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	chizryan
	PROFIL O autorze Przyjaciele (1) Poezja (8) Proza (6)

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chizryan, 4 lutego 2012

The Elopement

with our fingers knitted into one
like a cracked verse
we stood in the space
between elegy and romance
our movement, irregular
like a rhythm unfamiliar
we stepped into dark uncharted waters
our shadows cast behind our lingering hearts
and chasing furtively
like the wings of dark angels

the sun succumbed
to the gloom of our inner tempos
our only source of light
was the curious desire to rise
from our eyes and
setting on this unfamiliar void

we were like two cubs barnished
from their only pride
torn, forlorn, finding a destination
for our journey's formation
it was a voyage to unearth
this nascent place of rebirth
a place where no other mind
will ever tread to find

but we had us
we had us to lift
the weight of inertia from our feet
and moved with the instinct
of our emotions
our emotions, the path on
on which we trailed along
ignorant of what lay ahead
on that solitary road

suddenly, like the big bang
we broke free from the shackle of loves bind
onto that land of our emotional certainty
and the treasures of vanity

the destination of such
was the love and affection to clutch
finally finding solitary solace
in the warmth of our holy embrace

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chizryan, 18 stycznia 2012

Even a City Dares to Dream

As aurora spreads her influence lazily
across the scattered skies
she hatches first
the wingless flicker of hope
breaking free from the throes of dusk
that bears heavily upon the straws
that shields despondency
from waning hearts

she perches coyly
on this caked art of clay
casting a mirage
upon her tar-less back
with sun scorched patterns
like the fading presence of a rainbow

she is not like the city of heaven
paved with bars of fine gold
or sicily, tarred with crispy bitumen
but she also bears the dream
within the enclave of her bossom
the dream of different shades
and shapes of forging forms
amidst the victims and victors
of life's raging storms

in her unfettered generosity
she opens up the endless doors of hope
even the dream
bids her no farewells or adulations
but in her forgiving endurance
morphs fortuity, a certainty

she desparately adorns the garters of hope
around her failing loins
craving that one auspicious day
within the hustle and bustle of busy minds
she can be given a name
a name to fame

even a city hopes
and dreams that someday
she too would find a setting
amidst life's slopes.

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chizryan, 18 stycznia 2012

The Jealous Woman (For The Eye That Has Any Useless Time To Behold)

the jealous woman
woe to who finds her
the epitome of rife
she cuddles cynicism and vitriol
harbors a plague between her thighs
and cheap venom between her teeth
and lives to lose again

the jealous woman
her jealousy knows no bounds
beauty finds no solace in her being
innocence cowers in fear at her presence
intelligence find residence multilple doors away
wisdom is her pariah

the jealous woman
reasoning is her time wasted
her strides, a tale for whores
life in her presence is a constant diarrhoea
what sore wonder, the ribs from which she is made
she yearns for a tale
a tale averse to her nature
and losing always by ''the skin of her teeth''

but obviously above all
she is worth less than a fadden

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chizryan, 3 stycznia 2012

LIFE

living in full existence
what is life?
some moments of laughter
the euphoria of existing
those times when three wishes
wished unending
when companionship is
the tool for growth
when the number two is needed
for a work preceeded
when those words come free flowing and

-suddenly a bridge-

when an opportunity to say goodbye
never comes
when across the line
a helping hand is benign
when loved ones go senile
and the heart is torn in shreds
without amendment in all life's treads
when those free flowing words
become arid
and mixed helping hands amidst
when the clock strikes nine
and affection, nowhere to find
when the doorbell brings no surprises
and the car honk a stranger's cause

Tomorrow
what does thou hold
will thou turn my object of cause
will my wound tomorrow heal
and my sorrow seal
will those words flow like the stream
and once more from life have a gleam

a race with life's characters
will i no more matter
will i stumble by one of life's hitches
if by favour i have its riches
which will make me wanton's joy
and not halloween's coy
will it the vacuum filled by air
and once more affection stir
will that lurking stranger
become my hanger
and twilight's princess
become my incense

OR

do i say those words barring a couple

2001

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chizryan, 3 stycznia 2012

Moment (Time)

In the moment
That VOICE, ‘roll out the drums’
And we ask in our subdued still voice
is it time to roll out the drums
Who is the dance
And who is the dancer
Is it your time to dance
Or to be danced.

The music, novel
But to our nature, familiar
We know but do not know
The rhythm but the lyrics
We feel it but deny
The shiver it sends down our being

In that moment
In that tranquil moment
When everyone veers from tranquility
We are scared of what we finally become

For every single time we ask
‘what is the time’
We ask the time
We wish to be the teller rather than the tale
The mourner and not the mourned
And we choose to ignore
That for every tick and click
We come close to the nick of it

We all wish to believe
And all believe to wish
Oh! Fate, dear faith
This moment
Just let us choose the rhythm

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chizryan, 1 stycznia 2012

Tale of A Schizophrenic

I see am in the corner of my eye
Astonished, apathetic, bewildered, and relaxed
It’s another day
I search through my minds relics
To catch a glimpse of am
Am sees me as I see am
Unable to discern our intentions distinctly

But I see am in the corner of my eye
Together, we reel out -experiences and expressions
acclaim and abuse
defining am as best as we could
I chatter away, am listens
am chatters away, I listen
we chatter away to a noise
we listen to a silence
and then, we establish a dialogue
finding every true nexus but no real connection

I see am even in the murkiest of moments
in the corner of my eye
I curse and cut, blame and burst
then I find our converse
he listens still and STILL
motionless, displaying no be emotions
I question and tease, but am tosses
an imaginary silent expression
a frown or scowl? A scorn or smirk?
Am forbid discern

But I still see am in the corner of my eye
Am shares my thought and sight, my dread and dream,
But shy of my pangs and pursuits, my prick and pain

But I see am in the corner of my eye
Am not conjoined
Is am my ever present companion
I ponder he ponders
I pause he pauses
I want alone-
But there, there, there lies we predicament
Am never leaves just like me member

I see am in the corner of my eyes
I shush, he talks
I shoo, he continues

I still see am in the corner of my eye
Is am my ever present companion
I’m shy of his form and feel, his falter and faith
His glimpse and glide, his trust and touch

I see am in the corner of my eye
Through that invisible spectrum
Of blue and gray, white and black?
A clash of colours, then a blend of none.

Do I really see am in the corner of my eye
As Obsessive and possessive,
yet destitute of emotions
As vocal and visible,
still devoid of form

do I cede am in the corner of my eye
What may determine
the loose that we desire
I rid me of am or am rids me of I
I ignore am or am ignores I

even though I still see am in the corner of my eye
I choose to see
the sight of such
and the site of such
is such a sight

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chizryan, 1 stycznia 2012

ghosts of a troubled world

The ghost of hate, the ghost of existence
On ‘you’- on the other side of the spectrum
It’s me, its you, it’s being
He looks and loathes, then lips then lies
On the corner of his face
He makes a wry
Churning truth and troll
Clinging onto the clear with an opaque bloodiness
Drifting to and from both ends of his wits
To capture in a foil
Pure plight and pursuit

The ghost of power
In between the digit of his penning
He weaves the will of his minions to his desired design
He speaks and spurns, you speak he strikes
Taming trust and tide
Within the circle of his desperation
lurking to cap the sign of an uprising.
Holding on to a future that is not,
With a fragile grasp that is short
And the grip of his cronies.

The ghost of greed
Turning a blind look to their dearth
Drowning in their spoils
With liberating mirage promises
In velvety silk words
And a borrowed speech
alien to his confidence
He mortgages their conscience to a lie
For a clueless time period
On a piny piece of parchment

The ghost of corruption
He soils his grasp
With their throes
To fill his gorge
Quenching his furnace of truth (conscience)
With a stained flow of brashness
Ridiculing right at the purchase of a bite

The ghost of poverty
Ash looks, pale minds
Wrinkled lines running through
Where she once flowed
Lifeless, loveless and
With a face of obscurity and unsurety
Her boughs boast of no return
Arid to the point of tearlessness
Her breasts, the sole of a fish
Dangling, drooping, but not dripping
Not one of sure strength
But of the winds and waves of blank hope
Once a source but now a curse
A victim of a struggle
A struggle without a name definite

The ghost of strife
Dark and gloomy in a rusty atmosphere
Blood and bones adorn the plains
As rustling and rattling crawl down the mountains
He wears that valour just to keep a-pace
With diligent strides in lazy days
Breaking in clasped palms
For a convene and a deal
From all ends of the table
To shed the colours of forlorn fear
Pain and disease, lack and loss

The ghost of death
It’s of fatality and finality
Spells of the end,
The end of spells
Like an ominous sign
The ghost of all
and all that was

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chizryan, 1 stycznia 2012

cry of the western sun

In the tranquil of a moment
I hear the flutter
The flutter of my heart beat
Irregular
As altercations and cacophony
This time
Not arrhythmia’s coin
But my burning passion
Rising from the embers of my emotion

It leaves inside of me
But open to an outside theme
For a touch to quench my feel

With an upsurge through my eyes
To find its match
And flicking through life’s pages
To strike a deal
With patches of history
And my heart’s own mystery
As I tread the evening sky
In search of a southern star
Hoping for a crystal night
So from afar
My plight is bright

But the star I find
In the abode of the night is
But a stranger to my picture frame
Where history comes
To recast its ugly shadow
Over a lover’s plight

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Pozostałe wiersze: The Elopement, Even a City Dares to Dream, The Jealous Woman (For The Eye That Has Any Useless Time To Behold), LIFE, Moment (Time), Tale of A Schizophrenic, ghosts of a troubled world, cry of the western sun,

Najnowsze prace:

Poezja

The Elopement

Even a City Dares to Dream

The Jealous Woman (For The Eye That Has Any Useless Time To Behold)

LIFE

Moment (Time)

Tale of A Schizophrenic

ghosts of a troubled world

cry of the western sun

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