The Battlefield of Vanities
In Rhymtic, where the public of pride
Beats loud in opposition to the quiet side,
Egos soar like corner Kings, Queens,
Talkin' validity with heavy swings.
Steel-tongued verses bash the air,
Lines cut deep like a group came prepared.
Shadows arch, but the valorous don't yield-
Every word a weapon, the vanity Battlefield.
Time, the tranquil tyrant, takes its toll,
Tearing truth, transcending all control.
The prideful, pompous, prancing high,
Pale beneath the passing sky.
Walls that once stood, wide and strong,
Whisper weakly, "We don’t belong."
Wealth that once waved with windfall’s grace,
Withers, vanishes, leaves no trace.
Beauty, bold, begins to bend,
Fading fast, an endless end.
Bodies break and bones betray,
In time’s tight grip, we decay.
Fools who fought with fervent fire,
Find their flames have long expired.
Battles born of boastful pride,
Buried, forgotten, cast aside.
Silent, steady, time surveys,
Its silent strength steals life away.
No kingdom, no king, no land, no name,
Escapes the endless, eternal claim.
Towers topple, treasures turn,
All things tremble, all things burn.
Yet still, it speaks without a sound,
Time’s true triumph coming ‘round.
So heed the hour, heed the day,
For time will take your crown away.
Let not your soul be swept by fear,
But let it know, the end is near.
My nightmares quench their thirst in the bowels of misery,
To silence the pains of my color, my fears denounce death.
I will end in the shadowed silence of a dilapidated cemetery,
Yet I chase the glory of these fleeting vanities built on thrones of dust.
My wounds torment me before the flattery of these bloodthirsty scavengers,
I anesthetize my demons with the hard drugs of my ordeal,
It is suffering that grants me the clearest insight.
I hunt immortality in an ocean of transgressions.
I am a freedom-drunk guerrilla; to be a slave is a curse.
My scars tell the penitence of my blessings.
The devil swore me loyalty, yet he already bore the taste of betrayal.
Since then, I walk alone through the ruins of my hell, with desolation as my only home.
I adore the darkness; it whispers what light ignores.
In the sweetness of terror, I found a refuge the world demonizes.
I do not fear dying, but living in the cramped confines of a morbid existence.
I drag my coffin along the highway of dissent, pockets full of nails.
The angel of death lashes my traumatized soul with the cowardice of suicide.
Mirror the night
the fragments of a moonlite glare
a warm subtle moment
only lovers share
a desert warmed night
We swim pooled by the night
morning we then breakfast
in memory of the night
The Hickories were strange in
Mesquites Territory
The dessert served first
then supper
then the snacks
we swam in the Mirrored
desert home
With the cob plastered
oven in the garden.
The rasberry wines
and sorted confections
Sumthang Fishy about the Soursop
Written by; Tinsel Trubllalyst
trouble anaylisis for
That's right Publishing Co.
A Smiley Persons Music Company
"Big differance" Appears courtsey of
Sure Nuff Music Co.
Ny. New York
"So wit Shire They Breakfast!"
We ruin our miserable lives chasing fleeting vanities.
No safe will ever be fastened to our hearse.
We fade away in the anonymity of insignificant noise.
We build empires of nightmares on the shores of oceans of scars.
Our dirty hands tremble, trying to hold back the clocks of time.
The mirrors of our pride lie, yet we love their deceit,
for they disguise our fears beneath reflections of success.
Hours vanish like ashes in the wind of our perdition,
and we forget to love while we learn to appear.
Our hearts become clocks without tick or tock,
regulated by ambition, emptied of all breath.
In the silence of our voiceless sufferings,
or in the pain of our wounds,
sometimes gleam the sparks of truth,
a fragment of eternity amid the clamor.
But we pass it by, in a hurry to exist,
as if life were nothing but a race toward the grave,
blind to the only treasure worth keeping,
the chaos we sow in others’ hearts to find peace.
What drives
the human heart
to chase and grasp
at fleeting high
living lives of shallow praise?
It’s a shame
the lies they tell
to carve a path
cheating to fill the void
disobeying to master a craft.
But when the day is done
and their name is called
they leave empty-handed
weighed down by thoughts
with not even a car
to keep them company
on the long, lonely road away.
VANITIES
a pageant
an
interaction
in
thedesired
direction
distinguished
dazzling. & radiant
elusive
& shifting
overwhelming
with
a
potential
shimmering
cloud
streaming
with
serene
light
TRANSFORMATION
peerless
&monumental
in
magnitude
a kind
of desire
ego
on conquest
to
diffuse
light
a visible
facade
raw & exposed
so
original
&
anonymous
but
still
intimate
&vulnerable
aspiring
enthusing
the complicit
to
imperceptibly
embellish
&
complicate
the
posture
All imported stuff,
imported life in luxury.
ostentatious life?
none of that matters to me
only my life matters...
Like travellers,
We cross this arid land
Aiming at the city of rest.
As we traverse the landscapes
We may, of a truth, sully our feet
With besetting dust of sin
But we must from time to time
Remember Calvary, the place of cleansing
Where mercy flows immeasurably
We go through marketplaces
Let’s be pleased with divine supplies
Lest we are tangled with vanities of life
We faint many a time
But we are resuscitated; we move on
We despair not.
We shall win!
We are soldiers in the warfare
Let’s fight, holding onto the cross
I have observed this under the shadow of the sun,
That the labour of mankind is futility.
It is in vain that you should wake up at dawn and labour till the day is done;
For things do not go swift for the righteous man,
And a house that is built by the righteous ends in vain.
But things go swiftly for the unjust,
And a tower that is constructed in corruption is quickly polished.
And success is for the ungodly,
And fortune is a dividend of those unfavorable to God.
Thus, also have I observed under the sun:
That things do not go as we have planned,
And victory befalleth not the positioned,
And wealth befalleth not the good hearted.
That, also is futility,
Vanity of vanities.
VISIONARY VANITIES
symbols
meritricious effects
dedicated
& intense
colouring
so sensual
a longeur
so ethereal
brilliance
a singleness of heart
rejoicing
in the truth
of beauty
symmetry
of illusions
imitations
gilded
bold
novel
a tapestry
of mystery
creative
human
in
celebrations
of
epic themes
THIS IS AN OPEN(organic) FORM VERSE without grammatical symbols the ' open' relies upon 'the one breath limitation' & so inherently requires the 'reader' (reciter) to input and respond thus making the form a two way interplay and often a unique interpretation by the enigma so derived
VISUAL VANITIES
release
similarities
in a subdued
influence
extinguish
&
look passively
at preconceived meaning
ot of the energy
of motion
such inner forces
appeal
in
sensual language
idioms
of
intense brilliance
prevailing
in a
contemplative life
claiming beauty
unabated
THIS IS AN OPEN(organic) FORM VERSE without grammatical symbols the ' open' relies upon 'the one breath limitation' & so inherently requires the 'reader' (reciter) to input and respond thus making the form a two way interplay and often a unique interpretation by the enigma so derived
Time has no Vanity,
time
don't dye hair,
don't disguise...
just complies,
Its role,
and does not age...
infinitely
ethereal passes... !
beauty acclaimed
symbols
of love locked out
palettes in
meretricious effect
dedicated
to
the sensual
with intense
ethereal brilliance
singleness of heart
rejoicing
in the truth
of
beauty &symmetry
in
illusion
of
a gilded tapestry
bold&novel
image of woman
a creative
anima
celebration
art
for
arts sake
in epic
themes
With One’s Life
There are always choices to be made and certain realities to square
within the confines, conflicts, and limitations of human existence.
It is given and understood that human beings shall never be perfect,
despite their religious overtures and genuflections to Almighty God.
And, it is worth noting that human beings may fall pray, at times, to
the vanities of life even in situations where they seek to do better.
Nobody is perfect, but it is both noble and grand to see and witness
when a person rises to the need to help others who are less fortunate.
The most challenging aspect may be for any person to put himself or
herself in harm’s way when an instance of direct loss of life is at issue.
Regardless, there are indeed people among all of us who do choose to
positively engage in crisis situations to help others in need—all Heroes!
With one’s life, the choices we all make define and shape who each of
us are as we seek to find our true purpose and direction by God’s grace.
What can be more noble than that?
Gary Bateman, Copyright © All Rights Reserved
October 30, 2017 (Didactic)
Sub Categories
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.