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Seven trees* she cried
Clutching each other
Seven trees all heading for the sky!


Past the distance I saw her smile
As the drizzle passed us by!

Not all them can grow as tall
Though each would love to go high
But the seven trees tied in one dream
Would one day soar to the sky!

One bore alluring fruits
Another stuck out thorns
One grew maze of entwined roots
Another was bitter born!

One grew without even one care
Yet shades men in all weather
One was dark bark another fair
But all happy to be just there!


I took her hand in mine
Her eyes turned after rain shy
Then drunk in the smell of earthen wine
We took one flight to the sky!
You needn’t so elaborately state
You don’t want to complicate.
10w paradox
She was standing at the temple gate
Beside where hung the big padlock
Sorry sir you are by an hour late
The temple will reopen at four o’clock.


I had gone at the abode of the goddess
To be blessed by touching her feet
Forgetting she too needed a recess
After standing hours for the devout's meet.

My watch told me an hour was not too soon
And time would run out without seeing more
But the banyan’s shade of the early summer noon
In its sunlight and shadows held something in store.

The girl at the gate gave an all knowing smile
An hour’s wait sir would not go in vain
The goddess’ face at the end of the weary mile
Would make you forget all your travel’s pain.


Her smiles broke through the dark tan of her skin
The barefoot girl watching over that godforsaken hamlet
And as from the river the southern wind blew in
I decided to wait with her at the temple gate.

Then we walked to the river following the wind’s smell
She showed me on the bank the zamindar’s broken palace
Took me to the cornfields boastful in their golden swell
Before the hour flew us back to the temple’s terrace.

When I asked her about her school and standard
In her eyes I found rising the rustic river’s mist

*Doing it all by himself is for my father too hard
In the chores of worship he needs me to assist.
 Feb 2014 Done
E. E. Cummings
Listen
 Feb 2014 Done
E. E. Cummings
listen
beloved
i dreamed
  it appeared that you thought to
  escape me and became a great
  lily atilt on
  insolent
  waters    but i was aware of
  fragrance and i came riding upon
  a horse of porphyry    into the
  waters i rode down the red
  horse shrieking    from splintering
  foam caught you clutched you upon my
  mouth
listen
beloved
  i dreamed    in my dream you had
  desire to thwart me and became
  a little bird and hid
  in a tree of tall marble
  from a great way i distinguished
  singing and i came
  riding upon a scarlet sunset
  trampling the night    easily
  from the shocked impossible
  tower i caught
  you strained you
  broke you upon my blood
listen
  beloved i dreamed
  i thought you would have deceived
  me and became a star in the kingdom
  of heaven
  through day and space i saw you close
  your eyes    and i came riding
  upon a thousand crimson years arched with agony
  i reined them in tottering before
  the throne and as
  they shied at the automaton moon from
  the transplendant hand of sombre god
  i picked you
as an apple is picked by the little peasants for their girls
 Feb 2014 Done
Seán Mac Falls
Words, utter, deconstruct,
Pure truth is now, tainted.
Always two ways of seeing,
Right is mighty and written,
The blinking stars, warning,
Over heads of manly stone,
Silent testimony unheeded.
Faith, the hearts perdition,
The exquisite supplication,
The tyrants dream so freely
Spun for turning heads tips
As baubles do when moon
Is full or the sun is searing.
Is the world really flat? Are
The angels already among
Us or do birds surely winter
On the moon?
There once were superstitious explanations for birds disappearing in winter: that they either hibernated, or turned into other species. A third common misconception, originating from a pamphlet published in 1703, was that birds actually spent the winter on the moon.
 Feb 2014 Done
Brycical
For years I've been trying to write
something that would cause the earth to shake--
maybe even slightly tip it off its axis.
Not because it possesses any eloquent grandeur
with words like "cataclysm" or "surreptitious"
nor due to any celeb-ritory status
that may befall my unkempt and ghostly pale person.

                      I just want people to think!

From the moment most of us
are pushed from our mother's dark, watery womb
it's like we're given a hardhat and a pick,
then told to find some gold in the mine
because if you want to keep working in the mine
you have to pay
and then as we try to explain that we're uneducated about mining
because we were just birthed we are told not to worry
because there are teachers who will educate us about the mine
and every so many days we're tested on what we learned about the mine
all the while being told to forget not about the gold in the mine
and sometimes we get a little tired or bored of looking for gold
so we're given a book to read about some guy named Mr. Brahmallah Siddhartahweh Christ
along with a few cigarettes, beer and lunch meat to relax
for a few minutes before it's time to get back to work to look for gold in the mine
to pay to look for gold in the mine
and lord help you if you can't pay to work in the mine because you need to work in the mine
to work in the mine.

                                                      Confused?­ That's the point...
Now, the metaphor above is a crude illustration
of what I'm talking about,
but I have confidence you understand what's gnawing at me,
AND what should be at you too.

                     Where is there time to think??

Even in scientific and philosophical occupations
there isn't much thinking these days.
Many take science as law
the same way extreme, right wingers from any religion
take their "religious doctrine" as law.
Our politics, technology and even reading is polluted
with derision and division into different schools of thought
from a Conservative Team Edward Apple supporting Griffendor Christian
to a Liberal Hufflepuff PC using Team Jacob Buddhist.
Now I understand why all these new agers
keep referencing The Matrix.

                           WHAT IS REAL!?
That must be a decent explanation as why people go insane;
suffocating on all the weighty labels
forcefully pinned to their soul.

And yet...
more people, like me,
are desperately clawing away at these labels,
attempting to find a little fresh air,
perhaps filled with the smell of paint,
graphite, charcoal, clay, **** and natural body pheromones
while sounds of music, chanting, cheers, sobbing, silence, giggling and *******
echo in the breathing room
as we feel the grass beneath our feet, wind matriculating through our hair, another warm and loving body embracing ours with cool water trickling down our backs...
People like me
wishing to be metaphorically, figuratively, theologically and psychologically digambara  
subconsciously evolving from sadhu to avadhuta
          preaching anekantavada
           while simultaneously revealing it all stems from ONE!

But...
many of us are caught in a dilemma best expressed by E.B. White:

[Arising] in the morning torn between a desire to improve the world and a desire to enjoy the world, [making] it hard to plan the day.

These days, to the masses working in the mine,
if you're trying to improve the world you're a kook or a traitor,
just ask the SnowMannings.
If you try enjoying the world you're labeled lazy.
We all just want to be       FREE!!

Of course, Bill Hicks once said,
If you think you're free, trying going somewhere without ******* money.  

And when you THINK about that,
you start to get confused, right?
Maybe your head starts to hurt, right?
Because when you THINK about that,
and all the supposed enlightened people
from Siddhārtha Gautama who resigned from his royal trappings
to Yeshua HaNotzri who renounced material possessions with a needle
while the passive warrior Mahatma Gandhi thought western civilization a good idea.

Why are most children discouraged from being artists, farmers and the next far out thinkers?
Because      there’s        no          money        in         ­ it!  
Again, we’re back in the mine looking for gold.
But what would happen if you stopped?
What would happen if you got in the mine cart and said “**** it,”
then went careening down the shaft,
whirling and twirling faster and faster enjoying the ride!

But now I’m positioned in another quandary;
                       SOLUTIONS!  

While people like myself may have a few ideas
I think they are impossible to share at the moment
Because the majority of the population is too lazy
and complacent to do anything.
First we need to awaken!
First we have to get mad like Howard Beale!
We have to collectively reject the current frequency
and do like Tim Leary where we “turn on, tune in and drop out.”

Ok,
Let’s take five,
maybe more.
And when we reunite
let’s hash out some solutions,
**** out what does and doesn’t work.
If you like this, please share.
Your heart is not at the right place
Where your heart is
Lies a source of disease
Said the doctor with a long face.

You say of late you’re losing energy
Cold, cough, sneeze is on the rise
As to the cause of this persisting allergy
I’m left with no surprise.

For good reasons is said
Man shapes his own destiny
Go forward and have it made
Set those poor ones free.

If I had my way
I would have pulled his hair
But just managed to say
This is so unfair.

What damage those poor things can do
Other than giving good company
And I don’t believe it to be true
They are the cause of my agony.

Just because they can’t protest
Winged but still left lame
The doctor finds it best
To shift on them the blame.

Behind specs his eyes shone
His lips quivered in glee
As if he had chanced upon
One great discovery.

If only you earnestly wish
The prospect you truly fathom
Can find yourself a cure for disease

In exchange of their freedom.
When I run on the road of potholes
Beat the signal to go to other side
I feel the worth of my tattered soles
Thank good luck for being on my side.

You needn’t shed a tear
You needn’t mind it dear
Though came the new year
Didn’t buy a new pair.

I tell you through my tears
I’m not a miser
But through all my years
Have grown wiser!


It has run all concrete length
Sun’s heat and soaking rain
But still is left with strength
To sprint on all terrain!

You needn’t tell me dear
It brings me lump of tear
That its death is overdue
It’s time to get a new!


I tell you a fact of truth
My holed mate looks uncouth
Looks wretched in broken sole
But it's a living faithful soul.
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