Midnight

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Posts posted by Midnight

  6. Posted

    Draining as I wish will free me at last

    Of the past that hasn’t forgiven tears

    A flame I grasp hoping to heal

    A past of mine sleeps to trouble

    Torment that I cry for the wind to blow

     

    My back to the wall I dream to bleed

    No words of mine escape my lips

    As my thoughts confess the deeds

    Empty tears that hold no cause

    A promised pain locked within my soul

    Endures its might with a key

     

    Relentless ground hardens my feet

    Threatening with pity not for self

    I search my days to gain knowledge

    Underneath the mist lies the reason

     

    The confession of my regretful actions

    The destination of the first cut

    For so long I stood to bear

    The blaze I can no longer withstand

     

    The realization of a sinking memory

    Once unforgettable has now fallen

    Do my thoughts betray its own mind

     

    Lost in the dept of the bleed

    As now and forever within these walls

    I rest my soul in a thoughtful sky

  8. Posted

    They articulate my poetry is limitless

    But they don’t distinguish the wisdom is a bless

    See, I eavesdrop within the tales of the wind

    Born in the midst of terminology in my mind

    I been gulping rhythm in and out

    Basing the beats can’t reflect without

    I gazed death in the eyes and uttered a demand

    That is why I don’t understand

    Besides all the lies they crave to divide

    Oddly many eras ago I swallowed my pride

    Miserable looking back and speculating why

    Departed is what there was and I motionlessly defy

    So I clench to what I assume is moment with sympathy

    With a mind partially absent I seen it all through empathy

    And when my silent beliefs are vocalized

    Even with poignant eyes I haven’t decriminalized

    To me there is only solitary truth roaming ceaselessly

    Reasons to a demise abandoned by a stranger freely

    Dreamt was a dreamer half consciously inviting reality

    It wasn’t fate screening scripts but a role in mentality

    Like a poet I observe circumstances and naively heed

    To implicit screams rarely heard but in need

    Words in my head want attention freedom of expression

    A lot of questions so close to confession

    So I listen to a song in the middle of midnight

    An old jazz player recites a poem barely to ignite

    A window of inner sight reflecting a world so perfect

    Sophisticated imagination my mind to connect

     

    I am a thought of a poet fearing loss of words

    Reality reflecting fantasies but never occurs

    We did rather prefer a life so perfect it is deceitful

    Who knew lies were shaped so beautiful

    A mother’s prayers a father’s advice

    So how confused can you be twice?

  9. Posted

    DAMN i knew something was wrong when you started to come late to class...but who knew....i always thought you crazy and i am right...you crazy for love.....and i beleive you have something to tell me before i become a grandmother :D ....

  10. Posted

    You ask who the hell am I?

    I am the person u can’t defy;

    People wonder why I am so fly;

    But they gotta understand I stand up high;

    Some might say and even imply;

    That I am tryna touch the sky;

    So when u ask who am I?

     

    I am the girl at the corner of ur mind;

    The one u might sometimes call a friend;

    But isn’t the one who u did think is ur kind;

    So stop tryna minimize and listen to this advice;

    I am the eyes the wise see thru and hold it as a prize;

    So against me when u decriminalize;

    And say who the hell am I?

     

    See I ain’t tryna preach;

    Just tryna explore and give a speech;

    And find the things in dreams I couldn’t reach;

    So u should realize that I ain’t so naïve;

    After all these years u betta believe;

    And u still wondering who am I?

     

    I am tryna set up a theme;

    U shouldn’t say this is a scheme;

    Think of a solution;

    Cuz am consumed wit frustration;

    Like a stranger manifesting this situation;

    So u finally realize who am I?

     

    I am a dreamer trapped in a dream;

    So I am tryna visualize and make it extreme;

    Where all reality and truth remain supreme;

    So think of me as the girl in twilight zone;

    Who is lost in her thoughts infront of a cyclone;

    Even when u look at me I ain't unknown;

    And in this life I am me always and foreva;

  11. Posted

    masha'allah this poem is so deep and true about somali.....guess some of us in the western world forgot how it was like...seeing everythin around you wither and die.....this poem is a remainder and a real image to what we think we have forgotten......

    a well-based piece i must say.....thks for sharing...

  12. Posted

    this one is my favorite;

     

    Burning Drift-Wood

     

    Before my drift-wood fire I sit,

    And see, with every waif I burn,

    Old dreams and fancies coloring it,

    And folly's unlaid ghosts return.

     

    O ships of mine, whose swift keels cleft

    The enchanted sea on which they sailed,

    Are these poor fragments only left

    Of vain desires and hopes that failed?

     

    Did I not watch from them the light

    Of sunset on my towers in Spain,

    And see, far off, uploom in sight

    The Fortunate Isles I might not gain?

     

    Did sudden lift of fog reveal

    Arcadia's vales of song and spring,

    And did I pass, with grazing keel,

    The rocks whereon the sirens sing?

     

    Have I not drifted hard upon

    The unmapped regions lost to man,

    The cloud-pitched tents of Prester John,

    The palace domes of Kubla Khan?

     

    Did land winds blow from jasmine flowers,

    Where Youth the ageless Fountain fills?

    Did Love make sign from rose blown bowers,

    And gold from Eldorado's hills?

     

    Alas! the gallant ships, that sailed

    On blind Adventure's errand sent,

    Howe'er they laid their courses, failed

    To reach the haven of Content.

     

    And of my ventures, those alone

    Which Love had freighted, safely sped,

    Seeking a good beyond my own,

    By clear-eyed Duty piloted.

     

    O mariners, hoping still to meet

    The luck Arabian voyagers met,

    And find in Bagdad's moonlit street,

    Haroun al Raschid walking yet,

     

    Take with you, on your Sea of Dreams,

    The fair, fond fancies dear to youth.

    I turn from all that only seems,

    And seek the sober grounds of truth.

     

    What matter that it is not May,

    That birds have flown, and trees are bare,

    That darker grows the shortening day,

    And colder blows the wintry air!

     

    The wrecks of passion and desire,

    The castles I no more rebuild,

    May fitly feed my drift-wood fire,

    And warm the hands that age has chilled.

     

    Whatever perished with my ships,

    I only know the best remains;

    A song of praise is on my lips

    For losses which are now my gains.

     

    Heap high my hearth! No worth is lost;

    No wisdom with the folly dies.

    Burn on, poor shreds, your holocaust

    Shall be my evening sacrifice!

     

    Far more than all I dared to dream,

    Unsought before my door I see;

    On wings of fire and steeds of steam

    The world's great wonders come to me,

     

    And holier signs, unmarked before,

    Of Love to seek and Power to save,—

    The righting of the wronged and poor,

    The man evolving from the slave;

     

    And life, no longer chance or fate,

    Safe in the gracious Fatherhood.

    I fold o'er-wearied hands and wait,

    In full assurance of the good.

     

    And well the waiting time must be,

    Though brief or long its granted days,

    If Faith and Hope and Charity

    Sit by my evening hearth-fire's blaze.

     

    And with them, friends whom Heaven has spared,

    Whose love my heart has comforted,

    And, sharing all my joys, has shared

    My tender memories of the dead,—

     

    Dear souls who left us lonely here,

    Bound on their last, long voyage, to whom

    We, day by day, are drawing near,

    Where every bark has sailing room.

     

    I know the solemn monotone

    Of waters calling unto me;

    I know from whence the airs have blown

    That whisper of the Eternal Sea.

     

    As low my fires of drift-wood burn,

    I hear that sea's deep sounds increase,

    And, fair in sunset light, discern

    Its mirage-lifted Isles of Peace.

     

    -----

     

    it is very long but worth the read :D .....

  13. Posted

    ms.word tht guy got u twisted u forgot chillin after skool in the gym......yet we have lost another to the enemy.....biiij u know who this is.....sweet piece....and i finally discovered where u hang about....like a famous poet once said "a poem is neva finished but abandoned"

     

    mac mac

    see ya around suqaar :D