No more prayers.
No more loser layers of faith.
Sweep away thoughts of here, after.
Now know it's just me.
Maybe you, too.
Seek a way. Weigh what, a future?
Gospel folly pick your crutch.
Deluded religious mumbos join jumbos,
Scamper to seduce other fools:
"Embrace me",
"Embrace me".
"Save me from myself!"
Fair no longer counts,
No standard measures life.
I am all there is...but not alone.
Welcome, share my finite infinity.
Come, let us gaze upon a Sonless world.
A place devoid of sanctimonious codes.
Enrich us now as we author odes
Harking back to stone clashing stone.
Hail blessed atom!
Arise High Igneous!
Who are you petitioning?
Limitless ooze lurking, expanding,
Walking out of itself.
No wonder, no poetry, poet-less.
I seek fulfillment for my...
Bone deep yearning...
Who does Gravity believe?
Why do Orbits behave?
Where does breeze begin?
~~~~~~~~~
(discover your void)
Arm deals and more arm deals, that's all I see.
Calibres change, the type of artillery
Changes, the game players grey and go and
Are replaced by darker capillary
With greater thirst for bleeding enemy
And with more dangerous artillery.
Deadly toys in the hands of eager youth,
Intended for warding off intruders:
Scaring them with heaps of artillery
So that they would harder prepare soldiers
If the should covet and desire to loot.
In their minds they have peace in their brooders.
But to brood over unused firepower
While only playing with blanks on dummies
Kindles unquiet thirst only blood can quench
Kills empathy for sonless war mummies,
And in blasts of gun smoke the youth's flower
Drowns its thirst in the thud of fall'n bodies.
(c) Nyonglema
"Noli Me Tangere"--Ode to Anne Boleyn
Beguiling and strong willed,
Thick hair and black eyes--
Average beauty at best--
Maneuvered Court, so skilled
(Though taunted by their lies)
The King you put to test.
Oh, dear Anne Boleyn!
You chose not your fate.
'Twas your father's sins:
Greed would not abate
His ambitious yens.
So, Queen you were--
Amid the hate--
The peoples' cur;
King's sonless mate
Bearing one
Queen to be
Of England's
Future
'Golden
Age'.
~deborah burch©
07/02/2012
DEAR ABBY:
I’d never considered killing myself,
Until I backed over my little boy.
I know I should think about mental help;
I break down when I see his untouched toys,
His baby pictures, note the absent noise.
Only three, he had hardly lived at all.
His life cut short, like a sudden dropped call.
Resentment’s an anvil in my wife’s eyes -
“Why weren’t you careful? It’s all your fault!”
The guilt’s SO Heavy…should I end my life?
----Sonless
Received 3rd place in "diazin" contest
Received 8th place in "Dilemna" contest
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