(a series of Senryus)
Oh merciless tease,
heaven’s greatest injustice
must be temptation
There is no sense in
in the sensual and no real
care in the carnal
They’d begun the rites,
delights and wrongs of such love
an unworthy two
Anointed and sworn
by covenants to faithful
others as they were
Was a single kiss
what set the violently
borne fire of thirst?
Which, carried by the
winds of want, brought misfortune
and misadventure
There followed a swift
contract to sin that enriched
impractical love
Their delightful and
perfect lowliness of mind
banished dull conceits
And then afterwards,
a bookful of non-binding
promises of love
.
.
A song for this
the feeling by Steve Lacy [E]
consumer desire is a love language
wit is despair wearing lipstick
social identity is status management
About heartbreak:
Looking back is a good way to get a crick in your neck.
When it comes to s.e.x, I take a neutral position.
If you ever wanted to join
a sweaty, Paris, basement rave
now’s the time.
.
.
A song for this:
Bingo by La Sécurité
When the night
Clouds out of sight
Evil goes off thought
But at heart do persist
When the moon
Announces it soon
It becomes a boon
Joy to the goon
When the acts are local
It resist every being vocal
And design the land's dry miracle
To play games so satirical
With the joy of money
Immoral becomes honey
Causes many mourning
Tagged forewarning
With every visible injuries on joints
Gut got them crazy points
Even if Malignancies swallow Microsoft
They won't excel in theft
One seems powerful than others
Of the three units
Overshadowing with tactful conceits
To comfort others at the backseats
Wake from your slumber
Wake and take the pains no further
How many times have I sat down to write
When I worry over whether I might
Not touch base with my fickle muse
Without whose inspiration I will lose
Whatever poetic conceits come to mind
At which point I would feel totally resigned
To leaving my pages unscribbled and blank
As I felt my energy ebb and my spirit sank
Then did faint stirrings tickle my brain
As I hoped I could begin again
To venture to concoct my story
Every new poem being a step towards glory
Though doubts about my efforts remain
How long can budding poets ever be sane?
The torture of trying to find the right word
Forever renders such a struggle totally absurd
Whose psyche has come to my physique? Do I ever know?
I accept it as a stream accepts the fresh rain and flow.
In Ram, Rahim, and Robert, Rajeet this soul might have been
Did this dwell in Buddha and Jesus in a form unseen?
How many bodies had merged with the dust like earthen pots?
How, like feeble flies, has it passed through many throttling knots?
Did I get through any fragrant flowers and fleshy fruit?
Did I breathe through violin, guitar, sitar, flute, and lute?
Entwined amidst meaninglessness are wisdom and reason
Amidst winter, fall, monsoon, and summer, there's the spring season.
When absurd ends put a pause on flawlessly flowing streams
As though after dreams, before me dawn rays of rainbow beams
Peace, bliss, Nirvana, liberation, or transformation
New life, new hope, resurrection, or resuscitation
Concepts, caprices, conceits, and convictions could continue
Life, yet, like a fountain in flux, would secrete nectar new
It is fallacious to pretend
we contrive to “become ourselves”
when there’s no one to observe us.
Mere mice with conceits of grandeur
prowling proud like cats in the night -
Hubris holds high its hoary head.
We are ever just whom we are,
we can’t be more and can’t be less
until finally we are not.
I was at Resto Depot today for
lunch. I had a miso noodle salad
with an Avacado scooped out with two
scoops of crunchy veggie or no veggie
balls . they had exquisite seasoning too.
There was much lettuce ,the noodles were cooked.
There was dried crisp tasty noodles ,thank you.
I drank a glass of water .This dish is
a subtle smooth aged single malt whiskey,
Hard to eat slowly -I ate it quickly.
Desert was a cup of cantaloup scoops .
Happiness is the circle of glad folk,
I sat with six in all three to me spoke.
First folk were two ladies a nice chat had,
Next dude ignored me I didn’t feel bad.
A dad and son next they ordered a meal ,
They ate quickly: lunch is a sweet deal .
One was a doctor offered free rub down,
I said I live in the far part of town.
Our chat was nice he got up and split,
Noise is an irritable dish : I sit.
Solitude is a silent street.3 bare seats
I was musing when to write my conceits.
Resto Depot a hip place to hang out
For the in-crowd to be without a doubt.
Could not write my poem -my time was up
I looked at my watch ;my ride picked me up .
The queen of the daylight lurks likes memories.
Then is gone her silky array of words in Bangla
Disappearing fast as the blue king of the night in Hindi,
She regains her place, moves back and forward,
sits in the throne of the dappled memories in English
wheels to stalls: maladies and wellness of the world.
Words are loaded with possibilities random,
many windows holding images and conceits
touching the rainbow in the limitless blue.
The queen has many rooms to her .
Lived with shades she keeps words as her guardian sylph
protecting from the valour of Words.
Pictures of delayed morning, each day that passes
in the thesaurus of words, memories of the night unfold.
They closed the schools; said, “Stay at home.
No need to move your car.
A major storm’s expected
So remain just where you are.”
Yet in Manhattan, even though
The snow came swirling down,
It barely dusted roofs of cars.
(At least this part of town)
The gym was opened six hours late
And few were on the streets,
For everyone fell victim to
The weatherfolks’ conceits.
By 1 p.m., the snow had stopped
And temps were rising fast,
The sun was peeking through because
Snowpocalypse* had passed.
I know that other areas
Have lots more snow to plow,
But in the city, all that snow
(And hype!) is gone by now.
*Thanks to Mike D. for introducing me
to this cool word.
Vain imaginations, like clouds in the sky
Darkening my vision, and causing me to lie
Down, oh pride, and vain conceits, I say
Clear the way for truth, and chase the shadows away
Unbelief, the thief, that steals my hope away
I cast you out, and choose to trust and pray
For faith to arise, and doubts to fade like night
As I stand on promises, and hold on to His light
Confusion, oh confusion, you twist and turn
But I will not be swayed, for I know what I learn
The truth sets me free, and brings clarity to sight
I cast down confusion, and choose to stand in the light
Double-mindedness, a heart divided no more
I choose to serve the Lord, and walk through the door
Of single-minded devotion, with purpose and grace
Leaving behind the doubts, and embracing His holy face
I cast down these foes, and choose to stand tall
In the power of His might, I conquer the wall
Of vain imagination, unbelief, confusion, and strife
I choose to walk in faith, and abundant life
METAPHYSICAL MARVELS
The impromptu ,from another age
down to earth,ingenuous.conceits
..so bittersweet
In he whom I endued with life and love
does to one patient in hope bear reward -
a trueborn heir a man can be proud of
and whom well affectioned is well adored.
Follow the pathfinder maps to your soul
and hold fast its moral bearings inward -
trust in seen and unseen, in faith uphold
and in your heart recompense good for good.
Thus be not reckless in your own conceits
but wise to just cause and love’s whispered breath -
walk safely in the world in all your feats
lest it suffer me and quicken my death.
Make your way like him ragged and unshod
and bend your knee unto no one but God.
Written: March 2009
So devastating is the joy this arm brings
To the poor and the needy
With shabby hearts from the titled elite
Heart's illness is a showoff to seal
The foaming chants on the street
And on the news to make awesome headlines
What blessed hearts are they that give in secret!
Not to publish the right hands doings for left hands views
And be composed melodious song be sings
For all they want is fame story so greedy
Which dwells in guise conceits
A honorary free deal
Born out of cares that tears the ought treat
Though must have forgotten the day of fame and praises' deadlines
When time shall be knockedout
To account for memories blackout
I am wise to love
and a fool to my conceits -
all you need is love!
Written: January 2016
"Poetique"
poet
where goest thou
on this trip?
you sing
your muse in
small amusements
confectionary
conceits
took a detour
amazed
labyrinthine
ghost-like
spooked
poetique
in the Matrix
(LadyLabyrinth / 2022)
“Subconscious Self “ (Original Mix) / Lisa Raven
https://youtu.be/G4yY2Qkf9g8
"Rebecca"/Du Maurier.
conceit.
https://www.poetryfoundation.org/learn/glossary-terms/conceit
ghosts.
https://www.poetrysoup.com/poem/tell_me_something_beautiful_1310173
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