Long Incarnates Poems
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This is not a conversion disorder
There is nothing like numbness,
I can touch the report
I can feel the calender on my table
Not even blindness
Because i can see the list
Of things am met to spend
These few dollars i risk for
Don't even give it a thought
My muscles are functioning
I have been working for thirty days
I have been working on reports
While posting poems on PS
That sweeps my internet
Its just a choice disorder
I am loosing control
On my priorities
I am running mad over this tax
These workers drink electrify
Like elephants
There throats have rust on them
Hell No! Noisy bobs are back
For holidays, ready!!
To beg for their sweets justice
And holiday work help
Yet I paid their teachers
And the shameless landlord
Who brings his long beak
After smelling chicken on my stove
Knowing am now paid
Started coughing hard last night
For to remember 30TH is here
How do they call them
Insurance thugs or what?
Cant i just drive my car?
Are you gods to predict fate?
Then this government tax
Which makes those hippos
Break or plastic chairs on parties
Look at the city vendors
who shout at me
Uncle buy this
Dad buy this
Shut up are we clan mates?
These employs
You fire this, he incarnates in that
Same begging, same laziness,
Same excuses
All merciless keep peeping
In my office to measure
My disability to pay so that they call a strike
And this noisy woman
No salt, No food,
No sugar, soup,
No..hair
No...make up
No Sex!
Did I create 30TH
Or the fate of 31TH
These dollars i hold in my hands
Are invisible
I have worked hard
For those eating much they labor not for
I cant even pay myself on it
I i do someone will shout!!!
Till i go for a bank loan
And every one will smile
On 1st thanking me
For becoming poor
And making them rich
As they tell me stories of drinking themselves foolish
And cheat on their wives with strippers
As i remember
How i paid the last coin
To the church
For crying my tears in their pews
Its all i get
Hysteria at the end of the month
("Honeybee on Apple Blossom", 2020, original pen and ink)
Nourishing Soul
Like a bee to the flower
Holding pollen and nectar
What is it we seek at play in the fields of the Lord
If not nourishment of the soul?
All the basics (food, water, sex and shelter)
Being just that,
The basis for what the soul actually incarnates for;
Knowledge, wisdom, truth, beauty, love and music!
And so the eternal Way
Continually arises as a forking path
Between true and false, good and evil, love and fear
Each step a test of our discernment and resolution.
The soul by nature is just and true
And yet, like a clear mountain spring
Subject to contamination as the influences of this life,
This world, leave a mark; in short the karmic debts we accrue.
And so comes the practical necessity of purifying,
Nipping the inevitable distortion and perversion in the bud,
The stains – pure and impure - that remain,
From each choice and challenge met.
The king of purifiers of course being forgiveness
Based in simple gratitude for the simple fact of simply being
Alive and able to learn, grow and forgive anew
Traveling the open path in confidence with an open mind.
Thus we gain the keys to the High-way, hidden in our pocket all along,
The kingdom, ever-present Here and Now,
To walk alert, head up, eyes and heart wide open - to it all,
Knowing with resolution and discernment we’ll be just fine.
(12/26/25)
Y/our relationship with ecology and economics
incarnates polypathically,
multisystemically therapeutic,
like positive human relationships
and richly fertile sacred dreams
between DNA's biological unfolding and Vitamin D's
absorbing ways.
Our actively cooperating economic design,
political intent,
power assumptions,
love,
light of truth,
beauty,
multisystemic refueling therapy
for ego and ecohealing community,
Appositionally driven
shriveled by exhausting lose-lose practices
feeding shriven anger,
silos of fear and suffering,
haunted by monopolistic
monochromatic
mindless monocultural nightmares
of Black Hole entropic proportion,
socioeconomic pathology
wilting and suffocating purgation
monotheistic punishment
pantheistic imprisonment.
Black hole reverse-eco-normic competition
never ends with enough,
timelessly continues longing for infinity
of heaven at hand.
Ecological cooperation soon builds diversely inclusive sufficiency,
together,
healthy warm kinda wealthy,
but just right,
pricklygoo co-invested
muse amusing culture.
If we don't fly apart first,
we might learn to fly
and swim
and breathe together,
drinking from the same aerobic/autonomic fountain of knowledge,
in bull-bear fueled nutritional flows and ebbing markets
polyculturally optimized self-with-other resilient design.
EcoTherapy practices peaceful Earth development,
proactively nurturing
co-passionate bipartisan
notBully/notBear balanced
therapeutic EarthTribal nutrition.
In the hall destined for silence, where no word incarnates into awakening,
A desolate abode, where the heart rests free and in falling.
Torn tears flow, rivers of troubled and sluggish melancholy,
Thoughts that hunt me, that follow me relentlessly, merciless, fierce, potent.
Memories, tapestries of time we used to weave together,
Now just specters that slither in the shadow, haunting me incessantly.
We drift apart, farther and farther, into shadows of non-meeting,
How could I halt the decline of my heart, this star falling quietly into dimming?
The silence of the evening screams too forcefully, a bell that echoes through all my rifts,
A vibration that envelops me in a pain that leaves a cold pride, wood too hard and rotten.
The pain persists, a steadfast comrade, a caress with a trail of chill,
A pain that does not bend, a string of bitterness that does not end and refuses any sought solace.
In moments when my soul sours, I call you in my silence,
A silent cry, an invocation for the solace of a new reality, for the renaissance of an azure sea.
I desire you back whole, in my pulse, in the rustle of a living heart,
To sew the ancient rupture, to stretch your light over my fragments, to heal me, to make me whole.
Ah, I know well that my plea is like a swarm of pale butterflies,
And I do not seek your sympathy to trickle slowly, to moisten my brow weighed down by thought.
The fibers of my heart frayed under the veil of a pale moon and incomprehensible murmur,
Look at me, our great love now buried under the waves of a wild ocean, a realm that seems boundless.
Clinging to the sweet-bitter memory, a shadow once full of enchantment,
I hope that one day, my being will bloom anew, under the palms of recharged hope,
And even if it will not happen, even if it will remain in its feeble emptiness, I will know it was the loftiest fate.
For even in strife, I will serenely embrace the charm of an elusive world, a fairy tale of the cosmos that does not forgive.
I belong to metallic soiled Earth,
solar-fired water's atmosphere;
these oil and blood-fluent elements
would feel freer
not belonging to you,
to us.
They
we
are our belongings
but not our property,
commodity.
Our multicultural values
measure and calculate
design and develop
investing primal qualities of time
predicting secondary quantitative spatial outcomes.
Less time constrains freedom and value and love.
More freedom responds to surrounding needs and wants and relationships
with less dissonant restraint,
competitive response;
with more cooperative invitations
for mutual mentoring regenerate options,
our pacific path revealing positive intentions.
Missing freedom suffers,
as missing incarnation dissonates,
as absent polynomials disformate.
Incarnation's value grows enculturing time
measured with Earth's elements,
temporal functions,
systems design and development.
Each element
identity
system and set
contains regenerative potentiating value,
functionally forming network constellations
of prime-frequency, flow,
rhythmic relationships,
sustaining balanced harmonies,
an ecological economy
static until its season to unfold again.
Limited value decomposes from ego-systemic mortality.
Regenerate value emerges from eco-logical coincident, co-arising comprehension.
Space enacts time's liturgical rite of passage,
as time incarnates space's ambidextrous function
with fractal equivalent information.
Ambivalent eco-normic tipping points
out equi-valent ecological potential,
permacultural regenerate systemic nutrients
for sustaining polycultural maintenance.
We grow adeptly incarnating cooperative economies
as we become allergic to commodifying competition,
win-lose systemic incorporations.
Well-apprenticed permaculturalists,
Taoists,
Buddhists,
Fullerian Synergists,
enthymematic communicators
re-ligious self-with-other integrators,
economic ecological care of Other,
Earth Justice,
perhaps even Universal Intelligent therapeutic care,
evolves yeastfully prime rooted in multisystemic integrity.
We reach deeply and widely within remembering
our justice womb of poly-solidarity,
regenerate subsidiarity swimming
remerging toward light's bright flashing flight.
We belong to Earth
and feel freer longing with all of us together
in one Earth-bound network cycle.
I could be less positive of time's resolving karma
without not(not) as negative
binomially defining
what is not polynomial not
and what must be more positive
you see, or not.
This double negative binding positive
hurts my bicamerolling brain
intuiting what is not Right
deducing what could be Left
to permacultural imaginings
balancing economies with ecologic
synaptic sap reversing
not aptic snap
fusing neural patterns
of polynomial permaculturing positions
overwhelming this knot of double nots.
To be
is to belong meta-diastolic,
I hope a positive existential phenomenon,
whatever that might mean.
But, too long this longish longing
is not to not be,
it is simply a not
waiting for a second;
to not not long
incarnates belonging grace
and not not karmic knots
in negative implicating space
without a proper polynomial place
for knotish naughty
not not negative integrity.
Karma double-masks what grace uncovers
as incarnation reverses back
toward naked origin of well-wombed undouble-knotting fetus,
DNA enscribing nurture's primal covenant,
warm and fertile buddha-care.
Uncovered human nature
erupts through Janus-masked cocoon
discovering nature's
uncovering intuition of polyculturing unity;
and competitive not,
hidden within ego-defensive
cognitive dissonance,
immune instinct
repulsing tied-up distinctions.
Biting into life's positive oysters
risks gnashing knotty pearls.
Because the mind still stays
The memory of the holocaust,
And the face reflects the twinge that still lurks
In the hollow of our frail hearts;
My mournful pen shall bleed
In a forever flow of pensive mood.
We are survivors
Who suffered the flame of covid.
We are survivors
Who sampled the taste of death.
We who saw the gate of hell and live
To tell the tale that hell is cosy,
Compared to the wicked world;
We are now casualties of war.
Hell is a cooling place
The earth is not.
And no one devil inhabits a calming hell.
They all abide with us here in the flaming hell;
For the earth is hell,
The hell is earth.
The earth is hell where the devil-incarnates dwell.
The hell is place where the hostile hunger
Shoots fiery darts at poor souls.
The covid slaughtered its thousand,
We heard it.
Hunger slaughtered its ten thousands,
We saw it.
The devil is innocent,
Man is not.
Many visited the heaven but never return;
It is safe to die.
Many visited the street but never return;
They were shot in the head.
But thousands remained indoor,
There they welcomed their death and followed him.
The death loved them more than their rich neighbours.
Tell me, why my sorrowing pen won’t bleed
When death is kind and man is cruel?
Tell me, why my sorrowing pen won’t bleed,
When the devils hoarded palliatives;
And poor souls suffer?
Those invented pandemic did no harm;
Those feign pandemic to peculate did.
Those declared lockdown meant well;
To feed man with the wind,
And slaughter souls in hunger.
Lekki toll-gate episode is enough
To succor our grieving souls.
Now to those buried their dead
In the heart of their memories
For the lack of further space in the burial sites;
In the sundry lands and climes
Where pandemic havocked like hell;
To you whose mirth has been ceased
By the cacophony of the holocaust;
To you whose land the inferno lingers still;
May you be brave to fight to victory.
May new dawn cure your night of mourning.
May you forget the season of cold;
By the warmful rays of sunshine.
May your heart be filled
With overwhelming songs of joy.
For until this war is over;
And the mind lets go
Of the memory of the holocaust,
And the face reflects the ebullient heart of the optimist;
My mournful pen shall continue to bleed,
In a forever flow of pensive mood.
"Deep Sea Sky Blue"
the contented life
rises and falls
bedded
the treasure chest
is touched briefly
inside a shell opens
constricted mind
of heart swallows
the bends,
it is found
wanting, so
releases
the fast,
changeling
embryo soul,
le enfant terrible
feeling the rips
like selkie
walls of skin
cool and warm
currents sucking
dark and light
kicking out
the within,
a transparent
circle rises
still life
perpetually
repeating
on carnate
incarnates
unstill
the unseen
surfaces
and surveys
the contented life
how it
rises and falls
bedded in shades
and shadows
of gently rising
and plunging
azure
outside
from within
deep sea
sky blue
(LadyLabyrinth / 2022)
"Sea of Calm", 432Hz
https://youtu.be/u033bj7V9Kw
I thought I’d go too far away with you
Where our dream will be true
But one bullet shatters the flower
Which spreads the scent of love in the air
I thought I’d win one day the throne of God
Where our prayers are compiled a lot
But one bullet stabs the hands of the praying
Which embraces you as a true human being
I thought I’d spend thousands of autumnal fair
Where our unity will be a divine pair
But one bullet incarnates the pair a corpse flood
Which drives away the innocent fresh blood
I thought the rose would be our commutable heart
But the inhuman bullet makes it an imperialist dart
© Mahtab Bangalee
October 21, 2023
Chattogram
Each day an extension of my time
so each morning a risk and opportunity
to avoid greedy egocentrism
to step into harmonious eco-centered consciousness.
Each still-wombed entity extends Mother's incarnating time
so each maternal risk and opportunity,
each free will act of paternity,
aborts competitive egocentrism
by extending bipartisan consciousness,
wisdom's good faith fertility
for our co-operating future.
Each life extends time's enculturing memory
of secularizing risks
and sacred opportunities
avoiding evolution's monopolistic dead ends
by embracing revolution's polyculturing awareness.
Each moment incarnates maternity's wombed memory
of monoculturing risk and polypathic opportunity
to avoid deductive domination's severance
by mutually embracing
multi-paradigmatic synergy.
Time is a unitarian womb
and its omnipotence is universal!
Fathomlessly ubiquitous.
Like the double-binding revolutionary progenitor of all things.
Its smooth-structured boundaries resonating
prime relationship not-not tangles informing,
untying,
Its Earth tempered balance of enlightenment,
Its turmoil decomposing dissonant understories
Yet
like dark deep ecological flow
it sustains Earth's green/blue Commons.
I do not know whose holonic embryo
EarthTime fractally unfolds,
a 4-dimensional echo
of seasonal reincarnation
within bicameral communion.