I had to create two worlds to survive —
one where I simply live,
and one where I am truly me,
kept apart for my own sanity.
In the main world,
I am the prisoner.
I can't express, I can't be me,
controlled and hurt,
I am dead inside.
In the other world,
I am the goddess.
Strength to fight,
I soar above,
I show my true colours —
I am the dragon.
Should the two combine,
they are like oil and water —
the collision would be earth-shaking,
and I'm not sure I would survive.
Holding your hand fills a void
yet clashes like oil and water.
I look at your smile like it’s the first one I’ve seen
etched in my mind
Technicolor.
I see you when I close my eyes.
I miss you in my sleep.
One day I will find what you represent.
The butterflies reverse to cocoons
but I find comfort in knowing they will emerge again soon.
Good And Evil
And The Heart
Miracle Man
6/9/2023
Good and evil,
won’t reside for long
in the same hotel.
For like oil and water
they won’t mix,
just co exist.
One dominates the other,
until a luxury suite
becomes a cheap room.
* Numbers 32:23 KJV
*“and be sure
your sin will find you out”
I.
Melancholy and joy, like oil and water,
do not combine (like water in a bath
of acid). The twain never do
meet in a single psyche,
a single soul,
a single
mind,
II.
or in a single life like mine. And often
in between are vast tracts of gray,
of feeling from day to day
so numbed from my
daily sacrifice of
seeing my
life
III.
slip away from me like water out of
my hands, like life-giving blood
leaving my capillaries
and veins in sickle cell
disarray even
on Sabbath
days.
IV.
Melancholy and joy, this competing twin
(of heaven and hell), have no
purgatory for me: I either
ascend into bliss; or
I descend into
a burning
ashtray.
Poets, you've been expressing your opinions on politics
Some were very nasty, like oil and water, they don't mix
Some 'discussions' have gotten rude and very hostile
It's truthful facts vs. fictional lies, all spewed with bile
Can everyone stop bickering and put your theories aside
Believe what you will, but stop being sarcastic and snide
It doesn't make a difference what any of us choose to think
The world is out of order right now, completely out of sync
I'm annoyed by being told, "covid is just a hoax." It's real!
Go ask the families of those who have died, how they feel
Don't send me to videos with what you consider is proof
I'm capable of reaching my own conclusions. I'm not aloof
America isn't gone. We're much more resilient than that
Our Constitution wasn't written as words of silly chitchat
We've not been destroyed by acts of deplorable lunacy
We've no need of a funeral, so don't prepare a eulogy
Poems and blogs that cause tension, worries and woe
will not lead us to write better poetry, so just let it go
Please stop using your pen like a weapon; a baseball bat
to grand slam insults. Poets, we should not be in combat
Religion and science…
never to wed
Like oil and water,
alone in their beds
While science defends,
ancient dogma portends
Two voices discordant,
to break if they bend
For centuries long
they have fought tooth and nail
Refusing to budge
out of fear that entails
A false understanding,
bells call from within
Where marriage awaits
—espoused unto Him
(The Book Of Prayers: November, 2020)
Love & Hate
By: Tom
8/15/2019
Tanka
Like Oil and Water,
Love and Hate aren’t miscible.
We must understand,
If hate decides to move in,
Love will be quick to depart.
THE GOSPEL
If the gospel isn't good news,
Then it isn't the gospel at all,
The gospel brings tidings of joy
Jesus redeems man from the fall.
For God so loved the world,
That He gave his only son,
To die on an old rugged cross,
For your salvation to be won.
There's nothing you can do,
Salvation has become free.
As you would for any gift
Accept it and thankful be.
The gospel is good news,
For Jesus died in your place.
No longer under the old law,
Now under a new called grace.
The old law has been replaced,
Only grace could salvation fix.
A little law and a little grace,
Like oil and water don't mix.
Jesus rose up from the grave,
That's more good news to tell,
Now He lives forever more
So His spirit in you may dwell.
Copyright © Vivien Wade 2015
Below our very feet, there are souls dreaming of nations after them.
Despite being held hostage, every understanding is collected
Throwing away all faith, allow their hate.
Walls tremble with thoughts, glass shatters like all anxiety
Artists scramble for cover, only to find and discover
How cowards steal for themselves and find no fault
Water. Water. Burning desire. Fingerprints dissolves as if dropped in acid.
Shadows and smiles go so well together but darkness and light cannot mix, like oil and water.
Fire. Fire. Why are you so cold? I'll take on my foes if it means I'll die.
God. God. You above all know their thought. Forgive me for crying.
Anger and sadness, they pale in comparison to my gentleness and happiness
I don't agree with the world and want to show them all but I'm only a tiny seed.
Birds grasp at my as I've fallen through cracks, water drip drop onto my skin.
Sun show your fire, give me heat. God make me rise, make me grow, not unlike a disease.
Wolves that howl and fish that swim, such opposites but both kinds alive to survive.
My mind is dull, and heart is weak
Words tumble in cheat
Truth and false are like oil and water keep own existences
I hate how I look at you
with such destain and such
because of how i saw your face
with love and a warm embrace
the way that your eyes glisten
in the sun wether they be green
blue or brown, but now i will tell you
it is time for us, like oil and water displace
i hate that you wore a mask
of perfect love and perfect grace
but i now hope that we can leave this
place with utter kindness
and let each other have our space
Time advanced
Faith still lyes in a man's gifted will and healing hands
Pressurized by macanical manicans
Vocies similar to mucical bands
Sinful humans blessed to live on cursed lands
Many followers of psyco cult clans
Beleving mass suicide opens heavens gates with a back stage pass
Brushing away the footsteps left in the sand
More follow religons imagined by man
Evolution carrys more fans
Wicked seeds are buried six feet deep on sacred lands
Fires out of control like oil and water in the same hot pan
Blood pouring from the son of the creaters hands
Age of the dammed
Demons dressed like rock bands
Collecting the souls of the dammed man
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