The Ishavar

The Ishvar
~~~~~~~~

They feel him ~ in whispered black deeps
some form
wrought of fair taled fancies
and thieves of sleep.
Stripped of fear, thus honor, thus name
an extinct
their minds seek not its image
nor memories retain.

This species once so proud with gifting
centuries full
with vigored life in prowl
of earthly shiftings.
When mortals more something to be sought
and then
more to muse and think much less
to give a thought.

But Oh' how death and deadly was their kind
and Ishvar fell
Percieving not their numbers nor evils hold
on mortal minds.
Once, long before time was time- and law
He called
and the elements themselves gathered
in Ishvars awe.
no more.....no more.

Yet,_ awhile...
when bloodied moon and corpse filled tides

will come
And the Ishavar free of mortal seed will quit
this hide.

*Thus' hidden in foliage of long anticipates
bides time
for their clawed prints to once again
dot the landscape.

For now........he waits

   (©. 2009 Mea.)

Ritishmpire

 

In days of leisure long now past

twas once a nightly gather.

Of vagabonds with minstrel gifts

for dance and ale and laughter.

All but a few, this nightly crew

 frolicked from dusk till dawn.

Twas on such night two souls first met

Sir Bitter and Lady Forlorn.

 

One brief glance can change a course

One look can calm a storm.

As their eyes touched a fate was sealed

and Ritishmpire was born. 

 

Sir Bitter, quite the jester who

was renowned for performance and wit.

Laid guitar to rest, to ponder some riff

to bestow on the Lady Forlorn.

His pockets bare, just matchsticks there

perplexed with naught a gift.

  on striking sticks- a thought was lit

and Ritishmpire was born. 

 

***  A matchbook cover_ a cardboard cover

with the words.. "The British Empire".

He measured and bended and folded it over

in twices and threesomes and fours. 

Then he tucked in the seems

creating a ring

and grinning with satire fed.

Pleased with his jest, he looked at the crest

" Ritishmpire " it said.  ***

 

She turned to him, his heart went still

and born within his breast,

Some awe bit upon and he vowed her then on

the one he would love till death.

With eyes pooling his in liquid sleep

down on one knee he bent.

With kiss to her hand in earnest deep

" Ritishmpire " he said.

 

With laugh suppressed she asked his quest

and twas then she saw his means.

A rounded thing, to look a ring

no jewel would ever best.

"I have but lowly gift for you,

but with it- intent to wed."

Upon her finger it came to rest 

" Ritishmpire " it said.

 

She realized intentions can die

with time if nothing else.

She fought to ignore, she'd heard before

this childlike sentiment.

But willy all reasons she chose to accept

this emblem- though rudiment.

So off with their visions of fancies ahead~

" Ritishmpire " they said.

 

So soon these two became entwined

soon after bore a Son.

And in this mix you'd hope for bliss

but fate would have it none.

The paths they chose were in oppose

in all that they endeavored.

The dreams they sought were never more

then fleeting hopes of pleasure.

*And Ritishmpire was bled* 

So days were spent in slow descent
the more that time went on,
Miss Forlorn grew more bitter

Sir Bitter . . more forlorn.

No fault lay with the child sweet

they loved him fierce and stead.

I merely imply their love had died.

" Ritishmpire " it said.

 

One day she removed the tattered ring

and placed it safe to keep.

Within her jeweled box of things 

for sentimental peeks.

Unaware that fateful moment-

ah' that chosen deed.

Entombed what love along with it

in dark with it

alone with it.

Whispers weeping ~ reaching ~ leaping!

" Ritishmpire" it pled. 

 

Thus in darkness there it rests

together side by side.

The ring of jest and doom of quest

both locked in knotty pine.

This box beneath the earth now keeps 

till dust shall meet the sky.

 All the while neath the quagmire 

whispers.... Ritishmpire.
*
* 
 A matchbook cover_ a cardboard cover 
with the words..."The British Empire". 
He measured and bended and folded it over
in twices and threesomes and fours.
Then he tucked in the seems 
creating a ring
and grinning with satire fed.
Pleased with his jest, he looked at the crest
  " Ritishmpire " it said..    ***
   

  

 
{© #169 Mea.}
Dedicated to my son Justin

 

 



WHEN WILL WE TEACH OUR YOUNG ?

When are we going to teach our young
their purpose in life isn't found in one.
That the road to happiness doesn't start
finding Man or Woman to fill your heart.

When are we going to teach our young
a peacefull life can't be bought or won
That they wont find joy in a cash flow game,
chasing power or craving an empty fame.

When are we going to teach our young
That the world doesn't revolve around
their personnel wants,their hopes or dreams.
Compassion is worth more- than all of these.

And the Earth in all its glory
Has a sad historic story
If we learn from mistakes in our past
Why do we keep replaying the worst for last.
And the World is in a furry
In its mad euphoric hurry
We've shredded our morals, they're all but gone
leaving all our souls bare to every wrong
When Will We Teach our Young ?

 When are we going to teach our young
Darwins theory of mans evolution is wrong
That we're more than Intelligent design
We were all created by One GOD Devine.

When are we going to teach our young
Survival of the fittest is no G-Net code
But a name we use as an excuse for..
blameing need for lust in our human flaw.

When are we going to teach our young
The only true source of love is found
In the God they learn to deny or fear
And His Son in whom every life He bares.

And the Earth in all its glory
Has a sad pathetic story
If we've learned from mistakes in our past
Why are we reliving all the worst for last.
And the World is in a furry
in a mad nuclear hurry
Lies have tainted the truth so long..
Our souls are rippened for evils Throne
WHEN WILL WE TEACH OUR YOUNG ? 
 © 144# Mea. 

Regret

 



                                                         I, I, I, Come to this wake
                                                         murmurs and mumblings
                                                            sloshings to and fro
                                                           faint twines to moans
                                                            rising up from below
                                                            a muffled violin intro
.
                                                         I, I, I, Feel this mistake
                                                        thrashing and rumblings
                                                           thoughts half unfold
                                                        weightless buoyant arms
                                                          floating sponged foam
                                                          a sighing heavy drone
 .
                                                         I, I, I, Sense this quake
                                                         turmoils and bubblings
                                                         hot veins meeting cold
                                                          surging to the surface
                                                           heaving tides in roll~
                                                         leave stranded the soul. 



                                                               © 2011- Mea.



Leisure

Birds have no more

leisure time then I.

Bustling, hustling

freeways in the sky.

Before dawn awakens

hear their shrill.  

Hearts still beating 

rappid when their still. 

No rest for the weary 

winged to heed. 

 They carry on-

another nest to weave.

Peeping, weeping 

hungry mouths to feed. 

Frantic- hunting bugs 

and worms or seed. 

Flitter flutter  

all day long, 

still take time to 

sing a song. 

Birds have no more 

leisure time then I. 

# 106. Mea.





Brother foot steps



From the Ocean to the woodlands

how I ever hear your call

Those whispering soft murmurs

all the winter thru the fall.

Your sighs like shifting voices

they sway me to and fro 

Hands like feathered shadows 

they guide me where to go.

The Earth, her breath within me

Her winds my sail and song

Algonquin spirits keeping me

where I ( feel ) I belong.

It's here this soil you once stood

ancient days ago

It's here this ground I stand now

remembering all I've known. 

Of love and life you praised it all

this earth we pray and bleed on.

It's here that you once lived and died 

betrayed for our own freedom.

Mighty warriors of my past

who's truth became a fiction

The blood once shed upon this land

remains your benediction.

Oh' rocky land _Oh' Northern shores

nourish me my mother.

My heart, my soul,  New England is

I love her like no other!

 ©. #168 Mea.

At What Cost?

AT WHAT COST

"Freedom, why the forlorn look?"

asked Liberty perched on her hook.

"I sense your glumness in the air
A rather heavy thick despair".

"That's true, it feels a sort of heat"
Speaks Independence, from his seat.
"But conquer we will - this battle forth."
"Aye_ says Freedom, At what cost?"
 
"Whatever do you mean-what cost?"
Tolls Liberty, all in a froth.
"Proud and sure we keep this fight
pursuing what we feel our right."

"We must rule - or then be ruled!"
Independence ridicules.
"In control - we'll not be bossed."
Aye,_ says Freedom, At what cost?"
 
"So tell.....what would 'you' have us do?"
 asked both of them to Freedom, who
sighs deeply with his thoughts pellmell
"I have - says he, just this to tell"....

"They scream for INDEPENDENCE who
is bound himself  to me and you.
To LIBERTY, they raise the flame
then burn what little hope remains
and  I
yes, I - 'let FREEDOM ring!
some shout eternal on the wing.
Convinced that I alone -some lord
the epitome all life is stored."
(sigh)
"Truth is.........
Forsaking God and Holy law
Our first intent _will be our fall.
We three such hypocratic  force,
what if triumphant....At what cost?"

"He's lost his gut.....or lost his mind"
jibes Liberty "Where is your spine?'
Our cause is noble as my bell"
("Your Pride, says Freedom- starts to swell.")

Cries Liberty "your fear is loud
and smells of a decaying shroud.
Support is ours, there's little lost."
(Nay, says Freedom - great the Cost!")

"Enough your doom.... you make me laugh" 
smirks Independence, at half mast.
"We've all the world now at a glance."
("Take care, says Freedom - Arrogance.")

BOOMS Independence..."Don't you dare!
We three are One, this cause you share.
You too bear weight upon this cross."
 Aye, says Freedom - At What Cost ?"

#136 Mea.
© #136 Mea. 

Above Arms Reach

Above Arms Reach

I have gone
is there yearning . . grief

I have gone

Is that a sigh . . relief ?

In life I cared little

for much I had wronged

I wish I could tell thee

But now I have gone.

Mourn for me not, nor fret for my being

Where I've gone

tis no injustice, sickness, nay

mental anguish all be damned.

Where I've gone

pain has no teeth, nor

vile thirst for living death.

Where I've gone

memories- be they good or bad

now-my history books to search.. learn.

Where I've gone

more loving teachers ever exist

Angels you call them.. nay

they are saints of our soul.

Where I've gone

unworthy as I be
yet - I watch

each thump of your heart . . each beat

Where I've gone 

there _ to the right of your eyes

and just above arms reach_ 

Listen... listen... hear the voices...rejoices

feel the wind reborn ...my breath amid their song 

For I'll know how to love thee 

when you reach where I've gone.  

 © #117 Mea. 

**REMINISCENCE**

Guarded gates on wings of angels
Cherubum attend your calls
mirriads of spirits gather
begging entrance to your halls
  will they be denied......

Devine intervention whispers
I've never felt this earth my home
then once again reflections crystalize
turn everything I've always known..
to mythical lies......

I long for that distant yet familiar shore
As I dangle and stretch on that silver cord.
I know I could go the distance
If I severed all reminiscence..
But something holds me back ~
limitations on my shoulder tap
once again they remind me
I'm not free...not yet free.

In your mighty castle deep
High in clouds beyond our door
The wind sings her secret song
one we've heard and known before
But do not recognize...

Dormant arms reach out for you
Don't you see them anymore?
Have they become common sight
like scattered shells upon a shore
victims of the tides...

We long for that distant yet familiar shore
As we dangle and stretch on our silver cords.
We know we could go the distance
if we severed all reminiscence..
But something holds us back ~
limitations on our shoulders tap
Once again they remind us
we are not free...not yet free.

 © #168 Mea.

I think I shall sit this one out.
**************************

I think I shall sit this one out
too much ego infestings lurking about
prey on the discord, play up the doubts
I think I shall sit this one out.

Hidden well- behind screens virtuality
transformed braver than actuality
spewing shards of toxic mentalia
counting kudos, invested inferior

intrusion delusions are causing a Bout
I think I shall sit this one out.

Self-incriminating intellectuals.
un-intelligible all their nonsensicals
a melee and rape of vocabular
alphabetized verbal dislexia
dismembered distempers foam at the mouth
I think I shall sit this one out.

Uninspired, illinformed visceral things
regurgitate yesterdays stalkings
a pungent cruel brew of dysfunctions
feeding frenzy of empty assumptions.
dishonest distortions strengthen the shout
I think I shall sit this one out.
Too much ego infestings lurking about
prey on the discord, play up the doubts
I think I shall sit this one out.

 ©2008(Mea.)