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