This new born day I celebrate your souls release from guilt n’ captivity since that day you
felt a carnal touch of sin within as your hands played poetically upon the curves of your dead
lover’s silken skin…
I know now you made your way to the top of the rocks to plant a tree to guard this sacred
place where I fell from thee n’ you repeated the poetic chant of love’s abandoning to follow
me into our karmic destiny…
On that fateful day your soul bled away at the top of this crest by a solitary juvenile tree,
your body of words fell to the rocks at the base of this cliff, embroidered into the blood of
The one who would hold a feather to her face on this crest by the sea n’ remember finally
the days gone by of you n’ me, our deaths from love’s abandoning when you my love were
lost to this world n’ me for ten centuries…
I now await destiny as we will love forever more with immortal hearts…
The ladder backed pecker,
like a prison uniform.
Caught-up in exposing
the truth beneath the bark,
of the poet's apple tree.
We prefer ourself in spring;
with tiny little flowers,
and the fruit of possibility.
Yet, if not for the woodpecker,
tapping holes into poems,
we might not ever see
the flesh and blood of raw meat.
I will climb that ladder back,
escape pre-decreed standards.
Tap into that syrupy mixture
and suck-out truth from hard wood.
Yes, lessons from a jail bird.
A pest in the Avian Kingdom.
Wisdom from the little rebel,
beat-out of a tree.
Your reasoning is childish and idiotic
Your behavior actually is defined as psychotic
How can you act with such a lack of understanding
This level of stupidity is hard to imagine
Believe me when I say it's true
It is not me
It's definitely you
I'm dying in this slow decay of the senses.
Senseless agony consumes my mind.
Eating my soul until I'm gray.
Gray like the leaves at your funeral.
The day the color faded and beauty went away.
The sky is falling,
But, only on me.
As the Heavens are calling,
They tell me to leave.
But don't put your faith, your faith in me.
Don't trust fate,
For nothing is meant to be.
The slow silent squeezing of my petrified soul.
I left my heart with the sugar,
In the bottom of the bowl.
The wounds of the mind,
Based solely on the knife.
Look for my flaws and you'll always find....
Welcome to my life.
Two precious little memories
Two sweet little angels
Watching over me from heaven
Who were not for this earth
Never had the chance to grow
No first step, no first word
Never to know life’s ups and downs
No future to behold
Judgment impaired, mistakes made
No turning back time
Will ever change the course
It has to fallow thru
Rest in peace my babies
God will take care of you
You were to tender
For this rough world
We never had the chance
To know each other
You are in my thoughts
I will see you in heaven
(FOR THOSE WHO CANT SLEEP)
Morpheus you traitor!
Why have you abandoned me?
And Left me to the mercies
Of my destructive mind.
The cruelty of silence,
The constant drip
Of some faraway tap.
This bed of sorrow,
This trap of regret,
and those forgotton voices
That linger within my soul.
Oh please Morpheus!
Won't you lay,
Your cool hand
Upon my brow,
And wash away today.
Green bark a prism creates,
Feel the pull of earth, you must.
Rotates, a slime of endless hates,
Can hold me not, this world’s crust.
Friendship’s ties, isolation Deflates,
Succumbs, my spaceship, to bitter rust.
Mist, my soul forever permeates,
Lift-off, booms the rocket’s thrust.
My spirit when light returns, elates,
Swamps swell, swallowed hope’s swirling dust.
Trapped, I am, until student from fate
Arrives to learn; Cloud City or bust.
Mystery person, you haunt my mind
Which is torture at times,
Mystery person, you're hard to find
But that’s fine, your voice is beautiful like golden chimes.
You can pretend I'm just a creep.
Your beauty is beyond compare
Those lovely eyes say a thousand words
Truth is I think of you before I sleep.
Your beautiful locks of brown hair
They're so beautiful it's absurd
"I shall be telling this with a sigh"
My thoughts they roil like waters dark
in the abyss of blackest night
with memories of mother’s book marks
of Longfellow read by lamp light.
She called in the room around me
the patter of other small feet,
her gentle voice fetched angels
Oh, rhymes how they astounded me
like lullabies soft and so sweet.
All fearsome shadows, she’d dispel
Maxine, my queen read Tennyson
and the Charge of the Light Brigade
a little girl dreamt of caissons
roll and thunderous cannonades.
To be so brave the small child mused
mother’s small, precious, heroine
what would it take to stand so strong
without father, and not confused
What words where the linchpin
to right mother’s tell tale wrong.
Such sad inspiration*.. mother
but a champion you were born.
You’re adored before all others
yet, tears bring memories forlorn.
So, dreams stream on of Mother Goose
three kittens and their mittens.
My visions of your fleeting smile
return almost every night,
and your spirit comforts, lightens
sights, if only for a little while.
Wait for hope, another sunshine,
Screams un opened, ache suppress,
Tears hold in eyes, cry less whine,
Penniless life eked out with depress,
Roving on the way with shoeless feet,
Spent dreadful life in great poverty,
Staring at shop for seeking of Sweet,
Sleep tight in roofless sovereignty,
Playing in downy mud, and quag,
Whether it's a winter or summer scorch,
These innocent child utter no nag,
Pass rest of their journey with single torch,
Being empty pockets and hands,
No mean to them for which they can,
Buy things of choice and colorful bands,
Scenario, the same for all poor clan,
Their life is full of burdensomeness,
Where no calm or rests exist,
Dawn to dusk with onerousness,
Embrace the hurdles, thorns and curvy twist.
Shahid Hussain Chouhdry
wet behind the ears
soldiers screwed beyond their years
displaced from their “Barbies and Babies”
KILL ‘EM ALL!
programmed to forget
about what ifs
SEEK AND DESTROY!
when deployed, "Boy go!"
Erase your youth
now you’re real damn men!
geddem’ G.I. JOE!
the present is your rifle
so don’t blink about the past
enemies are better dead
so spray them AK’s fast
grab the phone and tell your Mom
you’re comin’ home insane (or in a box)
like our boys in Vietnam!
When we felt free
We felt alive
We hugged and kissed
Rejoiced in freedom
Rejoiced and sung
Songs of freedom
As skeptics talked
But he walked on high
And touched the sky
He loved and he gave
The spirit of the brave
He forgave and reconciled
A sad and battered child
He gave us hope
He gave us life
He freed us from our thoughts of strife
He crossed the divide
Of crossword puzzle blocks
And gave us the clues
- We threw down our rocks
But here we are now
Tectonic plates crash on our brow
Where is the hope gone?
Where is the future that we had won?
As we slipped from meritocracy
To simple mediocrity
We look around
And all we found
Was our hopes dashed
Dashed to the ground
Our children suffer, forlorned
Whilst louts with shovels shovel the gold
Of our future that was pawned
For the few our future was sold
And as the fat asses
Roam around in masses
Eating the hay that was made when the sun still shone
Eating the food that the cattle had won
But brayingly they still prance around
Relishing in their new wealth found
As the baby dies hungry and cold
And the baby is buried in hallowed ground
Remember back in ninety-five
When we all felt thrilled –
Remember the victory songs
Of how we would right the wrongs
But now we wrong the right
As for gold and wealth we fuss and fight
And in his cold and lonely grave
As his long road
At his grave
What is this creepy thing
Infecting my body?
Busily digesting my flesh, melting,
The first stages of the blob.
End of my extremities
Swell ominously, wriggling,
Undulating like giant worms
Busily digesting my tissue
I’m becoming what I fear most,
Mistaken for castings
Shoveled up and thrown
On the compost heap.
Institutional reformation inside of this nation
Prisons have risen to the ranks of solicitation
Politicians in formation line up for their vacations
Due to a prisoners isolation
The ideology behind this hypocrisy
Is some kind of demented democracy
And a continuing demagoguery
Oh the humanity
A convicts calamity
Thanks to political insanity
So now we sit around and stare
The truth is that there's no one there
Not a soul found on the street
A passing wave would be a treat
At fifty five
While still alive
A choice was made
And plans were laid
As seniors this was all quite new
Now open to a lucky few
A clubhouse with some gorgeous ground
Surely neighbors would be found
Day and night we'd be so busy
Activities would leave us dizzy
So finally we made the switch
Moved right in without a hitch
We then just took a casual walk
To find someone and start to talk
Yet not a soul was to be found
As we made our stroll around
And soon our hearts were full of dread
Had we found the living dead
So now we simply sit alone
Hoping to just hear the phone
So when it's time to sell your home
And find a place to settle down
Remember just to check it out
Or be the only one in town
There's more to life when you've got cash
Then see your neighbor
Take Out trash
Just breathe in the clarity
Clarity of the whole
Whole or negativity
Negativity eating your soul
Head for tomorrow
Tomorrow always waits
Waits for enlightenment
Enlightenment heals mistakes
You are where you’ve put yourself
Your “SELF” now reminds you of shame
Shame brought on by acting out thoughts
Thoughts a conscious shouldn't retain
Give yourself an apology
An Apology you deserve to have
Have some faith in your timing
Timing bleeds wisdom in man
Bless your self and live righteous
Righteous spirits rise above
Above all if you are kind
Kind souls conquer hate with love
Poetry brings torment to a halt
Halt all your never-ending thoughts
Thoughts are forbidden evil hiding
Hiding light inside divine spots
So please write down your own deep thoughts
Thoughts penned will conquer your inside trap
Trap your life up in your cell all alone
Alone you shall stay smelling your crap~
please don't be offended by the last line~
I felt it was necessary to get my point across~
**This is a special set of poetry written with my friend Justin Connor--we each wrote separate accounts of special companions. The ending verse we wrote together. These poems are meant to be one piece of work. **
Scarcely a year old, I remember with sad, sinking heart
But then I smile, because I remember all the good times
It was the night of Pentecost, our little kitten was found
My mother, happy to bring in the oddest of pets,
Curled her fingers around a small kitten, beaming
And there was sunlight in all eyes all the night
He had been crying in the bushes for a place to stay
And he had found one…it might have been destiny
There was something in his green eyes that dazzled me
Weakening and strengthening my heart all in one I held him in my arms,
A special cat on a special day
Pentecost is his name, and it is here he will remain
I remember everyone loved him because of his grace
That dreamy eye and soft-hearted face
I remember the first night and many more nights to come
I turned my music box, opened it up and sang him a song
He listened intently and soon was fast asleep
His small colorful multi-marked body breathing deeply
His tiny, white boot legs tucked under his chest
“You’re the best, Pentecost,” I whispered. “You’re the best…”
Even my father, who was never fond of cats,
Was won over by his embraceable charms
Pentecost would spawn an effort to make him smile
Stretching out on the floor making sure everyone was watching
Listening lovingly to my dad’s favorite classical repertoire..
He would ring around our ankles with his paws playfully
Causing us to scream in shock and skip away
He would jump back from the shriek making us laugh up a storm
And look up at all the noise curiously
Pentecost also liked small boxes to squeeze into
I would lift up a cardboard flap to see a whiskered jewel
And he would look up at us and wonder
Can we make room for two?
He favored no one and was friendly with all
Long and muscular, this cat had boundless energy
One point he’d be at the window
And the next in the laundry, his tail whipping
What I will never forget was how happy he would lay in the grass
I would watch him and pet him, the sun hitting his fur
Gray black stripes and swirls of art lighting all at once
His soft, sensitive ears rubbing against my arm
The affection was mutual as Destiny knew
the past is a ringing bell
the people... stale sirens
the present feels an uncertain hell
there's no dark shadows to hide in
the lurid unknown awaits vacant and pale
The path to take undecided
the past is a ringing bell, a deafening thought
old friends unfit for this new world i saw
the faces, the talks,the ideologies... all things i've outgrown
I wish broken slumber in the far,foreign,unknown
We'll forget each other easy as the days move swift
I'll quietly make leave so you'll forget I exist
You better be a little rich,
If you choose to make a pitch.
By bus or car you make the trip,
You've trained yourself just not to slip.
The agents sit; a motley crew,
A few may even look at you.
To them it's just the same old hat,
To find some meat stuck in the fat.
The writer wonders what they think,
Is he good or does he stink?
Most go home with little done,
Was this pitch just done for fun?
Change has a way of changing things
Why all this swirl
Of crazy flings
To cause mad twirl.
Strange winds can change the pulse that strings
Why must change break
Moments that cling
Status quo stakes.
Range can describe the stormy flings
Why break good stuff
That stir and sing
Nice fluff that puffs.
04 August 2014
C ells with
A naplastic large cell problems
N eed to be treated - is there a
C ure for what I've got?
E vidently not --
R eally, I'm not that
E ducated on the concept
A nd I don't want to
R ead up on the
I 'd much rather
T hink it's gone
U nknown and undefined -- a
G ame I play with myself, a
L ie I tell myself and
A lright, I
G uess I'll just
A ccept the fact that
I have been given this
N ew life
O pportunity to
W ith the
E xcellent support and
L ove of my friends --
L ife never dies, does it?
At 64 you take a stance,
You'll never get another chance.
The zero option's not a joke,
No sense just waiting for a stroke.
So you let the novel fly,
There's big bucks there
It's worth a try.
You wait too long
It's never read
Stays on your shelf
When you're long dead.
You regret your foolish disclosure, as you confessed to be a cold hearted lover for she was
lost of hope n’ sacrificed herself from this crest for her love for you consumed her totally,
though her broken heart, in the care of the angels choir, now sings reforged in the fires of
You lived your life in the garments of a scar around your heart, covered in bark, thrombosed
to the love of another, it now cries in virtue n’ chastity from the sentient tree that consumed
your ashes n’ dust in the grave at the top of the crest by the sea…
I give to you Poet my blessing, so you can relinquish your guilt n’ pain of love’s abandoning
from the bed of blame you made of your grave, for your quill is at peace till your
homecoming into this world, my sweet poet come back to me…
For time was your crest from this day you have leapt, you are forgiven my love so rise, let
go your purgatory n’ perhaps one day we will meet once again as your soul escapes the
gravity of captivity, now owlish n’ wise let it fly to our destiny…
Though not a word is spoken in these moments of conjuration from a lover long gone in an
age of castles n’ quests by the sea, it stormed all night n’ I remained by your grave side till
sunrise n’ the flame in your eyes became the Immortal’s fire to reforge a tarnished heart,
for your tortured soul now understands n’ through the flames your mind will follow…
Now I see the picture you have painted in the illusion of the rainbow n’ I sense the birth of
humility n’ grace as the sun breaks through the storm clouds, for your poem of remorse
finally rests n’ you my love are reborn with angel wings to ride mother earth’s breath…
On a windswept hill crest by the sea there is a lonely ancient sentient tree that seems so
figuratively familiar to me, I wonder why this can be n’ who my heart longs for when
I’m here n’ why love gives no guarantee…
Though I visit here frequently, today I was summoned, beckoned by the branches of this
solitary tree swaying in the breeze, to this charming yet purgatorial space...
I knelt down upon this strange magical place n' was carried away as my fingers traced an
owl’s feather to my face n’ wondered why I loved n’ despised this fateful place…
My body shivered, internally tingling n’ with grace, some kind of enlightened knowing I could
not erase n' like the sentient tree that cradles you within, I sensed your ethereal embrace…
Silence ends where you begin, I heard the likes of Aeolian sing “Oh my Immortal” n’ your
poetic voice disturbed the chaos in the winds of my mind n’ there within returned the
memory of your handsome androgynous face…
I said… “Come let my hands play upon your skin” n with my thoughts gathering to replay a
scene across time of broken hearts n’ love’s abandoning reflected in the fire of your eyes n’
a touch of a feather upon my face…
I’ll never know your name or how many tears were cried in the oceanic depths of your
pleasure n’ pain, though the salt I can taste in the tempest of this darkening day as the wind
heralds your scent n’ presence unto me…
I’ll never know all who walked hand in hand here before me or where each discarded shell
has been as the seasons flew away, yet I now know why a thousand Halloweens were your
destiny n’ you summoned me to transcend my mortality n’ the meaning of silent words at
play this day…
Our ancient bodies lay together here beyond mortal touch, though in my present existence I
no longer recall our names, they are lost in my many lifetimes yet kept in the Goddess’s
Though no longer you feel my touch or pleasure n’ pain I'll plant a flower as a blessing on
top of our grave, above the waves, where your soul is a slave to this sentient tree cradling
your ashes n’ bones returned to dust…
Impressions and confessions are a dangerous deal, after a slap across the face
and an ice-cold meal. Johnny was a sick little lonely sad boy, his mom pulled his
hair and his dad broke his toys. Johnny would cry and kick and scream, until the
night came to him with a painful, bad dream. His tears evaporated up into his
brain making the light turn to dark and the membrane insane. A complimentary
platter of cannonball dreams, melting the matter to vomit and the vomit to
screams. Johnny did die a painful sad death and his parents showed sorrow
with conveyors of meth. A dove he was in an over looking tree, in search of
nutrition and a place to be. He took all the beatings and rose after each shove,
but why couldn't this child experience some love? Sanity? Insanity? Brothers of
battered and bitter scars, attempt to reconcile through the murky, old stars. A
show has begun amongst razorblade tongues, with gasoline drinks and tunes
over sung. Time is short and the show must continue, so lets tighten our belts
and feast upon sinew. Snow falls and cows turn blue, now if only I was sane this
dream may be true. I question my ability to think and produce, my minds in the
gutter, wrapped in sanity's noose. So lets furnish our glasses up to the rim, for
sanity has lost, since his brother butchered him. Victims’ run the show and savor
purloined blood, while they mimic its flow with a statue of mud. They scream at
the laughter that bellows from their lungs, like the roofing mans calling on a
ladder lacking rungs. It's the victims’ turn for a voice and a say in it all, it's the
victims’ turn for a scream, before they die from the fall. Burning down houses and
stealing rich blood, it's the perps turn to fall into the depths of dense mud.
I ache for your face so close.
I can still smell you.
Taste your breath.
Feel your fate
Entwined with mine.
This time to come our hardest part
Yet we will bear, abide, adhere
For all our sakes.
Guilt aside i shall value
The moment we had
And close my eyes and relive
Over and over.
Until our future says no.
I will cry a thousand years.
Trying to wash away the hurt I feel.
Wearing a mask to conceal.
While I walk amongst all of you
Doing what should be right.
For me there's no tunnel of light.
Just the black,
from my eyes shut tight.
A little is much to much.
Shivering from the touch
That I've longed for all my life.
There's very little you can do.
But, I ask it of you
Light a candle.
Say a prayer.
When you leave,
close the lid on my casket
Yet my soul senses the passion n’ desire of your heart was composed in the language of love
unto lust that I could never poetically impart, still I know the flame burns with pleasure n’
pain for all who find it outside their immortal heart…
I sense the reflected fire of your eyes n’ I wish not to recall the unspoken secrets of your
poetry n’ the names lingering here, romancing the waves caressing rocks n’ the chant of
consumable miseries of mortal hearts to rupture into suicide …
I know how your fingertips awakened her virginity when she was your lover in leisure to the
music of your acclivitous words hypnotising her virtuous seventh heaven of sexual overtures
n’ into the depths of clitorious pleasure…
She was one of many who summoned the angels of ecstasy by the priestess of your tongue
that preferred all inamoratas to be kept at distance for their purpose of use was to be your
poetic muse but she was (heavy sigh) your destiny…
When you dared to indite your desires of others with an empty quill upon her naked flesh
remembering still their scent n’ taste, she flared with jealous rage n’ you were vainglorious
for your lovemaking was illustrious as you celebrated far n’ wide…
In her aroused escapade you wished you had braced yourself for her pain as she summoned
the green demons with covetous wings within her mind, for she would have laid down her life
for you, though you did not understand this treasure was a love that was true…
For she longed to be your only lover though your fingers of rhyme teased a tongue to
rhythmically confess your request to crucify her heart in unrequited love n’ her thighs in a
symphony of continuous casual pleasure…
You declined true love for the endless line of carnal lust with debutantes, bridesmaids n’
dames for perfect in everyway to be with you she must, like your poetry symmetrical n’
consummate, a figure of flawless beauty n’ face..
To compose in repose your words in kisses upon a page of thy lover’s lips, the idealised
immaculate perfect place, her face was scared by a trace yet her beauty of heart within was
a gift given by the goddess’s grace…
She had a long thin line down the side of her face though I know this flaw to be upon your
soul, it never left your body n’ mind as they turned to dust, where perfection once prevailed
yet overbalanced without grace for your heart was forged of carnal lust
Torn from our roots
The chaos ensues.
Broken from family,
The surface unravels.
From this revealed,
A new life emerges.
See the next forms
To sustain a new life.
Make art from chaos.
This is your life.
She's constantly a dreamer,
Fantasy is where she lives,
Reality is non existant to her,
If only she could see.
She only cares about superficial things,
Popularity is her sport,
Boyfriends are the cheerleaders,
If only she could see.
Her mind is put to waste,
A head as empty as a flower pot,
Education is lost on her,
If only she could see.
She makes fun of the "weirdos",
She cannot stand the "geeks",
But those "geeks" are worth knowing,
If only she could see.
The world is 3-D,
It has depth underneath,
There is beauty under the surface,
If only she could see.
Beauty is not just skin deep,
It runss all the way through,
It's not just looks that matter,
It's how you think and see.