Loneliness of night, When extinguishes the lighting eyes, Silence when rules the earth, I listen to the music of anklets, Someone silently comes in, And I listen to a song of love, The poet is still thirsty, The thirsty eyes suck something, The thirsty lips suck something, Tries to deceive restlessness of his soul, The wall clock strikes, You insane, now you should sleep, You may lose your life, Who can teach an insane! He refreshes his wounds with his own cruel nails, Blood leaks and oozes, The veins carry it to the heart, The bird of the heart says, Let it do its work, Let it change into clouds, Let it go to skies, It will rain as a poem!
And with a gust of defeat; the future seems familiar. Has the oneness forgotten about me? The interconnectedness of futile Embellishments followed by straights of garbage, lack-luster trash, soul-less sirens of shit-laced spines, irrelevance, trains without brakes. Exposure, death, the
Strangers from incident, lies for distance, pitfalls of living infrequent, Rushes of sympathy pass over like fever sweat. In concurrent motion the wolves swarm on the lifeless carcass. Impending emotions fill the hole in my stomach, my chest continues to
Of splendid thrones of gold or treasures manifold Of jewelled caskets or lavish banquets Of Emirs and rajahs Of Sultan and Shahs Of kings and queens Of rulers and emperors Of sparkling crowns or flowing gowns Of their subservient stewards
Momma! I am your poem. From that mountain hole Too many pains left And from the island of the vexation A little pleasure on the journey twinkle They made a missiles I was fabricated just below your heart And I am