Too much negativity can lead astray --
what you see is more of what you
will get; what you hear are the echoes
that your heart will send back – what you pray are
the angels you will attract...the God
type who will lead them. Entertain in your mind
deceit, greed, war and violence, greater fire and smoke
will suck the air from your experienced everyday environment.
Speak vehemence, vengeance, and the Lord of retribution
will contrive your footsteps and flying – the deity
of heavens and hells will imprint new
such drama landscapes, battles of your dawns and nights.
One manifests, forms and reforms fears and desires his
deluded heart and soul mistakenly empower. Clean
one’s self, and both heaven and hell
will be at last an immaculate harmony of peace and shared
love. Heaven on earth. No Second Coming till then.
burn it.
Burn it.
BURN IT.
All of it,
Every single system,
Every single institution,
Every single building, built by the blood of Black hands.
Violence was a language they understood -
All too well,
So fire is the message we send back
Peace was never an option,
When war was a crime forged against us -
The very people who built their empire.
Blood shackled hands,
Tear stricken faces of the ancestors,
Each tear drop the glue of each cement brick,
Every building burnt - an act of justice,
Every building burnt - a form of reparations
Every system burnt, is justice served
Violence was the only answer -
To the oppressors acts of discrimination,
Of Black bodies strung, hung and burned,
Of every act of racism,
Of every Black person - murdered,
For the simple act of being Black in this world
Do you believe that Earth is flat?
There's no way that this can be true.
Flat things have an edge
no fences, no walls.
This silliness does not make sense!
The moon and the sun are both round.
Technology shows planets spin!
In the olden years,
a flat Earth seemed safe.
No proof then, of what we know now.
These days, in our prime modern times
spaceships send back data that show
detailed photos that
cannot contradict!
Plain as black and white, Earth is round.
Don't believe? Then take a spin on
a round-the-world giant cruise ship.
Full circle you'll ride
an East to West loop-
and from the Earth you will not fall!
Are you in my head
a thought that doesn’t feel like mine
a memory whispering through me
asking me to see
what I am told is real
If you say I smiled today, it stays stored that way
only if you say so
If you say I sounded gentle
then that is what I was
only if you say so
If you say the moment was warm, it keeps its heat archived in my memory
only if you say so
If you say the light felt right
I stop arguing with the dark
as if it is a language my mind no longer knows how to translate
only if you say so
My thoughts blur at the edges of nightfall
Will you be my sight
I am learning not to see on my own
So whatever you say becomes what I believe
You are my eyes
and I am the version of me you send back to me
because I stopped trusting my own eyes
and now even desire feels like something I was told to want
The ending of your salvation
Is the ending of your life
Like Lazarus he's very poor
He wear sack cloth, he's sick
He only eat the crumbs under the rich man's table
The rich man has all the things in life
He is famous, he's powerful, he's respected
Death is the equalizer of life
Lazarus died, the rich man also died
Lazarus died angel came and bring Lazarus to heaven
The rich man died, for few seconds
He open his eyes and he's in the torment of hell
The rich man made so much request to Abraham
To send Lazarus to send back to Earth and preach to his 5 brothers
The rich man became an Evangelist this time
Requesting somebody must preach repentance to his house
To know avail his request wasn't granted
No more rewinding of life, no turning back my friends
We have given 70 years on Earth
To find that salvation in our life
If you can't, negotiate to Him, pray to God
If you find that salvation, repent and surrender
Sign the covenant and do His will no matter what.
We sit inches apart,
glowing screens between us,
a thousand miles wide.
We speak in echoes,
algorithm-fed replies,
pre-packaged thoughts
we never owned.
I send you a message.
You send back a reaction.
A digital thumb,
a cartoon heart,
a flicker of presence—
then gone.
We gather in crowded rooms,
silent, heads bowed in reverence
to the gospel of notifications.
A congregation of ghosts,
all here,
all absent.
Your voice is there, but flattened.
Your eyes are there, but dimmed.
I reach for you—
but you are buffering.
And yet, we post proof of life,
a curated display
of curated selves,
hoping someone, somewhere,
will see beyond the pixels,
will touch something real.
But no one does.
Because we are so connected,
yet we can’t see each other anymore.
I’ve been long travelling
Across that old ocean
And I’ve seen what was meant
In those long times passed
And what will I send back to you
Diamonds you’ll wear forever
Sparkling shining brightly
For you to remember me
But don’t expect me to return
As I will set my sail to cross that sea
Taking direction from strangers
Looking for my place to be.
Paul Warren Poetry
Curled tail,
Tucked beneath the horse head.
Eyes open wide,
Seeking plastic inside.
Too remove from the waters,
Sliding across the waves.
Catching folds of water filled with trapped fish.
Holding each life.
Seeing the last twitch.
The Sea Horse Mine gathers balls of glittering plastic.
Mountains of bottles and nets.
Unfortunate straps floating by are last,
Piled high.
The Sea Horse Mine,
Would like to send back,
All the human made trash!
It is the highest vibration
So why wouldn't you choose it?
It emancipates all stagnation
So please never refuse it
When it comes, embrace it and hold fast
But make sure to let go, too
Send back the sweetness that's long last
This abundance God has for you
As each day is ending
To our beds our bodies wend,
Balance restoration
Is a necessary end.
Send back the negativity
Restore your inner calm
Regain your stolen energy
Equilibrium your balm.
Break the cycle of toxicity
Crack open wide the sour,
Release your positivity
Let kindness be your power.
When those we send back to the moons surface,
those we dispatch to those lifeless planets
that hang dead-boned and airless
in our small corner of space;
when they who reach and explore,
colonize and construct,
will they eventually construe
what we knew all along
that we who dwell on Earth
are the one reason for God to exist.
That God is here in the fruitful soil
of this garden
where eternal life has planted its heart.
Look at you, what do you see?
Do you see a painting or a poetry?
The art in you is such a mystery-
A craft molded from his imagery.
You are a sculpture made of finest stone,
With His own hands that brought you to hone;
You're a unique and precious masterpiece,
Your value does not depreciate.
You're a mighty hand that conquers the winds;
Your thundering voice echoes through the waves;
Your soaring uproar can send back the tides
You're an emperor in your own rights.
You rule across the fields of your destiny;
Your fate is your own chancellery;
You are as mighty as Napoleon
For you have an empire of your own.
You rule across space and time;
You reign within your own realm;
For The Lord gave you His image
So you could rule in peace like sage.
The Lord gave you your dominion,
You command a vessel of your own;
May such vessel steer you to greatness,
May your decrees show forth His prowess.
September 18, 2022
To lighten the load, I suggest
stop adding to the stack.
Next, are there things you could sell,
return … perhaps send back?
Perhaps your load is more challenging,
than just, a lot of things.
Perhaps load is a lack of funds,
and all the stress … that brings.
Perhaps your load is more serious,
involves illness or death.
Or involves life’s uncertainties
that takes away … your breath.
Perhaps this, or perhaps that, but
one thing I know for sure!
Know the name of “someone special,”
who’ll help you … to endure.
His name, a name Christ always knew,
a name that he made known.*
Psalm 83:18 verse where,
Jehovah’s name … is shown.
*The “hearer of prayer,” Jehovah,
is God’s personal name.
Not responsible for your loads,
so please … God never blame.
To lighten loads, may I suggest,
Jehovah, get to know.
Christ in tears, called on Jehovah,*
same trust … I pray we’ll show.
BREAKING NEWS
We have breaking news right here on the soup!
You can travel back in time if you write about poop.
Back to sixth grade is where we’ll get sent.
There is a time machine waiting that’ll send back our scent.
We can giggle at farts that we rip in the hall.
Or maybe grease one out when we pick up a ball.
Back to sixth grade? Where do I sign?
That would be better than reading poems that whine all the time.
From the seat of our bikes, we’d pass gas all around.
A smellier bunch would never be found.
Just don’t lite a match, it could blow down your door.
We all could read comics about Iron Man and Thor.
For a seat back in time, a stinker I’ve got.
If it’s all about poop, then I’ll give it a shot.
I hope you’ve enjoyed this rhyme I’ve sent forth.
It’s a fart just for you, sent down from the North.
Mom says she doesn't text in letters, I answer IK
She says she isn't going to learn whatever is IDK
When she is waiting for me I tell her BRB
And she asks me what is a GIF or a JPG
I will try to show her how to use them ASAP
When I get the text back later that its NYOB
So I send back an uplifting LMAO
I plan to tell her why its IMO
She replies with understanding: IK now what IDK
Is that a PIC is a JPG and asks if maybe IDK
3-24-2021
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