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sin
My hero's weathered
forehead
My inflictions
stress  of
wrinkly skin
but the focus
is replaced pain
to  numb-ness
of his eyes.
Whistling of whispers
flowing
white of ancient
hair,
memories  like long
forgotten fleets
I come to realize,
Pride replaced
by shame,
and which is
the greater sin?
Who am I?
or I that became.....
salma 5d
Wasting time, thinking you do the same
Eating the crumps of the unfinished feelings you gave
Am I even a piece of your life to complain?
Or just a place you vent to dump all your shame?

I do know that to you, I was just a name
Searched for me only to lock me in your lonely cave
And after all that, you'd still think you're brave
But you'll always stay the same
Nothingness, a cracking soul that's lame
Being shamed
at having lived, survivor who hid,

ducked and covered, and lived, since

from when America
was a Grand Old Party, all righteous
free whites from foreign tyranny refuging

Come ye, to where the railroad grew,
straight across the Hunkpapa Lakota
happy hunting grounds
taken as
homeland
after the horses came
where

before the Methodists
Free Soil, and the making
of good Indians,
and relatively rapid fire ballistic devices
witty inventions circumventing careful aim
tedious patience selecting chosen heads
to remove from the great game,
played with boys
called young men, sent west, believe-ing,
we can take the land,
we can build a castle,
we can build a city and buy and sell
and get great gain, a city on a hill,
famed for sharing bombs, with
peoples of the book,

as sure as-
as sure as-

certain murders are not called ******,
American tradition holds tyranny,
under the banner
of land owners, requiring local labor
to eliminate hate,
by killing any who hate truth…

conserved order, leaders, managers, laborers,

and the cursed worthless good for nothings,
always bred to man the trenches, dig the ditches,

for which we now have machines, no slaves need apply.

Right, the Holy word for authorized readers.

We can all be heros, like

Caleb, whose land had giants, yet Caleb
had the conquerors's courage, his troops
had nothing to lose,
out of the wilderness,
into Ezra's exhortation, work or die,
Noah, Ezra, Joe Smith, same function,
heroic tales told
in Babylon,
under authority
from no less than the authority
of Moses, first witness to events in Eden,
whose will wrote the law, while atop Sinai,
obedient, to the letter, no lie, no lie
the command
not all of it,
of course, the ten commands,
one must clearly outlaw prevarication,
ah
wit wound windwise turning inward,
left and right, swirling axial role rights
tighten
time
BTW, jot and tittle
close inspection reveals,
"Thou shalt not lie" literally is not commanded.
Not one of 10 minimum obediances demanded.

Never the less, chosen to survive the womb,
despite definite spiritual cuckoos egg odd ducks.

Chosen-ness, excluding any not
of the blood, as determined, how, back when,
? serpent on a pole, no, what could determine,
who is included in the chosen to rule class of us

purging foul stench from shame on the mighty

by surging pride in rebuilding a people, a mind,

which when tuned
to prosperities patterns learns,
this is the old way, where good is, we sought.

We find, unnoticed,
here, held seperated, by God,
not our fault, we did not choose
to be chosen, truth, Essene evidence,
is all the evidence
of Genesis we really have…

circumstantial historical happenings happened
to us, each one, made
from two, made
from four, made us, eventually deemed equal,

by virtue of a kinsman's redemption, shoe shucking,
symbiology symbolism recognition, by right, taken,

my ownable, fungible intellectual property, the air
I altered through mediating peace where none ever is,

at the core spin, the one, big spinning polarity that is,
present tension, hold us, each, in mindful now, this is,

as we have agreed, words work thought, we make
believe a verb, we use love as if it, too, is such, a verb…

active ability accounting for idle word, as such, loving

called to become, shapen
by time, the steady course correcting

force pulling,
momentum pushing, coagulating mass,

from once, when nothing was,
but the unspeakably
sacred potential
of you,

the one, you,
never one like you,
your unique role,
the one thing only you are,
and only you may be, that is
the one law
of life
in our bubble
of being, is to be, any must chose,

to be like whatever one feels like,
as birds of a feather flock on,
each parrot or person perfectly
randomly conceived to mature,
unique, vibration of reality
as manifestly difficult
to get through without learning

the root of beauty, is not beautiful,
its functional, essential no light state…
grow up, grow down, grow weary
become old and become soil.

All men decompose, no contest, all tie.
Dust or ash, same difference, pride

lay beside the heretic's troubled cognitions,
say true, pride alone powered all our wars.

-----------------------

Ontogeny, whence came we hence,
whither go we thence here after?

Bards sent forth with vatic blessing,
go, thou gifted with gab, go
say thus saith he with power,

to take the breath and the breather,
and punish each wrong imagination,
as adultery, in the core, in the heart,

done, done,
done… In deed, remarkably

non staining, resulting in no outward,
shame on the man, taken in the very act…

what standard waves the same
whether winds blow north or south?

Whose mind opens to recognized
authority, memory verses from childhood,
neighbor hood vacation Bible school,
instead of camp, great revelation,
instead of hell, your default after,

if, you wish otherwise, believe the good news,
it works, with patience, perfecting itself,

Magnificent, magnified,
eye to eye as any little child's messenger
app proves, there is here an interface,

a way,
a portal for important recognition
apropos your purpose driven life,

imagined, along mystical wilderness trails,
far as ever imagined from the maddened masses,

gravity, initially retracting reasonable doubt,
God, Elohim and Hermetic orderly revelation,

leaves us being, recent, new thinkers, thinking
original thoughts, using multifaceted wordforms,

holy invocations, declared knowns, all the people
said Amen, yet,
but

what if, the one turning universe, rewound,
stopped, sistere, reverse course, stand sun still

leave, this POV. Reader reading life in a book,
thinking time from a bottle, an ancient amphora,

thought possibly the uncorked source of story,
the Epimethean suggestion given hope, enough.

Make believe, let us pretend, behave as knowers,
leave us establish order, here,
believe my most used me to make you think

you know, what I mean, you hear, what I said,
filtered through beans in your ears, been there,
done that, read about it, heard tell, one time,

suffer not
a novice,
to teach or preach, eh, there oughta be a law,

lie not, one against the other brother, truth
is not elusive, after all's been said to judge me,

to weigh the worth of my time taken up, thunk,
functionally funky, rough shod, taken strength,

turning universally tightening chirality to work,
two wheels joined tighten toward forward
motion, heuristic conditional ifery, by word

righty tighty, taken to the left side, axially,
loosens and leads to wheels falling off,
and yokes breaking and oxen becoming
barbecue.
-----------------------

Through the industrial spinning
wombed men, leaving children
to fend for themselves, child wise,

never allowed to learn the art
used for casting spells to alert
receivers of magic papers read

as auspex read
the birds and feathers
informing ready readers
look up untested lies,
famously leaders seer's
methods for redemption
of unentertained mobs,
drawn by word of free bread,
too lowly for even the hucksters,

A poet's voice, oh, Emma, beauty,
make the New Colossus bow in shame,
"Keep, ancient lands, your storied pomp!"
cries she
With silent lips.

"Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning
to breathe free,
The wretched refuse
of your teeming shore.
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost
to me,
I lift my lamp beside the golden door!" (1883)

From <https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Emma_Lazarus>


Whose to shame, whose to blame, who
are we to say, we whose nation is so good…

steal from some mind feebler than thine,

self preserve,
within the life
after the womb,

where
in all potential variation
a we acquired local order
involving cascades
of coincidental
instances when next depends
from now,
by a thread, twisting
some how,
should the whole truth we swear
to tell, have fallen into JWST awful true,

look at us from a million miles away, wave,
make noise, holler like the last who in whoville.

What good does it do, who are you to ask?

A truth, fitly twisted,
takes any time paid attention a pinch of worths
good to know,
possibly freeing many children's convinced
fear
of holy wrath, likened
to a raging man,

stilled at the truth,
survivor
of a devious plan
to undermine heaven's command
to turn, universally, inverse, obverse, turn to

see men as trees, ently walking, literally as if,

we may say mankind knows the hero myth,
we may say ourkind knows the messianic version,
we may say kindness knows the kindest way

to say, God sent me, I am here to help.

Hey, sky pilot, what can you be proud of today?

Don't let an old vet make you doubt the whole
truth you are sworn to know beyond all doubt,
truth you serve, guardian of the story, faith tells

children, wordlessly, knowing seeps in, science
occurs, with first lottery lost, with last ditch crossed,
face to face with former soldiers lost to lies, true,

If, my son, you can keep your head…

ah, Kipling, I have wept with you, I, did not die.

My warrior days left me alive, did you feel that, too.

Common Form, we form, whatsoever we
agree, as ghostly reminders of spiritual facts, brave
is a spirit, diffidence and confidence, as well, mere

states of mind, kind of like standing, still, sol-stice,
sistere, tortuga, shields up stand, take the blow,
settle all accounts, love your neighbor, suffer
situations beyond mind's control, sequencing

Hallelujahs from trusters in horses, who deal in war.

"Should any ask why we died,
  Tell them, because our father's lied."
Free to publish any where, I said. Not my intellect's property, in truth.
Therapy is knowing somebody will think with me, and our agreeing may make a political force gone holier than any, humble itself under local face to face truth that killing does to a national mind dedicated to justice in truth.
eliana Jun 23
I don't like it when people fight.
My mom and dad do every night.
I lie in bed and pretend to be asleep.
My mom looks in; I don't make a peep.

Sometimes I wish I didn't live here.
I'm a little girl who only feels fear.
When I go to school I put on a big smile.
I pretend things are fine, and it works for a while.

But there are days when I am very sad.
When I've been called names and told that I'm bad,
Then I keep to myself and hide my shame,
For I don't really know who to blame.

I'm scared to have friends come over to play.
I never dare ask if my friends can stay,
For I don't know when they will start.
I'm just a little girl trying to be smart.

The dishes breaking, the yelling, the shouting.
Their fights are ever so mounting.
I'm the innocent victim who feels rejected
Instead of feeling loved and respected.

But maybe if I wish really hard
The memories will ease and I won't be scarred.
When I awaken, maybe my wish will come true.
Out with the old and in with the new.

A new way of living for my parents and I.
There'll be no more tears for the little girl to cry,
But it's really ******* children to grow up like this.
They'll look back on a childhood they really missed.
i tried to write in the perspective of my little self and the childhood i had, and older me looking back at it.
Mariah Jun 20
Guilt, guilt, guilt
As far as I can see

Weight, weight, wait!
Its crashing down on me

Shame upon my name
Rehabilitate with blame

Change, change, strange
Things still stay the same
I don't know if this makes sense but I feel it anyway.
Zywa Jun 18
I see her peeping,

she looks back to me and then --


we are both ashamed.
Collection "Take a picture, now"
Kalliope Jun 11
Maybe I'm nails on a chalkboard,
Interrupting peace with every screech.
Your two least favorite foods mixed together
A sight no one wants to see.

Maybe I’m polka dots paired with stripes,
Three clashing shades of pink.
A beat too fast, the words don’t match,
And you’ll never catch up to me.

I’m toast that's burnt, leaves left on the curb,
The promise of fun—but never the one.
And worst of all?
I’m the one who got me there.
It's just a reminder to be better
Roni Hall Jun 10
Even though they control my *****,

claim over my lootie,

and they attempt to gaslight my sovereign multifrequency

I haven’t forgotten I am a certified Duesy!

You’re bumming off me, little mousie.

Even if you thought I was a loosy,

I adore my *****.

I mean just look at the way it oozes,

sweet nectar that makes you goosey!

I’m too busy

keeping you alive from my *****.

Orgasming at light speed to my divine presence, to behold you’d require a diamond koozie.

Call yourself a flouzy

for not respecting this sequency.

If you truly had one too, you’d understand why I am reclaiming my dignity.

They want to own what they do not revere in secrecy.

I can’t be bothered to slow down for you to drain my juicy.

I am too in love with my *****.

They try very hard to downplay my power, so sussy.

Bow down or drown in this *****!

Ordained into structured flowies,

life is mine, fulfillment With me can be so easy.

But if you’re not with this *****,

don’t get too close you Will get dizzy!



So much life is brewing inside my *****.

It’s ironic, all these dictators came through my *****.

My lips spit you out even though you pretend to be so bossy.

True Power can’t be manipulated you fool, I’d be triggered too if my mind was that lousy!

Are you put off yet, *****?

Awww, don’t be so fussy!

Thaw that heart out it’s too icy.

GET OUT of my *****,

go elsewhere to be pissy!

Just not on my planet crazy,

you’re on your last mercy!
Kalliope Jun 9
So tell me love, do you feel better now?
Have all your questions been answered, will you let it die out?

Tell me love- did it fix your pain?
Is your chest no longer aching? Are you finished storming rain?

Tell me love, can you really accept it? You're not just a lighter you're
also a match stick

Tell me love what have you learned?
Did you really learn your lesson- will everyone get burned?

Tell me love will it make a difference? You want to change but you're never good with this

Tell me love you think it's all fate? That a few months of work can replace all your hate?

Tell me love- for you know it's true, you're a star burnt out and he's too good for you

Tell me love- can you stay this course? Or will you stop arguing with me once your voice is hoarse?

So tell me love did your mind untangle? Or did you just ramble on wishing your own neck you could strangle?
When everything goes quiet,
I begin to argue with myself
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