Best Writings Poems
A dream, in incubus it came to me
Like ink on paper it showed so bright
Contrasting life and death, day and night
Brought with the last tear shed
Screaming those bloody words
"It won't work, you'll get hurt again"
The fragile clishe i broke again
Painting my nails black with bruises
To prove that it's all for hope and love
But once again I beat the system
To be whole once more I let her in
Melting in the eyes of beauty and sin
Quivering with every move she made
And living one breath at a time
To anxiouosly await the next meet
Of our eyes and hands for moments coming
they said
where there is beauty
there is impressive poetry!
nature in the truth,
in the pen and paper
honest birth of beauty
the path has no end
the author walks to that endless
true poetic pen
can show a miracle!
care, bear up the word
in thy heart
one day God will meet
God, the reward of saintly
doing , writings and preaching
someone writes deeply
someone writes slightly
someone reads deeply
someone reads slightly
someone gets the real meaning
someone does not get the real meaning
but poetry is poetry
on its foundation of poetic thought!
-December 11, 2019 Chattogram
The writings on my wall
Will yield to your downfall
The physical writings on my wall
You removed without my permission
The writings on my wall
Made you mad because you know
I had way more than you had
The writings on the way
Were suspended in the air
The writings on the wall
Showed yourself and the world
That you were unjust and unfair
The writings on my wall
Proved that I actually belonged there
And you did not.
The writings on my wall
Showed that I gave my all
The writings on my wall
Is pure predicition and pure prophesy
That this is end for you
And the just the beginning for me
Yes indeed dude you are crude and rude
And have an awful attiude
The writings on my wall
Is pure truth and that you
Were afraid to give credit
Where credit is due.
The writings on my wall
Marks the fall of the beast
And that boisterous beast
Is no one but you.
Writings on my wall
Fall
Fall
Fall from grace
Because before all mankind
You are the ultimate disgrace.
Writings on my wall
You read them
And you recieve nothing but
Hell from them from this day forward
Writings on my wall
Is the goal that you should look toward.
The writings on my wall
Will yield this product from
You which is fall beast fall.
8-10-11
cpyright 2011-All rights reserved.
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Sketches of coal, burning pitch black
enigmas emanate from each mark;
Foll’wing trails on, getting back on track,
laid and torn ‘part, lone in the dark.
Graffiti of different crime,
something that you cannot define.
Each occurrence does not, at all, rhyme
like the foul curse which to you binds,
another day, another night,
all endless to a silent whisper
and a muted scream taking a bite
little by little, it's getting closer.
In the last hour, desperation,
do you dare speak of the impossible,
pouring out what’s based on emotion
within the writings on the wall?
I am not ready to die mediocre
I bargained my soul with the devil
to roll the dice of life again in October
they said my heart must be tainted by evil.
the bar raised low, to fake a smile on my face
to liberate myself from the pain and to sing along
to follow the god who barely cares to show his grace
believed in fate for long floating in the cloud 9s, so long.
Tired of the chorus it is hard to focus in all this hocus pocus
I have had it running on the side walks for 27 years in solitude
aggression in expression among my rhymes venting in tiny doses
8 miles of my worthless writings is an add-on to my egoistic attitude.
>>1111>>MY WRITINGS GARMENTS<<1111<<
Wo! Unto the man who stands
And asserts that my writing intends,
To relate only commonplace things,
And secular narratives,
It’s not even relative,
For if it were so,
You would want to know,
That in the present times,
Yeah I’m telling you this within a rhyme as I’m sitting,
Likewise a writing might be written as I’m living,
And given with more attractive narratives.
Now I’m sick of all the arguments,
The narratives of my writings are its garments,
Come on readers I want to hear your comments!
Cause he who thinks these garments are the writing itself,
Doesn’t have true wealth and needs some,
They need to run and deserve to perish because they are dumb,
And have no share in the world to come.
Wo! unto the fools who look no further when they see an elegant robe!
Stagnant, mentally unfit to find answers across the globe, dimwit!
More valuable than the garment is the body which carries it,
Take note to the following, I recommend wisdom to everybody,
More valuable even than that is the soul which animates the body,
Cause fools only see the garments of my writings,
The more intelligent see the body, it’s more enticing,
Get with my writings, inviting anybody and all,
The wise see the soul, and take it personal,
And go on seeing its proper being, on a higher level,
In this current time we have been dealt,
The “Upper Soul” of my writings will stand revealed and felt.
These words are not mine and don’t dwell as a belief system in my mind,
This allegorical narrative is knowledge intertwined,
With tricks and how to learn to be quick,
Mentored by enlightened Semitic Jewish mystics,
You’re unintelligent, always quit, internally sick,
You’re wanting the mindset of being awake and conscious,
But you can’t reach what you’re after, its above you and afar,
Because you don’t have basic knowledge of the Zohar.
In the land where pyramids rise
An ancient language grew
Pictures were words in disguise
No letters for a clue
These picture and symbols were known as hieroglyphs
They were written on the walls
And it took quite a while
To decode these ancient scrawls
When hieroglyphs meet holograms
It's an illusion you will see
They will seem to float in the air
And it's an image in 3D
Holograms can be computer generated
To show any scene you please
Even scenes that don't exist
Can be created with these
----
4/22/16
Oh! Do see and behold
Of mother and womb
The writings on the wall
Crouching about the world so high
Their presence you can't deny
Hallelujah,
hallelujah,
hallelujah...
Hallelujah
Is Your faith draining now?
As doubt begins to wain
The writings on the wall
Lovingly, you carass his hand
And usher him into silence
Hallelujah,
hallelujah,
hallelujah...
Hallelujah
Many hands, worthless maids
Greater casualties of war
The writings on the wall
Life begins to fade, oh dear child of God
your eyes have lost their light
Hallelujah,
hallelujah,
my hallelujah...
Hallelujah
Angst of shallow ,lonely breathes
Tears that scar my hide
The writings on the wall
Candle-slacken voice, light has faded
My hallelujah,
hallelujah,
my hallelujah,
Hallelujah
The writings on the wall
Poverty of war, cost was my one inheritance
Searing, blisters of pain
Hallelujah
Emptied-out in a crowd
Chanters of my dispair
My hallelujah,
my hallelujah,
oh hallelujah,
my hallelujah
Oh Hallelujah!
Oh Hallelujah!
Oh Hallelujah!
Oh Hallelujah!
2016/04/26:
Song: Hallelujah
Picture: #1
Cliche: The writings on the wall
Words were not enough to explain the ancient stories that came before,
Beyond the slightest imagination of what took place during times of mixed truths,
Written by those who were lucky to read and write.
Decided before time seemed to matter,
belonged a vague cave illustration about right and wrong.
Lost in-between translations
from Egyptians to jews,
paintings within the cave only there to amuse.
In hidden language between the lines that rise the whole truth.
The pyramids built on the labor of slaves,
proves hard work and sacrifice shall forever remain.
Writings on the wall from tombs to public bathrooms,
proves most opinions expressed is nonsense that's not true
Bazaar
The nights’ chest opens up -
strings of illusions
rattle in palms
the knowing buyers haggle
for a dream
while the fascinated women
try on
toles of princesses or odalisques.
In the shell of hope
genuine perls are priceless.
Silk labyrinth
of amber and incense,
amulets of shamans hidden in death,
a mirage in golden cases,
the drug of success
paths and passions
unknown potions
scaffold question.
Merchants with epheb faces
skillfully spin shadows,
scarves, dependences, embroideries,
compasses, elders, rings, sapphires,
open
conspicuous roads.
Rubys, gold,
sealed fates
days delirium
forgotten writings
bracelets and silver girdles,
old things,
new objects
disturb the untold air.
The world’s cornice
crunches upon the stalls
heavy stars
cramped into bags
shriek
with undecipherable voices.
Thousands of dead and living worlds
rise to the skies
from eyes
touched by temptation.
Let's do this for eternity
My heart cries
Her selflessness embrace my happy soul
Every minute with her adorns my heart
My love for her is never-ending
I love her to wrestle a star from Andromeda Galaxy
Her abysmal of love is ineffable
My world orbit around her
Emitting the lights like the sun that brightens my day
My happiness is deeply rooted in her smile
So fertile till my love grew roots beneath her love
I smile hearing the dulcet tone of her voice
My heart whispers to me
How did she love you when you couldn't love yourself?
Hear me now
These echt words crawls from the seamless walls of my heart
They're lucky to flourish on a piece of paper
But I'll be unlucky if your heart don't favor the poetry my heart writes
I am Chikwelas grand daughter,
Am I a good writer?
My poems are they better?
Like other my fellow porter?
When studying at St. Peter,
Reading one poem of poeter,
I like to become writer,
Magazine shows me other poeter.
Kazima I was a sister,
My writings were not greater,
I could not reach meter,
I stop being a create.
New student when she inter,
She was having a supporter,
Her first submission were sweeter,
Her works were in printer.
She works up me latter,
After I have got newslater,
Dew to her good poster,
I become again a writer
A lone wolf rising in ashes of ancient writings planting her crop. Forged in blood, salty sweat, and ink some say related to iron ore rock. Some tried modeling this wolf but her keen sense kept a dreaded clock. A world can only hold one mold. Tick, Tock, Tick, Tock
Bloody lips on ivory skin. Flames trailing behind those freezing fingertips. Eyes like black holes and the Universe they suck you in.
You call this love? Or cataclysm?
Unholy, dirty mouth and the taste of Heaven. We feel like flying as we lay together on our ripped wings and feathers. Halos tight around our throats, we live on passion and lust.
Sweetheart, what we have done is the worst.
Flesh and bones carved by the Gods, we're so hollow under the cracks. Words wrapped in thorns, delicious honey on our tongues. This Paradise, nothing but the fruit of our insanity.
Oh darling, we fell in love with the tragedy.
Writings of a storm cold
The house gently
Creaks
From icy winds pressing against
Exteriors whilst slipping
Through
Small inconsistencies.
Sleet dances against window panes.
Piling glass against glass,
Particulates of infinite possibilities.
Fractals dancing down,
Tap dancing on rooftops.
I sit at kitchen table,
Bundled from the cold.
My only friend and partner, a
Dancing flame from candle
Casting shadows upon the walls.
Words scratching valleys and
Mountains across vast white expanse.
Scratching eloquence..
Moving still.
Plumes of billowy
exhale
surround my head
Like a haloed angel.
Tonalities of gray, from white to
A Dark and shadowy blackness.
Reaching out,
Ever growing,
Like the reach of sea creatures lost beneath vast depths.
Here I sit,
Staged against the cold.
A storm of ice,
From liquids fallen from skies with stories
Told.
I am their conductor.
Dance for me of wind,
Whisper in mine ear.
Settle still o house of moaning temperance
Against a northernly wind.
All the while my quill to
Parchment
Sliding out visions painted by verbiage.