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"tireless" poems
It was the time of my Auntie Bee summers    I was small then    She had a parakeet that landed on my head    and a bathtub too    with water so deep!    and legs and claws!    **** thing nearly chased me down the stairs! She lived in slumbery Windsor Locks    where bugs hung-out in the haze    of teenage August    I played in the tall weeds    with a shoeless Italian boy    who ate tomatoes like apples    and cucumbers right off the vine!    He was ***** free and foreign!    We played— reckless, abandoned    behind the gas pump, under the tractor, in the barn       and through the endless fields    I didn’t know....    His name was Tony    I ate pizza with him—the first time At Auntie Bee’s I had to go to bed at eight    but I could watch night flowers    bloom on wallpaper    She came in to say good night    slippered, shadowy, night dress slightly open    and I peeped her *******    like Tony’s cucumbers!    I had never seen my mother’s wonders.... Night spread its wings from the old fan—    a bird of tireless exhaustion    whipped, whipped, whipped to death in its cage    tireless exhaustion    tic-tocking in time to a wind-up clock    stretched out on the whine    of the overland trucks    Route Five through the night of an open window In the grape arbor below— tremulous incessant    crickets    crickets    crickets tremulous incessant—insides of a child    a summer child    not yet ready for the fall of answers Auntie Bee had a daughter—Maureen    I followed her everywhere I could    I was small then--        do anything for a stick of Juicy Fruit I followed Maureen through my dreams    of being sixteen    and woke to Peggy’s “Fever”    while she tied her sneakers    against the mattress by my head I followed Maureen (in my mind)    tanned and bandanned    to work in the fields of shade tobacco    with all those Puerto Rican boys!    She knew where she was going! I was small then ...do anything for a stick of  gum “Mauney! Mauney! Mauney!”    ...through the goldenrod of roadside    through the smell of oil that damped the dust     I followed Maureen’s white shorts    and chestnut hair...to the corner store I followed the way the boys smiled    the way the screen door slammed    on her bright behind    the way her lips taunted and took    the coke-bottle’s green I followed Maureen I swear, I tried for hours to get that right! Must have been Peggy Lee’s “Fever” Maureen ties her sneakers in my face Flaunts her years above my head She has that look— “We kids don’t know nothin” (Little turds” that we be) …followin’ Maureen through the goldenrod of roadside tic-tockin’, beboppin’ “Fever— in the morning Fever all through the night….”
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Aug 24, 2016
Aug 24, 2016 at 11:30 PM UTC
I Follow Maureen
It was the time of my Auntie Bee summers    I was small then    She had a parakeet that landed on my head    and a bathtub too    with water so deep!    and legs and claws!    **** thing nearly chased me down the stairs! She lived in slumbery Windsor Locks    where bugs hung-out in the haze    of teenage August    I played in the tall weeds    with a shoeless Italian boy    who ate tomatoes like apples    and cucumbers right off the vine!    He was ***** free and foreign!    We played— reckless, abandoned    behind the gas pump, under the tractor, in the barn       and through the endless fields    I didn’t know....    His name was Tony    I ate pizza with him—the first time At Auntie Bee’s I had to go to bed at eight    but I could watch night flowers    bloom on wallpaper    She came in to say good night    slippered, shadowy, night dress slightly open    and I peeped her *******    like Tony’s cucumbers!    I had never seen my mother’s wonders.... Night spread its wings from the old fan—    a bird of tireless exhaustion    whipped, whipped, whipped to death in its cage    tireless exhaustion    tic-tocking in time to a wind-up clock    stretched out on the whine    of the overland trucks    Route Five through the night of an open window In the grape arbor below— tremulous incessant    crickets    crickets    crickets tremulous incessant—insides of a child    a summer child    not yet ready for the fall of answers Auntie Bee had a daughter—Maureen    I followed her everywhere I could    I was small then--        do anything for a stick of Juicy Fruit I followed Maureen through my dreams    of being sixteen    and woke to Peggy’s “Fever”    while she tied her sneakers    against the mattress by my head I followed Maureen (in my mind)    tanned and bandanned    to work in the fields of shade tobacco    with all those Puerto Rican boys!    She knew where she was going! I was small then ...do anything for a stick of  gum “Mauney! Mauney! Mauney!”    ...through the goldenrod of roadside    through the smell of oil that damped the dust     I followed Maureen’s white shorts    and chestnut hair...to the corner store I followed the way the boys smiled    the way the screen door slammed    on her bright behind    the way her lips taunted and took    the coke-bottle’s green I followed Maureen I swear, I tried for hours to get that right! Must have been Peggy Lee’s “Fever” Maureen ties her sneakers in my face Flaunts her years above my head She has that look— “We kids don’t know nothin” (Little turds” that we be) …followin’ Maureen through the goldenrod of roadside tic-tockin’, beboppin’ “Fever— in the morning Fever all through the night….”
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82
Step into the sunshine my friend, let it kiss your face and refine your spirit into a golden bar. Step into the sunshine my friend, come out of the shadows of your past, emerge as a saintly being clothed in angelic white. Step into the sunshine my friend; let the great sun inflame your soul with magnificent grace and transformative power. Step into the sunshine my friend, wipe the darkness from your eyes see what miracles the new day brings. Believe in all the light you see. Step into the sunshine my friend, let radiant beams of love ignite your passions; your heart will bust forth like an exploding star washing the galaxy with positive energy. Step into the sunshine my friend, receive the fantastic glories the day brings to you and revel in them all. Step into the sunshine my friend; bathe yourself in the warm river of humanity. Recognize yourself for the first time in its watery mirror. Step into the sunshine my friend, witness the delicate flower break through the hard crust of earth, marvel as its fragrant bud blooms. Step into the sunshine my friend, experience the wonder in a child’s face, let them lead you to the next 10,000 sunrises. Step into the sunshine my friend, feel the soft rays touch your wounds; know how the daylight can heal. Step into the sunshine my friend, smell the ocean heave against the climbing sun listen to the wisps of the meadowland's verdant fragrance. Step into the sunshine my friend; see the sparrow take flight toward the light, watch its tireless wings glide on a blanket of rising thermal air. Step into the sunshine my friend. Music Selection: Ramsey Lewis Sun Goddess Oakland 122698 jbm
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Mar 17, 2013
Mar 17, 2013 at 9:31 AM UTC
Step Into the Sunshine
Step into the sunshine my friend, let it kiss your face and refine your spirit into a golden bar. Step into the sunshine my friend, come out of the shadows of your past, emerge as a saintly being clothed in angelic white. Step into the sunshine my friend; let the great sun inflame your soul with magnificent grace and transformative power. Step into the sunshine my friend, wipe the darkness from your eyes see what miracles the new day brings. Believe in all the light you see. Step into the sunshine my friend, let radiant beams of love ignite your passions; your heart will bust forth like an exploding star washing the galaxy with positive energy. Step into the sunshine my friend, receive the fantastic glories the day brings to you and revel in them all. Step into the sunshine my friend; bathe yourself in the warm river of humanity. Recognize yourself for the first time in its watery mirror. Step into the sunshine my friend, witness the delicate flower break through the hard crust of earth, marvel as its fragrant bud blooms. Step into the sunshine my friend, experience the wonder in a child’s face, let them lead you to the next 10,000 sunrises. Step into the sunshine my friend, feel the soft rays touch your wounds; know how the daylight can heal. Step into the sunshine my friend, smell the ocean heave against the climbing sun listen to the wisps of the meadowland's verdant fragrance. Step into the sunshine my friend; see the sparrow take flight toward the light, watch its tireless wings glide on a blanket of rising thermal air. Step into the sunshine my friend. Music Selection: Ramsey Lewis Sun Goddess Oakland 122698 jbm
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43
Light train chugging, working to outrun Over exerting, pulling along your freight Sand is running out under the diminishing sun Fastidiously you tug on your enormous weight Segmented equal in seven hulking proportions Weaving between sleeping rocky giants Assertion in your drive gifted from the high heavens Borne of light your cargo load of tenants Silver blurred rays glinting back as reply As you power your way through Defying seconds, before the last rays should die Against odds, delivering what is due Questing to alleviate my inflicted darkness Spear of brilliance slicing through my mind Illuminating the farthest and tiniest of crevices Nook and crannies that willed me blind Careful manoeuvring to keep your balance Through scenic views fraught with treachery Furiously working to keep your cadence Hopeful of unloading the load you carry What lies dormant in that cargo of yours? What sleeps easy within those boxcars? What stokes the fire to diligently run your course? What promises you bear, travelling near and far? Bales of hope and crates of strength Supplies of kindness and self-worth Reside within your immense length Intact and lay quiet within your formidable girth Reliant on the light that fuels and feeds Your axles seem tireless guiding forth those wheels Thundering over land with the power of a thousand steeds Armed to your teeth with alloys and steels Expelling grit and dirt as you pummelled across Grey-white fumes, shoot up to the sky Flag flogged by wind, billow and toss Blaring your whistle as you race on by Propelling forward, horizon up ahead There it is...in all its tenebrous glory Darkened locomotive seething mad with dread Brace for the clash and the loads the two carry
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Sep 28, 2014
Sep 28, 2014 at 8:03 AM UTC
Light Train (II)
Light train chugging, working to outrun Over exerting, pulling along your freight Sand is running out under the diminishing sun Fastidiously you tug on your enormous weight Segmented equal in seven hulking proportions Weaving between sleeping rocky giants Assertion in your drive gifted from the high heavens Borne of light your cargo load of tenants Silver blurred rays glinting back as reply As you power your way through Defying seconds, before the last rays should die Against odds, delivering what is due Questing to alleviate my inflicted darkness Spear of brilliance slicing through my mind Illuminating the farthest and tiniest of crevices Nook and crannies that willed me blind Careful manoeuvring to keep your balance Through scenic views fraught with treachery Furiously working to keep your cadence Hopeful of unloading the load you carry What lies dormant in that cargo of yours? What sleeps easy within those boxcars? What stokes the fire to diligently run your course? What promises you bear, travelling near and far? Bales of hope and crates of strength Supplies of kindness and self-worth Reside within your immense length Intact and lay quiet within your formidable girth Reliant on the light that fuels and feeds Your axles seem tireless guiding forth those wheels Thundering over land with the power of a thousand steeds Armed to your teeth with alloys and steels Expelling grit and dirt as you pummelled across Grey-white fumes, shoot up to the sky Flag flogged by wind, billow and toss Blaring your whistle as you race on by Propelling forward, horizon up ahead There it is...in all its tenebrous glory Darkened locomotive seething mad with dread Brace for the clash and the loads the two carry
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40
She pulled up her shawl and left the house Gone to get more tea And all the people passing by And all the noises eating at her ear Could not grasp her attention Attending only to herself Brilliant and Boisterous her thoughts A majestic melody of their own So how could she not be secure? In her soul’s symphony The strings vibrated her vessel The horns heckled her heart The drums beat down her darkness And wisdom conducted alongside grace Matching one another’s pace Astute in one another’s ache At conducting timelessly, never being late It was almost as if their union was fate Almost being key for it surely did take Tireless effort, and sacrifices to make The two into each other’s esteemed mate
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Aug 25, 2018
Aug 25, 2018 at 9:46 AM UTC
Meditation On Being # 2
wondrous words, shades of colorations, this pain, artfully slow, steady stalking, finale staking into my hardened heart with tireless twinges of loss and constant regret, painstakingly plinking away, leaving pockmarks of bullets shot at the concrete ring-fencing, failing to protect me from just another, **oh god not again, have no mo' time** for jes one mo' time love's aftermath regret, bitter acid wash, that cleanses nothing, for you are already nothing when love loss wrenches/rents your soul's garments with knotholes of unfashionable distressed distress **better not to have loved, better, better, better,** than this battering silent hurricane invisible thunderstorm internally, than respects no seasonality, for which the meteorologists can predict neither its path or its final cessation painstakingly, did I build my walled shelter, only to fail-fall to the siege machines of beauty and desire, and once conquered, with fire and heat, *they burnt me from the outward edges inward, and I am not a Phoenix* see the stooped slow white walker more than dead, yet alive enough existing to be witness to his own devouring, his hands wrapped round the stake in his chest stuck, painstakingly protecting it, lest its removal be one more undoing of the painstaking man
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May 31, 2016
May 31, 2016 at 7:00 PM UTC
the painstaking man
XXXI. TO HELIOS (20 lines) (ll. 1-16) (34) And now, O Muse Calliope, daughter of Zeus, begin to sing of glowing Helios whom mild-eyed Euryphaessa, the far- shining one, bare to the Son of Earth and starry Heaven. For Hyperion wedded glorious Euryphaessa, his own sister, who bare him lovely children, rosy-armed Eos and rich-tressed Selene and tireless Helios who is like the deathless gods. As he rides in his chariot, he shines upon men and deathless gods, and piercingly he gazes with his eyes from his golden helmet. Bright rays beam dazzlingly from him, and his bright locks streaming form the temples of his head gracefully enclose his far-seen face: a rich, fine-spun garment glows upon his body and flutters in the wind: and stallions carry him. Then, when he has stayed his golden-yoked chariot and horses, he rests there upon the highest point of heaven, until he marvellously drives them down again through heaven to Ocean. (ll. 17-19) Hail to you, lord! Freely bestow on me substance that cheers the heart. And now that I have begun with you, I will celebrate the race of mortal men half-divine whose deeds the Muses have showed to mankind.
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The Homeric Hymns: 31- To Helios
Once I read this quote about how quiet people have the loudest minds. Now, and only now do I know what was meant by this. I sit there while you talk. Just sit and listen. A little nod, a silent sound of consent. That's all you'll see from me. Because I'm not a talker. I'm the one who listens. Attentively. Tireless. An open ear for everyone's problems musings, thoughts. And I don't complain or give advice I don't argue or deny I will just sit there subtly smiling, gathering my thoughts inside my mind And you are grateful for that someone who listens and cares without judging But ask me once on my view, my experience I will start slowly, trying to hold back on all the things unsaid. tiptoeing around so as not to drown you And finally it will overthrow my discipline and words, letters, stories start flowing out my mouth passing the barriers that have so long retained them. And I'm afraid it might easily crush you because there's so much within me that wants to be said and so very few people ever taken the time to listen.
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Oct 15, 2012
Oct 15, 2012 at 4:26 PM UTC
Listen
/ Many days I do not read any newspaper Even do not see television At all Many days have gone After You I do not read any poetry How to feel that since this morning! Repeatedly hear identifying tunes on the air Your arrival in the sky, The air reverberates Looks like another day In the Paradise, In another song, Which brings the soul The Aroma Everyone is coming out From all sides Young Old Babies Boys Women Men Everyone Everyone is clapping Singing the song of the same tune This song is not the song of Rain Not even a lamentation The Southern breeze whispering your words Slowly Said, The Little Tailor Bird No, No, Not such a summer afternoon Not even a hurricane warning Each of the human eye Follow the Eastern Sky   Tireless Eye Watching the sun, The Red Sun, You went to bring dreams for us From the Sun Hundreds of thousands of people In his next question Hand with Flower Shoulder to Shoulder Today will be the day of strangers, The poet will come We are standing in the flowers Fist full of dreams to take Float in the sky with white clouds My dreams are calling again Today is not such an Autumn But Still feel like an Autumn Indeed,   The poet will come, A poem in the New Where each word will be spoken dream Love to be evacuated Poems that will repay The debt to my Ancestor Take revenge on thee For their injustice, Torture Poems that would bring the stars For our next generation A poem that would bring the red rose for my darling, Would bring such a smile to my mother's face As Moon that smile And that is simply killed false dreams Will we ever Released Sing Freedom Songs The Poet, My beloved Poet You will come, Will surely come And will recite your immortal poem / @ Musfiq us shaleheen
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Jan 23, 2015
Jan 23, 2015 at 11:11 AM UTC
The Poet Comes and Recites an Immortal Poem
/ Many days I do not read any newspaper Even do not see television At all Many days have gone After You I do not read any poetry How to feel that since this morning! Repeatedly hear identifying tunes on the air Your arrival in the sky, The air reverberates Looks like another day In the Paradise, In another song, Which brings the soul The Aroma Everyone is coming out From all sides Young Old Babies Boys Women Men Everyone Everyone is clapping Singing the song of the same tune This song is not the song of Rain Not even a lamentation The Southern breeze whispering your words Slowly Said, The Little Tailor Bird No, No, Not such a summer afternoon Not even a hurricane warning Each of the human eye Follow the Eastern Sky   Tireless Eye Watching the sun, The Red Sun, You went to bring dreams for us From the Sun Hundreds of thousands of people In his next question Hand with Flower Shoulder to Shoulder Today will be the day of strangers, The poet will come We are standing in the flowers Fist full of dreams to take Float in the sky with white clouds My dreams are calling again Today is not such an Autumn But Still feel like an Autumn Indeed,   The poet will come, A poem in the New Where each word will be spoken dream Love to be evacuated Poems that will repay The debt to my Ancestor Take revenge on thee For their injustice, Torture Poems that would bring the stars For our next generation A poem that would bring the red rose for my darling, Would bring such a smile to my mother's face As Moon that smile And that is simply killed false dreams Will we ever Released Sing Freedom Songs The Poet, My beloved Poet You will come, Will surely come And will recite your immortal poem / @ Musfiq us shaleheen
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77
stop be still and listen hear ye not that soulful song of endless motion that tireless voice of storm wracked potion her swollen bosoms' rising, falling her shameless cresting foam flecked devotion pouring out her effervescence on lips that drink her adoration yet never taste her vital essence her drumming chorus a roaring thunder on rocky clefts torn asunder as mourning rays of misty raining her teardrops falling gently tracing our loves our sorrows engraved each day on these mortal paintings on granite shoulders her message beats that pounding drum of thunderous need as she flings her ageless storm tossed beauty onto granite arms etched and fluted from hollowed cheeks her kisses pouring as sea birds cry on stiff winds soaring and ever on throughout the ages enduring her ravenous inclinations never wincing from her brazen charms her surging seduction's voiceless call immersed within her warm caresses glistening in her wind tossed tresses enfolding him in her flowing graces in dulcet tones of annihilation . . http://oi62.tinypic.com/vuya0.jpg .
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Feb 9, 2018
Feb 9, 2018 at 7:02 PM UTC
Dulcet Tones of Annihilation
A dozen fellows draped in threadbare tread densely, Profligating goons in obsidian gowns gathered under rainbow moonshine shaking bronze hands, howling and ******   in the shambles of the moon,   rap'n and nod'n to the notes of midnight. The mellow marines mourned over malice, lionizing over lost ones, many howled venerated, exalted in wonder in  favor of their thrilling grace, and delight, and brilliance, and might! but some neighboring sticklers,     behaved haughty and in disdain,   of the crowdy Cavaliers bellowing echoes signaling out                  to the seers of the sea, singing to the wands overwatching the wedding, and ravens listened,    roving like noble patrolsmen. Traveleres and trainees at sea    humble and bright niave, and frieghtened in traverse,            volatile and toiling,            tireless, Lunatics, (laughing, laughing, laughhing,) Rumaging through rain, fireciely, rallying and rableroused, through towering halls of mohogony,      hefty and wholesome were their hearts though, beast of the woodsy edifice were foul and benumb scowling with contempt, haste to devide and devised to hindrance. Hence the heroes heed    to the valleys of rose, and violet, and strawberry fields of forever,  seeking Saint Nicholas, in the bustling Byzantium,       in the murky shadows of doubt.
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Sep 18, 2018
Sep 18, 2018 at 10:08 AM UTC
A Dozen Cavaliers At Sea
what if you took a step back, saw your life as the work of art it is, made beautiful by tireless perfectionism and ultimate lack of control, treasured creations and unseen shadows, internal battles and conflicting thoughts, all together striking balance, contrast, a wilderness of human intricacy?
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May 29, 2019
May 29, 2019 at 12:38 AM UTC
striking
sun, light, murmurs through slatted edifices onto restless 4s they shuffle tireless ssssn uf fle those 4s ever do on strawlittered floors t rapp -ed in woodly cages a 2 enters pets 4 1 whispers to 4 2 soothes their aches 2 astride 4 1 clumsy gallop through golden portals into ****** time
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Apr 17, 2010
Apr 17, 2010 at 5:48 PM UTC
legs
¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ perched atop a muddy graze amongst the reefing centipede does lady jade a’ponder days from whence the eldest had decreed. *"what's this a'fuss upon the breeze that sings a song of fallen trees?" **a burnin' Birgham urn, aburn! a'crack—a'whack—a'wish..*** was broadening—a shiver, swift— bespoken of her crown to rest? what way whereby these spirits lift that hide should (of the head) contest? *"what, unbeknownst, should overwhelm this silv'ry shoat, what's felling elm?" **a burnin' Birgham urn, aburn! a'crack—a'whack—a'wish..*** amidst a cruel cacophony, the lady seed, she must concede the razing of her progeny beholden to appease a need. *"what's this in want of dire good that preys upon upholding wood?"           **a burnin' Birgham urn, aburn!                     a'crack—a'whack—a'wish..*** on arbor brawn does ardor dine does earthen daughter march to meet as tireless as the vile design divesting mother's gen'rous teat. *"what subtleties uproot the heart as bodies from their souls depart?"           **a burnin' Birgham urn, aburn!                      a'crack—a'whack—a'wish..***
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Aug 27, 2015
Aug 27, 2015 at 8:19 AM UTC
Fauna's Mourning
I dwell in a lonely house I know That vanished many a summer ago, And left no trace but the cellar walls, And a cellar in which the daylight falls, And the purple-stemmed wild raspberries grow. O’er ruined fences the grape-vines shield The woods come back to the mowing field; The orchard tree has grown one copse Of new wood and old where the woodpecker chops; The footpath down to the well is healed. I dwell with a strangely aching heart In that vanished abode there far apart On that disused and forgotten road That has no dust-bath now for the toad. Night comes; the black bats tumble and dart; The whippoorwill is coming to shout And hush and cluck and flutter about: I hear him begin far enough away Full many a time to say his say Before he arrives to say it out. It is under the small, dim, summer star. I know not who these mute folk are Who share the unlit place with me— Those stones out under the low-limbed tree Doubtless bear names that the mosses mar. They are tireless folk, but slow and sad, Though two, close-keeping, are lass and lad,— With none among them that ever sings, And yet, in view of how many things, As sweet companions as might be had.
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3.3k
Ghost House
My worst enemy and tireless companion finally came to my door last night. As I slept away the time of day And killed my poor friend Time He traveled closer to my home. As I slowly cowered in the face of fear And realized my mistake too late As I chose to make a silly choice He quietly opened the door. Shame came in but didn't stop And with every tear that welled up inside He crawled in hot into my cheeks. As the salty drops burned away my skin He then moved on down to my throat And choked me up till air was gone. I gagged and shook, begging him to go Openly admitting my sin But Shame knew he could do more And as I watched my world crumble He eagerly attacked my heart. As he dripped down to the hearth He triumphed with his final mutation. The pain of Shame is nothing Next to that of his brother Humiliation. There, in the privacy of my soul He slaughtered my Pride with a blunted blade As Sloth cowered in the corner. When the room was red he finally paused With a smile on his face at the lesson he left. As he exited Responsibility came in instead And from the door watched with sad eyes Waiting for me to rise and finally apologise.
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Sep 24, 2014
Sep 24, 2014 at 12:34 PM UTC
Shame
I see them in the evening echolocate after gnats as they dart and dive for micro-prey our night sky is alive with bats. They clear away mosquitoes never seeming to alight and make it safer here below these tireless workers of the night I am fearful for their future as we use our toxic sprays for as we spray mosquitoes we poison those who call them prey Still the acrobatics thrill me in their nightly hunt for gnats and I hope for many years to come our nights will be alive with bats Cori MacNaughton (July/Aug?) 1999
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Jun 17, 2015
Jun 17, 2015 at 1:37 AM UTC
I see them in the evening
Here neatly side by side these rotted steels Cancerous rust peeled off paints lay idle Progress put halt these **** grown wheels The sad pale ghosts of once was tireless angels In unknown graveyard of ambulances There's silence. But whistling birds in a tree Not like sirens blared heard far distances Cut through traffic like ships divide the sea Wings on fire ferrying perilous load Sick and dying dire need to hospital Mother's in labour mishap on the road Saviour of lives young, old and critical Where mankind employs, mankind destroys Hollowed vans left to whims like broken toys.
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Apr 13, 2018
Apr 13, 2018 at 9:01 PM UTC
Sonnet; Graveyard Of Ambulances
Every year without knowing it I have passed the day When the last fires will wave to me And the silence will set out Tireless traveler Like the beam of a lightless star Then I will no longer Find myself in life as in a strange garment Surprised at the earth And the love of one woman And the shamelessness of men As today writing after three days of rain Hearing the wren sing. and the falling cease And bowing not knowing to what
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2.8k
For the Anniversary of My Death
In a revered Tibetan tradition, I read aloud to my father, the dead are borne to mountains and the bodies offered to vultures. I show him the photographs of a monk raising an ax, a corpse chopped into pieces, a skull crushed with a large rock. As one we contemplate the birds, the charnel ground, the bone dust thick as smoke flying in the wind. Our dark meditation comforts us. I ask if he’d like me to carry him— like a bundle of sticks on my back— up a mountain road to a high meadow and feed him to the tireless vultures. "Yes," he says, raising a crooked finger, "and remember to wield the ax with love."
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2.8k
Sky Funeral?
She is the sweetest The loveliest The warmest The kindest Person I'll ever know Who never wavered In the weirdest In the craziest In the wildest Moods and rotten days Who holds my hand In the the darkest In the scariest In the toughest Times I've ever faced. She dives the deepest She goes the furthest She fights the fiercest Holds out the longest For her prince and princesses. That's why she is The angriest And the maddest And the saddest When I keep settling For less than best. She cheers me on With a smile that is the brightest With a love so selfless With support so endless That never changes In every rise and every fall When everything is hopeless Her faith is the biggest Still so fearless Points to the Greatest Who is the Reason for it all She cries the hardest She hurts the deepest She's the most imperfect The most human person I know Still I'm using all the superlatives Because she deserves the best She's my mom And I love her so. After all the years of service Your mom deserves a rest It's her turn to be the princess And remind her that she's The sweetest The kindest The loveliest The warmest The noblest And that in all these years so tireless Countless lives were touched and blessed.
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Aug 17, 2015
Aug 17, 2015 at 3:54 PM UTC
Superlatives
Somewhere someone is going Without anyone even knowing Across massive rivers of blood In the young revolution flood While the mothers in black hide Their tears which now have dried Out of bloodshot sleepless eyes Across vast open miles and miles Mothers with their sons throwing Themselves into the river flowing And with tireless soldiers of God All for the long forgotten cause The blasted and wounded call They cry for battle but never fall What is war for widows and mothers What is freedom for young lovers There is only endless years of waiting There is only loneliness and hating And somewhere someone is going Without anyone ever knowing
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Apr 13, 2014
Apr 13, 2014 at 5:04 PM UTC
The Cause
Oh Rock! Upon You I build my foothold Don't let me wander off astray Tie a knot of a bell on my pleading throat You who reign over all, King of Old! Seasick and half dead from the flooding dangers of my vanity Help! I'm getting ****** down-dry, a slice of my deadly miry pie You're hand not too short to lend me life anew and of serenity Oh Endless! Awakened from a dire sleep I come before Your tireless feet Bathe in springs of abundant grace 'Til my hands grow tireless toiling the earth for the shade of Your face Time may move its hands of tricks and deceit Stagnant pool of smirking clocks Right before I accept defeat Stay my hand with everlasting wings Oh Steadfast! Aiming towards love with eyes so true To You who deserves where all praise due is due You look through me, creepy candy coating Embraced with arms everlasting Love of which knows no cease One desire of which heals all disease Dogs lie await to be fed by the crumbs of You, Purest. Show me great and mighty things thy mind hast not knowest
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May 10, 2014
May 10, 2014 at 11:15 AM UTC
Oh Rock! Oh Endless! Oh Steadfast!
~~ Then it became a blue afternoon while came to evening They were the realities of her farewell Glowed in the dark blue, what an abstract shadow cast! Floating Autumn Clouds, away the red hibiscus grew gray heard a vague weird tune Then one morning Along with a purple flower red hibiscus saw inset and the dark chorus of a clay oven covered her face away in the loft several gourd hanging walking, walking down the way at the end, stood beneath a banyan tree Doors opened in the silence southern wind followed to move in the room randomized the bed cover, poetry books, morning news paper while closed the door opened the northern windows The tireless long night while I left the room, wandering as the lonely clouds went through the garden where the sky came down wanted to say life walked on foot A long sleepless night saw the stars fairs heard a vague weird tune At that April's night, Caught the sight of dry dropping leaves The smell of gardenia to bring me the new ideas of poetry touched the sky wandering on a raft of clouds filled with see you decided to Then it all went down together in the dark with blue anyhow a golden sun bought a yellow day and all the red flamboyant trees singing while standing beside the two sides of the road with the wind in breath, my dying And instead of go with them mingled the ways of life is changed when the ways rolled along a curve One January morning's mist coming off the sun on the dew I liked to walk barefoot in the soft sun with a woolen blanket covering At noon, the river flowing with streaming sound took flock a small Sampan toward upstream uprising mind grew cool with stream Today is just going to get lost beyond the horizon Feel to see back, Slowly known nature grew small with time, after some times shadows mingled with a dark space While came the night Footprints remain in the dust of shadows after millions of years to become fossils In the mind and In the deep heart of the Milky Way Her fade face is still to come and go Over time, in terms of conservation of energy Again when I opened the window At a long sleepless night Saw the stars fairs Heard a vague weird tune ~~ @Musfiq us shaleheen
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Jan 14, 2016
Jan 14, 2016 at 12:34 PM UTC
Songs of Farewell
~~ Then it became a blue afternoon while came to evening They were the realities of her farewell Glowed in the dark blue, what an abstract shadow cast! Floating Autumn Clouds, away the red hibiscus grew gray heard a vague weird tune Then one morning Along with a purple flower red hibiscus saw inset and the dark chorus of a clay oven covered her face away in the loft several gourd hanging walking, walking down the way at the end, stood beneath a banyan tree Doors opened in the silence southern wind followed to move in the room randomized the bed cover, poetry books, morning news paper while closed the door opened the northern windows The tireless long night while I left the room, wandering as the lonely clouds went through the garden where the sky came down wanted to say life walked on foot A long sleepless night saw the stars fairs heard a vague weird tune At that April's night, Caught the sight of dry dropping leaves The smell of gardenia to bring me the new ideas of poetry touched the sky wandering on a raft of clouds filled with see you decided to Then it all went down together in the dark with blue anyhow a golden sun bought a yellow day and all the red flamboyant trees singing while standing beside the two sides of the road with the wind in breath, my dying And instead of go with them mingled the ways of life is changed when the ways rolled along a curve One January morning's mist coming off the sun on the dew I liked to walk barefoot in the soft sun with a woolen blanket covering At noon, the river flowing with streaming sound took flock a small Sampan toward upstream uprising mind grew cool with stream Today is just going to get lost beyond the horizon Feel to see back, Slowly known nature grew small with time, after some times shadows mingled with a dark space While came the night Footprints remain in the dust of shadows after millions of years to become fossils In the mind and In the deep heart of the Milky Way Her fade face is still to come and go Over time, in terms of conservation of energy Again when I opened the window At a long sleepless night Saw the stars fairs Heard a vague weird tune ~~ @Musfiq us shaleheen
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When a mountain I dare not climb the ropes and tackles are in abundance In great shape my body and mind Not a weak link in the expedition But when a mountain I dare to climb the ropes and tackles are often misplaced Out of shape my body and mind Weakness as a spell does bind Hopes and dreams of tireless youth can be all but forgotten in the spiritually aged Strength the glittering cloak of youth can fade in weakening jaded resolve But in me common traits dissolve The bucking steed will never be tamed Pigeon-holed the misfortune of other souls has not been allowed by my resolve But this determination is not without cost The foothills of youth are far removed by erosion caused by unstable belief systems washed away into the Sea of Ambiguity A distant mountain I often see (distance the deceiver of proportion) Challenged at the foot of the formidable sight halfway climbing only to slip and fall Does this mountain need to be climbed Do youthful dreams need to be fulfilled When these dreams are all you ever had you wake up falling or climbing higher Driven by dreams and gifts and talents that rage like a river in the driest desert calling home what must come home holding on to what must be fulfilled Obstacles that have become landmarks seem to fade into obscurity like threats that always remain empty laughing at what used to bring tears I remain standing through all these trials not unscathed and a bit weather beaten halfway up another formidable mountain making up for lost time from a major fall.
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Jan 23, 2017
Jan 23, 2017 at 4:34 PM UTC
When a Mountain I Dare to Climb
When a mountain I dare not climb the ropes and tackles are in abundance In great shape my body and mind Not a weak link in the expedition But when a mountain I dare to climb the ropes and tackles are often misplaced Out of shape my body and mind Weakness as a spell does bind Hopes and dreams of tireless youth can be all but forgotten in the spiritually aged Strength the glittering cloak of youth can fade in weakening jaded resolve But in me common traits dissolve The bucking steed will never be tamed Pigeon-holed the misfortune of other souls has not been allowed by my resolve But this determination is not without cost The foothills of youth are far removed by erosion caused by unstable belief systems washed away into the Sea of Ambiguity A distant mountain I often see (distance the deceiver of proportion) Challenged at the foot of the formidable sight halfway climbing only to slip and fall Does this mountain need to be climbed Do youthful dreams need to be fulfilled When these dreams are all you ever had you wake up falling or climbing higher Driven by dreams and gifts and talents that rage like a river in the driest desert calling home what must come home holding on to what must be fulfilled Obstacles that have become landmarks seem to fade into obscurity like threats that always remain empty laughing at what used to bring tears I remain standing through all these trials not unscathed and a bit weather beaten halfway up another formidable mountain making up for lost time from a major fall.
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