Long Dispense Poems
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Regardless of our faith, in Love we can believe,
For Love's within us all, if we choose to retrieve.
Should we choose to leave Love in a dormant state,
Then we invite into our heart the bitterness of hate.
Those who believe in the power of Love,
Radiate and spread around all the beauty of.
Those who deny Love to flourish within their heart,
Spread misery around, since it's all they can impart.
We have all been blessed with the greatest Gift,
Though some choose to away from Love, drift.
The presence of Love or not is always crystal clear
In how we treat others; how others we revere.
Love is not selfish, cruel, apathetic, unforgiving;
Does not embrace greed or a miserable way of living.
Instead, Love is selfless, compassionate, and kind,
With consideration for others a natural state of mind.
Love is not ego serving, boastful and bragging;
Doesn't tune out a guilty conscience nagging.
Instead, Love is humble, modest, and reserved;
Accountable and accepting of what's deserved.
Love is not jealous, envious, resentful, or bitter;
Nor shallow, spineless, a flip-flopping fence sitter.
Instead, Love cultivates virtue, values, and integrity,
Making real in oneself a comfortable place to be.
When, our Gift Of Love, we cultivate with care,
We then reap to scatter Love seeds everywhere,
Always hoping they'll take root in another's garden bed,
Where there's being tilled the opposite of Love, instead.
When in our hearts we grow Love, we never have to feel
Afraid that another will come along and from us, steal
What we are growing and therefore, in possession of,
Because all they can take from us is some of our Love.
Once in the thief's possession, Love can only grow,
Infiltrate and change the current seeds they sow.
So, when we give the Gift Of Love and without request,
We can know in our heart we have given the very best.
In this day and age of money taking precedence,
Love is still free to receive and to dispense.
Love cannot be bought nor can Love be sold,
Making the Gift Of Love untouchable by gold.
We need not save our Love for special times and places,
Just for special occasions and to gladden special faces,
For the magic of Love is released every time we give
And multiplies within us when the Gift Of Love we LIVE!
Written by Artsieladie/Sharon Donnelly
©2017-12-24 16:52:00 (EST)
All rights reserved.
January 24th, 2023 Hair washing heralds huge happening
Hark….the herald angels sing, and twitter
for mass communication
mediums stop the presses
when I, a regular schlemiel
take shampoo to mine matted mass mop
(no less than once a week)
of straggly follicles, and commence
to dispense with the heady eco system
viz rare crop of flora and fauna
(some rank as endangered species)
rub and band together
to scratch envy of
flaky key neigh bring ponytails
and create quite an niche,
and where also can be found
lousy knit wit vendors ready to scalp
and give shaft to razor sharp purveyors,
who mane lee scout out available
head and shoulder room to nap
without a stir, tub bed down
(praying Holy Scott no wash out
nor Harris mint occurs),
or burrow vis a vis,
where subcutaneous porous droplet size
watership down pieces
of prime residence found
counting one mister comb lee
bald bold faced realtor
amidst competing rival
bulb buss Edward scissorhands
(with knot to heavy a price toupee)
affianced to rapunzel,
whom he sheared split ends
as her barber of civil,
one dapper dander ruff dude to offer
lice cent shuss insects a tonsured
cut above other stylish habitués
preferring to fraternize,
glad-hand, and hobnob
amidst a cluster of big wigs
housed by yours truly - Samson
in gleaming puffy pompadour
pads tightly secured
with the best dreadlocks,
which harum-scarum
green barrettes serve
as first line of rinse able defense
IdentityGuard (with franchisee
Bob O Link averse to split hairs, but fierce
as a Mohawk and ring leader
to protect any curl of mine)
waving away intruders,
who if insist tubby persistent
and tangle with fate
cannot expect camaraderie
from buzz cutting crew i.e. the fuzz
to give expletive filled lathering,
severe shame poo wing subjugation
plus an up braiding experience),
and teach stragglers
they will suffer
a real perm in hint bang up job
if they brazenly brush
against brylcreem of the crop
rooted as rightful heirs
(hairs) of tousled doo mane,
thus concludes my tail.
Postscript: Yours truly
an aging long haired
seventh generation pencil neck geek
finds ultra joy when
volunteering for kitchen duty,
hence imagine the hypothetical picture
portraying Geico caveman
mimicking pseudo dawn of humanity.
[Continued from Part Two]
The elder took no notice of risking life and limb.
Hither, thither ran the children, glancing up at him,
while indulging mindlessly in each impulsive whim,
with no apprehension of the future looking grim.
Their chances for salvation seemed increasingly slim…
That aged man’s deep compassion filled him to the brim.
The father knew the children liked any strange device,
exotic playthings, trinkets, whatever would entice.
He needed now to improvise a mode, in a trice,
that could capture their attention— something to suffice
to hold their young imaginations— to be precise,
a mechanism marvelous, no matter the price.
He had stores of immeasurable wealth, beyond doubt,
and his warmhearted love was impartially devout.
Just then the elder had the thought that not in the least
would his limitless riches and reserves be decreased,
even if to a kingdom vast he were to dispense
his overflowing fortune… so why shouldn’t he hence
give out his wealth directly to his progeny all,
before the children’s catastrophic deaths should befall?
The aged man reflected on what tactic to pick—
an expedient means that was sure to do the trick.
He told the children of exquisite toys he possessed
along with lots of precious carts of the very best
craftsmanship and quality, that all had been designed
expressly with the youngsters’ own enjoyment in mind.
The elder next, in order to persuade them, stated
that right outside the house at the entrance awaited,
to suit the young ones’ fancies skillfully created
goat, sheep, deer, and ox carts, ornately decorated.
He said that they must rush to leave the mansion, in haste,
and he’d give them everything— there was no time to waste.
Then the children finally fulfilled his desire
and scurried in a race safely out of the fire.
The father beamed with bliss that the urgency had passed.
They had securely left the burning building at last!
When they’d exited and scampered out, they all sat down
on the dewy earth and asked their father, with a frown,
where the toys and carts were that the elder had portrayed
for their own special likings to have been tailor-made.
The youngsters had escaped and the elder’s heart was eased.
But now each one of their capricious wants must be pleased.
[Continued in Part Four]
~ Harley White
I dwell between two major figures
Where twenty borders twenty-one
A child of age bygone, it figures
What I lived through can’t be undone
I keep on seeing a commotion
A whirl, a trend that leaves me awed
Perpetual flow, mankind’s motion
It’s weird, puzzling, odious, odd
One’s mom and dad aren’t in the picture
YouTube will teach you every trick
By God, the influencer’s scripture
Takes over you, you get a kick
This is the century of sexes
And not just two, but whole bunch
Imagine that, all intersexes
Try as you may, there isn’t a hunch
The time of minds torn to pieces
Boyhood and girlhood wounded bad
The schools dispense wokeism feces
With moral guidance preached by cads
We witnessed honor compass breaking
We held it close, it showed the way
Precedes disaster in the making
Whole generation washed away
The country borders - simply lines
On map they run, ramparts they’re not
So, hordes ignore the border signs
Without fear of being caught
The world got smaller, can't go places
Where danger lurks with bated breath
Inflation earnings outpaces
To stay afloat – work to death
What’s gone is privacy, forever
And cam now lives on every pole
I couldn’t imagine, never ever
That every car shall run on coal
The Paly flag would stand for hatred
And Star of David – Nazi sign
The Holy Land – no longer sacred
And being Jew means get maligned
Don’t have to be, just make impression
Puffed cheeks and chest – signs of success
Distinguish lies from truth, big question
And states of ‘blue’ are in distress
The money isn’t worth the paper
Go buy some groceries and see
Subscribe, watch, comment is the caper
Go steal from store and then run free
A million voices telling tales
On what to buy, cook, wear - sweet talk
Taste, think, use, carry – with details
In billion phones around the clock
You owe your life to rabid viewers
Can never stop, content is king
Most weird acts attract YouTubers
While bank account goes ‘cha-ching’
Forever jealous, mean and bitter
This ain’t my way and never be
All worthy news are found on Twitter
To filter noise is the key
Elections screwed and prosecutions
This crazy world, it goes awry
Mankind engulfed by evolution
The times, in which we live and die
May 27, 2024
War after war in the name of his sovereign king
A seventeenth century fury, devoid of all shame
Through pistol, cutlass and rapier, the world knew his name
So too does the Reaper, and beckons to Solomon Kane
.
A time to fight evil with evil, purge wickedness far from the land
Anger, murder and hatred, the cost of the toll
On the brink of destruction he falters, unsure of his stand
No riches, nor rapture enough to replenish his soul
.
A scream from the Devils Reaper
Cuts deep through the ice in your soul
“I have come for you, Solomon Kane”
“To claim back the Time, that you stole”
.
You wake from your world of dreams
The dreams that do haunt you, still
Renounced your evil ways, it seems
No - more you will live, to Kill
.
In penance here, behind these walls of virtue
“Oh! Father, do not make me beg, I pray
Cast from Heavens favour, crowned unholy
Let loose the Devils Children, for to play
.
The corpses piling high, upon the pyre
His bounty just a book and some stale bread
From regal and the noblest of beginnings
Alone there on the road, he’s left for dead
.
Dispense now with the boy you gutter demon
The daggers kiss then stole his life away
“If I kill you, demon, then I am bound for Hell”
“But that’s a price, that I will gladly pay”
.
Adorned by a broad-rimmed hat and a flowing cape
His journey’s long, his homeland’s where he’ll start
His task laid out before him, Merediths escape
No love, nor needless pity, in his heart
.
The preachers flock have changed now for the worse
They clamber for to tear the flesh, from bone
As MalachI bestowed on each, his curse
The Chapel cellar walls, their only home
.
The fate of defiance is fixing
The Hapless aloft, on the cross
Rain softens a cruel crucifixion
Sweet Meredith’s … not yet lost
.
A Priest sold his soul, to the Devil
At the castle, of Solomons birth
Welcome home, Solomon Kane
His friends, cut to bits in the dirt
.
“Forsake me not, Heavenly Father”
“Do I call on your Mercy, in vain”
Redemption lies there, at Your Alter
“RETURN TO ME” ….. Solomon Kane
.
There once was a time, full of burden
A time without hope, for a Saviour
When no-one would stand against Evil
“THAT TIME, MY LORD.... NOW IT IS OVER”
We celebrate Guy Fawkes although he did not quite make the grade
I know and understand rebellion threatens thus he met his fate
Could have been worse he could have blown of his incendiary hand
Less body parts to torture in the name of country and King of the land
Guido as they called him fighting for the Spanish before his foiled plot
Was fully aware that he could be exterminated for an unsavoury complot
Can violence in the name of debatable justice be ever condoned
The masters of power today might agree when Syria is droned
Crusades in the name of some cause or other belie religion and creed
When money meets oil geopolitical persuasion derived from greed
Black powder in Guy’s case blew up in his fierce revolutionary face
Unlike Nelson an eye for a blind spot got him nothing but disgrace
Dark power gloved fists velvet resolutions and orange insurrections
Should of course release white peace doves from resolute minds’ disaffection
Nena’s 99 red balloons and Banksy’s street art reveal a powerful message
No doubt they beat anthrax in envelops and letter bombs sent by expressage
Yet Mandela in his armed struggle days was deemed a vile terrorist
Fought for the cause in despair but was labelled a mean criminal errorist
Suppose that leaves us with religion and Jesus crossed bleeding nailed
Whereas Guy stored explosives in Westminster’s undercroft with little avail
A white robed Ghandi marched for salt freedom justice peaceful opposition
Before him the Buddha sat quietly under a Bodhi tree for untroubled transition
Fawkes received victor’s punishment but is said to have fallen from the scaffold
Before being hanged broke his neck probably mocked the crowd that was baffled
Avoided the agony of the punitive rope before drawn and divided into four parts
Outsmarted the executioner retribution erratically broken in fits and starts
Few of us know the real story only shoot fireworks remember November the 5th
Blow money miss the pith dispense judgement in blessed ignorance forthwith
A lesson to be learnt from the historical legend some possible moral from treason
Is that words are superior to gun powder and it’s better to die for a right reason
Tomorrow I'll awake and slip into my threads
the epiphanies of tonight I'll probably lose
that train of thought a garden of delight
but the problems of tomorrow life will choose
I'll have made my decisions life to change
like those who swear off a habits lent
but when I awake the flesh will rule
and for its desire time will be spent
I can tie my shoes not even thinking
the customs of my fathers not forget
every path of life is set before us
but living without reasoning I'll regret
If I do not reflect upon all history
or upon the strand of life I live
I'm doomed to failure of its mystery
if attention to its standards I not give
But so embedded in my body its demands
that wars with my minds intelligence
though I know of carnalities commands
my will power will make light of its pretense
So only of my own needs will I seek
I'll not consider your life or your duress
for I only look upon the man in mirror
and of all its lies I'll not confess
My focus will be only what I can see
its mind not be shaped by what I do
for the spirit belonging to the carnal man
will never seek or rely upon what's true
I will flatter myself and you with praise
I'll not recognize how insipid its emptiness
unfortunately I'll prattle on its savor
or to fill what is empty I'll not address
With assertions of the common beliefs invoke
for upon my peers I lavish jest
what's intricate has likely suffered broke
for this is why you'll never see my best
I plan to fill my life with pleasures song
for the universe cares not about my grave
there is no such thing as right or wrong
so with merriment I choose my road to pave
Alas my self centered mind I'll not dispense
the struggle of its strife too hard to fight
I have no shield for all my lacks defense
in all of this I've failed my own insight
I will speak to you as though I really care
but you know in truth not a dime I'll spend
because of course all know life's not fair
like all actors only my role will I defend
So there you have it a nutshell
If I do any good at all I'll want its praise
for I have set to establish my own glory
and to be written on your memory my days
source 1Cor 2:14 , but read the whole chapter
Romans 10:3
COPYRIGHT © 2012 C. Michael Miller
via Duboff Law Group LLC
In the land of silvery mists, where dreams touch the ground,
A being-abyss struggles, wishing to rise in docile flight and facing a deep fear,
Striving to be a fruitful field, the most fertile version of its essence,
While the shadows of insecurity cast it into the amphitheater of blooming thoughts, to crush it.
As the depths of the ocean carve waves towards unknown shores, so it sweeps the black soil of doubts,
Foreseeing serene sorrows from now on, the swirl that is just beginning its existential course,
Before the step has been set on the ancient path of stars, before the seeds of hope are thrown to the wind.
And every conceived gesture, every uttered word that will gravitate around it,
Will be sewn in a silent dance together with its shadowed face of expectation, imprinted in the essence of the tome of life,
They will intertwine, like threads of gold in the fabric of the night, in odes of the density of dreams,
Sending echoes through the abandoned galaxies of the heart, reflecting in the constellations of distant love.
However, the gaze directed towards the traces of the past heralds unwritten legends,
Whispers of time on its aged skin, spoken in a twilight that only it hears,
Resembling forgotten smiles which rays of dawn resurrect,
In the fields where the cries of the helpless and the shouts of the strong intermingle, a lattice of recovery.
Breaking the walls of the four seasons that confine its soul in a temple of skin is not a journey without fears,
It's an ascension on stairs of comets, a search for oneself through the fog of a universe made up of shades of grey,
But when the constellations dispense their counsel in a symphonic accord,
The revelation of a world between worlds is uncovered, where its destiny is written in the stars.
Receive your promise as a lamb at the bosom of spring, let its sash unfold,
Expand the curtain of hope over the scenes of your days, allow pure magic to flood your mood,
For if you do not catch the sky in flight, if you do not savor from the chalice of chosen moments,
The opportunity to reweave the tapestry of fate will flutter away like a startled bird – the precious sands of time will scatter to remind you of the age of silence.
Hello Friends... I suffer from Severe Bi-Polar Disorder and this submission was inspired by
actual events that occured during one of my especially critical manic episodes. Be sure and
read Part 1 first so as to get the true gist of the poem and leave your comments here on the
Part 2 submission. Thank you for allowing me to share my pain for pain shared is pain
diminished.
Me, Myself, and I... (continued)
“Your, (Or “Our”), symptoms seem to intermit
And the fact that “You’re,” (“We’re”), a hypocrite
Tis no wonder we’re having such problems with diagnosis”
Then “I” had an idea so grand
To dispense with this at my own hand
A self-inflicted coup de grace would be my prognosis
So while the “Me” and the “Myself” squabbled
With courage newly cobbled
“I” spotted the dresser drawer and made my run
With fingers fiercely fumbling
Whilst they continued grumbling
“I” produced from the depths of the drawer a shiny gun
And now my life, though ill-fated
Was soon to be vindicated
This would affect us all equally the same
Would be no myself or me
No you, him, us, or we
But an inclusive all would be to blame
It took me a moment to figure
Out the safety on the trigger
Then “I,” (or “Us”), prepared to do the dirty deed
Then the barrel found my temple
And as it settled into the dimple
A still small voice did my “selves” choose to heed
Hence a moment of clarity
Harkened me to posterity
And I thought what a legacy to leave behind
“Can’t we all find a way
To save this miserable day
And avoid a broken body for someone to find”
And then deep within my soul
I felt and heard a simple drum roll
And the differing sides of me just subsided
And with my mind now as one
I worked to get this all undone
The whole business of this stuff I derided
And tis now true of fact
That I survived this ordeal intact
And lived to raise my face unto the sky
And here now as it ends
I find I’ve made good friends
With the “Me”, the “Myself,” and the “I”
Thank you for taking the time to share in my poetry. Please feel free to leave your thoughts
or comments here on this page.
J. Scott Burns...
Dear one, the next time you rest;
Remember you are blessing;
The next time you lay down can you close your eyes;
Dispense with the frowns;
Praise God alive even praise at the top of your lungs;
And as you fall into the Twilight of your slum;
Remember that He's the only one who reads;
Get you up at dawn and that allows you to rest at dusk ;
You are blessed you, are blessed;
Don't transgress;
Don't be upset;
Just rest, rest;
In His arms rest;
Close your eyes sleep;
Be sweet in your sleep;
Let your Slumber be not a one day;
You're a winner,
The beginning in Christ;
Hold on to His praises;
All your angels all around you,
as you whisper melodies remember -
Proverbs 3:24 when you lie down you will not be afraid when you lie down your sleep will be sweet
Psalms 35 I lay down and slept yet I woke up and safety for the Lord was watching over me
Psalms 46:10 be still and know that I am God
Matthew 6:34 so don't worry about tomorrow for tomorrow will bring its own worries today's trouble is enough for today
Psalms 116 and 7 return to your rest my soul for the Lord has been good to use Psalms 116 + 7 who said with the whales in the shelter of the most high will rest in the shadow of the almighty you are not fear the terror of night nor the arrow that flies by day but he will command his angels concerning you to guard you in all his ways
Psalms 91 15911 I will both lay me down in peace and sleep for thy Lord only make it to meet well and safety
Psalm 4 days come to me all you who are weary and burdened and I will give you rest take my yoke upon you and learn from me but I am gentle and humble in heart and you will find rest in your souls but my yoke is easy and my burden is light
Matthew's 11:28 through 30 peace I leave with you my peace I give you I do not give to you as the world gives do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid St John 14:27 casting all your anxieties on him because he cares for you Peter 5 & 7 the rest in the quiet rest you are chosen rest you are God's child rest be blessed in your sleep Lord rest be still rest you are God's daughter rest in your blessed be blessed you are his sickness just rest good night