A Toast For The Senses

Sing low for the snow of parting, on this eve of the deadened sorrow I sear this heart in place of woes

For this scene of appraising it raised me up for the parlour of instances, in droves they came annexed

On this sullied sweet rapture of nothing in blazes now pray for me or try to stay still as the twilight falls

For this me still singe the tides of morrow for the faith of non borrowed to this end will this I be stopped

So no more would one find now this me still sighing on tombstones of old; or forests so shadowed, this much I'd concur

For whither would someone be on time for such pleasantries, than when it is time to say out one's will?

Then it seems for this me I'd still be alone without any much hope or without any real friends, deeply carved on my heart

And sang in brief for deepened grief but none will dry up my wall of water for the place to call home, or a face to feel owned by

And thus I'd sing such laments for this glowing white screen of a blogging much heretics, too late to did know of why did he did that

And strobed and frilly now be this lighting of fallacy on honour much piety for this swaying moment of discerning darkness, a toast for the senses

And to all I wish a good earned twilight for rest and recuperation, for this me still walks the earth in grief and in joy, and this joyful black mixture of sorrow he drinks

To which dark ends he won't mind for the sellout of great chances, of him for his God as he wails at the moon, at the moment before the storm...

SIGN OF SHAIRO

KL

2013

The Path of Light And Darkness

Forget it, for this screen has much whiteness but all I feel is nothing in particular

For it's been a long time passing since I've felt the need to tell everything, to feel everything

But what price the scene of contempt for the one who didn't know why he was wronged?

Is there any illusion left to tell me that all I've ever been through is false, so wrong and mere made-up?

Alas these too will give up for home these words these ideas these writings on the screen

For whereas the stubby went still with their lives I still feel wrong to the touch, mere but out-of-place

But still nobody looks at to where I was looking, nobody sees anything or its value as what it is

So is this the madness it comes for the one who thinks too much but did so little?

So what is it that I'm asking myself as to whether or not I see it or but pretending?

Is there a word to describe it or maybe none of the words in this world would matter themselves to me?

Am I still relevant in this world when I feel that nobody saw me in this thing called Life, still out-of-place

So awkward still clumsy but to this middle 30's, why am I still finding it hard to feel in-tune with this world?

Alas, even these words and these knowledge these skills seem to have stopped being so friendly to me

Like I've never even know how to write and read in the first place yet they still be written by me right now

Oh fuzzy, wuzzy insanity in detachment, or so perhaps it could be that I'm being thrown from this world

And so if that's the case then where should I go from here then?

Where could there be in this Kingdom of God that my kind be as safe and so accepted as norm?

Would there be hope still that I'd be there in time, or could this be the end of me in place not of me?

Oh holler for me this hollow still hallowed but for never be borrowed let this be mind of me the path I must take

For if such this be true that I'm not born for this place and time, then let me now go to the paths of light and darkness

And to stay within there, in peace and in mourn
In prayer and in despair, for all that I am 

Forever...

SAIF MINTAKA
KL
2013

A Failure In Goodbyes

What if you'd believe, that I am a dreamer, for all of my dreams be ashes and dirt?

What price should be put, on all of my honesty, in the world where money is god?

Is there room left for the innocent, the naive, the unassuming, to carve one's own life?

Or should they just now carve, their name on their stones, so cold and so gleaming?

Alas it shook much scare to the core, to see that this coil be mortally living

When all that he's made of are mere sweet distractions, a fraction of what's his

When life met him so boldly, and smiles greeted him so densely, for all and each sunrise

A mellow sighing for the purest of white, like the clouds for the sun, a noon for all seasons

Now there's none but the dead, though life clings to him still

Already in backwards, this once so brazen a life in searching

For the gilded jewel a ruby of fire, a sapphire of gleams

And an emerald of soiree, for a solitude so jubilant!

So now he's so one but the screens of his scribbler

Together in brief for another night's out, or another frail clout

For here are the dead time for a future foreclosing, in deeds of no flesh or the red from his tears

For another late stopping, this time he's not dear, as to what might not been, should today be tomorrow...

And so this wailing of inwards be no ears would so picked up, for the clandestine his fate in nobody's knowing

And so this dusk hailing, arriving in dust, would now be his mark, for the world he so loathed yet leaving he's so lost

And too little would he be, in the hands of Almighty, for the dripping of dim candles, his dreams the living tethers, be they holding him place

In deep and in agony, so low but so long, like damnations a-calling, to him this would do, for a failure in goodbyes...

THE SIGN OF SHAIRO

KL

2013

Far From The Norms

So long I have seen the greatness of light, of brightly majestic warm streaking bewildered of stars

For though indeed I am what I'd call a Silent Traveler, this much is known for my love of the vast

And how I yearn to traverse the cosmos, so beauteous so rare much light and more awestruck

For quickly I could travel the light and the void, so much so damn faster I'd speed off my starting!

I know of all places there lies in the fringes, of galaxies and clusters so radiant in gases

And for all such is Life may they be in much of them, such stars oh so brightly so teeming with them!

Indeed I did know for when I did stare, those pictures so much oh civilised are they of intelligence

For how would they perceive the universe around them, or how would they wonder if they were alone?

For this be mine dreams for lifetimes to come, this once and great dreamer oh me in the flesh

Alighting from fancy for reveries that's far from the norms, this world I would trade for a sojourn in stars

To meet all for once the life all out there, in planets like us or others too weirdly, for this I'd sit still

No suns no dry moons be I'd left unexplored, for a world in great glee from this within me!

SAIF MINTAKA

KL

2013

A Sigh For The Dreamer Still

So now, after all the celebrations are over, there was calm, and there was coldness

Indeed the moment is gone the crowds have dispersed, saved for their garbage and stuffs no longer useful

Oh indeed 'tis me who did stay and did watched all the light shows and noises, now on the silenced it reign as a few they did linger

For a moment to savour before heading home for bed, exhausted at best, smiling or the like, for this once a year fanfare that has since gone to memory...

So what did make me to stay when all the others are gone? To watch the garbage men hauling up what was left of their dreams?

So is this be normal to me to see all their wishes and joys be dead on wet grass? And to know they'll be back when another year ends?

What is it that I feel when I looked at the sky still? Was there a notion I've passed that I need to relook? Or perhaps some comfort to know that I did once went home?

Oh it seems to me this drama unfolded then folded twice played at are wondrous at best, sweet nothing for the senses, a sigh for a dreamer still, in search for some solace...

So then this me he got up and wend on his way for a transport for home, to place but his face on a pillow of nothing, dreaming insanity

For a place so far yet its presence still strong, of a final day's journey for the home of his soul, the hearth of his mind, the couch of his heart

The place not of native but naively he pursued, like a purposeful life in the mired solution, for all his woes and sadness despaired

A land not of dirt, that cradled an edifice not in stone, of lawns and gates so golden like fancy, of faces of family no blemish no pain, and no torment of word to scare my will still

A home I did made, a place called the Future...

SAIF MINTAKA

KL

1st January 2013