A.r. Bazian : Writing

Diaries Of An Immigrant Soul, Pt.1: Soul In Fraction

Diaries Of An Immigrant Soul, Pt.1: Soul In Fracti..

A Poem by A.r. Bazian


my story, my conflict, simply... the rhymes in my head! this certain part is not recent, but this series, along aside to An "Urgent Night-Mare&q..
In The Corners Of My Head

In The Corners Of My Head

A Poem by A.r. Bazian


also not recent... but i think its a good one...
A Celebration In Black

A Celebration In Black

A Poem by A.r. Bazian


Valentine's Day 2007 my second valentine without her by my side. i still celebrate Valentine in black!
I Write To The Rhymes Of My Own Funeral

I Write To The Rhymes Of My Own Funeral

A Poem by A.r. Bazian


Not from my recent work, Maybe mids of 2007. - (medieval-Shakespearian old English) -
And We Danced� And I Cried!

And We Danced� And I Cried!

A Poem by A.r. Bazian


And We Danced… And I Cried! why am i alone? i can hear my heart beat... silence all around! ... i cling on... to misery.. no one asked...
An Urgent Night-mare, Pt.4: At The Gates Of Gaia (Gaya)

An Urgent Night-mare, Pt.4: At The Gates Of Gaia (..

A Poem by A.r. Bazian


[An Urgent Night-mare, Pt.4: At The Gates Of Gaia (Gaya)] "At Her Majesty's Service". Doors… So Skyish of fear and agility Li..
the fury of endlessness

the fury of endlessness

A Poem by A.r. Bazian


The Fury Of Endlessness as i stood upon the fury of darkness... i can feel the freezing breath of wisdom... pulling down my shoulders... they fe..
what we are!

what we are!

A Poem by A.r. Bazian


What We Are! i wonder the creation of man what makes us so unique 'tis what we are? or is it who we are?..
An Urgent Night-mare, Pt.3: The Messenger's Quest

An Urgent Night-mare, Pt.3: The Messenger\'s Quest

A Poem by A.r. Bazian


[An Urgent Night-mare, Pt.3: The Messenger's Quest] "What Words to My Queen?" The Messenger Said. the silence has finally been broken...
an orchard for my withering garden (the poem)

an orchard for my withering garden (the poem)

A Poem by A.r. Bazian


An orchard, for my withering garden (the poem) Now My flags go down, And my roses frown I build an orcha..