Certainly our city with its byres of poverty down to
The river's edge, its cathedral, its engines, its dogs;
Here is the cosmopolitan cooking
And the light alloys and the glass.

Built by the conscience-stricken, the weapon-making,
By us. Wild rumours woo and terrify the crowd,
Woo us. Betrayers thunder at, blackmail
Us. But where now are They.

Who without reproaches showed us what our vanity
has chosen,
Who pursued understanding with patience like a ***,
had unlearnt
Our hatred and towards the really better
World had turned their face?

Who knows? The peaked and violent faces are exalted,
The feverish prejudiced lives do not care, and lost
Their voice in the flutter of bunting, the glittering
Brass of our great retreat,

And the malice of death. For the wicked card is dealt and
The sinister tall-hatted botanist stoops at the spring
With his insignificant phial and looses
The plague on the ignorant town.

Under their shadows the pitiful subalterns are sleeping;
The moon is usual; the necessary lovers touch;
The river is alone and the trampled flower;
And through years of absolute cold

The planets rush towards Lyra in a lion's charge. Can
Hate so securely bind? Are they dead here? Yes.
And the wish to wound has the power. And tomorrow
Comes. It's a world. It's a way.

bang against
the glass and break,
sun against skin
porous thin,
window pane.
we begin the same
no name, no shackled
weight, no net we
seek to escape,
each word yet
unlearnt hangs
unheard
in some unknown
air, waiting to be
plucked fresh
from the vine
imbibed like wine,
into a part of
the heart that learns
the word 'pain'
too often to remain
the same.

fall down in new town
and break down while unbound
laughing while melting
and smiling making no sound
finding things hidden
and riding things unridden
while taken long lost unbidden
but leftovers are long given
from raiders undriven
and nonlooking foes unsmitten
burning the smithies
with weeds so pity
the trade and grade
of long lost givings
and unlearnt ideas
melting down in the smithing
because clothes so ripping
cause morality dipping
and effort slipping
and real gifts ungifting

Seasons go and seasons come
Daily we seek dawn of victory
Like we did the day before
Out again, lust for glory
Like the people long before us
Our destination remains cloudy
But as they did deep in the storm
We push with brute and paddle on wildly
Hot days and cold nights
Vain expectations,self inflicted pains
Lamps burnout,we wallow in the dark
Seeing nothing but memories of the past
Like shadows cast,our progress relapse  
New dawn and our eyes are clear
Partially,again, we retrace our steps
Away as earlier on a new route
On course for old lessons unlearnt.

I am death
I am breath
I am the everless
that sweeps the hollows of whats unkept
devouring and burnt
broken and unlearnt
turn the page
turn over and sink
and drink heavily
into your sleep
I awake large and deep

A child assumed adults' superiority.
Hero worshipped older members of his family.
Absorbed opinions overheard over pints.
Tried them on for size at school,
As he did an Uncle's cool leather jacket
- comforting, macho and confidence-giving -
But he outgrew the jacket,
Cast aside those learnt opinions,
Tough, stubborn opinions
With rugged exteriors
Lined with seductive silken narratives
That, thankfully, perished over time.

Root of all evil, starring lito rodriquez, on the marquee,
too quick to see--
ah, ai knows, lito is
the latino, a, non procreatorrerior-ole'
in sense 8,
the series
sense seven is this one
you sense something has not yet
sequentially
been true, but ever
was so now has come, and the trick
is knowing when
the game ends,
and
life in the realm of reasons to be
that have remained reasons to try
to be, succeed the wish
to itch, as you can imagine, a
hair shirt sin-def fed acolytes, c
students of lessoning the unlearnt…
the itch that is successfully scratched
static elect, yes amber shades of evening,
yellow lensing, shooter lense, see the point
focus, mortal mind best self,
taking matters in mind and making
mothers of others that wish, hope pray
ah, ai knows, lito is/
no spoilers/
only notice-t by the sorted few
who watch matrix four during its elite
HBOMAX thirty-one day, hook
to the reason for the season,
leveling, all creed need
to see the his, of the season for the eternal
effectuality of constant
entertainment, when other times

we gathered around fires, and told tales
we gathered on the way home.