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America has been bribed

Maybe America is not the cause
Of many wars that break in the world
But could very well be a catalyst
For many wars and cold wars that last.
America has been given a bribe
In the form of the Nobel Prize for peace.
Obama will sure fight America
To justify the prize granted to him.
17.10.2009

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Once The Living Of Life Has Been Given More Respect

One doesn't necessarily,
Have to come to appreciate life...
By being knocked off one's feet,
During a bout with reality.
With a looking at the ground closely.
And from a different perspective.
To come to realize the ground is solid!
And extremely supportive.

Humbling although it may be,
To uncover this awakening experience...
Many have discovered it is the best way,
To eliminate delusions much quicker.
With some finding it very beneficial,
To learn truth and honesty...
Ultimately pays sweet dividends.
Once the living of life has been given more respect.

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The Last Barrier

On angel wings, I fly so high
like a little bird up in the sky.
No, body no more to anchor me
to an earth full of misery.
My mind is at peace at last
no worries for my brow to crease.
The last barrier has been passed
a new existence in front of me.
Regrets for wrongs done
have vanished from a heavy heart.
Gone are all the yesterdays
that haunted and held me,
now like the little bird I am free
to fly away from what held
my soul in captivity.
Now that I have crossed the last barrier.


4 March 2012

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Passing Perpetual Cemeteries En Route To The Eventual Wedding

Like a salt seasoned
chain smoking
speakeasy sleuth:
A mind's eye Sam Spade -
too tired to care, sporting a shadowy
jungle growth of shipwrecked
castaway facial hair,
tongue lapped by the sailor's briny thirst,
I prematurely snuff out my cigarette,
pick up my trusty sidekick pen,
pocket traveling notebook and survey the room.
Suspicious sundry of circumstance and motive
outlining the alcohol enthralled milieu
As I write, a pale citrine curious
beam of clean lemon light
illuminates the paper thin margins;
empty space uniting each individual word;
second hand smoke upwreathes in
casual succession rising and dissipating,
rising and dissipating
like dusty noire barroom clockwork.

Wounded, wandering
day by day;
stranded, staggering
place to place,
suffering great distances;
the observer's remote outpost;
the stomach's timedelayed homesickness

My scattered attention span
buzzing in and out;
a myriad of mind numbing conversations,
like a hive sick pollen drunk bee
without flower to land,
stuck in the sinuous sticky-sweet
honeycomb of day to day deja vu.

Perdition's long cherished tradition
Tip-tip-tipplin' time away
Drinking with a purpose
Drinking to forget
Drinking to converse
Drinking with Vesuvian vengeance
in a Sudden hiccup rumbling
feeling the night go from bad to worse

still nursing the effects of last night's
life long hang over
Every night passing perpetual cemeteries en route to the eventual wedding
Every night another daughter given away
Every night reciting more drunken vows

The groom gives his life away and still retains his suit?

nightly nuptial regurgitation
I'm wedded to the floor
didnt we play this mad machines game already
Havent we sat in these exact broke back
rocking chairs before?

A year ago was it? Maybe a month?
Yesterday? Last night?
Perhaps in some vague speck of memory
belonging to a distant life.
Who can ever remember
I myself can vaguely recall

Staggering on and in my moist riverbed shoes
After sinking my feet during a deep session
of drunken stream-side meditation,
Off to the bar in search of some special native earthling
someone one earth especially naïve enough to to take me home

yaw yaw yaw to and fro
yawn yawn yawn further
away my attention goes
feign formal feign normal
waning conversations
blanking stares
Licking cocktail lips
flashing bedpost eyelashes
quickly outrunning my own pace

Tell me, Are you the wobbling
turveying mirror talking in my dreams?

Is this the line for fun house admittance?

Are you young and trusting?
Are you willing and waiting to be broken?

Say, Who's invading the moon at this hour?
Quick, Someone should wake and warn Buzz Aldrin!

Oh close the night shade - I'm bottomed out,
everyone can see straight through the
burgundy stained porthole of my submerged mouth.
Ahoy! My wine glass remains stubborn,
also hard of hearing,
Its tongue wont stop gnawing and lashing my ear.

Ersatz sense of tranquility
artificial mind alteration
false reassurances offered by
a superfluous flow of
superficial nerve stupor
Transient ghosts of self
fleeting like so many opaque puffs of smoke.

Coming down now, in need of a fix:
the female touch is a drug!
No high like the liberating rush induced by the flesh!
Frustrations of a withdrawn heart;
addiction leading my alcohol fueled pursuit,
Flipping countless cards in search of the perfect mental match:

Kindred wildness,
a fellow turbulent weather lover,
an untamed yet to be named sheer black sheep spirit,
Someone with a shared reckless reverence for life,
though still reverential enough to enjoy
the intimacy of storm-bound summer nights.

I don't want to be bothered by another bored android!
I refuse to contend with a black berry for your attention!
I want to feel face to face affection!
No online or cell phone connections!
I don't care about designer shoes!
I won't sit through another mindless sappy spew
of box office radio branded love!
I don't want another suburban girl
who sits with her suburban friends
thinking acting talking and dressing
all in the same overpriced fashion.

I want a barefoot flower child for my bride!
With an Authentic tan, true daughter of the sun!
Free flowing honey dirt locks or
hair the color of roasted coffee,
sweet warm melt chocolate pools for her eyes
or an iris outshining clear bright azure skies,
A smile like a sharp sexy knife
that could very well kill me!
Voice of feathers and wine
to tickle the torment from body and mind,
Laughter like lightning carving lightfilled paths in an overcast sky,
Mind that strikes like a match in the dark,
igniting the torch song of summer,
presence of starlight to fuel me on powerless nights,
quick draw pistol wit to send my heart off
running marathon distances.
Body of substance, all-naturale
Flavor and texture of almond and cherry
fleshsoft sweet manna
thigh's tender firm nourishment.

With the intense brevity of a cloudburst
or sudden impact of a car crash,
I empty the summer's furtive
all night flask,
counting up drunkenly grasped
fragments of a shattered hourglass,
my tremulous palm, a scarred and bloody
tiger's paw.

Still I shall go on,
transgressing the edges of earth,
kicking up rocks and dust,
leaving a trail of cherry pits in my wake,
barefooted over every harsh mile of terrain,
braving the heart's lonesome via dolorosa,
facing fear fatigue hunger and insomnia,
standing strong in the teeth of murderous weather,
enduring the worst element's of loves lifelong gauntlet,

To reach you in time, (whoever/where-ever)
there is no distance I will not travel,
no flag, fortune or land
Would I not surrender,
Now lady luck,
I ask for you to please,
come and meet me halfway.

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Maybe I Am Not

Maybe i am not the one you want,
But i am different from the others;
Maybe i am not the one you are looking for,
But i am very different from the others;
And my sweet love will touch you one day!
For, i have what it takes to make you glad always.

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Not To Argue Needlessly

You don't like the tone of my voice.
Or the way in which it is used?
That's unfortunate.
Not for me.
But for you.
Since this is my voice.

You may choose to ignore it.
That's up to you.
You've been planted and fix like a brick wall.
And using my voice to call over it,
I don't have to do at all.

All I have to do to remove you,
Is to discuss this with my Father.
And not a voice between us do we share,
To get what appears to be an obstacle...
Off my path!

And this 'voice' you hear?
He has been given to me,
To deliver and clarify a message.
Not to argue needlessly.
He and I both know that is pointless.
Eventually you will get the message.

Have a good day!

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Earth Angels

(4/4/12)

They live and walk amongst us- yet you would never know
For their wings they never show.
They don't come in a misty cloud
Or flying down from the sky.
For they live here on earth walking with you and I.

They are watching over us
in more ways than I could count
This is what they do - this is what they're about.

They lead us on the path of righteousness
When we seem to be going astray
And show us the light, to live a better way.

How many times have you felt something
Was de ja vu - not realizing the angel was
Walking alongside of you.

We are all born with a guardian angel
Which has been given to us by GOD above
To show us faith, peace and love.

They work with the earth angels and
Give them a report, so between the two
Of them, our lessons can be taught.

Our earth angels- are everywhere you go
And which one is yours - that you'll never know.

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Given to Entertaining

The novelty of the differentness has worn off.
Folks want to know,
What aspect of their lives will show significant gains,
That will reflect and be known!

Too much attention has been given to entertaining.
Racists quips from lipstick lips,
Will not solve the urgency...
That slips from the grip of those holding onto a seriousness.

Images that depict change with only more of the same remaining...
Squeezes patience from the minds of those,
Have chosen to collect their peace.
And leave behind those who have taken time,
To get wound up in such foolish scuttlebutt.

The issues are as clear as recently cleaned glass.
For those pretending not to see their demise,
Can only observe what is being done to the middle class.
Just open your eyes.
They are the ones being exhausted and drained!
While deceiving politicians say what folks want to hear.
Filling their pockets by telling lies,
And play the 'F. U.' games everyone endears.

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Look Not At

Look not at what he or she appears
They are the same since years
Their sweet voice ring constantly in ears
They are our real brothers, sisters and neighbors

I never saw ugliness
But read only happiness
When they spoke few nice words
That was as if blessings appeared from the lords

What we all need in real journey?
When not needed wealth or money?
Few words do the real trick
When we have strong resolve to stick

What makes us to feel for outer show?
May be some irritation when it grows
For a face unfamiliar or with ugly appearance
That has been given by almighty at once

Who can undo it for any good reason?
But an individual can be nice person
Good at heart and full of compassion
That is all needed now for good relation

I used to read lovely messages
When they may speak nothing due to old age
But I catch the intention when look at
Their eyes seems full of thanks when fully set

What can be good if beautiful face turns cruel?
With nothing in store to express or tell
I love ugly people (God forbade me)
Who always love and pose no trouble

I wish to be one among
Even if they go anytime wrong
I shall cherish their inner beauty
When they speak little but with blessings from almighty

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Giving A Poem Away

A person asked if they can use my comment/poem.
I said sure without even asking why.
Giving a poem away, that put things in a different perspective for me.
I didn't even title it yet or edit it so I see no harm.
I told them to give her a name, and fix her mistakes.
Full consent has been given with a signature signed.
I doubt they'll use it for profit anyways nor do I really care.
For I'm not in it for the money.
Not that their much money to be made in writing anyways at least from what I understand.
So I hope it serves a good purpose whatever that maybe.

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You Told My Mom

Ladies...
Word up...!
If your man is...

Getting out of hand...
Don't tell his...
Father, man...

Tell his mom...
Oh, yeah...
Mom will let him know...
He is out of hand...

Momma don't play that...
When you get fat...
Run and tell that...

Momma don't play...
She'll be there...
Making things OK...

Call her...
Tell her...
For he does not...
Want her to know...

That his character has been poor...
So tell mom...
He is flicking up...

Mom will do him like one...
Does a pup...
Shut...him right...the flick up...

Until next time...

whisperkwane
swtlamb@yahoo.com

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Remembrance Sunday 2001

That war word, has been given meaning yet again,
As we meet in the shadow of the twin towers
Seeking to remember those who died
In what seems so long ago, freedom remains illusive.
Freedom from fear, freedom to speak, freedom to worship.
So on this day, we say our thanks, with gratitude
To the names etched here long ago.
Remember with pride the sacrifice they made for us
Remember to the young who fight today
To keep that flame of freedom lit
Throughout our world, for all people
Remember to that single sacrifice
On a hill outside Jerusalem,
The one who called the world to love
Whose words inspire today’s, humanity
To seek that which is the ultimate power
To love your neighbour as yourself
The greatest challenge of all.
To become powerless, in a world
That seeks for power by domination

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No Thanks Is Needed

It is a good feeling
when you help someone in distress,
impart on them the knowledge
that you have gained.
You feel a great satisfaction
and no thanks is needed.
You are doing something
we should all do at times,
holding out our hand and helping another.
Each of us has been given a gift
and it is how we use that gift
which is the important thing.
If we use that gift
to import happiness into someone’s life
making them feel better within themselves.
How wonderful we feel
whenever they smile with satisfaction
knowing they have done something
to make a dream come true.
We need no thanks for this,
as it is what everyone should do.
Holding out a helping hand
no matter how far it has to stretch
and we can then rest on these words.
Do onto others, as you would
have them do onto you.

7 January 2008

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George Bernard Shaw

Beauty is all very well at first sight; but who ever looks at it when it has been in the house three days?

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Thomas Hardy

At Day-Close In November

The ten hours' light is abating,
And a late bird flies across,
Where the pines, like waltzers waiting,
Give their black heads a toss.

Beech leaves, that yellow the noon-time,
Float past like specks in the eye;
I set every tree in my June time,
And now they obscure the sky.

And the children who ramble through here
Conceive that there never has been
A time when no tall trees grew here,
A time when none will be seen.

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William Shakespeare

Sonnet 21: So is it not with me as with that muse

So is it not with me as with that muse,
Stirred by a painted beauty to his verse,
Who heaven it self for ornament doth use
And every fair with his fair doth rehearse,
Making a couplement of proud compare
With sun and moon, with earth and sea's rich gems,
With April's first-born flowers, and all things rare
That heaven's air in this huge rondure hems.
O, let me, true in love, but truly write,
And then, believe me, my love is as fair
As any mother's child, though not so bright
As those gold candles fixed in heaven's air.
Let them say more that like of hearsay well;
I will not praise that purpose not to sell.

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Embarrassing Predicament

If everything had been given to him,
As has been rumored and believed.
Where did he obtain that work ethic from?
And how was that achieved?

'That is what has been given to him.
And that is what folks unbelieving,
Can not conceive.
Although that is clearly seen! '

But if he is the lazy one...
What have the others done?

'Good question.
Perhaps that is why they remain in hiding.
There is nothing like the exposure of full disclosure.
Or the silence heard from one producing.
Unseduced by rumors, innuendo or slander.'

Or an embarrassing predicament,
Experienced by fools with minds confused.
Who still find excuses to meander.

'Either way.
He gets done what he does,
With very little to say.
He needs to be teaching that.'

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(Lyric) Setting Papers On Fire...

Remember that old fire place
we sat in front of
talking girl and taking
time out to make love
well that fire place and me
we're still keeping company
but lately my desire
is setting papers on fire..

i've been burning up pictures
old cards and letters too
don't need reminders
to remind me of you
I used to want to keep
the memory of loving you
but lately my desire's
setting papers on fire..

remember that old bathtub
we bought at a sale?
sure held a lot of water
oh, the tales that it could tell
well i busted it to pieces
and i put a hot tub there
been getting rid of memories
girl they was every where

I've been burning up old pictures
old cards and letters too
don't need reminders
to remind me of you
i used to want to keep
those memories of loving you
but lately my desires's setting papers on fire...
lately my desire's
setting papers on fire...

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The War for Peace!

The world that is moving fast
With its haste people
Forgetting
The moral diction and ethics
That used to be the verse of humanity
Non-violence and forgiveness are lost
Leaving chaos and bedlam to mushroom
And prosper,
What an ironic lectern
The people are walking on
For the sake of peace
Indulging themselves at the battlefield
An unending war for peace is on,
Countries muscling each-other
For they want to cater peace
Extremists brief there own reasons
For the prey,
The War for peace!
Isn’t it hypocrisy at its peak?

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If The Intention For Peace Was Reached

The madness that is there,
And some have declared...
Is for them in the sharing of it!
Is there for them to declare,
Ruin upon humanity.

If it is recognized for what it is,
And attempts are made to prevent...
An existence of it,
Is a legitimate undertaking.

Only,
And if...
It is not presented,
As a natural occurrence.

It isn't!

There is nothing natural,
About the spreading of a disease.
Prevention would not be mentioned,
If the intention for peace was reached.

Conflicts, chaos and division....
Have been made neccessities of life,
By those wishing to inflict,
A desperate attachment they have...
To self destruct!
And those validating a destruction,
To maintain a peace...
Worship the wicked ways of demons.

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A Nobel Prize For Peace!

A NOBLE PRIZE FOR PEACE!
When the dove returned to Noah’s arch, -
With an olive branch in its beak,
Noah knew that the flood waters have begun
to recede!
The Dove remain as our symbol of Peace!
But now when we look up at the sky,
There are more hawks than doves flying up
high!

Yet there are many who work in anonymity,
For the sake of peace and to alleviate poverty,
Without any kind of publicity!
For long religious bigotry, cast and creed,
Have distanced us from that elusive peace, -
Spreading violence amongst our midst!
So now I sincerely do hope and pray,
That this Noble Prize for Peace shall one day,
Bringing that elusive peace on our way!
Despite what the ‘hawks’ might have to say!
With best wishes for President Obama on
this day!

-Raj Nandy
14 Oct 09
New Delhi

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