Long Cremating Poems
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I'm a simple guy,
I like video games, music and succeeding without trying,
So when a man comes up to me and tell me he can save my life,
Who am I to turn down a free book from a generous passerby,
Strange how after hundreds of Reddit articles I find these red words the most astounding,
Each verse saturated with a truth beyond my understanding,
I embraced the scripture in my new-found belief,
Ditching skeptics and scientific contention for a biblical motif,
So with my newfangled faith I embarked on a holy endeavor,
To sift through a lifetime of personal uncertainty to uncover the answer,
I found myself under bottomless pizza boxes,
Buying time stocks from the evolutionary clock,
Discovering purpose through glimmering game discs,
Fashioning polygonal personalities into personable obelisks,
Uncovering the depths of my psyche excavating mountains of dirty laundry,
Rinse on, dry off, purging both physical filth and emotional quandaries,
Sharing walkways with speeding cars enslaved to a monetary duty I can't shirk
A journey of a thousand steps every pilgrimage to work,
My blood a bubbling brew of ambition and potential,
Yet required to surpass insurmountable credentials,
Ignoring the marked symbols in newspapers they seek to brand on my forehead,
Subjective opinions of civility and idealism dropped on me like warheads,
Cryptic predictions of personality and fate,
You think I need a dice roll to determine if I'm straight?
Countless evaluations to rationalize the psyche and soul combined,
What makes their opinion more viable than mine?
I'm taking buoyant steps upon the swamp to reach my destination,
Swapping carnality for divinity to achieve the ultimate self-preservation,
Cremating my mortality I seek to ascend,
Past primitive understanding of a purpose I cannot comprehend,
This road we walk is coated with trip-wire and paved with scorching coals,
Watch out for those flaming hours in your 5-day forecast so find the nearest foxhole,
The burden on our shoulders has already been lifted so there's no reason for us to be aching,
We're on the path to eternal salvation why aren't we skipping?
So why don't you tag along with me on this self-realization odyssey,
I can't promise explosions or tentacle-headed aliens but I know it'll at least be interesting,
Just you, yourself, me and I,
The most dynamic duo to ever breach the sky.
Opposing standards is one of Tim’s favourite past times
Not for the sake of difference but to cherish critique
to brush away his take on ignorance searching for his truth
Internalized self-evident and for the sake of future revelation
Creating creativity is far too laborious its
stifling not impulsive enough and stale for it
resembles conscious attempts of spontaneity
Contorting to conformity defeats Tim’s objective
togetherness is fine and so is shaping the world
but pluralism beats boredom and to follow a crowd
Oxymorons in tautological proportions repeated again and
once more affirm vulnerable souls who never put a wrong step in
front of the other as they move happily backward just the same
Conforming consecrating concreting confirming the evens
win far too often when odds are on blowing the norm
Cremating corrupt cretinous crap creates cohesive credentials
Timessa interjects that once every one shapes novel ideas and
follows a different tune in perfect synchronous ‘harmony’ what then
and thereafter but paradigms shift and diversions re-enter the stage
Archetypes polar opposites contradictions disagreements
compliment complementation fashion intricate concoctions
inaugurate new designs and refuse to create devious disarray
Tim decides that Timessa has a linear point yet would rather be a
lonely clairvoyant in the desert than to drown in quick-sands of time
Still he asks his feminine namesake to take a holy vow of communion
Two lovers with their own points of convictions are a miraculous convention
When they come together its everyone’s guess what circumstance and their
genes may result in with the magic flow of a near perfect union bubbling with joy
29th October 2016
El Presidente don’t Tennessee
nothing bad coming,
tho’ the global orbitals
saw viral things very differently
Happy talk tongue taters
do eerily
Idaho ear mash liquor please
Delaware drunk on denial,
so Iowa unaware
that the body litmus test
is gonna crimson cost higher
The Ivory home
(with the igloo dome)
in un-Wash D.C.
got the Nevada neon soundbytes
Alaska gaslighting
Montana malaria nonsense
New Jersey devil-speak
is a spit-splash of
Flo-rida jingo-jingle noise:
Colorado pulp fiction vig juice
of New York grifter con-fidence
West Virginia coal pipes rattling
delusional hiss tales untruth
Murmuring Utah pseudo-soothsayer hoax salt
message mixed in
utter Louisiana swamp cackle placating broth
Kentucky bourbon breath
be mirage-aged facts
in a California Death Valley cask
Pennsylvania Ave. perps pledging a pathogen allegiance
to Indiana vaping jones —
Ill moan shills of Illinois cremating bones
South of North Dakota
are so many fear reservations
of minimal test quotas
North of South Carolina
are very few swine swill flu taste hesitation
But *CDC’s beaker manic motion
botched the pestilent cure potion
Now, from the Oval top
to the Pentagon bottom,
there’s a United State of denial
Flooding the closed border with
Rio Grande pandemonium,
Texas-sized tears
break down the New Mexico wall
of pandemic jeers
As Georgia’s scientific swells
placebo smile
at the syringe sound
of the Maine coast death knells
While El Presidente
only coin care to
Mississippi make-believe see
Missouri monetary glad tidings
Toot the little horn of confusion, please ...
‘cause Toto knows
we’re not in Kansas anymore, Dorothy
*CDC is an acronym for Center for Disease Control.
A federal agency whose headquarter
is located in Atlanta, Georgia.
— Romantic Warrior
Hymns of salvation
That my own body
is my greatest enemy
was unknown to me.
Deluded,
O Lord, I was reveling in its pleasures.
The ones that
do not listen to Your tales,
never speak the truth and won’t feed the starving,
worry not about what is right and what’s not,
would not obey the Guru,
do not remember Your name;
O God, why should anyone care if such folks
are alive or dead.
O God, fed up we all are
kinsfolk with weeping ,
relatives with cremating ,
moms with giving birth ,
I with getting born.
20/Nov/12
Form: “Suzette Prime” with the syllable count, per line, of 2, 3, 5, 7, 11, 13 etc , all Prime numbers.
For: Su Crous’ Prime numbers and Philosophy contest.
By: S.Jagathsimhan Nair.
* The philosophy of the poem is borrowed from the hymns ( in Tamil) sung by one of our( Indian) saints named” PATTINATHAR”, revered for his words of wisdom and deeds of miracles. The reference in the 3rd stanza is to the innumerable incarnations each soul has to go through, age after age, till it gets freed from the cycle of births and deaths on attainment of salvation. Here he is praying to God for his own salvation : ” In this never ending cycle of births and deaths ; times without number, have my close relations wept for me whenever I died, my near ones cremated me as many times; times without number, mothers gave birth to me and times without number I was born into this world. We are all totally fed up, going through this process repeating itself again and again. O God, deliver me once and for all from this terrible fate”.
Stanzas 1 and 2 are self-explanatory.
For SKAT's contest on 15 Jun 13
In my past existence,
circumstance sowed my roots
deep into woods of foreign soil,
slowly I ascended spreading my wings,
yearning to be evergreen,
blossoming in summer with glossy verdant leaves -
I became the soul of the earth.
Yet, I never belonged,
among a promenade of silver skinned pines,
who mocked my rough brown bark.
I was born to flourish in a tropical oasis,
so autumn winds stole my diverse petals.
I stood vulnerable with
bare branches shivering in silence.
Snow fell gently,
as my crumbling core began to rot.
Fate slashed at my anchor like a mad man with an axe,
until I collapsed with my sap bleeding dry.
I was left to slumber in melancholic meadows,
abandoned in murky misty moors.
In death,
I pondered, will anyone miss me in times of;
silence, anger, tears, smiles, laughter and regret?
Although they cannot hear nor see me,
will they still feel me in their hearts?
When they gaze at the night skies.
Will they find me among the stars?
Lost in thought,
yearning stardust and moonlight melodies,
my soul connected with an ethereal spirit,
an aromatic aura I had never felt -
I was finally found.
Her soft lotus touch roused a fluorescent glow.
Our hearts illuminated resembling the golden orb.
As my beloved portrays me in her poetry,
we wander in fields of forever,
commemorating instead of cremating memories.
Her devotion plants a special seed in her bronze orchard,
creating an immortal poetic garden -
where we bloom as flowers in all four seasons.
Humanity must hustle mach schnell -
At warp speed to stave off
further global catastrophe
courtesy portentous tragedy
loosed within Australia
think Pandora's box
harbinger spelling dystopia
across webbed wide world
avast holocaust cremating
irrevocable and irreversible
innocent species, now urgency
of humankind to reckon
eyes crisis endangering all
flora and fauna including
bipedal hominid *****sapiens,
whose burgeoning population
demands global bailiwick
the responsible province
of most cutthroat species
berserk beast running rampant
and roughshod furiously
indiscriminately slashing
and burning swaths of fragile
ecosystems ramping up climate
change i.e. global warming,
whose critical tipping point
of no return brink will witness
quantum leaps, whereby
ecological apocalypse promises
inhospitable planet Earth,
whereby simian stewards
severely shirked responsibilities
exploiting, polluting
trumpeting no holds barred policy
to plunder, pillage and rape
once bountiful zoological,
and avast botanical edenic grove
comprising extensive panoply
populating every nook and cranny
transforming once upon time utopia
unsightly, insufferable and
apocalyptic hazardous wasteland
habitats additionally threatened
linkedin with ruthlessness
amidst/amongst violence prone
primates peopling planet Earth.
My secret cries are my pains I hide, hidden from the world to see.
Hidden so intense my soul became debility of weakness.
My heart hinders to collapse and deflates.
Completely of decay, secretly lessen for the amounts of importance.
Shedding everyday by natural process, my cries are easier to hide.
Hidden behind my diluted mask of faulty smiles, I portray when you are around.
As I wear with grace, deceiving you with an illusion of happiness.
I die a little more inside.
A cast away of pain, a cavity is what I became.
Over dosing the quantity heartbreak, so overwhelmed my heartaches. Now begin causing the feeling of great sorrow, never wanting to see tomorrows.
My secret cries of agony, a thought to die is where my truth lies.
Memories are influencing misery, emotionally and physically.
What hides behind my smile is vulnerability.
My cries vocalize, overflowing with tears burns my insides.
My heart is a furnace that burns for cremating my flesh of lies.
Keeps me feeling, as thou I am no longer alive.
Always walking through the crowd with my head up high, fore these feelings no one will ever find.
My secret cries therefore shall die when I die.
Then there will be no longer any secret cries to hide.
Nevertheless, until the day I leave this earth, my cries shall stay buried alive.
Formaldehyde pride
preserved inside a dead body
of morality compromise
Living a lie
is a ceremonial breathing exercise
Of all the bridges you burned,
cremation was the last choice wrong turn
Afraid to be buried below
with the worms,
Your remains stayed above ground,
in a silver urn
Some want their ashes scattered by the wind,
vain thoughts of conceit
Believing thru death they defeat
body reconstruction —
Overthrow the resurrection
Truant spirits who failed to learn,
cremation choice: casket eviction notice burn
First exit was a wrong turn
This misdirection God had anticipated,
and a course correction was duly slated
The Creator mocked the cremator —
ashes reconstituted and reassembled
Dust turning back into flesh,
the wicked must face the second death:
Get tossed into the lake of fire,
face the soul burn ... eternally dismissed
Is this the cremator’s desire,
choosing to die like the accursed wicked?
To be burned twice
is a horrible decision earned
Preferring that evil way to be put away the first time;
body consumed by the flame,
flesh turned into toast
Then get resurrected,
and taste death once more by a second roast ...
brimstone fire cremating
The ashes of sin,
never to be
urn preserved ever again
MY LIFE IN VERBS
by
JOHN M. ARRIBAS
Nothing, Something Treading, Swimming, Navigating, Vibrating, Penetrating, Dividing, Multiplying, Forming, Shaping, Moving, Kicking, Exiting, Crying, Breathing, Seeing, Sleeping, Being.
Suckling, Creeping, Crawling, Walking, Talking, Running, Growing, Playing, Adjusting, Adapting, Complying.
Enrolling, Attending, Learning, Reading, Writing, Socializing, Growing, Formulating, Postulating, Rejecting, Rebelling, Calming, Weighing, Accepting, Working, Earning, Idling.
Enlisting, Training, Deploying, Ambushing, Engaging, Killing, Wounding, Bleeding, Shaking, Praying, Repairing, Convalescing, Moving, Discharging, Homing.
Enrolling, Attending, Studying, Learning, Graduating, Working, Earning, Managing, Enriching.
Searching, Finding, Wooing, Marrying, Parenting, Guiding, Counseling, Bragging, Encouraging, Steering, Babysitting, Gloating, Watching, Glowing.
Retiring, Cruising, Visiting, Traveling, Tiring, Resting.
Aging, Slowing, Aching, Suffering, Failing, Ailing, Fading, Dying, Stiffening, Freezing, Cremating, Scattering, Nothing.
With the sudden loss of my dear wife,
In distant home land, I could not save her of heart attack,
With funeral pyres cremating her on banks of holy river,
Heart cried for weeks, family in shock for months.
Crying must become stealth, as work survival got critical,
The deep sorrow and shock got stacked in wounded heart,
Tears dried up externally, but flowed with emotions internally,
The feelings and longing for each other stayed in my heart forever,
Some internet friends, asked me to write my feelings,
A verse, a lament, whatever poured out of my heart,
After month of trials, one day the heart opened in poems.
The poems started pouring out some 20 years ago,
Some were love poems, some bore loneliness,
Some described her beauty and saw her in garden roses,
Heard her songs in the waves on beautiful beaches.
If it was not her loss, I would not have written a poem in my life,
My engineering training lacked vocabulary and knowledge of poems,
Wrote almost three hundred poems in next three years,
All in free verse without knowing abcd of poetry writing.