Incubo ergo Lamentum

Though starts with sleep, ending with none;
I give tale of neither sorrow nor gay a mind,
Hence muses, my mind yea creased enough;
For enough is it that I dwell, and think alone
When more my thoughts become my self,
In points I arrest my soul do dreams declare:
One night, those years ago, remembering so -
The widest wake winked a moon 'neath ground,
Blessed its ravine a drooping glow of white,
By whose softer rain did drew tears down its cheek,
As though fading, in each step a ripple would tear,
Though cool was air and mild an air breathed was I,
Surrounded by none but trees, crying its leaves away,
I saw the rusted oaks and birchs give drooping sap,
If I were an ant, I would surely have a beautiful ending,
But no, I am that I am, and so that is all, stood side a cart,
This girl approached and I asked what matter here:
She answered not, my thoughts gone awry;
This young girl, graced I figure not of the age,
Who was she? Exploited, decieved, I thought,
Extending my hand, I gave it freely, but she would not take,
A few seconds here were hours then; I was beckoned leave,
But no, it shall not be! Hind me was a mansion, I shall enter,
Each creek sunk my heart, each breath paralysed an heart,
If I had any, then I should confront her captor,
But I had all, I hid in a nearby cubicle, shivering and weeping.
Her footsteps could be heard, my heart would crack its glass,
Let its fumes depart from me, let its morphine take me,
If not a heartbreak, so kill me here. Let me die in my sleep!
But no, her opening of the door led me to the gate,
So I thought, but it was not. I could not fathom it,
She transported me from the nether to the whither
Unto which my bed still warm and there lay I as stone,
Still, she was there; her eyes so wide, gowned in white;
A scrutinising stare, still as petrified a rabbit's tail erect,
In this dark room, she was the brightest spectre unseen,
These past few hours have brought me here to this:
Cannot move; cannot speak; cannot tilt my head; nothing.
I could only groan, I can only breathe and stare,
After minutes of visual discourse, she walked slow,
Walked to the door, and still looking at me, waved,
Grabbing my door, slowly departed. I waved back.
Her leaving gave me back my senses, my voice, etc.
Well, muses come forth, and this they did,
Walking round my bed and into my wardrobe (and fro)
They walked, and they walked slow, walking round,
The spectres and the horned-beast would approach,
Breathe their stale breaths into me and kiss my cheek,
My drooping head would tear, a heart now beating slower
Could cherish a moment's rest, asking for respite, asking:
"Why do you do this to me? What fright! What is it with you?"
I am the flame, I am the creased soul whose gaps invite all,
Let them change me, let them mould me for dark or light,
But I am afraid, like in my childhood being guided away,
I have been haunted, and now even muses walk away.
Trees would not be bristling, nor sap for my sight beheld,
Though looking back, all these years, in just a few hours dream,
No sleep could give me, nor dream bestow such a memory,
That God hath sought in me to deliver my concept purposed.

Scherezade’s plea

If my hijab is no service to you, let mine eyes:
Lend an eye oh beckon forth a silly tone,
Grease a sorrow so breathe a light yet asound,
Sing alight a bird flew hard yet sully way,
Mute the lark that casts its tone,
Breathe it hard, the flaps ere conjured way;
Mine art so sunken stone - 'tis magma broke,
My soup is thought. Grill my words, heart dismay,
Breathe a sigh and sing more the ages past,
My words conjured few, bring pill on table near,
Tabled near, whilst weavers and smithers hack,
Could not hear words that ought be lack,
But, showing you stories these are much thought,
I share a wonder, the brightest pearl on smallest shell,
The brightest moon on the darkest black,
How soon I watch you sleep till Earth around
Is my glory come till mounted steed in poles along,
The snow and moon so white and cold,
Give me leave my stories bridge ye come afar,
Spare my life here, near to heaven I bestow thee,
I am no gypsy preyed, nor a Muslim prayed
I am sung of no mystery come, no sinners bought,
The art I muster and thrice I thought God in thee,
Then that might pole slapped itself upon my cheek
Gave more proof my story ought to lay,
So enter me the gates of tale, breathe the arch of hearth,
These are the stories more I tell,
In Earth and moon they watch, so too I watch an eye,
This I bring to you, More I come this ought to be.


Even whilst the clouds fly their way,
Whilst the wind kept brushing past,
Nor did the mills cease their work,
Nor did the wood dislodge, break;
More the finest fibre within, taut;
Its breathing and illumined glow,
You can feel its light tremble slow,
But no more was it cast aside gone,
Always lit, but no spark stained light,
Better lone, lest light eclipses dark.
Then the wind shall blow its fibres loose,
Glow in the dark, each drop of rain fall:
Colour each fibre and see them wave,
Write your name, the wind commands,
Beneath the cliff is that name you know,
As we descend through the name,
Then its core shall be sought then held,
That core remaining star glimmers dim,
By whose shell and label remains unphased,
Not even weather shall dim it further,
We shall feed it adventure and enlighten it,
Not once faltering on the love we give,
Even if not to take, yet still light's given;
So once even the Sun can see it,
At least each cloud can reflect your rays.


Whereas people walk, they talk as well;
Their flight of birds above shows it well,
But I am neither man nor bird to move,
These are the wind turbines we speak of,
Not a man, not a bird. A sort of object.
One we can see, if not hear when near;
The turbines move when the wind glides,
I am just like one of those wind turbines,
Moving round and round to no end at all,
I let people pass me by to no end at all,
I let the birds fly past, not even to care.
I catch no one on my turbines through,
The one thing I harvest is the energy.
We are the energy that makes man talk,
The energy... that makes birds in flight.
We're moving away, but I am planted still.
Not to grow, nor to walk, nor to complain.
I am the turbine that moves round,
Till no one is energised.


Wet my dead cheeks
Weep mine ears
Faintest sound hear:
Err mine eyes
Till morning blood
Curse my crown.
And when I’m fraught,
Farewell kiss,
Blush at the fog,
No wind near
But this cool air breathe,
Till ere brought
Are steps near to me.

Let me walk,
So mem’ry call,
That all known
Is now anew.

So round a new,
Till morn bright,
Nor cast aside
Simple smile,
Then breathe again
This new light.


A splash of water was all it took,
The taste of sea on ripe lips,
Whose entrance guarded bitter words,
Then spoken, and breathed, once more.
For in his heart tis freedom all he knew,
In past lives he fought to seek beyond,
The mind itself, so closed again
And then could not see what past he had.
It mattered then, the coke and wine,
And the wanks and chats: buried in soil.
He would hoist his sails now tainted glow,
Nor treat his wood as he would guard a mast,
Now miles away, yet still a light feigns past,
Mused are the ones he thought so gay,
Now cherished in light yet so far apart,
And every night he’d encircle that simple stone,
Cursing every moment this much too fast;
A simple past since is long too gone.
And the waves shall flood his ship,
And the light shall strike the sails,
And the mast shall burn to ash,
The helm detached and lost at sea,
When all his food is rot and waste,
And all his heart is ash with spite
Whilst his mind angers him,
Whence he would anger more.
But the lighthouse still shines,
Each lense shall shoot a thousand stars,
When none can see, that the lighthouse sees.
There, he can see. He knows his way.
There, a torn ship and a wretched sail,
There was still a wretched man afloat.
Then brought back to shore as its guest,
The lighthouse continued its lightward song
Whilst the man continued leaving it all behind.


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.

Seeking you

Every star, a story untold,
Hermes sought a light now gone,
Limp is he, but whose stand is fraught,
As breeched his air now casts a dew,
Breathe a light so my life is so!
Rumi, give me the darkest depths of light,
Hafez, alight mine eyes on God’s dark iris’,
A Milton speaks here, so give Maker my life
In Ire, nor ere more greater words we wrote.
Shakespeare chant, and now is being non-being,
Negative as I seem, nor cynical as I optimise,
Seal my trust of breath this happiness lasts,
I seek the dark, so do You. Reader, seek, seek!
Money and charm, fame and breadth the world deny,
From Kilimanjaro, Everest. Oh, Chimborazo! Deny!
Now I see a moon, a star, more stars, a dark.
A past I forsook, even Cleopatra is her snake relayed.

Bring all venom from whose deny,
Give breadth mine art this solo,
Breath the wine that breathes a lie,
I play the tune that fills with sorrow,
Oh, it is now my crease from whose awry,
Now sings songs of hapless woe backward.


Born in the arms of nothing,
Foots a way that yond dismay,
I’m a kissing feeling known,
But no, not right these days;
Am paralysed by words of word,
Now I’m walking away to yond,
The tank can’t hold more brew,
Now the water this warm is hue:
A rain that I may soak and bathe,
Ere smoked is the air this mute,
Now shook my feet for quake aghast,
Who drags me down so all roads a cliff?
But I know not mine eyes wander,
When I look to the singing naught,
And all I see is yond be ought,
If I would eat till I breathe less,
Till I drink so I eat much less,
Till I eat much less since I lived,
Now cool is the air that speaks,
How true is the still life so beau?
Whilst I look round, here we are;
In the mesh of half myself and dawn,
When it comes another day, am I gone?
Nay, tis mine half who walks here,
The nothing that I am breathes here,
All along, and now he walks to You.