Best Stright Poems
When we were lost,
How did we feel,
Before we came to the cross
Is God real ?
Before that day,
When we turn from sin,
In a world in which we play,
Tired of the pain deep with in.
Jesus came to show a way,
To make stright the path,
For narrow is the gate,
Yet here we are at last.
Thru the days of wonder,
Now you can see his Glory,
His word are as Thunder,
Now can you see the true story ?
Yes, Our God is real,
My eye's have seen from where i've Been,
His love and grace my heart is sealed,
He calls me friend.
Forgiven, made whole,
I now walk and talk to him,
from the pit of hell from I was entering
Jesus saved my soul from all my sins.
Paint Me Ablaze
paint me ablaze
like Rome
start from the head eyeballs mouth nose
castle
hills via neck
harnessed
dusty roads
long hands fingers of
books
waist stomach
kingdom of sorrow
all the king's seats
streams of the fields
and valleys of love
my thighs and knees will slowly burn
for a sign of my future shame
paint
a birth mark
my calves that are trained to go stright ahead til the ankles
convents
feet
toes
the king's army
like an air my name will burn
my meaning will be strewn from my ashes
any sense from my tendons will be free
translated from Hebrew:
Michael Simkin
I'm just an old cowboy Christmas toy
One that's not feeling all that fine
That's because all I want for Christmas is to be a kids toy
One that will always be mine
I'm just an old cowboy Christmas toy
To all you grandfolks I do plead
Stright from this old cowboy's heart
Please find a lonesome kid for me
I'm just an old cowboy Christmas toy
One that's always been left behind
'N let me tell ya, at Christmas time, that don't feel very fine
All it does is to make want to cry
I'm just an old cowboy Christmas toy
HAPPY CHRISTMAS
TRULY BillyWild
p o 8 c o w b o y @ a o l . c o m
Truth or Dare?
The feeling comes within my heart,
Don't know why its so stright up,
High above I can touch my feeling,
Look stright at it and know it all,
I can't never force my poems out,
Unless I can feel it,
And let my emotions run with it,
Poems I write is true,
It comes from my deep heart.
Form:
COOKIES, MILK, MONKEY BARS AND GUNS
WE HELPED LAY THE FOUNDATION FOR THEIR FACTORIES
THE FOUGHT WITH ENMITY AGAINST THEIR ENEMIES
WE RODE RAILS TO ANOTHER PRISTINE CITY OR TOWN
AND NOW, THANKS TO OUR POLLUTION THE RIVERS ARE BURNT SIENNA BROWN
WE POPULATED YOUR CITIES WITH CHILDREN YOU COULD NOT FEED
SO WE FED THEM WITH NUTRITION AND RAILED AGAINST GREED
WE FILLED THE SCHOOLS WITH CHILDREN AND PLAY TIME PHUN
BUT TOO MANY YOUNGSTERS ARE PACKING A GUN
THEY LISTEN TO SONGS SUNG BACKWARDS FOR A HINT OR A CLUE
AS PROSECUTORS AND JURIES WONDER WHY THEY DO WHAT THEY DO
THEY DO WHAT THEY DO BECAUSE RACISM AND HATRED PREVAIL
AND NOT ONLY THEM BUT MOST ALL OF US ARE DOOMED TO FAIL
FOR ALL OF US WITH CERTAINTY WILL CERTAINLY FALL
BECAUSE SO MANY OF US WON'T STAND UP STALWART, STRONG AND TALL
THEN MILLIONS OF STUDENTS FLOOD THE STREETS WHEN THEY HEAR THE DISMISSAL BELL
AS US USELESS AND BLIND ADULTS SET AN OPEN COURSE DESTINED STRIGHT TO HELL
(C)2011.....PHREEPOETREE ~free cee!~
How many masks we wear a day?
The Happy mask, when on our way.
The Smiling, saying - "How are you".
Not even asking, so, it's not true.
.
When friend comes up to us in tears
We wear Sad and say - "Oh, dear".
Compassion we wear next
If they are needed or they're best.
.
The game of Love is where we blossom:
Pretending, Faking, Playing awesome.
And when loved say - "Goodbye" for good
We wear Ice, but heart is wound.
.
And dating, oh my God, it's funny.
So many say - "We hate games, honey."
But when you stright with them, they shake
And interest so quickly fades.
.
So, are masks evil or are needed?
Or it depends how we were treated?
Or it so deeply sits inside
That we can't differ faked from I?
.
And Playing during life in hopes
That will meet that True Love that's honest.
But when we meet that Prince or Queen
We still can not believe it's real...
Trash, Smashed paper on the street That means nothing to the world old woren out objects
that set on the floor and rot on the spot they lay, like the waste from a toxic truck that
no one botherd to clean up
My life is like this a bundle of muck and iam the toxic from the truck that is looked at
like the unclean man who has nothing but his hands, Who greavels and kneels just to get
his next meal.
Today will be the last day iam treted like smut, voimit that was never cleaned up like a
comit I will riase to the stars to take my frist look at the path never took and I will
step on that road and look my last look at those who could of took a little more time to
unwind and see that the world dosen’t stop for just the, he, or she.
We to be as people stand who have been in the shadows who have never to understand why we
are looked at this way by the stright, bi, or gay.
we only wish to say what can’t be said by the lips of man to sip the cup that has not been
passed to are lips, to breath the air that was unmeant for are lungs to not being lashed
or just trash at are own families door. ~ Jeff
I FALL TO MY KNEES ASKING PAPA DIOS TO KEEP MI FAMILIA SAFE FROM
THE FAKE SMILES THAT GO CON LA BRISA ITS NOT EASY
RUNNING TOSE LA PUERTA INSIDE OUT FOCUSING ON THE PREMIO AHEAD OF THE PACK OF WOLVES IN STRIGHT UP WOOL CLOTHING MI META IS STRIGHT AHEAD NOT LOOKING PARA TRAS SOME MAY PULL YOU TO PERDER
LA PACIENCIA AND LOSE CONTROL OF WHAT KEEPS YOU SANE ENOUGH IS PARTE OF A FIGHTING PEACE OF FRAME OF MIND KEEP MINE PRAYED UP CON LA BENDISION OF OUR FATHER ABOVE I FLY SOLA MIGHT SAY HOLA BUT KEEPING IT MOVING CON LA FRENTE HIGH WHILE COLLECTING WOUNDS THAT HOPE TO DOME MI ESPIRITU BUT HE THAT SEES ME LEBANTARA ALWAYS ITS BEEN THAT WAY FROM THE PRINCIPIO I JUST DID NOT KNOW HE HAS BEEN AN MI LADO FROM THE START AND WILL REMAIN HE NEVER FORSAKES WE DO FALLING SHORT OF THE GLORIA OF DIOS BY ALL MEANS NOT PERFECTA BUT A WORKING IN PROGRESS I FLY SOLA FOR NOW TILL HIS RETURN AMEN
The rain keeps pouring down on me puddles of water start to suround me.
left right up down no matter where I was looking its falling down.
I walk outside all dressed in my gear ready for the rain I can hear.
Looking up way up high still nothing but rain in the sky, I think I will get wet today.
Walking slowly I decide its time to have some fun, I jump from stone to stone trying not to dip my toes. I flap my arms and wiggle my nose trying to stay up stright you know.
At last I see a tree with branches so wide it could hide me.
One last jump and I'm there hugging the tree like its my best friend.
Shaking all the water off of me, I look like a dog taking a bath, so I shake harder and laugh.
Finding a large branch I sit for a spell singing a rainy day song to myself.
Splat splat, drip drop, I look up and all around, I see the rain has ended and the sun shines down.
Down from the tree I spring so fast. Now is the time to make the best mup pies and watch them dry in the sun, theres never an end to my fun.
This is how I rember the rainy days of my youth,boy how I miss the old times.
Now all I have are my aching joints and runny nose.
What an adventure life is!
... we are building that famous tower
are we going to use different languages?
and so all our efforts would fall?
or, are we going to create the round tower?
The way to the top of the hill
at three o'clock in the afternoon
after falling three times
in the three scorching suns, the Earth opens,
it redens, dries up, dies.
Maybe from behind the wall of our tower,
two days after,
white smoke would rise,
stright up, like that in the desert,
not of the empty haze...
But of the begining
of our love... and poetry...
he watches over us
thur rain snow and dust
hes one to trust
so stright up
drink a love cup
to get to heaven thats
what it take
ITS A FACT
JESUS IS COMMING BACK
SOMEDAY
Out in dah night, 'POOF', into a slumber
in er garden she whispered sometin' to me
dah, I dream't a lovely gal, I'd met one summer,
a sum time ago, under er ol'e peach tree
er Hill-billy mom wer' watchin' from afar,
spyin' on er rockin' chair, sure spotin' us
suddenly, LETS ELOPE, use tha ol'e car
wait, we'll take leave, this night by bus,
Then I 'eard er say, no need fer any fussin',
In 'er whisper, an right then, out of that blue,
a top of her lungs er mom started a hollerin',
stright at us both, she whaled, I see you two,
I just known' it, when ya'll did sneak that kiss,
let it be true- a young'n, I want er to be a boy
'WHAT'- on green acres is she hollerin' O' miss
Fer I'd been with yer only I think once in De'troy
"O' ne're before, have I loved so true"
she whispered- do sleep, she went on to say...
I want to spend my life wit' someone like you
POOF, rubbin' my eyes, in da night, 'ere I lay
Da! dreamin'- "It's a boy, I'd pray he be"
Since, before I bed, I pray, should I miss her
set'n in my garden, under my ol'e peach tree
reck'n per'haps somday-I'd hear'er sweet whisper.
NOTE: She wispered "honey your dreamin' out loud again"
YOUR ON MY MIND ,
I CANT STOP
YOUR ON MY MIND ,
SO I CRY ALOT
YOUR ON MY MIIND ,
WOUNDERING IF YOUR OK
YOUR ON MY MIND ,
WOUNDERING IF YOUR COMING
YOUR ON MY MIND ,
ARE YOU ALRIGHT
YOUR ON MY MIND ,
JUST WISH YOU WOULD SOME HOME
YOUR ON MY MIND ,
JUST WOUNDERING IF YOU CAN SLEEP WELL
YOUR ON MY MIND ,
THAT IS WHY I CANT SLEEP
YOUR ON MY MIND ,
THAT I JUST WANT TO TALK TO YOU ALL THE TIME
YOUR ON MY MIND ,
THAT I CANT THINK STRIGHT
Form:
a pen to a page with stories to tell
if words could paint a picture what object would that picture sell
a scribble a scratch a cross a stright line
a story a word written in rhymes
a search a solution a problem of kinds
never in the grasp of hands to find
if pages were re-written turning back time
would it cause the flow to cease in the mind
or would it constrict and tighten the bind
if the path to resistance would break down design
could you look at the path before you, to see the sign
or would you turn away and leave it behind
pretending you did'nt see because youre blind
it walks through the shadows of the cracks at your feet
escaping the sunlight sprawled out on the street
it claims sweet victory then asks for defeat
devouring the fruits then pursuiing the meat
enveloped in coldness exuding heat
while the world must stand forcing you to take a seat
man makes history and history makes a man
when the soul reaches out for the body to stand
to live each breath as if it were your last
looking to the future but taking note of the past
when thoughts seem to stop you must make them resume
before the present turns to the past to consume
thoughts are important but not a place to dwell
to build up a wall to surround you in hell
building an ego that soars past towers
giving others the key to use your powers
to build restraint placed upon your soul
for you to understand its yours to control
Lost in my life
everything is a myestery
i can not describe
what is happening in history
for life is not pain
going insane
when people have life
then the time perscribes a wife
when world comes to an end
then everything goes stright down the drain
so time is just a bend
for all the soul of the experments of the lain
for everyone trys
and everyone dies
when time just slows down
then i hit the ground
for everwhere i go
i just went really want to show
and things will not pass
as i go now in the grass