i love the look
yes am hook
in my face it showS
i love my
GOLD
Natural love is worth living for
Lets get back to time we were one
I wish to retrace to that pure
Embrace the basics and relearn
Principles we made but forgot
Running in the mad race every time
Lost self and truth in thought
Lets go back to those sublime
Equality of all we do proclaim
Though we ourselves do wrong
Then smartly play blame game
Leaving all which was along
No more of fights among each
Lets embrace love not gains
High time to give up bad deeds
No longer cause harm and pain
No walls of differences ahead
Be it caste, color or the wealth
Wish to be now a bond of thread
As we are pals with humane felt
Push as you pull…
Balanced soul eating not realizing full…
Nutrition begins within the brain of the ship’s hull…
Infinite potential inside the sacred skull…
Prosthetic presidential preaching produces powerfully poisoned paradoxes…
Behold the inner voice, speaking silently…
Wisdom used from its words mutates actions seemingly violent…
Peace and serenity become the eyes personality…
This love force will recreate the entirety of humanity…
Love your family, love your friends and love all of life…
Adios, sayounara; living with fears manifested Strife…
Childhood days knew frivolous fun.
Nights brought fears one by one.
Possessions were many we needed naught.
My heart ached for the love I sought.
Manicured yards brought flowers bloom.
Inside myself was disaster’s loom.
Unique and historic our house served a mission.
Provided warmth; whipped into submission.
Words whirled around like a centrifuge.
God’s loving Son was my soul’s refuge.
Escape came young, but I finished school.
I learned to love and live the golden rule.
© March 12, 2011
Dane Smith-Johnsen
Your love is like cold butter;
I am the knife.
It will not spread
will not move
it’s hopelessly stuck.
Obviously, as a knife,
I have no need of butter.
But look! Just over there!
A hunk of bread!
I’m quite sure that bread
would go really, really well
with some butter.
It looks positively lonely,
just sitting there
on the cutting board.
Can’t you see it?
I’m one for sharing, you see,
especially when it comes
to things of which I have no want.
So please.
For the love of that baguette,
just go make nice.
I’ll even help, smooth things over.
After all, that’s what knives do.
Besides cut.
(But I’d really rather not introduce you
to the sharpness and serration.)
So:
butter, meet bread.
Bread, meet butter.
And maybe we’ll
leave the utensils out of it.
When i say hello,
You have to feel joy
because i love you
and when i become sad,
you have to be like me
because we love each other.
Crowded rooms, though full, know many lonely hearts.
Smiling guests mingle; laughing, dancing, they sing.
Imaginary friends strange solace imparts.
Nonetheless, loneliness grips its painful sting.
All around cupid’s arrows take aim; love starts.
Sadly, upon the friendless there is no ring.
It had happened many times over and again.
Thank God, life and love began as you walked in.
© January 16, 2011
Dane Smith-Johnsen
Who are you?
Let me peer inside...
I'm not afraid to find
I could love you.
You're foreign
like no one I've ever known,
nothing like you grows near my home
so... different.
Yet your hands
are similar to mine,
both gentle and kind
and earthy like sand.
Your eyes,
curious and bold,
the mirror of mine
our reflections, both hold.
What do you adore?
What about do you wonder?
Maybe...you're only foreign
on the outside
maybe your feelings are like mine.
Maybe...I'm as foreign to you
something that puzzles you too.
Maybe...there's something we both know about
and feel strong about
and agree.
Maybe you're like me
and there's no such thing as foreign.
But if there is, I foreign love you.
There’s a thing about disaster
Makes us act as we should
All working together
Differences aside
Something about when tragedy strikes
We all pull together
Thousands become one
Funny how hate fades away
And love doesn’t hide
Hands are reached
And arms are held
Pasts are forgotten
Futures are gleaned
Comforts are given
And for such a short time
We go on freely living
Suppose the trick is
When all is repaired
Not forgetting the short time
As one we all cared
Take it back to our daily lives
Carry on with the trust
We all found a must
To make it through
Tragedies and disasters
That came calling on us
Oh if only our day to day
Were looked upon
As tragedy and disaster
So that hand in hand
And back to back
We put differences aside
And love didn’t feel
Like it had to hide
Until tragedies and disaster
Come calling on us
Love is a stranger to many, of this I am sure.
I have seen many that say they love and adore.
I have these thoughts to offer about true amour.
It is not about the sexual acts that hide behind door.
Love is not a kiss, or even many that feel so grand.
Love is not a touch on any part especially the hand.
Not even a look from the eyes makes the brand.
Especially not any material gift, from any land,
Here are my thoughts on what males love so real.
Wanting to give all that you have, with no repeal,
Feeling of warmth and satisfaction, no one can steal.
Touch of completeness, you know that it is all zeal.
While being away from this person, life has no fun.
Upon entering, the same room is like a warming sun
When one that seals your passion is the only one,
That you can love forever, until this world is done.
THE POWER OF LOVE IS COOL
THE LOVE OF POWER IS CREWL
BUT WHEN THE POWER OF LOVE
OVER COMES THE LOVE OF POWER
EVERYONE WILL KNOW PEACE
I can pull out your heart.
Then if I wish I could put it back in.
Then mend your skin with love because I am a man.
It’s a two way street the lying and cheating.
Then honesty comes - then learnt eventually wrong most always win.
A soul bouncing on fingertips needs time to heal and grow.
The pain, gain, agony, blindly - deceit
The love people spare just not to be alone - the unknown fingertip sweep.
O joyous Love-Of-Things Day,
O LOt Day, coming near,
I've bought a lot
To give a lot,
To lots of friends so dear.
And lots are coming my way,
Of flashing things so good,
And in a lot
I'll take a lot,
Like every Lot-man should.
For I'm a Lot-man, it is true,
I love a lot the things I do;
I love a lot of each live day
I work a lot for my loved pay.
I plan a lot for coming dawn,
With lots of profits piliong on;
I think a lot 'bout doing right
For all my keenest joys so white;
And then I stand with hands on hips,
A smile of pride upon my lips;
I see a lot of things around
That men have stood up on the ground,
A lot of towers, lots of cars,
And lots of spaceships aimed for Mars;
A lot of music moves me, whole,
And fills me lots with beauty's soul,
And lots of lines of happy poems
Come skipping through from sunny tomes,
And inspiration, lots on lots,
Grabs me with its perkling plots,
Till I, a real-man, sing my praise
To Merry Lot-mas all my days!
O Merry Lot-mas, made by men,
Bring them lots of joy again!
And Merry Lot-man, man that's me,
Make your lot prosperity!
I no longer feel numb...
Because the waves are dancing,
and crashing into the shores,
Robins are chirping sweet melodies,
songs that I cannot ignore,
Bliss is a high mountain,
and I'm at its ultimate peek,
I can now love myself,
conformity... I no longer seek,
The floras spread their scent,
while smiling up to the sky,
The ships are sailing, and arms are flailing,
it's time to say goodbye,
I can now love myself,
conformity was a foolish ally.
With my hands held high, I'm stepping up & I'm stepping out,
to show my love of life, as I hold true to myself,
true to my word, which is to be seriously accepted & positively heard.
There's no mistaking just where I start or where I end,
There's no hidden message , when I call you friend.
I, can't be denied the love I have for my heritage,
or be judged by the color of my skin.
So don't look behind me, there's nothing to see,
Don't judge who's around me because, there won't be
Don't hold back, when it's not me
or lie because you're not sure what to believe.
Allow the words of my soul to soak in & through you flow,
For my word is, what holds me to be gold.
In these fields of words, there's treasures to be, told.
While I lay in the brown color of my skin, my heritage
my house hold, where I, was, brought up in
We can't be segregated or divisibly separated
due to our skin being shaded.
We can't fall or be evaded.
We rise to make it or nothing at all,
We strive with no reason to hide.
Pushing on with, our sworn love to our Brown Pride
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