Walk toward darkness and light will follow.
Hallowed grounds, a passage always taken solo.
This state of being has no consciousness nor desire,
rather an unattainable attachment, from the true sire.
This blinded birth, without a mother, a farce indeed,
to allocate wisdom without worry, now all in need.
But from these lonely shadows somehow a halo is summoned,
toward this beam it draws us to what we all have in common.
The consciousness and desire,
travel the road that is higher,
to become an unattached attainable soul
where we all rest in solace, peace and whole.
In a world of festivities, we prioritize the frivolous,
Elevating Valentine's Day, a celebration quite dubious.
February 14th, a day assigned to love's display,
Yet, I refute this notion, for love should be everyday.
In my culture, this celebration reeks of absurdity,
Promoting premature sexuality, a moral calamity.
Should we allocate a day for love's celebration?
Does this imply we've been fostering hatred in iteration?
Even young learners, grades 6 and above, are caught,
In the web of crushes, a trend that's quite distraught.
In Africa, hotel rooms are booked, a Valentine's spree,
Teenagers dominate, leaving one to ponder the decree.
Are we more Catholic than the Pope, in our fervor and zeal?
Valentine's Day, a celebration that love's true meaning does conceal.
So, if you choose to celebrate, do so with reverence and might,
Upholding cultural heritage, and the sanctity of love's light.
Let organizations, schools, and families unite,
Educating teenagers on the dangers of sexual abuse, a love that's not right.
not merely willing but rather eager
to allocate time to hold hands
ego comprehends this not
but heart understands
alive in each moment
awareness of Self at rest
seeing all forms as God’s light
soul’s cocooned in heart’s bliss nest
Seize the day - for it is yours
To make the most and live.
Open your mind and its doors...
You get what you give.
Regardless of your situation
And its circumstances...
Unemployed or occupation?
Both possess their chances.
From the moment you awaken
And arise from sleep,
The day is there to be taken...
For you to sow and reap.
As if a garden bed - each seed
A choice or a decision...
Planted with their need to feed
Under your supervision.
Whether bright and full of sunshine
Or weather wet with rain...
Hot or cold? Either is fine
To keep free from refrain.
Seconds, minutes, every hour...
Time for you to use
And utilise in your devour
However you choose.
If you feel you cannot seize
The day, then take this hint...
Your next is sure to come of ease
Pre-planned in blueprint.
Map your times of day in sections...
Allocate each one
With its own set of directions...
Checking off when done.
From its sunrise to sunset,
Seize the day with capture...
Even if it is to yet
Imply a sense of rapture.
Time of which you cannot borrow...
Life is short and we
Are all not promised tomorrow...
There is no guarantee.
Take a knife to the strings that attach me
Pull out the bridge pins, strum me with drachmae
Maybe then I'd have some worth for you to allocate
Maybe your role in the end was the devil's advocate
A Satanist, not the blatantest
Flown under my radar, the blurb of my memoir
Where will you be when I windup a wreck
Wasting away, misstepping, forgetting, hanging from the cromlech
Wailing of sirens and the echo of 5150
Following the path painted by the whiskey
Always have been a pretty little liar
Introduction to an overanalyzer
Since when did you become so starry-eyed?
Mix my chemical bonds, manipulate me with aldehyde
The stars in your eyes, perhaps sourced from the countryside?
Deactivate my neuronal tracts, just a drop of cyanide
I never thought I'd be one to commit fratricide
Only something you could manage to make glorified
thanks to whomever it may concern
message to the universe
affirmation to myself
it has been good day
nothing less and
quite a bit more
depression is lurking
teasing mocking trying to infiltrate
mind soul and body
playing its ugly tricks and charades
I only know so well
the fangs pricks and gloomy temptations
are ready to see
but at the moment attacks on my self
repel at onslaught at my metaphorical skin
dear depression
I have listened to you and taken on board
what you had to say to me
but just for now you will not be able
to amplify your mad and sad intentions
you have some minor points
however you cannot allocate major depression
not now not for today because
I can see through your malignant ways
Earth glows in the dark like a bauble
Though sometimes its orbit will wobble
In Glasgow they came
To allocate blame
Knowing Scotch can make eagles gobble!
I got my shot and now I’m not
Afraid of waiting for a slot
Like all of those who lost their spot
Since many sites have diddly-squat.
The current scene for the vaccine
Needs government to intervene
For hordes of people who convene
Join lines both long and serpentine.
It isn’t great that every state
Has rules that simply don’t equate
So many wait until the date
Their gov’s have shots to allocate.
It seems a crime that those who climb
To the tops of lists which make them prime
For vaccinations might, big-time,
Decline, their reasons lacking rhyme.
Hovering hemispheres habitual harmonics, symmetrical solitudes in their Sonics,
Mastering melodies with mnemonics, amidst approbation of acoustical avionics…
Stellar symphonies sailing Celestial Seas, applauding Angels aerially appease,
Birds belting songs on tranquil trees, botanical gardens blooming in the breeze;
Superstrings romantically resonate, virtuous vibrations valiant as they create,
Overtures upon oblivions do ornate, spheres of distortions align and allocate…
Orchestral opus overruns the trance, magical melodic maneuvers enhance,
Treble and bass clefs prepare to dance, elocution of their eternal expanse;
The Earth hums within rotation, subsonic frequencies of ethereal elation,
The masses are minstrels of celebration, titillating tunes of temptation…
Solitude's surrender thru strident skies, music awakens deep dormant eyes,
The wings of a butterfly take us to new highs, ambient assonance to arise.
April.23.2020
Grace and Solitude
Sponsored by~John Hamilton
Placed 3'rd...Thank You
Beyond the Heart, the Head and the Soul reigns unsulleable Belief
How he blurted in a moment of self-lacerating glory-be pique
Who will in a thousand years retrieve my poems from digital rot
A thousand years grind grim in fermenting ocean-filth freak
Rather think in terms of a hundred or two twisted tight in knot
By then no scales may balance conflicting efforts set adrift
Wild tsunamis would have raged over lands and cities lying low
And the mighty and the rich abandon ports to set up amont aloft
And none will seek to extend meaning beyond the beclouded glow
None will batter brains split hairs over words poets proudly sow
No conniving committees allocate prizes as at musical-chairs play
Past the highest achievements scientific excellence on us bestow
For neither love nor purity of soul will be Man’s cultural mainstay
For the stunted Psyché still wallows in the Doldrums of Belief
By what we impute to holy Prophets Popes and Poets’ mischief
© T. Wignesan – Paris, November 7, 2019
Pssst Got a Minute?
By: Tom Wright
9/21/01
So inconsequential, our minutes may seem,
They're given to idleness, and oft to daydream.
Rarely do we consider, that increments in time,
When linked with others, make a life sublime.
So allocate time wisely, giving to God each day,
For time is too precious, to let slip away.
I wanted to reject expected pain
So pushed away the feelings of my soul
But as I did not look,they came again.
To unreality, my self was chained
And so I did not see the image whole.
I wanted to avoid expected pain
Such vigilance will bring a sense of strain
And ,too, a story always here,untold
But as I did not look,fear came again.
Then I was afflicted by deep shame
My heart, once full of feeling, turning cold
I wanted to bypass expected pain
Let no human allocate the blame
But life was almost a blocked,I paid such tolls
But as I was afraid,fear came again.
Now I see the best way is the bold
Like the lion who sleeps in the sheepfold
I wanted to reject destructive pain
Imagined visitors kept me in chains
as of December ( 2000)
all request for marriages
are to be expressed in writing by
both Bride and Groom.
these writing are then to
be kept on file by
the church secretary,
and may be viewed by those
member of each family to
have a visual aide, when
church counseling is done
to talk to family member
about certain issues.
see the secretary for further detail's.
member of the banquet committee
are to meet on the third Friday before
Easter. Details of the meeting
is to allocate the funds for the
summer celebration
and the fall celebration.
Fund raisers for each event will be
held during the summer
and the fall.
Our annual steak night will
be held in accordance to the steak rules.
we will hold elections for the new president.
the ballot box will be placed in the dining
room. the election will
be held on Sunday March 4 , if your name
is on the ballot please be in attendance.
Shores of doom
Needn’t engulf the space in your mind
Where without your will gloom
Can’t inhabit until faithless fleas and spiritual sleaze find
Room and space to waylay and slay without delay
The faith you profess to possess
In a spray without a ray stray
Strung and hung when you dispossess
Your faith of the strength and depth
Which faith has sunk into its roots
In each significant step and faith breath
You smuggle and gaggle in the boots
You wear with pride as you deride the loss
You claim not to suffer in the dwarf
You call disbelief and the abandon toss
Spotted in the wharf
Where faith ought to find succor
By virtue of the pride of place
You claim to allocate to the anchor
Faith can’t in your mind squeeze from a disbelief trace in a lace
Shores of doom and gloom striving to mount
On your faith a determined assault
Within a number of sorties you dismount
As conscience pangs claim it’s no longer our fault.
Crossroads prod roads that download and upload quads of queries
Lumped and dumped on our battered bodies by blister berries
Spiced with slices of suppression and subjugation
That in the end neither mend nor amend our conjugation.
Crossroads prod roads that download and upload wads of whims
Whisked and kicked into reams and streams of our dreams
Spiced with slices of surrender without a defender
To prevent vents and tents that land our glands into a blender.
Crossroads prod roads that download and upload squads of sentiments
Sneaked into tricks that kick our caveats and comments
Said with the aid of braids of dread and lead
That pound and ground pain within the brain in our head.
Crossroads prod roads that download and upload triads of tribulations
Located to allocate lots, plots and slots of sneeze speculations
Marinated with cellulite, marmite alongside territory termites
That undulate and perambulate in our tenderness satellites.
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