Long Needle in a haystack Poems
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Heal the haunting shallowness inside
Steal away the taunting distress so wide
Shards of the rusty chains that severely pulled me down once…
Has disappeared into ash and dust — thanks to Your response
Always waiting for what lies beneath
I can’t even breathe, can’t even breathe
Through the flames of uncertainty, uncertainty
Through the blames thrown at each other thoughtlessly
Wanting more than I get
Sick of sinking in regret
Haunting is your voice within and there’s no going back
It’s a single needle in a haystack, needle in a haystack
You pierced me with pridefulness
I’m in this horrid bewildering mess
You assume that your lies can cradle you to safety
You are doomed from the start; it won’t set you free!
You fiercefully forced me to make love to you
The healing process begins with hurting — true
It starts with you and I with or without wings
Play me like glimmering, sacred guitar strings
Shards of the rusty chains that severely pulled me down once…
Has disappeared into ash and dust — thanks to Your response
The healing process begins with hurting — true
It’s the harm and charm that you have I can’t undo
Shards of the rusty chains that severely pulled me down once…
Has disappeared into ash and dust — thanks to Your response
The healing process begins with hurting — true
It’s the weight of your embracing arms and what they do
A streak of moonlight cuddled by the chair placed in the balcony, outside
The ricocheting time and I, and the solar moonlight, a moonlit foamy, a subtle tide
My daughter beside me, and a diamond stud, her nose knows her black heads, in a way, fortitude
A face and a lit, a solar and a misfit
a questioner, closest, midfielder, lifelong
my quenching oasis, amidst my torn life, vagabond
I saw my brazen Fenugreek, my curry, my grave failure, a Maugham outspoken in mom
My dish said a delicacy long ago, with your perfect soft, melted ambiance
my soul, my Mosul,my Samara , my mina and my minaret
They kept your calendar tales and fruit punch , they never quite gripped
The midnight hymn and the enclosing, merging with the foamy sea, rhythm
I saw a morn, a corn, of the needle in a haystack, where even the arch angel ask.
My daughter, sleeping beside me, my soul within, in the depth of the moonlight!
it was the time to ascend and the elevator door closed with firm resolve
on his many needs and wishes that had pushed his buttons for so long
three wise men had spoken and a triad of Tarot cards had pointed the way
a pitchfork of ambiguous trinity had failed finding the needle in a haystack
horsemen of the apocalypse in his mind had traded their rocking donkeys
for a shiny Harley Davidson with punctured tyres and a hole in the tank
now he was stuck in the enclosure forced to listen to meaningless pan pipes
studied adverts of trade sharing Viagra and courses for meditation and yoga
determined to advance on his hierarchy of needs to the level of self esteem
but the display offered no fourth floor and he quickly went past his target
barred from quick levitation he went down again and attempted the staircase
only to find the door locked with a sign ‘sorry out of order for maintenance’
he bought climbing gear at a DIY store to scale the outside of his building site
carefully read the self-help manual and proceeded on his conquest for change
the windows had not been cleaned for an eternity and he could not look inside
but it was mirror glass cladding in any case and he got a bad case of acrophobia
by now he had received a parking ticket in an underground garage of anxiety
more points on his license reminded him that there was no fast track escape
when his scared gaze fell upon readjustment possibilities and alternative choices
he climbed an oak tree dangled his feet from a branch to look again at his roots
09th September 2020
We as people sometimes really don't know
our worth until something happens life changing
me I got my heart on my sleeve and yeah
there's a dent in there but for the moment
it's looking kinda stainless, me I'm living
off experience so never mind my past,
I was running the streets brainless at
some point, now I'm back on point
like a needle in a haystack and I learned
from experience don't chase that woman
cuz if it's true love she'll come right back
like income tax, my worth is priceless
I can't be bought and since my kingdom
is in Heaven spiritual knowledge is what
I was taught, so truth be told me & you,
do the math we ain't equalivent got some
similarities & differences but thats about it.
A Needle in a Haystack
Life on a bagel with memories and cheese
Beyond tragedy
The way It brought you to your knees touch you
The way I am
Talking to the girls
People shame me as a man
Build light and build card houses straight
The Final dance to help rescue me
Mysterious fool
No escape
No Proof without a sacred stance
I have made a mistake or two
Living more or dying less
Music's little sensors captivated audience
Being gentle with the times makes me mad
Guided by nature
Into future disasters
In this hood they yell out
Give us more
Liquid cigarettes
Talking appears as a game
The listener always wins
Looking through the peephole of the insane
Cheap love or no at all
Go back to the Bible
Think back to when you were a child
Faking the innocent
Taking a walk down the tracks
With some cigarettes
Ice cool iron
Screaming to keep out the heat
Out of luck out of shade
Right through the summers night
Holy shoes with everything unmade
And a stick like a bindle
Id like to take you across the skies
Ill just let you go cares and crys
Standing with no base
Something new
A perfect time
Wearing new souls
Trading liberty for gold i hate it i hate it
Bring the ship about
We are heading south
Diamonds demon poor seedlings
Feed the laughter
laugh at struggles
Laugh cause we don't know
Purple tears so thin
Naked is the night when all is hush
Party's dim their lights, Amongst the nocturnal shapeshifters,the deepest of lusts jetters
and shakes
But nobody sees
Nobody knows
But the moon which tells the cow
The secrets of the night
The cow lives for these stories
Then he himself has many dreams of human beings
Their character and appetite for lust and romance
The cow has accepted its fate
To dream the events of any given night
Produced by the Moon
What IS worship?
You may not know
if your bored, stare into the air,
recite without insight,
sing without glee,
do not know if you’re free…
What is worship?
It’s a kinship
between you
and the King.
It is looking up…
It is falling to your knees…
Do you hate the thought
of being humbled?
I hate the thought of pride…
God sees us in our lowly stance
and picks us up to take us
on the greatest ride.
The chariot flies.
My eyes are closed…
My eyes are open…
I am breathless at the glory…
How can I NOT praise Christ!
What one of you would humiliate yourself…
What one of you would give IT ALL UP…
What one of you would allow the extreme…
What one of you would suffer, be betrayed,
have all your friends run away, be slapped
and whipped and not cry out for heaven’s help…
…to the death, bleed out
…even then be mocked
…betrayed by YOUR creation
Why worship…why NOT?
Worship is NOT
berating
hating
yawning
but elating…
Mercy and grace
likewise not pondered
and then you wonder
at His justice…
what about ours?
As for me and my house
we will gladly leap and holler,
sing, raise hands with wonder…
gloriously wonder at the God
who loves this needle in a haystack,
who lets me feel the fullness
of my soul…his salvation
makes me whole.
Mildred
1. Like the flick of a brush to a canvas, her world was tainted by his love. Barely psychotic.
Led by the armor he wore, she rose like a phoenix. It was fierce and unapologetic.
His crooked smile and throaty laugh lulled her in, a fresh breath of summer.
She raised her kids in absence, somehow forgot how to be a mother.
2. She sought his love like a needle in a haystack while he wove the hair of another.
She ignored us when we were hungry and depressed, when in the arms of his father.
In the presence of the Lord, she asked for an heir—a blood clot connection,
Wanting something much deeper than the bond between a father and a son. A transparent deception.
3. One, two, three miracle strips down the latrine basket. "Better luck next time," she sighed.
She spent nights under tents of stars, wishing for a shooting star instead.
Oh, Kindred!
One, two, three years our hearts were fleshed out by silence and betrayal.
Mother's treasoned to blatant denial.
4. Placing the phone on your bed, awaiting his calls?
For sure, the second Dad is not coming back!
How do I explain to my siblings?
His phone had not been hacked.
5. Karma is a , always whining in her free time.
Mom lost her greatest battle, without ever going to war or searching for mine.
The haunting truth shone in our unalike faces.The second dad was never ours.
And she should not act with bias.
6. A woman and three children he secretly had,
And the eldest and prettiest was called Mildred.
My mom lives in oblivion, their father in the naive arms of his l'amour de la vie.
We lived in the heart of town through which ran a paved road and a railroad track. When a little boy, I had three brothers, eight sisters, and a dog named Jack. There were no child labor laws for us, so I was fitted with a cotton sack. Hard work and so little play, were enough to make a kid turn bad. Hot summer days and sweaty summer nights are what we often had. So void of bountiful breezes, many summers were so awesomely sad.
My brothers and I were often found riding with our dad in his pickup truck, and our heads blowing in the wind made us glad. So little freedom and justice were enough to drive us mad. Our days moved at snail's pace, and a better tomorrow always seemed to lag. We believed that the future was promising, but many of our days felt like nightmares, and many people lived deep inside of their nightmares and would drink away their cares.
When I was little, people would often speak of needles in a haystack. It's true that much of life is like trying to find a needle in a haystack. I once knew people who, against all odds, found that unfindable needle. After finding that needle and sewing their way clear out of the hay fields, they kept right on sewing and working through the tall grassy cotton, corn, and bean fields. So often, the only choices we have are, in a sense, evil; but we cast the best of the evil ballots. I learned a little bit of this kind of determination from 'needle people' when I was a little boy. These are the heroes I once knew deep down in America's southern land when I was a little boy.
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Disarray was all I could think as I gazed over my mess..
How on earth will I ever find it, my favorite lucky red dress.
I know it's in here somewhere, but I don't know where to look..
It's like finding a needle in a haystack, or that one word in a book.
Anxiety is building as the clock begins to chime..
I can't afford to be late as I'm running out of time.
So in a fit of panic I decide to wear a dress that's blue..
But now I don't know what to do because I've only got red shoes!
I'm in a rush and look mismatched but I've no time to spare..
So I brush my teeth and wash my face and quickly brush my hair.
I grab my phone and grab my bag and walk out the front door..
I've only twenty minutes spare to be at my interview at four.
I'm fumbling in my handbag to feel for my carkeys..
And I'm not hearing them jingle.. Oh No! Where can they be?
Where did I put them? I'm trying hard to think..
Oh No! Now I remember.. I left them near the kitchen sink!
I've now the realisation that I'm locked outside my home..
So I quickly book an Uber from my dying mobile phone.
I'm now all flushed but arrive on time with a whole 2 minutes spare..
But when I look around the carpark, I see that no one's there.
I really do wish now that I had of stayed all day in bed..
Because I thought today was Monday, but its actually Sunday instead.
My Uber didn't wait so I need to book another one home..
But I didn't bring a charger for my flat mobile phone!
I am standing on the dance floor
I don’t love you sincerely anymore
Change is a challenging chore
But, you and I will have faith, hope and cheer in store
I am walking on egg shells and ashes of back then in my lonesome shack
I don’t want you to puncture me like a needle in a haystack, in a haystack
Your sorrows of yesterday
Is a mere shadow that fades away…
My soul crashes upon the dance floor
You ricochet like a bullet to the core
You shot me down with frowns of negativity
Free me from your captivity, your cruelsome captivity
I am laying down on heavy blankets of bewilderment
Benevolence on my side, abiding by your side as well
Change is a challenging chore of encouragement
Beyond our own, beyond our own, beyond our own heaven and hell
I am walking on egg shells and ashes of back then in my lonesome shack
I don’t want you to puncture me like a needle in a haystack, in a haystack
Don’t stop me from dancing delightfully
Don’t stop me from embracing glistening glee
My soul crashes upon the dance floor
You ricochet like a bullet to the core
You shot me down with frowns of negativity
Free me from your captivity, your cruelsome captivity
I am walking on egg shells and ashes of back then in my lonesome shack
I don’t want you to puncture me like a needle in a haystack, in a haystack
My soul crashes upon the dance floor
You ricochet like a bullet to the core
You shot me down with frowns of negativity
Free me from your captivity, your cruelsome captivity
I don’t have room for your doomful, grief-stricken sorrow
I have so much space for His tranquility of true Tomorrow
Farewell, black rose as I seek my demise
I will rise, I will rise like sunset to sunrise
I am standing on the dance floor
I don’t love you sincerely anymore