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Mean while the heinous and despiteful act
Of Satan, done in Paradise; and how
He, in the serpent, had perverted Eve,
Her husband she, to taste the fatal fruit,
Was known in Heaven; for what can ’scape the eye
Of God all-seeing, or deceive his heart
Omniscient? who, in all things wise and just,
Hindered not Satan to attempt the mind
Of Man, with strength entire and free will armed,
Complete to have discovered and repulsed
Whatever wiles of foe or seeming friend.
For still they knew, and ought to have still remembered,
The high injunction, not to taste that fruit,
Whoever tempted; which they not obeying,
(Incurred what could they less?) the penalty;
And, manifold in sin, deserved to fall.
Up into Heaven from Paradise in haste
The angelick guards ascended, mute, and sad,
For Man; for of his state by this they knew,
Much wondering how the subtle Fiend had stolen
Entrance unseen.  Soon as the unwelcome news
From Earth arrived at Heaven-gate, displeased
All were who heard; dim sadness did not spare
That time celestial visages, yet, mixed
With pity, violated not their bliss.
About the new-arrived, in multitudes
The ethereal people ran, to hear and know
How all befel:  They towards the throne supreme,
Accountable, made haste, to make appear,
With righteous plea, their utmost vigilance
And easily approved; when the Most High
Eternal Father, from his secret cloud,
Amidst in thunder uttered thus his voice.
Assembled Angels, and ye Powers returned
From unsuccessful charge; be not dismayed,
Nor troubled at these tidings from the earth,
Which your sincerest care could not prevent;
Foretold so lately what would come to pass,
When first this tempter crossed the gulf from Hell.
I told ye then he should prevail, and speed
On his bad errand; Man should be seduced,
And flattered out of all, believing lies
Against his Maker; no decree of mine
Concurring to necessitate his fall,
Or touch with lightest moment of impulse
His free will, to her own inclining left
In even scale.  But fallen he is; and now
What rests, but that the mortal sentence pass
On his transgression,—death denounced that day?
Which he presumes already vain and void,
Because not yet inflicted, as he feared,
By some immediate stroke; but soon shall find
Forbearance no acquittance, ere day end.
Justice shall not return as bounty scorned.
But whom send I to judge them? whom but thee,
Vicegerent Son?  To thee I have transferred
All judgement, whether in Heaven, or Earth, or Hell.
Easy it may be seen that I intend
Mercy colleague with justice, sending thee
Man’s friend, his Mediator, his designed
Both ransom and Redeemer voluntary,
And destined Man himself to judge Man fallen.
So spake the Father; and, unfolding bright
Toward the right hand his glory, on the Son
Blazed forth unclouded Deity: He full
Resplendent all his Father manifest
Expressed, and thus divinely answered mild.
Father Eternal, thine is to decree;
Mine, both in Heaven and Earth, to do thy will
Supreme; that thou in me, thy Son beloved,
Mayest ever rest well pleased.  I go to judge
On earth these thy transgressours; but thou knowest,
Whoever judged, the worst on me must light,
When time shall be; for so I undertook
Before thee; and, not repenting, this obtain
Of right, that I may mitigate their doom
On me derived; yet I shall temper so
Justice with mercy, as may illustrate most
Them fully satisfied, and thee appease.
Attendance none shall need, nor train, where none
Are to behold the judgement, but the judged,
Those two; the third best absent is condemned,
Convict by flight, and rebel to all law:
Conviction to the serpent none belongs.
Thus saying, from his radiant seat he rose
Of high collateral glory: Him Thrones, and Powers,
Princedoms, and Dominations ministrant,
Accompanied to Heaven-gate; from whence
Eden, and all the coast, in prospect lay.
Down he descended straight; the speed of Gods
Time counts not, though with swiftest minutes winged.
Now was the sun in western cadence low
From noon, and gentle airs, due at their hour,
To fan the earth now waked, and usher in
The evening cool; when he, from wrath more cool,
Came the mild Judge, and Intercessour both,
To sentence Man:  The voice of God they heard
Now walking in the garden, by soft winds
Brought to their ears, while day declined; they heard,
And from his presence hid themselves among
The thickest trees, both man and wife; till God,
Approaching, thus to Adam called aloud.
Where art thou, Adam, wont with joy to meet
My coming seen far off?  I miss thee here,
Not pleased, thus entertained with solitude,
Where obvious duty ere while appeared unsought:
Or come I less conspicuous, or what change
Absents thee, or what chance detains?—Come forth!
He came; and with him Eve, more loth, though first
To offend; discountenanced both, and discomposed;
Love was not in their looks, either to God,
Or to each other; but apparent guilt,
And shame, and perturbation, and despair,
Anger, and obstinacy, and hate, and guile.
Whence Adam, faltering long, thus answered brief.
I heard thee in the garden, and of thy voice
Afraid, being naked, hid myself.  To whom
The gracious Judge without revile replied.
My voice thou oft hast heard, and hast not feared,
But still rejoiced; how is it now become
So dreadful to thee?  That thou art naked, who
Hath told thee?  Hast thou eaten of the tree,
Whereof I gave thee charge thou shouldst not eat?
To whom thus Adam sore beset replied.
O Heaven! in evil strait this day I stand
Before my Judge; either to undergo
Myself the total crime, or to accuse
My other self, the partner of my life;
Whose failing, while her faith to me remains,
I should conceal, and not expose to blame
By my complaint: but strict necessity
Subdues me, and calamitous constraint;
Lest on my head both sin and punishment,
However insupportable, be all
Devolved; though should I hold my peace, yet thou
Wouldst easily detect what I conceal.—
This Woman, whom thou madest to be my help,
And gavest me as thy perfect gift, so good,
So fit, so acceptable, so divine,
That from her hand I could suspect no ill,
And what she did, whatever in itself,
Her doing seemed to justify the deed;
She gave me of the tree, and I did eat.
To whom the Sovran Presence thus replied.
Was she thy God, that her thou didst obey
Before his voice? or was she made thy guide,
Superiour, or but equal, that to her
Thou didst resign thy manhood, and the place
Wherein God set thee above her made of thee,
And for thee, whose perfection far excelled
Hers in all real dignity?  Adorned
She was indeed, and lovely, to attract
Thy love, not thy subjection; and her gifts
Were such, as under government well seemed;
Unseemly to bear rule; which was thy part
And person, hadst thou known thyself aright.
So having said, he thus to Eve in few.
Say, Woman, what is this which thou hast done?
To whom sad Eve, with shame nigh overwhelmed,
Confessing soon, yet not before her Judge
Bold or loquacious, thus abashed replied.
The Serpent me beguiled, and I did eat.
Which when the Lord God heard, without delay
To judgement he proceeded on the accused
Serpent, though brute; unable to transfer
The guilt on him, who made him instrument
Of mischief, and polluted from the end
Of his creation; justly then accursed,
As vitiated in nature:  More to know
Concerned not Man, (since he no further knew)
Nor altered his offence; yet God at last
To Satan first in sin his doom applied,
Though in mysterious terms, judged as then best:
And on the Serpent thus his curse let fall.
Because thou hast done this, thou art accursed
Above all cattle, each beast of the field;
Upon thy belly groveling thou shalt go,
And dust shalt eat all the days of thy life.
Between thee and the woman I will put
Enmity, and between thine and her seed;
Her seed shall bruise thy head, thou bruise his heel.
So spake this oracle, then verified
When Jesus, Son of Mary, second Eve,
Saw Satan fall, like lightning, down from Heaven,
Prince of the air; then, rising from his grave
Spoiled Principalities and Powers, triumphed
In open show; and, with ascension bright,
Captivity led captive through the air,
The realm itself of Satan, long usurped;
Whom he shall tread at last under our feet;
Even he, who now foretold his fatal bruise;
And to the Woman thus his sentence turned.
Thy sorrow I will greatly multiply
By thy conception; children thou shalt bring
In sorrow forth; and to thy husband’s will
Thine shall submit; he over thee shall rule.
On Adam last thus judgement he pronounced.
Because thou hast hearkened to the voice of thy wife,
And eaten of the tree, concerning which
I charged thee, saying, Thou shalt not eat thereof:
Cursed is the ground for thy sake; thou in sorrow
Shalt eat thereof, all the days of thy life;
Thorns also and thistles it shall bring thee forth
Unbid; and thou shalt eat the herb of the field;
In the sweat of thy face shalt thou eat bread,
Till thou return unto the ground; for thou
Out of the ground wast taken, know thy birth,
For dust thou art, and shalt to dust return.
So judged he Man, both Judge and Saviour sent;
And the instant stroke of death, denounced that day,
Removed far off; then, pitying how they stood
Before him naked to the air, that now
Must suffer change, disdained not to begin
Thenceforth the form of servant to assume;
As when he washed his servants feet; so now,
As father of his family, he clad
Their nakedness with skins of beasts, or slain,
Or as the snake with youthful coat repaid;
And thought not much to clothe his enemies;
Nor he their outward only with the skins
Of beasts, but inward nakedness, much more.
Opprobrious, with his robe of righteousness,
Arraying, covered from his Father’s sight.
To him with swift ascent he up returned,
Into his blissful ***** reassumed
In glory, as of old; to him appeased
All, though all-knowing, what had passed with Man
Recounted, mixing intercession sweet.
Mean while, ere thus was sinned and judged on Earth,
Within the gates of Hell sat Sin and Death,
In counterview within the gates, that now
Stood open wide, belching outrageous flame
Far into Chaos, since the Fiend passed through,
Sin opening; who thus now to Death began.
O Son, why sit we here each other viewing
Idly, while Satan, our great author, thrives
In other worlds, and happier seat provides
For us, his offspring dear?  It cannot be
But that success attends him; if mishap,
Ere this he had returned, with fury driven
By his avengers; since no place like this
Can fit his punishment, or their revenge.
Methinks I feel new strength within me rise,
Wings growing, and dominion given me large
Beyond this deep; whatever draws me on,
Or sympathy, or some connatural force,
Powerful at greatest distance to unite,
With secret amity, things of like kind,
By secretest conveyance.  Thou, my shade
Inseparable, must with me along;
For Death from Sin no power can separate.
But, lest the difficulty of passing back
Stay his return perhaps over this gulf
Impassable, impervious; let us try
Adventurous work, yet to thy power and mine
Not unagreeable, to found a path
Over this main from Hell to that new world,
Where Satan now prevails; a monument
Of merit high to all the infernal host,
Easing their passage hence, for *******,
Or transmigration, as their lot shall lead.
Nor can I miss the way, so strongly drawn
By this new-felt attraction and instinct.
Whom thus the meager Shadow answered soon.
Go, whither Fate, and inclination strong,
Leads thee; I shall not lag behind, nor err
The way, thou leading; such a scent I draw
Of carnage, prey innumerable, and taste
The savour of death from all things there that live:
Nor shall I to the work thou enterprisest
Be wanting, but afford thee equal aid.
So saying, with delight he snuffed the smell
Of mortal change on earth.  As when a flock
Of ravenous fowl, though many a league remote,
Against the day of battle, to a field,
Where armies lie encamped, come flying, lured
With scent of living carcasses designed
For death, the following day, in ****** fight:
So scented the grim Feature, and upturned
His nostril wide into the murky air;
Sagacious of his quarry from so far.
Then both from out Hell-gates, into the waste
Wide anarchy of Chaos, damp and dark,
Flew diverse; and with power (their power was great)
Hovering upon the waters, what they met
Solid or slimy, as in raging sea
Tost up and down, together crouded drove,
From each side shoaling towards the mouth of Hell;
As when two polar winds, blowing adverse
Upon the Cronian sea, together drive
Mountains of ice, that stop the imagined way
Beyond Petsora eastward, to the rich
Cathaian coast.  The aggregated soil
Death with his mace petrifick, cold and dry,
As with a trident, smote; and fixed as firm
As Delos, floating once; the rest his look
Bound with Gorgonian rigour not to move;
And with Asphaltick slime, broad as the gate,
Deep to the roots of Hell the gathered beach
They fastened, and the mole immense wrought on
Over the foaming deep high-arched, a bridge
Of length prodigious, joining to the wall
Immoveable of this now fenceless world,
Forfeit to Death; from hence a passage broad,
Smooth, easy, inoffensive, down to Hell.
So, if great things to small may be compared,
Xerxes, the liberty of Greece to yoke,
From Susa, his Memnonian palace high,
Came to the sea: and, over Hellespont
Bridging his way, Europe with Asia joined,
And scourged with many a stroke the indignant waves.
Now had they brought the work by wonderous art
Pontifical, a ridge of pendant rock,
Over the vexed abyss, following the track
Of Satan to the self-same place where he
First lighted from his wing, and landed safe
From out of Chaos, to the outside bare
Of this round world:  With pins of adamant
And chains they made all fast, too fast they made
And durable!  And now in little space
The confines met of empyrean Heaven,
And of this World; and, on the left hand, Hell
With long reach interposed; three several ways
In sight, to each of these three places led.
And now their way to Earth they had descried,
To Paradise first tending; when, behold!
Satan, in likeness of an Angel bright,
Betwixt the Centaur and the Scorpion steering
His zenith, while the sun in Aries rose:
Disguised he came; but those his children dear
Their parent soon discerned, though in disguise.
He, after Eve seduced, unminded slunk
Into the wood fast by; and, changing shape,
To observe the sequel, saw his guileful act
By Eve, though all unweeting, seconded
Upon her husband; saw their shame that sought
Vain covertures; but when he saw descend
The Son of God to judge them, terrified
He fled; not hoping to escape, but shun
The present; fearing, guilty, what his wrath
Might suddenly inflict; that past, returned
By night, and listening where the hapless pair
Sat in their sad discourse, and various plaint,
Thence gathered his own doom; which understood
Not instant, but of future time, with joy
And tidings fraught, to Hell he now returned;
And at the brink of Chaos, near the foot
Of this new wonderous pontifice, unhoped
Met, who to meet him came, his offspring dear.
Great joy was at their meeting, and at sight
Of that stupendious bridge his joy encreased.
Long he admiring stood, till Sin, his fair
Enchanting daughter, thus the silence broke.
O Parent, these are thy magnifick deeds,
Thy trophies! which thou viewest as not thine own;
Thou art their author, and prime architect:
For I no sooner in my heart divined,
My heart, which by a secret harmony
Still moves with thine, joined in connexion sweet,
That thou on earth hadst prospered, which thy looks
Now also evidence, but straight I felt,
Though distant from thee worlds between, yet felt,
That I must after thee, with this thy son;
Such fatal consequence unites us three!
Hell could no longer hold us in our bounds,
Nor this unvoyageable gulf obscure
Detain from following thy illustrious track.
Thou hast achieved our liberty, confined
Withi
ryn  Nov 2016
Blush
ryn Nov 2016
The light touches
of the wind,
caress the blush
in reddened cheeks.

Gentle fingers abscond
with the moisture
in hapless tears.

Teasing playfully,
the obstinacy
of wayward strands.

Inciting a smile
from a heavy heart,
lifting off the anvil
that carry all fears.
ryn  Mar 2016
Forgiveness
ryn Mar 2016
Grant me forgiveness.
For my mouth had acted prematurely
and erred.
Acrid words my tongue can't retract.
My lips quiver,
pursed and scared.

Grant me relief.
For my ego had lunged.
Fueled emotions that strayed.
Sensible thoughts in mind
that my heart had betrayed.

Grant me strength and courage.
Let the next morn's sun,
illuminate the dark obstinacy of my heart.
Allow this bitter turbidity to pass.
So I could walk the hard road,
to a brand new start.
.
Sometimes words carry more venom than fangs.
And often, the path to absolution lies first, in forgiving oneself.
.
ryn  Dec 2015
Fearless
ryn Dec 2015
Too long I've rested upon my throne.
Ordained as ruler,
I wield a sceptre
imbued with old indoctrinated notions.
Bound in aged, tired traditions.
Obstinacy clasped tight within my fingers.

Living by the
foundations laid,
imposed by predecessors before.
I realise that I am but caged
within my self enforced confines.

I want what lays beyond...
But I am afraid...
And more...

I must embrace the unknown.
Be fearless...
And take to the darkness.

Because...

One can only fly free into greatness
if one is unafraid to take the leap
into changing winds.
Nat Lipstadt Mar 2014
The excerpt below is from an interview Philip Roth gave to Daniel Sandstrom, the cultural editor at Svenska Dagbladet, for publication in Swedish translation in that newspaper, and in its original English in the Book Review of the New York Times (March 1, 2014).

It was laid out in normal article (paragraph) form, but I chose to re-present here, line by line, sentence by sentence, for it struck me as I first read it, as a prose poem, and a source of inspiration for me.  But then I realized, I could not improve upon his words, just risk diminishing them.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“The struggle with writing is over” is a recent quote. Could you describe that struggle, and also, tell us something about your life now when you are not writing?

Everybody has a hard job.
All real work is hard.
My work happened also to be undoable.
Morning after morning for 50 years,
I faced the next page
defenseless and unprepared.
Writing for me was a feat of self-preservation.
If I did not do it, I would die.

So I did it.
Obstinacy, not talent, saved my life.
It was also my good luck that
happiness didn’t matter to me
and I had no compassion for myself.
Though why such a task
should have fallen to me I have no idea.
Maybe writing protected me
against even worse menace.

Now?
Now I am a bird sprung from a cage
instead of (to reverse Kafka’s famous conundrum)
a bird in search of a cage.
The horror of being caged has lost its thrill.
It is now truly a great relief,
something close to a sublime experience,
to have nothing more
to worry about than death.
-------------------------------------------------------------­--­---

http://www.nytimes.com/2014/03/16/books/review/my-life-as-a-writer.html?_r=0
.
Yes, perhaps 'tis true.
Everywhere I go-with all t'ese dwindling thoughts on my mind-
'tis always the same shadows that roam, and moan-
before my eyes: and t'eir never-ending business.
Crawling on t'eir lips,
poisoning t'eir bosoms, chins, and hips-
but unrelenting in their unfolded shades;
with a swamp of bruises like mazes-tangled mazes;
likening them to spoiled, yet uncherished, little pearls.
How despairing-such views I obtaineth, on my every journey!
But shalt there still be space for us, to be outstanding;
to understand this world from a pair of eyes
glistening like unquestioning gentleness; but learning simultaneously
its unvivid perspectives
with such comprehension t'at is crystal clear;
such wit t'at is far from recklessness and greed-
salutations that are pure, and distant from any blighting threats
of equivocation? For t'is world is, in spite of its minuteness,
was framed and brought into life from
awesome darkness, abysmal cells of lifelessness
and hateful ambiguity.
How terrifying!
And often have I enforced myself to wandereth into those shades,
with unmolested poems boiling up in my brains-
and t'ose windy thoughts toppling out into th' paper
on my hand,
jostling through my veins like some ghastly, furious power
t'at's unseen, invisible as it is to th' human eye-
frail and susceptible to th' weather's surly temptations-
and entrapping me in the shrieks of its wondrous grot-
so I could never wane it any further, in my guileless brambles.
How I have dreaded t'ose sights-and t'eir dormant treachery! Lessons of
guilt, teaching of such guilty flakes of harm
and abomination! And how in my following quietude have I pondered-
t'at t'is would be just a balmy prelude to some far bigger strains of
mockery, obstinacy, and destitution. Hark to how those powers
shall arise! And that will indeed be th' abjuration of our splendidness-
everything shalt stop at a halt-everything will become flawed,
and no more poems shalt be liberated-from living souls, and t'eir undamaged
blood, as t'ey still are now! How I shiver at t'ose possibilities, as soon as our
latent enemies be on th' loose-free in t'eir ruthlessness, traces of dark,
unperturbed miseries, and brutal savagery.
And shalt we shine no more-like those summer flowers that are waiting for us-
to be fed daily like th' hungry morning doves;
with their thorns as sharp as love, and innocent gladness
in the arms of their lips-'tis but a scent so dear to the heartbeat
of oureth salubrious mornings.
But t'at danger, danger indeed! And its eyes of glaring monstrosity!
And 'tis just of substantial profoundness t'at we should be
cautious-yes, cautious, my dear fellows, towards t'ose signs
of th' upcoming storm-th malevolent storm of human rage, t'at shalt attack us
one day-at one perilous night, unpredicted and unexpected is its fate-
especially when all th' battling footsteps areth
peaceful in their slumbers-and no more palms dancing around
piles of paper-in th' holy procurement of continual wealth.
How t'at moment shalt be our early Armageddon-awakened shalt be
all rivers of terrors, and waves of hatred. How t'is beautiful solitude shalt end-
in th' fierce burning, brimming death of t'at flame-credulous shalt we be,
disempowered from th' heat-which shalt bring us but our dead feet.
Thus I but sincerely hope t'at gloom shalt not conquer our race-
the noblest of all creatures on earth-on t'is dull earth, fatigued as it is
from all th' uniformed battles, hatred, and anger-t'at untiringly sneer
at th' faces of those dying soldiers.
Peace, peace, my dear mates!
Ought to realize thou now-t'at swords shalt shed blood only if instructed.
So tranquility is but in oureth hands-yes, we are but th' key to our own salvation,
and since it is so, shalt we move forward and be the charms of t'is world's
new foundation: for it is our own life that we shalt save.
Peace, my friends, shalt but break all t'ese unseen boundaries amongst us,
and enrich our fathom of t'eir unspoken presence; so t'at th' small world is but
th' most dwelling of comfort, and aught but ease to our hearts-
our very dear, dear hearts in t'is life.
SUDHANSHU KUMAR Feb 2023
No, he's not pessimistic
It's just that he's accepted the reality
He has examined every single angle
But got the same result each time
The radius is not yet ready to form a cone
So, he has to cope with the circle only
He understands things very well
Hence, there's no point in being optimistic...

The tree would bloom only in the spring
So, it continues to wait for that season
Similarly, he's also waiting for the storm to pass by
And the clouds to rain down 
So that he can see the clear blue sky
Under which he'd again try to convince
The radius to give up its obstinacy
And to form the cylinder, if not the cone...
If he can't be at the top alone... Let him be equal with every other being..!
Krissy Schiller Jul 2011
Caution, lost in the motion,
The tender lapse of green sea waves
The scent that has become you,
Sweet, sweet summer rain.

Like magnets, the polar pull, subsequent and building
The silent seize of your stomach muscles
Oh honeycomb.
Wrapped in cellophane, and the fleece in our ears

Your chin, the small hollow in which rests my head,
The cradle of your Adam's apple.
For hours I studied the color transmit in the darks of your eyes,
Of subtle change and shade

The soft, downy wool of your legs,
Warm blankets rescued from the creaking loft.
And your slow, sleeping breaths, of wind whistling through wheat fields
Shared dreams of barefoot gardens, sweet peppers in springtime

The gentle obstinacy of your fingers,
Extended forward in the thaw of shallow slumber.
The difference between oak and pine,
This nest you constructed, we lay in.

Nestled underneath the galaxy you installed, pin by pin.
Ayad Gharbawi Feb 2010
NOT LOOKING AT OURSELVES

August 7, 2009 - Damascus

Ayad bin Izzet


Why is it so hard to think of ourselves?
Why is it so hard to change bad habits that seem to possess us?
It seems to be a near certain fact, that humans do not like to think of themselves; certainly, very few seriously, deeply think about themselves. Who asks himself: “How do I look like to people?” “How do I sound to people, when I say this and that?” “Why is it people like certain aspects of my behaviour?”
When you open up such a subject to people in general, it is common to hear: “Look, I don’t care what people may think of me”. But an answer like that will not help you go far in this world. You do need to pay attention to what people think about you, otherwise you will be, de facto, behaving like a tyrannical dictator – you are, in effect, alienating and restricting the advancement of your varied self interests.
Why you ask me?
Because we all need people if we are going to succeed in our professional and social lives. Without the agreement of people you cannot succeed, unless if your work can survive within a hermit’s context.
So why are people so antagonistic to change themselves?
I think that for people they are scared of thinking about themselves because they fear what they might find out the nature of what is existing within themselves.
Another reason, is addiction. A person may simply be compulsively addicted to the harmful personality he has – yes, even if he knows that his personality is harmful to his own self interests.
I talk about this subject because we all do need to change our selves, our personalities - since all the troubles of our entire lives emanate from one source: we dysfunctional humans!
Where else do they come from?
And yet, anyone who has ever tried to explain to another person their faults will surely go nowhere. No one is interested. I know one lady who I call the ‘Pharmacist’ because she lovingly showers everyone else with advice, while she herself cannot bear to hear one word with respect to her faults. And then, as the years passed, I came to realize, why all people are basically ‘Pharmacists’!
People have an obstinacy that harder than leather, colder than an icicle; we simply will not improve, as human beings, if we remain this determined not to reform our minds.
And there is nothing else to add on this sorry subject.
How pathetically sad.
A fine epitaph on Humanity’s grave.
Is fate a myth
Or simply history
In the making?
Time has no control,
Humanity can alter in many ways,
Change is inevitable,
It eventually possesses species
To age and exist,
Change is a chain cycle,
Like repeated life and endless death,
Every time
A new creature is born,
A human is modified
Into an improved being,
Fictional characters attract
Later relations
Becoming real friends,
Emotions rain
Upon nothing,
Carelessness listens,
Rusted persons remain,
Fascination of naive substitutions,
Dissimilar appearance is shown,
It is humor,
A parody act of an individual,
Copycats are role models
Also reversed,
Prototype is modernized,
A flash realization,
Attire is just costumes,
Halloween is every day,
It is bitter
To join a daily moment
Without forgetting happiness,
An original reemerges alone,
Continuous trial and error,
Cancelled plans,
Prevention of bail,
Focus on detachment,
Enemies enhance friends,
Vice versa,
Ignorance, selfishness, and obstinacy
Play important roles
For imminent loneliness,
Layers peel off,
Phases reattach,
Advanced coating,
Flesh is fresh,
Advantage is taken
Before it rots,
Practice makes perfect,
But nobody is flawless,
So why rehearse?
Conversion is harder
Once an escape is made,
Easier to turn back to habits,
Longed antique people
Update to mainstream
For the familiar fame
Causing personal depression,
Difficulty in translation,
One false move,
One mistake
Can shape everything,
Change is for better or worse,
It is neutral,
Trust is a dare,
It shall be a risk if so,
Life is not sacred anymore,
Beautiful opportunities,
Immortal lessons,
Unfulfilled difference,
Generation increases,
Veneration decreases,
A drifter or a breather
From a mundane reality
Lived in today,
Buried childhood,
Alive adulthood,
Until skin wrinkles,
Life becomes dull,
Change is the only regret,
Eyes analyze nouns,
Burn from mutation,
Melt out of sockets,
Now fluid, now tears,
Due to Change
In this planet,
Lips are blankets,
Teeth forever hidden,
Numb dumb face,
No-expression,
Distressful internal scream,
Thanks to Change,
Influence should disappear,
Good or bad,
Abnormal transformation
Is inner and outer,
Every living period,
The topics,
The only events,
Violence will never change
But progress,
*** will never change
But process,
Suicide will never change
But build deaths,
Down to the physique of Earth,
Its decay,
**** sapien extinction,
Change occurs,
Past blurs out,
Present is happening,
Future will shout,
What is not needed
Is pleaded,
What is not wanted
Is taunted,
Creating temptation
To shift self,
Society ripens into rumors
Always developing
Over infinite time,
Civilization is the tumors
Of the world divine,
Of course
Looks mature,
Genes mix,
Still adjusting,
From a caterpillar
To a butterfly,
When insects die,
Old selves perish,
Where there is dead
There is still transition,
Not by action or choice,
Soul disintegrates,
Spiritual decomposition,
Sprouts regenerated seeds,
Change is sane and insane,
It is humane and inhumane,
Keeping some youth
In the heavy heart,
Offspring morph into aliens
Proving Darwin wrong,
What stays human
Is what stays pure
To hinder their contagion,
No matter what at first,
As it grows and grows,
Change is unexpected,
Social morality
Evolves into
Singular morality
Unless hate enters love,
Love is reduced
And produced,
The amount varies,
True passion figures out,
Full respect notices disguise,
Isolation underneath,
Distinct memories
Soon fade obsolete,
Exception of fragile organs,
Mind is psychologically sadden,
Recollection is to function,
If consciousness is missed,
Recreate remembrance,
Reincarnation
For an everlasting current
Since time fluctuates eternally.
st64  Mar 2014
the imp of wisdom
st64 Mar 2014
he who knows..
he who speaks..

laughing all the time
disobeying every law
even the great-king laughed
till he retired for five centuries
to meditate


1.
the imp of wisdom
with coat of gold-brocade and mint-lining
never crawled but crashed
all parties with *ephemerated
-crime
with banner held high, he spread mirth
but the jay-lord's son was not amused
and challenged the magic-monkey
who blew but one hair-strand to duplicate the view
and the foe fought hard against the wind
which made one **** and disappeared

there he was.. up on the beam
munching joyful an apple to the core
and ire met his glaring eyes
he lifted a large vase and forced fire inside
and sent it forth
but excellent skills of the hermit shone
until deception caught him by surprise
ugly lies and secret art sent the baton flying
into malingering-oblivion
and left the imp banished into stone
mockery petrified
and the staff traveled on, alone
where it spins to this day
until it finds a worthy-hand
to catch its portent, embossed with ancient-lore


2.
but the player of the lyre spun a thread to turn all heads upside-down
spinning a feline-twist
smacks them with tight silver-aglet'd tresses
and sends the hunters onto a new trail
of unspeakable dangers on the Fifth-Pathway
a hooded rider on a steed so fast
outruns the stallion over a cawing-hill
a silent-temple starts humming olden-prayers in tongues-forgot
to a drunken-master
calabash-mug in the hand of an expert
pretense hard at work in the grey-dust

both holding onto the same thing
makes sharing one swish of a horse's tale
a miniature-masterpiece sways obstinacy
interceptor-serpent too languid to trap the crab
silent riddles stretch learning to land at the waterfall's feet
its power majestic, yet freeing


empty your cup
pour anew
there's half a shadow beneath the bridge
the one you must cross
take finest-care now





S T, 1 march 2014
just a silly piece..



sub-entry: protect yourself

read the letters on the wall
now.. duck!

— The End —