Obbligato

A sequel to Art Burglar. This one’s dedicated to Maya Angelou, Walt Whitman, Arthur Conan Doyle, John Keats, all the giants of the past, but is most importantly dedicated to….YOU. Yes, YOU, the one reading this right now. This one’s for you.

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When My Girlfriend Satires Me

It seems that my love for metaphors and surrealism in my art may not have the necessary clarity required for a Spoken Word performance. Even more of a problem is that this inability to express myself wanders into my everyday interactions with people as well, where I’m unable to properly express my mind, or end up giving people wrong impressions about me. I’ve often prided myself for being a circular thinker, but it seems to take some skill to translate those circular thoughts is linear linguistic formats.

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The Chicken and the Road

Why did the chicken cross the road?
It did not.

There IS no other side.
Is there any place to hide
From the doubts of within
That makes our head spin?

I wish I could Pin-
Point that one voice from the din
That encourages me on
To the road of a new dawn.

Polar Detective — Prologue

When a famous business tycoon Rudolf Rednose orders a vastly expensive and rare plate of Sushi, he probably never thought he’d be a target of a sinister crime. But why burgle the little place of Wallace Walrus to begin with?

Perhaps the mystery goes deeper, and may cross roads with a notorious criminal wanted for food thefts.

A grand game is afoot. Stay tuned!

Doleful Spring (Part 1 translation of Jashn-E-Bahaara)

A practice translation of the song Jashn-E-Bahaara (and I may have changed plenty of things due to stylistic experiments). This part consists only of the first choruses.

—————————————————————

They talk that spring’s celebration comes;
But love bewildered, pondering hums
Why sullen scents flee from roses frail.
Some grief lies unseen in verdure’s veil…

When every sight blurs in fearful weep,
Where time itself has fallen asleep,
There you’ll find memories lost
In heart’s own caverns deep.

They talk that spring’s celebration comes;
But love bewildered, pondering hums
Why sullen scents flee from roses frail.
Some grief lies unseen in verdure’s veil…

(Cinquain) Power of Art

A double American Cinquain this time. 

——————–

I stand

Still brave and strong

To face my fate, in hope

My pen creates a world where you

Can rise.

 

With art,

Skywards dreaming,

We grow new wings and fly.

Ourselves we’ll find,  in hearts and mind,

Reborn!