Long Disclaimer Poems
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Pure awareness
Unattached to form
Just IS
As it IS
Complete
But since the awareness wishes
Choicelessly wishes
To engage in movement
It does
Creating matter
And energising it
With a part of itself
Without reducing itself
Or being affected by matter
Though in it, with it
And so
Matter ...
Or consciousness
Thus energised
By awareness
Yawns
Stirs
Stretches
Awakens
And becomes itself ...
Awareness
There then being no difference
No separateness
Between the awareness
That brought this awareness
Into being
And ITSELF
The human form
Of consciousness
Is the latent awareness
Having already yawned
Already stirred
And now awakening
Within form
To become awareness
Pure awareness
Without form
The body
An instrument magnificent
Enigmatically magnificent
Within which
Consciousness detects
Grid lines that connect ...
The entire body itself ...
Completely
Each grid line
Having nodes
These nodes are then occupied
Energised
By awareness
Making them conscious
Just as awareness
Once made consciousness awareness
And so
Each node is now consciousness
Enabling awareness
To be joyous in movement
Of the node consciousness
Born
Energised
And awakening
Within it
Later to be distinct though unified
To itself become awareness
As is ALL
These grid lines
All interconnected
Across the body
Of which the spine to head chakras ...
Are but one
A prominent one but nevertheless ...
One of several grids
Each continuum of the grid
Whether at the node or without
Being alive & aware
So as such
Everything being awareness
In entirety
Yet ...
The magnification of awareness
At the nodes
Which are consciousnesses
Dormant and now created, born
Or say energised
Awaken
And thereby enable
The totality of consciousness
Within form awakening
And experiencing awakening
In conjunction within
Nodes awakening
In unison
As a symphony
Of the formless movement
Of awareness itself
Are connected at all continuums
Of the entirety of awareness
Boundlessly
Within form
Without form
As the one awareness
That IS
Disclaimer:
No elaboration offered
For the revelation in stillness
Which each consciousness
Awakening
To & as awareness
In timeless time
Receives and becomes
As One in Oneness
Pure Awareness
23-October-2020
Flashback from 30-November-2018
Pure Fantasy
Authors disclaimer this is the only poem that eye must disavow all attempts of
actual emergence no murder will ever be done...
The Central tower has a clock the people gather in the better spots at any given
time close to lunch the hits a go. There must be Four Thousand of them between
us and the road. We need to kill them all to ease the overcrowding problem. Web
attachments on. Make nice clean kills on the girls kill the boys slow and hard.
There is nine of us and when we are done they will kill us all. They have no
choice they will send someone. The retired air force colonel say it col o nell we
say it kernel practice it the European way he left he is not the threat the real
problem that we have is the old poet he can stop us. The one they call the
CharlaX. He is unafraid of men. Eye heard the screams of the wounded boys first
and the girls were never heard for they died fast. Eye sprinted out into the fray
looking this way and that. Eye grabbed the first man from behind and twisted his
head around to let him look at me the man who killed him then eye took his
Tommy gun and let it chatter at the next three men bunched up and lucky for the
me eye hit them with all three bullits in the gun the bullits meant for my poor
children on the mall. Eye won that round and took the gun from just one man and
the clips needed from the web attachments off the rest of them and went to look
for more and there were four. Eye pulled the bolt back on the Tommy and let
them have it full bore holding the barrel down to spray them fully not giving them
time to shoot at me and there is where they died. That left one the leader of this
dearth of circumstance. He tried to get me fast and he let up on his approach too
quickly missing me the needed inches in his haste to get it done. Eye did not
hesitate for in a fight it must be moments added to the microseconds needed to
complete a fight to get it on. Eye let the barrel swivel up cutting him so cleanly
and so neatly half into he dropped nothing left of feeling in a man beyond his
pain. The children who were left will never knoe how much eye loved them for eye
turned the Tommy up and cut it swiftly to my brain. The tenth man gone.
Pure Fantasy
Disclaimer- This
piece doesn't depict
any true events, nor
does it describe my
current state of
mind. It is what it
is, creativity at its
finest. Enjoy (or
not).
I lay in bed and look
up at the ceiling
late at night, the
same as many
nights before, but
sumthin just aint
right,
I'm fighting major
drowsiness and yes
I'm kinda shook, I
hope it doesn't hurt
those 40 sleeping
pills I took.
I'm tired of the life
I'm living cause it's
all a joke, I try and
mask my misery
with alcohol and
smoke,
the pain is cause
for laughter even
though it badly
hurts, I talk and
badly slur I guess
it's gone from bad
to worse.
I think about my
daughter growing up
without me here, I'm
sorry Stinky Faces,
Daddy's thinking
thoughts through
tears,
emotions mixed
with medicine, my
thinking's not too
clear, I'll miss the
coming years in
which to chase
away your fears.
It shouldn't have
ever come to this, it
really isn't fair, I
should've took
assistance but my
pride just didn't care,
the weight's
become too
burdensome for
mind and soul to
bear, I get up, try to
walk and fall face
first into a chair.
I'm on the floor and
leaking from the
gash above my eye,
commercials on the
TV say to kiss it all
goodbye,
but it's not really
saying that, it's all
inside my mind, so
funny what you hear
when on the verge
of time to die.
I'm thinkin on my
peoples and I'll
surely miss them
so, there's Chosen,
Nikki, Lady Ice, D.
Sweets plus Lou
and Stone,
the E.P.I.C. Fam,
my homie Rich,
bright lights just
make me stare, it
feels like
something's
grabbing at me,
baby take me there.
My thoughts soon
turn to Wifey and
the pain that she'll
endure, to fix
whatever ails me
God I wish she had
the cure,
I'm happy I won't
live to see the hurt
that's in her eyes,
to know I caused
this for my baby, I
deserve to die.
The blood loss
leave me
motionless, the pills
have hit their stride,
with visions of the
park I rode my bike
in all those times,
so long ago when I
was young but
times have rolled on
by, my final thought
is of my child and
then I close my
eyes,
goodbye.
SONG CREDITS :
Song : Mon Karigor
Singer : Tahsan
Lyric : Robiul Islam Jibon
Tune : Imran Mahmudul
Music : Imran Mahmudul
Album : Mon Karigor
Label : Cd Choice
Cast : Azim Uddula & Saowla
Director : Chandan Roy Chowdhury
Lyrics:
The foreshadowed clouds , wanderer within the sky
Not an easy one to tame through dispersing whisk
A faded glory wither down the colors, once held dear to heart
Once a plethora, a handful of gatherer bestowed, inner, introvert
Living through a mistaken grace
Rusty salty warm tears , a brimming trace
Genesis you said, Xanthosis, through these emotions, lingering long, worldly boom, recess
Craftsman Mr. Smith, let us halt the caravan in may
Simply whence it is calling to reborn in coming terrace whence autumn say
Craftsman Mr. Smith, let us halt the caravan in may
A rejuvenated dream factory will pull through the tambourine man…….
A painstaking lump some pain, overwhelming drowning a pour
Speechless a corridor and an ambling, nonetheless, lo and behold! None to hold accountable.
Wishful a mirror , a thousand whims
Ambivalence and a croon, tricking down the chicks of time, on lime.
Craftsman Mr. Smith, let us halt the caravan in may
Simply whence it is calling to reborn in coming terrace whence autumn say
Craftsman Mr. Smith, let us halt the caravan in may
A rejuvenated dream factory will pull through the tambourine man…….
The sand castle dream , too fragile a misfit, a shore the lively stream
Morbid a shore, enacted, plays along the indifferent acted upon, among the walks of dream
Craftsman Mr. Smith, let us halt the caravan in may
Simply whence it is calling to reborn in coming terrace whence autumn say
Craftsman Mr. Smith, let us halt the caravan in may
A rejuvenated dream factory will pull through the tambourine man…….
||END||
"Copyright Disclaimer"
Copyright Disclamer Under Section 107 of the Copyright Act 1976,allowance is made for "fair use" for purpose such as criticism, comment, news reporting, scholarship and research, fair use is a use permitted by copyright statute that might otherwise be infringe. Non-profit, educational or personal use tips the blance is favor or fair use.
It seems to me there are two types of people in the world…at least as far as I can see…there are those people who drink coffee…then there’s people who don’t…like Deborah and me.
When we mention to our friends we don’t drink coffee…they act like we have fleas…treating us as if we’e serial killers…or have some strange disease.
“You don’t drink coffee.” They shake their heads…oh they’re polite to us…but then…once the meals finished…we’re never asked back again.
What is it with you coffee drinkers and your love of the coffee bean?
Why do you put up with the absence of flavor…just to soak up some caffeine?
Oh, you’ll add some sugar, milk or cream…to get the flavor that you seek…but then your cup of coffee has enough calories for a week!
Some of you drink de-caf…you like the coffee flavor but think caffein’s too strong…well let me state now…for the record…I’m sorry…that’s just wrong.
Some of you love Starbucks…pardon me here for being curt…but why pay one weeks salary for a drink that’s just sweet dirt.
Our friends say there are many ways to drink coffee…they say…come on and try a swig…we say you can dress a pig in an evening gown…but in the end…it’s still a pig.
We’ll never stop you from drinking your coffee…never ask your intake to decrease…but…please…don’t make us drink that stuff…let us live our life in peace.
And stop acting like it’s Deborah and I who are crazy…like were’e the ones afflicted…when it’s quite obvious by your behavior that it is you who are addicted.
One day we hope you’ll finish your 12 step program and your teeth will be stain free…then…when you have friends over for dinner…don’t forget to invite Deborah and me.
Until that day when there’s finally no more sign of caffeine in you blood…think about this…why is that stuff you drink…is also known as mud?
DISCLAIMER:
DEAR COFFEE DRINKERS:
Although Jim has a right to his opinion…his views we will not defend…for we believe without coffee and coffee drinkers…the world as we know it…would end.
So please don’t listen to his rantings…keep drinking your coffee…never feel blue…
and we apologize for any discomfort his poem may have cause in you.
Your friends at Starbucks.
Pablo Naranjo Golborne / Pablo Golborne / Pablo Naranjo Nordau Neruda
Pablo Neruda (1904-1973), This poet was alive during the World Wars One and
Two. In 1943, Neruda returned to Chile, and in 1945 he was elected senator of
the Republic, also joining the Communist Party of Chile. Due to his protests
against President González Videla's repressive policy against striking miners in
1947, he had to live underground in his own country for two years until he
managed to leave in 1949. After living in different European countries he returned
home in 1952. A great deal of what he published during that period bears the
stamp of his political activities; one example is Las Uvas y el Viento (1954),
which can be regarded as the diary of Neruda's exile. In Odas elementales
(1954- 1959) his message is expanded into a more extensive description of the
world, where the objects of the hymns - things, events and relations - are duly
presented in alphabetic form. There is a disclaimer on the SSS card that says
this is NOT for identification purposes please keep your card in a safe place and
signed. Conflicting thoughts the police back home always asked me for mine
when on the road they ran it like an ID the numbers was instant on the radio. The
Students at this University take the Cat Card and swipe the strip into the slotted
door it makes it seem to me just like the Mark of the beast has come perhaps
early to some. Charles Robert Hice 429-04-1680. Deceased on May 13, 2004.
Alive and living for the return of Heaven door. Jesus oph please come back
before they institute the Mark on mee. To the purists of the poets no apology of
me this is a fabel not a poem not a rhyme intended but a short short story just to
past the thyme. My State Id Card has a PICTURE of me but no number at least
not the Dreaded Social Security Number and it does have the DOB but not
needed until called upon to produce it. Not yet on head forehand or forehead
or hand Most people will be proud to salute a nonexistent leader at the door to
every supermarket in the world the name and number of the beast becomes the
god.
We Danced written by Poet John Heck
I penned a couplet for you today.
Rather, a quill manipulated
my hand and scrawled mendacity.
The misanthrope's who read the ode
applauded with flippers on.
Such insight. Such depth.
Mussolini meets Monet and
the Mephistopheles Mambo mounts.
Call me a scribe and I murder myself.
Call me a liar and I impregnate your charm.
I purposely dislocated my arm today.
Rather, your tongue severed bone
and flesh was torn from my shoulder;
a needed braised boomerang
to stimulate my poetic prowess.
Such clarity. Such wisdom.
Lenin leads Lichtenstein and
the Lucifer Lindy is launched.
Call me a poet and I gnarl my fingers.
Call me a fabulist and I bow to a crooked smile.
A jellyfish swam through my veins today.
Rather, the tentacles of a tyrant
triggered a fabricated Tanka.
Maudlin stumbles when I laugh alone -
more comedic when we cackle together.
Such simplicity. Such compassion.
Bundy befriends Berchtold and
the Beelzebub Bossa Nova begins.
Call me a dramatist and I gag upon reflection.
Call me a simpleton and your wishes are granted.
I solemnly yearn to expire today.
Rather, a fool fires in a fury
and a mannequin lies in his casket.
The curse you've driven towards me -
a combination menu
when a lone Woolf inconspicously
devours a battered Browning.
Such diversity. Such nothingness.
Stalin seduces Seurat and
the Satanic Samba softly swoons.
Call me a parodist and I choke upon perfection.
Call me a realist when I'm sleeping on nails.
Disclaimer:" We Danced" poem written in the year 2009
by Mr.John Heck,a wonderful poet to be known who is no longer in our P.S family.
Being new to this site ,very sad to know few of them
have already demised.
Let's explore the treasure box by reading their works.
I am sure we can gain lots of knowledge and in fact
improve our writing skills too.
May the demised soul's RIP.
We can keep them alive through posting
and re-reading their dedications.
1-7-2020
Note: Submitting in "The Uncontest" Poetry Contest.
Sponsored by Anthony Biaanco.
Teresa!?!
~Tanner!
Terribly
Tardy?
Ticktock ;)
~Time?
T-minus
10
*
*
*
*
*
*
*
2
*
12:00am!
~2020!!!
2020!!!
Tequila
Toast!
~Tequilla
Toast—
To
2020!!!
To
2020!!!
~Terviseks!
Terviseks!
~Tasty :)
Tequilla
Tesoro
~Tesoro?
Translated
"Treasure"
~Tasty
Treasure ;)
Top-notch!
~Tip-top!
(tender
touch...)
~Terrific
Timing :)
Terrific
Time...
~Totally
Thoughts?
~Tired
Terrible
Timing :(
~Terribly
Tuckered.
Together
Tonight?
~Together
Tomorrow?
Together
Today!
12:00pm :)
~That's
True!
Today,
12:00pm :)
Terrific!
~Till
Then—
Tootles!
***
01/18/2020
Poetry form: Alliteration - Each poem in my Alliterative Alphabet Series describes conversations between two or more people while only using words that start with or sound like the first letter of the title of the poem. I’m publishing the poems as I write them on Wattpad.com, not necessarily in alphabetical order. My goal is to write at least 26 poems to cover each letter of the alphabet. I hope you find the concept interesting, maybe even clever. Most of all I hope you enjoy them :)
Disclaimer: This poem is fictional and does not depict any actual person or event. The names used are ficticious and were chosen to satisfy the requirements of the poetry form.
***Disclaimer: This is not so much a poem, as an exercise in stream of consciousness. I just sort of wrote what I thought about. Sorry if it makes little or no sense to anyone else. ;p
There is an intense power
misunderstood.
A little white lie,
a whopper of a tale,
in equal measure
alter, in the mind of listening ears,
reality.
In fact, the white lies,
those minor, subtle changes
conceal more believably
the truth.
But so what?
Nobody gets hurt.
Maybe one fudged things a little,
to get the deal,
to get the date,
to get what was wanted
and who cares?
Alternate realities
existing in varied minds
matter little in the long view,
or the grand scheme,
and yet…I wonder:
What is betrayal?
How far can we bend truth
how distorted can we make reality
how flexible is another’s trust
how forgiving?
The line seems to be getting blurry
or maybe it always has been
for lack of clarity
due to lack of information.
Convincing another of a lie
is compelled ignorance
of reality;
is playing God.
Which raises the curious point
of whether God
so toys with men’s perceptions.
But let’s not digress down that road,
we’ll save it for a sunset chit-chat.
Bear no false witness.
Swear on the truth.
Integrity.
What meaning have such morals
when at a word,
men create illusions
and other men gather
in a pretended utopia,
or dystopia, united.
Sharing drinks and tall-tales
lying to rest arguments
nobody is making.
Dispelling false realities
with their own false realities
But why not?
What is creativity if not
false expressions of what is.
Is abstraction not equally vile?
Perhaps then, there can be no art
without deception.
What if deception is,
at the core,
an art form.
Confident strokes of illusion
disassemble reality
one harmless lie
layered on another
in a hypothetical Guernica.
…and such are the times.
Amidst all the false accusations & tensions..
Blessing seems to have been showered
infinitely upon her,
Causing an absolute turn within.. by
Disguising her into a solid rock ~keeping herself busy
Engaged in lot of different activities,
Frequently fondles the brain to listen her own thoughts
~perceptions which,
Grins at her occasionally ..later helps her to glide
through....also she constantly chooses to~
Hear few wisdom words from loved ones.. so that
It keeps her inspired abundantly further pushing her
to be..
Jubilant in sharing cheer to everyone around.
Keeping strong faith in herself she tries to
Lavishly construct happiness with her 440 volts smile
~thereby leading her to..
Magnetically attract adamant souls filling them with
Nostalgic memories and taking them away from
Obstacles temporarily and bringing their
Prejudices in line.. that's been loaded inside them
in eminent..
Quantity, quietly she aids them to..
Retire from all their problems & fervently
Scrambles them up by pouring solutions into
their heart's.
Thoroughly re-assuring their well-being she also tries
Understanding their desires~slides faith & peace
Vivaciously and vigorously, and
Willfully watches them turn excited by
Xeroxing their state of mind which is
Yarning within them in
Zeal.
Disclaimer:"Smiling depression” is a term for someone
living with depression on the inside while appearing
perfectly happy or content on the outside.
9-5-2020
~DEEPA~
Note1:ABC poetry contest
Sponsor:Allright Poet
Forgot to enter:-(
5th place in the Contest.
Note 3:N-A re-run 7 Poetry Contest
Sponsor:John Hamilton