as a art
Frequency is the common key
And this is what they teach
Where the opposed are the decreased
No matter any battle or uncommon disciple
They know whats coming: It’s reliable
Their purpose lacks evil, its all for the people
And any corruption or stolen melanin
Cannot deprive the win from this powerful council
It’s in the nature, it’s a seal in the paper
It’s upon the bark of the brazen tree
Where all the demons flee, where the gifted get their energy
Like the hieroglyphs upon the source
Prepared within the proper course
It’s the preachings upon the stars
Pointing clues at who the true gods really are
Like the truth shown in specs of media
The proof of the visible dominator's
And the majority doesn’t even know her
Just stuck within the grasps of one giant needle
Preventing the truth from being see-able
And yet we’re suffocating in the air we call breath-able
And each day as we unknowingly sin
The real pain doesn’t even start to begin
From the start, they tried to peel us apart
Good from evil, evil from people
But the sad truth is: it’s non-separating
It’s like we’re all bathing in this sad little craving
Of the idea of the “powered” all behaving
Thats why they’re sad, they can’t help us
Because they think saving humanity is a must
This council, this group of black disciples
Does know what happens, while the real ancestors are laughing
Another great reason to be a part of this eternal council.

Still safe in soul
locked forever, won't let go

light years to cross
you in heaven, I know

watch for me
and keep me safe
my guarding angel in god's place

following your footsteps
in the sand of time
deeply engraved
your preachings sublime

Manisha

at 16 they taught u
s about shakespea
re, how? but now I
realize there was m
ore learned than bl
ank stares at teache
rs waiting for bells
to slide departures
under the doors of
blank minds. balco
ny preachings in fr
ont of loveless tang
ents foreshadowing
the curvature of the
then mindless. 5 ye
ars gone i still find m
yself wandering aim
lessly to the next cla
ss with the thought o
f the useless priors a
nd the books are get
ting heavier

kneel down at the church and hope to God he's listening
****** mary was always crying, always looking up past the ceiling, the choir always singing about cleaning your heart because jesus wanted a clear glasshouse
what's that? is it the beat of my stained heart or the gasps between tears in my room?
my loss of faith only came when a new feeling knocked on my door: love
but it wasn't the "normal" love that i had been hearing in preachings –forget that, it wasn't jesus loving me or some boy trying to get my attention, it was a girl– which was so taboo in my house and school that i didn't even know that was possible.
three words came out of research: homophobic, homosexual, lesbian
I looked past the ceiling when I realised caught feelings for this girl and when she asked me out I prayed to God, the one we were taught about in preachings, that this would be worth it, that this would last long, that this would be supported love–but forget it, he wasn't listening
I tried calling him, i confessed, i mentally and physically tried to clear my glasshouse. I went to church, i got prophecies told by the local preachers, i sang and quoted the bible, where was he? where was he when i needed him when my parents told me to stop loving her? where was he when my depression came around and decided to ruin everything? did he let me down on purpose for not following his rules? and when i found out that other religions existed, was he punishing me for sinning? Questioning his existence under the catholic faith turned him into a deception
And what was the point of that? Teaching me how to be a better human being by punishing me and shaming what i thought was okay? Love is supposed to be okay, love is supposed to be supported and supportive, love is supposed to protect and be protected –and all i get is being thrown out to the curb because i found love? Because it wasn't the "right" kind of love?
jesus, i hope to god you're not listening anymore

sometimes i wonder
is this all we could have been?
this mundane little bubble
and all that lies therein?

all there is to do,
all the places we are needed
all the problems we have caused
and the progressions we've impeded

soothed by the exchange of a small piece of paper
for useless items we're told we need
to fit into an image of a generic person
complicit in a culture we immortalize and breed

or others by their own conviction
in a set of rules older than this
to tell them how to make decisions
and promise them eternal bliss

each taught not to question preachings
or face some form of indefinite sanction
to remain obedient to a master
legitimizing the subsequent action

i don't understand.

how can this be the epitome of civilisation
so full of ignorance and hatred
we fail to see the beauty that surrounds?

how can this be the epitome of human intelligence
that we need glass screens for communication
and lenses to record our every movement?

how can this be the epitome of the human existence
that inequality is perpetuated
and poverty ignored?

one day you will realise what it is you have done
in your desperate bid for power.
you doomed the endurance of your kind
for the sake of one, tall tower.

He sat down
by the bar with a bottle of
whiskey.
And while the angels sang
he listened
to the preachings
of a crooked bartender
Whose days were filled with drunk forgotten nights,
and he knew
for first time
that he has
never felt more
close to God.

I may not have been your grand daughter,
but I loved and respected you like a grand mother.

Every time I visited,
you would rest your hand in mine and say,
When nothing goes right just take a moment and pray,
remember Lord Buddha,
and what his preachings say.

I had just finished one of my exams
and i hear you're gone
i knew everyone wept, wept - a lot.
but I didn't.

as I know,
that you'll be in a better place,
and
that life does not always end at death.
that's what one of Lord Buddha's teachings said.

Would you remember,the times when
we were cracking jokes?
would you cry over, by reminiscing those days
which I cared you even more?
would you sit there all alone,
and wish,this should be a dream?
would you keep looking me in all selfies we took?
would you take my guitar and,hum my favourite song,
without shedding tears?
would you remove the dust from all the trophies,
which I had once achieved?
would you sleep every night, hugging my pillow and my frame?
would you smell my favourite blue hoodie,draped with my
favourite perfume?
would you miss my preachings,which I had always tried to say,
by walking behind you ,wherever you go?
would you take a look at my diary in which, each page has only
to say about you....?

I miss the places I never been before.
I like the bands which haven't made yet.
I connect with the people I have never met.
I talk to people who are not there.
I can remember the incidents which never occurred.
I hear the noises which were never made.
l forgive people who never ask for apologies. I forgive them for the mistakes they never made.
I try to find the answers to the questions never asked.

I feel guilty about the mistakes I never did.
I fight for the wars which haven't started yet.
I yearn for the islands which haven't been discovered so far.
I worship idols who aren't perfect.
I follow the priest who doesn't preach.
I follow the preachings which haven't been taught yet.
I feel the emotions which haven't been named yet.

I miss the love I never had.

how quick i was,
to bite into the forbidden fruit

o temptress, i will always believe you weren't a ruse

because now he's coming out of the shadows,
and like some false prophet your preachings no longer lead me to shore

so now i am looking for a needle in a rather larger pile of needles, aching for more

the forbidden knowledge i've taken, it's not like you've been mistaken

but now i can't find the key to the door

From beyond the infinite nothingness,
to the nothingness buried inside of me

Cast upon the leaves and trees and
darkness that encapsulates this universe like sea

Blooming life revolting gravity and
fugaciously qualifying the test of time

Rustling beasts on terrified streets
going to or coming from their scenes of crime

Evading a revisit to life's lessons
under the weight of experiences

Playing with fire, restrained not by wires,
burning shoots of knowledge, the invincible tree

A puppet to the surroundings and the senses,
boldness and blindness turning men to graves

Quiet witness to the daily murders
while enslaving ourselves to our offspring's existence

From beyond the infinite nothingness,
to the nothingness buried inside of me

I am the result of this explosion,
this heaven is at my call, my feet

All my desires at fulfillment,
all sweet challenges of unsolvable mysteries

Vacuum out there to make more sterile,
this vacuous life that I lead

Thorns of transition,
burst open my silent entitlement

Coalescing my reality with
the all-powerful emptiness

Now I am free from the
clutches of my control

In this fatuous drama,
searching for another insignificant role

EPILOGUE
The role of ancient philosophical teachings
Justifying rapes and murders, through beastly preachings

Once upon a time I was a rebel.
It was not what I chose to call myself;
In my mind I was a fighter –
A fighter for freedom:
A counter-oppressor.
Rebels were the others.

I was nourished
on a code of justice;
a racial attribute
taken with my mother’s milk
and reinforced
by family teachings.

Or preachings.
And it did not take too long
before my back was turned
in self-disgust on
what I termed sermonising.
(They called me a rebel.)

It was not what I chose to call myself.

I found myself within us, after searching far and wide
In all the wrong places, motivated and blindly led by the world and all its teachings,
I found myself within us, all those tears i cried
For all those scary places, that I went to in my journeys through self discovery and preachings,
I found myself within us, and something else inside me died, Recalling all those faces, I thought were a window to my soul I could see
But clear not my vision, for I was only reaching
I found myself within us, and from that brand new tide
Came bryte and shiny places, for me to reveal and stare upon
Of the real me when I came to this world, with blood and fight and breaching

I can’t live without him
The one who brightens my day
And swore to be forever on my team

The one who believes in second chances
And gives unconditional hope

The one who cut the rope
That tied you down
And replaced it with a crown

The one who wipes your tears
When you felt like no one cares

The one who uplifts your spirits
And promises revival
When all you feel is
Broken
Weak
And ready to give up

The one who promises his arrival
If your heart remained true to his word
And not in this awful world

I can’t live without his love
His grace
From all the way above

His teachings
His preachings
And his blessings

For he knows the plans he has for you
He knows what your heart desires the most
Peace
Safety
Acceptance
And Love
Are nothing close
To what he has planned for you
For your life means more to him
Than you can imagine
If only you would open your heart
And love him with a passion

I can’t live without my Lord
My Savior
My world

I can’t live without him
I simply refuse to
And yes
This is another hymn
For my Lord and Savior

My King
My Shepherd
My life
My world
My light

The one who will forever shine bright
Even in the darkest of rooms
Because not even the night
Can darken his might and will
To fight
For you
For me
My King will fight

Fall apart.
As ripped pages,
in the worn book
perched on your shelf.
Begging for mercy.
Pleading,
to be opened.
Unhinged,
the lies pour,
into a bottomless pit,
where mercy is belittled.
You laugh,
because He  
He will salvage you.
The laugh of a scream,
can depict the sanity.

Your sheep,
dear sir,
are follow a flock of knave beings.
Preachings split and unopended wound.
Red,
the whale swallows,
an apple possesses.
The wound is in your mind.
In your heart.
Do you worship a fairytale?

a book titled the comfort book
carries silver-tongued truths disguised as preachings offering some peace.
turns out reading what's already known
is like seeing the result on paper—
having exclaimed, i won't believe unless it's shown.

can i slip in, as a matter of fact,
the moon is suing me for emotional damage
and all the pressure i've brought upon it, forthwith, with immediate effect?

she left a letter this morning while leaving
to hide in her contrary's presence—
a cease and desist nailed to the door of my self.
she claimed i'd stared too long,
longingly enough she’d started to feel bare,
and seen me stark naked as i whispered my dire lies to the night air.
she felt used. perhaps i committed a crime.
so i admitted, and asked for apologies.

except i was sent a summon,
to present myself and the plead-not-guilty note.
the stars—she put as the jury,
the night sky her lawyer,
the sun as the judge—he held fury.

i presented myself, humor disguising my truth,
but when they brought the memories to the witness box,
i knew i was done for—eloquently misjudged and overlooked.

had to take an oath,
but they lied under it even.
promised nothing was wrong.
i saw right through their plotting.

i aimed for the time reversing,
pleading guilty, admitting innocence.
my shadow whispered secrets i haven't lived yet—
and they brought her to cross-examine:
no one else but my imaginary friend.

she was mad.
mad for being forgotten and left.

so i did the next best thing:
tore my skin, let her scavenge through the inside.
she felt for the way my veins pulsed,
and admitted i was right.
speaking the truth, your honor,
i smiled at the moon,
but felt guilty for not seeing it sooner.

the universe had glitched—
whenever i cried, it glitched,
sent down a star to wipe my eyes dry.
in doing so, the stars suffered,
and the moon, without her supporters, lost her glimmer.
she lost her friends, as i lost my own.
and no, she wasn’t angry—
just a bit tensed, for she'd seen what happened to my hope.

the lawsuit resulted in me being freed.
i stood up, walked over, and gave her a tight hug—
the trial of chaos, and of giving life to non-existent hope.

she handed me the book of comfort,
written in white on a black page.
it glistened.
the often misplaced truths hide in the bright.
so accept them as you may—
they could be sour, bitter, expired to taste,
but breathing in the venom is one way to make sure
you don’t repeat the same mistakes.

and so this was my tale,
held in the celestial court.
i missed everything—except that i was forlorn, not too long ago.
i still sit at nights and stare at her,
but this time, she lends her own shoulder.
the stars scribble it down:
surrealism meets emotional rundown.

ominous as though it might seem,
this fits like a verdict-stamped
"not guilty" in my very being.

attach wings to the backs
of me and my brethren
instead of whipping truth
from the cracks of our temple.
the preachings from the center
are supposed to release us
but stakes in our chains
run too deeply . . .

and, here I sit,
locked up in captivity
the prison of my self
it was the truth that kept me down . . .
it is the truth that sets me free . . .

and freedom is key . . .

Look for me, not near you
in the eyes and the moments that flew
dreams, so beautiful and the words that were true

remember me, not when I have gone
imbibe the wisdom I adorn

be good and always be kind
you are my soul, don't let my preachings undermine

fear me, not when you fail
but when the angel succumbs and the devil prevails

cry for my, not when I die
savour my prestige and keep it flying high

manisha

I changed. Sorry. I don't laugh at those jokes now. I changed, sorry. My folders don't have flowers in them, instead band names. I changed, sorry.  My wardrobe is filled with classy clothes that I don't wear. I changed, sorry. Green isn't my favorite color anymore. Black overtook my clothes and shoes. I changed, sorry. I am more open minded. I believe, now, that the world is a not so sweet place. I changed, sorry. My smile brings no comfort anymore. I changed, sorry. I easily get annoyed with preachings and pastors. I changed, sorry. I damage myself instead of damaging my loved ones. I changed, sorry. I don't care anymore.
The ones that don't change are those memories that forcibly replay in my head every minute.
They tell my to leave my past in the past.
But tell me, how can I do that?
How in the world can I forget something that is constantly there?
When I saw you again, my world crushed again.
I didn't expected the feeling of comforting you.
I didn't expected you to hug me.
It hurts!
It hurts to know that everything came down.
It hurts to know that we are strangers with memories.
It hurts to know that I am breaking inside, while you keep rolling with your life.
It hurts to know that you are in pain.
What hurts the most is that I can't be by your side.
What hurts the most is that I am overflowed with internal battles.

You are as you were
No more needing to be said
With eyes that bore tears in joy and sadness
And heart that consistently bled
And mine and your hands locked together
To brave life’s twisted sense of humor
And I knew that, in that, we’d overcome the world

We were never perfect
That’s needing to be heard
Ever present were these jars of truth
Bitter tasting, well preserved
With hands clasped we understood it could not be fathomed
As we locked eyes, yes, words, yes, but never hearts

Maybe that’s the good in it
A gift in cross’ed stars
The reality of a ever present door
That we both know is ajar
The knowing that the hand we hold can build the other up
With the power that so easily can rip us apart

You were the one I’d always wanted
I was the one you leaned upon
With me not knowing what you were
And your faith in your strength long gone
My love for you unending, understated, undeterred
And your love for me one undoubted, but for me undetermined

Each time you speak I hear you
This world’s distraction become blurred
You serve your homemade truths
And I swallow every single word
Can’t decipher lies because I know only what you convey
And in that, you’re the most honest person I know

Our views of each other work
On the level that was stand
Where we get to choose what we convey
As we offer each other a hand
The preachings of the lying tongue and giving of stolen things
An knowledge of the mystery forever kept

Maybe this is not worth the chance
Our self destructive ways
The pure carnage we could leave behind
In our search to escalate
Satan’s aspirations to rise are what led to the fall
So maybe to stay divine, we must stay content

And so we look, we taste, we hear
And we feel that that’s enough
Maybe in leaving the uncertain just that
The relationship is safe from us
Or maybe this is just the lie we earnestly believe
In fear that the rise will be more painful than the fall

Should I lay my head, soaking in a tub covered in white paint
It is how you think I live, pretending to be a saint
I do not ask, but it is my children who must overcome my teachings
But what should I tell them of another man's preachings?

It is the unjust law that should be buried by glorious upheaval
For no law of despots and thieves knows equity, only evil
But thought repressed by those who will not allow others to speak
Is a law of mad men who would not give what it is they seek

In the judgment of those with too much power or nothing to lose
We are either ruled or blamed, but it is they who choose
I would die on the island of my father no matter the depth of peril
For the blood in my veins is not of the anger in your barrel