Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Marian Jun 2013
I therefore, the prisoner of
the Lord, beseech you that ye
walk worthy of the vocation
wherewith ye are called,
2 With all lowliness and
meekness, with longsuffering,
forbearing one another in love;
3 Endeavoring to keep the
unity of the Spirit in the bond of
peace.
4 There is one body, and one
Spirit, even as ye are called in one
hope of your calling;
5 One Lord, one faith, one
baptism,
6 One God and Father of all,
who is above all, and through all,
and in you all.
7 But unto ever one of us is
given grace according to the
measure of the gift of Christ.
8 Wherefore he saith, When
he ascended up on high, he led
captivity captive, and gave gifts
unto men.
9 (Now that he ascended,
what is it but that he also
descended first into the lower parts
of the earth?
10 He that descended is the
same also that ascended up far
above all heavens, that he might
fill all things.)
11 And he gave some, apostles;
and some, prophets; and some,
evangelists; and some, pastors
and teachers;
12 For the perfecting of the
saints, for the work of the
ministry, for the edifying of the
body of Christ:
13 Till we all come in the unity
of the faith, and of the
knowledge of the Son of God, unto a
perfect man, unto the measure
of the stature of the fulness of
Christ:
14 That we henceforth be no
more children, tossed to and fro,
and carried about with every
wind of doctrine, by the sleight of
men, and cunning craftiness,
whereby the lie in wait to
deceive;
15 But speaking the truth in
love, may grow up into him in all
things, which is the head, even
Christ:
16 From whom the whole body
fitly joined together and
compacted by that which every joint
supplieth, according to the
effectual working in the measure of
every part, maketh increase of the
body unto the edifying of itself in
love.
17 This I say therefore, and
testify in the Lord, that ye henceforth
walk not as other Gentiles walk,
in the vanity of their mind,
18 Having the understanding
darkened, being alienated from
the life of God through the
ignorance that is in them,
because of the blindness of their
heart:
19 Who being past feeling have
given themselves over unto
lasciviousness, to work all
uncleanness with greediness.
20 But ye have not so learned
Christ;
21 If so be that ye have heard
him, and have been taught by
him, as the truth is in Jesus:
22 That ye put off concerning
the former conversation the old
man, which is corrupt according
to the deceitful lusts;
23 And be renewed in the spirit
of your mind;
24 And that ye put on the
new man, which after God is
created in righteousness and true
holiness.
25 Wherefore putting away
lying, speak every man truth with
his neighbour: for we are
members one of another.
26 Be ye angry, and sun not: let
not the sun go down upon your
wrath:
27 Neither give place to the
devil.
28 Let him that stole steal no
more: but rather let him labour,
working with his hands the thing
which is good, that he may have
to give to him that needeth.
29 Let no corrupt
communication proceed out of your mouth,
but that which is good to the use
of edifying, that it may minister
grace unto the hearers.
30 And grieve not the holy
Spirit of God, whereby ye are
sealed until the day of
redemption.
31 Let all bitterness, and wrath,
and anger, and clamour, and evil
speaking, be put away from you,
with all malice:
32 And be ye kind one to
another, tenderhearted, forgiving one
another, even as God for Christ's
sake hath forgiven you.
Emeka Mokeme Aug 2018
On chain they did put me,
******* to the burglary protector,
handcuffed and battered.
Tortured and meant to be broken.
Poisoned but survived.
Marked for assassination,
and shot twice,
bullets flying around,
resilient and unflinching,
was ready to confront them.
Dead or alive I must choose one.
Must find a way out of this mess,
to escape was on my mind,
but how do I get out of here without
jeopardizing the lives of my family.
Courage summoned I revert to plan B,
the art of fighting without fighting.
Intelligence and wisdom must come into play.
Must outwit them to survive.
Cunning and craftiness must be used,
the uncanny ways of the spirit is amazing.
Become like water,
be flexible,
Yielding but still immovable.
Stealth in action but remain like the firefly.
Understanding their intent
and misdirected anger,
their aggression towards me was contained.
Tranquilized and overpowered,
their capture became imminent for
i am more than a conquerer,
for the greater one lives in me.
Today I stand here to testify of that victory against
the intruders and assassins with a grateful heart.
©2018,Emeka Mokeme. All Rights Reserved.
How I escaped from the Kidnappers and assassins. Wounded but I survived.
Jabin Jul 2018
Cast it aside I…
Can the world be so…
Is anything actually…
Where does it go?

Promises they kept
Lifted from the well.
Hurt me just a little longer…
And I will never tell.

Basically, the chains they…
Craftiness all ensnared…
Turned round to face the…
Was it ever there?

Sever my motives
What does it matter?
Emptiness concepts…
Meaning’s in tatters.

Legs wrapped tight on…
Hardly notice the…
Singes the backside…
Looks so good, huh?

                         Push me to action.
                         Call me a fake.
                         Hurt me with venom.
                         Lies from the snake.

Nobody knows that…
So much of knowing it…
Is there a knowing such…
Yet, how we commit.

The pain sets it free now.
The blisters remind us.
Sifts through unknowing…
Blood, guts, and ****.

Will it ever be, I…
Where is the voice of…
Searching for aching…

And finding love.
Andrew Rueter Jun 2018
My face blue
I race through
A misplaced zoo
Where disgrace grew
Into a mistake stew
Like the River Styx
Where people mix
Into a wall of bricks
That makes me sick

They steal my serenity
But when I look ahead of me
I see that I'll need them
To experience freedom
So I amass suitors
But I don't see them as sons or daughters
I see them as polluters
I see them as pirates and marauders

They see love as a doorway
To their own complacency
In order to see me more days
They take away my agency
Instead of aiding me
They start grading me
No longer elating me
They start deflating me

I shoot a missile
Of dismissal
Into the barricade
Of the bed I made
And keep sailing on
By flailing on
The floor
Begging for more

More people
More walls
Another sequel
Another fall
I have erected a maze
Where I've elected to graze
Deflecting their gaze
To enjoy wandering days

I experience happiness
Without their craftiness
But I begin to get lonely
My mouth starts foaming
I search to find ramparts
That can't part
Where landsharks
Eat the parked

Stuck searching
Perpetually perching
On the ledge
Of the wedge
Between myself and others
Looking for cover
I built protective walls
That became too tall
Michael P Smith Jul 2012
With the intelligence &
stamina of the wolf,
My willpower & endurance
excels beyond most,
With the stealth &
craftiness of the fox,
I take much from my
opposition & vanish in
the night like a ghost..


With the massiveness &
memory of the elephant,
My mind runs deep & retains
emotions for the better of my clan,
With the camouflage &
ingenuity of the octopus,
I escape the pursuing demons
& continue with my life long plan..


With the patience &
strength of the crocodile,
I ambush & clamp down on
my oppressors treading unnoticed,
With the devastating roar &
isolation tactics of the tiger,
I accomplish amazingly by my
lonesome while dominating
my foes with unmatched focus..


With the power, speed, &
belligerence of the mantis shrimp,
I hold the fastest punch in the
world & my power equals that of
a rifle bullet which allows me to
take on all comers on earth,
With the majesty &
grace of the argali,
I climb the highest mountains
with the greatest of ease
staying clear of my enemies
& watching over the scenes
til the next generation is birthed..


True originality...
Shows through my personality..
This is my animality..


What animals do you compare to???


Whats your animality???
Mary McCray Apr 2015
(NaPoWriMo Challenge: April 24, 2015)

*The tendency for people to place a disproportionately high value on objects that they partially assembled themselves, such as furniture from IKEA, regardless of the quality of the end result.:

My press-board dresser is a found poem.
Partly not-me but traces of my DNA
all over the ideas of wood.

Pointing to it I say:
this is me, something more
than nothing.

It is my romantic grain to cherish this,
to value the mass produced artifice
alongside the singular sensation.

One. Many. Me. Them.
What’s it all worth?
Bullies of values poke us

to tears and craft and craftiness.
LA street art disparaged by NYC
fashionistas. Let us drill down

the spur of all gangland critique.
Face the mural as it lays. Park the car,
face the plane and listen

to what every one is saying,
even if it’s nothing but
a minute reclaimed.
Good article on LA Street Art: http://laist.com/2015/04/23/best_street_art_los_angeles.php
Michael P Smith Apr 2013
As the Nightingale sings...
His sweet song of happiness
Driven by bountiful liberation
Relieved from timeless crappiness
Fluttering, making a joyful noise
Trials to deprive him of craftiness
Surely fails at inflicting such harm
He sings gleefully, free of nastiness.


As the Nightingale sings...
His wrenching song of fear
Realizing his time can easily fall
At any moment danger may appear
Songs of melodic screechy whistles
Alerting of predators lurking clear
He's hurt, used to frequent viewing
His kin die, for each he sheds a tear.


As the Nightingale sings...
His sensual song of passion
Strong vocals of desired courtship
Refusing to share his ration
With many rivals upon his branch
Alluring females with his attraction
Mating rituals commencing in love
His plumage thrives in new fashion.


As the Nightingale sings...
His saddened song of sorrow
Wishing for better times to come
Hoping to make it to the morrow
Living below a abundant food chain
With a short lifespan to borrow
Singing til his last breath is breathed
Eloped to heaven, a angel he follows.

© Michael P. Smith
Childhood Campy Chimera Curtain Call

Arctic bitter dead of winter cold
polar vortex deep freezes each lovely bone
excellent existential prized memory
swimmingly recalls boyhood

listening to drone
of various and sundry
en deer ring fauna
extant amidst greensward,

where imagination hath flown
to imaginary Eden lifting
uber a maize zing ears
cocked towards
Mother Nature's petsmart crafted chorus

flushing out soundcloud
queen of happy campers
with bees zee winged
wonders as they hone

suite tracks unstinting
well crafted aural presentations
intended to entice
a mate opposite jejune

targeting their search
nsync with one or another
favorable counterpart, this buzz zing
destiny could favor a loon

or some other apropos biological entity
(or perchance if desperate to mate) **** sitter
another species including the manifestation
of microbes on the moon

whereat boys and girls bounding,
exclaiming, and yelping
joie de vivre asper when counselors
blow whistle call at high noon
hour of day iz lunch, thence resuming
their made up fun and par lore games
such as knight in shining armor
dashing off to save

damsel in distress signaling
sans SOS and favorite ring tone tune
of potential prince
where young love doth Flickr
oblivious to a similar situation, aye lichen
to avast Marcy's playground

such panoply a prediction
forecast by Doctor Punxatawney Phil
a blue oyster cult meme burr
thus, in lay person terms
six more weeks of winter for 2018 -

so stay warm to stave off feeling offal
bodes ill for species who clamor for warmth -
supposed tell tale shadow
spelt "N+I+L+L"
and remain in hibernation
if opportunities allow,
and be thankful for not bing forced to mill
around seeking warmth
(case in point a street person),

but ye and the big or 'lil
body of warm flesh adjacent to thee
(this day and age -
gender preference a moot factor),

or take stock, stock and barrel,
how other creatures great and small
burrow underground under a hill
or reef amphibians, mammals, reptiles...

instinct can remain 20,000 Leagues Under The Sea
a fictitious place evoked by Jules Verne,...
hm...maybe he might breathe
courtesy of an atavistic gill
who would downplay brouhaha
to avoid any cavil.
Emeka Mokeme Jul 2018
See what we have become,
love has propelled us
to greater heights.
Greatness has visited us.
Mercy has shown up
and smiled at us.
Grace is at work.
His banner over us is love,
for the beauty of the spirit
shines forth.
Fortune is here to be taken
by all who are worthy of it.
Your faith is all you've got
to win in the down world.
Faith drives the body to conquer
the insurmountable.
Unshakable to withstand the storm,
for the mountain you carry,
you were supposed to climb.
The sword of the spirit drawn
against all craftiness and
manipulations of the evil intruders
who messes with you and those you love.
For the greater one lives and dwells in you.
To be in harmonium with ourselves is a
prerequisites for harmony to reign.
Immense help is available for the
ones who dares to seek for divine support.
To knock on the door unanswered
shows that you just need to push harder
for it to be opened.
For the one who asked is helped.
Remember that anyone who cannot be
counselled cannot be helped.
This is the new dawn.
Arise now and reset your life.
©2018,Emeka Mokeme. All Rights Reserved.
Emeka Mokeme Sep 2018
He manipulate his friends
and eliminate his enemies by
his cunning craftiness.
And he thinks he has won.
He cries wolf before he falls.
There's a mountain between us,
and he can never be like you
for he is darned.
He is not worthy of your friendship.
He belongs to the circle
of the dreaded assassins,
head of the herdsmen,
their creed is deep,
terrible and terrifying indeed.
Fear the one that is horribly terrifying
for he is after your life.
How does this whole thing landed
within you and what shifted as a result.
Run for your life,
he will not have mercy.
Wickedness is wrought in him.
The gull of bitterness and
hatred surrounds him.
He will be consumed by the same
fire he has set.
There's no freedom for the
one who enslaves anyone,
his weakness is made manifest
for he is a coward.
Professing to hate corruption,
he fights it with a slack hand,
and a lying tongue,
a deceiver not to be trusted.
He eats corruption as a bread of sorrow.
Woven around him as a spiders web,
he seeks destruction for the naive
as well as the elite.
The one who cannot publicly address you
but only through another to get
his messages across to those
he proclaimed to rule,
hiding behind the iron curtain,
surrounded by deadly killers.
Never will he rule again even as a
weakling that he is.
He will woefully fail as always,
for he is not knowledgeable and
has no good plans for you.
Wished he's smart enough to see
how dumb he is.
©2018,Emeka Mokeme. All Rights Reserved.
Gary W Weasel Jr Feb 2010
So oft I delayed and waited
For I meddled only within my own affairs
I only became something I would come to hate
And failed to provide you with all my cares.

My heart now, resides with your hand
The choice between an orange or an apple
Oh, which of the two is more bitter?
Oh, which provides a superior sample?

Which I am in which hand, I know not
Yet let me cry for what I may be!
We have arrived at the crossroads
Before ye steer, observe my story.

In the beginning, I left the womb
And times of many moons passed away
Till the time came with craftiness I,
Assembled a ship to sail the ocean sway.

Twas the first chosen isle at sea,
And I commenced to approach in naivety
Fierce was the reef surrounding all
Though I caught glimpse she cast me to sea.

So on I sailed and stumbled upon
Another isle I felt worthy of time
Yet already populated I did not last
She was already sinking - a foreboding sign

A score of moons later did I flee
To eventually find a better one beam
For my miles at sea were providing me
A chance to prove myself less green

This sanctuary that held no silver
Yet to me was pristine and true
But yet I know not a secret it held
And yet at the end my time was off cue

I wallow through the ocean's rage
Discontent and bitter at the helm
Until one day a shipmate cried out,
"Land **!" Thus entering a new realm.

Upon this isle, it was as no other
Something pure about it captivates so
An air about instilled the fear of God
So exploring what majesty I did not know

And glorious the findings, I took delight!
Proceeding on with a cheerful fright
Over a score of moons I rejoiced
Basking within the dew ever moist.

Yet then did I tarry and labor to,
And cut down many a precious tree
Stomping the reef, ruining around
All my actions, how blind could I be?

Oh woe!  Twas there mutiny yet,
For in my slumber a shipmate schemed.
And whilst the dark ruled o'er the sky
He untethered me for an isle redeemed

In a jolt, in a panic, I arose and woke
For was I already distant in the seas
And stricken with agony, what could I do?
Yet here I am, at the bow, on my knees...

For all the glory the work my hands bring,
What does it matter?
If I'm alone...

For if on stage I walk with Latin praise?
What does it matter?
If I'm alone...

For a handshake high and a pat on the back
What does it matter?
If I'm alone...

For upon every exploration of this world,
What does it matter?
If I'm alone...

For the moments of laughter and moments of cheer,
What does it matter?
If I'm alone...

There are only so many isles worthy of sea.
On my knees, I pray I'm carried back that way.
For mayst it take over one hundred moons more...

To discover an isle at sea,
Just as thee.
August 8, 2009 at 7:20 am PDT
Francis Nov 2023
Your presence be known, if needed,
In a pinch,
You’re here or there when summoned,
Yet never praised,
Often overlooked and misunderstood.

Always guessing where this road will end,
How backwards is over where you bend,
For all of whom claim to be your friend,
Your classiness and craftiness I will always commend.

Finding nowhere to rest my head,
You were a place to lean on,
A host when I had no place to dream,
A mentor of my bizarre fantasies,
Of all trades that you’ve mastered,
That I aimed to perfect.

Ages lightyears apart,
Yet still closely in tune,
We play the same music,
A grasshopper to your sensei,
I sail the endless seas of your knowledge,
A lighthouse to my rocky waters.

With shared poverty,
You scraped together your last,
To fill my belly with lamb,
Your cynicism of man,
Your confidence in me,
A father and son, not quite
A grandfather and grandson, hardly,
An odd couple that just makes sense.

A Sinatra-like scholar,
With more brains, ***** and bravery,
You are a man’s man for men,
Everything that I want to be,
And everything that I could need,
In a friend.
Dedicated to my friend and colleague, Joe, who taught me so much about everything and gave me a place to sleep when I needed it.
Andrew Rymill Jun 2014
It hard to know
Why i was expelled
From the fundamentals of poetry.

Each day
Like a loyal monk
i played my flute
With the basket
Over my head.
As the lemmings
Passed
In quadrangles of co-eds.
For everything i must remember
Something must be forgotten.

Often the days
Of learning
Have attempted to remove
Both the marrow and my intuition
From my bones.

Learning is to suppress
Creativity within
Like a poor mouse
Dreams of cheese.

In the first graduation
A woman matriculated
From Adam’s rib.

Into my textbook
i stuffed the snowflakes
i have cut craftiness
With my artless intellect.


Learning
Is ego
And i am
Priest of nothingness.

Some times
The best koans
Make ice-cream cones.
I therefore, the prisoner of the Lord, beseech you that ye walk worthy of the vocation wherewith ye are called,

2 With all lowliness and meekness, with longsuffering, forbearing one another in love;

3 Endeavouring to keep the unity of the Spirit in the bond of peace.

4 There is one body, and one Spirit, even as ye are called in one hope of your calling;

5 One Lord, one faith, one baptism,

6 One God and Father of all, who is above all, and through all, and in you all.

7 But unto every one of us is given grace according to the measure of the gift of Christ.

8 Wherefore he saith, When he ascended up on high, he led captivity captive, and gave gifts unto men.

9 (Now that he ascended, what is it but that he also descended first into the lower parts of the earth?

10 He that descended is the same also that ascended up far above all heavens, that he might fill all things.)

11 And he gave some, apostles; and some, prophets; and some, evangelists; and some, pastors and teachers;

12 For the perfecting of the saints, for the work of the ministry, for the edifying of the body of Christ:

13 Till we all come in the unity of the faith, and of the knowledge of the Son of God, unto a perfect man, unto the measure of the stature of the fulness of Christ:

14 That we henceforth be no more children, tossed to and fro, and carried about with every wind of doctrine, by the sleight of men, and cunning craftiness, whereby they lie in wait to deceive;

15 But speaking the truth in love, may grow up into him in all things, which is the head, even Christ:

16 From whom the whole body fitly joined together and compacted by that which every joint supplieth, according to the effectual working in the measure of every part, maketh increase of the body unto the edifying of itself in love.

17 This I say therefore, and testify in the Lord, that ye henceforth walk not as other Gentiles walk, in the vanity of their mind,

18 Having the understanding darkened, being alienated from the life of God through the ignorance that is in them, because of the blindness of their heart:

19 Who being past feeling have given themselves over unto lasciviousness, to work all uncleanness with greediness.

20 But ye have not so learned Christ;

21 If so be that ye have heard him, and have been taught by him, as the truth is in Jesus:

22 That ye put off concerning the former conversation the old man, which is corrupt according to the deceitful lusts;

23 And be renewed in the spirit of your mind;

24 And that ye put on the new man, which after God is created in righteousness and true holiness.

25 Wherefore putting away lying, speak every man truth with his neighbour: for we are members one of another.

26 Be ye angry, and sin not: let not the sun go down upon your wrath:

27 Neither give place to the devil.

28 Let him that stole steal no more: but rather let him labour, working with his hands the thing which is good, that he may have to give to him that needeth.

29 Let no corrupt communication proceed out of your mouth, but that which is good to the use of edifying, that it may minister grace unto the hearers.

30 And grieve not the holy Spirit of God, whereby ye are sealed unto the day of redemption.

31 Let all bitterness, and wrath, and anger, and clamour, and evil speaking, be put away from you, with all malice:

32 And be ye kind one to another, tenderhearted, forgiving one another, even as God for Christ's sake hath forgiven you.
STAY GOOD.!
Glamorously she walked out of the bedroom

****** feet on the cold wood ****** floor

She looked through the window;

The window which faces nowhere

In her silent look;

She soliloquized 99 questions, but no one heard

Idea captured her imagination; lightening speed

She is enchanted by his silky voice and craftiness

A face for her he invented

Behind it she died, prayed, lived and died

She wore it so graceful

When she died no one knew she had died twice

Though she is dead, she still lives

Though she is dead, she still speaks

A face with feet walking on eerie Elm Street
Browsing through dark alleys in search for a new client
He is a romantic ******;

Silently, he has killed all his prey with one shot

A cut through shot to the heart

Fairest daughter of the King;

Arouse not thy love until it so desires

He is too good to be ignored at first sight

She is struggling to control herself

He came here because of her

She is thinking it’s her moment

The voice in her heart; too loud

She can hardly hear her own voice

Shhhhh…

A silence

A flashback

She recollects mom last words on her dead bed

Out of her purse; a portrait picture she pulled

A perfect image of mom’s assailant is on the dance floor
A walk away to the exit door which leads to destiny; eternity

She was not ashamed losing momentary fame

The long silent walk through the side walk;

A victory lap to the podium for a gold medallion
Copyright 2014:GOG|McDaniels Gyamfi
K Balachandran Apr 2016
I fell from the mountain peak, I climbed alone,
in to the blue depth of her lonely heart, frothing hot.

She feigned surprise,"Do not know how this happened"
I remembered seeing her creeping in to my thoughts before.

Was it a conspiracy we both hatched together,a subconscious plot!

Did I slip and fall in to her expectant heart,waiting warmly for me?
The way to a maiden's heart and the secret of a man's craftiness
are unknown; we decide our love, is to be accepted, with an open heart
Are we spooked, trapped inside the logic of a Salvador Dali painting?
Michael R Burch Mar 2020
The Dromedary or Stage Craft-y
(a limerick for children of all ages)
by Michael R. Burch

There once was a dromedary
who befriended a crafty canary.
Budgie said, “You can’t sing,
but here’s the thing:
just think of the tunes you can carry!”



Ballade of the Bicameral Camel
by Michael R. Burch

There once was a camel who loved to ****.
Please get your lewd minds out of their slump!
He loved to give RIDES on his large, lordly lump!

Keywords/Tags: limerick, light verse, nonsense verse, humor, humorous, animals, nature, dromedary, canary, camel, ****, lump, ride, rides, craft, crafty, craftiness, music, tunes, sing, singing, carry a tune, duet
omnipresent
the she snake
S
     *L

I
    T
      H
E
     R
         I
N
   G
on the ground

none so sneaky
as she
at biting rival females
with such a penetrating
degree

shifty the moves
she employs
craftiness in all their
vengeful ploys

she the snake
is cold of calculation
and her heart has
*little consideration
Liana Veteto Apr 2013
Let me bask
In the excellence.
Let me wonder in the explosion
And add the new colors to my pallette.

This is mine
Such desolation
Can belong to none other
This is but another ode to my craftiness.

Pain is mine.
I create the victim
I conduct such an orchestra
And all these are players on my team.

I own it.
All destruction
That dare to befall me
Only adds to my repetoire of tricks.

[Please allow me to introduce myself...]
Bill murray Jul 2015
Long overboard craftiness on horizon shire
Gone with the seagull's
Foretold distance I strive to make by all ship ahoy
Solemn noise plants itself
In June branch
Emeka Mokeme Oct 2018
Every move in time and
each word spoken at any
moment has a purpose.
There is an invisible
bond that unites
everything,
you cannot touch me
without disturbing a star.
As long as you hug and
touch me with love,
you have touched heaven.
So many thoughts,
spoken and unspoken,
even unspeakable words
from the heart has
gone out into the universe,
indelible in it's form,
intriguing and profound,
untapped and captivating
yet eternally impressive.
Come to me with love
and the temple door of my
soul will be open to you.
For the key of entrance
within is only love.
Each one reaches one,
and have it's own unique
master key to open
the impregnable.
With unique combination of
impressive words the mouth
utters what lies within the heart
with such craftiness of an artist,
paint on the canvas of the heart
the words pleasing to the ears,
wove each words with such
impressive combination of others
to mesmerize and warm it's way
to the soul.
The heart unlocked in response
of the magic words uttered is now freed.
©2018,Emeka Mokeme. All Rights Reserved.
Classy J Oct 2019
Hook:
Hero’s and foe’s.
Assigned to roles.
Hero’s and foe’s.
Where Divide and conquer rules. (X2)
Verse: 1
Uh, check it!
Centripetal force coursing through the veins,
Mixed with henny, speeding through multiple lanes.
Rudimentary devil, spewing coarse language defying parental guidelines.
Villain of the century, swooning hearts whilst dismantling traditional racist designs.
Such craftiness, isn’t it wild?
That our worlds filled with such nastiness.
Bringing truth brought forth from past experience.
Yet people still look at me like some incompetent child!
But I’ll continue fighting,even if I end up like John Coffey from the Green Mile.
Plunging propaganda down the toilet,
Expunging paraphernalia that has left us exploited.
That’s why you shouldn’t underestimate an apple.
Classiness defiled, how vile, engulfing youth into the Bermuda Triangle.
Barracuda coming for ya,
In order to scramble the status quo.
A hero seen as a foe,
Misunderstood like Edgar Allen Poe.
A hero seen as a foe.
Misunderstood like the edge lord shadow.
Hook:
Hero’s and foe’s.
Assigned to roles.
Hero’s and foe’s.
Where Divide and conquer rules. (X2)
Verse:2
Chaos stems from abuse of power,
That will burn us like a fire power up flower.
But once that power is stripped away,
All your left with is scared little cowards.
So, why do we continue being submissive to these rat *******?
Why don’t we question their status of master?
That wasn’t achieved but ascribed to fit dominant factors.
Making slaves of those they deem as common denominators.
Thinking they are the Luke skywalker’s of the story,
But are actually the Darth Vader’s.
Thinking those oppressed will simply forgive them if they say sorry.
Well, sorry but come back when your ready to change policies.
Ready to change racist terminology.
Ready to tax the wealthy and give it to the rest of our struggling economy.
Ready to make the curriculum honest.
You want our trust.
We want laws and legislation to not be racist and biased!
Ultimately, we are calling for justice!
We should no longer be foes.
Don’t ya know?
It’s not to late to become a hero.
Don’t you know?
We are all just misunderstood like Edgar Allen Poe.
Don’t ya know?
We are all just misunderstood like the edge lord shadow.
Hook:
Hero’s and foe’s.
Assigned to roles.
Hero’s and foe’s.
Where Divide and conquer rules. (X2)
brandon nagley May 2015
Mothers and fathers/ by me.. Mother and dads did you not get attention? Starved and craved your high fixtures to much? Nothing's enough!
For you have little kings and queens who study your every move! For you shall be them, they as you!!
Both walking blindly to the materialism in front of you, how hard shall it be to show kin fullest respects! Get yourself in check!!!
Young girls seek for daddies, boys pass by in caddis, fixated on **** life!!!Not right!!!
Did we forget the next in line of blood? Where money can't buy love and Chemical pills will not ****** happiness! Sinful craftiness..
Mothers take your little one by her hand! Father show your son the ten commands, and lead them the right way! You went asstray!!!! Forgetting the own skin coat you've created.
brandon nagley May 2015
Does it shine?
Thine soul that is,
Is it blind, in rewind to remorse, anger and craftiness?
Doth it provoke?
For the devil can do that to!
Art thou up in smoke, riding the cool waves pool!
Dragged down, soaked and heavy!
A glamour shimmers with no error.
For none are fairer.....
Its true self shows when the crowd has dissapeared!!!
Emeka Mokeme Jul 2019
Watch your words
so you  don't
hurt ones you love.
Speak gently and
softly as only
the heart where
God dwells can utter.
As an exalted being,
speak with love,
not the craftiness
of a deluded
cunning mind.
Words of deception
is like cancer,
it spreads.
Do not use
high handed words
to confuse the mind,
speak as simply plainly
as it is.
Because all of
your heavy words
weary the heart
to stupor.
If whatsoever you
want to say
is not better
than silence,
one should keep quiet.
The words that
just left your mouth
to the ones you
claimed to love
reveals the hidden intents
of the heart
where your spirit dwells.
Check and filter
your words
before you let
them go on
an errand of
peace or destruction.
©2019,Emeka Mokeme. All Rights Reserved.
Chuck Kean Apr 2022
The Thieves That Steal Your Happiness

    You can be happy
I know that it’s true
And I know being happy
Is better than being blue

Sometimes life can be bad to you or
There’s darkness from your past
These are moments that come and go
No need to make them last

Find a reason to smile
And never look back
Always get back up after being knocked
Down from a surprise attack

When bad things happen you
Gotta find a way to let it go
You can take it from me
I tell you it’s something that I know

Bad things can become a darkness
They can destroy you with their craftiness
Don’t let this or your past become the
Thieves that steal your happiness

Written By:Charles Kean
Copyright © 04/19/2022
All rights reserved
cheryl love Feb 2016
One horse said to the other
"How come you have only one ear"
The horse replied "I don't bother
I can hear you loud and clear"

They were in the last race, the gun went off
The first horse shot off like the bullet did
The other horse just gave a loud cough
crept sideways and in the hedge it hid.

It waited till he heard the hot snorts
and the sound of busy hooves on the track
and then with all the craftiness it supports
he joined the horse race at the back.

The others were tired, thirsty and worn
he was not, he was full of the joys of spring
he made it to the front without even being warm
He was as cool as a cucumber, victory had everything.

"Where did he shoot from and how come he won,
He sprinted from nowhere, in fine form and in top gear"
"Well" said the winning horse, when it is all said and done
there is something to be said for having just one ear"
Brainstorm cometh, damning frontal hemisphere
jamming lookout, noggin perched, roiling thinking
uber wayfaring zealot, drills legendary phalanx.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Writer's block afflicts Das scribe,
     who **** now stricken supine
     adept dull livery sub par excellence
     his gold standard worse

thus, another day
     to slog thru arduous process
     crafting admirable verse
wrestling behemoth loosed ******
     dodging enfilade broadcast sos terse.

N'er easy chore to fashion
     acceptable word worth poem to whit
staring at flickering
     accursed cursor doth blank stare visit

flash flooding warning saturated
     gray matter fist sized unit
groundswell burgeoning leveed banks
     barging signals transmit

urgent army corps of engineers
     to reroute via sluice, sans surfeit
apprentice longshoreman
     doth double duty

     as grammarian sought to retrofit
arduous struggle ensues, where drowning
     affects consummation
     strong temptation quit

ditch ching progress made,
     thus far in hot pursuit
mind comfortably numb
     stream of consciousness

     submerges concentration
     entrenched deep posit
craftiness sentenced to punctuate
     disequilibrium doth outwit

venerably beaded trademark
     Scottish matted flair
     abandoned unfinished poem
     left forever stranded orbit
     zero escape velocity

zinging, unsprung,
     pinging mindscape nonprofit
able endeavor reflecting zeitgeist
     bombarding Messerschmitt
undermining, strafing, disabling
     cutting crew rescue outer limit
faint feint blinking in the twilight zone.
brandon nagley Jun 2015
Does it shine?
Thine soul that is,
Is it blind, in rewind to remorse, anger and craftiness?
Doth it provoke?
For the devil can do that to!
Art thou up in smoke, riding the cool waves pool!
Dragged down, soaked and heavy!
A glamour shimmers with no error.
For none are fairer.....
Its true self shows when the crowd has dissapeared!!!
Childhood campy chimera curtain call
subsequently hinting (based on accuweather)
the approach of blizzard squall
so burrow under quilted cover y'all
until warm temperatures arrive when springtime
ushers social media platforms
buzzfeeding earthlinked instant karma
jump/kickstarting linkedin outlook
twittering romance in the air that's zall
mother nature holds in store
after Old Man Winter
(lame as a duck this year)
attempts to make one last hooha.

Arctic bitter dead of winter cold
ice sole ace shun finds solitudinarian
to ******* (not prematurely)
shiver me timbers
cursing fate (and diagnosis of
schizoid personality disorder) for being alone
while polar vortex deep sub zero temperatures
freezes each lovely bone
excellent existential prized memory
swimmingly recalls boyhood

listening to drone
of various and sundry
en deer ring fauna
extant amidst greensward,
where imagination hath flown
to imaginary Eden lyft ting
uber a maize zing ears
cocked while doodling towards
Mother Nature's petsmart crafted chorus
flushing out soundcloud

queen of happy campers
with bees zee winged
wonders as they hone
suite tracks unstinting
well crafted aural presentations
intended to entice
a mate opposite jejune
targeting their search
nsync with one or another
favorable counterpart, this buzzing

destiny could favor a loon
or some other apropos biological entity
(or perchance if desperate
to mate) **** sitter
another species including the manifestation
of microbes on the moon
whereat boys and girls bounding,
exclaiming, and yelping
joie de vivre asper when counselors
blow whistle call at high noon
hour of day iz lunch, thence resuming

their made up fun and par lore games
such as knight in shining armor
dashing off to save
damsel in distress signaling
heroism asserts itself really soon
sans SOS and favorite ringtone
(emulating Fisher Price) tune
of potential prince
where young love doth Flickr
oblivious to a similar situation, aye lichen
to avast Marcy's playground.

Such panoply a prediction
forecast by Doctor Punxsutawney Phil
a blue oyster cult meme burr
thus, in layperson terms
six more weeks of winter for 2023 -
so stay warm to stave off feeling offal
bodes ill for species who clamor for warmth -
supposed tell tale shadow

spelt "N+I+L+L"
and remain in hibernation
if opportunities allow,
and be thankful for not bing forced to mill
around seeking warmth
(case in point a street person),
but ye and the big or 'lil
body of warm flesh adjacent to thee

(this day and age -
unlike stereotypical storybook account
about Jack of all trades and Jill
exhibiting traditional garb
many kin did instill  
gender preference a moot factor),
or take stock, stock and barrel,
how other creatures great and small

burrow underground under a hill
(shaped like an upside down pineapple)
or reef amphibians, mammals, reptiles...
instinct can remain
20,000 Leagues Under The Sea
a fictitious place evoked by Jules Verne,...
hmm...maybe he might breathe
courtesy of an atavistic gill,
who would downplay brouhaha
to avoid any cavil;
nevertheless any objectionable content
forward complaint to yours truly
stating point of view
before the end of April.
Samantha Wesley Oct 2021
The boy with the curly black hair from room 1402 zippered his dark puffer jacket as he pushed the door open. The air outside was chilly, the temperature flirting with the goosebumps on his neck. He ran his right hand through his curls as he walked with intention toward the intersection, looking both ways before crossing Spruce Street. Behind him glowed multicolored lights provided by the LED setup of his fellow neighbors on floor 14.
The Financial District was always calm at night, and that’s what he loved most about it. He smiled to himself as he roamed the streets, reminiscing on the promising outcomes of nights past. As he made his way toward Stone Street, he shed the skin of Zachary Taylor and slithered into Jackson Jones. Becoming Jackson was Zach’s favorite part of his nightly routine. Jackson had a winning smile and charming personality. He had money to throw away and designer clothes. Jackson didn’t have a mother in a mental institution or a father who had ended his own life. Jackson had two sisters and a brother, and they all vacationed in the South of France. Jackson had a Summer home in Florence and a Winter lodge in the Swiss Alps.
His mantra was interrupted by a blurry figure crossing his path. A beautiful girl with light brown hair and doe eyes glanced at him for a second before blushing and continuing on her way. This would be his prey for the night.
“Hey, my friends and I are going to Mad Dogs for a tower and some guacamole, want to join?”
This simple invitation always made women feel at ease and intrigued, instead of suspicious and threatened. Zachary knew that she would join him to eat, and after a few drinks he would look at his phone and tell her that his friends had cancelled, but that he was having such a good time with her and didn’t want the night to end. He would beckon her to come see the amazing view of the Brooklyn Bridge from his dorm room and she would happily oblige.
Walking into the front lobby of 1 Pace Plaza, Zachary nodded at the security guards who returned a smirk and a subtle shake of their heads. He lived for these small exchanges, these small stamps of reluctant approval from the men who went along with his routine every night.
Towards the beginning of his freshman year, they used to stop him and make him sign each guest in with a photo ID, but they grew to appreciate his craftiness and simply let him escort a new woman into the building every night.
The girl next to him gave a small wave to the security guards and a smile. Pete, the security guard who usually high fived Zachary as he walked the girls out of the building, had a peculiar look on his face. Zachary assumed it was due to the wave his date had given them. Usually the girls he brought in avoided eye contact with the guards and followed him to his room. This girl seemed different.
Tara, she had said her name was, lived “somewhere downtown” but hadn’t specified a location, and Zachary hadn’t pressed her. After all, he didn’t need to know where she lived, or even her last name. She was just his partner for this Thursday night, or rather, she was Jackson’s partner for the night.
He had told her that he was a New York native, which couldn’t have been further from his true upbringing in Miami. He couldn’t quite remember where she said she was from, but that didn’t bother him. It was always easier when there was no emotional attachment.
Tara walked confidently toward the elevators, and Zachary wondered if she had been to the building before. Maybe she was friends with a student, or had a previous rendezvous with another tenant of the dorm tower. Either way, he didn’t want to know.
The elevator was heavy with tension, and Zach wondered if the pressure would cause the doors to pop open while rising.
A ding signaled their arrival at the 14th floor, and Zach again morphed into Jackson, opening the door for Tara, ever the gentleman. Her eyes widened as she saw the glowing lights from the city below. “Wow, this view really is romantic. How did you say you got this room again?”
Zach shifted his weight between his feet. He caught himself and steadied his nerves.
“It’s my friend’s place, I’m just watching it for him while he’s gone.” Jackson answered coolly. She nodded, seeming satisfied with his answer. Zach chuckled internally at her admiration of the view, knowing she would never see the room again after this night.
M G Hsieh Feb 2017
Poetry is a dog's work,
writing is a phase to lose.

There is no food in principles,
the principle is in the food.

To forge without craftiness,
an utter waste of labor.

History is a fool,
vanity is now.

*There is no recollection.

The word spoken in silence
already is.
Emeka Mokeme Jun 2018
It is on my knees that I win my
battles against all odds.
On my knees daily is where my missile
is located to win my adversaries.
Sword of the spirit drawn against all craftiness and manipulations of the evil intruders who messes with me
and those i love.
It is from sitting on the shoulders of this gentle giant who lifts me up from this valley that i climb my mountain.
From this mount of God i conquer.
Is there fear in the heart of man,
to that yes there is i must say.
But there is no fear in the heart of man when confronted by his truth even in the face of death when he is fully convinced.
His boldness and fierceness will drive him more to do the impossible.
He neither fear the advances of evil surrounding him for he knows that something must **** a man.
Fully aware of what must be done,
his mind strengthened by might of his ability, pursue his purpose to meet the expected end.
He will not leave any stone unturned,
for he is thorough in his dealings.
There is no obstacle placed on his way his powers cannot move.
Replenished at all times by the forces beyond him to strive,he forge ahead despite the odds.
Moving with the ability and strength provided for this purpose,
he held onto the sword of the spirit as if it's the last hope to strike and
bruise the dragons head with  all his last breath to give it a deadly blow.
Victory is accorded to such a one who confronts the unknown with help from the Almighty.
©2018,Emeka Mokeme. All Rights Reserved.
Emeka Mokeme May 2019
In this
strange city
where everyone
is corrupt and
must survive
by crooked way.
People around
are suspicious
of themselves.
You also
often think
of the trouble
and tricks of
the cunning
craftiness ones.
To avoid them
is difficult.
Once you give
warmth to the
wrong person,
you lose all.
You will never
know the sound
of the song
of your own
heart and voice.
The infinite beauty
of your essence
will melt away.
But beware of
the quiet man
who always keeps
quiet in the
midst of others.
For while others
speak and blab,
he watches.
And while others
act out their follies,
he plans.
And when they
finally rest,
he strikes.
©2019,Emeka Mokeme. All Rights Reserved.
Emeka Mokeme Apr 2019
This flitting time,
does it actually
really exist
at all as
we know it.
Time is an illusion.
It keeps moving,
without waiting for
anyone.
It is a
respecter of none.
This time used
it's power of
cunning craftiness
and deceived me
because i couldn't
cope with it's
illusory speed,
no one could.
I feel so defeated.
I can't catch up
with this illusion
of time magic.  
The past,present
and the future,
all exists at once
now at this moment.
Depending on
where you are
in your
consciousness.
You can be
anywhere in a
twinkle of a
moment with your
eyes closed.
Traveling to other
places takes you
to other different
time zones,
ahead of you
or still behind.
That place which
you have have been,
now is already
in the past.
Whatever plans you
conceive in your
mind or think
to do now is
in your future.
The things already
done are in
your past and
these can also
be remembered or
momentarily forgotten.
There is only
one absolute present.
The illusion of time
are crafted by
our memories.
This time travels
moves me as
fast as light.
But i live in
the present moment.
©2019,Emeka Mokeme. All Rights Reserved.

— The End —