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 Apr 2017
Butch Decatoria
Were you but my familiar, charmed
A chain and cross for the Quietist
Oh Love, we will not suffer such

Were you a kept vigil, an owl in the barn?
Must keep the Peace, it don't take much
They may praise such New age heretics

Old words we feel familiar warmth,
Loving fewer Still we furious familists.
A poor attempt at a triolet...practice makes perfect.
A dog's life

On the dog the blazing sun pours
but closed are all the doors

hungry and thirsty and mad in heat
the asphalt burns his feet


Isn't there a kind heart
to see and feel his pain

to play God's part
as His will ordained?

Life without a roof

His bed is the pavement
roof the firmament

famished and sick
his pillow is a brick


people pass without a stare
if you're fine all else is fair

their sight is a shame
disreputes the city's fame

Where is God?

Full is His misery's cup
all muddled up
He has no clue

why nothing went fine
with his divine design
what to do!

Is all lost?*

Two gifts you still can feel
in your mind live their trace

to use them if you truly will
love and kindness*.
 Apr 2017
K Balachandran
I was quite oblivious, then
of the ways of this wicked world,
being a merry child of nature;
innocence embraced me tightly
as if I am it's one and only beloved.
It was my dad, man of infinite
wisdom yet carefree, who walked
in front,he once  turned around
as if he remembered this,and said
"Don't ever go astray,keep your
eyes focused on the light distant
even if I am not there to lead
if ever you find any difficulty,
don't you get confused, that  flame
remains unflinching,within
each moment,you feel the need "
I didn't ever go astray,keeping up
with his footsteps.I let out a secret,.
I remember,a sweet kiss for
sweet pain in my lips.

Well, he didn't have much time left
he knew his seeds transferred in this
pod would set sail to the very end
of the world,till it goes on gently
narrating it's tale.Bless my beloved dad
it's mostly him and mum I am,
filled with: wonder for the world,
compassion for even a purloiner,
scrounger,larcenist, owl or spider.
At one turn he casually said good bye
and vanished,collected his ashes white,
mixed it with my bitter tears,I immersed
it in the confluence of three seas,at Cape
with a heart gone empty.He has become
immortal, my meditative moments
would tell me,with such certainty,
Still his words ring loud and clear
in my inner ears.

On my  way, in carnivals,I encountered,
thieves garden manicured, where
robbers and plunderers celebrated
victory nights with their ticklish girls.
I spent two days in guilty pleasures
and moved forwards my destination.
near and dear I had so much ,was proud
about them; imbibed the wisdom that held
the light ,closer to my spirit from all.

                               I heard the wild cheering,
when I did things right as expected,
as I crossed the temperate deciduous forest,
the lion tailed macaque,stared at me and said
"There a little further you 'd see prowling tigers,
alone you are, be on your guard".Astonished
as I looked around, I saw none but me,alone!

Climbing the steep rock in the middle of
the herbal mountain,I find the sanctuary
of the ancient sage,which the Chinese traveler
Xuanzang1 sought fighting odds,walking all along.
here is the light,I 'd realize my truth in this abode.
Xuanzang--CE(602-664)was a Chinese Buddhist monk,scholar, traveler,translator,who traveled   to India
and spent time doing study and meditation at mount "Agastya koodam" (Pothikai)in Kerala, South India,believed to be  the  abode of Avalokiteswara.(compassionate and merciful Bodhisattva)
 Apr 2017
Gidgette
I attend the funeral of hope,
weekly
Watch the birth of despair
daily
I think God has gone deaf,
atleast to
my cries
People look at possessions as
success
They aren't
They're stones tied to souls
making sure we all drown with the
Jones'
we all so long to keep up with
Oh yes,
those Jones' are falling to the
Depths of "stuff"
far faster than we Smiths
Good Lord
All day, Everyday,
I see and hear the "upper class"
whine
About the stupidest things
Its appocalypse if the Jones' buy
a BMW
while the neighbor only owns a Cadilac
Utter DEATH
I see these things and hear these silly conversations daily
"Oh did you see how fat Pam's *** looked in that Vera dress at yesterday's luncheon?"
"Yes! All that money spent on lypo! Haha!"
Disgusting ****
like sulfuric acid poured into my ears
And the road on the way to this Country Club and Gated Community called
Deerfield
Is lined with falling down trailers and houses without glass in the Windows
Clothes hung on ancient strings because the wearers can't afford a dryer
Or the electicity to run one
Children filthy and barefoot playing with
hand-me-down toys
in hay field yards
Still cleaner and more pure
than the
Filthy Rich
I wavered in my original intent with this one. I just got So angry today at work. These rich people in their multi-million dollar homes behind a coded gated community are complaining about the "eye sore" homes of these poor mountain people. Rather than help them, or try to see from both sides of the gate, They'd rather the city take the land and tear down these peoples homes. They would rather human beings be ******* homeless, than have to drive by any imperfect thing on their way to their 12 and 13 bedroom, lake front, mansions!! Seriously! They are actually petitioning for this devilish act. I spit at them! Better educate these people and give them a chance to do better. Knowledge is wealth and power. And knowledge should be given freely. The public schools here are awful. The children share books And the local high school only has three computers in the inadequate library. I won't deny being lucky. I went to a private school, as will my Stella. But know this, I donate frequently, And when I taught the dance, I taught more than one girl for free. I could rant about this all night but I have Easter baskets to fill. I love you all. Happy Easter<3
 Apr 2017
ryn
We all look up to the same sun.
To the same moon we confide.
We all look at them the same...
Hoping for the light of day...
Wishing for peace at night.

Unfortunately...
It seems that they are not just.
For their light is selective.
It is not available to those
heavily shrouded in the dark,
drenched in tears.
It seemingly favour those
who'd shamelessly croon for their boon.
Miscreants who shirk
their responsibilities and fears.

I beg you...
Guardian of day and sentinel in twilight.
May your arms be kind and fastidious.
May your reach be deliberate,
purposeful and extensive.
Find those who cry but without voice.
Cradle those who've made decisions
without the luxury of choice.
Shed some love so they could see
past their laboured breaths in mud.
Raise them to their feet
so that they might
have a fighting chance to live.
 Apr 2017
Butch Decatoria
Take it from me youngster, figuratively
I literally have no possessions

But surely learn from your mistakes
More of less of those encounters

More experiences without the hate
Alive and happy thankful just to be

So youngster now take it from me,
My experiences stand ahead you...

Live life for the truth of you,
There is serenity in being happy

Real joy is honest a being
Who exudes the love of Life, a light

That is the truth of You know Who
Soul that is a River

Doubtless we began, now to see
The construct of brotherly peace,

A lovely existence without this drowning pearl
The suffocation of our miracle world

Take it from me, youngster
You only rob yourself of illumination

I've been stealing from my own me?
If nothing else no one will dispair

When no one cares to wake
Time will cease, when no one watches

Pay close attention to the joy,
The life you have pretended decoy

Live like you love to live your life,
Truly utterly free

Breathe each minute passing
With thankful joyful and sincerely

Returning the gift of chi
Most positively the peace we send out

Just be mindful youngsters,
We make our own hells mouth

Chose to be enlightened
Be youthful and truly speak freely

Alright youngster ? take it from me
I wish you everlasting

Peace.
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