Provoked Poems

December 7th 1941

December 7th 1941 
Japan invades Pearl Harbor. 
Another useless war. 
Attack on American soil. 
Surprise military strike on December 7th 1941. 
Oahu, Hawaii, a neutral area. 
7:48 am with 354 fighters in the air. 
Dive bombers, torpedo bombers. 
2,400 Americans from our Military were killed. 
The damage is done. 
For what reason? 
War was provoked. 
The deadliest foreign attack on the U.S. 
War over territory. 
War is never ending. 
Always about oil, power and land. 
Foreign leaders with no spiritual direction. 
They brought this to our front door step. 
History of another war. 
(President in1941) 
(Franklin D. Roosevelt)  
Still to this day, enemies continue to fight. 
Over oil and territory. 
Nothing ever changes. 
What a sad day of judgment.

Lawless War

Lawless War 
A mortal war. 
A compass to nowhere. 
Too many secrets. 
The county is divided. 
Death never ends. 
Young men are misleading. 
Leadership in turmoil. 
Piece talk always fails. 
Raining bombs. 
Provoked rebels. 
Camouflage paint. 
War never ending. 
Down word spirals. 
Gun powder. 
Leaders chasing death. 
Manipulation. 
War over land and power. 
Greed leading to a nuclear war. 
World War III. 
Death so many. 
Unspeakable measures. 
It’s in our nature to destroy ourselves. 
Conflict on every turn. 
Another story to burn.

DOOM

Today My 'Echo'
Called Me:
Sugar-Plum!
Relatively Un-Provoked!

I Wasn't Sure She
Liked Me! Even....
 
It Felt Good!

***

We Can't Win.

-Gray Squirrel

06-29-2025

I Miss You

I missed you today.
Not the one that noticed my clothes, 
or commented on the way I wore my hair.

Not the one who said it was my fault,
that I provoked it, 
that I should have been different.

Not the one that turned away 
when I needed help most.

I missed the you that held me when I cried,
who encouraged me when I doubted.

The one that always showed up 
who made me feel less alone.

The one who took time to know me,
That never made me question
whether I was worthy to be seen.

I missed you, 
even though we’ve never met.

The Ghost She Left Behind

The world got caught under her breath
They could never hear her precious mumbling, only realized when she left

One second she was there
One second she was floating in timeless air

In a wisp of whimsical space
She would show her elegant face

A polaroid of a perfect smile
Commanding regretful tears and remembrance of all the distant years

Her blood was on the hands of many, 
No one predicted the coming tragedy

Her life not quite a blissful blur
But rather a silent stab of sadness

She left no note or collective clues 
That might have calmed you

No lying lyrics that provoked pointless pity in 
Some that might have said torturing her was comedy

She only left a small reminder to anyone who could find her

And that is this…

“Dying is easy my friend, living is harder.”

Pillar of Salt

Pillar Of Salt
 Do you know the story of Sodom and Gomorrah?
 Let me tell you.
 Two cities destroyed from wickedness.
 Only one family fled to the mountains.
 Anger provoked by the sins of men.
 Ancient cities in the sand.
 A crime against nature.
 Disobedience toward each other.
 Evil throughout the streets.
 People giving burnt offerings.
 Soon there will be stones raining down.
 Spare no one with fire and brimstone.
 Grave sin to mankind.
 Through homosexual, all will suffer and die.
 The city and roads became a furnace.
 No one was left.
 Dominion of judgment.
 This is Sodom and Gomorrah.
 She turned around to look.
 She became a pillar of salt.
 The world is falling apart.
 A sinful nation to the grave.
 (Genesis 19:23-26)

A Wilderness of Mirrors

You’ve read about the Victory of Pyrrhus,
who said, “I beat them, but I’ll tell you flat:
(he hadn’t seen this motor-bike with mirrors)
we won’t survive another one like that!”

I asked the rider why he needs reflection
on such a scale. “You’d rather I rode blind?”
Approaching cars, he told me, need detection:
“I’ve got to know who’s coming up behind!”

Next question: “Disadvantages accrue?”
This one provoked, in him, a rueful smile.
“My gasoline’s expensive, this is true:
I burn a gallon, every single mile!”

My will

I will not be subdued 
by either the
Inter or intra
Fears of this world

Those fears send from 
The external 
For clearly and 
With own eyes
Seen not internal

The internal are 
Natural in all 
Provoked by the external
To conform 

My will is to trust God 
Alone and Faith 
My pillar
To do just that.

Why should I care

26.9.2024
Why did I care what would happen,
If I sent him the message verbal or written.
He provoked me after what he did to me unfairly.
I just wanted him to get my message.
"I said no more too.
Not because of your threat to call the Police,
But simply I have nothing left to share and care about this friendship.
It is a shame it ended like this"
Remember, it was me who first suggested to terminate it.
You never replied and I had no idea what you wanted.
I could not read your mind nor know what you have decided.
Who did you thing you are?
Exploited my caring nature.
Remember, to me, you are just a guy with excellent IT knowledge.
Not only you had spoiled the friendship,
But also destroyed part of my life journey.
You have changed completely into another person. 
Since I first met you at your second home.
Rather pity and ashamed what has happened.

Goaded, ego gloats in air

Stoked and stirred up, fire flares,
If provoked, cobra scares,
Hurt by loss of glory,
Startled, beasts show fury,
Goaded, ego gloats in thin airs.        
_______________
Translation |11.01.2025| ego, self, fire, snake/cobra

 Poet’s note: Sanskrit has thousands of verses of wisdom called Subhashhitam. Ego identifies with (lower) self--man, bird or beast. If hurt, it reacts. When stoked fire flares. If provoked, cobra tries to scare. So does human ego. The transliteration of the Sanskrit verse follows:

Jvalati chalite indhana agnih, 
vi-prakrtah pannagah phanaam kurute |
Praayah sve  mahimaanam kshobhaat
prati-padyanta jantavah || 218 ||

Jolted by bolted days

Beauty painted by nature in the clouds,
A big umbrella that shields not the crowds,
Pitter-patters and everyone is soaked,
Thereafter, sunlight anger is provoked.

Brushes not coloured by oil or water,
Yet hues of blue, pink and red on blotter,
Leaving the painter's brush so sirenic,
Just to make the birth of the night scenic.

Dark veil then covers twilight's pretty smile,
With its splendour taken away in style.
The veil was lifted and I was jolted,
Twilight just made another day bolted.

Old age beckoned and reality dawned.
Fulfilment of my heart desires prolonged.
Worked hard but the reward is so little,
My patience has become very brittle.

Since my life is by now in its twilight,
Nature is not considering my plight.
Nowhere afresh again for me to start.
This truth has left a deep hole in my heart.

MUSICAL EUPHORIA

Angelic melody play to thy senses,  
Rejuvenating with a magic wand's hold,  
Metamorphosing withered leaves to vibrant hues,  
Breathing life into a soul once cold.

Lulling a baby to a dreamer’s paradise,  
Lyrical notes entice heartstrings,  
Defiant of language, it mesmerizes,  
Transcending continents with soft frills.

From dawn to dusk, it jingles and jangles,  
Infusing joy regardless of genre,  
Inertia diffused at the festivals,  
Dance provoked amidst splendor.

A Thunderstorm

When you don’t expect a thunderstorm,
It sure can take its toll,
Being at the mercy of a power
Out of your control.

You can hide or duck for cover
Or confront it and get soaked,
For the rage that it embodies
Needs no cause to be provoked.

And eventually it passes
Which, for everybody’s sake,
Is a welcome calm, but repercussions
Linger in its wake.

FATAL DIVORCE

They were the definition of marriage
My parents' union seemed flawless
Their bond was built on courage
In their hearts, love was fearless.

But that night, the thunder struck
I saw a broom and a hen weaponized
I saw the danger anger and trust provoked
The story of their divorce, never fully realized.

Their separation to me was scary
Though I wasn't in anyone's custody
My childhood felt a motherless void
Without God's grace, my light would've been destroyed.

Yet, their relationship is a book
Every page filled with wisdom
A crystal-clear stream
From which I'll always draw knowledge.

Twelve Bells at Midnight

In the vortex of a maelstrom, I was rudely thrown
drowning in turbulent waters for an error I bemoan,
a blunder of loving someone who chose to whittle
away at my heart until it became fragile and brittle

Bereft beyond the point of caring if I lived or died
My eyes were scarlet, burning from tears I'd cried
But they became transfixed, immutable on a fire stoked
for my normally tenuous demeanor had been provoked

I was a genteel lady, who demurely acquiesced to love
but it was time for me to throw down the gauntlet glove
I was chaffed by what had been just an interlude for him,
an escapade, a mere dalliance, a rascally romantic whim

I drew a rough sketch; in likeness of my vagabond swain
an abstract portrait, in Picasso's style, the face of my bane
Black eyes were hollow, blind orbs that would never see
that his trifling peccadillo tryst was a brutal betrayal to me

The painting was delivered as twelve bells pealed midnight
I watched as he unwrapped it, but carefully kept out of sight
A formidable opponent I had become to his knavish ways
In the moonlight his face turned pale; his eyes were glazed

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