stripped bare
shivering
my faultlines exposed
I stand before Him
no one to defend me
my record speaks for itself
shame, far too mild a word
I stand before Him
knocking at His door, poor in deeds
asking for another year of life
not because I deserve it
but because He is gracious
merciful, patient, long-suffering
abundant in kindness and truth
Gloom pervades, an empty stillness hovers,
No sound, except the echo of faint sighs,
Rising from a frail chest.
Popped upon white pillows, a small girl reclines
On her sick bed, incapable of sitting up.
Her body down the waist, is wrapped
In a thick blanket to douse the chills of fever.
Consumption has eaten away her vitality
Her sick lungs gasps for breath
Her face, a white paper- pale and bland
Her golden hair lies disheveled.
A curtain hangs dull, half drawn
Waiting for the final pull.
The lady, her aunt who has been with the child
Through her tortuous journey,
Bends down clasping her frail hand
Unable to face the girl’s blank stare.
A yellowing leaf is about to take its downward spiral.
An unseen guest waits for the final embrace.
The faint stirring of life will soon desert her.
Yet love remains, a whiff of cool breeze,
Fanning her fears away with a gentle clasp.
In a critical moment of suffering and helplessness,
No medicine, but love alone serves as balm.
Each blurred stroke unravels the silence,
Of art that speaks for itself~
Man’s vulnerability and hovering sorrow,
Of a life so enigmatic, cast in gloom’s shroud.
The room speaks for itself -
It doesn’t speak at all
It exists, without breath
Silence suffocates -
The room is empty,
Not because of lack of people,
But because it lacks presence,
Something - or someone is missing,
The scent of death lingers
People crowd the room,
Yet loss consumes -
For now the room becomes a tomb,
A place cursed by harsh truths
A boy is gone,
Killed by a system -
Who criminalised colour,
The knock at the door, still echoes,
Haunted by the ghost of a warmth long gone
The room is still,
As if death has claimed the space,
Misery loves company -
And it’s favourite company - grief
Tip's of Women?
Lounge flushed
In delusion
I plays
Issues of wear
And weather's are vain
Tip's of women
Tied entrances
As low as old war
Gushes enter our floor
Isn't hours tasking?
Asnt looming often rooming
Rooms join dolls bury
Hands praying? So ways say
Papers run in the filled nights
Breaking ideas, counts, verses, checks
On tables and on the mind
City damsels, men aren't rhymes
Okay honey man
Driftwood apartments
Kevin issues jazz
You accident prone today
Chaska home
I have been behind San Francisco Paris
Says speaks for itself
Fearless abandon
Call on shores
Runned in
Hip at the door
Night the session
Strange moon wander in question
Illusive paints
Harken of tame
Tara I uncover
Repent dowry upon my branch
Eyes drafting midnight
Hourglass tarnish adventures
Lost rehearsal
my voice called out twice,
but i couldn’t stop there,
i wrote about a fatal vice,
your eyes being elsewhere,
it can be named assumption,
but i think it speaks for itself,
my ability to daringly jump in,
while further neglecting myself,
and every time it’s a rapture,
of the patient chasing game,
it’s a bore without a capture,
of soul who’s quite the same,
but i know how to leave it too,
it’s a choice i haven’t yet made,
because it ruins the idea of you,
and the mythology that i’ve laid.
Beautiful roses
speaks for itself
in agreeable rapture
Inspired,
with a brush on a canvas
you tend my soul
Never false,
always unadorned
Enchantment of beauty
a goddess
in complete balance
True hero never claims to be a hero.
His work speaks for itself.
His service for the society and
community makes him a hero.
Our hero is Iqrar ul Hassan Syed.
Who is your hero Supari killer?
Who is your hero Gangster?
Who is your hero smuggler?
Who is your hero Kingpin??
Who is your hero DON ICT?
Cream Always Rises
Haiku: by Miracle Man
6/1/2023
life speaks for itself
Don’t settle for average
Be great at something
All Have Value
By: Miracle Man
4/11/2022
Others were treated as sisters or brothers,
So I feel no need to prove things to others.
Or at least that’s the way I’ve seen myself,
my life is a testimony that speaks for itself.
The office wardrobe is weeping,
corporate culture is gone;
A year or isolation,
but I feel like I’ve won;
My handbag is quiet
no longer flaunting it’s status;
A year behind bars
but really, what have we lost?
My make up is off
now the truth is unmasked;
The work speaks for itself
regardless of appearance;
Office parlor tricks
no abracadabra,
Can’t smile your way to the top
working some kind of angle;
The business casual
failed by design;
A year of isolation
but I feel like I’ve won;
Had to go hard
on the behavior that was trending;
A year behind bars
but really what have we lost?
In tiny proportion and faint light we can those gigantic beauties see,
like in short unique measures of live in mystery to be.
Beholding beauty in the momentary of the mind,
opens the portal of eternity and awareness so wide.
Interminable presence of great souls in the celestial garden mingle,
this clear tune in praise of sacrament becomes the enlighten tingle.
Consume yourself in this ever lasting sacred fire,
for true righteousness will fuel your subtle desire.
The meaning of prophets and masters keeping the planets alight,
consequences of ancients souls transcended bright.
Those living spirits in their poetic sense and great name,
providing the door towards the ordered divine flame.
The sharp rings of Saturn’s discipline in optimal position,
sets the opportunity to make the right decision.
Declaring the courage towards the desired state,
with every step in dignity of gait.
Far from the resort of truth in charm,
blessings from the invertible doors of harm.
The real spirit in pure light consent,
speaks for itself as all observing element.
When it boils down to the truth taking a platform
the words Jesus speaks deeply to me
Most assuredly I say to you before Abrabham was I am
there is no one before Him or after Him
In my books He is Alpha and Omega
clearly from this statement our Lord says
I am the first and I am the last
besides Me there is no God
Picking up the stones under blasphemy laws
being a man trying to make yourself a god low key
speaks for itself the worth you attach to life
For what works do you label someone
is it for the value or beliefs held inside
for every attack is on Love by hate
and our King holds the keys of Hades and of Death
When it boils down to the truth taking a platform
the words Jesus speaks deeply to me
Most assuredly I say to you
before Abrabham was I am
there is no one before Him or after Him
In my books He is Alpha and Omega
clearly from this statement our Lord says
I am the first and I am the last
besides Me there is no God
Picking up the stones under blasphemy laws
being a man trying to make yourself a god low key
speaks for itself the worth you attach to life
for what works do you label someone
is it for the value or beliefs held inside
for every attack is on Love by hate
and our King holds the keys of Hades and of Death
For a little poem I do perform
A depth defying feat.
By all accounts I do seem shallow
Upon a surface read.
But before that N/A switch is flicked,
Let me percolate;
What once was shallow, when you dive in,
Becomes a spring fed lake.
Contest: You Be The Judge
Sponsored by: Bobby May
Date Created: 03/07/2019
Your Judgement Rating: 1st Place
(True feelings)
You may have little tolerance for tolerated people
For I have no love for those I never love,not even a lover
Don't feel you have to tolerate me
For I am not the one that commit crimes and rape and other.
You may not like me for your prediction of me turn out to be a lie.
You may not like me for not being a loose cannon.
You may not like me for not being a drug addict and a drunk.
Of course who would want to tolerate a person not using all these things.
You may not like me for defending myself& rights than to keep it
Quiet.
sooner or later those experience was gonna come out and be told.
I do not have to lie about everything I say for the markings and evidence speaks for itself and displayed.
So yes! You do not feel you have to tolerate me, for nothing of mines is yours and it will never be.
You try to turn my life into a nightmare, but yet you forgot you'll pay for the crime and the nightmare you caused.
You try to use me as your mirror image like my parents.
But yet you keep failing like all the rest.
You remind me of the Malpractioners that started all this mess, for They just miserable souls doing what they do best.
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