"effected" poems
When we fell asleep video chatting every night for a month
When I cried because you were the first person to make me feel like I wasn’t alone
When you excitedly told me about kissing a girl in a cemetery
When you sent me videos of your dirt bike
When we went cruising and listened to songs from our favourite band
When you tried to teach me how to game
When you told me everything you love about your girlfriend
When you talked about engines and cars with me even though I didn’t understand
When you saw I was feeling bad even at the one place I’m always happy
When you didn’t ask questions when I asked you to get rid of my razors, but instead told me how proud you were
When you held me as I cried, knowing I hate crying in front of people
When you let me fall asleep holding you even though I was cold and wet
When you held my hand when we woke up on the day when everyone had to leave
When you let me hug you a hundred times because you knew how much I’d miss you
When you gave me closeness and friendship and love unlike anything I’d ever known before
When we sat in my porch for 3 hours after fireworks were shot at people during a party, so you could make sure I was okay
When you let me cuddle you even though your friends would give you a hard time
When you told me you’d help me out if anyone ever hurt me
When you took a selfie with me
When you carried me everywhere *** I was tired
When you held my hand going down a steep trail because I couldn’t see and you knew I was scared
When you brought me extra food because you knew I skipped lunch
When you were protective over who I was friends with
When I came over to your house for the first time and we made pizza, gamed, and hung out with your family
When you had you first kiss with me
When you always showed you were protective of me and became the big brother I never had
When you told me you were bi on the first day we met
When you told me that only people you know well or that you like get to know you’re bi
When you cried and told me all your favourite facts and memories of a friend who had betrayed you
When you told me I had a cute nose
When you fell asleep holding my hand
When we hugged eachother after not seeing eachother for a year
When we kissed for the first time
When we kissed more
When you were my date
When you told me I was the only non-celebrity you’d go gay for
When we danced together
When we agreed to have an annual one week relationship
When you were the first girl I loved
When I met these people I never thought we’d get to the point were at now.
I doubt I’ve effected their lives as much as they’ve effected mine but it doesn’t even really matter because I have them and that’s all that matters to me
Aug 25, 2018
Aug 25, 2018 at 6:07 PM UTC
I'm on the run
And not for fun
The police are chasing
My heart is racing
When my life is at stake
My morality I'll break
The police release the hounds
I can hear their deadly sounds
They want to maim me
I want to stay me
I decide to fight the charging canines
Because I just snorted a ******* line
My judgement loses length
To my influx of strength
I break the dogs' legs
Until they beg
That's not enough
Sorry Scruff
The steel gun I fire
A furry cop retired
The police attack me
For defending myself
They refuse to see
The danger to my health
They chose to use crazy canines
So I feel the fault isn't mine
That doesn't change their decision
For me to die slowly in prison
I am in the teeth of the government
Much to my human wonderment
This is the way I'll spend the rest of my life
For the decisions I made at the end of a knife
The irony is cops **** dogs all the time
Yet they obstruct their vision of the line
Where it ceases to be man versus society
And becomes man versus nature
When a man is in peril
He must turn feral
But in a country that blindly idolizes aggression
The police don't acknowledge this discretion
They dig their teeth into our skin
While draining us financially
The only way we'll ever win
Is if things change substantially
Sadism fervently fuels the flames of conflict
With an exasperated public sick of being kicked
Cruelty is what they witness
To lose their mental fitness
How can they protect their babies
When the police have rabies?
The police relationship with the effected public will never shift
When there's a Cereberus between them maintaining the rift
Oct 24, 2017
Oct 24, 2017 at 5:35 AM UTC
The left of center
are in north bound throes of a dupe
and can't begin to forecast this wonder of polluted marvel,
in the morrow
my optics discharged in a catastrophic traversal
While whimsy and accidental feels like I've taken pills
a power rain this sobbing has spilled
No longer to be contained based on sheer will
Attacked by neurotic transcending
While sifting through files and photo stacks
Came across multiples of your smiling face
From when I shot you, a couple hundred miles back
No one would dare debase the abundance of your emitted grace
Bloodshot mist eyed and blind from tears
control lost during transport steer
Drips off my cheek pouring down my chest
Could make great sense to don a life vest
Filling up floorboards like a spraying firehose
Shattering cascades diamondize the windows
A single glance at an image turns farmland into rural seaquake
If they interview my lifeless corpse what a headline this will make,
turning tragedy into a foolish mistake
people will curse and laugh
Paved over roads now films unseen
when dusk fuse night from the weep my eyes dispensed
Elements effected by incidents
Rising waves climb over to decimate interstate 65
All over a tiny tear drop and her sweet smiling photograph
Oct 20, 2018
Oct 20, 2018 at 8:01 PM UTC
My transcendent transition
Brought by my ****** ambition
Became my personal religion
When I gained a monk's chastity
All my pleas just came back to me
My prayers remain unanswered
Like someone dying of cancer
An inept bow-legged dancer
My skills are useless
My bites are toothless
My eyes are youthless
When my face has been strained
By the energy that was drained
On this ceaseless journey
To sate my ceaseless yearning
They don't look like the pictures they show
They only choose the photos that glow
They're so afraid of being alone
Willing to lie
To lure unsuspecting prey
And trap them in a spider web personality
But webs are useless against grander creatures
And become an annoyance
When all the wildlife
Can only see silk
And get itchy in the effected areas
In our minds we build barriers
In our hearts we grow wearier
Searching for someone to hold us tight at night
Someone that looks right in the light
Someone that helps fight all our plights
Someone to give that tranquil transition
Into that peaceful loving condition
Jul 28, 2017
Jul 28, 2017 at 4:23 AM UTC
The Equalist!
RE: The guerrilla girl’s poster 5% women artists yet 85% of the models are female.
This poster was heralded as a feminist rebuff of misogyny and the male gaze.
It is my opinion: one of the reasons females are more sexualised than males in Western society; is because the majority of women working in a sexualised industry such as modelling, dancing, fashion or *********** choose to perpetuate that role and the connection between *** and femininity; often in industries where females outnumber the men six to one; I'm also aware that the majority of the hierarchy in theses industries are male, it seems their gender solidarity is more concerned with the money; than notions of ****** inequality; thus perpetuating the issue.
Vernacular test:
Step one - Question one:
I took a survey of 30 fellow artists asking what is a misandry? followed by what is your gender?
Step two - Question two:
I took a survey of 30 fellow artists asking what is a misogyny? followed by what is your gender?
I did offer any information or allow any of the subjects to see the survey paper, or overhear the question.
Results: 30 subjects took part in the survey; One female knew both words and their meaning, and one female didn't know what Misogyny was. (Two females approached refused to take part in the survey, all men approached engaged.)
Step three - Question three:
I then gave all the subjects the dictionary definition and asked why they thought the vernacular misandry is not as well known as the word misogyny?
(I should add that I too couldn't recall the vernacular meaning of: Misandry; though I could recall the meaning or definition of Misogyny.)
Answers:
Female... "I don't care"
Female... "It's due to a gender economic imbalance"
Female..."Blokes just don't like it when women speak out about it"
Female..."I don't get involved in protests"
Female..."I don't know"
Female..."Men just think with their ******
Female... "There's more misogynists"
Female... "Because men are pigs"
Female... "Why does it mater"
Female... "It's just a word"
Female... "I'm not interested"
Female..."Try being a women"
Female... " It's ******** it's just a vernacular"
Female..."You wouldn't understand your a man"
The other 5 Females... chose to offer no explanation.
Answers:
Male..."I don't know"
Male... "who cares"
Male... "Yeh that's interesting"
Male... Why does it matter"
Male... "Let me think about it"
Male... "Who gives a ****
Male... "What's this about"
Male... "Can I see the results later"
The other 2 males... Chose to offer no explanation.
I personally identify as human; and don't wish to be defined, labeled or marginalised; I also don’t believe that secularism in any measure is healthy or meaningful in an inclusive society.
I question why 29 out of 30 subjects had heard of Misogyny; and just one person had heard of Misandry.
Sexism is not as the dictionary suggested prejudice, stereotyping, or discrimination, typically against women.
Everyone is effected buy prejudice, stereotyping, or discrimination.
The subtleties of which is played out every day.
Feb 5, 2020
Feb 5, 2020 at 11:32 AM UTC
Her Masterpiece Is Her Story
Her paintbrush is a razor,
Her canvas, her wrists,
"I deserve the pain."
She shrugs and insists.
One day the brush will push down,
And it will cut so deep,
That this girl will fall
into an eternal sleep.
She doesn't remember how she started
What brought her interest to this,
How do you discover,
that cutting is your form of bliss?
No one would have guessed that she does it.
No one would have considered this one.
This girl is forever fighting a battle,
that she thinks the demons have won.
Her artwork is all over her,
Her beauty is on her thighs,
and if you look in her old trash,
you'll find her letters of goodbye.
Her masterpiece is quite disturbing,
Her masterpiece is a little gory,
Her artwork is her escape.
Let me tell you her story.
She compares herself to every person,
She is compared to each girl.
She thinks she's hideous,
And there's this boy that is her world.
She was bullied and picked on,
She was teased from head to toe,
Hard to believe that her best friend,
was her one and only foe.
Then later she disliked every little thing,
Her body, face and even her mind,
Soon she saw she was a failure,
and it was just in due time...
That this girl couldn't take it anymore
She'd decided she was done living this,
So one day she went home
and decided to end it.
Everyday for multiple days,
This girl would try to drown,
Hard to believe this girl at school,
never ever wore a frown.
Sometimes she'd just fall asleep crying,
Praying that she'd be enough,
Because she didn't want to leave her family.
She knew about their sweet love.
This girl found hope in small things eventually,
She soon would see this beautiful light,
and find a REAL best friend,
that helped her put up a fight.
Her masterpiece soon was leaving,
Her artwork was almost faded,
and it gave her a sick feeling,
the feeling of being jaded.
She found a boy that actually loved her,
And showed her love exists,
And this boy too had a masterpiece,
placed close to his wrists.
He related to her and she related to him.
She kissed his artwork and said he's not alone,
When she cut herself it hurt him,
Her masterpiece now wasn't just her own.
Her masterpiece effected others,
Her artwork wasn't just for herself,
She now had people,
who saw her cries for help.
And then her family found out,
So then they saw the art too,
to them they were just scars,
To her they were the truth.
She's trying to be okay now,
She thinks she might survive,
Even though they didn't think
to take away the knives.
Dec 4, 2015
Dec 4, 2015 at 10:24 AM UTC
I scoffed at my minor cough
Until I was immobile as a sloth
I had to press pause on my life's tale
After I became a beached whale
And my body turned frail
In my illness jail
My stoic resolve tested
My pain threshold crested
The way I act is antisocial
The way I feel is anti-hopeful
For I treat others poorly
When I'm hurting sorely
In sickness for health
I give away my wealth
To feel one hundred percent
That's the physician's intent
To make me experience drainage
But I need the healing medicine
So I can practice the discipline
Of removing my diseased shark's fin
Ramses II, known as Ramesses the Great
Had a permanently fractured finger
And his teeth were significantly rotten
The pharaoh's excruciating pain
Must have effected his reign
A massive amount of men slain
Is discomfort what's to blame?
When there's no pain relief
We give each other grief
And there's a lion with a thorn stuck in its paw
Eventually that simple thorn becomes a claw
Nov 6, 2017
Nov 6, 2017 at 9:25 AM UTC
With an old secret
I sank into her endless eyes
Pondering over laws
That effected such marvel
And leased me to madness
Words were melting in my mouth
She, refraining her turn of phrase
A tear rolled down my cheek
Stirring passion's tongue
A tear rolled down hers
Wielding my soul ablaze
I rejoiced in silence
Lest I betray my confidence
She handled my eyes
Spotting my inference
I could no longer bear
The fruits of my fear
I leaned over and touched
Her sculptured nails tenderly
Freeing my emotion
She smiled coyly
Sealing my devotion.
Oct 19, 2019
Oct 19, 2019 at 2:49 AM UTC
*Your kiss effected an explosion,
catapulting bats hanging from the tree of my memories,
warm full lips, exuded the flavor of banana flowers,
in time of ******* out nectar, from it
I imbibed the heady feeling,
it garrulously spoke about my idyllic childhood in the village
and on your inner environment too,
that prompted your kiss, so fervid, full of longing.*
Jan 10, 2014
Jan 10, 2014 at 3:53 AM UTC
Nothing is ever time wasted,
just the interlude to the rest of the album. Soon it becomes nostalgia. To think you almost pressed the skip button..
It's all about trying new things.
Slowing were briding the gap.
Looping untold tales of blues and jazz into our samples.
The things considered classical.
Instant vintage.
The things we keep hidden in headphones,
The venerability of hype.
It's always about the crowd.
Afraid to digest something different.
This was the first time I met her.
At first I laughed,
Reaction that I faced my own ignorance.
Listening again finding purpose.
Not knowing that we'd come to spend the rest of our lives together.
All three minutes and forty five seconds.
I was dishonest.
Not revealing anything real about myself until I heard it for the first time.
The first time she sung.
Music.
This wasn't an image to be upheld in front of others.
Or the gossip type spread circle to circle.
I was never exposed to this.
Skimming the top layer ready to press next.
Too far caught in the slander that first impressions can give.
History often repeats itself but this wasn't the case.
This was wholeheartedly the epitome of how she effected me.
The rhythm of how she moved.
How she spoke.
Like that I matured almost instantly.
She became my biggest influence.
A two way street that bridged the gap of my own ignorance.
After time I began to leave my headphones on the dresser.
We were amplified.
She'd follow me everywhere just as I'd follow her.
Soon it caught on to the masses.
Each and every thought became a publicist of what she'd recite over and over again.
A parental advisory issued with every cover.
Finding the one became a catalog.
Stumbling back to the first interlude all over again.
The copyright not for sell
Mar 13, 2018
Mar 13, 2018 at 10:48 PM UTC
She thought about writing you. She told me she longer knows how to feel towards you. You've taken her and rung her out too many times. She says "he cares" like its a question and you can see disappointment in her eyes, with a side of hope. As disappointment grows, hope fades. Know that her hope only goes so far but disappointment won't go away. In the way she looks at you, it's there. How she carries herself, it's there. You've effected her in ways even she will never understand, but you can't see anyone but yourself. Her worst fear is becoming anything like you, see but you don't understand all the damage you leave behind just when you walk. You're consumed with yourself and it's sickening to call someone so selfish, so clueless your father. And I'm glad I wrote this because she never would.
Feb 12, 2014
Feb 12, 2014 at 11:38 PM UTC
Sometimes I do too much
Say too much
Feel too much
And when I don't do enough
I feel lost
I saw how my habits effected me
Now I see how they effect others
My negativity being the leading cause of my world crashing in
But I won't let that win
I just can't
I'm rebuilding the demolished wreck that was my life
And the next time someone tries to knock it down
I will put up a fight
I can't keep living like this
I just cant
Thinking that this dude was the cause
When honestly I just gave up
Relied on others to get me through
When all I did was try and bring them down with me too
I'm sorry
I made my best friend question our friendship
Making her think it was a suicide hotline
1-800-SAVE-ME
I'm sorry
That I let my demons come between us
And thankfully you are the realest person in my life
Who took me
And shook me
Telling me to change or she would back away
I understand space
Just know that I love you
And I'm going to improve
After the musical you won't even recognize me
I'll still be as white as can be
With the same personality
But I will be there for you
Just like you've been there for me
I can't even remember what my smile looks like
But it will be returning tonight
Mar 6, 2014
Mar 6, 2014 at 7:51 PM UTC
Go through hell once, try to let go and forget.
The others come in, and there's the upset.
I'll be the bigger person, that job is done.
When it comes to getting praised and credit,
there is none.
Never knowing our right place.
You don't even have to say it to my face.
We are smart enough to find out what is said about me and everyone else there is no doubt.
But as the days go on,
and more is discussed as we say it and talk,
we forget who and what the problem is really about.
I walk this place alone, no problem there.
But you putting this weight on my shoulders creates you into being unfair.
There is no blame.
I feel no shame.
Since I said what I needed and did what I had to do,
and I handled with such maturity, discipline, strength and even,
I did everything and was very sane.
I won the game.
However, even if you are still very ****** off and horrified at what I did and if you don't agree, you have no reason to.
But I will be civil on you.
But for now on, let my decisions be up to me.
Where I go shall be seen in my eyes .
Perhaps my independence
will represent what you heard from the other side.
They were lies.
False criticisms, endless battles, force, and belief in no point of view but our own.
I may have frustration, anger, and obsessive talk,
but I have kindness to loan.
I have the right to lift off and release this pushing weight.
It's about the problem
not a persons annoying trait.
We all learned from this falling out,
even though I never received my apology.
I am over this and I didn't lose anything.
I can still breathe.
You learned so much from me.
Now, I understand everything, but I am not sorry.
I have words put in my mouth.
I have depression in my body and my head.
It's time for you to understand
the words that I said.
Now thank you for noticing
how I struggled with this weight on my shoulders.
Very heavy indeed.
I felt this weight that you all put on me went in and through my muscles and it effected me mentally.
It's now your turn to feel it.
And take in and accept your doing in this falling out that occurred.
You cannot let it push you down,
and you cannot let it make you trip.
So now,
you feel the pain I dealt with.
And even though I forgive without any sorrow,
I see now,
that you get it. I am right indeed, and you know
why I did it.
Jun 3, 2014
Jun 3, 2014 at 11:28 PM UTC
punto / contrappunto (patty m /nat)
(on the why of messaging, on the Underground HP)
none can fly, all can fly
except in words, in deeds, indeed,
yet others turn those who believe turn
lead into gold, golden faerie dreams real,
penciled in the salvation hints inked upon the skin
of the host, the blessing are the blessings of the host,
of solving great puzzles. deeds of salvation solutions.
Yet unbeknownst for many. known to all
its jiggling all the quarks, the clashing of the neutrons
spinning electrons that within all of our protein protons
affect many, effected upon each,
invisible all is hidden. where all was hidden, now visible
the message that isn't let our acts speak ever louder
transmitted, realized,
holds no power, yet it a time for action
remains a black screen for each message, now an action
in the catacombs in the clarity of daylight
waiting, waiting there, no longer waiting,
millions of little pieces each action a deed
when finally viewed the summation total
grows gargantuan
funneling radiation
from the sun.
Climbing roofs, to the streets leaping
sliding down drainpipes knocking to open all doors
to the street, filling the stadiums & squares
I'll wait with you, no laggards, all in attendence
**they will come,
poet after poet,
spreading the word,
words to deeds, each of us
a messenger and a conductor,
orchestrating the symphony
of revelation.**
Patty m. Nat
Jun 9, 2017
Jun 9, 2017 at 11:50 AM UTC
You know the way your hair flips drives me crazy
You have a smile that drives me wild
You've made me laugh even when I can't stop crying
You've held my hand through a dark time
You make my world a better place
You fight the demons of the human race
You make this all a possibility
I just want to thankyou my Andy
I can't word how much this has effected me. I mean you've been here for me and i dont even know how to say what i need to. Thankyou
Dec 20, 2014
Dec 20, 2014 at 5:13 PM UTC
The air is brittle this ominous, wintry night.
The slivers of a life you used to know still haunt you, as surely as you have permitted them to be a haunt to others.
Without question, it is those memories that spur your ruminations; that cause your copious circumlocutions; which compell you to stand on this somber boulevard in front of this crumbling, but once stately manor that now is a languid presence with the solitary purpose of looming over the vast grounds.
It is obligatory that you proceed along the avenue that used to split the yards that are now overgrown and chocoblock with twisted vines, and thistles.
You pause, to gather your strength.
One deep inhailation and then you hold your breath as you grip the tarnished handle and lock leaver.
With a perfect measure of strength your thumb recalls, the mechanism is undone.
Your arm pushes forward.
The silence is disturbed by a warbling creak as the heavy door is slowly opened.
You exhale, then before you lose your nerve you quickly pass through the ingress and enter into the foyer,
which is instantly familiar in the dim, flickering light and the long, slender adumbrations effected by the gossamer encaked voltives jutting from the dusty walls.
Though it has remaned unchanged
throughout all the time that has passed, standing in the ornate room affirms that the warmth with which you used to be recieved here has been abandoned to a frigidity.
You feel as if this room remembers you.
This is as far as I dare go with you, my friend, though I know you must continue.
I have listened to your stories, so
I know you have many rooms to search.
The closier that you seek is in a matter that is not my own.
I will depart upon rendering these words of warning:
When visiting the past,
As you daringly explore these often haralded halways,
Be careful what you leave behind.
Take caution not to lose yourself,
For a shadow lingers in the Suite Sublime.
Mar 26, 2015
Mar 26, 2015 at 6:59 PM UTC
Oh Henry
What a star you are!
You always loved to be at the center of attention
Your accomplishments in diplomacy are well known
You brokered the peace treaty between Israel and Egypt
You effected detente with the Soviet Union
You opened up the way for Nixon in China
You negated the Communist threat in Chile
You said it yourself
"Power is the ultimate aphrodisiac.”
You have admitted that mistakes were
"Quite possibly made"
By administrations in which you served.
You have questioned whether, 30 years after the event,
"Courts are the Appropriate means by which determination is made".
And Cambodia Henry?
You were complicit
In the illegal carpet bombing of neutral Cambodia
Which sowed the seeds for the murderous Pol *** regime
Pinochet was indicted for human rights violations
Diplomacy is a ***** business
You did what you thought needed to be done
You remain cold and secretive
Do you have any remorse or regret?
The old Russian proverb is wrong Henry
Time does not heal all wounds
There is blood on your hands
Sep 14, 2014
Sep 14, 2014 at 11:06 PM UTC
Living in the shadows
Coming out at night
Working your way to the shallows
But only when out of sight
Crawling through the corridors
I see people near
They are all foreigners
But they will never know Im here
This is my land
No one must see
It's pathetic but its grand
And it belongs to me
Collecting every treasure
And every memory
I do this for pleasure
And to create some thing extraordinary
I'm alone so solemnly
But only if every one knew
They strike up my curiosity
And inspire me to create too
This is my land
No one must see
It's pathetic but its grand
And it belongs to me
One day it will be time
To stop being disconnected
I hope for it to be sublime
I want to show them how much of me they have effected
I will one day come out of the dark
And show off every thing for people to see
I will try and make my mark
And show them what they mean to me
This is my land
But I want you to see
It's pathetic but its grand
I hope it means as much to you as it does to me
Dec 21, 2016
Dec 21, 2016 at 3:13 PM UTC
Elusive.
Cunning.
Effected by nothing
and sparked by no one.
Spontaneous,
yet constant.
It may hide when you want it,
appear when you do not.
It comes with haste,
or slows its pace.
A child mischievous,
rebellious,
innocent, oblivious.
To force the hand of change,
like paper tossed to air...
A direct path it does not take.
Aug 8, 2012
Aug 8, 2012 at 1:26 PM UTC
The Hardest Forgiving Slant
<|>
9:19am Fri Sept 22 2023 ~ 8:02am Fri Sep 29 2023
commenced during the Ten Days of Awe
<|>
we debase our language daily,
robbing the spectacular majesty [example]
of awe with the common overusing
vernacular of “awesome”
especially forgiveness is degraded,
we utter “I’m sorry” trippingly,
costless, less than cheap, with even the
snap-on veneer (1) of sincerity discarded,
but move on to the next rudeness
but today I will not permit myself
an easy letting-off-the-hook, no shifting
of blame to anonymity, or fast forward to tomorrow,
when we can obfuscate our intrepid
dishonesty one more time…again
to forgive those who have injured us,
not that hard, or the judging deities,
who silently wink and nod, but offer
no certitude beyond trying, itself a
maybe, maybe not, truly tiring this
trying tacking the constant requests
so first an etymology explication on
the tension inherent that very word,
f o r g i v e
As a word, as a sensed,
intuitively-
it is a
Perfect Continuous Infinitive! (2)
to
forgive is
perfect,
to forgive is
continuous,,
to forgive is
infinite!
what a marvelous, perpetual
past, present and always futuristic
word (alas)
The Hardest Forgiving?
to forgive oneself
so nearer to impossible,
the first responders doing triage,
leave people like me for last,
as it a unconditional condition
with no cure that can be effected
indeed, by our very affect,
they instant diagnosis seeing our
very gestures, body language, or ****** expressions,
all reveal the hopelessness of
the never-to-be-given-grace,
among us
for a thousand years,
I have tried and failed to forgive myself
for the worst I’ve done,
and there is no sword or club,
blood-letting,
that can dispatch the onerous burden I carry
so I write poetry,
a salve that offers
temporary relief,
while I write,
imposed a
momentarily distracting,
a kind of dusting of self~spin,
that chills myself
just until
the, this!
poem is finished,
the slant is drawn
<§>
Tell all the truth but tell it slant —
BY EMILY DICKINSON
Tell all the truth but tell it slant —
Success in Circuit lies
Too bright for our infirm Delight
The Truth's superb surprise
As Lightning to the Children eased
With explanation kind
The Truth must dazzle gradually
Or every man be blind —
Sep 29, 2023
Sep 29, 2023 at 8:12 AM UTC
Pradip marks the slow disappearance of faces in the market,
unknown yet familiar and thus important to the senses,
for our eyes crave continuity, comfort reassuring that time,
even time that robber par excellent, still provides some comfort
to our souls, in its own way, even the faces of strangers in familiar places are road markers, bookmarks, that even the known unknown offer a measure of solace, as we traverse the old familiar places
of daily life.
it must be remedied. some of you know that I make not idle promises,
that my promises to be there are effected, for I am affected by the
repair of the world in little, measurable manners, so the iCal calendar
modified with a Visit Pradip++, a new addition…
and on the way there
are few more exotic places where poetry grows that
will require some
layover visitations…
only time in its theiving secretive ways stands between me and
you denied grasping arms, taking the measure physical of a
beating heart
and river-wide smile,
maybe even I’ll practice with a trip to
remote foreign places, which they speak
the languages of poetry too,
Snake River, even Iowa!
olp/n.n.
Dec 19, 2023
Dec 19, 2023 at 9:34 AM UTC
Life on this Earth is very brief
We get mirth as well as grief
For this Cosmos God is the chief
He knows when to give relief
He puts soul into the body
To watch He is ever ready
He at last gives a remedy
Occur tragedy and comedy
He controls the entire Cosmos
He is truly the exclusive boss
He is in charge of profit and loss
Inscrutable are His Divine laws
He exercises fullest control
In the placement of soul
None knows His ultimate goal
He gives to every soul a role
Surely we can end an ant
Or destroy a helping plant
Or a mantra we can chant
Alms to the poor we can grant
Our freedom is wisely restricted
Actions are by our will effected
Noble souls are by God protected
Truth is by Him perfectly detected
The smallest creature also moves
Soul is there it strongly proves
In this way our doubts God removes
Our trust in God like this improves
Death makes the soul exit
Birth helps the soul visit
To live God will permit
Its need, end will submit
What pleasure God derives?
Why a soul here arrives?
Why God creates lives?
Why forever nothing survives?
Answers can surely be one day found
But, a soul must reach the burial ground
Its body must never at all move around
Great revelations will come to astound.
M V VENKATARAMAN
Jul 29, 2011
Jul 29, 2011 at 8:19 AM UTC
I can't let myself keep awake about you.
You have absolutely no idea.
None at all, how I lie here and just
Think
And think.
Remembering you and me in darkness,
Music all around us.
Sometimes flashes of this.
Sometimes long detailed thoughts.
Trying to remember every action,
Every word said.
It all gets twisted around.
Distorted the more my mind pushes for a visceral connection to hold onto.
To relive again those moments between you and I.
I feel vulnerable in my thoughts.
I had a notion that I kept my emotions closed up tight.
No one could decipher my state of mind.
But as I always do,
I feel transparent around you.
And it frustrates me to no end.
Seeing signs, unwillingly, in everyday things.
Reminders of you in some little way.
Unconscious happenings, until the third time's a charm and I take notice.
Is some higher power trying to tell me something or what?
Is it useless to believe divine intervention could have a hand in my life?
Can't I think God is involved in my insignificant place in the world?
How can happenstance be blamed?
It's seems to me that I know you,
Or what I want to assume you are, given the chance to get that close.
And I can't be your distraction.
The phase that occurred between the running away and the falling back to.
I refuse to accept that role.
To be so rootless to your life.
That's not fair to me.
Not at all.
Especially when I have no idea how I came to be here.
In this complex emotional pond.
I just woke up one day and it was.
And I didn't get to prepare.
And it's not fair.
Let me have my walls back because now I am stuck.
Thanks to you, I'm stuck somewhere across from a breakdown and beside staircase.
Maybe you're a twin mirror of me though.
You might have just been paying more attention to the details.
Been more effected than I was, faster than I realized perhaps?
Whatever the case is, it's thrown me.
And I lay here every night think, thinking.
Somehow paranoid you can feel me conjuring memories of us.
Maybe wishing you could feel it every time you come into my head.
Like a ringing in your ears.
So then I wouldn't have to be alone in all this turmoil.
Not tragic just inconvenient.
It's as if I have a fantastic vision for a painting but no brushes to stoke with.
I'm baffled.
And I don't know where to go from here.
This limbo, half self imposed.
The saddest thing though,
Is that I kind of relish those thoughts.
Because for now they make me feel not so alone.
© NDHK
Jan 5, 2013
Jan 5, 2013 at 6:44 AM UTC
People I have taken for granted
in my past still affect me
NOW.
But in my defence
I .
Would like to change things
AT LAST.
So I would like to say sorry and
DREAM.
Dream all the people that I have effected
AND RELISE WE WOULD NEVER HAVE BEEN.
Apr 29, 2012
Apr 29, 2012 at 5:27 PM UTC