Posted in Poetry


What the… How dare you… What is wrong with your…
Anger, Frustration, Sadness, Hate, Emotions, Oh my!
It’s just a strict map of impersonal facts, I say.
Umph! Whatever, just shut up. You say.
It’s just words that are rhetoric, dismiss them for superstition. I say.
It’s a creative force that gives wings to perceptions. You say.
Language, it aspires to sciences natural condition. I say.
Haaa!! The arrangement is poetic, literature illiterate. You say.
Well, aren’t you just a humanist. I say.
And aren’t you just a positivist. You say.

Mind your language!
Hold your tongue this instant!
Language tends to form a framework around our ideologies,
Philosophers gain a skill to pattern words to seek their implications.
Its twists and turns tend to form a mathematical equation;
A decoded puzzle of grammar hard to some and easy to others,
Linguists in their peculiar solidarity so enthusiastic that it seems a wordplay.



She is one of the unselfish creatures, You know, who are just peculiar in their ways. Who will for pure love and admiration Bind themselves willing slaves To a cause which doesn’t affect her in any way, To youth though she lost it a blue moon ago, To bright hopes that by strength always shone, To dreams that light her luminous life, To a faith that goes way beyond her reasoning.

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