I am the ring around Saturn
spinning words as particles of ice and dust
with the power to transcend
I am the original chosen to be right here right now
transmitting verbal frequencies
through speaking my thoughts into existence
I am the heir of omnipotence,
born with a direct connection to profound abundance
The one whose words will age, yet still have substance;
since there are no boundaries attached to my pen
I am constant energy
Translating personal experience into imagery
Vulnerable to tyranny,
yet i continue attempting to share some truth
through this abstract language of poetry
I am the core
I am that I am more
I am the Divine Presence that is the Source of my rewards
I am the green you get when you mix too much yellow with the blue
That shade of gold you get when the sun resides into darkness
and when it ascends in the dawn burning dew
I am the transition between the third and fourth dimension of time;
the love you feel when you realize how it feels
I am the poem that is abstractly direct
because I write beyond limits
absorbing frequencies from 3 to 8 hertz
through meditation for several minutes
I am the one bridging the gap between
the analog ascension and the direct connection to spirit
The one who is love
because I am a descendent of it
I am the rhythm that the wind blows
I am the beginning and the ending of stories told
about the universe and how miracles unfold
I hold the power to accept judgement from those who will do just that
Not knowing that I am them in the absolute reality of me
I am knowledge beyond measure because that is my right
So I continue meeting the different parts of me
when I meditate and write
Who am I?
I AM, THAT, I AM
Copyright © humble b | Year Posted 2012
we strive to make sure
each day enlightens us
and brightens us
even as light fades to gray
may we keep fighting
with two swollen feet
beneath the body and soul
and intense life lessons
meshed with stresses
may we persevere
turn off fear's song
may we stand firm
as we glide along
through shifty winds of change
that may cause things to sway
but we hold true
inside the values and morality
we stand for
fall for nothing
may stumble along the trip
may swerve at the wheel yet
do not lose our grip
because no one
can eclipse the sun
before they're done
Just when situations arise
flooding us with pain we despise
and just when it seems like
our tear ducts are dry
from ongoing cries
we may think
things are on the brink of ending
then God shows us the ways of faith
by way of love that he's sending
we make sure
every day enlightens us
and brightens us
as each day takes its turn.
Copyright © JSLambert Mister ROBOTO | Year Posted 2012
Authored by Chuck Keys
It had no color,
Lacking shape, size and dimension.
It wasn't moving or breathing.
There was neither aroma nor taste, not here or there.
Touching was useless because it wasn't physical.
It was indistinct and limitless.
Multi-sensually and multi-psychologically
It wasn't here or there and it was.
With no distinction,
It looked like everything else,
Or it could not have looked like everything else.
It never made me feel good nor bad,
Nor happy nor sad
Nor quite nor trite.
In our world of joy and destroy, we sort and distort,
Looking more on the surface and less on the inside,
Ready to judge and be judged from outside in.
The "oneness" of mankind stretches beyond definitions and limits,
From outside to inside and from inside to outside.
We are one distinct and alike world of "oneness."
Differences exist for differences,
Therefore, differences don't exist.
Only "oneness" exists.
This poem is dedicated to Dr. Clayborne Carson and The Gandhi-King Community,
For Global Peace with Social Justice in a Sustainable Environment.
Copyright © Chuck Keys | Year Posted 2010
We swallow boulders:
(lead words, molasses covered prejudice, glass shards of promises long broken)
Mouths open wide and heads tipped back
like Hawaiian fire eaters.
Chipped teeth are bits of porcelain history,
sliding down our throats in rivers of neglect
The stones settle,
Our stomachs are filled up, anvil weight
'till we can hardly sit, hardly stand, or walk.
We drag our feet in pain, as the quiet indicator that
we've had rocks for breakfast,
lunch, dinner, for years,
in the hopes that someone will recognize
the broken concrete footprints behind us
and touch us gently on the forearm:
"Honey, are you alright?"
(and isn't it the first sweet trickle of kind words that crumble
the already cracking facade?)
There's no stopping the torrent then,
tsunami tears and a heaving, convulsing
to the point of cathartic vomit-
boulders of every shape and size
tumbling out of our mouths and filling the room;
broken teeth and granite eyes
until we no longer see the floor, the walls...
And then serenity.
The hand has moved to the shoulder,
forming a universal hug.
"I'm here now... and you're ok."
We stand up, together, and leave that room,
a soundless void of yesterday,
to absorb the impermeability of stones,
carrying our gait buoyant, without gravity.
No weight at all now, and barely a second glance,
but to turn out the light - and lock the door behind us...
Copyright © Tatyana Carney | Year Posted 2006
There once was a man from Niagara
whose wiener's so long it would stab ya'
but when it got little
his pills became skittles
until he O.D.'d on Viagra
© ~JSLambert 2011*****A classic "stiff" competitor, standing "firm" amongst other "members" in the "thick" of the competition:) hope everyone gets "a rise" out of it!
Copyright © JSLambert Mister ROBOTO | Year Posted 2011
It jumps not to the thought of riches or the prospect of gold
For common treasures are not what it seeks
But rather it responds to that probable possibility
That it may have touched the depths of someone else's soul
It hearkens not to sparkling gems or lusts after a lifetime of wealth
For inside jewels lies the hearts of thieves
But rather it stirs at giving a word someone needs
For inspiration to even the smallest person is a diamond in itself
It doesn't ache for dollar bills or lurch at the sight of green
For nowadays money comes in many different forms
But rather it longs to patch up another heart that may have been torn
And once again to give that person's life meaning
It is a place where the world dare not or otherwise cannot go
A safe haven for valuables other than currency
A hidden trail where treasure means finding creativity
A path that only the hearts of poets know
Copyright © Lakisha Williams | Year Posted 2008
Don't hate her because she's beautiful
Or envy that she's hot
She is all about appearances
It consumes her every thought
Try to look a little closer
Past the makeup and the hair
Beauty has little value
If a person doesn't care
Looks are her priorities
She doesn't work on what's inside
People tell her she's beautiful
She gorges on her pride
She's an emotional anorexic
Soul food she refuses to eat
Her behavior reinforced
When people fall at her feet
She craves the admiration
The attention she receives
Pretty is her curse
In the end it's her disease
She becomes a caricature
Her illusion to maintain
Fighting the mirror and time
Over and over again
I appreciate a beautiful woman but the Beauty has to emanate from a much deeper place for me to truly appreciate it. The most beutiful women I have met have become more beautiful with each word they have spoken. We need to stop emphasizing the physical when we raise our children, we will then raise up a generation of truly beautiful people.
Copyright © Richard Lamoureux | Year Posted 2012
Feeling like a lodger
In my own home
Thankful for my music
And my new found roam
Families and communities
They are just so hard to find
But in April 2009
I found the most precious kind
I found the name amusing
So the button i clicked on to see
The layout was very inviting
Like an open door should be
For in a matter of minutes
On first uploading a poem
This Highlander was content
He had found a welcome home
So many lovely writers
Poets who share their bless
No longer this Scotsman is
The Man in the Wilderness
Copyright © James Fraser | Year Posted 2009
Our parents chose to join a cult
Nobody asked us
We went along with what they chose
Too small to make a fuss
This life was the norm,
We were fed on 'comic books'
Taught to worship porn.
While still children we became
'Flirty Fish for God'
We wore bright make up
Wore bright clothes
Walked dark streets alone.
We searched for men and sold them 'love'
They paid with souls and money.
We took them to 'church' convinced that we'd
Fulfilled all Gods wishes.
In innocence we walked the streets
We knew not what we did
Our parents were so proud of us
We were Gods'good fishes
Now this sect has all but gone
What's become of us?
Are we your neighbours or your friend
Maybe someone on a bus!
Are we filling up the jails ?
Or selling sex for pennies?
Are we shooting up with drugs
To blot out all our memories?
Are we alcoholics,drowning out our sorrow,
Pity the poor 'Flirty Fish
Fulfilling someone elses' wish
For them no bright tomorrow.
Copyright © elsie haslett | Year Posted 2006
I do not know?
All this hyped up glam and glitz
giggly girls break down in fits
these mascara clad boys devoid of wits
The shallower they go, the deeper it gets
Sillouettes lacking inner angles and lines...
The substance goes absent when the light shines...
Plotless drama without direction, still winds
These tragically bad fads spread like vines
Overrun with Reality shows depicting what's REAL
A mass zombie audience digesting their meal
Not In, but outside, this box they soften like veal
Staring at a screen that numbs how they feel
When did the war on intelligence start?
Losers not knowing that losing's not smart...
Cable providers gladly doing their part
News channels selling half-truth ala carte
I will be a rebel and fight for your mind
Hiding remote-controls where they won't find
Trading entertainment for knowledge in kind
Giving books out to the voluntarily blind
It's gonna be a BATTLE!!! WHO'S COMING WITH ME??!!
Copyright © Steve Voorhees | Year Posted 2009
two bible-blabbering, prattling pastors
from two denominational sectors
ended up in stitches and bloody plasters;
those around said it actually began
when one yelled, "faith alone can save a man!",
the other screamed, "only charitable acts can!";
swinging bulky bibles, shouting curses,
they whacked each other's eardrums and noses,
bludgeoned and bloodied their righteous faces;
so ironic, how they maimed each other
for faith, for charity and didn't bother
to heed the Lord's words: "Love one another."
Copyright © romeo naces | Year Posted 2007
I do not know?
I read it from the bathroom wall.
God alone save's us one and all.
Along with other mixed obscenities like
for a good time call.
Some read rise against.
Others read Elivis was here.
God bless America communist take fear.
Its the lost and found of misspelled words
were the misfits gather do they all.
Im stuck here in a inconvertible position reading writtings from
I strain to read Robert and Beth forever.
whomever they are.
I question does this bathroom last through stormy weather.
I wonder what kind of philosopher finds solice in such a dingy
Do they comb the wall just lookin for space.
Theres traces of blood from a drunken brawl.
Im sitting in the true melting pot of the world.
Reading writtings from the bathroom wall.
Copyright © John Patrick Robbins AKA Gonzo | Year Posted 2009
‘The Power Of A Poet’ 32nd Senryu
Look How Devoted
The Power of A Poet
See How Words Spoke It
This Poem is My Tribute to:
Carolyn Devonshire (The Dove)
and James (The Highlander) Fraser
for your Powerful collaboration on:
Mother Nature's Revenge
It Was Truly Awesome
Copyright © MoonBee Canady | Year Posted 2009
I was a bright, outgoing boy, who sat at the front of the class.
Then, one day that all changed, i feared to even raise my hand for a pass.
I had many close friends, loved sports and school plays.
Then on that day fear beset me, and long gone were those days.
I remember my school, i knew it inside and out.
But now i have blank spots, certain things i've shut out.
Thanks to God and His mercy, i don't recall that foul act.
But i know that it happened, no doubt, that's a fact.
Now, to the person who did this, i have nothing to say.
But, my God will remember, and He'll get you someday!
Copyright © stanley copley | Year Posted 2006
Who is more righteous,
The pious man who watches in awe,
Or the faithless man saving those in the blaze?
Who is stronger,
The man who lifts a ton with one arm,
Or the mother of four on her own?
Who has lost more,
The man who has lost his money,
Or the man who has lost his love?
Who is weaker,
The man who can't fight back,
Or the man who won't fight for him?
Who Is more savage,
The man who doesn't know right from wrong,
Or the man who doesn't care?
Who is wiser,
The man who has the answers,
Or the man who asks the questions?
Copyright © Michael McOrus | Year Posted 2005
A void of Facebook
Creativity dies here...
Copyright © Dan Keir | Year Posted 2013
Community, what does it mean
And how does it come into being
Well what does the dictionary have to say
“A group of people living together in one place”
I guess that means were all in community
Though if I were to speak in honesty
It feels like we try to live separately
Living by the culture of our country
Which tells us, do it yourself
If your strong, you don’t ask for help
Life is about personal advancement
About money and accomplishments
Hold onto your hardships and pain
Keep striving for personal gain
So many lies deeply engrained
How will we create change?
Well I start with myself
I ask for help
I start with me
I be the change I want to see
I become an infectious contagion
In all of my relations
That could spread across a population
Even across the nations
I model my life after the master of love
Who dwells in the heavens above
He has brought millions even billions together
Over decades, centuries, even millenniums
So what else could be better
Than to faithfully follow him
He who said, I was anointed
to proclaim good news to the poor
to proclaim freedom for the prisoners
and recovery of sight for the blind,
to set the oppressed free”
and I say yeah that’s who I want to be
But unless I engage in community
Unless I get to know my fellow human beings
How can I help to set them free
So its time for me to put aside
Popular culture, foolish pride
Social codes, selfish ambitions
Old roads, and useless traditions
And blaze a brand new trail
With my life, write a new tale
Introduce a new theme
Add in a few more characters
And then dare to dream
About how my story could impact theirs
And their’s impact mine
Because maybe just, maybe
It might be better, might just be
Not to say, I did it on my own
All this, look I did it alone
No maybe it would be better
If we did it together
So that no matter what my lot
I can always know that I’ve got
Friends, right until the very end
Help, ready to be sent
Hands willing to be lent
So what need would I have for advancement
For money and accomplishment
I can find all that I need
Everything I seek from this life,
In relationship with fellow human beings
Community, Maybe this is what it means
Copyright © Roland Fleming | Year Posted 2013
God is always love
Forever seek the kingdom;
Praise the creator
Keep giving what you can give
Please endure until the end
Protecting the meek ones earth
Watching over us
Helping us to cope with life
Comforted with hope and trust
When you find rhythm
You find your hearts inner core
Celebrate the times
Make them better than before
Reminisce and dance all night
Copyright © humble b | Year Posted 2013
Sometimes I am happy, sometimes I am sad.
Sometime I sing, sometimes I stammer
Sometimes I dance on the music of my soul, Sometimes I dance on the fingers of
one single person
Sometimes I expect so much from others; sometime I myself can’t meet my own
Sometime I make fun of others and feel bad later, sometimes life makes fun of me
and I smile
Sometime I win and sometimes I lose, sometimes I don’t even understand whether I
won or lost.
Sometimes I laugh as if whole world is with me,
Sometimes I cry as if I am alone wandering in a strange land
Sometimes I give up so easily
Sometimes I work so hard that no one can stop me to achieve what I want
Sometimes I am dynamic person, who wants to change the world,
And sometimes I am a kid who expects anyone to embrace him tightly.
Sometimes I feel happy about the achievement of my enemy
Sometime I feel dejected with my own success.
Sometimes I help others and show them the right path
Sometimes I feel totally helpless and don’t know where to go
Sometimes I ask god to please give my past back
Sometimes I pray to show me the way forward
Life is composed of SOMETIMES and I just flow with that.
U admit or not but you are also sailing on the same boat.
So join me and enjoy it EVERYTIME as SOMETIMES life is very short!
Copyright © Rajat Singhal | Year Posted 2014
To see ourselves as others see us --
unmasked images, through others' eyes --
half-formed caricatures, perhaps --
or mere grotesqueries --
barely recognized, telling
what we thought to hide --
we'd label these as skewed
perceptions, not real truth...
But, no matter -- when once
I thought myself unfairly judged
and asked "How so?",
I was reminded of the obvious,
i.e.: all outcomes are determined
by perceived attitudes and actions.
Not truth, but clear perception,
pure appearance, guide others' thoughts
and so create the world we live in.
Thus, however harsh,
"Perception is reality."
Copyright © Leo Larry Amadore | Year Posted 2012
Allow altruistic artistry among ailing american adversaries.
Bartering begins before begging beasts break brothers.
Capture calamity controlling catastrophe calming castration.
Dedicate decisions directed down dreary deaf disillusionment.
Eradicate equality earning efficient energetic epiphany.
Follow fallen foreigners forgetting faithful flight from fluid folly.
Gasping greatness growing grapes given golden goodness.
Halt hollow hearts hearing helpless happiness.
Imagine impurity imitating indestructible ice inflicting impotent illness.
Justify jolly jerusalem jingling janitors joining january’s jewelry.
Kill kindergarten kings kicking kindly kindred kilts.
Lament likeable links lingering lowly light like lavender letters.
Mount monetary moments melting motherly marshal monuments.
Negate nightly notions noticing nurtured naughty nakedness.
Open oblivious obligation of odd operative oceans.
Propagate proposed premonitions producing proud pirate papas.
Quiet quilted questions quickly quoting quaint qualm quandary.
Remember righteous royalty returning rotten remnant rage.
Skip silent sulking surrounding super salty sounds squeezing sanity.
Teach talented tearful tyrants total trivial topics training treason.
Utter utopian universality upon united unitarian usurpers.
Violate vermin validity valuing victorious vomiting virgin volunteers.
Wash wandering women wondering whether western whiteness welcomes war.
X-ray xeric xenophobic xylem-made xebec.
Yearn yellow yearlings yelling yonder yuletide yachtsmen.
Copyright © Justin Presson | Year Posted 2007
America has another name
her name is Freedom
hidden behind political, racial, medical
economical, educational, social
all fixed corporations
means extra banks
we the people protest our freedom
we’re calling for freedom
America show us our freedom
life requires no credits to score
we are enlightened beings
so much more
so much more than rich man, poor man
Groundhog-----going in circles
working 15 hours a day man
we’re calling for freedom
liberty is our birthright
to roam the earth at will is our birthright
we are freedom
we say freedom
America live up to your name
your name is Freedom
freedom is the word
word is law
America follow the law
the law says freedom
we demand truth
we demand mental freedom
Copyright © Nailah Baniti | Year Posted 2015
“There is a time for each season…
To everything made…
There is a divine reason.
A time for purpose under
the heavens above…
A time for meaning from a God of love.
A time to be born. A time to die…
A time to farm the ground
under the beautiful sky.
A time to kill. A time to heal...
A time to tear down and
to build up with a passion and zeal
A time for weeping. A time for laughing…
A time to mourn. A time for dancing.
A time to keep...
A time to throw away.
A time to tear. A time to make amends today.
A time to get. A time for losing…
A time to keep. And to give
away at our choosing.
A time for silence. A time to speak…
A time for each hour
and day of the week.
A time for love. A time for hate…
A time for war. A time for peace at your gate.
How will you spend the time
God has given to you?
What is your choice? What will you do???
May this be a time living in
God’s purpose and design.
He created you and made
everything beautiful in his time!
By Jim Pemberton 05/22/10
Read Eccl. 3:1-11
Copyright © Jim Pemberton | Year Posted 2011
in the air high
eyes wearing out
Than-Bauk written for Rick Parise's contest
Copyright © JSLambert Mister ROBOTO | Year Posted 2011
I like it
For my soul!
Copyright © Ernesto P. Santiago | Year Posted 2006
Since first I saw you, it was your eyes,
mesmerizing, your gaze transporting
me to a realm, not of fantasy, real,
where young men go when cupid’s
arrow takes root.
Since first I saw you, it was your lips,
captivating, holding me frozen
in anticipation of our lips brushing
for the first time.
Since first I saw you, it was your voice,
a crescendo, light, invigorating,
each word you speak intensifies
my hearing, enveloping each
note, time ceases as I hang motionless
Since first I saw you, it was your hair,
long, flowing, gently rising above
your shoulders as a slight breeze
passes through sending waves
of your essence my way.
The sun magnifying each strand,
highlighting the minute
variances of invigorating color,
creating a halo effect, a portrait of
your beauty forever imprinted.
Since first I saw you, It was you,
my love forever more for you,
Copyright © Mac McGovern | Year Posted 2010
A fool was crowned
And now we`re bound
To serve and please
On hands and knees,
To hate and smile
Each day and mile,
We feel defeat
And kiss his feet.
The foolish kings
Cut off our wings.
Their poisoned knife-
Our foolish life.
And faith`s refuse
Won`t save our muse,
When banned to fly,
She`ll fall and die.
Still time will flow-
Kings come and go.
But teams of mules,
That choose the fools
To be ahead
Alive and dead,
Won`t change a bit
The fate they meet.
They`ll choke on pride,
They`ll run and hide
And in their shells
That life was cruel
To have set the rule-
“Do as you`re told,
Silence is gold.”
We pay the price
To hide our vice:
The coward `s role-
To lie and crawl.
And hope someday
Things`ll come our way,
We`ll find the might
To rise and fight.
Copyright © Marina A | Year Posted 2008
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....
Copyright © humble b | Year Posted 2012
I am whatever you say I am...
but, let's get back to reality...
Three short years ago, this room shined welcome mats across a screen of doldrums.
A place of unfamiliarity that screamed,
"You don't belong!"
Yet, a voice of reason spoke and said,
"Expand yir' roots. Venture beyond the comfort zone. Academia resides inside that room, but know you won't be alone."
Repeatedly,brainwaves declined what my wife and editor had told me.
"no way, I'm givin' up my soul for free, they read, they pay, like it's always been, the way it's going to always be!"
Unbeknownst to me one day, and with a slight of hand, my "Open Sores" were put on display and surprisingly more than a handful of great ladies and nice guys began to give feedback on what I had devised.
This interaction was something very new, helpful, and impressive. For a change, it was something real.
For years, those around me were quick to give praise with hidden reasons. Constructive criticism is amazing, and I welcomed being corrected or set straight.
Now there are those who choose to shut me down without explanation, and call me names.
DO NOT mistake me for sophomoric! These words bleeding from my guts have no style and need no approval. There is no thinking involved here, no plan. If you don't like it, fine...don't censor or bracket me in. So what if I am illiterate? If you don't like "street poetry" or the pathetic stuff I write, don't read it. If I offend you, tell me.
We should welcome those who are different than us.
Words of truth inspire movement, like fire.
I came to this room to expand my horizons, step outside the box, learn, help, grow.
There will be no apologies dealt for being different, or for being labelled as something uncomfortable to you.
This has been an ok room so far, but there is some clique trickanery going on.
If the dictionary must come into play, let me recommend looking up the term "Poetic License."
True, I may not be the writer you prefer, or aspire to be....but tread carefully my friend, for you have no idea of my profession. I've made a fine living, for a good long time, spewing words onto paper. I came from nothing, and may still be nothing to you...still, I do what I love, have no boss.
I am not an aspiring writer who dreams of a life, I live my dream. In conclusion, I must wish you luck in finding what you peddle poetry for. Until then, keep
Copyright © JSLambert Mister ROBOTO | Year Posted 2011
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.
Copyright © William Ward | Year Posted 2006