forest limbs swing wide
tails vanish betwixt the leaves
hands learn to hold stones
muscle and thought entwining-
shaping the first fragile edge
soul entered the fray
moulding spiritual form
eyes afire with zeal-
humanoid stalks the garden
a king calling the beasts names
flint sparks in cold caves
shadows dance on raw stone walls
stories find their voice-
the stone mason stands upright
stone flint and fire seize the day
now man shapes in steel
threads thought through silver-net mesh
words flap without wings-
man beyond his own making
ejects the flaws he once bore
circuits wear the crown
king of beasts remade in steel
hands that never tire-
maker bows to better made
behold the mirror ascends
In silence, we watch shadows pass
they shape our thoughts and feed the farce
Moulding lives to fit the lies
that see us strive, conform and die
And scared of what we do not know
we do not move or seek to go
But idle in their well known forms
find safety in such practised norms
There is no need to speculate
the shadows teach us fear and hate
Breed small world views and selfish thoughts
dispense with troubling shoulds and oughts
It matters not what's right or wrong
so long as we all nod along
While voices preach invented truths
to justify each new abuse
As newborn Gods, those few rich men
close liberty's gate and lock the pen
Embrace what once seemed quite absurd
they are the path, we are the herd
In barless cages, through blinkered eyes
accepting corporate sponsored rise
The missing light upon that wall
...an absence which now stains us all
(Image credit: Sara Fang)
When first I saw you, so sorely I fell
Your radiant eyes set my heart ablaze
Upon my soul you weaved your wicked spell
Moulding me under your bewitching gaze
Thus I could not but be your willing slave
Ready to meet your every desire
So deeply did I your attention crave
Your very presence set my soul on fire
Twas when I discovered your diary
That the truth upon me began to dawn
Your angel face masked a fiend fiery
From your control then I had to be gone
A word of warning to all you good men
Beware the wiles of bewitching women
To be frank what is there sweet
for man in insinuating evil wars?.
Is not that the world ever
can mould or this somehow now
that is moulding today?, not even for it
to step aside or in the long run
remember and fancy anything
maybe otherwise again?.
Do we know whether sometimes
weapons are beautiful and in case
can rock the heart and yonder
arm the mind to grow firmer
to grow stronger and the world
let say here or there?.
In English I would say
I've lost it once again ,
In poetry le' me say,
Bricks and stones
Break my bones
But words have destroyed
What can never be restored .
I swear.. I never thought this
concrete wall of confidence
I have created against every
negative word would ever
fall apart as I spent decades of hours
moulding and moulding
my precious mountain made of
affirmations and motivations,
in hope of one-day
I could hide behind it
everytime I'm attacked by
words that breaks& destroys
mine from within.
So...you tell me what do I do in-this dilemma.
SHE WAKESUP RELENTLESSLY FIXING ALL THE MUDDLE
BEFORE LEAVING FOR THE DAY
THENLATER,WADDLING LIKE A TODDLER HER WAY BACK
TIRELESSLY FULFILLING ALL KEYED IN COMMANDS,
THE MESS WAITING IN THE SINK.
THE BABY UNKEPT.
BEFORE RETIRING TO HER COZY ZONE
AND WAKING UP AGAIN, AGAIN LIKE IN A TIME LOOP
EVENTUALLY MOULDING HERSELF INTO A ROBOTIC INSTRUMENT.
ROBOTS DONT FALL SICK OR NEED A BREAK,
THEY DONT HAVE MOODS OR EMOTIONS.
YES THEY CALL HER IRON LADY FOR A DEFINITE REASON.
HER VEINS ARE COPPER WIRES AND HER BLOOD IS MERCURY
HER SKIN IS ALUMINIUM AND HER EYEBALLS THAT DEFY SLUMBERNESS,
ARE OF PLATINUM, HER HEART OF GOLD AND ORGANS OF ZINC.
the fins
of human
quake tremendously
spills grotesqueness while dumping
the ox cosmos in the middle of smoothly
mirrored
ocean Walls
where ones choice is fixed
at dawn stagnantly brimming
in obsolete enviable damp colours
woven in a volcanic
oasis of anguished circles embraced in
loneliness fronted
with shuttering frozen stars
moulding through a sunny cheerful darkness
reinvigorated with
strident current in
waves staring
hovering and invading through the thorns of
the barren mountains
wrapped in swings of an
encroached moonlight piercing in
the vacancy of
my enchanted soul
channeling through my so preceding exist
in steam of redolence reek
from the garden frowns
and grins
call me a piscine
but even as a sly tamed fox hereafter
I would soar on footprints of
ceaseless fogs
to unveil your gleam
leap through the reflection of
sunlight to sway you
exasperatingly siren my scales on
your prime lips
fading with a spin
submerged in a longing savory passion
The night inside me,
Anticipating heaven's light,
The gloom in my chamber,
Awaiting the sun's rise.
Treasured are the halcyon days,
Gone in a way cloaked by time,
Memorable are the bouquet days,
Shrivelled by the dark hands of time.
Struggling and creating,
All go on the dismal way,
Sculpting and moulding,
The materials are obstinate.
Twilight holds sway,
Dawn is in a deep sleep,
I'm on a journey to glory land,
Even though it’s across the seas.
June 29, 2023.
It’s a sunny day, it’s another day.
It’s a picnic day, it’s a hopping day.
It’s a play day, it’s a friendly day.
It’s a laughing day, it’s a climbing day.
It’s an sliding day, it’s a swaying day.
It’s a Sunday, it’s another day.
It’s a beachy day, it’s a sandy day.
It’s a swimming day, it’s a basking day.
It’s a moulding day, it’s a running day.
It’s an ice-cream day, its a warm day.
06.04.2023
How worthless is he who paves violence:
Is not he who bewilders the land of peace?
With his thoughts, moulding it to corrupt the people;
In the interest of satisfying himself.
But I tell you: violence spells complete anarchy!
Of that land: will development be prevented,
In the face of unaccountability;
Bad reputations altogether.
It steals the land of peace with and love for one another.
O but if, we in this, can change our forceful acts,
And be submissive to the norms of the land,
Shadowy we in the ink of joy.
I beseech you the people of land—
To watch and set your minds off violence—
For the growth of our region.
Let us march not with the shoe of violence
Rather the shoe of love and equanimity, I pray!
Worthless is he who paves destruction,
And worthy is he who resists it;
Indeed, choose:
Worthy or worthless are you?
How worthless is he who paves violence:
Is not he who bewilders the land of peace?
With his thoughts, moulding it to corrupt the people;
In the interest of satisfying himself.
But I tell you: violence spells complete anarchy!
Of that land: will development be prevented,
In the face of unaccountability;
Bad reputations altogether.
It steals the land of peace with and love for one another.
O but if, we in this, can change our forceful acts,
And be submissive to the norms of the land,
Shadowy we in the ink of joy.
I beseech you the people of land—
To watch and set your minds off violence—
For the growth of our region.
Let us march not with the shoe of violence
Rather the shoe of love and equanimity, I pray!
Worthless is he who paves destruction,
And worthy is he who resists it;
Indeed, choose:
Worthy or worthless are you?
Memories and impressions we think faded away
Suddenly strikes back as film-reel like sweeping flood
I sit dejected, tired at some aloof corner of the city
It feels as if all passers-by staring at me with ***** anxiety
Our persona is mirror image of how we think and act
Wrinkles on face carved by reflection of greed and passion
No external power can shape you towards pure perfection
Except your own moulding and self-analytical introspection
Emotions build an unseen tunnel between heart and brain
Only heaven knows how it flows out as poetry or lyrics
A new born appears in the world with loud weeping thunder
But alas, life leaves the worldly resort without a whisper
AN ALLEGORICAL COCOON LESSON
(APROPOS OF POLLING)
In preparation, ants are moulding
And stacking their mounds; in hives,
Bees reflect collective oneness
In the sweetness of their unity;
And in high distant places, black
Widows meticulously spin their webs,
While honing hornets harden their nests:-
Cocooned in political and economic darkness,
Let us not be dismayed, apathetic sojourners;
Remember, while caterpillars are entombed
To be no more, their cocoon eventually opens
And out soars a liberated beautiful butterfly:-
Let us be as the butterfly, as we powerfully soar
With flapping vote-casting wings gliding us
Towards full liberation in our political sojourn.
In preparation, ants are moulding and stacking
Their mounds, while in hives, bees are reflecting
The collective oneness in the sweetness of unity;
With voting power, let us likewise reflect such
Sweetness of unity in power-based rendering:-
In the valley's green forest sprawl
There runs a stream and waterfall
I'm often drawn there to feel free
Water flows and nourishes me
Hidden under the treetop weaves
Bordered by ferns and mossy leaves
Cool water soothes my energy
Water flows and nourishes me
I sit quiet and watch it drift
Constantly moving and shape shift
Moulding itself round rock and tree
Water flows and nourishes me
It babbles to itself in play
Busily tumbling o'er the way
I remember I can flow free
Water flows and nourishes me
A man and child; this one moment
Does he through it wend.
Spoiled of whose charms, in abundance
A fabulous realm dot.
Castle and church. Misted, moulding.
Shrouded too in legend.
And what evokes, more proudly odd
Each fairy tree and grot.
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