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 Oct 2014
Amitav Radiance
Every day we walk towards the end
Of a phase this life has to offer
Trying to gather ourselves
As we are stretched toward all directions
So many things tugging our attention
Filled with hope, our minds
Weave so many dreams everyday
As if we are here to stay forever
But life has a different mirror
Which reflects the ultimate reality
Albeit, we do not pay heed to it
Creating our own reflection
Though, distorted it may be
We believe in it
We don’t want the transient moments to fade
Never realizing the path will end
Taking us towards a new journey
 Oct 2014
Amitav Radiance
Take a deep breath
And close your eyes
Images comes rushing
You thought may have faded
From the memory
Yet, they now come back
Where had they been?
Hiding, when the eyes were open
Now in silence
You start reliving those events
You were a part of
Marred with sadness or
Joyous moments you cherished
Take a long breath
You are overwhelmed
With the rush of images
So profound
Yet, you were not aware
With eyes open
But they had been locked away
And closing your eyes
You looked inward
Unlocking the secret vault
It’s quite a time
When the mind goes berserk
Creating a turmoil
In the usual life of yours
A small storm
Which rocked the boat
Images are profound
 Oct 2014
Amitav Radiance
As I sit here alone
Not an iota of thoughts
In my mind
Staring at the blankness
The darkness becomes deeper
As if I have walked into it
Thick black nothingness
Where only a dim light
Everything else has vanished
I me and myself
Confined in this area
Demarcated for the still mind
Not fear, but bewildered
What can darkness feel like
As it enters me
Fills every corner of my body
I am the darkness
Cannot distinguish the two
It feels good
Nothing to worry about
But getting acquainted with darkness
Face to face with myself
I can see clearly now
 Oct 2014
ryn
What lies beyond this wall?
What lays on the other side?
What's at the end should I take the fall?
Where's the destination punctuating this ride?

Will there be a bed of green as my cushion?
Will there be a ceiling of azure comforting my eyes?
Will fingers of the sun soothe my delusions?
Will the drops from the sky quell my cries?

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Will my back be received by hardened soil?
Will the angry earth be crusty and cracked?
Will my lungs taste the heated air of turmoil?
Will my posture still be bent by the weight I packed?

What lies for us beyond this wall?
What would happen when we pick a side?
Would we survive if fate controls this fall?
Will we be hand in hand or hands apart by the end of this ride?
 Oct 2014
Traveler
I am not real
I am only an illusion
Perhaps that's confusion

Imagine such a dilemma
All the Time believing
Yet a thought can be deceiving

Existence is subjective
This ink that you see
Isn't really me

So why be concerned
No need to discern  
Give no thought to agree...

This really isn't me.
Traveler Tim 4-19
 Oct 2014
r
you were laid up in guadalupita
with camelia la tajena from la junta
and her tonto from la plata-
hiho-yo

shootin' tequila with pancho villa
jefe of the bandidos mc locos
- tweakin and twerkin chicas and cholos
and vatos ridin' with the vagos -

they were singing -

"con cuerno de chivo y bazooka en la nuca
volando cabezas a quien se atraviesa
somos sanguinarios, locos bien ondeados
- nos gusta matar
"

you were kickin - breathing quickened
- bravo television tunnel visioned
to the tonto/pancho episode
en camera - exposed

pronto - camelia shot her tonto
dead - a perfect rose upon his head -
i like killin - she said

hiho-yo, tonto

we sang narcocorridos
all night long -

on the blue mesa.

r ~ 10/25/14

 *song excerpt from:
"Sanguinarios del M1” (Bloodthirsty Men of the M1)” (2010)
"Translation: "With “goat’s horn” (AK-47) and bazooka at our necks/Sending heads flying if anyone tries anything/We’re bloodthirsty, crazies deep in the scene/We enjoy killing..."
.\¥/\
   |      narcocorridos
  / \ bm  http://hellopoetry.com/collection/7717/blue-mesa-collection/
 Oct 2014
The Anonymous Joker
You need to reach out
- that's what I was told

I confided in a number of people

Sat across a lot of wise spectacles
Sympathetic coffees
Blank invites
Dispassionate loves

You need medication
- that's what I was told

I popped a number of pills

Over months,
White, long
Yellow, small
A number of nights
Crazy eyes,
Erratic behaviour
Strange moodswings

You need a change of scenery
- That's what I was told

Miles and miles of sand
A sea extending into the sky
My heart became the feather
That landed on waves
And sank
Far below
The understanding of humanity

Went to the hills
Stream flowing by
Which iced over at night
Bare apple orchards
Green and stone
Woke up at 4 AM
From where I stood,
I couldn't see the sunrise

My spirits
Shattered and fell
Along with some rocks
Off the cliff's sheer face
As I ended up
On my hands and knees


You need to meditate
- that's what I was told

Pure silence at 4 AM

That's what I woke up to
And I sat for an hour everyday
Trying to focus on
The "om" I was told about
With the last echo
I was left bereft of purpose
Vision and energy
I couldn't move on
With the day
 Oct 2014
r
mystic line between
blue and blue
stretching yonder -

- i wonder at the wonder -

a whispering sea
confides in me

- an ancient mystery -

the plaintive song
of the baleen.  

r - 10/23/14
\¥/\      ~
   |    ~
  / \
 Oct 2014
SG Holter
I sat (as I do when I don't need to stand)
By the river Vorma, a twenty minute forest walk
From my home farm.

Bukowski sat with me, speaking of how even
The best books in the world are
Merely sawdust.

I watched the sun via the water go from bright,
Innocent yellow to dark, sensual shades of
All sorts of blood,

Blushing with its whole self, then withdrawing
Beyond the rippled mirror image of its
Completely unjustified shame.

I lost my reading light, folded Charlie up and
Sat with my arms across my knees, watching
Fish jump on unsuspecting dinner insects,

Tossed the book in the water, and sighed.
The whole scene was just too perfect
Not to.
 Oct 2014
Ocho the Owl
I wonder how the world will end
I wonder if i will survive this winter
I wonder what its like to have a family
I wonder if i will ever find the stability and security that
I so desperately crave

I wonder what its like to die
I wonder who will be there to greet me on the other side
I wonder why my life has been such a roller coaster of *******
I wonder what its like to have something to keep fighting for

i went towards the light in search of meaning
 Oct 2014
Nat Lipstadt
dreams in colors that don't exist,
and 'mares re dear sir, deadlines missed,
wrestle~arrest poet,
instant awake
in the wee time,
pouring liquidity,
fluids and words,
puddling, stinking,
coming,
from the
always dangerous,
always interesting temple inner inside,
sanctimonious no more sanctum

this particular sleep,
shortened, irretrievable,
bookmarked "closed,"
chapters,
hours too soon,
this rest business,
arrested
filed in an ugly
grey metal file cabinet,
in an unfinished manila prison
with your other unimportant poems

the dark room universe
populated by
hints, shadows, voices,
waiting, welcoming,
mirrors on the walls
unified in one voice
deep, obtuse,
demanding recognition
"hither hither come"

forced march
to a visitation,
to the the parition,
of your reflection,
clearest ever seen,
in the black pitch,
uncovered by guise, feathers
the clothes of normative pretenses,
the man-made borderlines of
preservation falsehoods

seen your own semblance,
parts rearranged,
uncanny,
the mirrors are screaming:
shameful lovely,
this, our artistry,
your apparition,
now accurate,
reflecting your under-
lying
condition,
at last,
an accurate portrayal,
of your inaccuracies

do you find yourself attractive?
this new balance,
the unregulated pieces
of you
before your dissembling,
discerning,
dissecting eyes?

feeling the valence,
an introduction,
a physical magnetism
any attraction
any resemblance
to the semblance
that writes
this s.o.s.?

answer us thus,
do you up
and like yourself
unvarnished,
grunge, swag,
truth  trammeled,
don't you want to kiss yourself
goodbye,
or better yet,
fare thee hell?

go ahead,
ask yourself now,
that one question
that prevents conception,
from your inception,
what is it that
makes you exceptional?

don't you realize,
everything about you
ends in a question mark?

how dare you write poetry?
you are the false poet,
you live on the division
tween artifice and self-deception,
this, your only precept,
and now that you are
clarified,
answer this,
knowing you know
nothing
but artifice,

**how dare you write poetry?
valence - the capacity of one person or thing to react with or affect another in some special way, as by attraction or the facilitation of a function or activity.

semblance - an assumed or unreal appearance; show; the slightest appearance or trace; likeness, image, or copy; a spectral appearance; apparition.

10-22-14
 Oct 2014
ryann
I find you in the strangest of places
in empty streets beneath the trees
in crowded rooms full of music and strangers
and sometimes I even find your eyes catch mine or your voice say my name
I find you when you’re not there at all
in the lines of songs and the pages of books
in the caress of my pillow and the formation of my smile
But the strangest place I find you, strangest of all
is on my mind
constantly and irrevocably
 Oct 2014
RAJ NANDY
BULL   FIGHTING
(WITH A CLASSICAL TOUCH)
                  * By Raj Nandy*
(I)
The Minoan Civilization of ancient Greece,
Was well centered in the Aegean island of Crete;
And around 1600 BC this civilization had peaked!
Seeing their frescoes, and paintings on potteries
and vase,
Scholars concluded that ‘bull-jumping’ was
perfected as a gallant art!
Those jumpers grabbed the bull’s horns, -
And receiving momentum from its violent
head-****,
Vaulted over its back in a somersault,
To land on both feet to break their fall!
I was spell bound by Minoans courage and agility,
Their acrobatic feats performed with such
dexterity!
Those bulls were not killed and no blood was shed,
Some acrobats might have been injured instead!
What a shame for our bull fighters of date!

(II)
Today bull fighting has become a popular sport,
Where the bull gets slaughtered amidst loud applaud!
I recall those Roman amphitheaters that remained
jam-packed,
When the Gladiators performed their fatal acts!
But even those Gladiators had a chance to survive,
Our cornered bull has no place to hide!
Friends, to see blood is an age old thrill,
But none would like to see their own blood spilled!

(III)
Our Matador today is like a popular Rock Star,
While the bull becomes a martyr in the pit by far!
The bull’s mighty horns are sharp and strong,
Can lift up a man like a rag doll!
But when the Picador lances the bull’s ****,
The bull never gets a fair deal and jumps!
Next the Matador waves his ‘muleta’- a red cape,
The bull makes a final charge but cannot escape!
I wonder if the bull sees red!?
The Matador then amidst much pomp and applaud,
Spikes the neck severing the bull’s spinal cord!
He is greeted by flowers and cheers of ‘Ole’! ‘Ole’!
Let us learn from those Ancient Minoans, -
That's all I have got to say!
                           - by Raj Nandy
When reading about Ancient Minoan Civilization, I read about this ceremonial sport of 'Bull jumping', which is seen painted on their vase too! So I compared it with our tragic Bull killing spree in the ring!
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