A Cargo of Sins
A sojourn in the sleep,
Led me to the valley deep,
I passed through forest thick,
And high hills and crests,
Along with a saintly guide whom I never knew.
I was led to the front of a cave,
With a huge arched entrance,
It seemed a long dark channel
Connecting to the other zone.
I saw men of massive size,
Entering into and pouring out;
They resembled chimpanzees more than the human figures.
All dressless, and moved with uncovered limbs,
With no sense of shame or disgrace.
Then I saw descending from the steps,
Men and women, all naked,
With cargoes upon their backs.
The loads were not of timber but of logs of men,
Bundled in bundles,
With no eyes, no noses and no ears;
And without extremities.
They were too abominable to see,
Their sable shaved boneless bodies
Limbered as they walked.
The weights were inseparable;
They dragged where they moved.
The saintly guide who brought me at the spot,
Whispered into my ears the secret,
“They are the sinners;
Pulling the loads of their willful wrongs,
And the chimpanzee-men,
Their attendants, employed to watch,
Lest they should have a rest.”
poem by Muhammad Shanazar
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Six-Toed Tina
There was a young queen who knew a boy's love,
who ruled a great yard and led a small pride.
From her extra toes to her noble ears,
she was incongruent in scope and size.
Yet her purr was the world to one odd child,
for whom every word was a bur unfair.
Calico and beige, with a mange unfair,
she appeared unkept and bereft of love.
Even the boy, so different a child,
was led astray by his diffident pride,
and couldn't quite take her strange paws and size,
until loving rubs made him scratch her ears.
Satiny soft- those tall Bastet-like ears-
made her nightly hunts endeavors unfair,
for Tina teased out sounds tiny in size-
even large rodents in the throes of love-
and dragged them writhing to the grateful pride,
who devoured them whole in front of the child.
Then something died deep inside that strange child,
as a slate of new sounds pricked up his ears.
He sought sensation and elusive pride-
baring it all yet becoming unfair.
Cool was he, and insensitive to love,
paying no heed to it's presence or size.
Yes, women- not felines- zero in size-
became the prize for this once awkward child,
who delighted himself in faking love
'til news of Tina at last touched his ears,
and life was again an affair unfair,
ruled by the cruel and their f***ed up pride.
So clutching her image, he faced the pride,
dreaming of justice, caliber and size,
and what he'd do to those humans unfair-
but now he was grown and not a small child,
and his soul soon mellowed as did his ears.
He'd bury poor Tina and try to love.
Dark days unfair would again test his pride,
but knowing of love would limit their size,
and the child moved on with enlightened ears.
poem by Taylor Rosewood
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14 Angels
When at night I go to sleep
14 angels watch do keep
Two my head are guarding
Two my feet are guiding
Two to whom tis given
To guide my steps
To heaven
To guide me
When at dawn my eyes do wake
14 angels my peace do take
Two there are who need me
Two there are who feed me
Two who sway before me show me
All Ive known
Is wrong, that I am
Not me
Two there are to take my soul
Away from here
To guide my steps
song performed by by Information Society
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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After a yaksha-gana performance
They wore elaborate masks
Resplendent clothes studded
With dazzling stone work
Each time they moved into
The light zone, I blinked my eyes
They whirled like colorful tops
Let loose by a playful child
And in no time stood steady
To deliver a dialogue
I failed to comprehend
There were men women
And men dressed as women
In one corner stood the drummer
And the singer was at his high
Least concerned of the microphone
In the dark auditorium I sat:
An abstract painting of no symmetry
Hanging on a lackluster wall
As if to wash off my guilt
I self-consciously handed
A five hundred note and
Quickly walked out
The drum still beating in my ears
Following me like a tireless shadow
02oct2010
22.44hrs
poem by Indira Babbellapati
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Amateurs of Heaven
Two lovers to a midnight meadow came
High in the hills, to lie there hand and hand
Like effigies and look up at the stars,
The never-setting ones set in the North
To circle the Pole in idiot majesty,
And wonder what was given them to wonder.
Being amateurs, they knew some of the names
By rote, and could attach the names to stars
And draw the lines invisible between
That humbled all the heavenly things to farm
And forest things and even kitchen things,
A bear, a wagon, a long handled ladle;
Could wonder at the shadow of the world
That brought those lights to light, could wonder too
At the ancestral eyes and the dark mind
Behind them that had reached the length of light
To name the stars and draw the animals
And other stuff that dangled in the height,
Or was it the deep? Did they look in
Or out, the lovers? till they grew bored
As even lovers will, and got up to go,
But drunken now, with staggering and dizziness,
Because the spell of earth had moved them so,
Hallucinating that the heavens moved.
poem by Howard Nemerov
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A Prayer
Often the western wind has sung to me,
There have been voices in the streams and meres,
And pitiful trees have told me, God, of Thee :
And I heard not. Oh ! open Thou mine ears.
The reeds have whispered low as I passed by,
' Be strong, O friend, be strong, put off vain fears,
Vex not they soul with doubts, God cannot lie ' :
And I heard not. Oh ! open Thou mine ears.
There have been many stars to guide my feet,
Often the delicate moon, hearing my sighs,
Has rent the clouds and shown a silver street;
And I saw not. Oh ! open Thou mine eyes.
Angels have beckoned me unceasingly,
And walked with me ; and from the sombre skies
Dear Christ Himself has stretched out hands to me ;
And I saw not. Oh ! open Thou mine eyes.
poem by Lord Alfred Douglas
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A Walk Within A Dream
I saw a building old as days
With countless rooms laid within
Walls with cracks and ivy rose
From the earth before me
Slowly I entered that place
Air ran heavy, thick to my lungs
With each taken step
I walked the rooms and halls
Some bare stripped of life
Others as though never touched
Some like a memory kept
Where instruments of music
Lay dust covered, silent
Still brought a song to thought
I saw paintings and pictures
Rich in a veil of colour
Like all the seasons held at once
A beauty found, celebrated
Then a sadness felt
In the shadowed halls
Empty with a loneliness
Another room had windows
Where a wind whistled through
I heard a birdsong carried
It passed in a second step
I thought no more of it
I descended and climbed stairs
Became lost and yet found
I knew this place well
However strange it came to me
Yes I knew this place
I felt the walls, ageless
I smelt the air, familiar
The ground beat to a pulse
A rhythm only I knew
On this my first visit
To that building which once rose
I felt at home, comforted
I looked back became held
As though I had never moved
The entrance still behind me
In spite of all the rooms and halls
Which I had walked
In spite of every step I counted
Numberless, countless, endless
I remained unmoved
Yet moved still moved
My eyes closed I felt myself pulled
Away from that old building
The rooms and walls
The cracks and the climbing ivy
That whistling wind
The music and colour
I awoke and thought
Had I walked a dream
Built upon my heart, soul, mind
Had I just walked myself
No answers came
I lay awake lost in thought
poem by Matthew Holloway
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The Sepulchral Voices
Farther than the seven seas,
And seven forests thick and green,
Flew I over the mountainy crests;
Over the gorges, winding deep,
And unexplored canyons dark,
Rested I on the plain high;
Beside the house made of glass,
With tall trees in the lawn,
Where the big busy parrots,
Were spoiling the fruit unripe.
Leading to the subterranean cave,
At the entrance I did halt,
For close it was with sills long,
Of transparent glassy stones.
Waited I long for the summon,
From the Lord of the House,
But returned depressed, despised,
When sepulchral voices came to me,
“He is busy, He can not see.”
poem by Muhammad Shanazar
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Kristallnacht
In the dead of night
when the moon was high
and crystals were energized
from natures moon,
energy to give life.
But this energy was dark and black,
and midnights' hidden faces,
showing shameful deeds.
Masked by moonlight.
Secret evil always hides its face,
and dark, unsigned letters,
whispered conversations, balaclava.
And breaking glass with running steps.
Truth will always face the Sun,
and not need back lane path,
like thieves.
But call at front in day.
Shame upon you crystal sinners,
in your shame filled deeds
of darkness, empty hollows echo,
a dead tree, rotten bark.
poem by Bernard Kennedy
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Perchance to Sleep
She remembers how he
Would watch her sleep
His eyes running over her
From toes to the top of her
Head and she pretending
To be asleep taking control
Of her breathing being the
Actress putting on a show
Keeping her limbs just so
And now and then to move
Them as she would in sleep
No doubt move a little shift
About and she recalls how
Once he touched her and
She had to keep utterly
Frozen her limbs stiff trying
To keep him out of her inner
Being and that touch he gave
Lingered over her thigh and
Then moved along it softly
As if he wanted to wake her
Gently not wake her in a start
Not to get all wound up and
Frightened and that time he
Nearly caught her out nearly
Broke up the acting put her
On the spot but she managed
To keep control of her nerves
And limbs and opened her
Mouth just so as to utter
Nonsense words sleep induced
Ramble and he took no notice
And she caught sight of him
Through a slit of her eyelids him
Standing there that stupid look
On his face his eyes wide and
The whites almost drowning
The dark pupils and now knowing
He was out of the room she can
Open her eyes and breathe out
And sniff the air and sense he'd
Been standing there the smell
Of his cigarette breath and his
Lack of personal hygiene and
She moves her limbs and her
Jaw and wiggles her nose and
Toes preparing herself for when
He comes back and she resumes
The show not wanting sex with
Him but not wanting him to know.
poem by Terry Collett
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Will winds come?
Sky was dark.
Holding thick bundles of rain inside
waiting for winds to
open bundles of rain,
take away heavy bundles
and free me to play with
white cool light clouds.
Sky was worried.
Will winds come and free me
from this dark bundles of rain
making me feel tired
making my knees paining?
When will those winds come?
How long I have to carry these dark bundles?
Waiting for winds
will I fall down
with tiring weakening bundles
of these dark clouds
in my hand?
Even the sun is moving down
with colour changing to red
going for rest for night.
When will these winds come?
Am I destined to fall down
tired and exhausted
with ever increasing burden
of these dark clouds in my hand?
10, September,2008
poem by Thomas Viruvelil
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On long haul flights I always drink loads and loads of water and eat light and healthy food.
quote by Lisa Snowdon
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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California
Why should he not have been allowed
To thread with peaceful feet the crowd
Which filled that Christian street?
The Decalogue he had observed,
From Faith in Jesus had not swerved,
And scorning pious platitudes,
He saw in the Beatitudes
A lamp to guide his feet.
He knew that Jonah downed the whale
And made no bones of it. The tale
That Ananias told
He swore was true. He had no doubt
That Daniel laid the lions out.
In short, he had all holiness,
All meekness and all lowliness,
And was with saints enrolled.
'Tis true, some slight excess of zeal
Sincerely to promote the weal
Of this most Christian state
Had moved him rudely to divide
The queue that was a pagan's pride,
And in addition certify
The Faith by making fur to fly
From pelt as well as pate?
But, Heavenly Father, thou dost know
That in this town these actions go
For nothing worth a name.
Nay, every editorial ass,
To prove they never come to pass
Will damn his soul eternally,
Although in his own journal he
May read the printed shame.
From bloody hands the reins of pow'r
Fall slack; the high-decisive hour
Strikes not for liars' ears.
Remove, O Father, the disgrace
That stains our California's face,
And consecrate to human good
The strength of her young womanhood
And all her golden years!
poem by Ambrose Bierce
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Monkey Business
Behold the agile chimpanzee
swing easily from tree to tree
He sees no reason he should be
related in any way to me
I am quite sure the Chimpanzee
would deny vociferously
That men spring from his family tree.
Regard it as stupidity.
A claim which has to be denied.
Which touches on his family pride
the chimpanzees are satisfied
that followers of Darwin lied
Despite the similarities
men aren’t as wise as chimpanzees.
28-Mar-08
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Oh! Man Mend The Ways Old
I once in a dream flew into the world of future,
On the wings of fear, with the heart of agony,
And landed into a burnt zone,
Remotely resembled the world of man,
All wrapped in grimness of smoke.
I beheld men and women:
The remains of nations in rags,
All grubby with harrowed faces,
Impressionless eyes they had in the sockets.
They were at war against one another,
Not for high objectives nor to subjugate the Earth,
But for water, food and zones of fresh air.
They all carried the charred clubs,
Or the sable stones in their hands,
When they were at rest they shivered with cold,
Oh! Man mend the ways old.
poem by Muhammad Shanazar
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Frost Fire
Toes deaden.
Breath smelts to lead.
Hot needles dance in fingers.
Backs turn to snails.Ears hum coffee.
The fire swaggerswith logs
andwith a shrivela crack
a satisfactionyour simmer heart
sips
from high in the skya seething sleep.
poem by August Stramm
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I Shall Not Be Moved
You will take my breath away,
Gild my heart with your love-
I shall not be moved.
My eyes will gloat at your sashay,
My lips will droll at your pulchritude-
I shall not be moved.
You will come with religions of faiths,
A heap of mountains you have moved-
Still I shall not be moved.
You will give me strongest of philtres,
Your touch will erect my one weakness-
But I shall not be moved.
You will light my darkest paths,
Move me here to there-
Yet I shall not be moved.
You will sing our song,
Your love for me will exceed eternity,
Even then, I shall not be moved.
You will live for me,
Die for me- For the last time-
I shall not be moved.
poem by Isunge Mwangase
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Making Love With You Inside My Mind
this morning
i watch the sun rise
between
your breasts
this morning i shall
watch sunset
between your thighs
i shall sleep
on your valley
i shall whisper
my songs of love in your ears
there will be a choir
of moans
and then the perfect silence
resides
in the chambers of
our exhausted bodies and souls
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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In The Well-Cut Blouse
Whether the hills are high for the valley is deep
Or the valley is deep for the hills are high,
I am at loss to know when my eyes fell on
The woman's breasts held in the well-cut blouse.
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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The magic forest
At the Bois de Boulogne lies magic
Magic that cannot be evitable
Magic that lures people into the evergreen forest
In the forest, soft earth is like a comfy bed
Meadows of grass are green sheets for the bed
If you happen to lie down on the bed
The sunlight hugs your body gently like a mother
Your eyes are heavy weights, unable to keep your eyes open
You fall into the sweetest dream as time goes by…
Night walked into the forest as day walked out of the forest
The pale moon is like a glass eye of a witch staring at you
The dark magic falls into the forest
Lusty monsters fill the magic forest
And the magic forest falls asleep…
I Just Threw Out The Love Of My Dreams
Im so tall, cant get over me
Im so low, cant get under me
I must be all these things, m
For I just threw out the love of my dreams
Hes in my eyes, hes in my ears
Hes in my blood, he is in my tears
I think of, and see him every day
Even though morrow he still moved away
Oh hes got me wondering
My rightousness is crumbling
Never before have I felt this way
No one is right, want for him to stay
I must be made of steel
For I just threw out the love of my dreams
Hes in my eyes, hes in my ears
Hes in my blood, he is in my tears
I think of, and see him every day
Even though morrow he still moved away
Oh hes got me wondering
My rightousness is crumbling
Oh hes got me wondering
My rightousness is crumbling
And I see him every day
Even though my loves walked away
Hes in my eyes, hes in my ears
Hes in my blood, he is in my tears
I must be made of steel
For I just threw out the love of my dreams
song performed by by Weezer
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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