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Benczar Vitug Poem
The People that clock into your life and not clock-out
these are people who endeaver in the most Un retainable adversities,
that seeps and creeps within your celestial boundaries.
These People are the ones who leave foot prints in your hearts,
embarking a mark that shows;
no matter how near and far your friendship carries on.
These are people will make you laugh;
when you fell such awe to just collapse.
When times seems tough, and you feel you need a hug.
They are there with arms to bare and keep you warm like bug under a rug.
These are the Selfless people who will not self-indulge;
to be bestowed gifts upon there kindness,
nor commend relevant treatment in return of their keenness.
They are willing to cease the moment to invigorate.
They will not mislead you to fall into the abyss of the cliff.
Endlessly straggling down to the bottomless pit.
These are the people who will not forsake;
your kindness nor heavily drain your ambitions.
These are the people you start in the beggining of the race with
and endure there presence into the cross of the finnish line.
From one ear and into the heart,
the compasion of this special person we call "a friend", will never depart.
Copyright © Benczar Vitug | Year Posted 2005
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Benczar Vitug Poem
There are times we have our down moments,
our moments where we keep to ourselves,
these times we cry our self to sleep,
hoping when we wake,
the thoughts embeded no longer cloud our memory.
It oftens leaves us week and sometimes to bleek,
to bleek to percieve.
that life is like a rollar coaster,
we have our rough edges and smooth edges,
how we ride this amusment of life,
is what will determine the outcome of our life.
Copyright © Benczar Vitug | Year Posted 2005
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Benczar Vitug Poem
A scornful Song thats' undesirable and unstoppable.
Where our flesh holds a thousand stripped souls. Dimminshed by its inablity of
resistance.
Our mind and soul manipulated,
and blurred from all source of benevolence.
Abducted by this incarciration
pulled by an abyss of departed spirits.
We're compelled to compress into the compulsion of hellish proportions.
And fed into our hearts'the compunction of betrayal and denial of his prime expectations.
Departing from our flesh as were sitting at the core of ignited brimstones,
our souls are surroneded by flames left deathless.
With inflammation and suffocation surronding our nation.The trembles of it's terror are
abruptly endless.
Where screams are seen but not perceived
the heavy splash of blood is but a scornful song of sorrow in the temple of his
mercifulness.
Copyright © Benczar Vitug | Year Posted 2005
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