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mt Oct 2013
Deadbeat
Smelly feet
Walking across its own callouses
Creator of worlds
Perfect inscriber of nameless wonders beyond mere
Conception and discrimination
That permeates the minds of men
Misguided across the arc of ages
Leading only to cycles of
Hollow pain repeating itself
Lacking substance but appearing
Like unmovable boulders perched
Atop greener mountains
That whisper using their voice,
The wind
Carrying its message in its form
Disappearing but never gone
The homeless,
Not content to trap two sided
Ideas of being in overflowing
Homes filled with the true
Forms of out sourcing
The spirit, torn for
Perfect packages to be sent
To faceless names to further
The collection of vessels
Unused.
The wanderer,
Unhappy with goals
Moving towards the never ending
Journey of perfection
That ends nowhere but travels
Everywhere leaving no quarter
Uninvaded and sadly ringing
In transcendental ears
The lonely,
Unwilling to spread their
Personal pain
From personal failures
To any one but themselves
Using the compressed aggregate
Sickness in scientific lobes, only
Representations, to create faucets through which representations
Of the unrepresentative
Eek out an existence
Among glaring, modern edgy
Movements in endless circles
That sear images into retinas
Working their way to ******
Thoughts, deflowering the only
Worthwhile virginity in the sad reflections of experience
Called man.
The ******,
Never fulfilled from false conceptions
Or the self materializing aspect as
The passage of time
Looking to capture the eternal moment and ****** of the Now
Lasting forever but done long
Ago
Chasing the end of self
And forgetting the body for
Higher realms untouched by lazy
Thoughts and repetitive notions
Creating the mundane
The un-mundane is furthur up than most of us can see
Even if touching it is
The experience
Not different from the life you will
Live for a million regressions
The contemporaries
Never travel the
Path of the Mountain
First camels, then lions
Finally to turn into godly offspring of
Flowering being at the peak
Standing above ubiquitous faces
But contact on level planes
The mountain of self
To create a new identity divorced from the diseased blockage
Flowing through humanity's veins
Only to tumble down
Into the pulsating
Heart filling, disintegrating
All in one undiscriminating
Destruction unborn from the
Young universe only
To lose the conception
And absorb the absorber
Forgetting that once,
A young man carried all the
Pain he had handed to himself
In shiny packages
Pretending that the others
Ever even existed.
This is a war
Of crowds drunk
With their fists pounding in the air
One ominous heartbeat
As they turn their ears away
From deafening music
Of undiscriminating souls
They turn it to the real music
And turn it to rock and roll
July 15, 2013
1:45 a.m.
Vda Jun 2020
"Just the other day"

What was the rubbing of elbows?
After all we had no say in the matter just a week ago.
On the bus, on the train, even when we didn't know
We knocked elbows with strangers as we went with the flow.

A kiss among friends, a handshake at peace time
A greeting of love not just some customary sign
Soon it will all be a memory of a more liberating time
When it was ok to dance in the streets and with friends you could dine.

Some kissed their dogs while touching the roses
And figured hands were clean even after some unwittingly picked their noses.
But now the voices of not just the teachers echo
To remind us to wash those hands from palms to elbows.

Antibacterial soap and water, rubbing alcohol and the endangered sanitizer,
The weapons against this undiscriminating virus called Corona.
One day, we will look back on those things we took for granted
Like touching our faces and that of those we wanted.

We will treasure the memories of those sleepovers and Sunday raves
When the confinement of our homes threaten to breed a new brand of craze.
The services we found every excuse not to attend
Will be part of the list of "when again, oh when?"

So we live in a world where technology now rules
With virtual hugs, dinners and online schools.
Keep the windows open and the back gates locked
Cancel all socials and keep the soap dishes well stocked
As we each guard our doors in the hope that one day Corona won't knock.

By Vda
Namu Park Feb 2020
Streams flow,
Mountains stand,
Fields obedient to the Sun
Wish to remain unturned.
But winds blow from every corner,
Kings trample through
On their iron hoofed horses,
Merchants of War chant
Jingling their gold.
Flowers swaying in the air,
Humble roots desperately gripping down,
Wondering why so hard
To just be.
Hearts may deceive
Storms are raging yonder and beyond
Until the undiscriminating wind
Comes home.

— The End —