FarmVille

I remember how girls would play house
grown men today cultivate FarmVille
if a preferable addiction to sauce
in some suburb of do-no-harm-ville
with dramatics from Cecil B. DeMille
do they plow to the cadence of Straus?
everyone's gotta find a way to chill
I remember how girls would play house

a Tukaram verse (on words)

Words are the only jewels I've got
words are the only clothes I wear
verbal victuals sustain my lot
logos the sole largesse I share
quoth Tuka "behold the Word! God is He!
through words is his worship performed by me"


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[English tweaked & versified by yours truly, working from a version quoted here]

rubai occasioned by an intellectual exchange

The status of the river is never quo
the stillness of the cloud is a constant flow
that tale is best retold from start to end
whose gist (alas) is a thing I've yet to know

rubai from a Clarington Avenue seat

I sit at the foot of Clarington on a railroad track   & listen
from Highway 10 sounds an ocean of cars   slow April windshields glisten
long out of work am I out of luck?   a vernal breeze wafts delicate
the thing I've sought I have yet to find   ergo I have yet a mission

rubai responsive to a tweet

You can say that again (so to speak)
in Italian Chinese or Greek
what we find is an endless expanse
of unknowing the thing that we seek


responsive to @DAVID_LYNCH: "Sometimes it's difficult to put in words or even think what it is that we are all looking for."