Long Intoxication Poems

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When the Earth Was In Danger 5

When the Earth was in danger     5 /8

Prelude   (For Prelude please see part 1 )


Watching the changing season all around, to enchant the dance of Urvashi*, 
The Earth began to dance too, thinking that Urvashi’s* dance would save the earth,
What a splendid scene it was, which was spreading a magic everywhere on earth,
No one had ever witnessed this beauty and grandeur, 
Neither anywhere in the heaven,   nor anywhere even on earth.

Breathless and motionless they were watching only, 
Under the influence of intoxication, produced by the seasons Goddess Spring,
The last efforts of Urvashi,* to save the earth and all its beautiful creatures. 19

Suddenly a shocking incident took place, shattering the hopes of everyone,
While dancing with Lord Shiva, pride entered into the mind of Urvashi*,
She began to think that she was performing her dance, 
as good as that of Lord Shiva*, and
This thought began to disturb her mind, 
disturbing the coolness of her flawless dance. 20

Watching the seed of pride, sprouted in the mind of Urvashi*.
The Goddess Earth, ‘Dhara’* thought, “Now the destruction is inevitable,”
If not stopped immediately, the seed of pride rising high in Urvashi’s mind,
Could become the cause of Shiva’s rage and the destruction of our Earth and the Universe.

Not only she too would burnt alive in the cosmic heat of Shiva’s third eye*, but 
The whole of this beautiful Earth and the wonderful Universe too would be,
In flames of that cosmic heat and life from this most beautiful planet,
Would vanish forever and forever. 21

A sudden incident took place in that moment, which disturbed the balance of Urvashi,
Urvashi* fell on the ground, while she was at the peak of her divine dance,
Her dance came to a abrupt halt and with that even Shiva’s Tandava* stopped too,
Lord Shiva opened his eyes to see,
What had happened, which forced him to stop his dance suddenly.

Ravindra
Kanpur India 24th Feb. 2011					to continue in 6

Clarifications

Urvashi*  was one of the most beautiful Apsara of the court of Lord Indira of heaven, as
per Hindu mythology. She was a perfect dancer and singer. 

Lord Shiva* is the supreme God of Hindus.

*Tandava Nritya* means Dance of destruction.

Dahra*Hindi word  means earth.

Trinetra*  means The Third Eye of Lord Shiva or which exists in the center of our forehead
Form: Epic


The Utopian One World State

--Evil starts as germinated seeds,
noxious weeds of social infestation,
spreading and suffocating human diversity,
pushing all freedoms into extinction,
the loss of Liberty's creed,,
--Men-Women birth their offspring,
but raised by the State,
alienated offspring grow into bastards,
by design to this fate,
no-longer is Family an understanding,,
--Started in guise of education,
parasitic propaganda by subliminal indoctrination,
targeting children of all ages,
instructing apart from parental objections,
future groupthink masses of inclusion,,
--Religion, History, Novel books outlawed,
that promote ideas of Independence,
instructional manuals that's only allowed,
through State approved media correspondence,
making State approved "truths" unflawed,,
--The masses become Independent-less adults,
in a One World State,
populations regulated, mandated birth controls,
but elitists can freely consummate, 
elitist offspring perpetuates State results,,
--The State espouses universal equality,
a mandate against humanity's will,
a law silencing humanity's opinions,
or voicing your opinions from jail,
the State sees as insanity,,
--Humanity becomes living taxed products,
feeding the machines of State,
their worth is what's produced,
fearing for failing to compensate,
you're redistributed, if you obstruct,,
--Populations are kept under intoxication,
by the State approved vice(s),
the willing are comfortably numb,
happiness of suffrage the price,
humanity's compliance made through addiction,,
--Outlawed are self-governed rights,
by State tyranny without impunity,
your lives owned until death,
because you are State property,
all controlled by elitist might,,
--Physical privacy regarded as hate,
pedo-molestation considered universally normal,
it matters not your sexuality,
to all ages so formal,
criminal when reject this fate,,
--Evil that's made a right,
guilt is replaced with ethics,
fundamental good is considered evil,
by the State centered civics,
moral evil in everyone's sight,,
--This is a living nightmare,
that insidiously penetrates humanity's soul,
a world never knowing Hope,
or escaping something this cruel,
the State of Evil despair,,
--Freedom, Liberty and self-governance,
does this sound that bad?,-
it's better than being property,
by a State grown Mad,
or take a standing chance.
© S.K. Y.  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Rhyme

The Cabaret Girl

In the cabaret hall of the Hotel,
                            the stage was set for her 'Night Show',
                            the hall was lit but not so bright 
                            dim it was and made to look so
                            to give an air of weird intoxication 
                            tables and chairs were arranged
                            for the guests who 'd reserved 
                            to drink and dine and watch the 
                            show of the night 

                            The guests at last arrived 
                            And had occupied their chairs reserved,
                            And the stage was set for the much 
                            awaited cabaret show to take off
                            Suddenly the hall plunged into quietude,
                            The curtains of the cabaret stage went up
                             And there was music pouring  from 
                            a corner of the stage from an orchestra
                            of local repute, and there she appeared
                            the cabaret girl, the star of the night
                            in her shiny glittering robe with feathers
                            round her waist.....and she began to dance
                            soon, the dance of twists and jerks
                            that went as if unstoppable with the 
                            dancing beauty showing apparently 
                            no signs of tiredness, until the clock struck 12 O'CLOCK
                            When suddenly, the lights  went off 
                            and the hall plunged into  darkness and there
                            was a lull, and there appeared a bundle of a
                            focussed stream of light pointing to the
                            girl dancing as she began the last item
                            of the day...'the strip-tease' and she remained
                            devoid of her robes for a few seconds and
                            disappeared into the stage ...........

                             Into the green room, she sank into her
                             couch, a tired and lustreless woman
                             cursing her fate

Stand Up For Our Freedom

I got drunk by my self last night
There was just nothing else to do
I told myself that itll be alright
If I could just get that memory out of sight

My eyes are half closed
From staring down the sun
I’ve been down in the dumps
I’ve had a lot of intoxicating fun

And I’m here to tell you
That life goes on
No matter what happens
No matter how much you hurt come dawn

Remember that hangovers are only temporary
No matter how much they hurt
Sometimes you won’t be able
To have memories of which you revert

The fun is what
Drinking is all about
Remember that yourself
You should never doubt

Instead of drinking in sorrow
And self pity
Get drunk with some girls
Who are kind of pretty

If the good looking ones won’t accompany
In your quest for intoxication
There are always the desperate
In this great nation

Sex is a symbol
Which has made America fine
Naked bodies
So sensually entwined

We are a country 
Now based on rules
Created by the greed
Of those political fools

Our rights shall be taken
With the swiftness of the wind
We will not even know
For our perception has thinned

We no longer appreciate
Our gift to be free
And our forefathers
Would most likely agree

We need to stop and rewind
What has our country came to
I think alteration 
Is far overdue

We need to remember
What the armed forces died for
Now 
More and more

Disgracefully we are becoming
More concerned about police force
What has our country came to?
Shouldn’t we feel at least some remorse?

Pay attention to the news
And you shall see
That this proud country
Is not what it used to be

What have we done?
Is there any way to defend our rights?
There is
You’ve just got to fight

For you must make a stand
This is our home land
We mustn’t have empathy
About this subject at hand

Those who have the power to take action
Have the responsibility to do so
Meaning the tyranny on the horizon
We must overthrow

If we wait too long
We shall face monarchy
Yet rules must be made
For we need not anarchy

Remember what life
Is all about
Freedom is something
We must now bail out

So stand up 
Be proud
And in unity 
Say aloud

We will not fade into the night
We will not
Be taken without a fight

We’ve done it before
We must do it again
Once more our freedom
Calls for our duty to defend
Form: Concrete

The Masnavi of Giti and Saeed - Footnotes and Glossary Part two

Cultural and Social Terms

Idol: In Persian poetry, often refers to the beloved, particularly one who is non-Muslim. The term carries complex connotations of forbidden desire and spiritual challenge.

Veil: Refers both to the physical head covering and the metaphysical veil between the material and spiritual worlds in Sufi thought.

Fate's Wheel: The wheel of fortune or destiny (charkh-e falak), a common motif in Persian literature representing the unpredictable nature of fate.
 
Character Names

Giti: A Persian name meaning "world" or "universe," suggesting the beloved encompasses all existence for the lover.

Saeed: An Arabic name meaning "happy" or "blessed," ironic given the character's suffering in love.


Poetic Devices and Concepts

Ghazal tradition: Though this is a masnavi, it draws heavily from the ghazal (lyric poem) tradition of Persian literature, with its emphasis on unrequited love and spiritual longing.

Tavern: In Sufi poetry, the tavern represents the place of spiritual gathering and divine intoxication, not literal alcohol consumption.

Cup and Wine: The cup represents the heart or soul, while wine represents divine love or spiritual knowledge.

Dawn: Often symbolizes spiritual awakening, hope, or the appearance of the beloved.


Mystical Concepts

Fana: The Sufi concept of self-annihilation or dissolution of the ego in divine love, reflected in the lovers' ultimate union where individual identity dissolves.

Ishq: Divine or passionate love that transcends ordinary human affection, central to Sufi thought and Persian poetry.

Longing (Hijr): The pain of separation from the beloved, considered a necessary stage in spiritual development.
 
Historical Context

Persian Literary Tradition: This work draws from the rich tradition of Persian mystical poetry, including works by Rumi, Hafez, Saadi, and others who used love poetry as a vehicle for spiritual expression.

Courtly Love: The formal, ritualized expression of love that characterized medieval Persian court culture, with its emphasis on patience, suffering, and devotion.
____________________________________
Note: Many terms in Persian mystical poetry carry multiple layers of meaning - literal, romantic, and spiritual - simultaneously. This ambiguity is intentional and central to the tradition's power and enduring appeal.
Form: Prose


Father

I write to you with nothing 

I write to you not knowing who I am in you 
I write to you with just thoughts, ideas of the ideal man 

Dear father I write to you in prayer, with my knees on the floor, in thought and with hands in the air 
Father I sing to you 
I praise you and see your hand everywhere 
Father I write to you with tears and a pain only flesh may bleed to please 
Father I see you seeing us from heaven and in wonder that you have left your son in each of our hearts, leaving us wondering how much we mean as your sons on Earth. 
Father Oh how great thou art, crafted in living 
How much you mean to us. 

Dear loving Father. 
A father who motivates, greatness in morals and being an example 
Dear Father oh how you have molded me in age, vision and in your xyz of principles 
Father I watch you in awe 
Watching your chess moves of living and being the king of our home. 
Tat'omdala indoda which knows to respect and love 
A Father I hope to be, how I mean to be you and walk in your enormous shoes 
How much you mean to us. 

Dear Father who isn't there. 
How much I mourn your presence. 
Dear Father how could you let me hang in a flag of colourless colour as I motivate to motivate being a man. 
Dear Father how much I mean to have seen you hold me and just say four letter. 
Dear Father I write to you with my tears and emptiness 
In my pain of hoping I may finally have someone I look like, who may correct my wrongs 
How much you mean to me. 

Dear selfish Father 
Oh how I hate you 
Dear Father may you be blessed in a terrible sorrow 
Father I write to you hoping you'd just say sorry and not return as it is you I scorn 
Oh father who abused and hit my mother in days of intoxication 
Oh father who never gave me anything, not even a name 
Oh how much your actions of pain have removed the manliness in man 
How much you mean to me 

Dear future fathers. 
May money and pride never seem to appetise you 
Fathers may you be real men who love their daughters and duplicates enough to mold them into real instruments of a better world 
Dear future men, may morals still be applicable to you in spite of all this twerking and foolish deeds 
Dear men I write to you for you to love and honour your wives 
And to continue growing as I honour how much you mean you to me.
© Luwi Titus  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Lyric

Pestlementitis

A crying drunk and tears on my sleeves                                                                                                                             A bleeding heart all over the page                                                                                                                                        So deep and profound                                                                                                                                                       Letting go with the pen                                                                                                                                                                Is this lfe about to end                                                                                                                                                      While another one begins                                                                                                                                                               A writing frenzy spurned on by intoxication                                                                                                                                  The thoughts seem now like putrefaction                                                                                                              Between the self-loathing tear stains smudged in time                                                                                                 Broken thoughts and a half empty pen                                                                                                                                   The readable crapula a very made head ache                                                                                                                        And something scribbled in crayon                                                                                                                                                                 I think not to ever do it again
© John Beam  Create an image from this poem.

I Will Not Be Late To Work This Morning

I will not be late to work today

I will get there on time
I will brush my teeth
Without singing songs
Without thinking about birthdays
About gymnasiums
About TAKS 
About sound
About war
Republicans
Democrats
Independents

I will get there on time
I will eat my oatmeal
Without thinking of 
Broken valentines
Strewn against a wooden
Fence 
Like dropped goblets
From a robbers pillowcase

I will be there before the bell rings
My papers will be checked
My hair will be combed
My mind will be alert 
Ready to begin my lesson

I will not wonder why
My oldest son doesn’t have a job
I will not pray too long
For my daughter who is taking the bar today
At 10:30 AM in New Orleans
I will not scar my knees wishing
For some alternate world
Where children are never neglected
Or hurt
Where there is no abandonment

What nonsense to try and order the world
Just get to work on time
Put your things in the car, your projector and 
The white binders that you didn’t look at
All weekend although you were supposed to check the papers and put the 
grades on the computer
I will leave now
Before it is impossible to
Be on time
I will cream my ashy ankles

I will not focus on the white
Cat on the black pillow
With the green eyes
I will not water the plant
I will not watch TV
I will not write poetry
Before work

I will not write poetry
Before work
I will get to work on time
I will be ready
I will not be daydreaming about fog
Wondering if I’ll get Alzheimer’s like my mother
Or colon cancer like my dad
I won’t be thinking about that stuff
I will be locking the front door and 
Closing the gate and clicking the clicker
And starting the car and leaving

I will not be in my living room
Wondering if there is any reason to love
Because I do not love for reason
I love because He first loved me
It is not incantations or intoxication
Or imagination it is my life and 
The structure will come with the
Clearness of Bajan water
So clear you can see the fish
Fly float across the Atlantic

It is time
This poem must end
I will not be late for work
This morning
Not for nothing
Not for nobody
Not for anything
Not for everything

This poem is over 
the work day begins

The Four Letter Word

Four letters put together to create one word,
with an impeccable definition.

Love...,
It is a strong word,
Close to the heart, yet
far from the woman you Love.

Butterflies flying, flapping their
orange and white wings in the summer heat.
The butterflies flap, flap their beautiful wings
together in the summertime of Love.

For Love is beautiful, like the summer preludes!

Four letters composed, to a Chopin's masterpiece.
The Romantic pole reaches out, to touch, to hold, to Love.

For these four letters are easy to read
and put together to create a complex concept
with a universal definition.
A four letter word, easy just to say,
but it is harder to show.
For Love is a simple word made up of simple letters,
but a complex meaing that takes most lifetimes to comprehend
and others a short while.

For I've seen hearts broken
and hearts put back together,
with this simple word.
My heart burned, brused, stabbed
knows the dangers of this simple, four letter word.

Love, some think it is a game
to play when you are bored.
Destroying self-esteem of girls,
who are already weak and nieve.
They long for love, but find surrealist dreams,
and see the Man of their dreams slip away in the night.
Gone without a trace.
While she is sucked into false promises,
from simple minded boys,
with only one thing on their mind.

Love..., it is a joke to some.
"I love you," is a laughing stock,
while a slap in the face, and disrespect is in fashion.
Girls, foolish girls walking in lonesome heartbreak,
saying they are in Love.
It is sad to see, and hard to hear, I know it is.

And to me Love is sometimes fair,
and most times a cruel joke.
Love, this four letter word is simple to say, but hard to comprehend.

Love me and I shall take you by the hand
show you caves of mystery,
and skies of grace and meadows, filled with flowers,
dedicated just for you, no one else, but you.
We can make Love on the sandy beaches, under the moonlit sky
under the still stars and shooting ones too.
Have a romantic dinner of oyster-shells and champange and kiss each other,
till we drown in intoxication and fall asleep in each others arms.

huh, Love... A simple, four letter word, that is easy to say,
but even harder to show.

Premium Member Flirtatious Moon

Just outside the window
    a row of coned shaped trees bend their foolish heads
                                                       for her attention...
She can have her way with them...
   yet, with such a wily nature, she passes over them,
      and softly treads a path through the garden gate...
Her steps are light as dew, making not a sound...
           as she hesitates to wake a slumbering rose...
                              and timidly brushes past a trellis of sleeping morning glories...

She peeks in, then slowly slithers through his open window, while he lies sleeping....
The angle of her glance makes his closed eyes flutter...
                                                                and he smiles....
Her appearance casts shadows on the far wall, as she stares across the room at him
    She tarries for a moment
    A reflected image on the mirror spreads her silken white cloth...
    He feels her move over him...
    He is kissed by this welcome intruder, ...hypnotized by her charm, and her cool breath...
Dazzled by this embrace, he tosses the quilt, in restless dream....
    She caresses so softly, filling his heart, and making him sigh...
    He basks in her love, and lies in sweet gratitude in his sleepy state
                                                   enraptured with sweet contentment
    Soaking up and drunk with the intoxication of her shine

Outside, a lonely eucalyptus tree is jealous...
    Impatient and longing to feel such affection....
           It's branches clamor against the glass, hoping to break her spell on him...

But, woefully....
    angry clouds intrude to steal away the moment...
She runs and hides!

No longer does he feel the kiss,...the sweet lunar incandescence of her breath...
     The seduction of her glow...
Coolness and disappointment envelop him as darkness returns again...

And he is once again alone in the shadows of the dark
    He must pull his blanket up, and dream of other lovers..... 


------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
For Dr. Ram Mehta's contest..."Luna... Goddess of the Moon"

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