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Ayad Gharbawi Jan 2010
PASSION PLAY

Ayad Gharbawi




Location: Desert Shore, Bitterly Cold Night, next to strong waves from the ocean.
Characters: Man ((M) and his Lover, a Woman (W).

----------------------------------------


W: “Search as I forever do, in manifold ways unknown, I seek but to love thee, and the meagre goodness from Life, with steely ardour - my armour faithful.”
M: “Alone I may be, and still, yes I love thee; these days heavy are and beset I am by burdensome trivialities, but I remain trusting, though my corner so narrow remain.”
W: “My Love! Your speech I hear aloud and thine lips I live within and yet, my Love, all Solitude I am. Man! I am unaided! In this journey of sinful thorns, my love, in this unforgiving journey, this blurred odyssey, I stand alone”.
M: “This trial you speak of, but I do know of it well; so, listen then: within the strength of trusted togetherness we can plough on, though everlasting harm shall do its spiteful tricks, warm to our united truth shall we remain.”
W: (Surprised) “O! My love! This thought I cannot hear! My life, my destiny, is but mine. And all have their own solitary roads of jagged rocks to embrace, like it we or not. We heartbreaking earthly sad beasts, either fiercely clutch at integrity, or we do let it go to perish away.”
M: (Confused) “My Love! I do hear, I do hear. But when Times decide on burdening us, what then can we achieve? To face Reality within the frail arms of solitude is to ignore, to refuse the severe threats of repulsive grins.”
(Silence)
M: (Passionately) “O! My sweet! Only in us, can we envelope, through joined, clasped warmth can we be as one united! The screams that so truly are meant to slice us off, only we, our Unity, can destroy. For mine eyes can only find sleep in your ears, and it is so - for otherwise nothing and no one can be.”
W: (Angry) “My Passion too is bubbling for thine bewildered ears. Am I not your soul? Do we not suffer as one? Do we not reflect as one? Am I not your lover true? Is not our warmth not weighty to our fickle bones?”
(Silence)
W: (Passionate) “But, Lover, this much ought I to formally declare unto thee: For our eyes, and all eyes, envision unequally at one another. Till eternity, in its casual, indifferent flicker, snatches at us all wretched mortals, the gazes from lords to paupers remain veritably mismatched. O my passion! My woeful heart! These words I thunder forth defines love unfeigned, and what mine eyes do pour out unto thine ears is authenticity true.
(Silence)
W: (Passionately) “What joined mem’ries you choose to caress may possess thee, but your exactness for what love is to you, doth not dwell in mine mind. What tears, what weepings you do, fall stormily upon thine own soul’s wildernesses. You choose to be chained by changing visions and indefinite sentiments of light weight – though so poignant at the moment they veritably are?”
M: (Inquiring) “My love! I cherish thee; where hast thou been in thine mind, for now ye talk of that truth you relate to in your heart. Your pronouncements, what depths I do feel! Can it perchance be that my passion has strayed our winds far from me?”
W: “No, my love! Why is anger, I feel, lush on thine tongue?”
M: (Surprised and Frightened) “Anger! I am too distant from that affliction! But yes, I feel my words make only for unstable murmurs in my breath.”
W: (Quietly) “Then, do tell me, lover, who do your murmurs betray - myself or yourself then?”
M: (Quietly) “Perhaps so, perhaps so. But my anxiety wilfully demands of me to eradicate your vision.”
W: (Firmly) “You answer naught from my undemanding question. Or, are mine meanings too violent for you? What aches thee?”
M: (Passionately) “My sweet! In so many moments, I created mysterious planets for thee! Bizarre worlds of contrasts and opposites and musical words of antiquity and sensual ravines. My love! I, my soul, my life, my inner deepest breath, tempted as I am by Fates’ inscrutable cruelties to ashamedly yield, I have yet always expressed to mine eyes’ heart, though they be in bleak darkness, to faithfully fight without pause all shades of vice and still yet - with loving integrity; I have stood with arms of righteousness and love for thee up and never down! Yes, sincere good and venal ill remain joined in life for all to feel, but you knew it was not for me to disentangle them. And so, I pronounce unto thee, still, and yet ever and ever more, my love for thee, though still beholding a thousand mountains before me, I remain sturdy for thee; I remain undisturbed by burly laws, and by exotic dictums, I stand fierce and unhurt, save in your absence.”
W: (With Sadness) “My beloved, your vivid voice stabs the falsehoods for thee, and I say unto thee, unto thee your excessive and unreasonable chains, and for myself my unreasonable and extreme chains remain.”
M: (Shocked) “But I burden thee with no steely chains, nor verbal fetters! For naught I produce for thee save grace, passion and freedom to love for us both to be in Unity Sacred! Dost thou embrace my visions as ‘shackles’, then ‘tis better we agree to class that which we are as but madness! Hear me, for my tears now must truly change their colours!”
W: (Determined) “Your feverish hands clutch only upon mine erratic wings!”
M: (Anger) “Never! Never! For I clutch only to destroy all malevolence; as for thee, Lady of the purest, untouched, guarded, secluded Ponds, I seek to unshackle for you the scattered, scared shadows that yearn for thine sovereignty. And what is this ‘sovereignty’ but our Sacred Union? What curse deemest you I impose? Do you equal my purest passions with atrocities? Murmur unto mine ears, your clearest love for me.”
W: “Ah! You enquire of me my ‘sincerity’ for thee? What demands!”
(Silence)
M: “I see naught but heaving forests of love betwixt us, and yet, you discover my words being ‘demanding’?”
W: (Drily) “Perchance, your visions are indistinct and ever more blurred, through these years cannot be ignored.”
M: (Begging) “My love! All mine life, though it be lengthy, I fought most venal tyranny, and for this moment, you question my righteousness?”
W: (Indignantly) “I have been plunged into seas hostile and I have plunged in a thousand miles of inert minds troubled beyond conceivable comprehension and I have yet to have my Right for my own greedy, ravenous flesh to be vigorously and forcefully embraced by sensuality and serenity. Yes, I do love thee, and yet in our union, as in all unions, I have been adorned with naught, save snickering, gossiping scenes of festive *****, games, chatter and farewells, themselves festooned within silly and sincerely stupid smiles and frowns, and shallow tears and never ending ludicrous chatter unworthy of monkeys conversing. I have met programmed rows of pats, respect and all other so-called decent intents and gestures, but, where, lover that you are of mine, where does my personal heart, throb and manically vibrate, save in your heavenly imaginations?”
(Silence)
W: (Quietly but Determinedly) “My love! I truly thee love and with passions, I tell you, of proportions of precise exactitudes; in your eyes I have witnessed symphonies of exquisiteness; and, I of thee ask: where dwelleth your own love for myself in thine body?”
(Silence)
W: (Passionate) “Do you recognise the changing structures that form this, that I name ‘My Love’? In my solitude eternal, I do evermore and always do pause, and be pensive, and be thinking of questions, such as ‘where’, ‘why’, ‘when’ ‘how’, and ‘which’ should be my path; I am forever and ever more searching, seeking the heavens of every corner, and the irritable tempests, within my changing self as they themselves do try to seek me, and we forever, through inconceivable murkiness, do try to assemble the everlasting entirety of these disorganized puzzles into some measure of comprehensible cohesion that ‘I’ am. That is how the ‘I’ you love is forever changing and thereby formulating itself, and within all these meandering passions, and endless errors, where am I to feel thee? Where? And where do you seek me? In which land? In which forest? You trivialise my beingness as you focus upon my lands as being that which so effortless to find, and yet, you are much too distant from an understanding of my conflicting, emerging civilisations.”
(Silence)
W: (Passionate) If the utterance ‘Never’ is pathetic for thee, then allow me to introduce you to my latest heart: for it screams out that single, protracted utterance! Never! My love, these winds of raging wraths, both within and outside by flesh, must and can only be annihilated by mine own sincerities – were I not to play against my own self. My uncontrolled desires and, yes, thirsty manic passions can only be tempered and thoroughly satiated to the utter brim, by mine own loving, sources of pleasure, my own uncontrollable ecstasies. As for the rest of ****** pleasures, my own erroneous words, speeches and utterances can only be severed and sliced by my tranquillity.”
M: (Resigned) “I hear thine words. Do not abandon me. Do not destroy our civilisation of justice.”
W: “What we share, the bonds, are enjoyment. Listen though to mine lips: enjoyment is what - when it is to be compared with convulsive ecstatic quivers of satisfaction?”
M: (Puzzled) “And what of all our journeys to attain that unity? For all that, is it to be of mere insignificance? And if that be your truth, for what then did we toil and labour for unity of minds and bodies?”
W: (Laughing) “Did you understand from Life itself, that here it was, grandly to proclaim its furtive faces unto thine own awaiting face?! “
M: (Baffled) “It was so far too plain and vastly clear unto me these sceneries we faced before our loving bodies.”
W: “Yes, and I too, did see them with thee. Our four eyes, did see unity for that flicker of time. How true you speak! But, time clocked on, I saw you as you stood there, moving nowhere, unawares that it was your duty to squash onwards whatever vile breaths faced us.”
M: (Desperate) “And did I not? Did I abandon thee in these crushing paths?”
W: (Accusing) “No, you did not. Never, once did you abandon me. I ask of thee; for what sense do we feel a need for a continuation of these gruelling marches? For unity? For love? Or, is love unity? Was that and is this our reason for us to carry on with these shackles?”
M: “For assuredly, yes, and more yes, I tell thee! Toil and gruelling dawns, and unbearable evenings and the whitest of nights are all for the sacred attainment of that heavenly summit of joy I name as blessed ‘Love’.”
W: (Assured) “And, Sire, what if my nerves, blood and ****** hunger tell thee in truth that we, all of us, need no longer, and need never in truth, to undertake these paths, for we find naught that nourishes us at the blessed summit of your definition of what ‘Love’ is?”
M: (Confused & Sad) “So, I falter here and now upon understanding your speech; do I reason from thee that our loving days in unity are frivolously bygone now?”
W: (Calmly & Gracefully) “Do the wandering birds, and do the blind bats, and do the reckless storms, and do the blindly, raging waves and do the supremely arrogant oceans eternally march on in but one direction only with the savage passage of time within their particular lives? You did pronounce that you built planets for our unity; well then, did you not view how planets endlessly revolve along the same path?”
(Pause)
W: (Calmly & with Dignity) “For, Sire, I am not as a Planet - could you not feel that throughout our journeys? You endlessly query and question ‘who’ it is that ‘I’ am? Well, I speak this much on myself; I am as the birds, and the bats, and the storms and the waves and the oceans.”  
M: (Angry) “Woman! I can only then tell of thee that you are naught but feuding clutter and violent disarray!”
W: (Unconcerned) “Those are your words. Not mine. Speak for what you wish, Sire.”
M: (Angry) “And I stand here, before thee, in anger – nay, more, more! In fury!”
W: (Laughing) “For what? For the deeds that created but sticky, and grimy grains of sand for the undoubted pleasure our eyes?”
M: “And so you label our truths, our love so much! Fair indeed, you speak, Woman of Justice.”
W: (Arrogantly) “Man! Express your delights for your own delights. And, alas, there the circle and reality ends – and it ends only for you. That is one morsel of truth for you to ponder. What we ‘created’ and what we ‘loved’ was never and never, ever be the same for you as it is for me. Are you a sincere believer that your personal vision is the same sight all other seeing creatures envision?”
M: (Angry) “Woman, you enrage me! Your arrogance is drenching thine rags.”
W: (Sarcastic) “Tis the Man with no reason who allows his breath and words to be a veritable cesspool of fuming stenches!”
M: “But I, that I am, no longer can define your contours?”
W: (Pointedly) “Precisely, Man, precisely. Perhaps, now you have come closer to the vulnerable shores of reality!”
M: (Confused) “Do you express that you are ever varying and so for that reason there is not a one unified you?”
W: (Calmly) “For we are all ‘varying’, to borrow your word – if you do so allow me, Sire. There was never ‘unity’ of soul, nor mind, nor self, nor of any one personality. This, I desire, that you may understand.”
M: (Aghast) “Then if that be your truth and then, are we naught but multitudes of ever changing confusions, Lady of the Desert?”
W: (Calmly) “Yes and no! For those who are muscular and full of fertile vigour in their flesh, and in their intellects, and those that are severely and strictly scholastic, then they do need and they can succeed in time, in their never ending struggle to bring together the mutually antagonistic factions of that which constitutes our beingness. And, as for the dense brained soulless beings, then, it is equally veritably true that, a descent into madness can be rapidly produced, since from their erratic constituents, they cannot attract together these antagonistic and mutually-hating emotions in some vision of cohesion, and thus mayhem can be fashioned.”
(Silence)
M: (Calmly) “So, pray do tell me, where does Love and Justice and Truth and Morality stand in your universe?”
W: (Serenely) “That has been mine desire to hear the words being produced from your lips, Man!”
(Pause)
W: “So, now perhaps, your sight may be getting clearer, for your question is certainly apt. Foremost, we pathetic mortals, we the be are forever slimy specks of sand that  crumbles, must necessarily seek to survive and flourish within whatever forest, desert, meadow we find ourselves cast upon.”
M: (Startled) “At what cost, Woman? At the expense of Morality?”
W: (Rapidly) “Yes and no.”
M: (Shocked) “Horrendous! How can you spout out such filth?”
W: (Quietly) “Restrain your stupidities, and give more room to your intelligence, Sire.”
(Silence)
W: (Gracefully) “In times of trouble, what can Man do when he be forced to embrace evil, even though he finds the act of the embrace loathsome, but he does what he does for the truth of his vital existence to continue. Only when he need never embrace vile, and then allows himself to commit the act, then he is for certainty to incur the everlasting wrath of God. Evil is thus never one truth to be utterly rejected, perchance you may now see. ”
M: (Calm but Tired) “I follow your words and their ideas therein.”
W: (Gracefully) “When you talk to me on Man and everlasting, conflicting changes within that self-same creature, I tell you with all the earnestness that I possess, of what God has scattered and endowed upon me; for this beast, we all call in unity Man, this creature has far too many a numberless number of mutually self-contradicting, distrusting, loving, hating, inspiring and a never ending number of feelings and emotions that are in constant flow and change – as in any rapid river descending unto its eventual destination, which in its case, is the sea, while in our case, it is Death itself for sure.”
M: (Despair) “And how can this beast ‘love’ anyone within this welter of confusion?”
W: (Rapidly) “He cannot!”
M: (Rapidly, Begging) “But Man and Woman do love with bristling passions! Do you deny that, Woman?!”
W: (Calmly, eyes downwards looking) “Yes, and no. Since the beast has needs, based on his vastly intricate constituents, to ‘love’ his fellow beast, he imagines and believes
Ayad Gharbawi Jan 2010
PASSION PLAY

Ayad Gharbawi




Location: Desert Shore, Bitterly Cold Night, next to strong waves from the ocean.
Characters: Man ((M) and his Lover, a Woman (W).

----------------------------------------



W: “Search as I forever do, in manifold ways unknown, I seek but to love thee, and the meagre goodness from Life, with steely ardour - my armour faithful.”
M: “Alone I may be, and still, yes I love thee; these days heavy are and beset I am by burdensome trivialities, but I remain trusting, though my corner so narrow remain.”
W: “My Love! Your speech I hear aloud and thine lips I live within and yet, my Love, all Solitude I am. Man! I am unaided! In this journey of sinful thorns, my love, in this unforgiving journey, this blurred odyssey, I stand alone”.
M: “This trial you speak of, but I do know of it well; so, listen then: within the strength of trusted togetherness we can plough on, though everlasting harm shall do its spiteful tricks, warm to our united truth shall we remain.”
W: (Surprised) “O! My love! This thought I cannot hear! My life, my destiny, is but mine. And all have their own solitary roads of jagged rocks to embrace, like it we or not. We heartbreaking earthly sad beasts, either fiercely clutch at integrity, or we do let it go to perish away.”
M: (Confused) “My Love! I do hear, I do hear. But when Times decide on burdening us, what then can we achieve? To face Reality within the frail arms of solitude is to ignore, to refuse the severe threats of repulsive grins.”
(Silence)
M: (Passionately) “O! My sweet! Only in us, can we envelope, through joined, clasped warmth can we be as one united! The screams that so truly are meant to slice us off, only we, our Unity, can destroy. For mine eyes can only find sleep in your ears, and it is so - for otherwise nothing and no one can be.”
W: (Angry) “My Passion too is bubbling for thine bewildered ears. Am I not your soul? Do we not suffer as one? Do we not reflect as one? Am I not your lover true? Is not our warmth not weighty to our fickle bones?”
(Silence)
W: (Passionate) “But, Lover, this much ought I to formally declare unto thee: For our eyes, and all eyes, envision unequally at one another. Till eternity, in its casual, indifferent flicker, snatches at us all wretched mortals, the gazes from lords to paupers remain veritably mismatched. O my passion! My woeful heart! These words I thunder forth defines love unfeigned, and what mine eyes do pour out unto thine ears is authenticity true.
(Silence)
W: (Passionately) “What joined mem’ries you choose to caress may possess thee, but your exactness for what love is to you, doth not dwell in mine mind. What tears, what weepings you do, fall stormily upon thine own soul’s wildernesses. You choose to be chained by changing visions and indefinite sentiments of light weight – though so poignant at the moment they veritably are?”
M: (Inquiring) “My love! I cherish thee; where hast thou been in thine mind, for now ye talk of that truth you relate to in your heart. Your pronouncements, what depths I do feel! Can it perchance be that my passion has strayed our winds far from me?”
W: “No, my love! Why is anger, I feel, lush on thine tongue?”
M: (Surprised and Frightened) “Anger! I am too distant from that affliction! But yes, I feel my words make only for unstable murmurs in my breath.”
W: (Quietly) “Then, do tell me, lover, who do your murmurs betray - myself or yourself then?”
M: (Quietly) “Perhaps so, perhaps so. But my anxiety wilfully demands of me to eradicate your vision.”
W: (Firmly) “You answer naught from my undemanding question. Or, are mine meanings too violent for you? What aches thee?”
M: (Passionately) “My sweet! In so many moments, I created mysterious planets for thee! Bizarre worlds of contrasts and opposites and musical words of antiquity and sensual ravines. My love! I, my soul, my life, my inner deepest breath, tempted as I am by Fates’ inscrutable cruelties to ashamedly yield, I have yet always expressed to mine eyes’ heart, though they be in bleak darkness, to faithfully fight without pause all shades of vice and still yet - with loving integrity; I have stood with arms of righteousness and love for thee up and never down! Yes, sincere good and venal ill remain joined in life for all to feel, but you knew it was not for me to disentangle them. And so, I pronounce unto thee, still, and yet ever and ever more, my love for thee, though still beholding a thousand mountains before me, I remain sturdy for thee; I remain undisturbed by burly laws, and by exotic dictums, I stand fierce and unhurt, save in your absence.”
W: (With Sadness) “My beloved, your vivid voice stabs the falsehoods for thee, and I say unto thee, unto thee your excessive and unreasonable chains, and for myself my unreasonable and extreme chains remain.”
M: (Shocked) “But I burden thee with no steely chains, nor verbal fetters! For naught I produce for thee save grace, passion and freedom to love for us both to be in Unity Sacred! Dost thou embrace my visions as ‘shackles’, then ‘tis better we agree to class that which we are as but madness! Hear me, for my tears now must truly change their colours!”
W: (Determined) “Your feverish hands clutch only upon mine erratic wings!”
M: (Anger) “Never! Never! For I clutch only to destroy all malevolence; as for thee, Lady of the purest, untouched, guarded, secluded Ponds, I seek to unshackle for you the scattered, scared shadows that yearn for thine sovereignty. And what is this ‘sovereignty’ but our Sacred Union? What curse deemest you I impose? Do you equal my purest passions with atrocities? Murmur unto mine ears, your clearest love for me.”
W: “Ah! You enquire of me my ‘sincerity’ for thee? What demands!”
(Silence)
M: “I see naught but heaving forests of love betwixt us, and yet, you discover my words being ‘demanding’?”
W: (Drily) “Perchance, your visions are indistinct and ever more blurred, through these years cannot be ignored.”
M: (Begging) “My love! All mine life, though it be lengthy, I fought most venal tyranny, and for this moment, you question my righteousness?”
W: (Indignantly) “I have been plunged into seas hostile and I have plunged in a thousand miles of inert minds troubled beyond conceivable comprehension and I have yet to have my Right for my own greedy, ravenous flesh to be vigorously and forcefully embraced by sensuality and serenity. Yes, I do love thee, and yet in our union, as in all unions, I have been adorned with naught, save snickering, gossiping scenes of festive *****, games, chatter and farewells, themselves festooned within silly and sincerely stupid smiles and frowns, and shallow tears and never ending ludicrous chatter unworthy of monkeys conversing. I have met programmed rows of pats, respect and all other so-called decent intents and gestures, but, where, lover that you are of mine, where does my personal heart, throb and manically vibrate, save in your heavenly imaginations?”
(Silence)
W: (Quietly but Determinedly) “My love! I truly thee love and with passions, I tell you, of proportions of precise exactitudes; in your eyes I have witnessed symphonies of exquisiteness; and, I of thee ask: where dwelleth your own love for myself in thine body?”
(Silence)
W: (Passionate) “Do you recognise the changing structures that form this, that I name ‘My Love’? In my solitude eternal, I do evermore and always do pause, and be pensive, and be thinking of questions, such as ‘where’, ‘why’, ‘when’ ‘how’, and ‘which’ should be my path; I am forever and ever more searching, seeking the heavens of every corner, and the irritable tempests, within my changing self as they themselves do try to seek me, and we forever, through inconceivable murkiness, do try to assemble the everlasting entirety of these disorganized puzzles into some measure of comprehensible cohesion that ‘I’ am. That is how the ‘I’ you love is forever changing and thereby formulating itself, and within all these meandering passions, and endless errors, where am I to feel thee? Where? And where do you seek me? In which land? In which forest? You trivialise my beingness as you focus upon my lands as being that which so effortless to find, and yet, you are much too distant from an understanding of my conflicting, emerging civilisations.”
(Silence)
W: (Passionate) If the utterance ‘Never’ is pathetic for thee, then allow me to introduce you to my latest heart: for it screams out that single, protracted utterance! Never! My love, these winds of raging wraths, both within and outside by flesh, must and can only be annihilated by mine own sincerities – were I not to play against my own self. My uncontrolled desires and, yes, thirsty manic passions can only be tempered and thoroughly satiated to the utter brim, by mine own loving, sources of pleasure, my own uncontrollable ecstasies. As for the rest of ****** pleasures, my own erroneous words, speeches and utterances can only be severed and sliced by my tranquillity.”
M: (Resigned) “I hear thine words. Do not abandon me. Do not destroy our civilisation of justice.”
W: “What we share, the bonds, are enjoyment. Listen though to mine lips: enjoyment is what - when it is to be compared with convulsive ecstatic quivers of satisfaction?”
M: (Puzzled) “And what of all our journeys to attain that unity? For all that, is it to be of mere insignificance? And if that be your truth, for what then did we toil and labour for unity of minds and bodies?”
W: (Laughing) “Did you understand from Life itself, that here it was, grandly to proclaim its furtive faces unto thine own awaiting face?! “
M: (Baffled) “It was so far too plain and vastly clear unto me these sceneries we faced before our loving bodies.”
W: “Yes, and I too, did see them with thee. Our four eyes, did see unity for that flicker of time. How true you speak! But, time clocked on, I saw you as you stood there, moving nowhere, unawares that it was your duty to squash onwards whatever vile breaths faced us.”
M: (Desperate) “And did I not? Did I abandon thee in these crushing paths?”
W: (Accusing) “No, you did not. Never, once did you abandon me. I ask of thee; for what sense do we feel a need for a continuation of these gruelling marches? For unity? For love? Or, is love unity? Was that and is this our reason for us to carry on with these shackles?”
M: “For assuredly, yes, and more yes, I tell thee! Toil and gruelling dawns, and unbearable evenings and the whitest of nights are all for the sacred attainment of that heavenly summit of joy I name as blessed ‘Love’.”
W: (Assured) “And, Sire, what if my nerves, blood and ****** hunger tell thee in truth that we, all of us, need no longer, and need never in truth, to undertake these paths, for we find naught that nourishes us at the blessed summit of your definition of what ‘Love’ is?”
M: (Confused & Sad) “So, I falter here and now upon understanding your speech; do I reason from thee that our loving days in unity are frivolously bygone now?”
W: (Calmly & Gracefully) “Do the wandering birds, and do the blind bats, and do the reckless storms, and do the blindly, raging waves and do the supremely arrogant oceans eternally march on in but one direction only with the savage passage of time within their particular lives? You did pronounce that you built planets for our unity; well then, did you not view how planets endlessly revolve along the same path?”
(Pause)
W: (Calmly & with Dignity) “For, Sire, I am not as a Planet - could you not feel that throughout our journeys? You endlessly query and question ‘who’ it is that ‘I’ am? Well, I speak this much on myself; I am as the birds, and the bats, and the storms and the waves and the oceans.”  
M: (Angry) “Woman! I can only then tell of thee that you are naught but feuding clutter and violent disarray!”
W: (Unconcerned) “Those are your words. Not mine. Speak for what you wish, Sire.”
M: (Angry) “And I stand here, before thee, in anger – nay, more, more! In fury!”
W: (Laughing) “For what? For the deeds that created but sticky, and grimy grains of sand for the undoubted pleasure our eyes?”
M: “And so you label our truths, our love so much! Fair indeed, you speak, Woman of Justice.”
W: (Arrogantly) “Man! Express your delights for your own delights. And, alas, there the circle and reality ends – and it ends only for you. That is one morsel of truth for you to ponder. What we ‘created’ and what we ‘loved’ was never and never, ever be the same for you as it is for me. Are you a sincere believer that your personal vision is the same sight all other seeing creatures envision?”
M: (Angry) “Woman, you enrage me! Your arrogance is drenching thine rags.”
W: (Sarcastic) “Tis the Man with no reason who allows his breath and words to be a veritable cesspool of fuming stenches!”
M: “But I, that I am, no longer can define your contours?”
W: (Pointedly) “Precisely, Man, precisely. Perhaps, now you have come closer to the vulnerable shores of reality!”
M: (Confused) “Do you express that you are ever varying and so for that reason there is not a one unified you?”
W: (Calmly) “For we are all ‘varying’, to borrow your word – if you do so allow me, Sire. There was never ‘unity’ of soul, nor mind, nor self, nor of any one personality. This, I desire, that you may understand.”
M: (Aghast) “Then if that be your truth and then, are we naught but multitudes of ever changing confusions, Lady of the Desert?”
W: (Calmly) “Yes and no! For those who are muscular and full of fertile vigour in their flesh, and in their intellects, and those that are severely and strictly scholastic, then they do need and they can succeed in time, in their never ending struggle to bring together the mutually antagonistic factions of that which constitutes our beingness. And, as for the dense brained soulless beings, then, it is equally veritably true that, a descent into madness can be rapidly produced, since from their erratic constituents, they cannot attract together these antagonistic and mutually-hating emotions in some vision of cohesion, and thus mayhem can be fashioned.”
(Silence)
M: (Calmly) “So, pray do tell me, where does Love and Justice and Truth and Morality stand in your universe?”
W: (Serenely) “That has been mine desire to hear the words being produced from your lips, Man!”
(Pause)
W: “So, now perhaps, your sight may be getting clearer, for your question is certainly apt. Foremost, we pathetic mortals, we the be are forever slimy specks of sand that  crumbles, must necessarily seek to survive and flourish within whatever forest, desert, meadow we find ourselves cast upon.”
M: (Startled) “At what cost, Woman? At the expense of Morality?”
W: (Rapidly) “Yes and no.”
M: (Shocked) “Horrendous! How can you spout out such filth?”
W: (Quietly) “Restrain your stupidities, and give more room to your intelligence, Sire.”
(Silence)
W: (Gracefully) “In times of trouble, what can Man do when he be forced to embrace evil, even though he finds the act of the embrace loathsome, but he does what he does for the truth of his vital existence to continue. Only when he need never embrace vile, and then allows himself to commit the act, then he is for certainty to incur the everlasting wrath of God. Evil is thus never one truth to be utterly rejected, perchance you may now see. ”
M: (Calm but Tired) “I follow your words and their ideas therein.”
W: (Gracefully) “When you talk to me on Man and everlasting, conflicting changes within that self-same creature, I tell you with all the earnestness that I possess, of what God has scattered and endowed upon me; for this beast, we all call in unity Man, this creature has far too many a numberless number of mutually self-contradicting, distrusting, loving, hating, inspiring and a never ending number of feelings and emotions that are in constant flow and change – as in any rapid river descending unto its eventual destination, which in its case, is the sea, while in our case, it is Death itself for sure.”
M: (Despair) “And how can this beast ‘love’ anyone within this welter of confusion?”
W: (Rapidly) “He cannot!”
M: (Rapidly, Begging) “But Man and Woman do love with bristling passions! Do you deny that, Woman?!”
W: (Calmly, eyes downwards looking) “Yes, and no. Since the beast has needs, based on his vastly intricate constituents, to ‘love’ his fellow beast, he imagines and believes
627

The Tint I cannot take—is best—
The Color too remote
That I could show it in Bazaar—
A Guinea at a sight—

The fine—impalpable Array—
That swaggers on the eye
Like Cleopatra’s Company—
Repeated—in the sky—

The Moments of Dominion
That happen on the Soul
And leave it with a Discontent
Too exquisite—to tell—

The eager look—on Landscapes—
As if they just repressed
Some Secret—that was pushing
Like Chariots—in the Vest—

The Pleading of the Summer—
That other Prank—of Snow—
That Cushions Mystery with Tulle,
For fear the Squirrels—know.

Their Graspless manners—mock us—
Until the Cheated Eye
Shuts arrogantly—in the Grave—
Another way—to see—
Andrew Rueter Mar 2018
I argue
To harm you
The protective computer screen
Allows me to be rude or mean
Without feeling your pain
So it becomes a game
Or a simulation of fame
If I can ignore the shame

The tread is wearing off the tire
After the internet stripped
The rubber off the telephone wire
And we lost our loose grip
After being shocked
By the rest of the flock
Their existence
Shows a difference
That is hard to accept
We're not what we expect

We push the boundaries of communication
But we can't handle the technology
I feel it gives me social immunization
But I feel the darkness follow me
And swallow me
Until I'm wallowing
Yet I don't know why
I try to ignore it
Only if it gets me high
Will I be for it

This utilitarian keyboard
Should help me see more
Instead it transcribes my anger
As I turn into an electric stranger
The words on my pixelated screen
Do not reflect my childhood dreams
But the bitterness of dreams being crushed
My petulant reactions are thoughtlessly rushed
And I represent my views in a negative way
Until I'd be more useful with nothing to say

There is a need for empathy
In the electronic discourse
Right now there is only entropy
And words without remorse
Spoken from a high horse
That looks down on peasants who own it
It's also a slave but doesn't even know it
So it arrogantly trots along
Never admitting that it's wrong
Until it hears the slithering snakes rattle
Then it doesn't mind wearing a saddle
But the venom has already been injected
And its mind becomes hopelessly infected

We argue without blinking
We argue without thinking
We argue with poor logic
Our ignorance we flaunt it
Until the internet is haunted
Can be found in my self published poetry book “Icy”.
https://www.amazon.com/Icy-Andrew-Rueter-ebook/dp/B07VDLZT9Y/ref=sr_1_1?keywords=Icy+Andrew+Rueter&qid=1572980151&sr=8-1
MdAsadullah Dec 2014
Allah was his ears
As sounds unlawful, unethical it never heard.
Secrets, gossips and rumours were also barred.
It buzzed with words of Quran day and night
Always Open to sounds just and upright.

Allah was his eyes
As it looked parents, orphans and needy with love
Brimmed with tears thinking of Almighty above
It never despised his brother and from lust it was freed.
Gold and silver had no worth and had no signs of greed.

Allah was his hands
As it stopped things reprehensible with force
In Allah's cause spent abundantly his resource
It caressed the head of an orphan in affection.
Time and again meekly raised it in supplication.

Allah was his feet
As it never moved towards things which Allah hate
Avoided walking arrogantly with a strutting gait
It always ran to help downtrodden, oppressed.
For knowledge for light it was on constant quest.

He had mountains of obligatory good deeds
He had mountains of non-obligatory good deeds
His protector was Allah The Almighty
His enemy was enemy of Allah The Almighty
He was beloved of Allah
He was friend of Allah
He was Wali of Allah
He was Waliullah.
Meztli Apr 2015
Permission to speak, I am the ally of the silenced and unheard.
I am the noise you can't shake.
Two sharp points like the accents I carry on my tongue.
I slither and squirm as I observe what they have done to you.
It's a tragedy what they think of you and how arrogantly they use you for self proclaimed prophecies.
No! I am not that! I yell loudly, but only the echo replies.
Incarceration, deportation, degradation, gentrification some of the words that burn as I spit them out.  
False ideologies are accepted as realities ignoring the facts.
I am not illegal and you don't have the right to label or decide.
I am not a criminal, never was.
Don't obstruct my academic path, I will jump each and every obstacle one by one.
I was born free, you labeled and shackled me with lies and hatred but I broke loose.
With my forked tongue I battle your double sided knife.
I am not content with the destructive pattern that has emerged with your avarice.
I will not **** for you and I will not die in vain.
My snake like tongue has no mercy and will not cease until I see dignity and peace obtained.
Crystal Erickson Dec 2014
Sailing through sheer jagged thoughts
and cool running dreams
The merciless curse of emotion
overflowing the exhilarating streams

Witnessing the chaotic times
of the dark and ancient old
when the mystifying warriors heart
was branded honorable and bold

ever drifting ever more
in this sea without a shore
through this land of legends and lore
ever drifting evermore

Floating ever aimlessly
through translucent waters
seeing the weak of mind from this plane
exiling their sons and daughters

While beasts of burden trudge from within
the midsts of juxtaposing viking ships
ships of war and plague and death
that obliviously vanish within a breath

ever drifting evermore
in this sea without a shore
through this land of legends and lore
ever drifting evermore

Sailing after those laden beasts
that which so arrogantly stray
you see those morbid souls of life
so ominisqueskly carried away

To the ***** delight and warmth
of the strong and merciful earth
Away from this unknown land
Of legends miraculous birth

ever drifting evermore
in this sea without a shore
Through this land of legends and lore
ever drifting evermore


© Crystal Erickson 1999
I have been told this should be a song, however it was written as a poem!
Valerie Jan 2011
When I met you I didn't think it would be this way
In fact I had my eyes on someone else
But really that was just a step in your direction
And more help to find myself.

And when I found myself
In one all-night-long conversation of digging deep in my soul
I realized that was just a stepping stone
To where I am now, just another paid toll.

Your image had been so foggy in my mind
I knew not of who you were
And not of who you could be
Or even of the power
You had over me.

It was a gradual pull
Tugging me towards you
A look through a crowd
A brief touch while walking across a room.

As I recall now
I vaguely knew of the connection
How gravity would pull us together
Without me paying any attention.

I let you keep me
You asked so sweetly
My head told me no
But my heart disagreed.

I answered with a kiss
The one you had been craving
I let you have no more
I had secrets I was saving.

And look at where we are now
Many adventures have been had
And many more to come
There hasn't been an inch of anything bad.

I'm madly in love
Completely clumsy over you
Totally twitter-painted
With everything you are and everything you do.

A night without you is insanity
As much as it is good for me
The space is as nice as it is lonely
But that's a healthy thing to be.

I could just lay in bed with you all day
Lounging arrogantly in the ****
I enjoy it the most
But going out is good too.

And I suppose I'd probably get sick
Of lounging all the time
The rarity is so fun
And probably why it feels so nice.

I could get lost in your eyes
And stare at you forever
I swear love is like a drug...
Can we stay addicted together?

Forever.

Take my hand in yours
I'll tell you all that's in my heart
Open all my doors
And this is only the start.

Let's take on the world
I'll be your mastermind
I can't do it without you
And we've got plenty of time.

Our love can conquer anything
That's not something that I just feel
But something I know
Something that is stable and real.

I love you, I love you, I love you!
I wish I had a better phrase
I'll scream it at the top of my lungs
'Til I'm blue in the face.

But that will never entirely describe
Exactly how I feel
That's why I write all these rhymes
To express in full detail.

Don't ever let me go
Don't ever let me go
I had to say it twice
To get my point across
Once just wouldn't suffice.

I hope you know what you're getting yourself into
I know I say this a lot
And if I had the appropriate words
I'd tell you exactly what you've caught.

Me.

This is all me right here
And if you don't approve
You can **** it
Cause this is what you got yourself into.

So here I am
All my heart put into words
And as the time goes by
My emotions continue to stir.

And create something tangible
Of stability and strength
Like a rope it braids
Into a hearty and on-going length.

So let's rule the world together
Just take it over
Grand supreme exalted dictator
And your mastermind lover.
SSK<3   AKA: Valerie Garcia
astronaut May 2016
I'd go to the airport an hour before the arrival time of your plane even though I know it'll arrive an hour late.
I'd go an hour early because I want us to share your first experience of Egyptian timing.
Egypt is not bound to the pace in which Earth loops her way around the sun like the lake swan, because Egypt has always preferred belly dances to ballet and it shows well in weddings.

I'd take you to your first Egyptian street wedding.. Show you how we set it up using khayameya, the same khayameya we use for funerals.

I'd grab a handful of Cairo's juxtaposition, and have you stick your tongue out and taste it.
I'd take you to the poorest neighborhood in Cairo, and let you see how rich it is.
dirt in abundance
azans in abundance
smiles in abundance
and colloquial namecalling in abundance.

I'd grab a handful of Cairo's juxtaposition, and have you stick your tongue out and taste it.
I'd take you to khan El Khalili, where you'd get lost between the smell of kebab and the scent of musk.
I'd take you to each silver shop there and count with you Hamsas as if we're counting stars and looking for the little prince.
I'd hold your hand each time we see a Hamsa.
I'd grab you by the hand and take you to the palm reader in the old ahwa that smells of antiquity yet serves fresh minted tea.
I'd  grab you by the hand because that's where your heart line is.
I'd take you to the Nile afterwards because that's where my heart line is.

I'd grab a handful of Cairo's juxtaposition, and have you stick your tongue out and taste it.
I'd take you at evening on a Feluka louder in sound and light than one of your nightclubs, and let you see how it shatters the night as if it’s made of glass.
I'd take you at morning on a Feluka where the glass towers are, and let you see how arrogantly they stand on the river bank.
I'd love you until noon on a Feluka where our view would be the clean cold glass towers' reflection on the ***** warm Nile.
I'd name that Feluka "clean sheets are not the warmest"

I'd grab a handful of Cairo's juxtaposition, and have you stick your tongue out and taste it.
I'd take you on a journey on the 6th of October bridge, and let you see how the cars walk hand in hand like lovers, but keep on honking, breaking, leaking, like it's the end of their relationship.
I'd take you to downtown where street vendors are screaming their lungs out so loud that, due to the physical laws of the universe, their vigorous voices are no longer heard

I'd grab a handful of Cairo's juxtaposition, and have you stick your tongue out and taste it.
I'd take you to the wall protecting the Israeli embassy, but I won't get you too close so that you won't smell the scent of accumulated
****, **** that smells of pollution, salt, and sorrow.
I'd take you to the wall protecting the Israeli embassy but I won't let you stand too far away.
I'd take you the wall protecting the Israeli embassy and I'd take a step forwards with you, just one step so that we'd be close enough to see the rumble, and then I'll show you no more.
I'd take you to the wall protecting the Israeli embassy and let the rumble show you Egypt...
let the rumble show you the revolution...
let the rumble show you the sting of
عيش
حرية
عدالة اجتماعية
كرامة انسانية
carved as graffiti to be rewritten no matter how many times the government washes it away.

I'd grab a handful of Cairo's juxtaposition, and have you stick your tongue out and taste it.
I'd take you to the pyramids at night.
I'd buy us lemonade and tell you why I prefer using stones to metaphors.

I'll take you to my home and show you why this city is so worthy of love..
Why this city is so grey..
so loud..
so cruel..
and so beautiful.
عيش حرية عدالة اجتماعية كرامة انسانية means "bread, freedom, social justice, human dignity".
Ekym Reyotem Jan 2019
Throughout the course of this life, I, just like you, have made my fair share of mistakes. To compensate for this & also out of a fear of letting others down or causing pain or suffering to anyone other than myself, over the years I have tried to hone to almost perfection, the habit of seeing down the line when it comes to the decisions I make and the chances I take.
But alas, no one is perfect, especially not I.

Although I was compelled to grow up long ago, I feel as though I am still a young man, a young man with old values. Values like honor, loyalty, dignity and a wonderful sense of shame. A trait which I feel compliments the first three aforementioned values quite well.
Traits far removed from the gooey 'Quick’mix’d Battered' personalities we find ourselves standing shoulder to shoulder with in the oven of today’s irreversible societal meltdown. Everyone seems to have forgotten to teach their off-spring of that which makes life worth living & keeps the world turning. Which is of course, living for others just as much as we live for ourselves. Unfortunately, due to the selfish pace of today, rarely is anyone noticed for their gestures towards humanity. The reason for this phenomenon, being of course; Man Kinds evolution into the Narcissistic Vampire he is today. And as a result of this, not only do our efforts towards one another merely go unnoticed & unappreciated, it's far worse than that, courtesy is no longer even recognized for what it is, is rarely reciprocated, and has thus been phased out completely. And as a result of this; Man Kinds new triumphant mutation, 'The All-consuming Ego', is free to simply **** the meaning out of all that was once so valuable to the fabric of human society, while arrogantly presuming to be deserving of it all anyways, regardless of it's contribution to anyone or any thing.
Now the ego acts as a new type of biological O rgan,
an invisible 'Iron Lung'. Processing the very niceties that once separated us from the beasts, as if they were just like any other natural resource. But there is a difference & that difference is that these are human resources and in my opinion are just as valuable as the air we breathe, and just as nourishing as the sweet waters we drink. Manners are things to be noticed, cherished and savored. They are decency's. Gifts, that when given & returned, should impart on us the feeling of being recognized for our own decency and our own efforts towards our fellow man.
However, since Man has placed his Ego at the forefront, where once stood the Human Heart, 'It' now sits at the receiving window of human courtesies, absorbing and indifferent. So instead, it all goes unnoticed, unrecognized and underappreciated just like a gulp of air and is simply exhaled without a second thought, or a shred of gratitude as to how precious it really was.

If you were able to ask a fish, to name one thing which It considered to be both the most obvious aspect of his environment and also the thing most essential to the survival of its species, the last thing it will mention is the water.
Ask a man today the same question, but replace the words “his environment” with “humanity” and the last thing He will mention is another human being.

But I digress…

You'll have to excuse me. I am after-all a true romantic in every sense of the word and I have always been quite partial to dramatic effect.
I consider myself a realist, a term all too often confused with having a negative outlook. I beg to differ. In a world gone mad, I just prefer to keep my eyes wide open and my head in the game, as opposed to having it shoved all the way up my own a$$ like most. And although the world may not be so pretty out here, at least it’s real, as am I.
Allow me to make something abundantly clear, I never have been, nor will I ever be, anyone special.
And being aware of these facts is still far better than pretending that both of them are anything other than just that, facts.
I find no comfort in self-congratulation, delusions, or deliberate oblivious ignorance.
I am what I am.

What more can I say?
Another year come and gone and just like the rest of the world, it seems things for me too have only grown worse.
I am full of regret, all old, and none new. And for the exceptions of my Daughter and the Almighty Himself, I apologize for nothing and to no one else. After a lifetime of experiences and lessons learned, all that I am truly certain of, is that I am still here. And unfortunately, so are most of you.
And I am also still standing. Upright, with both feet planted firmly in reality and God willing, that is exactly how I intend to remain. There is not one ****** thing in this world which I have any control over and everything I have ever wanted, I have never gotten, and everything I have ever had, has been taken from me.
And yet here I remain, standing till the day I die. And when that day comes, the depth of the grave will have to be dug twice as deep, so as to bury me upright & on my feet.
Immovable-
Nat Lipstadt Aug 2013
Mashup Part III


I mashup me, myself, and thee: Part III

Excerpts from my poems posted after July 16th, 2013,
about poets, poetry
and the process of composition.  
This time, in a disorder all their own,
for my own words,
Did not consult me.
-------------------

When inspiration is imprisoned,
insight,
a crime-of-no-passion victim,
strangled by codification,
clothed in a prison uniform,
where uniform be another word for a
poet's death sentence.
~
If you courage enough to
Call yourself poet, then
It is audacity, not blood,
Warming your extremities,
So foolishly try, always be prepared to fail.

~
Commandeer the words hidden within,
Sort them by rhyme and meter,
Answer the critics,
bend them over to your way,
Write your own poetry,
fearing no ones judgement,
Put your self out there,
I have so many times.
Death, betrayal, disillusionment,
Regular visitors in the upstate prison cell
of my head,
Are all greeted with
new poems of old words,
Sent packing,
but confident in their inevitable return,
I write defensively between their visits,
Best prepared,
a good offense is eloquent literacy.
~
The clouds were magnificent.
No, I cannot write a poem about the cloud colors.
Their shape shifting inexhaustible,
Mine eyes high on their creativity,
I'm just not good enough a poet to tamper with that sky.

~
You who write after midnight
Of razor blades, pills and shotguns,
And not marked two decades even,
on this planet,
You want hard,
Write a poem about a sunset in ways never done before.

The saddest poem ever wrote
Was not yours, where you titillate with daring words
Razors, pills etc.,
The saddest poem ever writ
Was this one,
a meager vanity to capture a
Sunset that keeps trying every day to
Surpass
Supersede
Its previous glorious failure,
Like we should too.
Keep trying
~
I will write about pain,
Arrogantly, as if there is any unused combination of
Letters, vowels and consonants left unspoken, *****,
Having sworn not to, for pain is cumulative.

Asking myself,
Which is greater?

The pain of
creation, inception, origination and birth,
The pain of  
wreck and ruin, destruction and death.

Homework Self-Assignment:
Compare and Contrast

Suddenly, I am expert.

Creating a poem a day is very painful.
A poem that is the sum of
Reflection, research, and purging.

~
Here, surrounded by the gentle breezes of
Long Island Sound and Gardiners Bay,
Sweet and salty flavors
of the Peconic atmosphere,
Words unlocked,
from your eyes to the page fall,
Smudged by joyous tears,
for the muses of the island
Have embraced you yet again and rebirthed
Inspiration,
within their comforting, sheltering grasp.
~
With deep regrets and promises solemn,
Adieu, Adieu my friends, bay and chair,
sunlight extraordinaire,
wait for me!
This poem but my R.S.V.P.
an oath of return sworn,
for I am man, placed here only
to sing the praises of my earthly delights,
my truest friends,
I sing of thy grace,
Grace Before A Meal

~
If not for you:

I would weep more.

I would weep less,
(so many tears of joy!).

My carousel, horse back riding days,
would be over, ended.

I would never make a bed unasked
(but it gives you so much pleasure).

I would live on Frosted Flakes
and microwaved hot dogs

I would die w/o ever seeing
someone weep
after reading my poetry.

For that alone...
~
Let us intimate a Poetic Competition,
Tween an Irish lass,
and a New York Jew,
I shall serve, and you,
You shall return

A contest:
Our tongues, our racquets.
Across the table,
The words, shall birdie fly,
Across the net,
Couplets and haikus
Shall smash and whistle

The winner will be the one
The God of Poetry
Accepts for permanent servitude

And the only lingua Franca
Shall be darts of poetry
In a language our own,
A collective work we will weave,
A blessed unity, a single tongue now,
Lilting, singing, bespoke

~
explicate and deconstruct
our unexamined lives,
help us to extend the boundaries,
record the voyages of our timepieces,
declare us all free and victors,
file away the chains of language
and declare us all poets
~
The reality of this composition
of kisses incessant,
of hugs galore,
tears and thoughts,
is for you, for us,
for now, for whenever,
for our forever, whatever that be,
but that too, limitless,
for this poem will be stored,
incised in our conjoined hearts
and in our genes

~
They say speak to her, she can hear you,
But the evidence is contradictory,
I am not convinced.
When no else is there,
I stroke her head and
whisper in her ear,
"It's ok, time to let go, my mother fair."

You think to yourself alone,
This is not poetry,
This is real,
This is an extraordinary
Daily occurrence,
Life or death warfare.
~
Write clean and clear,
Let the sheerest wonderment
of a new combination,
Be the titillation
of the tongue's alliteration,
No head scratching
at oblique verbal gestation,
Let words clear speak,
each letter a speck,
That gives and grants
clarification, sensational.

You,
afternoon quenching Coronas, wearing white T shirts,
Sun glazes
and later,
a summer eve's Sancerre,
Wave-gazing on the reality
of rusted beach chairs,
Babies sandy naked,
washed in waves of Chardonnay,
The traffic-filled word-way highways and bay ways,
Exiting at the Poet's Nook,
for exegesis & retrieval.

Write of:
Body shakes and juices,
skin-staining tongues,
Taking her, afternoon, unexpectedly,
her noises your derring-do!
Broken
tear ducts,
the Off switch,
so busted,
write about
Real stuff.

~
Lipstadt-Roth, Miriam
née Peiman, 1915~2013,
passed peacefully Sat. July 20th.  
Critic, speaker, writer,  
her fiercest feat, her leading role, creator.      

A near century of memories  
her legacy, memories that  
         linger not, for incised,        
chiseled in the granite of the books, papers,
and poetry
              and the very being of her descendants.            

Her faith in Almighty, unflagging, for He did not    
forsake her in the time of her old age,
when her strength failed.

~
Write not in fear of dying
Angels delivering bad news in vacuum tubes,
Write joyous, psalms of loving life,
Live like your writing,
Write like your living,
**So you may die well.
Amen.
The ~ and demarcates a stanza from a different poem
Nat Lipstadt Jul 2013
Which Is Greater?

I break a vow.
A serious vow.

In a place, in this site,
Where the fluid pain
Is the water of the world,
The element that is crux,
The amniotic liquor of creative flux,
The morning juice,
The afternoon caffe,
The first beer of the day,
The liquid that we rinse and spit out our every day,

I will write about pain,
Arrogantly, as if there is any unused combination of
Letters, vowels and consonants left unspoken, *****,
Having sworn not to, for pain is cumulative.

Asking myself,
Which is greater?

The pain of creation, inception, origination and birth,
The pain of  wreck and ruin, destruction and death.

Homework Self-Assignment: Compare and Contrast

Suddenly, I am expert.

Creating a poem a day is very painful.
A poem that is the sum of
Reflection, research, and purging.

Once I wrote:

The poem is the afterbirth,
A conflicts resolution, an outcome,
Battlefield debris, the residue of
An exacting vision, a sentiment surging,
And your army of words, inadequate to the task,
Fighting to capture that insight flashed,
Each word a soldier, disheveled,
Crying, let me live, let me be saved,
Let me make a poem,
Let it be inscribed upon my victorious flag.

The poem is the sweat left upon the brow,
Having exercised the five senses,
The salt of struggle and debate,
It's completion, each word,
Both a victory and a defeat.


Suddenly, I am  expert.

My mother is dying.
It is a process. Days pass,
She neither eats or drinks,
Yet she lives on.

I watch each labored exhalation,
A subtraction, a countdown,
It is as if she was returning each singular day,
Every word e're spoke, every dream dreamt,
she ever possessed to the atmosphere,
One breath at a time.

Is that painful?
It is for me.

Now you complain. They're different, not to be compared, et cetera.

Pain is pain,
Whether it is in the service of creation, or
Creative destruction.

Once I wrote:

With each passing poem,
I am lessened within, expurgated,
In a sense part of me, expunged,
Part of me, passing too,
Every poem's birth diminishes me.


So, one and the same?

Nope. Yes. But. Cannot one be the greater?
Yes, one is greater.
When I lay on my deathbed,
I will exhale the answer
Into the atmosphere
For your retrieval.
Greater. Think upon it.
~~~~~~~~
Lipstadt-Roth, Miriam née Peiman, 1915~2013,
passed peacefully Sat. July 20th.  

Critic, speaker, writer,  
her fiercest feat,                    
her leading role, creator.      
A near century of memories  
her legacy, memories that  
linger not, for incised,        
chiseled in the granite of the
books, papers, and poetry
and the very being              
of her descendants.            

Her faith in Almighty,            
unflagging, for he did not    
forsake her in the time of      
her old age, when                  
her strength failed.
Sybl Aug 2014
"She is clothed in strength and dignity and laughs without fear of the future" -Proverbs 31:25

A noble woman.

Noble - having or showing fine personal qualities or high moral, royal principles and ideals.

Knowing this, I ask myself, 'is he worthy of being graced by my *royalty
?'
No.
And me, being so fine, why should I EVER have to dry my eyes as a result of his peasantry?
[You shouldn't']
Then I think about how moral I am, and all the good I gave to that man, things that no average woman can,
[He's silly]
So, keeping all of that in mind, I ask myself,
'Should a Noblewoman cry as much as I?'
[No.]
Lastly, should my dignity, hard earned, clothing me, be compromised for a man with 4 eyes, 1 mouth (full of lies), 2 hands that never had the courage to meet the small of my back, 2 legs that walk around here (arrogantly) like the gold was sitting betwixt his thighs and not mine.
[I'm not finished yet]
1 pipe, that I longed for, didn't even care if it was long or...
26 short teeth that I gave my all to make sure were always showing
1 pair of pants that were too tight anyway
1 face that I didn't get to see much, but it doesn't even matter because it wasn't cute anyway.
[Hell n-]
The nerve of that man.

So in strength, I'll move on, striding fearlessly into the future, laughing even after so much suffering, because I'm too fine, too dignified, too good ANYWAY.

D, Noblewoman
"and he was just sitting in the house, sweating. FANNING himself. ugh"
Ugh.
Mark Lecuona Jan 2012
Virtual life isolation is considered VIP seating as all who may enter are pre-screened in a self-preservation dance of solipsism as strained honesty pours from my fingers onto the digital RGB floor only to harden intermingled with the lives of dissonant strangers who reciprocate eagerly in revealing their weaknesses in a prosaic waltz across a frozen dreamscape where our misunderstood inner souls are reflected back to us as they float in monolithic mass on top of the depths of final judgment. Rather than providing final victory to the daily control alternate delete lather rinse repeat boot of my innermost fantasies and trauma which are as random as my physical interactions it seems recently and most superficially I was moved to speak of a self-assured young woman cleverly drawing confidence off the bottom of the deck while casually discarding competence who is triumphantly opening a high-end eatery of sorts but with time I find she is only the manager and after all prefers not to talk business because my questions have exhausted her ego-infested opening line as she stuffed her face with samples of diabolical confections soon to be marketed under the guise of pretentious cuisine for the beautiful people as we exhaust ourselves each day enduring the ambitious one-dimensional high-riser who wishes for depth never seen or heard in personal conversation but now the standard error of his own estimate deviates from the arrogantly leveled but just plain wrong command uttered in disdain to those who have actually lived with the people represented by mooted numbers begging to be deleted and yet I remain challenged by a life-long puzzle as I try not to make eye-contact but somehow still absorb the possible useful loaves and fishes of the God-fearing seeker of salvation that has been promised and now must be advertised as available in a never-ending give away as long as I humble myself in the prescribed manner neither to the left or right but squarely as King James promised he understood but on the other channel the drones of war which made prophetic the words of the old general who lamented the possible obsolescence of heroism and cowardice reminding of a futuristic movie as it now seems I am cheering for the death star or possibly the machines that travel time back in order to **** the very person who would bring soul forward to remind the company that people and not profits are what God allows through the eye of the needle. In spite of all this my smiling children know I love them deeply and there is no place that pain can be so welcome as in my heart to suffer willingly and openly until they are able to look at me and understand my ways and my decisions which may never be fully communicated because if God does shockingly exist then the revelation of truth will be delivered when they finally open the box that contains their thinking minds and the mysteries that may require further illumination. In a rush for meaning the virtual tour of all that touches my life is completed without fanfare and yet I cannot know who or what I am other than a mad ball of pain and confusion masquerading as a competent oar in the river of legal tender which I continue to worship as the answer to all manner of doubt.
Just some musing after another happy hour of phony's.....
Liam May 2013
Exclusively molded in the divine image
  or egos big enough to declare it so
A dangerous theory
  a disastrous belief system

Gardeners of Eden
  turned stewards of entropy
Superiority conquest of nature
  symbiotic balance forsaken
  
Jealous hoarders of spirituality,
  sentience, self-awareness, intelligence
The irrational glorification of reason
  despite a history of upheaval and war

Bullies on the playground of manifest destiny
  exploitive excess worshiped as progress
Arrogantly intoxicated on the dregs of Pandora's jar
  blindly stumbling toward self-destruction 

Welcome to the valley of the shadow of death
             Environmental Armageddon
"So long, and thanks for all the fish" - Douglas Adams
Hal Loyd Denton May 2013
Words found in the wind supreme telling boisterous antagonistic they form in the great ocean they
Come they challenge everything and much is changed the sea cleanses land and its tenuous hold
Everything fair and precious must find a harbor a defiant manner to endure broken trees exemplify the
Hardy the uncompromising bend you must if broken it only gives up the dead and weak branches if up
Rooted it only shows the growth of deception that presented itself as truth all trivia superficial living will
Be reveled in the wind that which is rock solid and is built on a solid foundation will only flourish the
Storm is its bestowing gift these matters deeply rotted in the emotional center of the heart heeds the
Elemental force brought to bear by the wind it stands and shows its power that is not fake or foreign
But has a lasting place that grows because it is pure and is undaunted by assailing contradictions its
Value claims a root system born of time and reason compromise and injustice has never been found in
The hidden places of the heart there is no hidden agenda friend or foe is welcome to look and see to a
Friend it speaks of deep comfort knowing that all is open and it will stand any test and afford great help
In time of trouble the enemy will find a formidable foe not all enemies are without worth in the struggle
You can acquire skill and knowledge that will give you resources that will guide you to hidden veins of
Gold that can be found in no other way a rich life compared to one of poverty is to be much desired in
The lax uncommitted world of anything goes but that is about to change our enemies have found the
Formula that no one can win against its deadly poison the nation so grandly founded will turn on its own  
People to try to survive it will survive but a different streamlined and hardened one we believe it will be
An Outcome of good as weakness and folly are thrown off and the core values in much smaller form will
Continue sadness will pervade our world because of lost glory and our guilt that brought the big
Upheaval that reduced the heritage our children should have inherited this started with the sea wind so
I will insert this earlier piece and then continue
Sea Thoughts
Oh stand thy great waters contained in thee is mirth and terror some you have beguiled and then
Have taken them to your depths of destruction but by your benevolence the sea breeze blows
Inland from this moisture rain is called from its dwelling place the earth is refreshed the tides
Have cosmic ties by gravity the lone solitary moon is entreated and responds one speaks if only
There was a love potion that I could give my beloved so she would respond to me favorably it
Can never be created it already exists go out into the mysterious night stand under a great tree its
Dark silhouette will be more bewitching than the days shade speak your heart as you do take her
Hand and stroll out into the moon beams that drew magic from the great waters as it passed over
Does not wonder advance in this light softer exquisite the hardness of life bows and retreats to
Wait the daylight hours where harshness has its intrepid way so it leaves you with the volumes’
Darkness of night every person desires excursions into intrigue shadows will touch your faces
As tender as the willow then the soft glare of the moons love the mind and heart as its signature
Equation that old crazy moon has moves that are centuries old that birth love every time romance
And her broadest throne follow and are attended by moon light to develop a relationship
Correctly don’t go to the artificial neon lights that are futile and tinged with wickedness but
Sea side strolls are the ultimate inducement a pure stimulus that thwarts the too often knotted
World that keeps everyone at odds with one another everyone knows a great deal of love and
Romance when they are younger to revisit those cherished memorable times that started your
Life of promise with your beloved is invaluable mature love needs to feel the saturation of sea
Breezes the moons ghostly sights will fill in deep shadows where hurts have collected they need
To be free so they can go back to the darkness that gave them life your lives shouldn’t be defined
by them But the deep calleth to the deep set sail for Trafalgar not to war with enemy ships but to
sign With tender’s hand a peace accord to stitch the soft fabric of love that life’s mean elements
can rend in this you will find the sea’s glory and the moons positive glow has become a true part
of your life it is time the spring of renewal is in the offing and it sways to love’s song this speaks
Of man and women’s love this speaks of God’s love they saw the works of the LORD, his wonderful deeds in the deep.
____________
Sing to the LORD a new song, his praise from the ends of the earth, you who go down to the sea, and all that is in it, you islands, and all who live in them
I inserted this because the piece was running hard and it’s not my purpose to be negative or black
With troubling thoughts but at the sea you will find tumult and danger and at this time it echoes
Financial woes that are buffeting are precious nation there will be a resolution but not a pretty
One there are laws mathematic ones that you dare not trifle with but we have people who
Arrogantly hold office and think they can do as they please and all will magically fall into place
Because they wish it to be so it has never been true since earth began and will be no different
Now all will suffer as the same as the guilty but in extreme hope and faith possibly those seeds
Of greatness that was our true heritage will weather the storm and will re surface with pure
Power and grace that will create within each of us the true an unending love of country that will
Give us an arching back to the hearts and minds of our forefathers we will bestow a new
Beginning that Lincoln spoke of in the Gettysburg address after strife and winds that carry
Destruction there will be a new tomorrow from children who owns up to the mistakes and turns
Back to the true paths that will always assure glory and victory too many generations just like
before
Zane May 2017
Moon light falls onto my face
As i drift off into deep sleep
But before I nod off completely
I find myself wishing for you warm embrace

You see, dear
As arrogantly as the words will sound
You're meant to be with me
Not him.

Who else can conquer the raging doubts you hold?
Who but I, I alone, understand the deep labyrinth of your mind?
What even, say of your sentimentality?
Your craving for nostalgia?

You and I are emotional beings;
Only destined to find equally passionate
And feeling people

Come with me
I haven't yet lost my forgiveness.
Arrogant words i used to speak. Self-critique.
Richard.
Part of my life.
Part of my soul.
Part of my breath.
His blood is mine, just as mine is his.
And in his veins flows my love, as how his
streams tranquilly through mine.
Thou art th' light of my life, fire of my *****.
My sin, my soul. My beauty, my pride,
my ever inadequate, eternal redemption.
And th' light t'at streameth from thy eyes
is even bluer than mysterious harvest skies.
Ah, Richard, thou beareth away all my worries;
thou slaughtereth away my dire mistakes
and breathless past sorries.
Oh, Richard, thou art my boy,
and which boy in t'is world
does not want to spring about-
and into th' pair of open arms
t'at are ready to welcome thee?
Every laughter of thee is my parody,
but tears of thee are my misery;
Thou art forever my grateful sunlight,
and in thy innocent young heart
t'ere is neither fear, nor grief, nor fright;
Thou put myself at ease at day
and give me my courteous dreams at night,
thou art more than pure gold can pay;
and even what truth canst judge as right.

Richard, my precious young Richard
Soon as I captured thy words,
I was trapped in thy epic worlds;
I fell in love with th' invisible thee,
ah, and at t'at time, not my fleshy thee;
but thy fruitful, lively words so keen
in front of me, on my deep blue screen.
Richard, thou deafened my heart and soul
And as dusk send days grim and cold
It was on thy words I happened to hold;
I thought about thee whenever I ate
Hoping t'at thou wouldst somehow be my fate.
I thought about thee again as I went to bed,
and in my dreams, thou wouldst remain
to smile and make my both cheeks red.
When thou once refused to appear
I was filled with gray dread and fear;
For hours I'd refuse to eat
My heart could not wait for us to meet!
Ah, Richard, th' bluest skies are in thy eyes,
and even t'ere as thou greet sunrise.
Even 'til now, t'ey are still t'ere,
as thou promised thou wouldst not go anywhere
But to stay for endless years ahead with me,
in th' name of love's gratefulness, and mercy.
Oh, Richard, if only th' heavens could see,
as t'at day I jumped about and kissed thee,
t'ey would arrogantly curse and spurn our lips,
for uttering a young love t'at was just too deep;
t'eir holiness wouldst be burnt by jealousy;
t'eir little hearts wouldst become poor, for envy.

But, Richard, to me thou art th' heavens themselves;
tell me again, th' stories of old egoistic elves,
t'at once went to steal ripe fruits in God's garden.
Ah, and whenst thou told me of which,
I hated th' young girl all of a sudden,
for I wanted to be as pretty and rich
and thee th' prince t'at I danced with.
And how t'ose staring eyes canst be so ripe-
as we glanceth about us, at resting hours
With disdain and darkness, though by daylight
But at times t'ey can shamelessly asketh for our favours
I detest t'em for which, and t'eir howling false scrutiny
Overwhelming pride, but in all joyless ignominy
T'ey know not t'ey are indeed in misery;
for to t'em misery is gladness,
and gladness is glee-
But indeed, thou art t'em not, my love!
Thou, who art as sunny as delight,
and as charming as bliss.
Thou, as always, art my blessings-
my salvation lies in thy heart;
and thy gentle sweet kiss.

Ah, Richard, and t'is poem I dedicate to thee
My very own lover and beloved,
my dearest and best friend.
Thou art worth all th' happiness in my story;
thou art my perfect hero and loving man.
And all th' prayers I had sent upwards
Wert answered just right afterwards;
And it is in thee, my love, where th' answer lies;
Thou wert my Lord's most hearty present and surprise,
My future love is fated in thine;
as how thy very own one, in mine.

Richard, we are as immersed in each other's breath,
just as our vow shall stay together until death;
Thou art th' best my soul dreamed of;
th' only one worthy of my love.
And in t'is life, thou art th' promise,
A fate I should taste, a joy I shan't miss.
Oh, Richard, whatever you do,
all is simply too genuine and true,
I hath found my love with eyes so blue;
and as I pray, I know it's you.

Fierce bushes amongst snowcapped trees
Look at how glad t'ose honeybees!
With honey sweet and voices so fair,
flow about t'ey merrily in pairs.

Just like our quickening pace of breath;
filled with desires t'at we prayed for.
Sweat t'at comes in small buds and wreaths;
breathing t'at grows heavier and sore.

Passion is all we shall have felt,
so is wholeness we once thought of.
Thy charm as immortal as death,
thy spell as eternal as love.
Colin E Havard Mar 2014
And the Hippy-dippy,
Squeaky-clean -
The tattoo'd-up
And arrogantly mean;
The never-know originality,
Mere followers of others:
Take comfort in crowds,
Talking amongst their "brothers".

Neither God-fearing,
Nor Devil-may-carers -
Just followers of fashions:
The latest and greatest,
Economically-driven
Sheep to a register's beep!
And when they die -
As they must -
To whom do they fall?
And to whom do they trust?
7-8/3/2014
Enough is Enough, 1 of 9,(Night)
Norman E Carey Jan 2012
On the other side of the pumpkin patch there lies a narrow path.
Just a dent in the woods it seems, until getting closer you can see
The ground worn smooth by those who know to use it.
A short, dimly lit way through the thick brush opens out
And suddenly you find yourself on the gravelly bank of a railroad track.

The track cuts a swath through the dense forest that leans over it
As if jealous of the ground taken from its midst.
In each direction the track finally loses itself in a tunnel of trees,
Curving out of sight to reach some distant and unknown end.

When the train comes through, robbing the woods of the solace of silence,
I wonder where it’s bound, and how long it will take to get there.
The rhythmic clacking of the wheels, the endless line of boxcars,
The power and speed of the thing arrogantly announces itself to all--
Blind to any purpose or direction other than its own inarticulate need.

As the trains moves out of sight, I look again at the empty track
And wonder about the choices I have made.
Rose L Feb 2015
I see you in colors no one else can see
As if the light had split and lay you down for me -
painfully so -
arrogantly pursuing a spectrum so elaborate...
golden and gleaming...
God, do i try to keep up:
I see you as the red green blue black that resides under our protective layer of peach
Crimson cheeks and crimson thoughts
Ivy trailing hair of such unexplainality
mundanity fails to carry your weight -
But green seemed so innocently subtle to contain those veins
that stick out like a spill against ivory eyelids
sheltering yet more purple, bronze, a bouquet of vessels -- -
oh, god-ridden terracotta of your tips
red just doesn't cut it for me and blue leaves a sticky trail in the tongue when you're just so
unashamedly golden, apricotted, sparks of whatever next that i find in your eyes
colours i couldn't mix
no matter how hard i tried.
I can't stop writing about you in full colour. I don't know what that means.
(Yeah most of the words i write aren't real words thats purposeful :/ )
JDK Nov 2015
The other me is of the dastardly type.
Quite a *******, really.
The other me likes to stay out all night,
and is awfully fond of drinking.

He says, "Y'know what your problem is?
You spend too much time thinking."

The other me doesn't take advice.
He prefers to make his own way.
He says, "You've gotta stop going with the flow,
and start making some tidal waves."

The other me is good with women,
and often calls me gay.
He says, "You'd might as well be a ****** -
that thing between your legs gets no play."

The other me is restless;
uncouth, rude, and reckless.
He takes over sometimes for days on end,
then leaves me to clean up his messes.

The other me is an *******,
with no regard for anyone but himself.
Arrogantly vain,
he puts those who care about him through hell
and drives me completely insane.

Me and the other me got into a fight today.

It started when he told me that I need him.
"Come on man, I mean, honestly.
I'm the only thing keeping you alive right now.
You're nothing without me."

(The other me likes to use the word "harmony."
He says it's a precarious balance.
"Our togetherness is destiny,"
but he'd **** me if I ever gave him the chance.)

So I hit him first when he least expected it.
You see, he'd never expect it from me,
but he laughed when he realized his nose was bleeding,
so I hit him again and he dropped to his knees.

"Dude, what the hell are you doing?
I thought we were friends . . ."
Then I leaned in real close and said,
"Stay the **** away during the work week,
and you can have every weekend."
it's only a villainous virus if you can't keep it in check.
Stefan Smith Jan 2015
I saw a homeless man
lay hopelessly
Like a frayed kite.
Patchwork intentions
conquered by his chemical imbalance.


Addiction.

I saw a business man
walk arrogantly
Like a lion after a ****.
Humbled intentions
conquered by his
instituted passion for monetary growth.



**Addiction.
Shayne Campbell Dec 2014
On the harsh, cold pavement did the failing princess lie flat
On the verge of her kingdom falling her hindsight was to ****
On the throne of Callula did Zargon cast his usurp ruthlessly
On his account had darkness plagued the country mercilessly
On her struggling breath did Serena lament her distrust for him
On past occasions was Zargon her advisor until came his dim
On the land of Callula was Serena banished from without hope
On the filthy floor in a deserted castle could be her last interlope


Callula is a land once prosperous with green, blue, and light in awe
Now it has become the domain of evil under Zargon's dark claw
All about the once-coloured land has turned to barren grey
Ash and dust have given priority to the recurring death day
The living will starve and the dead will re-establish the nation
That is unless the prophesied hero will rise to combat this damnation
But the whereabouts of such one is a mystery for there is little left
By rarity will the saviour appear for monsters occupy all of the heft


Sick with fatigue does Serena crawl for justice in the pale moonlight
Behind the rotten castle walls must she find the means for the right
How unfortunate is the abandoned place giving her little chance
To the death will she fight to save her kingdom from the evil stance
She drags her tranced self across the filthy tiles tearing her dress
An outdoor domain of rotting torture devices is a fearful mess
Weary from hiding and travelling gives Serena her mental wane
It is at this point of despair and her people dying she tears in pain


Callula's kind citizens who lived in peace are now infected with ill
Abundance was food and water but vanished into a land of chill
Zargon is the Lord of the Dark Regime and the Bringer of Shadow
His royal relations charitably bestowed upon him the greedy glow
All must bow before this usurper king or will face the eternal suffer
Resistance may be noble but will fall under the darkness smother
When Zargon attained kinghood he gave Serena her ****** exile
Beauty has bled from the devil's blade and now walks pain's mile


In a pool of her own blood does Serena now crawl ever so slow
Her rain of tears express an outcry of help in a mood of sorrow
All alone in the cold rainy weather does she fret in the torture room
Bloodied, torn, and weak she now is similar to Callula's gloom
What seemed to be her acceptance to the heavens comes a surprise halt
An unexpected warrior deters a death that was Zargon's demonic fault
Now healed and restored, Serena thanks the man with genuine love
An intimate kiss and hug under the dark sky gives her tears of the dove


Inside the darkness of the empty castle lies the secret to end evil's tide
Holding closely do the recovering princess and wily man ride
Quietly traversing the dark tunnels must they avoid waking any doom
Deep within the ancient world lies things more deadly than any boom
Serena's hope is kept alive by her love for the hero's act of saving a life
A life worth saving for she suits the throne sharper than any knife
The Kindle Sword, designed to break curses, has finally been found
Now Zargon's immortality will die for the weapon shall astound


For the land and people of Callula do the two make their royal march
Into the darkened Callula Tower shall justice they deliver to the enemy
All monsters flee in fear of the Kindle Sword that shines without mercy
The heavens' light spark in the midst of the underworld's darkness
A sign that the mighty inferno will soon perish by the incoming water
Scaling the once delicate now dreaded keep is the final step
What follows is the war between the forces of good and evil
Serena and the hero shall make their last stand against Zargon


The two valiant Callulians braved their way up through Zargon's tower
Defeating every loyal servant of the Lord of the Dark Regime's power
Upward are the stairs to the underworld as the music louder it ascends
Behind the large door of the throne lies the chance to make amends
Breathing in fear but motivated by courage do the good enter the way
Armed with the Kindle Sword and determination will create this fray
Inside the throne room do Serena and the hero meet Zargon head on
Following a sadistic grin does he arrogantly engage the battle head on


Both sides exchange turns of blows as the war rages the room apart
Walls and pillars of stone become rubble from the anger of all heart
Blades clash, energy blasted, and blood spilled for Callula's domain
Zargon stood strong but Serena and the hero soon had the upper gain
His arrogance became his downfall when stabbed by the hero's blade
The Kindle Sword's light smiting evil with all justice from it is made
Zargon collapses in a state of disbelief before his untimely death
Serena and the hero couldn't rejoice though as the building just breathed its last breath...


The last resort for Zargon was to crush Serena and the hero in the ruins
Callula Tower began to destruct as stone fell from the force of bruins
Luckily the two courageous souls escaped the oncoming collapse
Serena's future hope is to not grant evil royal power for fear of relapse
Just as the brave princess and the hero could rejoice, there was a boom
Abrupt was the immediate silence then the unexpected came to bloom...


EXPLODING FROM THE RUBBLE WAS THE ENRAGED ZARGON
INTOLERANT OF A HUMILIATING DEFEAT HIS EYES GLEW RED
THE EARTH TREMBLED AS THE HORROR LOUDLY AWAKENED;
ZARGON SLOWLY TURNED INTO A  BLOODTHIRSTY BEAST
TOWERING AND VIOLENT, THERE WAS ONLY ONE PURPOSE:
THIS INCARNATION OF ZARGON'S HATE WILL **** THEM ALL


THE LAST STAND BECAME TRUE AS THE HERO WAS KILLED
DEATH BY THE MONSTROUS ZARGON BECAME HIS FUNERAL
SERENA WEPT AND WAS ABOUT TO FLEE WHEN SHE TURNED
HER TEARS WERE NOT OF GRIEF BUT OF COURAGEOUS ANGER
SHE TOOK THE KINDLE SWORD AND FOUGHT ZARGON
TO SEEMINGLY NO END WOULD THE CEASELESS BATTLE RAGE
THE MONSTER FINALLY MET ITS FATAL DEFEAT BY THE SWORD
SEVERAL SLASHES FOLLOWED BY DECAPITATION SOLVED ALL


The Bringer of Shadow, with his fate sealed, the dark land also sealed
The green grass, blue water, and bright light returned to land their heal
The citizens relieved of the dystopian terror with the heavenly reign
Serena the princess now honours her slain royal family without the pain
As for the fallen hero, she honours her comrade with an elegant funeral
Callula is now saved and blessed with qualities beyond any numeral
The hopeless land now restored to the hopeful land, Serena shall rest
All the while she looked in retrospect that her tears were the cause for the best
Temitope Popoola Sep 2013
How do I begin this crazy tale?   
Because each time my thought's' reassembled I get pale.
Here is a situation I can't bear with grace
But glory be to God I'm in a quiet place.

When this guy and  I met,
I knew there was no rooms of gossip to let,
He was almost everything I ever wanted in a man,
Still, he can't be compared to my handsome Dan
Who left me gasping for breath with a silly fan.
Life with my neophyte love was great,
An appointment wit him I wouldn't be late.
I could get there and keep smiling like a fool,
He wouldn't know about my nervousness so we'll get through.

Moments quantified in decades rushed in on us,
Yet in reality we were only months old and so rust.
Problems splashed in like a mighty tidal wave,
That our only solitude was our emotional cave.
One night I woke up so tired and sick,
I called him and he wanted a fight to pick.
 I said "Life couldn't be all sleeky and silk",
He said "Yes,  you aint so creamy as milk"
My temper flared and my mouth raced.
He said "Your voice with me should never be raised",
My heart beat quickened, I was so amazed.
And gently and arrogantly, the receiver was replaced.
I held my own receiver in hand, with mouth gaped,
Eyes bulging out as if I would be *****.
Recalling that night, my emotions I thought I faked,
But I made up my mind to show him I was fully baked.

The morning came with dew, yet at me it snarled,
I've got no option so at it too I drawled.
I dabbed my make up on with red on my eye brow,
And to what gave me my sober reflection, a bow.
I stepped out of my house located in a ghetto,
And the only noise heard was from my stiletto,
People passing by thought I was off to a show,
But my pouting lips adorned in red said it was a row.

Got a good cab and off I went.
Reached my destination and hopped out.
The driver expected his money but I aint got honey,
So I looked at him with nose wrinkled and funny.
He hurled abuses at me before he sped off,
I knew better than to waste my time on him.
I reached my guy's room and kicked the door with a rim,
He came out angry as if he wanted to sing a war hymn.

I bounced into d room with ******* galloping,
Checking the room till i found her groping.
She hurriedly dressed up and made for d door.
I stopped her and told her "You are a sorry *****".
The following between us ensued.
Him: For doing this i could get you sued.
Me: oh come on, I'm trying not to be rude.
Him: What just happened tells you I'm a dude.
Me: So that explains seeing a girl in your bed ****?
My temper rose and fell while he squirmed,
My trust and love in my face was tossed.
I told him he was ***** and dingy,
He said my love with him has been very stingy.
My resolve broke and reminded him how we met,

He said " I don't care so go to hell",
I knew i'd see him there ringing the bell.
I pushed him so hard dat lanky him fell.
He managed a subtle laugh as he was burning.
I got scared and eventually tried running.
I knew it was the last episode of our affair,
Even though he hasn't been so very fair.
" I thought you were going to be the  man I'll marry,
but you'll make me go singly to the party.
People said to me our love will indeed tarry,
and now that it has ,i aint so happy".
When he met me months later,it was for vendetta,
but I thought of him as being in a state so mental.
Yet he was ready for a show or drama
But he said "Hey ******! Your son lives with your grandma".
I broke down and wept feeling dizzy,
For I kept that one thing to him a secret.
If I had been open so far, we would have had a purpose,
But Dan's coming to take his child and propose!
When you are a poet
you don't place yourself on a pedestal
don't spit venomous hate
think fellow writers are dismal.

When you are a poet
you don't feel a superiority
fellow writers you gleefully berate
make yourself perversely witty.

When you are a poet
your heart is a little more wide
you don't fume and fret
readers are not on your side.

If you are a poet
you know better than to be arrogantly vain
don't carry ego's sinful weight
but let your art pour through your pen.
Thinkerbelle Jul 2017
I fell in love with the way he keeps himself
so full, so sure, so arrogantly handsome yet so humbly beautiful

I fell inlove with him for all the times he stayed
through all the beating, through all the cheating,
through all the bad and good

I fell in love with his words
the way they roll out of his mouth through the clever words he speak and into my soul, he envelops me with every decibel he forms

I fell inlove with him, because he is true, because he is him

I fell in love with the way he looks at things that astound him,
the way the crease forms between his bushy brows,
you know he's thinking, you know he's about to say something
you know when he looks at you, so straight into your eyes you would think he has feelings for you,
so deep into me that the brilliant comeback I've thought of all of last night has crumbled and vanished only to be replaced by you

so then you caught me, words, out of breath, out of mind

you asked me, "what do you think?"

I thought, of how unpretentiously gorgeous you look
of the tax computation that made you question yourself, if u were in the right course
i thought of why you were so inlove with her,
I think of why I love him
but I think I'm in love with you

So I said, " I don't know"


eg
Dylan Whisman Nov 2015
the world is a painting,
naked, hung out for everyone to see.
don't be the ones who arrogantly
spatter mud as they run by
busy in their own heads,
stop and bleed your colors
through bare hands and soft fingers,
give say in humanity.
admire the painting, remove the mud,
dare to change the world.
But tis a crooked painting,
no adjustment will deny the world it's imperfection.
Hard to find inspiration, but alas I try.
Sam Barger Mar 2014
The heart is brimmed
and still,
arrogantly hollow.
Mekael Shane Feb 2014
Arrogantly
We fight over
…pieces of the earth
Ravenously
As if driven by
…blood thirst

We beasts, we stir
We ****, we pillage
…her aquifer
We dishonor creation
When we act like
…we weren't born from her

* Reprinted from 'My Hajj A Collection of Poems by Mekael'
© September 16, 2011 by Mekael Shane
Joseph Childress May 2014
Titans clashing
In writing classes
Sessions
To profess progression
Or
Progress to professions
Blessings
Brought through the lessons
Learned
In College
A student as truant
As undeserved triumph
In the form
Of a form
That says what he’s worth
Diplomas
Handed out
To show
You’re on the road
To success
The rest are asked
The ultimate question
Of “Why not?”
Embarking on the quest
When the ultimatum
Is failure

Fail lures in
Those with no ambition
Men *******
About getting papers
To show worth
Working with no
Apparent purpose
Versus
Being apparently worthless
Pairing the two
Against the view
Of a *****
Who stares at the moon
And gives a ****
About the bull
The one
Whose wit
Could split
The tightest knit
Brain
And undue the sutures
Of skulls
To undue
Their mundane
View of success

The *****
Who calls himself
A *****
With more pride
Than Aryans
Carrying his opinion
Higher
Than the mass vision
Just to show
How low
They truly are
Arrogantly ignorant
Ignore rants
Of others
And smother them
With the truth
Of knowing nothing
And understands
They’ll never understand

Overstepping the boundaries
Without
Diplomatic immunity
Yet immune
To the qualities
Of the Hippocratic views
And sees
To seize the future
You must
Tackle the present problems
You must blitz
To get you’re quarter back
If you want
To make a change
And sport all the qualities
That seem to them
Strange
Deranged
In the range
Of misunderstandings

The illusion of progress
For humans
Are usually
Said in words
And never
Set in stone
So I will throw
Sticks and stone
The stupidity that’s grown
Words hurt
But actions hurt worser

For example:
Worser
Isn’t a word
Until I worsen the
Worst situation

I’m waiting
For my chance
To blow up

So I can dumb down
Your intelligence
And smarting up
Your ignorance

If you can’t understand
You’re either too smart
Or too **** ignorant

If you’re offended
Then you’re opinion is unneeded
Because the truth
Will tear your *** to pieces
Matt Jul 2015
On the fifth tee
A raven spotted me

He walked right up
Near my ball
He was arrogantly
Standing tall

I tried to shoo him away
I had golf to play

And on the 7th hole
He was there again
To pester me
Much to my chagrin

Jesus is Lord
I pronounced to him

And with that proclamation
I poured that four foot put
Right in

A foul and hateful bird
Of ancient lore

Was this the bird
That Poe found rapping,
Rapping at his chamber door?

And on the eighth tee
There he was 20 yards
Up ahead
I could see

Perched upon a branch
Perhaps spying on me?

And near the clubhouse
As I rounded the bend
There he sat
Staring into the distance again
I don't think I have ever been more pleased with a poem.  I had a good laugh after I finished this one.   I hope you enjoy it.
You anger me. Forever lingering in the valley of False Pretense, and forcing yourself into the outskirts to support your addiction of being called weird. Who are you trying so adamantly to convince? Yourself or the opinions of the ones which you so arrogantly claim to disregard? Empty Girl.

Who are you?

Waltzing into each day with rehearsed lines and dishonest traits like a stage that is only ever the platform of acting and lies when there are people in audience. The stage that is only, in its true form and beauty, known by the poor old man who sweeps it after each play.

Your acts anger me because I act too, always so desperately in attempt to convince them that I am normal, for that acceptance that I long for when I am alone. Then you, with all the acceptance I would desire, isolating yourself to be loved more.

Who are you?

You are people. You are the popular girl who decides, in the morning when she wakes, that you will be happy today. You are the young man that touches and gropes your young thighs in the despising eyes of the public to make you feel beautiful; a lie told to you by his gentle grip, as though he needs you, and a lie that you so easily believed, as though he controls you.

who are You?

You are the one whom I would, til' the death, fight so bravely for. But how do I know which YOU to run into battle for? I cannot decide which one is true because all your costumes and make up have been used on me too.

I need to know who you are.

I need to know you so I can show you. I need to know you so I can undo all the fibs
That were force fed to you, at will, by the ones who sensed the fear in you. I need to know you so I can reassure you, and direct you the North Star that will lead you to the Land of Paradise that is you.

I want to know you.

I want to be the other, the sister, the lover. I want to make you conscious of the Divine that is within you so you may one day, after reaching the destination of your senses, run into battle with a blade heated by love to fight for one not true to themselves; and maybe even me.

I have to know you.

My knowledge in the study of your soul will allow my love not to be done by duty but by my legitimate emotions and fondness of you.
You.

The beautiful spirit that sings like a Nightingale at dark. A beautiful spirit that sings for saddened and lonely shadows and dying men that have been consumed by this heart-breaker of a world we live in, a lullaby for those who are torn apart by the fear of nightmares and forced to stay aware; awake.

I think I understand.

I think I understand you because you remind me of myself. A kid, a lonely kid. You've been taken into the arms of the loyal desire to be loved, the desire that never leaves. Like a nagging housewife that is determined to "fix" you.

I know.

Each day you wake up is another scene in a movie, and uneventful movie that nobody feels obligated to notice. Each day you try to fit into the bracket, and each day you fail it dismally.

I.

I anger myself. Forever trying to evoke pleasure in others but I. You are grown from the same root as I. You have shown me in my negative light, my eyes hurt. My eyes.

Who am I?

My obsession with discovering you has led to my own discovery, the discovery of the self-hatred that brews in my gut. The self-hatred that stands tall beside me so I do not conquer it and holds my hand, kindly and comfortingly so I never leave it. And loved ones watch, just waiting for the right moment for it to burn up my oesophagus and spill out of me, and set me free.

But it never will, until I find who I am.

Stage Girl, empty girl. These are the names that you and I have chosen for ourselves  Because we don't know who we are. If our lost souls are not found one day, our identities will be forever erased. Our identities will forever fade.

Our memory, not legendary. No thoughts, no sympathy nor respect will bring us back from the nameless dead. Our graves will have labels but no character.

No grass or plant will blossom from them because everything needs love and no true love belonged to us.

We need to know WHO we are.
Elijah Corbeau May 2014
What would you say to me
If I told you that all things
have a name?

A name, created forever ago-
A name singular, secret and sacred-
A name that grants form?

What if I told you
that if you cried out
The Name of the Moon,

You could bathe at mid-day
under its dappled, failing shine-
playing partner to its light?

That if you called to the skies
you could surround yourself
with a span of azure infinity,

Paint sun-songs with hidden words,
Or caress cloud-worn creations while
floating in blue nothingness?

To think; You could merely utter
The Name of Oceans - That
vast implication; You could

Summon distant, breaking shores
for your own inspection and approval-
To satisfy the simplest curiosity?

Would you say it was a fantasy?
Something grand to ponder;
And then regretfully forget?

That to strum the chords of creation
with key-words and mere intentions,
Is a blasphemy?

But what if... What if
I spoke to you the Name of Love,
As soft as daylight-sighs ending?

Would you scoff at my audacity,
To arrogantly manipulate its meaning
by not letting it go free?

Or would you realize, and see-
That despite all that power, I can't find
the name for what you mean to me?
Love, Rothfuss Style. (The Name of the Wind)
Mark Lecuona Mar 2012
A feeling
Is not about who is best
Art
Is not a contest
To insist on a victor
Is an ego that has broken
Showering hate upon the lives
Of hearts that are open*

What may or may not be poetry
Is instead the heart of our family
You commented rather pointedly
About your superior ability
And eloquent verbosity
Most likely derived from history
Of the friends of Neal Cassidy
And other written eccentricity
Yet you forgot your humanity
And instead introduced a monstrosity
An ego steeped in personal vanity
Insisting on being treated royally
Demanding your subjects bow immediately
As you crashed into the sea of tranquility
Planting your flag of superiority
And crushing our words spoken so plainly
But heartfully
Because the letters are unworthy
To one who is challenged emotionally
Unable to live peacefully
Amongst those who wish to learn gratefully
About a craft you have reserved selfishly
For yourself and those you deem to be equally
As adept as yourself in the vagary
Of references you declare to be wholly
Fresh and newly
Minted by your ability
To walk around the cliché so gracefully
While we repeatedly
Use words such as lovely
Or heavenly
Or tearfully
Or holy
So we beg you openly
To understand what is primary
In a place for the novice to publically
Air their emotions unapologetically
And speak candidly
And unconditionally
About how painfully
It is to live freely
In a place so worldly
Where men think judgmentally
******* the life from those who live meekly
And wish to exist thankfully
Amongst those who understand brotherly
Love and who affectionately
Praise those who tenderly
Open their hearts to humanity
Giving mercy
To those without the gifts you egotistically
Bludgeoned us with so artfully
But failing miserably
To impart insightfully
Your wisdom for those who willingly
Would receive daily
Your transcendently
And insightfully
Spoken songs of serenity
But instead you callously
Reminded us unfortunately
That mere man is weakly
Empowered to exist commonly
And instead arrogantly
Cuts the rose greedily
Leaving the thorns sadistically
With His incarnation, passion, death and resurrection,
Christ paid the ransom for the sins of humanity!
Our full acceptance of this sacrosanct Truth,
gives us the opportunity to be permanently set free…

from the impending separation, brought by Death.
The date of Christ’s next coming may not be known;
so today is still the acceptable time for Salvation,
to become sons and daughters… before His throne.

The earthly powers of Satan will be vanquished;
know that his future demise has already been foretold.
He arrogantly chose to reject his musical authority
and remain strolling upon the Kingdom’s streets of gold.

Now we’re to stand, take back and occupy the land;
for we’re to regain the authority that was given Adam.
We’re also to recognize and honor the sacrificial Lamb
Jesus Christ, the holy, begotten son of the Great I Am.

The true saint lives not for today, but for tomorrow,
purposing to usher in the Kingdom with singleness of mind.
As righteous keepers of humanity’s brothers, we need…
to steer everyone towards the sacred One called Divine.




Author Notes:

Loosely based on:
Luke 19:11-27; Eph 4:1-16; Rom 12:1–8; 1 Cor 12; 1 Pet 3:10-11;
Matt 5:13-16, 16:24-26; Gal 2:20, 6:14; 2 Cor 5:17-21

Learn more about me and my poetry at:
http://www.squidoo.com/book-isbn-1419650513/

By Joseph J. Breunig 3rd, © 2012, All rights reserved.

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