I'm torn between two distant worlds ~
one steeped in wickedness and sin,
the other pure and righteous;
my mind drifts like oil on water.
Alluring is the glory of heaven,
promised if I remain pure and holy,
yet enticing is the frivolity
hidden in jollity they call "sin."
My mind imagines the afterlife the Bible depicts,
yet I savour worldly pleasures my flesh can't resist.
Even when I long to retreat from every sinful street,
my soul burns within with these endless conflicts.
What if the promise is merely a myth,
and I found out that piety robbed me of earthly pity?
Would that not be a loss of two cities –
one paved with gold, the other left cold?
I never thought about being here,
Merely as an option.
To someone, I can’t adore
But also to the one I can’t bestow.
These waves of misperceptions,
Creates a sense of insecurity,
As I juggle myself back and forth.
Those hearty chapters now come to an end.
My broken pieces are craving to be restored,
But your hammer of rejection,
Knocks me down as I try to heal.
The turmoil within me has become unbearable,
Breaking me through.
Infinite and enticing is the world at large :
Full of curious, motley marvels that enrich,
Appease and alleviate with divine charge,
The eager, stirred soul at the varied pitch ;
Live spirit ever cherishes the ideal kind;
Pleasures of one are most often the pain
Of others, who choose never to dwell
Or step into any nook of an alien domain ;
The reaches of the heaven and the hell
Are but the concocted portals of the mind
Absolute liberty exacting callous decadence
To seek the needs and impulses unruly,
In vying with others, caused the providence
To intervene with the commandments holy;
From Paleocene to the space- epoch proud,
Between the stones and the missiles wicked
Strode all weaponry grinning with vicious hate
From across the deserts and lands sacred,
Came forth Revealers and Pathfinders great,
To proclaim, recoup and restore equity aloud
One might win, and with great gains too,
In all conflicts with Nature and mankind;
Yet with stretching arms and power true
How far will the real success go ,and find
Him as a victor in his conflict with himself..?
All through wee hours of the morning
Laminga wail their missing persons, mourning
And the track road leading into Amurum forest
Stained with droplets of blood down the terraced
Searching into sunrise by Lafon river parts
headless corpses, dissected body parts
littered everywhere, now unidentifiable
As indigo chirps, tension grew so palpable
This was another midnight massacre
When men slept, this ambush occur
Bukuru have breached the truce
So all hell must be let loose
We must return to war
The young ebullient youth swore
To avenge the blood of their heroes past
Their Heart drumming so fast
It is war without end
For this we can no longer pretend
Tales of indigeneity, hate fomentation
Passed down from generation to generation
In fighting a war of inheritance
Tens of thousands snuffed from existence
As senseless conflicts and retaliation
Have become their everlasting damnation
The world is full of conflicts and the enemies are fill with rage, coming to steal, to kill, and to destroy. But God is still in control.
The Scripture says; "The LORD shall increase you more and more,
you and your children.
You are blessed of the LORD,
who made heaven and earth.
The heavens belong to the LORD,
but the earth He has given to the children of men.
The dead do not praise the LORD,
nor do any who go down into silence.
But we will bless the LORD
from this time and for evermore.
Praise the LORD!"
(Psalm 115:14-18)
When I went to school in the city
my friends though I was poor,
but I didn’t understand
wasn’t really very sure;
I only knew that
when I got home
I had all those miles
of fields to roam,
and every long summer
within easy reach,
half hour’s walk,
was Cowden beach.
They may have had running water
and toilets that flushed
but I hated their streets
their lives that rushed.
I was never ever at ease
when I was there,
hated the noise,
the very air.
They had the cinemas,
I had the sun.
They could play in the parks
I could walk with my gun;
and very special, I had two lives.
My friends known almost from birth
village folk with families like mine
mostly living from and with the earth
and my newly found city friends.
I kept each in their own part of my day
the best of both worlds,
I liked it that way.
A man’s not poor
if he needs to be told
what he’s missing
out there in the cold
My life may have been considered lacking
by those friends back there in the city,
from my position it was they
who needed my pity.
When we first saw Columbus;
his sea-bowed legs were struggling ashore;
us natives looked upon that unhealthy guy,
that marinated mariner who brought
news of garlic and olive oil to the unsuspecting,
both of which we natives had no use for.
Then it was that we envisioned as if in a dream
that natives should never, could never
forgive him for the insidious spread of Italian broccoli.
Thus we made war upon the brownish white men,
endeavoring earnestly to place an embargo
on any more useless imports.
No use!
Salesmen traveled all over our hunting grounds
offering yet more pizza ingredients.
The Spanish (long before Columbus Day),
had left pigs and horses for us Indians
for which we were most grateful,
and so we forgave
the genocidal aspirations of the conquistadors,
but broccoli was the absolute last straw,
and so we reigned terror
upon many a city statue of his likeness
and his pervasive, belligerent
garlic-breath.
Seathed Conflicts
Devastatingly ignited fire of riot for a decade,
A bundle of clean rags of thoughts catches,
Through a baptism by flames of accidental occurrence ,
In a certain place causing damage and stress,
A strong wind fans the my inner strength,
Seedlings of my new themes on empty landscape,
Self-exposure of the war camarilla of my vision,
Outbreak sliders effectively against right-handers,
Of my hidden chestnut tree of foresight,
Adrift of the peacemaking weaver takes deep insight,
Unvoiced desires and pitiful vulnerability,
Push up the bliss of revealed emotions on costs,
Of my scope of my measure of domained land,
To restore the life of broken stabilized feeling,
Escape by recrossing of hovering of thoughts,
Away from the tides of time destiny,
Great pillars of my determined decision,
Prison the warder of white rose flames,
A war broken host may drive them before,
An ardent mind pathetically shelves himself,
When phantoms of battle burst in mist.
Sajid Hussain Pakistan ©
At home we share agrarian spaces
no political reform
no struggle for land...
Some thought his mind to be a tender leaf,
Yet only he knew ... the battle in his mind:
How oft' his mind did seek some sigh of relief
From wits that grieved – a burden he did find.
Pen like a wild beast, fretted his right hand,
And fingers did try to tame it, with tears;
Experts did warn his scribbles they would band,
Not seeing the gems, concealed in briers.
His fingers often blocked cascading thoughts,
And heart sure wept for the unexpressed wits;
His sturdy guts did fight with tangled knots
And sent forces to defeat ... rivals' blitz.
His life he won without laments or whines,
And here, I read for you, his painful lines.
* A 2nd Place (the 3rd from the top) in the following contest (judged on Jan. 16, 2021)
Jan. 12, 2021 (Originally submitted on Sept. 6, 2020)
Best N-A poem of 2020 Poetry Contest
Contest sponsor: John Hamilton
The poem was originally submitted to "Courage Poetry Contest", which was judged on Sept. 10, 2020, but I had an N-A
When did I learn somewhere,
That Capitalism does not care?
Should have realized when I was young,
Economies flourish best with guns,
Over here in Oz, you see,
Iron ore and uranium, basically,
These fund our economy,
Is the human race naive?
Depends on what you believe,
Uncle Sam wants you and you,
Take care, young chicks and dudes,
Armed conflicts soon anywhere,
When the Covid antidote is here,
Capitalism does not even care.......
Those Worlds
open their doors
to me for old answers,
dreams in new universes merge...
I walk
as somebody I've always known,
through unending conflicts
of tangled mind,
emerge..
9th May 2020
For Let the Pens Flow - Butterfly Cinquain Poetry Contest
Sponsored By: Jenish Somadas
Winner: Third Place
With One’s Life
There are always choices to be made and certain realities to square
within the confines, conflicts, and limitations of human existence.
It is given and understood that human beings shall never be perfect,
despite their religious overtures and genuflections to Almighty God.
And, it is worth noting that human beings may fall pray, at times, to
the vanities of life even in situations where they seek to do better.
Nobody is perfect, but it is both noble and grand to see and witness
when a person rises to the need to help others who are less fortunate.
The most challenging aspect may be for any person to put himself or
herself in harm’s way when an instance of direct loss of life is at issue.
Regardless, there are indeed people among all of us who do choose to
positively engage in crisis situations to help others in need—all Heroes!
With one’s life, the choices we all make define and shape who each of
us are as we seek to find our true purpose and direction by God’s grace.
What can be more noble than that?
Gary Bateman, Copyright © All Rights Reserved
October 30, 2017 (Didactic)
Conflicts Face and Fall Into Place
Conflicts we may often have to face;
Sometimes they just fall into place;
We expected;
God directed
Thanks to Him and all of His grace.
Jim Horn
On the verge
Of fond urge
Feel moves surge
Sense dark fate
In night late
Frame sad gate
Face to face
In this place
Loss of grace
Do you know
How hate shows
A mad glow?
Cull in vain
Words that strain
Yet more pain
Stop right here
As light clears
Dark grim fear
Argue well
To fit tell
That you sell
Leon Enriquez
10 April 2019
Singapore
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