#milton
Knocked down light poles,
Stuck-standing inside the road-crack
Busted pipes, roofless shelters, shapeless vehicles,
Dead air in every breath you take
Milton, Ian, Floyd, Kirk, Audrey, Bob
There’s a reason you are my exes!!
Oct 12, 2024
Oct 12, 2024 at 12:13 AM UTC
Milton! your youthful strife with fickle time,
Expressed with reason and an ancient rhyme,
Is something I endure at twenty-three,
Wishing much more than what I'm meant to be.
Your time was different, when art had class,
When Thought had its respect among the mass.
I know that life is short but fine, when skilled
To see past the dread of living, and ill-willed.
I know that faith is quick to end, as death
Is quick to come – just only with one breath.
And though I'm ignorant of many ways,
I am much wise, because I know my place.
This quantity of wisdom was not a lot
For you, but much for me – yes – this aware Thought.
May 1, 2022
May 1, 2022 at 11:26 AM UTC
Torn posters
Broken cigarettes
I've been wanted by the police
Chased out of my room
Of torn posters
And broken cigarettes
The life of bounty head is a cruel one
Salinger has nothing on me
I'd smoke if I were playing around rye
Catching people just like the cops beat around the bush
Knocking on your doors telling you have been framed
For a poor and direct assumption
Apr 22, 2019
Apr 22, 2019 at 3:51 PM UTC
Hint: see his sonnet on his second wife Catherine, specifically the line--"...vested all in white--"
(sonnet #MMMMMMMDCCXVII)
Snow. Was last summer traipsing through a tale
Of mirey puddles? Ah. Tis wet fr'intents,
But with frore air presiding all's white hence
Or icy, like the curving claws that hail
From silent eaves, no scimiter--in pale
Excuse for fancied heights--but fringing thence
The void twixt roof and far below, a sense
Perchance of grasping in their scope's detail.
I look out half surprised all's buried fer
The umpteenth time, as flakes cavort now through
Unnumbered hours likeas soft mists in tour,
Sip that espresso foamed milk crowns anew
In thoughtful silence, not unlike that pure
Calm listning as snow falls in silence too.
17Feb19a
Mar 9, 2019
Mar 9, 2019 at 9:36 PM UTC
I'm ****** off with Robert Frost
And the guy who wrote Paradise Lost.
I ain't happy with Aristotle,
And especially John, the weird Apostle.
Don't mention, please, Shelley or Keats,
Blake, Byron or Yeats;
Each and every one you see,
(if you're ready for some truth)
Took their themes from me.
Don't look aghast,
Don't tsk and titter,
Their thievery's left me
Mean and bitter.
Just because they said it first,
Doesn't mean I find it just.
It doesn't give them ownership
Of my themes and authorship.
I write of Roads, Good and Evil,
God and Satan, love and leaving.
I know I'm internally bleating,
But I can't abide this metric beating.
Although they're merely dust and bones,
They don't have the right to own
All the great lines I have sown:
The best laid plans of mice and men.
(I said that before Robbie Burns).
Let me make this poeticaly clear;
***If I was there, or he were here,
I'd sue the *** of Will Shakespeare***.
May 11, 2018
May 11, 2018 at 9:31 AM UTC
where shall one begin with an unknown task
as there's not a manual of instruction
to follow in the exact construction
yet one cannot be phased by its ask
ad-libbing may get knitted on the bask
so why allow any type of obstruction
it'll mean one is certain for destruction
on-ward till there's a near finished cask
Milton supplied the writing assignment
hence one took a huge risk attempting it
his format came without apt document
the sonnet improvised every bit
a plan not seen anywhere to complement
the novice didst garner abundant wit
Apr 2, 2018
Apr 2, 2018 at 6:32 AM UTC
My RAIN DROP
AS FAR FROM MY HEART
I SEARCH FOR YOU
IN THE DEPTHS OF YOUR LOVE
I WAIT FOR YOU
YOU ADDED A DROP INTO MY HANDS AND ITS HARVEST MY HEART
THE MORE, I SEARCH FOR YOU
THE MORE, YOU SWING INTO MY HEART;OUT OF CONTROL
AM WITHOUT THIRSTY
AND AM WITHOUT RANGE
RANGE IN TIME BUT YOUR RAIN ALWAYS REACH MY CLAIMS
I SET OUT FOR YOUR LOVE
ONLY TO FIND YOUR LOVE , GROWING INSIDE MY HEART AS A BRIDGE ACROSS MY WALLS
WHAT MANNER OF CREATURE ,ARE YOU
THE SOUND OF A THOUSANDS LAUGHTER "IN MY HEART"
AM NOT SHY OF YOUR TERROR IN THE LAND
AS FOR ME , YOUR UNSTABLE SOUNDS CALL FOR US TO LOVE MORE AND MORE
EVEN, WHEN YOU STOP FALLING, YOUR RAIN BROUGHTOUT BRIGHT LIGHT INTO MY EYE'S
THE LITTLE SOUNDS AS YOU FADE AWAY FROM RANGE IS LIKE A RIVER FLOWS WITHIN ME
YOUR LOVE AS WASH ME CLEAN AND YOUR TERROR AS FOUND ME TERSE
YOUR LOVE IS MY RAINDROP.
FB:Timon Timonlibrarynigeria.
Em@il:[email protected]
☎:+2348160963957
Dec 27, 2017
Dec 27, 2017 at 10:44 PM UTC
Firm collar
White as snow
Crisp and with an edge like steel
Cutting, not cold
Unblemished is he?
No
Considered rough,
Perhaps
Although in a certain way, he walks
Straight past his friends and his foes
Not aimlessly though
For where poise meets focus
There is also dignity
And a calming aura to be found
Amidst the calamity
With a hint of conflict
Though he speaks
His words are bound
To fairness and justice
To the law and to love
And though he spoke once
Not arrogantly
This is the sound of a constant man
Who is capable of change, and yet, is found
In a pattern which drowns out the breeze
Like the whippoorwill that’s lost its tree
By this you'll know, that you've seen
And crossed the path of a pensive man
Intent on this, to understand
Her
Him
And all around
May 4, 2017
May 4, 2017 at 12:33 PM UTC
Though Adam & Eve were so cute
With God they had a dispute
Thrown out of the garden
Without any pardon
And all because of some fruit
Feb 4, 2016
Feb 4, 2016 at 1:54 PM UTC
‘TERENCE, this is stupid stuff:
You eat your victuals fast enough;
There can’t be much amiss, ’tis clear,
To see the rate you drink your beer.
But oh, good Lord, the verse you make,
It gives a chap the belly-ache.
The cow, the old cow, she is dead;
It sleeps well, the horned head:
We poor lads, ’tis our turn now
To hear such tunes as killed the cow.
Pretty friendship ’tis to rhyme
Your friends to death before their time
Moping melancholy mad:
Come, pipe a tune to dance to, lad.’
Why, if ’tis dancing you would be,
There’s brisker pipes than poetry.
Say, for what were hop-yards meant,
Or why was Burton built on Trent?
Oh many a peer of England brews
Livelier liquor than the Muse,
And malt does more than Milton can
To justify God’s ways to man.
Ale, man, ale’s the stuff to drink
For fellows whom it hurts to think:
Look into the pewter ***
To see the world as the world’s not.
And faith, ’tis pleasant till ’tis past:
The mischief is that ’twill not last.
Oh I have been to Ludlow fair
And left my necktie God knows where,
And carried half way home, or near,
Pints and quarts of Ludlow beer:
Then the world seemed none so bad,
And I myself a sterling lad;
And down in lovely muck I’ve lain,
Happy till I woke again.
Then I saw the morning sky:
Heigho, the tale was all a lie;
The world, it was the old world yet,
I was I, my things were wet,
And nothing now remained to do
But begin the game anew.
Sep 21, 2015
Sep 21, 2015 at 5:30 PM UTC
After the funeral, I was sent to heaven.
St. Peter stood at the gates.
“Welcome”, he said, “your sins are forgiven”,
“Go to the Chamber; Jesus waits”.
Jesus summoned me with boisterous mirth,
“How was your short time on Earth?”
“Fairly decent”, said I with a smile,
“Every moment was worthwhile.”
“Starting from the time of my birth,
I did plenty of things on Earth,
I studied hard, acquired a degree,
Got a job and made pots of money.”
Jesus shot me an unhappy stare,
And ordered me to take a chair,
Carefully he opened a slim file,
and scrutinized it for a while.
"You were given the ability to write,
To rhyme, to compose and recite,
You could have been a famous bard,
Like Shelly, Milton & Arthur Ward.
In the quest to earn bread & butter,
You poured your talent down the gutter.
A talented, young Indian Author,
preferred to undergo corporate slaughter.
Should I have written it on stone?
Man doesn't survive on bread alone?
Gifted with wit, spirit and foresight,
You were sent on Earth to write"
Shocked & aghast, I fell to my knees,
"Give me a chance, I beg you please"
"No", he said and refused to relent,
"You have an eternity to regret & repent".
Jun 23, 2014
Jun 23, 2014 at 7:24 AM UTC