Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
 Nov 2014
wordvango
before the last breath I ask am I forgivable?
I in strength forgave those who laughed
i in weak times spat in their face
I was formidable in me.
I saw beauty, I played the recess with melody,
i forsook those who loved me. I gave, at
times what I did not have, I shared tears and cried and felt.
I carried those who could not walk.
Then, they carried me.
I fell down, got up. I went down to the valleys,
up  the hills,
played when I should have been working.
Lost I was most of life. I never lied down.
I had red in my veins, given by destiny, terrors at night,
visions. Deciding was hard, to be me.
I share with you my inner self
honestly.
.
 Nov 2014
Helen
sometime, last night, I wrapped the sheet that was trapped between our heat, around my slender hips, across my bared chest and I tiptoed across the floor, to the door, that took me down the quiet hall and into the kitchen, where memories of our last fight sat congealing on the bench and on the floor, in between the broken wine bottle and the knife standing on its tip, embedded in the breadboard.
Last night, my love burned to ashes on a pyre of self loathing and bitter sweet regrets as I undressed and laid myself before you like dessert, even though the meal was less fine, and you whispered over and over you're mine and each heartbeat, last night, was for you, each whimper borne from pain, from shame, without a name, last night, it was all for you...
Last night you broke me, last night you spoke to me in ways that will always remain my terror, where you are the demon, ever ruling forever, my secret domain.
Last night, as I ghosted through the door, wrapped in our sweat stained sheet, a whisper beneath my feet and my soul dragging behind me like a long lost sheep...
I entered the kitchen and ignored
the evidence of our last hope and reached out a steady hand toward the breadboard.

This morning, I am a brand new woman
November mist wraps a wet blanket
as I walk the falling day’s labyrinth
beneath neuronic trees of a waking forest
along a river dying in hyacinth!

the boatman sings a home going song
floats happy at the end of the ride
the river is narrow a few furlong
and his home is on the other side!

oil lamps flicker from the bank huts
winds carry their laughter and cries
grow darker tree barks as darkness shuts
all but the sky’s heavy sighs!

I hasten to escape this melancholic gloam
an alien in this forbidding night
the boatman must have reached his home
and the river is lulled in starlight!
 Nov 2014
Traveler
Two very large steps forward
Was a bit too fast for our country
It exposed our sad truths

Racism trumps good sense
It doesn't matter how far
Obama brought us
Out of Bush's mess
He is demonized for being black
Oh but how our officials deny
Such accusations...

The majority of us are in fact
Superstitiously-impaired
Yes (Although it angers people)
Religion and superstition
Share the same definition
The belief in something with no proof

The separation of church and state is an illusion
It bleeds through our government
In the most illogical ways

I believe there is a high probability
That a higher power exists
Unlike
Christianity and Islam
I don't believe
Everyone who doesn't share my beliefs
Is doomed to an eternal suffering...

I believe in peace, mercy, compassion
And dignity
For all my fellow earthlings
My hope is that all find meaning
In the only thing that is for sure
The here and now...

As slow as the process is
Evolution exists
It saddens me when we take large steps backwards...
 Nov 2014
Traveler
Raw passion so intense it intoxicates
Captured in a moment of no escape
Two lovers erupt in heated naked bliss
One spark from her eyes and the fuse is lit

Brush of skin and an electric charge ignites
******* *****, chill bumps take flight
The scent of pheromone impairs the senses
The fulfillment of desires, the unspoken consensus

Take in deep, that driving heat
Perspiration flows, dampened sheets
Saturated in lust and no regrets
Life is awesome I must confess...
Traveler Tim

Re to 08-17
 Nov 2014
Poetic T
I walked around the corner, some
Random street, then I saw you
Walking,
Advancing
Pacing
Towards me. I ran only a second
To turn another for my stride to pick up.
   But it was to late you cant out run a
Bullet, it has a target when fired,
The gun easy, but the shot,
Penetrated,
Pierced,
Ripped,
In to me body, it felt numb then
Exploded in pain,
Blood rushing through my body exiting
From my wound, gushing blood
My clothes now stained.
   Why me is it because of the run,
I saw it in the trousers sticking
Under the jacket, I just didnt want to the one,
The one robbed,
Or shot for fun,
   But my mistake has cost me,
My body going into cold shock
Over taking my senses,
The last word I hear is
"Why you run"
"Your no one fool"
If you,d walked on by this wouldn't have happened,
The last regret before I die.
My mistake was the run,
Now I am cold as life drains upon the cold floor.
 Nov 2014
wordvango
In this service, i will pronounce a disservice,
too many.
I vocalize "YHWH" as "WE",  
here it goes:
True, the Bible, the Koran will not agree:
The Egyptians and Greeks were so sure
of their  beliefs.
I see us all a part of polytheistic sanctity.
No apples eaten no Satan.
Only two parts of the same religion, front
and back, all sharing Hell.
We all are descended from Adam.
Who the ever He was.
We descend from unity to here to learn the tragedies, the humors, the other side of Heaven. If we learn, get the message,
we return to our oneness.
Our Atoms
our Us,
again part of the,
We.
 Nov 2014
Nat Lipstadt
Until a man is nothing,
God can make
nothing out of him*

Martin Luther
~~~~~~~~~~~~~

instant recognition
compete cognition
slowing respiration

sanity instantaneous
weeping hands clap
weakened legs collapsing

process endless
access, risen,
only to rejoin
the fallen

father of father clock pendulum
swung swing swung
slowing rapidity
body directed onto
perpetuity road

back to nothing
from whence
the boy witnessed
the first of many of
his genesis/bereshit

from nothing to
another thing,
crowned,
enthroned pauper,
trampled down
to lowly lord,
King of Nothing

reborn reborn reborn
so many times
when from nothing
risen to an exalted
nothing
more
than ever obvious
he,
heir apparent
to himself
no thing

nothing

in the beginning
nothing in the end
nothing
in between
from admixture
water and ashen soil
remake myself a
present to Him
an accomplishment
man-generation
peaking excellence,
Dante ascent to
nothing

then struck down,
back to nothing returned,
peaks and valleys
directional interchangeable
pointers to return resurrected
same way to the previous ending

for all prior writ
better
instant recognition
compete cognition
slowing respiration

the vanity not
voyage yes is
the thing itself,
is circular
a line of points
connected

nothing
no thing
but the voyage/path is the
thing

transformation
resubmission
substantiation

there in lies the only
thing
you making
God into
something
tangible
by making yourself
from nothing
once again



11/1/14
Ecclesiastes 1

1 The words of the Preacher,[a] the son of David, king in Jerusalem.

2 Vanity[b] of vanities, says the Preacher,
    vanity of vanities! All is vanity.
3 What does man gain by all the toil
    at which he toils under the sun?
4 A generation goes, and a generation comes,
    but the earth remains forever.
5 The sun rises, and the sun goes down,
    and hastens[c] to the place where it rises.
6 The wind blows to the south
    and goes around to the north;
around and around goes the wind,
    and on its circuits the wind returns.
7 All streams run to the sea,
    but the sea is not full;
to the place where the streams flow,
    there they flow again.
8 All things are full of weariness;
    a man cannot utter it;
the eye is not satisfied with seeing,
    nor the ear filled with hearing.
9 What has been is what will be,
    and what has been done is what will be done,
    and there is nothing new under the sun.
10 Is there a thing of which it is said,
    “See, this is new”?
It has been already
    in the ages before us.
11 There is no remembrance of former things,[d]
    nor will there be any remembrance
of later things[e] yet to be
    among those who come after.
 Nov 2014
wordvango
Ever wonder where  a cowboy's stares  
lead him looking off into all those sunsets,
those puffy clouds on the range
arranged in crimson glory,
he feels , but,
puts on his cowboy hat,
and hides his eyes and dreams

He looks off, a song humming,
recalling a girl so long gone,
expresses his toughness, by that tear you never see.
Rides alone the prairies, him and his steed.

His dusk is all life long. He is tough, granted.
He has a poem inside, tearing him apart.

And, keeps on riding.
 Nov 2014
r
we are losing in a gulag
of our choosing

the un-predict-
ability of liberty

an extraordinarily poor
rendition of a system

where oaken-ed cloaked
murderous crows caw foul

jumping at every
shadow of a shadow of

a shadow nears to turn to turn
to turn the clock back years

election day is tuesday
- rue the day sweet liberty.

r ~ 11/1/14

*much at stake
\¥/\
  |      **VOTE!**
/ \
 Oct 2014
The Messiah Complex
the word pursue
is such a peculiar word
to use to describe the role of
a male in a relationship

It suggests the woman
is running away
and doesn't wish
to be caught

I understand the concept of
playing hard to get
but at some point the chase usually ends
and both people surrender

*but you've never stopped running
aren't real.

Love is only an ideal
a belief we live
and never achieve.

But love stories we need.

Only its conjured spirit
makes some sense

of our existence!
Next page