barter for the bellmaker
fire the forge, fill the flue
cast cast-iron chimes
chime for time's renew
fire the forge, fend the flash
fan the flames, feed the fire
cast cast-iron cauldrons
cast a spell, catch desire
bitter for the bellmaker
fires the forge, fans the flame
casts cast-iron tears
cannot catch desire's name
For the forty 3rd attempt
Of incline
A forty 3rd question unanswered
Los Angeles requires an accomplishment
As yet the roofs of wealth choir no challenge
Stilled in self wonder the share constants
Water and health in abundance, again
This execution remembers every faculty
Partners and sermons
Cost and boss
The build of document to spend
Little shadows of Washington fend
The framers of a Los Angeles hard at work
During war time
Without end
Preparing the give
Ready for another attack
That steal refuses its sound
Prefer of the city and cities charity
Suggest of intonation
None strate to the cause
America in Los Angeles only lensing past tense
Encampments of abandon
In a day of labor, no notes
No reservation
No surplus
This was written from the heart.
Never knew it'd come to this.
I don't know where to start.
Mama, your son gotta kind heart!
But every day, the world's telling me to play my part.
From a boy to a man, I had to transcend.
Like a pea in a pot, I had to grow up.
Never once complained when it's time to show up.
I've been scarred, betrayed, and left to fend for myself.
No one's fault but mine, for trust don't get you far.
So I've learned to keep my heart dark, like a tint up car.
And fight it by myself this internal war.
Sorry it took me so long to understand.
The world's doesn't cater for the weak.
That every man's battle is in their own hands.
Win or lose, you gotta stand strong.
And a man's tears are as worthless as a dollar coin.
The older I get, there's thing's I comprehend.
Like family can be your biggest hater, nothing like a friend.
And you gotta answer to God for every sin.
I apologize for not knowing this in the beginning.
There are two days I know
Yesterday and today
Yesterday laid the cross I bear
Cross I dared not to wear
Forever we stay, they say,
But the thorns stares away
In the pasture last known to stray,
Cradle land, a means to an end
Forgive me if I stray to forever land
For my kin, I bared my soul to fend
I gave my all and my all it took
Parting is luxury for tomorrow unknown
Final glimpse I begged the stars to hide
Evil stares where eyes dared not look
In corners cloaked by fear and stain
Mara Chantal@2025
The false prophets abloom again
just like they were at the turn of the century.
Afterall, 2000 is a huge number
and huge numbers beg for huge events...
the second coming would have fit the bill.
After a couple thousand years
the wandering children of Israel came back home
The good book says the third temple has to be built
some red heifers are to be sacrificed.
Sometime after, the antichrist is to arrive.
This is when things supposedly get a little rough
the believers are going to get sucked into heaven.
the rest of us will be left to fend for ourselves
in the rubble and nuclear dust.
The tribulation ignites
Christ is commissioned to open a can of wup ass.
I'd pay top dollar for a front row seat to that.
Then a thousand years of peace (this is hard to believe.)
What happens after that is anyone's guess.
PS.
Some pink haired woman on utube
recently screamed "Trump is da antichrist"!
Just like some beer bellied boys thought Obama was.
I believe the antichrist to be a covert type entity
Trump always shows the world what's up his sleeve.
Besides I don't think Dr. Triple 6 will have a comb over
but then again, I'm no prophet.
"The Race of life" by #blossommonyei
The race of life
I am about to describe
Where some has to work and strive
While the others bribe.
As the first car runs faster than the other
With ease it crosses every border
It wins every level
Without any struggle.
The second car lacked speed.
And prays not to be defeated.
To him the audience paid less heed.
You only have friends when you have succeeded.
The race of life begins at birth
And most people give up too soon.
There's nothing easy on this earth
Unless you're born with silver spoon.
You'll cross the finish line with hardworks
Leave those oportuned, their money talks.
Finish the race it's yours to fend.
Never loose hope until the very end.
The foxes in my garden
Arrive at night to play
They had their fill of chicken
And so decide to stay
I crouch down on my haunches
And look into her eyes
The little one so trusting
She’s like her mother wise
I see how she has taught them
To fend well for themselves
But only Little Roxy
Has me so overwhelmed
She comes to me at midnight
For honey in a bowl
As I crouch down and watch her
I know my heart she stole.
The other three just run around
They eat and scatter fast
But Roxy and her mother
Make this encounter last
The ink returns—not to defend,
nor chase the ghosts I used to fend.
Not to explain the aching past,
but breathe through wounds that couldn’t last.
It does not rise with pointed proof,
nor beg for silence turned to truth.
It flows because the heart now dares
to speak in lines what once hid there.
Where words once cost too much to say,
a softer voice now finds its way.
No longer chained by fear or flame—
the ink returns, and I remain.
Each letter born from quiet grace,
a tender reclaiming of space.
No longer lost in fear’s dark night,
but glowing now with steady light.
The pages hold what heart has learned—
a story told, a life returned.
In every stroke, a soul set free,
the courage found inside of me.
I may not be in the best position to give advice
but know that this little ditty comes from the heart ~
Self-respect goes a long way.
Set your boundaries and stand your ground.
People will want to play their games,
when they get close you'll fend them off.
Guard your integrity with your life,
it's the best thing that you've got.
Win gold
be bold
Long run
such fun
High jump
speed bump
Grand prize
all eyes
Close race
in chase
Drab match
I catch
Ground stroke
no joke
Tiebreak
heartache
Foot fault
must halt
Forehand
so grand
Deuce court
report
Drop shot
on spot
Backspin
just in
Closed stance
advance
First serve
hold nerve
All out
no doubt
Arm ball
your call
Back foot
well put
Feet sore
crowd roar
Pit stop
right flop
Air jacks
not lax
Catch fence
immense
Choose cone
in zone
Downforce
of course
Dry line
sounds fine
Black dot
so what
Box-kick
smart flick
Breakdown
don’t frown
Eight-man
staunch fan
Fend-off
not half
Fly half
big laugh
Five-eight
high rate
Foul play
no way
Free kick
quite slick
Full-back
don’t slack
Knock-on
now gone
Loose head
instead
Pop pass
first class
Red card
off guard
Set piece
they tease
Shoeing
booing
Touch judge
won’t budge
Midcourt
retort
High clear
hear hear
Backstroke
awoke
Duck-Dill
instil
Frontcrawl
your call
Grab start
look smart
Pull Buoy
alloy
Swim Down
don’t clown
inside if mind
no less of ledged, against
you bet, wild
that i didn't wink
sworn to soar over with oath
in torn battled threads
instill
i'd fend
often from wherever
in between needles, break
findings the fiddlers wife
chins reddened and thoughts ill
gotten white?
rotted harm
to joyfuls shoulder
i should find, myselfish poor
Social media
The X-twitter this morning was disappointing it consisted of 60% Musk and 40% Trump bragging about how great they are at winning the battle of saving America from the disaster of paying the poor too much and reducing medical aid to the old who must learn to fend for themselves It is tiresome to see the same triumphant smiles and one wonders if they ever sit down asking if their presence in the oceans of opinions matters do they doubt themselves, are they ever unsure if they might be wrong, is their preening too powerful an impregnable wall hindering them to have souls, drowning in the glare of self-love I pity them should they see themselves for what they are utterly pathetic humans a failure of creation by a god of wroth
I fend with the wine
I hide with a laugh
I jeer at my time
Forlonging so as it pass
I stand with my defiance
I fall with pride
I swim through my failures
I lay my faults by the side
I never cease to care
I don't want my love to end
I stare at a vortex of hate
And i lost to that which i depend
I run my hand across my wrist,
The rough scars feel normal under my fingers,
But to anyone else, they would be foreign.
I was a fighter, I had to be,
But everything has its consequences.
Running the blade across my own wrist was mine,
It was the only way for me to feel something.
Since I was small I was forced to be strong,
But a child should not need to be strong.
I wasn’t even 14 and I had to fend for myself,
I had to pick up my broken pieces.
The scars on my body tell that story,
They are reminders of my pain.
I run my hand across my wrist,
The rough scars remind me that I will survive,
I did before, and I will now.
Why do I have to see you everyday
It's timely every morning I passed by
It's timely that I see you at the beach
Before I coming to sea for fishing
I see you picking sea shells with that 'lil basket
Wearing your usual abaca hat and that flowery duster
The curves of your body shape by the passing breeze
That made my chest gather its heavy breathe
As usual a fake countenance cannot see on my face
As morality teach us not to fend feeling to a foreigner
But those encountered scene troubling my mind at sea
Leaving some guilt and fun moment registered here
Why do men so weak on women temptation tactics
Even in the middle of the sea that woman's beauty is painted.
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