Everyday Person (9/9/25, 8:21 PM)

If I free myself today, how will you?

Hearing and seeing from close and far,

We remember, forget, and remember more,

But I wouldn’t dare assume, 

I’ve been in your shoes

News reaches my ears and eyes,

A child’s crying,

A Mother’s wailing,

A Father’s derailing,

An elder statesman’s heart failing,

News reaches my body and mind

A billion men torn up inside today,

A billion women even more, and others too,

We can deduce by hearing and looking up what’s new-

Straight-faced and strait-jacketed,

Holding back tears to be worthy of one’s “work”,

We forge a copy of our authentic self,

 “Professionalism”- it’s called, well…

(We all know what that means)!

Wisdom may be passed from generation to generation,

Shared and handed off, warm, into soft hands-

Father to son, mother to daughter,

Friend to friend…

My neighbour and I are Thirty years apart,

And I see his wisdom and humility,

Maybe forged out of necessity,

In our local Southern-American scenery,

I mumble on and on, about what I can only perceive,

Combined with the facts that’ve reached me of our local history,

The spices sprinkled in the eyes of our County-

Brushed aside and marketed by the State Uni,

As Damn Good Dawg win parade confetti,

We speak peace and what could be-

I’d rather all my oldschool classmates graduated,

And got their tuition free,

Rather than trying to play the lottery.

While for others without this privilege of leisurely observation,

I see you out there in the economic wilderness-

Some doing good works,

Others more malicious deeds,

Conforming to orders from above-

Who’s commandments did you follow today?

And who’s commandments did that person follow?

When will you and I be free, to be?
To pick between our own free will decision tree?

I hear about “you” from a news article,

Predefined in neat categories with messy ramifications-

“Black, White, Latino, Indian, Chinese, African, Australian, Indigenous, Multiracial, American, Gazan, Congolese, Korean, Sudanese…”

Numbered for accountability-

This many dead, this many buried, this many cremated-

And these capsized at sea…

Calamities avoidable once and for all,

When we’ll work to preview what we see!

Let’s shift our focus?

How many lives saved today by unspoken means?

How many lives we’ll extend by a Malaria Vaccine?

How many couples married today?

And how many lucky marriage escapees?

How many children born,

How many brought home, happy and healthy?

How many with grandchildren, remarried?

How many political prisoners let free?

How many warheads spared, 

on our so-called enemies?

(Why the beefed-up arms? 

Why the patriotic insecurity?)

I think we need to have a little faith-

How many trade deals, 

bringing opportunity to the lowest rungs?

How many exceptional farm yields,

fertilised by simple cow dung?

How many farmers’ children-

enjoying a childhood their parents never got?

How many farmers literate with smart phones, 

taking breaks to share online their thoughts?

How many peacekeepers anticipating

The moves of power-brokers?

And giving a tip here, and tip there, gently guiding the canoe,

How many dreamers praising midnight, 

and how many gentle jokers,

Turning Green to Blue…?

Say bon voyage! 

Espionage be gone!

Trust in fellow Earthlings, 

the Unity of The Song!

Make America Better Than It’s Ever Been! I can say out loud, Easy- because I’m classified American,

And together with all of ya’ll, (Who aren’t demons!)

We can live more easily, effectively,

Trying to pick the right things to do-

Shall we come together now with peace,

Across national borders?

I say- Do Your Thing, Do the Right Thing, 

Even if it’s against (Whose?) Orders.

I’ve spoken a few words here, now take your turn,

We have long lives to live and many ideas to learn.

Waiting, leaning-in, 

I’ll be listening to your version

Of what it means for you to be you, 

As I dream of being an Everyday person…

Friday 5 September 10:56 PM - 11:59 PM (Midnight’s grandparents)

 Friday 5 September 10:56 PM - 11:59 PM (Midnight’s grandparents)

How can we on Earth bring ourselves closer together, or at whatever distance is most necessary to maintain an established harmony of our own, individual freedom, in a way in which we all personally find the happiness we may so easily reset and rest in? To begin each day, whether sunny or cloudy in nature, whether raining, thundering, or lacking in humidity; so that we go from what we are born to achieve as a species, a life of love, spread liberally around the globe without shame, from conversation to conversation; not seeking to convert others to our thinking, but rather seeking to understand and join with everyone in a way that will keep us bonded for eternity. I do the following:

Thinking of what situation others are in, listening to the stories travelling from the other side of the planet, protecting my innocence by judicious forethought and ultimate presence with each keystroke, footstep, thought, momentary forgetfulness. Reminded again, back on track, making no reference to anyone outside of my own self-knowing, knowing myself to the maximum limit of 24 hours, 7 days a week, and 365 days a year on my calendar.

Forgiveness is to halt and recover the perpetrators of intentionally malicious actors, to mould such bad actors in a way that allows them to understand the damage anyone fitting this description has done to our harmoniously envisioned ideal planet, and go on to participate in healing of immorality as sickness, and produce purification of heart, soul, mind, challenging of intellect, and enjoyment of the delight of living and knowing that we share our small blue and green and red and yellow and white Earth with billions of ones just like us in these universal desires:

To love and be loved, to build and maintain goodwill, to create and enjoy in fellowship, to choose our friends, lover, and the way by which we express our feeling of love and do the great work of loving, no matter what befalls us as a whole single civilisation in Modern time from the thoughtlessness of blind, unknowing nature. 

To master our self and do what is right, what is the highest good, the ideal in each situation, every circumstance no mater how wide or narrow in scope, to persist effortfully and succeed effortlessly with a systematic rise in spirits, to feel hope, fearless desire for improvement of relations between entire parts of our whole and singular self, and likewise to make singular in being unassuming in our outlook towards our neighbours, compatriots, and global allegiance to universal siblinghood, universal responsibility of citizenry, whether as netizens or members of communities within communities within states, within nations, across all borders and with love, for all, by all, freely given, freely chosen as to what form fitting the instant in time, freely receiving of others’ positive intent, wholesome and fully real and touchable, sensible, thoughtful; patiently building foundations of non-violent inter-state solutions to what babies understand not about the complexities of world relations, as to the eye of the newly born blessed with sight, the light of the sun or a bulb may reign on an entirely new movement of love for the midwifes and parents’ and custodians and village members and that each newborn be given an equal treatment by all who support the movement of life’s defeating of death, the hope needed to prevail, the perseverance necessary to go on, and to continue to go on, and to look in any which direction but never to return to the foolery that has led us here to swiftly reinstitute our joint-family of hand-holding, fun-loving, expressive, all-feeling, all-knowing, all-respecting, all blessing and hoping for the peaceful, harmonious success of joint ventures. 

I’m rooting for you and ya’ll, from the other side. EastWestNorthSouth and into the heavens and down through the middle of the earth (if one dares to dream)- I personally prefer the quiet of a simple life, organised home, and the privacy of love which only one can quite understand in their own way, as we swap pages and places, and get to task. 

        Number one todo: Work to benefit and increase the benevolence of all who are other to me, a single human being together with all my human relatives known and unknown to me on a lonely planet listening to the universal fusion of music owing its masterfulness to in addition to tradition, a special novelty, original creation to the recognition of the breaking down of categories not of our own deciding, branded onto us at birth and cruelly regimented onto our life even as we begin to fight these vestiges of darker ages, when we did not choose, but allowed the notion of destiny to carry us away. 

        Now the time has come to review words and escape the misinterpret able, to go deep into sleep and rejuvenation of the body, and to wake up tomorrow to think more deeply about where I am needed, who needs me, who does not need or want me, and who am I willing to become to advance my efforts towards solidarity for all those grieving those who never made it this far, and to prevent death from ever taking another of our human race, split apart by national borders and misgivings, when instead we could offer love for free, for what is the value of love that must prove itself to the beloved? All are welcome, and over the span of life, love truly will always prevail.

Us dang se bolte the

I used to write in images- now I just speak my mind. Have I lost my footing in the world that wraps around? Wind sweeping on a cold fall day, slapping my face and bellowing through soft clothes, reminding me of my fragile bones chilling, convulsing in a shiver. 

I used to feel the rhythm of language, each word in its place, each word in its time. Some hitting like a hammer, others waving with one other like a wind chime- writing with a fever for the musicality of rhyme. 

I used to write with all my senses, even if just in metaphors. I was a sky of many colors- orange, pink, and darkening late evening blue. The elements had importance, too: air, water, earth, and fire- changing forms with moods. Feeling now like a pond nearing evaporation, and now overflowing its sloshing muddy banks. 

Craggy, mountainous terrains on maps of obstacles. Falling burning limbs of forest fire telling of hopeless desire. Empty space and invisible distance, showing up as stretched-out arms. 

But now the abstract unfolds more freely, in the flipping pages of my book, and I’m here still, sitting with that vacant look. 

1996-1999-2025->.....................!

 My Tribute to Azhar

Kya baat, kya koshish

Kitne soch ko nikaldiye aap

Kitna jukh jukh ho ke focus

 

Litakthe hue Quran

Apne kande par nahi,

Lekin sir ki bilkul samne

 

Woh savaal hi puchte rehti

Pakistan bhi me

 

Ki yeh Aadmi hai ya kilhadi?

Yeh killhadi hai ya toh jihadi?

 

Bool jate ki kilhadi bhi ji the hain

Kel ke aakir ki baad

Aap bhi koya hai

Woh kilhadi ki kel

 

Voh chandaar balyabaazi ki bail

Voh Papaji ki chain mail

 

Kapil bhi rohte, apne liye yah toh kisliye?

Jab ek pura neeche vale ke log ki captain the aap

Aur upar vale ka bhi

 

Aap ki jhuk jhuk kande par

Ham duniya dekha tha

Eden Garden ki rassi ki andar

 

Ham rakhi jaise banda

Bhai- bhai

Tab bhai behan

Tab dost dushmon

Aur sala friend

 

Aur yeh masala mein

Ek lakh log aapki ped ko jukh ke kade hogaye

Nachte hue

Ithihas ki niyam ki rokhai me

 

Kya baat, aapki bat

Kya chalan, aage-peeche

Koy nahi nuxan

Aur log abhi bhi bolte hain

 

Aap jaada time diye ham sab ko

Binha kuch mangke

 

"bas khelne doh"

Kurukshetra ki ane ke liye kaafi gante hai abhi bhi