Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
What if the world spun a different way.
And the stars were black ***** in a white sky.
And the moon came out during the day
or if the sun never shined?
would we wonder if things could be different
the way we wonder as they are now?
I see the greedy man
whose only son comes
from a curious wish
for money who he already has.

I hear the believing man’s speech:
if there’s nothing in mind,
we will be safe
behind the golden walls.

I touch the cruel man
whose young face
darkens our sky.

I recognize this ****** man
when I realize this mirror,
reflecting what we must remember.
Hi
Hi...Just the Devil dropping by
Big *** sigh..No longer do I wonder why
Angels burn while Hell does turn
Cold like my heart..still I yearn
Fiction fanatic..My words are my magic
Hair stands up from my static
Hate me lovely..Beautiful is ugly
What eyes behold..go ahead judge me
I want to care..My heart wont dare
Still I look..Can't help to stare
From afar..A distant star
Reality a reflection of what we are
I am here..You are there
I can rip..You can tear
Open up to a fantasy
Door from you straight to me
Twist the ****..Drop on by
Spark up a bowl..We can get high
Vibe together side by side
Inside each other we can't hide
Truth today told me a lie
No good is bye so I say Hi..
M.A.N 6-13-14 This is an odd one but I enjoyed writing it..
 Jul 2014 Pheme Tlakula
Poetic T
He doesn't care, doesn't use a knife,
He prefers the rope as it tightens around
Suffocates,
Struggling,
Final breath of life,
His to play with, to lessen the grip
Return the death to life.
He cry's every time,
Not for the taking or chocking of life,
But he cries that when returned
Relaxed are they, then the grip hardened
Tighter,
Unrelenting,
No breath in or out
Just death,
He cries as they fall limp
Gently put down, no fight left
Crying his tears, falling on their now peaceful face
I'm sorry, you are now released
He has cried so many times.
So many deserve this peace,
To nearly be taken, shown a reprieve
Then to feel the judgment
No breath in,
None released,
Fear the man that cries for he will
Seal your breath within,
Crying each time, for those released.
 Jul 2014 Pheme Tlakula
Paula Lee
Your whispers walk across my memory
begging to be heard by me

I miss you girl, please believe *

They tiptoe across my heart
Leaving colored smudges like abstract art

I Promise I didn't want to part

Memories of your death take over me
making me shake uncontrolably

I'm the Angel watching over you in your grief

Leaving nothing but destruction
of the two of us, life, left only one

Oh! Love, Death was the thief that come.

Oh Baby!
Don't shed those tears over me, I Do Love you past eternity
© July 2002 John L. Stevens

My heart was so heavy
With sadness and sorrow.
The day was so dark
I could not see tomorrow.
Hope seemed so dim
Through the tears that I cried.
I could not see You Lord
The day that s(he) died.

I remembered Your promise
To be by my side.
For always You’re with me
In You I abide.
In the midst of the darkness
Your hand touched my soul.
You drew me so close
And made me whole.

There are times that I cry
Alone with just me.
When the silence comes crashing
Like a storm-troubled sea.
There are times that I laugh now
When I remember the years.
That we shared together
Through the good times and tears.

The peace oh Lord
The memories You bring.
Fills my life with hope
Make my heart strings sing.
Draw me close to Your side
And lead me gently on.
Give me hope for tomorrow
Till the dark turns to dawn.
———
Open my heart Lord
Let out the sorrow.
Pour in your spirit
And hope for tomorrow.
I need Your touch Lord
On my heart this hour.
Fill me with Your love
With Your healing power.
Strange how this happens.
Spring of 2002 unraveled for a friend of mine. His wife got sick, his mother came out to help them and she had heart failure and died in the hospital one floor below where his wife was located. A month later his wife died, he lost his job, a vertebrae in his neck deteriorated, his insurance evaporated. It was Job all over again. We spent many hours of many days trying to make sense of his situation. It seemed pointless. Absolutely hopeless. I can remember a cold fear pouring over me. There was nothing I could do to help him.

I wrote a piece called “Hope for Tomorrow” a couple months later that reflected his loss and my loss when my mother died 1991. Writing is therapy for me. Writing puts on paper a reminder of where I am at that time. The words of this piece points to the loss of a loved one but the thoughts can translate to any loss.

Today he is doing well.  Working in a school district doing IT work. It has been 12 year
Next page