Archives to Reopen

Please read the previous poem entitled ‘Filed in Archives’ before this one.

Gasping deprived souls,
On the floor,
Staring so aimlessly,
Against their wills,
In this hell,
Captivated, tortured, butchered,
Few last long,
All inevitably expire,
Except this one,
Since carelessness arose,
Ignored for seconds,
Screaming for power,
Gigantic emotions rush,
Joints rapidly restructure,
Releasing the chains,
Ostentatious deep inhalations,
Reviving once more,
Archives to reopen,
Recollections of old-times,
Needing unwanted souls,
Pure, gullible, frail,
Failure never returned,
Hands supporting body,
Standing on legs,
Souls comforting others,
Reflections of torture,
Dark clouds form,
Raining to cleanse,
Evolving white habits,
Reacting with walls,
Of this abyss,
Dissolving to bits,
Removal of confusion,
Steps to walk,
Stairs to climb,
Energising the soul,
Surviving once more,
In this life,
A chemical world.

Monday, 15th of February 2010

Filed in Archives

A deprived soul,
Found another one,
Just as empty,
In the abyss,
With locked chains,
Ferocious cries silenced,
By hellish whips,
Files to forget,
Archiving unwanted souls,
Pure, gullible, frail,
Breaking their wings,
Neck restrains applied,
Handcuffed by force,
Crawling in fear,
Hammering cracked bones,
Skulls wide open,
Fighting against them,
Abducting itself away,
Failure creeps again,
Cursed black habits,
Reappear amidst conflicts,
Wounds so insecure,
Awaiting their decay,
Nails holding souls,
Eyes to stab,
Never to see,
Tongues to iron,
Never to speak,
Throats to slaughter,
Never to breathe,
Drinking their blood,
None to rescue,
Continuous physical abuse,
Joints distinctly misshapen,
Risk of recovery,
Very very low.

Monday, 15th of February 2010

A Hurtful Departure (collaborative work) (edited)

Words from Um 3eesa’s blog
Choice and compilation by Bu Thyab

If these were written by hand,
The ink would have smudged,
Beyond recognition,
Mixing with my …

My insides are eroding,
My heart has turned black,
After burning for so long,
My heart bled …

It is worse than having someone,
Make an incision in your chest,
With a hot, blunt metal object,
Dipped in acid, then rip your heart …

My throat,
Has gone,
Very sore,
And my eyes …

Friend-less when you came into my life,
Heedless and confused,
Friend-less I am once again,
But, I waste no efforts trying to fit in …

Wednesday, 10th February 2010

The Sightly Blind (edited)

I have always felt your gentle presence at my street,
Emerging from its corners as a dainty little child,
Singing merrily as if a nightingale found its freedom,
Dancing randomly like a butterfly under my moonlight,
Blind as I am, though I cannot keep my eyes off you,
Wearing a yellow coat over my blue well-ironed shirt,
Fitting well with my nineteen-year-old black jeans,
Tried to polish my pair of old worn out black boots,
Groomed my hair, cut my nails, and tidied my beard,
Grabbing my stick and shoving my hat onto the floor,
My meeting starts as I say: “hello there! Care to help?”
Soon afterwards she walks me to my other streets,
As she departs smiling I return it my way and enquire,
“Will you be there when the first falling snow appears?”

Monday, 08th of February 2010