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Poetoftheway Apr 16
coffee stain memories (an aging love)

our dozen or so mugs,
all white, her color of choice,
accumulating stains of black-brown coffee
that the dishwasher poetically concedes,
a decade plus of drinking, now, oh-now,
****** and can’t be removed

the lips of some are chipped,
the lips of some are chapped,
but they remain employed
for first coffee is a demonstrable
affectation of affection that losing
would be costly

but one of us soto voce, quietly whispers
the radical ionized idea,
shouldn’t we replace,
this should-not is an update, a cognition of
a bridge too far,
both agreeing, both conceding the symbolism,
the heart acknowledges a momentary thrombosis,
for the losing turnover is a winless loss

messaging in and about,
an aging staining love losing

A no ki tov tuesday poem
11:36 tuesday ki tov 16/4/2000+nineteen

“The third day of Creation [Bereshis 1:9-13] is the only day in which the expression “G-d saw that it was good” is mentioned twice. This expression is mentioned both following the gathering of the waters which divided the seas from the dry land, and following the sprouting of vegetation and seed- bearing plants – both of which occurred on the third day of Creation.
As a result of the fact that Tuesday had a double portion of “ki tov” [that it was good], Tuesday is considered a particularly fortuitous day of the week. Many people specifically plan their wedding for this day. When moving into a new house, many people plan to move on Tuesday. Many people try to start a new job on Tuesday.”
Bleeding Doc May 2018
ishq pyar mohhabat
ye sabd paraye lagte hai,
anjan *** inke mayano se
ek ehsas iss dil me jise me
mohabat samazha karta tha
jisse dard ke siwa kuch na mila

yeh mehsoos bhi nai hua ki
apne he apnon ke  pankh
kat chuke the,
talash thi to bas us kandhe ki thi
jo iss ladkhadate hue ko sahara de sake

fir bhi, dhire dhire iss katon ki
chadar par aage badna hai,
dil yehi kehta rehta hai,
kyunki jhuthi hansi ki kuch
aisi adat si ** gayi hai,
ki ab chahte hue bhi dard
ka ehsas nahin hota hai

naa paresaniya, naa halaat na he koi rog hai
jinhonw hame sataya hai aur koi nahi
wo jhuthe log hai, wo jhuthe log Hai!

jhuthe logon ki duniya me
sachai ki kimat kon jaanega,
toot kar bikhar jayega
jo inse ulajhne ki thanega,
bhalai hai dur rahe aise logon se
jo achai ka naatak karte hai
dhakel denge ye bure daur andhere me
jo girega nikal naa payega!
ishq pyar mohhabat paraye paresaniya rog jhuthe logon ki duniya me
White like the North
and the cold places on the earth
my great grandfather was fond of
over-proof *** and
caribbean sailor blue waves

His Nigerian goddess bore him
nine children
pretty little barefoot toffee skinned children
scampering through sugarcane fields
and tall tropical grasses
the lilting sound of their voices
playing on balmy breezes

My Aunt Glo remembers him well
strolling about with his switch and
stiff upper English lip
he governed the immense rural
Jamaican plantation in St. Elizabeth
around the end of the Nineteeth century

Everyone called him Pupa and his
wife Muma

I don't know much about Muma
except that her mother was an
enslaved person and that she
had to tolerate the insult of ritually
hiding her mixed children when
Pupa's mother, Lady Bush
flounced into town with her entourage

There is an old photograph of
the two of them:

Muma in white frock seated,
her eyes drooping brown sparrows
Pupa with his switch, pocket watch
and far away eyes
I think we are afraid of the vastness
we fear the vastness
the wild untamed beauty of our true nature

The other day at twilight,
I was traveling with my niece, Carina
down St. John's Heritage Highway
the view was absolutely breathtaking
no houses, no development, no people
just vast stretches of old Florida

As we paused to look at the primeval vista
my niece said she found it unnerving - the vastness

I told her I loved it because it reminded me of meditation
losing awareness of our limited, ordinary self
we enter an inexplicable vastness, primordial void
people-less, formless, infinite

We feel eternal truth rushing through our veins
We are part of a larger picture
greater than anything we can imagine

In the starry arms of the blossoming Universe
we rest safe, secure and loved forever
Kinan Lee Aug 2016
I wish I could **** the time, certainly no regrets

I've hiked
I've been sailing
pleasure is my life now

I forgot more fiery
Just when I flirt with the night
succeeded in make me sleep

I forgot more growing
I started to guess the world
Increasingly complex world
And almost misleading me

I even forgot
However dawn greeted
I had fallen asleep in the evening
Since that time I have love with you
ConnectHook Sep 2015
“Humankind: be kind – be One!
I am appalled at what’s been done.
Benign intentions must restrain us.
Hate should never entertain us.”

The toad comedian Ban Ki-Moon
croaked a pitiful One-World tune
while gunmen paused, reloaded, armed
checked that they had no comrades harmed –
and then prepared for further battle
against the clueless kuffar cattle.

Ban stood upright to intervene;
surveyed the terrorific scene…
muezzins chanted, mullahs chuckled
swords were sharpened, bomb-vests buckled.
Dhimmi dim-wits went on shopping.
(Are heads in sand less prone to chopping ?)

Hesitating, he cleared his throat,
raised his pitch by a quarter note:
“These acts are most undemocratic
We are saddened; yet emphatic – “

(no one heard his discourse further
drowned by the sound of massive ******…)

So let’s consider what is meant
by rolling heads and bodies splattered…
time for Truth to represent
(as if such inconvenience mattered…)

Such events disturb our sleep
and force us to compose, on waking,
lullabies for drowsy sheep
as predators are overtaking.

Flags of doom and holy slaughter,
sons of Ishmael filled with rage
are coming for your wife and daughter
and yourself. You turn the page.

Rising now to storm your tower
(7th century back to bite you),
Allah brings satanic power
to convert you or to smite you.

****** dhimmis would have us think
such rage is due to unemployment;
pure confusion on the brink
of funding further troop deployment.

Meanwhile, mullahs sip their tea
while tenured academics prattle
watching MSNBC
as soldiers die in battle.
A poetic response to Charlie Hebdo massacre
neerajsoni Dec 2014
usne pucha tha meri udasi ka sabab,
mene kaha
wo aaine me tasvir ubharti he fir fanna kyu **
jati he,
usne pucha tasvir kiski dikhai deti he tumhe,
mene kaha
na uska naam he na pata fir bhi apna sa lagta
usne kaha kuch guftagu bhi kar ti he tasvir
mene kaha
ha magar alfaz nahi hote uske ankho se baat
karti he.
usne kaha kya kehti he uski ankhe mujhe bhi to
mene kaha
uski ankho me mujhe pyar nazar ata he
unkahi baato ka izhaar nazar ata he.
usne pucha kya ikrar kiya he tum ne usse
mene kaha
me to karta hu koshish-e-ikarar karne ki magar
inkar hi ajata he
usne kaha bade hi wo ** tum ikraar se darte **
mene kaha ikrar se bhala kon darta he me to bas
pyar se darta hu
me to bas pyar se darta hu
udasi ka sabab
Poetic T Jul 2014
Chi energy & life
Creation which flows abundant
Water, crystalline, steam
Life is one but different, from the same spring many forms but one

— The End —