Poem | |
~ATLANTIS~ Featuring:) Kelly Deschler
Can't be re-written by the Gods
The land and sands of time'
Destroyed by the fire of Poseidon's curse
Atlantis swallowed by: Earth
In one day and one night
Peaceful existence met its end
Built on a volcano, now surrounded by ancient rippled tears
Lava stripped apart the rich and glorious empire
Enriched by Engineers and Architects whom loved power more than the Gods
Forgotten souls, sheltered by a watery grave
History withheld from shallow sunken memories,
Western sky's hide the truth, a vision from the Pillars of Hercules
"An island situated in front of The Strait of Gibraltar"
Ghostly ruins wait to rise above the Mediterranean and Atlantic Waves
A magical island held down by the hands of death,
Atlantis lost city walls ---a secret hidden by mermaids
Partially buried, beneath the ocean floor it lies
The largest sunken treasure never to be found
Magnificent pillars of an imperial palace still stand
Somewhere hidden under ancient sand
Some are leaning against turrets, that toppled after the impact
Nothing human will ever inhabit these walls
No feet will ever touch these staircases, again
Only an eerie silence now resides here, with the blue-green waters
Seaweed grows along it's outer walls, like ivy on a trellis.
Obscuring it even further from the human eye.
Other ocean tides will never compare
Tantalizing blend of fantasy and mystery
Stone walls covered with precious gems
-Listen to PLATO'S voice-
"Look close, Look close, into the sea!"
Through the light and Pillars of Hercules
Some where out there buried in the vast
ATLANTIS THE PARADISE
~A Poet Destroyer Collaboration~
Poem | |
If we don’t feel with our hearts, we don’t belong
If we don’t see as one, the world is wrong
Beyond the wars and the hate and the insanity
We are all connected as humanity
We are the child with cancer who still wears a smile
We are the kid from the projects facing trial
We are the pregnant teen feeling lost and used
We are the elderly man in a home abused
We are the young couple, marriage on the rocks
We are the homeless one in a cardboard box
We are the cold and hungry, sad and depressed
We are the lonely child who never felt blessed
We are the woman whose life was filled with pain
We are the man standing alone in the pouring rain
We are the child who struggles day to day
We are the teenage girl who ran away
We are the soldier killed in an unjust war
We are the young man who can dream no more
We are the inmate locked away for life
We are the old man who has lost his wife
We would be better off without our vanity
And have a sense of belonging to humanity.
Poem | |
Deep cuts from within.
She faced bravely the many hardships of womanly life.
How did she end up here?
Severe depression after her first mental breakdown.
Sorrow oppressed what was left.
Now in the parallel universe,
Never aware of the world left behind.
She will catch a brief glimpse of this world where everything is different.
Losing the veil in which includes time,
Aging without caring death awaits!
Her different personality replaces reality.
Things appear normal in her the eye.
Although captivate in her own mind,
She feels this is freedom.
Being heavily burdened--
Every day she stares into different mirrors,
Smiling in her bipolar face.
Without knowing insanity put her mind at ease.
Poem | |
I called to the winds of autumn
As they wrapped up the dying year;
"Oh stay for a moment and tell me
Of answers I need to hear".
Who is the rival of prudence
Who is the merchant of crime
Who closes the eyes of beauty
And steals the hours of time?
Who brings the winter to age
From the springs of the fountain of youth
Who is the companion of sorrow
And destroys the justice of truth?
Who's the apprentice of Satan
The Prince of the Power of Air
Whose appetite is transgression
With more than enough to share?
Who weakens the power of the great
Who slaughters the wisdom of wise
Who brings the honest and gracious
To depths that others despise?
The winds of autumn now answered
With a voice like a phantom call
"It's an evil afflicting so many
Who drown in the drink alcohol."
This is the spell of the devil
Who casts his net from hell
An addiction with power to destroy
Gathering all who are caught in its spell
For his net will gather the unwary
To beguile lost souls with his breath;
This is the destruction of lost dreams
That perish in the arms of death
Poem | |
I stare at my ceiling,
I start to wonder, why am I not healing?
Then it dawns on me,
The nightmare clip starts to roll.
I shake and shiver and wince at every little thing.
I'm scared to death,
What does this all mean?
I start to cry,
I feel as if I might die.
Then I grab my blade,
The tears come quicker.
My breath starts to quicken,
My grip on the blade makes my knuckles turn white.
In the mirror is where I see that my ivory skin is now blotchy and red.
I tell myself, "This may be the last time, if you finally cut deep enough."
So I try my best not to make a sound
As I sit up in bed and hold my wrist out in front of me.
I count to three,
I put the blade to my wrist.
I start to add pressure.
I yank the blade across my skin,
It pierces and then I start to bleed.
I suddenly want it to stop,
But there's no going back now.
I wonder why it came to this,
I know nobody cares about me,
I know nobody is going to forget me.
Quietly I say, "I'm sorry."
But nobody is there,
No one will ever be.
I start to fade out of this world,
My addiction would finally be gone,
And so would I.
I was lost,
Lost and angry.
Suddenly, it was gone,
I woke up screaming.
The pain was oh-so real.
Poem | |
Daddy never did understand.
That violence doesnt bring comfort.
A lost soul seeking acceptance from a unwelcome hand.
She was silent no one ever knew.
The secrets behind her bruised eyes.
A shocking victem none but all had a clue.
She cried to empty walls never speaking aloud from fear.
A confession of pain and shattred trust.
this is only what angles hear.
Scars selfinflicted are better than that
As she lays a broken shell gazing at the celling.
She questions if others know what will they say.
Doing whatever it takes to stay numb.
Innocence lost a parent should never betray.
The guilt was placed apon the wrong head.
Void of all emotion.
No child should yern to be dead.
At times it gets to uncomfortable so in
another direction we steer.
For at times it's just to painful to stomach.
What only angles hear.
Poem | |
If e're we could move that mountain from between thee and me,
where would be lament or reason to grieve?
How remove the hollow from the tree, or shore from the sea?
What left would there be?
What if ere the beam lost it's moon.
Or lovely Autumn raiment lost it's tree? What then would it be?
Can one sow the seed without the land?
Would this be what Powers planned?
The grief, the longing, oh, the heartfelt gaze,
The strife the loneliness, but a soulful phase.
A mountain surmountable, a hollow fulfilled,
A sea able to be, a beam again spilled.
A stage again for raiment,... a fertile valley for seed.
Our love could not be boundless without the bonds of these.
Poem | |
When my final shadows cling on desperately
Where I fight formidable battles
to merely hold the light
I send you loving vibrations
and soul sustenance
Deep from the cathedral
of one heart to another
where today no choirs sing
nor symphonies play
Yet it is here where we meet
in spiritual solace
here to surrender
and exchange inestimable treasures
like unopened letters
Galaxies are stretched
over chronicles of shared history
Nebula birthing stars
will be exposed
in forth-coming conversations
bringing short-lived fulfillment to you
Hungry to feast
now will be the time
to approve your blood art vision
and with my own haunting surrender
as dappled shades ink stain your chest
I will reside with you and share, mesmerised
pens - by branding
as this will be your written reams to me
your artist's pallet or brushed canvas
no need for words
and yet creating
mysterious magical moments
Bitter-sweet the music
that dances taut guitar strings
but now blood approved
please go kick your heel up
return to your laughter
and ride on the breeze
for not all are lost
for I am with you always
to love, listen and comfort as one
with you in me and I in you
Poem | |
These are the confessions of an Anarchist,
stepped away from the light,
entered the shadows
of forbidden caverns,
the caves, tunnels
and catacombs of anarchy.
Here a constant, cold caress
a persistent inner rain
pooling alongside lonely thoughts.
Nothing would grow that deep underground,
not even fungus, nor lichen.
I survived on sheer will and dampness,
lungs mutated into gills,
eyes became accustomed
to this ever-present night.
A Mission lost in translation and transmission,
a rogue satellite orbiting
through thin air's mind-bending space,
cut-off from other agents of Anarchy.
I slithered along corridors of broken souls,
fed on regurgitated thoughts
and drowned dreams of cities burning down,
melting like hot candle wax.
How I wanted the cities above to burn!
To burn down into the ground
in waves of rolling thunder and lightning.
Not able to differentiate between night and day,
weeks gave birth to months
in a C-section of fleeting years.
Somehow I stumbled upon a side entrance,
felt warmth pushing in,
and my will shattered apart,
fusing back together into Plan B.
As I broke the surface,
light seared my tightly shut eyes,
breaching eyelids with ease.
The pain felt wonderful,
changing into a delirious exultation
and heated comfort,
thawing out frozen, stiff bones.
Rays of sunlight rippled across my skin,
evaporating the slimy, cavernous musk,
burning me on the outside,
cleansing me from the inside.
Eventually I was able to keep my sore eyes open
while they felt ready to sizzle and explode from sensory overload,
globules floating through my vision.
The first thing I clearly saw
was not close up magnified,
but the distant horizon enveloped in a halo
of lemon haze, arching between two mountain peaks.
skin buzzing from the sun's heat.
how sunlight changes the perspective of nightmares,
revealing reality's potential fibers,
balancing the darkness within,
bending the remaining droplets of lost hope
into a prismatic ribbon of brilliance and prayer,
always evading the deep-rooted catacombs below,
a place I will choose to forego,
only entering within memories,
until even these are burned away by sunlight,
until even these are cleansed by sunlight.
2013 Double-Rainbow Remix
December 18th/19th, 2013
(originally written April 12, 2011)
Poem | |
You have forgotten the times that were tender
You have hidden the wounds that cut deep;
Sweet dreams of the past fade when the splendor
Dims in the twilight as the sun goes to sleep.
The haze of lost memories hovering over
Will abandon the enchantment that lost its way
And the arms of time will give hours to cover
The raw wounds that darken the day.
You will forget me, the love we once shared
Has vanished in the attempt at disguise;
The dream we once knew can't be repaired
It’s gone with the light that once lit your eyes.
Yearning for times past is beyond wanting
For all we had, and love will soon seem
An empty room with phantoms now haunting
The space in your heart that died with the dream.
I will forget you and forgive you for saying
The callous words that brought such pain;
Time moves on and the lament now playing
Has moved on to a happier strain.
I'm gone from your life, I am gone forever
The times we shared now submerged in the past;
Love buries it dead but sorrow kills never
I have forgotten your memory at last.
Poem | |
I am standing outside my bedroom, on the precipice of lost innocence.
Wide eyed, and barefoot on cold hardwood.
Someone is hammering on our front door.
My father, looking a bit annoyed, shuffles anxiously down the stairs.
Tussled hair, a bewildered vein bulging in his forehead,
wearing his old, blue plaid robe, the one with the woven rope belt,
he looks like a lightweight boxer, ready to enter the ring.
There are two grim faced policemen waiting on the front porch.
My mother, at the top of the stairs, clutches the neck of her gown.
She looks as if she might choke herself.
Confused concern, reflects in sleep swollen eyes.
They ask my father, “How well do you know those folks across the road?”
As they notice me standing on the stairs, they quickly lower their voices.
In a hushed, rather husky monotone, they explain to my father...
whispering something about a boy who has taken a shotgun out into the hills…
He has taken his own life…and has been identified as the boy...,
the teenager, who lives kitty-corner across our road.
The same kid who mowed our grass when Dad was sick for a spell last summer.
The one who bags Mom’s groceries at the local A & P.
They think I don’t hear them ……but I do…
and I hear them ask my father,
would he, please, come along to help them break the news?
My father, glazed eyes, and head low, steps away a moment, to quickly dress.
I remember hearing my mother gasp, then suck in a sob,..
But then is right behind me, pulling me towards her…..
and I can feel her heart pounding, through flannel of my pajamas.
She is squeezing my shoulders..so hard that it hurts,.... somehow I don’t mind.
I look up seeking reassurance,.... her eyes are huge, …
and she knows that I have heard….
And we both know,...that nothing will ever be the same.
After this day is over, the childhood of yesterday, will wear a different face…
Father pulls a coat over his pajama tops, …he gives my mother a touch on the arm.
With a desolate look at me, he touches my head.
He steps out into the darkness of a not quite dawn.
And through the window, I can see the line of shadows on the lawn.
Three men, like hunched over soldiers, walking slowly into the wounds of a new day.
(Sadly, this is based on a true story)
Poem | |
Loss Lost Love
by~ GARY FIELDS
Why my love left?
I soon forget the reason's why
All that I remember
Is that she left such
An empty space
An empty trace
So many memories
Which can not be erased
And I die just a little inside
And time mean's nothing to me'
Fore you mean so much to me
- And -
Then ever so slightly
I wish for quiet subtle change
And I don't know since when
But time just set's end on end
And smoke appears below
Which can choke a friend
A friend in need
Certainly not you love
And once again, ever so slightly
I wish for quiet suttle change
It has been three weeks (03) now
And things' are all in a clammer'
Thing's just seem to set end on end
And nothing seem's to matter
An I make a vowel for thee
In a time that is lost for- ever
O'h, how I wish to belong
by~ Poet Destroyer
I can see the pain!
I came to you no longer.
Looking for answers,
I cried till I could no more..
At the empty space hiding in my heart,
I knew then that day was the end.
Thoughts ran like rivers,
flowing a stream down my face.
You picked the pieces up as I walked away.
With no more to open and say.
When holding wasn't holding to me no more,
You opened up your heart, in hopes I could feel.
We cried into the night,
until the early morn.
We scolded each other's pain,
searching and seeking each others heart.
As time drew, second begun to fade.
I saw our lovers nest fading,
as the night grew thick.
The moment had arrived,
why did we say goodbye?
Now we sit alone,
reminiscing the past that vaporized into thin air.
An empty trace'
An empty space'
Oh! How I wish to belong!
A collaboration with * GARY FIELDS
My collaboration contest
Poem | |
Inside the Dishwasher everyone rushed!
Clinks, clanks, rattles, 'Ouches' and ' Ohs'!
"Would you pa--lease, settle down!" said Deb--They hushed.
"Now we can hear...let's just see how this goes."
Curious, Peter, looked out through a chinc,
And watched Vie and Chris-- approaching by twos.
They opened the door--and who do you think--
Standing there wearing her fine Jimmy Choos,
Ms Lost Sonnet!--spoke not a word--but winked.
Wilma Wine-Corkscrew, dressed in purple hues
Gave the 'all clear', and Peter spread the news.
"We're having a party Ms Sonnet, please,
Won't you join us? It's a magic party
For Peter", said Ruben Rotisserie.
Bob Blender poured her a drink--quite hardy.
Connie Candellabra was flaming bright
As Ms Sonnet swept past to the soft couch.
Carolyn Cookie Jar screamed with such fright,
"Quick! She's on fire!" Then Lost cried, "Ouch!"
"I'll save her", said Catie Collander. "Here!"
But the water leaked through her like a sieve.
Susan Spatula yelled, "Have no fear, dear!"
Yet, the fire held on and would not give--
Others tried, but could not stop the fire.
Then Peter said, "I wuw twy! I can do it!
With 'Awwy, I can fwy! Way up highya!
Togethwa, we can save Ms Wost Sonnet!
Awwy is my fwend. He tawks funny, too!
He's aw the way fwom Engwand and he is
My Supwa Cape! So I can fwy! It's twue!
No H's wive theaw--his name is wike this:
'Awwy--not Hawwy." So now, they all knew.
"Did I 'ear some bloke colling my name?"
"Yes! 'Awwy, me! We've Ms Sonnet to save!"
Harry Handtowel--AKA, Super Cape--fame
Was now on the neck of Peter the Brave!
With no hesitation quickly they flew,
Smothered the fire and saved just one shoe.
Brittle and weak, Lost needed more than glue...
"She needs magic! Oh! Paweeze! What can we do?"
"Peter...we only made enough for you".
Said Carol Crock-pot. They all cried, "Boo Hoo..."
"Then give huw my magic! That's what you do!"
So quickly they sprinkled the magic brew.
Ms Sonnet was greatful--then said, "Adieu".
"Peter, you've done well," said Anne Assam Tea,
"Let's all have a cup'a tea and you'll see...
"'Magic's believing in yourself, --frankly,
Do that--and you can do--anything!"
*Special appearance by "Lost Sonnet", courtesey of David Williams...with much gratitude, thank you all for appearing ;)...Peter has many adventures to come...big hugs, love you all, cap'n deb
Poem | |
Winds may howl,
Wild animals growl,
The forest grows cold,
For I am lonesome and old
As the sun peaks through the clouds,
I hear your soft, young voice so loud!
And though you speak dead man's lines,
You speak them with majesty divine
As I am wrapped in my woe,
I only want you to know...
...that roses die black and violets lose blue,
But I will never die
And you know I love you!
Poem | |
God named me a straying cloud,
and by His perpetual wish I abide...
as the loneliest cloud floating on the earth's breeze.
I glance below and discover the yellow daffodils pride,
and fluttering they dance beneath the apple trees;
and as a sparrow I feel the bond.
My night visitation is more exciting than broad daylight,
I encounter many stars and make them my friends,
and they love shining on the Milky Way...
looking down on the lonely bay so bright;
and tossing their luminous heads, they brightly dance:
so happy they have come my way!
Even the ocean's waves join them in their play,
but their dance is better than theirs,
and at such wondrous sight I make verse...
being offered their warm company;
I am amazed by how they roll and still gazing away,
I do admire the spectacle that gladdens me.
So often, on my couch I gladly lie to rest,
but overwhelmed by empty or moody thoughts,
that splendid image flashes in the glow of the sunset;
my daffodils still wave and invite me to dance,
and I dance with them, making a happy sound...
not to feel the loneliness of a lost cloud.
Entered in Brian Strand's Adaption poetry contest
This is an adaption of Williams Wordsworth's poem,
"I wandered lonely as a cloud"
Copyright 2009 by Andrew Crisci
Poem | |
In the past, my country
cradled me within her womb,
but our roles reversed.
I held her in my arms,
felt her slip away.
I lost my country today.
Gave her up to synthetic medicine,
and pie-charts overseas.
They wrenched her from my arms,
took her from my loving arms
to poke, to prod and draw blood.
I prayed while watching attempts made
at her resuscitation,
as greedy hands held out pens,
prodding me to fill in the proper forms.
The world is on lithium,
the drug has defiled the last drop of clean water.
My country was on lithium,
for her, the vibrant colours turned into dull grays,
and in the end, her heart gave way
from having spent too many decades
trapped within a gilded cage.
She had an organ donor card -
her organs were sold off one-by-one
while she still clung onto life.
Her organs were removed,
replaced with waving flags
and roaring stadiums.
Men from every standing, race and creed,
groped Motherland's body
after causing her to bleed.
Many men had laid with her.
Oh, how they did.
At least some men showed decency,
graced her with meaningful caresses.
But they were far and few between -
between the rape, miscarriages and spoils.
Lithium is being slipped into my drink,
into my food, into the very air I breathe,
so daily I purge,
horrified by my country's overdose.
She looks decrepit, splayed out in the morgue,
a cardboard ticket hanging from a big toe
like an empty, whorish price tag.
I will have to give her a proper burial in my mind,
for they are going to have Mother embalmed,
encase her in a glass coffin,
and put her on display.
Our Mother passed away,
yet the land is here to stay.
I will walk across clear-cut ridges,
pass through neon-lit distractions
as a gypsy vagabond.
From now on, the territorial lines
mean nothing more to me than rules to follow.
The shell of this country remains,
Nationalism has turned empty-hollow.
I lost my country today.
Gave her up to synthetic medicine,
and pie-charts overseas.
I lost my country today,
held her in my arms,
watched her slip away,
felt her slip away.
April 30th, 2012
Poem | |
It seems that all my life I’ve seen some darker times
Now and then the times I knew were more than I could stand.
But, learn we must, from all hard times and soon we come to know
It’s trying times that we go through that makes a boy a man.
When we feel weak at heart and think we’ll never make it
Our spirit strengthens us to somehow carry on.
It’s then we learn that just at midnight things could get no worse
And soon we see the darkness fade and midnight brings the dawn.
Every midnight has a dawning
Every dawning has a day
Where daylight shines on things remembered
And some things lost along the way.
And every passing daylight
Brings evening into play
Where we’ll face another midnight
That brings, yet, one more dawning day.
It seems a pattern thus emerges,
Monotonous as it may seem,
Every midnight brings a dawning,
Filled with all our daylight dreams.
Dreams are meant to bring survival
To those who may have lost their way.
Who found the darkness of the midnight
Kept the dawning light at bay.
So, as near as I can figure,
There’s this we can rely on
However bleak the darkest midnight,
After midnight comes the dawn.
Written by John Posey
Poem | |
He was just a child who wandered off
Lost and alone trying to find his way
Starting to get dark and didn't know where he was
He cried for his mom and began to pray
Being in the woods with no sense of direction
Too dark to see and afraid to run
A stranger appeared out of the darkness
And said don't be afraid, I'll help you, son
Mom had been praying for her lost little boy
Neighbors helped search with the police all around
On the third day, sitting there in a clearing
He was no longer missing, now he was found
Mom hugged her son and started to cry
The little boy said Mom I'll be alright
Where is the stranger that helped me out
He stayed with me through each dark night
He told me when he was a little boy
That once he had gotten lost too
His mom and Dad were very upset
Because they didn't know what to do
Then the little boy shouted, Hey Mom, that's him
I would know him anywhere
When I was lost and so afraid
He came to me and was always there
Look at him Mom, I feel so sad
I don't know what to say
Tell me Mom, what did He do wrong
Why did they hang Him on the cross that way?
If we truly believe, He will always be there when we need Him most.
Poem | |
When I close my eyes I see your face
Shining beautiful like summer's grace
I see sweetness in the curve of your smile
Which lingers in my mind for a while
Yet in your eyes I see a lonely dove
Who yearns for man's honest love
Majority of your years you've had so much strife
Yet you still deserve a man in your life
So break the bonds and mould the pain
For there is still much more to gain
Poem | |
Sitting all alone
Sitting pondering time
Time I can't get back
Time travel is impossible
Impossible is but a state of mind
Impossible until it's possible
Possible to rise
Possible to think
Think beyond here
Think past now
Now is more than now
Now is the intersection
Intersection between yesterday and tomorrow
Intersection of logic and imagination
Imagination removes boundaries
Boundaries set in stone
Boundaries impossed by others
Others not worthy
Others to whom we gave our power
Power that was never their's
Power to change
Change is inevitable
Change changes everything
Everything and nothing
Everything is connected
Connected by time
Connected by thought
Thoughts we ponder
Thoughts thought by greater minds
Minds over matter
Matter is not a solid thing
Matter is vibrating energy
Energy is not in short supply
Energy is in all things
Things that seem small
Things thought insignificant
Insignificant until they are not
Insignificant teeters on possible
Compatibilities of opposites
Compatibilities not seen with naked eyes
Eyes lost in memories
Blinded by sad
Poem | |
Set upon the new world stage within the burning fires of hell. Silently posed factions of the elite, suppress the true inherit of Mother Earth. The meek children bending over for millennium, taken spankings of bare bottoms, pelted slavery.
Upon entry to rule, the open stage of smoked mirrors began to reflect back upon the podium of lies. Taught by scholars from university books of political science. Fearful of leadership matching mirrored images, of false pretense, babbling rhetoric. The stirring masses of discontented, individualistic, thought of as dead - enders, trouble makers, and rebel rousers, rallied aimlessly.
With super hero, Captain Do Gooder, bleeding helpless on the floor of Wall Street. Weary lost hope combatants mustered courage, and accepted destiny. To this point, someone shouted against the wind of change. Felt by all who sensed the importance.
"To death do us part of the purpose to which we, the united, stand for justice".
The chant began, as Captain Do Gooder was dragged away, and cuffed, once bleeding helpless on the floor of Wall Street.
Damn the torpedoes. Damn the torpedoes.
Captain Do Gooder, fallen, bruised ego matching skinned knees, lays helpless. Who will save them now.
Second glances from high rise penthouses. Serving champagne and caviar. Brought iron clenched hands once hidden, to draw the stage curtain down.
With Captain Do Gooder nowhere to be found. The voice that came from pain of pupil. Born within broken dreams of promised lands. Realized nothing was coming cheap on this occupation.
The dusty streets found Captain Do Gooder aimlessly stepping against the winds of change, down Wall Street. The well-intentioned, arrested and broken spirited, lost hope of recycling any salvage rights taken from them by Metro.
Was this the end of the well thought out, pushed down occupation.
Was this the beginning, of the underground faction. Where was senior generation X hiding. Only Captain Do Gooder and the well-intentioned, world stage occupiers, hold the key to that Pandora's box of hope.
The peoples across the oceans were already springing far ahead in their own, more brutal campaign. For they had no cushion on which they were raised to kneel against. Tyranny ran over them. A lesson yet not felt, or learnt, or taught, in the new world. No chance of city mayors issuing eviction notices. Bullets, tanks and bombs were of the order. Brought down the line, traced back to the ones our United Nations to this day, refuse to acknowledge.
While leaders there home internet shop, and pump out the lies. Everyone dies.
In the heart of the continent of center, where unto which as mankind sprang forth, for its first and ever conquest.
The lights kept dim, to obscure the violent cleansing. A facade to disguise once moreover, the brutal tyranny for which the greed of the elite, control the dimmer switch. Diamonds and oil fuel the fire of war and oppression, on this stage of greed and guilt. Too far away, and too many distractions upon center stage for one to see or care. Thought and looked upon by most as racially motivated. The origins of all mankind, to be left, far too far, behind. The true forsaken people. Why is man unkind.
So..........will Captain Do Gooder raise the bar to which drinks for the house, and all around, will quench the thirst felt by ninety nine percent of the people............mother knows best.
Yet, still, self-inflicted roadblocks of appointed destiny, drop kicked long days past. Faint light shining far ahead, within the tunnel of hell, brought up to land. Firm above the depths to which it sprang. The truth of world order.
Wait......what do we see......do our closed eyes deceive our cries........................................
We see Captain Do Gooder catching second wind.
She breathes deep now and all can hear her war cry, no longer whimpering softly. As in past tense situations, given way to dazed and confused wall street *****es.
She builds momentum, as our brothers and sisters lay dying and bleeding. On the streets of some not so distant for telling, of what's to be, will never not be coming full steam ahead and plowing through the hidden agenda. One step beyond the line drawn in the sand of time, we thought would never be crossed. Give way thoughtless future tellers, and takers. Still holding firm with paper cuts, deep into the hands who printed and prepared such slave papers, kept by the elite bankers.
Captain Do Gooder returns renewed and refreshed. Our true Mother.
Captain Do Gooder feels strong, as bruised knees and scraped hands heal.
Brush of destiny sweepstakes, allots winnings of earth shaking, volcano erupting, tsunami tidal waves, with bonus draws of worldwide chaos. Future draws are to be held with worldwide winners. Grand prize, dead oceans rising.
The next generation have no fear digest writes the next chapter.
Hold the press down firmly wall street backbiting backbenchers. Drawn into the crossfire, on her mark, place the x on the next general who dares not fall into civil disobedience.
Captain Do Gooder has grown teeth, and she is biting down hard against the line to pipe riches, spoiled from her lands. Stolen from the first pilgrimage, fifteen thousand years old, lost empire.
How dare you steal from, and pollute the minds of her children. Yet old enough to drink and drug and die in war. How dare all of us.
Meanwhile back at the ranch. Captain Do Gooder hugs tight that tree of life, to which sprang all this elbow rubbing and diversion. Wall street huddles in her corner, painted red to match the lengths to which an end will surely bring to it.
Painted red for all to see.
The end to friendly letter writing, give peace a chance, make love not war, generation taking a bow, and snow birding it, to false sense of security land. Like the ostrich with its head in the sand.
Poem | |
Yesterday I dreamed a dream,
that had no end.
You in your white gown, and long, black hair flowing.
You were calling my name.
I heard you, but I couldn't reach you!
And when I say your soul was tainted.
You went out in the night life.
You dressed in your black, evening ball gown.
You danced till the Red Sun came out, over the horizon.
You smiled at me.
A flame in my heart burned red hot!
My knees and hands shook with nerves;
Nerves of love and joy.
I blew you a kiss,
but you turned away!
Oh, please don't turn away from me,
for I would die, if it happened again!
Your beautiful and golden heart showed me the truth.
The truth that every gentleman wants to hear.
I've seen you walk the streets,
in the blue dawn of August.
As I followed you, you stopped and looked at me.
You smiled so beautifully, and my heart fluttered into oblivion!
You walked with your friends and I went my way.
I couldn't find a single trace of you that day.
I cried out "Why did I leave her like this?!"
I looked for you, all over the courtyards and town squares!
Yet no sight of your beauty.
... No sight of your golden heart, that I hold so dear to mine.
Where did you go?
Why did you leave?
Why did I leave... that is the question!
I should have stayed by your side,
till the ends of time.
Yet I had left.
One gloomy and parish midnight.
I came along a road,
and soon found myself in front of a wayward cafe.
Smiling faces all around me.
I spotted a beautiful face that outstood all the other faces around me.
It was yours.
Your face brought me to sanity and I went over too you!
You spotted me and tried to run!
I caught you in the dirty hallway and pulled you in.
Our eyes met and I fell in love once again.
Sanity re-entered my mind, body and soul.
I kissed you and you kissed back.
You held my hand, and we left the cafe and walked down the street.
The street was gloomy, yet we together brightened the dark street.
We went back to the lit up city streets, of the lands filled with smiling faces,
and we fell in love and slept together.
You lay there in my restless arms and I gave you a sweet kiss,
upon your sweet and soft head.
Your dark hair was sweet smelling and felt of silk.
I closed my eyes and fell asleep with you,
there in my arms and we dreamed together
till the morning came and woke me up,
and took you away from my weak and weary arms.
I dreamed a dream of you.
Poem | |
In a new road,
Rain will fall,
Wind may blow,
Swifting our woe.
The road forever on and on,
Many paths to choose,
Many paths to take,
Through the shadows,
Through the night,
Clouds going by,
There we will lie,
Seeing shivered land,
Seeing the dead seas...
Through the edge,
Miles to go,
Rain may fall,
Through the nightfall,
Through the twilight,
Through the dusk,
Through the dawn,
Paths on and on,
'Till the road comes along...
Poem | |
In churned up soil the poppy rose
On top of death, still steadily grows
And in our minds we see the crosses
That lie in rows and count our losses
Blood that drips from tiniest bloom
Beloved children, lost from the womb
Their essence blown upon the earth
For infinity, will show their worth
And so they marched by decree
A war they fought, so we could be free
The poppy, how we remember them now
So in silence we do reverently bow
One single day, just once every year
To remember all the horror and fear
To give thanks and praise, to those in need
Who saved us through unselfish deed
For so young when they said goodbye
With no idea that so many would die
In Flanders Fields where poppies grow
Innocence, now lays buried in each row
For those that did return safely home
Their spirit lost and so had flown
To fly away among the peaceful skies
With friends and larks with carefree eyes
In the thunder hear the roar of guns
Calling to all our native sons
Arise, arise, from sleep once more
For once again, there will be war
In Flanders Fields, the poppies grow
They cover our loved ones, buried below
Like a blanket, they protect all within
From a world that is ravished by sin
More souls will join them as the years go by
More wars will be fought, as the lark does cry
More fields will be filled, with our dead
And poppies will mark their graves in red
"Lest we forget and more shall die"
"In Flanders Fields our loved ones lie"
Poem | |
Come to me in the hush of night
Come to me in the silence of my dream;
With your sweet smile and eyes so bright
Like sunlight dancing on a stream.
But my eyes are filled with tears
For lost memories of those broken years
The dream so dear, yet bitter sweet
That awakened in a new disguise;
When wanting love we used to meet
And now the ache of yearning eyes
Has slowly closed the door
That once was open and now is no more.
Yet in dreams you come so I can live
A cherished life that yields to death;
Come back in dreams and I will give
Your beating heart its final breath.
Come to me and whisper low
Of a love we lost so long ago.