Hate doesn’t look like a monster —
it looks familiar.
People like me don’t need people.
I’m the person people want.
We point at the evil ones —
politicians, criminals,
anyone who hurts without reason.
They stare back believing
they’ve done nothing wrong.
Some know they’re cruel,
most just call it purpose.
Take religion:
eighteen thousand gods
worshiped on this planet —
more than the population
of a small town.
I’m an atheist,
judged for believing
in one less god than they do.
Everyone wants to be right.
It annoys me knowing
I’m not evil —
I’m perfect.
That’s why I don’t like people.
I’m one of them,
but I choose not to harm.
The dumb call that weakness.
I don’t fight,
don’t argue —
just smile when I’m bored,
nod when I’m done,
look for an easy way to leave.
And everybody walks away happy,
the pretty girl unsure
who she loves,
the man unsure
who he even is.
Meanwhile I stand aside,
quietly watching —
because the happiest people
are often the ones
who never think too hard,
the dumbest,
the vile,
the ones who never look too deep.
xo
The voice within, a whisper bruised,
Fights the noise the world has used
To carve a man from primal bone
To cage the beast, to leash the lone.
The mind, a mat where wars unfold,
Instincts wild, but nurtured cold.
They tame him not with chains or rods,
But with applause and wooden Gods.
He wears the mask, rehearsed and tight,
Performs by day, forgets by night.
Painted smiles, a jester’s role
Each laugh, a wounded soul.
Temptation hangs like a golden fruit,
But plucked, it tastes of ash and soot.
He dances for a wage, a name,
A line in ledgers, rank and fame.
Rituals rot in daily spin,
A prayer to clocks, a suit for sin.
Validation, the new divine,
Poured like wine to numb decline.
Frustration bubbles, seeks escape,
But lids get screwed in human shape.
No scream escapes the echo’s hold,
The cage is warm, the bars are gold.
A one-way street with silent bends,
From cradle’s cry to coffin ends.
And what shall grace his stone in sleep?
“He lived to please. He died too deep.”
Patterns
reveal natural Space redundancy
Voiced
an internal muse
appositioning
Pattern/Space Choice
As Rhythms
unveil Time's spirited
enculturing
multi-regenerational
interdependent
synergetic
annual EarthTribe
reviving bi-hemispheric repetition
Of Light Spirited Patterns
rooted in Natural In/OutSide Dark
NonDualistic Space.
I've grown quite weary of negative poems full of sarcasms
It's true we're separated on many issues by deep chasms
We see things differently; shades of gray, black and white
but please stop demeaning others when critically some write
about government and vaccines as if you're having spasms?
Stop accusing people of wanting to live in an ivory tower
What are you hungry for? Do you seek recognition or power?
Freedom still exists in America, but if you don't agree
say goodbye to her shores and come face to face with reality.
Negativity breeds doom and gloom from voices that are sour.
Write of the beauty of Nature, or the good things people do
There's no need to harp on and on. It's redundant to boo hoo.
If writing about politics and religion ruffles feathers of peers,
focus on something else. All you have to do is change gears.
Writing positive poetry is a goal I ardently hope we will pursue.
You are born with a purpose to serve,
Render service from your heart, in totality
Age would fail to guide you, miserably
If you don't display versatility with time.
Education shall prove a big redundancy
If you don't sail along the current of modernity.
Contemplate not on destroying others
With coercively authoritative complex.ity.
Humanity seeks your iota of attention,
Lay hands with a wee act to garner merits.
Life would becomes a humongous waste
If you cling on to your a venomous intention.
Spirituality is only a way to liberation
Of self and beyond, practice when you've energy.
Selflessness is the language of spiritualism,
Give yourself away taming your thoughts and action.s.
©?Khachab Dorji
Empress Queen
The first hit
like a bullet through the eye
standing tall
shoulders back
chin high
still
swallow
breathe
swallow
blink
calms her mind
allowing the words to penetrate
some just drift away
can't take them in
holds herself
silently calling her inner woman
professional to the end
they cannot see anything but strength
so strong in this her vulnerability
she disempowers them with it
empowers all the small people
such grace
holding your orb
nothing can touch you
You are Empress Queen.
I sailed from sea to shining sea,
To see what I could see,
But, what I saw,
Was not much at all,
So how can I ever be,
All I could ever be?
I had a little job once
it kept us all alive,
although we had some awful bills
just trying to survive.
Was not a life of luxury
I didn't earn a lot,
but we survived quite happily
and knew that some could not.
Then one day came the dreaded news,
“your jobs no longer there,”
I'm sure you know its for the best,
you see, "we really care!".
If we don't sack just half of you
there'll be no jobs for us,
so take this money, go away,
try not to make a fuss.
The package paid off all our bills
and now we're left with nought,
except a mortgage and two kids
plus several things we bought.
I'll get another job I said
I try both night and day,
but until then we must survive
on my wife's part-time pay.
And so we battle onwards
now accustomed to our plight,
I'm sure this winter of despair
must turn to summer’s light.
If you're contented in your work
and coping now quite fine
be ready if some future day
your job expires; .....like mine.
Ivor G Davies
How redundant is it
to give out a word to the wise.
Is it not the fools
who most need the advice?
Reflection injection,
I can’t do time so I bear the erections,
like bad economies and serious rejections...
They have relations of stations upon the masters of fakeness,
roaring awakeness,
upon baseness
upon rankness,
...I try hard but hear blankness,
waiting on makeshifts,
I live for the lie,
even if my body falls off of my mind,
just in-case I have to try-
I keep myself wide,
but creep slow otherwise,
beat up the wrong boast-
with character in my eyes,
ride motorcycles to the coast,
act rich,
and not even take a dip.
REDUNDANCY ON THE NEWS
First it was called a UFO in Kansas - eureka!
Then a UFO object in Kansas, near Topeka!
Later it was a UFO flying object (the terms are getting weaker)
Finally it became an unidentified flying UFO object(an identity seeker)
Ultimately no one could identify the unidentified flying UFO object.
I think there's a hole
or a leak in my head,
all the words have spilled out
and left parts of me dead.
I can no longer muster
an original thought,
the words that I find there
are weak and distraught.
The well has run dry,
to coin a phrase,
but that, too, is trite
and seen better days.
Seen better days?
I've done it again.
You could fit my creativity
on the head of a pin.
Another trite phrase!
I've truly run dry
and now I'll be gone
in the blink of an eye.
Oy.
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