Have you seen what's going on
in Afghanistan
and all that's gone wrong
caused by the Taliban
driving the country
into rack and ruin
with impunity
is what they're doing
it's what they've done
it would be good
to put them on the run
better yet eliminate
those Barbarians at the gate
yes it would be best
to dress each one
in a suicide vest
then blow their tiny minds
up the Khyber to Kingdom Come
What is mist in my demeanour,
makes me fray when I am touched,
the thread is just a little leaner,
when the rug is pulled too much.
Adjust the light,
reduce the glare,
the eyes will compensate the glow
with just the right influx of air,
the breath will gently ease its flow.
Call from the candle,
the patterned handle,
generates the heat of light,
and when it’s bare without a sandal
the iron brands you in the night.
Aware of the feast,
release the craving,
the best will save it in a jar,
wearers might warn us by waving,
when our engraving made its mark.
A stark reality to territory,
we covert the dark to rest,
the part that sparks our own clarity,
and every fight is but a test.
Caressed the stretched out wing and body,
the rack and ruin of a maiden flight,
the pressed at best now torn and shoddy,
unless the pest drifts to new heights.
Despite the knit of what was woven,
the proven cloth still dares to shred,
the holes return to join the stolen,
fitting to nourish on what was said.
Oh! Dear, what are we doing,
Chaos, Mayhem, Rack and Ruin
We have tipped the world upside down
Everyone now wears a frown
A puzzled look of disbelief
And grief
Sadness etched on every face,
Truth and morals replaced,
By evil deeds
That feeds the human race.
All seem out of place.
Keep faith that we will see,
The downfall of this enemy
All bad things come to pass,
And we will have peace at last
And run free!
Clouds turn to waves
I feel so close to him
See our sameness
our Madness and I wonder
as I climb
an unmistakable chain
of events whether My path
a collective effort
an anxious loneliness
avalanching - yet, I want to run
from responsibilities
caresses, from guilt
and from ordinary gardens, I want
what is possible within the
impossible to feel safe within
the danger of understanding me And loving him
The moment she will
free herself
from time and body Mind over matter
No longer feeling exposed
while naked on the bed
No longer feeling the clock or worrying about Dinner
The moment she stops running
and starts having a heart
to get what she wants while existence never fails
and places rack and ruin
The comfort to avoid pleasure
and stand by the window’s
light, to hug the curtain’s warmth while clouts turn to clouds
and black to powder green
So much sorrow and failure I see.
All are shipwrecked in life's angry sea.
Be it illness, divorce,
rack and ruin perforce.
The exception, of course... will be me.
4.
Each dawn, the cold steps back a pace,
In the lengthening light the cold steps back
As the lands rise fresh and free from deathlike sleep again,
To play the full young mother dressed in life itself,
Strolling through the warming, waxing sun.
Growth and generation give the lie
To the empty time, short before
Everything renewed proclaims exoneration from stasis
Breauty runs riot, freed from its long waiting
To declare its immortality again.
For he and she love grows anew
In hopes reborn spring's thaw
The heart's slow healing gathers force with the blooming
As they pull the threads of their lives back together,
Sewing them closer with trust and forgiveness,
Going on again in the thousand-odd ways
That make a single life of two.
Love trumpets again in smug triumph
Through the wakening world,
For it too is one of the old, strong forces,
The one that holds together what would fain break itself apart
To its own rack and ruin;
The ultimate surgeon,
Healing with slow steely cuts
Cauterizing the strangely sweet wells of pain
With unquenchable fire
That burns,
Promethean.
O horrible! most unwanted sting
but while thou're inevitable thing
Dragon of evil, never refuse to pay this
coming always wicked unseen jaws
Roaring, hissing, hurled, it came to prey
lad, lady, lone, rode to pray
visiting the toddler, lingering the adult
jamboree sing dirge on candle night
Emissary of patricide, matricide
messenger of fratricide and sororicide
rack and ruin like endless flood
A bier or mausoleum for it victims
ready to be taken to their catacombs
unseen hand knows no one
unseen hand, everyone recognize
Your governments throw your money to war,
But they have yet to even feed our poor.
Our roads are going to rack and ruin
But politicians cannot see what needs doing
They jump to fight the crimes of foreign states,
Whilst the crime at home reaches dire straits
They fly to fight for oils and earthly wealth,
While their own brothers wither through poor health.
Bureaucrats work through tall paper piles,
Bleeding your taxes with their slimy smiles,
Causing scandals and shocking news,
But the public is the one who’ll lose.
Now they nanny our very existence,
To which we are offering no resistance,
This is good for you and this is not,
Because our freedom we have forgot.
I distant memory it has now become,
A forgotten privilege forefathers won,
The right to choose our life and daily path,
With out the fear of high mighty wrath.
What will become of your children’s fruit?
When no longer they posses the choice of route,
Will they even have any choice at all?
Or will to the state all their choices fall?
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