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Michael Pickings Poem
love is a vicious posion
that has no comparison.
the black death, aids, cancer, ebola
are not even close to its ranpit death toll.
homicide and suicide follows this deadly
mind configuring disease.
Given in the right dosage
It is harmless and offer cures to many
diseases that pre-exist.
Given heavily, an overdosage offers
adverse reactions and deadly side effects
when a person is force to go cold turkey.
It spikes up jealousy, envy, rage, depression,
and madness like no other posion on earth it
spirals out of control.
The poison affects first the heart
when it is first introduced to the body.
when it is suddenly taken away
the posion migrates to the brain.
where dellusions festor and revenge
becomes inevitable.
uncontrollabe rage takes over the mind
and harbors itself deep into the brain.
where it grows to the point of hostile takeover.
the host suffers from great depression that turns
into suicidal and homicidal tendencies.
without the proper anti-venium the
ability to restrain because weak.
the drive to live becomes no more.
Purpose of life
becomes meaningless.
death plagues the mind and
a life or lives are taken.
blood spilled over passion, desires and love.
love is a poison
that noone can outrun.
Copyright © Michael Pickings | Year Posted 2014
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Michael Pickings Poem
Death has became a familiar face
To me.
Battlefields filled with carnage and
Mayhem.
I call it home some call it hell.
I find peace where there is destruction.
I feel love in war.
A born soldier, I was made elite.
The spray of bullets grazing pass
Just missing me by inches
I must embrace death.
He fills my spirit with the heart
Of a 1000 known warriors.
Genghis khan
Achilles
Shakazulu
Rain-in-the-face
They all rush through my veins
Strengthening my soul.
Warriors manifest through the brave.
But there is no warriors code
No honor in death
No living by the blade
No pride in facing the enemy
Face to face.
We fire weapons from a distant
We drop bombs from miles high
Robotic warfare on those that
Are less fortunate to even the
Field.
I am no longer a warrior.
There is no honor in rifles
The way of the warrior is dead.
So I smell the dirt as I leave the battlefield.
Say On last prayer to the warriors lost
Sat down my rifle
And leave
Never to kill again.
Copyright © Michael Pickings | Year Posted 2014
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Michael Pickings Poem
Mysterious me
I'm mysterious, secretive,evasive
No friends, very little family
A Nomad traveling from city to city
State to state, country to country
No ties or obligations
I am free in my own mind.
I posses the inability to fear.
So I cast myself to lions and wolves
Wishing death but I constantly
Survive.
Gazing down the barrel of a loaded
Ak47, I smile and step forward
Pressing my head to the warm metal.
The enemy hesitates to seal my fate.
Russian roulette one bullet six holes five tries click, click, click,click,click
Most say I'm sick, to some it's a
Magic trick, I'm dancing with death
Following his footsteps . I'm not a
Mad man I'm just offering help.
Gang life I've played with the cartels
And mafia
The triads and yakuza
Gangsta disciples
Bloods and crips
Nick name no soul
With a Black heart, my eyes very
Cold.
Merchant of death to the highest
Bidder.
Cash, diamonds, or gold
What's the price? Ok I'm sold.
Military soldier slash henchman what you have captain? Its a dangerous mission, "well hell that's what I been missing" it's too hot for most but I'm
Perfect for the kitchen. "HM1 Do you desire to die"? Yes captain, "but why" So I looked in his eye and told the guy " I am who i am" with a loud
Battle cry.
Traveling the world from coast to coast enemies become friends that
Offer up a toast, but to my host
I'm a ghost. Mouth closed because I
Never boost. I Keep my enemies closer than most.
At the end of it all lies six bullet
Wounds, nine stab scars, ptsd,
Mental problems you can't see,
Self mutilation because my injuries
Are neck deep.
I can't weep
I can't sleep
I guess death killed me without
Moving a feet.
Copyright © Michael Pickings | Year Posted 2014
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Michael Pickings Poem
I'm a piece of artwork
Hanging in a galleria
Where imperfection is awed
By perfection.
My carefully constructed lines
Shows a life of regret and hardship
Dark shadows shaded behind me
Reveals Evil travels with me.
On my shoulders are badges of a
Honor.
A patriot of war is
Such a burden to carry.
Light shadows underneath my eyes
Shows I suffer from insomnia.
Cold black eyes,match with a 1000
Yard stare reveals, I have seen death, touched death, experienced death.
Spectators notice the souls at the
Bottom of the portrait.
You can feel the life of lives snatching and tugging at my soul
Lack of color in my face tells
Of horror no longer of passion.
Some view me as a savior and guardian to my country.
Others I'm just a mere killer and
Murderer.
But I say to myself,
I am just a human not a hero.
I am just a survivor not a killer.
Heroes and soldiers carry pain
Deep inside their own spirit.
Pain eats at the soul like
White blood cells attacks infections.
The red lines scrolling down from the portrait is the blood tears that I cry
for the souls reaching up trying to
Drag me down to rest among them.
In my painting I have no peace.
Just pieces of me scattered among
The dead. I'm left alive but dead
And death drains me until I'm no more.
Copyright © Michael Pickings | Year Posted 2014
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Michael Pickings Poem
Suffering from a disease called determination
It plagues my mind like a raging parasite
Feeding off of my will and my drive.
Inside me is where it tries to hide.
Making my heart beat to the sound of greatness
Giving me confidence as motivation rushes through my vein like Benadryl. I get a sense of urgency as if my hour glass was down to the last seconds.
No Fear!!! No Fear is all I hear whispering in my ear.
Determined to win
I can't hear the sounds of a cheer.
I'm zoned in
Focused on the task at hand.
Finish the fight?
In my mind "hell I know I can"
This road is for me
And me alone
Everybody journey ends
By a name written in stone.
Poet: Soul Of A. Man
Copyright © Michael Pickings | Year Posted 2014
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Michael Pickings Poem
Who am I?
Who am I?
I don't know
I closely examine myself in the mirror hoping the question may be revealed.
I see the eyes are my eyes
They are empty,
Dark like the deep regions of the
Universe.
Emotionless
Fake laughters, meaningless smiles,
Dry cries gives me a false sense
Of human behavior.
Who am I?
I don't know
I talk
I think
I interact
But I still feel isolated
Abandoned by understanding
Deserted by knowledge
I'm mysterious to most because
I'm unknown to myself.
Who am I?
I don't know.
I self mutilate to see if
I feel the pain.
I feel none.
I feel numb.
As the blood pours down my left
Arm, I'm relieved that I do bleed.
Suicidal thoughts flashes throughout
My mind
But love pumps my heart.
My heart reinforces hope.
Who am I?
I don't know
The Death of companions
Has taken parts of my puzzle.
I'm an incomplete masterpiece,
A flawed design.
Components to who I am is lost
Never to be seen in this lifetime.
Copyright © Michael Pickings | Year Posted 2014
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Michael Pickings Poem
I'm lost
Damage from pain inflicted from
Arrows and spears through the heart.
A long journey
Coupled with years of tears,
Sorrow and insufferable torment.
I am a king
A lion,my roars move swiftly through the African pride lands.
I was made for power and protection.
But who will protect me?
Gods cursed me
As a lone warrior
Rooming from jungle to desert
To find my queen.
Villagers fear me
They spear me
Loud cries of a king but no one
Can hear me.
I feel death creeping up near me.
Nature hides me and guides me
To a lioness.
We touch noses gently to show acceptance
My eyes her eyes gaze at the sunset
Thinking this day I will never forget.
There is an untold voyage
A plagued odyssey
No cubs was birth at the
End of the prophecy.
Others have procreated successfully
No genes passed
I guess that's just destiny.
A roar once loud proud strong and stern
Has turned into nothing more than a whisper in the air.
A great kings death without a living heir.
Copyright © Michael Pickings | Year Posted 2014
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Michael Pickings Poem
I am a black man
Successful, educated, daring
But still bond by chains
From the look a likes that aren't me.
No longer is it "The Man" that
Persecute me, it's my own kind.
Dragging me back
Back into time.
The way I dress
Suit and tie
The way I talk
Sophisticated toss the slang
The way I handle business
Punctual all the time.
The way I ride
No glossy rims all black looks clean
On the outside
The way I walk
Head up, shoulders back taking
Every stride with the most pride.
Jealousy
Envy
Hate
In nearly every eye
I see it through my window as I drive
By.
Not knowing the road I took was
Extensive and intensive.
They look at me with despise
I take it as offensive.
But I keep my head in the books
My hand on the pencil
That's why they are where they
Are because they where apprehensive.
Call me sell out
Call me white boy
Call me Uncle Tom
Because when its all said and done
I'm still god's son.
And I'm not stuck in the hood
I'm somewhere on the beach
Sipping a drink having fun.
Copyright © Michael Pickings | Year Posted 2014
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Michael Pickings Poem
A dark cloud hovers above me
Emitting violent lightening strikes
And earth shaking thunderous
Roars.
A perfect storm of hellish winds and
Hail mixed with rain.
Violent tornadoes coupled with
Disastrous hurricanes and immense
Pressure builds up inside my head.
I feel the heat boiling and radiating
Through my pores.
This anger I keep bottled up within
A confined space it's free to roam.
Gamma rays slam into my iron nucleus forming a sudden and deadly
Supernova.
Wars of past lives run rampant through my brain.
Soldier's deaths I feel every life taken when I close my eyes to dream.
My only peace is the lady that loves
Me hard.
It's enough to keep the beast at bay.
She is my savior.
Though nightmares rage through
My brain like the atmosphere of
Jupiter.
I remain calm for Mother Earth.
If damnation is my destiny
I gladly accept it.
In the darkness of a black hole
I store secrets of lives lived.
Death before dishonor
Loyalty over torment
Love above life.
Copyright © Michael Pickings | Year Posted 2014
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Michael Pickings Poem
I feel her gracing through my mind like a breeze of fresh air cooling me on a hot summer day. I get goose bumps as my heart thumps at each touch of her from her fingertips. my heart pumps faster and faster; this could be a disaster, uncontrollable emotions crowd me like a magic potion and the love I have for her is as vast as the ocean and I'm a boat in free float going with the motion. Deep seas and strong wind show her violent and deadly ways; high seas shows her destructive waves but I love the way she portrays to be hard to navigate. She has sunken every candidate because a broken heart she can relate. If you hesitate, to love her the waters will never calm but I come with love from beyond with a bond that's great and a love that can never be fake.
By soul of a man
Copyright © Michael Pickings | Year Posted 2014
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