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Ylzm Apr 30
Sword of Ishmael, robed in Assyria's mantle,
Consecrated of God, Prince of princes,
A Destroyer: the executioner of judgements.
A thorn driven deep into the heart of Jerusalem,
Tempting violent men, who pride in their strength,
as Excalibur and the Gordian Knot challenged
Arthur and Alexander.
O Prince Charming - O so young
There with lyre, just horsing around,
Maidens sought and maidens fair,
(Or prance along stable boys, I don't care)
Glowing sunlit golden hair, kept well,
Yet have at me an Alexander though,
great conqueror and builder hold,
Prince be ******, give me a king
Give me an emperor to so tempt,
Not an inexperienced boy on slights
but a battle-hardened man, a ruler instead.
Shofi Ahmed Aug 2018
Alexander of Macedonia this time
won’t U-turn from the might Gangaridai.
At the bubbling edge in the Indian subcontinent,
one would dare, taking his last plunge,
believing it here the proverbial Well of Life!

Yet Al Khwarizmi will discover the algebra,
drawing from ‘nothing,’ purely untouchable:
The Zero from the Indian pole.
Not a digit, not a number on its own, yet it’s all.
Every number jumps up in the zero loophole!
Then the whole number bows down into decimals,
escalating the hunts of the 1.618 golden ratios.

Plough through at your own pace
for the uncharted water, for ab-e-hayath.
Sip in a drop of elixir in this secured zone.
Sylhet is in the core, is written in stone.

What do these mean? I too wonder
down the line, I was intrigued by the Arab
and Indian tectonic plates’ slow dance.
Both rolled out, hugging each other
Then the Makkan soil lying at the heart of earth
gets exposed, with Sylhet’s soil it pairs up!
360 Sufi dynamos, mathematically a perfect circle,
find the match giving a perfect heads up
laid on the nine yard show the whole box of wax,
simply inking the vivo jump on the storylines.

What’s under the tectonic-rug at the bottom of the earth?
Shush softly, whisper—the heavens might hear it out!
Hold on to the least bit, it could be all one wants.
The earth, the ocean, all started with a drop of water!
Let alone any well, which way did this original matter,
the first, primeval drop of water stream down
Has this alleyway been exposed here, or in Paradise?
Then how can we say we don't have a secret for Paradise?
Sylhet is regarded as the spiritual capital of Bangladesh.
Julie Murphy Jun 2018
This is a story of a boy
Which may be a little sad
At the tender age of only eight
Alexander sadly lost his dad
He grew to be a dashing man
And married in twelve sixty one
To Margaret, the daughter of a king
Who tried to bully his in law son
He wanted recognised as an overlord
But Alexander directly refused
Margarets dad did not kick off
But surely his ego was bruised
In twelve sixty two
Alex claimed he owned some land
The Western Isles belonged to him
He decided to take a stand
King Haakon of Norway disputed his claim
And set sail to true form
Alexander prayed for more time
And Haakon was caught in a storm
He died after falling ill
And Alex pressed his case
Haakon's succession to the throne
Did not keep Haakon's pace

(C) Julie Murphy 2015
All feedback welcomed
trf Apr 2018
my life was craving
desperate attention
smoke signals in the sky
Mmm Hmmm

when she found my
heart's ascension
she dropped a ****** surprise

       from a crashing wave
       escaped a mourning dove
       i was starving and was saved
      for two years by force-fed love

my life was aching
shall I be released
you could see it in my eyes
Mmm Hmmm

but i succumbed like when  
a dog with disease
goes under the porch to die

      from a new born son
      my heart rose above
      i'll never turn and run
      thankful for force-fed love

my emotions
current like oceans
raised feet drift towards sunrise
Mmm Hmm

with all devotion
my new love potion
no more makeup disguise

     unchained cannon ball
     sunk my force-fed love
     to surface from this fall
     all i needed was a forceful shove
I don't know if the grass is always greener on the other side, i've been on both. What i do know is regardless of which side you're on; if that grass isn't showered with love it becomes brown, withers and dies anyways, so maybe that saying is irrelevant and we chase our tails.
Jayantee Khare Jul 2017
Not only the winner,
but the one
knowing that,
when to be a loser,
is also
"Alexander"
Solaces Jan 2016
His white sun fire eyes burn deep into my soul and aura.  He already knows that I am here to stop him.  But yet he still welcomes me to his darkness eating light.  

I then try and reason with him.  "  I cannot let you advance. I will allow you to keep this quadrant of the universe.  You will be a grand galaxy size star that will shine eternal.  Many will look to you with hope and wishes beyond measure.  You could shine forever here. Bring hope to many who have none.  I know your intentions are good. But they will end all life as we know it.  It will put an end to all the colors ever known.  There will be nothing left to define what you have done except the very nothing you will become. The light then will forever be known as nothing at all.  I beg you. Take this offer.  Shine eternal. "

His eyes then seem to shine brighter. He then spoke to me with a whimsical voice.   "  The darkness has taken more from me than you can ever comprehend Stardiver. A being much like me made out of darkness took my universe away. It took all light away. I was able to find this universe in my last desperation of life.  Don't you see! If I absorb all the darkness here I can finally destroy him.  There is enough light here yet to do so.   Join me Stardiver.  Please help me get revenge for my universe drowned in darkness. "
An offer to shine forever.
Stanley Wilkin Nov 2015
AS
As they grew older they grew further away
Withholding their love
Remote, with apparently little to say
No words, no tears, no kind of stuff
Falling from their distant lives
Living with new thoughts, lovers, wives.
A troupe of sons, gambling with time!

Alexander was a rotten son of a brilliant father
Misled by a mother’s lies
Into an oedipal outrage. Spurred to violence, rather
Then be a man he became a legend, pursued by biting flies.
Betrayal often leads to success,
The betrayer a psychological mess.

The love of a child evaporates
Evident in the lives of kings
The urge for power saturates
Ignores duty, gratitude, those kind of things.
But hell! So what?
We once, objects of their beaming infant smiles, received such a lot.

OK, Richard the First left his father to die alone,
John ripped the money from the dead man’s purse,
They then fought each other for the throne
Making a family feud undeniably worse.
Throughout history, the mothers taking new ambitious lovers
Caused greater angst amongst whole generations of brothers.

Families are rarely friends: brother fights brother
Sister quarrels with sister, battling incessantly,
Despising each carefully chosen lover
Examining each other critically.
The success of one initiates gloom,
A show of brilliance, a thunderous rain-wrenched boom.
  
Compared to great and legendary figures
Our problems are played out beneath a dimmer light
We drown our thoughts with liquor
Squabble like screeching bats in the night
No grabbing of swords, fastening of armour, beribboned horses
Our mundane arguments have tiny causes.
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