"satisfactorily" poems
dedicated to all the better poets here...
don't know much about a quatrain
don't know how to write a refrain,
surely could not compose a
courtyard elegy
maybe after
and still untilled,
I been buried,
'n checked out
the neighborhood competition...
as for limerick,
that is Dr. Seuss
and Ogden Nash's shtick
with whom, eye,
a believed descendant,
cannot compete...
Oh dear me,
no ode node-ed within,
as for a pastoral,
kinda hard to feat,
where I live,
a pastoral is grass cracks
surviving under,
breaking through to the other side
of concrete and blacktop rulers
Maybe one of you
will haiku,
send us a senryu,
send off, see ya!
the doc once diagnosed
a severe case of inflamed iambic pentametery,
with antibiotics and a diet of Hamletery,
was cured most satisfactorily
this silly pen-man-sinking-ship
ain't capable of dat,
boy how 'bout
an epitaph
for a graveyard stone,
should be plenty of room...
as it will be plenty short...
all eye see and all eye know
is vignettes that birth in me
walking down the street,
that's my bread and butter,
my soul's delicacies...
and moments that recorded
here, for a posteriored posterity,
as noted in my all my living
testaments,
drinking and spilling the vin,
from the uninvented igniting vignettes
that consecrate and connect our
knowing each other though odds are
we will never meet...we can yet
drink together
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Don't know much about the French I took.
But I do know that I love you,
And I know that if you love me, too,
What a wonderful world this would be."
May 3, 2015
May 3, 2015 at 7:50 AM UTC
writing songs sans artifice,
that grow better different,
different better,
the lyrics of a man growing older,
insides out, featuring his slips, all showing,
eyes squinting from hard lifestyle experience,
taking on wearied shades of beige yellowing,
a tanned blackness, time edits them, so now,
they sound the same but holier,
from the hazing of hazards
one builds for and by himself,
drilling & extracting the spit-shine of
all that all is fine,
but liquor & cat's paw black shoe polish
just can't quite cover 'em up (2),
the stabbing itch each of the every time
one quests and questions
his ego,
always another test…
why would I ever want that?
his fingers create tinkling at rapido pace,
tinkling an arrhythmia of rhymes
previously perviously (1) unseen,
self exploration, that we all realize
is an unforgiving, never ending,
source of melodic crying out loud;
and when the sensual, arrayed pleasures,
begin to bore
holes of no important consequence,
the querys~to~self get even harder
to explicate what they intimate,
who they implicate,
which parts of you,
failed to answer satisfactorily…
why would I want want that
forever?
Aug 2, 2025
Aug 2, 2025 at 2:11 PM UTC
Humanity has no support to duty
Both contrary in dealing and punctuality:
Non-the-less deny each claims still their validity
Former needs emotional skip where later regularity!
Humanity is a thing roundly soul concern
Fancies of many idles, despotic and obligated.
Estimate not to beautify active approach return;
Deserve aid remarkable quiet pleasing black arts.
Duty declares the deed must accomplish statutable,
Gratitude, greed and gratification are sub-judice here-of:
A crazy caution compel to foil inapplicable
Yonker's pride, old hand cultivated doctrinal of.
Certain condition humanity plays role of pre-eminence
Duty looks wanting help out of heels,
Depending on probation passion of sincerity convince,
Rejecting deep binder satisfactorily set aside exceeds.
If stands duty and humanity both together,
Glorifies the spirit immortal as His name
And also deal showing clean impersonality further,
None appeal to mercy could not dare blame.
Jun 5, 2013
Jun 5, 2013 at 4:14 AM UTC
The sad thing is
I could have justified my instruction
with the simplest of reasons.
I would not have asked
a harmful or a wicked task of him
and I could have explained that
with perfect clarity.
But in the instant that he asked 'Why?'
my patience failed
and I said, 'Because I told you to.'
The implied threat was sufficient
and the task was done, satisfactorily.
If I had only known
that I would become one in a long line
planting furrow after furrow of bitter seeds
in this young man's head,
each of which would grow
into the toxic blossom of blind obedience
I would have checked myself that day.
But I did not.
And any inquest worth its salt
would line me up beside him,
beside parents, teachers, priests,
drill sergeants, generals, presidents
A line of dominoes
aimed remorselessly
at a smiling young woman with a placard
in a park, in Istanbul.
Jun 6, 2013
Jun 6, 2013 at 8:25 AM UTC
trust in the shape of a key,
good god how corny is that?
satisfactorily nonsensical, a Pharisee phrase,
so offal illogical,
it borders on the poetically reprehensible
who has time to state this stuff,
pretend it is worthy of something respectful,
work it into a Nobel Prize awarded script,
nominated for "really bad ****
an ordinary hardware key, brass gleamy,
and the squealing grinding noise
heard while a blank progenitor is reimagined,
so so annoyingly ludicrous in this century
of plastic replicators but the noise,
comfortably familiar as a sound of
things being made
run thumb test over the cuts,
as if your thumb should know
what order the points and bevels,
the toothy gap spaces should be,
the correct disorderly order of the teeth
there are very few locks on a farm;
indeed the front door key
has not
been seen
in many a year
what's that you ask?
ok ok - I get it - in harvest time
it is early to bed and earlier to rise,
conclude this mystery key,
red winter wheat needs laying down,
stop your word seeds germinating
there may be few locks on a farm,
everything rusts so quickly anyway,
but stop to comprehend just how many locks
the human body employs -
at least 613,
maybe many more,
and only one master
for them all
a shiny gleamy thing,
strangely,
its cuts and grooves seem to
spell a word
trust
go figure
1:05am in the city
Sep 28, 2017
Sep 28, 2017 at 1:18 AM UTC
“Yes, master.”
A shrill groan slithers
Across the gray stones
Of the tower, spiraling upward
Until it is trapped in loftier cobwebs.
“The lever is down, master,”
And the darkness is whipped by electricity.
I beat out these lines with a bare
Foot, tapping to every syllable,
As the madman donning
Green-tinted goggles and
A tumbleweed of hair curls
Closer and closer to the cluttered lab table.
“Need more light, master?
I’ll hold the lantern,”
And the light begins to praise his smooth hands,
Sloping precisely to pink fingernails
As the needle dips into his
Experiment like an eel
Flowing beneath the sea’s wake.
“Are you close, master?”
Illuminated are the gashes that mar
The ridges in my knuckles,
The calluses etched into my fingertips,
The wiry hairs that strangle
My throbbing, grey veins.
A life of delicate accomplishment,
Filled with a strictly inward turmoil;
It has never been mine to choose.
“It isn’t fair, master...”
And his lips purse in the effort
Of affording me a cursory glance.
“...That your genius go
So unrecognized,
Sir.”
Grunting satisfactorily,
He grins only toward his beloved creation
While I continue pondering
How a pencil might feel against
The paper if I knew how
To make the words.
“I want to write, master.”
“Poetry?” he mumbles to the scalpel,
and I nod my head vigorously as
His rumbling laughter becomes
Smoke that snakes leisurely toward
The skylight.
May 19, 2013
May 19, 2013 at 3:23 PM UTC
My nails are perfectly manicured, and nice to look at,
But they took ten minutes to start punching the keyboard.
Lethargy is not beautiful.
They had no trouble gripping the stem of the martini I mixed,
With a few of the pickled ingredients that were supposed to mask the heavily peppered *****
But my lips still burn with every dipping.
Only after settling on self-indulgence,
Did I start pressing down on the sticky keys.
I used a lot of commas,
And I painted satisfactorily crap images,
that would allow me to describe destruction.
This rotten passage lets me fantasize about slamming my laptop shut,
Gripping the end between my two fat lazy hands,
And slamming it against the ****** living room wall
That separates me from my ****** bedroom.
My words are violent,
But that just isn't enough.
When you can’t blame emotions on a subject, or a person,
You can transfer them to something physical.
You can crumple it, shatter it, burn it.
You can destroy and indulge in your heavy soul.
You can self-deprecate
Defecate
Alleviate.
Jul 11, 2013
Jul 11, 2013 at 10:41 PM UTC
Intrigued about cremation,
I sought GOOGLE to assuage curiosity
significant questions answered
clicking the following website
https://www.funeralwise.com/plan/
cremation/cremation-process/
though summarizing article
some oven death defying act,
yet summarization satisfactorily completed,
thus herewith briefly describes
kickstarting, mystifying, pulverizing...
tantalizing, yielding, enterprising, lasting,
yelping, holding, surviving dearly departed
1. deceased identified
2. official cremation authorized
affiliated with deceased
3. lifeless body prepared
4. medical devices removed
5. jewelry recovered
6. corpse secured
into burnable cremation receptacle
7. encased entity transferred
to retort i.e. cremation chamber
8. temperature range adjusted
between 1400 degrees -
1800 degrees Fahrenheit
9. 1.5 - 2 hours elapsed
10. magnet applied
residual metal removed
11. remains ground into ashes
12. once process completed
remains secured within urn
13. family representative entrusted
with ashes.
Burnt offerings distributed
ideally according to stated
wishes of beloved,
whose remembrance sustained
as tears expended
necessary to mourn
eventually sorrow lessened,
photographs visited
after crushing grief decreased.
Jun 2, 2019
Jun 2, 2019 at 2:35 PM UTC
_Confessor_, I am reborn,
Vain with ash and frankincense;
Absolved of my inverted pleasures,
Reconciled to the morality of suffering.
_Confessor_, I am returned,
Predestined to gravely offend;
Nimbly contrite in my genuflection,
Gracefully weak-kneed in my resolve.
_Confessor_, I am reborn,
Although aged by my discretion;
Examined satisfactorily by my conscience,
Blessedly relieved through your encouragement.
_Mea culpa, mea culpa, mea maxima culpa._
Aug 30, 2019
Aug 30, 2019 at 4:30 PM UTC
It takes a special poet to
write solely for themself;
so much better to be read
than stuck upon a shelf.
The poems flow so easily
when they're so easily shared.
The love, the dreams, the angst, the rage
all satisfactorily aired.
I do write for an audience;
it's true to some extent.
Readers tell me if my words
express just what I meant.
Still it's for me to judge my poems
effective or effete;
that's why God made the keyboard with
a button named Delete.
Jan 16, 2011
Jan 16, 2011 at 12:31 PM UTC
Would you if
Could you with
A gift of any wish
Granted / Change
Beauty
Or what they deem to be
The ugly in humanity
Simply (for one's own comfort)
To see and to shape
Satisfactorily
It's property
Metamorphose
So suppose you could impose
Your willing whim on man
Or make refined
These grains of sand / to cry
Change sweet sugars
To sour lime
And with this power on a dime
Create your heart
To love / to shine
And shape the world
With peaceful times!?
Still, rain will fall and war:
Often loudly screams to be
Consistently and capitalistically
Disagreeing discord
Ever more......
But if you could
And if you should
With every beef and steer
Against the odds angst and deep
Defeatists' endearing fear
Educate the darkness
How it can be lifted by
A single spark,
Would you
If could you
Should have
With a gift
Of a single wish:
Recognize Our Heart
A good place to Always
Start...
(Stay true for you are Art)
Dec 22, 2016
Dec 22, 2016 at 9:49 PM UTC
my grandma likes to tell me that i have compelled her
to replace her carpets 3 times.
once, on easter,
when i gleefully peeled brightly dyed eggs
and
upon discovering the contents,
disappointed by their deception
that something so beautiful could be so mundane
and uninspired on the inside
with a scent that reviled,
naturally,
one after another,
i ground them into the rug
until yolks and whites mingled
satisfactorily
with fibers from the seventies
and became something far more interesting.
the second episode
met me with shears.
how was i to know
that carpet does not grow back?
i like to think i pulled her
out of the eighties
when i fell down the
metal-plated stairs,
split my head open
and seeped blood in pools
deep into the sea foam green.
a new carpet erased the evidence
but
a score of years has passed
and my forehead
is still proudly marked
a reminder of the day
i fell and
shattered on the inside.
Feb 28, 2013
Feb 28, 2013 at 3:30 PM UTC
Carrying around our death scrolls
As we roam satisfactorily.
While on us, death trolls
Carefully inspecting our every move.
To its final days, life crawls.
Every moment passing by us
Leaving behind a shadow of past.
The future doesn’t hold any promise,
The present already outcast.
Do we lest, ponder at least?
To where’s the rush,
And where are we heading to?
Do we not, reflect albeit?
We carry our death scrolls,
Proudly so, such oblivious souls.
Nov 9, 2017
Nov 9, 2017 at 11:43 AM UTC
Rubayiat Al Thurab (Verses of the Dust) - 67
BismillahIr RahmanIr Raheem
I don't probe the divine nature of eternal love!
The sincere desire what I naturally have for You,
I' inborn with Your passionate fondness,
To willingly embrace You my Beloved.
Nor my gentle heart is void!
Nor satisfactorily complete!
Nor it wantonly breaks!
Nor it inevitably perishes!
You the one Oh my Treasured!
Your eternal love eagerly grasps,
My gentle heart and properly advise
Me, ow to sincerely love!
Allah Khair..... Khairul Rabul Alameen Yah Arrahmanur Yah Raheem
Ummah Thurab - Badshah Khan.
©UT-BK 2019
Mar 11, 2019
Mar 11, 2019 at 8:46 AM UTC
Rubayiat Al Thurab (Verses of the Dust) – 37
BismillahIr RahmanIr Raheem
The limitless sky!
Under the limitless sky, I seen everyone desperately Try,
To satisfactorily conclude each other, on their own way,
But we human, how can we properly interpret the sacred past.
As it happened in eternal heavens in the sacred past,
That one ultimate conclusion, naturally causes us all,
To critically survive under the one stable roof,
The limitless sky!
Allah Khair….. Khairul Rabul Alameen Yah Arrahmanur Yah Raheem
Ummah Thurab – Badshah Khan.
©UT-BK 2019
Feb 9, 2019
Feb 9, 2019 at 3:38 AM UTC
What is something happy?
Being calm with your friends and family,
Living somewhere with normality,
Finding a place with no tragedy,
Being able to see the galaxy,
Being yourself with no insanity,
Not allowed to love the same sexuality,
Able to win something with satisfactorily,
Living with the same sanity?
That wouldn't be happy, that'd be be boring!
May 24, 2014
May 24, 2014 at 8:12 PM UTC
**If only you had stood by me,
patted my back & said
"There's always a next time".
I would have tried again...
If you had held me up every time
I tripped & fell and told me that
wasn't the end...
I would have stood my ground
if you had held out the rope
for me the moments I were deep
down the dark abyss of despair
I would have climbed out instantly
If you had cheered me up
too albeit I hadn't emerged the
very best in the so many a race...
I would have enrolled for another
If you had forgiven me
when I made the first of the
million grave mistakes which
ultimately cost the team
the 999,999 would have been won
If you had listened the many
times I really tried to explain
you probably would've understood
If only you had mourned with me
when I was burying my dead
I would have forgotten my loss
If you had walked with me before
I took the very first step of this
journey, the miles would have seemed less
I'd have walked farther than I did.
if you had knelt down and prayed
with me when I needed to believe
my faith wouldn't have faltered
if you had been there when I was
in need of a shoulder to lean on
I would call you my family
if you'd given me crumbs when I
were hungry, drops when I were
thirsty, clothed my ******
dressed my wounds, counselled me
lent an ear when I battled insanity
I probably couldn't have fallen off
the edge and gone totally bananas
if only you had scratched my back
when I was growing my nails
maybe I could have satisfactorily scratched your itch thenceforth
if only you had read my scripts
and poetry even if they were but
mere rumblings and cacographs
I could have written a glossary...**
If only you had even just tried to...
Jul 6, 2016
Jul 6, 2016 at 12:17 PM UTC
🙏
OUR LIFE, A RIVULET
Our life is like a rivulet; going through a constant change; dashing alone, through paths difficult n rough
Picking up many relationships on the way, some good, some bad, some mild, some angry n gruff
Needs a rivulet to turn into a river; n then to reach her destination final, to the Sea so mighty, really huge !
Rest she just cannot, it's a winding journey, meandering, but there is no going back, no refuge !
A bumpy jumpy childhood, followed by a carefree or stressful youth; then perhaps it flows smoothly for a while;
She sometimes gets a chance to happy be; to gracefully flow; and at life, satisfactorily smile
Then again as youth recedes, relatives also part, into many factions at the delta, she is now broken !
These parts big and small, all into the mighty ocean submerge; it is now that a rivulet, that has turned into a river is, finally unified, in Heaven awoken.
Armin Dutia Motashaw
Jun 4, 2023
Jun 4, 2023 at 9:40 AM UTC
They think that all it takes to be
satisfactorily enlightened
is to leave behind a possession or three
and feel what it's like to be frightened
These rich, wise men applaud themselves
for thinking such deep thoughts
while, deprived of their least favorite couch, they delve
into the world of what it's like to have-not
Nov 7, 2018
Nov 7, 2018 at 10:40 PM UTC
Wedding of words with thoughts
The lovely, timid bride
Born as thought
Comes bedecked
With the choicest of jewels
Her companions
Dancing like nymphs
Of heaven's grace
Is enchanting
The companions of the groom
Handsome
Born that way
Are moved by this
Graceful swaying
And movement
Of unseen glories
Oh so are the bridesmaids
After all,they are also
Beautiful
Just like the bride
The shehnai of imagination blows
Virtues like determination
Take on the role
Of the priest
Or pastor as you say
But this groom's a bit naughty:-) :-)
His eager eyes
(Eager for beauty,
Seeking something
Just good enough
To express
For so long!)
Flutter to the mates
Of the thought bride
Oh he is also moved
Would he elope
Would he find his
Life's expression
In someone else
Other than this thought?
After all he is known
For his mischiefs
From long ago
(He could not find
A suitable one
For himself
Given me so much pain!)
Today as I jump
In ecstasy
Of this occasion
So holy
I face this danger
I command the priest of determination
To quickly
Complete the rituals
So that I get to see a lovely couple
Bless them for
Fulfilling my heart's desire
For bringing my
Youthful mind
To a standstill
To pen my thoughts
Satisfactorily
For at least a moment!
Such is the toil
Of the marriages elaborate
Made in a holy
Sterilized wedding hall
Of my brain
And you know
How difficult it is
To maintain
A purity
A sterility
Be it of body,places
Or flickering thoughts!!
Jan 22, 2018
Jan 22, 2018 at 6:34 AM UTC
Truth Is. . .
What I like most about myself is that I am so
understanding when I do something wrong. . .
You had better appreciate me now and avoid the rush. . .
We all have one thing in common- a thing called life. . .
Just exactly what life is has not yet been satisfactorily
explained to me. . .
I try to take life as it comes and just hope it keeps coming. . .
Every time I try to take out a new lease on life, the landlord
raises the rent. . .
Win or lose. it's all right. . .
The world is a very strange community, but it is the only
one we all belong to. . .
Quiet people have the loudest minds. . .
Truth Is. . .
There has been so much concern about what might happen
that what is actually happening has passed almost
unnoticed. . .
Some of the worst things I have done have probably been
forgotten by everybody except me. . .
Why is it that I so often desire the best and why do I seldom
get it.. .
I could do great things if I weren't so busy doing little things
I am still waiting for some public reaction to my arrival on
earth. . .
Of course I know what happiness is because I've seen
many pictures of it. . .
Intelligence is not of much use unless you are intelligent
enough to use it. . .
Truth Is. . .
The reason why most people are careful is that those who
weren't are no longer living. . .
Having lived through some bad times, I am living proof
that some bad times can be lived through. . .
Just when I nearly had the answer, I forgot the question. .
Don't believe everything you hear about me regardless of
how true it may be. . .
It frightens me when people suddenly start to behave
sensibly. . .
Some of my secrets have been hidden so well, I have
forgotten what they are. . .
I wonder why it is that many of the most important
things are also the most boring things. . .
If it makes you happy, do it. If it doesn't, then don't. . .
Dec 11, 2016
Dec 11, 2016 at 3:26 PM UTC
'One day, she will be nothing but litter on the side of the highway', they had murmured in hidden tongues. So she balled herself up and crumpled anything that she could have been – at least she could be satisfactorily streamlined when she was thrown from tobacco-stained fingertips, if nothing else.
Sep 20, 2017
Sep 20, 2017 at 5:53 PM UTC
Would you if
Could you with
A gift of any wish
Granted /
Change
Beauty
Or what they deem to be
The ugly
in humanity
Simply (for one's own comfort)
To see and to shape
Satisfactorily
It's property…
Metamorphose.
So suppose
You could impose
Your willing whim on Man,
Or make refined
These grains of sand
To cry
Change sweet sugars
To sour lime
And with this power on a dime
Create your own heart
To love / to shine
Maybe even shape the world
With peaceful times!?
As always
rain will fall
As war
Often loudly screams to be
Consistently and capitalistically
Decreed
A Disagreeing discord
Ever more......
But if you could
And if you should
With every beef and steer
Against the odds angst and deep
Defeatists' endearing fear
Educate the darkness
How it can be lifted by
A single spark,
Would you
If could you
Should have
With a gift
Of a single wish:
Recognize Our Heart
A good place to Always
Start...
(Stay true for you are Art)
Jul 8, 2018
Jul 8, 2018 at 1:50 AM UTC