Now for the long flight home feeling lost in present roam
Reliving our past days, weeks, my minds in wanting comb
Her smile, her charm, her look of warm, inviting adorn
We walked, we talked, but we never baulked our future born
Now eight thousand miles from each other, but, just yesterday
We joked, we laughed, we kissed, we cried, our us, in display
No sooner back, our paths grew strong, another flight booked
Her parents I meet, our paster we seek, yea, we're hooked
Forested walks, and more we talked, her family we're graced
Near future plans, to be adorned, two families soon embraced
Rizal statue, countryside, amidst its lush, two hearts beside
Balai Gloria's wish, two blessings futures bliss, we're now allied
Once again, against our grain, Manila bound, our hearts ground
Knowing that soon we'll be as one, soon to share sacred sounds
I'm standing on the external, Ninoy - Manila, waving blind goodbye
She never turned, turnaround, me too, we're too emotional in cry
X
The schooner
On the flatland between the vales, I could see the sea
I had walked uphill for a long time, after the downhill
and the way to the coast, it was easy, but it was
getting cold, I wore a light navy uniform (Furlough)
I saw a protest house of worship on its own no other
Houses nearby this place would do.
I fell asleep, awoke and heard organ music, the church
full of matelotes singing psalms; the paster spoke
of redemption and the glory of God.
I saw a superb sunrise continued my walk to the coast.
In the morning an open café, I told the girl behind the
counter, where I had slept, she looked confused as far
as she knew the church had been torn down, it was
built of planks when of a schooner ran aground with
the loss of all hands.
Imagine! She lived in a China for five years
And come back asking me
“How are your knees?
But see here child
They are as strong as ever
If you please
“Oh no Mama
I’m only speaking Chinese”
Yesterday, I heard her said
To Paster Ned
“Come saw me da”
I got so embarrassed
I had to tell him “Sorry ya”
Later, I told her don’t do it again
She said, she was only speaking Korean.
She’s my daughter
But I had to ask her
What happened to your Jamaican?
It’s perfectly fine to continue speaking like the English man.
So, where ever you go and you come back here
Make sure to not confuse me,
Or you elder
I know you travel and learnt a lot a language
But when you come back here, don’t talk you garbage
Stick to your common Jamaican
Or the words of the Englishman.
welcome to heaven,
its nice and beautiful inside
dreams of wonder that nobody can't hide
clouds that guide so smooth.
and the stars that fly so digentily..
or how the angels keep so quiet.
and how the sheep goes down to the paster
plus how the green grass blows down to the
beautiful meadows .
the man said welcome to heaven
and welcome to the most beautiful place
in the land...
Best friend that you were,
You touched my life in many ways,
You were the one who I trusted,
You were the one who I thought was a real friend,
You make people over whelmed,
With what you say to them about God,
You make me insane and other run away,
You are a believer in Christ, but you lie
In my face, you persists others,
And drag there hand to know Christ,
You are bad at presenting God,
Yet you went to school to become a worst paster,
You are nothing but a show off,
You are not there when I needed you the most,
You walked away like others do,
As you told me me once,
Will never forget,
"I don't want to be lower than you."
It says it all in short words.
Ever since that moment,
You compete with me just to prove it to me,
You change over night,
Like no one knows who you are,
Like a invisible ghost that walks.
warm tears fall from my weakened eyes to the tathered ground
as my ears begain to silence the sound
shadows of evil surround my presents
as spirits of light fall in my essence
my brother....
my brother....
your nearing the light
just try to repent and continue your fight
as the paster raise my hands in this joyous occasion
i felt the spirits of darkness evasion
the invasion of my lord enter my personal equation
now what is going to be my ceremonial occasion?
my eyes begain to brighten i am no longer lost
as the city of fallen angels start to pay their own cost.
audible by design, cheating fate playing as life's protector
you had me fooled, with blinking and what not
caring on as, you pushed out your white powered of illness
but it did not wash my black away
my illness is but away to let me see
you planed with great care to take my life form from me~
i want only to see your good name paster all over the news
and for other to know that in your blood.... line
only hate will appear~ with money and sin taken with smilies
so that in your death other will curse your name...
and see that those that came from your fruit...
are but arsenic by design~
aka:lyricvixen
Web Page Reader
We need a new device inside the computer with a control icon installed on the
screen a shortcut to direct me to the web page reader. Instead of opening my
web page and copy and paste the text eye open up the web page reader and it
does the rest. It copies the whole web page one page at a time and seven
hundred poems are then open online. Eye then have my hyperlink to open all of
them AT ONCE and there is no more work to be found to do the computer then
has made us useless as a copy and paster tool.
The people rule.
To walk through a paster full of
wild flowers, up to her West.
To sit under the shade tree's, with
the one she loves.
To lie in the cool grass at night
staring at the moon and stars talking about forever.
To listen to the stories from the old' days,
told by an old' cowboy.
To lie in the cool grass in the light of day,
listening to the birds singing.
To sit in a swing and listen to the
rain on a tin roof.
To walk down an old dirt road,
that has long not been travailed.
A cowgirl's dream is not only like
the words to a country love song,
But is the dream of all dreams that
gives her the freedom she longs for.