Never argue with a fool, onlookers may not be able to tell the difference.
Mark Twain
you’ll get no argument from me
here it goes again
that unmistakable sensation
in the centre of our chest
the light of Self
we have no argument
with words written by sages
which may be at variance
with these pulsations
we walk the path alone
vibrant in solitude of blissfulness
where form and vast space
entwine in rapture
There must be a square to form a circle,
four women to call every element;
Together they are a force of nature,
joined by every celestial particle;
An equation’s sum has no argument,
there’s no solution except an answer;
Spell-casting as one the strongest skill,
in the air hangs their collective flavor;
Bound and connected for the moment,
primary laws of magic always will
endure.
two women on a seesaw laughing their happy heads off
Like male praying mantises, except they did not scoff
wearing dresses and high heels which was absurd
Their husbands Phil and Lee walked by, without saying a word
Pretending they do not know their wives imbibe during the day
Something hard to not realize if you are looking their way
They were arguing now about whose seesaw was the best.
They were both on the same one, so it was no real test.
Let’s go to a ballgame, suggested Phil to his friend Lee.
They had no argument from their Gladys or Sammy.
Arguing now about whether the seesaw was blue or red.
Let’s stop by and pick up my favorite cousin, Fred.
Time will tell
When I'm still there
After the fire
Or cupboards bare
Time will tell
Endurance wins
Past bruises, burns
Or sufferings
Time will tell
No room to quibble
Just beauty
Past the horrible
Time will tell
The whispered truth
No shout required
No loud uncouth
Time will tell
If you're worthwhile
With every hug
With every smile
Time will tell
No shades of grey
No argument
No 'so you say'
Time will tell
Her secret then
Love letter written
Without a pen
Jinjagoliath
8th August 2023
Unleash your slumbered passions
For all the world to see.
Embrace Spring in all its glory
To let the dregs of winter be.
Move with purpose and intention...
Making bold of what's to come.
Lay some groundwork for achievement...
Hear the call of feral drums.
Spring demands of us a reckoning
As winter's cruelty fades away...
Giving germ and seed to possibility...
We are bound for better days.
Who among us hasn't welcomed
The flowers as they bloom?
Who among us doesn't sanctify
The end of winter's gloom?
There is no argument one can offer...
So let the vernal warmth in hearts dwell
As it would be a cruel trick on Nature
To not make something of ourselves.
The End
I wish to live in a place of peace
In a place of silence
in a place where there's no argument
in a place where I have to think less
In a place where there's space
No people to torture me emotionally
where I won't have to sympathise with fake people
where I won't have to avoid peer pressure
In a place where there's no war
In a place where there's no sarrow
I just wish to live under the moon
And watch the brightness of the moon
The twinkling of the stars
and feel the fresh air
away from the polluted environment
Whenever I run to my land seeking peace
I come back with conflict
Hence I wanna go and live in a peaceful environment
dictionary pup wanted to know each and every word.
he read the encyclopedias, which some said was absurd.
he took a pile of magazines and novels to his bed.
falling asleep among books that were green, blue and red.
you have to cut this out, his mother said, quite stern.
but how else will I glean knowledge? How else will I learn?
she had no argument for that, so he kept doing what he did.
he is a college professor at Yale, this inquisitive pup kid.
He started A Sharp Enterprise
And it was A Thing of Surprise:
Big Shops you walked up to their shelves
To survey the items yourselves;
Many a sure lasting garment
That should permit no argument,
Which one could wear till Interment
And still not be starved compliment …
A lot of Touching Friendliness
Because of his stamped Godliness:
A Policy of Dialogue
And rejection of Monologue;
He’s floating an Enterprise,
Where one might negotiate price.
In days long gone by
I knew the meaning of a sigh
Hopeless resigning;
I simply gave up
No use complaining,
No argument remaining.
written February 28, 2022
No argument, no caste, nothing will matter
When India's erstwhile maestros sang in Hindi
Though mine is sparse, their songs made me traditional
O cultural shell! Wired so Indian, South African me
Millions in India, thanks Bollywood, will still sing along
Perhaps
Maybe
It just might be
Time to consider
The possibility
Of handing over
The planet
To the animals
I mean realistically
They could no worse than we have done
At least we know they would live in harmony with nature
Instead of trying to force it to their will
They wouldn’t be arrogant
Or petty, bitter or greedy
Or disloyal or betray each other
Or kill for no reason or torture each other
Or go to war
Or rape each other
Or lie to each other
Do I need to keep going?
Really there’s no argument here
The decision is quite clear
We need to simply
Step aside my dear
There’s nothing to fear
Our ugliness is reflected in the worlds mirror
We are not what we appear
Just fallen from grace
At an accelerated pace
Our arrogance is a slap
In our creator’s face
More ashamed I could not be
Of how we act to the one
Who gave life to me
It’s simply the reality
Of our frivolity
Eric (and sometimes not)
I was discovered by the Pluto Search Team in 2005
My large red impact crater showing them I am semi-alive.
I have since discovered it was June fifteenth by earth years
My image got uploaded by New Horizons, one of my fears
They named me Nix, after a Greek Goddess of the Night.
I have no qualms about this, shall stir up no argument or fight.
I am one of five moons, smack in the middle, orbiting Pluto.
Charon, Styx, Kerberos and Hydra are the others I know.
Some say I am thirty miles across, others say it is forty.
I am elongated, for a moon, I am certainly no shorty.
I was surprised to see Earthlings had advanced this far.
I did not think at this time they would reach even one star.
We received a gift of art yesterday…Art…perhaps on this point the two of us might quibble…you see the art was from a three-year-old…it was a bucket filled with scribbles.
Perhaps it was not art at all…yes…when we see it in a different light…perhaps these were just little notes he took the time to write.
If it is a bucket filled with art or little notes is something we will long discuss…but what makes this bucket special…is he made it just for us.
What’s in that little bucket?…we can spend some time debating it but there is no argument what makes it special…is the time he took creating it.
For the beauty of any handmade gift (we realize as we grow older) lies both in the intention of the artist…as well as the eye of the beholder.
We are not supposed to fall in love, but we do.
He is a yellow wide mouth; I’m a pup of two.
We meet clandescently as many times as we can.
To kiss and snuggle and sing with a mariachi band.
He understands me better than my sisters or my bro.
We entertain each other singing songs that touch our soul.
His name I have never asked for it would seem forward somehow.
Our relationship is innocent and sweet, he is my bow wow wow.
We plan to be rock stars, my swishy sweet man and I.
We will travel the country, and make each other sigh.
We are a twosome that can never be separated ever again.
He is my soulmate, my forever man, with him I will win.
Sure I make different noises, and he swims instead of walking.
Our love is pure and true, there is no argument or squawking.
The perfect relationship, for children will never get in the way.
We will always have each other’s backs ‘til the end of every day.
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