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Exile In Majestic Silence

EXILE IN MAJESTIC SILENCE
esspeecee

# Exile in silence,
Majestic silence
Silence, but not to:
blunt senses.
To sharpen…
be more eloquent…
be greater creative…
inside the within,
and within….
[Silence is golden] #

# ‘No-Entry’ board:
to din and bustle,
to topsy turvy,
One way traffic,
Bubbles of subconscious,
For synthesis / creation.

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poem by Dr. Sakti P. Chakravorty
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Die Or Fly

Dangerous Reality TV ‘Hoarders' - people
collecting trash till drowning in houses like
garbage dumps made me feel I have to get
rid of my papers and books, life's useless;
at least I tidied my cupboard

Books read yesterday led to nihilism, wilful
acceptance of mental handcuffs unsettling,
self-declared intention to take free-thinkers
hostage, ‘Feet of Clay': Discworld religious
groups calling Golems an abomination

Just as Internet clergy reject codes in Bible; I
respect their right to self-righteously despise
anything they cannot comprehend - as long
as I never get to meet them, determined to
flee all causes of depression

Reading newspapers a disaster except when
Adapt Or Die becomes Adapt Or Fly, I had

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poem by Margaret Alice Second
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Laissez-Faire Despair

I measure my state of depression by the books I am able to read,
when it becomes impossible to enjoy any hilarious romp by Terry
Pratchett, when Ecclesiastes and Proverbs are the only reading
material with any relevance - my mental gyroscope has come to
a standstill

As noise irritates me more and pressure is forcing me out of my
head and all I want is darkness, silence and death, it is time to
take drastic steps to feel better again, as I waft about in a smell
of Vicks VapoRub and swallow coloured pills by the handful
hour after hour

And start to hate and despise all forms of consciousness and life,
seeking the meaning of existence as opposed to happy non-being,
it is time to visit a quack to obtain poisonous concoctions and life-
shortening toxins to take the seasonal discomfort away, to stop
the disease

Which leads straight to the nihilism of laissez-faire despair

poem by Margaret Alice Second
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Poetical Injustice,

Poetical Injustice,
They say poetry is all the feign verses,
It's a lie,
A big lie,
Poetry liers and false prophets,
To write false feigned verses,

Maybe like poetic injustice,
The vices I hate,
Hate poems,
Never knew anything about optimism,
Poetical blasphemies,
The false samaritan,
The Jezebel,
I saw her here,
Telling me,
Poet is the lie,
This is a Blasphemy,
Poet came from the true prophets,
The Saint's of these verses,

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poem by Maxim Muyu
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Brain Without Orientation (Revised)

Quite content with my lot having finished
Rob Parsons ‘The Heart of Success, Making
it in Business without Losing in Life' - given
my shortcomings and limitations, and
specifically, the allergy

I couldn't have lived a self-absorbed creator's
passionate life, but I'm delighted to do
assembly-line translation for Government
departments, achieving the most important
goal: happy relationships;

My nuclear family is kindness itself - poet
brother a wise mentor who safeguards my
mental health, my twin sister much happier
now that her dreams are fulfilled - in short,
life's improving

Though phenomenological Zen-Buddhist
existence is impossible due to the allergy

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poem by Margaret Alice Second
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RCLH - 2 # [‘Random Couplets On Love And Hate]

RCLH - 2 # [‘Random Couplets On Love And Hate]
esspeecee

[continued from last post 29.08.09.]

Love is befitting,
Hate is misfitting.

Love opens,
Hate closes.

Love is dynamic,
Hate is inertic.

Love is licit,
Hate is illicit.

Love is optimism,
Hate is pessimism. [6]

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poem by Dr. Sakti P. Chakravorty
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What This Poetry Is Trying To Achieve

nothing and no one
saves us

from this life
death situation

now you must
realize the purpose of
poetry

it does not save us
from death or
hunger or
pain

though it can lessen
this misery
like a pillow in our
heads when
we really badly need

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poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Angels War

Forest of dark labyrinth hides
Sighs of twisted olive trees rise
Spanish dungeons filled with devils
She time travels into eternity
Her ragged doll filled with blood
Peasant mother killed by dark riders
Talk too spirits in the forest
Saints without decomposed bodies
Divine kings oppress the masses
Secular man shall shine like heaven
Spinoza, Kant, Hegel, Nietzsche, Marx
Revolutions burning with nihilism
We are the insane offspring of confusion
Welcome to causes to politics and sides
Horned creatures with mauve eyes
Dreams where fairies anoint hope

Mirrors that lead too oblivion
Mercantile visions where fire dances
Starfish red as Jupiter’s angels

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poem by Joseph Narusiewicz
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America, The Dead

I can see it,
I can feel it through the mess halls
of the darkest and damndest ghettos of America,
Its truth moves me like a Greek tragedy.
Only this tragedy is the sad tragedy of the American project.
The project of unique individualism intertwined with a deeper collectivism.
Truthfulness, Character, Honor, and politics which serve
For the people, the power taken back from the highest given to the lowest and
given to all.
Yet it has not to be nor does it seem to be heading that direction.
Materialism, Militarism,
Greed and an undeniable nihilism deeply rooted in the
psyche of all who call themselves
America.
Alive, hopefully, is the fire which should be stirred not once more, but always-
For democracy is action, a way of life, not a state of ruling.
Yet through and through America's poorest parts,
And underprivileged,
From the blacks and latinos to the whites and the natives,
America has yet to have found itself.

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poem by Randy Briggs
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Lyrics that flows like the river

Scentless water allay to thou of thy compunction
Rhymes so fluid but a nomadic river when in function
From neophyte training to intense extreme succinct poetry
Rhythms to bars so remissive, you can call it floetry
It brings remediation to thou who feel repel
Clear as crystal and relish to thou who are in the nadir of hell
As purge as a nefarious man cleanse from his practice
Merges thy to the neonates washing all the heart of black magic

A fresh smell to the noisome odor
A warm chamber when time gets colder
Tempted times brings attentive rhymes
Competitive lines but not as competitive as mines
My ritual is divine to brethrens and my God
I’m a fisherman who caught the heart with a rod

Lyrics with the spirits of fulfillment of inspiration
Repeal the dead reminiscence and excel conspiracies
Of renewal pacific waves that will eternally endure
Of poetic words that will have your disease cure

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poem by Alvin Parkinson
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