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Coffeeholic & Me – by, Farz

To the corner I go

Empty the sachet I know

Beans a brew

I’m on a blue collar high

With the screen

Staring at me all a-glow

Time to unwind

Tea? Not my kind of fancy

An hour to honor

My company

As cup No 3

Sets me free

Commit

I don’t know if it’s goin to be good or bad

My ever ending quest for truth is always

Subpar, subliminal

I am no unsung hero

But thinking about others

Who are standing in a very dark place

Who are going through tough shit

Who look at me pierced with pain

I had no choice and

All there is left to do

Is to throw it all up and

Commit to the page, to A page!

Pic by Jannet Serhan [Pixel]

Artistry

Feed your artistry

And your artistry feeds you

And then you get to do

What you love

You just got it

You got it all

It’s just cool to go off

On your own path

Even if you don’t know

Where it takes you

But when you get

That chance

To do something

– Be vulnerable

– Be open, be true

– Be what you’ve become

Evolving as individuals is an art

And a work of art is all we could ever be

Photo by Adriana Colvo (Pixels)

What bond?…

What?

There was never a bond

It was never there

To begin with

Never did I desperately try to

Create one or gave it much thought

What is a bond to others is

Mainly just a connection

For me that was

Built out of a

Necessity, some guilt,

Anguish and a whole

lot of anger and disrespect

Only to seemingly mean love

Yet never showing it with sincerity

Yes blood is thicker and that’s

A whole other matter so what?

We never bonded

We don’t need to

We never will!

Fluttering

Whether it’s coffee

One cup, two cups or three

Or be it anxiety

Measured by receptors, neurons

All across my body

And lately, perceptions

On issues, real or straight up fantasy

Opinions I make of others

Assumptions and guilt trips

Right up my alley

Trying to pry into what fits, what doesnt

Makes me feel far from present

Makes me more dependent on information equivalent to a starving beast

Makes me lose hope in the system that lets me lose sleep

Makes me crave curiosity and the wondering of uncertainty

All these and more

Keeps the heart fluttering

Bismillah

He grew claws as sharp as
He grew fangs
He had fists as
Hard as he threw them
He smelled the future as
How freedom is perfumed
He had guts so rare as
He glorifies them uniquely true
He learnt and made scores as
How notes and music linger
He played the stage
As a melodic instrument
Of him and you
He was a ‘beast’ as
He mattered cos
He was how a performer
Should
Would
Could
Ever be
He was Mercury

Painting on the Wall

(Poem by Farzleen F. Khan, oil painting by Jean-Fran├žois Millet courtesy of Google Photos)

The work of a creator
Is a reflection of a deep desire
To rejoice in the influencer
On a subject that shapes the matter
‘When born a peasant, die a peasant’
Sounds unremarkable, unsung and repugnant
But feeling great compassion for those
Who work the soil, tending the earth,
Farmers, shearers, gatherers and cultivators
My modest work of ‘art’ – in all form and manner
Is a nostalgic tribute to them who
Started it all with their own bare hands,
With their callused feet
That’s how she (art) and I connect
To learn the disciplines in order to work my craft
No one could offer me a finer example
Than those with nothing, who settled for less, who knew what hardship was
So I knead the desire, to roll with the punches
And throw caution into the wind
For this creation I bring forth to you today
Is a humble way to portray
What those who came before me have left us
An insight to what was once there
And how it is NOW just a mere
Painting On A Wall

Lil’ too late…

Closing in on every line

Losing grip at the touch of the hour

Blank it goes, it won’t flow

Burdened by the clock,

Head gets heavy, I am now a rock

Is it too late to turn

Is it too hard, it burns

Is it too deep to take a dive

Is it too steep to take a plunge

It’s now or never, it’s just doing it,

But doing it better

Lets wreck what seems right

When all we

want is what’s good.

And Good is all we seek…