Love has been described as a battlefield as it can leave us with scars that can be seen and unseen by others.
Especially when the notes are singing in harmony.
A Harmony that is purely Bella to the fall of the first winter snow.
Snow that calms the hot ground from the heat that escaped the summer and landed into late Autumn.
Both forms of love are based on the unity of love.
Cold and hot cannot exist without one another.
Even when they oppose one another they are still brought together by the Melody and Harmony of music and life.
They are the love born of constant sadness and perseverance of truth.
They come from the unity of two that have different backgrounds that were meant to unify for a complete bliss that begins with four angels, and ends with more bliss.
Nothing can be done as all of the Gods, including the one that is the chief of all has ordained it!
state of affairs
entombed in pieces;
crumbs of it scatter
every which way...
at the mercy
of erratic winds,
and its next-to-impossible
to gather
in a heaping pile.
nothing can be done;
it's beyond my control.
i can't change it,
so, i adapt to it,
i accept it
as is.
"There are only two days in the year that nothing can be done.
One is called yesterday and the other is called tomorrow, so
today is the right day to love, believe, do, and mostly live."
Quote by _Dalai Lama
Most of my life has been like a dream trance,
repressed and lost in one long grief coma:
but, I have found my now moment and chance,
I no longer want the melodrama;
want to enjoy this life's sweet aroma.
It is a rebirth of the joyful me,
and I am breezy, happy and carefree:
the child in me is quite alive and well,
in calm silence I have found the true me;
within stillness of soul- I wish to dwell.
“it’s not desire per say but the clinging ~
that stifles soul and stops heart from singing
enlivening silence sets our soul free ~
vibrant in the now, joyful and carefree”
Betwixt and between
Sadness and mirth
Happy but sad
For dear Mother Earth
Feeling sorry for
Adding to the mess
Not really aware
Of my part I confess
Betwixt and between
Feel guilty at times
Having so much
While others are crying
The worldwide problem
Of hunger and disease
Is difficult to remedy
Impossible to ease
Betwixt and between
I sit here and cry
'Bout the inequality
Don't understand why
Do we throw up our hands
Say nothing can be done
Go on and forget it
Just enjoying the sun
Betwixt and between
Filled with sadness and love
Gotta keep on trying
The gnarled hands of woodworkers know the pain
a grip that's crippled from years of constant work
to grasp or carry a momentous strain
this problem is a continuous irk
Nothing can be done but take it in stride
it's a pain from a lifetime that's chosen
there's no complaint, no regrets, only pride
though at times, all the fingers are frozen
They lock firmly in place, become stiff and rigid
as the hands of old craftsmen are calloused
they're earned from hardwoods tightly fitted
made perfect so the work can be purchased
hands of a furniture maker are hard
they're worn and bent, sometimes gnarled and scarred
How proud they put them on display
Two thousand of the first of fortyk
There President Bukele did say
They’ll live in the jailhouse for decades
he went on boasting, in jail it’s judgement day,
as he held his glass of brandy toasting
inmates, suspected violent gang members
moved to a new mega-prison in El Salvador
Transferred to the Center of Confinement of Terrorism
Mixed up, unable to do any more harm
to the population, it was said
So why do I care about these souls,
tears flowed as I read the article
about thousands of prisoners, and Bukele in particular
Central American country’s notorious pandillas
And right then I understood why I cried
Hundreds never made it to round two, que pesadillas
There are the innocent ones who are denied
a fair trial, it's sad to think that nothing can be done
for a mother's innocent son
The world is becoming complex
Entirely different from the last century one
Racism, hegemony, corruption, brainwashing and vandalism
Become common
Nothing can be done to wipe them out
Maybe tolerance is the only key
To survive in a lost world
Created by the devil in the heart
Which has produced three poisons
Greed, hatred and infatuation
The source of all passions and delusions
In a lost world of today and tomorrow
Oh my god
An expression for emotion
A phrase for my astonishment and frustration
Oh my god
What a hell to live in
What's the future going to be
It seems hopeless
A phrase for the world too
What a man's destruction does to this world
What can be done
It seems nothing can be done
Oh my god
The world and I are asking for your help
An instant and urgent help
Oh my god
A phrase of astonishment or frustration
An instant outburst of emotion
A calling for help
A calling for God,the almighty
We blame any obstacles in our ways
The obstacles are cruel
We try all the ways to remove them
We blame the devil as well as God
But who is or which is the cruelest after all
I said it's time
Because there isn't any more chance
And nothing can be done
If without the permission of time
Don't know
Nor feel to come and go
Silent still
No desire no will
Rigid stone
Frozen flesh and bone
Nothing can be done
Just waiting to be gone
4Jan 2022
Evidence is not the only
Proof of guilty or innocent
But the heart's motif is
It will be reevaluated in the last court
Afrer death
And
Every guilt will have its judgement
And every good deed will have its value
And so we have to live
As a wise man on earth
If nothing can be done
Better hope for the final judgement
In the last court
And for the time being
Let God live in your heart
I love you so and
I want you to know
That the care I feel is deep
I won't let you be alone.
I see you struggle as you
Force on smiles through the pain
But it feels like hope's in vain!
You're stuck in the center
Of what's supposed to help.
It's doing nothing useful
Nothing to benefit your health!
It seems that sleep is a luxury
Of it deprived are you...
This is a carers point of view!
( Chorus )
I know you tell me nothing can be done
That illness takes its toll on everyone
And it's merely a process that comes with age
When abilities start to fade...
Arthritis is rife
Part of the norm in your life
Frustration will flare
With no energy there.
If I had the power
I'd take all your ills away
In a heartbeat
Right away!
( Chorus )
I know you cling to the hope
Of a better time
When the quality of health
Won't be on the decline.
Your faith and trust
In the promises made
Is how you cope with trials today.
If I could
I'd swap my youth, my health
And carry all of your
Agonies myself.
The things you really need
I cannot do for you...
This is a carers point of view.
What scares me the most?
The sheer tranquility one possesses while taking an innocent's life.
How their hearts don't quiver or hands don't shiver while they cut through the throats of so many.
One life lost,ten families destroyed.
What kind of barbarity is this in which they take pride.
Somewhere someone's reality is this,
How sleepy one' conscience should get to ignore this cruelty.
Women tortured,men beheaded.
Girls sold ,boys brainwashed.
A generation killed , a bright future lost.
The lies they tell,
the stories they make,
the false promises they give.
A facade ineffective in hiding what's beneath.
Yet nothing can be done for the one's whose lives are at stake.
Wives raped, daughters enslaved,
Millions of dreams destroyed.
Just a difference of boundary decides your future.
What if these boundaries were blurred?
What if all that mattered was humanity?
I know I am asking for something impossible,
Yet it's not something that's unthinkable.
What scares me the most?
Humankind
The mist makes you see far.
Driving home, it was late after a clinic visit
the mist hung heavy over the valley that looked like a different landscape.
I might as well drive in Bhutan, a place where mad royals live.
At the dinner table, the prince excused himself, returned with a machine gun
and shot them all, a truly Shakespearian moment.
The prince was declared mentally unfit sent to a secure place
but since he was now a king, he can walk around and be free of relatives, sits in the throne-room
wears a crown and nothing can be done about it.
The French got rid of their royals but not totally some of them still walk around calling themselves
duke or baron, but politicians occupy their splendid castles.
I saw them, the royals of yore moving about in the mist, reminded me
of the ghosts on the island of Saragossa where blind old tars are forever trying to escape back to
the sea where they once were the princelings of the oceans.
Distances make us cry....
But these distances teach us substantiality and give us the art of sacrifice......
not just now but even more and more times the thought of distances come to your alley to make you bitterly cry.....
even in a dream distances harry......
not the work but The distances make you weary.....
yearn remains but nothing can be done, this is the irony.....
the more you escape from distances, the more you find distances near your alley.....
distances gives us a reason to love harder and creat circumstances where you laugh beside cry.....
Your competence define how much you outstay because distances are odyssey and remains throughout the life and this is the bitter truth of life.
Related Poems