Long Upmanship Poems
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Beyond the imposing and the high iron gate
The picturesque setting of the Oxford University
Situates the hedonistic oriented Bullingdon Club
Founded more than 200 years ago.
The socially exclusive students get the invitation
To join the Club as its elite members
Many of whom have attained prominence
And position of power in Britain’s political arena.
The ill-famed Club is known for
Its wealthy members and their notorious behavior
Partaking in the boisterous rituals such as
Vandalizing restaurants and students’ rooms.
The Club’s colors are sky blue and shining ivory
Seen on the tailcoats the members wear
For the annual dinner where the drunken revelers
Greet each other chanting “buller, buller, buller”.
The Club has survived the roller-coaster ride
Lurching between frequent recruitment crises
And nearly facing the shut down
But the buller has a way of bouncing back.
The distinctiveness of its haughty members
Reflected in their one-upmanship attitude
Took them to eminence along the tough tracks
The outside world is skeptic about their dubious traits.
____________
April 7, 2023
Contest : Bullingdon Boys
Spoinsored by : Joe Maverick
Game of pretence, is played out everyday
Our authentic self, seems to have no say
As we go about through needless parlance
Social etiquette cause of dalliance
Oft saying yes, when we wish to say nay
Hypocrisy becoming our mainstay
Subterfuge as way of life, here to stay
Silencing gentle voice, of our conscience
Game of pretence
Shifty eyes, lips that lie, thread of truth frays
One-upmanship our norm, the wayward way
Oh hermit! How will we pay our penance
Having consigned our heart to decadence
How much longer will lower mind hold sway
Game of pretence
16-February-2021
Open poetry 2 poetry contest
Sponsor: Charlotte Puddifoot
Egocentric, engaged in games of one-upmanship
I developed a jaundiced and judgmental eye
Over time, losing over mind-body my grip
Belied expectations oft made heart sigh
My reflex response was to put others down
Mocking both the living and dead, saw love die
Lines on face hardened, sarcasm bore a frown
Demonic dreams deepened my dark despair
In images thus conjured, I began to drown
It was a Joro spider that made me aware
When a small sunbird was caught in its net
Defying base instinct, it released her with care
I took this as a message to change my mindset
Enabled simply by melding head with heart
Taking no more, mere rebuffs as a threat
I now mock myself; it is a learnt art
Choosing slow consciousness correction
Simply mindfully and gently, adding love to cart
Soul centric introspection cajoles us to shift direction
Igniting bliss within, paving way for soul’s resurrection
In a show of manic one-upmanship
With my wife saying, “Just get a grip.”
I planned an adventure to show I’m well travelled
The spoiler to that is the whole thing unravelled
I looked at the brochures and boy was I keen
Determined to find somewhere Tom hadn’t been
That man is a nomad, he never sits still
He just grabs a suitcase and travels at will
[At this point please lend me a bit of your time
for this advance warning of appalling rhyme]
My legs are so white that I ought to be sunning ’em
I’ll find somewhere warm that’s eluded Tom Cunningham
I made a quick sandwich with pickle from Branston
And then thought EUREKA…I’ll call Richard Branson
I sold a few organs and Gran’s silver spoon
And raised enough money to fly to the moon
He said he does orbits then back down to earth
A trip to the moon was more grief than it’s worth
I grabbed Branson’s beard and said “Listen to me,
you’re gonna help me outdo Mr C.”
Well, long story short, I arrived on old Luna
Tom might have planned it but I got there sooner
Then a little green man said, “Is Earth where you’re from?
When you get back home again… say ‘Hi’ to Tom.”
So hard to really know what to believe
on news presented to us every day;
as if our world's divided into two
opposing groups interpreting each fact-
and truth lies hidden in a misty fog.
In bygone days, old movie theaters brought
us news on film before the featured show
to be the only way shown on a screen.
With no confusion, what was right or wrong;
commitment to believe was held by most.
Then, later on, TV gave instant news-
not then presented as a drama show
competing for high ratings as the goal.
Unbiased, basic facts to us were served-
devoid of changing them to showbiz art.
Belief is shattered by the news today;
our media so quickly spins reports.
The competition with each other steals
one-upmanship to push their biased facts.
Believe- a word not honored in our thoughts.
March 5, 2023
Contest: B--Forms and Words Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Sotto Poet
Chosen Word: Believe
20.9
“Where is distraction, concentration,
knowledge or delusion?
Where is joy or sorrow?
I am Stillness”
Verse revisited on 29-December-2022
Let’s keep this verse simple
By resting thought forms nimble
Just as we look at any other object
The thought will arise, subside, eject
There being no identity doership
No games of one-upmanship
Awareness self-aware renews
Pulse of aliveness in myriad hues
In an aspect of embrace and release
Holding not onto the involuntary sneeze
Vaporised soul presence ever blissful
Beholds play of dream life beautiful
Transcending sensory joy and pain
Mind-body cleansed from stain
Enabled by rapture of divine bliss
The here and now being all there is
Partaking of soma nectar bliss potion
Celebrating life as a splash in the ocean
One with That oneness, time too yields
To the omnipotent power God wields
And so transformed as living light
Heightened is our soul’s delight
We dance as such and yet are still
Having surrendered fully to God’s will
In timeless time becoming the bliss flame
We’re That that may be assigned no name
From birth to death, each of us walks alone,
in as a narrative we wish to feel,
thus as we embrace, release and atone,
we rely on God’s love and light to heal.
In a subject-object relationship,
we believe ourself to be feeble form
and engaged in games of one-upmanship,
earth life for most part, is a turbid storm.
We know not who we are and yet live on,
in pursuit of ephemeral desires
and so it continues, both praise and scorn,
until the day our exhausted heart tires.
Shifting horizons now hold no appeal,
somewhat diminished is our zest and zeal.
Somewhat diminished is our zest and zeal,
discovering our efforts were in vain,
upon which in altar of God we kneel,
praying love and light glows in heart again.
Recognising that we script not our fate,
shifting into silence, we become still,
making our heart once more, childlike and chaste,
that by grace divine, voids within may fill.
Having thus relinquished our thought flow crutch,
we surrender, melding head with our heart,
ingraining direct wisdom by soul’s touch,
mindfully choosing to add love to cart.
Emptiness then, is the way to begin;
cave of heart’s open, so we go therein.
Cave of heart’s open, so we go therein,
remaining aware with nary a care,
whereupon we feel magnetism plug-in,
cajoling our polarities to pair.
As a receptor, there’s nothing we do,
for to be truthful, there is no road map
and each nuance felt is pristine and new,
drawing us to God by closing the gap.
We shout from the rooftops but no one hears,
unable to comprehend the bliss flame,
held in benign currents, God Himself steers,
revealing deep wisdom that has no name.
In a realm dual, in bondage to mind,
we know not the truth, because we are blind.
We know not the truth, because we are blind
but now having seen, with our inner eye,
we cognise God is wise, loving and kind,
known if we agree to let ego die.
We cling to identity, which is not,
in as it is merely a thought construct
but on shifting to heart, as we all ought,
our false self dies, we see it self-destruct.
It is clear that although monks wish to share,
the wisdom sublime, they have so imbibed,
those who refuse to see, just cannot pair,
enslave by ego, which has always lied.
Harvest of grace is reaped, as of seeds sown;
from birth to death, each of us walks alone.
Our tender eyes betray the way we see
Honouring God’s presence within each heart
That deems all of us as one, none apart
Viewed thus from soul’s eye, joyous and carefree
Our innocence with bliss beats does agree
Having willingly added love to cart
Thus feeling bliss ignition within start
Being the way we become and so be
It maybe said that we’re not worldly wise
For we engage not in one-upmanship
Resting in our heart watching bliss beats rise
Beholding life’s flow in childlike surprise
With the pulse of love being our flagship
Distanced from the world of deceit and lies
01-June-2023
"Watch out for these two! A disastrous inferno" - quote by poet.
Talk about the definition of trouble!
Two people tainted with potent toxicity.
As if either of the two isn't bad enough.
Such up-to-no-good partners in crime
Walking down a crooked primrose path.
Keep a sizeable distance from them!
They're a fire and gasoline twosome;
An oil and water combination, no doubt.
Think of a Bonnie and Clyde dynamic.
Think a film noir femme-fatale...
And a malleable, meek private eye.
Oh, the twisted mind games they play;
It's a constant game of one-upmanship
And manipulation against one another.
Did I mention they rob and kill, too?
Encased in feeble form, doomed one day to die,
words penned in holy books offered no solace
and prayers that I muttered, quelled not heart’s sigh,
so exhausted being unable to lace
the truth of life, I deemed everything a lie,
plunging into silence to invoke God’s grace.
Many moons passed yet steady was my resolve,
to see without mirrors, that soul may evolve.
Having relinquished each and every belief,
I became a silent witness to my mind,
noticing that wayward ego was the thief
that stole soul’s peace, leaving head-heart misaligned
and so in staid silence, I turned a new leaf,
heeding voice of conscience, touch gentle and kind.
Exiting futile games of one-upmanship,
holding firm focus, love became my flagship.
Love being God’s force that ends separation,
in timeless time, Holy Spirit entered form,
romance divine, in an endless flirtation,
felt as magnetic currents both cool and warm,
causing within, energy nodes gyration,
which swept me away in this benign bliss storm.
Call this what you like and give it any name
but bliss in permanence is my claim to fame.