we are always asked
to understand the other person's
viewpoint
no matter how
out-dated
foolish or
obnoxious.
one is asked
to view
their total error
their life-waste
with
kindliness,
especially if they are
aged.
but age is the total of
our doing.
they have aged
badly
because they have
lived
out of focus,
they have refused to
see.
not their fault?
whose fault?
mine?
I am asked to hide
my viewpoint
from them
for fear of their
fear.
age is no crime
but the shame
of a deliberately
wasted
life
among so many
deliberately
wasted
lives
is.

MARY, MARY, QUITE CONTRARY: A Dreadful Tale about a Dead Anglo Mother, A Dreadful, Avenging Syrian Aunt, A Stolen Baby Sister, and a Hateful, Unfaithful, Defaulting Father.

Mary, Mary, quite contrary
How does your garden grow?
With people, people who hardly know
Your vices, your intrigue, your lies, and so,
You’ve ruined lives, and now I will show

How demonizing you are, with just your thinking
About your “slemly” self,  just linking [Nice in Arabic]
That self to your own, and not us--no one else
You belong in no company, your old-time thinking.
Adopting my sister, without any inkling
Of what it takes to challenge the motherless
And seeing we ended up, also, being fatherless.

Travesties galore made this woman happy
You won hearts, but you seemed quite daffy.      
Childhood, telling us we’d never be as good
As your Syrian daughters - such a strange brood!
This kind of “teaching” by a Syrian mom was kinda lewd.

She verily and surely became our ISIS
She thought who could ever, ever be like us
She raved for hours so very against us
To that red-headed family so she could easily best us!
Humiliating us at every stop
We really, really got a lot
From her, the decadent Queen of ISIS
No, she’d never, ever be like us!

Twenty years to a guileless young person
Is a forever herstory an eternity…
A lesson, an identity…
Carried on secretly, destroying our Syrian identity.
She stole that connection, filling it with confusion
She with cruel humor would **** our loving illusion
Stopped it in its growth,
Forever unseating that family oath.
To care - without any rejection.
It was She that was The Great Defection.

Mary, Mary how does your hatred grow
Picked on those who had no Syrian power
But you didn’t see yourself becoming lower
To the ends of the earth, heartless black flower.

In her mind she’d be our Mother
But as this poet, I did not know it
Things would be better if we like sheep
Worshipped Mary, into the deep
Quite similar to the rest of her Keep
Then mayhap we’d enjoy their fully undeserved sleep.

Taught my dear baby sister like her to hate
Would I had the power to shut up her pate
Her mouth was evil to the core
I never, never could stand more.
Her hatred entered me, made me sore.

Screaming at us to keep us out
Stupid Daddy joined her in this falling out
She, successful -as any lout.
By God I thot I must be evil
Their strange behavior was not legal.
Would that she’d accept me, that dangerous eagle.
I lost my sense of self and ‘came very sad
Would that I could be like she so glad.
‘Tis fifty years now, and I can’t stop crying.
No one ever heard this “mother” sighing.

Hell, Mary, full of Face
Recognizing only your Syrian race
Did anyone else matter? Just your primitive face?
Everyone one was hurt, except you and your nace
There’ll be no one, ever, that could take your place.
Laughing to destroy our wanted Arab destiny
Which you did, and did, successfully, with your fantasy.

Mary, Mary, quite contrary
How does your garden grow?
Like plants, you lined us up all in a row
One good, two bad - you did the choosing
And what did you leave?
Only us, who did the losing.
You didn’t water those two plants.
Treated us two as if we were ants.
Watered sissa so she would grow
Your dreaded deeds no one would know
Judgement is left only to God.
But you and Dad should’ve returned to your sod.
Your behavior to the motherless seems very odd.
My sister and I two tossed peas in a pod.

Deserting us suddenly knowing only this hateful group
There’s nothing to which she wouldn’t stoop
Her sick obsession to hurt the powerless
Speaks of a very worst yes, cruel foulness.

We lived at a convent school very protected
Visiting weekends this aspiring ****,
Two sisters know she made a very strong mark
She was not our blood, we couldn’t take part
Of this constant coldness on her part.

And another Aunt with two daughters, good
They were always with us, always stood
The opposite of this wicked would-be aunt
This family, Americanized and very sane
Never did play the ancient Ottoman game
These Aunts were our world - our windowpane.

Two aunts - endowing us with a Syrian heritage,
One, the bad one, with too much leverage
The good one to teach a cheerful Syrian beverage      
With balance, love, and the length of days
Not like the other, the one who dismays.

We represented that bad woman’s target
What it came from. Could it be her precious Margaret?
No, not at all her peaceful daughter
But the other, gladly joined in on the slaughter
Making serious and even much more, fodder.

We had no tools to breach this hate
I guess that it would have to be our fate.
To live our lives just disenchanted.
Our hearts broke, as if forever lancets.
With Syrians there’d be no more dances

Taking my sweet sis turning her against us
She did truly give strong heed to finally fence us.
What ever could we find for our defenses?

Dad, real Dad, inebriated dad,
Fell in with them: became this negative father
Sought their pity--likening me as a foreign daughter
He was in love with them, weakly turning
But in turn, the two of us, spurning
Back to his Syrian fold back, not farther
Unwittingly, unrepentedly, uncaringly, joining the laughter
Discarding his American daughters to a mental slaughter.

At his picnic - family there - he called us foreigners
Foreigners we were, surely, when with them
They couldn’t ever believe in us,
Dad influenced them, peeved at us.
Made us feel like little fools.
No, we never had the tools
To fight this ignorance - Change these mules?

Punishing, punishing us as wedded women
Accused of all that they gossiped about
What did they say? And this truant dad a lout
Speaking of us in downing tones
I’d feel far better had they broken my bones.

Closing his relationships to his
Two lesser liked non-Arab sisters
Would there would be a better mister
He considered us two a mere sinful blister.

We ran away from this horrible drunk
He hated his daughters and he stunk
And then we suffered the worst of any they would dunk
Uncomfortable at their Arab-speaking home
We stopped visiting long before their moan
We were “no good”  said our Syrian family
Would that we knew that we’d be anti-Family.

They had something to hate and did they do it
We had no idea we were just a joke
Their words, their disgust, far more than a poke.
Their anti-American provincial views
Made little sense - such perverted mews
All we loved, we would really lose.
There was never any right to choose.

That Family didn’t speak, avoided us
At sissa's Syrian wedding. It was all mined
That scene returns to me all of them lined  
Winding its way into my unbidden mind,
They were so, so truly unkind
We always would be to them the “Other”
Yes, us, us, us, without a mother!

We lost three mothers, our real one gone
Also our good step-mother quickly on
Add Mary to that three, glad she is gone
Perhaps Dad guilty of the first two deaths
I shan’t continue - you’d lose your breaths.
  
But Hail that Lady, she would change our world
Sending us suddenly into a whirl.
How to change the young with screaming?
She’d not change but destroy our dreaming
Waking horribly from our Syrian dream
We just didn’t fit their shady crème de la crème.

Everyone was fooled by this greedy witch
She and her daughters I’d deem as *****
What was in them, caused their making?
Taking away, taking, taking, taking.
Good cousins now, have seen an awakening
My work of writing revealed Mary’s faking.

Hail Mary full of Face
Only using her charms to erace
The sisters she wished not to embrace
With threads of lies an unrevealing face
Syrians’ acceptance of her goldarn place  
No one ever will she replace  
In every way she used her mace
A clever poison to keep her place
Successfully, she’d snidely hid her dreams
Wearing a mask to hide her themes.

She’d always hated us through and through
We didn’t know it till she did what she’d do
Her masque did work, from dusk to dawn.
Hatred of us was what she would spawn
She would definitely **** our spirits
Would that I could reveal all her lyrics.

Our Syrian sissa’s wedding put us in place
That even there we could have little space.
No other family events could we be included.
Engagements, baptisms, we would be excluded
Their intentions now were completely nuded.   deluded!

You stole our little baby entering the world
Through our Mom’s Death
You stole my Dad’s affection
He also her straw man, worshiping Mary‘s fiction
Her stand could only be that of affliction.

Hail Mary full of Face
Face that faced nothing exçept winning the Ace
Did no one ever tell you - you were a case?
Using your screams to stuff our mind
And even more shrieking to clog our mind
No other Syrian family could be so unkind.

Always filling us with her delicious food
Only to turn against us, trussing our good mood.
I’d like to regurgitate all that poisonous food
Anything about her became totally lewd.
She bragged of her daughters - were they really that good?
When we were children, told us we’d never be like them
We never wanted to be like those hurting us.
Took our Dad’s affection, he also deserting us
We never but finally saw that they were into hurting us.

She has attacked us screaming, screaming on end
Never an explanation, never to end
She took money, stole sister too, not a lend.
With this cruel treatment, we were not able to fend.
I’ve never heard such venom in any human voice
It seared through both my ears, such an odious noise
Those first twenty years were so very splendid
But later with her actions - all was ended
With her allotted time this is how she would spend it.

Sister, affections stolen, obeying by fear
Couldn’t counter - with a mere
Stand up to this fraud of a Mother Dear.

Our baby sis had became her clay
She would remake her through many a day.
She owes us much, this lying thief
No family tree would know, not even a leaf
She stole and changed our beautiful blood
Returned nothing except a bad bad flood
Of making our names into family mud.

She then gave out inimical messages
The taunting that came from her mealy mouth
From Damascus, that lousy mouse.
Couldn’t discuss, but only scream
What ever, ever, did she mean?
This Family into which father bought.
Their apathetic “reasoning” I was never taught.

Her daughters conscripted to the Mary core
Following her words, her iron ore
Inflated us with much heavy criticism
To fill our sissa with a lack of witticism

Lying, lying she always, always hated us
For twenty years, she consistently slated us
For slaughter, just like little lambs
Motherless, she took our little lamb
She won, didn’t she, in her sham?
Mary & dad really fated us with their sick flim flam!

She’d tackle anyone, anything in her path
And she did, with her oh so dreadful wrath.
What powered this extremely devilish mind?
She had never, ever, been really kind.

Our sodden father turned to her
She was Goddess, he deemed Something
While we were nothing, nothing, NOTHING!
It didn’t happen till twenty years after
From kindliness to hypocrisy
One would not believe.
Our real selves never to retrieve.

A sweet child, sissa, full of love
Knew they were cold and she let us know
After those years, sadly though
Turned into another hateful *****
Forced to be like them, else be ditched.

Dad, dad, the precious Syrian lad
Embraced the family gatherings that they had
Youngest of the Ikmuks - he was mad
Allowed them the desecration of our pad
They could say anything--made it their fad.

He wouldn’t speak to them of their travesty
Worshipped them, and ever drastically
Wanted to be Them, lest he be
On the Outs from the Family Tree
Ousted, married out of the Tribe
Hardly now, when this happened, few are alive.
He refused to tell them we both should be here.
He would never, ever, play it fair.
“Dad, if you go, I’ll never be the same.”
He would never, never take the blame.
Of his paltry stabs at being a human
Go stuff him in a jar with more rotten cumin.

Never defended us, never, never
Always took their part like a mismatched lever.
Usually a Dad with a daughter would stay beside her
But then, he gave Mary a far wider rider.

Gatherings went on, by the family Mare.
All our lives had been spent with them before
But Iron Lady with Iron Ore
Came through later and before.
She would win, so well connected to her vile kin
Change, girl, change, you’re just an Anglo fem.
Don’t, please, don’t pay much attention to them.
Sudden hate - my thoughts now were dashed.
I changed - they took all I had and then they smashed.

They brought us into their sickly Ottoman lives
But all of them acted as if we had the hives
They, centuries‘ habit, it was the mid-1950’s why so bold?
They were too much, too much very, to behold
We were stricken, treated as in days of old
We would never be part of their unhealthy mold  [Mould?]

Regular at Church. What kind of God could she worship?
You know who should have been told? The Syrian Bishop!
The She-Devil not even relishing the Church script
Eternally, she would always, rip, rip, and then grip!
Instead looked to those after Church who would serve her!
She did just this with a total fervor.
No Communion, no worship, but her only feats
To seek and add to gossip in the streets
Afterward. When-Where everyone meets.

Se enjoyed the Devil of Power over those she knew
Verily, she should have been thrown in the loo.
Few new. Only the rejected two.

Mary, Mary full of Mace
You never did achieve much grace
Wish you could have finally
Fallen on your ignorant Face
There’s really not going to be any space
To explain your bad translation of a very good race.
The Syrian families I always know very well
Would never have made this kind of hell.

The Syrian race is good, except for this “mother”
I speak from my place as the dreaded ”Other”
You are and were a terrible, mother
You’re a crude example of this Middle Eastern  race.
Very few of them did see through your face.

In that family I barely gleaned this toxicity
But, never, ever, did I witness much felicity.
They llaughed and laughed about any Other
Played well their acts as if they cared
They knew Syrian-like we would not fare
We, Dad, all sisters three - fell for her snare.

What think you, God, of these poor children
How il-ly this Family thoroughly tilled them
Two non-Arab daughters’ given bad repute
Their shocking beliefs really made us mute
All that came from her demented mind
All that encountered Mary’s “kind”
She destroyed our conception of self
This hypocrisy would make one melt.

She infiltrated us, her daughters, and my Sissa
That we were not as good as she - but she lost her mister
Had Uncle [our blood] lived, this would never have occurred.
But Auntie [not our blood] surely had demurred.
Her hooked-nose criticizing, and simple daughters,
Psychologically--against us-- they joined in on these slaughters.
Kindness for two decades to rent, later they spent
Hell on the motherless, but hiding that intent
Taught her daughters: “Don’t be involved with them”
We really do know some of what she did, or said,
This is the kind of meal that she constantly fed
Her masque nearly hiding her evil bent.
Too bad she wasn’t forced back into her Syrian tent.

Mary, Mary quite contrary, How does your world work?
You won, you won, you ignorant, piece of work
You demanded respect from all of us, treacherous,
She got it, didn’t know it, then she brought down the two of us

Sneaky, low-life, hypocrite witch
We always thought we had a niche
But lost kids like us did never snitch
We wouldn’t, didn’t open up about that *****.

We had a twenty-year comfort zone with her
Deserted at last by her flying fur
Stolen, deserted at last by Dad--that foul mister
Stolen, deserted, lastly by our pretty baby sister.

This left us changed by this She-Devil
Would that there’d be a way to counter her evil
We couldn’t - she was always far too strong
An ISIS for us - this would last too long.

After these years, I could not grow
Was I a real woman? -  I didn’t know!
Being a mother couldn’t show
That this Family created a list of woe.

When Sissa had babies & a mom to help
We did this alone - all this we felt.
Her faulted hatred never did melt.
I didn’t know how to take a stance
Nor could I find out how to advance.
We had to oppose Aunt Mary’s dance.

That Sissa could not bo

Tiare Tahiti

MAMUA, when our laughter ends,
And hearts and bodies, brown as white,
Are dust about the doors of friends,
Or scent ablowing down the night,
Then, oh! then, the wise agree,
Comes our immortality.
Mamua, there waits a land
Hard for us to understand.
Out of time, beyond the sun,
All are one in Paradise,
You and Pupure are one,
And Tau, and the ungainly wise.
There the Eternals are, and there
The Good, the Lovely, and the True,
And Types, whose earthly copies were
The foolish broken things we knew;
There is the Face, whose ghosts we are;
The real, the never-setting Star;
And the Flower, of which we love
Faint and fading shadows here;
Never a tear, but only Grief;
Dance, but not the limbs that move;
Songs in Song shall disappear;
Instead of lovers, Love shall be;
For hearts, Immutability;
And there, on the Ideal Reef,
Thunders the Everlasting Sea!
And my laughter, and my pain,
Shall home to the Eternal Brain.
And all lovely things, they say,
Meet in Loveliness again;
Miri's laugh, Teipo's feet,
And the hands of Matua,
Stars and sunlight there shall meet,
Coral's hues and rainbows there,
And Teura's braided hair;
And with the starred 'tiare's' white,
And white birds in the dark ravine,
And 'flamboyants' ablaze at night,
And jewels, and evening's after-green,
And dawns of pearl and gold and red,
Mamua, your lovelier head!
And there'll no more be one who dreams
Under the ferns, of crumbling stuff,
Eyes of illusion, mouth that seems,
All time-entangled human love.
And you'll no longer swing and sway
Divinely down the scented shade,
Where feet to Ambulation fade,
And moons are lost in endless Day.
How shall we wind these wreaths of ours,
Where there are neither heads nor flowers?
Oh, Heaven's Heaven! -- - but we'll be missing
The palms, and sunlight, and the south;
And there's an end, I think, of kissing,
When our mouths are one with Mouth. . . .
'Tau here', Mamua,
Crown the hair, and come away!
Hear the calling of the moon,
And the whispering scents that stray
About the idle warm lagoon.
Hasten, hand in human hand,
Down the dark, the flowered way,
Along the whiteness of the sand,
And in the water's soft caress,
Wash the mind of foolishness,
Mamua, until the day.
Spend the glittering moonlight there
Pursuing down the soundless deep
Limbs that gleam and shadowy hair,
Or floating lazy, half-asleep.
Dive and double and follow after,
Snare in flowers, and kiss, and call,
With lips that fade, and human laughter
And faces individual,
Well this side of Paradise! . . .
There's little comfort in the wise.

Rupert Brooke, Papeete, February 1914


. The Great Lover

I HAVE been so great a lover: filled my days
So proudly with the splendour of Love's praise,
The pain, the calm, and the astonishment,
Desire illimitable, and still content,
And all dear names men use, to cheat despair,
For the perplexed and viewless streams that bear
Our hearts at random down the dark of life.
Now, ere the unthinking silence on that strife
Steals down, I would cheat drowsy Death so far,
My night shall be remembered for a star
That outshone all the suns of all men's days.
Shall I not crown them with immortal praise
Whom I have loved, who have given me, dared with me
High secrets, and in darkness knelt to see
The inenarrable godhead of delight?
Love is a flame; -- - we have beaconed the world's night.
A city: -- - and we have built it, these and I.
An emperor: -- - we have taught the world to die.
So, for their sakes I loved, ere I go hence,
And the high cause of Love's magnificence,
And to keep loyalties young, I'll write those names
Golden for ever, eagles, crying flames,
And set them as a banner, that men may know,
To dare the generations, burn, and blow
Out on the wind of Time, shining and streaming. . . .
These I have loved:
                            White plates and cups, clean-gleaming,
Ringed with blue lines; and feathery, færy dust;
Wet roofs, beneath the lamp-light; the strong crust
Of friendly bread; and many-tasting food;
Rainbows; and the blue bitter smoke of wood;
And radiant raindrops couching in cool flowers;
And flowers themselves, that sway through sunny hours,
Dreaming of moths that drink them under the moon;
Then, the cool kindliness of sheets, that soon
Smooth away trouble; and the rough male kiss
Of blankets; grainy wood; live hair that is
Shining and free; blue-massing clouds; the keen
Unpassioned beauty of a great machine;
The benison of hot water; furs to touch;
The good smell of old clothes; and other such -- -
The comfortable smell of friendly fingers,
Hair's fragrance, and the musty reek that lingers
About dead leaves and last year's ferns. . . .
                            Dear names,
And thousand other throng to me! Royal flames;
Sweet water's dimpling laugh from tap or spring;
Holes in the ground; and voices that do sing;
Voices in laughter, too; and body's pain,
Soon turned to peace; and the deep-panting train;
Firm sands; the little dulling edge of foam
That browns and dwindles as the wave goes home;
And washen stones, gay for an hour; the cold
Graveness of iron; moist black earthen mould;
Sleep; and high places; footprints in the dew;
And oaks; and brown horse-chestnuts, glossy-new;
And new-peeled sticks; and shining pools on grass; -- -
All these have been my loves. And these shall pass,
Whatever passes not, in the great hour,
Nor all my passion, all my prayers, have power
To hold them with me through the gate of Death.
They'll play deserter, turn with the traitor breath,
Break the high bond we made, and sell Love's trust
And sacramented covenant to the dust.
---- Oh, never a doubt but, somewhere, I shall wake,
And give what's left of love again, and make
New friends, now strangers. . . .
                            But the best I've known,
Stays here, and changes, breaks, grows old, is blown
About the winds of the world, and fades from brains
Of living men, and dies.
                            Nothing remains.
O dear my loves, O faithless, once again
This one last gift I give: that after men
Shall know, and later lovers, far-removed,
Praise you, "All these were lovely"; say, "He loved."

Rupert Brooke, Mataiea, 1914


. Heaven

FISH (fly-replete, in depth of June,
Dawdling away their wat'ry noon)
Ponder deep wisdom, dark or clear,
Each secret fishy hope or fear.
Fish say, they have their Stream and Pond;
But is there anything Beyond?
This life cannot be All, they swear,
For how unpleasant, if it were!
One may not doubt that, somehow, Good
Shall come of Water and of Mud;
And, sure, the reverent eye must see
A Purpose in Liquidity.
We darkly know, by Faith we cry,
The future is not Wholly Dry.
Mud unto mud! -- - Death eddies near -- -
Not here the appointed End, not here!
But somewhere, beyond Space and Time.
Is wetter water, slimier slime!
And there (they trust) there swimmeth One
Who swam ere rivers were begun,
Immense, of fishy form and mind,
Squamous, omnipotent, and kind;
And under that Almighty Fin,
The littlest fish may enter in.
Oh! never fly conceals a hook,
Fish say, in the Eternal Brook,
But more than mundane weeds are there,
And mud, celestially fair;
Fat caterpillars drift around,
And Paradisal grubs are found;
Unfading moths, immortal flies,
And the worm that never dies.
And in that Heaven of all their wish,
There shall be no more land, say fish.


. There's Wisdom in Women

"OH LOVE is fair, and love is rare;" my dear one she said,
"But love goes lightly over." I bowed her foolish head,
And kissed her hair and laughed at her. Such a child was she;
So new to love, so true to love, and she spoke so bitterly.
But there's wisdom in women, of more than they have known,
And thoughts go blowing through them, are wiser than their own,
Or how should my dear one, being ignorant and young,
Have cried on love so bitterly, with so true a tongue?


. A Memory (From a sonnet-sequence)

SOMEWHILE before the dawn I rose, and stept
Softly along the dim way to your room,
And found you sleeping in the quiet gloom,
And holiness about you as you slept.
I knelt there; till your waking fingers crept
About my head, and held it. I had rest
Unhoped this side of Heaven, beneath your breast.
I knelt a long time, still; nor even wept.
It was great wrong you did me; and for gain
Of that poor moment's kindliness, and ease,
And sleepy mother-comfort!
                            Child, you know
How easily love leaps out to dreams like these,
Who has seen them true. And love that's wakened so
Takes all too long to lay asleep again.

Rupert Brooke, Waikiki, October 1913


. One Day

TODAY I have been happy. All the day
I held the memory of you, and wove
Its laughter with the dancing light o' the spray,
And sowed the sky with tiny clouds of love,
And sent you following the white waves of sea,
And crowned your head with fancies, nothing worth,
Stray buds from that old dust of misery,
Being glad with a new foolish quiet mirth.
So lightly I played with those dark memories,
Just as a child, beneath the summer skies,
Plays hour by hour with a strange shining stone,
For which (he knows not) towns were fire of old,
And love has been betrayed, and ****** done,
And great kings turned to a little bitter mould.

Rupert Brooke, The Pacific, October 1913


. Waikiki

WARM perfumes like a breath from vine and tree
      Drift down the darkness. Plangent, hidden from eyes
      Somewhere an 'eukaleli' thrills and cries
And stabs with pain the night's brown savagery.
And dark scents whisper; and dim waves creep to me,
      Gleam like a woman's hair, stretch out, and rise;
      And new stars burn into the ancient skies,
Over the murmurous soft Hawaian sea.
And I recall, lose, grasp, forget again,
      And still remember, a tale I have heard, or known,
An empty tale, of idleness and pain,
      Of two that loved -- - or did not love -- - and one
Whose perplexed heart did evil, foolishly,
A long while since, and by some other sea.

Rupert Brooke, Waikiki, 1913



OTHER POEMS

The Busy Heart

NOW that we've done our best and worst, and parted,
      I would fill my mind with thoughts that will not rend.
(O heart, I do not dare go empty-hearted)
      I'll think of Love in books, Love without end;
Women with child, content; and old men sleeping;
      And wet strong ploughlands, scarred for certain grain;
And babes that weep, and so forget their weeping;
      And the young heavens, forgetful after rain;
And evening hush, broken by homing wings;
      And Song's nobility, and Wisdom holy,
That live, we dead. I would think of a thousand things,
      Lovely and durable, and taste them slowly,
One after one, like tasting a sweet food.
I have need to busy my heart with quietude.


. Love

LOVE is a breach in the walls, a broken gate,
      Where that comes in that shall not go again;
Love sells the proud heart's citadel to Fate.
      They have known shame, who love unloved. Even then,
When two mouths, thirsty each for each, find slaking,
      And agony's forgot, and hushed the crying
Of credulous hearts, in heaven -- - such are but taking
      Their own poor dreams within their arms, and lying
Each in his lonely night, each with a ghost.
      Some share that night. But they know love grows colder,
Grows false and dull, that was sweet lies at most.
      Astonishment is no more in hand or shoulder,
But darkens, and dies out from kiss to kiss.
All this is love; and all love is but this.


. Unfortunate

HEART, you are restless as a paper scrap
      That's tossed down dusty pavements by the wind;
      Saying, "She is most wise, patient and kind.
Between the small hands folded in her lap
Surely a shamed head may bow down at length,
      And find forgiveness where the shadows stir
About her lips, and wisdom in her strength,
      Peace in her peace. Come to her, come to her!" . . .
She will not care. She'll smile to see me come,
      So that I think all Heaven in flower to fold me.
      She'll give me all I ask, kiss me and hold me,
           And open wide upon that holy air
The gates of peace, and take my tiredness home,
           Kinder than God. But, heart, she will not care.


. The Chilterns

YOUR hands, my dear, adorable,
      Your lips of tenderness
-- Oh, I've loved you faithfully and well,
      Three years, or a bit less.
      It wasn't a success.
Thank God, that's done! and I'll take the road,
      Quit of my youth and you,
The Roman road to Wendover
      By Tring and Lilley Hoo,
      As a free man may do.
For youth goes over, the joys that fly,
      The tears that follow fast;
And the dirtiest things we do must lie
      Forgotten at the last;
      Even Love goes past.
What's left behind I shall not find,
      The splendour and the pain;
The splash of sun, the shouting wind,
      And the brave sting of rain,
      I may not meet again.
But the years, that take the best away,
      Give something in the end;
And a better friend than love have they,
      For none to mar or mend,
      That have themselves to friend.
I shall desire and I shall find
      The best of my desires;
The autumn road, the mellow wind
      That soothes the darkening shires.
      And laughter, and inn-fires.
White mist about the black hedgerows,
      The slumbering Midland plain,
The silence where the clover grows,
      And the dead leaves in the lane,
      Certainly, these remain.
And I shall find some girl perhaps,
      And a better one than you,
With eyes as wise, but kindlier,
      And lips as soft, but true.
      And I daresay she will do.


. Home

I CAME back late and tired last night
      Into my little room,
To the long chair and the firelight
      And comfortable gloom.
But as I entered softly in
      I saw a woman there,
The line of neck and cheek and chin,
      The darkness of her hair,
The form of one I did not know
      Sitting in my chair.
I stood a moment fierce and still,
      Watching her neck and hair.
I made a step to her; and saw
      That there was no one there.
It was some trick of the firelight
      That made me see her there.
It was a chance of shade and light
      And the cushion in the chair.
Oh, all you happy over the earth,
      That night, how could I sleep?
I lay and watched the lonely gloom;
      And watched the moonlight creep
From wall to basin, round the room,
      All night I could not sleep.



. Beauty and Beauty

WHEN Beauty and Beauty meet
      All naked, fair to fair,
The earth is crying-sweet,
      And scattering-bright the air,
Eddying, dizzying, closing round,
      With soft and drunken laughter;
Veiling all that may befall
      After -- - after -- -
Where Beauty and Beauty met,
      Earth's still a-tremble there,
And winds are scented yet,
      And memory-soft the air,
Bosoming, folding glints of light,
      And shreds of shadowy laughter;
Not the tears that fill the years
      After -- - after -- -


. The Way That Lovers Use

THE way that lovers use is this;
      They bow, catch hands, with never a word,
And their lips meet, and they do kiss,
      -- - So I have heard.
They queerly find some healing so,
      And strange attainment in the touch;
There is a secret lovers know,
      -- - I have read as much.
And theirs no longer joy nor smart,
      Changing or ending, night or day;
But mouth to mouth, and heart on heart,
      -- - So lovers say.


1908 - 1911

Sonnet: "Oh! Death will find me, long before I tire"

OH! DEATH will find me, long before I tire
Of watching you; and swing me suddenly
Into the shade and loneliness and mire
Of the last land! There, waiting patiently,
One day, I think, I'll feel a cool wind blowing,
See a slow light across the Stygian tide,
And hear the Dead about me stir, unknowing,
And tremble. And I shall know that you have died,
And watch you, a broad-browed and smiling dream,
Pass, light as ever, through the lightless host,
Quietly ponder, start, and sway, and gleam -- -
Most individual and bewildering ghost! -- -
And turn, and toss your brown delightful head
Amusedly, among the ancient Dead.


. Sonnet: "I said I splendidly loved you; it's not true"

I SAID I splendidly loved you; it's not true.
Such long swift tides stir not a land-locked sea.
On gods or fools the high risk falls -- - on you -- -
The clean clear bitter-sweet that's not for me.
Love soars from earth to ecstasies unwist.
Love is flung Lucifer-like from Heaven to Hell.
But -- - there are wanderers in the middle mist,
Who cry for sh

—It seems a day
(I speak of one from many singled out)
One of those heavenly days that cannot die;
When, in the eagerness of boyish hope,
I left our cottage-threshold, sallying forth
With a huge wallet o’er my shoulders slung,
A nutting-crook in hand; and turned my steps
Tow’rd some far-distant wood, a Figure quaint,
Tricked out in proud disguise of cast-off weeds
Which for that service had been husbanded,
By exhortation of my frugal Dame—
Motley accoutrement, of power to smile
At thorns, and brakes, and brambles,—and, in truth,
More ragged than need was! O’er pathless rocks,
Through beds of matted fern, and tangled thickets,
Forcing my way, I came to one dear nook
Unvisited, where not a broken bough
Drooped with its withered leaves, ungracious sign
Of devastation; but the hazels rose
Tall and *****, with tempting clusters hung,
A ****** scene!—A little while I stood,
Breathing with such suppression of the heart
As joy delights in; and, with wise restraint
Voluptuous, fearless of a rival, eyed
The banquet;—or beneath the trees I sate
Among the flowers, and with the flowers I played;
A temper known to those, who, after long
And weary expectation, have been blest
With sudden happiness beyond all hope.
Perhaps it was a bower beneath whose leaves
The violets of five seasons re-appear
And fade, unseen by any human eye;
Where fairy water-breaks do murmur on
For ever; and I saw the sparkling foam,
And—with my cheek on one of those green stones
That, fleeced with moss, under the shady trees,
Lay round me, scattered like a flock of sheep—
I heard the murmur, and the murmuring sound,
In that sweet mood when pleasure loves to pay
Tribute to ease; and, of its joy secure,
The heart luxuriates with indifferent things,
Wasting its kindliness on stocks and stones,
And on the vacant air. Then up I rose,
And dragged to earth both branch and bough, with crash
And merciless ravage: and the shady nook
Of hazels, and the green and mossy bower,
Deformed and sullied, patiently gave up
Their quiet being: and, unless I now
Confound my present feelings with the past;
Ere from the mutilated bower I turned
Exulting, rich beyond the wealth of kings,
I felt a sense of pain when I beheld
The silent trees, and saw the intruding sky.—
Then, dearest Maiden, move along these shades
In gentleness of heart; with gentle hand
Touch—for there is a spirit in the woods.

hypocrite
play
noun hyp·o·crite \ˈhi-pə-ˌkrit\
Popularity: Top 1% of lookups
Simple Definition of hypocrite
• : a person who claims or pretends to have certain beliefs about what is right but who behaves in a way that disagrees with those beliefs
<http://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/hypocrite>
Full Definition of hypocrite
1. 1 :  a person who puts on a false appearance of virtue or religion
2. 2 :  a person who acts in contradiction to his or her stated beliefs or feelings
hypocrite adjective

H2611
חָנֵף
chânêph
khaw-nafe'
From H2610; soiled (that is, with sin), impious: - hypocrite (-ical).

H120
אָדָם
'âdâm
aw-dawm'
From H119; ruddy, that is, a human being (an individual or the species, mankind, etc.): - X another, + hypocrite, + common sort, X low, man (mean, of low degree), person.

G5273
ὑποκριτής
hupokritēs
hoop-ok-ree-tace'
From G5271; an actor under an assumed character (stage player), that is, (figuratively) a dissembler (“hypocrite”): - hypocrite.

Full Definition of mortal
1. 1 :  causing or having caused death :  fatal <a mortal injury>
2. 2 a :  subject to death <mortal man> b :  possible, conceivable <have done every mortal thing> c :  deadly 3 <waited three mortal hours>
3. 3 :  marked by unrelenting hostility <a mortal enemy>
4. 4 :  marked by great intensity or severity <mortal fear>
5. 5 :  human <mortal limits>
6. 6 :  of, relating to, or connected with death <mortal agony>
natural
play
adjective nat·u·ral \ˈna-chə-rəl, ˈnach-rəl\
Popularity: Top 20% of words
Simple Definition of natural
• : existing in nature and not made or caused by people : coming from nature
• : not having any extra substances or chemicals added : not containing anything artificial
• : usual or expected
Full Definition of natural
1. 1 :  based on an inherent sense of right and wrong <natural justice>
2. 2 a :  being in accordance with or determined by nature b :  having or constituting a classification based on features existing in nature
3. 3 a (1) :  begotten as distinguished from adopted; also :  legitimate (2) :  being a relation by actual consanguinity as distinguished from adoption <natural parents> b :  illegitimate <a natural child>
4. 4 :  having an essential relation with someone or something :  following from the nature of the one in question <his guilt is a natural deduction from the evidence>
5. 5 :  implanted or being as if implanted by nature :  seemingly inborn <a natural talent for art>
6. 7 :  having a specified character by nature <a natural athlete>
7. 8 a :  occurring in conformity with the ordinary course of nature :  not marvelous or supernatural <natural causes> b :  formulated by human reason alone rather than revelation <natural religion> <natural rights> c :  having a normal or usual character <events followed their natural course>
8. 9 :  possessing or exhibiting the higher qualities (as kindliness and affection) of human nature <a noble … brother … ever most kind and natural — Shakespeare>
9. 11 a :  being in a state of nature without spiritual enlightenment :  unregenerate <natural man> b :  living in or as if in a state of nature untouched by the influences of civilization and society
10. 12 a :  having a physical or real existence as contrasted with one that is spiritual, intellectual, or fictitious <a corporation is a legal but not a natural person> b :  of, relating to, or operating in the physical as opposed to the spiritual world <natural laws describe phenomena of the physical universe>
11. 13 a :  closely resembling an original :  true to nature b :  marked by easy simplicity and freedom from artificiality, affectation, or constraint c :  having a form or appearance found in nature







so let it rip let it roar let it out hear my soar
My sigh of uncontent, in comes unrelenting
Always seeking more, more, more of me , more push me down,
More why didn’t you, more why haven't you, more why couldn’t you,
I a hypocrite, I know, I know it,
I am the addict who fights, to make it through the night.
I say just one more drink, until the bottles gone.
I say just one more hit, until, we crumple an empty bag.
I say just one more high, as I stick it in my foot, so that no one will see.
I say just one more donut, as we eat the very last one.
I say just one more 5, until, I now I lost my home.
I am a hypocrite, I am also human.
I am a hypocrite, I mess up, makes mistakes I forget.
I am a hypocrite, I only drink on weekends, but you should not smoke ****.
I judge you for sinning different, know why?
I am a hypocrite, I am also human.

I am the single mom, who said I'll never do that,
But when you see your baby cry, it should be why didn’t I.
We don’t know where we will go, we don’t know what lies ahead,
We don’t know what trials await, or what s around the bend.
We don’t know what our futures holds, who will end up holding us,
We don’t love, really, we are human, we know a bit.

We say don’t ****, but an unborn child is just, tissue,
We say don’t do drugs, but please do take this pill.
We say don’t steal, until we are the one who is hungry,
We say don’t ******, until, your family is threatened.
We say don’t covet, this or that, until its you, who has no shoe.
We say don’t lie, until, its you who child's life is in the balance,
We say don’t commit adultery, until, its your, husband you found cheating,
We say don't put anything before our GOD, until, its time to go fishing, (or watch the game.)
We say don’t give in, until, it s your pain, that’s killing you.
We say don’t give up, but please don’t ask me.
We say don’t go hungry, unless you smell too bad,

We say don’t let them , in until, that just so happens,
We say don't take it anymore, it doesn't help.
We say don’t think that way, unless that’s all you have ever heard,
We say don’t let your children, play that game, until that one day.
We say don’t feed your kids junk, but that’s all we can afford,
We say don’t work too hard, life will go by to quickly.
We say, I am not sick, as you sneeze and cough,
We say, I didn’t mean, to as we do it again,
We say, I didn’t mean it that way, but inside we really did,
We say, my undying love, as we give it to someone else,
We say, I'll never hurt you.
I am a hypocrite. I am also human.

We say, I'll always be there for you, yet never answer the phone.
We say I'll always love my child no matter what, until, they say I'm gay,
We say I'll always be truthful, until, the truth just hurts to think,
We say I'll always be listen, when all we did was tell it to others,
We say, I'll help you with anything, and then you ask.
We say, I'll always listen, until we go to talk,
We say I'll help you anytime, except, Tuesday, at 2 o'clock.
We say, I didn’t mean to hurt, you, but we did it anyway,
We say, I'll never leave you, as we walk away,
I am a hypocrite. I am also human.

We say I never drink, except, on weekends, occasionally on Wednesday, but you should not smoke ****.
Why I wonder is **** so terrible, in the minds of those who don’t smoke, but can drink on a regular basis.
Is alcohol better for you than ****. Just putting out an amazing truthful statement.
Alcohol is man made ..and who made ****?

We say I'll never let my kids get involved in drugs, except, the school says I have too because he has too much energy.
We say I'll never make my kid, angry, but as A PARENT, we should that is our job.
We say I'll never be that mom, who lets their kids, smoke, cigarettes, as we puff away.
We say I'll never judge them, unless of course they did ____.
I am a hypocrite. I am also human.

I say I'll never trust again, as we pick a stranger up.
I say I'll never love again, like that, until we go all in, yet again.
I say I'll never forget, and what was it that happened again?
I say I'll never be mad about this, until, they spill it one more time.
I say I'll never hit again, but they made me so so so mad.
I say that I am a Christian, but can hurt my children behind closed doors.
I say that I am a Christian, but I will, cut down every other religion.
I say that I am a Christian, yet I swear like a sailor, or worse.
I say that I am a Christian, as I come to church hungover.
(side note, guess what JESUS LOVES, even after we mess up…..continually)
I say that I am a Christian, as I look down my nose, at those with tattoos.
I say that I am a Christian, but I won't look my neighbor in the eye.
I say that I am a Christian, but please don’t ask me, for help.
I say that I am a Christian, as I lock, my door, to hide, from others.
I say that I am a Christian, as in my mind, I am not really caring about what you are going through.
I say that I am a Christian, as I forget to read my BIBLE everyday.
I say that I am a Christian, as I forget to pray, for anyone.
I say that I am a Christian, although I never go to church.
I say that I am a Christian, but I can never spare a dollar, for the offering.
I say that I am a Christian, I judge every new person who comes to my church.
I say that I am a Christian, as I play with the devils toys.
I say that I am a Christian, as I pretend to be what others see.
I say that I am a Christian, as I talk ***** to a friend.
I say that I am a Christian, as I sell pills, when no one sees.
I say that I am a Christian, as I light up my pipe.
I say that I am a Christian, as I tell my kids to go away.
I say that I am a Christian, as I tell you, I love you, to your face.
I say that I am a Christian, as I gossip about what I know you did.
I say that I am a Christian, as I show up to church as late as I want.
I say that I am a Christian, as I never will, associate with those people.
I say I am a hypocrite. I know that I am human. I know a loving GOD.
I SAY I am a hypocrite. I know that I make mistakes. I know a forgiving GOD.
I say I am a hypocrite. I know I did it again. I know a merciful GOD.
I SAY I am a hypocrite. I know I lied to them. I know a faithful GOD.

I say I am a hypocrite. How can I be? How can I be, ? How can I be?
How can I be anything but human?
I know I try. I know I've tried. I know this, I know you've cried.
How can I not be a hypocrite. I quit again. It was so hard.

We say I'll never let my kids do that, except we do.
We say I'll never do that, then we did,
We say I'll never say that to my child, until, one day we did,
We say I'll never hit a woman, until, that day, she said something, I didn’t like so I did.
We say I'll never go all night without. And yet we did.
We say I'll never have a man who loves me, and then we find one, and we don’t know how.
We say I'll never be mean or hurtful, and yet that’s all we do,
We say I'll never tell, and yet from your mouth it comes,
We say I'll never become an addict, until I first shot up,
We say I'll never smoke cigarettes, until that first hit,
We say I'll never drink, my mom, did , no way, until your at college far away.
We say I'll never take from another person, until, its their husband you take from them,
We say I'll never use, until that one, at that one party, just that one time,

We say we need to slow down, as we rush on by,
We say we need to take our time, as we look for the short cut,
We say we need to look closer, until, that’s all we see is screen,
We say we need to dig deeper, yet there's nothing left to dig with,
We say we need a helper, until, its someone who helps us, we turn away,
We say we need a lover, until, the loving becomes too much,
We say we need more time with our family, and it’s the thing we most avoid.
We say we need more family's , but there's no time, we work too hard, have nothing left to dig with, we are busy with . Working to pay the bills to support our families (at minimum wage) when the price on everything has GONE UP. Who? What? When ? How? Will we ever, if we never.
Anyone know the answer…. I didn’t think so , but I know the One who does.
I am a hypocrite. I am also human.

amidst the mountains
he did roam
to find much needed solace
at this healing home
the familiarity of the terrain
bought peace to his troubled mind
at this place the heavy clouds
he had shouldered
for a long time
were erased in the mountains
abundant sunshine
his mind was in need of repair
so he sought it out
amidst the kindliness
of the mountain's soothing air

My biggest fear is that everyone will eventually discover how positively unremarkable the soul beneath this husk of a person always was,
To shy away from the cringing passersby as they gawp mercilessly at the offending blemish of my existence.
I'm trying to learn how to like myself, but it's a pathological, preexisting condition to be able to identify all of the things wrong with me simultaneously as an individual and as (un)contributing member to society.
I don't mean to be so cruel, for I know in my heart that self-love is paramount to intelligent, peaceful, pleasant enlightenment,
It's merely that I sense some ubiquitously negative energy whenever I make the attempt to muster up some sort of internal kindness.
No, it gets wasted on all the strangers and non-strangers in my socially habituating dwelling.
I'll share with them the stars from the sky and the very constellations from their hearts and make them feel positively dynamic and optimistic and they'll walk away from me with a cushy spot for hope in their pockets.
And I'll retreat to the shelter on my back, drained as if the flow of my mind were poured out in a colander, leaving the pulpy, distastefully rude thoughts that remained to wreak havoc on my crippled self-esteem.
I'm so sorry that my kindliness is some lewd pantomime of genuine altruism.
I'm sorry if I destroyed the ethereal, impossible image of who you fashioned me into.
I was always afraid that this would happen.

Momus is the name men give your face,
The brag of its tone, like a long low steamboat whistle
Finding a way mid mist on a shoreland,
Where gray rocks let the salt water shatter spray
     Against horizons purple, silent.

     Yes, Momus,
Men have flung your face in bronze
To gaze in gargoyle downward on a street-whirl of folk.
They were artists did this, shaped your sad mouth,
Gave you a tall forehead slanted with calm, broad wisdom;
All your lips to the corners and your cheeks to the high bones
Thrown over and through with a smile that forever
     wishes and wishes, purple, silent, fled from all the
     iron things of life, evaded like a sought bandit, gone
     into dreams, by God.

I wonder, Momus,
Whether shadows of the dead sit somewhere and look
     with deep laughter
On men who play in terrible earnest the old, known,
     solemn repetitions of history.

A droning monotone soft as sea laughter hovers from
     your kindliness of bronze,
You give me the human ease of a mountain peak, purple,
     silent;
Granite shoulders heaving above the earth curves,
Careless eye-witness of the spawning tides of men and
     women
Swarming always in a drift of millions to the dust of toil,
     the salt of tears,
And blood drops of undiminishing war.

I read Noah brought the animals in;
And with them brought in
All our sins.
But virtues too were marched within,
And ever since we've worn their skins.

The jackal with his wrathful jaws,
Hides behind the jungle laws.

The peacock arrayed in full feathers,
Can hide his pride with his betters.

The snake that dropped from the tree,
Moults rejection with envy.

The toad, the food chain's first to feed,
Like fat cats fill themselves with greed.

The goat devours like the locust,
Feeding on with gluttonous lust.

The smallest snail in silken cloth,
Moves like justice, slow as sloth.

The pig avoids austerity,
While feeding on dignitarities.

Other animals Noah rescued
Saved humanity by their virtue.

The swan disdains adultery
By embracing life-long chastity.

The camel slurping with prudence,
Eludes drought through temperance.

Birds feed their fledgling adeptly
With mouth to mouth charity.

The ****** known to be a nuisance
Will dam your life with dilligence.

The dog whose loyalty is constant
Waits and wags with patience.

A horse that's never riderless
Will run all day with kindliness.

The gentle lamb of allegory
Is Christ-like in humility.

The ark may not be history,
But works explaining humanity
Through eons of mythology.
He didn't really bring them in,
They weren't in danger,
We're in their skins.

Made strong,
and sturdy,
I am built for suffering;
Created to bear the burderns
of those who cannot lift the weight from thier own shoulders.
I cannot abandon a fellow man to the cold
hard
ground,
one that would swallow him up
and eat him for lunch;
Even though I have tried to forget,
to turn my head away
from the misery of the world I see around me
and selfishly focus on myself,
I remember their faces-
pale and pink
awash with tears
and pleading eyes
and broken dreams;
those faces that hide sorrow
like an empty dinner plate
in a cob-webbed kitchen.
I give up
and let go
forgive slights
and keep secrets;
I am no ones puppet,
and no ones master,
not a saint,
but not a healer,
not a sinner,
but not a believer.
I exist
to take the hit
feel the pain
work through pressure
and walk through fire-
to steal away frowns from sorry faces
that never deserved them.
I give pep talks
and poems,
I greet strangers
on grey days,
in new ways
on buses going nowhere fast.
I'm not perfect by any means,
and I won't laud accomplishments
that aren't achieveable by anyone ordinary
because I find it too terrible that
My opinion is not shared these days;
because
we are all so busy watching tvs and idiots,
quoting gods and people we don't emulate
or care about,
serving cold dishes of slander
while not tipping the waitress who just brought you your beer.
Courtesy and kindliness are things of the past;
like shaking hands,
opening doors,
saying nice things,
or pausing to help someone cross the **** street.
SO,
here I am
a product of an era I never lived in,
a mirage existing in a world I can't abandon,
but that would easily decide to abandon me,
trying to inspire callous people to open their eyes,
their ears,
and their hearts
to see that sonderous ephiphanies still await.
I'm still trying,
and I always will;
Because I was made to suffer for fools.

I guess it's no longer a Secret
By now, you are fully aware that I admire you
Your smile makes it impossible
For me not to
Its such a blessing to
Be able to inhale the carbon dioxide
That you exhale
Filling my lungs with a kindliness that
Not even Hathor herself possessed
With a kiss sweeter than Hershey...
And Godiva chocolates combined
With a smile that could
Illuminate the darkest hour
Your hug feel as if you can
Calm an angry alligators medulla oblongata
Flight or fight huh?
Well...
I promise to fight to
Send you on first class flights
Sharks and whales swimming under
Heated glass floors
Even though you deserve
Mansions with pearly gates
And roads cemented with gold
You're my calming lifeline
Every time I look into your eyes
I see a perfectly imperfect forever

I smell the faint smell of the sampaguita sold to my father
It makes me think about the poor
Whenever we buy this chain of white flowers it is a bookmark in the senses
Poverty
Remember poverty
Smell the pleasantness in your automobile and don't forget poverty.
Who sold it to you? A homeless child.
"It comes from a place I know not where it came from, I forgot"
A life made of lies
We buy this truth but live a lie
We are not happy about the situation
We are not happy that we are happy and they are in shambles
When it rains we praise the clean billboards of the aftermath
But poverty, is not washed or clean
I am not sure what to do with this poverty of kindness
I m lacking in kindliness and gentleness
So what can there be to give to a poor child?
I desire to live benevolently
Desire does not mean I am so
But to desire makes me righteous toward the bad
And hopeful too

Should you see a wet-looking bird,  
Pecking outside your window pane,    
You can easily make a guess,  
He wants to get in from the rain.  

Go and open the window wide,  
And let the feathered fellow in,  
Then you can give him some dry crumbs    
And corn bits on a plate of tin.  

This simple act of kindliness,  
And seeing him picking his food,    
Will have you more than satisfied,  
And leave you feeling very good.  

And the wet bird that cannot speak,  
Will no longer be feeling weak.

But what astonishing feel must this be.
Sensations that run all through your body,
Like a pumping heart rewards life, maybe.
Or a song heard in such sweet melody.

A heart that acts like a lit dynamite.
A complex sense that no more vanishes
To be repelled by someone, but unite.
The bed grows in size, the room flourishes.

But what of all the liberty to miss?
Or a reasonable mind in jeopardy?
Comes into thought that keeping is amiss.
Then just one question left, is it hardy?

At the end it is never lonliness,
Just the most worthy, ever kindliness

the sink is rung with blood
and  with crimson on your hands
you smile through your painted mask.

your veneer of kindliness
is cracked, my dear, and our dinner
guests might be able to see through,
to see the real you.

you can mask my bruises in makeup
but lately these wounds have been
getting deep. these cuts are not so shallow
any more and others can see your art.

you painted me like the nighttime sky
in purples and blues, speckled and shaded
into your creation.

my knees are cracked open
and all that you can do
is pour salt from your
pocket to keep the pain anew.

but you have been running out of tricks
and there is nothing within your grasp
to keep the rope around my neck,
to keep me confined in your grasp,
I’m afraid we have reached an end.

Her Divine Father named her Fatimih
Graceful, gentle the Greatest Holy Leaf
Likened unto Mary or Táhirih
Branching from Oneness, the gems of belief
Her Father, exiled country to country
To the Servant of God years junior
She forgave hardships with serenity
Comforting her Great nephew no sooner
Tender-hearted nature of kindliness
Eloquent tongue painting language like arts
Her spirited ocean eyes would profess
Love that penetrated souls and cold hearts

After eighty six years of mortal strife
She soared to the bliss Abhá afterlife

something obviously created us
for somehow here we are

but is that Something good at all
or are we born under indifferent stars?

no more to war and torment myself
no more searching near and far

but how I  wish for kindliness
caritas y la belleza del mar

The anxiety comes on so strong
Tears and panic again

I reach out to my family
I reach out for a friend

I hate the bipolar madness
Just wish for dailiness do

Struggles one day over
Peace for me and you

          Kindliness too