"amenities" poems
From the House Of Ali -Najaf to the House Of Hussain-Kerbala,
Swarms of people walk 80kilometres for threes days- united,
The largest peaceful gathering in the world with free services,
An experience like no other.
Blessed are those who walk,
More blessed are those who serve.
No discrimination,
Regardless of sect, profession or social status,
Rich or poor,
Young or old,
Men or women,
In wheel chairs, crutches or with Zimmer frames,
Prams or hand carts,
All march with respect and dignity,
With one thought in mind,
To pay allegiance to Hussain,
Who sacrificed his head for humanity.
Every eye is moist,
Every heart torn in grief,
Chanting"Labbaik Ya Hussain."
With an iron will to complete the walk.
A nation, war-torn, wounded,
Embraces the whole world in the name of Hussain,
The longest dining table,
Where every zuwar is honoured and treated like royalty,
To pay in currency, none,
Only love and kindness and an urge to serve the zuwars.
Along the roadside are set up Mowakebs (tents),
That provide every kind of facilities and amenities ,
Food,beverages medicines,toiletries,
Fresh clothes if need be, shower rooms and toilets,
A massage of your feet,
Services to charge or repair your phone's,zimmer frames or prams,
Anything for the zuwars,
All in the name of the Ahle bayt,
Mohamed,Ali,Fatema,Hassan and Hussain.
What Hussain and his followers were denied is served with outstretched arms,
The aftermath of Kerbala was more tragic and callous,
The tears of Binte Zainab that retold the tragedy again and again,
Has born fruits,
The zuwars multiply in numbers
every year,
The rewards greater.
Oct 20, 2018
Oct 20, 2018 at 12:22 PM UTC
Traffic came to a halt as signal turned red again,
I heard a small kid knocking at the window pane.
I looked up suddenly and met his eye,
My face turned frowzy - not sure why?
Begging for a 10 rupee note in exchange of a flag,
Scores of other such items he carried in his bag.
Something about the set of his face suggested a despair,
Maybe he wanted to say something but he couldn't dare.
Maybe his leaders had covertly kept an eye on him,
Thus flagging him down from expressing his whim.
He just pretended that everything is fine,
Was it because otherwise, he would've nothing to dine?
I looked into his eyes, which couldn't hide it all,
Gently I started reading through his eyeball.
The desire to be rescued from poverty and pain,
The outlook over his dreams to start all again.
The delicate and subtle hands were badly bruised,
The plight of his innocence had left me confused.
The tears went unseen and the voice unheard,
Aspirations of flying high like a free bird.
Three, two, one and the signal turned green,
He flashed a gentle smile and passed by the scene.
Throughout that day, my mind was confronted with the thought,
His silence was loud, apparently speaking a lot.
(Shayad uski khamoshi bohat kuch keh gayi thi...)
Who will provide them all the necessities?
And help them with their basic amenities!!
Who will find them a decent vocation?
Food, shelter, clothing and education!!
Mar 19, 2017
Mar 19, 2017 at 11:10 AM UTC
m*any days I feel it isn't worth it
it is better I end it
I just do not fit
right
Small disappointments
unfilled expectations
make my daily lessons
I am no longer surprised
gifted with so many unused liberties
armed with many facilities
having all basic amenities
why still unsatisfied?
my thirst for what?
but compare it to so many of them
where do my problems stand
should my opinions even matter
God still has to hear my many complaints
every other day
No wonder he doesn't listen,
I wouldn't too.
Blessed with so much
wasted it all
on being this bitter self I hate
my present state draws the ugly future
and the only cure
is to feel gratitude
on the things I still have
on my conscience who still cares*.
Feb 26, 2018
Feb 26, 2018 at 2:07 PM UTC
Road Trippin, with my click
Excited as all hell
Blaring Beats through Bama
Salty ocean I can smell
We reach the main strip
Find the Days Inn
First we eat our fill
Now where’s my gin
The beach is a constant party
Sunup to sundown
We have three rooms connected
Hailing from T Town
Many more friends are here
Joining our festivities
We spent more money on *****
Then any other amenities
Man after man begins to drop
Who will last the night
Incorporate the puke and rally
Get back in the fight
The week has reached it’s close
Ready to head home
Yet once we leave I know to well
I’ll miss the sea’s white foam
Well so long my dear Panama
Another trip I will make
For I had the time of my life
On my first spring break
Feb 27, 2013
Feb 27, 2013 at 7:55 PM UTC
As a child I dabbled in ******
No barbie was safe from the hands of their god
Ran hills caked to the toe
Roughed terrain with neighborhood boys
They called me girl
But I felt boy
Upon later years I learned:
Dress
Skirt
Bra
Flower
Amenities accustomed to this body;
A bustling street of hormones without a
red light
Next were *******
Wild & rambling, I soon
Mastered the art of shrinking
I kissed my first boy & felt it rattle through my bones
His hair an ocean in my hands as I rose up
to the surface
Later I discovered the shared experience of Woman,
Shifting about the world as a silly metaphor
Carved fingers into mace & metal
Ankles clinking busily on a subway platform
In learning to fight
The young boy dwindled into memory and
I couldn’t sense shape anymore
Fell in and out of love with woman and man alike,
Sinking deep into salt & sand
These days I can’t help but wonder if
attraction is a mode of defense
Or that of love
These days I run hills in heels
Caked to the toe in color
--
c
Mar 13, 2018
Mar 13, 2018 at 1:11 AM UTC
Day One:
A voice speaks to me.
When you realize that being lost is so close to being found, you see a sea of family members plagued within the lineage of licentious newborns and hospital beds. You become yourself, a lisp.
Day Two:
Long ago in a city left unscorned he was torn, from the cokeheads and colorful regimes, angels sing long songs of separation anxiety and **** withdrawal. I was torn from the deadbeats of supposed society and three day vicodin trips into my mind. So can you let me know when I get there? ‘Cause I left there running…I wonder, did someone ever tell you that two strangers could twist around your neck at beck and that three parked cars and seventeen lonely nights could haunt you for the rest of your faces.
Day Three:
Tell me of your drug induced hallucinations.
Day Four:
Wait. Hear. Can’t you listen to the relapse? Stop, think. No. gone. Left. Love. Return. My curious addiction. Go back into yourself and listen. Can’t you hear your soul call to me? It’s loud.
Day Five:
I remember prizes at the bottoms of cereal boxes, right before the net broke. Will you be first? Snap back to reality.
It’s dark in here. Wretch from me… I am crying, screaming,
haha! I’m melting inside!
Day Six:
By plucking her petals you do not gather the beauty of the flower, but the seed inside
Caked over in grief, we are not plates that match. But fools of folly caught in a sea of coke and disillusioned discord. Speed stands between directing and orders to death’s soldiers.
Day Seven:
The difference between God and his counterpart is that he makes exceptions!
Except me.
Day Eight:
Accept me!
Please.
Wait.
No.
don’t slow,
speed.
I can only take so much forgiveness,
is a decision, and I cannot make it.
I am without it, leave me breathless.
Day Nine:
The angel of death waits
He comes for me, but I am running, finding, hiding my inner Nemo in the hands of oxycodon, privileged in the amenities of amphetamines.
I am tired of running!
Haggard.
Take away my hands, my restraints.
Let me feel
again.
Please.
Day Ten:
I am awake.
There is an apple in my field of vision.
Kiss it. Love it.
Take it to hedonism and back again.
But it knows too much.
So tell it everything will be ok.
It lives in epilepsy.
So placate it.
Resurrect my apocalypse.
Jul 31, 2013
Jul 31, 2013 at 8:57 PM UTC
I remember well
The creaking of
One hundred year old
Pine planked floor
And the ticking
Of the 100 year old clock
In my family's old home
Before the highwaymen
Took it with the widening
Of Highway 91
But Mom got her new house
Set back just a little
She loves it and new amenities
At least they didn't steal the barn
Or clock
But I miss the creaking and the ticking
Of my childhood home
On Highway 91
Across from Stoney Creek
My real home
Aug 25, 2013
Aug 25, 2013 at 3:52 PM UTC
Brain waves sway in this cerebral cyclone.
Eating, breathing, bleeding in a home that isn't my home.
Breathing? BREATHING? What are we doing that for?
Abusing and losing. But who's keeping score?
Racing, chasing, running in a circle now.
The same train of thoughts has fallen off the tracks now.
Trying to abide by all your stupid rules now.
Searching for the answers in a mind that's shut downnnnnnn..
Get me out of this new cerebral cyclone.
Ringing! RINGING! That isn't a telephone!
Air-conditioned suppositions and amenities to die for.
View of the pool and a washer-dryer combo.
It's useless to use this scattered brain jumbled mess.
We go from 60 to zero.
But we wear less to impress.
Now we're preparing to pretend that this isn't the end.
When we know that it's time to detonate.
We hear the wind chime now, it's time to unwind now.
But to be thrown off the rocker' s our fate.
Oh, what we'd give for a sweet cerebral cyclone.
Noisy voices in my head, but at least I'm not alone.
Dreaming.. Dreaming... Leave us on the bathroom floor.
Lovely ****** tub with amenities galore.
May 18, 2015
May 18, 2015 at 1:48 PM UTC
5 W's Of The Desert Walker.
WHAT does a man in the heat dream of?
Maybe he dreams of the sweet taste of the rain
What amenities does he seek in a bare sky with only the sun?
He is given an audience with his delusions.
He is granted a moment of peace under his imaginary palm.
He can swim in the dry waters of the oasis till the sand shreds his skin.
WHEN does his vagrant breath retreat?
Maybe as the expired adventure turns to torture?
In a blink his shade diminishes
His view of the horizon brings drought to his tongue
As his fatigue pays homage to the expanding desert.
WHERE does a lost traveler turn when every direction leads nowhere?
Does he look up for divinity?
A panicked man, with his hands to the skies, calls for relief.
But its not the cool he's expecting, its mercy for his soul when his time comes.
WHO does he hear when his eyes begin to fail?
Family, a child, maybe a lover with soft flesh?
Face down in the dunes he can taste the salty blend of the earth.
The voice of his cherished love echoes in his fading consciousness.
A great comfort in his last request.
WHY do we fall down?
Because we're weak and unbalanced.
So we can get back up?
No sometimes we are just not as big as our ego would have us believe.
The road to triumph can be hard to traverse unprepared.
But the value of the experience can be as priceless as the outcome.
-Alexis J. Meighan-
Oct 22, 2012
Oct 22, 2012 at 8:10 PM UTC
High rises burst from soft Earth’s flesh
Was it even ready for us?
From an extraterrestrial’s perspective we’re a disease upon this gentle cerulean Elysium
I’m living in the mouth of duality
I hear it speak as I leave my block and give a peace sign to the abandoned residences in progress
On the block I currently live, the sidewalk is cracked into drunken mazes and yet
Directly across, the neighbors stand upon freshly minted asphalt and into a metropolitan construct made for the modern brain: built in amenities, contemporary textiles and garage parking
Are we next?
To be bought and sold, if so, can we at least have a plan for the residents?
Will tenants be invited to the newborn paradise? We have the budget to feed cement trucks faster than hungry mouths. It’s become a bad habit
yet I sit by the man-made imperfections
hoping someone cares enough to drip their Eden into the palms of my neighbors
If time will tell I’ve been getting quite the silent treatment
Travel a little deeper and….
Cosmopolitan crossroads coexist with beggars and lost folk….
Since when was the speech divided between affluent and broke?
"IDK?" The duality replies
I thought you’d say that.
Aug 4, 2021
Aug 4, 2021 at 6:14 PM UTC
Blind to the truth,
While fed up to the top
Eventually load of my shoulder
As i Glanced at my future ,
Retrieved every note
So i started putting in work.
Eventually , It will pay off
Patience is the key to amenities of life
we glance at death no care for stepping forward
with doubt I gained my benefits
to self assurance.
Jun 23, 2014
Jun 23, 2014 at 10:45 AM UTC
within my own vicinity
i search for simple serenity
tending to my own tendencies
mending without amenities
sick and twisted remedies
a bitter sweet identity
my slit-wristed entities
the enemies of my memories
Aug 19, 2021
Aug 19, 2021 at 12:57 AM UTC
within my own vicinity
i search for simple serenity
tending to my own tendencies
mending without amenities
sick and twisted remedies
a bitter sweet identity
my slit-wristed entities
the enemies of my memories
Aug 19, 2016
Aug 19, 2016 at 10:12 AM UTC
it was the
summer
of 13
when a city
consumed in a
Cronut crazed
heat wave
amped
the tenderloin
slicing the underbelly
of Hell's Kitchen
packing meat for
Russian oligarchs
pouring fistfuls
of petrol rubles
down the
thirsty gullets
of glutinous
developers
their distended
bellies welling
with aching
avarice
from an
extended
stay at an
All You Can Eat
zero interest
smorgasbord
courtesy of
Uncle Sam’s Diner
somewhere off the
West End
getting fat
on the land
reclaimed
and rebuilt
on the dust
and detritus
of an expired
Great Society
Bloomie's metropolis
rising on the rubble
of razed neighborhoods....
the vertical leaps
shooting ever upward
the heady windows
framing portraits
of endless replication
offering the amenities
of the vain comfort
found in ghettos of
soulless high rises
and the billowing
gray perspective
of blanched out
street cafes
brewing $9 lattes
and big box
boutiques busy
busking the
latest rage
of sweat repelling
yoga mats and
wearable apps
America’s Mayor
Giuliani paved the way
he arrested all
the squeegee men
confiscated their Windex
dumped it down
the sewers and filled all
vacancies at Rikers
a year after Sandy
rolled up the Hudson
breaching the banks
of West Street
licking the streets
clean of urban
flotsam the
surging boom
bloomed
Bloomie bankrolled
a red carpet
for his global
fraternity of
plutocrats
unleashing a
tsunami of
shekels
washing away
the fading
memories of
Captain Sully’s
cool headed
lunch pail
heroism proving
that 727’s can
walk on water
was now passe
Lou Reed
left town
the wild side
monetized by
the belching
banality of
Urban Hipsters
millennial
babes in toy land
embarked on an endless
shopping spree
where credit limits
never expire and
giddy narcissism
greased with entitlement
orders up room service
as the next course
in this endless
movable feast
Music Selection
Philip Glass
The Hours
9/8/13
NYC
jbm
Feb 9, 2015
Feb 9, 2015 at 2:50 PM UTC
So many politicians here in
My well-beloved-and-endowed country
Ought about to be donning
A dunce's cap for their foolery.
That we are still as a well-blessed nation
And especially in this 21st century
Here--when many with determination
Have been leaping forward in prosperity
Of their country's soul, body and mind,
Advancing in different walks of life;
While we're yet groping, straining to find
Like a drunk the orifice of his wife--
Is shameful. Amenities are a far cry;
The well-being of the populace be yet
Poor; maternal mortality rate is high,
Besides other diseases that cause death.
Politicians vain many a title flattering
Love, as well as to be singing their praises
For doing and achieving less than nothing,
When plenty souls daily poverty dire face.
To other well-marshalled countries do travel
They and see how things there be better run.
I, like many, wherefore do often marvel,
Why they can't situation around goodly turn.
The monies in Nigeria that are being looted
Be beyond sufficient to fix the decaying
And nonexistent infrastructures. Well rooted
Is corruption, the chief cause of our pains harrowing.
Apr 30, 2012
Apr 30, 2012 at 2:46 AM UTC
Concrete walls
Solid foundations
High-rises
Rarefied air
Epic elevations
Cornered lives
Distant views
Modern amenities
Unaware neighbors
Plush condominiums
Soft beds
Weary eyes
Deprived of sleep
Lonely hearts
Sleeping pills
Soothes nerves
No dreams
Only hallucinations
Constant fear
Of going down
Alien grounds
Will reclaim
May 19, 2015
May 19, 2015 at 9:54 AM UTC
I live in Chemical Valley.
It sounds horrible:
Better you than me.
Perhaps.
I grew up here,
Where the southern sky burns
Bloodstone red,
Mixing colours with the evening suns.
The St. Clair carries Huron's ghostly horns
Past the flaring refineries,
To Detroit's waters.
We have stop signs
And other amenities
Small cities are proud to maintain.
I heard the housing market
Is sustained on the divorce rate,
And not the petro-chemical industry;
We're closing another high school next year;
And there was a gruesome woodlot-rape/murder
Last week on the Reserve.
Maniacs living out some sick web-site.
But the soccer pitches are full,
And our Mayor is the longest serving one in Canada.
Just around the corner
(everything is just around the corner),
Our flag flies over the bones of our second Prime Minister,
(he's from Edinburgh, Scotland);
I've walked a good stretch of the fifty miles
Of beach we have running north,
Past cottages, parks, camps, etc.
We've way too many pot-holes;
And for many years,
We were featured on the ten dollar bill.
But the new houses!
Who is buying them as we move eastward,
Away from the lake and river?
Newly minted single moms;
Rejected men.
We lived in one house,
Once,
One house.
We now occupy five.
Two of which
Are too far away
From Chemical Valley.
Apr 26, 2016
Apr 26, 2016 at 10:22 PM UTC
Deluded kid
How does the steel feel
Tightly biting your blistered wrists
Were you prodded or pushed
To your hard, lonely bed for the night
With the only amenities being down time and
A mirror in which you may contemplate how far you've fallen
These ***** walls are reserved for fools who confuse
And exalt their own pithy ideals of love
Over and above the real thing
Easy as that is to do
You've really done it this time
So you'd better guard your heart
Though it's almost turned into ******
Hear me
When they open that door
And tell you it's time to leave
Turn your nose to the south
Take measured steps and follow it
Into the badlands of Mexico
Don't turn back, no, not even once
For if you return
I will stretch your death out so long you'll beg me
For swifter justice
Deluded kid, your game is up
Remember this week as the most mischievous of your life
And as days in which you made the biggest mistakes of your life
Mistakes that will eventually cost you your life
Deluded kid, soon you will be enlightened
Deluded no more
Apr 29, 2015
Apr 29, 2015 at 1:28 AM UTC
I'm barely at home
There's my wooden furniture
These my plates of chrome
A fridge full of nourishment
My marble dome
But I'm barely at home
I've barely a hearth
This a room of my choosing
That there my land on earth
My book shelf for musing
Amenities for mirth
But barely a hearth
Sep 22, 2019
Sep 22, 2019 at 11:49 AM UTC
My imagination, no limitation.
I welcome in positive vibration.
My brain is a grand central station.
Swept away like the waves, call me vacation.
A notion about waves in the ocean:
They travel across continents, in a constant motion.
Watch the power approaching.
Realize the wave is one energy,
That never lost its devotion.
I welcome in new positive energies
Like amenities, a necessity.
I'm an attorney attesting on
Life's incredible journey.
Join me, but warning; I prefer soaring.
My torus is lush as forest.
Living like an alien tourist.
I insist on artistic visions to guide me,
Not living for pride or vanity.
I'm just a human, grooving, celebrating earth inside of me.
Chiming on with Nature's charm.
Living my life, devoid of harm.
I can do this a lifetime long,
With nothing to lose, none to alarm.
I wear a badge of peace upon my arm.
Feb 11, 2016
Feb 11, 2016 at 11:03 PM UTC
A house perched
On solid foundation
Provides shelter for a generation.
Homes aren't made of brittle bricks,
Wanning woods or crumbling stones;
You can't raze a well-built home.
A divided house will not stand,
A listing castle on shifting sands.
The peaks, dales and family travails,
At home are not abnormal,
They're common and diurnal;
Yet the undaunted home prevails.
Your house comprises various rooms
For eating, sleeping, and mundane routines.
Homes furnish rooms with smiles and tears,
And gatherings throughout your years,
To be shared or on one's own,
The choice is offered,
You're not alone.
Houses grow proud, though gratifying,
With amenities truly satisfying.
Homes swell with smells of love,
The sounds of children snug above,
A sense that all is safe and sure;
This day has given more than enough.
Houses get tidied, cleaned and aired,
Decorated for special affairs;
Homes are fingers, toes and hair,
Hampers, dishes, and underwear.
Its doors lead to who knows where.
Doors to let you out;
Doors to let me hear
When you're back again;
Welcoming your return.
Homes fill us
With memories
Houses never will.
Jan 12, 2017
Jan 12, 2017 at 8:14 AM UTC
Upon those streets the blood did run
children playing having fun.
The soldiers came cold and callous
their hearts filled with malice.
Nobody was immune no mercy shown
seeds of hatred were sown!
That day was but another in their fight
to see the next morning light.
Food a luxury all amenities destroyed
with their lives the army toyed.
Oppression and misery all they knew
surely a reason they were due.
The bombs rained down on the meek
their bodies increasingly weak.
Resistance grew the houses crumbled
and the ground rumbled.
Their faith through adversity not shaken
though many loved ones taken!
This scenario has forever been repeated
their spirit can never be defeated.
Nothing changes in the history of mankind
always the aggressors and maligned.
Centuries have passed the coffins filled
forever the innocent killed!
The Foureyed Poet.
Dec 26, 2012
Dec 26, 2012 at 8:56 AM UTC
If we only have this life, you get me through
Never met many so genuine; only a few
If we've only got this life
Then this adventure oh then I
Shall share it with you for your amenities
Your heart in mine is the ultimate proximity
She's endured my pain for so long
She's a never ending loop of your favorite song
{Set II: Brandon}
Even if our hymns fall flat
The fact that I saved her from splat
I made her believe again
Even then I can be that ultimate friend
She needed to know genuine still exists
Her smile brings back dreams I reminisce
You want an MVP in your relationship
To help patch the ship and sail for companionship
|INTERLUDE|
Crystal is the pearl
Sent to me as a guide
Easy to tell what I confide
The Emerald Girl
Feb 3, 2016
Feb 3, 2016 at 8:23 PM UTC
The wheel of fortune has spun our way,
we’re on Spring-break for 8 more days!
The transition to leisure was as smooth as oil,
without classes, he’s just a guy and I’m his girl.
For three weeks we’ll have had the suite to ourselves,
it has all the amenities, it’s like a hotel.
We’ve never been together, alone, for so long before,
it’s so deliciously heterodox, it’s like a reward.
Peter (my BF) observed, “This will be a reality check.”
Yeah, he’s a hopeless romantic.
“Sorry sir,” I said, “It's my policy not to cash reality checks.”
Mar 18, 2023
Mar 18, 2023 at 2:31 PM UTC
Nefertari
Amenities of the African lands
Indigenous black beautiful roses
Of the African soil
Dark and strong
In a black alluring archaic vogue
an amara in black woman
Sisters of samandzie
Balleting in a black dulcet rhythm
Of the African ancient song
With an
Idrissa desta
The power of Thee
Black Spiritus mundi
Brown eyes, Thick bones
Curly ***** afros
Dark is deep and strong
An authentic unique beauty of nature
Glows and Flourishing
From deep within
I like it black and strong
Dec 14, 2015
Dec 14, 2015 at 6:51 AM UTC