Clowns

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Random art sits by a window
Incent-burnt sandalwood fills a room
Vintage posters cover peeling paint
Still is the hour, minutes rancid gloom
Books of harems, devilished nights
Archaic beasts atoned in frames
Spirits of the darkness licking walls
All shall burn and rot in flames
A padestal of stones awashed
Laces and linen gobbling ink spills
Decors of dust hide tapestries of lust
Candles leaving dead wicker chills
This world has pure evil
It lurks in every town
They’re not always devils
At times they pose as clowns

Caffeinator?

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Whether it’s Brazilian,
Euthopian or an Arabica brew
My love for them grows
After an espresso or two

French Vanilla is an acquired taste
Robusta grows old hits bittersweet
The green latte hates my palate
A connoisseur I spot, a barista I seek

I hate percolators
Who needs all that stress?
It’s a straight up method
Instant does it, no fuss no mess

On Americano I live
8 cups in, absurd!
Serve me a Mocha…
Get out or get hurt

The line between a cafe and a shop
Is usually in the coffee itself
Strong or weak; feeds an addiction
In my case, all beans help

In very simple terms
I don’t do coffee pairings
I just need my To Go confirm
In detailing I find derailing

All I know that all coffees
With pastries they pair well
Am I a CAFFEINATOR?
Oh, I’m sure by now you can tell.

LuckyCharm

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Hey everyone, meet Lucky…
And her horse named Charm
He lived with her since the derby
They had a bond no one can harm
One day in May, Lucky fell ill
It made Charm frail and sad
No cure she had, for it would kill
Charm was refusing to be fed
Til’ one wet evening in June
On a bed of hay drifting away
Charm bade the night a full moon
Loomed Lucky wallowed to pray
Lucky knew what Charm wanted all along
He needed her to saddle up and ride
The only thing that kept them strong
Was when they rode to win with pride
This story began with a lonely end
Things don’t always pan out as planned
What truly matters is what happens in between
For Lucky, it was Charm. All they did was live a dream.

.

Footprints

Photo by Farzleen F. Khan

When I think about the meaning of destiny
I imagined what that would be for me
Reflecting on my devotion to spirituality
Like a devout seeker of good when all’s murky.

When I look up at skies spread wide and high
I realized what made me wasn’t some big lie
With my head screwed on right, heart not shy
I lay low, hands to my chest, I burst out a cry –

“Release me! For I have found spirituality from within.
And this is destined to keep my mind & body in-sync.”

Mucho mucho amor

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Speaking so eloquently
Exotic music playing
In the background
Screens a-shine with so
Much love and a
Likeability profound
He was their daily God
He made a difference to
Many a-homebound
He emerged amongst
Lives on foodstamps
A society thriving on
Mere hopes and dreams
A future which seemed
far-fetched, yet
Amongst their
Old belongings
In front of crushed and
Sombre beings
He perched
He dwelled on a
Retrospect
That everyone should
Be their own guests
Starring in their own
Self-made, inherited
Cocooned nests
Then, as if
being born in 1932
Wasn’t enough
Being poor
Made him tough
Few good years later
At the peak of fame
All that became a wonder
Did the world of
Calendrical systems
A pseudoscience of
Celestial objects intertwine
Made him a shrine?…
Once before bedazzled –
Mercado, the tender-hearted
Embellished by beaded necklaces
Garbed in sequined duds
Now remain heir to
A satellite creation
Of his own explanatory power

Classic

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I write to understand me. I write not to just improve or better my craft. I write to experience the peaks and pits of a new found land.

I write to give meaning to my passion for my creation and what have I. The spark to continue creating not always perfect work should first and foremost astound me.

When I believe in what I write only then can I write for others so that they can believe in me.

Manuscript

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Rising beyond a purpose
Peeling layers within layers
Reflecting on an outpour is
A process in
Releasing this
Journey of me
Evolving as
A person.
And, it all comes down to the
Man-u-script.

Kingdom Come

Photo by Farzleen F. Khan

He knew there was light
Whichever way it shone
He shall not bear another’s burden
No longer will he go astray
What he longed for is set on paths;
Footsteps acrosss a kingdom of repent
A source of guidance too sacred – to last till his days were numbered.

Myth

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Hardly reaching any common ground
It’s not just pulling a ripcord while it’s there
No one liquidates the truth on a whim
Making sure that there is a why
And then leaving it all to a lie?!…
Who made Slander the Greater Good?

Padded Cell

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How is she?
A: Unconsciously fine…

Is she broken?
A: Ruined made her…

Why let chaos rule?
A: One thing she was good at…

Was it detest, she felt?
A: Our guess – she was resented…

Ok now…

How many shots?
A: All but one, straight to the heart.

Q: She safe now?
A: Safe as she could’ve been…
And while she loved many a twilights
She is now sheathed in metallic chains
Awaiting to be tucked away cold
In a padded cell
Somewhere only we can’t tell…

Empathy

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Empathy is
A way of
Inhibiting a world
Different that
Our own
It’s personifying
What we can’t separate
Or condone
It’s a basic need
To understand
And comprehend
It’s for us to band amongst
Brothers and sisters
Allowing us to reach out to others
It’s a journey of becoming
When failure calls for recreating
It’s this seeing of
Different worlds
Through words written or uttered
Making empathy heard
It’s authoring a
Movement to lean in
Opening us up to emotions
Giving others a
Temporary asylum, refuge
It’s how creators create and
Pierce the consciousness
And if they are stopped
We are in danger
of the same or
All ends in blame and shame
With empathy, we should not
Delete, Cancel,
Pause, Dismiss or
Silence anyone.

Huntress Moon

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I had a dream about you
You took my hand
Squeezed it tight
Like you always do
I said I wanted to be
the bigger person
Wanted to give you
A reason, an explanation
But in my gut I felt torn
I gave us some space
A place, a reborn
For u, for me
But that wasn’t the case
You left too soon
Left without my embrace
Now I trace the lines back
To where it all started
It was bitter and sweet
Like dark chocs and popsicles
Gave us cavities, endless giggles
Our cuppas side by side
We took plenty a car ride
Now the clock changes its hands
Forgiveness was all it needed
But then I get why, so I forget
Now it has left me gutted.

My Huntress Moon, my dearly beloved,
You are truly missed but remembered.
And until we meet again, at this chance,
I know that what we had will always be treasured.

(ALFATIHAH dear friend – 29 June 2020)