Long Narrow minded Poems
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A Texan rancher Samuel Maverick,
Who never his calves and cattle branded,
That caused to create the word maverick—
An eccentric rebel born of cow shed!
Now, before the word breached its national,
Borders it meant ‘all cattle unbranded’,
And before that, ‘one unconventional’,
Mutating still: ‘master-less quadruped’.
Today, hidebound means man narrow-minded,
Long back it meant skinny cattle of drought,
Bare to bones and ribs all but sticking out,
Hidebound is man parochial, pettyhead!
Holy cow’, one may say to interject,
It oft means a ‘sacred cow’ one can’t touch,
You so much as just touch and get hit, ouch!
Elsewhere it may amount to mixing fact.
The word ‘cow’ comes from Sanskrit ‘gau’,
Comes cattle from Latin chattel—
Movable wealth French calls capitale,
Everywhere it is holier than thou!
To migrants then, cattle was sole money,
In Roman language , money is ‘Pecu’
From Indo Aryan Sanskrit word ‘pashu’,
From it came in English: pecuniary!
Words respect no boundary line,
As do birds and religion and music,
Only man’s busy borders to define;
To change maybe we need a maverick.
_____________________________________
Ways of words | 03.10.2009 |
*I Will Cry*
If this world really mattered,
Why does it bleed?
I could tell you how much I love you,
But, that will never heal the pain.
I am never at peace.
Every day I cry for grace.
Every day my tears engrave a large hole.
A rich perfume redolent of rain-
-the only stain in my soul.
What has become of the sun?
Where have all the stars gone?
I am a sinner!
A tapper on the roof,
I fell without angel wings!
A small ripple that splashed into the pavement crack.
I couldn't be saved!
I am a lonely bard
I have no song to sing.
This empty ballad is my home.
A feathers against the dying wind-
-my only expression.
I will cry'
Raindrops from the sky.
Tears from a simple narrow-minded girl,
Water wept into this sorrowful world.
I will cry’
A view you can’t erase,
A window you can’t shut;
Tears you can't brush.
I will cry'
A river that flows into the night of days.
I will cry'
like a child, and nobody can take that away.
I will cry- once more...
No one will ever care,
That I cried!
PS..... Please remember the smell of earth after rain.
by;PD
You come across humble but I don’t buy it
a martyr? unlikely I suppose
voice opinions turns fights to riots
Why my way do you oppose
Hear the martyr speak
Preaching preaching
This way that way a poet must be
Teaching teaching
through poetry
a perfect vision found in ideology
A divine message for you and me
Their perfect way
they’re perfect aye
friction friction in those they oppose
the way the problems arose
Martyr martyr knows more than all
Martyr martyr so wonderful
Martyr martyr oh so humble
Martyr martyr riot starter
Martyr martyr be politer
Martyr martyr bigot bigot
Martyr martyr stop being a pillock
preacher preacher bigot bigot
look a bit deeper you will find it
not a martyr narrow minded
Martyr Martyr problem starter,
avoid the violence preach in silence
This one is mine, that one is thine,
Be a narrow-minded man’s sign.
To him whose heart is huge as sea,
All world is but one family.
______________________
Translation |13.09.2024| world, family
Poet’s note: Sanskrit has thousands of verses of wisdom called Subhaashhitam. This one is taken from my selection of translations. The poet observes that those that are narrow minded, indulge in thinking like: this is mine and that is thine. To large-hearted however, ‘world is one family’. The transliteration of the Sanskrit verse follows:
Ayam nija parah vetti, gananaa laghu chetasaam |
Udaara charitaanaam tu, vasudhaa eva kutumbakam || Hitopadesha||
In the realm of hidden things;
contemplated revelations ring.
To bring the light; a hearts delight
and clear away, the darkest night.
Whispers from our unseen friends,
where wisdom's growing, till life ends.
The soul, it is a breath of God;
divinity comes, when towards heaven, we trod.
In dreams and meditation we can see,
the end of every action, that will be.
Good or bad, mistakes will teach,
the learning soul, how far to reach.
The highs and lows, where souls must go;
are taught to us as we all grow.
In silent focus, secrets rise;
blessing oh, so many lives.
All those who seek, the truth and light;
are often gifted with, second sight.
Use it well and you will see,
life’s an enriched, reality.
In quantum realms, unraveled dreams;
morph into, eternal streams.
Angelic music, fills the air and
lifts the soul, above its cares.
The researcher, whom does learn these things;
whom applies them to, their earthly schemes;
Can build a world of miracles,
despite the narrow-minded wills.
If divinity is what you seek,
listen when the angels speak.
The lessons learned, from divine guests;
will help you master every test.
Why throw away, the wealth we’re given;
when on Earth, we could have Heaven?
If we could just have faith and believe;
miracles would lead, to lives of ease.
Open the door and go within;
live peacefully, with all your kin.
Snow is white
He was born in a rather narrow-minded town that had
strict rules for acceptable behaviour, no bars, no restaurant
serving alcohol and no public display of affection.
A Muslim scholar who came to this town by navigational
error, left in a hush, claiming the city was too Pakistani
Houses were painted white, or very light yellow no other
colours were allowed, a rebel, a communist painted his
house red, the law came down hard on him, said his house
was a fire hazard,
had to paint white over the red that made his dwelling look
like a diabetic ulcer.
When new people bought the house, they scrapped off
the old colour painted the house brilliantly white, only to
discover “white” was no longer a favourite colour.
Any colour would do but white.
Books and articles were written about how terrible the whites
500 years ago, were, colonizing nonwhite countries behaving
cruelly statues of that time were thrown into the sea, great noise
from the righteous people of the day.
The whites took to hating themselves in winter use self-tanning
cream and in summers sat so long time on the beach they got
wrinkled skin and cancers.
But not despair everything is in transition, like men who feel
like women cut off their es and wear frocks only to discover
nothing had been wrong with them, just being gay.
Too late for them, you might say, but it is also too late for us as
we gladly walk down the path in an oblivious haze towards
the bleaching of the bones.
Multinational economic and political and religious leaders,
parents and teachers,
repent!
Do not over-invest in exploiting the weakness of outsiders,
but nurture our cooperative strengths
when we only have insiders
with diverse strengths and weaknesses.
We don't need more lessons
on how and why and when and where
to be good entrepreneurial capitalists
playing WinLose self-redemption games
of false autonomy
and perilous short-term thinking
and narrow-minded planning.
We do need more WinWin cooperative lessons
mentors
games
processes that progress polyculturing regenerativity,
how and why and when and where
to listen to and mindfully grasp
good and healthy and beautiful cooperative wealth
of truth and trust in globally inclusive democracy
of ownership
through co-subsidiary solidarity,
integrity of Earth's self-governing abundance,
grace of nutritional forests,
karma of tidal rivers,
love of co-passion,
kindness of not unkindness,
contentment of positive content,
happiness through wu wei balance,
health of Tipping point harmonics.
Repent not with lamentation
but by reweaving celebration.
What was the original multinational corporation,
economic,
political,
religious?
Christianity spread for faith investment reasons
rather than competing disinvestment treasons.
Faith spreading virally through creolizing cooperations
and bad faith through demonizing fear and anger-mongering.
Messiahs arrive to turn matriarchal Earth upside down.
Not more patriarchal WinLose invasion
past its post-millennial time,
but more WinWin reverse-hierarchical
self-investing bilateral persuasion.
Golden Rules
apply to mega-corporations
remembering communion with Earth's paradise promise.
Then less need to worry
fret and stew
criminalize and demonize
with Rusty Cruels.
Messiahs,
small through megalogical co-mentors,
win through vulnerable weaknesses
of egocentric death
investing increase as eco-centric healthy life.
We are all looking for the one thing to inspire
We are all on the same path, different stops waiting for the universe to conspire
embedded in our souls from the birth of our understanding
The want, the wish to be great, self-made breathing exorbitantly in our surrounding
The mistake we make is living in other people’s values
So we strain ourselves, give up our dreams and put up the same statues
Our individuality becomes transparent and we become programmed with the rest of society
Lost are the adventures so incredibly needed, packed away is our variety
We are all unique yet the same
The same yet different levels of the game
We need to climb out of the narrow minded cardboard box
Instead of being what’s expected, be the exception, don’t be the sheep choose the fox
I see my life like a black and white photograph
So much detail, it’s all about the experience instead of living by the graph
I choose the inspired path, I need to live instead of exist
I will run instead of walk, fight for the thrill and search for the experience, always I shall insist.
Stand on the edge with me and tell me the magnificence your eyes bestow
Fee the adventure and thrill sweep through your being as through your hair the wind blows
So the choice is yours, live in the box and follow the tiresome trends
Or throw away the I musts and give in to the I want to’s be the definition and decide where it ends
American cheese, if you please
Not Taiwanese or Japanese
Nothing Maltese or Vietnamese
American cheese, if you please
You say I must try Swiss Cheese
Lebanese and Nepalese
At Chanukah, ‘Monterey of Maccabees’
Farvoss?* American cheese, if you please *'What for?' (Yiddish)
But surely you’ll take a bite of Siamese
Portuguese, Pekinese or Paraguese
And how can you neglect Senegalese and Congolese
Not now. If you please, American cheese
Is our diner a narrow-minded provincial
Nisht!** ~ she’s old, a Jewish immigrant NYC election official **No! Not! (Yiddish)
Of some mad American empire
were Angels rage in the suicidal age
Of TV stars and failed billionaires
Upstart demagogues tyrannical
Wanta-bes who rule with lies on knees of glass
And feet of tin, and rings of fools-gold
tiny fists bleed tiny tears Infamy
Schemes with in schemes
Orange rage racism raw ragged
and blasphemy of science
idolize idiocracy
A mad American empire teetering on oblivion
In TVs and multimedia social society
Of Markets and networking divisions
Evangelist blind screaming for an idol falsely
Bluebirds flutter flocks like ravens
A murder of crows Die in the lite of truth
The truth is a matter of opinion obsession
False diversions a fractured nation
A false god a false profit beloved by narrow-minded illiterate ill-rational idiots
Idolize inept and ignorant orange
God, a false divinity
Raging lies in tin crowns
an overgrown tyrant
a little king without armor
a fool With bloody hands
smeared mascara eyeliner drowned
Blood and horror a mad American empire
were Angels rage suicidal age
Of faded TV stars gluttonous billionaires
Upstart demagogues
tyrannical nights of thousand lights
Mega-phone preacher of a new order
Make America some mad empire
Wanta-bes who rule
with lies and tyrannical deeds
knees of glass bleed oil orange fire
feet of glass things of fools-gold
Tiny fists clutch paper crowns
tiny tears Infamy a crocodiles lear
Schemes within and schemes without
rape of queens, dreamers teetering on oblivion
orange racism ragged raw
wall falls halls echo lies and false fantasies
blasphemy of science, idiocracy , supremacy
Drooling fools, magaits burrow in
Some mad American empire...