"atlas" poems - Hello Poetry

"atlas" poems

We were misfits the neglected ******** of a backwards world that rejected us not because we were sick demented or dangerous but because we didn't prescribe to a preconceived notion of what a functioning citizen was. Not rotten enough to spoil behind the bars of a prison just competent enough to work menial jobs and drown our sorrows at the corner pub. We swallowed this hard truth the same way we drank our shots with no chaser and at times it burnt maybe even made us tear up but we never let it beat us (too strong for that) We were beautiful resilient beasts that could carry the weight of the world upon our shoulders and it was heavy but we would tell ourselves "doesn't every world need an atlas?" so we went on holding up the sky when no one asked it of us.

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Sep 25, 2013

Sep 25, 2013 at 1:21 AM UTC

A Love Letter To Those Who Hold Up The Sky

We were misfits the neglected ******** of a backwards world that rejected us not because we were sick demented or dangerous but because we didn't prescribe to a preconceived notion of what a functioning citizen was. Not rotten enough to spoil behind the bars of a prison just competent enough to work menial jobs and drown our sorrows at the corner pub. We swallowed this hard truth the same way we drank our shots with no chaser and at times it burnt maybe even made us tear up but we never let it beat us (too strong for that) We were beautiful resilient beasts that could carry the weight of the world upon our shoulders and it was heavy but we would tell ourselves "doesn't every world need an atlas?" so we went on holding up the sky when no one asked it of us.

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I never dreamed of meeting someone like you. You found me in the cold and gave me a home, and now I can't imagine my life without you. You showed me the parts of the world that no one has ever seen. You helped me find the light and now I can survive these dark days because of you. We danced with the stars and lived off wishbones. Swallowing stardust and creating galaxies with our imagination. Your love made my head spin faster than the planets. Sweetheart, you have done so much and now I feel like one of the lucky ones. Let us go fishing for stars Let us swim with the cosmos Lets everything You drew an atlas on my hand and connected the dots to the places where we plan to meet. I love the shape of your lips and how I can trace them so easily with mine and now I can finally feel comfortable when I say I love you and mean it because I will love you until there is no till. Until all the stars burst apart in front of us. Until the universe stops spinning Until the end.

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Sep 5, 2013

Sep 5, 2013 at 8:31 PM UTC

I never dreamed of meeting someone like you. You found me in the cold and gave me a home, and now I can't imagine my life without you. You showed me the parts of the world that no one has ever seen. You helped me find the light and now I can survive these dark days because of you. We danced with the stars and lived off wishbones. Swallowing stardust and creating galaxies with our imagination. Your love made my head spin faster than the planets. Sweetheart, you have done so much and now I feel like one of the lucky ones. Let us go fishing for stars Let us swim with the cosmos Lets everything You drew an atlas on my hand and connected the dots to the places where we plan to meet. I love the shape of your lips and how I can trace them so easily with mine and now I can finally feel comfortable when I say I love you and mean it because I will love you until there is no till. Until all the stars burst apart in front of us. Until the universe stops spinning Until the end.

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gods and goddesses stilled mid-flight, immortalized in a glory fast fading. distilled sunlight filtering through, unheeded, as a devastating dawn for redemption awakens. _dust scattering over marble hands, forever supple,_ as angels fall from grace, wings clipped and torn asunder. the sigh of a thousand lost souls, searching; the thunder of a thousand chariots, unbridled. _a wing outstretched, a bow pulled taught;_ drawn, not fired. frozen heroes lifting voices unheard; _the calm before a storm, a fight unforeseen,_ silver linings beckoning victories of heaven's epics left unsung. look up into the clouds and you'll see a history unwritten, for they speak to you in murals of smeared colors and pure light. but hush! sweet child, off you drift into an insincere sleep, until these stories buried beneath your lips, singed, searing, burning away memories of the battles that linger ,over your tongue , are no more than a shadow of a flame. and as his lashes flutter closed over blue eyes and his heavy golden curls fall on white sheets she whispers, _the renaissance was not painted for you._

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Jul 27, 2018

Jul 27, 2018 at 10:08 AM UTC

gods and goddesses stilled mid-flight, immortalized in a glory fast fading. distilled sunlight filtering through, unheeded, as a devastating dawn for redemption awakens. _dust scattering over marble hands, forever supple,_ as angels fall from grace, wings clipped and torn asunder. the sigh of a thousand lost souls, searching; the thunder of a thousand chariots, unbridled. _a wing outstretched, a bow pulled taught;_ drawn, not fired. frozen heroes lifting voices unheard; _the calm before a storm, a fight unforeseen,_ silver linings beckoning victories of heaven's epics left unsung. look up into the clouds and you'll see a history unwritten, for they speak to you in murals of smeared colors and pure light. but hush! sweet child, off you drift into an insincere sleep, until these stories buried beneath your lips, singed, searing, burning away memories of the battles that linger ,over your tongue , are no more than a shadow of a flame. and as his lashes flutter closed over blue eyes and his heavy golden curls fall on white sheets she whispers, _the renaissance was not painted for you._

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Clownlike, happiest on your hands, Feet to the stars, and moon-skulled, Gilled like a fish. A common-sense Thumbs-down on the dodo's mode. Wrapped up in yourself like a spool, Trawling your dark, as owls do. Mute as a turnip from the Fourth Of July to All Fools' Day, O high-riser, my little loaf. Vague as fog and looked for like mail. Farther off than Australia. Bent-backed Atlas, our traveled prawn. Snug as a bud and at home Like a sprat in a pickle jug. A creel of eels, all ripples. Jumpy as a Mexican bean. Right, like a well-done sum. A clean slate, with your own face on.

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12.9k

Clownlike, happiest on your hands, Feet to the stars, and moon-skulled, Gilled like a fish. A common-sense Thumbs-down on the dodo's mode. Wrapped up in yourself like a spool, Trawling your dark, as owls do. Mute as a turnip from the Fourth Of July to All Fools' Day, O high-riser, my little loaf. Vague as fog and looked for like mail. Farther off than Australia. Bent-backed Atlas, our traveled prawn. Snug as a bud and at home Like a sprat in a pickle jug. A creel of eels, all ripples. Jumpy as a Mexican bean. Right, like a well-done sum. A clean slate, with your own face on.

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As the shape all sun tore up the curtain of blood and ululation, everything in Tunisia, as stricken by a wand, came to a standstill, and slipped away from the senses - Even rivers stopped. Medjerda* froze halfway through the descent to his destination, as he realized he’d been making a fatal error: pouring forth all his passion into the ocean. So he stopped, retracted his course, re-collected himself, and started flowing backward, toward the source in the Atlas that had bidden him farewell. In his spear head there was a design: start a new chaos in the valley, in which there would be a sweet-water lake and sailors drunk with sunbeams, sweat and pleasure. Butterflies would flutter around the scent of mint and bluegreen rosemary. Sweet Moon to Sweet Lake would come, unannounced, In the rays of the nightlight of the fluttering night to watch her self shoot the scene of representation. The river, now swimming in his own water, carried the sky on his shoulder, while an ant and a grasshopper, holding a basket together, watched the new scene. As the figure all sun appeared , reason melted; imagination her hazel eyes opened. *Medjerda is the most important river in Tunisia. Length, 460 km; basin area, 22,000 sq km. It flows out of the Atlas mountains into the Gulf of Tunis. © LazharBouazzi, June 16, 2016

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Jun 16, 2016

Jun 16, 2016 at 1:35 PM UTC

Ode to the Tunisian Revolution

As the shape all sun tore up the curtain of blood and ululation, everything in Tunisia, as stricken by a wand, came to a standstill, and slipped away from the senses - Even rivers stopped. Medjerda* froze halfway through the descent to his destination, as he realized he’d been making a fatal error: pouring forth all his passion into the ocean. So he stopped, retracted his course, re-collected himself, and started flowing backward, toward the source in the Atlas that had bidden him farewell. In his spear head there was a design: start a new chaos in the valley, in which there would be a sweet-water lake and sailors drunk with sunbeams, sweat and pleasure. Butterflies would flutter around the scent of mint and bluegreen rosemary. Sweet Moon to Sweet Lake would come, unannounced, In the rays of the nightlight of the fluttering night to watch her self shoot the scene of representation. The river, now swimming in his own water, carried the sky on his shoulder, while an ant and a grasshopper, holding a basket together, watched the new scene. As the figure all sun appeared , reason melted; imagination her hazel eyes opened. *Medjerda is the most important river in Tunisia. Length, 460 km; basin area, 22,000 sq km. It flows out of the Atlas mountains into the Gulf of Tunis. © LazharBouazzi, June 16, 2016

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I see you, in those short skirts walking that way Always making a point, to smile my way, everyday Flirtatious eyes wondering, we don’t trip, we just play I see him by your side, you tired of that relationship Ain’t loving you right, so every night your mind just shifts To me between your thighs, working that, overnight shifts Toungin you down right, when I’m done- you just twitch. Then I switch, going left to right, got you clenching your fist. Giving you what you need, satisfies me. You loving the twist You are loving this **** Hitting your spot, never miss He calls your name, but you come to me-- doing this The pleasures mine; yours is bliss One is never enough, and two loves company Why else would we exist We were built to fit like this Flipping your world upside down like I'm your atlas.

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Sep 3, 2014

Sep 3, 2014 at 9:12 PM UTC

I see you, in those short skirts walking that way Always making a point, to smile my way, everyday Flirtatious eyes wondering, we don’t trip, we just play I see him by your side, you tired of that relationship Ain’t loving you right, so every night your mind just shifts To me between your thighs, working that, overnight shifts Toungin you down right, when I’m done- you just twitch. Then I switch, going left to right, got you clenching your fist. Giving you what you need, satisfies me. You loving the twist You are loving this **** Hitting your spot, never miss He calls your name, but you come to me-- doing this The pleasures mine; yours is bliss One is never enough, and two loves company Why else would we exist We were built to fit like this Flipping your world upside down like I'm your atlas.

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A part of me lives miles and minutes and moments away in an indefinite, dreamy place where clocks are not my enemy and I associate the word “distance" with travel, not longing My heart has sailed across the Atlantic, moved eagerly through the Indian Ocean, navigated using an atlas inked with butterflies and stars that gleam ardently (just as your rosemary eyes do, every once in a blue moon, when you’re able to sew together the disarrayed thoughts that dwell in your messy head) You are so, so far away However, if I avoid calendars and geography, it feels like you’re right here beside me In the afternoon, when the sun shines through my bedroom window and paints the world map on my wall with light, I shut my eyelids and run my thumb along the string that stretches across the parchment, connecting me to you I pretend that when I open my eyes, you will be here and that my aching fingers that are so desperately grasping the paper will be intertwined with yours

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Aug 3, 2013

Aug 3, 2013 at 1:35 PM UTC

A part of me lives miles and minutes and moments away in an indefinite, dreamy place where clocks are not my enemy and I associate the word “distance" with travel, not longing My heart has sailed across the Atlantic, moved eagerly through the Indian Ocean, navigated using an atlas inked with butterflies and stars that gleam ardently (just as your rosemary eyes do, every once in a blue moon, when you’re able to sew together the disarrayed thoughts that dwell in your messy head) You are so, so far away However, if I avoid calendars and geography, it feels like you’re right here beside me In the afternoon, when the sun shines through my bedroom window and paints the world map on my wall with light, I shut my eyelids and run my thumb along the string that stretches across the parchment, connecting me to you I pretend that when I open my eyes, you will be here and that my aching fingers that are so desperately grasping the paper will be intertwined with yours

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Opinions like dough, gruesome and cloying, sticking to the tongue like self righteous peanut butter. Sitting up for the wrong reasons, though it's difficult to get out of bed alone. Counting calories like counting the number of eyes that pass over this form. Glances flitting like shadows on cheekbones that aren't cutting, too rounded. Running towards expectations on the necessary incline towards beautiful. Sweat and pounds and £s for form fitting clothes, like sickly scales. Weight resting on the soles of the right shoe for the right path towards the right body. Weight lifted, muscles straining like Atlas with the weight of the world's eye view. Memberships paid for, memberships given to the society of those who fit into society. Take the leftovers, it's funny because the sight of us does not suggest the leaving of necessity. Tightening belts until the loopholes leave us love even though we lack what is expected. Leaving our food and gaining what you want.

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Jul 8, 2013

Jul 8, 2013 at 6:05 PM UTC

danny-osullivan

The World's Workout

Opinions like dough, gruesome and cloying, sticking to the tongue like self righteous peanut butter. Sitting up for the wrong reasons, though it's difficult to get out of bed alone. Counting calories like counting the number of eyes that pass over this form. Glances flitting like shadows on cheekbones that aren't cutting, too rounded. Running towards expectations on the necessary incline towards beautiful. Sweat and pounds and £s for form fitting clothes, like sickly scales. Weight resting on the soles of the right shoe for the right path towards the right body. Weight lifted, muscles straining like Atlas with the weight of the world's eye view. Memberships paid for, memberships given to the society of those who fit into society. Take the leftovers, it's funny because the sight of us does not suggest the leaving of necessity. Tightening belts until the loopholes leave us love even though we lack what is expected. Leaving our food and gaining what you want.

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This is winter, this is night, small love -- A sort of black horsehair, A rough, dumb country stuff Steeled with the sheen Of what green stars can make it to our gate. I hold you on my arm. It is very late. The dull bells tongue the hour. The mirror floats us at one candle power. This is the fluid in which we meet each other, This haloey radiance that seems to breathe And lets our shadows wither Only to blow Them huge again, violent giants on the wall. One match scratch makes you real. At first the candle will not bloom at all -- It snuffs its bud To almost nothing, to a dull blue dud. I hold my breath until you creak to life, Balled hedgehog, Small and cross. The yellow knife Grows tall. You clutch your bars. My singing makes you roar. I rock you like a boat Across the Indian carpet, the cold floor, While the brass man Kneels, back bent, as best he can Hefting his white pillar with the light That keeps the sky at bay, The sack of black! It is everywhere, tight, tight! He is yours, the little brassy Atlas -- Poor heirloom, all you have, At his heels a pile of five brass cannonballs, No child, no wife. Five ***** Five bright brass ***** To juggle with, my love, when the sky falls.

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9k

This is winter, this is night, small love -- A sort of black horsehair, A rough, dumb country stuff Steeled with the sheen Of what green stars can make it to our gate. I hold you on my arm. It is very late. The dull bells tongue the hour. The mirror floats us at one candle power. This is the fluid in which we meet each other, This haloey radiance that seems to breathe And lets our shadows wither Only to blow Them huge again, violent giants on the wall. One match scratch makes you real. At first the candle will not bloom at all -- It snuffs its bud To almost nothing, to a dull blue dud. I hold my breath until you creak to life, Balled hedgehog, Small and cross. The yellow knife Grows tall. You clutch your bars. My singing makes you roar. I rock you like a boat Across the Indian carpet, the cold floor, While the brass man Kneels, back bent, as best he can Hefting his white pillar with the light That keeps the sky at bay, The sack of black! It is everywhere, tight, tight! He is yours, the little brassy Atlas -- Poor heirloom, all you have, At his heels a pile of five brass cannonballs, No child, no wife. Five ***** Five bright brass ***** To juggle with, my love, when the sky falls.

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May I present a challenge? Imagine if you will You have created a flying explosive device And it needs a name that will thrill. A name, a good name, which name? Well, none of those below. Some twisted suits have already used them. **** EVEN Tacit Rainbow. What really goes through their minds? As they sit and discuss the name Of their creation that's destined to **** Butcher, destroy and maim. Just try if you can To read the whole of this edited list Imagine how many have exploded of each With out angrily clenching your fist Little John Honest John Hellfire Matador HARM Terrier Nike-Ajax Corporal Sea Sparrow Redstone Bullpup Mace Nike-Hercules Regulus II Atlas Thor Lacrosse Jupiter Quail Hawk Tartar Falcon Polaris Hound Dog Pershing Entac Firebee Shelduck Jayhawk Cardinal Firefly Petrel Redhead/Roadrunner Redeye Mauler Skybolt Nike Zeus/Spartan Condor Phoenix Typhon MR Falconer Overseer Taurus Kingfisher Cardinal Walleye Hornet Maverick Big Q Minuteman Blue Eye Viper Firebolt Bulldog Harpoon Focus Perseus Firefly Stinger Compass Dwell B-Gull Agile Seekbat Delta Dagger Thunderbolt[7] Patriot Aquila Teleplane Streaker Tomahawk Firebrand Roland Peacekeeper Penguin Pave Tiger/Seek Spinner Sidearm Skipper Wasp Sea Lance Ripper[7] Trident II Midgetman Tacit Rainbow Pave Cricket Have Nap Peregrine Exdrone Javelin Pointer Hunter Coyote Skeeter Outlaw Wow, you're still reading And you've managed not to throw up. Just wondering how many innocent victims Of a tax funded device called Bullpup.

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May 28, 2014

May 28, 2014 at 7:00 PM UTC

May I present a challenge? Imagine if you will You have created a flying explosive device And it needs a name that will thrill. A name, a good name, which name? Well, none of those below. Some twisted suits have already used them. **** EVEN Tacit Rainbow. What really goes through their minds? As they sit and discuss the name Of their creation that's destined to **** Butcher, destroy and maim. Just try if you can To read the whole of this edited list Imagine how many have exploded of each With out angrily clenching your fist Little John Honest John Hellfire Matador HARM Terrier Nike-Ajax Corporal Sea Sparrow Redstone Bullpup Mace Nike-Hercules Regulus II Atlas Thor Lacrosse Jupiter Quail Hawk Tartar Falcon Polaris Hound Dog Pershing Entac Firebee Shelduck Jayhawk Cardinal Firefly Petrel Redhead/Roadrunner Redeye Mauler Skybolt Nike Zeus/Spartan Condor Phoenix Typhon MR Falconer Overseer Taurus Kingfisher Cardinal Walleye Hornet Maverick Big Q Minuteman Blue Eye Viper Firebolt Bulldog Harpoon Focus Perseus Firefly Stinger Compass Dwell B-Gull Agile Seekbat Delta Dagger Thunderbolt[7] Patriot Aquila Teleplane Streaker Tomahawk Firebrand Roland Peacekeeper Penguin Pave Tiger/Seek Spinner Sidearm Skipper Wasp Sea Lance Ripper[7] Trident II Midgetman Tacit Rainbow Pave Cricket Have Nap Peregrine Exdrone Javelin Pointer Hunter Coyote Skeeter Outlaw Wow, you're still reading And you've managed not to throw up. Just wondering how many innocent victims Of a tax funded device called Bullpup.

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Okay I'm a guy and thinking something positively about my body is something I've never even tried! Deep breath... Deep breath.... alright, maybe This'll be for the best ahem Okay now to think about my body in a positive manner I'm not the best looking guy but I can clean up and look dapper I have curly hair and some ******* up teeth but embracing my flaws is the only way to get over my raging insecurity I may get inked up soon ideally on my birthday at high noon yes I'm a guy and I'm not Charles atlas but I'm taking my body off of my mental blacklist

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May 23, 2015

May 23, 2015 at 3:21 AM UTC

neroameealucard

Okay I'm a guy and thinking something positively about my body is something I've never even tried! Deep breath... Deep breath.... alright, maybe This'll be for the best ahem Okay now to think about my body in a positive manner I'm not the best looking guy but I can clean up and look dapper I have curly hair and some ******* up teeth but embracing my flaws is the only way to get over my raging insecurity I may get inked up soon ideally on my birthday at high noon yes I'm a guy and I'm not Charles atlas but I'm taking my body off of my mental blacklist

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"heavy breathing/hot breath. hands touching/warm skin. why did i do this." i had to stand on the tips of my toes just so i could reach your lips. arms encircled me, keeping me safe. this can't be real. "we looked into each other's eyes and her breath still lingers on my skin. i shiver. she clung to me tightly, as if she was scared." i have ruined the best thing that has happened to me. "she had to tell everyone of this. this was meant for us only. why share this moment with the world. why did i let her do this. she's already happy, playing me like a game of cards. one mistake turned into regret." i'm so sorry. this secret was something i couldn't bear. carrying the weight like atlas. your body was my map that my finger traced, leading me to a secret location. i have revealed its existence. "those eyes that i thought were innocent have become guilty (i was betrayed). how could i live with this." i wanted you. "she wanted to use me." i'm sorry. "she'll say sorry as much as she wants; she'll pay." 'one mistake turned into regret.' "keep apologizing, that isn't the price i want." i'd do anything. "she wouldn't do anything. she's got other guys. **** find someone you actually love." but you're the one i want. "i might as well end it here/there's no reason to live." there are plenty of reasons. "i don't see her as a reason." i can still feel your breath on me. as i cry at the little reminders of you. when it's night, i wish you were next to me. but who would want to be with me. i'm a spoiled, selfish, lying girl. "i want out." no, i want out. "she has ruined me." just give me a second chance. "this was supposed to be our moment, not the world's. what happened wasn't us." but what if it's us. what if it's us and only us. "i know i hurt her, but she also hurt me. i can't pretend this didn't happen. pretending would let her off the hook. she needs to know." then let's make a promise to us. let's start over and not pretend.

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Aug 2, 2018

Aug 2, 2018 at 11:48 AM UTC

she did this/to us

"heavy breathing/hot breath. hands touching/warm skin. why did i do this." i had to stand on the tips of my toes just so i could reach your lips. arms encircled me, keeping me safe. this can't be real. "we looked into each other's eyes and her breath still lingers on my skin. i shiver. she clung to me tightly, as if she was scared." i have ruined the best thing that has happened to me. "she had to tell everyone of this. this was meant for us only. why share this moment with the world. why did i let her do this. she's already happy, playing me like a game of cards. one mistake turned into regret." i'm so sorry. this secret was something i couldn't bear. carrying the weight like atlas. your body was my map that my finger traced, leading me to a secret location. i have revealed its existence. "those eyes that i thought were innocent have become guilty (i was betrayed). how could i live with this." i wanted you. "she wanted to use me." i'm sorry. "she'll say sorry as much as she wants; she'll pay." 'one mistake turned into regret.' "keep apologizing, that isn't the price i want." i'd do anything. "she wouldn't do anything. she's got other guys. **** find someone you actually love." but you're the one i want. "i might as well end it here/there's no reason to live." there are plenty of reasons. "i don't see her as a reason." i can still feel your breath on me. as i cry at the little reminders of you. when it's night, i wish you were next to me. but who would want to be with me. i'm a spoiled, selfish, lying girl. "i want out." no, i want out. "she has ruined me." just give me a second chance. "this was supposed to be our moment, not the world's. what happened wasn't us." but what if it's us. what if it's us and only us. "i know i hurt her, but she also hurt me. i can't pretend this didn't happen. pretending would let her off the hook. she needs to know." then let's make a promise to us. let's start over and not pretend.

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WHEN the jury files in to deliver a verdict after weeks of direct and cross examinations, hot clashes of lawyers and cool decisions of the judge, There are points of high silence-twiddling of thumbs is at an end-bailiffs near cuspidors take fresh chews of tobacco and wait-and the clock has a chance for its ticking to be heard. A lawyer for the defense clears his throat and holds himself ready if the word is "Guilty" to enter motion for a new trial, speaking in a soft voice, speaking in a voice slightly colored with bitter wrongs mingled with monumental patience, speaking with mythic Atlas shoulders of many preposterous, unjust circumstances.

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7.5k

WHEN the jury files in to deliver a verdict after weeks of direct and cross examinations, hot clashes of lawyers and cool decisions of the judge, There are points of high silence-twiddling of thumbs is at an end-bailiffs near cuspidors take fresh chews of tobacco and wait-and the clock has a chance for its ticking to be heard. A lawyer for the defense clears his throat and holds himself ready if the word is "Guilty" to enter motion for a new trial, speaking in a soft voice, speaking in a voice slightly colored with bitter wrongs mingled with monumental patience, speaking with mythic Atlas shoulders of many preposterous, unjust circumstances.

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She is an atlas her eyes deepest and darkest Africa Unfolded I hold her tracing the source of her diamonds and gold In search of the motherload.

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Mar 12, 2016

Mar 12, 2016 at 7:26 AM UTC

She is an atlas her eyes deepest and darkest Africa Unfolded I hold her tracing the source of her diamonds and gold In search of the motherload.

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The rich will always be rich, Computers, clean body, nice clothes, Proper homes, not shacks. Elite schools, branded Motorcycles, jewelry The poor will always be poor, A pen, a marvel Firewood, abandoned train tracks YMCA funded classes, Hand-me downs, nakedness Grandfather, father, Son. Same lineage, same burden To pass down Generation To Generation To Generation. A Never-ending cycle Cruel game of Russian roulette, Spin the revolver, watch it Turn, pick it up, iron to temple --BANG BANG-- you're dead. The more the rounds, the More Lethal It Gets It is a gap that cannot Be plugged, A boulder that cannot be put down, Like Atlas holding the sky, If released, the sky and earth Collide, and we die-- All of us. Everyone.

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Dec 2, 2014

Dec 2, 2014 at 7:12 PM UTC

The rich will always be rich, Computers, clean body, nice clothes, Proper homes, not shacks. Elite schools, branded Motorcycles, jewelry The poor will always be poor, A pen, a marvel Firewood, abandoned train tracks YMCA funded classes, Hand-me downs, nakedness Grandfather, father, Son. Same lineage, same burden To pass down Generation To Generation To Generation. A Never-ending cycle Cruel game of Russian roulette, Spin the revolver, watch it Turn, pick it up, iron to temple --BANG BANG-- you're dead. The more the rounds, the More Lethal It Gets It is a gap that cannot Be plugged, A boulder that cannot be put down, Like Atlas holding the sky, If released, the sky and earth Collide, and we die-- All of us. Everyone.

Continue reading...

As the shape-all-sun tore up the curtain of blood and ululation, everything in Tunisia, as stricken by a wand, came to a standstill, and slipped away from the senses - Even rivers stopped. Medjerda* froze halfway through his descent to his destination, as he realized he’d been making a fatal error: pouring forth all his passion into the ocean. So he stopped, retracted his course, re-collected himself, and started flowing backward, toward the source in the Atlas that had bidden him farewell. In his spear head there was a design: start a new chaos in the valley, in which there would be a sweet-water lake and sailors drunk with sunbeams, sweat and pleasure. Butterflies would flutter around the scent of mint and bluegreen rosemary. Through the flutter of the midnight hour Sweet Moon to Sweet Lake would come, unannounced, to watch her self shooting the act of representation. Now swimming in his own water, th river carried the sky on his shoulder, while an ant and a grasshopper, holding a basket together, watched the new scene. As the figure-all-sun appeared , reason melted; imagination her hazel eyes opened. © LazharBouazzi *Medjerda is the most important river in Tunisia. Length, 460 km; basin area, 22,000 sq km. It flows out of the Atlas mountains into the Gulf of Tunis.

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Feb 16, 2017

Feb 16, 2017 at 1:19 PM UTC

Ode to the Tunisian Revolution (re-vision/re-post)

As the shape-all-sun tore up the curtain of blood and ululation, everything in Tunisia, as stricken by a wand, came to a standstill, and slipped away from the senses - Even rivers stopped. Medjerda* froze halfway through his descent to his destination, as he realized he’d been making a fatal error: pouring forth all his passion into the ocean. So he stopped, retracted his course, re-collected himself, and started flowing backward, toward the source in the Atlas that had bidden him farewell. In his spear head there was a design: start a new chaos in the valley, in which there would be a sweet-water lake and sailors drunk with sunbeams, sweat and pleasure. Butterflies would flutter around the scent of mint and bluegreen rosemary. Through the flutter of the midnight hour Sweet Moon to Sweet Lake would come, unannounced, to watch her self shooting the act of representation. Now swimming in his own water, th river carried the sky on his shoulder, while an ant and a grasshopper, holding a basket together, watched the new scene. As the figure-all-sun appeared , reason melted; imagination her hazel eyes opened. © LazharBouazzi *Medjerda is the most important river in Tunisia. Length, 460 km; basin area, 22,000 sq km. It flows out of the Atlas mountains into the Gulf of Tunis.

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voice over: narrator Pemberitahuan terakhir disuarakan, keberangkatan pesawat tujuan Frankfurt Airport akan lepas landas tak lama lagi lagi, orang-orang bersiap masuk kabin. Ada satu hal yang terlintas di pikiran Atlas; ia tahu Venus tidak akan datang. Tidak dalam hitungan waktu tiga puluh menit, sepuluh menit, apalagi lima menit. Percuma saja menunggu, Venus benar-benar tidak datang. Perpisahan mereka sudah berlangsung semalam, pertemuan terakhir yang berhasil membuat Atlas berkali-kali memutar ulang seluruh adegan, mendengar suara gelak tawa mantan pacarnya dalam benak khayal, membayangkan senyuman Venus yang ia lukiskan untuknya terakhir kali. Pertemuan terakhir mereka kemarin bahkan tidak terasa seperti perpisahan, namun tetap bagi Atlas terasa begitu janggal. Mungkin karena terlalu tiba-tiba dan cepat, pertemuan terakhir yang merupakan perpisahan, pertemuan terakhir paling bahagia dan paling sedih, yang juga menyudahi hubungan singkat mereka. Sejenak Atlas merasa sendu. Dalam lubuk hatinya masih sesekali berharap Venus meneleponnya, mengatakan bahwa ia akan datang mengucapkan selamat tinggal. Namun, nyatanya ucapan selamat tinggal Venus hanya berupa memori-memori tentangnya; seratus hal yang tertanam sejati di dalam hati Atlas mengenai segala hal tentang kejanggalan perempuan itu, gelak tawanya, senyumanya, aroma tubuhnya, kerlingan matanya, rambut hitam tebalnya, wajah pemikirnya, serta sosoknya yang seringkali membuat dirinya bertanya-tanya; kisah apa saja yang tidak diketahuinya, yang pernah terjadi dalam sejarah hidupnya sehingga membentuk pribadi sepertinya yang begitu terlihat bagai keajaiban seni paling nyata di mata Atlas? Baginya, Venus adalah sebuah takdir dan keajaiban menjadi satu. Dan, ia tidak akan pernah ada niat untuk melupakannya.

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Jan 28, 2017

Jan 28, 2017 at 6:56 AM UTC

daydreaming part 2: tentang perpisahan

voice over: narrator Pemberitahuan terakhir disuarakan, keberangkatan pesawat tujuan Frankfurt Airport akan lepas landas tak lama lagi lagi, orang-orang bersiap masuk kabin. Ada satu hal yang terlintas di pikiran Atlas; ia tahu Venus tidak akan datang. Tidak dalam hitungan waktu tiga puluh menit, sepuluh menit, apalagi lima menit. Percuma saja menunggu, Venus benar-benar tidak datang. Perpisahan mereka sudah berlangsung semalam, pertemuan terakhir yang berhasil membuat Atlas berkali-kali memutar ulang seluruh adegan, mendengar suara gelak tawa mantan pacarnya dalam benak khayal, membayangkan senyuman Venus yang ia lukiskan untuknya terakhir kali. Pertemuan terakhir mereka kemarin bahkan tidak terasa seperti perpisahan, namun tetap bagi Atlas terasa begitu janggal. Mungkin karena terlalu tiba-tiba dan cepat, pertemuan terakhir yang merupakan perpisahan, pertemuan terakhir paling bahagia dan paling sedih, yang juga menyudahi hubungan singkat mereka. Sejenak Atlas merasa sendu. Dalam lubuk hatinya masih sesekali berharap Venus meneleponnya, mengatakan bahwa ia akan datang mengucapkan selamat tinggal. Namun, nyatanya ucapan selamat tinggal Venus hanya berupa memori-memori tentangnya; seratus hal yang tertanam sejati di dalam hati Atlas mengenai segala hal tentang kejanggalan perempuan itu, gelak tawanya, senyumanya, aroma tubuhnya, kerlingan matanya, rambut hitam tebalnya, wajah pemikirnya, serta sosoknya yang seringkali membuat dirinya bertanya-tanya; kisah apa saja yang tidak diketahuinya, yang pernah terjadi dalam sejarah hidupnya sehingga membentuk pribadi sepertinya yang begitu terlihat bagai keajaiban seni paling nyata di mata Atlas? Baginya, Venus adalah sebuah takdir dan keajaiban menjadi satu. Dan, ia tidak akan pernah ada niat untuk melupakannya.

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Say this city has ten million souls, Some are living in mansions, some are living in holes: Yet there's no place for us, my dear, yet there's no place for us. Once we had a country and we thought it fair, Look in the atlas and you'll find it there: We cannot go there now, my dear, we cannot go there now. In the village churchyard there grows an old yew, Every spring it blossoms anew: Old passports can't do that, my dear, old passports can't do that. The consul banged the table and said, "If you've got no passport you're officially dead": But we are still alive, my dear, but we are still alive. Went to a committee; they offered me a chair; Asked me politely to return next year: But where shall we go to-day, my dear, but where shall we go to-day? Came to a public meeting; the speaker got up and said; "If we let them in, they will steal our daily bread": He was talking of you and me, my dear, he was talking of you and me. Thought I heard the thunder rumbling in the sky; It was ****** over Europe, saying, "They must die": O we were in his mind, my dear, O we were in his mind. Saw a poodle in a jacket fastened with a pin, Saw a door opened and a cat let in: But they weren't German Jews, my dear, but they weren't German Jews. Went down the harbour and stood upon the quay, Saw the fish swimming as if they were free: Only ten feet away, my dear, only ten feet away. Walked through a wood, saw the birds in the trees; They had no politicians and sang at their ease: They weren't the human race, my dear, they weren't the human race. Dreamed I saw a building with a thousand floors, A thousand windows and a thousand doors: Not one of them was ours, my dear, not one of them was ours. Stood on a great plain in the falling snow; Ten thousand soldiers marched to and fro: Looking for you and me, my dear, looking for you and me.

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Say this city has ten million souls, Some are living in mansions, some are living in holes: Yet there's no place for us, my dear, yet there's no place for us. Once we had a country and we thought it fair, Look in the atlas and you'll find it there: We cannot go there now, my dear, we cannot go there now. In the village churchyard there grows an old yew, Every spring it blossoms anew: Old passports can't do that, my dear, old passports can't do that. The consul banged the table and said, "If you've got no passport you're officially dead": But we are still alive, my dear, but we are still alive. Went to a committee; they offered me a chair; Asked me politely to return next year: But where shall we go to-day, my dear, but where shall we go to-day? Came to a public meeting; the speaker got up and said; "If we let them in, they will steal our daily bread": He was talking of you and me, my dear, he was talking of you and me. Thought I heard the thunder rumbling in the sky; It was ****** over Europe, saying, "They must die": O we were in his mind, my dear, O we were in his mind. Saw a poodle in a jacket fastened with a pin, Saw a door opened and a cat let in: But they weren't German Jews, my dear, but they weren't German Jews. Went down the harbour and stood upon the quay, Saw the fish swimming as if they were free: Only ten feet away, my dear, only ten feet away. Walked through a wood, saw the birds in the trees; They had no politicians and sang at their ease: They weren't the human race, my dear, they weren't the human race. Dreamed I saw a building with a thousand floors, A thousand windows and a thousand doors: Not one of them was ours, my dear, not one of them was ours. Stood on a great plain in the falling snow; Ten thousand soldiers marched to and fro: Looking for you and me, my dear, looking for you and me.

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Sprawl of the nazarene toothslayer, Nucleotide bombast explosion; ***** of the eftsoon soothsayer, Pyramid galaxies implosion: Breathing quintuplicating matrix Somersault to ceaseless meiosis, Goldbeating phlanx initiatrix: Amphimixis apotheosis. Lifen gyrovagues aerolitic: And fixate Atlas telescopic!

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May 17, 2014

May 17, 2014 at 10:55 AM UTC

Noli Me Praehendo

Sprawl of the nazarene toothslayer, Nucleotide bombast explosion; ***** of the eftsoon soothsayer, Pyramid galaxies implosion: Breathing quintuplicating matrix Somersault to ceaseless meiosis, Goldbeating phlanx initiatrix: Amphimixis apotheosis. Lifen gyrovagues aerolitic: And fixate Atlas telescopic!

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Rhythm of life Nails tapping on table tops Beating of our hearts spin the world right off its axis. Momma shot a man in Reno Just to watch him die. Atlas shrugged And we all tripped as we walked The pace of our mile, off by 3.6 seconds. Trust in our stated axioms Disillusioned Americans in Paris Judged by the color of our skins and the shoes on our feet No one stops to see how blue it is up there today. Hurrying through the rain Our cities never sleep. Going down South It’s slower down here. Sunday’s best and “God Loves You” stickers when you get your oil changed. Night train whistle blows Factory steam pipes squeal Mississippi riverboats tug and chug Dictionary.com definitions let us down. Greatest disasters in history are when thing we take perfectly for granted stop working. Mad cow, mad hatter, mad world Bad boys, bad wine, bad date Ellipses, dot dot dots, dramatic pause, passing of time passing of time passing of…. …….. …………. ……………………. Time. Tw— Twi— Twitch. (tick tick tick) I believe in the abnormal And the impossible And I refuse to believe that fictional characters aren’t real Animals completely understand me When I talk to them. Baby missiles fire From all parts of the globe End of the world party Let’s go down in glorious drunkenness As the beating of our hearts Spins the world right off its axis.

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Jun 13, 2012

Jun 13, 2012 at 11:34 AM UTC

This is the Way the World Ends, Not with a Whimper, but a Bang

Rhythm of life Nails tapping on table tops Beating of our hearts spin the world right off its axis. Momma shot a man in Reno Just to watch him die. Atlas shrugged And we all tripped as we walked The pace of our mile, off by 3.6 seconds. Trust in our stated axioms Disillusioned Americans in Paris Judged by the color of our skins and the shoes on our feet No one stops to see how blue it is up there today. Hurrying through the rain Our cities never sleep. Going down South It’s slower down here. Sunday’s best and “God Loves You” stickers when you get your oil changed. Night train whistle blows Factory steam pipes squeal Mississippi riverboats tug and chug Dictionary.com definitions let us down. Greatest disasters in history are when thing we take perfectly for granted stop working. Mad cow, mad hatter, mad world Bad boys, bad wine, bad date Ellipses, dot dot dots, dramatic pause, passing of time passing of time passing of…. …….. …………. ……………………. Time. Tw— Twi— Twitch. (tick tick tick) I believe in the abnormal And the impossible And I refuse to believe that fictional characters aren’t real Animals completely understand me When I talk to them. Baby missiles fire From all parts of the globe End of the world party Let’s go down in glorious drunkenness As the beating of our hearts Spins the world right off its axis.

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Kaniadtong mga bulan nga migo ra tika, Kalipay na nako ang maka istorya ta. Sa mga adlaw nga imo ra ko awayon, Akong kalag nag agik-ik sa ilalom. Sa mga oras nga ikaw galisod, Kahinumdom ba ka nga naa ra ko? Nitulo akong luha para nimo, Ug misakit akong dughan alang kanimo. Basin sakto gyud nga sa sinugdanan, Diha ra maayo ang mga katawhan. Sa mga tawag nato nga nagpainit sa dughan, Ni abot ta ani karon nga murag gi kuriskurisan. Oo, gihigugma nato ang usa'g usa, Gugma nga lisod na pangitaon aning panahona. Pero kining gugma nato akong gi pas-an, Sama kang Atlas nga gi pas-an ang kalibutan. Dili ko gusto mupalayo kanimo, langga, Apan ang kasakit di na nako kaya -- Higugmaon nalang tika sa layo, Ikaw akong pangandoy, ug ikaw ako i-ampo.

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Dec 3, 2017

Dec 3, 2017 at 1:23 AM UTC

Asa ko padulong ani?

Kaniadtong mga bulan nga migo ra tika, Kalipay na nako ang maka istorya ta. Sa mga adlaw nga imo ra ko awayon, Akong kalag nag agik-ik sa ilalom. Sa mga oras nga ikaw galisod, Kahinumdom ba ka nga naa ra ko? Nitulo akong luha para nimo, Ug misakit akong dughan alang kanimo. Basin sakto gyud nga sa sinugdanan, Diha ra maayo ang mga katawhan. Sa mga tawag nato nga nagpainit sa dughan, Ni abot ta ani karon nga murag gi kuriskurisan. Oo, gihigugma nato ang usa'g usa, Gugma nga lisod na pangitaon aning panahona. Pero kining gugma nato akong gi pas-an, Sama kang Atlas nga gi pas-an ang kalibutan. Dili ko gusto mupalayo kanimo, langga, Apan ang kasakit di na nako kaya -- Higugmaon nalang tika sa layo, Ikaw akong pangandoy, ug ikaw ako i-ampo.

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Zeus, your predilection for banishing Titans to Hades... anathema of them--revolt was theirs of you...Titanomachy. Enter Prometheus, second generational Titan, brother to Atlas--Prometheus of whom Titan revolt at first ran no fire through his veins. Thus, Zeus was well pleased and employed Prometheus to put earth to water, water to earth...as to yield man. As so man was, and was unto Prometheus...a fondness entered him of them. And in of passion Prometheus' veins were run through with fire...fire fought fire--thus Prometheus reached out taking hold Zeus' lightning. Hid in a hollowed fennel stalk, to be bequeathed unto man. Torrents of fire now ran Prometheus' veins, and in a fit of infamous mockery presented Zeus with two packets of slaughtered animal parts. A hubris was born in Prometheus that being so halved God-man gave itself fully to that polarity...he gawked at Zeus and bade him choose between the two packets. One of ox meat and innards coated in stomach lining, the other of ox-bones coated in its own abundant fat. Thus Zeus chose, the wretched lesser of the two... inconsumable ox-bones coated by fat. A charged and terrible air cut and heavied all direction, pointing assuredly that Zeus was one given over to the surface of things, a psychological casualty of his own vanity. Zeus overcome with Prometheus' disaffection for the God of him struck at Prometheus' family. At length, this assault could not, would not put asunder Prometheus from the ground he stood. A certain Haphaestus was summoned by Zeus...whose directive was writ in torment. Chain Prometheus to Mount Caucasus...where from on high a sackcloth cloud shall shake loose an eagle, whose homing hunger shall have only a taste for Prometheus' liver. Day in, and day out, that accursed ***** shall be the bounty of itself!

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Jan 17, 2012

Jan 17, 2012 at 6:06 PM UTC

Prometheus, That Accursed ***** Shall Be The Bounty Of Itself

Zeus, your predilection for banishing Titans to Hades... anathema of them--revolt was theirs of you...Titanomachy. Enter Prometheus, second generational Titan, brother to Atlas--Prometheus of whom Titan revolt at first ran no fire through his veins. Thus, Zeus was well pleased and employed Prometheus to put earth to water, water to earth...as to yield man. As so man was, and was unto Prometheus...a fondness entered him of them. And in of passion Prometheus' veins were run through with fire...fire fought fire--thus Prometheus reached out taking hold Zeus' lightning. Hid in a hollowed fennel stalk, to be bequeathed unto man. Torrents of fire now ran Prometheus' veins, and in a fit of infamous mockery presented Zeus with two packets of slaughtered animal parts. A hubris was born in Prometheus that being so halved God-man gave itself fully to that polarity...he gawked at Zeus and bade him choose between the two packets. One of ox meat and innards coated in stomach lining, the other of ox-bones coated in its own abundant fat. Thus Zeus chose, the wretched lesser of the two... inconsumable ox-bones coated by fat. A charged and terrible air cut and heavied all direction, pointing assuredly that Zeus was one given over to the surface of things, a psychological casualty of his own vanity. Zeus overcome with Prometheus' disaffection for the God of him struck at Prometheus' family. At length, this assault could not, would not put asunder Prometheus from the ground he stood. A certain Haphaestus was summoned by Zeus...whose directive was writ in torment. Chain Prometheus to Mount Caucasus...where from on high a sackcloth cloud shall shake loose an eagle, whose homing hunger shall have only a taste for Prometheus' liver. Day in, and day out, that accursed ***** shall be the bounty of itself!

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i've spent my entire lifetime running running away running in circles running myself into the ground it isn't fun, anymore my feet have gotten heavy i remember that night you drove **** near 100 miles so we could go to the park and play lava-monster i didn't know the rules you were patient there in the decaying fall air with your news-boy cap pulled down over my eyes and my arms stretched out into the darkness searching for you i felt right for the first time in my life i felt fine i haven't feld good, since i wish i knew then what i know now that i may likely never see you again that you were leaving that you're a runner too i guess it is true you get what you give my feet have become granite stones not meant to be resurrected from the earth my globe's nothing but a paper-weight, now the atlas is never cracked because i can't find you on a map and your arms are the one place that i long to be silly, really the way the head and the heart are incapable of speaking to each other honestly now and then the wind rests for just a moment and through the dry wyoming air i catch your scent trail like a glimpse of heat-lightning in the far horizon but just like you it's gone in an off-set heartbeat the tumble weeds sing your name as they slink across the plains stirring my insomnia into a craze that can only be calmed by night-sky air i search for your face in the shadows of the moon as my calls to you rise with my steam-heated breath and disappear into the stars i wonder if you lay awake all night swearing that the constellations are all begining to align with the sole purpose of pointing you towards me

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Jan 8, 2013

Jan 8, 2013 at 9:51 PM UTC

Sparrowfreckles

arrhythmic astronomy.

i've spent my entire lifetime running running away running in circles running myself into the ground it isn't fun, anymore my feet have gotten heavy i remember that night you drove **** near 100 miles so we could go to the park and play lava-monster i didn't know the rules you were patient there in the decaying fall air with your news-boy cap pulled down over my eyes and my arms stretched out into the darkness searching for you i felt right for the first time in my life i felt fine i haven't feld good, since i wish i knew then what i know now that i may likely never see you again that you were leaving that you're a runner too i guess it is true you get what you give my feet have become granite stones not meant to be resurrected from the earth my globe's nothing but a paper-weight, now the atlas is never cracked because i can't find you on a map and your arms are the one place that i long to be silly, really the way the head and the heart are incapable of speaking to each other honestly now and then the wind rests for just a moment and through the dry wyoming air i catch your scent trail like a glimpse of heat-lightning in the far horizon but just like you it's gone in an off-set heartbeat the tumble weeds sing your name as they slink across the plains stirring my insomnia into a craze that can only be calmed by night-sky air i search for your face in the shadows of the moon as my calls to you rise with my steam-heated breath and disappear into the stars i wonder if you lay awake all night swearing that the constellations are all begining to align with the sole purpose of pointing you towards me

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Backstage Drake show, don’t know how I got here, heart beats ******** feel every feeling except fear, at Drake’s last show, of The Boy Meets World Tour, backstage without a backstage pass, how the heck did I get here? Life so blessed, there’s no need for a backstage pass, always All Access, no matter where on this atlas, facts facts facts, everybody misbehaving, no one knows how to act, on our worst behavior, wish we could bring **** Back, actually, can barely believe we exist, and all of the quotes I wrote, are starting to sound like a To Do List, my God what type of life is this, in first place, which wasn’t supposed to happen in the first place, how the Hell did I end up, backstage at a show hosted by Drake, how’d I get picked for first place VIP, when I wasn’t even close to being a First Round Draft Pick, how can I live a life so viciously victorious, at the same time terribly tragic, I don’t know, just know it all happened like magic, like that’s it, like going from being an anonymous to an A-List actress, beats bumping heart pumping, sold my heart but kept my soul intact, and if want a seat at the table, all you have to do is ask, go ahead, let’s make this a conversation but if you run your mouth too long, I might start running out of patience, and then you’ll lose your chance and your placement, just saying, just finished another world tour, Boy Meets World 2017, on this wild ride like a rodeo with OVO, only one word to describe this and that’s “Amazing.”, backstage Drake show, don’t know how I got here, heart beats ******** feel everything except fear, at Drake’s last show, of The Boy Meets World Tour, backstage without a backstage pass, how the heck did I get here?… ∆ Aaron LaLux ∆ new book HERE: www.amazon.com/dp/1721134158 Or message me directly and I'll send it to you for FREE. ∆

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Sep 22, 2018

Sep 22, 2018 at 11:00 AM UTC

All Access (Backstage Drake)

Backstage Drake show, don’t know how I got here, heart beats ******** feel every feeling except fear, at Drake’s last show, of The Boy Meets World Tour, backstage without a backstage pass, how the heck did I get here? Life so blessed, there’s no need for a backstage pass, always All Access, no matter where on this atlas, facts facts facts, everybody misbehaving, no one knows how to act, on our worst behavior, wish we could bring **** Back, actually, can barely believe we exist, and all of the quotes I wrote, are starting to sound like a To Do List, my God what type of life is this, in first place, which wasn’t supposed to happen in the first place, how the Hell did I end up, backstage at a show hosted by Drake, how’d I get picked for first place VIP, when I wasn’t even close to being a First Round Draft Pick, how can I live a life so viciously victorious, at the same time terribly tragic, I don’t know, just know it all happened like magic, like that’s it, like going from being an anonymous to an A-List actress, beats bumping heart pumping, sold my heart but kept my soul intact, and if want a seat at the table, all you have to do is ask, go ahead, let’s make this a conversation but if you run your mouth too long, I might start running out of patience, and then you’ll lose your chance and your placement, just saying, just finished another world tour, Boy Meets World 2017, on this wild ride like a rodeo with OVO, only one word to describe this and that’s “Amazing.”, backstage Drake show, don’t know how I got here, heart beats ******** feel everything except fear, at Drake’s last show, of The Boy Meets World Tour, backstage without a backstage pass, how the heck did I get here?… ∆ Aaron LaLux ∆ new book HERE: www.amazon.com/dp/1721134158 Or message me directly and I'll send it to you for FREE. ∆

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O,Thou lands lovely afar, across Those blue oceans,gleaming deep Odd shapes in my old atlas torn, Gazed wistful at, dreamt longingly Of honeyed milks and coffers rich. Having now made you mine by mind, Heart,Faith and an allegiance soulful I kiss your Earth, breathe in the Air, Tasting somehow the same as a yearning For the motherland quit so long ago.

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Dec 13, 2013

Dec 13, 2013 at 5:44 AM UTC

max-chelur-the-hermits-corner

O,Thou lands lovely afar, across Those blue oceans,gleaming deep Odd shapes in my old atlas torn, Gazed wistful at, dreamt longingly Of honeyed milks and coffers rich. Having now made you mine by mind, Heart,Faith and an allegiance soulful I kiss your Earth, breathe in the Air, Tasting somehow the same as a yearning For the motherland quit so long ago.

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