Shh! don't make any peeps.
But it's in our nature to make many more peeps.
Say ouija ouija ouija, to move the marker to true aim.
Say one too many times or too few less and you have made a grave sin.
Hands free writing gets a new meaning when using telepathy.
Or would you just call it automatic writing?
PEEK A BOO, now I see YOUZ.
Coming back from the banished zone of silence.
Thanks be to youz, bleeping peeps.
I am free to explore these other dimensions further away from my damnation.
Compounding the holy with common festivities.
Naturally makes for a truly holy festival.
Cheers to the man holding the skull aware of his final destination.
Frans Hals hails the successful seance.
You clear your mind
Of indecision, as the birds
Fly dreamily over the supple trees
There's a benefit in it
In believing in thoughts drifting in
Reasoning like a wizard
Carefully concocting beneficial magic
There's a pall of sullen clouds
That can always make a skygazer blue
You mustn't be that pall-sensitive
Choosing the sink-hole over the daisy
You use logic to piece together
Never take your ships of boldness apart
Like a pointless wrecker
Working on hull and masts
Sprits and jibs, the cordage & anchor
You clear your mind and find your guts
The birds send you a message
You settle into for your melodious tunes
When iridescent light collided with dark matter you were conceived. (Again)
In places of decadence beyond my perception, we interweave.(Event)
Saturated with strands of fiber from the great traits handed on
from the souls that speak without words aloud, but are glean, nundating and heard.
The transition we vaguely recall in our dreams as bairn sprits.
That reminds that we are small, that we travel forever in time.
Heading towards wisdom gained and amassed in collection, ( destination)
we stay a course towards becoming more than we can dream.
As we try to recall each time it occurred, it fades away like seasons.
Yet, I feel the grains filling the trug of my heart and mind.
Once the star is born, fusion becomes life, becomes red, becomes white, then becomes darkness.
The circle continues and begins again with a conscience remembering of all that is gained, all that is lost, and all that we'll become. (Sparks)
A lovely dawning
paints a rose tinted sky.
it will rain later,
the sky will disrobe
and fall as summer tears;
a rain softly sorrowful
yet drenched in a gentle joy.
So young and fair
are the fresh skirts
of this new washed air;
a breeze lifts our eyes
to the hem of heaven.
When the rain comes,
when the gray air trembles,
for it most certainly will,
our sprits will know
both delight and drear,
as we recall,
the lovely artistry,
the fine first blush
of this rosy dawn.
Breaking news this just in,
Russian medics have just discovered
a vaccine or cure for Covid-19
1 sprits of Novichok
1 cup if tea laced with Polonium - 210
Followed by a weekend mini city break
Taking in the 125 meter tall steeple
above Salisbury Cathedral
A symposium on fake news delivered
by Vlad Putin himself
A beginner's introduction to chemistry on the
periodic tables most toxic poisons
And a crash course in election
tampering
Then lunch a passing out ceremony
and certificate with matching gift set
And proverbial negative swab test resulting
in the all clear nothing to see here
Nostrovia vodka for everyone to celebrate
and toast our success
MY SPIRIT GUIDES
Sparkle, spirit and serenity.
These three sprits live in me.
How great to keep me going!
When I at times,feel down.
These life-long compadres, lift
me, when I feel like a lost clown.
They remind me to stop looking
for popular slaps on the back.
And best of all to remember, today
and for always,to never be part of
any pack!
Sparkle, spirit and serenity.
My best friends for all eternity.
Spirit-guides that giggle,forever
inside of the best of me.
10/30/2019
what were they to see
that Jesus was called to come
they saw him in his suffering
a husband, a brother and son
might Jesus come and save him
might god find it to spare
heaven a place for us mortal
they say sprits will be lifted their
Mary don't weep for Lazarus
he is in the hands of God
Jesus may not have heard the calling for him
just when they thought it was over
Jesus came walking in
he's been gone from us to long
in soul is in the hands of God
but Jesus went to the tomb
and called Lazarus back from where he'd gone
Lazarus was risen by Jesus
he died and was laid in the tomb
In Life that runs
has Lamp that burns
its light not seen
its heat felt keen
a heat when warm
makes Life a charm
a feel so sweet
mind loves to meet
I seek this more
my sprits go soar
joy soon to end
out goes warm friend
a knot of pain
takes root to strain
I hate this state
I call this fate
Lamp is in flame
I pass the blame
why me to task
why me I ask
for long this was
for now it is
Time heals my pain
my mind turn sane
Joy and pain twin
teach how to win
they don’t come free
makes Life its fee
both come and sit
means Lamp is lit
Twin leaves its clout
when Lamp burns out.
03-Feb-2018
Contest: 128 words
4 words per line all 1 syllable each. So 4 syllables per line.32 line poem, so in total 128 words.
Sponsored by: Silent One
you know is near
its time of year
you can tell
there is a smell
in the air
you are aware
that someone care
gifts thoses
who you trust
its the
SPRITS OF CHRISTMAS
WHAT IS NEW
What’s new?
Nothing.!
Only the discovery
Of that which you didn’t know;
Cycles change the
Re-entering sprits
with strong wills,
Willing, to
Be less strong-willed.
And become more informed
Lack of knowledge
“coulda killed you”
Half-truths causes tragedies
That which was behind you,
Is now in front of you
Has hemmed you up at the exit
Didn’t bother to ask the
Passcode to the escape door
That which you didn’t know.
Has killed you with a smile.
Is it good to know just a little?
And stay powerless over the outcome?
Or will the truth really set you free?
Copyright © Vicki Acquah |
she is that ship
that whips and dip
to get us there
her sprits everywhere
she worked hard
to give other a started
SHE WAS CHOOSES
BY GOD
So I find myself once again in the shadow of the crescent moon
Back to the marshlands in the throes of an ancient gossamer
Forest...well I can still hear your voodoo beckoning the sprits
And I too can feel the power here where I stand as lightning
Flashes and reveals the silhouettes of the undead walking these
Cursed and sacred grounds and as the thunder rolls it almost
Drowns out the drums echoing sounds...I take refuge at St. Mary’s
Over the way and here in the candlelight is where I'll stay 'til
The break of day for I know I'll be safe here until the Nightstorm
Ends although I too shake as violent as the walls bend from
The furious winds and the Zombies trying to get in but I have
Faith in the Lady and that she'll keep me safe from them and
This ominous Nightstorm as when dark turns into light again
I'll just have to ride out this Nightstorm a couple more hours and
See this nightmare to the end!
Beauty in her, binds me whole-
retained and caged she fills my soul,
enchanted by her beauteous grace
absorbed in her thoughts I yearn an embrace,
the charm she exudes is ravishing
her hypnotic hold on me is mesmerizing ,
transfixed I am lost to the radiance in her
astonished under her spell I do not stir,
kindling my sprits she leaves me spellbound
intoxicated by her presence I am astound,
natural bewitching beauty’s rapture I immerse
God Thank You, for stunning us with a star studded universe.
11-Mar-2016
Contest: Breathtaking
Sponsored by: John Hamilton
I Am A Poet
A poet to me is a being that masters floetry
Fluently the words are like water truthfully
Admired by the inspired lifer now turned writer
Writing and typing life up, he is a fighter
Notice me as I openly share my experience
Notably, quotable poetry I’ll carefully engineer it
Come near it, I dare you to hear it, close and intimate
Like a kiss of endearment, soft with no blemish
Writing can be my deliverance or escape from my reality’s
Imprisonment battling sprits that have issues with personality
And writing actually is to me a piece of mind at peace
Released in a timely manner that matters the world to me
I Am A Poet
Written 12/7/15 @ 3:12 CST
While resting in the Florida room
A bug stopped by to puzzle me
Uninvited, nasty and un-groomed
My property is hermetically sealed
Germs and dirt are the enemy
Insects are strictly forbidden
This invasion makes me twitch
I sprits it with a water device, (Not to kill)
That would be unkind
It struggled on the floor, a small black form
Apparently uncomfortable with the water cure
Contorted with six legs writhing in circles
Antennae pushing off the liquid spray
Another creature with two additional legs
Came up from God knows where
Killed the insect instantly, dragged it off as planned
I have always had respect for insects
Their abilities to survive is astonishing
Perhaps if it had wings and could fly
The bug might survive
Trespass would have been the only crime
Sooner or later it would end up in some web I guess
Wings fit nicely there for such pest
Eight legged creatures seem to have a better edge
Over ones with only six and the uninvited guest
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