Annie Borisuk: Favorites

Jun 2015 Annie Borisuk

Anchor

Jun 2015 Annie Borisuk

Ryan Galloway

Anchor

An anchor, is my soul
Resting in placid waters
Steadfast in its hold
On my restless heart
For it knows
The places to remain and those to depart
As I am subject to the moving forces of the world
Being a ship resting over the deep
And though the distance between
My soul and me
May grow and shrink
I find peace knowing that
Though we may lie leagues apart
My soul stays grounded as my heart drifts so far
An anchor, is my soul
set aflame by the Holy Ghost

Jun 2015 Annie Borisuk

Holy Ghost

Jun 2015 Annie Borisuk

Ryan Galloway

Holy Ghost

There is within me a fire
I feel it burning from the ends
Of my calloused fingertips
As if it is exceeding my soul
When I recede, it grows
At my end, it echoes
Into the vast unknown
Though unassured I am
In the faith of my hand
I can rest in the known promise of that flame
It warms my soul
As it does all who hold
The communion of its glow
Bringing all people into one
Unified within the Holy Ghost

#christian #spirituality #jesus

Jun 2015 Annie Borisuk

Of Icarus and another suicide

Jun 2015 Annie Borisuk

Liam C Calhoun

Of Icarus and another suicide

She held a red rose
Atop her breast,
Skin and path towards
Motherhood; desires,
Nearly hidden,
But a tempt, attempt,
Shrouded in satin.

Contrary to nature,
I left and let be,
The rose,
But not so subtle skin
So that she could dream
And dream for the both of,
“Us.”

As I’m tired,
So very tired,
Ever present atop an
Even all-knowing that –
There’ll come a time when
My wings tire
And this flight may cease.

She’ll either hold me
Or walk away
And so I wait;
Betting once more on empty,
Once more on, “away,”
And yet another
Suicide without ever dying.

* "DESTRUCT 000, DESTRUCT 0" - Which would be a great name for a poem.

#love #suicide #depression #life #pathetic #failure #luck #acceptance #abandon #destruct

Jun 2015 Annie Borisuk

Fallen

Jun 2015 Annie Borisuk

Ian Cairns

Fallen

In the distance I can hear the preacher man scream Gospel verses to the patrons with ears tried enough to listen.

On this table I meet one hundred ants who didn't know the end would come sooner than expected
Some survivors mourn the table cloth body count.
Others trample on without worry.

Forgive them Father, they know not what they do

Forgive them Mother, they lost fathers and mothers too

The struggle comes not from death but the belief that your fate is greater than the fallen before you.

I watch this congregation.
Hear the prayers of those still struggling to find the most peaceful way to apologize.

And it all stops.
At this time I wonder if heaven can be folded up and shaken out this easily.
If angels ever feel their wings begin to fall this fast.

Jun 2015 Annie Borisuk

Divided

Jun 2015 Annie Borisuk

Will

Divided

We live in a nation being divided by color
each one sees the other
but closed minds seem to cover all the good things
instead of allowing us all to be brothers
they only show the hate said by a few to the others
Love could be such an easy thing, but still I'm afraid
the end will come to us both if we let them force us on each other
In the end we must change and come together
or things will stay like this forever

May 2015 Annie Borisuk

Wisemen

May 2015 Annie Borisuk

M

Wisemen

God gave the wisemen their wisdom,
and to the poets their dreams.
To father and mother, their love for each other
but He left me out, so it seems.

I went around brokenhearted
thinking life was an empty affair
but when God gave me you,
it was then that I knew,
He'd given me more than my share.

these are the lyrics to a camp song that I kept hearing in my dream last night. I didn't write this. sweet, isn't it? it's a bit slow, kind of like a lullaby.

May 2015 Annie Borisuk

10:49

May 2015 Annie Borisuk

Amanda

10:49

You absolutely do not get the honor of burning a numerical value on her self-worth.

You certainly do not get to measure that assumption from the hem-line tailored on her thighs. Or the daring dresses she wore because it made her feel a different kind of beautiful.

She is not asking for it. What she will demand for is neither your attention nor stares. She wants respect.
Can you do that?

Oh, and when you are emboldened by your 'witty' validation that she is a ‘****’ or of promiscuous nature, all down to the clothes she wears on her back.

Don’t.

Cotton stitches against warm skin. (She was enjoying a walk.)

Silk swathes on slightly chilled bones. (She forgot her jacket on a Wednesday night out with friends.)

Thick knits adorn even more layers of cotton. (It was a winter night.)

Their cold lips pursed by the late hour, scream silence.

With that validation, you normalise and excuse the acts of ****, soul-destructing ****** offences.
For you have blamed the victim.

You excuse a depraved psychological state.

The veins that choked from ice and no’s. You have forgotten.

Rapists and ****** offenders do not get the luxury of being excused.

Neither do you, ****.

The anger and frustration I feel at victim-shaming or '****'-shaming.

#**** #jerks