To Reach Her Heartbeat

A sudden movement of a pulsating star
Might indicate a celestial heartbeat,
One that awaits many hugs and kisses,
Awaiting on the shores of hope,
Listening to the whispers of life,
Leaving footprints on our sand,
Now constellations start to play darts,
And I might have missed the bullseye,
But I still look towards the pulsating star,
Hoping to reach her heartbeats, one day.

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Evolving Poetry

Do you remember when the rhythm
Was as important as the form
Of a deeply inspiring poem
Intended to illustrate
Sophistication?

Well,
The need to
Neglect its significance
In order to keep moving forward
And reach the apex was more important.

Two Sides of the Same War

The space is spilling its own secrets,
But a void is trying to interrupt the
Communications, and a wooden door
Was opened, I heard it myself, stars
Running through it as if horses or
Soldiers or freedom fighters, or waves
Upon waves of nature’s way to show
A peaceful movement, and there –
There! A shooting star leading the
Resistance against all of the void,
And the horns of battle have been
Blown, and now, stars clash against
Blackness somewhere into the space,
The sky starts to be filled with fog,
Obscuring the battlefield, everything
Is now cloudy, but I can feel the stars
Are starting to diminish – our poor
Sky is gathering their dust and is
Now full of tears, we are getting
Drenched by their sorrow while
Both space and void sit back on
Their comfy chairs shaking hands
After all pawns gone: checkmated.

Uncertainty

Uncertain of the watered earth
(Dampened from a drowning sky)
To recollect the puzzled fragments
That grew on ancient branches,
Disintegrated by another soul
That was diseased out of society,
Something contagious is now
After my own insecure self,
Remedies with side effects,
And somehow I might be cured,
Perhaps, the notion of wild
Emotions will now disappear,
An erased historical movement,
Undermined to empower ignorance,
And certainly, I am now shaken
By this huge jigsaw puzzle with
Deliberately missing pieces,
Another movement to elude
A dimensionless emotion
Into many hopeful hugs and
Slightly less skewed kisses,
Buildings demolished for their
Outdated archaeological
Blueprints covered in dust,
But now, a third movement
Attempts to recover missing shards,
And renovate the soul into society,
Surely, this delusional phase is
Just a selfish juvenile uproar,
A system to infinitely drive
The soul into many dead-ends,
The cruelty of this life’s maze,
Constellations have begun to
Change or even disappear,
Severing the bond this soul
Once had with its own tree,
Dismissing all forms of guidance
To follow a narrow passage,
Just enough for few pulses
Of sunlight and moonlight,
And now, this quivering soul is
Branched into the watered earth,
Drowned towards uncertainty.

Change the System Not the Climate

Now, you just need to write
It down like you did before,
Something you are angry about,
Something about this world, or
Something you are passionate about,
Something that you want to protect –
No matter what,
Something you want to forever erase –
No matter what,
Write about the voiceless justice,
Or about the cries of rotten rats
That swarm the news headlines,
Billionaires owning what we hear,
What we see, and what we read,
The one percent guiding us,
The ninety-nine, into believing
The benefits of their mastery over
Our voluntary enslavement,
A charitable movement from us,
The ninety-nine, towards them,
The one percent, and indeed,
We allowed our men into war,
Maggots feeding on the sizzling
Dish to be served on golden
Plates and royal cutlery that
Become tomorrow’s headlines,
And we believe in their heroism,
We cheer for their deaths,
And we cheer for their return,
Returning wounded and voiceless,
And if any exposes the buried
Atrocities, then we accept
The system that puts them
On the menu for Today’s Special,
And we vote for the one percent,
For their beautifully carved thrones,
A burden that we choose to carry,
In our name they decree airstrikes
On hospitals, schools, and places
Of worship with cover stories to
Allude us into dancing our feet
Off the ground until we believe
Our transformation into celestial
Creatures; angels that protect
The world from corruption,
From demons in their own lands,
The lands of the ninety-nine,
Resources sucked out dry
As their thrones continue to
Expand in our sacred name,
And as we smoke our air
Into smithereens because
The system is meant to be
Treated that way, we await
A dance ritual from the one
Percent to alleviate our
Suffering, and what we,
The ninety-nine, see are them
False banners about the attempt
For climate change in the next
Few decades, a hopeful bait like
A carrot to a donkey’s journey,
And one day the carrot will
Burn and the donkey will
Run in reverse failing to
Notice the enclosing floods,
And indeed, in our sacred
Name the planet will survive,
The one percent in their jets
Will survive, but never us,
The ninety-nine of us
Will continue to roll a die
Into the inevitable homelessness,
An acceptable collateral damage
Discussed in their board meetings,
So, no need to find a solution
Since there is no problem
In this profit-driven system,
Devised by the one percent;
Meanwhile, we applaud their
Beautifully carved thrones as
They dust us out of history.