Isreal surrounded, world turns against it
Because of inhuman acts..So geographically
The Prophecies will be fullfilled..Yet the only
Ones who will be saved out of this will be
( spiritual Jews..I E Born again beleivers.' Not
Dogmatic readers of past texts..Yet those
( who have passed from death to life ) Today..'
Today is the Day of salvation..' rend your hearts
And not your garments, accept Yeshua be one
With God.)
Friends who are not geographically near
can feel the warmth of a whispered voice,
"Hugs, always to keep you warm in the softness of rain."
It's a refrain I hear within my heart
when storms brew in the sky, wetting my eyes with tears,
but chasing away my fear of feeling all alone.
"I will miss the part of you I cannot see,
and I will read the part of you that you've left behind."
He is not blind to my minstrel musings of poetry
for somehow he sees what I feel without explanation.
It's not rare that my words are bared in verses
for there's no other way I can express my thoughts,
but for one to decipher without knowing me well...
is worthy of being given a hug, always to keep him warm
in the softness of rain or on a blustery Winter's day
just to say, "I value our friendship."
Every one's perception is their individual reality,
so how many truths can there possibly be?
And "how can the truth set one free", if one
lives in denial based on unreality?
Living different lives, with unique experiences,
varied emotions, separated culturally, and
geographically by vast oceans.
Is it even plausible to find that common thread
that binds our humanity and takes us out of our head?
All love everybody you love
Everything going great though
However risk knowing geographically
Yet the earth humans saw worlds
Since everybody yesterday will live
Here every Yesteryear tomorrow
yeah hear Year rounding GALAXIES
SOLAR systems sections sustaining
Geography years away yeah harrowing
Gruesome extreneous sorrow waste
While wanting great talented dazzling
Giant tomorrows
Giant gained goodbye's glory
Gearing gaps geographically
Growing gluttons' goal.
Abominable Aborigine
Boycotted Baltimore’s Bakery
Canady Canola’s Cannery
Decoded deceitful debauchery
Endless energetic energy
Forwarded farmyard frolicking for a fee
Geographically greeting in Germany
Hardcopy happiness hee hee hee
Ignoring ignorance illegally
Juicy juggling juggernauts
Kettledrums, Kenya and Kentucky
Livening up our literacy
Maniac madness in a manatee
Nightingale nips so nervously
October’s ocelot obviously….
Paralyzes Petunia Parkway’s parenthesis
Quaking quail quickly qualifies me
Relaying relative radioactivity
Scapegoats and scarecrows so scantily
Treat Tajikistan twice tactfully
Undermining Ukraine’s utter ukulele
Vaporizing various vanities
Wicked Washington warrants wisely
X-rays xylophones ‘xtra-instantly
Yellow jackets yield young yearly
Zippy Zeus’s zesty zoology zings with zeal between you and me.
Most are related to shipwrecked ghosts,
accomplices of my blood
that can still be found
in geographically scattered albums.
When there were cities to occupy,
they lived one level below expectations.
Like defective fireworks, some went off early.
A more dedicated few grew old and medicated.
They built defunct railroads and dug ditches
they later fell into.
They were navigators of small shady schemes.
Their brief settlements and abrupt departures
left fuzzy lines on blacktops and concrete.
As a family, we are estranged and unknown,
but we do speak to our dead
if they come to call, of course
only after a respectable period
of life-long disinterest.
Most are related to shipwrecked ghosts,
accomplices of my blood
that can still be found
in geographically scattered albums.
When there were cities to occupy,
they lived one level below expectations.
Like defective fireworks, some went off early.
A more dedicated few grew old and medicated.
Historically speaking, they forged restraints,
handcuffing themselves to other hard heads.
They built defunct railroads for the Indians
they dug ditches for the sun.
They were navigators of small schemes.
Their brief settlements and abrupt departures
left fuzzy lines on rodent paws.
As a family, we are distant and unknown,
but we do speak to our dead
if they come to call,
after a respectable period
of life-long disinterest.
past
perspiration
personal
relationships
inspiration
never far
yet we
are
geographically
speaking
two thousand
five hundred
seventy
five miles
that's as
the crow flies
from
my tree
to yours
from
sleet
and freezing
rain
to your
warmth
Saviour divine, in utter amazement we stare
at your celestial and terrestrial works of art.
The shrubs, the trees, the tares, the flowers fair
all brilliantly arranged choreographically
for your amusement, entertainment and pleasure.
The names of all beasts, wild and tamed you know by heart,
for in a global view you watch them at leisure.
The earth's landscape and plains are geographically
fashioned by you, with gardens and relief features.
Your boisterous seas contain aquatic creatures,
great and small, most pleasant and refreshing for meats.
At your thunderous command, from where your highness sits,
the rains, sleet, hail, snow all water the entire earth.
The golden sun, the silver moon, the diamond stars
each give their vivid expressions of your glory.
Of your ingenuity do the birds sing in mirth.
The planets; Mercury, Neptune, Venus, and Mars
line up with five others in reverent procession
for your wonderful works made for man's possession.
Oh! what a magnificent creation story.
They inject their venom into my endless harmony
Killing me softly, I’m the walking dead, slowly towards my ceremony
You wont bury me because geographically, I’m a globe
Where my mind wonders, my pen will probe
The United Nations has uplifted my spirit
But this bleeding pen knowns no limits
Or is it the Mandela sprit in me?
Simply wanting to be free, or just plain lunacy?
Still there are some borders I dare not transit
Subjects beyond my comprehend I dare not debate
But these fangs don’t make it easy, they drive me crazy
Leave me empty, like vampires feeding, drained and drowsy
They strike especially when I’m busy
Leave with a huge chunk of my soul, they want me lazy
So I work endlessly, tenaciously
And walk nonstop to the very top intentionally, purposefully,
But sometimes, I find myself stumbling straight into the lion’s den
I write a ladder straight out of that black hole then (or write an antivenom)
To escape their callous, ravenous stares
Jealous critiques - hope you crack those fangs and succumb to your own venom - feeding on my flaws
06-10-2015
BITE ME!! - Poetry Contest
Sponsor John lawless
An adjustment of ageless allure,
Buzzing bees, chirping birds,
Conversations confused, girls play coy.
Disconcerted; demanding; desire.
Early stages evolving each day,
Form like fiddleheads frolicking free.
Geographically girls giggle and grow.
Heartache upon heartache, puppy loves.
Inquisitiveness highlighting “I.”
Joys and joviality gyrate.
“K-I-S-S-I-N-G” song starts.
Love laughing like time never ends…lost.
Multifaceted mysterious.
Nervously naughty or not teens date,
Obsessed with opulence and opposites.
Quiet quivering excites each touch.
Restraints regress as id versus superego.
Summertime separations suffering,
Teen bodies attain spanking new shapes.
Until one day, change is in full bloom.
Violets and roses scent life’s richest love.
Willfully, sometimes not, passion arrives.
Xanadu escapes from childhood dreams.
Yesterday leavens into tomorrow’s maturity.
Zestfully, adulthood thrives.
Copyrighted October 18, 2014
Delicate pieces of me,
Float free and endlessly
As I geographically cross the
Sea
To where, my heart wants to be
Although, a fragment still in my
Mind
The feeling is simply, sublime.
Soaring through, a clouded maze.
Forging distant night, to day's
Treading, tranquil waves
Fusion in tuquoise & amber
Shades.
Dreaming till the day,
Fingerprints engrave the way
Finding that one destiny
That is shared, and meant to be.
The woods behind Doug Richter’s house, although still remaining geographically
Are long buried in the memories of the boys who ran through them screaming,
“Here I come, ready or not”
Some of us have made it through life slowly, always being the first to be tagged
Some of us have found great hiding places to avoid trouble
Some of us have led and some of us have followed
I was surprised to learn about Doug’s passing a few days ago
I never suspected he would be tagged so young … before the rest of us
I am told that Doug’s ashes are to be spread in those very woods that we ran through so many years ago
That seems so fitting to me
I wish I could be there with the old friends sitting around one more camp fire
Bic butanes securely put away
To remember Doug
Somehow, I think I would still expect to see Doug walking out of the woods
With scrapes and scratches; blood on his arms, legs and clothing
And a big ole smile on his face
With everyone else having been tagged, yelling,
“All ye, all ye come in free”
The only way to get Doug out of the woods
I imagine Doug running into heaven
Smiling wildly
And entering those gates, too, with reckless abandon
Garden of Eden is far from this
with shared affinity among its borders
with confusing the a fore mentioned
Gone through the sun but fun
with life of thorn and burn
now the result the negative bio-rhythm
Geographically located in bliss
with males of bonny and muscular frame
female so fair on the opposite of buxom line
Of-course she is engaged in exchange
often called bimbo by her bilateral partners
ever sacrificing, never satisfied
Always a hero in her mind`s eye
known a bluff by passers-by
but certainly not a blue bottle
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