I am convinced that no one on
planet earth, or outer space,
or in a place we call hell,
will descend or ascend to rush
to America's rescue. If they could
but muster the resolve, or if they had
the desire and will, they would surely
deliver us from ourselves. Such an "IF"
is the faintest of probabilities, and their inabilities
are most unfortunate. Nevertheless, even in these late
hours, there is a God beyond space and time who is able,
ready, and willing to hear our cry, even if it's but our faintest sigh.
092923PS
We want to be accepted
For who we are,
Not thrown away
Like rubbish.
We don’t want our skills
To go to waste,
We want to show people
What we can do.
Wherever we are,
Whatever we’re doing,
We want to be included,
Not sitting at the side.
What people don’t realise
Is that disabilities
Are not inabilities.
We are fed up with
People like them.
We want acceptance.
We are real people
With feelings too.
07/06/22
stress is self made
stress is self inflicted
stress is a byproduct of ones confession
stress is a byproduct of ones confusion
stress amplifies ones inabilities
stress exemplifies ones chaos
stress can only help those with no hope
stress can only hurt those with dreams fulfilled
Dripped in broth, our chicken fingers lie
Our inabilities, our sorrows, our griefs
Cringing in agony, to be in, other ways
Mirror reflection of our masked pain
In a world of laughter and show off.
Words seem only an inevitable
Redundancy of a reason
To hold the ground.
Dripped in broth, our chicken fingers lie
Still the orange morning rise,
Unashamed, unyielding
everyday.
The political party is a pot
Brewing beer not of barley
Preserved for the toppers not the lot
It is a beer to convince by deception to pry
Upon the minds of the lot
The powers of the political party steer
Mainly gained through the intoxication
After partying with the beer
Maliciously present party prediction
Based on the lot’s vulnerability and fear
The powers of the political party steer
The over-ambitious manifesto brewed in the pot
And the lot get intoxicated with this beer
Made of poly-tricks and propaganda of a sort
Then power is granted to the party by the lot’s votes out of fear
Then the manifesto becomes a shelf occupant
Bearing in mind their bellies, bullies, bribery, and bureaucracy,
Finding definitions for their inabilities, and plant
In the lot the hope for the future of a true democracy
While they gather our coffers for their future like the ant.
By God’s grace, we can rejoice midst difficulties
He upholds us from our infirmities
For us to overcome inabilities
And engage in ministerial activities.
Through the Lord’s might, we can be joyful against labor pain
He fortifies our faith along hardship’s strain
For us to testify about heavenly gain
He assures us to reap* toil’s harvest-grain.
Galatians 6:7 Be not deceived; God is not mocked: for whatsoever a man soweth, that shall he also reap.
August 5, 2019
All discussions lead to all conclusions
every mistake guides to apparent lessons
its in the risks that we get reparations
but we all seek refuge in comfort and ignore confrontations
so feel oblivious of their thoughts
abide to their feelings in rescue of their ego
prejudice takes control and the reign of failure is established
in this kingdom of distorted priorities
should I give up on my actions because of predetermined reactions
is predicament a source of valid perception
factual of fictual which state of life defines me?
past present or future where is reality best distinguished
the past good or bad cannot define who we are
what we can do or where we can be
past was gone so fast that no room for edit can be
the future is too far that we can only ascertain at the moment what we are
the present is subject to change and retain
accustomed with surprises and innovations
this is the best state of true self
it defines inabilities from extreme abilities
How often does the battle rage
in scripting men and women of youthful age
to the war on which we lay our rights
calling all to the battle cry of fear and fight?
Freedom comes with a disastrous price
when misspoken words enrage the hate and internal vice
of gun and cannon roar to steal away the best of lives
only to be recorded in nameless historic archives.
Combative battlegrounds of confrontational hostilities
mark the flesh and blood scourge of future inabilities
to struggle to live in peace and learn to compromise
for land or some fool-hearty franchise shaded heroic disguise.
There is no righteous war to sanitize the tears
and children's cries left behind to remember and agonize.
Their plea was virtually this,
Give us one more chance to live again,
Without frailties and stigmas,
To prove to the world our worth,
To explore this world
Beyond borders of this limitations,
To exhibit our capabilities despite inabilities,
Chance of immune equality,
To produce more Einstein the world never had,
Where we are void of isolation and prejudice,
And we are not forgotten like yesterday's newspaper,
A chance where no wooden structure is needed to support this bony posture,
Where every limb is filled with potency,
A chance we would not be hidden as antiquities,
When our social esteem becomes our self-motivation,
Keeping us at the apex of opportunity,
Oh! Give us this one chance to live again,
The gods must be listening.
The neurons fire and fire
Until achieved
Hearing the excited tones
Smelling the fresh air
Feeling the loving warmths
Looking for new spaces
Cooing for nutrient filled milk
Moving stronger with each trial
Building with every tool
Venturing into areas unknown
Discovering abilities and inabilities
Failing and falling
Discerning, the mind's power
Understanding, the knowledge gates
Mastering, the talented dream
Winning and raising
Living and dying
I stretch from distant shores to far-off climes,
My bounty you cannot measure in a stretch;
So welcome and walk on my belly as you survey
The gems and mementos you may want to fetch.
I’m the cradle of the scurrying mammal kind,
The source of the pompous modern breath;
I hold the priciest in my colonized bosom –
All the balms you need for life and health.
I’m the mother of six full-grown daughters
But now that they are grown to consenting height,
They mock and laugh at my backward ways,
And the finger that fed them they deride and bite.
I have no use for the gold nuggets you chase
Nor any need for the diamonds you crave,
For I know not how to fashion a plane or a car,
The inabilities that make you think I’m a slave.
Come, trample and plunder your mother’s belly
And kill the spritely womb from which you came,
Because age is about to execute her anyway,
For she’s old and confined and lame.
The feelings aren’t healing,
Discontent continues wheeling,
The outer skin of my patience desires to find its true meaning,
My heart is causing friction,
The inabilities need fixing before time runs out,
The pressures of being the one,
The man,
The one man that can oversee the potential growth
and harvest it seeds,
The one who initiates and provides stability
has an underwhelming handicap.
Can I save myself?
Is the rot going to end up simply killing me?
I was born without a voice to sing, but I sing every chance that I get;
I was born with having two left feet, but I’m out dancing every step;
I was born without an artistic bone, but I love painting portraits of the sunset;
Being born without ability hasn’t stopped me from doing anything, yet.
I was born without athletic form, but, in sports, I love to compete;
I was born without a musical ear, but my guitar makes me complete;
I was born without intelligence, so a few classes I had to repeat;
I was born without a lucky star, but I won’t give up in the face of defeat.
If you only do those things that you do well, you are missing out on so much more;
I won’t be disgraced by coming in last place, was a promise that I once swore;
So, come along and join me now, in something you don’t do so very well;
We’ll have some fun and everyone who doesn’t like it can go to hell!
Much said and done
Put hard efforts behind
Still no change envisaged
No transformation takes place
So sign of improvement
You may be puzzled to find out
Where things go wrong
You start blaming the system
And keep nagging around
As it is the easiest way in life
To see yourself in the right pedestal
And visualize others on wrong line
Paint them all with defected brush
And unmatched colors
You see your painting get devalued
Without your knowledge you become an artist
Mediocre and cheap showing your
Own all inabilities and weakness
You are poet of your own poems
And words come from your heart
Heart is the center of your being
The source of your perception
The invisible mirror placed inside the body
To reflect you and your mentality
Feed it with good stuff
Keep chanting ‘’ your desired word ‘’
And get quality out put
Clean it now and then
To have an excellent image
Of the things you behold
And see a huge change
Transforming life from lower to a higher plane
And lead a blissful life.
A Dream of Love...
And now,the fruit of
A dream,I had buried.
Surprises me with life...
I worried,the dream might
Be embarrassed if ever
It came into being
Ashamed at its inabilities.
I hid it from prying fingers
Yet it surprises me,comes to life...
All I did was think about it often.
Often enough, I hoped
To save it from forgetfulness,
Age and a bad memory.
Yet it surprises me,comes to life...So soon....
I loved too much I guess.
Maybe God felt sympathy,
Gave me a gift.
This gift
Of love
I'd rather not be given.
I wish to snatch it from the heavens,
Wish to make it happen.
Yet it surprises me...so easy...
The fruit I'm given;
This Love.
I cannot savour.
But then I can't not accept it.
I really must have it.
Cause it is after all
My dream.My love.
Dream...Cause it will come to life...
Dream...And bring it to life.
-Viraj Shah
Posted for Contest Any Poem/Any form- for new poets of Soup. Posted on 26/11/2013
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