Why is simplicity so hard to express?

Something so mundane reflects

In essence a sense of relief

Both for the poser and the belief

That words know no bounds

Yet still, words unsaid light up

Like thrills 



It’s only after seeing yourself

Through your own eyes
By that I mean; getting a mirror, sunlight reflecting
Your own reflection seen through your eyes
Then I say
Will you know the reason why? 

It’s only after the trail of your existence
Speeds farther and beyond 
Looking back to see; shadow, concrete ground
Silence and withdrawal of motion elapses
Then I say
Will you now then try?

It’s only after a burden of hardships
Too heavy and hung
The hot, damp, tears; not from the tongue
Or even your eyes; soulfully from the heart
It derives
Then I say
Will you learn not to defy?

Posed in ice

October’s diligent renewal of decay; barren oak and maple trees, chilled water bodies naturally hardened like cold-heart’s, and our favorite massive white teddy bears curfews reinstated.

 Chloe mumbled an unintelligible invocation “…….carve………forsaken………astray”. With only the passing wistful wind, and nature (including the gnomes, superstitious as she was), a comatose urge to relish in her seclusion gripped her tight.

Meaningless mindfulness

Something always masquerades

The view

It can’t be helped or run

Thought thoughts over you

Guilty pleasures sewn undone

Like a backhanded tailor 

Minus the luck or fun

A state of mimicry; interludes

Who am I to question this?

Euphoria spills splatters

Red, black, and blue

Senseless of perpetuity

On our morals we piss

We calibrate others; quite pedestrian

And somehow bemuse the ruse within

An anectode of fearless judgement begins

“Let him take the fall”, Karma’s ambience 

Its an angel out of hell, they said

What’s an oxymoron to depth, reject?


​Time stands still, irrevocably

This time; between seconds

Rectify our loss, redeem it
In some third person dialect
Chance catapults chances
Like birds leap trees 

I believe
A thought unwoven berates

As thoughtfully as dust

Just because…

Nostalgic reveries spew
Father time’s split side
I can’t trust myself
Like a bastard in love

Simplicity is hard to express
Expect that, Except that’s not always the case
Sometimes something so relatable
Speaks volumes till it’s too late

Victory city

There’s an antiquity that binds this city

An age old right; like victors claiming thrones

It’s a mystic reminiscent of a more refined wake

Where the goldenrod flares shade lifetimes

Where the balcony fade’s hint welcome

Callously a man journeys on

Past the “essence”, دوام الحال من المحال