Cluster of Thoughts

You are my salvation
through limitless love
and unendurable pain…

 

In a split second distance
I breathe the same air you take in
and that is how I have you
inside me, for now and a lifetime…

 

Time heals the wound
slowly and painfully but it does
only leaving a scar behind
to tell a broken story…

 

No matter how much I try
I cannot reach you
so I am sending my soul out
of this mortal cage
to meet yours
through the air to your lungs
through dreams in your sleep
through tears crawling down your cheeks
through music to your heart
through death to your life…

 

KaziMustakim_All Rights Reserved © 2017

The Dam-na-tion

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A memory in a crack disc- a thought so disdain ,
A silent fear trickles down with the dripping sweat –
Sometime a voiceless voice stir vigorously- the nervous system.
The crowd- a turmoil, and those impassive faces, cold disorder,
There’s no sign of regret- or returning from formlessness,
Imperceptible acknowledgement of impenetrable A mystery,
The stillness ran into a riot-a massive destruction- a chaos,
Refusal in tone- rather disclosure of an unknown submissiveness,
Such hatred foiled and crafted beautifully- disgraceful and a disposal,
And heart, becomes a receptacle for deceased feelings-
More oft the sky rains- to pour life into lives, to pacify the disorder,
but every time receded-
Softly, and very slowly in terrible anguish, disconcerted-
A terror- a fire ventured in- diminishing all desires from hearts,
And no souls have left salvaging themSelves from straying-
Dispatched in haste-
tremble when passing through treacherous winter,
Icy touch and then solidity, and then shuddering into pieces –
All efforts in tremor.
And then comes in exquisite manner
Compelled into-

The Dam-na-tion.

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Fragmented thoughts from my diary . . .

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Call of Uncertainty

Gathering of thousand feelings in my lonesome engagement-
Amidst chaos of my flattered obscure thoughts- I shattered,
And scattered; moistened and bedewed by my doubtful nature-
Where silence of crowd bothers me; smothering grip upon my neck,
I feel pain such excruciating. Erotic-delicate-softened touch-
Of death alike. The hallowed ground is now fester’d by evil rapture,
The dyke broken and flood of blackish blood invading land of mortals,
And voices are drowned under sand of lies- gasping for air- air of truth.
Surface blackened by bloodless masqueraded faces; and there I sought for-
Absolute perfection- the rarest thing upon planet earth. But the errors,-
Delineated perfectly and I discerned their conspicuous decadence.
Then I excavated my Self from the grave of grasping hands of despair,
Still there left bits of me- Infected. Something alienated, so unknown creeping-
Through my veins- irresistible and incurable. My reformation- I may never-
Return and end up in my journey-
Nowhere – In nothingness.
The call of uncertainty screaming aloud . . .

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