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Geetanjali dogra May 2020
Maa teri meri yadein boht achi thi
Tu jo bhi kehti thi boht sachi thi,

Yaad hai mujhe aaj bhi wo pal maa
Bimaar mai hoti thi taklif tujhe hua karti thi,

Tu kabhi na bhuli mere khane ka samey maa...
Qki maa tu hi toh khane ki plate mere aggey piche ghumaya karti thi,

Wo teri aloo, pyaz wali khaniya maa
Jisko sunn k sach mai maan liya karti thi,

Kya khub sundarta thi tere bhole se chehre pay maa...
Jo meri saheliya bhi gunn tera hi gaya karti thi,
Maa ...qki teri meri yadein boht achi thi
Tu jo bhi kehti thi boht sachi thi,

Jab pehli baar un chote se hathon se chai bnayi thi maine
Yaad hai , tu sab rishtedaro mai yahi gaya karti thi,

Har baat k liye zidd bht ki Maine tujhse
Par aakhir mai meri khushi k liye haa tu hi bharrti thi,

Bht ladai ki sabne mere liye tujhse maa
Lekin har pal sath khadi tu hi mila karti thi,

Maa teri meri yadein boht achi thi
Tu jo bhi kehti thi boht sachi thi,

Bht si horror movies bhi dekhi tere sath maa aur tu kahani ka pehlu phele hi bta diya karti thi,

Bht hase bhi sath mai roye bhi sath mai
Aaj jab dekhti hu toh ansu apne aap nikal k beh jate hai,
Bachpana samjho ya nadaniya samjho
Par tere hi aggey hua karti thi,

Tu Maa thi ya meri dost thi
Qki tu bhi toh bacho jaise harketin kiya karti thi,

Aaj bhi wahi tera chehra dikhta hai mujhe maa , teri wahi awaaz sunayi deti hai,
Lekin bevas tu hai ya mai hu aisa mnn mera kehta hai maa,

Qki maa teri meri yadein bht achi thi
Sach mai Tu jo bhi kehti thi bht sachi thi.

Wapas se wahi samhe jeena chahti hu tere sath maa..
Par sochti hu tu yaha ayegi ya mai waha au maa,

Sach Drr lagta hai duniya se maa ab
Jee paungi ya tut jaungi mai ab,

Kitni bholi thi maa tu humesha se
Qki jhuti ya sachi sab maan liya karti thi,

Yaad hai mujhe aaj bhi jab scooty meri band hoti thi
Toh kick tu hi mara karti thi,

Wah kya paranthe aur rajma banati thi maa tu
Jo saheliya hi sabse phele khaya karti thi,

Itni sachi aur achi maa thi tu
Warna mujh jaise nalayak bache ko tu hi sambhala karti thi,

Maa dubara se wo maa sabd tere aggey tujhe bolna chahti hu fir se
Kya tu dubara janam legi milne k liye mujhse,

Ek baar toh ake gale lga le maa mujhko
Fir se wahi pyara bacha bnke dikhaungi tujhko,

Yaad hai maa mumma's lil girl ka tattoo maine bnwaya tha tere liye
Lekin jab ghar pauchi toh dekhte hi dil baith gya tha mere liye
Maa tu sda zinda rahegi dil mai mere
Qki Sach keh rahi hu mera wajood hi hai tere liye,

Maa bharosa kar mera
bharosa nahi todungi tera
Ab aa hi jana maa bacha hu tera.
Brian Foote Jan 2017
NO...!,
All is gone,
Sudden Devastation,
Collapsed by gravity's agony,
Devoid of warning,
Can't breath, can't think,
It's true!, can't escape!,
Explanation means NOTHING,
It's NOT okay!
It's NOT alright!,
Won't accept it,
CALL for help,
CALL Today,
CALL RIGHT NOW,
CALL
Toll free- God doesn't give a sh#%^

Let it be,
Set it free,
Be at peace,
Embrace the hate,
You're just an overgrown monkey,
Anyway,
Life *****, then you die,
Laugh,
Life's a joke,
Joke's on you!
Me too,
What a ride,
Ready?
Don't commute suicide,
Ha
Live and learn......,
........Love and die,
Ug, sigh,
Alry!
Drr
Whatever
-Peace-
Good bye

-b-
Still Crazy Jun 2019
drrry spells

~for the r in all of us~

a normanative condition, a kitchen condiment, an un-relished
I’m-in-a-pickle relish, when there in no hot **** dogged doggedly poem perspiration in the fridge or anywhere to be found; nothing but a top sliced bun, ah, plain buns, old stale dog ones is all ya got left for dinner, during one of them there drrry spells that
no blonde tanned unweathered weatherperson ever
forecast correctly

Normanative? Oh yeah.

the tyranny of the white, white bread, the white, whittle ya down screen, couture-cold water from tap direct, neck bent, jugged to try and fail to wash down that lumpen ball of dog fur brain drain clog that’s backing up the paper words, in a stomach churning brine holding you back from reaching the top of the Mt. Everest,

rite Normanative?

Normanative.Oh yeah. Son of Norma and Normally.
It’s in the bibell, look it up!

she-he is my pooka, (nope, uh-uh, look it up) a six foot tall rabbit,
climbing up my brain stem, strategically strangling my words like
a flea killer collar round my neck, one that actually visually works,
my flea bit words fall to the floor, to live with the dust mites descendants of the ole south, drafts and rejection letters, all whose blessed memory may never die etc. etc.

that was the condition of my normanative condition when I dropped in (yup, look it up),

Norman sarcastically asking, how’s the weather up there,
any rain in that-northern-brain, down here it’s as dry as an southern old dog porch panting in Jewlie, breathiny out summer hottie poems, write out like it’s crazy going out of style, oh yeah, forgot
you don’t speak dawg that well.

so I don’t know nothing about your drry spells, just climb into
the hottest hot tub, staying all the summer months if necessary,
reading old poems about busted hearts, old dogs, unrealized loves that can’t be forgot, promises kept that one never made, other curses,
battlefields of yore, sweatin’ out the toxins till r
sends along a new one, rocking my toenails to my disbelieving eyes,
for I’m a mentally patient person,
whose never seen a drrry spell so long, that was not worth
wading thru, waiting for, till something busted out and
another thunderstorm of a literary good one, errr come along

like I said, I’m a mental patient man, still crazy after all these years...
(yup, that too, you could look it up if ya made this far)
Mateuš Conrad Aug 2020
this ungodly hour come the first past
midnight...
nothing has been achieved...
not really not anything to tease
a mirror into shattering...

                             i could have raised
a pagoda in the garden...
                     and orchestrated lights
beneath it...
drank a beer with gloat...
still nothing...

      somehow saved up 2,700 quid
and thought: perhaps the brothel?
somehow to make cake of
two bodies alien to each other?

how about i buy a bicycle?

   then the thought of...
           private health... notably dentistry...
i very much like the idea
of using private practice to...
treat a tooth...
       i was told that the next tier
of treatment is a root-canal...
that this was the last use of any filling's
worth...
unlike my grandmother
i'm not to keen to pull my teeth
out... to wait for a bouquet
of prosthetics with teeth and
fake gums...

               the little money i have
the more i think about private fees for
densitry...
             quiet impossible to justify pleasure
by now...
give me a kippah and no *******
and who's not a happy bunny?

             even if a socrates is cited
by cicero: the soul (of the philosopher)
       treats the body with contempt and seeks
to escape from it...

fair enough... but what if thinking implodes
and becomes an oyster noumenon...
thought: a medium
between itself active and it vacant
(res vanus) -
                
   what if the sigma-animation tension
of soul is...
    a claustrophobia = thinking...
         lately thinking has become a claustrophobia...
i ask the body to remind me
of: how i unconsciously best know
to throw at a bullseye...
to ride a bicycle...

   the soul and its contaminated
yet to: subsequently none of it to be
explored... banquet of dialectics...
          the truth of opinions...
  as if... waiting for...
        some "other" orthodoxy...
to move toward...
very simple, forgiveable...
                        cul de sac eventualities
of life...
           to be somehow caste into a reflection
on the subject of the sea...
some variant of the elevated mirror...
sea and the added dimension of time...

yet still: thinking has become
a claustrophobia...
    
for me the genesis: and add of abstraction
was always thought,
and the exodus too, thought...

rare to find this gross elaboration
of thought: the "moral" -ought
into the confines of... the peacock
that's consciousness:
           tier below con-science...

that somehow facts could be a con(-)
and manipulated thus...

i'm yet to finish dickens' pickwick
papers...
but the edition i started with
was over 150 years old and therefore
encompassed tender binding...
i'm waiting for a cheaper
paperback edition:
and a trip to Loon'don...
i want to "the end" upon some
variation of transit...

çpectial: spe'SH'al...
          spez-            et al.
                         spectate...
                 arranging less a river:
ratio... narrative...
and more... cuckoo and cucoon...
it's all here:

      as if... vowels were odd numbers
and consonants were even numbers...
clearly:

                  TH

   θought... the surg of GH...
            
                   but:  θe...
           in that it's V'eh... definite article:
exactly! the point!
it's not a feather: nor a feafer!

   fe(r)-ver!
                                clearly diagnosed
articulations...
well then... english is as "bad" as fwench...
lost the trill-R and harking are we?
Tolstoy's i'm still eager to re(a)d...
past participle: not the colour, i.e. red...

otherwise: reed: i.e. read...
        the             æ               siamese twin
adam & eve **** and a d.n.a. circus
for: lost, "forgot"... ****** passing on...
the complexity...
of the success of gay outliers
with their satanic grins...

   ænema of the state: project solo...
a cough medicine... drip drip drr... err:

            i see a word i hear
two variations...
and the two variations...
unlike
                  ... please... tease me with
algebra...
                √a = ą

                            cushion!
let's tease!

                much easier with shared...
etymology...
congested / confused...
constipated:

                SH(arp) = SZ(arp) =
                       Š(arp) = Ш(arp)...

              CH(eap) = CZ(eap) =
                Ч(eap) = Č(eap)....

                in that there are modified short-scripts
of numbers...
     h / ч / μ and just one more
and we'll have ourselves
a full guise of a copernican rotation...
geocentric!
with the use of two mirrors!

it's sitting blatant and in my lap
useless as moth *****...

but the idea of exploitation...
i think of...
the many times i would care
for raw meat: in how i would
tender it...
explore it with the metaφor
of butterfly...
and tender fingers; loss of bone...

                my marathon foundation...

there are two F's...
    sounds alike...
but when written...
          i.e. thought / philosophy

the infinite space of: θ "=" τη
                           and of φ "=" πη
                                                (no greek will
tell you the difference between η
                                                 and "3" / epsilon)
mongol brides yet to be attired...

   it's actually impossible to write thus...
hell...
emperor claudius:

   Ⅎ = φ
    F = θ                   and cHeap...
             or pHilosopHy...
            and tHought...
          etc.

          i hear a sound... but then i can't see it...
the "difference" being...
changing alphabets it no new knot of
nuance...
                     hear a yarl...
speak a... "speak" a yawn...
a yawn is a noun
for the otherwise onomatopoeia...
a sigh: to boot...
no... noithing greater worth of
a sight...
nor a sigh...

                         it's the worst
sort of music! un- or -imaginable!

— The End —