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Social Mystery Poems | Social Poems About Mystery

These Social Mystery poems are examples of Social poems about Mystery. These are the best examples of Social Mystery poems written by international PoetrySoup poets

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Details | Quatrain | |

You make me feel numb

I do believe in magic
I so believe in peace
I believe you know undoubtedly
Of beauties and of beasts
The human spirit can withstand
And rise above the shrine
Belittle all you want, my dear
I’ll be the dwarf in time
But I’ll evolve as I hold dear
These sentiments that haunt you
I’ll cherish every single tear
Because you’ve plagued me to
I’ll turn the other rosy cheek
Though undeserved it may be
I will forgive, but won’t forget
The promised growth inspired in me
Further more, I wish to say
Remind me that I’m still alive
Disturb the sleeping monsters 
Please provoke me to survive
You compliment this hypocrite
Attention seeking scum
And help stick out the finger
That outranks the sorest thumb


Details | Sonnet | |

Give me a break I am PMS ing

I may slap you, curse you, smack you
Don’t get too serious honey, its monthly fun
I am PMS ing and my trauma is true
Be my gentleman and Pass My Shotgun

I may hate your friends and knock them down
Be any handsome man or cute chick
Don’t get them here when I am around
I am PMS ing, People Make me Sick

I may laugh out loud at your silly jokes
And the very next moment won’t find them funny
That catastrophic emotional trauma pokes
I am PMS ing, its Psychotic Mood Shift honey

Every month, within me I sense this ruinous storm
It’s not me honey, this phantom is Premenstrual Syndrome


Details | Free verse | |

Autobahn

~2012 New Berlin Remix~


Rapid Eye Movements
cruise down the Autobahn,
driving dreams of soldiers 
slaying the wicked Beast in the East,
seeds hidden in the cuff links
returning home for the victory parade.

The victory parade of the new millennium
is a mirage, as desert sand blows 
through the desolate streets of Basra,
spray painted slogans of 'Aryan Nation'
scrawled across crumbling walls.
High level Terror-alerts
scroll across the Fear o' Dome,
breeding paranoid glances 
of commercial-class passengers
flying high above barbed-wire compounds:
camps of cells in solitary confinement,
centralized secret service agents
unload the next set of trains.

"Son, do you forget all that we sacrificed?!
Have you lost all of your respect?
Okay, so maybe the Feds
became brainwashed by the Reds,
but this is for our freedom and safety.
This isn't about racial impurity,
but our Nationalist Socialist security!"

"You are all mixed now anyway,
doesn't matter if you are female, black, jew or gay,
we must unite together as a nation,
proudly wave our flags, fight our common enemy!
This enemy is trying to disintegrate
the very fabric of our free society!"

"Son, why can't you just see?!"
"Son, can you not see! Not see-notsee-notsea-notsi-notzi 
natzi-nazi-natzi-notzi-notsi-notsea-notsee-not see!"
____


....cold sweat.

I wake-up from a horrible nightmare,
remnants of images floating through my head.
Something about flocks of carnivorous sheep,
and rabid wolves for shepherds?
Jumping out of bed,
I quickly look in the mirror
just to make sure.
Everything looks as it should.
Lawnmower growls in the background,
sunshine leaks into the room
adding a warm touch to reality.
Through my bedroom window,
I spy the neighbour's Iron Eagle weathervane
goose-stepping towards the east.

Everything appears normal,
here, on the corner of 4th Reichstag Blvd.




.


Details | Romanticism | |

Autumnal Grace

The autumnal grace that bodes so well 
For eager souls departs,
Upon a dove wore Gaelic prose
Devised by naïve hearts,

For afterthoughts as echoed dew
Sate the doleful needs,
Of naïve souls whose hearts dispose
Of decadence and greed,

For autumnal grace a phrase misplaced
In modern times bestowed,
With meaning laced with fervent haste
That once defined our souls.


Details | Free verse | |

Reality's Angel

I am Reality’s angel resting on the broad shoulders of discovery the truth feeds darkness and engulfs its target ideas and concepts in turn become meaningless to you there is a creator of all things He is just and patient many still have fallen into the masses of shadow wrapped in their own filthy idols of philosophy I have seen grown men fall like rose petals and weaklings rise into unjust leaders forever the follower of furtive evil dominating only to remain inferior the most important answers lie in the unseen regions where no sense can fully give assurance the mind that so many unreasonably twist and turn grows weary because of the distance it must take and truth be told the distance is not what frustrates it is knowing we are seeking something far that could very possibly not exist, that our minds can twist into theoretical, idealistic nonsense it is knowing all we really think we know is meaningless and yes—even a lie all that has been written thus far rests under my wings under the warmth in which you refuse to feel can you believe in me— though I am completely unseen? how much more difficult would it be to see Him?


Details | Verse | |

Secretly Obsessed

Obsessed with the thought of you
wondering if it's only me or
if you sometimes remember the sweet things you've said
and if you meant them how I took them
or if I'm just obsessed with what's in your head

Obsessed with your very sentences
Every response I take personal
I know it's selfishness
Have you not noticed my eyes?
They hold secrets that only you can unlock
if you'd just take time to fill the thick juices of my pride
It's just boiling with lust, passion, trust and distrust
and other things I obsess over so much

I find myself writing to free myself from this prison I've created
where only you and I reside
I become confused about what I'm really feeling inside and I 
try to rid the thoughts that are highly debated as false and I
begin to cry and
think of casting love spells so that the universe can deliver this affair
I know it's unfair
but I don't care

I'm obsessed with what hasn't happened between us
I'm obsessed with your heart and that the fact that 
I don't think you've even noticed my selfish innuendos 
and secret undertones that blatantly express my lust
Or maybe you have and you calmly remain in resistance of distrust 
If you could only read my mind by simply touching my fingertips,
I'm sure I'd catch you out the corner of my eye biting your bottom lip
I'm obsessed with the passion and thoughts I think you have
Obsessing over an experience that I may never have....






Details | Haiku | |

It is now

Ain't a word, you said.
but it takes a daring gust 
for things start to be.


Details | Verse | |

Enigma's Calling

Extraordinary, I am 
Craving for unusual thoughts
Endless exploration without boundary
Understanding  the gift I shouldn't fought
 
Invisible drawings in my mind
Playing with the words in my head
My passion
The food of my soul
 
I feel so lucky
The random thoughts
A lifetime companion
A self esteem builder
A goal planner
Be my forever life saver
 
I write more
I talk less
I want to please
I chose to bore
 
What tickles me the most
Is to know what I'm for
Thinking is my love
When  my mind goes empty
That's when I hate
 
My day dreaming lust
Organizing things in my mind
Playing roles of simulation
Where images of art is my vision
And words of attitude is my heart


Details | Free verse | |

The Beauty In Futility

Futility
my heart breathes its last breath
Embraces its own death
Ready to be reborn 
and made anew

Can’t live a lie
Refuse to “do”
and I’ll DIE....
Focus now on why I’ll live 
And never touch the sky. 

I have to forget you
I have to reject you 
But I will never love anyone 
like I loved you.....

I heard you whisper 
and you never knew it
I wiped the tears from your eyes 
But you couldn’t feel it

You’re lost and you’ll never find you
And neither will I 
And I’m so sorry--
but I’m NOT. 

I'll attempt to reset
Try to forget
But you know, I never will. 

Be my dirty little secret 
My very worst-kept secret 
Sweet, smooth, beautiful poison 
My infernal and endless attraction 
towards complete and utter self-destruction 

I fell in love with the devil
And it will take one heck of an angel
To save me from the likes of you....

My addiction 
my confusion
my nightmare
my dream never to come true

Oh, I’ll never forget the times
we never shared
I’ll never forget 
how you were never there

Always me, the stars, and tears
And I ask you,
what kind of life is THAT?

I have to face the facts 
I don’t know what happens now
but it happens without you. 

The stains will always be there
the scars will never fade
But the memory of you----
it HAS to. 

I could carry the torch forever
But it would only consume me
I can’t cry another tear for you
Or I’ll dry up completely

It doesn’t affect you
and you never deserved me

You’ll go on with your life, too
All, all alone
Because you’ll only ever be in love
with you. 


Details | Rhyme | |

Knock, Knock!

Knock, Knock!
Who is it that goes there,
It is me; I am in your air,
And a deep root we share.

Knock, Knock!
What on Earth do you want?
It is me, the one they daunt.
But you and I have to jaunt.

Knock, Knock!
Would you just go far away?
It is me, and forever I’ll stay.
I ‘m here giving you the way.

Knock, Knock!
Why must you keep bothering me?
Because you are one of me and see.
I have come to set souls totally free.

Knock, Knock!
Have you not been here a time or two before?
Yes it is me; I will always knock at your door.
You’ve buried me alive deep inside your core!

®Registered: Ann Rich 2008


Details | I do not know? | |

Tishmandu

Tishmandu
 
My eyes can see
That the sand is like sea
And it stretches to the end of my mind
On a ship set to sail
with four legs and a tail
Tishmandu I set out to find
 
Now the wind is of sand
and can lend a hand
in tearing the flesh from your bone
So your head you keep wrapped
your snaps keep snapped
and you never travel alone
 
The heat at midday
is to kill and waylay
if the body and soul are not one
So you pray to the east
and prepare for slim feast
begging passage under full sun
 
Caravan of the seed
born on camels that breed
in an endless march between wells
Over lost count of dunes
under God and full moons
blessing passage with incense and bells
 
At the end of the day
when gold turns to grey
and the stars brighten the skies
A device is brought forth 
to determine true north
and the path where Tishmandu lies
 
On the fortieth morn
pressing lips to the horn
a signal beckons us wake
Leaving water behind
on a course now refined
the final leagues we must take
 
Tishmandu is a place
where a white mans face
has never been seen or allowed
But the people have need
and my service agreed
in a land under sky without cloud
 
Like feathers of blue
in the distance I view
the flags on top of the walls
Though my limbs are worn
my very fabric is torn
I move towards Tishmandu halls
 
At last in the shade
a walled shelter is bade
I meet with the maker of rules
A service I bring
but to rules I must cling
or a tortures price must be paid
 
Twenty days and seven
in the passes of heaven
I treated the sick and the lame
With rules on my mind
the medicines I grind
The devil of Tish for to tame

As I washed the sick
and avoided blunt stick
the God of the desert did smile
For the people made well
in this fortified hell
where spirit is subject to trial
 
In the end I am paid
for the journey I made
and the healing and medicine new
On my camel back
salted meats in my pack
I Bid farewell to Tishmandu
 
RAMA, Ink


Details | Blank verse | |

Stalker

I embrace the nocturnal shade 
coiled beneath tangerine lamplight 
on the corner of the street 
in case a certain little lady walks by. 
I am ever watchful 
in the telephone kiosk bathed in smells of damp 
directories, of urine and pubescent vandalism; 
silhouetted at the mouth of the 
tubeway entrance; 
sat in the rusting Lada across the road; 
ever watchful, 
gaze unwavering, unflinching. 
I have perfected the dead-eye stare. 
I am the vigilant sentinel. 
I am watching you. 

Wherever you choose to go I am 
mere footsteps away, 
dogging your trail. 
At the salon I watch your pale tresses 
cut and blown dry 
through stencilled window glass. 
That time I got a lock of your hair. 
I like to collect souvenirs. 
They bring us closer. 

I know you know I am here, 
I make certain of that; 
dead certain. 
I want you to know I am here, 
always present 
on the periphery of your vision; 
live ghost haunting your existence. 

The police have made empty threats, 
charges of loitering with intent. 
Intent to do what, though? 
That is the question. 
Intent to do what? 
It is for me to know and you to discover. 
This is the game, my sweet, 
the game we play. 

I feel your fear when you pick up the 'phone 
and no one answers, 
only the romance of dead silence; 
I can smell your sweat leaking down the line, 
taste your breath, sharp and spicy with fear, 
burning down the line. 
I sense your arousal, 
the wetness of your loins, slick 
with the lubricant of anticipation, 
of desire, 
of surrender. 
But we do not speak, no, 
not yet, 
but soon. 
Be patient, beloved, be patient as I am patient, 
stoic and timeless and patient. 
I hear you sobbing, crying down the line, 
hear the crystal crash of vodka glass shattered 
against the wall. Be patient, calm yourself, 
for soon, very soon, we will meet...and 
then my intent will become clear... as 
clear as those shards of shattered crystal, 
my sweet...


Details | Bio | |

Big City, Big Shot Fool (Me)

A true story.

Here I was,
23 or 24...
Classed an "Executive"
NYC Dept Store Chain,
"Executive" label meant
I could work overtime
For one half of my normal salary...
But a fool sees stars
Where he should see crime

Promoted "Furniture Buyer"....
Big Ticket spot....
They seemed out to prove
Smart I was not.

Big Furniture Market,
High Point, N.C.,
Invited out to dinner,
By big shot vendor....
Oh...whoop, whoop, yea!

Of course, my stuffy boss
was there,
In the next chair
At this odd restaurant...
"The Factory" it's name,
After that night,
I was never looked at the same....

Big shot, Big City....
Big Fool....
It wasn't pretty....

The menu did start
Entrees priced more
Than my annual salary
And I'm confused
There's a boiler next to me!

So this Big City Buyer,
In his $99.00 suit
Ordered a shrimp cocktail,
Oh, what a hoot!

Lights flashing....
Like Studio 54
I had no idea
What I was in for!

Got my shrimp cocktail,
Oh, I do love my shrimp!
But the lemon wedge,
Was wrapped up
My mind now a' crimp

In this decorative yellow stuff,
All fit with a bow....
How do I open it, I wondered...
I wanted to know...

But I'm a Big Shot NYC Buyer,
Sure, I've seen it all....
How dare these dumb hicks...
Have such a gall!!

I took my fork,
I took my knike....
I started trying to open
This thing like....
It meant my very life!

I was struggling,
And sweating,
And frustrated and mad
Got some of the weirdest looks
I ever have had...

These Carolina Hicks...
Out to make a fool of me...
Slowly I realized
Everyone looking at me...

My boss's eyes swollen
In shame
How dumb his young buyer
Should be in a cornfield
And call himself "Town Crier"

Eventually I learned....
This stuff was called
"Cheese-cloth"
Ridiculous I thought...
No cheddar or swiss
Like this had I ever bought...

In silence I remained
Through the rest of my meal....
To me the biggest embarrassment
To me the biggest deal....

Big City Hot Shot Buyer...
Dumb as a farm hand.....
Put in a Manhattan restaurant...
Without but a strand....
Of what was, what wasn't
Of how, and of why...
All I wanted to do
Is to crawl under a rock
And die!

(This is true!!!)


Details | Free verse | |

In her Eyes

Blame was burning in her eyes,
Flames were screaming out of head,
Tongue was a piece of flash,
But heart was pumping fast.

Body was lying on a bed,
Night was cuddling with her,
Dreams were scattering fast,
But she was helpless to touch them.

How can she stop someone’s mouth?
What had she done so wrong?
Her welcoming steps were weeping,
And crying for her coming home.

Father was ill and mother was old,
Husband was drunkard and idle,
When comes late at night,
Demand’s money from her family.

She thought to kill herself,
But her little child climbed to her feet,
Her jumping fire fell into a pool of tears,
And her feelings were damped.

Suddenly her husband came home, 
And started to kicking her badly,
Her mouth starts to bleed,
And she fell down and crying with pain.

Child was only eight and watching quietly,
His father was lying on a bed,
He stabbed a knife in his chest,
Sun was arising and he was playing in dust.


Details | Quatrain | |

The Inner Workings

Can it truly be said that a man is mere logic
when I see your emotion as if it hung in the air?
Can it truly be said that a woman's mere feelings
when my brain is like clockwork in logic to bare?
Leaning tos, that is another discussion
for I will admit that I lean toward the tears
and maybe you too would admit just for reference
that you have the mechanics of a man of your years
But don't you think too, that a blending occurs
right at the moment two soul mates connect
and each leans in toward the other's attraction
they otherwise fell, in their days, to neglect?
Perhaps that is why your eyes well up quite rightly
when you see that my heart has been scorched by design
And maybe that's why I hold common sense tightly
and wrap it in gauze to be precious in kind
We are just truly conjoined puzzle pieces
with traits to be honored as sweet compliments
Whether it's logic or sheer, raw emotion
we balance each other in complete confidence.


Details | Free verse | |

Generic Minds

generic minds listen to generic music
have generic thoughts that are unknowingly abusive
watch generic things talk about generic things
gee this generic *****is spreading like a disease
better get your flu shot 
thats what they said to me
a suicidal vaccine 
a subliminal killing spree
its contagious and the outrageous
thing about it is that the people are blind in an eye
that they didn't even know they had
it's sickening to watch these clueless civilians 
inside the looking glass
with nightmares of being free
without a key to their mind
for it is trapped in the frequency
in the illusion of time
bathed in our universe
killing all that refuse to see
those that admit to hypocracy
or see the message in hip hop
how cant you see
the message in the lyrics that
bring adolescents to their knees
from bullet wounds conflicting their flesh
contradicting that they're the best
but the songs keep telling them that they dont need no rest
that they dont wanna go home
that they should ride alone
with the gat as their only companion
and so the only path they choose is the one that they're told
until they grow old and hope turns to a window pane
inside a window pane, until all they feel is pain
they realize that the music itself is ashamed
so whats to look up to
when you cant even speak when you cant even walk because you look so bleak
your eyes are sunken from the tv you're infested with the dee zees
now its too late to turn around and live for your conscious
so when youre screaming oh please
close your eyes and bring your mind to life
open your eyes for the first time
and never wonder why
since the answer this entire time
has been inside
and you better find it before you die
you dont want your soul to be in a pool with all the others
a buncha brothers missing their mothers
but only seeing strangers
only feeling the haters
wishing they would have used their minds when they had them
and now its too late,
now it's time for another new born fate to grab them


Details | Haiku | |

The Internet: Return

A void of Facebook
Creativity dies here...
Procrastination!


Details | I do not know? | |

Diverse

Oh say can I see 
By the big florescent lights
Once so proudly now has fell
Fell into reality? 
Fell into right? 
Fell into a time where there should have never been a fight!! 

With ’In God We Trust ' printed on every dollar. 
But God got kicked out so Columbine became the shocker. 
But was it also ' In God We Trust ' when we failed to see nothing but color?

With the hoses put down, 
and Dr King no longer around, 
is ‘The Dream’ still being reached? 
Is it a sign that the first homes we see 
are no longer a possibility?

When the Towers came down,
we were 'United we Stand'
But when gas prices rose it was, 
“You're on your own, man!” 

‘A penny saved is a penny earned,’ 
is from the man that first helped us try to learn. 
But when we stopped asking what our country can do for us, 
is that the time when the table turned?

Now that Rosa will no longer be on the bus, 
I wonder who will now take that seat for all of us. 

With Miss America in the cast, 
when will we ever see Miss Disability last? 

What happened to the times of ‘I am not a crook’, 
it took a back seat to the Man who wrote the Book. 

And the rockets red glare, 
with bombs still bursting in the air, 
is it wrong to fight for the night 
when our children’s children will still be there.


Details | Rhyme | |

Overcoming Evil with Goodness

Overcoming Evil With Good...

"Do not be overcome by evil, 
 but overcome evil with good."
This verse from scripture
 is often misunderstood.

Many tend to "get back" at someone 
who's "wronged them."
Whether it be from a stranger... or even a friend.

You cannot fight evil with evil--
this isn't God's plan!
His concept of love and mercy-- you
 need to understand.

Remember  the words Jesus said in the beatitudes.
Perhaps this can stop any 
"revengeful attitudes."

You were called to be holy--
with Godliness in mind.
To be filled with his mercy... 
being gentle and kind.

Rise above whatever evil 
may come your way/
Overcome by doing this with 
God's goodness... today!

Allow the cross of Christ to be
 lifted up in your life.
Allow his spirit to remove all malice,
 bitterness and strife.

A compassionate and loving person 
in you... others will see!
What you do today--will impact your eternity!

An overcomer of evil is often
 difficult to do.
Obey and trust God--
He will see you through!

By Jim Pemberton 
Rom. 12:21


Details | Rhyme | |

Are YOU Ready For Christ Return

Are You Ready? Many in church aren't ready for Christ' return, Holiness in their lives must be learned. Many attend each Sunday, and go to every class. But outside church, their spiritual candle burns out fast. Everyone thinks they're doing fine and “o.k.” As long as they give money and sing and pray. They soak in God's word and memorize many verses. You can see their Bible tucked in behind their purses. A sense of excitement stirs each Sunday morning. But many fail to heed God's somber warning. Without holiness, no one shall enter God's throne. If Jesus came today— they'd be left alone. God knows the heart of man is wicked deep within. That's why Jesus said: “YOU MUST be born again.” Be separate from the world's wicked and sinful ways. “Be ready for my coming” is what Jesus says. At God's house, his divine judgement shall start. Live for Jesus NOW—love him with all of your heart. Keep this important thought in mind. If he came now—would you go—or be left behind? By Jim Pemberton


Details | Free verse | |

The Humans and I

Ones who wage,
Ones who rage,
Ones who take,
Ones who pay,
Ones who craze,
Ones who rave,
Ones who crave…

Ones who fear,
Ones who breathe,
Ones who give,
Ones who need,
Ones who will,
Ones who weave…

Ones who plead,
Ones who beg,
Ones who beseech,
Ones who entreat,
Ones who appeal,
Ones who volunteer,
Ones who disappear…

The ones who follow,
The ones that don’t know about tomorrow,
The ones who don’t deserve the morrow…

The ones who sleep,
The ones who cry,
The ones who live,
The ones who die…

The ones who proclaim,
Those who say they create,
The ones who ache,
The ones who don’t wait,
The ones who hesitate,
The ones who don’t concentrate,
The ones who fornicate,
The ones who procrastinate…

Those who fall in temptation,
Those who get in frustration,
Those who sometimes feel desperation,
Those who keep going without caution,
Those in motion,
Those in tension,
Those losing notion,
Those being poisoned,
Those getting in distortion,
Those following the broken diction,
Those dying like the billions,
Those without unction,
Those washed in the oceans…

I might seem cold,
But it is you who is bold.
I might not express,
But it is you who doesn’t let me progress.
I might not seem like I seek,
But it is you who doesn’t know me…
I might seem like I need,
But it is you who might always be begging on your knees.
I might seem dull,
But it is the one that is fool.
I might not be alight,
But it is you who isn’t truly alive…

I will remain neutral,
I will remain silver,
I will remain gray,
I feel darkness,
I feel light,
I will remain hallowed…,
After all, it is you who deserves no life…

I am a metal hawk,
I am a mountain goat,
I am a silver bird,
I am a gray wolf,
I am a white tiger,
I am a mystic rose…,
I am I…

I’m alive,
And I survive,
You are here,
However, it is you who deserves no life…

Being human does not imply that you have humanity…


Details | Rhyme | |

Why Do We Preach Tolerance and Love


Tolerance and love is preached…  But,  at what price?
Too often we forget about Jesus’ sacrifice!

His death was because our sin counted against us.
He died on the cross because he truly loves us!

How dare we “cheapen” his work on the cross!
In today’s “political correctness..”  We have lost!

In the love and acceptance, we call it “inclusion.”
This has led many into a serious “confusion.”

Many want the loving side of God.  I can’t blame them!
But those who seek his holiness…  
Can you name them?

God is a God of love.  But he requires holy living too!
This is not a request but a command 
me and you!

If it’s tolerance and love you want…  Look no more!
You’ll be able to find it washed up on sin’s shore!

The people of Israel wanted “free love.” 
 Look what it got them!
Being slaves and captives, is what
 it taught them!

God is a loving God but is also as a consuming fire!
Living a righteous life is what he really desires!

“Without holiness…  No man shall see him.”
That’s why he sent Jesus, to the world beneath him!

Won’t you allow your sins to be totally forgiven?
Only Jesus can change the way
 you’ve been livin’!

He gives eternal life to those who
 diligently seek him!
The choice is yours to repent and receive him!

By Jim Pemberton    


Details | Ode | |

Untitled #237 / Or

Or is he heartless?


Details | Rhyme | |

Serving A Great Church Or A Great God

Serving a Great Church? Or a Great God? There’s a church nearby I was invited to come to… I was told; “this is a great church!” It’s really cool!” “We have a great pastor that preaches a great sermon!” “We have great people too..” “This is most certain!” “You’re invited to a service that is really great.” “It last one hour so make sure you’re not late.” “You’ll find a great service in just one hour!” “You’ll have a great time.” “And will feel God’s power.” “The worship is great too!” “The music will stir your soul!” “Getting more people into our building is our goal!” I thought; “In this great church, is something missing?” In this “greatness…” What kind of life are we giving? What does scripture say about Christ’ body’s purpose and meaning? Are we focused on God? Or what gives us a “good feeling?” Holiness and repentance must be our daily goal and passion… Being sold out to Christ may seem “old fashioned.” I’d rather have Jesus than the “greatness of a church” any day. I’ll love and worship HIM… No matter that others say! May we all return to our first love... Jesus must be our lord! It’s in heaven where we need to have our treasures stored! I seek the greatness of our God! And I worship his mighty name! With him in church..… Things will never be the same! By Jim Pemberton 12/01/11


Details | Rhyme | |

I Hate Aunt Floe

NOTE: This poem is a humoruos stab at PMS from a mans point of view

I can see your blood boiling
through  the blades I once called eyes,
they were once beautiful  like jewels
now they hurt my deep insides.
cutting at my guts
and like a noose on my  lungs;
your words seek like bullets 
your mouth like sniper guns.
I’m hit with each inaccuracy…
Being killed by words untrue;
and you even got the nerve
to tell me what you think I do.
But let me get mad
and try to plead my case;
then suddenly the world
is a f--ked up place.
You got tears running down…
What the Hell did I do?
We were just sitting and laughing
I could swear that we were cool.
Oh God…
Oh no…;
I should have seen it… 
It’s Aunt Floe…,
This battle can’t be won or reasoned
I think its best I go.
Cause I hate Aunt Floe 
and she hate me too;
she sit and talk sh-t
about the gum I chew. 
The color of my shirt…,
She say my look is a stair;
She say my best has no worth
And she doesn’t stop there.
I didn’t change
I’ve been the same 
these 28 days,
 but now I’m f_ckin A__hole 
Aunt Floe gave me that name.  
She said get out my face 
This aint your home no more,
But I’m more puzzled by 
What was said before.
I love you 
With her glossy eyes 
I knew it was true, 
But horribly sly
You see these words
make me the fool.
The one that’s cruel
That a__hole dude,
That sparked the fuel
To this f__kin feud.
But I swear to God
I didn’t start this sh_t,
Why would I give up my love 
To live my life like in a pit.
 This is horrible sh_t 
Wasted days spent,
On nothing but the worst
I could be bathed in your sent. 
You could be laughing 
While I’m smiling
But Aunt Floe Won’t let this be,
And the only way to make this right
Is hold my tongue  a week.
And that ain’t gone happen 
I’m a person too,
Not soft
But I got feelins
and don’t know what  to do.
Now its been six days
Unbelievable  rage,
She locked herself 
In the room
I call it her cage.
I smell a sent in the air
It wasn’t there before,
Now lookin down the hall
I see an open door.
Is this a trap 
I’ll guess I’ll see,
If I fall for another
 You know that’s dumb ass me.
Curled in the bed 
I think I know that girl,
But where’s the hells Aunt Floe
The one that f__ked my world.
She packed up and gone
Didn’t even say good bye,
Just came wit gang of bullsh_t
And vanished in the sky.
Is that you my dear
Can you please come here,
Listen close and crystal clear…
I hate Aunt Floe
 Next time she here
Make sure I’m stocked
with weed and beer.
I love you punk.  ?


Details | Free verse | |

The Wait

Each time has a special place
And every such place has its time.
When nature seethes with strangeness
Where the mind in exquisite isolation halts itself and listens
For the rumblings of a something large and not easily defined -
Stop! Softly now, feel how close it is.
Something's coming, be assured, that can't be held in words,
Imprisoned by our comprehension.
Nothing to do now but wait and see...

Now here we stand at the conjunction
Milling about and ignoring ourselves
Like so many motes of dust hanging before a bright windowpane
Illumined by the sharp cold light of dusk, gathering and sliding
Across that vast empty horizon just beyond
And still we wonder deep down
How best to pass these years or moments
Until we turn to look on our creations,
Those children of our thoughts,
Face to face, without defenses

There's a beast in need of killing here
Of that no one doubts
But the name of the thing...
There's the rub.

What is it makes a body
Inured to the blood and fire
The pain and rage
The beauty and the folly
Of the Age it helped engender
Start
And tremble at the smallest of things
The least of the pities and frail sorrowful occurances
With which this world is etched and circumscribed?

Is it the breath of conscience
Or the sharper inspiration of fear?
Perhaps the two conspire within us
Contending for possession
Of our human souls, at once so noble and so abject,
The fitting residence for violent emotion.
Ask me not for the answer; I too join in the dance of confusion.

The beast is still there, and it's ours
It needs to die before the dawn can come,
Bringing us its meanings and its hopes
Seeming so dim and distant
But coming nonetheless.

Remember now, it's a long, long way we've come from yesterday
Back when we huddled and wondered in our vague, childish way
From where we had come and to where we must go
What we need search and what we could know
And even then we affirmed, and some as loudly denied
We must stand firm against the onrushing tide
Of expectation and labor come 'round to fruition
Bearing down the completion of our lonely mission.

So on we wait.
The flutterings of anticipation pass so slow and fine
Felt at most as a tiny unease
Slow spreading ripples in a quiet clear stream,
Or the light breeze kissing the face 
Of the heavily sedated patient,
Still there with us always,
Silent and vital as our heartbeats.

Look sharp now
That beast is still there,
And it's ours,
Formlessly waiting like smoke in a mirror.


Details | Rhyme | |

The halo effect

If there is one thing I remember
It is what life told
Just open your eyes
All that glisters may not be gold
So who is to blame and whose fault I hold
The halo effect, the one in disguise
Manifesting deception in front of thy eyes
Treat one different because of their look
Why read? Judge the cover of the book?
But you do read others because they don’t have the look
If you understand, how long has it took?
The halo effect, we magnify a trait
Condone the flaws, we magnify a trait
Attractiveness, is this what you mean?
All this talk, my perception a feign?
What I see, aint what it seem?
Huh, thanks for this, as well as that.
The halo effect, my mind was hacked. 


Details | Rhyme | |

I Went To Church Last Sunday


I Went To Church Last Sunday… I went to church last Sunday, and much to my surprise. I got up real early. It was just before the sunrise. I wanted to be with others in worship to my Lord. But when I arrived, so many there look so “bored.” When they were singing the songs, some didn’t seem to care. As I looked around, hardly anyone noticed I was there. By the time the people were asked to sing another song. Some greeted the worship leader with just another “yawn.” Did anyone really want to worship Jesus the risen king? Is church a place to simply “get bored with everything?” As the preacher arose to preach his “Sunday sermon best.” “Fill between the lines,” he said… This was to be the “test.” Shortly after the outlines were filled, there was a “closing prayer.” I noticed many of the people were “happy to get out of there!” I thought to myself as I left and walked out the door… “Is this what the true body of Christ meant for?” “Where is the sin-cleansing power of God I’ve heard about?” “Has the power of God in many churches been ‘kicked out?’” I pray that the presence of God will get a hold of our heart. May our worship for Jesus be evident… Right from the start! May our relationship with Christ be very important to us. May we give him our life! Our heart! And our trust! May our love for him not be a “boring Sunday experience.” May we serve HIM daily… Expecting a divine appearance! The Jesus I know is bigger than any denomination might be! And only his blood has the power to set men free! Serving and loving Jesus is an opportunity with living! A life in totally surrender to Christ is what we much be giving! By Jim Pemberton


Details | Ode | |

Untitled #264 / Christian girl

Oh Christian girl
oh regal queen
so lost and happy


Details | Verse | |

Philosophical Poetry Week: Transient Tuesday

I am a misprint,
Ink blot on love,
I remain a maybe
Longing for fact,
No speck of lint,
A hand in glove.
Thunder; a baby
Will only react

When you etch
Parallel clouds,
Whistling on cue
To a dead town.
Dream a sketch
Of silent crowds
Becoming you,
This boiling crown

Chews thought
Into flagellation.
Holes in the walls
To spy through,
Seeking a sort
Of bricked-up sun.
A heaven of halls,
All leaving you.