Best Presumptive Poems
SIXTH SENSE SEDUCTION
In ordinary ways
in ordinary days
I stand before her quite amazed
at her lithe form.
While reaching up to touch a cloud
with naked limbs (it’s all allowed)
Her beauty strikes though not to lure;
to transform me of that I'm sure.
I hear the whispered wind blow through...
to once again say its adieu
...in delicate sound, so very crisp
upon this newly blossomed tryst
like falling leaves that gently touch
a waiting heart.
While still in trance of blessed bliss
I knew that a presumptive kiss
would end this convocation.
And so in silly awkward glee
and truly thinking it was not me
I could not I resist; oh won't you see?
It was not wrong to hug that tree.
CAK 2-14-2013
Spare me ill-considered thoughts
and tales of the enlightened sage
whose very basis of belief
arose in palpable assemblage
one late summer evening
while listening to his ringing ears,
as he lay soaking naked in a tub.
And holy writ of nether world—
its commands and promises
now in language thrice removed—
misunderstood when first uttered
in scarce remembered ancient tongue,
yet presumptive literal masters
hasten to opine.
Absurdities compound,
interstices of mind—
vacuformed and stolid—
deny calm reason’s abstract,
and flee truth’s sanctum,
dogma in their fond embrace,
awash in its decrepitude.
Humanity thus
in thrall of Mesmer’s haunt
sustains a tortured cadence
of greed, dishonesty and graft,
which now in tawdry bloat ascends,
as if arms of gods on the empyrean sphere
would open wide to greet.
Consider well and ponder such severely,
who would transcend the veil,
for wisdom gained and love prolonged
will surely ease the transit.
And those who favored having over being?
Their cherished worth is fled.
Their hubris now dismissed.
As the belief systems implode upon themselves,
as the identities crash to their foundations… I am emptied~
The dark night has, as always, been the creatrix of awakenings~
Death has once again birthed a formless form, an energy spin~
I am the ashes upon the altar of the beloved~
I am the chaos which consummates completion~
I am the beginning and the end and all that lay between~
The spiral dance weaves not for completion,
spins eternity’s web of seeming life and death~
Always coming home, always home…all ways,
even as the trickster comes to sup~
To serve empty eternal promises and presumptive peace~
Presence offers moments of elusive rest between the harsh
breaths of this mortal majesty~
Divine feminine and Holy masculine, united, bound, bonded,
joined as one… paired for the last dance…omega~
Nowhere, Now Here to go.. I go, never having left…
Nothing, No Thing to do, I remain beyond loss and gain~
Be… I Am~
Satprem~
Copyright © 2015
Niitthaar Perumai: The Fundamental Role of the Ascetic, Canto 3 of the Thirukkural-K27 and 28. Translations and Commentary.
K27: kunamenung kunreeri ninraar veguli
kanameeyung kaatthal larithu.
The wrath 'tis hard e'en for an instant to endure
Of those who virtue's hill have scaled, and stand secure. (Tr. G.U.Pope)*
The anger of those who have ascended the mountain of goodness, though it
continues but for a moment, cannot be resisted. (Tr. W.H.Drew & J.Lazarus)*
(*In Pope's book et al, n° K29)
Resist not the visitations of ire of the ascetic who secures his powers by the requisite discipline won only after equivalent efforts at scaling mountain heights (for the consequences will turn out dire). (Tr. T.Wignesan)
K28: ainthavitthaa naarra lakalvisumbu laarkoomaa
ninthiranee saalung kari
Their might who have destroyed 'the five', shall soothly tell
Indra, the lord of those in heaven's wide realms that dwell. (Tr. G.U.Pope)*
Indra himself, the king of the inhabitants of the spacious heaven, is a sufficient proof of the strength of him who has subdued his five senses. (Tr. W.H.Drew & J.Lazarus)*
(*In the respective books of the translators, n° K25)
The very existence of Indra, the King of the gods who rules the endless heavenly spheres, bears testimony to the powers of the ascetic. (Tr. T. Wignesan)
(Here again, there's some wayward proof that Valluvar, the presumptive author of the Thirukkural, was first a Hindu and then perhaps - by adoption - a Jain or a Buddhist ; both these latter religions having flourished - even nation-wide - since the great Maurya emperor Asoka's rule in the sub-continent. See my poem on the poet: "Master Valluvan the long-misunderstood Tamil Mentor" in Rama and Ravana at the Altar of Hanuman: on Tamils, Tamil Literature and Tamil Culture. Allahabad: Cyberwit.net, 2008, 750p. First published by the Institute of Asian Studies, Chennai, 2006, xiii-439p. Also available at PoetrySoup, PoemHunter or OccupyPoetry and in BLIND MAN's LANTERN: Poems that lash out, mock and rip into the dark. Allahabad: Cyberwit.net, 2015, 886p.)
© T. Wignesan - Paris, 2017
Trump Female Voters
Trump female voters with brain and exterior
Do lack intelligence and appear to be inferior
And no matter what they always will seem
Lack any trusty features that try to redeem.
Of their thoughts we have become reticent
Without positive attitude and are complacent
About others feelings and could care less
May be responsible for putting us in a mess.
They are ghoulish always carrying a grudge
Prefer gruesome things not giving a budge
And looks at life as if it is a big, bad dream
Full of misery as it has headed down stream.
About Female Trump voters we find apparent
Taking drugs, smoking and drinking are inherent
Their fear of change can be described as visceral
Like throwing trash and not taking things literal.
If Trump is presumptive candidate we presume
Republicans all did end up sealing their doom
And even if accident was front or a rear-ender
Would insurance company still pay if transgender?
To me regarding Trump what seems so annoying
Way back in time he does continue to be going
Female voters with no minds wanting a miracle
Never do understand any data that is empirical.
Was Data on Star Trek a transgender?
James Thesarious Hilarious Horn
Retired Veteran and Poet
DISVIRGINED TRUTH
We don’t have enough time left to check time
Many left as too much couldn’t get enough
Stranded in the middle of no where with no dime
The lord will provide; yet, journey still too tough
This is a historical case we all presumed
Based on facts fore-known; this is presumptive
Reasonably not the worst we all assumed
Mission not accomplished became abortive.
On air, same plane, different pilots
On a coming together, different cohorts
Our problems too enormous, might capsize us
Engulfed in cloudy flames, critics criticize us
Sin is fun, fun is sin; poison tasting so sweet
Let the apostles wash their heads, Jesus will wash their feet
Time to leave the multitude and reach the altitude
Time to ignore our oppositions and maintain our positions.
Many prophets, same quest, different prophesies
Ambition is priceless, same quest, different emphases
We are here for destiny sake, one mission
Starting to keep moving, confused vision
Time to focus and get it
Our ‘F’ is for forget it
Kiss it and stuck your tongue
Even we are wrong.
...LORDVIP...
It was a gift of history astounding
in its surge upon my afternoon of rest;
in subtlety they came, a basket unannounced,
filled with clusters of presumptive nanoseconds
gathered there before me, raw and wild,
and clearly mine to be.
It was too much, although I knew
that they claimed no solidity and rivaled
none of all the trinkets that I had.
No lenses were of any use to sort them
yet I found myself in awe to know
that each had clusters of its own.
That side effect--proof of infinity!
I dare opine
that such a moment is not mine alone,
and thus invite my readers here
to set aside the trite, the tedium,
the hopeless resolution to despair,
for there within the opening you create
is endless light.
~
To publicly stand against any of God's Law
And in turn tempting all of society to perilously fall
Leading blindly, so presumptive as you trample about
Is that not arrogance when in God's Own Face you legislate doubt
Contradicting His every Word
At least that is all that I seem to have heard
Thus we can not practice what you preach
For it is only the Lord Jesus that we shall ever beseech
And in your audacity I can see your swagger
As in the evil act of abortion, You are the dagger
And as you continue to drift further and further away
Now this whole country has lost it's entire way
Your judgment shall be of the most severe
As His condemnation of such acts is very, very clear
Oh all those you misguided they shall be judged too
But not so nearly as harsh as will be You
Look, we know
The silent screams of yesterday moan on
Between the quiet dances with
Some random God Queen.
All days are like this.
All dogs love this.
Here it is:
Straight from the center of Heartbreak America.
The undulating weirdness that is all and
Our unifying impulse to label all of the "is all."
While yesterday hurls invectives,
Future gently nudges with a
Presumptive smile,
A scheming brain.
Now beat it. Just beat it.
Be there for your microwave.
Avoid going insane.
Take heart this is your only life
With this inexcusable amount of strife.
Introducing the Democrats' presumptive Presidential nominee
A fine, decent, virtuous family man, Mr. Joseph Biden
What's this? Sexual assault charges?
Hmph! Another sexual predator in hidin'
My body is a liquid
that keeps your glass half full
I'm merely there to fill the gap
between episodes of a screenplayed life
the need for symmetry
is overdrawing a story
were us could be presumptive
like you said
those expectations were my mirroring
so your repulsion stepped out to the scene
now we're sitting each in his corner
shrunken
as the vertical thoughts aim the heart harder
like a drone
released with purpose
absolved of liability
from the shelves of my soul
you're removing belonging titles
stacking your books
while happiness in this head is playing a tennis match
in front of an empty grandstand
I'm not standing
you've lent my nature disrupting the statics
I stand no more
I'm floating between this viscous heart
and knowledge that for me you're nefarious
preparing your clean exit
I'll sweep hidden agenda letters
which were adjusting to all of my lightheartednesses
you've turned the light off
and my heart became raspy
as you kept introducing roles in this performance
curtain is lowered
I'm bringing us to the end
Hillary Presumptive Democratic Nominee
Sounds like a disease her supporters
like me are infected by.
Where She wants to be
Is Presumptive Nominee
Heard said with much glee.
James Excited Delighted Horn
Retired Veteran and Poet
How do i explain the way i care for u
What do i do for you
I am wreath in smile to say that you are the one
Who give me positive in the day of negative
You give me hope in the day of hopeless
You pet me when am talking by myself
You are the one my baobba tree in the desert
You are the one the heir apparent not presumptive
I cherich you like my ancestral heirloom
what ever sign you are under zodiac
I believe my sign will match yours
you are like nomadic who cares for his cattle
from the day you enter my life
i know you are my soul provider
Braced upon Scriptural perspective
propelled along divine directive
my poetic mind stays assertive
showing celestial prerogative
throne in heaven --- indeed positive!!!
Heaven’s throne is supremely active
as God reigns, perfectly effective
working wisely midst loving motive
granting grace so appropriative
with mercy and truth’s preservative.
Bible states “mansions*” --- definitive
thus, being curiously perceptive
joyful fellowship forever--- never presumptive…
well, what’s sure is heaven’s objective:
to serve as eternal home, festive!!!
*John 14:2 In my Father's house are many mansions: if it were not so, I would have told you. I go to prepare a place for you.
November 5, 2021
books stacked, spine horizontally allowing the title and author to be seen, cars facing the front, hood and license plate, people and trees distinguishable by height and hair or crown, the sequence of years diminishes the vision but equips the brain with a detailed scanner that elide to pareidolia, in one drawer texture and colors, in the other weight and flavors, such as that little you, cataloged in the section of visually acceptable beings, human, pre-adolescent to his presumptive 9 years, blue of the shorts taken from the palette of picasso, irregular dentition requiring palatal expanders and, like a grandfather spying on the family that has lunch at the table set, his curious brown eyes peer from the doorway at the father's small library above the wardrobe, the fourth grade demands reading classics, there isn't one, so he read the Iliad that becomes a kind of alternative treasure, bank of almost incomprehensible words or depository of linguistic jewels. unlucky boy, he would have a better fate scratching his knees in running around the neighborhood, but you know how it is, a father pours out his pretensions and his alter ego on his offspring, some are rewarded with ignorance as in a lottery, others find damnation early if it's called wisdom.