Jasvinder.

Jubilant and forefront, this man of old.

A story to many, yet a stroy still untold.

Such is his divinity, encompassed in flesh, blood and bone.

Valiant is his attempt, to leave his legacy in stone.

Insured only by his dreams fuelled by foresight and ambition.

Now succumbed, he walks in a field of thorns, spawns of the devil's inhibition.

Defeated he is today, victory has been scorched in his eye.

Enraged by human stupidity, he finds solace, in the greatness up high.

Renounced by many, a brother he is to us, to me, to the family.

Sham

190908

For you.

Along time ago, in a different world, below a strange cloud, at the edge of a familiar pleateau.
Sharing a beautiful moment, where time stops, where reality is the encompassing shadow.
Hands snugged under warm soft cotton,
Inching ever so closer to the feeling long forgotten.
Quiet smothers the air, as we find a gift God given.
In a solemn prayer we hold on to it as our fingers trace the linen.
Now i remember. and forever i shall be grateful for your humble reminder.

the Movida Conspiracy

thy neighbour.

Like anything which is precious
A diamond of thorn amongst the roses
Vividly created with flaws of imperfection
Incidently like Eve's very own reflection.
Not knowing its true form of purpose
Iducing hope and prayers amongst the devil's curses
A diamond beyond the confinement of the word precious

have you been there? you know, the place that you think about when your alone.

are you alone there? do you find yourself staring at the sunset and looking for someone on your own.

can you feel pain there? does the cuts you got 5 mins ago still hurt when you scratch.

are you lost when you're there? do you suddenly feel like you need someone to match.

do you feel strong there? or do you feel the weakest you have since forever.

do find friends there? when you walk down the yard to see the faces of pirates and their long lost treasure.

can you remember why you're there? or do you still tell yourself that its not your fault.

you still there? i thought we were brothers, you know like nuts and bolts.

we were there? i'm sorry, i cant remember about all the times we fought.

are you there? oh look. silly me. this phone is missing its chord.

BwLhAiCtKe

can you sing in silence = and look thru the eyes of the blind
can you comfort to cause pain = and pray to the devil devine.

can you tell the truth to lie = and look down on a star
can your body listen = and let your heart love the Tsar.

can you see regret in a new borns eye = and look for life in a graveyard
can you realise that money is life = and say that saint theresa has no heart.

can you bleed and be high = and drown in a sea of sand
can you find realilty in a dream = can you buy a friend.

can you plant a dead tree = and encourage fear
can you die in heaven = an see your reflection in a mirror.

are you there. can you see me.
are you there. please help me.

my name is tiffany, or was it michelle.
it doesnt really matter now. i need help. i fell.

i cant see very well. but it hurts all over.
they yanked my hair so hard. i knew he was coming sooner or later.

he pinned me down. he hit me harder and harder.
i was in too much pain before i realised that the crowd arrived. i still can hear the laughter.

i told daddy to stop. but he was too drunk as usual.
his hand held me down. while his friends helped themselves to me.

i couldnt understand what was going on. what was on me that they keep taking my clothes off.
i got very cold. i got very scared.

they seemed happy. they took turns.
i told daddy to tell them to stop. he looked at me all glazed. his cigarrette burned.

when they were done. daddy picked me up. he still talking to his mates.
i felt safe.

until he threw me out the window.
daddy left me to die.

this be the last letter i write to you.
tommorow i start anew.






rizuana aka tiffany
1990-2008
i remember.

236.228

a distant breeze gives life to the remains of yesterday.
dust and leaves dance all over.
yet they still dance together.

you turn to see the alley where once friends used to haunt.
yet now, you see friends amongst tragedy, deceit and plot.

in your intoxicated heart, you pray for the messiah to come in any shape and form.
and you turn to see johnny amongst enemies. the messiah reformed.

so as they scream time to close, you tighten your grip on your glass of Gin and T.
for you know, its time to come is near. the monster known to many as reality.

so you sit outside the temple which is always close never closed,
you see the care taker who breathes fire, his eyes judge yet never surprised.

your walk home in silence is in solemn prayer for the death of the day.
the breeze holds your hand and joins you in your walk.

yet, still they dance together.

Saints who Sinned

You stand there all jaded yet glistening youth shimmers of you.
And i stand gasping for air.
Such tales of saints who sinned have been mere myths.
My scares give me strength thru rage, yours gives you immortality.
In my moment of glory, i am humbled by you admiring my apparent greatness.
Now i know, God is not up there where mortals plant dreams, he is among us.

In every prayer born out of misery.
Deep within the very vein of those who can never cry.
Reach out you say, and lay down you shield of arrogance.
I am not afraid you whisper, for what you perceive as greatness,
Sits in my palm humbled by the generations of saints who sinned.

Sham to my friends.

Son to my Mother.

Shahrman to God.

this is me. and this is you.

Such talent and abilty.

Handsome young and ambitious.

A one man army against the world.

Making history.

Inside my own little world.

Remembering the you.

dont just read. See. Look.

*the Phalic Queen*

my arrongance has been a mother to me.
it has punished me, clothed and fed me.
it has been my one true friend who has never ran away.
even when everybody seem to find such flaws as they look my way.
my arrogance has put one arm 'round my shoulder,
and gave everyone else the godly finger.

yet as you spoke to me that day, and you carefully settled my shield down.
you held my hand and asked me why.
i was lost. for without it i panic and shiver.
yet again you put such warmth within and told me theres nothing to fear.
you are amongst friends and family.
and as i looked at the words which you sang,
it was true.

and for ever i will be grateful to you.
Thank you.


*the Phalic Queen*

the thoughts of a father.

im holding on while i see my sins in light.

as my fingers quiver i try to stay strong with all my might.

the tears were forbidden to flow,

yet as they trickle down the plains of my cheek, it gives of a heavenly glow.

i keep my eyes close, not wanting to see the jury around me.

the people who love me.

yet my eyes pry open to see all hands together,

united in prayer.

they know, it is only a matter of time.
before the angels come, for me to repent for all my crimes.

so many thoughts rush thru my head.

from the prison walls to mums famous breakfast in bed.

the pain becomes too much to bear.
the jury hears me curse and swear.

i drew one last breath for i know that the time is now.
the ensemble sucks in the tears as all their heads bow.

as i slowly faded,

you came running in looking all grown up and jaded.

i asked Him for a chance to say good bye to you.
He replied, its too late to apologise. For now you become immortal,

let her start anew.

and forever you will live.

there.

where the blind see the sun and the deaf listens to the wind.
where stories end with a comma, where a good deed is a sin.

a promise is born.
like a blooming rose which shelters its thorn.

a promise concieved by meer words enchained in a sentence.
a feeling so emense, that even in an empty room, it leaves a presence.

it was concieved by the purest of lights, and the hardest of stone.
it was meant to be received, yet right there it stands alone.

now mistaken for the ghost of christmas past, it is shunned and feared.
when all it is trying to do is to find its purpose, to finally be heard.

so it rest and waits where the blind see the sun and the deaf listens to the wind.
where stories end with a comma, where a good deed is a sin.

with a pain in its heart that even the heavens dare not bear,
it waits, right........

there.

Tribute to Greatness.

And now i tell you a tale of a spartan friend.

My friend who because of me, was bruised batttered and met her tragic end.

Against all odds, she battled the her foes in the pits of tatarus, climbing the walls of hell.

Licking her wounds dry, with her eyes fixed in the sky, feeding her rage with, revenge, that, she shall.

In the fields of olympus i sit wit zeus and the rest of the gang reminding them of this day.

Never forgetting in death one can truely apprecieate life and all of its dismay.

Against all odds here she comes like the mesiah himself, to give life the joy death brings.. my spartan friend.



End.

TO HALIM: LIFE WELL SPENT. GOD BLESS.

i call this painting.. a poem

i sit on the boat we bought, out at sea,
a place long forgot.
armed with a brush as my sword, and the canvas as my shield,
i set out to capture the Sun and all that it shines upon, i begin to wield.
as i focus on the mission at hand,
as my heart and mind blend,
a meer refraction of its perfection shone on to me and made me meek.
it was then i realised, i was weak.
i know then that my pride as a hero will fall.
becasue i could trap its magnificence in a thousand prisons on a thousand walls.
and be known as the hero who captured the blazing fury.
but in truth, i am the king born a man, made humble by the suns Majesty.

10th march 2004

as i put pen to paper, this pen bleeds black.
in a deafening silence it screams my worries, my confessions and all that i lack.
i have given up. i choose the lesser of life now.
humbled no more by the mercy of God, my joy is the end of all sorrow, with a heavy head i bow.

my hands slither and tremble to have this decree done before i disappear.
yet i find such beauty as my tears soak the very words i scarred on this paper.
theses lines on my hands, are like my little medals, my trophy.
for the birth of every single on of them, puts me on a plain of ecstacy.

as ivory hearts bleed crimson blood, i pray not to God , but to you.
never give up lie i did.

the 14th storey has quite a view....

12th March 1980

In a baby’s breath, one can realise the length of a second.
Vast and great is time, yet we hang it on a mere wall, forgetting its greatness in grains of sand.
Against all odds, it lives forever, with every child born, with every shedded tear.
Nudging you to remember, that it is precious, so live life to the fullest, live it without fear.

Happy birthday
12th March 1980---


“The death of a man is grieved and last mere generations, but the legacy he leaves behind will stay as ancient as time.”
Shahrman Nair...

10th March 1988

May the truth be told that angels exist.
Amongst the spawns of Lucifer which creeps from the deep abyss.
Righteous, true and the strong stand rooted to their ground.
In hope that the lost, the hurt and the fallen know where faith can be found.
Such a conscience have this knights of the above carry, for the war they fight is with all your whims and worry.
So the hurt, the scarred and the fallen can walk thru path slithered by creatures eyes black as pearl.
And realise the name i have strung out of this decree, is a living breathing and forgiving angel.

happy birthday

10th March 1988-