"accommodation" poems
Unbiased at least he was when he arrived on his mission,
Having never set eyes on the land he was called to partition
Between two peoples fanatically at odds,
With their different diets and incompatible gods.
"Time," they had briefed him in London, "is short. It's too late
For mutual reconciliation or rational debate:
The only solution now lies in separation.
The Viceroy thinks, as you will see from his letter,
That the less you are seen in his company the better,
So we've arranged to provide you with other accommodation.
We can give you four judges, two Moslem and two Hindu,
To consult with, but the final decision must rest with you."
Shut up in a lonely mansion, with police night and day
Patrolling the gardens to keep the assassins away,
He got down to work, to the task of settling the fate
Of millions. The maps at his disposal were out of date
And the Census Returns almost certainly incorrect,
But there was no time to check them, no time to inspect
Contested areas. The weather was frightfully hot,
And a bout of dysentery kept him constantly on the trot,
But in seven weeks it was done, the frontiers decided,
A continent for better or worse divided.
The next day he sailed for England, where he could quickly forget
The case, as a good lawyer must. Return he would not,
Afraid, as he told his Club, that he might get shot.
31.6k
Whirlpool of whirling quaint
Inequality brewing in the
Winepress of smithereens
Fragile polity.
Voices of weariness cried
Out from the wasteyard of
Waste for succour,
Pointing fingers of
Recrimination towards
The abyss of drouth ,
Entangled in conflicts
Of interest.
Winds of improvised emblem
Bearing hunchback of
Woes,
Raising hands from the
Drowning deep sea
For rescue like
A dejected beautiful
Vigaro in a
Turbulent ocean of quarrel
With her spouse.
Whereas reddish fluids of life
Runs across the same veins
And arteries of haves
And haves-not but
Cottage of interests
Hoisting avalanche of
Rainbow-coloured flags
Standing aloof on the
Pole of misrule,
Demarcating their interests.
No accommodation for wants
In the corridor of affluence.
Wants on a trade mission
With wealthy but caged in
The confinement of wealth.
Winds of inequality blew
Whirler of wants into
The marrow of the
Haves-not.
Rains of inequality passing
Through a lockage of lack
Into the improvised,
Doling-out poverty to
Gain the control of
Wealth.
Alas! Blindness sees inner
Vision of darkness from
The households of political
lamia.
Alas! Deafness hears
Discordant vague voices
Of failure from the forest
of frustration.
Alas! Dumbness speaks
Language of gnomes out
Of the vale of forgotten
treasures.
Alas! A four year tenancy
turning into decades
of challenges.
But we shall revive our hope
and raise our voices
tomorrow.
Feb 22, 2019
Feb 22, 2019 at 8:19 AM UTC
The light mankind has created although useful
has dulled and perhaps even made them blind
to the immaculate beauty of the night sky
and warm rays of sunshine days.
Now, it's not an argument or a condemnation
it is simply a sigh and an accommodation.
Jun 30, 2014
Jun 30, 2014 at 9:04 PM UTC
5? 6? 7?
(can’t be certain when exactly)
14.
17.
18.
He told me that it was okay.
Some will flinch at the touch.
Some will go into a daze.
Some - I - will crave the touch of strangers, and many at that,
to replace those days.
He told me that I was special.
I became careless and reckless
with love on accommodation sheets.
While I mistaken their meticulously placed words
for love that I thought was finally peace.
He told me that it wouldn’t hurt.
It’s 2:52am and my timeline is flooded
with girls and trials and underwears passed around in court
as if it mattered for the verdict.
The bags around my eyes are flooded
with tears of anger and hatred
as if to beg for some kind of justice.
They told me that I should be flattered.
But the thing is we haven’t been okay since.
It did hurt but we still needed ******* evidence.
We were already special before they took away our innocence.
And now all we can do is get angry and hurt and wince
at the stories like ours that social media has evinced.
We hope to god our daughters will never have a jury to convince.
Dec 7, 2020
Dec 7, 2020 at 9:19 PM UTC
Know this—I am well acquainted with the wolf,
Well versed in his ways, his demeanor,
His dispassionate relentlessness,
His pitiless focus on hunt and hunted,
His workaday disdain of pity.
There are those who would laud the mythical Spartan lad
Who hid the wolf beneath his cloak,
Affecting some gallant stoicism
As the beast consumed him without restraint,
But I say to you that is a mere romantic fallacy,
A wanton failure to apprehend the true moral.
I have learned that there is no accommodation,
No covenant to be reached with the wolf,
And any attempt to do so is merely to invite destruction,
And so I choose to engage him openly, without reservation,
Rolling tail-over-teacup in the streets,
Attempting to hold his jaws open with bare hands
While those who find such battle unseemly and uncouth
Jeer and hoot from porch and portico.
No matter, for I will continue to meet the cur on my terms,
For staid suffering in the hopes
Of reaching some accord with the beast
Is the not the act of the noble sage:
It is the mock heroics of the coward,
The sad acquiescence of the simpering fool.
Mar 20, 2018
Mar 20, 2018 at 2:02 PM UTC
The Emperor's new shoes
Painted imitation leather, polished and treated with care
admired and envied, all eyes drawn, especially yours.
Look at me, envy me, look how I dance.
Look at my silhouette marvel at how I make you feel,
Throw yourself to me, l make you feel so true
We are elite .
Walking stronger, dancing so much faster
How fanciful I am you,free unaffected
How do I make you look and feel, the emperor's new shoes,
Legitimizing your nobility
But how I pinch, and how I hurt you, how contorted you’v become,
How you twisted and bent to fit with me,
contrived , like me ,our artificial natural .
Your need for me and performance reflecting my own.
This illusion , only granted by me.
You never really chose, i led you to believe you are some king.
Your allegiance will not be rewarded the crest has to fall,
You can not always dance for me .
Remember i am painted and cannot become worn ,
I will not become comfortable for you,
I will not become misshapen from accommodation and give.
I will not shine if you dull me, my radiance is painted ,
Only you my emperor masked our deceit.
Now i leave you barefoot .
Jan 27, 2014
Jan 27, 2014 at 4:11 PM UTC
"Found poem", all the text lifted from a tourist pamphlet picked up in Crete, only very slightly edited.
There are daily buses starting from Chania
to the head of the gorge,
which is called Xyloskalo.
Buses say on the front "Omalos" and depart
from the central bus station.
By taking any of the morning buses you get to Xyloskalo
after one and a half hours.
At Xyloskalo there is a tourist pavilion
where you can get meals, drinks,
and which has only seven beds for staying overnight.
For those wishing to spend the night
on the Omalos plateau
there is another possibility, that of staying
at Omalos village itself, five kilometres before Xyloskalo,
where are two cafés providing several beds. From there
you get any of the morning buses starting from Chania
to the head of the gorge.
The length of the gorge is sixteen kilometres, and you need
five to six hours to walk through it. There is plenty
of drinking water all along the gorge. Tennis shoes
or walking boots are recommended. Camping,
overnight staying, smoking, hunting,
cutting and uprooting plants
are forbidden.
At the mouth of the gorge is Aghia Rouméli village,
which provides restaurants and accommodation.
From there you take boats
either to Sfakía (duration: one hour) or to Soughia
and Paleochora.
Remember that the last boat to Sfakía is at 17 hours,
which connects with the last bus to Chania at 18 hours.
Duration of the bus trip: two hours.
May 9, 2016
May 9, 2016 at 10:40 AM UTC
Human Trafficking
This one thing evolved
Such a badly that
31.6 billion dollars
Of trade is happening
In the world per annum
Mostly women and
Some young girls
They were harassed
Sexually, sometimes forced
To marry someone or making them
Slaves and more that I cannot
Explain them in words
Because knowing about it
I became dumb
They are tortured and given electrical
Shocks if they refuse their offer
Many are affected with ***
They offer a job by telling about
The packages and the accommodation
And finally when they are in their traps
They will show their evil faces and
Torture them
Jul 27, 2014
Jul 27, 2014 at 11:20 PM UTC
we cannot grasp the current situation
our hands are not quite equal to the task
and comrade lenin's at the finland station
all sense has gone from leaders of the nation
while generals have all dived into flask
we cannot grasp the current situation
but know that it's no cause for celebration
as we have reached the bottom of the cask
and comrade lenin's at the finland station
we tried to impose rules of segregation
but found that there were things we could not ask
we cannot grasp the current situation
the masses do not give us admiration
while idle rulers on far beaches bask
and comrade lenin's at the finland station
we find there is no true accommodation
they've seen the monster face behind the mask
we cannot grasp the current situation
and comrade lenin's at the finland station
Mar 8, 2013
Mar 8, 2013 at 8:15 AM UTC
My hand held out...
...to guard your back
When your friendships lacked
...to give money or supplies
When you couldn't survive
...to hold your hand
When you needed support
...to give you a hug
When you needed love
...to high five yours
At all of your endeavors
...to pat on your back
When you succeeded this or that
...to throw a thumbs-up
Because you never gave up
My hand held out...
...to cover my eyes
Through all of the lies
...to hide evidence
When you lacked common sense
...to understand the unreal
Amounts of items you'd steal
...to my chin to stipulate
The way you'd manipulate
...to cover my heart and divert
From your stories that hurt.
I could do this when I had two hands.
I could juggle these separate demands.
My dominant hand is limp now.
The tasks I take on are now simple.
I can only do one thing at a time.
Like, write out this single line rhyme.
When you see my hand out...
...from utter desperation
Please don't tabulate your accommodation
...remember I never asked before my disability
That you had previously admired my stability
...homeless, ***** and hungry
Offer to help me, without charging money
...keep in mind, it's the only one I have
My abilities and tasks all need to be halves
...perhaps don't act put-out or surprised
Because the person who's asking is paralyzed.
Apr 20, 2017
Apr 20, 2017 at 10:44 AM UTC
(Ain’t “They” Great!)
Now watching 13 year old grandkid live-on-streaming-Internet,
playing Little League baseball in California, pleasantly surprised,
No, not by the amazing technology, or his super great play,
but the laugh-out-loud accommodation to the “au courant”
Game announcer, a soulless robot machine, stupid-smart, without exception, employs THEY pronoun for all, which after 10 seconds thot,
of serious reflection is a brilliant deflection, a solutionary salutation!
We come to see kids play ball, care not a whiff (double entendre),
re identity politicized insanity, machine makes everyone truly equal,
robbing stupids of a phony, proclamation of self-righteous “individuality”
God Bless No-Brainers!
Ain’t They Great!
~Postcript~
Introducing a newly Recomposed Natty:
still an OWG
(old white guy)
but now a Proudly, a gaily machine-made, in the USA
They.
May 30, 2023
May 30, 2023 at 10:46 AM UTC
Your family yells and I wish I can help,
Your family beats but I still wish to meet,
Your family drinks and I still need to jinx,
You a better life.
You don't deserve this,
You say you do, but you don't.
Trust me, I won't stop saying this, I won't!
I love you as a friend, you know I do
How can I make you believe me, what's new with you?
I need for you to understand, so you don't become a shrew,
Will you ever love me as I've loved you?
May 24, 2018
May 24, 2018 at 11:57 AM UTC
In some cases,we live like animals
We share water sources with cows and goats
Even accommodation in other instances
The schools our children attend are the worst
They hardly achieve any form of formal education
While theirs attain world-class best
We toil the hardest
But still,earn the least
It is said that East or West,home is best...
But how can I appreciate this,yet in my home,I feel lost?!
From the world,we are outcast
Many refugees in our land are enjoying better conditions
In a land we call home,
Our own,our motherland...!!!
We,the marginalized are treated like trash
Old and rusty beds,and empty medicine shelves in our hospitals
They only remember us in times of election,for to them,our faces look like votes
What's the appearance of a vote...?!!
When they see us,they see different images of votes
In their favour,they see ticked ballots
Shacks and scanty settlements
Haunted slums and ghettos
Homelessness too...
This is where we thrive
With our families,this is where we live
The marginalized
Their claims of our good welfare are baseless
We the marginalized are voiceless
No matter how loud,our voices are still unheard
After all,our words make no sense
Many a time,in our homes,we sleep on empty stomachs
But because of constant and steady good feeding,their exotic dogs are bulging
Many of us think they are cursed
We live to die
Alcohol and drugs are our source of assured liberty
With these,we gain our momentary empowerment
Yes,in life,only death is certain but in our lives,going through the day alive is a big achievement
We live in abandonment
Child-headed homes and families
Single-mothers that are unemployed
And single fathers that are disconnected
And this is who we are...The Marginalized.
Jan 22, 2022
Jan 22, 2022 at 1:50 PM UTC
By day five
your mind has reverted
to a test channel out of signal–
there should have at least been some colors
but instead you’re left with static,
the visual sensation of a limb gone to sleep.
There is a slow haze
shuddering down the length of you,
and you have written masterpieces
you cannot recall the names of
while you shake your vision
back into your skull
from where it wandered off
with the cursor again.
Your knees buckle as you try
to stumble back to the living,
but it’s too late,
you’re out of minutes–
Dec 16, 2015
Dec 16, 2015 at 7:22 PM UTC
Young Americans, all volunteers
Sampling English women and English beer
Over sexed, over paid and over here
In the scrubby bit next to Sally's house there used to stand another cottage. If you scrape away some soil you can find floor bricks. A german fighter tailed some bombers back, shot one down as it made its final landing approach.It crashed short, demolishing the cottage. When Sally first moved in there were bits of metal laying around and dials hanging in the trees. An old boy turned up one day, a surviving crew member. They gave him some bits of his old plane to take home.
On planes with names like
Frivolous Sal, Dauntless Dotty
Million $ Baby, Memphis Belle
Sylvia was a child during the war.They saw a german fighter shot down, the pilot managed to open his chute. He walked up to their house, knocked on the door and gave himself up. Sylvia's dad marched him down to the Police Station.
Braving the freezing hostile skies
Thousands and thousands of you guys
How can we thank you
After you've died?
Next to Diane's house, hidden in the trees are the remains of nissen huts built as accommodation for the airmen. Not much left after 70 years, a few concrete block walls. Now and again she used to see some misty-eyed old guy gazing into the trees.
Long after you're gone
The land remembers
Bears the scars
Of those few years of turmoil
David is a gardener in our village, nice guy, should have retired by now. Don't think his father ever kept in touch.
Mar 19, 2012
Mar 19, 2012 at 1:16 PM UTC
I've been gone,
Focusing on my goals,
Savoring every minute,
In the present,
Being whole,
Disconnecting from distractions,
Discovering new attractions,
That move me to the next level,
That make me feel confident,
I am stronger than the devil,
Or anyone who cares to defy me,
For I am the light,
That burns so bright,
To educate and revive thee,
From the pain,
Of the mundane,
Lack of wonder,
Abysmal plane,
That is life,
Without dreams,
Art,
Inspiration,
Plight,
Accommodation.
Apr 15, 2021
Apr 15, 2021 at 3:43 AM UTC
Not like the stories, is it?
Or the movies, or the expectations
we get from all that.
It's about people who travel with baggage
they carry when
they move into your life.
It's heavy sometimes, and ugly and you have
to help them carry it, which isn't much fun.
Not like what it was supposed to be;
nothing you want to do;
not fair at all…
So what it is, love that is, takes all the stuff
from the stories and expectations
and adds understanding, acceptance, accommodation
because that's what it takes to help you
carry someone's baggage…
and what it takes to help them carry yours.
Apr 22, 2016
Apr 22, 2016 at 3:41 PM UTC
Doctor and Mrs Granger
have returned from their honeymoon
they are expecting a baby
some time in the middle of June
Mrs Thrift has offered to take the baby
for pram rides in the park
Mr Clarke will escort her home
if she gets lost in the dark
a pleasant family atmosphere
is what Doctor and Mrs Granger want to create
they want to see their child grow up
with plenty of playmates
Mrs Granger wishes to have twelve babies
within sixteen years
this amount of children
will fill the Granger home with much cheer
they are presently decorating
all the rooms at the Granger compound
so it will have enough accommodation
for the babies they'll have around
last week Mrs Granger
spoke to the ladies at the coffee shop
and told them
her life and health were well on top
Apr 26, 2013
Apr 26, 2013 at 7:51 PM UTC
I saw a brave bird today,
Unapologetic about her barred face.
She sat, perched on the mossy branch of my favorite tree,
Mysteriously familiar with her piercing gaze.
People found her unfortunate looking,
She didn't care about what people thought,
She had come to live and live she would,
This amazing outlook, by others uncaught,
Maybe it comes from within, it is self-taught,
I ponder on this, an afterthought.
In came a savage, ill-bred,
Willfully ignorant of the lesson she exhibited,
Shooing her away, now content,
The savage doesn't know his wisdom remains limited.
The bird was elegant and unafraid,
She made a graceful ascent,
The brute cursed and cursed and cursed,
For she had left him a parting present.
I giggled to myself,
Secure even after the separation,
For I know I'd see her again tomorrow,
For on the tree, and now in my heart, lays her foundation and accommodation..
I saw a brave bird today,
Unapologetic about her barred profile,
I learnt alot by just looking at her,
Like how to accept yourself with grace and a smile,
And make your life worthwhile..
I saw a brave bird today and
I'd see her tomorrow too,
I wish to be her and learn more,
If she can do it, so can you.
I saw my brave bird today and
I'm going to be someone's brave bird tomorrow...
Sep 9, 2020
Sep 9, 2020 at 6:16 PM UTC
Like the sun's transcendental glow-
His positive energy is illuminating
Like the sun is an almost perfect sphere -
His personality, character and qualities are almost flawless
Like the sun is the source of Earth's bio -
His very existence sustains my joyful life
Like the sun being our universe's calm, steady and powerful center -
His presence occupies the core of my thought, word and deed
Like the sun radiates a strong magnetic field -
His embodiment allures me so intensely yet effortlessly
Though the sun's light reaches Earth in 8 minutes -
His light extends to me in an attosecond
Though the Sun contains 99.86% of the mass in the Solar System-
His accommodation in my heart encompasses a full 100%
Though the sun may one day run out of nuclear fuel and burn out
His love for me and my love for Him will remain eternal, everlasting...
***Unfathomably, Spiritually endless...
There can only be one sun in a universe, I know not mine.
Nov 2, 2015
Nov 2, 2015 at 12:58 PM UTC
Thinking back towards my childhood, remembering those tiny moments that broke my spirit. Conformity, the pressures of this square peg to fit into those round holes; barriers that put my agility in stasis forcing my mind to endure constant pummeling from both friends and foes. I was too afraid to stand up and embrace confrontation; those “reindeer games” that I didn't know how to play.
I believe, everything happens for a reason, even when the reason is ignorant. The days become years, rolling with the changing seasons yet the moments mimic one another. Surely there are lessons to learn within the complexity of triviality, the child becoming the adult still tethered to burden of ********
There’s this feeling of déjà vu again; the journey is filled with course corrections, navigation through expectations and recommendations to appease values not my own. The plaguing sense of accommodation to avoid confrontation becomes the eulogy at my funeral procession. Maybe it’s time to stop moving and let that thing I am most fearful of pull me into the center of chaos; to sit in the belly of the whale and let it all go.
May 21, 2013
May 21, 2013 at 9:21 PM UTC
I will tell you a story, Most Reverend One
how 300 fairies transported me
to the Mountains of Peach Lands
and how I denied them each my heart -
but ha, ha - I can see, you laugh;
you do not believe me...
but I have more reasonable stories -
for example
of how the Earth was created;
it’s true, O Most Reverend One
there’s such a Being up there
eating chicken dumplings
and poking His nose
in trivial and very grave human affairs...
O he, he, he...you see my tales are but fancy
and do not believe such a Creature can exist...
but am I done, most Reverend One?
Is my list of tales and myth and stories
so limited? - No, I have a list of stories
as long as the tail of the Divine Monkey
that first whipped all stars into position
and with its Monkey hands squeezed each planet into solid mass
O there you are, you laugh and make me happy
you encourage me, O Most Reverend One
I will study your mood
and I can tell you a tale
of how your ancestors
shaped this land
and how they brought that chair you sit on
from the Diamond Palaces of faraway India -
oh, ** ** ** - you didn’t know that?
and generations of your clan have sat there on that chair
and so do you - and you never knew its story...
I have long lists of stories and tales
all true and collected from lands far and wide -
ah you laugh, Most Reverend One -
and you encourage me...
My story itself will interest you
for I was born of noble family with great wealth
and pomp and estate and attendants
but when my mum died,
she said to me:
Go you forth
and collect the world’s stories
and so I gave away all my possessions
and I travelled all abroad
and have come to my current itinerant state...
See, my life itself is a story -
worthy of our operas and and street theaters
with much comedy and adventures...
ha, ha, ha - O ** ** **
you laugh and you are pleased
which pleases me...
Call then your clan together, O Most Reverend One;
set up a platform
and I will shine like a sun on this platform
and I will tell these tales
in the gentle light of the moon and torches
and I shall spin tales of the moment
for each man and woman
and each child of your most revered clan, O Most Reverend One...
you laugh, and you nod
you are pleased - oh, oh, ha....ha...ha...
that’s good Most Reverend One...
But now, Most Reverend One,
I never start without terms...
*shall we first talk about my accommodation, food, facilities
and payment?*
Dec 2, 2011
Dec 2, 2011 at 7:40 PM UTC
When birds fly further further
as cloud in the sky shutter
the perfume in the air is heavy,
and accommodation of my is heavy
too heavy, for a sight like this
too corny, for a stride like this
But hence i walk, where to go?
Homewards i walk,
slow and slow
And creep i must through dirt
and put out the logs i burnt
turn stones or blast them
go round adversity or jump past them
I know where to go
Homewards i walk,
slow and slow
Adverse it is for me to say though
and no my friend no
i havent found my home
but i know where to go
its home and home alone
and i'll find in time though.
Marking the paths with chalk
Homewards i walk
slow and slow
Nov 2, 2013
Nov 2, 2013 at 11:58 PM UTC
The labor of love is lost
in this age of Accommodation.
Technology, Anonymity,
and worst of all
Isolation.
Oct 30, 2014
Oct 30, 2014 at 11:10 PM UTC