#certain
A responce, to a TV Preacher, justifying war:
{I had misthought my initial mission, I keep my peace.}
But I thought,
What about you being no man's enemy,
and no man's debtor,
but any man's friend,
when the friend is asking to share my just enough.
I believe, I think,
Just enough, is always plenty to share, some times,
that stranger already missed a meal, and you've missed
not even a snack, in weeks, years, perhaps,
what worth to you your last piece of money,
at that moment, here's the test, tell yourself,
do the right thing, when you have the chance.
Become the base line good, for you, steady,
building piles of settled little ****** beasties
what done give all the life each had, to add a bit
of bubbly possibility, as to what it is to know,
made up your good mastermind, and put it on,
be like, you, when you
were worth dying for, let the bubble
bear the word of peace for the blink of an eye,
we can make Jesus wink at all you never knew.
--- now, ask why you feel so lost, listen
good
we came to do today, say, look ye hear, I done
my gig, I did, and some shall someday swear, I did.
Instant poverty, nearly anywhere,
from the womb, boom,
the weight is maddening.
Instant riches, not so tough,
depending
on the defined worth in values
of the cost to fix the problem, messed up to start with,
Goddammed faulty knowledge acquisition application.
Snakes alive, we were to be so wise.
Run this by me again, said the judge. You
believe that life is given to be used… some duty,
to perform, which means living is free, but happy
costs money, in the form of time spent doing things,
and you personally leave being likely your duty
is to make peace by acting like a snake?
That's right, your honor, due to your perspication o'my
cautious wish to be harmless as the enemy doves,
as well as a little bit literate, for the future
writing or reading, yes, reading pays, testing retention,
what do you know about life and the universe,
if you know **** Feynman said life was worth 64, before
we were told the wrong question computed 42, with
everything included.
Something never computes, Will, Robin's son.
Oct 26, 2023
Oct 26, 2023 at 8:08 PM UTC
This year drawing to a close
Mind clouded by memory;
Your name
Future is a mystery but one thing is certain
Nothing ever will again be the same
Dec 24, 2022
Dec 24, 2022 at 7:00 AM UTC
You cannot fear the uncertain
If you want to be certain.
Sep 23, 2021
Sep 23, 2021 at 7:27 AM UTC
in a movie i loved as a kid,
the moon was seen as a sort of deity.
the man in the moon told people
who they were and what their destiny was.
of course that movie was fictional
and the characters were fake
and so was the man in the moon.
no one can tell me what my destiny is
no one can tell me who i am
or who i am going to be
in a movie i loved as a kid,
my love for the moon was born.
and still when i look up at it
i feel calm
still uncertain, still searching
but i know i don't have to do it alone
because there may not be a man in the moon
but nature will always be there
for me
Sep 12, 2021
Sep 12, 2021 at 6:03 PM UTC
There is no excusing what you did
Not greater betrayal than that
Heavier now than it was before
That is certain fact
Nov 21, 2020
Nov 21, 2020 at 5:15 AM UTC
Of you, I am certain
can it snow if the skies are cloudless blue?
will I kiss tomorrow the person sitting bus opposite,
who now gifts me love at first sight?
can my children’s children love me more for who I am,
and not just for who I am?
knowing does true love have an uncertain beginning and a certain end?
would I recognize peace of mind if I ever so blessed, had it in my possess?
if the sun never returned, is happiness possible?
can a broken heart mend itself without new love?
Of all these, I am uncertain. Of you, I am certain!
will this scrip of letters be beloved or overlooked and forgotten?
will the day come sooner when self-rising,
my eyes will be pleased at no new scar ‘discovery.’
my ears hear no snap crackle or pop, and
my blood, pre-warmed, by a lover’s attentions,
to happy coffee cooling and a poem-done at my feet?
will my flaws be healed, scars laser erased, my muddled past,
fall obedient to a blue skies, a white full moon embrace, yours?
will today be the day, two feet identical, left and right banished,
ten new colors invented and rainbow added, and sad illegal?
will I awake somewhere over the rainbow one day,
dreams coming true, troubles melted, way up high?
Of all these, I am uncertain. Of you, I am certain!
Jan 6, 2018
Jan 6, 2018 at 9:55 AM UTC
I asked about a man named Wealth
Who lives nearby - just up the street
I asked his nearest neighbors
About Wealth, and when I could meet
The neighbor on the left replied
That Wealth was not a friendly guy
And since this was the certain case
To help us meet - he wouldn’t try
And then the neighbor on the right
Said “Wealth’s a super friendly man”
“Easy to talk to - fun to see”
Could we meet? “We surely can”
Both neighbors quick to answer
But with such different views
It left me puzzled right at first
But soon I knew which view I’d use
So Wealth and I remain good friends
I’m happy that I know him well
Get to know this man called Wealth
Enjoy his home and with him dwell
Apr 18, 2020
Apr 18, 2020 at 10:23 AM UTC
Sleeping soundly on your memory now
I dream of uncollected worlds
Where young girls dance at summer weddings
And foolish men take their cars for spins and whirls
I've seen you less and less, in the headlights of happiness
My onetime escape
From you I'm free
Within the dance of newfound reflectiveness, I'm free indeed
Jan 12, 2020
Jan 12, 2020 at 10:14 PM UTC
As I become the thing always feared
See my life ending too fast
Honest consequences catching up
Chance after ruined chance
Wasted mistakes consuming me
Fall to my lowest point
Scrambling to hold together
It's no secret I'm a ******
Never following through my decisions
Promising to be a greater person
Screaming at reflection
Cold to touch
Colder to feel
Thawing much too late
But for certain
Softly inviting something like love
The wanting in my eyes
Silently hoping affection
One small kiss
My biggest wish
Must be dreaming
No one will ever want this
Dec 26, 2019
Dec 26, 2019 at 5:08 AM UTC
Rich and dark, like apple cider on an October street corner
I didn’t know you, dulcet and sweet
Until the full weight of your intoxicating world washed over me
Aug 6, 2019
Aug 6, 2019 at 8:24 AM UTC
I am humble
when I’m aware
that I don’t know anything for certain;
that all I am aware of
are philosophical-questions
with uncertain changing answers.
Jul 30, 2019
Jul 30, 2019 at 5:06 AM UTC
Bear’s certain
it’s a bear
alone with salmon
it’s a bear
on the mountain
it’s a bear
up a canyon
it’s a bear
eating berries
it’s a bear
sedated, carried
it’s a bear
answer, query
it’s a bear
clown or faery
it’s a bear
May 5, 2019
May 5, 2019 at 9:14 AM UTC
<>
for the early morning teach
<>
she's young, beautiful and thinks her life is cursed,
in the past, subject of some of my poems, her health to nurse,
yet, as is normative, you fall into & out of a well of touch,
until you accidentally once again path cross,
she provides a precision mathematical status update
"i'm fairly certain things are like at least 38% worse."
it is 1:38AM for you,
the not unnoticed ironic minute and hour
when the night ether has prematurely worn off,
rising time close but not nearly close enough,
a dark dose of a sleeping nurse's aide seems inappropriate,
and TV reruns seem like an insult to your brain
instead you turn on some belle string musique,
a Grande Messe des Morts,
a chorus,
singing a high mass for the dead,
while opening all your various email luggage and baggage,
smiling as you read a poetess's message of
laughter behind tears
"i'm fairly certain things are like at least 38% worse."
and Mississippi ******
your uncontrollable mixed drink of her emotional
Grenada grenade cocktail,
flavored with musique, paintings, and words and a nearby beloved's
gentling sleep sounds,
has you writing your own protest poem,
your very own,
oy vey, grande messe,
about lives that were supposed to be
pictures of perfect artistry
and for but a word or two,
instead, a painting of a life that got hung upside down,
and indeed,
leaving a grand mess and no one to help clean up
alternatively weeping, laughing as you are thinking,
smiling recall
Laurel and Hardy's summary definition
of living a life's of ill begotten, misventured adventures:
"Well, here's another nice mess you've gotten me into !"
but 38% worse?
not an even-steven rounded up 40%,
should I write you only 38% of a poem, teach?
or more accurately, more mathematically,
138% of what was writ before?
and you recall your older, prior words
about the love hate affair between
you poet,
and the beauty of written brevity
(her style)
and you give her this then,
this rambling, scrambled, attention paid notification,
word attentiveness, a summary of your readings
of her cheddar sharp and honey mustard sweet retorts of
pained poetry,
it is insufficiently but perfectly sufficient,
a summarizing phrase that opens
and yet
briefly encapsulates all that
you are feeling for her
"thinking of you"
or the 38% larger version thereof -
***"Well, here's another 38% more
nice poetic mess
you've gotten me into!"***
Jul 20, 2016
Jul 20, 2016 at 5:01 PM UTC
why I love certain men
it’s a raining and writing Saturday,
a washout for the beach visitors who chose their
calendar lottery tickets poorly
but hurrah and huzzah for the poet
in the no-sun-today-room with
steam collecting on his face from his 20 oz. Canadian mug,
the rest of him cozied neath a
wooly mohair knitted and tasseled blanket,
from a now naked and shivering alpaca goat in Turkey or Tibet
perhaps we’ll make a tiny dent
in the 1319 poems,
in the ‘sorta started to do’ list
****
new one sneaks in demanding immediate satisfaction
and threatening my mind’s incarceration unless,
serviced and unleashed as the Frenchies say
Frites, immédiatement!: (french fries, now!)
I love most men; certain men more than others,
not because they are soft to the touch,
look great in thigh highs, can fix a backhoe,
lay hands on animals, just as they do upon their grandchildren,
or write better poetry than me,
because
they make me weep from zealous delight at
their capricious unprecedented constancy of their
honorable actions
they are soft to the core, which is itself
wrapped in a leather soldered steel,
which defines them by their self-questing constant,
asking themselves preface and postface,
doing it well, in between,
what is the honorable thing?
this honor idea of which writ previous
doesn’t dissolve - indeed grows crescendo stronger,
like the miracle of the Yom Kippurs rams horn
crying out to heavens at the concluding end
on the holiest judgement day,
a shofar miracle for it inhumanly grows ever louder,
ceasing only when nightfall marks a new day begun,
reminding both sinners and saviour each,
to inquire of their colluding selves on this forgiveness-giving day,
what is the honorable thing?
some are borrowers and some lenders,
of anything, the substance or the whom matters not,
but the bonding bonfire from which the deal is done,
is of a uncharted organic chemical matter unrecognized
but millennium ancient
here I stop
the call to breakfast must be obeyed,
for it’s with lovely made, menu man-poet requested,
this is too an honorable thing to do,
and the 1319 half blood~half writs poking my eyes,
can be faced with new courage afterwards
on a perfect raining and writing Summer Saturday
for the next one hopefully and woefully
may not come till the September (Rosh Hashanah/Jewish New Year) when acorns fall
certain men will greet that fall Sabbath/ New Years Day,
when Atonement begins, a ten day process to the final conclusion,
by asking of everything living and of every act human performed,
for the forgiveness requested inherent in the absolute bar setting of
what is the honorable thing?
which by the by,
is why I love certain women too...
and all who are honorable
will read this honorific and remain
clueless as to whom it is addressed...
oh god, I do so love that best!
what could signal honor even more...
Jun 23, 2018
Jun 23, 2018 at 12:08 PM UTC
If the world found
a way to let us meet,
on a holy ground, in an event with seats and
intentionally our eyes meet,
I won't see you as
the person I once loved nor the person I still want to have
for you're the person I'll always love
but I didn't need to have.
If the world granted us
a chance to encounter each other's lives,
inside a ride to a reception hall and
happily shakes each other's hands,
I won't regret the day we met nor the day you left;
I'd thank you for leaving me
to give me a chance to meet him.
If the world made us happen,
we'll be standing under ringing bells
but it is impossible;
so as I gaze at the sky,
I won't wish for a chance to be with you
nor a memory without a single trace of you.
I'd wish happiness for the both of us
regardless if we could've happened.
And now I'm telling you this:
Those ‘what if’s once killed me
But I’m glad it led us here.
Oct 20, 2018
Oct 20, 2018 at 4:40 AM UTC
Blood drops pitter patter drop/ Pool underneath red/ Surely a sign you are dead
Oct 4, 2018
Oct 4, 2018 at 5:15 PM UTC
Yours is the kind of love I once wished
The feeling that favored not just what I can give
but who I am - light and dark.
For years, it didn't change.
Instead, it grew stronger with every spark.
It's ever beautiful, peaceful and mild.
It's what I can call mine.
It's what I can call ours.
We may be apart but ours is the feeling
I'm quite certain as I am sure.
For you embedded my heart with words
that bring warmth like the sun's rays,
Avec vous, toujours
With you, always.
Oct 3, 2018
Oct 3, 2018 at 11:19 AM UTC
Meeting you
was the prologue
of a complicated story
Memories with you
were the chapters that developed
the "love" felt all throughout the story
Finding out
that you'd rather have my best friend than me
was the unexpected plot twist
Breaking up with you
was the epilogue of our story
that turned bittersweet.
You asking for a second chance
was an invitation
for a sequel
But my dear, I'd say no to that
For I cannot erase the period I placed
At the end of our story.
Sep 9, 2018
Sep 9, 2018 at 9:27 AM UTC
You lead my ears to water
Thirsty once forever be
For it is May and I intend
To make this music mine to me
Forever yours
So is my artist
To will his will
Will ever be
For this exists
In both our minds
In memories mixed
With solidarity
May 4, 2018
May 4, 2018 at 5:25 PM UTC
Jesus looks down on me
A tidal wave of hope
Crushed and smashed against the rocks
It drowns with everything else
Somehow I make it to the nearest town
Looking for shelter
I stumble upon familiar roads
See familiar faces
Faces that may haunt me forever
I climb up a lighthouse
It should be the key out of here
It should show me all my future
It should have helped me
Instead I only see the somber clouds
And mystic fog settle in
I can’t help but watch the water pull in and out again
Drifting back and forth
Moon playing tug-of-war
I can’t stand looking at the familiar view
The same thing over and over
So I must ask myself these questions again:
Do you know who you are?
Do you know where you are?
Do you know what has happened to you?
Jesus send me another wave
This time of peaceful realization
Don’t send me away
Apr 23, 2018
Apr 23, 2018 at 2:36 AM UTC
Everything
i was fond of him
Never existed in him,
Instead
Everything I love about you
Is all that I kept seeking in him
While , he was just a
m
i
r
a
g
e ;
And here you're !
A certain
t
r
u
t
h
Of mine ..
©poojakaundal
apr212018
Apr 21, 2018
Apr 21, 2018 at 2:59 AM UTC
By the grave of your every love,
I have cried for nights.
For the love they took to their graves
and the life you have lost.
This life that demands me to suffer without hope.
This ocean that I never thought my feet would touch.
The night seem so lonely,
not having someone to
look for me
when I have lost my way
inside the wreck of your life.
Trying to heal the wounds that
you never gave me the right to touch.
The gravestone cries with me.
Like this gravestone,
I mark the life
of the love you lost.
There are certain deaths
that must be lived.
Apr 5, 2018
Apr 5, 2018 at 3:01 AM UTC