Un-inspired

Muses,
Visit and whisper to me
The conventional way I can summon you
My fingers were supple with your presence
Now the mind is no longer susceptible
to the coldness of the night
And winter is not here.

Teaching the Soulless

These, I attempt;

How about disclosing some lies
How about teaching the soulless –
to unleash

How about a white touch on the invisible
on the hidden, on the untouched,
on those unapparent –
the ones locked?
how about
unveiling the ones kept within
your built confinement of deception
how about tearing the skin, the membrane
of dishonesty

What about unleashing the deceased?
Immorality and evilness you have written
Those you believe, but those which had painted
dark indecency upon a torn justice
what about ripping of two fingers
that turn the key anti-clockwise

what about us the green leaves
what about us the golden soil
what about us you gained
a deceit loyalty from?

‘Haha~’
‘Haha~’ me dear power
I am but a fool in your sight
I am not a phoenix waiting
for a second release
for a second reincarnation –


because I am in no possession
of ashes of evidence
that I’d be a rising soul
that I’d be a screaming voice
in the heavy crowd
with the rain
with the endless mockeries
deceitfulness,
but I am not the ‘nothing’

Syima M.A
March 31, 2007
9:03 pm

Love Whisperer

Finally,
These unsealed murmurs; I love thee

Have you tried kissing the morning dew?
Like she did –
after her shattered dreams
Only seem to take its infant steps.
When you embrace sorrowful nights,
she marveled –
Upon the bright night
amused with glorified lies

Have not your senses enlightened?
She kissed the next Friday joyful morning dew
with warmer crimson cheeks
with togetherness of faith, love
She plucks the essence of endearment
She trades dreary indigo into vibrant dove

Gently adorned sweetest love, thy grin
As lovers of November
might have had
but both leered as cracked vows crept in
Let calm prayer ascends in continuity –
Allows us to paddle with decency
Neither us swim so deep, without impairment
for we are not deity, love
we are but dancing nymphs
we strive, without mystical force
of our own but God’s miracles
Like she did, we too must –
attend many healings
for our little but most painful wounds.
Like she had, we too must
kiss the morning dew.
After mournful nights, after scornful fights.

These whispers I blow to thine ears
I, love, is your persuasion, by which –
I tell you tales of a dainty legendary
By which – here I write
To shed away your gray doubts of you and me –
Because I too, love, can be your sweet affliction.

Syima M.A
1:07 am 260307

She Talked about Wrath

“The mind keeps inviting the unwelcomed
Imagination may escalades the kind of life I live in.
I just want to vision the what-ifs…
What if we never want to forgive?”

I had at my back a pulling rough string
The pressure was boiling and the demand piled up
with their tongues mocking this fearful spine
having no power to limit their power
having no means to exceed their means

Acidic liquor poured on the left hemisphere
and my nostril bled, I was losing balance
Fingers with dirt endlessly attempted to wipe, only to realize
it made the lesion spitted more blood and darker liquid followed,
Ending seemed nonsense; lucky star was a corrupted hope.

The wish to crawl out when the night fell
and the star gazed in hide ‘n’ seek
tearing my back with a mysterious concentration and passion
like its routine by nights and sharpens its skills by day,
to brutalize a weaker strength.
I have laid my Axe to fight, to bring me to my feet
somehow it didn’t make me an equal fighter to the enemy within
somehow it ripped the things I preserved between times.

Despair asked in howling when I grabbed on a loose chance
What difference it shaped when making amendment only after midnight?
Can healing takes its process in quiet, when –
the legendary werewolves whine about together to this desperation?
This frail body succumbed to a dogma not to a cleansing religion
This frail mind analyzed a reason to seed a raging calamity
and not to seed a release pursues by promising tranquility
Contaminated smokes released from inside of my burning soul
My eyes were red from the tears I forced to prevent from leaking
Weakness was obvious when papers recklessly I tore in hundred pieces
I was unreasonable to hold my tears, if it drowns me further
I should be swimming; nevertheless disparity is unwise to be tamed.

Hope was absent only for I had not been chasing it
It sped up as I had become weighty to run even alongside
It sped up never for the benefit of its own
I never held my hands out for it; hence I tamed a cursed lion.
Only I knew later it tamed me to bow to its own anger
Only I knew then it gave me a blind faith only to its blistering protests.

Syima
May 4, 2007
1:24 am