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Details | Dramatic Verse (Verse Drama) | |

Attention: WORD NERDS--------- The Eight Parts of Speech

---------------------- "Word Nerds" (like me)...
************Please Have Fun & Read VERY Closely:)***********


now and again
a word 
sneakily obscure
approaches the fog in me
screams its name 
suddenly 
apropos adverbs appear
clearly 
startling 
perplexing 
precarious adjectives
slick little nouns
caught hiding 
beyond babbling brooks
sent to exile
defiling crooks
"pro"fessional nouns
jailed
beneath eight parts of speech
preposition'ed 
pre'fixed subjects
elusive predicates
slithering suffix'ation
turn-ing key
delicately 
through holes
freeing vocabulary
trapped 
within prison walls
synonyms 
pen bars 
filled in the past 
participles
plagued 
like Job's tedious job 
of siphoning
deciphering 
homographs from heteronyms 

words never mind...
 
they wind the mind
gliding 
in the wind...





Details | Quatrain | |

TO SHAKESPEARE WITH ADMIRATION

He was the bard from Stratford, and as a teenager
he helped his father in his trade; he married and had children
and became the most popular and admired play writer
in all England...acting was also his other pleasurable passion.    


Curious Queen Elisabeth was one of the thousand spectators,
who came to see him in the Globe theater...she shed tears, 
and was stunned by the performance of his timeless plays,
and yet, some of his fellow-poets criticized him for his writings!


I wish I had lived in that Victorian era so intellectual and refined,
and had met him in person and had showed him my ample admiration;
I would have asked him the secret, which made him so legendary and loved...
and he would have whispered it to me, to make me revel in that revelation!     


I have read his inspiring works, and tragedies rampantly occur
from " Romeo and Juliet"...the Verona's immortal lovers, through" Hamlet "
whose insanity was undoubtedly caused by the specter of his father; 
and why didn't Shakespeare choose less dramatic plays not ending in death?


He wanted to teach us indelible lessons to show us how the human spirit
can be passionate, adamant, loveless, envious, cruel, unfair and treacherous...
to outline all kinds of guilt: from murder to envy so well-expressed with eloquence;
it's no mystery to anyone how he conjured up such plots with grief, madness and wit!    


Shakespeare was no ordinary kid, and he played with his siblings on Henley Street,
neighbors saw him trot to his grammar school, later he would make everyone weep; 
early in adolescence, did his prodigious mind envision one from a vague thought?
It's no wonder that he is widely read even today...hear his speak, he'll impart worth!  


Entered in Amy Green's contest, " Wow Me With Inspiration "


Details | Lyric | |

Nashville, A Dog Gone Hit,

I left my hometown and didn't much look back,
headed southward bound in my Cowboy Cadillac,
arrived at this store to grab me some snacks,
Yea, they're right about this town, of how it really attracks,

Yea, here in the town called Nashville, where the Grand Ole Opry's on TV,
They say it's the real deal, where upcoming singers need to be,
but I don't do much singing, 'cause the hound dogs howl at me,
though I sure hope it's worth bringing, my songs, for some to see,

I've got them on the internet, downloading them is free,
I haven't had any right connections yet, but I'm hoping patiently,
gonna find me country singer, try to pitch them a dog gone hit, 
like pitching a horseshoe ringer, you know you just can't quit,

Yea, here in the town of Nashville, where the Grand Ole Opry's on TV,
they say it's the real deal, where even writers need to be,
no, I don't do much singing, 'cause the hound dogs howl at me,
but I sure hope it's well worth bringing, my songs, for some to see,

Yea, here in the town of Nashville, where the Grand Ole Opry's on TV,
they say it's the real deal, where upcoming singers hope patiently,
Got some songs to pitch the singers, like me, they just can't quit,
like making a horseshoe ringer, knowing one of them could hit,

I've got them at Poetry Soup, where printing them is free,
log on in, enjoy the view, it's finger friendly as can be,
become a welcomed member, without any sort of fee,
no matter what's your gender, or your nationality,

Yea, here in the town of Nashville, where the Grand Ole Opry's on TV,
they say it's the real deal, where upcoming singers need to be,
Gonna find me a country singer, try to pitch them a dog gone hit,
like throwing a horseshoe ringer, knowing you just can't quit,

Yea, I left my hometown and didn't much look back,
headed southward bound in my Cowboy Cadillac,
arrived at this store to grab me some snacks,
Yea, they're right about this town, of how it really attracks.


Details | Epic | |

Statutory Rape 101

Everybody knows that it's against the law for grown men and grown women to date all of the underage boys and girls,. let alone a 14-year-old boy or a 15-year-old girl. The law also states that any adult who tries to have this so-called "intimate sexual relationship" with any of the underage boys and/or girls would likely go to jail for a period of time and upon release, they'll have to be register sex offenders for the rest of their lives. It seems that those teen girls would rather date men in their 20's or 30s than guys their age and those teen boys would rather date women twice their age than girls their age, as well. but luckily, their parents (the mothers and the fathers) are here to prevent these so-called "May-December" relationships from ever happening, especially when they're protecting their teenage offspring from dirt-bags like these would-be pedophiles. But no matter what the parents do, no matter how hard they try, their teen sons and/or daughters, they secretly continuing dating older men/older women, even at night (midnight, 2 am, or 3 in the morning, e.g.). And the next thing everybody knows, their parents, they will have found out about it; thereby finding them in bed with the adults; their parents should make multiple police reports and pud the cradle robbers behind bars for good. Boy this is starting to look like an episode of "Law & Order: Special Victims Unit" (Season 6-Episode 19-Intoxicated featuring Danielle Panabaker) and an episode of "Snapped," especially when Sarah Johnson killed her own parents in cold blood because she was afraid that the late Mr. and Mrs. Alan and Diane Johnson would send this guy name Bruno Santos to prison or have him deported back to Mexico for statutory rape (by way of dating a then-16-year-old girl). There's no way that those teen boys and teen girls are ever going to get into a bunch of serious, intimate relationships with a bunch of would-be cradle-robbing adults. They need to concentrate on their education and they need to be with guys and girls their age. I mean, one teen boy dating a n adult female? One teen girl dating an older man? My God, their parents will be seriously upset about this. Who on Earth would be dumb enough to fall for an older woman or an older man? And if these would-be pedophiles in the form of grown men and women even attempt to rob these teen boys and girls of their innocence and whatnot, the parents are going to have a problem up in here.


Details | Epic | |

My Very Own Seeds

My time keeps ticking/ Fresh outta mind prison/ I still have a hard time trying to listen/
 I keep on walking yet I keep on tripping/ The pain in my brain heart thickens/ 
Redemption for change Im still missing/ 

Im still on the reservation/ Dont any of my own people see the alcoholic devestation?/
 More self destruction than self creation/ Addicted alcholism among our own we keep making/ Young hearts and souls everyday we be breaking/ Most of us young souls around here are rarely forgiven because we are to busy been forsaken/
 
This is my own mind made prison astrology/ Im hard like a rock involved in geology/
 Dont any of my people understand this poverished prison geolgraphy/ 
Our destruction can be seen in NAT GEO, dont you people see it in the photography/
 Time is no joke nor is it alive yet somehow it can still bleed/ 
Im still out of prison yet in my mind it still doesn't feel like I have been set free/
 I know my out out but I dont have the keys/ In or out it still remains hard just to be me/
 Everything now days in life cost a fee/ Its not my culture its the American Greed/
 I guess now days I gotta leave a trail, I gotta PLANT MY VERY OWN SEEDS......


Details | Narrative | |

My Favorite Devonshire


Footprints to Follow Father's bare feet left footprints in the sand Young son followed, each step carefully planned Tim wanted so much to be like his Dad Always emulating, quite a sweet lad So as you leave impressions on life's shore Remember your path will not be ignored Tread gently, leave prints that make your kids proud Step far away from the perilous crowd Stop at times, build sandcastles, pick up shells Memories can't be erased by sea swells Imprints on children's hearts last forever Keep this in mind through every endeavor A child may be following your footsteps Always make your marks with loving precepts Carolyn Devonshire When I read this poem, Carolyn, I picture my husband and son in those moments when they don't realize they're being watched. How my son looks at his dad is priceless. He hangs on his every word and wants to emulate his every action. My son is only four and I know one day in the near future, this will change (especially in those teenage years!), but I hope he follows in his dad's footsteps. My husband is a kind, loving and hardworking family man. Thank you for writing this beautiful poem. I have printed a copy of it for my husband to keep as a reminder of the tiny feet carefully stepping close behind his. As a parent, nothing is more important than our "impressions on life's shore". God bless you, Carolyn. Your golden heart shines through your words. Love and Blessings, Rhonda


Details | Rhyme | |

Poetry About Poetry

Shades of color bounce within
Singing their hues dancing in place
Vivid lines colored outside
Rules broken with empty space
A midnights dream heard and seen
Gleaming from the twinkle of a eye
Wings touched flown and plucked
Gliding like a bird up in the sky
Wishes from pennies thrown into tears
The reservoir over flowing with pigments of pain
Drowning from the shadows 
The flood paints the day
Words speak volumes of silence hidden
Their sounds blind to what they see
Mirrors of nouns and verbs 
Their meaning and secrets lost at sea
Emotions ruled by laws of language
Spelled in boxes of glass
Melted from sands inside
That voices strangle to grasp


Details | Blank verse | |

A Thin Smile

I sat down to write a happy song
But the words won't come
And neither will the tears.


Details | Rhyme | |

The Sun's Rays

The sun’s devouring rays
Reveals an astounding sensation against the marvelous universe
It caresses the earth with warm hugs and gives life to the motionless gaze
Its auras are above nature’s designating exteriors
Its swaying beauty is beyond Earth’s inhabitants, deserving my praise

It treasures the sky with joyousness and forms swarms of jeering birds
The sighs of the wind attracts clamoring herds

The sun’s appalling flames
Unshackles a zealous tune that reveals the Earth’s accord
It embraces the atmosphere with remarkable claims
Unraveling my curiosity; my ears are pleading to hear more, so I go forward!

It prizes the ocean with eagerness and forms swarms of screeching seagulls 
The strength of the waves draws in scorching souls 

The sun's unattainable rays 
Motivate life to trail on till its duty is done
Its auras seep through the whirling sky and strays
Embracing ambitious love like a father and son  


Details | Quatrain | |

Evolution of a Poet

Employed by Boeing before I retired An engineer, then into management I had good writing skills, as were required When I wrote, you could tell what was meant Poetry wasn’t of interest to me For the first seventy five years of life In fact, when my three daughters lived with me They had no interest; neither did my wife Interest first kindled by Troy, my grandson With his poems, written for an eighth grade class E-mailed to me, read them all and when done Wrote my first poem, it came together fast While at my desk, looking out the window I observed a robin seeking a worm While watching his movements, let my words flow Wrote “Bobbin the Robin “and interest firmed Asked Troy if he’d like his poems in a book Maybe enter his best in a contest Joined poetry websites; learned what it took And we entered poems, but mostly in jest Demands are high on a teenager’s time Troy’s poetry was on the back burner I kept composing with words that rhyme I posted, although I’m just a learner Didn’t know when I posted on the sites The members were free to give them a read And just the thought of that gave me a fright But found out member comments fill a need When I Read the comments on my poems Fascinated by what they say Encouraging with so much support A sincere one would make my day One commenter had interest in my work When as a poet, I become seasoned Given my age, I couldn’t help but smirk I never live that long is the reason Meaningful comments received on my work Keep me involved and my efforts on tract Without them, my work I’d probably shirk My fellow poets made such an impact My first poems were all written in Quatrain It’s a form that was came natural to me At the time, didn’t even know the name But rhythm and rhyme, my poems had to be Explored forms with which I’ve never dealt It’s never too late to learn something new Over a hundred poems under my belt Trying something else was the thing to do To my fellow poets, I say, "Thank You!" You’ve made this an enjoyable pastime I now know it’s something I love to do Molding my thoughts into rhythm and rhyme


Details | Lyric | |

Scotland has to be Seen " Beatlemania "

In the countryside in bloom adorn
Beautiful scenery for all to see
The sun shines down, its full of life
Different shades of different greens


Through the glens our trips begun
So many sights that have to be seen
Feel the passion of hearts so brave
This land called Alba, peacefully serene


    The land of the Scots, is the best place in the world
    Best place in the world, best place in the world
    The land of the Scots, is the best place in the world
    Best place in the world, best place in the world


So come and see our beauty hoard
So many sights for you to explore
Different vistas, makes us say


    The land of the Scots, is the best place in the world
    Best place in the world, best place in the world
    The land of the Scots, is the best place in the world
    Best place in the world, best place in the world


To live and die in the Highlands breeze
A world apart a different breed
We are the Scots, no in between
So please visit Alba, it has to be seen


    The land of the Scots, is the best place in the world
    Best place in the world, best place in the world
    The land of the Scots, is the best place in the world
    Best place in the world, best place in the world



My entry into John Heck's " BEATLEMANIA SING-ALONG contest "
         please sing-along to the tune of Yellow Submarine




http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/poetry-soup-4.php


Details | Rhyme | |

Soul in the Horn

I lost myself inside the rhythms last night
Soul roll out these speakers
‘Cuz the boom bap blast right

Too many rappers wanna smash mics
But I cradle notepads
And travel pen strokes like nomads

Fakes just don’t have the gonads
To flow past the old raps
And re-construct the old maps

Perhaps their just scared of change
Unprepared for new age
Impaired vision can’t see the true range

It’s too strange, so much possibility
But it’s all blocked
Unless we stop the hostility

But will it ever happen?
I ask as I look to Her in reverence
Drop a sentence
And continue this petty rappin’

This is repentance, 
To all who I wronged
I long to amend, my friend
I’m with You until the end

Not a trend; this is respect over royalty
Not about power
Everything’s rooted in loyalty

So no devil can spoil these 
Never foil these philosophies
Nobody is stoppin' these

Or coppin' these in mixtapes
I’m just a mistake
A misplay on Fate
Subject to misplaced hate…

So I shake the weight
Boulder off the shoulders lifted
Breeze lift me like leaves
But I’m floatin’ on clouds, not driftin’

Off into abysses? 
Nah, listen
Ascension got me kissin’ 
These stars that glisten

And I’m wishin’ upon ‘em 
To take someone along
Autumn air to carry ‘em up
Another leaf to the song

Rock, rock on
Long-last the legend
From clock’s dawn
To moon’s yawn
This is forever heaven


Details | Couplet | |

Here Lies the Poetic Warlock

Here lies the Poetic Warlock, a poetic rhyme slayer;
From the U.S. to Bangkok, he was an international game player!

He was born Jimmy M. Anderson, and he overcame all adversaries.
His slams were very contemporary, and his word-play was extraordinary!

He was the great, great grandson of the legendary Edgar Allen Poe.
His poetic guns had more ammo than the military and yet he was kinda a Romeo!

He chased the ladies, like Georgie Porgy Puddin Pie.
It is said, he was born in Hades, and that's why he was a demonic poetic samurai!!

Wrote strictly for Andrea Dietrich contest "Poetic Epitaph"


Details | Free verse | |

I Got Dough {Solfege}

Do -  do   -        a female la beer
Re -  re    -        a drop of re beer
Mi  -  mi             without my mi beer  
Fa-    fa -           place to drive to get ti beer
So  -  so   -        you ran out of mi beer
La   -  la   -         la de da la de da I'll wait for la beer
Ti  -    ti    -        spilt spilt ti beer so no more more of la beer

Do - Do              Do la la think I'm sexy after about six six so beers  LOL 








Got Beer !
Over The Lips Thru The Gums
Look-out Stomach Here It Comes LOL

Also Entry For Izzy Gumbo's Solfege Contest


Details | Rhyme | |

BEAUTY

Gentleness invokes kinship,
more than trust's oft biased recommend,
that fills my warranty for beauty's own in crypt,
I thank thee God, for measures in contend!

Forever, in that beauty were love's tend,
the faith between true friendship might erupt,
still it is forceful, deft attainment's quip,
mere looking gives to Soul, some filling up!

And see thee still, in all my eyes do ground,
wherein love's mercy must have contemplate,
if it were loathsome in some vile resound,
my heart would not have of these words found state!

Oh beauty, you are mine, not underrate,
the vestige I did yearn to so expound,
when will is chastised so, the quiet sedate
does moisten my eyes swell, no more impound!

Thy beauty love, be love, in nature's gate,
the seaming center of this garment's strung
holds empathy as moment's turn belay
the love that I do feel, be inward sung!


Details | I do not know? | |

Vessels

Though the crease begins to crumble
These old pages still run blue
Currents pulse beneath the surface
Pen-leaked ink that bled your truths
Pen-spun words that writhe like veins
Under skin and paper skies
Cold to touch, crept through your core
Settled clear in frozen eyes

So I’ll read you like a book
And I’ll write you pretty lies
Just to fill the empty space 
That’s revealed between the lines
Won’t you move a little closer?
Let it spill into your ear
The tide of breath that harboured
All the words you want to hear

Well I tried to kiss it better
Blood and bones to fuse the cleft
Bruised and broken, lips split open
From the effort, nothing’s left
So you say that I’m a sinner
Preach of hearts and ribs and fists
Well I may have made the plunge 
But you revelled in the twist

Now you’re tearing at your wounds
Sanctimonious with pain
Because it helps you ‘hear the music’
Yeah, it helps you play the game
If I pour a little salt
Will you smear it in your eyes?
Feel its grain twist round your lids
As you soliloquise

About the blame you tried to forge 
All the nights you wept and claimed
‘You can’t comprehend the world
Balanced firm between these blades’
No one told you it’s a lie 
And the story really goes
Constellations, superstitions
Are that Ancient’s only load

All the pretty rhymes and perfect crimes
You try to hide behind
Well they just serve to remind me
How you once spoke those old lines – 
‘Your tongue is as a rudder
Guiding vessels safe through storms
Moving mountains with inflections
Making ripples in reflections
Hollowed hull meets hallowed shores’


Details | Free verse | |

On The Front Line (Free style "Slam")

       It was a hot June./  Late afternoon./  I stormed into that saloon / like a 30 men 
platoon!/  The bartender says, "Gentlemen not in here." /  I smiled and said, "Old man have 
no fear."/

       You wanna take this to the street?/  I can hear your racing heart beat./  How dare you 
try to compete!/  Call me a poetic athlete./  I hold the title not you./  My verses are sicker 
than swine flu!/  You probably never been in a fight in your life./  I'm that damn good - go 
ask your wife!/  OOPS - did I mention something you didn't know?/  Someone ring the bell 
it's a TKO!/  Someone call his mom./  This is going to be bloodier than Vietnam!/ What?! You 
heard it through the grape vine?/  I'm a poetic fighter on the frontline!

       You reap what you sow./ I slaughter any foe,/ and just in case you didn't know./  I'm 
the great grandson of Edgar Allen Poe!/  So what cha think about that?/  I'll beat you with my 
wiffle ball bat!/  I'm trained for combat./  Walking over poets like the bottom of a doormat!/  
Someone turn down my pens thermostat!/  I think this paper is about to catch fire!/  My 
words will wrap you in barbed wire!/  I will own your soul./  This pen is my pistol!/  N. C. is 
where I'm from ./  My lyrics will set you ablaze like Napalm!/  Read the headline,/ I'm a 
poetic soldier on the frontline!

       Yes I will haunt the night./  I feel guite / comfortable on the frontline./  Call me Dr. 
Frankenstein!/  A freak of nature, not of this world./  Don't talk smack/ Jack/ It's a fact I'll 
take yo girl!/  A cassonova from birth./  I'm not of this earth./  I know you can't stand it./  
But I was born on another planet!/  You hear my voice,/ and my weapon of choice,/ a razor 
sharp scimitar!/  I can hear/ the fear/ I'm the fallen star!/  So as I drop the H-bomb/ I hop 
back in my UFO./  You know where I'm from/ beyond the rainbow!/  At last you feel the teeth 
of my canine!/  A poetic soldier on the frontline!!!


* This is just me venting, not written toward non of you guys...hehe


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Mother Of Waters

Mother of Waters
you're peace and tranquility;
how I long to be as free.

Oh Mother of Waters,
mighty! untroubled, and true!
change me to be just like you.

You have given us life
then have taken it away...
seen battles lost and won
through the nights until the day.

But who can say
what controls your silence?
And who can say 
what commands your violence?

Sweet Mother of Waters
graceful, mystic, serene...
who can know what you have seen?

You have given us life
then have taken it away...
seen battles lost and won
through the nights until the day.

but who can say
what controls your silence?
And who can say
what commands your violence?

Dear Mother of Waters,
great mirror of the dusk and the dawning...
calming, soothing, everlasting...
how I long to be as free!

Change me to be just as thee.


Details | I do not know? | |

That damn mohel!

(This is a fictional poem)

When I was a baby, my parents hired the cheapest mohel they could find.
The son of a _____ cut off my wiener because he's blind.
I have no penis and that makes me a freak.
I have to use a tube when I take a leak.
I'm not the only one who lost his wiener because of that butcher.
You can probably tell that it was also done to Ashton Kutcher.
After they hired him to circumcise me, my future was very grim.
If you have a baby boy, you better keep your son away from him.


Details | I do not know? | |

Origin Of Tears

Tears of a bitter past,
And a hopeless tomorrow,
All for joys that never last,
And a memory drowned by sorrow.

Tears of a forgotten son,
For the parents he's never known.
Afraid of what he hasn't done,
And of living all alone.

Tears of the mother
Who was left to die,
And the pain from another
Who never said goodbye.

Tears for a happy end,
That we all hope is there,
For a broken heart to never mend,
And the pain you cannot bare.


Details | Burlesque | |

Rotten Apple

Two broken windows
in just two weeks time 
to that I say this child of nine
shall work in the mine
a broken vase and food covering his face
etiquette school for he is a disgrace
the frog in soup
turning dinner into moup
I will enroll him into behavioral group 
for in my home he shall not roam
to his room he shall retreat
with walls covered with foam
I do but regret to this child of mine
shall be punish till he no longer nine


(This is Burleque style it is suppose to sound this way I am not like this)


Details | Ballad | |

' Legendary ... ' ( Part 3 (of) 4 )

‘ Legendary …’  ( Part  3 (of) 4 ) 



… Now, The Earl, had Spies, to keep Intruding Eyes On The Tryst of Secrecy
Beth’s Tresses, like Raven Wings and Eyes Emerald-Green, Became His Fantasies
Yea, He erstwhile Plotted, for He wast’ Besotted with the Cobbler’s Daughter’s Beauty
All to no Avail … for Beth Knew Well,  Twere’ None, More Wretched, than He !

So, She didst’ Spurn his Declaration and Protestations of Undying Fidelity
She didst’ Return, His Portrait and String of Pearls and His Poems, Peremptorily
Forasmuch, and twas’ this and such, She Rebuffed all His Pleasantries
In Favor of Her Knight, she Reserved This Right, which Enraged, Their Enemy
 - - - - - - -
Now, Twas’ but an Instant, of Insistent Cajoling, that Beth Pleaded Prettily
To Part with Her Swain, til’ Their Hearts Came, to be Joined For Perpetuity
To Compose Herself, for Their Nuptial-Heft, She twould  Prepare Hastily
And Rendezvous for His View, stating … ‘ I  twould’ Look, My Best for Thee!’

And as She left His side, She was Singing Most Merrily …

‘ …  Carry Me in Thine Arms, to Our Beloved Balcony
To a Bed of Blushing-Rose-Petals and Wild-Tossed-Peonies
A Bed Lover’s Designed … Draped in Damask and Brocade -Satiny
And let Moon-Glow, from Yon’ Window, Bathe Us Both Bodily … ‘

… and The Handsomely Styled, Smitten Knight Smiled, as He Heard Her Warm Gaiety …

… Sweet Wine On My Lips … Drip In Ecstasy
Sweet Touch On My Hips … Smooth as Warm Honey
Sweet Love of My Soul … Last An Eternity
Sweetheart, Be Thy Bold in Bravery …
… and if Sweet Talk, Be A Token
And Language Be Spoken …
Be Legendary … Be Thou Legendary !

                                  ( Part 3 (of) 4 )


Details | I do not know? | |

A spring got stuck up his ___

(This is a fictional poem)

I've had the same mattress for over twenty-five years.
When my teenage son was having sex on it, a spring went up his rear.
It went up his ___ and it got stuck.
I caught him in my bed and he was out of luck.
I was very mad and I started to shout.
A proctologist had to come over to get the spring out.
I knew he had been having sex because he was wearing a rubber.
I tanned his hide and you should've seen him blubber.
He thought he'd get away with it but he did not.
If I hadn't been too cheap to buy a new mattress, he wouldn't have got caught.


Details | I do not know? | |

Quiet Darkness

I have come as a prophet, my eyes alive
  and back unbroken,
Unwilling to contain this furious force;
  words written, spoken.
So you may now wish to move with your
  patient and much-practiced care,
Run your manicured, painted fingernails
  through your hardened hair.
Clutch those magazines of bright beauty
  featuring slogans and smears.
Yes! You may wish to hide, shut your
  eyes and cover your ears.
For as of now, I let loose the ragged 
  rasp of my naked rage.
The scalding heat of a welding torch
  to the steel of a cage.
How is it you respond? Repetitious
  replies that I abhor.
Fistfuls of pennies I violently
  throw to the floor.
Of course, you simply turn away and
  just stare at that empty wall.
Does it's blank shear sheen offer you
  any cooling comfort at all?
It must surprise you, hearing this
  vehement anger that I speak.
But, that was your ultimate undoing,
  you misjudged me as weak.
You must see there is strenght in words,
  a power for some to spell,
Whisper, scream, writ in water, etched
  in stone, in order to foretell.
Can you not see, inside you are brilliant,
  but unknown continents?  
Cast off the dimness of your past
  and explore in the present tense.
Weary of your speeches, dull speeches 
  at wedding receptions;
Once I am gone, you may return to
  your own deft self-deceptions.
So, kneel down upon your knees to count
  pennies left strewn in my wake,
Maybe even learn to understand some of
  my words, for God's sake.
I harbour fear for a future 
  only I seem to foresee:
Quiet darkness, desperate desire
  for words once spoken by me.


Details | I do not know? | |

The temptations of Christ

When Jesus was here, Satan tempted him to sin.
But he's the son of God and he never gave in.
He told Jesus to turn a rock into food and to even commit suicide.
But he never succumbed to the temptations no matter how hard Satan tried.
Satan must not have known that it's impossible for the son of God to sin.
The Devil gave it a good try but it was destined for Jesus to win.


Details | Lyric | |

Young Mind

Barely six years old, when he talked 
to the evening sea, to the moon and the stars 
yet, I am without doubt that in yesteryears 
I had and enjoyed the very same passion

It seems an appreciation at most
and I’ve spoken about my own in the past
so I have had great time, flaunting it
I had and enjoyed the very same passion

If 
hardly have I pushed the brain 
to whisper awhile, this so-called writer’s block 
is not a big deal. Oh, there he is, sitting 

Head slightly bent at my father’s table
I read, by heart, every word that comes out 
through his pen. And, in his young mind--- 
I feel once more, the muse I loved, glowing