Zipping through the dark
Like lightening, fast and bright
No agenda, just flow
As courage builds in lack of sight
The heart expands in revelation
As the lungs widen in breath
Caring not for the formalities
That separate life from death
What comes to the runners
Is received and yielded in chorus
Having no right to claim meaning
All is in rhythm with the origin of SOURCE
It is what it is, vested soldier
Just be who you are with all His grace
Watch the darkness transform into light
As you chose to fully occupy given space
....vending the void
Written by Trudy Schrader on 07-23-2026
I heard cries
saw swarms of fist
crack heavens walls
I knew at a ripped age, how
and how not to be.
Nights, I held these ears closed
in hopes to drown this house
that shook like an earthquake.
I learned to pick up clouds of
body parts that lingered from
stormy rains
I wiped mirrors clean with bleeding
hearts, stuck in sunken repeat.
Thorns pricked these tiny fingers
as I placed mishaps of I Love Yous
in glass jars.
I saw my mothers pinched face in a
constant contortion of why's, masked
by pleasing smiles to ease the thunderstorm
I was nine picking up shattered formalities
calling dysfunction normal
I remained quiet, hid in cupboards that
were dollhouses
But, the floods that consumed her washed ashore
and these ears were now home to roars that once
echoed in her room
Twenty seven years just to putt,
Court still feels it was a short cut.
The white wigs left long back,
We’re still on the same track,
The slow snail courts snore, eyes half-shut.
____________________________
Happenings |08.09.2025| humour, justice
Note: A trial court takes 27 years on a murder case. Legal formalities, two years; framing charges, 14 years; and to conduct the trial, 13 more. And still, the high court feels, the trial court adopted a ‘short cut’ going in a ‘hurried manner’. And it orders retrial. Back to square one. Who can beat that?
Hoisted onto a moon ladder,
dizzying height could not phase her.
Inside reverie’s ring
she soars into the midnight air.
Wild smile and soft skin laid bare,
each star sparkles screaming.
Uninhibited so high up,
she’s now prepared for a closeup.
Flying from rung to rung
filled with clear infatuation.
Twenty four carat addiction,
too bright the glister hung.
Scenery transforms lightning fast,
the view’s here then a shadow’s cast.
Ride swiftly reckless soul,
feed insatiable fantasies.
Let go of cruel formalities,
a scandalous black hole.
"Having grown up in an idyllic village, I consider myself as blessed. I was rid of all rigid formalities of urban living. Enjoyed the artless innocence of countryfolks, breathed fresh air, occasionally pranced through wilderness, talking to wildflowers and butterflies" - By Poet
There’s nothing like the lovely rustic charm,
Sent out by far flung lush green country farm.
Where trees in glee sweep heaven with their crown,
And songbirds, the surrounding valley drown.
There the air, fresh and sweet like forest glade,
And Heaven blesses rich, the country wide.
Where the rural folk in their toil and pride,
With their artless and modest life reside.
To such idyllic bliss, I long to go,
Where life like a silent river shall flow.
The moon?
A king that needn’t tout his might,
just lounges up there, cool as a cucumber,
as stars tumble like glitter from some cosmic party,
just enough shimmer to keep us wondering:
who’s really in charge - us or them?
The sun elbows its way in,
boisterous and brilliantly loud,
flinging gold across the sky like confetti,
yelling, “Let’s go! Daylight’s wasting!”
It doesn’t ask for permission to set your soul on fire,
and if you’re not burning by now, that’s on you.
The ocean doesn’t bother with formalities.
It rolls in, pushes its weight around,
tosses your worries out to sea with a lazy,
“Nah, you’re done with those.”
There’s no negotiation, just the quiet peace
of letting go when you didn’t even know you needed to.
And the forest?
Old as the first breath,
it doesn’t rush, doesn’t care for clocks.
It whispers, “Stay still long enough, and maybe
you’ll remember how to grow.”
Roots so deep they don’t care if you notice—
because they know life is in the waiting,
and you’re a part of it whether you realise or not.
Gravity has no properties
No formal place of residence
There, a push, a pull of time
No education to speak of
Within, without a need to worry
A toy called inertia waiting on a cause
Gravity is your drunken friend at midnight
It takes your wife and steals your money
Leaves your wallet because it’s nice
And never lies because it’s in disguise
Gravity hates formalities like Robert
Let’s call it Bob because it bobs about
On stormy ocean surfaces
In outer space on waves of light
Riding surfaces of time and tide
Gravity is invisible to the touch
Rolling off the tongue into infinity
Sticking on to surfaces of other worlds
Turning at the curve of universes
Gravity is the dice of God
Who leaves nothing to chance
Tossing worlds like marbles to the stars
Swirling around in motion where they are
Gravity never sleeps beneath the sheets
It resides much deeper in the crevasses
The tiniest atoms want to have its baby
Down there in the fabric of time
Where crime abides
Two faces; two juxtaposed deportments; two qualities;
On one hand, past pains; on the other, future jollities
Janus, the Roman god of progress and dualities
Dwells with keys of the door, gate, and threshold formalities
I have it. Each one has. One is true. The other is false.
Safe like love and hope; heard-earned treasure-like brings many walts
Springing like hemlocks from mental mud insecurities
Brings manipulative and deceptive impurities.
Trust erodes; communion corrodes; inner turmoil is born.
With anger, fear, and sadness, equilibrium is torn.
Vocation is jeopardized; calm communion is curtailed;
Energy and synergy quirks and smirks are veiled and failed.
Confidence, compassion, and creativity are must.
Together with honesty, loyalty, love, hope, and trust
Learning from the past and flourishing into the future
And living and letting live be our monistic nature
Let's get wet and wild,
Under the scorching heat of the sun,
Forgetting the stress of the day,
Let's cool off in our briefs,
Skipping the formalities,
Tossing a fist full of water on each other,
Let's get wet and wild,
Expelling the heat from within
Unwinding with a bottle or two,
Floating carelessly from tired strokes,
Wriggling to the sounds of loud music,
While wrapped in the embrace of wetness,
Let's get wet and wild,
Not minding the cold that comes after,
Let's get caught up in the heat of esctacy,
Splashing pleasures of wet droplets,
From our troubled feet and groping hands,
Restlessly from one pool end to the other.
Copyright (C) 2023 - Sir D'Champ's Poetry.
It can't be known in its totality,
It seems to metamorphose and shapeshift,
It emphasizes human brevity,
It ushers the new dawn and builds a rift.
All that it brings to us we seek answers,
We are surrounded by perplexities,
Complexities stand erect like towers,
Observances are mere formalities.
The mind is the target and the bull’s eye,
We all tread the path of vicissitudes,
We wrestle, pray, meditate and push high
Life’s depictions are only platitudes.
Its entirety is hidden far beneath,
We go on a search but meet a brick wall,
Our hands can’t reach for all that lie underneath,
We see clearer and learn from every fall.
July 22, 2022.
It's All About Three Q's Poetry Contest,
Constance La France,
Life.
Om kaar
Identification off my soul is I
You are into the music with a meltification notes your bum bole your blessings are taken by sin
You are far away from arrogance and kill the formalities refrain to search his cilam as a parayness
You sprect Shiva (a) you dance with your friends on your dead body
You are ten dik avatars hey bole bum bole I my self feel that I am your ansha Sristrikarta vaibhav vilas
Har Har mahade
With love all
Jagdish Bajantri
Thirty eight years ago,
On to this very day.
You both walked down that sacred aisle
With two special words to say.
After all the formalities were done,
You both went home, to be as one.
To build a new life as husband and wife,
And you faced all the challenges to come.
You both should be so very proud,
Your children have grown up and flown.
You are now the greatest grandparents,
Your grandchildren won't leave you alone.
All the years we have known you,
Truer friends there never could be.
So we wish you well,on this special day,
YOUR ANNIVERSARY.
Autumns leaves fall from a tree
Swiftly drifting further from me
Autumn feels of home
Out of pace breathing under bone
Lay here hurting itching bleeding
Just a life distracted releasing
Although i wonder in disbilief
Just wanna carry weight for grief
Blood soaked hands of late
Running reverse collapse of fate
Lies distorted of formalities
Corpses pain my moralities
Suit up and stand still
The devils breath a chill
Dancing with men who scorns
Scalps worn on above their horns
Forgotten as a faulty dream
Ruptured vein saturated scream
Believe in hate anomaly
Repeat the void constantly...
Today, we were to have been meeting for the very first time
But our two beings immediately bonded tightly _ intertwined
And subsequently, we’re old friends., as one could now perceive
In quick truth, _ very good ole buddies _ if one had to believe
No! we’ve just met _ we harmoniously say to you _ corrected
As we both cling our glasses before we sip our wine _ accepted
To wit we marvel at our reborn lives and ponder our new names
And wonder how much of our present lives are totally the same
I feel as I have known you as I’ve known one all my life
And swiftly bestow the hype and entrust you with my gripe
Who’s your mother now _ and what about your father?
Oh, to heck with the formalities _ why do we even bother.
I’m just so glad we’ve found each other in our current lives anew
We’ve certainly lived shared lives before, a fact most obviously true.
~~~w12102019
After The Party
I learned the truth at eighteen years
that I would drink as older men
to join them and to celebrate
a party for the New Years Eve
my hounds tooth jacket was brand new
I tried to stand out like a star
to blend in with the older crowd
especially the feminine
athough I felt a bit demure
my first drink boosted confidence
engaging on my second scotch
timerity was on my side
My fifth scotch left me less inclined
my pate was spinning like a top
a queasy feeling had arrived
to empty my formalities
after the party I resolved
to replace my liquor with a Coke
maybe laced with just some rum
my misbegotten youth was spent
After The Party Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Anthony Slausin
June 29, 2019
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