Sounds of burning water lilies
Disorient the future contours,
A shivery breath fills
My cheery corner.
The blazing shadow of the sun crushes
The sphinx of my star,
And the promises dissolve
Before the strangled star.
Immortal is the writer’s eyesight,
ball of rolled up phrases and rhythms;
Particle of sand through fingertips
portal of blurred pictures for poems;
Meant to be captured in her wordplay
spent she sifted through blue lit thoughts;
Disorient edges slip to focus,
torment is soothed her pen fires gunshots.
If there were
only MORAL coins
and no MINT coins
people's would have
conducted sans sins
Sin smeared
Moral coins
would be akin to
Self Demonetised
Unfit coins for trade
good for scrap grade
Pristine Moral coins
would be like medals
glorifying character
Premium coins
best for any trade
It's time to have
NOBEL PRIZE
for High Morale
rewarding uprightness in
socio-political category
It's time, schools have
Honesty, Integrity
as mandatory subject
laying gen-next's cornerstone
of character super structure
Immorality, Corruption is blooming
having 12.months spring season
Corroding roots of Values
How long tree will hold terrain?
With no oxygen, no fruits
how long Society will sustain?
Nursing Roots,
Nursing Morality
ought to be top priority
Else corruption white ants
feeding on cellulose of greed
will disorient stability, safety
and hollow out society timber
MORAL coins or
MINT coins?
Value based society or
Anarchy based society?
Time to mint Chances
Time to make Choices
_____________________________
© Dr Hitendra Mehta, India
Specious logic, serpentine manoeuvres, designed to disorient heart and mind, with a view to securing a psychological advantage are seen through by centred presence, which yet humorously indulges the play underway awhile, that the adversary’s eventual sense of triumph be not mitigated by discordant rejoinders proposed by lower mind, having recognised that ephemeral waves of the ocean rise and subside in time as ordained, melding with the vastness.
performing our role
as dreams within dreams unfold ~
let us smile awhile
01-December-2022
this is... confusing and increases
from tense to intense
I woke up with less pain
but it was in the flesh and now
it only gets worse you can see
as it increases and is tense
and how it stings and hurts
and everything indicates that it is inside
it hurts inside and unbalances
unbalance and disorient
it doesn't calm and intensify
it doesn't get better and that's how it stays
it increases and then it gets worse
confuses violent deconcentrates
gets tense and is confused
and now it gets a lot worse
it gets worse just now
it always gets worse just at the tense time
in the tense hour when the worsening increases.
Two old people took a road less traveled
Recently they did so
Age can confuse, disorient
Sometimes bad things happen though
The road ended choices presented
Should they go around the block
Back to the road traveled familiar
Or onto a road maybe see livestock
We chose the latter way to go
Time to us seemed to move slow
But then we realized, we were lost
Nothing looked familiar, although
Beauty seemed to surround the senses
Grandeur drew us to forget
We drove on in resplendence
Then a road her attention did whet
A road quite well traveled appeared
He bypassed in his daze
She told him to turn around(they did)
The way home found, glory! we praise
You can keep your suicidal suit wardrobe wars...drawers of destruction
In your consumption of insubordinate illusions...intrusions of insanity
~~~
You can keep your vanity and desired disease...appease the ego
In your tuxedo tailor-made by tyrants...compliance and conformity
~~~
You can keep your deformity and defamation...population desensitized
In your advertised agony and defeat...secrete societal sermons
~~~
You can keep your damaged demons & whores...centaur’s modern maze
In your tangled haze of hallucinations...limitations, and liabilities
~~~
You can keep your disabilities of discontent...disorient of discipline
In your simpleton slaved seduction...obstruction in obedience
March.31.2018
Societal Discontent
Sponsored by: Brendan J. Simons
'Happy Easter Everyone'
MIND BLOWER –
JOURNAL XIII
Dreams can be weird
crazy. True.
But a totally
senseless dream can
disorient you,
Befuddle your first
waking minutes.
Like, this wildness
has lasted so long
into sleep
As to literally
infect the waking
awareness.
One must now
examine, carefully,
one’s daily
routine to
regain sanity.
Brushing teeth – you
are an artist
painter
cleaning The
Waling Wall.
Putting on your
clothes – you
imagine you’re
laying on
skin.
You step into the
kitchen gingerly –
you might
be atop a high
precipice.
Fortunately the
first cup of coffee
brings you
back – it
looks muddy, but
tastes o.k.
In the last few I
determine to pinch
myself
awake.
Sanity is very dear.
Alzheimer’s could be
near.
I might not be beautiful,
But I could intoxicate you,
Melt through you like an aged Scotch Whiskey.
I could make you dizzy with how you make me feel.
That kind of happy can be tranferred from my eyes,
Straight to your heart.
I could disorient you with my kiss,
It would feel like flying!
The take off of lips first connecting,
Then deeper familiarity lifts us higher.
We would open our eyes and register surprise,
That our feet are still on the ground.
I don't need a perfect body to get you thirsty to drink me in,
You would savour my softness....my fullness,
I could make you drunk on me.
Just give me your lips.
© 2012
Ruby Honeytip
disappoint, disavowed, disingenuous, displace
disastrous, disapprove, disallow, disadvantage, disaffect
disagree, disappear, disapprobation, disarray, disassociate
disbelieve, dishearten, disharmony, dishonest, disinterest
disguise, disenchant, disengage, disfavor, disgrace
disdain, discredit, discourteous, disconnect, discontent
discombobulate, disconcert, discontinue, discordant
discourage, disdain, disjunct, dislike, disloyal, dismal
disorder, disorient, disparage, disown, disparity, dispassion
dispirit, displeasure, dispossess, discriminate
dispute, disqualify, disquietude, disregard, disrespect
disrupt, dissension, dissociate, distort, distress
distance
Wont you find me here?
Drifting in an expanse of swirling storm
Outstreched fingers graze debris...
recklessly circling reminders.
Stand in the eye with me
Hold
This
Ground.
Lick our wounds rebounding
Warriors victoriously smiting circumstance
leaving wolves discouraged
disparaging darkness with insane glee
Walk here and find me
Reach out think here
You create me and I construct you
Piece me in missing places
Mending voids delicate and knowing
I slay inherited growths of insecurity
Stating truths untold to your beautiful ears
Combine
Know this warmth....
Let these branches sprawl
grow in all directions to withstand walls closing in
A grand old tree would remain...generations of our eyes
taking glance from limbs strong and true
You crush my cycle--end it's existence
I'll destroy your boundary...kill it's constriction
Our tower stronger and rooted
Yet with loftier cloud grazing height
lets disorient ourselves in this foreign altitude
Touch this sky with me
far reaching the endeavor of time
clinging to the monumental chime
our governor of time elected by big business
waking and eating and all that ends in ING
the governor big clock puts us all in shock
time to work or time to lunch
or for those with money time to brunch
time to die or fall in love
time for mating of the peaceful dove
the governor elect pleads to us all
to change big clock in the fall
to shade the day and lengthen the night
to disorient the birds that take flight
but as mercy goes and is found
once again big clock is wound
for the thing in spring is to go ahead one
to shed light on us all
reassuring the governor elect
will once again be the one we select
the wheels just thumped
a jazz beat
(and it woke me
from sleep- with my Lunch
Poems) that made me think
I was somewhere else
like the drug-
stores
that all look the same
inside
only nothing like that nausea.
(not the sweat I get
from the stale air-
conditioning
not that prefab
disorient
from offwhite
prefab aisles
that all twist
in the same direction, all
born in
weak perfection).
the startling rhythm displaced
me;
its syncopated thump
contused me
and left these little ugly rainbows
on my arms
and that tattoo really goes
at the start from each station
but here
the cadence has slowed
(like the wagon wheels in an old movie
that spin the wrong way)
as we move backward it sounds more like a train,
more humane.
The wheels catch their groove and the pace relaxes
the bumps disappear -
it sounds more like a train.
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