And if the stars
no longer gleam,
will memory
enough suffice?
And when the Sun
its last beam spent
will heaven be nice,
reconsider its withdraw?
Indeed, blame man
for Light abuse! Indeed
blame man for lack of
truce! – the wars go on.
But never blame yourselves
for man’s Free Will Darks,
and let flawed fools retain
at least a small grace of Divine
Sparks.
Yesterday, who knows where I was, lost in my thoughts.
Yesterday, a morning when you wake up in Moscow or Budapest.
Yesterday, a day when the light caresses other horizons.
Yesterday, a night when the darkness of a sky resembles yours.
Yesterday, I am already far away, my body carries my melancholy.
Yesterday is the memory of a living breath that left me.
Yesterday, I whirl in the four winds and drift away from tomorrow.
Yesterday, images build the memory of small moments.
Yesterday, awaited messages that warm our hearts.
Yesterday, sufferings that broke you and left you like an orphan.
Yesterday, a flight of swallows leaving an electric wire.
Yesterday, the warmth of your gaze lost in mine.
Yesterday, my words that play, trying to find yours again.
Yesterday, the beginning of an end, or at least a road fading away.
Yesterday, I wish you had never existed so I wouldn’t have to mourn you.
Yesterday, I beg you, stay today or become the day before yesterday.
Joel Charvillat .
Twenty-five years on there are many lessons
Learned and still waiting from 9/11.
When American history is reviewed
Only a few clear days stand out,
Boston Tea Party, Pearl Harbor, World Trade Center
Yet how many Americans know these days,
And how many even care?
That’s lesson one.
New York City now has a Muslim mayor
Openly sympathetic to the terrorist jihad
That made that day something to celebrate
Making him at least a “Terrorist-lite”.
Somehow in the place least expected
The world has been turned upside down.
That is lesson two.
9/11 of course changed America
Paving the way for a new world order
A war on terror and surveillance state.
Which despite all misgivings, all assurance
It would soon be over and go away
We have accepted
And so it now appears just here to stay;
A sad and sobering lesson three
For a land of the free based in liberty.
What comes next, what’s left to learn?
That for liberty to last it must be earned.
(9/6/26)
The interest in this 'free verse style sonnet 'is two fold..At least a dozen people" had claimed credit for the poem (according to Wiki) &(hence no bio with this poem).Secondly its famous Christian 'allegorical ' theme which confirms a basic truth for believers of the Holy Spirit being within to guide and care as Jesus promised in John 15 & 16
Every tenth sundry
ven-
dor owns at least a
hundred and seven-
ty free flop-
of-the line gamey
loconut
brief cakes loved by lep-
ers prying
into malty poor
pound
pay dirt
left dangling
both uncodifried
and super seeded with the wood-
en
heaped goons of small and
in-
significant re-
lated risk bakers
misusing
government fun guy.
You who hide in the darkness of power,
Spare at least a thought for the light.
Do not provoke the youth under the intoxication of authority,
Or you may lose everything that makes your power worth holding.
If you truly have courage, then step onto the battlefield,
For this battlefield offers nothing except loneliness.
We, the youth, walk forward with our lives already at stake.
If you claim to be brave, then face us openly on the battlefield.
To reach the age of 101 is truly a marvel,
or maybe a curse.
For you have seen many exciting things,
that are history bound.
The planet has changed at least a
hundred times; and more
You have a corner eye on that score.
they're saying more may live to that age.
I personally can't imagine.
But to personally know a person that has reached a
century old is glory indeed and definitely gold.
The scorching sunlight binds me down.
Why is summer so cruel like this?
My friend left for Switzerland.
A letter arrived not long ago:
“It is stained with green meadows here.”
“No one tries to hurt me.”
“There is no such thing as rat poison.”
I should have been the one to go.
“Is my face really that hideous?”
“Oh, what a life of mine. Meow.”
Like hope seeping through the neon lights,
That man approached me.
I am a stray cat.
Yet, no mere wanderer am I.
I am a thinker,
One who deciphers the gaze of humans.
A Rolex watch on his wrist,
A calm leisure lingering in his eyes.
But I already know.
What matters more than food
Is a savior, a victim,
Who will clean up my waste.
“Meow…” My cry was a question.
Could this man truly be my butler?
Could he grant me the peace inside a box?
Could he buy me at least a single cat tower?
Or would he someday,
Fall for a girl, cheat on me,
And abandon me to leave?
I held my breath, hesitating.
Weighing you and me against each other,
At the very moment my heart pounded—
Before I knew it, I was sitting upon his lap.
It was not a chosen favor,
It was a gamble, staking my entire life.
I've hee'rd some say you just; must not go, visit
That brazen faced man..Who's a maverick Joe..We thought he wasn't.??? But the way some things panned.? Just leave old Joe well out of your plans.' He resides in the deepest depths we know.' Where the cold is like knives.? Or at least a stubbed toe.! He's an old bush-wacker..Ask anyone here.. He ain't real tolerant either dear.' With him up is up.' And down is down, and left.? Well it sure ain't right.! What other faults are to be found. Un-right??? I think a toilet roll is needed.? The waxy type..Much inking must not be impeeded
And it'll remind me he's not a luxurious type, stubborn and pig-iron headed, this is
Streching like tripe, or India rubber, oh yes
There there..I feel most vindicated as i wail and Blubber....)
after the manner of Bukowski
they met under a flickering light
in a bar that smelled like wet cardboard
and yesterday’s regret
she laughed too loud
he didn’t laugh at all
that’s how it started
he liked her because she didn’t ask questions
she liked him because he didn’t have answers
it felt like truth
or something close enough to pass
they drank
they always drank
like two broken clocks trying to drown time
her lipstick stained the rim of his glass
his silence filled her mouth
they kissed like accidents
like missed exits on a long, dead highway
the neighbors complained
the walls were thin
but not as thin as the line between love and habit
they called it romance
because calling it anything else
would’ve meant leaving
and leaving takes courage
or at least a reason
he slept with his shoes on
she slept with the lights off
neither one dreamed
in the morning
they didn’t look at each other
just two strangers
sharing the same wreckage
but come nightfall
they’d find their way back
because some loves
aren’t meant to be natural
they’re meant to survive
like cockroaches
like bad poetry
like people who don’t know
how to be alone
All of these questions circle round in my head
they are the barriers that keep me from bed.
Sat here before you, I’ll lay it all on the table
keep me from guessing, if you are able.
How long will it be, till the chosen one is me?
Are there roses just around the corner?
What is his name? Does he diminish my pain?
Are we bonded, but not by trauma?
Do you see an office, adorned with high profit or at least a better place to be?
Will I stop feeling that I’m watching the ceiling and waiting for it to collapse, on me?
Can you diagnose wealth, or even good health?
Do I get a place in everyone’s race or will I forever be miles behind?
All I need, just a few promises that what once was dull, will shine.
Will I get that something that I can call mine?
Will the clock stop racing and I’ll finally have time?
Will it just hit me, one day, all at once?
Or need I be patient, wait for years that were months?
As much as I know, it’s the seeds that I’ll sow
that will allow me to escape wilted blooms,
I just need an inkling of your wishful thinking so I can expect a change of tune.
I'm a killer,
at least a liar,
or just misunderstood,
But the world can't just be cruel,
taking all my friends,
stretching at this distance,
subjecting me to a meire object,
for someone only god would know,
I'm sweet hearted,
sure I'm nice,
I'm gentle,
then why is the world reaping from my accomplishments,
my pride shattering,
my birthed ego killed me,
everything was stolen from me,
the only thing being a shell,
a shell of who I was and am,
the [Erson I am no longer.
-Kitsuko Dragonstar
To celebrate seventy seven revolutions round the sun
it was decided that seven point seven kilometres he would run
To ensure it was a task he could successfully complete he rehearsed the total distance
easily covered the the run, jogging bare feet
Would such an exercise been possible when he was age twenty ??
not likely, such a sloth !!!
Now aged seventy seven he is bursting with energy aplenty
So what's the secret of this total age reversal
No alcohol, no coffee, no tea, organic food that is always raw
This free recipe is available to one and all
make some changes, see what life may have in store
There are many other secrets for long life impunity
Resist viruses, bacteria, build muscles, exercise the mind as well
leads to natural self regulated immunity
One of the vices that pulls all healing back
is what exists at the end of the dinner table fork
Eliminate old habits, start a new found daily practice
that includes at least, a routine daily walk
Oh, my brown-eyed girl with the sweetest dimples
The world keeps moving forward
And I’m still lost, grieving you
Two years
Two long years
I’m afraid it doesn’t get any better
I replay that night in my mind
At least a thousand times
I will never be ready to say goodbye
To a better place
When your heart was still beating softly
The echo of your laughter I can still hear
I miss you, I miss you
My dear baby girl, the best part of me
Lived in you and shone so brightly
No poem can capture the ache in my heart
It’s the price I pay for loving you, my brown-eyed girl
A debt I willingly pay
For the wonderful years with you in it
A dime you left for me
Proof that you are always near
Still, the tears flow like a river
Sweeping me away
Further and further I go
Searching
Longing
Remembering
I miss you, I miss you
Always
Sometimes the silence is deafening
Listening for something not hearing a thing
Walk past a door for at least a snore
But none is heard while we are listening
Every night this fear comes so near
Now I know parentings every fear
Though I am just a brother I look at
What morning will discover that fatal attach
The drugs of today are not like them we discovered
Parents would smell them and keep it within
Now I can see with my guilt displayed
My secrets their secrets for some reason made
But today is different I see pill taking hold
Legalization making a new creatures unfold
Though I'm not a parent as parenting unfolds
I still feel the fear of my disgust
Every night passing the door with its distrust.
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