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Details | Truth Poem | |

A Reminder: To Be


Those of you with a unique voice,
with a vision painted outside the lines of over-regulated cadence and rhyme,
I implore you to continue exploring a core
that is fearless in writing against the grain of convention --
for this very friction is a sandpaper helping to perpetually re-invent 
yourself by smoothing your raw, unfiltered passion
into a timeless chair in which people of the future will sit in
while reading your poetry ....

.... and their brows will crease, their eyebrows will arch into gates
where sighs of enlightenment will pass through,
for they are reading poetry that has not lost its novelty,
nor is it mimicry: a despondent, washed-out version
of 20 million other identically tired poems already written and read.

If you feel yourself being sucked down by the undertow 
of homogenization, fight against the current, drag yourself onto shore,
let sunlight percolate pure word-intentions from the nucleus 
of your ancient psalm-writing ancestry.

Your ancestors left behind DNA building blocks,
disciplinary examples and practices 
with which to construct mitochondrial drift
that bridges together the past and future
into a runway for you to take-off from
after the training wheels have been removed,
and gain a bird's eye view of what was,
what will always be sacred but not yours to build a mynah nest in
once truth's marrow is tasted from its winged divine inspiration --
a bird's eye view lifting above carbon-copy complacency.

To always be the freedom that manifests your luminous originality.




September 18th, 2013

*Author's Note: This piece isn't about writing in form or not writing in form. 
To ass.u.me such, is being short-sighted.

Having been a member here for years now, I have noticed a recurring phenomenon 
on this site. Many times, new members join who showcase a freshness, a sharp distinction in their style and poetic voice. They are a breath of fresh air for this site 
to breathe in. Over time, one can literally watch some of these members begin to homogenize themselves into a more general, stale style of writing. I am not sure 
wot all the variables are for this phenomenon, and it likely differs according to each experience. Depending on circumstance, I can only speculate the reasons why some people are willing to compromise their distinctness on this site. Maybe sometimes it happens because of entering too many contests? Of wanting to fit in with the flock?

When I do see it happen, I want to yell: "No, no, no! Stop! Please don't do it! Turn 
back while you still have the chance! Please don't compromise your distinctness for some inane contest .jpegs and congratulations, or insincere, back-patting comments. One sincerely inspired comment, is worth more than 10,000 petty comments -- worth 
so much more."





+/-

Details | Truth Poem | |

True God

Awakening morning darkness falls heavy clouds
walking outside stretching in deep thought 
Firstly alone dreaming in freedom love 
Looking into the mountains a prayer

Faraway winds howling cry out
snow capped peaks cold reminder
a silver chain running down the face 
The truth always shines its light in the end 

Heavy rains wet upon the brow 
why has life been so cruel to me 
I never chose this path holding  no demons 
condemned in lies with pain and suffering

All one showed was the face of good 
even helping people in the streets 
who almost destroyed my home 
I had forgiven everyone as God is my witness

D-day looms heavy 
the Devil spits his lies 
yet sitting on his fork one will find truth
How could another human be so vile 

To condemn someone 
on a story that has just been made up
never have I stolen from anyone in my life 
in fact the opposite money root of evil I see

Living humble and meek 
has taught me wisdom of my ways 
nature talks to me in winds whispering 
Some walk this earth to be persecuted in the wrong

Proof that justice sometimes fails the innocence
we all are sinners looking down 
at the cold face chiseled in truth
but to bear falsely on someone 

Somethings I will never understand 
You saved me Almighty Lord 
When tortured pleaded in your Heavenly name
Saved my family from Hell

A miracle of life you gave back to me 
I began writing expelling my demons 
Now judgement day is falling upon me 
Oh Heavenly Father save me in my innocence 

And the tears keep falling 
for the love of truth 
what is wrong with this world 
sometimes they are bind to the facts 




Details | Truth Poem | |

One World

Love is not a color,
No hue, neither a race.
All of our blood is the same, 
That runs deep within our veins.

If we could lift up each other,
And know that we all care.
If we help our sisters and brothers,
There's a bond that we'll share.








©2013 Honestly JT

Details | Truth Poem | |

The truth about women

Bestowed with femininity,
     wisdom, elegance, and grace,
     exemplifying dignity, daughter of the human race.

X chromosome integrity
      ordains attributes endowed,
      according by propensity, a nature kind and proud. 
     
Beauty and vitality
     anoint her noble gender,
     magnum opus artistry imparts celestial splendor.

Her marvelous complexity
     gives complementary disposition
     to valiant masculinity for a perfect coalition.

Exquisite physiology
     yields licentious pleasure due
     the wanton sensuality of erotic pas de deux.

Magnificent hologyny,
     woman becomes by thy behest,
     sacred vessel of posterity, with honor ever blessed.

Details | Truth Poem | |

Toddler Sky

-Toddler Sky-

Down where I sleep, 
You hold me, embrace my every way
The Marks up on my skin
You caress, taking away from the ugliness

Watching the simple breath, when I breathe
Breaking the ice, soothing my inner peace
A sweet spray across the paleness in my limbs
Holding the warmth, I've been loved throughout my life.
From picking up sticks to the walking stick
My loving dear I know you will always be there
A few wheel chairs, when broken bones mend
You know my every cure*
Walk with me across the hall
Through the oldness, and the boldness of every color in the sky
Thank you for taking me as I am
A light twinkle' every time I feel the colors of the rainbow drip
Now a newborn takes his form
In you I find the strength to stretch my arms and reach for every star

When happy moments fail, 
I embraced the colors I found in you
I make out every tree, and wonder why and how?
I close my eyes to imagine the fun of chasing fireflies
Tonight I'm keeping my prayers simple, cute, and innocent
I will count sheep and search for sweet lullaby dreams
Smiling like a 3 year old this very moment, 
You think I'm having "Baby Blues."
My loving dear, thanks for having patience,
Painting my way down a toddlers sky
Every time  "P M S" hits

~SKAT~

Details | Truth Poem | |

AN EDUCATED MAN

He reads voraciously

to his young children,
beholden and somewhat bewildered 
by sweet progeny 
their relentless leaching of his words 
hungry baby birds, small peep teachings

He reads sporadically
 
to his father, articles from the paper, 
headlines and bylines,
for his dad has cataracts, now, and velum hands
shake newsprint, making a rattling sound 
too like the quiver of their cloistered skeletons,
all those remains, all those remains

There is wisdom in comics, he has found, 
bucolic rings so like old church bells 
tutoring fields through fog

He still tries to read

his wife,
shared history in eyes,
the geography of long sighs, that topography of belly,  
yes, yes, a theology that spills from parted lips
bless each rumpled sheet, that chemistry 
which repeats poetry, spoken in a dialect, so rare 


He remembers reading an encyclopedia 

in the face of a beggar, once, 
the prophetical sparking from high brows 
which seemed to be only crossed currents,
a lifetime recorded, an unbound edition, A through Z
but when he turned carefully to C,
he'd found a full entry on compassion
and charity

Soon, he'll no longer read music notes

through a soft blur, playing guitar for one
a thousand times more educated then he,
this twelve year old girl, her heart 
an open lecture hall,
that smile of pure academia, 
may she ever be an opus angelorum,
that reaches, will ever reach, 
far past mere hospice walls.







Details | Truth Poem | |

I BELIEVE

Honesty Cross your heart and hope to die* Speak the truth and look directly into someone's eyes Then the world will know you are not lying * this was a phrase we used as children to say we were being truthful 11~20~14 Contest: Didactic Sponsor Regina Riddle ~awarded 5th place

Details | Truth Poem | |

Frank Herrera Once Wrote

Frank Herrera Once Wrote 

Bukowski’s Quote:     An intellectual says a simple thing the hard way 
                                    An artist says a hard thing  in an easy way 

“I don’t care much for long winded ostentatious verbosity 
Full of riddle words to unscramble it’s a poets generosity 

Yes I much prefer the simple enigmatic daily prose in use   
Well structured, it defines Art’s etch a sketch and muse “ 

Dear Frank, 

I own a diary of you that is out of use 
Also a memorial of your tenderness that petitions every day 
The yesterday moments, the one’s long pressed away;
 
Care you,    to stay,    in my thoughts n’ heart for a while 
Well,   we could,    be good friends,        in copious style   
For the language of friendship is etched            overt  
And the silence is what makes    spoken word   act  

Let me leave you with my soul’s converse 
As you free lance my thoughts in sauntered verse 
So let me end this neither bathing in fear nor hope Frank 
For to be honest means that you are being frank, 

Please be kind, when you nudge,
Much Love, Your Fellow Poet & Friend, you’re Vienna 
Also known as Mystic Rose 

Frank’s Words In Quote: 
“If I succeed in entertaining you with what I write 
Then this could be a start  
You then may decide if it be poetry I write, 
And if I am indeed,                              a Poet “

Written in Collaboration with a dear friend, 
Thank you Frank for your love and support, 
For the invisible wings that lifted me the other day 
You were an angel, sent my way, xxx





Details | Truth Poem | |

What if it's true

How would you change?
If it were all true.
Heaven and Angels..
watching over you?

Is there Paradise in
..the hereafter?
Some just don't..
think things matter.

What if Swarms of angels..
like butterflies.
Came to earth..would you realize?
That everything matters
that life's the prize.
How long will it take..
till you recognize..

What if the sun went dark.
What if it were true?
Would you change your ways?
Have a new point of view?

What if the Four horseman..
came galloping in?
Would your conscience feel clear?
Would you regret a sin?

Our toys are just toys..
It's not about money.
It's about loving each other..
and holding your honey.

It's about time..
and what we do with it.
Get up and dance..
or choose to sit.

The choice is yours.
So what will you do?
Will you change your ways?
What if it's true?

Details | Truth Poem | |

The Simple Pen

            The Simple Pen

I am but a simple man with pen in hand
To cut open a slice of universe with verse
And with the ink
Let it bleed not red
It flows instead with mortal colors
Over a life well spent
What is left over
We drink this in a cup
Pour more to fill it up
But little at a time
Too much reality can cloud your mind
Said the simple man with bleeding pen
 

Details | Truth Poem | |

Truths

I feel that some
people have a hard
time
with the truths
around us,
not only the sexual
abuse by priests, 
but all the bad
things
I call it chosen
ignorance

Ignorance is found
in people who,
if confronted with
certain truths,
realize that they
have to accept them
and thereby
acknowledge evil
and that frightens
them
It is too hard,
period.

Details | Truth Poem | |

The Truth About Truth -

Truth burns at the center of all occurrance,
it is a heat that motivates appettites to enlarge,
truth is a multiplier of quests, 
satisfaction always arrives at the porch of a new path,
truth does not reveal endings, only beginings that behave
like currents pushing towards a shore,
truth demands stamina from the finder as well from the seeker,
it dashes in delight from the tired,
indolence receives no invitation from truth because laziness is a debtor,
a fish with no gills,
credit walks not from the bank steps of truth,
one must exchange, transact with it, as wanting is to worth,

Truth holds strength in one hand and suffering in the other,
He gives quarter and meal to surviving artificers who are organizing
their talents for future enterprise,
to the brigand and beggar He puts on a pewter plate
bland beans representing distance,
disillusionment preceeds the knowledge of utility because
new truth means fallacy is an ancestor,

an anthropologist is truth, observing your traits,
orbiting the ability of your judgement,
some of Truth's revelations are more expensive than others,
sometimes He will take your Past and grin like a haughty antique dealer,
truth will invest in your Future as a gambler revisits old glory
speaking fresh fortunes in cold ears,

He is an opportunist incessantly offering information for spirit,
without the ignorant truth becomes a vagabond in a vineyard of sweet rust,
the secret of truth is that it is ours
if we wish to be honest with ourselves,
truth is the inheritence of the strong who know how to make it,
oppossed to those waiting for it -

J.A.B.

Details | Truth Poem | |

The Pain Game

Why do people, want to cause
Other people pain
Where is the Love 
That will break the chain

Someone says something
Then it's tit-for-tat
I've played this before
We all know the score
Now who's up at bat

I think it's time, for us to play
The self healing game
Before there's no one, left
Around to blame

One that's more thoughtful
And much less insane
Let's reach for the Sun
And help everyone
Come out of the rain

All we have, is this fleeting chance
To get this right
No time for jealousies 
No time to fight

Don't say, that you're sorry
Don't seek to forgive
Just start here today
And throw it away
And learn how to live
 





Details | Truth Poem | |

Speak up

When you take a stand and say what you choose,
Without hesitation, or being confused,
Not holding a fear of what others may say,
But to say what you mean in every way,
It liberates your soul, by setting you free,
No longer a prisoner of insecurity,
But a teacher to others who sometimes hold back,
By seeing in you the strength that they lack,
Releases their fears and doubts that they hold,
And helps them now see its ok to speak bold,
Just do it with dignity, kindness and love,
Give all of your fears to our friends up above,
Don’t compromise yourself to collude with the rest,
Speak truth in your words and remain at your best,
If others don’t like the control that they lack,
Because of your strength to speak truth and talk back,
Let that be their issue, don’t lose who you are,
Keep making that stand and you’re sure to go far.
We all have the right to express our beliefs,
Our ideas, opinions, happiness and grief,
But we must allow others to do just the same,
Respect them and their wishes without drama and pain.
To allow them to shame you or belittle your voice,
Says “its ok I don’t mind” like you don’t have a choice,
And the more you keep quiet, the more they control,
Giving up who YOU are so that THEY can feel whole.
It just doesn’t make sense to allow this to be,
I'm no better then you, but your no better then me.
So keep trying hard to find that strength deep within,
And Let old habits go, so new ones can begin.
 

Details | Truth Poem | |

Every Seed Grows

In this field of plantation; 
Where I walk and plant various 
parts of myself around this 
world; 
I sometimes look back and notice 
the trail; 
I recognize the lettuce of charity
I’ve grown constantly through the 
years, 
the tomatoes of kindness which 
resonates red to the world, 
For as the blood flows within my 
temple, 
Kindness will always be found 
here; 
Also my celery of respect remains 
long, 
And continues growing as much as I 
do; 
And yet for all these positive elements 
I’ve learned to express to my 
environment; 
Occasionally I plant a bad seed which 
poison’s the essence of my entire
being; 
And for that, I apologize. 

Although a perfectionist in small doses I 
am not perfect, 
And as a result my garden of Eden
contains more infamous fruit then I 
would want, 
Stemming from lack of growth in my 
maturity plant; 
While a few of any negative offspring 
have cultivated, 
None have been more consistent in growth 
than my deception seed.

Unfortunately as I’ve grown into 
adulthood, 
So has my subconscious lying, 
Sadly after a while you don’t even 
realize that it still sleeps in your 
field, 
And as a human constantly harvesting 
you learn to accept it; 
However evolution never grows 
old, 
And even a perfect saint contains a 
lifetime of imperfect downfalls, 
So while I’m familiar with deception, 
It is those virtuous seeds that grow 
within me, 
That are parallel with my height 
and with that, I’m content.  

God never asked for our field to be 
perfect, 
But to show progression, 
So that it could display many of lives 
lessons, 
And as my life continues adding up, 
I can promise the world that my 
dark seeds subtract simultaneously; 
But yet I understand we’re all human, 
And we must reap what we 
sow, 
Therefore I’m hoping that my seeds of 
empowerment in the form of black eyed 
peas, fall into my neighbors field, 
Thereby enriching their lives for yet another 
season. 

Details | Truth Poem | |

Three Pills

If there were a pill of life so one never had to die
And you could live forever with an infinite lifespan
Would it ameliorate our problems or would they multiply?
Would justice, truth and kindness be the heritage of Man?
Swift told of the Immortals, on the island of Luggnagg
Who never passed away it's true, but got older all the time
Men became a senile husk, and women a shrunken hag
Deaf and blind, but breathing, forever unaware as slime
Ambrosia rendered youth eternal for ancient Grecian gods
But also youthful passions of jealousy and hate
Prideful, vengeful, unfaithful, epitomes of selfish clods
Endless war and endless boredom was to be their endless fate
There is a season for all things, that perhaps we should obey
But if there were a pill of life, it'd be hard to toss away

If there were a pill of power that one could somehow buy
To control the lives of others in the course of one's lifespan
Would it ameliorate our problems or would they multiply?
Would justice, truth and kindness be the heritage of Man?
It's said that Alexander made a bargain with the gods
A shorter life of glory instead of long obscurity
History says he realized his ambition by all odds
Leaping fortune's highest flames and spurning surety
But when fulfilling your potential and to realize your dreams
You must conquer all around you and bend them to your will
The world would endure another of its despotical regimes
And of Caesars, kings and despots, the world has had its fill
For in any dealings Faustian, the devil always gets his pay
Yet for some people in this world, it'd be hard to toss away

If there were a  pill of wisdom upon which one could rely
To give one deep understanding within one's own lifespan
Would it ameliorate our problems or would they multiply?
Would justice, truth and kindness be the heritage of Man?
The Lord appeared to Solomon in a vivid dream by night
"Ask! What shall I give you? Choose what you desire."
"Oh Lord, grant me understanding, that I may discern the light
Of justice, truth, and kindness. It's to that which I aspire."
"Oh Solomon, I have now made you an understanding king
Keep my statutes and commandments and walk honest in my ways
And more, because it pleases me you asked me for this thing
Wealth and honor shall be yours and I will amplify your days"
If there were a pill of wisdom that we could take without delay
Perhaps we could be wise enough for the other pills some day

February 13, 2013

Details | Truth Poem | |

The Truth Room

Come with me my Brother,
to a secret place where Light and Shadow line the face with fear and grace,
leave sophmoric style, wry smile and sly bile on the road of your forgotten mile,
sick sarcasm is the symptom of envy, a pet to your heart destroyer,
such artifice and malice have no language in this room of roasted dreams,

Enter through the damaged door, touch the destruction of vandals,
you have never been here before, where gold blood cuts the floor,
do you see how the walls move like squalls at our approach,
feel how they tell stories with the sensations of defeat, anxiety, impropriety,
in here we witness a collection of seperate yet synthesized segments of Self,
childhood torment, shallow manhood, virility limp as stolen victory,
underachievement, the underbelly of your arrogance, flacid like placid passion,

We journey further into this gallery of emotional gallows
smelt by the hurt of innumerable adavances
repelled by the demands of Quality,
you will writhe wildly
from the harrowing healing leeching into your concepts of self control,
graceful in absorbtion of Truth's attrition,
fruitless ambition shall now cling as cleaving contrition,
your face Brother, look long into the shimmer of sorrow become the old,
tattooed you are like a snake's skin checkered and beautiful
with scaled episodes of submission and aggression, dying to be Divine,
I want you to know that there is no exit of ease from this place Brother,
we trek within your very Soul,
this is the home and harbor of everything you've decided to be,
there are other rooms here, some of joy and some of strife,
but you leave not the Truth Room of your anger
until the Light finds no fault in your intention -

J.A.B.

Details | Truth Poem | |

Sometimes

Sometimes I am happy, sometimes I am sad.
Sometime I sing, sometimes I stammer

Sometimes I dance on the music of my soul, Sometimes I dance on the fingers of 
one single person
Sometimes I expect so much from others; sometime I myself can’t meet my own 
expectations.

Sometime I make fun of others and feel bad later, sometimes life makes fun of me 
and I smile
Sometime I win and sometimes I lose, sometimes I don’t even understand whether I 
won or lost.
 
Sometimes I laugh as if whole world is with me,
Sometimes I cry as if I am alone wandering in a strange land

Sometimes I give up so easily
Sometimes I work so hard that no one can stop me to achieve what I want

Sometimes I am dynamic person, who wants to change the world,
And sometimes I am a kid who expects anyone to embrace him tightly.

Sometimes I feel happy about the achievement of my enemy
Sometime I feel dejected with my own success.

Sometimes I help others and show them the right path
Sometimes I feel totally helpless and don’t know where to go

Sometimes I ask god to please give my past back
Sometimes I pray to show me the way forward


Life is composed of SOMETIMES and I just flow with that.
U admit or not but you are also sailing on the same boat.
So join me and enjoy it EVERYTIME as SOMETIMES life is very short!

Details | Truth Poem | |

I Need Time to Heal

Tell me why, but tell me True-
Spare me the heartbreak of a Lie
I would lay forever in these meadows...
Forever, until I die!
To rid myself of all the Pain,
And the Sorrows of what I feel
To ease my Mind, my worried Brain
(Lord! The Cuts! I need to heal)

*Referring to my problems with "Borderline Personality Disorder"; many of us are "cutters"

Details | Truth Poem | |

Love is a Lie

Love is a Lie by Poets contrived,
Since Dawn of Speech, and birth of Cry
The Will to Live- to take or give-
Oh, please, God! Just tell me why!

Of all the things I do deplore:
It is my Pain I most adore
With Danger flirt while courting Hurt-
But I keep going back for more!

I am Old yet barely grown-
(The truest Truth I've ever known!)
I cannot help- shan't save myself-
For Hearts hath Minds of their own...

JustThatArchaicPoet

I entered this piece in the "Love and Loss" contest which was judged on 1-25-14. I posted this poem to The Soup on Nov. 20th of 2013. It's one of my favorite pieces so I was disappointed not to place. Hope you enjoy, Nette :)

Details | Truth Poem | |

It's Okay

It’s okay to leave the dishes in the sink,
to wash your hands with sanitizer instead of soap.
Your mother will joke
about how it doesn’t get your hands clean enough
but when was the last time you listened to her anyway.
It’s okay to cry today,
to use your sleeve instead of tissues.
It’s okay to take that thing that hurt you
and throw it out of the moving car,
just don’t go back to pick it up,
it’s not lost luggage,
it’s buried tumors.
It’s okay to hate God today,
to change his name to yours,
to grab the headstone with your mitten covered hands
and try to knock it over.
Throw the snow at it,
the roses have died.
It has been too long since the passing,
but I give you permission to hate God today.
It’s okay to break into the liquor cabinet
and medicate peacefully,
to drink too much sometimes
and not know where you’ve been
because you’ll eventually find yourself.
It’s okay to walk alone sometimes,
sort your thoughts,
to clear the air with air,
and dry the wounds with salt.
It’s okay to climb into bed early
and stare at the ceiling,
to just tell yourself that it’s okay.


Bold lines are taken from the poem Letter From My Heart to My Brain by Rachel McKibbens

Details | Truth Poem | |

Lines Written Of A Recurring Ponder

You may not know this,
But sometimes, I sneak 
away from my cynicism,
and see through my vehement
in self loathing, to uncover
the tender optimism of 
my former self, reminiscing
of elated memories, that I
over time, forgot belonged to me,

As I see us, my mind captures the
image, in hopes of warming my 
essence, but the thought of
holding this picture, is inferior
to the risk of learning to smile again,
To smile and relish in a moment
that cannot be willed into reality,
despite the sincerity of a heart's desire,

Secretly, the vision of your beauty
belonging to me, releases melted
fragments of my heart through my 
eyes, I shamefully wipe away such
signs of sorrow, and tell myself you
were "just a girl" but all of me
knows better, for the truth of your
importance is a factor unimaginable,

I cannot tell you that you were the
best of me, created out of prayer,
and wished into reality, or that my
eyes still remain closed until yours
sees sunlight, or that it was your
love alone, which gave me hope,
taught me faith, and filled my being
with the invincibility of a deity,

Such delicate confessions should
remain silent to your ears, and ears
of the world, for within them lies
the truth of a sorrow unseen by humanity,
and the power to allow this elation to
again grant me immortality, an everlasting
life in which I could only agonize over
a paradise unreachable, and the fruitless
fantasy of a raisin in the sun,

Details | Truth Poem | |

MY VILLANELLE

I want to learn to live before I die
To glimpse the light that makes my vision clear
To see the truth that lies within the lie.

I freely put the questions ‘how?’ and ‘why?’
And seek the face unknown in darkest fear.
I want to learn to live before I die.

The days and years stream swiftly swiftly by
In shimmering illusions cherished dear
Despite the truth that lies within the lie.

I found my hand in yours, so you and I
Gave each our vows, impassioned, young, sincere.
I want to learn to live before I die.

The teachers teach, the prophets prophesy
But miss the mystic rhythms of the sphere
Nor see the truth that lies within the lie;

Pure-hearted self; I sense a higher cry
To never leave the far yet love the near.
I want to learn to live before I die
To see the truth that lies within the lie.


– Harley White

(March – 1994)

Details | Truth Poem | |

Lie, Truth, & Reality

I walk above all pain
            risen and relentless 
                       floating on borrowed air oblivious
This heart is impervious fortress, like stonewall embattlements
...that lie is twisted around every bitter past and hollow present

Meandering useless, wander and watch
Romances ebbing, flowing, flying, crashing...dead
Envy circles about my head
longer away, further removed...and lonely

This heart is porous Swiss, like wine-tasting afterthoughts
...that truth is a hulking shadow looming disproportionate
     engulfing any new light on unseen horizons

Only wishing she might see and understand
My hot and cold passion platters served accordingly
 apprehensive only in love's pursuits
   timid like bullied school children cowering in corners
Brash and outspoken otherwise...shackled when it may matter

This heart is neglected farmland, like wartorn meadows
...that reality inhibits every bright angle of my soul
     suffocating the man you would love...if you knew


Details | Truth Poem | |

Time -part 1-

Tragedy is never a sentiment for Time For it is a phenomenon she merely sees She pours forth abundance for all that behold her Even for those of us that scold her And for naught she was cursed from the beginning There she is—interminable Time at the fullest! And we all envy her ever-ringing constancy She rules over our hearts Keeping stress in our spirits Not once does she feel sorry for us Nor is she indifferent of our failures She begs not for gratefulness And accepts who she is with joy! How ample we would be if we Like she—were free of trepidation If only we be like her waters—clear and visible from top to bottom Filled with untainted approval What fools we must seem to such a pure jewel as Time But ah, she is both heartless and kind And though we hate her peculiar aura Oh how hard it is do tear her from our minds! How stressfully beautiful Time is! Like a wink of venerated bliss She smiles and smiles And our ironical faces feel like grime Still she laughs in mirth While the world becomes a ball of putrid hatred Wanting more and more of her And positively hating her We that cannot see her began to hate For we are as visible and low as can be And we acknowledge her merely to insult her Though she takes no pang to the chest For the only gifts we give in return for herself are pangs That she simply returns to each sender Hidden is our pride But ever placed Ever unhidden Is our inscrutable mortality And this humiliation of our unchangeable fates Makes us want to humiliate the more fortunate Thus we regard her only as a concept As a fraction of a belief—a bellowing ideal For of course Time cannot in our honey-glazed eyes Think, eat, drink or feel We use her—yes! Even abuse her Not once will she complain For her gift is everlastingness