Deep thoughts pour over me
like whiskey over ice
the darkness is sharp, bitter
cutting through me
sending a shiver to my aching bones
I can hear my heartbeat
more like pounding
wild thoughts run
my mind overloaded
what should be tranquility
is like squirrels scrambling
a time of reflection
overpowered by constant doom
walking blind in darkness
while losing sight of
my original path
We had two, enormous Black Walnut trees
That would shed every leaf in the fall.
The lawn would be blanketed, brilliant yellow
As the cold, north winds would call.
The task was foreboding to say the least,
The work would be hard, I conceded.
To prepare for winter and snow to come
Raking the leaves was needed.
Many years since, in a distant state
I find myself raking again
And a memory stirred my heart anew
And with joy I remembered when….
After toilsome hours of gathering leaves
My body sore and aching,
A ritual started that to this day
Brings fondness of raking’s partaking.
My son and daughter would anxiously wait
For the leaves to be heaped in a pile.
At my, “Okay!” they would dive in headfirst
And be buried alive with smiles.
Laughter ensued, and joy was the mood
As our mountain of leaves exploded.
Rake ‘em again! Pile it up so we can
Dive in over and over, with Fall overloaded.
By Tom Valles
As I try to wish away, all the sadness that I feel;
As if a night sky's falling star, could grant me something real...
If only one small wish, of what's eluded me all this life thus far;
I'd wish for just some happiness, just a little in a jar;
So I could open as I needed, unload some sadness that I feel
Much like unloading bulky freight,
From a trains overloaded boxcar...
If only I could wish away, all the sadness that I feel,
I'd finish this life with certainty
And a soul full of new found zeal...
This is when the old and the young,
beasts and confraternal drunks
damn the consequences of death
lying porous on crossroads upon
bifurcated paths, fractured junctions
and ceremonial cul-de-sacs...
The time is immaterial,
so long as the traffic lights — the veggie-green,
the claret, and the urine-amber —choose their slow
blinking and rapid-eyelid movement carefully.
And moon might decide not to power its own light.
Tenebrous tracks then fill our eyes with the age of
sea monsters blinded by charcoal waves.
Need I hail the neon signs of bordellos!
And the city’s restless constellations!
They sparkle with rage and with the brio of rioting stars,
thus adding celestial films to our already overloaded eyes....
But that’s another story.
C’mon... we are no Deer or Asahel descendants!
Closely related to sloths, millipedes and snails,
we drag our feet, which in turn drag the volumes of
stupidity in us, aggravated by drams and midnight parties
held between a flowing weekend and a stagnant Thursday.
Overloaded van by
My nutty family!
Passengers, all ages,
Destination Disney
Land, pop songs blaring high
Reached Las Vegas instead!
The angels are overloaded.
And I'm crying aloud.
In marketplaces.
In new frontiers.
Sobbing incongruously
From station to station.
Losing my past
And letting the present
Run off without me.
I am draining my momentum.
I am lock-jawed behind locked bars
And still I sing like the only dove In town.
IF JESUS DIED ON THE CROSS WHO AM I NOT TO DIE
IF JESUS WEPT ON THE CROSS WHO AM I NOT TO WEEP
IF JESUS PASS THROUGH THE GRAVE WHO AM I NOT TO STINK
IF JESUS WENT THROUGH MY PAINS WHO AM I NOT TO BE PAIN
IF JESUS WENT, TOOK THE LASHES FOR ME WHO AM I NOT TO TAKE THE STROKES
IF JESUS CRIED FOR ME WHO AM I NOT TO CRY
FOR THIS MY EVERY LIFE HE PAID FOR BEFORE I WAS FORMED
IF JESUS WENT THROUGH DISGRACE WHO AM I NOT TO BE DISGRACED
HE WAS PUT TO SHAME, HE WAS MADE LAME, OHH AMAZING GRACE FROM THE ONE WHO WAS TAMED.
IF JESUS CARRIED THE CROSS WHO AM I NOT TO BE OVERLOADED
IF JESUS WORRIED FOR ME WHO AM I NOT TO BE WORRIED
FOR EVERYTHING OF ME, ON HIM, FOR ME HE TOOK THE BLAME, FOR IF JESUS COULD PRAY WHO AM I NOT TO PRAY.
HE TOOK MY WORST, FLUSHED THEM AND MADE THEM NEW SONGS.
OH WHAT MEMORIES OF JOY, IN MY LABOURS HE'LL FAVOUR.
WHEN I'M FILLED WITH LUST AND IM NOT SURE IF I'M STILL LOVED, HE WHISPERS MY NAME AND SAYS YOU'RE STILL MINE.
K.OLWENS
It's amazing what a change of scenery
Can do for our psyche
Our whole outlook on life changes
We see things in a different light
More positive, more accepting of others
And the similarities between us
A break now and then is a must
Clearing cobwebs from our overloaded brains
Without a change of scenery
We muddle through never experiencing
A bright wondrous world out there awaits
A form of therapy I guess you would call it
A time to recharge our tired old batteries
I strongly recommend this break from reality
You'll live a longer happier life
It's amazing what a change of scenery
Can do for your psyche
Flowers blooming,
people smiling,
everything happening at its best.
The sorrows are gone,
now there's no pawn.
Everything's great and no one's caved.
The brightness is overloaded,
everyone is happy.
Lost the dejection and no one's snappy.
EUPHONY
Words can just choose themselves
To be soft and pleasing to the ear
A new kind of respect is deserved
And a place in memory is reserved
Emotions flow as one sheds a tear
Like photos on overloaded shelves
Exiled from my distant homeland,
Where the days seemed bright,
Nights seemed peaceful and nice,
Where I longed for freedom and dignified life.
With dictators and militia in charge,
Where corruption and killings were at large,
Any opposition voice was crushed,
Freedom, Oh freedom, was only a dream.
With imminent arrest and execution,
Fleeing the beloved country was only option,
Somehow escaped incognito thru night wilderness,
Hitched many rides, got transported in boxes and tank containers,
Took wretched overloaded ferries, till I reached a free land.
Now I was a refugee seeking asylum,
Spent time in camps with miserable living conditions,
Finally, after three years, I was granted asylum,
I was free in an unknown world.
Still, I am actively seeking freedom for my homeland folks,
Freedom of speech, and democracy is a precious thing,
We will arouse sentiments of local folks to get their rights,
Do not cry my homeland, one day you will be free.
When asked a question to a student of Literature,
He made no move, stood still like a pitiful creature,
All his knowledge and intelligence faded away,
Darkness overloaded, there is no sign of any ray,
Oh, students, so full of youth and fire,
Your minds so quick, your hearts so dire,
But when it comes to Literature, you all sigh,
For love and romance is where your thoughts lie.
Shakespeare and Milton, they bore you to death,
But talk of love, and you'll hold your breath,
You'd rather swoon over words of sweet nothings,
Than, delve into the depths of great literature's workings.
You say you want to be poets and writers,
But all you do is a dream of love's delighters,
You'll never truly master this literary art,
If all you do is stare at your lover's shapely craft.
So go ahead, students, and chase your heart's desire,
But don't be surprised when you're left with nothing but mire,
For love may be grand, but literature is eternal,
And without it, your words will forever be infernal.
Muhammad Shahid Hussain
19 January, 2023
Midsummer vehemence stows heat for later
Solar film ominously watch hot arc
Tilt tracks trajectory, power cater
Stashes post sizzle to supply light dark
Socket slit subservient incubates
Arrow of assurance inserts cable
Voltage their pairing impressive creates
Self derived to electric capable
Autonomy admonished with a switch
Loins bearing in luxury breed evil
Informed about squalid impoverished
Ignore affluent vantage for reprieval
Overloaded homes groan under panels
Tainted rich roads tune rigid channels
16th January
Wealth rotten wattage
SOMETHING STRANGE
Ground floor of the
Engineering Building,
the elevator shaft wrapped
in a staircase, the entrance to
each on opposite sides
She was pretty, I thought, in a
blue hair, torn jeans counter-culture
sort of way, California sandals and a
colorful tee shirt, its clever slogans
over bouncing topography, her
black-rimmed glasses and overloaded
backpack signaling the intent to do
some serious work
She ignored the stairway, came striding
around to the elevator door, took one
look at me and without missing a beat,
completed the circuit and fairly fled
to the stairway like a curious squirrel
that discovered something strange
and then discerned the implications
My loss, I guess
I thought she was pretty!
Dark, it stays,
Dark , it grows,
Darkness, only I say
Coz, only darkness it shows.
My thoughts though deep
But, I do think dark,
My life had a grip
But, no bright sparks.
The rainbow of joy,
Nevertheless, I saw
But what I enjoy,
No one seems to know.
Those colourful flowers,
Is the only I could smell,
Those unleashed powers ,
Are mine, I could never tell.
Braille for blind,
Gave me sticks to walk,
But, what about that mind,
Which never thinks or talks?
My powers, my strength,
All proved to be dark,
My ability to glance,
Was taken away, with sudden ray of spark.
My life goes dark as clouds,
Overloaded with only blackish dust,
But, still someone calls loud
To say, brightness is for sure and it is must...
~ Akshaya...
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