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"nepal" poems
Afghanistan needs hellopoetry Albania needs hellopoetry Algeria needs hellopoetry Andorra needs hellopoetry Angola needs hellopoetry Antigua and Barbuda needs hellopoetry Argentina needs hellopoetry Armenia needs hellopoetry Australia needs hellopoetry Austria needs hellopoetry Azerbaijan needs hellopoetry The Bahamas needs hellopoetry Bahrain needs hellopoetry Bangladesh needs hellopoetry Barbados needs hellopoetry Belarus needs hellopoetry Belgium needs hellopoetry Belize needs hellopoetry Benin needs hellopoetry Bhutan needs hellopoetry Bolivia needs hellopoetry Bosnia and Herzegovina needs hellopoetry Botswana needs hellopoetry Brazil needs hellopoetry Brunei needs hellopoetry Bulgaria needs hellopoetry Burkina Faso needs hellopoetry Burundi needs hellopoetry Cabo Verde needs hellopoetry Cambodia needs hellopoetry Cameroon needs hellopoetry Canada needs hellopoetry Central African Republic needs hellopoetry Chad needs hellopoetry Chile needs hellopoetry China needs hellopoetry 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needs hellopoetry Rwanda needs hellopoetry Saint Kitts and Nevis needs hellopoetry Saint Lucia needs hellopoetry Saint Vincent and the Grenadines needs hellopoetry Samoa needs hellopoetry San Marino needs hellopoetry Sao Tome and Principe needs hellopoetry Saudi Arabia needs hellopoetry Senegal needs hellopoetry Serbia needs hellopoetry Seychelles needs hellopoetry Sierra Leone needs hellopoetry Singapore needs hellopoetry Slovakia needs hellopoetry Slovenia needs hellopoetry Solomon Islands needs hellopoetry Somalia needs hellopoetry South Africa needs hellopoetry Spain needs hellopoetry Sri Lanka needs hellopoetry Sudan needs hellopoetry Sudan, South needs hellopoetry Suriname needs hellopoetry Sweden needs hellopoetry Switzerland needs hellopoetry Syria needs hellopoetry Taiwan needs hellopoetry Tajikistan needs hellopoetry Tanzania needs hellopoetry Thailand needs hellopoetry Togo needs hellopoetry Tonga needs hellopoetry Trinidad and Tobago needs hellopoetry Tunisia needs hellopoetry Turkey needs hellopoetry Turkmenistan needs hellopoetry Tuvalu needs hellopoetry Uganda needs hellopoetry Ukraine needs hellopoetry United Arab Emirates needs hellopoetry United Kingdom needs hellopoetry United States needs hellopoetry Uruguay needs hellopoetry Uzbekistan needs hellopoetry Vanuatu needs hellopoetry Vatican City needs hellopoetry Venezuela needs hellopoetry Vietnam needs hellopoetry Yemen needs hellopoetry Zambia needs hellopoetry Zimbabwe needs hellopoetry
0
Dec 21, 2019
Dec 21, 2019 at 11:08 AM UTC
maxneumann
The World NEEDS HelloPoetry (Please Make A Contribution.)
Afghanistan needs hellopoetry Albania needs hellopoetry Algeria needs hellopoetry Andorra needs hellopoetry Angola needs hellopoetry Antigua and Barbuda needs hellopoetry Argentina needs hellopoetry Armenia needs hellopoetry Australia needs hellopoetry Austria needs hellopoetry Azerbaijan needs hellopoetry The Bahamas needs hellopoetry Bahrain needs hellopoetry Bangladesh needs hellopoetry Barbados needs hellopoetry Belarus needs hellopoetry Belgium needs hellopoetry Belize needs hellopoetry Benin needs hellopoetry Bhutan needs hellopoetry Bolivia needs hellopoetry Bosnia and Herzegovina needs hellopoetry Botswana needs hellopoetry Brazil needs hellopoetry Brunei needs hellopoetry Bulgaria needs hellopoetry Burkina Faso needs hellopoetry Burundi needs hellopoetry Cabo Verde needs hellopoetry Cambodia needs hellopoetry Cameroon needs hellopoetry Canada needs hellopoetry Central African Republic needs hellopoetry Chad needs hellopoetry Chile needs hellopoetry China needs hellopoetry Colombia needs hellopoetry Comoros needs hellopoetry Congo, Democratic Republic is in need of hellopoetry Congo, Republic is in need of hellopoetry   Costa Rica needs hellopoetry Côte d’Ivoire needs hellopoetry Croatia needs hellopoetry Cuba needs hellopoetry Cyprus needs hellopoetry Czech Republic needs hellopoetry Denmark needs hellopoetry   Djibouti needs hellopoetry Dominica needs hellopoetry Dominican Republic needs hellopoetry East Timor (Timor-Leste) needs hellopoetry Ecuador needs hellopoetry Egypt needs hellopoetry   El Salvador needs hellopoetry Equatorial Guinea needs hellopoetry Eritrea needs hellopoetry Estonia needs hellopoetry Eswatini needs hellopoetry Ethiopia needs hellopoetry Fiji needs hellopoetry Finland needs hellopoetry France needs hellopoetry Gabon needs hellopoetry The Gambia needs hellopoetry Georgia needs hellopoetry Germany needs hellopoetry Ghana needs hellopoetry Greece needs hellopoetry Grenada needs hellopoetry Guatemala needs hellopoetry Guinea needs hellopoetry Guinea-Bissau needs hellopoetry Guyana needs hellopoetry Haiti needs hellopoetry Honduras needs hellopoetry Hungary needs hellopoetry Iceland needs hellopoetry India needs hellopoetry Indonesia needs hellopoetry Iran needs hellopoetry Iraq needs hellopoetry Ireland needs hellopoetry Israel needs hellopoetry Italy needs hellopoetry Jamaica needs hellopoetry Japan needs hellopoetry Jordan needs hellopoetry Kazakhstan needs hellopoetry Kenya needs hellopoetry Kiribati needs hellopoetry Korea, North needs hellopoetry Korea, South needs hellopoetry Kosovo needs hellopoetry Kuwait needs hellopoetry Kyrgyzstan needs hellopoetry Laos needs hellopoetry Latvia needs hellopoetry Lebanon needs hellopoetry Lesotho needs hellopoetry Liberia needs hellopoetry Libya needs hellopoetry Liechtenstein needs hellopoetry Lithuania needs hellopoetry Luxembourg needs hellopoetry Madagascar needs hellopoetry Malawi needs hellopoetry Malaysia needs hellopoetry Maldives needs hellopoetry Mali needs hellopoetry Malta needs hellopoetry Marshall Islands needs hellopoetry Mauritania needs hellopoetry Mauritius needs hellopoetry Mexico needs hellopoetry Micronesia, Federated States is in need of hellopoetry Moldova needs hellopoetry Monaco needs hellopoetry Mongolia needs hellopoetry Montenegro needs hellopoetry Morocco needs hellopoetry Mozambique needs hellopoetry Myanmar (Burma) needs hellopoetry Namibia needs hellopoetry Nauru needs hellopoetry Nepal needs hellopoetry Netherlands needs hellopoetry New Zealand needs hellopoetry Nicaragua needs hellopoetry Niger needs hellopoetry Nigeria needs hellopoetry North Macedonia needs hellopoetry Norway needs hellopoetry Oman needs hellopoetry Pakistan needs hellopoetry Palau needs hellopoetry Panama needs hellopoetry Papua New Guinea needs hellopoetry Paraguay needs hellopoetry Peru needs hellopoetry Philippines needs hellopoetry Poland needs hellopoetry Portugal needs hellopoetry Qatar needs hellopoetry Romania needs hellopoetry Russia needs hellopoetry Rwanda needs hellopoetry Saint Kitts and Nevis needs hellopoetry Saint Lucia needs hellopoetry Saint Vincent and the Grenadines needs hellopoetry Samoa needs hellopoetry San Marino needs hellopoetry Sao Tome and Principe needs hellopoetry Saudi Arabia needs hellopoetry Senegal needs hellopoetry Serbia needs hellopoetry Seychelles needs hellopoetry Sierra Leone needs hellopoetry Singapore needs hellopoetry Slovakia needs hellopoetry Slovenia needs hellopoetry Solomon Islands needs hellopoetry Somalia needs hellopoetry South Africa needs hellopoetry Spain needs hellopoetry Sri Lanka needs hellopoetry Sudan needs hellopoetry Sudan, South needs hellopoetry Suriname needs hellopoetry Sweden needs hellopoetry Switzerland needs hellopoetry Syria needs hellopoetry Taiwan needs hellopoetry Tajikistan needs hellopoetry Tanzania needs hellopoetry Thailand needs hellopoetry Togo needs hellopoetry Tonga needs hellopoetry Trinidad and Tobago needs hellopoetry Tunisia needs hellopoetry Turkey needs hellopoetry Turkmenistan needs hellopoetry Tuvalu needs hellopoetry Uganda needs hellopoetry Ukraine needs hellopoetry United Arab Emirates needs hellopoetry United Kingdom needs hellopoetry United States needs hellopoetry Uruguay needs hellopoetry Uzbekistan needs hellopoetry Vanuatu needs hellopoetry Vatican City needs hellopoetry Venezuela needs hellopoetry Vietnam needs hellopoetry Yemen needs hellopoetry Zambia needs hellopoetry Zimbabwe needs hellopoetry
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196
I pull open the door And hunt for food in the dim orange light. "There's nothing inside" Well, actually, There is something: Months old cream cheeses precariously stacked atop each other, Several mysterious bottles of brown sauces, Dried out leafy vegetables, But nothing This lazy *** can eat without preparing. I push close the door, Leaving my stomach rumbling and empty, But filling my mind with Dreams Three-fourths of the dull gray door is covered With colorful ceramic magnets From my dad’s corporate adventures To Batangas, Bohol, Bacolod, Davao, Hong Kong, Singapore, Malaysia, Macau, Nepal, Vietnam, Sri Lanka, China, Dubai, Pakistan, Saudi Arabia Sudan, Egypt, Ethiopia, Canada, Greece, and Australia. I examine each magnet’s contour and shine, Letting its foreign dust seep into my fingers. I dream that soon I will return all those dusts to their lands And bring home more magnets of my own.
0
Dec 28, 2013
Dec 28, 2013 at 9:50 AM UTC
marge-redelicia
Refrigerator
I pull open the door And hunt for food in the dim orange light. "There's nothing inside" Well, actually, There is something: Months old cream cheeses precariously stacked atop each other, Several mysterious bottles of brown sauces, Dried out leafy vegetables, But nothing This lazy *** can eat without preparing. I push close the door, Leaving my stomach rumbling and empty, But filling my mind with Dreams Three-fourths of the dull gray door is covered With colorful ceramic magnets From my dad’s corporate adventures To Batangas, Bohol, Bacolod, Davao, Hong Kong, Singapore, Malaysia, Macau, Nepal, Vietnam, Sri Lanka, China, Dubai, Pakistan, Saudi Arabia Sudan, Egypt, Ethiopia, Canada, Greece, and Australia. I examine each magnet’s contour and shine, Letting its foreign dust seep into my fingers. I dream that soon I will return all those dusts to their lands And bring home more magnets of my own.
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28
Lifeless stones in peace, How many more tears to fall? The mountain shudders.
0
Apr 27, 2015
Apr 27, 2015 at 4:49 PM UTC
mv-blake
Haiku - Nepal
Lifeless stones in peace, How many more tears to fall? The mountain shudders.
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3
It shakes. Lives are lost. Cultural history is all in rubbles. It shakes. There's nowhere to run. It shakes. Leaves our minds and bodies shaking in fear. Hope this passes soon. Pray for Nepal.
0
Apr 26, 2015
Apr 26, 2015 at 1:14 AM UTC
soundofrain
Earthquake in Nepal
It shakes. Lives are lost. Cultural history is all in rubbles. It shakes. There's nowhere to run. It shakes. Leaves our minds and bodies shaking in fear. Hope this passes soon. Pray for Nepal.
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5
She sat by me, in her skirt, hand grenade green, And an off-white blouse obscured by a jacket with dust in its seams, Like leather, like elderly skin, like a crossword puzzle with half the letters filled in, She sat by me and spilt her sentences and her tea: She claimed her husband had been killed by a cabal of spiritualists, Killed by a bull elephant in the streets of Nepal, Killed by the seven plagues, And never killed at all, That he was once a number Somehow both perfect and prime, That he was Prime minister of the sea, And independent of time, That his bones were cracked marbles Bought from a widow in Tennessee, That his name continued to escape her, But that he looked something like me, Leaving I saw her wings drag her heavenward, I saw her terrible wings, As I stumbled and veered from concrete to tarmac I heard the pavements start to sing: “I was once a flowerbed, My father was a field, My mother was a source of light, Before which all the people kneeled.” Then lost in the eye of daytime and night, Drawn to the moustache of a Spanish racketeer, He was once abandoned by his books and his babies In the boot of a broke-down cavalier, His pasts and ideas caught up to him, And gripped him by his belt and his teeth, His pasts gripped him in quiet of his nightmares, And slashed his arms in the street, Visions shook me by the bleeding palm, Her terrible wings now pinpricks for the moon, Visions shook me as deities died, With eyes like a card-trick and fingers like doom, Then stuck in the endless space between words; She sat by me, in her skirt, hand grenade green; Stuck in the endless space between words; And an off white blouse obscured by a jacket with dust in its seams...
0
Mar 11, 2018
Mar 11, 2018 at 9:11 PM UTC
attheharbour
Pinpricks for the Moon
She sat by me, in her skirt, hand grenade green, And an off-white blouse obscured by a jacket with dust in its seams, Like leather, like elderly skin, like a crossword puzzle with half the letters filled in, She sat by me and spilt her sentences and her tea: She claimed her husband had been killed by a cabal of spiritualists, Killed by a bull elephant in the streets of Nepal, Killed by the seven plagues, And never killed at all, That he was once a number Somehow both perfect and prime, That he was Prime minister of the sea, And independent of time, That his bones were cracked marbles Bought from a widow in Tennessee, That his name continued to escape her, But that he looked something like me, Leaving I saw her wings drag her heavenward, I saw her terrible wings, As I stumbled and veered from concrete to tarmac I heard the pavements start to sing: “I was once a flowerbed, My father was a field, My mother was a source of light, Before which all the people kneeled.” Then lost in the eye of daytime and night, Drawn to the moustache of a Spanish racketeer, He was once abandoned by his books and his babies In the boot of a broke-down cavalier, His pasts and ideas caught up to him, And gripped him by his belt and his teeth, His pasts gripped him in quiet of his nightmares, And slashed his arms in the street, Visions shook me by the bleeding palm, Her terrible wings now pinpricks for the moon, Visions shook me as deities died, With eyes like a card-trick and fingers like doom, Then stuck in the endless space between words; She sat by me, in her skirt, hand grenade green; Stuck in the endless space between words; And an off white blouse obscured by a jacket with dust in its seams...
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40
*she just shakes her head she meets me on the street-corner, me from work, she from dance, in the grayling dusk of a thank god it’s a freedom Friday night, I greet her with words semi-adventurous - “come with me, few errands to run, keep me in good company” to the candy store we go for to purchase my weekend eve lottery tickets and blow-pop lollipops, just in case some kids appear, a surprise omen as they come trick-or-treating just before Thanksgiving the Bangladeshi candyman calls out a long prayer in his native Bangla she asks “what’s that he’s saying?” “Oh, just wishing us a pleasant Sabbath and may his gods smile upon our good lottery fortune” she just shakes her head, from side to side emerging from the store, walking home in the now doubly ***** darkly dusk, a set of white teeth from a passing shadow-man says to me “you’re home late and have a great weekend,” she asks, “who is that?” “why,” I reply, “that is our very own personal postal carrier’ she says: “he delivers mail to ten thousand people all in buildings tall, yet knows your name, your face, where you buy your lottery tickets, your coming and going hours, how came that to be” but waits not for an answer she just shakes her head, from side to side I show her my secret entrance to our apartment house, the fast route to collect our mail, dry cleaning in one fell swoop a secret door, secret elevator taking us directly to our apartment a secret elevator which is under the direction of Bimal from Nepal, who I greet in Nepalese, (my tutor) I, asking after Brian and Bryce, his 100% American boys now she says nothing, but before our door, as I go key digging, she just shakes her head, from side to side later she says: “let’s order in, apprise me of  your expertise, some exotic fare from Manhattans First Avenue, known for its aphrodisiacal powers afterwards, you must tell me each dishes name, in its tongue’s nativity, but much, much later,” and as she speaks, grinning, she sticks out her tongue, while she just shakes her head, but this time, up and down
0
Nov 18, 2017
Nov 18, 2017 at 10:07 AM UTC
lmnsinner
she just shakes her head
*she just shakes her head she meets me on the street-corner, me from work, she from dance, in the grayling dusk of a thank god it’s a freedom Friday night, I greet her with words semi-adventurous - “come with me, few errands to run, keep me in good company” to the candy store we go for to purchase my weekend eve lottery tickets and blow-pop lollipops, just in case some kids appear, a surprise omen as they come trick-or-treating just before Thanksgiving the Bangladeshi candyman calls out a long prayer in his native Bangla she asks “what’s that he’s saying?” “Oh, just wishing us a pleasant Sabbath and may his gods smile upon our good lottery fortune” she just shakes her head, from side to side emerging from the store, walking home in the now doubly ***** darkly dusk, a set of white teeth from a passing shadow-man says to me “you’re home late and have a great weekend,” she asks, “who is that?” “why,” I reply, “that is our very own personal postal carrier’ she says: “he delivers mail to ten thousand people all in buildings tall, yet knows your name, your face, where you buy your lottery tickets, your coming and going hours, how came that to be” but waits not for an answer she just shakes her head, from side to side I show her my secret entrance to our apartment house, the fast route to collect our mail, dry cleaning in one fell swoop a secret door, secret elevator taking us directly to our apartment a secret elevator which is under the direction of Bimal from Nepal, who I greet in Nepalese, (my tutor) I, asking after Brian and Bryce, his 100% American boys now she says nothing, but before our door, as I go key digging, she just shakes her head, from side to side later she says: “let’s order in, apprise me of  your expertise, some exotic fare from Manhattans First Avenue, known for its aphrodisiacal powers afterwards, you must tell me each dishes name, in its tongue’s nativity, but much, much later,” and as she speaks, grinning, she sticks out her tongue, while she just shakes her head, but this time, up and down
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53
Today I have adopted a new Dream Occupation: No longer a Buddhist Monk On a Mountain Peak in Nepal but Henry Miller, I will Be And shall dance the Worlds Circumference With no brain in skull but a pen in between crooked-only-on-the-right teeth Mark my words today in pencil please So tomorrow I will have a reminder and in a fortnight I will have an eraser; Henry Miller never Wrote drafts in ink
0
Sep 25, 2013
Sep 25, 2013 at 12:34 PM UTC
samantha-18
...
Today I have adopted a new Dream Occupation: No longer a Buddhist Monk On a Mountain Peak in Nepal but Henry Miller, I will Be And shall dance the Worlds Circumference With no brain in skull but a pen in between crooked-only-on-the-right teeth Mark my words today in pencil please So tomorrow I will have a reminder and in a fortnight I will have an eraser; Henry Miller never Wrote drafts in ink
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16
The burning cigarette and a cup of coffee My companions again Gloomy day Loud traffic Not a single pretty girl in sight Kathmandu afternoon at its finest Nothing to do but smoke a joint And write this poem My attempt at creativity With a mind under influence Thoughts running wild I could start a religion But I'll just sleep instead. (Kathmandu, Nepal 9/1/2013)
0
Sep 1, 2013
Sep 1, 2013 at 7:32 AM UTC
sprishya
Gloomy Day
The burning cigarette and a cup of coffee My companions again Gloomy day Loud traffic Not a single pretty girl in sight Kathmandu afternoon at its finest Nothing to do but smoke a joint And write this poem My attempt at creativity With a mind under influence Thoughts running wild I could start a religion But I'll just sleep instead. (Kathmandu, Nepal 9/1/2013)
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14
~~¤~~ I heard your cry Oh, Paris From the hundred of bodies that fell on your ground I heard the sobbing of your neighbors I saw the tears of all the eyes watching you You were trying to  move on from the tragic Charlie Hebdo Attack But here you are again- Broken and bruised And my heart is breaking My tears are rolling down my face As I utter  a thousand why's But... I still hear the weeping from afar- Palestine and Syria are still mourning for the death of their children, India Heat Wave that killed more than two thousand, The hundreds of migrants killed in sinking ship in the Mediterranean Sea, The TransAsia Airways Flight 235 Crash in Taiwan, The Germanwings Flight 9525 Crash into the French Alps, The Earthquake in Nepal, The Amtrak Train Derail in Philadelphia, The Warehouse Explosion that killed a hundred in China, The Reporter and Cameraman Killed live on TV, The Refugee crisis, The Hajj Pilgrimage Tragedy near Mecca The series of calamities and tragedies in different parts of my dear Philippines- The families of thousands of dead people are still in agony These tragedies around the world Gave those places the deepest cuts upon the bellies of the mothers Wounds that connect to the hearts And create scars that might be fresh until now The world is in pain And here are my tears again I am praying for the world Can we listen to those cries and open our hearts? Let us  pray for you,  dear Paris And for other places wich are still in misery Let us pray for the world. ~~¤~~
0
Nov 15, 2015
Nov 15, 2015 at 6:18 AM UTC
Marguerite
Pray for the World
~~¤~~ I heard your cry Oh, Paris From the hundred of bodies that fell on your ground I heard the sobbing of your neighbors I saw the tears of all the eyes watching you You were trying to  move on from the tragic Charlie Hebdo Attack But here you are again- Broken and bruised And my heart is breaking My tears are rolling down my face As I utter  a thousand why's But... I still hear the weeping from afar- Palestine and Syria are still mourning for the death of their children, India Heat Wave that killed more than two thousand, The hundreds of migrants killed in sinking ship in the Mediterranean Sea, The TransAsia Airways Flight 235 Crash in Taiwan, The Germanwings Flight 9525 Crash into the French Alps, The Earthquake in Nepal, The Amtrak Train Derail in Philadelphia, The Warehouse Explosion that killed a hundred in China, The Reporter and Cameraman Killed live on TV, The Refugee crisis, The Hajj Pilgrimage Tragedy near Mecca The series of calamities and tragedies in different parts of my dear Philippines- The families of thousands of dead people are still in agony These tragedies around the world Gave those places the deepest cuts upon the bellies of the mothers Wounds that connect to the hearts And create scars that might be fresh until now The world is in pain And here are my tears again I am praying for the world Can we listen to those cries and open our hearts? Let us  pray for you,  dear Paris And for other places wich are still in misery Let us pray for the world. ~~¤~~
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38
My red wagon, in my youth, Kept things some thought quite uncouth, Like fishing line, crawdad bait, A model boat, old door plate, Copper rupees from Nepal, Ancient skull, an old softball, And I still wish I had them all, Those fine treasures of my youth. Though years have past since that day, I, again, still lug that dray, But I often can recall, All the stuff I used to haul. Though no longer filled with junk; I don't use it like a trunk. This lesson I didn't flunk. It's filled with my kids at play.
0
Feb 17, 2013
Feb 17, 2013 at 9:04 AM UTC
wordwerks
My Red Wagon
My red wagon, in my youth, Kept things some thought quite uncouth, Like fishing line, crawdad bait, A model boat, old door plate, Copper rupees from Nepal, Ancient skull, an old softball, And I still wish I had them all, Those fine treasures of my youth. Though years have past since that day, I, again, still lug that dray, But I often can recall, All the stuff I used to haul. Though no longer filled with junk; I don't use it like a trunk. This lesson I didn't flunk. It's filled with my kids at play.
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16
*je pense bien à toi (i think well of you) Have not chatted in awhile, me rutted in NYC, a city of constant tear down and sometimes flashy urban human renewal... While you, you getting on with life, growing up, growing down, buying clothes for a new school season, or growing children, or boxing up now grandchildren memories of memories... falling in love, writing poetry all about it... You, in Nepal, Malaysia, India, Seattle, Portland, and the Florida's panhandle, the US Midwest sainted hinterlands, the South, that makes one love water, water that has travelled from the faraway, island continent of professorial Australia, Did I forget the Philippines? worse sin committed, is that in your poetry I have not toe dipped, quite the long erstwhile, after loving it with obsession devotion... so just a Saturday afternoon note penned just to you and you alone... je pense bien à toi (i think well of you) So by way of apology, craft a poem for you exclusive, more than each word, letter, every syllable, tongue tasted for conjuctivity, breadth and thus discovered notes of red soil, raspberry, lemon, even a hint of sweet masquerading as a salty kindness in our veins, our unique vintage of connectivity Your hand to my lips raised, grasped twice, by mine both, slow lifting with stature, affection and respect, kiss it and whisper just enough for we two to hear... je pense bien à toi (i think well of you) even this seems weakly insufficient, but care taken nowadays, a new economy of words, write less, think more, and give up the truly deserved words only as a mark of my fondness and respect these come on no schedule, often months in the making, so forgive-me-not my unsweetened silences, accept them with easy knowing that je pense bien à toi (i think well of you) the summer man wintered in discontent, his journey now disrupted by forces exogenous, stealing his vision, jailing him in between walls of indecision, knocking down his own twin towers, but carelessly not making provision to tell you well and often enough je pense bien à toi (i think well of you)* Sept. 13, 2014
0
Sep 13, 2014
Sep 13, 2014 at 3:10 PM UTC
nat-lipstadt
je pense bien à toi (i think well of you)
*je pense bien à toi (i think well of you) Have not chatted in awhile, me rutted in NYC, a city of constant tear down and sometimes flashy urban human renewal... While you, you getting on with life, growing up, growing down, buying clothes for a new school season, or growing children, or boxing up now grandchildren memories of memories... falling in love, writing poetry all about it... You, in Nepal, Malaysia, India, Seattle, Portland, and the Florida's panhandle, the US Midwest sainted hinterlands, the South, that makes one love water, water that has travelled from the faraway, island continent of professorial Australia, Did I forget the Philippines? worse sin committed, is that in your poetry I have not toe dipped, quite the long erstwhile, after loving it with obsession devotion... so just a Saturday afternoon note penned just to you and you alone... je pense bien à toi (i think well of you) So by way of apology, craft a poem for you exclusive, more than each word, letter, every syllable, tongue tasted for conjuctivity, breadth and thus discovered notes of red soil, raspberry, lemon, even a hint of sweet masquerading as a salty kindness in our veins, our unique vintage of connectivity Your hand to my lips raised, grasped twice, by mine both, slow lifting with stature, affection and respect, kiss it and whisper just enough for we two to hear... je pense bien à toi (i think well of you) even this seems weakly insufficient, but care taken nowadays, a new economy of words, write less, think more, and give up the truly deserved words only as a mark of my fondness and respect these come on no schedule, often months in the making, so forgive-me-not my unsweetened silences, accept them with easy knowing that je pense bien à toi (i think well of you) the summer man wintered in discontent, his journey now disrupted by forces exogenous, stealing his vision, jailing him in between walls of indecision, knocking down his own twin towers, but carelessly not making provision to tell you well and often enough je pense bien à toi (i think well of you)* Sept. 13, 2014
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73
**In the shadow of Everest people are dying Crushed in a chaos embirthed from beneath, Emerged as destructor of temple and Taos, Emerged as an innocent killer... bequeathed. History crumbles as heavens roar mightily Ghorka is dead in an avalanche of rock, Beggars and potentates crushed  in the brickfall Dharahara’s fall leaves men gaping in shock. Shuddering mountains in avalanche of free fall Wails of the stricken as quaking defiles, Gold topped pagodas and statue of ancients, Sculpture of lions now a rubble in piles. Khathmandu in the clasp of calamity Nightmarish forces arisen from deep, Grasping the earth in their grip of profanity Monstrously tearing the bedrock from sleep. A techtonic ****** of Asia by India Nepal’s Himalayas ****** to the sky, Inconsequential, this plight of humanity Nature proceeds as poor Nepalese die.** M. ANZAC Day 25 April 2015
0
Apr 26, 2015
Apr 26, 2015 at 5:45 PM UTC
marshal-gebbie
In the Shadow of Everest
**In the shadow of Everest people are dying Crushed in a chaos embirthed from beneath, Emerged as destructor of temple and Taos, Emerged as an innocent killer... bequeathed. History crumbles as heavens roar mightily Ghorka is dead in an avalanche of rock, Beggars and potentates crushed  in the brickfall Dharahara’s fall leaves men gaping in shock. Shuddering mountains in avalanche of free fall Wails of the stricken as quaking defiles, Gold topped pagodas and statue of ancients, Sculpture of lions now a rubble in piles. Khathmandu in the clasp of calamity Nightmarish forces arisen from deep, Grasping the earth in their grip of profanity Monstrously tearing the bedrock from sleep. A techtonic ****** of Asia by India Nepal’s Himalayas ****** to the sky, Inconsequential, this plight of humanity Nature proceeds as poor Nepalese die.** M. ANZAC Day 25 April 2015
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22
The nuns did not have much But they valued all And truer, fuller days filled with chores Passed the sun-moon-suns Some nights the mountains Were cold, so they gave her hot coals Their bodies thin and fragile, impossibly resilient Winter; cup of animal fat Thirteen years, cooking for twenty peers In lessons learned foreign tongue From her alien education, taught too She passed her blue-star-blues Painting sweetened hues The elevation and scene in dripping sweeps of brush Nepal became even more Beautiful on paper And behind thoughtful eyes A tourist hands a wood carver Several years salary, is this Enough? Masterpiece etched given free petty possessions Empty handed back to hungry mouths Fulfilled and satisfied At night the unpolluted bright Reflected off the lake; God smile Rocky range round in isolation The wind, for once Whispered truth She inhaled the honesty, and reunited art With canvas The Earth shook, no one else felt it But she knew And happy filled a forgotten face In wise silence
0
Aug 22, 2012
Aug 22, 2012 at 11:29 PM UTC
ERRPoetry
152. Nepal 8/22/12
The nuns did not have much But they valued all And truer, fuller days filled with chores Passed the sun-moon-suns Some nights the mountains Were cold, so they gave her hot coals Their bodies thin and fragile, impossibly resilient Winter; cup of animal fat Thirteen years, cooking for twenty peers In lessons learned foreign tongue From her alien education, taught too She passed her blue-star-blues Painting sweetened hues The elevation and scene in dripping sweeps of brush Nepal became even more Beautiful on paper And behind thoughtful eyes A tourist hands a wood carver Several years salary, is this Enough? Masterpiece etched given free petty possessions Empty handed back to hungry mouths Fulfilled and satisfied At night the unpolluted bright Reflected off the lake; God smile Rocky range round in isolation The wind, for once Whispered truth She inhaled the honesty, and reunited art With canvas The Earth shook, no one else felt it But she knew And happy filled a forgotten face In wise silence
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34
Motion makes me homesick, home makes me motion-sick. I've seen some **** you wouldn't believe in the past month of my young life I'm happy. Makes me want more. I want Guatemala I want Nepal I want the States by trains and motorcycles. I want to make something tall enough to shake hands with god and strong enough to last to the ends of the earth Or longer. I want to give the world back all I've taken from it and all the damage I've done. And then I want to do more. I want to start a revolution, live on a farm, paint a mural, play a symphony, shake hands with the Dalai Lama, write a book, and be home in time for dinner. I want to fold a thousand and one oragami cranes and set them free from space and while they float down to Mauritania and Portugal, to Argentina and Cambodia I want to wish for a reset button. Not to use right away, but just in case **** gets out of hand. So we've got a backup plan. I want to sit in my old age looking down that darkened tunnel and see my own birth pass before my eyes. I want to embrace infinity without soreness or shortcomings, without excuses or refusals I want to watch the universe collapse back in on itself and be part of everything at once. I want more than I can handle. I guess that means I'm young.
0
Oct 24, 2013
Oct 24, 2013 at 1:28 AM UTC
j-c-lucas
Young
Motion makes me homesick, home makes me motion-sick. I've seen some **** you wouldn't believe in the past month of my young life I'm happy. Makes me want more. I want Guatemala I want Nepal I want the States by trains and motorcycles. I want to make something tall enough to shake hands with god and strong enough to last to the ends of the earth Or longer. I want to give the world back all I've taken from it and all the damage I've done. And then I want to do more. I want to start a revolution, live on a farm, paint a mural, play a symphony, shake hands with the Dalai Lama, write a book, and be home in time for dinner. I want to fold a thousand and one oragami cranes and set them free from space and while they float down to Mauritania and Portugal, to Argentina and Cambodia I want to wish for a reset button. Not to use right away, but just in case **** gets out of hand. So we've got a backup plan. I want to sit in my old age looking down that darkened tunnel and see my own birth pass before my eyes. I want to embrace infinity without soreness or shortcomings, without excuses or refusals I want to watch the universe collapse back in on itself and be part of everything at once. I want more than I can handle. I guess that means I'm young.
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28
You are not beaten Your strength isn't broken Your heart keeps beating Have faith When your ears start to get numb By the sound of a thousand cries And your knees can't lift you up Look up A glimpse of hope there is When mountains fall around you And the grounds below cut open Nothing will shake your courage Nothing will This is something to remind you When the earth forgets your name At the roundabout of time Look up Behind the clouds where The sun shines brightest Streams of dreams endure   At the top of the mountains iamthe_avatar ©2015
0
May 18, 2015
May 18, 2015 at 4:31 AM UTC
iamtheavatar
Nepal
You are not beaten Your strength isn't broken Your heart keeps beating Have faith When your ears start to get numb By the sound of a thousand cries And your knees can't lift you up Look up A glimpse of hope there is When mountains fall around you And the grounds below cut open Nothing will shake your courage Nothing will This is something to remind you When the earth forgets your name At the roundabout of time Look up Behind the clouds where The sun shines brightest Streams of dreams endure   At the top of the mountains iamthe_avatar ©2015
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22
Purifying bath Katmandu Nepal Yes come to these purifying waters join these ladies it will not perform the greater spiritual cleansing But it provides a picture of glory with her lying on her back she is just slightly submerged in this grey Clear water her face is beaming her shoulders are bare her hair flows around her neck on one side one Arm is freely laid over her chest the other extends upward as a friend holds her by the wrist we all know The bliss that water enriches us with her brown skin is truly purified and her personnel glory again Beams with such peace soon the elements will converge to change her thoughts and feelings but they Will not touch the conciseness that was altered in the river Baghmati during Reshi Panchmi a purifying And Atonement day for women they bare extra burdens in foreign lands how great to see them Experience such joy countless burdens are washed away at least momentarily water the friend and Blessed comfort to matrons it provides one of the most picture perfect sights of a soul in repose you lie Without care a dear friend holds you by the wrist they bottled water if only they could capture this Special reality and provide it on demand there is nothing stopping anyone from acting this out it would Change your day your whole perspective it would truly reenergize body and soul I thought I would just Share a place in time a rite that provides concepts that ever so briefly will take you out of time fill you With rapture make you devoid of care allow you to play in the courts of the extravagantly rich with out Price or responsibility they say nothing is free it doesn’t get any more free or freeing than this I guess it Cost nature the clouds way up in the Himalayas release the moist weight it falls as abundant rain the River swells and flows gravity pulls it down to the lower valley and when you enter you luxuriate in Water’s gift tell the tale Katmandu alone is renown but it has even greater layers of reward than the normal expectations hope you enjoyed a refreshing
0
Sep 21, 2012
Sep 21, 2012 at 6:41 PM UTC
hal-loyd-denton
Purifying bath Katmandu Nepal
Purifying bath Katmandu Nepal Yes come to these purifying waters join these ladies it will not perform the greater spiritual cleansing But it provides a picture of glory with her lying on her back she is just slightly submerged in this grey Clear water her face is beaming her shoulders are bare her hair flows around her neck on one side one Arm is freely laid over her chest the other extends upward as a friend holds her by the wrist we all know The bliss that water enriches us with her brown skin is truly purified and her personnel glory again Beams with such peace soon the elements will converge to change her thoughts and feelings but they Will not touch the conciseness that was altered in the river Baghmati during Reshi Panchmi a purifying And Atonement day for women they bare extra burdens in foreign lands how great to see them Experience such joy countless burdens are washed away at least momentarily water the friend and Blessed comfort to matrons it provides one of the most picture perfect sights of a soul in repose you lie Without care a dear friend holds you by the wrist they bottled water if only they could capture this Special reality and provide it on demand there is nothing stopping anyone from acting this out it would Change your day your whole perspective it would truly reenergize body and soul I thought I would just Share a place in time a rite that provides concepts that ever so briefly will take you out of time fill you With rapture make you devoid of care allow you to play in the courts of the extravagantly rich with out Price or responsibility they say nothing is free it doesn’t get any more free or freeing than this I guess it Cost nature the clouds way up in the Himalayas release the moist weight it falls as abundant rain the River swells and flows gravity pulls it down to the lower valley and when you enter you luxuriate in Water’s gift tell the tale Katmandu alone is renown but it has even greater layers of reward than the normal expectations hope you enjoyed a refreshing
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21
Kathmandu a quaint, romantic name, had wanted to go there now it is a dream. Nepal, this small mountain country often used a golf ball between big countries for purely selfish reasons. Thousands of people killed and classical palaces are reduced dust covering mountain tops as a fog of sadness Cry my lovely I can only offer you friendship. But for the tourists who evacuated on Himalayas’ sacred top. Filling valleys with empty cans of beef and toilet paper flapping in the wind, I have little empathy rich tourists that had to bestride and befoul a holy mountain.
0
May 22, 2015
May 22, 2015 at 4:00 AM UTC
jan-oskar-hansen
Nepal
Kathmandu a quaint, romantic name, had wanted to go there now it is a dream. Nepal, this small mountain country often used a golf ball between big countries for purely selfish reasons. Thousands of people killed and classical palaces are reduced dust covering mountain tops as a fog of sadness Cry my lovely I can only offer you friendship. But for the tourists who evacuated on Himalayas’ sacred top. Filling valleys with empty cans of beef and toilet paper flapping in the wind, I have little empathy rich tourists that had to bestride and befoul a holy mountain.
Continue reading...
18
Purifying bath Katmandu Nepal Yes come to these purifying waters join these ladies it will not perform the greater spiritual cleansing But it provides a picture of glory with her lying on her back she is just slightly submerged in this grey Clear water her face is beaming her shoulders are bare her hair flows around her neck on one side one Arm is freely laid over her chest the other extends upward as a friend holds her by the wrist we all know The bliss that water enriches us with her brown skin is truly purified and her personnel glory again Beams with such peace soon the elements will converge to change her thoughts and feelings but they Will not touch the conciseness that was altered in the river Baghmati during Reshi Panchmi a purifying And Atonement day for women they bare extra burdens in foreign lands how great to see them Experience such joy countless burdens are washed away at least momentarily water the friend and Blessed comfort to matrons it provides one of the most picture perfect sights of a soul in repose you lie Without care a dear friend holds you by the wrist they bottled water if only they could capture this Special reality and provide it on demand there is nothing stopping anyone from acting this out it would Change your day your whole perspective it would truly reenergize body and soul I thought I would just Share a place in time a rite that provides concepts that ever so briefly will take you out of time fill you With rapture make you devoid of care allow you to play in the courts of the extravagantly rich with out Price or responsibility they say nothing is free it doesn’t get any more free or freeing than this I guess it Cost nature the clouds way up in the Himalayas release the moist weight it falls as abundant rain the River swells and flows gravity pulls it down to the lower valley and when you enter you luxuriate in Water’s gift tell the tale Katmandu alone is renown but it has even greater layers of reward than the normal expectations hope you enjoyed a refreshing
0
Sep 21, 2012
Sep 21, 2012 at 6:41 PM UTC
hal-loyd-denton
Purifying bath Katmandu Nepal
Purifying bath Katmandu Nepal Yes come to these purifying waters join these ladies it will not perform the greater spiritual cleansing But it provides a picture of glory with her lying on her back she is just slightly submerged in this grey Clear water her face is beaming her shoulders are bare her hair flows around her neck on one side one Arm is freely laid over her chest the other extends upward as a friend holds her by the wrist we all know The bliss that water enriches us with her brown skin is truly purified and her personnel glory again Beams with such peace soon the elements will converge to change her thoughts and feelings but they Will not touch the conciseness that was altered in the river Baghmati during Reshi Panchmi a purifying And Atonement day for women they bare extra burdens in foreign lands how great to see them Experience such joy countless burdens are washed away at least momentarily water the friend and Blessed comfort to matrons it provides one of the most picture perfect sights of a soul in repose you lie Without care a dear friend holds you by the wrist they bottled water if only they could capture this Special reality and provide it on demand there is nothing stopping anyone from acting this out it would Change your day your whole perspective it would truly reenergize body and soul I thought I would just Share a place in time a rite that provides concepts that ever so briefly will take you out of time fill you With rapture make you devoid of care allow you to play in the courts of the extravagantly rich with out Price or responsibility they say nothing is free it doesn’t get any more free or freeing than this I guess it Cost nature the clouds way up in the Himalayas release the moist weight it falls as abundant rain the River swells and flows gravity pulls it down to the lower valley and when you enter you luxuriate in Water’s gift tell the tale Katmandu alone is renown but it has even greater layers of reward than the normal expectations hope you enjoyed a refreshing
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21
I rose, I saw and I saw the flaw of what i left my countrymen in But I decided to rise Despite my demise thinking i was dead but not fallen But little had i know that my bloodline would be cast away and all my subjects go astray Like the ash-dust in my silver ash tray they lay contaminated as i blow the smoke is ceaseless, as it burns in the eyes of my subjects But their conscience rejects As my Royal Stature fell to my weak heart i had which i gave away 'till it went stale and wounds were deeper to stitch after years of my departure But in this rupture of my throne and of the crown It's not my palace or town, that is in debris It is my kingdom
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Sep 10, 2013
Sep 10, 2013 at 12:45 AM UTC
baskothewise
Mahendra of Nepal
I rose, I saw and I saw the flaw of what i left my countrymen in But I decided to rise Despite my demise thinking i was dead but not fallen But little had i know that my bloodline would be cast away and all my subjects go astray Like the ash-dust in my silver ash tray they lay contaminated as i blow the smoke is ceaseless, as it burns in the eyes of my subjects But their conscience rejects As my Royal Stature fell to my weak heart i had which i gave away 'till it went stale and wounds were deeper to stitch after years of my departure But in this rupture of my throne and of the crown It's not my palace or town, that is in debris It is my kingdom
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25
Nepal The fourth poorest country The Gurkah Welfare Trust Installs fountains in the mountains To help the poor Nepalese people The water near the village is contaminated So they had to walk 8 miles to fetch clean water Thanks to the Gurkah welfare trust There are fountains that provide clean water "It is better to die than to be a coward" That is the motto of the Gurkah fighter After one year in the British Army The Gurkahs put on a stone of muscle in weight Why do the Gurkahs agree to die for the British crown? It's simple The Gurkah says, "We've eaten your rations, we've eaten your salt. The obligation is binding."
0
Mar 1, 2015
Mar 1, 2015 at 6:00 PM UTC
MattG
Proud And Fierce Gurkha Warriors
Nepal The fourth poorest country The Gurkah Welfare Trust Installs fountains in the mountains To help the poor Nepalese people The water near the village is contaminated So they had to walk 8 miles to fetch clean water Thanks to the Gurkah welfare trust There are fountains that provide clean water "It is better to die than to be a coward" That is the motto of the Gurkah fighter After one year in the British Army The Gurkahs put on a stone of muscle in weight Why do the Gurkahs agree to die for the British crown? It's simple The Gurkah says, "We've eaten your rations, we've eaten your salt. The obligation is binding."
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17
Lining up batteries of anti-aircraft anti-everything all anti- something this and that distribution centre for psychological pressure backed by radio, TV presidents staring straight newspapers, journals and dialogues around flash round tables on the whys how’s and who’s sneaky microphone hidden in flower pots, long distance listening devices. Telephones tapped wives tapped, senior diplomats and doormats tapped wives tapped on shoulders whispered to: watch out for Joe blogs he has a roving eye. see me tonight, after dinner. The russians have warship A into Zone B the chinese have shifted anti-missile up the mountains near tibet, near nepal near taiwan, near  the hormuz straits into africa, zimbabwe, fiji, and northern china who cares. Tomorrow they will shift out again. the pressure is building in the ukraine, turkey is on fire The north koreans have no power as seen from satelllites The president has run of tomato sauce so he has asked for a shipload from us of a ship it with some spies dressed as tomatoes god its killing me these acupuncture points three more needles please! Author Notes Relentless. ( an wacky I s'pose). Think about it all. © Marshall Gass. All rights reserved.
0
Apr 1, 2014
Apr 1, 2014 at 4:20 PM UTC
marshall-gass
Power Posture
Lining up batteries of anti-aircraft anti-everything all anti- something this and that distribution centre for psychological pressure backed by radio, TV presidents staring straight newspapers, journals and dialogues around flash round tables on the whys how’s and who’s sneaky microphone hidden in flower pots, long distance listening devices. Telephones tapped wives tapped, senior diplomats and doormats tapped wives tapped on shoulders whispered to: watch out for Joe blogs he has a roving eye. see me tonight, after dinner. The russians have warship A into Zone B the chinese have shifted anti-missile up the mountains near tibet, near nepal near taiwan, near  the hormuz straits into africa, zimbabwe, fiji, and northern china who cares. Tomorrow they will shift out again. the pressure is building in the ukraine, turkey is on fire The north koreans have no power as seen from satelllites The president has run of tomato sauce so he has asked for a shipload from us of a ship it with some spies dressed as tomatoes god its killing me these acupuncture points three more needles please! Author Notes Relentless. ( an wacky I s'pose). Think about it all. © Marshall Gass. All rights reserved.
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30
it's 8:00 somewhere in Washington D.C. and the global selection committee has made its picks: for the 473rd time all the number one seeds are filled by countries that break the most rims and shatter the most glass. here we have the U.S of the North American region taking on Haiti, cos the poorest countries always place no higher than 14. China of the Asia region has drawn Nepal, Israel gets Palestine, and Italy pulls Ethiopia. There are no African countries- they didn't make the tournament this year. No problem tho, the selection committee figures they've been beaten up too many times to even make a layup. Games start tmrw so grab your favorite basketball merchandise and keep the channel set. There will be no upsets so don't bother pulling for the underdog. They've already been neutered, anyway.
0
Mar 20, 2013
Mar 20, 2013 at 10:49 PM UTC
joshua-martin
If The World Was An NCAA Tournament Bracket
it's 8:00 somewhere in Washington D.C. and the global selection committee has made its picks: for the 473rd time all the number one seeds are filled by countries that break the most rims and shatter the most glass. here we have the U.S of the North American region taking on Haiti, cos the poorest countries always place no higher than 14. China of the Asia region has drawn Nepal, Israel gets Palestine, and Italy pulls Ethiopia. There are no African countries- they didn't make the tournament this year. No problem tho, the selection committee figures they've been beaten up too many times to even make a layup. Games start tmrw so grab your favorite basketball merchandise and keep the channel set. There will be no upsets so don't bother pulling for the underdog. They've already been neutered, anyway.
Continue reading...
27
It starts like a beige tuft of fibre Protruding from a large burlap sack. As we pull it from the hidden source It gradually reveals itself. Simple and unassuming, A uniform, coloured strand Which we gather up into a tidy ball. Sometimes another strand is tied Onto the one we pull. A different colour? A change of texture? And so we pull that one anew, We build another coil, While the original strand awaits. The interesting new thread, Reveals itself from the hidden reservoir. The fibre slides through our fingers. Slowly, when there is resistance. Quicker, when it comes loosely. Now coarse and wiry Now soft and slippery, Now thick and tufted. Tough Scottish highlands perhaps? Or rural Ontario? Sometimes the hidden source seems like it may be A hand-knit sweater that we are pulling apart. The strands are still kinked and twisted in places, Echoing a memory of a shape it has held for years. We recognize bits here and there too. Colours and textures from our own story. "I had a pair of socks like that." "Remember our scarves from those cold childhood winters?" The collection of small skeins increases. From a sheep's fleece, yes, but now too From Alpaca, camel and rabbit. Cashmere from Pashmina goats in Nepal? But at last the final strand comes free. You feel the weight of the coiled wool, And see the diversity of the colours. And for each coil We remember again how it appeared How it felt. How the strands Came together And apart.
0
Aug 12, 2013
Aug 12, 2013 at 10:13 AM UTC
ottaross
Of Alice Munro's Short Stories
It starts like a beige tuft of fibre Protruding from a large burlap sack. As we pull it from the hidden source It gradually reveals itself. Simple and unassuming, A uniform, coloured strand Which we gather up into a tidy ball. Sometimes another strand is tied Onto the one we pull. A different colour? A change of texture? And so we pull that one anew, We build another coil, While the original strand awaits. The interesting new thread, Reveals itself from the hidden reservoir. The fibre slides through our fingers. Slowly, when there is resistance. Quicker, when it comes loosely. Now coarse and wiry Now soft and slippery, Now thick and tufted. Tough Scottish highlands perhaps? Or rural Ontario? Sometimes the hidden source seems like it may be A hand-knit sweater that we are pulling apart. The strands are still kinked and twisted in places, Echoing a memory of a shape it has held for years. We recognize bits here and there too. Colours and textures from our own story. "I had a pair of socks like that." "Remember our scarves from those cold childhood winters?" The collection of small skeins increases. From a sheep's fleece, yes, but now too From Alpaca, camel and rabbit. Cashmere from Pashmina goats in Nepal? But at last the final strand comes free. You feel the weight of the coiled wool, And see the diversity of the colours. And for each coil We remember again how it appeared How it felt. How the strands Came together And apart.
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45
12 a.m. November 1, 2014 starry night, ticking clock nothing's changed really!! the hookers are helping desperate men find love One ***** at a time making money a man jumps off a bridge **** life right? Lonely ******* jerking off while a beautiful young **** makes love a mother's breastfeeding her baby who's gonna grow up to end human race while i sit on my chair reading Bukowski "there are times when insanity becomes so real that it isn't insanity anymore" I guess I am no different!! (11/01/2014 Kathmandu, Nepal)
0
Oct 31, 2014
Oct 31, 2014 at 2:14 PM UTC
sprishya
Untitled
12 a.m. November 1, 2014 starry night, ticking clock nothing's changed really!! the hookers are helping desperate men find love One ***** at a time making money a man jumps off a bridge **** life right? Lonely ******* jerking off while a beautiful young **** makes love a mother's breastfeeding her baby who's gonna grow up to end human race while i sit on my chair reading Bukowski "there are times when insanity becomes so real that it isn't insanity anymore" I guess I am no different!! (11/01/2014 Kathmandu, Nepal)
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17
This twilight sky Is like an indigo-orange symphony, In which the light is absorbed To be decomposed in corpuscles. It may be ours until we die. I may be your tree-woman ,a Ginkgo, That Ginkgo having a stony trunk And pure violet spiritual eyes To look at you, While the leaves are trembling Their green sound. Slowly, you may become my tree-lover-man, While a star in the universe is dying for our love. I may feel that force aspiring the quanta of light Near you. Come and be my black infinity, While this earth is cracking its crust From time to time And especially now As at any end of the time. Wind is your embrace, Next to this field of Nepal poppies trembling their hypnotic Red melodious shadow And near this ripe wheat field Loudly shaking its tired yellow. The wind is crazily singing and dancing around. I seemingly hear some astral blue songs. It's like a jazz blues chord progression. Our leaves cling to its long hair. I feel the rainbow of sounds, I feel this love.
0
Jan 9, 2012
Jan 9, 2012 at 8:42 PM UTC
marieta-maglas
The Rainbow Of Sounds
This twilight sky Is like an indigo-orange symphony, In which the light is absorbed To be decomposed in corpuscles. It may be ours until we die. I may be your tree-woman ,a Ginkgo, That Ginkgo having a stony trunk And pure violet spiritual eyes To look at you, While the leaves are trembling Their green sound. Slowly, you may become my tree-lover-man, While a star in the universe is dying for our love. I may feel that force aspiring the quanta of light Near you. Come and be my black infinity, While this earth is cracking its crust From time to time And especially now As at any end of the time. Wind is your embrace, Next to this field of Nepal poppies trembling their hypnotic Red melodious shadow And near this ripe wheat field Loudly shaking its tired yellow. The wind is crazily singing and dancing around. I seemingly hear some astral blue songs. It's like a jazz blues chord progression. Our leaves cling to its long hair. I feel the rainbow of sounds, I feel this love.
Continue reading...
31