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Life isn't a popularity contest,
when you set your eyes on the rising sun,
see him smile; at sundown
same spirit should prevail.
Trying to wrest out a smile is a joke.
be aware, every smile you invite is yours
.
once upon a time
there happened to be
a desert oasis with a population of three-
Mr A, Mr B and Mr C
no one really knows why
but they were all enemies
and then one day Mr A and Mr B
decided-quite separately
that Mr C should die -
he shouldn’t be allowed to stay alive
and so they executed their plans dastardly
Mr A poisoned C’s water with evil glee
knowing that when C drank eagerly
he would drop dead quite suddenly
but unknown to him Mr B
poked little holes in C’s canteen
knowing that without water to drink
C would soon be on life’s brink
so all the poison dripped away
with all the water , one would say
that with the double treachery
Mr C would be a dead man anyday
and so it did happen
that with no water in his canteen
and none to refill
Mr C did drop dead of thirst
But that did beg the question-
who did him in?
A and B play the blame game
A says C never drank  any of the poison
So how is he to blame?
but as B points out that his puncturing the canteen is irrelevant
for C would have drunk the water
and still met the same end
so it really is a contest of means versus the end
the end is the same and the question remains-
whodunnit?

-Vijayalakshmi Harish
  05.10.2012

Copyright © Vijayalakshmi Harish
My attempt at poetically rendering the Smullyan's Paradox, which goes thus:

"At a desert oasis, A and B decide independently to ****** C. A poisons C’s canteen, and later B punches a hole in it. C dies of thirst. Who killed him?
A argues that C never drank the poison. B claims that he only deprived C of poisoned water. They're both right, but still C is dead. Who's guilty?"
A
cloud,
         urgently
                       descends,
                                      s  l  o  w  l  y
­                                                           *d    i    s    s    o    l    v    e    s.
Old Cowboys, forts and shootouts
Black for bad and White for good
With a spinning canvas background
And cactus cutouts made of wood
The desert sits behind them
Fifty yards away at most
The heroes don't ride horses
They sip drinks and sit and boast
About their celluloid adventures
singing songs all dressed in white
While behind them in the background
The stunt men do it right
A canvas background rotates
Through valleys, hills and streams
While the hero rides his deck chair
And the director yells and screams
Central casting fills the tribes out
With Italians, and made up stock
While our hero stops an avalanche
Of fake paper covered rocks
Cardboard Cut out Cactus
And heroes smiling in the sun
Most have never seen a cowpoke
Let alone shot off a gun
But, it's magic when it's finished
the dusters up there on the screen
All the fakery and snake oil
Are all hidden, never seen
The white hats beat the black hats
The hero sings and gets the girl
And the background on the spindle
Is still spinning, watch it whirl
A celluloid adventure
Cowboys no where close to what they were
But..watch the next show for a nickel
And don't forget your spurs!!!
we know
that falling leaves
speak of death
in a season..
then we wonder
are we falling
as  the leaves..
falling also with
autumn beauty..?

we see veins
in each leaf
circulation channels..
nourishment
no more flowing from
a nurturing tree..
a branch from its
root now cast away..
and we wonder
where is our
root as our
nourishment fades..?

similarities abound
we and the leaves..
fearful we are
with our hidden root..
yet we wonder
have we found
vision and courage..
beholding anew
creation's falling beauty
light's filtered colors...?
See leaf image at blog....
 Oct 2012 Eileen Prunster
K Mae
Never had thought of myself in this way.
It's just that I don't want to sleep !
Wandering thoughts yield directions to roam.
Darkness and silence entice me to deep
explorations such as I never would fathom
in daylight and company I keep.
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