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A poetic drama (One Scene)

( Egypt’s parliamentary farce)

(The spokesperson on the presidium strikes the table with a wooden hammer and asks for order. Participants become quiet.
Raise your hands and reflect your views on today’s point of argument— The Grand Ethiopian Renaissance Dam (GERD ) on Blue Nile. Various people representatives raise hands,
The spokesman says let us start with Mr. Hydrologist over there.)

Egypt’s globally
Topmost voluminous
Underground
Reserve of water
We could use later.
So via our media outlets
It is better
We dupe
The global community with
Much-touted chatter
“To Egyptians
Demand of water
To cater
Blue Nile is
A life and
Death matter!
As thicker than blood
Is water! ”

Of course,
From the Mediterranean
Or Red Sea
We could extract, desalinate
And use water,
But why should
We talk about that?
We better
Ask on Blue Nile
A farfetched exclusive right.

Though hydropower dam
Has no significant harm
We shall flout it
In a way it runs
Out of charm.
As  the Nobel peace winner
Premier  Abiy Ahmed put it
"Almost all Egyptians
Enjoy the supply of electricity,
While over half of Ethiopians
Are thirsty of such necessity.

Tragically, to date
Using a lamp
Covers most of Ethiopia's map.

For the rational,
It is a source of worry
Innumerable Ethiopian mothers
Still on their backs carry
Backbreaking firewood
So that go to school
Their children could.
What we say
Is if you  are remiss to help
don't stand on our way
While we're flapping wings
From fettering poverty
To break away!"


Also via a conduit
Diverting Blue Nile
Across the Sahara desert
A financial return
Egypt could get
That delights its heart.
The water from
Upstream countries
We do not buy
But paradoxically sell it
We shouldn’t why?

Like Israel
Using drip irrigation
Must not
Draw our attention.
We shall be extravagant
For Blue Nile’s water
Is abundant.
Unchecked lavishly
It must flow!
Pertaining to that
We have to remain adamant.

Also, the
Silt accumulation
In Aswan dam
Could be disastrous
The outcome,
Yet we have
To cry foul
This challenge-averting
GERD must not soon
Generate region-
much-needed power!

Though it is 50 % of the
Annual trans boundary
Water outflow
Other water-generating countries
Are willing to let go
Unwilling anything below,
Kind Ethiopia ventures
Holding only 13% of
The yearly flow to follow,
However, ingratitude
Must feature our attitude.
This may
Provoke a  dismay
But attention
We shall not pay.

(A tumultuous applause shook the parliament. Once more the spokesman asks for order. Then he invites a former diplomat saying “ it is your turn.”)

Once, by famine hit
When Ethiopia   asked
“Help me not why?”,
While others extended help,
Mocking, we did turn
A blind eye.

As our former bent
Whenever Ethiopia
Seeks  grant
From international
Development Institutions
On grounds of
Fighting poverty and drought,
Greasing palms  
We shall bring
Ethiopia’s plans to harness
Blue Nile to naught!
Use we shall
Many a phony diplomat
With a tongue of honey
And a heart of gall.

Tact we do not lack
So cautiously,
Our sanctimonious mask
Our targets
May not hack,
All out
We shall engage in
Self-selling talk!

From all things that fall
In the technical matrices
We shall make a sham politics.

(He sits enjoying a standing ovation. The spokesman invites a representative with a military background.)

We shall blow our
Trumpet in the air
“In lieu of
The reasonable 3 years,
Cooperatively,
From 4 to 6 years
To fill the dam
If Ethiopians dare,
War on it
We shall declare!
Barefacedly claiming
Fifteen to 20 years
Is what is fair!

In such infeasible way
Before it sees the day’s light
GERD will suffer blight.”

(He hiccups and continues)

“With a bellicose bent
To remind ourselves
Deliberately we shall fail
So many times Ethiopia
Chased out every
Egypt’s invading army
Between its legs
Shoveled its tail.
(Ex. Isma'il Pasha/ 1874 –1876
Gundet &Gura March 7–9, 1876)
But why should we care
Arsenal support
Hypocrites, who want to exploit
In the Middle East
Egypt’s political purport,
Will bring to our port.
The current catchphrase
"I can't breathe"
Demonstrates hypocrites'
Justice has no teeth!

We shall
Continue to brag
About GERD’s full actualization
Foot to drag.
I’m afraid
If we strike GERD,
On Aswan dam
Ethiopia will certainly inflict
A similar harm.
Its infantry
Acid-tested hero
Within finger-counted days
Will march into Cairo.

Its top official or
One from its mob
Cold blow up in Egypt a bomb.

We have to understand
As its former PM
Meles put it
“It is not
Its football squad
Ethiopia will deploy
On the terrain rough
When the going
Gets tough!”

We shouldn't worry
We have no history
Of battle front victory.
Poking our nose here and there
(Sudan, Somalia, Yemen,
Libiya, Palestine, Israel)
We shall make political trouble
As we are averse to self
-politics burgeoning dabble.

(He sat after enjoying a heartwarming laughter from the audience. The spokesman himself could not help unzipping his lips and invites a hoary headed historian.)

Subjects of colonization
It is our
Historic right
For the hanging-over
Mentality of predators
To fight
“Gobbling down
All resources
Is our right!”
We shall espouse
Unjust and inequitable deal
“Ethiopia fairly
GERD must not fill!”
We must gamble
Regarding the water division
There has to be a deal
That serves our colonial
Legacy a sign and seal.

There is nothing we hate
Than the following sentiment
Pan Africanists activate.
"We have to get
Behind our back
Days dark!"

(He sits accompanied by an affirmative nods. The spokesman invited Miss Environmentalist "it is your turn." "Thank you for the opportunity,"  she said and  standing she scanned the congregants
before speaking)

In parrying evaporation
GRERD being built in a gorge
Than Aswan Dam
In the desert
Draws better attention.
Though logical,
This we do not wish to hear
So we shall turn a deaf ear
Saying
“Your nuisance
We no longer bear!”

Of course
To avoid siltation
In GERD
Also to ensure
The continuous flow of water
Towards Green development
Ethiopia is making an unprecedented &
Unflagging movement.

Yes , Yes
Green development
Draws rain
Though that is
To our gain
From expressing
Appreciation to
Ethiopia’s timely move
We shall refrain.

From the voice of
Sagacious leaders of
Africa
It is better
To heed a hypocrite
From America;
That could not be a shame
In the political game.

(She takes a seat enjoying a high five. The spokesman invites a parliamentarian who is a member of the Arab league.)

As Sudan poses
A rational gait
Its voice has weight.
Our sugar-coated talk
It may not buy
Hence, the fuel-intoxicated
Gluttonous Arab League
Its voice
Needs to raise high.
White supremacists
Must try hard
To sweet talk Sudan
To our side.
Otherwise
Creating political heat
In to two its people
We have to split
To unseat
Its incumbent president
Popular support that ride.
This  insidious tide
From Sudanese mob
We have to hide!

We have a toy League
That doesn’t ask itself
“ Why
War-fleeing Arabs ,
Shunned by Arabs,
Seek a safe haven
Under Ethiopia’s sky?
Why  of all
In Prophet Mohammed's eyes
Ethiopia stands tall?”
That no one could deny
But we must
Neither wonder  nor ponder
“Why
For own advantage
Arabs-eating-Arabs
That commit  
Political suicide
Could not
Stand by
The reasonable
Ones’ side?”

Creating this and  
That pretext
We shall derail
The all-out task
To bring GERD’s to end,
At long last
To make it
As good as dead.

Why should we care?
If Ethiopia or the region is
Thirsty of hydropower
In so far as
Our conceited
Pride remains
In glory tower.


Moreover if soured
Pushed to the end or angry
Reflect  we must not
Ethiopians could tame
Its this or that tributary.

(When a wealthy merchant raised his hand the spokesman gave him a green light to speak.)

Pampering with money
Fifth columnists cruel
Let us keep on using
In Ethiopia
As runs the adage
Divide and rule,
Along ethnic
And religious lines
To  drive a wedge
So that Ethiopians will not
Come to the same page,
While turmoil in their country
Opts to rage.

We could ignore the fact
Ethiopians soon display
Unity and solidarity
When threatened gets
Nation’s  sovereignty.
In Ethio-Somali war
Ethiopians Karamara’s Victory
Talks loud such history.

I'm afraid
Our  divisive action could
Bring together Ethiopians,
Be it on left or right end,
Their sovereignty to defend.


Robbed of
Their alluvial soil
By a prodigal river
Ethiopia’s  farmers
Undergo a hard toil
If we are asked for that
Compensation to pay
“No!”
We  have  to say.

Note that
Using industrialization
Like Japan
Develop we can
Than irrigating  
A- scorching-sun
-smoldered land
Full of sand.

As the  jealously insane
What should worry Egypt
Must not  be what  it could lose
But  Ethiopia gain.
What I fear
In the diplomatic arena
With GERD Ethiopia
Will come forth
Shifting gear.
When Ethiopians' development
Proceeds apace
Ethiopia could Egypt displace.
So on its development
We  have to pose a roadblock
Or a spoke.
.

(This much  farce is enough for today .Parliament is dismissed says the spokesman.)////////
Science-based approach visa-vis politics- based approach. Colonial legacy has no room in the 21th century
Bee Jun 2018
To this day,
She can still feel the poison in her veins.
It may only be a ghost
But the reminiscence of her past still harbor the same violent sting
Constantly reminding her
Of when her life changed forever
And what she’s become.

To this day,
She hauls vivid memories wherever she goes.
Memories only allowed to appear
Because of one choice,
That wasn’t even her own.
“Don’t worry,” she was told.
“This will make everything better,” she heard.
Lie after lie, spat right in her face.
The harm they caused wasn’t intentional, she knew.
Trauma that manifested through a veiled attempt to heal.
But by ignoring her desperate pleads,
“Please don’t make me go,”
They were to blame for her suffering.

The girl knew she was a hopeless cause.
Even the most skilled doctors could not help her.
She was too far broken.
Only a few delicate threads held her together,
Stitching up the pain she endured for countless years.
The girl would have been happy to leave them undisturbed,
If she had known what misery lied ahead.

The hospital room may as well be a prison cell
And the doctors the executioners.
Fear was the first form of torture laid upon her.
The girl’s worst nightmare crept its way up from the abyss that was her mind.
This was the thing that would cure her?
An evil, crooked, nasty beast was her savior?
And she had to somehow trust it with her life?

The pungent smell of the first swipe of alcohol across her skin
Followed by the guileful ***** of a needle.
A plastic tube nestled in her arm
Would be the girl’s only companion for the next few days.
It too, promised her relief,
But only offered agony.

Then came the venom.
Empty promises fed throughout her body.
Miracle cures for all her ailments.
But no matter how the doctors dressed them up,
She could feel their truth.
Poison filled the girl’s delicate body,
And she could not escape their wrath.

Excruciating pain, radiating all throughout her body.
Her head was dizzy,
Vision blurred,
Muscles weak,
Lungs constricted,
Stomach lurching,
Throat burning,
She could not have imagined something worse.
Over and over again,
More and more drugs were pumped through her IV.
She almost forgot about the pain they were trying to treat.
A battle was waging through her veins.
Eventually, one of these chemicals would cure her,
Right?

Days felt like years.
An eternity spent inside of the hospital.
Till the young girl could fight no longer.
She wanted to scream until her throat burst.
It wasn’t fair.
She was so young,
Too young to be tortured against her will.

She spat lies right back at the doctors.
“I feel better” was written on a white flag.
But the war was not over.
No, scars were not only etched into her body,
But her entire world had suffered the consequences of battle.
And she could only watch as it crumbled away.

The pain left her debilitated
Unable to function.
For the first time in her short life,
Her perfection slipped away.
She was forced to abandon activities she once loved,
Neglecting friends that counted on her.
The eyes of her peers were filled with disgust,
They only saw her as sick.

Confined to her bed for most days
The girl was utterly alone
With only her pain as her only friend.
When asked how she’s doing,
She couldn’t help but utter,
“Fine.”
It was easier than describing what she’d been through,
Impossible for others to understand.
She was completely alone.
Her suffering was disregarded,
Everyone was going through something worse it seemed.
She knew they expected her to be strong enough
To fight the battle in solitude.

Then came the anger.
A vicious spirit clawing at her sanity.
It almost felt like a dream.
This situation was inequitable,
What had she done to deserve such suffering?
She had spent her entire life helping others,
Offering her wisdom
While tending to her own ailments.
Now, suggestions were being forced down her throat.
Try this, try that.
As if they knew what was best for her.
How dare they.

The girl felt her life crumble away,
Like sand falling right through her fingertips.
Her heart ached of desperation.
She wore a fake smile most days,
And did her best to keep up with life,
Hoping for anything that might rescue her from pain.
Even if it meant death.


And to this day, she can still feel the poison in her veins.
She knows that the sting may never dissipate.
A vile reminder of pain she was forced to endure.
Leaving invisible battle scars,
And a prayer that one day,
She might be free.
this was my first endeavor into the world of poetry -- a description of the most vivid memory of my young life.
The way to the city
on both sides of the street
was discretely displayed
then replayed
as recollections of the mundane
inequitable and respectable
a ubiquitous ritual
with screams of laughter
cries from shouting houses
and grimacing faces.
Nat Lipstadt Aug 2019
for you, of you: you’ve been between my ears

close enough to being on my mind,
almost the same thing,
though that’s unfairly inequitable, we both agree,
for when in an ear one opines, too oft it escapes
out the other side, only a tree ring mark left,
someone was here, present

as for the Confucius confusion in

ok, who’s writing this poem to whom,

cause it’s never clear between us
who is
asking the questions,
since the answers come
demanded and undemanding,
fomenting newer questions and follow through,
before, as well as,
‘please sir, may I have some more?’

the mutualizing game tasking begin-began-begun,
for this, our lovely crazy teasing of our-thing, ago began,
don’t recall who or how intimated-initiated
this oil drilling exploration,
who is the annointer and who is the annointed,
who seeds the plants, picks the fruit, and who
gets paid with cloves of poems, by the bushel

you say I’ve been on your mind,
which we now have both pointed out
is somewhat extraordinary since,
the sight lines are drawn through
long distance cloudscapes that travel
through underground cables,
making everything said,
fallow and rich-ending, deeply frustrating,
impossible to see the outcome

clouds usually imaginary, (not like now),
making visibility normative poor,
unlike the real ones I’m flying at the moment through,
ensconced in front row seat 1F, heading northwest passage,
passing by so ridiculously close to where
you are minding the soil,
as I am
mining your soul’s soil, tilling it between the ears,
of you, by me, for us, and the excited sadness
makes me happy and yes, inequitably, again,
hopping-mad

because your breadcrumbs and dark Swiss chocolate bars are
scattered and defaced, bitten and chewed, lovingly licked melting,
we who cover our tracks too well;
but what I do have, makes me ravenous,
having read all your poems,
in random order and then one more time,
sequentially

I see your history, near escapes and resurrections,
in fine grained moody minutiae punctuated by huge gaps in between,
that we must cream fill with clouds of wondrous loving curiosity,
a torture so exquisite, only the gods could have invented it like
Sunday Night Football,
and crazy sayings,
like I love you too...

been on my mind and I imagine you
hot and sweaty,
bent over, aching tired, from
picking weeds (gotcha),
when sudden one of us stands up straight, back aching,
screaming out loud
this is crazy, and follows up with
a *** Darius type proclamation,
who’s writing this poem to whom
issued to the upwards-skywards,
but addressed to ourselves,
the poets

as we search clouds by the thousands,
is that you in that cloud, in that poem,
I look down thinking that, that must be,
the plot of green and dusted light brown ground
where she has gone into hidey-hole hiding,
disappearing for months at a time,
before arising for the sticking of me
in the sticking place,
wounding me fresh with brand new poems
scandalous and imaginous,
and our imaginations are both
too skilled

so here I close, overwritten, overridden, too long,
overshot my imaginary bounds, so one
pulls down the shade over the oval window
through which too many great stories have commenced,
and ended

the thick cumulus shouting
as we look up
as we look down,
saying “enough, you crazy people,
your poems tell too much,”

perhaps, find me in that
next bite of herbs buttered,
and then ask (of course)

who’s writing this poem to whom?

then breathe out, exhaling me a
breath-poem up above, to where I’m hiding
just as I, am sending one to you,
earth falling from thirty thousand feet,
coming to rest on your mind,
in between your ears,
friend

<>

8-6-19
somewhere in the sky, clueless, heading north by northwest
Natalie Neo Jun 2016
what do i do?
with this love i do not deserve.

should one seek to love ferociously
or to shamelessly accepts inequitable love?

is it more important to love
or to be loved
if they were to be mutually exclusive.

i chose the latter, selfishly.

i realised my love only
hurt you,
when i stopped one day.
Chelsea Nov 2012
A bleeding heart
expires posthaste
spawning a wretched,
once radiant face
The inequitable oracle
simpers her sardonic ways
and demands, stone-hearted
the temples of my soul
be razed.
Julian Feb 2019
12/30/2018

The eloquence of listless years is lost on heady overweening heels that submerge reality in a cavernous of oblique light shrouding the dark mysteries to come. Axiomatic but refractory we swim and tread danger and peril because the unsaid screams for awakening as the roosters outfox the owls and completely change history based on evil skullduggery that awaits the gainsay of titans compromised in security but elevated over the doldrums of quotidian thought. It is my solemn forbearance and consistent steadfast prayer for alacrity and industry to conquer the dudgeons of incurred opprobrium to clinch a beatific convivial festivity for a time-informed claque of leaders that delight in simplicity but dissemble their true disguise in open shark-infested waters. Salvage the impositions of the many and cull the best to anoint their favor on uncertainties improbable but likely as the discerning will master reality rather than be the dross of yesteryear. We swarm with importunate guilds of serfdom to surrender their edifice to the chiselers that operate and extravagate beyond bounds established by parochial priggishness that is a flagging patriotic insistence on drenched graft dank with the mildew of balkanization but not entirely as reproachable as some relics of the ancient law detest with misguided guile and paranoiac sophistry that is a precarious canker of otiose tastes drawling on with misinformed skepticism. The hounding gray in the pallor of alpenglow light ennobles the concatenations of wistful dread but at the same time esoteric flavor that enriches the emblazoned gallantry of the few to become the mainstay of all relevant considerations. Wish upon a coruscating menagerie of miscegenated aboriginal languages that have always abided in the shadows but exist in brevity among the elite coteries that coddle the world in its infancy away from the artifice of exegesis and the importunate placations of swarthy umbrageous shadows that exist apart from the factitious apartheid of race and gender. We must stand united as brethren enduring the tribulations of human vicissitude to abhor the diseased rhetoric of pandered puritanism amalgamated with aleatory financial alarmism calculated to swindle the dilapidation of penury that burns as a smoldering conflagration of concerted ignorance leading to ochlocratic determinism rather than a whispered percolated pedigree that drowns sorrows but simultaneously strands the pariahs of time in insular self-reflection unbecoming of an age that demands an importunate, ubiquitous and outspoken corporate altruism not superintended by a bloviated and tumescent dysnomy of congregated botched bureaucracies that encroach with a daunting donkey commandeered by headless horsemen who are only known by pennames and cognomens that flinch at the demise of their undeserved anonymity. We use valor as an instrument to prevent a scuttled vessel of a seaworthy humanity slinking along a very balmy coast as we await future instructions at the apropos time for a simpatico relegation of commercial collectivism. We expect instead a demassified world to enliven the dialectic of epistemology itself and renew covenants long ago moribund in their ragged and wretched desuetude that they may be vanquished as vestigial habiliments to the tatters of sloppy abnegation leading to a swollen piety that dares not to pretend but simultaneously believes so much in its pilloried hubris that it provides erasure for the secular enlightenment of a messianic time. Squalor and riddled eccentricity drive a brackish but saccharine attempt to homogenize the pastures that we graze upon but look no further than a bequeathed divine providence of smirks rather than the jibes of sneering ostentation. Whisper you fame rather than declaim against the arraignments of a scuttled pettifoggery of miscegenated justice that embroils foreign wineskins for domestic turmoil rather than the demotic enlightenment of the abrogation of inequitable laws that preserve the totemic dissolution of society rather than the prized ameliorative enlightenment of science informed by faith and faith beckoning the clerisy to seek supernal wisdom and furtive swank to reconnoiter the righteous and jettison renegades imploring for a piebald blinkered apostasy on a rudimentary subconscious level but never realizing their effrontery is gravid in a heedless ignorance interpolated by menacing secular hobgoblins that ransack barren treasure and cherish it as a trinket for a chrysocracy that is specious rather than veridical. Barnstorm for justice but appoint the abeyance of foolhardy prescience so that the enigmas of time can beckon their own deliverance through a culmination of waggish flickers rather than the kowtowed toadies of a quidnunc reality divorced from proper temperance outmoded but thriving among those that disavow newfangled foudroyant spectacles. Always and with alacrity indulge the gladiatorial sportsmanship of a zeitgeist beyond contention as the paragon for livid dreams and lurid imaginations to drive the mutiny against plebeian ears and purblind eyes. Live for the eternal present with providence and forswear the vestigial fossils of flippant eras domineered by dragooning fictitious sentiments buttressed by castles built against the encroachment of the imaginary foes of vassal states that submerged the world in a fideism that rejects too many axioms of modernity to vie for preponderance. The government is not irreproachable, but it is a primeval reflection of the propensities of an aggregated society flippant against choice wisdom of the ageless Constitution that is peremptory proof of the divine providence of sempiternal liberty. People that chide against liberty because they fear precarious cankers that endanger from a distance because of their swollen specters need to uphold a commitment to a wistful remembrance of tragedy but a sturdy ruddy optimism to perdure and prosper on this greenest of worlds for both the greenhorn and the expert alike. Never kowtow before the altar of avarice and always pilfer resourceful contemplation in the respite of quiet times that engage our best faculties to awaken rather than slumber. Recruit the collective imagination to superintend chaos and the leviathan becomes tamed because it requires human synergy in both prosperous times and desperate measures to foment the earth with the brontides of due warning simultaneously murky and misleading but always reflective of an irenic pasture of withering sheep and abundant shepherds. Regal promises have always loitered in the penumbras of the elite but now is the time for absolution rather than scattershot contumely. We believe in the federal way and the state farm system and we don’t believe in foreign monoliths becoming the pasquinade of slippery hebetude that ensnares the immobilized futilitarianism of ignorant creeds and divisive claptrap. Barnstorm together for God and liberty as those two principles-however squandered they might be by listless speculation that doesn’t hinge upon the concerted subaudition of the deeply fathomed sources glistening with profundity- will clinch a victory for the beatific future of a guided humanity rather than the guileless intemperance of choleric fools who wage conflagration against only their own plodding ignorance rather than reaching with outstretched hands and tenacious grasps to invent the future according to the helical perfection of the past. May God rule forever on earth! A prosperous earth! An Earth filled with pleasure and an Earth that approximates heaven more closely every day. Amen  



12/31/2018

Riddled by bewildering supernal designs of an ineffable splendor that drapes reality in iridescent cloaks of rigorous and strenuous limber we trounce through the effigies of a profaned pasquinade to gallop through the doldrums of time for the allocated investment in the refined human condition to exacerbate the declension of foes but link the Abrahamic faiths with taciturn reflections and wizened countenances beckoning a newfangled harmonious destiny. Livid are the naysayers who proffer gainsay with insouciance and flippant sorcery to denigrate sacrosanct axioms with persnickety maxims that are only auriferous when viewed through a refracted entropy of disdainful speculative mutiny against propriety in values and stances. I sidle through a refractory zeitgeist despised for my aureate temerities against the chided condemnation of those who flout so-called gobbledygook because they lack stringent acuity and pale to the polish of ennobled grace that anoints favor and felicity on the laurels of an age very intransigent against latitudinarian capriciousness that will one day ransack the world of its flickered graft and its paltry obsessions with quondam gaucheries. A house divided against itself will flounder because of titanic pressures of oblique balkanization that is opaque only to the hounded ignorance of wishful but labile people who wage acerbic gambles against the delegated authors of an aborning covenant for irenic reconciliation in a blinkered piebald world. I like to saunter in private with my insistent lucubrations because I know the majestic gestures of jest are more bountiful in their fecund harvest than any circumlocution of blunt poetasters who calumniate the verve of self-made upstart grandeur that I brandish at every opportune occasion to pilfer my due inheritance from the coffers of a self-fulfilling fatalism divorced from solipsistic monisms and the denigrations of the futilitarian quest to deprive sustenance in the exercise of deft skepticism disempowering the perspicacity of miserly mendicants who treasure their science but pale in their trepidatious momentary twinges of faith that are insincere and unctuous abominations against a steadfast God that wallops our misery with the lurched progress of human amelioration wrought by the succor of alien wizardry beyond even the most quixotic imaginations of people who in their prolixity miss the pithy glib sacraments of a terse and burlesque pragmatism. I simper because I know about carbon emissions statistics with hearty gusto and a convivial banquet of amalgamated personalities and wraiths that emanate from the ether of the 12th dimension of reality: transdimensional interspecies sentience. I wrangle on the outskirts of a bustled city embroiled in a relegated civil war entangling plebeians and plutocrats but not engorging any coffers in a zugzwang destined for pejorative scuffles rather than synergistic revivals of the human fraternity, a consensus about intellectual meliorism that will fossick with due efficiency cognitive resources frittered away in the respite of laziness and the abeyance of prospective diligence to conquer rather than waylay with furtive gambits of appeasement. Everyone need to leapfrog beyond the quotidian plane by indulging the oneiromancies of self-efficacy aggrandized by presidential favors and collective efforts to unite the 16th version of reality with the penultimate version of reality. For the ultimate version of reality is corporeal death upon which we are transplanted unto an ethereal dimension beyond contemplation without the horological diminishment of wizened age.  We trudge in the miserly conditions imposed by pharaohs of pettifoggery that swindles with blustery graft and strident intimidation of the audacity of hopes and dreams to foment the requisite fin de seicle zeitgeist that deserves more of a heyday with the revivalism of nostalgic entertainment against the opprobrium of inferior tastes facile in formulaic conformity but deficient in its nutritive enrichment of beatific festivities that traverse the earth at lightspeed because of the vehement energy of foudroyant amazement is beyond contagious when conveyed through the dexterous vehicles of more centralized rather than skeletonized organization. The bonhomie of a copacetic future demands the interpolation of scrupulous adherence to authoritative dictums but the laissez-faire demagoguery of titans trouncing the ragamuffins of cacestogenous upbringing in a miserly husbandry that stunts the stilted imaginations of formalism rather than bequeathing a seminal insemination of a future hybridized race mechanized but humanized simultaneously to accomplish what would once seem impossible that now looms considerable with the democratization of the furtive at a faucet’s trickling pace to empower the future to heed the past and the pastors to revere the eschatology of final conditions rather than a favoritism for aboriginal barbarisms created by the snare of hobgoblin phantasms that exist only to make us tremulous rather than swanky. May God bless this great green earth with many decades of prosperity to come and heap plaudits on the intellectuals fighting the fight against simpleton groupthink. Have a very festive New Year!
Flexing a 155-160 Verbal Expressive IQ
himangshu Oct 2020
The mistakes cannot be saved now.
The memories cannot be frowned upon.
The relevance cannot be questioned.
The patience cannot be tested
The light's cannot be dimmed now,
    revolution's taking place.
The anger cannot be altered now,
    hatred is taking command.
The old mistakes that take no sin cannot be judged now.
The sinful mistakes cannot be left unpunished now.
The ministry, the directorate promise justice
like the geography books promise rain every year.
The news channels barely cover real news. Merely justice is served to the deserving. Government is influenced by media rather than facts and reality
Liliana Jaworska Sep 2014
Stop for a moment.
Imagine that one day you will embrace silence.
You will look backwards and you will recognize
that this silence always rocked you to dream
about  boy who gave a falling leaf,
about nights longer than day,
about lost years,
about not ending talks at dusk ,
about stormy wind which lifts up the waves of the sea,
about warm summer like a desert wind,
about  fire of dancing bodies,
about horizon of fulfilled fantasy,
about  soul brave as a lion,
about forgiveness of inequitable sins,
about harvest of ripe apples,
about fresh bread in the morning.

Stop for a moment.
Imagine that one day you will pass away.
You will look bakwards and you will recognize
that everything on earth has deeper meaning
boundless despair,
fulfilled promise,
sense of hopelessness,
carefree laughter,
overwhelming piece of art,
passionate kiss,
poetry before bedtime,
long walks in forest,
thick fog in the morning,
birth of a child,
glittering stars in the sky,
wild dance of the senses,
sweet flavor of peach,
God's wisdom,
even your name.

Stop for the moment.
Imagine that one day you will be permeated by thougt
that the beauty in others is not ethereal.
You will look backwards and you will recognize
that you didn't  appreciate significance of invisible treasures
of  heart filled with hope,
of  hand given for goodbay,
of  secret of eyes in love,
of  soul as particle of divinity,
of  faith in another human being,
of   prayer of child,
of  warmth of awaited touch,
of  taste of shed tears,
of  burden of sacrifice,
of  joy from happy ending,
of undying values,
of delight in the sun,
of  love larger than life.

Stop for a moment.
Look backwards as long as you have time.
Imran Islam Nov 2017
Hey young fighter
why are you stubborn?
Look, an inequitable society
has destroyed everything
Who will save the world?

You are the combatant
In the middle of the war
in the morning
and the evening
Why do you surrender?

Hey, young militant
what's up with you?
why are you silent?
You are the hero!

Hey young soldier
why are you asleep
raise your head up
Build up the camp.
ronobir
Fynn Sep 2017
The world is inequitable
The one who saved so many
had to go so early

No one could count
how many tears I have shed
an incredible amount
of bitterness and pain

It was you who saved me
who built me back up
It was just your melody
who made me stand tall

You and your brother
and some of your friends
made life so much better
until your very end

You've gone too early
gone with the wind
but now you are free
and no longer on the brink

you were a match made in heaven
too perfect to be true
after all you have given
you went into the blue

The day of your death
was a brandnew doomsday
the flames are still growing
now its our turn to pray

May peace guide your way
to eternity
I will never forget it was you
who saved me

May your halo shine bright
Rest in peace Tom Searle.. he died at the age of 28 because of cancer. I would not be where I am now without him. And I know that im not the only one.
To all of you who think this is not meant honestly.. f*** you. Every single word here came from my heart. I used titles of his songs on purpose.. this is my tribute to him. I do owe him. His music build me back up when i was down. He made me understand. He made me live again after I nearly drowned. I hope you rock heaven now... Memento mori
Rest in peace. I will never forget
Imran Islam Oct 2017
I'm lucky that I'm an Arab girl.
It's the darkness that, I'm a girl in this Arab community
Yes, it's my family and the local community.

Please, don't get me wrong
It’s the not really right traditions that chained us,
here in my family and community.
They all say we're open-minded,
But they're not, really no.
They all say, girls are not oppressed,
But they are.
They all say that no one infanticides girls anymore.
But it still happens, even if it's not literally.

We’re still being bullied here in the Arab community.
So that's why I'm going to say these bad things-

It's sad enough that I'm single,
I am unmarried, 39 years old!
I have no husband, no kids,
I'm not an Arab girl now, and I’m an Arab woman.

I have never seen the hunter lion in my jungle of sin.
I cannot even play with myself
Because I should keep saving my virginity
If I want to get married ever.
Truly I'm still a ******.

I know it’s a sin, a great sin!
But just I don’t like this backdated community,
these traditional rules and overrules
just belong to family pride.
Does it support our religion?
Even does it like civil society?

Truly, it’s not fair, it’s inequitable to me!
I want reality; I want to get free!
I want to be happy; I want fair!
I want the truth; I respect my religion.
That’s why I want my rights!

Marriage between cousins has been part of the culture
here in my society for centuries,
largely as a means of securing relationships between tribes
and preserving family wealth.
My parents are both first cousins.
Maybe I have to get married to a close relative.
Society expected it and it is still common here.

Nowadays, my family is allowed to get married from other families.
But here in my society has some family status
like these, Level-one to Level-five
Level-five cannot be married from level-one
or others in some families
Level-one can marry from level-one to three.
Level-three can marry from level- three to one.
But the level- four and five can marry from each other only.
It is like that from past family tradition not for wealth ****.

I am from level- three.
Some guys came to my parent but they’re not my family type
and some are not my level
I have some close relatives but they’re not good guys.
My parent doesn't like them.
That’s why I’m still single.

I got back from the supermarket and maybe I will go to the mountain tomorrow
Yeah my country becomes green in this mountain
But other gulf countries they hot very.
No, I can't drive, I will go with my father or my brothers.

I have had a relationship with an Arab guy
we had met each other at my university when I was 23.
We had been talking over the phone and a social media.
And it’s hidden from our families.
But he cheated on me,
He did not come to my parent,
and he didn't discuss about marriage.

Hell, he wanted to see my looks and something like ****.
That’s not good for my family and me. It’s unreligious.
If my parents knew, I would be wrong
maybe they will **** me with him.
Talking to someone is not allowed here
I can talk to only people who I know.

Some Arab girls are getting married British citizen
But depends on the girl’s family, will accept or not
and another thing is religion.
The girls were studying their only
No levels for them

I know a girl who has just completed high school.
She will go to England to study
and she is looking for someone to get marry…
Because she’s losing her virginity in 13.
Her parents know it all.
They don’t want to **** her.
Hell for her that close relative.

How I will be married and I am not a ******!
If I make love before married or do something like ****
Then my husband will tell me that I am not good
The community will talk about me
And my parents will not talk to me.
They will slap me
All bad things will happen to me
I will be neglected.
And I have to go back to my family

After all,
my family will **** me.
Other punishments also, like these
Not going out of the house
No phones
Not talking to people, friends
And relatives
Not even married in life.

I have to stay alone at home
And no one will talk to me if I am alive
Then I should go out of the house forever
Really, a girl lives alone after this bad thing,
Yeah, can do work, but It is impossible here.

I know Arab girls have to war in my first night
and their weapons are their virginity!
That’s why I’m still a ******.
Sigh, I’m about 39.
Just Culture Imagery of An Arab Community
Sorry, i put it.
JAM Dec 2019
“[At the moment, the human world is a corrupt force.] Greed has poisoned [human lives], has barricaded the world with hate, and has goose-stepped us into misery and bloodshed. We have developed speed, but we have shut ourselves in. Machinery that gives abundance has left us in want. Our knowledge has made us cynical. Our cleverness, hard and unkind. We think too much and [understand] too little.

However [some] continue, indefatigably, to reach out. There’s just no way [a few of us] can single-handedly save the world or, perhaps, even make a perceptible difference – but how ashamed [those few] would be to let a day pass without making one more effort.

[Like water, we can be] the highest good. Water gives life to the ten thousand things, and [does not fear its courses]. It flows in places humans reject and so [creates unity]. [It is an element that] can take any form. [Water] can drift without effort one moment, then pound down in a torrent the very next [moment, as a single force]. [And yes, It is true that the efforts of those few] amount to no more than one drop in a limitless ocean. Yet what is any ocean, but a multitude of drops?

[Now just] Imagine a world in which every single person on the planet has free access to the sum of all human [unity]. In dwelling, [we could] be close to the land. In meditation, [we could] go deep in the heart. In dealing with others, [we could] be gentle and kind. In speech, [we could] be true. In ruling, [we could] be just. In business, [we could] be competent. In action, [we would be sure to] watch the timing and the season. We may even have no reason to fight each other, and thus no reason to blame each other.

In [our] hands, my fellow [droplets], will rest the final success or failure of our course. Since [civilization began], each of our generations has been summoned to give testimony to [the greatness of life.] We’ve all wanted to help one another. Human beings are like that. We want to live by each other’s happiness – not by each other’s misery. We don’t want to hate and despise one another. In this world there is room for everyone. And the good earth is rich and can provide for everyone. The way of life can be free and beautiful.

Now the trumpet summons us again—not as a call to bear arms, though arms we need; not as a call to battle, though embattled we are—but a call to bear the burden of a long twilight struggle, year in and year out, “rejoicing in hope, patient in tribulation”—a struggle against the common enemies of man: tyranny, poverty, disease, and war itself.

In the process of [this struggle], we must not be guilty of wrongful deeds. Let us not seek to satisfy our thirst for freedom by drinking from the cup of bitterness and hatred. We must forever conduct [this struggle] on the high plains of dignity and discipline. We must not allow our [honest efforts] to degenerate into [criminal high jinks]. We must rise to the majestic heights of meeting [corrupt] force with [pure] force, [or suffer the failure of our efforts under an inequitable and desperate silence.]”
SOURCES, in order:
Charlie Chaplin, The Great Dictator’s Speech
Isaac Asimov
Tao Te Ching, Chapter 8 (from Giu Fu Feng’s sparkling translation)
Spike Lee, Cowboy Beebop
David Mitchell, Cloud Atlas
Tao Te Ching, Chapter 8 (from Giu Fu Feng’s sparkling translation)
Jimmy Wales, Founder of Wikipedia
JFK, Inaugural Address
Charlie Chaplin, The Great Dictator’s Speech
JFK, Inaugural address
Martin Luther King, Jr’s I Have a Dream Speech
Dánï Apr 2014
I know we put on a show,
Trust me, I know.

I know* it's hard,
I know people like us don't have it easy.
But it's effortless to pick up a shard,
And mutilate ourselves until looking in the mirror makes us queasy.

I know we can't talk even if we wanted to,
I know our emotions aren't always crystal clear.
But if it's one thing we want and so desperately pursue,
Is to be able to utter an "I'm okay" and for it to be completely sincere.

I know we can't trust,
I know it's been broken so many times.
But we've wrongfully learned to adjust,
To someone who isn't worth it, to someone who just hurts and lies.

I know what it's like to need and not get,
I know what it's like to be told "just forget".
But they don't know what we've been through,
They don't know all we've had to endure.

I know ending it seems unquestionable and inevitable,
I know the pain seems irrevocable and inequitable.
But I just want you to know that I'm here,
And it's hard to speak but I'm all ears.

*
I know we put on a show,
Trust me, I know.
please don't hesitate to talk to me, I'm just a click away

-d.***
Count or stop to count
7, 6, 5… then silence.
Started from the one to countless

Fatally wounded, again inequitable ethnic
the trumpet sound of trauma
In a private car, but this was
not a public performance

7 bullets transmit the pride and prejudice
Police have millions of reasons to suspect,
but we criticize the moon—
tonight it’s dark as hell in a drawer.

Count or stop to count
5,6,7… then gun violence.
His truth is lazy
and infinite as broken glass.

You are in our prayers— we pray infinitely.
We would like to have
a brave trumpet show for ourselves—
Deep sorrow, tumultuous but informative.
Although there will be more details from the Wisconsin police, on 23.August, police shot a Black man in the back seven times, it launched a now all-too-familiar avalanche of reaction.according to officials and a bystander’s video of the incident that has been virally shared. Blake survived, but his family’s attorney said he is paralyzed from the waist down.
Lyra Scott Jul 2019
Another lonely cycle and I’ll fall back to you
A delusion of second chances clawing like a relapse

The marionette strings will guide my hands
To the machine that will reanimate this
Phantom reflection of things long dead

My tongue will swirl and ask you, again
If you remember our promise
That inequitable scream you affirmed

I will retire to the same fantasy:
Us, lain down on the hood of a car
The upside down stars
And summer heat melting us together in December
And I will tell myself that in that dream I do not love you

My heart will swell and my lungs will strain
And I will fabricate a false god to worship
Less than obsession with you

The mantras will repeat
“This is normal.”
“I know what I'm doing.”
And
“I've just never had a friend like you.”
But I will know
My body has betrayed me

I will be reminded
I am just a girl

I will wish for it to be unmade
As much as I wish you felt it
But in the end
The heart wants what the heart wants
Even when it wants to **** you

So I'm sorry,
My friend,
For all the things I am yet to hurt you with
But I fear I have no choice
For Missy
samriddhi upreti Sep 2020
No planet resembles to one another
Each has diverse temperament
Earth has life, nevertheless inequitable for the beings
Earth has been diversified in its own way
Affecting to the nature and it's well beings
Some are born with the silver spoon
Some with empty hands
Some are blacks some are greys some are whites some are reds
Some have the nimble senses some need patrons for lifetime
Some have the family some are abandoned after the birth
Some live the lavish life some are in the rains
Some are emblazoned and some do not even exist for anyone
There is an incessant bridge, which has become thorny
This  gap emblematizes the disparity among the livings
Hoping, in the coming era, the panacea for the biased world will be developed
Everybody will live  with contentment.

— The End —