Long Inactivity Poems
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So many people help me. They are concerned, they rush to see if I am okay.
They listen when I want to tell my truth. They do not call me out
When I get outrageous. They are my up-lifters, and they want
Me to succeed maybe even more than I want to succeed.
I have spent years gleaning them and preening them.
I have developed my own tribe and it is amazing.
My Facebook “friends” are the ones I virtually see every day or two.
They hear my voice, and I hear their voices. But are they my real friends?
They are more like “virtual friends” – I know they are there, and
We are aware of each other. Some are from childhood. Some from thirty
Years of inactivity, and no communication at all to daily communication at first.
Others I have collected from word games I played only a little while,
but we had fun.
But my real tribe, the ones who have my back. I know who you are.
I have so many REAL friends, real true blue “die for each other” kind of friends.
At least six, maybe eight, which I think is more than adequate,
as I have not had to use them as truck fodder yet, to save my life.
Some of my newest, keenest, most aware-of-me favorite friends
and soul-family-friends
Are fairly new.
They magnanimously pretended that I wrote poetry until I actually did.
I did not know I even WROTE poetry until a year ago when I decided to try.
You are my tribe, and you know who you are and I am pleased with you.
Thank you for being here for me. It means volumes.
Untitled
We dance across the heavens, like shining stars,
to the never ending beat of our universes heart.
Its song, time – sometimes – becomes dull, grey,
aches of sentiment, in the throes of lofty sentimentality
that becomes red dew, flowering over the cornea, of a rose
releasing its sweet fragrance, ever so slightly, lightly
down the sides of its imaginary nose.
Sentiment, envy, desire, so anther life goes.
B. J. “A” 2
April 18th 2003
Untitled
I stand on the edges of a desire,
a desire to be all that, – in this life –
I have never been, – in all likelihood –
could never be, for it is not in me.
Yet, in me, it is, as I read biographies,
autobiographies, ancient histories,
I see the dream – illusive as it seems.
Heavy sheets of liquid crystal hang,
fall before these old brown eyes.
Only, the telling comes in ripples
that dot the landscape of reflections
painted upon the cold black surface,
of a pavement that lays before me.
A sad portrait is painted every day,
it comes in the reflections, of those reflections.
Life has flown me through valleys richly
carpeted in jewels, emerald green and serine.
Life has dragged me over rough, ancient mountains,
dropped me over sharp edged, rugged cliffs.
Life has hauled me across screaming creeks,
down raging rivers without a paddle.
Life has thrown me into the fires of hell,
upon plumes of smoke, sent into the ether.
Life has guided me into heavenly spaces
where one will find beautiful places.
Life has shipped me into the shadow less abysses
of blackness where light of night stars hang
in the endless skies where one opens eyes
B. J. “A” 2
April 19th 2003
Untitled
Life lived – looking back –seems to have been as poverty laden
as the life that lays before these tired old feet – its faden
with inactivity, motiveless, motionlessness passages of time.
The richness in both – lost to another time and state of mind.
And who really may care ?, about the poverty in both.
And who really may care ?, about the richness of both.
And who really may care ?, about the memories of both.
And who really may care ?, about the life or death of both.
With Easter at hand.
It seems the hand is the only one who cares.
Assumed death ?, assumed resurrection ?
B. J. “A ” 2
April 20th 2003
Time's admirer hijacks sections
Rips strings of delicious from fattest flesh
Imbibes fibres provided sublimely
Licks fingers with shameless relish
Nature's passenger adequately dazzled
Rides intention piloted by passivity
Waterwheel which in turn feeds many
Delivers ceaseless needed energy
Rise makes way to fall: a pair inevitable
Weaving a trail mountainside as goat
Supplied segment of cycle's spectacle
Leaving views acceptance of what follows
Leaf litter tickets event for fantastic next
Mouldering grows mushrooms quickly
Spring brings surprise unrivalled gifts
Finds a shape, adopts a place unchecked
Become slowly resplendent in your realm
Adoration wells from inclusive depiction
Autumn acknowledges drifting's worth
Inactivity observes thriving of parallels
Started drinking fruit flavoured water now
Not the tastiest but I'll keep trying, I vow
In the winter months I always seem to gain
Inactivity is the culprit, exercising's a pain
When I walk, it's much more like a waddle
Sure don't resemble a Givenchy model
Gonna keep on trying to recapture my youth
Downed another swig of gin and vermouth
Now everything appears to be quite copacetic
Gin works wonders as an anesthetic
So getting back to the fruit flavoured water
A lot more concerned than this guy oughta
I'm almost eighty-eight so why should I care
Soon I'll be trapped in my big easy chair
Wifey will feed me some ground up mush
Dentures down the toilet gets flushed
But there's a silver lining waiting for me
If I could only get rid of my gimpy old knee
Bottom line is this, sure had a great life
Came up a big winner by a roll of the dice
My skin crawls as I watch a hand,
disembodied,
reach yet again into the Tollhouse bag.
Bright, artificial yellow. It burns my eyes.
Countless chocolate chips are shoveled down my gullet
as if crumbs to a wretched, starving creature.
I’m only jarred out of my sinful haze by catching si th r of my reflection.
That face staring back at me - I don’t know it.
Dry, lifeless eyes,
the expression of a corpse,
chocolate smeared on the edges of my mouth.
Disgust rises like bile in my throat.
This stranger lives a soft life.
Hours spent lounging by the fire,
fleshy stomach warm and sated,
screen filled with ads and the inane,
I have never known struggle.
The world blazes with fire
and the screams of dying children surround the soul,
so I employ synthetic numbing agents.
Blue light has seared my nerve endings into inactivity
while glucose rots me to my core.
Do my vices truly dim the pain of helplessness?
Or do they simply induce a coma of false innocence
until I’m able to face the world?
“My” face stares back at me,
haunted and hated.
I am vitriol,
bottled up and consumed.
For consumption is the only skill we have left;
purses and devices and anything worth a cent are
boxed up,
framed with silver tongues,
and shoved down our throats faster than we can blink.
And we take the poison,
digesting it like the obedient cattle we are.
Not even thousands of victims can rouse us from our stupor,
willingly chosen to numb the conscience and the void
yawning from self-inflicted purposelessness.
Ibuprofen for the guilt of privilege and powerlessness.
I choke on the silver spoon from which I’m fed these pills
but find I swallow regardless.
Neon cased, luminaire, a work order about crystal chandelier
Neon cased, luminaire, a work order about crystal chandelier
Neon cased, luminaire, a work order about crystal chandelier
(Verily, this is rueful) you are only mine
farther shimmering, the glow is only mine
Within a halted time, elapsing the glitch
the memory and the earnest beseeching reach
Album cover landscape and hushed up Himalayan lullaby
Why the mindful departed with the left wing, and Ay!
Never land in Netherlands without the Norwegian home bound try!
Transparent a high in the foggy high beam , so high, up the sky!
Mystic moon river, thou shall never be a croon, a moonlit sun, o my!
In exile, revitalizing river , trained and maintained, lasting in eradicating a cosmos
cosmos and the cosmic, interstellar, a sensible old fashioned Oshkosh, perhaps a Ross!
Never to covet, never, never, never!
Ruminating Eldorado, gone with Shepherd, orchard a say!
A moonlit sonata and a streak of moonlight may ! Brazen Fenugreek and the Greek Gothic day!
Perhaps a light at the end of the tunnel , (forecasting atlas , dream reader's digest a!)
Grass root, barefoot, an odd and an audacity
Up the sky, an indecisive cry, limitless, unwholesome,inactivity!
Intertwined a mayhem alone, with the alone, an ayah for an usher color, glum and glee!
Cosmos and the cosmic, interstellar, a sensible old fashioned Oshkosh, perhaps a Ross!
Never to covet, never, never, never!
Ruminating Eldorado, gone with shepherd, orchard a say
A moonlit sonata and a streak of moonlight may !
In exile, revitalizing river , trained and maintained, lasting in eradicating a cosmos
Cosmos and the cosmic, interstellar, a sensible old fashioned Oshkosh, perhaps a ross!
Never to covet, never, never, never!
Copyright Tamanna Ferdous | Year Posted 2023
(Influenced by a song of Tahsan Rahman Khan)
Urge for Loyalty in service
The fealty Of taking badge pride
Vest no cunning brigade aegis
Fits in thE atmosphere of a better slide
Length of great passion
The wOrth of hampered green
Host the Voyagers wit caution
Gist thE sail save wave's careen
The center Lead of vaults
The crease mime lOgo of chime
Standing still against inactiVity waltz's blame
To aiding thE earth's issuing assaults
The pace of Lasting bond
The fear Of children's want
Stage aboVe the stake of tricky end
To wEigh the comely oath savant
There is no curse for the Least
There is nO cuss in adultery
Self loss accustomed drunk's saVory
But a no go loosE for liars amidst
Thou hath boLdness emit on earth
Averse nOthing opaque bearing the cross
To peace seeking doVe's directories' worth
Boosting Eon's hope crosswise
Whichever is it
Nothing worth more
Only love and love hit
Situating outward cares cum bore
When on mother earth you fall
Pass off no hatred
Cry all you can but stand tall
Above darkness influences that can be afforded
What a year – Tim was just a little boy of 25 – naïve and
Lost in ‘innocence’ a critical time bomb waiting to happen
Blue-eyed he listened to Nena’s 99 Red Balloons flying high
While Band Aid wondered whether They Know it’s Christmas
Sticking plaster for an ignorant conscience
Plasters cast for broken souls and hunger
Summer Olympics in Los Angeles the world disunited
As the Soviet Union boycotted the Festival of Youth
Hollywood and Universal Studios Footloose competed
With The Killing Fields for consumption and Oscars
Dancing in full view of the Apocalypse
Khmer Rouge and Holding Out for a Hero
Miner’s Strike in Great Britain with Margaret Thatcher’s
Heavy handbag crushing legitimate opposition’s pickets
Reagan became ‘acting’ president and Space Shuttle discovered
That we have only have one lonely planet so we must muck it up
Cold War awaited nuclear freeze and
Hiroshima was declared a minor aberration
Metallica roared Blitzkrieg inferno and Armageddon
Iraq fought Iran and guess who was supporting whom
The US supplied Saddam Hussein with poison gas while
In Afghanistan they supported Taliban and Mujahedeen
‘The enemy of our foe is our good friend’
Coalitions must change freely in axes of evil
George Orwell comes to mind with Eurasia Oceania and
Eastasia altering alliances but then history must be forbidden
It can mislead young minds and wars have to be waged
For the sake of gory glory and self-righteous delight
Who reads books anyway and why and for what
They might seduce us to hail love and compassion
In 1984 Tim longed for flowers in hair scribbled Peace signs
On flare bottom jeans 20 years past The Sound of Silence
Had not mustered the courage yet to challenge the inevitable
Collusion of his inactivity with happy murder for money and oil
Slowly though he finds his belligerent voice and
Concludes that the 80’s offer more than nostalgia
Honour through labour is the ultimate goal
Achievement’s prefect sending an alert at every pause
Regulating inactivity to give idleness no chance
Demand is great and the stake is high
Whether through the hands and sweat of the skin
Or through mental strain and thorough thinking
Regular stress is the propeller to its engine, but
Keep the ball rolling in a controlled speed
In the long run, the effect will begin to show
Narrow is the gap left, success is no more far
Goals and targets met, fulfillment the new crown
I attended three sermons in a row
In the neighborhood church on Jackson.
Tear dropped there too, on the quran of mine, sky-blue colored
And on the cover of the hymn prayer book, it strangely rhymed.
Sermon,
On Fridays and Sundays
Are they two unknown roads of Robert Frost?
Equally worn out? Equally taken along frequency?
So that strangers are mostly certain about the Tan, Sine and Cosine?
After an incessant rain , we could tell each other a tale , stopping, “Reign!”
Parentheses are like a memorandum of understanding, priorities of your own.
Papyrus,
After 5 pm, if they all there turn color blind to moo moo all the cows!
Cows that can type, and can create superb hypes!
I pressed, paused and neglected my churned up pasteurization
As for now,
Meaningful work-life -balance will do a sieve analysis, as per annum
Soup egg drops in an ocean of lemon grass
To make a way
As the cook was befitting!
Does not matter anyway, better leave her precious to leave or granted to go!
Silence is gold at times, and dollar values are poisons!
In-Activity or Inactivity
A silence knows the fairest reason!