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#ENEWSGHPoeticLicence: Hopeless Hope – Asford Psalm

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Once ago, there lived a man by name Chance and his wife- Hope.

The birth their children; Past, Present and Future.

Long before Present and Future, Past was their one and only.

He got most of what he wanted.

Yet, he grew into what they didn’t suggest.

By his unruly behavior, they begat the Present, his little sister.

Not by his parent’s prayer but the Present got married to what he deserves.

And soon he flew into oblivion to a place where his anger for his parents will travel months before it could reach them.

But their love for him stayed true though they lost touch in all view.

The Present grew half of a day and she saw her mother pregnant again.

Their little family was in a happy display.

 

Hope went into labor and Chance went home to prepare and come to aid her.

Hope couldn’t make it so Future was cut-out for incubation.

The Present and Chance made a back-and-forth; from the hospital to their home, again and again as they hop, hop, hop.

One day, on their way, in the metal horse, his mind was flooded with Hopes thought.

Chance needn’t beg for the same fate.

And amidst all the things constant to change, death wouldn’t obey such laws as made.

The thoughts in his head was a curse of the day as they clashed off the road into a tree in the open plain.

Now, here is the future; dented with the past, no Hope nor Chance but a crippled and dying present.

What has the Future got with none of these around?

Just a word will do.

Do tell when it tinkles in your head.

 

 

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Photography & Spoken Word

#ENEWSGHPoeticLicence: Think Thoughts – Poet Amaze

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THINK THOUGHTS
What a man desires
Is what the mind designs
All ties entangle
But not all bind
As wishes elude
Even dreams delude
Man claims to rise
On guesses and conjectures
Fueled by no basis
Just to realize
He filters not
what he sees through
But to see through
Is to accept
The laws of nature
When that is met
Our ideas can be hatched
And then be able be touch.
via Poet Amaze
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#ENEWSGHPoeticLicense: Iron Son – ASFORD PSALM

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Born of flesh.

Born of blood.

I was fed milk and bread.

Till I could feed with my own hand.

 

Born to into a land of what is fare or not clear.

Into a land as bare.

Land as clear and bare as a babe’s palm.

 

Land of possibilities.

Land with hostilities.

Land I am to toil with responsibilities.

 

Under a sun so round.

Sun as hot.

Sun as round and hot as vapour from hades’s cooking pot.

 

I am a son of strength.

The strength of iron.

I am a son filled with the strength of man and iron.

 

Born of this land.

Into the land of sand.

Land fields of sand made of iron.

 

I, son of iron.

I have to work these fields made of iron.

Whilst I sweat, facing the sun whose rays are as piercing as iron.

 

I, son of iron, I will work the fields of iron and face the sun of iron.

I am determined and will quake the gates, even of Zion.

And make everything in it shake to feel my presence as I roar, though I am a man and not a lion.

 

I, son of iron, born of flesh, blood and iron.

I work these fields of iron, to conquer my path and roar back to the sun of iron till he hears my voice.

 

 

Asford psalms.

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#ENEWSGHPoeticLicence: Her Golden Smile – Asford Psalm

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I play the jest for a reason that I may not fail.

For if I don’t, wrinkles will adorn on your forehead and that saddened face shall frail my heart and pale my face.

 

What good I’m I if I can’t keep the warm embrace of your golden smile on;

The one kings will ignore their knights and fight themselves for keeps?

And as your king, I will bow in the reasons of my jest, just to keep that golden smile always on.

 

Credit: Asford Psalms

 

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#ENEWSGHPoeticLicence: Interpretation – ASFORD PSALMS

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Meaning is vital in every facet of life.

Understanding is what makes purpose achievable.

And an understandable meaning is what drives thinking everything into completeness.

 

There are three sides to a coin.

The head; the tail and the curved rim which makes the coin have its shape.

Interpretation has the three sides of the coin.

The head; for the truth.

The tail; for the false.

And the rim as half way between the truth and false.

 

The understanding of meaning of a context lies with interpretation.

It is what drives internal conscious and unconscious thinking to external communication; communal interactions and global harmonization.

Interpretation is one hand that holds universal co-habitation.

No one can accurately understand a situation or context another man sees except him.

There is room for errors and they are generally based on interpretation.

When two people attempt to interpret to a degree, the same context, there will be tolerance.

 

Interpretation tries to define itself through comparison to a coin.

The truth is one; the false is, too.

But the curved rim makes the whole thing long.

When you toss a coin, either you get a head or a tail.

Truth can be told or false rolled.

But in our minds, the probability of the curved side in a toss, can’t hold.

And that is what makes the coin strong.

The thicker the rim, the stronger its faces.

The stronger the faces, the greater its power.

 

The coin of interpretation has given birth to many sisters.

Most of which are clearly sisters of confusion- in the religions, the sciences, economies and a lot more.

Religions have teased themselves with the pride of superiority.

Science has been linked to certain essence of religions.

Economies have tried to be sobered and has revolutioned to politics.

But the major human element which underlines these relatives is not often told because it is elusive, with or without caution.

 

Religons akin in many ways.

They have fundamental ideologies that binds their nature and principles.

They have scriptures, values, histories and tales which when subjected to human elements and understanding; its interpretation breeds the conflicts we all feel.

The same context can be read over and over again by different people and each tries to bring a differnt interpretation based on presumptive thrills.

And that blows the storm of chaos which have ravaged the world before the birth of time.

 

Even from the same home, science and religion have conflicted.

With creation, evolution and many other theories.

Religion has warred against science and science against religion on who and what forces holds the universe.

Religion has long been the opium of life and science tries to explain what is in life.

Human interpretation is what binds and the same drives them to wit ends.

For the more enligtened we get, the deeper the war rests.

And unless we read and perfectly interpret the hidden words in between the lines, the old times will never change.

The age of the sages will never end.

The room for thinking will never be shut.

The evolution in revolutioned will not end.

Human societies have created certain believes, teachings, wisdom contexts, economies and political warfield.

The tricks are ideological philosophies and they too need to be expounded.

Interpreting them creates the confusion that loots man of its sanity into pockets, at most, those with greed and unjustified wickedness.

 

In simple fact, you either interpret from the rim to the face, for the truth.

Or you interpret to the tail for the false.

Humans will always interpret to suit their understanding and purpose.

It’s just simple.

It is one of the things that brings the hue into a man.

 

 

 

Asford psalms.

 

 

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#ENEWSGHPoeticLicence: Solace in a man’s Sinful Solitude – Asford Psalm

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His Silent Sins

The actions of a man are but only the extension of his thoughts.

The lone traveled road, the whispers in his ears, is the silent sins held with the solitude of the voice shared only in his head.

 

Is a man liberated to be and live beyond his thinking?

Albeit, he cannot live above his thoughts, he can live above himself.

And nothing stops him.

Except in his vainglory, emptiness in his veins will remain pouring.

A man cannot rise above his thoughts; he is his thinking and his thoughts are him.

Except it is a dream he is having.

 

Can a man live at the other side of a mirror?

Nothing stops him.

But a man cannot prove to you someone he is not.

If he is good, he is good.

Except he is a good liar, then you won’t be able to tell his truth from the lie.

Even if he tells the lie, it is sweet and counts as good.

Then you know that’s the man, he cannot prove to you above that.

Withal! How can you tell?

Truth cannot stay hidden forever in the shadow of the moon.

The sun will shine when the time is right and then your guess is as good as mine.

 

 

A man may have enough yet still seek more.

Nothing hinders his path.

Except it moves from a wish into an act of a beseeching witch.

In his greed for more, his back will be away from the wall.

His path is lit with gravitating things then he will forget to look before he slips.

Few steps ahead lay an abyss and he shall fall but it will be late to have his last wish; that that abyss could have been just a shallow ditch.

 

A man can have all he wants; inclusive those not his.

Nothing bars him.

Except that the pleasure will lie at the tip and time has an abundant bit.

Forbidden fruit has always tasted the sweetest but when time catches up, he is the only one on the leash.

 

A man owns his own demons.

In his irascibility, a place he is to visit less, makes him drawn into the pleasure of power.

A delusion, the low hanging fruit on the forbidden tree will let him stay under the casted shade of pettiness.

What a pitiful pity!

 

A man makes his choices.

The reality of its outcome tells whether or not he is wise or otherwise.

Not claiming the outcomes adorns him to be wise but his actions are ultimately his prize.

 

A man can only be influenced to make a choice by his own thoughts or by the man next to him.

But even that man next to him has always been the man himself.

 

 

Asford Psalms

 

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#ENEWSGHPoeticLicence: Unintended – ASFORD PSALMS

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I am a good man.

Never held a real gun.

What I had was a toy one.

Not meant for killing- it was folly and fun.

 

I am a good man.

Never held a knife to kill another man.

The knife I held was for vegetables, an easter bunny, thanksgiving turkey, a chicken and another holiday’s ram.

I am a good man.

I never say things to break another man’s heart nor limbs.

But all of it doesn’t matter now- guns and knives, my words rather caused a rife.

 

I was a good man.

I never killed any other than a big ram.

But now I killed a soul; I killed a life, just before it begun.

It was unintended and this pun wasn’t fun.

 

I have really regretted.

Never did I beget the thoughts of ill rot.

The harm has been done so count me not a good man.

Now I cast my dice into the sight of the Creator’s sun and what’s not.

I plead to find favor in the right court.

I was a good man.

But as it stands, I wonder into the dark with my unintended thoughts.

Asford Psalms.

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