There are words in these rhymes long, They are long, but still as stars in night, No. I have not consumed the drug of youth. I have sicked myself cloy of the grace, That even the greatest Zeus became ash, Where his mount became His Mount. I speak of the stars, then of the breeze, It is we who are tested and sought depraved, But are we not depraved, if so then prove: My grief is that 'tis not the grief despaired, But I am beyond all that can ever be repaired, I breathe twice so I can smell thrice through stars, But when alone, my aching thoughts are one depart. I said two verses, but actually tis three, These are the words;- they spill free: Now sober the art is rank with white, My soul is cast but you know what fight, When the carrier of dust dispels your storm At which point a reason comes to sing thy form.
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.
My day is measured as thus:
Twelve hours of awakening,
Four hours then of enlightening,
Eight hours reflecting (slumber),
But hope has it a goat appear,
And deliver solemn words aghast:
These angels past, the devils fart,
And so my word is mute on flute,
And were it not my song so loud,
Then the tale of God can never pass,
Within sanctum of my being,
The second of my beating,
Lays a wreath adorned by thorns,
In every thought pricks the heart.
That sanctum is my religion;
That being is my philosophy.
I am the cloud that holds the sky,
The sky that holds the rain,
The rain that eschews a drop;
Whose drop becomes your drop,
Whose drop is flavour of mine,
Could never tell what flavour thine,
But know my flavour salt and sweet
Is never but royal yet tastes divine:
I hold a secret at whose core is teem,
This drop I add to the basin below,
This basin below I call the world,
Filled with more drops to follow.
I speak of others deliverance unfurled,
Yet yelled beneath their chins was led,
And cried in earnest how far they fed,
Of all songs heard and books they read,
Who could never look above stars to see
Ere question the depth of being they lead.
I am come from nothing of being swayed,
Tricked by echoes of peace and ought,
Then persuaded by soothest song abide;
Whose melody even God’s cheek would shine,
In whose rhythm even Saturn may wallow.
At the silent close of darkest state,
An only child would walk a path alone,
Whose parents never were, nor would feel,
At heaven’s disclose, least they’ll hear:
So my dearest so utter that single rain,
Then make my peace at hearth be made,
Whatever age, nor strength and wisdom fade
Shall you always be child, my sweet of mine,
Give leave whilst you sing a drop in here,
Of all colours and smell, taste and depth;
Some shall sink lower to the floor till naught,
Some shall float till light perish their woe,
But yours, yours shall sink with what you feel.
Focus on what life given that precious gift,
Then the path may follow, and all shall open;
What policy you have for what governs the basin,
That cry for what basin walls be painted then,
And so change the basin all you want tenfold,
In a hundred, a thousand, or even a million,
Shall never change that for which it holds:
So make your drop the lasting drop in life.
Look below, and care not the basin walls around,
Let that drop you eschew in the basin of water,
That sweet and soothing drop shall mix with mine,
With each hand yea wet, it glows with fire beheld,
All water under the eyes of He and He alone
So when time allows for the basin ought be drunk,
So may this one outshine all others he bades,
At whose entrance shall you be at one with Him.
She didn’t know what brought her
Through yard upon yard she walked,
Distant slopes called all to bear
That echo of all waves they tucked,
That calm and smooth sound forgone,
Not long before a city swept it gone,
Till more was new than weeping song,
In dearest pride she is barely done.
And in the steps she carries weight,
These steps that carry this too far,
In lieu of such glistening hand to fate,
Now begins one reality from old to bar,
But waves continue, no fire perish,
And the sun still shines even unseen,
Beneath which solely stood was she,
Nor could she on sun’s rays lean,
Could scarcely spot a cracked sky,
In the midst of storm, in the breadth of dark,
She seeks the light; Seek the light,
God is the light.
An echo follows a shadow unbecoming
Whose daring eyes need not fall behind,
Now is the time a foot walks ahead another,
Meagre means of meaning mused for muted music
Cast, oh cast despair whose cross is crossed.
Glory to the Silent of all Silent God witness,
Now spare a bread and all water for wine shared,
‘Tis all but wrought, alack whose beliefs waned,
Hence baptised from young now dreams an angel death,
Grieves not his passing tale of woe and lone breath,
In the abyss of vacuum fair, a spell if shone Hearth
The kick of soul from Jupiter sought. Is He Sought?
So forgive his past, forgive all happened, give pill;
Echo away, these chants of woe and will so sing delay,
An arch of faith so present his rosary is just anew,
No pope to chant, nor boy to sing, nor man to mourn.
Here’s the whisper of heart, the shout of man:
A blind man now is sorely from birth in ought believe.
In the light of shadow, nor Earth can cast a shadow,
A man lay there, in hourly breath, his heart is now.
Rain on me a delectable taste of God divine,
Pray there the Cube upon which the banner holds,
Like flames engulfing the light then new; resign.
A leaping faith to mine in words of rich and old,
An art so thick these words are ecstatic and loud,
My grief is wrought for a sign that He listens near,
So when I’m here alone may I be never lone in sound,
Now night is summoned, give word for once mine ear,
To drink each word with single gulp my throat to swell
Shall give me leave in names of He I thus recite,
For each breath becomes pause in time to dwell
Whilst the Earth is sunk through He ne not in sight.
Listen, the sound of sweet lulling kiss,
In murmuring bay is cast aside a hiss,
Speaks of wisdom and all dark days late,
New Muse in the distant shadow ye hate,
Believe me here when all I say is true
And so slap me twice for hatred through,
Is here but now the art of war in mind,
Known here are keys to write life behind,
How prosaic are the mosaic stars idyllic,
A cool known breeze blows tears so thick.
I cannot sing the air to be so want of it,
Now drops of water in a distant are lit,
A path ye shown ere breaks the heart,
The words it keeps are the ones at heart,
Do you sometimes regret meeting at first?
Do flow’rs bloom when two clouds quench thirst?
And all is awash with silent tears to drown,
A sinking heart to dwell in mind to frown.
And the night;- closes around me,
The silence is but blessing in me,
A curse is love but so is blessed,
A God oft I knew no more to test,
A larking spree in hell’s match,
A heaven known in meagre patch,
So burn me and love is all but lost,
So churn my blood till all is tossed.
Morn for all no more, oh Lord;
On fall or torn but bored
What woe on all ere dawn
For lost on ground to mourn.
And sat was fair ground halt,
‘Tis time that flows like salt,
‘Tis time alone to make best,
In this world, at all fest.
I walk the world in heart,
I sing the echoes in hearth,
In the bliss of day bind
Mine heart in you to find.
Now enter a built entrance,
When Eve was in a trance
She could never believe
The words I ought to weave.
For You have always been,
Oh Lord, our mercy seen
Your bulk of beauty known,
Your sulk is mine beknown.
Don’t let it get to you, dear;
It is but only fear;
Let the past swim by you fair
These memories gone to taste,
Soon shall fade into the dark.