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 Dec 2015
South-by-Southwest
I rode in the black back seat
at the age of three
From Wichita to Selma
in this land where nothing comes free

Across Texas , Arkansas , Mississippi
under stars I dreamed
While a heartbeat
was ever following me

Strange the things we choose
to remember and recall
Are the things maybe trivial
But are another brick in the wall

I lived in Panama City
until I was twelve
Swam with sharks and rays
Fell in love but on it I won't dwell

I ran with wild mustangs
in the wilds of Spokane
Climbed up the Rockies
Trekked the snows in a winter wonderland

I slept in the desert under
the most gorgeous stars
Ate mushrooms and peyote
trying to figure out who I are

But there's no place
No place , like the one
Where you were born

No place
on earth
Can lead you away that's far

There's no where
Like the dirt running
through your veins

There's no place
like the place where
you got your name
 Dec 2015
Kj
dating a writer
is like guessing the weather.
you think you know what you'll get,
but you never do.

you never know
because

she'll create a hero
from your weaknesses

and she'll write a great character,
from every last flaw.

she'll create a thousand plots  
from your worst nightmares.

she'll take every last thing you hate
and create something you'll love.

she'll turn your anger
into confessions of adoration,

and she'll make you,
everything you're not.

but worst of all,
she'll leave you wondering-
is it you she's in love with,
or things she's created from you?

but here's the beauty of it:

if you date a writer,
you'll never die.
 Dec 2015
Louis Brown
Courage is when fear
Has said its prayers
When you need some
Just call on Him upstairs
On your knees
You gain His grace
Oh there's nothing
You can't face
Courage is when fear
Has said its prayers
 Dec 2015
South-by-Southwest
Once a proud land of
of purist words
and poetry .
Now has become the land
where the trolls roam free .
They have caused
the Unicorns tears to flow .
Now they will die within the hour
didn't you know .
 Dec 2015
Cunning Linguist
Unplug the TV.
Turn off the internet.
Going dark is the only thing that we can do.

Whether we know it or not, we are only feeding into these egregores.
We say we want to be informed.
We consider it being educated, cultured, aware.
But for what?

What good does it do to learn about the trials and tribulations around us?
So we can voice our opinion?
So we can say, "I told you so"?
So we can flex a little mental muscle,
playing games of connect the dots,
trying to predict the next big event?

We can watch it all fall apart, sure.
Pop some popcorn. Refresh the page.
Check the latest pinned threads.
But in the end what will it have mattered?
Aren't we all just trying to get the best seats in the house,
So we can watch the world burn around us?

Movements are not going to change anything,
No amount of rioting, protesting, demonstrations, reforms,
Viral videos, shares and likes, subscribers, followers,
You can be the loudest voice in the room but to no avail.

So they'll come for your guns.
What then?

You fight off one, maybe two, rounds of invaders.
They keep coming.
They keep moving in.
Surrounding you on all sides.
Then ****! Your homestead just got WACO'd.

The war drums beat and the trumpets blare.
Bombs bursting in air.
Flags tattered and charred.
The stores are empty.
Your shelves are full.
For how long though?

One year? Five years? Ten year plans?
Then what?

When the soil is irradiated.
The waters contaminated.
The fish and birds and animals long since dead.
So hungry that you'll eat another human being?
Your mother? Your wife? Your son? Your daughter?
Dinner for ravenous wolves?

This really is the apocalypse.
It's not a lightning crash,
but a slow burn.
While the rest of the world denies,
and the angels in heaven cry,
the demons inside of us lie,
Not this time.
Not today.

We made it past this failed prediction date,
Y2K, 2012, Me Tel U Now,
What next?
September 23rd?
Are we really ready if it is?
So you think you can survive the fall,
well be proud and pat yourself on the back.
When the rest of the world is gone,
and only you and your hatred remain,
who will validate your ego then?

When the radioactive fallout pours from the sky,
covering everything in it's murky haze,
toxic winds and acid rain,
a scorched, ransacked and ravaged earth,
this is your inheritance?

Martial law
New World Order
FEMA camps
Economic collapse
Global pandemic
Staged alien invasion
Second comings
False messiahs
Peace and safety,
Woe and destruction

When it comes will you look back and remember these last dying days?
Will you regret following every trending story,
Every false flag media distraction,
Trying to predict and prove and make your point?
Will you feel justified then?
The doom you waited for so eagerly having finally arrived?
Your affairs all in order,
Scott free by the skin of your teeth,
the last of a dying race,
victorious and supreme?

Go outside.
Breathe in the air while you still can.
Hug your wife or husband or children.
Call your brother or sister and tell them you love them.
Put aside petty differences.
Blessed are the peacemakers,
for ONLY THEY shall be called the sons and daughters of God.
This truth seeking superiority profits us nothing.
Vanity,
Vexation of spirit,
Chasing after the wind.

Soon days like these will be just a memory,
Something you'll daydream about,
Only to snap back to a cold and desolate room,
A can of kidney beans,
Three bullets left,
Not enough oil to keep your lamp burning through the night,
Danger around every corner,
Everyone you loved and cared for dead,
The pit in your stomach,
the lump in your throat,
the hope for survival all but snuffed out,
waiting for the rapture,
waiting to wake up from that bad dream

Won't you wish you had done more?
Loved harder?
Forgave sooner?
Given more generously?
It's not too late to start,
Those memories you make today,
Will be the fuel you need to keep going then,
It'll be the only thing keeping you alive,
when all else has already failed.
I DID NOT WRITE THIS. THIS WAS ON A POST ON A THREAD I FOUND ON GODLIKE PRODUCTIONS.COM. I TAKR NO CREDIT OTHER THAN SHAPING THIS INTO A POEM AND SPREADING THE MESSAGE OF ITS CONTENTS THANK YOU
 Dec 2015
Sally A Bayan
(one of the many dances in life)
    10w x 6

If i have in my palms
what i've long wanted

If it slowly disappears
from my grasp
against my will

If i try to catch it
but
still falls down

If i lose it
despite my struggles,
my efforts...and

If...deep inside
i feel
a sense of finality...then

Maybe,
it's not mine to hold
...have to let go.


Sally

Copyright October 2015
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
Angels are indeed visible to the naked eye , they can be found in majestic pose within every precious photograph , work of art or wildflower held by young hands ..
Each drop of rain in a Summer shower is a heavenly host that blesses our very hour ..
A consecrated beam of light impaling the morning fog proclaims the mighty sword of Michael leading the weary through insecurity and darkness ..
An elderly couple that occupies a park bench , children busy with games , laughter , eyes that sparkle with wonder and merriment ..
The carefree chatter of evening songbirds , the Holy Ghost that fill and nurture a wounded heart ..
Nature's morning songs .. The reflection of God's blue eyes caste across a mountain vista duplicate the Choir of Angels performing psalms on the outskirts of Zion , atop the very Walls of Jerusalem , the trumpet echoing across the Earth from the Pool of Bethesda* ...
Copyright December 11 , 2015 by Randolph L Wilson * All Rights Reserved
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