Dear Sir: To you who it may concern;

Reference: Water Lilly

Should you choose to read about my private affairs,

These are not my secret rhymes these are my lonesome prayers.

The first cut was deeper than this wound you  slashed across my nape,

Now I do bleed within this fire – though I may bleed in muted rage,

Oh how I do wish this bloody ambush would burn me into an early grave.

For when this passion lit up my loins, my soul, my nights, my days,

You remained untouched by music that set my life ablaze!

And since I’ve scoured the earth and seen a thing more than 10×2,

I vouchsafe Sir, to teach you more about the world that’s left me blue.

Though you may insist you know me better – but I may never know you,

But I vouchsafe Sir, I know myself better than you may never know who!

So read on Dear Sir, should you dare to read what I deem to be the truth…


Whilst blasphemy – my biggest sin – transformed me into a saint,

Through heresy I lost my religion – which gave me back my faith.

T’was then that I declared all of my mistakes – confessed all of my disgrace,

T’was then I fell upon my knees – began to weep and pray;

“My dear Lord, if this is what you do desire, then I do except my fate!”


Whilst all the while – you Dear Sir- you did avert your gaze,

You lay by the pond – looked upon yourself – became amazed,

You cried out to the water “Do not despise me in this way,

For I am the only lonely one, whom they all do love in vain!”

Without recognizing this picture of perfection…

Why, you did fall in love with your own reflection,

And ever since, you have become a Water Lilly of self obsession,

I am but your echo or else silent in any other kind of expression,

Yes, I am the master (not of myself) but of my own self destruction,

I have become nothing more than the repercussion of your addiction.

And in my yearning only I know who I am and who I am alone,

For ‘We’ are Two who come as One, but ‘You’ and ‘I’ are on our own.

Though I used to live all by myself before you took me into your home,

Only God knows how I feel when I lay by your side a stranger who is unknown…

(…Alone…Alone…Alone…)

Well maybe loneliness is a gift from God – for who is he, to whom joy is well conveyed?

Or maybe I am lost and loneliness is just my imaginary maze,

And you let me torture myself because we are both stuck in our own ways,

But how long can we forgive each other for the way that you and I behave?

It is this hollow which makes me raise my hands to the sky and cry,

“I beg you dear Lord, tell me when will I be satisfied?

When it’s not your absence but your presence that veils my eyes,

Yes I know he is only human, yet it feels like it’s You, who lives by my side,

But only death can bring us closer so I pray that I may die,

For if my love is near me, then why do I sit here in disguise?”

Should any of the above concern you Dear Sir,

Having read about my private thoughts and learnt about my craze,

Remember I do not share my secret rhymes, I share with you my prayers!

Should you wish to discuss anything further or to throw my love away…

I wish you ten thousand sleepless nights and uneasy days.


Yours Sincerely,


Ms Helplessly Confused and Dazed.

]]> http://thecupoverflows.com/2009/08/31/reference-water-lilly/feed/ 2 phosphorescence1001 http://thecupoverflows.com/2008/11/04/twenty-nine-white-pearls/ http://thecupoverflows.com/2008/11/04/twenty-nine-white-pearls/#comments Tue, 04 Nov 2008 23:43:15 +0000 Najma http://phosphorescence1001.wordpress.com/?p=194 ]]>

Oh how I feel like a saxophone blues floozy,

Swimming in sparkling chardonnay Jacuzzi,

The sweetness of sin must be coloured a strawberry,

For your lips to appear as they do before me,

Craving forest fruits and wild black cherry,

You become intoxicated from my dazzling glass,

But enchanted garden I beg you let it pass!

Oh my beauty, bare not your flesh and beauty,

For I promise those lips wont be the first or last;

To test and taste my overflowing faith this fast.

Though I shake the chalice – I make it bubble and boil,

The champagne ocean tipples and toys with trouble and toil,

Just to see the oyster reveal its twenty-nine precious pearls…

Rid me tradition, of your rituals routine glory,

In defence your expectance exempts me from independence,

Therefore tomorrow will be spent in defiant waste,

Uncertainly for I do repent, my farther and fore did make mistakes

And within the meantime in riots their children were betrayed!

Lamenting is the land its roots and all fruits from human toil,

Silver is the thread of tradition spun to warrant man his share of soil,

And affected are the sons of Adam whose blood must flow after it does boil.

Never does he fear the flash of lightening when it does fall and burn,

Determined by the reason for existence his self he exerts,

This display of pride separates him form his brothers side,

Riots persist the peoples party resists, against all of mans lies.

Anoint this war traditions cause and mans decline,

Disbelief or strong belief means nothing to the end of sin or crime,

Inevitably- for I am the seed my father in my mother did sow,

This defiance can never change what of myself I already know,

It is the weight of these airs and graces that I bear with shame,

On and on tradition is spun until better sons I am able to raise,

No, none the wiser am I, that to my boy I will explain,

Selfish desire of my heritage I wish for him to claim.

In Thorns Entwined

Bombarded by the cities choice of faces,

Along the streets of sex, genders and races,

The scary stilt skin giants, the lanky jokers,

Creepy clowns with masks, tobacco grime smokers.

I turned away from the chimps and the crowd afar,

Screeching and swinging skilfully on monkey bars…

Gave credence to the thought that I could evade,

This entire circus which had my soul betrayed…

As I felt the urge increase – as I felt it bleed,

My heart full of needles was thrown at His feet…

I had searched for funfairs but had reached defeat!

What I had seen was sufficient enough to suffice,

This life, this love, this death and all its strife,

Pursued so much… but then again…enough is never enough,

When insatiable desire was – still is – addicted to pure love?

Longing for silent tranquillity…

…Until the seen became unseen,

I saw the path, the way to peace

When reason became obscene…

A glade appeared from beyond the view,

I entered through to this avenue

And walked into a forest multi coloured in bloom

With prickling nettles, tall fern and fallen trunks,

Here the floral wilderness of spring sprang and sprung.

I climbed up the hill towards the protected gates,

To sit and rest under the trees and their shade,

But a strange force…A Pull…A Push of Gravity,

Inclined from up above and declined beneath me…

This spirit of the forest and this frosty reception,

It tarried me towards my homely grave and obsession…

What could I do but walk further into the shrubbery deep,

Until my feet ached so much they longed to sleep,

I walked and walked but still I found no peace,

Neither could I see the piece of the same path,

That I had followed – as it disappeared to my relief …

* * *

* * *

But now to my aching feet’s disbelieve – for they had reached

A thorny bush grown to the size for only butterflies to breeze,

Here was a site – a spiky sight – a solitary retreat!

The nettles thorns and thistle had grown so tall,

I could not see how far they spread, to where they sprawled?

But I could not turn back into that offending plain,

For any worthy journey is either humble or vain…

“Prod on…” The forest cried “And endure the pain’

So I so slightly pressed into the edgy hedge plain,

They tingled my flesh and tickled my soul,

They begged me “Darling, do come in for more…”

This prickling tantalising bush enticed me in,

So further deep I dived squealing and squiring,

Shrieking as the needles and thistles pierced my skin.

With heroic thoughts terror and bravery

Searching for freedom away from slavery,

I pushed further into what seemed within oblivion,

My heart in the jaws of defeat and deliverance.

I scolded myself to hold down the pain whilst I bled,

The poison upon the path I chose to stride and step,

My white skirt corrupted bearing the stains of blood,

The colour as a bud blooms into the rose of love,

I blossomed with the scars encrusted from the past,

And emerged from the cruel bush of stabbing barb,

Wearing a crown of sharp debris made to last.

I arrived at last to the end of the trail,

I had left behind and there in between,

I was trapped within a landscape of a hill slide

- Below and above a slope of trees,

Ahead there came to light unto another passage unseen…

Disbelieved when I perceived, the path ahead that lay displayed,

There prevailed the next task, bestowed upon this escapade…

A shrub of raw violence…

A natural force that push’s,

Through the earth to bear in silence,

What sight beheld me – but a strikingly brutal bush!

So this is what becomes of the desperately curios,

To be caught amidst the free, feral and furious,

Then torn from limb to limb, in a test of endurance?

Still I could not turn back through the past – I trod and passed away

So I travelled further along to die, upon the route that I had lost my way,

“Is this what I sought for my heavenly sanctuary?” I cried out in pain,

“Where are you my love, when you are closer than my jugular vein?

I came to this place I thought you would be here,

But instead you bring me to my knees in fear?

Is this how you show your jealousy to your lover?

When she is alone with you and has kept with no other?

Now if you are my friend then help me to endure this wretched pain,

And if I should die in this jungle let me die saying your name,

I swear my Love to you and dance upon the thorns in your garden,

Forgive me this, my frenzied bliss, fevering pretences ardent!”

My eyes bulging like big balloons, I begin to lick my wounds,

A dry mouth panting and body sweating like a beastly fool,

Like a wise buffoon, as light as an ant and as loyal as a dog,

I run down this path reaching my end and back against all odds,

I have survived and died survived again a thousand times,

For just one glimpse or a glimmer of the Ghostly Guide,

Who knew I had to sacrifice my pride,

Before I became again in Loves thorns entwined.

]]> http://thecupoverflows.com/2008/08/11/in-thorns-entwined/feed/ 1 phosphorescence1001 http://thecupoverflows.com/2008/08/04/lost-friend/ http://thecupoverflows.com/2008/08/04/lost-friend/#comments Mon, 04 Aug 2008 22:54:41 +0000 Najma http://phosphorescence1001.wordpress.com/?p=168 ]]>

Lost Friend

I have reached and climaxed in the final act,

Upon this stage where fiction imitates my life for fact,

I know I am – yet I know – that I am not,

Maybe I am the star the astronomer forgot,

I am the light that burns by the sunlight of day,

And then again at night, when I kneel down to pray;

Yes it is true I spend all of my time alone,

And Yes – I have lost my senses since He left home,

And oh how I would do most anything – Yet I do nothing at all!

How can I occupy my time, with the ways of the vacant?

Who search for freedom, in fickle insignificance?

Who cannot sustain a thought for longer than a second?

Tell me of what they will know, of the pain I have suffered?

Crushing and craving with memories of Him,

When He is further than my finger to the dimple in His chin,

The world is within its boudoir of starry chambers,

Alike all the planets as Earths charming neighbours,

For He whom the Galaxies, the Universe; to Whom I and Love belong…

My obsessions, my sins are neither an atom nor a bomb,

Yet love’s mysteries have been absorbed by my intelligence,

Which persists to test my Freedom, Strength, Reason and Patience.

Each night my friend I travel further than this earth,

To meet my Friend’s soul upon the Astral hearth,

My dear friend, I feel Him near,

And say His name for all the world to hear,

The vibrating air sighs to say, how drunk we both are,

For the universe to have folded and revealed its heart,

For our intoxication to have sought this very far?!

But these ways are not ways of this world,

For all the Drunkards here residing – whom I know,

Are all stingy with the vine they grow,

So it is better to have an absent friend I find,

Preoccupied with things that satisfy their mind,

Yes It is better to have -Than to not have – too tight a hold,

When all your friend’s keep all their door’s firmly closed!

How do you think it weather’s in another’s life,

With days of friends and friends of friends – spend them at your side,

Watching by and by all of recent times and how they fly,

Bid me fare thee well my friend and friends of friends – goodbye and bye!

But before I go tell me good friends – why should I pretend,

When I know where good friendship begins and where it ends?

It is not visible in this invisible world You and I see,

Where You and I are One there is no I in We.

It begins where I end, and You begin again,

When You and I are free – I promise You, We will be friends!

Nothing Comes from Noting…

You are nothing like the love I left in Rome,

Who I set free as so far away wild to roam,

I myself, I withered from my Monkey throne,

And wondered in the jungle where hyena’s home.

Now to the truth- if truth be known- still I know too little,

But that my faith is worth dust – neither a farthing nor nickel,

The truth is, sunshine shines, inside my belly,

I feed myself, my love, my lonely Nelly,

I know not the truth, from fact or fiction,

All I know is that I have more than one addiction,

I sum my life, a bag of bones and bugs so lazy,

I slept on my throne, a bed of thorns and daisies,

But still adultery is whatever you bite into your heart,

If your love is dirty, there will be no purity in your art!

Though love is cheap unlike the art of love making -

But if it cracks the hearts of glass

- Who can perfect the art of their heart breaking?

When in this world – this golden lake of nothingness,

I exist in nothing more than God can Bless,

If he created all this bliss and called it nothingness,

Then why much more than this of myself can I express,

Of what I seem to call my God forsaken existence?

For Gods sake, what is Self, and self sacrifice,

When I live not in Me yet my life does suffice?

Then where does the Self draw the line,

Between the Sane and Insanity?

For I love myself, but I know myself – she does not love me!

This curiosity will be the death of my eloquence,

Because the only negligence in this world ,

Is the language of our intelligence!

But please pardon me, as once again I persist…

I am nothing; in nothingness do I exist,

In every passing moment of inertia and bliss,

The empty echo of every passing hour flickers away,

I cannot recall how fast nothing unfolds my days,

And within this gassy concoction of elements,

There again whips the crack- Yes the restraint of my emotions,

Though I try hard not to slip or slack…

Nothing comes from nothing – it’s always tit for tat!

I fight with nothingness to save my pride,

A high price to pay for my life in demise,

With nothing left I realise it’s too late to be free,

My love annihilated my existence before nothingness took me!

Memories of a hundred broken butterflies,

Symmetrically divided and fell from the sky,

Their colour stained all hands, feet and faces,

Splashed pulse and flicker amongst all the races.

Upon such a day on our fresh green fields,

A butterfly flew far away from shelter to heal,

She fell asleep amongst the cocoon of corpses,

For she had seen such obscene places.

She had eaten fruit from a tree peculiar,

That grows within the heart of a town in danger,

Became torn out like a book from the pages of existence,

When there was much persistence

Within the sadomasochistic missions!

Now her eyes a dew, within the dune of her Cocoon

…A DOOM OF DARKNESS…!

She can taste the musk,

The dusty husk of the thirsty waters,

But still there comes no rain

As she breathes the name….

….of her dead daughter.

With her soul betwixt neither here nor there,

She feels the presence of past blow a mesh her hair,

But then again when she does turn…

Within… around her noose,

She fears to gaze, the homely graze,

The native land that set her loose.

So perpetuity may pass, whilst her thoughts she wonders,

How she mistook her home, for yet another blunder,

But then when light will break from her heart asunder,

Oh how she will ache to leave, yet stay much longer.

For hope and peril can toil with your pain,

When you regret the ones who left behind their names…

And still the butterflies’ rain hard on our English land,

Do their memories of blood, dry up like ashes,

As bodies do rust and turn into sand?

For I know she fools herself,

It was heart ache – from the moment that she left there,

But her heart is frozen still,

As she tries to find the will

…to forgive and forget there.

Consider a lover, who is not a hero,
Never protests against the agony to ego,
He who becomes ablaze, bursts into flames,
Not for the Art…but for the pain.

For what good is Cupid without bow and arrow,
Who are we, when we are without trouble or sorrow?
Yet when there is naught else left but disgust,
Disgrace splits reason between love and lust.

So caressing old romantic philosophy,
I make a bid to celestial cosmology,
‘Surely it was He the One, the Only…
Who made me here, as I am so lonely?’

‘Then if he be without aught but His Perfection’s,
Then why did he make me with my Imperfections,
And pray, how doth one apply for Divine Interventions?’

When the essence of existence is sin pray doth tell,
And all in Awe of Lord – end well,
Then let not the fruits of worship go untasted,
But how does on stop food for thought from going wasted?

Detached from the Spirit I connect to this World,
Where every breath of life cries more… More…MORE…
…but then when every pulse of city goes to sleep…
…that is when every poet’s eyes begin to weep….

Become puritan, when impurities become pregnant,
With a lust entitled Murder, Justice or Freedom!
But justice is dead in (America and) England!
When I have to fight, to become an animal with an addiction!

My addictions become, goals, my goals, become my houses,
‘We hope that one day, we may, build Golden Palaces…’

When the greatest sign of Love is a White Marbled Pavilion,
Then what’s worth ‘My Blood, My Religion, or My Opinion?’

Who am I to judge History, Treason or Genius?
When I inflict myself to Masses, Saints, and Trionions?

]]> http://thecupoverflows.com/2008/04/29/i-want-a-hero/feed/ 0 phosphorescence1001 http://thecupoverflows.com/2008/04/28/his-majestic-voice/ http://thecupoverflows.com/2008/04/28/his-majestic-voice/#comments Mon, 28 Apr 2008 23:07:44 +0000 Najma http://phosphorescence1001.wordpress.com/?p=144 ]]>

I heard a voice he sang a sacred tune,
He played the harp and hearts to drunken moon,
He sang so well he pleased the Lord,
Divinity charmed and chimed his chords,
The seventh heavens began to plead and pledge,
A space for this Angel – even the Angels wept!
For this boys soul was so truly blessed,
But the world bewildered with unrest – it detests!
It destroys what it can not unravel, touch or taste.

Voracious and blind he knew not were he crept,
Between the heavens or the street that bled,
Between white sheets, both crisp and wet,
Where sleeps to close for comfort…
T’was there he slept!

He drowned in Dream Rivers too deep,
And sank before he had time to repent.
Though he did fast and pray a pious vesta,
The Angels still feared his soul would fester…
…His voice was like you and I have cried,
Like when you first heard how young Scotty had died,
I hear back then even Old furry sang the blues,
Upon being stricken by the sad and grievous news.
Whilst down and out in Memphis Tennessee,
His voice carried down the river of Mississippi.

But it was just one song I heard him play,
No I never got to meet him, but I still felt his pain,
Like one feels when one’s love is lost,
And one with earth like many particles of dust,
Slipping between the fingers of love and lust,
But we all are human, and all humans may rust,
Then all man is worth is that in which he trusts.

He trusted no-one, but God and himself,
For no Ocean is too deep enough to delve.
And then when the Dark Angel came to draw his breath,
He left this world with nothing, and little regrets,
No, he did not fear cry the loss of his life,
For he may have lost a mistress but gained a wife,
He found his home when gone astray his path,
Upon a drunken evening of lovers past,
But this story doth not end here my friends,
For t’is a true lover’s story and truth hath no end.

I’m afraid I fear you my Love,

So forgive me my Fair Angle Dust,

I fall full of fright and dread,

For all good things must come to an end.

 Sometimes I feel I fear freedom…

For then where would my soul go,

For familiarities contempt to grow?

But then I fear when I feel grounded,

When I begin to fear I feel elated,

I feel I fear for goodness sake,

Maybe I fear for I fear disgrace,

I must confess I fear the human race,

Even the God forsaken rat race,

I feel I have no distinctive part,

I fear Literature, Poetry and even Art,

I fear I might fall out, I fear I may fall in,

I fear I will be kicked in a ready bloody shin,

I fear one day I’ll begin to scream,

When there’s no high hills to climb nor towering trees,

I feel I fear you my God, I feel I fear your World,

I feel I fear nothing but life – For I fear myself alone!

Most memorable moments magnificent,
All babies are born in ignorance,
Three winks spent in twinkling innocence,
Each minutes pass in magical significance,
But baby bodies don’t seem to recollect,
How purity can discern life’s first step,
Watching the wait we most remember,
Maybe the weight we most regret,
So some memorable moments we tend to forget.

Only memories of you before we met,
I know you still though I still regret,
I knew your face from amongst the blue,
Though know not who I was before I met you,
Now you are so far away from me my Love,
The distance Kaaba is from my rug,
As Earth is to Nirvana Skies above,
You are far yet close my Love,
As memories past flicker before my eyes,
Moments fly by like dust in deserts dry,
All seasons come home – tally ho then away,
But sleeping beauty still lies awake,
Lost in the remembrance of your name my Love,
I remember you still, though you may forget my Love.

Upon Yusuf’s black features rare,
Lay beastly beauty contraire so fair;
The bedazzled wives amazed did wonder,
How Samson felt slain by his Delilah,
Whilst pondering upon the blade of a knife,
Their forty fingers they self sacrificed.
As the scriptures state Angles fall from grace,
Then what if women bleed in disgrace?
For no man’s an island complete and great,
When drunkard addiction seeds sedate;
Kings and generals both descent in vice,
Declining in the Queen of Egyptian eyes.
His beauty – Her sweetness!
Yes we all have our weakness,
(Though crucify ourselves in secret)
Yes we all have a cross to bear,
Locked in the mesh of black beauties hair.

I recall glory’s fine form and figure feral,
Yes – I remember all too well,
Those black exotic mountain eyes,
Gleam diamond snow – I’m mesmerised!

When hypnotised by black mothers magic,
I forget to fake a death romantic,
Still why I should forget disgrace,
As I vow to never gaze your face?

What kind of a love is this my Dear,
When you regret to have known me here,
Whilst I waft in the memories of your scent,
Yes I can even taste your skin,
Both smack, and lick then kick
Those butterkiss popcorn lips
I’m fathomed with purity passion and bliss!

Yes – Even with the witches’ magic,
Despite being made to eat crawling maggots,
Despite the spite, the spit, the cursing fights,
For how can I forget petty beauties plight,
Forget the cats? The rats? The baby mice?
The spilt perfume and Egyptian nights?
How can I forget when I forgot my strife?
And became the bride of Frankenstein,
Who still at deaths alter can’t decide
To regret a beauty, or forget a beast.

When there was love – there was lust;
Who blew the bombs – who slew the babies.
Where there was fire – there lay ashes,
If we fell and filled with desire;
Why came the guns,
While we gave them roses?
Then who can conspire,
To burn young buds,
Torn from a stem of thorns;
Well it makes me wonder
…of a sad and sullen death,
With morbid fascination…
…and unfathomed curiosity
Must I be a victim of cosmology
(Or a patent offender)?
Never the less infatuated with it all,
Maybe I have ceased to make sense of it all,
Or maybe it is beyond my comprehension,
Then what good comes of good intentions,
And pray tell me where is my reward?
When abstinence does not make sense anymore,
Torn from a stem of thorns,
It does make me wonder
…of sad and sullen death.

The tale or two lost deers looking for a truely very Merry Christmas.  

What is a peice of paper,

When it’s just a wasted acer?

Why lie the forests in babyshamles,

And glistens darkness wherever we do ramble?

We hear no magic trumpet feed our soul,

And who knows who will live forever more.

For who wrote pages on skies that rhyme,

The ink that’s spilt it speaks it chimes,

Then breeze becomes a breath of wine,

When thoughts spark from rotating sun,

The revolution becomes far from undone,

Splashing apple blossoms with dew,

I drink nectar from eyes,

With honey for many but few,

For in contanance they do sing,

And in constanance they do soar,

Long live Your eyes,

If I be ignorant Your my guise

But if Your the master of disguise,

Then who be ignorant who be wise?

Now that all wealth,
Has possessed you,
And your feet can carry a man,
So now sour hearts,
Has gone and left you,
So where was love,
When it possessed you?

For what was seen,
Was might and beauty,
With loving eyes,
And call of duty,
Struck not deceiver’s intention,
My strands grew grey,
In vain pretention.

‘Twas me who looked upon you.
With all that I had dreamt,
These dreams came true,
And overwhelmed you,
So you sentenced me to death!

I thought of simple things in life,
I dreamt of a Dame and Queen,
I dreamt of beautiful gardens,
And horses that roam free in fields,
Drinking water from fresh streams.
And there in a small cottage in my dream,
You held my hand and said,
“ Remember when our eyes first met?”
“For when was that moment,”
I did rely,
“That I am sure you will forget,
Was it when we lay like babies,
One facing East one west?
Or when we played,
When we played were children,
Hiding in our den?
Do you remember,
The one you looked me in?
Just like you did,
Shove me in your
Dad’s broken down fridge,”
To which you remark,
“Who would have thought,
That would lead to marriage,”
With your hands on my belly,
“And so for our new babies carriage.”

You trapped me then,
You trapped me now,
But when I awake,
All you want is all out?
Makes me wonder,
Is there any love about?
But then why do I still doubt,
Your intentions, your silence?
Maybe it is as such,
I think I dream too much!