Rest In Peace Ngo….
We fondly remember your cheer..
What sort of answers satisfy you when you are faced with those questions that simply refuse to be answered?
The patience of man
Had over many ages
Given to his own land
Births of many images.
It has made gods
Of so many symbols;
Earthly made rods,
Also celestial balls.
In his long wait
His patience creates
Answers that relate
Only to his state.
The clouds of reason
Cover his horizons;
Make a sky season,
Or mystic masons.
Sight is so deceptive
That it can tilt a view,
Halo any perspective
With inspired preview.
Man looks around
And sees such beauty,
Beyond any he found
Or his own humanity.
In his natural urge
He pays respects to
Visions and courage,
Where honour isn’t due.
In his all human way,
He puts faith in those
He comprehends’ll stay;
Idolizing his very nose.
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Confused at the reason why anyone must,
Scared of the height beckoning my lust.
Struggling up the first ledge as I edge up,
Proud to have made it up my own little top.
Further up more battles, the way is yet more.
Betrayed by falling rocks I yearn for before;
Holding on to dear life, yet another average.
Dejected by unfriendly weather and also age.
Angry to slip off the steep, rubbed in bruises.
Disappointed to lose the gained just pushes;
Gasping up yet another route should matter,
In time it comes to never prove any better.
Surprised by the like company all about,
Reason enough for such to pine on without
The appreciation my efforts and gains deserve.
Tired yet gladden by that view, a pleasure.
Knowing I cannot stay forever there on top.
When and not if I return grounded from up;
Normal should I be again, only different
With experience and lessons time can’t dent.
If I return pushed from its highest cliff’s edge
Or in honour received at finished time’s verge,
I’ll wrestle my older age’s embers of last mood;
Helplessly watch it win all my trophies and food.
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The beats of sounds speaks out
To be heard outside thought.
Taught mind holds out its arms
Which melodies caress and disarms.
Balance placed all around is
Fondly rolled out like this.
With august carpets welcomed
To change moods succumbed.
Beauty revealed in rhythm
That alone fills the chasm,
Teach that nature is a song
Sang in the world it belong.
Listening to living all about,
Natural in whisper or shout.
Speaking like a language
For all alive, of every age.
This one common dialect
That nature would select,
To talk to all its wards
Over whom it does lords.
Into the rhymes of beats
Even the soul also eats.
For the monastery of man
Isn’t too lonely to jam.
Drummed beats within ribs
Carry breath beyond its cribs.
Heard inside ears’ own confine
Till sound buries its own coffin.
This atmospheric gaol of man
He has only, all he does plan.
In its whirl spin of mystery,
It entertains man’s misery.
Trunk sounds nosy trumpets
Like fluty birds in high nests.
Peckers tap wooden gongs
As leggy harps chirp songs.
The hiss lull of breezy air
And crescendo a storm blare;
Conducts brown, green and blue
Into a harmony hardly new.
As sound speaks and entertain,
Nature so musically maintain
The oneness of all it breeds;
Sanely soothing all it feeds.
The metaphor portrays the act
That cannot dispute the fact;
That the fruit of this only life
Metamorphose with all alive.
Faith small as a lil’ mustard seed
Would lift a mulberry tree and a sea feed.
Obedience, constant as air in breath
Would walk water as land with its might.
AGE STEALS ALL
Somewhere in all days;
Witnessed as is always,
In the morning’s blue skies
As in the nights’ goodbyes.
It stops the singing,
Matches the hatching.
In its crawling time,
It bettered the wine.
With nothing to give,
It gives and yet deceive.
Wizen the ripened old;
Consumed and still sold.
Young the years grew
And gathered all anew.
Stealth gets its way
As age steals all away.
WILL YOU MARRY ME?
These intimate songs we sing
Blend aged dreams into a ring
That weds our gendered stew
In matrimonial oneness not new.
When I do die; and I surely will,
If you cry I will not surely heal.
When you cry, it wouldn’t purge.
If you still do, please stop I do urge.
You should laugh because of this;
I knew of this and prepared as it is.
At least I tried hard, so why the cry?
I made my best of it to say this bye.
Do not paste your perception of me
And print your story for all to see.
I curse they that make some booklet,
For my funeral service I will never let.
If I am not writing my own story,
Then no human has the right or glory.
I dare he who owes no single sorry
And desires a life long torment so gory.
Sing if you must, pray if you would,
Don’t put out my picture in some mood.
Remember me as you last saw me or see fit,
Don’t display my body without me in it.
Days’ moments after death’s end,
Do bury me quickly there and then.
Wait not for all or some sunny day,
Do only just as my true home say.
My spoils I have all so shared,
In needs as deeds I had cared.
I owe only God first not any,
I paid debts I could, every penny.
I tried living because I just must,
Though like all others, I have lost.
I craved to blink ever so ready
For that spot and time so ready.
Earth has been all angry again,
Man did upset hers again;
Like he does again and again.
His efforts in controlling has been
Fixed as to betray his weakness seen;
She’s polite, not rash as harsh in between.
But you wonder how long for,
This sea-saw ride will further go?
Calmly, then hard ends a crescendo.
JUST THIS ONCE
Truthfully none lives all alone,
But dead as alive all has none.
Living is thwarted,
Obscured by its folly.
The mind is hunted,
Impossible even if jolly.
When a bird sings,
It’s because it must.
What any age brings
Speaks for you most.
Black like blind,
Silent as the mind.
Faith is in the act
And not in the pact.
Early all the time,
Always in its prime.
The sights are blind,
At night we all find.
So in their prime,
The nights of time;
Whiter though blind,
Says what is to find.
In whirls of a mind;
Never there to find,
Nights sure as time
Are safe for to pine.
People loose their own mark,
Showing off what they lack.
Each time brings its fear to us
And it shows in our every fuss.
Ours is made just as real,
That is not just how it feel.
For in giving what we have,
We only take like we gave.
Never really asking for trust,
For we do know what it cost.
Desire should make a picture
That should show its future.