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Above images are screenshots of some of Elon Musk’s tweets about his cave rescue bid. “Something’s messed up if this is not a good thing.” — EM
elon’s basilisk
elon musk’s kid-size submarine is a no go
it’s quite too late for the rescue,
he could have been a roadster hero
instead he’s nursing a bruised ego.he shrugs and smiles at any rate,
the world is as it should be today.he rolls up his sleeves above the hype
to pull out more of his rocket tricks,
he surely knows there’s more to life
than craven caves and dropping bricks.the sun is generous, and powerpacks are rife
he’ll down the coffee, and defer to the basilisk.© said sadain, jr. 2018
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image by geraldsimon00 @ pixabay.com
revolution
has it come to this? a world
that wobbles on its heels
and stands still to try
a futile balancing act. -
image is a mashup from photos contributed by shrutikhanna and PublicDomainArchive @ pixabay.com
Abdul, on the eve of an ambush
a rifle rests in my arms for now
steel chilling the bones which ache
for the children and the wife in my mind
and the maddening smell of morning rice
as in a dream along my nape
covered with hungry hair. -
For this post, allow me to share with my blogging community glimpses of an unlikely world that you, dear reader, may not normally find yourself in: the Masjid an-Nabawi (or Prophet’s Mosque) of Madinah al-Munawwarah (the Enlightened City) in Saudi Arabia.
the Masjid an-Nabawi surrounded by its wide piazza, its giant umbrellas still folded in the early morning. photography by ssj
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a Cordyline species red-fruited palm lily. photography by ssj, 2013
a tense life
against a calm sky,
a clear day,
but only for a while.© said sadain, jr. 2013
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In a parallel universe, I would have been a prolific writer, churning out, day and night, streams of prose and poetry, and kilometric reams of novels and essays, you would wonder if I ever stop for anything, if I ever sleep a blink (assuming you would also be in that parallel universe). But no, I am in this universe, where I stop for red lights and sleep like a log, and blog in a most laconic way. And you, probably amused by now about what, if ever, may have happened to that book project I wrote about here a few times last year.
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image by Comfreak at pixabay.com
this is water
this is water we must learn to love
while it embraces us beneath our skins
and with our best to keep it pure
lest we forget to swim and drown in sins. -
image by photo-graphe at pixabay.com
The Tempest
It looms on the horizon riding the back of waves
raising sails in ashen canvas that can only burst
to spread fury and fire rains and dancing dervishes.
It draws in breath to still the air
so that palm fronds will cock their ears
and sand crabs will freeze their eyes
while rocks and roots will beat like bulls
a rhythm for an ancient ritual dance.
- when the lustered sea embraces the sand, is it to claim or cede its flotsam? when my mind sails with the rolling wind, is it to cast or catch a sparkle?
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