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
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
Angelic words she places in lines with care.
Never heard a discouraging word, she did share.
Deeper emotions she does write so clear.
Reality is her concern, realism so sincere.
Excitement sometimes rules her lines.
A woman of deep and emotional designs,
Deeply passionate about so many things in life,
I never met her though read her poetic rife.
Each time she visits others words she reads.
Telling others so sweetly she plants seeds,
Respectfully she instills poetic writings in another.
I saw onetime she felt like a sonnet unwritten.
Carefully I wrote this for her, an earth mother.
Having friendship in mind never was smitten.
I have a sort of gift that allows me to sense certain feelings about people without even meeting them....and usually my first intuition if you want to call it that is perfectly correct.
....no matter what it is about or who it is about I have to write it or my soul is clouded and pain grows within...Blessings..Cecil
Here’s my plea: Let’s write a poem for the world to read;
And in it is a message that all can relate or heed;
Encourage others to pick a pen instead of a gun;
With this poem let people be taught to bond
all spirits, whether in distress or in joy with a smile;
This poem we write be a reminder that life is fragile;
That peace is at hand, only if we want to achieve;
People will learn to greet enemies and they shall be received;
All of us can write, whether you’re white, black, or brown;
Just believe in what you can do; and not to aspire the crown
Of hate, if you dare tomorrow comes without tears,
Nor will there be worries of living in fears;
With this poem, people will burst not
In paroxysm of rage, but, be inspired to share a lot
Such as love, hope, or maybe, just give a friendly kiss;
You know, it’s easy to write a poem, than writing peace.
Camino en sociedad de ignorancia,
Donde palacios son corruptos por efectos de arrogancia;
Pasan por nuestros lados,
Echando el ojo, tratando de disimular;
Donde la conciencia es absentista,
Donde todos dicen ser abstencionistas,
Pero, todos son ambiciosos, consumidos y absorbidos por hipocresía...
Camino en sociedad abolicionista,
Donde abolicionan toda aventura,
Donde la única aventura es abolir la sociedad,
Siendo una sociedad abstraída y egoísta,
Poniendo todo lindo, pero con abusividad escondida,
Siendo una sociedad de imbéciles accionistas,
Mostrando intransigencia acérrima y decisiva,
Pero, todos son perezosos basados en negligencia anarquista...
Camino en sociedad de advertencia,
Donde los reprimidos quedan agrisados,
Donde los rechazados y solitarios quieren valentía,
Donde la paz social va desvaneciendo,
Donde la minoría quiere acracia y amnistía de la sociedad,
Para derrocar la corona trastornada y distorcionada...
Camino en sociedad amorfa,
Donde nos han forzado ansias a través de propaganda alarmista,
Donde existen muchos agiotistas fraudulentos,
Donde propias convicciones son raramente afianzadas y aseguradas,
Donde la autoridad permanece en mordacidad y acrimonia,
Donde los realistas son fastidiados y ajusticiados,
Donde las miradas autoritarias son falsamente alegatorias,
Donde muchos permanecen injustamente en incertidumbre ambigua...
Solo a través de sabios ojos,
Es que existen verdaderas experiencias;
Con mirada fiera,
Con mirada de ira,
Con mirada desamparada,
Con mirada sigilosa,
Con mirada misteriosa;
Con toda mirada real existe vida lúcida y estragos mortíferos...
Camino en sociedad de odio,
Donde toda mirada se vuelve rencorosa,
Camino en sociedad de miradas,
Donde las paredes escuchan y hablan,
Donde las divisiones son provocadas,
Apuñalando nuestras espaldas;
Piensan que es un simple juego de carcajadas,
Pero, todos son hipócritas a través de siniestras miradas,
Que me tratan de dejar en agrafia,
Con el juego de las miradas...
Sometimes my poetry is just a case of words,
and not necessarily my reality;
and that’s what is so beautiful about writing
You can be who you want to be on any level
and tell secrets about fantasies that may never be;
or take trips to other dimensions on mental journeys, or places that some don’t even think exist
They mimic thoughts that manifest themselves as poetry
and rest on pages patiently waiting to adhere
My words are a reflection of my heart
and they reveal the truth behind my mask of fear
they deliver reality doses whether they are just cases,
or me in the absolute right here
My words exude positive intentions;
my imperfections apparent but I accepted rejections
and reversed dejection
and decided to bare all my fantasies, my flaws my very soul
Uncertain how voiced verses appeal to outside sources but internally they set me free
They provide a medium of light and creativity
A chance to apply knowledge and a time for reflecting on and making changes in my frequency
My words are attached to my soul and its overwhelming ability to just be
They reflect what I was before
the choices I’ve made and the reasons that this life is perfect
according to divine order
They represent the voices of my ancestors from the beginning of time
because up until now,
the ending wasn’t within reach so I make sure that I
carefully choose the format and the right place and time
to deliver the message that may be blatant or hidden inside –
of the abstract placements of verbs
giving praise to the source of power that calmly submits to the voice
connected to my words
I am the originator of my own words
I hope that you are inspired, or simply entertained
by the process by which I've placed my words
A void of Facebook
Creativity dies here...
A puzzle piece you are to me
Like a vine without any leaves.
Your heart is pure your soul is
Gold, the sweetest thing I'll
ever hold! A miracle in my eyes
it seemed, knowing they said
no babies for me! Always a
surprise you seem to be just
like a puzzle piece! At 9 months
you walked but not until 4 did
you first talk! Always a terror
making a beautiful mess always
a surprise that has yet to be
met! The twists and turns I
know we will see will seem
somewhat like a roller coaster
to me! The milestones and
special gifts you bring will make
my life seem Like a dream, my
special boy I have always said
How special I knew not till
Aspergers they said! The
journey will be trying the
journey will seem long! But
with our family together we will
chug along! My special boy I
love you so and cannot wait to
see you mature and grow! Now
we have a goal we have our
dream you see to make you the
perfect fitting puzzle piece!!
Written by: Christina Kirks
McCullouch 04/05/2012 For
Jonathan S McCullouch Jr
Mommy loves you to eternity
and beyond! Forever and
The Soul is the Beautiful Light of Love
Shining like the sun through the
As the reader, I’m going to have to cut you off there.
Here’s a metaphor for you…
Reading is ****ing.
And your words hit our auditory canals
Like a hotdog down a hallway.
As an experienced reader, I’m after
The virgin vernacular
The aphrodisiac aphorism
You know- the big… black words
You feel me?
Because a line is a flashlight, exposing the world’s nudity-
And we’ll never get anywhere shining it in the same spot.
So kiss me with classy couplets
Smack my assonance!
Bring me to the climax-
And we’ll share a smoke together,
Warm beside the fire of your Three Inch Clichés.
My dreams and desires
Are to write to inspire
I have so much to give
That is my reason to live
Peace always invades my spirit
I’m so glad my soul welcomes it
My compass to my life is lost
I cannot navigate the way home so pen pays the cost
I will always write to find my way
To my God I pray
As the realization dawned on me
When my pen flows I’m free
I can be anybody I want to be
So many of us have to settle for a life of deception
I shall soar beyond this world's limitations
In all things, follow your heart
In life be careful how you walk and talk
Think it, believe it
Don’t hold back do it
Let your dream grow
Please let God take control
I do not know?
Oh well here I go again,
wishin for a dream that I could be wrapped in,
torn away from addiction,
destroy the tele…
vision they strive to force upon you,
its all false but you know I’m true.
They will not protect you when you scream your broken cries,
they are merely evil faces of masked men behind illuminati eyes
with which they hypnotize,
brainwash you with their lies.
I've got those deep thoughts pouring in,
all the roads I've traveled down
conditions I have traveled in
here in my pretty town,
the 910 deserves a crown.
East Coast I'm representing,
I promise you I am not venting.
High on that purple haze,
And still haven't slept for days,
excuse these bloodshot eyes
with a krispy kreme glaze,
some will try to say its just a silly phase...
My mind is so graphic,
use words like special tactics,
unmistakable like D'Jango,
or a peace signs' angle,
destroy the crave for war and struggle,
no need to explain all the trouble,
with places burstin’ into rubble,
Rebel! Rebel! We’ll show ‘em hell!
I’ll be fightin’ when I'm dead,
kick and scream till my blood is shed,
let authorities know the message will be spread!
Put on a show with a little bit of passion
or the bad things will continue to happen.
Get the love through your head,
all this hatred should be dead,
what I'm saying must be said,
before the gauge goes into red.
With vocabulary this brilliant makes a female more vigilant,
like brothers boston what I speak
my words alone will make you weak, make you faint,
Like blood spilled by hands of a vigilante saint,
trust me lifes too short,
you dont have the time my young cohort,
wait until your words make an enemy
cause their threatened by the uncertainty
that you will make it this far
make a point unlike this war
next thing you know you see ‘em sweat
words fresh like paint drippin with purpose,
makin ‘em wet.
I finger paint a master piece with a just simple rhyme,
just don't pull your piece on me just let me speak, my mind,
while I unwind, rewind all this blasphemy,
I may have to beg and plead so that my boys can rest in peace
sorry for the interruption,
don’t blame me for the corruption,
for now I'll put my words at ease,
hope you told someone you loved them today and that it wasn't a white lie,
just a tease.
They assigned me me to write a sonnet about the life of a drunken writer
whose dream wouldn't shatter, but his foolishness wasn't in the past tense;
he spent endless hours reading blogs of people who didn't make sense...
in chat rooms he found geeks, charlatans and a casual liar.
These are the ones who can text all day as kids do for fun...
what's the excuse for being late and perform with a brainless head?
Here's proof of his laziness: he didn't write anything to earn him bread.
" Wake up, your work is piling up...you snore as pigs in a barn! "
the co-worker in the next booth sneered as the boss approached Fred
who stuttered and tried to explain why he couldn't get the work done...
while his breath stunk and couldn't stand him looking awfully mad.
" I need that article by tomorrow, or you'll get a pink slip and are gone! "
" Sir, the last article was a hit...you liked that sex-pot with those boobs! "
" Why can't I write about today's generation who have the speed of raccoons? "
Why go to sleep?
Why we are the ones that have missing things.
Why take a breeze?
When I am the one that needs zephyr.
Why cry until you are satisfied?
When you are always dissatisfied.
Why go and feel contempt?
When we only need respect.
So, why do you expose yourself?
When you haven't cleansed yourself.
Why go and overreact?
When you sometimes don't make a great impact.
Why go and bite?
When you know you cannot eat more than you can chew.
When you only deserve.
Why shed some tears?
When they sometimes aren't clear.
Why are you happy?
When you know you are lying.
Why are we bleeding?
When we only need healing.
So, why live?
When we go and die.
And why die?
When we want life.
We might fall down,
But it is never too late,
by : Sashi.Prabhu (zeauoxian)
The day before yesterday was laced with dismay in every possible way,
Yesterday was better but has into the backdrop faded away.
But today is another day,
New stuff to think, do and say.
Today I will brave the world all alone,
And enjoy my freedom full blown.
I will live life with zest,
Try neverto do things second best.
I will live to be sensitive,
Towards others be more receptive.
I will live to be forgiving,
Be more tolerant and caring.
I will speak to all who walk my path,
Make peace with all and unnecessarily not unleash quaint wrath.
I will correct all my wrongs,
And tell this to all by making them my songs.
I will proudly write notes about the new me,
And publish and upload them for all to see.
I will work to be creative,
And learn to open my mind’s eye and not be obstructive.
I will always proudly wear my own neoteric attitude,
To succeed, master the skill of gratitude.
The day before yesterday was laced with dismay in every possible way,
Yesterday was better but has into the backdrop faded away.
And today is the right day,
To commence these fresh new things that I write and say
theme: a fresh new start
date:9th march 2012,
A serpent underneath blue sky,
in shade of man, in twinkle of an eye,
above brick wall, in the structure, at the floor,
venom of white dove; contaminated food, undrinkable water,
misguided youth, pregnant daughter, unfaithful father and hateful son,
mothers do pray while we walk through Babylon;
on teli and in the press, on top shells,
price none the less, in bedroom and at your door..
dawn of a new day seemed to be dark,
I think I self-sabotage unknowingly
because of fear
So my message goes unheard because I’m afraid to let the people hear
And end up drowning in the poetic blues
doubting my ability to write about the truth;
I dug deeper and deeper into myself trying to write a poem good enough to be free of judgment
Then I stepped out on faith and suddenly I was triumphant
and my writing grew
and I was loving it
I had finally passed the fear of speaking and caring about who the fu*c! was judging it
As I wait to be inspired for the next poem,
I sit and think alone and drown in my sorrows
Listening to jazz, blues and a.m. radio
trying to find an excuse not to perform at the SLAM
because again I can’t think of a damn thing to write…..
Drowning in poetic blues
Will this be the one that will be thrown away and never be used
Or will this be the one that transcends the others
and finally prove that poetry is blues and blues is poetry and hip hop and jazz and r&b,
Poetry is music and the words dance around in my soul
and I am free once they become spoken
In the meantime the paper is where the words will rest
until the silence is broken
Drowning in the sea of proper delivery
My voice, my stance, my intensity
How will others interpret the words that I’ve chosen so diligently?
I wrap my soul around the possibility that none of the words I choose –
will keep me from becoming deluged and trapped by the poetic blues
Somehow my heart refuses to accept that I don’t deserve to have my words heard
and it takes over this whole process
No more time for shrinking and feeling less
I was born to make my words manifest light
I am a gorgeous medium to the truth yeah that's right
I was sent here to give you a piece of good news
Remember that God is with you when you get
The poetic blues
They're watching you,
they're always watching you,
check out the daily news.
Henchmen rob bank,
two officers killed,
a celebraity stumbling out of a club,
drunk as hell.
a gay couple buying a house,
in a white collar neighborhood.
They're watching you,
they're always watching you,
even when you don't know it.
Someone is always watching you.
Take out the trash,
wash the dishes.
like a camera.
they're always watching you,
Politians always watching you.
FBI and CIA
Always watching you.
Smile for the camera
so just wave and smile.
Bullies on playground jungle-gyms
looking out for the ugly nerd,
Hiding under the woodchips,
get him, beat him up,
I told you, they're always watching you.
Look at me,
look what I can do,
can you see me?
I'll drink to that,
for they're always watching.
But I wasn't heard,
But you scattered,
But you destroyed,
But you acted,
We were determined,
But you exterminated...
You were blind,
I was sighted,
You were darkened,
I was lightened,
I was myself,
You weren't yourself...
I was lone,
No one cared.
I was ignored,
No one cared,
About my emotions...
Why do we feel hatred?
We fear discontrol.
Why don't they get it?
Why don't they comprehend?
Why do we wait?
Why do we protect?
Why do we run?
We fear destiny.
Why does it hurt?
Why does it burn?
Why do we fight?
Why do they betray us?
We fear love,
We fear friendship.
Why do we keep?
Why is it deep?
We fear the abyss.
We fear darkness,
We fear light.
Why do we live?
Why do we die?
Why do we suffer?
We fear death,
We fear life.
We all live,
We all die,
We all keep,
We all fight,
We all suffer,
We all cry,
We all love,
We all wait,
We all give,
We all receive,
We all trust,
We all wish,
We all dream,
We all remember,
We all feel...
We all vanish,
We all rise,
We can ignite.
We fear destruction.
We all expect,
We all regret,
We all lie.
Why do we create?
Why do you stare?
Why do they glare?
We all think,
We all see,
We all go,
We all deserve,
We all pass,
We all fear...
Might this be a wonder,
Might this be a sunder,
Might this be the blocker,
Might this be the warder,
Might there be a plunder,
Might it pass the border,
Might there be a dweller,
Might they be lodgers,
Should they be squatters,
Should they be trespassers...
Might they squander,
Might it scatter,
Might this be a sputter,
Might there be a clutter,
Moght there be to many clusters,
Might this be the controller
Mightit get power...?
Might these be handlers,
Might these be forcers,
Might these be the squashers,
Might these be the breakers,
Breaking some of the order...
Might this be a night,
Going to a wretched midnight,
Coming from a raging twilight,
Until these be ended, throughout nighttime,
Later waking from our bedtime,
Maybe dying to see the morning light,
Might this be happening tonight...?
Might there be a knight,
Might there be a fight,
Waiting for a shining might,
Coming from some rainbow's light,
coming slight from the nighttime,
With some waiting for their fly...
Might these fight the ghouls,
Might they get to their goal,
Might this vanish some ghosts,
Whom want all of our souls...
Might this be other things,
Might these be the lives of life,
With some asking, might these be I...?
This is a poem.
It's not abstract.
So if you just sit back and listen,
I'm going to say this poem twice,
so listen with your heart the first time
but listen with your heart again
Say good morning when someone says good morning to you
Speak when spoken to
Look a person in the eye and be confident even if you're not
and be willing to learn what you know not
Don't be so quick to speak out loud
and then cover your mouth in shame
once you realize what just came out
It's too late - so think before you shout
Be accountable for your actions
Your character is defined by what you do when people aren't looking
because when they are
They see in your behavior all the doings of the heart
So be honest with yourself and do the right thing...it's not hard
Use life's resources
I know what it's like to be in dark places
going through trials - unhappy child
But learning and reading and growing is all relative to your future
So escape in a poem or good book
and don't let the enemy defeat you
Stay in touch with positive members of your family ties
Record yourself saying wonderful things about your life
Recite them daily...then write
Be the first to offer respect
give others a chance to talk
Be humble, but never nobody's fool
Don't allow others to mistreat you
Stand up for your rights and have a voice,
but do it with dignity and be tactful.
Go ahead..wear your skinny jeans and your bangles
but accept other for their style, their view
see things from their angle
Pull those pants up..tuck those shirts in
and stop trying to be gangsta
If I can see your underwear thats unacceptable behavior
and it's not okay
It's embarrasing to the struggle and it's a disgrace
It's time to move past the stereotypes of race
I know you got alot to face
but once you learn what your ancestors did to get you to this place,
It will seem like a walk in the park
and you'll be proud to have helped the case
Young people I tell you
if you follow these rules
You can change the world
and become a generation renewed
Festered lament maddens me
Why must the despair of my heart’s desire
Truly enlighten me?
I rested among the sick and lame
And found myself no different from the rest
For a troubled mind holds endless poverty
Penniless regret marks as a sickness no doctor can prescribe
For the bottles of balm are empty
And medicinal hope grows angry
I derived my madness from creativity
Revealing the remains of my humanity
‘Cool off, child’, I heard a soft voice whisper
But can’t you see I live off the flame?
It asks for no nickel or dime!
But it seeks to destroy all the same
The small voice returns at times
And often my heart listens
But we all listen
And only believe in the inevitability of pain
I speak of the majority
Not of you
For you are blessed and beyond disgrace
You have a life—a beautiful face
And most of all, you are rich
With attributes I can only dream of
You are rich with life and purpose
Holding inscrutabilities I can only wish to understand
You lift me without touch or care
Disposing me from your treasures
Because though you meant no harm,
You are rich with blessing
And must remove all possible threats
So my festered lament
Remains an enlightenment
I can say I am rich in poverty
But you are forever rich
What hurts the most is knowing
I may be wrong about you
For you are so obscure in this mind
And as empty as I am I wish to be filled
In your richness
But we all are filled to the brim in the end
And sometimes I cannot distinguish the good from the bad
There is nothing I wish to discard
So I hoard in constant deficiency and despair
And I hoard the idea that you are beyond compare
That you are rich
And always will be richer
Than me—or he
I do not know?
The Cowardice of the Taliban and The Silence of The Good Muslims.
When hot lead tears the flesh of a 14 year old girl,
ripping through her skull,
leaving her to bleed out and die,
does Allah not recoil in horror,
to see His child whimper,
to see His daughter cry.
Where is the indignation,
the anger that often boils over and manifests itself as flags and books and videos are burnt in mass orgies of hollow piety,
where are the voices that scream so loud,
that denounce all but their own creed,
where are the men, the impotent men who crave for nothing more than their fascist egos to feed,
where are the voices that so loudly proclaim,
enemies here and enemies there, always quick to condemn,
where are those voices when the enemy walks amongst them.
14 year old Malala Yousafzai was shot in cold blood,
Advocating the rights of girls to an education.
Shame on you, men of bigotry and men of cowardice.
Shame on you, silent and mute accomplices in this carnage.
Shame on me,
for my inaction,
Shame on us all,
who proclaim lofty ideals,
yet are conspicuously silent,
when a 14 year old girl is shot in the head,
by fascist fundamentalist bigots who only worship bullets of hot lead.
Not in my name!
Not in my name,
shall the cowardly men rain down abuse,
Not in my name,
shall the bigoted men light the communalistic fuse,
Not in my name,
shall Malala Yousafzai be shot in the head,
left to bleed out,
while countless mothers' tears are shed,
not in my name,
shall religious murderers,
be left to wander free,
not in my name,
for I dare all believers to open their eyes,
the innocence of a 14 year old girl,
wanting only an education,
as the men of the cloth,
prance around with their pathetic self-righteous indignation.
I write this today,
the anger raging in my veins,
yet I fear,
that I shall write more of this,
unless we stand up and say 'no more',
I fear that I shall be writing this again,
until we all,
reclaim the true principles of humaneness,
until we silence the voices of bigotry,
of fanatical insanity,
I fear I shall be writing this again,
until the muck-ridden bile,
is not excised,
I shall continue to say,
NOT IN MY NAME!
Or else I shall have nothing,
but my unending shame.
(for Malala Yousafzai, 14 years old, in a critical condition after being shot in the head by the Pakistani Taliban, for her work as a young activist advocating the rights of girls to attend school)
ive got hurt feelings ive got hurt feelings. it hurts our feelings when you say were not wrappers were wrappers. some people say wrappers are invincible were vincible. ive got hurt feelings ive got hurt feelings. i ask my friends to post on my poems but they just say behind my back that its close to terrible. ive got hurt feelings ive got hurt feelings. have you ever been told that you dont write poems. I WRITE POEMS you just dont know what poetry is. it is whatever comes from the heart! ive got hurt feelings ive got hurt feelings.
Writing is my thing. My drug of choice. My bling bling.
I fall in love with the similies and mentions of passion while wrapping my body in
Creating complicated rhythms and making them simples as instances
Every line a differenet emphasis
Commas, explinations and periods
Sometimes rhyming and sometimes not
Stopping to puff so my thoughts can lock
Feeding hungry souls starved from starvation
Creating new creations
Making people feel the sensation as I build up to mind elevation
The quest for knowledge is not a game
Spoken movements teach about the pain
I write to ease the pain
Rhythms run deep
Deep underneath clouded visions of unspoken truth lies a message
a message...a message that should be taught accurately to the youth
About the struggle of a people that was misued
abused, refused, confused, raped, beaten down
portrayed as clowns, coons, niggers, fools
Modern day niggas and goons
Wake up!! Did you hear the news?
You are responsible for you!
Imagine how it would be tho
If we were uninterrupted and brought overseas yo
Uprooted from a line of royalty kings and queens
Africa unite is all we'd sing
Rhythms run deeper into the seams of my being
I write to ease the pain of the oppressed
I write to celebrate their success
I write to educate the rest
The message..The message..The message is very clear
No time time to waste
The time is NOW
there are those that need
structure even in their art
for me, I'll write it
however it comes to me
sorry if it don't fit
in your poetry
mold, keeps me from growing old
you wouldn't want that
so write your tight 'lil
lines and I will still write mine
hopefully we can
share some dreams and things
and for each of us it will
still be very real
I did not find myself to be so important
So I ask my friends do I seem distant?
When I ask the question I had received an answer, Yes
So I think that made it clear that I had been not the best
I am a friend of a friend that talks so many things
That friend talks to much it is insane and insanity it brings
I do care, about my friends they are all good people
They tend to stand on their high steeple
Today I find myself not so aware
Disbanding my fear of regret and care
Walking many different paths I see that I have found holes
It is the path that people choose to use to fuel their rage with coals
Coals are partially burnt wood or fossils a piece of fuel
It is the source of burden and fire a rage of emotions that stands cruel
It can be warm and caring, but it also can be baring
I just start to feel so low, below the ground I keep on staring
I reach for my friends so many times I feel so ignorant at times
Just once I feel I should not rely on them when feeling I can not find
I dig my hole deeper and I can not climb out
For some reason I am just full of doubt
I care about so many things and what I have is confusion
One person should be all I should think about to get out of that illusion
My battle in my heart and mind is not at all so pleasant
I feel so alone in an island that is shaped like a crescent
My emotions is like coinciding with a diameter of the semicircle
Not a full emotion that is complete like a circle
My feelings is circular full of incomplete thoughts, so much deeper
I feel it will wake up my evil half a evil soul that is a sleeper
What question should I ask myself? to believe that I am not so alone
As I feel like a person who is deteriorating to the bone
I ask my friends the same question once again
I figure I should do it, to know what kind of feelings I should end
So many thoughts that come out of my feeling
I feel like my friends take, an emotional trauma of stealing
They ask me questions and I answer theirs
But when I need mine answered I feel burning inside like a flare
Are they even friends when they do not take me serious in anyway
Just put me in my hole cause I feel nothing in their will be getting in my way
It's just so simple to answer someones problem
I answer friends with beauty of a rose, but when they answer mine I get the stem
I know the stem is very important in life, with out it how can a rose be a rose
With a hole to put the root and stem in how can it grow
The words we speak I guess is like all natural things we reap and sow
You see her?
Why don't go be like her?
No one likes you,
so this is what you must do.
You must stop being yourself,
get off of you shelf.
You must please everyone,
to do that, you must be number one.
She's the perfect girl,
you're the no one in the world.
So go ahead, and give yourself away,
since you're going the wrong way.
You are no longer you,
see what you can do.
You are now her,
that's better than what you ever were.
This enables a message
From one who can write
To be sent to a friend
To receive it first class or overnight
Many a lover has used one
Showing the feelings of the heart
Which may bring a proposal
Or get pierced by a dart
Without the ingredient of ink
It would be of no earthly use
But with many choice of colours
There’s so many to choose
We know we are right and we will fight
If you dare appose us we will bite
When good doers think they have a chance
We take their idea and we do the dance
We are the law that makes the choice
And no one can keep their face in a good poise
Because we will smack them with a hammer
As we see them we will make them stammer
Just because we are justice
And we try to do some odd practice
Now we will get back on track
We the people take charge and attack
Wait, what are we attacking? the people that are not right
Oh! thats just my brothers and sisters oh! they are a sight
Now look here, we, we the people makes laws
It doesn't matter how many people open their jaws
I'm all confused, we are the people, did we not choose?
We are, but certain people are just to loose
Fine, this is what the new law we want to appose
Why? because we are confused about what we chose
Using we as a word is to many
It takes all of us even granny
So this is what we want to do, is put I and you separate
And the other that we are to choose to elaborate
I am going to say this, we are to many individuals
So we separate the ones who are good doers
That does not make sense
To put all the yous and I's in a group, it's just dense
Are you with me? no I am with myself in this
I am going to rub it in your face and be in a bliss
So I will do the justice myself, and you has decide to disobey
This is what I mean to do, and it will be O.K.
Debating myself is some what kinda weird
You need to be by my side because we make choices better
So this time you and I will just make justice a letter
The clue is what we do that is some what true
It's funny when words play a game to argue the virtue
When I mean I, I mean I, and when I say you, it is you
When I say we, it is us, and that is what my argument is all about, too.
Fifty, fifty is what the Dragon Slayer is saying, it becomes no greater nor smaller
We are all at fault and our decisions that we have made is for all of us to stand taller
Even when it is wrong and we do things to put down the strong
And our arguments become pointless and long
Our justice is when we started to put it on paper and making it a law that stand
So all of us, in the long run will simply decide to band
I guess you could call me a silly guy
For humor is how I get through the day.
I love telling stories, writing poetry, and romance
Each in its own separate way.
I could be called a "Hopeless Romantic"
As I have always been sentimental inside.
I learned that feeling growing up
Watching my parents, and their worlds collide.
I knew my Dad better than anyone...I think
He and I worked together for some time you see.
And when he died at an early age
Everyone seemed to be in tears but me.
Of the six kids in our family growing up
I had a brother named Ron that I was closest to.
He had a sense of humor and devotion to his family
And he would always find strange things for us to do.
We loved driving around in his old MG
When it worked it could do no wrong.
He took me for rides I'll never forget
To teach me his favorite Irish drinking songs.
His death really put me on the writer's path
As I eulogized him with "Remembering Ron".
But afterward I could not stop the words from coming out
As if a spigot had deliberately been turned on.
So I have written poetry, stories, and a few songs too
I'd like to publish something some day.
Getting to read and write here on the Soup
Pehrhaps, I will finally find the way.
I believe in the goodness of man's inner soul
And that God intended for us to be happy here.
The love of Wife, Child, and Family
Just make me want to stand and cheer!
I'd like to see us not have wars
Or even have cross words with others we meet.
Sometimes I plead my case in the words that I write
And sometimes, the proverbial "Dead Horse" do I beat.
I look at history as a great learning tool
For I've studied Antropology in college you see.
And all the past comes into the present time
At least, it does for me.
So I will write works about historical things
As much as I write about family, love, emotions, and silliness too.
Just so others can get some insight into me
And perhaps their own lives as they should do.
I don't know who will read my work
Or if they benefit at all from the things I say.
I only know that this passion to write
Is one that is here to stay.
Some people think I'm kind of grumpy
I guess that is also true.
But the words I write fill that void inside me
This is but one more poem...for you.