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what poetry could not
the easiest access for rhyming,
e.g. the less i feel the more (a#)
i tend to harvest the ore (a#),
because it all feels domestic (b)
too modest too anachronistic (b)...
rhyme for me has become
deluded in terms of its importance
in poetry, it's un-important,
several technique references also,
but not so much, rhyming is the prime,
people everywhere are asking for abstraction,
they want to be able to read mathematics
by reading complex poetics
so they can craft a patent for ignoring
the verbs associated with mathematics
and entrench themselves in flanders fields
of nouns... i'm bilingual i have no talent
for crosswords, even the easiest ones,
but i can do a su doku... although not samurai
ones... if i state a vector and no one
travels along this route, it's no bother...
the last time i checked i felt inclined to
teach the south of Rodin's kiss, the north,
the west and the east in terms of changed narration
due to changed narration due to changed
perspective... all enclosures in cubic representation
where allowed, those in squared representations
of square on square like david's lyre of triangle
on triangle where the scientific approach
rather than lazy religious...
elsewhere two coordinations for the template
of abstracted three dimensional bodies
proved the one dimension that didn't exist
beyond the pinpoint "coordinate"...
otherwise known as the blind-spot.
poetry needs to evolve, it can't be stuck in the pit
of effort to keep with tradition, to keep with
technique... it has to forget technique
that might identify it as poetry,
the use of metaphor et al. does not necessarily
precipitate poetry, casual language usage
has become too stiff too predictable because
poetry has become so also...
imagine having other conversations,
philosophy has long quenched poetry,
crushed it, made it too democratic,
meaning anyone can write it,
only because plato's republic stated that
the rulers were not entertained by poets
in times when you couldn't record music
and stream it but had to be ready impromptu to
sing song... poetry, thanks to plato has become
too democratic, everyone's allowed a poem,
a demeaning signature of an X...
it has lost its republican status...
where is the: let poet ease my ear before i draft
the inauguration speech... so you see the tradition?
politicians want poets to speak with them,
they want one from the people to bless
the president's speech... but beyond that poetry
is a ***** art-form, and because of it,
it has become a wredna sztuka / wredna nauka,
which translates as: abhorring / abhorred art / science...
sztuka also translates as unit... hence the nuances
readied... like the reform of a 1984 law...
foresight accounted for, in terms of what
could be prevented... diluted understanding
does not necessarily involve an enlightened meaning,
in lawful terms it means confusing the populace,
confusing the strict guideline is a profit margin
in the courts of law...
the interpreter read the judge's speech
and didn't believe the necessary intricacy of ******,
he confused people with a gang of thirteen,
one carrying a knife, three carrying grit silver,
the rest not knowing... the three along with the one
accused, manslaughter the case resolve,
i understood the complexity of the high court judge's
wording, prime and auxiliary defendants,
prosecutors in tiers: victim, judge and jury...
the prosecutor tier missing because ineffective
and underpaid... prosecutors are effectively
the lawyers of the unread, uneducated...
currently there's an egyptian working the legal
system accused of the highest abomination
among the legal columns of un-excusable...
he committed a crime, and he's practising law...
one day his career will be over...
the man opposing never asked for reparations,
didn't ask for a jail cubic...
he asked for the beginning bias of the act not
perpetrated... ontologically speak, it's a question
of how man unto man should act, when given
the onomatopoeic simplicity of animals...
in england i will not receive justice,
i've been given a fake mental health history,
and thus dis-integrating from a society
i've known since the age of 8, i must someone
integrate my thought into my ethnic origin,
hence i need the european conglomerate of
many nations union...
because a psychiatrist in england
is actually a neurologist in poland
and the latter, dicta: if someone says you're
mentally ill, they're mentally ill themselves.
 Nov 2016 ajit patel
JRF
Life is Messy

I love you deeply
and greatly
but lately
I'm lost
and floundering
and fooling
myself
that I'm sane
and I try in vain
to straighten my path
and still my wrath,
but alas.
I
have
failed.
I have faltered, my love,
and
I do believe
I have completely
fallen
apart.
 Nov 2016 ajit patel
JRF
I Write
 Nov 2016 ajit patel
JRF
I write
from all the corners of my heart.
I write from every chamber,
from every ventricle that pumps the blood
that circulates throughout my soul.
I write
when I am succeeding as a human being
and I write
when I fail,
and sometimes,
I fail on a grand scale,
but at least I write.
I write.
...and don't we all, Poetry Friends?
Shall we sit, laugh and banter,
Discuss our every desire,
In an atmosphere on love and compassion,

You order bitter, and I go for smooth,
The waiter suggests the fries,
We accept the tater-tots,

We make work of our meal,
Beer washing down our mouths,
Forks stabbing at wandering hands,

Clearing the table, a brief contact is made,
Silence falls quickly,
An our eyes catch the waiters,

"One more round of drinks for two?"
A new edit of Drinks
As Love collides
Two lovers are left with their hearts torn
As Worlds begin to collide
Two lovers struggle for existence
As  Sound collides
Two lovers are left in silence
As  Light collides
Neither lover can see the other
As Waters collide
Two lovers are lead down different streams
As Thoughts collide
Two lovers  embrace each other
As Two Lovers collide
Their Halves are found
I would love to lay you down on a bed
caress your curves with the back of my hand,
spin dreams from my voice
making you hot all over
and kissing you to cool you down,
I will whisper into your ear
have me, take me, here I am,
make it freaky, make it raunchy, talk *****,
it's okay with me
We will be intertwined in a mess of heat,
our breathing in syncopation  
blood coursing through us
expanding our minds and body,
Let me hold you
every part of you
from head to toe
from heart to woe
Come to bed with me
I miss sleep
I want to swim in the stars

Not as an astonaught

not as in dreams

not in death

But as me

The heat of the stars lift me higher

and the only pain is that of

Loneliness

Then I'd reach back down to earth

Taking you in

my hands

then you'd jump

But don't forget to

Kick

For paddling is essential

to swimming

I'd teach you how to flip in the stars

we could even skinny dip

The possibilities require only that of faith

Faith that I'd catch you if you cramped

Be sure to wait ten minutes after eating

Then we'd dive

deep into a black hole

Holding our breaths

reaching the bottom of the stars

Would you like to play tea party?

Oh to swim among the stars

Our skin begins to

wrinkle

and our legs tire

So back down to earth we must go

But I'll be back again

With my hand out stretched

Waiting for you

to join me

in  swimming

in the stars
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