Person of colour is coherently germane,
He is never insane.
Some things about this person of colour may seem strange,
He is simple and he is yet to engage.
This person of colour loves the critics,
It is from them, he ticks.
This person of colour is natural,
And so, he is not a trial.
This person of colour loves to exchange
Ideas beyond his range.
This person of colour loves keyboard,
Tis with this he comes on board.
This person of colour is a charcoal- a black beauty.
This person of colour is me.
They ask me why I’m so happy
Asking me, if I just won a prize
I replied, well I reckon I did
Today is a wonderful surprise
When you have a past like mine
My today is always bright
There is no better feeling on earth
Than the joy of doing right
I may be an old man on a cane
My heart is skipping along
I learned to embrace the meaning
Life is a beautiful song
True life has its ups and downs
There’ll be forks in the road
With a smile I’ll stop for a while
Help you with your load
I had me a bag of popcorn today
It tasted exceptionally good
In fact, I will go as far as to say
Better then it probably should
For years, I had a guard in the pen
Popped him a bag each night
Then he would simply throw it away
His twisted little delight
He knew, it was those little things
Ate at our heart and soul
Movie with the wife Friday night
Popcorn in the bowl
I had a bag of popcorn today
Wife sitting at my side
I had a smile, which lasted awhile
One I could not hide
They ask me why I’m so happy
Asking me, if I won a prize
I replied, I reckon I did
Today is a wonderful surprise
For some reason today I was thinking about C.O. Talbert and
how he would pop a bag of popcorn even though he didn't eat
popcorn. He did it just because he knew it would make everyone
want some. I always felt sorry for him. His life must have been
very disappointing. The moral here: when you learn to appreciate
the little things in life your popcorn will taste a whole lot better.
The flying sent projections free to see,
from adjunct Astrals singing bold decree.
Perched on Pisces’s cusp, forsaking Plato’s cave,
Puppets casting shadows, chancing me a slave.
They hang from dreams of higher forms, allures
Contempt in self when loving carnal cores.
Haunted by women’s passions kept in Spirits,
Dawns my sleeping stages now inherits
Marionettes aloft eternal twists
of spinning truths with lies recalling trysts.
Killing prone volitions, changing essence.
Chosen starlight’s beings guiding presence.
Upon a love in purest form demands,
Forgotten suicides of ego strands.
Risking Pirsig’s fate in Zen and journey,
Waging sanity, a bounty worthy.
The stringing of my soul and bracing seeks,
A pulling truth beyond this death it speaks.
Alternating stanzas of iambic and trochaic pentameter
You and I would make a terrific poetic pair
Yours all flow free with so much care
Some say an Artistic poet I have become
Jerk then smooth out and hum along.
You to me are like a Robert Frost
While I in my imagination am lost
Being daring yet avoiding a crash
And enjoy humor of Ogden Nash.
Will Rogers is last one I longingly like
Can you imagine if in front of a mike
How impressive he would have been
Through the thick with all of the thin.
So Andrea Dietrich what do you think?
In my poems, help me work out each kink
So mine also for long time each endures
And some day too will be just like yours.
Previous Poems Protruded
Two previous poems protruded from my mind
Then to many more facts I became resigned
What I had looked for often and found
Is much happiness in those all around.
Lack of love was leading cause of insanity
And it has always been known to all humanity
When it is only my poems which you prefer
This could be know to cause and create a stir.
Poems from God were granted with gratitude
On some parts of bodies have been tattooed
Like good weather which they are forecasting
My poems are appreciated and also everlasting.
With a great memory possessed by your mind
Would you my beloved friend be so kind
After killing and insanity is brought to a halt
Kindly with much pleasure, please pass the salt.
Does this remind you of one of those seagoing movies?
It was something about ten items in the Bible which I
often have a hard time mastering. Jim Horn
Ream After Ream
What I have written was ream after ream
Of good poems which I rated as supreme
Of such great quality could hardly find
In any imagination of a normal mind.
When I wrote this it was at midnight
After sleeping tow hours with all my might
Suddenly I awoke and each poem was there
Appearing incredible and beyond compare.
Many can't make any sense of them at all
And to others are outrageous or may appall
While I wondered how much effort it took
To arrange poems so they could become a book.
Was struck by awe while my eyes opened wide
My new poems did come out from deep inside
Me, myself and as hard as I definitely did try
Wanted to complete poems before I would die.
For writing my poems, I have this great thirst
And even if it is for better or absolute worst
Every day I keep trying to pave the way
For nice things about my poems thou shalt say.
James Thomas Horn
(Only considered to be
a Viet Nam Era Vet.)
PS. Birth of new ideas.
The paper lay flat
on a low reading table,
yet thick in it's pages,
a days worth of fable.
Our library bright with it's
rays to it's sills
and the paper bleached white
with a grey side of gills.
It's HEADLINE in blue
relaxing your eyes.
Large print making stories
seem simpler than size.
Text in black letters;
dragged out into words.
Knowledge you crave for.
Ideas in herds.
News from a paper
pressed for attention.
Left on a table
as though for detention.
What is a dream
if not reality's conceit?
What is reality
if not a shadowy deceit?
The dream circle was unsealed
when we were born
aut dream-time filled our lives
from night to early morn.
The circle grew ever wider
in our youthful days of yore
with unbounded dreams of glory
on some far distant shore.
But then the circle tightens
when our days near to a close.
Dreams replace ambitions
as one's mortal body slows.
So our dreams in poems we'll write
hence when we disappear,
we'll leave our mark in some small way
to show that we were here.
And in some far off time we hope
someone will read our verse
and a dream that was a part of us
will shake the universe.
All the little bunnies were lined up for a race. Why, you may ask?
Because the dear old Leader Bunny was stepping down with grace.
He had led the others for years without disgrace, in all pursuits.
He was their advisor, friend, and confidant... solver of disputes.
Such a lofty position was dearly sought by all…from all around.
But he could pick only one to wear that lofty, wonderful crown.
So a race was determined to quickly resolve, the question therein.
And a lovely little laurel crown was offered, to the one who did win.
Now many strategies to win emerged from within the race.
The most common was the notion to set the fastest pace…
A few would use tricks that might hurt, in order to slow others down.
A few were mean, for they wanted the power that comes with the crown.
Two were clever and would catapult each other at the very end.
A few just practiced running to gain the added stamina needed to win.
Only one little rabbit found shoes for the poor, for it was a rocky trail.
And when the race began he helped those hurt in the prevail.
Now the dear old leader had never actually worn a laurel crown.
His had been symbolic; his works had brought him his renown.
When the Leader Bunny gave the laurel crown to he who won the race…
Only a few were surprised, when the little helper won the Leader’s grace…
Though some would go on to complain because he had come in last…
It truly takes someone who knows how to serve, to lead and guide the rest.
But my moral to this story is that…. Regardless what some may think…
It takes compassion to correctly lead…and sometimes the last can be the best…
I shivered and watched him as the snow fell
Frail, tattered clothes, bearded, no shoes, but--smell!
I thought--what a contrast--comparing sights,
But love was a lesson I'd learn that night!
Not from plastic steeples or rhetoric,
Philanthropy or emotional trick...
I would learn to look in my own mirror
For compassion, mercy, empathy--clearer.
This complex multiple of nature lives
In dying daily to Ego-------Forgives!
Then I saw neither black, white, red nor green,
But only insolence and heard him scream:
"Get away from us! You Freak! Reprobate!"
Then with his cane, knocked him down--oh such hate!
Top hat and tails perched with pride by the door
Assisting the dilatant he adored.
Snow was a gossamer curtain all 'round.
Vision obscured even steps on the ground.
Lights came from nowhere as they crossed the street,
Aimed for the dilatant--innocent, sweet.
Watching I saw from the shadows immerge
Sprinting like 'Coldstream Guard'--out past the curb,
That same man, pushing the dilatant fair
Out of harms way as he flew in mid-air.
Emerging unscathed from the ice and snow:
"Who was that man? Tell me! I want to know!"
The crowd huddled 'round like a football team
Gawking with questions of what they had seen.
A donor card was his only ID.
No name--just a wish--was all they could see.
Donor card cashed in...Science and query...
A grave in an obscure cemetery,
With small unadorned head-marker amends:
"Greater love has no man than this, that he lay down his life for his friends."
*For Michael's "No Names on This Love Contest"
Some lives are like a stone quickly skipping over the ponds top, forever tossed.
My life is below the surface trying to reach upward with each breathe lost.
But there is still beauty, deep down here in the great depths below…
For the solitude holds me in its grip as I dwell with what I know.
My occasional trips to the surface leave me vastly wanting more…
Still, my life below the surface doesn’t scare me as it did, once before.
And the breaths will come when given, as my life continues to flow.
True it is dark but beauty lingers, everywhere the currents move below.
At times, the surface reflections seem surreal, as if it’s a place not to go.
Comfort comes more and more to my soul, as the deeper I glide below.
Here I dwell within myself, with words, and thoughts, that carry me along.
Perhaps I have found where I truly belong, as I sing my siren songs.
"THE whole truth and nothing but the truth"
I have never failed or cheated, on any test I took.
Though I have taken best guesses upon one look,
I know I was a nerd, I read everything in every book.
Maybe that is why now reading is not part of my nook.
Poetry is the only thing I can handle by hook or crook.
I would have to read a recipe if I was going to cook.
Maybe there was one test that I almost failed, I took.
It would have been English, which I passed in a rook.
Now the only thing mostly I read is a manual book.
Except for poetry, which I read out loud, upon my first look,
Not that I am very smart, I guess luck is what I took.
Truth is, if it were not for luck, I would be a closed book.
this was my quest:
Cecilia, how about a truthful question!!!! have you ever totally flunked out on a test, or cheated on a test... I want the whole truth and nothing but the truth, in a poetic way... p.s... make your answer fun as can be... I think limericks, or couplets would do your question perfct..always..pd
When the sun has set like a ball of fire
colors like a funeral pyre
crescent moon in deep blue sky
indigo blue that sears the eye
crickets start their monotonous beat
praying in the sultry heat
hand in hand and heart to heart
infants waken with a start
old man takes his dying breath
soul escapes his body's death
spiders cross doorways with their web
a work of art so filled with dread
the rapping on the midnight door
the ghost who's there was here before
a child cries out, a nightmare dreamed
realities blur and rip the seams
what may appear as solid fusion
is just an agreed upon illusion.
Do you ever think of tomorrow and wish you had a glance?
Tell me if you had a crystal ball would you take a chance?
Do you ever think of yesterday, a song you used to sing?
Embracing all the memories, joy and pain they would bring
In the space of your today, up underneath your skin
Do you find a certain comfort the one that’s born with-in?
There was a time in my life I really couldn’t stand myself
I was so confused as to what a man should hold as wealth
Every life has a turning point as it teeters to and fro
And sometimes it is very hard to know which way to go
There is no way to excuse the choices that I have made
And I’m the one who is to blame for prices I have paid
There is nobody else to blame for the things I’ve done
It was of my free will I chose, not to follow the chosen one
I rode with demons as they laughed and watched the angels cry
Never even once second-guessing or asking myself why
And I used to be a liar I would lie all the time
Was no end to the excuses come out of these lips of mine
But that was many years ago I’m not that man today
You see I found the Lord and got down on my knees to pray
I said, Lord as you know I’ve wasted every bit of my youth
Today what I’m asking of you Lord, please grant me the gift of truth
I figured truth and honesty would be a good place to start
To try and better understand how the bless the human heart
I quickly learned a lesson, a lesson of untold wealth
The trick to being honest is being honest with yourself
For if your honest with yourself to another you can’t lie
And if you just confess everything you have no reason why
My methods may not always appease but know these words are true
Honesty is the motivating factor behind everything I do
And everybody knows it they don’t even question why
They know I would have lied about myself if I were going to lie
And the reason that I know this I’m very proud to say
Is by the comments left to me just the other day
I just wanted thank everyone for their supportive
comments the other day. You have became such
an important part of my day I would be lost with
out you guys, God bless, MJ
It is not what I see but how I feel
It is through expression that bad times heal
Not true for all but certainly for me
We can not forge someone we were never meant to be
Moving a rock that will never budge
He did not put me in any position to ever judge
Our path is our own
In company or alone
There is or there isn’t that’s is your choice
Ignorance will never drown your voice
You will find your way just as it was meant to be
This is the Gospel according to me
The dead and all they own lie in their box alone
Covered by sod under the grass beneath their cold gray stones.
As they lie in the endless dark rotten of meat and bone,
Free of pain and hate and greed their spirit forever gone.
I ask if the dead are lonely? Do their ghostly spirits roam?
Do some dance in glory before the Master's throne?
Why do we rail our graveyards? Dead can neither walk or run.
While the living find no reason to never again see the sun.
There seem so many among us rotten of spirit and soul
I pray for them to find their way before their spirits go.
For when the box lid slams there is naught left to chance.
The sharpness of one's faith will punch a ticket for the dance.
How often do you visit the Library? And what do you see?
I see oceans and seas of books plus a homeless man doing zzz’s..
He’d apparently been reading before, he fell deep asleep.
He can stay there, they say, as long as he doesn’t lie down to sleep.
Sitting up is OK and of course, as long as he doesn’t create a scene.
He’s kind and gracious and a little strange but can debate any role
When he walked over, we had a talk about the devil verses mind control.
Without asking, what he really wanted was someone to buy him lunch.
There’s a McDonalds two doors down from where we were bunched.
I don’t know what I expected when he woke up and looked around.
But when I asked if he was homeless he wasn’t fazed at all.
Yes, I have been for a while, he said, but my boat will soon come in.
And I realized the library is a warm, safe place to relax and to be.
And the librarians seem content to just let him be.
In the end, I was sorry I couldn’t buy him that lunch.
But recently, my abilities to do so had become a little stretched.
I used to buy the books I read… now the library is more my taste.
I just hope if it comes to that… he’ll graciously share this place.
The library even has computers from where you could write.
And the people there are varied and really rather kind.
I’m on the edge but whole family’s once prosperous are already there.
Cheap hotel rooms in even cheaper hotels, once skirted are full.
The jobs don’t pay for anything more. They are: Bitter, Disgruntled, Lost.
Needed are better and more jobs to re-establish the American Dream.
To give them some hope so they can go back there again…
And don’t just act toward them… like they’re your library man…
Give them back their American Dream as best you can.
Voice of Reason Contest
Looking at the Milky Way, I know I am far,
far from the high way, I left and you are.
I, for once should have known, the ride and the drift,
cause by what you have shown, be no voyage so swift.
Now that I could touch the dazzling stars you gaze,
should I paint a nebular without the scars of your face?
With a stargazer shining through your hair,
that waves across the universe blown by air.
My senses frozen, my soul feather light,
I feel slow motion, swimming in aurora at night.
Gently thinking, how shall I do it right
to rise knowing, I am your white knight.
When all the black holes vanish or die,
should I unfreeze my senses and fly,
to earth you never said me goodbye,
and show you what I painted in the sky.
Gazing on the meadow, glowing all a bright with flowers,
I fail to see a blossom wasn’t nurtured by spring showers.
Colors envelop this small world, and none the better be.
We all behold the beauty, as far as eyes can see.
But, for some ugly reason, as some glare upon this planet,
They try to conjure reasons why God placed some people on it.
Let me cut right to the chase, each and every human face
Has a right to their own place, as flowers of the human race.
No valentine on Valentine's.
I haven't met one yet.
Each year I wait another
for a person I've not met.
There's nothing I've done wrong:
yet waiting is in vain.
And all that's left is hope
that love's a ball and chain.
All we are is all we are meant to be.
The sooner you stop wanting more, the happier you will be.
Always pulling rabbits
From the bottom of my hat,
Always looking forwards,
Never looking back.
Like to keep you laughing,
Laughing through the night,
Keeps our broken hearts at bay,
Hidden from the light.
more of my poems at: http://labyrinthoflies.com
Why should I care if sharing my truth causes offense?
In a world of shadow, is it not the one worthwhile defense?
For the Couplets Contest.
True joy is to hold a newborn child
Their God's gift to make you smile
you'll never find more earthly worth
then two souls joining who give birth
Grandpa's pride and Grandma's idle
for these new parents it's their child
To hold, love, teach, nurture and guide
They do it all with a smile and pride
All of the fear, worry, happiness and joy
Unequaled by any store bought toy
The richest people, you'll see around
Are playing with children on the ground
Long life, for a child, to breath earths fresh air
Hear the echo, as all repeat the same prayer
Contest entry for "Children in rhtme"
Separation makes your heart grow fonder,
whether it's hours apart or a need to wander.
contest entry for SUCCINCT
You do not need the gods to be great,
feast not on the seeds of false fate.
Soar to the skies, sit at the shore of destiny,
tomorrow belongs to hope and harmony:
harmony of faith in the field of fears
and trust in the terrain of terrible tears.
Let us woo wisdom in a world of worries,
tommorow is a mansion of mysteries.
You do not need the gods to be great,
treasure each moment, tomorrow will wait.
Sit not on life's throne of thraldom,
we are slaves sold to the fold of freedom.
Bitter is the root of reality, taste the truth;
life will bow down to a dogged youth.
We do not need the gods to be great,
cowards are people without a common plate.
Where love is lost, life is imprisoned;
wars of woes will get salted and seasoned.
Look not behind, it is the hall of history,
before you lies the mountain of mystery.
Look not around, it is decked with distraction;
look within and plunge into the pool of passion.
The gods are dead,
they know not what lies ahead.
Ask not for rain when there are no seeds,
feed not your fate with dead deeds.
There was a Goldfish who thought he was a shark.
He kept biting the lily pad of a Monk Frog.
Behave said the frog, for you are no shark.
I can if I want, said the goldfish, if you are a Monk.
The goldfish kept attacking the lily pad with ardor and spunk.
He wouldn’t be gainsaid on being a shark.
As the Frog studied relentlessly to become what was wont.
Neither one believing the other… could become what he did want.
Now along came a snake to eat the monk frog on his ark.
But to him… this lily pad was sacred, and he didn’t want to disembark.
So the goldfish attached a leaf to stand straight up on his back…
And as he bit the snake’s tail the frog hollered SHARK!
Pandemonium ensued as the frightened snake did run off…
Thinking it’s better to be safe, than as some one else’s dinner doffed.
So some how, together they both became what they did want.
Living happily ever after, as friends in that great lily pond.
The moral my friend is you can be whatever you want.
Still, don’t stop as the path becomes hard, that you sought…
For if a gold fish can become a shark… and a Frog a Monk…
Then with work and friends made… you can become whatever you want.
Oh "Great Spirit" hear my words of truth and prayer
Long life for this child, breathing the earths fresh air
Teachers were given this precious gift, from your guiding hands
My grand-daughter they named Mali, who has all the lesson plans
So, that all may learn your lessons and the wisdom of your word,
to her parents you gave choices, instead of following the herd.
To choose the best for Mali, with all the fear and doubt you raised
Is a challenge to the best yet, they completed it unpraised.
They overcame each obstacle and hurdle that you made
With fear and doubt they fought so, she won't be dismayed.
I know life is Yours to give or take, anytime you choose,
with that give her life, on earth, and put mine as a muse.
This world no longer has use of it and I feel its course is run
So let, your child, Mali live the life, that Liam had begun
I see she has much to give this world, that it could surely use
My plea is that her life be renewed, before you must re-cuse
< this poem is not about what is written, but what is not written
like the smile upon her face that looks nil and somewhat smitten
and lochs of hair hanging instead of with bows and lace
tell me my angelic angel have you fallen from God's good grace
has your garments of thread gone out of time
has your dance with the butterflies gotten out of rhyme
have you been cast from your lovers heart
or are you just looking to start over with brand new start
has clouds silver lining rained upon your dreams
has leafs dance gone frozen in crystal streams
time stands still amidst wondering thoughts
time stands still when lovers cant be sought
Written By Katherine Stella 7/4/11
Entry For A Rambling Poet's
The Unwritten Contest
I've heard people use these words, since my birth
never truthfully considering, what time is worth
through recess, football games, wars and strife
guess I've wasted time, all throughout my life
like laying in the sun, watching birds in the air
seemingly, flying back and forth, without a care
but then I understand, what's really been seen
Their scouring earth for food, to keep it green
Thinking of all instances, as I go back in time
Time I thought was wasted, was really my climb
From the time of birth, we start climbing stairs
seeing, feeling and learning, of life and prayers
grand-children say "can't afford, to waste any time"
I say "can't afford not to, soon the bell will chime"
signaling the last lap, in your race against time
A chance to help others or keep chasing the dime
If you choose, chasing a dime, for wealth in a bank
your life will be remembered, somewhere on a plank
or choose to help others, your words persist on a troll
teaching "nothing is wasted that's good for your soul"
In this mirror, you can hear the child
in a tall grass field and running wild
The timothy grass hides this boy from view
Your watching, and wondering, is that you
Too few summers, with many lessons to learn
from earth, deer, trout, eagle and fern
As student's we gain and strengthen our voice
for the path we follow in life, is our choice
Take joy in this journey but, leave no track
If Mother Earth cries, then you can't go back
I see in this mirror, that the child has grown
a man,now stands strong, to hunt on his own
As he ventures through this forest of strife
making choices that affect generations of life
Pray that his choices weren't guided by greed
Mother Earth cried, the "Great Spirit" takes heed
50 years of choices, in this generation's reign
Tears come to my eyes, I feel Mother Earth's pain
Man's greed and arrogance spoiled water, air, sky and land
Mother Earth, I see is crying, poisoned by human hand
With grand-children sick, from this contamination of earth
I ask grand-father's guidance, that he return Mother's mirth
Man has stopped listening, he's only guided by greed
Are only deaf people listening, I keep planting the seed
I need your strength and wisdom to guide me along
without fear of what's coming, my relations are strong
Now I see in the mirror, an elder in white
This mirror fades to darkness, I pray for the light
for "The Rhyming Game" contest
The mirror doesn't lie!
I can touch buds on spring flowers as they open to greet the sun
Smell a sweet scent in the breeze, as the darkness starts to run
feel on my cheek ray's of the sun as life emerges from their bed
I taste the salt from my tears, GONE, is that what they said?
If come spring my time on earth, should be ended with one word
I will do my best for family, to teach reason and spread your word
How do I teach family of my knowledge, hope God will please employ
How can this man teach his family, when he has lost all hope and joy?
Can the only one on earth to love or share this sorrow with be you
Lost like falling leaves of spring, moving only when a cold wind blew
Realizing I'm caught between dying and dead just as these leaves
No happiness or joy just asking why, when, what or if I have to leave
Make good use of this man but, children dying take hope from this old boy
grand-child can't live, why should I survive without love, hope and joy?
Death is a thief of a child
"If spring is all the time I have to finish teaching what I know
I'll teach what I can of life to my family without shedding tears"
< I have dipped my pen in the sublime, it's my gift to you
Now use it wisely and write about some captioned caught views
thus that of an snow-capped mountain with an eagle that soars
or white sandy beaches where ribbed tides rolls back to it's shores
maybe stars and moon dance reflecting off stilled bay's port
in ones head you must determine choice of words to now sort
from beautiful to just pleasure does not hit it's mark
beneath recant memory that caused the ignited spark
observer of denial you can not destroy ones voice
within pens stroke there comes a poet with another choice
seize the day and come bow to the chosen word of the day
dont let an overpowering object just get away
Written By Katherine Stella 6/26/11
Entry For A Rambling Poet's
Writing In The Sublime
Oh please don't use the never word
The thought of it is quite absurd
To never having loved at all
Into his arms you may not fall
Instead please say "you can", "you will"
Loves sweet journey is such a thrill
For if you say you never will
Your void in life will never fill...
"The gates come down this night!"
Roared the man of light
Driven by fear and obsession
It was one sin never told through confession
Bellowing orders from atop his balcony
Blinded by delusions of glory
The priest led his herd
Countless dreams were crushed with the subtle power of one word
The mob lurched forward down the beaten trail
The wind howled as it began to hail
The wild pitch began to reach fervor
As the line between beast and man began to blur
The hopes for riches and plunder
Fueled the urge to tear the gates asunder
With a deafening crash the gates fell
As did the hopes that whatever lay beyond would release them from their hell
The priest waddled in holding the tails of his gown
Anxiously looking around
But there were no trophies or golden rings
Just rusted monuments to long forgotten kings
The priest fell to his knees
The people gathered to leave
As he began to shout
His eyes fell on the nail marks trying to get out
"What is truth?" Pilate plainly asked,
if a relative lens is one's looking glass.
What's right for you is different for me.
We haven't the same perfect eyes to see.
Do we seek to define our own,
when who could know truth but God alone?
How can one know which truth is right,
if holding a broken glass and not viewing with light?
How do we know God really exists?
The answer's written on our fingerprints.
We are made in His perfect image,
but the curse of sin reveals the damage.
A moral conscience is painted within.
It becomes more tainted the more we sin.
Where is the standard, if our conscience is led?
Some are soft, while others are hardened.
It's okay to murder the innocent,
an ignorant mob was convinced.
The bible says murder's a sin.
Is it THE Word, or a cultural spin?
Jesus claims," I am THE way, THE truth, THE life."
But people sometimes give this strife.
What sets Him apart from all the others?
He's the only one that saves without works.
God came down, as Jesus in humility.
He reaches to us, while others seek to reach.
Who is this God people try to understand?
What is our purpose, and what is His plan?
This is a great mystery, revealed in prayer.
Is truth found in Jesus, or elsewhere?
"What is truth?" people still ask today.
Where are you going, and who leads the way?
And now I've lost my papers,
My passport and my wife,
The very essence of
My identity and life.
My bank account is empty,
My cloths and garments sold,
My skin and bones are ashes,
Spread thin on the open road.
My old car's broken down,
No wheels to touch the floor,
The motor been dismantled,
Stripped clean down to the core.
The bailiffs and the policemen,
Have emptied my abode,
The promises I made you,
Have been auctioned out and sold.
The love I hold within me,
Is all that I now have left,
The rest is bleak illusion,
The bind man and the deaf.
The imaginary people ,
I thought were my friends,
Have left the scene forever,
As the road of life does bend.
And now I stand alone,
Upon this lonely hill,
I gaze upon the meanings,
The years have silently killed.
In the roaring storms of thunder,
In the lightning in the night,
In the whispering of the children,
In the white doves lonely flight.
In the dust of many ages,
That has settled on my soul,
In the ashes of my humanity,
That has filled my begging bowl.
The ancient breeze is blowing,
Calling me to my knees,
To behold the light within me,
In the prison of the keys.
more at http://labyrinthoflies.com
We speak words of wonder
We speak words of doom
We wonder why we fight again
Maybe it's too soon
We have thoughts of beauty
We have thoughts of technology
Our thoughts are disrupted by the constant technological barrage
Ironically the ideas that created this technology were applied in a garage
Not in a fancy office with a worlds worth of knowledge just a click away
The thought was that this technology would help us evolve as a race
It has in many ways however it's stagnated many lives
With the ease of technology today the general public have closed their eyes
To the corruption that runs rampant in so many forms
To the possibility that we can rise above the norm
The situation isn't hopeless
Just start to think about this
Is our American Nation, now the new frontier
by accepting All People that seek work and life here
I understand technology has shrunken this world
Did the Rights of Citizens shrink, as our flag unfurled
It seems that the loudest voices that you hear today
All cater to self interest, while trying to lead America astray
"We the People" does it still mean Citizens have the Voice
To decide what is best for America, We The People Make The Choice
When big money and interests from outside these states
Try to dictate Our Future, by buying people to act as mates
Remember the words shouted by Paul Revere on his ride
Listen to the cries from our ancestors as they seek to divide
When limits are the only solutions and if bans become fact
Citizens think for yourself, what you lose, and judge the impact
If our States Rights are limited, to a path by government as planned
It's our ancestors battles, blood and voices that put a vote in your hand
We can Teach All The Children of whats right and whats wrong
To pray, Trust in God, the value of family and how to belong
We have been leaving teaching to others to seek and accumulate wealth
Without thinking coins can't buy an Angel or protect children's mental health
Their are so many different answers That We All Need To Discuss,
so cut those puppet strings, start thinking, instead of riding the bus
43 cents in my prune-palmed hand.
Clumped in a circle; flat coins.
Brown for the pennies that hold my thoughts
and silver for the ones it joins.
Cupped in a hand with room for more
yet weighed by the heart as less.
Dumped on a table to bounce and flop
while left for the owner to bless.
You're a calculated master slayer
an evil manipulator
so go away out of my sight. See you, so long
I will not miss you when you are gone
Your oozing poors shower with honey
but all that you're after is power and money
You're pretentious, sinister and fooling a few
but you'll answer to a higher call much higher than you
Get your facts straight because they will check
to see how many lives you've attempted to wreck
Get on the next train haulin' fast down the track
I'm so grateful you're not coming back
Needs have a limit.
Wants have none.
Written by: Elliott Bowe
The truth was never pretty
But we all act smart and witty
Sugar coat everything with lies
Bringing forth our own demise
But we do it cause we can
Thinking its the perfect plan
It actually works or so it seems
We never admit living in dreams
Its the ultimate fact, always true
Look around, at me and you
We act happy when we're sad
Us people, we are so bad
Sadly, we think we're so good
Never wrong, never should
Sometimes you got to agree
A darkness in us, we never see
It comes out every now and then
Don't know how, don't know when
That fact everyone did realize
Their system, it did compromise
They try so hard to stay in the dark
Shut out every little spark
But deep inside I see a light
Very dim, barely in sight
Everyone's little confession booth
Accepting the ugly truth
Ladies if he doesn't cater
to his mother,what makes
you think he will cater to
Figure out how he treats his mother
and you'll know what to expect for you.
It could have been spaghetti
that I passed out on the street.
As icky as it seems to me
down near my hairy feet.
A yellow curl that made me sick.
A half a morsel not too thick.
That lay there still just like a worm
and made my stomach start to churn.
It could have been spaghetti
that I passed out on the street.
In sauce that lasts forever
in a place it will secrete.
THE WAY TO A HOLISTIC LIFE – VALUES ABSOLUTE
Why would I keep your life in the world,
when you trying to take mine out?
What kind of damn fool I am as lover?
I do not know hate?
This is philosophy.
Why would I love you more than I love myself?
I am number one; however, you can come next.
God said put no man before me.
I am in his likeness as a human being.
This is philosophy.
The Lord told Abraham sacrifice no more.
My needs must come first.
Renunciation is a Buddhist creed.
Why would I deny my needs?
This is philosophy.
If I am without belief, I lack epitome.
Celestial knowledge vested.
The universe origin and those that were discovered,
is a viewpoint to ponder.
This is philosophy.
Take notice to wrong
to make the right.
Build a bridge of crossing in meeting of the minds.
Consensus is what is desired.
This is philosophy.
Open your eyes to the love of humanity.
The world is not promised to us.
Earth is not a sacrifice given by Jehovah.
The Lord God Jehovah gave his only begotten son,
Jesus Christ Lord, so the earth would not perish.
This is philosophy.
THINGS NOT TO USE FALSE TEETH FOR
Well for starters, some things are obvious, see?
Wouldn’t advise anyone, not just me,
To be a circus rope-twirler holding the rope in me teeth
When there’s no net beneath.
Also inadvisable to try to bend iron bars
With teeth, as top performers do - but they’re stars
Circus jobs apart, the more mundane things to avoid
Would include the following where teeth are employed:
Using hand-held teeth for crimping edges ( a serious mistake)
Of pastry pie before wife puts it in to bake;
Showing amusing party-piece trick to in-laws
Where a toy mouse is chased by hand-held monster teeth jaws;
Placing teeth in special overnight water glass
With magnifying capability to greet waking wife, poor lass!
Sinking teeth in cup of coffee or plate of soup
To be hauled out for laughs in front of vicar with a whoop;
Whipping me teeth out in class to demonstrate
Difference between upper and lower plate;
Showing how difficult it is to toothlessly say
Massachusetts and Missisippi or Saskatchewan’s Sandy Bay.
In fact the only thing I recommend when using false teeth
Is be sure the top plate’s above and the lower beneath.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
* From my series “BODY PARTS - REAL AND FALSE”
There's A Fine Line Which Can Be Traced
Between love and Insanity.
- The Division of Gods -
It Spreads itself Through The Air
Like a Cancer To The Flesh.
- The Division of Cells -
He's Taken Shelter From The World,
Right at the Back of His Mind.
- The Division of Thought -
All This Worlds a Playground, And All
The Children Have Grazed Knees.
- The Similarity of the Human -
The Ethereal Bark Stains, Punched The
Time Card in His Memories.
- The Manipulation of Nostalgia -
He'll Stand in The Middle of the Swing Set
At 1am, With an Imaginary Sun on his Back.
- The Degradation of Purpose -
He Ponders To Himself That Loneliness Has No Alternative.
As He'll Never Share His Mind With Anybody Else.
- The Destruction of Ignorance -
- The Unachievable Bliss -
Oh my goodness! Did you see that???
A mousie riding on the back of a cat
Guess these guys have kissed and made up
Heard mousey yell “Hey! Giddy-up!”
Great to see them getting on so well
Mousey's relieved, as you can tell
Wearing a big grin from ear to ear
Felix is enjoying it too, it appears
Remember this lesson from one time rivals
Don't need no conflicts for survival
It's a whole lot better to laugh and have fun
Than face extinction at the point of a gun
So what did you learn from this sweet wee tale?
Enjoy yourself and drink lots of ale
You'll see little mousies and cats at play
Instead of killings on TV each day!
© Jack Ellison 2012
It is time to wake up and be truthful to ourselves.
We are just a dream lacking butterfly wings.
It times to strive for more.
The floor has no ceiling.
Our dynasty will form.
Our destiny is ours.
The monarch must rule.
We are the colors that soar.
We are North America.
We are the people that were discovered.
This is our time to thrive.
We have survive through atrocities.
We reside in our given places.
We are the faces of tribes.
Those that hate us are not within this world.
We are of a greater determination and of God.
The spirits of our people are our sacred grounds.
To thread across, is uncouth and unsound.
We will stand up for our rights.
We will fight for our way of life.
We are the voices of Chiefs.
We are the Tribes.
I have my Hubby’s steadfast belief in me.
He loves how my poems are light and airy.
He’ll give me an idea once in a while…
Then he escapes to come back, later to read my new child.
He calls these run-throughs a squirrel run.
For they can take off in directions, yes, any one.
Crazy thoughts become crazier still…
And story time leads to god knows, where they will.
My thinking is kind of like chasing around a tree.
You never know where the end will be.
But somewhere I eventually become truly still.
And that is where my Hubby adds into the trill.
Then the squirrel run begins again…
Light and fluffy and full to the brim.
Each day a new adventure... waits around the bend.
Live it. Love it. Write it... You'll be happier in the end.
Contest: Emotion: Squirrelly and fun CSEastman
If you read between my lines
You'll find secrets in my rhymes
In these shadows I expose my soul
On the surface it's still untold
There's more than meets the eye
I hide it well but I don't lie
Take a pen and make a list
Even now there might be a twist
If you really want to know me
There is more so look and see!
Intuition has a forceful voice
It speaks aloud, though makes no noise
No fear, no anger, not hot nor cold
A spiritual encounter within the soul.
Instinct walks a different plain
An experience related, alert refrain
Fear or joy might mark its course
Sharp hidden probes might give it force.
The mental is the strongest link
It controls and rules the way we think
Thought tries to oust out all the rest
It attempts to enforce, what it thinks best.
Emotion’s the spontaneous part
No grid, no goals, no weather charts
If in need to cry, to laugh, or scold
It frees itself from the mental mould.
The physical is oft the one deprived
For the mental takes it for a ride
Don’t drink nor eat, no time to sleep,
All bodily needs are trite and weak.
Life could be a kinder friend
If we’d but listen, and not pretend.
For our pieces should all synchronize
One can’t undermine, the other’s size.
Lips for laughter lips that share
Love and kisses with one so dear
Lips give praises to the Great King
Words of adoration loves to sing
O when the soul is corrupted defile
Lips will utter words grossly vile
Lips can torment the life of a brother
Can spoil the joy and peace of another
A variety of shapes size and color
But none more precious than the other
Each has it's own curves to admire
Some ice cold some filled with fire
Written by: Joy Wellington
For Carol Brown's contest...Lips
July 18 2012
It's a brand new day that lies ahead
Fame and fortune or heartaches instead
Each new day, it remains to be seen
Happy or sad or a place in between
You can't just leave it to fate every day
Your approach is key, you do have a say
The same old story bout good versus evil
Bout ying and yang, calm or upheaval
No one's mastered this up and down stuff
We try our best so that's surely enough
What more can we do, just smile and say
We're happy as all get out every damn day
Heard it a lot but it's still true as ever
Your approach is key, it's how we measure
So as I proclaimed at the start of this poem
Just plug away till the cows come home!
© Jack Ellison 2013
A quest to gain more knowledge, hoping answers to life's whys will be unlocked
Everyday I learn, perceive and reason, the path to answers will remain unblocked
What makes you tick - contest
A SINCERE WISH FOR A GOOD MAN
Easy to love
Easy to bed
This is the trap
driving nice men to wed
Easy to cry
Easy to sob
Then he'll be mangled
Like corn on a cob
Easy to spend
Easy to lose
This is the life
That most fellows choose
Just call a lawyer
He’ll fix it for you
Get rid of the woman
Who snazzles the screw
Pack up the kids--
Send them to mom--
Hope their new school
Has no majors in bombs
Find a new wife
Any looker will do
A paper doll woman
Is easy for you
Work and grow old
It's usual to do
Find someone to hold
Never fret about ‘true’
If you’re a man
With an itch to break molds
There lurks a companion
To have and to hold
Don’t look in a bar
Or pick-up soiree
Stay off of the sites
featuring boobs of the day
haunt musty books
near old movie shows
Find someone laughing
Or blowing her nose
a genuine character
packs humor and wit
When brains are a match
other parts learn to fit
A surreal chance encounter
began when I bumped into her
one lovely, Sunday afternoon
while walking Fairview avenue.
Both she and I apologized
then looked into each others eyes.
It was at that very moment
the eyes revealed our involvement:
we had once been husband and wife
living a former different life
but now gaze through and into
different colored eyes, once blue.
We recognized our mated souls
part and parcel of over-soul.
Shimmering streaks of silver shine on wisdom's crown.
Yellowed skin sagging with time once was smooth and golden brown.
Brightly colored memories stream thoughts of long ago,
Amber harvests, lush at day's end, we each reap what we sow.
Days of gray and darkest nights create an infallible stance.
Bright azure, laughing skies chase emerald eyes longing for a dance.
A lifetime of dew-kissed rainbows, regrets of scarlet are but a few.
Glowing confetti candles spark and float on blessings of true blue.
Ev'ry day becomes a hue in mind as beauty fades from aging face.
Vivid expressions of joy and love, rich colors lie in folds of grace.
By Rhonda Johnson-Saunders
For the Paint the World Contest, July 20, 2012
< Mirror mirror on the wall
This isn't my face quite at all
A ribbon in hair
This seems so unfair
Painted lips this I cry
Dress of lace
I feel so out of place
So I cast this spell back to you
Tee shirts and jeans will just have to do
For now I tend to be running a little late
From mirror casting own spell which I hate
Matt Caliri's Mirror Contest
As the never world awaits me,
The lord darkness, his cloak now draped.
Haunting images that appear in dreams,
Invade the subconscious, till again I wake
Complative thoughts well before the dawn,
I walk the morning shore,
How many have stood on these same sands,
Reflecting the echoes of those no more.
And still the waves they pound the shore,
Relentless in their quest,
As they crash on the rocks with deafly roar,
White tipped and foaming zest.
Dawn breaks with gilded cotton clouds,
Waiting like courtiers to their king.
Gathering round the sovereign sun,
Bestowing his warmth on everything.
Would that life compare to the shore,
All worries get washed away.
Cares thrown to the four winds,
As on my knees I pray
© N A Windle 2009
Live everyday like there’s no tomorrow,
Or your life will be filled with sorrow.
Bad enough to hear ‘you lose’
Then a flock of mail flies in
Don’t know which one you should choose
Then you glimpse ‘an AWESOME win’
Maybe it’s my humble past
Maybe it’s my country school
No one smiles when they are last
If you do --you’re called a fool.
Glory is its own reward
If you win your heart beat sings
Friends will greet you if they can
Life is sweet on eagle wings
Time is precious, time is short
Worlds await on shelves in books
Brush twitch paintings-- feet seek sport
I crave salmon on a hook
Ungrateful twit that I may seem
Courtesy is sometimes missing
My head I'll dunk in ice clogged stream
Avoid the flock of kiss kiss kissing
If you note that I have lost
Spare me time and spare me shame
Spare yourself the time it costs
To remind me that I’ve lost again
Nov 30, 2012
The bible and my parent taught me to be optimistic,
sometimes situations are tough and make me pessimistic,
When broke,I say to people 'I have plenty of money',
Even though I borrow,my tongue is coated with honey,
When sickness holds me down and weakness moves along,
I say to myself and friends 'I am healed,hearty and strong'
which backfired once as I fell unconscious and was rushed to the clinic,
the doctor said "no serious problem" so as to avoid panic,
Sometimes when in the mood I speak in irony,
Though it seems confusing but its not funny,
When impressed by her,"I hate you very much"I say,
which makes her to fidget and smile all day,
She is so rigid and crafty like an iron queen,
when actually she`s cool,gentle,naive but not mean,
I pronounced to the world,how I hated John for his malevolent,
when he helped me out by being benevolent,
When I say 'crabbed' ,what I really mean is' fine and good',
And when I say 'I have belly pain',It means I need food.
Contest:"When I say...what I really mean is ....." sponsored by Nancy Jones.
While some are always compelled to incite
Others reap rewards by being polite
Civility is challenging when views contrast
But much is gained when anger's surpassed
The social conventions of propriety
Reduce stress in a multicultural society
Acceptance of others' points of view
Even without concurrence carry you through
Exploring through debate, avoiding anger
A productive path for civil anglers
Failure to allow for differences
Wins no friends, no spiritual references
You may think you're "right," but get real
How does antagonism make you feel?
Far better to realize we've something to learn
By reaching across the aisle, respect we earn
Civility and Congress seem incongruous
Perhaps that's why we're in such a mess
So open your hearts to others' opinions
Learn from the actions of a wise Virginian
By reaching compromise in his Declaration
Jefferson gave birth to the world's freest nation
The path to tread is hard to know-
When each person denies to show-
What they truly feel inside their soul-
With the things from others they stole-
People always go with the crowd-
Since with themselves their not allowed-
To express themselves, their own self restricts-
Of what they see, what of them depicts-
MY BEST BAD CHOICE
Was a time --not long ago
When you begged me sweet and low
“Cast your net upon the sea
Quickly,darling, marry me!”
My heart caught
and in a minute
My life was soup
And I was in it
A fair eyed man means dangerous shores
& I'm adrift-- mid rocks galore
On a current, flashing fins
You cast your line--
And hook sweet sins
And, at work you cannot think
When fishy eyes blink out a wink
Even friends are not off limits
When tides wash in the vodka gimlets
Do I hate you, yes, I could
Do I hate you, no, I should
A straying man on marriage seas
When asked to re-chart his course
He usually stomps and screams “divorce”
Mixing metaphors and such
Keeps the critics out of ruts
Straying husbands/shagging rabbits
Cannot/willnot change their habits.
Oct 10, 2012
The shade of a swizzle stick dark and drawing
Fear head will fall in shivers while bowing
Snorts for some warmth fighting dreams till endowing
and save you from hugs where illusions are calming
Drooling aside to wiping the stubble
Awaken; then rising, then resting when humble
Sweet sleeping dreamer a'rest in the rubble
Left until morning when words will mean trouble
Kids are playing with strange blue graffiti
So, they wrote several times: ”Neffertiti” …
And drew the most beautiful queen`s head.
The whole history of Egypt written in red,
With sacred hieroglyphs unknown by Champollion:
The Pharaons` destiny dandles a dewy dandelion…
Each year silver strands of sunlight become woven into my hair.
Just like the silver strands of sunlight that help bind us everywhere.
They light our way before us as we stumble forth each day.
They slowly lead us forward into the paths of great byways.
God sends these silver strands that slowly build a crown upon our heads…
And they are earned with the wisdom, learned throughout the years ahead.
The strands will weave a family, and unite us to others, too.
For they are the strands of love given to both: me and you.
Love and work together is how they are slowly earned.
And the weaving is slowly done as we add others in the sojourn.
But how are they bestowed as so slowly woven into our lives?
I would say it’s given by Gods divine grace, in time.
MEN OF GOD
Kenya is a Godly nation
Check on any TV station
Starts at dawn and goes all day
Teaching people how to pray
Then at night it's shilling serious
With the watchers drunk –delirious-
If you want the chance to pray
First you get the chance to pay
“Men of God,” my colleague swilled--
“Deserve a special God-rate bill.
When I do a job for them
Charge them twenty not just ten.”
Victoria Anderson-Throop ©
12/01/12 Juja, Kenya Africa
Coffee sitting on a table coloured golden brown.
Just a sip from drinking it and sending it on down.
Made with sugar; made with cream; perfect cup of brew.
Some will say they love it; some will say "I do".
Smooth to drink and mild for flavour; warm upon the tongue.
Swallowing it seems like an end -and coffees life begun.
The finest place to stop
is on the very top.
Rammed into the weedbed she found her way to shore.
Her thoughts invaded by her crew who shifted on her boards.
Back across the water; her visions through a door.
One that shut repeatedly when shipmates pulled her chords.
Resting now as though a chore
that sailors leave like lords.
Down the boardwalk from the floor
relieving her in hoards.
Maiden ship from head to core
who's damage comes in torrids
Without these journeys and your lore
these men would have no swords.
Made up super heroes we're taught to love
Made up archetypes we watch get rough
We cheer on as they dispense justice
We've stopped questioning why we idolize this
As our heroes have become more brutal and more violent
We've become more detached and less present
We're passing our degradation of what it means to be a hero to the next generation
They won't be impressed until it's more violent, bloodier, the next super brutal sensation
Yes any soup is great for a nasty cold.
Just be careful that it is not really old.
Home canned soup can be really great.
Though if the seal is gone, don’t equate.
Store bought can soup can make the heat.
With protein sandwiches definitely compete.
Frozen homemade soup if heated up just right,
Can completely win over any colds plight,
Feed a cold, starve a fever is what they say.
I believe these words truly in every way.
Maybe we should all try some old remedies.
The aged of our past had knowing of amenities.
Dedicated to PD
**GET WELL SOON ~PD..
A sea gull flew over the ocean admiring his reflection every day.
Passing over the shore, he saw penguins at work and careful play.
What an ugly bird they are he suddenly proclaimed.
They can’t fly and still they strut… know they no shame!
One day the gull was swooping down angling for a fish…
When suddenly an orca whale knocked him in the briny brink.
Snapping and churning the orca would soon have his way.
The gull was surely lost, if he could not gain the air to stay.
Moments before the whale pod arrived the penguins chose to assist.
They chose to distract the whale, giving the gull a chance to resist.
The orca didn’t care which meal he had as long as there was one…
He finally beached himself upon the shore, and still he hadn’t won.
At that point the gull realized, the penguins were really seriously cool.
They could certainly fly in the water, if maybe not the air to rule.
Now friends for life… he would scout for them safe passage to their fish.
Indeed, the gull flew away that day a little wiser, knowing he’d been remiss.
Everyone in life is different. He surmised… It’s not a choice they’ve made.
But now he knows each demands respect… in their own separate way.
I'm surrounded by stores from inside and out
and frightened by one when all are in doubt.
Depressed by no money seeing items for sale,
while wanting for everything slowly going stale.
Soon I'll be shopping for groceries again
feeling hypocrisy's end,
while spending my budget all at once
and knowing that death comes again.
New given money will blind me
raising my feelings and stall.
Falling will send me out spending
While looking for dreams forsakes all.
Death killed by his own knife
A thief stealing his own life
Fear in the closet hiding
A critic himself criticizing
Anger scolded and burning
The head from the heart learning
Lust by innocence tempted
Day by night resurrected
Strength by weakness beaten
Hunger by a glutton eaten
The law caught and found guilty
Dirt by purity made filthy
Humility celebrated and crowned
A fool of his foolishness proud
Naught was stirring as I slumbered tight
A dream came over me as I woke with a fright
There stood a man dressed white as snow
His robes they were lit with an eerie glow
You can ask any question, so what will it be?
The answer will come from one greater than me
I simply asked; what would god have me do?
A voice from above thundered loud and true
Keep my commandments is all that I ask
The more time passes the more demanding the task
Never been like now
everyone turning into stone,
And I'm left here
fighting all alone.
Days have gone by
of happiness and joy,
lost somewhere in the crowd
leaving me alone to cry.
Never did i ever expect
to face conditions as now,
can't believe in myself
and still asking how??
Wrecked are the nights
with the dull moon shining
just above my head
watching me crying.
Beware ! the world
and let it be known,
that I'll come back
fighting all alone!!!
The name conjures up a lot
Dopey Disney dog extra to the plot
Forgotten one-time planet of the night
Not a Jupiter giant, gassy bright,
I’m just a small rocky ball
Nowhere near the sun at all
Cold enough to freeze the nose
Off Santa’s Rudolph as he glows
No regular orbit, just a path
Criss crossing others in a swath
So big around the sun
You’ll all be dead and gone
Before you see half my fly-by.
I can’t even be seen by
Anyone lacking a Hubblescope
But having only binoculars and hope;
And now demoted
No matter how long I’ve floated
In space. There are new planetessimals
Of sizes measured in decimals:
It’s like suddenly finding my father
Always had dozens of other sons, my brothers,
And my family status is reduced
By factors newly deduced
I feel unwanted, unrespected,
It’s not at all what I expected
NOTE A glance at your bedside astronomy almanac will show that
Pluto is no longer counted as “the ninth planet”. A large number
of similar lumps of rock are now known beyond Pluto.
A world so unstable, a life so constantly in flux,
we face the inevitable, never believing too much.
As our best laid plans never fall into place,
a life of uncertainty, while our hopes are defaced.
Fear and despair, seem the flavor of the day,
some resign themselves, they may even kneel to pray.
For a sign, a little help, from beyond their grasp,
a place to lay blame, repeating sins of their the past.
This night as we lay our heads down to rest,
into a world, dreams that will never deny our request,
The true nature of change, we may finally see.
this life of free will, created, just as we want, need it to be.
I hear the music of the Creator
In the fire of the sunset, in the blue darkness of the night,
In a starling’s song – a spring’s curator
Even when the quietness is tight.
It seems that love embraces all the creatures.
No more sadness, loss and tears.
No more wars, no more killed soldiers,
And only Madonna tenderly cradle her dears.
But how to understand where the evil vanished?
How can you distinguish love from hate?
How to survive in spite of all the deaths
And know that our life is our mate?
To know love we have to know evil,
Clean our souls of envy and revenge.
There is simply no the other way out.
With only love beautiful life you can entrench.
Gently moves the melody of the range,
Lost in an ambrotype that does not change.
Each twist of the trail still brings us all here
Never to leave now but always to fear
No god of our own making or dark dreams—
Earth-bound we ride toward Gomorrah it seems.
New range is waiting – it’s just up ahead—
Let’s spur on harder before we are dead.
Oh, the time for riding now is not long—
Every man sings, but few know the song.
Drops of sweat slip from my furrowed brow
Eyes squint, select a number and let fly now
Miss again, a millimetre is a mile once more
Aimed for triple twenty, only got double four
The walk of shame, my oh so familiar friend
Silence broken, on alcohol I forever depend
The steel point of eyes bore into my neck
My opponent leaves me a juddering wreck
I lose the match; the wife won’t give me a kiss
I wish I could have been anything else than this...
For the time it takes a teardrop to reach the floor...
The words I love you could do so much more...
When hurt and pain can last for an eternity a times...
The simple words I'm sorry can change a set mind...
TIME TO REINVENT TIME
Yesterday is the day from which you came
Tomorrow is the destination you will never gain
Seeking tomorrow thinking it is near
But at 12:01 AM is tomorrow really here
Time shows you just came from yesterday
And stepped into times grasp of what is now today
Once again you find tomorrow is not here
Just wait 24 hours - time whispers in your ear
And then tomorrow will appear
Time of course is playing its eternal joke
For again at time appointed - tomorrow is up in smoke
Time it should be known is an unawakened dream
With no more substance than ripples in a stream
Never ask time about future intentions
Future is another of time's jokester inventions
What the mind conceives while it's asleep,
The lovers and the oceans deep--
We fight, come morning, to recall;
A piece of dream; if not the all.
How I tried on Valentine's
all over the many years.
I've lost all of my Valentine's
and most of them in tears.
How I tried on Valentine's
to find my merry mate.
Working through the ugly
and possible first-rate.
How I tried on Valentine's
Forgetting all my failures.
Moving to the next one
oblivious of the bailers.
How I tried on Valentine's
to settle for much less.
Hoping that the next one
Would change and reassess.
How I tried on Valentine's
to go the other way.
Hoping that they'd chase me
finding me as clay.
How I tried on Valentine's
to say what's on my mind.
Shouting out my arrogants
and baiting the wrong kind.
How I tried on Valentine's
to make a friend at first.
Only to be shunned again
by girls who want you worst.
How I tried on Valentine's
to wait for the right time.
Left to find my girl
on another's dime.
How I tried on Valentine's
to spin a small milk bottle.
Landing on a stranger
foreign without throttle.
How I tried on Valentine's
to meet up with a bore.
When all she kept on talking 'bout
was nothing and no more.
How I tried on Valentine's
coveting one man's wife.
Only to release her
sharing in man's strife.
How I tried on Valentine's
Loving her full body.
Finding that she had no mind
and wished she had a hobby.
How I tried on Valentine's
Waiting to make love.
Ending up with others
When push came into shove.
How I tried on Valentine's
Seeking out a hottie.
Making me a sickly boy
who's doctor now called naughty.
How I tried on Valentine's
Expecting an easy date.
Getting just the opposite
but figuring it too late.
How I tried on Valentine's
Jailbait in short skirts.
Quick to kiss what doesn't last
and limits to their flirts.
How I tried on Valentine's
making the first move.
Only to find I'm ignored
for others in her grove.
How I tried on Valentine's
forcing my own way.
Told by a cold shoulder
How I could not stay.
How I tried on Valentine's
two instead of one
Only to be shot down
and told that I am done.
How I tried on Valentine's
Perfect to a tee.
Wanting only to be seen
in a bar as fee.
How I tried on Valentine's
Cautious and carefree.
Never knew what she was thinking
or who was bird or bee.
How I tried on Valentine's
remembering what I've learned.
Speaking words of wisdom
and loves that have been spurned.
Blood like breath spilling from the lips
Life like death sailing and sinking ships
Dance in the sun, forget sorrow
Embrace into one; here comes tomorrow
Feel pain and die again
Never know when to say when
Love like life
There's blood on your knife
Fractured little comic book
cracked along the spine.
Must and mold exhaust you.
Dullness shows the time.
Turn a page for reading
fuzzy art in blocks.
Squares with tiny bubbles
or just a place to talk.
Staples down the middle.
Two through every fold.
Half the book is over
and several stories told.
Flipped upon your back
where ads take all the space.
Toys for boys and girls
and all the dreams we'll chase.
Fractured little comic book.
Thank you for your grace.
My Ode to the Netherlands
White water lilies picked for Verlena in Friesland.
The Dutch Republic is over a century old.
We are there during autumn.
Flowers are everywhere.
The sunflower fields
Yellow and brown profound the canvas
To visit the Domtower is a climb.
Utrecht is a trek.
An ode comes to mind…
Dutch greetings we say…
Dutch greetings we say,
in the land of Friesland today.
Our home is our joy.
We are logical people and not emotional.
We are expressive in our thoughts.
Call us opinionates, if you want.
Dutch greetings we say to all!
Sponsor: Elly Wouterse
Contest Name: Your ode to 'my' Netherlands and/or 'my' Friesland
Date of Entry: March 29, 2014
Date Written: March 29, 2014
~Elly, happy birthday... This is two forms in one poem. The couplet and the irregular ode.
Best wishes and hopefully, this is not to much.~:)s
I see Him in the everyday,
Though others don’t see things my way.
They tell themselves there’s nothing there.
I watch them with a vacant stare -
What G-d would let the world go bad?
Remembering the times we had
In days gone by when words were meant,
Now promises are wet cement.
No truth in anything but lies -
Each day I see this in their eyes
They long to find some happiness
In books, in lectures and events.
What truth is there in all that dazzle?
What more could they give but a hassle.
Be honest now, do they appease?
Does paper now bring you relief?
You’re seeking grand perfection!
Impossible, by definition!
Such irony I have to say,
In paper do their lives now lay.
I stand in awe of such mistrust,
They’d rather put their faith in dust.
What G-d would let the world go bad?
The one that left it in our hands.
I ask you, doubter, think on this -
What kind of G-d would you enlist?
A G-d that pre-decides your fate?
No longer choices do you make?
Instead, He forces you to be
Whatever He requests of thee?
To never let you change your mind
Is this the G-d you won’t deny?
He made the biggest choice of all -
We were the ones that had to fall,
For you to choose what’s best for you,
He had to let the rest choose too.
Before you judge the L-rd Almighty
Just think about the choice before thee
And listen to the still small voice
Cause after all, you have a choice.
Madness seems to follow everyone it seems these days.
People seem to be so angry, in so many ways.
I did not use to have much stress, in years past.
Though here lately, pressures grow very fast.
Dealings in my job of facility property that’s old.
Seems like so many want it free, and make it bold.
Though I have found if I grant one a bold gift,
Another comes around and gives my life a rift.
They seem to want to be fair in who gets what.
As long as it is themselves that get, others not,
Other things I have noticed about so many chums.
They want more play at work, and become bums.
Now not all are like this, but the bad seed churns.
Making life harder on others who make good turns,
I enjoy all the differences people have within.
Though here lately all the madness starts again.
Sponsor Carolyn Devonshire
Contest Name March Madness
To U.S. born both wild and free
There is no worse place one could be
Than in a prison cell for years
For most men ‘tis a gruesome fear
But to souls in other lands
Where freedom’sjust a word that stands
On paper-- but an object dead--
With it you cannot bake your bread.
In movies in these lands they watch
Thugs whose pants fall off their crotch.
Who off to court they go-- then jail--
No mention made of tears or bail
Third Worlds watch the U.S. cells
That should resemble Dante’s hell.
Instead they look so germ free clean
Like the quarters of a Queen
Luxury in killer's cell?
How can thieves live-- oh so --well
U.S. jail is no bad life--
Well, you might miss someone's wife
As one boss of one small store
Told me-- as he scrubbed his floor:
“Me, I'll fly to U.S. land
Kill some guy and live so grand."
His tune said joke-- but it was not--
(U.S. TV makes brains rot)
But-- twas no secret-- truth could tell
He'd snuggle in Obama's cell.
Victoria Anderson-Throop © December 1, 2012
Oh philosopher my heart is no longer stone though you sought it with all your bones
However so vast, we fade, into our past.
Into future, we cast our lives so fast.
The shade of a swizzle stick frightened the drunk
Who's head bowed down in shivers of funk
Like leaves that cool when shriveled 'till shrunk
To swizzle our sticks in cool ice junk
Dum Drunken man with lids; his dreams
Erase each moment in flickers and seams
Won't die 'till morning; eyes form beams
When memories left forget it seems.
~The Shade Of A Swizzle Stick
Should I? Could I? Would I? The teenage bear was getting nowhere, fast.
He wanted that big salmon that had come up the falls, almost to his grasp.
But the current appeared too swift, for even a bear as strong as him.
Still, that salmon’s presence mocked him; he was dinner on the fin.
So as the bear lumbered out, a mocking bird suddenly began to mock…
“You’re going over the falls in one more step. Stop! Think! Think! Stop!”
“Didn’t your momma ever teach you even one simple little thing?”
Now, he had left home because his Momma had always told him what to do.
So he turned to the bird and growled… “Why should I listen to you?”
The bird mocked back… “Because you don’t stop and think things thru.”
Then, at that point the bear slipped, and almost went over the falls, it’s true!
He heard the bird mock, “Stop! Think! Think! Stop! Listen, you lumbering brute!”
Angrily and begrudgingly, he admitted the bird was right: a plan was due.
So with a branch he sent the salmon down to the bottom of the falls below.
Then, later with dinner replete, it was now time for dessert to bestow.
So he decided to visit the berry farmer and plunder most of his crop.
Again the mocking bird hollered at him. “Stop! Think! Think! Stop!”
“The farmer has a dog and gun! If you destroy his summers’ crop…”
“A bearskin rug will be your fate. So Stop! Think! Think! Stop!”
After 3 or 4 more times at mocking… The bear finally gave in…
For each time he had mocked him… He had also saved his life, again…
Since he had left momma behind, he now realized that he had done nothing right.
And though they were both rough, tough, loners: they still became strangely tight.
So in the end, they became fast friends, with each one helping the other out…
The moral to my story is: there’s a friend that can understand anyone, even you.
Friends don’t have to be beautiful or popular to be true and help you thru.
They are all very precious and none should be thrown away.
For you’ll need all their understanding to help: see you on your way.
MEN AND WOMEN
Some men prefer violence
Some prefer violins
Some women want to be chased
Others want to be chaste
The tree at the mall is right out front.
3 feet in; 4 feet out.
Been shortened for powerlines
and sparsened for rapists'.
It's branches cut back
where it's taxes placed it.
The tree at the mall is right out front.
What magic made dreams
Then made life
Made everything seem possible
Then made life
When I wake it’s gone
The dream has past
Always the dread
That greets the light
And a longing again
For the magic of night
Rendered risen life
Curls from the heart
The smoke of dreams
Where end is start
It’s there that I live
More truly and whole
Where there’s peace
For a dreamer’s soul
Once the day comes
And some day no more
A final night comes
A dream I implore
A dream long and worthy
Noble and due
A sweet note played
To see eternity through
Foreign are the thoughts of others
Like the minds of past lovers
Thoughts to which we may surmise and guess
Intentions remain questions, answers yet to confess
Reasoning reached through the labyrinth of the mind
Shared reactions due to the nature of our kind
Fractured we stand, divided by difference
Splintered we are, lacking repentance
We may pass, but hope remains, burning from within
We may ignore, but hurt remains, entrenched in sin
Pride leads to want, leads to power, leads to war
War leads to fight, leads to hurt, leads to more
Rise and fall, we cycle through civilization and destruction
Start and stall, we succumb to self-imposed attrition
Time unfolds and we're forced to react
We constantly plan, but we often lack the tact
To mend the cracks that divides our kind
To embrace the momentum of our time
To believe we can and must strive for more
To turn the key and walk through the door
Using forbidden truths have become pastime.
Speeches and media are hiding their crime.
I read the poets souls in the poems,
I read the poets inner world.
Pulse beats louder, then duller,
And all my doubts are just hurled.
The sadness sometimes a kiss cover,
Then suddenly curled at my feet,
Giving the whole body a heat,
The warmth of a true lover.
Fever passes through my nervous points,
Chill runs through the whole body,
I read the poets souls in the poems,
And feel that this soul is haughty.
I delve into the words and their nature,
Understanding destroys the walls,
Now I would like to capture
The main idea and the poems calls.
I read and my joy is in full swing,
My own soul gets the wings,
I am ready to fly with the singer,
Like me the poet is a swinger.
I am with that one who dared
To plunge into the holy spring naked,
I am with that one who shared
An inspiration and was not faked.
I read the poets souls in the poems.
But do I read the souls of reality or dream?
Let’s deem that no one here and there lies,
And the law of poetry is always precise.
©Larisa Rzhepishevska (Odessa, Ukraine)
I do not turn the other cheek,
so you can boast in my defeat,
I do not love my enemies
with but a smile, but earnestly,
I humble my once proud heart
in hopes to reach maturity.
Ive had my share of battles fought,
and scars to show for lesson taught
still no reason conceit
will ever I pursue or seek.
I do bless when others curse
to show my weakness with remorse
but I becomes a broken horse.
Following my master's righteous course.
I find no joy in any pain
but I pursue knowledge to gain
an ever steadfast path in life
not dictated by my strife,
so I do none of these for you
but for my certain peace of mind
that when I'm struck down by another
my heart still knows how to be kind.
In Response to What Am I
What if by people piece of paper was abused
Over and over again mishandled and misused
For illegal reasons by others been exposed
About prevalent problem what should be proposed?
Now only appears as a part of roadside waste
For clutter myself I never had a taste
Originally by others piece they did own
Then was left on highway laying all alone.
So sad that the owner and it had to part
Who was old and with a worn out heart
Mentioned it and then he and I did agree
People and paper should be handled properly.
James Thomas Horn
I can’t complain I’m sheltered and fed
But this nagging ambition still builds in my head
Of what was written and what was said
Of a lonely road far from my bed
You don’t venture far tiny bird in the thicket
The home you mind is safe from the wicked
It’s a shame you can’t fly far away
And see all the cultures time built on its way
With the people of both peace and war
And the beauty of things in nature to adore
But your home is well kept and happy it seems
But what of your heart, your wishes and your dreams
I can’t feel shame it would make me weaker
About the wasted moments left to the meeker
The scoundrel in me keeps my heart from fever
But fever is wanted by my soul the dreamer
So tiny bird would you say you much wiser
The time you spend you count like a miser
Or is it that you take simple love in your day
In the little you make from the soil and the clay
Do the storms bother you at all little one?
Do the storms keep you hiding waiting for the sun?
I see the light is there in the weather so destructive
Are clouds to you renewal or counter productive?
I take it we differ in thought and song
Though I can no longer say yours is wrong
But I take from you a lesson - a lovely subtraction
In the happiness to be found in simple satisfaction
An old adage that is good
Goes like this: “Can’t never Could”
Don’t say “can’t”; if never tried
Saying “can’t” may be a lie
Try those tasks outside you skill
If you succeed, what a thrill
Can’t a word that I just hate
“I’ll try it”, now that sound great!
SLIPPING INTO THE WRONG PASSION PIT
Loving wrong is nothing new --But pierces all the same
Byron did it--Loved his sister to his shame
Ruined lives his own and many friends
Thorny passion refuses easy blends
Fiery love consumes the victims –helpless fools
Whips through lives breaks every rule
Look at Oedipus a king and you will find
One more valiant soul who lost his mind
Passion chooses style to fit his taste
Sometimes vengeance calls a life to waste
Sometimes art will grip and bind your soul
Oft is politics or war that digs the hole.
Hamlet’s case—another tragic story
Father dead amidst a life of glory
Saw his mother’s naked love confessions
To get even-- faked a mad obsession
Poor 'phelia--abandoned –broke her heart
Hamlet mad with vengeance-- played the actor’s part
Dead Ophelia --lost her fragile mind
Hamlet grieving two-- now truly did unwind.
Having known this dread and tempting love disease
Know it never ends in any form of ease
So advice to souls who yearn to wed
Take care if passion's tears slip into your bed
Victoria Anderson-Throop December 1, 2012
My flame is not of a candle but of a wildfire
Burning, blazing, brilliant, dazzling desire
Feed the fire, never tire, sparks fly higher
Search in vain for sustenance high and low
Exploding supernova, darkness is set aglow
No need for sanity in this voluptuous vanity
Reason I forgo, nothing I need to know, flow
Flow to and fro, my mask to your feet I throw
Alone climbed this hill,
Watching so still.
I overcame fears,
Of all I held of yesteryears…..
But up on this height,
A majestic sight……..
Cloud flooded skies,
A deep breath within me dries….
Tranquility!!! I feel you near,
Oh I could sail in the winds without fear.
My brown eyes held the stars to light,
Soaked in the reflections that rose with pristine delight.
Stillness of the moments I distinctly hear,
Drained from within me is life’s fear...
Stillness my vacant eyes munificently dart around to feel,
Blueness is sliding into night’s lap, an obtuse glow alights its appeal.
Calm waters come engulf my scorching mind,
Pour yourself in through my eyes, quench burning embers that you find.
Tranquility drench your serenity into me,
Happiness flake my skin and singe it with peace to be.
Now the simmering still waters seem uneasy,
No waves lash the shores lying calm and easy.
It seems that something has made it soporific,
Sounds of relenting roars subdued by fresh snow layered thick…….
Never ever the moon above has shined down so brightly,
I welcome its soothing light within me forthrightly.
No rushing water turning to foam,
Retreats then comes again from the mountainous whispering domes……
Oh Moon, Entwine your auric wings of joys around my heart,
Ooze from it pink flames, so darkness depart.
Edify myself with joys of life
Darkness gone, light piercing through like a sharp prudish knife.
Welcome to my body all joys and peace,
Let it override the ebbing forlorn to currents dwindle and decrease.
Alone, I now sit, in quietude drenched,
Content in myself and with no feelings wrenched.
Relaxed…happy….at ease and contented……eased.
I do not know what tomorrow will bring
But today, oh today, just let us sing
Songs of life and all its creative potential
We are spirits born of something truly transcendental
In the world, not as one, together we all live
We feel the pain, we feel the joy; we take and we give
Some are bad, some are worse, but we share the same soul
To see past form, the transparency of life, some strive for this goal
We are alive, not then and there, but here and now
But perception blinds us; only seeing what it will allow
We have so much more locked deep inside
We mustn’t be afraid, we have nothing to hide
For all hopes and sins are shared; part of the human condition
If we do not strive to grow, we will fight a war of endless attrition
Arrested development; so much potential gone unnoticed
We live in our habits and regret moments missed
If we go inside and nurture that strength
We can be calm in the storm, no matter the length
Discover what brings this out of you
Because it’s through action that makes this true
Gold with shining yellow blaze
As if born out of golden sun rays
Precious, prestigious since ages
Gives to the hearts boiling crazes
Glitters in the crown of the kings
Gives the needy powerful wings
Looks so blameless and winning
But makes crazy hearts cunning
Its force of influence is stunning
It makes every stability running
It is so handsome and masculine
That it is loved by every feminine
But its real cost is in its character
It down casts every other factor
It’s capable of changing the world
Its way through is never hurdled
May God grant all heart like gold
Shining with the thoughts bold
Pure, long lasting and faithful
Rich by heart and ever cheerful
Leaving what has passed in the past is partially good advice
What partially isn’t right is pasts’ manifestation as present day strife
Silenced youth now a mentally ill truth
Stranded and lonely yet still walks toward an ideal venue
Ill dreams of ill beings –
Wakes up and is still seeing
A bright sun shining on dark souls
Yet we’re wearier of the common cold
Dreams are possible ideas
Even if on a tangent it’s real
Without dreams life is idle
We must dream for our survival
Our pasts have molded us
If we forget our past then our future is hopeless
Dreams sometimes mesh our experiences and play out future scenarios
Our dreams are on to something
We should tune into our intuitive radios
Do you know who I am?
Am I, real or a scam?
Can anyone really know?
Since we all go, to and fro.
Who is it next to you?
Are they, fake or true?
Who or what to make choice?
Speak up, you have a voice,
Do you know who you are?
Do you live, with any scar?
You told me the proletariat's movement was eternal
But I saw you reading the Wall Street Journal
Meniscus, meniscus, my coffee is cool.
Little meniscus I'm nobody's fool.
Once you seemed warmer; held by my hand.
Then there's this draft from a Tim Horton's fan.
Might be the windows cooling me down.
Maybe the door rifting around.
Regretting my coffee; some see my frown.
Little meniscus my cold little crown.
Maybe I'm thirsty; maybe too cool.
Currents come at me; stealing my drool.
Little meniscus forgive what I said.
Now that I'm drinking and thirsting instead.
Little mensicus circling my cup.
Not rising over and burning this shmuck!
This man will hang for his sins against humanity
Judged so harshly by his peers, he will not be set free
He asks “Why must I die for my crimes?”
“Because you’re guilty and it was only a matter of time”
He demands “But who decides if I’m guilty?”
“We do, we are the few thus we are the many”
The man stood in silence as he contemplated this
He queried “That makes no sense, what point did I miss?”
“Our meanings are not for you to decipher”
A quick moment of silenced followed, broken by the man’s laughter
He jests “How am I to understand my fate, if you will not share with me your conclusions?”
“Do you mock this court? The only conclusion you shall know is that we will not tolerate obtrusions”
He observes “I think this is a case of the blind leading the blind”
“Justice is never blind; we understand you and your kind”
He accuses “You are all like me”
“Yet you’re guilty, while we’re free”
He asks “So freedom is perception, we are as we perceive?”
“No freedom is corrected to serve the people’s needs”
He asks “So freedom is a business, produced by whom?”
“Freedom is none of your concern, your time is up, and your life is due”
And so the rope was put around the man’s head
He demands “Wait let me speak my last words before I’m dead!”
He speaks “All I fear is that I will be forgotten”
“That my family will not remember me and the other side will win”
“I don’t understand what it is to be human, I can’t handle the pain”
“And you all understand too well, yet you can handle the shame”
As he braces himself for death
He utters his last words under his breath
“If ignorance is bliss”
“Then apathy is a heaven you couldn’t bear to miss”
Embrace those tears that trickled down
Brought on by either smile or frown
For in those moments they were shed
They proved our hearts were never dead
Sweet angel bells caress the air
With tlling, tlling, tlling
Thrice they chime their gentle tllings
Then thrice again once more
With fluted softness, the tllinging brings
A chorale of soul-lights – Heaven sings
Thrice they sigh their gentle tllings
Then thrice just as before
And me? So sad? Such a sad, poor thing
Am soul-brushed - . tlling, tlling, tlling
Brought home to life, come home to love,
Throw wide my stained glass door
As hummingbirds, afloat mid-air
Still their rainbow wings
Astride the currents of the thrice-time tllings
Transformed beyond their core
One always think the grass is greener over there
But before you go and jump the fence, beware.....
For the Rhyme Battle contest
Tension on fingers, drawn to face,
Eyes ahead, judging time and space.
A life in the balance, measured and weighed,
A breath no longer, will be taken this day.
Smooth release, as fingers relax,
Shaft accelerates, flash in time, looking back.
Heart of antiquity, a soul of eternal light,
Air through feathers, guided by ancestral sight.
One single shot, in this senseless time,
Remembered connections, awaken and we find.
That which once was, will always be,
The flight of an arrow, released and free.
Thing is I’m human and I do smile
I act stupid every once in a while
I do it because happiness, I express
You, I don’t need to impress
See I’m all calm and nice
You make your bet and roll the dice
Always wanting to make me mad
You love it, you’re so glad
Thinking you will have an effect
Make me think I have a defect
But I really don’t and won’t care
Believe it, it’s only fair
I shouldn’t waste my valuable time
Your mere existence is a crime
How do you face yourself and live
When misery is the only thing you give?
People like you are so wrong
To this world, you shouldn’t belong
Thinking, you’ve got it all
Owning everything, standing tall
Thinking everyone else is weak
Compensation is what you seek
You have no faith in yourself
Just another book on the shelf
You were always insecure
The insanity in you is pure
So listen up don’t mess with me
This dark side will take over me
Don’t even think of giving it a try
For I won’t be Mr. nice guy
THE DAY IN A LIFE
Please, lowly and so very hairy worm,
believe ! You must have faith, your luck will turn;
your somewhat desperate soon-to-be flutter
will cause provision - of bread and butter -
to a family's table very far away;
this thought really ought to be making your day !
Alan McAlpine Douglas
Look up and imagine it to be
To imagine we all must be free
Kiss earth goodbye and just fly
Free as a bird you'll probably cry
Deep love of God opens for one
Who gives it all, for all and for none
Altruistic to the bitter baited end
Charity with heart, better amends
Die broke with love in your heart
To be free in every way, part
Give openly and maybe you'll get
In heavens gates, with little regret
As my job and health failed me... I dreamed to someday put together a
book of poetry and this will be the blessing it will begin with...
As I sit here weaving my poetry
Into the semblance of a book…
I find that I must ask Gods’ blessing…
For the journey, that together we have took.
I find I must bow my head in thought…
Over this book that together we have wrought
As my hands clasp oh so reverently and earnestly over my heart…
As I believe his help brought the words together that I sought.
And God set the journey that shaped what now before you begins…
He helped me find the words that reached through my heart to my pen.
I pray the poems will be worthy of what he showed me as my life’s art.
And upon this book I honestly pray that his blessing he will impart.
One love is so dear and precious for anyone.
To live without love is definitely a devilish pun.
Don't let the disappointments show
Make them as soft as the snow
Gather all the courage you can
It will make you a real Man
Honour each and every one you meet
Let all the hate and horror retreat
Remember! God loves all his creations everyone everyday
Please don't forget to thank him in every way each day
Happiness is always around the corner
Trying looking at this world with honour
Your life is as precious as a pearl
Let it sparkle this troubled world!
< Racial Segregation
Why Oh Why
Did King Try
Right Or Wrong
Black Or White
Put Up Fight
She Did Bark
I think what I think, and to that, I’m true
Stick to what I believe, that’s what I do
Hard to turn around, once it’s in my head
You won’t change my mind, I’ll change yours instead
Some will tell you I’m stubborn as can be
That maters not, I just got to be me
But then, “If I didn't think what I think”
I’d be confused; it would drive me to drink
Not think what I think; "here’s what I’d think"
I’ve lost my opinion, must need a shrink
Opportunity comes but in every instance
Look inward and Self-rate your performance
The open doors are still left unclosed
Flash back and see opportunities that you have loosed
Grace is all you need, don't hope loose
Once a lost opportunity can still be the goose!
There's no error in trying again
Opportunity lost can still be regain.
It's too hot in this house and the bugs are alive,
Shame they are not dead, my sleep would thrive.
A small speck of dirt on my floor
is worse to me than brutal war.
Gritty grime and nauseous noises;
ruin Perfectly prime Poises!
Once you're put together we'll talk,
I'll watch your details like a hawk.
Oh, us early birds get the worm,
if you're late, you'll make me squirm!
Foul bluntness never held my charm,
radicals just cause all alarm...
Life should be like a golden scale,
Beautiful balance never fails!
ALIGN WITH YOUR STARS!!
Never do i get anytime
what i always aspire
my fate has seemed to be
turned into a great liar ......
was it really my fault
to think about so high
that even my fortune
was forced to utter a lie
but no i didn't dream so much
that i couldn't have fulfilled
It wasn't a burdenon me
but i couldn't achieve it still
I have always been told
to dream higher and higher
but how can I do so
when idon't get what I aspire
I aspire many things
but rarely do Iget them
with misfortune following me
towards my mayhem
My bad luck is always bad
and my good luck is never good
what can Ido in such a case
when i tried whatever i could
Every time after a failure
I decide never to aspire again
but my adamant heart
never understands and still tries to aspire
Mary, Mary, quite contrary said no too many times.
The boyfriend did cry foul, and left her standing in her prime.
But that’s OK I tell you, he wasn’t the right man to make a team.
And she was looking for true love, that illusive, lovely dream.
The important thing to remember is what this means to you.
Waiting can make sure that true love, is really, really true.
When searching you must take care
The answer is always out there
Even if it’s not what you are
It's ok it’ll only leave a scar
The truth hurts when it can’t justify
Everything you’ve done and you’re forced to ask why
Take comfort in the thought
That you probably won’t be caught
God is watching everyone
You can’t be judged because you’ve already won
Religion is your veil
Subject the naïve and you’ll never fail
What would Jesus do,
If he were you?
Would he still be a martyr then?
Or would he be a footnote amongst the hearts of men?
It is our ambitions,
That can solve our ambitious contradictions
The problems we face
Are ours to erase
God only measures as high
As your will to survive
People are always complaining it seems
About gas prices, taxes and everything.
Did you every stop to think it through~
Just how good life is for me and you?
Do you have a place to lay your head?
How can you gripe in that king-size bed?
Do you get too hot, or get too cold
In your house that is temperature controlled?
Has your stomach ever been so empty at night
That you would have been glad for just a bite.
How many times last week did you go out to eat?
Think about the hungry when you go to sleep.
Can you still afford to buy what you need?
To you give in to your kids when they plead?
Buying stuff you don’t need to live~
When to a good cause, you could give.
I think we all should just be glad.
That we have all that we have had.
We live our life in a land that is free.
Stop complaining about America to me.
Sunny days don't turn me on, but I like the rays they bring.
Moonlit nights do rock my world, and make me want to sing.
It may sound strange that I prefer the dusk more than the dawn.
It wakes up my mind and body, and a sudden energy comes on.
Some say it is depression, an avoidance of some sort.
I will beg to differ there, but many thanks for their support.
It is best described by me, as a peace the day can't give.
It does not seem chaotic, and there is more time to forgive.
The sounds I like also come at nighttime for some reason.
I prefer the crickets chirping, to an alarm clock any season.
Last but not least the romance seems to flourish at that hour.
Whether in the bed, the kitchen or my favorite - in the shower.
Sunny days don't turn me on, I do not need them to feel heat.
Moonlit nights do rock my world, and then the day's complete.
Miles and miles I walked
In search of the holy one
Who made you and me
But could be seen by none
With a disappointed heart and fragile attempts
I lost my hope, I gave up my hunts
Consoling my disturbed soul, I looked up at the sky
Watching the snow balls roam and cry
The serenity of the night from the grace of Adam
Comes across Eve and the garden of Eden
I was gawking down at the flowers smiling
The moon's bright white light shining
On the most beautiful, eternal place
I stared at the lady bugs on the green grass blades
It could be seen everywhere, the beauty he has made
Squirrels digging deep and their tails broom the ground
And butterfly wings in a merry-go-round
And then it burst , upon me the truth so pure
To my incomplete spirit, the heavenly cure
For all the legends and myths I blocked
Every temple-church gates I knocked
Beneath every horizon, in the very pages of books
And in every desert and every snow hooks
The secret was there, simple and sweet
Oh! I sigh with regret
Why in my life couldn't I get?
Now in my coffin do I realize
That in me was my Lord, and the earth was my paradise
As I ponder so weak and weary
I read your story, it was dreary.
No need to thank me for the markup
I digress, is this the wrong tree to bark up?
However red your paper might be
Loving eyes did set it gently free,
Of errors do I speak unjust?
My quill made many a thrust.
I hope you find that I loved it too
Wrote entirely over, just for you.
Have You Ever
Have you ever had a foolish fear before?
You never did like and want to ignore
Wondering where it came from anyway
Hoping for short time it only will stay.
From doing things, this fear held me back
And my stable mind which once was intact
Became feeble and no longer is certain or sure
Of how much I can stand or be able to endure.
God, I want to give you my each frivolous fear
I am so glad that none of them now are here;
My heart and mind You have come in again
Much better will be my poems and way I begin.
James Serious Mysterious Horn
? Are poems more interesting
that start off with a question?
Today is dog day and his first
name was Rin.
Genuine integrity and honor they say
Comes from an absolute spiritual way
Sending messages you keep deep inside
Misfits and sinners stand silent with pride.
Society needs to delve deep today
Many of us alone, or withdrawn in some way.
Our morals get lost...we keep on trying
To Keep ourselves safe we may start lying.
Not one little spirit is quite so rare....
That their sins are forgotten with one simple Prayer
Gotta be honest and humble...it's true
Lessons learned are not all that new
Simple deceptions of powers inside
Allow us to listen to our false pride
Perhaps there is nothing more...nothing less
These words of wisdom just put in a chest
How many times have you heard people Chant
Believe in the power of saying, " I can't"...?
We need time today to think and ponder
Allowing our souls to willfully wonder
Life's reality seems quite profound
Once you delve deep you've then yourself found
Judging yourself from the inside...
Lay no judgment and swallow your pride~
< You Snooze
Get Out Of Bed
Get A Job
Loves To Dream
Hell No !
Gotta Go !
Work You Know
See Ya Later
Remember all life's happy moments
Cracks in mood, it surely cements
Happiness comes only rarely
No one is ever happy or jolly
God's theory is very strange
He introduces often a change
Now if happy you are
Soon fate will try to mar
What you think deeply now
Will get changed somehow
Nothing is ever permanent
Change alone is constant
Present state is only temporary
It will surely change in a hurry
Success will follow defeat
Again defeat will then greet
God's laws skillfully manage
They build as well as damage
Our destination will arrive
Into end we will surely dive
So be happy while living
Peace comes by giving.
SEARCH mvvenkataraman IN GOOGLE OR YAHOO
I am a party animal, my heritage is mixed
quite content to lounge about when conditions remain fixed.
Suppose that’s the nobility which Krypton must provide,
maintaining stiff upper lip when I’m all buzzed inside.
Then too, I’m mostly nitrogen, which is very stable,
tamping volatility of oxygen: it’s able
to combine with hydrogen (that’s also in my make up).
Uncontrolled? Oh that would lead to an explosive break up.
Carbon Dioxide? Its percentage varies night and day:
vegetative respiration, or so the boffins say.
I wonder why I don’t glow multicoloured in a storm:
my neon, argon, radon being Vegas lighting norm.
If I had more Helium the humans would sound squeaky.
I imagine the attraction of that chap Enrique
Would suffer greatly from affliction. He’d become mundane,
and prove downright offensive if I gave him more methane.
I’ve also Nitrogen Oxide, not Nitrous NO2,
and a soupçon of ozone which had once protected you
from harmful rays from Out There much more than now is measured.
It seems that humans cannot see what really should be treasured.
I’m moved by friction of the Earth and pressure off the bat
while Coriolis effect pushes me this way and that:
north and south of the equator, the opposite I spin.
Any other speculations, my friends, are simply wind.
Esthetic arts and ample wisdom
Upon a sullied fen and a gemmed kingdom
Sullied fen, how filthy you are!
Beauty has fled and is now afar
We seek wisdom, it is to be found
Not among what your grime surrounds
They left the fen, how selfish within
Here, the shallowness of mankind begins
If only they’ve seen the glamour it holds
Wisdom within, wisdom to unfold…
Wealth and gold, marvels of life!
Upon the kingdom’s crown were rife
It lay somewhere among the attire
Yet it was neither wisdom nor satire
O kingdom it was wisdom you claimed!
One your prosperity and wealth have tamed
Beguiled they were by the gilded reign
They now believed it was wisdom’s terrain
They have failed to see, How shallow is sight?
Beauty has just demolished insight…
“Insight is beauty… Beauty is not insight”
fret not great ones
the clouds are for our sake
we will again clear sight
at the vanquish of night
when we wistful winter wake
have than noble dreams
for time holds but well fate
and there shall be here
at the merge from the pair
when we wistful winters wake
then till summer comes
shun not we our winters break
for both have a place
in the fabric of space
while we wistful winters wake
for both have a place
in the fabric of space
as we wistful winters wake
Ankle deep water, ebbing, seeping
From melting ice to flood is leaking
To form a rapid river flowing
Ounce by ounce this stream is growing
To wash into an oval pool besides
Then rush to meet the rising tides
Of oceans deep and full and wide
Where froth upon the billows ride
Upon a yellow sandy shore
Where shells collect up by the score
Displayed in jars in seaside shops
Among golden pears and red gum drops
From mountains high and oceans deep
Where eagles soar and dolphins leap
From high above to down below
So much beauty to love and know
The hawk was flying low: he was the fiercest in the sky.
He bullied all the little birds, and flew off with their lives.
The little birds were peaceful, and didn’t want to fight.
To them it was better: to run and hide, then finally to take flight.
Day after day he drove them closer, to the proverbial, final brink.
Then came the day, they rose up, and no more away to shrink.
Soon there would be hatchlings, so the bully, simply had to go.
No longer were they timid, it was their time to truly show.
Banding together they hatched a plan to run the bully day and night.
One can fight, one or two, but a mob shows way more might.
Constantly in pursuit, the bully was never allowed to rest…
The bully finally admitted defeat, and even moved his precious nest.
He could not protect it, if they kept him running away, and stressed.
The bully had finally learned the truth: that is my moral here…
The small may look an easy mark, but are not as helpless as they appear.
If the meek are brought to their knees… look out my bully… dear.
Inside the center, creator of inventor, who is there
Onion from which I stare, mystery of me, who is where
If people were noodles and lakes were their soup,
Sudbury's basin would be a great scoop.
300 lakes or just a bit more.
Some have been counting and some are just bored.
Sudbury's water is healthy and clean
leaving our noodles shining with gleam.
Fresh water soup minus the salt,
fresh as going into; fresh by default.
Trees for our parsley cover our shores
keeping us fancy and breathing for more.
Soup we serve fresh out of each bowl
welcoming noodles the world whole.
THERE LAYS A LONG AND PLAIN ROAD
NOONE KNOWS WHERE IT BOARD
THE SUNRAYS LAID AS A SLIT
CROSSING THE FENCE MY FOOT TOUCHED IT
TIME DOESN’T FIND A PLACE IN MY TRAVEL
MY HEART FELT LIKE I WAS OUT OF HELL
IT’S SPRING TIME AS THE LEAVES FLEE
THE DAUGHTERS OF TREES ARE AT GLEE
THE CUCKOO MADE A MELONCHOLY
WHICH I ENJOYED MYSELF SILENTLY
THERE COMES THE ROAD’S DIVISION
FOR MY MIND TO TAKE A DECISION
THE RIGHT TAKES ME TO LIVE MY PASSION
THE LEFT TAKES ME TO LIVE IN COMPULSION
THE LEFT GIVES MY LIFE A GUARENTEE-BUT
THE RIGHT GIVES MY SOUL A HAPPY TREAT
A GUARENTEED LIFE MAKES ME WEALTHY-BUT
A HAPPY SOUL LIFE MAKES ME HEALTHY
I’M TRUE TO CONSCIENCE BASICALY
AND MAKING UP MY MIND FINALY
I BELIVED MYSELF AND KEPT FAITH
WITH A STRONG HEART I TOOK RIGHT
IT CAME TO LIGHT NOT THE BURDEN
BUT A BEAUTIFULY SPREADED GARDEN
EVERY GRASS IN IT SAID TO ME
IT’S YOUR LIFE,YOU FEEL AND SEE
LISTEN TO YOUR HEART WHAT IT SAYS
BECAUSE IT’S YOU WHO WILL LIVE YOUR DAYS……
Baby don’t give up the hope
You know hope is God’s rope!
Being a mother was just not for me.
It was never a plan in my life of folly.
Plus, I didn't like my Mother at all.
She hurt me with words and made me feel small.
Being a Mother - meant yelling - and screaming!
For the poor child it meant constant redeeming.
That was the case in my household of bliss.
Tough love doesn't work when it's love that you miss.
Being a Mother, you know how babies are made.
My protection deceived me- when I got laid.
Oops, I was pregnant; Pro-life showed it's face.
I did the deed - and I rest my case.
Now he is six and sometimes it's so trying.
If I said it was easy for me - I'd be lying.
Yet, to my surprise; I have done better than her.
Using positive means, and not words of failure.
Being a Mother is easy to do.
Being a Mom; is the most treasured virtue.
Under God's steeple
Just reach out
Stomp Holler Shout
Let one know
They're Loved So
Show Em Representation
Tell Em their doing a great job
Never call them a big fat slob
Lend them your ear
Help wipe their tears
Illuminate their thoughts
Help them with their sought
Open new doors
Let less fortunate sleep on maple floors
Spare a dime
For you commuted no crime
Break bread if you must
For in God we trust
So beautiful people shine on
Come join all in this Heavenly bond
So many have intelligence, or acknowledgement,
Who amongst us has the right, to set judgment?
One thought, shall not, make any major logic.
Sanity or insanity, which would be neurologic,
Ones intentions are the true real only sense.
Objects, desires and finished plans, keep suspense.
To reason about truth, is set forth in the mind.
To reason about falsehoods, are definitely unkind.
Each of us has turmoil, traveling with us each day.
Our choices, we make always carried upon the way.
Comprehension of what is right or wrong, our impasse,
Upon our decisions that we make, drives what we amass,
So therefore, reason is the season of mankind’s soul.
What we openly see, what is blindly found the goal?
Sponsor Paula Swanson
Contest Name The Voice Of Reason
An Angel stalked my better-half through my mind
Questioning our flawless design
Angel: "What is a beast if you grant it introspection?"
Man: "It's still an animal, yet closer to imperfection."
"What is a dog with no will to live?"
"A dog with a will always has hope to give."
"But dogs cannot contemplate, they simply are."
"Yet humans can, is it an improvement or a scar?"
"Undying love is a gift you bear!"
"What good is it when it hurts to care?"
"That is the beauty of woman and man!"
"But what is it, what truth is there to understand?"
"That is for God to tell"
"If our questions go unheard, I'm glad we fell."
"You've only fallen if you fail to see."
"I don't see god, but I can feel the animal in me."
"You would deny your God given status?"
"If God made us so great, then why can't we kill the bestial urges inside us?"
"Some people dwell closer to sin."
"Yet none of us can handle the animal within."
"I cannot help you if you can't agree."
"Only if I agree you will set me free?"
"Only with the glory of God can we save you and your kind."
"You cannot help me, you are just within my mind."
With that the Angel fell dead
The man stared calmly toward nothing and shot himself in the head
Dressed in black
Didn't come back
Got A Rope
Hung that dope
Dead Body Hauled
Poured the whisky
From Junction 60
Dead Man's Trail
Where slingers failed
A new job floated by her door
Should she grab it
Time was passing
What was she waiting for
While men grew stronger
Women lost their dominating powers
What gave him presence
Diminished her into golden hours
She fought the panic
That filled her with dark dread
She fought the pounding
And the fear that stalked her head
A new job floated by her door
But she still waited
Confident that there would
Be one more
Victoria Anderson-Throop ©
your husband works til ten
your wife has cramps again
your kid stays out all night
Things at work don’t seem just right
Reasons why may be a lot
while your gut ties up in knots
Easiest and often worst
Is the thing you think of first
Many reasons could explain
Why bad actions have been done
But the first that hits your brain
Usually is the accurate one
*Occam was a 14th century philosopher/scientist that said the simplest answer is the best--this was in reference to science as well as life
Razor: short concise answer
Newborn soul of wind and sky
Angels tread softly upon this place
Eyes of elemental flame
Glowing passion, simmering grace
Feral child of natures plan
Innocence of this earthly place
Learning now the ways of man
His sins to be embraced
Realm of man exacts its toll
A life spent bereft of care
Cynics heart, unfeeling hands
Vacant eyes and deadened stare
Beliefs embraced, preached as truth
Corrupted chants of prayer
Spread the lies of immortality
The guff no souls to spare
Fire to embers, flames to ash
Life's goals begin to fail
Within himself he lives and breathes
Good intentions he derails
Final breaths he draws in pain
Memories start to pale
A world now dims in retrospect
As he steps beyond the veil
< The Rose
A Rambling Poet's
The Flower Contest
Little square life with a toothpick flag
Whose ambition was this toe tag
Voices from the fountain can’t tell me
And the river holds no key
Wisdom brings an audience of fools
Broken genius and a yoke of rules
Whose life is running from the dark
A run-on life with exclamation mark
This banshee from the debris
Yells my name like it knows me
The tender footed feeling every stone
The tender hearted feeling all alone
Van Gogh’s ear in a jar on the shelf
Says I need a hobby like cutting myself
I want to cut my shadow free
And let it run back into the night
But, this banshee from the debris
Yells my name, like it knows me
Where from Here
How would we find light by embracing the dark
All the hate and fear men seem to embark
We know this in our hearts but still raise our sword
Gods given a peaceful loving world that we should always move toward
The world we create is from a sick and broken mind
If our egos don’t soften it will be the end of mankind
Eons of hate passed down through the ages
Taught to our children given rise to unknown rages
If we look to God we can break the bonds of this fear
And finally live as one and joyfully see clear
For life is meant to work and this is Gods plan
For there has been love in our hearts since all life began
It’s not letting God in but it’s letting Him out
For he is part of us all and you can’t live in doubt
The pulse of the universe lives in every beating heart
This loving creation that we all are apart
So lets put all else aside and make peace our dream
And rise up to faith and become one with the unseen
Copyright 2011 4/1/2011
Wrath is the most dangerous of the seven deadly sins.
Its magnitude leads to an end, where the other six begins.
It can start with Pride, by hiding ones true feelings and implode.
Then lashing out at someone close, because it was swallowed.
Lust comes in when indignant thoughts, lead to hurtful words.
The victim looks for kindness, and sweet talk comes in herds.
It is often found with Envy, whether it is love or financial gain.
People want what others have, and will inflict the worst of pain.
"Glutton for punishment"; I recall that term, it happens all the time.
Go ahead and hurt me for I am use to that, you slime!
Let's not forget old Vanity, for that is known worldwide.
People suing surgeons for mistakes they cannot hide.
Last but not least, Greed comes to play - with its only friend.
Armed robbery to petty theft; the list will never end.
I know this hardly covers what this word of rage intels.
For Wrath is my worst enemy; it festers and it swells.
Feeling the world is big, with no power to see.
Saying it is so large no one can sense a degree.
Has been said you can change your world
Changing heartaches into happiness unfurled.
Power is in your hands, to change all things.
Faith flowing in your soul, the spirit brings.
Visions of your heart and mind will confirm.
Futures are made, do not wallow and squirm.
We all have a power and a purpose in life.
Seek and find, stay sharp as a knife.
Power is in your hands, decisions and choices.
What you hear in your mind is you; not voices.
Choice is a powerful tool, for to use and make.
Awakening the roads to travel, be sure you’re awake.
'TO THINE OWN SELF BE TRUE'
“To thine own self be true”
Seems such a childish quote
No hidden meaning lies asleep--
No lessons drubbed by rote
Once learned this simple thought
Weighs heavy on the mind
For if you choose to scorn it
Your conscience is struck blind
Victoria Anderson Throop ©12/9/2012
Human nature the epitome of despair
Ask around, does anybody care?
The submissive to the strong and the strong to the circumstance
Historically falling into the same traps by chance
Prove a point by looking the other way
Or step-up and change today
The problem with living in this Democracy?
We can’t see the walls when we assume we’re free
When simple ideas are fed with simple lies
The power overwhelms the opposition’s cries
We live to love
Some obsessed with the power above
The power of faith can blind
Sometimes true answers are harder to find
Criticism is an instinct
Try to slow down and think
The ideal for you
Can’t always be true
The world can’t change overnight
But we’ll never know if we never try
Do you know why the caged bird sings?
She sings because of little things;
A meal of worms, a bright blue sky,
The sounds of freedom ever nigh.
Of simple things that set apart;
She sings because it's in her heart.
The winds of autumn blow
The crux of the matter
Do I bend or do I break?
Willow knows the truth
She may weep besides waters deep
But she drinks in courage to face the future
And bends when winds do blow
And in her serenity - she survives
'She accepts the things she cannot change'
© Brenda V Northeast 24th Jan. 2011
For Nette Onclaud’s- Serenity response
The Serenity prayer by Reinhold Niebuhr
God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change;
courage to change the things I can;
and wisdom to know the difference Amen
The God gifted, granted nature
Of each and every creature
Is its characteristic recognition
Revealing itself in unique action
All rats are nibblers, wasters
Dog barks on seeing strangers
Cow gives sweet, maternal milk
And a cocoon spins lusty silk
It is only the creature named man
Whose action is never certain
What can he do or cannot do
Is out of any certainty and clue
Sometimes he can be a survivor
But next moment a destroyer
He is the only of all creatures
That has lost his natural features
He can save his own sisters
But can smash all others
He can save his own honor
But can cause others dishonor
He can be an angel for someone
But for all the others brute demon
He can be a worshiper at a place
But a destroyer in another case
Even his creator cannot know
How much brutality he can show
How he has lost his manly trends
And created in him guilty brands
What you should do is try this on for size
Aggrandizing by giving out a Peace Prize
Or should I further have to elaborate
Enhanced egos make people think they are great.
So why is America running all interference
For impoverished world with poor appearance
And at all to me makes absolutely no sense
To do nothing and hold things in suspense.
Of course, calm and gradual should be approach
Before energy and education start to encroach
Along with emphasis on all of our talents
No wonder whole world will never be in balance.
James Thomas Horn
The death of a saint, a martyr to some
The death of a hero, a husband to one
A soldier turned humanitarian, he cared for all
He attempted to hurdle that natural barrier, to climb that human wall
To give up his dreams and aspirations
To relinquish his will of self-preservation
To benefit all of human kind
To alter how we interact, to change our time
Such a task he set upon with stalwart dedication
He preached caring and forgiveness, not revenge or vindication
He loved all regardless of their color, religion, or creed
He served everyone, just as he had served his country
With a fire and passion not seen in lesser men
He truly understood what it meant to be human
Yet not everyone shared his vision of peace
More blood was spilled and the fighting did not cease
He carried on despite the pain of knowing so much
He often relied upon the love of his family for a crutch
But there is a point at which every man breaks
His feeling of failure overwhelmed his need to be great
However even in his darkest hour, his hope did not falter
His compassion was renewed with the help of a different altar
A belief built upon the hope that people can change
He had experienced so much, developed such a broad emotional range
It seemed that he was ready to change us all
What a tragic thing it is when greatness does fall
Alone in the darkness of his room the killer did sit
The hero was shot and killed by a man who was painfully desperate
Seeking a greatness of his own
He wasn’t satisfied with the world he was shown
And so died the dream of the hero, this saint
The martyr departed and his fire burned faint
Yet hope never dies
It is in everything from the way we believe to a newborns cries
We would do well to remember that ordinary people have had extraordinary dreams
Amongst all this bloodshed there is more to life than it seems
We are all here together, for what purpose we do not know
However if we recognize those around us, we can always help each other grow
To always be working towards that next step, to be supporting that re-birth
For love is all around us and it is the most important thing on Earth
Grow and Grow
Our egos forever will always exist
Constantly clashing, continuing to persist
Often what will end up sealing your doom
Is taking others for granted and to assume.
Over head, many things happen to be hanging
While noise appears and is constantly clanging
Every time it approaches and becomes near
It is your ego again beckoning to appear.
Before off, you become extremely ticked
Like a fool, into something have been tricked
There is an eccentric characteristic of an ego
It likes is to everywhere greatly grow and grow.
So what if Freud was to flip his lid?
If I skipped super and forgot about id.
James Serious Mysterious Horn
Many things appear to be candy coated
When by others, we have been exploited
For their convenience and own lifestyle
And, at times, finding it hard to smile.
They sure are business people in appearance
With company rules must be in adherence
Which to us may not make much sense at all;
Why would they ever want to anyone appall?
Several poems appear to be confusing
And as a scapegoat seem to be using
Those causing death have demonstrated
That they all should be eradicated.
So keep life all short, simple and sweet
And KISS Formula will successfully meet
New thinking and world can then greet
Read rest of my poems and I will treat.
James Serious Mysterious Horn
Alternate Pen Name
People think differently, anticipate the best.
Face possibility, bravery trusts with zest.
Panic stifles reason; rash actions bring regret.
Sorrow has its season, but patience, does not fret.
Time heals many wounds, assuming wipes out care.
Trouble comes all to soon; thinking makes one aware.
When panic comes to call, trust can erase all fear.
Love and faith standing tall helps hope reign bright and clear.
© October 9, 2011
Today is Ten Four
When economy and stock market are declining
Which party about now should we be whining?
Place blame on by giving them the credit
Got ticket due to parking meter never fed it.
Check out Federal Funds so you can start to see
Ones that happen to be all full of redundancy
For others they may be a big pie in the sky
But certainly not of course for either you or I.
What if I went on and were to further elaborate
Who with and why would I have to collaborate?
Congress has many dates that are suspense's
That try to protect all their personal expenses.
Maybe in my poem I will go ahead and expand
Look at what lousy policies have done to our land
Along with our hopes replaced by frantic fears
Which one do we want? Two or six more years.
Today is going to be a great day and I can tell
by the date. Have you ever heard of Ten Four
before? James Serious Mysterious Horn
Has a cold sad heart,
Winding down like a clock with its parts,
The days and years are shorter,
They would be longer if he is a courter,
Those hearts are lost in winterstorms,
Snowflakes falling into nothingness that mourn,
With trees that follow with their permanent shades,
Killing hearts slowly with branches that are blades,
Those weary souls that cry at night,
Trapped in hell by hearts that never see light,
And when that love door is opened wide,
Hearts will mingle and walk with stride,
They pet and pet love set free,
Comforting under bright hot suns colossally,
That love that stare’s in the face,
Will make men whole on this earthly place,
Pollen blowing through the air,
Unleashed by pistols fired everywhere without despair,
To depart this world with seeds left behind,
A man’s lot is love immortal and she is kind.
I am the sequoia, standing still,
The universe from which galaxies spill.
I am sun, moon, the glitter of stars,
The unspoken word of monarchs and czars.
I am breath from beginning of time,
A man growing old reflecting in rhyme.
It's a bliss for a sole
to trample down a Soul.
I have this friend; a really great guy.
Always happy; always spry.
And then one day; he stopped and sighed.
His lips moved twice and his smile died.
I said "What's wrong", and I got real worried.
Until he told me of his ex who scurried.
We both got mad and it got mean,
but before we left;
nick-named his queen.
At first I listened to what he said.
But soon the swears had reached a head.
Only now I knew what he would scoff at.
We both yelled "Down!" to
ANNA THE PROPHET.
She talked about Jesus and of his dance.
Talked about locust and took a chance.
Shocked and surprised with each worried glance.
Made strangers as fast as United States' France.
She said let's be friends and left him alone.
Still calls him for coffee by way of the phone.
And if this sounds sweet, special or kind.
It's to drive her to work or she'll lose her mind.
My friend is a Saint and won't turn her down.
Hurting her feelings would knock off his crown.
And when they drive by, you'll tease them for sure.
Not for a coffee nor being to queer.
For turning his head, that they might get near.
My friend is a man. Don't be his judge.
All of his stories come with great grudge.
I know he is weak and tell him to stop it.
Not for a woman.
Anna the Prophet
An Alligator Poem of Course
Fed potent sweet potaters to some alligators
Who later in life liked to and became demonstrators
And will all swim along in water single file
When opening long mouth have a languishing smile.
Back and forth each one will wiggle long tail
While on wide back while wear many a scale
Big eyes out of water both are protruding
While branches and stumps will be eluding.
Alligators have own way of doing things
And with whole body each of them brings
An eye considered to be a constant rover
Always liking to look for a leftover.
An alligator never will want to alienate
Or while at it start to or try and agitate
Mouths become unruly like a rubber stamp
Putting impressions on you when down do clamp.
Sounds like a North Carolina Politician of one sort or another.
James Thomas Horn
Fear is the Titan that crushes you underfoot
Fear is the assassin that prefers things discreet
Masses are steamrolled by its incredible force
Silently it takes you down without ever showing its source
We are all subject to the power it wields
Some overcome, yet too many yield
Some face it with sheer determination
They see it as a source for true creation
Others buckle and break under its weight
Often realizing it can be overcome, years too late
It's up to you which side you will take
Will you take it upon yourself to fight or leave it up to fate?
This needs more translation
Chaotic, obscure creation
What Am I leading Up To.
You often will wonder what phrases mean,
Like a little lean or maybe even green;
You should try one on for size,
Or to me it might be a big surprise.
Things are turbulent underneath, not on surface;
Performance was like that of a three ring circus;
You should see me in my great auto gravure;
Compared to today was simple, plain and pure.
Run was made right down the middle
By player found to befit as a fiddle;
There might be some Obama trauma;
Should have ended with death of Osama.
Now new Congress is all nestled down
And word has been spread all over town,
Mighty Seahwaks met there greatest goal,
Which was to end up in the Super Bowl.
Sounds like they are starting a new trend;
When game will be tied at the end;
After so hard each one of them did try,
Pass landed in receiver's hands sent from the sky.
From sky view camera all of it could be seen;
Every player looked like a bouncing bean;
Outright owner whose first name is Tall Paul
Ended up with a big trophy and a game ball.
James Thomas Horn
The More You Do
It seems like forever it did snow
And there was no place left to go
So I did decide to stay in bed instead
And many more poems will have read.
I like the ones I understand the most
And to the poets do give this toast;
Here's to you and the poems you wrote
And all of the time you did devote.
Poetry, personally, has proven to me
That if better at it you want to be
There is no doubt and I'm sure its true
You will improve the more that you do.
I am not quite there yet, someday I may be,
A shining example, of what the world expects of me.
Once in a while I am angry, sometimes I get detached,
Often a little out of sync, but I feel there is a catch.
Every time I try to change, to what you want me to be,
The rules you play by always change, so for now I will remain me.
Cognitive ability beyond educated theory
The strive to know, the strive to grow
People like planets, grouped into galaxies
Knowledge constantly streaming, truths and fallacies
Misunderstanding turns into conflict
Religion tried to solve this, the results have been... mixed
Silly planet people don't they know that many galaxies make up one universe?
I know this message is mostly ignored but I will never cease to sing this verse
Lips burnt with translation,
searing into words.
Perfect little white flowers
dripping from the nectarine
tree. Roots looking out,
calling to the Goddess.
Praying to end gender bias,
soiled by religion.
I can hear the women sing
on a windy Winter's night.
I can hear the branches
plead for an early Spring.
HERE COMES THE IN SECURITY
VOICI L' INSECURITE
THAT WALKS GRADUALLY
QUI SE DEROULE UN PEU
SHE ENTERS THE STAGE
ELLE VIENT A L'ENDROIT
LIKE SICKNESS IN THE BODY
COMME LA MALADIE DU CORPS
RESEARCHERS MAKE RECOMMENDATIONS
LES CHERCHEURS FONT LEUR RECOMMENDATIONS
THE PARTICIPANTS REMAIN AKIMBO
LES PARTICIPANTS, AVEC LEUR POINGTS SUR LEUR HANCHES
THE EVENT INSECURITY
L' EVENNEMENT INSECURITE
PROFITABLE TO THE ACTIVE PARTICIPANTS
LUCRATIVES AUX PARTICIPANTS ACTIFS
THE WISDOM OF THE RESEARCHERS
LA SAGESSE DES CHERCHEURS
NOT PROFITABLE TO THE ACTIVE PARTICIPANTS
NON LUCRATIVES AUX PARTICIPANTS ACTIFS
THE PRIORITY OF THE WISDOM
LE PREMIER POINT DU SAGESSE
ENGAGE THE YOUTH
EMPLOYONS LES JEUNNEE
THE HUNTER LIKE AN INTERPRETER
LES CHASSEUR COMME UN TRADUCTEUR
BLOWN THE WHSTLE
DONNE UN COUP DE SIFFLET
GERINIA, GO BACK TO THE DRAWING BOARD
GERINIA,RETOURNE VITE A LA PLANCHE
Turn One More Page
With Republicans and Democrats, we are cursed
When we all truthfully, really are Americans first;
Might not agree with President's style and grace
But what would I try to do if I were in his place?
People, about things, have been known to gloat
And turned our President into a scapegoat;
To me it makes no difference what party he's in,
They still will blame him again and again.
There are also old Senators doing the same
By on our President placing all of the blame;
Republicans, his failure tried forcing to be;
All the trouble they started, can't they see?
A new proud President soon will be here,
And will he or she still have the same fear;
They may be popular and in high standing;
My only hope is that they have a safe landing.
So mere politics should be shoved aside;
All of those things which we had to hide
Will again be brought back to center stage
While in history have to turn one more page.
Let's be always gay
A poem about gratitude?
Here’s my attitude.
I will be quick to acknowledge it, true.
But I don’t want it, thank you.
People who feel gratitude feel they owe, must pay;
No one owes me anything, no way.
What I might do for someone is done free,
Unconditionally. It was necessary, so I did it, see?
If it had cost me too much,
If it risked my life or limb or such,
Maybe I wouldn’t have been the white knight. . . . .
But maybe I would anyway - if it was right.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .. . . . . . . . . . … . . . .. . . . .. . . .. .
For Nancy Jones’s Contest “Gratitude”
Idealists speak out all day
And wonder why the worlds this way;
They ask, why can’t we live in peace
Instead of being ill at ease;
Where all men live in harmony
And war is just a memory.
A realist responds in kind
I’m of a difference of mind.
I see all good and evil reign
Both equally in one domain.
Their efforts for a win must fail
The vying is to no avail.
Mans personality is split
Espousing both you must admit.
Wayward pilgrims scattered and lost
Frightened beings, low on rations, slowed by frost
Searching for the holy land they wandered astray
Despite prayers for help, they can't but doubt that they'll see another day
They left with so much zeal and hope, so much faith
They felt passion and mirth, they were convinced the lord would keep them safe
They no longer know where they are and the path to travel
Their spirits are tested, their sanity slowly begins to unravel
Some are lost to the thought that God is everything, nothing else exists
Others give in to base survival instincts as it becomes harder to resist
Crisis of the faithful, the beautiful and the damned
It's the answer to challenge that truly reveals every woman and man
Have To Die
While the world went spinning by
I wondered why the sky stayed dry
Help environment out, we all should try
Even if turning tides may be low or high.
Whole world is in disarray everyday;
Stars shine brightly in a brilliant display;
Heartache has brought on much dismay;
Sun still comes up and will go away.
Will worry when we have a storm warning,
All flowers with beauty are always adorning;
My coffee is ready for me each morning;
Contemptible people still keep scorning.
Skilled writers prepare poems and an anecdote;
Time to our true God we do daily devote;
When you sing poorly, we grab our throat
And if cold outside, we put on warm coat.
A bright butterfly will go flittering by;
We had to water grass when it was dry;
If food is needed, gracious God will supply,
Yet, eventually one day, still have to die.
James Thomas Horn
DARING TO COMPARE MODERN LIFE TO JOB
If you think it’s disrespect
And to me you do object
Remember each soul has its grief
Being judge is like a thief
How can one soul judge another
One will grieve the loss of mother
One will long for dying child
Neglected sister has gone wild
Each soul bears its crying pain
As ‘neighbors' keepers' we remain
Here to comfort those who suffer
Here to be their earthly buffer
As small children this we learn
but as we age so deftly spurn---
We're called to view each suffering face
And put ourselves in each one’s place.
Excessive and Depressive
If my ego attempts and tries to attack
Yours must try to give it some slack
When you discover it has been disturbed
My poor behavior should stop and be curbed.
Egos are roused as they become depleted
Constantly in conflict when not completed
Searching for some place to end up and go
While it will expand and continue to grow.
Unless they can come up with a cure
My manic ego must have to endure
Am so sorry when it becomes excessive
And result of emotions were all depressive.
James Serious Mysterious Horn
PS. Last one for the morning.
How many have I written so far
and what is easiest way to account
for total number of poems?
I’ve grown drained of wondering why I am
I stopped caring at fifty I believe
Taking each day if it were my last
Concerned not where I stand on the ladder
Looking about my material gains
Gathering dust for maid’s Friday dusting
No real purpose have they served me these years
Not to feed or provide me with much warmth
My prized possessions have no shape or form
They simply flutter about in my mind
Friendships are nice, but are they really, real
I’m much too competitive for best friends
Food and a blanket is all I require
Perhaps something to make a cozy fire
Being today’s civilized modern man
In society with my fellow kind
The whole thing makes me laugh a little
While looking at my mirrored reflection
I smile and turn away with a chuckle
Just go baby and remember to live
© Copyrights G. Jones 2006
Either Sown or Sewn
or Flower or Flour
Either it is to be sewn or sown
Which one should be left alone?
Maybe small seeds or some stitching
Back and forth we are always switching.
Sown seeds will soon start to grow
Flexible fingers become when you sew
So if I should sew or start to embroider
With what will me brain have to reconnoiter?
Into life itself some small seed will spring
And at all when we start to sew anything
A certain pattern will evolve and become
Like my many poems when you read some.
Are sewn and sown really, actually related
Both become building blocks of the educated
Still what you sew or sow will always reap
Even though bills have started piling steep.
James Thomas Horn
Pegasus of thy night
Take me away from this eartly plight
Lay down your golden reigns
Let me climb aboard your mythical train
Stars and moon's cresant's dance
Illuminating to others who gets this chance
Gold dust sprinkles in your hair
Closed eyes for take me there
Up Up and away we go
Pegasus take it nice and slow
Lustrious valleys and sno-capped peaks
Sparkling blue waters for which I seek
Just you and me my mountain friend
Taking this journey till the very end
As I lay my head upon your shoulders
For I feel their turning so much colder
Cannot feel from my head to foot
This dust sprinkle had turn to soot
I'm decending fast and furious
Woke up from dream being more curious
agog amongst fog,
he was in bog,
like a bloody dog.
Stop writing the same thing again and again
Find a different theme and create anew my friend
Don't be predictable, don't allow your intellect to trick you into pretentious suffocation
Become a know it all before have it figured out and the world will leave you behind, leaving you with frustration
Point being? Always ask why? Curiosity is the key to life
Ask questions, solve problems, try to make things right
Positivity is truly a connection a flowing energy
We all serve a function, flowing into symmetry
We're regressing now because we're all distracted
We haven't found the universal problem that will attract us
Asking questions can get you far
Nevertheless, can’t answering those questions get you further?
A ditch along you path to adulthood,
The prevention of a taught ketchup sachet
Inquisitive, knowledgeable minds?
Real off lists of special features demanded
For a great mind,
Like the unknown animal rights protestor
Who just saved an innocent living life?
The degree to which avoiding your struggles are essential?
Why not fall; you shall experience the consequence,
Alternatively, is naivety the achievement of greatness?
Finding the cure for cancer,
Rather than seeing its label – knowing its ingredients
Either, possibly could determine a great mind?
Thinking and a response of planning an image and processing physically
Maturity beyond your years
An enchanting sunset that you capture the youth of…
Before it travels silently to the other four corners of the world.
Black and White, colour, diversity of belief,
Opinion, well known to all is the significance of personal view,
Thus expansion of knowledge leading to the engagement of opinion.
Diversity in a cultural sense all coded in a great mind,
Who…invented a ‘great mind’?
Relatively the faith we have in one another that the world economy won’t collapse.
Everyone can wake up tomorrow as a developed race
Who can be the judge to say what is great when all humanity wants the same,
The thinker in us all,
A soldier whose adrenalin crushes through their bodies as children scream, and blood is abused as
a sign of a victor.
A great mind, is daunting and powerful beyond ones control.
The thought of such depth and meaning, proving impossible for others to merely comprehend –
Even be a reason for a ‘great mind’?
With hammers and get rich schemes
He ravished the mountains and polluted the streams
And never recorded at what cost
He paid for paradise lost
All prophets are like our father
And their wives are like our mother.
All of the Past Delete
Are there actual abilities in your soul?
It remains sinless and always whole;
Things outside of our soul commit sin
Which is done over and over again.
Between soul and sin is a separation
And continues in process of preparation
For us to heaven which we will glide
All else is thrown away and left aside.
The soul is that single, simple thing
God back to Him wants to bring;
All else far away will be caste
As it all becomes part of the past.
About our past, God could care less
So He has instructed you to confess
Sins of burden on body He will remove
And yourself to Him never have to prove.
Why do we become complacent and growl?
Stop praying to God and pitch in towel
All of the answers we soon will know
When to heaven we eventually go.
By then my friend, it never matters at all;
Am now in heaven after hearing God's call
And what He said when me did great,
" You're with me and all of the past delete."
James Thomas Horn
Behind the door what does happen?
Behind the door what is hidden?
Until any one's door is closed,
the things there, are not exposed.
Of privacy in life, the right I seek.
My friends want, the right to peep.
I keep my door closed for security
That enhances neighbour's curiosity.
Whatever is there, to make the pep
You cannot put forward the step.
Onto the other side of a closed door,
unless you have the lien of yours.
If you want other's doors remain
for you to step into, any time open.
Keep your door open for them,
who needs you and for friends.
(C) S.D. Tiwari
With muse in hand
How do I make one understand
I love colors of shaded green
Does not make me nasty or mean
For it's in our lakes
And even in things that we bake
It 's canvass for our trees
Even sometimes stains on our knees
There's hues of bladed grass
Where we have all plop our ass
Even passing clouds
Looking purified and aloud
So here I'll stand and raise a toast
To the color green on money who everyone loves the most
Related and Syncopated
There are things which are related
While also some which are syncopated
And right on time being in the grove
Creating an experience which will move.
Music and poetry are highly related
And can be considered as consolidated
Which will end up in complete unison
And then end up starting over again.
Eventually your mind always does grow
And you will end up being in the know;
So you should read my poems and digest
To determine which one is the best.
who loves ya baby
hmmm now let me see
I know my mommy did
even though her shoes I did hid
I think my daddy did
when I didn't make him snid
brothers and sisters well maybe just a little
when I didn't get in the middle
my grandpa and grandma surely does
for I'll do anything for them just because
I know my little girl loves her momma
even better than president Obama
my dogs and cats loves me
even if they continue to make me sneeze
even my close friends new and old still spark the love
for we will alway's go on and well above
paperboy surely does
cause I tip him for keeping my paper out of bushes and shrubs
milkman used to
when I didn't make him shu
bill collectors oh yes
for I'm their baby who they love the best
so who loves me
well lets just continue to see
Tribute To Love
Also Entry For
Who Love's Ya Baby Contest
Here, take my gun
Do you like it here on the road?
On second thought, I will take that back
I might need it in the next town
I like your blue scarf
Do you love biting down on it?
No, the blood is from a poem
It has nothing to do with this world
You can’t stay with me
That would rob me from my destiny
The dessert is the teller
It will clean our teeth and fade our hair
I was watching you
Through my compass and decided you were East
I knew at that moment
The well had gone dry forever today
Sometimes I see the world
Like it was crystal clear with no illusions
I’m sorry I disturbed you
Have a nice day and hope that you never meet me
For I saw the portrait of your soul
I found how they ripped your essence and on it urinated
Spill you father’s vodka down your throat
It might medicate your tortured and blackened heart
Your nothing but a painted clown
Hoping to deceive and finally win an easy life
Here, take my gun
I love it on this road
Appear to be Hep
I suppose it wasn't written in prose
When it never, ever smoothly flows
Or in poetry which was rhyming,
And none were thrilled with its timing.
On people, I seem to be chiming in;
Think about where poem should begin
Maybe come up with an added feature
But I never was an English teacher.
What you have seen surely will get
Get ready, go and in between is set
Will all of my poems appear to be hep?
If I were the one who skipped a step.
James Serious Mysterious Horn
Can anyone tell me how to remove a poem
that I have accidentally listed twice or three
times by mistake? My total list of poems just
went past 800 but some are duplicates.
Thanks. Jim Horn
as I lie in this womb
for it's my heart you'll hear beat soon
da beat beat beat
and da tapping of tiny feet
was my mighty sword
words of disgrace
embedded in my taste
drug of ill fath
served on my plate
you have rather me died
than to hear my wimper and cries
I could of made you proud
instead of being wrapped in this tiny shroud
now I am someone else's angel
wearing a nice shinny golden halo
as my unspoken words goes out to you
I hope your next child won't have to go through this too
Tribute To The Unborn
Unspoken Words Contest
I think of mountains moved and souls crushed
I think of hurdles cleared and dreams rushed
I think of battles won and the lives that were lost
I think of the first exhale on a cold winter night and all the intentions seized by frost
I ask am I worthy to reach the top?
I don't know, but it's better than staying here to rot
I stare into the dark abyss
Midnight ice; a wicked hiss
Wading through the solemn storm
Deepest depression takes its form
Shattered promises and lost dreams
Happiness torn apart at its seams
Phantoms dance gleefully in the hail
They knew that your life would derail
Was it not they who hid in your mind?
Whispering their assurances, all will be fine
Perhaps today this wasn't the case
Hot salty tears trail down your face
An answer to the winter wind
Leaving fear with those who've sinned
Enveloped finally by sweet surrender
Inside fades a dull ember
Giving in, succumbing to midnight entrapment
Heaviness descends, of course... nothing can happen
Under the moon light we dance, complete
We, the chaotic, who seldom sleep,
Sauntering strangely the way between,
Compelled by only our wildest dreams,
The wind is whipping through my hair,
Reminding me that I wish you were there,
But I keep on dancing with the dream brood,
Partaking of the sweetest elaisian food,
But, though we are so wild and free,
I find myself missing a part of me,
You remain home, as I walk this line,
And I now return to find you’re still mine.
Just because you have no home,
Does not make you any less,
You are still apart of this human race,
Whether you live in a mansion or a mess.
It’s such a shame to see your life go down the drain,
But you still hang in there strong,
You drench in the cold rain,
While singing your hopeful song.
I sometimes think of what you would have been like before,
I suppose no different to who you are today,
Material possessions can't make you any more,
They just get in the way.
It’s not in my hands to rescue you,
Though I wish it could be,
Remember I’m the one who is trapped,
And you are the one who is free.
At least now you know the value of a stone,
The pricelessness of a crumb,
The fear of being alone,
Facing the end, if it shall ever come.
But one day your dreams shall build your home,
Then your sleepless fearful nights will be gone,
But in the mean time you keep hanging on.
It needs a great brain to think perfect!
It needs a big heart to love perfect!
The reason that Hicks ain't O'Reilly is 'cause he don' wanna be.
The reason O'Reilly ain't Hicks is 'cause he lacks capacity.
World Peace with a Whirl
What things make your mind start to spread?
Out and broaden while hearing what was said
Through the clammer and constant commotion
Mixed in with my love and much devotion.
When not prejudiced and unbiased you are
In all of the world, you will go infinitely far,
But if both are missing or lack one of these
This will prevent happiness caressed with world peace.
Don't take any of this lightly that I may say
For I hope soon there will come a day
When we will pray together on bended knees
And start reaping the rewards of world peace.
What is mine to wonder why?
Alone to think and feel alive.
To ask this question time and again,
To beg for that which I cannot obtain.
Universally selfish we want to know,
Which way is it that I will go?
To hope and pray without delay,
That I alone will be shown the way.
blip pa de dip pa de - bop
the pig roots in the slop
the slop got worse
the pigs in a hearse
he didn't know when to stop!
With you, I am well-agreed
Once you will sow one seed
Like life will come and go by
Began born and one day do die.
Now if some time I will take
What can become when I make
An acquaintance and give a gift
God my spirit He will uplift.
PS. If you never know how
Would you now be a sow?
given all of the pertinent facts
I wonder why we grind the axe
to prove our point of pointed dismay
that things should be the other way
and furthermore we pointedly assume
no change of course will spell out doom
to all we value and hold so dearly
the end of the world we know, or nearly
that axe to grind so smooth and keen
can slice out dissent to intervene
and change our differing conversations
to gulfs of animosity and altercations
so you'd better shape up and repent
see my wisdom and give your consent
to change it 'round to another leaning
instead of finding ways of demeaning
not my point, or my position, but me
and interrogate me with a third degree
as if my merely saying to you "ok, ok"
would be sufficient to have your own way
in the course of humanity's day-to-day
any view is from point-of-view, my way
so make sure before you grind your axe
against my thoughts, my ideas, my facts
that tree you want to cut down to size
might just be the log within your eyes
© Goode Guy 2011-07-19
notable that sarcasm rhymes with chasm, no h.
If you learn about the left,
You learn about the right.
If you learn about the sun,
You will learn about the moon at night.
As above, so below,
are the wise words once told.
Until modern civilization,
Fell victim to a new control.
A Dragon meets a Doe in the woods, intending to kill
The Doe asks the Dragon “if you kill me, what would be the thrill?”
Consumed with rage the Dragon responded, "I’m mighty and you’re weak"
The Doe queried “how can you consider yourself powerful when you feed on the meek?”
Angrier still the Dragon roared “I’m the master my environment and I decide fate!”
The Doe answered calmly “you seem to be consumed by fear and hate.”
“Hate you have right but fear is ridiculous, I fear nothing!”
“That’s impossible, hate’s in all of us as is fear, it’s all part of being.”
The Dragon bellowed “I’m above all, I destroy, I consume!”
“Yet we all start from the same place, we all come from a womb.”
“What’s your point? I grew into something stronger!”
The Doe looked off into the distance “If the strong helped the weak, we’d all survive longer…”
The Dragon incinerated the Doe and flew off with the carcass, perpetuating the cycle of what do we die for?
Do you ever wonder what it would be like?
To take flight into the night?
Where there exists no light,
and only stars in sight.
Where the stresses of life aren't strapped on so tight.
Where people's insights aren't so uptight,
and aren't focused on if your "black" or "white."
Where the strongest man has no might,
and where the laws of justice have no right.
There is a simple fact in life that I understand
The size of the heart is the worth of the man
I once was a man who had a little bit of wealth
Though I was very worthless up inside of myself
Thought I was smarter than the average guys
It was just another spoonful of the devil’s lies
Sacks of dope that were the size of a small suitcase
With an endless amount of money that I could waste
But to just stay happy it took every bit of it all
Soon as I got back home another girl would call
To big a whore to ever be strong enough to say no
Let me get the shower hot, do a shot, and then we can go
I had all the happiness and dope that money could buy
I could never think about stopping because of the high
I had to keep running I could never even try to slow
Because I had a shattered heart and a very barren soul
“You got it right”, and then one day I met my wife
The everlasting, never ending, true love of my life
We didn’t slow right away she just stayed at my side
Only person I ever met that could go stride for stride
But like all things in life it suddenly came to an end
I completely confessed to the burdens of all of our sins
The Police let everyone go free and I was back in the pen
I guess once again I found I cared a little too much to win
My lessons and changes in this life have been so very vast
Letting one dream completely go made another one last
The lesson in is this poem from the first word to the last
If you want to love the future make the best use of the past
The hardest thing I ever learned, really gave me my start
Way to Judge the true size of a man, “How big is his heart”
Even though this poem was written in regards to my
wife and I, my wish is to dedicate it to all the fellers
on the site that have hearts of gold as well as those
ladies who have husbands or boyfriends with hearts of
Gold. In fact even though it is written from a mans
perspective I reckon it would also apply to the Ladies
who also have pure beautiful hearts. Took me a lifetime
to learn this I took great pride in being mean and cruel
until the day The Lord set me free and opened up my
heart. We all choose our own path and making the most
of it is all we can do. If one of you decides to stay off
the road I was on, Each of our paths will brighten cause
the Lord never fails though he does test which of course
makes us that much stronger. God Bless, MJ
Gotta go down to Heaven's Jublee store
To buy a speical gift for the one I adore
Doesn't matter if it's big or small
She won't care at all
Just as long it comes from me
I know she'll be totaly happy
Jenny is her name
So I have to think of something insane
Maybe a doll
Or some kind of ball
I know it's gotta be pink
Or she'll think it will stink
She loves the moon and stars
And how they twinkle from the galaxe so far
So maybe something glittery
For someone else to come see
Awe there you are
Hiding under barbies car
Aw shucks only one left
Someone could call this a theft
A bargin deal on this star shaped pillow
To rest her little head under our wheeping willow
Now to give it a name
Not to name it would be such a shame
So I'll call it my little princess of the stars
Because it fits her boldness by far
Kitty of Kitten
If you were only a little kitten
Would poems about you be written
Like gave him all the love that she could,
So he would end up being good.
Love is best when will be everlasting;
According to what friends are forecasting
We should treat each other with much care
And a little love here and much more there.
If you happen to be a poor pitiful kitty
Who on often people will try to take pity,
A new movement should be started and led
All about love and how it should be spread.
After we will work out each kink, what do you think,
Missed find missing link, because both eyes did blink.
James Thomas Horn
Whether were together ,or whether we're apart
it doesn t matter, we're connected at the heart!
McCuen Copyright October 2008
I need poetry right now, not this, reality beyond reason
We shovel the shit, waste the resources, despite the season
What is life without creative purpose?
The equivalent of dull in the excess
A factual interpretation of a story already told
Nothing left to the imagination, reality has too tight of a hold
What are we without dreams of something better?
We don’t get the point but we can remember the script letter for letter
Where is the passion behind all those blank stares?
We get conflict yet we lack the knowledge to truly care
It doesn’t seem right, it doesn’t seem fair
That’s life though, we get what we get and that’s the fare
You can’t create life without suffering; passion is sparked by pain
Yet so many waste this spark, working in vain
Trying to please those above them
Is that the point, to serve another human to reach heaven?
It’s a twisted climb to “purity”
The logic can be explained but we don’t truly see
Back to Heaven Again
What we want is for love and sensibility
Both to last a whole lifetime into infinity
Problems solved and an answer render
Which never requires any legal tender.
Realize God above is our one and only
Who supports you when down and lonely
Will take our hand and then leads us on
So we will find success in each new dawn.
Don't let us foolishly around be dashing
Or needlessly many others we are trashing
Know God is near and always available
Causes economy and rough seas to be stable.
Always glad each time when His spirit is near
And us on straight and narrow, he will steer
Retrieve when lost or deep in a lion's den
In end, help us return back to heaven again.
Jame Thomas Horn
After you read poem put your name in the comments
section so I can see who is reading my poems. You
can leaver the rest of it blank. Thanks.
there's something now in America's room
to give us a sense of uncommon gloom
may be a smart guy, a financial advisor
with a hundred minus 99 an uncommon divisor
the room's haves, still have, the not, don't
99 of a hundred want redress, 1 other won't
is the Right right? does the Left remain?
has all of America gone a little insane?
do the Occupy folks occupy this room's hearts
do citizen's lives jerk on in fits-n-starts?
at their tea party did Alice and the Hatter
sip cool-aid or tea, or really know the matter
with all the other people, or too, themselves,
red queen, a rabbit, maybe a few dozen elves
is it right to just shout "off with their heads!"
shouldn't we consider a more humane way instead
acknowledge that we all have some common good
to better care for each other, at least we should
Johnny Appleseed knew well what the future held
so he planted for generations to come and dwell
under a tree of life, growing our tree of mankind
tying us to our brothers would knots that align
there's plenty of shade under one nation's tree
with our common good a precedent, a standard to be
© Goode Guy 2012-01-20
The evolutionary advantage, and tragic flaw of man,
is the weight and scope of his own thought span;
The world we got brought into
Way to easy for anyone to see through
These bars represent the problems and the verse represent the time
Too many mistakes and it'll leave us all behind
Even the words set in motion
Can cause problems that are oceans
Defying and lying to realize
The problems i see with these real eyes
The people today? So hateful and jaded
Memories of innocence and happiness becoming so faded
This isn't a basket, Problems cant be covered with lids
We cant run from the stupid things we did
Peoples vision of the world will flex and bend
Possibly soon somehow this world will end
The richest? Already have a good plan out
What am i supposed to do? Sit and pout? Or may I stand and shout?
Birds in flight coo's
Sun's hot passion
Valleys of green
Eagles that speaks
Call of the wild
Echoes of a lost child
Can't seem to wake
From this dormate faith
Have no fear
For vision is clear
Arrived at Heaven's shore
Was woken though by husband's dam snore
Who is a king
without a crown?
Or a great music performer
without a listening audience
A cocktail party
without cheerful guests?
What is beauty
without a beholder?
A work of art
without an admirer?
What is wealth
without none to share?
A joke , a story
without no one to hear and laugh?
And what is life
without no one to live with?
Who am I
My eyes without your sight
My mouth without your ears?
without your fond memories and living thoughts
without your presence and absence
Who am i without you?
For I am, because you are.
(This poem expresses the oneness and interrelatedness of the human race; in
Swahili: Ubuntu, It is Ujamaa)
Matched Each Other
While often writing and here waiting
Wondering what my mind should be relating
To some subject which will be the best
People will love forever and never detest.
Why won't poets, a comment try to make
Afraid it may cause much pain and heartache;
Worry them about my poems I have chosen
How poorly is their start as well as closing.
Many prophets and poets prefer profane
But to me this simply is only mundane
Off many walls, paths and out of thin air
With an outrageous attitude of I don't care.
Then there are tanks referred to as septic
Like poems put together that are epic
Unless writer will start paving the way
And preparing us for what he has to say.
We always grow older when age increases
And now can only absorb bits and pieces
So take your time and small doses send
Every thing will start to blend in the end.
Much of this might be subject to debate
How long does green poet have to hesitate
Before we are attracted by his anxiety
Which we have appeased by our sobriety.
Could go on and on and on even more
I like and prefer poem but you deplore
Maybe with my efforts will start to gamble
What is needed for my poems to unscramble?
End up with simple case of pick and choose;
Add more to the deluge and it can confuse;
Will follow each poet's card game golden rule
Look out for loaded deck and don't lose your cool.
Once the ground, you gently start to land
And adorable horizon just have scanned
What came your way was only fair weather
Now that minds and poems are matched together.
James Thomas Horn
I don't anticipate or expect any comments regarding
this poem. Only one super duper poetry souper will
understand what I am referring to and talking about
and coming from. Won't you?
It doesn't really matter in th end,
If you are black or white, rich or poor,
Or if you are a regular Joe or a celebrity,
Bad things, and suffering can happen to anyone,that's for sure.
The human spirit can sometimes too much endure,
It can be yours or mine in a corner very obscure,
Our bodies and souls can take so much for a awhile,
But in the end it could take its toll too much trials
There's a timetable and a clock somewhere always ticking,
So let's not forget that wounds take a long time healing,
God made our body, mind, soul to be resilient in time of trouble,
But doesn't mean to ignore them and so make them for us double
So in the end it doesn't really matter who you are,or where you go,
Tragedy, pain and death can happen to anyone, anytime, I just know.
Dorian Petersen Potter
An IOU or
Changing of the Guard
For things to be swell, does your head have to swell?
And always have to be bright to ring the bell
When you do it a special to buy will appear
After a person has made it perfectly clear.
It takes two fingers in one hand to form a "V"
Which of course you know stands for Victory
And long ago a situation kept on demanding
We ended up having a Normandy landing.
No matter how things are or may be hard
They still have a changing of the guard;
If in America up many things want to spruce
Wait until a program will economically induce.
Each country has their own characteristic
But the one which makes me become ballistic
Was a case by Scott which many at time dreaded
Why now do people have to be beheaded?
"Off with his head," it once was often said
Now look at where this comment has led
A bunch of sorry, lame losers literally to do;
I personally myself recommend an "IOU."
James Thomas Horn
Without Any Delay
To write poems am always ambitious
They are like food which is nutritious
Put words together and start to cook
Until they expand and become a book.
Favorite poet of people have started being
Much more in myself am now believing
By my poems, you are nourished and fed;
Never will I ever let it go to my head.
Could my poems become a cliff hanger
Or have been known to be a head banger
My poetry writing will continue to persist
And you will find them hard to resist.
What subject in each poem do you prefer?
So what if you never knew for sure
Love your poems want to hear people say
Go out and buy them without any delay.
James Thomas Horn
Wet My Entire Pants
If into your back I sank my claws
Do you think you could give to the cause
After both of my claws were released
Would your dead body be properly policed.
If some body must love another body sometime
Where and when in am I supposed to chime
And after long look I must be admitting
None of your poor clothes are properly fitting.
After finding myself out on a long limb
Should we do the shimmy, boogaloo or swim
Or trying to do some other song and dance
After we did a duet wet my entire pants.
Will Robin Williams Be Heaven Bound
To whole world, this had been quite a big blow;
Off to heaven, will Robin be bound to and go;
Instantly, body be buried after being prepped,
For God in heaven to successfully accept.
Beliefs people have often seem so strange;
Things are called emotionally and mentally derange;
Going to heaven, how should this affect your approach
Or on others thoughts and beliefs, does this encroach.
Not following procedure and being properly prepared
May make some people worry while others are scared;
So gracious God who I pray to each and every day
Please go ahead and take his fine soul anyway.
James Thomas Horn
The sun went to rest beyond the hills
and out came moon to enhance his skills
Holding his baby tight in his hands
stareing down others that enter their land
why did the sun leave and go yonder
where it's unloved I stand and ponder
I can barely see the other side
but this man dosen't run and hide
our fears some how make us stand strong
even though I know it shall lead to wrong
shadows approach and soon take face
not many could see how his heart raced
but I was so close I could have touched
his eyes were scared he shook so much
could his only love end every foe
he stood alone and this I do know
he was ready to go, ready to die
His fate was sealed before he was born
possesing the face of the truly scorn
I closed my eyes and then it happend
in one blink a session of cappin
I stood where I'd been to see it all
he was still standing, I knew he'd fall
blood flowed and it formed to my feet
a touch from a man fell by the heat
on the other side how many were dead
were their streets painted in the color red
When the sun rose it was red as warning
that the night had brought reason for mourning
every bullet fired did damage
nine men fired nine ended in madness
The Truth Shall Set You Free,
No Doubt, I truly do agree,
But too much truth can tear the soul,
If souls aren’t ready to hear it.
I timely lie can heal the self,
And leave the soul to introspect,
Then such truth can come from God,
And shame won’t be down like a rod,
So share the truth, whether good or bad, but always with good reason,
Cause yes the truth shall set you free, but everything in its season.
Once there was a man that thought he could write.
Within his mind, he wavered a terrible fight.
Only he knew; weathered writes that could define.
Not of madness or failure or even that of wine,
He studied persons that flowed around his state.
Not criticizing or judging, learning from the wait.
His thoughts and words sometimes thought raw.
His mind hiding secrets though never to fall,
His findings revealed; a secret everyone held.
Without a secret, no life would be compelled.
Each human has a Devil and Angel that hides.
Which one wins the battle to which all confides?
When the words fly outward from within his soul,
Holding reprimands of dysfunction without any goal.
Was he a writer, poet, philosopher not so trite.
What feelings drove him in his positioned flight?
His mind wondered in and out of existence defined.
Within his mind, he wavered a terrible fight combined.
If it don’t make dollars, it don’t make sense,
Because ain’t nothing going on but the rent.
They Are the Best
Many times I wondered whether or not
All my precious poems I have sought
Would a poet laureate make me one day
Of either state or our country, it just may.
An artistic poet someone once called me,
The way I write and arrange my poems to be;
Verbs used and way they are conjugated
And with the subject, how I have related.
Poems, like writing, about love and life;
Maybe with grief containing some strife;
Humor also is a subject I write about;
Think of world's troubles and all its doubt.
Poets may interpret my poems as strange;
How sentence with subject and verb, I arrange
And often have put my poems to the test;
People prefer mine and of all say they are the best.
James Thomas Horn
People in conversations raise frustrations
Some in communications cause tribulations
The true love of your heart
Now where shall I start
Mine comes for ones that are lost in storms
Or for children who heart's thats been ripped and torn
One may even say I had opened many doors
To let the homeless sleep on maple floors
Or they may say you were the one to spare a dime
But have commited no other such crimes
Then theres another that may say just get out of their way
And you reply with only have such a lovely day
For there shall be no love of another
Like your love you held for my passed sister and brothers
And that heart that was sewen unto you
Was woven by God's holy hands of skew
So the true love of your heart
Is what brought me here from the very start
Tribute To My Jenny Rose
Mama Loves You Peanut
Also Entry For Michael Jorden's
Inside The Heart Contest
Become More Diligent
Good poems will read and better mine will get
When great poets like you on Poetry Soup let
Become my great guide as I am growing
Ending up with amount of my poems over-flowing.
Not only that, a perfect example you set
For me to follow and even far better yet
With each of God's poems, I am impressed;
Love each one and constantly have caressed.
Which poem at Poetry Society should I read?
To fulfill a woeful want while meeting a need
And take heed when you are just like some
Whose ego and heads to high have become.
So my poems are thoughtful and never naughty
And hoping I haven't become too haughty;
Time quickly arrived swiftly passing by and went;
God, guide me in writing my poems more diligent.
What We Should Spend
As all of our struggles go on and on
Do you think on us it will ever dawn,
If God we had worshipped each day,
He would be in each that I did say.
Each one would be meaningful with love
And of all else, you must realize above,
If it wasn't for God, we would never be
As well as differences between you and me.
So God help me bare the bruising brunt;
Give me only what I need and not want
Time with each other should start to spend;
God, bring back world peace and to us lend.
Instead of trying to impress everyone with
All of our much and abundant money.
James Thomas Horn
Dreading up the past
when the past has left us behind
Dredging up the past
when it insists on being left buried
Fledgling future is waiting to be born
when death refuses to let go of life's big toe
Pledging the future to be more forgiving
when memory works all to well for the living.
Wonder Where It Went
Time passed by and wonder where it went
Along with other things God had sent
Past is no longer here and has gone
Yet there still will be another new dawn.
Of me, what has God really expected
Would be nice if He was always respected
Even if I found a friendly frog on a log
Spell God backwards and it becomes dog.
Dog days we have when God is not there
Our hearts and souls, He handles with care
When it is God who we needed and wanted
Down like a bird must He have to be hunted.
God's like a door that does constantly revolve
Puzzles and mysteries for you He can solve
So you can always arrive at a right conclusion
Don't avoid God or expose Him to exclusion.
James Thomas Horn
Poems Become Splendid
Reading my impressive poems and what you might do
Is send me an elegant comment after you view
After each one you have tried to select;
Give me thoughts and ideas and ways to correct.
Search through my poems than try to behoove,
Style and way which I write, I can improve;
You can either be macro-viewed or specific;
Then I can make each poem become terrific.
No one's feelinings would I ever want to hurt;
Like when wife hated my dirty, well-worn shirt;
After further thinking, my poem I have ended;
Tell me how I can make my poem become splendid.
PS. Feelinings are for those who are ninnies.
Of which I'm sure there may be many's.
Wow, an artistic poet. How about that?
James Thomas Horn
When I sing
I sing for Him
When I rise
I rise for Him
When I bow
I bow for Him
When I seek
I seek for Him
When I ask
I ask for Him
When I shine
I shine for Him
When I crumble
I crumble for Him
When I yearn
I yearn for Him
Maybe Gospel Song
Let Me Know
Kathy & Jenny
Trying to figure out this way that I feel
I'm a dark banana; whole world is my peel.
Sunshine without light, my soul is heavy
More clouds and tears of rain, break my minds levee.
I'm always in darkness- most of the time down
The guy who always laughed wears only a frown.
If I could peel away this shell of disgust
Blow away these dark clouds of hate and mistrust.
This layer of skin that sheds so easily
Goes away designed, not to end pleasingly.
Ended up in trouble and can't be denied;
Was only opening up from deep inside
Expressing what my opinion had been
Which ended up being a mortal sin.
As you read a poem you start to think
Should it be thrown the kitchen sink;
What had been applied forced rhyme;
Some people try to do it all the time.
Out several things had started to scope;
Should never be giving out false hope
And to me it always is very essential
Poor performance when no potential.
Had gotten in trouble on occasion before
End result was making some people sore
What they asked everyone what we thought
Into a trap and net I had been caught.
Why are poetry people willing to gamble
When together words surely seem to scramble
And merely much attention trying to obtain
Ending up driving us precariously insane.
It might sound like either off cuff or in cup
But can a can of worms soon be opening up
That maybe should have remained closed
And what was assumed, we also supposed.
Good God, why try to take people for granted;
Many perfectly potent pills may be planted
And through each poem, I will start to browse
Maybe more around I should start to carouse.
Another thing is required that I want to mention
Ranks are unruly when there is much dissension
Put poem in any washer then out have wrung
And check out guy to see if horrendously hung.
Then I really started putting my mind to task;
Wondered what now should I begin to ask;
To improve a Super Souper what is required?
Thought provoking questions by someone newly hired.
James Thomas Horn
I had started searching here and there
Trying to locate and find beyond compare
And from where had originated each word
How much longer must the pot be stirred?
Would world ever have a possibility
That if I were to try and find tranquility
And have peace and quiet in my direction
I could come up with a possible connection.
How much longer would I have to wait
Before premises and property had to vacate
After I had started to both read and look
In each and every book and cranny and crook.
Then a thought I came up with and created
Are beyond compare and infinity neatly related?
After further research though out my whole mind
Guess what!!!??? Decided to call each one undefined.
My blessed heart
Where shall I start
I thank my dear Lord
For being my mighty sword
For fighting these demons within
Who try to make me faulter or sin
I thank the Heavenly angels above
For bringing me someone new to love
I thank family and friends
For showing me how to fight till the end
I feel blessed for the air I breath
Even if it tends to make me sneeze
I feel blessed to watch my child grow
For she still loves the way I kiss her fingers and toes
So when I'm feeling so down and blue
I recant back to things of being so brand new
So thanks to others whom I pass on these blessings
For the Lord will alway's do his own testing
Who You May Favor
Trying to inspire is what I want to do
So start sticking to my poems with glue
Have you heard of a perfect example before
If mine would that ever make you sore?
When you want to see a lightening pin
You can forget about letting me in
And this may be my worst downfall
Many say I don't have any talent at all.
Poems eventually roll off of my tongue
No matter how many words may be sung
It may be hard every time I have tried
And I still ended up getting tongue-tied.
Which way does my humor have to be?
And here we are living in a democracy
Regardless of who you may ever favor
I still want Jesus as my Lord and Savior.
James Thomas Horn
To only itself will silence speak
To us, it may sound rather weak
Or never have heard it at all
Doesn't care who it will appall.
Rushing in silence may often try
But now has gone and passed by
No longer again will it ever last
Has become part of previous past
Silence so stern where have you been
When I was trying to let you in
No matter where you currently are
Should I try seeking silence from a star?
James Thomas Horn
PS. I touched it up a bit
so certan places would fit.
It seems to be becoming quite customary
When something outside in you must carry
A person will be polite and open the door
And never ask why or what it is for.
Being humble in lives plays a big part
And thankful too wouldn't hurt for a start;
When both humble and thankful intertwine
Pleasantries in life will make us feel fine.
Why do people adore and at times ignore?
When what they should do is explore
Searching for new ways of doing things
And imagine curiosity all of this brings.
James Thomas Horn
Where is it that we go, behind closed eye lids?
An untouchable imagination, beyond the physical and off the grid?
Where is it that they go, in man made machinery to the sky?
A place unseen but seen, and gravity is what they defy?
Will Find A Cactus
Out in middle of desert may find a cactus
Standing all alone never needing to practice
Like a curve ball arching and never straight
And never has to worry about being late.
With cactus will have to learn a new trick
Pick up carefully and it will not prick
With arms high in air is always standing
Being held up for cash by someone demanding.
As it starts to turn dark as twilight nears
Silhouette looks like one of the Musketeer's ears
Read some more after a nap you just took
Eventually will reach end of the story book.
James Thomas Horn
Forrest from the Trees
By both parties have become completely deluded
And in neither one do I want to be included;
Trust and confidence in them has been at a loss
When with both bigotry and bias, they come across.
What about poor politics are we supposed to think?
With a beleaguered economy starting to sink;
Now unemployment rate is down and employment rising
And Standard and Poor's going up which is surprising.
Not only that, inflation is slowly declining
Yet everyone in Congress seems to be whining,
After in mid-East there had been a beheading
We need minds to be marrying after a wedding.
First thing is thank God it was not you or me;
Start praying to God more and constantly
And start doing it again on bended knees,
Then can tell the forest from all of the trees.
Writing poems is just what I did realize;
Will be all part of a mind exercise;
Words together will start linking;
Makes you begin to start thinking.
It also really is a quite nice activity
Ending up producing word subjectivity
And another thing I am starting to find
Is strengthens and broadens your mind.
Of life, has to do with each station
And will try to establish a correlation
Of the things you are writing about
And take, which one will be the route.
To my mind, comes one more confession
Hope is not part of a obsessive-compulsive obsession;
After having heard each word and its sound
With your mind will start playing around.
Both your teeth and mouth will chatter
And you spring up to see what is the matter
And for find out what had been hard fought
To start an interest and create a thought.
In essence, I hope you are prepared for this one
And all of the very things that I have done
Which is trying Poetry Soup to be promoting
While my mind and time have been devoting.
Back to POETRY CONTEST Discussions
A is for apple that I ate at lunch
B is for baseball I want to hit over fence a bunch
C is for cheery which can be and always am
D is for delightful in way I say Yes and No Ma'am
E is for effort I effectively give out a lot
F is for the food you find in my thought
G is for gregarious and is that really me
H is for Horn and High society
I is for idiosyncrasies that in my poems should be
J is for James a fisherman who went out to sea
K is for Kismet which I never did see
L is Lea my mother-in-law more often should see
M if is for the many modest poems I will write
N is for when I am finished and say good night
O is for orderly which never was my way
P is for poems I write and play I do everyday
R is for romance which my poems avoid
S is sometime when people sure are annoyed
T is for thermometer and also translation
U and V are my wife united in a vacation
W is for want, will wound and whatever
Z is for zipping through with all of my endeavor
So suppose your alphabet looked just like mine
Would you go in business making up a valentine,
Or guess what I even have one better yet
I am glad though PnP that we all have met.
James Thomas Horn
On One Day, It Did Amaze
For my poems, people were waiting on the edge
And to write many more poems I now pledge;
Interest in them hope this will also arouse
While in the barn milking brainless cows.
What am I doing on this now eager earth?
Milking my poems for all that they are worth;
According to outrageous, contagious statistics
To make minds a poems merge requires catalystics.
My highly developed word will never be found;
Mixed it up in my mind, and then up was ground;
Many well-taught people, it truly did amaze;
It had became part of a new brain food craze.
Our bodies are ships going with the tide.
The peaks and valleys that we all must ride.
Riding the waves being tossed to and fro.
Moving with the current, or ebb and flow.
If all hope is lost, and your faith is short.
What about love, if the soul is in port?
Go and remove the barnacles of sin.
Merely waiting for our ship to come in.
Suspended in dry dock; good time to pray.
You've been restored, go back to work and play.
Sometimes at the bow, sometimes at the stern.
Sometimes below deck, from all these we learn.
Rough hands, not to a poetic nature.
A rough heart is to a brain washed stature.
To seclude a past dream, fate has built me solid.
To accomplish what I've decided not to, so diabolic.
And what has been unheard of, I have done.
To persuade a wicked mind that I'm the only one.
Oh what a genius, how writer's block envies me.
To the finest and fittest, none could ever be.
What a useless thing, a mind a terrible thing.
Not to waste, to the unheard of to sting.
Guts like a cardboard box, so cowardly at its best.
Water hits and it crumbles to rest.
Limp, un vivid- a pointless being.
The worse part is knowing, knowing what I'm seeing.
That I AM indeed a fake, that I AM cowardly at its best.
I should just crumble under intoxication- leave my lifeless body to rest.
What a beautiful way to die, a beautiful waste of creation.
To form new hands and a new animation.
A different perspective through different color eyes.
A heart made different, with my truth in disguise.
How cowardly I am, to start over clean.
Not knowing what I know now, not seeing what I've seen.
I am to melt, a beautiful waste.
I dare myself every racing bullet, that I'll be the next they've cased.
A heart, a mind, but stones don't mix.
They're segregated- I'm not- I need to be fixed.
Twilight's shadows consume my thoughts
reapers glove clutching daylight to suffocation
Sleep remains elusive, in waking dreams
obsessive images loop unfettered
Fertile soil of ancient memories
spawn demons of my past realms
Yesterday storming today's bastions of sanity
manufactured reality expired, obsolete
Gatekeeper guard the boundaries of my soul
fistfalls of desperation resounding, pounding
Claw the erected walls upward
crumbled reality a pinhole of dawns light
Relinquish the reapers grasp
another day as demons wait for dusk
Each One of My Poems
For many things seem to be getting the blame
But how about possible a Poetry Mind Game;
I send you part of poem so you can see
How to turn it into a poem you want it to be.
So easy and simple surely seems to me;
Can start doing it while under a tall tree;
You write a wild poem of your very own
Even if by wind, pages had been badly blown.
Start turning back to the original page;
Set sights to stars and let mind engage;
Let poetry writing become a school of thought;
And by poetry obsession will have got caught.
What if we are all in someone's dream
Reality non-existant, not as it seems
No plan, no God, no ruler supreme
Everything a vision of alternative theme
Envision all taught since young - misheard
Provision just wasted, Gods promise is absurd
Decision made - making history blurred
Derision, ridiculing His holy written word
Making, creating - it's all gone wrong
Society is impressionable - drifts along
Even though we speak different tongue
We understand in others dreams privacy belongs
I meant to work with elderly folks my good deed for the day
Somehow I put it off...maybe another day.
I meant to study the holy books upon the dusty shelf
Covered now in dust and grime, waiting to teach this mind.
I meant to write a poem today, at least t'was on my mind
But now the day has sped on by, my poem lost to time.
I meant to kick that awful habit, my daily dose of drink
Maybe I’ll try again tomorrow since today is on the blink.
I meant to spread a little love, share with someone today
But I really wasn’t up to it, perhaps another day.
I meant to sleep tonight in a bed warm and snug
But all I had was a sleepless night, drunk upon the rug.
I meant to have a special day after all my tasks were done,
I mean to try once more before the 'morrow's sun
For now I know …. regret….remorse….. I wish….and if onlys ,
Never, ever get things done.
United We Write Poems
About many things found myself fretting;
If finally finished will I end up regretting
Or went ahead and finished things anyway
Would I be happy or have much dismay?
You drive certain things that could drive you
Insane with doubt and items being not true
Found them to be false as I reached the end;
After that, all the results may have to rescind.
But poems I wrote for people are designed,
Having them specifically on my wondering mind;
Some may not like each poem and them refuse
Or could possibly be for their personal use.
Suppose your purpose and goal mine might meet
Even if valiantly victorious or ending in defeat
All your instruments up will have to tune 'em
So you can end up with E Pluribus Unum.
This poem to me seems so brilliant no doubt;
You actually will understand what it is about.
James Thomas Horn, Retired Veteran
Many Are Now Refusing
What thought are in their each mind
Along with facts have become resigned
Which they will be willing to accept
Who on subject have slept and slept.
How did world end up with an abundance?
Of sin, greed, malice and much repugnance;
Hopefully soon from God a message He'll send
Saying, "!!!All of this must be brought to an end!!!"
Is it always true that only time will tell
When on foolish faces we all finally fell;
Are you one of those who fervently tries
Yet ends up hiding behind a mental disguise.
God, show me again good times once more
Like all those great ones we had before
When message was clear and not confusing;
To accept You, many are now refusing.
Hollow dense vapor sets along the brook
Never imagining dawn breaking in
Earth meets air and it's mysterious show
Stillness so still .. it feels like utter sin~
None could tame the unspoken vigor
Water meets Air above an untamed breeze
Justice is served Mother Nature's eager
Vernal life lines the brooks simplistic ease~
The breath of comfort calming and placid
Brook does not babble but silently flows
Nor is there a scene like this one today
Breathtakingly unique double rainbows~
If all nature is not a warrior.....
There would be rot in desolate spaces
How then could her graceful exterior
Know natures place is among these places?
When you're out walking in nature's way
Ignorantly avoiding her bountiful mass
Recall to your divine spirit that may
Murmur negativity away, be steadfast~
Forest anew with decadence steady
Society must learn to be ready for war
Mother Nature's ner' hollow but ready
Know nothing has ever stopped her before~
Could Become New Craze
Should my poems have much superstition
Of what does seem to be a deep suspicion
After deciding and making one more decision
What if I were faced with an inquisition?
My desire was lack a cross which was burning
And deep inside my stomach started churning
And a thought and question kept on returning
Would all of my love she want to be spurning.
No matter where love and each chip lays
Wrote several more poems last few days
On my mind and conscience each one plays
Poetry recitals could become a new craze.
In God’s light my teardrops fall for the things I know
Thus love has made my mind colorful like rainbow!
Although optimism is there
Pessimism we also share
In times such as, a day like today
Poetry takes unbearable away
Over whelmed between work and home
Our minds all need some place to roam
Everyone feels hopeless at times
Magical words heal us with rhymes
We are divine, our lives are a test
Allow poetry to cleverly jest~
Witty remarkable writing indeed
Can sooth irreparable souls in need
Gangs are bad for you and me
Though they may feel like family
Drugs and alcohol are too
They will tear your life in two
It will make you look just like a fool
And lemme Tell you man, that's not cool.
Brahma, Allah, Jevovah, Vishnu, Ahuramazda, Shiva...
What’s in a name?
A way to identify the same,
Geography, language is mainly to blame
Your glory is such,
Man asks for too much.
Meditation or one pointed concentration is the key ,
But who says there is no fee?
Day to dawn makes no sense,
What does? we call nonsense.
Who am I, and why am I here?
Has just become my greatest fear.
Is justice to be done with the strength in my hands?
Or by sweet words maybe written in the sand?
When will you set me free?
So that I can be with thee.
How am I to live in bliss?
When I stop myself from giving all a kiss.
Why do I write I do not know?
It is only ink on paper to show.
To God, who would want to commit treason
And only their own self find to be pleasing;
Then while asleep have an incredible dream
Where you were blowing off a head of steam.
For great Sunday should put on some topping;
When you start eating it, there is no stopping;
Still our son's love we all so often will need;
What does he do to control kids when they stampede?
Of course, if Christ is a person my son does covet,
He should tell those not believing to go shove it
And whatever his thinking had previously been
Should pray to God and start all over again.
Could it be when you see each city
That on poor people should take pity
Be conscientious and always understanding
And food out to poor should start handing.
Why be incredible clown or big buffoon
When to society you may be a boon
And should be starting to contribute
Food for declining people who are destitute.
So why should we really take advantage
When to help them all we should manage;
Instead of being bitter reach a happy ending
And dead to heaven, we should start sending.
James Thomas Horn
This is the story better not told,
as it is too rancid and old,
In the town of motorina,
there lived a folk girl called georgina.
She was fat and ugly,
without company seen only singly.
She was obese and poor,
had to withstand villagers' jeers and boors.
No parents she had had,
Both were reported to be long dead.
No siblings grew by her side,
She had a lonesome life to abide.
She worked odds and lots,
so she could eat and add to her fat.
Of her odds at baker's was most,
after she had worked he reported all lost.
It is at baker's that this story began,
one day he caught her and she began the ran.
As the village watched her panting ahead,
the baker in pursuit almost head to head.
She was a good ten feet ahead,
The baker pursued thinking fat would be soon dead.
Georgina had other plans,
Fear had caught her headlong.
Her fat had energised in legs,
she was running in long dregs.
baker lost the ground,
and soon lost her sight and sound.
Georgina continued to run for long,
taking not a straight but a path oblong.
She reached dense forest,
dark in day time as if a closed closet.
She now sighted and looked back,
stopped finding that the baker had long packed.
Now another fear took her on,
she knew forest had animals feeding on human carrion.
She cringed under a grandparent tree,
recovering breath and feeling free.
She sat down,
and pulled her half torn gown.
Thirst,hunger and fear hung in dark,
even as she heard sparrows hark.
She opened her troubled eyes,
taking deep breaths and sighs.
Looking for water and food,
she after all got up and stood.
With careful steps she gingered along,
as she hardened and felt strong.
(To be continued)
From protruding points may have to panic
Or possibly do things which are dynamic
Comfort souls and feed those in need
Help God forgive those full of greed.
So how will a bird build her nest
What is proper way and which is best?
Position of nest and it to be placing
And direction in which it should be facing.
Precarious problem has now been solved
What next with should she be further involved?
Finally after all of the successful raising
Would be nice if she received some praising.
James Thomas Horn
The entire Budhist monk"s life is but a preperation,
For his Death Point or moment of seperation.
The Jains have santhara,
Quitting life consciously to join with the paramatma.
The hindus go into samadhi,
Where there is no Congress,Shiv Sena,BJP or Samajwadi.
The Christian merges with the holy spirit,
Peace no more desperate.
The sufi mystic to become one,
Dances,twirls,prays,trances to get the job done.
Aghora means illumined with light,
Longing for Shiva in whom they delight.
Shamanism or the art of ecstacy,
The ultimate being one with the super entity.
There is no need to change your faith,
And on your old religion lay a wreath.
With patience she has bought me up,
So much love it keeps overflowing the cup.
She comforts me when I am in pain,
Or else a long time ago i would have gone insane.
I get scolded when she is right,
But so rarely has she abused her might.
I love you mom beyond compare,
If ever you need me I will be there.
God is here in a disguise for me,
The faster I realise the better things shall be.
Let's bring into this world peace
So all these wars and violence can cease
Let's stop all this hatred
And give the poor and homeless a piece of bread
Let's start by changing us all and right from inside
And letting God be your guide
There's so much we need to change
Even if it looks and sounds strange
We can all start sometime and somewhere
By showing in everything that we do, that we care
Let's be careful in the manner that we speak
Let's be strong and not weak
Let's show this world, that we still stand strong and tall
Let's unite together with courage and tear down every single wall
Let's bring into this world of ours much more love and peace
So a lot of this vicious circle of strife and pain can one day cease
Let's start today and let's do it right from the place in which we live
Let's always be respectful of our neighbors and our fellow man
Let's give the best of ourselves everyday and all the time that we can.
Let's stop this madness and get rid of all these illegal drugs today
They can destroy everything that you have and will kill you too
Make a vow to bring God into your life every single day
And make Him part of everything that you do.
Believe that your life will be more productive and blessed
When you put Him first in every thing
That you set your mind to do when you bring
Him closer and right inside your heart
And from you He shall never depart
So start by doing this and much more
Let's answer the call and open the door
Let's be watchful of everything that we do and say
And let's be thankful and pray to God everyday!
Dorian Petersen Potter
We have to eventually, finally face
The fact parents are far out of place
Unaccustomed to things currently known
Some boys never end up fully grown.
Boys will be boys we have heard for years
A saying used to soften so many tears
And poor excuse when you cuss and moan
Just because you wouldn't leave them alone.
Forbidden fruit you will never find
Each time when you whip their behind
What all boys will wish was inherent
Is ones in control are a pleasant parent.
James Thomas Horn
Death comes to you in the middle of the night,
Or sweeps you away in broad daylight.
This being mans biggest doubt,
Death is not to be talked about.
Where he comes from where he goes?
We have no tangible proof that shows.
The masters say there is a holy light,
In the beginning and during our last flight.
How do I overcome my fear of death?
By leading a good life and having no regret.
The moment I die I must do my best,
To become one with the light eternal rest.
The soul must merge with the super soul,
Forever to become part of the whole.
As long as i have much to give,
that is how long i will live.
At the end to death I must go,
Finishing a real tragic and funny show.
Who would our forefathers vote for?
Personally I don’t think there is a candidate who would meet their par.
We need a new direction alright but bringing the country down was not what I had in mind.
And of all the millions of people in this country this is the best candidates we can find?
Have we become nothing more than sheep that have to be lead?
End the bickering between the two parties, enough said?
Trying to divide the nation is what you are doing,
Become a team and stop all the he said, she said and focus on the country and it’s
One party, one nation, one God with one goal,
The betterment of mankind and the peaceful existence of all should be a major role.
America is struggling and all because the rich want more and more is greed,
There is enough to go around but we must learn to not take more than we really need.
In the sixty years my Lord has granted me I have seen much change,
But the things I see of late to me are very strange.
Like just basically overnight the sudden shortage of crude and the enormous profits these
oil companies make,
I think we’ve been had and I believe most of our leaders are on the take.
Those that are caught with their hands in the cookie jar should have to pay,
Make an example of them is what I say.
End it now and come down hard so others will know,
They represent us and with integrity and honor they must show.
they caught that nasty varmint, that killed old sheriff Beck;
And by the time we're done with him, he'll be hanging from the neck.
Send them to the guillotine and watch their heads roll off the block;
An aristocrat is less than human, so to kill them is no shock.
Fry them in the chair, they don't deserve to live;
So everyone will understand, you get back what you give.
Drop a little pellet, then watch them fight for air;
It's a perfect way to end their lives, they are people who don't care.
Let's give him an injection; it's lethal and it's fast;
Before you have a chance to look, it's over and he's passed.
You know he's just an animal, who committed genocide;
And hanging was a perfect way, for a man like him to die.
The beast was very dangerous, he mauled his trainer half to death;
You know that we should kill him; it's the only answer left.
Kill them all I say; God will sort them out;
Those red skins are just heathens, with their whooping and their shouts.
I don't believe we are judgmental and most of us agree;
If everybody says its right, it must be right you see.
You say we shouldn't kill them, I say the punishment befits the crime;
So go ahead and waste your breath, after all you paid your dime.
God bless the little children and make this country strong;
And bless the places just like us, who want to get along.
We all must do our gardening, get rid of all the weeds;
The only way is kill them all, wouldn't you agree?
Dreams are wishes
Made in your heart
To reach for the stars
And find their chart
Every day dream
Of all those things
Your heart within sings
Dazzled by their beam
Never stop dreaming
Never stop wishing
These are gifts
Don't let them drift!
Sail this magical ship
Don't let them ever slip!
Dorian Petersen Potter
man's complex and complicated minds
minds that he uses to find
to find the reason that he is living
living as sentient human beings
human beings whom are full of possibilities
possibilities as far as the mind can see
see that we are just a manifestaion
a manifestation of God's creations
God's creations sent to fulfill the prophecy
the prophecy of mankind's ability
mankind's ability to give unconditional love
unconditional love a command from God above
With careful steps she gingered along,
as she hardened and felt strong.
Tip toeing and glancing with stealth,
She again began fearing for her good and health.
There came a deafening roar from north,
and in the south a jackal began a killer howl.
The puny heart in her obesity got lost,
as she dreaded the horrific cost.
She now almost ran,
and had the bushes in quick pan.
Panting and huffing she came clear,
and caught her breath dear.
She was now in grass land wide,
with sun shining on each pore of her hide.
Her loggy legs and herculean chest,
heaved the steps and sighs which came at last.
She eyed far and long,
but only found flying birds singing the song.
Determined she scoured the scene,
and saw that was not till now seen.
It was a faint line of smoke,
billowing miles away from a chimney poke.
Her eyes brightened and sparked,
as she took quick steps like a delirious hark.
It was a jungle homestead,
she would not stay here and walk there instead.
Thinking thus she walked not aware of arounds,
in the frightening and terrible surrounds.
(To be continued)
Toy in the shape,
of a figurine,
Boy saw it,
and began to whine,
he had seen possibilities,
of frolic and fun,
he began insistence,
full throttle and gun,
he had an agenda,
different from parents,
he deepened his laments,
scared now for sure,
both became full aware,
that they had to quieten the guy,
so they simply bought the toy ware.
The juries of debauchery; with there jaded little judging’s;
They leave no room for circumstance; because it’s known they are begrudging
They think they make it real; but real compared to what;
Opinions maybe of some exiles; that circle in a rut.
A simple minded creature; is the spineless jelly fish;
But even when avoided, it’s supposed they should exist.
Disappointed and discouraged; the watcher’s walk alone;
They’ve grown to like their solitude; for most out there are drones.
Long ago the I Am decided to make the monkeys talk
They possessed wonderful opposing thumbs, now they could reason
But, once they began to practice talking and then reasoning
They realized that one day they would inevitable all die
So, they had to think of a place all would go after their death
It was decided that each monkey must return to their God
There were many Gods from which the wise talking monkeys could choose
Of course, all were the same, I Am was called by different names
By this time, I Am had left them to flourish upon their world
For I Am was a child and had long grown bored with the monkeys
One day a boy monkey noticed that other monkeys watched him
The other talking monkeys wanted to be wiser then he
So, he and his girl companion fabricated some clothing
They told other monkeys what was theirs, and to leave it alone
Soon all the talking monkeys had their own prize possessions to keep
The more possessions they owed, the more powerful they became
The monkeys began to dress and speak differently ‘fore long
The girl monkeys shaved and painted their faces with bright colors
Monkeys united into opposing groups about the earth
To protect their families, land, and their precious possessions
A few monkeys thought they could gain power by killing rivals
They attacked their neighbors and took all their possessions and lands
Soon all the monkeys were in larger groups warring for more power
Sometimes they even did it in the name of their Gods, I Am
The monkeys grew wise and resourceful over the centuries
They were sure they ruled their world and all the creatures within it
Then I Am remembered the monkeys and became curious
He blew the stardust from their box and slowly opened the lid
With much surprise, he found the box was empty and very dark
Nothing was left inside but particles of dull cosmic dust
So, I am tossed the box into his great fire and watched it burn
And the talking monkeys returned to where they had all began
I represent all human kind
My birth begins in their mind
Majestic like an eagle’s flight
Life’s passageways of insight
Thru my words souls are bared
Yet no tongue have I to share
I have a strong worthy stand
Yet can be crushed in the hand
Souls of millions I have seen
Despite no eyes to intervene
I have traveled far and wide
Air, land and sea all in stride
The plea of many I have heard
Yet no ears I have to hear a word
My identity an endless sky
Amazingly untold names have I
Many things I could be
In a Poem for all to see