Sing again

Dawn as simple yea moist muses seep,
Who can resist a sad cure by the dawn?
If they would sing, could it be just
The art, or mine eyes be sunk by sound?
Nay, a window here invites hapsad music!
Tear me in half, may one of me weep,
Tear me apart, till one half shall dance!
Sing, sweet nightingale, invite your chores!
Could it be simply be better than my bore?
Those dainty legs, swing from branch to twig,
What weight you must have to not snap one!
The breeze is cool, yet the air is warm;
Alike are those in thy inviting silk,
Till morning drew its first morning milk,
Nor are the ages gone, till muses write,
Now free! The wings flap. Oh, how I wish!
Till you invite those windows open,
The doors would not open, yet our hearts shall!
Give leave for one more day this blessed night!
The evening strokes, we cheer the silence,
The sound of silence as free your chirping unites,
Till we sound a charm then all pride’s a gain!
That we see, till all pride is well again!

Muse a’morph

Weak and terrible the miserable birth was he,
Cruel. Wicked. Now a sinister time is wrought,
The breath of the crease shines little so near,
A heart pounding, a breath almost taut with naught,
Now the feet shall think twice before stepping near,
He’s running towards the maze, he’s chased away,
The sounds of cello, violin and flute disperse,
The instruments play, but still they essay,
And here, he’s running through hedge accursed,
Though there’s a simple twist in the lion’s roar:

One moment I am a roaring lion charging,
The next I’m a foul beast with heinous thoughts,
The next I’m a squealing rabbit gasping for air,
The next I’m a fish with but the air to curse me!

Aren’t you feeling better how much I turned you?
The wind is changing. I feel my joy overjoyed!
Wait, what shall I turn you from hence now?

My feet grow. My face elongates.
The roses trample, and no thorn would prick me now.

Horse you are. Horse you remain!
Submit, my pet! I am your rider!

Nay! I will not succumb to You,
If bewitched, then bewitch again.
Come near, nascent swine of mute!

So stop where you are. let me have a look.

I urge you reader to turn back. Read no further!
These characters are but silly folk with little eyes!
First I was a man, then a lion, then a beetle.

Then rabbit, and now my very own horse! Haha, come again!

She bites me! Her voracious tastes tickle even my balls!

What use is it? I am the sighted sperm in mingled flame.

Too little to turn,
Too sad to tale,
Now mute are hands,
Now blind my heart,
Near is wrought ghost,
Near is beating steps,
Sweat is first a drink,
Sweat is last my balm.

So, say she retreated. That muse so foul,
Took my baton, turned my orchestra to frogs!
The instruments chased, I was lost.
The audience turned to demons. All the way.
I couldn’t stand. I had to escape.
I never was mad, but now I’m not.
Nuke those thoughts! Reader, breathe.
Five second breath. Like a last.
Now I turn, there’s no one.
But wait! There’s still yet so.

I feel sleepy. It’s been eight years.
My days of conducting a piece are gone.
These days are few, now numbered here,
That is all, when conducting myself done,
The winds will change. Sun shall fall,
The rabbits spawn. Mating crazy and fro!
Well, the art is my deepest darkest wall,
Hidden beneath the maze is realised so.

Ere much is said,
He never wrote,
Nor never led,
Nor never he gloat!

*

So say, Lord on Sky heavens divine,
Say now that I wronged as late,
The sweetest charms of hearts divide,
The leaking tale of one to bait
Mine hour yet lingered in soaking brew
Now creased in ink as dark yea hue,
For tis annulled much more anew,
The uncles and daughters of You,
Now say again my name this low,
In whispers come in echoes fade,
So tremble bad with greater foe
That I too descend in good to bade,
When lake is soil and mud is Earth,
When seas are taught the art of kill,
Since last I have known naught my worth,
Yet in this room of shallow grey still
Do the words yet write themselves more?
Breathing silk till all the air is wrung,
Who knew not my lasting peace is furor,
When all I am is but half of now yea sung.

In a belly: the cat; etc, (so be it)

I’m a pondering mouse walking,
Knowing the floor like mine ears,
How cold and smooth the wooden plaques!
Till noon is come, an hour of cheese nears!
Thankfully my children are darting,

The disco of the world I dance,
The breeze of the run forward,
I am the fur that keeps warm,
The eyes that cast me yond afar,
A fright I have as it is norm
Remains but beauty seen aftward;
All the moves that give me trance.

Here and there, this cat befriend,
Who knew better than fatigued brought,
Who would see that crumbs is my feast,
Alas is the sight this cat I fought,
If fate shall have it I am Godsend.

(So humans utter His name, whomever be)
The art of which I still pity my small
Unfettered ways. Yet I dream so free,
Yet I could not help but wonder all:
Is this truly the life I am to see?
How about, a trip down belly yea fall?

Though cat permit me this entrance new,
Against all instincts I possess now gone,
I am surely within the reaches inside,
The charring flesh of mine still weeps,
My rhyme sorely falters beneath your skin,
Till noon I am is but evening I come,
Now cherish mine eyes sunk in your dew,
I give thee a day’s worth of life
So that you may enjoy my joyous pain,
Till reached of such state you go,
And the road surely does make you go,
Oh yes; the road is long and you depart,
I hear the vibrations; the trembling paws,
So soon you are found. I am right here.
So soon you purr and meow. I hear it now.

Till at last I see myself of all remained,
But don’t fret; for all you do is now,
For all you are is what you eat,
You are now the mouse that dances,
Beloved is thee that my ghost entrusts,
Nor fret and keeps you moving till morn,
So sound a bell nor in fright you care,
Whence all is done and all you sleep and dream,
Ere remember the sun’s coming is new at morrow.

Ellen

At a corner of the stars, like tears…
She was awake in distant a place afar,
And all eyes would be gifted a sight,
And all the walls beckoned she should go,
Then she walks, fast and in ecstasy!
All the walls wrote every second alive,
Every floor imprinted her trailing steps,
All the torches would eschew her name
This name only she saw in sweeter flame
Brings to her raindrops on soaked floor,
“I can see!” And laughter beckoned suit,
Trails of breeze blew walled velvet veils,
And she dwelt in the maze for longer still,
And she continued to run and look round,
Round and round still she looked. Beheld
Herself in all the veils held as she ran,
At long last she reached the centre,
At long last the shallow pool rippled in step,
Wrapped in veils she continues to encircle,
In an inertia of great joy she wraps further,
The walls torn away. The floor detached.
The ceiling now a waterfall with streaking veils,
And Ellen still wraps feet, arms and shoulder!
All round, her sight beheld the beauty kept,
So much was this weight of veil inviting,
Descending below the former maze now empty,
Within an abyss lit by an eye yea large and gold,
Only she could breathe the light in darker waters,
Till all she sees becomes light itself.
There she stayed, here she remained,
Only a hundred years since she awoke,
And a thousand for a veil she equipped,
Whilst she had swum in deepest waters below,
The sound of waves never became her
Whilst all streaks of veil from her floated,
It all seemed like magic, and she lived. Yes;
Now in union with herself, she gazed beyond;
I shall create a star. I am now that star.
The Earth I see, that Earth I shall gaze.

So spoke Ellen, in language of light;
Finest star, and all in gold arose,
There you shall find her in blissful night,
Whenever alone, needing light’s repose.

*

Have you forgotten, the whispers of old,
The echoes so smooth that sound silence,
Now cling the shield of light and glow,
In a single flash the feathers leave,
The horses riding through a field decayed,
And no daisy nor lily would grow in ash,
And all the Earth’s trembling in chaos,
So sooth the mirror on a sky you plant,
So inhale the shards to see ourselves,
So exhale a road long you follow,
In all that one you had, from birth;
Need not despair, the road is lined,
Glistening amidst in view so long,
Whether right or left, trees remain,
Standing tall, they invite your pace.
Walk through them, gently. Esteem.
They are calling your walking,
And you’ll find you have walked
Far from beginning; far from end,
Though keeps you is much walking,
So breathe; and linger no more.

Slings, Jokes, others

Prince, sulk beneath a hooded light,
When I say this joke however mean,
I truly do mean in stronger word,
That we’ll in charms have seen,
A misery a soul equipped to laugh,
Yet he would not in sight bestow;
A joke remains so, unseen, unheard;
Like a key, poking that dark hole,
Poking and turning, nudge and feel;
Resistance borne from persistence none,
He’ll let me in and then joke is none,
How sweet is the irony, the cheers!
Unlock when no lock is nigh;
Unlock.
But, no, sanity is my weakest noun,
Indeed, as you have said, I am most sane.
The most angelic and free, a God-enduring,
I forbid all evil mine eyes cross,
I kiss the cross, the Qur’an, the scrolls!
Throw yourself into a sea of words God
Pronounces so vividly for y’endure!
That storm of pages strikes so wound a chasm,
Now is knowing no more, thinking raptured part,
Tis this irony that I speak of,
Tis comedy till no laugh is sought no more,
Though this we call a world, given birth a reason
Makes devoid of laughter at all things wry,
And still the comedic tale remains!
The stage remains open. The curtains fall, yes;
But the act continues. On the streets, at sea. Well?
So-

Unfortunately, he was sectioned soon after.

On Bees

I give leave, if not wishes in green,
Now are they spoilt, the brown flickers,
As bruised a leaf on drugged field enclose,
Now are their stems and petals it woes,
I then ask, why then are bees yea sicker?
Who then, if not my honey, is but sweet,
That golden sap, not from maple procured,
Delights those round the table come is tea,
How then the comb soaks slow till ere fed
Then excites sense till all ignorance led;
This much whilst yond wall and floor laid,
Lies dormant enslaved, a colony, it wept:
Is pollen then just a pollen to accept?
Why, my senses dull; my wings so numb,
Yet continue my work, like reeling pain,
Till one of mine will drop,
Till more are dropped,
Then I too am a drop
On lidless field,
The pollen call.

1649

Whence charms have glade; mute is shook
A cold stutter was vanquished what may,
In musing freaks and daring lights esteem,
Now jeering spite and feeling cool is lined,
More hours are spent yea few reflected here,
My mirror sunk in rust, frames black as roe,
I spent too much of my time with people,
Only to realise from them I am this far fetched.
So give a word, counsel me here, I am gone,
Now mirror my words and behold half myself,
So shepherd me far, till noon is brought me here,
No sun shall spite my presence till morn is near,
When king is brought my scaffold jesters fear,
Ere the sound is struck my vengeance thaws,
Now enemies alight, a sword was struck by here,
Now feels the might, a cheering crowd is bare,
Whomsoever is cut by me, now is cut upon me,
Worn once a glove in warmth now twice in spite.

My stairs lead me somewhere above,
Now no light is treason to hark,
Forgo my solemn night now morn,
The muted glow is all I suck,
A taste of divine for once I love.

Bring me close; now all I knew is all I dear.

Fool’s Glory

At once a queen was laid atop a king,
Placed so far down the sheets would crawl,
And interrupted he, playing away;
So speak his friend, “when do you finish?”
Thence a jack was laid, beneath his queen;
“Not yet; still there’s more to come.”
And bruised are the moonlike cheeks
Of sported queen. A horny jack, plucked from ace,
And steal a courtier’s eye till all he fades.
Two. Three. Four. As easy five can be,
Ere placed are those in descending figures,
Then calls louder, a friend and foe kept watch,
By door they gathered, by light they hindered;
Now cruel was the lamp beside their guest’s debris
In whose cards adorned. Their king and queen await.
But, P. was no man in interest of free and slaving bits,
Nor could breathe a breath to light the fire,
Nor cheat a jack with cheated queen.
Nor ace the pile till stack compile.
Now breathed from none to pile till one till done,
Who knew then? His friends still watched afar,
The moves. The thoughts. Every move beckons which.
Though slightly disoriented by gaze of card and friend,
He knew not who were truer to worth of his,
That bet he shone, that gold be had. Glory he called.
But then he sunk his teeth in dry-chapped lips,
His arse swollen by excess seating in lonely chair,
Now cheeks command a silent break from silent play,
But would he then? If not so wise, he ought.
Meanwhile the game was finished, and turned was he
He would say, “Look! I’m done!”, but no free is this,
More he wanted, but less he wanted. But more is now.
Yet continues to play till all friends now a pile,
This much they’d bleed from boredom and excess,
Now shat their curses and disdain: off they went.
Leaving only P. alone with cards for glory.
Leaving in the dark was P. for king and queen,
So soon he found no card to place.
No card to move.
And so he sat there, in thought. Alone.
Now casts aside those faulty cards,
But could not rejoin his friends alight.
Having lost both friend and card,
He resigns to drink till sleep is nigh.