You thought the application was the hardest part
Without actions you have to share your heart
While your talking you're wishing to read their mind
Are their thoughts of you nice, pleasant or unkind
Why do we have to be interrogated just for a job
By looking at me you can't tell if I'm a lazy slob
Yes I'm nervous and shaking trying to impress you
My words and experience is all what's going to make do
Don't judge my past actions and mistakes
Please i was young then, give me a break
Your chance is in their hands no matter what you say or do
I think we all have felt this way when going on an interview.
Hello Goldie,
why are you hiding my sweet girl ?
I am afraid that I am an orange freak,
afraid to whirl and twirl.
Oh Goldie you are beautiful and so unique,
so, swim and swirl with celestial mystique !
Yes, though a baby goldfish,
in this aquariam I am going to gleefully swish !
"Tell me, Purple, do you envy your sisters?
Do they envy you in the shy morning mist? "
“Pink-Dawn and Day-Blue, both cheerful and pretty,
paint the wide sky in sunlit visions.
I bruise the clouds and make them weep
with rain - to turn the grasses green.
I envy them not, nor they me.
We each take turns to paint the scene.
And sometimes, at the edge of days,
see us together: Purple, Pink and Blue and Gray!”
Written By: D. Collins 5/7/25
Mr. President, you have a bitcoin run by your family.
Wouldn’t that be the definition of selling prestige?
You went at Hunter Biden claiming that’s what he did.
But you’re putting dollars in the pockets of all your kids?
You want Canada and Greenland to be your accomplishment.
Yet, rundown and deport those not of Caucasian descent.
The World has color which shines so beautifully bright.
That means this country will never again be Lilly White.
Mr. President, are you there? Are you hearing me out?
This ain’t about red states down in the Dirty South.
I step to you because of my bewilderment.
As to why I pay more for drinking Heineken.
I met a streak across the night,
a blaze of breath, a flash of flight.
A shooting star with silver flare
descended near, through whispered air.
I asked, “You fall so fast and bright—
what secrets do you steal from night?”
It flickered once, then shaped a voice
as if my soul had been its choice.
"I carry wishes, hopes unspoken,
tokens of hearts that remain broken.
Each trail I burn, a soul’s demand—
a silent prayer not made by hand."
“Do you regret the paths you take,
so brief your flame, then you forsake
the sky, the stars, your cosmic kin—
for just one flash to spark within?”
It laughed—a sound like chiming glass—
"Regret is for the ones who pass
through time without a burst or flare.
I live in sparks, I scorch the air."
"You interview me as I fade,
but do you live the life you’ve made?
Or wait like dust in twilight’s seam,
hoping I’ll grant your dormant dream?"
I tried to speak, but it was gone,
a sizzle swept the dark to dawn.
Yet in my chest, a burning scar—
left by the words of that bold star.
Place: Honourable mention
“Oh, my dear mirror!
You show the queerer,
The beautiful and the ugly,
As they are!
Everything on the left
Stays on the left;
Everything on the right
Stays on the right.
What you see, you show,
Neither less nor more!
You’re the best judge,
That we all know!
Even for the sake of fun
Against none,
You never show
An iota of grudge!”
When I ask, if it has anything
to say on the contrary, it humbly says,
“If I’m curved inwardly or outwardly,
I show you the things quite differently!
If I’m broken into many pieces,
A shattered image you get from me!
I’m impartial to the core when I’m flat,
And reflect exactly what is before me!”
You are portrayed altogether differently
By the people with crooked minds!
People with plain minds portray you as you’re!
A great lesson from the mirror, we’ve to learn!!
?
!
?? ?
! !! !
? ??? ? ?
!!! !! !
? “???” ?
“!!!” !! … !
“??” ??
!! “!!” … !
“??” ?
#@*% #@*% #@*% … !
?
Indomitable
Indefatigable
Impenetrable
Immovable
Immense
Incomparable
Interior Lineman
~ Quoted, “Hi, Mom’
Hey, why are you copying me?
Every word I say you just repeat.
Lose the mocking attitude, please?!
Look at you, you're even trying to be me!
Overy and out, you're only just a tease.
INTERVIEW WITH AN ANGEL
Way back then, Noah had clearly read the signs
Here and now, so very few of us are left
I’m Goliath, frontman for the Philistines
Without my trusty visor, I am bereft
But I am very tall, and not a small ‘un
With his sling, David did seem to be so deft
There are a lot of rumours that you will hear
All about my having risked both life and limb
But no need for pity, nor to shed a tear
Some might say that my ego may be swollen
I was up there once, but I am now down here
As an angel, I am considered fallen
I’m but one of what were many Nephalim
Yet unlikely to ever feature in any hymn
Nervously checking my hair,
Noting the silver is peppered with grey.
My hand trembles as I put on my lipstick—
My favourite shade of pink.
My reflection bears a frown,
But today, I turn it upside up.
The big interview with an angel
Will happen when the clock strikes
Midnight.
The mystery of the night
Is needed for the halo to shine as bright as a star.
I smooth my good dress,
Reserved for special occasions—
And an interview with an angel
Marks it so special.
As this angel
Is so very dear to me.
For you see, this angel,
Living among the stars,
Is my own little girl.
My first and only question,
That I will ask with tears in my eyes,
Will be:
When will I become an angel?
So I can spend the rest of eternity near you.
You seem to be like a scab on this ship.
Do you enjoy a nice fishing trip?
So what do you do with your time?
Do you like the taste of lemon or lime?
Or maybe acidic things are poisonous to you.
Do you like this boat, which is the color blue?
Or would you prefer a cruise ship to relax?
Does the fisherman here make you pay tax?
To be honest, they do consider you debris.
But you are as living as any tree.
How do you manage to survive so long?
Do you sing a siren song?
So you claim to not have any eyes.
I suppose I’ve never seen a barnacle blink in surprise.
Maybe I’ll leave you alone for now.
The fisherman is walking up to the bow.
It sounds like you don’t like the attention.
I’m a news reporter, I forgot to mention.
Don’t worry, I’ll keep you anonymous today.
And leave you to enjoy the waves on this bay.
ME:
Deja vu-
It startles me at times.
Like a mirror, coming before me;
A conversation
An interaction
Almost anything-
Exact in every detail
As I lived it before.
I am mesmerized,
Asking myself-
How does this happen?
COSMOS:
All is saved in the
Mirrored Galaxy of Life.
There are four walls in
Four-Dimensional Space-Time.
Like a mirror, they safeguard
Your beginning to end
With images from your
Birth,
Childhood,
Adulthood
and Death-
Saved from every second
Of your life in this Universe.
The mirror of your life,
Inside the Gallery of Time
Of the Space-Time Continuum,
Forever and Ever in
Four-Dimensional Space-Time.
ME:
Where somehow, seconds escape
As real-time mirrored rays
To reflect again in my mind?
COSMOS:
Yes.
she wished to know
so taking her permission
I peeped deep into her womb
to have a conversation
with a foetus therein
what I saw
with my soul’s eye
was God’s spark as light
in the innermost cave
glowing as all heart
we spoke for a while
in as our souls entwined
mirroring the one light of God in all
sheathed in the foetus’s heart
as source of life itself
Self dwells in singularity
loosely portrayed as heaven
it chooses to experience duality
so takes birth as organic form
to learn to love by touch
with God as the core
the only true substance
by His will new life develops
to fulfil His will on earth
as it is in heaven
- 'Hi ! Tiny shiny sand particle
in Sahara Desert !
Are you alert
or feeling shy
for your existence in trivial measurement ?'
- ' Dear ! Who are you
to take interview,
considering yourself so prominent?'
- ' Me an humble human being on quest
trying my best,
but got upset
to find my right place
in Human race.'
-' Let me explain.
Me , a sand grain
not in vain.
holds space the same.,
as whole Solar System
can only claim
in Universe , as possessed
by a sand particle
in Sahara Desert,
( not a miracle)
Me, sand grain
staying in grace
in my own place.’
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