"youngsters" poems
So …..
Who Are The ...
... " Good Guys " ... ?
In These Modern Times ... ?
Osama … Obama ... ? ?
Or Those … Civil Type Guardia ... ?
What ...
Makes Them Good ... ?
The Guns They Use ...
As If They ... Should ….
To RESTRAIN and ... Defuse ...
VIOLENT … Neighbourhoods … !?!
But REALLY …
Is This ... What They Do … ?!?
I've Heard Stories ...
That … Relay TRUTH ...
About The ABUSE ...
Some Guardia … Choose … !!!
Like …
STRIPPING Men …
In … Spanish Streets ...
To ... Prove To Them ….
The ... Kinda PROBLEMS ...
They're ... BOUND To See ...
If They ... DON'T Respect ...
The ... " Gendarmerie " … !!!!!
Good Guys ….. !!!?!!!
REALLY … ?!?
Or Employed … BULLIES ... !?!
The Type Who ... FEED ...
of … "ABUSE FILLED Deeds" … !!!
The Type That Make ...
Young People … BLEED … !!!
When ...
Guns They … PARADE …
Aren't Used … " Properly " …
Kind of Like …. " NEWTOWN " ….
Where It's CLEAR … Gun Sounds ...
Will Now … RESOUND ...
In The ... Hearts and Mouths ...
of ... Parents Now …
Resound With … " LOSS " … !!!!!
Cos' A ... LOVED One's Gone … !!!!!
WITHOUT A …. Song ….
Or Farewell ... "Prolonged" ...
So …. ???
What Was The Mantra ... ?
of … Adam Lanza ... ?
To Shoot REPEATEDLY ...
In A ... KILLING SPREE …
That Took … SO MANY … !!!!!
Was His Mind So HEAVY ... ?!?
That His Thoughts … CLEARLY …
Had Become … "UNstEAdy" … !!!
So …
Where Were Connecticut's ...
GOOD GUYS … Then … ?
With The ... " NRA " ... !?!
At A ... Shooting Range … ???
Shooting Guns For … "FUN" … !!!
While The Blood of A MUM ...
And Youngsters ..... RUN .....................................
Down SCHOOL Hallways ...
In The … Middle of The Day ... !?!
Now The NRA Says …
"Bad Guys with guns,
need to face, good ones !"
Okay Okay ...
But Let's ... Get This Straight … !!!
It's ... OKAY For A Man ...
Whose Been Paid and Trained ...
To ... SHOOT TO **** ...
Pretty Much AT WILL ...
Cos' It's Been … " Okayed " …
By The …. " NRA " …. !?!
Who Said ...
They Were Good … !!!???!!!
I Learnt My Lesson ...
Watching … Charlton Heston ... !!!
It Would ...
Seem To Me ...
That ... NRA Peeps …
Care ...
MORE For ... MONEY ...
Than When … Children BLEED … !!?!!
It's ... ALL About GREED … !!!
Cos' ...
Good GUYS ... DON'T NEED ...
To Have … " ARMOURIES " ... !!!
To ENSURE The Streets ...
Are Filled With … "PEACE" ...
and I … For One ...
DON'T Believe That Guns ...
Have … ANY Function …
In …. Education …. !!!!!!
Educate Our Youth ….. !!!
About The ...
HARM They Cause ... !!!!!!!
They NEED To Be Schooled ...
In ….... AVOIDING Wars ............ !!!!!!
And In ... Avoiding Depression …
That Leads To HARSH Lessons ... !!!!!
It Time To STRENGTHEN ... !!!
Our Fight Against ... Guns ...
And Time To … " LESSEN " … !!!
" NRA " ... Type Funds ... !!!!!
That SUPPORT … " The Lie "
of ….. " Preservation of life " …
Through The Use of …
………. GUNS …………
Seeing Blood ... Run …
DOESN'T ... Signify FUN … !!!!!
NEITHER Does ...
... The Sight ...
of Police In Schools ...
With A Gun By Their Side … !!!
They Weren't In View …
When I Was ... Being Schooled … !!!
So FOLKS …
DON'T BE ... Fooled ... !!!
By ... Lobbyist Groups … !!!!!
When It Comes To ...
... "Who is Who" …
Who Are THEY To Decide … !???!
When It Comes To ... Peoples' Lives ...
Who The People Should Believe .....
To Be …………………………
... "The Good Guys !!!" ...
Sep 12, 2014
Sep 12, 2014 at 5:03 PM UTC
'We were killing pigs when the
Yanks arrived.
A Tuesday morning, sunlight
and gutter-blood
Outside the slaughter house.
>From the main road
They would have heard the screaming,
Then heard it stop and had a view of us
In our gloves and aprons coming
down the hill.
Two lines of them, guns on their
shoulders, marching.
Armoured cars and tanks and open jeeps.
Sunburnt hands and arms.
Unarmed, in step,
Hosting for Normandy.
Not that we knew then
Where they were headed, standing
there like youngsters
As they tossed us gum and tubes of
coloured sweets'
5.3k
**IMMEDIATELY PLEASE REMOVE ALL OF MY INFORMATION FROM YOUR DATA BASE FORTHWITH. ALSO,
ADVISE ANY AND ALL CONTRACTORS, SUB-CONTRACTORS, AGENTS, SUB-AGENTS, AFFILIATES, PARTNERS, COLLEAGUES, ASSOCIATES, CLIENTS, WEBMASTERS, WEB BASED LINKS, WINKS, TWINKS, COLONEL CLINCKS, BOSSES, CO-WORKERS, EMPLOYEES, VENDORS, SUPPLIERS, SALESMEN, ASCCOUNT REPS/EXCS, ACCOUNTANTS, BROKERS, CO-BROKERS, HACKERS, SLACKERS, WHACKERS, JERKS, PIMPS, HOES, HOBOS, BUMS, DERELICTS, DEGENERATES, DOPERS, DEALERS, TWEEKERS, GAMBLERS, RAMBLERS, SOLICITORS, SIDEKICKS, COHORTS, WINGMEN, WHEELMEN, LOOKOUTS, OUTLAWS, IN-LAWS, RELATIVES, FIANCES, GIRLFRIENDS, BOYFRIENDS, FAMILY, FRIENDS, ENEMIES, EVIL NEMISIS', CANVASSERS, INQUIRERS, QUEERS, QUEENS, COWBOYS, KINGS, **** DRAGS, HAGS, HETEROS, HOMOS, TONY ROMOS, FEMALE IMPERSONATORS, (PRE OR POST) MALE IMPERSONATORS, ***** ***** VAN ***** **** VAN **** LESBIANS, LIARS, BUYERS, CRYERS, CIGAR SMOKERS, CARPET MUNCHERS, RUG RATS, TODDLERS, TEENAGERS, YOUNGSTERS, SENIORS, SUCKERS, TRUCKERS, MOTHER shut yer mouth, LAW MAKERS, LAWYERS, ATTORNEYS, JUDGES, POLITICIANS, PECKERWOODS, LEADERS, FOLLOWERS, DISCIPLES, PROPHETS, EVANGELISTS, SAVIORS, SINNERS, SAINTS, SOOTHSAYERS, MEDICINE MEN, GYPSYS, TRAMPS, AND THIEVES, WITCHES, WARLOCKS, VAMPIRES, LYCANS, ZOMBIES, WAR MONGERS, PROTESTERS, SOLIDERS, GENERALS, GOVERNORS, PRESIDENTS, PATRIOTS, PACKERS, LIONS, BEARS, BROWNS, BLACKHAWKS, REDWINGS, RIGHT WING, LIBERALS, OR LAW BIDING CITIZENS, THEY ARE NOT TO CONTACT ME AND LOOSE MY NUMBER.
BUT IF YOU SEE MY MOM, TELL HER TO CALL ME.
........................................................................BA-ZING....................................................................**
Dec 27, 2013
Dec 27, 2013 at 9:47 AM UTC
homage to Wallace Stevens
I - My Focus pistoned up the rise
and all at once, the Rockies -
silhouettes against the western skies.
II - On the road to Boulder
a pleated ridge crawls north
like a blue whale bound for the open sea.
III - Appalachia's intoxicating verdure
never fails to induce in us
a certain mellowing of the spirit.
IV - You 'conquered' my North Face, did you?
Why, I should skewer your arrogant ***
like a holiday lamb culled for the sacrifice.
V - Lewis and Clark looked west
surveying the Bitterroots' frigid expanse.
Farewell Northwest Passage!
VI - Pueblos stranded on Enchanted Mesa -
their rock stairs crumbled to the valley floor.
Should they dive to their death or starve?
VII –Touristas at Big Bend Park
wonder at its pastel window -
its romantic haze a toxic gift
from stacks across the Rio Grande.
VIII – The once mighty Ozarks humbled by age,
dwarfed by the youthful Rockies.
Listen up, youngsters, your time will come!
IX – We de-bussed to seize the dolomites
with our hyper-kinetic shutters.
Pausing for a draught of Italian air,
I felt the whack of an Alpine snowball.
X - Before Oregon's crater had its lake,
the mountain scorched the village below.
Today its azure waters preach only serenity.
XI – Looking down from Shissler peak
to the golden meadow below
where the elk herd calmly grazes.
XII – Do mists veil the Blue Ridge Mountains
or are there really no mountains at all -
only clouds decked out in mountain attire?
XIII – They say that peaks more steep than Everest
soar up from the ocean floor.
Who will scale their sunken heights?
May 28, 2010 – Boulder Colorado
Mar 19, 2014
Mar 19, 2014 at 12:18 AM UTC
On the outer Barcoo where the churches are few,
And men of religion are scanty,
On a road never cross'd 'cept by folk that are lost,
One Michael Magee had a shanty.
Now this Mike was the dad of a ten year old lad,
Plump, healthy, and stoutly conditioned;
He was strong as the best, but poor Mike had no rest
For the youngster had never been christened.
And his wife used to cry, 'If the darlin' should die
Saint Peter would not recognise him.'
But by luck he survived till a preacher arrived,
Who agreed straightaway to baptise him.
Now the artful young rogue, while they held their collogue,
With his ear to the keyhole was listenin',
And he muttered in fright, while his features turned white,
'What the divil and all is this christenin'?'
He was none of your dolts, he had seen them brand colts,
And it seemed to his small understanding,
If the man in the frock made him one of the flock,
It must mean something very like branding.
So away with a rush he set off for the bush,
While the tears in his eyelids they glistened —
''Tis outrageous,' says he, 'to brand youngsters like me,
I'll be dashed if I'll stop to be christened!'
Like a young native dog he ran into a log,
And his father with language uncivil,
Never heeding the 'praste' cried aloud in his haste,
'Come out and be christened, you divil!'
But he lay there as snug as a bug in a rug,
And his parents in vain might reprove him,
Till his reverence spoke (he was fond of a joke)
'I've a notion,' says he, 'that'll move him.'
'Poke a stick up the log, give the spalpeen a prog;
Poke him aisy — don't hurt him or maim him,
'Tis not long that he'll stand, I've the water at hand,
As he rushes out this end I'll name him.
'Here he comes, and for shame! ye've forgotten the name —
Is it Patsy or Michael or Dinnis?'
Here the youngster ran out, and the priest gave a shout —
'Take your chance, anyhow, wid 'Maginnis'!'
As the howling young cub ran away to the scrub
Where he knew that pursuit would be risky,
The priest, as he fled, flung a flask at his head
That was labelled 'MAGINNIS'S WHISKY'!
And Maginnis Magee has been made a J.P.,
And the one thing he hates more than sin is
To be asked by the folk, who have heard of the joke,
How he came to be christened 'Maginnis'!
3.1k
I used to call them brave, the people who would misbehave
but it was destiny one day I would become like these kids
broken and alone, not feeling loved or happy
the bond between those youngsters was unbreakable
blood is thicker than water is what the old people say
but it in their case the water had won
some people call them tiger stripes
others choose words like battle wounds
you always called it beautiful
but for me it was a curse
something I could never stop
demons whispering in my ear
the devil loves pretending
he always seems to care
and for me that was enough.
Mar 4, 2015
Mar 4, 2015 at 5:25 PM UTC
With no expectation all's novelty
The new patterns don't astound us
We can stay in the middle of the river with our heads above the water
And safely watch the coastline pass us by
The outside world an ocean of television static
The signals painting pictures of entropic holograms
That interlock and correlate
Until the ghosts of time are churning out
Like geese into a a tiny hole
In an orange plastic fence
Fleeing mischievous youngsters
Who love to watch them funneled in
Like grains of sand in an hourglass.
We too live in an hourglass
And the grains of sand empty out the bottom
Floating aimlessly through an unending void
And the ultimate improbability
Goes through the formality of actually occurring
When the grain of sand finds itself at the beginning
Passing once again through the hourglass
Undivided, indistinguishable
Nov 28, 2012
Nov 28, 2012 at 10:12 AM UTC
O daddy,
Why are you so Maleficent?
O daddy,
For our health you are Maleficent!
O daddy,
Why so much discipline?
Are we not your children?
O daddy,
Why such strictness?
Why such madness?
O daddy,
Why should now we do it?
O daddy,
Remember that you failed too!
O daddy,
Stop imposing your dreams on us!
Stop being strict with youngsters!
O daddy,
Such mirth we do never deserve!
Such unworthy treatment, why!
Jun 3, 2017
Jun 3, 2017 at 1:40 AM UTC
Letter from a dead man,
His souls up where is he?
Letter from a dead man,
To Heaven or hell he will see.
Letter from a dead man,
To where at can he be?
Letter from a dead man,
No more food can he feed,
Letter from a dead man,
His life's up as you read.
Scared so scared like the millions heard,
Scared of death and me,
Food for thought like the old man said,
An innings of eighty three,
Letter from a dead man,
Stand up remember thee,
Letter from a dead man,
His hymns sheets of real cacophony,
Letter from a dead man,
Sing up and let it be,
Letter from a dead man,
Switches off his life machine,
Letter from a dead man,
A celebration of his legacy
Buried treasured no mans land
In the hills of this cemetery,
Ashes to ashes dust to dust
Just remember him when he leaves.
Letter from a dead man,
To the point of its will,
Letter from a dead man,
No good when he's lying still,
Letter from a dead man,
No more laughs his body chills,
Letter from a dead man,
After he takes his last sleeping pill,
Letter from a dead man,
In Forever credible.
Disappeared no land frontier,
Tales to wander now,
Tears for fears after all these years,
Distinguished with a crown.
Letter from a dead man,
Shall he spell out to you now,
Letter from a dead man,
More ups than been downs,
Letter from a dead man,
Snarl bites from a vicious hound,
Letter from a dead man,
Safe grace under ground,
Letter from a dead man,
Not safe as it sounds.
Worry, Worry, Super Hurry,
To the day that they bereaved,
Money, Money not so funny,
Something changes as he leaves
Letter from a dead man,
Its with you that he thanks,
Letter from a dead man,
A new change of circumstance,
Letter from a dead man,
Sons&Daughters; admirals,
Letter from a dead man,
As love has a chance,
Letter from a dead man,
He's happy with its deliverance.
In days gone by I took to past,
Reflected on happiness as if to last.
So many wondrous days, jolly, quiet, crazily loved been raised.
In many parts chapter arts, like as youngsters we drove our racing carts,
I pinned a bullseye dart with an eye to target the centre of my whole being. Teenage days of bad school days to my first pint with the Trin! Laughter and such worked harder as much for the shackles I threw away!
Up, Up and away my off spring played with hay, did me proud as they made their way! Middle age to this very stage to people I've met. In love, friendship, peace and loyalty to you I will never forget.
Letter from a dead man,
Insane or nice you may think, but with a life time guarantee.
Letter from a dead man,
With r.I.p love from me..
O'Reily@05032013
Jun 19, 2014
Jun 19, 2014 at 11:34 PM UTC
generation me,
the selfie generation,
lazy,
selfish,
going nowhere,
mean,
reckless.
but what the 'great generation' and those who came before us don't understand,
is that we are a generation all our own,
akin to the hippies,
and radical youngsters in the 60s,
fighting against our parents in our own way.
we are owning ourselves and our bodies.
we are breaking free from their grasps
through our sexuality
our selfies
our words and our actions.
we are a generation who is owning ourselves and how we feel
we are revolutionary ourselves.
Nov 24, 2014
Nov 24, 2014 at 9:29 PM UTC
Us living as we do upside down.
And the new word to have is revolution.
People don't even want to hear the preacher
spill or spiel because God's whole card has been thoroughly piqued.
And America is now blood and tears instead of milk and honey.
The youngsters who were programmed to continue
******* up woke up one night digging
Paul Revere and Nat Turner as the good guys.
America stripped for bed and we had not all yet closed our eyes.
The signs of Truth were tattooed across our open ended ******
We learned to our amazement untold tale of scandal.
Two long centuries buried in the musty vault,
hosed down daily with a gagging perfume.
America was a ******* the illegitimate daughter of the mother country
whose legs were then spread around the world
and a ****** known as freedom, free doom.
Democracy, liberty, and justice were revolutionary code names
that preceded the bubbling bubbling bubbling bubbling bubbling
in the mother country's crotch
What does Webster say about soul?
All I want is a good home and a wife
and a children and some food to feed them every night.
After all is said and done build a new route to China if they'll have you.
Who will survive in America?
Who will survive in America?
Who will survive in America?
Who will survive in America?
Oct 3, 2012
Oct 3, 2012 at 9:40 PM UTC
Harvey sees the sun for the first time
without history--
the worn leather, unshined shoes in closet,
the ex-girls off the telephone--
the beams blow kisses, taunt, and beckon.
Harvey folds a paper with half a sentence
and puts it in his pocket--
"I'm too callused to love, too empty to be, a void..."
he knows the end but doesn't write it.
Harvey dreams of calm waters,
salt, sundresses, and eager toenails hammered into sand.
A waitress's reflection in the coffee shop glass shakes Harvey from trance.
"Another cup?" she asks with a crowbar forehead.
Harvey stares at her wrinkles, prying for exposition--
while her voice melts over innocent questions.
Harvey thinks about taking her home.
She'd talk of her ex-husband.
They didn't have kids, but she wanted them.
Harvey couldn't give her kids,
but he could give her him--
a favor.
She wouldn't die alone.
"Did you hear me? Coffee?"
He'd make her feel tall.
She'd find new, fast-talking, book-n-tabloid-munching friends.
Harvey would nod and "oooh" and "ahhh".
Harvey would itch for wrecking ball.
The waitress pours the cup despite his silence.
"If you need anything, let me know."
Harvey nods.
The coffee shop contains the hustle of a mad race track.
Elderlies at the bar, youngsters on the tile floor,
moms and dads hoping to choke with each bite of doughnut.
Harvey doesn't pay much attention to the other patrons.
They are reds, yellows, blues, and noise to him.
He unfolds the piece of a paper and writes,
"I'm too callused to love, too empty to be,
a void in search of a void to sink and share
the blackness."
He leaves a tip on the table.
He pays the cashier.
He leaves the colors and the noise.
He crumples the paper, and gives
it to the wind outside.
May 4, 2012
May 4, 2012 at 12:43 AM UTC
Oh Marathi-Sindhi beauty,
I did not know that you'd intrude,
Deep in my heart & mind.
Your looks are elfin gorgeous,
I am downright stumped,
Of your positive attitude I'm a fan.
Your daily schedule is admirable,
Not many youngsters are organized,
And the majority roam aimlessly.
I so admire that you teach kids,
I see responsibility in your eyes,
Not many care for their families.
How you manage tuning the strings,
Happy & content you are always,
You smile how so ever be the things.
From you the world will learn,
Jealous from the respect you earn,
To be like you they will yearn.
So yes, the respect grows deep,
Down at the bottom of my heart,
As water to roots it will seep.
Jan 21, 2016
Jan 21, 2016 at 5:32 AM UTC
"In our culture people tend to over-personalize"
I don't understand that statement, Professor.
In fact, I think it's a paradox;
I think our culture tends to under-personalize.
Women are just **** and men are just dollar signs.
We make generalizations to degrade those around us, whether the generalizations are true or not.
Our culture supports independence
and opinions and freedom,
yet we label everyone with their own box
of stereotypes: gender, race, ****** preference,
appearance, religion, and intelligence.
Our culture de-personalizes individuals:
While us youngsters sit and exploit our lack of work ethic,
demoralize ourselves, smoke our cigarettes,
and play with technology,
laying waste to our mental health.
Our culture promotes individuality:
While the children of this era,
the poor, blessed children
are spoiled rotten,
and pitied for the mess they will have to clean up
when the young
adults of today become
the dead of tomorrow.
Sep 30, 2014
Sep 30, 2014 at 4:22 PM UTC
Oh, Young, you're the sunshine in the morning
Realize, how this dark world can be so heartless
You are the power and the weapon to win
Be bold and build up the best world.
Do something for the refugees. You are free
and take out all of the injustice from here
You are fearless and a hard-fighting soldier
Take the clutter away from the world.
You're the burning fire and the ocean full of love
Move the social problems away from the earth
Look, the dynamic stars are in the sky
Be patient, you have to walk over the darkest path.
Your work will be rewarded by the next generation
Fulfill your responsibility before the completion!
Nov 28, 2017
Nov 28, 2017 at 10:58 AM UTC
[Justin Vernon - Bon Iver: Sample From "Woods"]
I’m up in the woods, I’m down on my mind
I’m building a still to slow down the time
I’m up in the woods, I’m down on my mind
I’m building a still to slow down the time
I‘m up in the woods, I’m down on my mind
I’m building a still to slow down the time
[Hook 1 x2]
I’m lost in the world, I’m down on my mind
I’m new in the city, and I’m down for the night
Down for the night
Said she’s down for the night
[Kanye West - Verse 1]
You're my devil, you're my angel
You're my heaven, you're my hell
You're my now, you're my forever
You're my freedom, you're my jail
You're my lies, you're my truth
You're my war, you're my truce
You're my questions, you're my proof
You're my stress and you're my masseuse
Mamasaymamasamamakusa
Lost in this plastic life
Let's break out of this fake *** party
Turn this in to a classic night
If we die in each others arms we still get laid in our afterlife
If we die in each others arms we still get laid, yeah
[Hook 2]
I’m up in the woods, I’m down on my mind
(Run from the lights, run from the night)
I’m building a still to slow down the time
(Run for your life, Down for the night...)
I’m lost in the world, I’m down on my mind
I’m new in the city, and I’m down for the night
Down for the night
Said she’s down for the night
(Run from the lights, run from the night)
[Bridge]
Who will survive in America
Who will survive in America
Who will survive in America
[Hook]
[Gil-Scott Heron]
Us living as we do upside down. And the new word to have is revolution
People don’t even want to hear the preacher spill or spiel
Because God’s whole card has been thoroughly piqued
And America is now blood and tears Instead of milk and honey
The youngsters who were programmed To continue ******* up
Woke up one night digging Paul Revere and Nat Turner as the good guys
America stripped for bed and we had not all yet closed our eyes
The signs of Truth were tattooed across our often entered ******
We learned to our amazement untold tale of scandal. Two long centuries buried In the musty vault, hosed down daily with a gagging perfume
America was a ******* the illegitimate daughter of the mother country
Whose legs were then spread around the world and a ****** known as freedom, free doom. Democracy, liberty, and justice
Were revolutionary code names that preceded the bubbling bubbling bubbling bubbling bubbling in the mother country’s crotch
What does Webster say about soul?
All I want is a good home and a wife
And a children and some food to feed them every night
After all is said and done build a new route to China if they’ll have you
Who will survive in America?
Who will survive in America?
Nov 19, 2013
Nov 19, 2013 at 11:20 AM UTC
Once
on the red tyre swing
we swung
in our red tyre dreams
we sung
songs of red
then we began to swing and swang and swung
till the tired red sun shone
throughout the world of a red tired toddler’s mind
the redness spread with tired red hands
and consumed every inch of our tired red skin
and there
under the red tyre swing we sat
swimming in the muggy air
breathing
inhalations and expectations of teens
waiting for a life of red faced busy faced love traced excitement
and then
we sat under that red tyre swing
an old couple looking out
our fond red tinted memories of tyre swinging joy
on the red tyre swing with our red tired limbs
and gray tinted minds with hair that once shone
with joy and laughter
and now here we lie under the red tyre swing
with the same tired red sun
tracing across the skin
with grey skin hair
and eyes
and we close them looking skyward past our red tyre swing
into the red eyelids that are all that remain
of our youth
the only unaffected view
for a couple of youngsters
aching to ride our red tyre swing into the red layered sky
at the sunset of our lives.
May 15, 2016
May 15, 2016 at 3:37 PM UTC
frozen fallout shelter housing dried goods and tinder
black bean and rice prepper bent on the end of days
looking first to the sky and then to the government
absorbing radiation and propaganda
faster than organic apple juice can flush the system
triple berry blast yogurt smoothie shakes violently
in hands coated with Lyme and the scent of the non-believers
bodies unburied lead only to disease and discomfort
stench filled landscape harboring mutated mankind
arms outstretched seeking normalcy and edible grains
contaminated meat from damaged cans sits unprotected
thin and frail lithosphere no longer preventing dermal cancer
only encouraging drought and famine while burning retinas and emaciating newborns
procreation as a plan of self-destruction and child-abuse
distant smokestacks, cracked, create a forlorn skyline
instilling visuals from days gone by
of easy life and happy youngsters
before the nuclear discovery
Mar 17, 2014
Mar 17, 2014 at 3:54 PM UTC
aged bodies
the payment of years
lived
Hearts as big as engines
expanded by love
self giving
They walk side by side
in- step in-tune
that old couple know more of loving
than any youngsters alive
Jun 16, 2014
Jun 16, 2014 at 7:31 AM UTC
Feel a gaping hole,
Located center-fold.
Nothing seems out of place,
Except for our long-lost chaste.
Eden has come and gone,
Yet here we remain in throngs.
Confused by our own existence,
We look for God’s assistance.
Unknown emotions start stirring,
A transformation is occurring.
Metamorphosing into man-made monsters,
Dropping bombs onto unknowing youngsters.
Feel a gaping hole,
Located center-fold.
Nothing seems out of place,
Except for God’s long lost embrace.
Eden’s now a myth,
Telling of Man’s zenith.
Unsure of our own existence,
We turn to Pain’s assistance.
Catalytic events annihilate Man’s innocence,
GOD HELP US! We can’t find the cure to this pestilence.
Race against race,
Man against man,
Child against child,
The innocent cadavers are still being piled.
Feel a gaping hole,
Located center-fold.
Nothing seems out of place,
Except for our disintegrating face.
Aug 30, 2013
Aug 30, 2013 at 4:45 AM UTC
In the villa in Sharja,
A banyan tree stood, stuck to the wall of the building.
Mind throbbed as soon as it caught sight of it,
Touched it to my forehead in reverence,
Remembered my father who understood trees.
In the book she has kept closed,
It should be possible to still see
The memory veins of a leaf-
Plucked after touching its soul and seeking permission.
‘It is a sign of prosperity,
It cleanses the atmosphere’, Mary too said.
New tenants came in the room vacated by Priyan and Anjana
Jaya aunty and her husband said that they wore skull caps
Narayanan, wearing sacred thread and sandalwood paste on his forehead,
Anthony with rosary and sacred amulet
After them,
Youngsters of this type were not seen so nearby
One night, when I went out of my way to touch that tree,
I heard speech of a rhythmic nature
From the room of those who wore caps
It passed through my mind, ‘these are times when words become music.’
It was a Friday.
While watering Basil plants,
Saw the branches of the banyan on the ground.
Its leaves, like heart shattered..
Whitish veins drained of blood
my eyes hurt
As I ran to it,
Saw the tree,
Looking like a worshipper whose hands were cut
While crying, beseeching the heavens , arms outstretched.
Father,
You used to say that there were many types of trees
Which tree is used to make crosses to crucify humans, Father?
Oct 8, 2013
Oct 8, 2013 at 9:54 AM UTC
I recall the rustic leaves,
and the sound they made when crushed
under skateboard wheels,
as they settled around the half-pipe
and the worn rails of Peter Pan Park.
Youngsters,
with their colorful helmets and their
better-safe-than-sorry knee pads,
kicked and pushed their way across the pavement
and pumped their fists in the air
as their boards reached the other side.
In this Neverland, the kids wanted adventure first -
the tea could wait at home for a little longer.
But, as dusk settles,
the pirates emerge upon the asphalt shores
in fleets of tinted windows and loud exhausts.
These pirates, still adolescent in their own age,
bicker and fight until a hook pierces skin,
blood spills upon the crisp leaves,
and a boy - with naiveness still glistening in his eyes -
becomes another boy who would not grow up
in the Never Never of Peter Pan Park.
Jan 21, 2014
Jan 21, 2014 at 1:21 PM UTC