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complexities of mind
simplicities of heart
veer life into wabi sabi art.

© Mrunalini.D.Nimbalkar
#24.09.2019#
Wabi sabi...this Japanese term means “a way of living that focuses on finding beauty within the imperfections of life and accepting peacefully the natural cycle of growth and decay.”would definitely want to learn and inculcate this in my day to day living ...The Japanese philosophy
False Poets Feb 2018
complexity bias

how you love to criticize my poems
as too long and overly complex

poor me, I’m no genius, don’t prosper by exploiting
unrecognized simplicities, rather deconstruct the
intricate complexities that I flatter myself are the me-sinews

Writing is a **** temptation -
we focus on the 10% that is complex and ignore the easy 90%

perhaps this once I will surrender my bare bones
put aside the rich, satisfying of cave diving, urban spelunking
word caressing tongue verbiage rich tapestry exploring -

give you the plane of plain where nestles my destiny: nesting near motionless where the couch is my kingdom and cold cereal is
easily digested and there are no consequences

I am a member of a discriminated-against minority
we have no charismatic leader, no marchers anywhere, and government programs say
hey you’re free white and twenty one plus, get the crap out of
our faces,  you useless piece of rhymes with **** and includes dirt, though I shower twice a day to keep myself occupied

25 years old, a high school dropout, of course I’m white,
my occupation is playing video games and making sure
my supply of opioids is adequate in these great United States
where I was born

there are fewer jobs than none that my application survives
a first glance discardation, and now my disability preempts
any demand to pretend there is gainful employment in store in
my future

this reductio ad absurdum is a technique to expose the fallacy,
ah what’s that you say no interest in hanging about,
on your way out, of course, of course,
we are the wrong flavor of downtrodden

my life is simple - simplistic in its a chaotic entropic way,
order slowly declines into disorder

my rituals are a fight against slip sliding down, falling off the
the Herzog continuums
and the poems are desperate hand holds to prevent my
going, gone under

so forgive me if I tax you without possessing not the
requisite taxing authority

you hone in on the obvious disparities and my contradictions

resenting my sending you this bill of extravagant length

compose with me and a mean will be located and to sleep I go,
perhaps to undress my dreams and explicate the wealthy multiples of complexity in the simplicity of a junkies life
sunday Oct 22
If you can still feel it-
The warm wind that rushed into our lungs,
while we drove straight into an inevitable
iron judge-
Please let me know.

Because your deadly silence
pulls the green, rancid thoughts out of my mind-
Prioritizing comeback-arguments and
glass-shattering-jealously
over our lost harmonies and simplicities.

To open my eyes,
To remove the black and white filters of staged Polaroids,
To realize the naïveté of dying campfires,
And to strip the layers of paint from our canvas,
Calls for forgiveness.
Forgiving you.
Forgiving me.

It calls for change and allowing the dams I’ve
artificially placed immeasurable love into,
to wither,
So the natural rivers can flow.
To allow the ecosystem to thrive.

To move on-
I put on my old sweater.
It smells of loneliness, heavy browns, and protection-
A wall to my heart.

Please forget the combination to the lock on my dreams,
If you can hear my silent tears.
I beg of you in the key of F major.
L.L.
zebra Jan 9
blood blot
a hideous music
like fixed stars
a chaos of shattered glass
you can hang your hat on

bamboo shards make a ****** wound
gold spun hair
on floral linen
blemished soaking red
like a shaking rat in a cats mouth

Hazels glistening ******; a pretense
salutes celibacy and high end moisturizer toilet paper

to shock simplicities morals
of an excretory affair
a dark chandelier hangs in the balance
torpedo runnels through chambered knots
unleashing treacherous sanity
sins crib
theater of purgation

father forgive her
she took a ****

an idealist without ideals

the grand masturbator
a simulacrum of a lubed god
in nights dragging shade
oracle of a  ruddy opera  and legs over head
flexed crimson wattle rolls

theories invite anti theories
light invites darkness

silence yields
shadows throat
and cacophonous whispers
a grind house temple of gods and demons
in horrendous geometry
of inflicting malice

until the serpent ascends
from black pitch hells
like a bomb through the skull

lusts antidote
waterloo of the soul  
annihilation point
the cadaver smiles
surreal ….a poetry of fragments
Julian Apr 20
The inaugural bang swiveled with the vacant expressions of a muted feral crowd indignant about ethnic identity and swift in the recourse of tyrannical thugs pandering withered abuse

I solemnly abided in a chirpy itinerant glower against the exclusive system for stranding the disintegration of lyrical integrity for the Potemkin cheers of the culmination of too many jeers

Withered words for the abeyance of silence I incurred with wistful pleas for resurgent clarity beyond   sheepish fears

So I loitered in the evanescence of words..

Watching with alacrity as the strident ignorance of grafted wretchedness writhed its last mustered exsibilation at the sound of windbags bloviating beyond prodigal extravagance without a visible tweeted word

I measured my pause…..as I considered the heft of poignant exposures to a dismal serenade of miscegenated politics and garbled breaths of wheezy mendicants seeking participation in the trophy of smothered compliance

But I marveled simultaneously at the extinction of the shriveled crowds as they sized up the minutiae of wastrels glamorously inviting a frozen recapitulation of sorrows borrowed and wasted on minced platitudes that swindle still the votive confidence of regimented sympathy pretending empathy for soured hearts professedly defiant at their bereaved will

My pulse I clocked at 120 as I wondered where on earth the 140s and 150s have frittered their patience on with such brazen alacrity for the garish snarl of a sojourn into the ineffable effrontery of aureate mutiny against the tyrant of deaf spoon-fed indignation without the luxury of shared ignominy of memorable cadence for frippery in sparse blurbs registered in braille rather than brawn

Then I remembered my vociferous persnickety temperament and the curdled hatred of procrustean swan songs to an etiolating standard of ethical entanglement in aloof issues delivered with a decisive swoon too swift in earnestness to outfox with a quipped rebuff or a calculus of classical spoof

Then I wondered with a problematic but inherent prolixity…..
I too could adorn the adoring moon with a lyrical lampoon geared for a clockwork punchline or a winsome rebarbative tune….OR…. enchant with an incisive acerbic rant about how pasquinades outstay their welcome because of the clambered insistence of happenstance years ago in a blinkered mirror but never rehashed too soon

But where would affection heap its laurels if I dared to swindle the spotlight away from frisky poetasters who proved a renegade inspiration for fluttered triumph in a seaside tragedy only the crestfallen waves of pestilent Idiocracy could steal from my outstretched tenacity in verse and verve

Boom went a fulmination of hatred at my labored words! And then I swerved to avoid potholes of tenuous gainsay…. and other miscreants littering the world with misappropriated labels for laments belabored with publicity for displaced enmity distilled from a cauldron of mismatched ignorance….tethered to the vagrancy of gripe plucked at the ripe time for a twenty-dollar prize give or take a dime

But that dime separating 1990 from 2010 meant more than anything to a life littered with hallowed word crimes…. against the sanctimony of syncopation with cheap bleats too arrogant to be sheepish at the lavish indulgence of the marginalized wines…. brewed in a castle flickering on fiat worth rather than the simplicities of minutes of warbled time

So I currently warp minds with the proctor of a gamble too garish to finesse the quicksand of attrition but jaunty enough to bypass the limitations of a linear self-referential memorial about the circular nature of irony espoused by divorced rhymes

Now I stand ascendant….waiting for the retinues of retinas to absorb the wavy rigmarole of the serpentine pathways carved beneath the buzzwords of race and division and towards soldered unity with a human race beyond racism…. and a class divorced from socioeconomic crass division

Just then I arrived at serenity…. as I realized that the BAR exams that encage so many aspirant hearts are counterfeit in the court of the highest judiciary art that believes that insidious artifice is an embezzled venture of frolicsome guttersnipes wallowing in division can never revive a lifeless heart…. even if quick-witted credentialism rattles the slaves to vapid artforms that any humanism would never deem smart

Ditch the agitprop as a human frailty indentured to endure the curated disease without a cure to make the snollygosters in Washington ever so cocksure with their cockalorum disregard of the palatable consensus to make news real again….Finally for the fraternity of an enlightened human race in a benighted world of trendy fatuousness that infests the planet with the debauchery of glorified urchins jerking the levers with severed brevity to promote infectious foofaraw with cultural indemnity

I leave you with this

What is ornate complexity without the luxury of concerted beatific bliss that the parsecs that flummox your minds throb vehemently with cohesiveness in my internal design are not remiss

And remember the benighted standards of kitsch for the kitchens of penury bewitched don’t stand a chance against the overriding itch to vanquish mountains one after another to cross them off the list
In this life, there is always dualities,
no simplicities,
nothing ever comes for free,
but we should be grateful for every breeze.

I cry blood tears for what the world has become,
our worries are not here,
but the higher cosmic powers,
Ephesians 6,

I'm a lover of all things,
but I always remember to embrace the shadow.
pain love loss cosmic powers
rainydaydreams Aug 2018
So I think I am in love with you.
Even obsessed with you.
I could drown in the never-ending pool of galaxies contorting around your pupils. I could bask in their warm yet mysterious frequencies that somehow pull me in and swallow me whole. I love it when they do that. It drives me wild. I love when you wrap your arms around my sides criss-cross so that I feel enveloped in you. I love the way you look at me. I love it so much. I love when you tell me your entire life story through endless nights on the phone. I love the idea of waking up to you in the morning, I love the idea of cuddling you in white pressed sheets, while the morning sun shines through window panes, creating a glow no one could refuse to bask in. I love imagining late nights eating pizza and sipping beer as we watch old movies and listen to soul music. I want to dance with you in a kitchen while we make breakfast or brew coffee. I want the most unrealistic, over the top simplicities, and I want to share them with you.
I want you all to myself,
just you and I and
a free moment.

— The End —