"aron" poems
Kon wa nay gugma nga mahikaplagan ko
nganha sa pagsubang sa adlaw sa kabuntagon,
dili angay gayud nga ako, ikaw mao ang basolon
kay anaa man gud ang kasaypanan kanako.
Ako ang kapakyasan sa mga matam-is **** damgo
ug usab usa ka uyamot nga gani gipaminsar mo,
ang dila ko man nagasulapid sa imong gipamulong
kon mao na kini ang kaputlanan, ako nga dawaton.
Kon wa nay gugma nga mahikaplagan ko,
gikan sa kasing-kasing **** gayud mapaubsanon,
dili angay sa imo ibasol mga kaluhaan
kay ang tunhay nga kalipay wa mo natagamtaman.
Apan ang kagahapon pagahatagan sa pag-amping nako
aron di mawagtang bidlisiw sa paghinigugmaay nato,
wala mo man namatyagan mga pag-antos ko karon
ikaw gihapon, biskan wa nay gugma nga mahikaplagan ko.
Apr 9, 2012
Apr 9, 2012 at 6:33 AM UTC
Niadto ko, nibisita sa lugar
Kon asa mi una nagkita;
Mao ra japon,
Ang mga kahoy ug mga bulak
Nagasambit sa among gugma
Nga hain pa man dili gayod mawala.
Siya akong tunhay nga kalipay
Sa pagmata ko matag-buntag,
Tunhay nga kasingkasing
Sa iyaha, akong ginapamatyag.
Nikuha ko ug papel,
Aron magsulat ug balak para kaniya;
Maot man paminawon, apan
Akong buhaton nga patsyada.
Nitan-aw ko sa blanko nga papel,
Naghuna-huna,
Ug sa dihang nakahinumdum hinuon ko,
Unsaon man diay nako pagsulat sa balak;
Nga ang bolpen iya man diay’ng gidala,
Adtong minglakaw na siya ug una.
Sep 15, 2012
Sep 15, 2012 at 2:33 AM UTC
Gusto ko nga masanag sama sa bulan,
sa ilawom sa langit nga gabii nagadan-ag ako.
Nahibal-an nako nga kini nga mga pangandoy matuman sa dili madugay.
Gihangyo ko nga kini nga mga pangandoy dili magpadayon ingon usa ka damgo.
Usa ako ka buhi nga tawo nga adunay katuyoan
alang sa matag gagmay nga mga butang nga akong nakita mao ang katahum.
Aron makab-ot ang akong katuyoan ang akong gipunting,
Akong atubangon kini nga mga hagit nga maisugon.
Akong kuptan og maayo
ug dili igsapayan kung unsa ang gihunahuna sa katilingban.
Basta nagbuhat ako og maayo,
Hatagan ra ko sila og kindat.
Kay nahibal-an ko nga makab-ot ko ang akong mga katuyoan someday,
Malipayon ako sa bisan unsang paagi.
Dec 4, 2020
Dec 4, 2020 at 10:41 AM UTC
Sa akong paglatagaw daw akong kinabuhi wala pa natagbaw.
Nikamang, ninglangoy, nilupad ug nalakaw lakaw.
Aron tagamtamon ang katam-is sa gugma na akong gihanduraw.
Asa naman ka? Naara ko dali ayaw kaulaw.
Ningkuha ug kusog sa uban, nag too na dili sila mobiya.
Nangandoy sama nako na dili na meng duha moluha.
Naghinigugmaay, ug nagpasalig na mogunit sa matag takna.
Apan asa naman, wala na, nibiya na ug kalit ra na nawala.
Giloom ang kasakit niining dughan, kiagwanta ug gidawat ang tanan.
Na sa gugma wala koy swerte, malas maoy ingon sa uban.
Natingala, nangutana, na sa kadaghan sa tao niining kalibutan, nganong ako paman?
Naa ra man diay ka. Nagpaabot ba ka? O gihatag ka sa Ginoo para sa akoa?
Ginahandom na makit.an nako ang tinood na pasabot sa gugma.
Ginaampo, ug ako kanimo nagahangyo na akong paglantaw kanimo palihog dawata.
Tagaan unta ko nimog higayon na magkauban pa tang duha.
Mar 24, 2020
Mar 24, 2020 at 11:25 PM UTC
Inday unom na katuig ang nilabay
sa dihang nahikagplagan tika milabay sa balay
sa handumanan ko nahipatik ang katahom sa imong hulagway
may mga panahon sa kasing2x og damgo ko imong kaanyag mobisita gamay
Karon dili masukod ang kalipay sa dihang nagkaila ta
Adunay panahon magkachat ta lingaw sige kog katawa
sa dihang nakahibalo naka sa tinuod og naglagot ka sa akoa
maayo man ng makahibalo ka sa tinuod samtang sayo pa
Kung moabot ang panahon mosugot na ka magdate ta
Por syur ako man jud ng gasto more pa
be conscious lang sa imong dayet aron conscious pud ko sa akong bulsa
kung cge na ta det2x chippy og tubig na lang gani ang order para natong duha
pasabot KKB nalang ta sunod, salamat sa pagsabot hap...
og kung ugaling dili na jud nimo maagwanta imo nakong sugton
ayaw kabalaka ipanaad ko imong gugma akong amumahon
sa kanunay ikaw akong panggaon sa mga gakus ko ikaw akong prisohon
tanan nimong gusto akong buhaton imong mga sugo akong tumanon
Og kung imo naman gali kong sugoon sa merkado
pwede ayaw pud ko paalsaha og bugas isa ka sako
basin og tungod sa kabug-at di nako makaya makaigit ko
kung pwede lang unta kilo kiloha pud na og mahimo.
Apr 11, 2015
Apr 11, 2015 at 5:07 AM UTC
Kini kataw-anan kung giunsa nga gipasagdan ang mga butang,
Kini nga bililhon nga kinabuhi; tam-is kaayo, halangdon kaayo,
Giunsa mawala ang matag segundo,
Bisan pa ang tanan nga adunay gyud kanato mao ang oras.
Unya unsa man kung kalit nga nawala kini?
Unsa man kung mohunong ang pagsubang sa adlaw?
Komosta kung nahurot na ang imong oras?
Mahulog ba ang usa ka luha gikan sa hingpit nga mga mata?
Lisud kini nga hatagan kahusay,
Sa tanan nga mga pagbati nga gibabagan namon,
Pagsulay ra sa paghunahuna sa uban pa,
Padayon nga nagtan-aw sa orasan.
Nakakatawa kung giunsa nga gipasagdan ang mga butang,
Kini nga bililhon nga kinabuhi, pamilya ug mga higala,
Bisan kung makita mo sila adlaw-adlaw,
Unsa ang mahinabo sa pag-abut naton sa katapusan?
Talagsaon ang mga tawo nga nahimamat,
Ug kung unsa ang ilang reaksyon sa balita,
Ang uban nangalagiw, bisan ang uban magpabilin,
Ang uban magsaulog, o makuha ang mga blues.
Apan ang matag usa magbag-o sa imong kinabuhi,
Ug ang labing kaayo magpabilin sa imong tapad,
Hatagan ka mga gakos, magpadayon nga okupado ka,
Kana ang mga tinuod.
Nakakatawa kung giunsa nga gipasagdan ang mga butang,
Kini nga bililhon nga kinabuhi, dili sigurado,
Sa yano, kini ang damgo sa matag usa,
Aron adunay usa ka butang nga luwas ug luwas.
Aron mahimamat ang Usa, mabuang ang gugma,
Minyo ug magsugod usa ka pamilya,
Tingali dili kini ingon ka daghan,
Apan kana nga damgo hinungdanon kanako.
Kini usa ka damgo nga kanunay nakong gitinguha,
Usa nga nahadlok ako nga tingali dili makakita kahayag,
Kay wala kini gisaad sa bisan kinsa sa aton,
Bisan, alang kanako, husto ang pamati niini.
Dili ako sigurado kung unsa na kadugay ako nga nahabilin dinhi sa yuta,
Ug kung kini ang katapusan nga higayon nga akong nakuha,
Gusto nakong ibilin kini nga timaan,
Aron dili ka makalimtan tanan.
Kung unsa ang kahulugan sa matag usa kanako,
Dili gyud ko makalusot,
Kung dili tungod sa kalainan nga nahimo,
Sa matag usa sa inyo.
Nakakatawa kung giunsa nga gipasagdan ang mga butang,
Kini bililhon nga kinabuhi, matam-is kaayo, Halangdon kaayo,
Giunsa mawala ang matag segundo,
Bisan pa ang tanan nga adunay gyud kanato mao ang oras.
Palihug ayaw kalimti ang regalo nga gihatag kanimo,
Ang abilidad sa pagkatawa, higugmaon ug mabuhi,
Ayaw buhii ang gihigugma nimo,
Ipakita sa ila ang tanan nga gugma nga mahimo nimong mahatag.
Hinumdomi ako sa umaabot nga mga tuig,
Sa diha nga napildi ako sa away ug kinahanglan moadto,
Daghang salamat sa mga butang nga imong nahimo,
Apan ang oras, nagdumili kini aron mahinay.
Kini kataw-anan, kung giunsa ang pagkuha sa mga butang alang sa gihatag,
Kini nga bililhon nga kinabuhi, ang mga butang nga imong nakita,
Giunsa ang yano nga pagpanaw sa matag segundo,
Ug oras; ang oras nawala na alang kanako.
Feb 23, 2021
Feb 23, 2021 at 9:29 PM UTC
Ako aduna’y pangutana
Ikaw ba kay nagpakabana?
Kahibalo naman ko sa imong tubag,
‘Di na jud diay madala ug lubag?
Mura bituon sa kalangitan
Taas kaayo ka, ‘di jud maabtan
Kung aduna ko'y pako aron makalupad,
Makasturya pa ba ka o makabalibad?
Sep 20, 2019
Sep 20, 2019 at 11:24 AM UTC
Dili na mapugngan ang gugma
dughan nato wa na nag duha-duha
gikalimtan na ang kaugalingon
andam ihatag ang tanan sa imo
Basta naay ikaw ug ako
Ang selos dili gyud mapugngan
Bisag walay man tay hinungdan
oh Pagsabot raman ang kinahanglan
Aron atong gugma way katapusan
Basta naay ikaw ug ako
Lantaw na makalanay
Nangurog sa kalipay
Dugay ko ng gihandom
nga ikaw akong maangkon
(Ayaw unta paasaha
Kining akong gugma
Kanunay gahandom
Bisag way pag laom)
Basta naay ikaw ug ako
(Lantaw na makalanay
Nangurog sa kalipay)
Basta naay ikaw ug ako
(Dugay ko ng gihandom
basta ikaw maangkon)
Aug 18, 2018
Aug 18, 2018 at 4:48 AM UTC
When words are not enough,
and the world won’t get off her back,
she dances the Devils way,
She’s a princess,
wait she’s a queen,
wait she’s an angel,
wait she’s everything,
a Goddess,
the hottest performing artist I’ve ever seen,
and she’s dancing,
dancing is her therapy,
I mean,
I’m not James Brown,
but it’s a man’s world,
even if Rihanna runs this town,
See,
she’s been suppressed all her life,
and I’m not just talking about Rihanna,
I’m talking about every girl that was ever forced to be a wife,
just to survive in this life,
she was touched by her father,
or brother or cousin,
when she was just a little girl,
I know we all wish it wasn’t,
but it is true,
so what’s a girl to do,
when she’s a clean 13 messing with The ***** Dozen,
this isn’t battle of the sexes,
this is war of the worlds,
wants to be a woman but she’s just a girl,
no No Doubt just burnt out nerves taken turns,
she never asked to be born,
with the burden of being beautiful,
but she refuses to conform,
she is attractable irrational and radical,
so when it’s all too much,
the stares and the catcalls,
the aggressive forceful touch,
the nails across her back like a blackboard,
and the moans become just white noise,
she takes it all in,
she forgives the man because he’s just a boy,
he is an angel even if he has fallen,
she takes it all in,
and she uses all of those abuses,
as the fuel with the tools which induces,
an allusive state of truth which,
allows her to move with intuitive smoothness,
and lose herself in the music morphing into what a centrifuge is,
separating fluids transforming what was otherwise useless abuses,
into a truth that cruises and confuses the stupid stooges,
she dances,
in a statement of glorious refusal to submit to their ideals,
she is more than a princess queen angel goddess,
she is fire burning up all preconceived notions of *** appeal,
the real deal,
dancing sweating cleansing her soul and her pores,
moving faster in progression refuting repression,
overcoming an obsession of oppression and knocking down all doors,
she is not a possession,
though she is possessed when,
she’s a dancing expression of how we all feel and more,
no words are enough,
she shows what we all feel,
she reveals what,
was before thinly concealed,
she is the perfect expression,
of imperfect circumstances,
she is poetic stanzas,
she is the paint on the canvas,
there is no question that she is the answer,
and all of this is made clear when she takes it all in,
let’s go of everything and dances…
∆aron L∆ Lux ∆
#strength #metoo #dancer #ballet #blackswan
Jun 7, 2018
Jun 7, 2018 at 1:48 PM UTC
Siya ang nagahatag ug kahayag
aron ako 'di mag-inusara ug masaag.
sa mga malangitngiton kong mga dalan
andam niyang saw-on ang tanan
gikan sa'kong pagkabut-an paubos sa'kong pagkakiatan.
Sa masubo niyang kahimtang
nga magtrabaho ug taman
para lang mahapsay ang tulog namong tanan.
Ug mahitungod kini tanan sa pinalangga kong amahan.
Jun 20, 2020
Jun 20, 2020 at 10:17 PM UTC
Makamingaw ang makabungol nga kahilom sa probinsya,
sa dihang magpaduyan ka'g pahayahay sa may punong mangga,
samtang naminaw ug nagpatukar sa gubaon nga radyo ni lola.
Nagpainit sa silaw sa adlaw,
kainit nga mulimpyo sa utok kong hugaw,
sa hangin, mukuyog ako ug sayaw.
aron musilip ang mga panganod nga akong ginahidlaw.
Nov 17, 2020
Nov 17, 2020 at 7:00 PM UTC
The year was nineteen forty six, the memories still raw,
Europe’s Jews were still encamped as they had been before.
True, they now had food to eat and decent clothes to wear,
But in that Displaced Persons camp, little else to spare.
When Lilly told her fiancé about her dream one night;
her standing beneath the chuppah in a flowing gown of white,
Ludwig promised Lilly that her vision would come true,
but in a displaced person’s camp that might be hard to do.
A former Luftwaffe pilot proved an angel in disguise;
Ludwig traded, for his parachute, some coffee and supplies.
Miriam, the seamstress, swore to do her best
to fashion the silk parachute into a wedding dress.
Some miles from Bergen Belsen lies the little town of Celle
Its desecrated synagogue would serve the couple well.
They made an Aron Kodesh from a kitchen cabinet
A Rabbi, flown from England, would officiate their fete.
Lilly’s gown was beautiful, the bride felt like a Queen
Within the battered synagogue, her wedding matched her dream.
Miriam’s creation would be worn by many more;
Girls from camp made brides in white that year after the war.
The Gown’s in a museum now, the bride now old and gray.
She lives nearby in Brooklyn in a house down by the bay.
Her lovely great granddaughter, her loving heart’s delight,
now has the dream of being wed in a gown of flowing white.
Dec 14, 2014
Dec 14, 2014 at 10:46 AM UTC
O Titser! My Titser!
Dughan kong naglatagaw sa tibuok adlaw
nahibalik sa paglantaw sa agtang **** hayag kaayo musinaw,
Ug sa dihang nisulod kas eskwelahan, ikaw ra gayod ang nag inusarang kahayag na akong nakit-an.
Pangalan mo palang, mupitik na'g kadali ang akong dughan.
Kung gali magleksyon ka dira sa atubangan, sa'kong hunahuna, hagbay na tikang gipakaslan.
O Titser! My Titser!
Pinalangga kong katingalahang maestra
Hangtud kunus-a paman ko maghulat
na ikaw gayod ma-akoa?
Tagda ning kasingkasing sa usa ka magbabalak
Paminawa kining mga hilak sa akong mga gitagik na mga balak
gugmang tinuod, 'di gayod kini bakak.
Isa ko ka estudyanteng bugoy, pero ayg kabalaka, apil nakas akong mga pangandoy.
Dira sa simbahan, sa fuente, sa mango, ug bisag asa maabot, nganli ko'g lugar, atoa nang isuroy.
O Titser! My Titser!
Pinalangga kong gwapang maestra,
nganong 'di man jud tika ma akoa?
andam ko pang abton mga bituon,
mamupo'g tambis sa kabuntagon,
unsa pamay laing dapat nakong buhaton?
aron ang tam-is **** paghigugma ako dayung maangkon.
Feb 20, 2020
Feb 20, 2020 at 5:22 AM UTC
I let myself drown asunder
Ignorance is bliss?
Or is it hum durgeon?
Do not utter the sage in you
Nor shun;
Let me lull
For today I unfurl my placid eyes
And let my drowsiness drift
Away from these snollygosters
Let these destined tides sweep through me
Whilst I gently rise,
From the ocean of rage, I rise
Drifting through notes of gentle souls
Amid these crimson glistening waves,
I bleed among roars
Whilst shores sway with sounds of tabret,
And skies dance in nacarat,
For never it welcomed; Redness,
Such unsullied, such stainless
Time hath gone, of Abel and Aron
Yet altercation wanders amongst age’s heron
Time hath gone, of forgiveness and mercy
For today, lines are re-drawn
The goodness is not your goodness
Nor dare ascertain, the mischief and nuisance
Tis but what divinely revealed
Is benevolence..
Today I unsheathed Tutankhamun’s dagger,
Today I stand against savageness
Today I paint my hands in color of mercilessness
Dec 28, 2014
Dec 28, 2014 at 2:22 PM UTC
On the wheels, I whirl, I spin, I move
Clouds too whirl, then darkness spins
A lightning bolt, then the deafening sound,
Then it pours,
N the fire flies go dim
I dont amble, I dont whisk
Opening my hand, gawking above, I dont decline
Three winks! Drenched n detached from the me wrenching myself,
I wheel as "The Lance Armstrong"
Heavy pours invite a stroll
Cats and Dogs pouring down dismay Rats, ROFL!
Oust as Prince Zuko, I stroll
Surrendering myself to the Zephyr
Same trail but with ****** looks
Hypnotic green, drenched, raise me to the Oblivion
Shimmering in the distant are two dim lights
N I ***** like " The Supertramp"
Beginning of the ultimate inception, I touch
Extending my arms to the cries of sky
Dont know the destination of this alley
Trying to think what 'm anticipating
Though without any charge on my shoulders
Flickering in the near distant are two lights
I hike as " The Aron"
'm I tears, I dont know
Even the silence has sulked
Nothing's in my head
Green n Brown, Pink n Purple hues
Repose the folioles, within
Distant lights are passing by now
I stride as " The me"
To the Aisle,
where birds peep, cheep, chirp, quaver, tweet n warble
From the stroll to the stride
's a short walk of hues n blues
The fringes have passed by
Arena's clear n so 'm I.
Sep 3, 2016
Sep 3, 2016 at 7:10 PM UTC
The Red Sea! It lay like a distressed soul, unsettled, deserted and restless;
On its tile-paved shore, I leant against a lamp post, in the desert land;
Women in burkas busied themselves with their kids and picnic baskets;
While cats searched voraciously, among the rubble, for the left over bones.
On my left lay Sanaa, the once upon a time city of Shem, first-born of Noah,
Whence Queen Sheba embarked in all majesty with gifts for King Solomon.
And far, beyond the saltiest swelling Red, lay the darkly exploited continent.
Now, a warm gust of wind slogged its way into my lone distraught self.
Tides heaved, flickered their wet tongues across the rubble, and licked me,
Then withdrew themselves tired, but again and again returned half-heartedly
With much salty tears and sweats of ******* and sufferings of bygone ages:
The assorted agonies of the Mediterranean, the Indian and the Pacific deeps.
Through the dull splashes, waded to me, Moses and Aron and the Pharaoh;
They said: “Visitor, listen to the voices of the depths!” And I heard well
The abysmal rattle of chariots, wheels and bones, uncarbontestably ancient.
And in the splash of the Red, I scarily tasted the tears and blood of torments.
Then they cautioned me: “Beware of the pseudo-democrats and pseudo-reds:
The gunpowder brokers!” and quoted: “In this world, you’ll have troubles.”
And now, the Sea sounded: “Sorry my dear son, I’m here to bear all these.”
I sighed in pain, but the Sea, through the burning lamp posts, smiled at me.
Nov 16, 2013
Nov 16, 2013 at 1:27 AM UTC
The Red Sea! It lay like a distressed soul, unsettled, deserted and restless;
On its tile-paved shore, I leant against a lamp post, in the desert land;
Women in burkas busied themselves with their kids and picnic baskets;
While cats searched voraciously, among the rubble, for the left over bones.
On my left lay Sanaa, the once upon a time city of Shem, first-born of Noah,
Whence Queen Sheba embarked in all majesty with gifts for King Solomon.
And far, beyond the saltiest swelling Red, lay the darkly exploited continent.
Now, a warm gust of wind slogged its way into my lone distraught self.
Tides heaved, flickered their wet tongues across the rubble, and licked me,
Then withdrew themselves tired, but again and again returned half-heartedly
With much salty tears and sweats of ******* and sufferings of bygone ages:
The assorted agonies of the Mediterranean, the Indian and the Pacific deeps.
Through the dull splashes, waded to me, Moses and Aron and the Pharaoh;
They said: “Visitor, listen to the voices of the depths!” And I heard well
The abysmal rattle of chariots, wheels and bones, uncarbontestably ancient.
And in the splash of the Red, I scarily tasted the tears and blood of torments.
Then they cautioned me: “Beware of the pseudo-democrats and pseudo-reds:
The gunpowder brokers!” and quoted: “In this world, you’ll have troubles.”
And now, the Sea sounded: “Sorry my dear son, I’m here to bear all these.”
I sighed in pain, but the Sea, through the burning lamp posts, smiled at me.
Dec 23, 2013
Dec 23, 2013 at 8:53 AM UTC
Abraham's Youth
I'm white,
and Jewish,
and American,
but I,
refuse to,
be scared again,
let's let the truth be our teacher,
for I don't want war either,
and they say Jews and Arabs,
have been fighting each other,
for thousands of years,
but we are all brothers,
we bleed the same blood,
share the same father,
we both want a future of peace,
for our daughters,
I doubt Abraham,
would've wanted it this way,
for his children,
to fight instead of play,
our Father,
would surely be upset,
if he was looking,
down from up there,
so I don't buy,
the propaganda they're selling,
for if true,
history is to be telling,
Jews and Arabs,
lived in harmony,
underneath,
the shade of olive trees,
In Jerusalem,
kids studied together,
good books,
academic endeavors,
for,
hundreds of years,
without,
hate or fear,
only,
love in our hearts,
until,
politics tore us apart…
In 1948,
the U.N. stepped in,
with their laws,
imperial rule and nuclear weapons,
divide and conquer,
Western Machiavellian,
tactics,
let me ask this,
is Damascas the axis,
where Abraham's ********
practice black magic withcraft?
The fact is,
the Baptist,
the false profit priest,
praying to the beast,
left the light,
then mixed up the good book,
to make wrong seem right,
left to right,
they rewrote the Bible backwards,
they subtracted good,
and added bad words,
they say it's prayer,
but it's really evil practice,
fkcn sorcerer magicians,
rabbit in a hat tricks,
but instead of a rabbit,
they pull out a dove,
"Look,
we've capitalized off love!",
or at least,
the thought of it,
"here, buy lots of it!"
"Don't worry you'll be fine!"
I don't feel fine,
I feel like I'm,
losing touch,
with divine…
So I shout with my heart, W
here Is The LOVE!
Come here my Brothers,
give me a hug!
Put down the guns,
let us embrace,
let us pray together,
let us have some faith,
Isaac,
Ishmael,
we are one family,
let us,
bless us,
all of us actually,
let us,
break bread,
and have peace,
from the,
West Coast,
to The Middle East,
this is,
a New World,
in The Old City,
We've had,
enough war,
we need some peace,
As-Salaam Alaikum,
Wa-Alaikum Salaam,
Words of the Torah,
and the Koran,
Shalom,
Salaam,
open heart,
open palms,
from out of the dark ages,
we are the New Dawn,
rising above,
with hope,
and with love,
let there,
be peace,
let there,
be peace...
∆aron L∆ Lux ∆
Dec 6, 2017
Dec 6, 2017 at 1:49 AM UTC
The matchmaker man left milk instead
of bread again and I fear
his mission ending on my porch
suggested remorse for his debt,
and his fear deep down of what's in my head.
Taking the milk jars inside, no bread
or way to light my fires,
of course,
a short brittle reprise from what i see is no surprise
the fire has been dead for me so long now
the matchboy has grown and possibly forgotten
his tired losses and ill-gotten
gains at my expense and detriment, yet I
have little sentiment and even less design
on his bread and matches for naught
of nightly cries and warehouse thoughts
in my rolling brain waves of reclusive nut grains
just bits of food to feed this lanky frame
is not enough for me
or eternal enough for us
his hunger impaling me, my whole, a game?
I consider it with a glass of milk for my kitty,
a ******** reminder of the world outside me,
a challenge to out-decide
a riddle or maybe a small coincidence
in a series of incidents
cascading in an order
of shorter and shorter endurance
and more disorder, first in betrayal
and ending in a chaotic hailstorm
of fear, dread, remorse and debt ...
I am saying that I am no matter
what begets at my front door, regret,,,,,?
Another telegram from a war torn hell?
and it might as well
come to me in that way
because the things my brain conjures
on silent Mondays, or will it be sympatico
that knocks on my door like a
redheaded woodpecker bangs?
Jun 2, 2014
Jun 2, 2014 at 1:22 AM UTC
There she is again,
accompanied,
by orangish lines of sunshine,
flowing,
along her face her form crystalline.
There she is again,
appearing as a vision does,
when one's searching for the soul,
beautifully majestical,
wild as the wind that blows,
many try but none are identical,
she is utterly unique,
a kindred spirit,
I am in awe at something so great,
I am both intrigued and I fear it,
like the appearance of a mighty Blue Whale,
when in the deep blue and you swim near it,
I desire to communicate in communion,
with the essence of her spirit,
it feels like a first time reunion,
yet I fear my words will be incoherent,
what words can I say to her,
how does one speak to God?
Translations,
are inadequate,
she is,
a living Angelic Artifact,
all of that…
And I think all of this,
as she passes by,
I,
wish,
there were more than mere words,
for she is more than mere mortal,
let us light up in brilliant light,
then blast off into the portal,
magical,
sensational,
inspirational,
gravitational,
she is the source,
of all inspiration,
she can keep one on course,
or lose one's concentration,
these are all thoughts I think,
as she draws near,
I better think of something to say quick,
before she forever disappears…
∆aron L∆ Lux ∆
Nov 7, 2017
Nov 7, 2017 at 9:46 PM UTC
Everytime i feel the urge to commit suicide ,
I try to feel how a dead person is to us when ***** comits suicide.
When someone comits suicide
That person become a dead body to us within hours, just a cold insensible body and faded memory in days .
Time fly's like wind in a hurricane .
Try to think this from the point of that person who want to commit suicide .
How lazy and slow his days are ... Passing every hour for him is like slicing own arm that is pinned beneath an 800 pounds boulder !!
No numbing medicine . unimaginable pain
Not everyone is "Aron Ralston"
But everyone should posses his courage.
You can't live in your mind and expect you'll be saved .
Reality requires emotional resilience .
And pain demands to be felt .
You can endure all things by grace. !!!
Sep 16, 2020
Sep 16, 2020 at 4:45 PM UTC
God Ordained Moses to Lead Israel Out of Egypt
Moses was out for a leisure walk and saw a fire
and upon taking a closer look at what was burning,
he was greatly surprised to discover a bush was on
fire, but was not being consumed. As he stood wondering at it, a voice boomed out of it, saying, "TAKE OFF YOUR SHOES! YOU ARE STANDING ON SACRED GROUND!"
As Moses was taking off his shoes, the voice continued speaking:" I am the God of your father,
of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob. I have been listening to
the prayers of my people in Egypt, and see the affliction upon them from their taskmasters, and am moved by their sorrows. I am going to rescue them
from the slavery of the Egyptians and lead them to a land of milk and honey.
Moses, I have chosen you to go talk to the Pharoah of Egypt and lead my people, the children of Israel out of Egypt"
And Moses said, "I am greatly honored that you think enough of me for such a worthy responsibility,
but I am not your man for such a task. For one thing
I am not a good talker, and besides that I am slow of speech."
God replied to Moses
"Moses" said God "Throw down your rod on the ground." And Moses did as God told him, and his
rod became a snake. "Now pick it up by it's tail" And when Moes did so, the snake returned into Moses rod.
Then God spoke again to Moses saying, " Now put your hand under your shirt." And when he pulled his hand out, it was white with leprously. "Now return your hand, which Moss did and when Moses drew his hand back out, it was as healthy as his other hand.
"Now Moses, if my people will not follow you by
these signs, dip some water from the river and pour some on the ground and it shall turn into blood."
But Moses still was not convinced he was the man for the task God was calling him to do.
He began making excuses why he was not God's man for the task.
"I am not eloquent"
"I am not a speaker"
"I studder when I talk"
"Th e leaders of Israel will not believe me"
God had an answer for every excuse Moses came up with.
He recruited Aron, Moses's brother, to convey to Moses His
words to tell Israel and Pharaoh.
Feb 18, 2022
Feb 18, 2022 at 6:58 AM UTC
Once Aron was born in France, in Paris,
In an official family as Franςois- Marie.
A literary world was closer to his
Soul. Don’t confuse him with Walter that’s Henri.
He began his literary path in aristocrats’
House, covering with mockery, satires—
For this then he joined the number of expats,
His annual income was twenty thousand Lires.
He did live in England for three years
Never to be forgotten, studying poems, prose.
But then Voltaire belonged to that sort of persons
Who could not find his moorage in Britain, of course.
And thus he lived: wandering, returning,
France’s spirit lured him as before. He was
So tired for many years of wandering,
And bought the estate in Geneva’s outskirts.
And Voltaire settled there living in
Boarding- houses off noble ladies, nobles’
All kinds, his income was grey, although he knew laws,
And was admitted to monarchs their match being.
And when at eighty he came back to Paris,
And there he passed to his rest further,
In Paris you can never avoid love’s bliss,
Here lived Voltaire, a poet, a philosopher.
{2019}
ВОЛЬТЕР
Родился Аруэ во Франции, в Париже.
В чиновничьей семье как Франсуа-Мари.
Литературы мир ему был права ближе.
Не путайте его с Вальтером, что Анри!
Литературный путь в домах аристократов
Он начал проходить с насмешек и сатир –
За это он примкнул потом к числу экспатов,
И годовой доход был двести тысяч лир!
Он в Англии прожил три незабвенных года:
Политику, стихи и прозу изучал.
Но таковой была вольтерова порода,
Что не обрёл тогда в Британии причал.
И жил он так: скитаясь-возвращаясь:
Дух Франции его по-прежнему манил.
За многие года он так устал, скитаясь:
В Женеве как-то раз имение купил.
И там осел Вольтер, живя на пансионах
От благородных дам и всяческих вельмож.
И серый был доход, хоть ведал он в законах –
Равнее равных ты, когда к монархам вхож!
Но в восемьдесят лет вернулся он в столицу.
И там он опочил потом на склоне лет.
В Париж нельзя никак, приехав, не влюбиться!
Здесь жил Вольтер – философ и поэт!
{11.11.2019}
Translator - I. Toporov
May 13, 2020
May 13, 2020 at 1:38 PM UTC