"conserver" poems
As a white, middle class female, history and society have labeled me an oppressor.
And the fact that I have come so far to face is that, by nature,
and by that I mean by the socialized conditioning of my white ancestors, I am.
An oppressor of the people, of the land, of myself.
The history of mainstream culture has deprived me of a connection with nature.
It is this social history that I tire with, that I struggle to accept.
See, but with this wisdom comes freedom,
a freedom to reject the path that society and history has paved for me
and to find my own, to find my own truths.
I am a conserver, and I have found nature to be a conserver too.
Traces of my roots and my life reach further than any town limits or cemetery stonewalls.
You can’t cover my spirit with foundation, eye shadow and lipstick.
It may hide death in my face, but it won’t beautify my spirit.
My soul needs no resting place.
It will continue on to live and breathe in the absence of my body,
which has only been a vessel.
I will not be confined.
I can not be confined, not by religion, not by my race, not by my class.
I will not be put in a box, not in life, and not in death.
Aug 12, 2011
Aug 12, 2011 at 4:43 AM UTC
J'ay varié ma vie en devidant la trame
Que Clothon me filoit entre malade et sain,
Maintenant la santé se logeoit en mon sein,
Tantost la maladie extreme fleau de l'ame.
La goutte ja vieillard me bourrela les veines,
Les muscles et les nerfs, execrable douleur,
Montrant en cent façons par cent diverses peines
Que l'homme n'est sinon le subject de malheur.
L'un meurt en son printemps, l'autre attend la vieillesse,
Le trespas est tout un, les accidens divers :
Le vray tresor de l'homme est la verte jeunesse,
Le reste de nos ans ne sont que des hivers.
Pour long temps conserver telle richesse entiere
Ne force ta nature, ains ensuy la raison,
Fuy l'amour et le vin, des vices la matiere,
Grand loyer t'en demeure en la vieille saison.
La jeunesse des Dieux aux hommes n'est donnee
Pour gouspiller sa fleur, ainsi qu'on void fanir
La rose par le chauld, ainsi mal gouvernee
La jeunesse s'enfuit sans jamais revenir.
933
Légèreté
Léger, léger, le papillon,
Posant ses ailes de velours.
Léger, léger, le cerf-volant,
Que l'enfant lance dans l’air.
Léger, léger, l'écureuil roux,
Qui sautille d'arbres en arbres.
Léger, léger le joueur de piano,
Qui nous enchante par ses notes.
Léger, léger les chevelures des belles,
Qui nous donnent gratis, leurs sourires.
Léger, léger, les feuilles d'automne.
Qui tournoient dans le vent.
Léger, léger les rossignols,
Au temps des amours et des cerises
Léger, léger celle ou celui,
Qui a su garder son cœur neuf,
Et conserver intact en lui,
Les idéaux de ses vingt-ans.
Léger, léger, ces champs de blés,
A peine ridés par le vent.
Léger, léger cette sortie en mer
Qui nous donne à voir cette palette de bleus,
Léger, celle et celui, qui gardent le goût de connaître,
Les lieux nouveaux, surtout les êtres.
Paul Arrighi
Sep 9, 2016
Sep 9, 2016 at 5:33 PM UTC
"Eli, Eli, lama sabachthani?"
So He said in despair.
Son of The Father, you call him?
Now, He is so unfair.
Why did A Father abandon His child?
A wrong number.
Do you all believe in falsehood?
Unmonitored childcare.
Even Eli's Son found His faith unsure.
Then how can you be so sure?
The Son thought that The Father abandoned Him.
Is such a
Father
trustworthy of your human faith?
I'd have such a Father under probation,
And His Child under human protection.
Find your faith in Rámà and Křšņà
Because they are both the same.
He is Vìšņù,
The Conserver.
He is without any sin,
The Faithful Protector.
He will never betray you.
Wait for the Kalki to reveal,
As for the Devil's faith, Kalki will dismantle.
Oct 27, 2019
Oct 27, 2019 at 6:40 AM UTC
I Am Father Time.
I keep changing your life.
At times, I am the stormy weather.
At others, I am the calm breeze.
You worship the wrong deities.
You make wars misinterpreting me.
I am the sole Creator,
I am the only Conserver,
I am the real Destroyer.
And,
It is Me, who you should worship.
Jun 13, 2020
Jun 13, 2020 at 6:31 AM UTC