Allow NO ONE to belittle you
for the position or field you have
either chosen or landed –
whether it be temporal or permanent,
whether it be a job or a career –
to you.
If it’s legal –
regardless of what it is you DO –
It is most definitely HONEST living.
There’s NO shame whatsoever,
Only MODESTY and DIGNITY
in TRUTH and HONESTY!
Hence, give NO regards to those that underestimate you
For whatever it is you DO for a living in your occupational field.
Let NO ONE speak ILL of you for doing NOTHING else for NO ONE!
If you have EVER been EMPLOYED, you are SELFLESS – not SELFSH –
By having worked for someone, you’ve invested in THEIR dream, contributing to THEIR success and constructing toward THEIR achievements – NOT YOURS – one brick at a time – even LONG AFTER you’ve already been honorably resigned or abruptly terminated!
For the term you’ve served or filled – however LONG or however SHORT –
You’ve occupied “the vacancy” and fulfilled whatever “the need”
you DO or DID…every day you reported for work in exchange for a
“stipend net change” of the business founder’s “gross pay dollar…”
YOU, SELFLESS DREAM-BUILDER, YOU….?•
Let's play with new things, catching a new approach,
I am happy with bringing new things into the next epoch,
Constructing a method by defining each step as its own coach,
Sitting on its own as a key step because I am doing research.
I am an inventor, I am a researcher, I am a philosopher, I am an innovator,
Converting the knowledge from one to another because I am a converter,
I set the goal to reach the final destination and continue as a path setter,
Moving with no mistakes, no fear, with belief in myself because I am a creator.
e……..em……..emu……emulate……emulation
building words is quite the celebration
constructing sentences is a kick too
conjunctions acting as the well-toned glue
prepositions running up and down
paragraph sneering with a clown’s young frown
my muse tears down rules and jumps over walls
ideas are pinging in my head now like ping pong balls
Snowplows rumble through the night.
A distant tomorrow
already applauds a surprised sunrise.
Later, Sol turns the slushy ice to diamonds
while it digs the world out again.
For a while, the land is shoveled up,
cleaned and rolled into paper-light reams.
Whether the earth melts
or grows backyard glaciers,
skyscraping winds will blow down
deeper than ever before.
Eventually winter pileups
are pushed back
by the steamy breath of labor
and the prayers of those who only watch.
Machines continue cleaning up dead spaces,
constructing viewing platforms
for the fur-fluffed and swift winged onlookers.
Lazarus moments come and go
between the humped heaps of ice and snow.
thick dark plaids and worn-out blues
with tools that cut, seal and fuse
measuring tape and nails their best friends
cutting, creating and constructing never ends
My chatting with them has to stop
they get paid hourly says my disgusted pop
but they are so honest and fun to be around
workmen seem to have their boots on the ground
For the scant time to commune with my Muse
and from my mind some long-harbored thoughts free
In strings of words I hope would pass for verse--
this time, this chance, fills up my heart with glee.
Yet often when I have scarcely begun
to pen some notions about the world’s sores,
I rue that I can’t help but to purloin
some hours from work and domestic chores.
Ah, to write, to compose without much care
while in full possession of place and time--
What joy I’d feel when I am unshackled thus
to focus on constructing better rhyme.
With calloused fingers, and ink-stained hands,
A poet prepares for battle.
Searching for the calm in the storm,
Paused, poised, and still.
A deep breath in.. a long exhale;
Their pen becomes a weapon.
The power it wields, undeniable;
It spills truths, immeasurable:
The blood of a shattered Nation.
The pen: a weapon; a battle-cry.
Rallying masses to follow its lead.
Demanding justice, answers, and equality.
The poet, constructing, and carefully crafting;
Their words, building momentum.
Lighting a beacon, leading us all -
Towards a beautifully rare Rebellion.
Like all my siblings, I dropped from my mother's crown, oh, about twenty years ago now
Fortunately, though a tough nut to crack, I eventually poked my green head up out of the ground
Turns out that I'm a tree, an Eastern Black Walnut to be exact, or Juglans nigra to be super exact
Now, nearly thirty feet tall, I can feel I've slowed down in growth some, normal for us black walnuts
If I keep my roots, and that pesky walnut caterpillar doesn't find me, I should double my height
My leaves are busy factories turning sunlight, water, and carbon dioxide into life sustaining oxygen
You humans love the pungent taste of my healthy fruit and use it in a slew of your culinary delights
They tell me studies show that the antioxidants I host are beneficial for human medicinal purposes
That chocolate wood I lumber around is top notch for constructing beautiful, long lasting furniture
So whatever our destiny may be, dresser, medicine, or tree, us black walnuts will always stand tall
In the Odyssey of curling bloom,
The void lying within goes inerasable
Even though the means used are fragile enough
Yet, unable to detach complexity
Yet, unable to fulfill the felicity
of constructing those curling blooms, contented & voidless
Is stability indeed a coffin?
Or maybe it's more of a sin?
Or maybe, I lose and Life always wins
But I'll continue till the gap gets thin
No matter if it sheds off my skin
The void will surely departure if it's so much of spin
Or maybe , It'll not
Maybe that's the plot
Then I'll make use of the dots
On those tiny leftovers, isn't it now a lot?
Is there anything I still forgot?
But, I guess it's all what I've got
so as to fulfill the felicity
of constructing those curling blooms, contented & voidless
The void will surely departure if it's so much of prop
Or maybe, It'll not
Or maybe, It'll never
No matter whatever
The only thing that exists forever!
The past and the future
A war was coming our way as a patriot, I enlisted
Although I was a bit elderly, I was accepted
sent to a camp, with the rank of sergeant in
charge of the kitchen
When the war ended, I took the bus back to my
village that looked the same as before, and my dog
sat on the steps waiting for me, she wanted to
go for our usual walks in the woods
After half an hour, I called the dog; it was time to
go home, but the dog had disappeared, think she
had run home waiting to let her in, but she and
The village was not there,
Instead of a man with a golf club in his hand, I thought
looked like Trump telling me I was trespassing
But there was a village here, yes, but we got rid of
it when constructing the golf course
He looked at me and said, Are you from the past?
Yes, I am, but this is the future you are in the wrong
place, you'd better go back before your time is over
I walk to where the road and horizon merge
Almonds were enjoyed, and the nuts were crushed with a rock
Sleep in peace, our father, my mentor, our provider
Peace among the Angels, we will continue to cherish those fond memories.
Evening tide will go down with you constructing your pig pen
Greatness was defined by your achievements throughout your younger days
Shall we evoke feelings of joy and celebration on this day?
As poetic fruits,
Let us be stones of oneness;
Pillars of its words:-
Just as in nature,
life has its seasonal times–
constructing our growth:-
As is its nature,
Life has its sowing and reaping;
Its joys and sadness:-
As we plant our words,
may they be pillars of both
joy and awareness:-
One’s existence sustains uncertainty,
disruption subsequent to such functionality.
Proceeding reality as my own assessment,
despite that it might get unpleasant.
What transpires within this body and mind
obliges the supplement’s empowerment to be one of a kind.
Attempting for a disparate upshot,
its side effects hit like a gunshot.
Normality dismantling this flow is constructing quite a show.
Give credence to this substance which has been fought over,
a void I intend to gradually rely on and rover
I run and I dance, around and behind,
picking up the golden pieces that fall.
Chunk of heart here, a bit of soul no mind,
shedding your glory, constructing a wall.
I follow, needle and thread in my care,
trying to mend you to stop my dreading.
You keep popping back open, quickly wear,
like that old teddy bear you keep shredding.
For I am just stitching crumbling coal.
Daughter are you even mine to repair?
My ship a vessel to nourish your soul.
I feed you with love God gave me to wear.
For I leave my spirit gaping with holes.
I’m threading your heart and stabbing my soul.
Against the grain
Resistance to the
Appearances of
What is undesired..
Constructing a future
With a pleasant
Granular flow..
The plan of a
Reformer
Progressive
Self helper..
Stories of resistance
Against the grain
Already freedom...
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