Best On The Basis Poems
Jungle Drums
Well known was Molly by gossips
Words fell so easy from her lips
They always found ready ears
Revered was she amongst her peers
A casual meeting Molly made
Good conversation she displayed
Invited then to mothers meeting
Where received a rapturous greeting
For all the ladies gathered there
Knew Molly had a tale to share
About the folk at forty eight
Procured across a garden gate
Passed along tongue to tongue
It must be right, it can’t be wrong
Second hand, thrice removed
Each time the details are improved
Behind her curtains, Mrs Rose
Who sees all that comes and goes
From her shadowy oasis
Offers Molly on the basis
What she tells her will be treated
With respect and not repeated
Knowing only far to well
Molly cannot wait to tell
Everyone she knows
All she’s gleaned from Mrs Rose
And Peg the paper shop assistant
Said “It’s true”, she was insistent
She had heard the news confirmed
By Mrs Smith, who had learned
About the tale and of course
From a most reliable source
It’s not hard to understand
How she holds them in her hand
Like ducklings on a pond to feed
Molly delivers to their greed
Her listeners are now captivated
By her words uncomplicated
Said with such simplicity
Masked by dark duplicity
Who would believe, ill intent
From a face, so innocent
Having spilled out all her news
Others offered up their views
Ever wilder each new claim
Fending, proving, placing blame
Then Ginger Adams put her spoke in
“ I had heard, “She’s done her bloke in”
With a glare from Molly’s eye
Ginger just wanted to die
For she had not learnt quite yet
Where the sights they should be set
Which appears to be somewhere
Between uncaring and unfair
With no way to recognize
Which be truth and which be lies.
Please forgive the implication that this behaviour is
exclusive to the fairer sex, it is simply for the purposes
of this write. I have known men that easily equal any
woman in this sphere of life, and be just as catty, hahahha
(on the basis of Max Ehrmann’s Desiderata)
Be calm, because it's vanity of vanities,
reach harmony taking a truce.
Be generous, despite “in vino veritas”
all in the world forget the truth.
Remember that all have their rights –
an ignoramus here or there a fool.
And are you right with all your stereotypes?
So, take then theirs in blood cool.
For evil leave that everlasting fall,
obsequiousness and arrogance – a fuss;
As all affected will be ground at all
by millstones-years first or last.
And give yourself up to a labor of love,
depends itself on you your destiny.
In lieu of victor's wreath a head above
will be a crown of thorns eventually.
But if one day some utter fraud
floods flourishing in blossom land,
let it not devastate your soul
with all abstracted from your bank.
Remember, love is never bought,
you'd better flirt with haughty divas,
in style be good at getting old,
as all the beauty fades with years.
Enjoy the time not passing by,
this moment's not reversible.
Strengthen your spirit to be high,
your fears all alleged impossible.
At last a child you're of the universe,
as those trees, stars and our heaven.
You're given to explore your place,
though you take all for gospel ever.
Your God – it's peace within your soul,
you, cherish as the apple of your eye.
Let it be love here in a cottage small,
and be vivacious till you die.
Mahammad Fuzuli (1494-1556)
Mahammad Fuzuli, the poet-philosopher, is one of the founders of the divan genre in the history of Azerbaijani and Turkish literature. He wrote his works in three languages (Turkish, Arabic, Persian) in the genres of ghazal, qasida, musaddas, tarkib-band, tarji-band and rubai.
The poem "Leyli and Majnun", which is regarded as the peak of his creativity, is among the rare pearls of Azerbaijani, Eastern and world poetry. The opera of the same name written by Uzeyir Hajibeyli, the famous Azerbaijani composer and playwright, on the basis of the masterpiece of Fuzuli, is considered to be the First Opera of the Muslim East.
Moreover, “Fuzuli Cantata” was written by the well-known composer Jahangir Jahangirov in 1959, based on the ghazal “My love has tired me of my life – will she not tire of cruelty?”. The ghazal, translated by the British-American historian Bernard Lewis into English, has been included in his book “Music of a Distant Drum: Classical Arabic, Persian, Turkish, and Hebrew Poems”.
My love has tired me of my life – will she not tire of cruelty?
My sigh has set the spheres on fire-will not the candle of my
passion burn?
On those faint and fail for her, my love bestows a healing drug
Why does she give none to me; does she not think that I am
sick?
I hid my pain from her. They said tell it to your love.
And if I tell that faithless one - I do not know, will she believe,
or will she not?
In the night of separation, my soul burns, my eyes weep blood.
My cries awaken: does my black fate never wake?
Against the rose of your cheek, red tears stream from my eyes.
Dear lover, this is the time of roses, will not these flowing waters cloud?
It was not I who turned to you but you who drove my sense away.
When the fool who blames me sees you, will he not be put to shame?
Fuzuli is a crazy lover and a byword among folk.
Ask then what kind of love is this – of such a love does he not hire?
Colour me,yellow,white,black, or red,dont
discriminate me,
For my blood is same like yours!
Just do enough to stamp out,
racism,intolerance and xenophobia.
Respect all nationalities,religious backgrounds,
sexual orientation and ethnic origins.
None of us chose their skin colour,
we found skin colours on us.
They were given to us by the Almighty,
why judging me because of my skin colour;
No one is good or bad on the basis of skin colour.
chipepo lwele
There is no beauty in death
Not a lack of, but none at all
Death is a hunter, a fierce one at that
You and I are mere prey
From the moment of birth
When you take your first breath
It is beside your bed to introduce itself as death
“Hi, I’m the reaper. I sow not,
But I reap as I please
And harvest time is to me not a limit”
Whether fetus, infant, child or adult death claims
And there are no missed targets when it aims
There is not beauty in death
Not a lack of, but none at all
A fierce hunter it is
You and I are mere prey
It mocks the tears of happiness
From a mother who just delivered a babe
Because to death another pawn has been added to its game
And NO! Death does not discriminate on the basis of age,
Nationality, weight or even race
It takes no pride it its methods, it doesn’t do it for fame
Whether it’s by accident, deliberate or even AIDS
Death sees no beauty in it; it just lays its claim
So there is no beauty in death
Only sorrow, heartache and pain
And the pointing finger often wanders
For a subject to defame
But in the end we only have death to blame
There is no beauty in death
Not a lack of, but none at all
A stalking hunter it is
You and I are just mere prey
So what is the point of it all, this life?
If not tragedy and strife
With all the happiness you can gather in this life
You’re always an inch away from the edge of the knife
A step away from the abyss of eternity
And yet we swim against the tides relentlessly
Stealing a moment of reflection in introspection
Hoping for perfection
Or even a slight detection of beauty in this life
And YES! There is beauty in life
We’re just not meant to stay long enough to could own it
We swim against the tides relentlessly
An amassed waste of time and energy
Because when death comes
It relegates you to just a memory
And even that fades with time
As you’re swept away beneath tides
There is no beauty in death
Not a lack of it, but none at all
A ruthless hunter it is
You and I are mere prey
My ASPIRATIONS were TOUCHING the sky!
NOTHING could stop the way this would FLY!
EVERYTHING was on track...or so it did seem-
but....
"It Was The Build Up To A Fallen Dream!"
My VISION was FURTHER than the eye could see
Nothing...there was NOTHING that was going to STOP me!
Of ALL the crops of ideas.... "THIS WAS THE CREAM"-
but....
"It Was The Build Up To A Fallen Dream!"
My PURPOSE had meaning on ROCK solid ground!
It was DESIGNED on the basis to be SAFE and sound!
NO better motive could there be NOR a theme-
but....
"It Was The Build Up To A Fallen Dream!"
The DRIVE was INTENSE and driven to SUCCEED!
I COVERED all my bases-what MORE would I need?
It was TAKING OFF with a FULL head of steam-
but....
"It Was The Build Up To A Fallen Dream!"
My ASPIRATIONS, my VISIONS, my PURPOSE and my DRIVE-
ALL of these made me feel SO alive!!!
THIS WAS THE PINNACLE.... the ULTIMATE SUPREME....
alas....
"It Was The Build Up To A Fallen Dream!"
(WTA-IV)
Neighbour likes to look into the neighbour's nest.
they want to know what's happening wrong or best?
they regard them on the basis of their assessments,
they share sadness or happiness to celebrate refreshments.
sometimes progress made them mad they nail hate,
in the absence of parents they abuse children for dates.
Slaves to Perception….
Perception is influenced by probability judgments formed on the basis of earlier actions performed in similar situations
And I think I know
As much as I know of a triangle and breathed in the number three, all of this unto me all of this unto me.
If the premise was true the conclusion was true,
But how would I know the conclusive evidence: that product which is truth when the addends divulged were false, and the addends are always false as truths evolve and reemerge as new philosophies…
And Even as a poet I have learned from a defamed philologist that words get in the way…
The sum of it all is out there somewhere in the ether… floating aloft in a grey heather or the black vastness of space
Aloft a mist or rather it is a mystery
just
JUST clanking, ringing along in eternity with all those other eternal truths just beyond my knowing…
I derived a conclusion, intuited from a premise… like a hound to a fox…yet red herrings abound when you’re around… and I chase logical fallacies and grab kite’s strings…that pull me along with the rhythm the beat of your pulse,
If the woman is sick she will vomit,
If she vomited, she was poisoned.
In similar situations, the premises are all smoke and mirrors and the looking glass no clearer through the dregs of Domain Romanee Conti products…I saw your one eye peer at me…sizing me up outwitting me poking jest at love: that tomfoolery.
And simple biological permutations of something that renders itself as love is what you seek and what I know to be the opinion of each is different for all the same reality. If we assign meaning in our own minds to each act--an action of reality-- Why then would it matter to engage? To indulge and assign meaning and perception to anything? That simply enslaves us all.
But how long should I flog myself?
Even when all else choose to beat me silly.
Or, if life be justified to change,
Should justice now lead to the gallows?
When I’ve only chosen to live life.
Or, is it just that I suffered dis-applaud
For living life on the basis of was is justified?
And if all else choose to flog me,
If all else choose not to reason my way,
Should I also flog myself?
And if so, for how long?
How long should I flog myself
When in my bid to live out the justice of life,
I am confronted with the injustice of men.
@SEPTEMBER 2017/©M.H.O.G Unveiled
Enemys throughout, the day they very met
fighting tooth and nail,with both warrior hearts
dominance of the town,being the ultimate prize
hatred adding fuel,enlighting inferno to prevail.
My best pal from knee high,would rather do without
the confrontations hanging on him
i will call the oppostion shaun, although fine with me
thriving fear,bullying yet an awesome stature.
The fatal night in question,etched in many minds
a long long fight ended,my pal oblivious towards
a knife was placed into his hand,while recieving extreme beating
lashed out,everything stopped,pal overcome with relief.
At court not guilty verdict,the jury did return
on the basis of harrassment, and all that it entailed.
Yet families effected,can see it from both sides
loss and freedom,though my pal lives with everyday.
Paul Beadnall
Sponsor Susan Burch
Contest Name Getting Away with Murder/Murderous Thoughts
A hero is just that lost in the suace proned to devastation
A barrage of intense flames loosed in its politically incorrect agenda
Sought back the upheavel with a smile still to know all the great while
A chalice is just that in some absurd excursion plotted to the extreme
The inevitable remedy with hearts on the upswing
Through the complacency proned to decency
The upmost honesty to endeavor the braided swelt of heat
In an illusion prond to twilight fantasy in its eternity
The inner plight of justification & sensitivity
Gone our the days we used to frolic in a haze
Today we are all being stuck inside a maze
Shattered dreams in the notion of fright to sight
In scrambled eggs inside the equation
You base your logical theories on the basis of regret
All the hero's and legend we knew as a child have left
In random discourse,
We felt the sound of innocence in the right perspective
Shattered fragments in their devastation in dreams
A flight of fancy & brevity
The cause of charity
In its equated logical fashion We absorbed the extremitites
Many today suffer in silence amidst its blindness
With temples of gloom shattered fragments in their room
Lost!
Racists beat some other racists, bigots hate some other bigots
Gunman kill some other gunman, thieves deceive some other thieves
Politicians of both parties share the views that must divide them
But they hate each other madly, cause the people love this circus
And they do the show on purpose to get votes and fly away
No fanfares for the common in the search of sheer perfection
There is so much imperfection everybody can’t believe
They are multiplied one person, cloned from a forgotten sample
On the basis of resemblance they can’t tolerate all that
And they give a deadly fight to the copies of their type
Would you like to join the battle or its better just to watch them
Sitting in the comfy armchair, thinking of the cloudy sky
In the world of competition I don’t have enough ambition
I don’t want an expedition to the jungles of the lost
I’m incurious for nation, immigration and salvation
Give me less of variation, and lets finish on this note
I’m a mouse of every fable eating crumbles from a table
Drinking tea and playing rummy in the middle of the night
I’m a line in cubist painting, broken down and nearly fainting
I’ll be happy just to vanish in the damp of morning air.
Hey, I've always been ***** for the Men at the Top,
It is something to which I can cheerfully cop.
They're my Pharaohs and Saviors all rolled into One;
I, like, pee in my pants when I see what They've done.
Well, I'd committed my share of despicable crimes
As reported back then in the Nueva York Times
For my part in arranging Establishment's doom
By concocting a way to make buildings go "Boom!"
But I got a reprieve from the full forty years
And secured a nice job filling students with fears
Of the evil designs of their Capitalist dads
And assuring they'll soon go the way of all fads.
See, I studied the habits of parasites well
In the time I had served in my bleak prison cell
And I saw that the way to defeat my old Foe
Was to work from within to take over the show.
As I sit here and twist my moustache with great glee
I can dream of the day when my minions and me
Have corrupted the souls of the rest among you
Who once loved so-called "liberty", "truth" and "virtue".
So the Cancer long known as the Communist Cause
Is entwining itself here in our country's laws
We'll just take what we want from the ones who work hard
And enjoy what they're pathetically striving to guard.
You can cry and complain 'til you're blue in the face
But we'll just say it's all on the basis of race.
There's no way you can win, it's all useless, you know;
You've grown weak, and your skills at debate really blow.
Though you pray to your "god" for a last-minute save,
It's your spawn who shall savagely stomp on your grave.
They'll be taught that the Czar is the Way and the Word
And the will to be "free" is completely absurd.
Lies on Resumes
By Elton Camp
A coach has been caught again
Resume lies aren’t the way to win
When a college degree on it we see
The absolute truth it had better be
Employment prospects it will kill
A credential from a diploma mill
Lies on half of all resumes we find
They must think the employer blind
Very foolish is the one who tries
To be hired on the basis of lies
Even if it should work at first
The inflated resume will burst
The employee will leave with shame
A lasting black mark against his name
Not long to go now until we are
told we will know
How the next 4 year's are bound
to pan out
As the way it's been reported on
it's almost like we have a casting
vote or have a say in it ourselves
Bering in mind however or whichever
way it pan's out it is entirely up
to them not us
I highly doubt they care what we think
anyway as they have far more pressing
problems to deal with
And when such a big deal is made
of Russian interference why or how
come we don't feel the need to but
out either
If you believe in the supposition
that the news media are the so
called all knowing visionaries
they proport to be like our very
own BBC
Then this election is moot anyway
And just how much power can
or does a President really wield
in an actual democracy
Only a Dictator who rules by
an iron fist is trully blessed
with the gift of absolute power
Ask any old ordinary folk who lives
in say Russia, China, Iran, Afghanistan
or Saudi Arabia
On the basis of if no one is looking
over there shoulder or they are
reading verbatim from a script
Pause, smile for effect praise
the leader and maybe you will
see your family again