At first, she dreamed in mirrored light,
Mistaking shimmer for the sun —
She called the shadow holy night,
And thought the wound was love begun.
The mask adored, the heart obeyed,
Till truth, like thunder, split her trance;
She saw the role her soul had played —
The healer caught in circumstance.
Then silence came — not death, but birth,
A quiet deeper than despair;
She met the dark within her worth,
And found her Self already there.
No savior left, no beast to fight,
No wish for vengeance or control —
She stood, at last, in her own light,
The union of a once-divided soul.
Jealousy is not the portion of the unsuccessful alone;
even the prosperous are consumed with envy.
Jealousy is not the lot of the poor;
even the wealthy are corrupted with spite.
Jealousy is not the flaw of the worldly alone;
even the religious carry it behind sacred veils.
Jealousy is not the preserve of the unlearned;
even the educated are not spared its poison.
Jealousy is not the garment of the uncivilized;
even the well-travelled are ensnared by it still.
If jealousy be the final stage into witchery,
then no wonder even the exalted cast the darkest spells.
Ice is a strong force of nature.
Cold and gleaming from within.
Held by no law or direction.
Just a fanciful brain,
Seemingly a twin.
Reminds me of history, not so long ago.
Men in brown shirts on the go.
Stamping to an order that will not last.
No real joy,
Just fear in their grasp.
Too families as planes fly past.
Ice when it changes to water,
Flows on past.
Brings destruction and fear.
While people hold on to beliefs that should cheer.
"We are citizens,
We belong here!"
As men in masks draw near.
Water in its final stage is vapor,
As it ages.
Brave, nonviolent Citizens,
Stand firm and cause a route.
Watching ICE turn to vapor,
As the sun comes out.
I amm incensed apalled; outraged as an intended blanket Un-law approaches its final stage.' where is the backbone?
Oh Victoria fair.' Is it truly lacking? What are you allowing?
Down there.' You seem only to loose.' And give away.? Yet
You have come to the point.' As to whats the point? All must say? Your lives are next.' And the very soul of a (once
Famous state) now WAKE UP BE BOLD!! treat this as you
Did ' the voice' just stand together its a simple choice.'
Stand for your elders who in con-vid died for your chidrden
Harmed.' Search for some hestro-pride.' Support the warriors there are many still 'dig in diggers' and hold your
Hill.! Speak the truth and honour all your brave fallen.!
Show the country and the world. That you are all; going
All in!
They say the last stage of grief is acceptance,
the most difficult stage.
The moment we acknowledge that they are gone forever.
That they're never returning.
I have not reach this stage yet,
as how am I meant to live my life without him by my side.
How?
Born in December on a cold winter’s day
I was baptised a Christian without any say
My life given direction before I could walk
A school then chosen before I could talk
I went through communion and was soon confirmed
In my inner cocoon I wriggled and squirmed
I advanced through school to the final stage
Soon after that I was earning minimum wage
I lost that job and ended up in university
Spending years later enduring much adversity
I married and worked until I was told to retire
My life force consumed like a ravenous vampire
I sit here a widow, my kids flown the nest
Patiently I wait for my eternal rest
I spent my best days in the passenger seat
I now well up in tears as my life’s all but complete
I feel like I’ve never truly had much of a say
Just putting my head down day after day
It took twenty more years until my heart gave in
Finally it’s time to get me out of this skin
We save some money, if we can,
So when we’re up in age,
We’ll have enough to get us through
That final “elder” stage.
To me, that always meant that I’d
Be set for life to spend
On all the things I love to do
Right up until the end.
But lawyers talk of nursing homes
Or live-in help or worse
And all my hard-earned savings
Someday might just pay a nurse.
Instead of using money
To get through old age with ease,
I’d much prefer to exit
A la Thelma and Louise.
Today I saw a dragonfly emerge
From final stage of metamorphosis.
I see his four fine wings opening out,
Their silver lace lit by the midday blaze.
To see each works, he takes some time to test.
Seems that he can control them one by one.
Each one having its own mechanism.
The time has come and suddenly he’s off.
This sets my mind wond'ring and asking how,
Without flying lessons from his parents,
He knows just what to do at the right time.
Hundreds of actions done in split second.
How can this be without any training?
Decisions made with no experience.
Some dismiss this and say it's just instinct.
In other words they haven’t got a clue.
Perhaps his brain receives vital data.
From higher consciousness that controls all.
Scattered thoughts
from different places,
the attempt,
fill empty spaces.
Words arranged
and organized,
if thinking stops,
you're paralyzed.
Convey your meaning
with good intention,
readers choice for comprehension.
Final stage, is to be,
post the poem,
for all to see.
My fate past death and judgment of my soul
stirs up deep thoughts more often as I age.
Will promises beyond life's final stage,
well-shaped by faith, grant Heaven as my goal?
I dream I died- the darkness is so still-
but suddenly swirls into beams aglow
that sweeps me up on rays of boundless flow
into the mist of God's almighty Will.
With Him, I feel dear loved ones and their glee
embrace my soul, and with no voice- appear
to speak in silence, sensing my replies-
as angel spirits too, now welcome me.
I wake at peace with closure to my fear.
With God, I'll be, as my strong faith implies.
Fire...Slow cooks the entire kill
Charred body snap skin peeled
Wind..The blowing away of men
Souls disappearing only to haunt once again
Earth...Buried six feet above our birth
Listening with the eyes seeing what it's worth
Water...To help clean out all the dirt
A life full of pain yet still nothing hurts
Time...Running out yours and mine
Leaving bones behind dropped by yellow spines
Space...Running out of in this place
Final stage new galaxy now the alien race
Past...What the future forgets too fast
Starting at the beginning but still never lasts
Life...Sufferings breath kissed the knife
Blood spills red droplets pool in the pale moonlight
bmdavey@10/19/2022
If you plant dummy politicians
in the field of politics,
you will just feed on
decaying policy or corruption
the result is inevitable,
individual adaptation,
dramatic rises
in conspicuous consumption
social destruction,
and eruption,
the final stage,
reconstruction
She is realizing now that,
Destiny had to take its course.
Her final stage of metamorphosis.
The caterpillar had to die,
To free the butterfly.
Her time has come.
To spread her wings and fly.
Negativity falling on deaf ears.
Embracing her life without fears.
Breaking free from all her insecurities,
Receiving with grace her blessings.
She has the wind under her wings,
Helping her to reach her dreams.
Sunrays bathing her face.
Giving her light for the darker days.
As fragile people think, she is,
She has a lioness personality.
The heroine of her story.
She slayed dragons victoriously.
Bold and brave she can say,
I can face challenges any day.
I saw, indeed, aside a Sisyphus – stone
A lonely old little daisy standing alone
Fading and dying and nearly decaying
Closer to the brink of its grave bending
In her heart seemed a caterpillar, hanging
Suffering its final stage of pupating
Chrysalis cocooning grasping rasping
Jumping, humping and its fluid-pumping
Fast, haste, rapid, relentless, impatient
Fluent, steady, stringent, persistent
The start of its life, it appeared
Could, rather, be its utter end
It really did not want to die
Rather, it yearned to survive
This was the great reason why
Its undergoing tensions high
All these difficulties struggles and strives
Pains and agonies and agitations
Struggling, striving, senile suffering
Death, resurrection and life-giving
It emerged into a beautiful butterfly
And flew away above in the colorful sky
What a meticulous metamorphosis!
Birth-death-resurrection life-synthesis!
The clever ones are tightening nets
'Round the neck of the masses
who
swim in the mist of
overconfidence
under a flimsy umbrella called faith.
The blood net is closing fast
soon the masses will panic
thrashing into one another
like mad stars swirling
then devoured
by massive black holes
called deception.
They'll be winched onto the deck
hooked -then stripped of amendments
steaked -put on display
yellow fins buried in mass graves.
Extinction being the final stage.
Their obit will read;
lived freely until death stripped them of
APATHY.
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