Lost in the labyrinth of my mind,
Bound by despair, with no respite to find.
My heart's chained to this life of strife,
Though all around me, family tries,
To break through my resistance and unite.
But I push them away, despite their plight,
Fear of rejection gnaws at my heart.
Dad's faith in me seems distant and apart,
Sister struggles to comprehend my pain,
Trapped in repetition, my story unfolds,
The same mistakes, the same role.
Mom tries her best, but I stumble and fall,
Yet I persist in this cycle cold.
In the depths of our being, where thoughts intertwine with uncertain dreams,
there lies an error born from the womb of time, like an echo of origins,
the belief that we exist solely to embrace happiness as a cloak of light,
but as long as we persist in this illusion that dances on the edge of the abyss,
and even allow ourselves to be convinced by optimistic dogmas promising clear skies,
the world appears to us full of contradictions, like a labyrinth of deceptive mirrors,
where the shadows of truth break into distorted and ephemeral reflections,
for in the pursuit of happiness we overlook the depth of cosmic silences,
where each moment of clarity is a gift from the universe whispering secrets,
yet we, thirsty for the absolute, chase illusions like children thirsty for stories,
while life flows like a silent river in the valley of time, without waiting for us,
and thus, we learn to look beyond the thin veil of fleeting expectations,
seeking hidden meanings in every whisper of the wind that blows among the stars,
and in every shadow that dances on the walls of our hearts, longing for peace.
Do you have a poetic licence
to park your pitiful purple prose
(alliteratively he wrote)
it even puts my poor feet to sleep
and gives me painful coma toes
(literally did he quote)
And have you paid your syn tax
to persist in paltry poetry
(a non sequitur perhaps)
as dabbling in sad scribbling
is how your paean 'ppears to me
(no storied scripts mere scraps)
Before paper and pen you pick up
or possibly parchment and quill
(pheasant not porcupine)
please procrastinate perchance to ponder
prior to putting out pig in a poke swill
(pearls of wisdom before swine)
He is the God who can make it happen
Stand up and believe the Good News
The God of the Impossible is ready
Your faith in Him is steady
Dreaming beyond the call of duty is essential to your legacy
He is the God who can make it happen
God the Father is here to assist you
You need to persist in your faith because
He is the God who can make it happen
Stand up and believe the Good News
Mark Frank
Copyright 2025
They (the Legacy media) persist in their use of deceptive practices with the intent to obfuscate what is true. They conveniently avoid facts, that are known, intending to mislead those who are superficially engaged.
The freedoms granted to the media by our constitution, as intended, was for the protection of the masses against rogue governments and or political abuses.
However principled the intentions of our forefathers in granting this freedom of the press, they would most certainly be appalled by the ongoing, intentional distorting of what is true, and what is currently being disseminated to the public by the majority of legacy media.
Today's abundance of available media sources, for those who seek what's true, only adds to the confusion and mistrust of this information. The media's use of their platforms to promote an agenda, or for the purpose of propaganda to benefit a political party or political outcome, is exactly why we are no longer,
(United States)!
November 16 Praises to God Bible Meditations Based on Acts 11-13
Key Verse – Acts 11:23 Who, when he came, and had seen the grace of God, was glad, and exhorted them all, that with purpose of heart they would cleave unto the Lord.
PRAISE BE TO GOD FOR EXHORTING US
TO CLEAVE UNTO THE LORD
Praise be to God for exhorting us to cleave unto the Lord with His:
Greatness girding us toward godliness
Graciousness gripping us against our grief
Goodness governing us midst His generosity
Gladness glowing around us along His gentleness
Guidance granting us Gospel-goaded greeting against gloom
Acts 12:5 Praise be to the Lord for making us
persist in prayer that:
Moves by His might
Manifests His majesty
Multiplies His miracles
Magnifies His magnificence
Meets us with His mercy’s marvels
Acts 13:47 Praise be to the Saviour for
setting us to be a light with Him for our:
Holiness against wickedness
Healing along healthy wellness
Hope toward His heavenly ways
Help since He is our Head worthy to worship
Happiness against hateful and haughty worldliness. Amen!
November 16, 2024
Across the landscape of broken dreams
There is a lack of a vision it seems.
In the journey of suffering and of faith
The rewards of joy are a long wait.
The prayers are fervent and sustained
The answers are not, only silence remains.
To continue on could be such a waste
Because there is no comfort in this state.
Yet I persist in this deep dark fog
Awaiting answers from a mysterious God.
Blinded by our hearts, we often find ourselves entangled in gates adorned with clear red flags,
yet our hearts persist in the pursuit of a
matching heart. We surrender every fiber of our being to one soul, until our affection becomes a burden too heavy to bear alone. They take, our every effort for granted, and toy with our emotions and beliefs.
But love, oh love, how it blinds us so!
We plunge further down the rabbit hole,
falling prey of occasional sweet words and
tender gestures, though we sense the fading
storm. Trapped, with no way out, we remain
glued to them, ensnared by the grip of our own impassioned folly.
Why should I conform to man’s rules? Why persist in this facade? Even if I tell you to cast aside worry, your retort might be, “Why should I?” Jonathan’s soul intertwined with David’s, love binding them as one. But you—do you desire to be shackled by societal norms? Speak now: “Why should I?”
The Lord’s thoughts toward you are of peace, not evil. A future and hope await. Yet, I foresee skeptics in the streets this November, clamoring, “Why reelect Mr. Trump? Why indeed?” Ah, the allure of divine laws! Sweeter than honey, they linger on my tongue. Have you tasted the Lord’s goodness? Some unbelievers scoff, “Why bother?”
The Holy Spirit recalls my words to you. So, why should I heed your voice?
In November's chill on Rana Mohal's lane,
She showed me a shawl, dreams to attain,
Her last wish lingered, a poignant refrain,
But with 125 rupees, my hands feel restrained.
COVID's cruel grasp in GMC Doda's embrace,
Snatched her away, leaving an empty space,
Two cherished shirts I sold with a heavy heart,
To honor her wish, a fragile start.
Wrapped in that shawl, morning's pale light,
Clings to my half-dead soul's fading sight,
I breathe, yet the question echoes, unkind,
Why persist in this world, a heart confined?
Her love lingers, a tranquil sleep's embrace,
But my nights echo, devoid of solace or grace,
No one to rouse, no gentle voice to say,
"Kya kar ra ho?" in each lonely day.
I exist in the shadows of memories past,
Aching to make each moment last,
Yet her absence weighs, a burden I bear,
In a world devoid of her tender care.
In this solitary existence, I strive to survive,
Aching heart, wounded, yet somehow alive,
But in every breath, in each moment's glow,
I carry her wish, her love, her enduring glow.
______ The Shameless Bird, perched high with glee,
Barks at the tree, as bold as can be.
I offered food for its family's delight,
Yet it barks at me, a curious sight.
Just like this bird, so shamelessly free,
Some people in life act quite similarly.
Ignoring kindness, they persist in their ways,
Ungrateful and bold, through all of their days.
But let's not judge too harshly, you see,
For life's a complex tapestry.
Sometimes, the shameless have lessons to share,
In their boldness, they may reveal what's rare.
So, observe the Shameless Bird with a smile,
And ponder the lessons it may compile.
For in its audacity, there might just be,
A glimpse of ourselves, both wild and free.
In slumber's embrace, whispers do creep,
Guiding my heart where affections do seep,
Dreams, like morning mist, can quickly evade,
Yet the voices persist, in memory's cascade.
Love's tender murmur or thoughts on a ride,
In echoes they linger, side by side,
Desires of lost love or vows to keep,
Invisible threads that emotions steep.
Chatter of kin that rouses me from night,
Guiding me forward, seeking their light,
Inspiration's whisper my soul does feed,
In the void, it's the compass I heed.
Dreams born of mind's current, voices they bear,
States of my being find their voice in the air,
Joy paints the dreams, a melody complete,
While silence breeds nightmares, voices entreat.
Never let anyone make you feel small. Stay strong and courageous. You are worthy of love and kindness.
Memories from 2020:
New poem... small.
Some people are awful examples of humanity. They persist in remaining unrelenting bullies and power hungry control freaks... Destroying people, lives and careers when and where they can... Just because they can. But every action comes at a cost. They eventually pay the price in full.
small
By Michelle Morris
07/06/2020
you tried to make
me feel so
small
insignificant
worthless
to all
because you
hated yourself
so deeply
my pureness
of heart and
spirit
cut into your
darkness
completely
but instead of
learning
embracing
being kind
you wanted me
gone
completely
out of sight
out of mind
so you could
forever remain
small in
yourself
but delude the
world
that you were
larger than life
and karma she is a
gracious b****
who burns the
wickedly
darkened twists
and someday
burning in
hell fire you'll be
wishing you'd been
better
kinder to me
© Michelle Morris, 2020
Burnt wood, carved deep
Adrift in seas, the essence of sleep
blades bleed, cuts seep
create mysteries
the glass is in a fractured age
is vast finalize run
Around a forgotten sun
Of burnt wood n ash
I am lost in objects of art or form.
Like stone built to last
Burnt wood
broken glass
All are cast
All is encompassing
Burnt at last
Some things persist in memory
of memories
in a forgotten history
I’ve never been fond of blackberry cobbler
--I’ll pass, too, on the blackberry sorbet--
Too many seeds get caught in my teeth,
Dentures may change my mind someday.
Give me raspberries, softer and sweeter,
With a taste which excels the blackberry
They make a deliciously tasty berry parfait,
Hands down, they’re my favorite in dairy.
Blackberry jams have way too much seed
If you want the taste with toast, try jelly,
But I would suggest you go for apple butter
--On this many of my friends are agreed--
If you persist in your love of the blackberry
Willing to pick them, do avoid the thorns,
I’d suggest you get a very good toothpaste
To clean your teeth and the smile you carry.
Written August 7, 2022
Submitted to “Your Thoughts on Blackberries” Poetry Contest
Sponsored by “Matt Caliri
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