Long Foolish Poems
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From the heart of green naïve village
surrounded by corps field, mosque, ponds,
ancestral grave yard, school, college,
madrasah (islamic school) etc he is
brothers, sisters with parents, a beautiful family
with relatives, neighbors he had
learned person he was, full memorizer of
the Holy Quran and institutional study was 10th grade
but dreams touched his eyes, his breaths, his veins
the dream in the hollow eyeballs of him
flaring dreams have been gathered in his sight
dreams touched his ideality, his mediocrity, his learning
against the holy verse
dreams touched him inseparably
dreams touched him within vain clothing
dreams touched him within flirting industrialist mind
dreams touched him within merciless sky scraper building
dreams touched him within fake benevolent charity right hand
dreams touched him abortive assurance giving to others in generosity smiling
dreams made him blind to the path of income
small income once made up him happy with family and relatives
but leaving small, come to big on the lame stretchers dreamy boat
he did not understand- dreams in lazy hands is
misfortunate hell for upcoming every steps
dreams made him luxurious ambitious as
the begging bag before learning how to beg
dreams made him laughter in garrulous argument
as happiness of billionaire under torn blanket
in biting cold winter dreamy night
dream made him foolish dandy in business world
as Xerox machines copying activities
which has no personality to make another root
to survive with it as parasite
dreams made him passerby the dark path
dreams made him lonely walker
dreams made him lonely resident on title-less building of hill view
dreams made him unknown religious in the eye view of unfamiliar him
dreams made him a dark horse in flattering broker world
dreams made him hilarious land lord in his verbose copying documents
dreams made him a beggar in heavenly real eyes of the sun,
crystalline day approved him he was dreamer only
from the dreams he made his journey to be great
benevolent helper of relatives and neighbors
he was dreamer but in paralyzed bone and indolent veins
and this dream awakens him in tears of mysterious death
(Written on my Maternal Uncle Hafez Abdul Allam 4th July 1962-29th July 2018, who was inactive but great dreamer, but sudden death of him makes us heart rending cry)
Chorus
Banks! Banks! Let us all do away with banks
And their dirty tricks and their silly pranks
Banks! Banks! They mean very little to me
If I was the king all banks will be history
If I was the king all banks will be history
If I was the king all banks will be history
Verse One
Banks are stingy
Banks are greedy
They steal from the needy
Banks never give but they love to take
If your friend is a bank
He will rob you before you wake
Only fools bail out the banks
Because I will rather take my money
They sold me worthless shares when my day was sunny
With the hope that one day I will lick from the bank’s honey
Now my day is rainy and I don’t think it is funny
I would never buy those shares I rather buy an Easter bunny
Only foolish kings bail out the banks
I rather bail out a pauper
The economy is going bad
While my people are left to suffer
Beware of the banks and the evil that they do
Today it is me but tomorrow it may be you
Chorus
Banks! Banks! Let us all do away with banks
And their dirty tricks and their silly pranks
Banks! Banks! They mean very little to me
If I was the king all banks will be history
If I was the king all banks will be history
If I was the king all banks will be history
Verse Two
Bank! Banks! They can never be your friend
Today they are collecting your money
But you are broke
They say see you later Sunny
Beware! Beware! Beware!
When a bank tells you sign here
They will take everything you have
Including your underwear
Is it your bit of filthy magic?
To trade with a bank may be tragic
Shrewd little goldsmith demanding for gold
And any item of value
Or anything he could see or hold
Bald headed money lenders demanding for a pound of flesh
You can take the meat from his cheek
But remember that no blood must spill
Banks don’t care they will rather kill
Take off his damn head off with a sharp edged steel
Deducting money from my account bill bill bill
Banks are the biggest thieves because the love to steal
Banks destroy the economy and they never heal
Banks will charge you money for a rotten potato peel
Banks! I hate banks!
They say can I borrow you some money
I say no thanks
Banks! Banks! Let us all do away with banks
And their dirty tricks and their silly pranks
Banks! Banks! They mean very little to me
If I was the king all banks will be history
If I was the king all banks will be history
If I was the king all banks will be in misery
Sappho Translations I
Sappho, fragment 132 (Lobel-Page 132)
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
1.
I have a delightful daughter
fairer than the fairest flowers, Cleis,
whom I cherish more than all Lydia and lovely Lesbos.
2.
I have a lovely daughter
with a face like the fairest flowers,
my beloved Cleis …
It bears noting that Sappho mentions her daughter and brothers, but not her husband. We do not know if this means she was unmarried, because so many of her verses have been lost.
Sappho, fragment 131 (Lobel-Page 131)
loose translations/interpretations by Michael R. Burch
1.
You reject me, Attis,
as if you find me distasteful,
flitting off to Andromeda ...
2.
Attis, you forsake me
and flit off to Andromeda ...
Sappho, fragment 140 (Lobel-Page 140)
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
He is dying, Cytherea, the delicate Adonis.
What shall we lovers do?
Rip off your clothes, bare your breasts and abuse them!
Sappho, fragment 36
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Vain woman, foolish thing!
Do you base your worth on a ring?
Sappho, fragment 130
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
May the gods prolong the night
—yes, let it last forever!—
as long as you sleep in my sight.
... a sweet-voiced maiden ...
—Sappho, fragment 153, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
I have the most childlike heart ...
—Sappho, fragment 120, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
There was no dance,
no sacred dalliance,
from which we were absent.
—Sappho, fragment 19, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
I love the sensual
as I love the sun’s ecstatic brilliance.
—Sappho, fragment 9, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
I love the sensual
as I love the sun’s splendor.
—Sappho, fragment 9, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
You anointed yourself
with most exquisite perfume.
—Sappho, fragment 19, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Awed by the moon’s splendor,
stars covered their undistinguished faces.
Even so, we.
—Sappho, fragment 34, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Keywords/Tags: Sappho, Lesbos, Greek, translation, epigram, epigrams, love, sex, desire, passion, lust, lesbian, LGBTQ
The day you abruptly went away,
My heart became frozen and my soul grew shades of gray,
My little eyes watched as your cadillac pulled out,
After listening to all those screams and foolish shouts,
The driveway was vacant, the house became dark,
I knew at that moment we would never again go to the park,
When I got home from school you would not be there,
I prayed to God that you would still some how care,
No one explained to me at seven years old,
That I would have to watch so much unfold,
Depression set inside that vacant place,
I no longer had that bright smile on my face,
The tire swing we built together fell apart late that June,
I would now have to learn way too soon,
How to fend for myself and take your place,
I had to fill your empty space,
I tried so hard to be like you,
Even built a tree house in honor of you,
I learned how to fix things around the house,
I even protected mom once from a mouse,
But no matter what I did,
It did not make up for me not allowed to be a kid,
Other kids got to see their dads, even when their parents got divorced,
But that wasn’t the case for me of course,
All I did was think of you, my first love had been devastatingly untrue,
The events that happened after can’t be written in just one poem,
Only God could possible have the right size thread to have sown
The chunks that life took out of me,
All because my daddy never came back to be
What every little girl desires
The protector, provider, the one who inspires
All grown up and it is now bitter sweet
For now I help other little girls whose dads caused them to have years of defeat
One day when I have my own
I will be able to set the right tone
I will be able to feed my inner child
Embrace her and enjoy what you so freely defiled
We either repeat are parent’s mistakes or do whatever we can to prevent
That generational cycle from becoming like cement
Braking it now and forgiving you
Was the best thing I could ever do
For I harbor no resentment and I have no anger
I just know that not having a father put me in a lot of danger
But I am blessed to have had my heavenly dad
He was the one who was there when I was sad
He was the one who protected me from strife,
The one who taught me how to reverse my life,
I can live free because now I see,
what you did in the end, hurt you more than it did me.
By: Sabina Nicole
Written 9/6/11
My soul hates this type of love. It's literally my natural enemy. However, I am happy, truly, because I stay true to myself. At the same time, my anger is an acidic stream of fire more powerful than a billion PSI and roars at speeds greater than sound. I choose selfishness as my path in life. Love is never stronger than selfishness nor is selfishness stronger than love. Emotions don't have power alone, we give them power. Like swords, the wiser and more skillful one is at wielding them, the more rewards there are to reap. Selfishness is stronger than love in any and every way if a hint of fairness and integrity are added to it. Humans are not able to love one another, it's delusion at best. I always ask romantic couples why do they love their partner, they almost never know why. I personally believe that if love was real in humans, it should be a conscious decision, not an instinct because lust is instinct. Lust is selfishness, while love is selflessness. So many people delude themselves into thinking that they're in love with someone, when in reality, they're attracted to something that person has, physical or non-physical material. Logic is also more powerful than romantic love, which shatters the maze that countless get lost in. Though life is no straight path, logic and selfishness make life great if used wisely. Selflessness isn't foolish in and of itself, most use it incorrectly. No matter what, selfishness and logic are some of my strongest powers. These two strengths will get me farther in life than most who have a romantic partner, especially in freedom. There is no freedom in love, going rogue is the only option. I'm proud to be a maverick as I improve my own power and avoid seeking help from humans, face to face, as much as possible. I am stronger than romantic love, because, once again, I stay true to myself. Staying true to myself is the sword I use to cut down delusion and defend myself against other lies. No human on Earth is my ally nor my enemy, I'm someone who lives for fun and not for a purpose like a soldier. Life isn't meaningful nor meaningless, we give it meaning, though I find most of life to be worthless. My life, devoid of romantic love, will keep pressing on the more I dive into freedom and the blissful depths of wise selfishness. As such, I will keep fighting onward against my enemies, romantic love and other frauds like it.
June 3 Relationship to God Bible Meditations Based on Psalms 68-70
Key Verse – Psalm 68:5 A father of the fatherless, and a judge of the widows, is God in his holy habitation.
LORD GOD, YOU ARE MY FATHER ALMIGHTY
Lord God, You are my Father Almighty,
surely arising to carry me to Your presence
Thank You for Your salvation that makes me rejoice with gladness’ essence…
Seeking Your will, I dwell in Your holy habitation’s iridescence
Set me always in Your goodness to overcome solitary gloom-license.
Lord God, You are my Father Almighty,
securely establishing me by Your perfection
Thank You for Your stability that guards me from foolish instruction…
Standing upon Your grace, I praise You for Your benefits’ provision
Seal me always with Your mercies, beyond depths of my transgression.
Lord God, You are my Father Almighty,
steadfastly leading me to Your sanctuary
Thank You for Your sacrifice that causes me to follow You toward victory…
Submitting to Your wisdom, I come to Your enclosing hands of glory
Strengthen me always by Your power midst my worry because of sin-misery.
Lord God, You are my Father Almighty,
sweetly comforting me in my weariness
Thank You for Your satisfaction that confounds me of my haughtiness…
Stepping in Your light, I abide in Your righteous zealousness
Sanctify me always along Your cleansing pardon toward my holiness.
Lord God, You are my Father Almighty,
sincerely hearing me and my prayer’s plight
Thank You for Your shield that encloses me within Your deliverance-delight…
Singing for Your honour, I exalt You for Your help in my distress-blight
Stir me always midst Your gentleness as from sorrow, I take my flight.
Lord God, You are my Father Almighty,
straightly humbling me of my arrogance
Thank You for Your specialty in miracles gripping me with divine elegance…
Shining with Your radiance, I claim Your granted eternal inheritance
Sustain me always with Your supplies along stewardship-assurance.
Lord God, You are my Father Almighty,
speedily rescuing me in Your timely haste
Thank You for Your servanthood example that prods me for works so chaste…
Staying in Your plan, I overcome worldliness’ tempting vanity waste
Support me always in my quest to savor Your of heavenly taste.
"THE BIRD CANNOT FLY"
No matter how hard he flaps his wings body won’t lift,
is it obesity or small wings?
He shouldn’t devour the food mother
fed him but do some exercise for flying,
worse yet,
he pecked on and bit siblings
in order to snatch all the food
the mother brought back causing them all to die;
his gluttonous appetite and cruel treatment made
him incapable of lifting his body in the air;
if a bird cannot fly, he is not a bird anymore
then, where to go and what to become to fly in the air.
"THE BIRD LOST SONG"
Although he had a beautiful voice
he drank sweet wines to have a more beautiful voice,
he smoked marijuana to have a more voluminous voice;
blinded by brilliant stage lights and fancy spots,
intoxicated from the shouts of fans, he ruined himself
in the tremendous popularity,
his fame made him arrogant, he fell into narcissism,
he jumped up and down on the stage and soared in the air
to tear down the floodlights hanging from the ceiling,
foolish enough to think that his feathers are brighter
more luminous than the floodlights; flapping his glittering wings,
he fell from the ceiling and was sucked into a bottomless pit.
"THE BIRD WITHOUT FEATHERS"
The starlight reflecting on a treetop is so beautiful
though he knew he couldn’t fly anymore, he stretched
open his old and infirm wings and flapped, looking at the sky,
to soar in the air; alas, Zeus’s thunderbolt struck him that moment.
His body was torn to pieces, his feathers were plucked away,
and because of all his cuts and bruised body, the remaining plumage
lost its splendorous colors; no matter how well he took care,
lost glossiness never to be restored, no matter how gently he combs,
his feathers fall out feebly;
when he looks back, he was a prisoner of vice
he was obsessed by insatiable lust,
the flower is so colorful
it smelled so sweet, he kept following
bewitched by the beauty of its alluring looks;
before he was aware of it, he got stuck in the mud, sunk into
the depth of vice; and though, he got out from mud just before
he was suffocated to death, his entire body was covered with
the scabs of evil,
the water flows, though he has no strength
to cross the river any more, it’s time to, he may be
washed away by the water, or dip himself in the water
to wash his scabs of evil out.
You, me, seashore, one place, one earphone,
Coconut with two straws—one ice cream, two noses.
Cold winds, but your warmth wraps me whole,
Two souls in one sweater, hearts beating slow.
Sitting under the moon, watching him chase the clouds,
And that night, love, I realized how foolish I’ve been,
Calling you my moon in all my poems—
When he borrows his light, and you, you shine without a single shadow within.
Our legs sinking into the sand, always chasing the shore,
Waves kissing our toes as they meet once more.
I’ll show you the pictures—screenshots I took slowly,
Not the perfect ones, just the freaky, fuzzy shots where you’re you, wholly.
I lied when I said I was chasing butterflies in your hair,
You were between my legs, your spine pressed against my chest,
Wrapped in one jacket, sharing warmth, our breaths in sync.
The shore beneath us, waves whispering secrets at our feet.
I told you I was playing with a butterfly,
But really, I was setting your hair free from that clip that didn’t care.
I needed to feel your hair wild, untamed, falling like waves,
As it brushed against my face, soft strands dancing with the breeze,
Every lock sent chills down my spine,
Your scent filling the air, your hair wrapping around my fingers,
And the wind, like us, was making us one,
Your hair, in its messy perfection, said more than words could ever speak.
Your hair blowing, my eyes closing, breath aligning with the wind,
Like the universe itself was folding us together, as if it had planned it.
Let’s forget forever—just be with me tonight—
Until we count every star, holding on to each other tight.
No time, no crowd, just you and me, enough as we are,
I want to bury my ego in the sand, let it go,
In that moment, I’ll be mad, unfiltered,
The way I would be before my mother, no regrets left to show.
We’ll dream of a future, a life we’ve yet to write,
Maybe two passengers might join us—two little hands we’ll miss tonight.
And as our eyes grow heavy, as stars fade from the sky,
We’ll break the chains that hold us, love—eyes closed, we’ll fly.
Good morning, whenever we wake from that sleep so deep,
Now four hands and two rings—two hearts that forever keep.
The rest of the story, love, I’ll tell you in a language only we’ll know...
When we leave this seashore.
Matters not how much I may want to rescue you
That closed steel door I cannot walk through
Outside the door feet planted firmly on the ground
Knocking every so gently trying not to pound
But everytime my knuckles on the door they tap
Stinging fire flies out and my face is slapped
Through the pain I can hear your plaintiff calling
For something to save you from further falling
So to my purpose I try bravely to stay true
Attempting to find a path to get through
To figure out a way in which my spirit can fly
Over walls of brick so tall they touch the sky
A prisoner within chained by ego, pain and guilt
There I can see the Fortress you've built
Out of the windows fire of anger consumes
Any real healing touch you continue to refuse
Because the rescue does not come totally free
Only you have the power to open the door and choose to believe
"Can't and won't take the risk you say
Of the sorrow you'd feel when it all blows away
Denying that you must search deep down inside
Beyond your walls and utterly foolish pride
You can keep decorating the walls as long as you like
And continue convincing yourself it's your lot in life
And when the spirits that be send you a sign
Crush it with cruelty and continue to resign
To the anger that keeps reaching out with a fire that burns
Against a true spirit whose soul only yearns
For nothing more than to grant your wish
Of inner peace and true love sealed with a kiss
But all the angry fire steals my strength
Taking my sensitive spirit to it's very length
My failure then scars my heart truly bad
That after the pain I become so very sad
Once able to see through my heartfelt tears
I know it so well and can feel all your fears
If only my love spirit I wish for you to see
How I offer all I have to you so humbly
Because even after the faeries come carry me away
The gift I give to you is to ease your dismay
No intent to cause pain or wreak havoc in your heart
Just only for you to escape the lonely part
Simple and free with no evil involved
"First" you say. "So many issues to resolve"
The walls of brick you've built over time
Seems like an eternity they would take to climb
When all along if you so choose
With a blink of an eye and not a moment to lose
It's been a matter of your choice to reach beyond
Those walls of protection to which you've grown so fond
........Cont'd in Part II
I’m stealing through a twilit realm, the ancient pale of Whereis,
passing chambers of an Heiress
(though no need to feel embarrassed)
through a magic mystic mirror hanging curtainless.
A glimpse near naked alleyways (denuded by the moon) ex-
poses Ghosts in gauzy tunics
carving symbols, round and runic,
in distended dingy dungeons of uncertainness.
Down misty streets of cobblestone – ancestral avenues –
patchwork paths consume my shoes
(chasing foggy curlicues
twisting, twirling by in twos,
floating anywhere they choose),
leaving footprints that confuse
vagrant wispy retinues
of the threaded wooden sticks that stalk a Puppet wandering.
Condensed in drops of fantasy, distilled in evening dew,
shifting Shadows I pursue
(wearing faces I once knew,
slipping slowly from my view)
turn their backs to bid adieu
leaving stars to tempt me through
Awful Tower residues
mocking treasures time outgrew
in the birth of old from new
framing pageants in review
midst the visions of the painted past I can’t help pondering.
Contorted candelabra claw the skyline’s walled suspension
caught in twilight’s intervention
– still unlit (in stark dissension),
therefore seething with a tension
in the quiet apprehension
of the Watchman’s inattention
to the night-time’s bold pretension
to her power, not to mention,
to her hyperspace extension
(far beyond my comprehension
of the sundown’s bleak dimension) –
on exhausted beaten boulevards of foolish fretfulness.
Oblivion depletes me, voiding haste and hurried hassles,
me, a simple abject vassal,
trailing moonlit floating castles,
– fickle feet, but fingers facile
grasping straws and pendant tassels –
as I stumble through the rubble of forgetfulness.
I think I must be dreaming as I seem to see these things,
neath a sky alive with wings
(hear the Nightingale, she sings),
midst the whispered murmurings
soughed by Phantoms clad as Kings
pacing palaces in rings,
while their hapless footfall clings
to the sagging sinking sands of midnight’s splintered splattered ruins.
Entangled in the swirling leaves that spin in dizzy flurries,
(while the wind beside me scurries
as an ermined hermit hurries)
lurk my sleepy woes and worries
(glowing faint’ but growing blurry)
which, when plundered by the demon dusk, I’d left behind me strewn.
Continued in Part 2