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Farah Taskin Oct 2023
There are pandemics,
epidemics,enmity,
earthquakes, floods,
famine, wildfire,
volcanic eruptions,
cyclones,simoom,
tornadoes,hurricanes,
peril, disease, death,
war,weapons,moreover,
oppressors in this planet
Do you want and love peace?
Earth is not the suitable place to live
for you.
Shannon Jeffery Jan 2015
Gusts of wind
Torrential cyclones
Tearing down your will
Whirring gales pushing me away

Be ******
I will
To allow the storm
To succeed

I will break through
These storms carrying you
No matter how hard you deny me
I'll clear your bad weather if it brings me to my knees

I will enter the eye
Of your storm
Expelling the darkness
No matter the ending, I'll try

Just remember
I'm here
Forever
My dear
Maybe she sees
Gentle rays of the sun
Glimmer from my face
Just like how I see her:
The light in the darkness
Of life's obscure fog

I wonder if she feels
The warm summer breeze
That would slowly blow
Upon her soft cheeks
Whenever I speak
The same breeze I feel
When she tells me
Nothings and somethings

I hope she feels
The slight glow
Of white moonlight
When my arms wrap around her
The very same glow
Whenever her arms
Lock themselves behind me
Sending me a message
To never let her go

I wish she forgets seeing
The heavy rains
That flood the roads on my face
Whenever I asked
If I were enough for her
Or if I were too much to handle

I wish she understands
The cyclones in my head
That clap thunder and flash lightning
Whenever the anger in me
Boils the chaotic saltwater
And creates tsunamis
In the vast ocean of my mind

I wish she forgives me
For the hailstorms in my words
That fall to the ground
And break like glass shards
That shatter windows and roofs
And car windshields and windows

I am a force of nature
NOLWAZI JOUBERT May 2016
He knows he likes her,
But he is not sure he can stand the cyclones around them.
She knows she likes him,
But there are just these obstacles standing in her way.
They know they are in love,
But what do they have to do to be convinced?

Oh! Boy, Oh!  Boy
Relationships! ,  relationships!
Commitments!
Compromises!
Sacrifices!
Attachments!
Support!
Fights!
Confusions!
And most of all.... 'LOVE'

You make me laugh when am not supposed to.
And smile when I dont have to.
You make me happy though I dont know the reason why.
You are the bright blossom of my clouded day.

He is a keeper,
And I hope she keeps him too
She is and Angel
And I hope he becomes hers too.
She hopes for a protecter
And I believe she has found one.
He hopes for a comforter
And I believe he has found one.

Everything is just wild,
With mediators on the side
And on lookers observing.
It is so hard to look at it and ignore,
But I am happy to know that the world around me still carries love.

He knows he loves her,
And I hope she loves him too.
For M.N and T.N

P. S I love you guys
Xoxo
Anais Vionet Feb 2023
Bustling corridors, places to go,
you can’t stand still or move too slow.
Make a plan, plot a course,
there’s an entire campus to traverse.
Other things are good to know,
like the best place for lunch
or where the wi-fi’s slow.

Last year, when there was lots of snow,
the Yale tunnel system was the way to go,
to warmly get from A to B,
when paths were dangerously icy.
This year there hasn’t been any snow
it guess it’s global warming, you know
- or that Pacific weather pattern, El Niño?

I miss the Nor'easters and bomb cyclones
the hazardous weather that made Yale seem like home
those storms were something I took for granted
‘Cause I want snow drifts like they have in Canada.

I left Georgia and now I’m feeling cranky
I want the winters God used to inflict on yankees
I remember when blizzards, up north, were doctrinaire
to stop them now isn’t fair - or something else näm-di-'ger.
BLT Marriam Webster word of the day challenge: Doctrinaire: “an idea stubbornly held onto”

näm-di-'ger (French) = means a pseudonym
Sjr1000 Nov 2013
Spring dances
Alley glances
Last chances
Internal cyclones spinning

I offered you golden words
without end

You gave me elusive lies

I offered you tender trances
places where music
never stops dancing

You gave me ******* lips
thin hips
silicone ****
wide eyes
hidden thighs
A curled finger which was a
a disguise

"Yes" was in your eyes
"No" was in your mind
In the words you said
You left me blind.

I didn't come for
The mask
The make up bit

I came for you that
golden woman inside
with the loving eyes

But I didn't have the alchemy
to turn your lead into poetry.
Seán Mac Falls Oct 2012
Her fine hands are gentle
With lithe and spiny fingers
Of bone and fin.

Her eyes are opal,
Essence of emerald and topaz,
A hoard of treasure.

Her hair is sea gathering
And dances in the blue currents
Deadly as the sea snake.

Her skin is coral,
Made of mineral and sorcery,
A fatal beacon.

Her lips are urchin,
Set in a whirlpool of face,
A spiral of doom.

Her voice is dream,
Rocking the lost wrecked ships,
Ground into sand.

Her long tail is fable
Of paradise, beyond faraway seas,
Cyclones and waves.
fools, ,you see ted bunny and ronnie biggs are saying the fools have been trapped in my snowstorm

and in the category 3 cyclone marcia in queensland, nobody listens to the ploy of cronus and barry allan

even if they are trying to keep them safe, and ted bundy who flew around aistralia trying too make

marcia and lam, really ruin australia, and keep these americans trapped in snowy weather, keep kids from

learning, by closing the schools, and cronus with barry allan’s help, was trying to get people to rally together

to make everyone happy, and safe, we can’t save everyone, but we could ****** well try

and then ted bundy said heh heh the fools, thinking these waters are safe to swim in, but ted isn’t shy

he is evil enough to make people lose their lives, we must listen to authorities as opposed for doing the

right thing, you see they call this nature, i call it cosmic attack, a really fierce cosmic attack, nobody can

see the clear sky ahead, in order for people not dying from this sort of thing, and that is, don’t do stupid things

ronnie biggs also is making the category 3  cyclones marcia and lam and a terrible snowstorm in the states

you see these vicious killers are doing more harm here, than they did on earth, they are ruining families

from all over the place, and elvis presley cancelled his neptune concert, to make the jewish messiah daniel

who is his earth body, to think that he needs to start thinking of trying to save people from these terrible

snowstorms and category 3 cyclones, you see, he thinks he is forcing the cyclone probably, but we all know

that ronnie biggs and ted bundy are forcing them, i think this country concentrates too much in celebrating

the jewish messiah’s previous life, and making him sleep like a pack of rich arrogant *****, but even if he

wants to work anywhere, he wanted to get into library studies but instead of that, he is playing all over

the planets, singing elvis is a schizophrenic and everyone seems fine with that, but, instead of looking

at relief web. int, you should help us finish off ted bundy and ronnie biggs evil and cunning plan, to

force the dreadful end of the world, you know what i think, if people listen to lifeguards and not going

out to these fierce seas, the end of the world wouldn’t come, we must pray to buddha, that these people

are safe, so when marcia hits, they are not out there battling the cyclone caused by ronnie biggs and

ted bundy, please, buddha help, cronus ands barry allan battle these dreadful spirits, ,and make the

storm ease, there are a lot of snow trapping innocent americans and all ted bundy and ronnie biggs

can say is heh heh heh, these fools are falling right into my trap

PLEASE BUDDHA SAVE THESE PLACES, MAKE PEOPLE SAFE BUDDHA

MAKE THE SURF LIFESAVERS, WORK HARDER TO PREVENT PEOPLE GOING OUT

MAKE PEOPLE IN THE USA, JUST SIT IT OUT

UMMMMMMMMMM UMMMMMMMMMMM UMMMMMMMMMM UMMMMMMMMMMM

ronnie biggs and ted bundy are sitting in saturn club rings saying foolish earthlings

they are falling right into my little trap
Aditya Roy Aug 2019
Happy roses on the parade, he was waiting for the 2 years to arrive
The album cover love the lover's wilting love in on Jesus' daughter in a tree, lovely sails it had
They fell when the autumn had arrived, **** your darling buds
Pygmies digging holes in the soil in their hearts of toil, falling prudently
Like leaves, the red justice, gold *****, in a curlicue of extra circulars

Touch on the washed-up Gurudeva, fixing holes in the faucets, the sunshine shines on our bad news, save us the supernatural darkness
The superstition of the Siamese cat, and the weeping lady
The flow is getting better, make love could we ever escape dark days and escape the midnight shines like good fillers on hydrogen delight, stars in the stare looking for the assets to darkness
Moonchild roses remembering the supermarket in America, that changed them, those who were pleased with the peaches incarnate in the cries of the last radio of the gold heads, buses of the sunflower tin cans
That cried an Eli book of poems, show me in the radiant illuminating blue eyes

I am walrus, I can make these songs okay touch tough but it was right to be alright
Ending a letter to Lennon on the twelfth night, the wrong from my lenience
My liege, my childhood here hath Earth omnipotent in areolar sprayed aerosol cans, we long these round holes and surmise of free prose in the inner moon
Light up the sadness

Album cover acrid as the midnight spoon, feeling sentimental
Tumescent buildings, my cheer, without imagination
You don't deserve possessions, you shot down dead weight
Carry the shine, in the confines of a painless razor of lacrosse, Billy shears brushing your head
I'm shaving my head, with the crowd in an instantaneous hung jury in the situation in the dalliance with the forgotten underwear, ******* my collegiate thumb
I want to write my own stuff with natural ecstasy and alliance of the hung jury in the psychotherapy, and the ******* ministerial preacher, saying please please me

You said you were
Struggling with the bugs, Pam
In your head, and hung bedbugs in your childish core, of faith as a person who loves the sibilant sounds
When I laugh as my head comes out of the plastic nation
Freed and staring into the distance, Ono here in the ballad hearin' sound laughter

Lead your path
To thine light ad thine veritas
There is thy will in every bright thought in
We thought up a bed, filled hat across the new man

We are not scared among the ranged beats, were dreaming style
Derailed from the tabula rasa, and waterfalls and lose our happiness in the morning
And search for the under in our childish souls

Hanging out in rainbows in cyclones  swirling like idiot winds
And they call me dumb, a bad person in studied simplicity
Simplicity is the kind of loving, giving the kindness of taking it gently
Failure is simply the opportunity to begin again, this time more searchingly

Already finding the end of life's meaning in the puddles of love
Find yourself in mother nature, and you can apply yourself, my friend my water, my shapeshifting friend and left the flower
And leave someone's shadow as we grow fond of the light, we start wondering if the starry skies in patched blackberries
"Knowledge speaks, but wisdom listens."- Jimi Hendrix
Seán Mac Falls Mar 2014
Her fine hands are gentle
With lithe and spiny fingers
Of bone and fin.

Her eyes are opal,
Essence of emerald and topaz,
A hoard of treasure.

Her hair is sea gathering
And dances in the blue currents
Deadly as the sea snake.

Her skin is coral,
Made of mineral and sorcery,
A fatal beacon.

Her lips are urchin,
Set in a whirlpool of face,
A spiral of doom.

Her voice is dream,
Rocking the lost wrecked ships,
Ground into sand.

Her long tail is fable
Of paradise, beyond faraway seas,
Cyclones and waves.
Quite the start to the weekend
There it goes, watch it ends
These pages are made of dust
What is half read is still unread
Tree of paper leaving glue trail
In search of the perfect bookmark
I found a place for receipts to recuperate

I locked eyes with Jupiter
On a wooden coffee table
The great counterclockwise storm
Ticking away with each drop
Disaster, sky without a star

Heaven receives blessings,
On slow workdays
When martyrs are lucky enough to live
We swore by that which divides day and night,
and fails to conquer either
That Faith must not pass the gate
Until they call for prayer
Until the square of crossroads is clear
Sometimes I feel like a disbeliever in Jerusalem

Prayers manifest duality as one
So shoulders can shrug in unison
Banal attempts to restore faith
Outrage is out of reach
The mind sets red-tape traps,
We call that mindless assertions
In the climate of trumpets and megaphones
Nothing escapes poltics
Vicious cyclones of “Breaking News" cycles
"I see pictures of children in faraway places that wreck me for a day"
Word Clouds disappearing
Thoughtfully,

Fantasies pursing beyond arms reach,
I selected you.

Dimensions providing proof
Of reality breaking truth

Cyclones aiming
Carefully, heartless

Was I a repeat?
Dominic Rewu Nov 2015
She's got typhoons,tsunamis and cyclones
But I won't scoff at that coz I've got my own
Uncontrollably, I hurricaned and showed that I'm wicked
And the apple of my eye was the only eye witness
She does enough to satisfy my lust for pain
Because she storms upon me with a hurtful rain
And she drowns me in her flood of tears
Tears caused by hurt inflicted over a dozen years
Now I ask myself just how much pain can this girl take?
Coz her heart has collapsed from many earthquakes
And shivered from blizzards and chilly colds
Left lifeless and no signs of revival like a dead flower, but still she rose
She loves with a fiery volcanic love
She fills me up with magma and I'll never  have enough
Coz me and her will live destructive ever after
Together we're a beautiful disaster.
Seán Mac Falls Nov 2013
Her fine hands are gentle
With lithe and spiny fingers
Of bone and fin.

Her eyes are opal,
Essence of emerald and topaz,
A hoard of treasure.

Her hair is sea gathering
And dances in the blue currents
Deadly as the sea snake.

Her skin is coral,
Made of mineral and sorcery,
A fatal beacon.

Her lips are urchin,
Set in a whirlpool of face,
A spiral of doom.

Her voice is dream,
Rocking the lost wrecked ships,
Ground into sand.

Her long tail is fable
Of paradise, beyond faraway seas,
Cyclones and waves.
The madness of money,
exploiting the human mind.
Never enough money,
never enough time.

The disasters of our time,
the result of natures resistance.
Rebelling against mankind,
Mother Nature can be persistent.

And while we watch the tide,
slowly go and rise,
we must remember, it won't be long,
till we are all gone.

Tornados and hurricanes,
wind whipping cyclones.
Heat waves and solar storms,
disrupting cell phones.

Landslides and flooding,
from torrential downpours.
Forrest fires and blackouts,
from ruthless lightening storms.

Some may say the sky is broken,
some may say the sky is crying.
This is natures rebellion,
Mother Nature is dying.

But our motive right now is money,
and nothing will stop our addiction.
We will pollute this world till the skies are black,
and when we do, there's no turning back.

Let the gaping hole in the ozone layer,
grow until it's big enough,
to burn our Earth down to the core,
till we are ashes, nothing more.

Mother Nature has sent her warnings,
Mother Nature, wish us goodbye.
Mother Nature will slowly die,
and nothing she does can change our minds...

We will destroy ourselves for money,
we will commit,
without knowing,
our own suicide.
Copyright Barry Pietrantonio
Seán Mac Falls Nov 2014
Her fine hands are gentle
With lithe and spiny fingers
Of bone and fin.

Her eyes are opal,
Essence of emerald and topaz,
A hoard of treasure.

Her hair is sea gathering
And dances in the blue currents
Deadly as the sea snake.

Her skin is coral,
Made of mineral and sorcery,
A fatal beacon.

Her lips are urchin,
Set in a whirlpool of face,
A spiral of doom.

Her voice is dream,
Rocking the lost wrecked ships,
Ground into sand.

Her long tail is fable
Of paradise, beyond faraway seas,
Cyclones and waves.
ted bundy traps the people of hawker, last night by cutting their power in a half hour blackout

and the hawker residents are either walking around with torches or simply struggling, and ted

bundy is enjoying this a lot, you see he really wanted to silence the mood of brian allan’s vivid imagination

but brian believes in the cosmos and he is sending cronus up there to work on returning hawkers power

and silence the cosmic criminal ted bundy forever and ever, but ted bundy wanted to silence brian, as his mind

as his mind is trying to avoid the teasing of the past, like, today, ted bunny was trying to get a kid to smile at brian,

saying, your like us now man, because you have an imagination and brian said, bundy, i want you to free us hawker

residents, by returning their power or i will get a keg of methane and pour it right through your head, and then cronus

said, i have kidnapped cronus away from his boy, ya know, your theory of mens kids watch the sport and youtubes

better than foxtel, ya see you will suffer brian allan and suffer forever and ever and ever with the other hawker residents

and you will miss your precious baseball match on television, and brian forced cronus to please give hawker back their power,

please give back our power, cronus worked harder and harder to get hawkers power back, but ted bunny’s power won’t budge

and ted bundy is laughing from up in mars saying foolish hawker earthlings, i have put a dark side into each one of their houses

they are tripping over each other, cool as, meanwhile cronus is trying and trying to get hawkers power back, saying please come back,

please come back, while ted bundy said, no i don’t want it to come back, hawker will be in the dark forever, the foolish earthlings they are

they are trapped in my wing, then cronus noticed some damp ***** rocks which was from the river and unknown to cronus, ted bundy

set these wild waters free to knock the electricity pole over and cause rain thunder and lightning, and cronus put 2 and 2 together

and cronus has discovered what ted bunny has been doing to cause cyclones and lightning causing blackouts in hawker, and cronus

worked and worked to restore the power back, by putting his foot in the muddy mars hollow and sliding down it, and when he arrived

at the base, cronus put a rock in the thunder break, and ding **** the power is back on, but ted bunny ran away, saying ha ha ha ha

i am causing problems for cronus and earthlings, and this will happen and happen again, so try and listen to climate change and

keep a torch handy, because ted bundy isn’t the only evil we have up here, causing havoc like this
Jacobe Loman Nov 2016
Sheltered under a tree of naivety.
Family failing to exist.
Each eye gazing above.
Dwarfed by clouds of misfortune.

Little flower holding on tight.
Doesn't seem to surrender without a fight.
Trickling leaves brush away.
Thunderous roar, bark decays.

Swarling winds with cyclones around.
Dancing words twist profound.
White fades to black.
Situation echos something nil.
Ending with a concussive shock.

Hands retrieve a golden watch.
Time sits still, unwilling to move.
Though, it's over; it's nothing new.

Argument interrupts tranquility.
Child left speechless, wondering "why?"
Shadows doom them all.
Together they cry.
Kiley Beck Dec 2015
Descending faster and faster into nightfall
The cool darkness enveloping me, comforting me, caressing me
The black sky like silk wrapping around me
       as I fell further,
further.

Speckles of stars splattered across the night’s canvas,
penciling in the constellations,
weaving an intricate web to catch me
       as I fell further into the depths of the night.

Cooing winds spun all around me,
whirling in playful cyclones
in and out of the web of stars.

I smile as I fall deeper into the night, perfectly content.
       As has always been,
       as always will be.
Sjr1000 Apr 2016
Births and deaths
Debts and success
Floods and droughts
Cyclones and hurricanes
Earthquakes and tsunamis
Misery
Chaos and serenity

All in flux
Milling about
Constant movement
Constant din
Silence within
Raging against
the dry dry winds.

Another restless moment
in the universe
Stars are born
go cold and die
Galaxies collide
Black holes
hold
no return
Super Novas
bring silence
to light years
eons wide

Another restless day
on the planet
in this our
moment of time
in this our place
in the universe.
Trapper Rein Dec 2013
I step out the back door, the cold rushes to my face.
Bringing with it the memories of the year’s recent past;
The winter stings my eyes, much like mace.
Oh how the memories return so fast.

The chill penetrates my bones,
bringing upon me an internal tremble.
The wind gusting likened to cyclones,
The chimes clash like a cymbal.

The precious gems burning overhead,
With nothing but a small ember for internal warmth,
I gaze upward, the sky as my bed,
Blowing the smoke north.
Bina Mukherjee Jun 2020
One early morning, when I was out in my garden,
I met a gorgeous Monarch butterfly dazzling.
I exclaimed...you are so bright and beaming,
will you help me paint my country with your wings so shining?
We have shades but they are all synthetic!!
I want your colours as they are organic and enduring.

Cyclones, floods and cataclysm have washed-out the beauty of my land..i sighed!
I shall paint your land with my elegant wings...he replied!!
Paint my land with the colours of the tricolour.

The top may be painted with bold saffron.

The pure white colour of yours may then flow through the heart of the land .

My friend, paint the final part with the soothing hue of green.

And at last, splash a colour of your choice to cover up all the dents and fungus that had cropped up in our hearts for so long.
These are our colours..my countrymen must not forget
We are one and we stand united!

The Monarch smilingly said, "I shall do what you say, but promise me to keep them the same as I start painting from today".🦋🦋🦋🦋
Bina Mukherjee
Janelle Tanguin Jul 2019
You found me
stuck staring
at rearview mirror reflections
of wintry, dusk intersections
of everything leaving me
all at once.
A forced exhale
of asphyxia caged
in collapsing lungs;
my mouth,
a fountain spring,
that coughed out
pools of blood.

I wish I saw myself
the way you saw me;
not a red traffic light
wounding speeding cars
on winding streets,
but an antique heirloom
priceless enough
you'd only wish
you could keep
in a heart-shaped box
you saw in dreams.

But, I'd cut my tongue,
paint my lips cherry shades
to blend with cells that'd stain
handkerchiefs you'd offer.
Make you believe
this isn't going to foster
because you are indecision,
unfinished watercolor landscapes
of summer forest fire skies,
a sun-kissed Pacific wanderer.
And I am true crime
untouched evidence of break-ins,
remains of faulty locks and lights.
I am mosaics misaligned;
static, seabed cracks
from forgotten fault lines.
Gaping fissures of sand,
and salt that won't let me stitch
frayed skin-deep fibres
barely holding me in.

Oceans would have to empty themselves
into whirring cyclones and high tides
for our selfish sense of touch to collide.
Ice caps would have to sink
deep enough to even bruise my skin.
And I wouldn't want to watch
more Shakespeare end
before it begins.

See, I am the one
with sharp edges,
but why
did you have to be the one
to clip my wings?


There is only an abyss
without a trampoline,
a safety net,
a bed of waterlilies,
I could fall in.
And I am so tired
of paradoxes
and ironies;
of always being wanted
by someone who doesn't even
want to be kept,
of always being mended
and then left
with more dislocations,
and fractures,
one after another
each taking longer to fix.

Now, in shapeless parcels,
without return addresses
sent out into the void
these words will echo
of love
I never intended to borrow,
and shadows
of false hope
you never thought yourself
capable of
giving away.
Mon aux deux tiers divine,
Toute laine et marjolaine
De douceur et délicatesse,
Courrais-tu, bufflesse, les steppes
Avec ton ombre d'argile
A la recherche du plant de jouvence
Semé aux Treize Cyclones
Qui hantent les îles-fleurs du bout du monde ?

A chaque cyclone aux ailes brisées
Qu'offrirais-tu, Gilgamesh, mon ombre immortelle
Dans le nigredo causal et a-causal où se fond l 'abîme ? ?

Au Cyclone-gel, la baguette et le cerceau ?
Au Cyclone-mauvais, le taureau céleste ?
Au Cyclone-tempête, la Forêt de Cèdres ?
Au Cyclone-rafales, le corps de la Joyeuse ?
Au Cyclone-tourbillons, les hommes-scorpions ?
Au Cyclone-du Nord, les cyprès ?
Au Cyclone-poussières, les gazelles ?
Au Cyclone-du Sud, les Enfers ?
Au Cyclone-de l'Est, le Déluge ?
Au Cyclone-de l 'Ouest, la nuit d'étoiles ?
Au Cyclone-tornade, le sourire des hyènes ?
Au Cyclone-mortifère, le feu éphémère ?
Au Cyclone-souffleur, le feu éternel ?
mûre Oct 2013
You were the greatest neuronal reorganization to ever happen,
of course I don't know who I am anymore.

What was plastic seems changed to stone in a gargoyle brain and beneath a microscope the shimmering glia spell out your name over and over in little green lights, fossilizing the neurons that say:

Him.

The earth has an edge. Nobody wants to fall off.

So call me Homer, because the gods themselves could not convince me my situation's a sphere there's far too much fear in this flattened plane that understands only primitive desires and just wants you near.

Everyone knows the romanced brain could be mistaken for a ******* addict's.

But perhaps if you look more closely into my eyes you will see my irises have turned stormy, that cyclones of energy are becoming patterns that scribble and scribble arcane suggestions for a new cartography. A new story. A new being.

Supplies needed:
One strong pencil.
Enough oxytocin to unlearn an addiction.

Enough optimism to overcome an affliction, my diction is code for the way you kissed me and it underlines every sentence like the way a voice rises when asking a question.

I have so many questions.

And even though the notion of who I will be when I am not you terrifies me, like Cathy and Heathcliff I will not be doomed to roam the moors, already I know there's endlessly more, and with or without you the best is yet to come. Just as they say. No, I don't know what's in store. But I think that's okay.

Turn golden, Grey Matter, light up 'til you burn.

Reboot.
Restart.
Rewire.

*Relearn.
A primitive attempt at beat poetry.
George Krokos Apr 2014
My Comments On A Thesis Titled:

Capitalism *****! Cold War Starts Up Again! Nuclear War Looms! (See Note #1 below)
By Wolf Larsen on March 27th, 2014, 6:32 pm

Hi Wolf,
It is very pertinent that you have posted this thesis in "In the Trenches" section of the AT forum and it seems that you have also raised some valid points about what has been or is going on in the world these days. A lot of people will perceive the current world situation as a foregoing fulfillment of Bible prophesy no doubt and there is a religious program on TV called "Tomorrows World" that raves on about such things and what is or will be taking place. While I am a little more condescending towards your views expressed here than in the Poetry section with the The Rats and Cockroaches Will Inherit The Earth (See Note #2 below) piece submitted on the same date I am much more optimistic about what is happening in the world. Though as a matter of caution or fact I have to say that your views given in the above piece (the one posted in this section) need to be treated with respect and deserve some credit in the way you have presented the whole argument in this thesis. There is no doubt that things are reaching boiling point and that sooner or later something is likely to happen which may depict a "worst case scenario" in the future but what if we, the one's who are seeing the impending catastrophe about to unfold, take preventative measures and not allow it to happen. I will quote here one of my couplets in support of what I have just said:

Simple Observation #128
To reverse the trend, where possible, of an adverse condition or situation
one must take certain specific opposite measures with due consideration.

We have all been reminded in the past due to what has been handed down to us in the form of Scripture or Bible Prophesy, fictional tales and other "end time stories" that when we (as individuals or humanity as a whole) don't do the right thing a bad thing follows and this is universally known. This has been going on for thousands of years since the dawn of mankind and civilization but as far as the present time goes it has reached exponential proportions due to the ever increasing global population with consideration of all the new technology being invented and produced along with nuclear weapons that could if unleashed decimate the whole planet. The other matter I wish to point out here is that if we don't stop or try to reverse the trend of things moving towards our own doomsday or self destruction as a whole then the forces of nature will get to us in the meantime. This has been happening lately with ever increasing frequency since the industrial revolution started almost 200 years ago due to our plundering of natural resources and the resulting in mass polluting of the environment and the air we breathe. We have in fact been upsetting the natural balance and harmony of nature on the planet, which is really a living entity still evolving just as we are, and because of this it is reacting in ways that are manifesting such as cyclones, earthquakes and other natural disasters let alone all the so called climate changes that are slowly but surely taking place as well.

We have a huge battle on our hands that is taking place on two fronts:
the first being outer dealing with our own progress involving technological advancement which isn't a bad thing provided we do the right thing by nature and the environment and this is not really happening as it should and could be,
the second being inner dealing with our own stupidity and ignorance in the form of pride,(including anger and jealousy) greed and lust for power. I hereby quote one of my quatrains in support of what has just been stated:

Quatrain #93
With all of the technology that's around these days
have we not in fact become enslaved by its ways?
It should be used towards the immediate benefit of all mankind
eliminating poverty, hunger, disease and to enlighten the mind.


I also agree with most if not all of the things that Miss Take (Doreen) has mentioned in her comments under this topic as well.

Regards
George K.
Note #1 A very disturbing thesis and if anyone would like to read the full article and comments use the link given below: 
www.algonquinstable.net/viewtopic.php?f=20&t;=23295

Note #2 to read the poem and comments use the link provided here:
www.algonquinstable.net/viewtopic.php?f=27&t;=23294

PS: If the above two links don't work correctly to display the two titles referred to just copy whichever one of the two links for the topic you wish to read and delete the semicolon (i.e. ;) towards the end of the address in your browser then hit enter. I have tried to correct them but the system won't recognize the edit and keeps on ignoring my effort to do so. Could be a bug in the system.
Seán Mac Falls Jun 2012
Her fine hands are gentle
With lithe and spiny fingers
Of bone and fin.

Her eyes are opal,
Essence of emerald and topaz,
A hoard of treasure.

Her hair is sea gathering
And dances in the blue currents
Deadly as the sea snake.

Her skin is coral,
Made of mineral and sorcery,
A fatal beacon.

Her lips are urchin,
Set in a whirlpool of face,
A spiral of doom.

Her voice is dream,
Rocking the lost wrecked ships,
Ground into sand.

Her long tail is fable
Of paradise, beyond faraway seas,
Cyclones and waves.
Again life cycles to a clutter, ideas thought through

don't anymore seem as though,

even when expressed aloud and not within.



Maybe they're right,

my ignorance is only withholding wonders

I struggle to actually see.  



Hypocritically, I find importance in self enrichment

and observing from afar.

and yet even from a distance you feel so close.



Is this an evolution or is it just another mutation.

Obscure out of any cultural norm, I resonate

impairing those who hear my words.



This constant metamorphosis has left me staring in the mirror for

hours, searching for the presence of my subjected  form.



Yet,



while I peer into the interworkings of my reflection

to observe what I actually see...



With all truth, it holds a boy,

an awkwardly timid boy.



Insecurely gazing back into the pupils

of his reality.



He's bellowing inside his

submerged mind.



Subconsciously Blurting:



"Do not turn back,  

their are cyclones that await.



And all that is required

to overcome this task



is to go forth without

pondering times long gone...





So here I am, engaulphed

in tidal winds.



I must break loose;



grow, starting from

below.
steven Aug 2015
fall to pieces on the
carpet, disembodied
fragments, pretty pink
petals making messages
as they waltz with air
particles, spinning in
cyclones oscillating in
orbits before landing a
curtsy on the cotton,
each shard of us a
miracle dancing to
earth song and reverie
"What's your ideal relationship?"
hurry boy, don't doze
etch the words before they perish
as the situation once again alters
coiling around your wrist
tugging you to that place
sleep every moment
dwelling in the blankets
soaking in that stale security
false impressions attached/removed
like velcro ripping in the silence
masks on masks on masks on masks on masks on
could spend days pruning in the seabed of potential
while the salt collects on my eyelashes and the days vanish like eons
there are days where the stillness in me quakes my feet
into the fervor of rabbit under moving tire and
I pound the walls for a train to pass and shake the foundation
but the tracks are too far away now, and the stillness creeps
dust collects on the fan blades, then the plastic grating, then the intake
the thing rattles all night now; loose ***** in the front
hardly a substitute for that rumble in your dreams
from an archer daniel's car rushing by at four
the bed is a lot better at this place though
king size, though I'd rather be in california
where the water is warm and the memories catch your falls
I've never been there and the idea is always better than the outcome
kicking sand like a beach bully *** flexing in strut
sun burns within seconds of shirtless self-reveals
the salt is being washed off of the cars
from an illinois winter that the plow conquered to the dismay of
the kids down the block who still waited
at dawn for the diesel yellow groan
the heat is swelling in the season
chirps return with the sting
of rolled up passenger windows
magnifying the clean white light
ninety-eight million miles marched
to a single point on a pale dot
burning that poor gal's cheek
but the medicinal effects
of the smooch are more than known
to generations of the summer awakened,
free-falling, reality born.
here we are again with showers and flowers,
here we are again with cyclones in the alley,
here we are again with cocoons and buffoons,
here we are again with milk in the valley.
this heart pumps as the snow goes rising
to the funnels and pillars east-stretched
where the baby boomers buy plots and
the love begins to reach for an even share.
tlp
Liv Sep 2014
you and i met with too much in common
and last time i checked,
two sad people
will rarely be happy together
we are cyclones, filled with emotion
destructive, powerful
and somehow beautiful.

amid the wreckage of destroyed cities
we destroyed ourselves
Jun Lit Jun 2018
Among faded photographs piled up
in this grey-haired archive
your faces still shine like the smiling suns
that used to greet me - that little child
you called bunsô, the dawn’s speck
still in these brown eyes -
in the quiet and cold early mornings,
as I stared to the eastern skies
orange above the dearly missed Malarayat
of blues, and greens, and cones, and salakot
and as the last of the kabag bats
- guts filled with the insects of the night -
go home between our roof and ceiling,
the warmth of your call were tight hugs.

Your old picture comes alive -
like the first gulps of kapeng barako encouragements
that drained down the bullied throat of yesteryears
- the old radio broadcasts loudly the silenced tears
as the dozen hens were cackling the latest from the Beatles
and the lone rooster belts the Only You of the Platters
That time I tossed and threw far
the white grains of tattered notebooks to scatter
for the newly hatched chicks to patiently gather
Everything was an Amorsolo-replica, a summer
of joyful harvesting, harvest time, harvester . . .

Hope was the bottomless well beside the mango tree
The pig pens my palace, the chicken shed my tower of ivory
The rabbits are lords- and ladies-in-waiting
I was their prince in a kingdom that I made free
from hordes of aswang, tikbalang, kapre, dwende . . .
nothing to fear, really
but for the hairy caterpillars
hiding among the yellow confetti
of ******* trees, in the backyard
of distant day-dreaming days of dreams.

You made the noontime suns brightly lit
the roads and crossings the three little pigs
of my inner self have to trot,
for the distant future was a pack of cunning wolves
ready to devour all my mortal miscalculations,
infantile indecisions, and immature decisions,
and loud and strong they huffed, and puffed and blew
my self-esteem, whatever was left, beaten black and blue.
A hero plays mahjong, nothing really new,
as my teen life’s pages fell, no Redeemer ever knew
It was like tiles of dominoes - one after the other - on cue.

And yet at the siesta time of this human life,
your guiding photons allowed
this tired body with a ******* soul, yet beating heart
to rest, picking up each of the pieces
and the jigsaw of experiences
now make sense, a rainbow shows
as the skies emptied their jars
of tempting clouds like cotton candies
into a downpour of doubts, of tempests
of feelings of emptiness, of cyclones
of thoughts of worthlessness –
the suns were shining always
after all
behind the clouds
those clouds

In the sunsets of your lives
the rays still shone far beyond
the twilight time and in these humid tropics
your mem’ries are auroras in the darkest of my nights
even in my sleep, the dreams are video clips
always set inside that old Marauoy home
reminding me, there was that child in there, alone . . .

These days, the skies, the winds, remind me
of stormy days in the forgotten simplicity of Lipa,
you tied the windows as the gusts
threatened to grab them,
and then, the warm jackets and blankets
of your reassuring words, “we’ll be alright”
erased the traumas, blew away the fears.
reminding me, there was that child in there,
you dried his tears . . .

That child’s still here inside my decades-old heart,
like a prayerful devotee in an agnostic cathedral,
missing your hugs
longing for your cheers.
Notes on some Tagalog words used in the poem:
bunsô - youngest child
Malarayat - name of the group of mountains to the east of Lipa City in Batangas
salakot - native wide-brim hat, usually woven from palm leaves or fashioned out of hardened skin of gourds; one of the Malarayat mountains is shaped like it
kabag - small species of bats, usually the insect-eating kinds
kapeng barako - brewed native coffee, usually of the Liberica variety
aswang, tikbalang, kapre, dwende - names of feared elementals in the native folklore/mythology, respectively referring to: flying, bat-winged, half-bodied woman that eats internal organs; half-horse, transformable half-human; giant cigar-smoking male being inhabiting big, usually fig or banyan trees; dwarf or gnome
mahjong - Chinese game of tiles
siesta - midday resting time, usually for quick naps
Marauoy - old barrio (village) in Lipa City
Lipa - old town in Batangas, which became a city, the first in the province, after the second World War

— The End —