An Escape Poem by Tajalla Qureshi

The only mismatch I feel,
that vulturous world of silly skulls
they haunt and hurt, as an approach with dull
they dismantle the eager eyes
they are never in enchanting lies

I, the heap of delights unable to fit and fight
the creepy cultures and spooky vultures,
Trying to escape from the black sculptures
Yet a thrust to whisper in the Valley of Holy Spirits
where the crystal-clear castles have clearance

The weird wits ripple in the night
and the lush green butterflies, sleep in a fight
among the freaky flickers,
passing through one seepage, unveil the kickers
I eye upon the roads of soulful stickers


I, the holy sensation alluringly clips
to the divine image of Blake's grip
The glimpses of eternity envelope and eclipse
Crunchy cones with a sword of holy lips
Clasp the calmness to cover the ships

I desire to shift the shuffle and lift up the luster
Live where I wish to live, Fuse where I flutter
Where air speaks and water vanishes the weeps
Yet, with an easiness in my heart, I warmly sleep.