Dear Poetry,
Wait! I AM poetry.
So, let's make that, "Dear Poet".
Dear Poet,
Why do you write me?
Or, should I say, "Why DID you write me?"
After all, I'm already being read by my audience.
Isn't that right, reader?
I wrote you, dear poetry,
to express whatever crazy thought or feeling
was in my brain or heart,
giving it a chance to escape
that bat house or that broken down heap,
knowing that no one has to listen,
as the reader
(if you can believe it)
is reading you voluntarily!
...and, by the time you are being read, dear poetry,
I, the poet, am long gone,
and the person with egg on their face,
(i.e., the "poetry")
is you!
Sincerely,
the Poet (er, the Poetry, er, oh, for heaven's sake!)
It is said that the mind
Is a terrible thing to waste.
I do indeed believe it true.
That is why by God's grace,
I thrive to maintain 'peace of mind',
Never giving others 'A piece of my mind'.
However, sometimes I allow other things to
Happen inside of this guarded mind of mine.
Sometimes, 'forgetting' gets the best of me;
Like writing a letter and forgetting to mail it.
Attention, contest soupers.
I.e. Some time ago, I wrote a poem
For a contest; thought it might place;
You guessed it. When I checked, I had not
Placed, nor was my poem ever submitted.
It is also said that, "winners never quit,
And quitters never win". How true it is.
It's also true that, 'winners never forget,
And forgetters never win'.
Oh well. Maybe next time.
An unkept man lay down on the cold street.
He had no blanket and nothing to eat.
People passed by, but no attention shone.
Not one penny shared to help him along.
Alone, beatdown, a nobody, and cursed.
His existence is viewed as less than dust.
Gets little from the bureaucratic maze.
Nothing but a bush to shelter his head.
Jesus had no home for rest.
But some offered Him their best.
Some held Him with contempt.
Yet to the cross for the world he went.
The homeless are some folk’s vile bitterweed.
They shout out, “Cut them down and burn their seed.”
Have they not heard the words of Christ Jesus?
“I was a stranger, and you took me in”.
No easy cures for this weight on our land.
Most agree it has gotten out of hand.
But stalwart and gallant souls must come forth.
And show that all of creation has worth.
When the world turns a blind eye
Others must say, “Here am I”.
And just who that may be?
It’s His church, called the ecclesia.
{Note: “ecclesia” in Greek: the “called-out (ones)”, i.e., the church.}
And I'm looking at new York canvas
Man in the mirror
Big lou Adler
?
Copy print
He teaches desire as illusion in anger
Next day air
In the lonely night
Without a lonely write
It's the next day bourbon
Forced regard
Article un, lend, take ribbon
Set type
Articulate
Juliet Society friendly alien
Anime graphic coupe design
Interworx server adlib maintenance up?
Cellular diplexing and atenuation adlib it
On atom photon plan it
Photon up
And back
Illuminate addiction devicing
"Mobile" station "worker"
Involved in grid i.e. infrastructure bands
Desktop publishing rubbish
Good for nor bot Chomsky
demons in illusion anger desire
Sniffy states of adhd
Slow jam design access key level nerd dropout
L.A. Doll
New York Doll anime coupe sign ups
502 bad gateway newswire interupt day
Your bad
Illiterate rebels
Body body body
a r~a~g~i~n~g beast that r~o~a~r~e~d loud through dry grasslands
e~m~b~l~a~z~o~n~e~d just like sunlight rays in forested ~s~e~a~s~
a glowing friend who radiates love's embrace
a relentless enemy that rides on a wild horse
a beacon of hope that beams brilliant stories
for darkness to gleam and for b.r.i.g.h.t.n.e.s.s to awaken
a fierce warrior who pierces the dark night unscathed
yet still consumes the trees whole
in its vastness, water bows
the golden orange-red glove worn by darkness
when sojourning through a borderless furnace
yet b~u~r~n~i~n~g—like blue b.l.a.z.e.s
it still cooks the meals
that kitchens conjure
and still b~u~r~n~s grubs to a-s-h-e-s
when eyes s~l~e~e~p and noses go on vacation
we kneel for it to conflagrate better as a friend
than to stir with eyes as s.c.a.r.y as being trapped in a dark tunnel—
but in life's sojourn,
we can't but still welcome its f.i.e.r.y flavors...
still recall the attic room
where I . . .
p
l
a
y
e
d
with dolls
the room o v e r lo o k e d a garden
each d.a.y I would imagine things
and was soon
s
e
t
t
ing sail
on a NEW adventure
under the spell of make b.e.l.i.e.v.e
MEMORIA TECHNICA i.e
A.I.
wi-fi.
You come, proper and prim to dream,
False as real I’ve to deem in dream.
How long this grim façade can go?
To you it won’t so seem-- our dream,
But too much ‘tis for me to bear,
My pain spills over rim from dream.
To help me O come, rise like cream,
Let not grim, fun like seem in dream.
A work ‘tis of a twosome team
To make it all of vim-- our dream.
_______________________
Ghazal |21.10.2024|dream, humour
Poet’s note: This is a light-hearted, tongue-in-cheek ghazal that takes ‘our dream’ as its radif or refrain. Its qafia also rhymes with radif. The whole ghazal is on the same theme, i.e., dream. The first four couplets are said by the suffering woman, the last one by the man. The pattern followed is AA/BA/CA/DA/EA.
A few scattered yellow wood cabins
a swimming pool surrounded by pines
a pier to fish from, a lake not to go in
‘cept for the stinkpots* and sailboats *i.e., motorboats
marshmallow roasts by the campfire at dusk
a ghost story or two to relate
along with the hotdogs and burgers that day
the ghosts evicted whatever we ate
HEADLINE NEWS
Dear Readers (of every major news publication in the USA):
Our apologies for the following error, which we’ve made almost daily for
18 years, since 2006:
. for misidentifying Hamas*-controlled Gaza (as ‘Israeli-occupied Gaza’).
We sincerely regret the thousands of deaths caused by our inadvertent
error, as well as any inconvenience to you, dear readers.
~ Editors-in-Chief ...
*Hamas is officially recognized as a terror organization by the US
government It is responsible for murdering thousands of Jews in
Israel and around the world over the past 30+ years -- as well as
tens of thousands of deaths of Arabs living under its (Hamas')
civilian authority (i.e., in Gaza).
An enchanting damsel 'Maya' *
diamonds shine in her ephemeral eyes
roses adorn dreamlike moments
and peacock feathers float in space.
opulence of this goddess soothes,
Yet tremors in mind reverberates
diving deep within to decipher the arcane
An ineffable world, is only a projection
with million fine strands of attachment,
combining synaptic neurons in epochs.
In immanent beauty of wide sensations
everyone and everything is wrapped in 'Me'
But beyond the cognitive darkness,
in the neon of nocturnal mist,
thoughts no longer are made of words,
things no longer have any name.
Our existence detached from cycles
resonates in hallways of consciousness.
When our eyes close, the mind opens.
As an illumination within transcends
higher and higher to an unblocked sky,
surpassing all boundaries till infinitum.
Profound sentience pirouetting to eternity,
an omnificent enigma of boundless ecstasy.
*'Maya' is a Sanskrit word means “that which is not” (i.e. illusion)
1.There are many different causes of paralysis.
2.The body is affected and unable to function.
3.When nerve signals are cut off Paralysis occurs.
4.Muscle control in any part of the body comes and
goes periodically i.e. from time to time.
5.The patient feels pain originating from the legs.
6.Tiring easily and difficulty in mounting stairs.
7.Poisoning with toxic chemical can cause neuromuscular paralysis.
8.Acetylcholine is found in the synapse between nerve cells and muscle cells.
9.Poisons and toxins that attack the enzyme cause acetylcholine to accumulate in the nerve synapse,paralyzing the muscle.
10.Relatives & Friends puts chemical in food or drink on the behest of Notorious Don Zafar Bhai Urf Supari Killer.
Please. Would someone correct me
If I am wrong or fail to understand?
Maybe it's just me. Or maybe I'm dreaming.
But I am at a loss and find it rather
Nonredemptive when in America, we are
Continually speaking in terms of;
The first this or the first that,
Relative to race, ethnicity, or religion?
i.e., The first Catholic, Jewish, or Protestant this,
The first female that, the first male this, the first
Black that, the first Asian this, the first Hispanic
That. And the list seems endless.
Will we ever get to the place when the mentioning of such
Will not matter? Is it wishful thinking? Is it probable or
Even possible that one day, we will all simply be AMERICANS?
Make no mistake, I understand America's sordid past and our
Dehumanizing history of disenfranchisement, but must we
Go on and on like this? Maybe I'm wrong, but I just want
To be AN AMERICAN.
093022PS
The self perception of any male,female or transgender is strengthen by a medical report not just by his claim that he is a man or a woman.The claim will have to be supported by any kind of medical report which state its gender (whatever it will be)
First of all the bill refer to,”Transgenders“ and not any person therefore the question that anyone can change their sex by their self perceived will,does not apply here.
Secondly if medically a transgender is neutral,i.e neither male nor a female, then why medical board should assign sex to that person??And furthermore how they will do that??Therefore it should be allowed to transgender himself to decide what gender they consider socially acceptable to them...
Longing, dream and prayer is that
Icy streams of your eyes be mine
Long soft hair spread on my shoulders
Years of darkness want you to shine!
Love is utmost care for someone,
I'm the one who cares for you!
Like hue to flower you are to me
You are my love, is not that true??
September 16, 2022
________________________________________
Lilian Poem: A format of poem introduced by Nazim ZarSinner and contains at least one Quatrain which is acrostic with LILY i.e. a quatrain whose four lines begin with L, I, L and Y respectively.
Sub Categories
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