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Bathsheba Feb 2011
I love your wicked disrespect

How you absconded and broke free

From the chains that tried to bind you

To the poets code for all eternity

You thought to hell with all that ****

I have my axe to grind

You cast aside the literary bonds

And no longer were you blind

Free you were to use the words

Whichever way you choose

Artfully awakened via the adrenalin  

You released your dormant muse

You do not play with words my friend

Your writes are real and not pretend

No descriptive flowery language here

No metaphors in pride of place

Should you run and hide under the nearest stone?

For being the modern day poets distasteful disgrace

So   …    **** the poet’s philosophies

They can shove them up their ****

I’ll take the lead from you my friend

Liberation from this fraudulent farce
I hateth th' song of th' grass outside;
and t'eir blades t'at swing about my feet
like fire. How unfeeling all of which are-
did t'ey really think I wouldst ever be tantalised
by t'eir sickly magic? Such a gross one-
demanding, rapacious, parasitic!
Even I am fed up with t'eir proposals,
and ideas t'at t'ey fervently throw
in th' hope t'at t'ey canst corrupt my dreams,
my feelings-ah, yes, my sincere feelings,
and secure, t'ough imaginary, dreams.
Oh, and my comfortable desire as well!
My rosy desire-which at times canst tiringly
petrify me-ah, unbelievable, is it not? Th' fact
t'at I am so satiatingly, and daringly, petrified
by my own desire-and reproved by th' one
whom I am astonished at, praise, and admire;
How pitiful I am! How horrific and tragic!
I hath knitted my sorry without caution,
I was too immersed in vivid glances
and disguises and mock admiration.
Perhaps it hath been my mistake!
Eyes t'at blindly saw,
ears t'at wrongly judged!
Lies t'at I forsook,
tensions t'at I undertook!
Oh, how credulous I am-to vice!
Mock me, detest me, strangle me!
Stop my sullen heart from breathing-
as I hath, I hath spurned my darling-
oh, I hath lost my love!
How sorrowful, tearful-and painful!
And how I hath lost my breath; for cannot I stop
my feet from swimming and tapping
in t'is fraudulent air, gothic and transient
With poems t'at no matter how mad,
but nearly as thoughtful and eloquent,
I shalt still remain doleful and sad,
for my love for him is indeedst thorough-
and imminent; No matter how absurd he fancies
I am, and how he looketh at me oftentimes
with twigs of governing dexterity;
but most of all, shame.
I hath no shape now.
I hath lost, and raked away,
my elaborate conscience;
I hath corrupted my conciseness,
I hath wounded my sanguinity,
originality, and thoughts even, of my poetic
soul-of my poetic bluntness and sometimes
rigid, creativity.
I am an utter failure.
I am a mad creature; I am maddened by love,
I am frightened by virtue, I despise and reject
truth. I hath no sibling in t'is world of humanity,
ah-yes, no more sibling, indeedst,
neither any more puzzles of fate
t'at I ought to host, and solve;
I deserve nothing but fading and fading away
and give up my soul, my human soul-
to being a slave to disgrace
and cordial nothingness.
I belongst not, to t'is whole human world;
T'is is not my region, for I canst, here-
smell everything sacrificed for one another
and rings of delightful and blessed laughter
which I loathe, with all th' sonnets and auguries
of my laconic heart. Oh, I am misery!
I am evil, evil misery!
I, myself, equal tragedy; I am a devil,
a feminine and laurel-like devil-
just like how I look,
but tormented I am inside,
as a cursed being by nature and God Almighty
for never I shalt be bound to any love;
and engaged to any hands
in my left years and in th' afterlife outright.
I shalt have never any marriage within me,
any marriage worthy of talks, parties,
neither anything my wan heart desires;
like sweets with no sweetness,
or dances with no music.
No human love should ever
be properly conducted by me,
I am incapable of embodying
a unity, I am destined to be with me.
To be with me only-ah, as sad as it is,
as vague as how it sounds, or it might be.
O, and how I should love, emptiness!
Any loss should thus be romantic to me:
Just how death already is;
my husband is death,
and my chamber is his grave.
I shalt, night and day, sing to th' leaves
on his tomb,
ah-as t'ey are alive to me!
Yes, my darling reader! To me, t'ey are living souls,
t'ey open t'eir mouths and sing to me
Whenever I approach 'em with my red
bucket of flowers; lilies t'ey eat, ah-
how romantic t'ey look, with tongues
slithering joyfully over th' baked loaves I proffer!
T'eir smell of rotting flesh my hug,
meanwhile t'eir deadness my kisses!
T'eir greyness, and paleness-my cherry,
and t'eir red-blood heath my berry!
So glad shalt I becometh, and shimmer shalt my hair-
and be quenched my buoyant hunger-
beneath th' sun, with my hands, t'at hath
been aborted for long, robbed of whose divine functions
Laid in such epic, and abundant rejections
Brought into life again, and its surreal breath
But t'is time realistic, t'ough which happiness
shalt be mortal, as I perfectly, and tidily knoweth
and as I flippeth my head around
And duly openeth my eyes, I shalt again
be sitting in th' same impeccable nowhereness,
nowhere about th' dead lake, with its white-furred
swans, ghost-like at t'is hour of night-
Wherein for th' rest of my years should I dwell,
with no ability and desired tranquility
t'at canst once more guarantee
my security to escape.
T'ere's no door-yes, no door, indeedst,
to flee from th' gruesome trees,
t'eir putrid breath solitary and reeks of tears,
whilst t'eir tangled leaves smell strongly
of vulgarity and hate.
I hate as well-th' foliage amongst 'em,
grotesque and fiendish art whose dreamy visages,
with sticking tails wiping and squeaking
about my eyes, t'ough as I glance through
thy heavens, Lord, gleam like watery roses
before t'eir petals swell, fall, and die.
Oh-so creepy and melancholy t'ese feelings are,
but granted to me I knoweth not how,
as to why allowed not I am,
to becomest a more agreeable mistress
to a human-a human t'at even in solitude
breathes th' same air, and feels all th' same
indolent as me, by th' tedious,
ye' cathartic, morn.
Ah, and shalt I miss my lover once more
And t'is time even more persistently t'an before,
For every single of his breath is my sonnet,
and every word he utters my play.
He is th' salvation, and mere justification
I should not for ever forget,
just like how I should cherish
every sound second; every brand-new day.
My heart is deeply rooted in him;
no matter how defunct-
and defected it may seem,
as well as how futile, as t'is selfish world
hath-with anger and jealousy, deemed.
How I feel envy towards t'ose lucky ones,
with lovers and ringlets about t'eir palms,
so jealous t'at I cringe towards my own fate,
and my inability to escape which.
How unfair t'is world is sometimes-to me!
Ah, but I shalt argue further not;
I shalt make t'is exhaustive story short-
I am like a nasty kid trapped in th' dark,
without knowing in which way I should linger,
'fore making my way out and surpass her.
She is a curse-indeedst, a curse to me,
t'ough at th' moment she is a cure-but to him,
but she is all to forever remain a bad dream,
which he should but better quit,
she shalt subdue my light,
and so cheat him out of his wit.
She is an angel to him at night,
but at noon he sees her not,
she is an elegant, but mischievous auroch
with ineffectual, ye' doll-like and plastic auras
She is deceit, she is litter, she is mockery;
She hath all but an indignant, ****** beauty
She does not even hath a life, nor
a journey of destiny
She hath not any trace of warmth, or grace,
and most of th' time, at night
It is her agelessness t'at plays,
she ages but she falsely tricks him-my love,
into her lusted, exasperating eagerness;
t'ough colourless is her soul, now,
from committing too much of yon sin
She still knoweth not of her unkindness,
and thinks t'at everything canst be bought
by beauty, and t'at neither love nor passion
canst afford her any real happiness.

Ah, my love, I am hung about
by t'is prolific suspense;
My heart feels repugnant in its wait;
uncertain about everything thou hath said
As thou wert gentle but mean to me;
despite my kindness, ye' mistaken shortcomings
as I stood by th' railings th' other day, next to thee.
Ah, thee, please hear my apologies!
Oh, thee, my life and my midday sun,
a song t'at I sing-in my bed and on my pillow,
last week, yesterday, today, and tomorrow.
I am, however, to him forever a childlike prodigy-
shalt never he believeth in my tales,
ah, his faith is not in me,
but I in him.
How despicable!
But foolishly I still love him,
even over t'is overly weighing injustice
on my heart-
ah, still I love him, I love him!
I love him too badly and madly,
I love him too keenly, but wholly passionately.
I love him with all my heart and body!
Oh, Kozarev, I love thee!
I love thee only!
For love hath no more weight, neither justice
within it, if it is given not by thee;
I was born and raised to be thine,
as how thou wert created
and painted and crafted-by God Almighty,
to be mine. As I sit here I canst savagely feel, oh,
how painfully I feel-yon emptiness,
t'is insoluble, inseparable solitude
filled not with thy air, glancing at
th' deafening thunder, rusty rainbows
With thee not by my side.
I fallest asleep, as dusk preaches
and announces its arrival,
But asleep into a burdened nightmare,
too many fears and screams heightened in it,
ah, I am about to fallest from smart rocks
into th' boiling tides of fire beneath my feet.
I wake into th' imprudent smile of th' moon,
and her coquettish hands and feet
t'at conquer th' night so cold.
She is about to scold me away again,
'fore I slap her cheeks and send her back
to sleep, weeping.
I return to my wooden bench, and weep
all over again, as without thee still I am,
barefooted and thinly clothed amongst
th' dull stars at a killing cold night.
Th' rainbow is still th' rainbow,
but it is now filled with horror,
for I am not with thee, Kozarev!
Oh, Kozarev, th' darling of my heart,
th' mere, mere darling of my silent heart,
even th' heavens art still less handsome
t'an thy images-growing and fading
and growing and fading about me
Like a defiant chain, thou art my naughty prince,
but th' most decorous one, indeed;
thou art th' gift t'at I'th so heartily prayed for
and supplicated for-over what I should regard
as th' longest months of my life.
O, Kozarev, thou art my boy,
and which boy in th' world
who does not want to
play hide-and-seek in th' garden-
like we didst, last Monday?
Thou art my poem,
and thus worth all th' stories
within which. Thou art genial,
cautious, and beneficent. Thou art
vital-o, vital to me, my love!
I still blush with madness at th' remembrance
of thy voice, and giggle with joy and tears
over yon picture of thee; I canst ever forget thee
not, and sure as I am, t'at never in my life
I shalt be able to love, nor care for another;
thou art mine, Kozarev, thou art mine!
Thou art mine only, my sweet!
And ah, Kozarev, thou knoweth, my darling,
t'at the rainbow is longer beautiful
tonight; and as haughtiness surfaces again
from th' cynical undergrowth beneath,
I am afraid t'at t'eir fairness and brightness
shalt fade-just like thy love, which was back then
so glad and tender, but gets warmer not;
as we greet every inevitable day
and tend to t'eir needs,
like those obedient clouds
to th' appalling rain, in th' sky.

Ah, but nowest look-look at thee! Thy innocence,
t'at was but so delicate and sweet-
like t'ose bare, ye' green-clustered bushes yonder,
is now in exile, yes, deep exile, my love!
I congratulate thee on which, yes, I do!
I honestly do! For thy joy and gladness
doth mean everything to me,
'ven t'ough it means th' rudest,
th' eeriest of life; t'at I shalt'th ever seen!
But should I do so? T'at is a question
I canst stop questioning myself not.
Should I? Should I let thee go
and t'us myself suffer here
from th' absence
of my own true love-
and any ot'er future miracles
in my life?
I think not!
Ah, and not t'at there'd be
any ot'er mirages in my love,
for all hath been, and shalt always be-
united in thee! O, in thee, only, Kozarev!
For I am certain I love thee,
and so hysterically love thee only,
even amongst th' floods-ah, yes,
t'ese ambiguous piles of flooding pains,
disgusting as blood, but demure,
and clear as my own heartbeat;
I love and want thee only,
as how I dreameth of,
and careth for thee every night,
t'ough just in my dream,
and in life yet not!
Ah, Kozarev, I am thy star,
just like thou art mine-already,
I am fated and bound to thee,
and thou to me.
Thou art not an illusion,
neither a picture of my imagination.
Thou art real, Kozarev,
thou art real-and forever
shalt be real to me;
thou art th' blood,
t'at floweth through my veins,
thou art th' man,
t'at conquereth my heart-and hands,
thou art everything,
thou art more t'an my poem
and my delicate sonnet,
thou art more t'an my life
or my ever dearest friend.

Probably 'tis all neither a poem,
nor a matter of daydreams;
perhaps still I needst to find him,
t'ough it may bringst me anot'er curse,
and throwest me away
and into anot'er gloom.
Ah, Kozarev, thou-who shalt never
be reading t'is poem, much less write one
Unlike thou wert to me back t'en;
Thou art still as comely as th' sun;
Thou art still th' man t'at I want.
Even whenst all my age is done;
and my future days shalt be gone.
Ryan O'Leary Jan 2019
Golden Valleys, Growing Naturally

                        <>

This is a Logo in Ireland, Dairygold™
is the company.

I would safely say, that there is hardly
an acre in rural Ireland devoid of some
form of artificial fertilisers, pesticides,
herbicides or fungicides.

(Ireland is riddled with consumer cancer)

If the Logo was written as follows,
a comma between Growing & Naturally
plus an exclamation mark ! which should
really be a question mark ? (in the absence
of the comma between Valleys & Growing)
                            i.e.
Golden Valleys, Growing, Naturally! or ?

               Then it might pass.

Let's see if we can force them to change
it and by doing so, it will highlight the
fraudulent practice of duping consumers
with blatant grammatical omissions and
the wordplay illusion by clever marketers.

(Well, perhaps not as clever as they thought)

ps.

I spent all morning, wondering should they
be a comma in the last paragraph, in the
afternoon, I removed it.  Oscar Wilde.
Big Virge Aug 2014
After the 7/7 bombing ...
This is part of a Trilogy of poems to remind people about  
where some of their, " Anti-Islam Rhetoric ", started from ....
  
(BTW ... I am NOT, Pro-Islam)
  
What Happened Yesterday ...
Left Many Folks ... AMAZED ... !!!!!
  
To See The London Underground ...
  
BLOWN UP And Ablaze ... !!!  
  
Of Course We've Heard ... REACTIONS ...
From The ... Usual Political Factions ...  
  
But ...
While Things Were ... COLLAPSING ... !!!
  
Where Were They ...  
" G8 " ... Protracting ... ?!?
  
It's ... NEVER Them ... ?!?
That ... Feel The STING ...
But People Who ...
WON'T Be The Same AGAIN ... !!!!!  
  
SOME Have Died ...
While Some ... " Survived " ...  
  
But They May Wish ...  
They'd ... Lost Their Life ... ?  
  
What We ... "HEAR" ...
Is ... " So Contrived " ...  
  
It's AL QAEDA ...
ALL THE TIME ... !!!!!!!!!!
  
Let's Not Keep ...
THE TRUTH ... " dIsGuisED " ...
They Have Got ... Western Allies ... !!!
  
So .....
Where's The Proof  ... ???
To Dispel ... " LIES " ...  
  
That ... Will Be Fed ...
To ... "CONTROLLED Minds" ...  
  
I Haven't Got A Clue ... ?
Try ... MI5 ... !!!  
  
Aren't They The Ones ... ???
Who ... PROTECT LIVES ... !?!
  
They Seemed To Be ... " LOST " ... !?!?!
Did They Need A Guide ... ???
  
It's ... Cars They Drive ...
While Some Have ... DIED ... !!!
  
On ... GUESS WHAT YES ... !!?!!
A ... Double Decker Ride ...
  
But ... " It's Okay ! "
Is What They Say ...  

"Security measures are now in place !"
  
Okay That's Great ... !!!
But The Fact Is THIS ...
  
IT'S A LITTLE TOO LATE ... !!!
  
When MANY NOW ...
Have Met Their Fate ... !!!
  
Isn't  ... PREVENTION ...
Better Than .... " Cure " ... ?!?
  
You'd Better Ask Bob ... ?
Or Try ... Midge Ure ... !!!!
  
LIVE AID Worked ... !!!
It Got A .... REACTION ....  
  
Yeah .....
  
George Bush AIN'T ...
Removing ... SANCTIONS ... !!!
  
Fair Trade Is A Better Way ...  
Than Giving Pop Stars ...  
  
The ... " Political Stage " ...  
  
They Just Want ...
Some More ... AIRPLAY ... !!!
  
Those Who Believe ...
What The Media say ...  
Are ... VEXING ME ... !!! ...
In ... Different Ways ... !!!!!
  
People I Work With ...  
Make Me ... " Laugh " ...  
  
"Virgil, this thing ain't a joke !
Someone in here may have had their heart broke !"
  
That ... May Be True ... ?
  
But Here's MY VIEW ...  

People Laugh ...
Every ******* Day ... !!!
While ... " Many DIE " ...  
In ... " DIFFERENT Ways " ...  
  
NOT ... NATURALLY ... !!!
They're ... " CASUALTIES " ...  
of Things We All See ...
In ... " Societies " ...  
  
Come On Folks ... !!!
You ... Must Agree ... ?!?
  
So ... Don't You Point ...
Fingers ... At Me ... !!!
  
Cos' You ... Like Me ...
Are ... ALL GUILTY ...  
of Making Jokes ...
While Others ... BLEED ... !!!
  
Look At Those ...
Who Had To Sleep ...
In London Hotels ...
  
Beds .....  
DIDN'T COME CHEAP ... !!!!!!
  
These Are The Acts ...
of The ... GREEDY BREED ... !!!
  
I'll Laugh OUT LOUD ...  
Cos' That ... AIN'T ME ... !!!!!!!  
  
People Have ... " Died " ...
  
Yeah It's A  ... TRAGEDY ... !!!
  
But ... How Many Care ... ???
About ... " Those in NEED " ... !!!
  
In Places ... Here ...
In This Country ...  
And Those Who SUFFER ...
..... " Overseas " .... ?!?!?
  
How Many Can Say ... ?

" They think of them ! "
  
Those Living A Life ...
WITHOUT ... " Freedom " ...  
  
It's TRUTH I Talk ...
While You Build Forts ...
To Save ... Yourself ...
From ... " Conscious Thoughts " ...  
  
And Then Want To Act ...
Like ... " You're A GOOD SPORT " ... ?!?  
  
And Think About Those ...
With LESS ... NOT More ... ???
  
Check YOURSELF ...
In The ... Baggage Hall ... !!!!!
  
This FOR SURE ...
I DO ... " IMPLORE " ... !!!!!
  
I DON'T Know Everything ... !!!  
I DON'T Claim To ... !!!
  
But Nowadays ...
  
My Views Are ... " Shrewd " ...  
  
I'm Searching For ... TRUTH ... !!!
NOT .... " Fraudulent News " .... !!!

" It's a power surge ! "
  
REMEMBER Those Words ... ???
  
Cos' Now WE KNOW ...
That Message Was ... BlUrReD ... !!!
  
YES ... With These Words ...
You Must ... CONCUR ... !!!
  
So These Last Words ...
Go To ... " Fake Factions " ...  
  
EVERY Action ...
Provokes A ...
  
... " Reaction " ...
7/7 was a day where things changed dramatically in the UK, and gave artists plenty to say ! .... So, here a few of my immediate views, and indeed reactions to what was fed to the public, by the government, and media news crews !
Even if I loved thee a thousand times, still thou'd never be real.
But still, in t'ese dark miseries and dreams of th' night-
ah, just like t'is silent night of ours
And t'ose fierce fairy tales of young hours
Thou'd still be shaken off my realms
As soon as morn comes-and unveils anew, my charms.
O, death, how lush and inviting thou art,
even though at t'is early age thou might
still be asleep and thus soundeth really far.
Thou art but as naughty as t'ose abundant peeping stars,
brimming with locks of divine warmth and wealth
T'ey shalt again, tease up my mind
Whilst capture my rude, hating heart;
and once more shall t'is gruesome life turn into a solitude
Beside promises t'at canst harm souls' benign attitude.
But as soon as thou art gone; thou might just be no longer safe
And to my conscience thy threat is no more than a slave
Thy delicacy is but servile and uninviting
In t'ose choruses of blood and suffering
For which our senses should nay be proud;
but only of our genuine voices and gravity
T'at though sometimes seem virtual,
but still, are crafted within reality.

And yes, my painting, behind thy soul was ever born thy art,
Locked safely within thy summer foliage and forests
But shall I, for your goodwill ever be sketched?
Ah, one swiftly done, and miraculously correct-
yes, one only, my love, for th' very sake of single jests!
For in thy eyes hovers my triumph,
and in t'ose bogs beneath-
yes, th' ones idling about thy feet,
are cuddled-just here like my little heart, my love.
A sacred love t'at is thrown about
But to which my thirst canst never shout.
Ah, as if my voice is hoarse, and not loud-
and soon I step into whose soils, shall be sanely caught.
Caught and swung around thy idyll-though against my will;
amongst heaven's sandy shoals, and t'eir creepy windowsill.
Oh, and be defected with t'ose blades of thy swords, how evil!
Bereft of my sanity, prudence and sometimes too-bitter delicacy
As I dance around to those lands of hurtful mockery.
Be my soul's delighted worry, and mouth-oh, but mouth of blasphemy!
Ah, how of which I'm now devilishly tired!
Though you might be my eternal sire,
and beside whom my virginal soul shall forever feel so sure
As if my pride shall never ever retire,
everything shall altogether be wounded and obscure
But comely and true, just like t'at shimmering white-lipped dew
With breaths so smooth, like one from my feelings for you.

Ah, my prince! T'is craze for thee is an arrogant little devil;
and its longing for thee which gradually eats away my soul
and at times ****** and tells me harshly what to feel.
Just like t'ose ill-hearted fruits of people's minds
For which t'eir villains wouldst even in death bleakly whine
I am but forever bound to thee;
just like thou art already inside of me;
For in majestic times of our days
Thou shall hungrily partake
my fruity; but eager soul, soul away
and marvel about th' visages of my purity
I shall always but love thee once more;
no matter how boastful thou art,
and detestable virginal pain might be!
For thou art always to me as pure,
though unconvincingly art forever in vain-
For t'ose loveless satisfactions thou hath procured-
and premature pain thou hath delightfully endured.
But healthily t'ese senses shall always love thee
And with such tragedies and tears
canst t'ey but forgive thee only
Because, regardless of how untrue thou art;
You lifted my soul when I was down
And cheered me up 'twixt yon last wound
Dark was th' night t'at day, ye' tender was the moon
As both would pass and dusk would fade away soon
And into my blood thou injected th' real meaning of virtue
Whenst I was all wasted and coldly blue
Whilst my thoughts had not even a clue.

Ah, painting, but still, our love is incorrect as a tragedy-
for t'is world is too exhaustive and greedy
And at times elusive whenst but not necessary-
to grant our love th' chance we needst best!
Oh, but hark; hark once more, my love!
Over t'ere are bursts and chants of a heartbroken violin,
Though spurned by heretic hanging clouds,
slandered by boastful chirping winds.
But, no matter; no matter how hard it might seem
Thou art still to me an indescribable story;
and in thy red cheeks lies my stranded vitality
Signs of virtuous tenderness and curtained loyalty
As though thou art but still with no sin;
No sin; and ah! No stain, no stain at all-of
neither viable crossness nor madness
Though thy cleverness is at times no more to be seen
As once thou said, t'at for thee t'ere might just be
no any further happiness.

Ah! And trapped shall I be, within poisonous vileness
Should I not be granted thee
For thou art th' only soul I love, and idolise
Through whom my life was once formed, and characterised.
For love, to me is like a whole pattern;
and thus needst to be complete;
Thereby in t'is sense-loving him is but like denying
my own merit-merit t'at I am part of, and sure of-
for it is not love, though he might; as fate might say;
just as reliable and handsome and sweet.
But still, he is not thee!
And by no chance, is being not thee is but the same,
as being thee!
How fraudulent, and gross-t'is comparison all be!
Ah! And so thou knoweth, t'at he is, too me-
more even not than a stunning evening doll
Like those ones I hath seen so often
strutting about posh malls
Whilst with heartlessness welcoming
and sneering at innocent cold falls
With faces too stern, yellow, and sometimes bold;
Too bold to be true, much less sincere
And wholly unlike thine-amongst those sins;
t'at for thou honestly admit; look still sparkling and keen;
thus so astoundingly charming my veins and curdling my blood
Until thy unread shadows but reach my heart;
With such braveness and th' frankness of a gentleman
Like at that moment-whenst we told each other's life stories, back then.

Ah, and lure, lure my heart, my love!
And play with it soon as we sit 'mongst th' groves;
I would like to lay again about thy breast,
as I whisper once more to thy chest;
t'at it is truly thee that my soul loves;
and invites to love from t'is moment to end.
Ah, but t'is love started I knew not when,
though never have I thought thou art just my friend.
And lie, just lie to me no more,
t'at thou, just like me-but needst me to thy very core,
with a love t'at seems impatient,
but is born still, from pure virtue and resilience.
Oh! How valuable thou art to me, darling!
Thou who art to me such a mindful; soulful treasure,
and betwixt thy impurity thou remaineth but pure;
Thou are a smiling cloud to my blinding sun;
but sunlight to my rain as soon as it is done.

And thick and tough just as yon bough may seem,
thou shall forever be to me more t'an him!
I shall do and always want thee,
it is thy picture t'at I keepest within and about me.
Ah! And to t'is world, I promise, I shall not bluntly surrender
as how my wailing heart it shall never disrupt!
For thee I shall swear with a thousand loves greater,
t'at from actualising thee, I shall never be stopped!

Then please, please me, o my love-once more,
and talk to me and look at me sweetly as just never before.
For I love thee brightly and gently, as how air loves breath;
and so shall I love thee purely and greatly, as how life loves death.
Hafsa Mustafa Nov 2014
I'm sure my days are numbered
I know I'm caught up in blunders

Cz I trusted your fraudulent promises
Now I can't pass these spaces

I'm on my bed, counting my days
You brought me in this creepy faze

I trusted you but you gave gashes to me
You joined the dagger to the wounded heart of me

I don't know if it will end, ''the **** phase''
May be you'll get a body with frightful face!
Poetic T Mar 2017
I collected the currency of my failings inserting voices  
into the deluge of my figurine dancing on the precipice
of my tainted visage.

But I was short of necessitates, fraudulent reimbursement
was reincorporated, and I was woven unwept as the distresses
of what I had done wove upon my silhouette.

Blank verses were woven on my pools of sky blue, now vacant
only snow flakes of nothingness fell on my perception.
I was not as before I was whole but concussed in creation.

Interwoven, incomplete essences of me. I wasn't that which
was reflected outwards, all that was now interlaced in an
abomination of false reflections and I paid the ultimate price.
Chattering boxes are but the brain at work, with dreary thoughts doing the consistent work.

Laughable laughs come out as bold lies, as the true core we barely adore slowly dies.

With true words never being spoken, will the dark spell of the fraudulent counterfeits ever be broken?

The world is now digital and synthetic, and the almighty aesthetic is now genetic.
Big Virge Dec 2019
Poor Tony Blair ...
His Job's Been A STRESS ... !!!
  
Well That's A Shame ... !!!
If He Wants Sympathy For Stress He Feels ...
  
He's NOT Just STRESSED He's Going INSANE ... !!!
  
He's Held The Reins For Far Too Long ... !!!!!
If He's Been Through Stress That's Okay Be GONE ... !!!!!!
  
You've Clearly Proved The People WRONG ... !!!
  
You're Stressed And CLEARLY ...  
Far From ........................................................ STRONG ... !!!  
  
Try Wearing Pants NOT George's Thong ... !!!!!
  
You've Been Bought Like Your Army Crews ...
Well Thanks To You STRESS Has Hit The Masses Too ... !!!!!!
  
You've Made Some CRY Into Tissues .....
But Of Course YOU'RE STRESSED ... !!!!?!!!
  
I'm A Bit ... Confused ... ??!?!!!?
  
Your Movie Should Be Ridiculed ... !!!!!
Because It Shows Your ... " Shady Moves " ... !!?!!
  
You've CLEARLY Used A Puppets' Shoes ...
And Dealt In LIES Whilst Shielding ... "Truth" ... !!!
  
I Don't Have Time To Give You Proof ...
Because of Laws You're Passing Through ... !!!
  
YOU SHOULD CONFESS To Giving STRESS ...
To People Who ... Placed Faith In You ... !!!
  
It's My Belief You've Long Deceived ...
Just Like MAGGIE The ... " IRON Lady !!! " ... !!!
  
NEW LABOUR ... ???
Or A NEW TORY ... !?!
  
She Must Be PROUD of What You've Achieved ... !!!
DESTRUCTION of Peace And Unity ... !!!
INCREASING Costs of ... " Energy " ... !!!!
  
Merging Police To Keep The Peace ... !?!  
Because of VIOLENCE On Our Streets ... !!!
  
" Your Stressed Tony ... !!!! "
  
" You're STRESSING ME ... !!!! "

And Placed STRESS On Your OWN Country ... !!!!!
By Following GEORGE ... And His Armies ...
To Places Where You Should NOT Be ... !!!!!!  
  
Right Now Even Fools Can See ...
  
You've Fed Your People ...
...... " FALLACIES " ...... !!!!!!!!!
  
Now We Face Some ROCKY Seas ... !!!
  
EVIL Deeds From EVIL Breeds ...
  
GREED Leading To Poverty ... !!!!!
While You Retire Gracefully .......................
  
Feeling STRESSED ... ?
You Must Do ... " BLESS " ... !!!!!!!
  
Your Pension Fund Must Have MILLIONS ...
And Holiday Homes ... Under The Sun ... !!!!!!
Well Hold On Son I'm NOT Quite Done ... !!!
  
You've Left England To Police With Guns ... !!!
STOPPING Who They Like For FUN ... ??!!!??
  
Blacks Now Face NEW Racism ...
From Policeman ... Holding BIG GUNS ... !!!  
  
With Little Defence From Random Checks ...
Where Incompetence May Leave Some ... " DEAD !!! " ...
  
OKAY ... Nuff said ... !!!!!
What Was Said By Malcolm X ... ?
  
" By Any Means !!! " ...
  
Didn't Think He Meant THEM ... !?!
  
"Tony mate, you don't know stress !!!"
  
When Lawmen HATE ...
The Way You Dress ...
Your ... Darkened Skin ...
The Way Your Hair ...
Grows On Your Head ...
  
Trust Me Tony THAT IS STRESS ... !!!!!
  
You've Got A CHEEK To WASTE Money ...
On Films About YOUR Days of Stress ...
While You Make Pounds ...
You Politicians DO Confound ... !?!?!
  
You Talk of STRESS Within Your Job ...
Well HEAR THIS Gents ... !!!!!
  
...... " Big deal, so what !" ......
  
Join The Club Most Folk Are STRESSED ...
Because of Stuff You've FORCED On Them ... !!!
  
They've Got PROBLEMS ... !!!
Because of Your CORRUPT Systems ... !!!
  
You And Your Friends ... !!!
Those You PROTECT From Punishment  ...
And EXPOSURE On ... " News At Ten  " ... !!!!!
  
Like .... " Blunkett " ....
You Should Simply QUIT ... !!!
  
BEFORE You Get ...
ANOTHER Cheque At OUR Expense ... !!!
  
INCREASING Debt RISING Interest ...
Are NOT The Things That Bring YOU STRESS ... !!!!!

"Ahhh of course they do !" ...
  
I Should of Guessed ... !!!
  
"Bills to pay, Tony I say,
you really should put cash away !
Expense accounts are not  the way,
to pay for all your holidays !"
  
COME ON PEOPLE USE Your BRAINS ... !!!!!
  
Financial Strain Like ... " Tony's Reign " ...
Has Been Arranged For Tony And His Friends To GAIN ... !!!
  
If He's Got STRESS But Rides NO TRAINS ... ?
His Stress Levels Should Be EXPLAINED ... ?!?
  
He Should Refrain From Making Claims ...
That Leadership Has Been A DRAIN ... !!!!!!!!
  
But Of Course Though Folks ...
The Job Has Given Him Rewards ...
  
Well Listen Mr. B ....
NO Applause From ME And NO Awards ...  
And That's ... NO JOKE ... !!!!!
  
How Much Have You Made ... ?
From FRAUDULENT Quotes ... ?!?
And How Many People ...  
Have You Left BROKE ... !?!
  
You've Got A CHEEK To Act As Though ...
Your Work Duties Have ROCKED Your Boat ... ???  
  
Now Listen CLOSE ... !!!
If The Job Was Too Much ...  
I'd of Wrote You A Note ... !!!
  
The Note Would of Said ...
  
"It's time to go,
don't come back to work No Mo' !" ...
  
I'm Sure The U.S. Would Give You A Desk ...
Working With Those Who Run Congress ... !!!
That May Be Where He's Heading Next ... ?!?
  
That's A Move I WOULDN'T Suggest ... !!!
That Might Just Push Some ... OVER The EDGE .... !!!!!!
  
Then Tony Would Know About ...
  
REAL ......

............ " Stress " ........... !!!!!
When I saw the advert for the film, it inspired this !
Ston Poet Dec 2015
Uhh,..(I can't sleep3)..(I'm up,Yeah2)..Uhh, Yeah..(I can't sleep3)..I gotta stay grinding more yeah..Uhh..(no I can't sleep6)..I (can't sleep3), I gotta keep writing till I'm dead & gone,yeah..Aye..(I can't sleep6),can't sleep...I gotta keep working hard .Aye..(no I can't sleep3)..(I can't sleep3), (can't sleep.3).Imma keep rolling *** , sativa..Aye..(I can't sleep, no I can't sleep4)..,I gotta keep grinding yeah, some more..,.Uhh, Yeah..(I can't sleep3)...no (I can't sleep.3)
No I can't homie..yeah I'm doing the most, Yeah..,
/I (can't sleep2)/3.
(I can't sleep3)..Insomnia, Yeah,..(I can't sleep3)..I gotta lot of moves & money to make,& I'm in pursuit homie..I can't sleep..I'm up..Yeah

Ayo, I'm spitting this dope man listen up..Ayo yeah I'm spitting the truth my ***** so blast this **** loud..Uhh


I'm in my Trap man, rapping & packaging this hard to flood the streets wit, I'm investing in my tounge *****,..I'm slanging dope with communication, Yeah my language, ***** its a craft to do what I'm doing,.. I'm so good with writing raps..I should apply to Atlanta Art Institution, (I can't sleep2)..(I'm up2)..man I'm too focus, I'm so hungry, physically & mentally Yeah,..(I can't sleep2)..(I'm up2)..just like a crack fein chasing after its last high mane,..I'm tryna get higher, I'm so tired of rolling  ****** up, so I'm grinding, so I can have alot of dat funky stuff up in my brain, no I can't get enough of the funk my *****..Yeah,Yeah

I'm in full speed,.. I'm going so fast homie,.. Like a  NASCAR race mane, you demons better stay outta my way or yo *** will get raned over just like what Tony Stewart did to Kevin Ward..R.I.P homie, no disrespect to his family, I'm just saying don't mess wit me..because (I don't play3)..Naw mane..I'm bout what I say,..Noo..(I don't play3)..Imma grown *** man, no baby steps no more homie..Aye
(I can't sleep2)
I'm up (all day
2)..
noo
(I can't sleep2)
I got money to take & make..noo
(I can't sleep
2)
I got alot of moves (to make2)..No
(I can't sleep
2)
I got alot of **** (to Bake..2)
Aye..


Aye, I stay up 24/7..,I gottas to get it...I'm very impatient, I'm pushing my self to the limit, I'm pushing my self no peer pressure, **** who else gonna push me nobody else will man..Ayo
I'm inspiring the youth homie,Ayo..Im inspired by myself, mane I look in the mirror man, & be like (got ****
2)..You the truth Drew, Fo show..(Yeah4).., & I ain't cocky or conceited, my ***** I motivate myself..Yeah..Aye

(I can't sleep
3)..***** I'm up next..(Uhh2)..(Yeah2)..(I can't sleep2)..** I'm the best..(I can't sleep3)..***** I'm the man Yess..(I can't sleep2)..I'm up & writing hits *****,..(I can't sleep3)..,I'm grinding.. (I can't sleep3)..I'm  searching, tryna find where success lives..Yeah I'm hungry, like a lion..Aye..(I can't sleep3)..

Imma diamond, Im so fly man,..I'm so higher than anyone else,..yeah Im so unique, Ayo, Imma  g, Aye (I can't sleep3)..its so hard to get some rest like I lived (on the streets,3) Ayo, I'm tryna feed (my family3) mane,..I'm fighting for my family like John Q homie, I'm doing the impossible anybody could of done it tho, but these ****** just to ***** for the part so Im playing the role, Ayo, I'm staying true to myself always no matter what, I will never ever fold, I will never change for the fame, **** having  a fraudulent sound, forget a major label, nobody bossing me around, I'm commanding myself dawg..I'm in a position of authority no Cartman..Uhh, Imma young southern ***** wit a  Midwest Flow..,Aye, I roll up for depression, that's my medicine Yess..mane I ain't regreting nothing , I'm looking past all of the dumb **** I  ever did do, I'm growing stronger, like the Hulk , Im teaching myself control..but im still uncontrollable..Aye my rhymes make parents uncomfortable, **** it have your lil son trying dresses on, I did the best that I could do..I'm here to uplift you  & inspire, not take you to hell  dude..Uhh

(Don't try me
2)..*****, OFTR we camed from nothing now all we do is get stares , the people finally starting to notice what's real, man we was famous in our minds already, (confidence,)
when the doubters & haters thought of us as a bunch of lazy *** ******..man, we was winning even before they ever started to  take notice, Aye, we was winning even tho we  took alot of losses,..OFTR we prevail, Thank God for everything without him I would never had wrote this..Ayo
You gotta learn from the past mistakes,  move past them, & try to never make them again mane dawg, never take any breaks, keep practicing, untill you fall out, & lose consciousness..never give up, & never give in , Yeah you win some, Yeah you lose some, but your heart still beats,..so keep breathing.. (Go harder, Yeah2)..*****,.. Uhh

(I can't sleep
3)..,Naw (I can't sleep3)..Insomnia,.. Uhh, play this song over & over again if you  are feeling down, sad & depress ..I'll uplift ya..Uhh..,..I can't sleep

I can't sleep
6..
I gotta stick to what I know.
I gotta stay on go..
stonpoet.tumblr.com
LJW Jun 2014
The patterns
of rainfall and afforestation,
the veins of village streams—
I colored them in
as I saw fit.

My beloved spiders
wove a second pattern
on top,
which I approved
before leaving.





Günter Eich (1907–1972) was a noted German poet and radio dramatist who won the Georg Büchner Preis in 1959. His translator, Michael Hofmann, is a poet and German translator; his versions of Eich will be out soon in book form in Angina Days: Selected Poems of Günter Eich (Princeton).
Deathreat Man sent Mrs.Deathreat to the continent,
dud doves smuggled thru the Chunnel in her clungeal
cavity, but even the Olympicwatchdog’s  
human snifferdogs wouldn’t conduct a narc
nosedive into Mrs.Deathreat’s  Annsummersnumber,
coz the amount of drugs in the drugs
the Deathreats deal is next to nil,
contrabland, all the scorer chorma
minus the highness.  Mrs. Deathreat
was mule with a hole, she was
Muffin the ****, but hug drugs up her clopper
kept the pillheads of La Rochelle
social clodhoppers who danced like Joecocker,
so they sent
themselves to bed early outta pity
for their own unhappening, nonfunspasming
hips. They wanted to be eating their upperlips,
they were brownedoff that the grey gradegetter their mums
had maximised with Omega3 hadn’t had its chips,
in no danger of being Gallic Gatecrasherkids.
They wanted to be braiMDaMAged,
Bezzes in berets on duracell drugs, balistically
blissed enuff for
Balearic drill ‘n’ bass drum ‘n’ gluegun
bhangraggabba Gangsta Abba or the Triphopscotch,
but they were no buzzing sitting ducks
for whatever vibranium vinyl
spun like Lindablair’s head or whatever Tonyblair eversaid
on decks that layer beats.
On the plusside, none of Mrs.Deathreat’s fleeced Frenchies
would do a Leahbetts, but that would not console
the Pillheads of La Rochelle, les herberts, still tediously
on their cognitits unless the Angel Ravey L
- pushermanifestation of the patron saint of getting mashed -
pharmathaumaturgically ticks
up some of that numinous ****
for neurotransmission,
a miracle drug effective without ingestion, Immaculate
Consumption, when all the laws of biochemistry go Petetong.
But, alas, riboflavin and ibuprofen are harder and more
happycore, send
cerebrum more signals of fly bo’ ravin’
than shonk Es Mrs.D
squelchily dealt from out crotchless unmentionables.

Now, the technotarantist addicts d’Avignon,
les personnes adonnees a ‘aving one
from Provencal Pontefract-on-the-Rhone
(where Picasso pimps scrimp
coz Cubist hookers ain’t lookers),
les avaleurs of mitzies and bishies
rather than le plonque (rouge ou blanc),
wou’nt ‘ave it if they weren’t ‘aving it
in that wellaged wine of a town.
They’d be sent spare
if Mrs.Deathreat dared ****** ’em there
with fraudulent Franglais avowals that they’d
‘avoir it large, Pierre!’
There’d be stormin’ Bourbons in Avignon, yeah,
if they couldn’t electwitch to DJ Saintvitus
because of some ***** doves. Adamdroppers
in Avignon know their discobiscuits
from their biscodiscuits, comprende?
But the Pillheads of La Rochelle? Quelle pillocks!

XTCtablet escroquette sent by her deaththreatening
not dishwashening husbandit,
madame des merde mollies sent **** shivers
of letdown lucidity thru the cuddle puddle jungle
drums that pure vexes the cortexes of Senors Beeg
amongst thizz biz fixers, the Cortez Bruvas.
As young fluff she'd boasted more
overzealous sweaty inspectors than Ofsted,
but now Mrs Deathreat's hairy goblet
would be of sweet ***** adams interest
to the syndicate if only her ***** adams were sweeter.
Funnily enough, fact her serpent socket
is no Aladdin’s cave of Hacienda Hedex,
but more an  Anadin Cove of dummy drugs
has dem Cortez muthas jumpy thugs.
Traffikers of Lover’s Speed in hock
to the Sam Madrid mob, they express
narcommercial concerns that mock mookers
up her thrushenflamed damianduff
are so cuttonaffall, it could senda fad for temperance
thruout chemiculture of a continent,all
the bluerooms and dancetents of Europa
being once burnt, twice straight
(or turn respectable taxpaying pissheads,
staying in caining an unprohibited crate or eight,
pickling themselves to preserve the State).
But before suspicion  about the serotonocidal
supplyline snowballs, before the Cortezes
even depart the chilloutroom to ****,
or at least put les frighteneurs on her and the tangy
baggie of humbug harryhills, whack weekenders
up her suspenders and past her pudenders,
his missus was already on the homewardbound Eurostar
- for her darling Deathreat was a disastrous
domestic selffender, who'd sent a guava
to the vet's and put her Pomeranian in the blender,
tho' pertainian to value of life he's vilipender,
so to animedic aforementioned prolly not
Snoopy smoothie sender,
unless off the invoice for the guava's jabs
it might scare up a nice little subtrahender.
NRIKO Aug 2018
How wonderful it is, I say, to the retreating
yellow form of your feelings I mistook
For Infatuation, you’re a romance heckler
far and far away from
Accepting fruition within classrooms and
being labelled as an angel.
And it was within forbidden hell of
euphoria, I found
You nestled in the society’s psyche
neither content or calling
For help. Neither did you neglect the
pink spectacles of the society,
Even found yourself moulding and moulding
into a fungi green
That I could not recognize, within that
half-sanctum, half-oasis I found you
absentmindedly
Bathing in, you were already out of
its waters.
And I was no longer seeing you within
the dry desert or the sibilance
of my desires, but instead
in cement woodlands and
Within artificial communication and
Intimacy I gave willingly.
Now how does it feel, to have your
heart in one piece,
How does it feel to not use
whipped cream to fill in the
Cracked, salty sections of your
own ***** that,
Out of confusion, continues to
play its favorite song but
in all the wrong beats.
Somehow within cacophony I found
you, nestled, comfortable in
Bogus, fraudulent wings of a former
angel- who now weeps under our
Feet in theory- Somehow, somewhere,
I lost you within an epiphany
That reeked of bliss and pleasure-
Somehow, we end up losing
Twins of the heavens when all is well.
How wonderful.
How wonderful it is, I say, to your
lost, secretly-weeping figure
That I can’t tell whether transparent or
yellow your figure is.
But I keep speaking-
“Oh, how (falsely) wonderful it is-
To love the first angel I’ve set
my eyes upon-
“Oh, how (falsely) wonderful it is-
To lose an angel, no matter how
phoney, to a social heaven.”

- enriko. aug 5. 11:45pm
WS Warner Feb 2012
Miscommunication
serendipity, anticipation,
blurred reality -
lost in the dialect
of a dream,
in pursuit
of Love
find callous irony;
subversion of desire
what's it all about?
to know and be known.

Mere seconds
of scrutiny
inferior,
I am shown.
Her appraisal
eviscerating
my warm flesh,
her tilted criteria
supplanting the interior,
voluble with
saccharine neologisms
and preferences
for the exterior.
(not mine)
Ironic was my
attraction to
her brain.

Lines, features
and symmetry,
image - the commodity,
aesthetics, the
currency
in this transaction,
cursory liaison,
incendiary,
collapse of the
insurgent ego -
there was no
us in the
the affair of
nothingness.

Bruised in
abasement,
I'm not the one -  
I thought I was.
Hyperbole -
the center
of delusion,
a curious
diversion -
avoid my life.

The allure of
the illusion,
transference,
the ordinary to
the romantic,
the perfect other.
Searching, the
absorbing project -
aquiring wholeness,
did she reject me?
I rejected me.

The escape into
fraudulent
sadness,
to mourn,
is to displace,
the disowned heart
by self is tragic.  
Should
I not mourn for
the one I'm
deferring?

Inside of me
It's safe,
to lament
the loss of
identity -
tension is agony
without resolve
sequestered,
in my pain,
self-imposed
familiar terrain,
upon retrieval,
awaking in
renewal,
mystery and destiny
providentially,
I am free.
Absent Minded Jun 2010
Dying the death
of a king
turned breathless pauper
thats recently watched
all the grains of sand
pass south
through orbs of glass
towards the grave.

Reaching to the heavens
from the floor
entwined in wails
and deep sunken moans
that labor in pangs
of anxious moments
which last for hours
and are only ever superseded
by short fits
of shaky sleep.

Hope and its former entitlements
simply derailed-
shattering each
of an un-numbered tomorrows
leaving them void
of how it was,
even though
that may have
been better
for sure.

However
when grand vistas
are moved by heavenly verse
or demonic desires
and the clouds are blown
east toward the sea,
its only done
so that the past-
has a chance
to dissipate.

Then appearing
far to blessedly late
is the painting
under the painting
of that holiday
when things seemed stronger
When sadly
it now clearly seems
we were silently
slipping away from one another:
one sliver of space at a time.
Manas Madrecha Jun 2015
English Transliteration - Satya Sarvopari Sarvaat

Jhoot bolna aam ** gaya, par mahimaa satya ki kam naa aanknaa,
Bheetar ki naitiktaa ko, vivek-nayan se zaroor jhaank naa...

Man aur vani ki akhandta, vibhakt ** ne naa denaa,
Jhoot par avalambit **, swa-nistha khone naa denaa...

Kapat aacharan ko apnakar, aarthik sukh hi paaoge,
Sabal charitra banaa lo gar, toh nityaanand tak jaaoge...

Vani par jiske satya sadaa, vachan shakti siddh hogi,
Mukh se upji har shabdaavali, vaastav mein sanghatit hogi...

Abhisandhi ka gar karo prayog, jo logo ko sambhramit kare,
Toh unki nahi, tumhaari mithya, jo aatm ko hi dooshit kare...

Jab jab kanth kare dhwani, prajwalit ** satyajyoti se har baat,
Jhoot gaun samaksh uske, satya sarvopari sarvaat...

- - - - -

English Translation - Truth is above everything

Speaking lies have become common, but don't underestimate the significance of Truth,
Do peep into your inner morality through the eyes of conscience...

Do not let the integrity of Mind & Speech be dissected,
By adhering onto fallacy, do not let your self morale be lost...

By embracing fraudulent behavior, you will only get monetary pleasure,
But if you build a brawny (strong) Character, you will go till Eternal Happiness (Salvation) ...

The one who always has Truth on his Speech, the force of oration will become effectual,
Every vocabulary out from his mouth, will constitute into Reality...

If you do use deceit, for misapprehending the people,
Then the illusion is not theirs, but yours, for it pollutes your own self...

When ever the throat makes sound, let every talk be illuminated with the light of Truth,
Lie is inferior in front of it, Truth is above every thing...

- - - - -

Original Poem - सत्य सर्वोपरि सर्वात्

झूठ बोलना आम हो गया, पर महिमा सत्य की कम ना आंकना।
भीतर की नैतिकता को, विवेक-नयन से ज़रूर झांकना।।

मन और वाणी की अखंडता, विभक्त होने ना देना।
झूठ पर अवलंबित हो, स्वनिष्ठा खोने ना देना।।

कपट आचरण को अपनाकर, आर्थिक सुख ही पाओगे।
सबल चरित्र बना लो गर, तो नित्यानंद तक जाओगे।।

वाणी पर जिसके सत्य सदा, वचन-शक्ति सिद्ध होगी।
मुख से उपजी हर शब्दावली, वास्तव में संघटित होगी।।

अभिसंधि का गर करो प्रयोग, जो लोगो को संभ्रमित करे।
तो उनकी नहीं, तुम्हारी मिथ्या, जो आत्म को ही दूषित करे।।

जब जब कंठ करे ध्वनि, प्रज्वलित हो सत्यज्योति से बात।
झूठ गौण समक्ष उसके, सत्य सर्वोपरि सर्वात्।।

© Poem by Manas Madrecha
This poem was first published on the blog 'Simplifying Universe'
(http://www.simplifyinguniverse.blogspot.com) in May, 2015.
Classy J Nov 2018
Intro: You know, I don’t care what you’re saying about me.
For I’m not an insecure ***** like you but I do got to thank thee.
For if it weren’t for thy vile venom spitting I wouldn’t have a reason to enact my lyrical terrorism!
So, you only have yourself to blame for this ****, so don’t say I didn’t warn ya.

Verse 1
Uh, yeah let’s talk about it!
Can’t contemplate, the vicious state that contrary to popular belief I’m not a basket case!
Can’t misuse the time I got so here I go to vanquish these fraudulent thots!
Started an unfocused freight train that charged towards the lucid dream because I couldn’t assimilate!
In that time, I was so focused on changing everyone’s snot ridden hypocrisy about reality being Camelot.
I know I’ve also ****** up a lot but that’s something I had to face!
It’s not any of your business so stop ripping off my skin then rubbing in the salt!
I still have a goal in mind to destroy discrimination that incriminates my people,
by putting em on the hot seat.
So now that every one is up in arms I got my chance to aim at the sweet spot!
Everyone is hungry to be the fittest but not everyone has time to think how to be the smartest.
To strike will the fire’s hot or wait for the embers to spark and settle is the true test for an artist.
Who cares about the lines when it was never rightfully drawn in the first place?
Who cares about what spot or space is for you when it’s all been delegated to the privilege of a certain race?
I can only undergo so much disgrace So, sorry but I’m not willing to have my people’s history erased!
Free speech is going to be a ***** for some and a tool for others, I guess it all depends on that person’s poker face.
Inequality is frequent not just in Canada or The United States but every country, province, and common place.

Verse 2
You want the real, raw, unfiltered Classy J well here you go!
Uh, Tell Trudeau to kiss my *** and stop ******* Trump’s ****!
While you’re at it can you tell your father that he’s a ******* stupid *****!
Also, totally forgot but can you tell Kim Jon un when he’s shafting you that he’s a ******* Buffoon!
But’s that’s enough about ******* politics let’s talk about ******* rap artist’s who think they’re hot but really, they so tacky and obsolete like the Zune.
To mister bi-racial we get it you’re into being superficial but’s honestly with you being so focused on being a ****** your delivery showcases the truth that you’re really a cringy ******.
Just face the fact dude that people will only see ya as a juggaloed Dolph Ziggler.
Uh, Now on to the next!
Dear mister Young moolah imma be front, you look like diseased uvula with the lyrical skill comparative to that of an elementary grade schooler.
Now to address the biggest flacky ***** in the game the not so slim shady.  
Here’s the matter Mr. Mather’s you look like a hobo who ***** guys off around the corner,
maybe that’s why you always diss homos.
Because youse a **** trapped in your mommas’ closet,
and if wasn’t for Dre’s hand up so far up your *** you wouldn’t be as popular of a puppet.
Oh ****, Shady you so focused on Doctor Dre and acclaim to fame that you forgot about Hallie.
****, and speaking of Hallie, I feel for you girl because just like you I also didn’t have a dad there for me.
I’m a man of war so every rapper got to get their **** together and better be prepared to me seriously.
For Imma slit their throats and turn em inside out rigorously, and I make sure those tardy cats will rule the day they ever had curiosity.

Verse 3
Just remember my people were here before you, and will be here after you!
And I’ll be here to destroy any of you who dare to pursue native issues!
Or if I’m just bored and feeling like killing you!
However, if I forget about dealing with you, I’m just to busy to properly give a **** about you!
It’s not just revenge, I see it as using justice by retorting with my wordplay to cleanse ya like shampoo!
But I’ve spent enough time dissing freeloaders, for it gives their ego’s too must **** exposure!
I won’t coaster to these composers, for a chauffeur can’t gain an advantage over a soldier!
I wont lower myself to these grouchy Oscar’s, who hunt for Grammy’s;
or as I refer to these events as pedantic half ***’d statements for excepting grandiose toasters.
Why bother, for it’s so annoyingly stupid that I would rather waste my time watching a movie featuring Adam *******.
So, **** this glass ceiling that defines and dictates what makes up a talented rapper.
I may not be a ******* goat but at least I’m confident enough to go out in my birthday suit and retain my composure for being dapper.
That’s the synopsis of my classy brain, and though it may be insane I’m willing to ride this hurricane!
To make sure you know my name, but yet not let myself get engulfed in the flames.
Ignatius Hosiana Feb 2016
Despite everything that's happened
Despite the mistreatment of our own
Despite the suppression & oppression
Despite the mambas in big numbers
Despite the silencing of the nation
Despite the heavy deployment on the streets
Despite the gas that our eyes mistreats
Despite the despair prevailing in the air
Despite the scare,the arrests that are unfair
Despite the government condemnation
of those battling our incarceration
Despite the fact that some are starving
because electronic mobile money transfer is off
Despite the looming loss and fraudulent tally
Despite the gloomy faces we all wear, the sully
Despite the rage burning through us for many a reason
The main one being the compromise of our peaceful
struggle out of the manacles of this corrupt regime
despite many being voiceless in prison
Despite the treacherous Telecom companies
assisting the tyrant keep us on our bruised knees
Despite the malnourished kids along the streets
despite the expectant mothers fearing for their life
because the best Hospital in the country has no doctors
& the disgruntled interns trying to help and teachers
despite the lives lost in the election scuffle fueled by police
despite the opposition constant arrest and release
the rise in the prices of everything but value of nothing
despite the arrogance of those profiting from the tyranny
despite the dishing out of cash to bribe voters
& the lining up of cattle to have more votes than voters
Despite the furthering hope for eminent change
despite the lead of the incumbent by a ridiculous range
I still love my country and I still believe change will come
even if the despot rules for a thousand a term
I still believe a day is coming when we shall say
"At last, the man is history,this country is now for the people"
I dream of that day, it should have been yesterday
But despite the fact that any dictatorship
tends to want power for permanent keep
Someday from the fountains of change we shall sip
I still believe,albeit such freedom isn't a one day trip
On behalf of all who turned up to cast their votes
thank you for not just talking but also walking
thank you for the courtesy you're giving to the next generation
at least we know we shall have answers in clear narration
to our children and their children, each and every question
Don't give up...to me the fight is just started
And still, even a president has got but one neck
Change is guillotine, someday it catches up
Don't give up for you have come so far and see so much
If you were about to surrender, I hope this your heart can touch
Despite all the challenges our struggle is facing
Let's stay focus toward justice and fairness chasing
Yes, we have fallen more than we deserve
it may feel but someday someone will appreciate your love
One Uganda, one people... in change we believe
For God and my country, I love Uganda
I love you all...Don't give up
For everyone in struggle against dictatorship. I'm proud of you
Classy J Sep 2016
Yeah this rap goes out to them groveling phony fraudulent rappers, who think they some hot ****, but really their rhymes should be flushed down the crapper. I won't pitter-patter over the rap games floorboards; I bust through it and slice them up with my sword. Rap today has decayed, laid to waste by auto tuned ****** fruity puffs that only care about getting paid. So despicable, yet so typical for this day and age, creativity is deadlocked away underground in a cage. Only the critically insane ******* ever try to resurrect the rap game, because most get into bed with the devil so they can achieve easy fame. Illuminati in the media, in the music, and in the congress, corrupting the youth as if they were pawns as if life was like a game of chess. Oh father if there is a father up in heaven, we need help, I tried dialing your number but there mustn't be any service up there in heaven. Are you hearing me, I tried to show the corruption, but it keeps getting covered up by this convoluted industry. Yeah I went there, what you going to do, you just some phonies with some really low IQ's. Yeah I said this was going to be a Diss track, that points out how all this worldly **** is super whack. Fake rappers, fake society, trying to look real and happy in their greedy nobility. While other starve to survive, literally, but I forgot that the majority don't give a **** about minorities. Forgive me for all the honesty; I know I should probably see a specialist in psychiatry. **** it if go off the handle every now and again, I'm not here to make friends with filthy pagans. I'm just here to establish my lyrical ministry; I'm here to challenge everything and everyone's dignity and humility. I'm not in for cheese; I'm only in it because I want to shake raps monochrome foundation to its knees. Tear it down then build it up, there needs to balance just like pendulum, no time for sell out broken down ***'s. Diss the flow, get to know who the hell you calling out, otherwise it might come back to knock you out. Diss just business, its time to throw in the towel if can't finish, diminish all of those who can't handle this new improved business. Be a role model that anyone could look up to, and if you're not down to that then *******. Diss is the time to reinvent yourself, its ok if you need a little help cleaning out your shelf. Everyone deserves a second chance to change, to rearrange themselves so they can begin a new stage. Diss is not what you expected, but I hope you hear these words so that you can heal instead of staying infected.
Big Virge Sep 2016
"Order, Order !
We will have ORDER !!!
Order in the court !
or, the doors to this court
will be closed to cohorts !"

" Order "... is the call
within... our courts of law

Well here's...
Big Virges'... view...
of how these laws
will... Surely... be used...
and what... these laws...
will finally... Do... !!!

You see...

" Order's "...
being... " Summoned "...
in the... " Lords "...
and in... " The Commons "...

and... " The Cure "... to...
Current Problems ...
is seen as ... " Martial Law "... !!!

Police will now ... ENFORCE ...
without ... " Probable "... cause ... !!!

" Stops "... and ...
" Searches "...

upPED on ... Corners ...

What's their purpose ... ?
... " Public Order "...

But .....
Cameras on streets ... ?

CCTV ...... !?!

Isn't that meant to ...
" Keep The Peace "... ?!?

" OKAY, they're there
to make movies !
So, what's the deal ?
Can you paint the scene ? "

"Sir, move along please
your act's been seen,
our decision, you'll receive,
once you've been screened,
at the end of the week,
with your, Charge Sheet !
When it comes, answer truthfully,
because any deceit, may well
result in penalties, with no release,
especially if, we have to cheat
by using, yes, our editing team !"

You see ...
That's the ... " Trick "... !!!

So ... take these words ... " IN "...
and ... Read them ... CLOSELY ...
cos' these words ... Run DEEP ... !!!

Our lives ... BELIEVE ME ... !!!
are now on ... " Floppys' " ...
... Micro-Chips ...

and Drives named ... (C:)

So ...
What is humanity's ... destiny ... ???

Technology ....
Patrolling ... our streets ...

Armies ... of police ... !!!

Freedoms. .................................................... obsolete .... !!!!
for those ... wanting ... Peace ...

Sounds like a movie ...
I've seen of ... Armies' ... ???

" OH NO ... it's T3 !!! "

" ORDER is "... The Key ...

Restriction of ... Rights ...
to simply be ... FREE ... ?!?

NOT TO TAKE ...
Violence ... from our streets ... !!!!!

I'm YES ... A Supporter
of ... " Public Order "...

Let partying tribes ...
INDULGE in ... " Good Vibes "...

But .....
What kind of party ... ?
sees people ... Pull Knives ... !?!
or call for ... " Gunfights "... ?!?!?!?

But let's ...
NOT TELL ... " Lies "... !!!

Crime is ... on the rISE ... !!!

Crimes of ... ALL TYPES ... !!!
from ... Corporate Crimes ...
to young ... " Homicides "... !!!!

But .....
Ask yourself ... " WHY "... ?

Is it because ... ?
The young are now ..................................... Lost ....... ?!?

or ....
Could it be ... THIS ... ???

Highlighting ... Young Fights ...
as if .... EVERY NIGHT ...
Another kid ... DIES ... !!!

May simply ... "FIT IN"...
with Agendas ... Contrived ...
to simply ... Keep Minds ...
AFRAID ... and ... " DENIED "...
of living ... their lives ...
just like the ... " Rich Guys "...

" Directors "... who Earn ... ?
from ... " Fraudulent "... work ...

How many of them ?
will face ... " Stop and Search "... ?!?

Those in ... Governments ...
and ... " Corporate "... Hybrids ...
whose parties are ... "PRIVATE"... !!!!

with much ... " Nicer Climates "...

ENJOYING ... themselves... !!!
because of ... " Their Wealth "...
with women who ... " Sell "...
Their bodies like ... " SHELL "... !!!!
have done with ... " Oil Wells "... !!!!!

" Take Time ".....................................
Think it ... through..................................

But ....
Here's some more clues ....
as to why ... I Now Choose ...
to ... " Today "... take this view ...

Youth have died ... " Early "...
For YEARS ... on streets ...

But back then ... WEREN'T Worthy... ?!?
of ... PRIMETIME TV ...

But Now ... THEY ARE ... !?!

Terrorists .... are at Large ... !!!
is now the ... BENCHMARK ...

That's what's being ... " Used "...
to fill .... TV News ....

and ... " Sadly "... ABUSE ...
our LOST ..... WaYwArd ... youth ... !!!

Will .... " Eton "...
and ... " Harrow "...
REALLY SEE ... " Stop and Search "... ?!?!?

It seems ...
kind of ... " shallow :"...
to think ... They'll ... " Concur "...

Do ... " The Rich ...
have a ... THIRST ... ?
to walk with ... What HURTS ... !?!

Guns and Knives .....
amongst the ... " Rich Types "... ???

Why would they ... do that ... !?!
in ... " Daddy's New Pad "... !!!!!!

I guess what i'm saying ...
is ... " Stop and Search "... BLATANT ... !!!!!

is MOSTLY ... for blacks ... !!!!!!

"Well, blacks do the killing !
Which is shown now, to millions !
Everyday, all over the place !
So, answer that Virge !"

is what ...
" They "... will say ... !!!

Those who feed ... LIES ...
into minds and ... " Numb Brains "...

Those who ... DON'T THINK ...
BEYOND Links ... in the ... " Chain ".... !!!

The ... " New Order "... Preys ...
on ... Ignorant Strays ... !!!...

NOT those ... on streets ... !!!
but those who ... Compete ...
for a piece of ... " Their Cake "...

that has a ... FOUL TASTE ... !!!!!!

"ORDER ORDER !!!
We will have ORDER !!!"

" Must have ORDER ?
Man, just hold your corner ! "

Who exactly are ... " They "... ???
to treat people like ... " Game "... !?!

What makes you think ... ?
that they can train ...
the brain of a ... " Pig "...
to actually ... THINK...
and NOT behave ...
like some ... " Supremacist "... !!!
who's just ... Too **** ... QUICK ...
to suspect a kid ...
because of his ... Colour ... !!! ? !!!

" RACIST Mother F..... !!!!! "

"Order ... ORDER ...
You're out of order !!!"

" OUT OF Order ?!?
Are you a Coc' Snorter ?
I'm not a Big Baller,
or Gangsta' shot caller !
I'm just a straight talker
who's CRISP, just like Walkers',
when airing my views, about
Real Issues, that clearly confuse
and are used to abuse, our right to,
yes, choose, when and with whom,
we choose to make moves !

How would you like ?
to have THAT, done to you ?

My name AIN'T, Jack Horner !
Why should I be cornered ?
Searched and questioned
in the name of nonsense ! "

It's all a pretence,
to turn people against,
those they ... Don't Hate ... !!!

but ... each day ...
have to face,

from ... Council Estates ...
within the ... UK ...
to Projects ... They Blame ...
in the ... United States ...

These issues relate ...
and yes ... Correlate ... !!!

So .....
DON'T MAKE ... Mistakes ... !!!
and ... Mis-Read ... " The Game "...

What's happening ... There ...
is coming ... BEWARE ... !!! ...

Just think of it ... " This Way "...
George ... and ... Tony Blair ...........

They told you ... A WAR ...
was coming ... For SURE ... !!!!!

So ...
What'd you think ... NOW ... ?!?

Has ... THE WAR ...
Reached ... " Your Door "... ?!?

Or ...
Do you feel ... " Clowned "... ?

Or ...
Are you ... like me ... ?

A ... " Public "... ENEMY ... !!!

Who'll face men in ... " Gowns "...
because ... when I speak ...
I do so ... FREELY ... !!!! ...

and ... NO ...
WILL NOT ... Stand down ... !!!

" Order "...
is the call ...
as I said ... Before ... !!!

But ....
What is it ... for ... ???

for the ... " Weak "...
and the ... " Poor "...

NOT TO ... Fight anymore ... ?!?

or simply for ... " Borders "...
to keep them from ... " Hoarders "...
and ... " Midnight Marauders "... !!!!!!!

and TRUE LIFE ... Reporters ...
whose views they want ... "cornered"... !?!

because of ...
Their call ... to ... ENFORCE ...

.... " Public Order ".....

Listen Here :

https://soundcloud.com/user-16569179/public-order
My vision from some 8 years ago, of where we were headed, and sadly, much that I thought, has and sadly, continues to come to pass ..... These words are not those suitable for weak hearts, or those who like to play the well .... Y'all
know.

Listen Here : https://soundcloud.com/user-16569179/public-order
The real subjectivity of life is overwhelming;
Prospective consumes our frontal cortex
But there is no escape from this vacuum seal.
We see the faces of our own delight,
The know how of the here and now,
But we are too blind to look past our own perspectives.
Even when we fathom the hearts of others,
Our understandings are predisposed  to our own Identity.
Objectivity is a fleeting notion of reality, of truth
and its as though the ground we hold so dearly
Is constantly fleeing from our grasp.
Today we call this individualism,
a disconnect between one's self and society.
But I so selfishly and foolishly believe
that this chasm stems from being lied to so often.
Am I lying to myself or am I being lied to I do no know,
but it is important to understand that it does not matter
that nothing matters, because everything exists in my field of view.
The only question remains: am I correct
Or has the devil made me a fool?
But  this does not confirm nihilism
only hints at its initial potential.
Yet there are common truths that are irrefutable
no matter who you are, real or not:
The reality is the here and now,
No matter what ghosts or demons there may be.
They affect the consciousness constantly
indifferently to whether or not they are fraudulent or true.
And my experiences are true, the emotions are radical,
and even if everyone I know is a figment and interpretation,
they still hold a grasp onto my withering heart.
Wanderings
Big Virge May 2017
Exclusion or ... " Inclusion " ...  
Which Option Do You Choose ... ???
  
Do You Feel Like ... " Your Inclusion " ...
Is The Passage To Be ... " Cool " ... ?!?
  
Even If The Crew You Follow ...
Is FULL of ... STUPID FOOLS ... !!!!!
  
FOOLS Who Use ...
Their Snakeskin Shoes ...  
To Make Those CRUCIAL ...
  
... " Power Moves " ... !!!!!!!!!!
  
If That's You ... ???
Is That ... " YOU " ... ?!?
  
Are You ... REALLY ...
Being ...... " True " ...... !?!
  
Or ... Living Life ...
In A ... " Human Zoo " ...
  
By This I Mean ...
Your Self-Esteem ...  
Has CLEARLY LOST ...
It's ..... " Mr. Sheen " ...... !!!
  
You're In A Zone ...
Now FILLED WITH CLONES ...
Whose Facade ... Is TOUGH ...
When ..... NOT Alone .....
  
They Change Their Ring ...
WITHOUT ... Dialling Tones ... !!!

Because They Have ....
Such ... " Brittle Bones " ... !!!
  
They Claim To Have ...
A ... " HAPPY Home " ... !!!!!
  
But FEAR The Thought ...
of Life .... ALONE ....  
  
They Surround Themselves ...
With SUPERFICIAL Friends ...  
Throughout Their Week ...
And At .... " Weekends " ....  
  
So ..... ???  
Which Do YOU Prefer ... ?!?
  
Exclusion or ... Inclusion ... ???
  
A Life Without Confusion ...
A Life Without The Nonsense ...
of ... " Agenda-Lead Collusion " ... !!!
  
Do You Need Doors Open ... ?
  
Or ... Do You ... ? ...
Open Them ... YOURSELF ... !?!?!
  
Do You Want To Make A DIFFERENCE ...  
Or ... Get Yourself SOME WEALTH ... ?!?
  
I Try To Keep ...
My ... Mental Health ...  
By .................... AVOIDING THOSE ......
Who Have ..... " Foul Smells " ..... !!!!!!!!!
  
I Trust In ... " God " ...  
And TRUST ... MYSELF ...  
To Do What's RIGHT ... !!!
  
Or ...
BURN IN HELL ... !!!  
  
I BELIEVE In This ... !!!
  
YES ... Love Thyself ... !!!
  
Love Those Who ...
Do Love Themselves ... !!!
  
WITHOUT .... VANITY .... !!!
Or The .... " HARD SELL " .... !!!!!  
  
These People Make ...  
Our World UNWELL ... !!!!!
  
Look In Their Eyes ...  
  
They're TELLING LIES ... !!!!!
To Be .... " Accepted " ....  
By ..... FAKE GUYS ..... ?!?!?
  
Who Just Can't Take ...
..... My Diatribe ..... !!!!!!!
  
This View IS MINE ... !!!
It's NOT .... " Divine " ....  
  
Don't Feel Inclined ...  
To ..... FALL IN LINE ... !!!!!
  
Exclusion ISN'T ...
.... My Design .... !!!
  
It's Been ... " Designed " ...
By ..... " Simple Minds " ...  
Who NEED Inclusion ...
  
.... ALL THE TIME .... !!!!!
  
Why Do They NEED IT ... ?!?
  
They Can KEEP IT ... !!!!!!!!
  
I'm An ... EXCEPTION With Insight ......... !!!
EXCLUDE ME If ... You Feel That's Right ... !!!
  
At The End of The Day .....
We're ALL GONNA DIE ... !!!!!!
  
Those Who ... " Exclude " ...
Will Probably FRY .... !?!

Finding INCLUSION ....
Where ... LUCIFER LIES ... !!!!!
  
That's NO SURPRISE .... !!!!!
  
.... " Facades and Lies " ....  
Are Them DEFINED .... !!!!!!

But ... CAN'T DiSguIsE ...
Their Fraudulent Guise ... !!!!
  
It CAN'T Be Wise ...
To ... Always Hide ...
  
YOUR True Self .......
  
Why Be So Sly ... ?!?
  
That's A Question ...
I DON'T Face ... !!!  
  
Because I'm ... ME ...
WHEREVER I Be ... !!!!!
  
I DON'T NEED ..... !!!
These PHONEY CLIQUES ... !!!!!  
  
What About YOU ... ?!?
Are You ... TRUE ... ?!?!?
  
Or ... Do You NEED ... ?
These POMPOUS CREWS ... !?!
  
That's Up To ... YOU ...  
What Do You Choose ... ?
  
" Exclusion Or ... Inclusion "
On the basis of Trumps' dismissal of Comey this week, a good piece on, related subject matter....
Ellis Reyes Feb 2010
He is a bookworm humming marching tunes with a caribou.
They smell the sky, hear the sand, see the bright red light with their tongues.
Ed Ed the Knucklehead hides his hands in Ottawa.
Ed never hid his hands, he revealed them for all to see.
Splish-Splash, Splish-Splash, his webbed feet slap the tiled floor,tasting, tasting, tasting.
Walking, walking, walking
The foul-smelling wall of hunger screams empty codes at the freezing sun.
"Calculus," whispers Ed, "I want more Calculus."
The math will sneak by, he will feel its shadow; but not yet.
Sour triangles whirling openly greet the visitors.
Powerfully they mask their entrance embracing fraudulent identities.
The caribou now speaks his truth, "Ani rotzeh tachtonim."
Blindly the door opens and reveals all that the caribou desires stripes, rainbows, little flowers.
Down the long pathway to nowhere.
Trees in groves,
Kine in droves,
In ocean sport the scaly herds,
Wedge-like cleave the air the birds,
To northern lakes fly wind-borne ducks,
Browse the mountain sheep in flocks,
Men consort in camp and town,
But the poet dwells alone.

God who gave to him the lyre,
Of all mortals the desire,
For all breathing men's behoof,
Straitly charged him, "Sit aloof;"
Annexed a warning, poets say,
To the bright premium,—
Ever when twain together play,
Shall the harp be dumb.
Many may come,
But one shall sing;
Two touch the string,
The harp is dumb.
Though there come a million
Wise Saadi dwells alone.

Yet Saadi loved the race of men,—
No churl immured in cave or den,—
In bower and hall
He wants them all,
Nor can dispense
With Persia for his audience;
They must give ear,
Grow red with joy, and white with fear,
Yet he has no companion,
Come ten, or come a million,
Good Saadi dwells alone.

Be thou ware where Saadi dwells.
Gladly round that golden lamp
Sylvan deities encamp,
And simple maids and noble youth
Are welcome to the man of truth.
Most welcome they who need him most,
They feed the spring which they exhaust:
For greater need
Draws better deed:
But, critic, spare thy vanity,
Nor show thy pompous parts,
To vex with odious subtlety
The cheerer of men's hearts.

Sad-eyed Fakirs swiftly say
Endless dirges to decay;
Never in the blaze of light
Lose the shudder of midnight;
And at overflowing noon,
Hear wolves barking at the moon;
In the bower of dalliance sweet
Hear the far Avenger's feet;
And shake before those awful Powers
Who in their pride forgive not ours.
Thus the sad-eyed Fakirs preach;
"Bard, when thee would Allah teach,
And lift thee to his holy mount,
He sends thee from his bitter fount,
Wormwood; saying, Go thy ways,
Drink not the Malaga of praise,
But do the deed thy fellows hate,
And compromise thy peaceful state.
Smite the white ******* which thee fed,
Stuff sharp thorns beneath the head
Of them thou shouldst have comforted.
For out of woe and out of crime
Draws the heart a lore sublime."
And yet it seemeth not to me
That the high gods love tragedy;
For Saadi sat in the sun,
And thanks was his contrition;
For haircloth and for ****** whips,
Had active hands and smiling lips;
And yet his runes he rightly read,
And to his folk his message sped.
Sunshine in his heart transferred
Lighted each transparent word;
And well could honoring Persia learn
What Saadi wished to say;
For Saadi's nightly stars did burn
Brighter than Dschami's day.

Whispered the muse in Saadi's cot;
O gentle Saadi, listen not,
Tempted by thy praise of wit,
Or by thirst and appetite
For the talents not thine own,
To sons of contradiction.
Never, sun of eastern morning,
Follow falsehood, follow scorning,
Denounce who will, who will, deny,
And pile the hills to scale the sky;
Let theist, atheist, pantheist,
Define and wrangle how they list,—
Fierce conserver, fierce destroyer,
But thou joy-giver and enjoyer,
Unknowing war, unknowing crime,
Gentle Saadi, mind thy rhyme.
Heed not what the brawlers say,
Heed thou only Saadi's lay.

Let the great world bustle on
With war and trade, with camp and town.
A thousand men shall dig and eat,
At forge and furnace thousands sweat,
And thousands sail the purple sea,
And give or take the stroke of war,
Or crowd the market and bazaar.
Oft shall war end, and peace return,
And cities rise where cities burn,
Ere one man my hill shall climb,
Who can turn the golden rhyme;
Let them manage how they may,
Heed thou only Saadi's lay.
Seek the living among the dead:
Man in man is imprisoned.
Barefooted Dervish is not poor,
If fate unlock his *****'s door.
So that what his eye hath seen
His tongue can paint, as bright, as keen,
And what his tender heart hath felt,
With equal fire thy heart shall melt.
For, whom the muses shine upon,
And touch with soft persuasion,
His words like a storm-wind can bring
Terror and beauty on their wing;
In his every syllable
Lurketh nature veritable;
And though he speak in midnight dark,
In heaven, no star; on earth, no spark;
Yet before the listener's eye
Swims the world in ecstasy,
The forest waves, the morning breaks,
The pastures sleep, ripple the lakes,
Leaves twinkle, flowers like persons be,
And life pulsates in rock or tree.
Saadi! so far thy words shall reach;
Suns rise and set in Saadi's speech.

And thus to Saadi said the muse;
Eat thou the bread which men refuse;
Flee from the goods which from thee flee;
Seek nothing; Fortune seeketh thee.
Nor mount, nor dive; all good things keep
The midway of the eternal deep;
Wish not to fill the isles with eyes
To fetch thee birds of paradise;
On thine orchard's edge belong
All the brass of plume and song;
Wise Ali's sunbright sayings pass
For proverbs in the market-place;
Through mountains bored by regal art
Toil whistles as he drives his cart.
Nor scour the seas, nor sift mankind,
A poet or a friend to find;
Behold, he watches at the door,
Behold his shadow on the floor.
Open innumerable doors,
The heaven where unveiled Allah pours
The flood of truth, the flood of good,
The seraph's and the cherub's food;
Those doors are men; the pariah kind
Admits thee to the perfect Mind.
Seek not beyond thy cottage wall
Redeemer that can yield thee all.
While thou sittest at thy door,
On the desert's yellow floor,
Listening to the gray-haired crones,
Foolish gossips, ancient drones,—
Saadi, see, they rise in stature
To the height of mighty nature,
And the secret stands revealed
Fraudulent Time in vain concealed,
That blessed gods in servile masks
Plied for thee thy household tasks.
berry Nov 2013
'CONDEMNED' screams the offensive yellow tape
wrapped around my door like an angry snake

I'm a crumbling abandoned city apartment
and the letters of your name can be found carved into my scattered bricks.

The memories we shared were sweet,
but you've moved on now. To a newer part of town,
all gaudy gold and glowing neon and soulless silver.

Even though you're hypnotized by its fraudulent shine
I wonder whether you remember
the love and mortar that once held us together.

For these walls still stand tall
through countless stormy nights, scorching days and freezing evenings.
But I don't know how much longer I can last.

Because my very foundations were made with your smile in mind,
and they are sinking into the mire now that we are forced to stand alone.

But what need to you have for such antiquated architecture?
I have been replaced. Your new home is far prettier.
More efficient.

Even still, I hang on by crossbeams and rotting wooden studs
and hope that you will find your way back
to the home I forged for you here in my arms.

I rot and moulder in solitude
the memories that echo in my hallowed halls
the only comforts that keep me from collapse.

Far too proud to admit, though I'm sure
you see the bitterness of your absence
eating away at me like termites.

The lord only knows how I'd like to feel your feet
upon my wooden floors again,
but who am I to even dare to ask?

For now I am just a house
no longer a home
vacant
and alone
patiently waiting to be made whole again.


- r.j. & m.f.
this is a collaborative poem written by myself and my good friend ray (hellopoetry.com/-raymond-johnson)
grabbing her by throat hair he holds gun barrel to right eye with free hand she edges fingers into boot pulls dagger plunges it into his heart

i didn’t mean to do that i meant to do this

i’m trying to figure out how other people deal with disappointment of old age i guess they arrive at some settlement some settlement that eludes me

very few figure out meaning of their lives until it’s too late then become detectives trying to figure out whys if you wake up tomorrow you’ve got a shot at new day no one in this world knows what might happen

i believe people can do change maybe not their nature but spiritually emotionally intellectually psychologically i recognize change within myself i did could now never commit acts different from who i was more scared sensitive hopeful pure honest longing for love probably i sound corny all i want is mutual love adoration in way it was easier when i was thoughtless i got ***** i don’t know

poet must face every conceivable fear terror no matter how despairing risk walking away from table without chips

there are good people and bad people sometimes good people make bad mistakes sometimes bad people make smart choices

for decades he lived knowing no one valued him except his family collecting his paintings reading his works praising his efforts his entire career an inside job

her graying disheveled hair muddy smudged apron raw arthritic fingers she cooks meal washes dishes a million trillion dishes thankless life mom what’s for dinner

some people see it all coming plan invest i never saw any of it coming i never imagined

the sickly smell of grandpa’s farts lingers in room nauseating family

he held shivering abandoned puppy in arms she whimpered repeatedly he swore in that moment to protect her stood by his promise until he buried her

wild wolf chases him growling snapping nipping at ankles tearing jeans biting drawing blood he runs

pitiable old men everyone knows old men are impotent jokes with no pack to punch just harmless peevish impediments what good are they what purpose do they serve get the ******-freaking out of the road old man

riotous advancing mob overcome military police

sharing yoga class old man attending his skin thin as parchment bled i cleaned his blood from mat every class until he died

after puncturing her maidenhood reaching ****** he strokes head of 8 year old daughter good girl good girl daddy is so proud

skin him alive skin him alive little girl asks what’s different about poetry from standard writing grandpa answers i have no answers

not possible yet happening gradually suddenly amidst bribes bargaining lies government collapses citizenry unleash in anarchy yearning for change

Mom’s fogginess i sense it beginning in myself possibly inherited will i become like Mom there’s no one looking out for me Mom i’m looking out for you

after 30 or 40 years life is over don’t believe what they tell you

when i’m dead what will they unearth in my personal effects writings paintings letters emails bookmarks internet visitations or gossip accusations from those still alive probably allege another selfish decadent fool squandered resources missed opportunities misses the mark

maybe in 5 years i will live in New York City London Paris Tokyo Tahiti  with beautiful wife who will spread her buns want me to **** her grab my ***** at least once a day

there is a star in north sky that shines i understand you looking away when pain gets too great please look into my eyes when throbbing subsides

don’t make it any harder than it has to be please find it in your heart to forgive me i am so sorry

yup i’ve got cash guns friends in Canada Mexico Netherlands France first let’s make a run for the border  then later think about a boat

oh yeah one last remark ******* haters bigots greedy ******* all you big city fat cats small town big fish fearful suburban housewives over-cautious grannies gangsters politicians real-estate lawyers moneylenders fraudulent priests ******* all you movie actor phony smile celebrities cliché skinny jean cowboy boot rock stars all you left-wing right-wing tea-party outer-space inner-space freaks ******* i can’t don’t know how to explain myself ******* all
Raymond Johnson Jan 2014
the year is two thousand and fourteen and something isn't right

maybe it's related to the fact that there is no more history on the history channel

and the only thing the discovery channel wants to investigate
is the depth of our bank accounts

the word 'integrity' has become archaic. obsolete. unnecessary, simply, because nobody has any anymore.

whatever happened to learning for the sake of learning?

who was the sick greedy ******* who decided that it was okay to charge money for knowledge?

our youth are being put into ******* for the knowledge necessary to survive in this society

of inequality.

in the 21st century slaves toil away in classroom as well as coal mines.

and those who dare to resist the path of post-modern peonage laid before them are doomed to a life of minimum wage mundanity or constant criminal risk.

there is something to be said about the quality of our reality if we are constantly seeking mind altering substances to escape it.

i too have become a slave. and a large portion of those who read this message have as well.

our souls signed away at the dotted line, sealed within great paper phylacteries adorned with the sinister sigils of Sallie Mae.

the chains of our debt will never let go of us. even upon death our progeny will have to hoist our burdens on their shoulders.

and for those of you who know not of our *******, i bid you welcome, like a Brother greater than I once said:

"welcome to the united snakes, land of the thief, and home of the slave. the grand imperial guard, where the dollar is sacred and power is god."

if your total net worth rests below a cool few million i suggest you stay away.

silly me. silly me, silly me, silly me. after all this country was built on generation after generation of genocide, **** and fraud, codified into the laws we hold so tight and so high, how naive was i to even expect civil discourse and equality from a naturally sinister state?

cloaked in the fog of pure ignorance we the people paradoxically bear the weight of our fraudulent federal government on our backs while simultaneously parasitically depend upon it.

parapets and gaudy domiciles all built with the blood sweat and tears of the disenfranchised. soft music composed of the screams of children dying from predator drone hellfire missiles lilts through the hallways.

news flash: the illuminati and the reptilian overlords are not trying to control your mind.

this is not about pineal gland calcification and third eyes but about the systematic disenfranchisement and subjugation of every man woman and child in this unfortunate nation.

they impose harsh sentences on small time drug crimes and outsource our only sources of economic stability.
left with no upward mobility, we then resort to any means necessary to simply survive.

'the world is your oyster.' they say. and they conveniently fail to mention the fine print which emphatically states that you may only possess the oyster shucking knife if you are white, male, and upper middle class.

this is not about checking privilege and white guilt. this is about the way that this ****** up world works. about the sinister cogs turning behind the scenes.

and if you dare raise your voice in resistance you'll find yourself staring at cinderblock walls, spools of barbed wire, reinforced steel bars, and armed guards for the rest of your sad life. your enclosed inmate existence making the coffers of the prison-industrial complex even deeper.

some say we should raise our fists instead and fight. and i say to them good luck fight the world's most technologically advanced military in its own home territory. Guerilla warfare and armed millitias stand about as good of a chance and gorillas armed with sticks and stones when the enemy possesses satellites that can see your face from orbit.

and i hope you don't mine being despised by the public of the modern world when you're slapped in the face with that dreadful catch-all term that is 'terrorist'.

but we can't just sit here and let the vines of greed asphyxiate our vitality away.

so herein lies the eternal question that i pose to you:

what are we to do?
this is my first attempt at a slam poem
Tonight, whenst my soul wasth dancing about its walls,
I chall-enged myself to potter about th' halls.
Having adjusted my red shawl and added some more
tints of blush into my frazzled cheeks, didst I swing myself
out of my chamber.
A sleek rain wasth but mumbling outside; and evoked within me
a longing for domestic adventures-to **** th' silent drear of
th' dying evening! With only th' rain as its ember, flitting away
wasth its cold shadows, with shards of plainness around
its damp, frail body, awash in th' childlike pouring shower-
th' one t'at would betray it soon-and ended with a blunt
thump as th' morbid clouds hanging aloft, dyeing th' sky faithfully red,
but consoling in such irresistible ways! How I remembereth its leaving a scent
to my skin and constitution so soft, and indulged it away, so unlike
th' smug moonbeam-immaculate like th' stars, but unsettled and tumultous
at heart-and in th' lap of bleak, unsoundly thunderstorms would be torn apart.
So ventured I, downstairs! No soul was rolling around th' corridors,
in spite of th' lamps, t'ose yellow halos against
th' wooden walls. How I gleefully descended th' adjacent steep bars-
downwards, in a quiet stroll, whilst coolly whistling to my own *****-
to procure the merriment of letters-yes, th' abodes of t'ose ****** words,
unappalled yet by th' venerable worlds. And t'eir tiny chambers, t'ose neatly
glued; inked papers, flocked into t'eir serene boxes this afternoon-ah, by those
blokes so punctual, honourable indeed areth t'eir perseverance, strength,
and little carriages! With horses as divine, crowding people's lives
with th' ornaments of phrases carved within envelopes
in t'eir leather bags-an occupation so holy! It is-it is, indeed! Like a sledge
t'at never utters a complaint-or sheep t'at dares not to leap, or
wiggle, in th' threat of its young master, albeit grimaces of sickness,
and pain, pain as of giving mortal births, affordeth. And howeth it shalt invade
its listening hearts with blades of agony-whose sullen grass
is bitter but never to wither-a resemblance of long-living memory,
so dark but unspoken-and whose life is but willingly tethered t' th' snow beneath;
a pampered sea of whiteness with bonds of accusation
enshrined along its surface,
regardless of th' pure-hearted toil of th' reindeer,
and its honesty t'at so charmingly planted within its roots. Agreeable element,
just as it is! T'ose men so deserving of praise-hark, hark how t'ey clutched at my letters,
and gently shoved 'em forwards; amidst t'ose gloomy bits of chuckling dews!
Frosts t'at sent chills through th' afternoon's vigilant pains,
o, what dormant a serpent, as t'ey wert! But now wert t'ey inventing t'eir slots
out o' t'eir caves-andeth greedly rendering it more gratuitous
t' th' old man's eyes. Horrendous! Inescapable! Disagreeable! How t'is fate, but fate
t'at is intimate with wonder-obstinate in 'tis own credulity, and paths
of security, esteem, and actuality; fate t'at canst ot'erwise be unfathomable-
at th' most desirous times such as t'is!
Thrown was I into th' view of another, fancy who it was-
a former friend, about whom my heart once so dearly throbbed, and perchance
plentifully longed to meet! But as encounter, didst we-a river of grand, prosperous ambitions
and plots of weaving merciful fortune, andeth devious thirst for far precarious,
yet precious, lore-forgotten wereth thus our memories, and stepped away but we,
from each ot'er's undeniably hearty regions.
But he! How, this evening, with t'at pair of eyes
kind with endless blueness-blowing so handsome into my face,
t'at lake of golden hair, and skin so moist in its ripe, whole whiteness,
as bright as th' moonlit skies above-sensuous and translucent
in his searing youth, o my dear!
How he entereth th' door with t'ose passionate airs about 'im,
and abruptly captivated my soul! Atoned, hastily, wasth all my grief
and pangs of gloom, upon my laying my first sights on 'im! What a majestic being!
A charm so frank as th' most desired odour of nature;
and unbreakably calm in its greetings-a lure so powerful to my entire soul!
How decent, yet enticing, t'is gentleman to my comprehension!
How lovable wasth his manly voice-as he first attempted to speak;
blanketed and cheered most adorably
by colourful fogs of courage, waves of veritable determination-o, how a gaze
can be so tender into my heart!
O, but it now appeareth t'at I ought to doubt not
about falling in love again;
with t'ese new fits o' charms I've found,
of a soul t'at was but so long abandoned
whilst I let myself being disheartened-so cruelly
and unthinkingly, by that poor fiend! A brute, a lonesome wretch as he is-
whose love is but unworthy, fraudulent, to my eyes-
a rustic, odd liar! And let him but shrink
into nothingness; and be unthoughtfully buried within th' cold arms
of th' dismantled sun-wherein a wrathful furnace shalt he burn, and cry,
cry sorrowfully in deplorable hatred, with no-one else to shoulder his castigations
and bestow neither any ot'er love-nor pity, for 'im,
as th' wife whom his chest daintily adores
is but th' sin he has made, andeth th' ashes of his ungodly remains-
As cursed and woven away from t'is world by our kingly God-just as how she
hath misled him hitherto, and duly tortured wasth her by our new faith-
whence soulless was she left, a thin, uncrucial vapour of triviality-as most sane creatures
shalt know! How after t'at disaster of death,
damnation becameth her home and bower,
whereth howl wilt she like a prone elf-
andeth be th' mourning fire itself.
Minuscule Ego Jan 2019
Dysfunction and happiness
Don’t usually go hand in hand
But that describes you and I story
The wise-man n’ Elle, a soldier n Simi
A bad-*** movie in a broken DVD player
More than ever our thoughts burn hateful
And deep in our souls, the will begets cold
Sealing us close and everything left to feel
An illusion of end that tarnishes our peace
Cleaner we walk and little by little we lied
We each run a race to attain the crown
I, the heir of Christopolis: a half man
A king with no kingdom – a danger
And you: heir of feline, an anger
A shy queen with no freedom

With no changes - so I ask myself
Is this a sample of psychological fraud
That people uses sensual relations n’ beliefs
To sway their cause to others; positive or not
Let us redeem your soul n’ gleam thou purpose
Sell me thou beauty for luxury n’ fame, she says
But the boy had his way with words: he opposed
Curiosity is dangerous n' assumption is powerful
Staring within her eyes with an abominable face
He turn n’ stormed away with grace n’ disbelief
Struggling not to outcry in compelling dismay
Twas nice to desire, but hers is not a proper
Piece of human sexuality; a noetic disorder
The lesbians and gays - the political tool
A change in the city, a proactive lie

That errs up as Satan - a musical fool
First he sings: “I bring peace and wealth”
Next they proclaimed: “It is a Human Right”
Another piece of the puzzle of human sexuality
But so the Book quotes – an abomination I hate
“No man shall have intimacy with another man”
Let’s not rearranged n’ be lost – it cost our health
For war is better than the choice of homosexuality
They know they are doom, so they tend to mislead
Some sit in shelters n' compose fraudulent grants
Lies, patriotism n’ tradition to keep society inline
For as long as they can, so afraid to lose control
But wealth and health must go hand in hand
For we are more of a lion than the least
Quite divine and above every beast
"How are you? 25? Okay, why are you not 60? Yep! Why are you not 60?

Age is as insignificant as Gender. That's why you can't magically change your age - you can't magically change your gender and you definitely can't magically change your ***.

Proof me wrong.
Say No To Homosexuality in Liberia
M P Hill Jan 2012
Block art spray paint, of the bluest skies

Chalk murals on sidewalks, of the Nazca lines

Tattooed the word: "HERO" on his knuckles

The messages unsung in the daytime hustle

At night he acts out against the city's walls

Permanency of a marker's wisdom when it rains, for the bathroom stalls

Calling card full of nonsense knowledge, in the peoples' almost empty wallets  

Watches the world fall apart when they realize their government is fraudulent

Knew all along, but the warnings had gone unsung

Because no one could comprehend the things this hero had done



Soot covers the buildings where the blue once shown...      in vain

Chalk puddles' colors stream into gutters...      drained
Reece Oct 2013
Oh such lonesome lives in the west
When the sunshine stings bleary eyes
and telephones receive no calls
How does one survive in the city
When the angular buildings suppress creativity
and free-thought is despicable

See the man, laying in bed for days at a time
With ASMR videos playing on a smartphone propped against a pillow
and his arm draped over that pillow, imagining a body
Bob Ross love affair, the television drones
Each night spent alone, praying for passion, or acceptance, or anything
and joyous noise when paintbrushes glide evenly

A collective of poets, posing as one man
Fraudulent minds, each with distinctive style
and all with crooked broken teeth
Trumpets in the jukebox, cat-calls in the world
Outside the window children are playing
and he cries, for the years are growing weary

She peels skin from her fingernails, mindless on morning commutes
He stares from bus stops, train stations and runways
and never blinking, never blinking, never blinking
The intrinsic value of repetition falling short of artistry
Given that metal machines are perpetual
and when the crow lands on fences in the morning dew,
there is no more life in Ironville, not for me, not for you
I miss thee, I hath to admit
I want to witness again thy stunning smile so sweet
And how th' sun always kindly, and generously, touchest thy dark hair
Then shalt thou breakest into endless jokes and childish wit
'Fore rising a tender smile, as we greet each other by th' circular stairs.

I bet thou art still remarkable and stupendous as usual
Thou whom I'th known since last grey fall
By th' ponderous sleeping lake; in th' midst of a burly night;
Thou stared through me with a pair of unfathomable eyes;
as though thou couldst makest everything in my heart-better and right;
and yon, yon colourlessness of th' night, shinest so beautifully as butterflies.
Thou wert, indeedst, not th' paleness I had dreamed,
thou wert not bleak, thou wert not mean.
Thou still shined brightly though chilled and dimmed,
thou wert damp, but sunny-just like th' nearby shuffling trances
to which I had never been.
At times thou canst seem lazy, ah-but thou'rt indeedst not!
As just I do, thou liveth thy life from dot to dot,
thou leapest from time to time in my story,
thou, though far away, somehow always seem near,
and be sitting here idly with me and my poetry.
Thou might be close not to my ears,
but I canst listenest to thee; as thou eat and pray,
and as thou waketh, to every single inevitable day.
T'is life, which canst somehow be bitter,
shalt at times corruptest thy happiness and thy laughter;
wringing thee into false devotion and meanness,
but be sure, my love, t'at I shalt be thy cure;
I shalt be thy unhealed passion and all-new tenderness.
I shalt be thy first salvation, honesty and satiation;
I shalt be a scarf t'at giveth thee warmth, and thy hated mediation;
hated and dejected by t'is dreadful world, my love,
t'is world which knowest not t'at love is everything above.
And I shalt be thy heaven, and holiness,
and thy greenest grass when it is too dark,
as t'is world hurts and drivest away from frankness;
and within its grim sacrifice, lettest go of its single spark.
Ah, thee, thy innocence is just like my own soul,
but it is what makest thee divine as gold;
thou art ever pure, and incessantly pure,
and thy jokes and ventures and preachings flawless and true.
And in t'is weary life-which is sometimes faultless but unsure,
thou always makest me feel honoured;
makest me feel brand new.

Ah, Kozarev, thou art my immortal twin star,
and thy lips my sophisticated fragrant moon;
thou art my umbrella in yon idyllic heaven afar,
fade away not, but thou drifted away too soon!
My love, but sketchest again our undying night,
t'is time with a new ***** of light,
and giveth me comfort within which,
and flinch no more, for I shalt not flinch.
Thy genuinity is my nature,
thy childishness is my cure;
for t'ere are no more lips as naive as thine,
though t'ey oftentimes seemest spotless,
and t'eir toughness, seemest fine.

Ah, Kozzie, only fate t'at shalt makest out paths eventually align;
fate who hath sent me sweet prophecies, and a truthful bold sign.
Let me be thy grace, and thy sole, immortal lady;
let me be such craze, so t'at thou shalt always be with me.
I shalt be thy doll, and thy very own addict;
I shalt nursest, and cherishest thee every day of the week.
And joy, and its miraculous delight shalt be ours alone,
fallen fast asleep by night, and renewed by upcoming morns.
Together shalt we teasest every passing minute and hour;
and treatest all 'em nicely, just like how we deemeth t'at laugh, of ours.
And when nightfall greetest, sleep, my love, sleep;
thy red, innocent cheeks shalt I kiss; thy greatest dreams shalt I keep.

Kozarev, and fliest me again to th' melancholy Sofia,
wherein our peace shalt dwellest, and be cheered and alive.
But let me first fetch my old, talkative umbrella;
for Sofia shalt be full of rain; but one t'at makest it safe, and thrive.
Ah, Sofia, our little haven like yon nearby oak chatroom,
old as it is, but still-tenderer t'an t'is ever lonely gloom;
I bet Sofia is still warmer t'an t'is fraudulent war of my heart,
though it is, of now, far and sat by a land wholly apart.
Oh, Sofia, in which our love shalt be adequate, but still-inadequate,
for our love is more benign, ye' at times-more capricious t'an fate.
And it is raw, but ripe, like a mature cherry;
it hath neither tears, nor hate, nor brave worry!
Ah, my love; but again fly me, fly me, t'ere-
for cannot I waitest to live my life with thee;
and so promise t'at I shalt not bend, nor go else anywhere,
so long as thou shalt stayest, and liveth thy future years with me.

Oh, and I shalt forsaketh thee no more;
and disdaineth thee no more-thou art my sonata!
My delight liest in hearing thy sonnets be told;
thou sitting by me 'fore moonlight, down on th' starlit piazza!
Ah, Kozarev, please no longer makest my heart sore-
I am sick to death, I detestest t'is grief to th' core;
Burnest my heart's cries, and indulgest me in thy arms,
I shalt brimmest in thy glory; and gratefully lost, in thy charms.

As th' world turnest so weak and rough,
we shalt be th' sole ones to fall in love;
but our idyll is one t'is envious world cannot gather;
as it growest bleaker, as it turnest worse.
But Kozarev, having thee by my side shalt be enough;
and my days shalt be no more sad, nor tough;
Thou art th' candle, t'at lightest up th' life within me,
thou art th' candy, t'at livenest up all my poetry.
Samir Jul 2012
cliche, boring, bland and weak
based upon a foundation of chic
pseudo-intellectual

you distract from your lack
with your apathetic crap
entomology and intonation
i call it character *******

you do it too often, many of you
just be who you are so we can shine through

i just have to get this off my chest...
your subject matter concerns love
who would've guessed

it rhymes and chimes and deliverance isn't best
and if one skims just beginning and end
there is no need for the rest

lacking originality
either resolve or contradiction
not cryptic nor a riddle in sight
not an original thought nor display of risk

you can learn here from this one write
what you could never tell east from west
and even though, you'll be better so
it will never be
as clever as thee
so just hide behind your traditional text

its not that i seek to pick on the weak
its quite the contrary-

start over with command
so you understand
it is the fraudulent that i detest

it is lack of interest and tact
and i won't take it back
your technique is as the rest.

you slack in approach
you couldn't hold my attention
from the first line
to the next

no captivation
no eccentricity
no enigma
flooding, you are, a pest

parasitic in your relentlessness
attention seeking for all the wrong reasons
leading poetry to its death

you bore me truly
insincerely yours,
unafraid to best.

— The End —