"mediate" poems
When brothers go to war there are no captives/
When brothers go to war we find only casualties/
The in explicable war between Palestine and Israel,/
In this poem i hope that peace would prevail/
Countries at the crossroads of heaven and hell/
Their war has lasted for ages/
Pain and revenge bitterness and hate/
When brothers go to war who dares to mediate/
Who knows of their fate who knows whose right/
Its bee like this for so many years/
Who will be there to wipe their tears/
Who will be there to give hope to those in fear/
Who will dare to go and interfere/
When brothers go to war know that the end is near/
Hold on and sanctify your soul in prayer/
When brothers go to war who is the villain who is the saint/
The war of Israel and Palestine stained in red paint/
A revelation to the faint hearted/
A lesson to the boastful and egocentric/
Innocent lives lost when brothers go to war/
A gentle answer turns away wrath/
But a harsh word stirs up anger/
A hot tempered man stirs up dissension/
But a patient man calms a quarrel/
When brothers go to war who dares mediate
(c) ISSAI
Jul 22, 2014
Jul 22, 2014 at 2:50 AM UTC
vanishing hope
for consumption as a way of life
obese children shovel pharmaceuticals
down the throats of the infirm
internally developing low-tone hymns
relating to slow death by corporate greed –
albino judicators
pass melanin laws
felonizing the populace
perpetuating the proletariat
while pontificating
on the post 9/11 society –
isolated rabble-rousers
screaming at eggshell walls
dislodge tacks holding together
the fabric of American culture
with ingrown and chewed fingernails
flailing armies
think back to trench warfare –
robust midwives mediate
heated discussions
as the United Nations blindly
support U.S. imperialism
looking for kickbacks
from energy companies
globalization giving all humanity
incurable S.T.D.’s –
the last free house mouse
bounds betwixt the ruins
energetically sniffing the rubble
seeking some small morsel
to satisfy its hunger –
Sep 23, 2015
Sep 23, 2015 at 12:49 PM UTC
A lion,
born in a western world
caged and tamed to follow a system
History of its ancestry runs deep in its veins
Pain drained and forgotten,
for aspiring to fame to escape from the bottom
got caught in the game
And the path to fame was floppin’
Started shottin’, plottin’ schemes for currency
To fulfil its dreams of living free
But obstacles arise,
disguised as necessities
time consuming tasks that mask the truth
Bill bills money power
No time to stop sinking deeper every hour
Bills bills money power
No time to stop
..And appreciate nature, flowers,
Bills bills money power
Bills bills money power, power,
Power is suttin they’ll never have
cause powers that be, mediate a mentality
that’s blind and cant see
Busy concentrating,
contemplating 'bout money when
energy should be spent on education,
cause knowledge is power,
And power is creation
Innovation of new and, wonderful things,
And, some do wonderful things
But this lion, inside is crying
Was hard as iron, but finds he’s dying,
Spending time on petty crimes,
Chooses to sit at the back of the bus,
And cuss his friend with the word
******
Talkin’ bout gun trigger,
For fun I figure its dumb,
But makes sense,
When he’s watching 50 Cent talk nonsense.
Jan 13, 2011
Jan 13, 2011 at 1:30 PM UTC
Consider a dandelion
Consider a mountain peak
Consider the ripples from a single drop or beat
Consider a star explosion
Consider space and blackhole son
Consider even suns and moons
are satellites of a greater U vision
To father is to reach a view that stretches far beyond
What you ever thought you could ever do
The highest bell rung
To father is to find what's true
fill the gap and know what is out
of ones control too
To father is to make a splash and as you fade to the depths unknown grave
the waves you made
are all that's left to carry on infinitely
To father is to be okay burning up yourself as you light the way
holding glass minerals gas and stone
without knowing exactly how or where the spinning turned a house to a home
Just knowing that when you reach
the top or your mass collapse drops
it could break the very world you create and devistate
the very plans woven to levitate
SEW
Fathers Mediate the space between
The waves and dreams
Winds and streams
Pulling your seeds apart
Stack mass and cash
to pay attention to their heART
Spinning webs of redemption
Stitching wounds building arks
So as I grasp the view
of the present bestowed and
I shiver in the vast unknown
but no matter beating rain
or interstellar hurricane
The futures big enough for my echo to be heard again and again.
Jun 18, 2017
Jun 18, 2017 at 10:13 PM UTC
Frozen moments,
embraced,
visions of
luminous things,
unpretentious
pearls dancing;
embers of memory linger,
elegy of the lachrymose,
this horizoning self
lying low in saturnine
tranquility
and repose – paternity lost
to the provisional.
The cross of lassitude,
forming
scars of loss;
estrangement,
preface to
ineluctable autonomy.
Earthen treasure - immortal
footprints, the migration
of fair maidens across my
effusive heart.
Venus trio in bloom,
aesthetic allusion,
ephemeral incarnations
of beauty - perishable fruit,
transcending the plebeian.
Aerial substance-
the hermeneutic,
betraying desire’s
ambrosial tyranny;
The permuted passage -
savor the sojourn, submit
to the fated peregrination.
Purple orchids blossom,
immortal creatures,
culminating
in perfection
from the sheath
respectively,
each plume,
singular,
the continuum of
splendor, mediate
the inviolable.
Eternity compounding,
time and essence suffuse
the already and not yet
into an
orbiting mosaic.
The susurrant devotions
of a satellite father,
summon the quest -
both, and,
absence and proximity,
conduits of
distress and peace
ironically,
solace and
terror
traverse the
same path.
Plunge though,
deep, the depth of pain;
deeper, sweeter
the taste of pleasure.
Engender and witness,
window into
preeminence,
surface azure,
the sacred -
inimitable gravity of
grandeur,
ma petite,
you - are
lived poetry
seen and heard;
cosmic order,
a mediating heuristic -
to love is to see,
in the dismal,
gift of distance.
child of delight,
evermore, Don’t I hold you?
Beauty and strangeness,
music found
in linear,
secret places
beyond the tangent,
purview of limitation,
arousing imagination -
infinititude as near
as it is far.
Long loneliness -
dissonance that
resolves;
perceiving,
the tertiary refrain -
as exquisite verse,
and matchless liqueur,
sublime gratuity
derived
through
doors of surrender.
Daughter,
in adoration and wonder,
I hold you.
Jan 19, 2012
Jan 19, 2012 at 5:25 PM UTC
*we won't die for ideals we once held dear, we'll now simply die for the numbers we can simply keep, but when it comes to ourselves, we'll die to simply keep a mistook numbering in order to readdress the ideals that are no longer appreciated in our numbering a loss of a tiger's roar, and more the microscopic ant digestion auditory exploding into a h-bomb for man to imitate by number but no essential authority: since once mammoth the authority killed man, now some sub-insect (virus) can **** man.*
if there's a group of people
who are assumed to be possessed,
then there's a group of people
who are dis-possessed,
and there's always the middle
interval mediating sales and
necessary priesthood
the two polars never mediate,
once the priesthood used to
cradle the illiterate ones,
now the priesthood uses the literacy
of the once illiterate ones
now literate, consecrating them
with something apart from holy water,
selective reading they testified
to be as calm as a lake, but turbulent
as a river the salmon swam against
the current to spawn:
the once illiterate ones now literate
are taught a second illiteracy:
watch the television, read the best-sellers..
this second illiteracy is worse
than the original one... half of us will
be water and fat... and half of us epileptic zombies
enslaved by a television... i preferred the first
illiteracy... at least we died for love...
this second illiteracy is worth a jackal's
cry and a ******* of paedophiles.
Feb 1, 2016
Feb 1, 2016 at 9:13 PM UTC
It’s hard to intervene when people fight.
Recall being thumped for “bullying” a lad
Who’d harassed ME.
So hard to tell
Who’s right or wrong.
Who made the first jibe
Or struck the first blow?
The same with global conflicts too:
Irish Catholic or Protestant?
Israel or Palestine?
Communist Country or Capitalist?
The list goes on…
Best keep out of it if you can.
Do not make judgement,
Just mediate as best you can.
Preach fairness and conciliation:
Do your best to facilitate
Peace.
Paul Butters
Jul 12, 2016
Jul 12, 2016 at 4:33 AM UTC
My juxtaposition to your heart...
Just short of right and just left of leaving...
This fascination...distant adoration...
Trailing off into the distance...despite my own persistence...going...going...gone...
You see...Yours was a velvet touch... smooth against the skin of my soul...
My lips raw from your sandpaper kiss...once riveting...
Now... remorseful hue... morose shade of blue...defunct me and you...
My own sweet type of primal bliss...you...audaciously exist...within me...
As I the ribbon...the strand...
NO...the last straw...
Am wrapped around your finger...linger...
flail...fight...then make tight...our binding...
Intertwining...
Bound by our brittle bias...
And you... pious... feel the need to mediate...to delegate...
NO...dominate...
Our love...
You... an anomaly...of the not right variety...
Build...gather...house the mire ...selfishly... misty moments... memories
My pain protruding...while eluding...my acute identity...
Pregnant with grief...disbelief...I strain...
Laboriously to free you...
Giving birth to the rain...
of emotions...
And OUR storm rages on...
A weeping...seeping semblance of love...
Circling the drain of our destruction...
Jan 20, 2013
Jan 20, 2013 at 4:59 PM UTC
and so life makes life.
the strange beauty
of pollination.
flowers allowing insects
to mediate, relegate, perpetrate
and consummate their ancient ritual,
their sacred act of reproduction.
A third party multispecies **** of sorts.
But the bees never get off.
still,
truly takes the task a touch further
than the innumerable sea animals
who mate in mass,
whole schools of fish
releasing egg and *****
anonymously
in a surging swarm of ***
generating the next generation.
and so life makes life.
Apr 12, 2010
Apr 12, 2010 at 5:27 AM UTC
she was always
mediocre
from the minute she was born.
absolutely average in every way.
she was the middle child
always trying to mediate
big brother and little sister
stuck in the middle.
she loved the theatre
yet she was always a small role
always in the show, never a lead,
perfectly average.
smart, but not first in her class
just above
average.
average build, average athlete,
average personality,
average person.
and as she set expectations for herself,
her average-ness
crushed her
and she wanted to be
Perfect.
Dec 23, 2017
Dec 23, 2017 at 10:55 PM UTC
If I did not notice the Silence,
I would not know varieties of Sound
If I did not know of barren desolation,
I would not meet with Wonder the Nature of The Mother
If not blankets of numb Paralysis take Me
I could not feel Elation of Sensation
If not He, then not She
Duties of Duality is precurse to Selfless Compassion
To Change the World, One must know the Scales of Balance that Mediate the Self, once in Centerline, the Soul can Shine a brilliant Intention that Manifest in Action an Energy of Transformation aligned with Earth. Our Prayers be Heard and appreciated, accepted in Heart of the World shall cometh forth a prosperity and Worth Divine for You and I
So all the Children will Understand Intuitively, merging Mind Eternally. Destiny entwined with Currents We Ride, You decide the Destination.
Jul 15, 2014
Jul 15, 2014 at 6:24 PM UTC
alight a path of excited neurons
saved by corporeal fuses
sacrificed fried to save
my head from overloads all the
amperage storing up
Danger High Voltage!!!
flows inside from too much reality.
I need your alternating current
to mediate my DC.
To my Tesla, like, you are , Miss Whitman.
To your Edison I am but one spark of Voltaire.
You sing of electric bodies ten million volts.
I imitate Voltaire as he did Virgil.
If someday we should unite,
our sparks would alight on eternity.
Mar 18, 2015
Mar 18, 2015 at 9:16 PM UTC
It’s a race to the bottom of the bottle
between sanity and sober realization
to every impaired negation and how to
alleviate and mediate the dependancy I
place on finding new routes to the
end of the flask. —
The hands of the bottle hold
dreaded burdens above my head,
bringing life to each morrowed breath,
and write hyms towards yearning
a long awaited wish for death,
sobriety weaves this addiction
of solitude through each thought of
halted life, and pushes it’s back
as it’s heels leave crevices to follow,
a view of darkness to come,
with turning back placing another knot
down a throat with attempt to swallow.
as each run of whiskey drips down the
walls of my throat the sinking ship within
my veins finds strength to stay afloat.
a Wiser whisper tickles at the anticipations
towards taking another sip,
the Hennessy tendencies stutter
a ****** equilibrium captivating
and inching my sanity towards
a shot of sequel librium. —
As ***** spews and consumes
the inhabited ground, a paroxysm
of unconsciousness feels
mentally sound,
blacked out with the following
morning full of acts to repent,
the monetary blackness
proves to be nothing but content,
recollection of priors
seem to fade with the desire of
sobriety and eliminating any hope
towards thoughtless propriety. —
Momentary happiness through
intoxication provides no mediation
between a sober fight for death
and a drunken one, the wish for
lifelessness is just subdued by
stumbling to bed and the inability
to steadily hold a gun to my head.
Jul 21, 2015
Jul 21, 2015 at 7:56 PM UTC
You started off
Creating snapshots out of words you caught,
Shouting out my name calling to my interests.
I was happy to come and be softly
Caressed by words that hate, love, feel, taste
To mediate for my torn heart strings
To just listen to the poem,
Re-understand’em get to know them.
Stick around long enough for soft images
To reconcile lost moral, revive my sense of self.
Opening led to spilled words,
You must have smiled to have heard,
Because you retorted immediately, messaged
A kind word. You became a friend of the pen,
Than a pen pal and then Stepping from
Ambiguity of dark tree limbs you
Climbed into my heart and became my friend.
The only problem is that moment you transformed,
From rhymes and font on page, to a voice
with dialect, Tenor, Volume
and inflection, something changed.
Poems I have read a dozen times,
I just can’t read the same, Because
every time I end a line
I hear a southern twang.
May 10, 2012
May 10, 2012 at 11:28 AM UTC
She has a baby, the other has a honey, the last is lonely
three ladies all loving, sweet and independently hot
they all having various mediate metamorphosis
the beats of a Barry white song airing my sensors
i feel like they're all with me in this studio hut
what do i say to get away from this love prone stampede
she has a baby so only a voice like Barry White
can suite her flaring flames of Mother hood
"Believe me , I used to but I ain't a boy anymore
there's no love that can touch me anymore than
all you've given me, My baby carrying my baby..."
exhales in slow paces, how do i survive this longer
the beats of a Usher Raymond song hits me up
**** mama, you're the same girl i saw with him
oh! no i ain't jealous of your man, i'm just sure
he ain't man enough for you like i would
don't call me when he wants you no more
take this i got to go, i really have to go now
i ain't leaving you, if you're going with me
Exhales in heightened paces, i'm getting there
loneliness only brings you closer to your inner man
togetherness brings out the best in you and your man
at the corner of the crowded dance floor beauty sat alone
glaring at all the gesticulations and rigorous body movements
how lonely she looked alone in the corner rejecting all invites
Apr 28, 2014
Apr 28, 2014 at 11:30 AM UTC
I take my stand
Between the great
And the unfortunate
To mediate the wealth
My many talents
Are forced to get
To alleviate pressure
With generous efforts
And become who I am
Not anything lesser
Aug 25, 2014
Aug 25, 2014 at 9:19 PM UTC
perhaps we do not wish to admit,
that the majority of the words we speak,
the conversations overheard, even without intent,
leave us not awash, not suffocating, but
mesmerized in an awful way
squelching tirades of banality,
humdrum housework life's tirades of
meeting basic needs, functionaries of life,
bureaucrats of our domestic affairs,
accountants calculating marginal cures,
overridden by the occasional impulse,
which delights until it too
is humdrum-ed out of existence
a passing blazing ambulance
begs to contradict,
reminders that there are
crevasses on the city streets,
that in minuscule moments,
life becomes twisted making our lethargy,
a course 101 introduction to tragedy
but this is not the norm,
this imbalanced equation,
1X = 99 whys,
to survive,
to justify,
to mediate
between these un-counterbalanced weights,
I write poetry
Aug 18, 2014
Aug 18, 2014 at 6:57 PM UTC
*yeah, they cut out my third ****** from my shoulder blade and i turned into a bond girl; oh god, you're not one of those bulletproof people confused about love like a nurse confused by a disease? you are? oh god help me... you'll go far! straight to daddy's pocket purse and saturday night... you'll throw stilettos at chandeliers and expect a catwalk blackout... god forbid that should happen with everyone biting their toenails.*
between us we share the bathroom
and the bedroom,
we sit on the stilt framing see-through of it admirably
airy and welcoming stars:
wishing for foxes and women respectively,
all you can hear is a meow... meow... meow...
meow meow... moo... µ... meow... meow interchange
between these two rooms in the garden air,
it’s like a fetish orchestra giving ‘prior to sleep’ crescendos,
and it makes sense to write a forgivable poem
of this least content, content with the least as me writing it;
well d'uh, of course i had to write it,
i wasn't going to stage a boxing match with stella artois
losing care for words and taking care of action,
i was going to mediate the page like a kite being passed
on with paddington bear's secret inscriptions to get from
london to sydney; i hope it worked.
the drunkard? oh... he's either silent, crying, laughing,
or simply reading.
Oct 18, 2015
Oct 18, 2015 at 7:19 PM UTC
Strive to be at peace without emotions,
quiet the noise inside your mind.
Be still.
Be in harmony with life,
do not react to passion.
Stay calm.
Do not fear loss and death,
pain is a dark cloud.
Mediate.
Focus on the magnificent energy,
become one with you.
Jan 26, 2016
Jan 26, 2016 at 5:59 AM UTC
the terror your eyes make me feel,
is unmatched by any physical danger.
no height nor fire could make me shake and drip like you do
and I suppose it's not your fault,
but I sleep in oceans and mediate on dancing.
your smile makes me fear for my life
and your touch makes me want to die
but please don't blame yourself baby
for you can't be held responsible for the tempest, she follows me
and this fleeting kiss has been an unmitigated dream.
but lastly that voice
oh that voice,
the one i could listen to for years
is but a siren song
leading me to the rocks where i am foreordained to capsize
Mar 25, 2014
Mar 25, 2014 at 1:28 AM UTC
Worship His Lordship,
Brace up timely solace,
Before you are befooled,
No syntax would serve,
When death comes to date.
Believe in boundless bliss beyond ….. 1
Oh Dear, desist from desires,
That govern mundane mandate.
Blessed are you, whatever deserved,
Of your actions, or inactions past,
Be content and devoted,
To your duty, serene and supreme
Believe in boundless bliss beyond ……2
Concealed by shiny silky skin,
Beauty is one of flesh n’ blood,
Glow or glamour is never forever,
Introspect and respect the truth,
Let not illusion overtake your wisdom.
Believe in boundless bliss beyond ……3
Eventual, life bubbles off,
Like a droplet on lotus leaf,
Conjured by complexion,
Concluded by deadly disease.
Believe in boundless bliss beyond ……4
Kith n’ kin crowd around,
And enjoy the fun and frolic,
Of youth, of health n’ wealth.
As the age anchors in sickness,
No referee comes to your rescue.
Believe in boundless bliss beyond……5
Sprint is the spirit of life,
The Soul holds the body
The day the Soul skips away,
Even your wife walks astray
Believe in boundless bliss beyond……6
Fun n’ play rein budding life,
Youngling passions linger fore,
Hoary age diminishes in distress,
None to come along, nothing to impress,
When the dusk dawns on you,
Too late to mediate and meditate.
Believe in boundless bliss beyond…….7
After all, what are you!
Of whom are you?
Who your wife and children are?
Are the bonds you made binding?
What is your origin or horizon?
Ponder over the divine marvel
Believe in boundless bliss beyond ……8
Feb 6, 2015
Feb 6, 2015 at 8:43 AM UTC
A - A7 - E7 - Cmaj7
Am - A - C - G
G - Cmaj7 - G - cmaj7
G - Cmaj7 - G - strum
A - Am - C - Am
A - Am - C - strum individually 1st fret, 5th - 3rd - 2nd chord
i’m just tryin to get by
some days i’m just tryin to get high
this society taught me not to cry
so this society can deal with my
battered ego tonight
cause i’m just trying to understand
i’m just getting a better grasp on this hand
but no one can play cards
and no one can make art
without thinkin ‘bout the hands
those around them have landed
our world is not simple
everyone's been branded
and everyone stuffs a few cards up their sleeves
and everyone leaves a trail of unused aces
when they leave
br) because you’re not the only one
who wants to run away to nepal
and you’re not the only one
who sees this nation is a maze
made of, shifting walls
and you’re not the only one
who’s afraid to take out a loan
and you’re not the only one
who feels uncomfortable alone with police
and in, shopping malls
i’m just tryin to get by
some days i’m just tryin to get high
it was this society that taught me not to cry
so this society can deal with
my battered ego tonight
this place hurts us all
and i wonder why we stay here
and fall for all the pretty ways to stall
away the mindless days
high heels and guns can intimidate
but not mediate, a fall
Aug 7, 2013
Aug 7, 2013 at 1:53 PM UTC
Do something, do nothing
Is what the head goblins say
Say something, don't speak
Is told to me day by day
Make a change, do nothing
Is what the head goblins yell
Write something, write nothing
As they bury me deeper into hell.
Make something, destroy everything
Is what the head goblins request
Walk somewhere, sit somewhere
Ain't they just a pest?
Love her, hate him
Is what the head goblins demand
Talk, speak, riot, reek, isolate, permeate, mediate, violate
The head goblins have me buried in the sand.
Oct 19, 2018
Oct 19, 2018 at 12:19 AM UTC