Satish Verma, 28 november 2012
It was inheritance
of age
before the mirrors
for the language of windows.
The high rise buildings
always cast a pall of gloom.earth seems to slide
and I cannot reach the sky.
I want to say
what I did not want to say.
The lake has gone in a siege
till infinity.
Wrap me a sharp knife
I will cut my tongue today
to offer to goddess of shame.
The light has gone away from my heart.
Satish Verma
patty turner, 28 november 2012
day by day you're getting lost in this maze,
every wrong turn gives you pain.
its slowly making you go insane.
you don't know what real whats fake;
you see a little girl in red drinking some tea.
being confused you ask her if she knows how to get out,
she looks you up and down.
then she screams bloody murder.
the heges turn to blood,
the sun goes black,
the sky goes gray.
then you fell it,
its cold but warm yet you don't know what it is.
then you look down and she had your heart in her hands,
everything is going black.
you hear her laughing,
then she whisper in your ear saying.
"this is what you get for hurting mommy."
louis gander, 27 november 2012
They're Patriots, they're fighting! But Lord, who understands?
Their gift to heirs was liberty, was fragile in their hands.
A liberty that's priceless and was paid with hero's blood,
but liberty that's fragile and as latent as a bud.
Some day the waves of grain will grow in nation gold and bright -
but now the revolution's fight is questioned whether right...
I see a sacrifice so great, from will that never bends,
I see the loss of families, their farms and closest friends.
I see that they were tested greatly under Washington -
and they were tested all the more in battle that was won.
Yes, tested with the seasons that brought hot and cold extremes,
and tested with great trials that had crushed the smallest dreams.
So many lost a limb or two. Some others met their grave,
but great were all the freedoms that to us they freely gave.
Now we'd enjoy these freedoms, if - we care to really own
and guard with every vote so that our freedoms could be sown -
to later generations that would seize the free baton -
to hold our fragile liberties so freedom carries on.
Years later, I saw clamoring and stumbling unsure -
and one by one God-given rights were trampled here under -
the feet of every voter who demanded more and more -
the money clear from Washington 'til all of us were poor.
They argued, as in protest and they fervently appealed,
to eat up necessary seed for next year's harvest yield -
and voted for more cretins who would place their final bet
on wasteful obligations that would pile up more debt.
Naive we are and so deceived with all the 'pc' spin,
"He'll give you lots more money if you'll simply vote for him!"
They buy our selfish, greedy votes and bribe us all until
elected, they're securely fixed right there up on 'The Hill'.
So arrogant, those cretins are, that they need never hide.
They know their office is secure and wear this thing called 'pride'.
They promise us a silver moon (that's moldy old swiss cheese -
with holes in thick promises that shift there with the breeze).
So powerless we all become when they tie up our hands.
They hasten us and chasten us - yet no one understands..!
There's just no more that we can give, for they have taken all -
in taxes, fines and hidden fees, licenses, et al.
They rushed so quickly to the aid of those too big to fail -
and then ignored the rest of us that they refused to bail.
Collecting campaign contributions from the greedy ones -
they then give them the very last of our few meager funds.
Refusing to repent and out beyond the furthest hope,
I see a country dangling from an unforgiving rope -
from poor results that legalized and drove our morals loose.
I see inflated, selfish heads above a tightened noose.
The feet still kick and wiggle as we take our final breath -
and offer no assurance from a sad and certain death -
because we still refuse the God of patient, certain wrath!
Oh, how can we complain when "we, the people" chose our path?
We've mortgaged off the waves of grain and every native park!
We've mortgaged every standing tree - the branches, trunks and bark!
We've mortgaged off Mount Rushmore and the Lady Liberty -
who shines so very beautiful! It's pure insanity!!
I see a sacrifice so great - but our 'will' never bends.
We lose our farms and families - we lose our closest friends.
I see we're harshly tested from a Washington DC -
and we'll be tested all the more until our freedoms see...
We're Patriots! We're fighting! But Lord, who understands?
Our gift to heirs, true liberty, is fragile in our hands.
©2012 louis gander - ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
http://www.ganderpoems.org/
-------
Satish Verma, 27 november 2012
In the dust storm
a discarded moon
sat in my lap.
Then internal rhythm
crashed.
Amorphic I would not find the music
of words translated into a kiss.
Gold started weeping
in my hands.
The clouds will rest
after committing a sin,
of letting out the sun.
Satish Verma
Gert Strydom, 26 november 2012
(after C. P. Cavafy)
In life there is a time to either say
on a very particular kind of day,
yes or no, to love someone or let it go,
that choice may look insignificant, even so
have consequences which bind with conviction
might be of love at a time a true depiction.
Who refuses might not be really loved,
might full of some selfishness be stuffed
and yes and no, or to live for the moment,
might sound insignificant as a measurement
of being just and true, but no contradiction
might be of love at a time a true depiction.
(Reference: “Che Fece … Il Gran Rifuito” by C. P. Cavafy.]
Gert Strydom, 26 november 2012
With a tingle that rushes in my blood
you run up to me with a great smile
when I arrive from the aeroplane
and again I am astonished by your beauty
when a crowd of people move around us
and we embrace and are lost in each other.
Moments stretch out almost eternally
when we disrupt the movement of other passengers,
when pairs of eyes stare deeply into each others
as if we see each other for the first time,
when time keeps lingers as if it does not exist
and we embrace and are lost in each other.
Gert Strydom, 26 november 2012
May we learn to love as deep and as true,
that not a thing can remove me from you
that all our words and actions only prove
that we both do truly know how to love,
when in old age we are, our days do pass,
in our love, everything might be as it was.
May we love each other with no decay,
that each tomorrow be better than today
and when all of life has run its own course,
in death there will be sleep and no divorce
and when we stand before our God at last
in our love, everything might be as it was.
Goldie Lopez, 26 november 2012
You have me at your disposal…
like garbage being tossed aside.
With a fowl heart you stroked rebellious pride.
Cleaning out your closet tossed aside I lay,
toyed with my emotions…
no longer your prey.
Like junk hurled into the garbage,
worn out object, no longer in use.
Leaving, looking through waterfall blues,
facing a lonesome gloom.
No longer spoken, broken hearted reflects me.
Conjuring love…
though never for keeps.
Again I’m like your garbage…
thrown away like autumns leaves.
You’ve loved me, than left me filled with regrets,
not one responses... did I ever get.
How love can use, mislead and abuse,
such a tender fragile soul?
So much time wasted, only you controlled.
You’ve concluded this story,
near the ending of the book.
Looking back now... all I see
is garbage chucked, of nameless old things.
Throwing a diamond within rubble, amongst falling debris.
Goldie. Lopez
Satish Verma, 26 november 2012
Driving green fire
out of melodies.
It was not make-believe
not mannerism
but smell of autopsy.
A pseudo-elegy starts
at burial site.
Frugality of dust
first decides to go to god
and then die.
Race, religion, tribe
and their foot-soldiers
had become red
for lupines. It feels like
fire of hell. I am drunk
and I am burning.
Satish Verma
Steven Croat, 25 november 2012
The pine forset must
burn to the ground to new
trees grow from the ash.
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