Though the time,
Not possessing
Me and mine.
To think myself
Through a shelf!
Among myself.
Yesterday,
Got a passing pass
Furnishing me
In a thinking,
To think about,
For better tomorrow!
As of now,
In a search trip,
Of myself.
Searching for,
The stolen
And a tomorrow!
Today went along,
Sacrificing itself!
For sometime,
For another,
And the one
Won’t ever come!
An “ex” phones up to tell me that she’s broke:
Republicans get beaten in a vote:
unwary tourists, chowing down on goat:
some moron doesn’t understand my joke:
uncomprehending, tells me that I’m “woke”:
destroying doubters with a Dumas quote.
The Sinking of the Maine – that hapless boat
was downed by Randolph Hearst’s own payroll folk,
and not the Cubans. Furnishing the fact
to someone who’s been clueless all this while
is gratifying. Quarter-backs get sacked,
but idiots are taken down with guile.
Exposing crass stupidity with tact,
and subtle humour. These things make me smile.
reflective intervals
ambient in tone
& atmosphere
sustained
solo simplicity
in
floating repetition
expressive
dissonance
of symmetrics
in
blurred suspense
delicate progressive
serenity
furnishing
ethreal
resonations
satie on m.youtube.com/watch?v=FS6o3qFimsc gynopedia
Halfway through learning life you find therein the games
Played by the oblivious and those who made names
Then your simplicity in view begins being challenged
As make believe is by hard facts rearranged
That society is both with and without bearing
For the old warmongering and peace brokering
Continue on side by side
Each taking turns at being follower and guide
And since good and evil formidably are frontiers
Furnishing many men with careers
Many men have become showmen
Obliviously courting omen
They play for whoever pays the pipers
Be they a flock or a brood of vipers
For only to themselves are they loyal
And money is their hearts’ royal
And they call their desertion a sacrifice
Though it be a cunningly justified compromise
And all these the young wait to ruthlessly learn
As we still claim to fight a brighter day to earn
K. Muitherero
So far, the reddest river
But does not flow forever:
A coursing through enclosures
Vessels furnishing closures…
For journeys should Heart Pump thank:
They would cease, if The Heart Sank
To be left a congealed mass
While owners eyes ‘doomed shut glass…’
Lots of information stores,
Not the same a saint’s and a whore’s;
Medics who checked the river
Could pick out one with fever…
Many things run in the blood,
Some of them unleashed ‘foul flood’
The Best from this Red Fluid ‘Gift’
Which from parents did lift…
On robes Automatic Stain -
Their wearers always in pain:
Means they should face the way home
And for replacement dress comb.
While dealing with blood: gloves,
For even he that one loves.
Ours is one nation, under God;
a God who rules not by division
but by his children's combined strengths;
a God who governs not by inflicting
pain and suffering, but by healing; a God
who loves not power but the Power of Love.
A God who gives all to His Creation, furnishing
our needs as a mother nurtures her newborn.
A God who does not hoard and accumulate but
releases to share. A God that does not
threaten and condemn but reasons and
forgives. America has turned from Heaven
opting for a New World Order. America has
adopted the primitive religion of Instinctive Man.
Forgotten the realization that, the Devil is not always
a horned creature with a maniacal laugh...but,
in fact, more often than not, the evil reflection we see in
a mirror, the worship of a Godless smirking self.
Vote them Out!
Shouldn’t we readily agree,
Not to it like a decree,
Feeling really very free,
Unlike the under-lock-and-key,
That glances are for lent newspapers,
That shouldn’t in the borrowers hands last?
And to a reader, the foremost of his helpers,
Subduing the passages fast?
Men at the fascinating linger a glance,
But at The Suspicious glances steal,
Like detectives do on any sneaking chance,
With the demand for them damned real,
Every fired momentary glance,
Still a penetrative lance:
The would-have-been-good-enough,
For Prophet Elijah’s finishing off,
By the Baal Worshippers in a war dance,
And about him long begun to prance.
Normal glance: an attention in The Military,
Let alone The Stolen of the Gloomily Solitary,
With a frightful interest in Suicide,
But also appraising the merits of Genocide.
Hatch though glances do the poorest in detail,
Most of their reports rather a retail,
The looker furnishing scant contentment,
His eyes giving a fresh employment:
The longer look of curiosity that wasted the cat,
And demeanor of one who’d soon smell some rat.
The bright tint,
Of the beaming sun,
Recklessly, hapazardly,
Settling, scattering itself,
Through the bounty of nature,
The thick deep dark woods,
Furnishing the brutes,
The Brookes,
With eternal Sunbeam,
And solace;
The minute lithics and mighty beasts,
Laying in the Haven,
In sheer consolation,
Fearless,
Unconscious,
Heedless,
To even fathom life's unforseen perpetual occurances
So many local stores have closed
It’s not the way that I supposed
The neighborhood would look today;
It feels more like I went away
And landed in a different place
Where unseen beings did erase
Familiar shops and theaters, too,
Replacing them, at least a few,
With chains you can find anywhere.
The local flavor isn’t there,
Yet brand-new tenants in the ‘hood
Will flock, as builders knew they would,
To shop there, spending endless hours
Furnishing their tall glass towers.
Time flies on, but more and more
I miss the way things were before.
The wane of the sun has raised its finger
And the sun is wielded to bed
Life below lays forlorn, bereft of light
A posh dusky sheet is spread
Of a trillion zillion lozenge sequins
That float in accord with a big crescent pearl
Furnishing a mystique chic decor
Freights of flicker dangle off the feet of these treasures
Some snowy, others scarlet and a few disco
All flirting with every eye below
Fairies take errands along the silver lining, sprinkling stardust.
Wonder rides the backs of my billows of fascination
And I cannot resist
But surrender my eyes to the nebula to flirt back
Good old days,
Our ancestors finished wise,
Furnishing humor still to laugh at,
Small in number but beautiful and humble,
In small,small communities like birds,
Every person had a name since birth,
But all similar,difficult to come familiar,
Confused in the usage of names,
They picked some nicknames like icing over cake,
To ease the identity signatures in case,
The nicknames kicked fading his name,
It carried reasons fit to all seasons,
Cat,one lazy,
Goat,one engaged in gossips,
Fox,one very canny,
Bull,one useful,
Rat,who steals,
Snake,who is always in anger,
Chicken,one who sells chicks,
Bear,who is in dark complexion,
The village today like a zoo!
Name men's but nicknames animals bear,
The ancestors fallen and turned into dust today,
Their master minds stand tall and still intact!
JAMES PHRASIS
AN INMOST SOUL AGLOW
Art,a universal spirit with
many distinct manifestations
with spontaneous productions.
The human genius of inward
attraction sheds divine splendour
with infinite riches,to generate
a ray of activity as an idea or
conception in the mind.Art is
positive,a substantive majesty,
an inmost soul aglow.Served
by nature,the menial of the artist
furnishing his informing eye,smiles
before the window of conception
in the performers soul with the tender
freshness of dawn.In a lingering glance
using the fruits of imagination to
admirable advantage to actualize
an idea with human sweetness,
pregnant with meaning,carrying
the dew and fragrance of God into
the commonest nook of daily life.
from Lectures and Miscellanies by Henry James
Listen to me recite this phrasis on youtube under my pen name ichthyschiro
Fully embraced creaturehood-
I throw off the shackles of man
Those inching forward gripping hands
I am pristine, each vertebrae notch
Nerves flow, aligning axis of earth
The sound of wind enters profound
i stand forthright, the creature I am
Summoning gargoyle strength
The lion of the sun untapped
Chopping wood, furnishing flowers
nature caressed knows no hours
My jaw finally rests and sets- an achievement!
Solidity of creatures nested among others
Birds and pollen, rocks and wood
Man relinquishes all power
As i sink into creaturehood
Sweet lips of rolling frost will whisper slumber
to the restless wraiths across the hill--
those soft, impatient ghosts who couldn't fathom
their own summer's end-- quite content
with furnishing cool breezes
where the mortals played...their own mortality
delayed.
Now kissed with spirit wisdom
while the earth reclines
and spirit night descends, the winter friend
invites them on, past harvest time, to sleep,
and then to frolic with eternity
when launched from Gaia's hill
to consciousness anew.
Sweeter lips than these, bereft of blood,
return the messages
we do not always hear. Yet still
the pilgrims from a timeless plain
will never cease their whispering
to us, that we may not forget
their love.
~
Every star
is someone eles's son
(shield your eyes)
shrug off hate
from everyone
familiar place
been here before
thousands of nights
the ocean shore
coasts are changing
minds align
hate and fear
must now resign
connect the dots
move my child
tame the shy
wake the wild
shred advice
relayed from the miser
castrate cancer
obstructing the wiser
transcendental
the hydrogen burns
furnishing life
each time earth turns
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