670.
The 5th Period of the Independent Era of Philippine History:
The 3 Congregations
At the time of the great convergence of regions into 1 strong nation
And the great coalescence of nations into 1 powerful region
A histrionic assembly of great religions takes place
A dramatic gathering never before in the history of human race
The Religions of Abraham
Judaism, Christianity, Islam
Altogether sing a song of glory
To the One God Almighty
The Religions of India
Those of Guru Nanak, Mahavira & Krishna
Altogether sing a song of glory
To the One God Almighty
The Religions of Caodaism
Buddhism, Taoism, Confucianism
Altogether sing a song of glory
To the One God Almighty
This is the 5th Period of the Independent Era – The 3 Congregations
They come together with Baha'is & other 1 God religions
This is the Divine Coalition that fosters harmonious unity
God shows in the Philippines that He is the One God of humanity.
-05/31/2019
*Periods on the Eras of the Philippine History
Naughty but not nasty.
Cheeky but not rude.
Innocence, ere what blushes
Darker for each face.
Hyper, histrionic
But not unstable.
The youngster, ere what runs, bawls
In complete disgrace.
Bucolic frolic or supersonic & demonic
Alcoholic demands in the stands vitriolic
Iconic rollick or quite simply HEADonic
England so shambolic at fans’ behest
So chronic plans for a Baz Ball inquest
Ironic still curious why the rest are furious
Spurious contest they know which way’s best
Histrionic tease they jest please don’t be a pest
Scorn who’ve worn the Lions crest on their chest
Suggest fire’s the ire…ferocity of pomposity detest
Tire of dire quagmire but we’re blessed with a zest fest
Everyone complains about the vain inane campaigns
Disdain of the stain of their refrain just won’t restrain
Pain again explain is plain what does pertain to a Test
Ashes conquest no longer a contest our own Everest
We frown they clown around go to town double down
How very dare you review from your pew not impressed
We guessed they quickly confessed only one way remains
We’re profane..they’re insane our hopes down the drains
They insult with this cult as Baz Ball without Brains reigns.
How many books, songs, poems and movies have been created
on the supposition that love is complicated?
Within their writings flows this message…
sometimes histrionic…sometimes understated
that, if it’s simple…it can’t be love…because love is complicated.
Example after example is given to prove their point with certainty
but there are others of us out here who look at love and beg to disagree.
For us love is as simple as realizing we are not alone…
that someone else’s happiness is more important than our own.
There are those of us whose hearts and minds have joyfully come to see
it is life that can be complicated…
but love doesn’t have to be.
Oh the humanity
the humanity
Oh spare me the grief
thy fake tears
woe is me, mentality
syrupy behaviour
Munchausen propensity
it sticks between my teeth
Oh spare me the pathos
ham acting baloney
Phoney and pathetic
pennyroyal tea fatigue
Histrionic vagaries
self righteous piety
Oh spare me the maudlin
attention seeking thievery
Drowning in poignancy
sentimental molasses
Throw yourself to the floor
overdosing in twee
Oh spare me forever
stomach churning violins
emotional instability
Wallowing in saccharine
exaggerated sob stories
But most of all
the absence of apology
Sentimentality Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Julia Ward
25/05/22
Historic flood
There are a few unread books on me
bookshelf and they will stay that way
I needn’t everything in print.
My depression hangs in the landscape
streaks on dusty window panes tell me
the obvious: clean me now!
I wait for the pharmacy to open after
the lunch break, hope it is not full of women
talking about pills, illnesses and diets.
I’m not watching TV today I need not
to know more about the storm everyone
talks about, I have seen it worse.
Soon I will be stopped by a hero telling
me he was in New York during the histrionic
storm which made the governor famous.
The apothecary should be open now
better hurry and don´t worry
what the afternoon newspaper prints.
I feel broken, incapacitated
This Migraine Disease has stolen
So much time from my life
But also the relationships
So many cannot cope
With someone with chronic pain
So we become unworthy
Slowly people lose touch
Or some create stories
To fit their agenda that
We don’t fit into anymore
We are not believed
We are histrionic
No one can have chronic pain that long
If we are lucky, we may have a few
Mostly our favorite Doctor, or a friend
That really truly get it but
It’s few and far between
Our families cannot cope
Because were broken
Unable to function in their world
So what were left is the loneliness
Of chronic pain
Let alone the pain
Our hearts are torn apart
As we
Become
Discarded.
By Mark Miller 11/08/2017
Play of conflict snare trauma
Beat's drum-head hold drama
Soulful histrionic perfection
Behind rear view devotion
Of hostel trap left hours and
Stricken rabble memoirs band
Vowing to love each other true
Punching in at chaotic shape hue
Disrobe a hate fueled romance
In a strange loop ignorance
Discovering our nothing invention
Meeting in chimneys label ashen
Starring below I send telegram
To agency Ground Control
Wonder why so many had to cry
I guess they never got to say goodbye
Shine on my shine.
I'll take a double portion.
Who claps for me?
So there, you have it!
Never build a case
against yourself.
Lest, one forgets his own,
histrionic, self-defeating issues.
Shine on my shine,
you bandits!
You can't have
it all.
I'll be the one,
to gloss it all over again.
So pay attention,
and pay me.
Pay me now!
Shine on my shine.
Dear,
Maiden with two babies
Devoured by its own histrionic intelligent delusion
Of wings and air
You got ragged
It might be true, but
Go pack your paraphernalia
Inside the box as square as your mindset
I speak and you did and nobody else knows what we said
Them surmissing,
Isn’t that what you want?
Perfect.
And we will never meet.
Historic flood.
There are a few books unread on my
bookshelf and they will stay that way,
I needn´t read everything…printed.
My depression hangs in the landscape
streaks on dusty window panes tell me
the obvious: clean me now!
I wait for the pharmacy to open, after
lunch break, hope it is not full of women
talking about pills, illnesses and diets.
I´m not watching TV today I need not
know more about the storm every one
talks about…man, have I seen it worse!
Soon I will be stopped by a hero telling
me he was in NY during the histrionic
storm that made a governor legendary.
The apothecary should be open now,
better hurry and I don´t have to worry
what the newspapers say.
Attention seeker
Peforms for the audience
Craving accolades
Blinding ignorance
Refusing to admit defeat
To even yourself
Delusions of grandeur
Clouds your judgment
Hypnotizing the embryonic conscience
That you proclaim to possess
No epiphany
Continuing to live as the hero
That you pretend to be
Denying the existence
Of the villain that owns
Your narcissistic soul
Loosing your angels, one by one
Cascading down like dominos
Falling over until nothing remains
Numb inside
Cannot reciprocate the love
Bestowed on you
Your attempts at imitation
Just a desperate measure,
A histrionic demonstration of emotions
That your heart is incapable of feeling
Vacancy engulfs the hearts
Of those who live only for themselves
Your selfish heart
Thrives on twisted manipulation
Shattering the beautiful innocence
Of the guardian seraphim
That watch over you
Forever tarnishing the purity
That was my love for you
Now you're life knows only loneliness
Wallowing in emptiness
Until your very last breath
Ask Nothing of this World
What is this?
What sleek retribution is held within the
Slightest movement on the soil?
What slim issues stance is almost broken
In cadence and cascade?
Words shall leave the senses blind,
Enough, time will find a healing balm for
Eye to seize the day, when all in dreams must
Fade; oh, this is not a sadness offered; this is not the final cut of circumstance; for
yes, my fellow’s dreams are sharp, yes their corners are folded clarity; all plans are
Squared away this day; all is smooth and proper in
Some ceremony of guilt and pleasure – but low a lasting treasure is found beyond such rituals,
Such histrionic poses; beyond your comprehension –
A gift which beats a pulsar tympani – as angels moan
In symphony to herald the coming of His summation;
His fingers on the moon, unseen tendrils tug the axis
of the universe toward a sanguine moment…
Shout this Brothers!
True!
His fiber strands withstand all trauma, his nightly dream,
Your daily drama to give your heart a twirl,
To ask nothing of this world.
Illuminating purity
Radiating a luminous shine
Capturing the hearts
Of spectators
Leaving delicate imprints behind
Tainted love
Darkens the light
Histrionic superiority
Suffocates the rebuttal
Injustice reigns so arrogantly
Defiantly removing my security
Mirror reflecting
Secret sins from the past
No clemency
No compassion
Just eternal damnation
In your kingdom
Though pieces of my soul
Are dying every waking hour
Here I remain
Imprisoned in Stockholm
Worshipping my captor
Erased from existence
Reminiscence only a tribute
To a dream that died long ago
Roaming the cemetery
To find myself again
Suicidal blindness
Living for a fairytale
That is dead
Metamorphosis in Sweden
Means I am no more
© 2008 Courtney Dyer
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