A Poem — When words fall short, I sit in the world’s shadows. Watching the world through my window, I rejoice absurd songs. Life spills in laissez faire economics, consuming dreams to rust. Forgotten blue and white banners flutter. Wind sighs in Red Oaks, echoing the doleful cries of a lonesome. The song rises: a kite lifted by a gust of ethereal wind. Through my…

My hometown, my lost friend, Thank you for greeting me once again, at a time when we both are lost. When I wander your streets, you also wander within me, weaved into my thoughts. Winding down to your core, to the oldest part of you, I finally remember your last hug. Let’s hug once again to soothe sorrows…

By: Muhammad Nasrullah Khan Dear First World, Salute to you Accept humble bow, from the Third World. Thank you for the great lectures for **** idiots. Heads hung low, wide-eyed, we clapped. You sold us your notion of humanity, we lived in a barbaric world. You bombed to end the atrocities. The boisterous…

My Writing Journey — My literary life is like a wild tree that grows in the desert and depends on the rain. It has to face the heat of the sunlight and the harsh winds. If it grows up, it remains untrimmed and unappreciated. But if it survives, its fragrance spreads in the desert…

A Poem by Muhammad Nasrullah Khan Cold wind, I feel your touch. Watch my breath condense in your chill. While falling many-hued colors. scatter across the aging Earth, like dancing a waltz together on cobbled floor. But yet they weep, like poor men’s dreams. Such tragic sadness they invoke! I want to gather those sweeping fronds and crush them to my chest. They crinkle when I…

A Poem I met a child, a flower spilling from a greenhouse. Long vanished, Eden’s flora bloomed, cradled in the arms of nature. Water dripped like rain from soft petals, while a breeze mused his curly hair. He bloomed quietly in a garden and I was a wind-ripped lake lost in wilderness. An unforgiving, relentless soul. I could…

Poem — Uptown. Downtown. All around. Swirls of people Touched by the kiss of absurdity. Flesh creating more flesh. A city grown in tumor ridden tentacles. Jumbled steel, glass, concrete and asphalt Built up in rows of skyscrapers. Whose long, jagged teeth bite holes through the heavens. Streets flow with cars and people Like rivers bent into sharp angles. Bulging subway vehicles, Merge from the…

I need an editor/editors for this growing publication, would you like to be? Here is the link of my publication: My Selection “All good books are the same and when you read a good book you realize it’s already passed on to you and then that book…medium.com A Brief Introduction: “My Selection is the publication for all of you to share the memorable and universal excerpts from our favorite books with your reflections. We love reading great…

I was sad. I didn’t know why I was sad. I believe the genuine sadness is when you don’t know the reason. Perhaps it originates from your subconscious. Life moves forward and we cannot stop its flow. I like the way its flow originates from the mountains and flows down…