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Friday, 30 September 2011

Pouring Libation

At the front line, where backs are   
Firmly stack against walls, that hot  
Transmitting the burning coals of larva 

From the bosom of dejected dissolution  
Deep beneath the heart's crust knocking 
With increased temperature, in temperament  

Of  the heat, in trepidation gushing up 
As time passes by, like street lights so fast 
Distancing, one from dreams with stretch  

With age count, adding burden of  guilt on lost hope
Like the gas filled cylinder left out cold 
Awaiting sparks, just a single spark, for its day 

To burn, combust, with might  in the light 
Showing its glory, showing its all
As given to proclaim as destiny to be 

Yet slowly, increasingly, widening  
This hatch, hole of opening enigma, 
Escapes hope, from an opening 

Sucks out, leaks and dilute with air 
The essence of once so defined 
Taking forms of deflated objects, wrinkled   

What do you do son, what do you do 
 To keep from drowning souls  
As once so care free, a spirit trapped in cages 

Today we will pour libations, it is needed 
Laugh and mock life and dreams had
Tomorrow we will saddle up, back chasing that dream 
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Thursday, 29 September 2011

Anchored In Seats

I am anchored in my seat 
Sweat runs through my glands 
For the battles, we are assigned to 

To deal with, on allocation, on life
Destiny's reflections, demands I take my share 
Of the weight and sweat it out 

The rest of the world thus the same 
And everyone comes in, to pick up tools
Wake the morning, to clock in work cards 

Lined like chickens, in farms
Industrial in categories, battery
Of predicaments faced, order pickings 
Forced on or by choices made 
Stood in subconsciousness of uniformity 
If only we shared stories to know 

Too much weight for that, time spent
Sympathy will only slow us down
Productivity on targets to be achieved 

On factory floors,  on thread-miles of life
Each to his own, departmental codes
Obstacles assigned to

I am anchored in my seat 
Like its nobody's business 
You don't have to know

You don't have to know, my child
Where I slept the night 
If  I slept the night, or sat with worry  

After I finished my shift in day light 
To be granted a rest bite
If I slept the night 

Others pick up tools, on their turn
Pick up from where they left off 
Anchored in seats 

Departmental codes 
Predicaments of obstacles assigned 
To be anchored in seats of life 

Slowly breaking chains
You don't have to know 
You don't have to know my child 

Wednesday, 28 September 2011

In Tree's Chatter

The summer flower has run to seed 
Leaves fall like confetti in autumn 
Ceremonial in procession 
They blanket the grounds, that lay covered 

Long gone the winds, that blew breeze  
That made tree branches dance and 
Sing with joy in summer  

Cherished trees have lost their boldness 
Naked they walk in winter, in harmattan 
Like a Buddhist test of faith, on courage 

The circles of time they hold within 
Tells stories, guaranteed of battles fought   
With Seasons of  time voyage past 

She rather the pain of endeavor
Than pity of sorrow, nausea  
So she bleeds silently within  

Spring will affirm, what believers hold 
If trees make it, that far in seasons 
Watch, like magic the shooting stars of new  

With shots of green leaves and branches bold  
If we make it that far, on the green belt movement 
Before the chainsaw man appears with glum

If we make it that far to spring
The summer flower has run to seed 
A reincarnation is awaited in spring  

In memory of Wangari Maathai
Wangari Maathai 1940-2011Image by Global Crop Diversity Trust via Flickr

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Tuesday, 27 September 2011

The Shelter of Amour

I have looked into the eyes of oblivion 
And seen the darkness that resides 
With comfort it festers and radiates   

It spreads like a flu and I have caught it's bug 
Cold with shivers and I sneezed 
Like others around me do, with spread 

Spreading it's disease, it's chest infection 
That fevers the heart, requiring to be contained 
To avoid the spread of contamination  

That grows strong with dispense  
Signs lie in the redness of the eye, the nose 
I cough, as though my soul begs to be let out 

Out of this cage of suffer 
With no antidote of manufacture
To cure it's ravage hold

Nothing but the smoothing of love 
Hot cocoa, hot lemonade, with honey  
Of the most beautiful flower's nectar, nursing   

I have caught a bug in need of cure 
Before my soul exile my encasement 
And die without the shelter of amour  

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Monday, 26 September 2011

Rains on the Crow

Close to discovery, stood in rains  
Like the crow on door knocks  
Awaiting stages to shine on  

Conditions on forces, do conspire  
To be left with the crucifix of perception  
Warmongering on fearful instinct,  against on reaction 

If only the crow had feathers so bright 
Like the parrot, like the birds of paradise 
To be given a platform in rooms 

So adored, delighted, on worship  
Hanged at the best spot, for all to see
Talked about, like the dolphin's prestige 

But not so says, was it to be 
Fearmongering on instinct
Perception had t' judges jumping off their skin 

It is the stories, from before as told   
The cinema clips projected, propaganda  
That holds the blame, as with t' books of history told

If only the director did pick another
Just not the crow, just not the crow
But another, just not the crow, Gothic, raven  

Left to stand in the rain 
Denied its rightful place of intelligence hold 
Darkness of it's feathers, hides its drench 
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Sunday, 25 September 2011

Secret Society

I am moved, so move over  
Roll over, step aside and watch 
How it is done, how it is to be done 

Show your badge for entry 
In secret societies, secret handshakes  
Recite, the secret phrase for passage 

We done did it before, emancipation 
Once upon a time in stories we hold  
So this is just repetitive, like face wash 

Every morning, done on instinct  
And when we done with the roads  
That elevate, like help books, we make our own  

On the thought of mind control , awaking 
Road maps, passage through forest
Of non explored, realisation done with a stride

Observers perplexed, like watching a man levitate
While stood shocked, mesmerised, with no utter 
We run on water 75%, walk on air with breath 

And we've got that, passwords, secret handshakes  
Unlock secret gates with secrets codes
And find realisation, like awakening from coma

But you are not to be forgiven
To be caught out by the storm, in the storm
And stretch out for sympathy

Even kids don't do that any more
And we grown men, women 
So behave, simply put 

The wise speak in proverbs 
To sieve out the likes in mind
On the same wave length, minded 

Its like speaking in a foreign language
For the man, who knows no different
From being spoon fed

So this is the secret society
Codes of common sense to be applied
Waves in length, wave length of the mind
Animated illustration of a wave that slows dow...Image via Wikipedia

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Saturday, 24 September 2011

This Natural World

Standing on the treadmill  
Of this life line, passing by, sleep walking 
With blinks of what we don't see flashlight 
Half of what we see, that we see  

To refuse to acknowledge  
Travelling through space  
Between reasons and understanding  
In no man's land 

I look up, into the heavens 
And constantly I am made aware
In acknowledgement, how insignificant we are  
For what we fight for, to own, to build 

Dead men's blood poured on this soil 
In battles fought long before, wasted  
Forgotten limps and medals of honour 
Stands, Colosseum, kings who ruled 

And Rome fell; long, long before invaders entered
This  artificial world we fight so  hard to own 
To trade friendship, to claim 
More fragile than the natural world around 

Rats, cockroaches  and ants, wild grass 
Constantly invading, pigeons and sea gull 
Rains insult on it's very grand gesture 
Constantly needing to be cared for 

To keep from rotten, this world, this life 
I breathe, the air that surround 
And  instantly I am made to appreciate 
What mother nature has offered  so freely 

This world, this life opened landscape 
I see mountains, forests, seas and valleys 
This naturally world to have lived in 
I give thanks, each day, each day I give thanks 
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Friday, 23 September 2011

Water's Gold

I will offer you tomorrow's gold
Liquid inform that flows so aboundantly free
I will offer you tomorrow's scarcity

Thursday, 22 September 2011

Loosely Wild

How close have you ever gotten to nature  
To sit on the edge of seats 
And watch its majesty with fancy, dazzling

Lions rawrrr in playful bravado
Rhinos gallop, then trot crossing over tracks
Wolves on each others backs in a playful banter

Tigers bluff, refusing to budge 
Sitting on a bench just sunbathing in daydream
I came to see you, give me a pose for the camera

To sit in the drivers seat,  at arms length  
And in front of watch, creatures known as wild as mighty
As beastly wild, step so close I get to touch them 

Giraffes so tall, they rain showers from dripping mouths
Buffalo keeping a distance, steam off  their nostrils, tell tale signs
Just to be sure, safe to be sure, keeping a distance 

Cheeky camels  stood obstructing traffic 
That is how close I got to nature 
When I went down to the safari 

I saw ant castles standing like home from home 
Saw sea lions jumping hoops, huge snakes  
And bats in enclosures  eerily  they flew 

Above my head and shoulders 
So close, so near, touching distance
Brought to life my fearful wonder

Scorpions and stone fish
Spiders, and stick insects
Down in the west midland 

Who would have thought 
A little savannah, safari park 
In the middle of England 

Could be so nice 
That is how close I got to nature 
Next step is Africa 

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Wednesday, 21 September 2011

Rains on the Island

Mermaids are made of fiction 
Stories told to delight our imagination 
Like the flying little fairies  

Who parade with joy in back gardens 
So many in lists of creatures to mention 
All magical and wondrous in ways there are 

To cast a spell of enchantment 
So many children stories, inspired  
To have been told of fiction 

But in Europe laid an island 
Anglo, hair tin distance from the main land  
Where the tears of the clouds poured persistent  

Poured on so much, on the regular  
It turned the inhabitants into mermaids 
Such a place like a fish tank, England always wet

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Tuesday, 20 September 2011

The Last Gulyas Soup

I should have seen it coming 
Really should have, hunger rumbling my stomach 
With preview given at a glance 

What's with a seat at the high table 
Drinks and pleasantries, opened arms 
And the art of given mastered 

My nose senses, my stomach awakens 
Oblige to the scent of aroma 
The wonderful gulyas soup 

This is home made, Anya Horváth
Bespoke with serenading love 
As it boils to fill an apatite  

Mine is to say yes please, 
Kérem, please do serve 
My hunger awaken to feast 

On yours precious, köszönöm 
Will be my last words 
When I am finished, with delight 

Note: The picture shown not the Gulyas soup I had,
finished it before thinking of writing this piece
I am sure to have some more, however the title
gives the poem a feel to reflex the holiday I was on
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Monday, 19 September 2011

Awaiting Answers

I am out of coverage area 
Sometimes you aught to be 
To find your self, with meaning 

The buddhist prefer a solitary area 
Or would avoid uttering words for years  
In meditating mood, for enlightenment  

On journeys back I took  
In the clouds I saw a rabbit, a sea horse 
Land-horse and a boar  

Meanings, I still don't know  
But for seeing such beauty in the clouds 
Aught to be a blessings of some sought  

A silver lining across the pond of life 
A sign of thee, from thee  
To reflect on others to come, I'm sure 

First signs count 
I saw them, there, there  
Those silver lining, I saw them
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Sunday, 18 September 2011

My Train Journey

I woke this morning bright 
In a warm sunny room in Kecskemet 
This was nice, nice I tell you

Packed my bags after a week stay in Hungary 
And headed to the train station
This was going to be my mood of saddle 

Travelled away from my rest bite, 
On a train, tracks he lay
He blows his horn, to announce his coming,  

Past the trees into the sky that lay 
He appears, blowing his horn 
To announce his coming 

First class was all but taken 
In seats,  designated for luxury travel
Bought on priority request 

I stood with luggage between my legs  
Window peeping for sight seeing 
The country side, provides view so perfect 

On this train I saw more of the country  
Hungary had to offer, in hidden treasures landscape   
Farms and houses with their own stories to tell  

I made my own stories to tell 
Flipping through towns  and country side passed by  
Sat on the train from Kecskemet to Budapest 

Jumped off, to the horn that blew
For stops, the train driver at my destination  reached
Another horn blow sent the train onwards without me 

Bye I said to the beautiful country
And the train that brought me here in travels 
Thanks I say for a beautiful journey you gave me
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Saturday, 17 September 2011

God Made Me

Just before I pass off, pass on, stretch hands
And hand over battens, not yet, but
To the next in line, like legacy
Battens in rally ran, its your turn  

Whispering guidance
And lessons learnt
Take care on this road
It is long and treacherous

But full of hope and beauty
I have lived it, I know it
Suffered in its toil to gain its reward
Like harvest day, fruits in baskets 

Bring out your baskets
And be sent blessed
By his goodness, God gracious
Every day shower 

God made me, he ordained me 
So from the beginning I was destined
To be greater than great
The greatest in my own endeavours 

But never on a silver plate, 
To be placed, like the king on chess game
It is the journey that count,
It is the part, that is blessed the most, in blessing

To find myself, through gutters dug 
And know what I am made of, 
Capable now, to dance with the lions 
I am to be tested, to prove my worth

And stand on my own two feet  
Accomplished, no wobbles 
I am on top of the world with birds eye view
I see all, on the landscape

God made me
God made me
God made me

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Friday, 16 September 2011

Sacrificed Altars

The communion and wine  
Is known by all who partake in it's ritual  
To be made of, flesh and blood  

It bleeds, not for the joy of sacrifice 
Or wanting death, less not in value for life 
Like one may think of self harm  

But to feel alive and to hold on to living  
So love and life is tested, 
For what course one engages in  

And the goal post are set, to suit 
Established in sizes and forms 
Made to measure on faith of believers 

It is only for the training grounds 
That opposition is made absent
Bubble wrapped, tip toe on offence  

For the prince who plays 
Sword fights in his backyard
W' his servants, a' claims to know battle 

Scars are formed like harvest 
After cuts and bruises, bleed 
I carry a few on my shoulders 

Most beneath skin tissue, the deepest, the widest  
It is self harm on courses chosen 
What do you bleed for

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Thursday, 15 September 2011

In Between Lives

I will have to call out, the pigeons 
And ask if they would be prepared 
To carry out my wish 

Send a message, from the trenches 
To my love ones 
Tell them I am in-between lives 

Making a transformation  
From what once was  
To what is to be 

This stage reached has been long 
Like an overdue pregnancy 
And I wait impatient for deliverance 

Though I know sometimes on wise thoughts 
I sneeze on rush, results of which 
Scatters my gold dust, among sea sands  

I try to harness the virtue  of patience  
Learning to thread the needle's eye 
I am made of more, much more I know it 

Much more than what I hold  
Loose change so precious 
I fear even losing those sometimes 

Am I to believe the oracle? 
Who looked into my arms and for told   
She giggled like small prints before authoring words 

If so, and I am to take one, in short cuts 
From her  in gifts she offers  
Then another I would be forced to take 

For in her baskets, in prices to pay 
She has within hidden rotten apples 
Just behind the ripest of them all 

So no, I choose to make it on my own 
I only ask if you will be prepared 
To carry out my wish, oh friend of feathers  

Send a message to love ones 
To tell them I am in-between lives 
Closer to deliverance 
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