There exists a thin line
Between “you” and “them”.
To ask “who is them” is necessary,
Not asking shouts your capture.
But to ask “who are you”
Is to search for yourself
In places they didn’t expect you to look.
I said a thin line but truly, it’s thick
Knowing south when the rest only north.
In this game, losing your soul
Means taking with you the blind folded.
The ones who refuse to look the other way.
But…, thick or thin, does it really exist?
Now how about, “there exist a wall”
That separates the real and the current you.
This time the task to find
The material the wall is made of
Which will allow you to question and find,
The difficult but vital part of breaking free.
I said a wall, what if there exists nothing.
You see clearly the lines and the lies.
But you know the cost of disobedience.
And got tired of going where
The masses refuse to leave their footprints.
Tired of thorns of red zones,
You know the path, potholes and the truth.
Indeed there’s nothing, just an invisible border.
And you know it.
I walk the beach alone
I draw the contour of your face
~ it simply gets washed away
Wordku: 5-7-5 words
AP: 1st place 2025
When they say not everything is about race
I say yes it is
You may not have experienced it
But I did
Your privilege is showing
Your ego suffocating
Your ignorance provoking
Your stupidity frustrating
Don't insult my intelligence
Racism is still prevalent
It's foundation American
I don't care if my voice makes me a villain
I will always speak up for victims
Of the unjust system
This is a black lived experience
And I will not let that be forgotten
My voice my biggest weapon
It's power could start a rebellion
And you would be very wrong if you think you can silence it
So yes everything is about race
And no we can't be erased
Prove that God exists
doubters challenge me
Prove that He does not, I say
~ with that, they leave me be
______________________
Not for (related) contest
There is no slave of Hecate
it’s sea soft shell saves and covers me
though no bliss unaware
but the pull of her hair
drags her back to reality
though sand soft curves
It limestone hurts
your pink poker hands
on fire they burn
and prick at the skin
of a lizards sin
there is no slave of our Hecate
with twisted nails
filled: grime and mail
brush liquid lines
on cupids cry
find black dog spines
not in her eyes
but wool worn lies
darken the skies
hello to a friend of Hecate.
A record exist,
Way beyond this,
It's very to miss.
Desires try to hide this,
Distracted by bliss,
we create a longer list.
Unaware it exists,
We repeat The twist,
Round and round,
Up and down,
Marking it off the list.
Our minds are becoming a cesspit
full of wokeness and misinformation
fuelled by a media that lies.
It's time we awoke from this madness
before big corporations poison our minds.
The casualty of all this nonsense
Is that truth no longer exist
The silent majority, have been silent to long
to all this deceit and corruption that lives.
Underfoot, a world exists
tiny, harmless bugs and slugs
gently creeping crawlers
While overhead
we heed not our steps
our race of massive maulers
There exists no place
Outside the Lord's grip -
From the outposts of space
To the eclipse of a pit -
He's never far away
And even more so -
He's on the war field
In the foxholes -
In the nursing ward
And in the catacombs.
Where else should He be
But with the wounded
In body and spirit, prithee?
As two are wed -
Jesus - be ever with me.
A question lingers, heavy, leaves.
If God exists, why hide divine?
In troubled hearts, no star doth shine.
The world in chaos, tears descend,
Yet prayers unheard, our sorrows blend.
Does heaven sleep, or turn away?
In search of solace, hearts decay.
But hold, within despair's embrace,
A flicker still, a trace of grace.
Perhaps unseen, yet ever near,
God's silence speaks, a cosmic sear.
A love does not ask, does not expect, does not fight, it simply exists,
In the silence between heartbeats, where time seems to stand still,
Where stars reflect in the tears of the night,
And where dreams intertwine with memories, in a dance of destiny.
In the depths of the soul, where secrets are held sacred,
This love lives, undisturbed by life's storms,
Like an eternal flame, that never goes out,
Even when the winds of fate try to snatch it away.
It doesn't seek affirmations, doesn't wait for promises or vows,
It just lives, in the silence between two breaths,
Where words become redundant, and only glances speak,
Of a love so deep, words cannot express it.
In this sanctuary of the heart, where everything is possible,
True love is born and grows, without asking or expecting,
Like a mystical flower, blooming in the depths of the earth,
And which, even in darkness, spreads its intoxicating scent.
This is the essence of love, the mystery that binds us all,
An invisible force, pulling us towards the center of the universe,
Where our hearts meet and merge,
In a melancholic song, echoing into infinity.
Humanity Exists As Sad Creatures With Evil Skins
Reprieve may be a fine desert or a freedom to live
A blessing freely granted or the power to freely give
But we must dare admit what immense courage some things take
And use our smart brains to identify the sorrowful fakes
For humans react to threats in many kinds of strange ways
But evil exists and demand opponents dearly pays
War savagery that with pure delight evil men do
Truth is one sorrowful day it may attack me and you
This world to oft engages in darkness and destruction
Mankind adopts wickedness as primary instructions
We have no true safeguards when war its ugly head does raise
Best if we trust our God, and give his Son our faithful praise.
Humanity exists as sad creatures with evil skins.
Full of selfish desires, greed in hearts of women and men.
Robert J. Lindley, dark sonnet
Jan. 21st, 1972
Note. This is the truth about humanity.
Unless under Christ's banner, they too oft exist as evil creatures on the take, imho.
forgetfulness
I went to the biggest bookstore in this city
to soothe the sadness
back and forth for about an hour once or twice a day
then, a collection of poems caught my eye
ugly red flowers,
gloomy seagulls with no shape
seas surrounding them
A fairly famous and respected female poet
with quality
I didn't have enough money in my pocket,
so I thought with it a few times before returning
I finally decided not to think about the future anymore
And I started looking through the books of poetry
I couldn't find it
in the shabby, smallest poetry section of the bookstore.
No one could have bought it
been there for years
I gave up because of my headache
I came home and sat at my desk
Just remembered the cover of that
and I made a poem
with a peaceful mind and
I fixed up the books in small shelf under the desk
I discovered
I had already bought it
Not for sale, to be read.
The thunder and lightening
in any brain storm-
On pages of every grain inked
creativity that is warm-
A muse that moves one to
express everyday-
Illustrating feelings that
have existed in play-
It’s those visions that
help to quiet my mind-
Being an endless influence
over my time-
Takes the best one has
implementing it into verse-
Keeping those thoughts
of expression diverse-
Never left bound nor drowning
in another’s view-
A premeditated willful
act written for review-
lingering amidst the artist sketching
on the page -
provoking concealed
edgy moments I’ve saved -
crooked expressions regulate
fragments of flawless visions -
amused by sincere desires
of actual skill inserted incisions -
I close my eyes, let creativity
flow thru my veins-
Not an absence of energy,
Rather where all is humane-
You’ll be given your roses, just
Watch out for the thorns
Remember Eternity only exists
in all that is born-
THE FOOL HAS SAID......
A human who believes there is no God
And we were made from nothingness
Cannot be thinking straight at all
Does not know he is amiss
To start with, how can he say
That humans, stars, and flowers
Were all the result of pure chance
And not intelligent powers
It takes a huge stretch of human mind
To think that such could be
That over a long period of time
Nothing created you and me
And also to the infidels
Who say a God exists
But they think he tossed us all away
As a piece of rotten fish
But real intelligence will show us clear
That our Creator's plans must be
The only kind we can truly believe
That will make sense to you and me
Copyright, Kathryn Search
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