On almost the incendiary eve
  Of several near deaths,
When one at the great least of your best loved
  And always known must leave
Lions and fires of his flying breath,
  Of your immortal friends
Who'd raise the organs of the counted dust
  To shoot and sing your praise,
One who called deepest down shall hold his peace
  That cannot sink or cease
  Endlessly to his wound
In many married London's estranging grief.

On almost the incendiary eve
  When at your lips and keys,
Locking, unlocking, the murdered strangers weave,
  One who is most unknown,
Your polestar neighbour, sun of another street,
  Will dive up to his tears.
He'll bathe his raining blood in the male sea
  Who strode for your own dead
And wind his globe out of your water thread
  And load the throats of shells
  with every cry since light
Flashed first across his thunderclapping eyes.

On almost the incendiary eve
  Of deaths and entrances,
When near and strange wounded on London's waves
  Have sought your single grave,
One enemy, of many, who knows well
  Your heart is luminous
In the watched dark, quivering through locks and caves,
  Will pull the thunderbolts
To shut the sun, plunge, mount your darkened keys
  And sear just riders back,
  Until that one loved least
Looms the last Samson of your zodiac.

Foster the light nor veil the manshaped moon,
Nor weather winds that blow not down the bone,
But strip the twelve-winded marrow from his circle;
Master the night nor serve the snowman's brain
That shapes each bushy item of the air
Into a polestar pointed on an icicle.

Murmur of spring nor crush the cockerel's eggs,
Nor hammer back a season in the figs,
But graft these four-fruited ridings on your country;
Farmer in time of frost the burning leagues,
By red-eyed orchards sow the seeds of snow,
In your young years the vegetable century.

And father all nor fail the fly-lord's acre,
Nor sprout on owl-seed like a goblin-sucker,
But rail with your wizard's ribs the heart-shaped planet;
Of mortal voices to the ninnies' choir,
High lord esquire, speak up the singing cloud,
And pluck a mandrake music from the marrowroot.

Roll unmanly over this turning tuft,
O ring of seas, nor sorrow as I shift
From all my mortal lovers with a starboard smile;
Nor when my love lies in the cross-***** drift
Naked among the bow-and-arrow birds
Shall you turn cockwise on a tufted axle.

Who gave these seas their colour in a shape,
Shaped my clayfellow, and the heaven's ark
In time at flood filled with his coloured doubles;
O who is glory in the shapeless maps,
Now make the world of me as I have made
A merry manshape of your walking circle.

In the law of thermodynamics, there is this thing called entropy.
The Merriam-Webster dictionary summed it up as utter chaos
which is to say not mild nor in the middle but the omega
and you are my beginning.

One thing I hate more than my involuntary capability to breathe
is uncertainty.
See, I get lost in my thoughts so much
that one mistake branches out
until the whole thing explodes into one big misplaced dilemma.

I'd spend nights awake despite my screaming eyes
breaking down everything I've said,
everything you've said.
And by god, am I tired.

You used to lull me to sleep.

my polestar,
you are every disorder these eyes could muster
but I am willing to remove myself from every brink of defeat.
I'll stay in this isolated system if you'll hear the subtle touch of my fingers saying,

I'll wait for you
come back for me.

teachers come and go
but very so often one comes along
that you'll always remember
one who makes learning an adventure
the kind who can make you the best
someone you can relay on
who really cares ; what happens to you
not just as a student but has child
who could give out love in all directions
so that you don't faint when you're homesick
inspire you and shape the best version of you
teach you the words that heals wounds
today I'm here because of you
it's you who made me believe that I can alone make it sense
that is you, taught me to smile in hardships
thank you for your presence
god must be grateful for creating you
and I feel the luckiest to be your student
you have me and I need you as guide ;
no matter what I have you at loss of words
you're the polestar for the child who lost his way
and I know this polestar takes him in right direction
(ma'am forgive me if I have any grammatical mistakes ;
this child is not perfect yet

There is a Polestar in my head pointing
constantly to you: wonder woman, I can
smell the fragrances in your unfurled hair
fluttering in the winds drunk of the earth
wet with the promise of coming rains.

Though all coloured shadows, these be,
images that I dwell amongst, cut rough
they are, my fingers bleed at their edges:
I am in a kaleidoscope of a distant viewer,
the secret turner of the wheels of our fates.

I keep searching for you by the banks of
a lake draped in receding shroud of mists,
at the place where the river bends, teary
eyes moist in memories and where the
the whole world's upturned in her *****.

It must be the wood, that waded into
our home one spring and snatched you off
into her depths; Or that I am a conjurer -
I conjured you into my life desolate in
springs; I conjured you out in the rains.

All the eddies are time-warps that hold
smiles and tears, embalmed, hugging one
another like old loves, that you hop on
crossing spates and reaching for the caves
that line the edges of the horizon hills.

You need the low angle for the camera
to zoom in on my frame: I can scale
the skies, jump down cars, beat
the baddies and romance girls
by age by half: I'm the hero. I defy
everything. Age included.

Look up close, there are no wrinkles;
Muscles, better than gymbuffs';
Hair, not a strand grey, and
skin, as elastic as young. Yet
I've been around for a good quarter
of the lives of you the commonfolk .

There is no start or middle here:
I know no crises, I know no end.
Touch the screen, feel
the sparkle! I'm the polestar
of the ordinary life, I defy
everything. Life included.

In the secret chamber of my private
existence, I sometimes peep
out of the looking glass, but
the glimpse you saw of my eye
blown up, is all you can catch
of the tears that line their tips.

Am I in control
Of my thoughts and feelings?
Or are they controlling me?
Am I afraid to say
When my emotions stand in the way
Of what I want to be?

How do I change
So that I can be the same?
Be a polestar in the night
And always give you your direction

And the army enters
The empty city
With a wagon full of corpses
It was a war I could have won
I had the numbers
But the leadership was faulty

How can I change
So that I can be strong?
Be a polestar in the night
And show you the way home

Control my thoughts and feelings
Or the army suffers defeat

I want to be a light
That it dissapates
The darkness in my soul
I want nothing more

A sun will rise
A newborns eyes
Seeing the world
In only black and white

I want to be a light
But a light can be too bright
And you go blind
Believing its darkness

A sun will set
We looked to the west
Seeing the world
As only fading colors

I want to be a light
To show rainbows on your soul
You never saw before
And couldn't conceive

The stars at night
They tell every story
That's ever been
That will ever be

I want to be a light
A shimmer in your eyes
A glimmer of hope
A star you can wish on

A star will shine
The brightest in a constellation
A polestar
That you can follow home

I want to be a light
That it dissipates
The darkness in your soul
I want nothing more

We draw the sustenance of light ,
nourished via the prism of summer
rainbows and sienna dusk
Escorted along life's curt , underlit marquee-
with intermittent reflections of hope ,
renewal and rebirth fostered by the opening rays
of dawn
Treading the decorated bottom country
Connected with sundry , polestar orientation
Drawn into magnetic , scrupulous religiosity

Streaking past, a momentary cloud,
there goes hope, a severed kite;

Rain-grateful the stream: but the dunes,
still menacing, forlorn all around;

Hanging over our world, the inevitable:
shivering among a hundred stars;

Will we go blighted, Chenrezig, without
the Polestar through the darkest night?

Crimson-crowned, the snow-peak, now,
the end we shudder to think past;

she's the polestar when all others go dark
outshining even the brightest of northerly stars
shooting comet trails past our blue moon to mars

burpees forge burps
owls paint the ceiling
beavers **** your throat with
trinkets
and masked orange piths

what plagues you about death is not death itself
but the cracks in the glasses
and the insides of the duck soup
at The
Sea
View

here it comes

open and closed
mushrooming right out from the polestar of the lions’ lair
Krakatoa

a thousand potted minks let loose in a chicken den without a single
working
cash point

and from over the hill
all your ghosts connected

marching
louder
closer

banging
banging
banging

banging on their drums.

rebated, rebirthed rebooted, and rebuked
ill shod Unitarian atheist

Though avast percentage
of stonehenge temple piloted ghosts,
harking back millennia
constantly zip unseen thru aerospace,
they unwittingly espy
woolly sheep hush fleeced herd
profoundly religious peep pulls
plodding fast as their
cleft hoofs take them
along well worn path
of former crusaders.

Among acquiescent devout subjects
one self repentant
quest shunning skeptic poet
suffers interminable emotional flagellation
employing righteous indignation
against his own iniquitous misdeeds
sullying the sacrosanct marital covenant.

Unpardonable egregious transgressions
committed (well nigh
***** deeds done dirt cheap
a dozen orbitz ago)
think adulterous flagrante delicto
constituted consummating rutting
sabotaging high fidelity.

Passionate ******* incorporating
communicating non verbal
vernacular animal needs
spoken on behalf of laity
comprising unlearned, nevertheless
superstitious population
indulged verboten fruit appetite,
yet adroit oral (tongue in cheek)
spread courtesy word of mouth.

Most pious take as gospel
every word in religious tomes
their collective soul asylum polestar,
and doth decree important doctrines
with especial accord
equal insignificance applied toward
Judeo-Christian holidays
across the chessboard of life,
thus Easter ranks as no exception
to the golden rule,

where Santa Claus reached an a chord
follow auspicious signs
alit in the night sky
shaped like a drinking gourd
perhaps amassing plentiful harvests
upon hamlets strewn
across ******* populated Earth
asper cornucopia exhibited secret hoard
sharing plentiful Horn
(and Hard art lesson learned)

to stave off barreness, ignored
going forward seeding nascent
March Madness with help from Lord
and Taylor as midwife hoot
tended Ville Nova moored
by striking Wildcat fanatics,
who unbelievably
espied heavens cleft asunder
and golden rays poured
while collective spectators

loudly deafeningly screamed
while housed within the soundgarden
analogous to ferocious cats
who hissed and roared
witnessed history scored
earning players knighted
with Excalibur sword
thence entire team handed
Taj Mahal shaped award,

which aforementioned
*** hide lacks, cuz zit
happens tubby April Fool's joke,
thus above iterated verses somehow needs
just a little bit of relevance to yoke
thine admitted ambivalent
reaction to sports,
yea aye pay figurative ****
hen to Rabbinic, generic fanatic primal
tribal village people clan destine woke,

and swinging focus of this poem
back toward Religious perp ported berth
when (sans antiquity) trumpet signaled
thus, any superstitions blew away dearth
when distant shofar heard
in every home and hearth
anticipating arrival of the Easter Bunny,
who brings mirth
and hop poly distributes sweet treats,
which children as grown adults,

no matter necessity
for teeth to be removed
the sugary over indulgence wool worth
today thee American Dental Association
chastises candy manufacturers
bandying more weight
gaining deadly, debauched,
and decadent, trait
then adultery - verboten fruit to sate
hash-tagged (vamoose skat
dad dulled) reprobate.

rebated, rebelled, rebirthed, rebooted,
and rebuked courtesy
one ill shod Unitarian atheist,
who means NOT to affect
any sacrilegious fallout
nor offend devoutly religious
man, woman, or child,
when the most important
Christian holiday notated,
a veritable “movable feast”
occurs Sunday, March 31, 2024.

Though avast percentage
of stonehenge temple piloted ghosts,
harking back millennia
constantly zip unseen thru aerospace,
easily being mistaken for led zeppelin,
they unwittingly espy
woolly sheep hush fleeced herd
profoundly religious village peep pull
plodding fast as their
cleft hoofs take them
along well worn path
of former crusaders
analogous to Riders on the Storm.

Among acquiescent, concupiscent
fervescent, juvenescent
obmutescent (äbmyəˈtesᵊn(t)s),
and unreminiscent church going subjects
versus one self repentant
quest diagnostic shunning skeptic poet
suffers interminable emotional flagellation
employing righteous indignation
against his own iniquitous misdeeds
sullying the sacrosanct marital covenant.

Unpardonable egregious transgressions
committed (well nigh
***** deeds done dirt cheap
more'n a dozen orbitz ago)
think adulterous flagrante delicto
constituted consummating rutting
sabotaging high fidelity.

Passionate ******* incorporating
communicating non verbal
vernacular animal needs
spoken on behalf of laity
comprising unlearned, nevertheless
superstitious population
indulged verboten fruit appetite,
yet adroit oral (tongue in cheek)
spread courtesy word of mouth.

Unlike doubting thomas here
sitting on his rumpled stilted skin
most pious markedly take as gospel
Jesus Christ as Superstar
every word in religious tomes
their collective soul asylum polestar,
and doth decree important doctrines
with especial accord courtesy the cars
equal insignificance applied toward
Judeo-Christian holidays
across the chessboard of life,

thus Easter ranks as no exception
to the golden rule,
where Santa Claus
didst dodge Duesenberg
reached an accord
following auspicious signs
alit in the night sky
shaped like a drinking gourd
perhaps amassing plentiful harvests
upon hamlets strewn
across then ******* populated Earth

asper cornucopia exhibited secret hoard
sharing plentiful Horn
(and Hard art lesson learned)
to stave off barrenness, ignored
going forward seeding nascent
March Madness with
swift help from Lord
and Taylor as midwife hoot
tended Ville Nova moored
by striking Wildcat fanatics,
who unbelievably

espied heavens cleft asunder
and golden rays poured
while collective spectators
loudly deafeningly screamed
while housed within the soundgarden
analogous to ferocious stray cats,
who hissed and roared
witnessed history scored
earning players knighted
with Excalibur sword,
thence entire team handed

Taj Mahal shaped award,
which aforementioned
*** hide lacks moxie, cuz zit
happens tubby April Fool's joke,
thus above iterated
verses somehow needs
just a little bit of relevance to yoke
thine admitted ambivalent
reaction to sports,
yea aye pay figurative ****
hen to Rabbinic, quixotic

iconic, Hebraic, generic,
fanatic, ecstatic primal
tribal village people
wu clan destine woke,
and swinging focus of this poem
back toward Religious
perp ported berth,
when (sans antiquity)
donjon we now donning
gay apparel trumpet signaled
thus, any superstitions

blew away dearth
when distant shofar heard
in every home and hearth
anticipating rabbit arrival
of the Easter Bunny,
who brings eggs sited mirth
and hoi polloi doth hop poly
distribute sweet treats,
which blessed children
of the korn as grown adults,
no matter necessity

for teeth to be removed
the sugary over indulgence wool worth
today thee American Dental Association
chastises candy manufacturers
bandying more weight
gaining deadly, debauched,
and decadent, trait
then adultery - verboten fruit to sate
hash-tagged (vamoose skat
dad dulled) reprobate.