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Premium Member Poem | Details | Judgement Poem | |

Devils Deadly Dime

Devils deadly dime

The sign said no grown-up at the playground.
Tripping on a penny, like a mime!
My hand is in my pocket with the dime I found.
Its all mine, I asked for the devils hand that time.
Echoes in my head, bounded by a screaming sound.
Paying for a forgotten crime,
on what comes around goes around.

A prison with greed that carries an evil musical chime.
Jumping off the merry-go-round!
Encouraged by the devil,
 the pleasure of his deadly nursery rhyme. 
Now the world is measured by my blood level.

The devils delight feasted on my youth before I hit my prime.
Bashing my mind, with thoughts implanted by evil.
Entering the day with no beauty to my sublime.
Begging him to remove this anvil!

He laughed while he cursed me with a favor for a favor.
A fallout so violently in this world not civil.
One can only lust on the taste that only he can savor.
Hanging out  by the swings wounding me with prey,
on two victims to his delicious flavor.
I climb my way to teach a lesson in hate not love.
Two siblings who always scream for each other.
Giggling as I offered each a push and a shove.
Stopping they give each other a big hug.
Defeating and proving love is a stronger disease
The devil wicked eyes looking  at me like a bug.
Clawing at my inner guts with remorse that he will win this war.
Until another day one skips the penny, 
and begs a poor fool like the devil for his dime.
Tossing heads for his tail when times hits rock bottom.
I will stray away from his deadly reaction time.
He will not own my soul so freak'em,
and his greedy deadly beg of a dime.


by;pd

Premium Member Poem | Details | Judgement Poem | |

IT IS WHAT IT IS

Sweetheart, you never really fell for me
Head over heels, you loved a fantasy
You had a perfect dream of who I'd be
I liked that guy too.. but it wasn't me
 
It is what it is, It is what it is
It is what it is, It is what it is

You never really.. gave us a chance
More in love with the thought of romance
You turned a blind eye to reality
Girl, I can flat dance but you couldn't see

It is what it is, It is what it is
It is what it is, It is what it is

You walked out the door, I let you go
God knows it hurts to reap what you sow
It's better this way, I only wish you well
But I gotta be me.. even when me means hell 

It is what it is, It is what it is
It is what it is, It is what it is

I've heard it said there's lots of fish in the sea
I gotta believe there's one fish made for me
So I'm sailing today, I'm not waiting around
I can not rest until my true love is found..

Cause,
It is what it is
    just the way it is
It is what it is
    just the way it is

It is what it is
It is what it is

Date: 8-7-14

Premium Member Poem | Details | Judgement Poem | |

Blame Game

You’re so devoted to all your grudges,
You cherish them like they're a prize;
You hold them with pride on your pedestal
Bursting with bliss as your relationships die. 

Next time you frame everyone's mistakes 
And hang them right above their head, 
You should hang up a mirror as well
And take a good look at yourself instead.

You love to play the blame game
So let's play another round-
What's wrong- are you too ashamed
To turn your finger around?

You're so foolish to expect anybody 
To respect a narcissistic point of view;
Within your childish perception the lens
Is solely focused on you, you, you, and you.

Next time you frame everyone’s mistakes 
And hang them right above their head, 
You should hang up a mirror as well
And take a good, long look at yourself instead.

You love to play the blame game
So let's play another round-
What's wrong- are you too ashamed 
To turn your finger around?

Yeah, you love to play the blame game
So let's play another round-
What's wrong- are you too ashamed
To turn your finger around?

By Anne Currin

For Metamorph Contest

| Details | Judgement Poem | |

Rules and Regulations

How long did it take her to be free?

How long did it take
For the wingless dragonfly to finally open her heart to the world

How long did it take for her to overcome Devil’s workshop
Slowly caressing her retinas
With silky daffodils and two-faced tulips

Where
Now
She dives into a glistening pool of complicated risk
Opening her atrium to the masses

Shedding incumbent teardrops
Just for that one standing ovation
To SET
HER
FREE!

It was then
Where pieces of plastic chains fell from demure stratosphere

Dented taps, similar to a shoeless dancer,
Setting off bass tones and low-key monotony

For she was
One cholesterol filled syllable short
To be genuine

One tearful, hyphenated lyric
Too blunt
To be embraced by their “god”

One dilapidated vowel shy
Of being honest

Her diary didn’t have enough pages torn
From emerald sanity

There were too many “Wows”,
Diluting into disingenuous shoulder pats

Her stanza pushed aside

A glorified booty call with no call back number
Leaving messages towards empty dial tones

…

How long will it take her to be free?

Until she looks up
Knowing she already holds the key

©Drake J. Eszes

| Details | Judgement Poem | |

I Did It My Way

I Did It My Way
I did it my way, not for the applause but because, Failure was not an option and I became a rebel with a cause. I wanted higher education and was told I couldn’t have it all, So I had to prove them wrong even if I had to creep or crawl.
I was accused of having a stubborn streak, Just because I wasn’t mild and meek. Challenging every obstacle placed in my way, And all the negative things that people had to say.
In spite of all the “You can’t do that,” that I was told, I stubbornly did it my way and confidently smashed the mold. Marching to a different drummer and dancing to my own tunes, I kept my eyes on the prize ignoring all the nay-saying buffoons.
To keep on track, I learned to juggle tasks knowing I wouldn’t be derailed. To keep my ducks in a row, I learned to haggle knowing I wouldn’t fail. With dedication and hard work, as sure as night follows day, Success was mine because I certainly did it my way!
6-7-2014 - Submitted to contest “I Did It My Way” sponsored by Shadow Hamilton

Premium Member Poem | Details | Judgement Poem | |

Tongue Study

Tongue Study 4/22/2014


Tongue Study

Steady it wags
needing to know
more,about the
the very thing that
causes wars.
peace and pain
I study my tongue.
Much has been said
about the tongue yet
how has it pertained
to my own.
My tongue has delivered
and served,it has given
and taken,it has blessed,
it has cursed.
It has been written
and it has been SAID.
the tongue can be tied,twisted
curt,sweet,sharp,wagging or
bragging.

It may be your
native tongue
or foreign,it may be
exciting or boring.
If quiet is your tongue
the cat may have it.

If you use your
tongue to speak ill
of the dead you may,
challenge a force and
be cursing your life's course.

The tongue's confession's
may sweep out
dirty secrets from the
corners of your mind.

Wise words have fallen on death
ears, words smothered by pride.
truth escaped lying eyes.
Ignoring what you saw and
twisting what was heard.

Tongues may bond
with imbeciles or angels
forming positive
or negative energy.

Be careful,mind your tongue
it is closes to your own ears
and will affect you first,rather
before the others hear.

Be not at the mercy of 
an imbecilic tongue
read their eyes
and duck the darts
about to be thrown. 

Do not despise the
foreign tongue
for it is the aptitude 
of the brain, the tunnel
to his bilingual do not
expect the champions,
to cater to the dunce,
who can barley
master his own tongue.

In general I have concluded
weather you live by the sword or
stand on principals, I had to
learn to manage my tongue
as I would a loaded gun.

I will not justify my tongue
when I use it's power for wrong
and neither hold my piece,
to placate the sword of the unjust..
the real power is in
the righteousness
of the spoken tongue..

For those who live by
the sharp and sworded tongue
and wield words as death
blows to the innocent,
or those who are silent,
while others suffer
May also die
by the mighty tongue.
or by the holding of it.

| Details | Judgement Poem | |

POVERTY DEFINES TRUE WEALTH

written 25th Oct 2013


I don't know if human's will ever see
 every soul born, is right where it's meant to be
For the rich to become the richest
 there has to be a place for the poorest

The entire world is built up from the same level of dirt
 each soul is born without knowledge to cause hurt
Humanity teaches us what a human's life is worth, by money and glory
 I am to believe "all lives are priceless, every soul fit's to tell Earth's story

The luckiest to be born, is that of a poor man
 he learn's the treasures, of "everything he can
Those born into all riches, have no true understanding of "richness
 seeing us not as human's, but those living in poverty "as an illness

Love start's from the soul, and from there, it is taught to grow
 the rich find another kind of love, one only brought with dough
Love, trust, compassion and grace, defining the difference in richest and wealth
 t'is the beggar off the street, who climbs the toughest road to earn his wealth 

He is the most blessed man, he is rewarded with the most valuable key
 for his wealth, is humanly "uncountable, for only God know's the value of he...




| Details | Judgement Poem | |

Freedom

This place, inside, where all my feelings keep.
That lies somewhere between my heart and soul.
Should I, the guardian of my fortress seek,
Protection from those, who would see them stole.
So many times have you this bastion breeched,
With scant regard for all the dangers posed.
That my hopes and dreams should not be reached,
By eyes that only wish my heart exposed.
These inmates with their liberty restrained.
That strive against their shackles and their chains.
Am I their jailor too cautious to be blamed,
To free them no matter what their claims.
And if freeing them should reveal my heart,
I might be also freed.. my life to start

| Details | Judgement Poem | |

A Mile in Her Shoes

A mile in her shoes
You look at her and wonder
and simply do not at all understand
You would think she would leave him
Before things really get out of hand.

She thinks we don’t notice
The days she shows up newly bruised
Some of us look down on her at times
Because she allows herself to be abused.

I cannot look down upon her
Because I have walked in her shoes
You cannot know the pain she has
Or her shame she has for being used 
 
She has children she must think of
And bills that need to be paid
Food for the table to be purchased
There are so many reasons she’s stayed

Her dreams and life have shattered
And hope died so long ago
Love has a different meaning to her
Something most of us will never know
 
So do not harshly judge her
She is aware of your opinions and views
And you should never ever judge her
Unless you have walked a mile in her shoes

Premium Member Poem | Details | Judgement Poem | |

Darker than the Cavern, No Relief

Darker than the Cavern, No Relief

Darker
than the Cavern
opening gate into Hell,
the lost Souls, dead nights
with such unimaginable delights.

They seek mercy
where none can be had
an ending never found,
lost forever deep underground.

No Altar
to burn incense
a dark pit into agony lie,
caverns , dark and deep to cry.

Moans
that wail in 
pleas unfulfilled,
repentance was never willed.

Dark city
Hades in action
forever gifting torment,
upon those lost in banishment.

No sleep
just louder cries
hideous sorrowful wails
where forgiveness forever fails.

Robert J. Lindley, 09-27-2014

Note: I woke this morning from a dream of the
 underworld. David's passing was on my mind last
night and this dream shouted out a warning to me.
Too late, too late is a terrible place to be...

Premium Member Poem | Details | Judgement Poem | |

The Executive

The Executive Story/ poem There was once a high class executive Lady. She had a very high paying job and made a lot of money. She was very rich and hung out with the rich and famous. It happened one day while crossing the street to her job, she got run over by a bus and died. When she gets to heaven, St. Peter meets her at the door and asked who she was. She said I'm Jane the executive. St. Peter nod his head and said - very few people of your kind make it here. He then said you have to choose where you want to spend the rest of eternity, if it's Heaven or Hell. She said - I'll take Heaven she said, St. Peter said - It's not that easy. You have to spend 24 hrs. in Hell and than 24 in Heaven, than you decide. He took her down to Hell and the door open He just told the main man there - she is here for her 24 hrs. I will be back tomorrow for her. The very well dressed man told her, do come in. Jane saw that it was beautiful in there. It was like a beautiful city. There were lots of stores, restaurants and night clubs. She was impressed. She went to a club and there she saw some of her friends that had passed away before her. They were happy to see her. They had a great party that night. Before she knew, her time was up. St. Peter came for her. Now was her time in Heaven. There She saw a lot of Angels singing and everything was peaceful. The 24 hrs. were up and St. Peter ask her if she had make up her mind and what had she chosen. She said I never thought I would say this, but I choose Hell. He said - are you sure? She said yes. This time St. Peter send her down by herself. When she knock on the door, Satan himself opened up took her hand and dragged her in. What she saw surprised her. All her friends were dressed in shabby dirty clothes and it was like the whole city had disappeared and there was fire everywhere. The people were picking something to eat from the garbage. She said - what happened here? Why are my friends dressed like that Last night everything was so beautiful - we had the best of everything. Satan - said, last night we were recruiting you. Today you are here for Eternity...
0810/2014 By Lucilla M. Carrillo Note: I'm sorry that this is kind of long, but I hope you enjoy it. Moral of the story is what you see is not always what you get... heaven.

Premium Member Poem | Details | Judgement Poem | |

Being you

Being you

Accept yourself
That’s all that I can say
Let your inner voice tell you
The way to live your day
Do not be hard upon yourself
That never did no good
Just be happy, never worry
It’s foolish that one should.

Love yourself
Cause you’re a ‘one off’ too
No one else can play your part
Nobody can be you
It’s a lovely world we live in
Let it seep into your soul
Then when you feel at one with life
Twill get you feeling whole.

Most people call me crazy
But I love being me
I do not care what others think
I only like to be
To be this way, it is my right
A gift sent down by fate
I’m so I’m happy being me
Each day to me is great.

14 August 2013 @ 1410hrs.



| Details | Judgement Poem | |

read this please

They hate you because your you
They make up lies and call it true
They're fake behind your back
Hoping someday that you'll crack.

They hate you because your real.
no matter what they say you always heal
They're surprised to see you rise,
That you're not affected by all these lies


They hate you because you smile at them
It shows them that your a real gem
You are always true and do your best :)
Sometimes these haters just cant test

They hate you for no reason
Despite it all, you smile
whatever the reason
At the end of the day
All i'm gonna say
All i plan to be 
IS ME


-Sanderline Fleury :)

| Details | Judgement Poem | |

Sentenced

They place my vowel
Under barren landscape

Sipping from cracked porcelain cup
Of an alienated heartbeat

Devilish grins
Slapping Karma’s bottom,
A quarterback’s misguided win

Liar’s prophetic retinas glaze
With metric, disciplinary ruler

They place my consolidated lyric
On upper hand
Of cubic zirconium petulance

Their torn, lanolin coated tissue
Degrading polyester embedded uniform

Mislead by “savior’s” belief
A desolate embodiment of character

They observe me
With cherry coated pupils
Through rusty, iron bars

Its frosty echoes
Portraying fickle sonatas in these stale winds

Yet,
My ambient tear
Is simply a hoax for their recycled victory

Holding wooden spoon against my waist

Ready to crawl

©Drake J. Eszes

| Details | Judgement Poem | |

The Same

You used to look at me.

You glanced upon my ripened, caramel skin
With palpitated affirmations
Of your smile

Love
Friendship

Inebriated

Your titanium pupils
Illuminating across Merlot filled chalices

Another umbrella drop
Another hungry thrust
Unto solemn choruses

Another choir of sonatas
Filling our bells
Turning the tides
Against full moon deceptions

Yet, the sun rose.

We would lie on park benches’ lap
As I covered my thorns
To avoid your judgments
Drawing your attention to cresting waves
By our lakeside

Yet, the clouds rolled in.

As vehement rainfall
Caused my roots to blossom
My thorns to strengthen

You were poked by my errors.

Another angel cries.

These wingless flaws I shed
Within retinal waterfalls

As I hold onto empty, rickety barrel
For dear tomorrows

Am I
Now
Not good enough for you

Has your pulse’s arrhythmia from yesterday
Become
Stagnant

Will you still take my hand
In whimsical slow dance
Through God’s uncertainty

Because, tomorrow,
I will still be the same.

©Drake J. Eszes

| Details | Judgement Poem | |

And Yet They Judge

There are those who have fallen
in the eyes of this world,
one’s “sins” more damaging than the next.
“Skeletons from closets”
so ruthlessly hurled
and so many people are left vexed.

Now I do not condone
all that comes to light
whether by papers, radio or TV.
But what if it was YOU
whose “sins were in sight,
are there things you’d want others to see ?

The world does these things
and yet they judge,
from the arm of a pointed finger stare they.
But they conveniently hide
their “filthy sludge”,
and yet in His court they’ll have their day.


                   I wrote this in response to a prodding that wouldn’t leave me alone. 
Thinking on some people who walk in the limelight or of a high public profile, I started to be 
perplexed about our willingness to BROADCAST the latest Hollywood gossip or the latest
political “fall from grace”. I am in no way condoning unwarranted behaviors and these are 
times that call for the appropriate action to be taken no matter who the offenders are. I’m 
just saying shame on those who are so willing to point fingers and yet do or would do some of 
the very same things if they could.                  Lightwalker

Premium Member Poem | Details | Judgement Poem | |

Jane Doe


Her legacy, a carnage littered place. 
A crassness hidden by a comely face. 
How many roles she played to such acclaim
The naive lovers crushed with cool disdain. 

Such cruelty, in order to succeed, 
Disguised by gifted wit to mask her greed. 
When front doors opened, back doors quietly closed, 
A sense of flawless timing, one supposed. 

When those betrayed per-chance began to meet, 
Comparing scars and tales of her deceit, 
She sensed a coming rage was bearing down 
And disappeared to bless another town. 

One speculates her looks began to fade;  
An ending of the money-men parade.
The crushing weight of countless dues unpaid; 
A pauper's grave, the toll of evil ways. 

 
Gene Bourne. 
06-14-13.

| Details | Judgement Poem | |

Under the Tall Trees

Of dust, of dirt;
suspended, lost, remarkable.

Of no merit;
forgotten, under the tall trees.

And bury him;
No accurate history serves.

Under cross;
buried in sand,
buried in dirt.

His face will carry forth,
past this miserable state.

To birth,
to die;
forth not.

Behold;
of man, 
of earth.

Of dust, of dirt;
suspended, found, 
frozen in time.

| Details | Judgement Poem | |

Hidden Mountains

A solo pilot, lost in snow,
in a jagged mountain pass,
his eyes are trained upon each tree,
and the shape of each crevasse…
In an open-cockpit time machine,
the winter wind does howl,
but a mighty fire’s burning bright,
inside the engine cowl.
The fog and flurry blinding him,
he searches for a trail,
running late, and miles behind,
he’s employed to fly the mail.
He looks for clues to lead him back,
like ancient, sunken wagon tracks.
A mumbled cuss, then shouts out loud,
he’s heard that mountains hide in clouds…   
Now’s the time to pay the toll,
for conversations with his soul.
One way in, and one way out,
it’s true that mountains hide in clouds.
 
Copyright © 2013
 

| Details | Judgement Poem | |

Reality's Angel

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

Premium Member Poem | Details | Judgement Poem | |

No mans land

No mans land



He lives in no mans land

That’s how he is today

He don’t belong to Them

He don’t belong to they

He’s caught there in the middle

No going on, or back

He’s frozen there in no mans land

Way off the beaten track.



A man stands all alone

Cause he’s half way in between

He’s shunned by all society

And often folk are mean

Because they cannot understand

A man who has no labels

And because he speaks his truths

They think that he’s not too stabile.



He’s a man who walks alone

For he knows he always will

Disagree with all the norms

So folk think he is ill

Though his life it be not lonely

And his mind is calm and still.



He gets no kind of comfort

From praise that comes from others

He gained his views from the ancient books

That all men should be brothers

But he knows here in this no mans land

That none will understand

So he keeps himself for those who love him

No friends he does demand.



30 April 2010...0730 hrs.


| Details | Judgement Poem | |

Hounds from Hell

Hounds from Hell take their toll on your soul
as you walk the mainstreet of mainstream
and watch Saturn and Neptune dance to a simple tone
of silence in the outer space.
As you sit in the middle of the world
alone;
free yourself from the sense of hopelessness,
only see yourself in the mirror of deception
as your reflection laughs at you and looks right through you,
and doesn't have remorse for what it says or does to you.

Hounds from Hell take your soul,
chock you, cut of your air,
the smog and fog blind you in the city of ash.
Hear the hounds from hell howl for your soul,
go now, barracade your soul behind sins and temptation,
Alone, listening to your soul die away,
watch love go away from you, with suitcase in hand,
picture frames broken and collect dust through the sands of time.
Till the cleaning lady comes on Monday, to clean the mess
that you left behind.
You are gone, without a trace of ever returning.
Looks of the Hounds of Hell came for you and stole you from
comfort and warmth,
till the sorrowed heart cracks and pain spills out
and you look at it all spill out over the floor.
The Hounds from Hell have paid a consumable harmage to you,
and your rich soul of sorrowness burns away... slowly.

Fear darkens souls,
innocent souls burn with a new day,
a slumber that has no end
with nightmares haunting every light of hope
there is left in this desolate Wasteland.
Fear and darkness tears a hole in the darkened universe
and we all go to hell to see the Hounds,
who come for us all.
The graveyards fill,
and death guards the tombstones of the dead,
and the flowers burn away on the feet of the dead.

-10/14/2013-

| Details | Judgement Poem | |

The Hammer

Who can hear, the mornings call?
The dead dove's body, as it des fall.
Who can see through, the dead man's eyes?
As the burning sun, falls from the skies.

What once was new, has now become old,
What once was alive, has now become cold,
What you believed, was worth a lot,
Is burnt to ashes, in the melting pot.

Let's start again, I hear them say,
Let's start again, another day,
Let's make again, what we made before,
Spill more blood, on the kitchen floor,
Lift the cross, up on the hill,
Load the guns, to fight and kill.

Fight and slaughter, till there's non one left,
Till your mind is empty, your heart is deaf,
You thought that, I was a soldier too,
You thought that I said, I love you,
But I tell you now, and I tell it true,
The angles of heaven, and the angels of hell,
Are riding now, to the ring of deaths bell.

What you thought, was silver and gold,
Are ashes and dust, on the open road,
What you knew was good, what you knew was true,
The hot sun has dried, like the morning dew,
The very memory, of hope and despair,
Is lost in the hole, of your soul laid bare.

The empty hole, behind the clouds,
The music and the laughing crowds,
Are dead and gone, have faded away,
As a new sun rises, on a bright new day,
I tell you now, and I tell you true,
As the hammer of me hits the anvil of you

| Details | Judgement Poem | |

Dont Judge Me

Dont judge me for mistakes Ive made
Sins I have commited or games I have played,
Dont judge me for the things I say
Some things slip we have those days,
Do not judge me because of my past
Change happens but not always fast,
Dont judge me when i fall
For a matter of fact dont judge me at all

Premium Member Poem | Details | Judgement Poem | |

Call Me Insensitive

You call me insensitive,
But I don't believe that's true;
Because, you see,
It's all about me.
It's not about you.

You say your opinion doesn’t matter,
That I’ve no respect for your point of view;
But I do if we agree,
Because it’s all about me.
It’s not about you.

You say I’ve no compassion,
No feelings for your troubles or your blues;
But none of us is issue free,
And mine are all about me;
But…not about you.

A time old adage, 
“To thine own self be true.”,
Is all about choices you see.
My choices are all about me,
And, certainly, not about you.

So, when free or forced to make your choices
You’ll understand and know it’s true 
To decide what will or will not be,
Won’t be at all about me;
It will be all about you

But special moments confront each of us,
When what matters isn’t “Me”.
And while these moments are few,
They’re not about me, not about you.
For a time, it’s all about “We.”

Yes, “…no man is an island.”
Is a valid point of view;
But if it’s not about “We”, 
Then it’s all about me.
Sorry.  It’s not about you.