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 Aug 2015
Peanut
Time after time
In the depths of my soul
Nothing makes me happy
Knowing my heart is mended
Every veins stappled and taped
Rigid crevices filled with cement
Each dominant strats I have endured
Dissing this blood with artificial flavoring

Have you ever seen such gruesome illusion?
Engineering my way to this makeshift completion
And by the time it's done, you won't tell the difference
Ready my tools for I have a confession
Tinkering hearts, that is my profession
S**pectred recondition, deceitful reconstruction
I really am an engineer :3
 Aug 2015
David Adamson
(Villanelle)


It takes patience to wait for the perfect light.
Glance away and the image can disappear.
And sometimes the background isn’t quite right.

The moment missed is like a face out of sight
That against all logic we hope will appear
From around a corner, bathed in perfect light.

Or a pause in the music on a moonlit night
When hesitating lips touch, and love leans near,
But voices whisper that something’s not right.

Technology offers consolation in its sleight
Of hand:  Digitally correct the analog here
And now
, counterfeit the perfect light.

Yet we want more than the mastered byte.
We want the flash between the waiting and the souvenir,
The instant when self and spectacle fuse, reality felt right.

And so we hold on to what’s passing out of sight,
The collision between soon and too late, the sheer
Thread connecting to the perfect light
In which the background is precisely right.
 Aug 2015
elizabeth capital
When life knocks you down! Stay down play dead, maybe it won't see you.
Legit advice lol.
A fine gentleman,
noble in reasoning and formally dressed,
infinite in faculties and technology,
in form and moving how express and admirable,
in action like an angel,
in apprehension like God,
the beauty of the world,
the paragon of all animals,
However life is a tedious told tale,
vexing a dull ear of a drowsy man,
a man without Christ,
lost like a prodigal son.

They have sinned against him,
they fall short of the Glory of God,
they ignored and ran away from his law,
but still there is hope on the cross.

He came to redeem us from all the curses,
Saved by the son not by the slave,
he loved the world through his son,
even when our sins are red like cardinal,
as red as scarlet,
they shall be as white as snow.

Through the faith of our father Abraham,
we are saved.
Faith in Christ we are healed,
faith in Christ we are forgiven,
there is hope in Christ.

Rise from the past brother,
its holding you down.
This moment is that matters the future now,
with Christ Jesus life will be amazing,
you will be thrown in the sea of forgiveness,
whatever you have done,
the punishment was put on Christ.

Its never late for Christ,
his love is deeper than an ocean floor,
run into his arms like an open door,
You will never come under his condemnations,
Satan and his accusations,
This is the time,
that you make heirs while the sun shines,
because time and tide waits for no man .
Romans 10 vs 9 "If you declare with your mouth, “Jesus is Lord,” and believe in your heart that God raised him from the dead, you will be saved"
 Aug 2015
Sourodeep
The moon is now bright and full
showering silver romance,
to the leaves of tree so dull.

A cricket humming his chants
deep in meditation behind
the dark unknown shrub's branch.

Somewhere in a nest, a hatchling can't sleep
letting out feeble hunger cries
her mother did not fetch enough to feed.

While on my walk, I see those eyes
hiding behind a trunk, peeping
I assure it safety, I know may be lying

Night is the time for them to be,
struggling to enjoy independence and security
this unending night leading them to the unknown
what will remain I wonder at the crack of dawn.
What future can we give to these plants and animals, we have already invaded every inch of land and air.
 Aug 2015
Vernon Waring
Drew was an artist who knew
That self-portraits were easy to do
She posed nearer and nearer
To her studio mirror
And it was there where Drew drew Drew
when problems are tangled you down
just always remember the basic

+ (add) positivity
- (subtract) negativity
/ (divide) your blessings
(multiply) your goodness

©IGMS
 Jul 2015
Heavens-Rain
Got into some trouble
Said some things
Offended some people
Things got bad
Thought I'd get away from it all
Went up on a mountaintop
By myself
Alone
Clear blue skies
Silence all around
Beautiful cloud formations
I can breathe
Smiling for no good reason
Sat down to reflect
Up her alone got rather crowded
Memories on my left
Voices on my right
Both saying the same thing
You can't run
Had to face facts
Some call it conscious
 Jul 2015
David Adamson
Why do poets and photographers love fleeting things?
Angled shafts of sunlight piercing a mass
of clouds. A rainbow flashing from dragonfly wings.
Water drops beading like shards of glass.

The fluttering shape of a sycamore’s shade.
The sun sinking into its reflection
In a purple bay.  Smoke’s shadow. The rayed
Curve of a finger reaching for perfection.

Whatever churns, bursts, rocks, flies,
Foams, flickers, roils, evades
In pigments of impermanent dyes
We try to fix before it fades

Once I mourned the endless dying  
Of here and now, the present always past
Elegized each moment, sighing
Beauty is loss and can never last.

But now I think I had it wrong.  In fact
(I learned this from an artist’s eye)
Fleeting beauty reappears faster than we react,
At the speed of a daydream flashing by.

All around, light coalesces into form,
Form explodes into light,
And we live lavishly inside this storm
If we can learn to see it right.

Beauty multiplies, tapering, swelling:
Reshaping, reforming, now familiar, now strange.
This gaudy blur in which we’re dwelling
Is the permanence of change.
This is still a work in progress.  Comments very welcome.
Where is the transformers
for the total transformation of this world,
from its disguise and evilness,
to the nature in which it was meant to be,
the nature of peace, love and joy.

Where is the place for peace,
when the hunger for love is more than the hunger for bread,
when cruel leaders are replaced by cruel leaders,
when poverty and diseases proliferated Africa,
when sin is now regarded as good,
Where is the place for peace.

When is the time for restoration,
if time is spend to look for money instead,
if evil is advancing with time everywhere,
if the time for war haven't known its pinnacle,
if time for peace is smaller than a drop water in a tank,
if yesterday, today and tomorrow are always bringing tears in the eyes of the innocent,
When is the time for restoration,

Where is the transformers
for the total transformation of this world
from its disguise and evilness
to the nature in which it was meant to be
the nature of peace, love and joy
Spate of inspiration for Global turn up @ Facebook.com
compliments to all loved ones
 Jul 2015
Fi
what i cant understand
is how people can write poetry about the flowers
or the sunshine
it just seems so irrelevant
when there are so many more beautiful things to write about
like your dainty, thin, long fingers
and the way your lips emit a tiny bit of air when you pronounce ‘th’ words
your towering, awkward, bony body
loosely, limply entwined in mine
that make up your gentle, comforting hugs
how melodic your voice is, almost lulling me to sleep
your contagious, animated smile

how you write as if embroidering the pages
gracefully, an art
and the words float mid-lines
reflecting how your thoughts float among the clouds
doolally detonations of enigmatic pure excitement  
over the most extraneous of matters
your eyes, the captivating bluish-steel of a mid-winter night sky
their flare, and the way they light up when you maunder lovingly of such passions

alas perhaps, poetry about plants or the weather are just as beautiful
but i
would not know
for even the planet, and nature
and sheer beauty of life
seems pale
in prejudiced comparison to your radiance
and how bright you make
my insides feel
Written last summer about my best friend.

I titled it 'bias among the tulips' because I wrote it after going on a walking tour in Amsterdam, on holidays. I learned about 'tulipomania' during the Dutch Golden Age, and how they were the most valuable things available, even worth more than land at the peak of the market in their time. They were treasures. Tulips were everywhere all over Amsterdam. In fact, the whole place was covered in flowers, really. It was beautiful. Alas, my best friend was still much more beautiful as a human being. He was worth more to me than any tulip could have been worth. Between them, the decision was obvious, hence, to me, I'd always have a bias view even amongst the captivating, rich tulips of The Netherlands.
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