Pradip is newborn (impossible wisdom)

“a new day, a new chance for my soul... to heed
a small voice ... to give flowers, to plant new seeds.
to not trample on wildflowers and unwanted weeds...” Sally

“Sweet baby
with your head on my shoulder
I'm no more growing older...” Pradip

~

the unpredictability and randomness of the winds,
seed carriers, of small voices, yearning to be heard,
powerless in appearance only, for within are powers superior heroic,
           who can grow others       who can feed    
                             who can sustain multiple living creatures

each seed unique, a poem composed and complete,
authored by precedents, authorized by predecessors,
utilizing the cocoon of soil and sun,
rainwater from space and deep driven to
the clear milk of underground railroad rivers,
to give nurture to its revisional generational code

these new children of an old mix,
are quiet lifesavers giving proofs positive,
that those who will one day grow old,
with deep gnarled roots, are most capable
of finding ways of manufacturing fresh youth whim within,
to those who give babies homage, in attendance

this then the newborn miracle, the new seed,
wind borne, replants itself in old soil,
taking but more so giving,
injecting bits of vitality into its arterial ancestry,
how can this be?

I do not know the why or the how,
but am evidence of the therefore,
and the thereafter, of impossible wisdom



7:07am 4-5-19 a newborn poem for poetry passing grandparents

I am broken
I've finally snapped
What was holding me together
Is almost gone
Though I thought it may stick forever
I am broken
I feel the pain
My past thoughts have become vain
The way I feel, is considered
Inconsiderate
The way I act, is that of a broken man
This was not my plan
To be in agony
I don't want to deal with it angrily
I feel trapped by the gravity
In this hell ridden galaxy
I start to see the vanity
Of this reality
My anger and insanity
My depression and my humanity
It's all been revealed
I may never be healed
I am broken
My words are now outspoken.

Why do nice people end in life’s rat race, last?
A thrown out contents into the cold soul’s dump?
Hence, becoming a forgotten and recycled soul
In which those who cast such out, did not remember of the light In them, until the cost has been cast?
Why is a bright future so much of a Horder’s dream in which they can corrupt and or steal such soul’s energies, for their greed?
Take such a warning.
You , the hoarder shall drown in despair’s ocean ,once your guilt has never been needed.
Drown if you must, in such intoxications.
For your end will always be the cost of the lust for the brighter.
Their legends shall live , forever, as fighters.
For ,as the much stronger and brighter beings ,shall laugh at your new infatuation.
We learn, ever so quickly, those false actors of “the nice.”
As our cold and knowing states, of how you took our Conrad’s in the greedful , shall never get a listen. As our ears-closed, when they were living and bright, as our eyes glare shall freeze your fuel and sick soul’s to solid,freezing ice.

She said yes,
Such a shame
The ring is formed from soot.

Introduction
There they stood; keeping silent company.
Yet of His face, wept searing electricity.

To the lovers of life*
Here they stand, keeping silent company.
No utterance dealt; yet clear in both their minds
A single, brilliant truth:

He longs for her with a savage delight.
And it cries from every fibre, exalting!
It is in the bearing of his eye;
Rifling through her tender flesh
In search of what he knows, from voices ages old, is there:
That her heart will beat for no other as it beats for him right now;
That in this moment, their Souls are bared
To each other’s glares- naked, and blemished, and cowering-
Yet his eyes remain fixed and sure:

And for this, she loves him.

For they have seen each other for the First of Times,
Truly! And as with many the Ancient Laws unfurled,
They stand aware, in lack of ever being taught,
Aware with every atom, every straining tendon tight
That their time's so very short.

And so they drink… wordless
To each other, to their youth, and to their bodies
Shining like never before in the noonday air
Garbed in cloth that snaps and furls around their waists.

They imbibe with electric eyes,
Eyes that are new born to this world of light
And come out screaming, living, and sensitive
For lack of ever being touched.
They revel in their new-found joy;
Pouring from Her figure,
Of Her sleek, supple waist and the arch of her back,
Bristling with delight,
Of His strong hands and easy smile,
That spoke of laughter scattered
Across countless campfires of summers past.

Their light does burn intense as any fire,
And when their brimming anticipation
Overspills its crimson chalice
The silence shall SHATTER.
To find peace again in each other's arms.
Fumbling in sweet darkness-

Of heavy lids, of earthy flesh,
With lips embraced...

In ravenous finality.

I think.



Yes,



I'm sure this is it.



The final sign.



The last move.



I.

My Love,

I was sure You were the one.
You gave me such hope,
such contentment.
If You could understand,
the way I feel about You.
Well im not sure.
But now?
This is an all time low.
I have never felt this worthless.
What is the value of my life?
Nothing.
At least to You.
And what about me?
Who do I care for?
Where is my loved one?
Why does no one ask?
Oh right.
Sometimes I forget how alone
I actually am.
And sometimes I don't even think
You notice,
or care.
This isn't something You could
possibly hope to understand.
You've always had someone.
You've always been loved.
Even if it wasn't me.
After all this,
I truly believe I am to blame.
I set You on this path of
destruction,
this craving for something more,
starting with our own failed bond.

My Love,
I am unworthy of apologizing.
The damage that has been done...

But i'm sorry,
I'm sorry for ruining this.
I'm sorry for saying hi to You
I'm sorry for saying forever
I'm sorry for everything.


II.


Why can't You see you're all I desire?
Don't You want true love?
Don't You crave a companion,
who longs to spend
every waking moment with You?
I do not understand.
So I will continue this journey of
uncertainty.
This path through hell.
And I walk alone.
It is clear to me.
I was destined to be alone.

LEAVE HATRED OUTSIDE MY DOOR
WHEN YOU COME IN*

this Notice boarded on my door
seems to have done little to impress.

the ones that come in
still read from the hate book.

speak ill of others behind their back
curse those they don't agree with
spew vitriol against all not their own
criticize food habits and dresses
castigate the new generation
find fault with the old
generalize on the basis of race religion
trifle faith belief sentiment
envy for what they don't have
intensely dislike assumed disabilities
even a squint a stammer a mole a limp

more passionate in degrading than appreciating
systems, processes, relations, actions, attitudes.

people won't mend, behind them i think,

they're so ****** disgusting.