A predator among us.
A villian in our midst.
An entity of evil,
Clouding up our wits.
Preying on the innocent.
Devouring the strong.
A sycophant immortal.
Unbound by right and wrong.
White wool adorning
The curves of their form.
Cloven hooves dragging
on the ground with the worms.
No hoofprints behind them.
just the four toed paws
dotted at the tips
by their long and angry claws.
Nature is a cruel being.
Creating monsters in her storms.
No one understands
And everyone is torn.
The prey will always villify
those who are higher than they
on the food chains bottom
the sheep will always stay.
The wolves are meant to feed
without remourse consume
The psyches of the weak
to bring them to their doom.
The sheep will bleat and bellow
in fear of those wolves
And try to justify their blindness
by stamping hard their hooves.
Hiding in the herd,
the prey upon their back
the predators facade
turns their wool to black.
Such is natures way.
No one is at fault.
The circle of life.
The predators of thought.
For who can blame the hungry beast
for eating to survive
When you people create such feasts
And tantalize our eyes.
We can not feel guilty
for gaining our sustenance.
consider this my fealty
for i shall not repent.
i could sit here. day in and day out
thinking of the most proper way
to let the ink in the pen spill out
but as of late im feeling prehistoric
so much weight on my shoulders
and i dont know where to go
resuscitate my soul
look back up and head to the goal
so much evil around. i feel like the devils workin double shifts just to bring me down.
on the road to redemption
you can take a seat up in the front section
just so you can feel the emotions
in this electric notion
i've done a lot of things that hide the halo
let it all collaborate when i medicate
now look at me, mind workin like plato
formulate a new path to take so i can
maneuver through all the mistakes
we all know we cant change what we've already made
but we can change the next thing we create
startin to sound like a serenity prayer
5 steps till im thirty
and the twenty four before i was never a player
found out when the lights came back on im strictly a lover
its the strongest drink for your soul, when its thirsty
so careful how much you intake or be left hungover
even worse be the one she ran over
i dont mean to come off like im too deep
but the obstacles made there way through just to scrape through
and leave me suffocating
just for me to re-invent a new way to breathe, re-decorating
is your life so complicated
you rather wet up your pillows and revoke from the life you live
just think of your kids mourning
theyll never see that pretty face in the morning any more
cheer your self up
you got a lot to live for
your a gem and im that friend
trynna appraise the value
that you dont see inside of you
just another day for him
searchin wonderin what his purpose is
running in circles
till he found a way through all the turbulence
Thank you for crying for me today
My tears are sometimes an expression
of the powerlessness I feel
Through my tears I release my sadness, my fears
and find answers
I am all thought out
Too tired to cry the hard tears
or softly weep myself to sleep
so thank you for crying for me today
You pound hard into the earth
As though mixing an antidote of gladness
to overcome my sadness
I hear you tapping rhythmically and methodically against my windowpane
message in code "Don't worry", "Don't worry" you say
You rain softly as my sadness and fears fade
And I begin to find new meaning
There's fire in my lungs.
smoke flows through my veins.
I feed the beast my soul
to gain euphoric pain.
I serve he who lives in me.
The monster in my mind.
The creature so abusive,
at times can be so kind.
In my mental hell,
I sit beside his throne.
I tend to his desire,
so I don't have to be alone.
Here He is my god.
And I, in turn, am his.
A symbiotic worship,
sealed within a kiss.
Sulfuric fumes consume us,
as we dance into the ether.
The hands of god are ours.
Hes made me a believer.
My halo, so very worn.
His horns, so alluring.
Hand in hand we walk,
love and hate enduring.
His guidance lifts me higher
than any drug could try.
His chains hold me down.
bound wings can not fly.
Walking straight and tall,
crawling on my floor.
I am his moonlit goddess.
And his filthy whore.
I wont break his binds.
I wish not, to be free.
I can never escape him,
for this beast is me.
What lies beneath
The flooding drains
A spiders web
Spawned of rustic chains
If you ask me how I am
I'll reply that I'm ok
Hiding behind this mask
As I resume to face this day
Then theres the sights
A synonym of what I cannot find in you
But I have found
Sometimes hunger is the only kind of food
Have I lost my Faith?
Its something that I could never see
Then theres your eyes
Still falling away from me
But if I was a better man
Would your rivers run deep into outer space
While all along your insisting
That we are both two worlds away
Behold this longer list of denials
And uncertain hope
Reflecting fears of affection
And you still keep your eyes closed
Then by my own admissions
My heart has grown from cold to colder
And by my own submissions
Losing your love has bled me sober
When men of fame do meet discord,
They find a way to prove their point.
Then it is, they think of the art,
And call to play artists of doom.
The artists too, who know their art,
Would play the strings from their guitars,
Releasing pleasant sounds of doom
That leave men gasping for breaths of air.
Babies wail, toddlers weep;
Their mothers too have felt the sounds
Taking rise from the guitars of war,
And lay by them with gaping eyes.
Young boys leave, all on their heels,
And flee without their closest ones,
Fear oozing out of every pore
That yet has not been blocked by blood.
Sounds of horror fill the misty air:
Bombshells cracking open, ‘leasing doom,
Creaking sounds from shattered houses
Under attack by massive arson,
Rhythmic thuds of bodies to the ground
From mortal tones that vade the air,
The agonised screams of innocence,
Dwarfed only by the dreadful cannonade.
Screams of little girls, barely grown,
Receiving men they’ve never known,
Left alone in shattered raiment
To brood and lick their bleeding wounds.
Tender ones, better off dead,
Trudge along, barely standing,
With sunken cheeks and pointed ribs
Peeping from transparent chests.
They’d give their leaf-thick fleshy parts
Just to lay their hands on flour,
Before the next artistic blast takes them unawares.
What a sharp contrast they are
To all their mates that live with fame.
The day is dead, the show is off,
The artists then return to base
To meet females with smiling kids
That know not what their fathers do.
All is well, their lives are good,
As pay bags do weigh higher.
Victory is here, but for whom?
The hundreds that hushed the thousand?
Fellow men, what have you done?
Composed your master piece i guess!
Around me all my eyes can see
Beyond the ruins of tomorrow
confused and lonely people plea
Drowning in a sea of sorrow.
Every head is lifted high
Facing towards eclectic suns
Grasping at the shallow sigh
Hiding with the lonely ones.
Inside the martial law begins
Judges have no self respect
Killed her with the empty tins
Liberty swore to protect.
More laws are made for terrorists
No one even says a word
Overtly fearful catalysts
Promised danger is inferred.
Questioning is not allowed
Remember that you patriot
Stay the course follow the crowd
Thankful for the things you got.
Under all the false pretenses
Valued in some greedy hands
Washington still shocks my senses
Xenophobes, their heads in sands.
Yesterday the breeze blew free-
Zephyr wind, come back for me.
The wind blows as if it has something to say
Almost as if to warm me to stay away
I brush it off like a speck of dust
For what I'm feeling is more than lust
I won't say it's love
Or a message from above
But what it is, is even more
Ever since you had me begging on the floor
Yet I hear the wind, very clearly now
It went from a whisper, to practically a shout
Thy wind is scary, but very honest
It guides me through all the tests
It leads the way, never steering me wrong
Thus its message sounds like a song
When you listen close you'll hear the melody
I wish to open my eyes, but I'm in fright of what I may see
So I follow the wind
All the way to the end
And when it's time for it to go
The wind's soar starts to slow
Now it is but a gentle breeze
Making it easier to breath
I open my eyes and there you are
Shining bright like a new born star
I take a chance and come real close
For I have not a single reason to boast
If not for the whispering of the wind
I may have strayed, and fallen to sin
But it showed me all the right paths to follow
And its message left me no longer Hollow
By: Cody J. Davidson
It's like a vase you had but sorry that you bought.
Like behaving as if you know, when it's so far from what you thought.
Some will despise the truth no matter the cost,
while some prefer to be ignorant than to admit they're lost.
Now life becomes easy with limited ways to earn.
Suddenly people change to crazy with unlimited ways to turn.
Listen carefully and go slow when you read.
Strive for the whole suitcase and not only what you need.
Though I care not for tomorrow It never troubles me to stay
that I'll be down by the river if I am unable to find my way.
So close to the end yet so much distance to the truth,
that time is a thief it takes everything even your youth.
"More dogs than bone", that's the term,
"Many rivers to cross" for some just don't learn.
It must be done for it only takes one
Some things are pointless if some things aren't won.
Priority is key;
So what cant you bare to see?
Desperate times, so speak no evil.
Information is value, so be cautious with people.
When the doors are close your unable to see
that everything has a price including the tree.
My words are perplex of this I am sure
But the odds can never be against us
if we're using metaphors.
written by: Germaine Thompson aka Z' Traveler
It all began when the blind seers
Took the step and trusted their sight.
It was dark, the night was cold,
The storm had dropped, places were damp
When the torch-bearers brought their light.
Their words were warm, their speeches tuned.
That was all it took to steal some hearts.
Yet, just before the fowl could yawn,
A little before the dark could bleach,
Away they bolted with everything;
Walking sticks, clothes, shoes and all.
But the seers didn’t see that coming
Since they be not like those
That do see with their ears
And trust not in high-sounding words.
Brother, brother, pray, help me out;
Climb the ladder to the top,
And bring down the pawpaw fruit.
Brother, brother, you got it now.
Climb the ladder down, let us share
And taste the joy of brotherhood.
Brother, brother, bring forth the fruit
You were to pluck with your hand of power,
And send some down to the lower man.
Brother, brother, treat me not so.
Recollect the kindly deed i did,
And let me taste of the fruit.
Brother, brother, cling to the top,
But I envy you no more,
As while you’re there, i see your shame!
Stress seems like an ominous thing but it does have one advantage: it helps you mind realize that you can take a step back from the world and see it differently. In a more calm and small and insignificant to you and yourself.
Almost four years now since you left us, wringing our hearts.
Beginning your new chapter, you slipped away in the night,
Connecting with an expanse of new and perhaps, old, companions.
Doing everything we could, we struggled with releasing you.
Everything you wished for, we wanted you to have in abundance.
Fading memories cloud the realities of life, and the disappointments too.
Gaining perspective for our own lives, we know that we are not perfect.
High expectations were modeled and imprinted in a profound way. The
Intensity of your love was not doubted. You told us we were your gifts, bringing
Joy and meaning to your life, but we wanted you to soar and explore too.
Kindness was your way, as many friends will remember and miss.
Love is a fragile thing, yet it is the glue that binds us all together now. Your
Mothering willl not be forgotten, and was not a waste of time. Morning and
Night, you tended to us as best as you could. Your visions and dreams waited.
Opening night performances, you could have mastered with practice.
Perfecting your paintings with feeling and skill was always so clear and precise.
Questions and doubts still bubble up. Will we meet you again, or not? Your
Restful grave seems cold and austere, but we remind ourselves, you are not there.
Sleeping is a metaphor for death, but it does not comfort us, or seem real.
Trusting your fate was as you wished, we get on with our own lives,
Understanding that one day, sooner than we think, we will have to still our own
Voices, and calm our own hearts into stopping the frenetiic pace.
Worldly ways, will become obsolete, even "Mother's Day" will pass on.
Xray's reveal we are the same, inherited traits, not to be changed.
Yesterday, we ran and played the the sun. We cried and we laughed. The
Zepher waits for no one when it comes to collect.
I am in need of a woman. YES I
SAID IT!!!! Not want but
NEEED. Someone who I can call
my queen, whose beauty, is
meant to be seen. Has the
intellect to hold a pleasant
conversation. I wouldn’t mind if
she was even mixed with a few
nations. But brains come before
beauty but at the end of the
day there all the same.
Because she needs to have the
frame to maintain the pleasant
sectors in my brain. But have
the brains to be able to
understand every metaphor off
this page. And if you can’t,
thanks for coming you may exit
left off this stage. For the
woman I need has to have the
drive to climb to the highest
peaks. And have my words be
the only words that can sweep
her off her feet. Who is willing
to go to hell to heaven straight
from heaven to hell then back
and remain to always have my
back for I wouldn’t lack to do
the same. I need a woman I
can simply smile about when
just hearing her name. I need
perfection but not the type in
one self but the perfection that
would be for each other. The
one I can call my lover and
maybe one day I’ll have a child
that will call her mother. That
will be the comfort, because no
matter how bad it is I have my
woman by my side. Will be like
Bonnie and Clyde. Except for
the murder scene at the end,
but still defend with all my
heart. We will never break
apart for every day is a new
start. And I can’t find her here
or there, really not anywhere.
The question really is you
Not trying to figure any/everthing out - trying to make a knot out of any/every figuring.
A dynamic symetry of tensions among proportions which yields the golden section in space and time:
Aid I name e c simple tree of tense shuns; a monk proports ION. Switch. Ye olds tug - olden sect - ION
In space see and tie me.
Aid I (enhance(humanity/physical?)) by naming simple trees of tensed
puns(obsolesce(chip world/body?)) a monkey reports ION(retrieve(non-physical?))
In space see and tie me(flip(descension/physical?))
Baub along a long road
A day will come when you will
Cum to seed the daze
Dumble dee's dad dunks
A listin the heads sense's
Sinpsycolo geez us them then justuce
Austerrorty Loving Poly-trick-sons.
Hell'sCare Echoes numbing brick Stunts.
Code mediation tween 2 adresees.
Entrapic Chips Swirlled Expressionist Ease.
Asynchronicity's Lost Pan-thesese.
Law's tamper freeflowin Energies freeze.
Pamper Complexity; Pigpen's Posts Shameshun.
Zuhl logical dissorters Crosby sheeez.
Dubbel Deal with Calm EUnice Chai-neice.
Membranes 16 flossable Don eye a Bill' Itzy.
Eek "the future Doesn't need us" - whyrd Maggy Z
What privy Imp-lament-ation Mina's:
Choke'n'hackin phrotocoils and glow-ball EUgenes(ieuuueww!)
Better yet C WEB MDZ
high baub i growe Herb's vegatables and frutes
and i broom bier bakeing with yeat's yeastily
but barely have i begun to brave barley
feeld's freeeee two bark barley
strain naught but id like a good strein
of barley for groomien
Ive bee'n - lookin into many things'
and see'n much beauty
but th'only thing
im lookin to lookinto is
the beautiful thingsies
your eyes, your I's, you or I,
Participle Pats Practicum por proficient patterning,
pertaining particapatory pronoid program preparation,
preceeds pandemic profound PARTY!