Moahammad Maleki Poems

Arrows of poverty darting from throes
Thorns of destitution germinating from thrones

Flood of orphans sprouting on ghettos of misery
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There is a sound within my soul portending a long night of inner-tumult
There is a sound rising from the very compartment of my body
Devouring sanity of logic like a covetous scavenger chewing its victim
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Last night clock stroked 9: 33
Death knocked the door of my isolated room
As if shrouded around a long dark veil
His guise was hidden behind a dull barrier
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Faint light made its way through the slightest rip in
Penetrated deep into sheer gloomy
Fragmented shards of darkness scattering on floor
Oh, asymmetrical look on stagnant floor boding catastrophe for future
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he was drowned in the ocean of burned and dry leaves in the jungle of nothing in nowhere

when he got up he noticed a tattered and shabby shackle in distance
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I am not like other people

I have my maddness, my labyrinth twists, my curiocity
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Gloomy, duller than dull, vapid class

Full of reek
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He is alone

Ceded to destination
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When I go to crowds

I can find a bunch of nothing
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