#draught
Genesis
****** and his cities,
Peleg the earthquake,
cities of crafts and exchange
waste disposal, chaos control
ordinal first to last sequence
father, physical strong, less curious
mother, fragile smaller, more observant.
Plural spiritual entities, Elohim, watchers,
applications of reason, reporting events.
Balance demonstrated with spinning
and flipping throwing things,
fitting thing piece to piece cunning spun
framing weaving
loose and taut, twanging
whistle, whine howl yells bells song
Eventual progress, time out of mind, slow
and steady,
patient, put down, put up, leaning, pushing
pulling, windwise rushing in, to fill the empty
Mind, imageless, no holds, no solidity,
all is spirit, no atoms even, perhaps, not even,
quarkish pairs of ups or downs that spin
on points in ever after solid state called
Heaven, the firmamental place where none was.
Higg's Field.
Unknown known matter and energy, we know.
We know something power enough to seem matter,
exists,
beyond our individuated mind's grasp.
Okeh.
Spread so as we may imagine, when itself began
with the initial edges, or edge, it would be, inside
any bubble-edge is inside,
they say outside is unimaginable
flat out planed point of anything
pounded thin as any bubble wall,
-blood-brain boundary, shocking discovery
yes, as with point spreads stretched to firm
mental plotted points of possible otherness,
ways one may be seen divided
duty-wise. Needful news.
Drink water from your own cistern,
save rain water for washing hair,
keep the spider in the spout,
to catch most matter washed
from the roof over our minds vidroning view
Googlized minds, in Disneyified Meta Cognosis,
we arrived at our destination,
and they have clouds of cotton candy.
- must be all vain, all is vanity, that's fair.
- Ecclesiastes, my old prod-rod-prick-point
pain on my backside,
such as Moses saw of Him whose name is as the Dao,
the name that may be said is not Ha Shem,
the side that may be seen is not His, you see, the hole,
not the whole,
and once that is filtered through, a certainly tangled web,
where in it seems,
Jews, in cultural roles granted, now, bat und bar mitzvah,
no veiled ****** similarities to the Handmaid's Tale.
No weeping over spilt milk,
never cry wolf.
Never speak of the devil, for … what speak we in,
when worshipping and praising and praying is supplicant
pose, supposed to induce holy awareness of mathematical me.
What might be the odds, set
taking all bets,
in spirit and in truth, as held in the wedom we acknowledge,
you and me, we agree, we become maker of this bubbling state,
we boil the cauldron, wear the caul of the first born-
we take the fat from the caul of the liver, and offer the smell,
to the unspeakably named reality we make believers build
in times of plenty, we make beautiful things together,
we call dreams retellings, but the tellings flow from deeper wells.
We are more ant-ish than sheepish,
we are more horse-ish than wolfish, in the wild.
We are more dog-ish than cat-ish, in civilized spaces.
Nurture native natal ground boundary of any wedom,
go beyond,
in quest of all we failed to grasp, the wind we fit to words,
and hold the gathered sheaves , in fists,
this is it,
why one how come to become. We be. Alwise, always willing
to envision further than we think men by right may see,
the tree the fruit was forbidden from,
bade the birds imbibe, and the elephants and monkey's too,
certainly, imagine, the plan got out of hand, it was
mandatory
in the garden walled off speck of life,
pre concepts weyeken called cells.
E= okay, rebalance all you respond with
who says what C equals, at my scale, in a mind,
in or out of the body, I can not say, significantly
different from saying, I can't say,
see, set, mindtimespace, spacetimemind, point. A.
Mar 5, 2023
Mar 5, 2023 at 3:03 PM UTC
How to explain the pain
Of feeling nothing
To a world made of broken hearts and bones?
How to justify
a shivering body
To a world that is hell and is burning?
How can one call for help
For one's drowning
To a world brought to its knees by draught?
I can only bow my head at their suffering
And dare to say that
Though my heart and bones are intact
I am broken as a whole
I can only bow my head at their suffering
And meekly mutter with a moist mouth
That though their tongues are dry and skin is cracking
Cold too is a thirst for warmth
I can only bow my head at their suffering
And whisper that as I drown
Surrounded by clear icy water
My lungs burn like the tallest fire.
Aug 19, 2018
Aug 19, 2018 at 5:50 AM UTC
though strictly Fermi, and oh...(en Rico) plus sun
dre other parvenues, a rapture
surges thru me,
when audibly communicating, enunciating,
and speaking English words
as if hi ken run
a marathon, or zip to the moon,
(take as cheesy tong in cheek)
from this pun
gent, who relishes reading for my eyes and ears
asper myself, which purported nun
sense ink reese sees learn'n
den earn an award,
especially wash'n black board
den breathing intelligent dust
from eraser head could awk cord,
I utter Hieronymus Bosch, bing enamored,
and aye actually confess
tubby a model United Nations chimp
pan zee, and/or other
type of survey monkey hook can huff ford
Old Rotten Gotham horde
sliding down into the behavioral sink...
exclaiming "oh me jack lord"
and getting rescued then getting less on,
sans get'n taut how (muss elf George Eliot)
tubby comb moored
flossed, milled, and taut
tubby trained for Operation Ready Date
by a coop pull oof oot standing chap,
named Adam West, who poured
salty epithets (reminding me, as they roared
that life iz brutal, short and nasty),
part tickly ne'r the end
wharf hew scored
and majority got de toured
until emotionally, physically,
and spiritually enlightened
By Rabindranath Tagore and Burt Ward.
Mar 16, 2018
Mar 16, 2018 at 2:11 AM UTC
For 21 days I saw changes wrought
by the freedom of 22 years
Secrets of razor wire straight and taut
Speak of those who continue to fear
I saw nature’s beauty in land and face
As black heel continues to rise
Via school, ambition they prep for the race
Even as secretly despised
What’s changed in Soweto? I did not live
But photos and newsreels survive
Pictures of shanties bulldozed to give
Whites room to extend their hives
Now malls; monuments to white retail
Built on Mandiba’s words
Polished chrome and marble hail
“Happy” workers in a black-faced world
Monuments ringed with vendors tribal
Carved goods for sale and cheap
The rands they make do not rival
What multi-nationals’ continue to reap
Happiness is shallow until sundown
When the curtain of decorum lifts
Showing reality’s new shanty-town
Where space and plumbing are gifts
I wonder if He would be okay
Seeing his people so used
As pawns for labor with little say
As black is seldom excused
The young know the time is now
As old hatred’s in shallow graves
To be unearthed by book and plow
Keeping dreams from stunting and fade
Oct 12, 2016
Oct 12, 2016 at 8:48 AM UTC
Baby cries for food
draught ruined the rice crop
dry land and no monsoon
Sep 6, 2016
Sep 6, 2016 at 8:27 AM UTC
The sun spits angry flares
when even stones turn to ashes
I stay inside and do not dare.
Mother earth soaks up every drop
dries up the river and tree's bark
will the next rain help growing crops
Of things I did not worry before
have evolved now, taken ugly shapes
and now I face problems turned sore
Its for water we run around these days
store for adversity, prepare for the worst
this summer will change us in so many ways.
Apr 15, 2016
Apr 15, 2016 at 8:00 AM UTC
The scavenger waits
End of a life
So as to feast
On a dead child’s meat
If at all the silly bird knew
It was just a sheet of skin
Wrapped on a cage of bones
For the meat was already devoured
In his struggle to survive.
© Dr. PRERNA SINGLA, 14 Nov. 2015. All Rights Reserved.
Feb 15, 2016
Feb 15, 2016 at 7:13 AM UTC
You have been cruel to your fellow race,
you smeared blood all over your land,
and here you are now,
your soils hunger and thirst for green pastures,
and there are no where to be found.
Oh poor South Africa,
could you be another Eygpt
with God's plegues reigning all over you?
You showed no harmony,
you desired no peace,
you cared less about unity,
you left your own race to die,
with those large stones,
those weapons,
the sticks and the whips.
That fire that burnt the people alive,
their tears fell to the ground
and they have dried up your land,
it is no shortage of water that you face,
but with unquestionable daughts,
you are facing terrible draughts.
Now that your fellow citizens fight against one another,
the blood is being shed amongst themselves,
and those stones now crush their own skulls,
it is nolonger faces without races that cry,
but your own race nolonger knows how to share.
this is all because you do not have
enough water to secure them anymore.
Their needs can not be reached
not even by the noble group that monitors from their royal seats.
Oh poor South Africa cry for mecry!
For your soils are running solid,
they shall nolonger be able to bear food.
The Lord covers your land with dark clouds,
yet there is never a seed of rain that falls and touch your platue.
Oh poor South Africa cry for mercy!
for your people are dying.
And yet you sit still in silence.
Nov 13, 2015
Nov 13, 2015 at 2:30 PM UTC