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a thing most new complete fragile intense,
which wholly trembling memory undertakes
—your kiss,the little pushings of flesh,makes
my body sorry when the minute moon
is a remarkable splinter in the quick
of twilight
            ….or if sunsets utters one
unhurried muscled huge chromatic
fist skilfully modeling silence
—to feel how through the stopped entire day
horribly and seriously thrills
the moment of enthusiastic space
is a little wonderful, and say
Perhaps her body touched me;and to face
suddenly the lighted living hills
What does it mean to be a Chicano/Latino in the US?
What does it mean to be Black in the US?
What does it mean to be a minority in the States?
You know what that means...it means that we have a lot to prove  
As in the words of Booker T. Washington:

"When a white boy undertakes a task,
it is taken for granted that he will succeed.
On the other hand, people are usually surprised
If the [*****] boy does not fail. In a word, the [*****] youth
starts out with the presumption against him."

Now in a society where institutionalized racism,
Or racism without racists, prevails
We are disenfranchised from even being considered youth.
We are a bunch of wetbacks, idiots, *****...you name it,
Where failure is expected of us...

...but enough is enough, we should not abide to the stereotypes
And stigmas that society stamps on our foreheads.
As a matter of fact, I do not ever recall giving this white patriarchal society
My blessing to call me whatever the * it decides to call me.
We are here to take manners into our own hands, here to do whatever the heck our heart desires.
We are here to create the change that we wish to see in the world.
We are here to become the few & growing positive statistics that we fight for.
We are here to create voice and shed the light on those wins that we take to our hearts.

No one is here here to reflect the stereotype that this *
**
up society
Tries to slap us with on an everyday basis.
We are here to change perception of who we are and where we stand in society.
We are positive statistics...not a stereotype.
Quote taken from Booker T. Washington's "Up From Slavery: An Autobiography"
Mateuš Conrad Jun 2021
i thought it was ****** obvious what i was doing there,
i walked in with my Slayer band t-shirt off
wiping off the sweat from my face...
ah... a cheap bottle of wine... £3.50... a Chilean Merlot...
nothing like cheap wine for some kalimotxo...
and if that wine doesn't do the trick for a nightcap...
the cheapest whiskey available... no more than
35cl: but i promised myself not to drink both completely...
obviously the wine doesn't have an electronic tag
that needs to be taken off at the cashiers'...
but the whiskey does...
come midnight it's this long centipede winding through
the self-checkout aisles...
two... of the finest quality Hijab mystique organising
the flow of people...
oh... the finest...
                     first you scan the items...
then you're asked to wait for the confirmation of your
age... so someone has to some with
a ticket (so little about all of this is about
self-checking-out)... and then... you have to walk
to the end of the aisle to get the electronic tag off...
with your receipt...
so i went to the end... where the bit that takes
the electronic tags off is placed in a drawer...
along with... this night in particular...
a raw white onion... and some baby clothes that
were returned all piled up in a shopping trolley...
apparently i was blocking something important...
that's when i was asked this profound
existential question:
                           what are you doing here?
oh **** me... it hit me like a rock...
i sometimes wish for three things... a slightly bigger
phallus... a much more bushier beard...
and... a talent for wit... for waspish wit...
for playful wit...
   some whiplash wit...
                 something that i might: snap out of something
instead of... what just came out?
a what... sorry... didn't hear that...
'what are you doing here?!'
     exactly those exclamation marks with purpose
of interrogation...
- am i... just growing from the roots up?
- am i... is Goodmayes a no-go zone for white
boys after a 10pm curfew or something?
i grew up around these parts...
i went to school around these parts...
a predominantly Irish neighbourhood...
is this a no-go zone?

i mean... i don't expect pleasantries from
cashiers at... midnight... but it's not like i was
the only person there...
was i holding a cloud of balloons and
wearing a clown suit with full-make up?
did i have an pink elephants on a string
or a golden fly on a chain?

'what are you doing here?!'
what a snap of juicy vindictiveness in that
tiny Hijab specimen of beauty...
i somehow must have invaded her space
or some *******...
but... i was there to get the electronic
tag off the neck of my whiskey bottle...
i don't think i was there to later come
home and write this nonsense:
if she asked me that same question:
on the top of Arthur's Seat in Edinburgh
at 5am...
but then again: no one asks those questions
at 5am on the longest day in the year
on Arthur's Seat... a good morning:
chirpy one... isn't it? suffices...

    being asked a profound existential question
in a supermarket: at midnight of
a Monday is...

   aha... now it's sort of obvious...
            if i decided to go elsewhere with my wine...
say... to the brothel...
and i came across Khadaya... Khadija...
            Khada... all aspects of nakedness...
so this is what my face looks like
to women... after i lost... 20kg in mass?
  i'm attractive once more...
              honest anchoring... she's about to receive
£2.00 per minute for an hour...
and she likes my face... and i like her face...
eh... *** like a Lamborghini and a body that looks
but more importantly feels as comfortable
to touch as... one might hope to find oneself
sitting in a well worn leather armchair...

always objectification within the need for metaphor...
allusions to...
but a bit different when it can't be so obvious...
she's this Hijab donning princess Jasmine
working in the supermarket
and i'm just a cyclist wearing a Slayer t-shirt
who dropped in for a nightcap of cheap
wine and cheap whiskey...
or perhaps to her... i'm...
   some myth of a northern barbarian who...
arrived in Jerusalem with Barbarossa pickled
in a barrel... hmm?
         well... i'm not exactly a werewolf...
   not just yet...

again: was i there to solve a Su Doku puzzle or change
a light-bulb via mime?!
flow of people... i was placing myself
in the least obstructive way possible:
now... i'm overthinking the punch line...
it's coming off as if i'm somehow autistic or something...
who wouldn't...

in the most un-spec-ta-cu-lar of circumstance
you get such an open question...
before having my wisdom teeth pulled out
i asked the anaesthetic man:
quo vadis?

               seems more correct to ask:
such a generality... but not in such a defensive...
almost scolding manner...
i did mention she was a Hijab gem...
a petite little thing who forgot to objectify me
as human traffic of buyer...
with a purse's worth of whiskey
that had an electronic tag attached to the neck
that needed to be "dismantled"...

after skim-watching a few episodes
of the Sopranos... Tony Soprano is deemed an
attractive man by his psychiatrist...
so... what am i? a ******* ageing Adonis
or something?
now it feels bothersome to have lost
those 20kg in mass...
100 push ups a day... 100 stomach crunches...
cycling...
i knew this would land me in a spot of
bother... no more prostitutes joking
(kindly) that i have bigger **** than they have...

thank god the omission of a sudden limp
**** because: she shouldn't be in the profession
and i'm in no mood to ****
a tender, shy, deer...
               because it works when it's required
to work and i'll go through 5 before
it becomes resolute: that lilac / blue pill
will not make me prove a point on just 1...

dinner? cinema?
if she offers up the full platter of ******* oysters
and her body becomes the whole
complexity of cinema...
but not being corned by two Hijab beauties
at the self-checkout aisle
coordinating human traffic...

again: forever in the reiteration pause...
'what are you doing here?!'
am i supposed to be somewhere else?
the question asks itself:
why would a girl of your "sort" ask a whitey
that sort of question?
is this a no-go zone area akin to Malmo
in Sweden... am i expected to don
a ******* Pakistani pyjama to walk safe...
don a bushier beard than the one
i adorn trimmed by an Ottoman?

clearly i'm fuckable and clearly i also ****...
if she was allowed a different scenario
where she wasn't a self-checkout coordinator
and i wasn't speedily trying to get out
from the concept of a queue she might:
ask a less abrupt a question...

**** anything that moves...
       one motto worth keeping in mind when
reading Kant's labyrinth...
i promise this to anyone who undertakes
the "mission"... the part of the critique of pure reason
that comes last in the second volume
that's: a consolidation piece...
that's title: the transcendental methodology...
oh god... it's like this (almost) revelation:
but it's most certainly a joy a cascade to read...
that's when Kant relaxes and doesn't bother
to stress his... systematic approach to...
not language: to the idea...
what the idea is? that's my own to digest...
even these years later...

if she was older than me...
if she wasn't sizing me up... seeing how...
my shadow is probably larger than her body
come noon...
how she might just be...
constipated / claustrophobic through all her...
restrictions in attire...
how she was paired up with another girl
and there was no forbidding authority
of same-faith colleagues looking over them...
she asked me the most profound
question no one is expected to hear
in a supermarket...

           hence these words as spiral...
it's not the first time i've seen these two Hijab beauties...
i can't imagine...
having the audacity to write an autobiography
post... in vivo mortem!
i can't imagine writing... succumbing to write...
after... having lived... a most...
exploitative life...
i shudder at the prospect of reading...
Seven Years in Tibet...
i have the original copy...
it's enough that i read:
Harold Norse's: Memoirs of a ******* Angel...
that's enough for me...

             in writing there's only the fiction:
the fantasy... or the absolutely terrible mundane:
grit...
lives loved by the gods so that they might
be shared with as many as possible
do not belong in the realm of words...
however terrible it might sound...
all the ancient Roman poets wrote prosaic:
if not maxims then anecdotal evidence of...
taking leave: taking leisure in scrutiny..
too much of what's supposedly life
and how language is employed in "said" life
is limited to... bureaucratic fudge-packaging...
try escape that cycle of: abuse of informal language...
when you're expected to begin with:
dear sir /  madam...
   and end with: kind regards /
the distinction between yours faithfully vs. yours
sincerely...

she took a fancy after i already took her fancy...
perhaps it's a shame...
of the hierarchies of man...
and the stresses brought on by time...
all this... graveyard of space.
I didn’t make you know how glad I was
To have you come and camp here on our land.
I promised myself to get down some day
And see the way you lived, but I don’t know!
With a houseful of hungry men to feed
I guess you’d find…. It seems to me
I can’t express my feelings any more
Than I can raise my voice or want to lift
My hand (oh, I can lift it when I have to).
Did ever you feel so? I hope you never.
It’s got so I don’t even know for sure
Whether I am glad, sorry, or anything.
There’s nothing but a voice-like left inside
That seems to tell me how I ought to feel,
And would feel if I wasn’t all gone wrong.
You take the lake. I look and look at it.
I see it’s a fair, pretty sheet of water.
I stand and make myself repeat out loud
The advantages it has, so long and narrow,
Like a deep piece of some old running river
Cut short off at both ends. It lies five miles
Straight away through the mountain notch
From the sink window where I wash the plates,
And all our storms come up toward the house,
Drawing the slow waves whiter and whiter and whiter.
It took my mind off doughnuts and soda biscuit
To step outdoors and take the water dazzle
A sunny morning, or take the rising wind
About my face and body and through my wrapper,
When a storm threatened from the Dragon’s Den,
And a cold chill shivered across the lake.
I see it’s a fair, pretty sheet of water,
Our Willoughby! How did you hear of it?
I expect, though, everyone’s heard of it.
In a book about ferns? Listen to that!
You let things more like feathers regulate
Your going and coming. And you like it here?
I can see how you might. But I don’t know!
It would be different if more people came,
For then there would be business. As it is,
The cottages *** built, sometimes we rent them,
Sometimes we don’t. We’ve a good piece of shore
That ought to be worth something, and may yet.
But I don’t count on it as much as ***.
He looks on the bright side of everything,
Including me. He thinks I’ll be all right
With doctoring. But it’s not medicine—
Lowe is the only doctor’s dared to say so—
It’s rest I want—there, I have said it out—
From cooking meals for hungry hired men
And washing dishes after them—from doing
Things over and over that just won’t stay done.
By good rights I ought not to have so much
Put on me, but there seems no other way.
*** says one steady pull more ought to do it.
He says the best way out is always through.
And I agree to that, or in so far
As that I can see no way out but through—
Leastways for me—and then they’ll be convinced.
It’s not that *** don’t want the best for me.
It was his plan our moving over in
Beside the lake from where that day I showed you
We used to live—ten miles from anywhere.
We didn’t change without some sacrifice,
But *** went at it to make up the loss.
His work’s a man’s, of course, from sun to sun,
But he works when he works as hard as I do—
Though there’s small profit in comparisons.
(Women and men will make them all the same.)
But work ain’t all. *** undertakes too much.
He’s into everything in town. This year
It’s highways, and he’s got too many men
Around him to look after that make waste.
They take advantage of him shamefully,
And proud, too, of themselves for doing so.
We have four here to board, great good-for-nothings,
Sprawling about the kitchen with their talk
While I fry their bacon. Much they care!
No more put out in what they do or say
Than if I wasn’t in the room at all.
Coming and going all the time, they are:
I don’t learn what their names are, let alone
Their characters, or whether they are safe
To have inside the house with doors unlocked.
I’m not afraid of them, though, if they’re not
Afraid of me. There’s two can play at that.
I have my fancies: it runs in the family.
My father’s brother wasn’t right. They kept him
Locked up for years back there at the old farm.
I’ve been away once—yes, I’ve been away.
The State Asylum. I was prejudiced;
I wouldn’t have sent anyone of mine there;
You know the old idea—the only asylum
Was the poorhouse, and those who could afford,
Rather than send their folks to such a place,
Kept them at home; and it does seem more human.
But it’s not so: the place is the asylum.
There they have every means proper to do with,
And you aren’t darkening other people’s lives—
Worse than no good to them, and they no good
To you in your condition; you can’t know
Affection or the want of it in that state.
I’ve heard too much of the old-fashioned way.
My father’s brother, he went mad quite young.
Some thought he had been bitten by a dog,
Because his violence took on the form
Of carrying his pillow in his teeth;
But it’s more likely he was crossed in love,
Or so the story goes. It was some girl.
Anyway all he talked about was love.
They soon saw he would do someone a mischief
If he wa’n't kept strict watch of, and it ended
In father’s building him a sort of cage,
Or room within a room, of hickory poles,
Like stanchions in the barn, from floor to ceiling,—
A narrow passage all the way around.
Anything they put in for furniture
He’d tear to pieces, even a bed to lie on.
So they made the place comfortable with straw,
Like a beast’s stall, to ease their consciences.
Of course they had to feed him without dishes.
They tried to keep him clothed, but he paraded
With his clothes on his arm—all of his clothes.
Cruel—it sounds. I ’spose they did the best
They knew. And just when he was at the height,
Father and mother married, and mother came,
A bride, to help take care of such a creature,
And accommodate her young life to his.
That was what marrying father meant to her.
She had to lie and hear love things made dreadful
By his shouts in the night. He’d shout and shout
Until the strength was shouted out of him,
And his voice died down slowly from exhaustion.
He’d pull his bars apart like bow and bow-string,
And let them go and make them twang until
His hands had worn them smooth as any ox-bow.
And then he’d crow as if he thought that child’s play—
The only fun he had. I’ve heard them say, though,
They found a way to put a stop to it.
He was before my time—I never saw him;
But the pen stayed exactly as it was
There in the upper chamber in the ell,
A sort of catch-all full of attic clutter.
I often think of the smooth hickory bars.
It got so I would say—you know, half fooling—
“It’s time I took my turn upstairs in jail”—
Just as you will till it becomes a habit.
No wonder I was glad to get away.
Mind you, I waited till *** said the word.
I didn’t want the blame if things went wrong.
I was glad though, no end, when we moved out,
And I looked to be happy, and I was,
As I said, for a while—but I don’t know!
Somehow the change wore out like a prescription.
And there’s more to it than just window-views
And living by a lake. I’m past such help—
Unless *** took the notion, which he won’t,
And I won’t ask him—it’s not sure enough.
I ’spose I’ve got to go the road I’m going:
Other folks have to, and why shouldn’t I?
I almost think if I could do like you,
Drop everything and live out on the ground—
But it might be, come night, I shouldn’t like it,
Or a long rain. I should soon get enough,
And be glad of a good roof overhead.
I’ve lain awake thinking of you, I’ll warrant,
More than you have yourself, some of these nights.
The wonder was the tents weren’t snatched away
From over you as you lay in your beds.
I haven’t courage for a risk like that.
Bless you, of course, you’re keeping me from work,
But the thing of it is, I need to be kept.
There’s work enough to do—there’s always that;
But behind’s behind. The worst that you can do
Is set me back a little more behind.
I sha’n't catch up in this world, anyway.
I’d rather you’d not go unless you must.
Michael R Burch Apr 2021
ALBERT EINSTEIN POEMS

These are "poems" I created from Albert Einstein quotes, changing a word here and there for the sake of meter and rhyme...



A question that sometimes drives me hazy:
am I or are the others crazy?
—Albert Einstein, interpretation by Michael R. Burch



Relativity and the 'Physics' of Love
by Albert Einstein, interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Sit next to a pretty girl for an hour,
it seems like a minute.
Sit on a red-hot stove for a minute,
it seems like an hour.
That's relativity!

Oh, it should be possible
to explain the laws of physics
to a barmaid! ...
but how could she ever,
in a million years,
explain love to an Einstein?

All these primary impulses,
not easily described in words,
are the springboards
of man's actions—because
any man who can drive safely
while kissing a pretty girl
is simply not giving the kiss
the attention it deserves!



Solitude
by Albert Einstein, interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Solitude is painful
when one is young,
but delightful
when one is more mature.

I live in that solitude
which was painful in my youth,
but seems delicious now,
in the years of my maturity.

Now it gives me great pleasure, indeed,
to see the stubbornness
of an incorrigible nonconformist
so warmly acclaimed...
and yet it seems vastly strange
to be known so universally
and yet be so lonely.



Morality
by Albert Einstein, interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Still, as far as I'm concerned,
I prefer silent vice
to ostentatious virtue:
I don't know,
I don't care,
and it doesn't make any difference!



Against Hubris
by Albert Einstein, interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Science without religion is lame,
religion without science is blind,
and whoever undertakes to establish himself
as the judge of Truth and Knowledge
is shipwrecked by the laughter of the gods.



War and Peace
by Albert Einstein, interpretation by Michael R. Burch

But heroism on command,
senseless violence,
and all the loathsome nonsense
that goes by the name of patriotism:
how passionately I hate them!

Perfection of means
and confusion of ends
seem to characterize our age
and it has become appallingly obvious
that our technology
has exceeded our humanity,
that technological progress
is like an axe in the hands of a pathological criminal,
and that the attempt to combine wisdom and power
has only rarely been successful
and then only for a short while.

It is my conviction
that killing under the cloak of war
is nothing but an act of ******.
(I do not know what weapons
World War III will be fought with,
but World War IV will be fought
with sticks and stones.)

Oh, how I wish that somewhere
there existed an island
for those who are wise
and of goodwill! ...

In such a place even I
would be an ardent patriot,
for I am not only a pacifist,
but a militant pacifist.
I am willing to fight for peace,
for nothing will end war
unless the people themselves
refuse to go to war.

Our task must be to free ourselves
by widening our circle of compassion
to embrace all living creatures
and the whole of nature and its beauty.
And peace cannot be kept by force;
it can only be achieved by understanding.



Mystery
by Albert Einstein, interpretation by Michael R. Burch

There are two ways to live your life:
one is as though nothing is a miracle,
the other is as though everything is a miracle.

The most beautiful thing we can experience is the mysterious:
it is the source of all true art and all science.
He to whom this emotion is a stranger,
who can no longer pause to wonder and stand rapt in awe,
is as good as dead: his eyes are closed.



Curiosity
by Albert Einstein, interpretation by Michael R. Burch

The important thing is not to stop questioning.

Curiosity has its own reason for existing.

One cannot help but be in awe when he contemplates
the mysteries of eternity,
of life,
of the marvelous structure of reality.

It is enough if one tries merely to comprehend a little of this mystery every day.

Never lose a holy curiosity.

People do not grow old no matter how long we live.
We never cease to stand like curious children
before the great Mystery into which we were born.



Character
by Albert Einstein, interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Great spirits have often encountered violent opposition from weak minds
because anger dwells only in the ***** of fools
and weakness of attitude soon becomes weakness of character.

Only two things are infinite: the universe and human stupidity (and I'm not sure about the former) ;
furthermore, we can't solve problems by using the same kind of thinking we used when we created them.

The world is a dangerous place: not just because of the people who are evil,
but also because of the good people who don't do anything about it.

He who joyfully marches to music rank and file has already earned my contempt:
he has been given a large brain by mistake, since for him the spinal cord would surely suffice.



These are poem about Albert Einstein or in which I mention him ...



Excerpts from “Travels with Einstein”
by Michael R. Burch

I went to Berlin to learn wisdom
from Adolph. The wild spittle flew
as he screamed at me, with great conviction:
“Please despise me! I look like a Jew!”

So I flew off to ’Nam to learn wisdom
from tall Yankees who cursed “yellow” foes.
“If we lose this small square,” they informed me,
earth’s nations will fall, dominoes!”

I then sat at Christ’s feet to learn wisdom,
but his Book, from its genesis to close,
said: “Men can enslave their own brothers!”
(I soon noticed he lacked any clothes.)

So I traveled to bright Tel Aviv
where great scholars with lofty IQs
informed me that (since I’m an Arab)
I’m unfit to lick dirt from their shoes.  

At last, done with learning, I stumbled
to a well where the waters seemed sweet:
the mirage of American “justice.”
There I wept a real sea, in defeat.

Originally published by Café Dissensus



The Cosmological Constant
by Michael R. Burch

Einstein the frizzy-haired
claimed E equals MC squared.
Thus all mass decreases
as activity ceases?
Not my mass, my *** declared!



ASStronomical
by Michael R. Burch

Relativity, the theorists’ creed,
claims mass increases with speed.
My (m)*** grows when I sit it.
Mr. Einstein, get with it;
equate its deflation, I plead!



Relative to Whom?
by Michael R. Burch

Einstein’s theory, incredibly silly,
says a relative grows *****-nilly
at speeds close to light.
Well, his relatives might,
but mine grow their m(*****) more stilly!



Relative Theory I
by Michael R. Burch

Einstein’s "relative" theory
says masses increase, all too clearly,
at speeds close to light.
Well, his relatives’ might,
but mine grow their m(*****) more stilly!



Relative Theory II
by Michael R. Burch

Einstein’s peculiar theory
excludes all my relatives, clearly,
since my relatives’ *****
increase their prone masses
while approaching light speed—not nearly!



Relative Theory III
by Michael R. Burch

Relativity, we’re led to believe,
proves masses increase with great speed.
But it seems my huge family
must be an anomaly;
since their (m)***** increase, gone to seed!



A Child’s Christmas Prayer of Despair for a Hindu Saint

Santa Claus,
for Christmas, please,
don’t bring me toys, or games, or candy . . .
just . . . Santa, please,
I’m on my knees! . . .
please don’t let Jesus torture Gandhi!

Will Jesus Christ cause or allow Albert Einstein and Mahatma Gandhi to be tortured in an "eternal hell" for guessing wrong about which earthly religion to believe? What about Jesus's parable of the Good Samaritan, who put aside religious differences to practice compassion? Did Jesus, who saved all his sternest criticism for hypocrites, talk the talk but fail to walk the walk himself? Or did Christian theologians get something very, very wrong? And what would Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny say about such intolerance and infinite cruelty?  




The Top Ten Einstein Quotations: The Wit and Wisdom of Albert Einstein

You never truly understand something until you can explain it to your grandmother.

We all know that light travels faster than sound. That's why certain people appear bright until we hear them speak.

Only two things are infinite: the universe and human stupidity (and I'm not sure about the former) .

The difference between stupidity and genius is that genius has its limits.

An intellectual solves a problem. A genius avoids it.

The only reason for time is so that everything doesn't happen at once.

The most incomprehensible thing about the world is that it is at all comprehensible.

The hardest thing in the world to understand is the income tax.

Not everything that can be counted counts, and not everything that counts can be counted.

Gravitation is not responsible for people falling in love!

Keywords/Tags: Albert Einstein, poet, poems, poetry, relativity, physics, love, time, genius, stupidity, universe, light
-Now here is why I said that.

Think about this poem's title. Did you think it was something deep or profound?Did you think it was some great truth?
nope. I just took some words that sounded pretty and strung them together.
So why put your trust in words that you have no understanding of, but that sound nice, and persuade you into being content and not asking questions?
Hal Loyd Denton May 2013
From gentle falling snow to air born blossoms Mexico City stroll the city observe the
Architecture with the tree above fragrant and scented the place and its history is mind and soul
Altering the culture undertakes enhancing you could quickly transport yourself to ancient
Mesopotamia at the gate Ishtar a honing emerges from the submersed recesses of knowing
Plentiful abundance you are a space traveler in your own planet what happened the possibility
Of renewal of nature triggered something wondrous you are on solid ground but you are also in
Wrapped by Cinergy so large nature unbound intricate exquisite the very mood of life
Expressed through a wild heart that never fails to excite stillness holds your sight you presume
Certain facts just by the innocence that casually hangs in display beauty enriches then
Sweetly on a wafting breeze the fragrance of Lilac everything now is sought in this perfume that
Can never be bottled but it catches and releases joy and thrills across the tendrils of the heart
Amazing disembodied that can’t be matched or missed every turning ever filling with
Enchantment pleasure that is universal everyone is accosted delighted the spectacle is then
Perfected by rain and mist that leaves droplets on all that is visible saturation enters and drips
Unconsciously in the extravagant folds of the soul bliss awash in environs where only gentle
Fields grow such richness competes with the poverty that rules at so many points in life we
Walk imprisoned then it occurs happens without fanfare or announcement nature explodes as
Far as the eye beholds a virtual fair an extravaganza nothing is left unaffected you are invited to
This show you are to be a participant in life at its far reaches the swirl the blending of affection
And tranquility gifts so unabashedly presented hush befalls the entire world quietly it
Commands Without rehearsal the perfect show comes to life for your viewing and pleasure
Though we are buffeted by strife and challenges that at times seem unreasonable but just by
Taking a stroll and looking at the garments Mother Nature adorns herself in paths and gates
That are lying before you twist and turns that speak to the essential human in us all come to
Such wonder all you have to do is open yourself cherished living you will find created by an all
Loving Heart for His children you are the entitled keepers and reapers of a harvest that
Continues its Renewal year by year and truly does get sweeter as time goes by
Antony Glaser May 2018
She changes with the seasons.
Sara stores her secrets
in the harvest diary she keeps.
Shes natural in the Autumn
her smile can freeze doubt,
she has arms wide to be a comforter,
providing shelter from your woes  !
Loving you is like I'm falling in and out of a world where no one cares about emotions, dazed and confused about how or why these feelings come and go, there's something unexplained about this guy, He looks at me as if I were the only one around, his smile undertakes any sadness deep within my soul, his gorgeous eyes , hypnotic and sparkling .staring straight into them is like him seeing right through you , you want him to see your story but  you are too afraid he might see those scars, you fought a Long Battle between yourself and, she takes a quick glimpse of him as he said. I know.. Your story. And you need  to forgive and forget..those long lost battles with Yourself...
Even those scars will never fade nor be forgotten you can always say I am a warrior, I have fought. Through thick and thin, I've seen better
, I've seen worse but you , you have  managed to pull through and throw  away all of those meaningless, endless days of sorrow ,... We can undertake anything together.. Do You know why?? .. Because I am a warrior to.
neth jones Aug 2018
I Sleep ;
I Slip
In Doze, I Seep out into the Scenes ;

In Potions Deep
In Notions Cold and Preasuring
I Fit and Knit my Crown
I Coral
I Knot and Concrete a Frown
But though I Invite my Efforts
My Thoughting is Leaks and Tearing *

Over Whale but Underwater
I Recover Nothing Reassuring
Slowing to a Pale
In Ocean Cold
My Feedings are Slurring to a Drown
My Motions ; Enwombed and Collected
An Unfoetal, my Body Undertakes a Vulnerable Mould

Above
The Surface
The Ship Blinks, on Fire
And Gifts from the Broken Hold Sink to me
It's all a Wink Directed at me
A Humour

But I am become Prepared Still
For the Next Life
I Discard, Decending Still
A Treat Sunk Below
A Monsterous Breakfast

                                                 *note­ : as in, secreting saline, watery fluid
Char Blackmon Mar 2019
Sort of my tears
Downing from my drowning years
Misplaced by the thoughts and the fears, the way I volunteered
Gutted with the truth
Peeled from honesty command
Reprimand every plan that you have in ill hand
Grasping my inner thoughts
Forcing life’s demands
A fascination with illumination at grand, we need resources so you folks can understand
Understand the apocalypse
That this earth creates withstands
No underhand punishment for all our services undertakes
Aggression that reflects submission of a ****** decision
Finessing bad investments that does pay diabolical visions
Visiulizing the future
With expectations of a better nation
Memorizing the gratuitous grids investigating relations of races
Ripping my dedication
To eradicate your personal needs
Reinventing the seeds to ******* these eternal breeds, steadily free with a force feed so like paleo we crossbreed
Bleeding for a greater oppression
Wishing for a better revision
Exceeding admissions teaching lessons for a better concession
To all who receives the valuable lesson

By: Lyrical C n Glen Edward Bush Jr
Collaboration
Everyday I wake up
I glance at the sky
To get a natural high
From spiritual sighs
Ha got me head now
Filled with sun energy
Felt like I was
Listen to a clergy
Man can you innerstand
My wisdom that
Sits in my hand
Palms never wet
An ultimate threat
To higher grounds
That's why I chill
Deep unda the ground
(underground) sounds is digital
No humpty dumpty
Just keep my techs
On me they wanna push me
Near the wall
But I can't
Since I got *****
Sweat drippin' soakin' draws
Cuz the pressure
Made me an outlaw
Had no choice to but to
Bruise and cruise through
Enemies I
Put a slug and leave em plugged
Electric shock from the glock
I'm aimmin at head
over the hill's forreals
This ain't no shill so just chill
As I  **** like bill alley oop
A Dunk so you can feel
Led in yo head now ya dead bleed
Out
So that'll give ya something
To think about
No screams and shouts so


Hold on be strong hold on Be Strong
Hold on be strong Hold on be strong
I ain't gone never led you wrong
So hold on Be Strong
Cuz I ain't gone never led you wrong
So christen that **** yeah

Now that the raindrops stop
But the reign  didn't stop
Thought I was dead
But I rise like early sunshine
Roosters cluckin'
Got these demons tryna **** in
Me in my sleep
I shake the shells
Going crazy naw
Its just my mind get lazy
Or they purp that hazed me
Got keep it
True to Screws legacy hive
Bump out the jive
All the way live
In your stereo
Can't break me or make me
Into a mold
Hard to get a hold
Of something you
Can't touch can't clutch
I plot rhymes like
****** from Dutch
Shultz my lyrical occult
Shakin' fools at the wake
Stay baked takin' estates
Keep to body
Frosted as flakes no undertakes
We take
Everything from the hand
Never took a reprimand
Dodge minivans
Stacked with multiple
Ski mask quick to blast
Yo *** in the past
Now you in cask-et
Racked like bread in a bask-et
Led turn em into ac-id
tryna hold on
But ya soul long gone so

Hold on be strong hold on Be Strong
Hold on be strong Hold on be strong
I ain't gone never led you wrong
So hold on Be Strong
Cuz I ain't gone never led you wrong
So christen that **** yeah
Wolfgang Blacke Apr 2014
Eight legged man undertakes adventure, my skin crawls with him.
Winter is in swing and I am playing with snowflakes
Weather of my heart reminds me all innocent mistakes
My soul dangles and dances in the valleys and lakes
But my sweetheart your love undertakes and overtakes

Faithless weather reminds me my faithful sweetheart
When we decided to remain together and not depart
Together in the heart of heart but still we are pole apart
We have to celebrate lot of love but our life is too short

I tell to your image all odds ,trials and tribulations to face
Difficulties of life in bits and pieces from from place to place
How to keep up standard of love and how to hold grace
How real love takes beauty go hand in hand and pace to pace

Col Muhammad Khalid Khan
Copyright 2016 Golden Glow
Jamie L Cantore Jan 2016
"What does a fish know about the water in which he swims?"

"Before God we are equally wise and equally foolish."

Do you believe in immortality? "No, and one life is enough for me."

"God always takes the simplest way."

"I do not believe in the God of Theology who rewards good and punishes evil."

"God does not care about our mathematical difficulties, He integrates empirically."

"God does not play dice."

"God may be subtle, but he isn't malicious."

"I cannot imagine a God who rewards and punishes the objects of His creation and is but a reflection of human frailty."

"I want to know God's thoughts... the rest are details."

"It was the experience of mystery-even if mixed with fear-that engendered religion."

"Morality is of the highest importance, but for us, not for God."

"My religion consists of a humble admiration of the illimitable superior Spirit who reveals Himself in the slight details we are able to perceive with our frail and feeble mind."

"When the solution is simple, God is answering."

"Whoever undertakes to set himself up as a judge of Truth and Knowledge is shipwrecked by the laughter of the gods."

"Science without religion is lame; religion without Science is blind."

More available upon request...
Einstein was a Believer in God is my only point.
Matt Jan 2015
So a Christian who lives in this confidence toward God,
Knows all things,
Can do all things,
Undertakes all things that are to be done,
And does everything cheerfully and freely;
Not that he may gather many merits and good works,
But because it is a pleasure for him to please God thereby,
And he serves God purely for nothing,
Content that his service pleases God.

On the other hand,
He who is not at one with God,
Or doubts, hunts, and worries
In what way he may do enough and with
Many more works move God.

In summary
Just do what you can
Ultimately it is not our works
We all have all fallen short
Be content to serve God humbly when you can
It is only his Grace that saves us
JG O'Connor Jan 2019
What is this life experiment,
That we take without choice?
A tour through the material world.
Our spirit undertakes this journey,
Our soul experiences it.
We dream awake.
Some people have a great dream,
Which they fail to realise.
Others have no dream at all,
And fail to even fulfil that.
What we see is not what we see,
but who we are.
Picture this Aug 2018
Not from the cards do I my fortune pluck,
and yet my luck seems adequately sweet,
I seek a higher ground to reconstruct,
my self esteem is much less than complete.

Now should I turn to drink, and drown my sorrow,
roulette would keep me up until the dawn.
Would tranquillising bring a new tomorrow,
or should my fate decide which path I’m drawn.

For lately love has turned into decay,
and broken every vow it undertakes;
the only solace left is my bouquet,
red roses and selection of cream cakes.

When playing cards a win is always mine,
but love can be so fickle ev’ry time.
A Sonnet
Jessica Calvert Sep 2018
Tau of my lament, my sin--
or sins-- My head, my heart, my hand,
A bind on my waist and shadow
On my eyes, green or blue or brown,
I forget.

I forget the name of this one looking
Into the eye of Muhammed,
The small one and the strong one,
They were built with joy.
Are my desert and their desert
Filled with the same dry bones?
Here, says my mother, Eat.
I've forgotten, I say.
My sister brings me water
and saffron,
Wraps my hands in her hands,
Touches my hands to her heart.
Tau, she says, her thumb on
My head, my hand, my foot.
We know, we feel, we go.

The Naturalist poses for heaven,
And the rains fall,
Mothers give away
To new Mothers, superior
Gardens, dreams and visions
of our living one, our thirsting
Mater Dei-- behold your son!
Behold your mother!
The earth is at the same time, mother,
Tau-- the mother of all;
It is in this place of seeds and wind
That blood falls to ground,
Body fails-- tau-- all creation comes from it,
The verdant one, I forget her name,
She says, This God undertakes,
God gives.
Understandable dear reader,
     how this scribe bull lime
me bloke omitted mention of
     one bedroom flat as
reason nigh rote this rhyme

Ma faux pas faw axe pseudo dent lee
home hitting minor specific
     detail, minor crime
asper that subject, sans
     inspection against gritty grime,

and issuing citation
     if ***** sundry safety
     transgressions heron hot in Prime  
tip top order, whence
     (looming appointed date

     management undertakes
     requisite edifice complex inspection
     unwittingly doth find
     mine anxiety increasing ferret time
at Highland Manor
     Apartments twill make
their nada so merry go rounds!)

Dum...dum...dum...dum...DUH -
     anxiety shot thru stratosphere upon
     good news notification aboot
a fortnight from this last
     Friday of August tooth

     house sand date teen,
     rankling the body
     electric sans this "FAKE" ole coot
which panic stricken state
     (as iterated above),

     where quiet listening affected
     (with eyes shut wide)
     Mozart's The Magic Flute
hearing such melodic notes
     while lying sue

     pine versus sitting
     upon me comfort
     ably numb glute
if attuned to said renown composer,
     whose name familiar

     'round the world wide web,
     where his person posthumously
     rings up substantial loot,
yet such rambling moot,
when priority must first

     and foremost doth attend,
asper tidying up
     apartment, cuz inspection
     just around the bend
thus also a prayer would be

     appreciated (by this atheist)
     and/or juiced an email friend
e'en keeping limitation,
     i.e. sharing trained,
     unwavering, vaunted, wishing,

     yearning for zesty gerund
forming relationship to
     the maximum reciprocity,
     thee world wide web doth lend
no...no...no...NOT focused

     on anything greater,
     than heartfelt succor, asper
     tear riff hick
     genuine fantastic Earthling
     my darned cruel blimey

     soc erratic angst to mend,
though married, tis
     resplendent dear people
     scattered far and wide
courtesy of the internet,

     one can ride
upon the information
     super highway with pride
minus prejudice and
     trusty Google as guide,
perhaps...even fostering,
     kickstarting, and ushering
     online groom and/or bartered bride.
Mateuš Conrad May 2022
i think i have to places to visit...
based on the people i've met...
   friends of old are nothing compared
to the strangers i recently meet...

based on the fan-base of the Liverpool
football club:
i need to visit Liverpool...

why are the women, the girls, the women,
the girls... so much more beautiful:
wholesome up north...
compared with the stuck-up *******
of London?

they can come up to you...
kiss your cheeks... brush their cheeks against
your bearded cheeks...
i think i need to visit Liverpool...

and what is it with these Scoussers?!
even today this boy was playing a game with me...
tapping my left shoulder: i looked right...
he tapped my right shoulder: i looked left...

so i finally turned around...
he giggled... i giggled: long match...
isn't it? you're bored already?
it felt like a microcosm of my own childhood
where we used to play hide-and-seek...

i missed people: but i guess people also
missed me...
figuring out a bypass for a woman
with a broken leg to not have to sit in her designated
seat, but instead have a seat
in the disabled area...
went to the vendor of hotdogs...
grabbed a spare chair... blah blah...

if women weren't these scared does...
doe: plural does...
hugging... kissing... patting...
two Irish boys... one an Adam one...
older brother?
we were talking about the pharmaeutical
industry like it might be: the "industry"
of the undertakes...
we exchanged numbers...
we we supposed to drink till late because
i told them my birthday was today
yesterday...

            we finished the shift late...
my legs were killing me...
my back too...
     i'll send Adam a message of regrets
tomorrow...
next time you're in London...
or? i'll take your dialectic proof...
i won't visit Dublin...
i'll got all the way to Cork...

we both admired our admiration for Edinburgh...
i had to mediate the rude stewards...
******* ego-tripping on pseudo-authority...
it took three... before i was the fourth
and we took this
sick boy... to the toilet to freshen up...
i brought him extra water...
i suppose he managed to pull through...

people are great! as long as you can piece
together the ugliness in yourself
and present it with a veneer...
i'd love to work with children if i'm currently
working with adults behaving like children...

you play the game: i have no authority...
even though i'm technically supposed to be
a representing authority donning
a high-viz. vest...
   but i'm not an authority figure...
that's that game i play...
        i even tell them... but if it were
up to me... you could do whatever the hell
you want...

i need to visit Liverpool: find a wife...
or maybe Cork and too: find a wife...
    i can't be this much of myself by myself...
it would be so much fun to find a woman...
talk her into boredom:
talk her into death...
                  
but why the **** am i picking up numbers
from two Irish guys... to later go drinking?!
lovely guys... i even told them:
even though they wanted me to buy me a pint
and a steak & ale pie:
i wish... i wish i could be on your wavelength!
you know...

a sober person talking to a drunk person?
one of the brothers understood me...
one brother left the other to finish off his pint...
the one left said: well... he appreciates
football more than drinking...
me? i appreciate drinking more than football...
we giggled: because we shared the same sentiment...

i've been living so isolated for almost forever:
the impeding "predicament" of
the pandemic didn't really slow me down:
it just meant that people caught up to me...
or slowed down to my pace...
when people started to feeling longing...
isolated... i could be there: however i was all
there all along...
point being: the women didn't change...
the men changed...
now we can freely hug... we can shake hands...
we can talk...
brotherhood... ****** tension remained
however it always was to remain...
the same...

which is the sad part...
and... frankly? i'd rather a boy tease me... tapping me
on my shoulder... either side:
so i look the other way than a woman...
whatever a woman does...
with the number of prostitutes i've been with...
i'll visit one tomorrow... because it's my birthday
and i'm not about to feel special...

that's what's unbearable...
i'd chose feeling like a father everything time 100x
more times over
than feeling like Don Juan: a lover...
i'll drink this litre of ***** and think about
something fine...

i would chose being a father over being
the most successful lover: "almost": every... single time!
a ******* looks great in the mirror...
but?! a boy tapping your shoulder...
once to the left: you look right... huh?!
once to the right: you look left... huh?!

Hugh! stop it! you turn around and...
a bright sunshine of sunlight at sunset of a youth
is reigning over you...
no woman can equal: compensate that!
not with any amount of ***** ***!

because it comes across: so differently!
the masculine application of tenderness toward
a child: esp. a male child compared to
that toward a woman... a grown woman...

it's like chalk (die krupps - im schatten
der ringe) vs. cheese (SJÖBLOM -
brand new life);
i'm undecided... love for children or love for
women... ****** gratification
within the confines of women...
but absolutely no emotional impasse...
or with children: no ****** gratification
but not ****** impasse...

to be honest? i think children win me over...
i don't think i could be a polygamous *******:
the envy of a man among men...
even though tomorrow i think i'll
visit the brothel...

i need to visit Liverpool...
i think i need to visit western Ireland...
but...
    oh dear little ******.. if we're going to
be playing your game...
it needs to be HIDE & SEEK...
            i want to want to love women
more than i love children...
i don't think that's ever going to happen...
for the man's man... in me to be born:
children could never exist...

these ******* critters... these cute: additions
of the explanations of existence...
of the two song choices:
i always choose the sterner...
i do wish women were the answer:
they're most certainly "the truth":
but... between... truth, lie... question and answer?

what's most useful? the "truth" or the "answer"?
if woman is the truth... then who is the answer?
children!

       i love women: i love to **** them,
i love to pander them with flowers when they're
most unwilling...
but... if i were to chose between a child and a woman?
i'm tired of sexuality...
i'm more prone to parenthood...
   i'd be more hyped up being a father than some...
****...
  lover... ascribe...

i could cut off my phallus off...
turn it into a ******* oyster of a trans-gender
mentality...
i need: brains! i feed off brains!
let's play hide & seek... little fellah...
              
                it's a bit like witnessing a cat of Mein ****
sleeping peacefully in my bed...
i can have *** when i can "buy" it...
*** is *** is *** is not amusing...
             rigid muscular doctrines....
more *****! more *****!

at what point did it become apparent:
i'm more patriarch Abraham than....
Don Juan?!
          
      it's so refreshing when working with
children...
              it's so refreshing in that...
you could almost... solo project: Panzermensch them
into: doing "whar": but not feeling culprit!

because speaking any Deutsche is supposedly
**** spreschen... n'est ce pas?!

— The End —