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The Cycle of PassionNever knowing eyes never did haunt us
’Tis our own ditty which fails to daunt us;
The amorous rose or the lovebird’s lustre
Leaves but two shades for a season’s fluster,
Yet the poet’s pen is perchance guided
With rabid romance, nature unprovided -
For summer songs are bare conversation
Betwixt life and long winter’s predation:
Pale thirst for passion or higher power
Quenches its quaff in the quiet hour,
The soul’s tragedy is in demanding
Liberty lost from body remanding
Creation’s cold woes and callous joys, cannot grace
Vanity’s visage or the selfsame face,
In vain, we swallow the daily smother
To love ourselves, we love another.
Sleep Well, My SoulSleep well, my soul, the light has passed
’Tis dark, this closing hour,
Rest in peace, sweet life, at last
Let your toils awake a flower.
Dream deep, asleep, of each roving wraith
Which sought a home in thee
And sigh a little, for the wasted faith
Which were born of you and me.
And smile beneath the mourning ground
As the world clasps morning’s glory,
For the moon still dotes the earth around
And the sun gilds another story.
And then, in a squall of rain and rue
Lament life’s sole severance;
For god and men, we wept them true,
Slighting our Reverence.
The Fall of EpithilinonI
Let no man speak of wars whence
No answer graced our call,
Let man remember gods thence
Gods, watchful of our fall;
Speak in silenced sighs, men,
Dead men hither sleep,
No flag here flails, amen, amen!
Who can ever beweep
Our brethren in the deep.
Frightened colours breached the sky,
The church bells played a dirge;
The bustling hills and vales so nigh
In crimson rage did merge,
Archers with crescents held high
Keen arrows fell like sin,
The portcullis in sorrow, shy
Interred our fathers in
The last grave of our kin.
Wailed the night in thunder blare;
The mangonels did come,
Lonely trumpets singed the air
When Earth ravished our home;
The eastern tower, wasting wear
For a trebuchet did bow,
Fallen stone and ballista bare
Broke its stony vow,
As the beadle mopped his brow.
Mildly armoured, men at arms
Stormed the brazen fray,
Howled the castle’s cold alarms:
Ladder men up the brae!
Blazed in ire the fields and farms:
The winter’s yield was spent;
A Slice of EntropyLife is not form or symmetry or a stack of hours
on a dustless shelf
falling, hovering, floating, flailing
feeling comfortably numb
in a lover’s grasp
is the autumn of an ancient anarchy
knowing all these affections are temporary
and as they cease, so shall I
from a star to a star
streaks the dye of the unending night
shedding colour on what is alive
basking in the ambivalence of creation
wondering what is the great purpose
of existence, survival, procreation;
Why must life go on?
life goes on
fantasy, excess, poverty
of objective, of reason
naught lasts a season,
gravity is the do all end all
in the cosmos, time rules god.
Wishes and wills, thoughts, sentiments, impulses,
cannot slow that unforgiving arm,
or plug that black hole of impendence,
victory and defeat
will meet at square 1;
the cheers and the jeers will die away
in the violence of that
Life – 0. Death – 0.
Vita incerta, mors certissima.
My Knight in Formal ArmourNobody loves Monday, but she was not Nobody. Monday mornings meant a host of official emails, a swarm of new themes to gossip about and a cup of tea that couldn’t quite wake her from the torpor instilled by the weekend’s laxness. Her boss would come up to her desk and take a progress report of her current projects and by the end of the day she would have to type it out send over once again. She would often order takeaway to brighten the fated day but it did little to change things when you have to be professional while eating your fricassee or your fries. A potpourri of “social synergy” events often took place on Mondays, but to know that that was another excuse to boost employee efficiency conveyed a heart of emptiness.
She worked on seventh grade textbooks, filtering through its content with the keen eye one develops as an editor and looked forward to that first cup of tea that would give her a few minutes to stare at the day’s excited sensex. The cup of
Why I Always take a JacketWhen I was younger my mom always said to me:
"Take a jacket when you leave the house.
You never know when it's going to be cold."
I listened to her request and took a jacket
Because I wanted to be warm at nighttime.
When a few years passed I realized something;
Sometimes a couple would walk past me
But it was obvious that one person wore a jacket
That belonged to the other person.
I thought it was weird but shrugged it off moments later.
During my adolescent years I got a little jealous.
I found out that giving a person a jacket meant something.
It meant that you cared for said person
And you wanted them to be warm.
This got me wondering: Did other people care for me?
Questions like that made me evaluate myself.
My mom bought me the jackets I wear so that I stay warm,
So that meant she loves me.
After calming myself with this fact,
I snuggle into my own jacket and carry on with my life.
It's cold. Shivers run through me repeatedly.
I forgot my jacket.
Everyone else is laughing and havi
I hear it all
What you screech
Every line repeats
Until I fall in my defeat
Can I ever stop
The barrage of words
That crumples me down
Onto the floor?
What gives you the right
To drag my face through dirt?
Why, oh why do I listen to you,
Who brings so much hurt?
Your words bring tears,
Heat rising to my face.
I run out in humiliation,
Sobs coming as I race.
My heart is bleeding
My ears are ringing
My chest is pounding
My sorrow astounding
I can't take it
Enough is enough
The smile is cracked
The mask now gone
I'm finally beaten
Is that what you want?
I'm just a human
I'll never live up
Never reach what yo
Are running out
Like the future
That my heart
My black eyes
Her gorgeous march.
Breaking my hopes
Was our last
She ran away
My life turned grey
Living a plastic life
It’s easy to watch
An entire society
Like bricks in a wall.
Let me stay
Here with you.
I don’t belong
There to them
It was a mistake
Believe that I
My tears spillMy missing you,
my wanting you,
my needing you still,
my tears spill.
it´s all been said before,
you´d just walk in the door.
My love for you,
my dreams of you
oh if it could only be,
then I´d turn back the hands of time
and you´d still be here with me.
By Suzanne Karbach 19th July 2014
Wedding VowToday, my love, I lay my hand in thine
And vow to spend forever at thy side
The path that lies ahead of thee now mine
My strength to bear thy cares and match thy stride
Today, my love, I wear thy wedding ring
I pledge devotion, heart and soul, to thee
I share what joys and sorrows time will bring
And cherish thee for all eternity
Today, my love, I pledge myself thy wife
And take thee as the husband of my heart
I gift thee all the moments of my life
That nothing in this world tear us apart
Secrets and PromisesI am here because of the past,
Because of a promise that is endeavored to be kept.
I can only hope that this dread won't last.
Since the past is also what's killing me the most.
But no one knows,
What goes on in my head.
The painful woes,
That have not yet gone away.
Secrets that can not be shared,
Buried deep, and very far.
Only if anyone cared,
But God knows no one ever will.
Hiding the truth may never feel right,
But I am only doing it for the best.
I am not going to win this fight,
For what is left of me, I'm broken.
Widows FearsIn a graveyard a widow stands
Remembering her lover who lays below
Under the stars
Weeping like a willow
The sky starts crying
In sync with her tears
This is why she had quit trying
Why she’d fallen into her fears
Keep your head up.The weight of the world is sitting on your shoulders,
crushing you down,
and making you smaller.
The more you struggle,
the heavier it gets.
My advice is:
Keep your head up.
When it pushes,
And when the world gets the message,
you will fly.
And when you fly,
you will finally understand what it means to be alive.
And that is,
to keep your head up,
and look at the challenge without flinching,
and once you rein dominance,
you hand it over to another that is giving up.
No one deserves what you previously felt.
A Song for the StarsUnder the night sky, here I stand
To seek for beauty, peace and love
I once have known in human's land
But I now see in stars above.
Beneath the heavens, I look up
To see the wonder of the stars,
Wishing the night would never stop,
That I could always gaze at Mars.
After midnight, I'm still awake,
Thinking of stars and something else -
You whom I love, for goodness' sake,
And my love - none but stars can tell.
The constellations - they remind
Me of your eyes that I hold dear
In my memories, in my mind
(All while I look at stars so clear).
In the midst of dawn, I still stand
To feel your presence once again,
Like when you roamed the human's land
When life was great and free of pain.
Early morning, I now look down
To think of you and other stars;
Although I may not see them now,
They're still there, like you always are.
This DiwaliIt'll be rather quiet this Diwali,
A dark festival of lights,
And in that darkness I'll reminice
At least light a diya they said,
For this year's Diwali,
But fire alarms hate festivities
And would not let them be.
There will be no family this year
Just pixels on a screen,
And no sweets will sweeten this Diwali,
And no Sherwanis to dry clean.
The clouds will keep their peace tonight,
The skies immune to plea,
Just a lightning bolt? A clap of thunder?
None for my De-wali.
Dear fairy light friend I must admit
I have no diyas for thee,
All I have are stars 'neath the alien sky:
Diyas for you and me.
A Bloody, Stupid Miracle The day we’d cured the human condition was the day I put a bullet through my head and didn’t die. It was also the day I realized how scared I actually was of death, and after hours of muscle ache from holding that gauze against my open skull, after the wound closed and everything went back to normal, I had myself a good old-fashioned brainstorm. How ironic.
But when summer came, everything had fallen to shit. The air scorched my skin and parched my tongue every time I took a breath. The sun glared down on a rapidly-collapsing world, full of the undying bastard children of cruelty and misfortune. What was one to do when their cells regenerated faster than they decomposed?
My feet hit the pavement, now littered with jagged bits of glass to snap at my toes, thoroughly baked by the blazing ball of bitter disdain high overhead. Today was worse than yesterday. Though I’d often wondered the purpose of it anymore, I
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