#national
Today we shall have a new prime minister
and I think the change will be good
the current one has become a little sinister
not really doing the job as it should.
We can all debate it as much as we like
but the majority of the people will decide
the voice of conscience in their psyche
shall determine who'll then next preside.
For some it'll be quite a welcomed relief
to see the long-awaited change take place
and seem like an outcome of their belief
a manifestation due to the power of Grace.
It's sometimes hard to know who will win
and if that person who does is the best
with all the political parties wearing thin
their elected leader shall be put to the test.
The democratic process of electing a government
to manage and control the affairs of a country
should be one that fosters such an establishment
for the benefit of all the people however sundry.
_________________________
Apr 5
Apr 5, 2026 at 11:56 AM UTC
A peacock has a long, feathered bushtail.
Blue, violet, green, and tail look like a vail.
Fully opened, they look like eyes watching
It looks beautiful while dancing.
By showing its every detail
National bird of India, says its tale
Found in forests and grasslands, it curtails
The big birds are so amazing.
Peacock's Beauty
Feathers knitted and worn as wale
In India, peacocks are banned for sale.
Are omnivorous in consuming
Symbols of beauty, wealth are its citing
In the sky, in my dreams, they sail.
Peacock's Beauty
Aug 1, 2024
Aug 1, 2024 at 3:40 AM UTC
Verse 1:
When Trump got in the white house-he was just a town mouse-promised a devotion to
Help people out, then why the people have'to start protests on and on.
Trumpy got an angry plan to fulfill-the thing to do-with all the hater walls to build-no matter what "I'm not listening to you..."
Chorus A:
But in another life, you and I would hate, ruin it for the immigrants-send all of em' away,
In another life, we'd take over the world, rule it with an iron fist our flag of doom unfurled,
Flag of doom unfurled...
Chorus B: But in another life, you and I would hate, hell with all the peoples dreams-be us against the gays.
In another life, we'd take over the world, rule it with an iron fist our flag of doom unfurled,
Flag of doom unfurled...
Verse 2:
A group of people who feared sometimes Trump might lose, couldn't put the Trust in voters right to choose, if anything should happen poor Trump'will be singin' the blues. (boohoo)
Then the demonstraters started cursing his ways, Trumpy was trying to educate-that anyway
For "so-called safety" had to keep certain travelers away.
Verse 3:
So Trumpy noticed some football stars-at the national anthem-didn't have hand on their heart, and he said "these guys have got to go...(WOAH)
Then later when that didn't work out, Trump decided to make a statement-without a doubt,
It's fine what they think (a players devotion wouldn't be part of the show...)
Bridge:
Trumpy didn't fix the economy-NO
Trumpy wouldn't free us from strict conformity-NO
Trumpy can't get away with anything-NO
But then I PAY THE PRICE...
Aug 21, 2022
Aug 21, 2022 at 1:06 PM UTC
Open and Shut
Open and Shut
Shut
Binary yesterday
Re-set
Today
The network is pregnant again
Open and Shut
Open and Shut
Open
Oct 7, 2021
Oct 7, 2021 at 2:49 AM UTC
And the knowledge of the hedgerow plant, I found embedded in leaf veins ... like in mine, etched along blue lines of a notebook. In the ripples on the remnants of water that pooled, before the mudflats claimed them are the striations of ol'butot near Naivasha. His stories tell of caves, a gleaming obsidian of a pre historic introspection. Do forty day fasts suffice to exorcise the springs of sulphur or the forced baptism of a flash flood washing six souls to Hades ? The sun glinted at me through a narrowness of fate, a gorge of interminable seconds and I marvelled at the strata of time in a warp, for it blurted out a moan.
Love spoke in nuanced layers of molten flow that crawled to stillness. Can I not say that stone speaks? A couple of hundred years back in time, self titled discoverers had seen land that had not been unseen by the thousands who lived for thousands until then. So yes, the strata spoke to me, like the striations in the leaves and the lines that were everywhere telling stories of interminable seconds. Time grooves like a death valley in an engraving, etched like a memory of that which has never been, ripples on sand, circles on water,
Apr 12, 2021
Apr 12, 2021 at 10:49 AM UTC
We were laying in bed
and I was drowning in your gaze.
You wrapped your arms around
me and slowly whispered in my ear
that I was a national treasure to you.
You told me my essence,
my power, and my presence
overwhelmed you and that
I was your Niagara Falls.
Oct 26, 2020
Oct 26, 2020 at 10:06 AM UTC
here
everything seems so natural
so straightforward
as if there were no oppression
bending or twisting
in this world
innocent hands
all joyously stretching
to reach the sky
May 25, 2020
May 25, 2020 at 7:02 PM UTC
there are only two genders
trans is not real
are you a boy now?
i would be open to experiment, though
you need to have your brain checked
what are you?
unsolved.
i am unsolved.
an unsolved puzzle,
equation,
mystery,
rubik's cube,
mirage,
the horizon.
everything you can't figure out at first glance,
something you have to squint at to understand.
but i don't need solving,
i don't need understanding,
i don't need to keep explaining.
i am me,
i am unsolved,
and i am happy.
Apr 4, 2020
Apr 4, 2020 at 2:17 PM UTC
Assume the employee smiles as you
wait in line for a sanitized shopping cart.
Assume she has slight imperfections
in her front teeth as you do.
Tiny chips from hard candy mishaps
back in the early 2000s
that you choose to notice while
you examine your mouth in the mirror.
Assume that they're eyes are telling the truth--
they didn't wake up with a fever this morning,
and neither did the lady or her four kids behind you.
Assume by their relaxed body language
that we're all still safe from something we can't see.
Assume that since your own smile is naked,
somehow, you'll get out of this public place untouched.
It feels like you do. You hope, anyway.
Assume that the governor knows what's best when he says
"It is suggested that all citizens wear facemasks,
regardless if they're showing symptoms."
You put the peanut butter in the cupboard
and the paper plates on the counter.
You wash your hands for twenty seconds,
singing "Happy Birthday" twice, just like they said.
You touch your face because you assume you're clean.
Assuming your own risk, you pick up your phone and
in a rigid, robotic fashion, your search begins.
Assume you will see "out of stock" and "due to high demand,"
and assume that you will come up empty-handed, again.
You find her though,
a young girl who has made hundreds face masks to sell
on her online shop.
She asks you to select your pattern,
and as I scan my choices,
I imagine what would accompany my feverish face the best.
"Cats," I say to her through a series of clicks.
"Cats, and I think, I'll take the one with roses too."
Apr 3, 2020
Apr 3, 2020 at 6:24 PM UTC
i don't remember the name of your city anymore.
just that it's 4,483 miles away and i sent you my
sweater in the post four... five years ago.
for seven months we were each others' shoulder to lean on, had each others' arms to fall into,
eyes to get lost inside.
i still remember the way you'd hide your face in your hands every time i looked at you for a second too long
through the blurry webcam.
i still hear your giggle and the way you'd ask why i look at you like that, and the way i'd say it's because
i was in love with you.
the way you'd say 'i love you' and i'd say it back.
it's been years since i wrote about you.
the last time i did, i wondered if either of us fell off
the face of the earth, would we ever know?
and tonight, i write this with a smile,
a little bit of pain and regret,
and my mind going what if, what if, what if.
you showed me what love means even across continents,
even though we knew we'd never really
be able to hold each other,
even though we knew it would end.
distance.
it's what brought us together,
what set us apart,
and what finally broke our hearts.
Apr 3, 2020
Apr 3, 2020 at 12:59 PM UTC
you are electric blue,
charged up,
wreaking havoc like there's no tomorrow.
you are fiery red,
up in flames,
resisting change,
can't keep a straight face.
you are blood orange,
smiling through the pain,
a cheshire cat stare.
and you are sunset yellow,
soft and kind - the warm embrace of a lover.
you are a stroke of violet,
taking life as it comes,
slow, unwavering.
you are the pink of cheeks that blush,
a slow dance in the kitchen at midnight.
you are starry night black,
flawed and beautiful and eternal.
you are green swiveled into white,
serene, calm, still.
you are the full spectrum.
so do your dance and paint every empty canvas with your palette a different pattern every time -
this is why you are alive.
Apr 2, 2020
Apr 2, 2020 at 7:17 AM UTC
Six-feet between me and
forty-six vignettes of adventurous times.
The slick, shiny gloss used to put a sheen
on moments made for smiling.
Now, ancient beaches and haunting deserts,
where my footprints are planted,
are a dream I fight to remember
after the alarm sounds.
Aches for lost chances of overpriced
airport snacks
and shared glances with strangers
seem to slowly construct "fun's" obituary
on the bored corners of my mind.
But I wait, six-feet away,
to relive it all anyway.
Six-feet between me and some one-hour photos.
Six-feet between me and a graveyard of freedoms.
Apr 1, 2020
Apr 1, 2020 at 11:15 PM UTC
I was asked to create a holiday,
What about a pyjama day?
We would not get dressed at all,
Stay in bed, hide and stall,
Sit around in flannelette,
Stay in PJ's, don't get dressed,
In fact, don't wash or cook,
Do mental slumming with ****** books!
Oct 7, 2019
Oct 7, 2019 at 4:17 PM UTC
He's a boy who knows his body
and loves his body
and shares his body
with all the raw insides.
Humanity folded in lightweight-
sturdy bones and supple joints
that bend under heated gazes.
He's prone to say yes.
Whatever it means.
For me, I would taste
and savor each bite of the body
that buckles under warmth
and cut into the bones.
Then, after his yes, I would open
the rest of him.
Unfolding humanity,
mistakes and bewilderment,
the bitter, sour sinew of him-
the boy entirely mine.
Apr 3, 2019
Apr 3, 2019 at 4:17 PM UTC
The second I fell for you
gave me a glimpse
into a lifetime
Apr 3, 2019
Apr 3, 2019 at 2:50 AM UTC
To every poet
that turned misery to beauty
reality to fantasy
life into poetry
love into mystery
words into sorcery
To every poet whose
word on paper
is an invitation
to play with fire
Apr 2, 2019
Apr 2, 2019 at 4:01 AM UTC
The will o' the wisp is
displayed on the screen of
conventions. There are those
who pretend to decipher it;
by borrowing philosophical speculations from the great
thinkers, they formulate a
critical reading, justifying the
poverty of the lexicon.
They dare to do so.
On the other hand there is
Poetry, sat on a bench
in a park somewhere, on a
rock nearby the ocean, on
an old chair in a remote room
without any other furniture,
on the pillow made with papers
of a clochard,
on the cover of an unabridged
book nobody wants.
On the trembling hand of a
young lover who picks flowers
for her, that remain forever
between the pages of a diary.
Poetry is in the multiplicity of life,
in the thousands layers, either
red or grey, that compound the
variety of the existence. It can't
escape feelings, love, roses,
tears, grief, graveyards and
gardens. And, even when it turns
to be redundant with naivety, it
keeps the greatness of its end
which is nothing else but itself.
Oct 4, 2018
Oct 4, 2018 at 10:40 AM UTC
Three thousand children
That have no home.
Three thousand children
Are suffering alone.
Three thousand children
Whose parents suffer
Three thousand children
Missing their mothers.
How many children
Do we now have to feed
When the president said
They’re all bad seeds?
How did these babies
And these adolescent kids
Get accused of what they
Nor their parents ever did?
How can a country that
Brags it’s the land of the free
Perpetuate such a craven
Too Nazi-like villainy?
It squanders public funds
On bogus personal causes
Then hides it's thievery
Inside twisted legal clauses.
Three thousand babies
Locked up like animals
Inside pens like Dobermans;
And they are the criminals?
Their parents broke laws
That are just misdemeanors
So, they are beaten and then
They’re taken to the cleaners?
Meanwhile their children
Are kidnapped and hidden
By a Justice department that
Does the evil they are bidden.
That this kind of sick behavior
Exists in our country’s name
Is more than just our personal,
It’s also our national shame.
Jul 7, 2018
Jul 7, 2018 at 9:10 PM UTC
The chances are never perfect
I am disappointed
because the world has never stood up to
what is ideal
what is right is hidden behind the veil
Innocents are tested each time
and the fight goes on.
Bending the rule,
using people as tool
dead and alive
making every fool
and the normalcy
spreading this sickness
over what is going on
so wrong.
Moving on
getting over it
forgetting every little bit,
we stick to our lives
protecting us
what possibly how
we can also be duped
and save ourselves
from becoming the national news.
May 2, 2018
May 2, 2018 at 12:09 PM UTC
During element’ry school
Lunchtime was a drag
For the bologna sandwich
In my little brown lunch bag.
My favorite? The spice ham
I loved on grilled cheese.
Made bologna mediocre…
A cold cut for the breeze.
Now, turkey’s my favorite
Amongst the cold cuts.
It is healthy and tasteful—
No ifs, ands or buts.
Cold cuts, an old sidekick
Are convenient—take your pick.
(Revised 2/2018.)
Feb 7, 2018
Feb 7, 2018 at 8:37 AM UTC
You won't get a free car wash
no free dessert, or pie
not a movie pass
or glasses, for your eyes
Don't look for that free meal
or a cookie, for your name
a deal, that's a steal
or any other fame
But I have too say
HP's got your back
today, is Melissa day
so here's an ounce
of crack
Nov 18, 2017
Nov 18, 2017 at 5:33 PM UTC