"treasuries" poems
Even the greatest of treasuries
Cannot hold all of my memories
But that one flower is different.
Once you smell his mysteries
It stays in you, for centuries.
Jul 21, 2015
Jul 21, 2015 at 2:11 PM UTC
The feds are making headway
(generously passing out their treats!)
*while the whistle blower
and his boon companion
hit the 22nd floor*
fiscal plans
are tidily falling into place
and the suits are all busy
chasing their dimes
dancing around the spire
full of wine and cheer
(seems the demand side imbalance
has got everyone doing the same old shimmy!)
they’re all studying their bollinger bands
MACD's, and treasuries
just like the good old days
santali would say
while capitol hill is busy
with its own pleasantries;
*repatriate that currency
hold those rates
bring the boys back home!*
the affirmations are robust
and filled with glee!
conspiracy thinkers
are busy in their own back rooms
initiating the trade
and building their counter claims
as pork bellies
and soybeans
continue to soar
(looks like eddy and the margin men
are at it again!)
what happened to that bear masquerade anyways?
they really were a band of brothers
colourful clowns
with big painted smiles
ready to lead in any parade
but they met with the resistance
a horned wall
satan’s horsemen riding high
with bags hung heavy
under dark squinting eyes
are we near an end?
the undertakers will say
it's only a blink of an eye
to the thin red line
where risk takers and front men
all jump ship
debt addiction is crippling
and hell breaks loose
when entitlements are out
and towels are thrown in
there’s a center piece here
those pugnacious statesmen
with invigorating tales
have had their place
time to clip them at the limbs
and pull the punch from the bowl
(sobriety has its merits you know!)
let’s head to the commission
and throw darts to the board ~
seems the moral blueprints are fading
Nov 11, 2017
Nov 11, 2017 at 5:47 PM UTC
There are those who
despise tight spaces
who hate confinement
at least in their own basement
There's some truth
I concur
I need room
not some gloomy tomb
still there are some
who are confined
by the dust below
and the clouds above
they desire
the width of the equator
and claim
the height to the stars
but in the end
with all man as a subject
with majestic skyscrapers
and treasuries filled to the brim
their death creates borders
implodes skyscrapers
and loots the coffers
alas, as they started
in incubators
they remain claustrophobic
in coffins
the world is not enough
because we are not enough
Apr 9, 2015
Apr 9, 2015 at 2:57 PM UTC
A man may usually be known by the books he reads as well as by the company he keeps; for there is a companionship of books as well as of men; and one should always live in the best company, whether it be of books or of men.
A good book may be among the best of friends. It is the same today that it always was, and it will never change. It is the most patient and cheerful of companions. It does not turn its back upon us in times of adversity or distress. It always receives us with the same kindness; amusing and instructing us in youth, and comforting and consoling us in age.
Men often discover their affinity to each other by the mutual love they have for a book just as two persons sometimes discover a friend by the admiration which both entertain for a third. There is an old proverb, ‘Love me, love my dog.” But there is more wisdom in this:” Love me, love my book.” The book is a truer and higher bond of union. Men can think, feel, and sympathize with each other through their favorite author. They live in him together, and he in them.
A good book is often the best urn of a life enshrining the best that life could think out; for the world of a man’s life is, for the most part, but the world of his thoughts. Thus the best books are treasuries of good words, the golden thoughts, which, remembered and cherished, become our constant companions and comforters.
Books possess an essence of immortality. They are by far the most lasting products of human effort. Temples and statues decay, but books survive. Time is of no account with great thoughts, which are as fresh today as when they first passed through their author’s minds, ages ago. What was then said and thought still speaks to us as vividly as ever from the printed page. The only effect of time have been to sift out the bad products; for nothing in literature can long survive e but what is really good.
Books introduce us into the best society; they bring us into the presence of the greatest minds that have ever lived. We hear what they said and did; we see the as if they were really alive; we sympathize with them, enjoy with them, grieve with them; their experience becomes ours, and we feel as if we were in a measure actors with them in the scenes which they describe.
The great and good do not die, even in this world. Embalmed in books, their spirits walk abroad. The book is a living voice. It is an intellect to which on still listens.
Aug 20, 2013
Aug 20, 2013 at 2:20 AM UTC
I'm grateful for my avatar
Functioning well, the odd scar
Often bored of my own skin
I visit worlds waiting within
Physical demands eventually disrupt
Noisy distractions persist, interrupt
When night falls they tend to refrain
Hours may pass, I still remain
Inside transcendental places
Meeting new n' familiar faces
My senses heightened
Existence enlivened
An economical holiday
Safe and far away
From all life's worries
And its incessant flurries
Experiencing new chapters
That my brain captures
Just like "actual" memories
Stored in my treasuries
I'm starting to realise
That each sunrise
Lights a world that I can
Explore as a man
Just as I do with glee
In Dreamland so free
The difference being
I'm no longer dreaming
Choices endure
So I like to ensure
My future gains
By this choice which remains
What choice do I mean?
The ever moving scene
The Present as they call it
You get to draw it
Your body the pencil
With so much potential
Constantly writing
Is the story exciting?
It's hard to know
But I'm keen to touch snow
Which I've done in Dreamland.
Just not in Queensland.
Nor any physical place.
I want to go to space.
Sep 25, 2021
Sep 25, 2021 at 2:53 AM UTC
My lease is up, with my old memories
I have to stop going through the treasuries
I walk down the halls, looking over my old things
The old band of pots and pans has stopped ringing
I walk past the lines on the walls, measuring my happiness
Though the lines kept getting smaller, becoming less and less
The light bulbs of hope seem dimmer then before
Now each **** has a lock, I felt a need to change the doors
I locked myself away, I became enclosed
I dwelled on old memories, the ones I never told
The ones that stayed silent, the ones meant just for me
The moments of love and laughter, the only ones I need
Though as much as I want to stay, it's time for me to go
I've stayed here too long, this house is growing old
As much as I don't want to face my fears
These memories are too aged for me to live here
Apr 2, 2021
Apr 2, 2021 at 4:07 PM UTC
Ah, you ask
what the origin is of the word pharaoh
Let me assure you first
such questions need to be asked
and you have come to the right person
for I am an antimologist
one specialized in the study of the origin of words
1
Let us consider....pharaoh...pharaoh...pharaoh...
Ah, I have it...the answer retrieved
from the safe confines and treasuries
in the deepest recesses of my mind....
The pharaoh
was so called
for these rulers were,
in spite of the scorching heat and unforgiving sun,
these rulers were always fair
and never became dark
and so that clears the mystery of the first half of pharaoh
2
And moreover, it is revealed in the papyri
and graffiti in the tombs
these Pharaohs could row -
even as Rulers these Pharaohs could row -
you know
row, row, row your boat
and they could row
the full length and breadth of the Nile
And thus from the 2 Divine attributes
of FAIR and ROW
came the title: PHARAOH
3
But....but...but! you say
Ah, I know, I know - you are about to ask
why then is the word spelt as PHARAOH
and not as FAIRROW?
Ah, such questions you have this morning -
what are you on?
Too much sugar and candy floss last night?
Well, you are lucky as I’m not only an antimologist
but also an IsDorian
and so I shall dispel your doubts at once:
It’s simple - remember they were Ancient Egyptians
and these Ancient Egyptians did not know their English well
and so instead of the proper English FAIRROW
they gave us the mangled PHARAOH -
and let us not be too hard on them
as you also recall this was all in the infancy of human civilization
and we shall be graceful enough in our maturity to accept these errors,
for after all, these Ancient Egyptians were but as children
in the History of Human Motion
And I hope I have now dispelled your morning perturbations
as I rowed you over
the rivers of knowledge of antimology, IsDory
and the secret knowledge of FAIRROW and the PHARAOH
Nov 21, 2011
Nov 21, 2011 at 5:12 AM UTC
dry as a beggar's over-parched throat
as an over-burnt piece of blackened rye-toast
as the golden sand in Sahara roast
was the air o' the day of the black death-note
as the air crackled with the laughter of death
and claimed the millions as it left bereft
daughters of the earth their heart a-cleft
from the breath of the devil with the head of Macbeth
Houses, untenable, ditched searing memories,
Turned sarcophagi from life and its treasuries
Scorched skeletons of sagas and histories,
Of family feuds, celebrations and victories,
Of open secrets and whispered mysteries,
Years of toil blest by gold sunbeams,
The laughter of babes and the giggle of teens,
Now fractured windows and ash blackened beams,
Skeletal remains of life and its dreams.
Jan 10, 2025
Jan 10, 2025 at 4:28 AM UTC
I sat smoking a cigarette one day
on a bench inside the local park,
and some old, holier-than-thou type
came up to me, spouting some
nonsense about how "Those could ****
you, you know."
And I replied, concisely,
"Oh, I know."
"But," I continued,
"so do cars and guns
and terrible puns. So does
every poke, cut and scrape;
every bone you break;
every breath you take
and glass you drink;
every single thing you think;
every time you blink;
every scratch
and ray of sunlight you catch;
every pill you're swallowin'
and moment of sorrow you wallow in;
every religion you could be followin';
every word you speak
and meal you eat--
even walking on your own two feet.
So do hopes and votes,
popes and sore throats,
rhetoric and prose.
Everything kills, my friend,
though we only see it at the end--
and by then it's been too long
and we can no longer sing songs
of our discoveries and reveries,
and treasuries and pleasure-ies,
and best friends forever-ies.
The way I see it,
ain't no reason livin' if'n I'm givin'
two ***** 'bout all that;
I've already tossed in my hat."
Nov 22, 2011
Nov 22, 2011 at 5:34 PM UTC
i don't have a way with words
less poet
more the howling fool that chases them apart
my sweaty struggles always leave me blinded and alone
owed nothing
clinging to
empty
empty
spaces
i call these spaces stories
and like the siren that grants
a shipwreck and death against razor sharp rocks
i lure them in
found their deepest darkest secret
every word wants nothing more
than to die like a story
see,
i have a way with stories
and i'd like to imagine
that stories take up a place as the echo
of love when it grows from that first enticing smile
or the infant cry when it purges childhood pain
deep down in the hidden treasuries of
your most heartfelt of hearts
me tracing this with pitch black ink on paper
you committing this to your beating crimson heart
we're connected with an ancient thread that
even the gods dare not tear apart
see they too
in all their might and glory
want nothing more
than the epic bliss
of a truly good
and heartfelt
story.
Apr 25, 2015
Apr 25, 2015 at 12:22 PM UTC
You are encased
In a dream,
No way to pry and find
Its sealed treasuries.
These I have been using:
Clips, pens, knives and edges.
Can you read
The ambiguity
Donned by my actions?
Give me the key then
To unlock my aspirations.
Jul 5, 2010
Jul 5, 2010 at 11:43 PM UTC
A memory that starts to linger.
A memory that slowly goes away.
A memory that disappears at the flick of a finger.
A memory that sadly fades to grey.
What is a memory, you say?
A memory is something to reminisce,
It's something the mind can replay.
Memories that can bring such bliss.
But memories can also be so distant.
They could be so painful.
Long enough to be nonexistent,
Maybe to the point of thinking it was just a fable.
I once had wonderful memories,
The kind of memories that made me smile.
A lot filled with an abundant of treasuries,
So many memories that were very worthwhile.
As time went by,
I didn't enjoy those memories long.
Before I knew it, they made me cry.
Where could have it gone wrong?
My memories soon turned into jeopardy.
I was starting to lose my mind.
Everything was beginning to be a fading memory,
"Why does the world have to be so unkind?"
Dec 22, 2020
Dec 22, 2020 at 4:37 PM UTC
Acid notes have just begun;
When the mellowness is gone,
Acrid memories linger on.
Embrace the rush into unknowns,
Treasure pleasure's fleeting tones,
Know sorrows come when they are gone.
Pile up the dulcet memories;
In summer load your treasuries;
Lay up the sweetnesses of life
To feast upon in coming strife.
Apr 15, 2016
Apr 15, 2016 at 8:16 AM UTC
They say learn to let go
Let go with love and kindess
But wouldn't that entrap you with blindness
Others say hate to let go
But wouldn't that hurt you more
Won't that break you to the core
For me love the memories
But never hate consume you
For this is all treasuries
Treasuries to store in your heart
For this is loves art
The beauty of love
Always love what you had
Always love the little things
For those little moments and memories
These are what makes love special
This is the beauty of love
Oct 16, 2017
Oct 16, 2017 at 6:29 AM UTC
The emotions swirl inside of me, like dark jewels they roll around and glisten with a black light. The turmoil of my soul is a constant reminder of my indecision. Round and round the pit of my stomach turns, I try to get it out, but I cannot speak or even write down what I am feeling. I feel like I cannot breath as I try to express myself. All I have is a sea of letters trapped in the treasuries of my creative nature. I am going under and I am not sure I will come back. My pen has failed me and I cannot speak coherently. I am drowning in words and do not know how much longer I can stay afloat.
Nov 12, 2018
Nov 12, 2018 at 10:21 PM UTC
I don't think I'll able to make it..
I can no longer see the way..
The eventual storm is coming..
Dark sinister clouds opaquing the day..
You don't understand..
I just want to be free
of your ever changing actions,
your chaos in my reality.
I willingly give up my time,
to harvest our shared memories.
But you treat my passion as a crime,
my heart raided, just empty treasuries.
As our entwined lives break apart
burning into pretty embers,
falling into the darkness..
I just want you to remember..
Our twisted tree has empty branches,
what love remains, a lonely leaf.
Your fire turned me to ashes,
the void you left me, my new belief.
Invisible as my reality might sound,
the empty promises are just drowned,
noisy jealousy and anger all around,
in my heart, a piercing, devastating wound.
I have just forsaken my fainting joy,
inside all these pointless word transactions.
I can't see past your weak reactions
reflected through my love towards you.
I don't want to destroy life
but when everything I see is a lie,
Asking the clouded sky with a tired sigh:
where can my trust come from?
When my blood can be seen spilled on the ground,
the only thing I need is enough time to grieve.
After countless betrayals, I feel my hope is bound
and I want to pretend that I can still believe..
in me..
I just have to make it..
Will I be able to turn this around?
I feel like it's almost over now,
but also that there is still a long way to go.
Apr 1, 2015
Apr 1, 2015 at 12:01 PM UTC
( A poem I wrote many months ago when muslims were being killed in Palestine, Syria, Iraq, but it still applies in recent refreshed genocide of Palestinians)
Wars round the corner,
wars at every bend
Could it be that all this warring
would never ever end?
Mass massacre and genocide
is what we fear and apprehend
Selfish apartheid oppressing poor folks
On suppressing others they depend!
Why can't folks borrow love
and peace too learn to lend?
For peace-loving persons wars are hard to comprehend
But in which blessed century
will the world its ways amend?
Why not be all sincere
when peace they recommend?
Its hard to not avenge the dead
So to revenge and defend
some will feel the need to offend
Yet the oppressed dying more is the trend
Why can't we all as Adam's progeny
simply unite and blend?
The world's tearing apart, which saviour's gonna mend?
When the scissors of tyranny
all peace efforts ruthlessly rend!
When will all the saviours from heavenly heaven descend?
So we watch and hear all war cries
unto thin air ascend!
When peace be the only choice,
the only probable trend!
Ah, instead of fending off war drums
why peace plans off we fend?
Why peace is so complicated
with double standards at every bend?
Will all state treasuries on aggression alone
their budgets, finances spend?
Why can't every foe we know
turn into a caring friend?
So we're stalked by friendship
and ambushed by love godsend!
A world where warlords and war heroes become zeroes
who in the first place did offend.
With peace may no nation
merely play and pretend!
Hypocrisy is calling freedom fighters terrorists while their State bombing and shelling never end.
Jan 4, 2024
Jan 4, 2024 at 1:49 PM UTC
Empty holes of dark coffin spiders,
Left alone in a chamber of silence.
Sore stretched arms to push out wider,
Mind spinning full of violence.
Breathing sobs of memories,
Of the days centuries back.
When life was full of unnoticed treasuries,
Which slowly leave this cold quiet shack.
Dreading the moment when he comes,
Back to do the sick thing he loves.
Hearing the fearful beat my heart drums,
And the sound of clinking tools and his rubbery gloves.
My hope was long ago beaten,
My scars and bruises swollen.
My heart he has eaten,
My life he has stolen.
Aug 27, 2014
Aug 27, 2014 at 3:39 PM UTC
I’ve heard them say pain demands to be felt
This surely is a little too real.
Just a little to mean.
A little too… painful.
Could it be that it’s all just a dream?
Oh what this world would be like if you did not exist.
PAIN. I envy you. I adore you.
Sometimes you’re the only one that reminds me I’m alive.
The happiness is too... fake.
It comes and goes but never stays.
But you. PAIN, you never leave.
You make your home in our hearts,
And leave but a smidge of space for everything else.
You help us build walls of ice and steel.
Trapping us behind a castle of heartache so deep.
You’re a loyal companion, always ever-present.
We try and fail to bury you, what is your intent?
Alas, you rise stronger each time,
Your army is vast and your war sublime.
You crush and destroy everything inside.
Slowly making us craze while enjoying the ride.
I welcome you to walk with me.
Even in my PAIN I will find victory.
You are a master at conjuring up memories.
So I will sit and watch with you these treasuries.
I embrace your skillful hand.
In your presence I will stand.
Unafraid of your power.
Standing proud in the face of your towers.
Let us walk for we are one.
In this race through life I now know I am not alone.
May 6, 2016
May 6, 2016 at 3:11 AM UTC
Oftentimes, you realize, that the shaking of an intangible void, desperate, clinging before it too is lost on an otherworldly transform of otherwise incomprehensible, nightmarish, or null thoughts, buried between the conceptions of self-deliverance and a bone-knuckled release into an endlessly exploding oblivion, or the intangible touch of a thousand tiger's treasuries.
Mar 20, 2020
Mar 20, 2020 at 11:52 PM UTC
Way up to reconcilliation so steep,
Memorandum of understanding so creep,
Shortage of fuel in our reserves no beep,
Political promises in abundance they cant
keep,
Yet the pain in our hearts so so deep!! With no complains daily meals we skip,
Economic status swallowed by recession
lip,
hefty and handsome rewards given to
zealous supporters as tip,
public treasuries in coffers depleted in form of expensive trip,
Yet the pain in our hearts so so deep!! Yet the pain in our hearts so so deep,
God's succor, alleviates our pains,
Imbeciles at the helm of power with no
brains,
Hideous thoughts full of personal gains,
Yet the pain in our hearts so so deep!!
Jul 12, 2016
Jul 12, 2016 at 6:29 AM UTC
An alarm sounds, to get you out of bed
Though you want to sleep more instead
Then you remember this is it the last day
And that sparks a change in your head
You get up you get dressed
Some put on their best
But you could honestly care less
If you looked like the rest because there soon
Shall be no more tests
Yes my friends, it's the last day of school
You've made your memories
You've shared your testimonies
And proved that in the end you rule
You get on a bus one last time
Or get in a car you've just bought
And take the last drive there
Maybe for the last time in your lifetime
You get to those double doors
The ones you walked through every day
Pushing other kids out of your way
Because you had to get to class
To finally finish the movie you were watching wasn't it episode 4 of star wars
An hour or so later a bell tolls
You and your friends go to the commons
To pull a last minute prank on those poor souls
Filling the whole school with toilet rolls
We exchange little memories
Which we keep in the treasuries
Of our hearts because truly
How can we forget this year's novelties
The principal gives his kids a final goodbye
And we begin to scream and cry
For some of those kids this is the last bye
They'll ever say so they say it with a bittersweet sigh
We stand together one last time
Like the spartan 300 at wartime
Like family in springtime
Preparing for what is to be the summertime
The last bell tolls and the fat lady sings
Her last song all the bittersweet joy it brings
Because despite all the big exams and things
We're still gonna miss this place
Though the door still swings
Bye bye old year, hello summertime
Until next year's gloom
Sunshine and rainbows
Until school once again takes our down time
Jun 18, 2017
Jun 18, 2017 at 12:45 AM UTC
Long has passed since through fate we came to meet
Beneath the heavens, the stars, and the planets.
And now soon the ends of our times does fleet
Requiem wherein our couplings unbalanced.
Piercing blade that tore my features apart
darts pin ***** marks across my memories
whilst storing shadows of our shared accost
of ancient games, loving acts, treasuries
revealed, yet not taken wholly true
for whomst amongst us claims omnipotence?
Impotently I strain to stay anew
with you, and disregard the consequence.
Alas, nawt we gain in our steadfast embrace
Yet still I yearn to steady your stoic case.
Aug 24, 2017
Aug 24, 2017 at 6:57 AM UTC
Love, the most powerful four letter word in the world. Depending on its user it has the power to uplift and have you on cloud 9 or leave you broken and somber for many days and nights.
I unfortunately have to endure its power's downside because of you. You who said you loved me but yet time revealed that wasn't true. You who said so many sweet things that all ended up being spoiled truths.
I can still taste the nectar that masked your poisonous kisses lingering on my lips. Your *** seducing cologne still imbedded in my senses from our bodies' intimate connections.
You pretended to want a real thing but that wasn't your intentions. You only wanted to have me open like a chest full gold, taking all the treasuries it holds.
You deprived me from experiencing love's great essence and what it really means. Took the keys to my heart and kept yours locked in purgatory.
One day the tables will turn and you'll confess your sins. Feeling all the echoes of the cries you caused and the time you wasted forever lost. Reaping the effects you sowed of your love blasphemy woes.
Oct 26, 2016
Oct 26, 2016 at 6:06 PM UTC