Cluelessly i blankly glared at the snow white writing pad
  As my hand scribbled furiously
Back and forth my fingers moved the pen as it mercilessly tainted the paper
Ideas somersaulted in my skull
My time was limitless
As my pen tried to define my destiny
The scribbling noise was enough evidence that the two were glued in a mutual conversation
Ohhh what do i say
The pen spoke as it continued to *** the blue fluid
You are more than a mystery
The now colored paper replied
Neither could i explain nor understand
As ideas frothed from my recess deep in the core of my brain
Where creativity nested waiting for right moment to erupt like an active volcano
It takes more than thinking it needs focusing the climaxing pen breathed out
Am making a poet am creating a voice of reason
By jumbling alphabets and sometimes drawing blanks
I make words play on top of you
I smiled as it dawned to me i had an arsenal to fight this word war
Pen as my spear and the book my shield
With both i am a knight
A literature warrior
Who can unite intellectuals
And create a kingdom of creativity
Poetry is born

when words ran out in my mind
i had no job but just mind my business
for once my brain was free from the busyness thinking
i didnt know my talent was sinking
but i spent my entire time thinking
trying to be creative and atleast revive my passion
but days passed on
i didn't write

from left to right
fellow poets frowned with hunger
but all they got was the wrath of my anger
words had drained
i was about to be ruined
i could nolonger write
words were playind hide and seek

after long spell of silence i decided to seek
for help in books and art
to they father at heaven i prayed
give me back words
bring back poetry

  (dedication to all poets and poetry lovers )
[return of the poet]

SHE LABELED ME GAY
She labeled me a gay
Something that was not okay
Just because i pushed her away
And told her to get of my way
She labeled me gay though single
I refused to mingle
Nor let her wiggle
Her **** on my lap
She labelled me gay
Just because i wore short shorts
Yet i despised girls in short skirts
I preferred girls with long skirts
She labelled me gay
Because my voice had not broken
Yet her heart i had broken
From this untrue dream i had woken
She labelled me gay
Because my voice was smooth
Yet i refused to sooth
Her on a cellphone
I preffered a booth
She labelled me gay
Because i never called her bae
I called may
Afterall she was not mine
She labelled me gay
Every passing day
From monday to sunday
Even on my birthday

Dear my valentine
As my pen pours out pain
Bursting from deepest recess of my brain
My broken heart is bleeding tears
As my eyes are shedding blood
I now understand you don't love me
You really love hating me
I asked you "will you be my valentine?"
And your response made a part of crypt
Be deciphered
I now understand why you(U) and i (I)
Are not near each other in the alphabetical order
But NO N & O follow each other
Sticking with you i thought was so cool
But now i realize to you i was just a fool
You always wanted roses
I never knew you would use their thorns
To ***** my heart
To you i was not good looking
But you were good in looking how
Deep my pockets were
I was always faithful
But my efforts were unfruitful
You made me realize just how much poor
I was
A beggar of love
I dread seeing the red color
It doesn't represent lovers day
But broken hearts day
I have to put a full stop there because
The sheet is soaking red
Intensifying  my dull aching
Looking forward for your
Break up message
Because once again i have
Celebrated loneliness alone

         Crushed heart of
A love saturated poet
Kayvoh

in melancholic countenance
i gaze at the icon with impatience
me staring back at me in the mirror
wishing i had been sincerer
terse adage philosophy ring in my
mind
am caught between two stools stay or
hide,
guilt gnaws my conscience
nibbling away my mask of innocence
having made my bed i now had to lay
on it
tardy it was when i comprehended
having stature didn't requisitely
mean
my age was more propounded than my
dad's
but here i am today yowling over
spilled milk
growing up beneath my parent's
shadow
familiarity had sired contempt
and the spirit of adventure had me
convinced
the grass is invariably greener on the
other side of knoll
precipitately i plunged into the mucks
of this world
ceasing to recall the wise had
muttered
you can't fabricate bricks in omission
of straw
all i reflected was that fortunes
favors the bold
dauntlessly i ventured and swayed
away from morals
the world bountifully vouchsafed into
my disposal
bird who had corresponding feather
and together we flocked
as the hungry earth swallowed us in
it's pleasures
a fool i was to test the depth of water
with both feet
after the foolish ordeals remorse
ensued
i had the will to change and a way
could be found
i decided not to look at where i fell
but where i slipped
since i never wished to be that
simpleton
who gained ascertainment when
players dispersed
i couldn't dawdle no more or else
i would miss the water long after the
well dried
i became the squeaky wheel and sure
enough i was greased
though i plundered my life penitence
is not a solution
because you cant make an omellete
without breaking
a few eggs
sometimes going gets tough but tough
gets going
i learnt that
between the devil and the deep sea
discretion
is the best part of valor...
i live with the knowledge of the wise
men
illuminating my ways and checking on
my morals