Of eating our young
Of betraying the future
Of lying to the mirror
Of remaining in bondage
Of feeding our fears
Of constantly denying…
That God exists!
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i have been accused of being an ornery old man, perhaps
or tolerance for ignorance.however, when i come in contact with another humanbeing i always try to see them through their own eyes…my abiding thought and intent is respect, grounded indignity…i will go out of my way to listen, and to help.but both of us have to pull the oars!
age questions…
and sacrifice…but the shadow i’ve castwouldnt even fill a thimble!my ego rears up in outrage,swearing at least the thimblewould bear my name….while my soul walks off laughing in disgust,at the absurdity of identity!
the spoon in our hands
our choice to turn away,buries those afflicted by war.when we take first,without a thought to giving…we bury the body of god,among the poor and the homeless.
the sheriff’s department finally
you know, the one over onthe bad end of townhell, the whole neighborhoodwas trouble… there’d been reportsof a meth lab nearby.anyway, no one went therebut minorities, trailer trashand a few illegals…and that Hispanic looking dudethat ran it you know, ‘Jesus’,passing out food and prophylactics,taking them wired out kids to rehab…helping those unwed teenage motherslearn to…
there’s a small fire burning
he had not seenfor some time…the kaleidoscope of tiny breaths’each one personal and real;like tiny sparks with nameslong forgotten….the heart is a kingdomof it’s own making and design;full of the precious now lostin the howl of the night.and he stands on the precipice,angry, tired, bitter….without choice, without meaning…and no reason to be.let there be peace…
‘missing in action’…
dont get your hopes up,we’re doing all we can…she lay on the bedand wept uncontrollably…the little boy sat in the darkness,thinking…he got down off his bed,and down on his knees:‘God, if you’re out there,if you’re real…help my mommy, help me,bring my daddy home! ‘the room was still,he could hear his own breathing…suddenly light poured throughthe…
is the battle to surrender
to that which was there
before all battles.
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The midwife’s tidying up
and there you are; wrinkled; pinkwith a glow that no man ever made;and I, a part of you for ever, yetknowing, now, you’re you…one day in a little timeI’ll take you for your first High Street outingin the pram or baby buggy;trying to pretend you’re someone else’s…not one I’d fight my life for..pausing to allow…
I would live in that sort of space
Instead, I take off my shoes at the door,feel my bare toes on the polished woodwork,settle into the chair, take outthe big square book entitled ‘Japanese Style’,and with the contented sigh of onewho knows that solitude isa status symbol in Japan,give the body a rest, while the mind,with its clever skills, no sweat,as into a…
Hassless
she watched him watching her.He wrote his music; thought of her,sixtyish, Japanese; flat-breasted like a boy;she brushed her paintings; thought of him,young, eyes like an untamed pony;he grew to love the discipline in her painting;she loved straightway his wild indiscipline.That warm night when, on her tidy, well-swept doorstep,music yet unwritten met rice-paper yet to be…
The Lord, the Merciful, has taught you this:
made order in the world; made plants and trees;which blessing of the Lord would you deny?He made the heavens; set balance in all things,through laws which, followed, keep you close to Him,and watches over you afresh each day;which blessing of the Lord would you deny?The earth, its fruits and grain and scented herbs;salt water in…
You don’t hear the word
It floated into the mindthis morning in the middleof a fit of gloomscall it grace ifyou believe in gracecarefreeit comes without stringslike an escaping balloona blue balloon ora thinks balloonno documents to signno commitmentno promises, no-one toforgive, not evenmyself, noteven a solemn declarationabout giving up all otherall a bit easy, no wonderit’s out of fashionwell…
To greet you
to bow down, look up, to the Lord in youwhat more perfect, easy, pure,than to fill a ritualthat needs no thought to planwith all the heart may present offer; .to join my hands and bow my eyesthat see now only Him,raise them to see Him in you;only perfect then remainsnamaste
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Kill
All;
Stop these cursed wars
Of massacre.
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I see them playing it
Hide and sick and hide and sick;Some are treating forwardSome are retreating thatWith some tools to box and kick;They are out of any shameJust like nonsense childrenFor all the times quite and quite.Copyright © Muzahidul Reza| 28 November,2017
To swim in the sea is interesting
But fear is the hungry tide roaringAnytime hungry sharks may finish a life.Copyright © Muzahidul Reza | 06/30/2017
Behind Pleasure
Coming out of inner worldRolling down the surfaceThe springs form into riverThe river flows to the sea with pleasure,But the river does not knowWhat the springs know.
Life is a big field
Weed out, manureWell seed, waterAll time well careNeed be too awareOf any kind dangerAny type invaderThat from any sideAnd in any period,Then hope is forIn life to be gainerWith proper harvestIn the life contest.
Fag
HugEase,For your good healthAnd earn enough.AboutRARe Stanza:– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –…
Do
BeGood;Avoid chaos,Evil, wrong, too.
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Of Life in Beauty’s prime,
Ragged nations, tragic stations,
Blood of helpless in our path,
Greatest Crime of human wrath,
Never ending, never past,
Will you thus forever last?
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I’m sensitive to words,
Silences don’t set well,Language is a quenching well,Where the waters of sentiment flow,Where intelligence can glow,It has brought us forth from darkness,To the embracement of civilization,From the Stone Age,Made us into great Nations,Do not let this Light,Be buried in the damnation,Of the barbarous, savage throws,Of incomprehension, that knows,No civilized orientation.Intelligence and Language,Plus human feelings,Of compassion…
Everything sad,
Ever since I realized,That pain and death existCaused mainly by the clenchedFist,Of one man against another,It’s so true, that we cannotTrust one anotherAnd maybe, they are rightMurder seems to be,A continual curse,Throughout, History!Carried out, systematicallyBy some, monstersWithout human souls or charterAfter all, Cain killed AbleAnd he was his own brother.
Poems
CompanyBut sometimesAre incomplete,If not accompaniedBy the sentimentOf LoveThat makes them,Even more sweet.
The Hand that saves,
For us to chose,It’s called ‘Free Will’
Oh, that empty feeling,
When nothing really sets,And things go round and round.Oh, that empty feeling,When Love is not around,And all you do is co-exist,Without making a sound….
Life is Strange,
It obeys no rules,Is afraid of no danger,Soothing the emptinessOf fears and loneliness.