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 Apr 2018 Hannah Marr
Cana
The fight, dear one.
Is not in the day
surrounded by faces
You’ll forget anyway.

The fight, my dude
Is in the stillness of night
When your thoughts run free
No distractions in sight

The fight, my friend
Is not at your work
To ****** the eunuchs
Sway the unswayable Turk.

The fight, little one
Is inside your mind
With thoughts of not good enough
Dispel them, be kind.

The fight, old girl
Is not in your home
Where your husband is wallowing
In chairs of black styrofoam

The fight, my sister
Is for the light in you
It’s always burned so bright
Stop worrying, let it shine through!
Be strong little one, set your goals, work towards them with blind ambition, do not let the world around you destroy your light.
 Apr 2018 Hannah Marr
Nimbus
I can no longer hide
My soul ignited

once disparaged
I long to share it

The chills in my spine put into words

Lips on skin
Eyes filled with sin

What is this sensation

I drip colors you cannot see

Heightening my passion
Enhancing my touch

Raw emotion channeled as such

My desire aches
The color of flush
My cage breaks
Expressions of lust

I do not fear it
I can hear you blush

My favorite sound

Our souls combust
My restless soul longs for something fulfilling
"Inked Vein's Bleeding Sins"      
(written by me on April8th2018).

  You mentioned, "Why write 'coz
            nobody even reads
   them much less clicks like,"
   Maybe that shouldn't be a
     question, maybe you ask...
        who are you writing for,
       them? or for you & your
                soul's sanity?
   If you answered, 'for them'
  then maybe it's not your
                 reality? 
 I write 'coz my inked blood vein's bleed what everyone calls
                        sin;
I write for their sins, I write for mine, I write the sins committed  by soul's since the beginning of time. I don't write to make up some dope thyme. I bleed the sins committed by soul's before
          the beginning of time.
I write about sins committed by all mankind; those committed in heaven, in earth, under earth
   and everything in between.
  I know our ONE & Only Perfect REDEEMER, already shed His precious blood to cover all sins
               like a flood.
  I write for the sanity of my afflicted mind, I write from the blood that's on the sword that pierced my very soul.
I write so maybe our sins can be covered & we're made whole. I write 'coz I feel God's Holy Spirit in my soul. I write to claim His
       victory; that keeps Satan's
     demons away from the my soul.
                     ~Venjencie©
This was my true poetic reply when someone asked me, why should they even write anymore because no one  read's them anyway. Their words, not mine. So I in question form to make them think is why I wrote this & mentioned some of the reasons that I write.
  Plz don't misunderstand the last 2 paragraphs. In no way is my intention to lead a reader to believe; that I bleed to redo what God did or because His was not good enough.
My intention is to imply that I write because my heart is sore and pierced by the inhumanity of this world. That's it, no more and no less. In no way I'm I trying to make a comparison to me and Him being alike. My metaphor only means, I write about the sadness & hurt through my blood(which is my metaphor for ink in this particular piece. Blessings and Love.
 Apr 2018 Hannah Marr
Jack P
teacher sent me to the doctor's office
teacher sent me home
teacher sent me to the place
where all the foul things roam

teacher gave me tic-tacs
to swallow when i'm sad
teacher said the chemicals
will make me sorta mad

teacher dries my eyes up
with platitudes enough
to even console all the kids who
are made of smarter stuff

teacher says confusion
is not a cause for shame
i'm not quite sure what teacher means
but i listen all the same

teacher treading tip-toed
lowering the tone:
"i'll help you with the theory here
but you'll practice on your own."
if you are sad, get people to help you not be sad, thanks
Irony often oozes the blood stain
That history will use to paint
An honest portrait of erstwhile deeds
Or to turn some altered soul to saint
Few are those that exist within the mist
Who loom larger than the shadow portrays
And seldom does a shadow exist undiminished
By the dreariest of all darkest days
So when seeking blood in passionate resolve
There comes a mordant aberration of unheralded stature
Rising to fly above mortal attributes into unremitted immortality
By assiduous conviction born of monstrous evil of unparalleled scale

Born among the Carpathian mountains
From the ancient and mysterious Transylvanian forests
One who seeks blood for righteous alliterations
Not for glory but for the saving grace
A quest to alleviate all alien allagory   alligned along the meandering memories of non-mordant minded men

No imagery conjured by Bram Stoker thru Van Helsing
Encompasses the unmitigated reality seen
The lifelong - still beating strong - near century long shadow of the denizen of our brightest outlook

The creation of circumstance as much as man ( unkind ) made

Maybe unheralded by too many
For such a knave am I so sorely cursed now...
With shame
I ...who have always strived
to drape myself
in the raiment of the eternal optimist
Now pay overdue homage to the true and absolute optimist
     BEN FERENCZ.... Is his name
Seek out his story now ..
.while he still lives
Reach back ..
Into those dark, dreary days
To share what history gives
and you will see what he means
    when he say's     
" I'm Right. "
     For I truly know that he is!  
     
 Keith w. Fletcher
      Humbled by the humanity exhibited.
I feel my bones soften
when I kiss you
then I am this supine
and mysterious thing
a black cat caught hot in
the moon-lit heat
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