1
Though still within our infancy,
we strive to thrive, but woefully
we flash and flaunt our 'primacy',
display our trophies pridefully.

Our terra firma ecstasy
destroys survival's harmony,
lays waste to life on land and sea.
Mankind, thy name is vanity!

By doubting Nature's regnancy,
defying laws with levity,
we strain our spheroid's symmetry
(perhaps a fatal fallacy?)

for, swallowed in the 'world of we',
we feed on vain insanity
with thoughts beyond eternity -
so strange when looked at mortally.

No use to seek a remedy
ensconced in ancient prophecy
for if not handled skillfully,
as clay we'll pay the penalty.

                              2
The Moguls rule with cruel decree,
control the crowds like puppetry,
pursuing greed addictively
with no accountability.

The wind, it reeks of Royalty
(awash in waves of perfidy)
while blowing ’cross the peasantry
(eclipsed in clouds of treachery).

The Queen, well steeped in snobbery,
sits, preening proud Her pedigree,
on throne of sculpted ebony
while sipping Sect immodestly;

to sate Her Regal Majesty,
a caviar clad canapé
is served with golden cutlery
by maidens bent submissively.

The King is bailed from bankruptcy
by Knaves who hoodwink artfully
the down-and-outer evictee
who wallows in their lenity.

Forsooth, the Money Monarchy
exalts the dollar dynasty
engaged in highway robbery
by Peacocks plumed in finery.

Yes, Jesters and the Fools agree
to truckle to duplicity
and laugh about it witlessly.
Long live the peon's penury!

                          3
To champion an oddity
(like two times twelve is fifty three)  
one reaches to theology
through paths of circularity.

In bygone trials of travesty
the doubters, draped in blasphemy,
endured the pain and agony
inflicted by the papacy.

Inspired by the Trinity
fanatics bent cosmology
in geocentric fantasy
while Bruno burned for heresy;

and aged women, randomly
accused of wicked witchery
by justice framed in infamy,
were racked and shown no clemency

That epoch of credulity
(when savants fostered sorcery
and practiced ancient alchemy)
arose in dark age quackery

as clerics dripping piety
(while raging, raving rabidly)
pervaded thralled society
with callous inhumanity;

'repent', they bellowed, 'verily,
forsake the world's iniquity,
live lives of want and chastity,
and give your gelt to God through me'.

                    4
The Masters make a mockery
of freedom and democracy
by holding down the uppity,
released from shackled slavery,

now fettered in a factory
else strewn across the Bowery,
still chained in bonds of bigotry,
immersed in seas of poverty.

And colliers, tapping balefully
in sunken-mine solemnity,
yet thrum a mournful monody
some call the digger's elegy.

To children, pale and raggedy
(behind a day of drudgery),
the boss man, oh so gallantly,
bestows a penny, niggardly;

though some are fed (belatedly),
their eyes recede in apathy
while bellies bulge, inflatedly,
with mothers watching, wretchedly.

When met with health adversity
or broken bone infirmity,
the pauper dangles helplessly
with no insurance policy;

and those engulfed in lunacy
are ailing blobs left floating free
in ******-dream obscurity -
a mired madhouse odyssey.

Ignoring mankind's unity,
the rich and poor dichotomy
breeds dismal doomed finality,
eventual nihility.

                        5
Renewing days of chivalry,
wild warriors fighting valiantly
bring freedom neath the gallows tree
while blending blood and burgundy

to toast the slaughtered enemy,
and so convince the colony
to cede with smile on bended knee
and yield her diamonds, silk and tea.

At first they call the cavalry
and then again the infantry,
so proudly primped in panoply,
with arms from finest armory

(embraced in hands so tenderly
bestow benign atrocity) -
and soon atomic weaponry
will extirpate posterity.

                          6
Misusing high technology
(to feed the face of gluttony)
depletes our Rock of energy,
now slowly dying thermally.

Our gadgets breathing CFC
fuel ozone holes' immensity
while cloud bursts, raining acidly,
wilt woods in their entirety,

and rivers, tainted chemically,
polluted biologically,
refill our cups methodically
and drown our souls organically.

Adjusting genes mechanically
may well blot out the bumble bee
annulling fruits' fecundity,
but brings big bucks reliably.

We wager perpetuity
to revel momentarily
in shadow-like obscurity
ignoring the futility,

but if we bet unknowingly
on fickle fate's contingency
and thereby act haphazardly
we're doomed to lose the lottery.

                 7
The modern day bureaucracy
abuses trust egregiously ,
embeds itself in obloquy
and offers no apology.

It paints the past in reverie
to camouflage the tendency
to strip away our privacy
which paves the path to tyranny.

With earlobes lurking furtively
that listen surreptitiously,
and eyeballs peering piercingly
we've lost cerebral sovereignty,

and those who dare to disagree
must hide away in secrecy
else crowd a black facility
(with water board anxiety).

                  8
Yes, sans responsibility,
our marble in this galaxy
will crumble in catastrophe
ere ever reaching puberty…

We did not come here on the orders of others
We came freely, our own choice, blown by the soft winds
scattered o'er many a mile
Landed upon Flanders Fields and rested a while

Then death came, disturbed the earth
Destruction hit the ground in which we slept so quietly
Awoke us from our slumber sweet
To witness tragedies and defeat

Now we are risen
and in our place beneath lie men and boys of courage, strong and true
Who fought valiantly but now lay slain
Our gentle roots entwine around their bodies that remain

Each dawn we wake for them and face the summer sun
At night our gaze doth meet moon
We stand tall and proud and dip our heads
And honour them that lie beneath with our petals red

Banned,
momentarily.
young, impetuous
stubborn and aware,
tac sharp, she merrily
swears all contraband.
trapped by parental snare
in her room of thoughts
she battles valiantly
with screaming demons,
playing cleverly,
her winning
hand.

What is the versatile autobiography
of this bountiful of rice
boiling in my American kitchen?

This crop of microscopic slabs of grain
that was the one edible source
of preventing my ancestors' emaciation

One of such few things
connecting me
to my roots,
those things I can't help but bleach
in whitewashed and rebellious peroxide.

I will valiantly hang my head down low in shame
at the examples of my flesh and earth,
"those National Geographic cavemen,"
all the time being the zoo animal,
being blindfolded and caged by
these "secular, American liberals."

I love this food
that I consume like a vacuum,
this merengue and bachata
that I so happily shake my *** to;
but nowhere did I sign up
for these commandments
that I was appointed
based on the location
that I popped out onto.

Working in an office with a lot of girls mainly
Suddenly it was that time of year again... Christmas
And the Office party it was looming
As I went toward the pub where we were having our gathering I was feeling nicely laid back and relaxed
Primarily because I'd just been to another pub beforehand and had a few quick scoops/ drinks
Now I was bolstered, all pumped up, I was like a Boxer ready to step into the Ring.

Our pub it was festooned with decorations, lovely colours and glittery things
They were hanging out of the ceiling and stuck on every wall
Above our table a big jovial Santa Claus
Looked down, beaming at us all
As I sat down one of the girls asked rather suspiciously "Where were you?"
Holding up my alibi, a little shopping bag with some items in it
I told her, lying beautifully of course,  that I had to go down the shop to get some things.
As I sat there I noticed the atmosphere was a bit subdued, people weren't talking much
I said to myself, this... this won't do
So I took it on myself to take the lead, I'd be the one to spread some Christmas cheer
So suddenly I blurted out "Wh..Wh..What does Santa say... after drinking a bottle of *** ?
"I don't know" they all said, "what does he say".
I paused a moment for dramatic effect...then I hit them with the punchline...he says "Yo ** **!"
They all looked at me blankly
You don't get it, Yo ** ** and a bottle of *** is the famous pirate song from Treasure Island
Santa's catchphrase is **!**!**!
He drinks the *** and suddenly it's Yo! **!**! (Jeez I thought, I got to explain my own jokes)
Still there not impressed, one shakes her head, another raises her eyes to the heavens, another comments "A silly joke"
But really I don't care, I say to them
I suppose you don't want to hear my Snowman joke then
"O Go on", they say, "get it over with"
It's a bit risque I warned them
What do you call a Snowman... standing outside the window of a Brothel ?
"A hot Frosty", someone said
No! ... The Abominable Snowman.

I say to myself, well at least I tried, I made an effort
I done my bit, now I can sit here quietly for the rest of the evening
Some of the girls have now started to talk amongst themselves
One girl sitting right next to me who I hadn't spoken to in awhile
She suddenly inquires after my wellbeing, she asks"How are you?"
I tell her O! You know me, I'm just... just hanging on in there, yea! just hanging on to the Ledge of Life by my fingertips trying not to look down at all the crocodiles circling below
"Things aren't that bad, are they?" she says a little concerned
I smile and say Well I might be exaggerating there... a little bit
She smiles and offers "You're a real Drama Queen".

Suddenly one of the girls announces that she's done an evening course during the Autumn, she's done Bellydancing of all things
I thought we'll have to get her to give us a demonstration later on (but not before dinner LoL)
This girl then starts asking everyone did they do any courses and what their hobbies were
Finally she comes to me and I say Well I've been making some music on this little keyboard I have, yea! I've been playing...I've been playing around with my *****
(this gets some laughs)
I go on, Actually I've been writing a song
"Writing a Song!" says one of the girls really impressed, "we know you write stories, now you're writing songs, my! you are talented.  What's it about, your song ?"
I tell her it's about a girlfriend whose... well she's a bit of a Goldigger,
Then I smile, I have a great title for it, I call it (I pause for a moment then I say proudly), I call it...Octopus of Love.
"Octopus of Love!!" says one of them dismissively, "what kind of name is that for a song.  There should be a Society for Prevention of Cruelty to songs"
I ignore her and then suddenly launch into a verse of the song

     She said she was a dove
     But she's my Octopus of Love
     A hundred hands in search of one thing
          only
     Yea! My wallet, my Pride and glory.

     When she whispers in my ear
     Her fingertips they tiptoe across my rear
           and into my back pocket  
      O! She's my Octopus of Love
      She"s not at all what I dreamed of.

     When I hold her in my arms
     She sets off all my alarms
     She tells these great big whopping lies
     Man! She's got a finger in all my pies.

    She said she loves me dearly
    Visiting the most expensive shops
    Buying the most expensive gear
    I say, could you not make it more cheaply instead,

  O! She's got me in her grasp
   Her tentacles they hold me fast
   Then she asks what's all the fuss
   And she's so innocent looking
   Man! She's a lovely Octopus.

"I wouldn't be giving up the day job just yet" says one of the girls,
"That's funny" says another
Then someone ups and says "Tell us another one of your little stories",
"A good one, this time!" adds another
"Yea! A good one! We need a good laugh" says another,
I feel a bit slighted by this for some reason, the way they say it, their attitude
It's like their making light of my Art, my labours, my great works
Like their just bits of fluff for their titillation
So suddenly my mood it darkens and my voice it takes on this ominous ring and then I say a little threateningly
"So you want to hear a good one, do you!"
With this I smile and then say menacingly"I'll give you a good one"
Then I look at them slowly one by one
And it's almost like I've gone into this trance state, switched into ghostly mode
A distant remote look comes into my eyes
It's like I'm looking through them into the far distance somewhere...  
And then suddenly I intone real solemn like and with great gravitas
"The Great American Novel!"

"What's that?", asks one of the girls
Now most of the girls are married Moms with kids
They wouldn't have gone to college, they would have gone straight into work after school
So they probably wouldn't have known about English literature and  the Classics and all that high brow kind of stuff
Their only exposure to literature would probably be the so called Chicklit books down their local supermarket,
So I say to them 'You never heard of the Great American Novel'
"No!" says one of the girls, "what is it?"
Well, I start to explain, it's like the Holy Grail for all writers, novel writers anyway
How can I explain...how can I put it... The Great American Novel...
It's like this amazing fantastic legendary mythical beast of such great beauty and magnificence
That roams free and unfettered on the literary plains of a writer's imagination,
Many an author on his death bed admits, "I seen it once, I had it in my sights...had it in my grasp but I let it get away". They then turn their heads away and cry bitter tears of regret...
Or...or it's like... it's like this Great Mountain
that's no one's ever been able to climb
It stands there defiantly, supreme in its isolation, it's peak glistening in the sunlight or shimmering in the moonlight
Unreachable, unattainable... unconquerable
(I'm really on a roll now, I'm waxing lyrical and there's no stopping me)
The Great American Novel...it's like... y'know it's like that old fairytale, what was it called
Was it Snow White. No! Snow White had the dwarves in it
What was the other one?
One of the girls whose always been a bit negative, she suddenly says rather unhelpfully
"It wasn't Pinocchio was it?"
Of course I get her reference, when Pinocchio would tell tall tales his nose would grow longer
Then I point to her and say rather surprisingly "That's it!! Sleeping Beauty!" Remember Sleeping Beauty
The King and Queen have a beautiful baby daughter
At the christening all the good fairies come and bestow Blessings on the child
She'll be the most beautiful
She'll be warm and kind and generous
She'll have a lovely heart
She'll be so wise and so artistic...
Then suddenly who should arrive but the Wicked Fairy
She wasn't even invited to the ceremony and she's really angry
She storms into the Palace right up to the child
Then she says "When this Beauty, this Child grows up she will have an accident"
It's like The Great American Novel is the Beauty, the Child
And it's like she's saying "This Beauty no one shall have, no one shall ever write The Great American Novel"
And of course, when the child grows up she's so wonderful and so amazing
But then she has this accident and falls into this strange deep deep sleep
And everyone in the castle too, they also fall asleep,
And suddenly this big thicket of dense thorns springs up around the castle so no one can enter it
Many a brave young man having heard of the Great Beauty behind the Wall of Thorns
They valiantly try to get to her but are invariably driven back by the thorns
Alas! They fail and gradually the story of the Great Beauty passes into legend.....
That is till one day, a Knight appears, a Knight so noble and pure of heart
The moment the blade of his sword touches the Wall of Thorns
A path opens up right through the thorns leading to the castle
He finds everybody there fast asleep
He climbs the Tower and finds in her chamber this incredible Beauty sleeping
He is so taken with her that he must kiss her on her lips
In that moment her eyes they open and she smiles a radiant smile. And the whole world awakens again, comes alive.

I look around at all the girls, their all a bit spellbound by my story (at least I like to think)
I go on 'It's like I was walking in my mind one evening, seeking some inspiration
And then I just turn a corner and there he is, in all his glorious splendour
Remember your Greek myths, the fabulous white winged horse... Pegasus... this beautiful mythical beast
Just there drinking at a pool right in front of me,
So quietly I sneak up on him and then suddenly I jump up onto his back
He rears up and then spreads his mighty wings
And starts to rise way above the earth
My eyes they are suddenly opened, and I see what I had not seen before....
I look at the girls but then just as before, a strange dark look comes over my face and I say
" I'm really afraid but I think, I think I've done it
I think I've nailed it
Yea! ... I think I've written The Great American Novel.

I go on 'Yknow  whenever a new book comes out the Critics, they all wonder
Will this be the One, will this at last be The Great American Novel
Of course, their always disappointed, the candidates they all fall short
It was a good try but...but not quite
A valiant effort, maybe next time
In the Critics Room one of them will be given my book to read
Slowly as he reads, his eyes will grow wider
And his jaw will start to drop in awe
When he finishes he'll sit there in his chair stunned, almost like he's been shellshocked
Then he'll rise unsteadily  with his finger pointing at the book
He'll be stuttering and stammering
"What's wrong!", people will inquire of him
He'll look at them in a mad crazy way
"My eyes... my eyes they've seen it" he'll say
"Seen what?" they'll ask
"It...it... it's The Great American Novel.
They'll all stand up and gather around the Book
Suddenly someone will grab a pair of binoculars and look up at The Great, the Holy Mountain
And there on the top, on the summit
There'll be a lone figure standing with his little Irish flag
"Truly he is the One", they'll say, "and a feckin' Irishman, wouldn't you know".

"So what's it about then", asks one of the girls interrupting my flow
What!', I say
"The Novel! What's it about"
I look at her and then I smile and say rather mysteriously 'Well, that's another story isn't it'.
"Wait a minute", says the girl whose usually very negative, "so the valiant Knight with the noble heart, that's supposed to be you is it ?
I raise my hands innocently as if to say what can I do
"O! I think I'm going to be sick", she says. Then she continues "Where did you get the time to write a Novel anyway. All the time we thought you were working you were probably just there daydreaming over in the corner".
"It's not very long", I say to her "my story".
"How long is it ?", she asks curiously
"Actually it's only about ten or eleven pages".
"What! Ten or eleven pages!!!", she says jumping on this with exaggerated disgust, "that's not a Novel, it might be a short story but it's certainly not a Novel. For it to be a Novel it has to be several hundred pages long ".
I tell her But 'I didn't need a few hundred pages just ten or eleven was enough, it's all there, the whole thing'.
"But it's not a Novel", she maintains
I answer, it's the spirit of the thing that matters, the Spirit!
She then gathers herself and I can feel an offensive coming
"I don't want to rain on your Parade", she begins, "but One you're not American, Two it's not even a Novel, and Third if it's anything like your song I for one won't be holding my breath".
I look at her a bit crestfallen and then I say
"You really like to burst my balloon don't you" , then I say, "I'm reminded of the classic lines of W.B.Yeats the great Irish poet
And then I declaim theatrically
"And Great Art... beaten down".

Anyway now the spotlight moves away from me, the girls start talking among themselves
"Let's leave him to his delusions", one says and now our meals are starting to arrive, I'm forgotten about for awhile.
For some reason the word "Parade' has stuck in my mind
And the pub has suddenly grown more boisterous, some people are singing and blowing whistles (those paper things that roll out and then roll back in again) their throwing streamers and confetti about
Suddenly I'm reminded of those old ticker tape parades they used to have over in New York when they'd be celebrating something or someone
All the faces looking out the windows of the skyscrapers and all the streamers cascading down, and the cheering crowds
And up on a big Podium there standing, the President himself.
I look up at the wall at Santa Claus smiling back at me
And I say to myself "Hello Mister President"
I can see him welcoming me up onto the podium, then with his hands he quietens the  crowds... and then...then he speaks
"Fellow Americans, we've waited a long time for this day
Many thought I'm sure that it would never come but some...some still dared to believe Yea! That one day a man would appear and that a Book would be born"
(holding up the Book) I give you the Book
It may be a slim volume
But don't let that fool you
Sometimes good things come in small packages...
Yes! I give you the Book,
The Great American Novel!!!
And I give you... the Man (motioning to me)
"He told it like no one else could, he said it like no one else could say it
Let the bells ring out across the land, in every city and town...in celebration"
So sitting there I raised my glass to Santa Claus smiling on the wall
And said quietly and secretly to myself
"Here's to you Mr. President, Merry Christmas!

I
There once was a boy who lost his smile
His name was Colin Trench, born evil & vile
A pale-skinned young lad, tall, wide-eyed and frail
His ashen hair quite unkempt, but sometimes he puts it in a pony-tail
Always dressed in a proper black suit, bow tie & all
"It makes me look more evil" says he, standing proud and tall
He lived in a dark & dingy tower up on Dreadful Hills
Where birds refuse to sing and a mere glimpse would give anyone chills
His only consort is a cat named Lacrimose, vile & evil as he
Both love the taste of ginger bread, strawberry ale & rose tea

II
One dreary morning in November when Colin woke
He realized that he missed his smile, lost since he was a little bloke
He stepped out of his room and summoned his loyal cat
"O Lacrimose" he said, "Today we will find where my smile is at!"
They began searching the tower, high & low, left & right
"It's just around here somewhere" he whispered, "I probably lost it in the dead of night"
They pulled out old drawers, empty cupboards & dusty cabinets
But all they found were cobwebs, memorabilia & broken trinkets
"Ah Lacrimose!" shouted Colin, "Look what I found here!"
"This wind-up jumping frog was given to me by mother dear!"
They searched behind the curtains, under the bed and beneath the sheets
But all they found was another toy, a little black bird that tweets
"This little bird" he remembered, "I gave it a name"
"Ah yes, it's Horus and hide & seek was her favorite game."
He put both toys in his pocket and continued searching, never giving up
Colin & Lacrimose were determined to find the lost smile before the sun was up

III
They left the bedroom floor and down the basement they went
A dark & sinister place with walls of chipped cement
Colin turned the light on and a rusty typewriter is what they saw
“This clunky old machine” he said, “used to leave me in absolute awe.”
Pointing at the corner, he went on, “This is where father used to write”
“He read to me his wonderful adventures much to my delight.”
“Let’s go to the attic” he told Lacrimose with a sigh
“There’s nothing left to see here but half-written stories & goodbyes.”
So up the attic they went, but as they entered the floor began to creek
“This won’t take long, Lacrimose” he assured the cat, “We’re just going to have a little peek.”
“The last time I went up here” he recalled, “I was a little boy aged 7.”
“It was that fateful day I was told that my loving parents went to heaven.”
He looked at Lacrimose feeling somber as ever
And noticed his cat nibbling on what seems to be an old letter:
“Colin, our dear son” he read out loud, “We love you with all our hearts.
We’re sorry we had to leave you, in the morning we must part.
The choice is not ours to make, we have to fight for our country.
We’ll be home after the war is over, just in time for your birthday party.”

IV
As he held the letter in his hand, he sat on the floor and started to weep
His parents’ death he tried to forget, in his heart he buried it deep
“A few months after receiving this letter” Colin remembered completely,
“3 men in military uniforms informed me that my parents died valiantly.”
“They never made it to my 7th birthday, I had no reason to celebrate.”
“In my heart there used to be joy & love, but since that moment I replaced it with hate.”
And the days after that, Colin not once did cry
But today was different, he knew it was time to say goodbye
He went down the attic and walked to the garden behind the tower
Carrying with him Lacrimose, he picked up a tiny little flower
He approached his parents’ final resting place with hardly an upward glance
Colin yearned for forgiveness and this was his perfect chance

V
From his pocket he pulled out the wind-up frog & Horus, the little black bird
Along with the letter found in the attic and without saying a word
He neatly placed the items on the ground with the tiny flower on the side
Today Colin learned about acceptance; there is nothing left to hide
He began to speak and this is what he had to say:
“Forgive me mother & father, but your passing has left me in complete disarray.”
He kneeled on the ground and cried like he never did before
Tears streamed down his face and it didn’t stop ‘till his eyes were sore
His hands were shaking as he covered his face
He never did forget the loss he tried so hard to erase
As soon as he stood up and slowly opened his eyes
He saw on the horizon a beautiful & magnificent sunrise
Stepping through the field, wiping his tears away
To his loyal companion he said: “From now on we will have better days.”
“Lacrimose, my dear friend, we shall no longer be evil & vile”
Ah, it is a great day indeed for Colin Trench began to smile.

There once was a pond off the Astrillian shore,
Where a billion clams lay underwater, they snored,
Day after day, tides change to tides,
Yet the life of a clam is still quite a bore.

Until one day an otter, all spryly and nimble,
A prince from the infamous pool down the thimble,
Crossed the old straight with his men through mud and through wimble.

Valiantly striding his conquest was simple,
Representing his people in search of a love life to kindle.
He was quirky, and boisterous, and hard to ignore,

Splashing and thrashing about the good peoples shore,
A good lookin' pup, he swam round in circles,
Converting the Astrillian Algaeans to Murkles.

The clams weren't slow to catch on to the show,
For clams are very attentive you know,
And soon by council & seminar they mouth-fulled their garbles,

"Who yonder this monkey that endlessly wharbles?"
"Are you daft kind sirs?" asks one clam as she snarbles,
"It seems you old men have lost all your marbles,

That is the otter, his highness all the way from Port Schwarble!
He only plays cowbell, throws barbells, and a million such marvels,
It's an Astrillian holiday as far as I yarble, hmm"

She stops,
It's indeed very clear she's been pinned as kalopsious,

"My dear" one clammy clam-clam firmly speaks,
"I see your 'kidz-bop' as they say has given you gleecks,
Your highness, is an otter, we'll be extinct within weeks"

The elders agree and farble on lke sheep,
"The end is near!" the little ones squeak,

But none brave as Mandy,
This little clam candy,
Would even think that moving was handy,

Why, confronting a prince sounds totally dandy,
So she pipped and she chupped,
Getting the elders all sandy.

As she made her way up to her prince, who was also quite randy.
Approaching her man of a million wonders,
She squeaked a fine hello over his rambunctious thunder.

He stopped and observed,
"What is this, hors' doeurves?"
He plucked her and licked her, obviously deterred,

When she snarbled and blushed ignoring the blunder,
"My name is Mandy the First, from the land of down under,

She smiled as he turned to his squire,
"A fine maiden to invite to the royal dinner," laughing they snired.
"I caught wind of your plans to marry" she twinkled,
"I just thought that I'd say that I'm young and I'm single,"

And with a wink she gave off her lady like signal.
The squire scoffed at the lady so simple,
"May I remind you ma'am, this is the prince from the pool down the thimble.
He's come all this way through mud and through wimble,
In search of a maiden to love and ne'er let dwindle,
Yet this peasant clam reminds me of a fire in my belly, so long ago kindled,"

He snirped, Mandy quirped as the prince caressed her dimple,
"You'll not lay your paws on her or her people,
This girl is totally braver than you and our sheeple!
It is decided that I'll be bringing her all the way to the steeple."

The squire grumbled a pox on both sides,
"You princox, we haven't eaten since Ides,
If you really cared so much for your lady,
Then let us first feast on her friends and their babies,
For what is a wedding if we're all riddled with hunger and rabies?"

"Nay squire, for you are a bigger one,
Your princoxious gluttony far exceeds the range of the Astrillian Sun"
"Ooooooooohh!!" his guards hollered and bothered, oh but he wasn't done,

"If you really care for your stomach all the sudden,
Then come at me brother, make me your wet monkey mutton.
See if I care for your metabolic process, you square,
For nothing could separate me from my princess so fair."

And so they charged and they barged and splashed all about her,
As his guards cheered them on into brotherly slaughter,
Witnessing the madness, Mandy would rather be chowder.

As she quietly wept for her hunk of an otter,
She noticed the elders behind her surface the water.
"What do you want?!" snobbing she totally snared,

The elders snooted and bitterly declared,

"We warned you," they flarbed,
"Their kind is brutish and dull," they spat from afar,
"The feud between peoples is older than tar"

Mandy flushed beet red and crying she clacked,
"Your ignorance prevails clams, for that is your only knack,
This man loves me and I love him right back,
In fact he's saving us all from becoming a snack.
And if he succeeds I'll never see you again,

I'll never work your sand-bars, or attend colleges of mermen.
I'll never sing songs or clean up your dens,
And you'll all just be grumpy old clams forever, and then,
When I am queen I will not be so mean.

I will unite all the clamsfolk with our predators keen,
We shall not be afraid and they shall not come to prey,
And who knows maybe we'll all get along someday,"

And with that, the squire cried "Uncle!"
And the prince let go of his sleeper-hold struggle,

"Now will you praise your lady you poor jester thuggle?"
"I do, I do your highness, til death I shall juggle."
And so the otters and clams conjoined the whole island,

With only some leftover haters to beguile,
And within seven days time
People gave up on fear,

Threw out their hunger,
And then it became clear,
With only time left to ponder,

As the big day came near,
At the cathedral they concluded that love lasts much longer,
That really,

Whether one be a clam or an otter,
It is only together that we shall become stronger.

What was it like?
The fight?
Well I’d say it was like…
Eowyn valiantly facing off with the Witch King
It was like Obi Wan flinging droids around with the flick of his hand
It was like saying “Hi” to Scarface’s friends
It was like the feeling Shrek got when he saved Fiona
It was like the moment when we first realize Scar will betray Mufasa
It was like watching the Joker toy with Batman’s head
It was like watching King Leonidas **** Persians in slow motion
It was like John McClane actually dying
It was like the green burst of light from Voldemort’s wand
It was like…
It was like…
It was like ******* off the Don on the day of his daughter’s wedding subsequently forcing the Don to leave a horse head in your bed.
Woah dude, that’s too far. The fight between Timmy and Johnny at recess was not like that.

I'm sick of trying to deflect every line of my predetermined fate
I've gotta close my eyes, say my goodbyes
Fall to the ground and let my bones break.

Well, hell my skull has cracked.
The brains I once contained are a mess and they seem to be less
than what I had expected.
I suppose when I let go I didn't know
that my thoughts would be completely exposed and be utterly known.

My soul is on the line
because my body is bare and naked
showing the monster inside that I have created.
Something I have worked hard to keep so secret
is exposed to the sun and it
darkens the air with the breath that I left
to be swallowed up by my sigh.
Well it's no longer time to lie.
I've gotta come clean, wipe away all that is unseen.
I have fought valiantly but I have lost and now I'm paying a terrible cost.

I'm a fool for staying hidden
when all it wanted was an intermission with a decision.
To rip out my heart and feed it to the dark.
Instead I ignored it.
And now it's eating away all the love that I once felt, all the compliments I have dealt.
Well, help me save them from this monster I have created.
But how can I **** it? When the villain is me.

My eyes are opened with a snap when I hear the footsteps coming back.
Am I really the only one to blame?
Could I have saved all those lives; women and children?

But oh their blood is stained and etched into my skin.
Imprinted, forever, glued like a tattoo.
This monster I have become is breaking through.

How can I destroy the evil that sits so deep inside
when my mind controls both thoughts, pure and putrid?
My mind is failing,
My body falling,
My mind stalling.

I know the truth.
I know what I must do in order to save those I love.
I must **** what I am becoming.

I'm afraid there is only one way.
We both know that I can no longer stay
I must take my final bow
and bite the bullet,
swallow the pills,
snap my neck,
slice my throat,
stab my heart,
and say goodbye
because it's my time.

When future catches past
In Japan’s last stance.
When the future seems cast
The last warriors take a chance.
They advance with strange valour,
Toward impending Death
Outnumbered and Outgunned
Surrounded – Sixty to one

Within a flash, or even a glance
Reduced to forty, they still advance.
They fight valiantly, But for what cause?

They rather suicide over capture,
And even in death,
Their eyes gleam with rapture.

To the last sword
For the last drop
Till the last scream
Till the flag falls
Till no guns speak
And no man seeks
On that hill he did die
That last Samurai.

Today I met a novelist...
But how good of a man he is
To call himself an "atheist"?

A story he told, bout'
A man who valiantly fought
The enemy of one's own thought.
And as the novel unfolds,
I saw the Lord, our God
In every word, in every form
In every smile he paints the world.

And so maybe, the one who claims: "I'm an atheist"
Forever marks themselves a "God seeker"
Who's faith could someday own the world.

For their guarded piece of sorrow.

As you progress through life and spend your days lustfully longing at the life of the strong and steady sunflower you come to realize that you - the clean and quiet wallflower, crawling around the corners - will always dull in comparison to the shining petals of a rare seasonal plant.

You will never know for certain if this is just the way things are - for you receive fleeting moments of worth when you are watered. You will never know for certain if the water truly loved you, if the rain that rejuvenated your purple skin and awakened you even in the most hidden of places really ever cared.

You will never know for certain if the water truly wanted you to blossom, or if the water was just lightly sprinkling you with enough life so that, when the spring came again, you could resume your dutiful place as the backdrop against which the sunflowers shine.

Nobody doubts that all flowers are beautiful, but nobody regards all flowers as equal. You will never be a sunflower, for that is just not the type of seed that you are. Whilst there is nothing outwardly wrong with not being a sunflower, their warm open leaves and their throne in the centre of the flowerbed seem to leave little room or sunlight for others to flourish.

You don't doubt that the water would miss you terribly if you disappeared into the ground, but you spend your shaded days wondering whether this is because you truly are important, or because their sunflower would not look so regal were it not for your purple misfortune.

As all the purple plants disappeared last winter, as the first frost drained their final ounces of water induced hope, I felt my heart dip in the knowledge that they'd be back again in spring, valiantly pushing themselves from the deep dark soil in vain and desperate hope. I chewed my lip on the thought that their frugal and consistent efforts would never be appreciated, for no matter how long they deigned to stay in the dark, there would never come a spring where they would transform into the sunflower.

And as I turned from the five by four foot flowerbed, I thought about all of the sunflowers I had met in my life, and all of the backdrops I had provided for them. I thought about how sore it was to be the sibling that made the other sibling shine brighter, the student that made the other students seem smarter, the girlfriend that made the other girls seem... yellow.

And I looked at myself, and I thought about how nobody's favourite colour is purple.

What is the number one cause of major depression?
Death of a parent before the age of ten.
A youtube video told me that.
Which means I'm ******.
My dad died when I was 5.
Leukemia.
He had fought valiantly for years.
And when they thought it was gone it came back.
That was 15 years ago.
I still miss him.
I wrote this for him.
I always will love him.

Fight valiantly,
My friend
With all your
Grace
Fury
Power
Because this place
It needs you
So desperately
It aches for your presence

So, my friend
Fight valiantly
With courage
Against the
Faceless enemy
Who seeks to crush you
To own you

You are worth more than you know
You are worth the life of the Universe
You have not lost more than
You have to gain

My beautiful friend,
Be kind to your vessel
Take care of it
For it belongs to you while you reside here
In this fallen place
Don’t hate your spirit
For your vessel’s flaws
For they are so temporary
They are nothing

Friend,
Please, I’m begging you now
Fight valiantly
Because you belong here
There is a purpose for your
Existence
And you are loved more than you
Can even fathom

Please, friend

You are valiant.

She comes forth
like waves slipping over
the sand
again and again
delivered from darkness
coveting the light

And light is her signature.
A conundrum.
Light erasing light.
How can this be?

I will tell you.

Light is the companion
of the dark
trips joyfully in its shadows

And this dance
weaves a potent tale
of a two-faced goddess
one face peering intently into the dark
one lit by the morning sun

Yet darkness rules the day
hastens the twilight
gives measure to the
dimming
and finally
captures the last of the light
in a sea green bottle

We are drawn into that night
valiantly
or not
weeping for lost opportunities
or not
but at the end
waltzing into the unknown

Yet I do not suppose
darkness without light
according to my theology
a life that ends in simple extinction
cannot be
it is a null set

The fundamental equations
do not permit it
nor can my simple mind
fathom such depths

So in my dotage
I repair to wine and song
to ease the pain
of these uncertainties
and then to poetry
to catalog the human condition
and leave a trace
that yet might sparkle
in the instant of my demise

The night was passing, and the Grecian host
By no means sought to issue forth unseen.
But when indeed the day with her white steeds
Held all the earth, resplendent to behold,
First from the Greeks the loud-resounding din
Of song triumphant came; and shrill at once
Echo responded from the island rock.
Then upon all barbarians terror fell,
Thus disappointed; for not as for flight
The Hellenes sang the holy pæan then,
But setting forth to battle valiantly.
The bugle with its note inflamed them all;
And straightway with the dip of plashing oars
They smote the deep sea water at command,
And quickly all were plainly to be seen.
Their right wing first in orderly array
Led on, and second all the armament
Followed them forth; and meanwhile there was heard
A mighty shout: "Come, O ye sons of Greeks,
Make free your country, make your children free,
Your wives, and fanes of your ancestral gods,
And your sires' tombs! For all we now contend!"
And from our side the rush of Persian speech
Replied. No longer might the crisis wait.
At once ship smote on ship with brazen beak;
A vessel of the Greeks began the attack,
Crushing the stem of a Phoenician ship.
Each on a different vessel turned its prow.
At first the current of the Persian host
Withstood; but when within the strait the throng
Of ships was gathered, and they could not aid
Each other, but by their own brazen bows
Were struck, they shattered all our naval host.
The Grecian vessels not unskillfully
Were smiting round about; the hulls of ships
Were overset; the sea was hid from sight,
Covered with wreckage and the death of men;
The reefs and headlands were with corpses filled,
And in disordered flight each ship was rowed,
As many as were of the Persian host.
But they, like tunnies or some shoal of fish,
With broken oars and fragments of the wrecks
Struck us and clove us; and at once a cry
Of lamentation filled the briny sea,
Till the black darkness' eye did rescue us.
The number of our griefs, not though ten days
I talked together, could I fully tell;
But this know well, that never in one day
Perished so great a multitude of men.

A perfect man for me was never moulded by a box,
A box that screamed multitude of labels
To satiate the chaotic minds of society,
A belonging judged by feudality, no rhyme or reason required or questioned.

A perfect man for me was never measured by material things,
He gives abundantly by just being around,
An illuminating source of comfort on the other end listening,
Empathising and leaving a trail of laughter that makes me fall even deeper.

A perfect man for me was never masked crusader (okay, maybe Batman sometimes),
He is maskless for the world to bask in his genuity,
No bounds or limitations set on his acts of kindness and love,
Selfless and generous with his time, blind to any creed or pedigree.

A perfect man for me was never one to run away from problems,
Valiantly facing the raging bulls head on,
Inner strength personified by his poise and determination,
"I will get through this unscathed and no one will stop me".

A perfect man for me was never an owner of a cold crackled heart,
Headstrong, gallantly keeps the family together in a bind of unconditional love,
Lovingly adores his sunshine, making sure she knows she is loved with the same fervour,
Day in and day out, void of complains and pettiness, as the world turns.

A perfect man for me was never perfect,
Owning up to his flaws and shortcomings and being aware of mine,
A cycle that is never vicious but one that is laced with acceptance and non-judgments,
He inspires the best version of myself as he aspires to better himself.

A perfect man for me spells Y-O-U,
And the way that you are is exactly how I love Y-O-U.

Shalini Nayar
24.11.14
(C) 2014

You were the rebel, the prisoner, the fighter for a people without rights,
a people who fought valiantly and with hopes and visions of equality.

Such a pity, the greater population of the world lived in ignorance
and denial of the existence of the endless fight and plight of a people.

War in the streets, the blood and bodies of men, women and children
was common sight witnessed and price paid to gain basic rights of human.

After over a quarter of a century and pressures building to gain your freedom;
unconditionally, you arose like the phoenix and emerged to greet sunlight.  

A continuing mission of freedom and liberation of a people oppressed,
remained upper most in the heart and mind of one who would not rest.

You emerged from the darkness, seeing the walls of apartheid standing,
standing strong against your beliefs and be architect of it's destruction.

Who could foresee that the island with bars housing a man with resolve
would foster a journey of a prisoner to wise and great leader of a people?

OH, Give thanks to thy LORD, for Thou Is Good! For His Mercy Endures Forever. Let Israel now say, His Mercy  Endures Forever'' Let thy House Aaron now say, His Mercy Endures Forever'' Let those who Fear thy LORD now say'' His Mercy Endureth Forever.... We called on the LORD in Distress; thy LORD answered Us and Set Us in A Broad Place. The LORD is on Our Side; We will not Fear what Man do to Us? Thy LORD is for Us among hose who Help Us, therefore We shall see Our Desire on those who Hate Us. It is Better to Trust in the LORD than to put Confidence in Man. It is Better to Trust in thy LORD than to put Confidence in Princes.... All Nations surrounded Us, but in thy Name Of thy LORD We will Destroy them. They surrounded Us, Yes, they surrounded Us, but in the Name Of The LORD We will Destroy them.. They surrounded Us like Bees; they were Quenched like AFire of thorns, for in the Name Of Thou LORD We will Desroy them.... You pushed us Violently, that We Might Fall, but thy LORD Helped Us... The LORD Is Our Strength and Song, and He has become Our Salvation.. The Voice Of Rejoicing and Salvation is in the Tents Of The Righteous* the Righ Hand Of The LORD does Valiantly.. The Right Hand Of He LORD Is Exalted, The Right Hand Of The LORD does Valiantly.! We Shall Not Die, but Live and Declare the Works and Walks Of The LORD Our GOD.. The LORD has Chastened Us Severely, bu He has not given Us over to Death.. Open to Us thy Gates Of Righteouness Oh LORD Our GOD'' We will Praise The LORD.. This is thy Gate Of The LORD, through Which thy Righteous shall Enter.. We will Praise YOU, for YOU have Answered Us and have Become Our Salvation...... The Stone which the Builders Rejected has Become Thy Chief Cornerstone... This was thy LORD's doing, It is Marvelous in Our Eyes.... This is thy Day the LORD has Made, We will Rejoice and Be Glad in it.. Save now, we Prayed O LORD; O LORDN we Prayed, Send now Prosperity... Blessed is He who cmes in thy Nme Of The LORD! We have Blessed You from the House of the LORD.. GOD is the LORD, ad He hs given Us Light; Bind the Sacrifice with Cords to the Horns Of Thy Altar.. You are Our GOD, and We will Praise You; You are Our GOD, We will Exalt THEE..... Oh Give Thanks to thy LORD, for HE Is Good.! For His Mercy Endures Forever.!

you should appreciate your little victories
i do

for example today,
i conquered my telephone-phobia

if only you could see
my hands
valiantly reaching
to
call
off
that
dentist
appointment

So valiantly did he die upon a little hill
Of greenest grass and under sweetest air,
And he died grinning for his unfailing will,
And for what eternal glory met him there-

And his courageous heroism will be told
In song by each new coming generation
Who still sing those fighting songs of old
Within our proud and glorious nation-

What true sacrifice and supreme nobility
Lies in he who serves our shining vision
Where everyone else can grow up to be
Just like him, perhaps be on television-

Because he believed in his bleeding heart
What it means to die for where you live,
If he had one regret, and was let to restart-
It'd be that he hadn't another life to give.

Preponderance gifts so weighty costly in this regard the truly hard part to step forth and be
Truly you because others are so important you give beyond price achingly so their glory is
Bestowing in them the undertow real life crushing all pretense gone triviality what airiness
Weightless worthless what times when compassion diligence of thought buys unheard of
Pasture lands fields black soil you stir up the deepest regard you exhaustively search your soul
And find seeds that are worthy for the planting it will flourish golden grain that is beholding
They will lift their eyes see the swaying harvest an all knowing concentration will grip them I
Have left the common the austere will cause a shaking a piercing knowing this is an open heart
Speaking giving how we yearn for such times here is the opportunity to sink our most tender
Thoughts deep the entanglements every twisted destruction that puts on the show and claims
Such rewards that only prove to be more disappointments bow you bow inwardly hard clay like
Soil is passed and all the choking devices are over powered you feel a new surging it explodes in
All directions falsehood in all of it disguises wither under this purity of emotion commitment I
Detest the former existence I called living from now on my words my life will touch you reach
You at the hurting points you will receive health beyond what a physician can give I will speak
With fire yes divine that is never at a loss it knows everything it evokes joy peace and triumphs
In the hardest places of the heart your tears that in some cases are a history of years of sorrow
These seeds that are going to be sowed eradicate they are pure and healthy to the point they
**** the poison seeds planted by enemies whole time periods of your life will be renewed some
Will for the first time in many years see how beautiful the sun really is darkness and gloom will
Be driven from your life you fought valiantly but it was only in your power you didn’t die but
You have only survived as a wounded tormented one a golden life will replace the tarnished
One we all have even brought accusations against ourselves creating more feebleness we have
Lived in the most apprehensible circumstances there is no escape from this prison when you by
Loyalty to falsehood think you are doing right but every decision cast you deeper into the pit
The Key I found that is the seed I speak of that provides and gives all freedom is profound but
Simple as blind but now I see an antidote talk of sometime by many and by others ignored
Almost completely but open all you are to the greatest power we can and are at different
Degrees snarled over time one trouble sets it in motion wrong reaction kills our defense in this
World that is most dangerous and deadly everything about this season distils down to this fact
Every malady every life ending hope can and will be restored in this gracious copious fact He is
The embodiment of all virtue I don’t have to live a life of disappointment and failure never
Reaching the hurting the potential for glories’ living is yours and mine it all rest in just this act
You must decide I could say don’t be deceived by all the lies and misconceptions I have to give
Up all the things I love this is not true this word of truth will set you free the things I once loved
I now hate the things of God I hated now I love this is the real truth and value of Christmas
While hear enable yourself to bless and truly love others here lately I have struggled with so
Many public and private people dying I wanted an answer I wanted to see the real continuance
Of those that I love I found it this piece gives revelatory exact true expression look around we
Need a provision an escape from what’s coming I will not look at you in judgment with tears
And say you just weren’t worth it your worth everything you don’t need to know but I know I
Will continue in the fire of affliction and I will through him reach more as the word says pluck
Them from the very burning

It's a few days back,
and my life's already change,
I found out ,
something bad,
something new,
something that's unexpected,
something that's to an utter shock,
the words "disaster" scream into my lungs,
drowning me,
flooding me with an echo of silence,
I looked unto you across the cafeteria,
My hearts stabbed with a knife,
A wound  fluttering with pain,
It's unbearable, this feeling i have for you,
So deep,
It's a raging sea of fire,
tumultuous redness surrounds me,
I'm banging the door so loud,
So loud that no one hears me,
My room blasting with loud music,
I'm singing along, crying,
And at last I fell asleep,
And that's just to begin with you.

Within me the voices
Of virtues and vices
Battle valiantly
Daily for victory.

"I drew you a picture."
She said.
Palms open.
It was an outline of her hands in rosepetal pink.
Valiantly spread out on the page.

"Do you like it?"
She said.
Eyes open.
The outline of my face in the seafoam blue shades of them.
Hopefully spread out on her face.

                                                          ­                                               "How could I not."

with a clatter and crash
the q-tips fall to the floor
her broken skin a pale ash
white, clammy and cold
contrasting the metallic hue
of her blood spilling down her arm
saying dearly i’ll miss you
i can’t go on like this

a beautiful diabetic girl
with so much to live for
a diamond in the rough, a pearl
among the splinters
feeling one-thousand percent alone
and done with being herself
ripping her heart to pieces shown
to absolutely no one

little does she realize
she has a cloud of support
to fall back on, her eyes
deceive her looking in the mirror
stumbling blindly around a vast
and empty ocean trying to float
every moment is her last
suspended in a single second
and her rope could twist and break
and she would be gone in a snap
when each day is a constant give-and-take
of her emotions and i
wasn’t around

you fell and i
wasn’t there
to hear it

i lived in your house
you were not my friend
you were my sister
and i didn’t know
the way you cried
the blood you shed
the thoughts that plague your head
and trouble your mind
and you trouble mine

and i’m sorry i didn’t see
we may have grown apart physically
you are and always will be
in my heart and in my soul
i’m sorry i wasn’t always there
but now i am i promise

you mean so much to me
and your ocean’s not empty
it’s filled with creatures of the sea
and the coral and the tide
an amazing unexplored wonder
20,000 leagues under

you can scratch the surface
but you’ll never destroy the beauty
underneath

the duckling was never ugly or wrong
it had forever been a swan
its agile grace a quiet blessing
saved until the unfit traits
were finally abandoned

you will shed away your tortured skin
and leave behind your mortal coils
you will mend up your ruptured heart
and heal to somewhere over the rainbow

with the burning passion
of a thousand bright suns
it’s okay to hate yourself
so long as you don’t let the light
grow cold or fade out
someday you will shine bright
your scars show you’ve
valiantly battled
the demons under your skin
so don’t forget to fight

mama said there’ll be days like this
and each day can be torture
but someday you will recover
so stay golden, ponyboy
brush the dust off
and glow

A million miles over
Cities toppled over like broken glass,
Raging waters with pointed teeth,
Familiar hands lost to the journey,
And hardships nobody on this
Seemingly godforsaken planet
Deserves to endure,
And at the very end of the very last mile,
What right do you have to say,
"You are not welcome here"?
Have you seen the fire that burns
In the orphaned children?
Have you seen the blood of your loved ones
Spilled across your feet?
Have you faced death in the eyes and
Felt his presence in your shadows?
Or have you instead,
Thought the valiantly wandering refugees as
A threat to your quiet life?
I ******* dare you
To look their people in the eyes and tell them
They could be suspected of being terrorists.
I suspect them of being nothing but humans,
Because assuming the worst from not one, but
An entire population--
What kind of logic is that? And
What kind of heart do you have that cannot see
People in need? People that need a place,
If even temporarily, to call home?
Rather,
What kind of heart is it that you lack,
That cannot find the good in people to
Cherish as if you knew their name? And
What kind of heart is it that you lack,
That cannot open your own eyes to the dystopia that is our world
And try to help at least
One
Wandering soul