Long Hold firm Poems
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They say that happiness is the key,
to the best things out of all that we see.
They are in constant pursuit,
of the mystery that keeps them smiling,
forgetting any bad they go through everyday.
They keep on searching,
running after anything promising a great journey,
through life as they try to forget all the dreary,
situations that befall on them constantly.
They seek to put out the fire burning,
deep inside their minds disturbing,
their peace and goals they strain achieving.
They seek the alcohol,
drinking it all down just to quench the thirst in their souls,
their beliefs of being happy lying at the bottom of a bottle.
The only cure they have prescribed in their thoughts,
taking the pain away block after block,
taking it apart till its no more.
Feelings of joy taking over all they do is smile, '
feelings of sorrow disappearing from deep inside,
they can feel it taking over,
eyes full of blood none left in their brains,
thoughts all gone they can only try to train,
their hands to hold firm the drink they placed their faith,
in order not to miscalculate their movement when dancing,
and end up spilling it on anybody passing.
Their feet staggering,
getting tired of lifting,
the body by every passing minute.
Alcohol meets blood now their minds are working,
yapping all that comes to their tongues no stopping,
no thinking just talking,
its exciting....
till the morning,
something is wrong his body dictating,
nothing feels right he keep on guessing,
looking around disturbed,
trying to keep his eyes from focusing,
on the light in the room curtains closed he is stressing.
His head throbbing,
too painful a feeling that thinking keeps him hurting.
Stomach running and that's what his feet are doing,
running to the bathroom to release whatever is corroding,
him inside such a horrible feeling.
Its unbearable,
sleep might cure it all.
Time is all he is losing,
energy is the only thing he needs to be gaining.
Dirty and hungry,
but the thought of food makes him worry,
he needs energy but not food, such irony.
The task left to the blood to detox itself, how funny,
that it keeps him alive and he fills it with trash,
is it worth it?
Does it really make him happy?
"free from conditioned belief
no agenda on our shelf
vibrant as the light of Self
life flows on all by itself” - Unseeking Seeker
Faith is more than a mere noun,
phrased within fragile pages
of a tailored manuscript;
it is a way of life,
found in the zestful air we breathe,
in the hushed haze
of peace and intrinsic love.
I bloom like a lotus,
floating through silence~
tied to tulip-twinkles of twilight,
turning nautical stripes
into midnight prayers,
sailing through the skyline
like a cultural odyssey,
facing the eyes of
the speechless sun,
to untangle brutal tendrils
chaining my sapphire spirit
to terrains of ashes,
smudged with societal lies
and narrow perceptions.
And as the wind blows
cinnamon hymns,
I listen to the heartbeat
of the horizon,
adorned with balmy auroras,
ricocheting runes engraved
within the pristine pillars
that hold firm the hibiscus haven~
a sanctuary that hears not the mantras
of megalomaniac meadows,
too consumed by stereotypes
and prewritten scriptures,
curled into clusters of constraints,
sprinkling superficial sparkles
to hypnotize the naive.
O utopian chateau,
I choose to soar free,
like a peacock plume
swirling in sync with
the lilac light of falcon fortitude,
and the timeless pulse of the Almighty,
unshakable from the
gusts and gales
enveloping my conscience
like a maroon maelstrom of misery.
I choose to follow
the soothing shimmers,
of the morning stars,
letting go of the
tempest of Midas’ touch~
labels and ego,
discrimination and darkness,
materialism and fickleness,
while the icy weeds
in my skin unfurl
empathy and kindness,
aware of sacred states
sewn with threads of
karma and kundalini.
I am the soulful veins
of an amaranthine leaf,
flawed in fire,
embracing the
fluorescent frequencies
that ebb and flow
like waves of wisdom,
surfing through fogs of fairy-tears,
like sea-glass smoke
kissing the porcelain
sands of serenity.
So, between the melodious mists
of the breeze and the blue,
there I find a reason
to rise and rinse stained ripples,
while attuned with
the butterfly dews resting upon
divine diamonds of blissfulness.
They were hard-pressed on all sides.
only shot, stabbing strokes could they give,
they were carried on a wave of hate,
their muscle's ached and pain did sing,
the time to push forward one last time.
The main battle unit of foot,
they have stopped moving back,
once more forwards,
slowly they sing death's song.
Once more the Arlagh feels their sting,
this had to be their last push,
their strength was ebbing,
the blood would have to flow.
The cavalry on the left,
all their arrows had been loosed,
now, sword and spear to battle,
half of them attacking the enemies left flank.
The other half now though for survival,
the enemy hidden, they came out of the trees,
live or die, Alahsar's own fight 'til the end,
only time knew the outcome.
The mother of the storm and her army,
they were now split into three units,
the mother of the storm attacked the rear of the enemy,
half the force followed the mother.
Four hundred dark men, ready to kill,
they thundered across the plain,
thunder and lighting spilling out before them,
death to the forces of Evil.
Two hundred Dark Men led by Turvehr,
they would attack a new enemy,
those streaming over the Palovar Ford,
already, the first rumble was heard.
black blood would mingle with red,
gold blood would also spill,
this group would have to hold firm,
if they fell, all could be lost.
The third group of two hundred Dark Men,
they rode swiftly to the left,
reinforcing the mounted guard,
lightning rode with them.
They rode their Unicorns at the gallop,
soon the battle crash,
the Arlaghs would stand or fall,
all was in the hands of the Gods.
Now, on the right flank,
one hundred and fifty shield riders,
they crash into the Arlaghs and Spiders,
swords cutting through giant legs,
spears thrusting through Arlaghs,
this attack was little expected,
now, the battle is hot,
Screams of dying Men, Spiders and Arlaghs, filling the air.
The shield riders we have left,
going over the Raven bridge,
they now gallop through the trees,
before them, they hear the unseen enemy.
The silver gate is open,
it must be closed,
they would gallop out of the trees,
attacking a hopefully, unexpectant enemy.
The crossroads of shadows within my mind, where darkness and light intertwine
in an eternal dance, I sit in my own solitude,
feeling nothing but the painful flatness of existence,
consumed by loneliness, why must it be this way?
In a room full of people, all I see is my reflection, empty and pale.
A weight of stone upon my chest, a grip that steals every breath,
in agony, I writhe, a prisoner of unending suffering.
My movements constrained, the pain persists, waves of torment intensify,
the burden deepens, in pain, I lament, emptied of tears and hope.
Sleep has departed, only thoughts remain in a mournful waltz,
devoid of appetite, my body becomes a tight cage.
I unravel, falling slowly, piece by piece,
through the silence of the night, I've sought deliverance, but found only muffled echoes.
I am nothing, my image forever tainted by doubt,
thoughts that chain me, an implacable barrier,
as despair reigns with a crown of thorns,
I will never be better.
My perception shrouded by a veil of darkness,
feelings of despair hold firm like stones crushed under pressure.
My heart now knows only the sorrow of an eternal storm,
my soul, an abyss emptied of light, an unending night of the grave.
Portrayed as a morning without the sun,
the feeling of emptiness extends endlessly,
the pain persists, and hope slowly fades away.
The pain has become an unbearable cadence,
now I feel nothing but the silence of a frozen void,
the person I once was is lost forever,
and what remains is an empty, sterile freeze, devoid of life.
Ice flowers bloom on the walls of my soul,
as a testament to the cold that has embraced me,
in a realm of shadows beneath dead stars, I lose myself,
in the ethereal dance of longing and forgetting,
aimlessly seeking a spark of what I once was,
only to discover crystals of pain in the boundless desolation.
Here, in this eternal night of my conscience,
where thoughts flow like rivers of silvery mist,
I find myself on the edge of my universe,
in an endless quest for release, in the inert silence of existence.
A kaleidoscope of unknown metaphors finds its place
in the tapestry of a frozen heart, an unwritten poem of suffering and melancholy.
society has fallen prey to the status quo
unwilling to stand up for the God we all love and know
more concerned with being acceptable in the eyes of man
afraid to step out, to blaze a trail or even to take a stand
looking for approval from any and everyone
searching for commendations until the day is done
but a true Christian, a child of God can always discern
to stand up for God no matter how hot the fires will burn
and hope that those who worship false idols will one day see
that to fall under the devil's influence will lead to purgatory
don't ever let go of what you truly believe in life
take your stand and hold firm to the principles of the Lord Christ
be willing to stand boldly and tell society to it's face
that you wholly trust in the one true God who is full of mercy and grace
for greater is the God that is in me
greater than anything that man could ever be
take your stand in life and be true to your beliefs
don't fall for society's ways of ease and relief
don't hang with crowds for they'll slow you up or hurry you along
stand alone in the righteousness of God knowing right from wrong
tell that group of so-called friends you don't have time for pettiness
as you're too busy listening to God and keeping His holiness
fear not said the Lord, it's time to stand and fight
don't worry about the enemy for his dark can't diminish God's light
the enemy may huff and he may puff but he can't blow your foundation down
for you are standing on the word of God and are now on higher ground
for the devil is a liar and like a hooker always on the stroll
so be anxious over nothing as Father God is in control
to be like Shadrach, Meshach and Abednego
to refuse to bow down to a graven image with a golden glow
take your stand, hold to God's hands and let the whole world see
that you won't accept any and all types of immorality
take your stand, stick up for Christ and tell the so-called powers that be
that you will only kneel down in the face of the Lord God's authority
take your stand, keep the faith, trust in God and have no fear
for He's in complete control and will always be there
Easter was yesterday, just a few hours ago girls in pink and yellow dresses.
Boys with bow ties that eventually got stuffed into their pockets.
Women with big Easter bonnets and new whimsical dresses hoping that when they sashayed into church not only the glorified picture of Jesus
on the wall illuminating the church, but they would shine as bright.
The preacher looked down upon his flock and tried remembering the lost faces he had not seen since Christmas. but he was glad they decided to attend.
He is more energetic when he can preach to a crowded room.
He knows then that there will be someone out in this place of worship
who will hear his words. He ignores the men who sleeps but he cannot
forgive the ones who snores. He accepts every crying child.
He knows the children must be taught when they are young.
He remembers the first day how he was full of fear to deliver his
sermon but as he gazed out upon the starved faces of his congregation,
he recognized the earnest reason in which they came.
He knew they needed to be nourished and he was just the one to
satisfy their hunger. to fill the void of the desolate days they had conquered
the days before. They needed this one day to rejoice and feast on the
glory of the lord. One day for the dessert of inspiration.
He nourished them with the rhetoric speech of hell and damnation.
He soothed their souls as he instructed them on the road to salvation.
How the crowd nibbled and gobbled all they could devour in the name
of their holy one. He knew this was his calling. Oh, praised the lord!
Through his words he can hold their minds and change their thoughts.
He was granted the opportunity if he dared to inflict his own interpretations.
They will listen, they will trust, and they will conform.
They will hold firm to their doctrine. Religious beliefs have not always
been based on facts, but they are ingrained in humanity by the faith
of those who choose to follow any concept of beliefs, and with the
passage of time those beliefs will eventually become the eminent truth.
I take a sip of pinkish liquid – White Zin.
Will I be able to drive home now?
The goblet seems much more fun than it should be.
I am horrified by her fullness. It shocks me. Too much liquor!
My brain screams at the young waiter, who is probably new,
Does he think he is helping out an old lady without friends?
Without a home? A crone who lives under a bridge on a storm grate?
The bar and grille’s loud music no longer bothers me.
One sip of White Zin wiped out my irritation station.
Spiders who live in my spinal column scurry away for
An evening of “who cares?” We are unconcerned.
My back cord is relaxing into a pudding pop of herself.
For the first second I realize the music is Country Western
and I am not cringing. I reach for the glass goblet. The
White Zin sloshes into my mouth, with a happy war cry.
I know my mouth is now in her “ugly-fat-protruding mode”
I do not often take this mouth out in public,
But the white zin has convinced me I do not care.
I do not know these people, nor do I want to know them.
A gaggle of gabbing women two tables down are laughing now.
Someone has recently left this earth-plane. They are
celebrating tonight to honor her memory. By the time
my friend arrives, I have used up all three of the dinky
napkins, writing words willy, nilly and yon.
None make sense.
Care I?
No.
We have a lovely time, out-cackling and out-laughing
the grieving table, my friend and I. She has a liquor drink
too so she is insanely silly.
Some old geezer wanders over and says he is sitting down.
We hold firm and he falls off the seat onto the floor.
Oops. Maybe I was the one who held firm.
We promptly leave. Hug goodbye. No kissing.
I let her pull out first. She can barely see. She has
hit lots of cars. I wait for a bit.
White Zin and I are not the friends we once were.
I throw up promptly when I arrive home.
Second or third reminder to me that I should not drink alcohol.
Thank you dear Lynda McCarthy for your love, understanding, passion and guidance
They are whispering now, yes I hear people talk,
‘Think she’s got mental problems?’ Is all that I’ve got.
You better believe I’m as sane as sane gets,
In an insane world, and one filled with regrets.
Yeah I might be sad, anxious, even paranoid too,
But I’d prefer that over what’s become of you,
For you've made this world such a strange place,
We can no longer take pride, look ourselves in the face.
You’d sell out your soul and to more than one bidder
If it meant that your bank account would become fitter;
The people who built you up to the best you could be,
Are the people you fail to remember, or see;
For it’s all about ‘me’ and ‘look what I’VE done,’
But when you’re standing alone it’s no longer much fun.
You think my life’s easy, I should swallow the pill,
Yes, it could be much worse though it’s still been uphill.
Though it’s easy to spiral we defy gravity,
The only one deciding my fate will be me,
And you better be damned sure I’ll come out on top,
For, with no silver spoon, I don’t know how to flop.
But I do know to fight, and to stand my ground,
Hold firm to my values, not get pushed around.
And when the times get tough I know just what to do,
I rely on myself, my hard work, unlike you.
I don’t ask for handouts, or for others to serve,
I will do it myself and I will do it with verve.
For I know and appreciate the skills I will learn,
It’s all one big classroom – this life we must earn.
And I’m counting my blessings, they’re important to me,
Those precious few souls –friends, mentors, family.
So when the mountains need carrying and the rain it pours,
My resilience muscles flex stronger than yours.
The advantages you flaunted over the years
Will not serve you at all when we get to the tears.
I will move that great mountain, and I’ll carry yours too,
For I have compassion, and now I will teach you.
Dare Listen
by Odin Roark
Time chooses to whisper,
Having endured shouting decades,
A species’ feigned listening,
Maelstrom's obsessive noise-making.
Still persistent
Is but a parade,
A just married tin can raucous
Tied to mankind's bumper.
How tenuous one’s duration.
Yesterday…
Sitting inside time's tree house,
This place of early discoveries,
Where do and don't became but chaff-covered kernels
A slow growing wisdom first heard,
Through Daddy’s cheap wine curiosity
Slowly washing away innocence,
Introducing adult fantasies
Through the malaise of unknown tomorrows.
Synchronously, tiny sparrows
Nesting in branches above
Chirped their own hunger pangs,
Awaiting mother and worm.
Below, a squirrel foraging acorns paused,
Looked up and listened to the now of Nature’s family,
Savored sounds of his own way and means.
Today…
Time awaits the next moment.
As far as the eye can see,
Old roof tops recede,
Conifers hold firm their rightful place
Hosting fowl and predator alike,
Remaining ready to engage the next of reality’s misdeeds,
Endless out-of-control concussion of erosive man,
While Nature digs in for another encounter.
In duration’s not too distant future,
Man’s earth destroying roar
Will hopefully stumble and be swallowed
By the unsullied trees,
Rocks,
And life-consciousness,
Allowing the essence of Nature's inexhaustive patience
To be heard.
Dare listen…
Some will hear the desperate existence whisper
The harmonious nocturnes of everything that is,
Embracing the elusive nothingness of peace,
Even as attachment and resistance
Remains forever tone deaf.
Author Notes
Nature’s often abstract way of communicating may someday be all that’s left. (Image by M. Meir)
© Odin Roark. All rights reserved, 9 hours ago
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SINGLE MOM DOUBLE HONOUR
Tears won't dilute your strength
Your mood won't make it less of who you are.
You're not broken but a token that is indispensable
A fraction that's left and yet inevitable.
That's who you are
You speak the voice of two
Just to take care of one
You put up acts of two
Just to raise a mighty one
You show love of two different persons
Just to prove to the world better lessons
You double your passion and shower it on one
Just to make your child a complete mansion
The world sees you as incomplete
Yet you fill more than a gap of two
You train your hands and won't allow those strains to constrain you
You don't give up even when it seems the world is up against you
You turn your words into bricks and build a world for your child
When others build with bricks
You build with gains of the risks
You shunned your supposed shame
You raise a world that will bring you fame
All just from your crumbs of gains
You're a superwoman.
If no one ever said that to you
They are either blind to it or rather jealous to admit it
That's who I see in you
That's who I believe you to be.
You may not be completely right
But you can't be more an angel than you are already.
I adore your strength
I respect your hustle
I envy your myth
And I pray for your might
You don't need get everything right
Not everyone can stand in the arena where you fight
I pray that you win this fight
And never quit praying every night
You may be the wing of flight
Every other victims will like to fly
Make them look unto you
Never you breakdown
Crush a brick and the building may go all down
Hold firm and win this battle
You won't just be called a winner
You will be a legend with double honour.
(Tribute to all the single mothers out there)
CONCEPTUAL FM ???