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Almney King Poem
What Is A Nation
Who am I to crown myself more high
than a nation that differs from I
in which by chance or by fate I was bred;
that I may declare the lives of our nation
pardoned from death if my own be set to
scale against a creed I am not;
that I may judge the hue of any complexion or
the contour of any being
as perfectly imperfect as I am
myself?
And who am I to silence my tongue against
words spun by evil and remain mute as
they create spite towards every and all other nations?
If I be such a soul, I cry for deliverance.
And what is a nation but a division of earth
that at any moment may sever and rearrange
itself?
And what is a nation if all humanity thrive
under one veil of sky and be firm upon one
mass of earth?
What is a nation if we are of Him and He
is a God of one in a single heaven?
And if He be in me, then I be of you
and joyously welcome ALL nations into the center
of my being.
What is a nation?
What is a nation child?
A nation is a union, for we are all pieces of a whole;
one nation, under God.
Copyright © Almney King | Year Posted 2012
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Almney King Poem
I wish to rise out from the atmosphere
Where we claim the impossible.
I wish to inhale the newest of breaths,
Open my previously gray eyes-
Unstoppable to see things veiled to those immature.
I wish to rise beyond temporal grief,
Erupt through the sensitives of hostility and desire.
I wish to witness the miracle of a vile, twisted seed
Replanted upright, then bloom between the eves of anguish and rage.
I wish to rise with the sun
And let my arms be motionless around
Those who have laid their wounded eyes upon the horizon.
There , under the temperate glow,
They will become temperate themselves,
Become tamed in a disheveled time.
They will be awakened such as I have been awakened,
And we will be watchful as the remaining others
Fade further into the distance
And further into the atmosphere where
They claim the imposible.
Copyright © Almney King | Year Posted 2012
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Almney King Poem
Oh, docile crescendos
Spiraling out from our hearts,
I listen.
Oh, I here them all:
The wake of our dreams
Trying to pave their way
On pathless courses in life.
I listen-
To every toll harping throughtout the years.
We cannot delay and remain stationary
Where we are now.
No, we must journey away,
Pursue the symphonies within us.
Oh, docile crescendos,
Spiral out.
I listen in wait for every note
To come streaming forth;
So that in the end, all of
Our songs are one voice of the world.
Copyright © Almney King | Year Posted 2012
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Almney King Poem
Those lines can sometimes go for miles,
Yet their reasons travel farther.
Some go deep while others just
Drag along the surface.
But no matter how shallow,
The inner pain is far more profound.
Oh friend,
I know of the thin lines
Tucked beneath your sleeves,
And of the lines stretched
Across the smoothness of our wrist.
Every tear-carved.
Every struggle- etched.
Every memory- engraved
Behind closed walls the misery leaked forth
As you stood encased in the darkness.
Yet my eyes still peered through
As if those walls were open widows.
Troubled soul,
Be still and let me reach
Out to alleviate those whips of despair.
Let me touch you with halos of relief.
Allow me to foster your pain
So that you may see every tear-vanish;
Every struggle-perish;
Every memory-diminish;
Until those thin lines are no more.
Copyright © Almney King | Year Posted 2012
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