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The Echo Of The Words

when you say something
i simply copy and paste
and you think i am not ok
when you say something
i simply copy and paste
and you think i am not ok
when you say something
i simply copy and paste
and you think i am not ok
when you say something
i simply copy and paste
and you think i am not ok

but i am ok, i am ok, i am ok.

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Nail-Pierced Hands

Cut and Paste My Love:
As I rise from the
Gutter's darkness-blind
But the strong nail-pierced
Hands grip mine and pull -
Then wash me by Blood

Copy-Paste My Mercy:
As I lean forward
To that gutter again -
See the nail-piercings'
Shadows on my hands
As I reach out to you
By that same flood of love

Paste and Save My Heart:
As we walk each day
Together side by side
Closer to Your glory
Step by step toward Home -

[...] Read more

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A Sweet Man (two poems)

A Sweet Man

Wistfully, our noses pressed against the window
we'd watch the man rolling and kneading,
kneading sweet paste into a long, twisted snake.

His big strong hands worked adeptly
as the smell wafted from the door.
Our mouths watered, our eyes grew big.

Every now and then he'd look up and wink.
Sometimes he'd beckon us to come in
and we'd ask him lots of questions.

'What are those? ' 'What flavour are they? '
'Can we buy one for a penny? '
He'd never answer, he'd just carry on.

On good days, without saying a word,
he'd bag up some scraps and give us all a treat.

[...] Read more

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Seasonal Cycle - Chapter 01 - Summer

"Oh, dear, this utterly sweltering season of the highly rampant sun is drawing nigh, and it will always be good enough to go on taking daytime baths, as the lakes and rivers will still be with plenteous waters, and at the end of the day, nightfall will be pleasant with fascinating moon, and in such nights Love-god can somehow be almost mollified...[who tortured us in the previous vernal season... but now without His sweltering us, we can happily enjoy the nights devouring cool soft drinks and dancing and merrymaking in outfields...]

"Oh, beloved one, somewhere the moon shoved the blackish columns of night aside, somewhere else the palace-chambers with water [showering, sprinkling and splashing] machines are highly exciting, and else where the matrices of gems, [like coolant pearls and moon-stone, etc.,] are there, and even the pure sandalwood is liquefied [besides other coolant scents,] thus this season gets an adoration from all the people...

"The beloved ones will enjoy the summer's clear late nights while they are atop the rooftops of buildings that are delightful and fragranced well, while they savour the passion intensifiers like strong drinks and while the ladylove's face suspires the bouquets of those drinks together with melodious instrumental and vocal music...

"The women are ameliorating the heat of their lovers with their chicly silken coolant fineries gliding onto their rotund fundaments, for they are knotted loosely, and on those silks glissading are their golden cinctures with their dangling tassels that are unfastened on and off, and with their buxom bosoms that are bedaubed with sandal-paste and semi-covered with pearly strings and golden lavalieres, and with their locks of hair that are sliding onto their faces, which locks are fragrant with bath-time emulsions, which are just applied before their oil bath...

"Brightly coloured with the reddish foot-paint that is akin to the colour of lac's reddish resin, adorned with anklets that are festooned with jingling bells, whose tintinnabulations on their stepping after stepping mimic the clucks of swans, with such feet those women with bumpy behinds are rendering the hearts of people impassioned, in these days of pre-summer...

"These days the bosoms of womenfolk are bedaubed with scents and sandal-paste, and they are given out to snowily and whitely pearly pendants that are sported on those bosoms, and even their hiplines are with the dangling golden griddle-strings, with such a lovely ostentation whose heart is it, that does not fill with raptures...

"The seams of limbs of ladies of age are conquered by the often emerging sweat, thus those peaky bosomed lustful ladies are presently banding their bosoms with softish fineries, casting aside their roughish apparels ...

"The rustles of air comprising the aroma of watered sandal-paste, blown off by the fans with peacocks' plumage, and the rustle of strings of pearls when the roundish bosoms of loves are hugged, together with the subtle melody of string instruments, and subtly sung intonations of singers, now appear to awaken Love-god, Manmatha, who is as though asleep after his manoeuvres in the last spring season...

"On leisurely seeing the faces of the maids that are comfortably sleeping well on the tops of whitish edifices, the moon of these nights is highly ecstasized, for he is unpossessed with any such flawless face, as his own face is flawed with rabbit-like, deer-like foibles, and when the night dwindles, he doubtlessly goes into state of pallidity, as though ashamed to show his face to the flawless sun...

"The intolerable westerly wind of the summer is up-heaving the clouds of dust, even the earth is ablaze, set by the blazing sun, and the itinerants whose hearts are already put to blaze by the blazing called the detachment from their ladyloves, and now it has become impossible for them even to look at the blazing earth, to tread further...

[...] Read more

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Battle Of Hastings - II

OH Truth! immortal daughter of the skies,
Too lyttle known to wryters of these daies,
Teach me, fayre Saincte! hy passynge worthe to pryze,
To blame a friend and give a foeman prayse.
The fickle moone, bedeckt wythe sylver rays,
Leadynge a traine of starres of feeble lyghte,
With look adigne the worlde belowe surveies,
The world, that wotted not it coud be nyghte;
Wyth armour dyd, with human gore ydeyd,
The sees Kynge Harolde stande, fayre Englands curse and pryde.
With ale and vernage drunk his souldiers lay;
Here was an hynde, anie an erlie spredde;
Sad keepynge of their leaders natal daie!
This even in drinke, toomorrow with the dead!
Thro' everie troope disorder reer'd her hedde;
Dancynge and heideignes was the onlie theme;
Sad dome was theires, who lefte this easie bedde,
And wak'd in torments from so sweet a dream.
Duke Williams menne, of comeing dethe afraide,
All nyghte to the great Godde for succour askd and praied.

[...] Read more

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Emily Dickinson

We play at paste,

We play at paste,
Till qualified for pearl,
Then drop the paste,
And deem ourself a fool.
The shapes, though, were similar,
And our new hands
Learned gem-tactics
Practising sands.

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Copy & Paste

Of course it was copy and paste like honey and lemon drop.
A gleam of humor coming from skies to my beloved eden.
Assure that stich coming from a different heaven.
Of course it is not copy nor paste like lime and linden tea.

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Quite Clever But Not Unique

With no thought to think,
Those who cut and paste...
Assume a creativity is taking place.
With a re-arrangement done,
As if an innovation from them comes.

Quite clever but not unique,
Is their technique.
With hopes what they do...
Is sought by others with depth to teach.
As they cut, paste and leech.

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Give Peace A Chance

give peace a chance
lets make love
clothe me in white
the colour of peace
paste hope in ur soul
paste love in ur heart
whisper words of love
respect words of freedom
follow ur heart
follow ur dreams
follow ur happiness
give peace a chance make love not war
nothing to kill or die for
give people a chance
to live life in peace
u may say im a dreamer but IM NOT THE ONLY ONE!

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The Jailers Door

My blood pressure went up today
When the jailer said walk this way

It wasn’t his tone of voice you see
Rather the steel door that closed
Behind me

An impromptu visit it would be
To see a brother of the Cree
Incarcerated for living mischievously

40 ounces and a stolen car
Won’t get you very far
The police in hot pursuit
Didn’t give a hoot

That Victor did not steel the car
He said the ride was all he took
Now that’s enough for the lawman’s hook
He’ll do two year for this silly charge

[...] Read more

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