No longer Bible does appear
The guarantee of truth
In court
No longer the presumption works
As guilty they're fact
No longer Jury can decide
I am off the Law Enforcement
For the Computation
Of the Military Pact
The Hitler broke the Diplomatic the Convention
Your tactical is tact
Your focal point
Do concentrate
You must be targeting your fire
Horizons your event
What's your intention's the desire?
You might be doing firearms for sport
But not for the collection of your arsenal
Civilian Defense?
Why selling rifles the assault
So freely as they are specific instruments of mine
There is military, there is civil sports
There are the rules of safety handling arms and fire
Control your own arms today
As war of Law now works with neuroscience
Cartoons for kids today exist for business so they would be buying
endlessness -
focal point
of her vacant stare
I wanted to tell you that I really am
I wanted inform the public
How could have we moved from the Plato, the Cave
Through christian sect, and the Hitler, and else, the Republic
Would you then respect my privacy
Or will you demand from me
You must be the self-sufficient
You must real reasons see
The monkeys don't have homeland
So that you may eat chocolate
What does you do not comprehend
I want to address focal point
What gives you such bias of value
Of lives of the masses of yours
I don't want to reach implications
I able well use the remorse
I wanted to tell you that I really am
I wanted inform the public
I don't think that social is fabric
If human made frequencies
Do contradict
The purpose of fields for collection of data
Mass energy equilibrium this
????? ????? ???? ??????
"The Devil's message"
--BlossomMonyei--
I have made money a focal point
Ambition is all you'll chase
You'll work hard just to live soft
I'll weaken your faith, trusting is of no use.
Beliefs differ
I had divided the world into segments of religions.
The truth hidden, a wolf in sheep's clothing.
My deception lots will fall for.
Pleasure, Ignorance, Wealth,
They'd stand in your way of knowing the truth.
Is there anyone that won't pay heed to these desires?
The world is mine and will stay under my devilish grin.
For the saved ones
I have no power over.
But being in this world they're still in my cage.
Beware, the devil's message.
#blossommonyei
#liberiapoetry
#WeeklyContest
Liberia Poetry Association.
Voice of Liberia-VOL
Ecstatic eye of night
thoughts tangled tangent
tint of orange moon
slivers were just hazy
incipient learned launch
as the querulous quirk
indented ingress idly
still desperate to capture
though less likely
lavishness connoting mood
human forest focal point
I dream in dribbles soppy
though never flagged yet
as futile aspiration amid
hues strictly night bound
might benefit wistfully
when strident slumber
indigenous to townscape
has its muted rippled
riddle not tactfully
resolved due to blind
daylight tinctured template
aroused by the clangour
of mint medley lure of
Arcadia circus dangle
of inchoate promise known
as crystal carrot jewellery
box whose flecks fly a riot
before the milling cluster
who wantonly wonder
at collapsing fortress inside
whilst rugged resilience
that tower block of prime
revitalised endeavour bent
on a fantasy forage with
disposition a pointless block
though underbody wobbles
if left without the widest
custodial watch of the self
one might be elated finally
Elephant Ear (Al-colocasia)
These large, vibrant leaves with a striking purple-red hue are the focal point of this lush garden display. The Elephant Ear plant, also known as Colocasia, is a tropical perennial known for its impressive, oversized foliage that can reach up to more than 3 feet (90 cm) in length.
Elephant Ear plant
Colocasia is so nice
purple-red calm hue
My short story continues with this insightful excerpt:
A Century Turns: Soviet Union's Life Expectancy: II
"A fictional perspective of articulating an ambitious nature that hinges on varied facts," ... by the Poet.
And now ... the school bell has rung. The park that he pleasures in both muscularity and mentality, ills in parity--in a nutshell--the school has taught him that the eraser is the better half of a pencil. It is always the seldom used that comes to the aid and heals the whole abused. That illuminating factor was his focal point that would encourage his future from the descension of the crown, and to the ascension of communism's embrace.
Love is a blank canvas, a phantasmagoric fantasy,
to pucker up with glossy lips, the subtle soft brush
against the opposite sex, with eye-shades drawn.
Love doesn’t know the body yet, still sizing it up.
It doesn’t know the femininity and masculinity of art.
O Leonardo…O Romeo…Ah Juliet…O Venus!
Love craves the parts that match up, some the same,
others staining the cheeks, straining and draining strength,
magnetic and quaking, erupting and earthshaking.
Love weakens knees, draws attention from the whiteboard,
sharpens the brilliance of the sun, dots the i’s with hearts,
Nearly breaks the blank canvas with its passionate volume.
This canvas sans focal point. Bubblegum pops, primroses
afloat with ribbons and strings, ponytail tugs, pastels and
honeysuckles. Swings way too high - the girl, the guy.
Our desires have brought us together,
Fate has brought us from our different worlds,
We have brought our disparate dispositions to a focal point,
We have intertwined our interests.
We have meandered and mended,
We have straightened and salvaged,
We have tailored and trimmed,
We still sojourn on this hope’s path.
Sometimes love’s lane could be clouded,
Sometimes love’s lane could be shrouded with stygian silhouettes,
Still, our love tunnelled through,
Its light found a place for our feet.
We have sailed tempestuous seas,
We have journeyed through the shrivelled meadow,
Our room has had its share of gloom,
Yet our love’s lane has emerged from the quagmire.
February 3, 2024.
Our family gatherings have always been filled with nostalgic glimpses into a much simpler life. A life shown to us young’uns through the many stories that would always be told of an old shack hidden from the world behind tall weeds, thick patches of blackberry brambles, and an old cedar tree that seemed to be the focal point of all the tales that started with I remember when. I always listened with a sort of awe as my brothers and sisters reminisced about walking backwoods paths, carrying water from the well, or hanging the laundry out to dry in the scent of summer wildflowers. It appeared that they lived in a time where politics, war, and hate were not the daily bread and money, greed, and desire were not all-consuming. Where life, love, and family were more than just words placed on a piece of paper.
The world is a place
where everyone lives in peace
only in my dreams
TREE:
A living thing I was; I graced your land-
three hundred years and more- I stood with pride.
A focal point to meet with friends to stand,
or drive through intersecting roads beside
the wall that sheltered me, your age-old tree-
assumed long-standing for eternity.
"The Heart of Balmville"- often, you called me;
so many grew up in my view's embrace.
COMMUNITY:
Inside your small historic park, you stood
for years preserved in your dear ancient wood.
Your statuesque magnificence, now gone;
our hearts are sad now missing your great limbs.
But with your stump, our memories hold on-
as images of leaves and branches dim.
We took for granted that your vision be
forever etched within this Balmville space.
TREE:
May "Heart of Balmville" live within your hearts-
I, Balmville Tree, at last, from you depart.
bloodshot deriving out of wide eyes conformed to the ceiling
ruby red polish accompany the nail
spritz of fragrance leaving behind an illusion of professionalism
receiving roses to give glad hand towards beauty
why is my allurement the focal point of my pitiful existence?
the roses molded
the incense faded
the varnish chipped away
the lids have found one another once again
awaken once more only to find that expression
Away from the noise,
Away from the city monsters,
Away from distractions.
Away from prying eyes.
Out of misplaced priorities,
Out of complacency's tentacles,
Out of troubled waters,
Out of webbed desires.
A time to exhale,
A time to dissipate the fog,
A time to rejuvenate,
A time to soul search.
A place to commune with nature,
A place to see me,
A place to glide through the tempest,
A place to channel all to the focal point,
A place to permute my thoughts.
July 17, 2022.
What if I whispered into your ear
My focal point
What if minimum wage was raised
According to the family size
What if more was spent on educating
Others about the importance of finance
And avoiding the deception of materialistic lies
Would this world in 4 years be a better place
What if no one ever made an effort
Would my words just go to waste
Is there ever going to be change
Will this country one day have a woman president
Opening up the dimensions of our imagination
What we saw 20 years ago couldn't be
Envisioning change for everyone to have a fair
Opportunity
Is my focal point.
Red moon rising over ice-covered peak
No warming sun to charge my thermal wear
A glacial bleakness brings blush to my cheek,
Red moon rising over ice-covered peak
Focal point in desolate landscape, so to speak,
Helping me to understand the meaning of bare
Red moon rising over ice-covered peak
No warming sun to charge my thermal wear.
Written May 15, 2022
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