Where stray sheep lie
Hazy pastures in the misty morning grey,
With dreams like dew drops on each blade.
We graze upon the meadow on the dawning day, in plains we once forbade.
We shepard no one unto their slumber,
For we ourselves are lost.
And when us strays must go under, our souls must weigh the cost.
Good little lambs are counted against the stars, but not the ones who've gone astray.
We go where the stray sheep heal their scars, the hazy pasture in the misty morning grey.
God’s creation dispenses comforts.
Many of man’s creation deliver frets.
AI, the weapon of the wisest,
Adds no more cognizance to the existing.
Don’t assume it a dumb servant.
It will take us under its authority.
There will be a pandemonium as
The reality would go under the covers of falsity.
One day, the whole world will seek a philosopher's help
Ethics, values, and logics of life will be the new lessons.
Creation of technology is all right.
Let it not be a cremation of human threads.
Place: 1st
It's hard-
when everyone assumes
that you're okay.
When you're not-
you never have been.
You say what they want to hear,
even when it's a lie.
Because you're afraid
of what they might think.
Whatever you think that might be-
you're wrong.
Trust me.
I've been there.
And if they do think like that,
know this:
they don't deserve someone
as good as
you.
Every time you repeat that phrase-
I'm okay,
you sink deeper
and deeper
and deeper,
until you're stuck
in the quicksand.
Eventually,
your head will go under.
And all hope seems to have disappeared.
forever.
But then comes a hand,
pulling you out of your quicksand.
Struggling,
but never
letting go.
Then there are more.
So many hands.
They crowd around you, searching for a grip,
and lift
until
you begin
to rise.
Up.
There is not always rain
Along with the thunder
There is not always bite
Along with the bark
There is not always oxygen
When we go under
Not always a devil
Along with the dark
But we can always count on,
Along with the sorrow,
Laughter and joy joining this life
We can always count on,
Along with the blood shed,
Somewhere, a sharp wicked knife
We can always count on
These weapons of warfare
Harmless until held in our hands
We can always count on
Having our fair share
The wicked intent of mortal man
There will be a rainbow
Along with the thunder
Along with the lightning
The still waters of night
There will be such beauty
After all blows asunder
Along with the blindness
A great, glorious sight
Not that Jack and Jill
Jack took Jill up the hill
On the pretext of fetching water
But the need for some weed
Was a far more pressing order.
The hill was all green with flowers asunder
When they lit the pipe so they could go under
Jack inhaled deeply and spied Jilly with a posy
She took the pipe and took it in till her cheeky were rosy
They lay a while, and closed their eyes, the birds all chirps and singing
The clouds floated and bobbed their beards as weed and ecstasy collided
The sky was bluer, the grass greener, the air fresher as senses imploded.
Another puff, eyes closed, and images dance in the gentle breeze
As clouds part, God appears, staff in hand, smiling with ease.
All sounds are dappled, all objects move slowly, deliberately
If your'e going to preach it brother.? Hit-em with the Gospel
For its like no other; Spell' Speak of mercy..And the flames of hell' and ring out the message like a ten ton bell.' Tell the truth
'The world is round' like Isaiah shouted.' He really went to
Town.' Also the village for that to matters.' No doubt giving
The matrons a feast of natters.' Yes tell of the King! With a
Sceptre of iron.' Ruler of Nations the one so much better,' by
Leaps and leauges.' Yet a donkey His steed! the pharisees bane.' He allowed them to keep their greeds.' Yes preach of
Life and tbe riches of God.' To all those destined to go under
The sod.' Some clerics may repent.?To turn away? from the
Gasp-ell of death they gasp out today.' Nothing is new as
Solomon put.' Just whitewashed tombs on top thats it.' The
Bones of this matter.' Wont be raised at all.' Who have gasp-ed
Out the message of slavery and thrall.' Its hotter than this
Poem.'The place they must go.' If you don't want to join them 'just let Jesus know.'
The division
Here in this landscape of bushes and crippled trees
the grotesque peace of daylight ghosts
grey boughs stretching upward appeal to a soundless god.
“Give us today a new life.” There is only one deity
the almighty one, go under the name of Silvanus.
Those who do not understand this are doomed to
a life of empty pursuit of pleasures.
Crowded nightclubs and casinos, people trying not to be alone
in the night and face the truth
we are mortals and infrequently remembered as a photo
a black frame, seeing you, seeing through
you and into an ever-expanding void.
Never let age deter your Life's Purpose and blessings. You're part of the Universe's greatness. Blessings, Love and Light.
Part of the Universe's greatness
By Michelle Morris
05/09/2024
As I edge ever closer to the time
That I was born
I get to reflect back upon
This mantle that I have worn
Over fifty years
I've lived and learned
Loved and lost
Grown and burned
It can seem strange
To the inexperienced eye
Who miss the glint
Of mischief and smiles
But within each elder
Is a young, wild sprite
Exuberant and playful
Ever hopeful, never doubting
It's important to remember
To make age a mere number
For we are all eternal
And our Souls never go under
For we remain starlight
Stardust and miracles
Part of the Universe's greatness
A sight to behold
We fly up, up and away
Never giving up on our True path
Focussing on creative delights
Knowing we share One Heart
© Michelle Morris, 2024
A moonchild under moon shadow,
hiding in the dark side of the
moon or darkness of the night, why?
Come out, come out and go under
the moonlight and see the bright
stars twinkling, like specks of gold
all over the clear night sky, pure
black like a soft warm blanket to
comfort you and make you feel
safe … hush now … shhhh …
If you dig six feet under and then go under the coffin and right before you get to hell you will find what's left of my smile
I once wore my smile like the joker dripping with bloody tears
But this isn't one of my sad poems because it's not about what I lost but what's still left
Because my concrete interior from all the hard times can still let the softness of a flower breathe
I will no longer suffocate from self-sabotage
So, watch me turn this smirk of pain into a Texas smile born in Tennessee
Country heart that lives the city
You can have the best of both worlds when becoming a 10 isn't about being perfect
But finding the one weakness where you have zero confidence and adding it to consistency for the best results
I will survive because I was born for a purpose beyond my feelings
I will be strong because the past doesn't define me, but it did shape my future carving away the roadblocks into a marble sculpted rose
Now joined with optimistic company
p.s. I wear my smile like a bouquet of roses watered by perspective...
“I'm ready to go anywhere
I'm ready for to fade
Into my own parade
Cast your dancing spell my way
I promise to go under it”.....Quote by Bob Dylan
I AM A STRANGER HERE without you
I CAN'T EXPLAIN why
I walk through this RING OF FIRE
WHERE THE NIGHTIME IS THE RIGHT TIME-
when out of the darkness I SHALL BE RELEASED
from the uncertainty of my struggle
There are 500,000 souls here
with one voice of peace and love, and I…
am finding my voice in Neverland-
intensely running in the circles of my irreverence
to create the chords within the tunes…
my music - my rhythm – my soul
my words to change the world
Looking to my orator of this brotherhood
MR. TAMBOURINE MAN,
the designated ghost of my hope
hammering the jingling beat
that shackled my feet to follow
this haunting melody inside me
where I am the master of my freedom
But…
You are my song of songs,
YOU ARE AS GOOD AS YOU'VE BEEN TO THIS WORLD,
the hand I hold to walk in this light
lingering sweetly in the HIGH TIME
of my experimental chaos
that I so fiercely hold onto
within the bosom of my art
that rages ALL ALONG THE WATCHTOWER
of my soul
MY DARLING BE HOME SOON
My favorite soup is my own invention
It has no name, but it is a combination
Navy beans and ham, sliced potatoes,
Onions with lots of salt and pepper.
Cornbread is a necessiity, to go under it.
If you have honey and horseradish, add it.
To the soup or the cornbread?
I do not care, both. Corn must be added too.
I almost forgot that part. It is my favorite soup, but it has no name.
Double standards is a thing
Judge all the judgments you’ve been judging
And you who calls others “unfair”
Will find it hard to bear
That you are perpetrating victims
Whose thoughts clash with your very dreams
Going and coming around is a real event
And in the wake of the latter you term it “different.”
Scampering for whatever grace you could find
Arguing to the farthest beacon of your mind
It’s a hard and large bite to chew
When you yardstick comes back to haunt you
But also sacred law is too a thing
If a cord be a cord don’t accord it to be a string
Going once, going twice will only go under
Let what goes for the goose go for the gander
Speak it in the air
And act so just and fair
K. Muitherero
Wednesday was your least favorite day and you died on a Wednesday.
After living for sixty-four years, you became sick and you passed away.
The eleventh anniversary of your death is on your least favorite day of the week.
I thought things were fine at first but then I learned that your situation was bleak.
When you went to the hospital, you had to go under the knife.
The surgeon tried his very best but he could not save your life.
He operated on your stomach and your leg had to be amputated.
But you still died and when I found you dead, I was devastated.
When I learned you were terminal, it was hard to understand it.
Rest in Peace, Mom, you were the greatest mother on the planet.
[Dedicated to Agnes Johnson (1948-2013) who passed away 11 years ago today on March 6, 2013]
Time might silence awe and wonder,
Despite loss, I won’t go under,
Because I know One who won’t leave,
Praise rises from souls who believe.
Time might destroy my heart’s delight,
But there He is, shining so bright,
He’s the Light who will not deceive.
Praise rises from souls who believe.
Time might tempt me to just give up,
Still, I’ll keep drinking His grace cup.
To Jesus, my love, I will cleave.
Praise rises from souls who believe.
Timeless is this love I receive.
Praise rises from souls who believe.
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