So may it be this comfort gleam I rest on laurels of dead, dead lives
And for all the glaze of searing cravings no roads unswept for when I ride forth
To see this sing of the winter's gaze no stranger are we all to nice untold truths
And to sing that much truth so uncouth I'm this me so well on a path of nothingness still
But could this be grey the entrance of realms so unholy they break but all hearts in the wake of the dead?
Of sad red eyes that did glance the morning may also be a-present in times of long twilight, unseemly in jest?
For a heart that falls on tepid black cataracts oh shower me bliss these peaceful of times, now don't you agree with me?
Of the one that speaks with so much of stones in so many of hearts but why must I be the one to undo them again?
So 'tis maybe for once that I felt such sweetly a scent of a hope she beckons me free to embrace more fine madness!
Or maybe 'tis me who is mad deep inside to never let go, for whenever the fires they died out in black then it will always be me who prays for red embers!
And for this one great punishment I've received but as if I was wronged by the One on the Throne but in truth no one did me this badly but me!
So to whole of the wrongness for this I did carve to me a statue malcontent, but for what are these wings to adore that dim face of a fanged dead surly to abide by this me?
Alas this great May now she rolls out of sight in slightly weak whimper, to send me much tauntings for failures I beget
For many a big time did I break my heart down my face still much losing but whither this be the end then there's so much more that I would still give
For another green dainty for a chance to be pretty in faces so unhallowed, or maybe this dream is still in dreams for me in much earnest?
Then maybe now can I spread my wings and fly off into the sunrise for a moment of splendour, to erase but my past to prepare for my future...
SAIF NIZMA
KL
2012
Sunday, May 27, 2012
Wednesday, May 9, 2012
As The Shadows They Roam...
For this steal of the hour when the night time it weeps, I stand tall and alone as the midnight it sighs
For the hour is late but too much of late for tears and despairs I have shuttled in-between, abating not
But to what or to whom does this bell did toll to no one or any who could tell, then maybe I am but lost so far in the world that never wanted me
Too sorry for myself for forgetting that it was me who complicates my own life, and for this I cheer the darkness for its friendliness, cold but much comfort...
So now this light-hearted me did once asked about the way to go from here and there, for this lust or this lost nearsighted whims of a heart--whatever comes first
To which would I turn all my compasses to; for freedom or in earnest, to whoever that would strike so low for the earth that only then would I lower my head in sorrow again
But to this much the end no answers I had found to tell me of where should I go from here, or wherefore are lives still quiets themselves at every after midnight
And thus for once again I would find myself here among the four walls, of a room that may or may not promote me to another lifestyle, or at least some hope for tomorrow...
Forsooth I am but tired of searching in loneliness bordering on poverty, for a much coveted life where idealism seems to be more vivid that reality
But to me what else can I do to make things right for myself for once, for this damned me only follows his heart and no one else!
And so I would waiver and wither on the couch of this perpetual sad stares, too late for much bosoms of relief, too early to call on Sir Azrael
For when the sun shines again at the dawn of the morrow, maybe this me would once again sit astride this carousel-not-stopping, to wander alone as the shadows they roam...forever
THE SIGN OF SHAIRO
KL
MAY 2012
For the hour is late but too much of late for tears and despairs I have shuttled in-between, abating not
But to what or to whom does this bell did toll to no one or any who could tell, then maybe I am but lost so far in the world that never wanted me
Too sorry for myself for forgetting that it was me who complicates my own life, and for this I cheer the darkness for its friendliness, cold but much comfort...
So now this light-hearted me did once asked about the way to go from here and there, for this lust or this lost nearsighted whims of a heart--whatever comes first
To which would I turn all my compasses to; for freedom or in earnest, to whoever that would strike so low for the earth that only then would I lower my head in sorrow again
But to this much the end no answers I had found to tell me of where should I go from here, or wherefore are lives still quiets themselves at every after midnight
And thus for once again I would find myself here among the four walls, of a room that may or may not promote me to another lifestyle, or at least some hope for tomorrow...
Forsooth I am but tired of searching in loneliness bordering on poverty, for a much coveted life where idealism seems to be more vivid that reality
But to me what else can I do to make things right for myself for once, for this damned me only follows his heart and no one else!
And so I would waiver and wither on the couch of this perpetual sad stares, too late for much bosoms of relief, too early to call on Sir Azrael
For when the sun shines again at the dawn of the morrow, maybe this me would once again sit astride this carousel-not-stopping, to wander alone as the shadows they roam...forever
THE SIGN OF SHAIRO
KL
MAY 2012
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