"prologues" poems
The prologues are over. It is a question, now,
Of final belief. So, say that final belief
Must be in a fiction. It is time to choose.
I
That obsolete fiction of the wide river in
An empty land; the gods that Boucher killed;
And the metal heroes that time granulates -
The philosophers' man alone still walks in dew,
Still by the sea-side mutters milky lines
Concerning an immaculate imagery.
If you say on the hautboy man is not enough,
Can never stand as a god, is ever wrong
In the end, however naked, tall, there is still
The impossible possible philosophers' man,
The man who has had the time to think enough,
The central man, the human globe, responsive
As a mirror with a voice, the man of glass,
Who in a million diamonds sums us up.
II
He is the transparence of the place in which
He is and in his poems we find peace.
He sets this peddler's pie and cries in summer,
The glass man, cold and numbered, dewily cries,
"Thou art not August unless I make thee so."
Clandestine steps upon imagined stairs
Climb through the night, because his cuckoos call.
III
One year, death and war prevented the jasmine scent
And the jasmine islands were ****** martyrdoms.
How was it then with the central man? Did we
Find peace? We found the sum of men. We found,
If we found the central evil, the central good.
We buried the fallen without jasmine crowns.
There was nothing he did not suffer, no; nor we.
It was not as if the jasmine ever returned.
But we and the diamond globe at last were one.
We had always been partly one. It was as we came
To see him, that we were wholly one, as we heard
Him chanting for those buried in their blood,
In the jasmine haunted forests, that we knew
The glass man, without external reference.
17k
1.
Inhaling poison like it’s a sweet spring breeze,
an antidote to the pounding heart and aching stomach empty of comfort or substance
Meeting with pavement in a tiger’s crouch
fingers float toward parted lips
awaiting the taste of relief in the form of smouldering leaves.
2.
One tentative epidermis approaches another
tendons and ligaments straining, aching for contact
attempting nonchalance in the lamplight privacy of early morning,
cocking ears to detect voyeuristic insomniacs
who would disturb the disorderly expressions of early experimentation.
3.
White lady dusting the concrete path, sterile and unconfined
laid new before careful feet making their way to shiny metal boxes
bundled in seasonal expectations they trudge through stardust
on their way to blood borne obligations,
leaving behind careless tracks in ****** flesh
4.
Blazing sun presses down on shoulders hunched behind compact table tops
peddling penny prologues to unabashed strangers
bartering unwanted pocket change for rejected trinkets
haggling over half-dried finger paints and unfinished chess sets
rescuing garish afghans from dusty closeted life.
Oct 17, 2012
Oct 17, 2012 at 7:33 PM UTC
The coffee *** just signalled, Ready,
So I pour the cream before the java:
A cup of divergent thinking.
There are roads running
In opposite directions,
Sharing points of similarity:
A tree, a sign, me.
Inside or outside the box of thinking,
Using the lower and upper ladder rungs
To paint the same wall,
Prologues and epilogues to the same story,
Lawyers in clown suits,
Children using,
Kittens chewing slippers,
Dogs in litter boxes,
Earth cooling,
Healing and feeding the masses,
Elected monarchies... NO monarchies,
Sleeping in or getting up,
Cursory letter to family and friends
(Though this is coming to an end),
Making love while wearing gloves,
The moon moves east to west
In the blink of sleep,
Churches giving alms and unlocking doors,
Schools excelling,
Parents attending.
To juxtapose is divergent,
Like sobering up with detergent
(You may be clean, but are you dry?).
If insurgents were divergent,
We'd have more convergence.
Feb 10, 2015
Feb 10, 2015 at 9:25 AM UTC
All so called blood relations have gone to dogs
Either they are blood thirsty or weak like thread
Faces and hearts are filled with filth as prologues
Want to ****** away even last loaves of bread
Sell coffins of their dear ones to make them naked
They are constant buyers of contempt and hatred
They get their buds nurtured with loved ones blood
Their actions speak louder than their words avid
Let me take the case to all who suffer with malice
Wash intentions with the water of heaven to be fair
Be sincere and honest in your approach not jealous
Let us take pains of all to take care ,be ready to bear
Col Muhammad Khalid Khan
Copyright 2016 Golden Glow
Sep 17, 2016
Sep 17, 2016 at 8:08 AM UTC
Just wanted to go someplace where no one knows my name. I wanna go there alone but not lonely.
Why do I feel so lonely sometimes Even when surrounded by a lot of people?
Why cant this feeling of Emptiness just go away?
Let me forget Everything, the things I know , My Identity, all the problems , and Unwind from it completely.
Help Me Unravel My whole life to find My true self.
Grant My Mind Tranquility amidst everything that's going on in my life.
Make me see my problems as a new Opportunity.
Make me Become useful to my family and not a Hindrance
Help us become prosperous someday, so that my family wont need to face more hardships in life
Give them profusion not scarcity.
Sometimes I envy those who have overabundance in everything, I encourage myself not to but just cant help it sometimes.
I don't fear death I only fear what it prologues.
Why did i write ?
I don't do it for people to think and assume that I'm smart
Just wanted to say how I really feel deep Inside.
I'm not smart. nope. never in my life.
Never Earned any medals at all.
There's a lot of things I don't Know and still want to learn.
As what Socrates once said,
"I know One thing , That I know nothing"
Jan 7, 2018
Jan 7, 2018 at 2:53 PM UTC
Yes yes yes
I have seen
I have seen and
must tell someone
yes Yes yes
and oh how they
rose up out of the
very ground that I am
on now and you must
be on also
Plato too and Alexander
DaVinci Shakespeare
and the rest,
same quality of earth
same zig zag shape
of snaking rolling
prologues and epitaphs
and it goes and goes
yes yes Yes
life on this
life on that thing unknown
bouncing bubbling
hereandthere life
good life half life
people takin' it and
running life
and the down down
down life,
yes
and don't forget the downbrother
and sister
on a bad no good
trip or trippin'
over someone else's
trip, yeah
somebody's got it in their
back pocket yeah everybody's
got it but nobody wants to
play it
oh boy oh boy
what can ya do when
everything is up and down
and down and out
all at the same time
and you've been smacked by
heaven forgetting some poor
guy down the road
dyin' for a nickel,
well I got nothin' for it
but to spill-
spill it all out
here
"I'm sorry, I really am"
but you don't want sorry
sorry doesn't taste like
dignity apple pie
fresh out of
the ephemeral oven
no
no no
sorry tastes bitter
like a lemon
in the sun,
well what's a guy
to do with that
other than pluck
a fresh one from
the fridge and try
to slow the day
Apr 7, 2014
Apr 7, 2014 at 8:12 PM UTC
prosaic prologues bewitch
feeble minded scribe doth undertake
tend toward lugubriousness ring tone
for goodness sake
echoing across,
a figurative lake woebegone, where quake
shutters latched storm windows,
clapped closed winter season didst make
physical environment lachrymose
analogous to imp pond durable dark lake
where sits inside secluded hut,
this fledgling author named Jake
a former cub (scout) at a loss
to string together an aria
tomb other nature and NOT FAKE,
sepulchral paeon to divine Gaea, Mother Earth
especially incorporating
mutisyllabic (sesquipedalian) words,
which exertion
on par with giving birth
(or so I guess),
a particularly heavily pregnant laden dearth
of help mates, doubling demonstrably
deadly duty devoid of mirth
totally tubular taxing toll,
an essentially unbearable
effort with bulging girth
whereat digestion consumes
latent mental ambition,
especially toasty warm near the hearth
which hitherto unknown to any reader
twas Xmas fabrication and fiction
no crime committed, nor animals harmed
in the making of diction
aery necessary entrapping unsuspecting intellect
to comprehend somber benediction
unless perchance one lone wolf
bait Oven English Major
with Westernization
topped off with a European
debunaire suave acculturation
even luckier if hypothetical personage
dips daintily into forays epicurean,
though careful,
and alert since church fathers
would frown on parsonage
whose natural born ardor,
a spiritual abduction
stealing austerity, complacency, and objection
toward forced irrational schemas
averse to abnegation
unfair imposition
to foist upon pruriant predilection
also impossible mission
to sequester arbitrary animal urges,
punishing call of the wild,
sowing seeds a ******** accusation
considered averse,
then imposition contrition!
Nov 28, 2017
Nov 28, 2017 at 12:58 AM UTC
I think the hardest part of loving someone
Is the prologue
It's the small talks
The casual glances
I think the aches of missing someone
The wanting to know him
The know that he is someone you'll fall deep for
To be sure that this is a risky choice
Yet I am all in to fall in love again and again
In love with souls I've yet to meet
All the more with the ones I've yet to know
Dec 25, 2015
Dec 25, 2015 at 2:08 PM UTC
We are open diaries
Have seen each other's folds
Have touched the innermost souls.
We are a pen
Of written prologues
And broken epilogues.
We are almost there,
Aren't we?
Until that day we stopped talking
And became some sweet strangers
Again.
Jan 30, 2018
Jan 30, 2018 at 9:41 AM UTC
We are open diaries
Have seen each other's folds
Have touched the innermost souls.
We are a pen
Of written prologues
And broken epilogues.
We are almost there,
Aren't we?
Until that day we stopped talking
And became some sweet strangers
Again.
Feb 27, 2018
Feb 27, 2018 at 10:18 AM UTC