Father and Mother Noah both
Sailed away when in wide rushed
Tides to tower over the land,
To cover the mountains high at hand,
Axe-cut planks whereon they plod
Made to float on the waters’ top.

Song of the Aardvarks

In the very heart of us
The most essential part of us
Is our total love of life
To dig in the termite mound alive,
Lie in our burrow with bellies full,
Scratch and breed at the season’s pull.

Front limbs arms like ape or bear
Eight little shovels drive deep in there
Small mouth only needs to take
Termites, with its tubule teeth
Distant elephant our nearest kin
Freaks of evolution.

Song of Mother Noah

In this Ark I cradle safe
My suckling babies free from scathe
Silky kids velvet eared
Little woolly moggies dear
All shall live. None shall die
As the waters rise on high.

Song of the Hawks

She stoops upon them in her sudden flight
The wild mice fleeing at the killing sight,
Her talons long and razor sharp
Drive in with force to pick them up
Meat got, while the sessile male
Scarce a third of a bird is of a look pale.

Song of the Dove

White as a church
Or sepulchre
Blue sea and sky
I rise among
To fly abroad
If land should lie
Where love and peace
May flourish free
In life thereby.

Song of Father Noah on First Releasing the Dove

Because of the evil hearts of men
Out of the sky God sent the rain
The money changers pimps and thieves
Wasted in the oceans’ leave,
Here I put upon the seas
A bird who much more planet sees
With tale to tell of land again.
Go or come just as you please,
Sheltered from the hot Sun’s ray
Safe in the Ark the rest shall stay.

Song of the Sloth

Slow up from lying-down I get
To take my weight on idle foot,
From a heavy, a deep repose
I only stir when to toilet I goes.

Song of Father Noah on Next Releasing the Dove

My clever bird, far off you fared,
The four horizons close compared
Returned to us with bitter word
Dry land had not yet occurred

Song of the ******

All my tendons strong and thin
Stretch to drive a lockpiece in
Hard labour long to make the lodge
Into which to deftly dodge
If danger or else winter threats
The brook closed off as if with gates.

Song of Father Noah on Last Releasing the Dove

Olive tree like ancient man
Ever twisting with your sister
You give us oil for light and pan
And meat; Shade, fruit and timber useful
– Sage bird, a branch to me you bore,
Fly, little god, and come no more.

Song of All the Animals on Being Returned to Dry Land

Ants to hills, cattle to pasture
Birds to trees whatever comes after,
The cleaned land populates anew

Song of the Whales

If a whale come on the land
Put it back if ever you can
Else think it a death parental
Grave, give it respectful funeral.

Noah built an ark made it all from wood
so he could escape from a mighty flood
he took lots of animals took them to by two
put them on the ark a proper floating zoo
so that they could breed  on another shore
and avoid the flood live again once more
Noah sailed away through the wind and rain
saving all the animals so they can breed again
this is how happened all the years ago
its there in the bible so everyone would know

From shelves and racks, or lying in stacks, Books,
Of all ages and epochs—adolescents and youths,
Aged and venerable, and e’en those in decrepitude,
Much eloquent, but in all silence, share with us
Experiences wide ranging, emotions well pent up,
Passions, love and hate, and joys and sufferings,
Triumphs, failings, histories, biographies and maxims.

A pat or stroke, or appeal in awe, or in supplication,
They’d unleash to you, in varied moods and temper,
Their stories, in letters, words, phrases, sentences;
In prose or verse on folios, or in acts and scenes,
Of Helens, Quixotes, Falstaffs, Holmes and Othellos,
In the highs and lows of their pleasures and pathos,
Of Lears, Tristans and Isoldes, and procrastinators.

Of the plucks and spirits of Arjunas and Achilleses,
Of the failings of the ill-fated Kareninas and Bovaries,
Of the unwavering faith of Jobs, Noahs and Abrahams,
Of the lovelorn Sakunthalas, and Sitas under Simsupa,
Of God’s Garden, and of the wisdom of the Himalaya,
They speak in silence, of the real and the imagined,
As mighty godlike genies waiting for our summons!

With all the cards against us we gotta make it manage i swear to God i wish i cld mke yu harm proof what they dont understand its a bigger pic tht i cnt b taken out of ill nvr play yu like lebron vs jordan they say time is money but its not im broke so time all we got n yu cnt mke tht back so give me all yu got treat me like theirs no tomorrow....death over dishonour angel eyes short hair stay the same let the seasons change im willing to build noahs art known it cld b torn apart i aint got a image to uphold i keep the truth i been the truth  im a young simba in his youth. im wondering wat comes with being a better man put Tyson Ali  Mayweather in a ring &  they still cldnt knock my love 4 yu

From shelves and racks, or lying in stacks, Books,
Of all ages and epochs—adolescents and youths,
Aged and venerable, and e’en those in decrepitude,
Much eloquent, but in all silence, share with us
Experiences wide ranging, emotions well pent up,
Passions, love and hate, and joys and sufferings,
Triumphs, failings, histories, biographies and maxims.

A pat or stroke, or appeal in awe, or in supplication,
They’d unleash to you, in varied moods and temper,
Their stories, in letters, words, phrases, sentences;
In prose or verse on folios, or in acts and scenes,
Of Helens, Quixotes, Falstaffs, Holmes and Othellos,
In the highs and lows of their pleasures and pathos,
Of Lears, Tristans and Isoldes, and procrastinators.

Of the plucks and spirits of Arjunas and Achilleses,
Of the failings of the ill-fated Kareninas and Bovaries,
Of the unwavering faith of Jobs, Noahs and Abrahams,
Of the lovelorn Sakunthalas, and Sitas under Simsupa,
Of God’s Garden, and of the wisdom of the Himalaya,
They speak in silence, of the real and the imagined,
As mighty godlike genies waiting for our summons!

Well they knew it was coming,
                        But didn't do a thing,
building in secret, not many knew..

Two by two of species some
   Well known but 40 days
And 40 nights some never
Made it home..

As the waters rose,
And land was swolllowed.
A mother with a child.

"Please take my children,
  "They have not sinned,

"Nothing done against this God.

Noah looked and walked away..

As his children went to help,
                Stay your pity.
The mother is sin so then is
   The child..

A *******
         as out of wedlock born.

Cries lasted for hours,
        Then swallowed like

The land.

"Father why didn't we even
       Save one,

Noah answered

"They angered our father,
   Thinking they didn't need
        His love,

The children confused,

"But if they grew out of
     The cradle shouldn't a
        Father be proud

As self sufficient..

Noah agnerly replied..

"We will always need him,
    He is our father, mother, child.

To deny him is sin untold,
  So he cleaned the slate.

And we his children were
    Saved for we obey,
   His word is just.


As the dove came back,
   Land was fruitful once more

And on the shoreline a child
Face down..

But Noah didn't flinch,
    Walking past he said to
His family,
                    God is good..

Genocide was his gift,
    And not all the animals
That attended found this
                     New home.

There bones discarded
    On the ocean floor.
Two by two they deserted
   This prison ship.

And so Noah and his family
    Repopulated the earth..

Now for the mindful  just
       Think deeply on that.

(in The News) Human Trafficking And Slavery

something that should have gone out
with the dark ages 'still rages'.

human trafficking and slavery for the almighty dollar
and no one to hear the screams and hollers.

young children being forced into prostitution
and not one country with a solution.
parents selling their children to get out of debt
just to make ends meet
a problem which they can not defeat.

yet we classify ourselves as humane?
now that's a crying shame.

if your mother or father was sold as a slave
is that the road that you would pave?

they steal the most precious things
from these boys and girls.
their innocence and their childhood
and turn around and say it's good!

these people say that it's too late
and of no use, to try to stop this
worldwide abuse.

maybe it's time for noahs ark
to reappear, and instill in their hearts
the almightys fear.

but the LORD had done this once before
and we had found another door.
so i guess the solution is not
just for the LORD to decide.

but for all of humanity to see
that this destruction has exceeded their realities.

the LORD has to soften our hearts
and weaken our minds
in the hopes that we will find
all the values we left behind.

'SEEK AND YE SHALL FIND

(for Noah when he was

5 years old)



Child angel

resting

on a pillow

of clouds.



Head of hair

three weeks

overdue

from the

barber's

chair.



spiderman pajamas

keeping

your dreams

toasty

against the

midnight air.,



your mother

and  I lying

next to

you as you

sleep.



only five

years old.

and you

have made

every

dream in our

lives come

true.



slumber well

our son.

slumber deep.



under this

harvest moon



our dreams

you keep.

I woke up in Omaha Nebraska off California street
with the sun kissing me through the open window
I woke up with no alarm,
Alarmed by the fact that I might be late for work
But I wasn't
In fact I was right ON time
Put off by the fact that it was nothing or no one that awoke me,
But my own conscious self
Knowing somehow, that even with my eyes closed
My thoughts were wide open
I was fully aware
My naked body arose from where I slept
And crept up in a home ( not of my own )
To awkwardly put on MY OWN clothes
Through someone else's window
.. I start to think ..
How often I really have put on my own clothes
Through someone else's window
Looking closely now,
I change the word 'window' to 'perception'
Kind of like my own sort of window,
My own way of perception
How often I dress myself for the occasion,
or better yet, THEIR occasion
How often I've put on those skinny jeans,
Because YOU like them
How often I wear a bra
Because you don't want to see what my *****
look like through my favorite silk shirt
When I say 'you' - You know who you are
At least, you know who you might be
How often times people do things for you
How often times you do things for other people
How often you hold yourself back from being you - at all
How many times I have held myself back from being me,
And **** it's such a shame. I am ashamed.
Honestly by the most simple things
Overthinking a compliment I want to give someone
Because we are about to pass each other on the same side of the street
Avoiding their eye contact by just looking down
And staring at my own feet

COOL. REALLY. COOL.

I have been wearing these moccasins for 4 months now, Alisha
They look good, but I already know this
I am not the one who needs to hear it
Especially, not from myself
And I don't know them at all, but maybe,
Just maybe, what I want to say to them
Could break down what we all thought was an everlasting wall
Whether it be MINE or THEIRS
At the end of the chapter,
A wall that separates us from our own freeedom
Where we break down all similar walls and learn to defeat them
If anything, a smile, maybe a compliment back,
Not even to myself, but the next person down the track
It's a small movement, but I want it to move
I am making this promise to myself,
Because I want to improve
I want to make things that are so simple
More common in this world
Things that should not be overlooked,
Spread out amongst everyone and painted on their face like a mural
Desire for this righteous fire I want to be in power of
Spreading my smile for literal miles
Like Noahs Ark and that sacred white dove
The best thing about a dove is
It is just but a white pigeon
And every pigeon is capable of finding its white dove within him

It is there, and it always has been
Right under your sleeve
In the sliver of your grin
We can make this world more than you ever imagined
The power behind the strength of passion
When people come together in the form of one
When we all hold hands
Do you know what is being done
Connection is so out of this world
Touch is what keeps us in this treacherous swirl
Deadly sins that we latch on to
Riding the dragon is what we need to
Do, and do again
Tell the entire world, and invite all your friends
We are all Great Gods in this lonesome kingdom
The path to aloness is what is hidden underneath you
Very beneath you, you will have to fight
Fight to the death of your ego inside
It holds no mold, despite all you have been told
This world will **** you in,
and drag down your immortal soul
It is there, and it always has been
I will show you the road
Soften your ego, and create a new mold
You could stay here forever if what you look for is gold
Not the the gold that you see, but the gold that you feel
Not in front of your eyes, but what is actually real
No picture or place, No space or time
Use what you want to invent your new rhyme
Rhythm is now, rhyming is here
The goal of music
(Your mathematical medicine, my dear)
Replace your body with tunes of the soul
Sing the great white song
And let the youth be OH SO BOLD
Bolder than you could have possibly pictured
The movie you've been waiting for
Is your motion picture
Event, that is happening now
Sit back and enjoy
Those who don't know are your crowd


That in itself is exceptionally sad
Why would you leave behind your loved ones
Your mom or your dad
Your sister or brother
Your dead cousin or grandmother
They have no conscious awareness
It was never their fault
It was never their meaning to forever fall
The change of pace is now in your hands
This entire universe is inside you,
Give awareness a chance
Keep guiding yourself towards this lightning bolt feeling
Let it live inside you
Realize what your keeping
To yourself and not sharing
This selfishness will sink
It is absolutely more powerful than you could possibly think
It is the path to aloneness,
but who wants to be alone?
We could all share this peace
Let us connect and hold hands
Give our dark sins the golden control

Du ser på den fineste, fine pige
med naturlige bølger i håret
som dem af saltvand
der kysser stranden
ved hendes fødder.

Det kilder i din mave,
og den sitrende fornemmelse
kører til brystkassen,
som nu føles
tung
og fyldt.
Du smiler til hende
og dit smil bliver dobbelt så bredt,
da du ser
at *** smiler
tilbage.
Monets have blomstrer
og Noahs ark danser
i din mave,
ved synet
af hendes fine ansigt,
der lyser op
i solens stråler.

Du har givet hende
det smil,
som nu står malet
mellem hendes kinder.

Du er kunstneren
og *** er kunsten.

I was born with fists clenched
And full of contradiction.
I was born teeth first
And mouth last, which is to say
I knew how to bite back
Long before I knew how to open.
I was born with an umbillical noose
And blue skin.
Sometimes I forget that
There was, in fact, a revival.
I was born into a family
Of magicians.
Maybe thats why
I find comfort in the empty rooms.
I was born there.
Sometimes I think about
The sins I have not yet commited
And can't remember
Anything about Eve in a wedding dress.
Sometimes I think about the sins
I am actively committing
And relive the Leviticus stoning of
my own Mother
when I was seven
And she made my father disappear.
I was born hearing folklore
Of a hare that was too tired
to finish the race.
I was born being the tree that it napped against,
And also the hare
And also the finish line
And also the unfinished line
And never the tortoise.
I was born on Noahs Ark. 
I have always been
The 39th night.
Always close to the sun returning in the morning
But never and closer,
Though I have been a rainbow
And I have held concrete.  
I have gone swimming in the mud.  
I **** the panic with smoke.  
I know all three states of god
Because I was born the
god of something.  
I was born the God of my body
And that's something
That's never going to change.

with my hands on my heart and knife on the clown
I'm just pretending I'm laughing..while it all crashes down..
just breathing for a moment.. and watching everyone around
they look so happy.. have they all been swimming in the magic potion..
brewed by the old ghost i found lingering in the shadows..
I wonder if they can see how the flood has swept everything away on the ground..
the noahs arc is broken.. begging for mechanic to repair the scars..
every hour a new boy is born to rip off the struggling heart..
no daughter to confuse your soul with.. the father makes me sick..
and mother's out there in the ocean.. ready to drown..

is that what they preached when we were kids ?
I never came to know.. i was down for a while with random ****..
and they told me my words don't mean anything unless I learn with fire..

where there is hate there is desire to destroy whatever you make of it..
stranger times have weathered the storms.. those gave me the chills

and I'm forgetting if I was supposed to be polite to the outside world..
the same folks who never cared if the little boy was hurt..

now Give me your solution and dissolve me of your worries..
I want that bollywood hit... where I'll be lost with a beautiful chick lost in poppy seeds.
I've bled what you bleed and I was never disgusted to how it all panned out...

no matter how much the school principle spent the time in screaming..
I never heard  anyone shout...
MAYBE I never cared for the migraine bouts..
far too less concerned with life and all that it takes away..
always ready to run away
from their dreams and what they kept out to be lost..

I was never the good child.. always pathetic and vile...
ready to **** in a moment of heat.. now I've stabbed myself enough to leave..

Let me go.. let me rule my world..
let me love like no other..
I don't need your fake sisters and brothers..
I DON'T pray to your god.. I'm just happy alone in the woods...
With a pair of socks and twenty dogs..
waiting for me to whistle I never came to realise..
I'm ready for your demise..
I'm ready for mine..

pray that I don't ever cross your path.. they say I have a burning mind..

too engrossed in moment of bliss.. that i don't have the time to be who's right..
But that's alright..
that's enough for a fight..
and in the night I'll pretend I've fallen asleep...
dreaming about things they never let me keep..
for an age.. I was getting on the stage.. for the reapers who wouldn't really reap..

that's a thousand feet from where I've stood all my life..
holding the knife on my throat that cuts deep..

isn't it beautiful to be different when you don't know how to be anything else ?

maybe a tree that isn't free ?

What they cannot be And what I cannot see ?

do I have to be what they tell me how it's all supposed to be ?

never beautiful but always afraid..


why not be how i was made ?

even though a mistake..

isn't it beautiful to be ugly..

When all the lights will die
From this planetary universe
Of course you'll wonder, why?
This darkness can't go inverse
Isn't the above lines wrong?
Imbalance of light and dark
Would bring chaos for long
Destructions will leave its mark
Wondering...
Will there be another 'Noahs' ark?
This time or next...

©sim

The sun played its usual tricks on the leaves
putting colour and composition into autumns grandeur
but winter lurked just underneath this cosmetic skin
waiting to burst starflung into every crevice
where the ice remains as cold as a frozen temperament.

Deep within the earth the heart
of the seed will rest embraced by the long wait
to be ****** out of the earths womb into spring
where the soft sun and wind and rain
will reach out and grab the arms of the emerging shoot
claw it above ground and set it free into
the wide world of evolution.

Welcome the rain, remnants of noahs ark
that bloats the soil and sand and pulls the roots back
into the ground while coursing through the veins
of the resplendent tree reaching for the sky
and wind and wonder of life
and dressed in foliage and flowers
the kingdom of believers will arrive
to set foot under shade and succulent tube
to nourish themselves in bounty and beauty

Autumn will return from its journey
to touch a clock and take the baton
of beauty back again. A year gone.
Older. Wiser. Smarter.
Author Notes

A journey through the four seasons. It summer in New Zealand and sizzling. Its not the best summer to write about. Soon it will fall into the next cycle and all that I write about will repeat.

I took my dog, Petals for a walk yesterday. She always stops at one particular flowering bed and ferrets out-whatever. That's when the poem came to me.
Hope you enjoy the poem. To those caught in blizzards and ice and snow wherever, remember, there is beauty in that too! Just gotta love it-which ever way. Its nice to be alive.
© Marshall Gass. All rights reserved.

They say a picture is worth a thousand words, so I’ll have to sing a sea of syllables into your ears as even the blind can see with their hearts, minds and imaginate a journey with me.

Waking up to a fresh, clean, crisp sheet, warmly it holds you in bed as you try to open your eyes but this morning the front and back of the little lids that normally unlock your world suddenly share the same view, black, dark, it looks like blinding night in your day this morning,

Breathe, your heart pounds as if it’s trying to escape… BREATHE! Ok wow, calm down now! stop breathing before you pass out! no one is planning to take your air away, but you are about to learn what that casual cliché, so easily tossed around means when it looks like it’s here to stay, that is to say; life carries on.

Calming your farm down to a mild “end-of-the-world-as-we-know-it” panic, your blood-curdling scream that pierces the dream atmosphere of bacon and freshly roasted coffee reaches to the kitchen and corners your Mom, I CAN’T SEE!

Fast forward till tomorrow;
doc John said its totally temporary! stress related, soon to pass blindness, gone in a week max, no biggie, get some rest and drink plenty of water for your thirsty eyes.

Frustration turns to sad acceptance and so we begin…

After 2 days of wrestling with the depression of your fate, you are found lying at the initial crime scene in those once fresh sheets where it all began, they’re warm and slightly wet from tears of why me? Oh woe! Poor pity party politics gossiped a track around your head together with an ever increasingly boring, internal investigation into life and all things self-centred until thankfully, eventually you give up.

Cautiously stepping out of that noise for a stumble around your midnight world to take a stress relieving seat by the window, with some water to replenish the puffy and somewhat useless sprinkler system on your face once called eyes.
You fumble to open the window latch and let life in, as you do it’s as if Noahs ark sprung a rainbow leak, flooding your imagination all at once,

Imagery

Crystal clear you see through your ears, almost endless scenes of birds cooing small talk with rustling leaves, even the wind smells new as its warm ancient stories hint past your nose and hairline.
The neighbour’s dog suddenly sounds as if he finished a whole bowl full of bark on loudspeaker.
Heat and cold, pressure changing pockets gently caress you in waves of temperature on the now super sensitive shores of your skin.

You have become an exposed nerve of senses, with imagery stuffing itself into your ever-expanding mind, this is how superheroes are born! You think, as the cocoon of depression falls off and you spread your wings into the sounds of sunlight.

Tuning into new frequencies you realize that you can catch Friday action night on Good Hope fm.

Before you know it those wet sheets accommodate the visually handicapped once more as your sight comes back from its holiday, apparently stress-free, the doctor checked.

I still catch you closing your eyes every once in a while though, I guess you’re probably visiting those newfound friends of yours Faith & and imagined imagery again.

Fbi agent poke made his play.
My ******* has never been the same.
Chess for Christians.
Noahs **** .
Running because it's a Sunday
Afternoon tea. Served with *******.