Cant you hear their cries
Of pain. Of suffering.
The echoes of malicious crimes.
Or have we become unaffected by the images
As history repeats itself one more time

Some where down the line
Humanity has been lost
As ignorance prevails, and their conscious dies
Who is left to preserve and protect innocent lives

As we sit watching the events unfolding
And the tears of both young and old
Like the missiles, do they fall

Have the oppressors forgotten, it was these people
who gave them shelter when they were the oppressed
United we were then to end the brutality and maltreatment
Now the tables have turned
We ignorantly refuse to believe it is happening again

For the innocents the fight continues
Their faith and their strength. It never falters
As they take back what is theirs.
Hoping that someone helps and intervenes
Giving back what's theirs, bringing them peace

The fear and dread
The weeping souls
The blessed land
Forgotten and torn

They fight the battle
as we look on
The hourly struggle
of the abandoned ones.


© maria.who

(Comment below please)

Lord:

no bequest requested.
no grant, no teach,
no need or greed asked
just a hey listen up,
if your attention is elsewhere

this is an
all-on-my-own
prayer that
my eyes only utter,
my tongue,
self-silenced,
can only watch
and must approve

in fact,
this is more
of a post
than a prayer,
updating you
on the state
of what we Earth temporaries
call the heart, mind, soul
and even our,
your-designed
crafted carrier,
my body

Mine enemies call me
cursed, embittered,
they are right - but fools,
they are
so much more than wrong,
for in this they err grievous,
for they cannot see their own
bile provisioning their end

ask for no interference
from the sidelines
neither from the
sapphire mother sky
that raised me up gloriously
this morning

nor the emerald earth
that this day
both gives and gets
common bounty
gives me sustenance,
as much spiritual
as grained cereal delights

lest you think this
just one more
me-centric rants,
let us recall this prayer,
is his very own,
prayer of gratitude

woman's head
rests on my chest,
her blonde highlights,
highlight our bed
and our
life

take and tuck her tresses
from eyes and forehead,
gentle them into place,
behind her ear,
and my hand journeys on
to the skin,
flesh of her backbone,
where my fingers
spread wide,
five messengers unique,
advising all of the 120 provinces of her
heart, mind, soul and body,
she is my beloved,
and I pray,
I am hers

learning still to
live with my means,
such as they are,
sometime mean,
sometimes extraordinaire

even this skill,
to express

is a gratitude
that though
comes and goes
like summer breezes
that as now we pray,
cools my AM coffee
while studying the
patterned mystery
of the bay's
Ave Maria waves
from that
dock-by-his-name

where my heart, mind, soul
drink wet inspiration
from the still-oak-tree'd-strong-surfaced waters,
the blue glue of
our common delighted,
uncommon existence

this skill,
at this moment mine,
to share and
not to keep,
for have I not,
been blessed,
by comrades-in-arms
that kneel beside me,
asking, imploring
to be stronger yet,
for their sakes,
for them!
I pray for
best they-can-muster
sustenance of peace
of heart, mind, soul
and body

here now,
my shills,
my failing skills
cannot help express
in new ways,
a gratitude
that has a shapeless shape,
no measurement app enabled
for their comfort,
our comfort,
best grasped as
an unbounded divinity,
how so I wish I could pray for them better

focus this prayer
on the good ones,
who so greatly honor us
with a greater-than-a-creator,
gift glorious of
friendship

this walnut crack'd shell,
this container ship of
heart, mind, soul,
here there,
a few leaks sprung,
no nicotine patches
to cover

this dented car,
this dented body,
new dent every day
from only-you-know-where
still gets me there,

but
other than taking care better,
it plods along and houses
the rearrangement of this prayer's words,
and that is what is called
plenty good enough,
self-sufficient

prayers that are too long
go to the back of line,
so here we be,
but here we do not wait!

for prayers of gratitude
are instantaneous fulfilled,
and thus granted even before
they are completed

You're a dork
I kind of hate you
But gosh, you're cute
I'd really like to date you
You never get the hint
Where are you when I'm alone?
Would it absolutely **** you
To once in a while check your phone?
Are you really that unaware
That my heart beats for you?
That every time I leave my house
I search the city streets for you?
How many different ways
Can I spell it out?
I l-o-v-e you
Without a doubt
You **** me off
More than anyone else around
But when I'm without you I'm lost
And when I'm with you I'm found
I hate that I love you
But it seems that I do
So maybe, just maybe
Could you love me too?

The memories,
Those awful dark times
Will always play.
But this is my prize.
I simply cannot throw it away.
As I glance at it, the pain cuts through me
The hurt washes over me .
Drowning. Suffocating.
I hold it in my palm,
Twiddle it around loosely between my fingers
Flashbacks. Nightmares. Distorted images and figures -
Like a film playing in my mind
Throw it!
No, keep it!
It's yours.
That smooth silver-grey 2 inches of metal
Cool to the touch.
It was your friend. It was your enemy.
It's your pride and your glory.


**© maria.who

(Comment below please)

Your sweet, gentle manner.
Your soft heart.
Your kindness, your concern.

Your shyness, when you blush.
When you're embarrassed.
When you're the one making me blush.

Your humour, your seriousness.
Your smile, your laughter.
The joy. The sadness.
Glistening in your eyes.

The warmth of your body.
The closeness, the proximity.
The firmness of your embrace,
Safe and sound. The reassurance.

You are all that I need.



© maria.who

(Comment below please)