Fortune?

Twas a fluke
stumbled upon

lukewarm and
beckoning

nudge the budge, i did
fell for the moment of release

with a palm for balance
and later two for supplicance

lukewarm fluke
tapeworm unease

© I A Saeed 02.2012

Neighbourly Owl

Tic toc Five

The sun waves bye

He’s arrive!

Lift his arm(s)

not hug you

but shrug you!

Oh the alarm!

How appalling!?

He’d raise his hand

not caress you

cause unrest, harass you!?

Me, bland!

How atrocious!?

“HOOT HOOT HOOT!”

Transcribe my fury prayers

Let them be heard- me, helpless beholder.

-/////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////-

Afternoon ‘laughters’ interpose sweet sweet dreams

but your nightly cries, the screams

Oh! My waking nightmares.

Is there no egress for this steam!?

He’s robbed of me a piece of peace yet again!?

How vile!?

I’ve not hands,( tied)

Yet feet, ossified!

Birthing the best worst view

Along with a wail, cry and hue

Hoot! TOOT! Hoot!

Too passionate to be helpless.

Label thee nocturnal Sisyphus.

If only I were migratory?!

-/////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////-

 

How dire, his ire

spits you blazing fire

“HOOT!! BRUTE!! HOOT!!”

If only He spoke Owl. He would flee

Come to me so you perspire

an escape from mire

“heut beaut heut”

If only YOU understood Owl. You’d come--  fly away me.

-/////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////-

All I could do is “hoot hoot hoot”

Furtively. Furiously. Figuratively

Hoping I reroute him, and soothe

your ‘distraught agony’

an ephemeral hegira, such melancholy

so I hoot toot hoot 

-/////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////-

Gaze upon my dwelling

now eclipsed by your twin

beaming, from heaven’s ceiling

bestowing vision akin to Odin

 

Were I fit a Paladin

His well will run dry

You, will be mine

For now…

I, hoot and toot (of a brute)

You, daze & gaze (always).

Such is ours-

A looming routine.

A hurtful maze.

After all…

I'm just a neighbourly owl….(in love hate love)

Doth thou amaze?!

© I A Saeed 26 06 2009 BT

That Love

(Consider this a warm up :-) by some random dude with random words that inspire random randomness within.... Enjoy!)

"That Love" by Simone Stolzoff

I want to scale the summits of our silence
Trace the topography and texture of the undulating sound waves
like I used to stroke the grooves of the wind outside the passengers seat.

From the start when
I will wait to approach, my heart will thump like a sly bassline
while I picture you strumming serenades on my heartstrings,
you’ll have me syncopating syllables like chambers.
If your heart is as big as my heartbeat will suggest,
I’ll have to buy you a bigger cage before then.

From the start, you’ll just be her—
A she and an I was without a we.
Beauty will be in the arms of who can hold her.
All I want is to be the he in your heart
and when intimidation turns into infatuation and you finally can become my you,
I will hate how easily you’ll be able to make or break my day.

Your eyes will wait like Christmas eve.
Your smile will dimple rooms like stars do July.
I will put them in a glass jar—
Don’t worry I’ll poke holes in the top so they can breath.
And put that container, shining like an inside of a firework,
on the pedestal next to your face.

But truthfully, the love I want at two shades over 19 years isn’t that poetic.

Cuz I want that:
I spend a disproportionate amount of time on your Facebook profile type love,
that girl I wanna take you out to commons type love,
that I will ask your name before my tongue goes down your throat type love.
But it’s also:
that I left a spot for your head carved in my shoulder type love,
that I carry your stories on the inside of my teeth so only I know why I’m smiling type  love .

The truth is I’d be just fine with that “like” type love.

Cuz so far I tend to be that guy that lets go after the honeymoon,
yet to be the one to go all in with a 7 2 off suited clinging to that one heart in my hand and hoping to find a pair.
So I’ll wait for the day where I’ll realize that sometimes dancing is the storm is prettier than in the shine,
wait for that love that’s more than something a woman gives and a man takes,
wait for that love that has no regard for timing or discretion,

that love that god writes sunsets about,
that Garret writes poems about,
that wars fought, leaders shot,
that love that romantics rot for.

The closest I’ve come to crying for love was in the fourth grade when I realized Jordan Leonard was too popular for me.
And I know weeping for a girl doesn’t quite gel with this Judeo-Thug persona I’m going for,

but if that’s what it takes to get that Jennifer-Aniston-movie type love, I’ll cry and swim down my check waterfalls into the river I cry myself.

Right now love is someone that I admire, but don’t yet know like the trash man on my block or the inventor of bendy straws.

So I’m not sure if I can write a love poem while its still just a prospect pirouetting on my horizon.

But hopefully I’ll find it,
Like finding five dollar bill in folds of denim.
And when I do find that love
You’ll be the first to hear about it.

The Nonpareil Ones

The Nonpareil Ones

(11:24pm 23rd Aug 2009... editted 2011)

When you're born into this world…

You get to possess and have alota stuff and people in your life.

Of the people…

There’s a particular set... that are unique.

Are irreplaceable.

Are nonpareil— PARENTS!!

As aspiring parents and present progenies we may have reservations.

(The know-it-all syndrome)

But… The truth is the truth is the truth!

You may be ‘fortunate’ enough to have many friends, accomplices, siblings,
be polygamous (-androus) and bring forth life in varying gender, form, shape,
and size—children… you call your own.

(Notice the multiplicity, replacability, and transferability)

However…

That one set of parents is all you get— One mom. One dad.

Be you of the fortunate few that realize this and embrace them and give them their due.

Be you even luckiest if you never needed a reminder/epiphany to point.

Cuz at the end of the day you can never love them and have their best of best interest at heart the way they do you.

Tell me if that’s transferable, replaceable, or multiplicable??!?

I thought so!

A mother is basically the only being whom you could kill intentionally, have her resurrected and I’m sure she’d say— "I forgive you, I’m sure it was a mistake..."

You do it again and she’d repeat the same, and again, and again and again.

BOTTOMLINE- when it comes to doing right by the world and doing okay by your parents... Only the way of God should be a deterring factor.

It’s nonnegotiable!

I can choose U, U, U, and U over U, U, U, and U.

But not parents.

“A flower cannot choose where it blossoms neither can a child choose its parents.”

~Unknown~

“From the day

they've met—

consummated

conceived—

A Me

Named this Me

and

Blessed that Me

The deed

has been sealed.”

“Written by a ‘perfect’ son

Of/and about ‘imperfect’ parents

In a ‘perfect’ world

During an ‘perfect’ era

In imperfect words

Hoping—

To deliver a perfect message— clear”

~I A Saeed~

 

Dedicated to my beautiful Mother and all the parents (and grandparents) we’ve lost.

May all their transgressions, big and small, be forgiven by the Almighty.

And may there be naught to cause them worry or sorrow.

May their gentle and generous souls find eternal and

Blissful peace.

Ameen

"Allahuma Ghaffirha Warrham'ha Wa affi'iha wa affu'anha..."

© I A Saeed 2011