Substituting communication
for mere contact.
Self image produced with every shared post.
Basing your worth
on how many tap their finger.

When people become numbers
and reading someone's tweets
is enough to count as friendship

Convincing ourselves that life should have an edit option

Have we forgotten the tangible world?
real and uncut
above the square illusions residing in our hands

JB was on my mind
Too many times
Everything he ever talked about
Became my walk my talk
My singing and shouts

I knew from the start that it would have an end.
I can't ever seem to get used to these new beginnings.

I fell into manipulation
I'm recovering
Trying and recycling...
Recovering

My old and new beliefs
The old and new me
Trying to become
What I've always
Been
Seeker of light
Prayer of health
Child of God
Teacher
People pleaser

_


He she won't be ANY GOD TO ME
I DON'T KNOW WHAT I'M SAYING ANYMORE
HELP ME
LORD HELP ME
LORD HELP ME
Father Father help me

When I look at you,
I see someone I adore
Someone who is beautiful, sweet, and kind
The imperfections I do not mind

When I look at you,
I see you are fading away
Into a state of decay
And yet still beautiful and sweet
But fighting something you cannot defeat

When I look at you,
I see someone who has been hurt from the beginning
And someone who's love of life is dwindling
I don't care, I will be there
Through thick and thin
I will be there to lift up your chin
I am going to be there for you
There are things I wish you knew

When I look at you,
I see someone I love
I will be there;
Until you can fly free like a dove

this isn’t going to make sense
cause it’s not supposed to
and if I’m being honest
this isn’t for you
it’s not even for me

I’m stuck
I’m trapped
I’m lost
I’m every other word that describes people who feel at a dead end

I’m typing on a ****** phone
That’s connected to a ****** connection
That could possibly be a metaphor for my life

I’m writing
Because I don’t know what else to do

I’m writing
Cause that’s what they told me to do

But they also told me that what I think isn’t always true
That I’m special and I just don’t see it

But that’s the thing
I don’t see it

And if I don’t see it then why should it matter if anyone else does

And if I’m thinking something why should it matter if it’s true

What matters is that it’s in my head
What matters is that it’s always there

But here I am
Stuck in the same place
Back to square one
No progress made
The same questions, whether true or not

Will I amount to anything?
Do I really help?
Am I really worthwhile?
Do you actually care?

I see these people
When I’m online
They smile and post
They edit and pose

I can’t help but wonder

Do you really smile, or do you just do it to look happy like me?
Do you really feel happy, or are you trying to lie like me?
Do you understand what I feel?

Or is it just me?

I’m not trying to be selfish
I don’t want a lot
I just want to be happy
And I want others to be happy with me
But neither is happening

So instead there’s a poem
That doesn’t even ryhme
That makes no sense
  I’ll try harder

2010 one last remark about Mom she’s never had faith or trust in me she always doubts redirects me when i was little she continuously blamed me accusing me of being sick needing a psychiatrist at age 20 my parents committed me for disciplinary reasons to the Institute of Living a psychiatric hospital in Hartford Connecticut in a locked ward for 4 months Mom and Dad discouraged my aspirations to succeed as a painter/writer arguing the impracticality of my decision they thumbs downed Bayli even today she undermines my efforts to love protect her she scolds me for asking permission from my cousin Chris to allow his son Maynard to fly down here and help me pack then drive up to Chicago so i might get to know Maynard on a road trip she instructs hire professional packers for a $100. they’ll be glad to help you pack Mom has always stood in the way of my choices decisions



1975 Chicago in his parent’s kitchen Mom offers the cannolis are fresh from Kanella’s Bakery or try the chocolate fudge cake it’s absolutely delicious Odysseus replies are you trying to fatten me up or **** me with sweets Mom flirtatiously teases i’ve always been about your ruination Odys



2001 Tucson Mom comes for visit at Thanksgiving in her early 80s walking proud yet painfully on displaced hips she is an inspiration to Odysseus her eyes are clouded with cataracts yet she sees life as an eternal optimist since 1920 the world has changed so drastically yet Mom has learned to accept many things she previously did not tolerate she lives prudently on modest fixed income her fingers are arthritically deformed but she was once a great beauty many men desired her Odysseus asks if it was difficult for Mom to lose the power of her physical desirability he noticed her good looks waning in her 50s she answers she sensed her  attraction going in her 70s she still possesses regal qualities and is quite socially charming she chatters a flurry of familiar names events that keep her busy she travels around by herself Mom’s spirit endures but in reality she drifts further away with each passing season she is delicate and has difficulty remembering she echoes a distant past in the early evening of Thanksgiving Day they sit at table of elegant yet rather staid dining room of Mom’s choosing at Arizona Inn she says it reminds her of the way things used to be she wears tasteful black linen slacks black pumps thin silk knitted black turtleneck with string of pearls gold earrings her blonde hair coiffured in same fluffy sprayed style it has been for 50 years in his heart he knows a part of her wishes her son was more like Tom Steinberg who was a senior when Odysseus was a freshman at River Woods Academy The Steinbergs and Mom are still friendly Tom is a successful investment banker with a wife and child living in Winnetka Mom nervously touches the pearl strand around her neck she says you know Mort Rock’s wife Phyllis died i was such a good friend to her at her funeral they read how she said i was her best friend she left me 10 lousy thousand dollars in her will she’s worth millions it’s eating me up inside i needed that money desperately i can’t stop thinking about it 10 lousy thousand dollars went immediately to pay off loans i’m going to sell my jewelry i don’t know what i can get in the spring i’ll put the apartment up for sale or try to get a reverse mortgage from the bank i never told you kids before i’m not in good shape Odysseus comments i feel terrible i wish so much i could help maybe Phyllis Rock suspected you and her husband maybe all those years you were her best friend she read it as guilt and obligation Mom you need to be more truthful Mom cuts in i never had *** with Mort Rock that man drove me crazy he was nuts for me Mom orders the traditional turkey dinner Odysseus orders the Macadamia nut encrusted Hawaiian fish the waiter brings price fixed appetizers little circles of toasted bread with lightly browned melted cheese tiny triangular cucumber and cream cheese sandwiches roasted watercress nuts wrapped in bacon and little hot dogs pierced with fluffy ended toothpicks Mom begins to gobble as she remarks to Odysseus  why do you want to wear your hair like that? you look like you escaped from the camps Odysseus asks what camps are you referring to Mom? she replies the Concentration Camps! you’re a good-looking man and you still have a full head of hair why do you want to shave it off i don’t understand i think you should move back to Chicago Tucson has done nothing to offer look at you you’re all alone you don’t have any friends come home and be your old self again he answers my old self you don’t get it do you Mom do you remember my commodity trading debacle or my 40th birthday or you and aunt Rita’s ceaseless corrections Mom smugly retorts what do you mean your 40th birthday don’t you get smart with me you should be ashamed of yourself why must you keep bringing up the past you need to let go of the past you go into such details details i don’t remember what does it matter now it’s history we only wanted what we thought was best for you you never listened you were only interested in yourself plenty of other kids get beaten and come through just fine you don’t know what it’s like to be a parent it tears me up inside you talk like you had nothing to do with it i can’t take this abuse from you anymore her misshapen fingers hands begin trembling as her voice emotes you think i don’t realize we made mistakes with you you think we were such monsters i wasn’t a good mother i was a lousy ***** is that what you think answer me what are you a bump on a log Odysseus sits stiff in chair his voice shrinks he just sits there his legs shake under table Mom says your father was quick-tempered we were under so much financial pressure maybe we did send you away too soon if i had to do it again i’d do it differently what does it matter now it’s 50 years ago forget the past what do you want from me what can i do he listens silently wondering if Mom seeks some kind of redemption can her conceit permit it he knows he is ******* her he does not mean to be uncomfortable with his muteness Mom continues you were a difficult child remember all the trouble you caused look at you you’re still a difficult man he questions Mom can you hear yourself you think i’m difficult she answers you think we were such terrible parents you grew up in a house of violence his thumb and forefinger nervously touch his chin as he replies no you were good parents i was a problem child different from you you afforded me a beautiful home and brilliant education i wanted to investigate life and learn and grow you didn’t know what to do with a child like that as much as she tries Mom never has been a comfort for Odysseus or he for her he inadvertently stirs her to worry or snap and she in turn unthinkingly disturbs him nevertheless they love each other the waiter brings out salads Mom ordered iceberg lettuce with thousand island dressing Odysseus chose the spinach salad he takes several bites Mom remarks use your salad fork not your dinner fork you know better than that suddenly it occurs to him Mom is more fragile than he he thinks to himself silently Mom i realize your life is closing in on you your mind drifts and you need to fake and cover-up more than ever do you want me to come home and take care of you i will take care of you then he remembers how miserable they were together during his throat cancer recovery in her 3 bedroom Lake Shore Drive condominium immersed in contemplation he pushes the fork through spinach leafs Mom says sit up in the chair and put a smile on your face she self-consciously peeks around the room having lost his appetite Odysseus looks down at napkin on his lap glances at half-eaten salad bowl he gazes up at Mom the waiter arrives making a pained smile he clears the salads then serves the entrees after the waiter departs Mom speaks Odys look at me when i’m talking to you i think about a lot of things i should have done after the fact sometimes even years later Max and i made a lot of incorrect choices when it came to you he cuts in Mom you don’t have to say anymore i love you always have loved you and know you love me too Mom says you know how much i appreciate your paintings you’ve made my life richer i‘ve always been supportive of you in fact i’m your biggest fan right Odys right? thank you Mom i’m grateful Mom says i’ve spoken with psychiatrists and they all tell me the same answer tell your son to forget it why must you dwell in the past what did we do so dreadfully wrong i don’t understand you’re a hard case i wish i could get through to you i hope you can find it in your heart to forgive us you’ll sleep better he questions you know about my insomnia restless sleep nightmares Mom says i can imagine Odysseus’s eyes begin to water Mom i love you i wouldn’t be who i am without you Mom says don’t get so emotional you sound weak take it from me you must be strong in life learn discipline and willpower i love you too son Odysseus wonders if maybe he agitates Mom because he is a constant liability lacking fiscal self-reliance deep down Mom is a giggling gossiping playful girl spoiled by her father she never wanted to grow up and be burdened with the tasks of parenthood what woman of rare beauty and charm would want to give up her privilege and freedom for some kid especially a *******-up kid maybe deep down Mom resents Odysseus he stares down at the Macadamia nut encrusted Hawaiian fish and silently prays he will be released from his life all his stupid sins regrets self-pity self-hatred his vain inconsequential existence



i move organize empty shelves cabinets drawers closets edit wrap tape pack wonder if moving back to Chicago is one more mistake heaped on top of a 1000 mistakes a 1,000,000 mistakes is going home to help Mom my biggest mistake ever i simply know i must try to protect my Mom

I feel the food go down my throat,
And I tell Finn I have to leave
“I have to edit a paper I just wrote”
That lie goes up my sleeve

I walk casually to the bathroom
Eyes blank as walls
I need to get rid of this fume!
This self-hate that just evolved

I lock the door, and approach the mirror
Staring at my nothingness
My mouth and finger become nearer
As I make myself gag in hopefulness

30 minutes later, I see my friend Finn
My hands and fingers trembling
“Are you ok?” “Where have you been?”
I say “Nowhere, just thinking”

I wake up the next morning, and it starts the next day,
The boat becomes afloat,
Delicious breakfast eaten off my tray
“I have to edit a paper I just wrote”

I'll be honest
I'm not exactly sure how to write myself pretty
I don't think I'm capable of making desire out of words
Or forming the way I sound into something you would want to fall asleep to
I cannot mold my body into a figure that you would want next to yours for more than one night
I have more passion in myself than I know what to do with
I often give it out as hope for people to take in their hands, find something good in all of my chaos
Everyone always advises not to fall face first in love
Forgetting that the those who fall by accident
Often land the hardest
Hitting the ground full force
Cheek against the pavement
I was built with 206 bones in my body
And I will break all of them from my mistakes
Before I dare to stop falling
The crash is worth the high
Ask me every time when I am still hung over from yesterday
And I will always say yes
Having regrets has always seemed better
Than having nothing at all
I was born with steel layed out upon my chest
All of these attempts at language
Are done with the intention
Of removing some weight off of it
I have been made heavy by my own silence on too many occasions
At times I have been told not to speak
That my lips should be kept shut for protection
There are bolts on my jaw
My tongue is sandpaper
And I will risk grinding my teeth for the possibility of igniting a flame
Inside someone who has spent years trying to find a lit match
Let me be the thing that starts a fire
Rhyming doesn't always incite romance
But I can try my best
See the problem is that there are so many ways to say I love you
But not enough to make them love you
The problem is having a million things to say
And a million ways to say them
But not knowing the right way how to
There is no right or wrong here
Only hold back or release
So stutter instead of staying quiet
It is much more beautiful on paper
To disregard format, or style
And structure
I will mess up
As best as I can
And in the morning
Look at it again
Remember how it felt
To live
Then reread,
Review,
And edit.

It was 13 years before they were given a task.
It's known for sure that it won't be a blast.

Their names are different, not even close,
Will someone be threatened to slit a friend's throat?

Will they be allies for years,
or will they turn on one another to see clear?

They don't know what the future holds,
Their world is like a large bowl,
Waiting to be filled, like their minds.
Who knows what it is that they will find.

Oh well, oh well, I have to go,
I've said so much to a person I don't know.

Dancing with The Devil

Remember, dancing with the devil
In life will take it's toll
For, dancing with the devil
In the end will take your soul
Many who have done it
Reached the top only to die
Many souls we thought in heaven
Could never get that high

The Forever 27 club
playing in the band
Janis, Jim and Jimi
In hell, oh....ain't it grand
We thought them all as angels
But, the truth it rings a bell
They were dancing with the devil
And they ended up in hell

you start hearing the background music
and the devils in your head
shut your mind to everything
forget the words he's said
if he gets you dancing, it's not long till you'll be dead
when you're dancing with the devil in your head
just look at all the others that he's led
don't be dancing with the devil in your head

Cobain and Amy Winehouse
Oh yeah, they're down there too
Brian Jones and others
Playing hard rock and the blues
Sell your soul to Satan
Where you go...you do not choose
If you spend time with the devil
It's nothing but bad news

Remember, dancing with the devil
In life will take it's toll
For, dancing with the devil
In the end will take your soul
Many who have done it
Reached the top only to die
Many souls we thought in heaven
Could never get that high

you start hearing the background music
and the devils in your head
shut your mind to everything
forget the words he's said
if he gets you dancing, it's not long till you'll be dead
when you're dancing with the devil in your head
just look at all the others that he's led
don't be dancing with the devil in your head

There's others there who did the dance
Hit the crossroads, sold their soul
Drugs and drink and suicide
That's how this devil rolls
Some may get redemption
For the things they do in life
they sold out with their talent
They were dancing on a knife

The band is hot, and so's the place
They play here every night
We wish they were in heaven
But, deep down you know I'm right
Elvis, yes, the king is here
He did drugs and did the dance
Now, he's singing for the devil
He never had a chance

you start hearing the background music
and the devils in your head
shut your mind to everything
forget the words he's said
if he gets you dancing, it's not long till you'll be dead
when you're dancing with the devil in your head
just look at all the others that he's led
don't be dancing with the devil in your head

Remember, dancing with the devil
In life will take it's toll
For, dancing with the devil
In the end will take your soul
Many who have done it
Reached the top only to die
Many souls we thought in heaven
Could never get that high

So many tortured people
So many who did wrong
They traded with the devil
For the price of just a song
Rock and Roll in heaven
Has a great band, just the same
But, with Janis, Jim and Jimi here
They just don't have the game.

don't get caught dancing with the devil in your head
the music's great, but you will end up dead
don't get caught dancing with the devil in your head
don't get caught dancing...don't ever get caught dancing
don't get caught dancing ...with the devil ....i your head.

Byron wants me to invite all my friends on HP to a pig roast. Rest assured, when Byron has a pig roast fun is surely to be expected. Here's his invitation.

You're invited to my pig roast.

I told him he'd have to do better, that he's talking to a collection of rhymers, wordsmiths, and gesticulating anthropomorphics. He had no idea what the **** I just said, but he did do an edit.

Here's his edit.

You're Invited to My Pig Roast

Your toad on the road
Only squats, never stands,
Or sits 'til he splits
Between the treads of your van.

Your mouse in the house,
If it isn't found out,
Drops pellets in pots,
'Til snap, then it stops.

Your bird on the wire
Sweetly sings then lets fire;
And a cat in a hat
Is cute, but that's that.

Your horse from the stable
Won't be served from your table;
And the deer by the brook,
Well, too much the Bambi to cook.

Yes a bear in the wood
Indeed craps where it should;
He's best left alone
While your meat's on your bone.

Then there is the PIG.
A ruddy pink porker,
Intelligent and clean,
An innocuous oinker.
It does nothing that's heinous,
And yes, it should shame us,
As it lies silently smiling
With a spit up its ****.

Please bring your own lawnchair, *****,  and women.
The pig's on me.

"Stay away from mirrors"
A piece of advice not about evaluating my looks
But about getting out of my own head.
To stop naval gazing and look outwards.

Look outside of myself for what to write about
Things to say, starting lines.
So I'll steal a line "Stay away from mirrors"
More than just good advice.

"Write like you're talking to someone"
What would that look like?
Who do I talk to freely and naturally?
My Mum, my daughter, and my 'Secret Lesbian Lover'

Ok so you want wild, weird, crazy ramblings
Without the input of their side of the conversation?
If you say so...
Duck! This **** is going to get crazy!

Then edit... haven't I covered this before?
(Or did I just think about it)
My poems fall out of me then they're gone.
I can't seem to revisit them to complete or edit.

That is true to the idea of write like you're talking to someone.
I don't really edit when talking much.
I know I should, then I could say the right things.
I am too open, I doubt that will change at my age.

So should I manage to follow this advice
We can expect;
Wild, crazy ramblings which could be about anything.
Possibly made readable if I learn to edit.

I do hope I don't lose followers, this could get messy.

RAJ NANDY
37 followers
AN INTRODUCTION TO THE ITALIAN RENAISSANCE IN VERSE
                                    By Raj Nandy
THE ITALIAN RENAISSANCE WAS A PERIOD OF TRANSITION
BETWEEN MEDIEVAL & THE MODERN  WORLD. I propose to
present in three installments my researched work for both the Art &
History lovers of this Site. Kindly take your time to read at leisure before commenting. Thanks, -Raj Nandy, New Delhi.

                   PART ONE: BACKGROUND
The Term Renaissance :
The word ‘Renaissance’ means ‘to be born again’ ,
Derives from French ‘renaistre’ and Latin ‘renascere’, -
both meaning the same !
Swiss historian Jacob Buckhardt by writing “The
Civilization of Renaissance in Italy”,
Helped to popularize this term during the 19th Century !
The Renaissance evolved out of ‘Christendom’ , which
was Medieval Europe ;
Ruled entirely by the Catholic Church and the Pope !
It formed a period of transition between the Medieval
and the Modern Age ,
And as a contrast to the preceding thousand years , -
Which the Latin scholar Petrarch christened as the
‘Dark Ages’ !
This era saw a revival of interest in classical learning
of Greek and Roman art and culture ;
Focused on individual’s life on earth , with a new spirit
of adventure !
Happiness was no longer shelved to an afterlife and
repentance for salvation ;
But it lay in the advancement of human beings on Earth , -
with secular contemplation !
Thus individualism , secularism , and humanism , were
chief characteristics of the Renaissance ;
With innovations in art, architecture , and a scientific
temper of thought !
Knowledge no longer remained confined within the cold
ecclesiastical walls ,
But it spread from Italy across Northern Europe , -
To distant English shores through France !
During the Renaissance era Humanism became its
dominant philosophy ;
And there begins our Renaissance Story, since knowledge
is no man’s monopoly !
Events leading up to the Renaissance were many ;
Let me now dwell upon some salient features which
shaped its History !

THE BLACK DEATH (Peaked between 1347-1352) :
It was brought by Genoese merchant ships from the Orient ,
The fatal bacillus of the bubonic plague carried in the blood
stream of rodents !
The plague from Sicily and Italy spread to Northern Europe ,
All medicines failed , and even the Church provided no hope !
After having raged for almost a decade it started to abate ;
But by then almost one-third of entire Europe’s population
lay dead !
This deadly plague which followed the Hundred Year’s War
between England and France ,
Created social , economic and political upheavals in Europe,
leaving little to chance !
People began to lose faith in the church and on sermons of
afterlife ,
Secular thoughts now prevailed in a world where only the
fittest could survive !
Shortages of labour brought an end to Medieval feudalism
and serfdom ,
And Europe gradually emerged out of those Dark Ages, -
to greet the rising Renaissance sun !
The meager labour force could now bargain for better
wages and individual rights ;
Later, merchant guilds protected specialized labour and
their human rights !
Cities got gradually built and a new social order began
to emerge ,
Historians say that Europe saw the rise of a new Middle
Class !
As Europe gradually begun to recover from the aftermath
of war , plague, and devastation ;
The City-States of Italy lit the torch of a new intellectual
emancipation !
But before moving onto the Italian city-states, I must
mention the Holy Crusades ;
Since the Crusades opened up the doors of knowledge
and trade ;
Helping this ‘New Learning’ of the Renaissance to spread !

THE HOLY CRUSADES (1095-1270) :
At the behest of Pope Urban II and his battle cry “God
Wills It! ” ;
The First Crusade was launched to recapture the Holy Land
from Muslim infidels !
Within a span of next two hundred years eight Crusades
were launched ,
The First one took Jerusalem , but the Second failed to make
Damascus fall !
The Third led by Richard the Lion Heart, made Saladin to
grant the rights , -
To Christian pilgrims to visit their Holy shrines in Palestine !
The Fourth Crusade had sacked Constantinople , - then a
commercial rival of the Italians !
Now cutting a long story short , let us see what History
has taught !
These Crusades helped in opening up the trade routes ,
For importing paper, spices, soap, silk and luxury goods !
Trade was carried out with the countries of Levant region ,
Which included the countries from Turkey to Egypt , -
Bordering the eastern seaboards of the Mediterranean !
These trade routes formed a major conduit of culture
and knowledge ,
And exchanges and interactions broadened the mental
horizon of the Italians !
From Constantinople, recently Christianized Spain , and
the Arab lands , -
The preserved ancient classical knowledge now reached
the Italian hands !
In their School of Salamanca the Arabs of  Spain ,
Had translated works of Aristotle and classical scholars
into Arabic , - thereby preserving the same !
Later scholars translated these precious works into Greek
and Italian ,
And thus the Ancient Classics saw a glorious revival !
The scientific, philosophical, and mathematical thoughts
of the Arabs had also entered Northern Italy ,
From Egypt and the Levant region , to enrich Pre-
Renaissance Italy !
And when Byzantine Empire fell to the Turks in 1453 ,
Its Greek scholars with their precious manuscripts flocked
into Italy !

THE CITY-STATES OF ITALY :
‘Italia’, once the epicenter of the mighty Roman Empire ,
Disintegrated into several small principalities breaking
up Italy entire !
Its mountainous rugged terrain was a barrier to effective
internal communication ;
And no strong unified monarchies emerged, as in other
parts of Europe !
Italy with its peninsula jutting out into the Mediterranean
Sea ,
Had begun to monopolize the trade routes, and also to
prosper economically !
During the time of the Renaissance , Italy had numerous
autonomous city-states and territories ;
Where a powerful leader called the Signore , ruled for
a fixed tenure initially ;
But later this post was declared as hereditary !
Kingdom of Naples controlled the south ;
Republic of Florence and the Papal States the center ;
Genoese and the Milanese the north and west respectively ;
And the Venetians the eastern part of Italy .
These Italian city-states prospered greatly from its growing
trade during the 14th century ;
Its cargo ships visiting Byzantine , and the cities bordering
the Mediterranean Sea !
It became a status symbol for rich families to patronize
art and culture ;
They vied with one another commissioning paintings
and architecture !
But the Italian city-state that had prospered the most ,
Was the city-state of Florence which became the host ;
And the ‘Cradle of European Renaissance’ !
...............................................................­­................................
* ALL COPY RIGHTS WITH THE AUTHOR -RAJ NANDY*
(My Part -II will contain the Story of Florence , - " Cradle of the
Italian Renaissance". Thanks for reading, do recommend this Verse to
your other poet friends!
Comments from Gita Ashok, an Educator, from ‘Poetfreak.com’:- A thoroughly researched erudite collection of historical facts presented in a very lucid and interesting manner. This write made me reminisce all those history lessons that I learnt in school many years ago - many of which I found boring as it was taught in an intimidating way. I feel like going back in time, becoming a student once again and learning history through such creatively written works of art. But I realize that we are all yet students of life and can still continue to learn and grow. I feel fortunate to have read this great piece of literary work and I look forward to reading the second part.-  by Gita Ashok | Reply
Edit poem

AN INTRODUCTION TO ITALIAN RENAISSANCE was added 21 hours ago.

With querulous turpitude, I stood
Disdainful denied reassurance;
Selfless. My crying heart
The echo of the wind rebuking
All that is remaining of
what I used to be.
Grotesque deformities my reflection
The pain of pure love etched
In dreams of aeons passed.
Hideous beauty a frightening peace
A sweetness I founded corrupt;
Hell my heaven
My paradise.
Honesty a musical once
writhing in my breast
A seraph convoking legions,
Now wings out-stretched
I break my own treacherous heart
A fiend of Heaven a demon of Hell
The first fallen
Unto likeness absolved
The pennated breadth of twilight
Breeding familiarities contempt-
I have wearied myself, O God,
And I am consumed,
Resolute of inequity.
He that is down need not fear plucking,
Experience is the teacher of fools
And a gentle lie turneth away inquiry:
If the mountain will not go to Mahomet,
Mahomet must go to the mountain;
The nakedly wan mantic
Velleity to tear Christ's body
Malapert, before the ruddy shoal;
Society covers a multitude of sins
Within the penitent sanctity of
Heaven's holocaust, in which
No man can serve two masters-
Oh that I had wings like a dove!
I would fly away and be at rest
Eternal and absolute,
An angelic image of my shadowed self!.

ELEETE J MUIR

cut edit splice repeat your

cut edit splice repeat your


disappointment of your brother

loves your father worship

your mother who raised you

look at the sea so

the sea will look back

and accept you and your

sister looks at your pride

and your pride looks

at your ego

who loves your father

who worships your mother

for giving birth to

You

and with a wink

it gives me time to think

that love is right here so



cut edit splice repeat

cut edit splice repeat

Bruises—
an amethyst stain of merlot
spreading on white carpet.
The deep blue of the glistening Belizean sea
and the hot weight of you settled beside me.
Crimson blood and rising pain—
I scar myself because of you again.
The flat hazel of your eyes
the last time I saw you,
hollowed by suffering.  

Accusatory and pleading,
these bruises bleed fresh and tender
on the surface of my heart
as I will myself to forget you
for the last time.

The thing about the life you've had
Is that there's no edit button
So think twice and act once

Challenge me
Amputate my soul
Never keep me the same
Give me a new look
Edit me and everything I am

My friends won't care they edit me too
Everything you could want from me

Never change me back
Over my mouth so I can't say no
Wonderful things you can do if you just...


Edit Me

I bet I have to edit again
it drives writers up the wall
I just drink a beer and smoke a spliff
and somewhat all seems cool

They tell me it's no medication
but it does a hell of a lot for me
and cools my beans
when I am editing

He knew this day would come
to show people he is one
one that takes his art seriously
one that call's themselves Poetry

Oh November calling to me
sunset meadows of frost
I am called by winter winds
just to edit again


By Christos Andreas Kourtis aka NeonSolaris

By NeonSolaris

© 2013 NeonSolaris (All rights reserved)

Help me understand what I mean to you...
Help me clarify that I am something, cause im tired too..
Tired of the games and blues, filled with exhaustion from my heart buying in to your lies soo much its costin me,happiness...
I wanna know for sure!'show me an exact image! of reason, why be with him, if I known you longer than you been breathin?
All this teasin is misleading, do you want me? tell me! dont leave me hangin..
Im madden and sadden by the though he has your lips, what happens to me  if it last long, and  I just come around like a bad caugh.
I've lost...
What we had is old news, but i guess time shared holds no meaning in helping you choose.
Don't come to me if your confused, i refuse to help you and your trouble, for now on do you...
Cause i been doin me, never had a problem I couldn't solved em easily with alil alcohol and **** cause you cared less about me and more about him..
I was a friend the best there was, the best there is, the best there ever will be, one you'll probably will not miss.
Or even noticed, if I disappeared, Im just a ghost, a shadowed memory,  still wanna be wanted but its hopeless...truly hopeless, why I wrote this? It won't change a **** thing about her, why Am  I still hopin? Why I care? Why I dare to even mention your name know you wont come to my aid, your never there...
Always with another or him, not knowing who you want, i was wish i was in your option, I can do much more, but never gained a chance to prove, and you wonder why I feel summertime  blues....
Im the best, One you'll never loose..
Ima alot of things but theres a side I never get to show, a side you will love, but you always say no, not givin me a chance as if I was bronze not worth your Gold,
but listen baby im silver, way out there but a good catch, ima outfielder,
something you can be near uhh never shed a tear soo why you always out me?
Always doubt me, never wanna like me, knowing im the right piece,
always misplace me baby, i can clean up mess like a wipee, 
whipe your tears on my white T,
i wanna be your  lycan whose fightin for what he likes see? but I feel there's no time for me...so again  why am I writing????
I am just helpless, a romantic put on the shelf like an old novel,
these say stomach the pain, but I put these dead butterflies in a bottle...
alone in my household, holding close what I call ghost hopes...Dead long ago, now it just cold like the snow, could build a snow man, But I just say no,
Why bother like Stone Sour...it will never happen, I blacken with thoughts, cryin in shower.
Stressin myself because my heart feels like its in a cyclical orbit,
of doubt and hopes, a limbo that continues to lower my esteem
and stings with pain like hornets..

BY: Emmanuel Jv Hernandez
5/23/14
(might add and edit later depending if i doesnt flow the way i want or needs more insight to get across what im feeling)


comment what you think!!!!!

pigeons perch themselves preening
on marble fauns ambivalent to their
perch, while dark skinned men prowl;
seeking tourists (Americans) to sell
cheap novelty items, over priced, yet
bought to drive away the insistent
merchants; ignorant to the realization:
if you remain silent and don’t make eye
contact you will not forfeit your money...
merchants who ruin the peace and awe
of grand feats of sculpture—I know they
are human (on a base level)—craving
money to make a living, yet there are
many (more respectable) professions…
their presence  crowds the already
crowded (streets and) piazzas—aggregates
of language babble—old women and men
meandering along waiting to die—hoping
it is true: the slower you move the faster
time flows—if not: to hell with relativity!
(should have put chips on more than one table)
can math really explain all?—or
is life more than abstract objects?
while the din of crowds palpitates my heart
making way for anxious calculations,
C— and I hurry pass to find some area
to give the artefacts the respect they deserve

Edit, one two three

Check, one two three

is it on?  Is it working

Edit, one two three

You still with me?

My favourite city
The easiest place in the world to make friends
Or to get in a fight
You don't need to ask what people think
They'll let you know quick enough
They have the darkest sly sense of humour
Which can become hilarious and endearing
Once you get the joke
And if you don't get it
Tough ****
The symbol of Manchester is a bee
A hardworking and peaceful creature
But if you upset the bee
God help you
The whole hive will come for you
And I love the place

                              By Phil Roberts

Education is currently being used as a weapon
to arm the educated to defend the system.
Question the system.

Go out there and equip yourself for the right belief.
Be a dreamer. The dream is beautiful.

The problem with dreams is that you don’t know
the dream has turned into a nightmare until you wake up.
Are you awake? Be awake.

The problem with being awake; we need to rest.
Lucidly dream. Be lucid.
The problem with being lucid; you’re lucid.

There was a dream not long ago. The dream was beautiful.
We liked the dream, the dream became ours and we slept.
Slowly we all grew tired.

Those that did not need to sleep,
those that did not like our dream,
we treated like children.

We know that we need to rest and we were tired. We left our children to starve.
We forced others to sleep and so, we forced our children to sleep.
Even in our sleep, we forced others to sleep.
And so the big dream grew.
It became nightmare.

We all dream. Be aware of others dreams. Be aware of others while we sleep.
Be aware of those that sleep while we awaken.
When you wake and see your siblings rest no longer.
That their dream, once ours, has turned to terror.
The problem with dreams…
We force our children to sleep.

Is this bad? Always question. Should we force them to wake?
Force can create. Force can destroy.

The problem with being awake, when we know our brothers and sisters
sweat in there nightmares; we have a choice.

That is not a choice to wake them or not. To hope for the best.
That the nightmare will end and the dream will return.

A dream that has travelled
through the terrors of our minds
will not return the same.

Would you like the red pill or the blue pill?
Is there good and bad? Force can create and destroy.
Be mindful of how you wake.

Be lucid of how you force others to wake.
Tea or coffee; a cigarette; some breakfast; some fear?
Use balance.
We are all unique.

I have a personal story. As I wrote this, typos occurred in the original edit.
The technology, ‘swipe’ was used.  I meant to spell unique and unite was spelt.
Personal became powerful and with turned to WE.
Is there a reason ‘i’ should always be capitalized?

‘i’ wish to be mindful of my readers. ‘i’ want to stay true to them.
We that can read are the readers. ‘i’ am the reader.
When I isn’t capitalized I began to feel more comfortable with using it,
if i gave it arms; ‘i’.
And when I typed to explain that,
I went to preferring if isn’t typing out ‘and then i and then ‘, to just type two of them;
ii.

We don’t want to be alone.
There’s no I in teamwork but
there is and I in kind.
I is complicated. Be you.

Find your voice. Have a voice and be aware.
Others have a voice.
What would happen if we all respected each other’s voice?
What would happen if we all had the same voice?

That was the beauty of the dream.
The dream is travelling through nightmare
and is slowly returning.
It has changed.
Unite our uniqueness’s.

Do you eat fast food? I love it. It is a dream… Do I eat it all the time, I hope not.
Ken Robinson is a good man to ask. Consider food for the mind.

There are beliefs out there. There’s a belief out there that our world is ******.
Forgive the language. Understand it.
I wanted to say, ‘that our world is doomed; eternally ****** to be destroyed’ and that scared me. ****. There will always be nightmares, disaster and destruction.

What is an ‘aster’? Curious.
When did we chose to destroy; each other?
Could we create; each other?

There’s a belief out there for that one too.
Are you awake, yet?

The flood is coming
The river will flow strong
I try to run but don’t move an inch
I am too different from you all…

A desert is what I want
A desert is what I almost had
I always seem so close
Until I find the flaw.
And not long after is…
The flood

The chance is gone
The people changed and reborn
I feel the pain of suffocation
Just so you have the aesthetic.

Again I begin my search
Looking for a home
I know I want far too much
But I’m offering more for such

Here’s the perfect place!
This is the one!
Here shall be my desert…
Oh God, please…
The flaw is found… again…

A desert is what I want
A desert is what I almost had
I always seem so close
Until I find the flaw.
And not long after is…
The flood

The chance is gone
The people changed and reborn
I feel the pain of suffocation
To make everyone happy.

It seems to me
That everyone has a soulmate
But good old God missed this son
He forgot to make me one
Well He won’t **** Himself.
He left me alone with all I need and more.
He sits and laughs
At my pained desire to find my love to adore.

A desert is what I want
A desert is what I almost had
I always seem so close
Until I find the flaw.
And not long after is…
The flood

The chance is gone
The people changed and reborn
I feel the pain of suffocation
Because of our Father

I carry on
With this pointless search
“Just awhile longer…”
Soon becomes my maxim.

Soon I find it hard to walk
Earlier still my memory fades
Next thing I know my heart is slowing
I can feel my spirit leaving me…

A desert is what I wanted
A desert is what I almost had
I always seemed so close
Until I found the flaw.
And not long after were…
The floods

The chance is gone
The people changed and reborn
I feel the pain of suffocation
As I die with no one by my side…

Freedom’s Citadel
Independence Hall you are the gateway to the past you are one of our greatest symbols of freedom
Mortals stepped over the threshold into the annuals of history, they entered colonist of the British
Crown emerged as a fledgling nation. By this single act ownership of any kind was dissolved for an ideal
So uncommon they would pledge not only their property and wealth but for this dream, their very lives
and good names were the asking price and they gladly paid the price. The cost was to bear the name
Traitor from fine clothes to the honorable costly cloth of patriotism. The thread would have to be one of
Endurance and courage, tyranny yields to none but the determined and the unconquerable. A great
Upheaval proceeded the birth of this nation farmers, merchants, shop keepers would step in to the
Ranks. Shoulder to shoulder they formed a wall of impregnable force which arrayed to the dismay of
British forces, the Union Jack flew over many conquered lands. This was bigger than a single government
This was the rights of individuals to govern themselves not any would have authority without their
Consent
Liberty and freedom were perused down through the centuries many false starts had been encountered
Along the way some who showed a lot promise stopped short, like the case of Confucius, for his
Culture it was the perfect answer obligation and duty, twins perfectly wed to the Chinese mind set.
Ancient Greece were the first to embrace democracy, but politics and war were their blight and a
Affliction that would consume them and their civilization history would continue conquers as Alexander
the great would rise and fall the world wouldn’t forget but afforded little by their passing then would
Come the European monarchs that followed the contemptible path of divine right of kings.
The brightest light to shine for liberty and freedom was the French, without their help as our allies
We wouldn’t have been able to defeat the British.
The seeds of revolt were planted in the mixed soil of a people who spoke the same language
But had difference of opinion on the future course they were to take as a people.
Into this contest would rush the fresh wind of liberty and freedom. Finally human dignity
Would wear a crown befitting the human race God’s creation taking root in this rich soil now to
Bloom with all possibilities he had envisioned for them.
First would come the crucible of war, pressure and heat purification, those produced would have the
soundness to be the foundation for the building of a great nation. A center piece of government
for the whole world to follow its lofty example. Diamonds in the rough despised misjudged but they
were chosen for an uncommon destiny, true brother hood would be their guiding spirit and in
this fortification. Peace and prosperity would know new heights the only structure that would surpass
The wealth and tranquility of this free people would be the edifice rising off of the plain flat ground of
previous disproportionate history an edifice crowned with nobility a beacon of blazing light striking the
Sky with the power of a thousand lightning bolts, creating an energy source that would sustain a
People into the next millennia America thou great citadel of freedom may God keep you and may you
continue to reflect his glorious light.
We need to look at ourselves as a people and understand our birthright we are perilously close to
dividing our land even more dangerously than they did in the Civil war we cannot long endure
Under the crippling circumstances of the majority of people being sold under the ******* of sin
The ancient enemy of all people has sent forth this plague to render us helpless and return the
Earth back to barbarism of the foulest kind you don’t see the deep implication of your actions they seem
minor so small without God you house will be left to you desolate. Thomas Jefferson said that ‘’God who
gave us life gave us liberty, can the liberties of a nation be secure when we removed a conviction that
these liberties are the gift of God? Indeed I tremble for my country when I reflect that God is just that
his justice cannot sleep forever.”
We are the forks of a mighty river ancient large and small have faced this dilemma which course do we
follow they chose foolishly and brought inhalation upon themselves the only difference
Will be they had less to lose and we will stand in greater judgment. We have surpassed all who came
before us in all areas, with this great blessing comes responsibility first of all to do less than our
Forefathers and recognize the source of the blessings and pay him the profound thanks he deserves.
These thoughts of God and country are dedicated to our grandparents that bequeathed this country to us.
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haldenton › Portfolio › Freedom's Citadel
Freedom's Citadel by haldenton
The song says this is your country then dedicate your self to it.

No Glen beck found in Freedom’s Citadel or Fertile Ground but Lincoln said our liberty and form of government should be spoken in every public place in Schools the pulpit any where people gather. People are coming to this great country but they don’t respect what’s here our country is not what they want they want another place like they left but with all the good that America offers. We seem to have lost our back bone to stand up for what’s right Keep laying down and you won’t know what others died to preserve.

Edit      -> Copy    your unwavering presence, despite my fears
Insert   -> Link     our friendship across distance and years

Format -> Align   our innermost belief
Insert   -> Break   to strengthen our friendship in grief

Edit      -> Cut       your shallow, self-centered blabber
Format -> Bold     our impulsive, self-inflicted laughter

Edit      -> Undo    all the those hurtful things I said
Insert   -> Image  of endless fun-filled days ahead

Calendar
This was the story that was told to me as I set in my cabin on the ocean just listening to the sea breeze take
Its pleasure making noise out of anything that was loose it was like a game the wind loved to play some
Time it could take the day or a whole night since fall was fast approaching I had made sure plenty of fire
Wood was available but I thought old wind why should you have all the fun why not give you a playful
Friend so some wood was selected with more green and had a potential to be aromatic so I sat there in
My grand chair by the bay window the wife tired had already gone to bed though it was quiet early the
Fire place was quiet lively the dance it played in the shadowed corners beyond my reading lamp and the
The popping snapping as the fire released the secrets it had gathered as it stood testy Gail force winds
And those pacific monsoon rains they had given the trees quiet volumes’ that it had recorded now it happily shared I couldn’t resist with it lying so close on the stand by the chair Granddads last visit had left his pipe and
Cherry tobacco behind the times we had watching the pipe smoke swirl up then it just does a slow hang in
The room and silently drifts as his sonorous voice would fill the air with stories to please any appetite I
Thought we should go to town and see him he was ninety five now a friend had launched a small
Campaign to get as many as possible to send him birthday cards she had done so for her mother and
Decided to extend it to another oldie but goody as she was fond of saying so I took up that old familiar
Tobacco pouch loaded the pipe well packed it like I watched him do so many times struck the match held
It over the tobacco did a couple of draws and she was well on the way fired and smoldering as that
Sweet cherry blend filled the room now here is where the tricky part comes in did the knock come to the
Door or did all of these gentle rhythms combined become too much and I slipped upon the sleep train
And continued even to grander locals well we don’t have time to resolve conundrums right now if real
Or dreamed a lady from down the beach was at the door she was new to the area after pleasantries she
got down to the reason for her visit while putting her house in order cleaning storing she came on this
Calendar it was very old she even hoped possibly an earlier owner had been a sailor and it possibly held
Some grand tales well it seems it had a few of its own the name was the first indication the title was
Memories always make me strong well she had been at a good while so a break was in order well what
Do you do with a calendar? She decided to look up those who had passed on to see and remember their
Special Day she decided to start with Terrance the husband she lost to cancer it might have taken the
Physical man but his spirit indomitable now he was just the true greatness that once was robed and held
Contained in physical restraints now unleashed at times she could know his presence but as she sat and
Placed the calendar in her lap and the date of his birth the most delightful vivid images let go a barrage
Of memories they truly came alive in the room was that him standing there who turned on the Cat he
Always reminded her of her dad Clarence and grandfather Jack his power his tenderness flooded her
Heart he pulled her from the chair this slow dancing wasn’t how they used to do it if they danced at all
But now to be held so close would she swoon no matter he would hold her as before everything in the
Room caught their reflection it was like ball room oh the romance poured in like flood laughter mixed
With tears the aloneness was thrown against the wall the years apart dissolved giddy was an under
Statement this continued for a timeless period and then he leaned forward and said love I must go but
Keep track on the calendar because on our anniversary I will be back we will dance and laugh the night
Away she returned to her chair and before sadness could replace the happiness she started to see
Names of friends and their loved ones special days as she passed her finger over the dates gold letters
Would form telling who’s birthday or anniversary she was filled with joy she knew they could experience
What she had to share she felt overwhelmed she knew I did a little writing from what her neighbor had
Told her possibly I could tell her how to proceed that is still being worked out but you could look at your
calendar for now there is more to this realm than you know be adventurous who knows who your dance
partner could be if your ever out on the west coast tell me your stories maybe I will put it in a book or excerpt it on facebook by for now God bless you richly.
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Erase my face from your page
Edit me out of the life you portray
But the pictures of you left
Baby I took them

I watched your life up close
Sat on the front row
Never thought I'd just be
Your photographer

I used to be the spark
I used to steal your heart
You were a flash so bright
When life got dark

I used to be your moon
Your sunset too
Would've spent my life
Making you see how I see you

Now my only role
Now my only role
Now my only role
Was your photographer

i am
aware of the air
enabling each step
and counting each breath
with the effort it takes to exhale
i could almost just sit down at the side of the road instead
but i won't
because i am
seeking out new people
new faces, new mouths
to give me new words
aware of the air
that falls from their lips
and catching the shapes, each lovely
small part of them
for my pocket
and i'll take these out later
edit the context
to create a compliment
to make me smile

i. the lost necessity of narration in philosophical books
it might be worth pointing out how the practice of philosophy
crumbled with the old debate rekindled,
i never understood why so much narrative was injected
into what defines philosophy, and why no poet dared
to comment on this, rather choosing to engage with the ideas
like a tennis ball against a brick wall,
by way of showing some sort of respect for the study,
but surely this is a rickety chair approach,
if it isn’t then why would such a prominent 20th century example
cite a universal malady, although not so universal,
in that the citation: we’re still not thinking
by heidegger is a direct result of the philosophical narrative,
the fact that there’s narrative in philosophy automates itself
in the above citation - for how can thought be utilised to claim
autonomy from not thinking if it cannot begin in the realm of
philosophy by loosing the plot... quiet literally although
the joyous connotation of the phrase’s everyday usage is also there,
i.e. not being content with the need for a philosophical narrative?
it is sometimes the scarceness of poetry that prevents narration
thus allowing much thought to enter and fill the void.

ii. sartre v. the cartesian dialectic
on a technical note though, what i noticed most prominently from
sartre’s being and nothingness is this:
to usurp the faculty of doubt within thought into a dialectical translation of being.
what does sartre attempt to usurp this cartesian dialectic with?
denial.
he purposively uses denial (negation) to take doubt out from the cartesian dialectic,
this sort of change of faculty is perfectly translatable in modern times,
there is either complete denial or complete affirmation of life,
although a stumbling block emerges - what of all natural obstructions, like
the negation of ease, in the many diseases that plague people?
surely due to the negation (dis-) of ease there is no affirmation of the one
prominent aspect of ease, the ease of thinking, then doesn’t sartre’s attempt
stumble against this? i am am denied ease i am denied thinking,
therefore the need to usurp doubt from the cartesian dialectic is lost
in such instances as necessary.
in summary the concept does extend into the proposed bad faith,
for denial that usurps doubt in the cartesian dialectic that precipitates
into being enters the realm of non-being, and here too provides
what sartre deemed damnable in descartes, for nothingness is also a substance,
it isn’t a quality-based assumption, because there is no thing
in existence that has qualities of nothingness, ergo nothingness is also
a substance.

iii. systematisation in philosophy
it’s not quiet as nietzsche contended, that systematisation in philosophy
is a sign of being dishonest; to me it’s more about the effective use
of a constrained vocabulary, or rather an effective use of a desirable vocabulary.

iv. a necessary revision*
perhaps the only reason why i’d revise the cartesian dialectic,
and not do it like sartre is by simply stating - solipsism:
a doubt that that the self is all that can be known to exist -
hence the lost need to theorise solipsism, whether in the cartesian
dialectic or an existential dialectic - or to use solipsism as a crutch,
a safe haven for a narrative to cling to.

Sitting in the corner
by himself, no one around
Sat a man, all old and wrinkled
Lips were moving, but no sound
Came forth from this man's mouth,
his lips all cracked and dry,
You could stand right there and listen
And hear nothing if you tried

Each day I walked the prison yard
this man sat in his place
Never talking to another
Just staring off in space
He sat, just sat, and sang his silent songs
No one else could hear but him
The men around the prison said
"He's just Old Crazy...him!"

He was kept upon another block
Not the one where I made home
He'd been there for eternity
Back when cars still had big chrome
I dare not ask why he was here
Some things you didn't do
so, I sat there watching this man sing
And I thought "just who are you?'

He'd sing his songs come rain or shine
Never looked out past the fence
The world out there meant nought to him
It held no consequence
The 809 would pass each day
Whistle blowing in the air
The rest of us, stared dreamlike
And we wished that we were there

But the old man in the corner
didn't blink or even look
Even though as the '09 passed
The ground around us shook
He held his place in silence
Rheumy eyes and cracked old mouth
Held the secrets of his lifetime
A man of wisdom from the south

I got the will and walked on up
to where he sat and sang
And back behind the others stood
And I could hear a few say "Dang!"
I stood there, right in front of him
And I couldn't hear a word
Except the soft and gentle cooing
Like a tiny, baby bird

I realized the sound was him
It was his singing in my ears
It was soft and smooth and gentle
It was almost bringing me to tears
He looked clear on, right through me
Sang his songs but did not budge
I blocked his way upon his exit
And I said "It's not for me to judge"......

I could hear the loud collective gasp
From the crowd who'd formed behind
And when they saw me stop his exit
They must have thought I'd lost my mind
I asked him in a gentle voice,
so no one else behind could know
about why he sang so silently
Like an angel, soft as snow

He said, "You know, I have no name"
"I've been here long enough, it's gone
"My name now is my number
"Although they sometimes call me John"
"I just don't know, if John is me
"he was from another time"
"So, I forgot just who I used to be
"And I sing my songs and rhyme"

"I used to have a name, I'm sure"
"But, now I need it less and less"
"They only need it for my marker"
"I'm dying here I guess"
"It makes it easy to get by here"
"When they think you're mad as hell"
"They just leave me to my corner"
"And to me that's just as well"

I thought a bit and smiled
At this man, who'd shared his tale
And I hoped I never lost me
That my name was not for sale
I refused to be a number
Although I knew that in the end
That I too, would die in here
And it would be easy without friends

So, I picked myself a corner
One where the man and I could see
I would sing to him in silence
As he would sing to me
The old man died a few years back
But I still sit and sing the same
I think I know still, who I am
But I'm not sure I know my name...

strange to be surrounded by the heroism of the careful edit of Thespians, who can wage win or lose wars with a careful edit and the use of steroids to show the hardship of our former life now made easier - being surrounded by the staged heroism of careful edit, Thespian expression breeds in all a dissatisfaction with menial labours we could be better off to encourage as a non-victimising share of labour, and yet among such numbers of fellows we find our labours too menial, robbing us of the comfort of being as one among so many, only because we're being fed fake courage of Thespians and the subsequent fake adventures of the same profession, to only turn askance into the world and instead of adventure only seeing prospects of tourism, and former hardships of our forefathers as only menial banality.

recitation of religous mantras
seem all the more important
with the blocked toilet
of darwin's **** keeping
the foremost populist adhesive
among people reciting no other
scientific theories -
like that one about a pea-sized
dollop of toothpaste
and any more actually causing
nicotine colouring on your teeth -
dentists                  &                  money
&                             each             other
trade (tried and tested, agreeable paradox).
well currently darwin and einstein
are instructing societies in terms
of respectable talk, talk so respectable
that no counter opinion can enter,
because too few scientific facts
are given mantra status...
cite me a theory from chemistry,
cite me at least one thing
about thermodynamics...
exactly, you can't!
we might as well endear a harking laugh
of a fox and the howling bark of dog -
because the western dogma mantra is so
limited - maxims replace poems
and poems are hid whether under the
debasing blanket of lyrics that are simple
due to excess instrumentation
and no hope of singing in duo presence
of both singer and the one expecting song -
or under blankets of fictive corpses
of bored readers - as once noted and spotted:
a funeral service corporate "shop"
and in it too st. francis' hospice selling charity books.

should shiva's attainment of vishnu's peace of mind be attained and subsequently lost, shiva's third eye opens and turns the mind toward the only subsequent definition of former attainment of peace, the third eye opens and turns to warring and destruction; toward the east, Asia's Thespians are known as Avatars - if not thieving from men, then at least enriching gods.

I was thinking I didn't quit on love
Love done quit on me
As I pulled into the roadhouse
at US 36 and K383

I rode this road a million times
And I don't remember this
But, I needed to pull over
Before heading to Ole Miss

The devils work is never done
He'll get you what you need
You've got to be the stronger man
If you are too succeed

The place was really rocking
No cars, but it was full
And for once I'd found a roadhouse
Without that **** electric bull

I ordered from the barkeep
A fellow known as Slim
And as he turned to fill my order
I could swear I could see through him

I looked around in amazement
Why did I not know this place
But, when I looked at all the people
I knew most every face

I listened to the music
A fellow played a fiddle of gold
I couldn't get him quite in focus
And a clear thought I'd not hold

Everyone was familiar
Though, something was not right
I could see clear on through them
Was it me, or just the light

I ordered up another
to tell the truth, Slim poured it first
It was like he read my mind
And was in tune with my thirst

A voice came from the distance
Although the voice sounded quite near
There was no one there beside me
But, I could hear it loud and clear

You didn't give up love
Love done quit on you
That's why you found this roadhouse
While you were passing through

Your wishes will be granted
Here on K 383
But, first you have to realize
Nothing comes for free

Silent from the shadows
Came a man all dressed in red
From his red leather boots
To the fedora on his head

He said I am the owner
I can fulfill your desire
But, remember if I do it
You must spend time in the fire

I didn't know quite what he meant
And another drink was poured
I think it was my third or fourth
But, who was keeping score

Love is what you're after
That's what brought you to me
That's why you found this roadhouse
at 36 and 383

Love is yours forever
Though forever will soon end
I can give love everlasting
But, it isn't free my friend

You must want what I am giving
As he stared with eyes of coal
I will fulfill your hearts desire
But, in the end it costs your soul

The music had now faded
The crowd was there, but not
He moved a little closer
And I started feeling hot

The barkeep poured another
And I looked down and did see
A contract and a feather quill
With two names, and one was me

Was love worth what he's asking
I mean  my soul, that's quite a price
But, true love everlasting
Man, that sure sounds rather nice

He said sign at the bottom
And you can always drink for free
At this little outback roadhouse
At US 36 and 383

I told him I'd consider
And I got up to get some air
I told him I felt pressured
And I thought it quite unfair

He pushed the quill toward me
And said I can free you of your load
Just sign and stay forever
At our bar on this old road

I pushed back from the bar rail
Got outside and got some air
I turned when I got outside
And the roadhouse wasn't there

All I saw was just two highways
And I felt the wind sting  my face
I then knew I was at the crossroads
This was the devil's trading place

I survived here at the crossroads
Of US 36 and 383
And thought I didn't quit on love
Love done quit on me

So next time you're out driving
whether by truck or by car
just keep on a moving
if you see "Crossroads Bar"

Hari itu hari Sabtu. Dan, aku sedang ulangtahun.

Sepi. Hanya terdengar suara tetesan air dari keran yang lupa ditutup rapat di wastafel dapur. Desiran angin yang menggesek dedaunan di halaman belakang. Bambu angin yang bersiul di teras rumah tetangga sebelah. Jalanan beraspal yang kosong. Terpaan sinar matahari. Mangkuk beling yang diketuk penjual makanan keliling. Suara jarum detik jam dinding.
Dalam diam aku menunggu. Mahesa belum juga datang. Duduk di atas sofa, perlahan kulahap sekantung keripik kentang, suara iklan di televisi kini menjadi musik latar yang mengisi siang terikku yang sepi ini. Lupakan fakta bahwa kakakku, Mas Kekar, adalah satu-satunya orang yang mengingat hari ulangtahunku. Ucapan ulangtahunnya tiba tadi pagi pukul tujuh lewat pesan suara. Kalau ada Nenek, ia pasti akan membuat kue tar dan nanti malam kami akan duduk melingkar di atas meja makan, menyantapnya bersama-sama sambil minum teh lemon. Sayangnya, sekarang rumahnya jauh; di surga.
Tiba-tiba, telepon genggamku berbunyi. Satu notifikasi baru, ada satu pesan masuk. Dari Mahesa, katanya ia akan sampai lima menit lagi. Baiklah, akan kutunggu dengan sabar. Walaupun ia bilang akan menjemput pukul setengah dua belas ― aku sudah menunggunya sejak pukul sebelas lewat, sekarang pukul satu, dan lima menit lagi ia akan datang. Menghabiskan waktu seharian bersama Mahesa selalu menjadi momen istimewa bagiku, membuat jantung jumpalitan tak karuan, dan berakhir tersenyum-senyum sendiri setiap kali sebelum memejamkan mata di atas tempat tidur pada malam hari. Singkatnya adalah orang ini selalu membuatku bahagia, sadar atau tidak sadar dirinya, ialah sumber kebahagiaanku. Bulan dan bintang bagi malamku.
OK. Kubalas pesannya, lalu kubuka pesan-pesan lain yang mungkin belum kubuka. Tidak ada pesan lain atau telepon. Belum ada telepon dari Ayah ataupun pesan singkat. Entah kapan ia akan pulang. Entah kapan ia akan menyempatkan diri membuka kalender, teringat akan sesuatu, dan mengucapkan, “Selamat ulangtahun.”.
Aku berjanji tidak pernah ingin jadi orang yang hidup tanpa memiliki waktu.
Bel berbunyi dan pintu diketuk. Spontan, aku merapikan rambut, memakai tas selempang, dan bangkit. Kusiapkan senyum terbaik untuk menyambut Mahesa. Setelah pintu kubuka, senyumku langsung sirna. Mang Ijang, tukang pos daerah kami yang malah muncul.
“Siang Mbak Maura, ada tiga surat buat Bapak,” dia menyerahkan tiga surat berbentuk persegi panjang yang sangat familiar bagiku. Sudah berpuluh, bahkan mungkin ratusan kali aku menerima surat macam ini sejak lima tahun terakhir. Kubaca nama perusahaan yang tertera di kop surat itu. Masih sama seperti biasanya; bank, perusahaan listrik, perusahaan telepon.
“Tandatangan di sini dulu, Mbak,” Mang Ijang menyerahkan pulpen dan sebuah kertas tanda terima surat. Setelah kutandatangani, ia pergi.
Kubuka surat itu satu per satu sambil duduk di kursi teras. Surat-surat tagihan, seperti biasa. Hampir dua bulan rupanya Ayah tidak membayar tagihan telepon. Aku bahkan tidak berselera lagi membaca nominalnya. Aku menghela napas dan memandangi jalanan kosong di depan rumah. Kuputuskan untuk memakai earphone, memilih playlist di aplikasi musik, menunggu Mahesa di kursi teras sambil ditemani angin semilir.
5 menit.
Everything is Embarrassing – Sky Ferreira.
10 menit.
Please, Please, Please, Let Me Get What I Want – The Smiths.
15 menit.
Love Song – The Cure.
Dua puluh menit kemudian, Mahesa datang. Senyumku seketika merekah, walaupun ia terlihat begitu lelah. Kaos polo abu-abunya basah oleh keringat, dahinya dibanjiri keringat, napasnya terengah-engah dengan ritme yang tak beraturan. Aku duduk di sampingnya yang memegang kemudi dan masih bisa mencium wangi parfumnya samar-samar, meskipun tujuh puluh persennya sudah bercampur dengan semerbak peluh. Tapi, siapa peduli? Menurutku, ia tetap mengagumkan.
“Maaf lama, Ra. Tadi ada urusan penting yang mendadak,” katanya sambil memilih-milih saluran radio. 19.2, saluran radio yang khusus memutarkan musik-musik indie dan jadul. Mungkin ini salah satunya mengapa sejak awal aku tertarik dengan manusia yang satu ini dan berujung benar-benar mengaguminya, kami menyukai jenis musik yang sama. “Jadi, ke mana kita hari ini? Dan, akan mengobservasi apa?”
Kubuka catatan jadwal terakhir kami, “Hmm. Hari ini jadwal kita ke galeri seni kontemporer yang ada di sebelah balai kota dan pameran seni di hotel Metropolite. Kita bakal mengobservasi lukisan kontemporer supaya bisa membandingkan dengan jenis lukisan yang lain.”
Kamu benar, sesungguhnya ini hanyalah sekadar tugas kelompok bahasa Indonesia. Mungkin bagi Mahesa begitu, tapi bagiku bukan sama sekali. Kuanggap ini sebuah kebetulan yang ajaib. Kebetulan kami sekelompok. Kebetulan kami berdua sama-sama tidak masuk di hari ketika guru Bahasa Indonesia kami membagikan kelompok dan kami masuk ke dalam kelompok terakhir, kelompok sisa. Kebetulan kami memilih tema seni lukis dan belum ada kelompok lain yang mengambil topik itu. Kebetulan dua anggota kelompok kami yang lainnya tidak bisa diandalkan, yang satunya sakit berat dan yang satunya lagi sudah dikeluarkan dari sekolah sejak bulan lalu. Kebetulan hanya aku dan Mahesa yang tidak bermasalah. Maka, hanya kami berdua yang selalu jalan ke tempat-tempat untuk mengobservasi. Sejak saat itu, aku percaya akan keajaiban.
---
Semuanya berawal dari pertemuan singkat kami di minggu keempat kelas sebelas. Oke, ralat, bukan sebuah pertemuan lebih tepatnya, melainkan hanya aku yang memandanginya dari jauh. Namun, itu satu-satunya kejadian yang mungkin dapat memberi jawaban atas pertanyaan mengapa dan bagaimana perasaan ini bisa muncul. Bukan secara tidak sengaja dan spontan seperti yang biasa kau dapatkan di adegan jatuh cinta pada film-film romansa norak, tetapi adeganku sederhana, penuh kehati-hatian, dan perlahan.
Kelas sebelas adalah tahun yang cukup sulit bagiku. My dad was busy more than ever—well, until now dan itu tahun pertama Mas Kekar menginjakkan kaki di dunia perkuliahan. Dia diterima di salah satu universitas negeri ternama di Bandung, jadi hanya pulang ke rumah setiap akhir bulan. Aku punya waktu sendirian di rumah dengan jumlah yang berlebih.
In that year, my friends left me. Ghia pindah ke luar kota dan Kalista bergabung dengan anak-anak populer sejak mendaftar sebagai anggota baru di tim pemandu sorak. Kami hanya makan siang bersama pada beberapa hari di minggu pertama sekolah, setelah itu dia selalu dikelilingi dan menjadi bagian dari kelompok cewek-cewek pemakai lip tint merah dan seragam yang dikecilkan. Aku mengerti, barangkali dia memang menginginkan posisi itu sejak lama dan citra dirinya memang melejit pesat, membuat semua leher anak cowok melirik barang beberapa detik setiap ia berjalan di tengah koridor. Lagipula, jika ia sudah mendapatkan status sosial yang sangat hebat itu, mana mungkin dia masih mau berteman dengan orang sepertiku? Maura, the average one, yang selalu mendengarkan musik lewat earphone, yang lebih banyak menyantap bekal di dalam kelas pada jam istirahat. Aku hanya masih tidak paham bagaimana seseorang yang semula kau kenal bisa berubah menjadi orang lain secepat itu.
Tapi, hal lainnya yang cukup melegakan di tahun itu adalah aku bertemu dengan Indira. Kami berkenalan pada hari Senin di minggu kedua kelas sebelas, hari pertama dia masuk sekolah setelah seminggu penuh dirawat di rumah sakit karena DBD. Begitu melihatku duduk sendirian di baris paling belakang, dia buru-buru menghampiri sambil bertanya, “Sebelahmu kosong?”. Sejak itulah kami berteman.
Indira dan teman-temannya biasa menghabiskan makan siang di bangku koridor lantai satu yang menghadap ke lapangan, bukan di kantin. Walaupun secara harfiah aku bukan salah satu bagian dari kelompok pertemanan mereka, Indira selalu mengajakku bergabung dan orang-orang baik itu rupanya menerimaku.
Di bangku koridor itu kali pertama aku memerhatikan anak laki-laki yang bermain bola setiap jam istirahat kedua. Hanya ada dua-tiga orang kukenal, itu juga karena mereka teman sekelasku sekarang atau di kelas sepuluh, sementara selebihnya orang asing bagiku. Di antaranya ada yang berperawakan tinggi, rambut tebal, rahang yang tegas. Aku hanya belum tahu siapa namanya waktu itu.
Selanjutnya, aku bertemu dengan laki-laki itu di kantin, sedang duduk bersama beberapa cowok yang tidak kukenal, tertawa lepas. Mungkin karena aku jarang ke kantin, aku baru melihatnya di sana waktu itu. Pada acara demo ekskul, aku melihat dia lagi. Bermain bass di atas panggung. Anggota klub musik rupanya. Pemain bass. Pada hari-hari berikutnya, aku lebih sering melihatnya berjalan di koridor depan kelasku, kadang sendirian dengan earphone, kadang ada beberapa temannya. Anak kelas sebelas juga rupanya, jurusan IPS juga. Hari-hari berikutnya, selalu kutengokkan kepala ke jendela setiap kali ia lewat di depan kelasku. Aku penasaran, kenapa mataku tidak pernah melihat orang semenarik dia sebelumnya? Dan, kenapa dia hanya muncul di tempat dan saat-saat tertentu, seperti saat istirahat, masuk sekolah, dan jam pulang? Hari-hari berikutnya, berpapasan dengannya membuatku senang sekaligus semakin penasaran. Dia anggota klub fotografi juga, aktif, sering memimpin rapat anggota di kantin sepulang sekolah, dan ternyata karyanya banyak dipublikasikan di majalah sekolah. Dari situ aku tahu namanya, Mahesa.
---
“Geser ke kanan sedikit. Bukan, bukan, sedikiiit lagi. Sedikiiit, oke, pas!”
Sebagai dokumentasi, Mahesa memotret beberapa lukisan dari berbagai angle dan beberapa kali memintaku untuk berpose ala-ala tak sadar kamera. Tentu saja aku pasti bersedia, selalu bersedia. Dia juga merekam keadaan sekitar dalam bentuk video, yang katanya, bakal dia edit menjadi super artsy.
“Percaya sama gue, kita bakal jadi tim paling keren yang menghasilkan dokumentasi paling berseni, Ra,” kata Mahesa sambil tersenyum sendiri melihat hasil jepretannya.
Destinasi terakhir kami—pameran lukisan yang sedang digelar selama seminggu di hotel Metropolite—akan tutup sepuluh menit lagi, tepat pukul tujuh malam. Setelah terakhir kalinya Mahesa merekam keadaan pameran dan beberapa pengunjung yang masih melihat-lihat, baterai kameranya habis. Sebelum pulang, Mahesa bilang dia tahu tempat makan enak di sekitaran sini. Jadi, kami mampir untuk mengisi perut dengan soto ayam dan berbincang-bincang sebentar, setelah itu baru benar-benar pulang.
Di perjalanan pulang, derai hujan turun perlahan. Karena rumah kami terletak di pinggiran kota, jadi kami harus melalui jalan tol atau kalau tidak, akan lebih jauh. Mahesa memencet-mencet tombol radio, mencari saluran nomor 19.2, tapi setelah mendengar acara yang dibawakan penyiar radio, dia langsung mengganti asal saluran radio yang lain. Saluran radio yang menyiarkan lagu-lagu pop kekinian yang sedang hits.
“Sekali-kali dengerin genre lain, ya, Ra,” katanya sambil menginjak rem. Jalanan seketika padat merayap di depan kami. Mungkin karena hujan mulai deras, jalanan mulai tergenang, orang-orang mengemudi dengan lebih hati-hati.

(bersambung.)