I am too fragile to let people penetrate into my inner world,
Too shy to complain about something, to express my dissatisfaction,
So sensitive that their words become burdens heavy to carry,
Too emotional to handle the turmoil that haunts my heart.
I am chaos, a strange one, always known as being unknown,
Silence and time spent alone are often my refuges,
Thus, my story becomes hidden, an untold and forgotten tale,
Yes, I am often misunderstood, as if I stay in my comfort zone.
But, honestly, it's not a comfort zone, but rather my own universe,
A place where I find myself, where I weigh my thoughts and dreams,
A sanctuary of silence where I can clearly hear my heartbeats,
An esoteric refuge where light and shadow dance in harmony.
Here, where reality and imagination intertwine in silence,
I build my world from dreams and unspoken desires,
A place where time loses its meaning and I can truly be myself,
Living in my own world, a story of unspoken words.
bird
black-wings
salmon-beak
most are scarlet
pronounced, 'E-'E-vee
species, Latin: clothing
Hawaiian royalty's capes
ritual end ere the kingdom
refuges establish safety zones
'E-E-vee's cheery someday is here, YES!
We the people of ‘Poetry Soup’ land,
Stand united, supportive yet very sad,
For we stand for peace love and no hate,
And cannot withstand,
Or understand,
We ask,
Why innocent people have to suffer and die.
God in heaven will one day reply,
We lend you our hearts and often cry,
And together with you heave a great sigh,
Whoever you are, we are an ally,
To humanitarian deeds we only comply,
And to worldwide rulers who have gone awry,
We Ask,
Why innocent people have to suffer and die.
Poetry Soup compared to any other land,
Are a much smaller band,
Our poems from our souls we supply,
Have no magic answer, wipe a tear from our eye,
We Ask,
Why innocent people have to suffer and die.
We pray that all refuges finally find peace,
And the bad must know, they are on short lease,
Their doings are insane,
Why in God’s name,
Are the infamous seeking power and fame,
We Ask,
Why innocent people have to suffer and die
No treaty is negotiable with the eager viral assassin.
Doubt the truth of gossip. What’s sadder than the unreasonable sucker?
Tribal outcries and worldly conceits are not impenetrable refuges.
May you all be sheltered and safe and may modern alchemy protect you.
May you have what you need and be happy.
We will rise or fall together.
Planes taking off
of the refuges, roaring in the air...
Boring the mornings,
harassing the afternoons and
frightening the nights...
and as a war scenario
actually it's eloquent fuss
normal noise, but that resembles war,
truly remembers....!
Remember
how many dawns
did we have?
how many mornings
did they belong to us?
how many afternoons
we carried to the meeting
of the nights...!?
remember
how many nights
did we do days?
were moments
only our... our
refuges outside this world...
Moments that belonged to us...
Moments when we said
that we were one
from the other...
We said we were
one body,
one soul...!
now mornings
not belong to us
anymore
we no longer have
the afternoons,
neither the nights
we have further...! But...
i still care
for our possessions,
all this still
in me lives...
and you what do
you say...?
suggestef song
https://youtu.be/S9OPdKM_2kE
where ARE you now - Justin Hayward (moody blues)
WINDBREAK TREES
Unchecked prairie wind cold
Engulfs our archipelago
Of barns and farms,
Small snuggled refuges
Swathed in birch, oak and ash,
Warm yellows oranges.
Still thick, hiding the rafters,
Wrapping our immersed walls,
Rooftop pennants - silent wafters.
Hugging close at quoin and sill,
A muffler around each recess
Stemming all the greying chill,
Slows the wind in its fold,
Protects against the virago,
Shields like a mother’s arms.
Mass for the instant, coffin for the hour.
Where is the strangeness lost and constancy refuges?
A flight of revelation in vague borders.
Absence, there’s so little of it. It´s masked.
It's hard to find where errors inscribe.
Thermal chambers can penetrate bricks.
When you're in the fridge, heart bark
becomes slow and the arrhythmia plays its melody
LET IT BURN
Let my love light the way
through all your darkened journeys.
Think of me
and the flame will always and forever
be there, shining,
like Polaris to guide you.
Luminous.
Let it burn on like a candle
in holy refuges,
burn on.
No disbelieving wind will extinguish
this pure love flame.
Burn on.
Let it burn from year to year,
from star to ever-shining star
through the eons.
Burn on.
Everything was easy and the good guy was me
Chasing bad guys through the cobbled streets of Galilee
The wine was sweet joy, the mad loving intense
Lead bullets were flying, lives lost makes no sense
I’m a man of action with a mission as you will see
I then gather myself in, a two bit actor, an old re-run movie
I help the hungry to eat, each and every day
I teach the lonely and sad, a much better way
I fueled the aircraft that swept poor refuges away
I tell the politicians my vote they will not ever sway
Just when it appears wrongs are righted, everything’s groovy
I see all the desolation, no relief, it’s just an old re-run movie
A Christian once told me the secret for life’s happiness
Was love your brothers and sisters, easy as yourself
Live a life of wholesome goodness and never ever strife
Put others before yourself and give thanks to God for life
For your sole purpose on earth was passing kind unbound love
Giving all the glory and thanks to our forgiving Lord above
Make each day honest with purpose, believe and be free
You’ll not be just another actor, in an old re-run movie
Pouring out the golden glow
the full moon of Vesak,
trying to melt in the blooming sky...
Given the courtesy of trees & breeze
Even the birds show their clarity
Reminds the glory of a legendary day
happened the birth, the enlightenment
& the Parinirvana of
the Lord Buddha...
The Vesak full moon...
It is time, it is sign
to collect good deeds
to prove yourself
Pay homage the Triple Gem
renew the Five Shiksha...
Follow the path,
where the Lord Buddha led...
The Buddhism, A philosophy
deep & logical, explains reasons...
All in all, pinched to a quote
"He who lives by the Dhamma,
is protected by the Dhamma"
Sadhu!! Sadhu!! Sadhu!!
Vesak : The full moon day of month of May, in celebration of the events of Lord buddha's life
The Parinirvana : The final deathless state of the Lord Buddha
The Triple Gem : The three Refuges (Buddha, Dhamma, Sanga)
The Five Shiksha : The five precepts
The Dhamma : The teaching of the Lord Buddha
Sadhu : I partake of it
These are the spaces I confide
These are the narrow crevices
These are the places I reside
These are the secure refuges
Upstairs attics with small windows
The quiet corners where I go
The hidden chambers no one knows
Downstairs cellars through secret doors
There I have my room for dreaming
Room to create and postulate
Pose questions and probe for meaning
Riddles and rhymes to contemplate
In there the world does not dictate
And there I have less room for hate.
The Arab Spring
Saddam Husain, Mubarak and soon Assad
will go… and we can be jubilant and call it
democracy and freedom.
But this does not include the Christians,
In Iraq there are hardly any left, in Egypt
they are under attack and when Assad falls
the Christian Arab will hounded, those who
are no able to escape…killed.
The rebels in Syria we now supply weaponry
to will, like they are doing in Egypt, be ready
to enforce their odious idea of Islam.
We, in the west must, if we are upright take
In the refuges and not let them fester in some
camps and fed by the Red Cross.
Give our Christian brothers a new spring, far
from the battlefield of hate and ignorance.
I always thought I could change
The line in my course's reach,
But whispers still floating on nights
Doom.
I've learned how to recognise
The limits
And to keep my lips sealed
With stamps cerous,
When Silence wishes to comfront
The echo of my screams.
Yet, I never knew how
To stay still above the sky's empire,
Or how to tune up the rythm of a night.
In dreams I hide,
Refuges wet are my illusions,
As I follow the stars for a destination determined.
My spirit climbs,
As the wine I never taste
To remind me the impossible that mocks
And fools the human imperfection.
At
gray fabric offices,
cubicles divide us—
turn us into
refuges
with mock privacy,
as overheard conversations
drip from lips
endlessly smacking.
Sometimes
it seems insanity
squared—
nothingness
randomly speaking
in tongues
to cubicles
with no one there.
We
thumb tack
individuality
loosely
to coarse fabrics—
arms stretched out
from wall to wall,
as mouths open
to mirrored
silences
we never
scream.
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