#stamp
Ah, Pradip,
once more, like a 1000 times before,
you submit title, demanding a poem,
daring me to author it's entire body & cell structure,
give it a native language birthmark, and a history unique,
even a name
Un fair!
Is it only me that you burden so, I doubt it.
Each of us has the right to the small tinys, things we see,
the embellishments of our lives,
filling our hives with pure honey,
and letting the other others peek
over our shoulders, as we write to each other,
always one more time until there is no more time
Do words have any boundaries?
How is it that words can cross the seas, the mountains, all the while,
interjecting the fullness of their import?
What time is it you ask?
Here, not yet 5 AM, and once more, here again, roused from sleep after vivid dreams, and finger pointing of my poetic life responsibility to complete this task, you gave me unasked, but know me too well, for well they rang like a bell in the brain,
a burr in the bed,
a gun to the head
Each
and all commanding,
fulfill me!
Do words require a passport to cross oceans? Do words have citizenship?
Why does entry into a different country require each time, a new poem?
yes, the house is dark,
I am alone, but not really…
The words that are conscripted to be issued, in this missive, fall so easily from my lips, that it is as if they were already there,
MRE's
?
pre-prepared, "meals – ready – to eat, "
for voyaging to the Indian continent, not caring if they came alone, or with my body in their person possessed
How is the little granddaughter?
Does she command you to write poetry too?
Does she write poetry too?
Does she learn English as well as her native tongue?
How do you tell her that you love her, celebrate her,
and that her fame and escapades are unkempt
by real geographical boundaries,
and travel around the world?
Ah, You see
I have charged you now with responsibility!
Ah, the tables have turned, now boundaries must be crossed again with a passport issued from a foreign land (foreign to me anyway),
And I wonder and wander, when they arrive, how will I know,
commit them to memory, and love them with all my heart forever?
Praddip!
Go for one of your walks on quiet nearly empty roads, see the old people beside them, doing the things that old people do,
and memorialize these moments,
you do
so well, so fine, and let the other onlookers hear them spoke, in every language, so many love poems to life, we do not lack for any,
but always, always, always,
demand and require,
n e e d
(he howls)
one more!
Time: 5:1 2 AM
Eastern standard time
New York City
By the Atlantic Ocean
On an island surrounded by water,
That 1,000,000 or more every day pass by,
And here,
h e a r not the flow,
lost amidst
the blaring megaphone of silences
of
city noises, city words, cityscapes, human miracles, and tragedies, it cannot be.
that
I am
the only one so burdened!
And by well traveled poetry,
so un burdened
This semi private, totally public,
Love now,
Love note
is complete as of 5:16 a.m., and after a quick review, will be sent on to you, for submission of a unique-passport for
with its very own
valid entry stamp
nml
Apr 11, 2025
Apr 11, 2025 at 3:00 PM UTC
Write about the Sky
how it shines
Write about the Ocean
and all its tides
Write about Pain
Write about Belief
Write about Love
And how It's Received
Write about Friends
Write about Trends
Write about Healing
Write about the Feeling
Write about the Cosmo
Write about Speed
Write about Trees
Write about Greed
Write about Memory and how it serves
Write about Honor and what it deserves
Write it once
Write it again
Save the draft &
label The End
Feb 27, 2019
Feb 27, 2019 at 5:27 PM UTC
I touch you
and through you
I experiencing
the reflections
of all Gods
I step out into the void
and amidst the sandstorm
I call out the names
of all i read on your skin
And now
there is no way back
My fate is bounded
to the elderly tokens
that rule these worlds
The ages have stamped
with blood and that was inevitably
From the annihiliation
a flower always sprouts
The sought gates of the Purgatory
will always be inside
our innermost lust for power
Many talked about the aftermath
Who will accumulate the souls?
Who will take over the segragation
between the ''corrupted''
and the ''virtuous''?
Sentries sent by Warlords of yore
often call in to see if i still endure
And i grin at them and
share with my fellow ghosts
the bitterness of truth
Dec 3, 2018
Dec 3, 2018 at 2:20 PM UTC
ive worn a brand my entire life
that’s been
stamped across my forehead.
i believe that
everyone can see it,
painted red with little girl blood.
all my life people have taken chunks
from me, and all my life,
i’ve given people chunks.
i believe that maybe if i were different
i would be perfect.
im cruel, and im sorry.
Jun 23, 2018
Jun 23, 2018 at 4:10 AM UTC
how could I ever
get over what he just said
he is so rediculas
he thinks
he
is
so
smart
just look at him laying here
making all his words
go
there
he think he is so smart
what does he think he is
who does he thinks he is
what makes him
think
he
can
park his
Harley Davidson
in
my
mind
what
does he take me for an fool
does he think
i
am
am
an
or should we write
a imaginary kiss
yeah well we just wanna know
who does he think he is
what makes him think
he can do this to me
well
he
done it
now we are really bleeding
what wiil we ever tell mother
we wish he could see me
bleeding
on
these
sheets
bet he would be sorry then
give me
one
hundred
dollars
let's
bet
how could I ever
?
...
..
.
Feb 26, 2018
Feb 26, 2018 at 11:46 AM UTC
i collect stamps
not the mail kind
not the male kind
not the may hill kind
not the mayo ill kind
not the may hue kind
not the maim yew kind
not the mwaya view kind
not the mwayam myeil kind
not the amaway yilovski kind
not the mynsigwi malomisten kind
snot snee smail skind
rot tree trail rind
trotsky braille grind
hot bree hail's tine
kind
kind
kind
kind
kind
kind
kind
kind
kind
kind
kind
kind
kind
mail
mali
alim
liam
ailm
ailm
ailm
Apr 14, 2017
Apr 14, 2017 at 12:13 AM UTC
Their obsession to conquer.
Their ancient desire to subdue.
They utilize every opportunity;
And stamp me with their shoe.
A fact they should have known.
Long ago I lost all my ******
With the passage of time.
I have turned into dead dust.
Calmness is all what I needed.
Only if they had left me alone.
Like dust I would settled down.
Without force subdued on my own.
However, they stamp me repeatedly.
Big-chested, Arrogant guys!
But the more they stamp me,
The more like dust I rise.
Jan 23, 2016
Jan 23, 2016 at 11:19 AM UTC
Enveloped by mixed emotions
Just put a stamp on me and mail me out
Maybe not
Jan 18, 2015
Jan 18, 2015 at 5:34 PM UTC
I kissed someone in the night,
Then woke to moan my plight,
No one to sing my song with me,
But contentment soon the object of my sight,
The Maker is my might,
Who better to sing in harmony?
Than the one who gave to me?
The melody of soul.
He sweeps the stars in dulcet patterns,
And creams the clouds for frosting,
He bends the eyelash and reddens lips,
Adds all the sweetness to make our hearts dip,
Forward and fall in love with his own stamp of beauty.
The Stamper is the most beautiful;
No crafted canyon, or molded man can compare to the Maker of it all,
For he only takes what is his and gives it out like candy,
To the mouths of all his children, unaware of his hand.
I want to be aware, to see indescribable things,
To watch with inner eyes what few else have seen,
To hear a song of a different dimension,
Lovely amidst dissension, and run towards that which can,
Really, give me what I want,
Give me what I need.
Oct 13, 2014
Oct 13, 2014 at 3:57 PM UTC
You licked your lips
I lip synced to you
you licked your stamp
I felt I might be cornered
you stamped your gift
I'm stuck on you
we got stuck in
strokes
smoothing down
you stamped your mark on me
delivered
lips to lips
striking
we stuck to it
no
we aren't stuck with it
but on each other
tampering
peeling off
licking our lips
Jul 12, 2014
Jul 12, 2014 at 8:05 AM UTC