"sums" poems
I’m in my prime; at the cusp of my development.
A few more years of growth make decay a lot more relevant…
*Glass Elephant,
Glass Elephant,*
Irrelevance, benevolence,
Compassion, or malevolence;
I’m one of few who sees it sums no difference.
Glass objects.
Or Elephants.
Irrelevance,
Irrelevance
Striving for motion, with motive elusive
Each thing I endeavor is far too exclusive
I need something inclusive, objectively singular
A sinusoidal wave with a mean lacking integers
Peace in zero and equilibrium inclusion
*Glass Elephant
Glass Elephant*
Delusions, Delusions
Feb 3, 2015
Feb 3, 2015 at 3:58 PM UTC
in math class
and all we talk about is algebra
adding and subtracting
absolute values and square roots
when all on my mind is you
and as long as i add you to my day
it already sums up my week
but if you subtract yourself from my life
i'd fail even before the day ends
and i'd crumble faster than a
simple division equation
{j.m.}
Aug 1, 2014
Aug 1, 2014 at 9:16 AM UTC
The prologues are over. It is a question, now,
Of final belief. So, say that final belief
Must be in a fiction. It is time to choose.
I
That obsolete fiction of the wide river in
An empty land; the gods that Boucher killed;
And the metal heroes that time granulates -
The philosophers' man alone still walks in dew,
Still by the sea-side mutters milky lines
Concerning an immaculate imagery.
If you say on the hautboy man is not enough,
Can never stand as a god, is ever wrong
In the end, however naked, tall, there is still
The impossible possible philosophers' man,
The man who has had the time to think enough,
The central man, the human globe, responsive
As a mirror with a voice, the man of glass,
Who in a million diamonds sums us up.
II
He is the transparence of the place in which
He is and in his poems we find peace.
He sets this peddler's pie and cries in summer,
The glass man, cold and numbered, dewily cries,
"Thou art not August unless I make thee so."
Clandestine steps upon imagined stairs
Climb through the night, because his cuckoos call.
III
One year, death and war prevented the jasmine scent
And the jasmine islands were ****** martyrdoms.
How was it then with the central man? Did we
Find peace? We found the sum of men. We found,
If we found the central evil, the central good.
We buried the fallen without jasmine crowns.
There was nothing he did not suffer, no; nor we.
It was not as if the jasmine ever returned.
But we and the diamond globe at last were one.
We had always been partly one. It was as we came
To see him, that we were wholly one, as we heard
Him chanting for those buried in their blood,
In the jasmine haunted forests, that we knew
The glass man, without external reference.
17k
Stumbling into ancient scripts, authored a decades plus ago,
ago being a modifier of time quantities, minute or large, unspecific
without an objective adjective additive, that faucets a stream of an interlocutory elocution of a batter of rooted emotional histories,
but not histrionics
fanciful words for dredged up memories, acute, but tarnished,
powered yet worn by a cousin of ago, a/k/a,
age
and yet
renews as of,
at this very second, as if it were a first, a tumult of visions, swelling of remembrances, embodied scars, and I weep anew but not
for me, as much for the resonating simpatico souls with whom
they even now vibrate with resonance of the immediacy of
If not now, When?
Aside: The exterior environment is noisy wet pelting of thunderstorms and ****** sheets of bulleting rain, piercing projectiles, but I am safe in the sunroom, sadly happy my dog is no longer here to shiver and tremble, cuddle and be soothed by steady stroking
But I am here, wrestling with this dredging operation, digging up
tons of sand that require dumping, and I ask, inquire, beg:
Who will take this detritus off my hands, once more, now uncovered,
now recovered, the soil is already soaked and can absorb no more,
the soul is already soaked and can absorb no more, the weakened
heart, damaged and occluded, suffer cannot bare twice the
outrageous misfortune
of unbared recollections, twice, or thrice, and I feel myself drowning in revisiting pain, **** **** **** these old poems, not nuggets, but boulders dropping from night skies, shot from a pitching machine, without letup, piercing of agonies that once ago
freshly desecrated and decorated my basic training in humanity.
Enough whining:
*I wrote those poems to
eject out those pains,
and I write this now, once more,
to realize that so so many still face
uncertain and unrelenting similarities,
doing their own sums,
and I wish them easing,
strength to compose and
thereby dispose of
the ineloquent
and eloquent
words of staining suffering*
3:30am
Thur
July 10
2025
Jul 16, 2025
Jul 16, 2025 at 5:39 PM UTC
I want to write you a trilogy on the stages
in which our relationship formed.
The first book would be solely based on the day
that I stopped treating your text messages
like active landmines. Stopped tiptoeing.
No longer being afraid of what your affection
would do to me once I submit to it.
It would be based on the first step I took to
stop being so **** afraid. From that very day
you've helped me in ways I'll never be able to fully explain.
Helped me let go of fear and trepidation, and open
my heart to the greatest thing in the world; your love.
The second would revolve around the first time you kissed me.
I don't know if you noticed, but my knees buckled
like seatbelts and I shook like glass window panes in torrential rain.
That day you awoke something inside me that I didn't know existed
but I'm so glad you found it. Like a stray kitten I was lost
and you brought me back home without questioning where I'd been,
and I'll never fully understand why, but I guess it doesn't matter.
You've taught me not to overthink things, to just revel in the moment.
The third would be set in here and now. Every forehead kiss
and stolen glance sums up to another page, every loving gesture
is another chapter. We are creating something people wish they
could create for themselves. A love that belongs in museums
to teach the world what it really means to give yourself to someone,
with no fear, and not a single ounce of regret. To say that you changed
my life is an understatement. You altered my way of thinking.
Took a broken thing and made it new again. Made me, new again.
And with every word that slips from your lips I am reborn.
Apr 3, 2016
Apr 3, 2016 at 11:25 PM UTC
An accountant: A number poet. That about sums it up.
Jun 26, 2015
Jun 26, 2015 at 7:40 AM UTC
There once was a black man... Old at heart, he fought verbally and accordingly with bold words, which abbreviated and arbitrated great art! He spoke of activism. Not just racial, and economic racism. He fought against demonic injustices for you, yes, made me see. He stood for principles of non-violence. Acknowledged corrupt government
mileage, European knowledge and college. A philosopher, teacher
and preacher as well as a civil rights leader. When he spoke his words of fire indeed chiseled and inspired. Causing some to conspire and also perspire! Born January 15th 1929 in Atlanta, Georgia. Named in honor of the German protestant Martin Luther. Bachelor of Arts
degree in sociology. Making a mark in doctoral studies, systematic theology. June 5th 1955 This King married Corretta Scott in Heiberger,
Alabama for many to see. Proceeding with four children: Yolanda, Martin Luther the 3rd to be! Dexter Scott and Bernice to increase the peace. Despite the European police, the movements and stressed
protests, the silence, ****** and racial violence. The segregation and interrogations in force, instead of integration of course. Black mishaps, lack of differences in relapse perhaps! Plagiarized and slandered, demised by some of the wise. Accused of communistic ties. Blinded
by others’ eyes and of our world’s twisted lies. Montgomery, Georgia
bus boycott, 1955 was the year. However, forever in disguise, our fear of tears was apparently adhered. From here to near, also all those dear. Mere letters he wrote, from Birmingham jail I quote! From the slums, some of sums, hail and prevail! A creation prevailing into a deriving and thriving nation. Mr. King’s vision of a dream, mission,
opposition, optimism and truism, on our wars, welfare and more. I suppose this sounds honest and fair. Mr. King’s theories and worries in emotionalism, evangelism, humanitarianism, racism and socialism. Nobel Peace Prize won in 1964. Regretfully, you may have heard of this before. Government conspiracies and indecencies. Assassination
and discrimination, allegedly, by James Earl Ray. On April 4th, I
almost choke, because for him, his blood did soak. Some thought this **** was a thrill or forced by will. Others still procrastinate in hate! However, forever Martin Luther King was and still is one of the late greats.
Mar 26, 2012
Mar 26, 2012 at 12:53 PM UTC
The greatest to ever play the game
Leo Messi, the synonym of Fame.
World stops when he starts to play
Lightning fast, defenders he slay.
When he plays, sun loses its shine
Footballing world ruled by an Argentine.
His passing and finishing is sublime
Surely the greatest of all time.
Because of you, Barca has survived
Watching you play makes us feel alive.
With every game makes his fans proud
While playing he owns the crowd.
Every time he plays its like fictional story.
Trophies that's sums up his career glories
The name engraved on football legacy.
Messi the world's greatest Treasury.
Jun 23, 2019
Jun 23, 2019 at 5:58 PM UTC
I went to church today
I don't know what I was trying to find
Hopes? Dreams? A figure to follow and some worthy morals?
I wanted advice, I wanted to feel alive
I left there with these words resonating in my head
"Homosexuality and suicide are abominable"
a short phrase that sums the fancy and elaborated speech of the preacher
Only the sinful suffer, and I guess that's why I am troubled.
I've thought of suicide jokingly and seductively
more times that I could possibly count
I have kissed girls and I am openly attracted to them
I am not afraid of saying it and with respect, showing it.
According to the bible;
Lesbians and gays was a punishment for not obeying God
Suicide is a way of controlling your faith
And the only one that has power over you is the Lord.
God gives you what he thinks you deserve
He knows you since before you where born
and because of that he is more responsible of yourself
than yourself itself.
Your brains are too small
how dare you to contradict the all powerful one with such disturbing thoughts?
He created all and everything, all and nothing
He knows what he is doing, and in no way you can try to question him
I felt more small and insignificant than ever,
How did a invisible figure matter more than my logical arguments?
Can't I decide what I want? Isn't it my body and my emotions the one in play?
There's other 8 billion people and you try to guilt trip me because I want to end it all?
Sinners will suffer only the prayer can save you, you can't save yourself, God will save you.
Isn't it better to try to put myself together? Wouldn't I be learning more with that experience?
Instead of repeating words of prayers, shouldn't It try to save myself or solve the problems?
How dare you to contradict the all powerful one with such disturbing thoughts!
If God chooses to give you what he believes is right
Then why am I the one in so much pain?
Why good things doesn't happen to good people and to the bad ones bad things?
Is it because the bad ones will always pray?
I went to church today
I tried to find support,
I wanted to confess
"Hey, I want to **** myself"
I thought that well...
If so many people could feel happy by worshiping
I didn't loose anything by trying
I instead ended up gaining: guilt, trouble, and a feeling that I will burn in hell
May 22, 2013
May 22, 2013 at 2:31 AM UTC
Macavity’s a Mystery Cat: he’s called the Hidden Paw—
For he’s the master criminal who can defy the Law.
He’s the bafflement of Scotland Yard, the Flying Squad’s despair:
For when they reach the scene of crime—Macavity’s not there!
Macavity, Macavity, there’s no on like Macavity,
He’s broken every human law, he breaks the law of gravity.
His powers of levitation would make a fakir stare,
And when you reach the scene of crime—Macavity’s not there!
You may seek him in the basement, you may look up in the air—
But I tell you once and once again, Macavity’s not there!
Macavity’s a ginger cat, he’s very tall and thin;
You would know him if you saw him, for his eyes are sunken in.
His brow is deeply lined with thought, his head is highly doomed;
His coat is dusty from neglect, his whiskers are uncombed.
He sways his head from side to side, with movements like a snake;
And when you think he’s half asleep, he’s always wide awake.
Macavity, Macavity, there’s no one like Macavity,
For he’s a fiend in feline shape, a monster of depravity.
You may meet him in a by-street, you may see him in the square—
But when a crime’s discovered, then Macavity’s not there!
He’s outwardly respectable. (They say he cheats at cards.)
And his footprints are not found in any file of Scotland Yard’s.
And when the larder’s looted, or the jewel-case is rifled,
Or when the milk is missing, or another Peke’s been stifled,
Or the greenhouse glass is broken, and the trellis past repair—
Ay, there’s the wonder of the thing! Macavity’s not there!
And when the Foreign Office finds a Treaty’s gone astray,
Or the Admiralty lose some plans and drawings by the way,
There may be a scap of paper in the hall or on the stair—
But it’s useless of investigate—Macavity’s not there!
And when the loss has been disclosed, the Secret Service say:
“It must have been Macavity!”—but he’s a mile away.
You’ll be sure to find him resting, or a-licking of his thumbs,
Or engaged in doing complicated long division sums.
Macavity, Macavity, there’s no one like Macacity,
There never was a Cat of such deceitfulness and suavity.
He always has an alibit, or one or two to spare:
And whatever time the deed took place—MACAVITY WASN’T THERE!
And they say that all the Cats whose wicked deeds are widely known
(I might mention Mungojerrie, I might mention Griddlebone)
Are nothing more than agents for the Cat who all the time
Just controls their operations: the Napoleon of Crime!
5k
*she returns from her classes,
ballet, yoga, core something and Zumba for flavoring,
her hair, an upward, toe pointing cannon of mop mess,
her face glowing flushed,
one look and I know she is both,
morphing high,
wipeout exhausted
a little ritual she performs somewhere between
"it was great and she (the instructor) killed us,"
auto sub conscious,
she looks herself over,
twisting elegantly like the
Argentine tango dancer she is,
in the mirrored closet doors
raising both arms to see (show off)
the sums of her endeavors,
the exoskeletal musculature
she has earned,
a life long effort,
like a prize fighter as he
macho enters the ring,
an alpha male gesture
if ever there was one,
made over to say,
hey boy, look at me!
*and the boy looks her over,
always thinking, but never revealing,
that it is her muscles of mindfulness and mercy,
that take his breath away, the ones that are worked out daily,
the ones that surround and work the heart beating,
the lung inhaler of humans in need,
exhaling the richest
oxygen for others to breathe
and the boy does his service,
providing a "wow" or "very impressive,"
only you and he know his real thinking,
and his muscle memories secret,
you to keep, just between us,
and his secret identity, only love poetry...*
8:52pm 7/20/17
Jul 20, 2017
Jul 20, 2017 at 8:59 PM UTC
He moved away in 5th grade
A few towns down
Never saw him or heard of him
after that
until
the news.
Taught me how to write my number 9's
Fancy like they did in the text book
We joked about movies we liked
in 3rd grade
But he was hit by a car
and killed at age 13
1/3 of our middle school
hung our heads like a
rusty sign
on a graveyard gate
and the other 2/3 chatted
about not knowing him
All he is known for now is his ending
The news advertised his life
as "Hit by a car and died"
The obituary sums him up
but only we know the real him
and what lies behind that title
May 28, 2014
May 28, 2014 at 8:09 PM UTC
A lovely Latina caught Don Sterling’s eye
And, for sure, there’s no fool like an old one.
It helped he has Billions, You know I don’t lie-
because you must give sums to get some.
His wife got upset, (you know how they get)
As she saw their cash flow out the door.
“Two cars and a condo! I’ll make him regret
the day he encountered that *****
The wife sued the mistress for her “ill gotten” gains,
half of it hers by the law.
Then they caught Don, on tape,
Spewing sound bites of hate-
Now he can’t run his team anymore.
A little blue pill can do old men ill-
It deceives them to think they’re a Stallion.
The next time you reach for an eighteen year old, Don,
I suggest that you pour a MacCallan.
May 6, 2014
May 6, 2014 at 8:59 AM UTC
Hell shimmies when I am blunted ;
When I take a knock to the senses
When I am skinless,
singing stings
and misdirected by pain
If I had trained better
I'd be deep sea
Sussing distant messages
Operating with slight tremors, vocals and movement
and only when correct...
I'd be home
I'd be instrument
Not an act
Not a pet to society
No mood fool ;
flaked,
flooded
and littered
Rapped at by experiences
Attack reacting
An embarrassment
Watching my own pattern spooling
the same sums
and spoiling with repetition
Jul 25, 2018
Jul 25, 2018 at 11:29 PM UTC
Prahu opines re the mathematics of love
Her equations hypotenuse me,
So I write adjacently,
As if we were cosine functionalities.
A special formula,
A Hyperbolic Cosine,
For to equate love mathematically,
We must use verbal hyperbole.
Binomials, the pair of loves,
Coefficient Trekkers,
On the mountains of waves,
To a product infinite.
So let us,
Reductio ad absurdum
That love is pointless.
Nah, nope.
Love is the point on a curve
that never stops moving,
Even as the curve forever, bending
And the possibilities,
Exponential...
In the sums of love,
The finite answer is always two.
So let us be clear,
This exercise has made me late
For work,
For which
I express my appreciation as follows:
X = xo,
Or
Summation Expansion
e e= 1 / n!
= 1/1 + 1/1 + 1/2 + 1/6 + ... see constant e
e -1 = (-1) n / n!
= 1/1 - 1/1 + 1/2 - 1/6 + ...
e x = xn / n!
= 1/1 + x/1 + x2 / 2 + x3 / 6 + ...
Sep 19, 2013
Sep 19, 2013 at 6:45 AM UTC
1291
Until the Desert knows
That Water grows
His Sands suffice
But let him once suspect
That Caspian Fact
Sahara dies
Utmost is relative—
Have not or Have
Adjacent sums
Enough—the first Abode
On the familiar Road
Galloped in Dreams—
3.8k
All I want is a rewind to those times
When we talked for a long while
Seated under street lights
We were always together at nights
Staring at the moonlight
Our minds were filled with doubts
About what our future seems like
Then it went viral
That we were together
You asked how
I still don't know why
And it all sums up to now
Thinking of how we drifted apart
It was just too fast
But that was all in the past
All I wish for now is a rewind
So I can win back your heart
I really need a rewind ......
Apr 10, 2018
Apr 10, 2018 at 10:06 AM UTC
Washington DC deeply mourns
Elegance at its best
The horizon of sunrise to sun down which can both contest
The term “STAND BY YOUR MAN”
Nancy Reagan fits that caravan
Social butterfly
Nancy Reagan was her married last name
But her life also surrounded Hollywood in bringing her fame
Yet Nancy Reagan had a very fulfilled life
She lived throughout her creed
Her mission was to continue to proceed
Nancy Reagan’s name known throughout the world
The world’s heart captivated in tears
But her life contributed in having no fears
It was Nancy Reagan’s pause being her own class act
This is a true known fact
There was emptiness in her heart, and she longed to hear her late husband Ronald Reagan voice once again
Ronald Reagan’s voice did call
I saved you a place to be by my side
Heaven was all prepared
The chariot was set just right
Suddenly there was a strong beaming light
Nancy Reagan responded that the light was extremely bright
It was the signal for Nancy Reagan to come up
I saw two flying Doves
It was each in enduring love
Nancy Reagan will be missed
She left an enriched and embraced life
But she also states, don’t mourn long for me
I am at rest in a place I want to be
Yes I was Nancy Reagan for all to see
But I want you to remember me as Nancy
You know, the one into fashion and fancy
My three components, COMMITMENT, DETERMINATION AND DESTINED
This sums up Nancy Reagan’s life while she lived
Her devotion in time that she would normally give
Her motto, Live on, but be involved
The world’s problems, just try to solve
My legacy of who I was speaks for itself
Don’t think of me like everybody else
As a Dove, I must fly on to the next chapter of my life
A journey far and long, but Heaven is where I belong
I hear music in my arrival
I hear singing of joy
My life has been fulfilled and I want you all to carry on still
I say until we meet again to all my loving friends.
Mar 7, 2016
Mar 7, 2016 at 7:15 PM UTC
The Beauty Of Wisdom And Intelligence,
You are seen in the Cosmic Reality herself,
You are the female part of Christ, called Wisdom and Intelligence,
Your Cosmic Math's is a beautiful thing to behold,
That a unlearned person like me who loves sports like me who is too unlearned in the world's eyes to understand the beauty of the Math's of the Cosmic Reality herself,
So only the real genius mind's understand your true beauty in the Cosmic Reality herself,
But I was good enough at math's at college to get a 98% in a test score and student tutored a girl in class called Bev.
But Wisdom and Intelligence; you really enlightened great minds like Newton, Einstein and Hawking's?
So Wisdom and Intelligence hear my simple math's plea, I am alone and the math's of Wisdom and Intelligence say's its not right for man to be alone?
So make the one alone into two and then the two become one again?
So my math's is simple and unlearned by Wisdom and Intelligence's mathematical eyes; but its the most beautiful sum in the Cosmic Reality herself?
So Wisdom and Intelligence says I've done the math's?
I've marked your sum; I have graded your test paper A+ and gifted you a younger sister bride to be the sum of sums for all eternality,
This younger sister bride will never divide her love for you,
Because one divide into two should stay two, but by theoretical mathematician's the two become the perfect nought number of one raised to nought or zero power nought or zero is one for all eternality,
You shall always be one in body, heart, mind and soul,
You will always have Wisdom and Intelligence tutoring you about the beauty in the Math's of the Cosmic Reality herself,
But never forget to look up at the star's, nebula's and galaxies together and the two who are one see the Math's of love in each other's eyes and the math's of love in the Cosmic Reality herself.
Dec 30, 2021
Dec 30, 2021 at 11:14 AM UTC
It’s amazing how one hospital trip can change the rest of your life. Or even lack of one even. He was four. I, three. It was late, I had no idea why I was going to Bridget and John’s house. More importantly, I didn’t know why Zack wasn’t coming with me. 11 pm, I guess that’s pretty late for a three year old. I don’t think at that point I really had any grasp on what was actually happening. That nothing would ever be the same again. Half asleep, trudging to that sliding glass door I’d seen hundreds of times. I went into the house, the aroma of sweet cinnamon and love hung in the air.
Burnt toast and peanut butter. That pretty much sums up an entire year of my life. Three years old, and for almost every weekend, which was too many, spent with Bridget and John, sleepless nights and peanut butter toast. There was: late night toast, midnight toast, way too early morning toast, morning toast, breakfast toast, too much toast. I think I was a picky three year old, then again, that isn’t exactly unheard of. I wasn’t very fond of peanut butter or toast, but I still ate it. I yearned for a sweet taste of normality. I craved something routine. Funny, because my life was everything but normal during that year. Funny, because I will never eat peanut butter toast ever, again.
Many nights spent waiting for an answer. Wishing to go back, and hoping for everything to be okay. But as the car rolled out of the gravel driveway on that first night, so did an unmedicated future for my brother.
May 22, 2013
May 22, 2013 at 8:45 PM UTC
force fed lies from birth
subliminal messages infest my upbringing
blindfolded by greed
I don't see you starve
or smell the pollution
I can't hear the bullets flying
because my ears are stuffed with lies
they say the government has my interests at heart
that the school systems are built to support me
and we're more equal than ever
so why is the wage gap wider than my young eyes
and how is it that a country that screams freedom
won't put down their weapons
when their children are bleeding
why do I know how to dissect a frog
ignorant of the fact innocent civilians are slaughtered
intestines on display
like the green amphibian under my knife
because I can kiss a girl
in a drunken game of spin the bottle
but such an act would get me killed in 11 countries
and is still illegal in 72
why do I know the sum of internal angles in a triangle
yet I don't know how
to read the signs of suicidal friends
when statistically 1 out of 5 people I roam the halls with
struggle with a mental illness
even though more than half of those suffering
have no access to treatment
we are collectively clueless
I am no stranger to privilege
my gratitude is not withheld
but why am I more worthy
than the child forced out of his country
for his religious identity,
for being himself?
why when accessing the privilege of education
they don't teach me how to help other humans
when did sums become more important
than knowledge of current wars
did you know there's more than 10 of them?
because I've only heard of one
I believe that you choose to do nothing
but if i am never aware that I have a choice
nothing can change
and even though everyone has a voice
people with the solutions only choose to hear those with a status
how is it that such screams of desperation
sound so quiet to them
why are those in power of whole countries
so blind to our demands
why do they make things impossibly easier
for those whom already have wealth and advantage
when those stripped of human rights
always seem to escape their greedy sight
but some of us have something they fear
something that never crossed their closed minds
we have the power to create our own opportunities
we can force those whom are voluntarily deaf to hear
so hear me in my passage only seen by very few
this platform may be small but my words shout at you
an action no matter how small
a voice no matter how soft
provokes change if not in yourself
then in even the most unfamiliar faces
but the difference between thinking and action making
is you
Jul 28, 2018
Jul 28, 2018 at 10:56 AM UTC
The name was Antappan.
On his wedding invitation
He printed the famous words
Hodie Mihi Cras Tibi -
(Today it's me, tomorrow it will be you.)
Whoever asked
“Are you nuts, Antappaaa?”
Got a voiceless laugh in reply.
In native tongue
The laughter said
No quotes are quoted
Except through one’s own life.
Though not a charming name
It ‘s true that from that day
Antappan came to be called
Hodie Mihi Cras Tibi Antappan.
Everyone who attended
Hodie Mihi Cras Tibi Antappan’s wedding
Wolfed down the pork and the beef.
Everyone who attended
Hodie Mihi CrasTibi Antappan’s wedding
Gifted pretty sums of money in envelopes.
Everyone who attended
Hodie Mihi Cras Tibi Antappan’s wedding
Said nasty comments about the bride.
Everyone who attended
Hodie Mihi Cras Tibi Antappan’s wedding
Asked the sound system guy to play
You are lucky I am lucky loudly.
But before that a small incident at the church. As soon as he set his eyes on Antappan who was a grave digger the Chaplain forgot the wedding and without asking who died began to set the church bell tolling in that rhythm reserved for deaths. The senior Priest who heard it came running and opening the small prayer book for the dead began to sing the song the seeds sprout in the fields when it rains. Hearing that the girls in the choir sang the rest of the song when they hear the clarion call life sprouts in the dead and went on to the prose portion I call you lord from the abysses. Seeing that the boy who helps with the communion lighted the candle and incense stick for the dead. (Meanwhile the bride’s naughty song you who is not dead yet will you not **** me tonight also rang in Hodie Mihi Cras Tibi Antappan’s ears.) Hodie Mihi Cras Tibi Antappan who realized that the same flowers meant to be wreaths at some house of death were now adorning his ***** as a garland laughed his famous voiceless laugh.
Nov 17, 2014
Nov 17, 2014 at 1:25 AM UTC
We live in a society
Where not giving a **** about what others think,
Is actually encouraged.
We live in a society that is completely built on lies.
When did sums become more important,
than knowledge of current wars?
Why is the wage gap wider than my young eyes?
And how is it that a Country that screams freedom,
won't put down their weapons when their own children are bleeding?
Why do I know how to dissect a frog,
ignorant of the fact innocent civilians are slaughtered?
Why do I know the sum of internal angles in a triangle,
Yet I don't know how to read the signs of suicidal friends,
When more than half of those suffering have no access to treatment!!??
Why am I more "worthy" than the child forced out of his own country;
for his religious identity, for being himself!?!
Why are those in power of whole Countries so blind to our demands?
When did being part of a religion become a crime?
Why do we need so badly for someone to love us?
Why should our weight define whether or not we belong?
© Copyright Tyler Atherton
Sep 9, 2018
Sep 9, 2018 at 4:59 AM UTC
Unthrifty loveliness, why dost thou spend
Upon thy self thy beauty’s legacy?
Nature’s bequest gives nothing, but doth lend,
And being frank she lends to those are free.
Then, beauteous niggard why dost thou abuse,
The bounteous largess given thee to give?
Profitless usurer, why dost thou use
So great a sum of sums yet canst not live?
For having traffic with thyself alone,
Thou of thyself thy sweet self dost deceive.
Then how when nature calls thee to be gone,
What acceptable audit canst thou leave?
Thy unused beauty must be tombed with thee,
Which usèd, lives th’ executor to be.
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