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Staff Sgt. Joseph D'Augustine
a proud Jersey son
whom Thou hast blessed
laid in St. Luke’s ground
for his heavenly rest
April 4, 2012

1.

in a far off province of
God forsaken Helmand,
our dear son Joey
met his untimely end

an explosive crack
a most terrible sound
felled a beloved Jersey son
to the cold cruel ground

working the live wires
of a well placed IED
a deathly burst killed him
it was awful to see  

Staff Sgt. Joseph D’Augustine
in solemn duty fell
fellow brothers in arms
will forever reverently tell

of courage and character
of a dear fallen friend
and how the valiant warrior
met with death at his end

for he was always faithful
to his beloved corps
comrades couldn't ask
a valiant marine for more


2.

details of his death
are not the real story
selflessness and bravery
are but part of his glory

is it brash to
question why he fell?
in a useless bitter war
an embroiled senseless hell

a generation mustered
to fight in the war on terror
serving four tours of duty
in a lost decade of errors

two tours in Afghanistan and Iraq
could a nation ask a man for more?
for he was always faithful to the call
upholding pledges he hath sworn

3.

the burden of war
to a  few confined
it rarely crosses
an American’s mind

incessant war machine
drones on apace
the horror of conflict
so cleverly displaced

with afternoon baseball
and super bowl parties
big disco paychecks
and other selfish priorities

pay hollow tribute
to dear weary troops
when valor is mentioned
we gather in groups

we’ll raise the flag
sing stirring anthems
than its back to the party
pay it no more attention

self styled patriots
wave handfuls of flags
but ask them to contribute
the zeal soon lags

its left to the few
to shoulder burdens of many
fairness is lost
its a democratic calamity

four tours in a decade
an inhumane task
burdens require sharing
its only fair to ask

Joey was always faithful
to the task at hand
willing to step forward
to serve his homeland


4.

in the wake of 9/11
a nation deeply shaken
young patriots stirred
liberty’s call not forsaken

a call to serve answered
to quell the rise of terror
a clear clarion alarm
marks the nature of the era

Joey boldly came forward
to train and learn
the art of warriors
his bright patriotism burned

deployed to Afghanistan
to capture Osama
routing the Taliban
without much problem

but a pacified Afghan
not enough for Bush
he invaded Iraq
another military push

we rolled into Baghdad
adorned with victors garlands
Saddam’s statue toppled
our troops were honored

deposing a dictators
soon turned to occupation
a ****** mission transformed
to build the Iraqi and Afghan nations

once honored liberators
now a conquering force
bestriding broken nations
on a civil war course

military industrialists
stood to profit most
sweet protracted conflict
record earnings to boast

lives bartered for lucre
a region held hostage
the conflict deepened
hostilities hardened

America dipped into
a great recession
the war machine
bled money and
kept on ticking

scooping up contracts
rewarding investors
the dividends of war
heaven sent treasure

continuation of hostilities
preys on a nation's youth
as casualties mount
ill portents forsoothed

a fraction of citizens
bare heartaches of war
gulping measures of despair
to guard a nations door

a nation always faithful
to the holy pursuit of profit
a highest citizens calling
put money into your pocket


5.

our beloved Jersey son
gave a full measure of devotion
in dress blues they shipped him
back across the ocean

on the Dover tarmac
they received his remains
for a last ride northward
to his hometown terrain

repatriated body
bereft of soul saluted
solemn escort knelt
hearts trembled, tears muted

a hearse for a gallant man
flanked by state troop cruisers
to escort the funeral train
assure an honored movement

one last trip up
old thunder road
the storied highway
Joey often trod

the last detail legged up 17
reverent firefighters saluted  
from overpasses
to honor  the woeful scene

as the motorcade passed
the Garden State Malls
frenzied consumers
failed to notice at all

busy window shoppers
didn't to turn an eye
as Joey rolled home
to the sweet by and by

vets interred at the
Old Paramus Church
gently stirred in their graves
reasons for war they search

Channel 12 Chopper
circled its eye in the sky
televised the sad parade
captured many teary eyes

the early spring blooms
colorful petals displayed
maples and forsythias
a royal carpet laid

spring remains always faithful
as the new season turns
offer sunshine and glory
as our sinking hearts burn

6.

motorcycle escort
northbound lane clear
rolling homeward
Waldwick was near

leaves exploding
green shoots budding
****** white maple blooms
natures accolades stunning

the oaks yet bare
just waking from slumber
winters death passing
a sad day put asunder

the motorcade passed
Joey’s home on Prospect Ave
few  envision lifes endings
this woefully sad

red chevy pickup idles
in hoop crowned driveway
never to drain jumpers again
departed children can’t play

the eye in the sky
framed neighbors in mourning
welcoming back a fallen hero
unsettled emotions dawning

neighbors waved Old Glory
from painted stoops and curbs
unsure how this tragedy
visits this blessed suburb

green grass of home
always flush with spirit
tears welled in the eyes
most difficult to bear it

last cruise of the town
sad neighbors stand witness
paying final due respects
and ponder from a distance

what purpose is served
by this man’s passing?
the dead cannot speak
rationale is for the living

the terrible herse
death circles our town
moves through our day
hope of spring drowned

murderer of sunshine
killer of young flowers
budding trees breaking
our hearts an ashen pallor

we remember the beauty
of Joey’s stout face
as it looked on your finest day
exuding pure honor and grace

old vets gather
donning caps and pins
boasting semper fi jackets
jutting tear dripping chins

shaking hands, giving hugs
bearing tattered banners
the hearse ambles onward
we head home in solemn manner

good folks are always faithful
where beloved ones grew
the death of our children
we sadly cannot undo


7.

the bells of St. Lukes
called out from the sky
platoons of limping vets
marched in with pride

pomp and circumstance
requisite dress blues
family, friends, townsfolk
overflowed the pews

doleful bells resound
tolling a mournful reckon
the cost of war mounts
a family’s loss beckons

the casualties of war
falls upon a nation's youth
a seasons page not  turned
a flowing wound not soothed

the wistful cornet calling
floats on the fluted air
the bereaved ***** gently sounds
a congregations somber despair

an unsettling dirge
the parish grows uneasy
nationalist bravado wanes
in the forlorn sanctuary

both church and flag
draped in colors of war
mock stain glass windows
communicants adore

is it a betrayal of the flag
to offer enemies
psalms of reconciliation?
where does true loyalty lay
with God or a warring nation?

afterall this is a sanctuary
where peace and harmony reigns
are we not called to beat swords
into ploughshares as the highest
calling of our Lord?

we are always faithful
to the pathways to war
when the practice of peace
is what we should adore

8.

coughing and whispers
incessant low murmur
a baby cries out
we sit and remember

the crucifers process
in solemnity to greet
subtle ***** notes salute
a coffin draped in Old Glory sheets

the beloved child welcomed
to his eternal repose
priests splash holy water
within the sacred dome

an amazing grace revealed
lifted by marine pallbearers
dearly departed body presented
gently placed at the altar

a grief struck sister
lovingly eulogizes
recalls tonka trucks,
GI Joe’s and cool transformers

a punch in the nose
an approaching wedding
beckoning Eastertide
vacation plans left begging

my second grade class sent
Christmas cookies and cards
to dear Joey and warrior friends
he said it warmed stark winter hearts

he was raised in this church
taught trust and reconciliation
the comfort of the Lords peace
may it surely go with him

for he was always faithful
to sisters, family and faith
his resurrection service
imbues sacredness
to this space

9.

sharp in dress blues
Eddie T USMC Gunny
big 50 caliber smile
offers his eulogy

Bada Bing Jersey Humvee
we called him Joey Calzones
good mood, loved sausages
he tickled the funny bone

always willing to sacrifice
loved the Patriots Tom Brady
a women dominated household
gave him a way with the ladies

his calling explosive ordinances
he said he was livin the dream
March 6th last time we met
knocking frost off cold ones
man whatta scream

a gallant marine,
beloved brother,
a sure friend
he was always faithful
I’m deeply wounded
by his untimely end


10.

the gospel read
the homily offered
Ecclesiastes wisdom
a time for everything
proffered

God never turns
an eye from the beloved
though seasons change
we are not forsaken
never unloved

as loss arrives
surely grief grows
turn away not
wisdom knows

in resignation
love lay dead
diligent intention
banishes dread

our rekindled hope
we rend and sow
our beloved Joey
knew this was so

our favorite son’s
example taught us
now rises on eagle’s wings
to claim his divine justice

Jesus faithfully tramped
the path to an awful death
Joey too fought the good fight
a warrior now gratefully at rest

The Lord holds him close
to the ***** of sure love
a cantors beatific voice incants
Joey’s spirit that forever enchants

The Lord is always faithful
to the bereaved and  beloved
no one ever forsaken
all unconditionally loved

11.

the Holy Eucharistic cup
affirms everlasting giving
tasted to nourish evermore
a libation for the living

singing the Beatitudes
praising peace makers
mercy filled voice and song  
pallbearers lift Joey’s coffin

off to seek his final peace
an earthly occupation ended
he’ll suffer worldly hate no more
down the aisle his coffin wended

the family closely followed
a mother haltingly sobbing
faithful marines came forth
to steady her wobbling

there is no sudden waking
from this terrible dream
the pungent incense rose
to the chapels sacred beams

the stained glass murals depict
the passion of Jesus’s story
illuming a consuming sorrow
in all its grace filled glory

the ***** of death slinks on again
we search for consolation
the recompense of honor blest
leaves a hollow heart wanting
no answers offered to quell the dark
of these terrible life’s moments
only the desperate need to hold onto
beleaguered treasure that sustains us

for we are always faithful
to the things we know
always faithful to the
things we refuse to let go

12.

the color guard and funeral detail
assembled in front of St. Luke’s
the cemetery right next door
the procession a short troop

the living will stumble through
the darkness of separation
seeking elusive answers
of poignant uncertainty;
all gave some, Joey gave all
nothing more required for his
journey through eternity

Joey will always be with us
his stories forever retold
as long as the machinery of
great nations engage
the gears of wasteful war

Joey’s spirit lives
in a peoples desire
for freedom, only if
our hope of peace
is greater than the
need for conflict

Joey’s lifes work
is sure to bear fruit
if those remaining
fight the good fight
by taking up the
task to protect and
expand the values
of liberty we
hold most dear

like our good
friend Jesus
Joey wears a crown
bejeweled with
a ring of thorns
hoisted on a
terrible cross
the sweet
incense of you
meets our nose
we inhale your
earthly presence
beholding beautifully
adorned crucifix,
a reminder of
unjust persecution
and a perfect
resurrection
yet this wretched
coffin remains

pledging allegiance
we rationalize our
stories, articulating
our small parts
in  heroic sagas,
reciting myths of
ourselves, recording
the grim history of
a young marine
surrounded by
a smart color guard,
feasting on todays
eucharist, this
days sweet taste
of  the daily bread
of human sorrow

The priest finishes
his graveside
commendation
of Joey D

Taps conclude
a wind rises
crows take flight
winging over
a stand of budding
Sugar Maples
exploding in white
blooms, reveling
in the glorious
sunshine of this
magnificent day

St. Luke’s stairway to
God Country and Home
smiling portrait of you
forever young

we surround your grave
to bless the earth
you've returned home
to your place of birth

our flowing pride
and salty tears bless
the anointed ground
that you loved best

a proud Jersey son
whom Thou hast blest
laid in St. Luke’s ground
for his heavenly rest

for he was always faithful
to the blessed land
forever at peace
in the soils sure hands

Charles Ives
The Unanswered Question

Oakland
11/10/13
jbm
Cné Dec 2017
~
O Painter
with thy own eye
                        would thee
paint me in mine own natural hue
prithee paint me as i am,
imperfections
            and blemishes true

Load thy brush
                      with colors sundry
to maketh yond first pure sweep
across the ****** frieze,
fill'd with pangs of hunger.
paint me as i standeth
                  bethought, in deep

With mine own love and mine own desire,
blurring the edges unclean
with mine own regrets
                  and mine own mental gyre,
in mine own natural age,
               of deep forest green

O Painter
Paint me sinister turquoise,
in lavender and maroon,
combine the amethyst and amber
blend the iceberg
       and the indigo moon.

Paint me as i standeth,
       prithee see with thy eye
a mistress in yond lady plight
Prithee paint me all i am
i cullionly
a mistress in all yond lady might

Paint me in the optimistic
                             silv'r of dawn,
but don’t miss the purple
to shade the bruise
                              of the bygone.
paint me in the sky blue journal

O Painter
Paint me as a unique template
smudge black white and grizzled
merging all the colors of thy palette.
col'r me a rainbow
                            in a rainy drizzle

Paint me tall so yond i standeth
loftier than any mountain
Paint me as a dram bird, delicate
with soft feathers silken

Paint me harmony, as a violin
so yond i can sing thy solitary tune
paint me as thy poetry
         with song and melody
wrapp'd in a cocoon

O Painter
paint me as a dream yond rises
                               in did saturate colors
with a steady upbeat flight awry
tint, a fluttering
             of a quite quaint butterfly

Portray me with endurance
imbue so bold and bright
doth not hesitate
                to depict mine own mind
in profound fuchsia and white.

Useth the colors yond thee would borrow
Thy palette not yet exsufflicate
Paint mine own loss and mine own sorrow
in search of a shade so ******

Adorn mine own heart in glowing garnet
at which hour thee paint mine own love
add a true broken blue shade
of the cloud and the rain above;

Study mine own dry sorrow
                              in mine own soul
useth any shade thee plaited
soften the edges of control
in a tinge of xanthene.

O Painter
Prithee paint me
Mine own passion and mine own spirit
shall has't a crimson r'd hint
mine own remorse and mine own regret
shall reflect an ink stain print

Paint me in mine own eye so true
O Painter
but add a dash of courage too

~
When I paint, I’m never quite satisfied as I see all my mistakes, blemishes and colors not quite right. I tend to keep painting to try and get it all right. At some point, I arrive with the conclusion, if I keep going I’m going to mess it up. I stand across the room and, it’s then that I’m amazed at what I have created. I like to think that I’m seen in the same way by my creator.
RAJ NANDY Jun 2017
Dear Poet Friends, this poem was composed as a tribute and praise
to the Creator of heaven and earth way back in the year 2008, & was posted on ‘Poemhunter.com’. The Creator’s handiwork has inspired Poets, Artists, and Humans alike since the dawn of our
civilisation, and shall continue to do so for our future generations! Hope you like this poetic composition. I will be grateful if you comment only after having read the entire poem.  Thanks, - Raj

VISIONS OF THE VAST BLUE EMPYREAN
                * BY RAJ NANDY*

       '’The heavens declare the glory of the Lord,
        The sky proclaim His divine handiwork!’’
                                                   - Psalm of David.

(I)
The SKY is a multidimensional manifestation of God's
creation,
A translucent blue canopy above all and one.
The sky has inspired humans for centuries to aspire
and dream, -
To seek His blessings and guidance from above;
And shall continue to do so for centuries to come!
The sky beckons and lures with its mystical spell;
Making humans with leaping aspirations to try out
and reach, -
Those frontiers where the sky is the unlimited limit of
all our hopes, aspirations and dreams!
The sky, lush, luring, luminous, and sweet, -
Invites, entice, and fills us with a sense of wonder!
How God-like in appearance, and almost human in
its expressions!
The sky has remained as a silent witness to the birth
of our planet,
Since God created the firmament and the heavens,
before creating the Earth.
The sky, a silent spectator since eons past,
Shall continue to see the fading away of old stars;
And formation of baby galaxies in a cosmic drama of
His creation,
Lying beyond the comprehension of Mankind!
While we try to delve His secrets with our space probes,
Which we can neither fully comprehend nor unravel;
And shall only continue to wonder and marvel!

(II)
The blue sky continues to inspire and even melts,
While its blue translucence silently seep into the
Poet's heart,
As he sits to reflect and shape his thoughts,
And the vast expanse of the ethereal sky,
Stretching his mind with future dreams and
visions!
While the azure blue begins to flow through his
veins, and gets transmitted through his pen, -
To convey his exalted thoughts and deepest feelings,
in poetic lines and verse, -
Which becomes the Poet's sole mission.
And at night when the Poet meditates, he catches a
falling star,
And writes a poem on it and keeps it in his pocket, -
Saving it for a rainy day!
And during the silence of the night, when the hours
grow dark and deep,
And the sky gently droops and drips;
The poet wakes up to write, and writes to sleep!

(III)
The sky flows on to the canvas of the Painter,
As he tries to depict its varied complexions and moods,
With his limited colours, shades and hues,
Flashing and spilling his canvas with touches of tints
and tones,
To captivate the capricious, transient and fanciful moods,
which the sky adorns!
The deep blue empyrean is at times blissful and sublime,
Changing from a radiant, opulent, and iridescent, -
To threatening, cruel, and violent;
Both devastating and destructive as the sweeping
tornado or a hurricane!
Yet when God decides to paint the Aurora Borealis those
magical Northern Lights, -
Those glowing diaphanous curtains of waving, swirling
streamers of lights,
With its red, green, blue, violet, and luminescent spell-
binding shades;
How can any artist foolishly dare to compete or replicate
His celestial art?
For the Auroras are a reflection of His live real time
handiwork, -
Which shall never diminish or fade!

(IV)
The crystal blue arch of heaven, a glorious canopy
cover over our head,
Blesses us with the much needed shade;
From the tormenting and scorching rays of the
relentless Summer's sun.
With its varying layers of passing clouds, -
As the sun completes its diurnal rounds!
Those high cheerful cirrus and cirro-stratus clouds
of the Winter sky,
The meditating alto-cumulus and alto-stratus clouds
of medium heights;
And those upward swelling, ambitious clouds of
cumulonimbus, -
Carrying the thunder bolts and lightning of the great
Zeus do confound us!
And finally those low sheets of stratus clouds of the
rumbling monsoon sky;
Bringing incessant rain and lightning darts, -
Flashing like a whip lash across the sky and the earth!
With the speed of sound always lagging behind that
of light, -
Thus thunder bolts always follow those blinding flashing
darts of dazzling blue lights!
While the good Earth absorbs it all like some suffering
soul,
And forever regenerates itself to transcend its
tormenting plight!

(V)
The clouds floating like fluffy wool of cotton and
the downs of white goose feathers,
Adds dimensions, visual depth, definition and a sense
of perception;
For the human mind to behold and meditate, -
Those vast measureless depths of the infinite space!
The clouds with its varying forms and shapes,
At times like the ice cream cones with vanilla
tops and wisps of cream;
Keep floating across the cerulean blue, forming
and melting, -
From one nothingness into another,  below the
arched vault of the heavens!
And at times the clouds coalesce to dissipate as
gentle rain,
With rhythmic beats, or follow some wild musical note,
Lashing against the earth like a dancer in trance!
While it brings down the cool aqua, the very elixir of
life to earth.

(VI)
The sky is held captive by its own void of eternal
silence.
As nature's mirror, it reflects and also shows us a
glimpse of the infinite!
While the night sky by itself exhibits a wondrous
sight,
With the sentinel stars shining like a living hymn
written in light!
And the ebony treasure vault of heavens hold the
sparkling and glittering countless gems;
Of pearls of lily white, rubies with red sheen,
And galaxies shimmering like hyacinth of purple
light!
The sky envelopes the earth all around in an elusive
embrace of unconsummated love!
But each night, in hope and expectations the Sky
adorns itself, -
With diamond necklace and pearls of milky white,
Woven round its dark black flowing stresses;
Casting longing looks towards the beloved Earth,
To whom she is attracted from her very birth!

(VII)
The sky despite its wide range of colourful
spectrum and moods,
Forever retains its pristine colour of azure blue,
behind its gray and somber clouds.
Each morning the sky presents us with a clean
blue slate,
Where nothing ever remains written or etched!
Inspiring humans to make a new beginning,
Before time runs out and it becomes too late!
Yet the sky never forgets to reflect the arched
rainbow over its brow,
Once the thunder clouds and storms dissipate!
Keeping our hopes and aspirations forever alive;
And impelling us to strive in all our endeavours
and to excel!

(VIII)
The sky remains as a revelation of God's immaculate
handiwork.
The blue welkin, God's treasure trove, with its
capricious moods,
Sometimes furious, sometimes iridescent, but by nature
divinely sublime!
The sky a recurrence of happenings, with its speckled dance, -
Of colours, cadence, and of light and shade,
Giving us a taste, smell and feel of eternity, -
Which appears as real, though illusory and ephemeral!
Transcending all our scientific formulas, speculations
and intricate *******-up logic;
Since many mystical and unknown energy forms exist in
our sky and space,
Beyond the realms of Quantum Physics , String Theory,
the Higgs Field and Relativity!  * ( see Notes below)
And forces can even be made to emanate from the human
mind and soul and to transcend, -
To blend with those vibrations in the celestial spheres of
the Divine!

(IX)
The sky shall forever remain a source of exhilaration
and exhortation for mankind, -
And as an exaltation of God's divine and lofty thoughts!
The sky also remains as our ultimate frontier, -
Stretching the dimensions of human consciousness,
Till our consciousness learns to merge with the Divine;
To become one and to blend, under the blue vault of
our blissful Empyrean!
                                                       -  by RAJ NANDY, NEW DELHI

(*NOTES: The five different versions of the String Theories know as the 'The M- Theory' of Quantum Physics, which tries to explain the origin of all things through the vibrations of nano strings. The latest discovery of the Higgs Field, which is said to add mass to subatomic particles; are our humble and insufficient efforts to understand God’s mysterious creation of the universe and space!)
      (ALL COPY RIGHT ARE WITH THE AUTHOR ONLY)
From the ashes I descend,
Rising among the flames,
As shades of red.
Orange and yellow,
Blend within the explosion,
Of my rebirth,
Claiming my life force once more.

My deep hazel eyes,
Drenched in golden brown,
Surrounded by a burst of jade,
Speckled with dark green,
Reveal my humility,
Compassion and genuine kindness,
Allowing you to behold,
The window to my soul.

The vessel,
Containing my spirit,
Conflicts with the feminine demeanor,
Exposing sincerity,
Comforting hands of a care-giver,
The voice of loyalty,
Gently escaping lips,
Tears of empathy,
Seeping with understanding,
Kisses of affection,
As soft spoken words,
Depict desires,
Hopes and the warmth,
Of pure love.

Mystery envelops my origin,
Becoming a mystical being,
With the ability to heal,
The potential to inspire,
Living proof of an alleged myth,
Yielding in protection,
As my plethora of feathers,
Shield the individuals I adore,
From darkness,
Attempting to swallow the light,
We yearn to discover.

Blind Thoughts of denial,
Shall forsake your eyes,
If you pass judgment,
Upon me,
For my cloak of skin,
Concealing my true beauty.

As a Phoenix,
I refuse to watch,
The children of diversity,
Suffer degradation,
Living in fear of discrimination,
Stifling the right to love another,
To dress in garments,
That correlate the body with the mind.

I shall rage to cease,
The hands of violence leaving bruises,
Ignorance stripping,
Breaths of air from a pair of lungs,
As homophobia,
Transphobia, and intolerance,
Deplete individuality from a heart,
Deserving liberty,
The pursuit of happiness,
A chance to survive.

The Earth returns my soul,
To reap the love,
Concealed in assumptions,
And sow acceptance into,
The fields of society,
As I continue,
To soar into a cerulean sky.
Why is it so difficult to leave my life alone
Cast that last stone
I feel like Frankenstein the monster
And your a mob of angry county officials
Getting high on locking away my roster
Big Man you are with you excess of power
Targeting helpless youth
Who only aim to survive
To escape imprisonment alive
To everyday simply strive
For some acceptance
To be be beat down literally abused by your hand
Because our hunger over took morals
What is right
Is right being cold and hungry every night
Is right being forced into institutions
You've already chosen my life's conclusion
My dreams depict my happy illusion
Our financial status fusion
Causing an eruption of misguided confusion
I'll win this war
When when it seems every battle I'm losing
Elle Jun 2013
Once I saw a beautiful bird
She was one of a kind
And when she flutters, the sun pays attention
As the clouds pay respect.

Her feathers depict unrelenting grace
And one would get lost in her eyes
Other birds pursued her for days
Some would even go for miles.

You'd somehow think she has it all
All except for one
The heart of whom she truly loves
The heart of a human.

Not only forbidden but impossible
This tale tells it all
How can a man hear her heart?
How can he possibly fall?

She looks at him from afar
He doesn't even know
A single tear fell from her eyes
As she wished upon a star.

"I don't even believe that such myths exist,
But perhaps, you'll grant me my wish
Only one and one will do
Make me human so he'll love me, too."

Oh, the poor bird who hoped for much
Who could only do as hope for such
For a dream, a wish that will never come true
Now her wing got hurt as she flew.

Oh, the beautiful bird with a broken wing
She can still fly but never sing
A sweet lullaby of a wish coming true
A lullaby of the only man she loved and will forever do.
This is to anyone out there that's listening
From anyone who ever let you down and went missing
Lovers, parents, best friends, and siblings
Sometimes life conspires to make liars of good men

This is to anyone out there that's listening
From everyone that ever let you down and went missing
Lovers, parents, best friends, and siblings
Sometimes life conspires to make liars of good men

I'm sorry I wasn't who you thought I was
**** it-- I'm sorry I wasn't who I thought I was
I said no matter what, I'd always be there, but that wasn't honest
Because I'm not
And 'cause that ain't how life goes
Broken promise

Growing up, I always thought I was one of the good guys
I thought it was black and white like that
That I could nurture my good side
But I've caused hurt and I've stripped pride
Both on the surface and inside
I wasn't cursed with a dark side, I was just normal
Average, regular, nothing special, I'm telling you
Just being human makes you both God and the Devil's clear replica
I've had my emotions crushed and maybe crushed a few along the way
And at the time, I meant every single word I would say
Every word of love, and every word of hate
Every time I would adore, and every time I'd berate
But time passes, and sometimes those emotions fade
Making liars of both the threats and the promises made

But is a lie really a lie if you mean it at the time?
How can a lie be a lie if you mean it at the time?
A lie can't be a lie if you mean it at the time
How can a lie be a lie if you mean it?

This is to anyone out there that's listening
This is to
This is to anyone out there that's still breathing

I bought a heartbreak hotel
On my own, with no investors
Closed it down and opened the "*******, get over it" bed and breakfast
In loving memory of having loving memories
Of combustible emotions, and having real enemies

Typically poetically dramatic endings
Were once a trademark of mine
Patents pending
And the mighty height of emotions on parting ways
Was always grander than the connections of the early days

When we were fighting, there used to be thunder and lightning
Ferociously frightening, a clash of the titans
Emotions heightened, every single muscle tightened
An addiction to the thrill of the fight, the excitement

Love at first sight always seemed unconsidered
I'd rather love at first fight, and then onto double figures
An unconditional love? Well, that just means nothing
In love with the mere idea of loving something

Always just hunting for that near-life experience
In fear of missing something vital from your own existence
All your emotions subconsciously thought out and scripted
Less about how you're feeling
More about how you ******* depict it

But all that stops when one day you just decide to stop playing along
That point in time when the most amazing things in the world can just as easily seem
Pedestrian

You've lost both that loving and that loathing feeling
Turns out, hell does have a bottom
And heaven, a ceiling
Both love and hate become opaque in time's wake
A face that once summons rage now summons nothing
Whether it's emotions tethered, nerve endings severed
Or just the outlook you acquire when you're a little more weathered
Remaining conscious of this all, and in a way, feeling above it
Still feels like bad riddance to good *******

But is a lie really a lie if you mean it at the time?
How can a lie be a lie if you mean it?
By scroobius Pip
Karijinbba Nov 2018
My old true love rdd=PC
wrote this poem to me on HP.
~~~~~
"I fall in love."
"Death would be liberating
but I wouldn't suggest jumping off a cliff"
                                               NO
"And for the life of me I hold on
to shaddy realities,
and an odd feeling of never being enough."

"I don't know what will happen"

IT IS ALL OUT OF MY HANDS

IT'S ALL OUT OF TIME"
~~~~
( my spontaniety of first thought)
my response 2018 is:

I fall in love too I choose life.
dearest true love of yore
from your holy hands
your love unto my heart falls
joining my spirit soul
precious twin flame
and here with me  love won't die

nor can unconditional love
into my hands ever perish

true love needs not be liberated
as no TREASON ever existed
you just got me ALL WRONG!

And since when orphanes
in protective custody hiding for their life after Feds and murderers buchered her family and loved ones in childhood

and throughout adolecence years  a faulty weak covert adoption witness protection program forcing victim to live as an exiled fugitive??
due to a horrendous loss of life

You simply didn't know me
for the task you and your brother assigned to me dearest ones
and isn't it treason on your part to abandon an amnesic loved one
only because it wasn't written in an old script?
some lovers being in love
feeling betrayed and hurting
do jump off a cliff
like you did It hurts do much to understand your pain physical and mental too
Still others jump into amnesic shocks becoming like I did
DEATH CALM! its very painful
i had no shell shick therapyst no councellings just hell left behind
I don't recomment either one
ways to hurt for living one another presence was needed!

both ways of hsndling pain
are equally distructive unfruitful look at me now!
you have support family bank
structure how do I win from here  I healed living in denial.
my ignorsnt ways ended in heartbreaking tragedy more for me than for you
You were my hero my knight
I loved you always will i was in love with you I hurt too
We were so identical twin flames from the inside thinking modes
both feeling so small
and never enough for each other!
because we were apart!
And both so brightly colored in the outside with Gs light
very rare occurance
a triumph for the finding
worth the fame intended
worth the pain of defeat endured
for the best can only be bought at the cost of great pain and sacrifice!!
my pain went to sleep in an amnesic transformative shock
I have always loved you
and as you see I did jump!
Right into 'death' and 'knife'
i transformed to survive
Read my birth chart both Death and Knife remain a blessing and a curse to me such mystery
but both protecting me just the same!
two protective mechanisms
per the Mayan calendar.
such a mystery we both are.
Death saving me from 'death'
and knife'cutting' through my pain a cold ice blade
there transforming me
Death Calm and silent!
I am not insensitive I feel love
death needs not be liberating
my soul knowing true love
will rest in peace with some regrets
I promised our unborn childten that no love fame nor great fortune would be greater then the love I feel for them all
and I kept my painful promise
but it was the end of me
In your eyes
I must have shrank smallest yet
misunderstood I go unless you read me here on HP the final fronteer unless you read
my memoir but we are both running out of time
lovers die in more ways than jumping off cliffs

precious love thank you for loving me
it hurt me very deeply to let you go so long ago
I am the woman who loves you the most in this whole wide world
I could have given my life for just one day though to have understood you grabbed you!
to have known what to do
what not to do,
where to go, where not to go,
what to say, what not to say.
what to think and what not to think!
i didn't understand you!
so I feared you
I couldn't fight every greedy jealous woman for your love as the left behind gap how?
forgive me please beloved
I felt too small and worthless

I had no idea anyone on earth would love me too back!
much less enough as to jump of a cliff to hurt that much for my life to benefit as new Eve
even changing earth with you
a worlds new adam Back then

I sincerely did not understand what you had planed to do after my impatient ignorant fall

Life had only taught me
to feel insignificantly tini especially when being taunted
mistreated and challenged
abandonement syndrome
was my demise dince childhood
your mind games and head riddles smothered my dreams
of you me for us.

loving you more than
I loved myself was understood
very well that's what life
had taught me to do
to let go of everything I ever loved the most
when all life did was take chunks of my family and my life.
You were life's reward to me
without you by my side
I became speechless Dead Calm
stump like on Mothers day.

'sorry' can't depict the black hole
that has swallowed you
and me apart
nor pain depict the bottomless pit that living without you is

I too fell into my death
heartbroken as you announced
a JaneHilton freeway driving
in oposite directions was agony when in your letter
you wrote you had a wife!

I fell into the abyss and I died
I was only nineteen then

Then came hell getting me stranded at the fork road
all the way to hell Greece

smily kind penpal demons helped me up a plane ticket

two in all even married me not to avert authorities of my impending death with their treacherous agendas
IT WAS ALL STAGED
as was much of my life on earth.

I am glad we met
glad we loved each other
near or far
in G
s hands we both are.
~~~
By:Karijinbba-Copy Rights
2017 revised 03/ 29/2020.
excerpt from my Memoar written throughout my life.
Desmond the poet Sep 2017
by Desmond Makatu,

Your visits are unpredictable.
like a ghost, you're invisible.
The attacks are inevitable.
You come like a thief at night.
You seize me day and night.

"Epilepsy: an inevitable thief"

Cruelty unrestricted to age.
Victimising even toddlers.
Unrestricted to ethnic groups.
My life has time gaps.
Gaps, like discrete graphs.
Cracks depict thin line between life and death.
Grace bridges the gaps and life prevails over death.
Seizures still haunt me like a demonic wrath.

"Epilepsy: an inevitable thief"

Attacks are brief, bruises lasts forever.
You offer questions only God can answer.
Quest for answers is like probing for cure of Cancer.
Death seemed to be the answer but God thought otherwise.

First seizure shook like multiple earthquakes.
Followed by a pool of darkness.
woke up confused, crowd's ****** expressions said a thousand words.
Migraines raided my head, exposed to enormous pressure.
Officially baptised by wrath of seizures.

"Epilepsy: an inevitable thief"

You're a physical and psychological culprit.
Like a Yoyo, you take me into a roller-coaster of emotions.
Aftermaths of your theft are etched in my mind as if they’re on stones.
Behind my “poker face” lies devastating pains than physicals seen by the  crowd.

"Epilepsy: an inevitable thief"

Watch video on YouTube. https://youtu.be/VggXerYLOHY
Being epileptic for, I thought I should express how I feel about the condition.
Johnny Noiπ Sep 2018
Ancient Greece; Greek: Ελλάς, translit. Ellas; was a civilization belonging to a period of Greek history from the Greek Dark Ages of the 12th–9th centuries BC to the end of antiquity (c. AD 600).
Immediately following this period began
          the Early Middle Ages & the Byzantine era;
Roughly three centuries after the Late Bronze Age
collapse of Mycenaean Greece,              Greek urban poleis began
to form in the 8th century BC,        ushering in the Archaic period
& colonization of the Mediterranean Basin.
                     This was followed by            |          Classical Greece;
an era that began w/ the Greco-Persian Wars, lasting
from the 5th to 4th centuries BC.                   Due to the conquests
by Alexander the Great of Macedonia,                    Hellenistic
civilization flourished from Central Asia to the western end
of the Mediterranean Sea; The Hellenistic period coming to an end
w/ the conquests & annexations of the eastern
          Mediterranean by the Roman Republic,
                  first          establishing the Roman province of Macedonia
in Roman Greece, & the later province of Achaea during the Roman Empire;                              Hell, in many religious & folkloric traditions,
is a place of torment & punishment in the afterlife;
                         Religions w/ a linear divine history
                   often depict several hell[s] as eternal resort-like destinations
         analogous
             to exile
         while religions w/ a cyclic history often depict hell
                    as an intermediary layover between fantastical incarnations;
        Typically these traditions locate hell in one or another
                    dimension, or even under the Earth's surface &
often include entrances & exits to & from Hell from the land of the living sky above [many mortal men are known to have traveled to the underworld or consorted w/ devils & demons so-called: Orpheus, Jesus, Faust, Robert Johnson & Aleister Crowley:               Other afterlife destinations include
Heaven, Purgatory, Paradise, & Limbo;
Other traditions,     which do not conceive of the afterlife
as a place of punishment or reward, merely describe Hell
as an abode of the dead, the grave, a neutral place
located under the surface of Earth, for example Sheol & Hades [my old, old neighborhood]; In Greek mythology, Helen of Troy; Greek: Ἑλένη, Helénē, pronounced [helénɛː],               also known as Helen of Sparta,
or simply Helen,                       was said to have been
                                          the most beautiful woman in the world,
who was married to King Menelaus of Sparta,
but was abducted by Prince,       Paris of Troy,    resulting in the Trojan War
  when the Achaeans set out to reclaim her & bring her back to Sparta;
                She was believed to have been the daughter of Zeus & Leda,
     & was the sister of Clytemnestra, Castor and Polydeuces;
Leda & the Swan is a luridly pornographic story involving *******
                   & rarely depicted artistic subject from Greek mythology
in which the god Zeus, in the form of a swan, seduces Leda;   Leda thus bearing Helen & Polydeuces, enchanted godling offspring of Zeus
[thus
                                     Helen was a demigod
              like Orpheus, Heracles, Achilles & Dionysus, fulfilling the rank &
                                    status  of the Biblical Nephilim  /ˈnɛfɪˌlɪm/ (Hebrew: נְפִילִים‬, nefilim) the offspring
of the "sons of God" & the "daughters of men"                before the Deluge, according to Genesis 6:1–4:
A similar or identical biblical Hebrew term,
read as "Nephilim" by some scholars, or as the word "fallen"
                                                         appears in Ezekiel 32:27:
                      When people began to multiply from the face of the ground,
                      rolled into shape & being by the first insects,
     an army of scarabs doing
     clean-up after creation                                 before the invention of ants
                                   to maintain order on the most basic level of newly mined nature & once the creatures made of dung molded in the moist crevices of the earth into the shape best suited to them
      copying the mandrake so to claw their way out of the soupy ionized  
                                                       ­     electrified    mud;
some w/ female bits formed by hatchling sea anemone,
jellyfish & globular secreting sacks,            while some only a stick &
             two rocks hanging in a thin leathery pouch, looking like eggs,
             but Surprise!    [men continuing to be surprised to this day]
                          growing upright & naked,
               sloughing of their insect overlords while taking up insects ways of farming & irrigation,  taking hundreds of centuries
to build the towering hives of their ancestral youth
when the ants & bees & lone beetles taught them how,        the squadrons of
                 butterflies never shared their ability to transform from
                    a segmented crawling garden slug
                  to the highest form of flying insect               regaled majestically
in
the            colorful royal emblems of their tribes]
        & daughters were born to them, the Sons of God seeing that they were fair & took wives for themselves of all that they chose;
Then the Lord said, "My spirit shall not abide in mortals forever,
for they are flesh; their days shall be one hundred twenty years."
The Nephilim were on the earth in those days—& also afterward—
when the sons of God went in to the daughters of humans,
who bore children to them; These were the heroes that were of old,
                                              warriors of renown.
— Genesis 6:1–4,        [New Revised Standard Version]
The word is loosely translated as giants in some Bibles
& left noticably untranslated in others; The "Sons of God" interpreted
      to be fallen angels according to some classical Judaic explanations;
                      while at the same time Leda bore Castor & Clytemnestra,
      children of her mortal husband Tyndareus,                            
                                            the King of Sparta;
                       The Judgement of Paris the event that led to the
        Trojan War, & in slightly later versions to the founding of Rome
Wick Jul 2018
having you stuck on my mind
is an understatement
in every crack and crevices I find
you there, always present

you permeate in every thought
like literally in all that I think
threatening to fill my mind
so I incarnate you through ink

writing poems during library
when I should be philosophizing Saussure
but don't worry I can cope
I can handle this, be sure

I've drawn you in pencil
heck, even in paint
but alas, my skills are not enough
to depict the beauty you contain

but don't think you're a distraction
you're more of a motivation
like serene blue skies to a young bird's eyes
you are what inspires me to greater motions

oh girl,
I'm chest deep in thoughts of you
but tell me, my love
do you think of me too?
I am spellbound.
TheDaisyDancer Jun 2015
The shoes were red,
and stood at 7 inches high,
perfect to look sophisticated,
and to feel like she was touching the sky.

Everyone criticized her,
because they thought she wore them to get attention,
and co-workers would confront her,
to give her a ***** mention.

Only the people don't understand,
because she feels self conscious of her height,
and the heels are the only opportunity,
to make her feel alright.

              . . .

The shoes were brown,
covered with mud and dirt,
shoe laces tangled in a mess,
and didn't have any way to avert.

People overlooked him,
when he wanted something,
because they thought he didn't care,
but who are they to be judging!

The truth is,
in fact he did care,
but didn't have enough money,
to buy nice shoes to wear.

             . . .

The shoes were neon,
like the color of the sun,
they had bright shoes laces,
that he wears when he runs.

People thought they were ugly,
because they were off brand,
and they lacked the character,
that all the cool shoes had.

But really he was trying,
to just fit in,
but they would reject him,
every time he begins.

              . . .

Be kind,
for everyone is fighting a conflict,
that you know nothing about,
so don't judge nor depict.
This poem is based off  the book, "To **** a mockingbird" by Harper Lee. "You never really understand a person until you consider things from his point of view . . . until you climb into his skin and walk around in it."- Atticus Finch. Thank you!
Is it really this hard
to find people I can go back and forth in discussion with
about Buddhist and Hindu theology compared and contrasted against Christian and Yoruba

I want to scream and shout and dance with somebody over Janet Jackson's new album
and at the same time
feel the heat and talk with somebody about how extremely sad and depressing
but oh so good Giovanni's Room was

I want to be able to speak with somebody whom can quote Malcolm X and Kafka in the same breath

Somebody who could see the logic of Pac and Immortal Technique on the same piece
with the Budos Band or Mulatu on the back track

I want to know people whom know
just exactly who
Suki Lee and Bayard Rustin are

can we talk about Jacob Kinohoor's ***
at least for a moment
then get into some B.B. King or Johnny Cash

have you seen Dune
the one from the eighties
James McAvoy shirtless
as well as John Goodman’s acting
were only good things about the other
if you read it
even better

what about the ***** that sat by the door
Or
killer clowns from outer space

let's be shady and point out all the inaccuracies on the history and discovery and channels
praying for that day
that's not in February
They show Shaka Zulu in full
without commercial interruption

Or maybe a documentary about native American people
with actual native actors
that do not depict them all as either
plains people
Or Inuit
Cause you already know
not everybody is Eskimo

then let's put on our own private production of legally blonde
followed by encore presentations of the classic scene
Of Miss Celie and miss Ofelia going in over Harpo

can I discuss with you
how the Patriot act nullifies everything in constitution
And the bill of rights
even though they never were intended to be permanent any way

It would be nice to not have to explain a Corporatocracy

all my life Ive been into Egyptology
You do know that Imhotep was the actual founder of medicine
by a good 2000 years
not that Hippocrat

the thing is
I'm still learning

when attempt to delve that deeply into people
which I don't even consider that deep
They often misunderstand
They often concluded without thinking

maybe
just maybe

©Christopher F. Brown 2015
Dazed Dreaming Oct 2018
I thought of you today...
****...
It’s been at least a year...

Thanks to Halsey...
But I can’t complain..
Music is beautiful that way..

In the sense where a song can be so beautifully written, with lyrics that depict all the things you experienced, and especially all that you wanted to say but couldn’t.

****...
(I hold back a laugh...)
This is kind of painful...
I shake you off.
My heart only associates you with pain.
I won’t let myself go back there.
But I can’t deny these lyrics.....
Because they were our story for the longest time...


I am speechless because I never expected a song to pull that ******* the heart strings of my past.
Every single word of Halsey new song without you was the same experience I had with my ex husband.. I had always looked for a song I could relate to when I divorced him and never found anything that hit my heart as hard as this song did...
Thank you Halsey!
Brett Jul 2021
The wick is fading, and I have no matches left
In this dark abyss where I sit depressed
My valiant heart has become a perch for crows
Smile shaped in stone
Each embrace stiff and cold from my marbled soul
My arms depict a grasping hand
Reaching for a world these etched eyes will never know
Trapped in the heart of a withered artist
His mad dealings mold and make me
A victim of his musings
Crafted in a candlelit madness
Delicate delusions and vague allusions
To courage in the many veiled faces of death
Carved and set at the base of the steps
Statuesque
Days pass, my love, and I'm afraid of t'ese feelings,
Which at first startled and surprised me,
Solidified but threatened me,
Hastened my heartbeat-and lingered stubbornly, at my wit.

I was treading down in my stilettos;
And all, today, had been silent hitherto-
Whenst I but caught about thee;
More charming than the breezy day itself, and more free.

Ah, thee! How I longest to silence thee forever,
Thee to whom delights my shelter;
Thee to whom every lie shalt be truth,
and to whom all dreary ages shalt be youth.

How I longest to ****** thee;
to strangle and behead thee,
so that thou shalt no more haunt me-
just like these feelings that twitch, and dazzle me-
forever and ever; like a bewitching, yet sadistic misery.

Shalt I hate them, my love?
Shalt I depict but mock all them?
Ah, tease me-o, tease me, my love!
Catch me about those rippling grass,
Which like a bucket of green water,
Bloom and flirt with the startled bush in mass,
before autumn greets, and their brightness shalt alter.

Alter to falseness, and die in paleness;
Before they scramble up again in vain,
And retreat to my dreams like a dizzy villain;
In a wail of discord, and its lake of cold madness.

Ah! They hate me! And whenst thou seest not,
They seethe at me, they floweth in my brain;
they corrupt me vilely, and ruineth my restraint;
And my loving heart shalt they never defend,
for instead of hate, they grant it love;
and tempt it to kiss-t'is tiny heirloom of mine-
of thy picture, all repeatedly; over and over again.

Ah, thee, to whom my heart shalt only be a burden;
to whom the bleakest of winds only bounces, and goes;
to whom that this earth seems to have no throes-
Just like all those ****** birds who chirp about in yon garden.

Oh, thee, who looketh pristine in whichever garment,
and looketh still a darling atop whatever mute soil,
but safely comeliest amongst t'is Thursday night's infallible moonlight;
and altogether stirring to every glance-whilst inviting to each lurking sight.

Ah, thee, whose heart still, that lucky lady possesses,
and whose smiles she salutes and gladly welcomes;
I wonder whether thou shalt ever know how my heart is obsessed-
and that how thy love for her is my karma, my devil,
and the most undesirable-yet resentful, total sham!
Oh, for the gracious is ungracious indeed, in her eyes,
and peace is but to her a mere tempest of fights;
for to her, immortal are her shallow rights,
And eternal are her breaths, and thus, her tidiest lies.
I hope she shalt be soon swallowed into this earth,
and bludgeoned to death, within its eternal, whining hearth.
She shalt be sent to Hell, for all her discordant sins,
poor creature, as poor she was, whenst alive-to her kin.
But still poorer, poorer me who adoreth thee like this,
Who forever longs to taste thy sweet breaths-and kisses,
I am like an infant who seeks to walk and drink of the stars;
Without knowing the sky is indeed boundless, and strenuously far.
I am who never grows, but stupidly screams, and urges for the most
I, myself, who shall always be strangely desolate, and lost.
Ah, t'is poor self of mine! For canst I only dreamest, and seekest, and whine
Whilst her hair is in thy arms, smelling like sweet-and dreamless sleep,
Buried deep in thy charms, with her heart engaged in thine,
And unawakened by the night, as to one delight so deep.
I am envious, envious, envious-and for thy know, t'is envy is perilous,
and should I die, my spirit wouldst remain awake, and forever curious.
I shalt be wand'ring voicelessly like a fishy ghost,
Be unseen foliage in autumn, and be winter's plodded frost,
I shalt be confined in my own confinement,
and flustered away, in my own unblessed, refinement.

Yet still, nothing is more stately than my feelings;
and this picture of thee-ah, as always, solemn and so honoured in my arms.
Ah, thee, let me invite thee here-and show thee how tears are in fact, the truest charms;
and how pains are undeniably our breath-though faked, and dried away-
by unceremonious adoration and hate-
but still alive like we are, among th' very livings.

Ah, and so my feelings are dangerous-
for they have no soul; are bound not by wings.
As thou smileth to me-they smile not, but groweth serious-
and their seriousness, in return, bringst not one single uttering.
My thee, my thee, but if thou art not my fate,
how couldst I call thee always, my salvation?
In my heart thou art not merely my mate;
thou art worth all my warmth, regrets, and thus holiest temptation.
How am I to procure advancements, my sweet lad-
Should we hath been 'lone, had we never met?

With thee I hath been in love,
and for whom my feelings are tough.
Still I believe loyalty is in thee,
and honour in me-is whenst I loveth thee only.
My thee!
O-my thee, by whom these long-living trepidations
shalt no more be meaningful,
as how all other's admirations
shalt become unfelt, and sorrowful.

Feelings, feelings, o my incarcerated feelings
My tears are thy soul; that shape and form thy whole
To live and love whilst these flames are strong,
to whose lips only, I am insane-but clearly belong.
I wander.
Endlessly, I wander.
Ceaselessly, I walk.
Forever more, I go on.
How many ways can I depict my unrest to you?

Footprints are the timeline of my life.
Where I’ve been, the mistakes and wrong turns I’ve made.
The people who have walked in.
The people who have walked out.
They are etched in the ground, broken in by my feet.

Every so often, a second set of footprints joins mine.
Some go on for months, years.
Those are my favorites.
But they never really last.

Most dip in and out of my path.
Some lead me in circles until I have to leave them behind.
You never know what steps are the right ones
Until you’re looking back at them, behind you.

I wander.
I search.
I trust.
And then, I hurt.

Of these steps I am sometimes wary,
But the set of prints next to mine makes me sure footed, now.
I squint to look ahead, but my vision is terrible.
I can’t be sure, but it seems that there are many sets of prints ahead.

Strong, deep, sure-footed paths are carved out in the future.
Please, take me there.
Please, do not lead me astray.
I don’t want to have look back to judge the way you stroll by my side.

Do not waiver now; I haven’t got time for circles any longer.
Liz Apr 2014
My eyes search
the navy air
but are unable to
depict the
soft features of the rabbits
loping tentatively
through patchy glebe.

I wish it was spring with
bright white fruits.
Just ripe.
Not summer, because 
in the summer we cloy 
under the fat cream trees.

I want to see you,
and the wild hares,
but the twilight's 
hiding 
its secrets from us.
Went on an evening walk yesterday in the evening and there were lots of rabbits but it was too dark to see them properly! It inspired this.
Sarah Mann Mar 2018
This morning I woke up before 6am.
Too early for most people, myself included.
My brain was running wild last night.
I laid restless in my bed for what seemed like hours.
I tossed and turned and my thoughts were overrun with nightmares and horrors.
Turmoil took over my mind and stressed my heart out. I simply couldn’t sleep.
I took deep breaths, I counted sheep, I even drank a cup of tea.

Nothing worked. So, I continued to lay there too tired to move, far too awake to fall asleep.
Such a terrible state, caught in between two extremes each one refusing to give in.
Life had exhausted me and yet I still wasn’t allowed sleep.
I felt trapped, I felt powerless, I was defeated.
Somehow amidst my worrying, I had drifted off into slumber.
And that leads us to this morning.
This morning I woke up before 6am. Groggy, vision foggy, and most of all still tired.
I mean, could you blame me? I had gotten barely more than half
of the prescribed amount of sleep for someone my age.
I packed a bag for the adventures of the day, which for me meant about 30 pounds of textbooks.
I made a list of the work that still needed to be done.
Another list for how many minutes I had before the sun.
One by one, we loaded into the car, like soldiers preparing for war.
In some ways, we were readying our armor, but ours was metaphorical rather than literal.

My dad is always the first to the car. He likes to get ahead of the current.
My sister is second, she’s grumpy and doesn’t understand what’s going on.
Then myself, I’m tired but still excited for what’s to come.
We drive through the sleepy city, everyone’s preparing for their own day.
The sun itself has just risen and we watch the world awaken.
We have arrived, and it’s about 6:30AM.
You guessed it. It’s time for breakfast.

Scientifically speaking, breakfast is the most important meal of the day.
Personally speaking, nothing chooses the course of the day more than that first meal.
A cold unforgiving bowl of cereal doesn’t bring me happiness,
Like a warm bowl of fried rice does or like scrambled eggs with just a hint of cheese does.
Perhaps I am looking too far into the way certain breakfast foods makes me feel.
Regardless, we walk in and the environment shift affects all of our moods.

We made it to the front of the line and we order.
For my dad, eggs, bacon, and link sausage, a trio.
For my sister, in a state of dazed, orders the same.
For myself, the only one with originality deliberately chooses blueberry pancakes.
The warmth and comfort found in hot chocolate is exactly what I need right now.
So I order that too.
Sleepy and unaware, we trudge back to a table as a unit.
Our table is split between booth and chair and it’s located next to the window.
There is something poetic about the scene.
Maybe it’s the early light breaking through the glass.
Or maybe it’s rarity of the event, we usually eat breakfast at home.
This is a special occasion not for any reason other than it’s happened.
Moments of solemnity are interrupted by our waitress who brings a new day.
Found piled on top of flimsy paper plates is a sight of pure beauty.
Maybe it’s the lack of sleep, people tend to experience life more deliriously during this time.
But the food looks incredible. The pancakes are lightly coated with powdered sugar and
look like they had been pulled out of a magazine cover, as does the rest of the food.
My father and sister’s moods are lightened as food typically has that effect.
The hot chocolate is topped with whip cream and sprinkles something that I didn’t ask for and yet I’m endlessly grateful.
They bring a previously unexamined aspect of happiness to this already novelty of an outing.
Once the food arrives, I halt the instincts of everyone by forcing them to capture the moment.
I enjoy pictures because they are snapshots of reality, that can depict whatever you want.
They take time and turn it into moments, something truly innovative.
After the pictures, we eat, we make small conversation,
And most of all we enjoy each other’s company.
It’s similar to the breakfasts you often see out of movies, families living that idyllic lifestyle.

This morning I woke up before 6am
And only got 4 hours of sleep.
But despite all odds, this was a good morning.
Now I’m not sure if this change in mood is attributed solely to breakfast
Or other unmentioned factors but I do know this.
Physically, I feel tired.
Mentally, I feel better than I have in a while.
Perhaps, I can even persevere through the day.
I guess that’s just the power of blueberry pancakes.
2:33PM Wednesday, September 27, 2017
Christina Cox Jan 2016
I've always been confused
by media's personifications of Life.

A beautiful woman
                          whose skin is flawless
                          whose face is symmetric
                          who has no faults


She, Life, is perfect and clean.

How life truly is not

A depiction of Life I give you now,
one not so perfect as She before.

                                           Skin and features of many
                                           taking in the best and worst.
                                                    A being who is strong and weak
                                                    visibly ill while being well.
                                A being who is beautiful in it's -u-g-l-i-n-e-s-s-
                                or rather,
                                a being who is beautiful in it's uniqueness.
                                      
A being who is not perfect,
but strives to be.
A being who is not commonly pretty,
but true to the mixture of
                                 Pain and Sorrow
with
                                 Ease and Joy.

Now I am sure you depict
Life a different way.
But how truthful all these depictions are

for life is different to everyone.
BLVNK Oct 2013
From wars erupting earths core,
we've settled a score only for the heavens and hell to see.
We smother the stench of temptations with potpourri,
only to deceive others stimulating parts of a brain.
Still pardon my slang
Are we using something to rearrange a type of mental suicide arranged,
in order to display portraits of lucid terror?,
Throwing smoke bombs to keep a little order
but even so that's just keeping us ***** for more slaughter.
Like roaches and raid a single spray will cause fragment mutations
a zombie faze shot with steroids and black plagues, just a graze to depict nations,
human infested sanitation able to retaliate government abomination.
A conversation my mind read by Pagans
walking through hallways,
a million rooms perfume and a two headed waitress,
mind binding views,
imitations, crosses, limitations,
serpents, pulpits, fuels lit and shattered creations.
dania Aug 2018
did it work?
I give a useless tug on my skin, done to reassure me
instead it reaffirms to me:

I am, again, inconsolable.

is the mask I wear today sealed on tight? too tight?
does it hurt to pretend so much?

does it seem clear to anyone else that there are loose ends I've yet to tend to? backdoors I've overlooked?
transparencies?    can they see through me?

I bare my teeth. canines, canines from the days of carnivores.
am I that carnivore? in my genes I am.

and in practice?

inconsolable, uncontrollable
barely a threat in her form.

this question comes to me under many guises:
an old man asking me: are you that of practice or are you that of genes?
a professor lecturing: are you that of cultivated identity or that of inherited form?

my concerned friends crying:
who are you?
is your mask anything like you?

and then i wake.
it's a terror turned nightly chorus.
recurring nightmares, doctors offer.

i admit i know the content of my dreams to be unfounded:
in life there are no physical masks that do the jobs my terrors depict.
no veil to hide the contours of each flawed personality, no mask to others, just me, weeping-in-the-bathroom, never-myself me

and those attempted favours to be like one another
i'll be like you so you'll like me
i'll like you because i'm like you

so the body charges on in this society like a mirror
cross your left leg when she crosses her right, fold your arms when she's folded hers, raise your hand to say hello, raise your hand to say goodbye

a kiss on the right cheek, a kiss on the left, one more on the left
this is how you show love and a greeting all at once

fold your arms over each other, this is sympathy, this is greeting, do you take comfort in this too?

so you learn to speak with your arms, and you learn to speak with your legs, and you learn to speak with your face, and you learn to speak with your head.

soon your eyes are apprentices of acquaintances, learning to borrow looks like library books, take on others' stories like they've read them end to end.

so in the middle of this process you learn to effectively say:
i see you, i hear you, i perceive you.

and in these attempted favours, at the end of your night terrors, is the parrot that they want to see. the parrot that you argue, can't really be me.



Your pearls & diamonds
Would transcend into tears

One needs to kneel down
In front of BELOVEDz
But it is important
To surrender at the feet

There is no need to
Utter a single word there
Your coming to the
Threshold of BELOVEDz heart
Is more than enough
To be blessed with LOVE


That is why...
Everyone comes with a prayer
Everyone comes with
their wishes and desires
But I have come with
my LOVE at your doorstep
I have come with a
Broken heart in my begging bowl

Look at me, look into me
This heart carries within
And displays to the world
All the good glories
Of your DIVINE LOVE

I've searched for you everywhere
With a broken heart of mine
I've wandered everywhere
With melancholic memories of your LOVE

When I am without YOU
My fate isn't working for me
Now how can anything change
The destiny of my life?

Only thing that exists here is sadness
Every moment I live,
Every moment I am alive
It tears my heart into
Small shards and pieces

I can not even talk about
Your divinity to anyone
My tears and sorrows too can't
Depict the story of our LOVE

Only if I am able to see you again
I will be born again to live again

Oh.. Zuliet, Oh.. Layla -
I've come at your doorstep
With the divine LOVE of
Romeo and Majnun


That is why...
Everyone comes with a prayer
Everyone comes with
their wishes and desires
But I have come with
my LOVE at your doorstep
I have come with a
Broken heart in my begging bowl

The arrows of your blessings of LOVE
The arrows of your hopes in LOVE
Can never miss its target - my heart
The God/dess - the Nature - The Karma
Can never NOT oblige to a LOVERz plea

Just keep faith in LOVE
Believe and trust in LOVE
Everything will be fine in LOVE
Even if you can't utter a word
Serve your heart in a begging bowl
And surrender it at your
BELOVEDz feet in LOVE

Just remove this veil of
Doubt from your heart
Then you'll see your LOVE
In front of YOU
And you'll also see
my LOVE in front of YOU

Nor you have to present
A bouquet of flowers
Nor you have to bring any other gifts
Oh my LOVERz... Oh my BELOVEDz
Just bring your broken-heart
And kiss the feet of BELOVEDz


That is why...
Everyone comes with a prayer
Everyone comes with
their wishes and desires
But I have come with
my LOVE at your doorstep
I have come with a
Broken heart in my begging bowl

Look at me, look into me
This heart carries within
And displays to the world
All the good glories
Of your DIVINE LOVE





Theia Gwen Feb 2014
To be loved by a writer
Is to be immortalized
You will live on forever in her writing
Your quirks,
Your ideas,
Your insecurities,
Writers notice everything
And we never forget
You might catch her smiling at you
For what seems like no reason at all
But she's just trying to describe
The exact color of your eyes

To be loved by a writer
Is to have your entire relationship in written word
All you have to do is read and re-live everything again
Your first kiss,
Your first fight,
Your first date
Nostalgic memories in chronological order
And you may even learn something you never knew
Since everything will be in her point of view

To be loved by a writer
Is to see her frustration
Because she wishes she could be an artist
Since no words serve you justice
She wishes she could just paint a picture
And then they would understand
Because no amount of words could perfectly depict
Your hair sticking up,
Your abundance of freckles,
You wearing glasses
She gets upset when she thinks
She'll never fully portray all the things you say and do
But she'll never run out of ways to say "I love you"

To be loved by a writer
Is to be eternal
And to never fully disappear
And no matter what, she'll see you everywhere
Even when she opens her mind and escapes reality
Because she is the writer
And you are her writing
For you own her heart
From which her words flow
I'll probably edit this one later. I was inspired by 'A Dedication' by Lang Leav. Also inspired by my Nicholas, who indeed, looks very dashing in glasses.
A little thing called *****, its just like when you get a text and your fingers play a sensual melody on the keys.
Notice I use the word sensual to depict the image of the man being the fingers and the woman being the keys, with that touch she loves so much...she may not know if it's love our lust.
At first she may have been confused...but didn't resist to remove her clothes and shoes, way after it will turn out into a story of pleasure and laughter.
This thing called *** is not for kids, it might start off with a kiss , then a poke some months later she tells you she has your child you thought was a joke.
Kara Jean May 2016
A calamity of views abused
When the alcohol is strong
The choices go wrong
Everyones offend through Misinterpreted temptation
Using my over analyzing brain to calm the degraded
Crying over a mundane sane
Looking for persuasion
Through persecution
Picking out your weaknesses
Bleakness, is a majestic trait
Not intentionally
Burdening their agony
My name is animosity
I depict a character that sympathizes
Your alibies
Using my vulnerability
Contaminated humility
Finding
The hiding
No problem suggesting
My dark secrets of the night
Applying my skits that fit right
Paranoid to be viewed in a mortifying light
I would be lying denying my animalistic ride
I have scrutinized
Remorsing
I see earth born
Godly you stand
In the morning
Behold deformities
You fit the norm
I bow to your Godly proportion
In vein this I pray
Amen

— The End —