"reuse" poems
The Saga of battle face off between Arjuna & Karna.
Karna gets the Naga ashtra from the Lord Brahma.
The Naga ashtra arrow is set to hit the target without miss.
Arjun Chariot is Guided by Lord Krishna.
Arjun & Karna face to battle for the survival for the supremacy
Battle of best in the Kurukshetra between karna & Arjun
Arjun is know as the Best in the Bow.
But while the situation is different with karna with Naga Ashtra arrow.
Force of Arrow from bow making huge noise of impact in the wind.
With every arrow from bow of both are hitting in the mid air & collapsing
Karna lefts the Arrow of Naga ashtra & prays the Slogan to be effective
Arjun no answer to the arrow of Naga
Keeps quite & focus towards Lord Krishna
Lord krishna smiling replies to bow
Arjuna replies with angry Iam an Hero & can face with my Bow.
Karna with Big laughter speeds the Arrow of Naga towards Arjun.
The Naga Ashtra is a Destruction weapon in the world.
Naga Ashtra targets the Head of the Arjuna
Lord Krishna pushes the chariot by his thumb towards down earth
Arrow of Naga is straight towards Arjuna Head.
Lord Krishna Commands to bow the head down
Arjuna does so the arrow is supposed to hit the head with out miss.
Arrow is will not stop without hitting head.
Karana is eager to celebrate the Victory of best in Kurushetra
Lord Krishna hears the sound of hitting head
& Turns to see the What happened?
Lord Krishna says yes the arrow hit the head
Arjuna replies Lord Iam safe
According to Shastra Naga Ashtra hit the Head of Chariot
Karana will not able to reuse the Ashtra of Naga
as it has hit the Head of Chariot.
By this Arjuna Leaps wider angle to arrow the Bow
& the Bow lands on Karana chest.
The Battle of Big is won by Arjun in the period of Kurushetra.
Yours
Shankar Pattabi
Aug 8, 2015
Aug 8, 2015 at 10:19 PM UTC
Happens every other day
Feelings of guilt as a wasteful being
Rearrange brain function
Monopolizing firing synapses
Recycle, reuse
Regurgitating, dull whitted infomercials
All wanting you to buy, buy, buy
Sure you could use another sharp knife
Maybe even a blender
On special now buy one get one free
A kitchen already full of utensils that you don't use
Caught up in McMonsantoland's corporate sponsorship
Frankenburgers all around
Cancer is the cure
Picking you off one by one
Genocide
Intelligence retardant children growing up in front of CIA bugged televisions
They know your patterns, habits, what makes you tick
Big Brother is watching all of you be enslaved
In the end your box will be numbered
Eight humans deep
Stacked high along the streets of America
Guiding the way to the ****** sunset of our existence
Mar 27, 2012
Mar 27, 2012 at 8:02 PM UTC
Writer's block is like a white stone wall.
Every failed poem in the trashcan is like a brick.
Soon, I'll have enough to rebuild the great wall of China,
and the garbage man will know
many trees have died for my poetry.
Take heed, only you can prevent forest fires.
Dec 1, 2014
Dec 1, 2014 at 9:42 PM UTC
emerald, olive, viridian
oh how you perplex me
forest, jade, chartreuse
why do you tease me so
cyan, verdigris, moss
such excitement arises
to be a word
to be a meaning
is there such a thing,
to have a feeling
to see a vision,
phthalo, pine, teal
are you the same
mint, myrtle, laurel
you make me envious
to be blooming, to be healthy
to be young, to be clumsy
are you callow, how about credulous?
but such a conservationist
unquestioning, so trustful,
tenderfoot and common
the tree, the lawn, the willow
though ecological and crude
a sage in all but name
apple, spinach, pea
aren't you scrumptious,
lime, kelly, bice
are you nature, how about luck
you're pungently rotten
though with such dark beauty and hope,
love and lust ensues
you're the jolliness of balance
and the creative intelligence;
of evil, and decay of money and safety,
will you resurrect me, are you immortality?
such jealousy arises
high goals and honor
so so allusive
healing and vitality
you're calming though fast
lush spring stability,
abundant generosity,
vert vegetation; witchcraft
an aphrodisiac I hear,
are you youth or fading youth?
sunrise and life, growth and fertility
sacred ideology,
eroticized though shameful
so romantic and humble
I see the third ray
or is the the fifth ray, the third eye
are you truth, are you vision
it's becoming a science,
so much compassion
the fourth chakra, the heart,
the centre of us all
a higher consciousness
such a harmonious aura
a hunter, a nurse, a solider, an outdoorsman
villains and superstition
misfortune and prosperity
with toxicity, sickness and death,
recycle and reuse
oh so powerful
you exude auspiciousness
just a holiday
mystical fairies and spirits
though also devilish,
cancer in the stars
a renewal of paradise,
biliously tranquil
are you refreshingly soothing,
peacefully restful,
a naive novice,
very understanding,
is there truly a term for you?
what do you really convey,
countless representations
a definition of name,
or do you signify the feeling, the specimen
the aspect?
though some have no locution for you
here I am,
stepping around the issue
you are you, in any word
yet with a different meaning
Jul 15, 2012
Jul 15, 2012 at 10:01 PM UTC
New horns
Paper crowns
Ink kings
Flash smiles
Sever your minds
Sever your necks
We’ll speak in circles round
The fool within
A frenzy target for your
Sensational ****
Dissect this media market
Black lust and haste
Reduce
Reuse
Retie
That ******* noose
May 17, 2014
May 17, 2014 at 10:57 AM UTC
Ancient doors creak and groan
scraping back the dust
of ages gone
A formidable sight...
like standing guardians
since time immortal
Slinking in
past swirling fog
I pause to calm my fear
adding strength to resolve
when suddenly...
a deafening voice ERUPTS
with EXACTING FASTIDIOUS truths
Solid ground shatters beneath me...
I hover helplessly
Below me...
a noxious boiling maelstrom
The voice of truth EXPLODES from above
ECHOing my 'Every Sin'
the resounding shock-waves
drive me down
Legs lifted high
to avoid the searing pain
then
a tangle of blistered hands reach out
and drag me within the churning inferno
Blinding spin and unbearable suction
envelope
Scream fades to gurgle
Unconsciousness welcome
though never met
The searing pain still rising yet
Each fibre ripped apart
to molecular particle
Riding the vortex of purification
Separating sins from soul
Finally
Cast out
and caught yet again by the uterine web
with the voice of truth
still taunting ...
" BETTER LUCK THIS TIME "
Jan 18, 2015
Jan 18, 2015 at 1:48 AM UTC
Tiny toes pitter patter,
The dish, the spoon, china clatters,
In the end it doesn't matter,
Nothing is new anymore.
Reduce, reuse, and recycle,
Take an inch, I go a mile.
Faces tighten with a smile,
Tired ankles, wanderlust-sore.
Marching songs, stomping feet,
Blood shed on the fresh cleaned street,
Sight of violence, scent of defeat,
Find a way home, find a way home.
Louder voices, stronger words,
Fleeing children, roosting birds,
Frame and focus, rule of thirds,
Final days of the Peace of Rome.
Jan 10, 2014
Jan 10, 2014 at 1:26 PM UTC
I have mistreated you
I have thrown you away
I have made you weak
I have polluted you
I have made you *****
I have damaged you
I have destroyed your outer beauty
I have built new structures, that cover your natural landforms
I have made you change so much in such little time
I have mistreated you
I now care
I now think before I do
I now do not litter, but recycle
I now reuse and reduce
I now build more of your natural beauty the best I can
I now encourage others to take part
I now reduce waste
I now conserve water
I now try to make you new
I now care
I will share
I will tell people the news
I will joins “Save the Earth” groups
I will spread the word
I will take action
I will create an army, to save your worth
I will hang signs and posters
I will explain what we have done
I will show new effective solutions
I will share
I have mistreated you
That was in the past
I now care
I will treat you right
I will share
I will spread the word
We will all take action
May 6, 2016
May 6, 2016 at 8:44 AM UTC
When the world is slowly dying
Bears on icebergs, melting, crying.
When you refuse to reduce or reuse,
Think of the people and animals you abuse.
All the talk of apocalypse
But zombies don’t compare to this.
The universe’s suicide
The struggle, the difficulty to stay alive
The problems we face, that we cannot erase
Someday we could lose this place.
So walk to school, ride your unicycle
Reduce, reuse, and finally, Recycle
Oct 10, 2012
Oct 10, 2012 at 3:34 PM UTC
“wordlessly watching, heartlessly helping “
an early morning insertion,
says writes a love poem of
necessity, no formal request,
but as I am quiet bound to
her chest rhyming rising, falling,
she, caught between eyes closed,
but ears open, in pretense of deep
sleeping,
leaves me treading words,
“wordlessly watching, heartlessly helping “
borrowed for reuse, as waves
that have been here moments ago,
but only now just splashing me
to a place of inspiration, I look
up at the jambalaya of verses,
and declare myself satisfied,
both in love and wish this:
a completed poem that satisfies a
noisy urging~surging to tell her I
love her without disturbing her
peaceful state of drowsy and
permitting me too
(thinking pause)
to
taste a piece
of peace, so
well completed
Oct 4, 2023
Oct 4, 2023 at 8:57 AM UTC
Look at all the flames ***** look at everything you've done
your gonna have to let me excuse
excuse you from this verse
*** you just think of it as some sort of abuse
and i know this may seem like its somewhat overused
i know it seems sometimes i always reuse
but thats just my view
its kinda like getting lost in the group of the whose
who only to get caught roaming around without your shoes
and now you just don't know what to do
Its whats you always wanted
just to infuse what you feel just to transfuse
and provide with that ruse that you choose
but you gotta pay your dues
pay your dues to the world
for we are all caught up fighting for our lives in the middle june.
were all caught up fighting for our lives
every other minute
every other hour
so what do you do?
Jan 18, 2013
Jan 18, 2013 at 10:59 AM UTC
You require at least three similes.
A metaphor or two.
This section needs more sibilance,
and another allegory on alliteration too.
Creative writing
now a standardized test
where a poet seems
to do slightly poorer than the rest.
You receive a checklist, told
bye and buy the book.
Drain away the colours upon your pencil
or face the examiners sickle and hook.
Creative writing
now a slog a convoluted use and reuse
of that which
"improves"
your descriptions and inscriptions.
You need a conclusion.
something befitting a happy end.
Try anything smart
and a bad grade i'll be "sure to send."
Jun 7, 2016
Jun 7, 2016 at 11:09 AM UTC
you took powerful women and made them powerless,
kissed each tongue as if she was a new flower sniffed
a treasured spelled question where its only found in bliss
a new girl for my hand now that's a cowards tisk tisks
spitting each one of there souls for your own self discovery
my menacing thoughts are hashed out as if each one was for her, you see
like i was a monster with an inner demon that counted our souls
that counted our souls as if i was the one stealing
right out of stock i rather fight then mock
im stronger then i look
most of mother ******* rather leave then look
you know leave comfort right outer your nook
its over booked
like a library over due
curse
each one of my demons that over see
my shoulder they sneeze
achoo
and i only flu they breeze
Jehovah
my god he sees.
id rather respect him
then fall into a snare of sleeze
you mother *******
barely got a grasp of life
and see more then only I can
sac
riff
ice
its a little watery for jam,
maybe you should open it
close most of those books
that never opened
or writ
or did i mean write
lets charge the read
not for the color
but only because
we seek for that lover
its or an
orange
melodies
that searched more then what i have to cover
or more then me just wanting to brother
sibling or not
i will fight and naught
breathy cadence of her warm children
most of you mother are just feel ins
they are some what still-in(steal?)
no use reuse
you dont think God
(God dont you think)
will choose?
Nov 17, 2013
Nov 17, 2013 at 6:05 AM UTC
“O, you who read and learn, please take heed and be concerned…”
This Earth upon which you so proudly walk, now it time for the Sun and Her to gravely talk,
The baking Sun’s heat rapidly rises, the melting kingdom of the mighty polar bear is in crisis,
From Pole-to-Pole and all over the green globe, we must beware of pollution’s slimy crime,
The seasons twist and twirl just like a revolving door, nobody reasons to help the thirsty poor.
“O, you who read and learn, please take heed and be concerned…”
Engineers drill into the Earth’s veins causing so much pain, seagulls burn and drown in acid rain,
Pipes **** out black oil from the Earth’s deep core, Her rocky bones and fleshy soil are so sore,
Her life blood is pumped to fuel coughing motor cars, which are soon discarded with yesterday’s tins and jars,
Poisoned are the ocean’s seals and whales, will anyone stop and listen to the Earth’s warning wail?
“O, you who read and learn, please take heed and be concerned…”
There is still hope and time enough yet, if we together get we can halt this grime and threat,
We must do what the students do at my local school, they live by true values and excellent rules,
Environmental projects and dreams here abound, everyone there is very aware of green schemes,
Let us quickly play our crucial parts, we must all commit these important issues to our hearts.
“O, you who read and learn, please take heed and be concerned…”
Plant a tree or flower, keep a bee and honey hive, you must strive to keep Mother Earth alive,
Share a car, walk to the park, care for the grass, plant a green garden, grow peas, pears, potatoes or tomatoes,
Recycle plastic and paper, save your water, turn off your computer, use the wind to dry your Manchester United jumper,
Reduce your carbon footprint, reuse shopping bags and pass the hint, lower the heating sweating temperature.
*“O, we who now know, it’s up to us to change or else we reap Tomorrow what we Today sow,
We must protect this Earth, this is after all our place of birth and our lovely home, a brightly shining rainbow…”*
©Rangzeb Hussain
Feb 23, 2010
Feb 23, 2010 at 10:12 PM UTC
Dreams Flutter,
twirling inside,
the chimerical mind,
of a dreamer;
my head soaring up,
to meet the clouds,
dancing among the stars.
Being a dreamer,
I am no stranger,
to listening to the lyrics of my heart,
perrsuading me to obtain,
a bouquet of hopes and desires,
that resonates with,the strings of my soul.
"you're impractical",
taunts the voices,
weighing my spirt down,
as self-doubt lingers,
upon my lips,
tasting the return of the bitterness,
a brackish inferiority,
leaving the gulp of confidence,
a difficult pill to swallow.
The shackles around my legs,
forces my choices to decrease,
as the chains of the past,
stifle the ability,
to utilize the clouds,
enveloping my thoughts ,
as stepping stones.
The sight of Intuition,
a gift of the prophets,
allows me to tap into,
talents of Creativity,
skills of persistence,
painting colors,
saturated in intellect,
concealed by a youthful demeanor.
The corset of Thorns,
pricking my torso,
a garment I reuse,
to wear upon my frame,
the suit of torture,
entrapping me within,
a plague of atrocious remembrance.
I return to the physical world,
abandoning my environmental prison,
to bathe in a hot spring of Lotus Flowers,
soothing my exterior form,
as I conquer one element,
of my internal Struggle.
I rise from the plethora,
of Lotus Flowers,
basking in the dawn of my metamorphosis,
gaining ecstasy,
as I arrive one step,
closer to reaching the biggest desire,
of this dreamer.
Jul 15, 2012
Jul 15, 2012 at 2:47 PM UTC
everybody’s angel bodies
find happening midnight
on Kansas pavements
hipsters’ motherwords are wholely robed by time
instant everything is ordinary
buggered city immortals --
annoyed, parentless, marijuana everymans
swiftly digging unknown eternity
groaning strange in the long mysterious night
roaring, vibrating kindness
from their holy tongues
blazing inner hideous human gold
draining ***** forever
draining everything
forever -
Moloch, Buddha, Abyss
Reduce, Reuse, Recycle
Apr 16, 2015
Apr 16, 2015 at 2:07 AM UTC
i. There are moments when I think that I write until the words run into the ground. I reuse metaphors and recycle imagery until the English language is used up and nothing but compost. But god, it is like yours can speak life into being. They are a breath of fresh air in the cave where I’ve been hiding, and for the first time in a while, I remember what light tastes like.
ii. Every night I have tried desperately to feel something, anything, squinting at the ceiling to try to force a single tear out and pretend that I remember what emotion is. But you remind me what the ocean feels like on my cheeks.
And it is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever known.
iii. Sometimes, the only reason I still believe in God is because someone had to have sent you here to save me.
iv. It’s been a really long time since I’ve believed a compliment. And it’s only because you have worked your way into my life well enough to know my imperfections and then continue to see beyond them.
v. I can see my future more clearly with you than with anyone else.
vi. I get into trouble because it seems I romanticize everyone who comes into my life, constantly thinking of them as a better person than they might be.
Except you. You are literally as amazing as I think you are. (And just as you are the only one who can compliment me, trust me when I say I know what I’m talking about when it comes to you).
vii. I swear, if my life ever flashed before my eyes, I would see only high school swim meets, camera-whoring photo shoots, squirrel watching, Prom, late night conversations in the glow of the moon, and a brief glimpse of a girl struggling to read my clearly too-fancy name tag.
viii. I realized while writing this, that for the first time, I am actively trying not to be self-deprecating. I guess if someone like you can love me, I want to work a little harder to try as well.
You are right; we bring out the best in each other. For a while, I thought that I could only build others up by tearing myself down. But with you, I feel like we can take over the world (which we will). I hope I have loved enough to make you feel the same way
ix. Thank you. For all that phrase is worth and then a hundred times more. It cannot even come close to conveying what I feel right now, but then again, I was the one who was never comfortable with emotions to begin with.
x. I love you.
May 8, 2014
May 8, 2014 at 5:20 PM UTC
~for SPT~
whose poems transform with lovingness
~~
*distinguishing, extinguishing,
the knowledges to retain,
reuse daily, mightily,
pleasures insights beloved,
honored with the stripes of daily use
then there are,
the knowledges to retrain,
non-removable, rising up from your
edges
of the very fine line
tween
pain and experience
they must Main Street remain,
be thankful for that,
for love regained,
needs the benchmark
of having lived love,
the loss of loss when recalled,
when new gets a turn, reinstalled,
is now twice sweeter*
Nov 1, 2015
Nov 1, 2015 at 8:19 AM UTC
I am dressed in iron. Layers of it.
Sweat and blood mingling with tears.
And it rusts.
And erodes.
And crumbles.
And soon, my strong persona
Will be gone.
Or maybe it already is?
I've tried so hard to care for my armor,
But everything decays after a while.
I am exposed.
My fragile body is bare now,
And this glass figurine is crying.
She wants to be wrapped in steel this time. Titanium.
That way, she won't break as easily.
And her tears will no longer clatter on the floor,
Shattering into bright little stars.
They don't deserve to be stars.
They are dull.
She may hurt, but her tears are empty.
She has no tears left.
She gave those away too long ago, and they were lost.
And they were bright.
Wasted.
And she wants to be covered in molasses.
Maybe then, when she finds her tears again,
They will stick to her, and never leave.
Maybe she could use them again.
Reduce Reuse Recycle.
She could save her world, and allow
Other pains
To sleep there.
Absorb them from the creatures
She talks to daily.
Hiding them in her iron.
Steel.
Titanium.
Molasses.
Anything is better than
Glass.
Sep 24, 2013
Sep 24, 2013 at 9:23 AM UTC
humanity is like a dish.
it can go through so much, but eventually it's color will fade.
you can reuse it, and wash it and it'll look brand new.
and if you press your knife to hard or slam it down on the table, it could chip.
and maybe you have super glue just lying around, so hey why not?
fix that old plate up.
and it can be put out for anyone,
anyone at al can use it,
and in a store when you decide hmmm should i buy, and take it home or what
you decide on the way it looks, whether it's the right color or size
and when you decide to get rid of it, you decide on how empty that superglue containers been getten
cause that plate was used oh so many times, it's color has faded
and it has more than just a couple chips.
so to the garbage it goes.
and so
you go back to the store to but a new plate, maybe a different color, this time, eh?
Apr 4, 2013
Apr 4, 2013 at 1:51 PM UTC
If a wrecking ball fell through the ceiling right now, I wouldn’t run.
I’d relish the scramble, apt as a totem pole amidst a school of fish.
If you don’t want to get hurt, just go around me.
You should know by now I’m always in the way.
If I were a totem pole amidst a school of fish,
I’d hope to be crushed at the center of a dance floor.
You should know by now I’m always in the way.
Disaster only strikes when we write it off.
I hope to be crushed at the center of the dance floor.
The ones who never knew me would reuse my obituary.
They’d know not to write off disaster.
They’d wrap their dishes in the newsprint when they moved uptown.
The ones who never knew me will reuse my obituary
for the thousands of others just like me.
They’ll wrap their dishes in newsprint when they move uptown.
They never pray for wrecking ***** to crash through ceilings.
The thousands of others like me
never knew that expecting the worst could save lives.
I always pray for wrecking ***** to crash through ceilings,
but this is not the answer.
Expecting the worst only saves lives
if your death is a surprise party that never happens.
This is not the answer.
You cannot think like this every day.
If your death is a surprise party that never happens,
you will stop believing that it is possible.
You cannot think like this every day.
Your fear will become the moans of a woman who’s not wet.
You will stop believing that what you want is possible.
If a wrecking ball falls through the ceiling right now, I won’t run.
I will moan through the fear even though I am not wet.
Just go around me if you don’t want to get hurt.
Jun 13, 2012
Jun 13, 2012 at 9:28 AM UTC
Refract the light
Retract the night
Refrain from pain
Regain from feign
Repel all sight
Rebel all flight
Reuse that smile
Reduce that rile
Retell a story
Resell a glory
Reflect ambition
Reject omission.
Jan 26, 2014
Jan 26, 2014 at 4:28 PM UTC
A heart that once was tender
Can somehow turn to stone
Their words may still sound gentle
The actions set the tone
A rock is just a rock
But a quill may well disguise it
As lips may spin BS
And hide the cold inside it
Those hearts can thrive on weakness
To feed on and grow stronger
‘Reuse that same old source
To resupply their hunger
It gratifies their muse
To know they have your number
Aug 14, 2010
Aug 14, 2010 at 9:24 AM UTC