Be the wind that shakes off leaf
Or be the leaf and fall
Or be the stalwart steady tree
That stands to see it all.
Word, like wind, cuts through you / Withers all but true you
Khalid Mukhtar · ·
Be the wind that shakes off leaf
Or be the leaf and fall
Or be the stalwart steady tree
That stands to see it all.
Khalid Mukhtar · ·
Reason keeps you out
To follow your heart you must
Just go intuit
Khalid Mukhtar · ·
You’ve got your way of doing things
The more you rest, the more it stings
You’ve seen it all before a hundred times
You’ve loved all sorts of folk there are
You’ve written songs and traveled far
You’ve forced the meter into empty rhymes
It’s lost down in the darkness there
Where frosty shoulders chill the air
It’s warmer to look for it in the sun
They’ve looked before you too, my friend
There’s nothing out there in the end
This quest is nowhere near being done
The seeker and the found must become one
Khalid Mukhtar · ·
I know, little one, your fear is real
You’ve heard the screams and you’ve seen the pain
The cuts are deep, no time to heal
For the wolves are hot on your scent again.
Lady with child, babe to your breast
You’ve lost your love and you’ve missed the train
You find the shade but no time to rest
For the wolves are hot on your scent again.
Your tears have dried on the face of your bride
In her shallow grave on a grassy plain
Have to save that kiss for the other side
For the wolves are hot on your scent again.
Too old to run, too weak to walk
Everything they burned lives on in your brain
You can tell your tales, but you’ll break the clock
For the wolves are hot on your scent again.
Get drunk, my dear, on this patience sweet
Time is dead; it’s time for the truth to play
Let the dew on the meadow wash your feet
As the angels hunt and the wolves are prey.
Featured image courtesy BBC >> http://www.bbc.com/news/world-asia-41585864
Khalid Mukhtar · ·
Everything
Set against the flow of all we bring
But there is no stopping what may spring
From hearts that beat together.
Khalid Mukhtar · ·
With permission from the talented Ibn Turab. Here’s one of his very many ramblings.
A long, long time ago, I realized
That for most of my life
I had just been an idiot
Traveling through life
Incognito.
When I made the discovery, I decided
To stop and just be what I am.
That has not gone down well with anyone
And now I am up the creek without a paddle.
So be warned: I am about to explode
Once again
On the floor of your life
Like a clumsily dropped
and wildly shattering bottle
– A big, big, BIG bottle –
Of smelly marinara sauce
Way, waaaaay past its sell-by date.
Khalid Mukhtar · ·
Stroke your chin, touch your nose
Rub your forehead in repose
Doesn’t matter that there’s nothing on your mind
Let them see how you “think”
Even sighing as you blink
You may also shake your head from time to time
If it needs more gravitas
Stand the hell up, show some class
Clasp your hands behind your back and pace about
Say it helps you ruminate
Then adopt a painful gait
(Nothing like the need to pace despite the gout)
Fake it dead or alive
All the way from nine to five
Let your guard down for a second and you die
You’re the actor no one knows
Oscar-worthy for the shows
That you put up as you live the greatest lie
Khalid Mukhtar · ·
I’ve got no words to say
I have no song to sing
Just full of emptiness
In spite of everything
Now there’s a name like honey
That lingers on my breath
To sweeten my pathetic
Remembrances of death
I rush to stop the rushing
It’s time I slowed up now
My plans will gather slowly
Altogether like a cloud
I know the rains will come
Just when the time is right
Till then I’ll work and wait
Everything will be all right
I’ve got no words to say
I have no song to sing
Everything will be all right
Everything
Everything
Khalid Mukhtar · ·
Of all the cars that make this train
I had to pick the one
With broken air conditioning
Beneath a gloating sun.
The car feels like a furnace now,
The window’s out of bounds
Though all this heat must surely beat
Emergencies around.
It’s true we’re free to leave this car
And amble over where
The air is cooler than the folks
Who don’t see that it’s there.
But here among the grumbling few
Inertia is king;
We sit and fume and fret to feel
The perspiration spring.
On brows we thought reserved for palms
And wrinkles wrought in lead
By hands advancing time reminding us
That Tuesday’s dead.
But there’s a hidden mercy here
That warns a heedless heart,
One wont to stay when wisdom lies
In choosing to depart.
Khalid Mukhtar · ·
the mass of information
the gravity of knowledge
the weight of intelligence
and the buoyancy of wisdom