Ideal's the emptiness amid stone scapes;
Invited souls - two dancers times enfold;
Invoke the past, rose thorns redraw its shapes
the years sustain recalls of feelings' mold.
Recite old scripts - the weather's voice is cold,
an audience of ghosts their steps extol
the shrines remember them on timeless role,
Adventive cadence is their final goal.
Consorted on the broken glass, they bleed
their lives ascended amid rains of red
maintained and held their words, old ends impede
somehow the birds forgot to sing and fled.
The runnel wraiths of emptiness out-traced
existences' odd trails and righteous shed
where acquaintances devoid embraced
- their solitude; and in the woods winds fled.
Rose-feverish their tips caress time's strings;
and dithered silence shines her splendid glow,
lone glances coil on tungsten glowing rings,
and abstinent redraw - their tears redraw.
© 02-24-2013, G. Venetopoulos, All rights reserved
(Surreal - Elegy)
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.
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.
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
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.
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
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.
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.