I sensed the pureness and innocence
in your sacred space
A passion I haven't felt in a long time
I saw a part of me in you
I've never met someone I felt affinity to before
But after a while you ended up on a that path, the one they manipulate everyone to go to
You've lost your authenticity
You are now a puppet under their spell
You are letting your beautiful heart be consumed by darkness and evil
This is not who you are, I know because I felt the real you
Everyone is born pure and innocent, with a heart ready to love all
Please don't let it take you
I got sucked in for a while, died a little inside
Lost, and confused in emptiness
I focused on healing myself and let the love and light enter my heart again
I want to one day remind you to really see and feel
the light and pureness of unconditional universal love that is within you
They are forever frozen,
towards the skies above.
They are told they
can touch the stars,
just out of reach.
Armies of them are placed
together -- frozen in the battle
to achieve their goal.
Wars are fought, lives lost
seasons past, years fly
they stand there - forever frozen.
Some are as ancient as the
others are born into the world
with this impossible task.
They are imprisoned
by the earth
but still reach for the stars:
Words are more than sounds that are born from simple shapes the mouth make, more than mere vibrations that have spilled from your voice box and into the open air.
Words are vessels which can cradle feelings of beauty and happiness.
Other times it can be a syringe which injects poisonous and deadly thoughts into the brain.
I think it is safe to say I have had my fair share of these doses.
I share with you a story
committed to memory in my castle tower,
an amusing tale of Benjamin Deamer
and his three legged dog named, Power.
Benjamin was nine years of age
and most happy when helping;
Power was two years of age
and most playful when yelping.
Benji's Grandma had a birthday
and was born in 1926.
She is, one might say,
at her best while showing off silly tricks!
Benji had a great idea for her birthday-
bake a cheesecake for a picnic
and she is, one might say,
clever with using chopsticks
to eat, to drum, to play
for all of her critics,
and as Benjamin would say,
"She has many nifty little gimmicks!"
"A cheesecake it is!
I'll fill it with fruit,
and I know she'll love this,
if I write on it with a cherry on top, 'I love you'!"
Power and Benji had a blast
gathering all the ingredients in a glass.
Power nosed Benji, "Please?", for cream cheese
while Benji made a crust from graham crackers he smashed.
Power fetched three eggs
and squished a lemon with his paw.
Benji was preparing strawberries,
sour cream, sugar and all.
In the blender for a spin
then the real fun begins,
when they get to beat the cream light and fluffy
and add some sweet pumpkin!
When all was done
Benji slid the cake in the oven.
Power and Benji watched intently
switching positions every dozen
minutes or so that time slowly passed,
patiently waiting forty-five minutes;
…..when, with a Ding!, Alas!,
Benji and Power swooped in like two bandits.
He let it cool for a bit
and grabbed his mom's basket,
carefully wrapping his gift
in some cellophane plastic.
Power was surprised
at the strength of the aroma;
it was quickly advised
to fetch Benji some grape soda.
The cheesecake was perfect
and Benji knew grandma would be ecstatic.
Benji had to leave with the basket
and Power, his bouncing sidekick!
He skipped and he jogged
carefully with his three legged dog,
carrying his basket with no soda
but a half gallon of eggnog.
Halfway to grandma's house
Power took to chase with a pigeon,
darting into a work zone
with three feathers stuck to his chin.
Benji thought of the hugs
he was going to receive,
for such a thoughtful gift for grandma
that she wouldn't believe.
Power had his own plans
chasing a bird 'round that work zone.
He was a little freaked by those wingspans
and of his playful, young world unknown!
Benji stopped at a gate
whistling and waiting for Power.
He felt that this might be the bird's fate,
surely soon to turn sour.
From around a corner he dashed
into the lap of Benji!
The cheesecake had crashed
popping out of the basket so easy!
Landing in a square of new cement,
bordered by a thin caution ribbon,
Benji and Power had no comment
about their gift that had fallen
into that slab of thick cement.
They worried what grandma would think
of how much this gift meant
left only with eggnog to drink!
With heads down they walked
the last mile to her house.
Sadly, they cried and talked,
never louder than that of a mouse.
Power galloped up to grandma
with Benji not far behind,
sitting erect with tired paws
not yet relaxing to unwind.
Grandma reached out her arm
and pulled in a bummed out Benji,
saying to her grandson,
and his three legged charm,
"the world's troubles stop when you hug me-
and I love you with a cherry on top!"
Disassociating from life
A self-assured little leaf,
Adrift upon the dry winds of doubt
Never to land, or to be landed upon in turn
For what view is old,
May yet be born again
Through the ever twisting enigma of lifes currents
For what is the finish, without the journey
For life does not have a meaning
Besides the one we give it
i'll always be the one waiting
being the one they depend on
and yet i dont mind
because that's life, you cant expect it to be perfect
even though you want to you just cant
well, find the reason why and one day you'll understand
why nobody is born with a perfect life
From Hand to Mouth, A Man Gives Birth
Sometimes the pen, unnecessary.
The poem, fully formed, in his mouth, born.
Silent back labor, unbeknownst the existence
Of such a thing, yet knowing now
His contractions, coming fast and furious,
Eyes many centimeters dilated,
The sac's fluid breaks upon the poet's tongue,
He pronounces in a single breath his
When his hand to mouth, goes,
Like Moses, when he touched the burning coals,
The words are signaled, freedom!
The words announce:
We are now created, conceived and
This new oxgenated atmosphere is now our
final resting place.
This child, the poem, this exhalation,
Once freed, is lost to him,
It's been renamed, retitled,
by hundreds of newly adopted parents as
When you hear the poet-man exclaim,
I live hand to mouth!
Weep joy by, for and with him,
For his true meaning now clarified,
An ode to joy has
Been birthed this day,
A child for the people.
Crippled child, crippled man,
crippled lame man,
who could ask more of me than God,
who broke me, before I even came.
and so, gnarled little stump of a boy,
who only felt shame,
he who could have known love,
felt only shame.
How could this happen
It wasn't supposed to be that way,
brave little boy though,
held his head high,
and walked forward,
but who could know the fear he felt,
terrified, he took the next step,
and at every turn, the looks,
laughter and jeers sounded beyond the senses,
How it felt, horrible,
but still the head held high,
such strength and valour,
oh, beautiful child
I am here now,
I am the light in the darkness,
and I can see,
you have returned to me,
and what can a father say,
except forgive me
even a God will cry, at times....
Every time you hear
A baby laugh -
Every time you see
A firefly -
When new spring
Or you hear the
And Momma's perfume
Fills the room,
When the first flakes
From winter fall -
And when you hear
The robin's call -
When you see
A bright-eyed child
On Christmas morn,
Or a brand-new baby born,
Just like the soft silk
From the corn -
I'm in the teardrops Grandma cries
When praying every night.
And when the eve is over,
You'll feel me in the morning light.
And every ray of sunshine
That warms your Saturday,
I'm there. I'm in their laughter
When I see my sisters play.
When you hear
The thunders roll -
Or hear the sharp song
Of the Oriole,
When April blossoms fill the trees,
Or you hear the song of honey bees,
Just like the gentle
In the cool of the morning dew,
And in the little songs that you
Hum when you're not aware,
Or when new snow falls,
And Grandpa calls
To ask you how you are.
When the rain beats low
And the soft moon glow
Wakes up another star.
I'm in the lazy
The dancing trees -
When the first spring rain
Greets the day,
Or you hear my sisters pray,
And a secret blessing
Falls your way,
When the first leaves
Of Autumn turn,
And Winter nips
Against your door,
And starlight dances
Through the sky,
And bare feet tap
Across the floor,
Or that final breath
Of Autumn sings
A song from oh, so
And Winter sets her
Eyes upon the morning
With a dust of snow,
I'll be watching over you,
As quiet as can be,
With a gentle warmth
Within my heart-
Because you mean
So much to me.
Copyright © 2011 Richard D. Remler
"Perhaps they are not the stars, but rather
openings in Heaven where the love of our lost
ones pours through and shines down
upon us to let us know they are happy."
This poem is not meant to
Offend anyone's faith or
This Is In Memory of Gage King,
My young cousin, who, on Tuesday,
September 2, 2003, at the age of 5,
Was struck and killed while riding
His bicycle by someone speeding
Through a residential section of
Manning, Iowa, USA . .
We sell two albums on itunes you can buy them and sample them if you search loud with love thank you !
im just being me, myself
it's hard at times though
but ill be me whether or not the suns out
I'm just being me, no one else
standing in a line, soaking energy from something else
and I'll be me, whether or not they accept me now
I'm just being me, ask someone else
they'll tell you I been me all along
true words coming out their mouths
cuz I've been me since the day I was born
dont let no man conflict it
let um um all be fare warned
Ill be me
you be you
do whatever it is you want to
ill still be being me
regardless of what i get put through
ill keep my smile on as i get to where i get to
could find another way
be someone else today,
but it just would feel right
being me is too tight
toot my own horn
push my own buttons
nobody else is me
wouldnt trade it for nothing
so Imma be me
you be you
go wherever it is that youve got to run to
imma be me
imma be here
hope this is what you need to see things clear