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 sloshy 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

Edited for Hindi-Urdu Grammar (vyakhran)

Wednesday, May 21 12:33 PM (Completion Time) (New York - Atlanta) Time Zone - Athenian

We walked, and walked, and walked, and walked, like the Native Indians on their trails of Tears, and yet, thru all of these museums, all of these galleries, trying to read, trying to understand, trying to appreciate Art, and yet, my favorite artistsMussalman, Christian, Jew milke ek din yeh cheez pe agree kiye ki Homosexuality Illegal hai aur Diagnostic aur Statistical Manual main bhi likha tha ki yah paglainiaturist painters of the Mughal courts, the Stone Masons who chiseled away laboriously at the Greek “Artist’s” works, these opuses of ours, the bust of Socrates given to me by Marianna, who Armenian and Soviet lived through some of the worst of Time, and yet, why did my artist not allow me to be her Muse? And-Aur happy years of Depression Must I endure, joyfully, before I can return Home, to that hearth, that chess board, those pieces, that music, that piano, that elephant, that staircase, that bannister, Now adorning the Hips of the West, and the Safety of the East, the Ears of my soul, the Kheer that we Extol, the Rassa Gulla, so Cheekably Pullable, and My Sis, always looking out for me not to prey victim to the Vicious Oscilliations of Mechanical Death, and yet, we Experimented upon <by> the Nazis who live among us, the Soviet Psychiatrists, the Jewish Persuaders of Pontius Pilate, to have the Romans carry out the deed while they feast on their porch and Ed takes a look into MY WIFE, and yet, MY LIFE is still being self-determined, by none other than Conscious Manas, Conscience Manas, Consciencientous manas, for which Compassion has its place, and time, but for whom The Punchout Blow had to be resigned to the Last Resort, for those suppose'd Conquerors of MY India, Nature Study Park, Outram Street, Shakir ke Ghar, AanA? Aur Ananya ki sacrifice, hamari Treasure, woh Bhojpuri, Lollipop, woh Bengali Presidency, jis ki Topper Ka Naam Maine kabhi Bula Nahi, Orpheus, Kyonki Black Orpheus ne Hell ka Kaam katam kardiya Ethiopia mai, aur Athens mai, aur India mai, aur ham Mario aur Luigi Super Nintendo Bhaiy Log, Japan dill se, neeche se uppar, pipes ke bandar, Bandook ke peeche, Goli ke neeche, Ghar ke divaalon me, Jukh jukh jukkh jukh jukh ke, ham kabhi uppar dekha nahi is zindagi me, jab se mere Papa ne Kaha, “Sit up Straight”, jab se mere sensei* ne kaha, “Straighten those knees soldiers” aur jab se Krishna ne Kaha Ladayi Mat Kar, bas, bohut ho gaya! Yeh Yud ko choro, Ham Jew Hoon SabyaSachai, Samuel ka schackles ko le ke, ekhi breath mai, andaaz se pura Gestappo, SS, Brown Shirts (Context Important hai), joh Irami ne Sikhaya khi Martin Luther aur Anne Frank khi umar Ekhi tha, lekin Martin Luther Jiya Aadmi, aur Anne Frank ko un logon ne Mar dhi. Mussalman, Christian, Jew milke ek din yeh cheez pe agree ki: ki Homosexuality Illegal hai aur Diagnostic aur Statistical Manual main bhi likha tha ki yah paglai hai, aur Munmun Bhai ne wohi AIDS andolon ko Shuru kiya jab makkhi jaise log gir rahe the anemia se, tuberculosis se, malaria se, chikunguniya se (kya duniya hai yeh??), pneumonia se, aur dengue se bhi… Meri Dost, khoyo mat mujhe? Main Hoon, na? Aur Aap? Aur…hum?

p.s. 

Written In Defense of My Selfs. I rest my Case.

(edited for vyakrhan and pureness- August 20th, 4:23 PM Georgia Standard Time)

Second Attempt at PhiloDelphic Love

 Plato’s Apology:

Dear Dad,

I’m sorry for not being completey Truthful with you. In fact, there were secrets hidden from me, which I did not realise until being told many moons later.

To put it lighty, I am (not) your father, however amniotic fluids do concern me. As they ought to concern anyone.

I dream to go back to simpler times when we reproduced asexually and coud expand our progeny while remaining a part of the bigger picture.

Many trees are being felled, and many organims, bacterial or otherwise have been hijacked by viruses- those intruders who know us not, yet attempt to replicate our Deoxyribose nucleic Acid.

I am a fan of yours, but also your son, sexually so. I understand the torment of being childess when all that we dream of is allowing you to become Grandfather (not a clock, not a time-keeper, but just You, in whatever shape and form you must synthesize to create on behalf of our Race. The human Race (e.g. for the gamers- “Ready Player One”- Spielberg) 

However, for those of US who are not deceived, we march onwards, like Christian Soldiers going up against the ignoble Salaadin, not welcomed by my Grandfathers (Grandpa didn’t make it to their wedding), let alone the True Roots of Athens, wherein tourists come to see the Tree that Owns Itself. We all know who Conceived of A Tree that woud Own Itself (and if you haven’t read His books yet, well then, what are you waaaiting for??).

Bringing me back to Espousal relationships- The Just Family, I was compelled to read when I drove to Harts field-Jackson to pick her up, my bride, only a fortnight or so before the wedding ceremony. Little known fact is that we were not officially married until we made an appearance in a Oconee County Courtroom (for some procedural issue we were unable to get the job done in Athens). Good thing for us, Oconee county has some of the best schools in the country. Bad news for us is, Racialism and racist attitudes (as a result of the aforementioned Racialism)(tacitly observed) abound in this suburb of Athens that was borne out of Segregationist attitudes and anti-White, anti-White/Black, anti-Chinese, anti-Indian, anti-Hispanic, anti-impoverished sentiment)(‘White Flight’).

What have we learned since that day?

To temper our Passion. To suffer silently. To have remorse. To (who) apologizes, Earnestly.?

To not be exploited and not to exploit!!!!!!!!!!! To always “call a spade a spade” in the ‘words’ of ‘Jay Electronica’ (whomever his shrink is may have something to say on the record, too).

Knowing these truths to be self-evident and factual, we return to my days as an Athenian scholar (though I was not at my best circa 2014-2017-+-(I had much Greater peope on my mind))(and their loved ones, too, who were being malnourished, (poisoned and starved, sexploited, lied to, threatened, bludgeoned and set on fire, all in the name of tradition blindly followed by vicious humans, guilty of not distinguishing their animal instincts (explained a priori, and pleading not-guilty, in retrospect) from their own responsibility as a rational free agent. For all those involved in the lynching that continued to happen, observed in-person by traumatized individual (who have already heard of such terror, have experienced in vicariously, and whom have lived through it themself), we offer asylum, care, comfort, and a Reeducation worthy of any Rectificatory Friend/love bird- For those of us still on the ground, ground level, good luck with making it back to the first floor! For that you may need a mezzanine staircase and a cast-iron rusty lift (though in our family, we do what is necessary to allow access to any rational animal in any condition physically, genetically, emotionally, sexually, and even morally to live a long life, long enough to “Right His Wrongs” and Recite these songs, and to premeditate only Grace, Spacious Space, Flavorful Favors, Incredible Neighbors, 5 burroughs left behind, for a New Land, not a Brave New World in Aldous Huxley’s mind, but rather a world in which we all must, without exception, follow those Universal Declarations of Human Rights, screamed by the mute for time immemorial, known by the dumb since 2001, eaten by the worms and maggots in the hot Australina sun, poured into the Roman roads and Gotham homes...you live the reality you admire, and your end comes when you die. That is all, that is all, and you’ve done well my friend. We need not Hope for a faithless Hope, unless that faithless hope is confident in its Atheistic Spiritual Friends. We do not steal, we do not kill, we do not covet, we do not encourage still births, we do not lie, we do not feel guilty for Being Just, we do not cower in the dust, we do not scrape away our marks, or carry over our Musk to bottles designed as technology for unscrupulous seducers.

We Help the Poor. We Bless the non-living. We work with our hands, we eat with our hands, we show our thumbs-turned up to recognize the evolutionary ancestry which augmented our ability to master nature, to destroy the blind bounds of evolutionary theory, to be the measurers of all things- in the past. All that has come, all that has gone, now I delight in the present-day songs, the whims and fancies of my Negative Nancies and Gloomy Randy’s, uplifting them and bearing the brunt of their occlusion of their own delusions, who seem to be unable to “Handle the truth” or even to recognize the Truth of Truth itself. When I know in my heart Who is the Truist, then I have my metaphorical compass to guide my messages to the Universe with exact precision, specificity and sensitivity to the nth degree. What month am I born, that coud be for you to ponder, what is my favorite car, well- drive on Brother, Who was my favorite image? Myself of course? Beause in this wonderful world I have had the Extreme Gratitude and Privilege of knowing the finest Women known to Man. And I am he, Manas Samuel Winfield (Don’t forget the Lincoln Logs- let’s get to building (objects, not people!).

With ALL MY LOVES In the WORLD working overtime,

A blank check,

to replace my blank stare,

What would you rather have from me?

Love, 

manas

Dedicated to my Family away from Athens. You all know who you are and what you mean to me. Immense pride.

Love, Dad

 Not being able to see my father on Father’s Day, 2023 (6/14/23):

This Father’s Day

I will continue to be removed

From the table where we would normally have shared a meal

My father and I

Along with my Amma

And even apart from a family video chat

With my brother and sister, too,

Due to having picked up a criminal charge

In the midst of mania

A molehill turned into a mountain, in my mind

Though a scary moment for dad, it must have been

Given our tumultuous past year

Which for me has been not much fun,

Not too easy, at all

Though I still am living off the kindness of my parents,

Dad included

And I do not suspect any enduring bad blood, from his side,

Though maybe my brother or sister feel I am getting off too easy

While they work to pay their bills.

This Father’s Day, I suppose

I will be preparing for a series of future Father’s Days

In which, I will not be seeing my father

Not be giving him the kiss on the cheek,

And hug, which I had planned the day I went to jail, instead.

An uncertain future for me, and Amma, and my brother and sister

Without Dad there at all

Unimaginable, unfathomable, as he has a way of

Running the whole show

In which we are evaluated from the level of authority

Of a distinguished philosopher,

Doing double duty as a loving dad.

This Father’s Day I wonder

Will my absence be felt in my father’s heart?

Am I any more to him than a nuisance?

As yet unable to stand on my own two feet,

As he suggests, each person ought to, or must, do,

In order to be free.

Well, my freedom feels handicapped,

By my own inability to live well

To be well

To sustain a livelihood

To sustain relationships

To patiently pursue my interests and hobbies

To focus on what is most important

All the things that my father has done my whole life,

And it seems, for the whole life he lived before I was ever born,

A 39 years expanse which has made it hard for me to understand

The workings of his being.

This Father’s Day,

I’ll sit around at home, alone

Maybe writing more poems for my father

Honouring his name and accomplishments

Feeling disenchanted now and maybe more sentimental then