My daughter plays on the floor
with plastic letters,
red, blue & hard yellow,
learning how to spell,
how to make spells.
I wonder how many women
denied themselves daughters,
closed themselves in rooms,
Cruising these residential Sunday
streets in dry August sunlight:
what offends us is
the houses in pedantic rows, the planted
sanitary trees, assert
levelness of surface like a rebuke
to the dent in our car door.
No shouting here, or
shatter of glass; nothing more abrupt
THE SEA! the sea! the open sea!
The blue, the fresh, the ever free!
Without a mark, without a bound,
It runneth the earth’s wide regions round;
It plays with the clouds; it mocks the skies;
Or like a cradled creature lies.
I ’m on the sea! I ’m on the sea!
I am where I would ever be;
With the blue above, and the blue below,
It is the first mild day of March:
Each minute sweeter than before
The redbreast sings from the tall larch
That stands beside our door.
There is a blessing in the air,
Which seems a sense of joy to yield
To the bare trees, and mountains bare,
And grass in the green field.
Let America be America again.
Let it be the dream it used to be.
Let it be the pioneer on the plain
Seeking a home where he himself is free.
(America never was America to me.)
Let America be the dream the dreamers dreamed--
Let it be that great strong land of love
Where never kings connive nor tyrants scheme
The stars in the night I peer
And I wonder
What sits beyond it
Is it Kahn
Perhaps its god
Perchance a fool’s paradise
It pains me to know
The self-deception we know all too well
A fermi paradox
We were born into this---
toils of tangled gods’ maws
gnawing us raw
as we wiggle and crawl
on top of each other
like fish out of water.
Nothing sprouts from our barren faces
no eyes to cry, no mouth to shout
and wail as the gods’ acid spit flays us alive,
After all the arrows and spears that has been pointed
We have been immortal, we have been invincible...
We have been undisputed, thus,
Together we proved to be– inevitable.
With the help of the great sire
We have crossed each and every fire.
Enduring with our father 's name,
We have not been singed by any flame...
We, Gods, observe conceived
From height of self-conceit
And we collapse on it,
If "want" and "Is" don't meet.
Behold! Under my feet
Man's waste of time's too loud.
Through screams I'll muffle sound.
Tranquility is motion,
Through the glass of Iron Towers
Might my voice be hardly heard.
Though emergence of my powers
Rises up from underworld.
Slums, where we were all created,
Fight their way to core through lies.
Broken stray dogs posing danger
Shouldn't take you by surprise.
Lost have nothing else for losing: