Thou hast been conferred with the crown of princess -
The crown of Degree in Biotechnology by HIS Grace,
The Lord hath been with thee all through the years of thy learning,
Thou hast been blessed with spiritual parents by HIS Mercy,
He hath guided thee with HIS Wisdom and Knowledge,
Each step thou hadst made hath been touched by HIS Hand,
The Knowledge thou hast Imbibed hath been HIS Breath,
The seconds thou hadst spent have been set by HIS Words,
The thesis thou hast prepared hath been guided by HIS Utterance,
The projects thou hast done have been structured by HIS Plan,
The professors who have taught thee have been designed by HIM.
So, keep thyself totally surrendered into HIM Who is always good unto all.
HE hath crowned thee with stars of HIS Grace and Mercy,
Yet, more than this, HE is thy Eternal Guide and Comforter,
And HE seeks thy soul and heart for HIM alone above material blessings,
And so, be in HIM and walk spiritually for HIM alone,
And HE shall sustain thee in this life and in the life to come.
spellbook included Himalayan salt
beak of crow and fingernail of Walt
He made his own magical recipes
Conferred with wise witch to do it with ease
we have never seen a spellbook like this said the cat
he was staring into the cauldron, steam rolling fat
I enchanted it you fool the witch said with roll of her eye
She threw in two frogs, and an unhappy salesman guy
I kept no Tutor but the Sky—
No Syllabus but Breeze—
The Pages turned themselves at Dawn—
In rustling Libraries—
The Robin lectured from the Fence—
The Brook revised my Thought—
A Cloud erased my Certainty—
Then softly—left me taught—
No Bell announced my Ignorance—
No Term conferred Degree—
Yet every Silence—held a Truth—
Too vast—for Pedagogy—
I failed—by inches—every Day—
Succeeded—just as small—
Till Knowledge—like a timid Guest—
Began—to know—my Hall—
And though no Scholar claims my Name—
Nor Ink records my Art—
The Mind—unbidden—learned to bloom—
A University—of Heart—
The difference between a finger and a thumb
is Shakespeare. Anyone can dream
of a candle, but you’d better dodge your shadow,
because death, that great et cetera,
is the opposite of surreal. If there were no thunder
there would be no mountains, so something like a snowflake
cannot be conferred: it must be earned.
You will tell me that anyone can say this,
which is why I am saying it. Your puzzlement
shows how well you understand. It is important
to have someone to talk to
even if they can’t hear you. You can polish a mirror
until you see your face, but it will not
be you, because meaning is created
when we are not looking, while the grass
grows, grows, grows.
That was an ode to Walt Whitman.
Well Gobble and Waddle are two lucky birds
For Thanksgiving dinner they will not be served
They’ll go back to school
Will think themselves cool
And the Badge of Elite on them be conferred
The President of the United Stated pardons a turkey as a lighthearted tradition that began with Abraham Lincoln sparing a turkey at his son's request and was made official in 1989 by President George H.W. Bush.
Today, the President officially "pardons" one or two turkeys each year, saving them from the Thanksgiving dinner table and allowing them to live out their lives, often at a farm or zoo.
After being pardoned, this year’s turkeys, Gobble and Waddle, will return to North Carolina State University to live under the care of the Prestage Department of Poultry Science.
They will be transported back after their pardon ceremony and will reside at the university for the rest of their lives.
Before the pardon ceremony, the birds stayed overnight at the Willard InterContinental Hotel in Washington, D.C.
how many years I lived
without knowing the decision space in front of me
didn’t depend on the stingy calculus
of a lover’s whimsy.
I can’t believe—
how many times I mistook silence
for verdict, god’s understudy,
how many times I called a locked door just,
as if my wanting were felony,
my body a crime scene.
I called it love—
letting all other appetites eat first.
I called it love—
when I folded my desire, my voice
into a paper crane,
set it alight,
then apologized
for the smoke.
But freedom—
freedom isn’t a hand-me-down.
It cannot be conferred, is not a ribbon tied
to someone else’s mercy.
It’s my pulse still thrumming,
a window they swore was nailed shut
splintering, opening, opening.
Freedom is sky without edges,
my mind a kite unwound from every fist,
kissing my own lips,
striking my name like the last match on earth,
calling it holy—
to breathe without permission.
Whether the Indigenous People,
robed in leathers, head dressed in feathers,
who had their own sovereign nations,
wanted it or not,
June 2nd 1924,
U.S. President Calvin Coolidge
condescendingly signed the Snyder Act,
a.k.a., the Indian Citizenship Act, into law,
thereby conferring American citizenship
on American Indians.
He had it backwards,
it was no more than an affront
as, whether the Indigenous People
wanted them or not,
it was American Indians who,
altho' they made no claim to own Mother Earth,
should have conferred American citizenship
on the Paleface People,
who were mere trespassers on tribal territory.
And Woody Guthrie
(1912 – 1967),
another white man,
was not referring
to Native Americans
when he wrote,
'This land is your land.'
In the realm of the heart which served as our guide
For vanities sake we cheated and lied
And all of the signs that lighted our way
Now darkened and silent had lead us astray
In our haste to proclaim that all must belong
We abandoned our will to see right from wrong
So we searched to the west, we searched to the east
Yet ever within did we search there the least
Now between every beat in a darkening hush
Each step of retreat in a frightening rush
And doubts every treason reflected in tears
Did overlay reason with maddening fear
Here Death came a stalking, unheeded, unsought
And sold us the wares we had already bought
So we pelted headlong into welcoming arms
Whose offered embrace was enticingly warm
We took all the things Death offered in spades
And with them adorned our newly dug graves
Of the angels that scry and mark every sin
No stroke may belie nor ever forfend
The promise averred yet never attained
In souls so conferred with indelible stain
Flow of warm drops from my eyes in winters,
Might be a sign that my eyes are drying.
If love is a sin, I'm among sinners,
Might be a sign that it's alone crying.
My mistake was to dive into her eyes,
And there is no way to go back to death.
I confirmed my death in the sea of lies,
No more drowning and no hustle for breath.
A normal life was not enough for me,
So, conferred my soul to love and romance.
A mad man imaging story with thee,
So there does not remain any regrance.
When my eyes are red and sky is all black,
Then there is no chance of moon going back.
Each node a bliss epicentre,
standing erect without support,
wherefrom grace bestowed does enter,
each pore of form love’s docking port.
The void holds us in warm embrace,
shimmering due to bliss rapture
as we see clearly, by God’s grace,
a knowing mind cannot capture.
We go where our attention flows
and as such we are everywhere
but it’s in stillness where thought slows,
we truly become self-aware.
The words we speak, are so offered,
as the boons upon us conferred.
The tree embraces cat and bird.
On both its blessing is conferred.
In turn, they celebrate the bliss
Of this eternal armistice.
The tree is rooted in the deep,
Where hatred, rage and envy sleep,
And reaches up, all gnarled and scarred,
To sparkling diadems of stars.
Master of Hate (conferred for general practice)
Master of Bigotic Hate (conferred for narrow-minded reasons like religious or political belief)
Master of Occupational Hate (conferred for haters for money or other favors in return or as a job or profession)
Master of Ignorant Hate (conferred for haters with reasons they cannot understand like they don't even know the person)
Master of Innocent Hate (conferred for children used to hate)
Master of Unjust Hate (conferred on haters for no reason or shallow reason)
Master of Divinistic Hate (conferred for haters who went to Bible School)
Doctor of Divinistic Hate (conferred for haters who went to bible school and also preaches the bible)
Bachelor of Hate (major in politics)
Bachelor of Hate (major in religion)
Bachelor of Hate (major in gossip)
Just for fun
So many worlds work as one;
a symbiotic tango where
no feet are ever stepped on -
no pardons conferred.
An intersection of nature,
busy, yet no traffic lights nor
accidents or road rage.
A seductive tease where
cold shoulders and hot glances
share equal stage - smirking.
The first blanket of leaves lie soaked
beneath the shuffling of the last,
covers the naked dancing/celebrating
worms and sprouts who feast
on the nourishing gifts of Autumn
now winter worn to perfection.
Waiting, a red-breast is filled,
and on high, new leaves are born
to hide their summer nests.
The pale sky always anew,
A lake of deep crystal blue,
Reflecting rainbows of every hue.
Leaves falling graciously,
And flowers fluttering softly,
The towering trees,
Aiding the gentle breeze.
The chirping of the ebullient birds,
The buzzing of the loving bees,
The creaking of the trees,
The gentle gust of the wind,
The rhyming sounds of nature and life twinned.
Though heavy rains may leave tears,
Inflicting us with burning fears,
A perfect world it was conferred,
For after everything that passes,
This splendor moment will have recurred.
Jesus Christ suffered, counted all as loss,
His life, He offered on Calvary's Cross,
Echoes of His pain reverberate round,
The Lamb of God slain that we may be found,
"Father, forgive them, for they do not know,"
He did not condemn, rather love did show,
"Today, you'll be with me in paradise,"
The robber forthwith found peace to suffice,
"Woman, here's your son." "Here is your mother",
Earthly duties done, like Him, no other,
"My God, My God, why hast Thou forsaken?"
His anguish-filled cry leaves us all shaken,
"I'm thirsty," cried He to fulfil Scripture,
This desperate plea, a human picture,
"It is finished," said Christ, salvation won,
As He slowly bled, God's beloved Son,
"Into Your hands I commit My spirit,"
His surrender cry was heard, (as it's writ)
Crucified by men, the Creator showed
His eternal yen to save us, bestowed,
Buried in new tomb hewn in solid stone,
Silence filled the gloom, He lay there alone,
But on the day third, winning over death,
He rose and conferred His world-saving breath.
21st April 2023
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