The Man In The Dark

I walked down a dark alley, I remember not why.
Perhaps midnight, and yet something caught my eye.
A young man, like myself, sat alone on a bench.
He hung his head, muttered curses and sat with a hunch..

It was too dark, but I thought he looked almost like me.

“You look upset, dear friend, what would your worries be?”

“Since you asked,” he replied “I shall tell you.

But you may believe only what you believe is true.

 

I sulk because I think the world revolves around me.

But the world is not six feet two, somehow that I see.

There are enough problems every day, each has his own.

Yet I sulk because my problems are all I’ve ever known.

 

I fret because though there’s light in every pit of this world,

I hide in this dark alley, like a snail within its shell is curled.

There is enough hope for all, but I’m in this inertia, my friend.

Thus even though there’s day, I live in the night to the end.

 

I complain about my burden, the cross I struggle to carry.

The world weighs not just a hundred and three, yet people do live merry.

I weep, yet none can console me, for this is what I choose.

The world sees not the agony of one with nothing to lose.”
This man who knew why he sulked was a curious case.
Beneath his hood of darkness, I saw my own sad face.
The alley slowly disappeared, revealing reality to me.
Why my world was dark, I could now clearly see.

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Slaves of Dunya  

Everyone keeps running; why the constant hurry?
You’re only rushing towards your coffin which someday we shall bury.
You say time is precious, but you spend it on what?
Years from now, all that you’ve earned shall be left to rot.

We all seek money, but does it buy us all we want or need?
Money fills the stomach, but my soul it cannot feed.
Money can buy me cocaine, and I may suppress pain.
But money cannot restore my mind, it cannot make me sane.

Only the pleasures of Dunya, Shaitan may offer me.
Money can bail me out of jail, but it cannot set me free.
We say we need money, to earn respect and even joy.
Dunya respects only money, but your life it shall soon destroy.

Do you remember when the pursuit of joy was our only cause?
But now we slave for hours together… trapped in these worldly laws.

We pass by each other

We pass by each other,
hands brush each other.
Accidentally, of course!
We daren’t look at the other.

Just a crush, nothing more.
We’ll be back the way t’was before.
But in between is this brevity
Why won’t you speak, mon cheri?

No words are exchanged
No meetings are arranged
Perhaps your heart belongs elsewhere
I suppose that’s indeed fair

A few days later, the paper thundered
“Lo! A young woman was murdered.”

In Another Universe

Somewhere, across Einstein-Rosenberg’s bridge is another universe
in which you are with me, helping me complete this verse.
Perhaps where I don’t just scribble pointless rhymes,
but where we are together during all the good times.
A world where I’m the one with whom you’d rather be,
and where I don’t have to keep trying to be anyone but me.

But my dear, I’m too old to live in dreamland anymore.
We live in reality, which has, perhaps, nothing left in store.
I’m still scribbling verses alone, and you’re still away from me.
Just another pointless crush is all this is going to be.
Three bottles of beer and a pack of cigarettes…
This is just as romantic as my evening ever gets.

But across Einstein-Roenberg’s bridge, you and I are together.
And I hope, at least there, we’re happy forever…

Surf Dear Heart

Dancing to the whim of the breeze
Back and forth – they never cease.
I stand before the thousand waves
reminiscing my yesterdays.

Facing the breeze, sinking into sand;
sober and pensive does this poet stand.
Time flies by, but persist do the waves.
What’s written on sand, the waters erase.

Memories splash by the shore,
But one day I wouldn’t care anymore.
Life is not a pool for swimming
Surf dear heart, the waves are rising.