"increases" poems
I think sometimes, about what it means to be transgender. I probe and probe for answers, because as the possibility for a new age of enlightenment and safety increases, the others want to know. I’ve come up with many answers, but I can hold to none. I don’t deserve to paint the definition of a culture with the limited experiences I’ve had. I don’t see myself in the transgender identified people allowed on television. I don’t see myself in the transgender identified people making news feeds and giving high profile interviews. And as my nation’s exposure to our culture increases, likely will their curiosity. Am I transgender? Do I have the right? I’ve heard doctors, psychiatrists, may refuse transgender patients access to hormone therapy based on how dedicated or convincing their portrayal of their identified gender. If you want to be a man or woman, you’ll have to look like the women and men on TV. If you want to be transgender, you’ll have to look like the trans identified people on TV. Every single one of us who has an active role as either participant or observer in our society is prey to the crisis of validity. Am I pretty enough? Am I strong enough? Am I brave enough? Mom enough? Dad enough? Competitive enough? Successful enough? Rich enough? **** enough? Pious enough? It never ends. We’re, as a nation of people, being crushed and compartmentalized by this ever present lens, looming over us, exploiting our weaknesses and fears so it may grow wider, and support itself as it follows us, seemingly forever into the future. And one of the worst fears this camera of existential torment exploits, in most of us every day, is, “Do I have a reflection?” “What does it look like?” “Do I look like me?” What does it mean to be transgender? I can’t get away from that question. But I don’t have an answer. There are varying degrees of anguish, depression, panic, anxiety, and other wonderful emotional states that creep up on you and breathe down your neck nearly every waking day. Absolute contempt for the lie of a life you’ve lived till now, and contempt for the fragments still stuck to you, in memories, attached to your body and mind. Fear of those in your own community who would purposefully humiliate, invalidate, or attack you, choosing their own universal moral code over the innate urge and capacity to support the health and continued well being of another human. A ******* neighbor. A ******* pupil. A ******* employee. A ******* sister, brother, son, daughter, mother, father, cousin, ******* blood. What is being transgender like? By my experiences, it’s just like being anyone else in the country. But with a lot more fear, death, exclusion and medication.
Feb 5, 2015
Feb 5, 2015 at 5:07 AM UTC
If "increasing knowledge increases sorrow,"
depression culminates from seeing clearly.
Jun 23, 2015
Jun 23, 2015 at 3:25 PM UTC
On whether technology has influenced the seeming rise in mental health issues: The concept of technology as separate than Nature is impossible to pin down, but to say that a lifetime of social pressures, advertising, television, and processed and genetically altered foodstuffs would not affect what the brain is used to, and what is was designed to do, is a non sequitur. Certainly an entirely separate set of influences also had negative consequences in the brains' of pre-man, but these were not of his own making, as he still lived in an organic environment, and therefore wasn't a part of the "feedback loop" we have going on with humans becoming the products of a man-made environment (one of the only things that sets us apart from most the animal kingdom). Either way, whatever you're doing you're getting better at it, so with the increase in time spent on the web and watching TV we are increasingly better at watching other people - being passive, non-accountable, constantly comparative and self-obsessed, impotent in light of the mass of information constantly flooding towards you - which the brain was not originally intended for. This seems obvious. So the fact that some people have things like crippling anxiety and OCD, or develop anti-social disorders and the like, seems like a logical result produced by a system (the brain) presented with new and inorganic conditions. On top of that, being a non-douche is naturally and evolutionarily based because it increases the likelihood that others will want to chilll'n'stuff and help you when you need it, but when transposed onto a crowded, fast-paced modernity it twists into something like flattery and competition to appear the most altruistic.
Sep 18, 2012
Sep 18, 2012 at 11:45 AM UTC
1
Monday Night Football on a Thursday.
Preseason. Johnny Manziel, running.
The nurse is a signal caller, too.
She flicks the wrist like Rodgers,
puts spin on it like Manning.
Once a rookie, now a seasoned vet.
2
Monday Night Football on a Thursday.
Network glitch? John Gruden, talking.
Anxiety lurks in the tall grass
still licking its paws. My head's out the game.
I've become an easy meal.
3
Monday Night Football on a Thursday.
If I had another John he'd go right here.
I miss my mother, and how she smiles
like my illness only increases my value,
puts gold in my veins instead of chemo.
Rex throws his clipboard, I lose my appetite.
4
Monday Night Football On A Thursday.
No more John's. Get over it.
Game's almost over. My head fresh from
the toilet, pieces of everything falling out
of me. Broken. Stumbling. At this moment,
football is enough.
Aug 21, 2015
Aug 21, 2015 at 4:04 AM UTC
Supposing that we lit some candles.
One for each person on this earth,
we would blow one out at a funeral
and light one up at a birth.
The world would grow darker
every time we lost a fighter
but with every new born baby
it gets just that bit brighter.
If you travelled into a city that was dark and gritty
you'd know that they didn't have many in their committee.
But.. If the light was brilliant and bright
it would send a beaming message throughout the night.
Saying "We are here! And we are alive!"
Not wanting to be alone we endeavor to collide
and form one giant, shining beacon
that burns so fierce we're sure it can't weaken
We sparkle and crackle and bend nature to our whim
the mighty fire so strong it just had to gave in.
With it we forged iron and buildings, cars and computers
and lit paths of lives to guide commuters
We lit up the universe as far as we could see
Improving our lives greatly with technology
obsessed with our professed fixture on practicality
we completely forgot about morality
Our fires forged weapons which we aimed next door
In one swift movement we saw the effects of war
6,000,000 candles extinguished
over arguments on which light is most distinguished
So fixated on this light we blinded our eyes
and the candle smoke filled the skies.
We thought candles were good, they elevated us higher
but now all we have is thick smoke and fire.
The fire consuming all in its route
the root of our lives follow suite.
It's eating the oxygen and burning the grass
the sand is melting and forming to glass.
The glass it shatters into a thousand pieces
more candles are lighting, the temperature increases
The resources decline, as do the candles
buried in ash a hundred thousand scandals.
Now only a few lit candles remain
as they slowly melt and fade away.
Nov 8, 2012
Nov 8, 2012 at 1:39 PM UTC
Never again,
Never ever again,
Will I ever type my work up!
I'll save myself from computer err
By handwriting my poems.
Then and only then
Will I put them to the computer!
The self hatred,
The hate for technology,
Increases as my rage boils over.
Realizing that all the words,
All my emotions and feelings,
So thoughtfully phrased and typed,
Are lost,
Is a feeling like no other.
Rewriting the words,
Trying to remember exact phrases,
Is just painful!
Never again,
Never ever again,
Will I ever type my work up!
Jun 13, 2014
Jun 13, 2014 at 6:35 AM UTC
Not an enigmatic smile
Like the constipated, condescending smirk
Adorning, and inexplicably adored, on the Mona Lisa's smug face;
But a smile to justify God's existence;
A smile that, when dazzlingly bestowed
Upon one fortunate soul, caught rabbit-like in its
Wondrous radiance, infinitesimally, and cumulatively,
Increases the World's joy. Where every living thing -
Whatever exists on the planet, imperceptibly hums
To a new, more celestial pitch -
An effervescent vibration celebrating Life's mysteries:
A reason for existence.
It's a smile to make an Alchemist cry -
Turning a leaden heart to gold in an instant.
It's a smile to make a mediocre poet struggle
To articulate an adequate description
Using all the hyperbole, simile and metaphor at his limited disposal.
Inestimably more brilliant, and more valuable,
Than the most flawless diamond ever found -
And, perhaps, just as rare.
Thankfully, a renewable resource,
Enabled to enlighten and heat
The recesses of any beneficiary's
Heart and invigorate their soul.
Helen may have caused a thousand ships to sail,
Destroying a nation as a consequence;
And Cleopatra nearly caused the collapse of an Empire;
But Tao's smile, unleashed in all its glory
Could melt the Antarctic ice-sheet -
Drowning us all in its magnificence.
Mayan's have a myth that states such a smile
Only comes around once every twelve thousand years,
In the Great Galactic turning.
Einstein's General Theory of Relativity
Is often mistakenly considered to concern gravity,
But is, in fact, concerned with one's relative position
To Tao's smile - an inescapable vortex of pleasure.
No music conceived of the fabled Celestial Spheres
Compares to the silent, ethereal harmonies tattooing my heart
Whenever, beacon-like, that smile flashes fleetingly in my direction.
And Heisenberg's Uncertainty Principle has not a Quantum core,
But revolves around the statistical uncertainty of being blessed
With the ephemeral thrill of a benign grim.
Mar 6, 2014
Mar 6, 2014 at 9:49 AM UTC
As humans
during our
first year of life
we are supposed
to learn
how to trust
other people
for the
basics
but what are
we supposed to do
as we get older
and the hurt
increases
and the pain
won't subside
what about
when
our learned
balance
of trust
versus
mistrust
goes away
what about
when we
lose ourselves
and we are not
children
anymore
Mar 20, 2015
Mar 20, 2015 at 12:09 PM UTC
Intro:
Start with a hook sharp enough to catch many fish.
Move into a broad outline of topic.
Add some examples to peek the interest.
End with a sentence that captures your thoughts.
(Start the way you feel it should be).
Body:
Flavorful topic sentence to open paragraph one.
State in detail specific examples and definitions.
Follow with a reference or two,
This keeps suspicion off you.
Keep same format for paragraph two and three.
(Continue on the feel that increases how you started).
(Or retrograde and start a new direction).
Conclusion:
Wake the reader back up with thesaurus found words.
State again the reason for your thoughts.
Honing specifically on what you want to say,
Without of course bringing in new info.
End with a memorable sign off.
(End with completing your thoughts).
(Or start a new idea entirely),
(Not leaving enough room for explanation).
Aug 21, 2013
Aug 21, 2013 at 2:47 AM UTC
It begins with the ominous clouds that roil and billow over the sky.
Then they darken:
Soft whites...
Seductive greys...
All the way to the purple black that haunts the skies on the cusp of a winter night.
The smell that follows this sinister nebula of vapor hanging over your head is that of life bringing relief.
The smell of dry earth mingling with that of the fresh water above reminds one of summer breezes, freedom and relaxation.
The cool but warm drops of moisture start gently stroking your shoulders and arms.
The strength increases, forcing you to squint as you take in the beautiful composition of nature above.
Soon you're covering your head as the rain pelts down and you race for shelter.
The puddles appearing on the floor disrupted by the matter consistently falling into them.
You peer into the world, completely changed, as you visibility decreases and smile, the metallic twangs to the rain hitting the patio roof fill your ears and soul with its rhythm and music.
Oct 16, 2018
Oct 16, 2018 at 12:14 AM UTC
I have found, yes, I have found the wealth of the Divine Name's gem.
My true guru gave me a priceless thing. With his grace, I accepted it.
I found the capital of my several births; I have lost the whole rest of the world.
No one can spend it, no one can steal it. Day by day it increases one and a quarter times.
On the boat of truth, the boatman was my true guru. I came across the ocean of existence.
Mira's Lord is the Mountain-Holder, the suave lover, of whom I merrily, merrily sing.
6.2k
By: Cedric McClester
When Trump and Carson fall
And the foolishness ceases
Rubio will be there
To pick up the pieces
He’s salivating
As his chance increases
He’s now looking at curtains
And White House leases
When Trump and Carson fall
And the race is in shambles
He’ll bet his house
You see. The man gambles
He’s not alone
Cuz there’s many other examples
Of men who’ve picked up swatches
And other samples
When Trump and Carson fall
And they look towards the rest
Rubio’s convinced
That he alone is the best
In fact he’s thinking
Nevertheless
It will be him and not the others
There’s no contest
When Trump and Carson fall
As inevitably they must
And Marco Rubio watches the others
Bite the dust
As they complain
Then spit and cuss
Marco will be the one
To lead the rest of us
Cedric McClester, Copyright © 2015. All rights reserved.
Nov 11, 2015
Nov 11, 2015 at 5:44 AM UTC
A day consists of 24 hours
1,440 minutes
86,400 seconds
That average person takes about 20,000 breaths a day
Every second of every day is based around my recovery
Mind games
Distractions
How many times I can look in the mirror and tell myself no
At least 4
Maybe 5
3 on a good day
A person blinks almost 28,800 times in 24 hours
But sometimes I just stare
So I can focus on something other than my recovery
My addiction
My need for something other than what I can't have
I can hear my thought process
Sometimes it's quiet
Like when I'm asleep
Other times it's the only thing I hear
So I call her because she knows how to turn down the volume
She is my recovery
Because even for a split second everything is perfect when I see her
The amount of breaths I take double
The number of times I blink goes down rapidly
My need for recovery increases exponentially
She is the calm that flows over my body
The rush of oxygen to my brain
When she talks to me my number of bad days plummet
Because she loves me and I love her
So by hurting me I hurt her
My recovery is an ongoing process
That consists of 24 hours
1,440 minutes
86,400 seconds
Of me trying not to hurt myself
1 day turns into 1 victory
And when I tell her that over the phone I can sense that she is smiling
So 1 day really turns into 2 victories
Sep 28, 2015
Sep 28, 2015 at 11:06 PM UTC
Stop describing your terrible ****** encounters
I know you've had other women since I ended things with you
You're acting like you don't have magazines stashed under your bed
What, when I was with you your hand was your secret lover
And now it's not enough?
I'm so cold. I just want the affirmation of another soul's proximity
Is anyone out there?
The spinning feeling increases its tempo
The awful silence crescendos
Bring me back, bring me back
I miss the Saturday night I spent on mushrooms.
Everything was alright in the world
Anonymous carefree the world was ablaze
I convinced myself I was a fire spirit and you were a deer
I'm not addicted: I only tried it once.
All I want is a cigarette and to go back to sleep.
The world will turn without me
Your heart will be cold either way
Why and I vying for your attentions?
I tell myself I'm too antisocial
Until I have asked every single last one of my faceless friends to come get me
I guess it's alright to take some time for yourself
Is this a manifestation of grief or depression?
Is anyone out there?
I prefer the company of strangers to those who I've already become disillusioned with
Will anyone feel my gentle tugging and lend me a hand?
Just a coffee
Just a smoke
Just a walk through the warming days
Spring cleaning
I've successfully ignored your texts for long enough
I think I'll sleep with you
Not because I think that's all I'm good for.
Is it really "being used" if you're aware of it?
Am I not using you as well?
I can't decide if this will turn out well.
To you: Help.
Apr 18, 2014
Apr 18, 2014 at 3:13 PM UTC
Isn’t it
Wonderful,
The suffocating love of a hundred people
They want you, what’s best for you
What’s best for you, what is best for you?
Rejecting them means rejecting love,
but you are in short supply of you
As demand increases, so does price
the price of you
the price is you.
Sanity sets in, escape’s let out
every night let it out,
beats staying in
Some are in short supply of love
********
Not you
The suffocating love of a hundred people let you know
Across the room, across the country
a hundred people can’t help
shedding ‘bout one sixty does
only, you have to shed it
anchors only work when attached
love
it pulls your judgment, mind from its foundation
wants to make your choices
wants to make your coffee
you start to save you,
in a container with a seal
the shiny latch makes a pop noise
You can see through the otherside
No one can get in,
Not with the pop noise
Its where you keep you
in the house, Close the door
pressure mounts
let it out in
drops,
thoughts and blood
watch it heal, know you’re better
lets you know,
you are better, you are better
You are Better,
better isn’t with help, it doesn’t come with age
it’s a choice you make
the suffocating love of a hundred people
they pile on blankets, keeps you warm
but at a hundred blankets deep you aren’t moving
move.
Don’t think about me, don’t think about him
Just move and keep moving,
roots and anchors
Learn which is which
Remember which is which
Act on which is which
you grow roots, anchors are placed upon you
usually around the neck region.
Box up all the memories, store them if you like
But don’t stay attached, burn if necessary
Anchors only work if they’re attached
You can’t ‘be ready’ for something that’s already happened
It’s the past in those boxes,
the fond death of past nothings,
Life only exists in the future,
Not to be too dramatic but we’re dying, right now
in the present
we breath out life out as we speak
Only the future has life, stored as potential
just take the steps
cut out the cancer
if you want to be ready for something, be ready for what’s next
May 16, 2010
May 16, 2010 at 9:46 AM UTC
She is like a fire in my soul, I crave her
Flesh against flesh, only she livens me
A slave to my lust, entranced by her beauty
I have a need to see her in pain
And in my mind, these visions I have of her
Kneeling before me, expectantly waiting
With bruises and bites, the marks of my love
Unsatisified, my longing increases
An ordinary name turns to a divine symphony
When uttered, but only with her in mind
This goddess I must make my slave
Though she'll be forever the one in control
Waking dreams of sordid acts
Fill my mind each night and day
I close my eyes and watch her body writhe
With agony and ecstasy
I pull her closer into me
And feel a pleasure so intense I wonder if I've died
She begs me to call her a *****
My hands around her neck
As I feel each breath travel in and out
And study the curve of her back
Consumed and enthralled, she whispers my name
My name is the sound of victory
Dark queen of desire, let us bathe in this fire
Of passion burning blissfully
In this, our inferno of celestial sin
Where unbridled lust meets uncovered skin
Her deafening rapture that shakes her throughout
Is all that can quell my burning within
Oct 6, 2014
Oct 6, 2014 at 5:30 PM UTC
XXXII. TO SELENE (20 lines)
(ll. 1-13) And next, sweet voiced Muses, daughters of Zeus, well-
skilled in song, tell of the long-winged (35) Moon. From her
immortal head a radiance is shown from heaven and embraces earth;
and great is the beauty that ariseth from her shining light. The
air, unlit before, glows with the light of her golden crown, and
her rays beam clear, whensoever bright Selene having bathed her
lovely body in the waters of Ocean, and donned her far-gleaming,
shining team, drives on her long-maned horses at full speed, at
eventime in the mid-month: then her great orbit is full and then
her beams shine brightest as she increases. So she is a sure
token and a sign to mortal men.
(ll. 14-16) Once the Son of Cronos was joined with her in love;
and she conceived and bare a daughter Pandia, exceeding lovely
amongst the deathless gods.
(ll. 17-20) Hail, white-armed goddess, bright Selene, mild,
bright-tressed queen! And now I will leave you and sing the
glories of men half-divine, whose deeds minstrels, the servants
of the Muses, celebrate with lovely lips.
5.3k
I miss my childhood everyday
This missing increases day by day
I miss those days of happiness
which were full of joy and naughtiness
I miss my grandpa's magnificent love
I miss my grandma's food serve
I miss my village and my darling home
Now I am sad and alone
I was used to go garden daily evening
where I see the day changing
I play their with my friends
who were perfect in that and were legends
I miss stealing of mango from trees
I miss those mountainy friendly trees
I miss play of hide and seek
we hide on guava's great peak
I miss my fields and ponds
I miss that sweet smell of my lands
I miss the scolds of elders
I miss my village builders
I miss my grandpa's old shoulders
I miss my village's brave soldiers
I miss my cow's sweet milk
I miss my cranky and playful tricks
No one can return my childhood
And that hunt for fruits in woods
I have left my childhood very far
But I need life like that with no bar
I am hungry for that love of village
my hunger becomes more with age
In this world of stress and worries
I want back my childhood glories
Life is such a name
That plays with everyone, a different game
But in every game there is some hopeful ray
I miss my childhood everyday.
(27 march 2010, Lucknow)
Sep 15, 2012
Sep 15, 2012 at 6:28 PM UTC
Life in Duality and Non-Duality
Birth is the first gate.
Death is the second gate.
Between these two gates lies the path of life
travelled by all sentient beings.
All are born.
All will die.
Between death and rebirth lies the unameable state
where the next life is chosen, determined by the individual Isnesses
stockpile of accumulated Karmas,
Good and Bad.
All human beings,due to their accumulated Karmas,
both Good and Bad,
must pass through this unameable state
and be reborn into their next life.
All beings accumulated Karmas,Good and Bad,
are assessed in that state and that assessment determines the next life they are reborn into.
There are NO exceptions to this process ever.
Karmas,Good and Bad,are accumulated in each life.
Karmas ,Good and Bad,are the result of the morality
of each individuals actions.
Karma is of three types.
Good Karma which ties each individual
to the Wheel of Incarnated life,death and rebirth.
Bad Karma which ties each individual
to the Wheel of Incarnated life,death and rebirth.
Neutral Karma is the only way that each individual
to can free themselves from
the Wheel of Incarnated life,death and rebirth.
Both Good and Bad Karmas tie each and every human being
to the endless cycle of birth,life,death and rebirth as a human being.
Only Neutral Karma can free each individual from
the endless cycle of birth,life ,death and rebirth as a human being.
Neutral Karma is only realisable through the practise
of the Six Fundamental Yogas.
Neutral Karma is the only way to erase both Good and Bad Karmas.
The practise of the Six Fundamental Yogas increases the BrainBloodVolume to the level of that of Foetus in the Womb,which causes the Mind and Conditioned Identity
to dissolve,temporarily or permanently.
Those individuals,female and male equally,
whose practises of the Six Fundamental Yogas cause
the Mind and Conditioned Identity to dissolve temporarily or permanently will enter into union with the Isness of the Universe
as an equal,temporarily or permanently.
Those individual human beings who pass their lives accumulating Good and Bad Karmas are unable to escape from the endless cycle of birth,life,death and rebirth.
For the overwhelming majority of human beings who refuse to generate Neutral Karma,by practising the Six Fundamental Yogas,life can only be lived, in the state of
Mind created Duality and Non-Duality.
They are unable to enter into the state of union with the Isness of the Universe as an equal.
The permanent feature of such a life lived in either Duality or Non-Duality is the ceaseless deep suffering of being separated from the Isness of the Universe as an equal.
For those very few human beings who,through the practise of the Six Fundamental Yogas,have dissolved Mind and Conditioned Identity,permanently,life is lived in union with
the Isness of the Universe as an equal.
Life is lived in the state of Experiential Knowingness
which is called Separate and Merged.
They live out their last lives in this realm in union with Isness of the Universe as an equal.
www.thefournobletruthsrevised.co.uk
.
Sep 14, 2014
Sep 14, 2014 at 1:11 AM UTC
This Distant Light
by Walid Khazindar
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Bitterly cold,
winter clings to the naked trees.
If only you would free
the bright sparrows
from your fingertips
and release a smile―that shy, tentative smile―
from the imprisoned anguish I see.
Sing! Can we not sing
as if we were warm, hand-in-hand,
sheltered by shade from a sweltering sun?
Can you not always remain this way,
stoking the fire: more beautiful than expected, in reverie?
Darkness increases and we must remain vigilant
since this distant light is our sole consolation ...
this imperiled flame, which from the beginning
has constantly flickered,
in danger of going out.
Come to me, closer and closer.
I don't want to be able to tell my hand from yours.
And let's stay awake, lest the snow smother us.
Walid Khazindar was born in Gaza City. He is considered to be one of the very best Palestinian poets; his poetry has been said to be "characterized by metaphoric originality and a novel thematic approach unprecedented in Arabic poetry." He was awarded the first Palestine Prize for Poetry in 1997. Keywords/Tags: Arabic, translation, Arab, Palestine, Palestinian, Gaza, distant, light, flame, fire, autumn, winter, trees, birds, sparrows, fingertips, smile, sing, shade, sun, fire, darkness, hand, hands, snow
May 29, 2020
May 29, 2020 at 4:24 AM UTC
Its been a year
A wonderful year
A beautiful year
An amazing year
Through thick and thin
Through Joy and sorrow
We have made it and I plan to do it again
With you by my side I will always be ready for the morrow
Some people need time away from the one they love after only a year
But I find I’m having quite the opposite effect
Each day, hour, minute that passes by to you I want to get ever more near
I deeply hope to you I have the same affect
I’ve never before experienced the feelings I have for you
I find it amazing how the slightest hint of your perfume brings a smile to my face
And as I wrap my arms around you I know this love I feel is true
For each second I hold you my heart steadily increases its pace
You are always there for me
You always listened to me when I was in my darkest times
The way out you would always help me see
Your voice during those times sounded as beautiful as a set of chimes
I will be yours and you will be mine
For this year and years to come
Together we are the perfect design
Our hearts as one beating like a single drum
Together you and me
Will make as close to perfect family
As anyone ever did see
An example of how to live we will be
Its been a year
A great year
A fast year
An eventful year
Sep 18, 2011
Sep 18, 2011 at 12:58 AM UTC
Sleep is timed to the minute,
my breaths let out lazy smoke
icicles make goose bumps into paragraphs
books written on my arms through yellow mist
bare feet in the morning on my rooftops
counting international planes in the sky.
My migrant bones take to the sky,
each moderate minute
that passes by on my rooftops,
increases the rawness of smoke
like lung-fulls of lemon mist
spewing a nebula of paragraphs.
In the murk of paragraphs
red papery ashes explode into the sky
leaving a cloud of syllable mist.
The last fragile minute
reduces my shivers to smoke,
a winter shell of shoulders on rooftops.
Double exposed film across rooftops
turn silhouettes into paragraphs,
a congregation of vapours and smoke
speaking soliloquies into the sky.
I am minute,
dissipating into canary mist.
Billows of ocean mist
make my fingers melancholy on rooftops
where a tidal minute
freezes salty foam paragraphs
a vacation from the sky,
my mossy perch and violet smoke.
Heliotropic smoke
spirals against dense mist;
fine rain blinding the sky
soaking lemonade rooftops.
My bed of paragraphs
curls into an illegible minute.
The lilac smoke in my eyes is almost minute.
A mustard mist wrinkles the paragraphs,
like the purple sky dropping over the rooftops.
Feb 16, 2014
Feb 16, 2014 at 11:46 PM UTC
*Moon swept itching dark
Twilight, sunrises curtain
pink lids - open eyes
Crossing the shallows
trout fingerling feed at dawn
White dots steep hill path
My stride increases
a shadow skipping pebbles
lone thoughts dismissed
White dappled ginger
Ungainly long knobbed legs,
rolling - then sitting aware
Midday, pours blue heat
Standing shading their new young,
across clear pebbled flow
Smile’s triumphant glow
rests briefly on sweet green bank
Silver flash of joy
Dusk - apart painted,
eight queued paired mare and foal
Foliage lined dark black*
May 23, 2010
May 23, 2010 at 12:34 PM UTC
The Great Debate started,
Parliament was the open forest,
electors were divided into two groups—
Sir Fox's, and
The Lion's,
The first group wanted to overthrow the Lion
from the sovereign head of the forest,
It was a tough job to confront Lion directly,
So, Sir Fox, appointed a Monkey as the Chief campaigner,
and that monkey appointed other monkeys in the business,
Scaring them with a story of vanishing trees, and living on
the land increases the mortality rate if Lion Party continues.
Monkey, the chief campaigner exclaimed,
“We are not living in the rule of law but in the rule of Lion,
All are equal, but the continuous target of a particular community,
Like a beautiful deer, by another community in majority
should be banned, Deers bring historic and aesthetic
significance to the forest
And need to be treated as the same,”
Deers bellowed gleefully hearing this.
Cows felt hurt,
their exclusion from Monkey’s speech
proved to be a setback to the Fox’s Party,
Cows were the most targeted community
by the Carnivores, everyone in the forest knew,
Potential voters were lost to Lion’s Party.
Polarising speeches of Chief continued,
It brought Rhinoceros to its side,
Seeing rhino in political rallies,
Hippopotamus chipped in,
To counter the increasing weight
Political advisor of Lion, i.e, Tiger,
persuaded Elephant to become an official
member of their party.
Hate speeches increased in numbers
Giraffe, the bearer and upholder of law,
Overlooked everything,
the long neck looked tilted towards
an ideology.
Rumours became truth,
truth became rumour
Monkey was good in it,
And an army of monkeys were excellent.
Parrots, Pigeons, Peacock,
**** Cuckoo, Cat,
Loved the importance they got,
Disseminated the Fox loving songs.
The listeners felt threatened,
They had an enemy living between them
and they were considering them friends,
They thanked the Parrot, Pigeon, Peacock
for pointing them out.
Now, biped hated quadruped,
Quadruped hated reptiles,
Reptiles did the same to amphibians,
And in this way the whole animal kingdom
danced in chaos,
The fiery speeches of Sir Fox helped
in creating illusion,
The slogan of the Man as a common enemy
was changed to, Feline as a common enemy,
Felines joined Sir Fox’s Party,
And Canines ran to Lion’s Party,
Obvious was difficult to observe
Obscure was easy to see.
to be continued
Oct 23, 2021
Oct 23, 2021 at 3:22 PM UTC
Ebola has my name on it, the Doctor
Who came back with Ebola
In New York, yes you heard me right
His name is Mr. Spencer, I’m a
Spencer, he rode the subway in the dark
And he went bowling a week after
He came back, and he only went
To the hospital very sick
This is dementia of the public system
And the main stream media
Is being blacked out by the Czar
Appointed by Obama, he’s a lawyer by trade
Are you surprised that Ebola
Can hitch a ride with a Doctor without borders?
There are no borders for a pandemic
It increases exponentially
And peaks sometime in 2017
I’m sorry to be the first to break
The News, but Ebola is running wild
Somewhere in New York, somewhere near you
There could be a city that has it already
And do you think the media would let you know?
Oct 23, 2014
Oct 23, 2014 at 10:45 PM UTC