Creator of strange and beautiful worlds, poet, and blogger from Brooklyn, NY. Addicted to tea.
I speak very little of love I know love – I felt it Rather, I feel it everyday, every millisecond And yet, I rarely talk of it
By Malik Mor3 years ago in Poets
“JASON!!” a woman screamed her voice cracking. Her son was dead. His body lay so peacefully on the hospital bed he could be sleeping. Jason’s face was pale and hollow from the illness, but if the machines weren’t off and his mother wasn’t crying and flailing in his father’s arms, as she tried to reach her son. For the entire world, Jason could simply be sleeping.
By Malik Mor3 years ago in Fiction
Sleep and Dream Sleep young one, sleep. Sleep and dream, I’ll watch over you, So sleep peacefully. Ah – come now, don’t furrow your brow.
By Malik Mor6 years ago in Poets
I lay and ponder under the shadow of leaves What do you see when you look at me? How deep! How shallow! Am I to you? An open book
The Empire's city is beautiful, Complicated, intoxicating, liberating – suffocating It’s easy to get lost in its beauty –
By Malik Mor7 years ago in Poets
No more! Let us speak no more of loss Of pain and heartache Of trembling lips and blurred vision It is a great travesty to the one you've lost
These are not dark times Even on this day of loss Of songs, tears, and laughter Hearts are broken and clouds cover the sky