I love the word humankind because of the message it creates.
There is no prejudice in that word…it does not discriminate.
It affords every human being upon this planet Earth
the same meaning…the same value…the same importance…the same worth.
It means no matter how we try to separate ourselves….
what arbitrary labels we’ve assigned…
we will always be a member of the same…one…humankind.
When I see humans who by other humans are mocked, abused and cursed
I wish those people doing the mocking would realize we are all humans first.
I love that humankind is a compound word…
with two definitions to keep in mind…
one…reminding us we are all human…
the other…reminding us to be kind.
There is a distinction between the two words…
and that distinction is the key…
Human is who we are…kind is who we ought to be.
Which means the message in that compound word is a simple one…
there is always room for growth…
and when it comes to humankind…
we should strive hard to be both.
I'm faced with debility, a deluded idea
that i can make a change by doing nothing at all,
staying the course. No matter how
this my effect my fate.
there are visions of delirium
that come from a life of captivity.
It's not the loneness that kills you.
It's the echos, scratching voices
that cling to the walls refusing
to be understood. Poor calamities.
My disposition affords me no ignorance
at this point. My days, not a night's rest.
My eyes are darkened so that nothing escapes
they want for nothing in-between fleeting blinks.
relief, light just something to look forward to a vision.
A vision that's not obscured by ego or materialistic lament.
But one that's full of love and understanding
the resolution of the full picture.
The trees remember what the axe forgets.
The mirth of lovers romping on the loam.
The light that filtered through in golden nets,
and beasts that roamed for shelter in the gloam.
A broken branch still weeps for a birdsong.
Its tears of sap, the proof of unseen scars,
that cling to echoes hoping to prolong,
a splintered life among the fallen stars.
The oak that watched the centuries pass by,
now chopped in grief no landscape should endure.
The magpies’ songs sound as a craving cry.
Yet, their sad thrill affords a scant succour.
The chainsaws wailed the way sad mothers moaned.
while sawdust stacked up high like guilt disowned.
“Come one, come all!”
The hawker summons
Try your luck
On the unmoored Ferris wheel
Hurl a dart
At the Kewpie dolls
Win one for the lady
To consummate the deal
(Chorus)
Intruders in the festival
Outsiders at the gates
Nothing like a carnival
To bring up dormant hates
Where the pavement meets the grass
Behind the stand of funnel cakes,
Someone's getting hornery
Their pants down at their feet
This balloon-tank life
Is more than I can take
This Friday night special
Affords me no relief
(chorus)
Prizes, prizes, and more prizes
Mustachioed lady dons disguises
The smell of ether and saw dust
A dead roller coaster under rust
They say life is a funhouse
That explains why everyone is so ugly
A grotesque face in a curvy mirror –
A cotton-candy bed for an endless nightmare –
It’s carnival time, again.
Thought On Choices
Miracle Man
2/24/2025
Once time has passed it doesn't return,
we’ve only past to recall and yearn.
When chosen wisely along the way,
“what if’s” can’t control our thoughts today.
We've only one shot to get life right,
so do what is required, day or night.
Life affords us no chance to rehearse,
that untaken path might have been worse,
I have found that meditation
Helps with the quiet you hope to find
It affords one the solitude
In the sanctuary of your mind
Some may travel the astral plane
Some may scoff at such ability
For the enlightened, come rest your head
On a pillow of tranquility
Oh we righteous striving to cease being sinners
Do we fight with the aim of being winners
When the fight goes on and on
Seemingly a curse on every eon
That to find earthly favor and treasure
The upright endure labour and pressure
Pressing with weariness and attrition
Aiming to edge us out of culture and conviction
Make hard the good and easy the evil
That the ungodly may be termed civil
Sight is easy but faith is best
So shall the Christian enter into rest
The battle belongs to the Lord
His Majesty and Might that we cannot afford
Affords us to be still and know
As He bolsters our faith and makes a public show
For us and for those who ask “Where is your God?”
And so are we comforted by His staff and rod
That ye shall stand and witness His deliverance
And the testimony always lace your utterance
K. Muitherero
soft, yet ...
like a breath of Noshaq
you are gone in a whisper
bound for some dreamy realm (imagining)
where exquisiteness affords you
a throne in Valhalla …
you dance among the frosted peaks
like Misha with the Mouse King
prancing on a puff of wint'ry wind
yearning for the bloom
of early Spring
the nuzzle of a warm nose
or the easy gift
of a frozen lake of swans
hush, you ...
about your business
secret stories you tell to the mountain
of visceral attentions, keen
wondrous things that we lesser creatures
will never be privy to -
things that you find your common bidding
but that fools like me -
wholly taken with sublime form
and ghostly airs -
find spellbinding ... breathless
enchanting ...
you are a feral phantom
demon AND deity of a covert kingdom
I am cursed to only conjecture on
or put to inadequate word ...
a magical dominion of
deliberate and brutal elegance
that has graced me with but a glimpse
a rare, tender, precious instant
blessed by the substance of a moment
far too beautiful to ever
capture.
Use Time Expediently
Written: by Miracle Man
5/13/2024
Yesterday’s are always unforgiving,
for hourglass sand can’t defy gravity.
Thoughts should be on time we’re living,
we shouldn’t live life in depravity.
We cannot alter the hands of time,
nor learn what amount remains.
But know it shortens with each clock chime,
and once used, affords us no refrains.
Live within your means
Just as your looks are within your genes
Drop not your chins
For other’s surpassing sheens
Play not another man’s game
For it affords him glory and fame
It’s a sure way to suffer waste and shame
When you forego what was always in your name
Your call proudly bear
Though applause be scarce and rare
Brace, endure and dare
Be proven and never have to swear
Walk thy pace
Show thy face
Make your case
Firmly and with grace
You are with beginning and with end
And ye are rendered to depend
Though ye are free to attack or defend
Of your frailties you cannot pretend
However the wind blows
Wherever the river flows
How sun shines and moon glows
Only God knows
K. Muitherero
Get It Right
Miracle Man
4/18/2024
After the final chapter of life is written,
Many will judge us better,
or worse than perhaps we were.
To those that we may have aggrieved
there will be a time of forgiveness maybe.
To others, a time to feel relieved.
Time spent self forgiving is not enough,
We must repent for our shortcomings in life.
Then we’ll know that all is right, and God is pleased.
But ultimately, on that day, the judge we face,
will be one who makes only just and righteous decisions.
Judgment Day affords no pardons or paroles.
Revelation 20:12. KJV
“And I saw the dead, small and great, stand before God; and the books were opened: and another book was opened, which is the book of life: and the dead were judged.
The boomeranging echo
deafening to receive
retro rockets smoking with the effort to retrieve
What dignity affords
Approaching the singularity
Where mathematics misbehave
Infinitely distorted space and time discovers I am brave
For this the final frontiers inimitable calling to me softly astral plane
Rosie the robot
Taking on a life of her own
Worlds beyond comprehensive control boweavil seeking her home
54321 Houston we have lift off
Winging through the atmosphere this star dust studded loam
Made for growth this rootless vine ideal it seams to roam
Nomadic maiden trying to ignite fire with sodden sticks
In a van down at the river
Still up to your old tricks
This hardwired struggle release
Return oh Viking warrioress
You won this fight at birth
Now sail with pride this prairie schooner when you return in peace
Rest my sweet Rest
For you are lightyears or a softly spoken word away
Prepare for your reentry
at last
Your coming home
God's word is clear, a call to segregate
From the world's wicked ways, to separate
Not to befriend the darkness, nor to condone
The sins that shame the Lord, and cause His throne to moan
But many play the fool, with feet in both camps
Claiming Christ's name, while living in the devil's trance
Enjoying the world's pleasures, like heathens of old
While professing faith in God, with hearts grown cold
But we are called to come out, to be set apart
To live in holy distinction, with a tender heart
Not to love the world, nor the things it affords
But to seek first the kingdom, and His righteous words
So let us heed the call, to separate and be pure
To follow Christ alone, and not the world's allure
For friendship with the world, is enmity with God
And we must choose whom we will serve, and to whom we will nod.
Pronouncing gives me stress.
With syllables to chance,
could ‘monchielle’ be French?
I feel I can’t advance,
a poilu in a trench.
Pronouncing gives me stress.
Italians insist
words like ‘monchielle’,
devoid of hidden twist,
rhyme with ‘vermicelli’.
Pronouncing gives me stress.
Three syllables, no more?
A word like ‘monchielle’,
by making me keep score,
presents a living hell.
Pronouncing gives me stress.
I openly confess;
though anxious to impress,
I find this verbal chess
affords me no success.
Why, as we grow older
do we lose the innocence of youth
are ageing and innocence mutually exclusive
is it because innocence affords us no protection
leaving us defenceless
easy victims
and so we abandon it
as we come to know the world that we inhabit
a world that tells us to expect the worst
and as we look for the worst
and find it all around us
our focus is lost to wonder and opportunity
our openness and willingness to trust
branded silly and naïve
dangerous even
the awe that filled us when young
that had us keen and vibrant
fearless and full of expectation
has become the currency of the childishly gullible
of little value in the ranks of lost innocence
and so
having left our youth behind us
and with it our innocence
an innocence that inspired us
permitting us to be open and unguarded
to accept our world at face value
to be impulsive and trusting
to believe in innate goodness
we have
with the guiding wisdom of age
decided
that it is no longer prudent
to unquestioningly offer our hand
to unreservedly open our heart
to smile and welcome people in.
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