Tell me something that counts

I will tell you something that counts

I think of you when things are well and when things are... (listen!)

when we two parted in hopelessness  and vain

I turned around       moaning     missing 

how could I not       like it or not

it was the best of times      it was the worst of times

talking of Michelangelo and being in Thai a pro

yes that was long ago - yes the memories still come and go

in the midst of all I saw the world in your sm(eye)le

and spring and summer and fall

infinity in the way you looked like home

(I must've wrote a hundred poems on the way you felt like home)

the way you looked sat all alone

how many secrets can you keep? 

(I wrote to you a dozen poems and read them on repeat) 

if there were no you how could poetry exist

(if there were no people like you how dare art exist)

a little lover always said

you're never forgotten once a poet writes for you

my gentle precious friend poetry was made for you

now what

you are not gone      never can it be

December is the cruelest month 

never! never can that be

dare not leave here       come let us plant a tree

come in under the shadow of our tree

I will offer you love in a handful of mud

(I will show you the world in a handful of mud)

Be my road, my sea and sky

I adore the sky with its unravelling secrets and scars

yielding stars as much as she loves and much as she cries

and you are a sky full of stars

a sky that blossoms and a sky that's living

with tenderness and care

ever present with a breeze of fresh air

lead me to the sky again

I adore the sea in its wrath and its quivers 

like you it moves me with shivers

a spring crazy, outraging, at times            quiet

I adore it all

its mysteriosity and its sprawl

minus the days I can't sail in it

Lead me to the sailing boat again

Oh and the road I adore the road

reminiscing of our earliest encounter  

and our earnest laughter      our hearty banter

faster

lead me to the road again

planted out of longing a rose 

and I am no planter

but the anticipation            the degree of separation 

cultivated love and a rose

and they are yet in bloom

just lead me to the road again

Do you like the beginning? I do

Consider these first lines from 10 great classics I've personally enjoyed. Without context, these lines do not give away any details about the plot. In other words, they don't qualify to be spoilers. That being said, proceed with no worries :)

Charles Dickens, A Tale of Two Cities

"It was the best of times, it was the worst of times."

Jane Austen, Pride and Prejudice

"It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife." 

Willa Cather, My Antonia 

"I first heard of Antonia on what seemed to me an interminable journey across the great midland plain of North America." 

John Steinbeck, Once There Was a War

"Somewhere in England, June 20, 1943--The troops in their thousands sit on their equipment on the dock. It is evening, and the first of the dimout lights come on. The men wear their helmets, which make them all look alike, make them look like long rows of mushrooms. Their rifles are leaning against their knees. They have no identity, no personality. The men are units in an army." 

 E.M. Forster, A Room with a View

" 'The signora had no business to do it,' said Miss Bartlett, 'no business at all. She promised us south rooms with a view, close together, instead of which here are north rooms, here are north rooms, looking into a courtyard, and a long way apart..."

Sylvia Plath, The Bell Jar

"It was a queer, sultry summer, the summer they electrocuted the Rosenbergs, and I didn't know what I was doing in New York. I'm stupid about executions. The idea of being electrocuted makes me sick, and that's all there was to read about in the papers - goggle-eyed headlines staring up at me on every street corner and at the fusty, peanut-smelling mouth of every subway. It had nothing to do with me, but I couldn't help wondering what it would be like, being burned alive all along your nerves. I thought it must be the worst thing in the world." 

Franz Kafka, The Metamorphosis 

"When Gregor Samsa woke up one morning from unsettling dreams, he found himself changed in his bed into a monstrous vermin."

Harper Lee, To Kill a Mockingbird 

"When he was nearly thirteen, my brother Jem got his arm badly broken at the elbow. When it healed, and Jem's fear of never being able to play football were assuaged, he was seldom self-conscious about his injury." 

Charlotte Bronte, Villette

"My godmother lived in a handsome house in the clean and ancient town of Bretton. Her husband's family had been residents there for generations, and bore, indeed, the name of their birthplace--Bretton of Bretton: whether by coincidence, or because some remote ancestor had been a personage of sufficient importance to leave his name to his neighborhood, I know not."

Albert Camus, The Plague

"The unusual events described in this chronicle occurred in 194- at Oran. Everyone agreed that, considering their somewhat extraordinary character, they were out of place there.”

Song of Exile

What is this mess, this cuss, this fuss

what bombed the new year...once full of hopes and bliss

not a month through, the epidemic battle blew

and put everybody exile

 

lovers separated from others      shut the gate

quarantined patients hovered     fortune or                                             fate

and the wait prolongs…

with despair and sad old songs

what patience befits the desire to reunite

or the wish to fully recover

still       the wait prolongs

 

I miss you     that is all they feel

I miss you     that is all they say

I am hoping to see you again one day

 

now they knew

what they strive for and want to attain

human connection—sincere affection

they were nothing without it    hopeless   empty

and in pain of exile they grew

Dad, Hero

He's my father

my best friend

An Arabian blend

Don't bother

he's amazing

start gazing

he's a star

A radical 

political

singular enthusiast 

out of a bell jar

not a member of a party 

No he's not

He's an individual

He hit the jack pot

It's his luck

he won a duck

fuck

He's a leader

a speeder

an exceed-er

he drives like crazy

although it's hazy

he naps while driving

his car on auto-pilot

He's an author

a teacher

sometimes preacher

an angle sent 

in the form of a creature

a talker

Oh he's a lot much more

than just a walker

He's a savior

 a hero

my savior

my dad

my hero