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THE RAT AND THE PREGNANT WOMAN


A story poem

BY

Alexander K Opicho
(Eldoret, Kenya;aopicho@yahoo.com)



Dedicated to;
My mother Neddy Nabisino Mayende Kuloba Makhakara
And her mother Maritini Nabengele Nasenya Mulemia Namugugu Ilungu wa Wenwa.
The story telling power of these two ladies is the primary source of my passion and love for humorous and peace bettling stories. I owe them all the recognitions.







OPENING SONG
How do I start telling this story that I got from my
Grandmothers when sited around the fire yard in the evening?
I don’t know how to start surely,
For to day I am very shy; all of your eyes
Are on me, looking at me like ocean of looking organs
But let me embolden my self with the belt
Of a story teller that my grand father gave me
And commanded me to preach peace
Through story telling in every place I go
So my spiritual service to humanity is telling stories
Is to soothe and heal wounds of humanity
By softly telling peaceful stories
Let me then cough to clear my voice and start;

Long time ago, but not very long time
Some where between the centuries of twelve hundred
And seventeen hundred after the death of the other Jewish
Story teller who died without a wife, who died on the cross
But others say he died on the stake, his name was Jesus,
There existed only two kingdoms in land which is known today
As Bukusu land found in the present east Africa or Indian Ocean coastal Africa,
The first occupants of this vast land is the sons and daughters of Babukusu
Or the ones who like selling ironsmith products
And hence the name the people of Bukusu; the people who sell,
The two kingdoms were the Kingdom of muntu and the kingdom of manani
The citizens in the kingdom of muntu were short men and short women
Handsome and beautiful, slender and not assertive in their physical disposition
But the citizens of the kingdom of manani were all cyclopic,
In their everything; the manner of walking, talking farting, micturating
Farming, breathing, snoring, smiling, singing, whispering
Their whisper was a noisy as the tropical thunderclap
They were tall men and tall women, very tall
Their young person was as short as the tallest
Person in the kingdom of muntu,
When one of the citizen of manani snores
All the citizens of Muntu along together with,
Their king Walumoli wa Muntu had no option
But remain awake throughout the night,
Because the cacophony of a snore from
The sleeping courts of Manani was not bearable,

On many occasions Walumoli wa Muntu
The conscientious king of the muntu kingdom
Had arranged to talk to Silinki wa Namunguba
The ostensible king of the Manani Kingdom
About the cacophonous sleep robbing
Snores of daughters and sons in neighbour kingdom of Manani
Only to cow and chicken away in a feat of prudence
Lest Silinki wa Namunguba will suspect him for being
A night runner or a thief of *** perhaps
Who roams his compound during the wee of the night
In hunt of any of Namunguba’s wife maybe
Perchance having gone out for a mid-night *******,
This is how legendary snores of the sons and daughters
Of Silinki wa Namunguba the king of Manani
Has remained unchecked for ever till today,

One time an ugly passer by happened to be seen
Traversing the kingdom of muntu
In the early afternoon some two
Hours after Walumoli the king
Had just cleared the last plate
Of the mid day meal from
His last wife Khatembete Kho Bwibo Khakhalikaha Nobwoya
He always eats her food last in the afternoon
Because it comes on the table steaming youthfulness
He loves his Khatembete wife, the wife of his old age
The wife he married by use and show of the royal regalia
The powers and dignity of the king of muntu
He married her when he his a king, the scepter in his hand,

Going back to the ugly passer by
It was never known where he came from
Not from the east where the Indian Ocean is
Not from the west where the vastness of the land
Of black people of Baganda and Bacongo
Baigbo and Bayoruba or Bafulana of Nigeria
Or the sons of Madiokor Ngoni Diop in the Senegal,
Not from the south from shaka the Zulu and Mandella the wise one
Not from north in the land of Dinka and Nuer, Ethiopian Jewish and the Egyptians,
The passerby was ugly and from no where, in a dress and
A very ***** dress that fumed out a malodorously stenching reek
He was a man in attires of a woman; this was a taboo in the land of muntu
He was left handed and a heavy weight stammerer, with an appalling
Protuberation of   a hunched back, an enormous hunchback
Enmassing entired of his masculine shoulders,
When the wind blew his loose dress followed it
Leaving the man’s thighs and then bossom naked,
Leading bystanders to a strange discovery; he was not circumcised
He was old like any other father, he had beards
But not yet circumcised, his ***** ends in corkscrew of a sheath,
This was a taboo in the land of muntu, in the kingdom of muntu
Which Walumoli wa Muntu the son of Mukitang’a Mutukuika ruled
For the spirits, gods and ancestors as well as foremen of the kingdom
Behooved that all male offsprings of the kingdom of muntu
Whether born in marriage or out of the wedlock
Born the blood or born as a ******* must and must be
Circumcised in the early teen hood
They must be circumcised before they grow the hairs
On the face, on the chest, in the scapula and on the areas
Surrounding the testicles, the **** and the endings of the backbone,
The man again had six fingers on the legs and on the hands
He walks slowly like a porcupine, his dress was in tartars
He was violent to every one he met
Insulting old people and old women with words
Of bad manners not used in the kingdom of muntu,
He terrified and beat young children, including the royal children
And grand children of Walumoli the king of muntu
He again had to beat and chase nine young virgins
Who had come from the palace of Walumoli the king of Muntu
Away from the forest when they picking fire wood
As well as playing a game of hide and seek with other palace lads,
The ugly passer by then chased to get hold of the
Nalukosi the first born daughter of
Khatembete Kho Bwibo Khakhalikaha Nobwoya
The beloved last wife of the king of Muntu
All other virgins ran home, but Nalukosi remained behind
In the inextricable grip of the ugly passer by
She screamed with hysteria of a hypochondriac
She screamed and kicked with her wholesome mighty
The stubborn passer by never left her alone
She gnawed the ugly passer by with
Her girlish claws of her fingernails
But is like the passer by was mentally disordered
He was a ******* of some time
He derived some pleasure and instead
Enjoyed the girlish scratches of his captive,
Before the eight running virgins reached the palace
Together with their companions, the playmate lads
The shrilling scream of the captive Nalukosi
Was sharply heard at the palace, first by King Walumoli
Who called his wife Khatembete Kho Bwibo Khakhalikha Nobwoya
To come out of the hut, the kitchen and help to listen,
Immediately Mukisu wa Mujonji the palace keeper surfaced
His face displayed genuine askance of an adept military man
Whose martial arts have rusted for a week without usage
He confirmed to the king that the cry from the forest
Is of the one from this royal home of your majesty the king
And none other than the ****** princes Nalukosi Mukoyonjo
The pride of her father, the eye of the palace,
Without hesitation the king permitted the wallabying Mukisu ,
Permission to run in a military dint and find out whatever that
Was eating Nalukosi Mukoyonjo the familial heart of the king,
Mukisu wa Mujonji who was clearly known in the kingdom of muntu,
For his swift running like a desert kite, he already twice chased
And gotten single handedly two male gazelles,
Without aid of a dog nor aid of fellow hunters
And delivered them to the king as a present to the palace
Which he achieved because of the speed of his legs,
On this royal permission he unsheathed his matchette
And went away like any arrow from the bow
His shirt trailing behind him like mare’s tail
Or like the flag on the post on a windy day,
Not a lot of time passed.
Mukisu wa Mujonji is at the spot of struggle,
Between Nalukosi and the Ugly passerby
There was no question or talking,
The first thing was Mukisu to sink the Matchette
With all of his mighty into the tummy of the ugly stranger
The bowels of the ugly stranger opened puffwiiii!
He breathed and gasped twice then succumbed to death.
His grip still strong on the leg of Nalukosi Mukoyonjo
The ugly passer by reached the rigor Mortis
When Nalukosi was still strongly gripped in his
Beastly hand, Mukisu wa Mujonji with all the skills
Used a Sharp matchette again; chopped of the hand
Of the ugly dead passer by off, from its torso
At the point of the muscular elbow,
Now Nalukosi was extricated, but not fully
From the grip of the dead ugly stranger,
The chopped off hand is still knotted at her leg
Around her leg, the dead hand also grips.
Nalukosi jumped here and there to throw away
The leg and the dead hand, but it was not easy to throw
The hand still stubbornly gripped around her angle,
*** time passed, each and every one of the kingdom came
Including the king Walumoli wa Muntu himself
And his nine wives, Khatembete Khobwibo Khakhalikha Nobwoya
Came last, as she was energyless due to rudely shocking tidings
Which the escaping virgins and lads had given her
That the ugly passer by had turned into the ogre
And had swallowed her daughter Nalukosi
That he had swallowed her piecemeal without chewing,
People of muntu came and found the ugly passerby dead
The left had chopped off its torso
But still hanging loosely on the leg of Nalukosi
Nalukosi jumping, kicking, screaming
Screaming away the dead hand from the grip of leg
But nothing had forthcame her way,
Walumoli wa Muntu could not afford to see
The hand on the leg of her beloved daughter
What could he tell his wife, is your all know
Dear reader and audience to this song;
Even the mighty and the wise ones
Generously bend when under the pressure of love,
Out of this dint, even before Mukisu wa Mujonji
Could display his next military card
Walumoli wa Muntu grapped the dead hand
That stuck of the leg of her daughter
And pulled it with another force that
No man born of woman has
Never used since the creation of the earth
By the gods and spirits of Muntu,
The hand come off, he throw it
On the cadaver of the ugly stranger,
He clicked and clicked and hissed
With anger like a wild turkey
In the African thorny forest,
He ordered the dead one to be buried
Their without haste, nor ceremony
Mukisu wa Mujonji buried the body
Quickly in a brief moment with precision
As if he was taking notes
From the lines of the poem
OF Pablo Neruda on how
To bury a dog behind the house
This time burying an ugly stranger
Behind the forts of the kingdom,
After all these women, children and men
Of muntu plus their king Walumoli
Went back to their houses hilariously
Broken into a song and a wild *** dance;
Makoe eehe! Makoe !
Nifwe Talangi Makoe !
Talangi!
Khwaula embogo sitella
Nifwe Talangi!
They sang up to midnight before
They all retired to their beds
Respective beds with panting thoraces
From heavy singing and dancing.

There is connection and disconexion between
The living and the dead, the living fear the dead
And dead loves the living,
The dead want the company of the living
For the living to accompany in the land of the dead,
When the ugly stranger was killed
And buried uncircumcised with the hunch
Not plucked out of his back
The gods and the livings dead
In the realm of the ancestors
Of the kingdom of Muntu were not happy,
They never wanted uncircumcised old man
With a hunch back to join them
And worse enough with the six fingers,
The gods and ancestors really god annoyed
That Walumoli wa Muntu has done them bad
He is only caring for the living, the pre-mortals
Especially his last wife and the daughter
But he has neglected the ancestors,
Why trash to ancestors a stark humanity,
They communed among themselves
And resolved to sent Namaroro
The god of dreams, dreams as messages
From the ancestors and dreams from the gods
Namaroro visited Namunyu Lubunda the palace
Prophet in the Kingdom of Muntu to pass
The message vesseling unhappiness of the ancestors
And gods in a blend of gloomy read to execute
A vendetta;
This is when in the wee of the night that Namunyu Lubunda
Dreamed and had a vision of a old man from
The east is warning of the coming long spell of starvation
That will befall the kingdom of Muntu for ten years
                                      That Namaroro told Namunyu Lubunda
As for ten seasons of foodlessness
Behold a begging kingdom
Behold a starving throne,
The scepter of Muntu is a disgrace
To the holder
Then Namunyu Lubunda set forth by dawn
To the Palace to meet Walumoli wa Muntu
In his, palace before any other royal chores come up,
Both good and bad luck combined
Only to have Namunyu Lubunda to get the king at the palace
He got him fresh and relaxed chewing the cup of fortune
In his full ego, all his wives had submitted to the morning dishes
To his dining hall in the palace, he moved his hands from
One plate of food to the other.
Namunyu Lubunda entered with a submissive salutation
To the royal, He bowed and declared the glory of the king
In typical standards of the ethnic composition of the house of Muntu
Walumoli wa Muntu Mukitang’a Mutukuika
Majave Kutusi Mbirira Omwene esimbo ya
Kumukasa,
Walumoli responded with a feat of dignity to Namunyu Lubunda
The palace prophet, as he roared to him; come in
Come in son of Lubunda son of our people,
He did mention the name of Namunyu Lubunda father
As he fears his words may escape with the power
Of his kingdom the scepter of Muntu
To other insignificant families in the kingdom,
Let me announce what brings me here; intoned Namunyu
Go ahead and announce my holiness
s the prophet of this kingdom; responded Walumoli,
Misfortune is awaiting the kingdom
It will eat this kingdom away
Like a ravenous hyena on the ewe’s tail
The ancestors and the spirits of this land
This kingdom of yours the son of Muntu
Are immensely offended with your recent behaviour
In which you commandeered all villages
In your kingdom; from east and west
The **** the innocent passer by
With your owner hands that handle the scepter
You killed and lay to rest the foreigner
A pure omurende to the kingdom of muntu
You buried him uncircumcised without contrite
In the cemeteries of our foremen who asleep and circumcised
Why did you lower the dignity of our forefathers
Who never share a roof with uncircumcised person
To share the ancestral realm; our emagombe
With hunchback foreigner not circumcised?
This kingdom is condemned to all spell of curse of death
Ceaseless hunger famines and starvation
Women dwindle in their reproductive capacity
Rarely will you come across a pregnant woman
Food will be difficulty to put on the table
Even the sweat of your brow will go to naught,
You will not be buried with insignia
Like a pauper you killed will you be buried
The house of your wife Khatembete Kho Bwibo
Khakhalikha no bwoya is a house of no consequences
For even your daughter Nalukosi stands cursed
She will not mature to be wedded into a marriage
She will hover the earth under heavy agonies of hunger,
My assignment is done and over
With or without your permission let me go.









THE FIRST SONG
Our song continues dear brethren
Come join me in arms we sing
Joyous singing of these songs of peace
Telling the world peaceful stories
As we enjoy sitting together around my grandmothers fire yard
Warming our selves to her lovely fire inherent in her good stories,
These songs will sing the glory and success of the king of Manani
It is an irregular Ode to Silinki wa Namunguba the son of Mwangani,
The son of Tunduli, the son of Wajala Njovu, the son of Welikhe, the son
Of manyorori, the son of Chumbe, the son of Kajo, the Son of Mabati, the son of welotia,
The son of sikele sia mulia, the son of Toywa,the son of siruju, the son of Mango, the son of Mulwoni sinyanya Bakhasi, the son of Mbakara , the son of Makhakara wa Nambuya, the son of Mukoye mulala kukhalikha w0nga, the son of Zumba the son of God.
Silinki
Well, as you say, we live for small horizons:
We move in crowds, we flow and talk together,
Seeing so many eyes and hands and faces,
So many mouths, and all with secret meanings,--
Yet know so little of them; only seeing
The small bright circle of our consciousness,
Beyond which lies the dark.  Some few we know--
Or think we know. . .  Once, on a sun-bright morning,
I walked in a certain hallway, trying to find
A certain door: I found one, tried it, opened,
And there in a spacious chamber, brightly lighted,
A hundred men played music, loudly, swiftly,
While one tall woman sent her voice above them
In powerful sweetness. . . Closing then the door
I heard it die behind me, fade to whisper,--
And walked in a quiet hallway as before.
Just such a glimpse, as through that opened door,
Is all we know of those we call our friends. . . .
We hear a sudden music, see a playing
Of ordered thoughts--and all again is silence.
The music, we suppose, (as in ourselves)
Goes on forever there, behind shut doors,--
As it continues after our departure,
So, we divine, it played before we came . . .
What do you know of me, or I of you? . . .
Little enough. . . We set these doors ajar
Only for chosen movements of the music:
This passage, (so I think--yet this is guesswork)
Will please him,--it is in a strain he fancies,--
More brilliant, though, than his; and while he likes it
He will be piqued . . . He looks at me bewildered
And thinks (to judge from self--this too is guesswork)

The music strangely subtle, deep in meaning,
Perplexed with implications; he suspects me
Of hidden riches, unexpected wisdom. . . .
Or else I let him hear a lyric passage,--
Simple and clear; and all the while he listens
I make pretence to think my doors are closed.
This too bewilders him.  He eyes me sidelong
Wondering 'Is he such a fool as this?
Or only mocking?'--There I let it end. . . .
Sometimes, of course, and when we least suspect it--
When we pursue our thoughts with too much passion,
Talking with too great zeal--our doors fly open
Without intention; and the hungry watcher
Stares at the feast, carries away our secrets,
And laughs. . . but this, for many counts, is seldom.
And for the most part we vouchsafe our friends,
Our lovers too, only such few clear notes
As we shall deem them likely to admire:
'Praise me for this' we say, or 'laugh at this,'
Or 'marvel at my candor'. . . all the while
Withholding what's most precious to ourselves,--
Some sinister depth of lust or fear or hatred,
The sombre note that gives the chord its power;
Or a white loveliness--if such we know--
Too much like fire to speak of without shame.

Well, this being so, and we who know it being
So curious about those well-locked houses,
The minds of those we know,--to enter softly,
And steal from floor to floor up shadowy stairways,
From room to quiet room, from wall to wall,
Breathing deliberately the very air,
Pressing our hands and nerves against warm darkness
To learn what ghosts are there,--
Suppose for once I set my doors wide open
And bid you in. . . Suppose I try to tell you
The secrets of this house, and how I live here;
Suppose I tell you who I am, in fact. . . .
Deceiving you--as far as I may know it--
Only so much as I deceive myself.

If you are clever you already see me
As one who moves forever in a cloud
Of warm bright vanity: a luminous cloud
Which falls on all things with a quivering magic,
Changing such outlines as a light may change,
Brightening what lies dark to me, concealing
Those things that will not change . . . I walk sustained
In a world of things that flatter me: a sky
Just as I would have had it; trees and grass
Just as I would have shaped and colored them;
Pigeons and clouds and sun and whirling shadows,
And stars that brightening climb through mist at nightfall,--
In some deep way I am aware these praise me:
Where they are beautiful, or hint of beauty,
They point, somehow, to me. . . This water says,--
Shimmering at the sky, or undulating
In broken gleaming parodies of clouds,
Rippled in blue, or sending from cool depths
To meet the falling leaf the leaf's clear image,--
This water says, there is some secret in you
Akin to my clear beauty, silently responsive
To all that circles you.  This bare tree says,--
Austere and stark and leafless, split with frost,
Resonant in the wind, with rigid branches
Flung out against the sky,--this tall tree says,
There is some cold austerity in you,
A frozen strength, with long roots gnarled on rocks,
Fertile and deep; you bide your time, are patient,
Serene in silence, bare to outward seeming,
Concealing what reserves of power and beauty!
What teeming Aprils!--chorus of leaves on leaves!
These houses say, such walls in walls as ours,
Such streets of walls, solid and smooth of surface,
Such hills and cities of walls, walls upon walls;
Motionless in the sun, or dark with rain;
Walls pierced with windows, where the light may enter;
Walls windowless where darkness is desired;
Towers and labyrinths and domes and chambers,--
Amazing deep recesses, dark on dark,--
All these are like the walls which shape your spirit:
You move, are warm, within them, laugh within them,
Proud of their depth and strength; or sally from them,
When you are bold, to blow great horns at the world
This deep cool room, with shadowed walls and ceiling,
Tranquil and cloistral, fragrant of my mind,
This cool room says,--just such a room have you,
It waits you always at the tops of stairways,
Withdrawn, remote, familiar to your uses,
Where you may cease pretence and be yourself. . . .
And this embroidery, hanging on this wall,
Hung there forever,--these so soundless glidings
Of dragons golden-scaled, sheer birds of azure,
Coilings of leaves in pale vermilion, griffins
Drawing their rainbow wings through involutions
Of mauve chrysanthemums and lotus flowers,--
This goblin wood where someone cries enchantment,--
This says, just such an involuted beauty
Of thought and coiling thought, dream linked with dream,
Image to image gliding, wreathing fires,
Soundlessly cries enchantment in your mind:
You need but sit and close your eyes a moment
To see these deep designs unfold themselves.

And so, all things discern me, name me, praise me--
I walk in a world of silent voices, praising;
And in this world you see me like a wraith
Blown softly here and there, on silent winds.
'Praise me'--I say; and look, not in a glass,
But in your eyes, to see my image there--
Or in your mind; you smile, I am contented;
You look at me, with interest unfeigned,
And listen--I am pleased; or else, alone,
I watch thin bubbles veering brightly upward
From unknown depths,--my silver thoughts ascending;
Saying now this, now that, hinting of all things,--
Dreams, and desires, velleities, regrets,
Faint ghosts of memory, strange recognitions,--
But all with one deep meaning: this is I,
This is the glistening secret holy I,
This silver-winged wonder, insubstantial,
This singing ghost. . . And hearing, I am warmed.

     *     *     *     *     *

You see me moving, then, as one who moves
Forever at the centre of his circle:
A circle filled with light.  And into it
Come bulging shapes from darkness, loom gigantic,
Or huddle in dark again. . . A clock ticks clearly,
A gas-jet steadily whirs, light streams across me;
Two church bells, with alternate beat, strike nine;
And through these things my pencil pushes softly
To weave grey webs of lines on this clear page.
Snow falls and melts; the eaves make liquid music;
Black wheel-tracks line the snow-touched street; I turn
And look one instant at the half-dark gardens,
Where skeleton elm-trees reach with frozen gesture
Above unsteady lamps,--with black boughs flung
Against a luminous snow-filled grey-gold sky.
'Beauty!' I cry. . . My feet move on, and take me
Between dark walls, with orange squares for windows.
Beauty; beheld like someone half-forgotten,
Remembered, with slow pang, as one neglected . . .
Well, I am frustrate; life has beaten me,
The thing I strongly seized has turned to darkness,
And darkness rides my heart. . . These skeleton elm-trees--
Leaning against that grey-gold snow filled sky--
Beauty! they say, and at the edge of darkness
Extend vain arms in a frozen gesture of protest . . .
A clock ticks softly; a gas-jet steadily whirs:
The pencil meets its shadow upon clear paper,
Voices are raised, a door is slammed.  The lovers,
Murmuring in an adjacent room, grow silent,
The eaves make liquid music. . . Hours have passed,
And nothing changes, and everything is changed.
Exultation is dead, Beauty is harlot,--
And walks the streets.  The thing I strongly seized
Has turned to darkness, and darkness rides my heart.

If you could solve this darkness you would have me.
This causeless melancholy that comes with rain,
Or on such days as this when large wet snowflakes
Drop heavily, with rain . . . whence rises this?
Well, so-and-so, this morning when I saw him,
Seemed much preoccupied, and would not smile;
And you, I saw too much; and you, too little;
And the word I chose for you, the golden word,
The word that should have struck so deep in purpose,
And set so many doors of wish wide open,
You let it fall, and would not stoop for it,
And smiled at me, and would not let me guess
Whether you saw it fall. . . These things, together,
With other things, still slighter, wove to music,
And this in time drew up dark memories;
And there I stand.  This music breaks and bleeds me,
Turning all frustrate dreams to chords and discords,
Faces and griefs, and words, and sunlit evenings,
And chains self-forged that will not break nor lengthen,
And cries that none can answer, few will hear.
Have these things meaning?  Or would you see more clearly
If I should say 'My second wife grows tedious,
Or, like gay tulip, keeps no perfumed secret'?

Or 'one day dies eventless as another,
Leaving the seeker still unsatisfied,
And more convinced life yields no satisfaction'?
Or 'seek too hard, the sight at length grows callous,
And beauty shines in vain'?--

                                These things you ask for,
These you shall have. . . So, talking with my first wife,
At the dark end of evening, when she leaned
And smiled at me, with blue eyes weaving webs
Of finest fire, revolving me in scarlet,--
Calling to mind remote and small successions
Of countless other evenings ending so,--
I smiled, and met her kiss, and wished her dead;
Dead of a sudden sickness, or by my hands
Savagely killed; I saw her in her coffin,
I saw her coffin borne downstairs with trouble,
I saw myself alone there, palely watching,
Wearing a masque of grief so deeply acted
That grief itself possessed me.  Time would pass,
And I should meet this girl,--my second wife--
And drop the masque of grief for one of passion.
Forward we move to meet, half hesitating,
We drown in each others' eyes, we laugh, we talk,
Looking now here, now there, faintly pretending
We do not hear the powerful pulsing prelude
Roaring beneath our words . . . The time approaches.
We lean unbalanced.  The mute last glance between us,
Profoundly searching, opening, asking, yielding,
Is steadily met: our two lives draw together . . .
. . . .'What are you thinking of?'. . . My first wife's voice
Scattered these ghosts.  'Oh nothing--nothing much--
Just wondering where we'd be two years from now,
And what we might be doing . . . ' And then remorse
Turned sharply in my mind to sudden pity,
And pity to echoed love.  And one more evening
Drew to the usual end of sleep and silence.

And, as it is with this, so too with all things.
The pages of our lives are blurred palimpsest:
New lines are wreathed on old lines half-erased,
And those on older still; and so forever.
The old shines through the new, and colors it.
What's new?  What's old?  All things have double meanings,--
All things return.  I write a line with passion
(Or touch a woman's hand, or plumb a doctrine)
Only to find the same thing, done before,--
Only to know the same thing comes to-morrow. . . .
This curious riddled dream I dreamed last night,--
Six years ago I dreamed it just as now;
The same man stooped to me; we rose from darkness,
And broke the accustomed order of our days,
And struck for the morning world, and warmth, and freedom. . . .
What does it mean?  Why is this hint repeated?
What darkness does it spring from, seek to end?

You see me, then, pass up and down these stairways,
Now through a beam of light, and now through shadow,--
Pursuing silent ends.  No rest there is,--
No more for me than you.  I move here always,
From quiet room to room, from wall to wall,
Searching and plotting, weaving a web of days.
This is my house, and now, perhaps, you know me. . .
Yet I confess, for all my best intentions,
Once more I have deceived you. . . I withhold
The one thing precious, the one dark thing that guides me;
And I have spread two snares for you, of lies.
PtAnand Ji Sep 2015
Pt. Anand Ji A To Z Problem Solution 72 Hours And With 100% Guaranteed. 45 EXPERCANCE  With In Astrology Systematic Call To Guru Ji +91-8239810997 And Get Advice From Him. Any Problem In Mobile +91-8239810997  Constructive and benevolent astrology and vashikaran have been found to be highly effective for bringing about trouble-free, happy, and duly harmonious inter-caste love marriages. Such love inter caste marriages have been easily effected in large numbers through highly elegant and miraculous services of our world-famous astrologer and vashikaran specialist of India, in countries of the world over. This webpage offers very fertile and beneficial information exclusively about the astrology and vashikaran services of our world-renowned astrologer Pt.Anand Ji for bringing about happy, hassle-free, and peaceful inter-caste love marriages in any desired country of the world.

Not only love marriages or inter-caste love marriages, our mellow and innovative guru ji have been handling expertly diverse problems related with almost all other spheres of life, for trouble-free, happy, and peaceful lives of people worldwide. To know about his services and solutions to these various spheres of the personal, familial, professional, commercial, and social life,  of this globally eminent astrology and vashikaran, he is also well-versed in the sciences and therapies like hypnotism, psychic readings, reiki, removal of negative black magic, voodoo, vastu, curing gemstones, etc. This wide-ranging erudition, decades-long service-experience in these fields, worldwide reputation and popularity, and an array of magnificent recognitions and awards, all contribute to his ever-growing repute and popularity in India and countries all across the whole world INTERNATIONAL SERVICE WITH GUARANTEE POWERFUL LOVE ASTROLOGER Anand Ji FROMPUSKARJI RAJASTHAN 45 EXPERCANCE  ALL PROBLEM SOLUTION BY SADHANA Hello can u disturb in your life problems and not get desire results? Here is the solution of all problems like as follow:- := love marriage := Business problemsolution := Problem in husband wife := Foreign traveling := Problem in study := Problem as childless := Physical problem := Problem in family relations := problem in your love := Willful marriage := Promotions our wised love back all solutions in your life within 72 hours and with 100% guaranteed. With in astrology systematic call to guru ji and get advice from him. Any problemsin Mobile :+91-8239810997 WORLD NO. 1 FAMOUS GURU ASTROLOGER/INDIA /West Bengal OMAN Cape town canada america Usa in Ontario , Toronto Kuwait , Qatar , Doha , Saudi Arabia , San Francisco Singapore , Italy , Germany , Paris , Belgium, France , Berlin , Spain UK, USA, AUSTRALIA, UAE, DUABI, CANADA, Sydney,ENGLAND,united kingdom,SINGAPORE, NEWZEALAND, GERMANY, ITLY, MALASIYA,Abu dhabi London IN New York kuwait SouthAfrica,South Korea,Thailand Qatar,England,Queens California HongKong Japan Brazil
More info visit my Website... http://www.thelovevashikaran.com/........
Email........ pt.anandji@gmail.com........
Contact us...+91-8239810997.........
William A Poppen Mar 2018
Tonight is a cluster of
Recognitions, remembrances
Mostly reminiscence
Which sift in the breeze
Gusting beneath the temporary
Tarpaulin tent

Backs are slapped
Arms embraced
Smiles predominate
As shiny faces and gleaming  foreheads
Illuminated by flashing cameras
Twinkle like fireflies displaying
In a muggy June meadow

Photos pulled from stained
Billfolds move from hand to hand
Displaying glossies of babies, graduations
Weddings and “The big catch”

Relatives, friends and officials
Find their place on folded metal chairs
For a wedding ceremony

Tonight has become a gathering
Marriage planned for tonight
i wish to touch the bits of you that endure my dirt.
i wish
more than ever the shape of your face in the curve of my long and twisted fingers.
there's something about it that make my hands
okay to look at again.
like they may have a found a fitful purpose, caressing the demon mouth
that kisses my angel teeth,
residing underneath
my loved lips
that send trips
to your words.
they encase your bright
eyes
and devour the confidence left in them.
but what i meant
to say was, i see your bright
eyes
showing fight to the fence
that you build so high.
i can see the lies shine
like a light was tied ,
just for me to breach them.
just so i could teach them,
you are one to beat them.
even though its you who seeds them.

emitting the aroma of tainted goodness and its all
okay
because of the eutony of this all.
these words can break my fall.
if i make the call,
and summon the space,
my soul
will come and take the place
of the weak face
i can no longer
sonder,
anymore in the background of your filled up recognitions.

there's
no
space
for
my
sad
face.
there's
no
place
for
my
heart
ache.

sent into solivagance.

this is a dark red redamancy,
one of a curse.
the birth
of our breakage
started at the first
touch of a sacred
unto a scarred soul.
and she cried
finding nothing but an empty black hole,
in return. forever churned
in a lustuous magnetism.
a
love prison.

its something that buries itself
beneath all the logic in my heart,
creeping from underneath my sins.
its some kind of wonder,
beckoning the birth rights
of every death in my future.

[ it's some kind of mutual case of kalopsia. ]

Of all the questions that beg my being,
why do my fingers still only look straight
when they're resting on your rigid face ?
mizpah::the.emotional.bond.between.people.who.are.separated.either.physically.or.by.death.
eutony::the.pleasantness.of.the.sound.of.a.word.
solivigant::wandering.alone.
redamancy::loving.the.one.who.loves.you.a.love.returned.in.full.circle.
kalopsia::the.delusion.of.things.being.more.beautiful.than.they.really.are.
PtAnand Ji Sep 2015
Pt. Anand Ji A To Z Problem Solution 72 Hours And With 100% Guaranteed. 45 EXPERCANCE  With In Astrology Systematic Call To Guru Ji +91-8239810997 And Get Advice From Him. Any Problem In Mobile +91-8239810997  Constructive and benevolent astrology and vashikaran have been found to be highly effective for bringing about trouble-free, happy, and duly harmonious inter-caste love marriages. Such love inter caste marriages have been easily effected in large numbers through highly elegant and miraculous services of our world-famous astrologer and vashikaran specialist of India, in countries of the world over. This webpage offers very fertile and beneficial information exclusively about the astrology and vashikaran services of our world-renowned astrologer Pt.Anand Ji for bringing about happy, hassle-free, and peaceful inter-caste love marriages in any desired country of the world.

Not only love marriages or inter-caste love marriages, our mellow and innovative guru ji have been handling expertly diverse problems related with almost all other spheres of life, for trouble-free, happy, and peaceful lives of people worldwide. To know about his services and solutions to these various spheres of the personal, familial, professional, commercial, and social life,  of this globally eminent astrology and vashikaran, he is also well-versed in the sciences and therapies like hypnotism, psychic readings, reiki, removal of negative black magic, voodoo, vastu, curing gemstones, etc. This wide-ranging erudition, decades-long service-experience in these fields, worldwide reputation and popularity, and an array of magnificent recognitions and awards, all contribute to his ever-growing repute and popularity in India and countries all across the whole world INTERNATIONAL SERVICE WITH GUARANTEE POWERFUL LOVE ASTROLOGER Anand Ji FROMPUSKARJI RAJASTHAN 45 EXPERCANCE  ALL PROBLEM SOLUTION BY SADHANA Hello can u disturb in your life problems and not get desire results? Here is the solution of all problems like as follow:- := love marriage := Business problemsolution := Problem in husband wife := Foreign traveling := Problem in study := Problem as childless := Physical problem := Problem in family relations := problem in your love := Willful marriage := Promotions our wised love back all solutions in your life within 72 hours and with 100% guaranteed. With in astrology systematic call to guru ji and get advice from him. Any problemsin Mobile :+91-8239810997 WORLD NO. 1 FAMOUS GURU ASTROLOGER/INDIA /West Bengal OMAN Cape town canada america Usa in Ontario , Toronto Kuwait , Qatar , Doha , Saudi Arabia , San Francisco Singapore , Italy , Germany , Paris , Belgium, France , Berlin , Spain UK, USA, AUSTRALIA, UAE, DUABI, CANADA, Sydney,ENGLAND,united kingdom,SINGAPORE, NEWZEALAND, GERMANY, ITLY, MALASIYA,Abu dhabi London IN New York kuwait SouthAfrica,South Korea,Thailand Qatar,England,Queens California HongKong Japan Brazil
More info visit my Website... http://www.thelovevashikaran.com/........
Email........ pt.anandji@gmail.com........
Contact us...+91-8239810997.........
CharlesC Jun 2012
a family album
perhaps especially
or happenstance discovery..
breathless vistas
seashore places
evening laughter gatherings
stark recognitions not
mistaken..
precision abiding..

and then
sudden emergences from
nowhere..
habitual viewing torn
prompting new explorations
awakening patterns unseen..
iceberg revelations
now realizing our settling
assumptions
deceptions and unexpected
origins..
other slices
parabolic mysteries
left and right..
perfect picture now..?
PtAnand Ji Sep 2015
Pt. Anand Ji A To Z Problem Solution 72 Hours And With 100% Guaranteed. 45 EXPERCANCE  With In Astrology Systematic Call To Guru Ji +91-8239810997 And Get Advice From Him. Any Problem In Mobile +91-8239810997  Constructive and benevolent astrology and vashikaran have been found to be highly effective for bringing about trouble-free, happy, and duly harmonious inter-caste love marriages. Such love inter caste marriages have been easily effected in large numbers through highly elegant and miraculous services of our world-famous astrologer and vashikaran specialist of India, in countries of the world over. This webpage offers very fertile and beneficial information exclusively about the astrology and vashikaran services of our world-renowned astrologer Pt.Anand Ji for bringing about happy, hassle-free, and peaceful inter-caste love marriages in any desired country of the world.

Not only love marriages or inter-caste love marriages, our mellow and innovative guru ji have been handling expertly diverse problems related with almost all other spheres of life, for trouble-free, happy, and peaceful lives of people worldwide. To know about his services and solutions to these various spheres of the personal, familial, professional, commercial, and social life,  of this globally eminent astrology and vashikaran, he is also well-versed in the sciences and therapies like hypnotism, psychic readings, reiki, removal of negative black magic, voodoo, vastu, curing gemstones, etc. This wide-ranging erudition, decades-long service-experience in these fields, worldwide reputation and popularity, and an array of magnificent recognitions and awards, all contribute to his ever-growing repute and popularity in India and countries all across the whole world INTERNATIONAL SERVICE WITH GUARANTEE POWERFUL LOVE ASTROLOGER Anand Ji FROMPUSKARJI RAJASTHAN 45 EXPERCANCE  ALL PROBLEM SOLUTION BY SADHANA Hello can u disturb in your life problems and not get desire results? Here is the solution of all problems like as follow:- := love marriage := Business problemsolution := Problem in husband wife := Foreign traveling := Problem in study := Problem as childless := Physical problem := Problem in family relations := problem in your love := Willful marriage := Promotions our wised love back all solutions in your life within 72 hours and with 100% guaranteed. With in astrology systematic call to guru ji and get advice from him. Any problemsin Mobile :+91-8239810997 WORLD NO. 1 FAMOUS GURU ASTROLOGER/INDIA /West Bengal OMAN Cape town canada america Usa in Ontario , Toronto Kuwait , Qatar , Doha , Saudi Arabia , San Francisco Singapore , Italy , Germany , Paris , Belgium, France , Berlin , Spain UK, USA, AUSTRALIA, UAE, DUABI, CANADA, Sydney,ENGLAND,united kingdom,SINGAPORE, NEWZEALAND, GERMANY, ITLY, MALASIYA,Abu dhabi London IN New York kuwait SouthAfrica,South Korea,Thailand Qatar,England,Queens California HongKong Japan Brazil
More info visit my Website... http://www.thelovevashikaran.com/........
Email........ pt.anandji@gmail.com........
Contact us...+91-8239810997.........
PtAnand Ji Sep 2015
Pt. Anand Ji A To Z Problem Solution 72 Hours And With 100% Guaranteed. 45 EXPERCANCE  With In Astrology Systematic Call To Guru Ji +91-8239810997 And Get Advice From Him. Any Problem In Mobile +91-8239810997  Constructive and benevolent astrology and vashikaran have been found to be highly effective for bringing about trouble-free, happy, and duly harmonious inter-caste love marriages. Such love inter caste marriages have been easily effected in large numbers through highly elegant and miraculous services of our world-famous astrologer and vashikaran specialist of India, in countries of the world over. This webpage offers very fertile and beneficial information exclusively about the astrology and vashikaran services of our world-renowned astrologer Pt.Anand Ji for bringing about happy, hassle-free, and peaceful inter-caste love marriages in any desired country of the world.

Not only love marriages or inter-caste love marriages, our mellow and innovative guru ji have been handling expertly diverse problems related with almost all other spheres of life, for trouble-free, happy, and peaceful lives of people worldwide. To know about his services and solutions to these various spheres of the personal, familial, professional, commercial, and social life,  of this globally eminent astrology and vashikaran, he is also well-versed in the sciences and therapies like hypnotism, psychic readings, reiki, removal of negative black magic, voodoo, vastu, curing gemstones, etc. This wide-ranging erudition, decades-long service-experience in these fields, worldwide reputation and popularity, and an array of magnificent recognitions and awards, all contribute to his ever-growing repute and popularity in India and countries all across the whole world INTERNATIONAL SERVICE WITH GUARANTEE POWERFUL LOVE ASTROLOGER Anand Ji FROMPUSKARJI RAJASTHAN 45 EXPERCANCE  ALL PROBLEM SOLUTION BY SADHANA Hello can u disturb in your life problems and not get desire results? Here is the solution of all problems like as follow:- := love marriage := Business problemsolution := Problem in husband wife := Foreign traveling := Problem in study := Problem as childless := Physical problem := Problem in family relations := problem in your love := Willful marriage := Promotions our wised love back all solutions in your life within 72 hours and with 100% guaranteed. With in astrology systematic call to guru ji and get advice from him. Any problemsin Mobile :+91-8239810997 WORLD NO. 1 FAMOUS GURU ASTROLOGER/INDIA /West Bengal OMAN Cape town canada america Usa in Ontario , Toronto Kuwait , Qatar , Doha , Saudi Arabia , San Francisco Singapore , Italy , Germany , Paris , Belgium, France , Berlin , Spain UK, USA, AUSTRALIA, UAE, DUABI, CANADA, Sydney,ENGLAND,united kingdom,SINGAPORE, NEWZEALAND, GERMANY, ITLY, MALASIYA,Abu dhabi London IN New York kuwait SouthAfrica,South Korea,Thailand Qatar,England,Queens California HongKong Japan Brazil
More info visit my Website... http://www.thelovevashikaran.com/........
Email........ pt.anandji@gmail.com........
Contact us...+91-8239810997.........
When I first learned how to read
When I got wounds and bruises
When other students bullied me
When my friends turned their backs on me
When I fell in love and got my first broken heart
My birthdays, recognitions, graduations, and family days
these are some of the times
When I needed a hug,
a pat in the back,
my Superman,
a Doctor,
A best friend
Someone to say "Congratulations! and i am proud of you."
Someone who is my father
But you were not even there.
It seems like you don't care.
I don't have enough courage to tell this to him so I just wrote a poem for him. I just wanna tell him that all I need is for him to tell me that he loves me and give me a little importance. Is that too much to ask? I love you Pa, but I am hurt.
Never, NEVER, walk into your kitchen hallucinating.  
Seeing things beyond being,
things beyond believing,
that defy common meaning.

I was so high my bed should've been traced in chalk,
And I heard each object in my the kitchen begin to talk.

I heard a rumble downstairs so that's where I toured,
I heard voices raised in my cutlery drawers!
I pulled on the ****,
dropped off my jaw.
In sheer surprise of what my eyes had seen inside.

I must be insane, in this tale it's confirmed.
Because it was perfect English each word that I heard.

The knife spoke up first he said
"I'm the sharpest!
I stab, cut or divide each one of my targets.
You can hold me by the handle and feel safe at that end,
but my nasty side has seen your enemies and your friends.
I've helped men to rise and with that seen men fall,
But it's my job to cause damage so I dismiss it all.
Who am I to try to define my own purpose?
When the edge I've been given is always ready for service.  
I've cut through flora and flesh all my life.
It's what I'm made to do,
and you can ask any of the others if it's true."

"It is true,"
Said the fork
"destruction is all he's been through,
and between us two
most men bite off more than they can chew.
And I don't mean just food.
I've seen it all.
I've seen the trees of greed
grow tall from hates seed.
Need be, I stab like the blade
but I'm a different shade,
of this please have no doubt.
I'm about filling voids of need
helping humans to feed
getting the food from the table to mouth.
So I just move in and out trying to avoid most of the gloom,
you want to hear of misery then you should talk to the spoon."

"I'm such a well rounded fellow!"
The spoon then declared.
"So it seems so unfair
that I've witnessed such despair.  
I'm deeper than the circles in eyes of my admirers,
who fill me up with drugs and then throw me over fires.
They're arms wrapped with wires, I work daily with the syringe,
and this is never something casual but always on a binge.
It leaves me burnt and abused,
a path I would never choose.
But, I suppose that's why they call those who burn me users,
honestly it's a string of good men turned to losers.  
So here you see us lay, the tools for mans feed.
How some men we never see occupied with others greed.
So take heed to these words: The enemy is your own kind.
We simply serve to put things inside the mouths grind.
So no longer stay blind, speak up with your voice,
tell the world how we're slaves we perform without choice!"

So... I screamed out "You know what spoon? I WILL!"
And I know its crazy, my mind is insane - utterly.
But, I made a promise that night, to that cutlery.
So here I am a man of ...arguably sound mind,
asking for some of your ...arguably valuable time.
To listen to the woes of those treated unfair,
who's use is in constant but recognitions are rare.
So try to realize in your minds if you dare,
that we don't know as much about life as **our own silverware.
Five years have past; five summers, with the length
Of five long winters! and again I hear
These waters, rolling from their mountain-springs
With a soft inland murmur.—Once again
Do I behold these steep and lofty cliffs,
That on a wild secluded scene impress
Thoughts of more deep seclusion; and connect
The landscape with the quiet of the sky.
The day is come when I again repose
Here, under this dark sycamore, and view
These plots of cottage-ground, these orchard-tufts,
Which at this season, with their unripe fruits,
Are clad in one green hue, and lose themselves
’Mid groves and copses. Once again I see
These hedge-rows, hardly hedge-rows, little lines
Of sportive wood run wild: these pastoral farms,
Green to the very door; and wreaths of smoke
Sent up, in silence, from among the trees!
With some uncertain notice, as might seem
Of vagrant dwellers in the houseless woods,
Or of some Hermit’s cave, where by his fire
The Hermit sits alone.

                                        These beauteous forms,
Through a long absence, have not been to me
As is a landscape to a blind man’s eye:
But oft, in lonely rooms, and ’mid the din
Of towns and cities, I have owed to them,
In hours of weariness, sensations sweet,
Felt in the blood, and felt along the heart;
And passing even into my purer mind
With tranquil restoration:—feelings too
Of unremembered pleasure: such, perhaps,
As have no slight or trivial influence
On that best portion of a good man’s life,
His little, nameless, unremembered, acts
Of kindness and of love. Nor less, I trust,
To them I may have owed another gift,
Of aspect more sublime; that blessed mood,
In which the burthen of the mystery,
In which the heavy and the weary weight
Of all this unintelligible world,
Is lightened:—that serene and blessed mood,
In which the affections gently lead us on,—
Until, the breath of this corporeal frame
And even the motion of our human blood
Almost suspended, we are laid asleep
In body, and become a living soul:
While with an eye made quiet by the power
Of harmony, and the deep power of joy,
We see into the life of things.

                                                    If this
Be but a vain belief, yet, oh! how oft—
In darkness and amid the many shapes
Of joyless daylight; when the fretful stir
Unprofitable, and the fever of the world,
Have hung upon the beatings of my heart—
How oft, in spirit, have I turned to thee,
O sylvan Wye! thou wanderer thro’ the woods,
      How often has my spirit turned to thee!

  And now, with gleams of half-extinguished thought,
With many recognitions dim and faint,
And somewhat of a sad perplexity,
The picture of the mind revives again:
While here I stand, not only with the sense
Of present pleasure, but with pleasing thoughts
That in this moment there is life and food
For future years. And so I dare to hope,
Though changed, no doubt, from what I was when first
I came among these hills; when like a roe
I bounded o’er the mountains, by the sides
Of the deep rivers, and the lonely streams,
Wherever nature led: more like a man
Flying from something that he dreads, than one
Who sought the thing he loved. For nature then
(The coarser pleasures of my boyish days
And their glad animal movements all gone by)
To me was all in all.—I cannot paint
What then I was. The sounding cataract
Haunted me like a passion: the tall rock,
The mountain, and the deep and gloomy wood,
Their colours and their forms, were then to me
An appetite; a feeling and a love,
That had no need of a remoter charm,
By thought supplied, not any interest
Unborrowed from the eye.—That time is past,
And all its aching joys are now no more,
And all its dizzy raptures. Not for this
Faint I, nor mourn nor murmur; other gifts
Have followed; for such loss, I would believe,
Abundant recompense. For I have learned
To look on nature, not as in the hour
Of thoughtless youth; but hearing oftentimes
The still sad music of humanity,
Nor harsh nor grating, though of ample power
To chasten and subdue.—And I have felt
A presence that disturbs me with the joy
Of elevated thoughts; a sense sublime
Of something far more deeply interfused,
Whose dwelling is the light of setting suns,
And the round ocean and the living air,
And the blue sky, and in the mind of man:
A motion and a spirit, that impels
All thinking things, all objects of all thought,
And rolls through all things. Therefore am I still
A lover of the meadows and the woods
And mountains; and of all that we behold
From this green earth; of all the mighty world
Of eye, and ear,—both what they half create,
And what perceive; well pleased to recognise
In nature and the language of the sense
The anchor of my purest thoughts, the nurse,
The guide, the guardian of my heart, and soul
Of all my moral being.

                                         Nor perchance,
If I were not thus taught, should I the more
Suffer my genial spirits to decay:
For thou art with me here upon the banks
Of this fair river; thou my dearest Friend,
My dear, dear Friend; and in thy voice I catch
The language of my former heart, and read
My former pleasures in the shooting lights
Of thy wild eyes. Oh! yet a little while
May I behold in thee what I was once,
My dear, dear Sister! and this prayer I make,
Knowing that Nature never did betray
The heart that loved her; ’tis her privilege,
Through all the years of this our life, to lead
From joy to joy: for she can so inform
The mind that is within us, so impress
With quietness and beauty, and so feed
With lofty thoughts, that neither evil tongues,
Rash judgments, nor the sneers of selfish men,
Nor greetings where no kindness is, nor all
The dreary ******* of daily life,
Shall e’er prevail against us, or disturb
Our cheerful faith, that all which we behold
Is full of blessings. Therefore let the moon
Shine on thee in thy solitary walk;
And let the misty mountain-winds be free
To blow against thee: and, in after years,
When these wild ecstasies shall be matured
Into a sober pleasure; when thy mind
Shall be a mansion for all lovely forms,
Thy memory be as a dwelling-place
For all sweet sounds and harmonies; oh! then,
If solitude, or fear, or pain, or grief,
Should be thy portion, with what healing thoughts
Of tender joy wilt thou remember me,
And these my exhortations! Nor, perchance—
If I should be where I no more can hear
Thy voice, nor catch from thy wild eyes these gleams
Of past existence—wilt thou then forget
That on the banks of this delightful stream
We stood together; and that I, so long
A worshipper of Nature, hither came
Unwearied in that service: rather say
With warmer love—oh! with far deeper zeal
Of holier love. Nor wilt thou then forget,
That after many wanderings, many years
Of absence, these steep woods and lofty cliffs,
And this green pastoral landscape, were to me
More dear, both for themselves and for thy sake!
The beauty of life isn't captured in files nor profiles.
It's in a blink or a thought of a distant place.
It lies in emotions that reminice of a time not yet spent.
It is a few seconds in a multiple uncaptured frames.
It lies in the ignored existence of composure.
It influences the untapped recognitions of appreciation.

The beauty of life is not about me showing or telling.
It's only about a few thoughts that inspire ambitions.
A few dreams that elevate fantasies.

The beauty of life is about me in a second painting a picture of elegant brush strokes,
the motion of the eye that composes a visual symphony,
it is an organised cluster of sounds that co-ordinates the performances of all other senses.
It is about leaving open a beat of the heart, only to fill it with the energies of the living.

The beauty of life isn't about searching for joy,
but learning from memories of both depression and tranquility.
It is about the heart losing weight,
the smile gaining width and height.

The beauty of life is about the value of sorrow depreciating.

For me it's about ploughing joy from seeds of madness,
or overturning a frown into a thing of beauty.
It's about dreams that don't need me to sleep and nightmares that have no back up files.

The beauty of life...

As much as I try to define it,
the statements always have a questionmark at the end.

So forever I search, for the beauty of life...
Deana Luna Dec 2013
lengthy
delayed decisions and recognitions from the wasted years. she looks and she does too and they do and he does. they look and try to find my substance. extract the core.
not much talking.
his sits on the floor away from him. turned away from him so he can't see it. and she looks directly at it. melts into my white blood cells//red.
blackandwhite nostalgia under christmas lights. another you. another you was here before. gone like the smoke from our cigarettes. we should stop this. smile and light me.
happy birthday princess. blah blah keeps talking.

these games are no fun. pass me the ***.
agdp Jan 2010
He manages to free his thoughts
as he gazes the television
for news from a distance,
while continuing to sample
his supper of rice,
and sauteed vegetables
on a aluminum serving plate.

The restaurant he owns
dimly lit this mid-afternoon
with ghostly lanterns,
and artistic impressions
of times past on the wall,
while customers
walk and gingerly pass
ordering from an eclectic
menu of indo-latin-euro-oriental cuisine.

A neapolitan of condiments
dancing among garlic chili sauce,
and mayonnaise.

Mahogany grained panel walls,
and formica woven
seats, uniformly
scattered among
porcelain white
plates; traditional.

Engraved Jade pieces
hung with colors of luck
on each entrance.

I approach the counter.
A sepia toned
picture of his family
hanging by his register
no first dollar bill
or recognitions.
Just family held,
through time,
as he hands me a check.
12/8/09 ©AGDP- From Human Elements
PtAnand Ji Sep 2015
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Eccedentesiast May 2015
With much pride, honor, and dignity,
We look back to our antiquity
We were once young seeds that cultivate
To become the best and ultimate

If we were once budding, blooming, and blossoming,
What more can you and I expect from what’s coming?
Paths are crossed once more to recognize and witness
The start from which we’re all of grace and wittiness

From Darwin, we have built the foundation of our dreams
Oh! Everything was exactly the way that it seems!
As I turned my vision to my left and to my right,
I saw a stunning sight which brought much joy and delight

Darwin is again number one!
A big banner read as I ran
It is a great honor for a Darwinian like me
For all these praises and recognitions I see

I clearly remember my best friend from the past
a woman with wisdom that is wide and vast
Anjealhet is now a famous disc jockey!
With outstanding skills, there’s no doubt she will be

She nurtured her skills in University of Santo Tomas
Graduated with flying colors and an A+
I knew that she will, I knew that she could
That in being a disc jockey, she would be good

Another guy, I know so well
In the field of medicine, he didn’t dwell
Instead, Henry became a computer engineer
His accolades gave him praises and cheer

He is now famous for his work
His love for computers does have a great perk
University of the Philippines helped him to achieve
He could be even greater, I believe

The best entrepreneur in town is Lance!
From University of Santo Tomas he received his diploma
He could market anything and everything
He is resilient from whatever the world can bring

He knows how to take risks and communicate well
Anything you give him, he could sell
He has a way with his words that is essential
And that is his biggest credential

Cyjay is a man with dignity and chivalry
And now, he is a medical doctor in military
In University of Santo Tomas, his skills were enhanced
From a doctor to a man of the country, he advanced

Being a military doctor shouldn’t be taken for granted
Because this is what he really wanted
His contribution to the community is significant
Because being in a war is a predicament

An entrepreneur is what Cheska decided to be
In Ateneo de Manila, she received her degree
She is known for the best market strategies
Methods, systems, and analogies

Her dedication for work is incomparable
Her conviction and determination is admirable
All around the world, she is known for being a tycoon
Surely she’ll become better, we’ll stay in tune

Jason is a man with fervor enthusiasm and eloquence
Who advocates that peace is the world’s essence
He is a strong individual who seeks for justice and integrity
Which drove him to become an ambassador who fights for equality

He graduated from Ateneo with multiple degrees
He’ll become even greater, I foresee
His dream of becoming the head of the UN General Assembly
Is a fantasy turned to reality

With my eagerness to become even greater
De La Salle University helped me to become better
I, Angeline, am now an accountant
In terms of money, I can become your consultant

With my skills in literature and finance,
Being an accountant and a writer, I have to balance
Now, I want to venture into teaching
For in my life, I want to find more meaning
LOL. Posting my book stuff. LOL at this really. :O
Zach Sanchez Feb 2011
Eyes that give
half recognitions
with almost
audible clicks
and the universal
amp that is
the human
ivory smile,
drives it home.
Deaf hands moving
with blunt precision,
fumbling for alarm
clocks, bra hooks,
chem notes and
silent red cups.
Doing essential jobs
that essentially
involve doing
nothing.
PEARL SMOKE Jan 2015
I Want To End My Life.
Right This minute.
I Don't Want To live anymore
I Don't See Me Worth Living.
I Don't See Any good in me.
I Don't Have Any accomplishments
Any Recognitions.
Im A Useless peace of trash
Just taking up space and Air
I Can't Handle My problems
Its to many
Im too much.
I Honestly just dont know anymore
There isnt a word to describe my mood right now
I just want to be dead right now
End it alll
Temporary Frouns
For My loved ones
Then
Long lasting smiles as the days continue on without my presence.
Manisha Uniyal Jul 2015
Art
is like worshiping god
With the purest of intention
Of surrendering to master
Pouring the love in the form of art as a mark of devotion
Art is melting oneself to the mould of the form
Lifting the soul to reach beyond the worldy consideration

Art is beauty in the eyes of the artist
It is love beyond comparison
It is promise unbreakable
It is the faith and believe of one's existence

No rewards and recognitions matter
When it's deeply pursued from heart
Love and devotion feeds the soul
When cherised in the form of art


Manisha
Basko Aug 2013
It was killed before it was tortured
nothing dead could be hurt they said
but what was hurt here was already dead
what had taken years and nurtured
you killed it, World
be cursed, and behold
sinner! here comes the night

And slowly does it strike
the spark of the stars
the final hours
i cry ******! ******!
and i dare you run
and see your conscience be a deserter
And i shall give a death not from a gun
neither a blade for the matter
but i shall ****

Vanquish your pride first
then end the thirst for your
recognitions so utterly desired
and **** your self
with the pelf
you killed mine
and in hopes of this the night shall dine
with your fears and resentment
while i shall feast in your fears
Here I come...
Ayelle Garcia Oct 2014
Done with the past,
Moving on to the present;
Fulfilling dreams
For a successful future.

Life’s not just a walk in the park,
It’s a threshold of obstacles;
My past was not a joke,
I bet hers as well.

She achieved recognitions,
Gained a lot of friends;
Met up with past friends
And even fell in love.

But all these changed
As time passed by.
Betrayals in the back,
A heart break tore her apart.

She was totally lost,
Got nowhere to go;
Just about to end her life
Until hope reached its hands.

Through true friends’ help,
She was revived and changed;
Life went back to its old way
With more achievements to boot.

She had buried the dying self
And brought herself back to life.
As the time had come,
She succeeded in flying colors.

Now, no more of this soul
That lingers in the past.
Now, here she is
At the best time of her life.
This was written after I joined CYA, a religious org in our school. Tells how I was able to get out of my "Great Depression" & of what was in store of me.
Mateuš Conrad May 2016
added to the fact that guns 'n' roses cite the Texan twang that can't be New Orleans in their song civil war from the album use your illusion pt. 2 from this film.

i play tricks with my father, rather i insinuate a strategy,
he's a worker of manual tedium,
we watch movies together and play the game:
what year, what actor, what other film was he in.
it paid off today... i sat watching *gentlemen prefer
blondes
, oh god the American Renaissance
between the 50s and 60s and all that poetry...
where normal women would be considered fat
by today's standards of beauty-torture -
those thighs! those legs! then i started watching
cool hand luke... the man spotted Dennis Hopper!
playing Babalugats... the madman, sing-along...
a truly broken man, with such a defence membrane
that he escaped reality altogether, not the sort
of reality that cool Luke tried escaping from by
stealing one truck and taking the keys from the other
vehicles of the chain-gang in the deep south...
Babalugats did the real escape, he went mad, he said:
**** it, give me the extinguisher of ego, i'm
in a burning building, scortch my insides but
leave me immune to the fire of labour and iron bars
and that ******* routine of prison life!
he truly did escape, his threshold for enduring pain
increased to the point that he purred, clocked a chicken
strut and fellow prisoners took a pity on him to
the point of protecting him... the thing is...
i didn't spot Dennis Hopper... my father did... finally
the game i was invoking when watching movies:
the odd reference here and there paid off, i turned
my father into looking for cinematic patterns,
face recognitions, because of his manual profession
and his abhorrence of reading anything but the newspaper:
visual tactic... i'm seriously about to cry, and to not
vocalise it i pinch my nose as if snorkelling and then
no sound is made but the tears flow...
the game paid off, he became better than me at the game
of face-to-face association... i'm guessing this was
Dennis Hopper's debut... well after Blue Velvet he made
a name for himself... but like my grandfather said:
it takes great skill to play a Dostoyevsky idiot...
imagine Rowan Atkinson playing Mr. Bean or
the Antichrist playing Jesus of Nazareth - antimatter
and quantum physics and all to boot as
the rational cinematography allowance for people to
stomach such an eventuality.
Onoma Jan 2021
the drawn parallels of birds...

their countercurrents of flow

colored, stark visibilities.

their patterns recognized against

blue seals being opened.

inherent flights always equidistant

to the distanceless, their lifelong calls...

nondifferential songs composed

by other lifelong calls.

an inmost vibration made common,

thus recognized...returned from

branches that fall and regrow.

as if pointing the way.
fray narte Sep 2019
When I meet the one, it won't feel like a
fairytale laureled with happy endings
walking out of a book and coming to life.
It won't be cherry-kisses and holding hands
while sky lanterns ascend from the ground.
When I meet the one, it won't be about that
"I know that they're the one" the moment our eyes meet;
it won't be it's-worth-writing-a-song-about kinda romantic.
When I meet the one, it won't at all be
about spark and fires
or skipping heartbeats
or slow-motions
or soul recognitions
or true love.

For meeting the one —
it's watching everything we had
collapse into a sinkhole of memories,
and down, down they go — each and every one we made.
Meeting the one —  it's walking away
and away and away, and risking a glance
at your fading silhouette
It's knowing you'll meet yours too,
and knowing it's not me.
Darling, it's coming to terms
with the thought that
the future we planned
is now reduced into a television blur
and spilled beers, drying up way too soon,
and in the end,
it might have been you.
It might have been me.
It might have been us.

And, that's all we'll ever be.
kirk May 2018
It's hard to pick one hero, for a true felt dedication
Fantastic people you all are, great words of inspiration
Choosing will be difficult, I may need my medication
The selection process is so hard, without the legislation

Let me see what I can do, I shouldn't really fidget
Big recognitions I would give, not like a little ******
My Daily Reading List I'd select, using a computer widget
A special girl that comes to mind, our leader known as Bridget

So very kind and beautiful, she's also known as shout
She keeps the group together, there's no shadow of a doubt
A very fair complexion, she's never down and out
All her words are supreme, a skill when shouts about

And then there is Syeda, well what can I say
Things would never be the same, if she every went away
Whenever she appears on screen, she's like a sunshine ray
Just like Bridget both of them, will brighten up your day

My main man he's quite a guy, the one who's known as Rick
His antics come second to none, he's one guy I would pick
He never gets too boring, or getting on your wick
Such a great fun fellow, who really is quite slick

So now we get to Devesh, he's a fantastic guy
When he's about the air is fresh, and he doesn't even try
Full of youthful knowledge, but he sometimes asks you why
Without you Dev lives would be plain, and a bit less high

A world without Maresa, I believe that I would quit
I don't want to be without her, not even a small bit
Such a charming lady, her sparkle makes a dull room lit
Without her presence, all our lives simply would not fit

A very distinguished fellow, is our Poet of Heart's
An excellent written quality, split into many different parts
For me his words of wisdom, will always top the charts
An accomplishment in many forms, including poet arts

Now there is quite a member, that makes me go ecstatic
Very pleasing to the soul, and so very charismatic
I'd love to say your excellent, your always so pragmatic
I think you may know who you are, of course it's Enigmatic

I get down to the music, but I'd fall just like a skittle
If we didn't have that crazy chic, that splendid Rock A Little
It wouldn't be a stable place, not meaning to sound fickle
We all need A Little Rock, or things would get too brittle

Our group would suffer a great loss, if we didn't have J C
Without him in the reading list, I don't know were we'd be
I know I speak for everyone, I know it's not just me
Everyone would be upset, coz J C A is nice to see

A gentleman of high regard, I just want you to know
Your a great guy I respect, I always will Pedro
With a personality so large, you have that certain glow
We all love it when your there, so don't you ever go

The voice of youths refreshing, It's not easy rhyming Rooster
Cogburn is your second name, I know it isn't Brewster
The music clips that you present, are such a happy booster
A clever poultry kind of guy, your just like Jeeves and Wooster

All the Roses that we have, such a lovely bunch flowers
Your beautiful fragrances emanate, a charm of beauties powers
I'm smitten by your intellect, I could talk to you for hours
A testament to poetry, hearts falling from high towers

Swathi, Mermaid and Imkahy, you set my heart on fire
You all shine like diamonds, like Pasiphea and Pure Dezire
Max, Melanie and Sooth, three souls that I admire
Heart's floating with Astrerai Goddess she's a beautiful high flyer

A dedication for the rest, that I didn't get to mention
I'm honoured by your presence, I hope your paying close attention
I wish to send you all my praise, this is my full intention
To all at the daily reading list, and any new extension

No one is less important, no one's better then the rest
You all deserve a mention, your all simply the best
Our group is quite fantastic, everyone has got the zest
So I'll honour every member, so please all be my guest

So many fantastic people, my head is in a mist
I'll always keep returning, because it's to hard too resist
Your all amazing writers, I hope you get the gist
All the people I admire, at My Daily Reading List
A Dedication to the poetry group My Daily Reading List
Ankit Dubey Mar 2019
Letter

What exactly do you want from me?" She asked tenderly. Her eyes searching mine for an answer, compelling me to break my silence.

Me? I don't know. I've said that enough through my eyes but if you want me to put it in words so I'll explain it in the most obvious way. I want you. Your attention and your time. It's not that I'm some crazy psychopath dying to get an eye from you. I'm just a splintered soul who finds his solace in you.
I want to be with you. Either in person or just clung to your thoughts. I want to wake up next to you, to see your serene face shrouded with dim morning sunlight. I want to wake you up everyday differently. I want to giggle around you and to see you giggle with me, to let your laugh echo in my room of silence, sedating my soul, letting me feel vibrant.

I want to cook with you without thinking about our bad cooking skills. I want to twirl around you sheepishly while trying a hand in cooking recipes that are way beyond my capabilities. I want to sing dramatic duets doing salsa on our kitchen floor. I want you to make faces on having my delicious food and appreciate my horrible cooking experiments to save me from getting dull.

I want to have a garden full of roses and lavenders to water it with you and then playfully want to get indulge into some water fight against the green grass. I want to see your wet face with perfect smile laughing girlishly to let my head imagine how beautiful you must have been in your teenage.
I want to have pets with you. I want you to hold my hands to make me learn how to play with them touching their fur and befriend them without running from them. I want you to entangle your fingers with mine while crossing roads where I can barely open my eyes. I want you to cover me in crowd. I want you to hold me right to let me know you care. I want you to respect my tears knowing this heart of mine is fatuously emotional.

I want to sleep peacefully against your heartbeat, giving rest to the storms of my head if only you know I'm an insomniac with millions of mood swings. I want to ***** about how my workplace ***** and then rest my head on your shoulder crying myself to sleep. I want you to cover me up when I throw blanket in midnight. I want you to rest your head against mine to let me feel your warmth while asleep to fight back each witching hour of darkness.
I want to explore the world with you. That never meant to go on trips that are beyond our financial potential. I want you to wake me up in midnight to take us on some adventurous roadtrips to explore the fun we've missed while living and running this futile race of life. I want to drive insanely to scare the hell out of you. To go on long walks in cities of no recognitions and unknown faces. I want to go on adventure sports with you. Hiking up the mountains, diving skies and waters. Hence plunging deep in the ocean of togetherness.

I want you to surprise me on my birthday at 12 when I'm least expecting it to be remembered by you. To see you sing a happy birthday song and realise how horrible your croaky voice sounds. Yet the butterflies in my tummy flutters to show how elated they're to found you. To just get cute notes over fridge, desk and tv saying how annoying I'm and yet how my presence makes you feel alive. I want to have intellectual conversations about love, life and future yet I want to suddenly turn the table towards lame dance numbers. Dancing with you till my feet ache and breathing gets shallow.

I want to unravel secrets you've been concealing from this utterly judgemental world. I want to sit on rooftop at 2 am with you talking about how life must've origined and why death is scary. Admiring stars, moon and chattering about galaxies. Foremostly I would like to get lost in the galaxy your deep eyes allure me of.
I want to watch some over the top emotional movie and end up curling in your lap crying my heart out. I want you to pat my back and tell me how it's just a movie and my dumb head need to fathom out the difference. I want you to startle me with bitter truths rather than soothing me with comforting lies.

I want to lend an ear to your pain and smile in your contentment, I just simply want to be with you, till my breathes last and to make you feel whole with me. Holding your hands, fighting, reasoning, laughing, blushing and living I'm just a young mind with an old heart, heart which may not necessarily believe in clichéd fairy tales but wants to feel that corny romance, romance that's beyond age and time, time that binds our hearts together to make our own little infinity, infinity that entwines our dark souls conjointly.

I just want to get old with you, that's all I want.
this is all what I ever want to say you whenever you asked me what I want from you
my dear love : shreya
Robert Guerrero Feb 2016
Error
ER...R...RRROR
Threat detected

Its eating away at the tissue
Within my skull
Developing thought and recognitions
To only one word
"Sorry"

Trojan Detected
Delete and Reboot
Error 4.67.B11.809C

How do you protect against an assault
To a dictionary with only one page
Capitalized in bolder print than tattoo ink
"Sorry"
Definition not recognized
What the hell happened to never caring
No longer letting others burden you
With whips and freight
Ox to this world begging for labor
I only have one word
When I **** up like I always do
"Sorry"

Please Restart
You Are In Danger
FILE CORRUPTED

There is no warning
When you become another broken dictionary
Left with one word
And a prayer that it all ends
Excuses begin to pile
Quarantine the problem
It never helps
Just begins a back log of information
Frying your brain quicker than flames on flesh
This life can't begin
If all I'll ever know is one word
With no worth
That couldn't buy me a tear to quench my thirst
Seher Seven Dec 2017
Some years ago,
in December, I died.
my breathing skipped, the blackness came in,
and I was dead.
in the next few instances, a few moments past,
I took my first breath, again.
the light returned, my son was born.

now...
before meeting him,
the days prior, I had yet to really see me.
I was living an identity, something taught over
me.
taught to me, molded on to me.
it never fit well.
the closest moments to this rebirth
were filled with these recognitions,
awakening to the parts I had shunned.
the magical parts.

December, the month of the star.
the month of the dark. The moments of death.
in some parts, no god light.
the stars show up, guiding our paths.
walking us to the grounds that
await our rest.
the parts that refresh things.
my energy has always known this depth,
where all goes to die.

that darkness was waiting for me,
captured in my womb,
waiting for me.
no moment before could I break free,
soaring took time.
the peace to be felt at that level of the light,
gliding side by side with the powers
of the sky.

they came alive that night,
the beginning of things,
the ending of things,
nines divine right.
circling until the next cycle ignites,
no fear for death,
proven it births light.

my son's eyes opened bright,
a baby lion's stare.
aware, prepared for the work.
they will keep coming forth,
the call is loud.
the womb is birthing warriors in the dark,
quietly, carefully plotting it out.
eyes are watching, careful now,
pull the dark out and allow it to
light the path of One.

pull it all out.
standing I gave birth
and I will not sit down except to
rest, steady now, following my heart.
Mgboafor, my mothers name.
Names of seasons to live and love
Her mate Nkwo the market
Recognizable had no fight for Eke
As Oye lies around the corner.
Season, season and seasons

Seasons of exchange and banter
Exchange to cherish and savour
What is Eke for Afor musses
As Nkwo do no reject entreaties
And Oye mingles with joy
What Afor, Nkwo and Eke shares and offeres.

Mgboafor, Mgboafor Mgbafor
Your mate Nkwo has long gone
As it never done on us
Her sayings and fears lingers:
Monday has replaced her
And Tuesday supplanted Eke
Oye weeps its exit for Wednesday
As Thursday has usurp Afor.

Your children mourns and groans
In the weight of Friday
To celebrate your exist
And  Saturday swallowed  up
Your caked frozen body to
Mother earth, Thanking God on Sunday
As another Monday hovers around.
Exchange in rounds and rounds
Movements in circles and circles in rounds.

Afor, left without notice
To join Nkwo her mate
Turning deaf hear to Ekes entreaties
And Oye exists in  oblivion
Completing   defiance and disappearance
Of ego and a people’s prides
Voiding recognitions for your children.
Who have traveled far and away

They sojourned in lands and places
You only heard and dream of Yesterday.  
Today the children toiled and labor
In ways you never imagined.
The years pass by the days rolls in
Seasons craws in and out
Your children labors in pain and tremor
In fashions and factions  
They toiled in torn cloths
Crowded by not just the people from faraway land
But contents and ideas never known and sold in our market.
They are crowded with wears Eke, Oye, Nkwo and Afor
Never sold and will never sale.

Mgbo-afor, Mgbo-oye, Mgbo-eke and Mgbo-nkwo
The celebrated names of our markets
Depicts our seasons of beauty and time
The beauty of our women and their wares
Admirable wares that flaunts and flatters the men
Wares that puts us on our toes and gaggles our inside:

Okafor,Okoye,Okonkwo and Okeke
Your male version who clogs around
Peeping your substance dreaming
Making joy of  your swinging buttocks as you walk pass
Farting and panting from the labour the night before.
Celebrating their exploits and conquest
Taking pride you belong to them only.


Okonkwo keeps his name not your ideal
For Mgbonkwo long lost her ordeal.
Okafor strives without its full form - Mgboafor.
Speed has overtaken Mgboeke as Okeke now wears torn cloths
Working and walking in torn ideas and concepts.
Mgboye long lost the arguments to Okoye
A mirage of our time
Living life abridge ideas like carcass.

Our men…..?
They no longer have strengths that
Gaggles Mgboafor’s likes and climes.
As no Virtues chides and glitters the face of  Mgbeke
No Tickles to defines Mgboye’s and Mgbonkwo's personalities.
For we now live in season of pity and regrets
Rounds and rounds in formless circles
No fashionable logic in today’s changing sphere.
The truth of  our logicday
Qualyxian Quest Jul 2019
again the 37
        I simply notice
                  hopeless POTUS
Nick Jan 2018
Under the Bridge, along the Promenade: we
walked with words trickling through our
waxy lips. Where the Seafront was all silk.
Where the Waxwings, sealed wax tips,
lumbered about the Empyrean yonder:
splayed upon a Canvas
of Sapphire and Azure.
Before the Starry Night has come.
Before we reached the Shore only to
Digress.
    "Liebe verleiht Flügel,"
I heard, or read in a Book.
The Streets are crimson rust;
The Spectators in Sanitariums watched
drab passersby. They shambled and
coughed admixt the crowded room, only
to find the Peristyle vacant and dead.
A Mantic Women, cards of dread,
stands on the corner; our
eyes catched, and She speaks:
    "Wo bist du?"
        "Wo bist du?"
            Louder and fists shaking:
    "Wo bist du?"
The buildings doddered, filled with
Cuscuta.
In Montauk, where we met, now withered,
covered in snow, I stood - my comportment
unsteady. Flashing in the distance I see
Point Light - Captain Kidd musing with his
Money Ponds - an Angel guiding wonderous
blights - The Recognitions, blimey,
Mr. Gaddis has gone blind - The Faustian
apotheosis abound -
The Streets are crimson rust
filled with dread.
Smelling of Jack-by-the-hedge -
I'm walking...
Noctivagant aura permeates -
Mich.
Alex Lewis Apr 2017
Devil unwary
Essential recognitions
Hours knock marketplace trash
Carnival unfortunate
Shipwreck pilgrims
Hellish wisdom never found in eggplant mush
nivek Apr 2017
the deep interweave of life and death
a hearts jump at recognitions core
the freedom writ inside your skin
to be and to be again freshly made
the nymph and the dragon flame
across still waters of the calm sacred
sacredness of your pink flesh exposed
let the Sun and wind feel your aliveness
dance while the Universe looks on
and be not afraid to die and to live
in a breaths all consuming mellow fire.
R Nov 2015
I’m in a life without a home, so this recognitions not enough.
Rolling Stone//The Weeknd
"I’ll be different
I think I’ll be different
I hope I’m not different"
Reward
To live in the misery of the past unable to let go
of childhood’s unhappiness but let it fester and
grow till adult life becomes unbearable, demands
of recognitions and compensations, because their
suffering must be taken up polished and with time
a jewel to show the world. This you owe us and we
deserve what you give us, although it will never be
enough even when the gem drowns in blood by those
who got in the way of the righteous path.
Never forgive or forget, let hatred be your leading star.

— The End —