Long Introspectionworld Poems

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Destiny Versus Destination

Choose your destiny, but your destination has already been prepared
you have only to follow the light of truth, with no cause to be scared
mercy is given to the merciful, and only in the land of the living
after returning to your heavenly abode, there is no longer forgiving  
 
Know that the place to mend is here, and the time to achieve is now
passing into the world of souls, correction they will no longer allow
our personality traits are in need of repair, we must dig very deep below
if we fail to improve the error of our ways, forever will we remain low 

Three things, jealousy, lust and honor remove us from this world
struggles of the body and duties of the soul, to us has this been hurled
we do not have the choice to desist from exerting our efforts, this is a must  
heavenly eyes are watching, whether we will choose wisely and learn to trust

Encountering life’s trials and tribulations, mitigating circumstances they will weigh
what is required of us is to withstand, but for the right results we must surely pray
like in human affairs, judge your neighbor favorably is the correct way to go
becoming entangled in the net of gossip and slander, from them does sin flow

This world is the place where we are expected to toil, that is why we were created
at the end of this journey, we will finally see just how everything was interrelated
a person’s face in the image of G-d was he created, and yet we embarrass him so
his face turns red as he wishes himself dead, we have murdered him we must know

Those that lower themselves in this world, in the next they will be raised up high
everything is revealed, and for all the good you’ve done forgiveness you can rely  
He neither sleeps not slumbers, throughout our lives G-d does patiently await
our shortcomings are no secret, despite our mistakes His love will never abate

The day is short and the work is great, consider your obligations the hour is late
how important it is to take stock, our destiny is ours and we control our own fate
suffice it to say when all else has passed, one thing alone remains to be said
look forward to what you acquired, eternal happiness, for you alone lies ahead
Form: Rhyme


Signs of I

I feel like an Episcopal priest before losing his faith, 
a traffic accident thrown in his face, renouncing 
my faith even though my younger brother believes 
I'm more than just a human being, I'm sort of a saint 
without ever stepping a foot on a field, but why 
does he still look up to me and all my bad habits? 
Playing ballads against an empty glass of hope 
thinking how mysterious this world really is 
as crop circles engulf our minds with the 
possibilities, but I guess happiness is a hoax 
as I stare out this bedroom window laughing 
at nightmares just to let the world know how 
brave I am to peak out my once dry sheets 
and stare out the window at the creepy silhouette 
standing alone undearneath the midnight stars, 
but don't be alarmed, I am not scared of a soul trying 
to intrude on my ego, like if I am somehow exempt 
from the rumors of mortality. I feel the footsteps 
of strangers walking around in the shadows hiding 
while dogs bark curiously at phantom noises coming 
from the same place I just pointed my finger at. 
Maybe it's a sign that we are not alone on this earth 
or maybe it's a sign that nothing is furthur from 
the actual truth. Boarding up windows makes me 
feel safe but not invinsible on some rainy nights 
when my newfound fright gets the best of me. 
No matter where I hide, attic or basement, i'ts all 
the same, I still yearn for my inhaler feeling like 
a hostage ready to give my final words to the world 
before I pass away into the toxic realm of SET, 
swinging away into pity's arms, I'm acid to my own 
self , toxin in my bloodstream. Listening to 
beautiful sounds in the background as I begin to 
tap on empty water glasses just to feel sane 
before the asthma attacks my lungs and I loose 
control as sounds begin to exchange questions 
with my sanity. The sound of strings all around me 
and I'm beginning to understand each note, the 
reason why tonight on the bay of regret I float.

Dear You

Dear You,

Listen for God's sake!!   
The world sends vibrations so frequently
you've memorized the frequency
and hear it a mile away drawing closer
...but when closer becomes here
eyes widen like deer uncertain of their doom

Man, must you fall in every pothole in your road?
A freelance daredevil rocking a unicycle, riding
haphazardly, aware of these obstacles while
brandishing a masochistic blindfold.
The wise side remains less bold,
self-scolding after the fact...
recounting every time you
shot an arrow in the sky,
then fell victim to your quiver

I know you lie awake at night
terrified of all your unsorted feelings
alone, they become real things...not clothes we wear for show
, and Steve, you're not alone...someone understands you...
she stares at her ceiling too wanting to filter truth 
seeing herself as rootless, wandering and fitting in no one's mold
as tears spill over her cheeks,  yours are damp from nights reflecting
Don't fear she doesn't exist...fear that you can't see with your head down...

Know that you must let go of your father. 
His weight has drowned you far too long
and we must move on and tread the water.
...I know the day you met was the the beginning desent
   and every day since has been quasi-apathetic
    ...but you know no father, only George
        and up to that day, the world was yours
Take it back Steve,  this world you allowed to slip past
as you realized no sense of entitlement, fight for it
and give it to your son...and no one can take it 
once you've given it away.
day

Premium Member My Surreal World - Inspired By Constance La France

I live in the surreal and I like how it feels, I am much more the hero in there;
When reality strikes it fills me with fright and nobody about me cares.
In my own head, in that world instead, I am confident and handsome and bright;
And in my fantasy mind, the struggles I find always seem to turn out just right.

But to survive and stay alive I must visit where other people live;
Where I am awful plain and feel the pain of lacking the best God has to give.
When in that world I roam I am always alone and haven’t any friends;
In the world I prefer I am popular and my magnanimity never ends.

I am loved by all and have a ball; there are adventures every day;
Being too shy and a clumsy guy never seem to get in my way.
Real world folks think I’m a joke because I am always staring off into space;
They just aren’t aware and what do I care, when I’m in my special place.

Don’t feel bad for I am not sad that in your world I don’t fit in;
To tell the truth you are a bit uncouth in my surreal fantasy land;
But don’t despair for I wouldn’t dare be rude and mean in the surreal;
In my mind we are always kind because I know how you would feel.


NOTE:  This poem was inspired by a response I received from Constance La France to a post I 
posted on one of her blogs where she said, “I have one foot in reality and one foot in surreal.. 
and I like it there” – This gave birth to the line, “I live in the surreal and I like how it feels” – the 
rest of the poem grew from those roots.
© Joe Flach  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Rhyme

9-11

I hope you’re not to weary of what I have to say
Because I must ask this question before I close today
9/11 and its aftermath I’m confused so help me please
2900 lost that day nothing at which to sneeze
6000 dead more on other shores 43,000 wounded 
So the question haunting in my mind like a clarion sounded
“One Nation under God”, isn’t that the umbrella of how we are founded
I’m curious what if what was done came from that sage advice
What if our leaders tried and they applied that holy guide
Stood up and bravely stated
We’re sorry for your pain please tell why we are so hated
What can we do let us help you I promise we truly care
Amazement in the world and respect for our response
Those killers would face the world and their derisive taunts 
Every effort extended to fulfill the words of our umbrella
Only in that’s failure should we tell them fella
What comes next will be truly awful
We’ll come at you and here’s what we will do
So please take our hand let us help you stand or face your extinction
Because at one borders door you will hear our roar and to the other border we shall 
march
Your nation will fail to exist you won’t get to sleep… your nation we will keep
You will be no more signs that Iraq and Afghanistan used to say, they now display 
welcome to the USA 

Seems far more logical than endless non-resolution…and oh the corruption death 
and despair…get it done or don’t go.
Form: Narrative


Premium Member Oh, Lord, What Have I Done

The glamorous uniform looked sharp in the posters about town.
Recruiters convinced the lad to join the Marines of great renown!
Reveille called, sergeants screamed, another tortuous day had begun!
He cried, "Lord, have mercy on me! What in the world have I done!"

The giddy lad proposed marriage to his beautiful young miss.
She happily concurred and he looked forward to years of bliss!
Now he has a common scold for a wife and a paucity of fun.
He lamented, "Lord, have mercy! What in the world have I done!"

The president-elect anticipated the perks and leading the nation,
And the dream of his dubious promises sailing through legislation.
He inherited unemployment, recession, wars and things left undone.
He puzzled, "Lord, have mercy! What in the world have I done!"

Assailed on all sides by savages and with things looking grim,
The impetuous Custer found himself hanging on to a sagging limb!
His last words might have been upon nearing life's setting sun:
"Oh, Lord! Have mercy on me! What in the world have I done!"

When we near the end of life's treacherous and rocky trail,
And are about to enter eternity through that mysterious veil,
We are apt to reflect on things we've done or left undone,
By pleading, "Oh, Lord have Mercy! What MIGHT I have done?"

Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
Form: Rhyme

Our World of Emotions

This world of emotions, is where we all really live
a place where we take, a place where we give
our experiences differ, due to the preconceptions we hold
only with a discerning heart, would we feel it unfold

Trials and tribulations, most of our days will we see
if we expect to learn and grow, this will have to be
what is our life worth living, could we ever be free
staying trapped in our emotions, unable to agree

To perceive one's true enemy, is not such a big feat
no need for anything special, you don't need to be elite
just a desire for your honesty, and introspection to meet
a realization that without this, you will never be complete

Break down the walls of your heart, to see what's there
another human being like you, yes, maybe your peer 
only bias and negativity, has this world made you immune
you failing to recognize, your obligation to commune

Whether black or white, gentile or jew
unity binding our souls, where are those few?
strife and dissension, this confusion does accrue
to a point of tragedy, which always seems to renew

Yet, we all hold this power, this divine power to achieve
but will you choose to change, or forever remain naive
enemy number one, if by now you cannot perceive 
with your own ignorance of mind, do you deceive
Form: Rhyme

I'M Back: Turn On the Lights

We had to wait. Both Him and I,
for raging winds to cease and allow-
soft puddles of shifting hue:
Jade emeralds,
Plum wine,
taxi yellow;
whispering together, their colourful voices mingling:
green slithers into the hot breath of red's maniacle cackle,
and yellow crackles like fireworks, zipping away in ecstasy across the sunset strip
of Sky, blue, deep, hollow in its warbling cry,
purple makes it's way in spiralling streaks; bold, leathery, loud, with seductive magic
in every step, exuding pleasure, hedonism, passivity- unity...
But we carry on dancing, fire prevents us from lying too long, even then we stop
drop, and roll
striving, striving, striving,
until
we
STAND.

now we pursue our dreams again,
He tells me its all over,
we awaken the pain that comes with loss,
We didn't make life what we wanted,
losing all that never was,
But we succeeded in one thing-
that which dwells in our minds, is the perfect creation,
We became artists, one line at a time,
having it's own character- living only when exposed
One life at a time, lived one day at a time,
in the world of the real, the world of smells- of sounds- of sights.

So hey man, lets turn on the lights.

Service With a Smile

Shut your doors and lock them all
Close your blinds, block out the light
Cast yourself into darkness
Hide from the light of truth

Sit down, relax, let the sounds of your world crumbling
Echo through the vastness
Music to your ears

Dust swirls across shafts of brightness,
Seeping through the blinds

Would you care for a drink?
Tears in a cup of tinted glass
Quite the delicacy

The earth starts to groan
Convulsions
The tattered wooden walls crack
Slowly exposing the outside
The world beyond your walls

Comfortable?
Is there anything else your heart desires?

Roof tiles and bent nails fall on the hard ground just outside
Casting flickering shadows as they plummet past the windows
Glass now shattered, blinds torn

Close your eyes, let your heart slow its pace
Breathe in deep… slow…

Beams buckle and walls crumble
Light floods in
Cold
Dry air
All is laid to waste

Amidst the ruins, in a vast expanse
Of hard-packed dirt
Not a stone in sight
Only emptiness
Under a graying sky and a waning sun


Your check,
That'll be two hearts plus tax

Have a nice day
© Moose Bak  Create an image from this poem.

In Mind Or Body?

There is another voice inside my head
she is so much so my own
I wonder who she is
but her response goes unknown
I can feel her watching,
i beg to know her name
she only just keeps smiling
and keeps me playing her games.
Sick and twisted ways,
they all just make he smile
she just seems to be waiting now
and has been for a while,
her words are my own
but twisted with spite
her world is black and void
staining red from white. 
Her world is from behind a mirror
mine is center stage
she's the puppeteer of our show
premiering the monsters of her rage;
we complete each other here and there
my beginning at her end
If I am the memory she is the moment
If I am the broken she is the mend.
Sometimes we have no difference
but the number of slices
If she is a cure am I the sickness,
or if she is the new am I the vices?
To all we would rather forget
but she knows all the memories hidden
lovingly puts them on display
and she claims the heart forbidden,
and so we take out places
as the curtain begins to rise
the audience beyond is waiting
for me to recite her lines.
Form: Narrative

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