"strayed" poems
Friendship is built upon the foundations of
Unique and quirky first impressions.
It is not brought together by what others
May say or recommend,
It is not brought together by a Rubik’s cube
Or the use of super glue—
Friendship is just what it states!
Two or more ships brought together
To become one friend—thus the
Creation of Friendship!
It involves a raging sea of betrayals;
Of innocent white lies; of going astray;
Of being in the wrong place at the wrong time;
Of hatred and envy.
But Friendship is strong
And it prevails over anything above all else;
And when the bonds of
Friendship is that strong, nothing between
Friendship should ever; could ever be wrong!
However, you do get one or two that goes overboard
The bow of Friendship and are forever lost at sea
Hoping to be picked up by Cecrops, the Lost Mariner to
Remain forever a prisoner on the ship of Friends that
Corrupts the minds of truthfulness; of the One True bond
That which is called Friendship.
My ship is true and has never
Strayed from its course.
It is homeward bound towards
The foundation that which
Made it true; towards quirky
First impressions that’s unique and precious;
Back to the fleet yards and of harbors
of its creation--
The Fleet of Friendship.
Sep 16, 2013
Sep 16, 2013 at 2:55 PM UTC
When I was just a little girl,
And as little girls were taught then,
I played with dolls and a teaset,
Made mudcakes for food,
Wore skirts, made my hair into ponytails as I was let.
I saw the boys with the abandon which comes with free wear and play,
And I thought to myself, why am I a girl.
When I was older, a teen
and as teen girls were taught then,
Walk, talk, rock softly
Don’t draw too much attention
Or attempt to explore too much.
I saw the boys then with the abandon which comes with freedom to play, sit, be as they want ,
And I thought to myself, why am I a girl.
When I was sixteen, oh sweet sixteen,
And as sixteen year old girls were taught then,
Don’t wear clothes that show your frame,
That’s indecent and you will be in another home and will incur alot of blame.
Don’t wander, argue, or express an opinion,
You’re a girl, being humble, quiet and gentle becomes you.
I saw the boys then with the abandon which comes with freedom of movement and speech,
And I thought to myself, why am I a girl.
When I was older, and passionately sought a particular career,
I was admonished as many other girls in my time,
It’s not a career for women, late nights, more men to be around,
When you get married, that’s not going to work and troubles will abound.
I saw the boys then with the abandon which comes with the freedom of pursuing their dreams,
And I thought to myself, why am I a girl.
When I was married, and setting a home, working and raising a family,
I left my work as many other girls in my time,
For my husband to follow his work path,
Unquestioningly, unflinchingly, resolutely.
I saw the men then with the abandon which comes with freedom of being in control of their lives,
And I thought to myself, why am I a girl.
But this is just the surface of my questioning being a girl,
When boys and men around tried their stunts on girls and women,
I questioned my existence.
When many girls and women I know,
Were told to stay mum on men close who took advantage of them
I questioned my existence.
When In the workspace,
Women got paid less than men because their salary were subtly looked at as secondary salaries,
Or needed to speak louder to be heard,
I questioned my existence.
When the onus of keeping a relationship working was the woman’s responsibility largely,
I questioned my existence.
When a woman got hit by her spouse,
Its she who may have provoked him.
When a man strayed,
Its she who was not a good enough wife that he had to look elsewhere.
I questioned my existence.
The atrocities many men are capable of,
The filth many men spread,
**** hate, aggression, manipulation and more
Abuse, gaslighting inside closed doors,
Wearing a mask of sophistication outside
Animalistic and entitled beings to the core.
My apologies to men who are not,
And I know some,
But they are but a handful,
Too insignificant in the larger way the world works.
But then I see me,
A harbinger of change,
In my home and around.
Raising my son differently,
Advocating for change purposively,
Actioning resolutely what’s right,
Woman for women with all my might.
I see so many more women now who retain their selves and are beacons of hope,
They don’t sit around and just mope.
And I am glad I am a girl,
And I question no more,
I question no more.
Feb 16, 2020
Feb 16, 2020 at 4:28 AM UTC
I did my best to keep you around
But you left me hanging and you strayed away
From where I am, I’ll stand my ground
Knowing that I can’t make you stay
Every sleepless night I think about you
How much love for it to be true
The look in my eyes is so blue
Wondering what I put you through
I see your face in every girl
The longing for you grows more and more
Love, you’re all I’m searching for
Even though things aren't the same anymore
Trees will grow, Flowers will bloom
The Sky will turn black and blue
But my love will always embrace
Always near you, soaking
Like how the sun shine on you in the morning
Time passed and days gone by
The rift that keep us apart will be mend
Towards the moment that we've all been waiting for
For you and I
To come out and pour our hearts out
It came, the words that I’ve been so afraid
To hear
The feelings that’s been kept for so long
To feel
The way our eyes are lock on each other like never before
To see
That your heart is not the same as mine
I did my best to keep you around
But you left and never looked back
I did my best to keep you around
To you
The person I've never had
May 19, 2015
May 19, 2015 at 9:03 AM UTC
she is
a very naughty girl
she never follows
policy to the letter
she always
does the wrong thing
she needs some discipline
she's proficient
at defying the law
she knows not how
to get the message
she doesn't
listen intently enough
she fills many charge sheets
with her misconduct
she is a girl
with a streak of wickedness
she has all the hallmarks
of someone who is naughty
I speak of Ursula
in the above list of bad deeds
and there is a hope
that her bad deeds
can be quickly remedied
the hand of an authority figure
will bring her back into line
as she has too often
strayed from that line
whence appropriate corrections
are implemented
all her behavioral problems
shall be circumvented
then and only then
a change will eventuate
and she'll no longer
be showing her bad traits
really naughty girls
such as Ursula
can become more like
a pleasant seaside peninsula
watching her radical transformation
shall be a sight to see
so we'll keep our eyes focused
on what Ursula shall soon be
Nov 29, 2013
Nov 29, 2013 at 6:13 PM UTC
I knew the orange on the orange tree
you had an ache in your shoulders
uncomfortable in an unnatural way
yesterday I passed you talking to flowers
you hadn't moved you hadn't strayed
but hiding in the leaves was a forced disguise
the omens told me something quiet and unceasing
reminding me of a slumbering domesticated cat
dreaming of cutting yourself loose from truncated ease
dropping down from the branch with panther steps
licking fruit lips ripe with revealed acidic petals
riddled with a past you revelled mixing in with zest
shocking chances stepped in for the next dance
sleep taken aback by wings cut from a dark sky
the sidewalk pitted and cracked beneath the pounce
relief escaped the twigs with a spring like waking prey
pressing into night foliage shaken from a nice balance
as I saw you take control with nothing to mask your face
on the surface too smooth for violence
was laughter of glowing gloom to embarrass
and deter such rebellious arrogance
with a twist struggling from a lame curse
its flavours sharp against your sweetened perfume muscle
expecting you to build a limestone shed for tears
rather than take on the night with a mind to wrestle
the outside aches for your physical attraction
gaining courage from the purpose in your eyes
tense as the tightness of your dress' intention
demanding that my hands draw from such lines
the sinuous heat of pulsing flesh's invitation
curved upon seeds not chaste but not quite refined
which I try not loving with some cool disambiguation
you left me the taste of syrup of grenadine
too reputable to ripple vain red tipple eyed
on a table spilt with pink gin and mandarin
sharp teeth tingling a tartness into my hand
sliding slowly at a tilt like drops of sweat on skin
focus dwindling into the clasp of an escaping shade
wrapped carefully under soft rice paper and then
tucked under a heel with a pointed kick like a blade
only to feel you relent and burst open
soft in appeal again and again
Jul 19, 2014
Jul 19, 2014 at 3:28 PM UTC
Your presence engulf my existence
A fragile instrument I cannot touch
Grasping for air with this essence
The nearness of you makes me want you much
Loving you is bittersweet symphony
Trap in a lifeless agony
I tried to hold on for what it's worth
But then it hit me, oh help me clarity
Adrift in this feckless fray
I have lost you once, strayed the second time
Wanting for you is a curse I have to pay
Oct 28, 2013
Oct 28, 2013 at 12:02 AM UTC
She was a prisoner,
Trapped in the shadows of the night,
Caged in the gloom of the world.
She sang songs of heart throbbing emotion,
And played melodies of continuous tragedies.
She wrapped herself in life's desolation
And felt the pull of never ending stress weighing her down.
But she stood under the relentless pressure,
And never wavered.
She heard tunes of everlasting joy and peace,
And never strayed.
She found her way through the darkness,
And never doubted.
A girl once born in clouded adversity,
Now blossomed in ceaseless exultation.
Jan 4, 2016
Jan 4, 2016 at 10:08 PM UTC
His fingers wrapped tightly
Around the little hand
Of the sleeping child in his arms.
His eyes traced the silhouette
Of pursed lips to fattened cheeks
And he thought to himself,
"How does something so wonderful exist?"
He listened to the gentle rasp of breath
And watched the slight rise and fall of chest.
His eye soaked up the sight
Of the bundle of unconditional love he held.
And soon dreams of future adventures
And tales and fables and stories
And daily life monotony
Played like a movie before him,
Drawing a single tear of hope from his eye.
All too soon the child stirred and woke
And jumped up and shouted with glee.
And he returned from sentiment to reality
And made breakfast with a cup of tea
Wishing for more moments like these
Because he finally understood his father's word:
Time passes too quickly when it comes to love.
And when his hand paused over the kettle
And his eyes glazed over with this vague thought,
A small hand touched his arm with "Papa?"
Little eyes took in the strength of character
That towered as a model for a future life;
Little eyes that never strayed too long from
Watching and learning all the things Papa did;
Little eyes that now began to see
There's always another side to every thing,
For with great abruptness
Papa looked into those little eyes
And said, "Go wash up, your hands are *****
But the glint in his eyes said,
"I love you, always."
Jun 23, 2015
Jun 23, 2015 at 7:06 PM UTC
she said, our life is a journey of accomplishments,
That we were programmed, we were trained
For what it has to come the other day
And at sudden something went fortunately wrong
And now we are nothing but some strayed unfixable bugs
That no one seems to care about
Did we fail to compile?
or did we not impress?
or did our programmer want us this way
for us to suffocate enough to
define the pain of failure
so we would learn to re-generate the code to the happiness
that we’ll know how to feel our self
when every sentiment on us floats away
and all we can imagine to do is dream
what would we be, if it never happened
Aug 23, 2015
Aug 23, 2015 at 10:07 PM UTC
The mirror reveals a face naked and bleak,
the sweatpants have holes and the T-shirt is frayed.
It'll be over in a couple of weeks.
The hours spent escaping to Twitter speak
to the test on the floor with a failing grade.
The mirror reveals a face naked and bleak.
The tissue rips across my salty cheek
while my transcript laughs at the mess that I've made.
It'll be over in a couple of weeks.
I'll go to class tired and return home weak;
won't even bother with the "good girl" charade.
The mirror reveals a face naked and bleak.
"It's fine, Dad. My predicament's not unique.
I'll get my diploma, and all this will fade.
It'll be over in a couple of weeks."
Yet perhaps this last piece of paper I seek
will only frame the path from which I've strayed.
The mirror reveals a face naked and bleak;
It'll be over in a couple of weeks.
May 20, 2015
May 20, 2015 at 2:39 PM UTC
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
This is the story of two lonely souls....
Who found each other, without cajoles...
Neither had ever had a mate....
Yet Jack and Gill decided to date.....
They felt an instant connection....
As both were Chefs and had a fixation....
One for Chicken the other for Bacon....
And so decided to take their direction....
From what they had learned in life....
Party animals that they were....
And perhaps now you can concure.....
Their feelings for each other....
Was so far from any another....
People just didn’t understand....
Why when they walked, it was always hand in hand....
They never strayed and held tight to their ways....
Believing their world was just another phase....
But eventually the world would accept you see....
That what they had was called * “ smaltzy “....
*Yiddish word for rendered chicken / animal fat or a garish over the top fancy party...
Apr 13, 2015
Apr 13, 2015 at 11:28 PM UTC
It’s the kind of subtle trickle
That turns the asphalt into a glassy mirror
Ripples, ripples, ripples
Over it like a black pond
The silver lining of each little droplet
Streaking the sky with shades of gray
The streetlights cast an amber glow
Upon the shimmering mist
Hiss, hiss, hiss
Against your stinging flesh
Turn your face up towards the darkened sky
Let the rainfall and streetlights wash away the dust
The dust of the souls you carry on your lips and cheeks
Etched into your back and palms
Their burdens may cause you aches and pains
Let the rainfall and streetlights wash them away
Rainfall and streetlights
Rainfall and streetlights
An urban confessional
Where the sky leans in to listen
As every perfect drop of water hits your skin
It’s the sound of a cleansing
Only you can comprehend
And although the hope of purity may have been swept away
by the wind of unfixable mistakes
It’s still the belief alone in possible redemption
That keeps you from relenting to temptation
Drink up the tears of the sky, child
You are forgiven
You were always forgiven
After all
Paths were made to be strayed from
Straight lines are mundane, they all look the same
And never give a little boy glass when you haven’t taught him
how to grasp what’s right in front of him
When he drops it
It’s a dangerous job
Picking up the sharp shattered pieces
Do not make him do it all alone
Yes, inevitably you will cut yourself
On the broken shards
Crimson teardrops
If they tumble from you
Do not distrust your calluses
You made them through your own hard work and suffering
But they can only do so much for you
Remember your skin is a shell not impenetrable armor
So it’s best to avoid the things you know will cut unnecessarily deep
Bleeding is just another way your body assures you that your heart is still beating
Looking up from the gutter the universe awaits you child
Do you not realize what’s at your fingertips?
Infinity
So don’t give in just yet
Let the rainfall and streetlights heal you
Drip drop, drip drop
Let them bathe you in warmth
Radiating
Let the rainfall and streetlights take you away
To a better place
Wherever that may be
Dec 4, 2014
Dec 4, 2014 at 1:18 PM UTC
Say, what drives a narcissist to feed on their soul
Their own being, their whole, a cannibalistic role
I fold, into the answers that have never been told
Because I disagree that life is less than silver or gold
When I was young I was 'old', wiser than age would suggest
I never looked from a problem I never strayed from a test
I sought to better my self, pushing others away
Rising alone but never understanding how I would pay
Now look today and see a fate that I crafted off a clean slate
Into a plate of half consumed variables that I never ate
Or even paid any attention effectively painting dissention
And not to mention my descent into a mental detention
I locked my self in a prison of a dozen complications
A box full of games, puzzles and some mindless sedation
No relation to pain, bottomless gain and no patience
I snap at every ******* body for the beast I am facing
Imagine that you have a paper with some scribbles and lines
Now try erasing the marks so the paper's perfect - just try
It's impossible because you pretend to leave the past
There's always something there to make a scar that will last
So now because of my choices I sit alone with these voices
Saying "you could do better", to me they're nothing but noises
So now I write my emotions so that the world might just hold 'em
Just ignoring commotion 'cause you can pass 'em or smoke 'em
Jul 2, 2014
Jul 2, 2014 at 3:14 AM UTC
Let me begin this with an apology.
An apology for the way I have been acting lately.
I do not know what I was hoping to achieve,
But I know it created nothing of what I want.
Let me begin this with an apology.
An apology that I know cannot ever encompass
Anything near what it ever rightfully should,
But for you I will still try none-the-less.
I don't ever want to lose you.
For over the last two years you have been my best friend.
Through the good and the bad, it has been us unto the end,
And to hear you say otherwise has turned my world on end.
Regardless of the fact that you might be moving on,
I can only ever be happy for you, and
I told you I would always be here for you, always.
And I do my best to keep my promises and my word.
I don't ever want to lose you.
I know that I may lose bits and pieces as we live and grow,
I don't ever want to lose you,
Your friendship I value over all others, that I know.
You are a part of me, something which you've made clear to me.
For better or worse that's the way it's going to be.
It's simply a fact from which there is no escaping,
And you know what? That's fine with me.
You are my sun. High in my sky.
When I think of you, it brightens my life.
I know I haven't been acting the way these words say.
For that, I hope you might accept my sincerest apology.
You and I were best of friends, something which we said would stay.
I lost sight of that, I strayed from the path.
If you're willing to give it a try, it's something I'd like to get back,
Because I value your friendship and I'd like it there in the end.
Let me end this with an apology.
An apology for my immaturity, the worst of me.
For all we've been through you deserve more.
If you give me the chance, I'll make it up to you with every word.
You are my sun.
You are part of me.
You were my best friend.
Hurting you is something I cannot forgive.
And if you cannot either,
I will understand.
I'm sorry.
This is my apology.
Apr 24, 2014
Apr 24, 2014 at 3:02 AM UTC
Once upon a time
A bird on a tree
Perched on a branch, too small to see
The bird hopped
Arm to arm
Peeking behind the leaves
The bird was happy
The tree and he
Or so he thought, for the tree could not speak
He found a mate
As things go
And built a nest, in its crevice
Raised his children
Through wind and rain
The tree secure, steady – safe from pain
When time had passed and his children grown
They had flown away and left him all alone
He leaned on its trunk
Weary from age
Took one last breath and passed away
The tree as always was stoic and still
It did not care
Never did, never will
Though to the bird the tree meant everything
The bird was but another that had strayed into its branches
Just like that the passing of the bird
Had no one to mourn
Especially not the tree, to whom he did not matter
As the tale shows sometimes it is better
To stay away from those who do not really bother
When one means the world to the other
It is not always the case that the feelings are mutual
So before it hurts, start to distance
Yourself from the people
Just like this tree – they don't really matter
Take flight and go far away
Find another
One who really cares – those are truly important
Jul 27, 2017
Jul 27, 2017 at 11:46 PM UTC
A forest adventure-we didn't plan it that way at all,
the call of the wild prompted us, is all I can now guess
hand in hand in to the woods we ventured like two possessed,
magical, it felt, we soon disappeared, from the eyes of curious intruders.
erogenous scent of damp earth, after the first sprinkling of monsoon clouds,
pepped up our interest in hunting mushrooms
popping up everywhere, like fragments of white clouds descended,
we pulled out, egg shaped mushrooms that came in to our view
the frenzy we fell in to, possessed us in total,
after all we we are also young and hot blooded,
We competed like hounds in hot pursuit,
ran, collided with each other, fell down,
with a gentle thud, upon each other.
She did lay flat, face down on my chest,
I smelt,musk on her neck a slow intoxicant
and mushrooms hidden in her both armpits,
which I pursued and found out,we were getting hot,
in pursuit of each other's secrets.
the world, we had forgotten completely for long!!
We didn't see evening light melt and
darkness spread stealthily over the woods
that engages the robust body of the night,
from the rendezvous, of these secret lovers,
we sneaked out and saw lighted torches,
approach us from all four directions.
they zeroed in on us,"Who goes there?"
a harsh voice asked,
"This, do you know, is the holy grove,
of mother goddess, strictly watched
for not to be get desecrated
by people who seek some sort of adventure,
such an act never goes unpunished,
we'll search you and find what you did"
We held out mushrooms before them,
and I saw each face turning a lotus!
"where did you get this,? Oh! so much!,
Those are so rare and any one is able to pluck it,
only if mother goddess is pleased"
And then we realized this,
in that forbidden sacred wood,
between us a miracle has happened!
that pleased the mother goddess
of the woods, the blessed presence,
aren't we then the chosen ones?
,
Jul 13, 2013
Jul 13, 2013 at 6:44 PM UTC
Love is the scent with the lotus born.
It is the silent choirs of petals
Singing the winter’s harmony of uniform beauty.
Love is the song of the soul, singing to God.
It is the balanced rhythmic dance of planets -
sun and moon lit
In the skyey hall festooned with fleecy clouds –
Around the sovereign Silent Will.
It is the thirst of the rose to drink the sunrays
And blush red with life.
‘Tis the promptings of the mother earth
To feed her milk to the tender, thirsty roots,
And to nurse all life.
It is the urge of the sun
To keep all things alive.
Love is the unseen craving of the Mother Divine
That took the protecting father–form,
And that feeds helpless mouths
With milk of mother’s tenderness.
It is the babies’ sweetness,
Coaxing the rain of parental sympathy
To shower upon them.
It is the lover’s unenslaved surrender to the beloved
To serve and solace.
It is the elixir of friendship,
Reviving broken and bruised souls.
It is the martyr’s zeal to shed his blood
For the well-beloved fatherland.
It is the ineffable, silent call of the heart to another
heart.
It is the God-drunk poet’s heartaches
For every creature’s groans.
Love is to enjoy the family rose of petal-beings,
And thence to move to spacious fields -
Passing by portals of social, national, international
sympathy,
On to the limitless Cosmic Home –
To gaze with looks of wonderment,
And to serve all that lives, still or moving.
This is to know what love is.
He knows who lives it.
Love is evolution’s ameliorative call
To the far-strayed sons
To return to Perfection’s home.
It is the call of the beauty – robed ones
To worship the great Beauty.
It is the call of God
Through silent intelligences
And starburst of feelings.
Love is the Heaven
Toward which the flowers, rivers, nations, atoms,
creatures – you and I
Are rushing by the straight path of action right,
Or winding laboriously on error’s path,
All to reach haven there at last.
4k
So an age ended, and its last deliverer died
In bed, grown idle and unhappy; they were safe:
The sudden shadow of a giant's enormous calf
Would fall no more at dusk across their lawns outside.
They slept in peace: in marshes here and there no doubt
A sterile dragon lingered to a natural death,
But in a year the spoor had vanished from the heath:
A kobold's knocking in the mountain petered out.
Only the scupltors and the poets were half sad,
And the pert retinue from the magician's house
Grumbled and went elsewhere. The vanished powers were glad
To be invisible and free; without remorse
Struck down the sons who strayed in their course,
And ravished the daughters, and drove the fathers mad.
3.9k
After I have suffered at your whim
I need this quiet time
to think of what you did to me
to fulfill every need I have
to love you in that way.
I lie and think again of hands
that strayed around me feather soft
A touch so light and barely felt
yet it was as though hot iron had made
to brand those curves new-made
by rope that cuts in places deep.
I felt your kisses find my deepest heart
and made it pound with wanting you
with lips that moved across my skin
driving me to ecstasies I never knew
until you brought me to this secret place
to find our time of such delight.
Such is the theatre of our love,
where we entwine with one another so.
I need again your bonds around me tight
that force me to submit to you
in ways I know I must
be some other than myself
or perish from the loss of you.
Sep 11, 2016
Sep 11, 2016 at 4:13 PM UTC
On the tossing water i float
Like a straw shredded from the field,
Unknown of its own destination.
How gloomy I am!
Like a lost dear strayed from its herd,
Tracing no track nor any shelter.
How gloomy I am!
Like a young bird with pinions broken,
Fluttering in vain, achieving no dream.
How gloomy I am!
Like a bud with no petals,
Lying in the bed,
Following the wind.
How gloomy I am!
Like a yellow fallen leaf,
Rustling its pain in deaf ears.
How gloomy----------------?
Feb 14, 2014
Feb 14, 2014 at 12:15 AM UTC
I found you when I strayed too far north
sailed further than it was safe
They warned me, begged me to return
but I had found the sea and left the shore
said goodbye to the days of yore.
With my destination in sight, I could hardly believe my eyes
The sky turned pink, green and violet
I stared at my life through a wide-angle lens.
You graced the night, you made me go blind
A dancing, smiling, breathing light
Your icy thighs
My northern lights.
Then I stepped out of a buzzing fridge
eagerly awaited an exciting new age
couldn't wait to tear off my ****** thorns
But you just made me eat my words
Count my faults
Finished dreams and swallowed thoughts
But who was responsible for all the pictures in my head?
I never chose to be caught in your fishing net.
You graced the night, made me go blind
A dancing, smiling, breathing light
Your icy thighs
My northern lights.
I tried to stay in the desert of snow
but over time, you just grew cold
you stopped shining for me at all
resisted my screams and ignored my calls.
I sailed home and left your frozen paradise
and today, I saw a girl I liked and lifted my heavy eyes.
She was dressed in white, feet all bare
I wonder
What if Jesus Christ had bleached blonde hair?
Jun 4, 2016
Jun 4, 2016 at 1:43 PM UTC
I guess I’m okay… What more can I say?
Forget it—never mind,
You wouldn’t understand anyway,
Would you even know what it's like?
Inside a scattered disconnected mind,
Employed to go on strike?
Where indirect misdirect
The sincerity at play,
When sinusoidal chaos spikes
And past meets the future present day?
As paranoid points outlandishly connect
At intervals of broken lines,
Memory lost in recollect,
An array of misshaped bells
Internally infect the eternal confines
Of infinite distributional decay,
Parallels with no intersect,
Streetwise cells with empty signs,
Burned out lights, potholes, and landmines,
Littered all the way.
How am I to convey that all those times
You let your mind wander away
That I was reading, thinking, dreaming,
Teeming, never idle, never strayed,
Seeing, being, so far and away,
Even the brightest intellect beaming,
Could not grasp the feeling
In the slightest of highest orders reeling,
Wound unbound, or as it would be seeming,
Imperfect, even to the disarray
Of the tamest prefect, whose verdict
Could not predict the reflect,
For in this world, seeing is deceiving,
As the lamest reject, defect,
Increasingly decreasing,
In simplistic bliss obey
Crowned unsound fallacies
That contradict all meaning,
Hiding behind reality, the actualities
Lest, protect the thoughtlessness perceiving,
Let me stop you if I may...
I must interject for I digress,
What nonsense was I weaving?
Forget it—I've lost my mind,
I best be leaving,
What more can I say?
It's periodic I must confess,
You probably don't care anyway,
Yeah, yeah, I'll be okay,
Until next time I guess,
I wouldn't want to be misleading.
May 24, 2018
May 24, 2018 at 10:10 AM UTC
Somewhat back from the village street
Stands the old-fashioned country-seat.
Across its antique portico
Tall poplar-trees their shadows throw;
And from its station in the hall
An ancient timepiece says to all,—
“Forever—never!
Never—forever!”
Half-way up the stairs it stands,
And points and beckons with its hands
From its case of massive oak,
Like a monk, who, under his cloak,
Crosses himself, and sighs, alas!
With sorrowful voice to all who pass,—
“Forever—never!
Never—forever!”
By day its voice is low and light;
But in the silent dead of night,
Distinct as a passing footstep’s fall,
It echoes along the vacant hall,
Along the ceiling, along the floor,
And seems to say, at each chamber-door,—
“Forever—never!
Never—forever!”
Through days of sorrow and of mirth,
Through days of death and days of birth,
Through every swift vicissitude
Of changeful time, unchanged it has stood,
And as if, like God, it all things saw,
It calmly repeats those words of awe,—
“Forever—never!
Never—forever!”
In that mansion used to be
Free-hearted Hospitality;
His great fires up the chimney roared;
The stranger feasted at his board;
But, like the skeleton at the feast,
That warning timepiece never ceased,—
“Forever—never!
Never—forever!”
There groups of merry children played,
There youths and maidens dreaming strayed;
O precious hours! O golden prime,
And affluence of love and time!
Even as a miser counts his gold,
Those hours the ancient timepiece told,—
“Forever—never!
Never—forever!”
From that chamber, clothed in white,
The bride came forth on her wedding night;
There, in that silent room below,
The dead lay in his shroud of snow;
And in the hush that followed the prayer,
Was heard the old clock on the stair,—
“Forever—never!
Never—forever!”
All are scattered now and fled,
Some are married, some are dead;
And when I ask, with throbs of pain,
“Ah! when shall they all meet again?”
As in the days long since gone by,
The ancient timepiece makes reply,—
“Forever—never!
Never—forever!”
Never here, forever there,
Where all parting, pain, and care,
And death, and time shall disappear,—
Forever there, but never here!
The horologe of Eternity
Sayeth this incessantly,—
“Forever—never!
Never—forever!”
3.6k
People say they want to try
to fix the World's problems,
yet few do more than simply imply
that the Symptoms are the problem;
We need to stop simply treating Symptoms
and begin again to seek the Source;
only then can we begin to progress
and begin again to Harmonize.
But they don't really want that;
you see, they like the World's problems:
Perhaps they see it as Vindication
for propagating their vitriolic Dogmas.
Perhaps they seek to seize control
of Earth and her Inhabitants,
or perhaps they seek to establish
lucrative business contracts.
In any case, it seems to me to be the case
that they'd have stopped some problems, just in case;
that is, if the case was that they truly and earnestly sought to:
The World's Problems ensure future Business
for the Military-Industrial Complex.
The World's Problems enure future Business
for the Pharmaceutical-Industrial Complex.
The World's Problems ensure future Business
for the Disedification-Industrial Complex.
The World's Problems ensure future Business
for Banks, Demagogues, Tyrants, Corporations and Thieves
(sometimes all are one in the same!)
-
We need to stop dwelling upon the Symptoms
and do something about the ******* Source;
It's about time we, as Humans, stood up to this; our Wretched System,
for precisely the same ideals it so facetiously claims:
Justice, Equality,
Freedom, Liberty,
Tranquility, Solidarity,
Opportunity, Prosperity;
We have strayed.
We have been betrayed.
We are being played:
We should be ******* irate.
Irate, and yet Calm.
Non-violent, yet resisting:
Civil Disobedience is a Virtue
in a World such as This.
Civil Disobedience is a Symptom
of a World such as This.
Jun 26, 2013
Jun 26, 2013 at 10:01 PM UTC