Eleven years ago,
while rambling in my car
along the bank of Iril river
at Kongpal Moirangpurel,
a serene countryside
I spied Ureirom plants growing there,
their flowers blooming.
Long ago in our agrarian society
their fruits dyed women’s clothes pink -
done indigenously in every household
by the womenfolk.
Now the old art has faded
year by year with time
and the plants, once grown
in abundance are no longer seen.
Next day, in scattering showers,
with a camera I went there
and captured photographs
of the plants long unseen,
wondering how they grew there
while absent elsewhere.
Today, after eleven years,
when I strolled there again
the ureirom plants were gone
among the riverbank’s weeds -
Once women’s favorite,
now out of fashion,
neglected, nowhere to be seen.
There will always be the poor
It’s almost a natural law
It’s the way things are, you see.
Bollocks! he said
I’d rather be dead
Than to live under such tyranny.
The old and the frail
Are all sent to jail
As for treatment – they can’t pay the fee.
If you choose to be sick
Then you’d better think quick
‘Cause for you we’ll take no responsibility.
It’s like love and compassion
Have gone out of fashion
But please think carefully.
Is a world full of hate
Where the meek do not rate
One where we all want to be?
I dream a world where the courage of our conviction
is governed by the confidence in our compassion.
I dream a world where the courage of our conviction
is governed by compassion out of fashion.
I dream a world where we fashion a song of freedom
from the chains of our confusion.
I dream a world where the confusion of conviction
breeds the opportunity of connection.
I dream a world where the arcing line of justice
bisects the stubborn line of continuous conviction.
I dream a world where the chains linking all conviction
melt the chains which link the fences of our illusion.
I dream of a dream within a dream where the awakening
air we breathe is not a yawn but the song we dreamed.
And this time…
we remember…
all the words.
I have a dream.
I am grateful for Mother Teresa’s words
in this time of division in our country and the world
Even though her words see to have fallen out of fashion…
We do not need more guns and bombs to bring peace. She taught
We need more love and compassion.
We’ve tried hate hostility, abuse, war and prejudice
as have many generations before us….
And I have to ask…
As we look at our history and the state of the world today….
How’s that working for us?
Can’t fly, no wings
no voice, can’t sing
Can’t act, no passion
wardrobe's out of fashion
For music, no ear
quit school, no career
Always fall, can’t play ball
so ~ I chronicle it all
So sick of this world and generation
they tryna take ahold of my heart confiscation
the taste is bitter or tart
when it turns to ashes
cremation
I still got attachments i'm full of frustration
love seems to be my passion
eternally waitin
cant find as if its out of fashion, yet i still got patience
bout to have me ration and give up on this nation
everytime its me they blastin
stuck with these heart palpitations
i ain't see, she wore the mask in
My body desecratin
feel like a jew and she a nazi
way my life she began takin
my love grew thats when she popped me
took a bite, her heart was laced in
some ain't taste right and not long after steady hallucinatin
‘Circling the wagons’
is an absurd cliché
‘Cos even stations-wagons
are out-of-fashion today
Reflected in morning, rising in the still light – birdsong, strumming guitar solos on the winds of hope ~ quote by poet
~~~~~~~~~~
Graceful wings, rustling gently with softest song,
Amazing the wind with ballads so stirring
playing with July’s zeal, in hues who belong.
Singing hope and joy as the stars weep, blurring
Those moments of tender kisses, sharing life
Like the skies with their affections recurring.
Silent mists whisper sighs who cut like a knife,
Stilling aching prayers with sweet compassion,
Healing lonely souls who’ve known such heavy strife.
Love this alive never goes out of fashion,
Listen to that light flowing over blessed souls,
His amazing grace marks the worst fears ashen.
Despite what some believe, only God consoles,
When the worst comes, just believe, His love controls.
We’ve all heard warnings about the idea of
‘following your passion’
to such an extent that, frankly, it’s
gone out of fashion
So, I’m here to suggest -
No, I’m not from ‘Reader’s Digest’ –
that before you get antsy
Why not follow your fantasy
It’s ok if it’s sexual
as long as the story’s ‘contextual’
And as for ‘too much killing’
in today's violent world
your fantasy probably rates ‘second billing’
So, yes, by all means, follow your fantasy ~
Just makes sure no one dresses too scantily
I was 86 two weeks ago
It's no wonder that I move slowly.
My brain is racing down a track,
Looking for lost bits that won't come back.
My spelling is getting worse,
Which upsets me and makes me feel terse
Terse and frustrated, old and grey
Few can understand the things I say.
I do not know myself,
I could be a dusty vase perched on a shelf.
A vase that once was admired,
Now out of fashion, no longer desired.
A relic of another age
Tottering on the last page
Of an 86-year-old book
That is nearing its end,
But are there other chapters?
For me and others to look at
Before I go around the bend
I have much to comprehend.
It rhymes with compassion
It never goes out of fashion
It is heart’s greatest ration,
This utterly delightful passion
It rhymes with inspiration
It brings my heart such elation
It is life’s hope, my foundation
Coming to the heart with salvation
It rhymes with sweet grace
It lights up most anyplace
It stirs the spirit with its embrace
Knowing a joy nothing can replace
It rhymes with gentle charity
It brings the life it’s clarity
It assures the heart it’s prosperity
Enlightening the love’s similarity
It rhymes with the heart’s desire
It assures that love and hope conspire
It whispers of faith that brings you higher
Reassuring the spirit of its supplier
It rhymes with beautiful light
It rushes to save from the dark night
It reaches beyond the poems we write
Softening the soul with its insight
It rhymes with joyful peace
It is a wonder that will not cease
It’s creativity will ever increase
Sharing God’s grace, His masterpiece
It rhymes with Jesus, the Son
It abides in the soul He has won
It is filled with mercy for everyone
His grace and love won’t be outdone!
In my dream
I never knew I loved you
till late last nights surprise
Your visit to my bedside
opened up my eyes
Your presence under my covers
would my touch invite
The intertwine of our fingers
would be my first delight
Your voluntary movement
was an awesome sight
A gift of God's creation
by television light
Never let this be
just a one night stand
Your back it lay apon my chest
my arm a halfway band
Finding warmth beneath my covers
our comforts hand in hand
A wordless passion called dismay
would be out of fashion
I wake to find myself alone
with thoughts of the pleasant dream
Under covers of my comfort
T.V. light to help me sleep
I wondered why she came to me
when never thoughts discovered
Becoming now a dream to me
my days romance would suffer
Could it be that last night
she dreamed the same dream as me
I know inside that it's impossible
but still my day light dreams
Could she be a witch
that cast a spell on me
Or whispered my name in a prayer
and tossed it in the sea
The imp inside me beckons
Gods mercy let this be
Only always to discover finally
it's just I, myself and me
Friends come; friends go
Family lies low
Work's a revolving door
Family's hard core
Neighbors move in and out
Family's devout
Pets can disappear
Family cries real tears
When it comes to care and compassion
Family never goes out of fashion
Gucci really outdid themselves on this outfit.
I clap way longer than the others.
I stand up and whistle and hoot too.
Someone escorts me out, for I am a spectacle.
But I could not help myself.
The model winks at me as they drag me past her.
First introduced by God to Noah
the rainbow stands for diversity
for tolerance, for compassion
though today the last two
seem out of fashion
Leave it to a 'fanatic right-winger'
like Mr. Itamar Ben-Gvir
to remind us all, in Jerusalem or here
of heavenly values we all should hold dear
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