"engages" poems
The sky above me, closed in as the dark, ominous yet fascinating rainclouds have driven near, gathering together in a council.
As it begins to drizzle, soft, warm and little raindrops, fall in
line, gently, carelessly hitting the earth, moistening it in their line.
Once in a while, as the rain gains its strengh, hitting the ground below with more speed and roughlessness in their action,
Rays of the purest light, sent by the sun as it shines above the darkening sky, a sensation for ones optic nerv, a sensation for the eye,
make it through and let this scene shine further more.
Graceful drops, carrried and distorted by the majestic wind,
Create a lovely melody on my window, as they one by one fly into it.
Now as the soil is fertilised, life will surely grow from the sunlight.
Alike the raindrops are carried by the wind, my mind engages with this scene, lets me fall in love with this beautiful earth.
A little rain shall not be the cause of sadness, as it truly is a reminder of the moments of love wich it makes easier to determine.
So I keep my gaze out of the window and enjoy the weather
Until then, the sky clears up and the sun shines again.
~ Umi
Feb 23, 2018
Feb 23, 2018 at 5:19 PM UTC
When a handsome, charming teenager named Noah (Ryan Guzman) moves in next door
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, newly separated high-school teacher Claire Peterson (Jennifer Lopez) encourages his friendship and engages in a little bit of harmless (or so she thinks) flirtation. Although Noah spends much of the time hanging out with Claire's son, the teen's attraction to her is palpable. One night, Claire gives in to temptation and lets Noah ****** her, but when she tries to end the relationship, he turns violent.
Jan 30, 2015
Jan 30, 2015 at 1:45 PM UTC
Whereabout of the heart, where might it be ?
When fury is a feeling which engages your senses, your mind and your soul in a raging outburst of negativity expressed in adrenaline,
Everything seems to be one sided, a loop which only fuels your anger with thoughts of unpleasant, disturbing annoyances, making it harder
Harder to resist, until alike a super nova, you explode in a viscious rampage with knows no escape, so, where is the heart ? Where is it?
A tantrum might be encouraged to grow in size if it's revenge you seek, desire, want to live for to make it expire, with violent passion,
Mercy or compassion, forgiveness and simpathy may be forgotten, within the depths of your burning soul, lit ablaze solely by hatred,
You may lose your mind, oh beauty of a living existence, becoming alike a lily of murderous intent, spiteful, yet elegant and wonderful,
A shivering star, ready to take its opponent down with itself while destroying what used to be so precious, unique and simply sweet,
Blemishing the unconscious without thinking of patience or the chance to calm this nuclear meltdown, unfolding in tragedy for us,
The pure light of your praying palms might help in this regard,
Because his remembrance is what makes furious hearts become calm.
~ Umi
Apr 23, 2018
Apr 23, 2018 at 6:33 PM UTC
Two fine films: The Lost City and Blood Diamond.
I joined Blood Diamond during a village massacre
and said to my wife A gun in every home.
Those devils would think twice
before razing the village and seizing the boys.
A well-regulated militia.
The local militia the most interesting moment
in a strong film with motive (economic, emotional), action (chases,
fights) and a **** sexless love story.
Use of violence by the local militia for a limited purpose: protect the
community, the young
from the janjaweed. The crop from the ****
Limited scope and defensive posture
but armed and coordinated, cooperative, the men (and the women)
side by side.
Warriors at the gate, you will not run, you will not bargain.
Just violence = limited scope, defensive posture.
Great music. Cuba, Africa.
The Lost City, when the communists tell the club owner under threat
of violence
No saxophones in the band. The saxophone!
Invented by a Belgian--Look what the Belgians are doing in the
Congo!
When the state's violence is turned against the citizenry
for non-violent acts.
This quiet neighborhood, July,
undergirded by violence, force. That's a given--
any farmer, custodian, EMT will tell you that.
Without just violence
Gandhi's scope, and King's, might be vanishingly limited,
negligible (but not non-existent)?
Regarding King
the matter is simple -- he was non-violent but dependent upon
federal force to counter the South's violence.
No doubt without the larger force, the non-violent would be
overwhelmed by southern violence.
Here, non-violence was a tactic, not an ethic.
Gandhi, however, had no violent partner to protect him from the
British. Or did he?
1. There was the potential violence of the population, which Gandhi
restrained but could release which the British feared, and
2. It was the restrained (limited scope) violence of the British that
allowed Gandhi to exist rather than be extinguished--this restraint
was a (British) cultural imperative (limited scope) as well as
emanating from Britain's view of India as a protectorate and
valued citizen of the United Kingdom (defensive posture).
What about violence or threat of violence to compel compliance with
community
as in mortgage foreclosure, driving without license, drug possession.
Perhaps it is necessary violence to maintain orderly commerce, the
common space, and preempt bad behaviors associated with
otherwise neutral, private acts.
The defensive posture is the common good; the limited scope is
forgoing deadly force.
But the citizen, too, must maintain a disciplined, armed non-violence,
in case the state (the janjaweed) engages in an unjust, autoimmune
violence.
Hence, a gun in every home.
Aug 11, 2015
Aug 11, 2015 at 9:56 AM UTC
eye did. As my prejudices expected, the odd assortment of "characters"were all present and not to be unaccounted for...a romantic comedy on a good Friday, attracts the believers, the well wishers, the ones who think if only the world was.. and I was not re or so tired of life, unemployed, lonely, damaged in some manner of being...
not too many young, just a few... theater darkness is a masque, with a risqué chance of oh no, I've been witnessed by the non-believers.
the infirm with their mobile caretakers and paraphernalia were there. Odd couples, were there. If there was one unifying common characteristic, I selected this one. We all needed haircuts. eye don't know why but it made me think about going to get one's haircut, and the rituals that requires....and it is and is not a bit like being in a almost totally private world inpublic, where you, the individual and some outside force majeure, hairdresser, movie screen engages and temporarily transforms you. That is why, I, went to the movies on a Friday afternoon, to be transformed and not reformed, in public, in private...
Apr 4, 2015
Apr 4, 2015 at 4:30 AM UTC
Chance
is being in the right place
at the right time,
coinciding with the orbit
of another searching
the aspirations that you to seek.
A connection needs attention,
a compliment, a smile,
an enquiry of mutual interest
that engages instantly.
The abdication of convenient norms,
a shift in behaviour,
adopting a new travel direction.
It requires no discrimination,
but an open welcoming mind,
conjoining parallel convergence,
Meeting.
© Pagan Paul (2018)
Jun 7, 2019
Jun 7, 2019 at 6:27 AM UTC
Dear life, what is it that makes you take on a journey which always leads towards an unavoidable, devestating yet resenting death ?
Since I cannot understand it fully I wander upon this world without finding any clear answers to satisfy the curiousity my heart bears.
In the realm of dreams I find rest, as my mind engages into this illusion and frees me from this reality for as long as my body pleases.
Awakened by loitering darkness, these questions are repeating themselves on a path of recurrance, without decreasing in strengh.
As my breath dies while feeling the agony, flames of hatred are seeping through my fragile, delicate existence, giving energy.
Rumbling, boiling in sadness I tell myself that anyone's forgiveness is not neccesary, losing control over this riot of pure fury without heart.
Looking back a thousand times, it remains as my very best choice.
Letting these emotions race, rage and rampage uncontrollably
Whilst losing ones self within a lunatic laughter to release pressure
I cannot stop these tears, pitying the past long gone rolling down my cheeks, moistening the very soil I am growing on, as a pure lily
Until the moment comes in which my body exhausts itself and allows me to enter the world of dreams, where despair fades into happiness.
Until the sun rises once again
~ Umi
Mar 10, 2018
Mar 10, 2018 at 6:23 PM UTC
All along that grey draped zig-zagging shoreline
The men sat or stood in resolute silence
Each trying to reach back into minds
Scrambled like eggs by the fear of impending violence
Soon the hard faced men will open the gates
As the race will start as hearts will change pace
Then by push and twist they load like cattle
Into great grey hulking hearse's barely floating
Plunging through grey roiling seas toward thunder
Echoing across the channel quotation marks of the battle
That rages ,engages not turning ÷ripping out pages of history
When the water turns red punctuated by the floating dead....
........The question marks and periods
Exclamation marks in the book thats still being written ...
......to what end?
That is what makes any plot a vagrant thought
With a premise being an unresolved mystery
Such are .....
The vagaries of the ever repeating chapters of human history!
Apr 22, 2018
Apr 22, 2018 at 12:40 PM UTC
A forest adventure-we didn't plan it that way at all,
the call of the wild prompted us, is all I can now guess
hand in hand in to the woods we ventured like two possessed,
magical, it felt, we soon disappeared, from the eyes of curious intruders.
erogenous scent of damp earth, after the first sprinkling of monsoon clouds,
pepped up our interest in hunting mushrooms
popping up everywhere, like fragments of white clouds descended,
we pulled out, egg shaped mushrooms that came in to our view
the frenzy we fell in to, possessed us in total,
after all we we are also young and hot blooded,
We competed like hounds in hot pursuit,
ran, collided with each other, fell down,
with a gentle thud, upon each other.
She did lay flat, face down on my chest,
I smelt,musk on her neck a slow intoxicant
and mushrooms hidden in her both armpits,
which I pursued and found out,we were getting hot,
in pursuit of each other's secrets.
the world, we had forgotten completely for long!!
We didn't see evening light melt and
darkness spread stealthily over the woods
that engages the robust body of the night,
from the rendezvous, of these secret lovers,
we sneaked out and saw lighted torches,
approach us from all four directions.
they zeroed in on us,"Who goes there?"
a harsh voice asked,
"This, do you know, is the holy grove,
of mother goddess, strictly watched
for not to be get desecrated
by people who seek some sort of adventure,
such an act never goes unpunished,
we'll search you and find what you did"
We held out mushrooms before them,
and I saw each face turning a lotus!
"where did you get this,? Oh! so much!,
Those are so rare and any one is able to pluck it,
only if mother goddess is pleased"
And then we realized this,
in that forbidden sacred wood,
between us a miracle has happened!
that pleased the mother goddess
of the woods, the blessed presence,
aren't we then the chosen ones?
,
Jul 13, 2013
Jul 13, 2013 at 6:44 PM UTC
Have you ever had a fantasy boyfriend?
The kind that thinks that you’re
A couple
Despite the fact that
You don’t have their cell number
Nor their name,
often
You never had *** or traded spit
They don’t know where you live
They, in fact, know nothing about you
A little laughter shared
Perhaps
A momentary giggle waiting
for the bathroom door to open
And bam! Like Zeus.
Without your ever knowing, you are a team.
A team that never engages
but together none the less. Solid.
Ride or Die.
Then one day
You have an ugly break up.
You never saw it coming
What did you do, you wonder?
He won’t speak to me!
He’s mad. Filled with resentment.
His eyes are on fire. I am hated.
He will show up the next time we see one another
with a woman
And that’s when you finally know for certain
You just had a Fantasy Boyfriend
How did you rupture?
It’s an eerie realization.
Like understanding in an instant
that neither are you the ventriloquist
nor the dummy
But somehow
you
go back into the box.
Better still, have you ever encountered the sub-species
Fantasy Bad Boyfriend?
Or Fantasy Abusive Bad Boyfriend?
They are perhaps the worst of the lot, naturally.
They don’t call.
They date other women.
They sit in their living rooms assured that you’re waiting at their front door.
In the rain.
With flowers.
Over and over the bell, ring though it might
It pleads on your behalf.
And yet they will not answer
And I was not standing there.
I was at the beach
watching the rain fall upon on the water.
You never called
so when they
disappear
For
Days
And return unannounced
You’re just now finding out that
there are serious cracks in your relationship.
They used you
They played with your heart
They apologize for the treatment of which you are so very undeserving
They never wanted you.
Yet you never spoke.
Never popped over with
Flowers
Nor cookies!
Never sat in your car waiting
You were out town the entire
Time.
You two did see a movie once.
That is true.
But now you’re over.
And he’s moved on.
And suggests with his absence?
that you do the same.
You can tell.
Some days your paths cross.
He stands still as Jesus
At the Hollywood Farmer’s Market.
With his wife and new baby
Or
Dog.
She looks at you with suspect eyes while you think about the tomatoes.
Someone wags their tail and hopefully they will quickly move along
en famille.
You hold your tomato plants and shudder.
You walk over to the double blossom peppermint tulips.
Tight little babies ready to unfurl.
The ones you never gave him.
Sep 15, 2018
Sep 15, 2018 at 9:04 PM UTC
when the
storms of life
rages
faith
and
obedience
engages
Apr 6, 2015
Apr 6, 2015 at 9:10 PM UTC
Watch me as I unwrap... passionate,
In the drench of our rain.....
And night falls...
A silent murmur
Where the heart pauses,
A malachite shadow
Penetrates fire,
Burning
A flame's fierce lick
Beneath pulse...
Somewhere....
His smile touches
Warming the red sea of my heart
Pulsating ripples, spread
Soliloquies upon my skin
Orated in Southern sighs...
Slowly...
Desire engages,
******* hardening
Under tongue's brush;
Moist ripe, swollen folds
Tempt his lips to kiss my yielding
Where breath catches,
And I ... smolder within each touch...
Drenched..
My scent quivers languor,
Rhapsodic,
Drowning pools, orchid petaled
Finger parted... tender;
Under sweet seduction,
Stirring the supple bloom,
Tasting the restless currents
That throb through my milky sea...
Small moans...
Electric blue hangs the air..
Primal lust etching curves,
Tracing dewy flesh,
Heating
Skin on skin,
****** scent….arousing,
Tongue brushed hardness
Between dampened lips...
Hot....
The scorching sear... stigmata
Sin licks along thighs,
Essence, dripping,
S W E E T
Sensory overload,
Breaking my binds...
Feed...
My appetite,
I am.. lashes soft, licking thoughts
No words
No words...
Just....
Feed the need that overwhelms,
Grow inside me,
Fill me once again.......
Jan 30, 2013
Jan 30, 2013 at 1:13 PM UTC
Glory to craftsmanship
That endures the wrath of time
Artisans vanish one by one
As is Nature's custom
But their inner beauty
Remains in their labored art.
A masterful stroke of hand
Guided by divine volition
Engages thought's flight
To spheres unknown
Where true art gives birth
To creativity's genius.
Art imparts mystical light
Upon envisioned designs
Shaped by hand, heart and spirit
A poem, a painting, a silver cup
Is brought to life
For the pure joy of creation.
O' masters of the wind
Hearken the hopes of craftsmen
And steer their zing heavenward
They are the symbol of plastic arts
A manifestation of wizardry
Toiling in labyrinth of formation.
Jun 7, 2018
Jun 7, 2018 at 10:59 AM UTC
Heart’s eyes are more dominant than our eyes
It can gaze far-flung beyond the skies
Where the heaven lies…
Where the Angel stays
Where the Torrent engages in recreations
Where the eternal bird chants
Where the heavenly rose shows its salsa
Where the leaves making love with each other crafts a fascinating musica
Where the sun can’t go moon can’t smile
Oh heart! Oh heart! Take me, Take me
Bear me aloft, Bear me aloft
Let me fly on your eternal wings that can fly an infinite mile…….
HUDA
Jan 8, 2013
Jan 8, 2013 at 4:43 PM UTC
Her syllogisms repose trust in her adept beleaguering of unworthy opponents.
Constantly in a state of lassitude for this desultory, inure world of the insouciant youth which dwells upon it's cathartic terrain, she engages not in lachrymose nor is she crestfallen for the hope of romance and it's everlasting ineffability.
She is a fugacious moment of frisson embodied in a human form; a juxtaposition of the serendipitous moments that ever constantly come one after the other in a fickle wheel of steep highs and deep lows. All her life, this girl will lilt through the crossroads of her obstacles and show the world the efflorescence of her beauty. Hush don't speak lest you miss hearing the mellifluous music of her voice of fail to hear the lagniappe that is her name.
She is the cynosure of human attention, the goddess and we are but her humble servants. She is innocence most rare, love most coveted. She is infinite. She is peace.
Jan 13, 2014
Jan 13, 2014 at 10:25 AM UTC
With no argument I think most people agree
With the adage stating that, "you are what you eat"
But it's possible there's information not known
Having equal importance or maybe more so
All the nutrients eaten; We intake our food
It will travel through digestive tract once consumed
Same can also be said of our actions and thoughts
They're the building blocks making up all that we are
Brains are not like a rigid or fixed type machine
An old dog and new tricks go together it seems
Our plasticity will let us both change and shift
It makes pathways; New neural links over the rifts
These connections might possibly benefit us
But this same mechanism can also do stuff
With a negative scope, the outlook and belief
We might think we're no good; Our lives filled with much grief
If we're constantly saying things inside our heads
Like self-doubting, self-loathing and feelings of dread
Then our brain will re-wire to fit this outlook
Once ensconced in this spectrum; Not easily shook
The same way that a person engages with time
Like activity, also is true with the mind
A small change in the way that we look at ourselves
The new thoughts and beliefs in our mind start to meld
With the make-up within that each one of us holds
Self-beliefs and self-doubts from our birth till we're old
Like a painter with ink; Our brush never is dry
We are always creating what's in our mind's eye
So don't hinder yourself with a picture that's bleak
Just believe in yourself and go get what you seek
You are capable of so much more than you know
All it takes is belief and in time it will show
Dec 17, 2018
Dec 17, 2018 at 1:27 AM UTC
Trust in Faith
It's raining and the sun has returned home
although I am by myself, yet I am not alone
mind engages intellect, with time to consider
how this heart of mine, has grown so bitter
Not long ago, reflections of the past were a delight
then in a brief moment, my happiness took flight
once having a life with meaning, love and security
now with remorse and desire, for a heart with purity
Continuing to pursue life normally, while anxieties drown the mind
no matter what I might do, any sense of happiness seems confined
confused with mixed emotions, and knowing that they are both true
yet despite my conflict, still mustering the will to tell her, I love you
With each and every passing day, I look forward to behold
once again to greet those yesterdays, those yesterdays of old
but those yesterdays are buried, the fear of the future takes hold
all of what now remains, are those few tomorrows left to unfold
Worries must stem from this lack of control, how not to consider
thinking of how few years are left to live, could anyone not be bitter
the unknown of what the rest of your life will bring, an awesome fear
when you advance in years, only then does it become all too clear
Times passes, the body ages, memories flounder, and reality sets in
maybe tomorrow the mail will arrive, addressed to: The Next of Kin
finding yourself in an emotional upheaval, there is but one thing to do
forage deep down inside, and uncover your faith, your only rescue
Faith will give you the strength, it will guide you to trust in the One above
fears of the future and of the unknown, disappear in this world called love
experiencing midlife crisis, something you can and will successfully overcome
but first never stop searching, trusting in G-d, and to depression never succumb
Jul 24, 2015
Jul 24, 2015 at 7:38 AM UTC
Is a happy accident predictable?
Could I prophecy that red is romance
And that we'll meet in the Tunnel-of-Love
That is part of London's skeleton?
Will the Central Line tie us up,
When happiness is accidental,
Like a red ribbon following 'destiny'?
Am I able to sit on full buses
Without a new fated friend sitting
On that one empty seat?
Dearest Who-Knows-Who
Will I trip and drown you in tea
And stain your ears with words;
Will it be the start of a beautiful
Work-but-never-social relationship?
Can I foresee the strike of chance that
Has two hands reaching for the same
Bottle of milk only to then be locked
Into a battle of politeness with my
Defeat being an exchange of dairy for
Kind ears? Or is our shared liquid desire
Made by a patient and the soon to be
Doctor in, say, seven accidents time?
Perhaps a publisher engages in this war
Of intrinsic social conduct, perhaps my poetry
Is destined for pages because of this bottle,
Perhaps I become a helping hand.
Perhaps perhaps perhaps.
Not all of this is an exercise in futility;
I look out from my window and see a city
Filled with cracked pavements or missed trains
Or shared taxis or dropped books or...or....
Or, perhaps, that ever so unpredictable,
Wonderful, accidental serendipity.
May 11, 2013
May 11, 2013 at 4:11 PM UTC
nefarious nested newfound
minds gather in dim-lit bedroom
shining with love.
taking seconds from an
extended time frame.
what eludes to harm done
comes from adultration
of a vision - friendship.
it's been said, no loyalty with
dope fiend drugdrugsdrug addicts.
when under the greensmoke
light of a cracked window
and wheezing-- OH the wheezing--
of youth taking
extra time to become
tomorrow's electronic future.
it's gonna be different
than yester-year, dear.
20% of our feeble country
engages indulges
in this ancient sacredity
&as; for you, my dear ones,
sitting in the dark,
jeopardy, saw IV, daft's
harderbetterfasterstronger
--"i've never seen so many colours!"
my heart calls as yours does,
for a future we're waking up to.
we're not violent vicious vile
backstabbing cold-mongers.
if anything,
laughing at them.
quoting movies, queueing memories.
preparing for world dissolution.
i hate the bane too, kids, but we
know who we are.
Feb 13, 2010
Feb 13, 2010 at 6:05 AM UTC
Murmured voices break the silence
To my right
a cute couple clink
their wine glasses together
in a celebratory toast.
Off to the left,
an older gentleman
engages an old-ish lady
in whispered conversation.
I’m guessing he’s whispering
sweet nothings to his bride.
The well dressed young man
standing at the bar
survey’s the crowd,
looking restless.
He seems to be waiting
for…
Ah, that beautiful girl
that just walked in.
Her eyes light up,
his face breaks into
a big smile.
I love the ambience
of this old place.
Red carpets,
dim lights,
candles flickering in
every direction.
My time here is
almost done.
I only need
some sugar
for this last
cup of coffee.
Oct 3, 2014
Oct 3, 2014 at 9:05 PM UTC
Anger becomes me,
Rage engages my fits .
Such unholy acts transpire through me.
Blood vesicles are visible on my illuminant skin.
Breath becomes heavy,
breath grows slow.
Tears puff in my eyes.
Lost, is my mind,
Solace is solitary.
To me it's all the same,
Solace to anger
and,
anger to pain.
Rage grows old,
Smiles become unholy,
Tears are solitary.
Anger,
Anger,
Anger.
Jan 11, 2014
Jan 11, 2014 at 4:43 PM UTC
Are we to wither away, say goodbye to the remote possibility of everything or the acceptance of nothing, damaged as we are from life and what it has thrown at us and how we have adapted to it, where is the strength we thought nothing of when we were young – everything was possible, anything could be overcome.
Now it is harder to start from the beginning to rise from the detritus that has left its smudge on this human plane, to feel warmth from one’s own heart, passions that used to run deep are locked away lost from the moment, will they ever return or are they buried from this reality – what is this reality?
Pure and without stimulus our bodies weak from over indulgence become but empty vessels for our pain to adhere to, but yet exists this mind of memories that fail to disappear.
These very memories fight with the functionality that we accept as our living life mixed with dreams and our experiences laid bare to improve upon the quality of our anger, frustration, pleasure and happiness that engages us again, enabling us the advantage to overcome our apathy and withstand hardship and discomfort, both mentally and physically.
And once again we shout from the highest imagined ground our intentions and with our determination set to turbo drive, we move out on to the superhighway of our existence, battling our demons to achieve our presupposed goals, is this living?
Or merely homage to a bygone set of loosely interpreted doctrine absorbed from our greater consciences. Individuality what has this become? – A freedom to define ones uniqueness?
Is it truly accepted or is it frowned upon, an illusion perhaps, to be held high then massaged by ego, manipulated by the wannabees and dismissed by the pseudo intellectuals for their contrived ill-gotten gains.
Or is it puerile credo that mutates in to a complex melange of all things material, a substitute for the happiness that existed in a previous incarnation of existence, without doubt a causal effect imploding, oblivious to the damage that is caused by the ignorance of consideration and distillation of emotion from love, to the banality of acceptance.
Once again the circle is circumvented and the cycle is begun in earnest until the finality of death is welcomed unto the midst of longing from the soul, in repose before its journey to dance amongst the cosmos.
Nov 25, 2012
Nov 25, 2012 at 6:53 PM UTC
Allure
Beauty from the sultriest with even steady glow exquisite soft lines is perfected in the creature
Dreams are resonant the eyes smolder all tender entry viewed from lips of lushness
Crowned with hair beyond mortal texture it perfectly accentuates loving doll quality’s full mixture
The promise held forth borders crossed unable to envision your dumb all filled with doubt as she pouts
The soul engages as the eyes flame and burn with passion the heart beats with hard thumps
Heavenly body formed from flesh in its force you reel emotional exhilaration extends to enthrallment
Hands touch the visible world seems altered the blood seems to halt its flowing the mind *******
Reconsider the alignment of the stars surly you have passed them in the silver moons glowing stream
The exotic has burst forth on a common stage all has juxtaposed the delirium takes free course
The dance now begun the coupled whirl started here ends among the marveling distant clouds
Enchantment has found its boundless geography it not on any maps it’s truly the heart at it’s source
Governed never the reins to this wild and free spirit has never been made that would be injustice
Has loveliness limits are the galaxies measurable how can they when their ever growing and bestowing
Featureless flawless curvy arts greatest inspiration told through a form that’s made to love and hold
If genius is ever is to be expounded bring the beloved of all men set her in the midst her essence flowing
The world speaks of desirability its fount its ever coursing real ideal is found in timeless womanhood
Jan 1, 2012
Jan 1, 2012 at 8:47 PM UTC
There are many of them --
Life as it happens gets recorded
in my hard disc of a brain
(I'm always in 'save by default' mode) --
some are like
harmless, even pleasant, butterflies
some like
stinging bees
I store them all
in cages
in the posterior of my mind
even as the Present engages me
I often catch snatches of
sounds of buzzing,
or, of the flutter of wings
never allowing myself
to get a full blast of them
(I don't usually dwell in the past, you see, it's the future that causes worry)
except in occasional moments
of mental peace
when I let the cages open
and they swarm into my head -
the bees and butterflies -
diffusing colour
into my monochrome mind
making every bit of it
bloom alive --
it's like listening to old cassettes
you know
dusty, old cassettes that were lying
in some drawer, locked away;
like turning the pages of a novel
read long ago,
getting re-introduced to its characters --
and a gamut of feelings
rushes through you...
Feb 12, 2013
Feb 12, 2013 at 9:46 AM UTC