Lullaby of An Insomniac



Lullaby of An Insomniac

When the dreams don’t come in sleep,
They find alternatives in which to creep,
Heavenly choirs and infernal chants,
Sublime philosophy and senseless rants.
Let the old familiar landscapes,
Rock under our delusional escapes, Telephone lines set on mystic fire, Tunnels in broad pavement quagmires.
A maternal voice whose voice is,
Only as real as my imagination is, Soothes my mind as I rinse and repeat,
The cycles of the industrial beat.
But in dark corners of my eyes,
That’s where the wraiths lie,
Guiding me off the roads and paths,
Into mortal accidents and traps.
So ingest the lucid caffeine dream,
In shots, carbonation and cream,
They will keep the nightmares at bay,
Until the night gives in to day.
Amidst the fingers of rosy dawn,
We still find the strength to go on, For families and self we go to bed,
And in two hours raise new our heads.
Welcome us back to our realities
With exhausto-phrenic tendencies, Deprived yet still so strong,
In our fractured minds and song.

By a friend who wishes to remain anonymous
February 12, 2016



Bernie Sanders

I dedicate this poem to Bernie Sanders and all those Americans who support the political revolution of 2016. In 2008 we were promised change, but it wasn’t delivered and we now know why. Today we don’t want mere promises of change. We demand it!


Change can happen
only when we believe it
Change can happen
only when we conceive it

Change can happen
only when we act
Change can happen
only when we react
to the fact
that the world is in harm
And in need of leaders
who win our hearts
through wisdom
and character
Not through their
deceitful charm

Change will happen
only when we change
Change will happen
only when we free
Change will happen
only when we succeed
In rooting out evil
by planting seeds
of love and care
And standing up
with those who dare
to challenge the tyrants
responsible for brewing
division and hate amongst
a population of innocents
So distraught and irate.

Come together
Join the revolution!
It is now or never
Unity is the only

By Mensur Gjonbalaj
February 10, 2016




she’s bene!
Walking along the
white sandy shore
of a tropical paradise,
I’m losing breathe
in admiration.
The vivacity of
her curves and
silky smooth,
glistening olive-tinted
flesh are mentally dulling.
I’m speechless when in
the presence of such a
… beauty or wonder?
I fear either words being
taken as a slight.
Exotic, like Persian gold
hiding somewhere
near the Caspian Sea.
Her hair is dark as night
and in the sun assimilates
with its burning rays,
creating this paradisal
Those almond shaped and
coffee bean colored eyes
send shrills down my spine
and when they lock with mine,
I’m done;
Bereft in exhaustion from
the feelings and desires
that erect within me,
I’m weightless and
I hear the words Futile Fool
ringing in my head.
She has a noble nose,
Cleopatra comes to mind
– though I bet she would have
nothing on her.
I don’t really bet, I know
it in my gut.
And her full pink lips,
so luscious
and brazen with temptation;
they shoot particles of lust
like magnets or bolts
of lightning.
As if Jupiter and Eros had
conspired to have me lovestruck.
Her smile melts my heart
and forces me, as if the dark arts were in play, to blush.
Not to mention the elegant legs
and bosom: I’m driven
to incurable madness.
Supple, firm, yet tender as a child,
all my senses are aroused
and with or without due justice,
I find myself prostrating in
admiration to the God
capable of a creation so
magnificent and mesmerizing.
I’ll worship and pray for eternity
to a Divine Being of such taste
and beg penitence for having walked the
Earth as a man of such daft acumen.
She’s the epitome of the material desiderata I seek in existence.
Money, power, the pursuit or acquisition of spiritual enlightenment mean nothing to me!
Not anymore.
Not so long as my heart pumps blood.
My eyes may have sinned
against the fate of conscious
But there’s no fighting this.
I will either have or not.
Men were born to toil
and this is a battle worth
the spoils;
All will be vanquished in this pursuit, be it other men
or this ostentatious writer.
Music is pouring out of my heart
and if I were to lose,
there’d still be music left to write.
Words are spewing onto paper, for I’m bedazzled by a beauty
I’ve never had the fantastical
imagination to dream of.
Cervantes may have never had
the chance to conceive the likes
of Don Juan had he seen
the creature I was blissfully doomed to lay eyes upon.
Win or lose, the outcome
cannot linger on in the
confines of my mind.
I do not foresee an end to any of this;
But I must confess through my words that never have I felt
more blessed and content
to have been given the vision
of being.
The auora of her pulchritude
has seeped into my soul
and I may now die with the
sakeena the Sufi masters
strived a lifetime to seek
and a sense of worth, knowing
that God, the Good Lord and
Creator of all, had given me
the privilege to see the apex
of human perfection
and ethereal beauty.

By Mensur Gjonbalaj
February 4, 2016

In The Depths of Solitude – Tupac Shakur


Another poem by the legendary rapper/poet/social critic Tupac Shakur.

In The Depths of Solitude

A young heart with an old soul
How can there be peace?
How can I be in the depths of solitude
When there are two inside of me?
This duo in me causes the perfect opportunity
To learn and live twice as fast
As those who accept simplicity…

by Tupac Shakur

The Poetry of Tupac Shakur


Tupac Shakur

This will be the first of a series of posts of Tupac Shakur’s poetry. His words and music have had a profound affect on humanity and the struggle of the underclassmen of the United States and abroad.

Sometimes I Cry

Sometimes when I’m alone I cry,

‘Cause I am on my own.

The tears I cry are bitter and warm.

They flow with life but take no form.

I cry because my heart is torn.

I find it difficult to carry on.

I I had an ear to confiding,

I would cry among my treasured friend,

but who do you know that stops that long

to help another carry on.

The world moves fast

and it would rather pass by,

Then to stop and see what makes one cry,

so painful and sad.

And sometimes …

I cry

and no one cares about why.


by Tupac Shakur (1971 – 1996)


Making Love


Making Love

Making Love

My bones shiver,
my eyes quiver.
Goosebumps grow,
aroused and oh
the sight I see
lying beside me.
Her enticing flesh, angelic;
My raging passions, enthetic.
The sweltering heat
Caresses our feet;
Together we enjoin
with burning loins.
Neck and neck we bite.
So lustful a fight,
it’s a luminous site.
Thrust after thrust
and kiss after kiss,
tainted in love’s musk:
it’s a heavenly bliss.
As the climax recedes,
we are blisteringly satisfied.
We lie there in peace
smoking cigarettes, gratified.

By Mensur Gjonbalaj
January 27, 2016

Silent Tomb

albertina edvard munch

Edvard Munch

Silent Tomb

We all fear
and I get that.
What else could
loneliness be other than
that of death?
We die, are thrown into the earth,
and like the womb
of our mother,
lie there in the belly
of partial existence.

Once having lived
and breathed the air
of life.
We now float about
the darkened layers
of dirt,
perhaps the breathe
of death.
We may have had
someone by our side
at the very last moments;
Tears may be shed
in lieu of our demise.
Still, alone we end up
and unlike seeds
thrown into soil, no sprouting.
And so shall an eternity be spent,

by Mensur Gjonbalaj

January 26, 2016