Time is a master piece
That requires patience
Time is the allocation given to
Everyone that is born and living
Time is like a pie consisting
Of all manner of ingredients
That includes all in a humans life
Sadness and joy, peace and war,
births and deaths
Riches and poverty
Every one must partake of this
pie of time.
Time is a master piece we must
Partake of it wisely
Before the time allocated to us is
spent.
For egregious war crimes against fellow Australians, on fifty seven counts' injecting bio-hazardous substances, false
Imprisionment, false information terrorisomg a whole
population, creating un-law.' Denying
Recourse to medical records to ascertain
Causes of death, and how funds were
Allocated, just a few events and actions
Here, all the best to Steven Spiers as
He gets his case together, which i feel
Hardly needed, as recent history corroborates all claims that will be brought.)
Crawling on your arms it feels salacious,
a voice that’s more of a quivering touch.
This type of reaction makes me wonder.
Hardening into crystallized wonder
an itch grows for something salacious.
Blame yourself, you allocated that touch.
In awe of how it feels barely to touch,
I’m whispered into a breathless wonder.
Could it be that I too am salacious?
So salacious is the touch of wonder.
Poets poised pens pulsating poetry.
Writing wonderful words with wisdom.
Making muses manipulate marvelous minds.
Setting suitable selected scribing schemes.
Regulating reasonably reliable required rhyme.
Also adding acceptable allocated alliterations.
Notable nonsense not necessarily needed.
However haphazard humorous hyperbole happens.
In the midst of timeless time, I stand;
But still, she does not stand,
Elegantly moving, tick tock, tick tock, all day,
The price of delay, too heavy to pay.
Millenniums tick by like ponderous dinosaurs,
Time never blinks, always ticking and tocking,
Centuries come, centuries go; no scaurs,
To tell the tale of an ancient king.
Decades tumble upon others,
Years like yesterday roll by,
Months and days tuck arms together like brothers,
Time in a rush, no time to say goodbye.
By the hours, time revs up speed,
Minutes not enough to run,
With frantic fingers, seconds arms feed,
The last of time allocated and moves on.
YESTERDAYS WISHES
They were yesterday’s wishes, all silly fantasies
Bubbly without serious thought, as it was then
Thinking that the world was here just to please
Reality finally dawned, but I am not sure when
Sometime in the midst of that sound and fury
That the sword really was mightier than the pen
There is no way left to appoint a balanced jury
It’s when religion eventually becomes political
Why don’t Christians have an allocated houri
So, please excuse me if I sound too analytical
But the world situation is now reaching critical
She rolls her eyes
and the Devil Dog
knows a subordinate
a savory dish
for her eyes
they deviate
Jackals are gathered
to howl at Sirius
like satellites
they are called up
below it
under its occult rising
The cohort is hoisted
the dole is allocated
immaculate coercion
a spree of offerings
and favors are granted
torches are lit for burning
The ascendent is gifted
the starlet branded
abiding attendants are delighted
under her heliacal rising
Canicula is blazing.
We are finite beings in an infinite space;
We are thrown in at the start,
Pushed into the unknowable depth
Of the darkest waters, without warning.
Sometimes we take pause,
Allow ourselves to admire
The things created for us,
Things we created for ourselves.
The ineffable beauty of the cosmos
Can be found in the melody
Of your favourite song
Swirling on repeat through your mind.
It can be found in the laughter of friends
Bound by the trauma of ageing together,
Getting older and cackling
In the face of the inevitable.
Sometimes it is shared in a gaze
Between lovers, when pupils, thoughts
And lips collide in mutual admiration
Of each other’s spiritual and corporeal form.
Other times we mark it in ceremonies;
Graduating with that desired 2:1
And £60,00 in governmental debt,
The world more open than ever before,
Or the ritual of shrouding in black,
Sending those we love
In Charon’s graceful embrace as dust,
Back to where we came from.
We clock in to our allocated slot,
Repeat tasks of beautiful mundanity,
Surround ourselves with little treasures,
And at the end of it all, clock out,
To be set free amongst the stars.
Seasoned and primed for performance.
It draws attraction to feed it's need to
be seen. How different one might
compare. Each difference than
spoken as favored
from such comparison. It's
maintenance and upkeep creates
a jargon for those who wish to follow
and participate. It's dues are allocated
from the works of it's possessor. Those
who have been allowed to be great
from mere ownership.Yond beyond
the edge; the gravels create the road;
it squarks and squeaks from it's lack of
attention, but breezes to carry the load!
Each of one's five fingers wrapped around
the baton to conduct the Muses of people.
Simple for the trained and difficult for the
untrained to fathom. Yet all in attendance
marvel at the spectacle. To applaud
The oldies retreated from work
But not from killing time
Time allocated may be
As much as the upheaval of
Domestic, world affairs or politics
Although most of the time
They are boasting their present
Bragging their past
Blathering about dissatisfaction
Drivelling politics
They aren't retreating from the world
They are living amongst friends
Gossiping amongst them with low profile
But have once lived with history
But still having a vote in hand
And they will find the truth eventually
With the rest of the time
Before embarking on a journey of
Truth and justice
Which is nearer to god
Which will never be revealed easily
Our time here’s only borrowed,
Our allocated years,
A blended combination,
Of pleasure, joy and fears.
But illness won’t discriminate,
It’s random who gets what,
We don’t know which is our fate,
Or What will occur or not.
And even then unclear,
Will the treatment do it’s job?
All we can be is hopeful,
Too much time that it won’t rob.
No point being pessimistic,
Cos there really is no use,
Let’s look towards the future,
On the planet let me loose.
Cos our time’s only borrowed,
Could be long or could be few,
My illness won’t contain me,
Cos I’ve still too much to do.
What emanates your realities are in you
The aspect of Nature allocated to support you
Responding to your most desired needs
Even when you pray to the wrong deity
Imagine if you dare
My love be
A lifetime spent
Gazing lovingly into a loved one's eye's
Then later those both same eye's welling up
Knowing quite well for 1 of them
Their time will soon be up
Wishing rather time was up for both
Neither wishing one second more
If that time be allocated on the premise
or condition it be spent apart
Better then love depart in one's lover's
warm welcoming embracing arm's
Till whenever forevermore and eternity
death shall not us do both part
You are not water anymore when you turn into a cloud,
You are not the same as water when you are frozen.
Be a dew drop on the top of grass.
Be a shy tiny pearl on the tip of a girl’s nose.
Be the sweat of the salt lake on the back of the farmer who cultivates with plow.
Then, you are no longer water anymore!
When you have smell, color and taste.
There is a book of the night and a page is allocated for each night.
And the night hides under flap of the page.
No one can see with their own naked eyes.
When all the lights in the house are turned off,
Except the moon in the sky, the stars in the far distance places
and the crocked dogs under the lampposts,
No one is then stay awake,
Someone turns her face on the pillow in the bedroom and cries in silence,
The firefly’s chest glows as a dew drop of light!
No! You are no longer water anymore.
As the raw gold, becomes expensive ornament by embellishment---
Something just like that has another name,
Water! Then you are no longer water anymore.
Podemos Divoz & Concevoie Ce Soir !
the initial stage, and the underwriting stage
and distribution stage were initiated from
the beginnings of these talks.
They sought love and found it.
and became wealthy from doing so.
she concentrated on accomplishing
thing were thoughts were manifested into
tangible items. Sung, spoke, and rehearsed,
they toured together for the re-new'd value of needing
to sing something. If I sing love might I find love.
than what would echo, from the louded word's
concerted, front the masses of people.
romantic whispers spoken loud amiss the masses.
thus these words shall enrich the lives of those who wish them
to sound right, pitched at those
who want to catch-on to what goin on !
The Analylis and the Afford, The doing's of his Thang
Making the woman Reel from Freakin. Business of love
Getting the Thang Done !
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