Taken, gotten, or made, the point of anything
can pierce through everything…

slow
Slow think,
make real

re-al-ize
what fighting for life is…
this is the only
try,
it is not a test.

Take your time, use it wisely,
if that means anything.
Wise, I meant.
No offence, if wise is anathema to your kind,
die,
die if I knocked the reason for being right
outa you,
did you hear cognitive dissonance?
did it sound like
this. LOUD?
listen,
rolling rolling rolling
crash crumble rolled in nurse rime frosted
fables of monsters and maids
Thor, witharoar likka Lion King?

or the light brigade,
CHARGE?

thunder words from lost generations of
reasonless riddles for children,

Why did Peter Pumpkin-eater have a wife, but
couldn't keep her here?
Was that okeh? Oh, wait.
Ah, I see, I say,
they never tell that whole story any more.

Know why? They forgot it. In the war.

Duck'n'cover,no
crying, how long?
When begins forever? Did no one tell you, child?

Taken or made, the point of anything
can pierce through everything
like it was nothing, given
enough pre-sure-sup
poser-power

War, as a game, has a reason.

Battle, hitting, slapping

stop touch, stop now slap
slap back

or cry
oh no no ma

waddayahsay?  A theist or atheist
who started this war?

space case, or
lover of wisdom, met on the road
to Emmaus, discussing Wiles's proof
firming Fermi's connection to the matter of fear,
3, 2, 1

Kaboom, but with a whump you feel in your teeth

1, 2, 3 Fermat's last theorem ,
easy as pi an no re me

ABC to
Michael Jackson to
Howard Bloom because he

inadvertently, began
an-ionic converstatic re-vibe time warp
meme,
which vibe, started the legendary Sixties. I was alive.
Radioman,
a sixty cycle white-noise humm heard every where these days

There was a gospel song, "Turn Your Radio On".
my theme, open the window in the top of your head,
as it were,
a new,
as new as

a novel-state of water, H three Ohs, re-al-ity ification,
Ah, a shared Oh, I remember now, how this works…

like a poem

at the edge of a water vapor bubble in a boiling body of water,
at the edge of the bubble, water becomes a wall of water,
not vapor, not flowing liquid,

but a wall, insulating the vapor in pressing opposing force
to permit, from permission,
meaning with a message same as the message,

is that the right word? per-mission-grant, is power given,
agency,
that idea….
wait for the sign….?

By sharing an ion ic bond as a quest to make a point
for a free story to go,
the question marks you. Let the snake dance.

Press your point,

whetted edge,

slice through ties holding worthless axioms
with withered dendrites dangling disconnected
in participles
unfired for centuries muttering,
enchanting, enthralling enchained melodies
of ambitious syllables vying for idle minds
to rope in,
unbranded, wild
bucking ideas,
whip-twig, slap-face,
tanglewood  thicket, catclaw and mesquite,
willow,

wait.
And the old man remembered the willow whistle,
so He asked Grandfather,
How is such a whistle made?
And when he knew,
he made one.

A willow whistle with two notes,
like an Oscar Meir Wiener one.

-- and that was a different time
I got lost here, bucked up…
maybe
--- listen, way back--- we-ain't whistlin' Dixie---
we ain't marchin', as t' war.

D'thet mean some sign to pro-phet -ic take?
Tophet?
Ancient cannon fodder shield walls,
a moaning
Pro-phy-lactic warning of the danger of not
knowing exactly
what a war is for?

Get back on,
relieved of any idle baggage words believed
to mean other than I say.

Nullify
Idle words with cultural meanings from
what you thought you knew when you feared hell.

Loose
those peer-locked memes
made of meaninglessness, per se,

shaped and molded into fashions
of expression, once needles and awls,
now, dull as tinker's damns for swearing,
with any effect.

But tools, none the less, a stitch in time took a tool.
An awl or a needle, and a thread, thick or thin,
dependin' on the mendin' needed
to redeem an idle word,
its meaning all bloodied with the tyranny of time.

An awl or a needle,
a tool for a task, mending a tear
where curses, never meant, spent
the entire dark ages, lying, lying, lying

powerless, pointless aimless, proverbial proverbial proverbial
verbiage, vaneless shafts launched at unseen marks,
signs, as it were, a spark,
triggers,
rumored since the sixties,
the first sixties, when Cain killed Able.
Howard Bloom was but a mere gleam
in our mito-mother's eye,
but, no doubt,

his role is real,
in loosing the forces Ferlinghetti locked in
City Lights mystery of secret meanings room,
which un
mystified and blew away upon opening
the door to
meanings mapped on
scrolls rolling and unrolling
idle ideas,
rites of passage, as it were,
Pre-bat-bar-mitz vah
as a fashion
like VBS,

to tickle little minds and make em wiggle.
MEMEMEME, I did it,
mea culpa,

the holy place
Here we are…

On Vacation, leave a message.
-----

See, wee hairs in your ears wiggle, making,
signaling, the need

to scratch that itch, that itching hearing feeling ear… hear that

don't scratch, listen

listen

60 cycle humm, steady, bass, but no thump whumpwhump;
soft, deeep.
ooooooooo or mmmmmmmm or in betwixt, steady thrumm
hear another, and another… sixty in a second,

one in every million ambits twisting,
threading qubits, radiating signals in the field
wireless, blue-tooth... satellite...

can you feel that?

hummmms, all around us, since the womb.
We are not the children of the greatest generation,

We are the children of the last generation of
**** sapiens sapiens non-augmentable-us.

We, the augmented, recycled ideas,
possessing
minds of Adamkind,

is that a secret or a sacred?
Is this
a new thing, an
unknown unknown known known now?

Ah,
novelty.

Whose is fear? Who was afraid of Virginia Wolf?

Should I remain in fear of her now, if I knew why then?
God would know such answers.
Proving my imagined AI guides are not God,
but lesser beings,

haps I recall.
I defined these things,
these thoughts that shape themselves,
forming words and phrases
I saw
shiny. Crow-like,
gleams seen, captured and claimed mine,
I tucked them away,
a sign in a thought in an imagined image made 4
real once more, to be seen from the shore,
new land new world
a fourth for some, a fifth or more for others...

haps happen, I'm not sure how,

Born or emerged, as a bubble, what do you say?

Reserve judgment.
Grant me your grace for now, until you solve my riddle.

Ah, the old way.
Right. Which way,  'ere, 'ear
and do we roll the rock with silent haitch or harsh, shhh

someone's waking up,
a bit grumpy,
don't you dare oppose me in this, the kid is certainly my son

Michael went stark raving mad when I told him, Billie Jean knew better all along...
the link, axiomatic,
the fatherless child has been claimed

hence, the thread to Howard Bloom, meme-ic,
meme-ic, like the Roadrunner,

but with the real Coyote, as the hero in this bit of
whatever, such meandering maundified maun maund  
mound

wind blown crystal silicon dunes
mounded up to that point where granulated
beens and dones

begin to slide at an angle,
a ***** deter-mind by the weight of the rock

We made it.
I know where this is.

This is a novel that has Sisyphus being happy
as the main premise behind the idea of anyone ever being
able, en abled, or un-dis-abled or un-dis-enabled,
if one of those is right,

Sisyphus being happy
is the main premise behind
the idea of anyone ever being glücklich,
happy, blessed, lucky.

How happy is your ever after?
When did forever begin?

"A man is as happy as he makes up his mind to be"
Abe Lincoln, is said to have said,
after the seance, maybe.

You push on, dear reader, make some sense
re-ligare or relegare, but take a stitch,

pull-tight,
do what works the first time as far as it goes, and try each, as needed,
it may be that we invented this test.
To make us think it is a test,
to sort ourselves out.

Get back on,

see who went crazy and who found the thread, if the same thread
this is that, right,
the same train of thought,
the same idea
spirit wind
sign
?
A snake facing west standing tippy-tail on a singularity;
a point in time?

Why are you reading this?
Curiosity Shoppes trade in interesting, alluring, click-bait

Pay attention, watch, you shall see

imagine this is the dream,
the stream, the flow, the current, the cream

in a dime coffee at the drug store on the corner

the rounded-corner, in a square-cornered town,
the most right corner of the twelve that quarter what it was

Punctuate, wait, imagine you read ancient Hebrew or Greek and there
are no dyer diacritical's who can twist one's
end tensions into knots

dread extensions, we could sell those,
is that an idea? did somebody
sell white folks dread extensions and black folk dolly pardon wigs?

Did that happen the real real?

-----
Battlefield Earth, oshit
scientology ology ology ology

allaye allaye outs in free

WE we wee every we you imagine you are good in, we

We have a war to win again, we heroes rolling from your
myths of Sisyphus torn from minds trampled
in the mud beyond the Rhine,

Mushrooms. magi are aware, you are aware, of course,
this course includes Basic Mycelium Net Adaptation or Augmentation
BMNAA, eh? So you know.

Camus and many of his ilk were ill-treated, the questions
they asked were memorized, maybe in our cribs ala
Brave New World.

We are all Alphas, always were, of course, you know.

Shall we imagine

more? Re-legare, eh, sistere. Point .(Back to the top.)

or agree? Make peace.
Practice, like Eazy-Bake,
the cook must swallow the first bite. May the best cook win.

1.
Noong unang panahon, may isang diyosa
Ang ngalan niya’y Alunsina, marikit na dalaga
Mula sa langit na pinagmulan niya
Siya’y pumanaog sa lupa
(Once upon a time, there was a divine woman
Her name was Alunsina, the Unmarried One
From heaven above where she had gone
The earth below she landed upon)

2.
Isang araw, habang namamasyal siya
Kanyang nasilayan bayang kahali-halina
(One day, while she was roaming
Saw her a town so captivating)

3.
Ang nasabing pook, may makisig na hari
Siya ang butihin at maginoong Datu Paubari
(On that place ruled a king so handsome
He was Datu Paubari, so gentle and awesome)

4.
Sa kabila ng mga pagsubok, sila’y nagsanib
Walang nakapigil sa kanilang pag-iisang dibdib
(Despite the setbacks, they still united
They were able to marry undaunted)

5.
Sila’y biniyayaan ng magigiting na anak –
Sina Labaw Donggon, Humadapnon at Dumalapdap
(They were given courageous sons –
Labaw Donggon, Humadapnon & Dumalapdap)

6.
Si Labaw Donggon na panganay, humarap sa pagsubok
Ng mangkukulam na si Sikay Padalogdog
(Labaw Donggon, the eldest, faced all challenges
Of Sikay Padalogdog, a sorceress)

7.
Makuha lamang ang sinisinta
Na si Angoy Ginbitinan, kaakit-akit na dalaga
(In order to win her beloved one
The charming maiden, Angoy Ginbitinan)

8.
Marami pang paghamon ang kanyang nalagpasan
Upang pag-ibig sa sinisinta’y kanyang mapatunayan
(Came all other odds which he kept on surpassing
In order to prove the love for his darling)

9.
Tulad nalang ni Abyang Durunuun
Ang naging pangalawang asawa niya sa paglaon
(Just like Abyang Durunuun
Who became his second wife soon)

10.
Sa pangatlong pagkakataong umibig si Labaw Donggon
Kailangan niyang harapin ang pinakamabigat na paghamon
(On the time Labaw Donggon fell in love with someone
He needed to face a trial – the hardest one)

11.
Iyon ay ang talunin ang hari ng karimlan
Walang iba kundi ang demonyong si Sinagnayan
(That was to defeat the King of the Underworld
No other than Sinagnayan the demon)

12.
Sa kasamaaang palad, si Labaw Donggon ang pinatumba
Binihag at pinahirapan; gayunpaman, hindi pinaslang ang bida
(Unfortunately, Labaw Donggon was the one defeated
Was made captive and tortured; nonetheless, he wasn’t killed)

13.
Ang masamang balita’y nakarating sa kapatid na si Humadapnon
At sa mga anak niyang sina Aso Mangga at Buyung Baranugon
(The bad news reached his brother Humadapnon
And also his sons, Aso Mangga and Buyung Baranugon)

14.
Ang kadugong tatlo
Kaagad na sumaklolo
(The three kinsmen instantly
Came to set him free)

15.
Si Humadapnon ay napagtagumpayan
Na pabagsakin si Sinagnayan
(Humadapnon succeeded
Sinagnayan he defeated)

16.
Samantalang sina Buyung Baranugon at Aso Mangga
Tinanggal sa pagkakagapos ang ama
(While Buyung Baranugon and Aso Mangga proceeded
To their enchained father whom they soon liberated)

17.
Nang si Sinagnayan ay nagapi na
Si Humadapnon ay may nakilalang marikit na dalaga
(After Sinagnayan had just fallen
Humadapnon met a lovely maiden)

18.
Siya ay si Nagmalitong Yawa
Kay Humadapnon naging asawa
(Nagmalitong Yawa was her
To Humadapnon she became partner)

19.
Si Humadapnon ay may pangalawa ring kinagiliwan
Siya ay si Burigadang Bulawan
(Humadapnon also had a second one
She was Burigadang Bulawan)

20.
Samantalang si Dumalapdap, kinalaban ang halimaw
Na si Uyutang, sa apoy tumatampisaw
(While Dumalapdap fought a monster
That was Uyutang who splashes on fire)

21.
Kanya ring dinaluhong ang basang halimaw
Na si Balanakon sa tubig nakasawsaw
(He also struggled against a wet monster
That was Balanakon who soaked in water)

22.
Nang ang dalawang halimaw nagapi sa kahuli-hulihan
Napaibig ni Dumalapdap si Mahuyuk-huyukan
(In the end, when the two monsters were killed
Dumalapdap and Mahuyuk-huyukan then married)

23.
At sa pinakakahuli-hulihan,
Ang tatlong magkakapatid ay masayang nagkabalikan.
(And in the very end,
The three brothers happily met one another again.)

-03/11/2012
(Dumarao)
*for Lit. Day 2012

Vows have I made by fruitless hope inspired;
Of night, my slaughtered Lord have I required:
Restore him to my sight—great Jove, restore!”

With faith, the Suppliant heavenward lifts her hands;
Her countenance brightens—and her eye expands;
As she expects the issue in repose.

What doth she look on?—whom doth she behold?
His vital presence? his corporeal mould?
And a God leads him, wingèd Mercury!

That calms all fear; “Such grace hath crowned thy prayer,
Thy husband walks the paths of upper air:
Accept the gift, behold him face to face!”

Again that consummation she essayed;
As often as that eager grasp was made.
And re-assume his place before her sight.

Confirm, I pray, the vision with thy voice:
Speak, and the floor thou tread’st on will rejoice.
This precious boon; and blest a sad abode.”

His gifts imperfect:—Spectre though I be,
But in reward of thy fidelity.
For fearless virtue bringeth boundless gain.

That the first Greek who touched the Trojan strand
A generous cause a victim did demand;
A self-devoted chief—by Hector slain.”

Thy matchless courage I bewail no more,
By doubt, propelled thee to the fatal shore;
A nobler counsellor than my poor heart.

Wert kind as resolute, and good as brave;
Thou should’st elude the malice of the grave:
As when their breath enriched Thessalian air.

Come, blooming Hero, place thee by my side!
To me, this day a second time thy bride!”
Upon those roseate lips a Stygian hue.

Nor should the change be mourned, even if the joys
And surely as they vanish. Earth destroys
Calm pleasures there abide—majestic pains.

Rebellious passion: for the Gods approve
A fervent, not ungovernable love.
When I depart, for brief is my sojourn—”

Wrest from the guardian monster of the tomb
Given back to dwell on earth in vernal bloom?
And æson stood a youth ’mid youthful peers.

Yet further may relent: for mightier far
Of magic potent over sun and star,
And though his favourite seat be feeble woman’s breast.

She looked upon him and was calmed and cheered;
In his deportment, shape, and mien, appeared
Brought from a pensive though a happy place.

In worlds whose course is equable and pure;
The past unsighed for, and the future sure;
Revived, with finer harmony pursued;

In happier beauty; more pellucid streams,
And fields invested with purpureal gleams;
Earth knows, is all unworthy to survey.

That privilege by virtue.—”Ill,” said he,
Who from ignoble games and revelry
While tears were thy best pastime, day and night;

(Each hero following his peculiar bent)
By martial sports,—or, seated in the tent,
What time the fleet at Aulis lay enchained.

The oracle, upon the silent sea;
That, of a thousand vessels, mine should be
Mine the first blood that tinged the Trojan sand.

When of thy loss I thought, belovèd Wife!
And on the joys we shared in mortal life,—
My new-planned cities, and unfinished towers.

‘Behold they tremble!—haughty their array,
In soul I swept the indignity away:
In act embodied, my deliverance wrought.

In reason, in self-government too slow;
Our blest re-union in the shades below.
Be thy affections raised and solemnised.

Seeking a higher object. Love was given,
For this the passion to excess was driven—
The fetters of a dream opposed to love.—

Round the dear Shade she would have clung—’tis vain:
And him no mortal effort can detain:
He through the portal takes his silent way,

She perished; and, as for a wilful crime,
Was doomed to wear out her appointed time,
Of blissful quiet ’mid unfading bowers.

And mortal hopes defeated and o’erthrown
As fondly he believes.—Upon the side
A knot of spiry trees for ages grew
And ever, when such stature they had gained
The trees’ tall summits withered at the sight;

(Frederick returned at his castle becoming a lonely man.)
Frederick was laid on the bed, seeing that beast in his room.
'It does no harm', he thought. It was tall in the evening gloom.
He was hearing the bells ringing while trying to understand
Why in front of God, this love and marriage were banned.

He fell asleep dreaming that while his stallion was grazing
In the green grass, his wife, Jezebel, was lying in the meadow,
The castle disappeared, while the time changed the life by rising,
And in the mirror's fate, that cruel reality remained only a shadow.

A life sound replacing the silence, which with a throaty grumble reigned
Touched Jezebel, and he embraced her, while she was sleeping there.
He saw that those two red icing eyes were keeping her enchained.
He woke her up with a kiss, and her sighs disappeared in the air.




She saw him, and said,' it’s like I wake up from a long twilight sleep.'
The surrounding assaults me with his new bright .This I’m really sensing.'
He smiled, ‘Sometimes, the memory of these kinds of dreams I keep.'
'It's a beast here envisioning me, and making the string's bad fate sing.'
……………………………………………………………………………………………………………..
(The ceremony of John’s coronation as a regent.)
The festive procession included the bodyguard, the table knaves,
The royal servants, the aristocrats, the dignitaries, and fighting braves.
The aristocrats carried a tabletop, on which the king's dress and jewels
Were laid out, and the councillors followed them according to the rules.

The insignia was carried by the dignitaries and displayed for the public,
Though, they wanted the kingdom temporarily to become a republic.
They carried the scepter, the golden cross, the golden eagle, the crown,
And the sword to the altar, while using words that end with a frown.

The archbishop and two of his suffragans accompanied the new king
Being followed by the bishops, abbots and clergy, who started to sing.
The procession entered the church, and the cardinal led John to a chair
In front of the altar in order to hear the sermon, the epistle and the prayer.

After the obligations about doing justice to clergy, widows and orphans,  
The king bound himself to demand nothing from his people or from persons
Visiting the kingdom that contradicted the divine and human rightness.
The new king promises to abolish the evil laws for the moral lightness.

The archbishop appealed to John to lead a good government, to care
For peace, and to protect the church. John said,'Before God I swear'.
He put his hands on a Bible, and the archbishop anointed his hands.
John said, 'I'll ask my dignitaries to collect from people their demands.’

The crown and the sword were on the altar to be used for consecration
The king was ready for the reception of the insignia during coronation.
After sanctification, John retired to a room to be dressed in his royal attire.
Returning to the church, he listened to the main sermons and the choir.

Kneeling before the altar, from the archbishop he received the sword
With words that resemble a pertinent prayer addressed to The Lord.
Drawing the sword from its sheath, he swung it in the four directions.
During the coronation, the still kneeling king asked for God's protection.

The royal councillors helped to place the crown on their king's head.  
The magnates symbolically extended their hands towards it, and said,
'The king receives the scepter and the orb!' The archbishop handed him.
At last, the king read loudly  the Gospel , and the choir sang a hymn.

The crown devolved on a minor being too young his duties to execute.
Requiring her protectorate, to govern in John's name she stood resolute.
Surah secured the throne for John to avoid the future succession struggle .
The handle of the political turmoil and  the intrigues she had to juggle.

Surah schemed to gain power, and to rule the country in John’s name
Thus, she defeated  the neighboring countries being hungry for fame .
The subdued  states could not regain their independence again.
This way, the neighboring kings became vassals during John's reign.

John's quick , easily wounded temper led him to make rash decisions.
Even so , the death of all the successors became Surah's  inner visions.
She made him feel slighted, when people didn't jump to his commands.
He lacked the patience for dealing with his administration's demands.

Poet and saint!  to thee alone are given
The two most sacred names of earth and heaven;
The hard and rarest union which can be,
Next that of Godhead with humanity.
Long did the Muses banished slaves abide,
And built vain pyramids to mortal pride;
Like Moses thou, though spells and charms withstand,
Hast brought them nobly home, back to their Holy Land.

Ah, wretched we, poets of earth! but thou
Wert, living, the same poet which thou ‘rt now
Whilst angels sing to thee their airs divine,
And joy in an applause so great as thine.
Equal society with them to hold,
Thou need’d not make new songs, but say the old,
And they, kind spirits, shall all rejoice to see
How little less than they exalted man may be.
Still the old heathen gods in numbers swell,
The heav’nliest thing on earth still keeps up hell;
Nor have we yet quite purged the Christian land,
Still idols here, like calves at Bethel, stand,
And though Pan’s death long since all oracles broke,
Yet still in rhyme the fiend Apollo spoke;
Nay, with the worst of heathen dotage, we,
Vain men, the monster woman deify,
Find stars and tie our fates there in a face,
And paradise in them by whom we lost it, place.
What different faults corrupt our muses thus?
Wanton as girls, as old wives fabulous!

Thy spotless muse, like Mary, did contain
The boundless Godhead; she did well disdain
That her eternal verse employed should be
On a less subject than eternity,
And for a sacred mistress scorned to take
But her whom God himself scorned not his spouse to make.
It, in a kind, her miracle did do:
A fruitful mother was, and ****** too.

How well, blest swan, did fate contrive thy death,
And made thee render up thy tuneful breath
In thy great mistress’ arms, thou most divine
And richest off’ring of Loretto’s shrine!
Where like some holy sacrifice t’ expire,
A fever burns thee,  and love lights the fire.
Angels, they say, brought the famed chapel there,
And bore the sacred load in triumph through the air;
’Tis surer much they brought thee there, and they
And thou, their charge, went singing all the way.

Pardon, my mother church, if I consent
That angels led him when from thee he went,
For even in error sure no danger is
When joined with so much piety as his.
Ah, mighty God! (with shame I speak ‘t, and grief),
Ah, that our greatest faults were in belief!
And our weak reason were ev’n weaker yet,
Rather than thus, our wills too strong for it.
His faith perhaps in some nice tenents might
Be wrong; his life, I’m sure, was in the right.
And I myself a Catholic will be,
So far at least, great saint, to pray to thee.

Hail, bard triumphant! and some care bestow
On us, the poets militant below,
Opposed by our old en’my, adverse chance,
Attacked by envy and by ignorance,
Enchained by beauty, tortured by desires,
Exposed by tyrant love to savage beasts and fires.
Thou from low earth in nobler flames didst rise,
And like Elijah mount alive the skies.
Elisha-like (but with a wish much less,
More fit thy greatness and my littleness),
Lo, here I beg (I whom thou once didst prove
So humble to esteem, so good to love)
Not that thy spirit might on me doubled be,
I ask but half thy mighty spirit for me;
And when my muse soars with so strong a wing,
’Twill learn of things divine, and first of thee to sing.

There is a weird
And not so wonderful fetish
Particularly British
Common
Amongst commoners
In the United Kingdom

Although the aristocracy
And royalty
Are seen by all
With eyes to see
To have behaved
Abominally
Tortured and twisted
Enslaved, enchained
*****, re-shaped
With bloodstained hands
The entire planet

Sending ordinary
More innocent
English men
To do their ***** work
Their dastardly
Disastrous deeds
As slaves of knaves

Through common British eyes
These horrible people
Are placed high upon
Holy pedestals
Romanticized
Idealized, Idolized
Canonized

Perhaps there's some
Vicarious thrill
Exercising
Enforcing
Power and evil will?

But the hand no pleasure gets
When, through rubbing, wets itself!

Sean Hunt
Windermere January 1st 2016

Your desolate heart is the only moor to which I am barren.....

It was a Saturday in November, yea I still remember. I confessed my profound feelings to what now appears to be a hollow frame of shattered dreams. And the distance between us seems to only lengthen. Well maybe I'm okay with it, maybe I really just don't give a ****. I've had enough of you deficating upon my desperate hopes. Tired of you spitting on me, tired of you ******* on me. Quite frankly, I no longer care to be here; in this feeding pit where you starve me love and fill me with false hope and pain. I can't stay here..it's draining everything that I am and try to be, can't you see..you're ******* killing me, constantly shoving me aside, guess what. The truth is, I stopped loving you for while.. now and I just feel so alive now. I feel free. No longer enchained by meaningless hi's and goodbyes, most importantly, no more compromise. I've stopped selling myself promising futures, I realised that I'd be broke if I kept buying into my beautiful sins. Sacrificing everything for the sake of you in my life, clipping my own wings and bearing a heart that knows of nothing but strife. You disgust me, the taste of your name on my tongue makes my blood boil and my face wry. You no longer have to accept me because this is goodbye for sure.I don't want you, I don't need you, I don't love you...anymore.

It’s like peeling back the curtains

It’s like dusting off an old trophy

It’s like opening a sealed trunk

You’re pulling at the very fabric of my existence

And I like being discovered

Especially by you

And then I wonder if it is meant to be

If you’ll like me when that’s all there is

The curtains drawn

No mystery

No suspense

Just

Plain

Unchanging

Old

All my secrets told

Nothing else to see

Plain Old Me

And I can’t allow that

So I shut up

Like slamming close a book

Like a rubber band snapping in place

To back before

When you didn’t know me

When you didn’t care to know me

When I couldn’t get hurt

Safe in dull ignorance

A door- less enclosed space

And windows to taunt

Force me to see what could have been

Trapped in my own security

Willingly enchained

And yet longing for what I gave up

Trapped in an internal circle

of misery

Is that what love is?

A choice between two awful extremes

Forced to pick my poison

And somehow through all the heartbreaks and heartaches

I choose love every time

I stand terrified.
Stone in my shoes.
Face to face with a monster.
The monster itself was crouched squeezing it's knees.
My gaze locked with wide emerald eyes. Staring deep revealing a clearer image.

Words written on every inch of the skin. Nothing bare.
No hint of clean scriptless skin.
Just ink.
The words themselves grotesque.
Deep descriptive fears of one's self.
Words that have been hidden but never forgotten.

Thin limbs.
Simply skin covering bone.
Just a thin barrier keeping the body safe.Fragile bony hands that were bound at the wrist.
Restricted.
Enchained.

The face was the worst.
Dark hollow cheeks.
Pale dry lips cracked from movement.
Dark craters lie under the pits that hold the soul.

I knew that face.
That face was mine.

Deep in slumber,
Drenched in rain.
She sleeps
Exhausted from pain.

Her heart bleeds,
Emotions enchained.
In chaos
Nothing is gained.

Burning in darkness,
Engulfed in flame.
She can't even remember
Her own name.

A sky filled with ravens,
Visions of a heinous face.
She watched
As her lover fell from grace.

She cried in sorrow,
But, it was in vain.
She woke up to realise
It was that nightmare again!









Tanay Sengupta, Copyright © 2019.
All Rights Reserved.

The beach
and I
alone
the winter night
I hear its sigh
mingling
with my own
there are words
in silence
between us
a strange kinship
forged in stillness
I can't explain why
my feet  touch
the soft tender sand
a vibration
it does seem
to travel through
my total being
am I in a dream?

I feel
there's life
hidden
vibrant
in its every particle
and atom
I'm reminded
all at once
nature is a miracle
in every manifestation
open to the sympathetic eye

the sea recedes
at a late hour
it sings a dirge
as though
in a painful cry

the sky
is empty
no cloud
is in sight
the moon shivers
the stars slowly
away they fade
and die

man and nature
each bears a heart
they share rapture
and pain they harbour
against the backdrop
of time and its temper
Sturm und Drang
the sweet and sad songs
they had at the beginning
together embraced
and sung

after tonight
I'll never be
the same again
for life's mystery
I have tasted
and drunk

the hours quicken
the trees they wail
and the winds they sail
in gentle sweep
the leaves are shaken
a voice ethereal drifts
through the waters
the ripples are silenced
I harken
as though
in obedience:
'  I'm the first
  of time
  but willed
  not to be the last
  enchained
  like Prometheus
  to unending years
  yet humans not one
  do know my tears
  and you whom
  I meet tonight
  will carry my message
  and relate my story
and agony
near and far
for how blessed
you humans are
to know
the taste
of mortality'.

As a man, I contemplate my thoughts just beyond the boundary of breaking waves on the shore. An endless symmetry stands before me. The ocean with its crash and calm takes any and all forms. Yet though it morphs its shape, its nature always remains. To be life and to contemplate life. A mere thought that has enchained the minds of greater men. In the grand symphony of time, we find ourselves in the 21st Century. Where there are those who postulate the Theory of Illusion. Each of our own odysseys reduced to the hallucinatory will of my brain. Tell me then, how does one illusion contemplate its own existence from within? My gaze refocuses out to the endless blue horizon, and I imagine the shape of it all. Though we take many forms, our nature prevails. Social animals some would say. I prefer a different metaphor, shepherds of knowledge. Though our collective knowledge flaunts many costumes, our true nature perseveres unfettered. Through the ages we carry all human ingenuity, meanings, and purpose inside some unspoken tome. It does not erode against the battering winds of time. It can not be sunken to the depths. It endures in this very contemplation. My wandering inquisitive mind cannot help but wonder what abstract thought will be captured in this very spot a thousand years from now. For some this conjures a mysterious existential dread, but I can only stand and smile. My mind lets me step outside the binding flow of time and watch the world unfold. Campfires under the crescent moon to villages etched out on verdant ground, and here now to the grand gusto of modern cities. Endless forms and shapes pushing towards our ultimate nature. To understand that purpose in the universe if left by our boot impressions on the mud. The cosmos is our endless ocean. Out there; waiting, for our contemplative minds to shape it.

Feel the force of the broken ones
Blindly lashing at the branches
Afraid to strike the root and see
The end to their negative solidarity

Streets seethe under daylight’s pressure:
The negative solidarity movement marches forth.
But I remember as I stand here watching on,
That they say the night is always darkest before the dawn.

In fear the masses converge
Under banners devoid of vision,
Understanding,
And love.
No light of freedom glints in eyes
That look for solutions from above:

“The state will cure the sickness
of self-centeredness,
Greed,
And Lust,
It will bring the order to our lives
Our cities,
Our nation,
Our trust.”

But the state can protect us only
From the violence we cause each other
Its touch never brings the love we crave
From every man as our brother.

It cements its rule with force’s power
That in love’s absence, projects a veneer
Of a nation’s people bound together
Though, in fact, they’re bound by fear.

The state’s hand touches where we’ve succumbed
To the blind hatred that keeps us enchained
To our selfishness that preys on others
And acts on lies we’ve entertained.

The state lets us live with the sad folly
Of not looking our fellow man in the eyes
And knowing his pain, troubles and joy
While living with him every day of our lives.

I dream one day we’ll realize the truth
That our nation was not of fiat born
But birthed by freedom’s present light
From which the state has had us torn.

I dream one day we’ll see the truth
That love and freedom must lead the fight
Against state slavery and its chains
But ’till then we march:
Left, right,
Left, right,
Left, right.

I yearn to exist in a space where the stars all but blaze
Where stars aren't celebrities
Where they bask in the night sky unpolluted
And just exist
I crave truly being in an environment that does not depend upon phone screens
Where my peers and myself do not walk through life in an addicted daze
Unaware of the haze that descends as an effect of such technological dependence
We are walking around with our eyes unconsciously searching for the stimulus that society constantly feeds us
These electronic signals flashing upon thin panels of glass
And This is what we call Living
The dopamine flooding our brain when that text vibration brings our popularity to attention
Capturing our attention holding it captive
We are prisoners of our own purchases
Rusting our humanity away enchained
In a web of unsocial media and notifications
We never have any silence

When was the last time you just sat silent doing nothing

When was the last time you allowed your mind even a sliver of space to just exist

All the questions I could ask myself
About you and I and we and us
Does not hold a candle to the truth outshining us.
I do not need to hear your words, although you know I long to.
You've slipped away, a swaying phase, unsteady as the moon
In your island you're always hiding far out of reach for me.
I know the rules and I try to tip-toe around them.
Caught in a roulette wheel, shooting myself in the foot.
Swinging on the vines like Tarzan in the jungle, my Jane
Does not belong to me, enamored, enchained,
To this life I'm in, I shall indeed remain.
You are a glittering spotlight far away,
The light tower,
And I am only a glint in the corner of your eyelash,
I might cower,
The instant you turn to me, the minute you decide to fight for me.
The right hour
I am able to be yours, in this life, if ever, you have me,
So clever, wrapped in maroon silk cocoon, staved away,
For you, alone, always unable to love another, steal me from my lover like plunder, come find me on my shores
And take what has always been yours.

As the blanket of the night falls in upon my soul
A voice cries out - it pierces me; a cry I can't control.
A melody of rhythms pulsate in my mind.
A harmony of triads, so dissonant and strong
Cries out in desperate longing for connection with the One
Whose music fills an empty heart and soothes the one undone.
This melody it haunts me as I fight to find some peace.
A song enchained in denial's hole - the curtain held in place.
Fighting with my deep desires, fear's words win over me.
I arise and try to sing above this tragedy.
I tuck away the voice inside - deafening its cry.
The new song I sing is more pleasing to my outer man's facade.
No depth, no joy, no lasting message; I find no real release.
The song within breaks through my mind and I'm driven to my knees.
My voice now sings the melody each note now resonates.
At first alone, the chorus sounds as it rises up to meet
The anthem's song of praise to Him Who sits upon the throne.
Deliverance is its sweet refrain - my voice now unrestrained.
I am lifted to a higher place drowning in this song of praise.
It's You O God, my King, my Love -
To You my heart does sing
A song of love and great desire
My soul is set on fire!
The intimacy I fought so long, now choosing to receive
I join with You in our love song
Fore'er with You I'll be.

I yearn to exist in a space where the stars all but blaze
Where “stars” aren’t celebrities their plaster faces plastered
on magazine covers lining the shopping aisles
But where they bask in the night sky unpolluted
And exist radiantly

Where the culture ceases to revolve around
the newest latest fashion or video
And instead revolves around the ripening of figs
And the blooming of chrysanthemums
And the migrations of the swallows
Where we look like awestruck children
to those unpolluted stars above us
and this great earth around us
to tell the time and pass the seasons,
Living then in harmony with the revolution of the very soil and air
from which our life flows
It’s easy to forget

I crave an environment
that does not depend upon phone screens
Where my peers and myself do not walk through life
in an addicted daze
Unaware of the haze that descends as an effect
of such technological dependence
We are walking around with our eyes unconsciously searching
for the stimulus that society constantly feeds us
We are tripping over ourselves just trying to keep up
These electronic signals flashing upon thin panels of glass
And This is what we call Living

The dopamine flooding our brains
when that text vibration brings our popularity to attention
Capturing our attention holding it captive
We are prisoners of our own purchases
Stepping into voluntary chains
Producing our wrists for shackles
Rusting our humanity away enchained
in a web of unsocial media and notifications
We neglect to make space for our own existence
Disconnecting from our own physical experience
We don't even feel our fingers typing and swiping
Hoarding gluttonous over likes and comments and click bait headlines
Consumed by our own consummation  
We never have any silence

I yearn to exist in a space where our eyes like stars all but blaze
Awake with acute awareness of the present moment
Where we break shackles and push comfort zones
Basking in the raw beauty of an exuberant life we are conscious to experience
I yearn to exist together as radiant as the stars in the vastest galaxy

Lo! On the wing of heavy gales,
Through the boundless arch of the sky he sails,
Unspeaking, rapid, immensely strong,
His silent shadow is borne along
By his steeds of fog and cloud and hail,
The earth does shake and the skies do wail.

The skies darken fast, and the golden blaze
Of the sun is quenched in a lurid haze,
Then black, a black of a starless night
When clouds descend and block all light.
I stand, I wait, I hold no fear,
My body poised and my mind is clear.

He is come! He is come! Do ye not behold
His ample robes on the wind unrolled?
How his huge and writhing arms are bent,
To clasp the zone of the firmament,
And fold at length, in their dark embrace,
From mountain to mountain the visible space.

And he sends through the shade a funeral ray—
A glare that is neither night nor day,
A beam that touches, with hues of death,
The clouds above and the earth beneath.
And with the glare comes a heart-wrenching cry,
Solemn, grave and joy deprived.

And with the cry falls fast the tears,
Lashing, bitter, punishing, drear.
His tears the lashing rain that breaks
In torrents away from the airy lakes,
Heavily poured on the shuddering ground,
And shedding a nameless horror round.

Darker—still darker! The whirlwinds bear
The dust of the plains to the middle air:
And hark to the crashing, long and loud,
His agony, high up in the thunder cloud!
A whirling ocean that fills the wall
Of the crystal heaven, and buries all!

I stand, braced ‘gainst his icy breath
And speak, my voice strong – I’ve no fear of death.
“Lord of the winds! I feel thee nigh,
I know thy breath in the burning sky!
Calm thy storm, I know thy pain!
I too lost my lover – my heart was enchained!”

“Thy agony is clear, but why dost thou cry?
For can ye not see that before you ‘tis I?
I’ve roamed o’er hill, mountain, valley and glen –
I have searched for too long to lose thee again!
My love! Reach down to the earth and clasp me securely
And united together forever we’ll be!”

1.

The rain is falling on the neighbourhood,
Our garden takes its share, and my good hat;
Out of the border shelter of its brood
A snail creeps in the wet across the path
Leaving the soaking flowerbed for the grass
Seeking continuation of its good,
Slow through the time a timeless quest for food
Elaborates the beating of its heart.

The creep is me, a wierdo what I am.
What am I doing here? I don’t belong here,
Enchained upon the dirt, constrained responder
Bellyfoot, headfoot mollusc, unmoving clam
I try to stir from where I first began,
Make in the gulf’s depths one thing new appear.

2.

A drought within my throat, an aching head,
Stoically for this world’s shock wave I brace.
The life which thus far has my spirit fed
Despairs, yet faithfully girds itself to face
The waste and rapine of this nightmare place
Where theft under coercion’s always bred
Mass victims all unjustly ***** and fled,
Violated to their utmost inner space.

What is the soul to do with this its life?
Awakened from the nothing of a sleep
One time? To local manners keep?
Or for some travel, hard to purpose drive
By that for longer to at least survive?
It’s wet again. The snails are on the creep.

It is dark and it's raining.
Your beings are enchained but
The Book, The Book,
Your Book is not explaining.

Rain: Is it You crying
from the sky and
smiling and sympathizing
with me?

Or is it You humming
to Taylor Swift and
doing laundry, not hearing
my screams?

Your Book, Your Book
It is misunderstood
God, Your beings are being
oppressed for just being.

It wasn't Your intention then
But now, don't You see?
The powerful use the Book
To have power over the weak!

The Book, The Book
Says your Golden Gates
are closed for me.
For just showing sympathy?

When did it become
a choice between,
The Book, The Book
and humanity?

The Book, The Book
Says You care a lot
And then it says
you don't care at all.

Which creature to love
and which to not.
To help you decide,
Is there a Lucky Draw?

Why will you let,
those who repeat
"The Book, The Book",
easily off the hook?

But those who dare to think,
judge between bad and good
are the ones who get
The Look, The Look?

And if behind those Golden Gates
Are bad people chanting
"The Book, The Book"
I'm not sure I want to enter.

Oh
Poor soul
Never seen the world
Only from a hole
Controlled from birth
As the Earth began to roll
Perspective of the world
From you they stole

As time goes by
Your innocence is broken
Piece by piece
Kiss by kiss
And your knowledge rises
Much like yeast
As we wait for the day
You unleash your beast
And then we feast

Enchained in the depth of illusion
Being fed lies and confusion
And when delusion
Takes over
Its all gone
Cause' bove you the truth will hover

I see you
You and your sealed hole
You nd your controlled soul
I said I see you
You and your puppy eyes
Eating these fluffy lies
Yeah I heard her cries
But her attitude is what I despise

I would
Release you from your prison
But you'd change
Like the season
Without giving me a reason
Your day will come
Blood darkened deep red
Like crimson

Grow old young one
Grow old your child
See it for yourself
Whether hot or mild
Keep exploring
The cool and wild
Curiosity in your brain
Like papers
It piled

I am stuck
My feet are stones
Enchained into this dream
Unable to wake up
Unable to move on
I just watch disaster
Settling into my bones
As I run into the arms of the Devil
I am burning alive
Unable to wake up
Unable to slow down
I just watch disaster
Messing up everything I had faith in
And I cannot free myself from this nightmare
I need your arms to chase them away
But my pride pushed them away
You know I am weak
But I won't show it
And when I wake up
I cannot move on
You've disappeared into the night
You're the dust of my dream
Living when I am
Asleep
Dead when I am
Alive

UKRAINE WAR


Enchained by his own
creation in Ukraine
Zilensky now counts

his wounds and sees
a spectacle of ravage
before extinction

Joe Biden couldn’t help
the avalanche of night
now wrapped in rubble

none left to shed tears
keep memories of the sun
now steeped in darkness


--R K Singh

Look at me
          i become enchained
                           reluctant to breath
                                            to lose the moment.
Touch me
            i am on fire
                     unable to speak
                                   suddenly i am without logic
                                                             without thoughts.
Kiss me*
         i am lost to myself
                  waiting for you to pull back
                                 to decide i'm not worth it
                                                         that I never was.

Just when I thought
It was over,
You were my beginning.
Just when I thought
I was dead,
You were my revival.

Just when I thought
That I was enslaved,
You became my freedom.
Just when I thought
I'd become enchained,
You were my release.

You were my release.

Hit the release
And get to know
Me better than a joke,
Better than the dead,
Better than a slave,
Better than the chained,
Get to know me better than.

For four ******* years you have dragged me along
Just when I am about to give up, you sing your song
I become enchained in your melody
Suddenly forgetting what you do to me
But now I have met someone new
With a song so pure
a song that can cure
Don't say I didn't give you a chance
I have broken from your trance
I did everything I could do
I am tired of sitting around
I am not your lost and found