"nav" poems
Seetaro mai akela chaand si thi wo
Foolon ka mehekta guldan si thi wo
Thi nadi jaisi aviral,chanchal
mere dil ka haal si thi wo
Ghani dhoop mai chav si thi wo
Kisi geet ki addaon si thi wo
Thi hava si mehekti, komal
Mere dil ka bhav si thi wo
Beech majhdhaar mai nav si thi wo
Khusian ka pura gaon si thi wo
Thi koyal si meethi,nishchal
Mere man ka abhiman si thi wo
Paido par wo patto waali hari bhari koi daal si thi wo
Holi ke rango mai sabse saadi ek akeli gulaal si thi wo
Thi wadi kasmiri koi
Mere geeton ka sur aur taal si thi wo
Mandir mai wo shankhnaad si,pooja ka prasad si thi wo
Baarish mai mitti ki khushboo,badal ka dharti se sanvaad si thi wo
Thi meri wo beti pyari,usse hi ghar 'harshit' tha
Mere ghar mai sooraj si,Mere ghar ki shaan si thi wo
Thi ab wo jo nahi rahi,aakhir khata kya thi ki usne
mana hi to kia tha na beta shaadi se,
Par dosti ka haath bhi to badhaya tha
Teri Bezatti toh nahi thi ki usne
Fir kyun tune usko har ghar badnaam kia
Dushman na kare,dost hokar tune aisa kaam kia
Chali gayi ab chhod ke mujhko,wo akele jeevan ki saanjh mai
Meri khushiyan,meri duniya,meri pyari jaan si thi wo
Meri pyari jaan si thi wo
Apr 13, 2017
Apr 13, 2017 at 7:46 AM UTC
The riled route master and the hacked off hackney carriage weren't bothered by the boris bike, they simply barreled along the bus lane oblivious to the wobble, blind to the blindsided and bent on beating the amber to red, til they were halted by the growth factor of a chelsea tractor straddling lanes and field testing the choice of right or left and failing the screen test set by the sat nav, thereby giving opportunity to the swarm of office staffers snatching their chance and chancing their luck, dancing past with their fat chance of swiping in before nine and avoiding the chagrin of the boss who's been the bane of their short sojourn through the city of lost dreams, chance encounters, thin fortune and rushed hours. This is London.
Oct 12, 2018
Oct 12, 2018 at 2:03 PM UTC
Maverick Don’t Panic
A Bad Boy,
with a good Heart,
at the tail end,
of a head start,
“Oh he’s prolific,
he’s profanic,
he’s depressed,
he’s manic,
he’s processed,
he’s organic,
he meditates and sits,
when he just can’t stand it,
and remember this is just a test so for the love of God please don’t panic,
or take anything for granted,
**** it,
I’m a good kid,
but got some bad habits,
got a good plan too,
just have to enact it,
bad,
but not the baddest,
and if they want it,
they can have it,
the map is,
my plan and,
in other words,
the Atlas is how I Nav this,
a Maverick,
like Cuban,
not Gooding no Sir.,
no Jr. a señor,
well not in age but in position,
in other words they’re minor leagues and we’re major,
a Maverick,
like Cuban,
not Gooding no Sir,
no Jr., a señor,
like Mark,
Zuckenberg,
a stark,
contrast between Comcast,
in other words,
Light & Dark are different castes,
in communications at least,
ComCast Communications Caste,
same waves just different frequencies,
in the sea,
the internet catches,
big fish and small fry,
Dark Shadows and Bright Lights,
right?…
∆ Aaron LA Lux ∆
Mar 5, 2017
Mar 5, 2017 at 6:44 PM UTC
There is no driver - go anywhere for a fiver
Pod - cars troll Milton Keynes by no means
seen piloted in four years time - where's mine?
Then they come together in the land of never - never
The sat-nav tells us where we're going
ready to alight when it's finally slowing
what will they think of next? Send a text
with your suggestion - normality's in regression
No one is to blame when there's an accident
nothing is seen to describe an incident
however, at least no one can go on strike
and I won't be reduced to travel by bike
The atmosphere is electric, technology hectic
it was bad enough when we decided to go metric!
Apr 28, 2016
Apr 28, 2016 at 2:20 PM UTC
Kafija
citiem tā vairāk tīk melna
citiem balta
bet man bez cukura.
Kafijas garša ir neaprakstāma
nevajag lsd vai mdma
jo kafija spēj aizstāt visu.
Tai plūstot manī
es sajūtos kā paradīzē
jo kafijā ir kaut kas īpašs,
kaut kas tāds,
kas nav citos dzērienos.
Kafija liek man aizmirsties
un man tas patīk.
Mana burvju dzira
uz mūžū...
Dec 22, 2013
Dec 22, 2013 at 10:13 AM UTC
Some people say Im mad I just blame the L-RAD
Attacked by services syndicate post grad
Breaking the code of conduct that's sad
Criminal cause nullify's the collaborative ad
All privileged storm troopers got more than I have
Is the conscience alive while watching that sat-nav?
As a key worker your care is what we have
But straying for a kickback is a dent & bad
The mental health stigma is the foot soldiers weapon
Labelling us mentally ill with the DSM con
Exclaiming we're mental while the victim is alone
Stigma comes from the compound hear us groan
Hearing me everywhere have traits of a stalker
Attacking innocents with energy weapons lawbreaker
Violating human rights piggy back hijacker
The conspiracy hypothesis is the startler
Whats the biological molecular structure
Of a mental health disorder
A caucus of people of who can shout louder
Followed by misrepresentation from a reporter
Jul 10, 2020
Jul 10, 2020 at 6:35 AM UTC
sveiks dārgais
šodien tev īpaši izceļās acis
vai zināji?
tās mirdz vairāk nekā parasti
vai tu ieraudzīju kaut ko, kas tās apžilbināja?
vai varbūt tās cenšas ieviest gaismu sev apkārt?
apspīdēt cilvēkus, kurus tās uzlūko (?)
vai varbūt tās vienkārši glabā sevī noslēpumu
man nav ne jausmas
tikai tu to zini
es vēlos kaut tu man pateiktu
kaut tu uzrunātu mani
kaut vai bez vārdiem
bez skaņām
bet ar klusumu
ar kustību
ar savu ķermeni
to skaisto ķermeni, kurā dzīvo tava dvēsele
ķermeņa valoda ir pati skaistākā
tā spēj pateikt vairāk nekā simtiem vārdu
tavs smaids ir skaistākā rindkopa šajā stāstā
tu to atkārto tik bieži,
katru dienu
taču man nekad nepietiek..
nekad nevar būt par daudz tava žilbinošā smaida
manas lūpas nekad nespēj pretoties
acis iemirdzās,
sirdspuksti paātrinās
un sākas jauns stāsts,
kurā piedalās mūsu ķermeņi
tie raksta ar saviem locekļiem
pasaku, kurai nav beigu
tā nekad nebeidzas
bet gan turpinās
arī tagad
manas acis uzlūko tevi
tās iekāro tevi no jauna
mana sirds alkst pēc tavas mīlestības
ak mans mīļais
es vēlos veidot jaunu mākslas darbu
paņemsim rokās otas un ļausimies
nedomāsim par laiku
jo laika mūsu pasaulē nav
esam tikai mēs
un mūsu māksla
Oct 27, 2016
Oct 27, 2016 at 2:37 PM UTC
We just can't make them
like this anymore.
The skill and craftsmanship
have been sacrificed
on the altar of accuracy
and machines and computers
have sterilised
the smell of hard work and love.
To make such a map
with no satellites, no certainty
meant wallowing in the mystery of the world.
In the space between knowing and supposing
there was a beauty
we may now miss, or deem unimportant.
However,
if I want to get from my house
to your grave, to pay my respects -
through the shopping malls
and bypasses,
the glass and steel towers
you could never have imagined,
I will use my sat-nav
and be grateful for it.
Dec 7, 2011
Dec 7, 2011 at 7:24 AM UTC
Daisy, Daisy give me your answer do........
boy! That Cadillac was one hell of a piece of engineering.
Burned a long time, like it enjoyed the pain of the flames.
He smiled at the thought.
Handmade by union men the way it should always be.
Not those ******* up ***** like Jimmy Hoffa either.
That ******* probably a ****** like hoover.
The image of him in a basque stuck.
Made him angry, but he soon reined it in.
Lecter was never angry. Not in the books.
He prefered the books, no change-the -ending for the mass appeal.
******* movies.
He was cautious now, the fake i.d. for the rental would fool most.
He was pushing things, her blood in the trunk even burnt black worried him. Next time will be better.
In Daisy's book was a circled name with hearts drawn around it.
Louisa. Her address as well. Nice and easy. 200 miles to go.
Make like Rutger in The Hitcher, move west....
The VW Rabbit was a ****** car after the Caddy.
The two kid's didn't want to give it up easy, but they did in the end.
They looked so silly, tied back-to-back in the rear seat, legs broke to squeeze them in.
Made him smile all through the night.
No blood this time, not yet anyway. Playing Slipknot to **** him off, little *****
Well write a song for these two, clown boy.
He had looked on their lap-top at the poetry site.
Saw the latest post from the pub landlord. He was a little confused, this poem didn't seem to be telling him his next move.
He dragged them out into a ditch before dawn, stood on their necks to **** them, like the coyote trappers did, cruel ********
No blood, just **** all over each other as they died.
Maybe he'd get a reward poem for doing it, in the meantime finding Louisa would keep him occupied.
The vw had a cheap sat nav, hope she's home.....
Jan 27, 2011
Jan 27, 2011 at 3:20 PM UTC
If poetry is a vehicle
I turn on the engine
Move through to high gear
And take myself away
If poetry is a vehicle
I lubricate the hinges
Wash off the dirt
And chase a sunny day
If poetry is a vehicle
I exhale the toxic emissions
Put away the sat nav
And find my own way
If poetry is a vehicle
It will take me to my destination
But will teach me on my journey
To better days
Oct 31, 2015
Oct 31, 2015 at 3:02 AM UTC
Books will soon be fading out
Devices are what we explore
Technology will keep progressing
We are improving more and more
There will be another way too write
They will say no need for ink
Just press the words on your tablet
We have newer ways to think.
Now everything is download
And we are ordering things on line
Soon banks will be run by computers
The sign of these changing times.
Things seem to be moving faster
More so than the speed of light
Keeping up is very hard
When things change overnight.
Now cars will soon go electric
And no drivers will need to drive
It will be similar to a sat nav
We should never be surprised
Who'd think the time would ever come
Where technology rules this earth
Say no to political robots
That simply will never work.
Jul 10, 2019
Jul 10, 2019 at 5:11 PM UTC
when time was something that passed
rather than to be grasped
finishing post in sight
chequered flag on the sat nav
telling you you've arrived
when time was acres of summer sunshine
not pollution coated air, holes in the ozone
worrying about global warming
but still building building building
for the future they say....
when time was your own to cherish
not jobs to do meetings to attend
places to visit but not really see
bills to pay questions to answer
a debt to honour for the ever after
when time just existed
it felt like forever
now there's no forever after
Feb 18, 2023
Feb 18, 2023 at 6:09 AM UTC
THE AMERICANS SPELL GREY WITH AN 'A,'
THEY LACK SUBTLETY SO THEY SAY,
THAT ALL CATS ARE GREY IN THE DARK,
AND IF YOU ASK A DOG - 'DOES IT HURT?
HE'LL REPLY -
'ONLY WHEN I BARK!'
SOMEONE BOUGHT ME SOME KEY RINGS,
SHOWING A MAP OF PENANG AND AUSTRALIA,
A MALAYSIAN DOLLAR - THEN I HEARD THE DOG HOLLER,
THEN I HEARD THAT YOU COULD SPELL CENTRE TWO WAYS,
MAYBE YOU COULD MAKE A CHOICE ON DIFFERENT DAYS,
I SUPPOSE THAT WE SHOULD HAVE A THANKSGIVING FOR ALL
THAT, WE HAVE AN I-POD, I-PHONE AND A SAT-NAV,
LIFE'S A TURKEY, A BARKING DOG AND A BEACH,
WHEN I GO FOR THE DYE - IT'S OUT OF REACH!
Feb 28, 2016
Feb 28, 2016 at 6:04 AM UTC
My pen is my sword
and my strokes are broad
to cut away
at death and decay
the ink is the blood
that I have shed
my thoughts so real
you have read
to allow you to feel
my pain instead.
I write what I know
not for show
or to impress
I invest
my heart and soul
into every line and verse
my agony is real
every word I feel
or have felt
for this deal
I have been dealt
not aces
but deuces
yet I still reduce this
to a single atom
how can you fathom
this much pain
the mental strain
that it takes
from the moment I wake
till my last breath intake
I forsake all happiness
for the sake of anything less
then victory.
Do your ears deceive
or your eyes what you read
I will do anything to succeed
I was born battle ready
my arm grapple steady
for my life’s course
was already set
as my life force
is not easily met
no sat-nav needed
or teachers heeded
for I have featured
in so many battles
and always succeeded
could you take a fatal blow
to your temporal lobe
without being K.O'ed?
'cause I'm still walking
fighting fear with fear
still grinning ear to ear
I have no equal or even peer.
Mar 30, 2016
Mar 30, 2016 at 8:20 PM UTC
I keep my problem
on a leash, next to me at all times
and named him "Jim".
For too slim are the chances
to make more, the last moment dances,
the moonlit fancies.
Despite each and every one of my flaws,
I still manage to drop rhymes
like I drop jaws.
I've had problems, but now the claws
are out
and I can scream, yell and shout
as loud as I can
but the noise will not even register
above the applause.
I'm breaking all the laws
that I have set for myself.
It's always been easier to throw it out
than fix it.
Life is like a drink,
the way that I mix it
and I've seen people kick back
fly through life on a crash course
but I don't need to try it
because it isn't really living
if you do it on auto-pilot.
I won't try to deny a thing,
I've got problems,
but they aren't all I have.
I nav-igate
through a world of hate
and it's always swim or sink
and suffocate.
I've got issues,
but in the face of all those who said
I was "not that great",
They'll have a date with a leg brace
before I let them make me believe it.
Sep 4, 2014
Sep 4, 2014 at 7:19 PM UTC
WHEN THE MERDE HITS THE FAN
Our Sat. Nav's French
is eh...how you say
TRÈS TRÈS
. . .MERDE!
She transforms
Châteauroux into Chatterbox/
She morphs Le Harve>>>
into Le Have Her!
We can only laugh en français!
Streets with longer wording
become simply a slur
of wild guesses. More merde!
Here we be
on the road to Rouen.
Miss Sat. Nav. tells us it's the road
to ruin.
Aghhh...Paris pops up
Who put Paris there!
Even more merde!
We begun to distrust
Miss Sat. Nav.
She sulks for miles.
Insane we are
in the Seine.
Now we drive up
the Loire river.
Straight5 up the middle
with our high-lighted route
jockey along side us
in purple
like a riderless horse
winning the Grand National.
We cast her into
the back seat
make the ferry
( no thanks to her)
....ju....ju...just!
Oct 26, 2016
Oct 26, 2016 at 6:45 PM UTC
In the dream (or perhaps it is forseeing) it is cold,
The air carries whispers of ice
That cut through the warmth of my skin
Like knives,
The quay is deserted,
Quiet aside from the occasional
Breeze induced moan from
A beer bottle tossed casually away
To lie discarded and thereby
A bit like me,
As I single up the mooring lines
Of the boat below me its movement
Becomes greater,
As if shunning the cold stillness
Of the land,
And seeing this I feel kinship
With the waking hull,
And a sense of shared impending journey
To the grey seas
Beyond the harbour wall,
As I work the halyards and
Aged sails creak up the mast
The breeze becomes more evident
In the brisk flapping of canvas,
Rime frost on the gunwhales gives way
To dark hand prints as I steady myself
Moving forward and aft,
Steadily prepping for departure
In a routine well known
Across decades,
Finally all is ready,
The wind picks up,
Sundering the clouds to reveal
A clear black sky studded in diamonds,
The navigation lights
From far galaxies come to light my way
As the backed foresail
Pushes the bows away,
Then with a creak the boom quells
The flapping main,
Approaching the harbour mouth
The wind rises further and a few
Long lazy yet driven rollers
Make their presence felt,
The heel increases as the bow tastes freedom,
Nav lights on the breakwater are
Unnaturally bright but no one sees
Nor waves goodbye,
Nor ever will again for tonight
I that was James just crossed the bar
Feb 5, 2021
Feb 5, 2021 at 3:51 PM UTC
I woke up this morning
With the feeling there was something missing
So with all that I have being the clothes on my back
I started out for who knows where
I felt the desire to search for trust
But it turns out it's just my luck
I had come upon the wrong address
Under the suns glare my sat nav blared 'make a U-turn' ahead
Trust up and moved on down the road
Who in this day and age would have ever known
Seems that trust felt the need to leave
And without trust who now can we believe
Perhaps it made friends with love
Or maybe made friends with deception
Something I would never know
And so I was back on my own
I am now on the road these days seldom taken
To find trust and help it prosper
I ask everyone I see if they could help tell me
But it seems trust is only a whisper
I will continue on in my travels
With that strong desire to fill trusts needs
As I am open to any direction
And all possibilities
Jun 17, 2014
Jun 17, 2014 at 7:41 AM UTC
I set my boundaries
But your angel fire burned them.
I set my sat nav to you and you to I
But I was flying blind.
I wanted to love and cherish you
But as the eldest I take responsibility.
I looked at you and thought I knew all
But all I saw was beautiful heaven eyes.
I lay awake and thought of you always
But I only knew you until midnight.
I thought I just liked you
But you are my class a drug.
I tried not to love you
But you stirred my mortal engines.
I know you seem the only one now
But you can only be the first of your bloodline.
I take tea with you and feel so grand
But you sit on the silver chair.
I love one who I can't trust
But that is the fault in our stars.
I thought you a simple book
But you are quantum physics for dummies.
I could never run through fire
But I would by royal command.
I hoped for a first love that was perfect
But this is beautiful chaos.
Jun 6, 2014
Jun 6, 2014 at 2:13 PM UTC
Touring County Sligo
In my Toyota Aygo.
In-built Sat Nav Mishap,
No real road map.
Lost in County Sligo
Cursing my Toyota Aygo.
Feb 17, 2019
Feb 17, 2019 at 4:30 PM UTC
Back in the day a boy would run away
Feeling very bold, he would head towards a dock, stow away in the hold.
After 5 days at sea and feeling very hungry he would show himself to the crew.
First he would get a beating then he would get some tea, finally he would be put to work out upon the sea.
The boy would become a man, sailing the seven Seas.
Eventually being given a boat that he has full command.
He and his crew would become very tight and have each others back should they get in a fight.
They set course on a map, no technology or Sat nav to send them on their way.
They used the Stars and Planets as their guide, using the Milky Way or Pluto and Saturn to chart the destination of their ride.
2 days now until they reach shore who knows what awaits them when their feet hit the ground.
Hard to tell what lies await what new vegetable or fruit will be their fate.
Will it be potatoes or tobacco this time, who will be around to tell them of it's name, is the island inhabited does it have a name?
Are the locals friendly will they offer food or will they be unfriendly and threaten to raid the boat.
Strip the Sailors of their food, their wordly possessions and their coat.
Tis for sure being a Sailor back in the day, was not fun it has to be said but definitely turned you from boy to man.
When you returned to your home land after many years at sea, it most likely seemed very foreign and even unfriendly.
The journey from boy to man to sailor now complete what is there left to do but sit back, get your pipe out, rest up your feet.
Jan 19, 2018
Jan 19, 2018 at 4:52 PM UTC
They used to say “yes” or “no”
And you would know where to go.
Now life is complicated, they say they don’t know
Fearful of mistakes, everyone is vague and slow.
They just look up at the sky…(where the info “cloud” is?)
Not looking you in the eye.
Of most things everyone seems so unsure.
The answer to most questions is “e…er…e-er…”
If you can, you will look it up online:
However, there is no Sat-Nav or sign;
“Answers” pop up from every direction…
Follow your nose at your own discretion!
Interpret it at your own risk…
Everything is just hit and miss!
Hours later, forgetting what you are looking for –
Each person, his own expert (according to the law…),
You feel tired and completely drained,
Like a Dalek has sizzled your brain.
Your initial enthusiasm is gone and energy, too.
All you can whisper, weakly, are two meaningless words, “Boo…hoo…!”
Aug 22, 2018
Aug 22, 2018 at 8:29 AM UTC
I'm going to build a human rocket
Okay, stop there, let me take you back to chemistry class
Remember the blast, the six foot hole
I know, but I was young then, now I know what I'm doing
Okay, let me remind you, your supersonic car
The passengers on the top deck of the number 49 watched you flying by
You caused mayhem
Exactly, now I've recalculated
My god, the exact words you used with your rotorless helicopter
People have stopped using the 49 now
Mrs Brown took a heart attack when she saw you with a screwdriver
You have to stop man
Can’t, I'm on the verge of greatness
Don’t use that word, verge
Your electric car, and the mile long length of cable
That poor driver, when you turned in front of him
He just stopped the bus, walked up to the psychiatric hospital, and committed himself
Well I can hardly be blamed for that
Never understood why he gave up the teaching job
Look, just go down the Job centre, they’ll fix you up with something
Now promise me
Okay,I’ll go down the Job centre
One week later
News has just come in of a suspected terrorist attack in London, reports of an Exocet missile flying round Big Ben have been confirmed.
Police have now confirmed the missile was in fact a human rocket.
Latest reports coming in, seem to suggest the terrorist has been killed by a Double decker bus, we also believe the driver was attacked by the passengers, suggesting a second terrorist was involved.
Police have now totally ruled out the attack on Big ben as a terrorist attack, reports coming in suggest the human rocket was in fact an ex chemistry teacher, sketchy reports are also coming in regarding the 49 bus, which seemed to be a hundred miles off route.
Passengers tell of the horrendous journey,the bus company say the driver had removed the route sat nav, replacing it with a revolutionary sat nav he had invented that day.
As a mark of respect, the bus company say they will be changing the 49 to the new 50. Relaunched that day, all was going well for the new driver, till a large Bat shaped object landed on the windscreen.
Apr 8, 2015
Apr 8, 2015 at 7:00 AM UTC
I tell ya.
Angels
are not as much of a flight risk
as you first may think.
The cherubim however
are flighty
and way more likely to fly off
at the baby's first cry
Like they've got somewhere else to be.
Just try. You'll see.
Not even a bye-bye.
But angels, oh man.
Angels -
I'm a fan.
You can set your Sat Nav
on an Angel.
Dreamtime or lunchtime,
they'll be your guide.
- Sublime.
Me and Mary
were fans.
- Jesus!
Put those nails down.
If your mum catches you with those, she'll go spare.
Dec 11, 2018
Dec 11, 2018 at 3:58 PM UTC
The radio reports no congestion
and the goings good with few delays.
Sat Nav tells me it will take no time
with light traffic the whole way.
It's apparently never crowded here
on this less travelled extra mile
I'm a first time pilgrim and I've not passed others
for a good lonely long while.
Aug 26, 2017
Aug 26, 2017 at 12:46 PM UTC