Salt a gin and tonic,
It’s too dry.
Assault my temple with sin,
Be honest,
You like the rye.
Look me in my honest eye,
Conversations with myself are the fondest,
Because no one understands me better when I rhyme.
Took a pen and across the paper it slides,
Scribble out the oddest lines.
Apply pressure to the page,
Trickle out ink until the pen has died.
Wet ink is promised to eventually dry,
But tomorrow isn’t promised,
For some reason I can’t help but question why?
After four portions of Moët fine wine,
I tend to think of life as if it’s all just a waste of time.
If tomorrow could be withdrawn then what’s the point of the “grand design”?
If tomorrow I wake up past dawn,
Should I consider myself only one step closer to dying?
Don’t overstep,
The temple has redrawn the walls and implores you to walk within the lines.
It’s not perfect,
But nothing’s wrong with second best.
When it stops hurting,
In comes walking Sudden Death.
We can’t always be our very best,
Attempting perfect,
It feels like burning,
The scars left behind showcase regret.
A challah is a braided bread -
With butter, it’s delish.
It looks impressive when it’s whole
And waiting on a dish.
But when it’s time to eat it,
Many raise a bread knife - but,
It’s so much better with a piece
Ripped from the loaf - not cut.
I always grab a hunk this way;
Its texture, so enticing,
Is pillowy and soft and doesn’t
Taste the same with slicing.
Here’s one more tip - some bakers
Overstep and are quite brazen,
But to me, it is a shonda*
Eating challah filled with raisin.
*a disgrace
Enjoyable till they overstep they're welcome
The words ‘God did’ is a general phrase
Looking at it we need to remove the haze
This investigation might amaze some and alarm some
The phrase ‘God did’ is used worldwide
But will often collide with the sole truth revealed in the Bible!
Culturally used
It is often abused to appease
The convictions of the mind!
Often when you do bad
You want to find ways to do good to overstep the bad!
Then, you feel mentally better
This is often seen in many of the letters Paul wrote
The Bible is very clear that no one comes to God the Father
Except through Jesus Christ!
Jesus cannot be bypassed and
Many today are doing it so they give credit to God
For stuff, He did not even do!
They never specify his name!
This is a common error
The terror of trying to bypass Jesus
Will be felt in the aftermath!
‘God did’ vs ‘Jesus did’
Will play out until the end of time!
Any individual of any culture can use the phrase ‘God did’
And it refers to God in their cultural context
So for those serving God, the Father
Remember that Jesus did…
Mark Frank
Copyright 2022
each step
down an overstep
emacing
defacing
the pond's complexion
and its inflexion
reflection
If you think you have missed the Year of the Ox, no worries my friend.
Chinese say it begins on February the 12th and follows 2021 to the end.
Year of the Ox promotes hard work, positivity and honesty for sure.
It is reputed to be calm, patient, methodical, and agreeably pure.
If you happen to be an Ox personality, then 2021 is definitely for you.
She will show off her colors patiently and calmly with loyalty of blue.
She is methodical, trustworthy, with happy repercussions you will like.
There will be a methodical reliable pattern to her, and hardly any strife.
In a mere twenty-one days, the Year of the Ox we can fully depend.
She will inspire confidence throughout the world, for Ox is your friend.
She will not overstep, annoy, stir up trouble, cry, scream or wail.
Her soothing ways will calm down the feelings of the world, without fail.
If you think you have missed the Year of the Ox, no worries my friend.
Chinese say it begins on February the 12th and follows 2021 to the end.
Year of the Ox promotes hard work, positivity and honesty for sure.
It is reputed to be calm, patient, methodical, and agreeably pure.
If you happen to be an Ox personality, then 2021 is definitely for you.
She will show off her colors patiently and calmly with loyalty of blue.
She is methodical, trustworthy, with happy repercussions you will like.
There will be a methodical reliable pattern to her, and hardly any strife.
In a mere twenty-one days, the Year of the Ox we can fully depend.
She will inspire confidence throughout the world, for Ox is your friend.
She will not overstep, annoy, stir up trouble, cry, scream or wail.
Her soothing ways will calm down the feelings of the world, without fail.
Nirveda (sansk.) - aversion to existence
"The existent there is no cessation". Bhagavat Gita, 2.16
Addicted to existence, I may slain
or, maybe, they may slain me. I may die
a hero or, unknown, die in vain.
I may live righteously, I may abstain
from sins like Abel. Or, vice versa, I
may overstep the laws of God like Cain.
None of that matters! Destined to exist,
scourged by two demons, life and death, I plea
for non-being, nothingness, for sweetest tryst
with dreamless dream. Oh, woe is me! Deceased
or full of hateful life, I have to be
until I understand the very gist
of cruel, God knows whom invented notion
that long drained streams must flow into the ocean.
aba, aba, bcb, bcb, dd. I have no idea what this form is called. If not called yet, I hereby anoint you a Terzonnet)
She senses a strange feeling in her heart,
less than full-blown, and yet more than a thought.
It's not quite love, but it could be its start:
for it's hard to pin down, it shifts a lot.
Fantasies that make her giggle inside
get stored in her vault of secret wishes.
There, sensual feelings get amplified,
like mud between your toes, when it squishes.
She gradually lights up with a smile,
fantasizing about her first lover.
And leaving reality for a while:
seeks feelings she has yet to discover.
And she searches for any telltale signs
feelings may be signaling love's approach.
And yet, she'll not overstep moral lines
for her character is beyond reproach.
I once used to be chirpy bubbly,
I once used to laugh on my fall.
I find myself now dull and quite.
how did I end up here of all.
how did I forget my smile,
did I just let it slip away,
help me fathom the haul.
I used to share my every bit,
I used to open up my soul.
how did I end up concealing my self,
how did i end up in a box.
I can see the warmth of touch,
but feel nothing at all.
there were times when i chatted merrily,
in one breath, without a thought.
now I pause my self to think,
did I overstep my line,
or did I mutter something wrong.
this is is so unlike me,
but some how it is me.
I still love the old me,
but the cautious me
has taken the reins.
Doomed are those who nature's laws overstep for the wrath of cosmic justice will face!
© Demetrios Trifiatis
26 July 2017
NOT IN MY NAME
NOT IN MY NAME WILL I LET
YOU OVERSTEP MY DREAMS
NOT BY MY HEART WILL I ALLOW
YOU TO PULL ME DOWN
IT IS BY MY SENSE OF LIVING
THAT I AM DIGNIFIED
WE ARE ALL GIVEN A CHANCE
TO PAVE OURSELVES BUT
WHO ARE THEY TO TALK BEHIND OUR BACKS
AND MAKE EVERYTHING WE DO SEEM AT FAULT
NOT BY MY NAME WILL I ALLOW THAT TO HAPPEN
IT IS BY MY NAME FOR WHO I HAVE BECOME
I HAVE COME TOO FAR FROM WHERE I STARTED FROM
NOT BY MY NAME WILL I ALLOW ANY OF YOU
TO DESTROY WHAT IS NEARLY IN MY HANDS.NOT IN MY NAME
Though comatose,
i reflect on those,
grim spirits of disaster,
some do claim Abraham an Moses,
That God is yet their master,
Slaughter cannot be divine,
a bloody karmic pantomime,
the will of God does make it shine,
I will ask in the hereafter.
thank you Mr Maverick's "Insurging".
Don Johnson
God is used to justfy,
selfserving sods misquote the why,
to serve their point of view with passion,
and overstep their rightful ration,
oftimes...
A waking up, do I, Dark Poet, need
to shake my creature core from sheltered sleep.
A seed has taken root as bitter weed
that sprouts from disappointments buried deep
inside me, where a well-hid wild thing
with armored skin lifts groggy head to breathe.
No fire escapes its mouth, for it must cling
to courtesy although its blood should seethe.
If roused, the beast could overstep its bounds
and though I’ve tamed it well, I sometimes hear
in dusky dreams its melancholy sounds.
Before the dawn its murmurs disappear.
On bitter weed subsists my dragon child.
Oh, should I let it rest. . . or wake the wild?
For Irma's Dark Poet contest
How elders sought the dictate of the boundaries,
with insipid lines on arid parchment traced,
warnings not to overstep the distance,
for beyond is where the land is laid to waste.
Beyond is where the many headed serpents
coil and writhe and wriggle on the rock,
and breathe out streams of such outlandish fire
that it burns interpretation in the flock.
Beyond is where the bravest of the angels
turn aside and always fear to tread,
and where there are such infinitely worse things
than snipe and lay pedestrian with the dead.
The elders love their boundaries established,
and for all to then remain within their span,
for only should the realms of gods transcend them,
and forever they outstrip the realms of man.
Their norms decreed to not out-pace the shadow,
or think beyond the world they understand,
yet breeds fear for the thoughts of other dreamers
who may seek the world beyond the hinterland.
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