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These Inspirational History poems are examples of Inspirational poems about History. These are the best examples of Inspirational History poems written by international PoetrySoup poets
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Tradition and dress
A nations finesse
Symbolic in style
By a country mile
The drone of the pipes
Tartan clad
Bonnie on the girls
Proud on the lads
Highland dancers
In kilted skirts
Grooms at weddings
Kilt and dirk
But our Tartan and Pipes
Go back many years
Led soldiers into battles
See the enemy fear
After Culloden
Both were banned
A country naked
At the English hand
Our clans of many
In colours so grand
Woven by weavers
Our women's hands
All over the world
Scots are spread
Taking their Tartans
Of green, blue and red
It's a welcome reminder
To the kin of their past
Never forgotten
Designed to last
This plaid of cloth
History enriched
Scottish pride
In every stitch
And like our pipes
From centuries past
This Scottish of Scots
Are here to last
Our dark founding father, of American literature,
A sinister beacon of darkness, lighting the way
Into the darkened abyss of mankind's soul.
Within the galleria of madness, he is the
Grandmaster of the black ink, and it's
Written words of terror.
In thus the shadow realm, does his spirit
Still roam, on the cutting edge of fear,
A fine thin line, is drawn between reality,
And fictions illusionary world.
Life's a shunned, abandonment's creation,
The lord's misbegotten son, embraced
The night's cloak, in it's power
His only salvation unto history's
Remembrance, is found a truth's
Justice and notability's respect.
Loves passionate compliant servant,
Dashed against the rocks of life itself,
Broken and damaged, he rose above
The waves of poverty, and the under
Current of tragedies broken
Some may say he wrote from the after
Effects that laid, at the bottom
Of the bottle.
Or afterfeeds drug endued comma, dulling
The emotional nerves concept between
Right and wrong, the social exceptionable
But we care not what others wish to believe,
For we honor him, those of us the dark poets,
As the father whom lead the way, between
Light and dark.
Dearest Edger Allen Poe, the legend, the man,
A spiritual dark representative, with pens quailed
Ink at his command.
Dead men tell no tails, or so the winds of
Destiny's say.
On judgment hill from on high,
Voices do echo downwards, as the
Noose does sway, back and forth, on the
Hangman's tree.
These gallows, of oaken branches, act as tethers,
Shackles, holding the forsaken, souls prisoner.
Ghost phantoms cling, to it's rotten limbs,
That break beneath times endless rampage.
Regrets fallen horsemen, of the old west,
Stand guard, sentinels on horse back,
Wearing a tarnished tin star.
God's law keepers, are branded, sworn,
By their honor, to protect even after death,
The gates of heaven, from this spawn of hell.
Beware evil desperadoes, no mercy will
This the lord's posses show unto you,
For these riders bare a different mark.
A silver cross of justice, given by
The Almighty's hand himself.
Say thy prayers, all lawless men,
For on this day, does the rope tighten,
Around your neck, there is no reprieve,
No salvation for evils deceit.
Hell bound are thou, the devils breed.
But beware, there is no escape,
From this grave site.
At dawns first light, as it spreads
Across the western horizon.
Know that yee, are one of many spirits
Doomed, to be weaved within the
Tangled limbs, called the hang
Mans tree.
Somewhere in midnight's nocturnal hallways
As the chill settles down with starlight
While the world stands silent in waiting
There abiding with his flock walks the shepherd
Hopeful in thought and yet weary of foot
He moves his charges through the bite of night
His hope in the coming dawn lifts his burdens
Filling his minds eye with warm musings of tomorrow
In tones they beseech the day and challenge darkness
But through this constant cycle of shine and shadow
The guardian of the flock stands steadfast and waits
The promise begins as His voice appears cherubically
Falling in fear and praying for strength of faith
The radiance in the sky softens ever slightly
Speaking of the vow and announcing the messiah
Who brings the world a love and a hope yet tasted
Tremulous breath's as the promise is spoken
Awing the greatness with a loving and respectful fear
Silent in belief beholding the coming miracle
He stirs the somnolent flock down the slopes
To bestow upon all the gift of this divine hour
His breath brittle's the final icy moments of dusk
He labors the trail with renewed strength of heart
Proclaiming hushed gratitude within every step
A beacon of brilliance converges in the heavens
Beckoning his faithful west toward little Bethlehem
Dropping to his knees his face wetted in thanks
Finally understanding what is gripping his soul
He sees the precarious pathway laid before him
Though he has journeyed into the unknown before
None had brought with it a promise so precious
Many times the ocean
has saved Nippon, pearl of the sea,
an oceanic symbiosis a speck in a fecund see.
The dikes of man such miniscule plans to hold back the tide.
The throngs, each and all crawl across the thin skin of volcanic soil
or rise with in the hump-backed alps of remnant cones.
Yet, the sea rises to reclaim its own
scour the pallet of man, refine, burnish melt, reform.
With pen and sword kanji drawn, samurai born
with knife and bone entrails torn, honor tested
tested by the hand of He,
tested and found worthy.
The children of the Divine Wind
rise above the tsunami, as one, unbowed.
I sat down to study the Netherlands tried to gather all the scoop
Entering every contest cause I'm new to Poetry Soup
I read all the poetry masters to grow I must surely invest
What I've discovered in almost no time is why Soup poets are the best
Zerbst wrote an anthem with some amazing poetic twist
Made me wish I was from Freisland this sprawling sealand really exist
Dr. Ram wrote a history thesis he even quotes the great Shakespeare
The Netherlands in an Italian sonnet another masterpiece was here
Cornish obviously did his homework in couplet form he holds command
Displays the heart and pride of the people when I read his words I want to stand
Andrea's the Soup contest master so you knew she'd draw her pen
With perfection her ode to Freisland, Ms. Dietrich has done it once again
I could go on with the works on Netherlands a shout out to John, Ralph, and Tim
A descriptive write by Huberta van Akkeren, these odes will make sweet Elly grin
So I learned all about the Netherlands another ode wasn't needed from me
To be proud of this majestic country... May she ever be beautiful and free!
Sponsor: Elly Wouterse
Contest Name: Your ode to 'my' Netherlands and/or 'my' Friesland
*Happy Birthday Elle!
A shaman prays, the Spirit hears
While a Seventh Calvary regiment waits
Unarmed, a tribe endures a Union's hate
Their animosities, and their fears
As the blue coats begin to circle...
Their wrath begins to circle.
That shaman saw but a single Spirit
That was split between different beliefs
He could accept the white Spirit Chief
But the white men would not hear it
They would not blend their God
With the red heathen God.
Anger explodes behind powdered shot
Spraying death from muzzled shame
Cruelly winning their ill gotten fame
Painted heroes claim a tainted spot
History claims the Ghost Dance...
As death claims the last dance.
A Dakota creek runs darkly red
Forever silencing the Ghost Dance
A chanting shaman dies in his trance
One hundred fifty Sioux lay dead
Now, only blue coats remain...
Only the blue remain.
A creek ran red with Union shame
When a shaman called the Spirit Great
And that Spirit did not hesitate
He fell on Wounded Knee and came
To take His people home...
His people swiftly home.
Timothy I. Brumley
I am like
embraced by serpents many
always trying something new
and dramatic with my
I am like
Eva Patrón
growing up with a painful family
getting lost in movies
thinking of my own
hypnotizing when I speak
First lady of Argentina
meeting you, after death
would be a treat
a nervous habit, of nibbling
on my jewelry
the similarities, between us
gave me a sense of foolery
I am like
Wilma Mankiller
Chief of the Cherokee Tribe
for ten years
fighting against Native stereotypes
despite such distress
enemies did stress
promoting to 'be of good mind'
you were a leader, of your time
an advocator for women
that they may grow up
and become chief
as a child, you wondered
the forests, like me
not the streets
I am like
Aung San Suu Kyi
wearing three types of
flowers in your hair
feeling at times like a
'splinter of glass, sharp, glinting
power to defend itself against hands
that try to crush'
winner of a Nobel Peace Prize,
for courage, was
a must
I am like
Catherine The Great
a love to laugh,
coffee, and feeling compelled
to always fill abandoned blank
sheets of paper
you were a Royal Russian Empress,with
not one red drop of Russian blood
and her people, were blessed
to have her
I am like
the Queen of England
longest royal lifetime in history
strong built, from a miserable childhood
toughened her
this is no mystery
preferring candle light
to electricity
handwriting over typewriter
and poetry
I am like
Indira Gandhi
dreaming to live as she did
riding elephants and having
tiger cubs as companions
your own Sikh security
killed you, the story
a sad one
secret dreams of being a writer
angered, by the imbalance of
between men and women
listening to beat poets
like Ginsberg
as a great Prime Minister of India
you were heard
and understood
I am like
Rigoberta Menchú
drew the worlds attention to
native Indians rights,
because of you
your goal, to be
a drop of water on a rock
dripping in the same spot,
eventually in the world, you
may leave a mark
wearing many colors
'because it gives you life'
insisting men and women be equals
you fought this fight
to relax, as I do
writing poetry into
the night
I am like
Joan of Arc
French Military Heroine
burned at the stake at just
age nineteen
known for keeping your cool
even on the battlefield
being a courageous and inspirational
rare jewel
Legendary Lady Leaders
I salute you
Amidst these inlets and islands
Lies a land of a patriot nation
Where clans decree their might
Together in mixed relation
From the Lowlands to the Highlands
Family names of a forgotten past
Deliver us to their present
For these surnames are here to last
Sunrises and sunsets have so greeted
Many a morn and an eve has been seen
To be born into such a nation
Through their eyes, you see just your dream
For to be born on the land of the heather
Through Glens of bracken and fern's
Birthed into one of their clans
Your first breath you have duly earned
Amidst these inlets and islands
Lies a land of a patriot nation
Where clans decree their might
Welcome to Alba, the ultimate creation
< Cascading lakes and streams
The loon stands out it seems
Minnesota's state bird
I know it must sound absurd
Adopted in nineteen sixty one
Wails and yodels heard under the sun
Black and white bearing red eyes
Wingspans five feet can make one cry
Body lengths up to three feet
Yet clumsy on lands and moss peat
They are high speed flyers
And great underwater divers
They can dive up to ninety feet
In pursuit of fish they want to eat
They are even on our license plates
An critical habitat drawn on metal slates
Twelve thousand of these unique birds
God that has to be a lot of turds
But for now I'll enjoy it's captured views
Of this beautiful loon and it's most colorful hues
Written By Katherine Stella
Entry For Mini - Blog Beautiful Bird Contest
By Constance ~ A Rambling Poet
Don't point your finger at the thief
For losing sovereignty
It's not the fault of Hollywood
If God, we don't believe.
The pace of life accelerated
When first we wouldn't wait
To seek Divine direction at
The start of every day.
Then babies resting in the womb
Broken, limb from limb,
With suctioned brains in bio-bags
Or moved to stem-cell bins.
Children raised by villages so
They won't be in the way
Of self-absorbed, unfeeling parents
Selfishly at play.
We teach them they are primates
With no purpose to their life,
Then wonder why some children
Choose death to calm their strife.
Eight were saved from flooding rains
And four from Sodom's Gloom,
Where are the righteous found today
To escape a pending doom?
The Second book, Chronicles,
Gives warnings we must heed
To evade the coming judgment in
Chapter seven and verse fourteen.
Yes, judgment stands before this land
We call the U.S.A.
The source is not the sinner but
Those called by HIS own name.
Would be better to deny HIM,
To remain one with the world,
Than to falsely represent HIM
And defile HIS HOLY WORD!
The third of HIS Commandment Laws
Means more than blasphemy,
It's how we wear the name of Christ
When someone else can see.
God's patience thins so GRACEfully
Til Israel stands alone,
Then comes our condemnation from
"I AM", still on HIS throne.
Yet the only way to turn around
Fierce judgments sure to come,
Depends on true repentance from
The ones that wear HIS name.
To those of us, HIS Mercies claim
Let's join, repent, and pray,
That GOD will heal our wayward land
And spare HIS WRATH today!
Pieces of history
We clutch to our chests
Life changing
These events
Which seek to crush us
Do not
For they hold us together
Making us stronger
More firm are we
In our resolve
To be one nation
Under God
Words would fail me if I might assay
To articulate the courage of this man.
The numerous facets of his dossier
Are subject for song in a distant land.
Awakened in youth from serene dreams
By the melodious blast of Israel's horn.
Tall standing received earth's esteems,
Accepting God's charge wherefore he was born.
His marble image cleaves the bluest sky,
And his halo is now a crown about his brow.
His peace of mind earth can no longer deny,
For he has now fulfilled his earthly vow.
It can only suppose with the midnight of the mind,
What may be reason's welcome morning star.
One day he may return even more divine,
With a holier task from God who reigns from afar.
There's no thunder heard from Sinai's height,
And we see no parting waves at Jordan's bank.
We have followed no truer soldier in our darkest night,
And now are marching on bravely in file and rank.
Rolling on in faith toward the welcome dawn,
The good fight won he's earned the honor of Moses.
Now trekking the soul's desert to the divine throne,
He follows God's light up the street of yellow roses.
Ain't a word, you said.
but it takes a daring gust
for things start to be.
On Independence Day
I declare independence
from American imperialism.
I declare U.S. out of Iraq.
And while I am at it
the C.I.A. out of the business
of supplying murderous thugs
with rifles and uniforms
along with the strategies
to extinguish
democracy in Haiti.
I also call for the pullout
of State Department funding
in the not so secret
of the fair and duly elected
President of Venezuela.
On Independence Day
I have the right to say
we need a new policy.
Therefore, I call
for independence from oil.
I call for windmills
and solar panels
and cool looking hybrid cars
getting 100 miles to the gallon.
I am tired of chanting
No Blood For Oil.
On Independence Day
I look to a nation
involved in war for war's sake
war to simulate the economy
and make our leaders look great
and call for a different fate.
I declare our politicians
give up corporate sponsorship
and live up to this great nation's
highest aspirations.
Freedom from
illegal occupation.
Freedom from
propaganda and torture.
Freedom from
criminal actions
on sovereign nations.
I declare transcendence.
I declare we live up to
life, liberty and the pursuit
of happiness
for all humanity.
I declare world independence
from monarchies, theocracies
totalitarianism, oligarchies
and otherwise puppet regimes.
And I declare we all share these
inalienable rights.
Including the right to assemble
organize and form unions.
Protect the health
of our elders
newborns and the environment.
And I refuse those who would
deny blacks
the same rights as whites
by suppressing their vote
with twelve hour lines
in the blistering cold.
Let us all have our say!
And while I am at it
give the poor a megaphone
on mainstream talk shows
let their voices be heard
in the court of public opinion.
I declare freedom from
billionaire owned media
Let independent democracy
infiltrating the television.
Thus let us all speak our truth
and be protected
from the tyrannical majority
and those empowered by the muzzle.
I declare that our forefathers
envisioned this and much more
in the age of enlightenment.
So that one day
every one of us
on this magnificent planet
regardless of class or culture
national and religious origin
sexual persuasion or gender
would be endowed and empowered
by an independent
yet universal
human rights agenda.
Dean Walker
The greatest holiday gift I ever received
Goes back so many, many years
Before my life became turmoiled
And before my tears for fears
I was a child like many out there
Torn, strewn and split of kin
Mother and father in differences
Confused at seven, wearing their same skin
For I was one of the lucky ones
To a Highland Estate I would go
It's on the west coast of Scotland
Where my holidays desired me so
Secretly I internally smiled
For a whisper of where I was heading
To live with a movie star hero
No longer my life was in dreading
We were picked up by a man so fine
His manners were an absolute joy
Regimental he was in his approach
To me, just a seven year old boy
We travelled through the village of Plockton
Crystal clear waters edged to it's shore
I knew from this very moment
Being here ebbed previous family sores
On entering his house I was in awe
Movie pictures came to my view
They were images of James Bond
At seven I was totally through
A voice called to me
Hey James! sit down and I'll tell you me
Still in circles in walking awe
This is what he told thee
My name is Patrick Dalzel Job
In the Second World War I served
But this recognition I bestow
Humbles me to it's deserve
This honour that's been given
Was blessed by a colleague in war
What desired Ian Fleming to be so striven
Possibly, what we were fighting for
We served on the same destroyer
Fighting to make the future free
His tribute, in his novels I became
James Bond, it's incredibly me
Not many seven year olds have stayed with James Bond.
This seven year old Scot's boy has, maybe I learnt?
A symbol of respect, pride, and strength,
not to be ruffled, wadded, or soiled,
to be folded, unfurled, raised for all to see,
as in going into battle resounding victory.
Not to be tattered, torn, or burned in effigy,
rather a symbol of hope to those in bondage,
of hate for those who seek to enslave,
of patriotism to those who guard fiercely,
enshrined with those who died for liberty,
entrusted to each generation to decide its fate,
to be the most loved or most hated,
to be seen in every city, state, and on foreign soil,
wherever seen, America is found.
No other symbol rises above or would be allowed,
representing freedom, recognized the world round,
a powerful adversary to an enemy
a gentle giant to those who are represented.
A symbol of red and white,
with fifty shining stars on a field of blue,
call it a flag,
in reality it is you.
Nippy air bites the skin, sunlight trails off in a sky so morose;
bare trees contemplate the yellow grass below mourning their lost splendor;
be that messenger of the Season's Greetings and avoid being sad and alone...
welcome to my holiday home at this special time of the year!
Assist me in decorating the pine-scented and candle-lit rooms ,
of my lair; please, come in and accept my hospitality with ardor;
let's chat over dinner and sparkling wine until darkness looms...
welcome to my holiday home at this special time of the year!
Anticipate the thrill of the Holidays with a big smile spreading cheer:
dream of snow, of Santa riding his sleigh from the cold North Pole;
he'll remember every good kid who has shown obedience and grace...
welcome to my holiday home at this special time of the year!
I looked for a Christmas Tree crossing the snowy boardline,
searching the nearest forest for the tallest, prittiest one
with the help of neighbors who had a good will and no fear...
welcome to my holiday home at this special time of year!
So much I will share and learn this Holiday Season announcing a divine birth
to the Earth below brightened by candles, twinkling lights and mirth;
admire my decorations of garlands and golden bells to make you merrier...
welcome to my Holiday home at this very special time of year!
Family, friends and neighbors gather around this fireplace that will bewilder us,
let's remember the wonderful birth of our Savior Jesus, who came to visit us;
hear the song of the angels echoing through the chilly air...
welcome to my holiday home at this special time of year!
Beneath the fathom's deep, in wreckage's graveyard
Of the forgotten, here the broken bones of ships lie still,
Covered in a forest of seaweeds greenery.
Corrosion steel hauls ripped wide open, lay against ancient
Wooden beams from vessels voyages, of long ages distant past.
Faded names, render no clues reference, for the maritime detective.
But tragedies lost vessels, did ride upon the frothy foam,
And spray above, sailing the big blues timeless tides.
Nay Poseidon's toll ti's payed in sailors flesh, melting
Humanities dreams beneath his drowning waves.
Beauties fare, and proud are they, the crippled,
Swallowed whole by the aquatic storms avenging rage.
Mercy's mere-angels weep thus, for the mortal souls lost,
Guiding them towards their spiritual resting place below,
And welcoming them unto their fathers kingdom beneath,
The abysses darkening depths.
Torn asunder is mankind's well hued craft, shattered
Into bits pieces, large to small, a glittering shards
Rain of destruction. crashing into the muddy bottom,
Of the under belly of the sea itself.
Deaf are the silent cry's of men, whom leave only
Bubbles streaming upwards, as their last epitaphs
Tribute for thy existence.
The devil's gardens, swim these black waters,
Turning them crimson red, sharp toothed monsters,
Feasting upon carrion discarded left overs.
Dark figures, phantom creatures, lurking just below,
The briny surface, awaiting for the Poseidon's next victim,
To join the graveyard of ships.
Faded are their names, forgotten titles, as the paint
Peels, on the once majestic vessels.
Now they remain wreckage's ruins, abandon to the
Mercy of erosion masterful hand of destruction.
Hear the sounding clanging of bells, whom ring in
Silences of troubled waters abode, it is the cracking
Of doom, beware thy young lad, he whom seeks fortunes
Favor abroad, for only fools test the might of the sea,
Against thy own grit and survive.
Thus thee shed a tear for the fallen, dear lad,
For no other will on the dead's behalf, in thine
Cemetery of the graveyard of ships. no passages
Return tickets are given.
The Letter
DEAR Marlene,
Sweet heart of the dead
Adored by generations not yet born
Marlene we love you.
Your beauty burned the wings of JFK
And brought big John to his knees.
For your love, was meant for more.
You shocked the World with a velvet kiss
An elegant truth in a sea of Fools.
It took one voice to start a War,
One bullet to unite false prophets
One woman to speak out.
You ostracized the Nazis for what they were.
Stood tall, through treason
Did not follow, Hitler's Spell
Chose to Love America s freedom instead.
When Reapers scythe came
Song and Compassion was your shield.
It Gave comfort to the damned as shell and mortar pound
Your words a respite, from the fear
And your beauty, a reminder.
That love awaits the Soldiers return.
Back to the German farms and the English meadows
For love knows nothing of war.
You witnessed holy sacrilege,
Saw blind disciples fuel the reapers fire
Both sides, in the name of god,
Oh how heaven must have wept
Marlene you dared to question religion,
For Your soul could see through the flames,
While others perished in mortals Pride.
You Asked god to review his plan.
Only you, Marlene could do that
Where have all the flowers gone
Your message to Humanity,
But the Heinkel and the Spitfire
Flew too high to hear
And the flowers of youth
All Eaten by silent sheep, and taken to yet another slaughter.
Yet be proud Marlene
For Your echo awakened a new generation to peace,
Although lasting peace is like true love, so hard to find,
But never the less, a goal we devote our lives to.
Some countries have found their Peace
While other search.
Humanity is still a child in these matters,
And war still goes on
When will they ever, learn, when will they, ever learn.
Try to forgive us,
Perhaps the man upstairs,
Really does have another plan, Marlene Dietrich,
At least I'm sure that Eternity
Will be a far more beautiful and interesting place
With you in it,
and I look forward to meeting you.
Love Steven
Footnote to this poem
JFK relates to her affair with President Kennedy
Big john relates to her affair with John Wayne
The Velvet kiss was the first lesbian kiss on main stream cinema 1930
Marlene was bisexual.
The line where have all the flowers gone and when will they ever learn comes from the song forever associated with Marlene Dietrich.
Brief Biography
Born 1901 in Germany
First film in 1920
Became American Citizen 1937
Awarded Medal of Freedom USA 1947
Awarded Legion of Honor by France
Died 1992 in Paris.
Jesus came
was slain
crucified died
he's alive
Jesus is risen
we forgiven
compassionate friend
untill the end
father spirit son
three in one
Bibles read
well fed
to our king
Jesus' style
to reconcile
Happy days
God's ways
peace be
with thee amen
Isaac's son
saac's son
O Israel where are you
I know you are not a Jew
Joseph come home
come home O child come home
I spy David's thrown
we'll have to make preparations
to bring it back to Jerusalem
so that when our savior comes home
he will have a proper place to sit
there upon his fathers thrown
for sins the Lord with held the blessings
over twenty five hundred years
and then we suddenly received them
swiftly they fade away
think we will ever learn our lesson
think we'll ever straighten our ways
"Be sure to observe my Sabbaths
keep the sanctified day
do not go around worshiping idols"
now blessings are fading away
does anybody else know
what does the word of God say
soon the skies will be iron
and the land will turn to brass
plagues shall scald our people
and our cities will break like glass
that fell down from the heavens
shattered and scattered all to pieces
we should have obeyed the laws of our father
like we were told to by the great king Jesus
O Ephraim, O Manasseh
I pray we learn our lesson fast
so that the pain doesn't have to last
we will all soon be slaves
God's will and try to be brave
still I pray
my God have mercy
and I pray to see the day
when we all learn to live
within God's laws and learn his ways
O America, O Britain
nation overseas and mine
don't you know God is going to punish us
time after time after time
until we learn the way to happiness
and inherit eternal life
we will walk by the river of life that flows
I guess we'll have to learn the hard way
I guess that's just how it goes
they don't believe God and they wont believe me
I guess that soon enough
everybody in the world will know
everybody in the world will see
(Jer: 50:4-6)
In those days, and in that time, saith the LORD,
the children of Israel shall come, they and the children of Judah together,
going and weeping: they shall go, and seek the LORD their God.
They shall ask the way to Zion with their faces thitherward, saying, Come,
and let us join ourselves to the LORD in a perpetual covenant that shall not be
My people hath been lost sheep: their shepherds have caused them to go astray,
they have turned them away on the mountains:
they have gone from mountain to hill,
they have forgotten their resting place.
Only silence dresses her rigging now
To the call of the bosun's whistle
Her hatches now stand locked and secure
Where long past sailors once lingered
She is the last of the old frigates
Moored in the shallows of Charlestown
Board her and hear her echoes of valor
Haughtily anchored her colors humbly fly
No blemishes on her hull show her battles
Her carronades still sit silently waiting
As she floats mythically at ease
For a moment I can hear the great moans
Her keel and sailors cresting Atlantic waves
To Captain Hulls orders to come about
And charge on the enemy ship Guerriere
On her decks I feel the plight of her dead
Hearing stories of centuries old bulkheads
Astounding feats of a morose pride
To have brought their foe to capitulate
Now she stands tacit though ever grand
And still on her decks and deep in the bowels
The mighty spirit of U.S.S. Constitution dwells
A monument of endurance softly whispering
"Lest we remember long forgotten sacrifices…"
An earthen gray memorial stands alone against
A rugged desert landscape, built by the mortal
Hands of the faithful.
No bells do ring, in the churches steeple, but in the
Heart of Texas it's sounding message can never
Be silenced, remember the Alamo.
For the fighting men of valor's honors sacrificed,
All for liberation's call to freedom.
Listen to their whispering voices, traveling
Across the tangle weed dunes, and harken unto
Them, never to surrender even after death, do
They fight for country, hearth, and home.
These pioneer men whom built this nation's
Backbone, carved it out, with steeled bowie knife
Sharpened edge, and musket balls powder's flash.
Gathered here, for one last hurrah's gallant stand off,
To the victor's gaining everlasting immortality.
Gallantry's brave, shed their dearest blood, sacrificing
Giving everything they had, including life itself.
Cannon thunder bolts roar, as lightening rods raw force
Striking against mortars harden walls, yet the
Spirits of bravery strong, did not yield, or raise
The white shield of surrender.
Keep thy black powder dry, lift your rifles high,
But don't fire men, until you see the whites of
Your enemies eyes.
Under the hailing of gunfire's smoke, did hells
Storm rage, both sides dying for their country's
Beliefs right or wrong.
Death's battlefield littered with fragments deceased,
A graveyard left unattended, wars unfortunate
Fallen, became salvation's tribute to behold, in the distance
A tattered flag, still waves in the winds of freedom.
Bricks of defense, shattered as if made of glass,
Debris spewing outwards, towards martyred legacy's
Champions, killing many before they hit the ground,
Receiving remains of the valiant dead.
Oh in the heaven's trumpets did herald, these
Courageous souls, welcoming honored soldiers, home wards
Unto God's boundless country, for these explorers
To discover the horizon's endless divides beyond.
Prisoners living, taken by horse and rider were forced
To bow, beneath a foreign banners alien flag.
Yet even than their American hearts didn't waiver,
Until the swords steel severed life, from the fleshes beating
Drumming from within.
But the last warrior yelled a rebels battle cry,
And as he fell with his last dying breath,
Yelled out,
Remember the Alamo!!
I am the
Scot's thistle
The emblem of my
proud country it has
been our valiant
pride for so
many years
The thistle has been the national emblem of Scotland
since the reign of Alexander III (1249 - 1286) and was
used on silver coins issued by James III in 1470.
According to the legend, an invading Norse army was
attempting to sneak up at night upon a Scots army
encampment. During this operation one barefoot Norseman
had the misfortune to step upon a Scots Thistle,
causing him to cry out in pain, thus alerting Scots
to the presence of the Norse invaders.
My entry into Deborah Guzzi's " Oh, what a Shape I'm in! " contest.
Not easy doing the above, i nearly went cross eyed.
Upon the green hills of Cymru
I stand arrested by the veiw
of cryptic sea and ancient shore
that stood ten thousand years before
they met my callow eye
and will remain for many more
long after I die
I'm solemn above the briny stew
with thoughts of kin I never knew
fishing the sea, mining the coal
or mining the depths of a poet's soul
A nation's buried history
revived once more because it knows
the blood that flows through me
Blood that fed this fertile soil
with the Celtic tears and toil
of Warriors dead b'neath the peat
that pads the soles of anglish feet
the true Princes of Wales
rule no more upon this shore
except in children's tales
The epic song of Arthur's quest
or Madoc's journey somewhere west
stories of the Mabinogion
or family tales of distant kin
who fought so hard, but failed
to keep their ancient birthright
so to distant lands they sailed
Centuries pass, now here I stand
a stranger in this native land
welcomed by the foe of yore
that chased my people from this shore
leaving me a world apart
from the Cymru pulsing through my blood
and beating in my heart
Walk does he not the specter of death,
His saith raised high, even he himself has had
Enough killing, on the battlefield of Gettysburg,
Satan screams, stop sons of men, truly war
Is hell on earth.
Time's spiritual voices cry out, as the wind
Blows through the tall over grow grasses,
Of this Pennsylvanian State park.
Injured spirits, roam as phantom soldiers,
Seeking salvation's reprieves preservation,
From their damnation.
On the Devil's Den reddened rock, centuries
Still stand guard, knelling sharp shooters,
Fire at will, as the drummers beat, at rhythm's
Death march.
Gun powers burnt smell fills the air,
As the loud canons echo in the distance,
Mayhem's discord has left destruction's
Bloodshed, these numbers estimation
Of flesh and bone, are guessed yet it's
Resolution unknown.
Blown are the horns of Calvary's call,
Reinforcement's sacred hesitating for aid,
But none come to it's deadening's sounding.
Mourn do the orphan's of war, in their fathers
Name, so they do weep in sorrow remembrance.
A war-ravaged companion, lead by freedom
Seekers, the end to release bondage's salves,
Stain our great country with it's own blood.
Brother against brother, two flags of belief
Striking each other, north vs the south,
Behold it was the American Civil War.
A revolutionary uprising of idealism,
That all man have the right to be free,
And live without the chains of oppression.
It is in this haunted place, at cemetery ridge,
That the final battle lines are marked in
Bloods deadliest charge ahead.
Many souls still serve here, never shall
They know the light of peace.
All bow low unto Pharaoh,
Queen of all upper, and lower Egypt.
Hollowed halls echo thy name,
Cast red sails towards infinity's,
Swift currents.
Nile waters part steadily
Anubis guardian of the dead,
Receive thus living deity.
Let sacred alters burn bright,
Light sacrifices ashen embers,
In thine honers reverence.
Beneath desertions desert ruins,
Lies etched upon mortar's stone.
A royal tomb bearing her,
Unspoken name, Nefertiti.
Golden saddles press against,
Mortals realm,
Behold a phantom goddess,
Brushed ageless,
By times untarnished memory,
The pasted reveals truths,
Through redemption's flame,
Two scepters crisis cross,
Within beauty's touch.
An ancient throne has,
Been reclaimed.
Raise great sphinx, from
Your sacred resting place,
Shake free fetters sandy mane,
Breath once again,
His might's roar harold's,
Her return.
Soft winds blow against,
Freedoms breeze,
Exposing a glittering figure,
Standing tall,
Beside the great monolith.
All bow low unto Pharaoh,
Queen of all upper, and lower
Hollowed halls echo thy name.
Profound silence
felt and revered,
stirring an awesome emotion,
which stillness repeals
whenever brightness shines;
and the primroses' scent spreads the delight
of the mild season.
What do the stars
tell a lover's heart...palpitating
in tranquility, amid shadows
that advance with the pretty fireflies?
Dream, and reprieve from the loss...
hoping that love doesn't lay at rest,
but chooses to celebrate
'till after the evening, and tell romantic tales.
The invisible crickets chirp,
somewhat awkward to the ears,
I'd rather hear the coos of the owls,
which are richer and more harmonious in sound,
but where are they in this darkness, unless
they are mating in the willows of the lake?
Our blanket is spread on the wide Sheep Meadow,
with a superb view of those Manhattan's skycrapers,
towering over us as sentinels in castle's towers.
Juliet wanted to taste this freedom,
embracing and kissing her handsome Romeo,
not fearing anyone intruding in her paradise,
unwilling to leave anytime soon;
and unruffled, she would continue to love him.
What do the stars tell a lover's heart?
Accept the lovely rose that he offers you, and adore it,
because it has no thorns, to make you bleed in despair;
Sing with him a beautiful sonnet that Shakespeare wrote
for his lover who crossed the Atlantic ocean,
when ships took months to reach America's shore.
The Polynesian pearl of the Northern Pacific,
A glittering paradise gleaming in brilliance,
Set float amongst the oceans clear waters.
A beautiful jewel reflecting in the different
Shades of aquatic blues.
The winds of peace blew in this tropical
Nirvana, until the ruler of the far east,
Thrust down his mighty fist of power,
Against the foreign invaders.
From the land of the rising sun, did
The red dragon awakens, blazing with a
Fires smoke, scaring a nations flag,
For generations to come.
It's scared wings as silent as a
Tiger, stalking in a thickets tall grass,
Of disbelief, it pounced without warning.
The American flag did spread out in
Protection, over top a sleeping harbor,
Lulled into a dreaming state of world peace.
As the eagle did lie at rest, the sons
Of the red dragon struck, at it's farthest
Point edge of it's nest.
Setting it's kindling to burn and sink,
Beneath the waters, of histories swift
The bird of freedoms liberation, now
Alert defends it's territory's, by talons
Claws, and sharpened beaks bite.
Driving the dragons brewed backwards,
And reclaiming it's rightful perch, on
The stage of destiny.
But the pearl lies tarnished and broken,
Cracked forever this once Eden, never to
To be a child of innocence again.
Only a white momentum stands to mark
It's loss, she weeps the Polynesian princess,
For what has been done can never be undone.
A pearl necklaces of peace, torn apart by two
Titan's nations hatred, now it is nothing but
A broken strand and she is a prisoner,
Caught In the choke hold, of power between
The two of them.
In 1296
Under Edward the first
Our destiny was stolen
My country cursed
In 1328
There were talks of it's return
For six more centuries
We would wait and yearn
On Christmas day
In 1950
Four Scottish students
Decided to shift thee
A plot was in motion
To take back our stone
Return it to Scotland
For it should never have roamed
From West Minster Abbey
Our stone was retaken
Returned back up north
To a country forsaken
They returned to the church
This great stone of the Scots
To Arbroath Abbey
From a time so fraught
The police in London
Were informed of it's location
It was eventually returned
To the original thieving nation
In 1996
In a symbolic response
To the dissatisfaction of Scots
Our political taunts
For on November the 15th
We met on our border
Our eyes transfixed
Of red sandstone
With iron rings
For upon who sits
A new monarch it brings
This block of stone
And where it lies
It's in Edinburgh castle
Where our proud saltire flies
Back home
Where it was meant to be
Historical Scotland's
Stone of Destiny
Stolen by Scotland's children for the future of Scotland's children.
There is talk of it's return south of the border for the next coronation?
I very much doubt us Scot's will tolerate this request.
One of the most positive writes i have witnessed to date
Was written today and well worth the wait
An awesome Quatrain, by this Devonshire poet
If you have read her past writes, you would certainly know it
What we see in our world now, is what she wants us to see
Dinosaur remains are an example to me
This beautiful planet will gladly reveal
As she shares her histories, our mysteries reveal
If we let her breathe, sigh and flourish
She may be more giving, as we help her re-nourish
And this write will be remembered for its visionary
And her mysteries will be our history
Inspired by " Stunning Revelations from Ancient Maps "
By Carolyn Devonshire
Meandering rivers, streams and burns
Zig zagging, flowing in contour turns
Sparkling waters as pure as can be
Flow through the glens and down to the seas
Much life is found in these translucent waters
Species of fish, and delightful otters
Along these rivers, streams and burns
Grow many grasses, trees and ferns
Varieties of greens in wonderment bloom
A most beautiful sight is natures front room
Her seasons dictate, the rise and the fall
The pictures she paints, delightfully enthrals
These graceful rivers, streams and burns
Lured us to settle, for beside the seas we yearned
Villages turned into towns, and towns into cities
For the lure of these waters, some murky some pretty
For all around the world, the patterns the same
These are just a few, the Thames, Ness and the Seine
Look after all waters as they are all our concern
Our meandering rivers, streams and burns
" My entry into Brian's contest Flow, River, Flow "
The tragedy of a Miracle started today
Our Lord's brutalized body passed away
Of all the tragedies in the history of man
This is one I try to grasp, but never can
For some reason I find it impossible to see
We crucified the greatest man in our history
Through all of the gain and all of the loss
It was a predestined coin man had to toss
I wonder how Pilot must have felt that day
He washed cowards hands in a cowardly way
Beaten and tortured, his skin ripped to shreds
As a thorny crown dug holes into Jesus' head
While nailed to the cross he had one final goal
Through the mercy of love he saved another soul
He saved that soul and then our Lord Jesus died
Can you imagine the countless tears that were cried?
As we all know Jesus' body was placed into a tomb
To my minds eye it was no less than a spiritual womb
And from inside that womb salvation was born
For the tomb was found empty come Sunday morn
This is not how the story ends it is only how it starts
The Lord now lives up inside each one of our hearts
Even those lost in Prison, the ones like I used to be
Can turn to the Lord and then they will be set free
Freedom is a thing that I think we all strive to find
It is etched in our heart and engraved in our mind
I was locked up in a cell nestled tightly away
Facing several years that I would have to pay
Up inside of that cell I made my own decree
A true miracle was taking place inside of me
I was a very evil man and I was so proud to show it
In the wink of an eye I was transformed into a Poet
I learned there is only one way to truly be free
Ask of the Lord, " Jesus please come unto me"
And just as the Lord Jesus Christ rose up out of his tomb
We can all live with-in the comfort of his spiritual womb
papa said
son what you going to do
with your life
now that you have
no money job
or wife
he said papa
I'm going to
leave this town
think I'll
join up with the rodeo
and break them bulls down
Maybe even rope
me a stallion or
even a clown
Son you better
take another
look around
for theres no money
for bull riders
thrown to the ground
or being stepped on
by a horse or bull
weighing over eight hundred pounds
Papa I promise
Ill make you proud
of your rodeo cowboy when I'm done
And promise
not to be thrown or bucked off
to the ground
So papa please come
visit when our show's
in town
for I'll be
the one riding high on
the biggest bull that's found
hanging on for just
eight seconds while I'm
listening for that bells sound
just kicking those sides
of horses and bulls
jumping up and down
with coming out your
top rodeo champion and
bull rider found
Tribute To
The Rodeo Cowboys
and Cowgirls
Hang Tough
Highlander so tall,
Dwarfs warriors in battle;
Brave heart of Scotland.
I've had enough
Yes enough of your childish games
I've had enough
Of your lies.and disappointments
I've had enough
Of headaches,and worries
I've had enough
Of your disrespect
I've had enough
Of heartaches,and pains
I've had enough
Of wondering if and when you're coming home
I've had enough
Of planning a future that has no hope
I've had enough
Of waking up and finding myself alone
I've had enough
Of wishing you'll change for the better
I've had enough
Of talking,and you're not listening
I've had enough
Of dreaming this dream all alone
I've had enough
Of being the only one trying to make things work
I've had enough
Of treating you like a prince,king,or queen
then in return you treat me like I'm nothing
I've had enough
Of you're not taking me seriously
I've had enough
And I'm sick,and tied of all the drama
I've had enough
Of you falsely accusing me
I've had enough
And I can make it by myself
from his abc's
to that freaky billy jean
came a pop star
for all to love and see
from the apollo's stage
wondered if you were ready for screaming rage
for you never had a childhood of bliss
only done what was on joseph's list
a studded white glove
and white socks just because
a star on the hollywood walk of fame
for you sang and danced showing no shame
scandals of twisted truth
did not detour you from your missing youth
neverland was your own safari escape
who would figure your best friend would be a chimp of faith
michael may god cradle you in his arms
and basked in your king of pops worldly charm
will forever miss that porcelain smile
and always think of you on my radio dial
for now your at your heavens trial
may god forgive this lost and lonely child
In Loving Memory Of
Michael Joseph Jackson
Aug 29th 1958 - June 25th 2009
Proud fathers and relatives of the past.
Ghost's of thoose first Irish americans.
Eventhough the ignorant tried to kill us
still we did last.
Using are fists and breaking are backs.
from New York to Boston.
Green blood dries in the tracks.
Beautiful Island of green we left yet still
within are souls you stay.
From Belfast to Dublin In croweded streets
were children play.
Some call us paddy the brave few dare say mic.
Hate filled people casting stones
at the weak and sick.
As we viewed a new promise we
were met with a black eye.
But from the church to the pud.
The Irish were to strong to die.
And for all thoose who fought so I my
may talk to you from this stool I sit.
I promise you children of Eran .
I shall never quit.
So may the people dance and sing while the whiskey
does flow.
Let the young carry the torch
so all may know.
from shamrocks to St Patricks day.
Weve come to far.
So we shall never go away.
He was the bard from Stratford, and as a teenager
he helped his father in his trade; he married and had children
and became the most popular and admired play writer
in all England...acting was also his other pleasurable passion.
Curious Queen Elisabeth was one of the thousand spectators,
who came to see him in the Globe theater...she shed tears,
and was stunned by the performance of his timeless plays,
and yet, some of his fellow-poets criticized him for his writings!
I wish I had lived in that Victorian era so intellectual and refined,
and had met him in person and had showed him my ample admiration;
I would have asked him the secret, which made him so legendary and loved...
and he would have whispered it to me, to make me revel in that revelation!
I have read his inspiring works, and tragedies rampantly occur
from " Romeo and Juliet"...the Verona's immortal lovers, through" Hamlet "
whose insanity was undoubtedly caused by the specter of his father;
and why didn't Shakespeare choose less dramatic plays not ending in death?
He wanted to teach us indelible lessons to show us how the human spirit
can be passionate, adamant, loveless, envious, cruel, unfair and treacherous...
to outline all kinds of guilt: from murder to envy so well-expressed with eloquence;
it's no mystery to anyone how he conjured up such plots with grief, madness and wit!
Shakespeare was no ordinary kid, and he played with his siblings on Henley Street,
neighbors saw him trot to his grammar school, later he would make everyone weep;
early in adolescence, did his prodigious mind envision one from a vague thought?
It's no wonder that he is widely read even today...hear his speak, he'll impart worth!
Entered in Amy Green's contest, " Wow Me With Inspiration "
Lord, I believe in You and myself,
With You I can do almost anything.
Even if I'm overweight...
I believe You'll keep me alive until the day
You want me back home with you.
I'm sorry for my sins
And all of us are imperfect humans:
Debating about beliefs, greedy thieves,
And everything else you hate.
So please forgive all of us and open the gate
To Your Heavenly Kingdom.
Have Your Son save us all.
Sometimes I believe I don't deserve You
And Your Promise for Eternity,
But Your Son's words reassure me.
I feel scared of the destruction in Your Revelation,
But remember You'll keep me safe
If I just forever keep my faith.
Happy Valentine my love
First I want to say you're often thought of.
Then I must say you mean all the world to me
And to my heart you have the master key.
I love you more than words can say
Which is in a very special way.
You're my closest,and dearest friend
What we have is forever lasting,and has no end.
Our love is divine,genuine,and very rare
No other can compare
To this tender love we share
That's why we're such a unique pair.
Rebuilding America
My little Jenny and me
Remembering a time
When Laurel And Hardy
Brought such classics to T.V
My Jenny asked mom can you see me
Just cruising home in a big jelopy
With my Feathered Friend Buddy
Perched on my shoulder and you Yelling
Smile Your On Candid Camera
That had to be such a Jungle Fever back then
Think I liked it better When you used to sing to me
That I'm A Big Girl Now
Just Putzing Around here
with my last 10 poems
But Love to watch
Old Classic comedies on T.V. with Jenny
And Trying To explain to her about Cinema
Africa, beautiful continent
Dreamy echoes fascinate
Giraffes heighten inclines
Jurassic known linger
Madagascar nestles offshore
Primates quest reform
Savannah tribes umbilical
Visioned waves x-ray
Young zebra
Rustic mountains
Through glaciations
Moulded this wonderful
Scottish Nation
Caledonian Forests
Covered our land
On our Western Islands
Golden beached sands
Glens and rivers
Cris cross our land
Glorious moors
Where the Highland Stag stands
Majestic and tall
Proud and might
This king of beasts
The most wonderful sight
Scenery to thrill
Heather-ed in purpled bloom
Look out any window
Its our own front room
Golden Eagles
Soar above these lands
Winged royalty
In their blue blooded strand
Our contribution to our modern world
Is all around us, read and learn
Logie Baird, with Television
Pedal Cycle, Kirkpatrick MacMillan
Medical marvel, Penicillin
In other Nations our touch has felt
Our Ancestors us, we Celts
For centuries we cast our nets
To further lands
We were always met
Friendly Scots in every way
Gave this world
A better say
America, Canada, New Zealand too
Us Scots are in me and you
Ancestral blood runs through our veins
The quite wonderful Scottish strain
Arising, splits the purple nuclear sky,
Rends the dark valleys with light,
Spills along footpaths and alleys,
The glory of morning, ending of night.
In sanction, closing of the chaos,
Soothes the hot valves with dragon-heart balm,
Beams with serenity and salves,
In silvery moonlight, infinite calm.
Above, my ascendant sun and moon,
Arc-light searing and platinum white,
Adoration eternal and endearing,
My wondrous morning, my glorious sight.
The land of my fathers lays waiting,
Dispelling the lonely, the welcoming fields,
Whether industry savaged or verdant,
The hillsides of poets, their treasure she yields.
(special thanks to a friend who shared this tribute to Solomon Mahlangu)
Solomon Mahlangu: My Blood will Nourish the Tree that will Bear the Fruits of Freedom:
Solomon Mahlangu was trained as an MK soldier with a view to later rejoining the struggle in the country.
He left South Africa after the Soweto Uprising of 1976 when he was 19 years old, and was later chosen to be part of an elite force to return to South Africa to carry out a mission commemorating the June 16th 1976 Soweto student uprising.
After entering South Africa through Swaziland and meeting his fellow comrades in Duduza, on the East Rand (east of Johannesburg), they were accosted by the police in Goch Street in Johannesburg.
In the ensuing gun battle two civilians were killed and two were injured, and Mahlangu and Motloung were captured while acting as decoys so that the other comrade could go and report to the MK leadership.
Motloung was brutally assaulted by the police to a point that he suffered brain damage and was unfit to stand trial, resulting in Mahlangu facing trial alone.
He was charged with two counts of murder and several charges under the Terrorism Act, to which he pleaded not guilty.
Though the judge accepted that Motloung was responsible for the killings, common purpose was argued and Mahlangu was found guilty on two counts of murder and other charges under the Terrorism Act.
On 15 June 1978 Solomon Mahlangu was refused leave to appeal his sentence by the Rand Supreme Court, and on 24 July 1978 he was refused again in the Bloemfontein Appeal Court.
Although various governments, the United Nations, International Organizations, groups and prominent individuals attempted to intercede on his behalf, Mahlangu awaited his execution in Pretoria Central Prison, and was hanged on 6 April 1979.
His hanging provoked international protest and condemnation of South Africa and Apartheid.
In fear of crowd reaction at the funeral the police decided to bury Mahlangu in Atteridgeville in Pretoria.
On 6 April 1993 he was re-interred at the Mamelodi Cemetery, where a plaque states his last words:
'My blood will nourish the tree that will bear the fruits of freedom.
Tell my people that I love them.
They must continue the fight.'
Mahlangu died for a cause!
The Struggle Continues…
(special thanks to a friend who shared this tribute to Solomon Mahlangu)
The world spins kaleidoscopic, a whorl of color in revolt.
Oceans quake malleable, molding into fissures of tectonic hunger,
ravaging the deep, stirring the primal need depressing
populations' unseen to the denizens of land, disregarded in man's wake.
From the diatom, to the whale, from the single cell to the open hand
from the sun, to the stars, to the mushroom bomb, we've light.
Within the orb of eye, retinal flares of light,
an inside-out, upside-down, yin and yang revolution
juxtaposing wealth with poverty, as throngs rise asking for hand
outs, aching with a human need to know, hungering.
Childhood has ended, the tell-tale snake does wake.
Death's rattle will subside, as the head eats the tail of depression.
Communication will become the global antidepressant.
Natives in aboriginal huts and Inuit in igloos will see the light.
There will be no holding back the tide for hand in hand, each cell wakes.
No longer can knowledge be withheld. "Phone home," a revolutionary
cry, the tit will not be ripped from the lips of hungering
humanity, the tyrant and the saint juxtaposed, their time at hand.
Instant communication, shall scrape the barnacles of blight handily.
The stroke of finger tip to key shall depress
and ignorance will flee, freeing the hungry
for the way out ,the way up, the key, light-heartedly
heads bowed in prayer, we shall revolt.
Let tyranny be eaten, and righteousness wake.
On the egg of earth, we float in celestial wakes.
Solar tides stir the shards of glass raising death's hand.
Round and round the top spins each revolution
forced by the pumping thump of rods depressed
rods magnetized and charged with lightening
for we all hunger.
Each evolution a revolution, each thirst quenched brings new hunger.
Repression will never depress the desire to wake,
nor, will the fisted hand ever bring the light.
Only light can penetrate the
that resides in the default state
of mind
I descend from beta to delta
binaural beats; instantly caught
between frequencies beyond
I absorb amplitudes of acoustic
and I learn to just be earth
Since I am the earth
and because I am of
the one that is the source of its
I've owned the power of
I realize now that I AM because
HE is since I am from that, a
Created in the image of a
and a feeling from the
Universal Mind
I tune in to this vibration from
pulse that manipulates
subconscious minds
Immersed between 4 and 7
brainwaves halt to a conscious
All chakras are aligned shining
crown energy
and now my consciousness
begins to reap!
and light begins to penetrate
the harmonious beams
that were already there
constant and always there
is now flooded with sound
that force brainwaves to submit
to power
of omnipresent sound that
always was
and always will be connected to
the Source from which I came
so I extend exponentially
physical time and space
I long to embrace the intensity
of gamma rays
I give way to the coded sounds
that resonate from the inner
and continue to connect
through the binaural beats that
remind me of before
Always familiar but ignored
until found by gaining
knowledge of self
I listen with the intent to excel
while reaping an abundance of
benefits and rewards
It's already yours
Just reach out and grab it
as long as intention and ego is
the universe will correspond
it will deliver a life to you divine
and orderly
Just listen to the sounds that
were there from before
They will guide to to the
vibration from the core
and it will guide you to connect
directly with the source
I love to stay involed with my community.One of the ways I do that is by playing
sports. Playing sports is a great way to meet new people. It's fun because when I
go to some of the other high schools I see people from our old teams who you
are playing against now. Everyone involved in sports here at Mercy High is
encouraging and supporting. The sports I am involved in are cross country,
basketball, and soccer.
One of the sports I do is cross country. This is the first year I have
ever done cross country. It has been extremely fun being on the cross country
team because all the girls on the team are super nice. During every race they will
be there cheering me on, even if I am the last one too cross the finish line. I think
that running can be boring, but my parents, coaches and other runners always
encourage me. The main reason I am doing cross country though is to stay in
shape for basketball.
My favorite sport is basketball, which I play in the winter. I have been
playing basketball ever since I was a second grader. Basketball is my favorite
sport because I love the way the game is constructed.. Basketball is a team
sport. You could be the best player in the world but have awful teammates which
could results in a loss.
During the Spring I play soccer. Just like basketball, soccer is a team
sport. You need to be able to communicate with the other players. I have been
playing soccer almost my whole life. Soccer is a great sport for anyone to play
because when you are younger the soccer ball and fields are all smaller. Some
sports are to hard to play when you are young because you don't have the
We salute every soldier who's
served this great nation.
And offer a heart of thanks
and appreciation!
We salute each member
of our armed forces.
And are thankful for their
efforts and resources!
We salute the many who
protect our borders too.
We'd be in trouble…
If not for people like YOU!
We salute every son and
daughter lost in a war.
YOU are what serving this
country is meant for!
We salute the officers who've
guided our women and men.
Our prayers are with you!
And our love from within!
We salute our veterans!
Wherever they may be!
Those who served on
land, air and sea!
Offering prayer to the
Lord is our belief…
That he will guide our
As we observe
Memorial Day this year…
Let's offer our soldiers
love, hope and cheer…
May God bless them in
all they endeavor
And his peace be with them
today and forever!!
By Jim Pemberton
They were Meriwether Lewis and William Clark,
Her name was Sacagawea.
On an expedition they did embark
Finding the passage to the sea.
Down the Missouri they traveled,
Then slithered 'round the Snake River bend.
Rocky Mountain weather and sickness battled;
At the Columbia River they'd end.
©2013 Honestly JT
**The QUEEN is in the HOUSE**
Queen Elizabeth II
A super hero coin legend,
I wonder who's kissing a$$ during an open Parliament.
London should have a law called "THE PAPARAZZI PUNISHMENT."
**GANDHI the GURU**
The inspirational force vigilante,
Ignited some wisdom in today's philosophy.
He should have won a hunger trophy.
**RONALD REAGAN meets RONALD McDonald's**
Ronald Reagan,
White House celebration,
A man of bravery and stronghold,
I wonder if heaven has a McDonald?
**BILL CLINTON MAN of THE YEAR**
Bill Clinton,
Made presidency lots of fun,
Why did Monica ruin it for him?
Did Hillary, really forgive him?
**CLEOPATRA the GREAT**
All she had to say was abracadabra,
Do you think we would reinvent her story?
If Viagra was invented back in history?
more to come...
Long ago, one Christmas morn, in a stable a child was born
Innocent, helpless and small
How could we believe He'd someday die to save us all?
On His mother He depended for his every need
How then could we imagine it would be by His blood alone that we'd be freed?
Growing up in a time and place so different from Heaven above
Living and dying here on Earth, what a symbol of His love.
To the cross He lovingly went
Knowing it was for our sins alone that He had been sent
Dragging His cross up to that hill where men were condemned to die
Jesus, our Savior suffered the fate while we were all passed by.
"King of the Jews," that's what the sign had read.
Hanging just above His thorn crowned head.
Blood spilled from nail driven hands and feet
As Christ suffered a death most bitter and sweet.
The pain and agony He lovingly endured
To give us the gift of salvation, most blessedly assured.
He never counted the cost of a price that was oh so high
Giving up His last breath so we may never have to die.
Today He walks amongst us, having conquered the grave.
Loving, hoping and waiting for us to accept the gift that He gave
When on that day so long ago He died in our place
Proving the power of God's most amazing grace.
So this Christmas morning before you race for the tree
Take a moment to thank God for Jesus, for the gift of life eternally.
But don't stop there, unwrap that gift of salvation today
What better way is there to tell Jesus………Happy Birthday?!
A Pharisee was fair you see,
Because with the resurrection they understood.
But the Sadducees were called "sad-u-see",
Because they did not believe that the teaching of
The resurrection was any good.
Both groups were very pompous you see,
And thought they were better than everyone else on the scene.
And even when Jesus Himself showed up at the grounds,
It made them more vindictive and more mean.
Several times they tried to trap Jesus,
As in the case with the adulteress lady.
But Jesus once again had to put them in check,
For His reaction was what they were watching;
Of which He made them look very shady.
Another time they were upset,
Because they healed on the Sabbath, someone.
Instead of being happy for the person that was healed,
They were upset amongst each other, everyone.
Today we have people like those just the same,
"Uppity" and you can't say anything to them.
Thinking their too good to be with CERTAIN people,
Forgetting they are to love all people at all times;
But making some individuals feel very dim.
"Clubbing" or "Club-Hopping" on Saturday night,
Going to hear the Word every Sunday.
But smoking and speaking sadistic words,
As if it were something like a Monday.
Jesus told the Laodicean church,
That He would literally out of His own mouth spit them.
Because they were neither cold not hot,
They are what we call being "LUKEWARM"
There is a difference between,
Living in and committing a sin.
The first is a lifestyle one chooses to live,
While the other is a mistake one makes but not purposely therein.
So will you be a modern day Pharisee or Sadducee,
Or will you be a worshipper with sincerity?
Will you have a sarcastic or sadistic spirit,
Or be with your father in hell for eternity.
My Sarah
When I looked at you last week trying on your new boots
Those almond eyes sparkling at something new, a gift
I saw my little pink girl, a princess, playing dress up again
Your long hair draped your high cheekbones
Life still a game, tinged with drama and theatre
As you look for fun in all your pursuits!
A player in life with a passion for cooking and music
You have become a kind, loyal, vivacious young woman
Self assured, grounded with a love of tradition
I looked at you and felt an overwhelming pride.
Sunday's child is ' bonny, blithe, good and gay' they say
Befitting my Sabbath girl, a model child of few demands
Your bedroom a vast sea of Barbie and friends
A Passion for story-time and books
Your Dutch life with Irish sea-touched roots,
You are a real continental
A great scholar with degrees in Law and Psychoanalysis
You have found your true love with Luis, a Spaniard
As you both prepare to leave the Emerald Isle
I wonder at the achievement of you!
Black as the night sky.
We are born in true beauty .
We are Africa.
Catawba Joe, a full blooded Crow, married a cute as a button little Eskimo.
She bore him a son who had twelve toes and an elongated nose.
They named their little bouncing bundle of joy Curly Joe Twelve Toes.
After Curly Joe grew up he fought alongside Davy Crockett at the Alamo.
A Mexican shot off Curly Joe's elongated nose, so Twelve Toes was no mo'.
The Afro-Americans amongst the brave sons of liberty said: "rest in peace bro".
They stand tall like a monument, the wayfarer's journey guide
Rough stones shaped into human form, the meaning to unhide,
Inuits first carefully piled these stones, the meaning becomes clear,
Traditionally "you are on the right path" or "someone was here".
These unworked stones were used for survival and a method to communicate,
Mountain passages or an open channel, the stone placement was your fate.
A cache of food was near an Inukshuk without arms or one with anthers attached,
For the lost hunter in the Arctic, their beckoning and comfort was unmatched.
These rocks are used for navigation, the right direction to select,
They can also signify a memorial, a quiet place of respect,
Or mark where the spirits abide or where the fish can be found,
Think- the amount of information provided, without uttering a sound.
Winter 2010, in Vancouver, it became the official Olympic mascot,
"In the likeness of a human" is the modern meaning, now it's thought.
I am no expert on these stones but driving northward, I keep a watchful look,
And respect the stone monument there to welcome you, the Inuit Inukshuk
Written July 30, 2011
For "Stoned Contest"
Sponsor Catie Lindsey
There's an antique red barn
Sits atop the hill
And a small little pond
Chock full of blue-gill
There's old rusty cars
Which haven't ran in years
And a hundred year old house
Once manufactured by Sears
It's loaded full of memories
It's filled with lots of charm
It's a place I know and Love
It's all there...On Grandma's Farm
Used to go there every Sunday
From as far back as I can remember
Sledding down the hill
In the snow come December
I Loved it out at Grandmas
Playing with toy tractors in the sand
Going to help split wood
Just to lend a helping hand
I Loved it winter, spring and summer
But my favorite time of all
Was when the leaves all turned
The wonderful colors of fall
I was carefree and happy
The world was free from harm
Way back when I was a kid
Out On My Grandma's Farm
© 2011 Kevin Stock
Contractual agreements with publisher caused DELETION
I Pledge Allegiance
a solemn vow of obedience, from the earliest age of grievance,
when found deliverance, one people, united against tyranny and intolerance,
become the model of democracy and toleration
To The Flag
the symbol of once colonization come together in celebration,
a new unconquerable nation, a successful castration,
of oppression and dictation
Of The United States Of America
a conglomeration of peoples form one nation,
13 colonies a single relation, one voice, one oration,
tread on me, expect retaliation
And To The Republic
a democracy, its creation, the Constitution, its foundation,
agreeable to all in origination, fiercely guarded against demolition,
militarization, and impregnation, over all these years, still on station
For Which It Stands
the protector of all oppressed lands, the world over she lends a hand,
her signature, her blood, in foreign sand
One Nation
from sea to sea, whether rich or poor, some vocal, others, chose to ignore,
those who guard the shore, those who knock on heavens door,
one nation, esprit de corps
Under God
in a time when belief was strong, today, should not be wrong,
having been with us so very long, a few may sing a different song,
most will believe, as they have, all along
one, as a whole number, cannot be divided by any other,
many have tried under guise of brother, only to be denied by the mother
With Liberty And Justice For All
the means to end all oppression, infinitely wrong with transgression,
succession, regression, and repression along
Our Pledge of Allegiance
a pledge of a nation, a history profound, one indivisible number,
all it takes, to be no longer allowed
In the near future, I am going to add it all up into one big sum.
In the meantime, I am going to gather and collect my own space.
I will sift through seeds or weeds and present an enormous case.
But for sure I will hold onto every single yellow chrysanthemum.
In the near future, I am going to roll it all up sealing it by my thumb.
In the meantime, I am going to sit here with every turned about face.
I will drift through time rewinding the hands back to a God of Grace.
But for sure I will give the world a place my heart is triumphing from.
Quickly, I will come to you,
And instantly I will be gone.
But injustice shall never do.
Nor shall a lie be my spawn.
Or at the least not on my expedient silver polished dime,
And certainly not while sitting on destiny's perch in time!
® Registered: Ann Rich 2009
Watch this scene with both eyes and try not to blink C: -->
I stood there... silently
Like a predator near prey
I sneak behind YOU
You weren't even aware of it!! Ha-ha!
I made YOU jump hIgH
Like a startled hare
I chuckle and smile
You know that mischievous smile of mine?
Your reaction was
PRICELESS - you were so upset
But YOU forgave me
Well...I'm flattered. . .
We laugh'd together (just like the good times)
In a chorus - our volume
Picked up extreme sound
Believe me - I could hear our laughter from a mile away!
But I'm glad I did
My best to make you giggle
Ridiculous me...
Wouldn't you agree?
My main man Michael
Where you're is where you're, J
Keep shining like stars
© Joseph Spence, Sr., 6/28/09
© All Rights Reserved
Joseph S. Spence, Sr., is the author of "The Awakened One Poetics" (2009), which is
published in seven different languages. He invented the Epulaeryu poetry form, which
focuses on succulent cuisines and drinks. He is published in various forums, including the
World Haiku Association; Poetinis Druskininku, Milwaukee Area College, Phoenix Magazine;
Möbius Poetry, and Taj Mahal Review to name a few. Joseph is a Goodwill Ambassador for
the state of Arkansas, USA, a college faculty, and a military veteran.
Literature was pursued
by the greatest individuals who ever lived,
and they left us works of unsurpassable wisdom;
human emotions have always been the same,
and this can't attest to the fact that they will not change anytime soon,
but the freer we are, the further we go up in our balloon.
The richest heritage of Humankind
is found in the written word, which is heard often and not really understood;
where would we be today without the plays and sonnets of Shakespeare that were quite sad,
or Dante's famous canto, not excluding superb works by modern writers?...
During the dark ages, monks translated books from Greek and Latin into common languages;
as the barbarians destroyed everything found in their path, civilization did not end.
Tragedies of famous people attracted the lucrative minds of poets who had heard of them,
thus embellishing them with their vivid imagination and present actual facts...I follow in
their poetic footsteps, writing down stories that have recently happened, or occurred
before I was born; and with ideas as interesting as theirs, I continue in that tradition
without envying their unaging expressions and distinguished style, but by aggrandizing them.
Literature has finally found its merited place in History, unlikely a hundred years ago,
more people are voraciously reading, and keeping the writers busy by admiring
their sensational works, making comments of encouragement to boost up their optimism;
and to theaters they go and spent an entire night to listen to drama and satire...to scoff,
laugh, or cry when emotions intensify by the sconces of the electric lights; and cheering,
they applaud the richest heritage of Humankind on stage, and are captivated by its scenario.
Copyright 2009 by Andrew Crisci
Land of the free
Home of the slaves
The blood, sweat and tears of my ancestors resonate
Amongst the soil where they were slain
I'm hearing their struggle
I'm feeling their pain
I can't imagine being forced to part from my family
All for massa's gain
So I pay homage to those who promoted change
People like every slave who tried to escape
Nat Turner, Ms Carlotta, Harriet Tubman
And the safe houses who were in accord
And peg leg Joe with his song
Follow the drinking gourd.
People like, the disregarded - those thrown overboard
And who was dismissed and defamed
The ones who were stripped of their soul, their pride, their names
The list could go on
The full will never be told
So I pay homage to others who were bold
Like John Brown, The Freedom Riders, Sojourner Truth
Ida B Wells, Phyllis Wheatley, Maya Angelou,
Langston Hughes and Charles Drew
George Washington Carver, Ruby Bridges
Booker T Washington and Mary McCleod Bethune
Charles Houston, Ralph Bunche, Fredrick Douglass
WEB Dubois, Paul Robeson, Ralph Abernathy
Benjamin Banneker, Marcus Garvey and Crispus Attucks
Who's death by the way
Symbolized the American lie
You cant declare the rights of all men
While the people of African decent rights get denied
But still we rise
Thanks to Dr Martin Luther King, Malcolm X,
The Black Panthers, the Buffalo Soldiers and Tuskegee Airmen
None who were showed any love
Yeah it's an uphill battle,
But obviously greatness can be done.
We can rise above this stigma
That blacks are lazy and daunting
That our worth is null and void
And in essence minus nothing
And of all the names mentioned
And the greatness of their successes
No one has been able to erase the evil transgressions of a racist mind
And once you have experienced just a taste of it
It changes your perception of time
The oppression beats like the drum on the chariot
Of when it was finally time to escape to freedom
It's mine
Our Country's Soul Is Being "Torn Apart"
The very soul of America is being "torn apart."
It's a problem that's striking at our very heart.
There's a "blowing wind." A "time for change."
As the country's moral fabric is being "rearranged."
As many question what the true meaning of life is for…
Many don't seem to know what's wrong or right anymore!
As so much pornography is allowed into our homes…
The moral decay is "eating" right at "the bones."
Many have a hard time "defining what marriage is."
So many are really "messed up" in how they live!
The news seems to be "fascinated" by man's depravity…
Leaving a huge vacuum of a monstrous "moral cavity."
Many who attend church want what's
"soothing to their ears."
A God of holiness and righteousness
is what they "fear!"
As we look around as to what our society is becoming…
God's judgement is soon! It is surely coming!
We must come back and leave all of our "false idols!"
We must come back to the God of the Bible!
Jesus must be our cord of love the forever binds!
It's only in him can we find true love for our minds!
It's only in Jesus that we can find a purpose and meaning!
It's only in him that we need to put our
trust and start believing!
He is and always will be the right choice to be taken…
Without him, our country's is "doomed and forsaken."
He brings healing and righteousness
"beneath his wings…
He is what we truly need!
He is our EVERYTHING!
By Jim Pemberton
We will not ride alone on this momentous journey.
We will ride gathering our numbers, from the great mountains.
We will travel to the valley of rivers, towards the great ocean.
For we have a great army.
Those who enslaved us with their power, stand on the top of the hill.
They stare down over the army below.
An army of vengeance we have gathered.
We will ride to the battle field at the great buildings.
Our intent is to wage war.
Fear will not take us.
You are weak supremacy, you will die by the sword.
You will die by the hand of my fellow warriors.
This is war.
Blood will be spilt.
Men will draw their last breaths as they fall back onto mother earth.
Mother Earth will soak up the spilled blood of our brothers and sisters.
We will be fierce and haste not.
We the suppressed will not retreat.
We the people will rise, with swords and fists.
We are ready to die for what is equitably ours.
This is not an illusion.
The fight against the money mongers, the powers that be.
Those that hold the power, will feel our angry wrath.
None will go unscathed.
We will watch the blood spill in and about the great buildings.
Down the concrete stairs it will flow, rich, deep cherry red.
Into the green of the grass, it flows.
Fear will choke your breath.
Reflections of your past, rushing before you.
Thoughts of the dead, invade your mind.
Hollow is the cry of war, as we charge ahead to fight the battle.
To take the final stand, to give it our all.
Justice will reign by the sword and the all mighty hand.
Judgement day has arrived with this great army gathered beside us.
We will ride, steadfast into the fray.
Make no mistake this day will come upon the powers that be.
Before we were thought of or time had started,
God put US in His Son's name..
And each time we pray, you'll see its true,
You can't spell Jesus without including US.
Were a pretty big part of His wonderful name,
For US, He was born;
And His great love for US is the reason He died.
Isn't it thrilling and splendidly grand
He rose from the dead, with US in His plan?
The stones split away, the gold trumpet blew, egospelexpress
And His resurrection was for US.
As JesUS left the earth with His wonderful ascension,
When He felt there was one thing He just had to mention.
"Go into the world and tell them it's true
that I love them all - Just like I love you."
So many people are Christian brothers and sisters,
Don't all the others have a right to know JesUS too?
It all depends on what we do,
He'd like them all to know,
But it all starts with US.
Rev. Samuel Mack, OMS
Copyright 2011
VISIT US AT; http:paladinnews1.blogspot.com
someone always told me this with tears in her eyes...
(for Lata Sethi's late-mother, who was my mother's 'sister' and who took us all into her heart, and for Lata and Ravi Sethi of Defence Colony, New Delhi)
a wife left South Africa in the 1960's to join her husband
who was in exile at the time...
in 1970 the husband was sent by the African National Congress to India to be its representative there...
the husband and wife spent two years in Bombay...
one afternoon the husband fell and broke his leg...
the wife knocked on their neighbour's door, in an apartment complex in Bombay
the neighbour was an old Punjabi lady...
the wife asked the neighbour for a doctor to see to the injured husband...
a Parsi 'Bone-Setter' was promptly summoned...
the husband still recalls his anxiety of seeing 'Bone-Setter' written on the Parsi gentleman's bag...
by the way, the 'Bone-Setter' worked his ancient craft and surprisingly for the husband, his broken leg healed quite soon...
but still on that day, while the 'Bone-Setter' was seeing to the husband...
the wife and the old Punjabi lady from next door got to talking about this and that and where these new Indian-looking wife and husband were from as their accents were clearly not local...
the wife told the elderly Punjabi lady that the husband worked for the African National Congress of South Africa and had left to serve the ANC from exile...
and that they had left their two children behind in South Africa and that they were now essentially political refugees...
the Punjabi lady broke down and wept uncontrollably...
she told the foreign woman that she too had had to leave her home in Lahore in 1947 and flee to India with only the clothes on her back when the partition of the subcontinent took place and Pakistan was formed and at a time when Hindus from Pakistan fled to India and vice versa...
the Punjabi lady then asked the foreign woman her name...
'Zubeida', but you can call me 'Zubie'...
the Punjabi woman hugged Zubie some more, and the two women, seperated by age and geography, wept, sharing a shared pain...
the Punjabi woman told Zubie that she was her 'sister' from that day on, and that she felt that pain of exile and forced migration and what being a refugee felt like...
Zubie and her husband Mosie became the closest of friends with the Hindu Punjabi neighbours who were kicked out of Pakistan by Muslims...
then came the time for Mosie and Zubie to leave for Delhi where the African National Congress office was based...
the elderly Punjabi lady and Mosie and Zubie said their goodbyes...
a year or two later, the elderly Punjabi lady's daughter Lata married Ravi Sethi and the couple moved to Delhi...
the elderly Punjabi lady called Zubie and told her that her daughter was coming to Delhi to live and that she had told Lata, her daughter that she had a 'sister' in Delhi...
Lata and Ravi Sethi then moved to Delhi...
This was in the mid-1970's...
Lata and Zubie became the closest of friends and that bond stayed true, and stays true till today, though Zubie is no more, and the elderly Punjabi lady is no more...
the son and the husband still have a bond with Lata and Ravi Sethi...
a bond that was forged between Hindu and Muslim and between two continents across the barriers of creed and time...
a bond strong and resilient, forged by the pain and trauma of a shared experience...
and that is why, and I shall never stop believing this, that hope shines still, for with all the talk of this and of that, and of that and of this, there will always be a simple woman, somewhere, anywhere, who would take the 'other' in as a sister, a fellow human...
and that is why there will always be hope...
hope in the midst of this and of that and of that and of this...
(for Lata Sethi's late-mother, who was my mother's 'sister' and who took us all into her heart, and for Lata and Ravi Sethi of Defence Colony, New Delhi)
The wood that built the place I see
Came from a forests far away
It's age is hard to guess
But every knot knows life's quest
By the looks of it I'd say
It is pine
Can it trace it's life
Back to creation time
Was it singed by the commet
That once came to land
And was responsible for the end
Of the dinosaur clan?
Did it survive the great flood
While Noah and the animals patiently bobbed along
And Finally came to earth
With a Hallulia song
Or was it a seed that traveled along
As the ice age swept the land
And managed to plant itself
On a very distant plain
For centuries it did survive
It's young gathered round
Until that fatel day
A man with a saw, hapt to pass it's way
It's life as it had known it
Was never more
It'd been turned into a barn
For animals and chores
It's life finally met defeat
And for a century or so
Was once again subject to
The winds, the rain, the snow
When I finally found it
It was then I did know
This disheveled structure
Could heal my heart and soul
I bought it and with loving care
With every board I did share
The love and memories of my years
And blessed them all with precious tears
And now we sit and share the years
These boards of pine and me
And know that it was fate itself
That set our souls free
I, the sleeper and dreamer
Wish for your end
Is it wrong, blasphemer?
Should I break, should you bend?
I sharpen your demise on a pencil sharpener
Peeling you away….reaching your core of lead
Should I break or should you bend?
Or can't I just wish for my end?
There's knives protruding from your eyes
The eyes I know are dead
The blasphemer you are will reveal where your body lies
Beneath your core of lead
I found you among the disposables
Wishing for my end
I blasphemed you and you just gave back
My pencils burning with lead
I screamed as you pierced through me
I felt it in my soul!
But I'm to blame for this masterpiece
I sharpened you with gold!
The shavings fall upon the ground
And still this dream moves on
Pierced, I fall without a sound
Until the break of dawn
I, the sleeper and dreamer
Am still pierced to this day
So I hand the pencil sharpener to you
And pray you'll be with me
In his private parlor the king of Moab rests,
Having just retired from his more spacious quarters,
Where King Eglon had received the Israelite guests,
Bearing tribute, not a gift, but by the king's orders.
Israel's cries to God, about their being bereft,
Brought about the sending of a rescuer from the Lord.
Ehud, a man ambidexterous and lethal with his left,
Wore on his right thigh a cubit-length sword.
Ehud is sent by God to ease Israel's suffering,
And is quickly added with those bearing the treasure.
He conceals his double-edged sword with a covering
And, pretending to have an errand, asks the King's pleasure.
Eglon, a king who rules with an iron rod,
Believes Ehud's pretense of a secret task--
A special message he says is from God—
And sees Ehud in his parlor as he asks.
Eglon the king rises from his lounging,
As Ehud announces what his visit is about.
With sword in hand, Ehud is suddenly bounding
And stabbing the king until his entrails fall out.
Ehud dashes out on the porch, locking doors in back.
He dashes by idols and monuments of stone and iron,
And flees toward Mount Ephraim, following the track,
Where timely he lifts and blows the trumpet of Zion.
The Bully
27 Years ago, you showed me the door,
Because I wouldn't do what you wanted anymore.
That day was the worst of my life,
I wanted to die, to escape the strife.
All I needed was a simple letter,
To give me a chance to get better.
Now when I look back and see, you certainly did
me a favour that day.
In 1986 Thursday the first of May.
From then on people listened to what I had to say,
Doctors and Nurses went out or their way,
I got the treatment I needed at last,
Bit by bit they went over the past.
One whole year is all it took,
A lot of hard work, a little luck.
To this very day I have never been back,
26 whole years and that's a fact.
The last few years have been the best of my life,
Truly content being a Mother and Wife.
And Nanny as well,
Must not let my head swell,
A collection of poems all written by me..
My story in 7 magazines for the whole world to see.
A whole new extension to the house designed by me.
Also having to cope with the death of my mother,
Then four months later the death of my mother's sister,
God not another.
Having my kitchen demolished completely,
did put me in a fix.
But being so well, even that couldn't knock me for six.
So remember the next time someone begs you for a letter,
At least give THEM, the chance to get better.
For as long as I live I will never for get that terrible day,
Thursday 1986 the first of May,
The day that you showed me the door,
Just because I wouldn't do what you wanted anymore.
They say that time heals all pain,
I'm lucky I've learnt to live again.
Wearing her zippered jumpsuit of lime
My queen loves to survey the valley's field.
She dreams of finding a perfect place and time
She can make her dream city something real.
Megiddo was an ancient and famous city
Where starting at Solomon's gate then entering in,
Delight, pleasance and joy showed no pity,
And t'was no comfort not to be found within.
This proud city of great power and zeal--
The glory of some rare ancient engineer--
Has seen dust fly from many a chariot wheel,
When victorious kings came to holiday here.
Perhaps ancient Israel's most splendid city,
It soon captured every kingdoms' eye.
A diadem of the Jezreel Valley so pretty,
It invoked the kiss of the Assyrian sky.
Surrounded by its high double-thick stone walls,
Megiddo's palaces did lavishly and amply abide,
Containing their ornamentally furnished halls,
With towers, storehouses, and courtyards alongside.
And then there are temples—believed to be three,
With vestibules for believers to enter in.
Then of course the altar for only the holy to see,
Where doctrines are given a positive spin.
Where'er perfect foundation might lay,
My queen shall find a delightful field.
And there to be in full domain and array,
The promise of Eden most
In War
Die the Young
Man of God listend
God spoke to him tells what to do
Go east_ hide by Cherith Brook_ east where enters Jordan
Drink from brook, eat what ravens bring you,for I have told them to feed you_he did what God said
(with this there is not way to make the line of 21 syllables fit but I wanted to finish the
Dream Reflections
So drained,
I feel like a trained monkey
Who is paid to dance
I can't wait for
The chance to sleep
If it doesn't
Happen soon
Grim reaper might come
Knocking at my door
When I fall asleep
Driving home
I shall visit the moors of
Ancient fairies and
Hills of enchantment,
Once my curly head lands
On my feather pillow
I might dream of lazy days
Laying under a weeping willow tree
After taking a long dip in a cool
Stream on a hot summer day
Who knows where my
Subconscious might take me,
Good thing my
Admission will be free,
Because I don't have a
Penny on me currently
Time is ticking so swiftly
These trying days,
I must say goodbye,
Before I drift off to
Dreamland too suddenly
Where have all my people gone, the Navaho, Lakota, and the Sue.
Smothered beneath the white man blanket,
Chocking for a breath of airs life's sustaining oxygen.
The beating heart of native drums, are stilled frozen,
In the middle of it's rhythmic thumping, no pulses echo,
Can be heard on the open plain.
The weeping women kneel on sacred ground, shedding
A river of bloods tears, burning a permanent scare across,
A baron landscape.
Death's black raven shields itself, under it's crimson soaked wing,
Against shames immoral injustice.
Greed's unsatisfiable hunger for land and riches fuels lusts desire,
Behold exterminations nay holocaust of the native inhabitance,
Nothing remains alive except ignorance blackened shadow.
How much blood can mother earth be forced to drink before,
She drowns herself or spits up everything undigested,
With sheer disdain and hatreds malice intent.
On a black and white chess board the winners takes it all,
Strategies grand masters playing with living pawns.
Treaties written in vanishing ink, promises disappear in thin air,
Revealing a liars sharpened tongue.
The odds have always been stacked against those believing in fairness.
A rogue tidal wave of humanity has wiped out a nation,
And it's culture within the blink of an eye.
Flights appendages are clipped on the dove of peace, leaving it
Unable to soar above it's own habitat.
Wreckage's refugees stumble in the ruins after math,
Rapes victims of civilizations civilized,
Are left devoid of their heritages lineage and legacy.
Elders chieftains representatives of a great nation,
Smoke peace pipes in the white mans hunting lodge
In Washington.
As human beings are hauled like cattle's cargo,
Taken to reservations burial grounds.
Ancient ancestors lit up the heaven's vast expanse,
By torches flame,
To guide the souls of the dead unto their great spiritual
Plain beyond.
The pale horse gallops forward without a rider,
And the red people become a phantom tribe vanishing
Upon the winds shifting tides.
Giving one last final trible battle war cry,
Why my father but the great spirit answers not.
Behold America's legacy, a world trampled beneath
It's heavy iron fist, all in the name of progress or for the cause
Of Manifest destiny.
Deliberately inching its way toward break of day,
The morning sun begins to emblazon the barley field.
Relaxing and watching the orb find its way,
The lady of the house waits for night to yield.
Like every morning, she is seated there,
Enjoying the dew scented breeze on her veranda.
Feeling its coolness on her scalp while combing her hair,
And the warmth of the rising sun becoming grander.
Her mind wanders back to the city of her birth,
Just over the rise, beyond the barley field's treasure,
Lies the city with the most famous name on earth,
Where, in her youth, she was a lady of pleasure.
To Rachab went all of Jericho's possession,
By decree of God, for which Achan was stoned.
For this soldier could not control his obsession,
Though aware the city's riches were God's own.
With God's grace, Rachab's wisdom grew,
And she made the city's outskirts her spread.
Her land into a field of grain did accrue,
A breadbasket from which hordes were fed.
Her hires were the finest laborers in the land
And were busy harvesting barley all spring.
She paid the very best wage to every man,
Cause her crop was the best early rains could bring.
The fields and glades, that gave her pasture form,
Seemed sensuous in every contour and rise.
At daybreak, contrasting tones were the norm,
Painted artfully by the brightening skies.
Mounds appeared convexly round breasts,
Lovingly sculpted over a span of human girth,
Whose beauty was able to put the heart to a test,
As the machinery of memory rotates the earth.
Babbling brooks flowed from shady nooks,
Giving refreshment to denizens of land and sky,
Producing a scene of green worthy of picture books,
That not one skilled artist would dare deny.
Gingerly she rose the doorway torch to quench,
Watching the shrinking darkness become shadows.
Rachab calmly returns to her veranda bench,
To observe butterflies dance above the meadows.
In her dreams, she envisions a more golden age,
When royalty would be attributed to her seed.
A zephyr flows over her mind turning the page,
But she still aspires the prospect of the throne to accede.
What a lovely story to behold just beginning to dawn,
Rising out yonder, just beyond the horizon of time.
How we yearn to see that age return, now long forgone,
So our hearts may once again be joyous and sublime.
In Iran they march
"Where" they ask "is my vote gone?"
Answered by truncheon
God, Allah, they call
In His name, holy, oppress
Gods weakest children
Other news shall show
Western television screens
But we wont forget
Hundreds dead now
We only know one name, one face
A prayer for them say
The Check is in the Mail
Authored by Chuck Keys
At the beginning there was no rain,
Only the thundering noise and bright bolts of lightning.
The trees and bushes trembled with the cold winds
Pouring sheets of rain soon followed.
The stones and the ground cover cringed,
Everything echoed and shook from the hard driving forces present.
There was no place to run or hide. God
Was making his statement.
There will be no peace tonight,
Everything is in play.
Someone is in pain, searing aching ever increasing pain,
Like the agony of a toothache, thumping, pulsing, thud, thud, thud
Louder and more intense with each breadth
The body and spirit is consumed, tightly wrapped up,
Absorbed in the discomfort of now.
And it's not going away on its own.
There will be no peace tonight,
Everything is in play.
He was stolen, placed in chains,
400 years ago,
Brow beaten from the beginning, in and out
Never allowed to be his own,
Not like whites, he was property, owned and operated
But different non-white, (why are we still talking of color?)
Yet beings we all are.
There will be no peace tonight,
Everything is in play.
We cry for what was taken but can never be returned
Not wanting to be raised above or over,
Wanting not a victory, but delivered equality.
Through love and nonviolence Martin and they forged ahead,
No more waiting for the check in the mail,
But expecting the expected.
There will be no peace tonight,
Everything is in play.
The storm is here and now.
A debt of honor is due,
With the passing of time, where is restitution?
We accept love, education, pride and joy,
We can't accept the hatred of crime, violence,
The lack of housing and work,
Pain never fades on its own.
It needs attention.
God's values our values,
The one constant, never becomes vague.
Without compromise. Without compromise.
There will be no peace tonight,
Everything is in play.
The storm continues with its blinding rage,
Waiting for an answer, not patiently, but expectantly,
There will be no peace tonight in their lives as in our hearts,
Everything is in play.
Omniscient guy
Yet he lets bad things happen
How can he exist?
Weren't you the silly and stubborn young man who came to the land of the Free
and home of the Brave to work for free, starve and get no sleep? How dare you change
paradise for this?
Once the night fell you got on a tiny boat with a thousand others breaking your mother's
heart and making the toughest man on earth cry, your father.
Oh you silly young man... smart, handsome, talented, and humble of only 23 decided to
risk it all. You had it better than most back home, yet you needed more. You needed to
set foot on the land of "Once upon a time."
Days went by, weeks and maybe months, desperation came closer and the toughest
broke down, the braves returned back home to make it there as if it was meant to be like
that and the fool like you continued. Even though everything seemed to be endless, you,
I guess, you trusted God or were too blind folded by your desires that you didn't back up.
Tierra! (Land!) Was screamed in desperation as a sign of relieve. Tierra! Columbus and his
men would've been ashamed of their cry announcing that they had reached land if they
would've heard you and your companions.
OH, you silly old man, still don't own a home. Yet, feel that you have accomplished all.
Like a sleepy baby you got through the days. You made it through with hands that had a
mind of their own, fixing things, painting, and doing things that still amaze us all.
But you, you didn't come here for the home, the car of the year, or the Bling Bling but for
the future of two little girls. Foolishness, ignorance and desire taught you to be the best
man to walk the surface of the earth, to be tough, to be brave like a soldier and to stay
humble all the way!
I love you Dad.
In Japan the small is much revered,
transformed within the womb of heart and mind
to grandeur never gained by those who fear
what is unseen, unsaid, what's left behind.
A leaf, a sheaf, a treasured grief in kind
becomes a shrine the living must repair,
as is the brace of kite upon the wind
in Japan the small is much revered.
When sunk beneath the tide it disappeared
a transitory fate a watery clime.
Arise, arise, on Mother's crust appear
transformed within the womb of heart and mind.
Birth the beauteous butterfly in time,
unite the scattered children to those dear,
and each sylvan mountainside will align
to grandeur never gained by souls who fear.
Hurl all regret aside and persevere
reform what's torn, to budding new design.
The ghosts must wait attendance, must forebear
what is unseen, unsaid, what's left behind.
For each bold challenge met the world cheers
Japan is a nation where ties do bind
and the fate of all will be, well shared
the youngest to the eldest of their kind
In Japan……….
I am the face of misery
My life, a dissonance of autumn and spring,
The years are written in the same
Lugubrious, nostalgic grey
How can it be the author to blame?
I cannot scream this all away…
Burn nor Bleed this all away…
To Death I am Ordained
Lacuna ever growing
With Velvet sheets of life flowing
Aeons apart of my "royalty"
Under the mask the cannot see...
Can you dispel this tragedy:
Antigone - Epiphany failing
If it must be…
Then just kill me,
(Antigone) sing me out of reality;
I wear this dissonant crown of shame
(Antigone) Of a kingdom's disdain
I hate to be this way... normalcy's bane
(Antigone) Here comes the edict, to blame
The sordid child of Thebes,
This is me,
No words of hope
No words of hate
Do I have Lenore to send to me:
The sordid child of Thebes
Caught In the longest nightmare
life - the slowest way to die
I know this is my life
But I'm not under control
under the mask the will see
Just Another Human
If it must be…
Then just kill me,
(Antigone) sing me out of reality;
I wear this dissonant crown of shame
(Antigone) Of a kingdom's disdain
I hate to be this way... normalcy's bane
(Antigone) Here comes the edict, to blame
The sordid child of Thebes,
This is me,
If it must be…
Then just kill me,
(Antigone) sing me out of reality;
I wear this dissonant crown of shame
(Antigone) Of a kingdom's disdain
I hate to be this way... normalcy's bane
(Antigone) Here comes the edict, to blame
The sordid child of Thebes,
This is me,
Can you dispel my life; this tragedy?
Can you control the storm in my mind?
I'm asking you: can you rid me
Of The Curse of Antigone?
Underneath a gorgeous forenoon sky,
In a lush and cool garden of delight,
The green pheasant lifts his exploring eye,
Calling his all wise sage beyond his sight.
His melodious song praises the divine One,
Whose luminance descends in a beam,
Touching within the shrine bright as the sun,
Turning every thing gold as in a dream.
The Lord rests now upon His noble throne,
Calling all to climb up the stairs of stone.
There my reverie of Jesus commenced--
The glory of His office deified,
His knowledge of man's history there dispensed,
His science of the present thither described.
Wisdom of the future was His display,
Myself humbled to receive His cachet.
Five years of learning was spent at this shrine--
Proving command of as many disciplines--
Crossing the bridge from human to Divine,
His acute knowledge of miracles begins.
Then writing for His testimonial,
Also history that brightens the wise,
With focus on the rites ceremonial,
And how theocracy does authorize.
Divine authority added to His reign,
With the King's seal He departs the domain.
Far beneath fathom's kept, where the dead men,
Dare not speak of forgotten kingdom's hidden deep,
Under waves chilling currents, in the aquatic blues,
Burial zone.
Behind seaweeds thickened greenery, and corals
Reefs decorative stealth.
An ancient mystery's truth lies undiscovered,
Pull back times curtain reveal a world turned up,
Side down.
Once a utopian society lived, bathed in the
Warmth of the sun.
Shinning by brilliance light aglow in
Architectural marvel.
Civilization's corner stone, etched with
Diversity's trade mark.
Idealism in perfection orderly form,
Pictured framed amongst ,
Legend's greatest mysteries left unsolved,
Yet it intrigues us.
A vast landscape spanning the horizon,
Wealth's golden city.
Built brick by brick on sheer strength,
Of will power and intelligence intellect.
A crown jewel of the ancient world but,
It's existence has tarnished with age,
Entering the realm of long ago,
Mythological legendary myth.
But fortune's favor draws fates attention,
Leaving unto follies end result greed's lust,
Deception's cruelty, and slavery's injustice.
The god's have little mercy for humanity's,
Sinister darker side,
And cast a titan's krackan to sly the
Wickedness there in.
Destruction landfall hit Atlantis head on,
An eerie twilight's hour destiny's four winds,
Did scream why have you forsaken,
Your children thus so.
No wraith's compassion could eliminate,
Sorrows heavy burden to bare.
A nation, a continent wiped from the face
Of the earth, without leaving a trace vaporized,
In a instant.
Storytellers epically write words, telling of
Legacy's lost paradise.
It's valuable theology speaks volumes knowledge,
Of lessons to be learned so not as to,
Be repeated again.
In the devil triangle may it rest in peaceful slumbers,
Dreaming state.
Until history's reawakening calls it name once more.
Men of cloth
Men of faith
Against all evils, lost hopes
Choose the light and will of the gods
They stay
Where all others flea
They reflect upon lost causes
Yet give of heart and sweat to the poor
They are not brave hearts
They are but kind souls
To the last breathe
Weep not for these heroes
The village adores and praises
For kindness transcends religious teachings
To cure and heal is god's gift
And natures way of life eternal
Pascal's wager in the minds of a few
As old men contemplate
Wildflowers who by the grace of god, receive the sun
So in fate, planted, they stay, they do not run
They are not the last or only
They are but the hope of what can be
They reflect the goodness we all desire
In love of mankind
Des hommes et des dieux, dedicated to the Trappist monks who lived in harmony with the largely Muslim population of Algeria, until seven of them were kidnapped and assassinated in 1996 during the Algerian Civil War.
Where Lud gave wing, Blessed Bran doth sing
true oracle the visions bring,
from midnight's land, bear burning brand
the Queens of old, gift Druid hand.
Shadow depth seek, sharp sable beak,
pierce psyche veils when prophets speak,
messenger calls through ancient halls
where Raven reigns the Tower walls.
Fey healer fly, the night-world sky
initiate Ovates nigh,
beckoning deep, iconic keep,
hark Raven calls to dreamless sleep.
Where Lud gave wing Blessed Bran doth sing
true oracle the visions bring,
from midnight's land, bear burning brand
the Queens of old gift Druid hand,
the Queens of old gift Druid hand.
Beware young lad, tis the dawning of thy demise,
For the water witches screams, are carried on the
Winds breath, of the tidal waves hurricane.
Be-she, the banshie of the fathom's abyss, treacherous
Mistress, beguiling temptress, enslavement's captive,
Whom belongs to the sailors devil himself,
Thus she announces her masters arrival,
Known is he, as Davy Jones.
Aquatic demon, the soul feast-er, appearing perched
Upon the four masted sailing vessel, a seething fiend,
With ivory white fangs, red piercing eyes flash against
The storms rage.
The predator to prey ratio, delights this beast, from hell's
Deepest pit, it's relishing laughter, does chill the mariner,
To their very bones within.
Atop his ghoulish head, arises bullish horns, to drive
The undead, beneath the seas watery realm.
Fly swiftly, all seafaring men aboard, for the dark wrack's
Shadow, mars thy voyage, for death's imitate sacrifice.
Crimson gloves, do hold a set of golden keys, to chains
Shackled locks, behold phantom wave stalkers.
Lost souls of the forgotten, servitude's salves of the
Murky bottoms depths.
Treasures locker keeper, within the heart of the sea,
Does lie, a cold guardian stands watch, over it's
Precious contents, bound forever as persecution's
Divine punishment, from Poseidon, the great
Lord of the seven seas.
Answering their captain's hailing, the soulless crew,
Climbs aboard his ghostly craft, heading ever upwards,
To the unknown beyond.
Accursed windjammers, cutting against the rough surf,
Emerging as a seaweed covered derelict, it charges forth,
Riding upon the edge of the ultimate storm.
At fates spinning wheel, Davy Jones hands are set steadfast,
Awaiting the newly undead, to join his brackish crew.
The living pray for mercy grace, salvation's angels
Save us, pleading on knees bent low, Oh Lord Almighty,
Hear the sailors voices, crying out in sheer terror.
But the devil dues must be paid, for other
Mariner's safe passage.
To night behold the tolls collection plate is passed,
And is served by evils blackest hand, nay it's filled
Not in gold, but instead ti's flesh to the living bone.
Served on a silver platter, to none other then
Davy Jones himself, listen to his echoing laughter,
Filling the chilled air's darkness,
Than plunging beneath the briny depth's below.
Nothing remains but a legend's myth or so
It is said.
The were the three Magi with mantels and beards, traveling
on strong camels as far as Bethlehem and having
seen a wondrous star, they began their long journey
by bringing precious gifts, but they warned Joseph and Mary
of Herod's malicious intent...so they fled to Egypt
on a donkey that never complain of a sore hip!
They believed in the Savior as Herod himself full of pride,
and being very wise, they never returned
to tell him what kind of child they had found!
They brought their gifts and knelt at a child
whose fate as foretold was to die for us all,
and he gladly accepted them hearing His Father's call!
Not having heard from the Wise Men who had lied to Him,
Herod sent his soldiers to kill all children under three: screams terrorized Bethlehem;
no, they weren't moved by their mother's painful cry
and shedding their innocent blood they revenged that lie!
O mothers of Bethlehem, Jesus knew that they were slaughtered because of Him!
O mothers of Bethlehem, you wept and moaned as they bled as a sacrificial lamb!
They believed in the Savior from what they had read,
and wanted to see for themselves the glorious event that Daniel spoken of:
the brightest star shining over Bethlehem as angels sang,
announcing Christ's birth in a small town groping on a hill of citrus and clove!
Written on December 16, 2012
A lone rider sits high in the saddle,
As the horizon's sunrise spreads across,
The open prairie.
Twin pearl handed pistols rest at his side,
As rusty spires clang against wooden planks,
At the deadwood saloon.
Legends cowboys whisper his name,
On the dry desert winds,
A giant of a man whom breathed
Life again into the legacy,
Of the old west.
His side swagger's walk trademark
On the larger than a life screen.
The duke truly represents the great
American hero on horse back.
Six shooters drawn at high noon's
Count down,
John Wayne's the trail dusts equalizer,
He always remained on the right side,
Of tin stars law.
The tumble weeds rolls along a dirt path,
As tall cactus stand on an arried canvas,
Life here is harsh and mean,
Where only the strong survive.
Bold individuals with the inner
Strength against god's forbidden land.
Harden men whom lived by one simple,
Rule I will do what ever it takes
To stay alive.
He'll join the ghost riders,
Forever driving the lords herds
Across the grand divides vast
Prairie sky's as the sunsets
In the old west.
Alone figure rides high in saddle,
Set against a legends back drop,
Hell bound for glory,
In a cloud of gun smokes fog,
Behold the duke emerges,
With his hat on straight
And gun at the ready.
With the advent of those with devious intent
To serve own greed, a heaven torn apart
A shift into darkness, perpetual, distend
A vendetta, to burn through generations, sparked
Once bound by the seal of love, of empathy
A Cultivation that boasted of intrinsic diversity
This brotherhood that cherished in peace and harmony
Now thirsts for blood, in the name of vanity
Induced upon us, an obstinate ferocity
A misbegotten hunger that fuels our rage
Bequeathed down ages, a curse upon humanity
Blinded of reason, unleashed carnage
We seek serenity in slaughter of our own
And devastate families to satiate our yearns
Our cause, to us, still remains unknown
Yet, the desire to kill, back home returns
Denial to this order is yet to be witnessed
Divided, we fall, do you not understand
The faith, the legacy, and the strength we harness
Whatever the odds, united, we stand
Shall I best through tides and deny the inclined
Or succumb to the norms of the wretched fraternity
To be a man of purpose, an enlightened mind
Or be a conscript of havoc, doomed for eternity
By Muhammad Hussain Effendi
We are Tausug Nation
Defending independence
Free from the enemies
Stood not to get oppressed
Our Nation ruled
Of the country's independence
Never conquered from then
We shall develop our land
Our country, nation is known
Home of courageous person
Bound only in one faith
Never care of the death
Tumantangis, Dahu peaks of our land
To Bagsak, Sinumaan
And to all the mountains here
Only one God is aimed
Zamboanga, Basilan, North Borneo, Palawan
Centre is in Sulu land
Ruled by the Sultan
From the early point of time
Our nation is united
In the name of faith is complete
Only God is firm
Determined not to get conquered
Land of the pearl garden
Sulu Sea in the world is famous
From the South and North
And East and West
Blood of Martyrs flowed in the vein of the Sug Nation
Fought to defend
Flag rose like Vinta strip
Eternal pledge appeared
The ultimate sensation and so pure,
Skips a beat, uncontrollable, yet feels amazing,
Beating simultaneously - an intense magnetism
Will We Know Him?
Will we know Him if He stood in front of us?
If He walked by us on the street?
Will we know Him?
If we have a chance to meet Him in our lifetime?
In that split second that we meet Him?
Our eyes met for the first time?
Will we know Him?
Yes reading the moment we stood side by side?
Our smiles are very clear
Our heart jumps around
Yes we do know Him?
That look, and that feeling
When we know we've found our home
Yes we do know Him
Yes we know what to say to Him
As we walk away together
Yes we know Him as He knows us His children
We are finally together
Rev. Samuel Mack, OMS
Copyright 2013
My hand holds your hand and that`s enough.
In the green`s intervals, the weather is rough;
The blue wind freed its own ghost's chain
Following the rhythm of the crystalline rain;
With the leaf`s thrill and embrace`s embers
Patient ruby hidden in alabaster chambers,
Far from the desert of mirrors, standing aloof
As vulnerable as the surge`s serenity`s proof;
Simple surmise falling down with the mist,
Suspension bridge above the yellow East;
Looking from the season `s round roof,
Solitude seems hit by a rueful cold hoof.
Like the violet dawns date with the pale moon,
Chapel`s morning joined the emerald afternoon;
Air angels with white wings are our mates;
Trees beg for heaven to let open the gates;
We listen to inner chansons sung by Edith Piaf
My hand holds your hand and that`s enough.
For all of this apparent tragedy in her life, and truly it all only set the stage for my
mother's soul growth in this experience, what I remember most about my mom is her courage, her compassion and her ever-present service through her Words of Encouragement project that she carried on for the last nearly forty years that she was on this earth. She would collect inspirational writings, sometimes writing her own, and send them to her list of people "in bereavement". She would volunteer at some local church that would allow her to print copies for mailings. People inspired by her faith would donate envelopes and postage so she could continue mailing Words of Encouragement to people she learned about who were dealing with some kind of difficulty or loss in their life. After she died, we found she had maintained a carefully hand-written log of all the people she sent mailings to over the years. This was her form of "selfless service" and I'm certain that it was her service to others that kept her in the world when it would have been so easy for her to just give up finally.
I learned from my mother that we can pull ourselves out of our depression and self-absorption by turning our gaze outward and giving service in one way or another, how ever it is we can find a way to serve our brother. Even though it appears we have no material worth and nothing at all to give, on some level my mom understood the value and importance of giving encouragement to one another. She faced enormous loss, criticism and complete lack of support throughout her life but, time and time again, she found the courage to rise above, call to Holy Spirit for help, and carry on ... giving whatever she could give, whether it was a place to sleep on her couch for a homeless person, finding a market for handmade crafts created by women in prison, or even if all she could give was a Word of Encouragement.
This is in tribute to my mom, Anne Pauline Theresa Labus King Coker,
February 11, 1928 to April 4, 2002
Beauty of nature
Why condense it down to God?
Isn't life enough?
I've dreamed an admirable dream,
To touch the monolith's of Stone Hedge,
And understand their meaning.
What a bounty of knowledge have these
Once cave dwelling people leave us
As their legacy.
A hovel's kindred, whom came from
The darkness within the earthen tomb,
To experience the sun light, at the day
Break of a new age dawning.
Not a transparent reality as now,
But an evergreen world, for them
To utilize.
An Eden to explore, a wild untamed
Wildernesses, calling to them come
See what I have to offer thee.
Oh what would I give to see this
Wondrous place, where wild life roamed free.
This is my dream,
What would I give, everything???
Science in all fascination has discovered a species aquatic
Theorizing this new yet old species remained hidden as Merman
only to live in secret at the oceans floor the mermaid a tribe indigenous
once said to be myth yet all proof and technology film does not lie
Tsunamis has given the ocean a true glance of the man with webbed hands
The species communes with dolphins will be under a microscope to analyze ?
" The World is not ready to see what I have " Jacques Cousteau ~
to be entered in The Science contest ~
All around me
Great cities made of sand.
Green sky scrapers poke through the ground
To thrive in life's strict conditions
And melt away with the tide…
Great houses made of cards
Form lines, and tightrope walk existence,
Knowing that any moment, the wrong brick may fall
And buckle our world to its knees
As Mother Earth shouts Jenga! from the sidelines.
So while were here
We dance with the Glass Goddess
Poised miles above reality,
Leaping over the heavens on our domino stilts-
We floor it in the sky
Living death in the fast lane,
Seizing the day
Because any moment
We could disappear
Jacob Reinhardt
Christmas Sestina: Stage Centre!
A Child is born! Of Life this is beginning.
His cup is to defend the truth and right.
A stable now becomes of earth the centre,
At this, as yet un-named but very first "'Christmas".
Of pain and misery soon He'll make an end,
For God, the Holy One, has entered time.
Some wise men saw a star, and said "It's time
To see the newest miracle beginning –
A great King born – Oh what will be the end?
We thought that in the stars we had it right,
But what is this new saga? (Call it Christmas)
When stars show a new King at creation's centre?"
And yes. Indeed. A scream erupts at centre
Of attention as the knife cuts deep in time.
Old Simon lives a happy day this Christmas –
Now satisfied with death, his new beginning,
While Anna cries rejoicing as the right
Messiah comes, to bring to death to end.
But this could never ever be the end
As baby Jesus will yet take stage centre,
As is his mortal destiny and right,
To come fulfill the prophecies in time,
To bring salvation as a new beginning.
Such a day will ever be known as Christmas.
Now men the whole world over celebrate Christmas.
Of blindness, ignorance now there is an end.
Of truth and life He brings a new beginning
As in the hearts of men he builds his centre.
Justice and compassion have their time,
And a man can set his Heavenly heritage right.
So know that everything will be set right
For Jesus came at night, on that first Christmas,
To start the final era – the last days of time.
His Spirit births in men who're at an end
Of self, and who will gladly make Him centre
Of their death, and so engage the new beginning.
The earliest beginning was at Christmas.
Narcissism is right at its very end.
Now Jeshua has the centre of the stage of time.
when the
day of the
pentecost has
fully come they the
apostles discples
were all with one accord in
one place to hear ingathering
of Peter's Sermon on how christian
pentecost marks beginning church of christ
Entry For Brian Strand's Pentecost Acts 2.1-4
Tribute To Christ Our Lord
American flags,
the right to destroy is yours;
as is your freedom.
< symbolic icon
abrupts captivating flight
honoring fallen
amidst lined tombstone's marker
at historic Fort Snelling
Written By
Katherine Stella 8/8/11
Entry For Carolyn Devonshire's
Bald Eagle In Cemetery Contest
G.L. All
An Ode To LIFE
As I lay my head down and start to fall asleep I see myself being carried off to a place and time the place of our Lords birth in Bethlehem of Judea
As in the Bible tells the story of His life and how he lived and died in that human seance and rose on the day He told of
I do not remember being here but I remember the story I was taught so many years ago
As I walk through the streets of Bethlehem I see each scene and hear every word as I am learning the story they telling is true
The writer writes of a jealous King and his way of dealing with his people and of Mary and Joseph who came to Bethlehem to have a child
The story tells of the three wise men who saw a star in the north and heard of a child who was born to be the King of the Jews and come to see and bring Him gifts
An angel from the Heavens above came to Mary and Joseph in a dream and told them they had to leave Bethlehem or King Herod would have their son killed
So they left Bethlehem and went to Egypt and there they lived until King Herod no longer ruled
As I follow along in my dream I see each scene and hear every word as I am puzzled by the fact I understand each
I don't understand why I'm going through this time but I know I must continue on this journey
As I am pulling through a time where I reach the place of Jesus' in Nazareth of Galilee
As I watched Him grow and work in His father's shop I could see the thing in Him that were with me
As I walk along the streets and look around I hear the people talk of a child that speaks of wondrous love that's all forgiving and of a Father in Heaven that's loving and true.
By Rev. Samuel Mack, OMS
Copyright 2013
Inspired by God
Robin Hood
It was in the time of John
In the days that have long gone
When the plight of right and wrong
A test was set
It took a man of iron will
To battle on until
A nation he would thrill
They'd ne'er forget
For John was all consumed by greed
He over taxed those most in need
Pleas of the peasants wouldn't heed
How they'd shout
Though against his deep belief
Robin became a famous thief
To muster hope and some relief
For those without
Stepped forward Robin Hood
With his motives understood
He set out to do some good
For the poor
To his side a band of men
Some of sword and some of pen
Gathered round him, planned and then
Evened the score
High adventures, escapades
Among the woods and leafy glades
As Robin led his daring raids
He did surprise
Pouncing on the shallow rich
From every tree and bush and ditch
Relieving them of every stitch
To equalize
When the news to John was brought
He ordered Robin must be caught
Example to the people taught
To keep them bound
Soldiers he sent out in the wood
Blundered about, it was no good
No sight or sound of Robin hood
Was to be found
With a price upon his head
Wanted both alive or dead
Not a clue did one man shed
As to his lair
For all good men could plainly see
Through his selective robbery
It was the way it had to be
To make life fair
For their king old England yearned
And when at last Richard returned
He found a lesson had been learned
Of how to rule
Of your people earn their trust
Let your reign be fair and just
And remember that you must
Ne'er be cruel
Though a saint he'd never be
For he'd robbed to set men free
From the awful tyranny
Of evil John
Still he's hard not to admire
Whether surf or land-borne squire
To his height try to aspire
When he knew that he would die
He shot an arrow through the sky
Where it stuck he wished to lie
Next Sherwood oak
Though the truth may now be faint
And the story old and quaint
He remains a noble saint
To all good folk.
< Peter ~ Piper ~ picked ~ pickled .... peppers
Ate ~ one ~ turned ~ into ~ hot ~ salsa ... stepper
Cherry ~ Banana ~ .... Bell
Boy - his - tongue - throat - did ... swell
Couldn't ~ even ~ yell ~ at ~ packs ... prepper
Entry For
Destroyer {Poet's }
Pickles & Tickles Contest
G.L. All
Social injustice and economic inequality
have always been practiced in our Nation's working industry
Irish need not apply, Hispanics we don't want your kind
and Blacks don't even show your face
this was the typical response to ethnic minorities in America's workplace
nepotism and favoritism were the norm and status quo
as it was not about your knowledge or skill but about who you know
let us never forget the unions and labor laws which evened the playing field
for if it was left up to corporate America economic inequality would never yield
Racism, discrimination and segregation on our Nation's history is a blight
and in spite of all the civil rights laws we still have to fight
for a measure of equal opportunity
for some respect and a little dignity
let us never forget the Rev. Dr. King Jr., Medgar Evers, Cesar Chavez and Rosa Parks
those who stood up against injustice by igniting a socially conscious spark
they did not back down, they would not back off, they took a moral stance
so that every single human being in this country could have an equal chance
We hold these truths to be self-evident that all citizens shall be treated the same
regardless of race, color, age, gender or how we pronounce your name
and as we celebrate Black History Month let us never forget those who led the fight
in the struggle for social justice, economic equality and basic human rights
God made all people
But some better than others?
Stop being silly.
The Undisputed
I usually prevail when mostly other have doubts,
as my hostel rival friends taunt, boo and shout,
when they know my mind is focus on that title bout.
I took the stubborn champ to the limit with a reserve
of deadly impact of fresh crushing blows therefore
had the ruthless undefeated champ dazed, shocked,
and lay resting looking at my dancing toes as
I exit to go ending the big show.
2/15/11 by Keith K. Relf
From rich bucket bills of grandeur bliss
Dawns wobbling chills from cruel treachery
Harsh is the murmur of the night, my Lady
Has Aidos spang slain as disgrace ink reign?
Swarm of bees threats and afire the days
Seems... to live life, one must be on break away
Gowns and golds gone like a storm
Tears a rain clouding the seeds of reform
Never-say-die attitude the tarring rock
Ah! The Lady Zoya got this trait in blocks
Shut down on countless turbulent thuds
Still, she arise like a Monarch from the mud
Royal blood dance viscous to her veins
But to burlesque shows, she swayed in vain
For her children: Nicholas and Sasha.
Her picturesque-like the late Princess Diana.
Huge fire almost killed her children
She changed. Later became, a fashion designer
Simon Hirsch saw a diamond from a spread of roughs
He married and dressed her in lovelier stuffs
The tambourine music of war took her husband life
Penthos again bathe her ever wounded thrive
Yet, love abounds never did she succumb
She strive to strum melodies from the crumbs
**Zoya Konstantinovna Ossupov is a Russian countess,
a young cousin to Czar Nicholas II during the Russian revolution and World War I..
Aidos: shame, can range from a sense of respect
Penthos: grief, suffering
©O. E. Guillermo
9:38pm; November 11, 2014
The body: sacred
We're all made in God's image
Hence... circumcision?
Braver … Than All The Mighty Lions Can Roar
Braver … Than All The Spirited-Wings, That Soar
Braver … Than All The Explorers, Who Explored ( Philippians 2: 7, 8 )
Braver … Than All Or Any Of Us … Is The Lord
Truer … Than Those Who Faced Beasts, Who Devoured
Truer … Than Any Martyr, Who Has Been Whipped & Scoured
Truer … Than Any, Who Have Faced Hate & Been Scarred
Truer … Than Any Creature Ever, Is The Lord
The Freedom Fighter … More Than Any Mortal-Soldier
The Freedom Fighter … More Than Any Mortal-Warrior
The Freedom Fighter … More Than Any Army Corp
The Freedom Fighter … Problem-Solver & So Much More
The Leader … More Than Julius Caesar
The Leader … More Than The Great Alexander
The Leader … More Than Queen Elizabeth-Tudor
The Leader … More Than Eisenhower Or Any Super-Power
The Conqueror … He Is Unbeatable, Undefeatable
The Conqueror … He Is Undeniable, Undefiable
The Conqueror … He Is Invincible, Indefensible
The Conqueror … He Is Unstoppable, Unswervable
Stronger … Than Any Petrified, Nailed Board !
Stronger … Than Any Bound & Thorn Whip-Cord !
Stronger … Than Any Guard, Or Tombstone Hard !
Stronger … Than Any Bloodied, Spear Or Drawn Sword !
(He's Stronger Than Any Bullet Or Bomb Can Explode!)
So, Look Higher … Than Any Arch Cathedral
Look Higher … Than Any Gold-Domed Temple
Look Higher … Than Any Religious Symbol
Look Higher … Than Any Cosmic Or Man-Made Idol
The One Messiah, The Worthy One, Paid What We Can't Afford
The One Messiah, The Worthy One, His Blood & Soul Outpoured
The One Messiah, The Worthy One, The Christ, Who Restored
It's All On Record, GOD Gave His Word, GOD Gave, The Lord
Braver … Than All The Lions & Beasts, That May Roar ( Rev. 13: 11-15 )
Truer … Than All The Saints & Self-Made Saviors Or Survivors
Stronger … Than Any Enemy, Higher Than Our Hearts, For Love Is His Core
The Freedom-Fighter, Leader-Conqueror, Who Will Win The Final-War ( Rev. 16: 14-16 )
(Braver … Than Any Human Being, Ever Born)
GOD … Please Grant Us:
The Courage Of Jesus
The Strength Of Jesus
The Loyalty Of Jesus
The Love Of Jesus
The King Of Kings ( Rev. 19: 16 )
The Prince Of Peace ( Isa. 9: 6, 7 )
& The Amen … ( 1 Cor. 1: 20 & Rev. 3: 14 )
That's Why … In The Name Of Jesus ( Philippians 2: 9-11 )
His MoonBee
Dancing with butterflies
Flying through
Worlds of wonder
Imaginatively playful
Insatiable curious
Inventively adventurous
Happily honest
What more could she
Possess, pen to paper
Day time timid, night
Summoned adventurer
Flying wings of words
Friends, fields, birds, earth,
Death, pretty things,
Horses, almost anything
Free to be a child,
Any shape, size
Her pen decrees
Nothing escaped her
Honest appraisal, told its
Heart, like a revealing
3-D photo, then the deft
Ability to describe value,
Heft, meaning of things.
Story teller true, flare, power,
Whimsy wit. There's nothing
More to say except to love,
Secluded, she wrote for herself,
Creativity bequeathed her to us.
Jesus where do you go?
Jesus far, from home,
With the word of God comes the man named Jesus,
He travels with God's armor and lives in this ungodly land,
And His words of God come like the calling wind, setting men free,
A soldier in God's army is the man named Jesus,
Jesus where will you go,
Jesus far, from home,
He go' where He is lead,
The Word of God is His trust,
As the Word of God is pronounced,
The ungodly fear the man named Jesus.
By: Rev. Samuel & Esta Mack, OMS
copyright 2011
Once came along a groundhog named Phil
Looked for shadow in winters chill
Even top hat and coat
Didn't stop whining's gloat
Stuck six more weeks paying heating bill
Written by
Katherine Stella 2/4/12
Entry For
Linda Marie's
February Funny Bone Contest
I will laugh as loud as I can..
Laughter that comes within me..
Laughter that shakes even me..
Laughter that may end up to tears..
I will smile as wide as I can..
A smile showing evenly my teeth..
A smile that goes all thru my eyes and lips..
A smile that may melt and encourage you to smile..
I will sing as like a nightingale..
Hitting the high and low notes..
Dancing even in carefree..
Until, I own a space of mine..
I will care as much as I can..
Remembering that Caring is act of charity..
Putting into mind that life will be better..
Doing it now not tomorrow..
I will forgive as I much I can..
For God from heaven, forgives me too..
For this will keep peace into the world..
For this will end feud or war..
I will love as much as I can..
Bearing into mind that this what my God wants..
Showing unceasingly without asking for return..
Knowing this will tight the world's bound..
by: olive_eloi
Like · · Promote · Share
My day is a day to be reckoned with my Sir!
I am down back to zero going again you see.
I carry a silver stick just for you not for me.
Do know I roll in a blend of pure magic I stir.
Like my soup you are and a cat I shall purr.
My summer is magic my winter cues as be.
I am busy you see to fly in and out like thee.
But in between this world is a cross to incur.
And at the end of this world is even a bigger cross,
Sharp as a whistle seemingly to be at a great loss!
® Registered: Ann Rich 2009
< halloween haunting's
black shoe polish foundation
ruby red lipstick
pillow stuffed under big dress
red white bandana for hair
spatula in hand
eggbeater in dress pocket
pillowcase for loot
daddy's boots causing blisters
aunt jemima memories
Entry For
Paula Sweanson's
Halloween Of Tears Past
Tribute To Childhood Memories
They tell me that i'll never account to anything. They tell me that i'll never be anything in life. They tell that i will never actually achieve to be great. But when they say this i say i do account for something. I will be amazing in life and i will achieve the most greastist thing in history. I will never back down. I will stand tall and shake my head and say DONT TELL THAT I'M NOTHING. WHEN I SHOW YOU MOTHER-F*****S THAT I WILL BE GREAT IN THIS LIFE AND MY SPIRITS WILL FLY HIGH AS I REACH THE SKY!!!!!!!!!! deciated to zach harless
< Symbolic icon's flight abrupts
Arrow finds it's target's marking
blood curling like an volcano's erupt
world leader speaks vocal barking
Majestic crowns within a reach
symbolic icon's flight abrupts
For there are still own young to teach
under feathered wings that are cupped
Flightless viewing ones been corrupt
captured essance of feathered friend
Symbolic icon's flight abrupts
tears traces remain in the end
Those who reach new found milestones
keep soaring way on up and up
for now I stay chilled to the bone
symbolic icon's flight abrupts
Tribute To The Bald Eagle
Also Entry For
DR. Ram's
Quatern Contest
G.L. All
The Nameless
Slipping through the sieve of history,
the nameless rest.
Not for the nameless are roads renamed, nor monuments built.
Not for the nameless are songs sung, nor ink spilled.
The nameless rest.
Their silent sacrifice,
quiet ordeal,
muted trauma,
remain interred,
amongst their remains.
The nameless rest.
Not for the nameless are doctorates conferred, nor eulogies recited.
Not for the nameless are honours bestowed, nor homages directed.
The nameless rest.
They rest within us,
they walk with us,
in every step that we tread.
They rest within us,
they walk with us,
for their spirit is not dead.
"Your name is unknown, your deed is immortal"
- inscription at The Tomb of the Unknown Soldier WWII in Moscow
Special thanks to my dearest elder sister Tasneem Nobandla Moolla, whose conversations with me about life as a non-white person growing up in pre and post-Apartheid South Africa prompted me to write this dedication to the countless, nameless South Africans of every colour, whose sacrifices and dedication in the struggle against Apartheid tyranny must never be forgotten.
My sister's middle name 'Nobandla' which is an isiXhosa name and means "she who is of the people" was given by her godfather, Nelson Mandela, my father's 'best-man who could not be, as Nelson Mandela was unable to-make it to my parent's wedding as he was in jail at the time in the old Johannesburg Fort. This was the 31st December 1961.
In between deserts
Ocean there I lie
As high as elimino tide
In dream in one piece
Palm heart cactuses
Tides echo pacific whales
Land of accasias in treasures
Pachamama fly my soul in whale
The wound grow ashes in tears
Desert to pacific gate to open forbiden
Meet Kurosho collides Oyashio
Pachama will comeback all in one piece
The voice, angelic, sings beyond the sealed door
Draws its tune from Prescences profound,
From Beings not in this world found;
A gift conferred to none before,
As treasures from the Deeps to shore.
Her notes align to build the sound
That enfolds the mystic all around,
That skywards lifts her eyes once more.
Given to God while yet a child,
Hildegard's world was made of faith;
He life a-crowd with visions.
She endured their incandescence wild
Within her head, and proved such wraiths
May make a Heaven of their prisons.
< eye of the tiger
mystical yet beautiful ...
even through monsoon's
Written By
Katherine Stella 10/30/11
Season Chosen Monsoon
Entry For Charles Henderson's
Very Strict Haiku G.L. All
If its money I got its money ill keep.
If its money I have its money ill weep.
If its love that I give its love ill receive.
For I am but no one who just see's beneath.
Some say your only as strong as you feel, but how could we change..in a place that's so unreal. People are hearing but..not really hearing. Why is the world so blind. I keep on screaming and screaming and screaming for things to be revolutionized. I am just a small song in a world full of cries, laughter, tears and french-fries.
He is no more an ordinary recital
The world must sing is song,
His proposal, his achievement, his tittle...
The world must yield his course
And his bossy boastful epoch.
He is no more an ordinary residence
The world must dance to his tone,
He is a lion, an elephant, a tiger...
He is a ruler that rule the rule
Now, the world must bury his corpse.
He is no more an ordinary civilian
He is a major superior authority.
Until his death that must belittle him.
He had once be a gouge by chance,
Now, he can't groan where he must dwell.
Socrates and Cicero
incorporated civility as a powerful, effective tool
in their poetry and dialogues
to smite the unsound ways of the sly fool.
Today our society
snaps with anger at such wise thoughts,
having little regard
or respect for its laws, and so disobedience
grows at an alarming rate,
to set up garrison; and would the modern
barbarians absorb the substance
of the proposed, logical ideas?
Cognizance is learned by knowledge and deed!!
Any Nation embracing civility
can guarantee its citizens order and harmony,
and as a matter of conscience,
its a rendition of many values not coercing
a free spirit, but allowing it
to coexist to make many, who rebel, cogitate.
Civilization can't survive,
if its pillars don't rest on its foundation as Greece
and Rome did! Do we despise
them with smirks and smuts, not appreciating
what made them truly great....
assuring everybody peace and prosperity?
Good, lovable and fair parents
raise virtuous children to be beacons of morality,
and does faith contribute to their
well-being by instilling in them amorous sentiments?
We have seen courageous men
and women defend their right to choose,
to exist without being imposed restrictions...
and they succeed in their quest!
All that Mankind wishes and dreams
can be achieved by being trustworthy and diligent;
greatness awaits those holding up
those values that still are a society's secular dream.
Tonight, the full moon blooms
And foils the looming gloom.
The remnant doom from noon
Has lost it's bullish tune.
And embraces dusk's eerie cool.
The village square it illuminates
Arena of moonlight tales of late
The little ones gather and wait
While the elderly engage in debates
And the goats noisily ruminates
The bright night, lights sparks
Of bliss and joy in trees' barks
The tall iroko whistle in parks
Where young lovers end their tracks
And skimpy skirts lose their tacks
The son of perdition frets unsure
The thief in the night fears exposure
The pirate sailor steers from ashore
The night fisherman denied action
For the kind light bathes the ocean
Tonight, the full moon beams proud
As the town crier makes his round
Belting forth a piercing sound.
While the town's chorus echoes loud
The stage is set for the yearning crowd
Tomorrow is Ours.
Suffocating beneath the weight of historical fear,
asphyxiated by the legacy of traumatised yesteryear,
the festering wounds of enslavement still remain,
juggling euphemisms in a crisp sound-bitten refrain,
spewing out neo-liberal economic charades,
doling out charity in strips of plastic band-aids,
tomorrow shall be ours,
casting away subservient mind-sets that shackle,
no longer the weakened prey of the insatiable jackal,
tomorrow shall be ours,
we shall reclaim our plundered mindspaces,
we shall shed our chains, leaving behind the traces,
of past injustice, of the hurt and pain of our ancestors' sorrows,
we are here, now, alive with hope,
we shall rightfully claim our own tomorrows.
I never knew black because I grew up white
Raised in a town which kept them out of sight
Born of Rock-&-Roll- north of the mason Dixon line
Lincoln our state's hero - I never understood the why
In 63- off to college I would go
To a small southern town seemingly all aglow
But words like nigger, cracker, and white's only were new to me
I saw at first-hand how contemptuous they demean
Black's blood runs red- like mine when I bleed
The color of southern hate was splattered on a burning cross tree
Terrible- terrible ignorant blindness I did see
I prayed to my God- how can this be
Remembering Jesus loves the little children all the time
I learned to accept the color, the man- as a friend of mine
His soul- just as precious as mine to me
Because of God I respect his creed
A world yet still color blind- but now I see
A spiritual journey
I develop more diligently
It is not attained through self-gratification but through fidelity
Without the journey, there is no point to the destination
To move ahead I must have no hesitation
Your experiences are not who you are
I definitely aim for the stars
We are just the passengers relying on God's navigation
In life we never have a travel plan but look to our destination
We are nothing but the passengers and God is at the helm
In our lives we are always on a journey here in this earthly realm
So many people are miserable but pretend to smile and grin
But are held captive by their own sins
We are have misconceived notions of time
Remember authority is nothing more than history defined
In a world surrounded with glitter and lies
Through history we all have been cheated and despised
Life is a journey that will never end
"As we get older the journey of our lives does't really exist to us anymore because we know
we will be entering another journey."
Oh youthful monarch of Egypt, so young to die and yet live again.
In the nether world a Pharaoh's golden death mask is lain upon
A boy king.
In silences crypt a stilled figure lies in stacious frozen freeze.
Until Ra's first rays kiss the dawn and they embrace in passions
Fiery flame.
Behold a rebirth an emergence from death's chilling shroud.
In the valley of the dead his caucus's soul walks amongst
His ancestral ancestors.
Lost deities whom balance the hearts of men
Against the feather of truth
Speak his name with honor's reverence.
Legacy's inheritance a throne built in the shadow,
Of hierarchy's indignation yields,
To restorations royal seal barring his title of rebirth
The great sphinx retracts it's sharpened claws,
As this small emperor's spirit bows with nobility's,
Humblest of respectfulness at his marble feet.
Without fears emotions he thus stands all alone,
Before this stone giant of idles sacred worship,
At his touch this littlest of divine gods,
Turns a stone beast into flesh.
And beneath the night's blanket of stars,
He is welcomed
Into the warmth of the lions main.
A living creature cradling this child of light,
Slowly fallen into dreams eternal sleep once more.
In the halls of Karnack a peaceful lullaby plays,
Upon invisible instruments, in a gentle soothing.
Rhythmic tones the music plays.
As a woman's voice sings of a beautiful desert spring,
That turns into the Nile's fertile waters,
Feeding it's eternal life.
And thus the boy king sleeps wrapped in slumbers,
Golden fleece, listening to the holy Melody,
Which is ancient Egypt.
Finally at peace within the kingdom of thieves,
A Pharaoh of the golden realm.
Hush now beware do not wake him,
Or his curse may claim another victim.
In the beginning I started off as just another nobody from another nowhere trying make it to somewhere as a somebody as everyone else. In the beginning I was BORN TO LIVE TO DIE, but in the process I was BRED TO LEARN TO SURVIVE. I became a CONVICT OF CHRIST through PAINFUL PLEASURES of my many struggles and strife's. I was a SINFUL SAINT but more of a sinner, mainly a loser and never a winner. I was once considered one of the best, now days I'm just trying to be lower than the rest, unseen in plain sight , NOTHING MORE NOTHING LESS. I became lost in time through my many self-taught TRUE LIES of yet another LOST FIND growing up where few DREAMS LIVE , but many more DREAMS DIE. I soon got LOCKED UP but it was very educational because I LIVED IT and LEARNED FROM IT. I was given a choice to LIVE FREE OR DIE INCARCERATED, so I made that choice to be more loved than hated, so I became UNDER LOVE and OVER HATE, I learned to stop wanting and actually appreciate. Its been hard to change so I became a POET OF PAIN. That's when I learned the truth about those who think their dying for something but they might as well be living for nothing, because I learned that real truth comes from LIVING FOR SOMETHING because I ain't DYING FOR NOTHING. So now I am forever a W.O.L.F. once a warrior of lost freedom now trying to stay a warrior of lasting freedom you know what I mean.
America the beautiful, home of the brave,
One Nation under God, marked upon their graves,
Our founding fathers built this land,
"In God We Trust," they made their stand.
A nation built with strong convictions,
Free from British Rule,
"I Pledge Allegiance To The Flag,"
Was said in all our schools.
There was a time when we would pray,
After each and every meal,
Cite the Ten Commandments,
Let The Master do His Will!
Is sung within our songs.
A New Light shines upon us,
A Fire from down below,
Satan is spreading his political views,
Erasing all that we've come to know.
The prayers that once were said in schools,
Became "A Moment of Silence,"
The paddling we received from the Principal's rule,
Has been replaced by murder and violence.
Is Exactly what we have done,
Children running amuck and wild,
Shooting parents with their guns.
The Special Day we celebrate, each and every year,
The day in which our Savior was born, filled with joy and cheer,
Has become a day of infamy, a name we must not say,
Merry Christmas has been replaced, by Happy Holidays…
Even though in jail.
Dreams were never put on hold.
Dr. King kept his faith.
the land was valued at $240, where they built "the little church on the hill"
established by a group of abolitionists and free blacks for they knew that was God's will
they named it Berean Baptist and its congregation was integrated
but after only a short time the membership separated
the church continued to prosper for the members were godly inspired
they would not let anything keep them down not even those two fires
the congregation would continue to rebuild for their faith could not be pricked
they got smart and moved two blocks over and erect a church made out of bricks
it was a little chapel yet membership would continue on the up swing
the church needed more room, so they then added on two wings
from Dr. Brown to Drs. Matthews, Eldridge and the Rev. Dr. James
anointed men of God who helped Berean establish a good name
from Rev. Roman and now Dr. Griffith with their powerful evangelistic ministries
and after 157 years Berean is a great church with a lasting and living legacy
and with the Lord's continued blessings, His mercy and His grace
The Historic Berean Baptist Church will always be the place
where anyone and everyone can come to get godly inspiration
for Berean is the church that will set on the path to salvation
In forest you'll hear squak squak squak
May capture bears play
Or foxes cock-eyed walk walk walk
Down by waters bay
High in trees you'll hear owls owls owls
Just more feathered friends
But I love water fowls fowls fowls
So let's not this end
Miss Hood cried big bad wolf wolf wolf
I just stared and laughed
Seeing deer prints from hoofs hoofs hoofs
Think she's needs skunks bath
As many stanzas as you like.The last 3 words of each 8 syllable line are the same, to create the echo. These can be 1 or 2 syllable words, so long as the line is 8 syllables long. Syllable Count......220.127.116.11. etc.
Rhyming Sequence.......a.b.a.b. c.d.c.d. e.f.e.f. etc.
REMEMBER, REMEMBER THE 5TH of NOVEMBER.
The world still remembers Mr Guy Fawkes,
who plotted to blow up the House of Lords.
Tortured, guilty of treason, the story is told
how he cheated The Hangman; he jumped off the scaffold.
A broken neck did not appease the Crown,
who hung and quartered all foes of renown.
In response, a decree that all people remember
the failed plot; a holiday, for the 5th of November!
Children hunt while mothers groan,
'Why can't we be left alone?
All we want is a place to rest,
But all we hear is, 'Where's Grandpa's vest?
You want those old trousers I threw out,
and those old shoes, with their soles half out?
If I threw them out, then they're no good,
So please be quiet you know you should.'
'We won't be noisy; we will be good.
We're looking for two long bits of wood.'
'Hey Mum, we found these sticks, in the bombed out houses.
Can we have Dad's old coat; and those old trousers?'
Stuffed with paper, gosh, he's fat!
The bonfire's ready, but where's Guy's hat?
Oh there it is, stuck fast in that briar,
Now Guy Fawkes was ready for our street's Bon-Fire.
We couldn't bother Mum, and Dad was at his works,
but, we needed money to buy fireworks.
'Penny for the Guy, Mister,' we called outside the shop,
'we must have some crackers when we put him up top.'
Bangers and Jumping Jacks, were thrown on the ground
to give a fright and a scare as all dodged around.
There were bottles with rockets that fly to the sky.
There were hands in pockets; warm and dry.
The flames rose high, we could see through the fire.
The Guy stood up on his funeral pyre.
He cannot jump off that pile of wood;
he's tied tight to the chair that used to be good.
On the chair's legs, we all scratched our names,
And remember the reason as it goes up in flames.
Guy Fawkes, on barrels of gun powder; a patsy
for the treasonable reasons of Robert Catesby.
Remember, remember the 5th of November
not for the gunpowder, the treason or the plot.
Betrayed, found guilty, Fawkes cheated being slaughtered.
By the government who wanted him drawn and quartered,
but Guy Fawkes? He died his way, whether they liked it or not.
The Egyptian standard falls, unto histories surrendering,
The deserts breath, is so stilled, under the Nile river's
Murky abyss, busted masts, heave against the
Heavily laden hauls,taring the ships apart,
As the Egyptian fleet sinks beneath the waters surface.
A shooting flame of arrows, lights this tender box,
Of human flesh and bone, in wars clash of titans,
Rome must concur all nations.
Survivors screaming for salvation's protection,
But help will not come, for Horas is a
Defeated deity, hiding within his own temple to
The east.
Broken is the heart of Egypt, as a daggers sharp edge,
Is plunged into the body of a living god, the last Pharaoh,
Known as Cleopatra.
Cradling misfortune's solider, Mark Anthony, she thus weeps,
Behold love's most tragic couple of history.
With his last breath, he calls unto she, by names sake
Alone, Cleopatra, than remains stilled.
Lord thy last falcon has left the golden land,
Welcome him, she thus bids farewell, to hearts warrior,
A mortal woman holds her lover, within destiny's arms,
Soar with the great eagles, my love, for soon I'll join thee,
In the great halls of our ancestors.
Tragedies star crossed lovers, partake in the bitterest
Of fruit, dried are these figs, once ripened by the sun,
Now unpalatable by discord's taste.
Nay, all the power and wealth of Egypt itself,
Could sever, the silver threads joining these two,
From one another.
Lovers heart, bound even after death itself,
Shall they walk forever, within the valley of
The dead together, silhouetted figures, embracing
Reunification's promise vows expressed long ago,
Written within their hearts eternal.
Lain in a golden gown, the queen of the Nile
Does she rest, beneath death's slumbering shadow,
A serpents bite, has laid waste to a dynasty's blood line.
Behold how in the heaven two eagles do soar,
Blanketed by the golden warmth of the sun,
As the passages of the hear after open wide
Their mighty gates, each name is spoken with
Honor pride, behold Mark Anthony and Cleopatra.
Day by day we pray to stay alive, ladies, the face of this world is slowly changing, no longer do we need to hold our heads in disgrace, and it's about time we take our place. No longer let us be connived, nor let us forget the silent cries in trees that our sista's souls are still hangin', see the true in others denies rather waistin' yourself complaining. Nor keep us from strength to stand by man, strength to leave if struck by hand, no more bruises upon our face for we also help to make this race. No more scars upon our souls for only marked with beauty moles and let our stories be fortold for we are women who behold, a key to inspiration and moral pride, coming out of our hide, Gods rules are to which one should only apply, but most chose pain to keep inside, left alone and died. Your elimination of God's creation, we are but faith to this nation. Men of ignorance we are sick of belligerence, cuz we prove intelligence, cuz where there's no woman there is no man strong and on this land we belong as distinct and separate persons walk along. Before your ignorance get the respect that you so vainly seek, practice what you claim til' all things you do or speak shall in reality be the same, nor let us be so eased to blame and give us our well earned past due fame, all musical and sorrowful stories contained. My people, make me proud to know your name and I'll return the favour by doing the same.
For all men whom think us fast, remember the good ones always finish last, we women are still raped future and past so personally you can kiss my ... In us your babies wombs all your life fluids we consume, to mothers growing up too soon, to those mommas babies and daddy's maybes.....REMEMBER, when your round to actin' shady, we are the ladies of this land, women with pride we stand, I am a WOMAN and for equal respect, I would do it again!!!
1984 Has Gone.
Nineteen eighty four has gone
But still it's not too late.
George Orwell got the date all wrong
But he recognized our fate.
His words are being acted out
You can see it everywhere.
George Orwell was a prophet man
His truth's at you they stare.
And so we sit, the TV on
As we stare into it's rays.
And the adverts roar so loud and clear
and with our minds they play.
"You must have this, you can't do that
They tell you how to live
And all they think you need to know
Though they haven't much to give.
And everyone be taught to think
Just like the one, the other.
As little bricks they each be formed
But the truth's kept undercover.
And not too many want the truth
Or even think at all.
So me, I turn that TV off
It drives me up the wall.
In History, Nelson fought the Spanish
This powerful Armada did vanish
My ancestor was in thrall
Kismet Hardy had a ball
No invasion, the infidels, banished
Mankind has been persecuted, slaughtered, raped, pillaged, enslaved, taxed and under tyranny since time immemorial battles have been fought physical religious and verbal and what greater has sufficed from such noble struggles second to none would be the common sense of the American colonial lit upon the shores of the new found wealth an open land of nature worshipping muttered upon the dirt now the empire building nation with its obscure technology and obscure idea's come manifest it's destiny upon weary ears poor natives who now live under the Anglo-Saxon sphere poor natives who were given the ringing of bells laughter and cheers of punters that drool around the cathedral of neon lights and free beers
Given the choice would they have traded that for the hush sounding swaying of trees and cries of wolves who live among them the otters the beavers to reindeers
Blessed are those who have ushered the knowledge of genocide for so many years
But when man has reached he's step and was given the chance to read. he founded his deepest principle he's most noble and desired needs in the vast continent and empire of the United States beauty and truth behold those men of 1776 leading the world from its canopy of tears and taking their fathers ideas and strife's and putting to battle what we all know is right a self-evident cause a infused sense of time has come. The providence of mankind is now and one cracks of muskets screams and bayonets blood soaked mud deeper than the darkest claret such compassion confounds the senses what a special great nation it was back then
Why did the American trade it's prairies and untouched heaven and replace it with concrete and the grotesque to build a land for the few to build a farm of financial gain chasing the dollar without it the insane left on the concrete street all bruised battered and in-flamed the land of the 'free' the land of plenty silenced never to explain why such beautiful principles lived then and haven't lived again all beings all one all equal the real American idea understood then maybe a genetic longing built in the history of the soul lost through the mix of peoples who came after the story had been told and didn't live to it's meaning or failed to understand that America's beginning was the American conclusion to these ghastly awful solution and situations we found ourselves in today don't copy the oppressors be the world's hero again.
The Eagle,
Mightiest and most majestic of all the birds.
Revered by the American Indian as Most Blessed of all the Animals by The Creator.
According to Indian legend of all the birds The Creator chose the Eagle to be the leader,
Master of the sky.
He flies higher and sees better than any other bird.
As he roams the sky the Eagle is believed to have a special connection with God.
He is considered to be a messenger to God and was given the honor of carrying the prayers of Man between the World of Earth and the World of Spirit where The Creator resides.
The wings of the Eagle represent the balance needed between male and female, each dependant upon the strengths and abilities of the other.
To wear or hold an Eagle feather causes The Creator to take immediate notice.
With the Eagle feather The Creator is honored in the highest way.
When one receives an Eagle feather that person is being acknowledged with gratitude, love and ultimate respect.
Only real true Men and Women carry an Eagle feather.
Eagle feathers are never to be abused, dropped or contaminated in any way.
If for any reason it is dropped it must be cleansed in a proper cleansing ceremony.
The keeper of an Eagle feather makes a little home where the feather will be kept safely and protected.
It should be hung up within one's home not placed in a drawer or cupboard.
Eagle feathers were awarded to Braves, Warriors and Chiefs for acts of valor and bravery.
These feathers were difficult to come by and had to be earned one at a time.
No matter how he came by possessing an Eagle feather, no one was allowed to wear one until it was proved he had won it in an act of bravery according to Tribal Law.
An Indian would rather part with his horse or his tepee rather than lose one of his feathers. To do so would be dishonor in the eyes of his tribe.
Under U.S. and Canadian Law a permit is required from official government conservation authorities for anyone to possess an Eagle feather.
Judy Ball
For Pure Thoughts On Nature Contest by John Freeman
Millions of lives and souls untold
And to account it all
Words, lines, films
Imagination trims
A sliver of soft, scarlet ribbon
Hollywood rounds
Quills deliver
Writers flare with passion so strong
Filling minds with fantasies, reveries, histories
We consume it all like freshly baked bread
We feed until we are engorged and fed
A viral, universal mess
Ideas and unmade memories
Nothing more or less
My eyes remain glued to the screen
Living it all out
Tears dare to flow—to doubt
I should have thought of that
Can I truly let myself believe,
Someone else lived that!
Pound away your directors, script-writers, fighters
For miles and miles of stories remain unread
While the unknown remain in the grounds of humble malnourishment
Careers for the mind with a twist of the fable
Left us savage for the meal and the crumbs under the table
I can never let the raw truth rest
Naked, bare and empty—soothed
Nothing more or less
I cringed for originality
Observed the world through the unedited scripts
The very act, the poetry pact
The wild animal drooling in the back
I was slapped in the face by my boss who had cracked
As the reviews bloated less and less
They wanted something awful, something flaw-ful—something new
And this empty brain in agony—HISSED
I have lived in no epic battle of account
Of the collateral sufferings of my brothers
The stories the red carpet smothers
And still I ache to create
Before the other ones discover
I returned with ''oh me's' and 'oh my's''
With a work of pure genius—a storybook of lies
Nothing more or less
Little have I lacked to dream
Of contortioned pulls and dramatic fire
Stories that rarely brittle or tire
I fiddled with precious glass on edge
Foully eager for self-damage
As if it would trigger some legitimate spark
Searching for creatures and features in the dark
No one unlocked the passage that night
For the starving idea-parched malice of right
But all welcomed with open arms
A pale mannequin filled with jewels and charms
Consuming, fuming dooming
All ghosts hoping, screaming, looming
Hoping that one day they would find themselves on the big screen
Their legacy real as it can possibly get
Nothing more or less
The Colosseum, welcome young gladiator,
To the arena of death, sharpen thy sword, and raise
Your shield high, bow to the emperor, known as
Listen to the mighty roar of the crowd surrounding
You, is it not a deafening sound, seemingly, by it's sheer
Force alone, causing the earth to shake around thee.
Behold you've been chosen to compete, in this the
Cathedral of crushed bones and mangled flesh.
Here where victory's foe, may drown beneath a
River of red crimson, from his own brethren kindred.
A marble lain thunder dome, to quench humanities
Insatiable lust, for blood's sport, torture and mayhem.
The deadly game meant to appease, the crowd,
And high born bred royal, and nobility.
Behold the grand delusion put on full display,
As the Christian Martyr, falls upon his crucifix
Of faith, embracing salvation, to cultivate
A new religion, yielded by the mortal
Fleshes sacrifice.
Dine well king of beasts, smiling with a cattish,
Grin, of sheer delight, licking his paws after
The feast set before him, is done with it's screaming.
Trumpets sounding horns, announce the next act,
To step forward upon this stage of twisted reality.
Be bold youthful Gladiator, for experiences sword
Arm faces opposite of thee, waiting for the signal
To be given from above.
Clashing titan's of survival, warriors with weapons
Drawn, leaving no quarters for retreat, mercy's resolve,
Lies only at the sharpened edges blade point.
It is to the triumphant, goes victory's spoils,
He whom receives, the thumbs downwards sign, lives.
A heroic image, limping and bloody, half falling
To his knees, to bow unto the majesty and might
Of Rome itself.
Achieving the greatest prize of all, to live
And see another days dawning,
And fight another battle,
Within this ancient mausoleum of doom.
As far as I know this is a true story about Alexandra the great...Peter
The Sannyasin.
Alexander said to Dandamis
"Old man you come with me
For I need me a sannyasin
To take across the seas.
Hey you be just a beggar man
I'll make you rich indeed
You'll live a life of luxury
With everything you need.
Dandamis standing naked there
With silence in his essence
He had no fear at all did he
In the mighty leaders presence.
He said "I'll give you nothing friend
And there's nothing that I need
So Alexandra drew his sword
Tried to make the beggar plead.
Dandamis laughed and said these words
With power in his voice
"You can put that sword right through my heart
My friend, that be your choice.
But I left this body long ago
I have no use for it
So pierce this heart my fine young friend
It won't harm me a bit.
Alexander he was beaten
By a fearless beggar man
Though he had won most of the world
Dandamis foiled his plans.
The beggar said "You say you're great
But that's not true at all
For any man that thinks he's great
He be merely a fool
Aye Ireland -
king of the ol' plains,
ye beacon us back to
the land of shamrocks,
wid yer pubs-n-ale,
mates and song,
and Celtic traditions
wid Gaelic delight.
Aye Ireland,
on Saint Patty's Day
ye awaken us
to yer majestic beauty,
panoramic shores,
tranquil life,
courageous history
and aye,
yer lovely Irish maidens.
Aye Ireland –
through trails
and tribulation
yer sparkle endures.
Ye embrace faith,
play hard,
laugh hardy
feel yer hearts wid joy
and love
wid deliberation
and purpose.
Aye Ireland -
beautiful Ireland,
king of the ol' plains –
ye beacon us.
bhí dhá labhra budh rí ar seanchlár
Dedicated to an author by the name of William Golding... Enjoy!!!
~Two boys meet on an island
~~One is skin 'n bones
~~~The other one is chubby
They discover a lagoon~
Ralph teases him by calling~~
him "Piggy" - how mean!!~~~
Piggy asks him if
There are other people on
The island with 'em
He has no clue
But this'll answer Piggy's question --
Other boys appear -
All diverse shapes and sizes
What'll happen next??
You'll see...
Have you ever read The Lord of the Flies?
I recommend it if yah haven't read it yet - I must admit
It's a book full of adult words and it's simply...FASCINATING! - no lies
You should read it - or you'll regret it!
Spoke direct to God
God told him anoint Elisha
Elijah passed Elisha plowing cast mantle on him
Twelve men plowing oxen; Elisha was last in line said let him tell his parents goodbye
(Based on 1 Kings 19: 19-21)
The Color of a Man's Character
We all bleed
And cleave to
Those we leave
We all smile when we are greeted
And cry when we are mistreated
Why do we choose to abuse others
For the color of their skin?
Why do we think that only
Our own color should win?
We're all the same underneath
We all deserve peace
When we lay down to sleep
Love one another while you can
Show your son how to be gracious
The color of a man's character
Is how he treats his fellow Man.
May 31, 2010
May Day!
I sprout with a surprise springing forth from me today.
Birds sing such a magnificent most pleasurable praise.
I want to be the one He promised soon He would raise.
I will be celebrated all by myself on that God-given day.
I will stand in His Gracious Glory at His appointed Say.
Yesterday will be but a blurring faded haze, life a craze.
He sets my soul on fire and sets my spirit off in a blaze.
I bet I will buzz like a bee zipping by you each May Day!
It is all in a day just for me to say.
Ta! Da! I'd bet you did not realize!
May Day! May Day! I say let's play!
Walla! I say May Day's materialize!
Waiting every May Day is loads of fun,
Unbelievably, May Day is never done!
®Registered: Ann Rich 2010
Softened whispers transcend through the centuries.
As they echo at night in my dreams.
I can hear as they sigh when they call me.
Like the ripples of soft flowing streams.
They beseech me to always remember.
All the struggles of so long ago.
Although aeons have passed since they perished.
Gifts of knowledge they seek to bestow.
In my dreams I am reincarnated.
Hand-in-hand as we laugh and we play.
I'm not sure if they're real or imagined.
I just know that they taught me to pray.
Very clear I can see them before me.
Then they smile as they fade in my sleep.
In my mind I hold on to their memories.
In my heart they all dwell in the deep.
By Samia Ali Arroyo
Within the cold gray stone,
It lives a spiritual humming,
A strumming rhythm of natures
Raw essence.
Breathing rock inhaling, exhaling
As the earthen elemental surrounding
Conscious thought.
Knowledge's smoothed edges, leave
Reasons rough coarseness exposed.
Humanities deaf ear, hears only,
The hollowing of the four winds,
Shutting out enlightenment's truth.
Natures dream weaver touches
With her softest silken finger tips,
And gods canvas falls unto earth.
Behold a tapestry deepest blue,
Lit by universal stars.
In the stone circle,
Mankind lifts innocence vial,
Revealing ignorance blindness
Of sight.
And feels humiliation smallness.
It's singular aloneness, individuality,
Quest for immortality exists,
On baron grounds frosted soil.
In stillness silence, behold the
Ring of fire.
Lighting divine spirits to flame,
Flickering embers alight igniting
Destiny's spark.
Intellect, intelligence a rebirthing
From deaths black darkness.
Within the cold gray stone,
It lives a spiritual humming.
A strumming rhythm of
Natures raw essence.
Breathing rock, inhaling,
As the earthen element's
Surrounding conscious thought.
A cathedral of stone,
With one disciple
Left in prayers knelling position.
Woman of God,
A Diamond is what you are,
Beautiful & special & sweet,
A diamond a person would strive for,
Built with the lord's armor,
A diamond is the hardest thing to break,
You are shielded and protected by God,
You are my diamond,
My diamond with much wisdom,
You may be a short statue,
But you are wealthy and rich,
In my heart and in the eyes of the lord,
This is simply your time,
Your time and honor,
You deserve.
You lived a wonderful life,
Guided us and teached us the right thing to do,
And I appreciate you,
My pastor, my beautiful grandmother,
And my honorable Diamond,
Prophetess E. J. Woodford!!
Effulgent sun proffers love
Above the undergrowth…of
Thorns and weeds
The moon unravels wonders
When God closed the door
At the moment Noah finished the boat
Rain poured from heaven
The boat began to float
At the moment Noah finished the boat
And the heavens opened their tide
The boat began to float
As people cried and begged outside
And the heavens opened their tide
As Noah's hand were tied
As people cried and begged outside
The boat floated, animal made noises on ride
As Noah's hands were tied
At the closing of the door
The boat floated, animals made noises on ride
When God closed the door
(Based on Genesis 7:16)
stuffed critters line the dashboard
of the V-dub he takes every day
to visit her where she rests
his bent fingers pluck strings
little princess sightless
except for shadows, sees
the cloudless day and beams
the brightest crooked-smile
feisty one drives big truck
one leg to pump the pedals
which one, the gas of course!
while she dreams of evenings
bike pedals turning, churning
on his daily fitness route
he ventured out, not accepted
came home to lead
rubber boots, wide-brimmed hat
hands toil earth creating beauty
short strong arms set nets
He reaps ocean's bounty through
*the unmentionable word of all time – leprosy. The stigma still exists for those who have long been rid of Hansen's Disease. The only unclean thing is the heart of mankind.
Dedicated to all those who have honored and touched my heart on Molokaí.
< O ye how the west has gone won
now wipe those trails of tears my son
dance the ring of fire for fun
speak and learn native ways
learn not to speak with riffles gun
rustle bacon beans Hey !
Written By Katherine Stella 7/3/11
Entry For Dr Ram's
Rime Couee's Contest
G.L. All
A Leader That Comes Only Once In a Few Generations
I want to see a leader who is willing to do the right thing for our country
Not try to make a buck for themselves.
We need someone who is willing to lead our nation to a brighter future
Not into quick sand so they can rule the land for a few days.
Our United States needs a person who is not self-centered
Someone who can think what will save this country from
Becoming just like all of the rest, a person who will maintain
Our country's independent identity.
We need a leader not a chump who is down on his luck;
We need someone who is willing to walk away from a buck.
Our nation has to find a person willing to stand up for her
Not sell her out, she needs a true once in a few generations
Type of leader to truly lead our country to better times.
Amongst the heaven's vast divides in the kingdom,
Of the God's the hills have eyes.
Here mighty Zeus commands with an iron fist,
And lightnings deadly thunder bolts.
Beware humanity the Olympians watch over thee,
In the grand pantheon's arena known as the blue,
Planet called earth.
Written in sacred text ancient scrolls are legends,
Hero's whom fall and rise with the whims of
Those four twisted sisters called the fates.
Praying in pagan temples to divine deities.
Virgin maidens cry innocence tears on the
Fallens behalf.
Courageous champions performing on,
A grand theatrical stage to appease nobility,
Almighty audience.
Hercules half beings mortal flesh an indestructible
Landside of raw strength a force to be,
Reckoned with no power on earth could,
Over throw his father's immortal throne.
Achilles tempered steel wrought and lain,
Upon human flesh.
In reverences shadow of a woman's desist,
Dies at the feet of reverences unmerciful beauty,
Named Helena.
Bloods spear of destiny lies quivering, on
The far distant shores of troy.
As a wooden horse burns beneath heavens,
Moonlit sky.
Greenery's loyal leaf encircles mankind's,
Spiritual soul to honor lost hero's in the,
Elysian fields of the dead.
Silent echoes whispers linger among eight
Peaks near creet.
In reans ashes and destructions broken temple
Walls life remains at rests domanate state.
At victory's trumpet call shall these guardians,
Rewake to take their place again amongst,
The univeral map of galatic stars,
The oylampians.
But your legacy's remembrances leave,
A magnificent brilliance no dynasty can,
Compare with your shinning example.
We remember thee blinded by thine,
Everlasting beauty.
I picture Kashmir through lightened KL. News of another massacre darkens my eyes
Winds are thirsty there. They continue to taste the young blood.
I groom myself with exquisite things,
Sipping ice tea in ac room, I comfort myself
And Kashmir burns. Kashmir set ablaze
I can smell the warm blood of beaten corpse
Where from winds bought this smell. Somewhere Karbala reborn.
Mosques are being slammed
There windows stoned. And the black boots leave their footprints on Mimber
Even God judges on evidence
There is one Imaam left now; he hides her daughters in his shadow
A blunt knife in his hands; soon he will sacrifice them to keep their innocence
Kashmir is burning. Kashmir is bleeding
And I write.
Army jeep chases the tracks. To find the associated bodies
They are alive now. Soon they will be dead
From Patan to Sopor, And in narrow passages of nostalgic downtown
Ghosts of curfew
Haunt the houses for young souls.
From the Kupwara cantonments, search lights chase emptiness
Nothing is left now. Search lights can't see inside the graves
A boy there went missing for two days. His father starts digging his grave.
I put my earphones on and I close my eyes. I sleep
While my Kashmir is ablaze
"It's me poor farmer's son. Kupwara's charm, I feel no pain".
I see him so alive in my dreams.
He chants songs of Mahjoor from his burnt lips. My hands shiver. He has no finger nails.
I see his smoke tanned skin. Same as that of Khayam's barbeques
He stands at a distance from me. I can still smell kerosene
"Tell my mother to let her heart become cold. Her heart will not bear my state.
Tell my mother to let her eyes become blind. Her eyes will not withstand my sight."
I follow him towards his tortured body. He tells me to follow the spilled blood.
His blood has made its own Jhelum. I row on it. Until it gets lost in black boots
The story will turn into legend. I find his body no more.
On the streets silence prevails. Nobody has permission to wail.
Sisters are beatifying coffins while brothers look for stones.
For bullets there will be stones
Kashmir is ablaze. She is wailing in grotesque tones.
In Lal Ded hospital a new born cries: Father register me at cantonment then take me out
Death is recruiting in dozens at a time.
Tomorrow is curfew. Death has no curfew pass.
How they want to identity you. Becomes your identity
People burn up all you identity cards.
~Daily Read~
~We Truly Need~
' King David's 23rd Psalm … ' (Classical-Tribute) 61st Senryu
The Brave Should Know Song:
King David's ' 23rd Psalms '
Makes Warriors Stay Strong
Through you I seek to know:
What happened once below?
You ferns of resistance, I see you
Mixing it upward with
A firm stance.
(Such steely green weeds
Do smirk indeed
Above the empty path of horizon's eye,
Blackened to nowhere).
What, though, do I see in you?
(A path lies vacant and wanting,
A land once named upon a dream;
A barren place now daunting,
Neglected and unseen).
Where is your truth?
(Does it rest within your clumsy bud's dance
With a tertiary sky,
Or a raucous from your stem's windward need
To lead)?
Oh No.
I do believe:
It is your roots of defiance!
To know Home in no shame;
To forge through scarred soil with no blame!
Such courage you have:
To reap the shifting tar of fickle men,
And safely hasten away
From the notion of never again!
(Thirty some years have stood and fell
Your quiet presence lives to tell
This hell,
Once known,
As Love's canal).
Oh eager green,
I wish you well.
imcallingjapan will show youtube poets how its done in this poem to
ressurect your own literary saviours like a mediapope
saying aint life tweet
internet poetry corner speed dating coffeeshops
to find the right music making software versus free liabilities
take your time thanking me for showing you
how to be a success
at your photobucket slideshows
like a myspace objecttocrave
stumble upon my techno porn like a god of funk
it can be done
notes on notes of notes
to sing the songs of a thousand birds sing
vote after vote after vote of life changing abstract dreams
80 families waiting to cash in on their paintings
and now you can thank me for your exposure
as i stumble upon the deck stacked in my favor
to meet the people who inspired me like a poetrypoem friend
met through a shadowfiend
easy as pie
recipe for success
this candid camera screw up kissing our nightmares goodbye
Your dumb if you dont work on this
to cash in on your talkents wether through hallmark, music, or advertising
your welcome
like a hollywood lemonaid stand for the people who made the most lemons
out of lifes lemonaid
Bold is the heart of the adventure, seekers of the undiscovered
Frontiers beyond the realm of mankind's knowledge. Hardy, bulling
Figures the unafraid, the uninitiated these spirited wilderness men.
Of epic proportions whom challenge fate, and defy death itself.
Railing against its white rapids of the unknown.
Hailing their indifference by yelling at the top of their lungs,
We will not surrender until the ending of our final journey,
Has come and consumes us utterly, leaving nothing left
But footnotes at the bottom of historical records dusty pages
Behind as our only existing legacy.
The great serpent snake of the Amazon, crawls through the open
Belly wound of the Brazilian rainforest, splitting the devils dark
Jungle in half, a beckoning demon calling unto the heart
Of the adventurer come explore me if you so dare.
Adversities freedom stalkers, heeded this challenge,
Grappling at the serpents tributaries rattling tail, biting
And spitting at them, with sufferage's malice, the reptile
Of aquatic distain, cost many lives of the innocent in its
Vengeance aftermath.
In this river of doubt called the Rio da Duvida,
This vipers poison travels fast through the veins of mortal
Men, starvation, Malaria and the mistrust of others destroys
The flesh from within and from without.
Leaving spiritual wounds that will never heal no matter the
Strength of one's faith, or the endurance of the individual
Whom survives the attack of this snake called
The mighty Amazon River.
Three adventures made it through this black jungle of death,
Theodore Roosevelt's, his son Kermit, and the leader
Of this historical group Mr. Rodon.
After reading about their story of bravery, I the author
Of this tail have one thing to say in their memory, bully
Gentlemen, and on wards unto your next journey's adventure,
And may its endings final current find you well at the end.
< hes my banker and my heads horseman
calling bounty on anothers land
hark the herald angels
I think this game is swell
now thimble owes me sixty five grand
Written by Katherine Stella
Entry For Judy Konos's
Monopoly The Game Of Life Contest
G.L. All
King Leonidas 300 and Counting
It was 480 BC
King Leonidas with 300 Spartan warriors held Thermopylae Pass
Fought against the vast immortals horde of Persian forces
Lasted and endured the Xerxes army
3 days with 4,000 allied strong for Greece
Resisting the first 2 days in mighty battle
With only 1500 strong
The third and final day belonged to Xerxes
Leonidas lost 299 of his men to battle
His allies also perished
In the Persian wave of death that day
The Gate Awaits
Derivatives of angled forces bent on destiny
Armored warriors spears and shields in hand
In V shape lined to face the demon foe
With swords extended confront a morbid horde
Certain death to follow
They stream upon their vile inhumanity
Through history and to this very mortal day
Nourished ground with noble blood
To spring our civilization forth
That which flows through time forever in our veins
For freedom…. never sleeps…but pulses toward the light
That final perfect design which defines us
They are the souls of history
300 marched and died there in the sands
Xerxes in his promise to erase all memories of Greece's fame
To destroy all poetry and poets (for that alone he should die)
Now sleeps, the demon that he is, forever
In an unknown grave
And even I cannot pronounce or spell his name
The Bible Itself, Explains Itself (2 Pet. 1: 20)
Explains It Better, Than Anyone Else
Once, It's Taken Off The Shelf
& Explore Complete Message Left
The Bible Tells, Which Words Are Allegorical (Rev. 1: 1)
The Bible Tells, Which Verses Are Metaphorical (Lu. 8: 10)
The Bible States Which Are Proverbs Or Parables (Lu. 15: 3)
& The Bible Tells, What To Take Literal (Matt. 24: 6, 34)
Noah & The Ark: Is That Allegorical Too?
& The Rainbow: Was That Just A Metaphorical View?
& The Apocalypse Vision: Will It Do What It Says Will Do?
Even Symbolic, Revelation Is A Literal Warning For You
66 Little Holy Books: Sacred-Lesson-Libraries (Heb. 4: 12) (2 Tim. 3: 16, 17)
66 Detailed-Tablets: Devout, Divine Documentaries
66 Spirit Inspired Scrolls: Authorized Manu-Scripturally (2 Pet. 1: 20, 21)
66 Recorded-Notes: A Matter Of Life & Death- Must Reads (Matt. 24: 38, 39) (2 Pet. 3: 5-7)
Some Bible Scholars, Only Point Out Cynic Commentaries
& Passages That They Find Arbitrary
But It's Real Faith Whose Tongue Speak It's Vocabulary
& It Takes Holy Spirit, To Clear Up Disparity (1 Cor. 2: 10, 11)
It Takes Holy Spirit To Find Facts, Necessary (John 14: 26)
& It Is Prophecies, That Makes This Book So Noteworthy
It Takes GOD's Power To Fulfill Prophecy-Itinerary
It Takes The Power Of GOD … To Grasp Its Entirety!
(OK, I Got The Gloves-Off, I'm Punching It's Enemies!)
& The World Has Spurned It … They've Burned It!
They've Refused To Have Learned It
& Have Even Tried To Turn It !
(God's Anger, Yes, They've Earned It!)
They've Bashed It … They've Trashed It!
Claimed, Human-Knowledge Has Surpassed It!
Humph ! … Theirs Won't Outlast It
When God, Has Finally 'Had It !'
The Bible Itself, Tells You What It Means
Stop Messing With Sentences Of The Supreme
Don't Get Caught Up In Fault-Finding Pretext
Don't Take Words, Out Of Context
Look At The Surrounding Story Verse
Soon, Confusion Will Start To Disperse
Remember, Jesus Said To Keep Seeking (Matt. 7: 7)
So Wait, 'Til You've Heard The Whole Thing Speaking !
I Have Read The Whole Blessed Word
& GOD Spoke, In Each Word I Heard
No, MoonBee Doesn't Hear Voices
MoonBee Just Hears … Which Choices !
Remember That Ethiopian Eunuch
Who Questioned Phillip, Who Knew It
Eunuch Said, 'I Don't Understand, Walk Me Thru It
Since You Ran Beside My Chariot To Do It
& Man Can't Live By Bread Alone, Said Christ
A Metaphor, But It Was A Real Man & Advice!
It's bout to get worse
It was written in the verse
The truth hurts
When the time comes
No one's gonna hold up a sign
saying it's time to "get right"
It's gone come like a thief in the night!
Blowin' up and wreckin ish!
The war you want is the war you gone get
It was written before our time
We keep looking at the signs
manifest before our very eyes
constantly denying our right
to be one of the meek ones of our time
We're at the end of what used to be existence
Every super power will answer to a higher power
so pray repentence
The time is closer than any distance
From Washington to Obama
No one will escape the wrath!
Hope you choose the right path!
Narrow is the gate of the righteous tracks
that are imprented on the mind of the omnipotent one
Will you be spared life on earth with the meek ones
and accurately take in knowledge of his son?
OR will you perish in the dust
never to be awakened again?
No consciousness of sin
It's in the verses
Read it, see it, live it, rehearse it
You see the times changing
You see the minds fading
You see the world and how messed up it is
You see that nigga satan and his curses!
I pray to have a chance to live a beautiful paradise on earth like it say in the verses!
Over 200 years of oppression
Now days are we paying for our transgressions
Doing slavery we used our bravery
Breaking the chains doing the inhumane suffering and pain
While being disrespected by being called ambiguous names
Tubman took us through the underground
Old spirituals and praising the Lord was our sound
Douglass reformed abolitionist as he became free
While up North he read poetry by Phillis Wheatley
Sojourner was all about telling the truth
While W. B. Dubois taught us about our history, is that enough proof
These heroes and activist trail blazed the way
They put their faith and trust in God every day
When racial tension became too extreme Father God gave us Malcolm X and Dr. King
Why doesn't it feel like that the freedom bell still rings?
America has an unapologetic past
A dark cloud of racial hatred has been casted
There is no respect for what has been done
Our ancestors raised their voices and fist, while our youth has loaded their guns
From our past history we were showed how to lead
But we have to encourage with God's love to our new techno-media breed
In unity and peace on bended knees we have to constantly pray
So come together as one, "Let's Lead the Way"
"He who cannot be a good follower cannot be a good leader." -Aristotle
Uncle Sam's Hokey Pokey
l l l l l
ya' put your red flag in
put your red flag out
put your red flag in
and ya'
shake it all around.
* * *
ya' stop this hocus pocus
and we'll turn this thing around
end war's what it's all about!
Morning rays unfolding
like fingers formed
Trace the far-reaching dreams
To awaken the sleeping children
To recognize the dawn
Of the new world
There were promises made
that shall not be broken
Rest assured
That there's going to be
Some major changes made
Weeping and mourning
Will be no more ...
Pain and sickness
Will cease to exist...
No famine in the lands
Feeble minds will be
Granted wisdom from above
This is for the betterment of mankind
So, rest assured dear friends
Believe me when I tell you
There's a new day coming.
Why is it that school's say that they are preparing you for life,
But really they are preparing you for more school?
Who knows?
That has always been on mind for the past few days.
*comment if you know why or if you have any ideas*
The English weather:
Rainclouds follow us from home
There is no escape.
To be English above all is not just a given, from the beginnings of time to the new world position.
It is of bravery and honour that has built the empire we know, that no matter what we may face no matter how big the enemy or challenge we will not quiver we shall not shudder nor walk away, our upper lip will remain stiff and the lions heart our enemy will feel in protection of Queen and country.
In a world of corruption and deceit, floundering morals as sources try to wash them away, inside this mayhem will always lay a loyal army to her Majesty and country that will fight tooth and nail to protect.
No matter the hatred or non believers we shall not fall.
The most powerful family in the world that has ruled through generations of change and is echoed through the story of time this is my promise to you your Majesty we will always be here waiting on your every word to follow and serve as your loyal army.
May GOD save the Queen and protect her people through time,
For we are ENGLAND . . full of love . . . full of Pride!
A floating grand duchess of her time,
Moored and held captive, by chains of elegance.
The great lady, holds her head up high, with prides honor,
Befitting such as her station allows, behold she is the
Queen Mary, monarch of the seven seas, christened by royal
Command, notabilities finest vintage, blessed this her hollowed bow,
None other would do, for thy majesty, opulence's marvelous diamond,
A jeweled liner, representing prosperity's golden age of fortune.
Fallen have her sister ships, beneath the God Poseidon's unmerciful wrath.
She sheds a tear, on their behalf, and curtsy's with grandeur's grace.
As foam to spray, sending sorrows haunting blessing,
To thee, my lost comrades, I so do miss, forever thy shining luster,
Gems of rare clarity's brilliance, will be remembered, in the maritime
Log book of historical acclaim.
I'll never forget thee, my sisters of the heart, carried is this message,
By swiftest currants tides, to the briny depths below.
Gracious madam, residing on the international stage of fame,
What secrets do they hold, beneath thy haul, though thy ports
Looking glass, many ghostly images do walk, your empty corridors,
Phantom voices do echo, within forgotten passages, of your
Yesteryear's younger days of yore.
Mistress of intrigue, enchantress of mystery, a masked diva,
Hidden beneath celebrity's face of beauty, decor and
Design, textures layers delicately placed to entice the sight
And mind.
Legacy's last link to the past, she is of a shipping dynasty,
Of epic true titanic sized giants, vessels of statement,
To a culture built upon the value, bigger means better,
A classification that was doomed from the start.
Yet she can still dazzle us, with her romantic Victorian
Charm, always the lady hiding behind a veil of mystery,
Waving her silken fan of desire, to solve the unsolvable,
A trait of humanity is curiosity, to play with fire,
And in the end to get burnt by the flame.
A relic damsel in no distress, a vessel of olden days,
Bravo I say, we need such as she, to give life our life
Excitement, after all is it not the thrill of the chase,
That drives mankind forever forward.
Book my passage than, I'll board the next voyage,
And walk the plank for my own precious prides sake alone.
Call all aboard captain, for the queen of the seven seas,
For she is the queen Mary, held captive by chains of elegance,
A rare gem, in her own right that still shines.
Now, there's time to think!
Write your thoughts of Civil Rights.
Share your "dream" with us…..
I wished to improve on my character so,
I looked for a model to go by.
I studied the habits of men great and tall,
For one who seemed perfect in my eyes.
Men of fine profile and manly physique,
Were the first ones to cross my inspection,
First also dismissed for their physical charms,
Seemed all they had worth admiration;
And those who had money and power were wont,
To flaunt their importance and style,
An hour or two in this comp'ny could last,
A person a long, long while;
And so I explored yet another route,
The highway to high education,
Perhaps here I would find the virtuous man,
One worthy of my adulation.
I read through the tomes of scholars and scribes,
Philosophers, poets and statesmen,
And I never found a doctrine more sound,
Than the one left behind by Ben Franklin.
Benjamin Franklin
1706 - 1790
A statesman and scientist he was also quite a philosopher.
He was considered to be one of the most important figures of his day having been given
the dubious honor of being asked to sign the Declaration of Independence along with many other great men of that era; making him one of our Founding Fathers.
In doing so he showed great courage because all who signed had a price placed on their
heads by the Crown of England for treason.
He spent his life in search of knowledge continuously trying to improve himself.
He had the ability to see and recognize his own faults and tried to do something about them. That is something not many people can do. It's also the reason he had few if any real enemies.
A person could do a whole lot worse than to try to imitate his style.
1. Do Muslims believe he was a Messenger of One God? YES
Belief in all of the Prophets and Messengers of God is a fundamental article of faith in Islam. Thus, believing in Prophets Adam, Jesus, Moses, and Muhammad (peace and blessings be upon them) is a requirement for anyone who calls him or herself a Muslim. A person claiming to be a Muslim who, for instance, denies the Messengership of Jesus, is not considered a Muslim.
The Quran says in reference to the status of Jesus as a Messenger:
"The Messiah (Jesus), son of Mary, was no more than a Messenger before whom many Messengers have passed away; and his mother adhered wholly to truthfulness, and they both ate food (as other mortals do). See how We make Our signs clear to them; and see where they are turning away!" (Quran 5:75).
2. Do Muslims believe he was born of a Virgin Mother? YES
Like Christians, Muslims believe Mary, Maria in Spanish, or Maryam as she is called in Arabic, was a chaste, virgin woman, who miraculously gave birth to Jesus.
"Relate in the Book the story of Mary, when she withdrew from her family, to a place in the East. She screened herself from them; then We sent to her Our spirit (angel Gabriel) and he appeared before her as a man in all respects. She said: I seek refuge from you in God Most Gracious (come not near) if you do fear God. He said: Nay, I am only a Messenger from your Lord, to announce to you the gift of a pure son. She said: How shall I have a son, when no man has ever touched me, and I am not unchaste? He said: So it will be, your Lord says: 'That is easy for Me; and We wish to appoint him as a sign unto men and a Mercy from Us': It was a matter so decreed" (Quran 19:16-21).
3. Do Muslims believe Jesus had a miraculous birth? YES
The Quran says:
"She (Mary) said: 'O my Lord! How shall I have a son when no man has touched me.' He (God) said: 'So (it will be) for God creates what He wills. When He has decreed something, He says to it only: 'Be!'- and it is" (3:47).
It should also be noted about his birth that:
"Verily, the likeness of Jesus in God's Sight is the likeness of Adam. He (God) created him from dust, then (He) said to him: 'Be!'-and he was" (Quran 3:59).
4. Do Muslims believe Jesus spoke in the cradle? YES
"Then she (Mary) pointed to him. They said: 'How can we talk to one who is a child in the cradle?' He (Jesus) said: 'Verily! I am a slave of God, He has given me the Scripture and made me a Prophet; " (19:29-30).
(To All Who Believe It Can Be Achieved)
Caucasoid, Mongoloid,and Negroid
Colour the conscience progression
of Man's ethical Truths...
The cultural aggressions of violence
and ignorance must end!
Extend your heart, hand and life
Towards the Precious Don of Honour...
Freely, keeping the sincere
Brotherly Creed
Comments: Brothers and Sisters it is time that we stand up and let the Love of God in, after
all we are all one in the same under the skin, so why not give it a grand try... One Love and
Many Blessings in Him Always, Adell
White capped peaks, set a calming essence's surroundings,
A hushed place of peaceful contemplation and serenity,
Time stands still here upon Peter's mountain.
In this isolation's retreat from the outside world,
A lone solitary soul, does lean onto his walking staff,
Pondering thoughts of life's past experiences, and
Remembering days, oh not so long ago.
Here this wilderness man, has a freedom that most
Men will never know, in his personal paradise
Of the forest wild.
Living off the land, did he so hack, and chop for himself,
Taking a small portions piece to live upon,
A rustic cabin built in a meadow's glen,
It's more than enough for him.
A trapper's trade, by God's promised blessing,
Does he make a small living's income,
But wealth's gold, lies in them there hills,
Liberation's breath, to be inhaled, day by
Day with no strings attached.
Outside stands one stone, carved by his
Own hand, here lies my wife beloved,
Spring violets lain in hearts respect, unto
Her memory are thus given, as he wipes a
Single tear away, soon dearest in softest tones,
Is spoken by this rugged soul.
The last is he of a dying breed of pioneers,
Those searching for the next grand adventure,
Just over yonder's distant horizon.
Daniel Boone's back pack fever, runs through
The mountain man's reins, and only death's
Blacken trail, can sever their need to roam.
Leaning against the fire place hearth,
Puffing on his corn-comb pipe, this dreamer
Makes peace within himself.
I've lived a good life, had myself a good wife,
Soon I'll join her, God be willing.
Slowly, he sits within the rocking chair,
And closes his eyes one last time,
Allowing his bones to relax once and for all.
White capped peaks, set a calming essence's surroundings,
A hushed place of peaceful contemplation and serenity,
Time stands still here upon Peter's mountain.
A Chance Encounter
A chance encounter the other day
Got me chatting to a stranger
Just for some time to pass away.
He was very well groomed, very smart.
Spoke well too, seemed a decent sort.
I told him a little tale
I had learned whilst at work.
Outside a building that's up for sale
Close to the centre of the town
A queue of people gathered.
Old clothes, hand me downs.
Inside people of good heart and souls
Were behind tables long.
And a kind of soup was poured into bowls.
A slice of bread was added to each one poured.
As the hungry-eyed came through the door.
As each one passed a thank you was heard.
Grateful for the meal today.
A simple reply least we can do.
All was silent no complaints from the poor.
Till a young voice said, 'Please Mummy I want more.'
I sat back in my chair waiting for a reply.
The guy opposite gave a big sigh.
He said, 'Things were tough in those days
Very hard for the poor in the Victorian Age.
They were ignored, did not count,
How could others treat them like that?'
No-one should be without the means I say,
To feed and clothe their children today.
I looked at him and shook my head.
My dear friend you misunderstand
The tale was not yesteryear or a foreign land.
I visited a local food bank the day before last.
And like you I was taken aback.
Unless with my eyes I had seen,
The myth about scroungers I would still believe.
Some get the dregs, others get the cream.
This is Great Britain in 2013.
But the people of our Nation are strong
In times of strife they speak as one.
'We are mighty as Caesar, mighty as Rome.'
People may say that i am a spoiled little brat.
Only becuase they see what they wan't to see.
We all have been through things in our life time that we just want to forget, but we just can't seem to forget.
My mom has put me through many things "but lets not say" in the past. And i have learned from some of those things. It made me a stronger person inside and outside.
I don't know my father at all. I wasn't even born when my mom was around him.
But i have a loving family.
I would never change my past even if i had the chance. Becuase if i did then i wouldn't be
where i am now.
People who are out there that are judging people based on how they act or look, are stupid. Wise up and grow up...
Those people you judge have a GOOD reason for the way they look or act.
And maybe they need some one there to talk to. To get things off their
Just like the saying. "Don't judge a book by it's cover"
*just something that i had to say* :)comment if you have a thought (or fav poem if you like it)*
i don't want to be just marking
time. i died on november 20,
2008, during surgery. i was
on a vent when i awakened
december 2, 2008....my sisters'
birthday. what made me llive
i'll never know. i know there
are things to do on this side
of death.
i have no time for marking time.
i have a stupid bag hanging from
my side now. i am supposed to
"get comfortable with it". well
that was a laugh.
that was a laugh until i thought
of the people that had these
things with no hope of ever
getting away from them.
i am so lucky. 14 days i laid
on a vent, then 22 more.
i came home 3 days,
i had
great pain in my chest...
well this is great i said,
a pulmonary emboli, 15 more
days, three days home.
then back to e.r. blood pressure
too high. this bought me
4 more days in e.r.
i am home now and finally
have spent 19 days home.
i feel every pain and i feel
every time that i feel good
yes, i am never marking
time again.....there is
something about fighting
for your life and your sanity
that straightens things out.
i don't recommend it but
i wish i could let your hearts
know what i know.
Me ….
By Anoush Harrison-Jackson
What's the matter with ME?
Better yet, what's the matter with YOU?
I am comfortable with ME---------
My eloquence, my ethnicity, my social demeanour,
My laughter, my insight, my shortcomings,
My shape, my grace, my pride,
My beliefs, my values, my devotion to my CREATOR
These are the things that COMPOSE me
So what's the matter with ME?
Better yet, what's the matter with YOU?
Don't try to dilute or even defile me with your
Perceptions of how I should be………
Don't try to ridicule or belittle my efforts
In a bid to confine me to where you think I should be— "my place"
Or "my fate" in the society (so-ci-ety)
So what's the matter with ME?
Better yet, what's the matter with YOU?
I am who I am
I'm, simply put, just ME!
Who are you?
Charge! He yelled in Goideli as he led in tribal tribal kilt.
The Celtic warrior advanced
with determined fighting spirit.
Boldly challenging his fears, facing the valiant Saxon struggle,
he prepared for resistance.
He compelled his coercive compulsion
to fight for honor and to become valid.
Mortally wounded in fierce fighting
he accepted his fate, his eminent death.
From the depth of his pain and suffering
he summed his strength and courage.
With one final breath he screamed,
in Gaelic,
"God bless the Irish."
dea dhuit, clanadad eireinnan!
This is a tale for you regarding Pandora and the box.
Here we find an attempt to put back on the lock
A trip back to Alexandria in your mind we must go
Trying to protect but you can't turn back the clock
What had tried to be sealed is not what one expect
Only wanting to keep others from trying to dissect
The library was vast holding knowledge long passed
Gallant was the attempt though evil did misdirect
Someone had already check out these 365 books
See the flames raised high the city did overcook
Spread them north and east so ordered the beast
Because at the Star he did not want you to look
I see perfidy to the fidelity which is replete of your treachery
Too bad we ain't cool, because for you was a melody
About the despicable ingredients that thrive back then
To create aspersions for my heart to grow fat in
You having a back of mine was thought to be perpetual
From grabbing the horns, I saw it was all bull
So when I manifest this light, you shouldn't be in my sight
I'm watching my own back when you enter a fight
No more under the timber, will my name be in December
Forgive and forget the final Thursday of November
Perfidy to the fidelity, I'll always remember
In eternity past, the Father asks the Son to go down.
Having equal Love for humans the "Yes" comes fast.
When Creation leads to time, the world waits for 4 BC
Marking the start of the end of Satan's long rule at last.
Did Satan laugh at the poor setting for Jesus' birth here?
A cry in a cave for animals pierces the night, changing all.
Shepherds worship; later wise kings give precious gifts.
Mary and Joseph marvel, yet Herod's rage soon gives a call.
A call to leave quickly to Egypt where they'll live as refugees.
Sparing the Christ child a merciless death of those under three.
When Herod finally dies, Jesus' parents head back to Israel.
Still not fully safe from mad rule, Nazareth is their destiny.
Here the child will grow to be a man, following His parents rule.
Surprising the Pharisees with His wisdom at 12, at 30 riling them.
Preaching with authority, healing the incurable, loving the humble.
Women weep repenting at his feet; one's healed by touching his hem.
Zacchaeus risks going into a tree and finds Jesus' salvation so free.
Nicodemus comes at night to ask and ends amazed he's met God's Son
The Woman at the Well gets far more vital water than the usual kind.
And many healed can't but tell others of the miracle God has done.
The babe in the manger now stills the storm and his disciples believe
Even seeing the dead arise, like Lazarus in the tomb for four days.
Foretelling a greater rising coming but not before immense suffering.
The sword Mary was told would pierce her heart is soon on its way.
For most religious leaders cannot tolerate Jesus' lack of respect for them.
Calling them whitewashed tombs and pointing pride out to Pharisees.
Not endearing Himself with the establishment, but following God's way.
Knowing soon He'd be betrayed, arrested, tried and tortured brutally.
Still, he calmly feeds them body bread and blood wine in a final feast.
Tells them the Spirit comes, and prays they'd be one like Father and Son.
Heads to the Garden, prays to His Father for another way if possible.
Your will be done ends and the soldiers come and with Judas kiss it's done.
The most pure, innocent Man who's ever lived is now in hostile hands.
A trial by dark without witness or any rights – and off to Pontius Pilate.
Then Herod then back to Pilate whose wife dreamed Jesus was innocent.
But the people's cries to crucify win over – Jesus caught in intrigue's net.
The child of Bethlehem now hung on a Cross between two criminals.
The Light of the World by darkness and our sins is being slowly slain.
Feeling forsaken by God, but then "Into Your hands I commit my spirit."
Reunited and soon to show the world that this Child was no ordinary one.
Risen as Jesus predicted, for how can death conquer everlasting, perfect life?
From childhood to adult not one sin, not once yielding to Satan's temptations.
Proving we can have life eternal if we confess and believe in Jesus as our Savior.
Calling His followers in risen form to await the Spirit and share Christ to the nations
My Favorite Classic T.V. Show
A classic t.v. show that I thought
was fun and silly.
Was one I watched as a child:
"The Beverly Hillbillies."
There was Jed. Granny.
Jethro and Elly May too.
You just didn't know what these
folks were going to do!
Granny would offer possum pie
or some "vittles."
There was no tellin' what she was
fixin' in her griddle!
This family would "dance a jig."
Or even "sing a song.
And then they would all gather around
"the cement pond."
It didn't seem to matter what was served
on the dinner plate.
Ole Jethro would never get full.
No matter how much he ate!
Elly loved to have her many
animals in the home.
No matter where she went.
She was never alone!
This Clampett family brought joy
through our t.v.
I still watch this show.
But just occasionally.
This classic show is from
a time in the past.
But it still brings good memories
that will always last!
By Jim Pemberton
"The Beverly Hillbillies"
Harsh winds blow from a baron frozen land,
Of ice and snow.
Exhaling Nordic gods breath a chilling mist
An eerie foggy vapor creeping along the
Waters aquatic edge.
Rages angry seas lap against the wooden
Hauls as battle harden men brace for impact
Waves crack tarring asunder splinters oaken shell.
Yet these Icelandic warriors laugh at death,
Savoring it's flavor, and relishing their own bloods
Taste upon salted lips.
The devils seed lives within them, these
Barbaric conquerors known to history as the vikings
By Thor's mighty hammer does strike thus,
Against the anvils rough hewed edge.
Sparks fly igniting thunder and lightening below
Splitting apart the very heaven's themselves,
Odin exposes a distant horizons far off shore.
Hear the oarsmen drumming, a pounding,
It's hastening beat the inner heart of this vessel
Foretelling hells army will soon arrive,
At early morning highest tide.
Whom shall stand after this storm hits land fall.
The sword unsheathed will take vengeance fill
With it's blade dipped an ink well of blood.
No treaty signed can stop history's mighty wrath
Feel hot Norse breath upon your neck oh roman.
Seek thy brothers kinsman's council for
Safety's sake alone.
Fears children hide beneath a gray cloak of innocence.
Illusions shelter of falsehoods arrogance delusion,
Believing the walls of roman shall never fall.
A dark shadow is cast over thy world of glittering
Gold a plunders treasure chest a shinning example
For glistening ripening to fill ill gotten
Gains empty hauls.
What price to pay for lies deceit, it's brilliance
Calls forth a trumpeting, a sounding for
Deaths comforting.
Valhalla gates open wide, to welcome
Vanquished heroes unto the neither world.
While Romanian drink deeply from deaconesses
Bloody cup.
The Vikings sing a victory song and voyage on
And Odin smile down upon his people
With pride's honor restored.
When I was just a little boy
Aged seven I had so much joy
In Commander Job I was so fond
He was Ian Fleming's James Bond
A war hero, he's the real McCoy
* When I was seven years old, I had the privilage of staying with
Patrick Dalzel-Job, feel free to copy and paste his link *
In the historical archives, many trails have led to
The making of a legend, those born with the pioneer spirit
Of individuality, bred deeply within their soul.
Such was this man we called, Mr. President, Theodore Roosevelt.
A cowboy rough rider, whom wrangled his way with true
Grits fight, making his way to the oval office round-up in
Washington, DC,
Thus America's pride, was alive within Teddy's wild heart.
This wilderness environmentalist, who's grand vision,
Had the foresight to leave a wondrous gift behind him.
To a nation beloved by him, this honorable man,
Bestowed his legacies inheritance for future generations,
To enjoy forever, the green valley's known as the
National Parks and National forests.
A nation's founding father, his face indubitably
Engrained, into solid granites bed rock, on the exterior of
Mount Rushmore, so does it bare witness, to this presidents
Greatness unto posterity.
A rugged individualist, believing in the fair deal policy,
For all men, should all have the same rights and liberties.
Theodore did so carry a big stick, but spoke softly,
In the foreign policy arena, thus receiving the Noble Peace Prize.
Drive did he, the stake of progress across the raw landscape
Of Cuba, creating a man made wonder, called the Panama Canal.
But if asked Theodore Roosevelt's greatest achievement,
Was the raising of his children, and living life to it's
Fullest depth's degree.
A grievice day, to lose one such as he, but this man
Whom loved adventure, looked at the death as only
The beginning of another chapter's turning of a page,
Beyond lies another horizon's sunset to be explored.
Don't cry at the loss of one such as myself,
Shed no tears, yet raise a toast instead, on my behalf,
Celebrate how I lived, and for the little accomplishments
I've left behind.
For in this way Theodore Roosevelt wished to be
Remembered and the greatest tribute of all.
< symbolic ~ icon
representing .... Red ~ White ~ Blue
the ~ Great ~ Bald ..... Eagle
Tribute To
The Bald Eagle
I am so proud to be from a country,
That makes life so easy to live;
Where your allowed to disagree,
It's all about take and give;
Where you can talk about anything,
Without worrying about getting abused;
It's not a monarchy, so we aren't scared of a king,
And no firing squad if we are accused;
I'm so happy to be from a place,
That has the freedom of speech;
And even though life's a rat race,
Nothing is out of my reach;
We have so many privileges and rights,
If we want to own a gun, we can;
Nothing to stop us if we stay out all night,
It's been that way since it began;
A country founded on Liberty,
Justice, and Independence for all;
A country where I'm allowed to be Me,
And dreams come true, no matter how small!
Growing up was hard for me,
I think i grew up to soon,
I had to take charge in the big brother role,
But also i had to take hold to the father role somehow.
My mom was the only one who was there for her children,
We knew that she loved us,
She was in love with my father but he wasn't faithful,
So she found someone else who showed her true love.
My siblings never truly understood it,
I tried my best to encourage them to behave,
Which they listened but to a certain point,
Finally my mom married her true love and the caos began.
My father tried to step back in the picture,
My siblings began to side with my father not knowing the seriousness,
I decided to talk to them one-on-one but neither of them listened,
They wanted for my mom and father to be together.
One day my mother sat them down,
Telling them the hurt and pain she experienced with my father,
She explain to them the whole nine yards,
They understood then and began looking at my father differently.
Getting to the stage of middle school,
We began to see less of our father,
It was his choice...not ours,
He wouldn't call for our birthdays or holidays,
So we leaned mostly on our step-father,
They wouldn't accept him as father,
He would do all he could for us,
But instead the only one(s) who really let him be a father figure was me and the
youngest brother.
My step-father loves my mom and has been there for her going on Fifteen years.
He is a firm talk like he's a policeman or something,
But he is a nice person.
My mom loves him and so do we.
So this is a message for all of the children out there who has a no good father....if
your mom has a man or husband, please treat him right because he is there to
protect your mom and you all. Thanks for listening!!
amid shackles and ropes
with fire burning
hatred into eyes
a child stood
without understanding
seeing tears wet
on mama's cheeks
and papa's goodness
spread hatefully
upon tracks
displayed as flags
of their righteousness
worth descended
into slavery
of white opinions
placed on heads
bleeding into
expressed in violence
he grew to become
the hate
that hate produced
with a fierce
to offer freedom
for all peoples
who suffered at the hands
of racist oppressors
by any means
became the creed
adopted from years
of watching whites
cover their crimes
with veiled innocence
what is not given
must be demanded
for to suffer
in silence
is complicity
to accept
is stupidity
to do nothing
is cowardice
and he was none of these
no one race
is divine
only God is thus
and so he stood, tall
against all those
who deemed him
taking his seat
at the table
of humanity
demanding to be fed
as all humans
have an inalienable right to
demanding that truth
be served
on large platters
for the world to consume
for where there is truth
lies can not hide
and hope is born
into minds and
in his life he struggled
to find that light
but in time
he stepped into it
basking in its glow
ready to shine
on a world
still shadowed in
hate's darkness
but he would pay
the price for dreams
with his life
yet the price
was never too high
for the dream lived on
and thrived
giving birth
to a future
that he marked
with his
Bow the great dragons, unto the mighty,
Ruler under heaven.
The divine master's iron heel, lies upon the
Serpents neck.
For brilliance illusion a golden throne shines,
Blinding those whom refuse to see the truth.
The trail leading unto the river of blood,
Streaming across a ruined country side.
Striking powers scepter against angers,
Weakest point his own peoples innocent
How did this tyrant usurper create such,
Beauty with arrogance strangle hold??
A rampaging tiger tightly grappling,
All ends of a concord nation.
Tarring it's inner seams until it bleeds,
Internally leaving it unable to breathe.
Push wide the ancient gates, and behold,
The forbidden city of crimson red.
Sky pillars an archway, holding seemingly,
Up the very heaven's themselves.
In awed amazement beneath the great steps
Of China towards Beijing's southern most edge.
Lies a glittering palace, of opulence greedy design.
Honor bound at royal bidding's commend,
Living china dolls, porcelain ladies of finest
Quality, his majesty's playthings.
Green emerald eyes, flash enticing mortals,
To venture beyond safety's threshold.
Meet certain doom for those whom,
Trifled between temptations desire to satisfy,
Lusts insatiable thirsts.
Or honors sacred trust between master and servant.
The lion guards his holy temple ready to strike,
With sharp talons drawn.
Drinking the blood of his vanquished enemies.
But falls unto shame as blackness vail descends
Casting his dark soul unto the four winds of
Even in deaths wake, split by thunder, and
Lightning's mighty quake.
Doesn't the poised hood cobra lie in wait
To protect this his sacred garden,
In the land of the rising sun.
Sararmis fotograflar gencligim
Merhabayla gune kavusan
Selam i gune dogan bir acili kahvede
Bulusan dostlugu kadir unutulmaz mahelle
Simdi kaldi siyah beyaz fotograflar
Simdi kaldi anilar yaslanmis olmus dostlar
Korktumda kactim girdabindan
Senle sensiz bir hic...
Poyrazin ve lodosun sessizce isiltisini mehtabin
Ruzgarlari vurur odama dinlerim hikayelerini
Sesi sesim unutulmus siyah beyaz fotograflar
An azure ocean
Displaced by mighty blackness
The horizon dies
Vanity Upon Vanity
Morning arrives...
Evening takes over
Can't the day stops changing?
Mother born you...
You gave birth to us
Where are your ancestors?
Graveyard here calls...
Your family now run
Why do they stop to love?
i don't wanna sit here
in the garden, without you
i don't want to be here
falling apart, waiting for you
cause i'm sick and tired
of existing here, without you dear
hanging onto nothing, hoping for something
we're not adam and eve
oh why can't you see
how much i need you
so hard to believe
yet cannot conceive
how much i love you
i won't say sorry
doesn't mean a damn thing
cause you don't love me
we can never be
i'm not gonna stand here
all evening, without a clue
i'm not gonna be here
sweetheart, bleeding just for you
cause i'm sick and tired
of burning here, without you dear
hanging onto nothing, hoping for something
we're not adam and eve
oh why can't you see
how much i need you
so hard to believe
yet cannot conceive
how much i love you
i won't say sorry
doesn't mean a damn thing
cause you don't love me
we can never be
you're not adam,
more like the snake
you're the phantom,
that haunts me
you can't be adam
more like the snake
you're the phantom,
ripping my heart away
we're not adam and eve
oh why can't you see
how much i need you
so hard to believe
yet cannot conceive
how much i love you
i won't say sorry
doesn't mean a damn thing
cause you don't love me
we can never be
< earth ~ third planet from sun
liquid and iron ~ cores
continents ~ islands ~ pun
arctic icing ~ drips pores
wind ~ natures own fury
flow gasses ~ bulk movements
storm ~ hurricane ~ jury
place in pocketbook ~ dent
fire ~ oxidation
combustion ~ releasing
heat ~ light ~ good ~ tar nations
pollution ~ choking ~ thing
water ~ called H2O
oxygen ~ hydrogen
evaporation ~ goes
will exceed supply ~ when ?
earth ~ wind ~ fire ~ water
Nature's elements ~ sure
Entry For
Barbara Gorelick's
The Four Elements Contest
G.L. All
His voice is as a still whisper, a hushed sigh
Rippling through the evergreen mountain pines,
A spiritual being calls in native tongue, come unto
Me, my chosen people of the sacred plains.
The drums beat in the setting sun, as the tribes
Join together in one bands march, the Dakota, Shoshoni
And Cherokee, these wondering nomads, of the open plains.
It is time for the great migrational transitioning,
Heeding the great spirits, seasonal warning,
These tribal gypsies, become a unified people, of the vast
United beneath the vast grasslands Prairie.
Instincts driving force urges them ever forward,
Across steeps terrain, and rolling hills, deep canyons
Depths divides, onto the open plains,
For soon the great buffalo will arrive.
To bowl and cup, do they carry all possession
Necessities, leaving behind only Mohicans prints,
In the dust.
Legacy's children play, and run beside the caravan's,
As warriors on horse back, boast of adventures
Of seasons long ago.
Mile markers of trails woven into the earth itself,
The wilderness wild country lies ahead, in this big
North American Continent, yet undiscovered by
The so called civilized white men.
At night falls rest, a small village emerges, where
Nothing stood sense last years grand journey.
Canvas tents, fill with families warmth and laughter
For freedoms people, live by the great spirits calling.
In ritual dance, do these indigenous tribe give thanks
And praise unto he whom provides substances life,
And liberation's autonomy.
As the suns rises and dawn approaches, the earth rumbles,
Shaking, beneath the hardened hoof, thy brother the buffalo,
Has come once again, the promise kept, assuring
The tribes winter survival.
Evergreen's pastures, lure these creatures of thunder,
Ancient beasts covering the great plains, as a black
Cloud descending, as if massive locus's onto
The flowering fields below.
The hunters rejoice in the abundance set before
Them, the harvest of meat and blessings promise,
Taking only what is needed, wasting nothing,
Yet giving thanks praise for everything.
' Carpenter's Rule … ' 54th Senryu
' HE ' … Is Not A Fool
Can Not Use GOD, Like A Tool ...
Carpenter's Gold-Rule
Feel the winds of change, dear friend,
They are a blowing.
Brethren beneath a common cause,
Kindred spirits, gather united.
To stand tall against opposing
Yet we remain strong survivors,
Of justice and right.
Adversity challenges indifference,
It is so written good shall over,
Come evil.
The truth within us all shines,
Humanity achieves enlightenment.
Ignorance shadow fades in
Reality's view,
Life relishes difference,
Freedom flies soaring mankind,
Towards a higher plain.
What a magnificent future,
Lies ahead of us.
Individuality blossoms, fulfillment,
Becomes a human right.
Forgiveness, compassion, and mercy,
Shall be theirs at last.
Let no mans options to believe,
Dismay conscious choice,
Carry the banner of beliefs no matter,
What the cost or price.
Your inner self reflection captures,
Truths mirror image.
Acknowledge separate half's,
Making one complete being.
Behold his name is called,
Social exceptions.
Resolves concussions shows a,
Brilliant phoenix rising,
From hatred's ashes.
It spreads deliverance's wings,
Embracing a majestic legacy.
The clear pictures, taken by the satellite orbiting around Mars
for over a decade, have finally arrived here and fascinated us.
The Sphinx head in Egypt and the one on Mars have many veritable similarities...
wouldn't you agree? But who built the one the Red Planet: the extraterrestrials?
Leave that to the imagination, or try to solve the mystery of the ancients;
now, don't assume that life will be found there despite those striking images.
Although scientists speculate that Mars has water, only facts are a true possibility;
no assumption can come close to such a reality, if it hasn't been explored entirely.
Until NASA builds another spaceship and sends more brave astronauts into space,
we must hold our breath,...'till they return with proof of another extraordinary race.
< once there was an old cat named chessur
only listened to alice for sure
but sometimes dissappeared
and left behind grins smear
so I've gone mad and shaved off hides fur
Entry For Debbie Guzzi's
Go Ask Alice Contest
G.L. All
With very great pride
Haman stood high
Wants power....
It's the third verse,
I got the urge to purge
All the curt words I've splurged,
I've submerged in sin,
I'll go to church repent,
Then go curse again,
Lets reverse this trend
We nurse tolerance,
When it might offend,
If I white wash my fence,
So try to not get tense,
When I do not defend,
Those who chose to be dense
And not use their two cents,
To show kids the reverence,
For the pledge of allegiance.
Democracy nears
For unknown Arab countries
Angry Arabs yell
Suicide bomber
Islam, Religion of peace
Perhaps when they're free
The Crowed Goes wild
Egypt you are next in line
Democracy nears
Great Spirit here come I in humble prayer
child of your Bedonkohe blood and line.
I raise my hands to recognize you there
and plea you recognize this heart of mine.
I know you welcome all into your light
And let my way, as through this death I go,
Be swift and sure, if bad or good or right
As certain as blood of Geronimo.
Look! Is my line not tied to what's his past?
And does this not bring us our only choice
To bide amongst the tribe from out our past?
To gather in your light, and raise one voice
Of this, our song, our voices unified
And handed down through time, where we have cried.
...............© Ron Wilson
Another very special Sonnet that just wrote itself through me...where do they come from? And how?
< once there was a redhead gal name lucy
now skit comes to mind is real juicy
job switching with the men
conveyer belt takes a spin
chocolate oh how did she loosey
Entry For Shani Fassbender's
Favorite Television Show / Episode Remembered
I Chose I Love Lucy
Written By Katherine Stella 7/1/11
Ancient science launches research towards new technology
Learning new disciplines to increase the power of their patron
Creating new magics; generating spendable gold from lead
Hinting at greater knowledge hidden in the realms of men
Evolving sciences increase the expertise of kingdom soldiers
Machines, potions and tactics to defeat enemies of the king
Yesterday's mysteries leading the world toward today's reality
A Comrade like Ben
A statesman like Mandela diplomatically
suspended the necessary struggle of opposites,
gummed his fragmented land together with reconciliation….
exploiters to exploited , murderers to martyrs
imperialist to invisibled indigenes
lives in Sandton and councils Bill Clinton
and Naomi Campbell on plush carpets
a sinewy activist, hard as nails, like yourself…
Ben Palmer Louw, always
beautiful in your pregnant concern
that freedom , dignity and justice
is tangible and beautiful as black skin, kinky hair
is real when a continent's wealth is fairly shared
is manifested when the state collapses in selfless deeds
old man Nelson turned ninety and is now a teddy
to those who feared the terrorist at forty.
He no longer speak for himself but for his party
and the party is a self-serving affair.
Pity your death at thirty-something
when Nelson started talking to his racist oppressors.
For ten years you and your young militant army
punctured holes in the racist ideology,
marched flames and thunder through townships,
died in your thousands,
stopping with blood and bones
bullets casted for centuries by the fascist
in black holes of greed and fear.
"A shame … but subversion is to blame "
`` the defenders of law and order loudly exclaimed
"Not good for business"…the moneybags conceded
" if Soweto bleeds , profit –rates receeds . "
"Give black chiefs and compradors the garrotte
and stick the small change of capital under their nose .
They will throttle the radical noises at the root ".
Wounded deeply, your rapid-firing baritone voice
still thundered on battle-fields and in halls,
urging us to destroy mental and wage slavery.
I saw you fight for freedom
the whole scorching way,
every hour of that long bloody apartheid day…
but one night
you leaped ,
proud black brother of mine,
right into the sky…
fist raised high as heaven with a two-hour smile
whispering re-assuringly "Don't ever give up, gents…
the harder they come , the harder they fall.
See… brothers and sisters…revolution is!
In memory and respect to Ben Palmer Louw (1950-1987)a student leader of 1976 soweto insurrection
This is my impression of Elvis Presley
I was vey lucky to be 16 in 1956 when Rock and roll came into existence the greatest music of all time and for all time, this is what it all met to me.
Elvis was the big bang to creating music like the big bang was to creating the universe
Before Elvis their was no rock and roll, no music, no dancing
His look was unique
His movements on stage were unique
His voice was the greatest like nothing ever heard before
His songs started the greatest music craze in the history of music rock and roll
He looked dangerous
He looked like he was having the best time of his life on stage
Elvis didn't give a damm who wrote his songs black or white
He was the first entertainer who did it all before anyone else did anything
Both men and women loved him
Elvis was a mans man
Elvis was a ladies man
Elvis was a gentleman
Elvis was a Christian
Elvis was a momma's boy
Elvis was respectful of his fans
Elvis was just one man who changed music forever in America in 1956
When Elvis sings you have to smile, to tap your feet, clap your hands, move your body, and come alive
It's 2013, 35 years since Elvis died
He is still the major Icon of the music world
Elvis is still the most worshiped singer and entertainer in history
Thousands and thousands of fans visit his home each and every year
Elvis didn't smoke or drink
Elvis became an actor but could have become an accomplished actor with the right people and advice around him
Coronel Parker was both good for Elvis and bad for Elvis
Liberace taught Elvis how to dress with flash
Elvis had his own way of moving on stage when he sang no one has ever duplicated his signature moves God know how many tried
Elvis served the country he loved when he was drafted into the army no complaining
Elvis asked fro no special treatment while in the army
Elvis loved the woman and the woman loved him back
Elvis was the greatest entertainer of all time
Elvis met his tragic and to soon end to his life he was only 42
Elvis was hooked on prescription pills and that's what killed him
No one could tell Elvis what to do many tried all failed
The music died on the day Elvis died
It was so sad that Elvis felt so all alone so much of his life that is what fame does to you
Elvis was the King
No one else will ever occupy the Kings throne
Elvis loved to sing gospel songs no other entertainer of rock and roll ever did
No entertainers star shines brighter or ever will
You can ask any great entertainer and there are hundreds and will all agree Elvis was the greatest entertainer of all time
No entertainer in the history of music ever had a first year success like Elvis had
I saw Elvis in Las Vegas in 1972 when the music started and you knew that Elvis was soon to be coming on stage the excitement and the anticipation in the room was over whelming and beyond compare everyone in the room was mesmerized
This is my remembrance of Elvis Presley
Dennis Davis
March 15, 2013
The Crusades Began a Holy War
Which Continues to this Day.
We Kill, and Kill, and Now it Seems,
This shall Always be the Way.
One Side Scores, the Others Die,
Then the Cycle is Repeated.
It never Stops, It's never Done;
The Battles Grow More Heated!
The Way to Peace, it Seems so Clear,
Is not Through Senseless Slaughter.
I Appeal to All, "Please Quit the Fight!"
Save our Sons and Daughters!
To Find Our Way out of the Dark,
We Need only Seek the Light.
A Solution Lies within our Grasp:
Forget who's Wrong or Right!
This God or that, it Makes no Matter.
This Truth I have Acquired:
Be they Different, or the Same,
The Gods would Preach Cease Fire!
Kids are playing with strange blue graffiti
So, they wrote several times: "Neffertiti" …
And drew the most beautiful queen`s head.
The whole history of Egypt written in red,
With sacred hieroglyphs unknown by Champollion:
The Pharaons` destiny dandles a dewy dandelion…
Like the folded petals and bud, I'll bloom and flower..
Like the worm, I'll change and I on metamorphosis...
Like a seed, I'll grow and bear fruit..
Like a baby crawl, little by little I'll stand...
Life is a constant continuous progress..
Even our age passes the time..
Time a nonstop reminder of events..
Mirror a reflection of unstoppable changes..
Yet, deeds and actions leaves irreplaceable imprints..
Through even decades sprint...
by: olive_eloi
What Do We Expect, As We Seek to Remove God?
As so many people are seeking God's removal…
It's like anything from him, we've given a refusal!
Many have tried to ban just the reading of his word!
There's so much truth, just waiting to be heard!
Many anti-God societies have quickly formed!
Even the ten commandments, are often scorned!
We've built large cities, many schools, and homes!
But when it comes to God, we've often left him alone!
One can try their best to push God back in the corner!
But if you do, things in your life will get "warmer!"
The pleasures and truth you seek,
will come to an end!
And then eternity without God,
will just begin!
You'll wish you chose to live for God, that eventful day!
You'll wish that you took the time
to study and pray!
It's the word of God that you need to study and read!
God knows all about you! And knows your needs!
He deserves all of your praise and full attention!
We need to seek him, for much needed direction!
Please come dear Lord, and cleanse us within!
May we humbly confess our faults and sins!
We need YOU much more, than words can say!
Please be the God we serve!
May we start TODAY!
By Jim Pemberton
They say "God has forsaken us just look around"
Wars and storms are destroying our hometowns,
They say "if there is a God why are so many in need?"
People are steeling and lying with hearts overwhelmed with greed
They say "It's all Gods fault"… man takes no blame,
We curse God, push him out of our lives, and then accuse him when we are put to shame,
Oh blinded world filled with an abundance of vanity
You speak evil of him with mouths filled with profanity
Disobeying all he has commanded us to do
His rules were made to keep us safe, to avoid the chaos in which we now suffer through
They say "God is far and he doesn't care"
When it is our hearts that have turned from him, grown cold, brittle and bare
All we have to do is repent and change our wicked ways
Then in the blink of an eye he will restore us to our golden days
But human pride thinks it can beat him and reason thinks it will win
Read the bible, rebelliousness is how destruction all begins
Society gets darker and more corrupt each and every year
Many are growing hopeless and becoming overwhelmed by fear
God never left us… we as a country left him
God cannot bless a nation who is worshiping sin
In his infinite mercy he has allowed judgment to shake up his lost sheep
Those raindrops you see are his tears…yes our God does weep
Wake up great nation remember why we have been incredibly blessed
It's not because we're so brilliant it's because our forefathers made vows to God that we would give him our best
Generations are born and then they die
It is our obligation to leave a legacy about our creator who is more than just a mystery hidden in the sky
His eyes watch over every human, animal, insect and tree
His love holds this entire world unconditionally
So take some time to consider how fragile are lives really are
Man can't stop natural disasters or shootings by a mad man in a car
Live each day in love, forgiveness and submission
Put away idolatry, lust and religious tradition
Make a decision to have a "personal" relationship with God alone
And watch how life will change for you whether you're young or already grown.
By: Sabina Nicole
Written: 11/6/12
Life is living
But then again it's not
Because living goes on
Stop breathing
Life stop
Picture this if you may
To help you understand
How a person lives forever
After creating a man
Life is a path
That can go many ways
The roads are cloudy battle fields
With soldiers in a daze
Some are chosen
Some say {f_ck it} {bluff it}
While some give up
and cries tears by the bucket
Life is a tough road
But we can all get to the end
And go on living;
Loved, Remembered, and as a great friend
So soldier march on
The further less dazed
The further the march
The greater the praise
So climb the mountain
Swim the ocean,
Sometimes don't look back
Because some soldiers
In the battlefield
Just don't know how to act
But some should be saved
Because on this road you've bled
But only if he's bleeding
Still crawling ahead
Then pass the sword
And forget your graze
Because the more soldiers to the end
Insure better days
where are the voices of the churches in the midst of this economic uncertainty?
where are the spiritual leaders the moral compass of society?
it seems that since the Rev. Dr. M.L. King died so has the fight for social injustice
what I want to know is why the leaders of the church
seem to be sitting on the fence?
they seemed more concerned about building a new church
while their members are in a financial lurch
it's time to restart the movement by speaking truth to those in high positions
to let the Rebuplicans and Tea Party know it's not just them who can make decisions
we need to talk to our youth and tell them of what we've survived and endured
from slavery to the Depression now to this Recession that is closing down doors
they say they want smaller government when in actuality
they want to reduce the numbers of minorities getting decent salaries
for the government be it Fed, City or State is the largest employer
of the Black, Hispanic and Minority middle class structure
now they're going after the Unions trying to get rid of their collective bargaining tool
also reducing or cutting federal dollars to state universities and historic Black schools
how will our children ever be able to afford higher education?
connect the dots and see that it's a process of marketability elimination
WAKE UP MY PEOPLE why can't you see
what the Republicans are trying to do to the middle class families
so what are we waiting for? why have the churches not spoken out?
what are we waiting for? are the churches in denial and doubt?
it's time for the churches to step up to the plate
to speak out against what the Republicans are attempting to propagate
we now have an African-american man as President of this great land
yet the African-american church has yet to publically take a stand
we have not adminsihed those who belittle him and keep trying to take him down
we have not publically supported him nor have we made a sound
what are we waiting for? can't you see the writing on the wall?
if we don't act nor fight back we will all take the fall
what are we waiting for? it's time for the movement to restart
for us to be like the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther king Jr. we need to do out part
The world was a new and a fearful place
for all was mystery from land to sea
of salvation there was no need, no trace
and many say there was but, he and she.
Then Om sounded, the Word was God to be
thousands of years before mankind could scrawl
thousands of years before Moses or Saul
Om gave song to the throat of his creations
two legged, four legged, to one and all
Om gave the word to creatures and nations.
Prajapatir vai idam agre asit
Tasya vag dviitiya asit
Vag vai paraman Brahman
In the beginning was Prajapati (Brahman)
With whom was the Word;
And the Word was verily Brahman.
(Krishna Yajurveda, Kathaka Samhita, 12.5, 27.1; Krishna Yajurveda, Kathakapisthala Samhita, 42.1; Jaiminiya Brahmana II, Samaveda, 2244)
Also from Bhagwad Gita: 1500 BC
"I am Om, the Word that is God."
The writing which form the Jewish bible were compliled from 2-5BC
Olivia, When I met you were 8 months old
So let the truth be told.
When we me, you were learning to sit up
no bigger than a little pup.
First time I held you, you fell asleep,
Didn't even make a peep.
I remember how I was scared,
Move? I wouldn't dare.
It was a Sunday, I'll never forget that day
Your little smile like a little light ray
Then I saw you on Tuesday too,
That was the first time I called you Chew.
Then we went to Red Robins
and boy did you make a stink.
Me and Mommy were eating dinner
you kept poking me with you little finger.
Mommy gave you a piece of bread,
But don't let it go to your head.
Then you started to choke
I jumped up and helped in time I hoped.
Mommy sat there with a tear in her eye,
and I told her not to cry.
You were not happy after that boy oh boy,
So I gave you a red M&m Toy.
Then me and mommy talked a little while,
Then I left with a great big smile.
Over the time we grew real close
even know you weren't mine yet I still started to boast.
Then you started walking,
then POOF you were talking.
I remember you walking that day
You said "Da Da" Man I didn't know what to say
You took everybody off guard,
I hit the floor really hard.
I looked at mommy and she had Grin
I gave you a kiss right on the chin.
Picked you up and spun you around,
Till we both fell to the ground.
I told mommy that I would keep safe
I kept you both in a sacred place.
And when I said I love you,
You said I love you tooooooooo.
So these cherished moments I will hold
So let the truth be told.
You will have the secret of success
because you put us all to the test.
I remember the first time i changed your diaper
Man were you Hyper.
I put the diaper on my head
"Well done is what Mommy" said
I loved to tuck you in at night
Made sure the nite light wasn't to bright.
I watched you grow up thru the years,
I cried a lot of tears.
I can see you in your little dress
Saying " Daddy your the best "
After saying all this
I gave your picture a kiss
I will always be here for you
and to kiss your boo boo.
So these cherished moments I will hold
So let the truth be told.
Mommy took you away from me,
She said " this is how it was going to be "
Please don't worry it's not your fault
Mommy and I lives came to a halt
I'm not going to tell you to forget about me
I just hope someday you will see.
Nothing here is wrong because nothing ever could.
It has been so long,
A time that just never would!
Nothing here was ever lost because nothing was ever found.
It has been a toss,
A time that simply counted down!
Holding back the tears,
Puddles of many lost years!
Holding back my time,
I'm a prisoner with no crime.
There's nothing here to hold because there never was.
It has been so cold,
A time for just because!
Holding back the pain,
My chronic death inside!
I have nothing to lose because there's nothing to gain.
Holding back the strength of all my earned pride,
I'm just a moment gained with a will that eventually dies inside!
®Registered: 1997 Ann Rich
The grass like words in a poem, grew up on the hill,
With the pulsing season birds` bitter and honey thrill;
So green and yellow written in the sad memory:
Words on painted crosses of wood and ivory;
Blessed words on lips and clouds passing far away;
Grass grew around the shinning words of yesterday;
Grass and fluorescent flowers of our good night ,
And long echo of Narcissus calling the first light
From whose tender drops the world caught life,
And temptation of good got dim shadowy strife.
Words like moon reflected on the time`s waters
Brought the stratified Yorick`s smiles of our brothers;
It seems a wet moon with broken troubled waters.
We sag and summon back the past Job`s heirs`hearth
To find the sealed mountain whose true faith is enough .
Life is Harsh, Life is good
Only the few of the proud
Those men that stand for a great nation
Their life at the stake
So rough and sharp
Every day is another challenge
For them and for all
Freedom we all hope
But sometimes feel lost
Never give up that spark
Hope don't give it up for a price
And when I see these great men and woman
Risk their life for a single child lost
With guns all around and wars of hate
I feel blessed as my country truly stands brave
A child is a gift of new life and hope
As I see the children in their arms saved at last
Only then will I ever know true courage
This is a path we should always cherish and follow
When the flame burns out nothing is left but stay strong
So please don't shed a tear I am right here
By your side always and forever
Our country stands not alone, but as one
Heart filled with love
Poem for Treasures of Your soul contest
for Gail
Introduction: We don't really think deep enough about "What A Poetry Actually Is", the
obvious question which we all know but don't think how to really elaborate on. We mostly
see the story, depth and the purpose it delivers. Well, here's one a little bit different
this time...
Poetry is the reflection of our lives like in the mirror,
It is something we can relate to and share.
It's our memories written in jumbled words,
It's like a song, with a meaning it holds.
A mere idea of our mystical lives,
Expressed in a way from deep inside
A way which only the heart can see,
A place where the eyes get cold-feet
The earnest truth and the sweetest lies,
It's all the irony that makes poetry so alive.
Politically correct I'm not; if you seek precision you ought,
find the time, to define the rhyme of perfection
in words you've sought.
A simplicity of words I am; I do not write for status or glam,
I pen my mind, whether thoughts callous or kind,
truthfulness you'll find.
Paper is more powerful for me, not keystrokes of a PC you see,
a pen in hand, is more commanding and grand,
when writing on demand.
Following the norm is queer; I allow the pen and paper to steer,
a symphony of life, thru every memory and strife,
of a mother, daughter and wife.
Technological progress I dread, only because the pen is now dead,
so take heed in my words, though seemingly absurd,
but a poetic pen should always be heard.
' More Will Rise … ' 71st Senryu
They Shoot Messengers
They Cannot Kill The Message
More Rise, To Tell It ! …
Wishful thinking
rests upon soft summer
butterfly wings
warm breeze
swims across my body
taking with it
thoughts, dreams,wishes
now they float, high
above the endless
clouds, like seeds
from an empty
dandelion stem
suns rays
wrap me in an invisible
blanket of comfort
tiny, speckles of wet
dew drops from morning
when God kissed the ground
As I lay, feeling
the touch of mother earth
I drift to dream freely
my Native ancestors
dancing and chanting
the songs of my people
the Chickasaw
A sudden itch on my nose
brings me back to the present
and as my sleepy eyes lift
from crescent slivers
to full dark chocolate moons
I watch as a monarch
dance across my face
and kisses my cheek with
its powdery wing
as it travels
above the endless clouds
like the dandelion seeds
He looked upon the ones He loved;
So innocent and so free;
Their beauty was beyond compare;
Of all His creation they were the best;
Instilled in them was freewill;
Could they survive the test?
He had to come.
The serpent was so crafty;
The serpent was the enemy;
It set out to deceive His love;
Things would never be the same;
The serpent would cause Him so much pain.
He had to come.
The fruit appeared so tempting;
The serpent's words rang true;
Was the man to trust in God;
Surely he would not die;
Yet die he did for a single bite.
He had to come.
There was now a new man;
This man was Abraham;
He set out for a new country;
It was a country yet to be;
The promise was to be fulfilled.
He had to come.
Abraham had no children;
Yet God's promise was to be fulfilled in him;
How could this come to be;
When he had no offspring;
Yet Abraham never doubted God.
He had to come.
Some generations later;
The characters have now changed;
The children of Abraham are slaves;
Their groaning reaches God's ear;
He will not leave them alone.
He had to come.
God plagued the nation of Egypt;
The Passover was put in place;
The children of Abraham escaped by His might;
A new nation was now born;
Moses was their leader.
He had to come.
At a place called Sinai;
The covenant was given;
It pointed out to man what sin was;
It could not redeem them to Heaven;
It was sealed in blood.
He had to come.
The covenant required obedience;
It required the sacrifice of a lamb;
Sin was atoned for by the sacrifice;
Yet no lamb could be found to fit the bill;
It had to be the perfect Lamb.
He had to come.
He was born in Bethlehem;
The gift of God to man;
He would preach for a mere three years;
During that time He would change the world;
He would be murdered for His effort.
He had to come.
The cross was cruel and agonizing;
He could have came down and walked away;
This was why He had come;
It would set things right;
It was His Father's will.
He had to come.
When He died the curtain was torn in two;
The dead came from their tombs;
The soldiers themselves knew then who He was;
He was the perfect Lamb;
He was the end of sacrifice.
He had to come.
Death could not hold Him;
He rose to walk again;
He finished what was started;
Now he was seen by many witnesses;
He ascended back to His throne.
He had to come.
He looked upon the one He loved;
Restored back to her first state;
It had been worth the price he paid;
His glory was now supreme;
She was His bride forevermore.
He had to come.
When I see the eyes ...tear
Of somebody I could never ...bear
To forget about it and move on
While others happy and ...cheered
That principle in me is ...rare
I have looked into the eyes of ...fear
And made them tears...Who dare!!!
A good way to say:
"An eye for an eye"
Engraved in chromes steel, is benedictions creed
The road warrior's born to be free mentality,
A legacy's name embossed in history, behold
The American Harley Davidson Motorcycle.
Fires hell bound creation, blazing down the
Interstates two lane highway, feasting upon
The concrete and asphalt jungle, it lives to be driven,
And is driven to live.
Emerging from brimstone's smoke, and hails
Lightning flash, a two wheeled vehicle of deliverance,
Cuts the wild heart in half, releasing mankind's
Inner beast setting it free, unto the open roads
Badlands, of ultimate abandonment to freedom's row.
The rebel unforgiven,thus follows the lost by ways
Seeking liberation's untamed spiritual knowledge.
Held firmly beneath the wings of the American eagle, and
Draped within the standard most sacred
Under the red, white, and blue flag, of the U.S.A.
A living entity, releasing society's inhibitions,
At the sound of it's mighty roar, a freed lone wolf,
Racing against the winds of the restless spirit.
The leather jacket's brotherhood, symbolizing
A grand belief in the declaration of independence,
That all men are created equal, and shall have the
God given right, to seek true freedom's liberty at will.
These are the modern cowboy desperado's,
Riding upon dual engines of power,
Time bandits whom trust in God and country alone.
A stampers anvil strikes in thunders rage,
Melting quick silver, speeds downwards
Into a symbolic mold, leaving behind tradition's
Birthmark, and the Harley Davidson symbol
Is born.
A storm collides, with a mystic flame,
It's raw force strikes, the last ancient Phoenix,
She rival's in pains agony, falling to the earth below.
The fire bird descends, crashing unto Mount Olympus,
From burnt ashes residue, a new deity arises,
Behold it is she, Athena the golden goddess.
The blaze of hail's fire, burns through her finger tips,
Thunder bolts strike, in aggressions anger,
Wisdom's strategist, in the art of war.
None compare to this battle hardened warrior,
Patron saint of the gods, a heavy metal protectress,
She is the iron clad maiden, guardian of the
Grecian world.
A shimmering silver shield of lightening,
Blinds in a flash oppositions foe,
Weildiing the double edge blade of justice,
Her righteous might vs. evil's dark force.
Doesn't the earth itself shake utterly,
At her mere appearance.
Blow the ivory tusken horn, oh mighty Nikey,
Beloved symbol for victory, to vanquish thy adversary.
Sitting on the left shoulder of Athena, as the clash
Begins in Olympia, leave no Titan alive or unmangled.
Through the haze's fog, a golden chariot appears,
Pulled by Hades twelve black Stallions, breathing
Hell's fire, with crimson eyes piercing the nights
Dark abyss.
Thus she is the master of this devils herd, a
Golden Goddess Athena, striking fear in the
Hearts of the foreign invaders.
In the Greek pantheon, her valor is celebrated,
And she is victorious on the behest of the gods.
Pay homages respect to her, Athenian's, for she is,
The Grecian image to courage and strength.
Beware this golden goddesses glare, it is the rising
Of the storm to come.
What If… Christmas Never Came???
What if Christmas never happened?
What if Christmas never came?
Things around here would be different!
It wouldn't be the same!
What if the baby Jesus was
never born in a manger?
Mankind would be in serious trouble!
We'd all be in danger!
If the baby Jesus wasn't born.
There would be no nativity.
We wouldn't be able to display
this during our "festivity."
It's almost like this now!
It's an "ever increasing business."
It seems like nearly everyone wants
"Christ out of Christmas!"
Why does it seem like Christmas is
losing it's true meaning?
The very words; "Merry Christmas,"
seem to be quickly disappearing!
Many say; "Happy Holiday."
They worry they may "offend."
Having a "holiday" without Christ….
Once again!
We need to put Jesus Christ back into
our CHRISTmas season!
He is what Christmas is about!
HE is the very reason!
May we all take some time to
rejoice in our savior's birth.
May there be shouts of JOY!
From the corners of the earth!
Let's not take Christ out
of our joyous celebration!
We need him so much right now!
All over this great nation!
May we bring to him a heart of love
for everything he's done.
As we bring honor to Christ.
God's precious son!
May we continually offer to him
a heart filled with praise!
Not only at Christmas time…
But all of our days!
By Jim Pemberton 12/05/11
It's been a long time since I was twenty one
Written By Dean Masciarelli
October 7, 2010 (9:25pm)
It's been a long time since I was twenty one
And all of my peace signs
and bell bottoms are gone
But I still listen to Crosby Still's and Nash and Young
And the Allman brothers band and Stevie Ray Vaughn
Just like I had done way back then
Its just hard to believe
all those days are gone
But I would do anything to
turn back the hands of time
So that I could go back to the
summer of nineteen sixty nine
A year before I had turned thirteen
So that I could
have the opportunity
to live through
those days once again
Because the days were
filled with peace signs
and love from everyone
But after the war ended in Vietnam
Nothing would ever be the same
But I cant turn back the hands of time
So for the time being I
will just keep on moving on
While I reminisce down memory lane
Boiling, baking and blazing,
Other synonyms for heat.
My camel is happily dazing,
He was not a restful seat.
Poolside I'll later be lazing,
Resting my sunburnt feet.
Air conditioning is amazing,
Ice cream is a lovely treat.
I have long loved sailing ships, and stories and movies about them. I have even spent a few months designing and making a couple of models to erect inside bottles. Fascinated with the subject, I empathize with the men who built them and the men who sailed in them. It was a tough life on the sea, but with great craft and skill ships that could ply the waves were built and our world discovered as a result.
Sing me a song of fine old ships,
Of fine old ships and the sea,
With hulls that ply the rolling waves
Like a claymore flying free;
And bulkheads that can bear the strain
All built of wood and steel,
That rise up like a cathedral
From a massive bolted keel.
Sing me a song of hardy men,
Who toil in the shipwright's trade,
Who bend their backs from dawn 'till dusk
By whom these ships are made.
For months on end with saws and nails,
With red hot bolts and steel,
They build a ship from bilge to deck
On a massive bolted keel.
Sing me a song of men that sail
In ships on the seven seas,
Who ride the waves in storm and gale
And laugh with the ocean's breeze;
Who man the decks in rain or shine
In ships of wood and steel,
With hulls that rise like a great church roof
From a massive bolted keel.
From massive bolted keels they rise,
These ships of wood and steel,
Built by men who toil all day,
With muscle, sweat and zeal.
Built with the shipwright's craft and skill
For the lads who sail the seas,
Who ply the foam in a hull for home,
And laugh with the ocean's breeze.
Suntanned fields tower along your breast.
Rusty gripping whips rip ripened veins.
Dancing black silhouette, shipped to the west,
In a barbed necklace of embroidered chains.
Singing in patois, you yield by wrest.
Like moribund gales your spirit wanes.
Suntanned fields tower along your breast.
Rusty gripping whips rip ripened veins.
Babe takes hold to a final tress,
and blots your heart with loved stains.
So decked in red memorial dress,
you bid farewell toward the Royal Haynes.
Where suntanned fields tower along your breast,
and rusty gripping whips rip ripened veins.
Copyright © 2009 #233
01/20/2009 // edited: 11/11/2012
(a new way)
-To Live And Pray-
On a brisk 2008 & 2012 Winter´s Day
Americans voted and joined to pray.
Changing its history
for a better humanity.
Freedom´s regal souls
braved 2 days so bold!
Renewing Dr Martin L. King's dream
uniting an American nation it seem.
A day etched in infamy
for all humanity to see.
Brave Americans
taking a stand
on its blood soaked land.
by: LP
In years gone past, as thunder rode a stark and blackened sky
in Thor's abode lived Valkyrie's, women such as I.
Virtuous, valiant, shield maidens, brought victors on high
Virgo's, surely, sisters all, who ordered those who died.
Judges true of pure intent whose honor none belied
for all of life seeks order, if chaos would be denied.
An independent nature every Virgo's does maintain
with thoughts of selfless causes and the shunning of acclaim.
With fire and fidelity your Virgo's never tame
but, you can trust a Virgo's, a Valkyrie all the same…
"I saw it from the Harbor-
On that clear September morn,
As the freedom of my people
Became tested, tried, and torn.
The hands of foreign strangers,
Full of hatred for these shores,
Brought down terror and destruction
On my patrons by the scores.
I saw it from the Harbor-
As the gleaming pillars, tall
Engulfed in orange flames and fuel,
Slowly sway, and finally fall.
Throngs of people ran for safety,
Not knowing where to go.
I watched in silent horror,
That macabre and tragic show.
I saw it from the Harbor-
All the panic and despair,
All the sadness and confusion,
Devastation everywhere.
The peacefulness was shattered,
As the chaos reigned supreme.
For the moment trust and faith of man
Just could not be redeemed.
I saw it from the Harbor-
As the rubble and debris,
Mixed with ashes, smoke, and human tears,
Stretched forever- endlessly.
The echoes of the sirens
Pierced the solemn atmosphere.
In the quiet of the city,
Wails of mourning I could hear.
I saw it from the Harbor-
An unwavering brotherhood,
Rise up above the heartache,
And prove Evil dies to Good.
Compassion conquered over grief,
And Love shone brighter still,
As the heroes of my city
Gave their heart, and soul, and will.
I see it from the Harbor-
Each and every passing year,
People come from the World over
To reflect, and shed a tear.
The memories of that fateful day
Ring vivid everywhere.
From the Harbor now, I cannot see
The towers that were there.
I see it from the Harbor-
On this 'Anniversary Ten',
The pride of New York City,
Is as strong as it was then.
For all people come together,
Which means so much more to me,
As I stand in quiet vigil
With this meaning: 'Liberty'."
There's nothing like the smell of fresh air
So come join me on this expedition there
High above the canyon ridges
Of Colorado's mountain's and bridges
Pikes Peak Cheyenne to name a few
But let me tell you oh what the view
For there are fresh water streams
Cascading down the slopes of green
Then there are countless winding and twisting roads
Slowing down the engines cargo load
Top of Cheyenne's peak
You can almost hear God speak
Voices in the wind
Not to hear it would be such a sin
And if your lucky enough even capture an eagle in flight
Encirciling Pikes Peak now wouldn't that be a sight
So for your next viva vacation
Remember the mountains of Colorado who also holds great sensations
In battles hymn, raise your shield,
Sharpen metals sword.
All hail bow low unto Rome,
Be blinded by opulence's glitter,
And greed's excess
Salves feel her golden sandles,
Upon bare skins flesh.
Shackles hand cuffs, bind generations,
Under whips task masters.
Architectural thieves, swallowing,
Cultures as the serpent gorging itself.
On it's twisted belly the beast,
Encircles it's prey.
At blades sharp edged point, the innocent
Lie slain,
In histories dust humanity bleeds.
Crimson skies light Cesar's horizon,
As thousands gather in the Colosseum.
The gladiator stands alone, facing madness's
Awaiting death's final release from bondage.
A simple thumbs motion,
Down meaning liberation,
Up for another soul taken.
Behold blood sports ultimate challenge,
To live or die by strength and valor.
Fates twisted sense of humor,
Laughs at him behind justice's,
Blackened curtain.
Mocking the crowds lustful,
Calls of encouragements.
Sacrifices altar burns brightly,
Upon the false Gods alabaster statue.
Patiently waiting veracity's venom,
Ambitions royal descriptors feasting,
At harvests festive table.
The warrior faces reflections honored soul,
And behind them destiny's predator stalks,
Those soon to fall it's victim.
To a coiled cobra poised to strike,
Decadence audience claimers at fevers pitch,
Adrenaline rush, excelling the
Combatants deadliest game.
Immoralities remembrances,
Or defeats cowardly shame.
Devastation final reckoning
To the victor goes spoils waste,
For the dead remains emptiness.
Champions hero kneels before,
The emperor's mighty power.
An evergreen crown of laurel leaves,
His treasures only gift.
Freedoms mercy to live another day,
Beyond the arenas iron gates.
Under afternoon's setting sun,
It's last rays chase across the,
Mississippi delta.
Slow as she goes, steadily cutting,
Currents rough undertone.
Click, clacking water rushing,
Up wooden panels divide sections,
Harnessing the wooden wheel's raw,
Power it pushes along,
A heavily laden haul.
Splashing spray hits unguarded,
Passengers, whom stand alone,
The side rails.
Site seeing travels wonder at
Natures wild landscapes,
Vs. mankind's plantations.
A tenuous balance between beauty,
And progress.
A grand old lady from days gone by,
The white queen glides seamlessly,
As if on air.
Musicians play waltz's, sweet tones,
As musics smooth rhythms vibrate,
Her bow unto stern.
Delighting gentlemen, and
Maiden alike.
Men dressed in period costumes,
Embrace there dance partners,
At the waste height politeness.
Lovely, ladies blushing beneath,
Swirling shifts delicate steps.
Drifting crafts with sails at half mast,
To honor histories glorious past.
Freezing still watching, as girths,
Wake rocks them on there merry way,
Experience olden days legacy's.
Reliving an easier time, recline my,
Friend at idles leisure.
Beside the rocky shoreline,
Admire life's golden age,
Have a taste of Southern comfort.
On the outside..is a statue..tall and strong..
On the inside..is a heart..soft and true..
From a place of hate..many run..
Passing the statue..they come...
A promise she screams..without a word..
From sea...to shining sea...she's heard..
If you are brave..you live inside her heart..
For many this is a new place to start...
A dream..A hope..growing in size..
In a land beneath ..star spangled skies..
The only thing ..this great woman fears..
Is that some will forget ..or not get to see...
Of the beauty she shares..
And what it means to be free.
To the tranquil heavens he raised
his last words, the soldiers he praised
for their bravery in killing little innocent children
and their strength in abusing the weak brethren
To the vast blue skies he raised
his last poetic voice, the dictators he praised
for their hearts of stone that killed many living flesh
and their eyes that rejected the hungry while they eat fresh
To the smooth sailing clouds he raised
his last voice, the heroes he praised
for their courage to risk their spirit to save
their race and their lives are the gifts they gave
To the warm embrace of the wind he raised
his last gratified song, the mothers he praised
for their small voice in begging compassion
their ardent love for their family is raging with passion
To the spirit from the gas chamber he raised
his last breath, the future survivors he praised
for their silence and tough faith
he wished for their triumph over uncertain fate
To the darkness of his sight he raised
his last prayer, his God he praised
for giving devils that let him hold a candle to light
and for teaching him to make worth of his life
Tall, proud cliffs, rising out of the sea,
Straight and hard, withstanding bombs,
Its protective outer shell encompassing
The soft inner limestone of the Island
Like my body protects the inner softness of me,
The part that identifies with the Island,
Needing to protect and yet be protected.
Why do I identify with the stone?
Its beauteous colours of cream through gold,
Of its increasing hardness as it weathers
And waits,
To ripen and harden with age,
Breathless over time, until …..
It is chosen.
Like the Island has chosen me.
Another son is dead, until five he lived.
For his long life at Shah-Hamdan he had threads tied
"Shehij ninder yee nai. Gahas Kormakh Khudayas Hawale", his mother cries.
No news can penetrate across the mountains. Satellites work here no more
My Kashmir burns. And no one knows.
An old woman with torn scarf sits besides fire. While feeding her neighbor's child
She sighs. Is my son dead or alive? She silently cries.
In Madrasa I hear children reciting Quran. A girl's come out dragging her feet.
I remember her from somewhere. I remember her seeing naked.
Oh! God she is the one who was raped.
Nights have turned pitch black. My eyes are losing the habit of sight
Midnight soldier's set another house ablaze. At least there is some sort of light.
Many letters have been written to God. Postcards posted of those raped girl's
But its curfew again. No post office deliver's the message again.
Death comes from everywhere. Close your windows mother
For bullet respects no womb. It turned Gulistans into tombs.
From the plains the visitors come to visit their God's
They are our only witnesses but hypocrites at heart.
They say paradise is kaasmir. While my Kashmir is ablaze
They testify against us. Is anybody witnessing this? No one at all
Be witness to at least this. Open up your eyes my Lord!
When paradise is painted with colors of hell, certainly divinity loses its grace
In the news the reporter is beaten. Bamboo sticks are hungry for human blood.
Let Kashmir go to hell. A new promise in their portfolio.
Threads have given up at Dastegeer's place. Even they are horrified at our fate.
In Maisuma boys are dragged by police. They close their dreams, end their screams
In a police gypsy.
Men shape into monsters when they are given right to anarchy.
The gypsy drives them into the dark cantonments. They will remember this day
Interrogation officer comes. After celebrating his son's birthday.
The winds from the cantonments bring their news
Burned tires around their necks. Burning stoves near their heads.
The knife tearing up their flesh.
And the boys cry, "We haven't batted yet. Cricket. We know nothing".
Death wants children to be headlines
Hunger has affected the heavens as well.
Graves are full. No more space left.
We need land of the plains. For our graves.
In the ac car the bureaucrat goes. The mother's with search full eyes
Ask about their sons they lost. They drink their tears
And he sips champagne.
Mr Frost, I so often ponder upon your words of wisdom.
But, now life's struggle receintly left me homeless and forelorn.
Now, the Office of Veteran's affairs becomes a place of safe refuge.
For this homeless Vietnam veteran, no longer hanging upon a ledge.
Oh, woe is me, what happened to me, how did I arrive here? Woe is me.
I can't recall the road I took, I don't know what happened. I just cannot see.
I look back at my last journey and it's all a fog.
It's as if I'm experiencing deep grog.
I see something strange, I never saw the road I followed, I must have been blind.
Was this the reason I stumbled along and fell behind?
As I try to recall my adventures, all I see is "The road not taken."
I never saw the road I was on, for all I dreamed about was the road I had forsaken.
Injured and lame I cried and wished for the road that forked away, an Air Force career.
Tears roll down into a glass of water that for others might have held steady beer.
For it seems, others have fallen harder than my tumble
For, in retrospect, compared to their state, it only seems a stumble.
I no longer dream of the road I did not take.
For now, I see the road I did follow.
I see much learning and wisdom on the path which I did stumble and had much strife.
I wish to now begin to aid others to pick up their lives and return to their road of life.
My new purpose and goal now shines bright, now I seek to unravel.
So I can get back on my road of life, and this time, really travel.
Oh, write tae me of the highlands,
the crisp air and the damp.
Write tae me of the heather'd fields
'ere Bonnie Charlie danced.
Oh, place yo'r quill upon the page
and dream a fey song wit me,
of rock tor's an' crags an' fiords
which join the raging sea.
Of fair Iona, the Isle of Sky
the Inner Hebrides.
Hike yo'r kilt, strap on the uilleann
and keen a sweet song for me.
Oh, dinnae tarry beyond the pale,
with the wail of the brash banshee.
*Written in dialect in the style of Robert Burns
**Dedicated to our Jamie our own Highlander
What Happened
Life is all about corruption, deception, and havoc, which now is often mistaken for blood shot, lying in the streets of the innocent, why does this have to be? what happened to the peace, unity, love and care, we all shared, when god created this land, don't we as his apostles, have the right to stand fight, against evil, not cause it...
For our Father, Nelson 'Madiba' Mandela
you are our eternal inspiration
our hopes
our dreams
our conscience
you gave everything of yourself
so that we may live and love and laugh and dream and breathe the air of freedom, dignity and liberty
you lead us through the darkest days with your unshakeable principles and your belief in us
you brought peace and freedom to us
and when at times we felt all was lost
you stayed with us as a father would
you lent us your wisdom
and you chastised us too
and we are here today because of you
you stayed with us, Nelson Rolihlala 'Madiba' Mandela, through all the crests and valleys of our turbulent times
you stayed with us, father
today, we hope and pray and wish
that you, our father Madiba
stay with us still
stay with us, Madiba
stay with us...
' Kept Light On … ' 46th Senryu
He Left The Light On …
So, We Could Find Our Way Home
Look Up, Before Gone …
Singing singers sing
The dreaming dreamers dreams
The believing believers believe
He who asks receives
The whistling whistler whistles
The armed forces possess their missiles
The baking baker bakes
The sound of frying, he does not make
The writing writer writes
The biting baby bites
The quacking duck continues to quack
Where there is produtivity, there is no lack
A circle of harmony, symbolizing the
Idealism of peace,
In this world of troubling times,
We do lean against it's inner bars,
For comforts sake alone.
Let us turn a new page, my friend
In history no more black ink,
But a greener color a weaved lore wreath,
For the dawning of an age of
Can one hear mother natures voice calling,
It is time for the Eco revolution to begin,
So let us join together and save our world.
Let the winds of change blow free,
What a better symbol to represent,
Than that of peace, waving in open
Air, captured in the morning breeze.
Flower power's generation has come of age,
Dig out those tie-die T-shirts and
Let us represent not with voices,
But with action.
Light the torch of freedom again,
It's flame needs new kindling,
Stoke it's sacred embers once more,
And allow the modern world to
Know we are American, the country
Illuminating a greener planet.
By example shall the United States
Stand tall, or fall by natural disaster's
After shock.
The global unity of the brethren, of
Mankind can make a difference,
Let our inspiration be our children,
The future generation, inheritance
Should be something worth the leaving
Of it behind.
A legacy called pride, on a green planet,
Proud of my kindred called humanity,
Let our youth hold their heads up high,
Not low in shame.
Allow the age of peace to stand for
Something meaningful, I'll give the sign
What about you?
< she has cast her .... shadow
thus transformed and expanded
this notable profession
into the
twenty first century
Entry For Brian Strand's
Ekphrasis Contest G.L. All
Florence Nightingale
The 39th Nurse - 1820-1910
The Florence Nightingale Museum
London England
Flowing words that show a story well
Rhyme a delight to see upon a veil.
Poetry soothes the soul, tells of feelings.
Lines in metaphors, inspirational dealings,
Verse that is free, describes virtual history.
Acrostics can deliver any kind of mystery.
Poetry more graceful than a flowing brush,
Creates pictures and forms in breaking hush,
Haiku surrenders nature's beauty so short.
Senryu captures humanities truth and tort.
Paint captures sight; poetry feels the scene.
Writers develop spirits, feelings felt and seen.
Sculptors captivate realism, fantasy supreme.
Poets bring joy, sadness, life, love, in a dream.
Whether rhyming or not, a good poet shows.
Few or many lines they create properly flows.
Poetry rings out in emotions of various forms.
Lines of any verse go way beyond the norms.
What does this wintery holiday truly mean, called Christmas?
Is it the cost of a present, or if you get what is on your long
Extended wish list.
No, my friend it means so much more, spiritually, emotionally,
Loves magical wonderment lives within all beings, great and small.
Loved ones gather from far and near, sharing this uplifting gift, of
Good will and cheer.
Bright lights of glamor, shiny ribbons and bows, are nothing compared,
To the pure joy shared on Christmas morning, when the youngsters awake,
Running down stairs wondering if Santa Clause came.
Or to receive an unexpected gift, a visitor from a great distance,
Coming home after serving his country.
God bless our service man and women whom have given their best,
So we at home may remain free.
Heart in hand we honor these the best of us, whom represent our
Wondrous nation.
What lies beneath the sacred Christmas tree, means very little
It is just a price tag, with pretty paper wrapped around it.
Hugs and kisses from my grand kids, mean more to me,
Or their lovely drawings of snowmen scotch tape to the frig,
Rate the most valuable in this grandma eyes than silver chains
Of gold.
How does one measure his wealth, in dollar signs, or
Possession, nay it is judged by how much one is loved,
And gives love in return.
This is the true meaning of this holiday,
And so
I will honor Christmas in my heart,
And try to keep it all the year.
Always to be the best I can be, to those special,
People in my life, friends, family, and humanity
In general.
After all a smile, or a helping hand can go
A long way these day, just try it and you'll
Find out.
Merry Christmas to all, and remember
To always to pay it forward.
The True Meaning of Easter
The true meaning of
the Easter story,
Is God's Son came down
to Earth from glory.
Jesus really does
love you and me.
He was born to die
that you might be free.
For 33 years, he lived
among sinful men.
Then one day was to be
an atonement for our sin.
He who was born of the
virgin Mary's womb.
Was to one day rise again
from an empty tomb.
So many people have
gotten into a habit,
of replacing Jesus
with the bunny rabbit.
So please reach out to others
and let them know,
Of the lover and redeemer
of their soul.
The true meaning of Easter
must forever be said.
Of God's son who died,
but arose from the dead!
By Jim Pemberton
safari escape
zebra giraffe scurring -
in natures garden
Southern Airways Flight 932
November 14, the night they flew
McDonnell Douglas DC-9
Like all flights, they should be fine
On the return home
They clipped some tree's
The final run
From Greenville,NC
37 players
In all, 75
From this tragedy
None survived
This Thundering Herd
Taken in their prime
Coaches and others
Before their time
But We Are Marshall
Would rise again
To take away
This terrible pain
From a point of closure
They reunite
To carry the lost
In their football right
Jack Lengyel
Appointed coach
With Red Dawson
Through Dedmans approach
Young Thundering Herd
First game lost
29 - 6
Experience cost
First post win
Against Xavier
15 - 13
Calms despair
In 1974
Jack Lengyel leaves
But, We Are Marshall
We quietly grieve
" Dedicated to the Thundering Herd Football Team from Marshall University-West Virginia
and Mr Arthur D. Schwarz, a fervent football fan "
That i did not have to see people on the streets
with no home, food
or even water or money to live on.
I could be in a band and be all i can be
like the birds and the bees
and how they fly so freely
That her heart wouldnt be broken and maybe if he loved her
she wouldnt have died she would have lived forever in his arms
That everyone could get along and that we all could be at peace, maybe the war would end
and the sound of music can play again
that her or his bully would see if they keep up all this hurt and fear that they put on someone
else by huritng them will soon end the world in sadness
My art could sing like the lyrics of a song
and that everyone could see the art teens draw from there own hearts
and there bleeding minds of there souls.
Drops of sweat slip from my furrowed brow
Eyes squint, select a number and let fly now
Miss again, a millimetre is a mile once more
Aimed for triple twenty, only got double four
The walk of shame, my oh so familiar friend
Silence broken, on alcohol I forever depend
The steel point of eyes bore into my neck
My opponent leaves me a juddering wreck
I lose the match; the wife won't give me a kiss
I wish I could have been anything else than this...
Pleasure is.
So sweet the seasons sounds,
That makes for those summer days.
Skies make for a back drop of hues of blue,
Sweet mowing grass now sheared as hay.
Upon my face the beads of perspiration,
As I wipe my fevered brow.
The days now long as I swing forth the scythe,
High above the sun beats down.
A shout breaks my concentration,
For it is Mary who is my love.
Under a large oak tree she shelters,
Truly a pure vision from above.
For with her a wicker basket,
Its contents now lay out before.
She beckons me come forward,
Asl my senses cry out for more.
In her tender arms my head gently lies,
Beneath a canopy of green.
Dappled sun light highlights her flowing hair,
For the world id trade, for these moments gleaned.
©N . Windle. 2009
< Once came along an man named John Wayne
Winchester by his side causes more pain
Dusty trails ballroom brawls
Battlefield's muddy crawls
The duke of western inflicting gains
The Med between us
The gusts make me think of you
Storms... it's just like home.
South Africa salutes Dr. Martin Luther King Jr!
They gunned you down,
on this April day,
all those years ago,
yet you live, you breathe!
They gunned you down,
just as they did Chris Hani and M.K. Gandhi,
and they failed, as they always will,
for they can never kill,
your dream, your ideals.
Your dream, your ideals,
live, and breathe,
He sleeps there in a stable
The babe born to the world
Both mother, father watch with care
Though swaddled in a cloth
He is born, yet, to be king
With but just rags for Him to wear
This special morning
The sun now shines bright
From stars there in the Heavens
To the rise of morning light
The world now is much brighter
As angels, too, now play
There's hope and happiness to share
Upon this Christmas Day
For within the early morning
Angels brought the sky a voice
Calling forth those who wish to hear
Along then, came all others
Knowing truth within their hearts
That all now have nothing to fear
This special morning
The sun now shines bright
From stars there in the Heavens
To the rise of morning light
The world now is much brighter
As angels, too, now play
There's hope and happiness to share
Upon this Christmas Day
Go forth and tell all others
Who had no chance to hear
The news of hope and of the joy
Let them know the Gift of God
That comes to save us all
His son sent as this little boy
This special morning
The sun now shines bright
From stars there in the Heavens
To the rise of morning light
The world now is much brighter
As angels, too, now play
There's hope and happiness to share
Upon this Christmas Day
After noticing a small white house
this painter decided that it would look
fancy if someone would live in it too
so using his sister Nan and his dentist
Dr. Byron Mckeeby this colonial print
is mimicking 19th century Americana
And to think that they were never even standing
in front of the house they had been painted separatley
Grant Wood 1930
Americian Gothic
The Art Institute Of Chicago
Entry For Brian Strand's Ekphrasis
The drummer who
only plays on Wednesdays;
plays with purpose…
rhythmically dispersing
the pulmonary clutter
of the pig eared philanthropist;
the twaddle raddled paddle…
or the crescent topped cacophony…
neither either nor song…
the drummer who only plays
on Thursdays;
plays with porpoise…
the singular plural plectrum…
the aquatic harpooned bride…
annul… abrupt… annul…
annul… abrupt…
a week away from the day…
an hour's hindsight…
the overly possessive impressionistic ploy…
time… as in reason…
the arrogance of self…
the drummer who only
plays on Wednesdays;
plays with purpose…
Trilling Tray (Limerick)
Parrots have men in the palm of their hands
Through the pirated palimpsest that is from man's land
There is no point getting into panic about the tall story
Touch me if it is a wild and wacky story
But if it is worthwhile to the core, (then) hold my hands.
"There must be some kinda way to find out here"
Said the seeker to the stealer
"There's too much confusion
I'm struggling to be the reveal"
"Conglomerate men, they drink my wine
Politicians dig my earth
None will level on the line
Because none of them are worth it" hey
"There is reason to get excited"
The seeker, he kindly spoke
"There are many here among us
Who feel our governments a joke"
"Now you and I, we've lived through this
And this is not our fate
So let us not talk falsely now
The hour is getting late", hey
All along the watchtower
Liars kept the view
While all the women came and went
Barefoot servants too
Outside in the cold distance
The C.I.A. did growl
Two riders were approaching
And the wind began to howl, hey
All along the watchtower
All along the watchtower
All along the watchtower on that tragic September day
We need some investigation, for someones has to pay
Now you and I, we've lived through this, and this is not our fate
So let us not talk falsely now, before this generations to late
We will always remember, and remember who we lost that day
We need some investigation, for someone has to pay
All along the watchtower, a nation in mournful cries
We are not so blind, it's amazing what you can see when you close your eyes
All along the watchtower
All along the watchtower
James, we lost you in Kensington, England. The Star Spangled Banner will
live long in your past. I can't say the same for some of your American so
called country people. Thank you for allowing me to gracefully use . . . .
'All Along the Watchtower' it's blatantly obvious someone was not.
To all the lost in the 9/11 tragedy, my thoughts will always be with you.
All Along The Watchtower by Jimi Hendrix, with some lyrics changed
On storm-ripped nights when seaboards crack
And wings of angels rendered black
Are clouds that seethe and boil on high,
The canvas of some desolate sky.
On empty days like shredded rags
Trailed down from mountain peaks and crags
To flap across the barren floors
Uneven plains and lakeland shores.
On trails of tears to God knows where,
When weary eyes flood with despair,
The turgid creep of asphalt stress,
Grey flannels tied to emptiness.
In this vast cathedral sanctuary,
With faith and love, democracy,
Within, without, beloved view,
This island home stands firm and true.
All beliefs are based upon same precedent.
Good and evil battle until end is near.
Mankind is always ever so negligent.
Split between each person is true faith and fear.
Good shall overcome evil this we all know.
Humankind will always have their choice to show.
Good will never destroy good, this we know true.
Evil destroys evil; that is what they do.
Written for
Sponsor Dr.Ram Mehta
Contest Name Rispetto
In the foggy isle of Britannia, many men have sought
Out fortune and fame.
But one man's legacy remains, as steadfast as the walls
Of parliament, a single voice echos, thunders across historical
Reference, and it's meaning sound is crystal clear, We shall
Never surrender, it has become this man's epitaph,
Behold the Prime Minster, Winston Churchill.
A stout figure head of reason, during a time
Of global madness, lighting the fuse of justice,
On an international stage.
Awakening the old sleeping lions fury, it's roars sounding,
Crashed as a tidal wave, against the walls of ignorance's
The British cannon's announced their coming, these
Fighters champion for freedom, and liberty, we will
Fight them by land or sea, and emerge victorious,
This elder gentleman so did speak.
Harken young soldiers of the brave heart, our time is at hand,
Shall we not shake the fists of anger's vengeance at them.
For those whom hide beneath a blood stained flag,
A symbolic sign of purity, behold a nation's lie is exposed.
A stout figure head of reason, during a time
Of global madness, lighting the fuse of justice,
On an international stage.
Awakening the old sleeping lions fury, it's roars sounding,
Crashed as a tidal wave, against the walls of ignorance's
The British cannon's announced their coming, these
Fighters champions for freedom, and liberty, we will
Fight them by land or sea, and emerge victorious,
This elder gentleman so did speak.
Harken young soldiers of the brave heart, our time is at hand,
Shall we not shake the fists of anger's vengeance at them,
Those hiding beneath a blood stained flag symbol of purity.
Hell's storm broke lose upon the distant land,
It's dark shroud blanket, relieved cruelties ugly offenses
Against humanity.
Did thus the world mourn their lost kindred, and the lion
Fell asleep once more, after shaking it's golden main free from,
The feathers of war.
In the annals of history, an old man sits beside a large lion,
Petting him until it rests at calms ease, lighting up a cigar,
Winston Churchill's vision will not completely fade away,
For his words ring eternal, we shall never surrender.
Oh lord hear the lonesome cowboys lullaby, singing beneath
The vast prairie open sky.
Hush, do they not lull the restless cattle to sleep, by a soft
Undertones sweet melody.
Drifting plains men, singing of the sorrows broken hearted,
And dreaming visions of their beloved, they've left behind.
Guitar strumming minstrels, of the fire hearth, accented
By the lone harmonica, playing off in the distance
Amongst a sea of cows, and horses.
In harmonic rhythm is this grassroots orchestra, as the fiddler
Strikes up his bow to join in, and playing ever so gently along,
To harmony's rhythm.
On the rocky cliffs mixed in the sandy dunes, the heckling
Coyotes, give an eerie ambiance, to this old western chorus.
Do these desert whyly creatures, howl in perfections tune,
To the wrangler's musical beat, of these wide grassy expanses,
That they all call home.
The rattler shakes it's tail in defiance, against the munching
Prairie dog, whom got away at the last moment.
Listen closely to the sounds of the meadow-lands, does not the crickets,
And locusts, add a natural flavor by their clicking and chirping.
Near the rivers stream, as the winds do blow, along the waters edge,
Another elements assent, is bestowed by the forcing of the reeds, to
Bend hitting them against the hollow log, causing a thumping's,
Drumming, to this uniquest of bands.
As twilight's distant starlight, flickering in the vast
Blackness above, these rambling souls whom wander so.
Down these dusty trails long journey, yearn for nothing
More than to know the quite serenity, of their home
That seems so far away.
Let your music fill your emptiness, for one nights
Beautiful dream, and remember the memory as if it
Were real, a vivid vision of illusion, and rest
In complete bliss, good night my young
Cowboy of the open sky.
Pandemonium fills the arena
the cries of the masses
echoes through the air like roaring lions...
Cheering to incite the favor
of the gods
while the elder nobles
wave in silent indignation...
The gladiators
face the emperor,
"Hail, Caesar
those who about to die salute you"
The emperor raising a finger,
"Fair you well"
Clash of shield and swords
protecting flowing wounds
prolonging their lives...
Blood flowing onto sand
red blood in the sun
forming putrid pools...
for the glory of empire
and you Caesar,
are you not entertained?
~ ~
Completely at ease
Calm, tranquil, serene
Bronze skin sunbathing
Cool breeze
Enveloped in earth's beauty
witnessing creation;
Becoming embodied with the thoughts of perfection,
original earth
original plan of action
Ultimate fulfillment and satisfaction
The old world is no more
We've come fully human
heart and mind restored
No longer noting the difference between
the old world and the new
Completely erased
But in the meantime,
I moan for freedom from strong holds like
sickness and death and oppression
I moan for freedom for the disabled
the mentally challenged,
the persecuted and their transgressions
Freedom from racism, injustice
ignorance, violence and depressions
I moan to end war, rape, incest
exploitation, thievery and anxiety
That was not the original plan
But the earth will be restored
and be as beautiful as it began
His soul in spring
written for
Sponsor Francine Roberts
Contest Name Wow Me in 5 Lines
written by
Cecil Hickman
© ®
The world has not ended though the penitents wait
at Chichen Itza, and Tikal sentient's pace.
Yet, one more prediction one more failed debate
perhaps, a new age will come filled with true grace.
Life is a process, a circular affair
from the time of Roman's predictions have flared
Pope's, pagans and shamans, none have been proved right
Let us all move forward in joy not in fright.
The world has not ended by meteorites fall
though oceans have risen and volcanoes flow.
The ground itself quakes but to no avail
life's bounty on Earth brings an endless tableau.
No planetary alignment ended our days.
No global plague has changed our miscreant malaise.
Truly this watery refuge gifts surprise
as with each nights end the sun doth ever rise.
I stand, alone.
Scratching for my truths,
peeling away the veneer,
I stand, alone, before this
impregnable cliff so sheer.
Cocooned in my solitary shell,
wrenching a smile from a tear,
I stand, alone, a little odd,
and definitely quite queer.
I stand, alone.
holy retinue
to serve on earth, call him Jew
secrets, known to few
Co-written with Linda-Marie Bariana P.E.P.S. "Sweetheart"
How fitting that One from A town so small
is our soon coming Lord and King.
Worthy is He to be adored by all;
our lives to Him daily we bring.
Born in the crude stables of Bethlehem,
no grand palace for Him in this life.
No temporal rule for Him among men
but His reign brings an end to all strife.
He came as the prophecies so proclaimed,
this One descended of King David's line.
He is the Name above every name
and shall be throughout and beyond all time.
So precious was that One tiny Babe
as He lay in a manger of straw.
His blessed birth was a life that He gave,
obedient to His Father, fulfilling Heavenly Law.
Adored by three Wise Men who traveled afar,
worshiped by simple shepherds was He,
As guidance was drawn from a bright, shining star
On a memorable and holy Christmas Eve.
While blessings were fashioned from His tiny hand
preparing all hearts to receive,
Salvation extended throughout the land,
to all, who, in Him would believe.
A Child in a manger invited each one
to a celebration of unending joy and peace.
A cherished gift offered from Father to Son,
humanity's treasure, never to cease.
America resides within the heart of all
Who believe in freedom, choice, voice and opportunity
Deny, not, the display of pride within yourself
Or else you'd deny pride in this land of the free
America, more than land, it's home to you and me
Some dare tread, take arms against and try to squash
All that America ever stood for, which is evident to all
They fear the freedom, strength and all that's offered
As they know, against us, they would never stand tall
And for all their attempts, America makes them fall
This 9-11, let us not focus on terrorist actions
But, on those Americans lost, that still live in our hearts
Remember and honor them by living the American dream
Exhibiting the ideals and always doing our part
Showing all, America has muscle but lives through its heart
reconised as one of the greatest harpsichordist
his sonates for flute and harpsichord remain
an attractive part of chamber music repertoire
with six string symphonies he had written for
baron von swieten and arbiter elegentium in vienna
music by cpe bach is often listed with a reference number
from the catalogue of his works by wotquenne {wq}
Bach, Carl Philipp Emanuel
Can find his works at
Classics online .com
Entry For Brian Strand's FanFare Contest
With his go-go soul and sultry sound, he kicked out many lyrics and spat out many rhythmatic rhymes…they in the main stream at first rejected and disrespected his sound. They said it would corrupted the youth! Don't mean a thing, he might say to them, if it ain't got that go-go swing! With his trade mark glasses he sported with his guitar in tote as he strutted across the stage sporting that familiar treasure cat smile…as the black young youths on the dance floor…grinded out and sweated to his almost hypnotic beats and lyrical remixed of a restructured hit song …in a blacked out hole in some night club in the back streets of DC the former murder capital of the world! As he hollered out individuals names of people that seem to always follow him to just about ever one of his sold out shows…he even called out segments of each DC barrows as a show of appreciation for their loyalties and support. It took the main stream awhile to catch onto his different take on music…but he was not just the father of go-go music, he was an ambassador of all who truly love music and the lyrics of a song…he just remixed with his own flavor and called it the Chuck Brown and The Soul Searchers sound! Rock on Chuck, cause we know you got Gods Angeles grinding out to one of his sultry Go-Go songs! Even though we will all miss him, I know he got God even shaking his head to his Bustin Loose song!
Nomadic tribes traveling along forgotten
Mountain passes.
A village built upon wooden wagon wheels.
A homeless nation searching for a homeland
That no longer exists.
People cast asunder at the four winds mercy,
Without roots safety line.
Cultural diversity an unexceptionable social,
Barrier to non-conform to the societies norm.
Outcasts gypsies living on freedoms well worn
Dreaming of liberty's liberation from being
Nothing more then dusts children, drifting
As castaways upon hidden highways lost
By ways.
Beneath moonlights luminous glow, a canvas
City comes alive.
In abandonment's empty fields a flickering firer
Burns at twilight's midnight hour
Beyond no man's lands a nomadic people celebrate
A moments peace.
From those whom would destroy their way of
Life and religious beliefs.
Striking rosin to bow, the fiddler plays an ancient
While voices sing of an easier time, a simpler
Peaceful way once lived.
Mankind's kindred spirits wishing for a sanctuary,
Clinging to idealism, that one day they will find
A home at last.
Just a piece of earth all their own, to rest at peace,
Somewhere it does exist.
In such a world created by an everlasting being,
An Eden calls to them.
Until then the gypsy dance continues, and there
Voices shall be raised on high.
But at sunrise nothing is left but the cuts in the road,
From creaking wagon wheels.
And glitters dust left behind along with a lingering
The echoing songs from a nomadic people, who belong
No where but the open plains.
God's lost lambs searching ever seeking freedoms road.
As they pleased they behaved
their own manipulated
genocide and indignation
their goal: extermination!
Supreme race of what?
of humans or rats?
they changed their destiny
for hell in eternity
In a planet of many
millions were killed
because some ignorant
thought himself as God
However more ignorance
blinded the ones who followed
they got away with murder
while the devil ate their souls
No matter the color,
sex and religion;
everyone born on Earth
to this world belongs
Supreme race of who?
with guns and arrogance
at the end, dust you are
and your target survived!
We could have run
And tried to hide.
But I promised Martin
I'd stand by his side.
The fear of death, hatred and pain.
He could oppress by peaceful change.
We could have tried
To run and hide.
But either way
He would have died.
So I gave to you my dream.
And carried on in peaceful means.
Now I join my love so true.
And leave this Dream Of Peace to you....
Some times they say the great and mighty do fall…
And the penguin story of greatness, should be heard by all.
Polar bears are mighty and cunning with massive brute strength.
But they messed with the penguins, a mistake, I do think.
The polar bears went after the penguins and cute little chicks.
So you'll never guess what those cute little penguins did.
Using the most courageous penguins as a target so nice.
They lured all the polar bears, for the first time, out onto the ice.
The greedy bears moved out in force for the kill.
But the penguins pushed the ice flows into the currents windmill.
So intent on dinner and full of themselves, were they that day…
That the polar bears didn't notice the ice caught in the currents sway.
The polar bears were way out to sea, before noticing their plight.
And, by then, the penguins were safely at home tucked in for the night.
You might say, the current was a friend to the penguins that day.
For it eventually sent those polar bears to the North Pole far away.
Now the moral of this story is here to easily understand.
Brute strength is not the greatest thing to cherish; it is far greater to plan…
And, never turn your back on a penguin I say.
They're the reason there's no polar bears at the South Pole, to this day.
Tell Me A Story Contest
Dear heavenly father
I pray to you now,
submitting myself humbly
with my knees on the
I know you seen the
times I messed around claiming that I knew
you but threw your
name to the ground, understanding why
you cast upon me
your frown.
I don't deserve
nothing more, unless
its your anger a
fury of course.
I've done so wrong
yet you continue to
let me go on, why
you choose my life
to have such a
hold on.
Show me my purpose
if its good I'll
accept it if it's
bad I deserve it.
I'm still young and
not very wise I
believe it's the
reason why I put
on this disguise.
You know which one,
it fights a lot
and plays with guns.
Lord you know how
I can rid of this,
yet you give me freedom
of choice and a bad
decision is what I'm
left with.
Your angels constantly fighting to protect
me, set me free from
this evil and let
my love shine for
If not than help me proceed to things that
are right and not
wrongfully, to help
me make a decision
willingly and not
end up beat up and
battered spiritually.
I try to pray out
loud lord you know,
but my feelings are
at there utmost when
I write to you
through the Holy Ghost.
Lord hear my cries
and have mercy, let
me drink from the
spiritual cup, please
Drained to my very heart by our slow-paced arrival,
I wander through tasteless decor to the metal arches
Beyond which a future is unfurled.
My bag's innards are spilled like blood in the Bible
Before the cold gaze of the armed man who marches;
He holds the key to this new world.
The mechanistic arch stands and takes quasi-sentience
Beside passport control, piercing my finely popped
Eardrums with sonic solemnity.
I am refused by technology but stagger forward hence
Into baggage claim where a suitcase pile is propped
Up like a holiday Tetris calamity.
My suitcase is soul black and with difficulty is found,
In its lucid eagerness to fasten itself a faux family;
Airports are filled with pretences.
Now we are away again, small trolley safe and sound,
On the road from snow, heat is where I plan to be.
Our intrepid journey commences...
Welcome to my home for this is where I'll stay
It's where I was born, and where I'll end my days
It rests on the banks, of the Caledonian Canal
Surrounded by it's Highland beauty, in typical enthral
Cedars, Firs and Birch trees, iconic in their settings
Rain clouds often surround us, cascades them in their wetting
Then there's the carpets of heather, that cover clannish grounds
Where you can tip toe over it's surface, and not even leave a sound
To view the blooms of gorse, and marvel at our thistles
Just leaves you so in awe, walking with a whistle
We appreciate what nature gives, these breathing awesome beings
To watch them in her wilds, we rub our eyes at seeing
We are steeped in wondrous history, some good and not so grand
But nowhere on this earth, will you have stepped on welcomed lands
So welcome to my home, of mountains and the glens
Where us Highlanders reside, the ultimate of men
Where art thou now, woman with flashing light,
like fingers of God freezing time and men,
in black and white. Thou art not here,
but thou art here forever like death could not
pinch thee away from my eyes
nor hide thee beyond the chronicle of Mumbai.
Many will rest but thou will not, thou weary soul.
I saw thy work hanging like the lynched Messiah,
and saw the truth; life has no voice to speak thy praise,
but death … thy worship raised, like Lazarus from the grave.
The Walk
An elected position walks into transition, but not without apprehension.
Thrusted forward into accountability, a " word" that was lost in recent financial history.
Blame and blasphemy encircles him for others greed, carelessness, incompetency and
Unlike the blind man to our today's society, anger creates a false reality.
A "change we can believe in", is the course called destiny.
Persecution upon every action or direction met with resistance by those who remain held in social captivity from their own personal experiences or enthralled perceptions of " what ought not be".
Prepare the world, for the world is watching and they see, that without corruption
and a massive scale of discrimination , injustices and judgments as their plea, they are not happy nor do they believe that they can or that they will succeed.
May forgiveness and mercy find it's place upon his adversaries as well as for him whom they do this unto in the sight of he.
People, we call ourselves, "we"; therefore, "we must not lose focus , the walk for change remains on our compass to destiny and real facts vs. opinions will be our guide for future history.
copyright@2010 by Carrie M. Love-Atkins
Have you ever wondered what happened to the men?
Who signed the Declaration that made this a free land.
Five were captured by the British. Branded traitors, tortured, died.
Twelve men lost their homes and land. Ransacked, burned what was their lives.
Two their sons imprisoned. Two sons fought and died.
Nine killed in the Revolutionary. Pledged their fortunes and their lives.
Twenty-four were Jurists and Lawyers brave and true.
Eleven of them merchants. Nine farmers , all who knew.
If caught death would be eminent. To sign with quill or pen.
Have you ever wondered what happened to these men?
Their livelihoods were ruined. Their ships swept from the sea.
Stood against the British Navy. OUR FREEDOM WASN'T FREE.
Have you ever wondered what happened to the men.
Those Patriots of long ago. Could you be as brave as them?
I am the fallen one, one casted away,
A reminant of a broken promise
Man shakled for one dying wish,
My vissicitudes haunt me everytime
The sound of those blazing drums,
I heard the music mystifies us all,
Saves a man from a Fall,
The strings are being pulled and the chorus chants,
The melody which melts us all,
I heard music has power: To cure and transform
I am still the same; The Man with a broken promise
Caught in the realmn of this heaven and earth
My body becometh the prison of my soul
I am a composer, A composer in oblivion – Looking
Looking, for the soundtrack to my escape.
Sat Ba Barret restless in her room
Drinking death in dark and gloom
Tragedy seemed her last name
Despite the books that were her fame
Letters reached her by the score
But one kissed paper touched her core
Robert Browning made her wild
Exuberance flared—she was a child
A woman forty –heart on fire
Now she had but one desire
A partner for her life she sought
Her father raged—her brothers fought
And so she, in the dead of night
Began a journey—love's mad flight
They wed with maid and cousin there
And off they sailed like on a dare
Tossed her frail and lifelong curse
Dared the gods to do their worst
She won the man and mated prize
Found her reflection in his eyes
First night was a burst of tears
Maid was sent to soothe her fears
Downstairs help was all a twitter
Certain Ba was dry and bitter
Old maid and a cripple lass
With intellect none could surpass
Now she's wed and this first night
What would happen—tup or fight?
Footmen bet on Browning luck—
Old maids were like sitting ducks
But when they saw dawn faces glow
Even shallow hearts did throw
A prayer that heaven smile on them
Such naked love sang out 'Amen'.
One day I'll change the World.
One day I will be heard.
One day, Someday,
The World will change,
And I will be known.
Thin is the veils mist descending, thickening as
Mornings rise yields unto the daylight, a shrouds
Coven of fog, envelops these tribal mountains.
Blackened by the touch of the great spirit, blessed
In his eyes of immortality, held holy unto my native
Where the black hills cut between the earth and sky,
This is the last of the sacred ground, beware white
Devils, for here sentinels watch amongst
The rocky face.
In shadows illusions do the guardians live,
The phantom warriors, a tribe without
A name, a people whom have no face,
Translucent survivors, of a forgotten nation.
Stealth chameleons, moving in random motions
Realm of silence, ghost figures belonging to the
Mountain's themselves.
Shape shifter's whom change only by natures
Seasonal rotation, living spectral beings, existing
On the edge of the woodlands wild country.
Bows drawn, arrows aligned, fists of might
Are ready for the fight, hear the braves hymn,
Carried on the breeze, echoing through the
Ancient alpine forest.
Step not one foot print here, out lander
For deaths arrows bare thy name, shot forth
By the unseen phantom warrior, whom
Exists between the realm of light and dark,
Upon the sacred mountain.
I'm watching you there dreaming,
I have to come up with a plan, I'm scheming.
Finding a way to escape from you,
You abuse me with everything that I do.
I can not live like this no more,
So I'm finally leaving out your front door.
The pain and torture has come to an end,
You hurt me so much, it will be hard to mend.
You stomped on me so much, you broke my heart,
I'm leaving you now, I need a new start.
I am scared and confused but know I'll make it through,
Leaving you is the best thing I'll ever do.
I find the courage and hold my head up high,
Not even glancing back to say a good-bye.
A weight has been lifted off my shoulders,
The memories of you are getting colder.
My spirit has been lifted, I am free,
I am no longer blinded, I can see.
My life finally has a good start,
We are thousands of miles apart.
I can walk around with a smile on my face,
My life is no longer a waste.
I did it, I made it through,
I escaped forever from you!
Passersby stared at me and complimented mom
for her gorgeous child
who smiled very tenderly,
and being moved by how
I sang my nursery rhyme,
they applauded saying, " Oh, it's so pretty! "
A few days ago, being bored I searched
for a rare coin collection sold
to me by the Bradford exchange,
but surprisingly I found a forgotten picture between
the pages of a book written by James McQueen,
and in that picture there was me at a tender age.
The more I looked at it, the more that shy and fair child resembled me,
and being amazed by my discovery,
I started living the thrill of childhood days:
remembering spring afternoons and how wonderful innocence was!
Written by Andrew Crisci
for Deb Wilson's contest, " Maybe I'm Amazed! "
2/ 19/2013
Broremann the Angler
On the pier where fishing vessels were tied up my brother
sat fishing all the while seagulls kept swooping and shrieking,
he blissfully ignored them. He had no hook at the end of his
line and when asked why he said, I don´t like to hurt the fish.
But crafty little Broremann was not as innocent as you may
think, he didn´t like fish, all those horrible tiny bones,
his mother had sent him down to the pier to try catch some
fish for lunch. He liked sausages with mashed potatoes and
stewed peas, now he could go home tell his mother fish didn´t
bite today, but made sure to put the hook on the line so his
mother could see he was really trying. An old fisherman gave
him two sardines wrapped in a newspaper, but wouldn´t you
know it the pair of sardines somehow slipped out of the paper
and made their way back to the sea.
And shake off the mantric spells ringing in your conditioned minds
but remember and preserve the great sanskrit treatises
those that refined aesthetics in dance music drama poetry in sculpted architecture
Wake! Artful India! Wake!
And see how all is not bad in the horrendous past
see how Akbar the Great lavished learning in between dangling his sabre
see how the Moghuls wrought lasting mausoleums in the name of love
Wake! O! Suffering India! Wake!
See how the British-planned railways brought you closer than ever before
see the I.C.S. examination as the equaliser the Confucian meritocracy
see how the Western savants discovered your own glorious past for you
Wake! O! India! Awake!
Recognize the truth of your enslavers' contribution to the sub-continent
heed not those who would poison your minds with chauvinistic lust
accept the historical fact as a truth that cannot recede into wishful oblivion
Wake! Now! India! Wake!
There is no shame in being taught the truth of your present or past plight
the accidents of history have reaped their toll on your memory
but now you are master of your own fate of your own history to come
Wake! India! Wake!
Wake! and show the way to a better understanding for the less fortunate
the maimed in mind the thwarted by birth those the abject shunned from sight
let them also claim descent from your Himalayan height
Wake! India! O! Wake!
Before it's too late! Before your own kind enslave you again
victim to your former masters' machinations
slave to your own listless traditions
Alas! Wake! India! Wake!
Where is that all-embracing self-negating self
You who have turned upon yourself
once too often to shed your precious blood and repent
Wake! India! Wake!
(Continued in Part One - 8)
The Sieve of Time
Cast ashore,
along the banks of time,
whirling through the passing years,
clinging to my futile scribbles set in rhyme,
Cast ashore,
thrust into an unrehearsed pantomime,
clenching slivers of joy as weariness descends,
lulled into a peaceful slumber exhilaratingly sublime.
Cast ashore,
hazily adrift, a dandelion seed on the wings of time,
trapped in the sieve of spiralling memories,
caught between pristine bliss, and reeking slime.
Cast ashore,
flung aside for no discernible crime,
my human heart thuds with elusive hope,
though battered, bruised, and covered in grime,
I stagger ashore,
embracing each moment of detached, oblivious time.
Foreign are the thoughts of others
Like the minds of past lovers
Thoughts to which we may surmise and guess
Intentions remain questions, answers yet to confess
Reasoning reached through the labyrinth of the mind
Shared reactions due to the nature of our kind
Fractured we stand, divided by difference
Splintered we are, lacking repentance
We may pass, but hope remains, burning from within
We may ignore, but hurt remains, entrenched in sin
Pride leads to want, leads to power, leads to war
War leads to fight, leads to hurt, leads to more
Rise and fall, we cycle through civilization and destruction
Start and stall, we succumb to self-imposed attrition
Time unfolds and we're forced to react
We constantly plan, but we often lack the tact
To mend the cracks that divides our kind
To embrace the momentum of our time
To believe we can and must strive for more
To turn the key and walk through the door
The night of twelfth December `69
knotted together an icy storm wind
that whipped False bay`s waves
to white -frilled blankets.
Thunderclaps against primal rocks
resonated through a ghettoe of glowing tents
on a dark, rough ,bushy patch .
Rising plaintively above the din
of drums and flapping canvas,
creole strains solicited the capricious gods
for a clement Cape .
Love songs , sweet like wine
would even tittilated mermaid`s melons,
stranding them breathless, with tails scaled.
In my sixteenth tempestuous year,
I was sickened and sullied, spoiling for a fight
with that ever- prying, ever-lying police-state
denying us
dividing us
deriding us
ripping us
whipping us
in an all-pervasive racist propaganda storm
Harmony,was forced ethnic relocation right there
in a stamp-size sea-resort next to a stinking dump.
Our yearly anticipated salty baptism,
fouled for a full ten years,
dunked in fascist soil
of a false bay with a real bite….
rubbing coarse salt in our opened wounds
Rubbing it in the flayed
William, my sire, of the black turf belly
Rubbing it in the lashed
Maxie , my ma , of white-on-black graft
Rubbing it in the spurred
Dot Adams, my oracle , of the pearled-truth tongue
imprisoned to a silent ninety-day solitary confinement. .
Yes, a full two hundred scar-studded waxes
avidly saluting the wretched who rose in revolution
drowning exploiters in the oppressed`s precious blood
Algeria whilst raped,unveiling herself,
firing fear into bared French fascism
exploding the myth of a benevolent colonialism.
"Lumumba will guide the Kongo to freedom"
grandpa agitated hopefully as revolutionary Patrice,
our dark prince of peace
died on the bloodied butts
of neo-colonial carbines.
My seven-year heart burst
in anger and pain.
A companiable heart`s balance
tilted with unease at justice , unhinged.
the periodic uprisings of people in far-flung regions
against the arrogance of anglo-saxon imperialism
salted my youth with the tears of broken children,
their blood ever spattering my angry brow.
Gargling, a gargoyle's groan gulps
From the bilingual blackness of TV,
A clockwork advertisement pulps
Knowledge into your worn mind free
Of charge. Nothing but gobbledegook
Everywhere, an insistent humming bee
And you just volunteered for the hook.
You can't understand it, but still can see
That it's appealing. Someone wants it.
We now return you to your film with Mr T,
But subtitled. There's nothing to do but sit,
enjoy – all else is static - and sweatily agree.
Your mind is a sad wastebasket of re-runs;
Rom-coms galore, dubbed films about keys,
Action films with loud explosions and guns.
Poor translation aside, I enjoy foreign Telly.
Heroes remain,
Standing tall and hear others chant your name,
Remember that all others dwell in what you came.
What you leave here becomes others domain.
Call forth the unworthy and he who becomes here after you,
Rise above the weak, worries becoming few.
Make worthy those who come after you and carry future nations on,
Educate to fulfill needs of times that have not yet come.
Come and make yourselves worthy and gather up your sum.
Hear your name called, hurry, run.
Prepare to enter Gods Kingdom on the words of thy name,
Gather around here one and the same.
Step forth when you hear them call your name,
Bring forth and leave your pain.
Prepare to be worthy and live life on a different plain.
Come forth here and never be the same.
Horrifying sounds of beating drums
Terrifying tunes of dirges
Fear-provoking songs of elegy
Wails of mothers; screams of children
Cowardice of those men that held us back
Merely with that deafening sound
In fear of the shot along we tagged
Into the unknown…
In chains of sorrow, metals of grief
Bubbles of sweat gathered on our brows
Tumbling down our faces
Salt effect stung our sore lips
Our hands scrawny, our nails broken
Fiery breath; bloodshot eyes
Heavy tongues; dusty red logs of hair
Shreds of rugs, skins scaly and flaking
Too many whips came with each fall
Too many hits came with each defiant look
We marched on in hope of independence
We trailed on in hope of freedom
The hope of reunion sparked our grimy cheeks
Our native soil was the deep away
In great culture we found our voices
In poetic ethnic mantra
Our god in sight perceiving our plight
Met by scorn, greeted by pity
And tormented by the lighter
We remained standing
The strength of one; conductor of strength to all
Arise Brother! Liberation lurks neigh
©Naa Takia, All rights Reserved 2012
i remember when
the sky was not tainted with smoke
when the oceans were clean
and the families told jokes
i remember when
there were no worries
there were no kidnappers
when life wasn't in a hurry
i remember when
people you did not know
walked by you smiling
and saying hello
i remember when
there was no pollution
people didn't use foul language
and everyone didn't fight but created a solution
i remember when the world was a better place............
< emphasis of labor day
symbolic's end of summer
picnics and parades display
American workers get chummier
A prayer for those who are in dispair along the Gulf Coast due to the BP Deepwater Horizon
oil rig explosion. A prayer for those who waited and their loved ones did not return, Amazing
Grace Wash Over Thee.
Amazing grace wash over me.
My tears are a river to the sea.
Lord above, we know you know,
the oil that is washing upon our coast.
Amazing grace wash over me,
and lift my soul up to Thee.
Lord above, hear my prayer,
for those who are in dispair.
Amazing grace wash over me.
I lift my hands to God you see.
My prayer for those who were hurt,
and those who will never return to earth.
Amazing grace wash over thee,
families were left in disbelief.
Empty hands, their loved ones gone,
Lord Jesus, guide them safely Home.
Amazing grace wash over me,
the oil is filling up the sea,
from Louisiana to Mississippi.
Animals are dying,
and people are crying.
Amazing grace wash over me.
Trim and cut
Barefoot sacred souls
Warriors plucked like sweet grass
And blue suits hunger blood like fools.
But honor forged in solid earth
Replaces heinous schemes
And Natives remain
Remember September 11th
Signed legislation, equal access, public schools and mobilized troops.
Supreme Court Justice Warren, controversial some would say, provided a goal of unity,
the removal of stigmas, fair competition, birth of global recognition and a future for the
spirited ambitious, the motivated and the entrepreneurship.
Terrorism, tragedy, illnesses, women and men of good deeds, financial wills, heirs , war
and mobilized troops indeed.
A blow to it all, the young, the old, the rich, the poor, the working, the unemployed… the
skilled, the unskilled, our service members and our vets as well as some committee bills,
but mostly the future of America's youth…. onto a system of restructuring wages and for
some of us enduring exploitation to make up for the loop.
Ranking 27th, Lower five, a time for the nation to realize, status quote can be no more for
the circle is full and it has closed.
The future is your vote like a Clef Sign on the staff and the rest will flow like a great
symphony from the past , yet to be numbered because it's not the last and the people's
opera will take the stage…we will restore the two decade old history page.
To participate, to live, to fight for the already established route, come one, join all, rally
and acknowledge your rights.
Copyright@2010by Carrie M. Love-atkins
Gentle woman of masculinity,
Her passion for the above never matched,
A war time hero leading down the path,
Fighting for the righting of all mans' ways,
A heroine she was that Joan of Arc.
Blasphemy…cloud over their hearts of gold
Their value gradually diminishes…their weapons turn to mold
Serenity…deserted them and neglected them like orphans
Their joy rapidly wears out…they mislaid their abundant portions
They yearn,
"RESTORE the walls of Jericho!"
Anguish…shadows over their dwelling, sacred place
Their weaknesses manipulate them – they're the definition of disgrace
Danger…defeats them and tarnished them as if they were worthless
Their prosperity shattered straightaway! REBUILD our merriness!
They plead and pray,
"Dona nobis pacem…"
Hear our hesitation and supplication…we're beneath the bricks and remains
We're buried alive literally! We're becoming one with the ground
Fear and despair erases our soothing dreams…we're getting washed away in the drains
We're searching for shelter…we're getting hunted down – we're barely surviving
They churn…
They coil…
They drift away…
They spoil…
In their miseries…
Does He hear their pleas?
"Bestow blessings upon us!"
Are you ignoring us deliberately?
"Give us a helping hand
And lead us to the promise land!"
Misfortune unravels in this city of bafflement
Their strengths repaired our souls…we're the definition of bravery!
Desolation and disbelief demolishes the walls of Jericho…
Does anyone sense their resentment?
Their charity transformed to greed suddenly –
Their lack of optimism and gratitude
Buried them down in captivity
How can you bear their poverty?
How can He save them from destruction and pity?
They whisper on His Holy Hill,
Don't let the battle overthrow 'em!
Let YAHWEH guide your way
Let not your faith sway
Explore and gather the teaching of the Almighty
Moses faith in YAHWEH'S power pathed the Red Sea
The Anti-Christ will come in Holy Decree
But only YESHUA MESSIAH can set us free
Dead birds, dead fishes in Arkansas I see
The Revelation Raptor ancient times Bible history
Behold the coming of the end of the world
Path ways from sin covered in silver and gold
Make haste for the Exodus from Earth to Heaven
All was created in seven and all will end in seven
So path with your Red Sea and stop your evilness
As to receive all of YAHWEH'S forgiveness
Praise Ye Yah!
©Copyright January 6, 2011 by Brian Pierre-Alexander
© All Rights Reserved
Monday Morning Affect: ESSAY; Reality is nothing but a "Dream"
Their was a question posed to me by Word Xpress, a web sight that which
I now revere. The question was a Trivial Question which was richly profound, but
Not so trivial!.... It read " Quote"-unquote...
Word Xpress
Word-Xpress Question of the Week's Trivial Question member, Tam McDowell:
"You are recruited to write a collaboration with 3 contemporary icons of your
choosing to submit to your favorite historical figure for the ppurpose of diffusing a third world war. Who would be the 3 Icons, the historical figure, and what would be the
title of your poetic speech in five words or Less?"
Ooooo, challenging!! Please post!!!
My response to Word Xpress:
From Gary Fields: If I were recruited to write a collaboration with 3 contempory Icon's
To submit to my favorite historical figure for the purpose of diffusing a "Third World War".
Who would be the 3 Icon's, the historical figure, and what would be the title or your
poetic speech in five words or less? My choice would be: Muhammad Ali, George Clinton,
And The Rev. Dr. Luther King Jr.......As presented to The President Barack OBAMA to read
"We Can Change The World".
Mahammad Ali denote' the human frailty of the condition which is man...
George Clinton (Past President) denotes' courage and change.....
Rev. Dr. Martain Luther King Jr. represent's the ultimate in Religion and Human Rights'...
I represent that, that question was trival, but not to trival and represent as a
Reality which is not a dream...But, a hope and dream in contemplation. Nor do I think
That World Peace, the Green House Effect and World Hunger are Trivial. They are facts'
Of reality which are relevant and part of a "DREAM'. The reality though, is that the
triviality of it all is so relevant and solely to the determent of the people! Only this is not
trivial....Only, this is not trivial to the Lord, it is a quest for man to over-come his own
triviality. And to hope that we do not cause self to become trivial in the eye's of the Lord,
fore He is our refuse.
This in my premonition and I do stand by it fully...Thank you to Word Xpress for having
the malice of fore thought, to bring this sublimation to the light...I thank you, your friend in the pen/G.FIELDS luv, Kiss>kiss
Gentle breeze caressing joyful cheek
Blooming blossoms in its shadow
Dancing in the wind it waves
Autumn colors so grand
Winter makes it sigh
Spring budding new
Summer blooms
Comments: The nonet poem has nine lines, with the first line containing nine
syllables, the second line eight, the third seven, then six, next five, then four and
continuing until the last and ninth line has one syllable. The nonet poem may be
written about any subject, and rhyming is optional.
Shuffling sandstone, infinite shimmering coloured pots,
TV remotes lie in tandem with jeans, shiny toy robots
Act as magnets to the unwary tourist, conspicuous in
Their presence, shorts and cameras, humid hair in knots.
Spices of hues in their hundreds to make you salivate,
Groaning shack tables of suspicious sunglasses sate
Your appetite for purchases, the sun beats down on
The market, Medina bursting with life which cannot wait.
Eyes flicker over unsuspecting strangers, enticing you
To buy, trapped by the lure of a carpet woven new
By sweating men grasping, chasing any chance to sell
The future. Will you ever use this carved snooker cue?
Flying high and
waving proudly;
perched atop
a silver orifice
the magnificent
and beautiful
flag of honor -
Old Glory,
smiles upon
a grateful nation
with resplendent
dignity and distinction.
Crackling blood lies in these forest grounds
Grass growing by its lively effect…
Growing a grimace to the environment
As the predators hung her on the branches,
carving her left eye on the oak tree
and carving her right eye on the olive tree
They grow livelier…
sucking up the carrions from off the ground
Drowning the vines that try to
suffocate and remove them for life
left to be in history…unceasingly forgotten
Now the forest has industrialized into an Eye Forest
Eyes protruding…extorting on the tree trunks
Liquefied by anguish…they had wished to escape
Their pupils punctured by arrows of death
They grow more affectionate towards the lively soul…
watching people suffer in indignity and disproof
Here's that living evidence! Hidden proof!
Hunted by the worst predator out there
in the deepest of the forest
The eyes seem to stare into your own
Locked with your frightening vibes
Feeling your dangling fears and pain
Weeping them insane…
there is no one out there to be blamed,
even in the deepest of the forest
Oh you carrion heart, soul and body
you are accepted to the collection
and grow insanely and look into a world of reflection
You are one of those who lie in the midst of obscurity
JUST wait till the day of Resurrection...
Oh you carrion soul and body
Surviving through the shadows of the forest,
roaming along the compacted forest,
moping about in displeasure
because without a doubt
you are a magnificent collection
to the eye generation
to look upon a cheerless, remorseful life,
Given away by the predator
They soon diminish the evidence…
Here's that living evidence! Hidden proof!
You're left for dead after all
Allow them to spread one of your eyes
on this tantalizing tree
Let them do their job as a hunter
Your awareness is diminished
Allow yourself to not be startled
Lose yourself,
and later on, you'll break free of pain and fear
If i was born a crayon
My colour would run its length
It would be of Saltire Blue
My countries colour gives me strength
We are the colour of the sky
It looks down on you and me
Its the colour of our flag
That flies the pride in me
If i was born a crayon
It would always be coloured blue
Just look to my veins
Blue runs through me true
.The survivors. Yes, that's what we call ourselves. We've lived through the terrors of life.
Gentle hands, soft spoken, safe in his arms. Obey, and listen, and the swirling melody of
love plays throughout the scene. And yet, this masquerade is always broken to reveal the
truth. Words sharper than daggers explode around our ears. Bruises appear on our skin.
We've "fallen", the clumsy females we are. We fell. A sports injury, a car crash, a freak
accident. Freak accident of hatred. Much like the lion, quiet and stalking, and then exploding
into a flurry of the hunt. Of the hurt. Swift blows, and blood drips from noses, tears stream
from eyes in a silver river of desperate please, bruises decorate us in tawnys and majestic
purples. Reminders of our "wrong doings". We need to pay for our sins. The only witness are
the walls, and the moonbeams that dance about our dizzy heads. On the ground. Steel toes
to the back. A crack. Fire. Pain. And then, a cool silence. The rage subsides, and apologies
appear. "I'll never do it again" and "I lost control" replay in the back of our heads. Our deja-
vu from the previous night. Always the same. Always the pain. The survivors. Thats what we
call ourselves. And by the dark dance of the moon against the velvet sky, as stars twinkle
like sequins, and fade into the dawn, we pick ourselves up. New excuses. New plates to buy.
A new alarm clock. New knives, doors, but no new hearts, stabbed until the hemmoragging
hurts like a firestorm. Alone. We are alone. We, the Survivors, have lived not an apocalypse,
not a plane crash, but the darkest part of our lives. Therapy can lock it away, but never
remove the dark stain of dried blood upon our souls. Lost. We come together, and escape.
We start anew, but are never the same. Dark dreams, paranoia haunting our shadows, and
the jumps that come with shattered glass of the clink of dishes. Never the same, but
stronger. What doesn't kill you is sure to leave a horrible scar, but wounds heal And while
scars remain as a reminder of the pain endured, we are, for the better, stronger. We
We lost Haile Selassie I
But the Lion still roars
We lost Martin Luther King
But the dream lives on
We lost Bob Marley
Who said get up stand up for your rights
We lost Malcolm X
But his racial segregation fight still burns bright
We lost Mother Teresa
She fought for justice inspiring humanity
We lost Mahatma Gandhi
He visioned humanity evolving toward peace & harmony
People seem to have lost themselves
To sinful annihilation
People have lost their way it seems like
Finding the truth & the path to their salvation
It is said no lost, no gain
And no gain, no lost
Blessed are the Meek for they shall inherit the earth
and the fullness thereof
Blessed love my brothers and sisters
©Copyright Brian Pierre-Alexander -Sept. 2011
© All Rights Reserved
There is a certain serene peace in One One is the completion of our entire exsistence If
you will accept it, we are One!!!! One is as broad as it is deep and as deep as it is
wide. In One......there is nothing to hide, there are no limits. There is ...nothing
under the sun that is not a part of One and the fullness thereof makes One complete. One
life, One love, One hope, One faith, the greatest of these being love. The two shall
become one, the One shall not be two. This is truly hidden wisdom. One vision, one
voice, one dream, one interpretation. The end of time, the fulfillment of days. There is
only one day. Today is that day!!! One day is like a thousand years, and a thousand
years, One day. One breath to breathe, one soul within. Only One purpose that brings to
perfection One human race. This is the Holy One. There is only One existence. There is
only One creation. There is only One destination. The key is to understand the power in
the fullness on One.
Should the good be judged
for not having given enough?
Some will face humiliation or reprimand,
not by Christ Himself, but by folks who bluff!
There are many mways of giving,
it depends on willingness and feeling;
the most generous ones will give abundantly,
and those who aren't...will give little eventually.
In many hands to hold beliefs,
Be it rabbit foot, or four leafed.
In which to trust, to lessen harm,
Against all odds, a lucky charm.
The totem pole and tribal dance.
The ritual of life seems circumstance.
The tribes of man the earth holds dear,
Depends on such when fear comes near.
We cater to luck, as it fills us with hope.
Some would say that it helps them to cope.
Lady Luck doesn't always look down and smile,
But it's nice to believe for a little while.
A symbol of something, hope, to believe in,
In hearts of many men and their seedlings.
To aide themselves the best they can,
Deep rooted in each, their talisman.
Write a poem with words from the heart
Jot down a sweet memory so you may never part
Remembering the days gone by
Sweet smiles and tears you've cried
Forever cemented to live on these pages
Sentances meant to defy the ages
Return to them when you need a smile to replace a frown
Or just to remember the path you've gone down
Echos of happiness, pleasure, pain and guilt
Words woven together just like a quilt
Feel the warmth as you wrap them around
Soft protection from the cold hard ground
Memories of moments you just cant forget
Keep writing your words and never quit!
The True Meaning of Christmas
During this Christmas,
let's celebrate Christ' birth.
It was for all of us that he
came down to earth.
As we think about Bethlehem
and the baby boy…
We shout glad tidings to all!
And peace and joy!
This young child was to one day
touch all of mankind.
His message of salvation…
Today… You can find!
As we celebrate and fill up
with holiday cheer…
This same Jesus is alive today…
And is always here!
Though 2000 years ago,
he was born in a manger...
You can know him NOW! He doesn't
have to be a "stranger."
Won't you spend some time and reflect
on Christmas' true meaning?
It's in the merciful arms of Jesus
that you need to be leaning!
The good news of Christmas can
certainly be found…
Across this nation.
Every city… And town!
This same Christ can bring peace
to your life today!
He loves you much more than words can say!
May HIS love bring peace and healing
to your weary soul…
It's only in him, that you can be
complete and whole!!!
By Jim Pemberton
A soliloquy comes over me as a testament to this great rock.
The names and dates and markings from generations ago unlock,
those that past this way on foot and ox and horse,
and those that never made it here; to chisel and endorse.
Silent now are the graves that sit beside this place,
and the thousands that pass by and give respect to unknown names.
A rot-iron fence sit's where some say they lay
the children that may have died here; is also where they played.
Stone scratched history, tar and paint,
the rolling Sweetwater accentuates,
this giant rock where thousands now have trod,
left with only the name,
of Independence Rock.
In the bay of icy mists, the viking ghost ships arrive, sails set full ahead,
Crashing anchors rattle loose, plunging beneath the cold murky surf,
As the hailing horns of the dead, announce to their lord, Odin, that
Valor's courageous have arrived, and wish to enter, the great halls of
Here the cold winds of the north dwell, it's chilling
Breezes flow freely, through the phantom warriors spirits.
But these rough men fear not death, nor it's harsh breath, for they
Are vikings of the northern kingdoms, and they have come for
Their last rewards treasure, to enter beyond the gates of Valhalla,
And are armed ready to fight, beside their God Odin,
In victorious battle.
In these waters of the ethereal unknown passage,
The cracking and heaving, of these heavily
Laden vessels made of vapors thin mists,
Send an eerie chill down the backs, of mortal men.
As mountain icebergs float upon the wind
Chilled oceans surface, the Valkyries approach,
Smiling beneath their shimmering chain-mail of
Brilliance honor.
On the evergreen shores, a timbered lined hall stands,
It's gates of golden pitch blaze, with fires white
Hot flames of those concurred, their souls scream
For penance mercy.
Two long swords, Chris-crossed are the gates steel dead bolts lock,
Above it's embers glow, a fierce eagle with red crimson eyes,
Grapples, it's sharpen claws, cutting deeply into the oaken shields,
On the thatched roof of the golden hall.
A lone wolf beneath therein, passes sniffing at the
Garments of the fallen men, if fears scent, the wolf so smells,
Cast out is this soul, and dammed it is forevermore.
Within the many souls do enter, a hardy welcoming at the feasting
Table mead and honey wine, is set before these hero's of honor.
But outside the ships remain tethered, awaiting for their masters safe
Return, unaware of Thor's approach, his mighty hammer set at the
Striking with thunders raw force, the hammer of power,
Brakes against the sheer ice, as quick as the lightning's flash,
Freezing tidal waves clash upwards, swallowing whole all evidence,
That these ghost ships ever existed.
Oh Valhalla, I pledge thee my life, my fighting spirit, my blood and
Body given in the name of Odin, for thy honor sake, shall I live and die,
Behold the vow's pledge of these Nordic men, known as the Vikings.
They Left so Abruptly
(for the countless South Africans, of all colours, who dedicated their lives for freedom and democracy)
the valiant ones
many known
many more nameless
the truest sons and singers
husbands and poets
lovers and wives
daughters and farmers
workers and sisters
brothers and friends
they left so abruptly
with quiet pride
steely courage
gentle dignity
they left so abruptly
leaving us our tomorrows
filled with promise
they left so abruptly
so that we may breathe
the breath of liberty
the air of freedom
the warmth of justice
they left so abruptly
leaving with us their parting gift
they left so abruptly
yet we remember them all
in the days that slipped away
and in the many more that we await
they left so abruptly
yet they remain
hewed into our memories
etched in our consciences
engraved in our hearts
they left so abruptly
and yet they endure
with us
within us
now and forever more
I have found my voice
at humanity's eleventh hour
I have found my voice because
I called upon humanity's wisdom
and asked if I can help to deliver
to you
some units of joy
and lessons of love
so I ask you to hear humanity's inevitable lovesong
And deliver me
deliver us
deliver me
on the days Jefferson spoke of inalienable rights
deliver us into that night of human liberation
when czars were overthrown and utopia envisioned
deliver me on the day Martin had his dream
deliver us on the day Paris' commune became community
deliver me
deliver us
I say deliver me
And deliver us
Because without the us
there is no me
And without the me
There is no us
humanity's struggle
constant argument between
The me and the us
Were at
Lexington Concord
St. Petersburg
Omaha beach
Paris, Prague, and Mexico in 1968
Tianenmen Square in 1989
And Occupy Wall Street
The me and the us
Are at kitchen table
Deciding whose childhood is spared
The me and the us are at
Parliaments all over the world
Deciding whose life is worthwhile
The me and the us are at the UN
Deciding which nations are worthwhile
The me and the us
History has been about the me and the us
History's first experiment in liberation
Stalin and world interrupted, still insisting on the me
so I ask you, humanity
I implore you
In the name of so many terrified faces
In the name of so many torture chamber places
I ask you here and now
At humanity's eleventh hour
brink of armaggedon's world war
Deliver me
And deliver us
Deliver us from humanity's dark night
let the children and future generations breathe
freedom's air
Deliver me
Deliver us
Deliver me
Deliver us.
Scanning for the perfect
model inspired by Leonardo's
rendering of his muses.
I ask the oracle....
Mirror,mirror on the world.
Who's the most fairest girl
of them all.
Searching high + searching
low ...finally the mags I let
them yieldingly show.
And who should I find with the
most fairest complexion?
Why,the wearers of precious
jewels recieved the first
spark of attention.
Alibaster porcelin skin ,lights +
sparkles in her eye's
Little Jenny was always found to be very prim and proper/
Outside reading her cook book by Betty Crocker/
Lazy Mary Sat on the lazy suzanne,
Butch Malone was their next of kin kissing cousin,
Along with Mary this made up the famed dirty dozen !
That sand box experiment really made us laugh/
Shortly after gym class,
Butch Malone along with the famed Benjamin Bankhead/
Jimmy Foley the local guitar player knew,
The pathway in life that we should choose/
Often he would be found taking a tremendous dump in the boy's urenil !
The path of least resistance sought about from a chosen few,
Often he would appear in shepherds clothing similar to little boy blue !
Playing guitar like he's going out of style !
That sandbox experience was designed to distract all the teacher's ?
We set up stuffed dummies just to look like real people,
Right underneath the bleacher's !
Old man Winter's who worked for Mr. Kazoo knew the score/
Very often he was being seen outside the local liqour store,
Lest I emplore,
The sand box experiment was in full swing on that one particuler day/
Butch Malone thought he was the real king ?
That was until Mrs. Maloney saw him through the window !
Next the time was drawing near/
Then so was that dinner bell,
Mrs. Maloney started talking to all those dummies,
Next thing you know she had tripped over little Johnny !
He was stuffed that was/
Flying three feet high in the air she had fell right on her face !
What a social disgrace !
Yet what had happened to Butch Malone ?
Like a little dog without his bone/
He pee pee'd his pants then cried all the way home !
The next day when Mrs. Maloney got her second wind/
She didn't even know where to begin/
For that little stunt the whole class was suspended for the day,
Yet for the gang including Butch Malone what did they say ?
All in all the sandbox experiment really did make their day !
whittlin' away
- an essay
I went to buy a pocketknife
recently for a preteen I know,
a small boy with wide dreams
and spaces to live in that match
The usual hardware haunt was
quite limited in its selection,
so I went online to find the perfect
treasure for an eight-year-old
There was a wide array of
overpriced stilettos and bayonets
but nothing of simple sturdiness
for boys with a woodsman's mindset
So I went to the long-established
area gun and tackle shop in search of
a small locking blade that a boy
could rub and oil and admire
The sales clerk showed me several
walls of hundreds of knives
that in all probability included
a full-size replica of a Jim Bowie
broad knife with blood channel
I naively asked if they had any
not quite so - lethal
He replied no, all they carried
anymore where "tactical" knives
I wondered what sort of tactics
a eight-year-old who might still
think little girls were "icky"
would be in need of contemplating
When I was a boy, all boys
carried pocketknives as a point
of practicality, whittlin' away our
childhood, by shavings and curlings
The thought of hand-to-hand tactics
regarded only to arm wrestling
and sneaking past authorities
meant parents and teachers - to play
Tactically bypassing metal detection
and doing terminal bodily harm
to anyone was completely unknown
to our innocence and, too, to society
"Tactical" pocketknives for boys (or anyone)
is a present-day mindset of our own
fear- and bravado-driven selves
that we would sleep better without
Nine and eleven are odd numbers
that do not add up to an even world
Even though we profess better selves,
our current example falls short
Little boys know not, and should care not,
for such murderous dreams.
I, too, care not for this.
It may be true, someday, if we, as people, will it
© Goode Guy 2012-10-13
Goddess of storm and dissidence, Lilith
begot by spurious legend and foolish myth
in the dark recesses of pastoral histories
where ancient mysteries
were defiled.
Illegitimate child.
Apollo's seed, by Roman Empire
inquisitional rules inquire, to her whereabouts
seeping fetid doubts, in the bones of the survivors.
Submission required by slave drivers,
And the Elite,
now on Wall Street.
Twenty five generations later,
they still hate her...
I see her in me, shadows of malcontent,
when passed by for promotion
and toxic lotion is sold to keep us young.
I hear her forked tongue,
when my voice is ignored again,
when single mothers barely maintain
poverty existence led
as punishment for being
Burkas hide the bruises
and we've run out of excuses
why so many women are poor.
Our beloved men are sent to war
for corporate profits made
and taxes paid in blood and tears.
Yes I have fears.
I fear her rolling up through me, if they only knew me
and what I hold back, they would attack,
and mark me feminist bytch,
and un-Christian.
I hear her whisper from sister to brother
from father to mother, lover to lover...
I feel her emerging with Pele's fire,
Aphrodite's desire and Venus's lust.
We must,
hear her.
She is part of us, the Mother's curse,
foist in the never ending thirst for power
and dominance over all.
Eden's free fall, orchestrated, ill-fated,
out-dated and reciprocated,
by us, still now, somehow.
The sacred dance beckons us in the second rush
of knowing... rivers flowing, ever to sea.
What will be, will be...
lost in the slipstream currents of the paradigm whore
who dares seek safe passage
to our shore.
The forest might not be mine,
But in my dreams i still cross that line.
my memories cant be forgotten
as i picture animals getting rotten.
I still want to hunt with pain,
but not to dream with any blood stain.
No to hunting,taking all animals as a pet
I hold them with care without a bullet,
though I have a meal without flesh
is like drinking water which is not fresh.
my career is no longer to kill,
But to watch the forest from a hill
My last words as I hunt no more
As I enjoy nature by the shore.
I was born out of a number,
Faces defining my world,
and I've always been inclined to cumber
the distress I witness at this berth
against the figure.
Yes, the figure that is and is not,
because I have no culture, no heart, nor home.
I am something light tricks to be, an illusion of diversity,
the colour of your teething bone,
the greatest profanity
being humanity,
I am much less-the unfortunate- the unknown.
Words are nothing without your lips,
and spite can't see without some tongue.
So being human cannot reason
without some puncture to the lung.
If there is a God he is not here,
the reliance of invisibility
is one to me
an unintelligibly cowardliness of fear.
You want the air, to take care of what you said was your own will.
You want new souls to suffer for an ancient bill.
You want me to stand and say I am sorry for something I haven't done,
when you're the one,
who is ticking the times tables incorrectly.
Today will be tomorrow and soon after the great past,
If you don't want history
to be seeded in misery
then you should stand out and make it last.
I was born out of a number,
mathematically spiralled into life,
and so far I still find it a struggle
to understand the joy of waking.
To be born is to be alone,
To live is to be surrounded,
To die is to be free,
but for that you must work first.
And I don't barter with this curse,
if there is nothing- I may as well exist a little first.
But what I can't compose is how I see these faces,
where others separate by numbers, words and races,
I only see one in the mirror:
Co-incidence (n 1 a chance occurence of simultaneous or apparently connected events)
Up, down.. left and right,
It's all around us, like the day and the night,
Too big to miss, but it's beyond our sight,
It's there.. and it isn't. Nearly is.. but not quite!
You people are ALL right.. so I'll try to be polite,
You can't fight the feeling.. 'cause you haven't got the might,
Can you handle the truth? Get a grip and hold tight,
'Cause it will set you free! Blow your mind like dynamite!
In the beginning.. I'm sure you know too,
This World was created, it's all been thought through,
Evolving on que, under skies made so blue,
Plant's came before us, just so they could give to you.
Sorry, I'm repeating what you already knew,
But how did these plants know to sow the seeds that grew?
So they slid through our bellies, waiting in our fertile poo?
Symbiosis with the Planet.. does this all sound true?
What about us? Why are we here?
Why all the questions? It is obviously clear!
It all makes sense, so there's no need to fear,
Don't confuse the matter, because it's simple my dear!
We have got ears.. so that we can hear,
But why give us a brain? Because year after year,
We just dig a deeper ditch.. and then flood it with tears,
When the end draws near, will you hear any cheers?
I want a big applause, when I finish this race,
If I finish first.. I won't say "In your Face!"
Try to look good, don't end it in disgrace,
Or even take it slow, and set a nice steady pace.
Never give up! Learn to lead a merry chase,
Up the garden path, throughout time and space,
And just in case, we end up lost in this place,
The case will be closed and we'll be gone, without a trace.
Abraham Lincoln was the very one.
In the year of1861.
While at war word had come.
"A soldier in blue slept through his watch.
And unless forgiven would soon be shot."
Nonsence! He said I know this lad.
To kill this boy would would be most sad.
I'm sure he fought from dawn to dusk.
The sleep he took God knew he must.
Forgivness granted! Go stop this act.
There's been enough death. His honor's intact.
Compassion and wisdom was Lincoln's forte.
On February 12th let's say HAPPY BIRTHDAY!
I realize: I must not complain..
For all I have, some wants to attain..
It's not to much nor to plain..
Yet, it is enough for years to gain..
I'm neither rich nor poor..
Nor I am sick lying in bedroom..
Nor I am a person under odorous fumes..
Nor I am a being not in timely tune..
Trials stripped me off from comforts..
Obstacles lead me to tackle each effort..
Disappointments made me all the more on rapor..
Failures didn't keep me long bended injured...
I don't speak as to be proud..
I want to tell the whole world..
I have my God beside and around..
Keeping my feet totally still on ground..
by: olive_eloi
' Sara Kendricks - Senryu … ' 48th Senryu
Sarah: Means Princess ( Gen. 17: 15 )
She Was Abraham's Mrs.
… Faithful, Like Kendricks …
Shine Your Light Too, Sara
Children Are Almost Home …
Your Poet-Sis
When I was a kid, i believed that I would never stop growing. I measured myself, and knew that everything taller was a glimpse of the future.
We would all be giants eventually. The tallest man that ever lived was named Robert Wadlow. He couldn't stop growing. On his first day of school,
he was taller than his father. They say, that when he tripped on the playground his knees made twin craters from falling so far. By the time he was 10, the dirt in his home town was pot-marked like a second moon.
Size always seems to matter most when we are falling. An ant dropped from an airplane will survive with no injuries, if an elephant slips 3 feet,
it's legs will snap beneath it, and or us, it is those dreams that we remember most. The ones where the harness breaks.
Where you step from the roof of a building without knowing why. When a plane rushes back toward the earth like a lost lover. We always wait just before impact, unsure of shattering or survival,
and unable to accept our own size.
Maybe this is why we hunt the large animals to extinction; To make ourselves seem greater. In the end, the victory of the atom bomb was not in the arms raised, but it's ability to topple all of the smallest creatures. We dream of surviving as mountains; of never having to look up again.
We long for longer conquests.
The ship vaster than the ocean.
The fire dwarfing the fuel. We expand. We expand,.
Weapons add more than just inches to your arm span. When you fire a gun, you can touch someone a thousand of feet away just think of all the giants our wars have already created. Cemeteries are like an infinity of white cross hairs. Mass graves that are just twisting of what we have always wanted; A mountain built from our bodies. We expand, we expand,.
Our empires, stretching like red lips opening into the widest sssmile, and then swallowing the face whole. We build our largest statues for our war heroes, greater your conquest, the taller we will make you. We are taller than our fathers now. We cannot stop growing. Robert Wadlow did not want to be a legend. He wanted to train as a lawyer, but his hands were to large to
write and type with. He died at age 22, half an inch short of 9 feet from an infection he never felt, because his nerves could not transmit signals that far. So stop trying to be statues.
Feel the signals your feet send back to you and say "It is good to feel this close". It is good to live in our own bodies. Our bodies are whispers. Are bodies are matchsticks in the dark that light the small parts of us; The parts of us that can accomplish impossible things.
Panic consumed our Nation,
Fanatic cowards
Tried to shatter our union,
But United We Stand.
Always and Forever
God Bless America
BY: Sabina Nicole
My father and my mother sat me down one day
to tell me how wonderful that I was growing O.K.
The years passes by as I got to be a teenager
with high hopes of becoming the first young manager
Life turns out a manager job is not for me
so I kept things to a minimum working hard you see
My family had taught me with all do respect
the life we lead is the image of our age in an aspect
Like queens and kings we bow our head
to the people who is wiser in age even when dead
Life as our guide the time we have aged
is what we leave behind that we are gaged
In prospective we are the stars and we are the earth
because we age and leave behind a new birth
To those that seek such blessing of heart
remember this age is respect for living from the start
Do you remember your father, mother, and teachers
they are the ones cheering you on, sitting on those bleachers
Friendship is the state of both people being the best of friends. Friendship also means that one person is to protect the another person (man and/or woman) from all kinds of danger, even being taken advantage of. There's always a difference between two people being just friends and both best friends (a boy and a girl) falling in love with each other, especially when they've known each other since they were babies or elementary school. Building friendships mean that he and/or she has built the bridges that will never break or burn unless they'd betrayed each other by having affairs with their boyfriends/girlfriends, selling them out to the the wrong crowd (including the devil), and that kind of stuff. It seems that without each other, they're nothing. Both people, including those from either elementary school, middle school, high school, or college really need each other, especially when they will have found out that their spouses or lovers have been cheating on them with somebody else. The greatest thing everybody should learn about friendships is that all friends are there for each other every single day. And the other greatest thing about friendships is that they've got each others' backs, especially when they're falling on hard times like facing reality, dealing with being decades old, that kind of stuff. Let's hope that all friendships don't end in pain, sadness, and suffering. And if these people continue to stay the best of friends for years and years, even through out all of the school reunions, things will always be the same. I hope all friendships stay stronger than ever forever.
(January 15, 1929 – April 4, 1968)
they shot you down
all those years ago
your dream lives on
and always will
for though much has been
gained since you dreamed
your dream
there is much to fight for
and much more to struggle for
and much, much more
to fight for still
your dream resounds in
our hearts and we pledge
this to you today
for though they shot you down
all those years ago on a memphis day
we shall overcome
this we do believe
deep in our hearts
we shall overcome
(for Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.)
The binding groans open
And lets me in
Plunging into the depths
Of a cream colored world
Scents of ancient tomes fills my soul
And I'm addicted
I need a fix
I really need a fix
And I inhale like I've never breathed before
My eyes glaze over, and I'm g o n e
Universes I never knew appear
Black holes suck me in, Supernovas explode
Stars dazzle my eyes
As the words sprint across the page
It stole my heart, it did
I've never been in love like this before
Running fingers over the inky pages
Texture filling in the ridges of my fingerprints
Flooding my identity
Knowledge makes me
Builds me up to take me down
Into myself
Over and over
Inspiring new thoughts
That I thought were new
But really were hidden under
The dusty covers
If we save literature
If we save books from censorship
If we promote literacy
We can save mankind
And it's history
The bad and good
Lessons learned and yet to be understood
All the falls and tumbles
Rises and stands
All within the inky pages
Held in my hand
MVP, Lebron James
You're the king of all your games
A true color of a leader
which fades to no reader
Is starting point
To a remarkable
Inspired by Richard
Lamoureux Cinqku poems.
And Specially dedicated to
It is built on pain and on sorrow
To always beware of what comes tomorrow
Although to some it burns from the past
Like the flames of hell rising fast
But yet be happy, there is some hope
Some happy things to help those cope
With problems that come, but memories gone
Into the ashes where only death belongs
A voice could say, "Beware what you seek."
This voice wants all to be dreary and bleak
It calls for a unity of past damnation
It wants the world to have a remorseful sensation
Though, it cannot be stopped but can be fought
The memories from those that can be forgot
So live life well, allow no worry to fly
The days of sorrows and lies have gone by
Think of the days where it will be perfection
From the day of birth or the grave-sites reflection
It can never break what was built in a heart
Never worry, only love, for love is thou art
Each day another timber
Was set in place.
Letters were spoken,
Read in streets, understood-
Against Jacob's children
Until the gallows were finished.
The builder's own neck
Was fitted with the rope.
< left behind
how divine
his choosing
my losing
unfinished work
must assert
I truly understand
" God's" choice in plan
for " He " needs bigger wings
to carry all my things
and when those clouds spread eagle
it will become finalized and legal
my final destination
will be "Heaven's" sensation
and the reunion will be nil
with family and friends lying still
so for now I'll wait
for my sweet "Lord" to set the date
to return for only me
in clouds more of three
Entry For
Catie Lindsey's
Left Behind Contest
Gl All
It is so difficult to write about one's beliefs,
On the Freedoms and Liberty we have.
Throughout our history events are replete,
Of the ones who have died, our Freedoms to save.
I go back in time when I look at our past,
And wonder if our children will see.
The pain and strife born in Freedom's birth,
And the lives that have been sacrificed for Liberty.
The Revolution started all the fuss,
When King George wanted his taxes.
It got us the Freedom we used for all,
And lives to this day when we talk of the "Evil of Axis".
We've had to fight as a people united,
By cause, or strife, or enemy attack.
From 1812 to Afghanistan,
For Freedom and Liberty to stay on track.
There have been too many wars,
And battles in name have never been few.
Like Chateau Thierry, Iwo Jima, and even Tet,
Where our countrymen have paid their dues.
We have had the plights of other concerns,
That many around the world don't construe,
As a helping hand to all of them,
Except when they need us to.
Some say "Why send an Aircraft Carrier to a blighted zone,
Where people need all kinds of medical support"?
They forget that one of those ship is a floating city in itself,
With aircraft, hospitals, doctors, and our country's flag it will sport.
Then there is the overwhelming clamor,
Of those who want to come here to live and stay.
They know so little of our history,
Only that Freedom and Liberty is our way.
They want that Freedom for themselves as well,
And a Liberty which will let them choose.
They see us as a beacon then,
When their own freedoms they all but lose.
Life, Liberty, The Pursuit of Happiness,
The words our Founding Fathers swore...
Are Actions we take for granted each day,
With the Freedoms which we adore.
What does Freedom and Liberty mean?
It's just as plain as plain can be.
Because I want the Liberty to live my life,
And have the Freedom to wear it on my sleeve.
Rome, NY
Unto these schemes renew
The temper held in sway;
This time, listen, like the murmur
Of your heart; so tender,
So subtlety does it keep time with
The Universal notion:
If Angels cross the oceans,
if Devils soar the skies;
if solace seeps the surface,
How shall you travel?
I am told,
Nightly growing old,
Accept it.
JANUARY 21st
This Dream To You! Coming true on Inauguration Day..
I could have run,
And tried to hide.
When God said,
"Go against the tide."
Preach Unity,
And never fight.
All races on earth,
Have equal rights.
In Peace and Love,
"I Have A Dream."
No prejudice,
0r hatred,
Life Serene!
I could have tried,
To run and hide.
But either way,
I would have died.
So I chose,
To carry on.
To show in peace,
We can be strong.
"I Have A Dream."
It must come true!
And now God gives,
This Dream To You..
------- Author's Notes -------
In honor of Martin Luther King Jr. and Our new President Obama
"Father of Independence" Nonet Poetry
General Aung San was a hero
and father of independence
of our country of Myanmar.
Aung San fought the British
and went to london
to claim freedom.
He was killed
by the
written by: Dr Ko Ko Thein
Salt Lake City
I'm gone always be your brotha
Loving you like no other
Cause u always my sista
Whether I'm with ya or not with ya
There's no confusing though with the truth
About how strong we are
When it's us two
When we walk into the distance
With our crown naturally adorned
See us coming, sound the trumpets
And blow all the horns!
We are majestic
In our journey side by side
Whether we are doing the Tennessee Waltz
Or doing the electric slide
Its us doing us and we shan't forget
The history we come from
All of the precious time spent
By our intellectual ancestors
Who paved the way.
& lit the path for Obama to command his presidency this day
It is instilled in us all
If we search inside our minds
Being president is not for everyone
But, we can all have our shine
Look at Michelle Obama, such a regal queen indeed
Sleeves or not it don't even matter
She is not in the background of any scene
Showing us the first family
Unlike any we've ever seen
The daughters Sasha & Malia so intelligent & pristine
Taking residence in the White House
Built by the sweat of our brow
I know our ancestors would be proud
And thinking what's next on our agenda now!
Kashan© Nov 16th, 2009
A dusty old town-so quiet
a man, a traveler
takes off his pack-so heavy
and reclines for a rest.
they dont know his name, they never do
they wont even bother to ask
he troubles them-his mysterious past
leads them to prejudiced views
but were one to ask, for if naught but a name
what would this traveler say- would he speak?
a word, no. a name, he would give them and pass
"Im Wanderer, the world is my street."
Wanderer-what a name
does it signify much of his life
or is it a code- a cypher?
an enigma to his past.
Gracious smiles, a waiter waiting.
The service: quite nice actually.
The drinks cool and food sating
My average appetite factually;
Who knew they had coca cola here
In the middle of the desert... odd
Isn't it? I ordered water and beer
And here arrives our saviour, god
And leader, dressed in a brown
Shirt despite the pre-mentioned
Heat. He never wears a frown,
Even at rush hour not tensioned.
7.30 comes and goes, morning
Or night, we arrive, are seated
And eat. The waiter is fawning
But nice, the food is all treated
And we eat it all up, fulfilled by
A fountain of beverages he will
Provide. Full, we give a goodbye,
And place tips away from the till
So the manager cannot see, risky
Business. But how to divide the
Cost? Calculators grant only frisky
Fractions, I only had a mint tea!
The first written poem by Mankind
dates back several thousands years...
even the Bible writers used it to inspire
as King David did in his spiritual Psalms.
Then, the intellectual Greek and Roman poets
performed it daily in the amphitheaters of their great cities
as the most popular art form so meditated for anologies...
and it never gets old, it still inspires us with its verse.
Read all genres: from ages past to our present time,
to discover that human feelings are equally sublime:
joy, pain, hope, love, triumph, defeat, envy, betrayel, hate and happiness...
among those you have read so far: which ones have made you speechless?
Be overjoyed that our poetry will live on after we'll be gone,
our names proudly set in stone: it's the greatest honor bestowed upon us;
and the ones who admire our work will definitely carry on,
hoping that they too will partake in that ureal glory...even surpassing ours.
For Mother Teresa
to see...
the clarity of beauty between the murky folds of life
to see...
the simple truths of living
between the horror and the endless strike
to see...
the innocent smiles of the children at play
while the elder preach hate and division and continue to slay
to see...
the endless yearning for that simpler better place
away from the hollow emptiness of this ostentatious space
to see...
the open vistas of this pale blue dot
the soft reds and fruity greens as this home is all we have got
to see...
the tears of the dispossessed who have been cruelly cast aside
and while we look the other way from their tears we may never hide
to see...
the endless hunger and despair and killing and greed
in the name of God or of ideology or of some or the other creed
to see...
and to see it all
and still stand tall
to hold on to the humanity
that resides deep within us all
may be our only saving grace
and though all of this sounds quaint and saccharine sweet
I need to remember all that I've said
the next time I look into a teary-eyed desolate face
to see...
that being human is simple if we only look beyond ourselves and see
that we are all one, him and her and them and us and you and me...
A God of the Past & the Future
"1 Then I saw "a new heaven and a new earth,"for the first heaven and the first earth had passed away, and there was no longer any sea. 2 I saw the Holy City, the new Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God, prepared as a bride beautifully dressed for her husband. 3 And I heard a loud voice from the throne saying, "Look! God's dwelling place is now among the people, and he will dwell with them. They will be his people, and God himself will be with them and be their God. 4 'He will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death' or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away." 5 He who was seated on the throne said, "I am making everything new!" Then he said, "Write this down, for these words are trustworthy and true."
Rev 21:1-5 NIV
Although world history is taught
As the history of civilizations,
God is in control of the past and the future,
As can be seen from Genesis to Revelation.
God created this earth and the heavens,
And will destroy it with fire as well.
The earth and heavens will be made new,
That's what John the Revelator did tell.
Human history had a definite beginning
And faces a glorious future too.
Of this we can be certain,
Because God's words are trustworthy and true.
The Lord knows the end and has revealed it,
To those who choose to seek.
The old will give way to the new;
The proud will give way to the humble and weak.
History had its beginning,
And will have its end as well.
The prophets acted as historians,
And the future so often did spell.
God sustains all His creations
By natural laws that are good,
But some humans choose to ignore Him;
Their self-sufficiency not understood.
The rise and fall of kingdoms
Is in God's powerful hands.
The great controversy between good and evil,
Man only partly understands.
God is A God of the Past and the Future;
Time stands in between.
Christ has borne our griefs and carried our sorrows;
Our stranded history will soon be nothing but a dream!
Copyright © Maureen LeFanue 2012
David and King Saul…
I think of the story of David being
"hunted" by King Saul.
As "God's chosen,.." David may have thought;
"Is it worth it all?
The many times he hid in the caves and "underground…"
I'm sure he had his times of happiness…
And times of feeling down.
Through all of this, as he was being
chased by his "adversary…"
God provided a safe place for him. A "sanctuary…"
David decided not to take matters into his own hands…
Even though he was being chased all over the land.
Though David found out where King Saul had slept…
His promise to God… He surely kept!
He chose not to take Saul's life.
The opportunity was there…
He didn't want "vengeance…"
He was someone who cared!
David trusted all that he had to a
God who reigns supreme..
He knew that one day… God would take
care of everything!
Do you feel like your life's "being chased around?"
Perhaps there's no where to go...
No safe place to be found?
I'm going to tell you… There's someone who's right here!
His love surrounds you! You've nothing else to fear!
This same God who kept David out of harm's way…
Is here right now! And can change your life today!
An everlasting life with Jesus…
Is what you could be missin.'
Won't you give him a chance…
Hear his voice… And listen???
By Jim Pemberton
< 5 Vows
Holy Wow
Here We Go
Nice And Slow
Non - Violence
Non - Stealing
Celibacy / Chastity
Non - Attachment / Non - Possesion
Life For Thee
It Must Be
Entry For
Deb Guzzi's
Broad Horizons
The 5 Vows Of Janism
Committing myself to action;
I stopped to put all plans away.
Determined to author my Life's book pages,
I began the business of today.
I did away with past and future:
Losses made and profits gained;
That to lose and this to gain.
With the past already accounted for,
And future yet to be taken account of;
It's a waste for me to keep their books -
My business is today
Sitting by a moss-covered tree illuminated by sunlight at three,
he plays the very song that his anscestors played yesterday;
remembering what the peaceful and wild land was and will be...
by accepting the fact that his tomorrow is decided by destiny.
He can spend an entire afternoon playing a hand-made flute color chestnut,
as every breeze-lulled maple tree seem to vanish in the increasing, grey fog;
and if his music with shrilling, melodic notes is a devise to find his stranded dog,
he will have the best friend to guide him safely home through beams of twilight.
Play, handsome warrior the melody you forefathers played on those efflorescent days
underneath the same oak tree to celebrate their free manhood;
and resembling them with long hair and piercing, dreaming eyes,
you don't expect that intruders from other lands would compromise your happiness.
Foxes, grizzly bears, coyotes and buffaloes hear your music and come around to peek:
they know that you wouldn't hurt them and they wonder who's the Great Spirit;
little they suspect that they will be hunted down by the new-comers from the East;
be their friend, warrior...promise them protection when they'll encounter the Beast.
All that you behold today, may be gone tomorrow making you weep,
grasslands and prairies will tun into towns and cities to make way for greed;
and blood will flow abundantly on meadows where only wildflowers grew...
devastation everywhere with mother's screams by red rivers not so blue.
You must have had dreams of what was coming with a spectacle so gruesome,
take heart...your tomorrow is decided by destiny, pray that you won't be harmed;
continue playing your flute by remembering everything that you deeply loved,
and if you'll die fighting heartless men, I'll remember that look so lonesome.
Tension on fingers, drawn to face,
Eyes ahead, judging time and space.
A life in the balance, measured and weighed,
A breath no longer, will be taken this day.
Smooth release, as fingers relax,
Shaft accelerates, flash in time, looking back.
Heart of antiquity, a soul of eternal light,
Air through feathers, guided by ancestral sight.
One single shot, in this senseless time,
Remembered connections, awaken and we find.
That which once was, will always be,
The flight of an arrow, released and free.
I born, I blak.
I grow up, I become blak.
I see, I blak.
In the sun, I blak.
I scared, I blak.
I sick, I blak.
If I die, I will become blak.
Rotten I blak.
And You white fellow,
you born, you pink.
You grow up, you become white.
You go in the sun, you red.
You cold, you blue.
You scared, you yellow.
You sick, you green.
When you die, you gray.
And you called me coloured!
Black is ebony not attificial.
And you called me black.
whites and Blacks come together,
the voice of apathied is crying
In the grave,calling on
unity in diversity.
Golly, where do I start when there are so many of them
Some B-Movie actors but so many are gems
The third movie he starred in was with Hannah in Splash
A mermaid so cute, boy her squeals made me laugh
The next one that secured me to liken this dude
Was in Dragnet as Pep Streebeck, his acting so good
Turner and Hooch to A League of Their Own
You can tell by his acting that this actor has grown
Then came the classics that brought him to the fore
Sleepless in Seattle and Forrest Gump, Toy Story so adored
Catch Me If You Can, The Terminal and The Da Vinci Code
Oscars were sure to follow, to the podium he proudly strode
The guy I have chosen, is the fabulous Tom Hanks
In his role Saving Private Ryan, I say a warm-felt thanks
I still remember that day when you were a kitten,
You were so small and fit in my hand like a mitten.
I knew when I held you I would raise you,
The love I felt was more than true.
I was with you at my grandma's till I could take you home,
Then the journey of raising you began...
We brought you home and I showed you our house,
I still remember when you saw your first mouse.
You jumped out of my arms and made your attack,
I stood there and watched you get your afternoon snack.
Then we were deciding on names for you,
I just felt something with dexter and knew it was true.
I was only 8 and didn't know any better,
I did some things that I still regret.
I tormented you so bad,
Looking back it makes me sad.
But I grew up and knew how to take care of you,
Even though what I did when I was younger made me feel blue.
You grew up so fast,
I never thought me and you as buds would last.
But it did I'm so proud for that,
Because in the end your my cat.
Then came the day we would move into a bigger house,
But you never again got a hold of a mouse.
You were so scared but I took you under my wing.
I showed you around the house and you were so happy.
I redeemed myself from everything I had done.
Things got better between us as the days flew by,
The love strong that were flying so high together in the sky.
You greet me when I walk through the door,
I feel so touched that I fall to the floor.
I cherish every second that your on my bed or just saying hi in my room,
The smile that's on my face brings a tear that would make flowers bloom.
Now your all grown up and still getting older,
The temperature in my heart has gotten colder.
So cold because I know your time is soon up,
I'm struggling to figure out how full is my cup.
I only wish you could live longer and we still be together,
But we will always be best buds forever.
Hamba Kahle*, Comandante Chavez!
The light may have gone out from your eyes, Comandante,
but the torch you lit,
remains ablaze.
You may have passed away from this mortal life, Comandante,
but you have passed on,
your immortal ideals.
Today our hearts are heavy with sorrow, Comandante,
yet you left our hearts so much heavier,
with hopes of a more just tomorrow.
The light may have gone out from your eyes, Comandante,
but you live!
You live!
Hasta la Victoria Siempre,
Hugo Rafael Chavez Frias (1955 - 2013)
* - "Hamba Kahle" means "go well" in Zulu
80 paintings i gave away
an abstract to the tune of the stairway to heaven
good advice and solutions to certain ailments
written on the back
wisdoms to resolve confusion written on the back of others
some lost along the way i have not forgotten
like th one left at the library
like the one given to the homeless shelter
like the one i gave to the city center police station
the needle in the hay stack
with methods on how to escape a concentration camp
the reality on the back
every relationship in my life
the good the bad and the ugly
with all poetic cryptic heartfelt advice
away walk the hookers and cons with an enlightenment
some find a sense of enjoyment of the things they find
something you can't take back from society
as these paintings will eventually change hands
wether bought or sold
or sit in the restaraunts or homes to be looked at
one day these pieces will come together
this is intelligence trading hands in random haphazard wonder
like new tarot cards for your future to wonder
the mystery out there built on the foundations of today
an inspiration from me i got from caring about someone else
the powerful, the hungry, the victom, the oppressor, the rich and poor
ive already changed your life tomorrow
and the past is out there catching up to you today
subtle conversations of bouncing some ideas off of others
either to agree to disagree
or completely understand oneself or another
this intelligence is out there
my life story you will one day have to wonder
themes done to the lyrics of stairway to heaven
now you can see when and where i changed songs
if you can configure the one most likely to be next
in my artistic obsessive compulsive order
Dedicated to Noor Al-Maleki
You Try, You Try so hard
To put Your will Over Me
But I will Remain Free
I am So Dirty and So Very Unclean
So Please Condemn me
Sentence Me
The Crescent Is A Lie
The One I shall Try To Defy
Is it Just To Dispose
What Has Dishonored
You and Your Radical Views
You Have set me Free, Can't You See
I Won't have to face a Tyrant anymore
Your gaze used to Stun
But Now It Just Burns Under the Sun
Never Enough to Be Myself
Never Enough to Be Free
I will not Bow to You
I will not Kneel Before You
Smothering Liberty
Condoning Freedom
This way is unjust
This way only brings
out our worse
Hatred and Mistrust
War and malice no know law
You Try, You Try so hard
to put Your will Over Me
But I will Remain Free
I am So Dirty and So Very Unclean
So Please Condemn me
Sentence Me
The Crescent Is A Lie
The One I shall Try To Defy
Is Just To Dispose
What Has Dishonored
You and Your Radical Views
I am The Flame you Greatly Hate
I am The Flame you greatly fear
Some cannot handle the truth
It shows they are the Criminals
You are one of them
You're the problem
This misdeed will not live on
without the hate of your name
Honor Is not real
It's just an emotion that only you feel
You're another bulwark
Against the truth
No one Will Bow
No one Will Kneel
You Try, You Try so hard
to put Your will Over Me
But I will Remain Free
I am So Dirty and So Very Unclean
So Please Condemn me
Sentence Me
The Crescent Is A Lie
The One I shall Try To Defy
Is it Just To Dispose
What Has Dishonored
You and Your Radical Views
You Fear The Truth
You Fear the reality
you are the criminal
against all humanity
We must end these lies
Before Honor Will Strike again
You Try, You Try so hard
to put Your will Over Me
But I will Remain Free
I am So Dirty and So Very Unclean
So Please Condemn me
Sentence Me
The Crescent Is A Lie
The One I shall Try To Defy
Is it Just To Dispose
What Has Dishonored
You and Your Radical Views
She sits at the front
Rosa Parks making a stand
Rebel - for mankind
born to be a jew
a place traversed by so few
language, called hebrew
There's a girl, sitting at the back of the bar.
Waiting for a glimpse of the life that she's always wanted.
She's not looking for a fairy tale or gold.
Just a little work, and some love not from the usual mold.
He walks in with promises, ending in heartbreak and tears.
She drowns him out slowly, with new dreams and a few beers.
The girl sitting at the back of the bar.
Waiting for a glimpse of the life she's always wanted.
Two years have passed, not much has changed.
She still comes each week to sit at her corner table.
Some work, many dreams, and a few beers become her label.
The women all judge her inside their private mind.
Small town men buy her a drink, wink and smile, but aren't her kind.
The girl sitting at the back of the bar.
Waiting for a glimpse of the life she has always wanted.
She has big dreams of life, love, and the woman that she wants to be.
I sit across the bar, wishing she'd look just once more to me.
I turned my back, messed up not long ago.
She told me that she loved me, but she had to go.
I failed to show her my love, I'd hurt her badly.
Breaking her heart blindly, while loving her madly.
That girl sitting at the back of the bar.
Waiting for a glimpse of the life that she has always wanted.
Pulling the ring from my pocket, my jaw stubbornly clenching.
I push through the crowded room, and voice my intention.
Dear Beth, I will love you forever. I'm down on my knees!
Just give me one last chance, and marry me please.
That was two years ago yesterday.
And still my love grows more every day.
For the girl sitting at the back of the bar.
Waiting for a glimpse of the life she has always wanted.
As I nod and thank the bar tender, and add to his tips.
I pick up two drinks, turn to the back of the bar, a smile on my lips.
Cause there is my girl, sitting at the back of the bar.
Living the dreams of the life that she's always wanted.
Summer Gratias
When you think your alone I'm actually there. . taking away your freedom and your not even aware.
Its better this way with you not knowing, as if our true face was to show, well that would be the end of the plan as we know.
So do us a favour and keep working your 9-5 watching our T.V thinking you're alive.
The truth of it all is we run this show and even if we told you no better people would know!
As most aren't wise they do as there told, makes them feel secure. . Its psychology of old, an as we both know sheep do not lead . . but follow!
As a race
We chase the tail of approval
As a race
Cowardice abides
Dissonant souls
And dreary eyes
Measly lies
And tensions rise
As a whole
We march to the melancholy drum
And bathe in the scum
Of what we've become
Oh sadness, my old companion
You, who tore me from childhood fantasy
You, who made my joy a fallacy
Seldom is the heart
In a place willing to give
In a place worthy of peace
You're living, at least
Though you may not want to live
As a tribe
We cannot deny
As a tribe
We can no longer lie
Or divided, and lost
We all will die
Effervescent dreams
Flow down upon mother's plate
Chilled by destined fall
A time always remembered
Appearing third time of year
Season of life fades
Human apertures grow weak
Though, knowledge is strong
Love holds different stages
Bonding affections with key
Combined all blessings
Unfold into beauty bold
Each respect enriched
Of their returning faction
Crossing over great divide
To rapture rebirth
Forming times readmission
Natural recourse
Within nature is beauty
Returning humanity
"Although prejudice and discrimination has subsided over time and history, it is hidden in every corner of our present; for there is no escape from diversity in America. As hostility and violence is less prevalent some say, to say we live in a society of Pluralism, is to speck prematurely and blindly."
Port of Call
Barefoot on a talcum beach,
alone, not lonely,
with the breath of the ocean a caressing balm,
soothing pained memories away,
to the swaying of a solitary palm.
Barefoot on a talcum beach,
alone, not lonely,
feeling the brushing away of all past turmoil,
on a quest for solace, ever so hard to find,
yet comforted by the crashing of the waves,
as the tide cleanses all pain,
and leaves despair far, far behind.
Barefoot on a talcum beach,
alone, not lonely,
drenched in a sea-breeze of mist,
that hushes the ache of bygone moons,
tasting the salty tang on my lips,
as the burnished sun,
over the distant horizon,
and dips.
Barefoot on a talcum beach,
alone, not lonely,
searching, ever searching,
for a slice of solitude,
as memory bids a final adieu,
reaching under the sea so vast,
and seeking comfort in the depths,
while embracing,
the tomorrows to come,
wishing that they be true.
Barefoot on a talcum beach,
alone, not lonely,
seeing my truths drown,
as they slip beneath the turquoise waters,
feeling my heart ablaze,
with a passion that rarely falters.
Barefoot on a talcum beach,
alone, not lonely,
yet knowing that I am home at long last,
wishing the waves would wash away,
the defences that once stood,
like an impregnable wall.
Barefoot on a talcum beach,
alone, not lonely,
I have found, at long last,
my final port of call.
The Story of Job
I'm sure you remember
the story of Job.
God's blessings in his life
were greatly bestowed.
The Devil came to speak to God one day.
"I'm sure Job will curse you if I
take everything away."
Everything in Job's life seemed to be getting worse.
Through all of this, to God,
he never cursed.
All that he had-was soon to ge gone.
His "friends" told him it
"was his fault-he was wrong."
He blessed God in spit of all they had said.
He would praise God until
the day he was dead.
In all the loss and the turmoils.
His body would soon be covered with boils.
He loved God even though he lost his possessions.
Spending eternity in heaven was his obsession.
If everything in your lie was taken from you.
Would you bless or curse God
-what would you do?
Is he more important than
your house or s.u.v.?
Would you give him up for a "big screen t.v.?"
Is he your prized possession
whom you love so much?
Or are you using Christianity as simply a crutch?
For one day soon-all you have
will certainly perish.
Is it God--or this world--
you love and cherish?
By Jim Pemberton
The last Jew on Earth
after the flames killed millions
Decides to speak up
and declare
his joy in living
The last Jew on Earth
plays a game few remember
A short time ago
Someone told me the spiritual
overcomes the material
Listening to beautiful music
I tend to believe it
Our eyes were made for seeing
Our hearts for seeking peace
When time becomes of age
As dawn approaches a new days breathe
Where life in existence discovers boldly
The path to coexist.
To ward off the ashes of old
Of strife and misguided intolerance
America sees itself united
From the taint of racial ignorance.
Color has not the value of definition
Of a man behind the soul
To each individual has a name
A diamond within the gold.
The dawn of the age of acceptance
Of open eyes and open minds
Together to stand in unity
This is America defined.
©By: Darren J McMurray
November 6, 2008
(rhyme poetry)
Our nations colors are always seen,
First of all for freedom's cause.
Touching us, moving us with every scene,
In history never take a pause
Flag that led us through many wars,
Glorious stars and stripes, taking its toll.
In the end taking so much more,
Shedding heroes' blood upon a shore
With colors bright it's always there,
Symbolic cloth that our hearts adore
With so much pride that we can wear,
And display with honor right by the door!
Glorious flag that makes us unite,
Filling us all with so much love.
Blessed One from the Mighty above,
Flying high in the wings of a dove!
Dorian Petersen Potter
aka ladydp2000
August 1,2009
I've seen it torn and tattered,
Yet proudly it still waves.
I've seen it stained and spattered
With the blood of the precious brave.
I mostly see it flying high,
But sometimes it's flying low,
In memory of those who died
Not so long ago.
I've seen it draped upon,
Someone who served us well.
I wish that I could sing its song,
And all its stories tell.
No matter if it's old or new,
The majesty's the same.
Its colors are red, white, and blue.
Old Glory is its name.
Zurrieq Festa our destination
Driving off late into the night
Over terrible roads, chasing islanders
All worth it to see the sight.
The church golden and brightly lit
Shining out for all to see
Bunting and stalls lining the streets
Everywhere people, excitement is building
Bands lining up to be heard as they march.
Suddenly it's midnight!
Melodic sounds keep time with fireworks
Each display more impressive than the last
Whirling and twirling freely on posts
Physics at the base of their design
As beauty shines through in the colours and patterns
Hands clapping, people cheering, part of the moment.
I will pave the farthest road,
see my likeness known in marble and gold.
Is it power, is it greatness I pursue?
Yes, it's destined, it makes sense,
that I should come to prominence,
Oh, world, Caesar comes for you!
I will not fade, spread across Pompey's gates,
what would Cicero know of what is great?
I can say,
alea iacta est, Rome will see her day.
Damn winter, autumn, by spring,
you'll see city columns rising.
And the aquaducts will flood with the blood,
of any still defying!
May the Gods stand behind my scabbard,
may the Gauls all scuttle and scatter.
I'll not retreat, or sit on my laurel wreath,
alea iacta est!
A thousand legions strong,
scouting regions far beyond,
marching on,
alea iacta est, Rome will see her day.
A thousand legions strong,
from Athena's Parthenon,
marching on,
alea iacta est, Rome will see her day.
I shall go, I shall see, I shall conquer,
I am servent to this life no longer.
Let the world heed these words,
and be ready to feature,
Gaius Julius Caesar!
The die is cast,
It's mine, this at last,
alea iacta est,
Rome, will, see, her, day!
Thomas Paine
United States a Founding Father
Born in Norfolk an honest English man
Me proud to be part of a true Ameri can
No summer soldier or sunshine patriot
Spoke what he thought treasure no idiot
Tyranny like hell is not so easily conquered
harder the glorious conflict amour armoured
Still being inspiration in the army of freedom
his memory surely no not just my poor poem
Lover of freedom bringing common sense
the harder the conflict, the more glorious the triumph
Hater of all the established churches
Lover of the native Indian Iroquois
But no Christian burial for him
No Christian church would receive his body for burial
Bullet wounds
The criminal shoots down his
First targets
How dare you
Shoot them uncontrollably
CHAOS grows . . .
Don't shoot it!
The victims are running mad
And you pulled
The trigger
I'm terrified of your strength
DROP IT, man ! ! !
Lewis crept into Harper's Ferry
at cool dawn's light in '59
with angry John Brown,
pursed keen and unkempt
to bleed over his shawl,
then died for his wife
Mary, grew old and gray
and left that stained shawl
for grandson Langston Hughes,
to inspire him someday
Langston took Grandma's shawl
and took oppression to his heart
to rise up in other words,
"where people suffered
in beautiful language"*
© Goode Guy 2013-02-03
* Langston Hughes
How someone like you
and me
could ever be
this forever free
Never say never
Oh say, can you see
this valiant righteous fight
of the tiny 13
against the giant gorgeous gallant might
of the Royal Crown
into that last gleaming
effortlessly seeming
as American soldiers fell
and died
and their women
and Lady Liberty
rang the bell
and cried
and the little ones
so sound asleep
nestled in their bed
so peacefully dreaming
whilst their King
while their King lay dead
Hear his deep voice echo over and over in your head
You remember what he said
You remember what he said
You remember what he said
You remember what he said
You remember what he said
You remember what he said
You remember what he said
You remember what he said
You remember what he said
You remember what he said
You remember what he said
You remember what he said
as you lay there
missing and yearning
teaching and learning
freezing and burning
and tossing and turning
battledrums slow and become tribal
Yes, you too, remembers what he said:
"It is impossible to rightly govern a nation without God and the Bible"
So trumpeters blew and told
their story
the drumboys rolled
out Old Glory
My God behold
Watch Old Glory
so dignified
Stars and Stripes
thus signified
an Independence newfound
on Sacred, Sacred, Splendid, Sacred, Holy ground
Kneeling at ground Zero
Never forget
My, your, Our forgotten Hero
Ole' Father George pause and take a good look around
Ole' Father George steal the stars
just this once
just in between
the glare of royal red rockets
and hand them to
the mighty 13
and the red stripes so soaked with blood
from our beloved Mother
across the pond
Sons no more, oh no, Mother
There isn't any other
It's me now - your new younger brother
Just passing through
the bright white rays of sunlight
into the big bold box of navy blue
into starry starry nights
Ole' Father George, our hopes ignited
Your legs so weary
Our dreams excited
Thank you, Ole' Father George
Thank you, God
God Bless These States United
N*ever forget this day
I*n our hearts forever lives
N*ever forget this day
E*nemy took many lives
E*motions running still deep
L*et's remember nine-eleven
E*mbraced our brave heroes
V*iewed it all on tv screen
E*ntired world was in shock
N*ever forget nine-eleven
Dorian Petersen Potter
aka ladydp2000
September 2, 2009
My daddy served till I was six.
A Navy man. He loved his ship.
Rejecting Hero he would proclaim.
"Those who died should have that name."
Sailed many times across the waves.
Rescuing prisoners from cells as graves.
A Coxman warning of things to come.
That sound still echos to setting sun.
Blow the whistle as bugals blare!
Today Veterans shall be honored everywhere.
When Socretes, Plato and Aristotle teamed,
the line between the will to learn married the will to teach.
When Raphael, Leonardo, and Michael lived at Belvedere,
Art would see her form take shape and pave the way for years.
When Beethoven met Mozart on one Vienna spring,
the voice of God was heard through horizontally laid strings.
When Newton, Halley and Hooke looked through the glass and sky,
the universe shed her secrets to be more then meets the eye.
When Thomas, John and Ben picked up the pen to write,
an eagle spread its wings and from an olive branch took flight.
When Samuel Langhorne Clemens met Harriet Beecher Stowe,
the times of change were laid in names from characters' footholds.
When Roosevelt, Stalin and Churchill assumed command,
fear and hatred would not be sated on another land.
When Lindbergh and Goddard pushed to see their common goal,
man was ready here and now to soar towards heaven's soul.
Tucked away in tiny alleys
Golden secrets in pyramidal design,
Tumbling layers of flats and homes
In blocks of cream and golden limestone,
Indistinguishable behind screens and doors
And built to withstand the heat and cold.
Fertile land farmed in terraced slopes
So precious it's preserved for crops,
Animals seem hidden away
In sunken pits, not on display.
A different world in the Mediterranean,
So much so it is a haven
Of safety from the wider world,
Let's pray it can be preserved.
Innocent victims cry in the dark
Forced to take refuge in that park
Such wrath began to fall
For I shall never forget the day I got that call
Silence and sorrow heavy in the air
It was like nothing I could ever compare
Days turned to weeks
Thousands take dwelling beseeching for any relief
Thousands left waiting in utter disbelief
I was supposed to be deployed
Yet an injury kept me here
My fellow workers attacked at the dome
Traumatized and in complete fear some had to return home
I feel so guilty
So guilty I should have been there
Innocent victims crying
Innocent victims now dying
An event so devastating
The stench of death filled the air
We could not fathom something so unfair
I counseled innocent victims
Still sticking strong to their convictions
I still recall every haunting voice
Confused, frustrated and displaced
Innocent victims left without a choice
Families torn apart on that day
The day the levees broke
Families losing all hope
My job was to help them cope
Innocent victims left to cry in a park
Fear increases when light turns to dark
Like declaring Martial Law
Lives washed away, all humanity started to fall
On the dawn of a new day
So joyous… even an atheist bowed her head to pray
The media coverage was what really brought aid
Oh no!
Politicians began to look bad so of course something had to be done
Late in action but at least more help had come
There is still work to be had
Many left permanently sad
Entering in hundreds of names to locate the missing or those declared dead
Debriefed each night just to clear my head
I still remember so clearly the desperation and panic
When Katrina came in August
Life turned frantic
Overwhelming emotions; I felt completely manic
I will never forget the victims I helped in such grief
I hope when the bodies were identified; I wish just some…
Some could give a sigh of relief
It is important we do not forget those still suffering
The child who didn't get the last kiss
The parents who will be dearly missed
We all have the ability to help
1,836 people dead!
Work together and ease the sorrow…
Another disaster could just happen tomorrow
Make time to reach out
So many innocent victims still in need
We all are capable of doing a good deed
He was renowned for farming
ploughing lands as large as atlantic
but his harvests he keeps beyond the sea
beyond the sea all he got
Down here, his roof leaks
his town roads untared
they make use of his wealth
to paint their town more white
he thinks his wealth is safe
but the value they use
promising him security and secrecy
to shut their mouth from his people
his pots occupied
by cockroach and rats
as had been aboandoned by his wife
his children grow everyday
developing big belly and head
He goes back to use ibeleju as lamp
but he claims to be rich
his children goes fishing to pay their fees
the school fees he has refused to pay
they built a school for their wards
and beg them to look inside papers
nobody pays a penny
those are the people beyond the sea
his wealth is intact
but had been used
times without number for their anuual budget
they beyond the seas
Worms leak his intestine
and his offsprings from six to two
he took their looks to the people
the people beyond the sea
they gave him a name "Malaria"
Malaria took them all
contented he came
carring no less for his kwashiokor wards
His bicycle like buried iron
yet he appears before his kinsmen
to speak in language that tingles
they smirk at him
though the gods let him live
his expliots and wealth
managed and utilized by the people
the people beyond the sea
he claims to be learned
while they have brain washed him
he trusted them
and left our heritage
the gods forbide
our black heritage
that our fathers died to protect
like our brotherly love
Our heritage
that forbade greed
he forgot our maxim
that of Unison
him that our fathers gave the "Ofor"
the Ofor that represents power
power to protect our interest
our black interest
the gods bear us witness
witness of our unquenched suffering
starving in front of plenty
plenty at the so called bank
banks beyond the sea banks
the name for their civilised theft
theft because they use the value
the value of your wealth
to reinforce themselve
the Ofor has fallen
from his hands
the gods has departed from him
but he will not believe
our chambers now lagoons
lagoons from the light shawers
our tables now canoes
and soup spoons paddle
mosquitoes now our pets
nursing our children
our working age amended
starting from 6 to sleep
our heads now bald
not from age
but from fetching water
water from the eden
upstairs in my room
i put my ear to the floor
only to hear my parents screaming
the argument is about me
my mom yells "look at what your son has become!"
Heartless, unintelligent, fake...
my father replies back
"hes your son, hes your own pile of dirt!"
whenever my family is out together
we act happy like these fights never happen
but every night they do and i cant tell anyone
i have to act like someone else in order not to get introuble
What have i become?...hurt..dishonest..will this feeling dissapear?
I will drag you down and i will make you hurt..
I lift my head from the floor
still hearing the angry voices of my parents
i found an old needle, and i dug it into my skin
the next morning i go downstairs
with a cut off shirt on, and baseball shorts
My father grabs my arm
"what is this boy?"
i yank my hand away from him and i sit down on a chair
"its nothing sir"
my father repeats "are you cutting yourself?, why?"
i grab my bookbag and i disapear out the door
My father runs outside pulling me to the ground
"are you cutting yourself boy?!" he screams
i say "no sir i just scrapped my arm on my dresser"
My father grabs my face
"you better not cut yourself again" he replies
He hits my face, as i lay on the ground.
I didnt wake up until i felt something wet drip on my face
it was raining and dark outside
i run into the house and into the bathroom
looking into the mirror i see the bruise that was left on my face
My father wasnt home and my mother went to bed
"everything goes away in the end right, if i let him have it all, my moms pile of dirt?"
I sit upon my liars chair full of broken memories i cannot repair
I become someone else, but the old me is still right there
if i could start again a million miles away i would keep myself
i will find my way
David and Goliath
Goliath challenged Israel,
and brought disgrace.
He asked if any man would meet him...
Face to face!
The men of Israel were scared. Not this brave!
If they lost… They'd be the Philistine's slave!
King Saul asked if anyone would challenge this man!
David accepted. Knowing this was God's land!
With a small stone, that he chose from a river bed
He faced Goliath.
God put the stone into his head.
Down came the giant! He took a big fall!
He wasn't so great and mighty,
after all!
Is there a giant in you life?
That's causing you problems?
Why not come to Jesus! And let him solve them!
Whatever your "giant' might be!
With God's help…
You can have the victory!
Whatever "giant" there is…
All must bow at Jesus' name!
Won't you stand up!
God's message, do proclaim!
The enemy's already defeated!
Victory is here!
As God is lifted up!
Your enemies will disappear!
By Jim Pemberton
Today, forty-five years ago, we heaved
this weight to our shoulders,
not seeing, knowing its complete meaning,
yet beckoning to ask why not?
You are now asked to carry this light's great intent:
to find, explore the fiber and nerve of essential need.
Define ways, delicate means.
Yes, leverage our dexterous technology,
whose logic claims bold, deft plans.
You are the leader, who my very own son,
on a cold winter night, on his campus,
not two years before --
yes, you had sent his eyes aglow, with goose bumps
dancing on his tender pale skin;
he'd gulp hope like he'd feast
on his mom's mashed potatoes ...
Now, we will bring you more, my captain -
you have engaged the imagination
of the whole world watching, one in whom
places informed hope, forged in the school
of knocked about and down and not quite up again.
But surely not out. Not us. Not now.
And, now together, our first step.
Some foresee what others cannot see,
That is to never be a slave but be free.
My ancestors paid the way for me.
That is why I have to be all that I can be.
They were chained, whipped, hung, and killed;
There were so many marches, sit-ins, dog bites, and blood spilled.
We must keep fighting to make and keep things right.
Past the torch and keep that light burning bright.
Right now I have a chosen culture.
I have a right not to be profiled or tortured.
I always pray for a world without discrimination.
We need opinion without separation.
It is never a priority to be a minority.
They say grass is greener on the other side.
I will always walk around with my head held high with pride.
To me freedom is always a jubilee.
With my love, trust, and faith in Jesus freedom is always a guarantee.
Lift every voice and sing.
Let freedom ring.
Civilizations appeared and disappeared
Empires have risen and fallen
Their cultures and legends discovered
Left behind for future generations, a token.
To teach us what enriches and what destroys
That those who have gained power by force
Have fallen by the hands of discontent
Leaving behind a culture of fear, that need no encores.
Those who have gained power by wisdom
Have left behind treasures that remained
Revealed in their writings, part of their history
Still inspiring today for our own victories to gain.
What destroys, disappears into relativity
What builds, remains in the heart of humanity
Fear and anger meet relativity
Love and truth meet eternity.
By CarolineCecile
Copyright © 03/28/10
I look in the mirror and see the years gone
I can look beyond the glass out the window
To the yards of my childhood
I can smell the flowers and feel the grass 'neath my feet.
I can hear the music blasting on the radio
Mama callin' me for supper.
I yearn to go back to that danged town
I fought to get away and never look back,
I never wanted to live there again.
I guess there's a piece of me
There in that little town.
The town is small and so are the events
You're everyone's business
You can get a break and can't get away
You don't even have a say
You go to and from and people protest
And those same people will still put you to the test
I yearn to go back to that danged town
I fought to get away and never look back,
I never wanted to live there again.
I guess there's a piece of me
There in that little town.
I made it to the big town K.C,
Got myself a husband and a son and a place to live
Settled in and made a life, got a career
I swear I'll never return to my best friend
Comfortable where I stand,
Happy where I am
I yearn to go back to that danged town
I fought to get away and never look back,
I never wanted to live there again.
I guess there's a piece of me
There in that little town.
Well times are hard,
And people are ruthless in this cut throat time
Jobs are scarce and bills run high
You never know what you'll hear at night
The people are small in this big town
Yeah people are small in this big town
I yearn to go back to that danged town
I fought to get away and never look back,
I never wanted to live there again.
I guess there's a piece of me
There in that little town.
I guess the town is small
Just good ol' boys and girls havin' fun
Small place, small town, small world
People may talk and people may watch
But the biggest thing in that small town
Are the people after all.
I yearn to go back to that danged town
I fought to get away and never look back,
I never wanted to live there again.
I guess there's a piece of me
There in that little town.
-Heather Birdwell 9/22/2009
Intimate Relationship
Saw the rusty old tramp-ship on the glittering
blues sea mowing cumbersome eastward.
My god, I knew her, more than many, had spent
two years in her hot interior and long nights
listening to her reassuring heart beats.
When sea was rough she rode the waves like
a swan, shuddered sometimes as to get sea off
her deck. Here she was again, under alien flag,
disappearing slowly as a dream remembered.
Wondered if she was on her way to Caribbean?
She liked it there, warm water good for her hull.
And like me she knew every little port, she could
birth blindfolded. Glad to see her again, yet sad
feel as I betrayed her for leaving; pitiable she, not
anchored in the inlet of peace by now.
Post-modern society i'm feelin' afflicted,
confined a predestined identity – i'm restricted,
what I preach and practice – contradicted,
due to the confines I mimic and pick, waiting for what the Mayan's predicted,
the revealing, the coming clean, tell us what the hieroglyphs depicted,
we're all looking for direction, collective unconscious became misted,
many hearts and minds twisted, our souls blistered,
instead of caring and sharing, we're all tight fisted,
people starve, people are killed, people are tortured and it's as if we all personally wished it,
maybe i'm just a mis-fit,
maybe my points fleeting and you missed it....
wake up
wake up
wake up.
A prisoner of darkness
Was all I could be.
Trapped and alone inside
Along a blackened sea
No one to hold me
To keep me alive
Completely abandoned
No reason to survive.
Then there was a light
Small but getting brighter
It drowned out the darkness
And made me a fighter. . .
Before i'd go with everything
And let them chain me down
Now I start to question them
I start to keep my ground.
Why should I let them stab me?
And see my blood run free
There's a reason that I need to live
To let myself be me.
No one holds me down
Without paying a price.
Why should they anger me
Then expect me to be nice?
I now... Have a beating heart
And a gleam in my eyes
Someone to kiss and hug me
And keep my soul alive.
Educate me people
Can you hear me from the steopel?
How can you learn from the streets?
I know hip-hop can teach you different beats
Music can teach you a lot I'm sure
Reggae, hip-hop, r&b, and etc. are so pure
How can you learn from a friend?
Someone who always sin
Do drugs and steal cars
And is put behind bars
How can a camp teach you better?
Learn how to love and write your enemy a nice letter
Do push-ups and climb a wall
Climb to high and you might just fall
Educate me people
I said do you here me from the steopel?
There's more to be learned than taught
Do you know about Dr. King and Malcolm X and how they both fought
Come on people put the little kids in school
Doing the right thing might be cool
Learning can actually rule
I know don't no body want to be a fool
Looking at the wall can't teach you nothing
At least turn on t.v or do something
Television probably can do some good
Learn something new, I think you should
Give me your knowledge
So I can learn and go to college
'Cause if no one wants to listen
Then I'll pay attention
Liberty Statue
There she stands with torch in her hand.
Beaconing freedom throughout the land.
Welcoming those who come to this land..... of the free.
She doesn't care what color you are.
Whether you come from near or from far.
Many an eye has shed a tear.
To see her so Proudly welcoming you here.
This lady we call Liberty was a gift from France to you and me.
She stands on an island called Liberty, all on her own.
Letting one and all visit her home.
Greeting people of all nations who come to this land.
Liberty is the name she is called.
And Heaven help us if ever does she fall.
protests for freedom
twitter, facebook, cell phones brought
new day for Egypt
People people people
People comes from everywhere
Into this land of freedom
Statue of Liberty welcomes them all.
Black,white,yellow and brown
We see people of different colors
In this land of freedom
Equal opportunity to everyone.
People come by flights
Peolpe come by ships
People come by road and train
With and without the permissions
Every one find the shelters
Every one find a work to do
Every one dream a bright future
In this land of blessings
We have lot to do for the world
It is our responsibility
We have more, and we need to help
Then God will bless us more and more.
I was 5 years old when I first stepped onto this land of the free
America, the place that I heard was the best place to be
To live a better life to become better beings
To chase the American Dream to provide for our family, the finer things
The world tells us wealth and power is the number one
But is that what really provides us the happiness at the end of our run?
What really is the American Dream?
Tainted by our materialistic desires, we believe that worldly success transfers into content
But will we really forever be at peace with just these tangibles present?
To achieve this American Dream means long hours at work away from our families and friends
To hear everyday, "Daddy, will you be able to make my recital?"
Or, "Honey, come home early today. Please."
To buy the family hundred dollar Nikes and thousand dollar Louis Vuittons
But to have lost the word, "family" in its entirety
No, this isn't my American Dream
The media tells us, Just Do It, and we're all individuals but we're all part of a movement
Pressured by the media to buy what we can't and to be who we aren't
In a world of rich be rich and poor be poor,
We can never be content with just the objects of this world.
True moments of happiness occur between family and friends
To gain all of the world's objects is in no comparison to the bond that a family holds
To continue this spiritual value against the tangibles that will one day no longer be
To earn self-confidence in the goodness of the future generation
For this is my American Dream.
This 4th Of July
To my fellow Americans,
during this 4th of July.
I have a thought.. . Here's why…
When we salute our flag
ever so grand.
Our country's foundation
is sinking in "quicksand."
This is because. From God...
We're way "off course."
Driven by lust, greed
and an "immorality force ."
Our ungodly government
continues to rule.
Anything of God has been
removed from the school.
We hear of "separation of
church and state."
Anything of God...
Many people seem to hate!
America! Listen to what
this message is about!
Everything of God is
slowly being taken out!
We must return to Jesus!...
He gives true freedom indeed!.
The truth word of God's .
Our country must read!
Living for God is worth the cost!
Without HIM...
America is forever lost!
By Jim Pemberton
Vivaldi man of "Four Seasons"
Played his violin for a reason
While singing the strings
Excellent music he brings
Great melody it rings
"La Primavera" sole concerto
Uplifting the spirits without alto
Amsterdam, Prague, Venice and Vienna
Spectacular operas making souls remember
Strings and harmony joining in splendor
Maestro de Violino
Creating rhythm with his bow like no one knows
Musical scales moving your head
Great melody even for newlyweds
Tempo, decrescendo, awaken even a sleepyhead
Vivaldi man of "Four Seasons"
Played his violin for a reason
Bow singing the strings
Excellent music he brings
Great harmony it rings
© Joseph, 4/14/08
© All Rights Reserved
Placed in the 352 poems selected
out of the 1129 submitted in the
Poetry Soup September 2008 Contest
Dedicated: To the lovers of great violin music
Author's Comments: My youngest son is a violinist and it's such a pleasure
listening to his music and hearing about the musicians he talks about with
dogs come cats go
just like moon waxing
Don't let it phase you
Tribute To Moon Waxing LOL
Also Don't Forget To
Turn Those Clocks Back
The brave is free.
Are we indeed?
Our right to power they try to impede.
An educated man is an unfit slave
His natural rights, will ye not deprave
Remove from my heart all anguish and rage
And the bonds of having been kept in a cage
Take not from us our power and dignity
A man is not a not a man without his liberty
Justice and equality
Social solidarity
Let's put an end to all the pain and misery
What a calamity
Yet more an insanity
The oppressed and oppressor, both stripped of humanity.
So let's stand in unity and call for an action.
Not just an obligation,
But individual satisfaction
So therefore we need, not all consult.
As freedom is a choice, and liberty the result
we grew up at Home
with a warrior thrust tuning
our souls to sounds of crickets
to rhythms of the soil
to smells of the rivers
knowing large dreams of moonlight joy
we grew up there in an ever rebounding
spirit learning songs of seasons
that dressed our umbilical cords
for the harvest of our dreams—
they were songs fathers sang in the cycle
many rainless seasons ago
many harvest seasons ago we danced away
from loving arms of Home onto the snow sea
opening widely our limbs to invisible lines
that etched new profiteering truths
into our being into our minds into our hearts
when we heard father died this morning
away from Home we were featherless eagles
looking for remnants of our nest among anthills
at a traffic light fragmented by hideous sores
we lost the burial songs made golden by the Sun
and made the Dead sleep like babes at Home
it was here we remembered
the splash of Colors, the smell of Exile
the poverty of dispossession which soaked our souls
froze memories of green Hills of Home
and made us grow resentful to dreams of moonlight joy
we looked into the skies and remembered
when Locusts burst dams and the deep cuts
of Holy Water drowned the glutton voices of our fathers
our blood drank the pus from our wounds
buried deep by the locusts beneath the skin
we lost our dreams of a harvest
to the splash of colors
we drowned the songs of our fathers
in the roar of the holy water
today there are many seas to cross
with deadly triangular calm
they'll congeal stubborn death breaths
while father's spirit scream at our tenacious fate
it is only a season ago since we left, yet
we no longer possess the sounds of the crickets
we no longer dance to the rhythms of the soil
what we have is the pus from the wounds
buried deep by the locusts beneath our skin
I have hope for the hatred and anger to settle.
I have hope the days to come I can weather,
I have hope there will be no more stones
thrown, Hope that no more children groan,
hope for there to be peace, hope that people
stop fighting for their peice,
hope no suffering man women or child loses
hope, Hope they soon stand together to
fight the greed, Hope for more of them to
read, read into this war or that unnessecary death.
I have hope tomorrow my grandchild or
children are still able to take a breath,
To sacrifice my time of fate,
inventors urging's commonplace,
the nudge ~ inviolate, but grace,
invention seems to win the race!
That stark inviting quells replace
Lord, nothing else give me to case
this being my worthwhile, my space
and ne'er refusings' stymied trace!
The idea thriving, wholeness ace
at last surviving, millions pace!
I am Invention ~ no escape
Necessities remaining . . . chase!
Jamaicans near and far, gather round and listen closely to the sounds of the Jamaican beat...
JAMAICA, pon di rise!
JAMAICA, on the RISE!
Yes, yes, man we on the go,
we raise the price of tin mackerel so high, the price has practically hit di roof.
Poor people a struggle but we still on the go
Self- Elevation, down with the slavery,
RED tape and any sign of white supremacy
but what about the black indoctrination?
What about the plights of mothers and fathers whose dreams are lost in a sea of
Frustration, Depression and Deprivation.
What is causing us as a people to be so callous, unforgiving, impulsive, irrational and down-right unbearable?
Is it our innate need to shine and out do each other?
The system, we are told it's the system, our predisposed nature,
the way we were raised, the way we were taught by our educational system.
The way we were instructed by our British masters.
So Jamaicans, we on the go
the price of basic items may be high but we still have wi pride
We a break records
We a set trends
WE a educate our people dem
Yes, yes, JAMAICA, on the RISE
WE a come from far
centuries of slavery
Winter have come and winters have gone some were very cold and some were a
little warmer.
But this winter is different so far it hasn't been winter cold it has been so warm that
the flowers have been blooming!
I know this isn't very spectacular to most because a lot of places have them
blooming year round.
Around here the climate is usually to cold and the flowers are tucked away in there
But this year there up late and showing there heads.
On 09-11-2001 so many of our flowers died and were taken from us.
And we thought what a cold senseless act it was that caused them to die.
I thought they would never come out again,
but Christmas is here and people are traveling and hurrying and shopping almost
like they used to.
I took my daughter to school and the air was a little nippy.
When we got out of the truck we saw two daisies standing tall and blooming!
I said to my daughter look how nice God sent us daisies in December.
Life on Purpose Live it before you lose it! ©2009
On June 25, 1962 prayer was taken out of school
It was like losing a ring's precious jewel
If you look into America's history
You will find that it is no mystery
From that date on we haven't been as strong
I believe we have done something terribly wrong
What they teach in history books simply overlooks
Important information that has raised up a blind generation
Youth, family, education, and national life is far from the same
We have lost morals and values that our forefathers firmly proclaimed
A Blessed Nation under God we have always been
But in the last 50 years it has become destroyed by an abundance of sin
Divorce rate is at an all-time high
While so many children grow up fatherless and wonder why
Gang violence increases each day
Teenage pregnancy has become a common way
Young people search for love in all the wrong places
Leaders in government wear faulty faces
Role models have become extinct
Technology while good has caused many jobs to sink
A nation rife with perjury
Broken marriage covenants In need of surgery
Unforgiveness extortion bribery slander and profanity
We need God to restore us too sanity
Hypocrisy, and lawsuits initiated solely for revenge and personal gain
Doing things are own way has caused us much pain
The rich are getting richer and the poor sit back and cry
People have lost their integrity yet shake their fists at the sky
If you want to learn open a bible and begin to read
If we listened to its wisdom we wouldn't have so much need
We have become too liberal as a whole
Besides having so much debt, we are all losing our souls
If anyone talks about God in school they risk losing their profession
Yet more and more young people suffer from anxiety and depression
Many are on medication making doctors filthy rich
So many people are dying in their own emotional ditch
Statistically we are on a downward spiral
Many people turn their heads or just live in denial
History is important to learn
For it shows us how quickly society can turn
We all have to answer to God someday
And if I were you I would start to learn his way
For if we are going to continue to be America the best
We have to take a moment to address
All the ways we have allowed this country to slip
Take personal responsibility and restore our spiritual grips
Weneed to take back the people's power
We are living in a crucial hour
If we don't open our eyes ears and mouths we will fall instead of just bend
who knows this time if this damage we can mend.
by: Sabina nicole
They lived and toiled when
The living was not easy
Weather and soil yielded no
Grace nor bountiful
Harvest to nurture body
Providence however reign
A long hard day ends
For the family of four
Potatoes and tea
Baked and boiled for all to share
Grateful expressions of care
"The Potatoe Eaters" by van Gogh
A child was born gifted and blessed
Not understood by parents, siblings, and all the rest
Personality traits introverted, shy
Leaning toward melancoly don't ask why
Drawn to music, art, crafts and poetry
Who loves to hear and tell a good story
Feeling insecure, unloved, and misunderstood
Fearing the worst, bottled desires to fit in if she could
Wanting a chance to just use her gifts
And help others not feel misfit
Lives her life in her hometown
Where this woman will never wear a crown
Hear the lonesome whistle blow, it echoes across the vast
Continental divide, connecting the Pacific and Atlantic
Coastal shores, by the steel rails iron horse.
It raged in blazing thunder, leaving a storm cloud of white
Smoke in it's wake.
Lightning's hell speed, drives this devil's steed, with flames
Fire, feeding it's belly, by coal and sinews muscled sweat.
The wrought iron beast emerges, from the black pitch of night,
It's sharpen wheels of harden metal, cut, slicing through the
Raw flesh of mother earth, leaving her bleeding crimson red.
Bound and shackled, is this monstrous man-made beast,
Held captive, by the leg irons of progress.
Men covered in soot and ash, tend to the heart and hearth,
Of this demon bringing forth greed's prosperity.
Greased and oiled, pistons push gears, driving this seemingly
Living creation, of mechanical engineering, lit are it's eyes of
Fire, burning through the blackness of night.
The engineer holding the throttle to the floor,
Praying to God, he'll see the sun's dawning
Once more.
Tribal chieftains stand tall on a grassy knoll,
Observing the iron horse below, as the eagle
Soars above, shedding it's feathers in mid airs flight.
As the weeping woman cries, for her people,
For she alone, realizes what is it come.
The mighty buffalo, roam freedoms open
Tundra, as a herd of millions, soon to be
Nothing but dust shadows, phantom ghosts
Legendary beasts hunted by the native braves.
Around the sacred camp fires of old these
Ancient story's of the courageous hunters, shall
Be retold to generation to come.
The mighty Buffalo are brought to the brink of
Extinction by the long rifles of the white mans gun.
Yet these white devils still come, like a tidal wave,
Washing the prairies beauty away.
Hear the lonesome whistle blow, it
Echoes across the vast continental divides,
Connecting the Atlantic and Pacific coastal
Shores, by the steel rails iron horse.
Daniel In the Lion's Den
Daniel was one of three administrators
Who ruled over 120 satraps
Appointed by King Darius
Who agreed to important edicts
One of these edicts
Was a public decree
That no worship was possible
Unless to Darius on bended knee
So when Daniel was found
To pray three times per day
To his God in heaven
As a crime was portrayed
So reluctantly King Darius
Ordered Daniel to the lions' den
But God sent an angel
To close the lions' mouths again and again.
At the first light of dawn
The King called to Daniel in anguish
For he hadn't slept all night
He feared that Daniel would perish
But when Daniel told him
"Not one lion has harmed me"
The King was overjoyed that Daniel's God
Preserved Daniel to be set free.
Those who had falsely accused Daniel
Were thrown to the lions instead
The king and his subjects were ordered to worship
Daniel's God as their head
What a mighty witness
To a pagan king
Daniel trusted his God
Through this trial he'd bring.
Copyright © Maureen LeFanue 2007-2012
What is left to be said
whats done is far behind
I'll always be filled with wonder
until all reasoning subsides
Sometimes I feel it's pointless
for me to even try
a futile attempt to break through
your weakness disguised as pride
As I write this all for me
I won't apologize
I've been sorry for long enough
maybe its a failure to realize
the strides I made were paid in full
yet I still give you credit
your not lost, just misinformed
it's not your fault so don't regret it
I only know what love is
because it opposes my hate
by the time it reaches inside my soul
it will intentionally be too late
I'll leave room for no one to care
it always just seems they do
if one would could define you
it might be too much confused
So now you fold into the generic mold
the world is full of that
only you can really change it
at the rate it's going, I doubt that
The Constitution Or The Bible?
From our news, courts and government institutions,
We often hear about the U.S.. Constitution.
As many cry what is and isn't "constitutional;."
It's a wonder how this country is till functional!
\As courts seek to remove the Bible and it's commandments.
They look to the constitution for some kind of "enlightenment."
The freedom of religion, which the early fathers taught.
Is now "freedom from religion" is what's in many thoughts.
It's almost like the courts "wave the magic wand."
And then tell us the difference between "right and wrong."
Many Godly principles have often been disregarded.
God's word in many homes, has often been discarded.
Without God in many lives. This has left an empty void.
As perversions of his word
are taught and "enjoyed."
It's time to wake up America! And begin to see!
It's only God and his word that gives true liberty!
We're quickly becoming a nation of bondage and sin.
As so many struggle with afflictions within!
We all need to let God's word daily renew our mind!
Even though we're busy… We need to take the time!
God was here before the constitution was written!
It's time to come to him! Will our country listen???
Because of Jesus… There is no "man and God separation!"
The truth of his word is what's needed in our nation!
By Jim Pemberton
I am living the dream.
I stand here today,
Cannot believe what I am about to say,
But I am living the dream.
At times, it's tough
And it is not always easy.
I might be condemned
For choosing this path in life;
Some may think it's too bag of a risk.
When we give it our all,
Our passion and our might,
We can overcome and forget the fear
To become who we are meant to be.
I stand here today,
Another tear ready to wipe away:
You can do all you aspire to do!
Set your mind and never give up!
If I can do it,
You can too!
I can't believe I'm about to say this,
But I am living my dreams.
I am living the dream.
Let me take you back
To 1942
In Sagan ( Zagan ) Poland
In World War II
Their was built a camp
For prisoners of war
Primarily Air Force
Heroes galore
The site was selected
To escape them tunnelling
Deterring their efforts
In freedom funnelling
Forward we move
To March 1944
A tunnel called " Harry "
These servicemen bore
On a moonless night
March 24th
The crawled through the tunnel
To escape to go forth
To assist their escape
Air raid sirens wailed
The camps lights went dim
To the steps they scaled
Ten in the first hour
Escaped to the trees
Seventy six in total
From Stalag Luft free
The seventy seventh
Was seen emerging from the ground
The guards in alert
As the tunnel was found
The escaped seventy six
To the railway station they went
But confusion arose
For the paths they were meant
Not knowing where to go
They all missed their train
Some stayed for the next
While others walked the terrain
What befell the escaped
My words will speak
The search by the Germans
In prisoner seek
Two Norwegians
Made it to Sweden
A Dutch man through France
To Spain was his freedom
When news of this broke
Hitler was incensed
Orders were issued
For Artur Nebe to dispense
Fifty were herded
Onto trucks for their return
But they stopped at a clearing
For their fate to be learned
As they disembarked the trucks
To stretch their legs
Spandau's and Schmeisser's
Sprayed them with lead
The news of these deaths
Left our Parliament in shock
For these tragic moments
The Nuremberg trials would unlock
After the war
Gestapo officers were tried
They were responsible
For the fifty who died
This write is my tribute
For they were near freedoms gate
To all who were behind
The Great Escape
A gorgeous road bike
made by Corbitugo
seemed to boost everyone's ego...
and fight we did over this beauty,
because there werent' of that type
and it had an unbelievable speed,
but taking care of it became almost a creed:
so shiny and well-maintained, it kept us in shape.
A gorgeous road bike
made it through muddy roads and rough terrains...
like rocky paths leading to granite mountains,
if it had run in a marathon, it would have definitely won;
I even rode it while holding the string of a kite:
that was my most prized possession until it broke down.
He was seized with an obsession,
it wasn't like balsam to his hurt feelings,
and his body has been waisted by the long illness.
The streets were bedecked with flags,
and the soldier declared himself innocent.
It was only then that they realized the gravity of the situation.
The people.
A constitutional government,it's bad policy to beat him.
There was a munition shortage and wet weather gets me down.
That gloomy old house is dying as the dove of peace patronize,
the soldier.
The piney slopes were covered with snow and red spots,
as the light fell on her face,before wolves torn it to pieces.
The hope.
The soldier showed signs of distress,i was astonished at the news.
By midday he had sold out and left for his village.
Bury the hatchet,soldier !! The place is Godforsaken.
I had a sudden pain in the stomach.
Change of speed.
One of the four sons of a wool-weaver,
Christopher Columbus became a great navigator,
who went to sea to learn the sailor's skills
and later to discover a land filled with riches;
rejected by The King of Portugal, he appealed
to the Republic of Genoa and Venice...to return empty-handed!
Finally, King Ferdinand II and Queen Isabella of Spain
agreed to make him the " Admiral of the Seas ",
and Columbus departed from Palos, Portugal with three caravels:
the Nina, the Pinta and the Santa Maria for a slow and long voyage...
to find spices, and gold in mines and rivers and in other places;
and when one of his sailors sighted land,as if in a mirage,
Columbus thought he had reached the East Indies,
not realizing he had discovered the New World's shores!
There will be a time when anger takes over.
And all other emotions fade.
Where madness turns to power,
To which diesies are made.
Where the people who think that they own the world,
Who have hatread swelling around them in curls,
Allow the poor to cry out in hunger,
And the rich to eat till they hurl.
Then the monsters that don't like others,
And think that they all should die,
Lock them up in lice ridden cells,
While they laugh, and say it gives them a good high.
How life above, up in the sky,
Will even fall to its torcher.
They'll start wars, create plagues,
Until one cannot even trust they're mother.
But for those who were lost somewhere in the middle,
Were given a gental gift.
The man who came upon the day,
And hoped to kill anger will a holy riddle.
The children had come upon the streets,
And sat on the man's soft knee.
They learned of love and caring,
Which filled the streets with glee.
Then one day, while the new year raged on,
The people came with harsh accusations.
He had told of love
He had defied the nations.
The man had tried to end anger,
But failed.
Anger had won, it finished its deed.
They made fun of him as his life was taken through hatread that was nailed.
Into the earth.
With a horrid, angry force of sheer strife.
No more emotions on the rise.
Only broken hearts,
And starless skies,
And people throw angry darts.
There will come a time when anger will take over.
And all other emotions fade.
Where Hitlers, and Satans run the world.
And the earth's death bed is made.
Hallowed The Halls of Antiquity
Frail The Parchment of History
When a Host of Quills Touched Destiny
And Rose a Peoples of Democracy
Hail sayeth to MAN not King?
Immortal Freedom When it Rings!
Freshly minted or neatly Forged!
No Queen or Earl or English Lord!
Across an Empire -England Stamped
With Sword and Powder and Steel Lance
And Spies and Traitors and the Gifted Lie
Soon Fear Peoples that may Do or Die
On an Island Nation Deep Dark Depths
Proclaiming freedom or cold stone death
Was Green their color yet red they Wept
As Tides of oceans the English Swept
Upon her shores and into her Land
Crushing Centuries English Black Hand
Rape and Plunder encouraged the day
Starvation Misery established the way
Intrigue with Promise and Commitment too
When they Lifted the North for only a few!
Son against Father and Father against Friend
The Wiley Weapon YOUR English Best Friend
To an Island Nation with an Emerald Sea
Of Warriors Poets Braving To Be Free
No Pestilence or Famine generations deep
Or Hangman, Lordship or Company they keep
No Black Hand Hovering -or Forcefully arrived
Dare Diminish the Centuries of Irish Celtic Pride
Never Taken Never Borrowed Never Given as a Gift
From hilly top to turf down flat to misty sea adrift
Thus was the day that born
When Robert Emmet Arrived
Thus was the day that born
When an Irishman had Died
For Madiba
as you continue the struggle some more, today for life...
'it is an ideal for which I am prepared to die' you said, all those years ago
as you stood in the dock awaiting the sentence of death
they locked you up instead
for 27 hard and long and arduous years
you stood firm
you never wavered
you gave hope to us all
and then when they could no longer keep up their unjust tyranny
you emerged into the light of freedom
your hand raised in a defiant fist in the february Cape Town air
- Amandla!
you then weaved and bobbed and fought some more, the boxer in you always present
you fought for peace in our land
for us all you fought
and then came that glorious day
when you were our president
and we laughed and we cried
and you fought for us even more
today you fight a different fight
for life, and we are helpless
we, who you fought for all along
have only hope and prayer and song and wishes of life for you
today, you fight some more
may you fight for life some more, Tata Madiba!
and may you prevail
for you are our father
and father, your children call out to you once more
with wishes
your children wish for you, to remain here with us some more
and though helpless your children may be
in this battle that you wage for life today
and though frail and old your body is
your indomitable spirit smiles that inimitable Madiba smile
your spirit resides in each of us
your loving children
Matzos slip into their mouths
Voices project merrily...tonight is
The night of Unleavened Bread
Lamb and other delicious
Meats and veggies... satisfies our taste buds
What a splendid night it is!
Wine's brewin' in our wine cups
The dinner table - creates pleasant talk
During this meaningful night
There's moments of quietude
When it comes to de-leavening our lives
But, there's moments of gladness
On this night of peacefulness
Cheesecake - a delightful treat to savor
During this night of pure bliss
what would you believe to be true?
a sun in the sky and the color of blue?
check to see what time it is…
and is this time a true truth too?
for you?
if we're to count what really matters
would it be the drops or the oceans of waters?
Maya have a cycle and they call it Long
Consisting of 'days' that cycle to One.
Scholars translated the related data…
Stating in dates from a dated stela
That an 'end' was to come
For the world as we know it.
I asked for the rest to show it.
Modern cycles of time are related
To the point, I say, of being the same.
In the beginning, it was just a game
But a truth came out the more I played.
And if this truth is really true
Then what might it mean for me and you?
If the Mayan cycle to One it just means
That the rest are too.
We'll start with a Great date of understanding
The Winter solstice of the 12th upon ending
Will complete the days count of three colors
Red Green and Blue…....... 18.7.2 000
We have the same color in the minutes it's true…
1300 days is a count of Red Green and Blue.
1300 days as minutes are a 18.7.2 000 Too.
And how do I know this you say?
I only know it in the English kind of way
But 18 = R, 7 = G, and 2 = B see
Which makes black when the zeros are three
Too, this includes them all.
The trick was a spin in the eyes
They said 'add' to my surprise… and so I did
Add sum, because it's said and is so
That once in every seventy two you know
There is the movement of One. Degree.
It was a mystery to me and something unseen
Like the physical physics of godly thing.
"Golden showers" Albert kept saying
Don't be a coward his dare kept teasing
Could it be true his mind kept pushing
He wants to finish what he thinks is worth knowing…
So what can you touch in 24 miles
If you're faster then light but stop for smiles?
A kiss from the color of a mind called hOurs
7800 days are the exact same colors, and
18.7.2 000 are used the same ways
1872000 are the hours in 7800 days
Two cycles combine to show whats true
And it is inDEEd; what I can show to you
Because I'm not an '...ist'... or a phd
But I sure can count, in geek.can.ease…
7800 + 1300 = 9100 Soo, I counted…
1+2+3+4+5+6+7+8+9+10+11+12+13 = 91 oo… a lot.
...2+3+4+5+6+7+8+9+10+11+12+13 = 90 o….. and became a square for it ;)
9100 / 20 = 455
9100 / 13 = 700
20×13 = 260 Tzolkin sacred number…
Because we walk on them (26 bones each foot)… all five of us.
... see… there IS one more… and then it's new.n
How do we go back through Time, Space, Matter and Reasoning to the Origin of
Origin and commune with the Original Originator?
Is it through our death?
Is it through re-birth?
Is it through the Earth?
Or is it when we berth?
As we drift in-to a quiescent dock
Bourne by waves of Mercury, we rock
Silent and peaceful... no sound... no talk...
Perhaps, this time at the dock
We may find a bit of luck
At communing on the floor
With the Original Originator
How do we go back through Reasoning, Space, Matter and Time to the Origin of
Origin and commune with the Original Originator?
Is it through the Sun?
Is it when we mourn?
Is it when its dawn?
Or at the peak of form?
As we flex muscles of wood
All sinewy, all musculi, all crude
Hunched like Mr Olympia's brood
Perhaps this time at the Water
We will commune with Awe, with Laughter
As we (hopefully) end at the door
Tha'll be opened by the Original Originator
How do we go back through Matter, Reasoning, Space and Time to the Origin of
Origin and commune with the Original Originator?
Perhaps, this question I think can be answered on through infinity ad infinitum.....
Daidalos played with poison
and the gormandizing mind of a king
corrupting DNA with his brilliance.
Poseidon's patronage,
issues from unknown depths of depravity.
Pasiphae bore this monstrosity
and carried the shame
as women do.
AyeeeI The minds of men bent inwards
without love, cannot find creation...
so seek destruction as compromise.
Convoluted cage of sacrifice,
diabolical maze of mutilation,
how many maidens and young men wander these halls of Hades
lost beyond Persephone's care
or Hecate's lamplit pathway home?
Asterion they called him,
to fool the masses,
as rulers and scientists are wont to do.
He was an abomination,
left over from Atlantean arrogance,
whipped into a frenzy with a poisonous brew of fungi and root
administered by his keepers,
this Taurean,
this bull man,
this Minotaur,
devouring the hope of all within sailing distance.
His sister,
sweet Ariadne,
raised on the pain and terror,
weaned on the screams of the victims,
and the unfathomable misery of her brother,
devised a plan to end his life of hell.
The Gods of creation sent Theseus,
the golden, the brave one, from the Eastern shores
and she charmed him into trusting her.
With his life in her hands,
she held a ball of the finest spun wool,
from Demeter's flocks,
and showed him the way through hell.
Past the bones and rotting flesh
of the sons and daughters of despair,
past the gnashing and scarring of imprisoned demons,
and through the hopelessness of the devious design of entrapment,
he journeyed, trusting,
she held his way safely in her hands.
He found her brother,
captive in his lair,
already foaming and insane
having drunk the brew Daidalos concocted for him
to twist his feeble mind.
Imprisoning his senses in addiction
blood-lust and depravity was sharpened as the finest sword.
The frenzy the great men craved and created for their pleasure
revealed here as the monster it was.
So with great pity,
compassion giving him a clear head
and steady hand,
Theseus slew Ariadne's brother
and so released the lands from the slavery of terror.
That fine wool,
soft in the hand as spiders silk,
and as strong as faith,
led him out to a hero's welcome
and a legacy hung in the night sky
for all to remember.
Basking in God status, he sailed home to celebrate his glory.
Ariadne, mourning the life of her brother,
the corruption of her father,
the vacant eyes of her Mother,
and the abandonment of her lover
flung herself into the sea
as a final sacrifice
to Poseidon's hunger.
All that I counted gain was but loss
(In the spots whereto Latency teems).
On cut, polished stones in fields of dreams,
Each pirate's loot was marked with a cross,
Where dreamers and their dreams were serried;
The tollbooth had lulled them all to sleep
Within the interment parcels, deep,
Hidden in earthen vessels buried
In plain view on these treasure islands;
Panegyrics soon voiced his pleasures
Of unknown descendants' veiled measures
Of wisdoms covered on these highlands,
Boxed with talents, volumes, inventions,
Signed with this epitaph on each tomb-
"Potential sealed up after the womb
Will pave this road with good intentions.
Thus, rob your own grave, enlarged since birth,
Of pains, knowledge, and the fear to fail;
True Natures make known your visions well;
Empty your treasure-troves upon earth."
Produced 50 yrs ago
My master Pravin Pant Sr.
Felt it was time for my Just Born coop to grow
So he introduced me to some other chicks
Bunnies bats cats pumpkins and
Even thought of placing some lucky stars
In for the heck of it what a day of cellabration
Now he has flipped his lid once again and took a few friends back
Had turned them into lip balms but I don't mind
For they will stay forever fresh on my lips as I speak of them
I been dropped off buildings had been steam rolled over
And each time I bounced back with zest
So please come rescue us from this crazy farmer
Place me in a warm basket or cake or even a dressed table
For I m just a little peep looking for somebody to love
To The Peep
In All Of Us LOL
Sometimes, I sit on my sofa
Pondering on why war, poverty, hatred
and anguish has become a comforting bliss.
They say life is an unending quest; is it?
They say true love lasts forever;
Is there really anything called love?
Is life's race really for the swiftest, the wisest or the dumbest?
I rake up my head to frenzy
yet no answers are formed.
Looking at the mirror, all I see is the same confused old look.
My lips charred, my hair falling
My face an ugly mask of wrinkles
Is this the real me? If it is, if it isn't, then what is real about me?
In the distance
I hear a church choir singing that "God is Love".
If God is love, then why is there so much blood, hatred and filth in the world?
Too many questions without answers.
I draw open my chest of history books
And I begin to wonder why Lumumba died and
Why Mobutu Sese Seko became president.
Flipping through my history books I see how the Europeans
came to Africa.
They claimed to be on a so-called civilizing mission
But it was only a cloak for their real intent- Exploitation.
With their collaborators; Africans themselves,
They subjugated and dominated Africa so easily.
Flipping further through mores pages, I see the same trend
Life is a story of betrayal and trust.
Every major event in life is bordered on trust and betrayal;
Everything might seem to be real on the outside, but on the inside it is vain.
I draw open the window panes trying to find answers.
Gazing at the stars and the moon I remain clueless,
But in the dark blue skies I see something;
A world divided between two lines- Good and Evil.
Whatever line one chooses is a matter of choice,
But choice most times eludes the most enterprising
and most determined individual.
Many end up becoming monsters,
Many end up becoming what they are not
Not because they are blind, not because they fail
to make the right choices,
but because they have bullets in their soup pot.
Many try to find peace and true freedom.
They seek; they ponder, but are left without answers.
In their desperation, they become lost in the dark
clammy cesspits of time,
Their lives become miserable.
Whatever is real is real because it is real
Whatever is fake is fake because we've not allowed ourselves to feel it.
If God is real, God is real because we feel his presence in our hearts;
If God is love, then love is real for it lies in our hearts.
Life has so many unanswered questions;
Questions without answers
Nothing can fill the vacuum created by unanswered questions,
Except one thing;
One thing most people have locked out from their hearts,
and that is love- True love.
In life we make so many choices,
yet let us not allow the choices we make destroy what we are,
rather let love make the right choices for us.
Love is why we are here,
Love why we are what we are
And love will take us to the place of our dreams,
So let love fill our hearts and overwhelm us with its warm
cool gentle feel as we ascend the windy staircase of life.
Sir Isaac Newton
What was he toot'in
Sat high in a tree
Dropped apple discovered gravity
Tribute To Sir Isaac Newton
Also Entry For John Heck's
Clara Who Contest
The rise of Atlantis
For this I don't want you to miss
Coming of the new world
With Justice dressed as it's girl
An apple from God's slate
Filling the hunger for ones plate
Safe harbor to now call home
Empowered by minds that love to roam
Our modern motor
Internal combustion engine
The automobile
he released the long-form
of his birth certificate
toured the tornado-stricken south
with mayors and governors
flew to NASA to watch the
final liftoff of a U. S. space shuttle
gave U.S. Navy Seals permission
to conduct a secret national security mission
spoke at a dinner for the
white house correpondents
watched U.S. special forces
execute their assignment
informed U.S. citizens that
the mission was accomplished
sparked patriotic celebrations outside of
the white house and at a national baseball game
caused U.S. citizens to chant with pride
at times square and ground zero
a leading U.S. citizen,
with a legal birth certificate--the president of the U.S.A.--
touched so many lives
within a week
Life like a movie,
Look at me,
Can't you see?
Crazed mind,
Left behind,
Every memory,
You're ahead of me,
Feeling ill,
A passing thrill,
Grips me up,
I'll erupt,
This feeling in my head,
My eyes see red,
Can't you comprehend?
My quickly nearing end,
Which direction?
No affection,
Head takes control,
Fell in the hole,
Deep is the dark,
Feeling stark,
I'll never make the mark,
I've always wanted to,
Nothing new,
Thoughts creep,
Every one deep,
Rise up and flee,
You won't turn into me,
To my words,
I know you heard,
Where I am,
Life is bleak,
For a freak,
There's nothing left,
I'll try my best,
Not to burst,
Turn for the worst,
Better myself,
Personal health,
Will to win,
Time to begin,
Moving forward,
Reach toward,
The right light,
So ---- bright,
I just might,
Find myself to be,
Beyond free,
Life with wings,
What goodness brings,
Do you see me now?
One big wow,
Feel the power of positive,
Let go of derogative,
Thoughts, Feelings, Wishes,
Beating hearts get kisses,
Don't ever leave,
Always believe,
Every day,
A step ahead of death.
~A tribute to "The Slave's Dream" by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow~
One night the slave had a nice dream.
And in the dream he was just free.
He heard sounds of freedom's bold scream.
One night the slave had a nice dream.
And saw the light of liberty's gleam.
No more felt flesh by whips just bleed.
One night the slave had a nice dream.
And in the dream he was just free.
I live in a castle.
By the sea.
Open to all for tea.
The drawbridge down.
The gate ajar.
The clatter of hoof beats.
Heard afar.
Come in and stay.
Hospitality our way.
The Princess in her tower, marooned.
Incarcerated for her cooking.
And at the Knights looking.
Many pass this way.
To the jousting and the play.
Hoping to catch the eye.
Of the Princess in the sky.
Horses resting a feast prepared.
The smell of roast beef being aired.
Best robes wearing.
My crown adorning.
The queen applauding.
Looking adoring.
The Minstrels playing.
Acrobats displaying.
A Clown clowning.
Everyone enjoying.
Singing come come.
Come to the fair.
In the vast beauty and diversity
of the reaches of the cosmos
impresses upon us all
the shear minute dust we are
in any comparison
The simplicity of laws
that govern it's most basic
and complex movements
Birth , Life , Death
some would distain this as "circular"
as the patterns in creation are
for all things existing within its confines
the birth , life , death of stars , galaxies
entropy and the recirculation of those elements
into new structures encased
in the womb for new material
apply equally to the diversity of structures
cycling on the little blue marble
seed sprout bush tree seed
seed sprout plant flower seed
seed baby child adult seed
same down onthe cellular level
same down tothe atomic level
and its clock
in a state of perfectly circular self propagation
For those who foolishly accuse us of being
Let me explain a simple something
how we measure time in the cosmos
is based on a circular orbital movement of planets
and stars
and as for thinking
are questions seeking answers which just
lead to more questions
and that's the beauty of it
simplicity defines even the most
complex systems that function
right down to the circuit boards for computers
and technology
Mama seals it with Kiss
Keep it simple stupid
anyone who doesn't know
a clock embedded in the universe
has not recognized his own
Ecc 8:17
COPYRIGHT © 2013 C Michael Miller
via Duboff Law Group LLC
once came a man of civil tongue
spoke of another poet for what he has not done
tattered his name across the morning daily sun
depicted depraved drunk even a drug-addled madman he was none
since 1842 grudges just for some weird kind of fun
Rufus Wilmot Griswold Mr editor got his gun
posted Edgar Allen Poe Was Dead died in Baltimore the day before yesterday I just shunned
If this is what memoir of the author is I may be as well as be done
But believing in and still reading Poe's work I have forever keepsakes of suspense and fun
Tribute To Poe
Memoir Of The Author
Rufus Wilmot Griswold
Also Entry For Brian Strand's
Adaption Contest
Hysterical laughter in eternity
still crying out at the hypocrisy
of life lived under the thumbs
of the oppressing ones.
Freedom they said they would give us
If we asked the king to forgive us.
and if we agree to pay tribute
they would stop the rape and loot
we didn't even know
which ones were in control
at any point in time
the fully sublime
shiftings of power
by the day and the hour
locked in the ivory tower
and away from the peasant earth digger
they had much bigger
things to accomplish, than just a pleasant life.
And all the strife they laid upon us all
was part of the fall
from dignity.
It's a pity.
Then came the mines and the factories
warriors needed to keep the keys
to the city gates in the right hands
none of us really understands
the workings of the minds that need
so badly to succeed
that life has no meaning or worth.
Even less for planet earth.
And she's dying
and no one is trying
to revive her.
Now they want to survive her
and credit card shackles still hold the debtors prison
third world vision
is incomplete
no one can compete
in world markets controlled by the elite
we are the billion feet
of the crawling beast.
and at least
we could know why we chose it.
Just suppose it
could change.
Seems strange.
But if the feet stop running the treadmill of fear
and we all held dear
what was important, sacred, the sane
would we stop acid rain?
What if our lawns became gardens all
could we reverse Edens fall?
What if our children could eat and play
from natures sweet bounty every day?
Would cancer disappear if we stopped the spray?
and left no more poison where children play?
What if we made our own industries
in each of our communities?
What if we made windmills and power the sun
we may have just begun
a revolution
that holds a solution
for our planets peace.
I release my rage at the beastly machine
that holds destruction, Pull myself from in between
the cogs of the wheel of the corporate dream
and paint a new picture in the sky.
Of streets and towns and city planning true
ways and solutions that work for me and you
and the earth's evolution could take another turn
where we do not burn
in the hell of nuclear wastelands
It will take many hands
to undo the self fulfilling prophesies of armageddon
Get on board, this train is moving. get on
with it. We all fit in the grand plan,
the saving grace of man.
Hay Mom and Dad
It's been 40 years
Since you've been born
Now its time we change gears
You were to set the stage
And prepared the cast
You were to direct
For the torch to be passed
And now in this age
As we begin a new
You were to train us
So we could surpass you
Of course there have been mistakes
Cuz you all were blind
You destroyed the world
That you were to leave behind
Pushed on by greed alone
You didn't know
That that was your job
So you didn't show
The devotion
That was meant to raze
The heirs of this earth
That you set ablaze
But it's all good
We know our task
And unlike you
Our head is not in our ass
And we the newgeneration
Will fix what is done
Then teach the way
For the children to come
Mankind's sorrow felt
in HIS blood salvation dwelt….
on knees gamblers knelt
Two parallel Worlds divide my body and mind in two.
One World holds my heart, while the other holds my limp body.
One World shows the life i'v held in my heart, where there is good and there is bad, but everything in that World always ends in good.
The other World shows the life i'v feared for years, where there is nothing but bad, but everything ends in death.
I'v lived in both Worlds.
I'v hurt in both Worlds.
Both seem neither good nor bad at times.
But the funny thing is...
OUR world today is what those two Worlds have become.
( If you may PLEASE comment of Mail me. Sorry i havn't been on in a long time... ALOT has happened this year to me)
There I was and yet here I still am
once chasing that feeling,now with Gods help and by His grace
becoming a good man
my mother prayed and grandma cried... my actions said I didn't care
back there are haunting memories,situations,instances I seldom ever share
when He sat me down in a concrete room... I cried myself to sleep
wondering of who I'd become,trying on my own to be strong... but,still feeling so weak
I prayed and asked Jesus to pick me up once again
I apologized and prayed to my savior "Lord get me out of this sin!"
so here I am years later with a life I call my own
reading my Bible by the morning light,praising my God who has restored so much
and blessed me, with life, a saved wife, and a home!
I will put my half blood in a huge metal can.
Take it for chemical analysis.
So as to see my beliefs and my perception,
my vision and my aspirations.
Those i loved and others i hated.
With my other half i will paint in brick walls.
At the top,maby above all,
i will write these two words.
And then i will go to the store with aquariums.
Should the good be judged
for not having given enough?
Some will face humiliation or reprimand,
not by Christ Himself, but by folks who bluff!
There are many ways of giving,
it depends on willingness and feeling;
the most generous ones will give abundantly,
and those who aren't will give little obviously.
Then who should be judged harshly?
The ones who give out of the kindness
of their hearts, or the ones who are forced by society?
True givers are never asked...they give with eagerness.
In the eyes of the Creator, generosity is another virtue of human mercies...
when feeding the hungry with food and their soul with God's comforting words.
Well-to-do-folks and millionaries give away lots of money to charities,
but only a fraction of that amount is given to the needy who still knock on doors.
Nowdays even the good, who give of themselves, will be judged
for not doing enough to help the poor in constant distraught,
but isn't compassion more significant than any monetary amount?
Didn't Jesus praise the meager woman who gave all she had?
A Field of Blue and Thirteen Stars of White,
Once pitted against all England's might.
Courage shown by men who knew,
"Royal Freedom" would never do.
A hot July in Philadelphia town,
Where a rebellion's seed would now be sown.
Declared were freedoms all had sought,
Only now to be won, by battles to be fought.
"Don't Tread On Us" rose the cry,
On that day, that hot July.
But deaf ear turned to fisted hand,
As Redcoats marched across the land.
Invading brothers from across the sea,
Scourged the land which sought liberty.
The silent voices began to sing,
Across our land, "Let Freedom Ring"!
Amidst battles' shot, smoke, and shell,
Many an innocent, along with patriot fell.
Independence and Freedom were not easily obtained,
Only after so many deaths, a courageous victory gained.
So the Red Stripes were put on the flag for the blood,
Spent again and again wherever Liberty stood.
White Stripes were put on for the purity of soul,
That this new nation put forth as a whole.
O'er the years more Stars have been added to that Field of Blue,
But many more of its sons had to die for Freedom to be true.
Many say it's just a piece of cloth on a pole in the air,
They remember not the sacrifices that allowed us to put it there.
For strength comes from the people who live in this land,
The stength that willingly offers others a hand.
So, when the "Stars and Stripes" are raised above,
I get a sensation of humility, of pride, of love.
For the Flag that flies above us so high,
Is one of greatness in strength and dignity.
It flies as a beacon for all to see,
That this is the land of Freedom's Opportunity.
But that Freedom comes with a high price still,
We have paid, and still pay more we will.
And like those heroes of our past,
"Old Glory" beckons us to meet that task.
Let everyone know
whose on your lists
drop them a line this time to tell them
exactly where they sit on your favorites
let them know what their poem means to you while they are still alive
this is your interactive audience
your psychic sidekick
your spiritual inner workings guide
Let them know who is on your list
and then tell them to pay it forward and in a few more months
let it spiral out again
why sit in silence and never know
who your fans are
read up on them find their tastes
and pleasures and then help define them
Let me know please
who is reading me
tell me tell me
what poems of mine do you continually re read
the future
the future
the future we aim to touch
but if we don't work together to find out the present favorites
we might not ever know much
So teach me about my writing
who is my target audience of you
drop me aline so i can find
whose reading me and why
and what i can do
to entertain you
and the future in a better manner
so the competition will have a competitor in this corner
now please pay your favoritism forward
My heart focused, on the scene before my eyes
Not until I stood there, did I realize
The reflection of the world now at my back
Is covered by the surface, of that marble track
And just as the image, trapped inside the stone
I find myself amidst the crowd, yet totally alone
Awe struck as I stand here, camera ready, aimed
I'm covered by the blood, of the thousands named
I must capture this moment, for all the world to see
The men and women who live here, died to keep us free
This shot must be perfect, if it takes me all the day
It must portray the message, the reflection has to say
The visitors are endless, as time goes slowly by
I stand here in this presence, and I wonder why
War goes on forever, like reflections of the sky
I am angered and I'm saddened, by the harshness that I face
Why does the fighting never stop, no winner of this race
No peaceful end to the day, what has been will be
But the day I stood there, I knew they died for me
So listen to the message, from those who took the fall
It's hidden in reflections; in the tomb we call the wall
What if Christmas never happened?
What if Christmas never came?
Things around here would be different!
It wouldn't be the same!
What if the baby Jesus was never born in a manger?
Mankind would be in serious trouble. We'd all be in danger!
If the baby Jesus wasn't born. There would be no nativity.
We wouldn't be able to display this during our "festivity."
It's almost like this now!
It's an "ever increasing business."
It seems like nearly everyone wants
"Christ out of Christmas!"
Why does it seem like Christmas is
losing it's true meaning?
The very words; "Merry Christmas,"
seem to be quickly disappearing!
Many say; "Happy Holiday."
They worry they may "offend."
Having a "holiday" without Christ….
Once again!
We need to put Jesus Christ back into
our CHRISTmas season!
He is what Christmas is about! HE is the very reason!
May we all take some time to rejoice in our savior's birth.
May there be shouts of JOY! From the corners of the earth!
Let's not take Christ out of our joyous celebration!
We need him so much right now!
All over this great nation!
May we bring to him a heart of love
for everything he's done.
As we bring honor to Christ. God's precious son!
May we continually offer to him a heart filled with praise!
Not only at Christmas time… But all of our days!
By Jim Pemberton
It's like we're doing them people a favor
Showing them, that we own up to what they say;
Stereo types isn't the way,
But we as blacks are proving them right..
They believe that we'll kill eachother before the
Last night,
& all our women
gone fall a victim to the streets,
Weak minded;
Not even having our children anything to eat..
The only good thing we got going for ourself
Is education,
& that aint gone support the whole nation..
Come on nie,
We gotta take stand!
Teach our children how to believe in
Show our mothers that they
Can make it without a man!
Prove to our fathers,
That they'll regret they
Neglected us!
Tell our brothers the
"Freak" that noise,
& Stop that fuss!
Its like we all against
But it shouldn't be this way,
We gotta get it together some day;
Them people know what they doing…
Pretending to solve these crimes,
But knowing their using the same line,
Only place they wanna see us is the cemetery,
Or maybe jail?
But if we don't make there,
Best to believe:
They hoping we on the
High way to hell,
But we gotta prove em'
Its been too long,
Take a stand,
Cause black women don't need any man,
Children needa believe in themselves,
Fathers should regret the neglect,
& our brothers need to stop the fuss,
I'm trying not to cuss,
But all this frustration just built up
Its kinda hard to hide!
Think about it:
Luther King,
Malcom X..
& More, fault
For our freedom;
Now we got it,
& we abusing it,
Kinda like our fathers try our mothers,
But that's a whole other subject,
We gotta get it together
& that's a bet(:
Inspired by 2Pac Words of Wisdom(:
I saw you in this mornings sunrise
I tried to get close to you, but your light was blinding
You bear the resemblance of a day that I most remember
Shining bright over all in sight~ the month September
I can even smell your dew you left as a treat
How I wish to lay in it and allow it to cleanse me
Cleanse me of the memory, but make me one with you again
As if there has been no time in between
Just the frolic of love in the air
But it is obvious you dont see me looking
Or maybe you do and refuse to shine my way
Regardless, I saw you in this mornings sunrise
I will again step into it and approach my day.
Kashan Fields©
We Salute Our Veterans…
We salute every soldier who's
served this great nation.
And offer a heart of thanks
and appreciation!
We salute each member
of our armed forces.
And are thankful for their
efforts and resources!
We salute the many who
protect our borders too.
We'd be in trouble…
If not for people like YOU!
We salute every son and
daughter lost in a war.
YOU are what serving this
country is meant for!
We salute the officers who've
guided our women and men.
Our prayers are with you!
And our love from within!
We salute our veterans!
Wherever they may be!
Those who served on
land, air and sea!
Offering prayer to the
Lord is our belief…
That he will guide our
As we observe Veteran's Day this year…
Let's offer our soldiers
love, hope and cheer…
May God bless them in
all they endeavor
And his peace be with them
today and forever!!
By Jim Pemberton
Easter lilies bloomed
where His sweat fell to the ground
hope of Christ's return
a garden pure white
life everlasting
By Rhonda Johnson-Saunders
*The Easter lily symbolizes purity, hope and life.
Tradition has it that lilies were growing in the Garden of
Gethsemane after Christ's crucifixion, and lilies
bloomed where his sweat fell, the hope of everlasting life.
Who threw water on the wick?
Who, as restless and trapped
can survive in this necropolis?
Trumpeting down the walls
that are not of Jericho.
Trumpeting down the walls
that besiege a chthonic people.
Tonight I shall return as a black dove
to bring you an oak tree branch from Dodona
And a darkness full of lightning
all the way from the palace of Atropos.
So that you stay up all night
and knead
a bright sunshine for tomorrow.
"Good morning wind-vane",
to say when morning comes,
"where do the winds blow from today?"
And just like a white horse
to gallop against the wind.
Rags and cloth alike
Cover thy skin
Bare skin, bare emotions
Essence of strength
Thick and thin circumstances
Never inquires, Never contemplates;
Society abandons, morals unjust.
Abundance of courage, of faith
Seething through pores, writhing through veins
Heart like gold, his aurora shines
Colors of livelihood filter, intertwine
Light shimmers in
Dark layers out
The horizon is beautiful.
I first
stared at this
woman rocking
I wanted to start whistling
James Abbot McNeill Whistler
Whistler's Mother { 1871 } Wikipedia
Also Brians Strand's Entry
Sequence Fibonacci Imagist Contest
Through the white mans cells
He ponders his tomorrow's
His dream has been found
Brilliant device
The directional ranging
Unit, the radar
My ability to face reality is dark
Since the future is a blackout.
But the brightness of each day is Yellow
with the rays of the sunlight.
As nature stays green
I toil and sweat colorlessly
till the day I stay brown;
I shall be mourn with a white conscience
While I leave a life of gold.
My past shall be old in peoples
memories as a flashback
My ink shall flow blue until I stop
And my scores shall be thick
with a red ink but it doubts,
If I fail, let tears flow from
my eyes to this scripts,
so the blue ink can be changed to indigo
But with positive thoughts,
I pass to smile while sending my red tongue out
As season changes, so do leaves
change from green to orange
From rainfall, we enjoy colors as rainbow
Mighty and strong was he,
Better then the most of thee.
Killer of many a man,
Alas to soon his life turned to sand.
Many morn and weep it is clear to see,
For they know no better warrior will come after thee.
There he lies,
and until the end of time,
He will always lie.
The Great Achilles was the best of the best,
For now he lays completely at rest.
Out there
Used stake
He's baked
Tribute To Halloween
Also Entry For
Donna Golden's Footle Fright
From beneath the dust bowl storm, from when st they came,
Blazing a trail across the pages of historical fame.
Accelerations desperadoes, with guns drawn, wild hearts
Beating as thunder, they are the restless and free,
Bandits of the youthful passion called rebellion.
Living and thriving by the bullets firing, escaping in
The blood's adrenalin rush, burning rubber down,
The highway of tragedy.
The untouchables, burnt a cinder by desires flame,
Fallen stars of legends notorious, lit comets crashing,
To the earth below, dieing in a hail of gun fire.
A faded poster, hangs on a rusty nail, along side
A dusty deserted road, in bold prints lettering,
It is so written, wanted the Barrow Gang, reward
Offered dead or alive, for Bonnie Parker and
Clyde Barrow.
Slammed down the trigger, against the bullet's
Hardened edge of conflict, the lawless have
Drawn first blood, but the silver shields power,
Have they angered, and revenge is a cold slippery
Surface to exist upon, shall their souls not fry,
Beneath the summers sizzling sun.
Cry does not Juliet, to her Romeo, as the gray
Smoke clears, Bonnie's last words softly
Spoken, his name, Clyde, Clyde, than silence.
Two doves soar towards heaven, blinded
By the light beyond, spiritual castaways, bond
Eternally to one another, lost in the dream illusion,
Of their love.
The lone highwayman, the grim ripper,
Cradles the youthful broken frames,
Of the lovers, cut apart by fame's delusions.
Lain in a hole, in the cold hard ground.
A tear did even he, the angel of death,
Wipe away, and placed a single red rose,
On Bonnie's grave.
Do not weep on their behalf, for in God's
Kingdom, they'll know a freedom, they've
Never known.
Devious minds parade torrents of wealth,
their dazzling brands erode away our health;
we're throwing a tea party!
Justice molds our rage of their proud disdain,
we vow to do more than merely complain
by launching this tea party!
We've had enough of their supremacy
choking our hymn of sacred liberty:
a justified tea party!
Over the edge, we reject their cargo
from West Virginia, on up to Fargo,
this nationwide tea party!
Shredding that plastic to shut down their flow
until we induce those war gears to slow:
our defiant tea party!
No longer bound by blind complicity,
we lift the curtain with simplicity,
marching in our tea party.
We often hear this topic across our nation.
Another person crying; "discrimination."
In our many attempts to not discriminate.
It seems like it's God that we seek to eliminate.
It seems like we've come up with our own "rules."
And somehow have turned into a bunch of "fools."
We accept many perversions of various kinds…
But God himself? We seem to close our minds!
In many of our lives, we've "kicked " him out.
And refuse what he really is about!
The words, "In God we trust..." Our money bears it!
Anything of God? We're afraid to share it!
It seems like the courts almost say he doesn't exist!
And have brought much confusion into our midst!
As many say it's "offensive" to display a cross…
Many godly values have already been lost!
It's time to wake up America! And begin to see!
The kind of country we're beginning to be!
A country that's foundation is getting off course.
Being driven by a wicked and ungodly force!
Out only hope is in God! And him alone!
We must invite him back into our homes!
To God and his word we must hold secure and fast!
He is our only hope, that our country will last!
By Jim Pemberton
Cold looking marble delivering heated forms
Masterful devotion shining a brilliant glow,
Muscular detail showed, extinct from norms.
Depicting mercy and faithful devotion to know,
Chiseled by a man with deliverance to show,
From an earthen treasure, he delivered peace.
Though from a tragedy with spiritual flow,
A masterpiece tells a story that will never cease.
Four souls captured so diligently in art.
Molded and shaped by hand so clean.
Capturing the story for anyone's' heart.
Standing the ages of time so pristine,
Awakening of spirit of all who will behold,
Expressing gallant finesse his gift as told.
Burning, white heat coursing across flesh
A honky no longer
Leafy flecks marbling skin like wire mesh
Relax and grow stronger
Silence attacked by Dolly Parton's CDs
A boiling furnace
Darts competitions bring you to your knees
The sun only burns us
The water is contrastingly icicle cool
At night the sunshine abates
Trapped voluntarily here by the pool
Package holidays are great!
On this day, we were attacked;
On this day, we were mobbed;
On this day, our freedom was tested;
On this day, we all sobbed.
On this day, we all stood still;
On this day, we all held each other;
On this day, our lives were changed;
On this day, we tried to save our brother.
On this day, we all said a prayer;
On this day, we all hoped for the best;
On this day, our faith was strengthened;
On this day, we laid the brave to rest.
On this day, we will pause for our nation;
On this day, we will never break;
On this day, our country is united;
On this day, we stand for freedom's sake.
It can be gloomy as winter's dreariness...
when nothing else glistens but cold snow;
and it can be as mysterious as summers' nights...
when the crickets are heard from a dark lawn.
Come out and see the many images of the pale moon,
which changes its shape on certain months, or days of the year:
full moon, half moon and three quarter of a moon
still captivate us more than any other planet distant and clear.
Who hasn't heard legends about this mysterious planet not so cheery?
In Medieval Times, it seemed to have magical powers so solicitous;
and to whom it was so leery...if not to a saint exalting God only?
Poets of this age...wonder how it turns lovers passionate and amorous!
I have contemplated with admiration the many images of the pale moon
for almost a lifetime: from my hilarious childhood to my hermetic manhood,
and it hasn't broken its incantation, or changed a bit in color and even mood;
if I could reach it, I'd transform it into a garden of loveliness as anyone should.
In honor of the Land of the Free
Forget not the tears of the abused
The pain of those persecuted
The courage of the pioneers
The land of the free offered refuge,
Liberty comes at a high price.
Forget not those who defended your rights
At the cost of their life
It is so often the peacemaker's plight
And the cries of those left behind.
Liberty comes at a high price.
Forget not that you used to be deprived
Desperately seeking a way to survive
But now you can choose the way to thrive
In this land so often criticized.
Liberty comes at a high price.
Forget not that no land has ever offered
Such freedom that to man so matter
Opening its door to a future better
For you and me, brothers and sisters.
Liberty comes at a high price.
All these privileges you enjoy
Could never have been in employ
Without those who braved all odds, giving up their own joy
In my name, your God.
Liberty comes at a high price.
August 6th, 2007.
Entered for Dane Ann's contest, "Liberty and Freedom to choose".
For Bob Dylan
sheltered from the howling winds of vows and scattered souls and sweltering hate
she is a refuge from the blistering sands of dread and loss and torn and twisted fate
when the emptiness inside becomes an abyss so dark and wild and cold
my words get lost in the jangling alleys where dreams are bought and sold
I met her in those alleys among the withering roses on a bed of thorns
and she filled me up with poems banishing the scowling moments and their baleful scorns
now I lie awake and wish that I could sleep and drift away into the maze of her dream
but slumber has fled and slipped the noose around my words as they thrash around and scream
words that swirl around and around like that scarlet scarf wrapped around her face
she's a mystery still as she will always be while I sift through this empty desolate space
the storm it broke and ceased and shuffled my words as they drifted forlornly into the chasm of the dead
leaving me here still and mute and frantic as I try to pick up the pieces of all the words that have been said
far too many far too often far too conceited and far too proud
for I failed to hear the stillness of beauty as I rambled along barking my words out aloud
she hushes me now as she hushed me then in the cobwebbed tunnels of the past
while I weep more words in blood and ink onto dried parchment meant never to last
so tell her that her whiskey has been greedily gulped down and now that I am soberly drunk
I see her songs and hear her breath reaching down into my mouldy abode of hapless funk
fare-thee-well for now as I slide into the scribbled hubris of another battered rhyme
dazed by the glaring embers as they scorch the moments of quickly fading time
and if tomorrow finds me here still shell-shocked and drained in body and in mind
tell her that her wine has slipped through the loose knots that bind
tying me to this place of sanity and insanity all rolled into one
while all is numb and scarred from the deed that has been done
and as I flee recklessly chasing away myself from me once more
she'll know the words for its a song that's been sung far too many times before
(for bob dylan)
We were in the field,
Tending our sheep.
All was so quiet,
We were falling asleep!
In the blink of an eye,
The sky turned so bright!
All the angels appeared,
We trembled with fright!
Glory to God in the highest,
The host of angels did sing!
The news of the Messiah's birth,
To us they did bring.
Born in the City of David,
And in a manger He lay.
He's wrapped in pieces of cloth,
You will find Him this way.
So off we went to,
Search for this child.
Who was born this night,
In a way so meek and mild.
We were struck with awe,
As we came to the place!
We felt so unworthy,
To even gaze upon His face!
So humbled by the fact,
The angels gave us this news.
We are just shepherds,
The lowliest of Jews!
But with joy overflowing,
We sang praises in the street!
We began telling the Good News,
To everyone we would meet!
Then back to the field to,
Tend the sheep we went.
Praising God for our Messiah,
And the night's events He had sent!
The dedication of this journalist gem
Whose writing, brought down
Drug dealing men
Eire's Sunday Tribune
And Sunday's Business Post
Newspapers of note, for in them she wrote
But it was the criminal world
And her writings so splendent
That craved her to write for the Sunday Independent
This brave reporter put her life on the line
To reveal to her country
Their drug filled slime
To avoid libel
Pseudonyms she chose
To protect the paper, from legal blows
Drug dealers uncovered
Showing their ill gotten gains
Irrespective of lives and families pains
Threats turned to visits, firing shots at her home
To deter her uncovering
In her investigative roam
Three months later she was shot in the leg
But the dedication of her
Thousands of newspapers were read
Near Newlands Cross
On the outskirts of Dublin
On a motorbike, two men with a gun
At a traffic light junction
With a Magnum .357
Ireland's Journalist Jewel, was taken to heaven
The name of this gem
Veronica Guerin
" In memory of a brave woman, wife and mother who took on the
criminal underworld in Dublin, Eire "
I hear the ticking of the clock
I don't know how much longer I can face this walk
I hear the sirens flaring in my ears
I look way back a couple of years
I see childhood faces of kids growing up
I see the first time ever I got my very own pup
I hear all the words kids used to tell me
I'm completely chained down without being free
I hear the evil laughs echoing in my ears
I see the frustration, pain, and fright from all these years
I slowly seep in this everlasting lie
I pray to roll over and just die
The footsteps they creep up and down the hall
While my disfigured body crumbles against the wall
The black and blue slowly climb over my face
Beaten alive by my very own race
Blacken tears crawl desperately down my cheeks
I feel like I haven't slept for weeks
My soul's been stolen and there's nowhere to run
I can't believe how I could have been so dumb
He's in my face screaming as loud as his lungs allow
Wearing nothing around my body but a bloody bath towel
I listen to his degrading words echoing in my mind
I've gotten myself in this eternal bind
When he raised his hand the first time, I should have been gone
But he told me he'd change--I guess he was wrong
Almost four years now and I realize
If I stayed longer, I could have been dead or paralyzed
So I sit here and think about what happened then
I sit here and realize I finally did win
I got away alive and well
From my forsaken, stalking, hell
I've moved on now and I'm stronger
I'm glad this test wasn't any longer
Surrounding myself with opened eyes
No more asking myself all the why's
Understanding now that there were no intentions of change
So blind then--body derailed and deranged
Self-esteem still extremely low
But now I've experienced it and now I know
So almost four years later and sit and rethink
About the times when my pirate ship did sink
But I'm still not the only one
So many battered women under our sun
Every now and then the Deja-vu slips in
But I simply remember the one time I did win
Here's a picture of Hindrix practicing on stage;
how tender is the revealing image...
as he strokes the guitar's strings,
exaggerating the pitches of his melodies!
Rock was Hindrix's joy...he loved
to play it while crowds were dancing;
he laughed between breaks, knowing
that it'd have been globally shared!
what if there was no religion?
what if we spent Sunday mornings in a park, not in a church?
what if people gave out encyclopedias, not bibles?
what if instead of fighting over our beliefs, we celebrated our uncertainty?
what if instead of blind faith, we had insightful curiosity?
what if instead of religious conviction, we had rational perception?
what if our morals were shaped from real life experience, not from a book?
what if people were proactive with their concern, and did not pray?
what if love was unconditional, not contingent?
what if you had freedom, not a plan?
what if people were good, because they are good, not because they are afraid to be bad?
what if people did crazy things because they are crazy, not because they are raised crazy?
what if earth is just lucky to be here, and is not made for you?
what if we lived our life, on our own terms?
would that be so bad?
~ Independence Day ~
Born into freedom
I can't imagine any other life
Free to make up my own mind
Free to choose my own path
For this I am forever grateful
As I stand up and salute
The Red, White and Blue
~ Independence Day ~
It comes with pride
A Call to Duty
All traits to be honored
And admired
So here is to our men and women of the armed forces
Helping keep our country free and safe
Standing up for what we believe in
Standing Proud, Strong, and United
I salute you
Every day and especially on
~ Independence Day ~
To those have served before
To those who have gone and passed away
Be it in the line of duty
Or any other way
I salute you
Every day not just on
~ Independence Day ~
So here is to this country
Standing proud
And United under our banner
Our flag
Letting freedom reign over
The Red, White and Blue
One nation
With billions of hearts
Joined as one
~ Independence Day ~
By: Jean Shular
For all the soldiers, past, present and future
Living and passed on
I salute you
I thank you!
Michael Nutter is Philadelphia's
Third African American mayor,
His middle name is Anthony but
Together his name stands for MAN,
He has two children and a wife,
That understands that he has to lay people off until he gets a better plan.
Michael Nutter may be the "man"
But to run a city he needs a lot of hands.
He ran for councilman and became the Chairman.
He went to Wharton business School and learned about the rules.
He is the mayor of Philadelphia and I think that's cool.
He has closed a lot of library and most of the neighborhood pools.
He replaced John Street and hired someone the people couldn't fool.
He is the mayor of Philadelphia and he 's always talking about what he wants done to
public schools.
Michael Nutter is the mayor of Philadelphia and he's always on the news.
James Joseph Brown is his the name
singing and entertaining was his game
hes referred to as the Godfather of Soul
but it all came to a tragic toll
he was recognized by numerous of titles
and I'm guessing he went to alot of recitals
he was called the hardest working man
and everyone was his fan
he was associated with three acts
who all worked off their backs
he was one of the best
unfortunately he died like the rest
he died of a congestive heart failure
even though he wasn't a traitor
he's buried deep underground too bad he didn't have his crown
The very word "anthology" means
"flower-gathering", or "I gather flowers"
rooted in ancient Greek, to describe
the act of collecting
Perhaps on some rocky Athenian hillside,
a maiden and too perhaps,
a young strapping man
walk tentatively,
amidst the rocky slides
of life and lust,
to gaze at the beauty
of shining black hair, flowing robe
over curved bosom, and beautiful feet,
too sinewy biceps, strong torso
and voice, behind alluring smile
They regard each other,
as desirous lovers always do,
with wanton coyness
and amorous trepidation
pausing, from time-to-time
perhaps to bend and pick some
wild flower that bloomed on
antiquities hillside
He would hand it to her
and she would, take it in
for a few moments, then
warmly look at him and
carefully find the perfect
place in her expanding
bouquet of colorful hope
that she held for him and her,
while perhaps,
the sun slowed it's
interminable baking
of the earth, and grapes
and wood smoke
added ambiance to
the possibilities
of an evening together
collecting a life
one bite, a touch,
a gaze, a scent,
a whispered adoration -
one feeling at a time
© Goode Guy 2012-04-26
love is coming home
my internalized right wing psychosis
creates the need to explain
And justify
My 21st century poetry
Technology has made us mad
And psychotic
But driven us together
forced into oneness
Technology is blowing down barriers
Blowing down
Blowing down
Something is calling me
Something telling me
I have something to say
Capitalism's madness
Striking literary chords
Deep inside
Inner poet
Neurotic historian
Its best when I let go
Let flow
Allow this crisis
To sing my song
Sing my song
Sing it sing it sing it
Sing it like billie
Sing it like odetta
Lullaby. So desperately needed
Inner childs calm
This is a time when my poetry is most needed
In "the second great depression" madness
loves horizon coming and calling
Vision clearer than ever
Coming home
Coming home
Love is coming home
News tells me
Faces tell me
Ethos tells me
Everyone tells me
Love is coming home.
The great upper mid west
Minnesota put to the test
Ten thousand lakes and streams
Reality for many who like to dream
From Itasca state park
To the Louisiaina's wooden bark
The mighty Mississippi flows
Gently down the outcrop she goes
Crime rates are always's on the rise
But really does it come as such a surprise
Everyone seems to like to hug
Except when its a mosquito bug
So many call us Minnesota Nice
But some still say were Cold as Ice
A thousand jewels tumble from sunlit Heavens,
betwixt them a Creator's canvassed covenant.
Gentle revelation, another miracle of life - witnessed.
The hand that once caressed my cheek
Is now resting on her hip
The voice that once hypnotized me
No longer speaks my name
The eyes that I once gazed into
Are now peaking over at me
The feelings we had once
Are never to be resurrected
We once had this closeness
That will never be forgotton
For there was a time once
When we could have had it all
Let us never forget
If all the things I have right now were taken away and I had nothing left I would fantasize about nature and how beautiful it is. I would imagine that I was swinging on an old tire swing in front of a river. In the river were little ducks and I would go feed them. In my life right now I don't think of nature that way. I think if my freedom was taken away I wouldn't take it for granted the way I do and I would know how much it actually means to me. I would also imagine my family getting together for my family reunion. We would usually have them in September. My aunt would make her fancy white cake topped with chocolate drizzle. My grandma always made her jello cake; I still don't know exactly how she makes it. The others would bring KFC, at least three boxes full of chicken and fries. All the kids would sit together and play games and laugh as we threw food at one another. We would have a game where the kids lined up from age 1 to age 13 and you would get to pick a prize appropriate for your age. I would always get stuck with bath soap and tooth brushes.I take a lot of ordinary things for granted and I think a lot of people do but they won't admit it. Sometimes I even take life and my freedom for granted. I think that if maybe we wouldn't take things for granted like the trees or our freedom that maybe our lives would be a lot better and things wouldn't happen the way they do. I have lived long enough to know that it won't happen, nothing happens the way you want it to. Just a few months ago I lost my grandma and I couldn't do anything to help her. I took all of the things she did for granted and now that she's gone I miss her. She used to make this tuna casserole, it was just amazing but I never told her just how much she meant to me. I think if I would have told her that more then I wouldn't feel so guilty or depressed that she is gone. I never told her what I needed to. If people could use the words of John Lennon "Imagine Peace" and actually think about it then maybe the world wouldn't have to end because there wouldn't be any enemies, murders, drugs, none of the bad things would have happened. If we could have just accepted everyone around us for who they are and known that one day we all have to die, we could have stepped back from it all and said I had a good life and I don't regret any of it. I think it's no good to step back from something and tell yourself that you could have done something to prevent it.
What religion has created through the ages
is a false gospel with much incredibility;
a helpless Christ on that cross...
instead of a resurrected One
ascending to His glory;
He's still mocked and alone!
Faith is stronger than religion,
it trascends all souls
in search of truth and hope;
and it can't be taught by words alone!
Faith was the stronghold
of prophets and saints!
Let it become our fortress
in the days of weakness,
and fervently pray with confidence
that no harm will come from others!
The sacrificial altar needs no lamb,
the ultimate sacrifice was made...
the reconciliation between Man and God,
and a Mediator to atone every sin committed;
many still believe in a harsh punishment...
by demons who dwell in Hell!
Let's be like David who exalted Jehova God always,
and proclaimed His greatness for all ages!
Let's fear no man, but trust in the God of Moses...
who parts our waters in troubled times,
and lets us walk safely to our shore;
let's be as faithful as they were!
The crumbling down of the Berlin Wall finally
ended the Cold War as a defiant Reagan challenged
Gorbachev as his famous words were spoken mightily,
"Mr. Gorbachev, tear it down!"...And he shouted them with rage,
while the heavy sledgehammer cracked it from the other side;
and a divided, lonely city still felt its utter demise.
On November 9th, nineteen-eighty nine, Berliners of both sides
tore down the humiliating wall which had separated them,
and with sledgehammers and bare hands they frantically
stripped it of every brick that prevented them, for a long time,
from sharing what the neighboring countries enjoyed;
and what was most desired by them was national unity.
Today is another day of remembrance and profound reflection:
when the two Superpowers agreed to end the plague of a city
that couldn't breath and prosper as the other European cities;
and remembering Reagan's words thundering behind that tall wall,
convinced a socialist regime to comply and bring back the harmony...
everywhere there were delirious shouts and many shed joyful tears.
Humanity, don't put the blame on an entire Nation for the horrible things
done to another race: their Dictator was coarse, evil and vainglorious
as many were, have been and still are throughout World History;
and to seize power, it takes a tyrant who loves bloodshed and condescends dignity!
Wars are won by intuitive generals maneuvering their troops and warships...
before there was the sword, later the cannon and airplane, now technology is supreme.
If folks are denied freedom in all its various forms, tear your wall down
with all the required tools, halting the evil-doers despicable deeds,
and still be able to defend your vision of liberty, so defend it with alacrity and write
an ode or a ballad with an allegro tempo and remember Reagan's words
by unfurling your flag to cheerfully welcome your kindred who were exiled;
use the same words he spoke to unlock the closed minds so intramural.
Where there was bitterness and sadness, now there's irrepressible joy
and the streets and boulevards are open to all who were given a boundary,
and as it was anticipated the Berlin Wall had to be taken down to establish democracy;
celebrate Berliners and enjoy the fruit of your labors, your spirit will not down,
reminiscing the separation and grief that was caused by a socialist tyranny...
remember Reagan's words when you recall your divided city at the beginning of each dawn.
Copyright 2009 by Andrew Crisci
They stand there in silence
Regardless of rank
Far from their aircraft,
Ship or their tank
They stand in formation
Row upon row
Unmoved by the presence
Of wind, rain or snow
They stand on the hillsides
They stand in the field
In numbers so large
All the ground is concealed
They stand there for justice
For freedom they call
They represent soldiers
Who gave us their all
We stand tall and proud
For all those who served
We give them the honors
They richly deserved
We stand in respect
While the flag is displayed
When it's handed to loved ones
And Taps are then played
We stand there in silence
And in silence request
The Lord take them home
Now we've laid them to rest
June 14th is the Army's Birthday - I meant to post it that day but lost track of days.
I could trace back in the past
Since my disorganized mind can't handle all of the excitement
I feel an urge to discover something new, but what's there to dig up?
I could explore a new terrain...but my mind can't keep up
I feel like traveling back in time
Perhaps I could have one more chance to change my past decisions
But it's just my imagination...soaked up in grubby grime
The unbearable sense of impoverishment...ruins my ambitions
Solitude will breathe
Spiritual introspection
Communing with God
Jesus Alone, the One True Hope
for the hearts and lives of men.
How grand and monumental the scope
of lives being born again.
This Kingdom life is what I write of
in that God shows us the way.
To enter this life is to know Christ's Love;
that my words lift Him, I pray.
This seems to be a repeated theme;
once more I write of His Love.
History's true hope for lives redeemed,
this One from Heaven above.
Yes, there have been good men who have lived
from past times up to this day.
But not one of them has life to give
except for life's One True Way.
Jesus, the Way the Truth and the Life,
is this not what we believe ?
In Him is found the end of all strife
and the promise of all we'll receive.
Never would I have believed,
Such things could be true,
That people would conceive such evil,
In their unGodly desire to hurt you...
Your crime?: existence
You have no right-
Just ask a holocaust survivor
of their Nazi plight...
Ask the dead in lower Manhattan,
Slain for a version of God,
In Arabic, not Hebrew or Latin
Or innocent blacks hanging from a tree
The Klu Klux Klan's reaped crop, for all to see...
I sometimes wonder if I want..
to be part of this world...
And just when I think I'm sure,
That this is not where I want to be,
Some sweet, innocent soul comes along,
to much befuddle me,...
I've lately found a treasure trove,
of just such wonderful people,
Who's very existence stopped me
from "flying the coop"...
'Cause these are my wonderful
From good old PoetrySoup.
A wicked heart blinds the eyes and steals the soul's redemptive growth
A corrupted mind is never forgiving and hates a tender smile
But because there is an abundance of joy built in strength
I see my fellowmen as humanitarians and as friends
I am the modern-day Bob Marley chanting my redemption song
I am today's preacher giving thanksgiving and praise
I march like Martin Luther for I have a dream
I sing like the angles in a humble refrain
Unity solidifies the heart
Eternal love prides the eyes
A rolling dice have many outcomes
Chose the possibilities of your successes
So I dance like Fred Astaire as I glide through out life
I will box like Mohammed Ali and sting like a bee
I want to be the modern-day sunshine casting my light upon the world
Just a natural woman roaming and visualizing my plan
There are so many things to be thankful for
There are so many good silenced by loud noise
Like Whitney Houston I have nothing without you
At the end of the day I will always love and treasure my miracle.
Somewhere over the rainbow,
A great civilization flourished,
And we discovered a wonderful kaleidoscope
Of exuberant and vibrant humanity
Enchanted tones tell a story
About a people made from dusk
And red clay
They blend into caravans
Of strong and beautiful faces
The royal kingdom with majesty,
Sits on the throne,
And the mighty lion with pride,
Rules its dominion
Rights, rituals and passages
Speak of our greatness
Traditions taken from the ancients
Are the seeds planted
As we enter the sacred place,
Paradise is never forsaken
Behold, the true Garden of Eden,
As we drink sweet water
From the Nile River
Timbuktu astronomers study the heavens
Mandingo and Zulu Warriors display
War painted colors like
The broad plumage of a peacock
They stand gripping tall sharp spears
And poisoned arrow tips to launch,
Thus, ready for battle
Juju medicine man mix repeated chants,
As he drifted into a spiritual dance
At daybreak,
We go down to the river flow,
And shadows rise like the moon
Hearts beat in rhythms
Like fine tuned African drums,
And the rainy season
Stay bound to Mother Earth
At the edge of a crackling fire,
The enchanted medicine man
Delivers magic words and potions
Great powerful heavens
Lift every voice up and sing,
To the sweet harmony of Africa
From the heights of heaven you sent him forth
through the womb of woman he found his course
with your own power you gird his hips
with the truth of the kingdom on his lips
For this purpose was he created
his life for ours was his traded
He would open our eyes so that we see
bestow the gift of living for eternity
He percieved mans deepest inner parts
hidden in the well of their hearts
Touch with kindness our inmost being
return to us tender hearts of feeling
For his sacrifice he is the Most Beloved
angels did minister and our sins he covered
simplicity the path he would live
his heart to the masses did he give
The depth of his Love he demonstrated
for his judgement the priests him hated
He cast out devils and healed the blind
comdemned by council because he shined
The mulitudes with truth did feed
into Gods Love they would be freed
The council of Priests moved to crucify
clothed in darkness to prefect did lie
By a faithless disciple was he sold
for thirty silver as was fortold
in suicide did disciple take
for selling his Lord to the torture stake
The shepherd surrendered his soul for the sheep
to awaken minds and hearts from deaths sleep
In exhortation to follow his example
speak the truth and lies to trample
to take upon ourselves his yoke
and teach the kingdom about which he spoke
That the God of Love we should embrace
til the time we will see his face
sources the gospels and epistles
COPYRIGHT © 2010 C. Michael Miller
via Duboff Law Group LLC
Liberty island stands the presence of she
This green goddess
A gift, to an amazing country
Presented from France in 1886
In New York harbour
Where she graciously sits
Her body of, pure copper sheeting
When you arrived by ship
Your first American greeting
America, this greatest of Nation
The more i think, gives me warm sensation
This indigenous land, modern and free
The lady with the torch
Statue Of Liberty