Wednesday, May 2, 2012

Collection of Haiku

Spring
Watching the birds fly,
My mind wanders to the sky,
Searching for beauty.

Summer
Practicing under
The shady sycamore tree -
The sun still finds me.

Fall
I read by streetlight -
Solemnly the silent owl
Watches me walking.

Winter
Wintry tree limbs hang
Upside down and touch the clouds -
Wooden icicles.

June
Lightning bugs like stars
Make the summer trees look like
An early Christmas

Mystery
Thick fog creeps from the
Field and is illuminated
By passing cars

Thought
The moon leads my path
To unknown journeys, secret
Pathways between the lines

Untitled
I bought bread for the
Visiting birds, but instead
Fed the lonely cat.

Untitled 1
What is Poetry
But our try at creation,
And showing the truth?

Untitled 2
You get out of life
What you put into it.
Work to prevent strife.

Untitled 3
Out of my old door
And towards new paradise
I step with a smile.

Untitled 4
Beholding God's Great
Creation, I shall find fresh
Divine inspiration.

Untitled 5
The sins of this world
Will not hold back God's Gift of
Life never ending.

Untitled 6
This Heaven on Earth
Is beyond my wildest dreams:
I love my life now.

Untitled 7
Spending endless days
In her arms, her love,
My one true rainbow.
Untitled 8
I shall never know
Perfection: I must seek it
Always from my God.

Untitled 9
Paradise Now Found:
Golden Streets, Silken Sheets, God's True Light
Shining Forever.
Untitled 10
The glossary of
Poets start where the common
Dictionary ends.

Haiku to My Rainbow
You are my rainbow,
You are my everything,
We are forever.

You're the one I love:
I love your all, you're my all:
My heart's in your hands.

Your love fills me up:
Your every kiss, laugh, smile;
I sip from your cup.

The waves of woe will
Never upset Our Deep Blue:
Our love will stay true.

You are my best friend;
I pray this will never end;
Love is eternal.

The above haiku Poems were excerpted from the author's Heaven on Earth. View a free sample of his online book of Poetry at Johnston Arts - Online Publications. Join Poetry discussions at the Johnston Karate Online Community.


Author:: Owen Johnston
Keywords:: wado ryu,karate school,martial arts,Poetry,Poems,Ebook,online books,lake city,south carolina
Post by History of the Computer | Computer safety tips

Florencia: A Prose Poem Parts 1 thru 4 of Seven Parts

Florencia

The Hidden Underworld Kingdoms of the Amuc [An Andean Peruvian Account

A Prose Poem

Prologue: There are many kingdoms that have come and gone on earth, throughout written history, mostly documented, but there is only one kingdom, that has come, and has not gone, that has existed for eons, it is the Hidden Kingdom of the Amuc, which consist of actually four kingdoms, somewhat interconnected; but it is not on the surface of the earth, it is in the crust of the earth. I have talked to many people in the Andes, and villages, and minors, and old timers, they all believe in them, some have saw them, others were legends to live by. Some say they have blond hair, others say they have steel wings, and are a foot tall. I first head about them in 1999, when I first came to Peru, and went to the Andes, and then I came back every year since, nine times to Peru so far, and the year is still 2006, at least for another six weeks. Anyhow, I bought a house in Lima, and one in Huancayo, in the Mantaro Valley. And then I purchased an adobe hobby farm of sorts, in the Village of San Jeronimo de Tunan, and this is when it all started. I mean this is where my story actually originated. I dont expect anyone to believe me, but I shall nonetheless, give you the account that took place.

Close to my property, which is about 6000-square meters, with tall adobe walls surrounding the land, perhaps three feet thick, with several small dwelling within this enclosure, is where I lived on the weekends; an old Church (1539 AD) called St. Sebastian, nearby, up the dirt road a bit. There one weekend in the month of August, I was carving out a garden in one section of my land, by one of the adobe dwellings, and I found a statue, it was carved into the liking of a midget size king, but much smaller; at the time I thought it was a goblin, but I am not in Ireland, I told myself, and it was not a fairy, although it could have been, perhaps it w as something in-between, like one of those Amuc people I heard about.

Oh well, let me get on with the story: the adobe foundation to my property was build about 130-years before I had bought the place, it went through the Pacific War, the one between Chile and Peru, about 1879 to 1883. So I thought it to be a statue of a grave marking of some sort. And it was, but it was not of the war I talk about, it was of a great Amuc that once lived. Oh yes, now we are getting into the real heart of the matter, are we not. Well, that is why I call this story, an account because that is exactly what it is.

So let me go on with the account: I dug deeper into the ground, in the silenced of the night so no one would be the wiser, twilight is always haunting and worth a good dig, and eerie it was, and it really made the spell of the digging more enchanting, smoke like figures even crossed the moon, and moonbeams shot (so it seemed), shot right down through the porthole I had ma de in the roof over my dig, and my head to give me light as I dug; the shadows swept like lotusto and froover the gray ebbing clouds above the crown of my head, it was a warm evening, to say the least. I had even added adobe walls around the dig; thus, it was a structure now: twenty feet deep the hole was, with a rope ladder attached to the adobe walls, tub by tub for three weeks I dug and brought up dirt from the hole, piled it here and there, little mounds everywhere in my yard. Woops, I forgot to tell you, I found a gravestone, of a man, and it read in Quechua (one of the oldest languages of earth). It read,

King Niobla, of Remora (the West Kingdom) scornful heart he had, and a wicked laugh for all, he stole me for his child bride, and killed my brother, father and stirred his wine with his bones; it was best for us all he be where he lay, for I had him killed one summers day: my king of the West Kingdom of Remora, now in his dull grave; let him rest in Hell, as not to contaminate those who live beneath, lest we be his salves. 642 AD His un-grieving wife: Florencia of Drabmol (The North Kingdom)

As I dug deeper, the walls started crumbling, that is when I found the coffin of the king, and when I opened it, he did have steel like wings, as if angelic, but they were laid to his side, perhaps he felt he could fly, they were attachable. He was no taller than a foot or more, perhaps fourteen inches, in all. And he still had his skull attached, to his neck, and deep-rooted socket for eyes in his head. I was at this time, twenty-two feet below the surface, and hence, I dug another week, another ten feet, slowly, now thirty-two feet, then at forty-feet, I found a tunnel, and it went downward, but it was cramped, I am 172-pounds, and five foot, eight inches tall, not tall for todays, primates, but tall for the average Peruvian, and a giant according to the corpse and statue I had found. As I pushed my way through these skin tight walls, I was scared Id be buried alive, but with a flash light I saw a few hundred feet down further (in front of me), where an item in the dirt lay, when I got to it, it was a hat, for a small females head, then I noticed foot prints, small, but I could make them out to be footprints. I was starting to push my body backwards, I had had enough of this, air was thin, and I was scared, and cramped, and going ahead I saw would be more difficult, for it was even thinner, how would I make it. Then (and I must say, there will be a lot of then (s) in this story), I heard behind me the crumbling of the walls, I couldnt turn around, and it would be most difficult to go forward.

I did have a little shovel with me for digging; it was what I had been doing for three to four weeks now, so why not try to dig my way through to wherever the tunnel led me to, or rot where I was, and then I saw a little woman, beautiful as could be, faintly she appeared, and this is were my story come s from, not sure if I dreamt it, or was told it when I was passed out, or whatever, but when I woke up I was back outside my tunnel, in the shack I had built around the hole, it was as if I was pulled out by my feet, my shoes were off, my ankles had red marks around them.

[Opening: to the Dream: it was in the time, perhaps the 7th century or so, a time when the kingdoms of the Mantaro Valley were captured by the Wanka Warriors, and Unishcoto, and Arwaturo along with Wariwilca were just being inhabitant (now old ruins in the Ville), it was a time when the little people, known as the Amuc, lived underground in four kingdoms, the Northern Kingdom, the Southern Kingdom (remote and small, not a fighting kingdom for the most part), the Western Kingdom know as Remora (once the most dominate of them all), which was part of the Eastern Kingdom, yet the Eastern Kingdom was the mightiest of all the kingdoms of the Amucs underworld at this given time, and each had its separate ki ngs. Remora feared the Northern Kingdom, of Drabmol, and under battle, they had lost more lives, yet these two kingdoms were not completely tested to the point of one was dominating the other.

1

King Dnusirut of Drabmol (of the Northern Kingdom), accepted Prince Niobla of Remora, as his guest, he was visiting the kingdom, at his fathers request, to ensure peace was still abreast with this barbarian tribal kingdom of sorts, and at the request of King Nitsuj, of the East. But the Prince had brought up a sour issue, said he:

I would like to take the dagger that killed your son in battle back home with me as a trophy of my conquest in battle.

So he told the king in the throne chamber, and with tears in his eyes the king bowed his head in sorrow, but said, Yes, I understand, it is your right of conquest.

The war between the two kingdoms was stopped prematurely, when the king from the East told all, he would take both kingdoms from both kings should they not make peace, and it was a threat he could fulfill. Now, when the request had been made, it happened to be, Prince Dnumiunc was nearby listening, and went historical into the center of the room, said he in no pleasant manner:

He was my brotherfather, do not give him the dagger he cut the throat of my brother with.

The father looked weary indeed, but what could he say, Son, he said in a humbling manner, oh my son, Prince and someday to be king of this land of the North, you must keep its traditions and customs, it is like particles of the peoples blood that goes for 100,000-years behind us, we must give it or be shamed, now say no more, I am already disgraced by your mouth, go and hide from my eyes!

Disgraced from this mad-god that has no courage, he should have taken the knife out of his heart when he killed him on the battle field, why nowwhy now does the slayer come to do what he could have done before?

Oh yes, there was heat and hate, and v enom coming from the body and the mouth of the uncouth prince. Said the king with a sigh, Say no more, lest I have you removed from this room, and that will be to your dishonor, it will be as I said.

And that was the last words that came from the tongue of the contempt prince.

2

It was in the hallways Princess Florencia of Drabmol was walking, and she was the flower of all the kingdom, most beautiful, more so they say than Cleopatra, or even Helen of Troy, and when the Prince of Remora saw her he stopped, caught his breath, wide-eyed, said, My gosh, who are you, a stunning beauty among these Barbarians?

Said she with her head held high, I, my young and obnoxious Prince, am Florencia, and I dislike you more than my brother, who scorned you in the throne chamber, now leave me pass!

Oh, he would not move, not for love or money, king or land, he would not move, he made his stand, I will have you, you will be my bride to beyou will be in my bed, and bear my children.

You insidious, obnoxious creature, how dare you speak to me like that, I am a Princess, and you will never have me, save my father will slay you first.

The Prince, looked about, And where is he, your father, and who is he?

His name is Prince Dnumiunc, said Florencia.

Oh yes, said Niobla, Him, I suppose I will have to slay him as I did his brother. Perhaps, once I am king, then we shall see who fairs best in war and battle, with the sword, and without King Nitsujs help, we would have you under our heel, had it not been for He.

So you say, but I think not. Rejoined the Princess, You would have been our servants, is more like it.

I see you have a mouth like your brother, so be it, I will tame that also, and put you under my loins, and make love to you, and you will wish I would never stop.

I have no lover, but if he were you, Id cut your throat, or mine. Exclaimed Florencia.

Then all of a sudden Prince Dnumiunc appeared, said he with hand to his sword, Why do you talk to this vulture? he asked his daughter.

It was I mad prince of Drabmol, I stopped her and asked her whom she was, so I am at fault, not her. But she is beautiful, give me her hand in marriage, for my wife, or I will take her anyway, as a mistress. Said Niobla.

You are an infection to this kingdom, and you have out used your curtsey of being our guest, I hope you are gone by morning, I would love to put my sword into your heart, and I need very little reason more. Said the Prince Dnumiunc.

I am sure your sword and skill are as dull as your wit and words, hide your sword and save yourself, by giving me your daughter while you can.

Having said that, the scourged and love hungry prince dashed off to his room.

3

[Nine months later It was by the night they came, and through the princess window they bound her, and took her back to Remora, Prince Niobla was now king.

Said King Niob la, to his captured mistress, Florencia, You will lay with me one way or the other.

I will not willingly, nor do you dare, my father will war with you, slay you. Said Florencia, nervously, yet trying to keep her composure.

He must know you are with me by now, where is this father of yours, he is not knocking at my door, I see him not (he goes to the window, it is morning in his land, looks out it, then looks back at Florencia, his eyebrow goes up, he smirks).

You dare not! repeated the princess.

Do you think for one minute I have gone through all this, to not have my hunger met?

You dare not, my father will. Reiterated the Princess.

But I do dare, I will drink your fathers blood someday, will drink it with my wine and mix it with his bones, time will show you it will be so.

My grandfather will war with your kingdom, and we almost tore your armies to shreds last time we battled, said the princess.

This was true, and the West, fe ared the Northern barbarians, but the new King would have his mistress nonetheless, and make her queen, one way or the other, or have her live as his mistress, like it or not, and he threw her on his bed. And it was that way for three months, each night, every night. He could not get enough of her. And then it came to pass, he was called to attend a meeting in the Eastern Kingdom, by none other than, Prince Dnumiunc, and King Nitsuj, and to bring Florencia along. Oh it was maddening for the new King Niobla to do so, but he heeded the Kings command from the East, lest he lose his kingdom be lost, and Florenciaand he was no fool.

4

King Nitsuj, sat on his throne, as Prince Dnumiunc stood in front of him, and King Niobla, likewise, said the old king, King Nitsuj, You have taken a princess out of a kingdom, and spoiled her, what do you have to say for yourself King Niobla?

This is true, said the new King, and the heart sometimes cannot stop itself, I love her with all my heart, and I had to have her. I requested she be given to me, but her father has venom in his tongue, and blood because I killed his brother in fair battle, as all wars have battles, and loses, and now he wants revenge, and uses his daughter for this; had I not asked for the dagger I cut his brothers throat with, hed have given her hand to me in marriage perhaps.

This is no reason to take what is not yours in battle. You did not win the war, you slay only a man, a prince, not a princess, you are guilty, what should be the judgment on a king who takes another kings granddaughter, what would your judgment be?

I want him dead! bellowed Prince Dnumiunc.

And what do you say to that? asked the presiding king.

Let Florencia decide what is to be done with me. Said the accused prince.

King Nitsuj, looked at Prince Dnumiunc, And what do you say to that? he asked.

Said the angered Prince, So be it, she will cut your throat, and your p rivate parts off, and he laughed with a vengeful grin.

At that, the old king had Florencia brought out, and she was asked what would be her judgment on king Niobla. She hesitated, so her father said, Have him killed, Florencia, you hate him as I do. But she could not speak those very same words.

I must think of this a while, she expressed, perhaps a week would do. Her father held his breath, a sigh came out, it was tension, and he was flabbergasted.

I am with child, do I slay its father, and then tell the child when he is a young prince, I killed him because he raped me? All looked at her indecisiveness.

Said the old king, It must be settled by you now, or I will make the decree and he murmured her indecisiveness.

I cannot make the assessment today, it must wait. Said Florencia.

So be it, said the Eastern King, adding, you will have the right to join King Niobla at his kingdom, or your own, but should you choose his, you will be wed, and made queen. Should you choose your fathers kingdom, in the North, you will be Princess, and do with the child as you please. That is how it will be.

And so it was, and Florencia picked out the Western Kingdom, and King Niobla wed her as his wife, and adored her beauty, but hated her insults, yet for some reason he did not revenge those insults, but played with them with wit, for amusement. And they had a daughter, and the king was not happy, perhaps as most kings, they want a son to hand down the throne to, yet he accepted this fact, and adored her all the more, for it kept the Queen in place. He used it, now and then, off and on, when she got too unruly, hed threaten her with the child, saying in so many words: hed take the daughter away from a mad woman as she, and have her placed in some far off outpost of the kingdoms.

See Dennis' web site: http://dennissiluk.tripod.com


Author:: Dennis Siluk
Keywords:: Poetic Story
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Shaking out the Rugs Following the Poet

Lets follow the poet to his
Hell and heaven! Count his
Ghosts and dilemmas

Reach out to touch his
Stretched-out skies; lets follow
The poet to see where he lays.

Lets follow the poet to his end;
To see if he canwhatever
He wants to do, do over again.

Lets find the poet's soul, and then
Once found, let it go; And watch the
Afterglow! His indelible impressions.

Hurry! Hurry-up! or well be late
Dont worry, he doesnt care
If were nearhes too busy.

What does a Poet do?
You ask,
Besides write?

He thinks all night. Leans against
A fence; moans and groans a little
Thinking how it should have been.

Shakes out rugs: too much pencil
And lead; then tries to clear his Head!
Asks God for forgiveness.

He rides the wind in his dreams.
He just came back from Egypt it
Seems; with more impressions!

Dennis, I hope youre not bragging
In this little Poem; incidentally,
Do poets have homes?

An old Islamic style of poetry, ghazal form (used by Hafez and ((Rumi, 1207 AD; born in Afghanistan. He wrote Poems, mystical odes, songs, prayers, etc.; inside his form I think we find most often the friend)); the ghazal form, each stanza of three lines amounts to a finished Poem in itself; like the Japanese or Chinese haiku, it has its own roots. The question in Mr. Siluks Poem here is not so much the question of plot or ongoing theme or do we find a friend? Rather, we may see the longing for one, as each stanza claims it own path to the center of the web. Rosa Pealoza

Note: #679 5/21/05

Poet/author, Dennis Siluk, his site can be seen at http://dennissiluk.tripod.com


Author:: Dennis Siluk
Keywords:: Poem
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Looking Out the Rear Window

The funeral rite concluded
With the pastor shaking hands,
Offering words of comfort
I didn't quite understand.

The undertakers came forth
And summoned Pallbearers' four.
They marched beside the coffin
Carrying it steady toward the door.

I didn't cry or whimper
As I followed right behind.
But deep within I screamed
Don't leave O Mother of mine.

Please don't go to the Grave;
Let's chat just one more time.
Let's talk about the 'good old days'
Don't leave, O Mother of mine.

But onward moved the Casket
Down the stairs to the limousine;
With Mother laying incognizant
Of my agonizing scream.

As we rode toward the ossuary
Thoughts were swimming in my head;
Why didn't the whole world stop?
Didn't it know my Mother was dead?

But the world kept 'bout its business
And within I felt so sad,
'Cause my Mother didn't get the honor
I thought she should have had.

As we drove into the Cemetery
I knew it wouldn't be long,
Before I had to sing at last
My final farewell song.

I stood at the Gravesite
Grief festering in my breast:
Scriptures read, prayers prayed,
Mother committed to eternal rest.

Looking out the car's rear Window
As we mutely drove away;
I saw a heavenly Angel fly
To where my Mother lay.

Then I knew that all was well,
That Mother was just fine.
That I would live and grow and serve
Until, alas, my time.

Thank you Lord for reassuring me
That the Grave is not the end.
That Mother is patiently waiting for me
Just around life's toilsome bend.

But now there's work I must perform
That no one else can do;
Some hurting, aching souls to soothe,
Broken dream s to help renew.

And in the process of reaching out
To brighten someone's day;
I sense way deep within myself,
That I too will be okay.

Saundra L. Washington is the author of two coffee table books: Negative Disturbances, Homilies that Teach, and the book from which this poem is taken, Room Beneath the Snow, Poems that Preach. Looking out the Rear Window was written shortly following her Mother's Death. She can be contacted at: http://www.clergyservices4u.org


Author:: Saundra L. Washington
Keywords:: Grief,Mother,Death,Cemetery,Grave,Casket,Mother,Angel,Window,Pallbearers,
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The Side Degree

How many sides? You have on the one side, one side
And on the other (side) what? Another side?
That would make more than one side?
Would it not?

OK, so now we have two sides; one side, and the other side
But what of another side? from the first side, there was...
another side, the other side
So now we have three sides:
the first side, the other side, and another side
Nevermind which side came first
Another side? Or the other side?
Nevertheless, we have three sides, like three dimensions

So for time, we have a fourth dimension
So now we know how four sides may exist
Now how can there be four sides, without first a side, one side?
What is a side?
It is on the outside, inside, above or beneath the surface?
Is it the surface itself?

He sighed,

Supreme Mathematics is key to Understanding the Universe -- the four-sided square truth of one 360 degree circle that is understanding the equality of th e cipher to be born complete. The seven-sided 7 is the number of God, I-Self -- the All-Knowing, the All-Wise, the All-Seeing, Master, Ruler, Creator, Owner, and Maker of the Universe, which is everything -- the Sun, the Moon, and the Stars. Knowledge is the foundation and Wisdom is the way; Understanding lets you know that your on your way.

Junior TRUE Williams is a 3rd year student at York University in Toronto, Canada. He is currently pursuing a double major in Cognitive Science and Philosophy. Also, he is the sole-contributer and author of the Everything True @ York U blog at http://trueking7.blogspot.com.


Author:: Junior Williams
Keywords:: Poetry knowledge wisdom understanding blog
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Tuesday, May 1, 2012

Preserving Dignity

No one should have to beg or crawl before humanity.
No one should have to scheme to procure philanthropy.

No one should be outcast for simply being different.
No one should be found guilty ere proven he's not innocent.

No one should be employed based solely on color of skin.
No one in high positions should think themselves sovereign.

No one should be denied the human right to equality.
No one should be the victim of cruel brutality.

No one should have to demean himself just to make a living.
No one should have a heart that is cold and unforgiving.

No one should be subjected to a life of slavery.
No one should have to suffer the effects of bigotry.

No one should abuse another; in word, in strength or deed.
No one should have the less because of other's greed.

No one should be the target of hate by any race.
No one should have to die ashamed and in disgrace.

No one should feel a thrill from the suffering of others.
No one should think himself to be better than his brothers.

No one should judge another or degrade their fellow man.
No one should plot and scheme to carry out an evil plan.

No one should act in anger or utter wicked hurtful things.
No one should be no one for we all are human beings.

To us God gave the gift of Love to bestow upon each other.
Let's preserve and honor the Dignity of all our sisters and brothers.

Rev. Saundra L. Washington, D.D., is an ordained clergywoman, veteran social worker, and Founder of AMEN Ministries. She is also the author of two coffee table books: Room Beneath the Snow: Poems that Preach and Negative Disturbances: Homilies that Teach which can be reviewed on her site. Her new book, Out of Deep Waters: My Grief Management Wor kbook, is expected to be available soon.

You are welcome to visit AMEN Ministries: Your Soul's Service Station for spiritual refreshing, soul edification, browse our newly expanded mini shopping mall or review our recommended books you may want to add to your personal library.

Blessings to all!


Author:: Saundra L. Washington
Keywords:: Poem,Poetry,Dignity,preserving Dignity,Cruelty,Love,God
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Rogue Poetry (Eight Poems)

Rogue Poetry

[Commentary Im not so young anymore, I seem to think Ive recognized something that has escaped most of the modern age that perhaps most of us are people lost inside our own heads.

When I look at my past, it now seems to be akin to roads unprepared, rivers still with old levees, and fields full of weeds, and unplowed. I suppose you can say that of any new generation coming onto the sceneone feels they have not enough time to finish what they started before the new one takes over. It is indeed a pilgrimage to write about it, in plain terms.

Few people recognize the poets and writers I quote today, a few select perhaps dohere I shall lay bare the sleeping world, and bare my soul, perhaps the rogue in me will come out:

1)Tired Rogue Poet

I feel we are being closed i n!
from all that I have seen.
Im tired, otherwise Id find
some hope I suppose: finished.

I am fifty-eight years of age;

year of the water-downed bird.
I am ill a lot of the time, my
mind is severed from my head

i noticed this a few nights ago when I tired to go to bed.

#1021 12/23/2005

2)Eccentric Poet

Flesh and bonea
haunted mind;
i change with my moods,
my moods are my
weather.
I do not blame my mind
for my hallucinations
its all gossip that descends
on eccentrics
descends from the heavens
or seeps up from hell!

#1022 12/05

3)The Butterfly and Me

When Im walking,
whomever Im talking to
(and it could be myself),
in the mist of madness
walking with, or at a
caf reading a book,
newspaper, Poetryetc:
it can appear, the moment
when the poem itself manifests
like a butterfly, stretching
its wings for the first time
it can appear, so I speak out!...

#1023 12/24/05

4)Christmas Madness

How many people stare into space,
contemplate their faith, or capture
a moment of indignity?

Christmas is two days away; no,
23-hours and thirty-five minutes.
Woops! Not too far off

and were all standing in front of
department stores; walking down
malls: what a crazy faith!

#1027 12/24/05

5)Lost Worlds

There are other worlds out there to live on
im surebut someone doesnt want us to know;
thus, making this one, the only one, the absolute one,
in place of the lost one, the oneonly they know.

#1024 12/23/2005

6) The Nature of Time

One time, is all time
and time you cannot change;
barer, it can be stretched
or frozenbut the nature of< Br> time remains; a passage
to eternity.

#1025 12/23/2005

7)This is About Life

Poetry recalls the memory
of a past experience (existence)
to whoever has forgotten
that life is the one thing
that makes the universe
shine and ring..!

#1026 12/24/05

8) The Squirrel Cage

They do not change in
The squirrel cage
Mans old single compulsions!

#1029 12/23/2005

8)Abhorred Old Drunk

The pall old drunk stood in the street,
abhorred he stood looking at me,
his severed thumb hanging by a thread,
he shit in his pants, a car almost killed him;
his rainbow of life, like a candle put out
I could see it in his eyes; a blank stare,
not knowing what happened, hanging on
to his thumbin mid air: hanging on, on
standing there, there in the street
(back in 88); why do I think of it now (?)
its much too late: its Christmas Time: 2005.

#1032 12/24/05; note: sobriety is a way of life, and I can only say for those who have tasted the bitterness of the drink, I will tell you now, get out of hells grip, before its too late; Im recovering, had I not started 22-years ago, Id never had made it to fifty-eight years old (I would have died back before my 40th birthday). Merry Christmas to you; and Happy Birthday Lord. Dlsiluk

See Dennis' web site: http://dennissiluk.tripod.com


Author:: Dennis Siluk
Keywords:: Poetry
Post by History of the Computer | Computer safety tips