Thursday, 10 November 2016

Khanata's And

Khanata's And.

Aga sat aghast,
Palm 'f hand, damp
"Khanata, was at last."

The Aga's Papy stark splay angry,
Dynasty at and.
Apax past.

Bara-Bera was the pall-bearer.
Matched by name.
Then afters she changed

Her symmetry name,
She swapped e, sawn a.
Papy was at pain.

Gleary saw past stamps.

Regal Bara-Bera spanned
The bane'd past Khanata
Then she became name'd
as the new Dynasty.
The Bara-Bera Khanate.


In our verbal world allowing for full and proper vowelation:

Papy chose Barabara as wife for his regal son, the Aga Khan, because her nominal symmetry was apparent, whilst subtly different. After all true symmetry belonged in the Heavens and not in any earthly domain.

In his dominion and the dominion of his father's, that just off symmetry had been maintained by law on pain of death, that allowed the use of "a" as the only vowel sound that could be used. The ee of y was tolerated as an aberration to be overlooked, and scurried under.

Barabara was the ideal wife for Aga. But there is always a case against being too ideal.

She was loved by the people, the people's queen. Whilst the hereditary power of the Aga appeared to diminish.

Bara-Bera revealed herself and the only Khanata came to an "And" moment. E only just stood equally against A.

Bara-Bera became immortalised in the new Khanate.
Whilst Papy was locked away in a tower with only his regal stamp collection to remind him of those beautiful day, that made him just more bleary eyed.

But the glory of, not his days, but the days of his people would be seen to pass those enshrined in his stamps.

The Aga was confined to the role of puppet to be brought out on show at opportune moments. But once the E was unleashed, who could put that genie back in his bottle?

That he had witnessed the numbering of the days of his Khanata because of an engineered love, that turned into a vile scorn, he would never be allowed to forget.

How many revolutions would it take for the three others to be given free expression?


Tuesday, 1 November 2016

Belt of Air

Belt of air.

His belt was one to avoid
The anger rose
Like a bubble burst

Not the fizzle and dazzle
Of soft drinks
But the fester of those that let the anger build

Any excuse to be rough and crude
Which they put down to inhibitions being smoothed

They float gently to the top
Rolling all the bad feelings

Hang ups, into one
Big venting bubble of an air.

That when it erupts
Hurts, and tears,
Relationships apart

And the atmosphere surrounds us all,
As a belt that keeps within
All the vile bile that spews
When confronted by no difference at all.

Save our skin thick colour
That hides our common blue veins
Our red thumping hearts that bleed, when those inconsolable words, pain.

Our common ancestry
Is conveniently forgot
Or is engineered by paradigm
To seem like not a lot

But blood is thicker than air
And whilst air will out
Blood should not.

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

Location:Tory England