2 am and i can't sleep
wide awake too tired to weep
funny how feelings
can make you weak
it's a long road, rough and steep
just hope i find the peace i seek.

people are so sweet and kind
if only they could help unwind
the tortured ropes within my mind
could help me break
the chains that bind
only God can help me find
bless'd release from this
pain which grinds

carrying a sack of stones
is no weight to bear alone
it will break my very bones
i want to cry, but will not groan
what I must do is clearly shown
i must be humble and atone.

i've got a message to be spread
been writing vanity instead
when all is done, all is said
when pretense is finally shed
is it truth or lies i've fed
my fire, in truth, is almost dead.

try and understand, my friends
no matter what the current trends
this path we're on
has trech'rous bends
the broad way winds
the narrow wends
but all paths DO have their END.

though i have been torn apart
it is time for a new start
strength comes from
the peaceful heart...


(c) soulsurvivor

Darling,
I need you
for the balance 
of my life

I run my finger across my lips.
They used to be soft and delicate
but this cold has frozen them.
My heart and my lips
seem to be chapped.

the art of mercy,
is not a hard thing,
to learn...

like pontilism,
you start...
with one small dot,
one act of kindness,
a smile, a word, a change
of heart,
to this add more,
build a picture of caritas....
shaded with compassion
and thoughtful deeds.

paint then, a new canvas
using, broad strokes of time
and heartfelt tears....
be magmanimous,
with colour,
care and altruism,
be bold and brave
with actions,
that come from
your need,
to see this world
as a legacy of love....

then, when you have mastered that,
take up your pencil
and draw,
in fine lined, forbearance and clemency,
a self portrait of forgiveness,
for we all need mercy....
and reminders,
to be of a heart most merciful...

then take your palette,
and new found skills
and become
an artist....
of the street,
teaching, giving showing mercy
at every turn or bus-stop,
every street corner....
under bridges, in tall towers
scrawl mercy, on walls
and sidewalks....
paint the town....
                   paint the town.....

the art of mercy....
               is simply,
                             beautiful,
               to behold,
                             at work,
               it changes,
                           just about,
               everything......
for the better...

I write to set my demons free
To let them out into the sun
Hoping they will vanish from my sight
I write so I can spill love, loss, and hate onto blank paper
Instead of my conscience.

You sailed millions of miles away
To a place of no visit
When I was holding
No meaning of this day
Many  years passed now
to me seemed  it was just yesterday
You never turned up to say bye


How I wish you were here
To embrace you with love and honor
Showering  you with gifts
Taking you to the end of the earth
But I only have memories

This Day is always  hard for me
Without you by my side
I stare at your pictures for quite a while,
But can't  get myself to smile.
More tears shed down my face,

It hurts me inside
but i  only understand
that we were born to die
no one will exist forever
Let my tears be a gift to you  mama
With mountain moving hope in my heart
One day we will share the same world of peace


EDITED BY : Cathy (Lady carter) , Trintus Chipeta and christopher Mbewu

FEELINGS FROM :  Omar Jimmy , Harry Kaiwa, James moyo and Mercy Gaveta

With  Wishes and dreams,  smiling
Effort and hope , growing
Pictures and conclusions, drawing
Love and care , pending

I touched every test of the night
Waiting for the breaking dawn
Looking around,  it  was out of sight
Holding my heart only to be left down

Then wishes and dreams ******
 Effort and hope , in vain  
Pictures and conclusions, erased
Love and care drown
Sending failed!!

If I can fight , I will fight
If i can write, I will write
If I can try it , I will try it
And be bright  And smart

My uncle slit a man's throat with a box cutter in my childhood home and didn't apologize.
Sitting in a circle filled with crack smoke and stale beer breath.
This is a shining example of what I've lived with
and the lengths I've had to go to escape the thing people call "destiny".

Thievery, lies, pressure, and violence
has been calling my name for the longest.
But I know the voice too well to be taunted.  

Words are my freedom and words are my piece of mind.
There is not a single substitute.
Whether poem, prose, or paragraph,
This is the only calling I've ever had.

I've lived with a hoarder, addicts, senility, and ignorance
in a variety of different combinations and forms.
At times, power, water, freedom, money, necessities, have all been an unachievable thing to me.
Lost to the vile goals of those folk I love.
I am the only one who sees the beauty in the fragile and odd.
The others see only a mess on a paper, and move their eyes to the nearest glowing box.

My father drowned when I was six.
My grandfather followed soon after.
My mother felt the stab of this and caved so many times.
I witnessed and shared the burden of her pain and grief.
My grandmother forgot everything she ever loved or knew, and short after passed as well.
Pets and possessions,
friends and followers.
All gone with a drastic breeze.
I am the one with the vision, but I am trapped in a shell of a city,
covered with that wretched stink of refined soy.

Will I be able to unburden the world from myself?
You all give me such great courage and allow me to share the beauty as I see it.
You all have such great skill with symbols and it makes me feel like home isn't far.
I want this. I want this.

If I keep breathing like the rest of the world
I feel I may miss the sound of the world's heartbeat.
But my death would not bring a solution for the ones I love.
Only a warrant for more death.
I need this. I need this.

With my words, I conjure up hell.
And hell brings with it the familiar.
Run little kitties, run.
The Doubling House and The Sequential Church will not hold forever.
My havens are temporary, but the craters are forever.
I will struggle till the pain becomes all I am
and I buckle under the weight of what I shouldn't have taken
from the mighty Atlas.

I do this for me.
I do this for you.

The soft rays of light
Streaming through
The veil of a lazy day
Covers yet to come off
Filters through
The windows of life
Radiant and playful
Messenger of hope
Warms the soul
Mixing with morning air
I inhale the aroma
of light