Love is
a good thing
when frosted coated with
passionate kisses.
Without them kisses,
it’s like kissing your parents
on the
lips;
meaningful but not pleasurable
Oct 10, 2020
Oct 10, 2020 at 12:44 PM UTC
wrestling with angels
slept three hours max, my brain is a stew le ragout,
pot-au-feu, a *** on fire, my dopamine is dope,
and seeing ladders, escalators going up and down,
angels all want to try wrestling with a protected poet
beating this poet a internet-fast way to fast fame!
one who dares to tell the Boss to f**k off, who takes
none of the deity’s lip, mock imitates His deep pomp and
circumstance voice, gets away with poetic saucy disregard,
cause poet worked his way into a corner of His affections
all just because the poet keeps telling Him to stop
this tortuous interference in human affairs, to lay off
the string pulling in lives for His amusement and
satisfying a reality TV craving, why can’t He change,
the channel to Lifetime and get tears vicariously, like
an ordinary minor deity, nah, not Him, he loves His
wrestling so, even though, everybody knows that
wrestling is so fake.
Sep 9, 2020
Sep 9, 2020 at 10:56 AM UTC
"همه جا" از حافظ / "همه جا" توسط لیپستاد
Hafiz Lipstadt
(1320 ~ 1389) (20th ~ 21st century)
—————— —————————
Running Sitting
Through the streets On the sidewalk curb
Screaming, Observing,
Throwing rocks through windows, Rocks falling all around,
Using my own head to ring Striking my head, ringing in
Great bells, Great waves of thought,
Pulling out my hair, My hair stands straight up,
Tearing off my clothes, My clothes’ fibers come alive,
Tying everything I own All possessions, the poems, yet
To a stick, Unwritten, less valuable than,
And setting in on The air that feeds the flames of
Fire. Their burning.
What else can Hafiz do tonight What else can Lipstadt do tonight
To celebrate the madness, But acknowledge the truthfulness,
The joy, The madness,
Of seeing God In~Exhaling God in each breath
Everywhere! Everywhere!
Aug 23, 2020
Aug 23, 2020 at 3:00 PM UTC
<>
*the supply of words is not inexhaustible
neither are the combinations thereof;
what is inextricably true, of these two linkages
that is not exhaustive, is my endless delight,
in finding the ones that I’ve yet to contemplate
till you brought them waving to my eyes,
so as far as I’m concerned, you originate
delight daily, and that is the spark you create
making every day, the eighth day of creation of the world.*
Sat Aug 22
2020
Aug 23, 2020
Aug 23, 2020 at 2:59 PM UTC
Subtle
~for Sally~
there is no escaping it.
to write of subtle,
one must be blunt,
forthright,
direct,
write with no subtlety.
there is no way, impossible, to capture the fine single threads required
to weave a tapestry of bold and delicate intertwined, of depth and
surface, of a droplet of water shining outstanding in a sea of harsh
blather.
there is bold, there is pale. they can coexist, perhaps even
heighten each other.
but subtle is a delicacy, a single thread, a standard rarely achieved.
which is why this poem makes no pretense at subtlety.
Aug 21~22
2020
Aug 22, 2020
Aug 22, 2020 at 7:48 AM UTC
no fame, no claim, no name
who shall we say is calling?
*I am a man of
no fame, no claim, no name,
an average sinner, absent glory*
a few seconds of rustling bustle.
did you ever write poetry?
*once. but everything of earthly substance,
destined to fade into the ignominy of forgotten
vaults, where time takes it time and erodes all
into dust.*
here, every word preserved. there is no time
in the dominion of creators, and you friend
are numbered in their midst, enshrined in many
hearts and eyes, ***and with every reading, each
reimagination, you are a reincarnated being***.
Jul 30, 2020
Jul 30, 2020 at 6:04 PM UTC
भारत के युवा कवियों के लिए (For the Young Poets of India)
<>
क्या कोई ऐसा प्रांत है जहाँ कविता पहली भाषा सिखाई जाती है?
शायद, सभी में कविता जीन का जन्म हुआ है?
मेरा इनबॉक्स बैंकों के प्रेम और आत्मनिरीक्षण की कविताओं को पछाड़ देता है!
तो यह है, इसलिए इसे जारी रखने के लिए, कि एक समय और जगह में एकीकृत,
हम पहले से ही एक ही भाषा बोलते हैं, जो वर्णमाला के लिए मायने रखती है,
वह भाषा प्रेम है, कविता सिर्फ वाहन, एक जीभ सभी धाराप्रवाह हैं!
Jul 30, 2020
Jul 30, 2020 at 6:03 PM UTC
هر دو بی فرزند هستیم (متفاوت)/we are both childless, differently
——————————————————————————
*let us not ask each other or god
the why, just how life worked out
and maybe by a choice unconfessed*
~
yet we both lie.
~
you possess thousands of offspring,
tend to their every need, breast feed
them water, special nutrients, stroking
their leaves, worry about their viruses,
you, dying just, a little, when, one rooted
looks up and says, “I am dying mother,
thank you for your love.”
~
my ***** produced two men,
each now, differentially,
lost, lost to me, and daily
privately, in word and wet,
weep my losses, for what
is a man who had children,
but goes down into his grave
gray haired, with none in
attendance to refill the soil
that his grave grayed body
requires to
hide his wasted,
childless
life.
Jul 25, 2020
Jul 25, 2020 at 8:52 AM UTC
the job of the artist
is to be
luminous and dangerous
*luminous to others
by being
dangerous to themselves
when the words are ripped from the chest,
atmosphere disbursed by the body’s projectile messes,
starburst fireworks,
luminous and dangerous,
luminating the shared night,
laminating your truths,
in poems disguised*
and so the job,
our work,
begins
Jul 13, 2020
Jul 13, 2020 at 12:12 PM UTC