"territories" poems - Hello Poetry

"territories" poems

A late hour indeed, darkness over land, but A bright light shines from a moon above As a shadow sweeps across the surface. For a moment, it stands emblazoned, precarious Adumbrated phoenix in the sky, But it does not flare out. Sweeping lower, the form resolves, Alights narrowly on a fine branch. For a moment, it struggles for balance But soon it finds a niche, stands true; Visage of wisdom in the night But not without flaw Not the swiftest, lacking in grace Lost territories in cunctation. Still, secure in its plumage, Into the night, ready to fly: Hunter poised in the trees It soars aloft Nearby, another branch inhabited Not a vision this one, a voice. A lighter weight, a softer presence Harmonious to the calm Tones of beauty to the air It rings forth Awhile, this one too struggled It tried the songs of the mockingbird Some rang esthetic, others strange, But now its own song found: Anthem sung for the heart Chorus all may hear Birds of the night. Dark to dawn Their habits thus have been. Now with the new morning, A change in the season; Mind and Song together to the sky Light out for the lit horizon … ~D.B. Guy (May 2008)

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Nov 3, 2012

Nov 3, 2012 at 2:23 AM UTC

Owl and Nightingale

A late hour indeed, darkness over land, but A bright light shines from a moon above As a shadow sweeps across the surface. For a moment, it stands emblazoned, precarious Adumbrated phoenix in the sky, But it does not flare out. Sweeping lower, the form resolves, Alights narrowly on a fine branch. For a moment, it struggles for balance But soon it finds a niche, stands true; Visage of wisdom in the night But not without flaw Not the swiftest, lacking in grace Lost territories in cunctation. Still, secure in its plumage, Into the night, ready to fly: Hunter poised in the trees It soars aloft Nearby, another branch inhabited Not a vision this one, a voice. A lighter weight, a softer presence Harmonious to the calm Tones of beauty to the air It rings forth Awhile, this one too struggled It tried the songs of the mockingbird Some rang esthetic, others strange, But now its own song found: Anthem sung for the heart Chorus all may hear Birds of the night. Dark to dawn Their habits thus have been. Now with the new morning, A change in the season; Mind and Song together to the sky Light out for the lit horizon … ~D.B. Guy (May 2008)

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Look in the mirror Look at the clock Look at the time It never has stopped It only goes forward It's a one way walk See how you have been growing You ask yourself, "where have the days been going?" Time can only progress Yes, the river of life is always flowing We lived cabins And castles and caves We came from Adam and eve We evolved from apes From Socrates and Homer To Napoleon and Alexander the Great The minds that desired knowing And the enlightened ones glowing People can only advance Yes the river of life is always flowing Revolutions and rebellions Riots and revolts Great discoveries A key, a kite and a lightning bolt Great writings and inventions Innovations from inspiring jolts Improvement was showing To the future the world was going Humanity only began to develop Yes the river of life is always flowing Religions and sciences Economics and politics Television and radio Monarchies and dictatorships Tanks and machine guns Atomic bombs and battle ships We went from arrow shooting and spear throwing The muskets needed reloading To nuclear weapons Yes the river of life is always flowing Exploring new lands To find the world wasn't flat To find silver and gold And buried artifacts To establish new territories And expand the map The searching ship kept rowing As civilization went on growing Accomplishments of the past Yes the river of life is always flowing Boats and rail roads Fair trade and industry World wide markets Over land and sea To keep out nations going And stablize the economy But now every country has money that they're owing And the land that they're owning Is has evolved Yes the river of life is always flowing Social reforms Counter cultures fight They protest strongly For equal civil rights The world's in constant change Every day turns into night Every opening has its closing And then it comes back again As long as there's someone hoping Yes the river of life is always flowing We put people into space We have fought for equality Created a world from nothing And advanced technology We've struggle to go to where we are And continue to go strongly The opportunities fate has been bestowing We look forward to see what is ahead The memories and mysteries the hourglass is holding Yes the river of life is always flowing

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Apr 23, 2014

Apr 23, 2014 at 2:40 PM UTC

The River of Life is Always Flowing

Look in the mirror Look at the clock Look at the time It never has stopped It only goes forward It's a one way walk See how you have been growing You ask yourself, "where have the days been going?" Time can only progress Yes, the river of life is always flowing We lived cabins And castles and caves We came from Adam and eve We evolved from apes From Socrates and Homer To Napoleon and Alexander the Great The minds that desired knowing And the enlightened ones glowing People can only advance Yes the river of life is always flowing Revolutions and rebellions Riots and revolts Great discoveries A key, a kite and a lightning bolt Great writings and inventions Innovations from inspiring jolts Improvement was showing To the future the world was going Humanity only began to develop Yes the river of life is always flowing Religions and sciences Economics and politics Television and radio Monarchies and dictatorships Tanks and machine guns Atomic bombs and battle ships We went from arrow shooting and spear throwing The muskets needed reloading To nuclear weapons Yes the river of life is always flowing Exploring new lands To find the world wasn't flat To find silver and gold And buried artifacts To establish new territories And expand the map The searching ship kept rowing As civilization went on growing Accomplishments of the past Yes the river of life is always flowing Boats and rail roads Fair trade and industry World wide markets Over land and sea To keep out nations going And stablize the economy But now every country has money that they're owing And the land that they're owning Is has evolved Yes the river of life is always flowing Social reforms Counter cultures fight They protest strongly For equal civil rights The world's in constant change Every day turns into night Every opening has its closing And then it comes back again As long as there's someone hoping Yes the river of life is always flowing We put people into space We have fought for equality Created a world from nothing And advanced technology We've struggle to go to where we are And continue to go strongly The opportunities fate has been bestowing We look forward to see what is ahead The memories and mysteries the hourglass is holding Yes the river of life is always flowing

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The Story by Kamal Nasser translation by Michael R. Burch I will tell you a story ... a story that lived in the dreams of my people, a story that comes from the world of tents. It is a story inspired by hunger and embellished by dark nights of terror. It is the story of my country, a handful of refugees. Every twenty of them have a pound of flour between them and a few promises of relief ... gifts and parcels. It is the story of the suffering ones who stood waiting in line ten years, in hunger, in tears and agony, in hardship and yearning. It is a story of a people who were misled, who were thrown into the mazes of the years. And yet they stood defiant, disrobed yet united as they trudged from the light to their tents: the revolution of return into the world of darkness. Kamal Nasser was a much-admired Palestinian poet and Palestinian Christian, who due to his renowned integrity was known as "The Conscience." He was a member of Jordan's parliament in 1956. He was murdered in 1973 by an Israeli death squad whose most notorious member was future Israeli Prime Minister Ehud Barak. Barak (born Ehud Brog) later ruled as Israel’s tenth Prime Minister from 1999 to 2001. His adopted Hebrew name Barak means "lightning." As a younger man, Brog/Barak was a member of a secret assassination unit that liquidated Palestinians in Lebanon and the occupied territories. In the 1973 covert mission Operation Spring of Youth in Beirut, which was part of the larger Operation Wrath of God, he disguised himself as a woman in order to assassinate Palestinians. The raid resulted in the deaths of two women, one of them an elderly Italian. Two Lebanese policemen were also killed, along with the poet Kamal Nasser. Nasser was the PLO's most prominent Christian and he enjoyed "great appeal" in Lebanon, Syria, and Iraq "both as a distinguished poet and likeable personality." He was the “conscience of the Palestinian revolution,” according to Nazih Abul-Nidal, who worked with him on the magazine Filastin al-Thawra. Nasser “had the most democratic outlook of all Palestinian leaders at the time,” he recalls. He respected opposing views, admired the commitment of young people, and was a major recruitment asset for the Palestinian revolution. “That is why he was put high on the hit-list.” The previous year, the Israelis had murdered another renowned Palestinian writer and activist in Beirut, Ghassan Kanafani, by booby-trapping his car. Nasser’s successor, Majed Abu Sharar, was also assassinated by Israelis, in Rome in 1981 while attending a conference in solidarity with the Palestinian people. Keywords/Tags: Kamal Nasser, Palestinian, Palestine, PLO, Conscience, Ramallah, Christian, religion, poet, Arab, Arabic, Arab Spring, betrayal, conflict, courage, devotion

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Dec 9, 2021

Dec 9, 2021 at 7:55 AM UTC

michael-r-burch

Translation of "The Story" by the Palestinian poet Kamal Nasser

The Story by Kamal Nasser translation by Michael R. Burch I will tell you a story ... a story that lived in the dreams of my people, a story that comes from the world of tents. It is a story inspired by hunger and embellished by dark nights of terror. It is the story of my country, a handful of refugees. Every twenty of them have a pound of flour between them and a few promises of relief ... gifts and parcels. It is the story of the suffering ones who stood waiting in line ten years, in hunger, in tears and agony, in hardship and yearning. It is a story of a people who were misled, who were thrown into the mazes of the years. And yet they stood defiant, disrobed yet united as they trudged from the light to their tents: the revolution of return into the world of darkness. Kamal Nasser was a much-admired Palestinian poet and Palestinian Christian, who due to his renowned integrity was known as "The Conscience." He was a member of Jordan's parliament in 1956. He was murdered in 1973 by an Israeli death squad whose most notorious member was future Israeli Prime Minister Ehud Barak. Barak (born Ehud Brog) later ruled as Israel’s tenth Prime Minister from 1999 to 2001. His adopted Hebrew name Barak means "lightning." As a younger man, Brog/Barak was a member of a secret assassination unit that liquidated Palestinians in Lebanon and the occupied territories. In the 1973 covert mission Operation Spring of Youth in Beirut, which was part of the larger Operation Wrath of God, he disguised himself as a woman in order to assassinate Palestinians. The raid resulted in the deaths of two women, one of them an elderly Italian. Two Lebanese policemen were also killed, along with the poet Kamal Nasser. Nasser was the PLO's most prominent Christian and he enjoyed "great appeal" in Lebanon, Syria, and Iraq "both as a distinguished poet and likeable personality." He was the “conscience of the Palestinian revolution,” according to Nazih Abul-Nidal, who worked with him on the magazine Filastin al-Thawra. Nasser “had the most democratic outlook of all Palestinian leaders at the time,” he recalls. He respected opposing views, admired the commitment of young people, and was a major recruitment asset for the Palestinian revolution. “That is why he was put high on the hit-list.” The previous year, the Israelis had murdered another renowned Palestinian writer and activist in Beirut, Ghassan Kanafani, by booby-trapping his car. Nasser’s successor, Majed Abu Sharar, was also assassinated by Israelis, in Rome in 1981 while attending a conference in solidarity with the Palestinian people. Keywords/Tags: Kamal Nasser, Palestinian, Palestine, PLO, Conscience, Ramallah, Christian, religion, poet, Arab, Arabic, Arab Spring, betrayal, conflict, courage, devotion

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Shopping outfashioned hunting and gathering, Processed beats fresh, Groceries replaced fruit trees, Malls superceded forests, Churches outnumbered temples, Countries dissolved to territories, Places devolved to areas, Paths broke down into highways, Commodity converted to currency, Laborers submit to machinery, Masters engage in humbug, Apprentices reduced to students, Knowledge downgraded to education, And education is deducted to a show of grades, While schools are the stages, And the corporate world is the bigger runway, With work slumped to employment, Wisdom demoted to profession, Where in jobs are the only future, Careers are the only success, Clicking and pressing buttons are skills, Computers are correspondent to brains, Information refers to news reports, Intelligence means up-to-dateness, Browsing is preferable to reading, Studying is in demand more than learning, Viewing things flashed on screens yields awareness, Transportation is to traveling, As buying is to the three basic needs, And needs embody worldly possessions, Worldly possessions define happiness, Happiness is due to selfishness, Selfishness is traced to the lack of love, The lack of love draws from the lack of faith, Because faith stands for religion, And religion stands for membership, Where politicians are the gods, Celebrities are the preachers, And the preachers are the enemies, While networking is equal to friendship, And connection equates to communication, Experiences require photos, Memories necessitate uploading, Souvenirs can be downloaded, Smartphones are substitute to pets, Gadgets are toys, Holding controllers is playing, Watching TV is exploring the great outdoors, Internet is recreation, And technology is a way of life; While humans are scientists, Nature is a guinea pig, And the earth is a laboratory, Where prices are misidentified for worth, Processes are miscalculated as progress, Impoverishment is confused with improvement, And getting more is mistaken as getting better; And then we wonder why Homes have become houses, Family members have become boarders, Nations are separate species Composed of tired and hungry citizens, Children are monsters Who are biochemically rascals, Teenagers are zombies Whose adventures lead to delinquency, Adults are robots Who just clang when touched, And life is not so simple As how it is said to be.

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Oct 15, 2013

Oct 15, 2013 at 5:40 AM UTC

The Nth Trial-and-error

Shopping outfashioned hunting and gathering, Processed beats fresh, Groceries replaced fruit trees, Malls superceded forests, Churches outnumbered temples, Countries dissolved to territories, Places devolved to areas, Paths broke down into highways, Commodity converted to currency, Laborers submit to machinery, Masters engage in humbug, Apprentices reduced to students, Knowledge downgraded to education, And education is deducted to a show of grades, While schools are the stages, And the corporate world is the bigger runway, With work slumped to employment, Wisdom demoted to profession, Where in jobs are the only future, Careers are the only success, Clicking and pressing buttons are skills, Computers are correspondent to brains, Information refers to news reports, Intelligence means up-to-dateness, Browsing is preferable to reading, Studying is in demand more than learning, Viewing things flashed on screens yields awareness, Transportation is to traveling, As buying is to the three basic needs, And needs embody worldly possessions, Worldly possessions define happiness, Happiness is due to selfishness, Selfishness is traced to the lack of love, The lack of love draws from the lack of faith, Because faith stands for religion, And religion stands for membership, Where politicians are the gods, Celebrities are the preachers, And the preachers are the enemies, While networking is equal to friendship, And connection equates to communication, Experiences require photos, Memories necessitate uploading, Souvenirs can be downloaded, Smartphones are substitute to pets, Gadgets are toys, Holding controllers is playing, Watching TV is exploring the great outdoors, Internet is recreation, And technology is a way of life; While humans are scientists, Nature is a guinea pig, And the earth is a laboratory, Where prices are misidentified for worth, Processes are miscalculated as progress, Impoverishment is confused with improvement, And getting more is mistaken as getting better; And then we wonder why Homes have become houses, Family members have become boarders, Nations are separate species Composed of tired and hungry citizens, Children are monsters Who are biochemically rascals, Teenagers are zombies Whose adventures lead to delinquency, Adults are robots Who just clang when touched, And life is not so simple As how it is said to be.

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As our dreams expand We take flight to new territories Soaring higher above the ground Embracing the world between our wingspan Looking down from dizzying heights Once nurtured as a fledgling Lest we not forget the ones who believed in us One day we can soar higher Flying at higher altitudes We can be the ones to give wings to future dreams

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Sep 13, 2014

Sep 13, 2014 at 12:45 AM UTC

As our dreams expand We take flight to new territories Soaring higher above the ground Embracing the world between our wingspan Looking down from dizzying heights Once nurtured as a fledgling Lest we not forget the ones who believed in us One day we can soar higher Flying at higher altitudes We can be the ones to give wings to future dreams

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"Alexander son of Philip, and the Greeks except the Lacedaemonians--" We can very well imagine that they were utterly indifferent in Sparta to this inscription. "Except the Lacedaemonians", but naturally. The Spartans were not to be led and ordered about as precious servants. Besides a panhellenic campaign without a Spartan king as a leader would not have appeared very important. O, of course "except the Lacedaemonians." This too is a stand. Understandable. Thus, except the Lacedaemonians at Granicus; and then at Issus; and in the final battle, where the formidable army was swept away that the Persians had massed at Arbela: which had set out from Arbela for victory, and was swept away. And out of the remarkable panhellenic campaign, victorious, brilliant, celebrated, glorious as no other had ever been glorified, the incomparable: we emerged; a great new Greek world. We; the Alexandrians, the Antiocheans, the Seleucians, and the numerous rest of the Greeks of Egypt and Syria, and of Media, and Persia, and the many others. With our extensive territories, with the varied action of thoughtful adaptations. And the Common Greek Language we carried to the heart of Bactria, to the Indians. As if we were to talk of Lacedaemonians now!

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5.2k

Constantine P. Cavafy

"Alexander son of Philip, and the Greeks except the Lacedaemonians--" We can very well imagine that they were utterly indifferent in Sparta to this inscription. "Except the Lacedaemonians", but naturally. The Spartans were not to be led and ordered about as precious servants. Besides a panhellenic campaign without a Spartan king as a leader would not have appeared very important. O, of course "except the Lacedaemonians." This too is a stand. Understandable. Thus, except the Lacedaemonians at Granicus; and then at Issus; and in the final battle, where the formidable army was swept away that the Persians had massed at Arbela: which had set out from Arbela for victory, and was swept away. And out of the remarkable panhellenic campaign, victorious, brilliant, celebrated, glorious as no other had ever been glorified, the incomparable: we emerged; a great new Greek world. We; the Alexandrians, the Antiocheans, the Seleucians, and the numerous rest of the Greeks of Egypt and Syria, and of Media, and Persia, and the many others. With our extensive territories, with the varied action of thoughtful adaptations. And the Common Greek Language we carried to the heart of Bactria, to the Indians. As if we were to talk of Lacedaemonians now!

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elephants stomp with stone-laden feet back and forth, back and forth, creating cracks in my already-battered skull, weakening the very foundations of my sanity. their trumpeting echoes through cold corridors flooding my thought capacity to the brim. a tightrope walker stretches me, thin - i feel the shifting pressure of her nimble feet treading the territories of my weathered frame, back and forth, back and forth, my skin reddens beneath the incessant crossing as the sinew within me starts to atrophy. in my chest cavity there is a ring of fire, manipulating my lungs and feeble heart to mere ash. two golden eyes seen beyond the flames, ready to leap through them - without the inconvenience of fear weighing down his agile paws, both capable and likely to tear my veins to shreds. a grisly strongman has my bones in his grip. he smiles malevolently, gloating his strength over me, squeezing the life from my cartilage - awaiting the snap. i am cognizant of the sound, but i won't flinch. next, the imminent collapse of my vertebrae - i feel them crumble to dust. he laughs. but it is in the pit of my stomach the ringleader sits - commanding me into subsidence with every crack of his whip. i want to meet his eyes but he only averts my gaze. his twisted circus nearly through, the audience begins to dissipate. i stare through the blurred smoke, desperate for his visage - when i see on one of his faded lapels, the embroidery spells out your name. -m.f.

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Oct 1, 2013

Oct 1, 2013 at 12:03 AM UTC

welcome to the circus

elephants stomp with stone-laden feet back and forth, back and forth, creating cracks in my already-battered skull, weakening the very foundations of my sanity. their trumpeting echoes through cold corridors flooding my thought capacity to the brim. a tightrope walker stretches me, thin - i feel the shifting pressure of her nimble feet treading the territories of my weathered frame, back and forth, back and forth, my skin reddens beneath the incessant crossing as the sinew within me starts to atrophy. in my chest cavity there is a ring of fire, manipulating my lungs and feeble heart to mere ash. two golden eyes seen beyond the flames, ready to leap through them - without the inconvenience of fear weighing down his agile paws, both capable and likely to tear my veins to shreds. a grisly strongman has my bones in his grip. he smiles malevolently, gloating his strength over me, squeezing the life from my cartilage - awaiting the snap. i am cognizant of the sound, but i won't flinch. next, the imminent collapse of my vertebrae - i feel them crumble to dust. he laughs. but it is in the pit of my stomach the ringleader sits - commanding me into subsidence with every crack of his whip. i want to meet his eyes but he only averts my gaze. his twisted circus nearly through, the audience begins to dissipate. i stare through the blurred smoke, desperate for his visage - when i see on one of his faded lapels, the embroidery spells out your name. -m.f.

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Kindness is not nice. Nice is soft and inoffensive. Nice is easy and effects no change, it's cotton wool - not stuffed tight, but just resting on the surface ready to be blown away or trodden into a muddy disinterest. Nice is a damp whisper, a mouse cowering in the corner, taking up as little space as possible, lest it be noticed, lest it presume too much and cause a whisker of offence. Kindness isn't like that - Kindness pushes in, claws out, quick and heavy, uninvited, unexpected, taking pleasure in disturbance, in leaving nothing unsaid and little undone in its pursuit of creating a disruption of difference. Kindness counts everyone a target, anybody a likely candidate for a three act matinee and evening performance of loud Kindness. Surprise is its currency, smiles its language, common humankindness its passport to lands yet to be explored, to vast red territories with drumbeats of gratefulness for the opportunity to march in with regiments of compassion and to leave a signature devastation of brutal Kindness. Kindness is not 'nice'. Kindness is loving awe-ful.

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Dec 24, 2019

Dec 24, 2019 at 3:37 AM UTC

Kindness is not Nice

Kindness is not nice. Nice is soft and inoffensive. Nice is easy and effects no change, it's cotton wool - not stuffed tight, but just resting on the surface ready to be blown away or trodden into a muddy disinterest. Nice is a damp whisper, a mouse cowering in the corner, taking up as little space as possible, lest it be noticed, lest it presume too much and cause a whisker of offence. Kindness isn't like that - Kindness pushes in, claws out, quick and heavy, uninvited, unexpected, taking pleasure in disturbance, in leaving nothing unsaid and little undone in its pursuit of creating a disruption of difference. Kindness counts everyone a target, anybody a likely candidate for a three act matinee and evening performance of loud Kindness. Surprise is its currency, smiles its language, common humankindness its passport to lands yet to be explored, to vast red territories with drumbeats of gratefulness for the opportunity to march in with regiments of compassion and to leave a signature devastation of brutal Kindness. Kindness is not 'nice'. Kindness is loving awe-ful.

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I wonder why we define boundaries The LOC's, The island, The territories Do we ever understand our existence? Do we ever question our existence? Intrigues my mind these thoughts ever Reasons my thoughts over and over Do we really think we are big? Do we really exist the way we think? Andromeda being our neighbor in many Thousands of these galaxies surround us Milky way is one such in plenty.. One dot is our planet Unique, beautiful, lively, colorful.. Colors are recent addition not too old though.. The time when existing boundaries were drawn Colors and flowers too were born.. Do we believe we created colors? Do we really believe we created boundaries?? We fight for territories We define continents We be so proud of countries Our existence, Our proud, Our nationality, our Identity, Do we feel we exist because of countries?? Do we really feel we are nothing beyond countries?? Religion, Ethnicity, Culture, Color, Do animals have it too?? Sentinelese, Jarawa, Onge tribes Living in archipelago of Andaman & Nicobar for 60,000 years, Who are these people living in tribes? Which religion do they belong? What language do they speak? How without fire do they survive? Do we still think we exist because of names given by us? Do we still doubt our Creator? To bound self in boundaries is sin Sin against the Creator Sin against the Soul Sin against the humanity Sin against belief of life.. To partition our nations is to belittle the Greatness of His Who created us, who created universe Who created "Himself" to keep our belief.. Continents, Rich, Poor, Oldest civilisation, Countries, Big, Small Are these parameters to be proud of? If we observe us from the top of universe We will be a fly or a microorganism They may name us Earthica humane Do we have to fight for land and land marks? Do we still have to divide the mother Earth? Is it not high time we rise and decide? United we make our Earth unique Souls wander the whole universe But to live they decend on Earth Can we not be proud of planet as a whole? No boundaries do us part Can we not end the hatred forever? Bringing peace, solace and love as treasure!!

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Sep 6, 2018

Sep 6, 2018 at 5:07 AM UTC

Praise the Creator!

I wonder why we define boundaries The LOC's, The island, The territories Do we ever understand our existence? Do we ever question our existence? Intrigues my mind these thoughts ever Reasons my thoughts over and over Do we really think we are big? Do we really exist the way we think? Andromeda being our neighbor in many Thousands of these galaxies surround us Milky way is one such in plenty.. One dot is our planet Unique, beautiful, lively, colorful.. Colors are recent addition not too old though.. The time when existing boundaries were drawn Colors and flowers too were born.. Do we believe we created colors? Do we really believe we created boundaries?? We fight for territories We define continents We be so proud of countries Our existence, Our proud, Our nationality, our Identity, Do we feel we exist because of countries?? Do we really feel we are nothing beyond countries?? Religion, Ethnicity, Culture, Color, Do animals have it too?? Sentinelese, Jarawa, Onge tribes Living in archipelago of Andaman & Nicobar for 60,000 years, Who are these people living in tribes? Which religion do they belong? What language do they speak? How without fire do they survive? Do we still think we exist because of names given by us? Do we still doubt our Creator? To bound self in boundaries is sin Sin against the Creator Sin against the Soul Sin against the humanity Sin against belief of life.. To partition our nations is to belittle the Greatness of His Who created us, who created universe Who created "Himself" to keep our belief.. Continents, Rich, Poor, Oldest civilisation, Countries, Big, Small Are these parameters to be proud of? If we observe us from the top of universe We will be a fly or a microorganism They may name us Earthica humane Do we have to fight for land and land marks? Do we still have to divide the mother Earth? Is it not high time we rise and decide? United we make our Earth unique Souls wander the whole universe But to live they decend on Earth Can we not be proud of planet as a whole? No boundaries do us part Can we not end the hatred forever? Bringing peace, solace and love as treasure!!

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Why attempt to claim the moral high ground When your pathetic argument holds no sway Why march to war with the rebel bound In the uncommon disposition of yesterday Why hold pretentious personality When acceptance is based on adaptation A pyramid scheme brings fatality To your pseudo-martyr nation Unwarranted non cooperation With the voices of the future Speak without brainwashed sedation And unravel your poisoned sutures Your self proclaimed image of authority Is unwanted within the confines of freedom You back a mentality of all encompassing conformities When the generation of today can't see them Your hubris lacks the willingness to act Yet you call yourself Ole-Times-Hardened And the simple depressing fact Is that your ignorance cannot be pardoned Leave while you hold a handful of passion Before it is lost in the folds of time Because dignity with age is not everlasting You are but another one track mind Whether or not you care to move forward The world turns on an invisible axis There is always a new world order And living life requires emotional taxes So be willing to express and voice opinions wholly But like many lost souls before you say Wander unknown territories carefully Because the past is lost with today

0

Jun 10, 2014

Jun 10, 2014 at 8:50 PM UTC

Genreration Insurrection

Why attempt to claim the moral high ground When your pathetic argument holds no sway Why march to war with the rebel bound In the uncommon disposition of yesterday Why hold pretentious personality When acceptance is based on adaptation A pyramid scheme brings fatality To your pseudo-martyr nation Unwarranted non cooperation With the voices of the future Speak without brainwashed sedation And unravel your poisoned sutures Your self proclaimed image of authority Is unwanted within the confines of freedom You back a mentality of all encompassing conformities When the generation of today can't see them Your hubris lacks the willingness to act Yet you call yourself Ole-Times-Hardened And the simple depressing fact Is that your ignorance cannot be pardoned Leave while you hold a handful of passion Before it is lost in the folds of time Because dignity with age is not everlasting You are but another one track mind Whether or not you care to move forward The world turns on an invisible axis There is always a new world order And living life requires emotional taxes So be willing to express and voice opinions wholly But like many lost souls before you say Wander unknown territories carefully Because the past is lost with today

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Lost in the wanderings Through the ancient paths Covered in anonymity Long before they saw light Many civilizations perished Unaware wanderings Lead the heart to unknown territories Lost in the midst of nowhere But have found an existence Uncanny feelings awaken A realization of the lost soul Finally, it has found Crowd of humanity could not spare From the least known places The soul has found a treasure trove Wandering through meanderings Directed the lost traveler To a place of wonder and clarity Herein lies the truth Immerse yourself in silence To celebrate the new realization

0

Feb 26, 2015

Feb 26, 2015 at 6:54 AM UTC

Lost in the wanderings Through the ancient paths Covered in anonymity Long before they saw light Many civilizations perished Unaware wanderings Lead the heart to unknown territories Lost in the midst of nowhere But have found an existence Uncanny feelings awaken A realization of the lost soul Finally, it has found Crowd of humanity could not spare From the least known places The soul has found a treasure trove Wandering through meanderings Directed the lost traveler To a place of wonder and clarity Herein lies the truth Immerse yourself in silence To celebrate the new realization

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I loathe fighting with my entire being. Maybe because I have never really been in a fight just observed my parents, my friends, everyone around me and watched as the tension built and built and built making me feel as small as a child and as powerless too. People don’t understand the consequences of their actions, I don’t understand people. But, I understand fights. Words are like slingshots catapulting friendships into dangerous territories the words you say sometimes you mean them, sometimes you don’t and it’s the words you mean that are the worst. Those are the words you can’t take back. And what I understand about fights taught me this. A fight is like a symphony it builds and builds until its deafeningly loud, and then its quiet, and there is nothing left leaving its audience unbearably sad and at a loss.

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Oct 6, 2014

Oct 6, 2014 at 1:18 AM UTC

stella-fitzgerald

But I Understand Fights

I loathe fighting with my entire being. Maybe because I have never really been in a fight just observed my parents, my friends, everyone around me and watched as the tension built and built and built making me feel as small as a child and as powerless too. People don’t understand the consequences of their actions, I don’t understand people. But, I understand fights. Words are like slingshots catapulting friendships into dangerous territories the words you say sometimes you mean them, sometimes you don’t and it’s the words you mean that are the worst. Those are the words you can’t take back. And what I understand about fights taught me this. A fight is like a symphony it builds and builds until its deafeningly loud, and then its quiet, and there is nothing left leaving its audience unbearably sad and at a loss.

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Not he/she/they but "the borderline" The borderline imagines this elaborate fantasy to be necessary the borderline turns to clinginess the borderline may exhibit narcissistic symptoms the borderline the borderline the borderline the borderline- a chalk marking on the sidewalk the borderline- trees separating territories the borderline- a sign stating do not cross not me I am human but since I'm a 'borderline' you wouldn't know that would you?

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Apr 28, 2015

Apr 28, 2015 at 2:26 AM UTC

"the borderline"

Not he/she/they but "the borderline" The borderline imagines this elaborate fantasy to be necessary the borderline turns to clinginess the borderline may exhibit narcissistic symptoms the borderline the borderline the borderline the borderline- a chalk marking on the sidewalk the borderline- trees separating territories the borderline- a sign stating do not cross not me I am human but since I'm a 'borderline' you wouldn't know that would you?

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Paramedic 1: "He's losing so much blood." Paramedic 2: "It's a miracle if he can make it past this." *Saturday night, and I'm in the back of an ambulance, But not in soul, just in body, oh and in the company of so many wires, I can't tell where they end and where I begin, But the paramedics say there was a tragic accident and some flying tires. We reach the ER, my stretcher is flying on the white tiles, And soon enough I'm greeted by more wires than I can count, They're saying that they want to hear my heart, So I'm opened up past layers of tissues and my heartbeat is playing aloud. I'm somewhere in a circus, learning how to walk on a tightrope, One arm on the verge of life, the other on the verge on death, And my feet are stronger than they've ever been, I'm not afraid of the fall, I'm afraid they'll see the mark I've had since birth. And they do, I see it in the face of those people wearing white scrubs, Their faces become the color of their operating room attire, They don't know what to do with me, As they come to realize what's got me here is not the flying tires. They see my heart, a land that is home to no one, Yet a massacre is taking place between the northerns and the southerns, A border holding together the mismatched territories, But there is no compromising between two armies this stubborn. Each side wanting to flood the other, wanting to conquer, And the small canal that was once an uncharted place of peace, Is now holding a rowing contest to the mind of the victim - me - Who will reach it first and incorporate their power with claws and teeth...? It was the time to surrender, ending all attempts at making amends, And watch cannibals sailing in rivers of blood, They think each accelerated beat is a new victory, Yet it was a far away cry from it, it was a new tear, a new cut. And when each side invades the other, they claim it as their own, But they are only emigrants thinking they can reconstruct a desert, It was only a land of chaos, they themselves have caused, Where was once life flowing in veins, is now where resources are tethered. And with no winner, the end approached, The curtains already sweeping the ground, Doctors wiping sweat from their foreheads, Letting the hospital gown cover the battleground.* Paramedic 2: "Maybe there's a wife we can call, to you know ... deliver the news..." Paramedic 1: "It appears, he just went out for a drive in the middle of the night, with no phone or ID... not even his driver's license..." Paramedic 2: "Maybe it wasn't even his car..." THE END

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May 22, 2016

May 22, 2016 at 11:27 AM UTC

Internal Bleeding

Paramedic 1: "He's losing so much blood." Paramedic 2: "It's a miracle if he can make it past this." *Saturday night, and I'm in the back of an ambulance, But not in soul, just in body, oh and in the company of so many wires, I can't tell where they end and where I begin, But the paramedics say there was a tragic accident and some flying tires. We reach the ER, my stretcher is flying on the white tiles, And soon enough I'm greeted by more wires than I can count, They're saying that they want to hear my heart, So I'm opened up past layers of tissues and my heartbeat is playing aloud. I'm somewhere in a circus, learning how to walk on a tightrope, One arm on the verge of life, the other on the verge on death, And my feet are stronger than they've ever been, I'm not afraid of the fall, I'm afraid they'll see the mark I've had since birth. And they do, I see it in the face of those people wearing white scrubs, Their faces become the color of their operating room attire, They don't know what to do with me, As they come to realize what's got me here is not the flying tires. They see my heart, a land that is home to no one, Yet a massacre is taking place between the northerns and the southerns, A border holding together the mismatched territories, But there is no compromising between two armies this stubborn. Each side wanting to flood the other, wanting to conquer, And the small canal that was once an uncharted place of peace, Is now holding a rowing contest to the mind of the victim - me - Who will reach it first and incorporate their power with claws and teeth...? It was the time to surrender, ending all attempts at making amends, And watch cannibals sailing in rivers of blood, They think each accelerated beat is a new victory, Yet it was a far away cry from it, it was a new tear, a new cut. And when each side invades the other, they claim it as their own, But they are only emigrants thinking they can reconstruct a desert, It was only a land of chaos, they themselves have caused, Where was once life flowing in veins, is now where resources are tethered. And with no winner, the end approached, The curtains already sweeping the ground, Doctors wiping sweat from their foreheads, Letting the hospital gown cover the battleground.* Paramedic 2: "Maybe there's a wife we can call, to you know ... deliver the news..." Paramedic 1: "It appears, he just went out for a drive in the middle of the night, with no phone or ID... not even his driver's license..." Paramedic 2: "Maybe it wasn't even his car..." THE END

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There is an equilibrium of rivers soaring into a distant spectrum far from earth's existence unfamiliar territories extending to the deepest depths bursting beginnings exhilarating endings a true presence unmasking various dreams deep within the core of the universe a wave of thoughts and feelings floating in the crimson sea in the moonlight of hollow chambers the shimmering sun shining down upon its glossy surface sinking in its shadowing frame how it's captivating phrasing is a passageway of escaping mazes a domain of unbreakable chains swelling into eternity curling in rising nouns and pronouns amplifying into massive metaphors a horizon of limitless languages shifting towards greater heights illuminating destiny in the palm of its hand each magnificent sight a seamless design of crowned creations every synchronized sound a desiring anticipation waiting to be unveiled to the masses

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Aug 2, 2018

Aug 2, 2018 at 12:16 PM UTC

Equilibrium of Rivers

There is an equilibrium of rivers soaring into a distant spectrum far from earth's existence unfamiliar territories extending to the deepest depths bursting beginnings exhilarating endings a true presence unmasking various dreams deep within the core of the universe a wave of thoughts and feelings floating in the crimson sea in the moonlight of hollow chambers the shimmering sun shining down upon its glossy surface sinking in its shadowing frame how it's captivating phrasing is a passageway of escaping mazes a domain of unbreakable chains swelling into eternity curling in rising nouns and pronouns amplifying into massive metaphors a horizon of limitless languages shifting towards greater heights illuminating destiny in the palm of its hand each magnificent sight a seamless design of crowned creations every synchronized sound a desiring anticipation waiting to be unveiled to the masses

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i am a poet and still i can’t comprehend these symbols these missing heartbeats and hours spent counting thimbles i am perplexed by love shall we seek herbs and remedies lose ourselves in cures and compounds must our inner territories be colonized while we remain captivated by inconvenient theories struck down by doubt and insecurity the mind wields no ammunition and yet its cavalry has desecrated the land without the slightest sign of inhibition or a trace of empathy, justice or compassion will we make a new peace treaty will the blessed earth be forgiven and can the sweet essence of her children comprehend the innocence of spring oh how our hearts yearn for dancing still you spend your dollars and your pennies but give your emptiness to the king i eat oats and honey cooked upon the fire while you distill golden nectar from the garden of desire in the ancient inside-out alembic of your will and imbibe spagyric liquid that eradicates all pride and confers wisdom, truth, beauty and longevity upon the already immortal nature of your mind

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Sep 5, 2018

Sep 5, 2018 at 5:04 PM UTC

ganesha-michael-shapiro

alchemy of desire

i am a poet and still i can’t comprehend these symbols these missing heartbeats and hours spent counting thimbles i am perplexed by love shall we seek herbs and remedies lose ourselves in cures and compounds must our inner territories be colonized while we remain captivated by inconvenient theories struck down by doubt and insecurity the mind wields no ammunition and yet its cavalry has desecrated the land without the slightest sign of inhibition or a trace of empathy, justice or compassion will we make a new peace treaty will the blessed earth be forgiven and can the sweet essence of her children comprehend the innocence of spring oh how our hearts yearn for dancing still you spend your dollars and your pennies but give your emptiness to the king i eat oats and honey cooked upon the fire while you distill golden nectar from the garden of desire in the ancient inside-out alembic of your will and imbibe spagyric liquid that eradicates all pride and confers wisdom, truth, beauty and longevity upon the already immortal nature of your mind

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This silence is of the other sort. Not that silence of stillness born; That meditative calm that washes you when morning's light shyly peeks through your curtains. No, this is the malignant sort, an out of control cellular growth, (A Growth!) that pushes out other thought and claims the territories of your mind all for himself. for himself. This silence screams at you, "Listen to me!", "Listen, now, lover! And you can't do anything but hear his absent, his vacant, that vacant, that Voice! This is the silence that shoves his way into your brain and demands attention. He stamps his foot and shouts "Look at me!" Are you looking? And all you can do is stare at his invisible, His implacable Face. You wonder, "Who are you, to invade "my sanctuary?!" But then it comes to you, in that moment of Reckoning: You left your key laying casually on the window sill outside your door, red ribbon tied on, an exclamation point, That mocking point! No, you can't blame this silence. You are the one who left the light burning brightly, in your window, that small, indescript window, all night long. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SE_l1hLps1g&feature;=shareice.**

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Jan 14, 2014

Jan 14, 2014 at 10:09 PM UTC

you can't blame this silence

This silence is of the other sort. Not that silence of stillness born; That meditative calm that washes you when morning's light shyly peeks through your curtains. No, this is the malignant sort, an out of control cellular growth, (A Growth!) that pushes out other thought and claims the territories of your mind all for himself. for himself. This silence screams at you, "Listen to me!", "Listen, now, lover! And you can't do anything but hear his absent, his vacant, that vacant, that Voice! This is the silence that shoves his way into your brain and demands attention. He stamps his foot and shouts "Look at me!" Are you looking? And all you can do is stare at his invisible, His implacable Face. You wonder, "Who are you, to invade "my sanctuary?!" But then it comes to you, in that moment of Reckoning: You left your key laying casually on the window sill outside your door, red ribbon tied on, an exclamation point, That mocking point! No, you can't blame this silence. You are the one who left the light burning brightly, in your window, that small, indescript window, all night long. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SE_l1hLps1g&feature;=shareice.**

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Roughly biting down Iron tongue Lungs constricted Refusing to let A breath escape My pleas, silenced There's no one to save me Held down Marking me up Outlining territories Red lines on brown sugar skin Know it's wrong But I play along Convinced Or deceived By the word love Eyes welded shut Praying to fade into Just a shadow Splayed flat against the wall You keep on taking Though, there is nothing left I'm certain I should Stay completely still As your arms Steal bars Close around me

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Apr 16, 2014

Apr 16, 2014 at 2:32 PM UTC

grace-nicole-espinoza

Roughly biting down Iron tongue Lungs constricted Refusing to let A breath escape My pleas, silenced There's no one to save me Held down Marking me up Outlining territories Red lines on brown sugar skin Know it's wrong But I play along Convinced Or deceived By the word love Eyes welded shut Praying to fade into Just a shadow Splayed flat against the wall You keep on taking Though, there is nothing left I'm certain I should Stay completely still As your arms Steal bars Close around me

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His light house amidst his mystic fog, signals belated in triumphant decore, Enamoured with ancient joy of his blue green dreams I chant. “His rod and his staff comfort me and all surrounding gore departs. I breathe in gasping about my true love. as he spots my battered vessel into the wind sailing. Ecstasy twinkles his teary eye in the magic water dancing glare, of our mystical full moon light. For too long I've traveled jeweled triumphant yet unable to reach his promised treasure vaults. To the greed of legions on treacherous paths all alone I wept, through enemy's territories, but all those from me have fled. I roamed alone yester woods I reach his safe private harbour his peaceful shores. As trustworthy jeweled queen regardless of grave loss. Willfully he reveals his home key to come open up his door as photographic memories on new calming waters get anchored deep. At last I shall rest in love on my bittersweet bed of roses red, and flowers wild; white sad lilies on hand, saluting my beloved glories recaptured and retained. Enduring rhythmic ways with courage, heart brain and hope and off my survival modes into éasier dwelling into my grave but neither there I shall trod alone no more. ~~~~~~ By Karijinbba All rights.

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Mar 29, 2022

Mar 29, 2022 at 7:53 PM UTC

His light-house promise.

His light house amidst his mystic fog, signals belated in triumphant decore, Enamoured with ancient joy of his blue green dreams I chant. “His rod and his staff comfort me and all surrounding gore departs. I breathe in gasping about my true love. as he spots my battered vessel into the wind sailing. Ecstasy twinkles his teary eye in the magic water dancing glare, of our mystical full moon light. For too long I've traveled jeweled triumphant yet unable to reach his promised treasure vaults. To the greed of legions on treacherous paths all alone I wept, through enemy's territories, but all those from me have fled. I roamed alone yester woods I reach his safe private harbour his peaceful shores. As trustworthy jeweled queen regardless of grave loss. Willfully he reveals his home key to come open up his door as photographic memories on new calming waters get anchored deep. At last I shall rest in love on my bittersweet bed of roses red, and flowers wild; white sad lilies on hand, saluting my beloved glories recaptured and retained. Enduring rhythmic ways with courage, heart brain and hope and off my survival modes into éasier dwelling into my grave but neither there I shall trod alone no more. ~~~~~~ By Karijinbba All rights.

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* Peace is not a silent word; nor a bird; nor a sword; It is God ! Peace is a river of lights, which flows like my lyrics, crossing the small hills and big valleys, little ponds and deep oceans, vast territories and large boundaries; covering thousands of men and women who speaks In the name of God............ *. "Maa Salamaa*.." with peace........... * A WORD IN ARABIC LANGUAGE which means "with peace..." From the author's collection of lyrics titled as "MAA SALAMA...." written by Williamsji Maveli

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Jan 13, 2013

Jan 13, 2013 at 2:43 AM UTC

williamsji-maveli

Maa Salama *... (means "With Peace...")

* Peace is not a silent word; nor a bird; nor a sword; It is God ! Peace is a river of lights, which flows like my lyrics, crossing the small hills and big valleys, little ponds and deep oceans, vast territories and large boundaries; covering thousands of men and women who speaks In the name of God............ *. "Maa Salamaa*.." with peace........... * A WORD IN ARABIC LANGUAGE which means "with peace..." From the author's collection of lyrics titled as "MAA SALAMA...." written by Williamsji Maveli

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Shoutout to the unsung heroes! Whose noble swords still rise higher and higher In this world where broken shields are dire We disregard our weapons of steel. Oh, And bards who sing of loot and money Gems, precious stones, and gold a-plenty Perhaps if I sing of these unheard vigilantes The world would be so very jaunty! Fame, loot, tales and territories; Unsung heroes have never earned any of these Despite all efforts to bring about justice, Despite dispelling all forms of avarice… Alas, no recognition to lay up front! No form of appreciation, only gaunt… Gaunt expressions, an unwelcome chanting of desolation That's what an unsung hero faces - tribulations. But look at the bright side! The future isn't dark, nor no grim eventide I will sing of these unsung heroes In short, sweet verses as mementos For that fleeting moment in time When they took up the courage to halt crime. So again, I'm calling out to all the unsung heroes! Who rose from the bottom the others called zero.

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May 22, 2017

May 22, 2017 at 11:48 AM UTC

Shoutout to the unsung heroes! Whose noble swords still rise higher and higher In this world where broken shields are dire We disregard our weapons of steel. Oh, And bards who sing of loot and money Gems, precious stones, and gold a-plenty Perhaps if I sing of these unheard vigilantes The world would be so very jaunty! Fame, loot, tales and territories; Unsung heroes have never earned any of these Despite all efforts to bring about justice, Despite dispelling all forms of avarice… Alas, no recognition to lay up front! No form of appreciation, only gaunt… Gaunt expressions, an unwelcome chanting of desolation That's what an unsung hero faces - tribulations. But look at the bright side! The future isn't dark, nor no grim eventide I will sing of these unsung heroes In short, sweet verses as mementos For that fleeting moment in time When they took up the courage to halt crime. So again, I'm calling out to all the unsung heroes! Who rose from the bottom the others called zero.

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73 Who never lost, are unprepared A Coronet to find! Who never thirsted Flagons, and Cooling Tamarind! Who never climbed the weary league— Can such a foot explore The purple territories On Pizarro’s shore? How many Legions overcome— The Emperor will say? How many Colors taken On Revolution Day? How many Bullets bearest? Hast Thou the Royal scar? Angels! Write “Promoted” On this Soldier’s brow!

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2k

Emily Dickinson

Who never lost, are unprepared

73 Who never lost, are unprepared A Coronet to find! Who never thirsted Flagons, and Cooling Tamarind! Who never climbed the weary league— Can such a foot explore The purple territories On Pizarro’s shore? How many Legions overcome— The Emperor will say? How many Colors taken On Revolution Day? How many Bullets bearest? Hast Thou the Royal scar? Angels! Write “Promoted” On this Soldier’s brow!

Continue reading...