Minor signs of anxiety
Sunk in the glass of lemon water
In the panic of the present time
Life flows in a calm stream
Along the damp walls of low storey buildings
My boat floats to nowhere
Under the arches of old bridges
Voices distorted by echoes ring out
What they say, what they are silent about
Is unimportant for I can't hear
I float along the quiet current
Through the cloudy waters.
Two-Storey House
One’s two-storey house on
Oak Street in
Elmwood
appeared after a
very rude and
unpleasant conjurer carried out a
magic trick.
You still live in the past
Like some old crutch dragging you further to your knees
Wake Up, I know what you see
The blood soaked underwear was just life, primal
The vultures stopped circling years ago
They died as well
Just like the love, remember
New horizons, that’s what they say
Make the distance pay
Yet, here we are again
Broken people
Glue us back together
The cracks still show
I once thought, build a three-storey house
Me at the top, you at the bottom, love in the middle
That way we both get a bit of something
Wouldn’t that be great
Few years from now
You walk up the stairs
Love is waiting
Wouldn’t that be great
Just don’t climb any higher
You left the past behind, remember.
Door slightly ajar
Pushed far
It's the second storey
Hosting a romantic story
Furniture spartan and simple,
Not stately like her, but dull
The whirring fan, overweening
Haughtily saying, 'I can'
The heat, still unrelenting
Source, the sizzling thing
Negligibly clad
She crazy & he going mad
Raising the mercury further
Between him & her
Her statue-like pose
There his heart goes
Slightly raised knee
The yoga posture of a tree?
He hugs the trunks
With her love, punch drunk
And the image stays
All nights, all days.
In a three -storey building, with great walls,
Lived a girl who spent her day with dolls.
One day, her family happened to leave in a car crash,
Leaving her alone with their Ash.
In their three- storey building.
Near lived a shoemaker of great skill,
Accompanied by self- satisfaction and a great will.
And a family of three to feed,
But not a three-storey building to reside.
The girl has everything, but happiness is on leave,
The shoemaker still has more memories to weave.
All was the plan of destiny,
To make the girl struggle at a tender age,
Or to keep the man happy without any penny.
Born in the last decade of the old regime
Born a twain year before our unity to bear
All the flourishing devoid credos and pro-
phecies that foresaw our dark current futures
Possessed by omens and the Serpent’s seeds
Of rebellion bad tidings from anyplace
Were dropping and chances dwindle. In the
Intervening time storey-buildings bloomed
Eggheads rose to make the era theirs with
Funds diverted abroad to squeeze the brinks
The illuminated then urinate on the poor’s
Offspring to connect them to the State how
Blind is this society in total discordance
Where are you?
Why do you let them do this to me?
I never chose to be born
in a housing scheme.
I never chose the life you gave me.
The “friends” I am surrounded by,
the opportunities thrown my way
– you know like wandering
around steep canyons of three
storey tenements with misery seeping
out most windows–
every night because YOU deemed WE
were unworthy of anything else.
Why do you cause me to
fear the flashing blue – the
wailing noise screaming
“me get - you now - me get - you now”
causing me to search for any wrongdoings
I may have missed in my own acts.
Lovely silver bracelets tying me up
in fear because of the streets I
tread and NOT the
acts I have done –
I am guilty because of a
post code
and YOU – justice - scream
out that I must prove
my innocence –
because of a post code.
Khaki lapped mangroves, sun bouncing transferred
Journeys bright flashes along branches texture
Conveyerbelt spot lights glide, bright pattern superb
Bath tidal shallow travels water's gold reflection
High heat subdued by horse tail tassled foliage
Sea loving pine hung in bunches, long drapes swung
Salty silt bed rigid roots drink in river knowledge
Steady light slide show rhythms calm dance among
Hectic city spectacle, hulk forty storey bulk surly
Gaped naked windows glare against cement facade
Dominate diminished dunes, emit shadows early
Rough road map arms umbrella mangroves in mirage
A million miles distance gifted in fifty metre gap
Delicate crescent of white sand, best spot on globe
Display of unreal critters crawl warm yellow sap
Dappled place of sanctuary spurs disco bulb strobe
25th September
Gold Coast, Australia
A print
Sometimes a simple copy can tell a storey
It is not about the artist but the sense of life
Lived far from busy city life.
I see a narrow road, and a woman sits in the sun mending
A pair of trousers, a cat, sits by her side
It must be April there is shadow and light.
If you follow the road and turn left you will see a field
Of red flowers and two girls playing a game
As children do and forget when adults.
This scene is the elusive dream of peace we have
A mind for, but all around them and unseen wars,
Blood and hunger are a reality.
But we will not think about this now, enjoy
The daydream this print represents.
( dreamed )
Down toward the moon beams and cross the arrowed crows,
Crying in their sun light as the morning magnet glows.
Flying proper diamonds as everyone now sees
The Yawning bed time storey is falling off the trees.
glowing people a crying dog And as no one beats the drum,
The Countless faces sing to me as madness has its fun.
The up shot is the down and the middle has no end
As the laughing shadowed figure beckons his oldest friend.
Get to where the bedlam is and wipe away that tear
For Impossible things swoop on wings feeding off your fear.
Gypsy wagon passing by as her sleeping chickens wave ??
This seems to mean,
to have them dream , if freedom’s what they crave.
A crack appears above the time But the colours keep on dancing
Eyes of green and most serene these children of everlasting.
You're there in the pond as like bloomed lotus
I's on the roof of two storey building
Saw you from far sight crossing paddy fields
Juvenile youth made mind embroidered path
I walked there step by step behind the dream
Empty hand seized the heart but with the tears
Rainbow came, peacock danced, cloud shed the rain
Vista was green, birds were happy flying
Bloomed flowers spread love fragrance by the breeze
I brought colorful flowers, songs of birds
Cowboy flute was there to make happy you
Wordsworth, Keats, Tagore were to beautify
But books of loving heart were full flyleaves
Though you made me wanderer by your love
O Dear, illusions, nowadays, I think
Hypnotized me the path of astray love
- December 20, 2019 CTG, BD
From the third floor of six storey building
I'm by the piercing sound of wedding ring
After the evening crescent moon eyes me
Path begets paths on my walking lonely
The true hate teaches me how to love you
From the womb of dark cricket shows me doe
I'm to your bared footsteps with baby moon
Modern public light brings you to drone cone
My pains come as the newborn winter cold
Though your shadow touches where I'm untold
You know by heart but the silence unknown
On the smile of your mother light has gone
In the dark, I count the bright star for you
Rickshaw bell awakes the love to renew
Aimless I'm only staring at the steps
Stairway to heaven becomes dreamless gaps
Your eyes move like butterfly here to there
Marriage horse afraid of time fractions bar
Every garden gives birth rose for beauty
Sorry; I'm on my path love of gypsy
-December 01,2019 Chattogram
PACHY ,PACHY PACHYDERM
by
JOHN M. ARRIBAS
I own a little ranchette, ftve acres, more or less
With a two storey colonial, gorgeously dressed
With a wrap around balcony on the second floor
With a large rose garden. Who could ask for more?
Green Bahamian shutters, with walls oyster white
The ultimate luxury for any upscale suburbanite
Did I mention the pool, with a three meter board
Or the alpine garage, where my two cars are stored
The manicured lawns and evenly trimmed hedges
A small pond, washed stones, over hanging ledges
A pure white gazebo in a french colonial style
Encircled by interlocked magenta colored tile
Near the corner there’s hundred year old elm tree
Only thing missing is someone to share this with me
GARDEN LOVE
Landscaped and designed lovingly by yours truly,
Had no option, as lightening hit my favourite tree,
One that my Dad planted, destined to fall
Cracked down the middle, five storeys tall,
Had been attacked overnight, died a death unduly.
Asked the tree fellers to leave stump one storey high,
Would not let my Fathers presence in the garden die,
So re-designed and re-landscaped our garden,
Ignored protests, proceeded, beg your pardon,
Gardener and I worked hard, all marvel as they pass by!
The god of this world is not wholly
Wholly good or wholly evil.
He does his best to avoid extremes.
With his cornucopia he feeds the paying multitudes
While the rest discreetly hunger. He nourishes,
Admixing with good food insignificant,
That is – as far as we can tell - insignificant
Doses of toxin. We must say grace mindful
That slightly poisoned food is better than none, and
“In the long run,” as one archdeacon of economics said:
“Who cares,?“ We’ll all be dead.”
Progress was not made for man, but man
Was made to serve progress. “What progress?” you ask.
Ah, the answer to that is far, far, above us,
Filed away on the fiftieth storey.
By the way, don’t get too worried
About that radioactive leak!
An expert has assured us we need expect
Only a couple of extra cancer cases at most.
And besides, don’t rock the boat
No the god of this world is not holy.
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