~the Power Of A Tear~
Pounds of pain punctured my progress
Tons of trouble terminated my tranquility
Swarms of stress subtracted my substance
My heart exploded like a thousand thunders
My mind melted and my spirit splintered
Hanging by a thread destined to burst
I tried to wash away the wounds with words
But the stains were deeply dyed in concrete colors
Verbal detergents were badly and sadly defeated
Genius, like gold and precious stones,
is chiefly prized because of its rarity.
Geniuses are people who dash of weird, wild,
incomprehensible poems with astonishing facility,
and get booming drunk and sleep in the gutter.
Genius elevates its possessor to ineffable spheres
far above the vulgar world and fills his soul
with regal contempt for the gross and sordid things of earth.
*** When We Fall Apart ***
Krakatoa roars lava flows
Natives scattered to death
Grasses no longer need a mow
Leaving no lives and wealth
I’d float like a feather
Falls into your abyss of devotion,
Drowns in your pond of murmur
Plunging in slow motion
Beautiful city, the centre and crater of European confusion,
O you with your passionate shriek for the rights of an equal
How often your Re-volution has proven but E-volution
Roll'd again back on itself in the tides of a civic insanity!
His Wife, The Painter
There are sketches on the walls of men and women and ducks,
and outside a large green bus swerves through traffic like
insanity sprung from a waving line; Turgenev, Turgenev,
says the radio, and Jane Austin, Jane Austin, too.
'I am going to do her portrait on the 28th, while you are
He is just this edge of fat and he walks constantly, he
fritters; they have him; they are eating him hollow like
a webbed fly, and his eyes are red-suckled with anger-fear.
He feels hatred and discard of the world, sharper than
*** I Love You ***
I love you
Illusive intrusions like thunderous voices
Blowing my mind away….
I am here to conceal the chronology
All facts and figures
Embezzling the dazzles
Digging deep into your soul
You’re the artifact
Of ancient’s sag
Beneath you history shines
The Marriage Of Heaven And Hell
RINTRAH roars and shakes his
fires in the burdenM air,
Hungry clouds swag on the deep.
Once meek, and in a perilous path
The just man kept his course along
*** Take Me With You ***
Dusk chasing the lazy dawn
Sounds of angry skies deafening
Lightning, like a giant snapshot
Blinding your eyes to madness
Rains fiercely flooding the downhill pond
The slippery path ruining
Mind halts desires getting bold
Vision cuffs to the onus
I saw you standing near to Heaven pane
The Bridge Of Sighs
One more Unfortunate,
Weary of breath,
Gone to her death!
Take her up tenderly,
Lift her with care;
Fashion'd so slenderly
Young, and so fair!
The Hunting Of The Snark
Fit the First
'Just the place for a Snark!' the Bellman cried,
As he landed his crew with care;
Supporting each man on the top of the tide
By a finger entwined in his hair.
'Just the place for a Snark! I have said it twice:
That alone should encourage the crew.
Gave serious thought and tried to be assertive,
Have some say and never be submissive,
Not to look crook but not also passive,
Easy to take respect and ready to give,
First entry with bang as bride,
Head high with boldness and pride,
Firmness in attitude and nothing to hide,
All happiness and joy to provide,
Song Of The Prettybird- Shay Alexi Stewart
Song of the Prettybird:
I've lived 20 prettybird years
Of this great big prettybird life
And i think i pretty pretty pretty bird bird pretty much know what im talking about
People like to poke fun at my pretty bird pretty preening
At my pretty pretty bird pretty feathers
But look at my long clean coat
At my pretty pretty bird pretty pink legs
When pigeon men track me cross sky highway
My Gift To You
When the towers fell on September eleven
Countless souls were sent to heaven
Left families scarred and destroyed
For this nightmare had been employed.
My mind was a witness to the yells and screams
I thought I was trapped inside a terrifying dream
I wept for the human indignant pain
And felt the terror of 9/11 reign.
The Epic Of Sadness
Your love taught me to grieve
and I have been in need, for centuries
a woman to make me grieve
for a woman, to cry upon her arms
like a sparrow
for a woman to gather my pieces
like shards of broken crystal
Your love has taught me, my lady, the worst habits
it has taught me to read my coffee cups
~ Inaesthetic Global Pollution ~
~ INAESTHETIC GLOBAL POLLUTION ~
18 March 18,2010.
WHY READ THIS:
We need moral, aesthetic, biblio, audio, visual over all soul’s sanitization. It’s important and urgent and must be regarded as ‘Must Dos’.
Poetic Sense -1 (Translation)
Although the human mind has been divided into conscious, subconscious and unconscious today, yet the man had already been existing and his mind, too. Freud was of the view that he did not exactly invent the idea of unconscious mind because poets and philosophers were already familiar with it. He said that he had only presented its theory in psychological terms. According to Freud, the poetry comes into existence on account of regression and sublimation of unsatisfied longings. On regression of these conscious desires, the subcoscious and uncoscious minds apparently become symbols of sabotage but on sublimation they transform into creative subconscious and creative uncoscious respectively. It is either as the peaceful use of neuclear energy or as to irrigate the far flung barren lands from a large dam. When Plato said that even an expert of Poetic Technique could not create great poetry without intuitive insanity, he wanted to say that the poet could not depend on his conscious mind only because the source of superior creations is afterall the unconscious, the backyard of mind. Since then people have been considering the poets to be abnormal. You may call it insanity or licentiousness or poetic spell or revelation or intuition or poetic inspiration. On the other hand, a genius who is also seen at the last footstep of conscious, mostly depends upon his intuition. Therefore he is also considered to be abnormal. A litrary genius seldom turns to be normal but as a human being his best creative faculties operate during the most normal moments of his life. These are intellectual moments indeed. The analysis of revelation or intuition shows that it operates in two modes. In first mode, a totally untouched thought steps into conscious all of a sudden. It is usually considered similar to electric lightning. Therefore poets, mistics, even scientists, all are aware of it. While the second mode is more common which is also understood by people having non creative mind. This is called productive thinking and it is placed second to intuition. For example, a forgotten name or face or event comes into conscious suddenly during half-asleep. The first mode is related to unconscious while the second mode is related to subconscious. The subconscious is more important in both. In first mode, the unconscious is raised upto the level of subconscious. While in the second mode subconscious is itself a source of information. First mode is usually named as Poetic Inspiration while second as Poetic Imagination. A stream of thoughts begins to flow from subconscious towards conscious in both modes. Where in a trance-like state, the creator and his creation become two peas in a pod. At the end of the process when he observes his creation for the first time, it is no more a part of his subjective process but now he studies it objectively and makes modifications and additions in it. Thus he observes his creation as its first listener and critic, and tries to analyse what he has listened during intuition. In the first mode creative unconscious is responsible for the subjective process and creative conscious is resposible for the objective one. Likewise in the second mode creative subcoscious is responsible for the subjective process and creative conscious is responsible for the objective one. The creative conscious comes into existence by mastering the Poetic Technique. In fact, the functions of creative unconscious, creative subconscious, and creative conscious are so intercombined that they can not be isolated from one another. They are collectively known as Poetic Sense. In general terms Poetic Technique, Poetic Imagination and Poetic Inspiration are collectively called Poetic Sense.
*i'M Your Blue Ocean
Giving or not giving voice to the heretical words...
Understanding that the true love is a scarification.....
For being or not being....
True love inundating the conundrum
Like that sacred river of longing,
Sometimes flowing swiftly through landscapes
Astounding the lurid heart.....
The Sick Muse
My impoverished muse, alas! What have you for me this morning?
Your empty eyes are stocked with nocturnal visions,
In your cheek's cold and taciturn reflection,
I see insanity and horror forming.
The green succubus and the red urchin,
Have they poured you fear and love from their urns?
The nightmare of a mutinous fist that despotically turns,
Does it drown you at the bottom of a loch beyond searching?
I wish that your breast exhaled the scent of sanity,
Contained in this world is one specific hatred
Colour and ethnicity; these differences denigrated
Before I was born, I knew I was already hated
‘Cause of the colour of my skin, constantly humiliated.
Beaten and chopped down to my knees
Clasping my hands hoping higher power would see
That humans are defiling us coloured beings
Destroying our morale and optimistic dreams.
Oh, the tragedy of the human race
Without the sway and sublimity of grace...
Gnawing at the roots in slaveries of sin,
Of 'unredeemable' craze and whim.
The brainsick, rambling passions -
The robbers of unfeigned compassion.
The bullheaded sin -
The wrecker of profundity and pity...
World unruly malnourished of mercy and charity,