Anupriya Kumari, Hope, Human Nature, Life, Love, Loyalty, Passion, Poetry, Purpose, Resilience, Terese, Teresums

Burn a Candle Against the Night

Light a stick of jasmine tonight
And I will light one too.

A stick shall burn near the sea,
And another near the mountains.

Is not jasmine the same scent for everyone?

Burn a tapering candle tonight
And I will burn a tapering candle too.

Continue reading “Burn a Candle Against the Night”

Alison, Eudaimonia, Love, Poetry, Quality of Life, Self-Flourishing, Well Being

A Fool and His Cottage

I sit on my patio,
Watch the man tug the leash,
The dog tug the man,

Both of them passing by
Faster than birdsong
Can shove a cloud
Across the sky.

Continue reading “A Fool and His Cottage”

Love, Poetry

The Mountains are Always Moving

When have you last looked at the clouds
Long enough to see them moving?
The clouds are always moving,
When have you last looked at the clouds?

When have you last looked at the mountains
Long enough to see them moving?
The mountains are always moving,
When have you last looked at the mountains?

When have you last looked at your beloved
Long enough to see them moving?
Your beloved is always moving,
When have you last looked at your beloved?

Creativity, Cultural Change, Cultural Traits, Culture, Emotional Dependency, Ideas, Invention, Love, New Idea, Passion, Poetry, Possessiveness, Romantic Love

The Time When the Universe Began to End

(About a 4 minute read)

It is incredible to me that the Arab and Persian Court Poets lumped possessiveness in with love to arrive at the concept of “romantic love”. But they did. The gods themselves were so disbelieving when they witnessed it that they forgot to wank for six days and six nights, and stars began to fall from the sky. The universe began to end! Nevertheless, it was true. The poets really, honestly did lump possessiveness in with love!

The consequences have been devastating. In effect, the poets created a schizophrenic concept of love.

Continue reading “The Time When the Universe Began to End”

Abuse, Love, Poetry

Each Year the Emerald Grass

(About a 2 minute read)

The red bud’s magenta blossoms
Explode above the emerald grass
That’s sprinkled with bright yellow lions,
And fresh with the afternoon rain.

The dark sky is passing now,
The sun returns along with a breeze
And I can smell the earth,
It smells like her hair.

Come sit with me in the grass, Marysa,
Come sit with me while it’s tall,
And before John cuts it.
Come sit close to me in the grass.

Each year the grass reminds me of her.
Marysa, each year the spring
Reminds me of her.

Her blond hair flowed in curls
Like a waterfall down her back,
And her smile danced
Like sunlight glinting off the ripples
Of a deep lake.

She was your age, Marysa
She was seventeen, and each year
The emerald grass reminds me of her.

Marysa, she did not go willingly
Into her night.

She was forced down
Pushed down
Held down
Choked down in a long ago spring
By a possessive boyfriend
Who strangled her
With an extension cord
For saying she loved a better man.
For saying she loved me.

Come sit with me in the grass, Marysa,
Come sit close to me in the grass.
Each year the grass reminds me of her.
Marysa, each year the emerald grass
Reminds me of her grave.

Life, Love, Outlaw Love, Poetry

“Words Won’t Fuck (A Love Letter For Tava)”

(About a 2 minute read)

“Words Won’t Fuck
(A Love Letter for Tava)”

Words are all we have
To communicate with.
Gods they are not enough!
They don’t fly fast as light,
And they don’t transmit all at once,
And they don’t hit hard as rocks,
And they don’t state exactly,
Precisely what you’re saying.

Fucking words don’t fuck
Well enough!

That’s the truest way to fuck, you know,
To commune with another person —
To perfectly commune with someone –
That’s the real way to fuck.
Just so you know, Oh Virgin!

Just so you know before the world
Messes you up and says that fucking
Is all about pleasure. ALL about pleasure.
Pleasure is a tenth of it.
Anyone who has had sex
But never communed
While having sex
Is still a fucking virgin –
Pun intended.

Oh World you’re an asshole
Because all you see in fucking
Is who got who
And who got an orgasm
And who got had
And who got their rocks off
And who got beat
And who got defeated.
Asshole.

Oh World you’re an asshole.
And words won’t fuck
And I’m miserable tonight
And I’m ragged and I’m raging
And I just want to be inside her
(Not in you World. In Her.)
And in communion
And she’s ten thousand miles away
AND WORDS WON’T FUCK.

Creativity, Cultural Change, Cultural Traits, Culture, Human Nature, Ideas, Invention, Life, Literature, Love, Lovers, Memes, New Idea, New Love, Poetry, Quality of Life, Relationships, Romantic Love, Writing

Will Tomorrow Bring a Better Love?

(About a 1 minute read)

Over a thousand years ago, a handful of Persian and Arabic court poets created a new way of looking at one of the seven or eight kinds of love.  Today we still see that kind of love largely through their eyes.  We call it “romantic love”.

Of course romantic love has been around since the first homo sapiens — and most likely even before them.  It’s as old as the yellow grasses of Africa.  But it has not always been seen — it has not always been understood — in the way we see and understand it today.

Here’s a thought for you.  The world is coming together and I think it is likely that quite soon, some group of “poets” will create a new way of looking at love — one suited to a global culture.  But if that wild idea comes true, then hold your breath!  How people see love influences how they love.

If and when a new way of seeing love comes about — will that way be overall a good thing for the world, or a bad thing?

In my opinion, it could go either way.


For more on this topic, see this post.