Nothing to; be: in.

A brother from another mother.
Nuff said.

My first REAL friend....
Younger, but wiser.
He accepted hisself.
Because "it" was acceptable.
Better god than I
I wait for his reply.
To see.
If, indeed;
I doeth see.

I hope you never reach
The day
Where you are lost for words
Because they're tangled up in
Agony.

I hope you never reach
The point
Where your innocence of
The world is
Robbed.

I hope you choose
Your friends and
Lovers wisely
So that you never have to
Discover what it feels like
To see those who you believed
Would take a bullet for you
Dance behind the
Trigger.

though the mills of God grind slowly
yet they grind exceeding small
though with patience
he stands waiting
with exactness grinds he all.

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow


for the wicked there's comeuppance
yes, for plagiarist and troll
it may not be in present tense
but evil has its toll

for the greedy human tyrant
for the fat politico
the rich are as a vagrant
trudging through the snow

******, Pol ***, Stalin
Napoleon's Waterloo
in disgrace and fallen
into hell's external stew

the world is a millstone
it grinds fine, or so it's said
born here crying and alone
finally we're dead

don't envy the deceiver
or those who perpetrate
they'll be the receiver
meet poetic Fate

God has a sense of humor
those who blot society
may end up with a tumor
in the end will not be free

those who think they're "first"?
pity the poor fools
they're actually cursed
to be the *devil's tools

there's no skating through this life
they will all be doomed
the scepter is a poison knife
the coffer is a TOMB.


SoulSurvivor
(C) 11/23/2015

Oh to be trending with
Praise never ending
For poems I’ve shared on this site.

Likes and reposts give me
Reason to boast -
Justify staying up through the night.

Notifications are
Cause for elation;
The judges DO like what I write!

But a poem too plain
Causes heartache and pain, and
Is often my poor poet’s plight.

No comments, no hearts,
Silence tears me apart
As the view numbers start to get high.

Doesn’t anyone care?
Is it cause for despair?
Don’t they know how hard that I try?

And who really can blame us?
Our desire to be famous
Is a standard set forth at our birth.

Though it’s narcissistic,
We allow some statistics
To define the extent of our worth.

When I group words together
My soul is the tether;
I am sharing a part of myself.

The peril I fear
Is that no one will hear
As the words gather dust on a shelf.

So when the words are ‘bout right
I choose to quit for the night,
Add some tags, then I hit save and send,

‘Cuz when all’s said and done
We’re just writing for fun,  
Who cares if the **** thing will trend!
PwL   March, 2015

for the hungry
in body, mind and soul
is everybody's business
should be a common goal

"we have ours my poet friend
a special day? indeed...
soup kitchens aplenty
to minister the need"

but the drunkard with his bottle
the druggie with her pipe
may not be all that grateful
may even cuss and gripe

why? you may ask yourself.
it's common. it's not news
let me tell you as a one who knows
i walked in them there shoes
holidays are hard
the addicted have the blues

"they deserve rejection
they are all at fault
they'd pull up their bootstraps
if they were worth their salt!"

but the folks i speak of
have burnt up family. friends.
it is a cycle they can't stop
sans God it never ends

so giving them a dinner
may fill a certain need
but spreading out the Love of God
is an enduring seed

don't talk down to them
if they are ready, share
you'll find they may just listen
and are tired of despair

we do have a burden
we have a heavy load
showing love to the unlovable
where the rubber hits the road

but if i didn't do it
a hypocrite i'd be
that person with the bottle
save God's grace

could be ME.


SoulSurvivor
(C) 11/23/2015