They are weak to time.      Be like a river,
eroding away      the stubborn limestone.

11:30 - 20/08/17

State of mind: calm; deep-thought.
Perspectives: natural; ethical; structural; spiritual.

Thoughts: from conversations and thinking - that some structure's seem so concrete, so fixed and unyielding it can be daunting, almost impossible to have your impact felt. This is why we must be persistent and relentless in our ambition. We must be like the river.

This dyad specifically came about from a conversation on women in religion, feminism and gender equality. The metaphor in the dyad came like a flash of inspiration after hearing the humorous remark ~ 'If women ruled the world, men wouldn't have time to fight'.

Perhaps, the struggle's of humanity unto itself, through time, are like the river eroding away the embankments of ignorance. This viewpoint runs contrary to the opinion that history repeats itself. Instead, it hopes mankind is in a process of understanding, defining a destiny of its own, different to its basic, selfish nature. Figuring out the best or just way is learnt from trial and error, observation and reflection. This applies not only for the individual but for evolution itself.

Questions: Instead of using force, how can the integrity of an ignorant belief, be chipped away, piece by piece?

there's a drink called sweet burgendy
and then another drink called hennesy,
a damned fine congac

as she sat down
with a glass of hennessy
waiting to die
and typed out her last livejournal entry

where she counted out the pills for us
and told us the names and colors of each three

names and colors i can't remember now

And even the world before us disappears
I would still run right into your arms

Just nothing

God damn!- where do I start?
This whole word has us all tearing each other apart,-
“White is Black?
Black is white?,-
Which one is better, I just can’t decide.”

This is all bullshit. How many of you ever had the experience?
They throw it in our face to keep us segregated.
“So, yeah eventually, they’ll tear each other at the seams,
Pull away from each other and start a war for you and me,”
Profet.
You see it’s all about the money,
And I find it pretty funny,
How they keep the system running,
How they keep us brainwashed, always grunting,
“Stupid white crackers,
Black people matters.
Anorexics just get fatter,
Bigger bitches get thinner faster.
Dark people whine,
They don’t even take the time,
To realize, that everybody matters,”
While you sit there making patterns!

We are judged by the clothes we wear,-
Despised because life isn’t fair,
Controlled by society,
These things deep inside of me.
I strive to make a difference.
Let everyone know, this world we’re living in,
Is only tearing us apart controlling you and him,-
When everything is about looks,
When everyone’s stuck in the hooks,
Where the only people who really took,-
The time to sit back and,-
Realize,
That the only real problem is one that we all just need to solve then,
And that is greed.
And I know what you mean,
When you say it’s in every phene,
In everyone,-
But if we could just flip the table,
And rewrite the constitution of this fable,-
Create a new story,
A whole new series to a book with a mile to go,
With a pretty perfect ending if we get it together for sure,
But it took a lot of,
Strong people,
Like General George Washington,
Or Abraham Lincoln who believed in truth, again-
We all need to agree on a change,
One that everyone will gain,
Stop making yourself insane,
It’s just the stupid fucking game!

We are programed to believe that “Oh it’s is here and it’s a thing”
So you follow it so mindlessly,
Listen,-
You’re being told what to and not, you’re being controlled by the world’s twisted knot.
They got you wrapped around their finger, telling who they think is better,
Do you even do your research?
Bet you’re a sheep just like your “leader”,-

They only give you what you need,
To live in greed,
Be so obscene,
They only feed you pretty lies,
Open your eyes,
Nothing!

You can’t see the things they throw at you,
You’re so busy getting what you need,
Striving for that newer thing,
Letting everyone think you got money,
Cause, oh it’s just a little bling;
Listen!

It’s distractions from the plot,
The reason you gotta trot,
Like a little tiny puppy walking around on legs so stubby,
But it’s like the same thing,
You they are owning!
Able to manipulate the minds of the mature,
Minds of all the children and taking them away from human nature,-

I say,
Just go and preach the truth, ain’t nobody gonna stop you.
If they shut you down,
Just come back around,
We hear you.
All the people who know what’s up,
They will stand so please look up,
Just go and release the world, do it for me,
For the people sick and tired of this god forsaken world.
We have truly gone too far,
Just look at who we are,
If an author were to describe us as a whole we are more like crashing cars.
This world can’t go nowhere but up,
Well it can but don’t let it get too corrupt.

Maybe it is I don’t know I’m just writing a poem,
And I’m pouring out my soul.

Sun 18h

The writer held the reader close
by a heaven-bound kiss

Wakes her up
like the spring wakes up
it's favorite Lily of the Valley

The reader's eyes drifted to the horizon
with an unswerving gaze
The colors of the fading sunset
up in the hill
embraced the distant skyline

After a long musical silence of life
The reader found her writer
with a promise to greet
the new chapter of the shared lives
in a new dawn

Neither just because I have the most ideal parents
Nor because I have a promising career on the crossroads.
Neither just because I have few good friends
Nor because I have a rapport with the Death.
But because I am with You, my love
I am the luckiest man alive!

My HP Poem #1652
©Atul Kaushal

In a culture where reading is corny
Writing is even worse.
How do you explain child hood.
If all you had was a stuck of magazines.
Dreams dreamt.
At so tender an age.
Vision built.
Life looked at at a different perspective.
A beautiful perspective.

How do you explain.
That childhood can be books and stories.
How do you explain that its okay.
To not play in the hot afternoon sun.
To not mingle with the neighbourhood kids.
Because Beckham looks better on that magazine cover.
And you prefer to understand every bit of his wedding.

Is it wrong to grow up so fast.
Is it wrong to know about the world at 4.
And explain it better than the teacher...
Because you've read the story over and over...
Is it wrong to try to understand.
Actual things apart from dodge ball and running.

Maybe knowing is the greatest strength.
A gift open to readers.
Whereas others were born to live.
Others were born to do much more.
To spell life out.
To record moments.
To write down history.
And to proudly read it out......
To remind the world of a beauty they are too busy to record.

I threw myself out in the pond
in an act of play
and didn’t realize
until I caught a whale
that I had embraced the ocean.

Yup, it’s a walk down memory lane but still too relevant and vividly accurate. Life never stops, does it? Just takes you further and further along the risky and wide expanse of the unknown.

I am but air
in this hall of-
unreason

And I am square with myself;
I am alive, I do not breath
yet, I do and I must,

see-
the light
because I am the light and so are you,
you are there in all black dressed,
to the nines in the curtain rail twirling in the background.

I don't know what it means,
that's why they call it poetry.

a poem about the weather in Manchester
Next page