Obsess with the color of skin
do you ever see a person
Judge by perceived beliefs
not by a conversation
Every person has a soul
each created by God
in His image
Yet base all emotion
on skin color.
Walk a mile in his moccasins
or only see a pigmentation
with judgement based solely on that.
I myself am not perfect
I am a blend of humanity
trying to live and let live with peace.
Cannot see what is seen by some
to know everything about an individual
just by skin color.
Simple minds believe simple things
When you fall in love, true love
do you see a person, a spirit, a soulmate
Or are you busy checking off
a skin color match first.
Love is blind
Hate sees what it believes
Safety in comfort, similar, likeness
Color of skin important
is it everything
The mind of being human within Divine
our heart is who we are and to become.
Each day begins with pain refined to grace,
her body bent but never breaking—not yet.
The mirror has no room for soft embrace.
A leap, a turn—each muscle must erase
the doubt that lingers like a hidden debt.
Each day begins with pain refined to grace.
The music calls, a disciplined and silent chase,
no step misplaced, no ragged breath to fret.
The mirror has no room for soft embrace.
Bunions and blisters bloom where satin ribbons lace,
for pirouettes she doth obsess, refusing to pause or let~
each day begins with pain refined to grace.
The stage demands what training can’t replace:
a will that burns but never leaves a sweat.
The mirror has no room for soft embrace.
And when the final curtain begins to close,
the aches remain, ghosts the ballerina does not forget.
Each day begins with pain refined to grace.
The mirror holds no room for soft embrace.
What is that awareness by which each body-mind feels alive and becomes aware? ~ by Sponsor
What does the butterfly see
when it looks at me
with those ten thousand eyes
within eyes?
~ by Poet
I see the butterfly, I see the flower,
I see the sky in all of its power,
I feel the wind, I feel the heat
I hear the noise of this world’s conceit.
Is the butterfly wise as it flutters nearby,
or is it simply beautiful nature’s gadfly~
insects don’t laugh, insects don’t cry,
life is awry and I must question why?
Why do I obsess?
(Because it is dense.)
The algorithms?
(It makes no sense!)
With the dawn of each new day
I realize this more and more
There is something I need to say
That I never really could before
Not because I didn't want too
Just chose to keep it inside
So now I confess to you
For with you I now confide
I count each second precious
As if it were my very last
Just to be in your beautiful presence
Even though the time goes very fast
I could go on about your smile
But there is more to you I know
There's also beauty in your eyes
You make the world around you glow
Even on the darkest day
When storms are at their worst
Just the very sight of you-drives the storm clouds away
So, with my sadness completely reversed
There's calmness in your voice
That puts my soul at rest
With your laughter bringing me joy
And your happiness leaving me refreshed
So, there is no other way to say
With all my heart I have to confess
This message I'm going to convey
Everything about you I seem to obsess
We are all living life in a darker shade of blue.
Depressing ourselves, vacillating on aspirations
and other youthful ideas of jubilation
that we were never able to see through.
We sit in the shadows wailing about our pasts.
Wasting time
thinking about failed chances.
Lost romances.
And other "Memory lane" garbage
never meant to last.
We need to stop living in these old lamentations
giving us nothing but heartache and frustration.
We need to stop giving into Satan's self-pitying plans.
Get ourselves up and take a stand.
Remembering that Jesus Christ is our Lord, the Great Son of Man.
Our God came to save us; He came to crash our sins to their cores.
So that we would not have to obsess about our yesterdays anymore.
Because, we know full well.
That Jesus, our Lamb,
can save us from these self-made hells.
So now is the time
to be released.
By Jesus Christ,
our Mighty God
and Prince of Peace.
Freed from these
darker shades of blue.
Released into a life
that He makes brand new.
Satan GHOSTLY haunt dirty men
He looks like a GOSSAMER adviser
He is not found in GRAVE so man may rest in peace
Satan for sure loves GODFORSAKEN places
Satan followers shall have GRIEF-STRICKEN end because of loss and deprivation
GROANING is main result of opening gate for Satan to comes in and obsess
The chaos in my heart
Won’t allow for anything less
Than feeling love amplified
Heightened, magnified, buzzing
Intensity to the extreme
To care for is to cherish
To want is to yearn for
To miss is to crave
I don’t love, I consume
I encapsulate and devour
I envelope and obsess
My soul cannot bear the thought
Of living without love
Love is non-mechanical
it doesn’t crank, pinion
or always work dependably.
In cavalier moments, I thought I knew
something of how it all works—
it’s apertures and shafts—
its grinds and reciprocations.
I’d judge it’s motions
work its levers, judge its spins,
and address its slippery angles.
You could call me obsessive
but obsessive people don’t
obsess this much.
You could call me compulsive
but the compulsive aren't
this compulsive.
All I can do is poise, balance
or swipe a little black credit card.
It’s the only magic I have.
I can’t turn bread into wine
or fish into water.
I can’t make the blind walk
the deaf to see or the lame to
taste again.
God reserves some miracles,
keeps them as close to the vest
as cards.
Jugglers work the circus,
mimes thrash to communicate,
and tightrope walkers fall.
.
.
Songs for this:
Viva la vida by Cold Play
When There Is Love by Karen Sokolof Javitch
The Rainbow Connection by Sarah McLachlan
.
.
How about a Christmas playlist! Because Christmas is in 10 days!
www.daweb.us/xmas/Christmas_29.mp3
What’s our love index,
if out of sight, out of mind,
is our orientation?
We do not obsess
on forms that are manifest,
knowing God’s omnipresence.
My feet touches the bottom land
As my feeling start to quiver damn
Scratching those toes on silty sand
In the hope I can find a clam.
Fortune pay a price in waiting
Inch by inch I'm starting to find
Boulders of clam in seabed setting
Excitement painting my mind.
Labor showing enthusiasm I confess
A hungry belly want to cook an obsess
All in all a happy one sack we possess
A laborious day harvest of clam a success.
They seem more active at certain times
Not just at day or at night but
When you are in a battle with your faith
Ghosts can help you or be your nemesis
The ghosts of loved ones who passed
Often seem to invade dreams
They are messengers or perhaps
They are us and we are them reflecting
The darkness and light of our present life
Ghosts of loss and of ambitions
Fruition of destiny we should welcome
But we fear the unknown perhaps
Because we have yet to know
Our own ghosts well enough
To call them by name
Fearing pink brain to be insane
Rather than face the reality
That ghosts live inside of you and me
All the things we wish to be
All that we are all that we know
But more so our ignorance and stupidity
Stirred in a poetic soul food
Feeding that which we obsess over
We don’t have to wait till October
To see a ghost for we have them close
Whether we want to acknowledge it or not
June 04, 2024 For Anoucheka Gangabissoon Contest
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Thrilling explorations enlivened with adventure,
As my soul longs for a most special blue venture.
The indulgent warmth of the sun revitalized me,
Once having landed in this paradisiacal arcady.
Palm twigs drift in a gentle breeze,
Infinite stretches of exquisite white sand seas.
Crystal-clear waters define a sapphire-sand idyll,
Archipelago of high-quality atoll and island tidal.
The locals saluted me with such a wide smile,
Their warmth and compassion are a lifestyle.
Finding heaven filled me with immense pride,
Embraced by the breathtaking scenery to abide.
Weeks turned into months, and days went away,
As I danced beneath the sky, I felt freed to sway.
However, an enormous urge sprang from inside,
For the sake of my native nation and kin pride.
I finally reached a choice as time passed,
I started to obsess over my house, never stashed.
The island, however, will stay in my mind,
I retain them as a spiritual treasure left behind.
These fleeting moments we're living today
are glimpses slipping into distant yesterday,
their remembrance is stored in consciousness;
on the cold death bed, they'll reappear to obsess!
As a toddler who's let alone in his crib,
he experiences terror on the early dawn;
her amiable voice will calm him down;
we are no different and start to sob!
He came out of her bloody womb
and his first scream was too aloud,
and drinking milk from her nipples he was glad;
he's very old now, and she's in her dark tomb!
We welcome everything except death,
and turning away with an uneasy frown,
we show much contempt towards our fate, and again,
we follow the long trail of denial and run out of breath!
These fleeting moments we are living today,
have a dire warning tone to live time wisely;
waste it to fulfill ambitions not offering joys
but pride: it will escape from egotistical minds!
Your nicknames come to mind.
Those silly names we used all the time.
We’d call you over.
We still remember…
Now all we have are the echos.
Of the names we used to know.
Your real name no longer makes me cry.
But “Sweetheart” brings a tear to my eye.
I remember,
That time in December.
You climbed the Christmas Tree.
We called you “Wild Thing.”
Sometimes, you were “Princess.”
We would obsess.
And now you are “Angel.”
No longer in this world we know.
Welcome to the land of love and blood.
Welcome to the land of milk and honey,
but never stumble and fall in the mud.
Stay on the path that's bright and sunny.
Don't you ever bow down to the god of money.
Don't ever succumb to the hell that is greed.
Don't you ever fall in that trap; it ain't funny.
Don't obsess on what you want; focus on what you need.
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