Inveterate Poems

From the Clarinet

Late November,
and lonely resonance of harmattan
salutes this solitude.
A weaverbird's contralto, in one
gale-sweep, lays bare the lower balustrade
of a maisonette,
and the romance of the last seasons
shoots the long throat of the clarinet...

O'classicals, on wings
ye come;
leaf cusps and petal ears —
classicals, swearing oaths of
mellifluous assembly...

Calm rhythms hasten to the
ears of Beethoven —
summon him for a serenade,
lest the dark shelter of a
decrepit day strips this solitude.

Anodyne hisses among
this hidden threshold,
curing and healing the weakness of
Clepoatra's hair, dampened with
the venom of haters of vanity.

Classicals,
rid us now of this grief of mundane
dances...
Even in death, Stravinsky hails solitude
on notes of the keys.

From the clarinet,
the bimetallism of barter —
the platitude of life and death
(symbiosis of percussions)
epitaph to the aftermath of
inveterate tradition —
now and forever...

And the clarinet looms.

The Power of Love

There is no denying the power of love.
It is a splendid teacher
Quite adept at instructing us
In ways that completely alter our character,
And telling us how to be what we never were,
Or never even imagined we could ever be.
In certain individuals
Its transformations are frequently nothing short of miraculous.
It breaks down all our natural barriers,
And in the blink of an eye
Can turn a niggardly pinchpenny into a philanthropist,
An obsequious milquetoast into a courageous and gallant knight,
And make a paragon of "politesse" out of an absolute boor.
The inveterate sluggard becomes a captain of industry,
And the most innocent of dullards
Becomes a wellspring of sagacity and worldliness.
What a marvelous whetstone for sharpening wits
And honing the senses is love.
Even its most hardened critics…
Those victims and casualties who proved to be intractable and unteachable…
Find it difficult, if not impossible,
To deny the power of love's ability to inspire
The most truly amazing things in a human heart.

No Regard

The depths of insecurities 
Buried with inveterate tendencies 
Her words were sweet as honey
Easily succumbed to vulnerability 
The final result came from pity
Satisfaction lasted for a moment
Confusion is here to stay

Emotion a Freed Verse

EMOTION

transformed
the clouds part
the sun explodes
in
 a sweep
 of the majestic
lacing alongside
&dancing
shameless
in a glow
  of affection
 participating
in a
  shadow
cast by
 threads

 exploration
accompanying
 exhibition
dissolving
 boundaries
to convey
&
celebrate
  an inveterate
 adventure
  gesturing
to
the passionate
within

 a mystery really
triggered by
 love
 closely associated
by the  physical
&knocked
sideways by it
 to recognise
 the power
thereof united
a one one
 full of depth
 &beauty;

More Often I Would Pause

When I am gone, I will regret expended time 
I wasted lavishly on matters less sublime. 

For too long I have been in constant motion til 
Inveterate blindfold broke loose and let me see -
World's stunning grandeur worth admiring lies standstill
In unsurpassed, bold and primal state of carefree. 

I should've paused for a second, for a minute, 
Upon majestic statue of the mountain peak, 
A mud puddle after rain with sun ray in it, 
A silent snowflake wafting chilly on my cheek. 

I should've lent my helping hand to many more, 
The poor and wretched among us predominate, 
Sweeter reward is to care than to be cared for - 
Late learnt lesson, whether acquired or innate. 

I should've called you every day because I could, 
Held you tight and tender in intimate embrace. 
Walking the earth seemed as a privilege for good, 
Along the sacred myth of ever lasting days. 

If I could only take it back for better cause - 
To lavishly admire - more often I would pause. 

January 23, 2023 

Contest: Poetry Marathon 
Sponsor: Mark Toney

Sickness

I -
To discipline or not to discipline children, charges::

ThanX Dr. Einstein, a parent who takes SORRY & no results for years, is mad. (translation: mere lip apology from teenagers under your roof, with no behavioural improvement, is a mad cycle).
II
When lies flow as breathing does, no one on earth can heal the sickness.

III
Why can't we see: inveterate liars cannot LOVE. Really.

IV
To be open, truthful, is a vital step to God.

V
Little lies add up to big sins.

Acrostic P U T I N

P - perverted, inveterate
U- universal malefactor
T- terrible inhuman
I - incredible liar
N- negativist and demented

Unrelenting Sadness Knocks

Once again unrelenting sadness knocks at my door,
Like the inveterate seeker of my generous charity
Calls on others like me and always demanding more.

Could it be that I am a lone favored mark to score?
And I am deigned to entertain gloom incessantly
Once again, unrelenting sadness knocks at my door.

Would that I could be like others who in autumn soar
And, seeing in falling leaves, they hope abundantly,
Calls on others like me and always demanding more.

I find at autumn’s advent a bitter chilling to the core
Rising to the level of self-uncontrolled ascendancy,
Once again, unrelenting sadness knocks at my door

Every year I have vowed I’ll not suffer again, I swore,
But this annual sadness I cannot explain from infancy
Calls on others like me and always demanding more.

Worse still, I have become a nauseous, weary boor,
Complaining and whining that this SAD has primacy.
Once again, unrelenting sadness knocks at my door
Calls on others like me and always demanding more.

written October 30, 2021

Hall Pass

Had a room been open   in that passageway
as a foreign night-ship, you’d have sailed by
Love would’ve been what?       I couldn’t say
Life: an inveterate humid ply____________

Perhaps has passed with its pernicious waves
Acceptance            rising like ocean’s eustacy
Sometimes, perfunctory was a skin-cut shave
So much more, was propitious ecstasy~~~~~

Parts of us shall never be contrite
As connoisseurs of our own fate, we played
Rage now mostly contrived in dying spite
though candid caustic thoughts can still prey…

Passion!                  
Our ultimate perfidy
Passion! 
We should've kept astute custody.

6/29/2021

The Turning Sphere

The turning sphere of history remains without merit
Until we earn again for ourselves that which we inherit;
The open window admits the gifter and the grifter. 

Passionate pages seeking to be filled with meaning,
Accept copy and paste solutions without fact checking;
The illusion’s brilliance blinds.

Freedoms won with the sacrifice of patriots inveterate 
Are ceded to a siren’s song by a servile electorate;
A vote for the melody no matter the lyrics. 

The anomaly becomes a tool to indict a group
By extrapolation in a never ending loop;
So many so willingly led by so few.

A kaleidoscope of human mutations vying chaotically to be begot.
Is this what six billion years of random opportunism has wrought;
*****sapiens, the symphony, played to discordant notes?

Millenials We Are

We love who we love
  We do what we do
We are Millennials
  What drivel we spew

We are who we are
  We live how we live
We are Millennials
  We take more than we give

We wait and we wait
  We may never get married
We are Millennials
  Commitments are scary

We eat bland vegan goodies
  We're inveterate foodies
Millennials, we are
  We'll order driverless cars

We're now in our prime
  We're on our phones all the time
Millennials we are
   ~ Lifestyles ajar

Leave the Futile Roots

A morning with golden ray comes here
The eyes open its sight to near and far
As if, all were till awaken on spot of loser!
The eyes cry more, cry in the lodging tear!

Not afar that’s insight 
more than the near! 
A terrible near in memory 
But as loser!

Madness!
Not a fallen off thinking!
its precious Rising!
We, the common cannot understand
its subtle wink,
Inside knowledge blinks 
immortal elixir to drink

Suffering through revolutionary mind
You live all behind
where destroyed all kind
illegally, on hand of blind

The coral to the reef slowly come
Destined creatures as death's dome
Leave futile inveterate possession
Let new procession flapping its wings


-November 23, 2018 Chattogram

There Was a Man From Asia

There was a man from Asia, it was me,
I could not fit in with the norm, I was beastly;
And so, I was living in the desolate woods,
Far away from the consumer goods.

As time passed hormones played havoc
Tinkering around my brain and twitting my ravenous cock,
The luck did not favor me with a hen,
In utter desperation I took up the pen.

I wrote a thousand lines for my inveterate luck,
That brat was not pleased, I was a lame duck;
I was a beast and so I picked up a prick,
And dug in the bush, a hole, for my furtive dick.

The haul thing was stupendous, a bit obscene,
But I did carry the atavism in my gene;
In the dark it came out, you know what I mean.
As night kicked in the crack I gave it a break,
Nick Tim, my dear, only for your sake.





Amuse Me with Your Rhyme, Let A Man from Asia be your guide Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Nick Trim
26th June, 2018

Legal Loopholes of Tees and Cees

Tees and Cees
Loopholes online firms exploit
In very small print on transaction documents a normal eye seldom spies and sees
Until legal implications take him for a maladroit

Too gullible to bother
Too illiterate to placate
Too fallible 
And too inveterate

To take seriously
To address with respect
To injure deleteriously
To treat with disrespect

With the impunity sanctioned by outdated legislation
Written for brick and mortar dinosaurs
Which enables their spineless extrapolation
To rub salt on sores

Customers sustain
When click and trick businesses
Retain and maintain in a vain  
Effort to benefit from the folly their monopoly disgorge and disburse as egregious legal excesses.

Mystagogia

"what is your wishing? 
my little child, my little idiot
didn't you listen to cross-eyed man?"
"as you may know", 
whispered the deranged father, 
"inveterate dreamers 
have the most fragile belief in life
they're chain-smokers by nature
and with grim rise of urbanization
in the end they only follow
the cold wave to Norilsk"
so I ask again: 
"dear mademoiselle
dear chatelaine
dear mistress of nonchalance
aren't your exploits a little bit foolish? 
aren't you going a little bit mad?"
and through the amused laugh 
the sinister answer follows: 
"aren't we all mad here, my dear?"

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