Hiding himself away
For this unbettered cause.
To draw out what, more timid
Does in its own truth live.
Expression of soul. Through bard's
Conjuring, creative.
Seen as odd, now it seems
More occult, in this trick!
By whom no finer tingle
For receptivity
Crave but shock; its spectacle.
Who but live outwardly.
I have asked for directions
I should have followed the star
Is all about creating impressions
Saving love could have made lives mar
I couldn't present any gift
Yet, I acknowledge his love
I only give praises in shift
Despite, He keeps me a belove
Mary effortlessly risk her life
Which makes her subject of ridicule
Then many people roast her in laugh
Today all gives honor to her womb molecule
Joseph stood to the end
If not, she wouldn't have survived
What more to count on friend
After all, salvation wouldn't have arrived
His birth is wonderful
Owing to such environment
No one will deny it error full
What a well effective apportionment!
If you asked me if i was devoted?
If I was loyal?
If I was a servant of his orders?
I would agree without hesitation.
In the fiery depths that i dwell in,
the torturous circus of corpses,
the deep dark underground that I was banished to,
He is the light, he is my light, my love, my angel.
If you asked me if I loved him?
If I worshipped him?
If I treasured him, like he was the last remaining scrap of my soul?
I would agree, without hesitation.
He is my will to live, my purpose, my grace and, equally, my insanity.
I fell for him, in sword and flame, I fell.
Cast out and forsaken from a palace I'd once called home,
I fell for him, in sword and flame, in sweet agony, I burned.
If you asked me if I would trade the world for him?
If I would sacrifice myself for him?
If I would burn, strike the match myself, If i knew it would save him?
I would agree without hesitation.
Angels are made and taught to worship their gods,
to be devotees to a deity,
to be servants to a savior,
I fell, my wings are burned, halo cracked and dim,
but teachings are hard to forget when they're engraved,
So I'm fated to eternally worship him...
the pope
next
do the rich know
there is more poor
Viva revolting on
Contorting himself like a ball
He rolled all the way to the wall.
When asked as to why,
He’d simply reply,
“In moving this way, I won’t fall.”
Conceiving himself to be dead,
He leaped like a ghost from his bed.
But finding no wings
Supporting of things,
He fell like a mortal instead.
nothing spoils this surface view ~ see me
crave attention, gift empty touch
tonal mask veils flaws and vices
face alter ego and kneel
to feed the shallow shadow that circles
~ around gossamer tears of the grieving moon,
as silenced streaks of tongue-twisted lines,
undress a puddle of poisoned stars
pull force imperceptible, attraction
lost in blissful contemplation
comatose until that last equation
gravitational persuasion creating longing
but will the lake that flows with fears
thaw words tangled in golden chains?
for I’ve drowned in liquified lies,
drawing perfection from imperfect reflections
delve to the depths of my spun world
peripheral interference dissipates in darkness
only requirement is carved version of self
that steadies my hand and drags me in
sinking beneath Narcissus's polluted undertow
tainted oxygen leaves my expanding lungs
hitting jagged rocks, spoiled skin shreds,
exposing a forgotten empath ~ salvation rises
if he was half as witty as he thought
he would be making millions of dollars as a comic
he thinks he is a professional wisecracker
a train of witticisms travels out of his mouth
hitting anyone and everyone in the eye
quips, gags, jokes and jest are his daily tools
his relatives have tired of most of them already
.
not
not pneuma
whilst
are listening
'')
His reflection Mike saw in the pool.
"I could kiss myself I look so cool,"
bragged the boy, bending low.
In the pool he fell, so
what a wet kiss he got, the big fool.
river catfish is startled by a splash
he dives down into the lake
hitting the natural springs
unaware he made this loud noise
with his enormous flipper of a tail
Peculiar,
I caught you weeping,
On the side of the street,
To console you,
Is that up to me to be done?
I’d think to you
I'm just another person on the road
But in a world so everchanging
When trust is always broken,
And hope, never given
I don’t think I’ll be making the mistake
Of turning back
And gazing your eyes
Again
Wizard sat quietly without a word
Listening to the huddle of a witch named Bird
She had big plans that included him.
He’s a sneaky wizard, she said, old T. Jim.
Old T was enjoying the view, and the spying.
He could hear all of their plots, only half trying.
Glad he had transmogrified himself, he hopped away.
Planning his own surprise for the witch hags that day.
as a Congolese
patriot
burnt
himself to tell
the World about
more atrocities
in eastern DRCongo.
Some people astonished
Asking , " why?
why?
why? "
DRCongo is ignored
from many years.
No one cares about
the worst situation
in eastern
DRCongo
Which is always
pushed by monusco
and some western
companies.
many times Congolese
found different
mineral resources
In the blend jeeps
and tanks
Of monusco from
the red zones.
It was confirmed
By many Congolese that
they came in DRCongo
to steal not
for peace.
Barnyard gossip was a buzz
Old goat had snagged himself a young bride
Farmer Jones wiped off chicken fuzz
And promptly ran back inside
Come see! He told his wife. It’s true.
The bride wore white, she carried blue.
Other farmers came by to see.
Old goat made some kind of history.
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