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Long poem by Trisha Sugarek | Details |

The Ash Can

The Ash Can  ©

I got the call on Sunday night.  I was traveling on business.  When I looked at the caller ID
 I wondered why my husband’s boss would be calling me.  I was unprepared for what
 he told me and my legs turned to water when he said that my husband was dead. 
 ‘A heart attack?  An accident?’ I asked.  ‘No’, he said, ‘John committed suicide.  
 They found him in your garage this morning.’  I heard someone screaming and 
wished that they would stop so I could hear the rest.  His voice was very far away
 and the woman just kept screaming.  ‘Shut up! Shut up!’  I need to hear.  I clapped my
 hand over my mouth when I suddenly realized it was me who was screaming.
 I don’t remember hanging up or getting on the plane. (beat)  Yes, John and I were having
 problems and we had been separated for about three months but nothing was official. 

 After thirty years of marriage I never believed that we couldn’t weather this and share 
the rest of our lives together.  This was just a phase he was going through…some sort 
of mid-life crisis.  This had to be some horrible mistake, a case of mistaken identity.  
My John would never do this, leave me like this.  (beat)  

I stumbled into our home around nine the next morning.  The house looked like a woman
 hadn’t lived there for months. Dirty dishes in the sink, groceries half put away, empty 
beer cans and a full ashtray by John’s chair.  Seeking comfort I walked over to his chair. 
 Out of the corner of my eye, I caught a glimpse of a reflection in the mirror over the
 fireplace.  Some wild looking woman with mascara smudges under her eyes and smeared
 lipstick looked out at me. I walked closer to inspect this stranger in my house.  
She looked old and used up.  Who was she?  What had life dealt her to look so worn out? 
Oh, God, it was me.  Staring out with those eyes bleeding hot, raw pain.  (beat)  I curled
 up in John’s chair and closed my eyes.  Was this all I had left of my husband?  This slightly shabby piece of furniture that still smelled of him?  How could I tell our children?  Could I bear to go into the garage?  What would I find? 
 I knew that they had taken his body away but what had they left there for me to see?  
Maybe something there would prove that this was truly a mistake.    I rose to my feet and 
walked into the kitchen and through the laundry room to the garage door. (beat)

I slowly opened it and was knocked back by the remaining stink of gas fumes.   
John’s car sat in its parking spot, the garden hose hanging from the back window like 
some obscene snake.  I gagged and pressed the button to open the garage door.  
The passenger side window was open so I could look inside without having to touch the car.  And what I saw on the seat told it all.  There was John’s cell phone, an empty bottle of Vodka and a bottle of Excedrin.  (beat)  And something else…a second cell phone…what in the world? I was only allowed five seconds of blissful denial before it all came crashing down on me.  The second phone…the secret phone that men who cheat keep to talk to their lovers.  All those protestations he offered during the time that we were apart.  ‘No, there was no one else’, ‘I just need to find myself’, ‘I don’t want a divorce’, ‘I just need some time’. ‘I love you; I’m just not in love with you.’  Lies, all lies!  How could I have been so stupid?  Then I notice a crumpled manila envelope on the floor of the car.  Anger driven, I opened the door and picked up the envelope and the two cell phones and went back into the house.  Sitting in John’s chair once again, I smoothed out the envelope and read what was written there.  
‘Ricky, tell Sherry I love her. Tell Sherry I can’t live without her.  Tell Sherry not to cry
 for me. Sherry, I’ll love you forever. I’m sorry.....John-Boy.’  Who the hell was Sherry? 
 Did my husband of three decades kill himself over some tramp?  Some other woman 
whom he barely knew?  I picked up the second cell phone and scanned the history of calls.
  Where was area code 864? As I set the phone down my eye caught the partial title of 
a book lying on the rug under the table.  Picking it up, I read: ‘How To Keep A Long 
Distance Relationship Exciting and New.’  I opened it to the first few pages and found an
 inscription,  ‘To my tiny dancer, until we meet again.  Love forever, your John-Boy.’
My God, John, how could you?  How could you do this to us?  I yelled as I threw the 
book across the room; will this hellish nightmare never end? (beat)  I picked up the
 cell phone and scrolled down the history; Sherry Hoffman, Sherry Hoffman, Sherry Hoffman, Sherry Hoffman.  No other woman, huh, John? South Carolina…hence the long distance relationship…you’re such a fool, I told myself. There was voice mail saved and I listened to the most current ones.  Those messages told a story of a married woman who had a son and a new grandchild. 

Another sad, pedestrian story of a restless woman trapped in a loveless marriage but
 unwilling to leave.  The daughter-in-law apparently would not let Sherry see the child. 
 It seemed that John, in a misplaced attempt to help, called Sherry’s son to insist that
 he let Sherry see her grand-baby. 
 Only to succeed in blowing up that family.   The final message was not so sweet and 
sexy from his lover. Sherry had dumped my husband. (beat)  I didn’t know whether 
to laugh or cry.  I seemed to be trapped in a crazed, unbelievable soap opera.  But what 
is it that they say about truth being stranger than fiction?  I sighed.  John had always
 wanted to rescue anyone in trouble…even when they didn’t ask for help.   He had crossed
the line calling that woman’s son.  Oh, John, what were you thinking?,  I asked the empty
 room. Didn’t you know?  You were her dirty little secret.... (more)

(from my book, Monologues 4 Women) 





Long poem by SillyBilly theKidster | Details |

Billy the Kid's Great Escape

*
Sentenced to hang in the town of Lincoln,
Billy made his bold escape.
Both of his guards died from thinking
that a shackled young boy couldn't break away.
*
I've often wondered what thoughts were going through his head
as he stood staring out that window chained to the floor by his bed,
watching the gallows being built that would soon seal his fate.
Was he planning at that very moment his greatest escape?
Did he already know that his hanging would never come to be?
Was he already aware that before night fall, once again he'd be free?
Whatever his thoughts, they were interrupted rudely
by Deputy Bob Ollinger, one of his guards while in custody.
"Word has it you said that if we ever met again you'd kill me on the spot. 
Well here I am Kid. Now's your chance. Show me what you've got. 
It's a shame that you'll hang in another week or two, 
because I'd love to be the one who gets to kill you. 
I've got 16 silver dimes in the barrells of my shotgun. 
I'd love to try them out on you, but I can't unless you run. 
If I free you from those chains will you run for the door? 
Oh by the way Kid, your Ma was one sweet dirty whore. 
I'll kill you before you hang Kid. That's a sure bet." 
"Be careful Bob," said the Kid, "I'm not hung yet."
Bob thrusted his shotgun hard into Billy's gut. 
The Kid looked up at him in pain and said, "Now what?" 
"Don't do it Bob," Bell screamed angrily,
"or you'll be the one who'll hang for sure 
for killing an unarmed man in cold blood
who was chained helplessly to the floor. 
It's time for the other prisoners to be escorted across the street to be fed. 
The Kid's not going anywhere. He's chained to the floor by his bed. 
Anyway, I took the prisoners last so now it's your turn. 
Go and have yourself a beer and I'll stay here 
and guard the Kid until you return." 
Bob Ollinger placed his shotgun into the gun rack. 
Before he left he said to Billy, "I'll see you when I get back." 
No one can say for sure if the above dialog ever truly took place, 
but one thing's for sure, 
Ollinger tormented Billy at a merciless endless pace. 
They were arch enemies who fought against each other
during the Lincoln County War. 
Ollinger was in the posse that killed John Tunstall,
Billy's employer, friend and mentor. 
"I have to use the privy Bell," Billy said to the deputy. 
Bell kept his rifle trained on Billy as he tossed him the key. 
Billy unlocked the chains that kept him bound to the floor. 
Still in handcuffs and leg irons, Bell escorted Billy out the door. 
Billy entered the outhouse closing the door behind him. 
"Let's not take too long in there Kid," Bell said with a humorous grin. 
While in the outhouse Billy managed to slip one of his hands out of his handcuff. 
"You fall in there Kid?" Bell laughed, "You've been in there long enough." 
"I'm coming out now Bell," Billy said opening the door. 
"Sorry I took so long Bell. I must have ate something bad for sure." 
Deputy Bell then escorted Billy back to the jail cell. 
Once inside, Billy spun around and smacked hard Deputy James Bell. 
Bell lost his balance, dropped his rifle and was momentarily stunned. 
"Hands Up Bell!," the Kid yelled. In his hand was a gun. 
"Please don't do it Bell," Billy pleaded, but Bell tried to run. 
The Kid had no choice but to do what had to be done. 
He shot and killed Bell, then went and got Ollinger's shotgun. 
The Kid never found pleasure in killing, 
but Ollinger would indeed be the exception. 
Knowing that Ollinger heard the gunfire, Billy stood by the window 
and waited for Ollinger to appear in the street down below. 
One senior named Godfrey saw Bell fall dead down the stairs. 
The moment probably gave Godfrey a few more gray hairs. 
Ollinger ran out into the street as Godfrey screamed, 
"The Kid's killed Bell!" 
Ollinger looked up into both barrels of his own shotgun 
and whispered, "..and now he's killed me as well."
"Hello Bob!," Billy called out with a song in his heart 
just prior to blowing Bob Ollinger apart. 
He blasted both barrels into Ollinger's chest and face. 
Pieces of old Bob lay scattered all over the place. 
Billy smashed his shotgun in two, threw it at him but missed. 
"You'll never rifle me again," he screamed, "you son of a b*tch!" 
On the balcony he addressed the crowd whose jaws hung agape. 
"I don't want to hurt anyone, 
but I'll kill anybody who tries to prevent my escape." 
In the office he found a sledge hammer
and smashed the chains of his leg irons free. 
He told Godfrey to fetch him a fast horse immediately. 
As he walked down the stairs, he came upon Bell's lifeless body 
and many eyewitnesses admit
that the Kid looked upon him and said almost tearfully, 
"I'm sorry I killed you Bell, but couldn't help it." 
As Billy mounted the horse the chains of his leg irons startled the beast. 
The horse reared up and threw Billy down onto the street. 
He was at this point his most vulnerable laying down on the ground. 
The crowd could have overtaken him easily, but none made a move or a sound. 
Once again Billy mounted the horse
and fled with the sound of his leg iron chains ringing. 
Many claim that as he rode out of Lincoln County
that they heard the Kid singing. 
Billy had escaped danger so many other times in his past, 
but this was his greatest escape ever. It would also be his last.
*
"I had no intention of killing either one of them. My plan was to tie and gag Bell and then get out of there before Ollinger got back, but then things went terribly wrong.....I certainly didn't want to kill Bell, but I had to in order to save my own life....I never felt happier than when I gave it to old Bob. I said, "Look up here old boy and see what you're getting". I then blasted him in the face and breast. He use to ride me to the point where I just couldn't take it anymore."
- Billy the Kid


Long poem by ravin Gupta | Details |

My Princess Of Imagination

                                        MY PRINCESS OF IMAGINATION
                                       -----------------------------
                                       -----------------------------

You are an empress of Heaven who descended on earth
A dear angel of God has taken birth

Your presence brings an awesome fragrance of joy
You are more beautiful than the Helen Of Troy

You resemble a symbol of peace, calmness, wonder and cheer
Like numerous scented flowers engulfed the entire atmosphere

Your presence enthralls the atmosphere with such an ardent passion
Flowers bloom, birds sing, oceans roar, Heaven rejoices in a supernatural fashion

Being a stranger but yet so familiar is an experience of mystery
I wanna be with your present, wanna be with the dreams of your future but never become your past history

I know nothing of you... but your life is a holy book written so well
Synonymous in nature to a religious novel

Every word of which would be so pious and divine
Their utterance will strengthen my soul and make it purely refined

And every word of which I wish you would share with me
And I would keep on listening with extreme curiosity

Hope this book of your life is so lengthy never ending and complicated
That while explaining me with clarity, your entire life is dedicated
Going through your inspiring life will make my mind so captivated
That in things of the world my attention will be never diverted

I would sync deep into your thoughts dreams and emotions
Explore your life like navigating through the depth of mighty oceans
The facts of your life will be as delightful as your nature
Synonymous in experience with a lifetime adventure 
                          to be remembered forever

I wish I was a memorable entity always alive in the vicinity of your thought
Some one who gifted u a special feeling which is beyond the scope of being bought
Spiritual connection with you is magical pleasure. My soul rejuvenates a lot

Your life is extraordinary, it is an eternal bliss
Similar to such a wonderful voyage, the bitter past I shall never reminisce 

Your soul resembles heaven's beauty filled with an angel's grace
I wish to find rest and comfort in such a sacred place

Worldly creatures are mesmerized by your supreme fragrance of serenity
The peace u provide, the calmness u bring resembles an heavenly entity
Synonymous to a medical replenishment of decaying souls to repair all their defects
Such that all disturbance, grief and sorrow are conquered and lose their effects

By the holiness of your spirit every evil existence shall perish
This divine revolution will leave behind only sweet remains to cherish
You bring forth the delight of eternity, a heavenly aura and shine
Which enlightens, encourages depressed souls, their lives renewed and new hopes defined

The everlasting impact of your presence inspires me to build an immortal attachment
And reside under your shadow which symbolizes an abode of holy settlement

I observe a pattern of silence in your behavior
I am unsure if this is part of your natural gesture
What is the reason for this sense of melancholy strain?
May be there is some trauma which brings you pain
Some moments of life you spend in mere solitude
What made u acquire such a lonely attitude?

I pray in your life there must not be any sorrow
Even if there is, I would willfully like to borrow
Any cloud of darkness over your life is beyond my tolerance
No power can besiege your holy throne of reverence

Alas and at last, there is something to say
I am striving with a pathetic feeling of dismay
Why I am so helpless that can not talk to you
Why are you a stranger? Am I some one so new?
Albeit a stranger, why I feel myself so close to you

Its my dream to talk to you for indefinite moments 
To disturb this peaceful conversation, i would'nt prefer ugly opponents

The passion of my imagination is beautiful far beyond the facts of reality
Where in I understand your holy life book in the sacred place with sanctity

I believe you live on earth but exist in the wonders of heaven
Alas your presence in my life may be something I am against hope hopen

Wish for an opportunity to express myself to you
Seems an awkward desire as u consider me so new

In the vision of my imagination, I will always find you near
Your divine presence eliminates any syndrome of fear
And I promise to cherish your presence in my memories till my days are over

I recognize your adorable nature rather than your beautiful look
I already defined you Synonymous to a precious holy book

Wish these feelings on your mind will have a profound impact
Finding acceptance in your life is still an unknown fact
Unknown is whether I bear that supreme fortune to experience your acceptance
Or Else you would consider me unimportant and indulge me in repentance

Wishing you all the best in your future endeavors
To honour my thoughts, please do me some small favours

Give me a true promise that you will forget me never
Request you to cherish these thoughts in your memory with pleasure
And edify yourself as heavenly princess as you are an eternal treasure

Thank You


Long poem by S.Jagathsimhan Nair | Details |

The story of history

The Story of History  

Beyond those beaten days’ depleted daylight
Beyond the bathos of a pandemic bondage
With  the resurrected  sashay’s charmed night
Down in the dumps   at the pretentious  proscenium
A  shy  orchestration sans bark and bite
Afloat in  the  air  of inarticulate mind games

Intuitive rains,  first ever, like the touch of Midas 
Informed  dense minds  and filled  their dented bowls
Birthing the quartet of Vedas and similar works
There was this epic, longest ever , they say
Bales and bales of tales in miscible moral wraps 
With a natal nugget, on  tall righteous props
The Mahabharata with the Gita, like Mata,  Pita

And its transcendental twin  revered more
For  a daily hosanna..the Ramayana with a deep lore
Banish-evil-battle-cries, confronting  blasted minds
Search lights, self’s  unfoldment  and its kind

Her  children  made but never did dig history
But loved digging up its bedraggled mystery
To find bone dry drains, history’s torn veins
Below multi layered mud and muddled bricks

Twisted  and labored logic on  tensile testaments
Sites that suffered blights thru unknowable nights
To find the four  battens , the debacle, to follow
Someone on the way labeled it  Harappa .

All the while Light ruled, but rigours too brewed
Calling often for a reordering of ways  so crude
Then there were slices of truce..
 The Buddha..Shankara..

Of  collapsed  black holes the horizon  was full
Faded for once their  gravitational  pulls 
Exploding back as eternal stars ..
Kalidasa, Aryabhata…

Alongside kings ruled and kingdoms rolled
‘ Ruler’-coaster-rides  on thrones and thorns followed
Till bandit chieftains erased the all important lines
To the dance of dust from an advancing west
 Battling  to drop anchors on motherly chest.

Bare-faced brigands. Among their odious offspring
Some stood out to shine with a stupendous ring
Either putting up   statecraft’s show pieces
Or  scripting  epitaphs in  eponymous edifices

Till dissipated and deterred they too heard
The trenchant  call of folks  come from far  to trade
That would spell , in time, your damnation
In manacles of measured manipulations.

Against  its prolonged , protracted reticulation
Rose legit  gripes from  gregarious  formations
That would coalesce under the one and only Gandhi
Into  their momentous waking into life and freedom

Split up, as it were, into  two bickering fragments
To play fitfully, for ever, their petulant fiddles
Averse to complement under demagogic detours
Falsely comfy under the convenience of  inheritance

                               -2-

Six decades of self rule on, your children feel conned
Not for failed hopes, but for the disharmony that haunts.

An  one- sport -nation fixated  with a fixing -fame-game
Movie-obsessed , and with  its TV 
Blank beyond trivia and brand names.


Money and food are no problem  for many
But, for too many, they are; vehicles are plenty
But roads aren’t ;  laws are varied and abundant
Some redundant , but every  pervert who counts
Interprets them different and funnily  implements.


Health care wears a five star halo sans humaneness.
It never frees a dying adult or kid from its kinky tubes
Nor permit  the company of kin to them  for one last time
Ignores the terminally and  unmovably sick stuck at home.

Agriculture does well, but farmers don’t ,.. and kill themselves
Petty  retailers  are swell making a killing, selling farm produce.

Stupidity grows muscles to muzzle humanity 
Hunks grow on  vitamins, video games and vanity
 Freed millions  press after pelf and power, plays hell
With the  weak and  the women , their perennial fair game

Profiteering,  covert, overt, and  across the board
The sick, the student, the seeker after any service  
Any  victim or one with a gripe being its victims
That’s by the very cream , no less, all the same
 Media scream with scam and spam all the time
Even the ones,( that’s about all), with their own aims
The combined  do’s of brash bravado and venality 
A  rash on governance   and a blot on name.
Effete ethics  and moribund morals, seniors mumble..

‘Equality before law’  means ’ Advantage to the outlaw’
Freedom for the grabs means  restraints to many
Succour  often hard-to -reach and  reaching-too-late
Louts and lousy offices dot street corners and roads

Governance press after  targets  too disparate 
To cohere or collaborate towards  a  wholesome goal,
Leaving holes for private or pet agendas to infiltrate.

Front-end-folks or  prickly pears?
Menace, malice, avarice,  lies, police…
Unrestrained delight in deliberate discourtesies.
Why -dad-anyway-Why- not- call-him-uncle-attitudes…

What does not tempt is in for contempt,
Being irreverent to the important, and indifferent
To the different,  is the norm and the trend.

Democracy could well slip into demonocracy  
Like when “Two wolves and a goat vote to decide dinner”**
In the absence of the Will to lift it to meritocracy?


PS:  This poem ( 100 lines, 777 words, as it turned about to be ) is about INDIA, my country.
*”Mata, Pita ‘  mean   Mother, Father
** Based on a quote seen somewhere.

S.Jagathsimhan Nair,  26 May 2013,

For Cyndi  MacMillan’s contest.


Long poem by Demetrios Trifiatis | Details |

WE ARE BROTHERS

WE ARE BROTHERS


1.

Don’t look at me as though I am an alien or stranger,
Don’t let the dagger of antipathy fly out of your eyes,
                                                     I am your neighbor! 

Don’t call me foe, antagonist or rival,
Don’t roll up your mistrustful sleeves to have a fight,
                                                             I am your friend!

Don’t hold this murderous weapon in your kind hand,                                                              
Don’t deny me the right to work, to eat, to live,
                                                       I am your BROTHER!
                                         

2.

If destiny willed me to be born on this side of the
                                                      Frontier line,
If my parents wished me these clothes to wear
                           And taught me their own dances,
                                 Do we have to be adversaries?   

If fate desired me to speak this foreign tongue,
And the color of my skin to be different than yours,
                             Do we have to be competitors?

If necessity decided in this country, in the North,
                          or South, or East, or West to live,
                               Do we have to be opponents?

If I believe in Jesus, Jehovah, Krishna, Buddha,
                                                  Brahma or Allah, 
If this is my philosophy, my tradition, my history
                                                      and my culture,
                                    Do we have to be enemies?

                              NO! A million times NO!
                                               

3.

Please, look at me with new eyes and through away
                                         your injurious prejudices,
What do you see but a person like you who wants,
                     Desires and hopes the same things in life:
Happiness, family, well-being, a home, some friends,
                                                                Some love,
Look! I walk, I talk, I eat, I sleep, I dream, I laugh and
                                                              I cry, just like you,
I’m born, I grow up, I learn, I suffer, I bleed and
                                                             I die, just like you,
I’m a father, a mother, a brother, a sister, a son, a daughter,
                                                                          Just like you,
You see, we are alike, we are the same, we are
                                                              BROTHERS!


4.

Listen to me my neighbor, my friend, my ally,                                                                   
I am telling you the truth:
We are victims of schemes well- planned in advance,
By deceitful, evil-hearted men who wished,
Your distraction and mine, 

They: masters of savage forgery, dividers
                                                           Of mankind,
Have tricked us throughout history with
                                                  Well-orchestrated lies,
And with treacherous stories, these intellectually impotent
                                                                       criminals,
Have instilled tons of poison in your heart and
                                                            mine,
Thus, by cultivating hatred, bitterness and
                                                             rage,
Managed to shape us to ruthless foes, to merciless enemies,
                                                                   To cruel animals,
Please, listen to me! It is true! We are
                                                           BROTHERS!


5.

Let us, therefore, with irresistible will cross all frontier
                                                                            lines,
That the past has erected between us, thus making divisions
                                                                             Vanish.

                                                                                 
Let us, with supreme power, break the bonds of history,
Religion and culture and run into each- others arms,

Let us uproot, from our tormented hearts, thorny mistrust
That was planted there thousands of years ago,

Let us seize ammunition from distractive hatred
 And make war capitulate,

Let us sink the cholera of bitterness in the affectionate sea
Of universal brotherhood and finally,

Let us unite and march to higher claims, to incomparable glory,
Where peace can blossom today,

Thus, both of us my brother, AT LAST! Will go to sleep,
Fearless of each other tonight!

                                                                           
  ©    Demetrios Trifiatis
           08 June 2013




                                                                           



Long poem by Les Pruitt | Details |

Architects of Humanitarian Crises

Copyright © 2008 #03
4/12/2008 // (Edited: 1/22/2013/lp
(a historical glimpse of humanity's rise)

*This poetic epic begins with the
greatest sin against humanity

*This poem is dedicated to all
serving and protecting the
¨Basic Rights of Mankind¨

Once, mankind was forgiven from sin
but continue to embrace it like a trend

After the Flood many nations strolled
some didn´t want true history told

All mankind has got to realize
humanity had been vandalized

A few condemmed HIM to a Cross
and mankind became a hope lost

His testimony was like no other
a promise bonding men as brothers

So, was it hate, shame or pride?
The Shroud of Turin now abide

Something embedded itself into minds
their egos separated mankind thru time

From images of Christ to the Sphinx
mankind altered their faces with ink

Societies increased across the land
but some became marauding bands

Enslaved many to learn their ways
called indentured servants nowadays

Learning finally opened many minds
forbidden to most throughout time

Conquering became a lust
many thought they must

Barbarians embraced warfare
believing in war over prayer

Some journeyed to build
but most decided to steal

Robbing nations precious gold
slaughtering the young, and old
another story that was not told

Saw oppressing others was nice
ensnared some as their sacrifice

Oppression increased in the land
because of the barbarian's plan

Their business began to boom
and corruption shot to the moon

America, land of morality and hope
still someone was signing for dope

Capital´ism made a few very rich
sin and immorality, Islam tried to fix
paganism and Communism a glitch
a conflict to shove Christianity in a ditch

Old governments embraced the Klan
still got history's blood on their hand.

Kept society busy with Santa Claus
knowing its origin is spiritually false

They knew global warming was real
maybe too late, this just sent a chill

Interested learning secrets of the brain
Drug gangs driving societies insane

Kids with little future left in sight
hopes dwindled like the Knight

Then, later came Robin Hood
with good news from the wood

Someone revived human rights
still, some decided not to fight

No need for humantarian crises
diabolical plans rolling the dices

These sinful plans between hands
slaughtering the lambs of the land

We need to fix this mess
before we come to rest

Most of  world history twisted
some are now rying to fix it

For some Nations, it was too late
capital'ism quickly sealed their fate

Africa was a continent very rich
...now realizing it is in a ditch
never should´ve trusted Mitch

I even heard the Rossette Stone
was hidden in someone´s home

The secrets of Giza
painted in Mona Liza

Even the Eyptian Sphinx
tried to give mankind a wink
now hides her missing links

And, the pyramids contained a sacred Key
stolen by those not wanting us to be free

Someone hide Pandora´s Box
with final desination Fort Knox

Even, saw the Bible's Holy Grail
shipped by Fed-Ex Express Mall

Most gold, and precious artifacts
was found stolen, and hijacked

It´s hard for most to understand
they kept us busy with their plan

So, in this life we must cast our vote
moving forward with faith and hope

Those affected have become a scorn
got them hungry from dusk to dawn

World economies causing a recess
ego and pride got us in a big mess

The Middle East became a feast.
I wonder who planned that piece?

They say Mohammed started this fuss.
through history who dare finger Guss?

These differences in world religions
still affecting mankind's decisions

Humanity began in Africa and Irak
but millions destituted in a shack

The Americas to China has similiar pain
but yrants' view them as a social stain

And, there was oil for food
but someone became rude

So, once again East meets West
fighting over another treasure chest

Expenses reaching trillions
recovery costing billions
death in the millions

The greatest gift is charity
why concentrate on disparity?

We need to fix this mess
or earth soon to rest

Mismanagement of world funds
resources available by the tons

The poor and depair need more
still someone's locking the door

Feeling no guilt with pride
and the fortunes they hide

Corruption and terrorism sown
by a few of government´s own

Someone´s selfish plans ahead
have now made us very afraid...
maybe baked or nuked instead

Distitute's nourishment is baked dirt
nothing else or their stomachs hurt

Most of the time with nothing to eat
weeping for a peaceful night sleep

The 3 pathways to Heaven are narrow
selfish can learn from the sparrow.

When the next ATOM splits and divide
some gonna try to run and hide
knowing they deceived many and lied

So, don´t worry about a thing tonight
soon GOD will make things alright

Then, all children will be able to play
The Prince of Peace will come to stay

So, remember before it´s over
they too needed a shoulder

by: LP


Long poem by T Wignesan | Details |

Is there an Exclusive All-in-One Principle

        
  ‘ In general, quantum mechanics does not predict a single definite result for an observation. Instead, it predicts a number of  different possible outcomes and tells us how likely each of these is. ‘

 
Which side of the Wolf-coin are we looking at

                  the red or the green

           
                                 nothing then is certain

not even death but the life one endures

             
 quarks protons neutrons electrons bosons

particles like men and beings in general

                                             bathe not necessarily in the same lifeless soup

         great teachers or rather teachers with great followings

     those that always attract those who prefer to let others do the thinking  for them

         especially through transcendentally transmitted interstellar telegraphy

                 would want us believe

                                             there’s just This One

  and all comes and goes to That Only ONE

        
If only it were just as simple as that

Then what is it that This One wants

Or is It caught up in its own caveat

And must of needs come apart

        on the seed that It alone plants

 
                           and do what we may

   nothing goes wrong

            whatever the explanation

everybody is right

right from the start

 

         Big Bang from a tight-fisted unfurling hand

         Big Crunch to a crushing tightening stranglehold

and out again

         for the Brahma Day

and after aeons the Brahma Night

 
And at the stillstanding blackhole singularity

         neither space nor time

            squeezed in and out

Birth as in Death

An eventual point of total extinction

        if ever there was one

 
Yet always the two extremes

      and the ever-changing in-betweens

Matter versus Anti-Matter

Here the Yang is not lkely to be set againt the Yin

Though matter itself is neither

Is nor Is-Not-ness

         And the 96% Dark Matter

          And the infinite number of parallel universes

Does it really matter

                                        when

 
         ‘ … if you meet your antiself, don’t shake hands !

            You would both vanish in a great flash of light.’                   

 
Vanish into what

                                    Dark matter

or just non-dark matter

 
Still the duality of matter

Still the ever-changing conundrum

 
              Everything moves jostles couples alters reproduces destructs

        self-destructs
 

         ‘Sex is emotion in motion.’

 
Emotion erupts

           into thin air

      into where

Dark air

 
Motion disrupts

         and roots one here

      tied to the lunar year

 
       why should it matter

if we cannot know the reason why

ego id libido

drive faith fame femme father future

 
if super/alter ego connects the ego

       to the collective unconscious 

     
       why drown the self in the Great Self

by wilful act

       when the Ultimate One

is the sum of all the little ones

 
Is the Original One incapable of absorbing all the ones

each of whom must move to eat drink sleep

copulate make money grow roots in a society

get and fight to keep a job

make love marry raise children

struggle to keep one’s wife one’s children        

one’s house  if one can get one

one’s career one’s future

and helter-skelter race to cheat death

 
If it’s the self-same thing that’s being born anew

What does it matter if it keeps changing in view

Of the desperate haste with which everything

We see smell hear feel intute sense

Keeps hurtling away from the Ding an Sich

And leaves us with a parochial Milky Way

Bastardised stealthily by grandiose Andromeda        

Left retrograded entwined within measely galaxy clusters 

Through some trillion cataclysmic light years

 
What’s the impulse to keep moving

Is the yogi’s stilled-centre

The death of all action

Which cannot call for a reaction

Or is the art of keeping still

Merely the art of making belief

 

          ‘…actors act out the pun that life is the art of acting

until your performed role becomes your normal character.

Then you are safe inside your character armour.’

 

As soon as you have thought It out

It turns around and re-structrures Itself inside out

                 and you know just why

                                                               don’t you now

 

References to the quotations

Stephen W. Hawking, A Brief History of Time : From the Big Bang to Black Holes, London-New York, 1988.

Ibid.

Attributed to Mae West.

Eric N. W. Mottram,  « Men & Gods : A Study of Eugene O’Neill », Encore (London), 1963.

I’m not sure the « re-structuring » bit at the end comes from
Steven Weinberg or John Gribbin, or perhaps even from Fred Allan Wolf ?

 

© T. Wignesan – Paris, 2005 ; rev. 2012. From the collection : Poems Omega-Plus, 2005.


Long poem by Matt Ancient | Details |

Religion or Nature

Each and every day, mankind search to find out that which exist and that which is to happen., thus the destiny of mankind. it is reality as a human beings to know and understand the beginning of the universe and what really happened.with this we as humans can predict or forecast the future and the destiny of mankind. so many scientific solutions and religious ideas have erupt for the past 2000 years and beyond to seek and understand life and how it began.
for man cannot live without tracing or finding out his origin and his mission on earth, his visions and destiny. even though there have been many scientific studies which may be true or lie about the universe and how it began. life and the history of mankind. so have there been so many religious illusions. for there is no concrete evidence to prove the mysteries of the universe and the cliches surrounding life and humanity.

To science the planet evolved from volcano and turned into lands for human habitat. and man was an Ape who evolved to be humans. but even though Apes have heads, nose, mouth, ears and creep on two toes and have the like of humans, they can never evolved to be humans no matter how far time travels, because biologically this cannot be true, because the human genes is far different from that of an Ape and other living creatures on earth, all living things produce their own kind and no matter the climatic condition or how far time travels Apes can never evolve to human form or have it behavior , feelings or sensitivity. neither can an Ape can reproduce human beings as it offspring. nor acquire any knowledge, skill or intelligence to be humans. However man should not be ignorant about how scientific studies have brought the human world and how helpful it has been to help in clearing of the cliches and illusions caused by other ideologist.it has been a blessing rather curse, it has provided the basics of the study of our cosmic system. but it has still not provide us with answers about the questions we ask.
 
 And to religion god used six days to create the universe and used the seventh day to create man with clay,which is Adam and removed his ribs to create Eve which is the first woman and by them all the entire human race were born.Even though there are several questions to ask, but we humans have lived with this for several year.
this brings us to wither Adam and Eve are the first man and woman on earth and the cliches or the story about them being the parent of the human race or entire genealogy of the human race.
and how come a world of several race of man produced by just two people. in the world today there are about six(6) different races in the world. so how true is it as religion claims to know the beginning of man and his destiny on earth.
let us not forget that god has given man the power to understand and makes decisions on his own, to find out the truth and that which exist.

The Question?
now if Adam and Eve were the first man and woman on earth, were they Black or whites, brown, yellow or red or were they Africans, Arabians,Europeans, Indian,Chinese or Red Indians decent.and how can these two people give birth to all these different races.and If they were Africans, how come two African can produce an Indian race or the Arabian race. Neither can an European and African reproduce a Chinese or a Red Indian. Neither can a Chinese and European reproduce an African, a Chinese or Red Indian, no matter the climatic condition or no matter how far time travels. Biologically the idea of Adam and Eve being the first man and woman created by god is wrong and has no fact to prove.
Genetics has proven that even though two races can mate and reproduce but they will reproduce a similar kind or it behaviors. Neither can magic, miracles or by any other religious means can this be true.

The aim of this research is to provide evidence and fact, which will be the basis in research, in other discover who truly mankind is, his destiny on earth. how did the universe began. that by this the future generation will know and understand what exist and the true world that nature has given mankind. in other to find a better destiny for mankind. This is beyond religion, race, nationality and age or other wise in search of freedom and happiness, a true world for all mankind from generation to generation.
The question is being asked and man need answers. Are we to live with this or to believe in this and for how long are we to live with this mystery. For we must decide for ourselves, the well being of humanity lies on our shoulder, which direction or way are we to go. We need to educate ourselves, research to discover and uncover life and nature. 
For Adam and Eve might exist but they are not the genealogy of the entire human race but that of Abraham and the Israelite and not the human race.


Long poem by matthew harris | Details |

Letter to taeljejohn

uncomfortableness, and hesitation arose that you might reassess a possibility for friendship or.... whatever with me.

A disappointment set in place in the event that based on some facet of my being (inexplicable flaws within this corporeal human male), forecast that an about face (booked on charges inherent in this googly eyed, earth-linked, kool hotmail of a yahoo) would be un liked!

Juno what i mean? 

In retrospect, no matter that this average boyish chap desires enjoyment, he admits that ordinary punctuating various stages of development difficulty coping found him msn (miss sin, missin, missing, et cetera) on ordinary interpersonal experiences!

No matter yours truly usually finds me each morning, noon or night conjuring up maximizing temporary residence on this planet earth versus bemoaning those futile and essentially counterproductive mind games sans could a, might a, should a, would a...

today = the moment to cherish, enjoy, help others, ponder the remaining years
since fruitless to expend tears
for suppressed emotional, financial, grammatical, hormonal, physical, and spiritual angst
 that roiled mine inner sanctum - mainly from decades in the past
   which unseen scars with humor this fellow (who by the way likes you) wears!

Notice the sly inclusion of my comment per -- affinity, desirability, rhapsody for you
although just but a mere inkling prevails about an ye taelje john thru
a rather contrived manner - albeit an online adult oriented website - amongst a slew
which yields to this bipedal hominid a scant few
initial responses - as if a ghost app paired in the recipient email - going boo
which unwittingly seems to turn the ivy blue!

So...no matter a constancy of follow-up electronic communiques occurs from ye
bringing tears of joy, that nobody can see
while simultaneously delivering digital glee
a reality check restrains proclivity and predilection to let thoughts run wild and free!

Immense and immeasurable mounts in moi little rock
inducing an electric arc for myself to kin neck embedded in all this schlock
for a sixth sense arises that this holme body strongly suspects yar self 
 to generate sunny watts as an s spy she lee Sherlock

but, reticence to gush with ebullience reins in a cascade
of utter delight washing o'er this less than satisfactory mwm 
 who as a boy and youth happened to b a frayed
of his own shadow - while walking along the boulevard of broken dreams
 listening to the sounds of silence on a green-day.

Thus => the following from one 

Cerebral being ™ in the am and pm
 
This ordinary human
Finds himself a mystery
Within the terrestrial
Firmament and frequently
Feels in a feverish pitch
At his existence
That seers the temple
Mounted upon this slender
Frame - wrought by the
Combination of genetics
In tandem with exercise
Which latter helps to
Sublimate the coiled 
Tension wound tightly 
Like an indestructible spring 
Without a healthy medium at large 
To channel emotions fraught within
Me might find demise
That would rent asunder literate fellow 
And thus annihilate without a trace
One true valued father of two us special
Lovely lasses as just another statistic among 
The obituaries!
 
As the world turns (indiscriminately oblivious of the harrowing days per one simian), an agreeable, amiable, edible, immeasurable, likeable, pleasurable, sensible woman (such as yourself - predicated on a gut level intuition) goads more seriousness to share

Plaintive unheard heart strings o mine that wail
Displeased with this marriage fraught with travail
As if in a maelstrom whip-lashed vessel without a sail
Yet - averse to lambaste or rail
Against abby (whereby we pass like two ships in the night) who married this male
When each of us happened to seem more similar 
   And thought each ourselves to fail
At any endeavor, though now confidence 
   Buoys my heart while she doth ail

And exemplifies attitudes, beliefs, efforts, 
   Idiosyncrasies, pathos that life does rot
Ill suited to Matthew Scott, 
   Whose bon vivant manifesting faith in him
   Perhaps from herself deferring many domestic 
   And child rearing tasks not
Of course being boasting - even when scissoring the umbilical cord
   As a now beaming papa, whose daughters 
   Blithely ignore "mother" a lot
Thus necessitating this quest 
   For a counterpart to offer succor 
   To eden (age 16) and shana (14 on february 4th, 2013) 
   Yet accepts that i must dispel any dreamy fantasy even this ours - a mere jot
At this juncture knowing full well how unwise to set myself up for disappointment
   By thinking and rushing like a fool, 
   Where angels fear to tread
   Though "chutzpah" i got!

U r slowly filling my mindscape with joy
Thank you so much - for accepting without complaint how atypically words this writer wannabe 
   Named Matthew Scott Harris dozen ploy.



Long poem by Gerald Kithinji | Details |

Give Peace A Chance Part 1

Like the twelfth
juror in the play
I must say I am not
convinced
For I know a recipe
for trouble 
I have seen the
double standards
And I do not approve
this for Kenya
I will never approve
it, and neither
Would you, dear
friend of Kenya
If you saw what I
most clearly see, 
For you, too, know a
recipe for ire
That promptly
transforms into dire
Consequences for
those unwary
Of the machinations
of self-interest

These are myriad,
the machinations  
And Africa is
totally unprepared
Just like South
America for
centuries
For we have
forgotten the real
heroes
And think our
enemies are they who
bled
To free Africa, for
in our minds they
looted
A few inches of our
land for their
kinsmen
A current
unforgivable outrage
indeed 

And yet there were
those of Africa
Who, routinely,
betrayed our
struggle 
To rid Africa of
colossal colonial
vestiges
These we have
forgiven and moved
on
For ‘tis not right
that we should be
stuck
In a time-warp or
worse through
ineptitude 

Now we have
‘liberators’ who
daily oppress
Erstwhile liberators
in the hope of
usurping
The liberation
struggle and
supplanting it 
With a breed that
totally ignores the
history
That was written
with the blood of
our people.

 For them, the
ultimate sacrifice, 
Deserving the
ultimate accolade
Is this deformed
limb of yesterday
Not the sixty plus
years of servitude
I shudder at the
thought, I do, I do
Brother, for I know
full well the truth
It is not to be
found in this lie,
this lie
I say, it cannot be
found here, no!
We are busy
negotiating the
truth
For we know not what
the truth is
And the more we
negotiate 
The further we get
from it
The more we seek
assurance 
The less certain we
get, brother
I can see that,
brother, I can see
And so can you,
brother, if you look

If you look inward
and seek the truth

You cannot negotiate
the truth with
strangers
You cannot seek
retribution through
strangers
For, strange though
it sounds,
encouragement 
From outsiders has
an outside chance of
success
If it undermines the
inside view, the
local input
I see that happening
here, my brother, I
see it
And I’m saddened,
for I wish it were
not so
I long for a
permanent
understanding
A permanent truce, a
permanent pact
And this can only
come from within
Not from without,
never, never! 
 
What have we learned
from the Middle East
conflict?
What have we learned
from the Congo
conflicts?
What have we learned
from the Iraq
conflict?
What have we learned
from global
conflicts?

Nothing? And so the
conflicts continue!
Learn something and
dissolve your ire
In a locally brewed
long-term quencher
That the communities
involved can own
And claim to have-
as the only solution
With local
mechanisms of
enforcement
And universally
acceptable local
censure

The Hague process is
a poor remedy 
For a supposed
conflict that did
not exist
A swift sweep of
dirt under the
carpet
Of politics, power,
greed, retribution
By the very
protagonists who
will fuel
Future conflicts in
the same zone, yes,
I do not claim to
know all or even
most
But this I do know,
we are all watching
Our kinsmen dancing
on a volcano!
And the world will
say, as it has
always,
That this is savage
Africa at work as
usual
Yet I know and you
know that it is not.

It took Europe over
a hundred years
To settle down, nay,
longer, much so
For when was it that
Napoleon reigned
And Bismark sought
to annex France			
And Adolf Hitler
thought he was God?
In the 19th century
Europe experienced
Twenty one revolts
and uprisings
And twenty six full
blown wars
From the Irish
Rebellion of 1803
To the Greco-Turkish
War of 1897

The twelve year
Napoleonic Wars 
The Serbian
uprisings 
The Russo-Persian
wars
French invasion of
Spain 
The War of the
Malcontents 
The Russo-Turkish
and Liberal Wars
The Tithe War, the
Albanian Revolts 
The Galisian
Slaughter, the
Carlist Wars
The Albanian
Revolts, the Mahtra
War,
The Hungarian
Revolutionary War of
Independence
The sixteen year
Wars of Italian
Independence
The Schleswig Wars,
the Crimean War
The Epirus and
Cretan Revolts
The Austro-Prussian
War
The Franco-Prussian
War
The Russo–Turkish
War 
The Greco–Turkish
War
The Serbo-Bulgarian
War
The Cod (not Cold)
War
What kind of war did
they not fight?
Is it not by the
Grace of God
That they can claim
European unity
And play football in
the same league






Long Poems