Long Credulous Poems
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Arriving from unknown somewhere
He set up clinic in the market square
Declared he could cure any disease
Using herbal drugs of plants and trees
Townsfolk being credulous
Soon to his shop began to rush
Diabetics, rheumatics, asthmatics flooded
None over his degree brooded
A few weeks later, afloat was this rumor
He cures for he rightly detects the humor
Realizing that every client is a prospective fan
He talked in technical terms even with laymen
He would expose his victims to numerous medical terms
Also trade-names, contents, firms, diseases and germs
Just to exhibit erudition and sound philosophy
Without occasion he embarked on learned topics
Often dwelt on sedatives and epilepsy
Or discoursed at length on tumor and biopsy
Then in a torrent of rodomontade would relate
Histories of cases cured with specific names and date
Discourses full of references to Ayurvedic treatises
Madhav, Charak, Susrut and other varieties
To prove his point he recited aloud original excerpts
As a result ,he soon won the epithet: "expert of experts"
"Discourteous ingrates! They even do not thank
Though I give 'em new life" exclaimed the mountebank.
Always eager to spar against allopathy
At the slightest provocation he would lecture on allopathic hazards
Or would lament on untidy hospitals and unhygienic wards
Boldly averring: "To hide anything from patients is a deadly sin"
Within no time he became a celebrity
His tricks worked and brought him publicity
After a year DHO came to see him in person
And sought his counsel for his sick son
A minister's car at his doorstep halted
Just to enhance libido and weakness treated
He gave the minister powerful mercury dust
Which triggered his vigor and inflamed his lust
Then to CM's ears reached his fragrant fame
Who called him secretly telling him not to declare name
MPs in turn heard of this rare phenomenon
And turned up to consult him one by one
Director drug control came to seek his advice
For chronic dysentery and perennial bronchitis
At length PM had to send him his compliments
For service to nation and" particular "patients
The whole world acknowledged him as master of his craft
But a person knew his truth in his own staff
His compounder knew his master was a fake
But he swallowed the secret for heaven's sake
After: "Letter of Mithridates to Phraates, King of Parthia"
Historiae VI by Sallust
*****************************
I am a man more poisoned against than poisoning.
That’s my version anyhow, and I’m sticking to it.
Don’t blame me for having survived a few meals
Which others, less fortunate, could not.
All that doesn’t help me now with Pompey at my throat.
Pompey, plunderer and bully, who has enough wit
Only to command a Materialschlacht,
But that is child’s play with Rome’s support.
Rome! Scourge of cities, tribes, peoples, nations, all mankind,
Were not the Pillars of Hercules, the western shores
Sufficient for your ravenous appetite
That your eagle eyes scan my realm?
O Phraates, King of Parthia still unvanquished,
Had you but lent your ear to me when together we
Might have rid the East of this ill-begotten son
Of Mars. Small the credit, so great the loss!
For Rome, unchallenged, bestrides the Great Sea. Eastwards
He surveys my mountains and your rivers, groves and plains,
No doubt beyond. Remember Alexander,
Who sacked glorious Persepolis.
You vainly sue for peace, like credulous Philipp once
When fondly strung along with Rome’s promises of “pax”.
And what of Carthage? Where now her wealth of gold
And purple? Barren her poisoned lands!
Mind you, I’m not well-placed on a high moral pedestal
When it comes to poisoning, but limits I respect.
A few enemies now and then, I admit,
Died at my table. The ham was off!
But the earth is sacrosanct. I never salted fields,
For Rome’s venom is stronger than aught I ever brewed.
Where shall this end? Shall Rome vanquish all nations?
Shall all cower to his bloody sword?
But Rome! With surfeiting the eaten, not the eater,
Prevails. The whole world is, even for iron digestions,
Strong meat. It is the sun, not Romulus, whom
East and West obey. Helios rules.
With Rome to east and Rome to west, then two Romes are there,
And I do fear for man and earth. The approach of death
Lends men insight. I fought, I won, I lost in war.
My spirit is still king. Sirs, your health.
The last round! Like Carthage we lose to Rome the third round.
Once more is the Gordian knot in twain. Quirites,
The gods look down. Remember Alexander,
Who died of fever in Babylon!
Wonder's Mother, Misery
Digging up the philosophical topic:
Disputing bliss as the ultimate state.
Argues that striving for worthy causes
is crucial to satisfaction.
Told as a narrative:
I settle for serenity before empathy emerges.
Fortune arrives! Freedom's apostle forsakes anguish
Gifted infinite Bliss, my solace destined deservedly
Stream of clarity meanders a universal language
Friction's absence nestles purity imperviously
Embalmed in Calm's acclaimed lake, swan flossed
Rythemical ripples push potent satisfaction
Praises recited by besotted Constancy credulous
echo honey hive hums of hexagonal exaction
Departing debaucherous City vividly abhorred
Putrid brutality writhes with tired rivalries
Beanstalk brings salvation, stem thrust forward
Garnered ease guarantees Eden's glories
Possessive Bliss demands spellbound devotion
Heaven threatened if Bliss discerns disloyalty
Clouds combine to combat empathy's erosion
Chastise my facile option of blind buoyancy
Fog's fugitives scowl at my serenity tenuous
Big top brandishing condemns complacency
Stampede creatures wet sterile to spectacle
Aloof cautions, storm's rampage prophesied
Thunder's scorn in boisterous cloud growls,
" Are your horizons devoid of curiousity?"
Lightning despises consolation Bliss allows
" Ventures usher insight, mishaps carve tenacity. "
My plaintive protest, " Bliss gives reality reprieve."
Vehement gust howls, " Glassy serenity smothers"
Truth edits template, discards denial' s dry leaves
" Necessary Misery is Wonder's Mother."
"Wonder's discoveries honour researchers who develop them
Trials and triumph craft tapestry immaculately woven
Showcased esteem denies distinction endless spectrum
Taunting tranquility extends pledges inevitably broken."
Narcotic Bliss persuades with privilege of inaction
Compassion scaffolds resilience duly collected
Pragmatic rain alerts to a pertinent maxim
Intrigue's face created by Misery's descendant
July 2020
The Choctaw
never taught me what the
Choctaw would’ve taught me.
The Australopithecine never taught me what
the Australopithecine would’ve taught me of.
The Memories, these Memories,
our Memories are fading songs in
an echoeless cave.
The listeners have tired,
moved on.
The choir sang, regardless...
...for a time.
And, in time, the silence overcame
the joys of recalling and the calling out
was no longer met with the
Response.
The ochre greened-over,
the iron dust fell from frost and
puddled dryly on the floor.
Summer winds, hot and desiccating,
soon scoured the walls and ushered out
the swirling cinnamon sand.
The drums beat to mineral-rich cave-dew,
on occasion. A sometime rain that formed cones.
They stretched with weatherings; sometimes taut,
sometimes loose. Their stories lost, nothing taught.
In time, their skins followed their long-lost bones into
the buried burned and carved, now-broken empty bones
Home. The silent tumulting earth. The cold overlay of the
Singeing Beneath. The singing stalled. The echoes bounced for a time from
voice to ear to wall to child to child to wall to stone to dust.
The stars never taught me what
the stars might then have taught me.
The dreams and dancings, the tremulous and then-credulous
tremolos, the inspirations of ululations, the song-stories of
peoples, of healings, of wilds, of ways...now silent.
This silence, in this echoless cave,
is the most wanting, most missing,
Sound.
Sound I’ve ever heard.
The cave never taught me.
The music never taught me.
The drum never taught me.
The dance never taught me.
The cave never taught me.
The fire is out, the embers lost.
The handprint remains on a wet wall in a dim corner in an out-of-the-way
scree-field crevasse just past the Cree field impasse.
The teachers are gone.
The ancestors quiet.
The cave never taught me.
The silence may
yet.
What kinds of truth is known to me
I do not know
In the deaths news by air media,
In fear of the new disease
Rightly I am disbeliever
Dark knowledge
In the fathomless dark circumstances
I am drowning
Uneducated fully
In that disease illiterate I am
Do not know anything about the virus
Do not know what is biological weapons or war
Speaking I am about nCoV-19
From the last month of the last year
It rules the human world with fears and panics
Still now it is adventuring with its secret policy of killing
China, Italy, Spain, Iran, USA, UK and more superpower countries are
Under its killing list
On this earth from the fauna and flora
Only humans are at severe risks
The virus killed and killing only human
Human of cursed earth shall die one after another in its trapped paths
Dying everyday thousands of peoples worldwide
Isolated the infected patients are
In home quarantine all concerned persons
Necessary activities are executing by making self distance
Residential areas of the world like the forlorn zoo now
Vampires now crawling, screaming on the open royal roads of the world states
In my city
Mosquitoes are flying happily along with evening darkness
Dogs are reluctantly barking
Crows are cawing with doves' cooing even in moonless night
Crickets are in relaxed rhythm where butterflies in violet lightening
Trees, creeping plants, bushes in genuine swinging sense
Without human no animal shall die from the fauna,
No flora shall die
In this schemed paths of nCoV-19
The virus knows only human as the blood sucker
I know
Truth never can kill truths
Lie easily can trap and bring at the door sills of death the credulous spirit
On the political shelf the Oracles are descended like ancient time
Rumors make the conscienceless wises hypocrite pious
I know that
Actually I know nothing
06.04.2020 Chattogram
*Image of Between Doors by Hope.
As Shadows Mend
A lingering bravura form ... dawn midst twilight's brilliance,
It sprung a length of an unscathed course -- accidentally,
The mute vim snugly stamped unfilled, credulous of malice,
Flightiness stemmed from this silhouette, soulless oddity,
Fractured sewn plots hint of ambrosia, ere glint of the sun,
Crept o'er beauts dead asleep flit promenade the *Champs Elysees,
This undertaker gleams green edges, tickling haunting fun,
Furtive's sourced the virgin-less dove, resting on eggs well pleased,
Furtherance strengthen cloaks, catnapped air revives to a squeeze,
Contingent hollow burdened by hyped growth and fancy streams,
Swarming hodgepodge, dynamism idled, abandoned, charms ease,
Consequential happenings, capricious woodland's sprite dreams,
Curiousness provoked benchmarks, advance said grey graveness,
Flummoxed o'er see-through luminance, that occult pseudonym,
The breathless saunters towards pronounced distant concaveness,
Prompts closeness of wormed anomaly, like some phantom limb,
Chanced, faced with faceless, instantaneously, sensed a warmth,
'Twas pacific this heightened soul tried to claim yond circumstance,
A cleansing consumed me whole, doleful went yielding a formed,
While Lunar's wanting depth, Sol's dawn, striking a winks askance.
The darkroom flights emptiness to illuminate alone,
Receptive rays liberates imprisoned eyes to wander,
Aims set, spirits exalted, aids cognizant chaperone,
Nippy night solicited valor, daydreams come yonder.
*Champs Elysees (SHOHNZ-eh-LEE-zeh): a major avenue in Paris famous for elegant shops and cafes
~~Happiest 2022 Dreamers, Aloha!~~
2021 December 28
Aviating aspirations
of effervescent incandescence
spread psychic plasma
of primal sensual spectrum,
painting the exuding exuberance
of the indigo emotions
on the convoluted sullen sky,
fantasy configures with contours of memory
fascinating fresco
of the mental panorama,
suffused with halcyon hues
of sublime sensitivity
embedded in exalted ecstasy,
blooming bemused
in seraphic color blast
of floral kaleidoscopic spring,
awaits the assault of summer
in the credulous mindscape.
In cracked somber soil,
draped by dismal dust
of extant cinnamon ground,
where the deserted heart desiccates
in the yearning core,
when auburn anguish
pervades passively
and creeps with crafty camouflage
in the wilted veins
of the fallen autumn leaves,
as fragile rootless essence
rustles restive
with the olive tune
of serenading sanguinity.
Emotive eyes weep
the concealed tears unshed
in torrent of torment,
fill the impulsive cauldron
of pent-up pathos,
forlorn life’s desolate distillate
designs the malachite crystal canopy,
shining with emerald buoyancy
in the jade thicket
on the eroded banks
of awakened awareness,
while classical cadence
of symphonic zephyr,
drifting with the sonata spirit
of fleeting fervor
from the yonder plateau
of rolling passion,
vibrates with timeless rhythm
on the waves of rhapsody
in the bay of bliss,
glides with the enthralling melody
of the harmonic heart,
pulsating spellbound
with the lilting lyric
of the lavender lagoon.
In the world nurtured by pristine nature,
in God’s own lavish land so divine,
a child is born with an empty malleable mind,
where budding beauty of purity finds a niche,
encased within the frame of innocence,
of the real life waiting to be lived it has no sense.
The child’s face blooms the flower of heavenly smile,
the flawless fleeting mirror reflects God’s image,
gets shattered with time’s tormenting impact,
but the credulous simplicity may last long,
while the challenging world around changes fast,
as happened with me over the years under dust,
I spent my childhood in the vale of blue hills,
where sparkling stream slithered in eloquent ebullience
with the glistening liquid pearls of elegance,
flowed with the flamboyant facade of silver splendor,
bedecked our house with a glittering garland of wonder,
with the latticed lacing loops of mesmeric meander.
On its rippling water rapidly passing me by,
I sailed paper boats tinged with rainbow colors,
that glided wobbling in tortuous trail of curling current.
I imagined my mariner mind drifted unbound
on these crafts to distant dreamland of dormant attraction,
framed within the child’s reveling reverie of imagination.
Carried away by the ebb of the tempestuous time,
the boats sank in the solvent sea of memory,
but those adorable mesmerizing moments gone by,
I live in the twilight hour with my inner child
in the realm of naivety that makes me happy,
for the child has not grown up yet within me.
credulous at times
or so it seems i am
as i peer outwards
through speckled windows
beyond the splatter of rain
from dawn's misty skies
the crimson edges of the horizon
seems distorted from view
as the sun peeks through
newly budding maples
that line the path
of these empty streets
where only silence lingers
on the corners
of every lawn
it seems not long ago
one could hear laughter
of children gathering
as dogs curiously walked by
but now it's only a memory
of faded days
as if winter
still hung in the air
i see the robins
frolicking from branches
as if embracing the warmth
of another day
risen without noise
a full moon
still rests on the edges
of this sky
that seems clearer
as if a fog has lifted
from everywhere
but my mind
my erstwhile dreams
hide behind closed curtains
of this worrisome mind
in these troubled times
i can almost hear the roar
of the ocean's ebb and flow
as i close my eyes
beneath these salted mists
that fall from within
as I seek the aperçu
of understanding
as unknowledgeable as i am
looking from the inside out
"my heart still feels those times
spent in the warmth"
April 5, 2020
Poetic Line Contest
Sponsored by Silent One
end line credit Eve Roper
My heart still feels those times spent in the warmth - from the poem 'What the eye sees the heart cannot forget.
My dear old friend
You haven’t realized how you’re heart has been faltering to the bitter black sweetness controlling your intransigent tongue.
To whom it craves another loving credulous tongue that you wish to twist yourself
But sad to come & find out, they all blackened as well.
Unable to see through the blurred lines of confusion that you created a loop of loose tied compromises
You bite your tongue swiftly & sharply to find the darkness seeping through.
Glazing your broken sentimental fragments that have been left un-harmed for too long.
Your familiar sweet face has morphed into someone that is unrecognizable & non friendly.
I wallow when looking back at the thought of your stone cold bleak eyes that tell too many tall tale white lies.
You will lay anybody out on the frozen pavement without any remorse or concern
As long as you’re the only one that is out of harms way.
I miss the one I fell so deeply for that I’d change without hesitation as long as there might’ve been a chance to savor what’s left of him.
I hate how you’ve taken his shape
but I know it isn’t my place to say whether or not you should’ve changed.
So I’m here to say for one more last time
Happy birthday my dear old friend;
Till we meet again in a new age of light & that this time you would stay the same & nor change next time
<3