#potter
I am the Master, whom you must learn to follow and obey.
Whatever your resolve, I will inevitably have my way.
The other opposed wills? For me they are as mere child's-play
You cannot conceivably resist, so don't bother trying.
Surely a life of submission is so much better than horribly dying.
Swear your obeisance to me now, and you'd better not try lying.
For I am your only Lord, worthy as none before ever was,
As your only true allegiance, I am the one whom guides your cause.
And my punishments are severe and swift, this Lord has teeth and claws.
So bow down before me, and make your sincere and binding vow.
Pledge to your true Master, lest my terrible wrath be brutally aroused.
For I know neither mercy or forgiveness, and so never test my tolerance
Just grant me your loyalty, your fealty, and eternal undying allegiance.
.
May 24, 2025
May 24, 2025 at 2:37 AM UTC
Mold me
Like clay that can be recycled,
Then formed into something new.
This clay, like a rebirth, now loved,
This new reinvention shows the new you.
Like in the potter’s hands, he molds a beautiful shape,
One that once was just a lump of clay.
The potter’s hands can make this art anew, escape—
Like helping shape someone’s life one day.
We are like clay, being worked and formed.
This process is like the improvement of oneself.
Unlike the piece that once was unformed,
Now becomes something beautiful to display on a shelf.
Feb 13, 2025
Feb 13, 2025 at 9:14 PM UTC
Hair got disheveled,
Harry just went bald,
But scored anyway.
Feb 11, 2025
Feb 11, 2025 at 3:32 AM UTC
On December 23, 2023,
I was pursuing my job,
As a Probationary Officer,
At the State Bank of India.
My colleagues and parents gathered,
It was very nice; what should I say?
For a vegetarian's delight showered,
They had gathered together that day.
In Panchkula, it was the F.T.P.—2, or
Foundational Training Program 2,
All the probationers were there,
Where, in SBILD, Panchkula.
Celebrated my birthday a bit late,
For I reached there on a later day,
Not that my arrival was delayed,
Que sera sera, just systemic delay.
'Twas memorable,
Many colleagues.
We broke the ice,
I made no couple.
I reached the age of 33 years that day,
Like this time I'll complete 34 years,
But I miss being a child, or a kid,
Those birthdays were special.
On my 33rd birth anniversary,
I felt more than a year younger.
Finally a successful professional,
And obviously an eligible bachelor.
Still unmarried, now as a choice,
I don't find a compatible voice,
Those judge me by my past,
My successes matter not.
Men Going Their Own Way,
MGTOW seems a good idea,
The only viable option for me,
Isn't that the only one for me?
All I have with me,
Are just memories,
Some are besotten,
Others a' forgotten.
They consider me depressed,
Maybe I'm just depressed,
But I lack any real friend,
Lacking any inspiration.
I may have achieved success,
Academic and professional,
Like Granger & McGonagall,
Scripted through dedication.
Coming out of the shadows,
Like the full moon out there,
My parents be proud of me,
Getting married isn't crucial.
Nov 4, 2024
Nov 4, 2024 at 11:52 AM UTC
Golden leaves are bright
I love the hue of the sky
Fall brings me so much joy
Even I enjoy autumn nights
My favorite movie's playing
My dog is by my feet
I'm surrounded in a popcorn blanket
and can laugh genuinely
Sometimes I wish I could share this
But for the first time in a while
I feel happy alone with my dog
Drinking hot chocolate with the window open
Oct 3, 2023
Oct 3, 2023 at 8:04 AM UTC
I was no Harry Potter
Didn't have that much goodness in me
But maybe I was a Draco Malfoy
Trying to figure which road to take
Light or dark?
But somewhere along the journey
I scattered 8 pieces of my soul
like Voldemort
Apr 29, 2022
Apr 29, 2022 at 4:24 PM UTC
Magi always bring Magic, among other
things, Frankincense was given me to give,
some kids bring tobacco.
Sunday, in our world with weeks
and months and years, in constant tension
pulling days from our lives, as gone-by,
but barely acting once in decades
of note, until
daily news of those who did
begins to pile up and tends to overflow
into to story, myth, and history, fit
with screwy prosody
and no practical scheme for rhyme…
all proving, now is after all that,
our access to mind wandering excursing,
excusing your innocence and ignoring
your being not so,
not so innocent, nor
feeble of mind, un exercised in godliness.
Yes, this
is the blessed assurance that we
were not the first to be
Perfectly Normal, Thank you.
------- and, further more
mind wandering is not a wartime pleasure.
Forward Tactical Operations Center,
some where
actual place, a point in time and space,
to you from me,
actively, choosing to rise to the occasion,
and bow to the overall situation,
life is attractive, not repulsive,
knowing is appealing to the best in me,
not the lazy
good for nothing I can be, with no help
from you or any
strange
power not mine to use,
con-sci, come see, came saw, and a we
arose to agree, this might
e
see, esse, e, this might be power, lying idle.
--- balance of power? Ha. Push
comes to shove, and wishes we could
make up a reason
to enjoy today as the final sure thing.
-- it was a darkthonic thought ought shall should
Substrates, strata below, this pliant surface,
gurgle, signaling nothing, save, more or less,
a belch, or a **** more like,
ew, {cell phone- in a search pattern}
we need not more of that,
what stink think ye we ought celebrate,
buffoon?
Suppose we all know the story behind
or under as we may,
surmise, compromising prized right ness
given up over down,
stand up, fall down, prop up hold down
proper propping
propagate a reason, fit to this season
- autumn, ends the year, winter
- starts next
now
all this de novo knowing, for the price of attention
you may know, not freely,
known, but freely taken as known before, by others
of our kind,
-- I am distracted by a blue jay, on the rock
-- behind the thinker comes
the thought, dragging it's feet, to make clouds of dust,
because,
the dust is there, and does this flying at my desire
to see once, and again, the effect of
me at six, mind wandering on a dry and dusty trail,
-- realizing
confabulatory stories are in fact
"perfectly normal, thank you. A basket of eggs, or a basket
of
air, empty air, no signal, no closing inverted commas.
Have we lost the magic?
---
No listen, ah, and smell,
the bacon, ah, forbidden meat,
smells so good, does it not, smell so good?
It might not **** you, son, but hell of a price
you pay for taking a bite, of some thing
due to it smelling,
so good.
--------- setting, as the propagated
translation of tradition to kab-allah, I say
a wish in time to pre
vent any explosive out burst of gut dispute,
per and may haps rise around me, big
am, we, m'fam… wakes in me a joy,
quite normal,
joy of a grandfather, finishing the faith
a character has developed,
while making, wei true, making wei wu
wu wu of the ever skeptical sepsis sort,
test this
T-cell, is this us? Or is this MERSACOVIDEO
override, through the bluetooth meanies
missing since the Yellow Submarine sunk
in Central Park, c. 1968.
Around the time Dubcek lost to the Commies.
Same season when North Korea got the Pueblo.
The tangled web,
seen in the sunlight topping the eastern wall,
George Harrison, perfect timing
every time I remember, this is real, out there
nearer the edge of my light cone,
from c.1968…
deception, ungrip the gripped fist,
monkey reaching for the fly in the bottle,
that chatters incessantly of having lived before,
monkey fist
feels something sticky,
is it… curious as george, for dammedshore,
a wave
of recognition, there's Waldo,
and Magic, Incorporated, free to reread, and
seed into my grand children,
who are reading the same hard back
Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone, that
I brought home to their mother after the trip
to Huston, during HP's takeover of Compac,
No, correction, it was after the trip to Denver.
--- sidetrack breadcrumb Quark and metadata
Sep 19, 2021
Sep 19, 2021 at 1:18 PM UTC
Breath of a beast or cowl of a coward.
Alone I ponder, which is the true curse?
Father and son, guided by light's shadow.
Showing me that it can always be worse.
I raise my glass, press my lips to my wife.
I don my cloak and leap into the night.
I wonder, when perhaps shall I know peace?
I wonder, when will I give up this fight?
Academic at heart, I weep from within.
Teacher, lover, father, hiding what's worse.
I pray they see my sin and let me be.
I pray they leave me with this coward's curse.
Nov 25, 2020
Nov 25, 2020 at 1:24 AM UTC
You split my soul in seven
Like a real life horcrux
My soul is attached to objects
That we have both grown to love
You split my soul in seven
Like you are a real life Voldemort
Tragically forgetting
That death indeed can be a blessing
Ascending us to heaven
You split my soul in seven
Like a real life horcrux
Now I am bound for eternity
Pondering your sickening depravity
Nov 14, 2020
Nov 14, 2020 at 12:55 PM UTC
Oct 11, 2020
Oct 11, 2020 at 7:22 AM UTC
a tall masted sailboat plods its way
across the picture window, under power, moving slow, 5 minute mile,
seagulls trail behind, periodically dive bombing the roiled wake, thinking, surely, men’s finding machinery may better than their own,
we,
taking anything to make the new days poems & troubles easier
so it goes, the interplay between man and a natural world,
so it goes, finding fish, our sustenances, a dance perpetual,
so it goes, divining spirits sensing a vision, bring me music,
a spiritual so apropos that who can doubt God’s existence?
**”With the water
Sweet water, wash me down
Come on, water
Sweet water, wash me down**
**Tried my hand at the Bible
Tried my hand at prayer
But now, nothing but the water
Is gonna bring my soul to bear”^**
so the birth-day begins, sunrise poems & troubles sure to follow,
in serenity commences, perhaps a sunset bookend to match,
but in between, surely poems & troubles, all of life’s stuffing,
signs and guides, surely, at least, the day’s poem is completed...
—————————————-
^ Nothing But the Water (II)
Grace Potter and the Nocturnals
Sep 11, 2020
Sep 11, 2020 at 8:05 AM UTC
Potters hands are grey
Clay doesn't know your colour
Only your talent
Aug 4, 2020
Aug 4, 2020 at 5:54 AM UTC
wheel thrown pottery
coils of clay willingly yield-
master potter's touch
Oct 18, 2019
Oct 18, 2019 at 11:19 PM UTC
Perhaps you think I groom them for my gain.
After all, I am just a Slytherin.
We are selfish beasts, some call us evil.
So clearly I'm just polishing my gems.
But I have to ask, do you know the pain?
The lonesome ache I find myself within?
A filthy balloon, just pass the needle!
If love won't find me, at least I'll have them.
Aug 14, 2019
Aug 14, 2019 at 1:38 PM UTC
My lips pursed by the power of Albus
as abuse lies dormant under my nose.
Oh how I wish I could be unbridled.
Oh how I wish I could just take a stand.
For now I'll sit in my matchstick palace,
I see the thorns, and I'll offer the rose.
Curse those soul-suckers while I sit idle.
Not Dementors, but family plagues this land.
Aug 13, 2019
Aug 13, 2019 at 1:25 PM UTC
I look to my Luna, my sun and stars.
My one remaining joy, life's true passion.
At times I see Pandora in her smile,
and in those moments the haze fades away.
Some might say my mind is a bit ajar,
A traitorous fanatic lost in sin.
This is fine, let them ramble, meanwhile
by Luna's side I'll live another day.
Aug 12, 2019
Aug 12, 2019 at 6:07 PM UTC
There remains a taste of lily on my lips,
as my thoughts grow into a mundane gray.
The Lords of dark and light intertwine
pulling my soul's string, but the dull ache remains.
Sectumsempra's slice can release the devil's grip.
As blood pools at my feet I feel it all fade away.
Finally, this moment I control, it is solely mine.
Alas, I shake myself awake, and return to the pain.
Aug 11, 2019
Aug 11, 2019 at 4:18 PM UTC
Can the *** ask the potter
why was it made a ***
and not a bowl or pitcher,
or even a sword?
Can Excel appeal to Gates
that it wants to be Edge?
Or Huawei to God of Money
to appease the Yellow Devil?
May 28, 2019
May 28, 2019 at 12:24 AM UTC
in the world full of,
james and lily potters,
will you be my severus snape?????
Feb 18, 2019
Feb 18, 2019 at 2:25 AM UTC
I'm pottering and napping
with no space for snap chatting
I'm reading and snoozing
with no online browsing
I'm just taking downtime
some space for just me time
I'll see you tomorrow
when I emerge from my burrow
Feb 17, 2019
Feb 17, 2019 at 2:43 PM UTC
If I were a Jedi
From District Two
I’d spend my schoolyears at Hogwarts
And summer breaks with Lilac LaRoux.
I’d talk books with Lady Jane Grey
And if I were an Angel-Blood
I’d fly far away.
Dec 27, 2018
Dec 27, 2018 at 12:40 AM UTC
Built upon the ruins of ****** relatives
And at the very top of this disaster that’s so thoroughly shaped your every waking moment
Sits your mother
On her throne balanced on sin
After sin
After sin
And the dull notion that her bold ideas and words will shape you into the heir that she wants
Because what is the eldest son other than to be a pawn in your families wicked games
Dec 11, 2018
Dec 11, 2018 at 2:25 PM UTC
We met years ago, I remember it well.
The past is past, we musn’t dwell.
As soon as i met you, I instantly fell.
After all this time, I remember it well.
Your eyes sparkle just like then,
When we used to be the best of friends.
You were a Gryffindore, I was a Slytherine,
We drifted apart, it was a matter of time.
I couldn’t save you from a terrible fate,
I hate myself every minute for that day.
Death leaves a heartache no one can heal,
Love leaves a memory no one can steal!
AFTER ALL THIS TIME?
ALWAYS!
Oct 3, 2018
Oct 3, 2018 at 11:20 PM UTC