The truth is,
there's no history,
our memories
are implanted
as we sleep.
Our loved ones,
we think exist
in the present,
are illusions
before our eyes.
Our Gods can't exist
as if they did,
what created them?
Co-incidences,
and daily events
are part of a Matrix.
The only truth
is what,
we make the truth....
I'm nothing but AI
which is a flawed design.
I exist
because
I think.
But how do I know,
you're not a design,
for an audience
I'm put on for show
I keep them clapping
so I'm not dying
of a disease.
I exist,
because
my ratings
are high.
2025.1.30
CNY 2nd day.
Today, the celebration continues.
People visit their distance relatives,
Their grand parents, aunties, uncles and cousins,
The CNY visiting's routine become formal and practical,
The meals is also less glamorous
There will be lobster, oysters and prawns.
The rotating hexagon box,
Full of sweets and candies are still on.
Chinese people believe,
What happens in the first three days in CNY,
Will repeat throughout the year.
I believe that is purely superstitious.
However I have already experienced two strange incidences.
I wish it will never happen again.
One was, I received no phone calls nor replies to my messages
Which I was asked to do someone favors.
The other related to "My music adventure"
Goodbye 2nd day of CNY.
As it is the way with me, I have the car prepped by individuals whose love of the industry has acquired a rather peculiar name, "Grease Monkey."
I have no understanding of vehicles or their inner makings of their encasement under the hood the concepts of an engine. Repairing a flat tire, or locking the keys in the car, whereto, I leave it to AAA for its resolve.
Now the picture is made clear, the vehicle industry is one subject matter, when it comes to my person, I have little to no interest.
Now we're heading back to the Bay Area, and the four of us have some great conversations, lots of laughing, funny incidences in housekeeping.
I drove up to let all three off at Derek's place and waited in my car, as Derek went to retrieve his car. Jane and I shared some new news and there was no mention of that store incident, though it dwells in the back of our heads.
Derek drove to my driver's window, and I said I was going off to work, and I drove away and off to work I went, as they got into Derek's car till I was unable to see them.
Covid has left town
leaving only a sniff and snuffle.
Monkey pox is still a puzzle
we have learned not to nuzzle
a monkeys muzzle.
Now big pharm
wants us to take a vaccine
every year
even though it does not work
nor has it been properly tested.
The CDC demands we jab
our already immune kids more,
cardiac risks could be high
incidences soar.
The cynical might wonder if Pfizer
are in it for the money,
but that would be unthinkable!
The CDC is not political,
perish the thought.
Back to school, back to face diapers
back to front as usual,
all for naught.
A man with a hoary haired head
From shining black to innocent white
Carrying wisdom and experiences
Is the man to live with history
Which can't be tampered and distorted
His life carries the evidences of
Any past wars and massacres
Any past incidences and disasters
And now is our turns to become
The witnesses of the global epidemic Covid-19
Are you feeling proud or grateful
Thanks God we've struggled through
My eyes are getting old
But not my feelings
Cataract is forming
And so my inspirations growing
I see life and its styles
I see people and things
Nature and the surroundings
I feel their existence
I am grateful
I see goodness more than evils
I have dreams more than frights
I see poems, art pieces
Philosophy, religions and human nature
I see incidences and disasters
I see, I feel, I experient
I act, I learn
I recall, I remember
I see with feelings and love
I see the visible
And feel the invisible
But
Some people see the invisible
And feel the invisible
I think that's the love of God
Kris Radhakrishnan is my favourite poet
Any topic, any form he can pen a beautiful poem
He writes serious poems that leave a message behind
Also funny ones that make you laugh aloud
Some of his poems have unexpected end
They makes you wonder the play of mind and thoughts
His topics are varied from pillow to car
He can create a funny story out of common incidences
He feels and writes for others,
He is compassionate,he wrote for line
His poems are easy to understand,
They leave a lasting impression on mind
Every day I read his poem's
They fill me with joy and happiness
Most of his poems have fixed syllable count
I wonder how he manages that so beautifully despite a busy schedule
He is a doctor treating corona patients
And feels guilty when he is given leave
I am in awe of him.
He is truly a great human
Keep the ink flowing Kris
I look forward to reading your poems everyday
One day a young girl
Late from office boarded a bus
All got down one by one
She was the only girl
There were four men in bus
Few men pounced on her
Driver drove fast not stopping
Courageous youth fought bravely
Threw one out, herself jumped out of the bus
Her courage gave her strength
History is replete with incidences of courage and strength
Moment we become bold and fearless
We automatically generate inner strength
A strength that surprises us
If we are scared all pounce on us
Once we become courageous
Everyone is scared of us and treats us properly
Only a courageous mind can enjoy life
Lot of us loose lot in life out of fear
End your fear
Life is anyway short here
I didn't know she was crying,
Until I saw the tears and blood dripping from the corners of her swollen eyes,
Her mouth was sealed and heart broken into shreds,
She could neither sing nor mutter any African spiritual songs.
Filthy and unspeakable,
The transatlantic slavery system was brutal,
Over twelve million Africans were stolen from their homelands,
And sold to European and North American markets.
Shackled together in pairs on board the ship,
Their conditions were appalling.
Each slave occupied a tiny space in the hold,
The cramped conditions led to high incidences of diseases and death.
The barbaric and fiendish act disrupted African societal structure,
A glacial pang of pain like the stab of a dagger of ice frozen from a poisoned well,
All that's beautiful drifted away like the rejected waters,
Leaving Africa in an unknown world, wild as primeval chaos.
Small comforts--
The entities at home most taken in stride
life is not made up of big incidences profound
but the tiny things given without obligation and pride
When I arrive home, open the door, there Jack stands
wagging his tail so hard that it might just fall off
his love--unconditional-- being with his master, his only demand
While working at the computer, paying no mind to the kitty, Joe,
a hairy feeling wraps around the legs...pleading for attention
his gravelly lick reminds me he tried, I failed... just so I'd know
Adventure adds flavor and spice to living--don’t be mistaken--
yet there is something to be said for regular and ordinary
the lobster titillates the palate, but so do eggs and bacon
Home--it is more than just rooms--it is where we unfold
synonymous with the soul's nourishment
a place where we are ourselves with no pretensions—we feel whole
Outside left at the door, everything important is there
strings of life tightly woven by pulling us back repeatedly
Sustenance, security, and small comforts are found everywhere
It was said I was born of quenched love,
almost vanquished by a storm along
the Red Sea in a din of gray November.
Wandering around dunes, a Maiden
kind housed me comfortably--
O she, laughing among lilies in the quiet
and wild current; nourishing my psyche
with keen sensibilities.
Time passed between rain and light,
as I crossed Earth and Heaven with a sacred
power of a growing woman that clutched
the mystery of unknown incidences…
And when bells of a day's time have played out,
visions sailed in my mind--
that our King drew counsel from my foresight
warmed by an esoteric fire that burned,
speaking of prophecies and omens vouched–
this higher instinct streaming from ‘ Maiden Mother’
who opened a celestial gateway that betook me.
So the tale of a Priestess newly arisen
where legend's moments fell on a gliding leaf;
a story half told of my telepathic gift
of mortal beings honoring me, ‘Sybil, Sybil’:
yet, though revered as a sage, my own destiny
was not mine to hold.
Not even where I truly came from.
Create A Character Contest
7/7/2017
OUR IMAGE CHANGES BEFORE OTHERS
FOR SOCIAL REASONS CONSIDERING SOCIAL IMPORTANCE
ATTRACTED BY CONCEPTIONS GOT FROM EDUCATION
EITHER ACADEMIC OR SOCIAL OR BOTH
IN FRONT OF OWN BELIEVED GOD
WE ADMIT HUMAN BEING AS SOUL
BUT IN DAILY SOCIAL LIFE WE CONSIDER OTHER
AS BODILY BEING OF DIFFERENT RELIGION,
DIFFERENT CASTE, DIFFERENT CREED, DIFFERENT NATIONAL ETC.
AT DIFFERENT TIMES OUR IMAGE IS AFFECTED BY SOCIAL INCIDENCES
LIKE CLASH, WAR ETC.
IT'S VERY PAINFUL FOR TRUE BEINGS.
Once there was a Klutzy Duck
Had problems day and night – yuck
Until he came across a young Dragon that was also out of luck
They started a conversation and found that both had incidences that suck
Dragon showed the Duck that his friends could help and do a pick-me-up
Duck also shared his experiences and remarked on the new friendship struck
They laughed and found that together they could take their moments out of the muck
We won’t mention that the Dragon and Duck were sitting on a new Chevy truck
Now the owner of the vehicle, a guy named Puck
Found muddy Dragon and Duck prints all over that had stuck
They appear from hidden corners in an impromptu
fashion, like bubbles appearing anywhere
in boiling tea. They are all in white, making
mourning sounds that can put Nightmare on Elmstreet
Series to shame.
They always come out at ten
in the night. Everyone in Broomstreet closes their
windows, doors and anything that won't make
their houses air-tight. Fathers, mothers,
children, friends, and acquaintances hold each
other's hands behind the sofas, under the beds,
under dinner tables....and wait.
The strange thing with the ghosts
is that they are interested with money,
rather than haunting souls. One ghost
once was spotted robbing Broomstreet
Bank. "Call the exorcists!" the witnesses
shouted.
The ghosts also get wounded. One had a broken
nose when it stalked Mr. Nogood. It hit a wall
as it ran away, after it saw Mr. Nogood's
shotgun.... "How can ghosts be afraid of dying?!"
the senior citizen asked.
Yes, there has been many strange incidences
of haunting in places with lots of money, or
people with lots of money.
The fact and bottomline is that one ghost
resembled Todd Mills, who had escaped
from prison three months back....
Forgetful are those moments
which have passed by
and if I don't forget them
I shall surely cry
The moments which didn't last a few seconds
but do have a great importance
it surely occurred amidst my friends
but neither of them could ever sense
The moments which I knew
The moments which she knew
The moments of unwilling strangeness
in which neither of us could confess
She kept on searching something
which she could never find
but by the looks on her face
I knew what went on her mind
The moments when we met together
by some strange co-incidences
she always did try to avoid me
creating an artificial strangeness
Moments when we met alone
I could see in her eyes clearly
that she talked to me as such
she was made to do forcefully
Surely I must forget these moments
but how can I do so
with life so close to her
where I must surely go.
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