Long Pile up Poems
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Further qualities of the King* the THIRUK-KURAL lauds: IRAMAADTCHI - Canto 39, K381 and K382
[*modern-day "kings": presidents, prime and chief ministers, governors, dictators and the like; K381 & K382 have already been posted.]
K383: thuungkaamai kalvi thunivudaimai immuuntrum
niingkaa nilanaal pavarkku
A sleepless promptitude, knowledge, decision strong:
These three for aye [sic] to rulers of the land belong. (Transl. G.U. Pope)
These three things, viz., vigilance, learning, and bravery, should never be wanting in the ruler of the country. (Transl. Drew & Lazarus)
Not being lulled to sleep, always acquiring knowledge and fearlessly assuming the lead - these three qualities crown the king of a country. (Transl. T. Wignesan)
K384: aranilukkaathu allavai* niikki
maran*ilukkaa maanam* udaiyathu arasu
[* "allavai" = sins, evils, unreal things; "maran" = bravery; "maanam" = honour]
Kingship, in virtue failing not, all vice restrains,
In courage failing not, it honour's grace maintains. (Transl. G.U. Pope)
He is a king who, with manly modesty, swerves not from virtue, and refrains from vice. (Transl. Drew & Lazarus)
Always virtuous, eschewing evil, heroic in deed and honour-bound - of such mettle the sovereign should be.* (Transl. T. Wignesan)
[* Which leader in our world embodies the dictates (and constraints) in this maxim? One often goes to war for seemingly righteous causes, sacrificing foot-soldier lives in order to fill some "cartel's" private coffers; or one might endeavour to boost the growth rate by half a dozen % points only to draw the polar ice-caps down on our children's heads and throats; one might build the finest sky-scrapers of the future megalopolises on the slave-wages of indentured immigrant labour only to deprive them of human rights in the name of the Supreme Creator; one might nonchalantly let city-centres choke in the fumes of carbon monoxide and let human excreta pile up on the roadsides in the name of cultural and spiritual enhancement through the pomp of rallies and manifestations on a grand scale and for what? - to keep the soul purified? - while the "kings" of spiritual development rely still on the divine right to rule the poor bugger down below, conditioned by words from the cradle! ] T. Wignesan, June 29, 2017
© T. Wignesan - Paris, 2017
In a small café, customers stream through the door. I jot down orders that pile up as I wonder what’s happening in the back kitchen. The patrons are looking more and more displeased. I scurry table to table filling glasses running endlessly dry and simultaneously noticing the increasing number of empty napkin holders. Where’s the manager? Why is there nobody here but me? The order slips are almost gone. And now plates of food begin appearing in the back so quickly that I cannot recall to which table each one goes. I’m running and running, the proverbial dumb chicken but with its head still attached and throbbing! I hear the clamor of “Where’s our meal?” and more people keep entering through the door.
Now I find myself in a plain white-walled classroom of my school. The clock on the wall ticks on and on as students trickle through the door. Students sit staring as I search a pile of papers for the attendance sheet. The papers fall and I just know my lesson plan is lost among the scattered sheets. I bend to pick them up and my brain is a fog. What am I to teach? I sift through the disarray as ticking seconds become minutes, and a silence pierces me as I view the stony faces before me. I try to mouth words, but they simply won’t come. I can almost feel the fidgeting of the students as my upper lip begins to twitch. I know they are thinking me an imbecile. As I stand dumb stricken, time is fleeing, and more students are entering the room. . . . .
I awaken to the loud incessant ticking of the clock beside my bed. I’ll rise to greet my day, get into my car and meld with a stream of other people driving to their everyday jobs. There will be days that I encounter the cheerless or dissatisfied faces of strangers or even of family and friends. There will be times that I hasten frantically, feeling all is futile as bills pile up or work overwhelms me, and there are sure to be times when I will feel at an utter loss as I live vicariously the nightmarish woes which sometimes my husband must confront. How grateful I am for ordinary days whose hours of normalcy are heaven compared to the mind boggling misery endured throughout this world. And how thankful I am for ordinary days that greatly outnumber a few awful dreams!
My dear Siblings,
I voted for Hillary.
I would have preferred Bernie,
but she agreed to much of his platform-especially universal health care and education and seemed to be cognizant of environmental/climate change issues and bonus--she's a woman!
How I feel now? I am still haunted by the sound of my millennial son as he stood in the shower the morning after the election,
sobbing,
grief stricken,
mourning the loss of freedom and safety for many of his friends of different races,
nationalities,
sexual identities
and religions.
I am both immensely proud of him and fear for him
when I remember him coming out of the bathroom after that gut wrenching and utterly hopeless outpouring of tears.
He wore the look of a young man going off to war
and declared his allegiance and his personal protection to all those now named targets of hatred.
I'm not sure that I would have the courage to be a millennial now.
I recently watched about 20 snapping turtle hatchlings emerge, one by one, from a small hole in the sand bank above the pond and embark on a hilarious topsy-turvey tumble down the embankment and disappear into the dark stillness under the lush green vegetation of the shallow water.
Along the way some of them appeared to die.
At one point, the lifeless forms were starting to pile up near the exit hole of the nest and I feared for those still waiting for their turn to feel the sunlight on their faces.
What amazed me was to see how these little creatures responded to each other.
One would walk right over the top or lightly brush up against the side of an apparently dead sibling
and suddenly they were moving along together.
I imagined one saying to the other,
"Come on. You can do it. Don't stop now."
or maybe "I'll race you",
like I used to say to Jeremy when I wanted him to move faster.
I was relieved and very satisfied when the last one slipped into the pond;
a proud midwife.
I can only hope that the extreme disregard for the Earth and all her creatures,
including human beings,
that is spewing out of our political system and corporations
will incite all of us to a new way of being;
to getting everybody to the pond.
Lovingly,
Kerry
This question drives me up and down the walls
I know for certain that God has answered my calls
I can’t hang up on Him…He’s so brilliant
And I’m so little compared to Him…
Maybe I’m little in size and very insignificant compared to the most High
He gives me quite a natural high
He brings me back home and kisses me good night
Without His love, I’d be lost like a sheep losing his shepherd
I feel like I’m separated to God
As if God and I are on both sides of the coin…
Our oceans don’t collide with each other,
But He does make huge tidal waves…
And I make baby waves that swerve up and down
Like a wave’s movement, my life seems to have its low points and high points
But, when I build enough energy, I glide higher than the clouds
Though, unfortunately, I’ve only been dreaming this
Then, I collapse into the sand...my face rubs against it and I have scrapes all over
Sand and water do mix well, but afterwards, the sea shore’s weight will pile up on the bottom of the ocean floor
I can’t imagine how many grains of sand there are on Earth
There are countless amounts of ants on Earth as well
Trillions and trillions of them are in existence
It’s amazing how plants take in Carbon Dioxide
And we breathe in oxygen…
God is a fantastic creator and He did carve His creations pretty well
God saw my distress and He healed me
When I think about Him, I’m speechless and can’t say much
He’s made out of love and He bubbles me up with excitement
I haven’t given Him the credit of working miracles in my life…
But, I don’t want to divorce God…I must propose to Him like a wife
Does to her husband…I want to submit to Him
He made the sunset, the moon and stars
Look! He even made the planets and He healed our scars
He made the flowers, the roses and the creeping bugs
Look! He even made leaves for our eyes to see…
He made the change of seasons
God saw my distress and healed me
God made the wild cats, bears, reptiles
He made us have a brain that is as neat as black and white tiles
God healed me…and I’m simply glad He did so
God wiped out my distress…and He simply dressed me with happiness and He’s in high spirits to see me grow
~ Inspired by the band of Evanescence’s song: Never Go Back
~ God inspired me to write this poem…
The chick grows to puberty hearing the sound of surfs as a lullaby,
returning waves as rocking cradle, fed by passing clouds and drank
of fogs. He learned: how to fly friend with wind, flow of time following the sun and moon, and direction through stars of constellations. And about the time when flock of birds returns
to this isle after long absence from the isle to avoid harsh and cold winter, the bird, flapping his huge wings, soared higher and higher to the endless deep sky.
After such, time had passed and autumn, again, returns to this isle,
all birds abandon it and flies away as before. And when all the birds left, raging bellows, deep fogs, torrential rain, high wind, thunders and lightening punish this little isle once again, the gigantic bird flies over and lands on this top cliff, then, he sits on the nest where his mother’s burnt bones still remain. He cries sorrowfully vomiting blood, while gathering and holding mother’s remains in his wide breast.
During the circle of days and nights, when the bird sees rays come from peeking sun between crevices of thickened cloud, he soars high to reach the sun, pecks a piece and brings it back to the nest and
covers mother’s remains with it.
He repeats this act as long as the sun is in the sky. After so much folds of sun-ray, he goes back and forth restlessly watching radiance floating atop of pathetic mother. When the weather turns worse as before, the bird covers mother with his broad breast.
After so much of those stormy weathers and occasional sunshine
pile up, spring approaches to this isle, and when such time comes, waters return to tranquility that of calm of primitive day. And in this absolute stillness, moon rises to die everything from sky to sea, to the color of dark-blue. And in this dark-blue stillness, the son-bird carries mother bird, which is resurrected as dark shadow on his back and flies away to the moon, to the sky, to the farthest dark-blue sea.
After the son-bird has flown away carrying mother bird on his back, though heap of suns became highest mountain, heap of moons became deepest sea, it was so told, these birds having once flown away never return to this little islet.
images are slow to fade, where did they go? why were they here?
pensive pen and ink, a gentle man of measure
pipe-smoke wafting cool blue persevering pleasure
cartoon humour designed with careful modest pride
arm-in-arm soothing his war-time petulant bride
oft-wiped canvas, woodland, moody misty scene
roaming through pale paintings where her lost man has been
merging ever always their special being; are they still near?
old parental faces time-spun and woven under my skin
memories upon memories, changing I, changing me
stories upon stories pile up, changing they, changing we
falsehood flailing, transition, turbulent knowing
transcendence, my mind, your mind, all minds are growing
we are mid-paced sampled brethren, thinking anew
significance in what we say and what we do
personalities on kindred journeys beyond kith and kin
kick string-strung corporeal cans down the celestial street
where the multi-dimensional membranes quiver
where energy swims across the quantum river
where slow light-speed traverses the nebula face
where superpositions collapse with certain grace
where fine bits of information feedback feeling
where negentropy out-runs chaotic dealing
pick soulful sounding song, counter-rhythmic orchestral beat
sprung from the fundament, nothing always trumped by something
prime numbers inflate unfolding untold troubles
universal endurance, containment bubbles
pushing, pulling fields, filaments of flexing shape
veils warp and wrap around a wily cosmo-scape
intelligent infant guises, gaining in-sight
impressions crossing chasms to inform the night
lives on holographic film, many melodies to sing
I hear them now, voices blending the chords of man and wife
I feel their presence, though they are forever changed
I know they are transformed, molecules rearranged
I share their warm substance, two people that mattered
I care for their essence, they will not be scattered
I record them in words, the library of thoughts
I sense they are near and far, few and many noughts
I am listening out for them on the other side of life
The din of darkness,
The cacophony of impostors,
The symphony of ignorance,
The decadence of progress,
Colonial heritage,
The empire of the pharaohs,
The agony of the pyramids,
The ordeal of free men,
The heat of infernal furnaces,
The burden of ancestral tortures,
The cradle of humanities chained to hatred,
The lament of immemorial torments,
The tale of forgotten shadows,
The macabre mass of intertwined destinies,
The accelerated decrepitude of fallen hopes,
The stigmata engraved on the parchment of time,
The funeral howls of a persistent memory,
The sepulchral embrace of an eternal night,
The tumult of trials in the scars of history,
The flashes of an untamed reality,
The epic of souls thirsting for redemption.
Proselytes and orators with fiery ideologies are ready to spark a conflict whose repercussions could shake the very foundations of society.
Land of asylum, sanctuary of xenophobes,
Doors of the chapels of drug addiction,
The reconquest of frustrated nostalgics,
The liberation of supremacist rantings,
The silence of the proletarians,
The promotion of social inequalities,
If monotheism were of divine essence,
Racism, slavery and colonization
Were not going to be sanctified,
In their so-called holy rags.
The conspirators demonize the plots of the marginalized,
The manipulators have an army of fanatical parrots,
The future of the earth is punctuated by catastrophes,
These madmen are already exploring the stars,
There will never be peace on this cursed planet,
The rich need the chaos generated,
Through war, misery, corruption and plunder,
The tombstones pile up,
Taciturn spectators of human tragedy, erected in a landscape devastated by the ravages of ephemeral power and limitless greed.
Political extremists and religious fanatics
Preparing for the final confrontation,
Africa will be the next global battlefield,
Sub-Saharans think they are escaping the horrors of poverty,
By crossing the Sahara on foot and swimming the Mediterranean,
While the multinationals of the new world order take advantage to plunder the natural resources of their subsoil.
Call me the Duke of Silence,
I resonate with the six elders at the Gala.
I would rather commend a madman for saving a cat,
Than applaud politicians in SUVs,
Wearing first-class Royce,
While we suffer in harsh economic downfall.
Renaissance is my diploma,
I’ve come to see through all peers,
Shady thoughts and unclear actions.
Living is now a matter of,
“What do you bring to the table?”
Youthful pride in contrast to,
“Why should I answer that?”
Suffering childhood memories,
Seems to be the best phase of my life.
Would I wake up to be given stacks of duty to perform,
And still shine a smile in doing it?
Yet in my heyday, I languish.
I’m in a state of life,
Where I witness everything,
And I’m a vessel of secrets,
But I would never speak.
Should I die in it,
So be it, and lead me to misfortune,
For I was conceived in a stained world.
I want to be there with you,
But I ask, do you want to be there with me?
Put all that away and see my happiness.
I wonder if there is any love for me,
Seeking it but afraid to confront it.
The lips that uttered such three words,
And planted seeds of hope in me,
Have left me shattered because of,
The previous question.
Down to earth, I weep, “I’m innocent.”
I’m an African child raised to hate my people,
But like to carry a gun.
Imprinted ink on paper seems to carry more value,
Than a life carried for nine months with pains.
The war has just begun. Vanguard!
I’m not here to tell a love story.
I want to be reborn,
Reborn in a world of truth and honesty,
And sometimes wish I was never there.
There are dark souls seeking freedom,
From the pandemic we have placed on ourselves called the human race.
All these days on Earth have,
Made me pile up a lot of experience,
That I’m sure can be a safe place to ponder. Safe Haven.
Drich would be there for everyone,
But everyone would be there for everyone,
If you know what it means.
A new world awaits me. I know.
It's beautiful to live,
But it's dreadful to live outside and die inside.
Within, you know there is a graveyard,
For you have sacrificed a lot for your peers.
Now all I see is black and white.
I wonder....you know!
Hopes of being found
Earth starts to dim
You feel the frosty ground
feeling the effects
As Darkness grows all around
The whole reign over man.
So she ran!
Not knowing the directions
Going in circles all over again
They call it love
I see repetition
The illusion she's caught up in,
Deception is her only friend
Sinking deep in the pit
But she won't find gold
Just dirt that will go along with her white skirt
Now she finally understand physics
Seeing herself fall
The devil laughs,
whispering in her ear,
"you not alone"
Not knowing she's one with everyone,
Thinking about the outcomes
Trapped deep in the game
Nobody hears anyone
Just that we spin in circles like we could spin otherwise,
Lies pile up
Lies build up
Lies created us,
So its all a manufactured lie
From love to hate and how imitate,
The curse of millennium
So we just look forward
Like we going somewhere,
Truth, is their is no truth
Like water trapped in ice
But we don't see ice as water
Like nothing in the air but it holds us,
Gravity is the gratitude of life
Darkness is all around
So we use pain to see
What we feel now!
Will see tomorrow!
Its Déjàvu the way we all feel
Its voodoo the media
Using idols to kill our images
So they can create new breeds
Molded into their own image
The brands, They go by role models
Yes it's an act and life is the movie that never ends.
We all stars
We all will shine
We all will go away some time
Perish, prior to the damage
I'm strange!
I'm weird!
Cause i don't think the norm
Just brainstorming about the future
I don't know whether I'm right or wrong
Just that I'm reigning,
Grasping my dreams
Lucid be how i see,
If i play my cards right the State will win like they always do,
And I'll be portrayed as the villain
The out cast if lucky not a terrorist
Dragged out of my home, dragged to the streets for not paying taxes
Damn! State wins this gamble again.
The illusions of having
How it gets to me
But i never see the tracks
So i play tapes, rewinding life
Going in circles all over again
Damn, the love potion.
You have been living a double life masquerading with two wives; you have been living a double life with man and woman as your wife.
You have not expressed this in public but everyone can see it in your eyes and watch it trembling on your lips. They say that action speaks louder than words and you must always remember this anywhere you go. The ceiling is above your head, and the rocket will launch exactly from your bed.
This town is like a crown and the vibration can be felt all around, from the petrol station to the hardware shop you cannot resist the irony when you go out to shop. This is the best of television I have ever seen for everyone that is embracing this literary dream, it is amusing, it’s confusing but it is entertaining.
Go to the top of the roof and look all around you; everyone is going somewhere but they are not actually going anywhere. Look at their faces and read deep beneath the lines and you will see the age long sacrifice.
Their stories are buried beneath their tongue and the truth is burning their gums.
The big trucks are rolling down the road with goods pile up on top; they are carrying a heavy load, and they are going where destiny is bound. The cars are rolling slowly behind them and everything seemed to be on schedule, good planning and organizing will get you on track just in time to experience the new wonders that have embraced this town.
The demagogues are running around the town with a familiar argument that is out of touch with the general public and a venomous pitch that is dripping from their lips. The music is not quite in tune with the happening that will preside at noon. You have to search out the contrary strings and re-arrange the demagogues before they sing.
You have been living a double life and making me pay for all those sacrifice, clips on wings, buttons and belts and colorful flags hoisted in the air ushering a passionate atmosphere far and near.
It is stirring up the heat and disrupting my heart beat, but it keeps my emotional friend in tune. I have fought hard and long to maintain my song, the cup is full but I must keep riding on.