“It’s a terrible love
And I’m walking with spiders…
It’s a terrible love and I’m walking in
Its quiet company…”-Birdy
Three long claws enclosed around a lone beating heart
Stone talons gripping in happy malice, silently angry by its pulse it cannot feel…
The longer I stare into the hollow sockets seeing only ugliness,
The easier it becomes to break into pieces over the mere thought of you
I thought it was a dull beat- a throbbing, fading beat disappearing into the night…
Though your image, once so grainy, is becoming clearer and clearer in the fogs of my consciousness
I thought it was just a dull, callous beat…
But the more it throbs against the stone, the more the stone cracks
The more the demon cries in anguish…the more I fall
So deeply in love have I become,
I can barely breathe in this misty embrace
The suspense of your blows make my innards whimper…make my mind shiver
My tearful eyes cry for your assurance
My body changes through the peeks of your light
It is all a joke!
This is all pathetic, low, meaningless!
Surely these claws over this heart do not exist
Holding onto nothing but dead spiders who once weaved miracles
Dust and spider legs….spider eyes…they had seen so much…felt so much with their prickly appendages
Through a lovely peephole beyond the three stoned fingers…
I see the entire world where they must have crawled
A world holding you…
If only I could hold you too…
Something tells me I would never let go if I had the chance
Something tells me I would crush you
I would turn you into dust and spider legs…
And yes, as all demons enjoy, I would lose you
In the grip of the three stoned fingers
You were that heart I thought I had seen…
The heart that continued to beat long after it was ripped out
The clenched heart that throbbed despite its crushing cage
The very heart that bled and bled for no body and all for the sake of love
Beating and beating, cracking those frigid fingers
And all of the fallen limbless creatures would gather round…
And they would tell me… “He lives yet still…”
Weaving in their webs the very bloods and salts you pumped
Within me…and beyond me
Dead spiders weave and weave and weave…
And unlike human hearts, their ideas never tire
I’ll only write the truth
I have always wrote my poems
To please the eyes of others
I’ve wrote those songs of nature
I have wrote about my lover
I have always wanted comments
So I’d write words oh so sweet
But this is only half of me
And I want to be complete.
So now I write only the truth
And how I really feel
It’s all that now shall come from me
I’ll show folk what is real
I’ll write on my philosophy
And really give folk me
Unless the truth is spoken
How can a man be free.
I see the writings on this site
About religions, and beliefs
And I feel that I must do the same
Even though I bring on grief
I’ll miss out on the comments
But do I really care?
For I am here, to speak the truth
A thing that’s very rare.
12 January 2014 @ 0625hrs
Forgotten thoughts resurface like the dim light of the stars
seeping from the wounds that sit on shelves in broken jars
never to be mended in the tattered threads I've weaved
knotted in the fabric of the falsehoods I believed
to bind me in the cobalt tide that no one vessel keeps
what seems are dreams for some of you are nightmares while I sleep.
Proudly they parade in gaudy colors crimson laced
radiating fiercly from the fears I haven't faced
crashing as the seas of sorrow wash the taste of pain
out of my mouth as I turn south where nothing left remains
but scattered, dusty memories and used up yesterdays
and scars that last from days gone past in hues of blacks and greys.
Berty Beaver, he was quiet
He never said too much
Yet Molly, Berty’s little wife
She mouthed off just a touch
She’d always threw her weight around
And poor old Tiny Tim
He got a slap most every day
And times his days felt grim
Molly, well she was his mum
And though she loved him so
She always had to nag someone
And give them a cuff or blow
Tim became a poor young man
And shrunk from every one
And as the bully’s hung around
More evil did get done
His mum she says ‘now that’s not on
They don’t do this to my son!’
And she goes running to the school
Oh, she’s an angry one
She glares the teacher up and down
And lets her know who’s boss
Teachers try hard to placate her
Though, they only suffer loss.
Then Tiny Tim, comes running in
And says right to his mum
[Frustration snatching fear away
No more his mouth hangs numb]
‘Look Mum, at what you always do!!!’
He says with voice stern
‘If you’re a bully too, then how
Will us kids ever learn.
28 June 2013 @ 1727hrs.
Like Frankenstein, I, too, am loathed to death;
I walk this earth devoid of friend and hearth,--
devoid of joy from the time of my birth
and from the first draw of my infant's breath.
An outcast and a pariah among
the friended, I exist without the mirth
and glee of those born of happier worth,
esteem and prize,--O would that I belong!
Still, I am loved of my dear family
and most loved friends, my books, and by my God
and e'en by my most oft-read poetry.
These things I cherish, honor, and must laud
with gratitude and thanks religiously
and be content as worms in a blesséd sod.
Our planet Earth
If one took the human form
And drained it thoroughly
Took all the minerals and Oils
Well what then would he, be?
He would be dead, I tell you this
And yet our planet Earth
With each new day that comes along
They drain her of her worth.
But don’t they know, these human fools
Without these things she needs
She suffers through a million ills
She’s just like you and me
And too soon she’s going to die
And why will this be so
Because we’ve slowly strangled her
And taken all her glow.
How shortsighted is mankind
Why can’t he see at all
That everything is really one
And he is but a fool
Slowly committing suicide
Oh what a shame this be
If he slowed down a tiny bit
Earths beauty he would see.
25 July 2013 @ 1034hrs.
What Is This Church All About?
Is this church meant for people like me?
Is this where God really wants me to be?
They claim to be filled with God’s spirit.
When it comes to HIS truth... Can they give it?
I’m sure there’s many who come and attend
It’s more than “church on Sunday,” that we must spend!
We must reach out to the lost and the oppressed!
After all, Christ gave us his very best!
May we all preach the gospel and God’s holiness!
And strive to seek his awesome righteousness!
Living for Jesus must be a daily walk and experience!
Not simply based on our “ambitious self appearance.”
God isn’t interested in a denomination or a title…
He wants to know… Do we really believe the Bible?
He’s not interested in the money put in the offering plate.
He wants to know; “Are you ready
to enter heaven’s gate?”
May we strive to serve Jesus with a zeal and passion!
And be filled with his holiness and compassion!
May we serve Jesus from a heart of humbled confession!
And making our commitment to him,
our #1 possession!
“Unless the Lord builds the house.”
They labor in vain that build it!
Let’s seek the power of God!
May his presence completely fill it!!
By Jim Pemberton
I do not know?
Oh say can I see
By the big florescent lights
Once so proudly now has fell
Fell into reality?
Fell into right?
Fell into a time where there should have never been a fight!!
With ’In God We Trust ' printed on every dollar.
But God got kicked out so Columbine became the shocker.
But was it also ' In God We Trust ' when we failed to see nothing but color?
With the hoses put down,
and Dr King no longer around,
is ‘The Dream’ still being reached?
Is it a sign that the first homes we see
are no longer a possibility?
When the Towers came down,
we were 'United we Stand'
But when gas prices rose it was,
“You're on your own, man!”
‘A penny saved is a penny earned,’
is from the man that first helped us try to learn.
But when we stopped asking what our country can do for us,
is that the time when the table turned?
Now that Rosa will no longer be on the bus,
I wonder who will now take that seat for all of us.
With Miss America in the cast,
when will we ever see Miss Disability last?
What happened to the times of ‘I am not a crook’,
it took a back seat to the Man who wrote the Book.
And the rockets red glare,
with bombs still bursting in the air,
is it wrong to fight for the night
when our children’s children will still be there.
Because tears are meant
To be a symbol of strength
Even in hard days.
P aranoia permeates, etching itself into your fractured face,
A cacophony of constant pressure; life remains a stressful race,
N othing to hope for, no positives like promotion in the workplace,
I nability to love, relationships lift anchor and set sail without chase,
C hildren crushing dreams under mortgages; age grows with disgrace
Let the Deicide commence.
You're a voyeur at best!
Your vampiric heart is beating out of your chest!
And you have slayed the ones whom would love you for anything less
Ready to consume the final fragments of innocence,
And for you there is no forgiveness,
On your knees pleading, screaming to a tyrant in the skies;
The father of lies.
I will never be enslaved in your superiority
The people agree: jaded of your false dichotomies.
Know: I will be whomever nature intends to be
Apollo and I will share our dreams,
and you will be forced to see
I know who you are...
Readily the first to present your scars
Chained by some despot or mental czar
An emotional homunculus in your mind, behind bars
Reluctant to escape - even when proven fake
Your demented mind - depths no one will penetrate!
...And you see me suffering
Not caring of any casualties
Just as long you recieve your safeguard of sympathy
So very wary of the masses and their Anarchy; Liberious ways
Solipsist - Is there no one you can see?
Even if she was presented burning?
Solipsist - Is there no one you can believe?
Even if Sophia was screaming?
Solipsist - Know you have killed and abused me
Imprisoned in your own personal reality
You are one of the reasons
Why they inflate their quote
If you had seized the seasons
Good men could have had your vote
You are one of the reasons
Why our sweet land has gone sour in waste
Here is one of your multiple treasons
You aid corruption just to suit your taste
You are one of the reasons we wedge weighty wrath
Bombs daily detonate like fickle fireworks far north
You decided to do nothing but shut your mouth
So they took our weary sail south
You are one of the reasons the land is inflicted with rape
Overflowing in abundance yet you mong like a greedy ape
Alas our land is grey and old but not due
And it hurts me to know that I am also you.
One beautiful lie , an unvoiced sonnet
Words veiled with a crime that steals my hearts last beat
Slow turn of your mood shows me disquiet
With kisses warm and vulgar with deceit.
One pulse stills, our love was not the one love,
Just remains of a lukewarm cup of tea.
You steep and brood, one pineing the lost dove.
My broken wing lame, I fall into the sea.
Beautiful lies, my heart begs for your fires
To hear the words forged my way by anvil
Beautiful lies, hope grows dim and expires
Waiting for judgment by divine gavel
Tremble my lips , tears fall dry from my eyes
Protect me from madness, beautiful lies.
They are bound to the Earth like trees
Suffocating under the weight of an icy grave
Reaching to be free, but only their limbs are seen
Hoping that one day someone will see:
They can't escape with lacerated wings
The ocean surrounds me, covering everything
Nothing will be clearly seen; confusion overwhelming
No-one can save you, you're on your own, left to die
Manipulating every bleeding heart you can find
I can't escape with lacerated wings.
Swarms of nets, waves of screams
Entangle: your captive illusions and dreams
The mask has be seared - The truth now they see
The Liar - Vampiric Fiend; lowly thief
And now they know you can't escape with Lacerated Wings
There's reasons for your rejections:
Your Heavy heart's transferred oppression
The scars are too deep to pass the trials
But you can find peace in your cage of empty spirals
You Cannot Escape With Lacerated Wings
Man's Corruption... God's Redemption!
The Bible speaks of man's sin and corruption.
That's why God has offered us, his redemption!
The heart is desperately wicked above all things.
There's an evil corruption that sin brings!
The Lord searches our heart and tests our ways.
He watches our lives, all of our days!
There's nothing good in ourselves.
Not now, or ever!
Without God's mercy...
We're doomed forever!
But, through Christ, there's a way and a plan!
He made this available to every woman and man!
His gift of salvation is a message of love, made clear!
The coming of Jesus Christ,
draws ever so near!
We can trade our sinful corruption,
for a new way of living!
Won't you come before the Lord,
with a heart of giving?
Giving our life to Jesus,
is the best thing to do!
By his power and grace, you can be
made BRAND NEW!
I'm thankful for his salvation!
Mercy has been applied!
Because of Christ' death on the cross…
I'm now sanctified!
By Jim Pemberton
A thorough yield
On a farm field of far east
It took me time to realize
How far I am to my far east of coast
Call of my weather
Call of my winds
I sailed further and farther
To my naked coasts
Naive songs, Nimble rains
Nile of rivers, Nascent clouds
Reaching this far
I kissed my earth
Ground of my grief
Glory of my ghosts
Glad is those leaves
However scanty they are
Cast is my shadows
No longer they hide
My colors and my figures
They cast numbers on stars
Measure their light
Scope my winters
Scale my summers
Scanty my rains
Scuttle I wish my springs
Now let me see my greens
Their leveling heights
Their leafy gaze
Their spiderly gesture
Their primordial texture
Now let me be slow
In company of my greens
#Poem by +Gokul Alex
Where were you when my world fell apart?
The Sun darkened and the Moon just fled.
All had been done and all had been said.
And ripped to shreds was my beating heart.
Even the Seas began to part.
And the Mountain tops spread.
I lay there completely dead.
Even the Stars I could not chart.
If only you knew,
If only you were there,
If only you had a clue!
If only life had been fair!
I’d turn the clocks back,
Still standing dead in my track!
I do not know?
(for the countless women, names unknown, who bore the brunt of Apartheid, and who fought the racist system at great cost to themselves and their families, and for my mother, Zubeida Moolla)
Pregnant, your husband on the run,
your daughter, a child, a few years old,
they hauled you in, these brutish men,
into the bowels of Apartheid's racist hell.
They wanted information, you gave them nothing,
these savage men, who skin happened to be lighter,
and white was right in South Africa back then,
but, you did not cower, you stood resolute,
you, my mother, faced them down, their power,
their 'racial superiority', their taunts, their threats.
You, my mother, would not, could not break,
You stood firm, you stood tall.
You, like the countless mothers did not break, did not fall.
You told me many things, of the pains, the struggles,
the scraping for scraps, the desolation of separation
from your beloved Tasneem and your beloved Azad,
my elder sister and brother, whom I could not grow
up with, your beloved children separated by time, by place,
by monstrous Apartheid, by brutish men,
whose skin just happened to be lighter.
You told me many things, as I grew older,
of the years in exile, of the winters that grew ever colder.
You were a fighter, for a just cause,
like countless other South African women,
you sacrificed much, you suffered the pangs,
of memories that cut into your bone, your marrow,
you resisted a system, an ideology, brutal and callous and narrow.
Yes, you lived to see freedom arrive, yet you suffered still,
a family torn apart, and struggling to rebuild a life,
all the while, nursing a void, that nothing could ever fill.
I salute you, mother, as I salute the nameless mothers,
the countless sisters, daughters, women of this land,
who fought, sacrificing it all for taking a moral stand.
I salute you, my mother, and though you have passed,
your body interred in your beloved South African soil,
you shall remain, within me, an ever-present reminder,
of the cost of freedom, the struggles, the hunger, the toil.
I salute you!
(for the brave women of South Africa, of all colours,
who fought against racial discrimination and Apartheid)
Who am I?
W-eaned from tender
age,in noble family of ten.
H-urt by the demise of
the tube that brought
me into this theater of
struggles and pains.
O-rdered about by the
whimps of this
world,facing the hurdles
of life daily from
cradle,never giving up
A-fine young man of 28
I am,who has the
experience and wisdom
of the aged.
M-astering the arts of
life-learning from lessons
of life's victims and
didactic poems 'cos man
of fame I intend to be for
I bear the name Bob.
I-lost my poetic gift at a
stage but recovered it in
poetrysoup for invisible
entities say a
lesser being I shall be,but
another encourages me
to move on,for great is
one who comes out of
the shackles of life
undeterred for this is who
Name: Ifeanyi Bob
They praise me like a saint,
But I am a sinner;
They don't know the man they see.
I am an addict.
Broken eyes to pornography,
Only Jesus can set me free.
Only by His death on the cross
And the grace of His Father's love
Am I able to be set free.
With God as The Light,
The One and Only Light,
The Only Hope in sight,
Will I be set free.
I am free.
I do not know?
Give me drink, rest, and solitude--
these are all the things I long for.
Give me as well your finest food
and I'll ask of you, lass, no more!
My bonnie lass, what's the matter--
why are you all sorry and alone?
Don't be sad because you're fatter
than most, lass, for love loves its own.
Sweet lass, I'll tell you a secret.
If I were a young lad again,
I'd pursue you without regret!
But as I am three-score and ten
years old, indeed, I can never
be the youthful lad you most need.
But your pain won't be for ever:
for your heart will refuse to bleed.
She thought that he’s charming
Her friends says he is so cute
But little did they know
It’s the furthest from the truth
Her mom buys her a new dress
Because he ask her to the prom
But during the fun and laughter
He spikes her punch with rum
She wakes up in his BMW
He,s smiling with a cigarette
A morning she will remember
A night to forget
She can’t stop crying
She lies on her bed
Feeling hurt and disgusted
Suicide thoughts comes to her head
Her mom notice the changes
But she don’t know what is wrong
She use to sing in the church choir
The preacher says she stops coming around
She hugs her mother last night
Then walks out the door alone
And its now early morning
She didn’t come back home
She jumps over the bridge
They pull her body soaking wet
She couldn’t live with the memory
Of the night she can’t forget
It’s sad that her young life was ruin
By the evil that lays hidden behind a smile
Her mother life is shattered
Never knowing what happen to her child
This is happening to innocent girls
All over the world
Taking away their dignity and pride
Sucking the life out of their very soul
Another girl sits under a tree
Reading a book of poem by kaz ishmael
He said “excuse me just got to say
That you have a beautiful smile
She brushes her long hair
Think her jeans didn’t fit to right
His BMW is waiting out side
They are going to movies tonight
Overwhelmed with fear I whispered into the rain
Disarming defenses, Giving in to the gray
Tearing down all of my shelter within my hollowed decay
While this echoing silence gave every tear drop a name
They begin filling the voids with mundane hopes for a change
Heaven will save me from this hell and blue skies will reign
Lazily lay in green grass watching clouds drift away
It's all but a deflated dream now that the colors have changed
My thoughts have become restless noise of uncertainties rearranged
Damning all of my emotions, lies decorated with grace
Now I stand with a hardened heart in the sobering autumn rain
I'm disarmed and defenseless, Giving in to the gray
I do not know?
when you're fast asleep
and thoughts creep into your head
and flood your brain until it weeps
and your mind descends dark and deep
into a land of dead end worlds
where the only way out
is the way you came in
but the road is way too steep
and your feet are made of lead
and every smile is just pretend
and nothing is to be believed
and you're going off the deep end
bleeding rivers of hatred
into a pool of shallow deceit
where every thought is colored red
and every shade of black completes
every nightmare ever conceived
born of blood-stained dreams within dreams
where that person you used to be
is falling into skies of silent screams
and contemplating death
all the while wishing
to be alive again
They say you'll never really know
What prison is like until you've actually been there
When your mind betrays like Judas every
Logical thought that runs through your head
When solitary confinement becomes voluntary
When the only thing you truly seek out of life is
To be free from regret which can weigh you down
More than ball and chain
When it doesn't really matter
How sorry you are for mistakes
You may have made in the past
Because redemption is nowhere in sight
When eagerly you wait for loved ones to arrive
But no one pays you a visit
When surrounded by crowds of people
Who claim to be trustworthy, but can't wait for you
To turn your back so that they can F--- you up the A--
When thoughts of death
Sing like song, your favorite lullaby
You know you've been there
In more ways than one
into the distance of the days,
of those gone and of those yet to come --
he touches no one,
is touched by no one.
Yet noisy commerce
around him flows, constant movement;
but movement without a change of place,
no progress forward, no backward retreat --
an illusion of movement, only.
He sees youths --
with no sense of self --
and leathery crones,
no place to go,
assailed by noises --
a repetitious assault
upon the ear and air.
Still he sits,
in frozen semi-trance,
staring always inward,
but also into distance,
sentient and inert.
Oh lonely Inevitable Bear,
Padding claws, death in white
Sorrow in recurring nightmare
Instinct’s test; fight or flight?
Camouflage against the fence,
A challenge; my subconscious fear
Ominous slowly moving silence,
“Let me in, there’s a bear out here!”
As sin and perversion often
So many lives and families
are being “disintegrated.”
Many are being driven by sin’s temptation force…
It’s no wonder much of this country
is way “off course.”
The morality and values that once made a great nation.
Are evaporating…. Leading to a
Love, honor, and respect of God…
Is often a “thing of the past.”
Anything of God seems to be
God is our only hope! And him alone!
Only he can bring healing to our broken homes!
He’s the answer to this wounded nation, that bleeds!
It’s only God that can meet all of our needs!
He’s our provider… The great: “I am!”
Won’t you reach out to him?
And give him your hand?
Why not give him a chance? And allow him in?
A brand new life for you…
Is waiting to begin!
May we allow God’s holiness and love to reach
down into our hearts…
Asking; “Lord please forgive our sins!”
Is a good place to start!
By Jim Pemberton
The Black butterfly waves away her adorations
All she seeks is seclusion, subsuming slave to mortification
The Dear Air is all she can breath, captive of imaginary dreams
The Beacon resonates, but the hope isolates
The Wasteland's silky fingers caressing the virgin's face
So she is now, the covet of the damned
Programmed to every victim's pain
Carrying the weight of every sorrow
Drowning in wrongs she does not know
But paradise is at loss; she must go
Nature sighs after the bite
All my hopes fading
Don't look at me with those sorrowful eyes
How do you know exactly what I'm feeling?
I'm just the ghost flower passing by
And you can hear nature's sigh
Hark! It is he!
A slate face; devoid!
Mechanical, computing, sleepless.
No! Just human!
Turning, just turning!
He will not fall, now expressionless.
The dark gazeth!
Yet, he wont gaze back!
Four days, sleepless, faceless, for all!
His face is stone.
No care, there's no care!
Persist amidst all of the loss.
It is but he!
designed to be.
It is but he!
Shrug the abyss,
he will nev'r fail;
designed to be.
Shrug the abyss.
Through it all,
he leaveth none for all!
To see the end of it all,
the completion of it all!
None but all.
Four days sleepless,
it is none but he!
Faceless, breathless, mechanized.
Look! See him now!
With bags under eyes.
See him now, the man with no face.
It is he,
Be it so! Be it so!
To see the end of it;
the destruction of it all!
It is he.