More vacuous verse to the void:
abysmal, of meaning devoid.
A reflexive spasm
sends more to the chasm
where anemic arts are destroyed.
Escaping, strange thoughts from my head
go written but largely unread.
Another deposit
to add to the closet
of words that are better unsaid.
So, in the crevasse this now lurks
with woefully wonderless works:
discursive digressions
regarding obsessions
with muses and quixotic quirks.
Serpents in Egypt engraved images for each being
Unveiling the lack of discursive reasoning in the heavens
Not manmade patterns to represent sounds and reasonings
Oliver Goldsmith wrote plays&verse when he could
though disfigured with smallpox in childhood
Best known for'Deserted Village'
a discursive poem for that age
I could know no Self
without an Other
We could have no Child
without an EarthMother
No Ego
without an Earth-bound EcoSystem
I could understand no male
linear formation dominantly prominent
without a co-responding female circling
inflowing/outgrowing concomitance
I could not know severance bipolar
of either/or discursive logic
without feeling round wombed dipolar
environmental both/and nurturing
spiraling positive reiteration
revolving rounds of communication
seasonally developing
ecological peak nurturing communion
I could not form
positive 1
if not for informing/outgoing
co-passionate bipartisan
co-invested bilateral
binomial duo-binary
not negative co-related
half full-out/empty-in 0.
God's oral,
and Gaia's ancient ****
naturally spiritual laws
are win/win discursive,
not win/lose debating,
when climate polycultural conditions
are democratically healthy thriving
Not blaming,
judging,
shaming,
cursive,
as when monoculturing colonizations
of EurAsians autocratically
and kleptocratically sick
and barely monotheistically surviving
curiously endure inhumane denial
of runaway capitalist win/lose
LeftBrain dominant
straight white patriarchal
lose/lose ego/eco-fading systemic nihilism
Repression of ecowomanist mindfulness
lustiness
integrity
bilateral resilience
Suppression of post-traumatic climate stress disorder
Depression
of PolyCultural Sacred Law
for and of
humane sensory EarthTherapeutic Justice
Musical
mindfully mused
meditative medication
as Blue/Green
4/4
Who Are We For?
regenerative rhythmed
co-passioned
deeply resonant peace.
A Chair With Benefits
There are times when
I sit quietly in my oversized chair
And daydream in discursive
Patterns, running in full color
Surround sound and three D
Onto the blank canvass between my ears
Stories unfold in blazing imagination
Old experiences back with new
Twists and unexpected characters
Making for juicy memories and
New endings for long gone tales
Those twenty-minute zone outs
Energize me and fertilize my life
For waking real-time adventures and
The older I get the more often
Those moments wind up being
Poetry or the seeds of short stories
If I remember a snippet as I wake,
And it tickles my creative muse
That there is no price to pay for
Inspiration coming while I daydream
Sitting quietly in my oversized chair...
Perpetually Reasoning Why
Within the line of tedious thought a precarious perpetual rot
In a tensional tangled knot, an intensive intellectuals wrought
Passing sceptered seasons embroidered by relentless reasons
We look at times of turbulent treason a lacerated lashing lesion
Wise men with questions in peril of their secular seismic sessions
Renunciation of man's confessions reinventing recurring recessions
Evaluating evolved equations in reason of discursive verbal vibrations
Decisive declarations lost in humanities communal communications
A comprehensive cognition in realization of redundant recognition
We are the human condition suspended within a perpetual position.
Aug.25.2017
The Edge of Reason
Sponsored by: John Hamilton
"Rhythm of life"
Seed of life - in love and in lust - planted in the womb;
breeds, broods and grooms for it's way to the tomb!
Soothing froth to count on the way to tickle;
losing one's Self - in it's nature so fickle.
Not far away is anyone from that last walk;
no gender, no creed and no status for it to stalk!
Mark your bearer with good deeds of honour;
for everything is yearning in us for it to corner!
We sure don't like it and don't cherish the thought;
In time and space, every moment we fought!
Seeking more in all and from all - for all and for ever;
discursive and digressive, but on that thought we do quiver!
We grab in a hurry and greed for all matter and pride;
ephemeral are those needs and just moments away from slide!
Relish and savour in this vastness - here and beyond;
Remember a speck that we are and will be long since gone!
Tears of my eyes By Saiful Haq
Barging in with your stolid lies,
Firing gun amidst the corporate noise,
Cadging peace with my shuddering eyes,
Thee looked for the tears of my eyes.
Pariah ; you were once before,
Thee was the subject of deplore,
Abhoring humanity caring none who dies,
Thee looked for the tears of my eyes.
Once thee were an erudite scholar,
Debased by the leash on thy collar,
Sharing the same fate are the terrorist guys,
Thee looked for the tears of my eyes.
Thy plan turned out to be discursive,
As the Security authorities chided the offensive,
Witnessing the world of love,hate and lies,
None can see the tear of my eyes.
© Saif Ul Haq 2014
A silent presence
Gathering shelter
In verses stricken
Under logged curses
For serenity of moon.
There you fell asleep
Lulled by aftermath
In frozen tears
Shed by the rose
At advent of dawn
Dripping with dews.
What use of inviting fancies
Half buried under the sand
Depicted in pictorial reliefs
Discursive galleries
Of the ancient lands.
To seek consolations
In verbal episode
A smooth searched
Cannon
In liquid quilled verses.
is it me, or is it my inherent personality?
humanity has become strange, difficult to understand.
i may too have an insecurity
of these worldly and tragic complexities i have to withstand.
if only one valuable word could be triumphantly said,
such a word that would resurrect my soul from the immortal pain
then i would feel a sense of victory, and my loss thus paid.
whenever the sky roars with fury, i know that something cleansing is to
follow...rain.
i need to be rehabilitated back to my old ways
what was it that forbid me from joining them then?
i have done myself a terrible discursive, and now my heart wails.
it is still hard to trace, to trace what really led me to the den.
i have allowed them to infest their virtues in my territory
they have poisoned my behaviour like rust stains steel.
but now i know, that i will never be part of them, and it feels like an entry
into a cleansed state of mind, at my own free will.
and for all this, I AM AN OUTCAST
a slave to my inordinary past.