‘Mark my words as the wars you started began with similar words.
An uprising of sanity will occur for our country’s sake.
Indoctrinated to believe that our feigned freedom  was  our choice.
No more fear of prosecution for our rights, that we had to leave.

They are driven senseless by rapacity and self interest.
Your contempt for named people that you swore to protect with justice,
Has rendered us speechless for falsity you try to clarify.
Go consider our lies and take them as truth to fuel your beliefs.

Our faith is nothing more than  counterfeit to throw off clouded eyes.
Our tales of ordinary feats celebrated in silence.
Our history was written by him with our generations blood.
People are stealing hope to light their homes to show that they still live.


I wrote this poem recently focusing on the syllable count.The first four lines of each stanza have 16 syllables each.



‘Dichotomy .

Coiled ready to spring ,

She convulses

Left unsure but sure of one thing.


Her ambitions


No admissions,

Psychologically analysed .’

– Shaza

What do you think this is about ?


‘I plunged my fingers into the lithic surface.It was so worn out and soft that it crumbled in my hands. Our Moon’s surface looked stable with burnt edges but it took little force to reduce it to mere powder.I grappled.My helmet protecting me from the Moon’s remains as I edged ever closer to the crater.

A cavity burrowed into the ground of the Moon,which no creature of human origin could have created. It was hollow but sturdy with a platinum tinge to it. It made me feel safe … for a while.

So here I am struggling to survive. I’m looking out for monsters and other repugnant beasts. Though I would much prefer them as their nature is clear unlike my manipulative brothers back on Earth.Their malicious intent revealed at times of desperation.

As I thought of Earth I decided to look back .Earth reminded me of a blown out candle, it gave us light it gave us hope, but we decided that we no longer needed it. So we strived to destroy the only thing we needed to stay alive. Along with every tree we chopped and every drop we polluted our oceans, a piece of our soul was removed, till we were nothing.Roaming the Earth like ghosts with memories of our disillusioned past.

I have heard tales of creatures that have done unimaginable things to people who stray the galaxy helpless. They can engulf humans and take on their form, the ultimate immersion.That’s what makes them hard to spot. ‘-Shaza

Short story , I wrote it for a prompt.


I stole a breath as the first day of winter rolled in. I let out a sigh and watched the remnant of my warm breath collide with winter’s frigid fist.My body fell in to a state of agitation as winter tried to claim me , so I too can sleep beneath the snow. I merely let my hands delve further down inside my pockets , trying to persuade myself that the holes were just part of my fanciful imagination , a simple figment of my unused creativity. 

My act must have aroused the wrath of the wind as I heard it let out a war cry just before it pierced me. My breathing started to become more shallow as I hobbled along letting my body quiver .Gently I put one foot over the other reminding my body how to walk and teaching it to leave no mark .

A war was made of many battles and I acknowledged that the wind was not done. It clawed at me vehemently as my brain tried to save my destination from the grasp of ambiguity . 

My face had began to freeze and it felt as if time halted harshly to a stop. It hadn’t. I knew this because the snow flakes still kept dropping down with purpose . The snow had accumulated as I sluggishly trudged on yet as usual I left no evidence of my existence . The winds shrill scream was the last thing I remember of that day.

Winter ,the worlds most beautiful graveyard with creatures and plants laying dormant , patiently awaiting life. I am still waiting for life .


Short story


‘Disaster is the thread he uses to weave our fortunes’-Shaza

Tribute to 9-11 , many people were late to work or forgot something and felt unlucky or annoyed but what they hadn’t anticipated was that there ‘disaster’ gave them the present of life that they could have lost.


‘Night- Creeper

Sleep -Breaker

Dream- Starter


Goal -Mover

Life- Choser

Path- Parter


Word- Picker

Paper -Ticker

Plan -Thwarter



I have attempted another style named Kennings.For those who have not heard of it a Kenning is a figurative expression that replaces something e.g a name or noun or person.It is usually made up of two words and the words are hyphenated.

I have tried to portray the “consequences” of an idea and if you enjoyed it do not hesitate to tell me in the comments below .If you would like me to do another poem in this style or in a different style please mention it in your comment.