Long Purblind Poems
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The guiles of spiders are designed to fetch
Life-support prey seldom of an own kind.
If wild cats hunt, it’s only food to find--
What ye call beasts, in heart hate never hatch,
Nor in hostility the hunted catch
And only kill to fill a hungry maw
In a highly held un-writ wildlife law:
Slay to survive or get slain if no match,
Knowing not else but do just as designed,
Unlike O men hunting’s thy pass-time game,
A trophy wall-mounted in flashy frame,
Purblind, heedless, ye alone hunt own kind
Thus, crowning thee as lord of death in shame
Ye write a tale of thy blood-be-soaked name.
______________________________
Musings | 08.11.2012/revised July 2026 | beast, kill, joy, men, wild, Sonnet
Note: And I am tempted to add two more sonnet endings:
To call it sport that goes to fetch thy end
In slaying lives on whom thine own depend.
Till one day Earth twirls inverted thy claim,
And he who thought him hunter turneth game.
‘babes you need UV protection’
from top to tail and midsection
‘I’m African don’t be daft’
quite insulted she laughed
a masterpiece of self deception
but the tan worshipper in Cape Town
decided her skin must get more brown
took a book to sun
but it was ’Shantaram’
now she got blisters and a burnt frown
the sequel is called ‘Mountain Shadow’
900 pages to become quite aglow
thought she reflected her lesson
from scripted obsession
and consumed part two in the snow
she became frosted in flakes and purblind
‘babes some advice if you don’t mind’
the book has dangerous thickness
and then there is altitude sickness
Mount Kilimanjaro can be unkind
now she reads reclined in the boudoir
fact fiction fantasy and mysterious lore
Hawaiian tropic neath pajamas on cutis
sun shades and bedsores on gluteus
and wonders what else reading has in store
should she try with fins snorkel and mask
but corals sting and sharks have a blast
a most unappealing notion
why not apply sun lotion
and make misconception a thing of the past
14th June 2020
a true story and part of the family legend
Oh, you do not want to know my tale,
But since you insist, I guess I'll just tell,
Originally from mystical India -- not Rome!
Some 30 years ago made the USA my home,
I revere Jesus, Muhammad, Buddha, Krishna
But keep my faith in love, peace and karma,
I read Shakespeare, Longfellow, Poe, Keats,
Omar Khayyam, Frost, Tennyson and Yeats,
Besides poetry and movies, I love to love
Books, traveling and fair ladies in drove,
Sometimes I blow hot, sometimes cold
And venture out to buy stuffs already sold,
I am like Don Quixote, at times like Rip Van Winkle
Sometimes Ebenezer Scrooge, at times Kris Kringle.
Balding, with a paunch, but I think young
There's not a passionate song I haven't sung,
Pensive, moody and mostly quiet
But when I talk, I usually am right,
Couldn't walk good with my bad knees
But I dance with butterflies and bees,
Purblind, yet I have seen places umpteen
I daydream a lot, you know what I mean?
Born in June, by nature I am sunny
And if I so wish, I can be quite funny,
But you wouldn't want to mess with me
I can be swift and lethal like Bruce Lee!
I am writing this jestfully but it's serious,
Ha now, don't go get nosy or too curious!
"Bio of Poet" contest by Tammy Reams
To say hello to spring
Winter relents in time,
Grey goes green, smiles gream grime,
Nature knows— not to cling.
Seasons change on their own
And wait not till too late
To kiss change on due date,
All things change, even stone.
But man seems stuck sans clue,
Feels frozen facing change,
Red nor green, but orange!
He who once walked on two
From all four, far to see
As ape— his greatest feat,
Yet, somewhere lost his wit,
Opting purblind to be.
In saying no to change,
An existential threat
That might wipe out his fate,
Back to times of Stonehenge!
_____________________________
Reflections | 06.09.2016, revised Feb 2023| change
Poet’s note: In evolutionary race when man was not yet a *****Sapiens, he showed an exemplary foresight to steer himself ahead of all life forms, on top of pyramid to be, and never to look back ever since— the time he, as an ape, decided to walk on his rear two legs. But today it seems he chooses to be purblind, refusing to see the threat to his existence. This piece wonders if man is on his way back to Stonehenge.
i life
Reflections in the mirror increase resentment.
Tarnished heart pursues vengeful contentment
Disillusioned, you hide in fictitious make believe,
possessed by demons who purblind and deceive.
In your bogus twisted fabricated state of mind,
answers to your questions you shall never find.
Your fraudulent mask poses, deceptively concocted,
mocking with a grim masquerade you have adopted.
ii death
As your heart blackens with the absence of light,
Lucifer summons you closer, to his sheer delight.
Loved ones cannot save you from hell's burning heat,
there's nothing behind you but shadows of deceit.
Now that your toxic nature has begun to expire,
you can no longer suck energy like a vampire.
Nobody cares to listen to your forged confession.
There is only joy in the absence of your aggression.
iii after life
Pain like hungry howling wolves irritates skin deep.
After all this time, why do you sabotage my sleep?
Am I cursed that I see your silhouette in my dreams,
I'm struggling to ignore your torrid smouldering screams.
Why continue to haunt me like a vicious viper?
Firing shells of cyanide like a silent sniper.
iv remedy for change
I'm fortunate that my quill has become my shield,
for every wound, poetry is my remedy to be healed.
My ink is my saviour, bursting through my vein,
a catharsis for peace, as from hate I abstain.
While sidestepping impediments,
Achilles heel stricken with paralyzing zap
chronically inducing captain klutz
to bemoan and yap,
i.e. (think) booby trap
strategically laid down by the missus -
necessitating yours truly
to patschke with marauder map
in an to circumvent and handicap
becoming lame and crippled for life
essentially rendering me totally tubular
pathetic non-ambulatory chap.
Aforesaid dangerous tripping hazard,
the spouse I do calmly berate
causing me being waylaid
for very important date
and/or additionally hurrying
to forestall bowel movement,
viz urgent incommodious fate
mine impromptu tanglefoot (feet) dance step
doth ineluctably foment hate.
Ready to lash out courtesy sanity claws
meanwhile thee wife burst out with guffaws
me cursing Sir Isaac Newton's gravitational laws
one infuriated husband
our marital covenant, he swiftly redraws
subsequently divorce sputters
thru clenched jaws
underscoring how feigned wedded bliss
(actually shotgun marriage)
replete with many flaws
e'er since chance encounter
regarding future maternal cause
deux daughters we begat
packed their bags at tender age,
and left home without pause.
All these approximate
two score plus oddly even years
avoiding precarious hazardous risks wears
heavily reinforced steel tipped
crampon tricked out boots,
which rugged footwear eventually tears,
though they outlasted lifetime
predicted on advertisements and follow up
customer satisfaction questionnaires
as satisfied survivor traversing
harrowing riddled landscapes,
I feel adequately trained to join
most hardy (doubting thomas) mountaineers,
especially those with surname Reznick
livingsocial, snapchatting, and twittering in Switzerland
possibly linkedin with Harris heirs
this wordsmith conclusively blares.
I non-jokingly attest -
above recounted spectacle no humorous avail,
thereby true love moost prevail
when wife leaves mayhem and bedlam
nothing boot trail of destruction without fail
excellent preparation if/when
purblind poetic papa needs to learn Braille.
Extreme sadness looking far away to nowhere
Purblind affair undestined to last last forever
Self-centeredness had been fading the glowing flare
Her spirit may seemed dead but the beats were still there
Into her eyes, teardrops fell in a silent stare
Gigantic sorrows made her cry a river
Irreversible love is going to somewhere
In state of his despise, she loved him than ever
She dream to be with him together forever
His road of calvary she is ready to bear
But his long waited shadow really never care
He left her in the middle of darkest nowhere
She thought she was dead yet she is a wallflower
Thinking, wondering her nostalgic love affair
Form:
Meg often told Josh
to try to be less reckless
but Josh had panache
when dealing with dangerous
too often being feckless
since days of sixth grade
their hands often intertwined
Meg and Josh displayed
how their main wants were aligned
though to harm Josh was purblind
Meg off to college
while Josh acquired war knowledge
strife without stoppage
where fears must be acknowledged
sympathy soon abolished
is no safe return
for what's lost along the way
only time to burn
no matter what others say
may come no brighter new day
when Twin Towers fell
Josh had rushed off to enlist
Meg's life went to hell
Josh’s words now like a hard fist
boy she'd known didn't exist
the world keeps turning
no matter how hard we pray
or strength of yearning
for that which was yesterday
tomorrow can be stone gray
forward observer
to Afghanistan he's sent
his own preserver
living in wind torn pup tent
letters described his descent
first months Meg worried
next mission Josh would be dead
their future buried
Josh's letters fill her with dread
terror lies in what's now read
tis time which smolders
forever change is churning
both growing older
with each thing Meg is learning
worry won't stop time burning
hold tight to your soul
into the void it may go
longing digs deep holes
upsetting the status quo
mixing up who's friend and foe
tick-tock does not stop
until tense mainsprings unwind
now their ball shall drop
just before ties will them bind
leaving little peace of mind
what scares Meg most
not if Josh is still alive
with return now close
Meg's uncertain she'll survive
what's become a nosedive
measuring last breathes
some things become worse than death
stolen by time's thieves
what we still want to believe
before we can start to grieve
dreading Josh's return
Meg would now prefer to hide
only time to burn
their fate's unwilling new bride
now caught on the same strange ride
only time to burn
while human emotions churn
withal yet we yearn
our ought-to-bes make downturns
changes cannot be returned
I see Maya as a video game
If its software gets decoded,
No more a tiger, life looks cat-like tame
If source code’s breached, its secret spread.
By mere digits, by dots and dashes made,
Innocence still’s no bliss, but shame,
Where so knowledge burns bright if ignited,
Fun fizzles out and life walks lame.
If players we are in a pre-planned game,
Let Maya a magic toy be.
Peas prosper well in a pod’s confined frame,
A man purblind looks, scarce can see.
If ignorance is child-like innocence,
To bask in bliss, I feel, makes immense sense.
___________________ ___
Sonnet (Tongue-in-cheek) | 04.11.2016 |ignorance, bliss, joy, world
I peer quite nervously about,
to wonder at the goings on,
how much of what is said,
is speculation on my part,
and how this dwelling rose,
from a clouded past milieu,
tales of the apocryphal I’d guess,
imagination stirred off course,
uncanny gothic motto purblind,
blue ink mist curtain veil stoke,
vivid mind’s black night visual,
amulet of congested fantasy,
macabre plot on the strain,
what surreal restlessness within,
dormant interregnum cast,
yet one seems drawn toward,
that dim lit swirling sight,
nest for midnight dervish,
and other brazen species,
dare I enter from afar,
perforce I court danger,
when nosey to a fault,
but therein lies the trap,
to be fascinated is one thing,
to stray beyond another,
why would one be so tempted,
by an entity with dark omens,
superstition is a term used,
to smear that which is unknown,
it is however justified,
when carefully used methinks,
a shrouded raven perched,
stoic, solemn sage as sentry,
ravens circulating chimney top,
symbolic ghost appearing numb,
somehow I cannot summon,
pluck up that innate gumption,
to confront a crippling fear,
before it duly swallows me,
now I feel driven without rein,
zany impulse at the whelm,
enigmatic pathway underfoot,
reluctant step a heavy booth lurch,
shattered eaves, torn leaves,
giant concrete slab tumble,
frail broken window smithereened,
taut ghoulish splinters glisten,
I dash against elemental angst,
when peeping warily into the void