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 May 2014 Harkaran
amrutha
Wanderer
 May 2014 Harkaran
amrutha
Eyes which hide a desperate soul
Wanting something which no human had hold
He bothers not but he does care
Accepting honesty which is just not fair
Like a magician out of thin air,
Art and himself, an undying bond they share.
His past was too eventful; I call it history
The present, tangled in deep deep mystery
The astronaut of his dreams, a fortunate trader
He chooses not the sound of 'grey', he uses 'silver'.
He is disappointment accompanied by gratitude
Everything beautiful is his soul's food
Blessed with the gift of true goodness,
An impartial admirer of undying passion and natural clue
He is the healer of his solitude,
He is the silence which married vacuum's mood.

Wherever his thoughts sail him to
Whichever land his heart chooses to move to
Whatever beauty his eyes seek to find
There,the wildest of the worlds his soul grew.
There is nothing which would trouble the wanderer
Yet, I see there is something too.
More than this world around him, he is stronger
The wanderer wails only because of the universe within,
The wanderer is used to wandering,
He walks blindly with pain inside, beauty beside,
Love on his mind, peace struggling with reality
He knows that he's the only person who can help him
Unlock the treasures of golden nature,
Shining shyly like dreamy drops of silver dew.
 May 2014 Harkaran
betterdays
o, come let us go....
to where the sidewalk ends
and verdant green grass beckons....

lets us dust the cement shimmer,
from our soul
and swim in water's clear,crystal, cleansing blue.

we will turn our back
to the city,
with it's loud
demanding voice
and listen for the whisper
of god's natural voice

as he speaks, in the wind, through the trees and
as he murmur's love, via the song of the bee's

we will forget,
the colour grey, and remember, the glory of
the rainbows spectrum.

we will shed,
our adult snakeskins
and become
the innocence of our
child within.

so come with me... i pray,
to where the sidewalk ends

hold my hand.. it will be grand.
as we step off.....
into the long forgotten land.
 May 2014 Harkaran
betterdays
3:39 in the a.m.
                   bats call,
cat yowls,
          dogs bark,
                                 partner,
                     snorts,
            snores,
                 ...  . farts......
grandma shuffles to toilet.... .... flushes.
             baby whimpers......
..... or was that me,
         a glass of warm milk to.......................helpmesleep
a dribble.... of scotch to help        .....me sleep
                         a mix of both to help me cope
              no just breath
partner,
             snorts
                      snores
                                 farts
...............must make......
Drs appt for him.
    
  sleep
that knits the
                  ravelled sleeve?
not tonight
           for me
                I do believe.

4.19 in the a.m.
                         To thelazyboy
                 I go to doze.....
perchance ....
                   40winks more
80winks before
          dayshift specialbeautifulcrazy               ....        .....   dayshift begins..  
      DOUBLE SHOT LATTE           .                   PLEASE.               .
...already it is a long day...
 May 2014 Harkaran
betterdays
my first job,
i think i was about seven
was to do my grandfathers washing,
every saturday  morning.
we had chores at home and got an allowance.
but this was a way to supplement it.

so every saturday,
i would ride across town, with my brothers and...

spray preen on stains,
scrub collars with solvol
measure out omo powders
then wait ten minutes
oftenat this time,
i would play with the cat, munster, who was my,
self-designated foreman.

then to start,
water and omo, into
the machine, an old twin tub
drop in the first load,
wait for it to process,
sitting on the laundry step, reading the latest book....
CS Lewis' Narnian series or Enid Blytons Famous Five.

you could only read,
at this point,
because after the first load had stopped washing,
it was into the spinner
and then it was,
a juggle of washing, spinning, filling water levels and getting the wet washing into the basket, without, dropping any.

now,  i was still,
to short to hang out
the washing, on the hills hoist,
but i would call for my assistant, Aunty Barb
and off we would go down to the line .... she would hang...
but i would hand
items and pegs up to her.

once all the washing was done, all that was left was,
one final rinse,
of the machine with
lemon pin-o-cleen,
a wipe with a dry cloth
and my labours were done.

time for a cup of tea,
a peice of gingerbread
and payment of  wages $3.50- $5.00
depending on the size
of the wash.
it was 1974...   that was a fortune then...it was also a way for my grandpa to help out my single mother...(but i did 'nt figure that out til much later) it gave her a couple of hours free on sat mornings subsudised my pocket money and taught me a good lesson as far as work ethics went..as i grew the jobs grew with me by the time i was in highschool i was his housekeeper for much better pay...
 May 2014 Harkaran
betterdays
falderal and balderdash
two little imps,
of some small renown.

falderal is a skinny,scrawny slip of a thing.
all intelligent darkness, rootlike in nature.
all grasping and clinging hands and feet.

balderdash, well he is
as his name implies,
round and shiny.
far less than exceedingly bright.
stolid, and cat curious,
smile quite endearing,
but a sense of humor
to be fearing.

imps they are,
as already stated,
of the cadre of earthbound. they are to each,
the yingle to the yangle,
the left to the right,
the peanut butter to the jelly, the day to the night.

apprentice and journeymen they be,
falderal quick to rush through the ranks. balderdash on record,
for longest ever time,
at the start of the race.
they are attatched to the place,
the "rooms" if you will.
of the quacksalver,
come life's strife coach, buttinskimentor.
(he thought to modernise and appeal to a larger demographic spread of people).
the shingle over his eaves, pronounces his name to be, hi. p.r. condriac esq.
if you please.

one day it might be,
when you are feeling,
confused and perhaps,
a tad frail
you skim your junk mail, then, you may find his brightly hued pamphlet,
just skitters to the pile top
and with the dust of conviction spread over thick, and a little innoccuos doubt, another mind trick.
you stupidly think i might try this chap out!
his work sounds appealing, if somewhat radical,
i hope i get lucky
and he gets to revealing,
the source of the foot odour, the smell in my shoes.
that makes me think of hell, and regurgitated *****.

unbeknown to your goodself you have begun, a set of trials, a hopless spell,
a winding serpentine course of sysiphian tasks,
(at a kind and generous 10percent off)
to rid yourself of,
this unholy smell,
which really is,
if i am a secret to tell,
the *** of falderal
and of course the sweat of balderdash's shiny brow,
and places less mentionable,
applied with delighted relish and made to stick with medical grade super glue.

and so after months of debraiding your life,
a light switches on
and an epiphany occurs,
you become wise to these minions of strife
and garner up the courage to yell "
it is a sham and he, but a shylock"

you then wend your way back to the good doctors rooms.
i can garantee you he will not be there,
to listen to your plight,
with due care he has long since,
packed up his snake show, revved up his vespa
and into the night's cacophony,
he has driven,
with journey man falderal and apprentice balderdash, in tow,
clinging on tight,
to the rear mudguard.

he now has other fools in his sight.

as to the problem of the pongy shoes,
to be rid of the smell.
the answer so simple,
you will hear in your mind the loud ringing of bells. garbage the lot shoes,
socks as well.
walk the world barefoot.
you will not be mocked,
but you may find that people mention the words,
slightly eccentric,
when you come to mind
Be it ever so elusive
Be it ever hard to gain
Be it ever one step further
Be it one more ounce of pain
Be it somewhat inconclusive
When I want to know for sure
It is still not so intrusive
When my dreams become a blur
For if I never stopped to wonder
If I never stopped to think
On each tough or tender morsel
On each sip of such I drink
How could I still undiscover
Such a dark, yet lovely truth
Sometimes we will grow much older
Reaching for the dreams of youth

I am ever so impatient
I can wait a few more years
I sustain myself with smiles
While I drown myself in tears
I look forward to tomorrow
As I’ve yet to seize the day
Every time I dare to reach out
Something always blocks my way
I’m so tired of being surrounded
I’m so tired of being alone
I’m so tired of being so tired
When I’m inspired to the bone
Such depth in shallow waters
How I soar with broken wings
Finding something in each nothing
As I tread the in-between
Every night and every day
In every way
I dream of you
And every word that I would say
If things should change
But they never do
Each time I think I see your face
Or hear your voice
In someone new
It leads to one more lonely night
In sleep or wake
To dream of you
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