Mister President it's time to make the world a better place
You must treat the people fairly regardless of religion or race
When your time on earth ends what legacy will you leave
Speak the truth it's a-lot easier than trying to decieve
You have the ability to make things better for all mankind
Constant chaos makes nobodies life easier, you stii have time
Trying to stamp out the bad guys around the world never ends
You can make everyones life better by starting a new trend
Ideas are out there from both the left and the right
You have the tools to fix America let's end the plight
Making America great is achieved when we can all stand tall
We are as strong as our weakest link,'prosperity for all
Haunting loneliness
Keeps me awake
Nothing hurts more
Then endless heartache
My sadness is
my only friend
Where, Oh, where
Have you been
Nobody cares
For me but you
Nobodies there
For me it's true
When it's dark
And it's cold
You're all thats here
For me to hold
In the silence
I hear your voice
When you say
I have a choice
It's a deadly
Purple hue
My Emptiness
Is through and through
And there's nothing
I can do
But let it live
Til my ends due
Loneliness my old friend
Will you stay
Until
I'm dead?
Unlearned and ignorant,
Mere nobodies,
Just fishermen,
Inferior mortals,
Far below
Proud priest and Pharisee and scribe.
For such to preach or teach
Within those holy temple walls
Was tantamount to blasphemy –
Just like that other man from Galilee.
No problem that
For two apostles bold,
Fresh-fired by God
To minister his mighty word
And heal a cripple forty years from birth.
Unscared by priestly threats,
They blazed the scene
With resurrection life.
Unlearned and ignorant maybe,
But far above proud priest
And Pharisee and scribe
Supreme they stood,
And spoke those holy words,
“There is no other name
By which we must be saved.”
And rulers, elders, scribes and haughty priests
Compelled to marvel
And to note
“These men had been with Jesus.”
Read about it in Acts chapter 4.
I am Nobody:
no name on my grave
in the Veterans’ Cemetery --
not even certain if all parts
match – those bombs really
had no personal objective when
targeting and dispatched –
Their bull’s eyes~ all Enemy.
I am Nobody; don’t earn
a lot, after your release from
the hospital, once healed,
you never met the EMT
who feverishly pumped life
into your failing lungs, during your
rushed, siren screaming journey
through unyielding traffic --
probably never thanked the nurse
in the ER, with a name-tag,
often gone unread – Oh, you met
the doctor, who earns all the big
bread – He has a noble title – he
has lauded fame – unlike Nobodies
more or less, diminutive
the same – just Nobody --
the Nobodies who build the bridges
repair the roads
pickup the garbage
often given little more mention
than prince-less pond toads –
when I croak, Just a slimy
soak – in society, most Nobodies
die broke – soggy, irrelevant
pond splashes –
Only rich when considering love...
Hey Jimmy
I wonder
Is there salt in heaven
How many parrots can sit on the head of a needle
What are we going to do come Monday
The oldest surfer in the skies
Has Left one particular harbor
Beginning his trip around the sun
Leaving us behind
Nobodies from nowhere
Looking for Margaritaville
And a friend named Jimmy
But he’s gone
Raise your glass to the son of a sailor
Tip a toast
Why don’t we get drunk
It’s going to be a Livingston Saturday Night
Hey Jimmy
I wonder
Is there salt in heaven
it happened just as I say it did:
I was ten or sometime after.
late for school,
running uphill
then I stopped running
and walked into an open field
knowing I was nobodies problem.
I left town following a disused railway track
and never turned back
except the ending of this story
has been rewritten by time
for that same day,
like a wet dog
coming in from the rain
I returned.
This is my story, my telling.
It was a Monday morning
in a time that never existed.
In a past that was fictional
until it was revealed as a plot
writing by a man-made ghost-writer,
nevertheless it became this yesterday,
this legend told to a child.
Even though Mondays keep turning up
as regular as clock-work hamsters,
or as wheel walking somnambulists
all those faceless namesakes
called forth by a light-eating moon.
Even though that particular page
in a fading paperback was not recorded
but only jotted down on a slice of burnt toast
at the time,
it happened just as I say it deed.
I was ten or sometime after.
I was late for school,
I was running uphill
knowing I would get a detention slip
and then I stopped
and walked into an open field
knowing I was nobodies problem.
I left town following a disused railway track
and never turned back
but then I must have
because the following week
Monday returned like a wet dog
coming in from the rain.
And that is that
except it's all very hazy,
however the day after Sunday
keeps returning now
to haunt my disappearing footsteps.
When it’s a choice they blame a disease,
then are annoyed upset so they eat,
subliminal messaging, society,
they see a pie they eat what they see
you are what you eat and it’s clear to me
the last meal you ate was a big ugly fatty
You sit eat get lazy and sleep
wake up and do the same on repeat
nobodies preference you know rejection
it’s not a choice but natural selection
blame being single on discrimination
not through attraction as you have none
You’re going to die young you’re gonna be sick
you’ll never admit you’re a food addict
who hasn’t the discipline to be healthy or fit
if you want positivity then go and earn it.
They lay entombed, the stone cut’s humor rife:
A Doe, his dear, between them lies his knife.
----------
H/T to Nobodies Forgot by James Starkey III
We play these little games with each other. We sift through the sands. Try to find something so precious. A winning hand.
We smile and acknowledge through gritted teeth. The flaws of ourselves we accept of can’t be used by these strange nobodies.
We spend our whole lives concealing our truths. The truths about one’s lies, one’s wrongs. We ingeniously always find the excuse for each scar on our souls.
The framed outline in the mirror that we catch looking back. It is in the world of humans, a human with a left and right side.
But, look deep into its eyes behind the face with the smile. It is no perfection, in those eyes there is no true light.
It is at best - half wrong and half right.
I empty...that I may be filled;
I fast, so that the filling even
greater for the added hunger –
I am a vessel, at the pleasure
of Christ. He that pours into
me, knows the intimate nature
of my heart, to serve our Father
in all capacity – I admit not life
outside of God. Christ's pure essence,
which I freely willfully breathe in,
is my source and all sustenance
needed – I stand back, that
I may follow – I pause, that He
may start me – Christ is the
bread of my body, the juice
of my blood, the pulsing joy
of my being – I focus on His
mirror brightness, capturing image,
warmth of reflection, that I may shine
onto others...a mere copy. We are
nobodies, cold shadows, when missing
the beaming luster of Christ-presence
Divine.
Was I a bit too real for you
too raw, like meat bleeding on the butcher’s block
too honest like an angel
as I stripped the skin from my flesh
flesh from my bones
put every prickling nerve on display
every taut tendon
Did it frighten you to learn the truth
of what lies beneath the searing burns and scars
below the surface as if I’ve been lashed
by the thorny branches of a honey locust tree
Did you find yourself choking on your rank hypocrisy
Your pathetic platitudes about love
empty mewlings about empathy
as you stand there stolidly silent
setting yourself apart from all the nobodies
behind your walls, your fences to protect your privacy
when you know damn well their true purpose is to prevent
what you don’t want intruding
in your perfect fantasy of champagne soirees
your loafers polished to a high shine
black mirrors in which you can see yourself
instead of us, instead of me
From those festering wounds my words come
the poetry I pen, the rhymes I wrangle, the worlds I write
searching for a guiding light
someone to share this journey
Political leaders take countries to war,
making decisions that are political,
done to ensure they are voted for,
domestic approval and nothing more.
Biden couldn't have got it more wrong,
clearly this President is a total moron,
it doesn't matter how long it's gone on,
you don't just leave if you still belong.
I wonder if Biden even understands,
the world he has left for those Afghans,
the victory clearly that of the Talibans,
how can you not tell your allies the plans!!
Isolating the US from your allies overseas,
with this absolute shambles exit strategy,
this is how superpowers become nobodies,
the worst military mistake in our history!!
Watch China buy and reverse engineer
equipment that gave your enemies fear,
American time at the top ends right here,
international respect slowly disappears
For 20 long years it was a war you'd won,
now the legacy tells a different outcome,
all of those sacrifices can't be undone,
yet the terror awaiting us surly will come!
Bodies at the morgue
seem to be waiting
for partners …
Waiting, waiting still
like nothing.
Bodies at the morgue
seem to be so
for good …
So poor and dull and so
low.
Bodies today;
nobodies tomorrow.
for the pain is there so i feel
i know for the cut is real
it covers the past like a blanket
for if i don't cut i won't forget it
tried drugs and alcohol
but they did not do anything at all
thought taking my life would help
but they ended up saving this whelp
i had nobody who could of saved me
when i told i unfortunately became a detainee
started getting crafty with each cut
pin strip lines, art somewhat
now i am 58 and my life is new
don't know, how i grew
but i was able to talk about the abuse
and in my heart i made a truce
i was able to forgive the predator
and fall in love with my creator
not saying that this will work for you
but today i am nobodies fool
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