They called her weak; I called her flame.
Disposable—she wore that shame.
Fate left her cracked on alien stone;
Her warriors fled; she lay alone.
I was half-dead, yet found my spine;
I lifted her; I made her mine.
We crossed poison sands, lungs in debt;
Through fire-tempest—still, I set.
Past empire bones, we learned to bleed;
Survival shifted into need.
Trust grew fanged; loyalty took flight;
Love came midnight, not polite.
I never let her leave my back;
I kept my vow in starless black.
Her kind named her weak, a flaw—night.
Disposable, bone-thin, unblessed—night.
Fate left her cracked on hostile stone,
under an alien, starving sky—night.
No bright warriors came, no oath, no tone;
only a human, half-dead, drawn—night.
He lifted her onto his back,
and would not set her down—night.
They crossed poison deserts, copper-dry;
lungs burning on each stolen breath—night.
Fire-storms tore their borrowed shelter,
ash kissing lips like quiet death—night.
They threaded empire-ruins, iron-mouthed,
where old crowns rusted into blight—night.
Survival hardened into trust,
a gentle chain in gritted fight—night.
Loyalty grew fanged; mercy grew wings;
their shadows braided tight—night.
Maybe love, dangerous and clean,
took root in scars, in shared fright—night.
Then the twist: he was her rescue.
She was his sentence, his light—night.
A dark void, my soul completely destroyed
Everything wrong hit me, like an asteroid
The wrongdoings I’ve done, the pain I've faced
The tears I’ve shed, and the sick aftertaste
I’m often misunderstood, called “Emo” and “sad”
But they don’t see my thoughts, and they should be glad
There’s more to see, but it’s a lot for me
Everyone around me is strong, like a tree
But I am only a wilted flower,
As everyone looks down, often towers
I weep in silence, my hopes and dreams crushed
And so I often feel my voice is hushed
I seem to blend in with the rest of the tree’s
And so I collapse, and I’m finally free.
If your body is weak,
Strengthen it dear
Or else great aims
Can't be realized
If you have any habit
That will affect mind
Stop it immediately
Or else only tragedy
Body and mind are
Important always
Both must join
To pull life safely
Body can be powered
By doing some exercise
Mind is strengthened
By reading and praying
Body mustn't be abused
It must be cared properly
That which spoils its health
Must be totally shunned
Mind if is allowed to wander
It will gather unwanted ideas
It won't settle to obtain peace
It may even affect the body
Right from the childhood
Many habits accumulate
If only good habits are had
That soul may win in life
Bad habits may end life
By denying happiness
If one is wisely guided
One can avoid them
Bad habits form an addiction
That may stick like a stamp
Removing them is impossible
If we make them control us
Use will-power while living
And select healthy things
Say no to bad habits firmly
To stay in life victorious!
Unfit Gifts
by Rabindranath Tagore
loose translation by Michael R. Burch
At sunrise, I cast my nets into the sea,
dredging up the strangest and most beautiful objects from the depths ...
some radiant like smiles, some glittering like tears, others flushed like brides’ cheeks.
When I returned, staggering under their weight, my love was relaxing in her garden, idly tearing leaves from flowers.
Hesitant, I placed all I had produced at her feet, silently awaiting her verdict.
She glanced down disdainfully, then pouted: "What are these bizarre things? I have no use for them!"
I bowed my head, humiliated, and thought:
"Truly, I did not contend for them; I did not purchase them in the marketplace; they are unfit gifts for her!"
That night I flung them, one by one, into the street, like refuse.
The next morning travelers came, picked them up and carted them off to exotic countries.
Admit That Trump Is Unfit
Are things about Trump we must admit,
Which is brain and body are both unfit;
Big belly sticks out when he does sit.
Jim Horn
Trump Himself Likes To Hallow
Trump himself he does like to hallow,
While he will lie and seem so shallow,
And his mind,
Left behind;
Skin appears bright like marsh mallow.
Together poems would rather compile;
That seems to match my incredible style,
With each word,
That occurred,
And for my poems "P" will have to dial.
When Trump Has Washed Hair
When Trump washed hair and after it dries,
Changes color and dies with beauty supplies;
Should see skin,
Bad has been,
And he even crushed his Cracker Jack prize.
While on Journey Ran Into Bernie
Remember while we were on a journey,
Had been running into Senator Bernie;
Never trounced,
But off bounced';
After accident he needed an attorney.
Jim Horn
his should keep you busy read my
poems for a while. I could just copy
and paste them.
Walk in my shoes, tell me how you feel
Tell me I was wrong for telling you the pain was real
Walk mile in the path that I am trapped in
Tell me you could do it different
Hike the depths that I am lost inside
Maybe than you could say I lied
When I said I lost my way, I meant it true
Next time I can try your shoes
So I could be just as lost as you
And we can forgive our issues
Pressure compounding on the center of my chest
One weight that I cannot lift
Physically strong but emotionally out of shape
The cool breeze of the night air kisses my neck,
The spec of hope during the hard times
Silver lining in the Raider's Jacket
Minimal but powerful imagery
Being a MOM is not for me
I have two kids but I still act like I am Free,
I spend all my time doing things I want to do
I could care a less about their interest and this is the honest truth,
They help me financially because of child support
Thank you God for that and my Lies to the court,
I avoid all contact as much as I can
I only act like a mother when there is a demand,
My kids are like trained little puppies
Because ever since they were young they know it is all about mommy,
I know I am as sorry as a mother could be
But, who cares about them it is all about me.
Written By: Unique Poetry.....2006.....This is about Mothers that use their kids after a Divorce...so sad....
I am thankful for a wooden
and sod
prison, for i am unfit
for any place
but hell.
you, too
are unfit
for any place
but hell.
you'll all rot,
like bananas left on
top of the fridge,
forgotten by all,
but you won't even be discovered
and tossed with disgust at your
decrepit stench.
nope.
you're just gonna sit on top of
the fridge and rot forever
in hell.
Love, in one way, is like current
recharges heart with that
keeps mind machine fit
Without love all things are unfit
Holy verse, subject to human
interpretation, holds only shards
of insight into divine wisdom
leaving us ill-equipped, in our
imperfection, to truly
know the mind of God.
And in our imperfect state we
have been granted the use of
only a small percentage of our
miraculous minds because we
are wisely given only that
which we can reasonably handle.
So how is it we lack humility,
claiming infallible knowledge
of sovereign will and law?
And why is faith confused
with fact when there is no
evidence to support it?
Still, self-righteous zealots
peddle pre-packaged religion
complete with divine amnesty
if you 'act now'
and warning labels
for those who refuse to buy.
We are all unqualified
to say who is right
and who is wrong.
And not one of us
is fit to know who
lacks divine approval.
To disagree is not a sin.
But to condemn another
is to usurp the throne of God.
Although I did my bit,I feel more like a misfit;
They said that I was clever,I've lived life like a dimwit.
--- Princefreakasso
(Artist and Poet)
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