Enclosed But Not Within

So scream me now, this trickery of incarnated soul abuse of the majesty of darkness
Scream stronger so that the unworldly beasts would know of my coming forth by night
Stalking the shadows for a hope of redemption that has since turned sour or rancid at best
On behest of the Higher Power in us all, atheists and agnostics notwithstanding, cheeky but nice

Trust not the power when all the dark faces turned gold from whatever it is that made them cry
For this is not the place to shudder and best the worst of the weather, truthful to the damned
But maybe a white lie of the deepest kind when old habits die hard but never wilted, horrror of horrors
That would suffice perhaps for all acts of the order of chaos that I'm silencing at last while time still moves

Then still maybe my nothingness begets none but thanks to the whirl I'm denting on, derwishes or foolery
Because whatever that cuts straight ahead may not be what is best for all to see when all clothes fall down
But never too shameful to admit of faint narcissism of the dope-fed mongrels dominating the valiant next door
For whatever that is crawling within me is eager to get out but not of the front door, should there be one!

Then whatever it is, pray tell are you feeling of me now, my lilting phonetic divulgence wrapped in dirt?
Mocassins of passion of pain in distension, or maybe the ones wracked in ruins of the stoner be your choice?
To tell the world of this misery of ministry is not the best way to live one's life, trust me its true, but rather
Insert this humour on your dolour when the next you went for a funeral to a friend lost to enmity now okay?

Tightly so whitely then now I must go, departing and depraving so lost in transcendence
But maybe its time I admit to have a weakness? For singled in dissidence of a fire in a dire need to be free?
That no matter what I do there would still be no blessings for the things that I'm supposed to do?
Tone not this monster out for when I leave it be at last, to chances and stances for this place is in dust

So neither do hither or come catch my crying, for I'm never so stopping in my quest of vagary
Offsetting unbetting and this time I must go, so goodbye and farewell, may we never meet again!

THE SIGN OF SHAIRO
KL
2011

Quiet Times In The City

Abruptly I feel, when the cold night air it stops as if powerless at last
In this nothingness where no windows would open up to a fresh new streetlight
So dark and dim as my eyes they gaze inwards so gently and restful at best
In this spirited, godsent miracles called to question by the quiet times in the city...

So maybe I am to blame for playing this dirge when my eyes moist not, nor the world around me at best
A sullen lost fool of a man arriving at pleasure through derision of nothing, ridiculing absurdity yet so again
Prostrating inverted as if a pentagram itself is spinning one a song made of sparkling dust of the anathemed
Noisily while I sing for tears left unspilled as the world around me crumbles at best, mocking in jest!

Then I spread myself a vast soft carpet so red made from shame of a hidden secret wrapped in all souls
Brazen like fire afrozen like lakes of sorrow in the white full moon under the spirited sighs of a God in tears
That knows when He can do nothing, and when all but the most pious remembers Him for who He really is
For that's where He feels I should really be, even though I'm not exactly white and sinless as I strive to be!

Then, for the umpteenth time I would pander the roads left unbuilt and unlit for all to despise on
Wondering whether this fleeting stop in the pavement of blackness would later pave way for the light or not
As I stutter to utter this bitter stealth contempt, simmering quietly within me for a very, very long time passing a smile as if a wingless mosquitoe
That none but the most darkest of fallen angels would dare to strike a conversation long enough for me to be me in this vainglorious moment of un-dreams again!

Ah, so undreamingly bright and fluffy would my pillows be a-flying again for the once and future sins of time and space
Threading the darkness of the earliest of morning as if a-suturing a day left bleeding by the force of empty chuckle through ages past
Dating the light black shell of another bland sight of the roaring expressway from where I'm shining my torches at
But never too sure as to when will I allow myself to run along home again, after losing the fight with no one for the price of no-sanity, insoluble at best!

Oh well, inebriate me for one last time this silent mockery of injustice in justless worlds of humanity twisted
That I may sip another drink to drown all that is gnawing at my conscious in silence at best, of friends worse than enemies
And of the staining black of sordid pools of immunity astride misanthrophy that I so vaguely missed, sweet as stones
That forever may I curse the people I'm sharing my life with right now...in peace...in pain...and in twinkling of lies...

Dead again! Go to sleep...

SAIF MINTAKA
KL
2011

Madrigal and Carnival of Souls Corrupted

Woe, beneath this blessed moon that crowned the night
I stand in brief so much grief yet no eyes would cry these tears
That lain and slain me as withering winds of so much infamy
Smothered in trees like the sheet of a mother's cold bed

So maybe the cold is my middle name
Of subjects and objects that carry no more weight in my world
But never too sure of himself to seek resolution as this sun kisses the past
For I have never the will to do courage a good favour, nor will I hear from hope anon

Could it be that no matter on Earth would do me justice as this earth on my frozen face?
Or maybe it is just some singing melancholy that I have yet to silence them all, so mote it be?
But alas, as bereavement make way for ignorance and forgetfulness this pain still reigns in jest
And none but oh so Almighty would emancipate naught but the sweetest of agony when my time comes...

So now let me carry on my final journey as the Minstrel so silenced and a Traveller bereft of words to say
For it is not my intention to be cried into this world to be what I'm now, God forbid me from being misled
To sing this final sigh at the stone of a heart and earth of a body, on this tranquil midnight of no madness
One for the sinning mages called Humanity, and the other for this lifelong living body I called my sorry self

Far beyond the dying sound, of peace and infamy revealed...
And even further still it seems, the thrones of my Majesty!

SAIF MINTAKA
KL
2011