Why are there so many steps to reach certainty?
To be honest, I wish my roots would let me leave calmly
So much grows fast around me;
I feel like the only tree
Trying to break through the canopy
Searching for sunlight feverishly
But in this shade, I can not see what's hurting me
I just feel the cuts once again creating scars deeply
Autumn comes and her fall opens my eyes wide that she;
Is showing the Lioness whose claws are giving me; a beautiful way to die.
I am thirty minutes early to my doctor’s appointment
a yearly welfare check to see if I am suicidal or whatever
Employees arrive along with me, carrying things here and there
Setting up their work stations for the day
Putting toilet paper in the bathrooms
Reminds me of a frenzied hill of frazzled ants
I keep my head down, writing feverishly
she had only asked him to come in for a cup of hot strong coffee
an innocent gesture in her mind maybe an interesting exchange
of thoughts on philosophical matters like love death and existence
yet once they had smoked a first cigarette the smoke clouds parted
like sea waters of Yam Suph in the form of spiritual enlightenment
candles flickered and incense filled the room with sandalwood and musk
serenity and pheromones diffused hardship fear loneliness and inhibition
passionate silence of words merged with quivering lips in fervorous action
and the pulse of their hearts raced in crescendo surely missing a few beats
velvet skin like cinnamon bark feverishly exposed unlimited desire
an immaculate conception of wisdom arose from instantaneous Karma
and twenty years later they still need no picture guide on how to make love
"the clouds parted like the pursed lips of desire" and that meant the world
Another drag... inhale, exhale, inhale, lungs fill with toxic smoke
another sip... fire glides down her aching throat
another croaking whisper to the one beside, although aloof and remote.
She laughs in the face of sorrow, trying in vain to hide behind her eyes
the sound is an open coffin, a high hysterical
plea filled cry
I imagine she has children, and the sweetness of love since nothing less can cause such hurt
For what we care for most, are the very things
we just can't desert
As much as we yearn to dislocate, hide and finally
push self~destruct
We are bound with soul ties that true love feverishly constructs
Unable to throw off these chains
connecting soul to soul
We walk about as Marley's ghost,
each link taking a toll.
For the ties are conducive to nightmares or dreams of lost loves
Imprinted on our hearts and minds, never fully leaving us.
Whether your Love is unrequited, or Love that stays true
You create the spirits that will forever haunt you.
Amid the raging sandstorm
by the bank of flowing lava
I wait feverishly to hitch a ride
upon a galloping herd of unicorns
across this breathtaking cosmos…
Life, how far will you travel with me?
As the wind cascades out in a frenzy motion
Nephophilia, a thudder crave
Exclamation is a sudden urge
Since soft cotton candies switches to pastels and iridescents
Looking up close
Still immeasurably far
The old regime of sunrise and sunsets finna come up to horizon
where moons and suns collide
stars surrounding them
blues and whites around them
casting shadow of white daisies
So small and wrecked
spurting a yelp of joy, when a cold breeze wheezed out
In blues and whites
they gleam
As a boon to the demure daisies
It is eternal
Feverishly eternal
When they run about in adorbs
It is mushiness and sweetness scattered all over in the morn
This is where I am, in this season
the season to hold upon these clouds
to hold as tight as it gotta be
This season is everlasting
this season to swim the length of the sky
Just for the blues and whites
Just for the blues and whites...
ALL of us MUST REMEMBER what tiny space one occupies in this world of God's creation.
History will tell the true story and how we manage it.
“The heaven and the heavens belong to the LORD,
but He has given over to mankind the earth to manage."
In some places we are doing good,
but because of many human frailties
we are not doing so well. As we look at the universe,
large as it is and still expanding and we on the tiny earth, a small space.
There are many questions still to be answered.
The challenge of 2025, will it bring success or will it bring other failures??
Merry Christmas and let us celebrate the birth of Christ and the New Year will set pace the generations to come.
I hope and pray that what I’m feverishly trying to say makes sense to the
one that may read without prejudices.
A ruinous filth spills onto the page
Like sap from a trees rotting heart
Hands covered in black
The speaker of my memories
Smooth and razor thin
An emissary of ink
I envy the pen and it’s melan-written spiels
Armored with a voiceless vignette
It is its only way to prove that it’s master is alive
Feverishly pushing its point to a fading death
Is this the fate of all who pick up a pen,
or am I the unlucky who withers among the living
Buried and fossilized beneath a healthy pink tongue
Are my words not memorable ?
Will my efforts be admired?
Have I not earned a meaningful epilogue?
Quote: "Tomorrow's sun will rise, either in splendor or behind a mask of clouds, but it will rise." Unknown Author of a well known poem.
As the day meanders by,
Sunbeams still stream from the sky,
With so many promises left to fulfil.
And a relaxed sensation lingers still.
Euphoric stimulations rush through my mind,
A pulsating tempo, urging me on to unwind.
A peace in knowing, what I know to be so,
I fret for the knowledge of what I don’t know.
Alarmed yet inspired by the sun’s sudden sinking.
The loss of this day sets my mind feverishly thinking.
A panicked realization, harshly jolted by twilight.
The day is ending and turning to night.
I watch the golden orb with its crimson halo.
Each unfinished promise must wait, this I know.
The sun melts into the far off shadowy hills,
My failure to complete each task, now gives me chills.
However, sunset’s glowing beauty of splendor untold.
I rest as night’s velvety blanket begins to unfold.
With a sweetness, and a warm tranquil overtone.
Knowing that tomorrow’s arrival is surely set in stone.
Marcie is a delicate, pretty girl with pale blonde hair
Everything about her is natural, a hippie throw back
She thinks like her grandmother, which means she is open
to all kinds of people, and ideas; she sticks to ideals.
She has integrity, a quality we love finding in our heroines
The champion of others, Marcie stands up for the underdog
And the overdog, and all of the other dogs, wanting justice
She is explicitly exacting about fairness, sign of high intelligence
Marcie wears dresses, endearing herself to the ladies at church
the older ones with the peach, pink and blue dyed hair
They think of her as their granddaughter or grandniece
She would be a welcome addition to any of their families
She has no thought of settling down yet, she is young
And feverishly passion about going to a foreign country
She wants to help bring peace to the world
Feels she is the one to do it, and I believe her.
I am Nobody:
no name on my grave
in the Veterans’ Cemetery --
not even certain if all parts
match – those bombs really
had no personal objective when
targeting and dispatched –
Their bull’s eyes~ all Enemy.
I am Nobody; don’t earn
a lot, after your release from
the hospital, once healed,
you never met the EMT
who feverishly pumped life
into your failing lungs, during your
rushed, siren screaming journey
through unyielding traffic --
probably never thanked the nurse
in the ER, with a name-tag,
often gone unread – Oh, you met
the doctor, who earns all the big
bread – He has a noble title – he
has lauded fame – unlike Nobodies
more or less, diminutive
the same – just Nobody --
the Nobodies who build the bridges
repair the roads
pickup the garbage
often given little more mention
than prince-less pond toads –
when I croak, Just a slimy
soak – in society, most Nobodies
die broke – soggy, irrelevant
pond splashes –
Only rich when considering love...
It’s a parasite’s world.
The worm of laziness
Clogging the mind,
Ego refusing change.
It’s a parasite’s world,
Seeping through one’s blood and breath.
Adoption, adaptation to change, an uphill task.
Ignorance, dark, deep, masquerading ugliness.
It’s a parasite’s world---
Where dependence is practice.
And excuses-- strategy, to design.
Deadlines met feverishly by others.
It’s a parasite’s world,
Where type of work affect quality.
Where comparison and perks galore
Stifling freedom, to create with responsibility.
It’s a parasite’s world,
Where, those who do and are willing
Get busted with jargon of abuse.
Euphemisms learnt and articulated.
It’s a parasite’s world
Where fear is fed with horror.
Where incompatibility and incompetency
Rule one’s hidden strength and power.
It's a parasite's world
where love lavishes in luxury
and 'Basic Instinct' given prowess
Suck out life from the 'highest of all species'.
.
i felt that
that special thing
boyz
like mine
engage
yup
that
that thump
that heavy damn
Bump
that
kisss
yessss
'til
yourn limbs split
'til
feverishly
yourn wriggle
baffles
mine
Bonjour mon amour
This is a peppermint persuasion
Occasion excellent ecstasy
Audacious illustrious elation
Spicy nicely give me more sweet
Freshly impress me please
Eroticlly stress me squeeze undress
Me by all means finesse me with
Your peppermint air with your
Blessed breath come into my
Atmosphere let me experience you
Peppermintly breathe release the
Best of you on me. If I touch you
Will you touch me too? Stroke me
With your tenderness delicately
Oohoo the escalation increases my
Need I beg you more, please!
Am I your peppermint pleasantry?
At least I am your exotic or neurotic
Eroticist peppermint dream. Your
Sweet fresh Salacious breath with
Your specialty in your flavorful
Feverishly fantasy peppermintly
Ecstasy extra peppermint permitted
Favorable fixation Flagrantly
Fanatical fantastic vision with this,
I say, Good night my heart. I will have
A peppermint patty dream of you
In my night ALWAYS AND FOREVER
IN MY SIGHT. Mon amour ma Belle.
Mon amour.
Anaemia
Who cares for her once glorious dreams
Utopia is the new reality
Dopamine-starved citizens gaze forlornly
As blood feverishly flows out
From her gaping wounds
Siamese twins of hunger and anger
Starving her of peace and progress
In a land of high Testosterone
Security gone AWOL
Citizens on their own
Slowly but steadily
Life ebbs out
Deprived of nutrients and water
Homeland turned fiefdom by renegades
Despising folks, they make foes
Pious laughter loosens frown
of frail freedom
Blood-sapping East wind
Turns grasslands into deserts
Bruised and beaten by the day
Body and soul in dread of dawn
Conquer battlefields of the mind
With riots of laughter
This Mephistophelian theatre
With broken social ligaments and
Ruptured moral tendons
Will one day get a transfusion of a new life
Or die slowly and solemnly
of Anaemia
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