Morning Revelation of the Mirrored Truth
Slumber silently sings songs of tone-deaf oblivion
within reflections of vulnerable eyes
lost from the abyss in the mind.
--------------------------------------------------------------
Slumber suddenly signals signs of sudden awakening -
what madness do we live in,
where heaven is blind from noise
I Can Soar
As the bird flies high – so can I
With wings extended to soar
Into the hearts of men with fingers
To touch the soul forevermore
Comforting with soft, gentle touch
Easing pain I reposition
Wiping tears of a troubled heart
To my Savior I petition
Writing to create and stimulate
Painting words to color the bleak
Holding pen or bush carefully
To share His beauty I do seek
My fingers extend from my brain
Guiding ev’ry movement and thought
If only, I soar in quiet
With the birds, doing what I ought
As the bird soars high – so can I
With fingers as wings, working love
Into the heart of man in some way
Bringing honor to our Lord above
I can soar; I can soar all days
Through Him who always guides my way
-Evelyn Pearl Carpenter Anderson
LOVE IS A HANGOVER
HE beat me with his battered words.
He deceives me with with deceptful ways.
I live in his darkness of pain and loniness.
I long for his infidelity.
I taste his anger for me.
I sawllow his beating on me.
I look into his eyes. I see his hatred for me.
I drink myself drunk, until my love is a hangover.
Early dew of fall
[Early dew of fall:]
Musical notes fill the air as the sun comes to life.
And the colors of the fallen leaves dance in the youthful light.
Memories grow fond of such days like this.
When months create a story instead of a simple line to read...
Outside harmony falls from the heavens creating artwork for us to read.
As beauty itself defines what it means to be able to dream freely.
Would you care to go outside and catch these dreams with me?
Hidden under the tree as the leaves fall like rain,
Each one adding another lyric to this tone deaf city of ours,
Where our hope is often limited or quickly devour.
So take my hand and allow yourself to bloom in this early dew.
For it is the month of fall.
And i dedicate these happy moments to you.
-Robert F Burton
All is Silent
All is Silent,
Woosh,
Boom,
Woosh, woosh, woosh.
It all happens again,
and
Again.
The Past Can Change You
I use to call that house my home.
Now it makes me feel so alone
That is just another memory.
Another entry in my diary.
With every second that passes by.
I'm always looking back questioning "Why?"
And every minute that travels past me.
I finally start to really see.
All of that has happened.
All of that has been changed.
Was to make me smarter?
To make me wiser?
As I look back, now I truly see.
That everything that happened, happened to me.
I know I can't change the past.
It can't even be a task.
But, the future is where I'm headin'.
And you can put your bet in.
Where I'm goin' I can be free.
That where I'm goin' I can be me.
Internal Damnation
A soul with out creation, a core heart with no sensation, a body with out designation, a brain with no stimulation, a mind-less mind, so blind, it’s conscious is unkind.
A heart muscle that just beats, not knowing why, and what it is keeping alive. A seed to sow, but refuses to grow, does not care to see, what a beautiful thing it may bring. Eye’s that only see what they want to see. That view the unclean; thinking it is a normal thing. A night of sleep but refuses to dream for it does not want to see the person they really might be,
and not have the control stop such a thing.
Two hands that were given free will to touch and feel, like a blind eye; it can not see what it feels. Two feet to choose what ever permanent path they want, chooses a path with no direction, with out divine reason, lacking humanity has a word.
I have cried and cried for this soul, I have tried and tried to change such behavioral ways, but know I realize I can only just pray and hope that eternity won’t end up being the same as the temporal way’s this soul has displayed.
And I shall pray for myself for being so futile and vain caused by the root of such pain.
Random
Can you smell the essence of a rose in a glass jar?I try but don't know why I feel I'm so far! And so far I can say the love is there but the communication is so rare, that I sometimes stare into her presence when she's not even there! I act as if I do not care for I am manly, I just worry that she does not understand me and for this single parent thing there is no plan B. Especially if you have a beautiful daughter, don't you agree?
Play It
Play It
You were afraid in the beginning.
You were excited and filled with anticipation.
But, afraid.
Just holding her in your hands was a strange experience.
Awkward, like a first kiss.
Unsure of where and how to touch.
Just how should your lips
Meet her cold and unfamiliar mouth piece?
Remember those first few notes
Screeching through space inside the band hall?
A sacred place where rhythm and note
Have coursed the air and touched
The smallest bones of the human body
With the softest and most pleasant caress.
Become familiar with the way she feels.
Close your eyes and feel the softness of her curves.
Treat her like a lady of royal blood.
Her father has given you her hand.
There is no leaving her at the altar.
You will decide your life together.
Love her. Caress her. Kiss her softly.
Learn to move your fingers and listen to her reply.
The early sound of surprise becomes the sound of love.
Soon, you breathe as one, and the voice you hear,
The voice we hear.
Is not hers. Is not yours. But, the union of both.
And what we hear is the birth of something
Grand and glorious and beautiful!
Play it!
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=t4C4YU5JtIo
Sisters
We've grown so much
But never apart
Best friends forever
You're half of my heart
You give me support
You always understand
Never stop reaching
For my lost, helpless hand
I've made some decisions
That I'm sure you don't approve
This world is utter chaos
Don't lose me in a groove
You're the light of my life
The answer to my prayer
A Sister's Sister
What more could we share?
THE RED OR BLACK ROSE
THE RED/BLACK ROSE
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If I a placid pond sit
Still my shallow grounds
Engulfed within the woods
Submerged and bound
Arrayed with ruby rings
Robed in brunette pearls
What jewel would justly paint
With brush my clearest tint
Wouldst any drown the drink
The tongue calls a quench
Cool and clear as white
Atop the moonlit sky
Or wouldst the treasuries' trees
Reveal arising clips depicting
Darkened depths entrenched
In deep demise
Doth God's glory glide
The ornamented floor
Moving mortal millions
To probe, dip, and dive
Beneath the brittle creek
In buried ocean mines
To touch and taste, then tell
Of seas the sands confine
If raids of floral floods
Could frame the fluid's face
As angels frame the figure
Of heaven's sovereign God
Then pluck the petaled stem
The prototyped rendition
Of red/darkened rose
Which colors my condition
~Poetra Jah~
I Think of You
Time quickly evaporates into a mist of translucent memories; I hold tightly and think of you
Grasping for one more image, a word, a touch; I fight to keep the moment alive and think of you
At last I yield to it's grip, my heart sighs
As ashes lie smothering the last breath of light, I think of you
My Kind
Born into a Euphoric state of mind.As the record's show there seem's to be no other's of my kind.I've traveled to this world in time to my new home from my shrine.I expect there to be no other's of my vast intelligence.But i do expect there to be opposing relavant's to my intelligence.
I show no fear because am an indestructable force.I will never be shown recourse.Just like i will never show remorse.I am a new life being i am just like you except for the fact that you are labeled a liar and i am labeled the truth.I attack the alphabet intentually.By myself individually.You cannot adress me of my kind.For i am the maker of my mind.I bring forth a new species for scientist's to study.
Athough i don't want them to study me but i will let them individually.My kind is my kind your mind is your mind.I travel faster then the speed of light.To My world colored in white.Godspeed and Goodnight.I am in my world covered in white.
I am a Whisper
I am a whisper
I am a warning
I am the Man in the Moon
I am a secret
I am a sinner
I am an ominous tune
I am a flicker
I am a failure
I am an unrealized dream
I am a poet
I am a patient
I am a suppressed scream
I am a burden
I am a bystander
I am a felonious battle
I am quiver
I am quandary
I am a curt death rattle
I am a mirage
I am a mantis
I am a silent imposition
I am a shadow
I am a shortcoming
I am a glaring omission
Epitaph, my ebook:
http://www.amazon.com/Epitaph-ebook/dp/B00CCFQ9XS/ref=pd_rhf_gw_p_t_2_TBDR
THE MONSTER
THE MONSTER
by Frank Halliwell
Jimboomba, Australia.
Public Domain.
In the northwest foothills of the mount
That's known as Tamborine,
When the evening mists swirl up
In a surrealistic scene,
The landscape writhes beneath the moon
And black-lined, scudding clouds,
And in the swamps, the tea-trees
Wear their foggy, dripping shrouds.
When the purple shadows lengthen
On the flanks of Tamborine,
And the bleak wind wails in lonely gums,
Then races on unseen,,,
The somber ribbet of the frogs,
The music of the night,
And suddenly a hunting owl
Glides by in silent flight.
Amid the high-pitched cricket sounds..
The lowing of a cow..
A hint of sound just past that dam,
The frogs fall silent now..
And even the cicadas cease
As if in deadly fear...
The world stands still...
There's not a sound..
A silence
you can
hear.
And then, a sobbing, strangled cry,
like someone sorely maimed..
The monster then, has struck again,
Another victim claimed.
It prowls around Maclean's bridge,
Verses dripping from it's jaws.
The locals live in terror
Of that huge voracious maw.
For years he's fed it bits of rhyme,
To whet it's appetite,
Then loosed it on a trusting world,
One dark and dreadful night.
The populace has vanished,
From this land of brave, bold men..
For Johnson's rhyming monster
Is upon the land again !!!
Dedicated to Don Johnson, of Nash road who must bear much of the responsibility for inflicting the monster on the world.
