.
and know this
wit today
hern
lustily
sex iz
definitely taboo
thuh
i'm box'n tonight
')
*who'duh thunk
merrium webster:
lustily; doing something with
a great deal of healthy energy,
vigor, and enthusiasm
the firmament
generously bled violet
at the moment of truth;
our love-light,
a diamond
brightly sparkling in the dark.
granted we've tasted both
the nectar and bitterness of a world
that tried to obliterate
the steadfast foundation we built,
yet, we stubbornly grasped...
onto the rope of endurance;
your knuckles white
and bleeding into mine,
w i t h s t a n d i n g
the sinews of the passing years,
where weaker threads
would snap and fray apart.
we learned
to map and anchor
the rhythm of our trepidations
deep within the soul...
it's a bond time can't erase.
we are but two travelers
on life's serpentine road.
now look where...
the lilac blossoms glow...
a promise
sealed by everything
we survived;
no longer merely a ghost-light,
or a dream,
but a ribbon tied...
around a jacaranda tree.
City of Wills
Cant say I love you
They say you got to know her
You can't just say she's beautiful
Enjoy the party with your heart in an hour glass
She sings when she talks
The songs of Saturdays and lying on the grass at the park
I love her like a distant horn of a midnight train
She is my heartbeat she is my ghost
The night is forever young and the days are to discover the length of my rope
She is possible in an impossible world
I have wined and dined her I have felt her needs and felt her sorrow
But the joke is on me
Between a foundation and a wheel barrow
If hard work hasn't cemented my soul
Music will provide the power to touch feel and smell her flower
he never thinks fore he talks
but on rope, head high, he walks
there's nary a fear in mind
a stronger base you'll ne'er find
his voice a substantial weight
his promise looming and great
those below look up with awe
all too blind to spot a flaw
A long tailed monkey
black as polished ebony
shrieked in frantic scrabbling
at the grey mouth
of a silver pouch
and danced on braided rope
with the paunchy pig
to hypno strains
on the gilded harp
plucked by geisha girls
hair bouffant and clasped
in shells and iridescent combs.
There’s an empty canvas above my head,
Where in place of a fan, lies a horse instead,
It breaks free from a self-loathing shed,
At times, when lips silenced words from being said.
Runs across the wall, the horse
But without glee, despite being free, without any remorse,
Numbly it sprints in a white landscape,
For it to understand its purpose is beyond vague.
As it gallops, it leaves a trail of self-identity behind,
Unaware of the absence of a sound mind,
It doesn’t take long for years to pass from specks of time,
And the canvas remains an art piece, still confined.
Displeased by my efforts, I try to find an eraser,
I sigh as I realise that fate was never in my favour,
With no escape from what I’ve just done,
I prepare myself for the final outcome.
So, a cowardly canvas is above my head,
But in place of a horse lies a fan instead,
It is attached to a rope?—?compassionately holding my head,
At last, I die as a muse of a cowardly death.
Now you might think?
The titles a joke...
Yet if you deal in
Marijuhana
I hear there; is truth
In that old trope.'
two jump rope divas jumped higher and higher and higher
onlookers were amazed, these jumpers truly did inspire
two old ladies on the block thought it was a contest of sorts
jumping in their housedresses; many wished they’d have worn shorts.
Running towards
self driven passion,
I rock the boat filled
with past anchors,
and I tied them down
with beckoning ropes,
inviting dear life
to resist the restraints
placed by overbearing
mothers and fathers.
Contusions earned
by pondering along
rapid waves but
the breeze is mutual
as I welcome all
that comes my way.
No longer caught
in the nets of
imprisonment,
I set sail letting go,
without holding back,
as life is a tidal wave
carrying you across
back and forth
to destinations
unknown,
forthcoming
endlessly.
What if Epstein was a blue bird ready to sing
Despite being found dead of a rope’s swing
Did he hide secrets of wealthy pedophiles
Pictures tell a thousand stories no denials
The scarlet rope from a window hung
was used to let the two spies down
from brothel built in city wall,
it rescued them from a close call.
A token of the covenant
between the spies and prostitute,
That scarlet rope made the house of sin
a refuge for dwellers within.
When Jericho’s walls were laid flat
And all within its walls were slain
the only ones spared within the town,
were in the house where the rope hung.
When death’s angel o’er Egypt passed
that dreadful night in Pharaoh’s land
The only ones whose lives were spared
were in houses where blood was smeared.
The blood of lambs sacrificed
pointed to Christ, the Lamb of God
whose blood was shed upon a cross
to save man from sin’s death and dross.
The scarlet rope from heaven hangs
from where the Son of God came down,
to bridge the gulf and smash the wall
which sin produced, through Adam’s fall.
But only those who claim Christ’s blood
as payment for a life of sin
will be spared from the fire of hell
the kind that on Gomorrah fell.
You tied the noose that I hang from
I stare at the writing on the wall
I feel like all the words are written wrong
My feet can’t find the stall
I wish my thoughts would just be gone
I am the rope in which they tie
I can’t seem to shape the future of my life
Got me thinking am I the one who’s ready to die
I decided to roll the dice
Sick of living a lie
Why did I think twice
Now I’m begging for a reason why
He never runs out of patience
gives us as much rope as we need
We can use it to climb our way up to Him
or hang ourselves with our misdeeds
The Rope Broke
By: Aundrea Methvin
Standing in the pouring rain
His hood pulled up, the warmth barely affecting him
As his sorrow engulfs him
Tears streak down his cheeks
He holds a single rose
Two centuries have passed and still he mourns
They had battled, hell, he still bore the scar from the freshly forged heated sword
Yet he loved her … still loved her
Even if the only proof of her was this stone carved with 1666 and the word Hung
She had been condemned, and he had been at sea
His foolish mind had been yearning for gold, yet his heart had been given to the blacksmith’s daughter
Now he weeps for what could have been
Yet in the wind he smells the scent of Sweet Clover and Hawthorn
His heart skips a beat as he desperately looks around
Then he sees a shadow move just within the ruins of the forgotten cemetery
She stands and smiles … What did you think that I wouldn’t wait for your return?
He drops to his knees, scared to move, scared to blink
Surely this vision with her hair in the wind was a break in his mind
Her hand caresses his cheek as she leans in and whispers “The rope broke.”
When walking tight rope
Use your heart and mind
To balance the situation
To never get fall
Don't look elsewhere
Focus your mind forward
While concentrating on the rope
Let the heart control the inner
Stretch your both hands sideways
Like a feather for wind control
Step the right foot forward
To leverage success
Until you reach the end
To victory and never came back.
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