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  • NOBLE POETRY  

  • Poetry

    Concerns


     
    It would have been nice to travel far on the ship that conquered the Universe.
    To feel and know earth-shattering,
    With soul-changing music May my beloved be with me, to make me rejoice
    And share my sorrow,
    And feel how my sorrowing heart should ring for her.

    The silent change of seasons warns me, and is ever on the watch:
    I must prepare for the real. On the gloomy veil of restless nights the pendulum,
    I am often awakened to the death-clacking minutes.
    As one whose grave and now unpardonable transgression,
    of coward and man in all ages stuck.

    The world must be long accustomed to the petty,
    and it may seem that something will never change:
    The man that would be friends or acquainted is beaten to a pulp.
    His soul, eager to be mischievous
    Is always feeling its loss, and bears with its passing.

    The initiative of the avant-garde, the artists of the form, ...

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    Trend-walking

     

    Already melting like wax, the party queens of V.I.P.-scented luxury lives with their brain-botoxed, glued-together faces are melting apart. Here and there, no honest-to-goodness gaze can miss the exaggerated ass-grease-restored twilight, the lip-smacking fish-lips of their pleas, occasionally, if their attention is drawn, to save animals or humanity without ever knowing what they are talking about.

    They gorge on indigestible sushi and Caesar salad by the sackful, because their bicep-bulging personal trainers in their telesmith diets have conveniently convinced them that it is preferable to flash the garlic popsie than the tank-cuff. In a sea of hair and skin, they will conquer any individually planned party where sex and sexual instinct rule instead of reason.

    They curtsy in coercive situations, reduced to each other's palace-maids, hoping only that in return for their free services in kind, a kindly Someone will not be in debt and will take ...

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    CUT UMBILICAL CORD


     

    I sought my refuge so convulsively. I was tired of the leak that left me alone and tormented me. Like a volcano in my glowing no-man's-land, judgement and words boiled. I am still alive, though my days are gradually ruined and damaged by fear of the future and monotony. Like the colour-blind man, who seldom sees a woman's sweet lips, or a wavy rainbow of variegated colours, must balance my will on needle-ropes, and in my buried heart I would rather ask memories and thoughts to give way to the deeper context of manhood!

    V.I.P.- falls, Don Perinon, a gang of scheming colonel-readers, deceived, flash their fangs, envy and malice at once, if it takes to turn five minutes of visibility into a national fame, to cover almost all the earthly, ischamous Styx with its hordes.

    It is often better to cling to no tears than to no endless chains of broken promises. My slipping shadow may stay but by my side, As my only faithful betrayer, Who onl...

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    Constraints


     
    It's no longer the arrival that worries me, but the homesickness of getting on the road. The certainty of a good decision, hidden away for years, that starting something was still easier and more comfortable than leaving my things aside. Even so, there was no lack of complaints in the stumbles and failures of stumbles: they will get back on their feet and be solved again.

    The need for completeness will hardly be truncated any longer, at most it will be a little more nuanced and complex. - Many times I would have preferred to cry: enough! - Let all those who still have a human spark left in them and have not given their heads to evil doings apologise! What was the use, then, of bribed hypocrisy, of spiked criticism of public humiliations? Instead of the soaring flights of private mirth, all would have been well in the consolation of all!

    The arrowing, wounded pain of common injuries can never be forgotten once too often. A rare parade of ...

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    Swan cry


     
    The insatiable wound of the stupefying nights is leaking fast from many places as the cawing song of crows begins to rhythm; the season of rages and compromises has come, when it was better to become a pimp and a pimp's pimp, and if necessary to complain: to a friend, a relative or a good friend. The scapegoat-witness stubbornly lurked in their shameful shame: everyone with a reputation is both a traitor and a traitor.

    Although the insurmountable shame can encircle everyone, it has never been or will never be a cancer. It is not that the great heaviness is not relieved, for reason has long since been removed from it. The corrupt-seeing has often stumbled into the unworldly whys of what has happened. Even so, our sins are lost in order. The elongated volume between two hearts is still free to bleed, for it cannot be bound by an oath of fidelity.

    Prostitution-happiness, or cowardly drink-avoidance, is the long-ago cross of many. Unquenchab...

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    My Fear

    There are days when I tried hard,

    the thoughts of failing left my soul jarred,

    sometimes I had a good day, at times my struggles were left marred.

     

    Hidden in my struggles is despair,

    yet my mind still strive to always prepare,

    because one wrong step might lead me to err.

     

    Those who can help, needs help,

    those who should give a leaning shoulder, needs a shoulder to cry on,

    those who should serve as a guardian, needs to be guided.

     

    Verily, I'm a man on my own accord,

    and failure is one my heart abhorred,

    the fright is my strength, so my passion for success soared.

    ...

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    Dear Corona

     

    Dear deadly Corona,
    Save my Fiona,
    Let her name be freed from the coroner.

    Our dreams are young,
    Our ages are young,
    Don't let us die young.

    You are a pandemic,
    With rage of pandemonium,
    Don't treat us as a pandemain.

    Wash your hand we say,
    Keep the virus at bay,
    Should I let the water running?, Nay.

    Believe in the guidelines,
    Lines by Lines,
    And you shall have no timeline.

    Oh Dear Creator,
    Protect us from this corona detonator,
    As our names are protected from the Coroner's disseminator.

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    Extinct instinct paradigms


     
    Why does the first romantic night spent together have to be rough and hungover? Why is it that the hey-hawking of the tax organs involved in love-making is so saliva-producing that it's downright disgusting?! In orgies of pent-up urges, why did the ecstasy of the Universe feel unbearable? Can we survive ourselves in two bodies united in a fused unity? Do we not change, like butterflies in a cocoon of silk, so that the only sign of all fulfilled joy may be Executioner-Death?!

    Two androgynous souls lay in solemn exaltation side by side, And imagined this the order of the Worlds, which was ordained from all eternity. We may often be known to grope in the nest of our sure present as if we were in a crater-deep mine for precious stones. The gentler contours of our femininity tend to be forgotten from time to time, so that our vestigial animal instincts, swept under the carpet, can come to the fore.

    The star-storm of the Cosmos outside clears ...

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    TURKEY LEGS MOVE BY ANTHONY CHARLES BLAKE

    Run Turkey Run

    Don’t even go on a prowl

    Turkey knife

    No cut

    No Cook

    No seasoning

    This Turkey is running for its very life

    I am not stopping to see the Macy’s Thanksgiving Parade

    This is living that needs to be made

    No stuffing

    No eating from this turkey, and if you are disappointed, tough

    Enough is Enough

    If meat is what you want, try duck

    I will not be plucked

    You are out of luck

    I am running as far as I can go

    When I become breathless, I will move slow

    For now, I am on deadline time and all systems go

    Eventually, my turkey legs will thump me for a ride by way of hitchhike

    Being a Turkey, I am expected to be polite

    I am in a plight

    Turkey run on never to be done

    I want to live among

    I am running anywhere from any oven

    I will never be ...

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    STARLIGHT WISHES BY ANTHONY CHARLES BLAKE

    Several stars in the night

    They were shining bright

    A child made a wish

    He waved to them a kiss

    Held several dreams

    Embarking like moving streams

    The child wished for a Toy Robot of his own

    Too a parent might find that a bit blown

    But that is what the child’s dream being shown

    There were many other wishes

    Yet too many to mention here

    The child even prayed to the stars in making his wish happen

    The Toy Robot was always his number one goal

    The child asked his parents for the Toy Robot, but his parent felt it was too expensive
    Be careful what you wish for as you might just get it

    There was a knock at the door

    The parents said “We are not expecting any company”

    When the male child opened the door, it was a toy robot at the front door in a box

    It was definitely a surprise, and the parents had no ...

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