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 Jul 16 Bijan Rabiee
ymmiJ
frenzied crowds implore
****** violence and gore
one poor man no more
Was not, want not
Maybe waste, is a hero...
Specific notion, of a quaint lot
Given to significant others, to owe

Promises and races
Taken advantage of...
Lucre, in tight places
To tear fright from an alien love

Powers that did...
Hark amidst times rest
A halt of hardship, habit, and hid
Youths of a secret, we blessed

Time in now's moral
Such, a reason for each
Their solitude, is sour rational
The question, of life to reach...

For loves first kiss...
Peace, worth more than poise
With each decency, we made is
A world's choice...
Speed seems to be a quiet clamor for more than a calling of wishes, even mention the patience...
Power and Form

Power and form—the two intertwined elements of human existence. Our words, sometimes sweet, other times sour, leave a lasting imprint across the tapestry of humanity. We often say “yes” to please others, driven by our so-called rational minds. But is the life of a poet or poetess more fulfilling than that of a farmer? Are we expressions of nature or mere victims of regimented affiliations?

As unpredictable and impossible species, we roam the Earth daily. Power and form—there’s no secret society (or perhaps there is). Our secrets are laid bare under the watchful eyes of the world. Strangers peruse our family albums, much like they search for emoji hearts and likes to boost their self-esteem in the online revelry. We unwittingly sell our souls to a forceful enemy—jealousy, insecurity, and the curiosity of others.

I celebrate my strength through my mediocre poetry. Why? Because not everyone can compose their feelings onto the screen or paper. Today, I am retired; today, I am free. But some days, even freedom becomes monotonous. Mental fatigue sets in from being so… 🤔
DEAR PENPAL PEOPLE, if we do---

I suggest
a humble
stumble
of a mere suggestion
for us to come
to stop
to deny learning about
the disgusting
magnificence of power
anymore
because if we do
we'll float under it
not within it
so let's just not
already we lack the plot
because we are nowhere
we're not even close
TO it
anyway

                                                      ­                                       ------ravenfeels
I luv strange sirens
lying At pond's bottom
Li many dead knights
cavalier in dance
over della nd valley morte
gas lit by their owned
intellectual noodles

We lie cold like soba or revenge

It will not be televised

the fusion,
Inverted Schmooing
A Mounting Inner Flame
A dance Meeting with Spirits
till the Dawn's early light

the Racing,
fast Noonward
2 dead lines scripted for a James Joyce
Netflix special late night

Like Bugz Vital Transformation
Like The Dances with Maya
Hey Jo. You know. You know.
Yawning in Awakening
like Kate or Kim or Kari or Karen or

2 Chopin's Nocturne
in repeating rhyming

5 patterns
The humans didn't stop there
though the words did
circa 2520 AD.

They harmonized love
into a seamless pattern
of expressions.

Once they realised
words were only confining them
they wove patterns of smile
and wove them into faces
(lips were almost discarded)
sewing as many expressions
of joy, sorrow, happiness
and not the least
despair and disappointment
patterns for which were hard to make
as men had all along learned to hide
the brokenness of unattainment.

Freedom from the shackles of words
became the most manifest expression
on their faces.

One pattern was never woven.

Men had since made redundant
the emotion of hatred.
How many wonderful canine companions
have come through my life, I hesitate to count,
each one a dear friend that brightened my
daily existence, taught me lessons no human
could, faithfully loved me with committed
devotion and asked for so very little in return.
Yes, it is true, dogs are man's best friend.
As I near my own ending, reflection has become
a daily preoccupation. Of course, I miss and
lovingly remember my departed human family
members and work hard trying to recall their
human forms, all gone now for over fifty years,
I've mostly forgotten their voices, and their
features beyond old fading mostly black and
white photos. As I will forever honor their
memories, so do I cherish the memory of my
canine family members, there were seven in
all, I just counted them. Six Boxer dogs and
a big sweet giant Rottweiler, who looked
like he might eat your face, but instead
always preferred to lick it.
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