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PrttyBrd Jun 2014
love generates kindness
trust generates peace
open hearts breed understanding
Äŧül Feb 2016
Their voice so harmonious,
Silent when no strings attached,
All the curves so very ****,
Smooth is their texture,
Admiring their beauty with fingers,
You seat them on your lap,
Putting their arms around your shoulder.

Tickle them hard to make them peck,
They touch your heart with their sound,
Nibbling your ears in between,
The motion generates friction,
Friction generates heat,
So icy sweet is her music,
All over, you script success.

I talk of my guitar here.
I now possess 2 guitars.
One is an electric guitar that I bought in 2009.
The other one is a new acoustic guitar I bought in 2016 as a replacement for my 2006 model acoustic guitar.

My HP Poem #1022
©Atul Kaushal
Love has Degree.

- A Faithful Person creates a Shield against Evil and repels it;
A Frightened Person generates a Whirlwind for Evil and absorbs it.

- It's no use to call your Neighbour's Tree a Wither
When yours is all burned-up to Cinders.

- Dumbness is more Arid than a Desert.

- Everything has a Head and a Tail.

- Life is Gold whenst one Prospers,
Life is Rust whenst one believes no Hope.

- I'd rather take Jealousy
Than enduring Hypocrisy.

- Children are God's Gems. Treasure it.

- Everyone is Famous,
From Poor to Rich
Your Light reaches the Clouds,
But some reach the Sun.

- Sin is a Total Poison to God's Grace.

- Man's tongue has certain taste;
God's Tongue has Every Taste.

- Deception is like a Light which reflects from the Mirror it hurt
Then strikes it back at the Source.

- Man is a Masterpiece:
A Shining Sculpture of God's Creation.

- Your Mind has Endless Travels.

- Anything has Hope when you are still Alive and Well
Till Death do you both Part.

- True Beauty is always grown beneath the Soil.

- Our Heart is a loving Pet
When fed with Love and Care
A Renegade, when studded with Stones
Of Hate and Harm.

- Fire is Strong when there are Sticks to burn it;
But when the Camper takes the Sticks away,
Will it still be Strong enough to Survive?
Jordan Rains Sep 2018
There is no other soul with a heart as pure as mine
I'm getting better with time at lying that I'm fine
I taught myself to cry in the silence with dry eyes
I break into a smile nimbly when my mind cries
And I have wrapped my pang in my ****** heart
Undying pain scampered at me as smarting darts
I start to hibernate and then more pain generates
Trapped in these blackouts, like young Norman Bates
I'm dying to get my soul out of this dormant state
Just a Gatsby in search for the one who reads heart
I keep eyeing at my heart. Asking, will it ever restart?
I repressed all my emotions and lingered to ask
How I'm gonna unmask my heart from this masque?
My soul interrupted and concealed my thoughts
Gave me a shield to protect me when unrest erupts
Self-doubt disrupts me downright, it corrupts my mind
And now when I think about all the battles I've fought
The ones I've won are only a few, quite a few I've lost
Did I learn anything from all the lessons I was taught?
Maybe I did, still, I regret the things that made me weak
Peace of mind is all I seek when they start to critique
These hidebound **** sapiens are all around
Populous solitude make me bound, I'm spellbound
Wandering to heckle in a Hamlet, they come at me
with a mallet when I jot down my rhymes- bright palettes
It doesn't matter to em- whatever I write is ******
I'm roving solitary in the crowd in search of a mantlet
I go around running in circles, makin' my back way around
Echoes of my mind forbid me to put down more words
Though distractional voices divert my mind
Trying to get rid of the soul who impedes my mind
Undying forces assure our writing proficiency
But the nocturnal creature pitilessly disavowed
Incredulous power instantly accepts things which I wrote
And the words spirit away from my heart to Far Far Away
I scribbled a few words for the opposing side too
But still, they tryna repress my words; *******!
Mortals are continuously humming around their "profound"
opinions- it's all noise but when I listen, I hear 'em sound
They are out of their flipping minds but I do care
what they all are sayin', I'm gonna find a way in-
to their crooked minds when they start weighin'
rights and wrongs from every single word I write down
They say my rights drown. Should I take a break now?
Nah! I'll never go down without a fight. You all clowns
Keep your half-crowns back in your freakin' pockets
When I put my pen to paper what happens is
like the explosion on the collision of two rockets
I was empty as a shell until your flair filled me up
You glared out of my heart, you thrilled me up
I push out all rage onto a page & it gave me courage
I'm gonna mock em out, preparing myself to knock em out
Time to lock down this scene, As you all have seen
what I've been through my rhymes, yeah I'm mean
Now gettin' ready for the final knockdown
I've stacked my courage to scoff them around, I mean
Every living soul needs to accept the fact
All human beings are open to criticize
But before you get ready to paralyze, try to visualize
At least try to understand what's goin' around
Everyone is going through some sting of the life
For me, writing it all down is the way of life
Joel M Frye Jul 2012
Strolling, wistful, through a thousand lives,
across the chasmed centuries gone past,
he calls her name; it never quite arrives
to fall upon her ear.  Just at the last,
she leaves the hall, or shutters windows closed.
The fading echoes rebound, fall, despair
upon the careless earth, alone who knows
how many times he's haunted up her stairs
and stood before her door, unwilling hand
hung limply at his side. The heavy years
passed by them both again; he hadn't planned
that they would not meet. This chance disappears  
to speak the truth he knows she knows as well;
two ancient souls in broken bodies dwell.

Two ancient souls in broken bodies dwell,
a karmic double-helix twists through time.
They spiral 'round, attracted and repelled
by cosmic force, the space between defined
as two arms' lengths apart. Their fingertips
will brush by chance; the spark that generates
ignites the kindling lust, the heated lips
which speak the wildfire words of love. The fates
dictate the places, times where their paths cross;
circumstances, consequences feed
the choices made.  They've chosen fire, the loss
of reason, stoking starving naked need,
dance with abandon, passion, without pride;
they trip light-years fantastic side by side.

They trip light-years fantastic side by side.
The pas de deux began in ancient court
of some small city-state.  He is a knight
sent by his Queen, a diplomatic sort
of mission.  At a dinner hosted by
the local King, the knight, while taking in
who might be helpful or a hindrance spies
a shaken mane of gold, blue eyes within
her stunning face, struck slack with ennui
until she meets his eyes.  An eyebrow lifts,
a corner of her mouth curls up, unseen
by all save the old man beside.  He shifts,
and stands to pound his staff. The hall is still;
bound by an angered mage's curs'ed spell

Bound by an angered mage's curs'ed spell:
"Your burning gaze, Sir Knight...your smile, milass;
returned. You want each other?  Very well!
So mote it be; I'll have it come to pass.
She will be linked to you, eternally
yours, to have, to hold and never love;
to consummate and quench your lust will be
your death. And you shall lust, by Jove above!
I hereby mate your everlasting souls;
condemn you with a love like Hades' fires,
passion's heat incinerates you whole.
You'll take him, child, and **** him with desire.
You'll die for her; she'll bring you to her knees
across uncharted lands, bedragoned seas."

Across uncharted lands, bedragoned seas
uncounted years of wandering, he seeks
asylum from the memory of her eyes.
The softest skin, most gently blushing cheeks,
wildest fingers raking skin from back,
ever-changing hips which ****** and thrash;
the tavern *****, the courtesan, all lack
whatever power it would take to smash
his crushing need.  An aching pilgrimage,
life spent in shameless chase to slake the lust
imposed by jealous wizard in his rage.
Now weak and old, he walks alone through dust
and sandstorm, seeking solace, final rest
in desert's scalding carborundum breath

In desert's scalding carborundum breath
she oversees construction of her tomb.
Her father started it; upon his death,
she left the mage to build the solemn room
of memory. The waves of slaves pour sweat
in rivers onto stones, their muscles scream
and ripple in the undulating heat.
Mirage becomes a staggering man, unseen
by all but her. She mounts and rides to bring
some water, some relief.  When their eyes meet,
their souls enmesh, their spirits start to sing,
his failing body falls about her feet.
They're found again, and still there's no release;
not even end of life can bring surcease.

Not even end of life can bring surcease;
she lived another twenty years beyond.
His final glance of longing gave no peace,
but chained her in the everlasting bond
of arcane condemnation. Her ****** heart
is pierced by passing seconds, every one
a blunted needle, mildly poisoned dart
not strong enough to stop her pulse's run.
The mage's gift to her: the agony
of life remembering her lover's kiss,
then a death too short to set her free.
It sends her toward another fatal tryst,
spun round again the universe's width;
their love a measured minuet with death.

Their love a measured minuet with death,
a dance with destiny.  They wake again
to unfamiliar bodies, unknown paths
meandering across the haunted plain
of time.  A muddy pasture, half a million
blissful stoners join in raucous song:
"...and you make it hard". Among the hills run
****** lovers who can do no wrong,
all sharing bodies, needles 'til the smack
runs out. Her shaking arms strapped 'cross his chest;
he huddles close, awaiting the next stack
of Methadone. He shivers; breathes his last.
She cries and rocks his body, they will spoon
throughout the summer's thundered afternoon.

Throughout the summer's thundered afternoon
as heavy clouds erupt on thirsty soil,
cooler air meets skin on fire, a boon
to Magdalene and lover.  The sweet oil
washes off, the rain obscures the sound
of marching feet.  Centurions approach
and ****** him from her side. "So now you're found
beside this one, whose last ride gave us such
an evil time.  We strung him up, but now
his body's gone, and you were seen beside
the tomb. You'll die just as he did, and how."
She watched another man be crucified.
Supported by her love, he passed in peace
suspended in expectant spring's embrace.

Suspended in expectant spring's embrace,
the royal courtyard at Versailles in bloom
is laid out for the party.  Every face
is rouged, each powdered wig precisely groomed.
The hundred soldiers stand down, raise a toast,
Vive le roi!  One teasing courtier
seduces a queen's guard to leave his post.
Behind a hedge, they make love unaware
of peasants, women milling through the gate
in search of bread and royal blood, not cake.
He runs to save the Queen, and seals his fate;
the mob will **** for revolution's sake.
The oaks a silent witness to his doom
in autumn colors, reds and golds festooned.

In autumn colors, reds and golds festooned,
the twin moons rise and set, reflecting sun
upon the biodomes.  Earth shines down, ruined
by man's neglect, what could not be undone.
The population by law zero sum;
resource conservation held above
the joy of new life.  Parents here must come
to know the anguish of requited love.
She bears his child; they knew too well the chance
they took.  The court will force a choice be made:
the father or the child. A tear, a glance
as he's locked out. She watches as he fades
in cryogenic punishment, life lashed
to winter's icy shackles holding fast.

To winter's icy shackles holding fast
her soul, she proffers prayer, slogs through the sleet
toward her cloistered cell.  One chilling blast
wraps habit 'round her, knocks her off her feet.
The heavy, sodden cloth, the wind prevents
her gaining purchase on the frozen ground.
From monastery cot, the monk could sense
distress.  In thin burnoose he dashed and found
her, cold as stone, yet breathing; swept her up
and rushed her to the hearth.  His warm embrace
brings on familiar heat.  Their pasts stirred up,
relived, decision made within a trace:
"'Tis best this time we live, and never start."
Their minds attuned, yet cleft by broken heart.

Their minds attuned, yet cleft by broken heart;
the aching need grows stronger day by day.
He tends her failing health without regard
to duty, vows.  Her weak voice strains to say,
"I will be gone before you this time. Hear
me out; this may be what we need to break
our curse.  Stay with me as my time grows near;
and love me as the Reaper comes to take
my soul, and finish with me after I
have left.  God will forgive sins we'll commit
for man alone has ****** us.  We must try
or curse ourselves, continue to submit
to endless pain, remain just as we are:
connected, blessed, and doomed to be apart."

Connected, blessed, and doomed to be apart,
they cling to every moment here and now;
the priceless beating of her failing heart,
his passions roil out in unending flow.
He gazes deep in her eternal eyes
as they glaze over, looking past his face
into the hollow stare of death.  She lies
suspended between life and time and space,
to hear an old, familiar voice sound in
her ears.  "To dance with death before him
as you clever!  Most astounding
that you'd carry out this futile whim.
He dies; you'll live, just as the curse defines;
strolling, wistful, through a thousand lives."

Strolling, wistful, through a thousand lives
Two ancient souls in broken bodies dwell.
They trip light-years fantastic side by side
Bound by an angered mage's curs'ed spell.
Across uncharted lands, bedragoned seas,
In desert's scalding carborundum breath
Not even end of life can bring surcease;
Their love a measured minuet with death.
Throughout the summer's thundered afternoon,
Suspended in expectant spring's embrace,
In autumn colors, reds and golds festooned,
To winter's icy shackles holding fast;
Their minds attuned, yet cleft by broken heart:
Connected, blessed, and doomed to be apart.
For those of you who knew about this...thanks for your patience.  For those who didn't...this is where much of my creative energy has gone for the past 10 months.  This is the first draft;  revisions and refinements will inevitably follow.  I can usually write a sonnet in about an hour; silly me...I thought this would take me a day or two at worst.
oral transmission
Modulate - Cognate- Division
Cosmic - tuned in like Cognitive Transmission

This is my mission, to

Get up out the scene Live wild as a child
Dread my head, Hear cries like the Roar  I lionize
Deviant be me, othered for free
as the Nomos creates Signifier, Signified
somewhat like a homeless child stigmatized
caught outside our commercial enterprise


With enterprise, there enters lies,
Never earthbound my star ship seems to Actualize

So let me lyrically **** your path so you can shift past the cuts
Neva drinking the wine of wrath, made sour by sour patch cats blasted by vats OF GRAFFITI splats.

Culture slipping like gangsters simply sipping at the purple incision
instead we walk Holy like the cotton we missin

Tattoo my Secrets onto skin parchment ,
thats Ink advice ---:  People Lost in Duality, man thats just thinkin twice
Surrender and self-Sacrifice be the admission price
to see Kali singing blood mantras dancing through

Dreams of Ink darshan doorways
Tantric like Siva Approaches his consort for foreplay

My face is like a thundercloud, smiles formed outta cloud highs
Now my 3rd eye, washed in blood saw how Snakes stitch DNA
up and winding
and lemme tell you bro,
its some Nauesous stuff

Transcendent reality,
ego death till its fallacy,
recognize perfection
of life in the galaxy

So I toss out my ID, puff puff, its high ME
don't be Stuck like Ego grinding, Just saving souls don’t mind we,
go Indigo like Love in the margins, Golden souls attempting to live in holy gardens, ==========

We forget though

Neither death or immortality existed in the time before time,  of day or night no sign

There was Darkness hidden by Darkness , all was water but got started quick, by the sharpness of a god spark

kick crash hit, life spit out covered in emptiness

This was it, started from the bottom, rise in the power of heat,
dance tap ta dis beat Aware tapas generates so much heat Indiscreet
in abyss

But then desire became the fire, middle ground never higher than the smoke trails of the world's creation,
Spittin om proir flash forward funeral flames tamed by Tandava siva purifier

So this poet seeks in the heart of wisdom found in the bond of existence to non-existence
Knowledge that  I’m a livewire with a high resistance
I Complete my **** Through high persistence,

Eventually though,
the Fog rolls in again , agnosia forget the Cosmic condition
till then We soulfeed lyrics in-between kissing.
RAJ NANDY Jun 2016
Dear Friends, I had composed this poem in 2008 after reading an
article by a Lady Doctor who was a Biologist, and had initially posted it on ''. Hope you will like it! Thanks, - Raj

Love’s physics and chemistry, has forever
remained a mystery!
There are no permanent equations to resolve,
Love's unseen wave like force!
It travels through three dimensional space,
At frequencies higher than electromagnetic
It remains unhindered by barriers of cast, creed,
or clime,
Giving two beating hearts a feel of the divine!
It generates a magnetic force field, making
two hearts in unison beat!
Yet Biologists claim that a chemical called
(PEA) Phenylethylamine, -
Triggers loves molecules in the human mind!
Chocolates are rich in this PEA content they say,
And is a perfect gift on the Valentine’s Day!
The chemical Dopamine makes the lovers to
glow and feel fine,
When they live on love and fresh air and may
even forget to dine!
While Norepinephrine, which stimulates our
adrenaline production,
Makes the lovers world go round in a joyous
But Oxytoxin that 'cuddling chemical',  requires
constant contact for its effects to prevail!
Cupid’s arrows may be dipped in its pail,
Before those arrows on lovers begin to hail!
Creating unbearable attraction leading to infatuation,
Making two hearts beat as one with love’s magic
But such feelings remain for a limited duration,
Varying with people with different emotions!
In a 'mercurial type' loves ecstasy gets mixed, -
And they frequently require a PEA fix!
But those who stick to a single mate,
Are said to be rich in Vasopressin content!
And finally when infatuation gradually subsides,
Chemicals triggered by Endorphine slowly overtakes,
When calmness and stability with loving bond
This Endorphine is reputed to be rather addictive,
And firmly binds those forces released by PEA, -
which are rather seductive!
(All Copyrights with Raj Nandy of New Delhi)
The chemicals mentioned in the poem have been verified by Medical Science.
The south-wind brings
Life, sunshine, and desire,
And on every mount and meadow
Breathes aromatic fire,
But over the dead he has no power,
The lost, the lost he cannot restore,
And, looking over the hills, I mourn
The darling who shall not return.

I see my empty house,
I see my trees repair their boughs,
And he, —the wondrous child,
Whose silver warble wild
Outvalued every pulsing sound
Within the air's cerulean round,
The hyacinthine boy, for whom
Morn well might break, and April bloom,
The gracious boy, who did adorn
The world whereinto he was born,
And by his countenance repay
The favor of the loving Day,
Has disappeared from the Day's eye;
Far and wide she cannot find him,
My hopes pursue, they cannot bind him.
Returned this day the south-wind searches
And finds young pines and budding birches,
But finds not the budding man;
Nature who lost him, cannot remake him;
Fate let him fall, Fate can't retake him;
Nature, Fate, men, him seek in vain.

And whither now, my truant wise and sweet,
Oh, whither tend thy feet?
I had the right, few days ago,
Thy steps to watch, thy place to know;
How have I forfeited the right?
Hast thou forgot me in a new delight?
I hearken for thy household cheer,
O eloquent child!
Whose voice, an equal messenger,
Conveyed thy meaning mild.
What though the pains and joys
Whereof it spoke were toys
Fitting his age and ken;—
Yet fairest dames and bearded men,
Who heard the sweet request
So gentle, wise, and grave,
Bended with joy to his behest,
And let the world's affairs go by,
Awhile to share his cordial game,
Or mend his wicker wagon frame,
Still plotting how their hungry ear
That winsome voice again might hear,
For his lips could well pronounce
Words that were persuasions.

Gentlest guardians marked serene
His early hope, his liberal mien,
Took counsel from his guiding eyes
To make this wisdom earthly wise.
Ah! vainly do these eyes recall
The school-march, each day's festival,
When every morn my ***** glowed
To watch the convoy on the road;—
The babe in willow wagon closed,
With rolling eyes and face composed,
With children forward and behind,
Like Cupids studiously inclined,
And he, the Chieftain, paced beside,
The centre of the troop allied,
With sunny face of sweet repose,
To guard the babe from fancied foes,
The little Captain innocent
Took the eye with him as he went,
Each village senior paused to scan
And speak the lovely caravan.

From the window I look out
To mark thy beautiful parade
Stately marching in cap and coat
To some tune by fairies played;
A music heard by thee alone
To works as noble led thee on.
Now love and pride, alas, in vain,
Up and down their glances strain.
The painted sled stands where it stood,
The kennel by the corded wood,
The gathered sticks to stanch the wall
Of the snow-tower, when snow should fall,
The ominous hole he dug in the sand,
And childhood's castles built or planned.
His daily haunts I well discern,
The poultry yard, the shed, the barn,
And every inch of garden ground
Paced by the blessed feet around,
From the road-side to the brook;
Whereinto he loved to look.
Step the meek birds where erst they ranged,
The wintry garden lies unchanged,
The brook into the stream runs on,
But the deep-eyed Boy is gone.

On that shaded day,
Dark with more clouds than tempests are,
When thou didst yield thy innocent breath
In bird-like heavings unto death,
Night came, and Nature had not thee,—
I said, we are mates in misery.
The morrow dawned with needless glow,
Each snow-bird chirped, each fowl must crow,
Each tramper started,— but the feet
Of the most beautiful and sweet
Of human youth had left the hill
And garden,—they were bound and still,
There's not a sparrow or a wren,
There's not a blade of autumn grain,
Which the four seasons do not tend,
And tides of life and increase lend,
And every chick of every bird,
And **** and rock-moss is preferred.
O ostriches' forgetfulness!
O loss of larger in the less!
Was there no star that could be sent,
No watcher in the firmament,
No angel from the countless host,
That loiters round the crystal coast,
Could stoop to heal that only child,
Nature's sweet marvel undefiled,
And keep the blossom of the earth,
Which all her harvests were not worth?
Not mine, I never called thee mine,
But nature's heir,— if I repine,
And, seeing rashly torn and moved,
Not what I made, but what I loved.
Grow early old with grief that then
Must to the wastes of nature go,—
'Tis because a general hope
Was quenched, and all must doubt and *****
For flattering planets seemed to say,
This child should ills of ages stay,—
By wondrous tongue and guided pen
Bring the flown muses back to men. —
Perchance, not he, but nature ailed,
The world, and not the infant failed,
It was not ripe yet, to sustain
A genius of so fine a strain,
Who gazed upon the sun and moon
As if he came unto his own,
And pregnant with his grander thought,
Brought the old order into doubt.
Awhile his beauty their beauty tried,
They could not feed him, and he died,
And wandered backward as in scorn
To wait an Æon to be born.
Ill day which made this beauty waste;
Plight broken, this high face defaced!
Some went and came about the dead,
And some in books of solace read,
Some to their friends the tidings say,
Some went to write, some went to pray,
One tarried here, there hurried one,
But their heart abode with none.
Covetous death bereaved us all
To aggrandize one funeral.
The eager Fate which carried thee
Took the largest part of me.
For this losing is true dying,
This is lordly man's down-lying,
This is slow but sure reclining,
Star by star his world resigning.

O child of Paradise!
Boy who made dear his father's home
In whose deep eyes
Men read the welfare of the times to come;
I am too much bereft;
The world dishonored thou hast left;
O truths and natures costly lie;
O trusted, broken prophecy!
O richest fortune sourly crossed;
Born for the future, to the future lost!

The deep Heart answered, Weepest thou?
Worthier cause for passion wild,
If I had not taken the child.
And deemest thou as those who pore
With aged eyes short way before?
Think'st Beauty vanished from the coast
Of matter, and thy darling lost?
Taught he not thee, — the man of eld,
Whose eyes within his eyes beheld
Heaven's numerous hierarchy span
The mystic gulf from God to man?
To be alone wilt thou begin,
When worlds of lovers hem thee in?
To-morrow, when the masks shall fall
That dizen nature's carnival,
The pure shall see, by their own will,
Which overflowing love shall fill,—
'Tis not within the force of Fate
The fate-conjoined to separate.
But thou, my votary, weepest thou?
I gave thee sight, where is it now?
I taught thy heart beyond the reach
Of ritual, Bible, or of speech;
Wrote in thy mind's transparent table
As far as the incommunicable;
Taught thee each private sign to raise
Lit by the supersolar blaze.
Past utterance and past belief,
And past the blasphemy of grief,
The mysteries of nature's heart,—
And though no muse can these impart,
Throb thine with nature's throbbing breast,
And all is clear from east to west.

I came to thee as to a friend,
Dearest, to thee I did not send
Tutors, but a joyful eye,
Innocence that matched the sky,
Lovely locks a form of wonder,
Laughter rich as woodland thunder;
That thou might'st entertain apart
The richest flowering of all art;
And, as the great all-loving Day
Through smallest chambers takes its way,
That thou might'st break thy daily bread
With Prophet, Saviour, and head;
That thou might'st cherish for thine own
The riches of sweet Mary's Son,
Boy-Rabbi, Israel's Paragon:
And thoughtest thou such guest
Would in thy hall take up his rest?
Would rushing life forget its laws,
Fate's glowing revolution pause?
High omens ask diviner guess,
Not to be conned to tediousness.
And know, my higher gifts unbind
The zone that girds the incarnate mind,
When the scanty shores are full
With Thought's perilous whirling pool,
When frail Nature can no more,—
Then the spirit strikes the hour,
My servant Death with solving rite
Pours finite into infinite.
Wilt thou freeze love's tidal flow,
Whose streams through nature circling go?
Nail the star struggling to its track
On the half-climbed Zodiack?
Light is light which radiates,
Blood is blood which circulates,
Life is life which generates,
And many-seeming life is one,—
Wilt thou transfix and make it none,
Its onward stream too starkly pent
In figure, bone, and lineament?

Wilt thou uncalled interrogate
Talker! the unreplying fate?
Nor see the Genius of the whole
Ascendant in the private soul,
Beckon it when to go and come,
Self-announced its hour of doom.
Fair the soul's recess and shrine,
Magic-built, to last a season,
Masterpiece of love benign!
Fairer than expansive reason
Whose omen 'tis, and sign.
Wilt thou not ope this heart to know
What rainbows teach and sunsets show,
Verdict which accumulates
From lengthened scroll of human fates,
Voice of earth to earth returned,
Prayers of heart that inly burned;
Saying, what is excellent,
As God lives, is permanent
Hearts are dust, hearts' loves remain,
Heart's love will meet thee again.
Revere the Maker; fetch thine eye
Up to His style, and manners of the sky.
Not of adamant and gold
Built He heaven stark and cold,
No, but a nest of bending reeds,
Flowering grass and scented weeds,
Or like a traveller's fleeting tent,
Or bow above the tempest pent,
Built of tears and sacred flames,
And virtue reaching to its aims;
Built of furtherance and pursuing,
Not of spent deeds, but of doing.
Silent rushes the swift Lord
Through ruined systems still restored,
Broad-sowing, bleak and void to bless,
Plants with worlds the wilderness,
Waters with tears of ancient sorrow
Apples of Eden ripe to-morrow;
House and tenant go to ground,
Lost in God, in Godhead found.
vircapio gale Mar 2013
a poetic rain,
in small print,
fills the white sky page
...and leaves it pregnant with a frontier glowing brighter
than the prime moved space attuned to matter's birth
--all the freedom still, and more... continues growing heedless of the dark surround

and as a bright lotus conjures flight from murky soils--
heavy, sinking, rooted into nether darks--
you digest even drivel as you read, and leap beyond,
celebrating its inherent scope, tendril values spanning all potentiality;
i squint to see you silhouetted there: silent poet flying in between the signs,
to re-sign brilliance on that plane,
and voice the silence intertwining muse and verbal ruse

producing in an everpresent rain the giving-rise to words,
the meaning prior and pretend, and signaled apprehension past intent:
deluge inspiration in the rents of earth, carry dust into the rainbow clouds, and see the shaking world alight in lovingkindness without end

speaking now in arts reversed,
in playing poems and writing at a pitch to sweeten tongues with memories relived...
speaking in the ripple-visage looking back at skys beneath a surface weight we bear,
and shed in holding breath in waves, and squinting tight
the urge to love a universes' birth, conceive
the poem that generates progenesis of stellar forms
words to twist the vital helix of all oneness beings into being fair
chiasmi of the night alive to sing expanse, to sing alive galactic seas alight
into the pan-flute of the gods re-tuned to shakuhachi tones,
tabla moans and pops of ancient memories reborn
make verbal love within raags beloved rivers smooth at sitar drone
... within the theater your poetic home enfolds

Blinded by love,* can a lotus grow?
through this, beyond chance, to realize...kinship with a chameleon?
with an ant in unexplored territory?
mysteries hiding
revealing deeper mysteries, the hues of Kerala regrown
unknown cloud of "known"-unknown rising...
unknown cloud of possible-knowns to be...
being past, unknown cloud to wash the earth...
allowing all other clouds, dharma-megha cloud returning to that ocean..
--what limits of versatility attain here in my underwater tears?

we can be A dog and a cat transfixed by a sun set
lizards versus spiders crawling for our meals
the dance and dancer one
and we can tend the gardens all our lovers left
or tend the Goddess Night in daring shadow walks with her to inner, spiraled light
that inner vined garden of her truth forever singing you are me
tat twam asi in hues dark maidenhood restrokes
euphoric agony contains a clue
where negatives dream each other through and through
in a subtle exchange self with self before a mirror that eats all reflections

italics are credited to the poetry of K. Balachandran, being either direct quotes or titles
David Barr Jan 2014
I have heard the haunted whispers of screaming and necrophliac anguish from the depths of the eerie crypts of ancient mausoleums.
There is a damp smell in disused railway tunnels which generates a fearful sense of grateful awareness.
Flying down the streets in astral projections of nocturnal liberation reminds me of the warmth of hateful urinary incontinences.
Does a Gold Star adequately represent a brand of brown sauce, or does it represent something else? Please enlighten me, as the guise of Rabatak inscriptions unravel ******* dismay.
What else generates laughs
It's what comes of sadness,
It would be funny
If it were not sad.

What is most impressive
It's what everyone already knows,
It would be funny
If it were not sad.

What most distresses people
Are the consequences of love,
It would be funny
If it were not sad.

What generates more income for poets
Are the tragedies reports
Plucking joy of sad people,
It would be funny
If it were not a Poem.
Mike West Oct 2012
Diaper duty's not that bad.
The first few months go well.
Baby doesn't go that much,
And the poo does not yet smell.
When baby's very little,
And gets fed only milk
Baby's little excrement
Resembles brown mustard 'til...
Baby starts to grow a bit
And so does baby's poo.
The food they eat is more complex
And they poo much more like you.
Changing baby's diaper
Becomes more interesting.
And the smell that baby generates
Starts your nose to sting.
You learn real fast which foods cause
Your nostrils so much gloom.
And which of baby's foods are safe
And don't cause deadly fumes.
You also learn what kind of foods
Make baby's poo too stiff.
And what makes their poo so runny
They could poo through a sieve.
So take care of little baby
And always feed them right.
And be sure to check their diaper
Before turning out the light.
Finally clear,
The mist is moving
and my thoughts brewin'.
There's a storm in my head.

I'll plan ahead,
on account of that
which hath been said.

The fog congregates, energy generates
as storm-clouds roar the war-cry of profligates.

Thunderous applause
and I'm live now,
as frost-fire falls

I'm electrified with power
when I've got the will to be

and lines to be dropping.
It's live now,
and there's no stopping.
MissMalice Feb 2015
Quite admirable , awe-inspiring , a divine piece of manufacture
It’s capriciousness is an equivalent of swooning of rapture

This carpet conveys itself as flawless , the fragrance is pleasant

The glossy finish generates a yearning to have it present

The blissful texture is mesmerizing , subject to perfect knitting

Not to mention it’s size is perfectly fitting


Though the alternative side seems worn and tattered

And the fabric surrounding is scattered

There are pockets and splits

There are strewed fiber bits

Along the edges are multicolored spots

And the yarn had formed knots


At that point the onlooker would become flustered helplessly

Were they to take it into their tenancy ?

Sure it was depleted

And maybe it was slightly untreated

Though it was equally handsome

Despite it’s opposing filthy expansion


Then the beholder would ponder a tad

And realize the flaws weren't so bad

They were to be contemplated abnormally

Though as well stood out morbidly

The allotment seemed now suitable

And each side was mutable
Designed to stand metaphoric for point of view among society
Nazmi Mahamood Dec 2013
What's wrong with the people and their religion?
People are living like they have no religion.
I think the whole world is addicted to the drama.
Only attracts religious hatred and to things that'll bring you trauma.

but if you only have love and respect for your own religion
Then you only leave space for discrimination
And discrimination only generates hate
And when you hate then you're bound to get irate.

From overseas we try to stop foreign influence
that break our unity and smile for each other.
But we still got racists here with no common sense.
Why forget the fact we all belong to the same mother?

Madness is what you demonstrate
And that's exactly how anger works and operates.
We all need love to get it straight!
Take control of your mind and meditate and let your soul gravitate!

Christian, Muslim, Buddhist, Hindu and others too.
Let the religions unity and love flow!
Open your eyes and awake!
You all are Sri Lankans for God's sake!
I found this in my computer. I think I wrote this 4 months ago.
How should I call it? A Parody? A Cover? | I took stuff from the song "Where is the love? by Black Eyed Peas" | No copyright intended. | I just need unity in my country from all the religious hatred. | Let this act as a call for national unity.
Poetry by MAN Nov 2014
Unleash my full love attack
Pure energy charge when I plug into your socket
Words do no justice on how I can crush this
Animal magnetism feel my lust is..
More than "just one" can ever handle
Pores pour danger feel my scandal
My mystery flows blissfully
Covers every inch of your skin
Alone we are innocent together we are sin
Vibrate turn you on body becomes a machine
Erratic stirring motion whips up your cream
Deep neck I attack
Not many can handle the punch I pack
Stung by my poke..change up stroke
Body..Mind..Intertwine creates mental smoke
Body language telling tales
Tossing tumbling scratching nails
Tongue acrobatic generates ******* static
Overdose from pleasure become the magic
One last trick yes its nice and thick
Tell me favorite position go ahead and pick
Legs unfold to please you is my mode
Hands explore while your juices explode
In and out feel me tap..tap..tap
Let me rip like Jack..Unf..TO NOT HOLD BACK!
M.A.N 11-10-14  I wrote this for my **** Scorpio ♏ blog..^_*
CommonStory Jun 2014
It's starting

Puff puff

Drink drink

Just a little to start

A tingle euphoria generates through my body


How heavenly

What a draining relief has come

Laughable ramblings through the groups

Fickle chat

Random silences

A leveling effect has come

Teeter todder invisible waves rub across my body

How invigorating

The tingle Slowly shifts into a numbing pulse

I didn't notice

How nice

Then it fades away

Like a butterfly in a suns rays

Sweet intoxication
Jimmy Hegan Sep 2015
Feelings  are  like  lifeline  to our heart,
It  increases day by day like share increase it's volume,
Feelings increases  gradually for beloved one's & convert into love,
It gives nutrition ,vitamins to heart,
Different kinds of feelings generates in our heart,
Some may be sweet to digest our heart,
Some may be bitter to swallow our throat's,
Some may be injurious to our heart,
which generates  massive heart attack.
Our heart stores countless,matchless and bounty full feelings
for our closed one's, beloved one's , boyfriends , girlfriends & many more
Feelings cannot be destroyed from our heart,
Emotions cannot be destroyed from our heart,
It stays forever and ever.
It generates big  sea tides in our heart
Makes us tremendous anger and fight full person.
It  may also give  happiness or sadness.
Bunhead17 Sep 2016
What's wrong with the world, mama
People livin' like they ain't got no mamas
I think the whole world addicted to the drama
Only attracted to things that'll bring you trauma

Overseas, yeah, we try to stop terrorism
But we still got terrorists here livin'
In the USA, the big CIA
The Bloods and The Crips and the KKK

But if you only have love for your own race
Then you only leave space to discriminate
And to discriminate only generates hate
And when you hate then you're bound to get irate
**The Black eyed peas FT. The world
there is so much about life he does not understand powers influences insights secrets repetitions patterns relationships mysteries so many things to learn remember so many things to forget every morning he wakes with hope faith no matter how challenging threatening or bleak the odds he feels confident in the possibilities optimistic in his abilities desires believing in his quest for love success happiness yet every night alone in his empty room he comes undone again

Dad’s dying generates beginning of Odysseus’s awakening from his long deep stupor Dad was so heavy-handed intimidating his reign of terror is done next several years blow by like chilling numb wind off lake michigan dreams seem more real than existence Odysseus continues painting writing bartending drives Farina to beach daily it takes a while for him to realize he is freed of shackles Dad’s tyranny and it is all right to answer to himself alone in june 1994 news reports genocide of 800,000 people murdered in rwanda in july Odysseus feels trapped in identity he can no longer endure after struggling for years to achieve stature as accomplished painter he realizes he is nobody perhaps simply troubled artsy son of well-to-do Chicago socialites Jenny and late Max Schwartzpilgrim his discontent goes beyond family he feels shame disappointment with himself desperately needs to make changes to his life knows he cannot do it in chicago weary of all the sins damage he has made suffered in that city he wants to find somewhere less corrupt stressful more down-to-earth knows all to well how to get in trouble wants to find someplace where there is no trouble somewhere quiet dull preferably beautiful Odysseus liquates ashes to ashes clears altar of every dust flake sells paintings art supplies books music cassettes clothes vintage collection other possessions at sidewalk sale makes out with nearly $6000 whatever he does not sell he gives or throws away he is used to giving or throwing himself away he is 44 Mom protests but her disapproval packs no punch without Dad he says his goodbyes to family friends packs up toyota and with Farina steers away from chicago he leaves behind many destructive friends acquaintances people who will never dig their way out of wrecks they are buried in leaves behind history of minor misdeeds abuses disappointments scenes happenings he feels shame regret about he leaves behind practice of familiar patterns certainties faces names who recognize his talent problematic self never again will he benefit from questionable reputation nor will phone ring many times daily and never again will there always be someone to meet up with or gathering to go to he leaves behind support system of loving family friends fans whom he will miss greatly he lets go the character he was to become someone different hopefully better they drive on aimless odyssey without thinking searching with no place in mind listens for scenery to call to him inwardly the journey is the meaning he drives up streets down alleys through 4 corner towns bypassing most cities whenever he sights a lake he pulls over treats Farina to a swim sometimes swimming together they sleep in tent or stay at inexpensive motels that allow dogs while driving he often feels overwhelmed by diverse raw beauty of American landscapes lush forests spectacular mountain ranges sweeping valleys winding 2 lane highways along coastlines he points out sights to Farina but ultimately he wishes for another pair of human eyes beside him
Nat Lipstadt Nov 2013
Consanguinity: A Commissioned Poem
(How Well Do
Know Me?)

This request, from wolf spirit aka quinfinn, accidentally hit the spot of what was foremost on my mind.

Cosanguinity:  A relationship by descent from a common ancestor; kinship (distinguished from affinity).  A close relationship or connection.

Poetry, mine, yours,
Invades my consciousness.

We write poems on the same subject,
Even the same title,
But a few days apart.


Perhaps we are reading each other's stuff
Too much.

But that's crazy,

And yet,
We see the same things
So incredibly different.

That is the answer.
We see the same thing and I am
Struck down.

A billion sights.
A billion words.
Yet, the human computer,
Sorts, collates, and generates
A billion different writes
In a similar spirit,
Employing the same phraseology.

All right.


East Coast.
West Coast.
Geographical differences.
Time differences.

No difference.
A billion differences.
The stylistic differences enable,
No, correction,
Ennobles us to coexist,
Value each other,

Observable differences.
But more interesting,
More pleasurable,
are the incredible, visible, signs of
Mere affinity?

A poem?
But at 1:11am in my location,
It's what's on my mind.
Now that I know the meaning of
Somehow in my mind these two poems are linked.

Place your ****** hands upon thy chest.
Let them melt thru and come to rest,
Inside, the battle ongoing, under thy breast.
Watch, eyes open, knowing, fearful.
Swiftly, with no hesitation, from within,
Rip open your body, exhaling the best,
And the worst of what you got.

The cool air rushes in,
Stirring the inside stew of:
Infected grime, shameful desires,
Secrets that should not have been exposed,
The ***** stuff that you alone know exists.

Contact with the atmosphere makes
Self-pity dies, blue blood turn red,
The TNT tightness explodes,
Ashamed, you have only one escape hatch.

Now, you are ready to write.
June 18
Suzanne Penn Nov 2013
The first hint of power
whispered through the twilight
riding the cool evening breeze.  
Lighting here
and there,
touching, tasting, searching.  

looking for a place
to call home.

The pink serpentine mist
with blue and lavender sparks
as it made its way
through the ancient grove
of Aspen trees
meandering toward the creek
always attracts life
and life generates power.
Power yawns
stretching its long limber tentacles
deep into the early morning light
The crackle of excitement
as power slides...
toward its destiny.
Hal Loyd Denton Apr 2013
This great white wolf made for traversing wilderness giving it the most identifiable sound for its
Wild uncompromising soul beautifying the night wind adding an extra chilling effect but giving
Unspeakable comfort too it tells of freedom and possibilities latent in us all but he is reduced to
Confinement in a small enclosure pitifully no larger than a small yard his is a life sentence with
All these noble creatures that is at hand what would be so awful to set him free after five
Years and replace him with a kit a lot of his five years would be in youthful play and when he
Did mature and the wear begins then repeat the action we ourselves have and experience this
Fate we have a great white pure spirit that longs to be masterful but our eyes and the things we
See deface and scar our opportunities that are innumerable but dark bars hold us in pens their
Shadows show on our fleece that is white as snow there is the outward physical blackness but
Of the greatest sadness it burrows into the sacred hidden places of the mind this is a tether
Most cruel but outwardly we convulse with misery but can’t clearly identify why misery and
Sadness hounds us without end we all desire love but we practice selfishness and try by greed
To use others to give us what we think will make us happy what darkness grips us what light
Would be found and we would emerge from deep pits if we understood giving helping others is
Where satisfaction out weighs gold and its benefits are perpetual well being to making the soul
Gleam as white as brightest day and this will not become cankerous and subtly start to shrink
Your heart to bitter ridicule of your own self you can go forth groaning or singing blackness
Befalling you at every turn or your heart will be leaping over fast moving streams that have
Depths of joy they rush over your feet and then swirl upwards from your feet all through your
System until your head is invigorated and swimming bestowing on you pleasure your heart will
Leap like a hart you truly will be the envy and guide to others that you unsuccessfully sought at
Other times in devious ways and you were so misguided you were plagued with a unreachable
Denseness you fight with such fervor but it cost the loss of everything but by simple obedience
And surrender to the much over looked and demeaned golden rule all it asks is love your
Neighbor as yourself what a healthy and wise statement love yourself without restraint now
Just go and double it by giving the same consideration to your fellow man and then vanquish  
The darkest and most powerful restraints by confessing I see deaths grip it has perfected traps
That are mine alone and it is not in our power that we can break free but His power is without
Equal why should I languish in this black dungeon when on white wings as an eagle is my true
Potential I was made to fly in bluest skies and to match the cool moist clouds I was made to
Make a show only to be sky bound not locked in myself and become hidden by my black
Outlook that obscures what love I am capable of

The kindest evidence the savior passed was the marks he bestowed in the most gentile articulation in this
His wise choices matched imperfection to our needs. One of the most telling attributes of women can be
Her hands but what if they are slightly marred the grace only flows to a deeper level quickness is
Replaced by deliberate action slower more thoughtful and profound a touch placed with this kind of
Feeling goes to a measure instantly felt it is not just the ordinary but a thing of force that unravels
Trouble mysteriously it finds the hidden knots looses them allows love to flow wide and full. Perhaps a
Man no longer strides with a power that has an assurance maybe he is depended on a stick for support
Where power is diffused it only changes channels it makes the heart stronger the eyes feel it too
Humanity in others is recessed the blunder the self efficiency drains from boisterous streams into calm
Assessment a flow that harnesses possibility not vain bravado that can at times wound those who are
Weaker and that are struggling. If times try men’s souls then imperfection can be a clarion call the
Placement of virtue at the lead where sometimes pride is the driving force this writing came from seeing
A woman walking in a sunny scene and she had a blotchy spot on her arm others could observe this and
Be to one degree or another repulsed but to the man who loves her it is a special calling card it
Touches makes the forces revel in a display that sets her apart from all others an instrument of sound
That separates from the den isolates carries a marker that generates tenderness, esteem, and honor
Thou art the tune and sound of a masterful violin play nothing else in my presence nothing else will do
Your imperfections makes another whole don’t ever fret over your special make up it is the breath and
The visitation of the divine in the human form boldly brushed in the shadow perfected by sun light
Jordan Robertson Jan 2014
Though my outward appearance may seem somewhat complex
-In this Hard-wired soul
It is the machinery that's run by electricity that generates creativity that would vex Einstein himself
-But it is all relative to this hard-wired soul
Because it was through the wire that I calculated the desire or rather my need to aquire the programming need to love you
-But it wasn't that simple for this weary hard-wired soul
Because I am based upon logic so when I try to complete what I had started the numbers just overrun like a leaky faucet
-You just may be too much for this hard-wired soul
And on one day I twitched, skipped and even began to glitch just from the thought of loving you
Because while the assembly may be perfect for this computerized hermit I still cant calculate if the chances are worth it, so maybe I should just hit reset and accept the regret of not having the correct programming for you yet
-But you ought not sleep on this hard-wired soul
So I beep and I peep, and you reply with a positive tweet the answer this old machine always wanted to hear
I could have cried if a computer ever tried because my data began to skip and glide a most unusual stride
Because she said yes.
But my circuits are fried!
Nik Bland Nov 2012
She is more than the world will give her credit for simply because it has believed it's overcome her
Taking out the odds and making them even but she's an oddity that I believe in
See her as she flies her song onto yonder tightrope, balancing every note on thin wire
A girl who find life's a three ring thing filled with children, so you might as well have fun as you interact

She is something of a wild thing that can't be tamed and a thing whose name I can't seem to think of
A wonder in herself by a God who just said "What the heck" and made an angel with technicolor wings
Hear each letter as it falls upon the silver page and scribbled in bronze inside her golden notebook
The silent river that runs deep careening into life and love, roaring at the end into the sea

She is someone who deserves the very best of things, though worst may come, she never lets you down
Thinking of most thoughts that go unthunk by highly trained thinkers, thanking the people in her mind
Know she sees you passing by and winks with a glance, a chance you'll get before she passes by
Wandering to find something which she may not be looking for, a truth inside a door which is key

She is not one who will cry over the simplest of things, but when she cries, her eyes unleash a storm
So she may be the reason raindrops are falling on my head from a leaking ceiling in my cabin warm
Feel each heartbeat as it generates a moment when a silver tear may escape her soul's window
She is no ordinary girl who wears her heart on her sleeve, but buries it in hopes something may grow

Are you sad or unhappy
Depressed; Feeling lonely
Each day dark and dreary or blue?

Do not worry my friend
I know just how you feel
I have all the right answers for you

So to counter the downward
You start thinking upward
Bad thoughts will stick to you like glue

It takes more than just effort
You must remain strong
Fortitude; So this trip you'll see through

Now I want you to think
of a time you were happy
When things in the world all seemed new

Full of love and carefree
Innocent; Truly pure
Crisp and clean
; Much alike morning dew

When inside of your mind
you project types of thoughts
that are positive; Like "dreams come true"

It rewires your brain
new connections
Gets rid of the old residue

But you must stay the course
Don't give up in distress
And in time it will start getting through

It is hard I confess
But would never attempt
or could make a false promise to you

So if happiness is
what you want from your life
Yet it always finds ways to elude

The change comes from inside
Must have faith; Must believe
Make a batch of fresh "positive brew"

As you drink this elixir
In time you will see
Billiard ***** have all left but the cue

A blank slate to create
What you want of the world
Every color no longer just blue

Disagree or debate
If you finish the race
Like a big gust of wind that just blew

All the darkness now gone
Feel like 'here I belong'
Peace of mind; Life that's filled with love too
Written: October 21, 2018 (started) & January 31, 2019 (finished)

All rights reserved.
[Anapestic Heptameter format]
N T Sep 2013
With fingers holding the tail end of a cigarette (or the head end)
I wonder how my Daddy feels, when he imagines killing people who are different to him
cigarette companies make cigarettes
and he generates poison, and ejects it with his words.
His poison existed in my blood and in my soul for years
Mecca, Baghdad, colour, allah; the person, the religion.
I hated them all, with the power that Daddy hates cigarettes and of course the others
What gives him the right to hate all of those things, and tell me what I should and shouldn't hate.
I lift the cigarette up to my mouth and enjoy the thought of my bubble wrap lungs popping
I cough and it's rubbing it in my Daddy's face
While you're scheming dropping bombs, and becoming what you hate
I'm dying, slowly and laughing at the morbid thought
that while your hate won't **** anyone; your crippled manhood.
My hate for you is killing me
inhale, exhale.
Nnaemeka Mokeme Oct 2018
Because of you,
I can say what's
on my mind,
laugh at myself
and put a smile
on a sad face.
I do the
impossible things
with the
right mind set.
Because of you,
I became better.
Your inspiration
motivates and propels
me beyond the limits.
Because of you
I became a superman
doing all kinds of
amazing and supernatural
tremendously incredible
great things with
giant strides.  
Because of you
i can climb
all the hills
and mountains like
the Spiderman.
Because you are
by my side I
became more than
a conquerer.
Positivity became
my ally and
generates me to
a spiritual high.
Because of you,
I know everything
is working the
way they should.
And for that
my heart is so grateful.
©2018,Emeka Mokeme. All Rights Reserved.
Victoria Reese Jul 2013
The need for love is obsolete - and dead
When life is so fast with frictional vice
Body on body turning in your bed
Betwixt the sheets with no love but still nice
No need for bitter moans, anger just lust
When a solo gains more credit than a
Duo torn by *** fading into dust
Grounded down into nothing day by day.
Whilst I exist without my mirror soul
Generates views of empty and hopeless
By lovers who will ask if I feel whole
And filling it with a vacant caress?
My answer is - I don't need any luck
'Cause frankly my dear, I don't give a ****!
John Mahoney Dec 2012
it is winter,
although warm days
deceive us

dead branches
brown lawns

now, finally, in a winter's
black night
giant, sodden,

the sky clouded
     full of snow
to make the night sky

we stand
each wielding a shovel

sharing the joy
in this

         in which
the universe once again

seems to work


it is the bond
of the shared moment
which generates an
intensity of

a perfect understanding
between souls
strung out along
the driveway

shoveling snow
in a cloud of grey
Earl Jane Jul 2015

                                              I enfold you closer to me,
                      And let you feel every melody,
That my heart produces.

Suddenly you got enervated,

                            Because of my monotonous euphony.

                                            I wonder why would you feel like that?

          When the only harmony my heart generates,

                 ~> Are the tone of the sweetness of your name,
                                 ~> And the music of your love,
                                                That carries me into the paradise land,
                  Which everyone dreams of?

      I only love you,

                                                 That's why,
                        I will never mix others musical genre,
                Into the rhythm that maintains the circulation,
                                 Of love and felicity,

                                                                ­                            Into my life.

                            © Earl Jane
                              ♥ E.J.C.S.
Marshal Gebbie Oct 2010
Written in the language of the hard hats and dedicated to each and every one of us who have endured this horrible ****** Winter weather*

Rain in gouts from June till now
There's blue clay mud forever,
Orange excavators ply
With sturdy tracked endeavour.
Lakes of water, turgid brown,
Are Swirling  with the flow
Of four inch pumps in overdrive
With ****** all to show.

Streaming rainfall day by day
As dogged men press on
To concrete saw and generator's
Screaming, nearby song.
Welders, under shelter, flash
Their lurid silver light
And ghosts of reinforcing bars
Reflect like day is night.

Mightily the ironwork
Descends by crane to trench
And snaking snout of concrete pump
Disgorge their load to bench
The magic of the bentonite
Performs it's subtle dance
And the concrete locks for centuries
As thunderous skies advance.

Knee deep in the morass
With perplexed furrowed brow,
An engineer is pondering
A sticky problem he has now
How to isolate contaminants
From mud to water flow,
How to guarantee the purity
As seaward tonnes of it does go

And still the deluge thundered down
Relentlessly it poured,
Day to day and month by month
Despite the plea's implored.
Relentlessly the hard hats
Bent their sodden backs to task
And forged a mighty work of progress
.... More than anyone could ask!

Amazing the endeavor,
Just amazing how they work
How men can face adversity
And simply will not go beserk!
How bounteous camaraderie
Generates between ranks.
When the hardship is shared
And the boss smiles... thanks.

For the roof beams are settling
And those deep holes begin
The tunnel takes shape
As slanting rain whistles in
And the big trucks do loiter
To idle there for a bit,
As the loud water blasters
Clear the clogged wheels of ****.

And the public all clamoured
To wait and queue in the stall
To watch and to witness
A quite remarkable call.
For the old Birdcage tavern
On that grim cloudy day
Promptly lifted her skirts
And slowly scuttled away.

All the glue and epoxy
And the rivers of nails,
And concrete trucks queuing
As the ******* flails.
And steel by the megaton
All rusted and twitched
And worriers worrying
Till the problems are fixed.
And the augers are drilling
In a great tandem arc
And nobody knows
Where the **** they can park!!!
Then the bright sunshine breaks
And the smiles all appear
And the work rate accellerates
For the way is now is clear
To inter that  dear old Vic tunnel
Down deep in the sod
Then you'll hear us all chortle
"We've ****** done it ...Thank God!"

Victoria Park Tunnel
3 October 2010
Rangzeb Hussain Mar 2010
Be not afraid...

My true heart, may you stay strong,
The jagged edge of a broken champagne glass
gently kisses my love’s wrist,
Her blade of glass drowns between the lines of blood,
She offers a rare gift, it is the silent music of her soul,
Life blood red as rubies sold,
It flows from veins still fresh with love’s eternal truth.

Be not afraid...

Man is the cruellest animal,
He plays games of hot desire and sticky traps,
Like bee to honey are girls attracted to Love’s dreadful fall,
The only good heart a Man has
is the one he rips from a Woman,
Man tramples, kills and destroys with his blind lust,
It is Woman who generates the creation of newborn beauty,
Man thou art but a false-hearted beast.

Be not afraid...

Remember your strength and never give up the fight,
The individual has always had to struggle
to keep from being buried under the tribe,
If you try it, you will be lonely often,
and sometimes frightened,
Out there in the cold no ear listens,
Born crying from the womb, only a few die smiling.

Be not afraid...

No price is too high
to pay for the freedom of owning yourself,
Too costly is the price of living in a cage,
You need chaos in your soul
to give birth to a dancing star,
Children of love’s revolution
are sacrificed in the summer solstice harvest fields.

Be not afraid...

There is always some madness in love,
But there is also always some reason in madness,
Beware the thorns amongst the gold red rose,
In the shadow of the wall
Men become monsters,
Flowers twist into barbed wire,
Tear down this wall of deceit and lies.

Be not afraid...

For Death shall never conquer Love,
Where be thy sting, Death?
Grave thou hast no victory!
Every breath we take is a step closer to Death,
In the kiss of Death we finally wake up
from the hollow dream of life,
In the cold twilight my love all alone she sits.

Be not afraid...

Dance with darkness to find the diamond light,
Fear eats the soul,
It dines on your desires and drinks your hopes,
Out there it waits, in the dim edge of your day to day,
Come my love, as the hour ticks by and bye,
I will wait for you by the gates from beyond the edge of reason,
There will my love find her heart’s true desire.

Be not afraid...

Take good care of yourself,
My lady of the crystal lake,
Below these wintery waters swims
a world more precious than air,
Here, take my hand, hold me tight
as we two take to the lake for one last time,
No crying do we want at our going, only songs of bitter joy.

Be not afraid...*

©Rangzeb Hussain
Hal Loyd Denton Oct 2012
The kindest evidence the savior passed was the marks he bestowed in the most gentile articulation in this
His wise choices matched imperfection to our needs. One of the most telling attributes of women can be
Her hands but what if they are slightly marred the grace only flows to a deeper level quickness is
Replaced by deliberate action slower more thoughtful and profound a touch placed with this kind of
Feeling goes to a measure instantly felt it is not just the ordinary but a thing of force that unravels
Trouble mysteriously it finds the hidden knots looses them allows love to flow wide and full. Perhaps a
Man no longer strides with a power that has an assurance maybe he is depended on a stick for support
Where power is diffused it only changes channels it makes the heart stronger the eyes feel it too
Humanity in others is recessed the blunder the self efficiency drains from boisterous streams into calm
Assessment a flow that harnesses possibility not vain bravado that can at times wound those who are
Weaker and that are struggling. If times try men’s souls then imperfection can be a clarion call the
Placement of virtue at the lead where sometimes pride is the driving force this writing came from seeing
A woman walking in a sunny scene and she had a blotchy spot on her arm others could observe this and
Be to one degree or another repulsed but to the man who loves her it is a special calling card it
Touches makes the forces revel in a display that sets her apart from all others an instrument of sound
That separates from the den isolates carries a marker that generates tenderness, esteem, and honor
Thou art the tune and sound of a masterful violin play nothing else in my presence nothing else will do
Your imperfections makes another whole don’t ever fret over your special make up it is the breath and
The visitation of the divine in the human form boldly brushed in the shadow perfected by sun light.
A Thomas Hawkins Jan 2011
She lives in a cage
made of glass and tears
built by her own hand
over all these years

She looks out as life
seems to pass her by
and each tear that falls
is engraved with a "why?"

Why give so much
yet get no return
such a painful lesson
she took too long to learn

at last she can see
that her happiness matters
and prepares for the day
when this cage of hers shatters

Preparing herself
for a new better life
Where again she's herself
not just somebody’s wife

And daily it grows
the strength that she needs
as the cracks start to show
while she's planting the seeds

With hope comes momentum
which generates speed
thrusting her forward
to a day when she's freed

Hal Loyd Denton Jan 2012
A Place Called Harmony
This is just a spot in the road as the old saying goes but it does have history and it sets off of scenic highway one
Just a short country road then you turn on the street that goes up to the old creamery and the one
Building that still stands the place got its name from the fight between the creamy and the workers after
It was settled they changed the name to Harmony now the creamery is a gift shop and restaurant and
The only other building is occupied by the resident glass blower that allows tourist to come in and watch
Him create his pieces but what I can’t forget is the special guest that used to drop by for dairy products
Before continuing on to Hearst Castile as weekend guest names I know that receded into Hollywood’s
Past glory but still Rudolph Valintino and Jean Harlow create a sensation in the mind their shadows
Didn’t shine golden but in them was the unseen fixation here are the king and queen of the true
Golden age of Hollywood in harmony they were just real people for him no clothes of a desert sheik but
The smile was worth much more than the brandished desert sword the face and the physique that
Melted Untold thousands of lady fans they finally had it all in one person the desert prince who would
Conquer all fears and inhabitations they truly could float across a sea of sand end in the castle
Stronghold and all it cost was the price of a ticket to be enthralled enraptured and fall deliriously in love
All in a wonderful outing to the movies not bad we could use that kind of hero today instead of hearing
What a twit. Jean picks up where Rudolph leaves off anyone interested in sultry brooding gorgeous
Womanhood she delivered men found in her the gift to be a man stand on the mountain survey the
Lowlands then go and conquer take the good forge it into magnificence that matched the challenge she
Readily offered to speak a new language that captivates reverses the old and staid boring interaction so
Common because you just drift to the level you encounter all women possess the power to enliven and
Draw men up to higher levels jean could make it happen with the flutter of her eyes all women can do it
By the enriching highs that love easily generates to stand at the portal of a woman’s power know her
Grace and innocence puts drive and power in over drive the minute man sees it he becomes equal to
Race car driver’s airplane barnstormers of yesteryear a romantic figure looms and the woman finds it
exhilarating even some have been known to swoon all found and relived in simplicity in a place called

— The End —