You have my soul, but you have your fate
Whatever your words, I’m willing to take
You have my word; I’ll give you my breath
It’s like a chain that would never be break
You are my love with all my heart,
I’ll fight for you with all my might.
And in the way, you admire your goals,
You hold my hands, but not so close.
As you go to your chosen path,
I’ll accept the fact that we will be apart.
In the dark side, I leave behind
Within my faith, that you’ll arise
Please don’t look back, coz I’m fighting still
I’m hurting so much! Don’t want to have you near
I accept my fate for what it does,
I’m bleeding so much, do you know for whom it was?
You reach your goals, as you want to have,
Would you remind the man that gave what he had?
As you reach the stars, and be the one
Be a sun that shines its own.
After the rain, the rainbow comes,
Like dark in the moon, when the light flash
A glimpse from you at least a short
For then I knew my pain is worth.
Copyright © Emmanuel Fajutagana | Year Posted 2013
Who's that staring through my window walls, with eyes as old as time
the clock has not yet moved and the wind outside has died
no breath for me to find nor the strength to check the time
unless the minute hand is lying theirs a chance i may have died
I wish this all a dream but the eyes i see dont lie, they have told me with their watching that all men do really cry
yet in vain is all my wishing but perhaps this is delusion of a sedimentary man with his mind ripe for losing
Come at me then red devil, I shout within my mind yet the tension I had hoped for was delayed and rather dry
no ravishingly velvet flame encircled this such room, nor were the furniture and ottoman thrown like an old shoe
marvelous the time in which a demon throwns your home and his only one intent is to stare right through your soul
to that i bid goodnight to you, to do as you wish, regardless of the manner I am nothing more then fish. to be shot out of a barrel for a fellow such as this
If you do deem it fit that I wake another morning all i ask is that the clocks all please return to working order
Copyright © chriss todd | Year Posted 2013
I was born in a world of poverty and soiled life of a third world country
The way I lived till I was five years of age was walls of boundary
These walls had towers of guards that had no heart or care
If a child would try to climb the wall they lose their life I swear
Father had drank and threatened my mother with a knife
My father lost his job and wife and that was the hardship of life
He stopped my mother from taking off with me in her arm
Hoping that my father would ignore and left me be with no harm
When my father went off to drink one night and came home with rage
My brothers stood by my crib and took a beating that set up the next stage
My father had woken up to three scared children half starved and in pain
His final words as he walk away from the orphanage gate live life do not go insane
I was still a baby in the orphanage; the caretakers did not really care about the babies
They stole items and materials those wicked men and maternal evil ladies
They starved all the babies because it cost a lot to keep them alive
As a child of that age I could feel the sins and greed that gave out bad vibes
I was ignorant about what I drank and ate, as I see white maggots move in my bottle
As I see them move I thought about how they were playing and some were hostel
They ate each other to keep each other alive in a manner that took me by surprise
In the back round I hear others throwing things with sounds of painful cries
I got very strong at a young age I was able to start pulling myself up over the cage
My feelings were to see my brothers with strong lungs that I cried out of rage
My two brothers came to see me and sneak food into my crib
The caretaker would find the food in my hands as they grabbed it and hit me on my ribs
As painful as it was I kept eating the food with blood in my mouth as it was instinct
I sometimes laid in my crib dazed and confused with smell of death so distinct
With all my might I kept myself strong and climb the small wall
I finally was old enough to get out of the building and I could hear my brothers call
With tears of joy with short legs that ran as fast as my heart
I ran to my brothers arms and held their hands to have a new start
I grew stronger everyday but more things came into my life in a manner of dismay
If my brothers stay by my side I could smile and everyday their would be okay
Copyright © Reynaldo Mast | Year Posted 2013
I wake up with another tear
for I have again, relived the nightmare
will it ever leave me with any way to see
when will I again be able to see my family
the past is forgiven
so why is it still living
my heart was so broken
but soon after it was frozen
let it lie and the past die
for I have a life to live with
but the past is still being relived
how do I stop this past of torture
so I can find my new future
Copyright © Denise Hopkins | Year Posted 2013
Your words are like stones
Whether skipped or thrown
They fly alone
Bruising and breaking deeper than bones
Yet pain from these stones will never be shown.
Whether near or far
She'll faithfully wait
Till the unknown date
When those stones are kind and lost of hate
You make mistakes
Yes she can relate
But what if the pain becomes to great
Whe the kindness comes too late
Such small pieces of her heart
whats left to make
She gave to much
Now there's none to take
Just one everlasting ache
That your stones did create
They say you can never retake
A women's heart once it breaks
So next time withhold the quake
Your stones with take
And keep this lesson
As a dear keepsake.
<3 Kalee Lynn
Copyright © Kalee Robertson | Year Posted 2013
and Vestigial Conscience
The sun overshadowing my morality
my self- righteousness eclipsed
Where early mans' dawn is,
Our sun over my left *should* threaten to tinge me if
I pontificate platitudes that fail to connect us to
full stomachs for our children, solid comfort during our elders’ aging and respite needs
That McChrystal was sacrificed at the altar
the way Abraham (*pause) to show faith
O yea, my ancient ancestors from Ireland
Maybe they had roots in Celtic lore
Heralding Beowulf’s heroics
And maybe they had someone in some way connected to
various seafaring warring factions!
Tyranny and takeover spark hatred
blinding rage, like
action- oriented swarming killer bees~
Vestigial, then, is it - our
Weeping flows, but flash floods cannot compare,
and the burn of fury that hot lava
NO! of liquid molten, from the deepest depths of Earth's core -
even that cannot compare
to the condemnation
my foe must assume.
With this pen I secure my conduit to the divine,
My unpretentious foothold here from my pedestal,
My spears are fueled
Ghosts of pharaohs
Branded timeless in stone
Condemning the vilified,
as it is published by
The Royal Geographical Society:
Syria as the Gateway between East and West
The Geographical Journal
Vol. 107, No. 5/6 (May - Jun., 1946), pp. 179-190)
And why shouldn’t this be so?
Beowulf, an earliest epic
Of Old English
How proud and agile to be able
To confer your legacy in written format
Onto your generations and incursions ~
Daughters of the American Revolution,
weren't you early colonists settling in Maryland?
Wasn't The Crown's high noon tea wrought with hypocrisy?
I was wrong when I supposed
McCongress ordered striking the King's son
off the Dollar Menu, To Go,
when they showed up at the
Morocco & France have tensions
today that sprouted around this very topic, you know.
Everyone has to pay attention to who the special children are,
from the special castes - it is written and taught in
children's international fairytales
written by nations collectively-
cultures present their insides
in their telling of morals embellished
inside gripping tales
to their children,
use of cultural symbols and
delectable terms, the signs all
lead directly to the diaper room.
But for this poet, it was the Irish potato famine
forbidding entry into libertine culture.
Copyright © Jen Franks | Year Posted 2013
Love is one of life's greatest mysteries
It is the driving force
which shapes man's destiny
It is the very foundation
upon which life itself is built
Love is a way of life
One cannot detach oneself from Love
to make a decision
for Love is life itself
Throughout the ages
the power of Love
has gripped the hearts of men
- mighty men who feared nothing
and made them powerless
to resist its spell
Kingdoms rose and fell
Armies laid others waste
and were laid waste by others
Men died in agony at the command
of a Love-infected leader
Paris and Helen of Troy
in the Trojan war
Samson and Delilah
in the battle with the Philistines
Anthony and Cleopatra
in the Roman Civil War
Love is a potent force
that sometimes makes fools
of Earth's mighty men of valour
And yet this same Love
has been an instrument of good
with which nothing can compare
There are many kinds of love -
a man for his God
a man for his woman
a friend for his friend
a person for his kin
a man for his dog
- these and many more
Though the particular cases differ
the effect of Love is the same
- that feeling which inspires and drives men
to achieve things
they once believed impossible
Many a knight fought great odds
and won for his lady
Many a man leaves his comfortable niche
and goes out to endure
the hardship and pain
of the less fortunate
as he gives of himself unselfishly
to improve their state
because of his love for
his God, duty and ideals
History is filled with leaders
who tried to build
and maintain an empire
with the might of brute force
and failed -
Alexander The Great
a humble carpenter of Nazareth
who shunned brute force
built an empire on Love
two thousand years ago
and today it covers
the face of the earth
Copyright © john beharry | Year Posted 2013
You're my nightingale, singing after dark
with an emptiness that still tears me apart
In the lonesome woods, on a gentle breeze
I can hear your voice calling out for me
Though the lament that you sing
won't redeem my broken wing
'cause I can feel the shadow of death closing in
Nightingale, please don't mourn for me
Those cold and evil men, they set an awful snare
just to capture you with my own despair
I am the poisoned bate on their jagged lure
Better hush my love, don't you play the fool
No, the lament that you sing
won't redeem my broken wing
'cause I can feel the shadow of death closing in
Nightingale, please don't mourn for me
Such wicked plans they had made
before their last false hand was played
assuming they'd still be around
but now I am taking them all down
Hush now my nightingale
Copyright © Ryan Lucas | Year Posted 2015
Maiming, killing, chaos, happening throughout this nation, happenings everyday.
Saw an article in the newspaper about the City of Detroit. A killing frequently just another day.
Now as Christians we should realize and know that violence breeds violence.
So what do we do? We arm our educators so we can protect our children our innocents.
More people this year have been killed in Detroit than in the Afghan war.
Right here in the U.S.A. violence is leaving a tremendous scar.
Our children being taught through the airways, video games, that same sex marriage is OK’
Our Television media explodes when violence is shown; our moral compass is in disarray.
This goes back along time our nation is a relatively young nation compared to the Vatican and the Pope.
Yet since our very Foundation we are supposedly a nation that believe in God, Christian today think that this is a travesty a joke.
We lead in exporting smut triple x rated films nasty movies that turn up everywhere we are being misled.
The devil, his legions, control the airways they have crept into our culture, our families, our moral compass is dead.
As Christians we should pray in repentance, turn to God’s Commandments, and trust our Father.
Trusting corrupted leaders, trusting in man, is not the way in history it has never worked, this is what I’ve gathered.
Detroit a city gripped with terror, fear, a city where our children die in crossfire.
This is a national concern a must change policy towards children, to see them gunned down the situation is dire.
The four horsemen have been riding for a long time.
Ignoring the “Word” Ignoring the Father is truly the real crime.
We do ourselves no justice, with our free will we as Christians must trust in our Savior and the Lord.
Asking God to guide “Us,” in electing officials that have the courage to say enough, let’s go to God and His Son for help. Let’s truly as nation follow the “Word.”
Copyright © Robert Ball | Year Posted 2013
To whit to be caught between two brothers
and become the sport of many others
She kept her heart from loving true
but not from the damage passing through
Oh twice spent the beauties coin
did deliberate vengence to purloin
thought knowingly did enter door
in spite she cast them to the floor
Though twas for couple it's own collusion
the device and trap it's own illusion
the crimes waylaid doth carry to the grave
to curse ones soul as fearful and not brave
Twas the story carried in her mind
her face to others she wished were blind
and with ones sight to look upon her heart
to know in violence was her start
She thought those sins would ever last
or to shake the paths of her past
in her fears her heart down cast
she did not know to forgiveness ask
Unable to differentiate between love and need
or if womans desire was only greed
If man looks upon her with his smile
is he looking for love or just another trial
She asks those questions to this day
must there be violence to graveyard pay
for many men have forced their way
in their behavior did have no say
COPYRIGHT © 2009 C Michael Miller
via Duboff Law Group LLC
Copyright © Poetryof Providence | Year Posted 2012
By Michael Williams
It seems wherever I end up going,
everything is hidden, nothing showing.
No one sees, no one knows,
just how this story goes.
Not a care, not a worry,
everyone is in such a hurry.
Too busy to stop, too busy to see,
what has become of me.
Self-hatred and denial are my tools,
no one knows me, they are fools.
Deceiving them all is my game,
I do this and feel no shame.
Filling all my lustful needs,
sewing and planting my deviant seeds
caring not about the shame,
just causing extensive pain.
What is this I think I see?
It’s the Lord, looking down at me.
The look I see in his eye,
is enough to make me cry.
Ashamed of who I’ve become,
of who I’ve hurt, and what I’ve done.
I don’t like who I am,
I don’t feel like much of a man.
Help me Lord, hear my plea,
I can’t stand what has become of me.
I’m tired of the sorrow; I’m tired of the shame,
I’m tired of this hurtful game.
Help me Lord, for I can see,
there is nothing you won’t do for me.
Give me the chance to start again,
I know I can live free from sin!
Copyright © Michael Williams | Year Posted 2014
A man acquainted with sorrows and grief
be it then was bruised for our relief
the ones ruling over them kept them in pain
but struck was he so we might Life regain
All like sheep have wandered astray
but he announced to the crowds Gods new day
no violence could be found in his actions done
he spoke of peace in the kingdom to come
He fed the hungry and gave to the poor
tender of heart and kind to his core
oppressed was he and sore afflicted
falsely accused by traditionalists indicted
A quiet man who spoke of verity
taught of loving kindness and mercies charity
the man he was did the broken draw
in every point did he fulfill Gods Law
The works of his hands righteous and clean
his judgment was pure and never mean
a candle whose light has dispelled the dark
his praise for his Father did all his works mark
Jehovah pronounced this the Son he approved
to him was beloved and the World reproved
no harm could be found in his heart or hand
those who follow him will the same stance stand
He sought not mens praise or their vainglory
yet acquired Gods love but by man treated poorly
unlike the kings who Lord over their kin
washed the feet of disciples those lower than him
Did demonstrate he how to walk Truths Way
by example showed traits his disciples display
with accurate judgment in all that he did
to become like him to his disciples he bid
We are not worthy of God to approve
if we do not from our lives violence remove
those who hate and practice manslaughter
cannot become his Son or his daughter
To become like him the Truth you must drink
it must cleanse from you what the world think
upon his teaching consume as your bread
without his life in you , you are still dead..
sources Ps 18 , Is 53 and the gospels
COPYRIGHT © 2010 C Michael Miller
Copyright © Poetryof Providence | Year Posted 2011
In matters of importance & civility,
Guard your hearts out of respect with & humility
There is arise in a delicate strength in numbers & so it may seem
Workplace violence is also determined by levels of deterance;
For the heart is deceitful above all else so who can know it,
One must become attentive toward all forms of posted protocol initiatives
To profile who fits the person in question fits a certain criteria
A brief moment in silence toward any harmless brevity
One must look intently into everyone in our society;
Mark the man who would be willing in which to explore
Justifiaction as an easy ploy?
What would life be like without its protection?
A quest for reason amidst desire;
Let us take a deeper look into this equation
We must strive to learn each day
With matters of detering & detecting our nations borders
In retrospect, with the service that should be implemented;
Each facility must be fully trained in equipping their workers
To become the best one must learn to achieve with quality excellence
In matters of strict enforcement it is of extreme importance
To form an essential delegation & communication
One must never sit still nor lightly negate their responsibility
Those foundational fundamentals that far too
It is important to remember that plans must be implemented to become effective
Security should move to accomadate all party's that are involved
Never to relent nor give into any false compromise system nor structure of thought
Workplace violence prevention should be resolved with the utmost respect & dignity
Throughout the vast expanse in time,
Commuication has been the essential fore runner toward this success...
One must virtual deter & report matters of security;
Since the days previously to the onset of the tragedy that had occured with the events
Immersion in a culture that promotes constant development should be the chief aim.
Copyright © Mario Vitale | Year Posted 2012