April plays a foolish part,
A warm embrace that tricks the heart.
While showers promise flowers soon,
I find a hundred thorns by June.
A chaotic peace, a subtle clash,
Bright tulips turning into ash.
Where silence wins and pride prevails,
The sweetest dream of summer fails.
The morning dew drops to the past,
As everything is moving fast.
I finally untie the knot,
To treasure my own solo shot.
Ritual for prosperity
"Golden cord, bright and bold,
Turn my efforts into gold.
Tie the luck and lock it fast,
Make this newfound plenty last.
Negative tides must now recede,
Success is sown in every bead."
Best written and kept by thread
never mind the logic of the knot
it's the frayed edges being pulled -
at both ends, by us, tightly as a drum-
that matters infinitely more; that knot
is the state of our togetherness,
nothing or no one can ever untie us.
Roads are all clogged ~ clogged with cars
there's too many too many by far
streets look more like a parking lot
there's no sword for this Gordian Knot
I'm leaving town want to get where I'm going
nothing's slowing me down
leaving town want to get there on time
I'm not dawdling or waiting around
like a hot cup of coffee on a stone-cold morning
or an ice-cold beer on a hot summer's day
it's a new lease on life down the line
leaving nothing behind I'm on my way
I'm taking the train to my next location
no car for me I won't be
driving to a new destination
traveling light making for the station
taking the train I'm taking the train
we sit on the what knot shelf
thinking we are all that the first week
feeling the woman’s excitement in finding us
But week after week goes by
the glass doors open and she pushes in new finds
thimbles, bells, miniatures, marbles,
most of us have not been taken out since day one
when she was excited to purchase us
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
At first, it was only the absence of weight~
the way my knees forgot they were always sore,
how the grocery bags swung lighter in my hands,
how the elevator didn’t creak under me.
Then, the silence became something I could touch~
not the absence of sound, but the presence of
something else. The space between breaths,
the gentle whir of the fridge at 3 AM,
the way rain hesitated before falling.
I didn’t call it prayer, not yet.
But I lifted my face upward
like a plant uncertain of where the sun had gone,
and for once, the light didn’t burn.
Now, when I wake,
the world is neither cruel nor kind~
just is, just waiting.
I used to beg for signs;
now I recognize them
in the empty parking space
waiting for me in a crowded parking lot,
in the way the wind pulls at my coat
saying follow.
This isn’t just a realization~
It’s the untying of a knot
I didn’t know I was bound to.
One day, I’ll stop asking
if this is what it means to believe.
When the forget me not fades
it is caught in a soft valley wind like a sparrow
When the forget me not blooms
it rides the hard wind like a circling hawk
When the forget me not fades
it drifts free like a thin breeze
When the forget me not blooms
it is bound within a thickened wind
Murmuring the blurred and wavering nature of the forget me not
a yellowed reed releases a dark cry
This rope may seem so worthless,
But it can be so nerveless.
Tying up its victims,
Acting like lictors.
Maybe they want the freedom?
Maybe it will free them.
Twinkle stars in the sky Children wish one day to fly
Woollen clothes with tender stitches
Winter comes dew the pitches
Flowers blossom, grasses moisten
Itinerary of life changes often
Rekindling the mosiac of dreams.
Impinges the way to gleams.
Untie the knot around your neck
With conscience and a little introspect
Before the world tightens the rope
Clutter the false with the hope
Live the life as you aspire Become the one that you admire.
Hurt your pride just a little.
Slay the demon with your mettle
If I could turn the clock's proud hands around,
And make the past a silent, yielding clay,
What single thing would be my hallowed ground?
What solitary debt would I repay?
Not Caesar's fall, nor some forgotten war,
No grand design upon the human stage,
But just a little moment, nothing more,
A single, unremarked, forgotten page.
I'd find the day the friend-thread started thin,
The one I broke with words of careless spite.
I'd go to the spot where pride won the grin,
And chose the bitter shadow over light.
While with my power used to hold my tongue,
To bite the lip and let the anger cool.
To choose the path of love while we were young,
And not to act the self-important fool.
The world would turn, the stars would still align,
No empires built, no new philosophy.
Albeit, modest, subtle world of mine,
A broken thread would mend, eternally.
And I would trade history's roared acclaim,
I'd bid that one small change, so soft and low,
To keep a bond from ever knowing blame,
And watch the seeds of understanding grow.
We are not body-mind, we are not this,
concept of ‘I’ being knot of the heart,
which divine grace dissolves, bestowing bliss,
so if God-search we truly wish to start,
shift from ’I’ to ‘we’ deeming none apart.
Feeling deep in our core, bliss beats humming,
we don’t attain but be by becoming.
.
hot
damn
bamb
pop
i cave under
thick
pleasure
i mean
p(r)essure
*"bamb" iz spelled with
the astute think ')
Speaking from experience
as not one to falter
at the altar
its no illusion
why I came to this
wedded bliss conclusion
the institution of marriage
is one I won't disparage
for better or worse
wedlock is the bedrock
of civilisation
and of course
the only
reason for divorce
The power of God.' Breaks forth unguessed in surprising all
He is always at His best..As a spring appears in desert wastes
So instrutcion and prophesy fill a space.' A mouth a screen?
A song line or more..The artist even unconsciously is a door.' The window closes..That door gets shut.' through many
Transposes on lifes often dimly lit road, there is such interaction many glimpses are showed.' Yet where are
The teachers? The prophets, or the wise.? They are staying
Dumb and silent.' Are they blinded by lies.? Where there
Should be enquiriy at the feet of the Lord.' There is false
Knowledge and thesis that are wholly of 'this world.' No
Growth is expected.? As war and pestilence hit.' As many teachers teach drivel..Thats the whole.. And true sum; of it '
Practicing hard at his yoga,
Cato convolved with his toga.
The news he was caught
In this Gordian Knot
Spread to the land of Busoga.
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