What Remains?
What remains after a man dies?
What will bring him joy to behold in the realm beyond death?
First, is profound faith in The Absolute Truth: The Supreme Being ~ Allah
The One, the Unique, the Singular; He begets not, nor is He begotten, and there is none co-equal to Him—nor any likeness or counterpart ~ Real God.
And second, his righteous deeds, good intentions, virtuous character, honesty, and love for humanity, nature, and all of creation!
As for his evil and diabolical deeds, words, and intentions, he shall feel a depth of remorse unlike anything he or she ever experienced during their earthly life!
Their earthly life is a test set by God; a test that is fleetingly brief when compared to eternity!
Everything other than that seems is gone,
After everything is gone, your deed is/are what remain after "everything" is gone!
That's what remains as seems to me as far as I knew, I believe.
A Future Form
A calm night shelters us after the day's chime.
Left its glow, an incandescence of faded remnants.
That's its counterpart reflected onto our beautiful world.
Creating a continuous awakening of shimmering light.
Just over Denmark, the whooshing rhythmic sounds
of windmills recycling electricity, the first new color
In eons, in leap years.breeze, like a dream in the future
Form. Becomes tomorrow’s shadow.
But for now, this is a day in sketches.
A blueprint of a delicate dance, with gratitude for
a new day. Someday, if someday comes?
When we shape our future form in a bond of truth.
Clarity is born as we dissolve and drift
through the momentary, of beginning again.
With unbound devotion, where artistic creativity is born.
This is the future form.
Laser light, your laboratory of life.
Try to take a moment, sit down, and play.
The whole ensemble: in time, you're back at it.
In time. A future is now formed.
How self-worth waves count,
when the ray of love struck,
skimmed my anxious being,
that inner light rotated a plus,
focus on healing curative,
looking glass on past event,
morphing current field of view,
behind the outer world mask
silver, aluminium, gold metal,
counterpart to my renewal
SYMPATHETIC RESPONSE
characteristically
assured
ideas
merely
tolerated
not LACKING RIGHTS
bearing
counterpart
trophies
without
pride
by GRASPING EVENTS
mobilising
effort
concentrating
single
mindedly
Darkness whisks the egg white strands
into the yellow yolk glob.
Time claws its way
wallowing through a quagmire
of booze, ooze and bog-breath delays.
"I'm Late, I'm Late!"
"Who Spake?"
"Who's seen better Ways?"
Feet spread strangely,
disengage and untangle.
Interlocking with toe taps
pin-pointed to barre-
laughing at those old elbows and knees.
The gasp of old shadows
lurking in clouds
dispels the carnival
confetti spaghetti charade,
to yell:
"Joie de Vivre!
"What the hell!"
"Is all this stuff about?"
Silence lies petrified
by a pillar of Babel-borne salt
outside of the window.
It can't get out of bed.
“I’m fine! OK!"
"I'm laying in"
"Playing dead!"
Each contradiction
spoke with impeccable diction.
Intonation interlaced;
with poise and puréed perfection,
personified.
It brought applause, clapped with one hand
behind the other,
a contra-counterpart.
A toot toot touche,
bowing to cheers
from both ways.
Disparate, she commented,
The word reverberating
As fond music, with pleasant
Measures and tingly tones --
And should we not be open
To others’ voices, divergence of
Thinking? As with clear-eyed
And blinking, a look-see is worth
The now, hoping, anticipated
Enlivened journey of daring
Vistas, elongated dimensions --
Spirit/mind ever on the hunt for
Spirit/source – life is a series
Of Lost And Founds...squares
Seeking their counterpart rounds --
Not diametrically opposed, just
Points and edges making intriguing
Bounds – but never a harmony all
Quaking Spheres. Simply enjoying
A unique volume of eyes, noses, voices
And pert little ears.
In goodwill frame sans garnished aim,
A gift with a portmanteau name,
And given to a friend,
Motive nor any end,
Plane, polite gallantry, no game.
But world, wrapped in motive--
Subjective and dative,
Cause following effect
And fiction feigning fact,
Finds a fawn fawning in front of a dame.
________________________
Happenings | 25.05.2026 | chocolate, gift, humour, world, Limerick
Note: A goodwill gift given by PM Modi on visit to his counterpart of Italy—no more no less but becoming a hot subject of the chatter circuit of social media. This ditty cries out of this excess and still ends up with an excess of alliteration of its own in the end.
everything looks prettier with my sunglasses on
you do too
how can you kiss me from so far away?
id blind myself to get a glimpse of you
you shine on everyone
kissing their skin, i’m nobody’s baby
you’ve burned a great big hole in my heart
a crater like your counterpart you made in me
why do you have to kiss everyone?
your attention is never only mine
come back, shine on me, it’s been too long
i’ll make you want to stay this time
if i could, i’d do it all again
i got what i’d always dreamt of
i felt your light in my chest
i died at your hand, i died in love
Her world has become suspiciously small,
mind walls are blocking margins of escape,
soon she’ll be discharged to fair Pania,*
and there perhaps elegant folderal
with a handsome man in landscape dreamscape
of enchantment beneath Urania,**
(never again to know infernal sins).
Is she trapped in the web of Aranea?***
Perhaps; perhaps not, but with hope agape,
and fingers crossed, she plunges deeper in-
to pools of mania!
* Greek, derived from papias, meaning "crown" or "guard of the Imperial Palace".
**goddess of love; counterpart of Greek Aphrodite
***an orb-weaving spider
She is not more passionate than other women,
nor does she bring happiness just because she is a Gypsy,
she is the counterpart of a mystery, an unexplored zone,
captures a heart, even though yesterday she was a stranger.
Her seductive gaze hides sadness within,
even though her smile is her trademark for you,
you can delight her even with a flower
and that will be enough for you to be her hero.
And the centuries in her shadow are densely woven,
the shackles of customs and other people's prejudices follow her,
she will fight, even though her dreams lie stranded,
not caring for those who judge her with their eyes.
For her heart is wild and loves freedom,
she can deceive you with love into believing she belongs to you,
even though you never dreamed of such an outcome,
you belong to her and that fact does not fade.
And she was not just any Gypsy — she was mine,
or perhaps I was only fooling myself at the time,
though I was hers, I surrendered without a battle,
and I still am, our story is now my burden.
I lost a lot chasing pleasures of flesh--
My son that gave me age lost loving wife,
Mine lost her mind, woe to me, to my rash
Acts, to my ways to invite my own strife!
A venomous snake (what else) had stung me,
Yayati poured out his heart in a dream
To a victim drowned in a self-made sea,
Forced to run a rat race, rise still like cream,
And stressed, lest he’s left behind-- a vague fear
To lose life of pleasures, nay, pains so sweet
Of today’s man driving on reverse gear
And out, a make-believe monster to beat.
Whence hast arisen this fantasy from?
Self-made, from what-will-the-world-say syndrome.
_________________________________
Sonnet | 01.03.2026 | dream, fantasy, fear, illness, joys
Note: Yayati of Mahabharata suffered from the fear of loss of life’s pleasures, now known as Yayati syndrome. This sonnet warns about its counterpart known as anti-Yayati syndrome born off today’s world of rat race.
The Upside Down Tree—its Roots in Sky—
Its Branches clutch the Clay—
It drinks from Light instead of Earth,
And blooms the backward Way—
Its Leaves are Thoughts—unfastened—free—
That fall—yet never land—
They rise—like Prayer misunderstood—
By Gravity there Held—
The Trunk is Time—reversed in Grain—
Each Ring a future Past—
Where What we were has not occurred,
And What will be—has passed—
The Birds that nest—are Doubts and Faiths—
They sing in Counterpart—
One chirps of Loss—the other Hope—
Both roosting in the Heart—
No Axe may fell this curious Wood—
No Storm may make it yield—
For Truth—when planted in the Air—
Refuses to be killed—
So stand beneath its falling Roots—
And learn what few have known—
That Heaven grows the way it must—
When Earth is overgrown —
A boy…one boy digs through rubble.
He must find the pieces of his heart.
Tears, heartbreak - he must find him.
Someone films him - What are you doing?
Looking for my grandpa. He keeps moving.
He keeps moving rubble, turning it over -
he cannot fathom what his brain cannot
comprehend. Desperation in his eyes.
We clench our innards, because we too
cannot take this. Suffering we’d erase.
Each and every, any kid - we hurt for him
and her. Out of time and reach; tears.
And elsewhere a counterpart hurts too.
The jagged edges tear apart
The cornerstones of her heart
Each day, there's an emotional dart
Thrown by her counterpart
The husband's venom impart
And sadly, she's his push cart
Where seemingly, she's his spare part
That he abuses with his mouthpart
She's fallen to her knees and kick-start
Thus, a bullseye that cries for a depart
For the jagged edges will never depart
But wisely, she needs to be smart
And distance herself from his blackheart
She yearns for smooth edges and a new start
In the end, she clears off her sweetheart
connie pachecho
7/31/25
Our life a horror movie they played to us in real life
In horror films black people die first
We always make smart decisions
And yet they still manage to find a way to erase us even in film
They don't leave us alone
Not in life
Not in death
Not even in fiction
They do this to show that no matter what we will always be trapped
That even if we follow the rules
We still die
We are still erased
That we still have no control
Over our own fate
We will always be puppets
To a system
That doesn't control by using string
But by barbed wire
Making sure every movement is painful
Making sure we have a slow and violent death
That with every breath
The barbed wire strips another piece of our flesh
Slowly peeling away our blackness
We are seen as the disposable one
In life
In movies
And shows
To be the one who helps
The one who saves
And the one who sacrifices
Their life
For their white counterpart
To make sure they get to the end
Where's our happily ever after
We always get the struggle trope
And when we ask to change the ending
They just say nope
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