**Back smile/smile Back **
With your heads way up your :]ssa[:
You will never accomplish the win
I got shots that will protect me from your rabid ways
After you fell into a non-stop falling disease,
Your movements weakened
Straight from a dried up well,
Every day you frolic in a disorder that causes more brain damage
With progressive mental retardation
You continue to lick the top of your cleft lips
He is the saddest sadist human that ever lived!
So sad he has to live with himself every night
Kissing his young ones Goodnight
In ways I can't even breathe to tell
The way he follows rabbits down the bunny hole
Killing each laughing hare
Wiping smiles, leaning in,
The madness in Alice's Wonderland
Madder and Madder The Hatter
Your boldness is nothing more than baldness
A man in a monkey suit
Molesting the minds of his idiotic circle,
Trying to kill the joy, not knowing
We don't care about his false Harvard WAY
I rather stay here dropping out, than pretending
Following his made-up perception, a cropped out waste
His taste, my best copypaste, he jacked on
A stench, they left behind when open mouths laugh
He educates by attacking women better than his own
Silently to the top of his knife, he stalks nakedly
Removing a few poems he plagiarized
His Poorness, brought many to donate to the salvation of his army
Sadness Delivered by the Joy Killing Poet and his little pigs
Cross My heart and hope to die!!!
Copyright © SKAT A | Year Posted 2014
The Deepest Depths Of Epic Pain
The scars of life unveil the weight of lies,
lest it be the torment of moral sin,
wherein the guiltless suffer wounds and cries
of love’s deceit as heartless notions win.
The evil whims of wicked fancy shows
no mercy for those crossed by hands of fate
when magic dreams are cast by darkened clouds
which turns the morbid sorrow into hate.
In rage of fervor, passions zeal is lost,
oft destroyed by life's dire tribulations,
as sunning rays vacates dawn's gleaming frost
human frailties blind truth's revelations.
Within hope destroyed and life's darkest stain
remains the deepest depths of epic pain.
T.J Grén & Robert Lindley
Note: Has been an honor and great pleasure for me to co-write this sonnet with my very talented friend, T.J Grén.
Thanks for the invitation my friend.. Your generosity and kindness match your poetic talents..
Copyright © Robert Lindley | Year Posted 2017
When I am Colder,Older and then alone...
I will collect the sky on my own...
When the art has faded and the days then fade-
when everyone has gone away...
I may finally see what never was saw
.....ahhhhhhhhhhhhh............... the quiet sky
The unlit room which bares my end...shows the flashes of my pains my joys and sins.
This life has been a strange one since the curtains were drawn
These paper and plastic figures have clouded the dawn
I was once younger,foolish,and obsessed with truth
Now I am bitter,sour,dour faced with my heart under shoe
The children were all searching or lost in a crowd
All weeds in a garden...growing vile and foul
Though beauty was sold it never came true
Obsessions and vanity have traveled safe through
Materials and poison and everything lost
have been burned in the fires or lost in the frost
I stand face to mirror tearing my being apart
Winding thoughts of love,pain,god,and art
As the sun sets and the darkness grows
I too shall follow this pattern in tow
Death has a friendly hand and a pretty face
She has given me comfort as I leave this place
The wars have occurred,humanity's lost
Souls have been burnt in the fire or lost in the frost
Day was Life,Night is Death
And the latter has given counsel on my final steps
Copyright © Winter Wallace | Year Posted 2009
You knew you were going to die. 1
And yet you came, thinking no matter how insane,
the man on the seat of power would never want you dead
… it would be too much on his head.
And so you came, and there in the brightness of the day
they took your life away, on the tarmac… in broad daylight. 2
I was too young to fully understand, and yet I cried -
The greatest leader we never had, the greatest leader we needed to have … died.
August 21, 1983 was a day of ignominy.
The nation suffered from shamed infamy;
Too many people, not just one witness,
yet not anyone saw, everyone was witless.
The world mocked our country of too little people.
Seemed all we could do was pray on the steeple,
we were hopeless, hopeless…helpless…
Quo vadis, Filipino?
The tide of justice was slow in turning,
even though on the streets, one felt intense mourning.
Peace loving people were silently seething,
faithful and compliant, yet inwardly…defiant.
Seventeen years seemed still not enough,
the man on the throne just couldn’t give up;
With close-knit advisers, and media sanitizers -
If one contradicts, he sees the gunpoint…with silencers.
What must have you felt the days after you left?
Did you think we were too blind, too mute and deaf?
Took almost three years for us, to finally get our act
I guess we were too set in our ways, too afraid…to react.
What the man in power and his cronies up the tower.
must not have considered… are the new movers and shakers.
There was only so much we could take…
There was only so much we could tolerate…
February 25, 1986 was the day we started to fix 3
the road of our shamed history.
It was the day People Power came to be
the man in power was kicked out from tower
as ordinary citizens , nuns and everyone
faced his armed men aboard the tanks.
People unarmed, just some bottled water,
a few sandwiches and bunches of flowers.
It was the day we looked up the sky,
offered a fervent gratitude to heaven’s door -
and told Ninoy…thank you for believing
“The Filipino is worth dying for”. 4
1. Benigno "Ninoy" Aquino, Jr., then senator and leading opposition leader (to Pres. Ferdinand Marcos, Philippine dictator who was in power 1965-1986) was advised by the First Lady not to come back from 3-year exile in the USA, as there was a plot to assassinate him. As to whose plot, it was not clarified.
2. Manila International Airport, right after he went out of the airplane. Media took photos from the window.
3. There was so much social unrest, and Cardinal Sin, through the radio and other respected media men, finally appealed to all people to go out and stage a massive peaceful protest with people making human barricade against the tanks in EDSA Avenue, Metro Manila's main thoroughfare. No one was killed. Ninoy's wife Cory Aquino who won the election, took the oath of office. The People Power Revolution, the first of its kind, in the Philippines and in the world, was eventually copied by France and other countries.
4. Ninoy Aquino, in an interview a few minutes before he left the plane to his death.
31 July 2015
Copyright © KP Nunez | Year Posted 2015
A void of Facebook
Creativity dies here...
Copyright © Dan Keir | Year Posted 2013
hospitality, peace and mutual respect; we’ve chosen
because the key to our prosperity is love, unity and cooperation
settlers now on the cheat as our true identity is kept frozen
but no matter what! We will reverse it with our landmark ordination
the threats against our heritage and culture may have risen
it has kept us unique, unshakable and uncompromising
though there are bastard judases in every dozen
the failure and exposure of their deeds are amusing
the buckles of our identity we will never loosen
no matter how the invader tries strategizing
or putting our inheritance into some sort of categorizing
No! is the answer, none of us will lose being a complete citizen
Copyright © Funom Makama | Year Posted 2015
a collaborative work with Alfred Vassalo
The Stars sparkled in her eyes
As light interlaced with her shadow
Causing her to question her senses
Even though she closed her eyes
light continued to seep out
Her brilliance, competed with the sun blazing in the sky
the evening was no longer sheltered by protective darkness
Everything turned backwards in a distortion of time
as she disembarked on yesterday's tomorrow
Dum di dum, dum di dum, dum di dum
The world traveled like an efficient train
From noon to morn, from night to noon
Slower and slower, emphasizing quickened pleasure!
Time was thought to be an unstoppable train
With shrieking tracks disturbing the ears
there was no one able to disembark
Theirs was a one way ticket stamped with fear
as the conductor grinned with maniacal eyes and yellowed teeth
When one is lonely one must say so
Why did she run away in damned fright??
Is it because she can no longer find refuge in darkness?
She is the breaking of day, the desolation night!
They close their eyes for a while
To shield extraordinary sights
everything is a toast to indulgence
Even through closed eyes, she brings them a festival of lights.
They try blocking their ears for a while
To shield all the unbelievable sounds
Laughing, chanting and crys for help
All of the whispering that remains out of bounds.
They wait within their silence for a while
Anticipating that she may speak the lonely truth
Silence stabs with its golden blade
Her light bequesting a fountain of youth.
Voom, voom, Voom voom, Voom voom,
Her carriage moves backwards without stopping
Heart slowing to an imperceptible beat
Twisted limbs lay tired and flopping.
The moon is full, they think, it is howling
She stands kneeling awaiting the earliness of peace
Hoping it’s not far, for her life is crumbling
They hear the tock ticking of the interfering timepiece.
She sleeps soundly and awakes to total love
Feeling the air entering deeply into her lungs
The time of doubt evaporates with her tears
For now she speaks in tongues.
"My freedom has been formed in a wreath of black roses"
The "fly people" gather around investigating the air
They are completely fulfilled with her great and reasonable care.
Blank eyes stare at pictures of a convulsing world
Seeing the mourning sun and the blood red moon
She feels the fire dripping from her eyes and hears their crying
All emotions so vivid come in a time most inopportune.
Published books tells of many stories and facts
Yet who can comprehend paragraphs that don't make sense
Words can't understand the monogamy of hopeful lovers
Squeak....squeak....squeak....as they copulate on an ancient bed!
Heaven cannot be witnessed from the deepest pit of hell
An intrepid life as it is, seemed boring in captivity
Her long awaited heaven has gone moved to another place
While hell came rushing in, handing her a time of insensitivity.
They heard the beasts of burden, heavily loaded in their disgrace
The race horses whipped rapidly to win the race
She came last behind all those who were forgotten without a trace......
Freddie's poem captured my imagination and with his permission,
I have interlaced his words and ideas with my own. Check out his original poem
it is titled "Out of Sight - Hard of Hearing" I'm sure he would appreciate your visit
I have listed the first five stanzas to whet your appetite.
Out of sight - Hard of Hearing
No star has sparkled, not in my eyes
It’s glittering with my heart interlace
Although I have never questioned my senses
I’m quite sure it shines brightly in space.
I know the sun blaze in the sky
With my soul also when it’s dark
Nonetheless all in good time
It will blaze my life disembark.
Dum di dum, dum di dum, dum di dum
The world travels as an efficient train
From morn to noon, from noon to night
Faster and faster muting my whispering pain.
I also know the train comes to a halt
With shrieking tracks disturbing the ears
No one is left on board we all must disembark
This is a one way ticket filled with fears.
When one is lonely one must say so
No need to run away in damned fright
A light bulb only shines in darkness
And daybreak proceeds after night.
Copyright © Richard Lamoureux | Year Posted 2015
She crossed a wide ocean, during war times, in danger
A life of adventure, of courage, of fear
Yet, nothing reveals the hint of the years
that have chiseled her wrinkles, but not dampened her cheer
She pours me some tea, we relax in the shade
Cool on the porch of a summertime day
Honeysuckle vines circle the posts,
Spider-webs glisten, hosts offer a toast.
She chatters nonchalantly, so glib on the tongue,
Of a war and the journey that left her alone
To her, all these stories, are quite ordinary,
I cling to each word, but she's here to assure me
A true-life adventure.
Inside the house, the counter is a clutter, piled high with dishes
The old floor is sticky, and dog hair floats in prisms of light
One old hound sleeps in the middle of the worn kitchen rug.
Another lame Labrador laps water from a pie tin,
dripping water from his sloppy face across the peeling checkered floor.
Throughout the house, a lingering musky smell of well loved pets,
and a stale, smoky odor of burnt toast from her attempt at breakfast.
Servants, cooks, gardeners, part of a long ago past.
The house is filled with dust covered, belongings
History fills each corner to mingle, along with the dust motes that linger in air
Junk mail, newspapers, dog treats, documents and clippings
prized antiques and artifacts, ......just facts of life, from how she sees them
On every shelf, and on the walls, are sepia-hued photographs
Famous faces I have seen, on the news, and on the screen
A handsome young man, and she was his bride
A commander when the world took sides
She followed him to the ends of the earth.
And soon will gladly follow him to the grave
I sit here now,...with this woman of many lives.
Like one of the flowers on her porch, she wears a tattered, splattered dress.
Today, she is a homespun, country widow.
An extraordinary woman, this grand Duchess,
yet now who bears traits of Ma Kettle
She brought class, dignity, and a wealth of knowledge
to our small country neighborhood,....... to my life.
Here we are, together, so far from the world she once knew.
We sit in the shade of her covered porch
A long haired, grey cat jumps into her lap.
Under the veil of a summer day
I pour her another cup of tea, and a little more for myself.
Tea is served, flavored with lemon....I have much more to drink in.....to savor.
A True Character....dear /Friend/and Neighbor (Kathleen Maitland) now deceased
Whose husband was an aviation pioneer
The most amazing couple I have ever known
Copyright © Carrie Richards | Year Posted 2014
“Back in my day” his stories all would start
I’d lean in close to listen though I knew ‘em all by heart
He was a living legend, one of Texas’ best
Not just another lawman with a tin star on his chest
He fought along “RIP” Ford & John Coffee Hayes
When Texas was wooly & wild, back in the good old days
“One Riot, One Ranger” I’ve heard it said many times before
from fighting off Commanches to turning the tide of a range war
A Ranger never faltered, never imagined he could lose a fight
He’d go hell bent for leather just to turn a wrong to right.
From Nueces to Salado Creek he patrolled the border land
Dealing out swift justice with a smoking Colt sitting easy in hand
Hardin, Iron Jacket & Sam Bass thought they could get away
The Rangers ran them down to ground, the stories still are told today
Great Granddad was a hero, one of Texas’s best
Not just another lawman with a tin star on his chest
He passed on the legacy & the stories I’ll now tell
as I hear his voice echo when I start off, “ I remember well”
So tip your hat & raise your glass to the Rangers out there on patrol
and to all the Shadow Rangers, Rest in Peace, God rest your soul
Copyright © Catherine Devine | Year Posted 2005
There Are A Thousand Treasures Of Kings
Worth More, Than All The Wealth, There Could Be !
Some Say, It’s In A Kingdom Of Dreams
Others Say, It’s As Real As You & Me
The Legend Says, There’s A Kingdom Of Love
In A Kingdom, Far Away & Above
Kings-Treasures, To Be Claimed By The Best
Those Worthy Of Courage, To Quest
& So, This Is Where I’ll Start, My Friend,
Tho’, This Isn’t Where The Real Tale Begins
You See, There Was A Merry Band Of Adventurers
Who Went On A Quest, As Treasure-Gatherers
There Was Moses, The Freedom-Circle-Rider
Stayed His Course, Like An Eagle-Glider
There Was Goff, The Monk Of Sky and Trees
His Visions Of Life, Were As Open As Doors With Keys
There Was Kendricks, The Keeper Of ‘Interesting’ Tracks
& Marty, Of The Hale & Hearty & Power-Pen Pack
There Was Adell of Deep Wells … & Dio, The Devoted
& Dame Brown Of Mountain-Ground, So Sweetly-Noted
There Was An Irish Lass, O’Leary Of Laughter
& The Golden Daughter Of Grace & Audrey Of Gifted-Banter
& Devonshire, The Dove & Highlander Of Heather-Cove
Of First To Join Search: For Soup & Treasure-Trove
Of Course, We Have A Prince Of Passion Land
& Ismael, A Dream-Merchant From His Own Island
The Prince, Paints Of Pleasures; The Islander Speaks of Treasures
Both Know Of Biggest Royal Cache That We Could Ever Measure !
There Came Tim, The Archer Of The Wit-Forest
& A Determined Mother with Son, The Lady Doris
Maid Adams, Who Teaches How To Keep Cold Away
& The Lightning-Voice Of Linda Marie, Keeps Wolves At-Bay
There Is Sir Lamoureu of Sir Lancelot's Order
He Wields Words In Articulate Axes & Armor
And To Those Who Dare Say Chivalry Is Dead ...
Is Because -The Sonnets of Sir Lamoureu, They Have Not Read
& The Legendary Language That Sir Lamoureu Pledge
Then There's Lady Linda, A Chatelaine & A Poet Destroyer
But She Only Versus The Verses of The Vanity Voyeurers
Her Skill With Quill Accurately Quite Accords
As Proof of Pens Being Mightier Than Swords
We Have A Pretty Elf Known As Anne Lise Andresen
Her Piquant Topics of Poetry Makes Her Our Taliesin
And We Have Our Very Own Kind Maid Merryman
She Transports Adventures Better Than A Ferryman
Part 1 of 2
Copyright © MoonBee Canady | Year Posted 2009
The greatest holiday gift I ever received
Goes back so many, many years
Before my life became turmoiled
And before my tears for fears
I was a child like many out there
Torn, strewn and split of kin
Mother and father in differences
Confused at seven, wearing their same skin
For I was one of the lucky ones
To a Highland Estate I would go
It's on the west coast of Scotland
Where my holidays desired me so
Secretly I internally smiled
For a whisper of where I was heading
To live with a movie star hero
No longer my life was in dreading
We were picked up by a man so fine
His manners were an absolute joy
Regimental he was in his approach
To me, just a seven year old boy
We travelled through the village of Plockton
Crystal clear waters edged to it's shore
I knew from this very moment
Being here ebbed previous family sores
On entering his house I was in awe
Movie pictures came to my view
They were images of James Bond
At seven I was totally through
A voice called to me
Hey James! sit down and I'll tell you me
Still in circles in walking awe
This is what he told thee
My name is Patrick Dalzel Job
In the Second World War I served
But this recognition I bestow
Humbles me to it's deserve
This honour that's been given
Was blessed by a colleague in war
What desired Ian Fleming to be so striven
Possibly, what we were fighting for
We served on the same destroyer
Fighting to make the future free
His tribute, in his novels I became
James Bond, it's incredibly me
Not many seven year olds have stayed with James Bond.
This seven year old Scot's boy has, maybe I learnt?
Copyright © James Fraser | Year Posted 2012
As I sat at my computer, wondering what to do,
A whisper in my ear said, I have a job for you.
Startled I looked around but no-one was there,
I was alone in the still of the night.
I recalled my wife told me of Samuel,
A prophet back in biblical times,
I felt foolish, knowing what I had to do,
I was alone and simply said, God, is that you?
I am who I am the whisper came back,
And I have a job for you
I have looked at your life through your veil of tears,
And have decided just what to do.
Are you God? I asked, hardly daring to breathe,
If so then I've something to say.
Why has my life been so hard to live?
I've struggled right up to this day.
I've been kicked and beaten, left battered and bruised,
Laughed at, spat at, abused and accused.
Each time I have tried to better myself all these years,
It's ended in sorrow, no laughter, just tears.
God, have you seen my distress from the start?
Why didn't you help stop a breaking heart?
I love you much and have never left you alone,
Through your trials and pain I see you have grown.
I have watched and waited for many years,
I have carried you long through your veil of tears,
The strength you have now is through My love,
Protected and guided by Me up above.
Remember the times when life looked so bleak,
Times when death was all you would seek.
No signs for the future, just lay down and die,
Who helped you My son? It was I.
You have asked many times why can't we move on?
Each time we were stopped, to help out someone.
Just when we thought it was safe now to try,
Someone else came along and on us did rely.
There are many I love and will never let down,
So I trained you My son through your years of despair.
When folk needed help, I knew you were there,
Sometimes just a shoulder to show that you care.
You have done many things, the world cares not a jot,
Your faults are forgiven, I remember them not.
When you work for the Lord sometimes you may stumble,
I will not let you fall if you remain humble.
Thank you Father for letting me see,
The wonderful life you have planned for me,
The journey is long, and hard every day,
But through it all I have learned how to pray.
I'll follow You Lord, Your path I will tread,
My future secure, no longer I dread.
No fear for tomorrow, each brand new day,
To help someone else to move on their way.
© Dave Timperley 2012
Copyright © Dave Timperley | Year Posted 2012
There are legends I've heard, old songs in the dark
of the old folklore tales, and the old gypsy trails,
where traveling caravans of rugged old wagons
still echo, with longing, in valleys below...
Where each treasured belonging,
was packed in a hurry
all the stories, all the worry, all the heartache would travel
all the sunshine, and the sorrow, celebrations to marvel
and dreams of tomorrow, were kept on the road....
The trail was a friend, and the loam was their home
Their needs were quite small,
They didn't expect, to be wealthy or rich.
All the riches they had, were scarce and so few...but they knew
that happiness could be the sun on your back, or a sky, wide and blue...
Not much to expect, and not even respect...
would be theirs to be owned.
As the twilight would come, under a red setting sun,
with the fragrance of loam, and the tired walk done...
they would bed under trees where the heather was strewn
they would burn a small fire, and prepare a warm meal,
with smoke in the breeze, while the whippoorwill's song
and accordion tunes, would drift by the face of the moon
On their heels was the dust, in the noontime sun
They rose with the dawn, and the gold of the past,
wearing the colorful hope of tomorrow's new task
Working wherever a meal, and dollar would come
Then moving again with their band until dusk
over, and over and over again...
Some called them tramps, or small petty thieves
But the heart of the matter, was the love of the sun,
the love of the life that came from the moon,
from the stars, and the grass, and the rust of the leaves
For those who encountered, and who gave them a chance
could learn many things by watching them dance,
and learn many things by hearing them sing,
and pay close attention to how much they knew
that fortune is something that comes from inside
It comes with the pride, of knowing what matters
The tattered, lost life of the old gypsy tribes ....
might be the saddest of stories, or loneliest song...
a song that has faded,
that has dwindled and died....
101 in a ROW contest - 12
Sponsored by PD
Copyright © Carrie Richards | Year Posted 2012
I'm very small
I am called Standing Tall
My story to be read as i live through it all.
Our Dakota lands are forest and vast
Where our ancestors have hunted
From long in the past.
Our tribes are, a confederation of seven
With our language of Lakota, Sioux heaven
We stand proud as we remember our past
And look to our gods, to make it all last.
A silhouette on the prairie hill i see
This shape in the distance is new to me
As we sleep in the night, we hear guns and blows
We arise from our camp, to look for the noise
We creep on the prairie to their surprise
Under the moon, where the land would flow
No longer the Buffalo.
We mount our ponies to challenge these men
What gives them this right to kill and maim
Bodies of beasts, furs cut away
Missing heads, a ghastly slay.
On reaching their camp our bows stretched
Arrows screech, hit the wretched
Watch them fall to the prarie floor
Just like the Buffalo did hours before.
Years have passed as we are moved from our lands
These poisonous men, and their poisonous glands
Bringing illness fever and strife
Ending many a Lakota life.
We reach a point in History
Which made the white man sit up and see
Their Golden Child General George Custer
And the Little Big Horn, my what a disaster.
Arapaho, Cheyenne and us Lakota too
Sliced the Blue Jackets, their Scouts too
The US Cavalry would have their glee
At the Battle Of Wounded Knee
Where Siiting Bull would finally rest
Standing Tall's story last's the test
If we Indians had the same resources
Like the silhouette on the hill
These praries we always had. would be ours still.
Copyright © James Fraser | Year Posted 2009
When I was just a little girl, I dreamed I’d meet a knight.
He’d proudly wear his shining armor, and guard me day and night.
I kept on dreaming half my life and searched as I grew.
Until I found my knight one day, I found my knight in you!
Before our paths crossed that day, my struggles had been great.
But when I laid my eyes upon you, I thought it must be fate.
You gently got to know me and embraced me as a friend.
And as our friendship grew in time, we knew it wouldn’t end.
As our lives were set in motion, we climbed mountains and sailed seas.
And as we’ve shared our lives together, we’ve blended with such ease.
Our friendship grew as years passed by into such an enduring love.
This thing we have together now was blessed from God above!
I know we both have said it. We feel it in our souls.
We’ve devoted our lives to each other, and together we’ll grow old.
The love we share is very rare, and should be held with high esteem.
For some may only find this kind, only in their dreams.
This is what God planned for us, to live here on this land.
To be the best we both can be, walking through it hand in hand.
Even when our roads seem rough, we must have a faith that lasts.
We’ll smile as we share many today’s, and reflect gladly on our past.
I hope I’ve touched your life my love, as much as you’ve touched mine.
For this is the love I’ve always dreamed of, a love both gentle and kind.
I believe we meet our “soul mate” only once in our lives.
This blessing from God has come to us, I’m proud to be your wife.
With all this said my poem will end.
A poem for my love, who is also my friend!
I want to thank you with all that I am,
For showing me Darling, the true love of a man!
With all my love, Michelle
Merry Christmas – December 2006©
Copyright © Michelle DeGironemo | Year Posted 2010
Smokeless inhales hurt.
I cough tar on my shirt.
As my black lungs breathe,
Shrilling exhales wheeze.
The nicotine cracks
Copyright © Hyle Chu | Year Posted 2009
Chain smoke until
I'm in care of the CO.
There's one left, still.
I smoke it really slow.
"It's the end," I anticipate
As the last inch evaporates.
I can't get
It's over before
I know it.
Butt, I can't quit.
I'm possessed with this
Obsession; I'm addicted.
My lungs have oxygen,
Yet I'm suffocating inside.
I can't breathe again
Without my 'noxide.
Copyright © Hyle Chu | Year Posted 2009
, , , , , , , , , ,
He is called Red Leaf…. birth child of autumn, and son of the trees
His euphonious legend is heard in the breeze
He is young, he is strong, he has proven his courage
Standing proud against the darkness, and the sins of the reaper
His spirit was not broken, by the weight of the storm
His steadfastness will not melt like the springtime snow
He has honor, respect, and a gallantry within
His songs are his journey, he plays to soothe the wind
There is prowess, and valor in each haunting lullaby
He was taught by his elders, sad songs that touch the sky
His flute holds the stories, like the sound of lonely larks
Of loss, and death, of drifting smoke, and silent ashes
Of when the mountains cried in anguish, and the sky looked on in pain
But yesterday creates today, and holds a promise for tomorrow
New songs are played, today telling of laughter of the birds
And whispers of a bluer sky, how gentle rain will cleanse the smoke
How buffalo will graze again, where the tall grasses will wave again
Red Leaf warms the tender embers, his memories linger on
He plays the songs that drift away,
Trees above where branches sway
The rock, the leaf, the ruddy dust that coats the valley floor
Someday must return, and be restored, just as it was before
, , , , , , , , , , , ,
Copyright © Carrie Richards | Year Posted 2011
I do not know?
I write unto the blank papers stare
A ball point pen in hand without a flare
The words enscribed should be a future quote
As I am the best or at least so you denote
I listen to your comments out loud
And damn you make me feel so proud
I know that I am one of the best
For you tell me so at least I can rest
I take your words in heart with pride
As I feel you only read what "I" enscribe
But as I read words from others souls
I see the same reply that you told
I read the same things told to me
You basterds are just lying to please
You said I have so much to say
I took it to heart as if it where a prayer
I scroll upon others works of "art"
You all say the same crap never heard a negative part
So tell me I suck so I can have pride
To be different than all these brown knosing flys
"You have so much talent why dont you go pro"
Tell that sh1t to the fool on the rope
"As usual you stun me with your words of hope"
I get tired of reading the same for all poets
Giving each other hand jobs for praise
If you didnt hate me now, I am sure your on your way
Do I give a sh1t? Hell no I just laugh until it hurts
At your pointless rantings of whos best on the blurbs
I speak my mind and tell the truth
Why dont you praise yourself and save time of the youth
As they have more talent than you
For they speak the "truth" and say "you suck" when its due
Copyright © Penn Kname | Year Posted 2007
I shall live and die
By my own accord
Only my God may judge me
To him I've proved my worth
I am still here fighting
It matters not what for
On my ship of righteousness
Headed for waters unexplored
The clear night sky will darken
And the clouds seem ominous
I take heed to the sure signs
From them I won't digress
They are in the way of my dreams
And hopes that fill my sails
Like the wind from my heaven
Keeps my skin tough as nails
Evil comes to tempt me
I am not immune
Sometimes I play the hero
Other times I'm just a fool
Either way the choice is mine
I make it with my free will
For that's the gift he gave me
And for what I fight for still
The government is coming
To bring a chaos they call order
The line has been drawn
Between two sides there is a border
I feel myself being torn
To choose a fate in stone
Let this be a lesson
Why I wander on my own
Minds can be controlled
I see it every day
The weak wills fall like dominos
That lie littering my way
An obstacle before me
I iron will it to the end
And when the devil comes
to dance with me
I have already started to transcend
into everything around
I am the universal man
my true form I shall disguise
I am hiding it from this great Satan
they say will come for my demise
I know he will find me
maybe he already has
in a long gone nightmare
that my soul he stole at last
if I remember correctly
I can't say I recall
ever escaping his grip
or did it ever touch me
Copyright © Bj Fard | Year Posted 2012
I do not know?
You slowly open the door
And what is behind them
Quickly leaps out
Trying to take hold
Toward the unknown....
The battle begins
Begins, for it's control!
The forbidden fruit
When will you learn?
When will you know?
How many times
Must you fall?
How many tears
For them all?
A lifetime of lessons
A lifetime of doors
At the end of the hall
At the end
The end of it all!
How many doors
Have you left to turn?
"When"....Will you ever learn?
These doors, like metaphors....
Knock knock, who's there?
No, turn left
Through this door
No, go through that
Past it's corridore, to
It's if and or....
To, it's other door
No, it's many doors
In the end, you shall choose!
Copyright © John Rhinem | Year Posted 2008
All we need a leader
Guide us become one of us
Make us sincere against any killing
Protects our family to live our destiny
All we need a world leader one of us making in one piece
Making it boiling it
Be part of it
In taming is music to our ears
Every morning sliding our badges
Making our leaving gone in sinful slips
Only hope rests pray our best
Every morning sinking reality
Surge become more innovative
Making us in a pot all sincere
All we need a commitment in changing rules
Where money plays reigns in market
To adapt them after turns our sake
It may be time to think learn to leave as one piece
Copyright © reyhan yucebay | Year Posted 2009
Sheathed beneath fey
Ever reclining, ne’er still,
Strenuous tendons, canvassed abruptly,
Sewn and cast upon the ochre ash baize;
Shards slanderous, prosaic splinters,
Obituaries embroidered, solely trough grace.
Sheathed beneath fey
Ever reclining, ne’er still,
Ether let heathers, tore, tread an’ scorn,
Wheaten wore sought, tethered ought-
Shorn, praised amidst, timorous gaze,
Obituaries embroidered, solely trough grace.
Sheathed beneath fey
Ever reclining, ne’er still.
Copyright © William Ward | Year Posted 2006
I do not know?
My eyes can see
That the sand is like sea
And it stretches to the end of my mind
On a ship set to sail
with four legs and a tail
Tishmandu I set out to find
Now the wind is of sand
and can lend a hand
in tearing the flesh from your bone
So your head you keep wrapped
your snaps keep snapped
and you never travel alone
The heat at midday
is to kill and waylay
if the body and soul are not one
So you pray to the east
and prepare for slim feast
begging passage under full sun
Caravan of the seed
born on camels that breed
in an endless march between wells
Over lost count of dunes
under God and full moons
blessing passage with incense and bells
At the end of the day
when gold turns to grey
and the stars brighten the skies
A device is brought forth
to determine true north
and the path where Tishmandu lies
On the fortieth morn
pressing lips to the horn
a signal beckons us wake
Leaving water behind
on a course now refined
the final leagues we must take
Tishmandu is a place
where a white mans face
has never been seen or allowed
But the people have need
and my service agreed
in a land under sky without cloud
Like feathers of blue
in the distance I view
the flags on top of the walls
Though my limbs are worn
my very fabric is torn
I move towards Tishmandu halls
At last in the shade
a walled shelter is bade
I meet with the maker of rules
A service I bring
but to rules I must cling
or a tortures price must be paid
Twenty days and seven
in the passes of heaven
I treated the sick and the lame
With rules on my mind
the medicines I grind
The devil of Tish for to tame
As I washed the sick
and avoided blunt stick
the God of the desert did smile
For the people made well
in this fortified hell
where spirit is subject to trial
In the end I am paid
for the journey I made
and the healing and medicine new
On my camel back
salted meats in my pack
I Bid farewell to Tishmandu
Copyright © Ray Mattos | Year Posted 2011
I do not know?
Piranhas, within a canaries cannibal world....
Feasting upon the flesh, of another innocent and vulnerable life
Delivered by the hands of darkness' entrenched; unknowing but willing, messengers of woe!
In hopes of crippling and destroying, by means of ridicule, guilt and shame
The subtle and not so subtle, of the spiteful and scorned....
Chatterings like arrows, from their poisoned bows
Within comments and verse, and their opened air words
Always the same-looking for their entrance, to bring another to their knees
To evoke their own will? These amissfully mangled and subverse desires
Within, these shatteringly tainted dreams....
Relentlessly they search, for the Achilles heel, to crumble yet anothers hope!
Traveling through these mediums of morbids main, and fluttering hearts....
In through the side doors, and along the corridores, via way, of the shadowish mind
Enter the sublimes of deceivings presented, before all of Heavens sight!
While as half closed eyes stand in silence, all about, within muted watch....
Reminding myself of a case years ago; where a young girl was beaten, stabbed and murdered
As at least a dozen different people, cowered within their rooms
Amid her desperate cries, beggings and pleas for help; help, that would never arrive!?
So such it seems so very often, among many within this society in which we live....
Whom turn their backs and avert their glance; while bowing their heads, and walking on by
Back, into their own blackened holes!....(Cont)
Copyright © John Rhinem | Year Posted 2009
The winds of the night creep in on you and they are up and about.
They surround you in the darkness and shed you into some light.
They are given and they are taken with your most silent thoughts.
They pass through your hidden fears and come from plain sight.
The winds of the night so clever and discreet they really are.
They hold no boundaries to your beginning and nor to your end.
They are warm and they are cold rising above you and reaching up from far.
They are of their own power and hold onto all claims of their own.
The winds of the night come sending a message to the unknown.
The winds of the night are aimless but when directed they drift all together.
They are dangerous when calm at night a sight not even one has really seen.
They are unsettled with no balance yet predictable by where they all concur.
They capture what is felt and heard because they’re accepted as they’re deemed.
The winds of the night come and go for they are on a lifelong mission.
They are silent within your journey for they can not be spoken to or touched.
They exist for your life bringing the world into its final rule on deception.
The winds of the night carry enough strength to lead a massive world into the unjust!
Copyright © Ann Rich | Year Posted 2009
I do not know?
Lord, I believe in You and myself,
With You I can do almost anything.
Even if I'm overweight...
I believe You'll keep me alive until the day
You want me back home with you.
I'm sorry for my sins
And all of us are imperfect humans:
Debating about beliefs, greedy thieves,
And everything else you hate.
So please forgive all of us and open the gate
To Your Heavenly Kingdom.
Have Your Son save us all.
Sometimes I believe I don't deserve You
And Your Promise for Eternity,
But Your Son's words reassure me.
I feel scared of the destruction in Your Revelation,
But remember You'll keep me safe
If I just forever keep my faith.
Copyright © M.P. Faries | Year Posted 2010
I do not know?
I have tried to love
I have tried to befriend
But I have not recived a blessing from above
They have cursed my soul
My heart roars with the anger of being ignored
I have tried praying before
But the prayer made me worse, what was in store
My life was in hell
And the stinking smell
makes me sick, and green
Why did it happen and how
But now I remember my deed
I was with my friends
and the party came to no end
when a handsome man came to me
he gave me a drink
saying the it was called 'The Dream'
I drank it whole
and now I behold my fate
My fate of the posin I drank
From Satins hand
He now commands my soul
Because I drank the posin
No one will ever love me
Not any more.
Copyright © Katerina Miguel | Year Posted 2007
I do not know?
'Love is patient'
'Love is kind'
The thought of love
Can turn you blind.
But... Now we must
Take some steps
To verify those
The first problem you see
Was that. . .
He lied about
You being fat
That in turn
Led ya to
He 'accepted' you.
Mirrors were made
For a darn good reason
And thinking you are nothing special
Is high, high treason...
And no! He's kind
You've lost your mind.
The recipe to love Is that
You have to love your self.
It's not about your facial features
Or the size of ya belt.
The man should be a rock to lean on
And not! A heartless swine.
So please next time. Do pick him wisely
Make sure he has a spine!
Copyright © Annie De Lys | Year Posted 2012
>>1111>>STRAIGHT TO THE POINT<<1111<<
Straight to the point,
No stopping this,
I'm your rival,
This life is about survival,
Or survival of the fittest?
The dopest most explosive lyrical genius writing this,
Beats are tight and vital,
About to take and claim my title,
I'm a nineties dirty ghetto kid,
Accessing detailed memories through subconscious files,
Skateboard connected to my feet grounded,
Pen and paper writing for miles,
Embracing life in a system of madness,
Always doin my best with a huge smile,
While fully grateful,
Within the game with no shame,
On a different level,
Nothing is ever the same,
Imagination left wild,
Positive tendencies learnt through experiments,
Listening to greenthumb, inhale,
Giving anything a go,
within a system i'm not labeled,
Minds collectively lacking cognition,
Brain function disabled,
Getting a message across in rhyme,
Mailed to your mind,
Will it consciously reach ya? teach ya?
My krew never far, we have a laugh,
And hit the footpath,
Skating to a spot with steez,
Stomping tricks but it’s not enough,
Gotta skate fast and master our craft on film,
A skate process of learning patience and pain,
Falling constantly, never giving up,
Fully mindful maneuvers landed consistently,
Converting new skate knowledge to life instantly,
Brain cells firing with high energy form electricity,
Synapse resurrected for the very first time,
Elevating effectively with positivity and productive activity,
In the eyes of society I’m on the same level as workers in a factory,
Trapped but found my way out,
On an alternative route,
To the source creating all of our force,
A seeker without remorse cause that don’t matter,
There’s no deity creator,
Just innocent ignorant talking as a hater,
Instead be like ill mind of Hopsin seven,
Questioning sin, Dismiss,
Listen up, I gotta state this,
This strategic system using the majority of countries citizens,
What I’m consciously witnessing from a distance in the South pacific,
Is insanity at its core to be specific,
Writing from my imagination sober and sometimes stoned,
Striving for balance,
On my skateboard I feel the same,
Sending this out,
You know my name,
Just another street nobody with fame within my clan,
My man Fury this is for you Homie.
Copyright © Quincy Mac | Year Posted 2015