Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
42.9k · Oct 2014
Sa Kabataan Pilipino
Itaas ang iyong noong aliwalas,
Mutyang Kabataan, sa iyong paglakad;
Ang bigay ng Diyos sa tanging liwanag
Ay pagitawin mo, Pag-asa ng Bukas.

Ikaw ay bumaba, O katalinuhan,
Mga puso namin ay nangaghihintay;
Magsahangin ka nga't ang aming isipa'y
Ilipad mo roon sa kaitaasan.

Taglayin mo lahat ang kagiliw-giliw
Na ang silahis ng dunong at sining;
Kilos, Kabataan, at iyong lagutin,
Ang gapos ng iyong diwa at damdamin.

Masdan mo ang putong na nakasisilaw,
Sa gitna ng dilim ay dakilang alay,
Ang putong na yaon ay dakilang alay,
Sa nalulugaming iyong Inang Bayan.

O, ikaw na iyang may pakpak ng nais
At handang lumipad sa rurok ng langit,
Upang kamtan yaong matamis na himig,
Doon sa Olimpo'y yamang nagsisikip.

Ikaw na ang tinig ay lubhang mairog,
Awit ni Pilomel na sa dusa'y gamot
Lunas na mabisa sa dusa't himutok
Ng kaluluwang luksa't alipin ng lungkot.

Ikaw na ang diwa'y nagbibigay-buhay,
Sa marmol na batong tigas ay sukdulan,
At ang alaalang wagas at dalisay
Sa iyo'y nagiging walang-kamatayan.

At ikaw, O Diwang mahal kay Apeles,
Sinuyo sa wika ni Pebong marikit,
O sa isang putol na lonang makitid
Nagsalin ng kulay at ganda ng langit.

Hayo na ngayon dito papag-alabin mo,
Ang apoy ng iyong isip at talino,
Ang magandang ngala'y ihasik sa mundo,
At ipagbansagan ang dangal ng tao.

O dakilang araw ng tuwa at galak,
Magdiwang na ngayon, sintang Pilipinas!
Magpuri sa Bayang sa iyo'y lumingap,
Umakay sa iyo sa magandang palad.
Jose P. Rizal
Education Gives Luster to Motherland

Wise education, vital breath
Inspires an enchanting virtue;
She puts the Country in the lofty seat
Of endless glory, of dazzling glow,
And just as the gentle aura's puff
Do brighten the perfumed flower's hue:
So education with a wise, guiding hand,
A benefactress, exalts the human band.

Man's placid repose and earthly life
To education he dedicates
Because of her, art and science are born
Man; and as from the high mount above
The pure rivulet flows, undulates,
So education beyond measure
Gives the Country tranquility secure.

Where wise education raises a throne
Sprightly youth are invigorated,
Who with firm stand error they subdue
And with noble ideas are exalted;
It breaks immortality's neck,
Contemptible crime before it is halted:
It humbles barbarous nations
And it makes of savages champions.
And like the spring that nourishes
The plants, the bushes of the meads,
She goes on spilling her placid wealth,
And with kind eagerness she constantly feeds,
The river banks through which she slips,
And to beautiful nature all she concedes,
So whoever procures education wise
Until the height of honor may rise.

From her lips the waters crystalline
Gush forth without end, of divine virtue,
And prudent doctrines of her faith
The forces weak of evil subdue,
That break apart like the whitish waves
That lash upon the motionless shoreline:
And to climb the heavenly ways the people
Do learn with her noble example.

In the wretched human beings' breast
The living flame of good she lights
The hands of criminal fierce she ties,
And fill the faithful hearts with delights,
Which seeks her secrets beneficent
And in the love for the good her breast she incites,
And it's th' education noble and pure
Of human life the balsam sure.

And like a rock that rises with pride
In the middle of the turbulent waves
When hurricane and fierce Notus roar
She disregards their fury and raves,
That weary of the horror great
So frightened calmly off they stave;
Such is one by wise education steered
He holds the Country's reins unconquered.
His achievements on sapphires are engraved;
The Country pays him a thousand honors;
For in the noble ******* of her sons
Virtue transplanted luxuriant flow'rs;
And in the love of good e'er disposed
Will see the lords and governors
The noble people with loyal venture
Christian education always procure.

And like the golden sun of the morn
Whose rays resplendent shedding gold,
And like fair aurora of gold and red
She overspreads her colors bold;
Such true education proudly gives
The pleasure of virtue to young and old
And she enlightens out Motherland dear
As she offers endless glow and luster.
17.1k · Oct 2014
Sa Aking mga Kababata
Kapagka ang baya’y sadyang umiibig
Sa langit salitang kaloob ng langit
Sanlang kalayaan nasa ring masapi

Katulad ng ibong nasa himpapawid
Pagka’t ang salita’y isang kahatulan
Sa bayan, sa nayo't mga kaharian

At ang isang tao’y katulad, kabagay
Ng alin mang likha noong kalayaan.
Ang hindi magmahal sa kanyang salita
Mahigit sa hayop at malansang isda

Kaya ang marapat pagyamanin kusa
Na tulad sa inang tunay na nagpala
Ang wikang Tagalog tulad din sa Latin,

Sa Ingles, Kastila, at salitang anghel,
Sapagkat ang Poong maalam tumingin
Ang siyang naggagawad, nagbibigay sa atin.
Ang salita nati’y tulad din sa iba

Na may alfabeto at sariling letra,
Na kaya nawala’y dinatnan ng sigwa
Ang lunday sa lawa noong dakong una.
Jose P Rizal
2.6k · Mar 2015
The House of Fame "Part 3"
On December the tenth day
When it was night, down I lay
Right there as I was wont to do
And fell asleep wondrous soon,
As he that weary was as who
On pilgrimage went miles two
To the shrine of Saint Leonard,
To make easy what was hard.
But as I slept, I dreamed I was
Within a temple made of glass
In which there were more images
Of gold, tiered in sundry stages,
And more rich tabernacles,
And with more gemmed pinnacles,
And more curious portraiture,
And intricate kinds of figure
Of craftsmanship than ever I saw.
For certainly, I knew no more
Of where I was, but plain to see
Venus owned most certainly
That temple, for in portraiture
I at once saw her figure
Naked, floating in the sea.
And also on her head, indeed,
Her rose garland white and red,
And her comb to comb her head,
Her doves, and her blind son
Lord Cupid, and then Vulcan,
Whose face was swarthy brown.
And as I roamed up and down,
I saw that on a wall there was
Thus written on a piece of brass:
‘I will now sing, if that I can,
The arms, and also the man
Who first, pursuing destiny,
Fugitive from Troy’s country,
To Italy, with pain, did come,
To the shores of Lavinium.’
And then begin the tale at once,
That I shall tell to you each one.
First I saw the destruction
Of Troy, through the Greek Sinon,
Who with his false forswearing
And his outward show and lying,
Had the horse brought into Troy
By which the Trojans lost their joy,
And after this was engraved, alas,
How Ilium assailed was
And won, and King Priam slain,
And Polytes his son, for certain,
Cruelly by Lord Pyrrhus.
And next to this, I saw how Venus
When that she saw the castle’s end,
Down from the heavens did descend
And urged her son Aeneas to flee;
And how he fled, and how that he
Escaped from all the cruelties,
And took his father Anchises
And bore him on his back away,
Crying, ‘Alas!’ and ‘Well-away!’
That same Anchises, in his hand,
Bore the gods of the land,
Those that were not burnt wholly.
And I saw next, in this company,
How Creusa, Lord Aeneas’ wife,
Whom he loved as he did his life,
And their young son Julus,
Also called Ascanius,
Fled too, and fearful did appear,
That it was a pity them to hear;
And through a forest as they went,
At a place where the way bent,
How Creusa was lost, alas,
And died, I know not how it was:
How he sought her and how her ghost
Urged him to flee the Greek host,
And said he must go to Italy,
Without fail, it was his destiny;
That it was a pity thus to hear,
When her spirit did appear,
The words that to him she said:
Let him protect their son she prayed.
There saw I graven too how he,
His father also, and company,
In his fleet took sail swiftly
Towards the land of Italy,
As directly as they could go.
There I saw you, cruel Juno,
That is Lord Jupiter’s wife,
Who did hate, all their life,
All those of Trojan blood,
Run and shout, as if gone mad,
To ******, the god of winds,
To blow about, all their kinds,
So fierce, that he might drench
Lord and lady, groom and *****,
Of all the Trojan nation
Without hope of salvation.
There saw I such a tempest rise
That every heart might hear the cries
Of those but painted on the wall.
There saw I graven there withal,
Venus, how you, my lady dear,
Weeping with great loss of cheer,
Prayed to Jupiter on high
To save and keep the fleet alive
Of the Trojan Aeneas,
Since that he her son was.
There saw I Jove Venus kiss,
And grant that the tempest cease.
Then saw I how the tempest went,
And how painfully Aeneas bent
His secret course, to reach the bay
In the country of Carthage;
And on the morrow, how that he
And a knight called Achates
Met with Venus on that day,
Going in her bright array
As if she was a huntress,
The breeze blowing every tress;
How Aeneas did complain,
When he saw her, of his pain,
And how his ships shattered were,
Or else lost, he knew not where;
How she comforted him so
And bade him to Carthage go,
And there he should his folk find
That on the sea were left behind.
And, swiftly through this to pace,
She made Aeneas know such grace
Of Dido, queen of that country,
That, briefly to tell it, she
Became his love and let him do
All that belongs to marriage true.
Why should I use more constraint,
Or seek my words to paint,
In speaking of love? It shall not be;
I know no such facility.
And then to tell the manner
Of how they met each other,
Were a process long to tell,
And over-long on it to dwell.
There was graved how Aeneas
Told Dido everything that was
Involved in his escape by sea.
And after graved was how she
Made of him swiftly, at a word,
Her life, her love, her joy, her lord,
And did him all the reverence
Eased him of all the expense
That any woman could so do,
Believing everything was true
He swore to her, and thereby deemed
That he was good, for such he seemed.
Alas, what harm wreaks appearance
When it hides a false existence!
For he to her a traitor was,
Wherefore she slew herself, alas!
Lo, how a woman goes amiss
In loving him that unknown is,
For, by Christ, lo, thus it fares:
All is not gold that glitters there.
For, as I hope to keep my head,
There may under charm instead
Be hidden many a rotten vice;
Therefore let none be so nice
As to judge a love by how he appear
Or by speech, or by friendly manner;
For this shall every woman find:
That some men are of that kind
That show outwardly their fairest,
Till they have got what they miss.
And then they will reasons find
Swearing how she is unkind,
Or false, or secret lover has.
All this say I of Aeneas
And Dido, so soon obsessed,
Who loved too swiftly her guest;
Therefore I will quote a proverb,
That ‘he who fully knows the herb
May safely set it to his eye’;
Certainly, that is no lie.
But let us speak of Aeneas,
How he betrayed her, alas,
And left her full unkindly.
So when she saw all utterly
That he would fail in loyalty
And go from her to Italy,
She began to wring her hands so.
‘Alas,’ quoth she, ‘here is my woe!
Alas, is every man untrue,
Who every year desires a new,
If his love should so long endure,
Or else three, peradventure?
As thus: from one love he’d win fame
In magnifying of his name,
Another’s for friendship, says he;
And yet there shall a third love be,
Who shall be taken for pleasure,
Lo, or his own profit’s measure.’
In such words she did complain,
Dido, in her great pain
As I dreamed it, for certain,
No other author do I claim.
‘Alas!’ quoth she, ‘my sweet heart,
Have pity on my sorrow’s smart,
And slay me not! Go not away!
O woeful Dido, well-away!’
Quoth she to herself so.
‘O Aeneas, what will you do?
O, now neither love nor bond
You swore me with your right hand,
Nor my cruel death,’ quoth she,
‘May hold you here still with me!
O, on my death have pity!
Truly, my dear heart, truly,
You know full well that never yet,
Insofar as I had wit,
Have I wronged you in thought or deed.
Oh, are you men so skilled indeed
At speeches, yet never a grain of truth?
Alas, that ever showed ruth
Any woman for any man!
Now I see how to tell it, and can,
We wretched women have no art;
For, certainly, for the most part
Thus are we served every one.
However sorely you men groan,
As soon as we have you received
Certain we are to be deceived;
For, though your love last a season,
Wait upon the conclusion,
And look what you determine,
And for the most part decide on.
O, well-away that I was born!
For through you my name is gone
And all my actions told and sung,
Through all this land, on every tongue.
O wicked Fame, of all amiss
Nothing’s so swift, lo, as she is!
O, all will be known that exists
Though it be hidden by the mist.
And though I might live forever,
What I’ve done I’ll save never
From it always being said, alas,
I was dishonoured by Aeneas
And thus I shall judged be:
‘Lo, what she has done, now she
Will do again, assuredly’;
Thus people say all privately.
But what’s done cannot be undone.
And all her complaint, all her moan,
Avails her surely not a straw.
And when she then truly saw
That he unto his ships was gone,
She to her chamber went anon,
And called on her sister Anna,
And began to complain to her,
And said that she the cause was
That made her first love him, alas,
And had counselled her thereto.
But yet, when this was spoken too,
She stabbed herself to the heart,
And died of the wound’s art.
But of the manner of how she died,
And all the words said and replied,
Whoso to know that does purpose,
Read Virgil in the Aeneid, thus,
Or Heroides of Ovid try
To read what she wrote ere she died;
And were it not too long to indite,
By God, here I would it write.
But, well-away, the harm, the ruth
That has occurred through such untruth,
As men may oft in books read,
And see it everyday in deed,
That mere thinking of it pains.
Lo, Demophon, Duke of Athens,
How he forswore himself full falsely
And betrayed Phyllis wickedly,
The daughter of the King of Thrace,
And falsely failed of time and place;
And when she knew his falsity,
She hung herself by the neck indeed,
For he had proved of such untruth,
Lo, was this not woe and ruth?
And lo, how false and reckless see
Was Achilles to Briseis,
And Paris to Oenone;
And Jason to Hypsipyle;
And Jason later to Medea;
And Hercules to Deianira;
For he left her for Iole,
Which led to his death, I see.
How false, also, was Theseus,
Who, as the story tells it us,
Betrayed poor Ariadne;
The devil keep his soul company!
For had he laughed, had he loured,
He would have been quite devoured,
If Ariadne had not chanced to be!
And because she on him took pity,
She from death helped him escape,
And he played her full false a jape;
For after this, in a little while,
He left her sleeping on an isle,
Deserted, lonely, far in the sea,
And stole away, and let her be,
Yet took her sister Phaedra though
With him, and on board ship did go.
And yet he had sworn to her
By all that ever he might swear,
That if she helped to save his life,
He would take her to be his wife,
For she desired nothing else,
In truth, as the book so tells.
Yet, to excuse Aeneas
Partly for his great trespass,
The book says, truly, Mercury,
Bade him go into Italy,
And leave Africa’s renown
And Dido and her fair town.
Then saw I graved how to Italy
Lord Aeneas sailed all swiftly,
And how a tempest then began
And how he lost his steersman,
The steering-oar did suddenly
Drag him overboard in his sleep.
And also I saw how the Sibyl
And Aeneas, beside an isle,
Went to Hell, for to see
His father, noble Anchises.
How he there found Palinurus
And Dido, and Deiphebus;
And all the punishments of Hell
He saw, which are long to tell.
The which whoever wants to know,
He’ll find in verses, many a row,
In Virgil or in Claudian
Or Dante, who best tell it can.
Then I saw graved the entry
That Aeneas made to Italy,
And with Latinus his treaty,
And all the battles that he
Was in himself, and his knights,
Before he had won his rights;
And how he took Turnus’ life
And won Lavinia as his wife,
And all the omens wonderful
Of the gods celestial;
How despite Juno, Aeneas,
For all her tricks, brought to pass
The end of his adventure
Protected thus by Jupiter
At the request of Venus,
Whom I pray to ever save us
And make for us our sorrows light.
When I had seen all this sight
In the noble temple thus,
‘Oh Lord,’ thought I, ‘who made us,
I never yet saw such nobleness
In statuary, nor such richness
As I see graven in this church;
I know not who made these works,
Nor where I am, nor in what country.
But now I will go out and see,
At the small gate there, if I can
Find anywhere a living man
Who can tell me where I am.’
When I out of the door ran,
I looked around me eagerly;
There I saw naught but a large field,
As far as I could see,
Without town or house or tree,
Or bush or grass or ploughed land;
For all the field was only sand,
As fine-ground as with the eye
In Libyan desert’s seen to lie;
Nor any manner of creature
That is formed by Nature
Saw I, to advise me, in this,
‘O Christ,’ I thought, ‘who art in bliss,
From phantoms and from illusion
Save me!’ and with devotion
My eyes to the heavens I cast.
Then was I aware, at the last,
That, close to the sun, as high
As I might discern with my eye,
Me thought I saw an eagle soar,
Though its size seemed more
Than any eagle I had seen.
Yet, sure as death, all its sheen
Was of gold, it shone so bright
That never men saw such a sight,
Unless the heavens above had won,
All new of gold, another sun;
So shone the eagle’s feathers bright,
And downward it started to alight.
By Sir Geoffrey Chaucer
2.5k · Oct 2014
**Three Stars And A Sun**
Three stars and a sun, in one sky, so high,
I live and die and die will I for my
Motherland this is the land of my birth,
No purse is worth the price of this earth
Can we rise, can we all, hell no!,
Or should we all just take the fall?
Bless the man if his heart and his land are one
...3 stars & a sun!
3 stars & a sun! I'm ready to defend the 3 stars & a sun!
Omission to a mission, transport for the brain,
Packed w/ stacks of tracks built for a train,
I eat lead, but I never let it be said,
"He said, she said," it makes me see red
''cause I don't take ******* & I'm 'a pack it and push it,
And hit you w/ the full clip
Switch to mode lock-'n'-load in the land of Juan
...the 3 stars & a sun!
3 stars & a sun! I'm ready to defend the 3 stars & a sun!
"Bahay kubo kahit munti, may pula,
Bughaw, dilaw, atsaka puti"
There is a need to sow the seed,
Toil the soil and plod until your hands bleed
''cause this land is sacred,
Many a battle have been fought with hatred
Don't tell me that you understand,
It's been 4 hundred years of tears
For the brown man,
Still and all the fight has just begun
...3 stars & a sun!
3 stars & a sun! I'm ready to defend the 3 stars & a sun!
This piece is not originally mine, this was composed by a deceased Filipino rapper named Francis Magalona. This is just a tribute to the guy. RIP Francis M.

"For the Philippines"

Farewell to you Master Rapper.
2.4k · Sep 2017
Please tell me whats goin on.
Help me understand what went wrong.
I badly need a full proof explanation.
Look at whats happening to the nation.
Is this the best that the government can do?
People always dying infront of me and you.
Poor families still burried in the mud.
In position still are the ones making the country look bad.
Nobody hears the cry of millions.
Every leader only attends to themselves and takes no action.
Sixteen presidents that didnt have eyes to see the real situation.
The Last Poem of Rizal

Farewell, my adored Land, region of the sun caressed,
Pearl of the Orient Sea, our Eden lost,
With gladness I give you my Life, sad and repressed;
And were it more brilliant, more fresh and at its best,
I would still give it to you for your welfare at most.

On the fields of battle, in the fury of fight,
Others give you their lives without pain or hesitancy,
The place does not matter: cypress laurel, lily white,
Scaffold, open field, conflict or martyrdom's site,
It is the same if asked by home and Country.

I die as I see tints on the sky b'gin to show
And at last announce the day, after a gloomy night;
If you need a hue to dye your matutinal glow,
Pour my blood and at the right moment spread it so,
And gild it with a reflection of your nascent light!

My dreams, when scarcely a lad adolescent,
My dreams when already a youth, full of vigor to attain,
Were to see you, gem of the sea of the Orient,
Your dark eyes dry, smooth brow held to a high plane
Without frown, without wrinkles and of shame without stain.

My life's fancy, my ardent, passionate desire,
Hail! Cries out the soul to you, that will soon part from thee;
Hail! How sweet 'tis to fall that fullness you may acquire;
To die to give you life, 'neath your skies to expire,
And in your mystic land to sleep through eternity!

If over my tomb some day, you would see blow,
A simple humble flow'r amidst thick grasses,
Bring it up to your lips and kiss my soul so,
And under the cold tomb, I may feel on my brow,
Warmth of your breath, a whiff of your tenderness.

Let the moon with soft, gentle light me descry,
Let the dawn send forth its fleeting, brilliant light,
In murmurs grave allow the wind to sigh,
And should a bird descend on my cross and alight,
Let the bird intone a song of peace o'er my site.

Let the burning sun the raindrops vaporize
And with my clamor behind return pure to the sky;
Let a friend shed tears over my early demise;
And on quiet afternoons when one prays for me on high,
Pray too, oh, my Motherland, that in God may rest I.

Pray thee for all the hapless who have died,
For all those who unequalled torments have undergone;
For our poor mothers who in bitterness have cried;
For orphans, widows and captives to tortures were shied,
And pray too that you may see your own redemption.

And when the dark night wraps the cemet'ry
And only the dead to vigil there are left alone,
Don't disturb their repose, don't disturb the mystery:
If you hear the sounds of cittern or psaltery,
It is I, dear Country, who, a song t'you intone.

And when my grave by all is no more remembered,
With neither cross nor stone to mark its place,
Let it be plowed by man, with ***** let it be scattered
And my ashes ere to nothingness are restored,
Let them turn to dust to cover your earthly space.

Then it doesn't matter that you should forget me:
Your atmosphere, your skies, your vales I'll sweep;
Vibrant and clear note to your ears I shall be:
Aroma, light, hues, murmur, song, moanings deep,
Constantly repeating the essence of the faith I keep.

My idolized Country, for whom I most gravely pine,
Dear Philippines, to my last goodbye, oh, harken
There I leave all: my parents, loves of mine,
I'll go where there are no slaves, tyrants or hangmen
Where faith does not **** and where God alone does reign.

Farewell, parents, brothers, beloved by me,
Friends of my childhood, in the home distressed;
Give thanks that now I rest from the wearisome day;
Farewell, sweet stranger, my friend, who brightened my way;
Farewell, to all I love. To die is to rest.
Jose P. Rizal
1.2k · Mar 2015
Jhea Nichole Ann Villanueva
Joyful streaks of light shine from a distant path
Hailing from a world where nothing seem to last
Eager hands for the heart of who we want to reach the most
Absolute power was never a thing to boast

Not a bolt of lightning is enough to pour this hour
If such life is less than what  you expect for a little fire
Calming the beast is not the best of answers
Heave your thoughts and watch rocks from meteors falling in shower
Open your mind and free it from infinite hate
Learn to live a life and start to have fate
Even in sorrow, you can lighten up the weight

All the things that you may think about
Nicely presented in your head, is what to not to doubt
Not a point in reality is there to be sad about

Vicious things may come along the way
Imagine only, that there will be another day
Laugh at every moment while you can
Life is not long enough to live my friend
All is temporary and all is just
Not even your beauty would seem to last
Uncover your truths from all of your known lies
Even if the truth has lies to hide
Vested upon you is your soulful right
All you have to do is to play the game that we call life
For the best the thing that ever happened to me. Jhea Nichole Anne Villanueva. I love you baby.
1.0k · Oct 2017
On a cold winter morning, in the time before the light.
In flames of death's eternal reign, we ride towards the fight.

When the darkness has fallen down, and the times are tough alright.
The sound of evil laughter falls around the world tonight.

Fighting hard, fighting on for the steel through the wasteland evermore.
The scattered souls will feel the hell, bodies wasted on the shores.

On the blackest plains in hell's domain we watch them as they go.
Through the fire and pain and once again we know.

So now we fly ever free, we're free before the thunderstorm.
On towards the wilderness our quest carries on.

Far beyond the sundown.
Far beyond the moonlight.
Deep inside our hearts and all our souls.

So far away we wait for the day.
For the lives all so wasted and gone.
We feel the pain of a life time lost in a thousand days.
Through the fire and flames we carry on.

As the red day is dawning and the lightning cracks the sky.
They'll raise their hands to the heavens above with resentment in their eyes.

Running back through the mid morning light, there's a burning in my heart.
We're banished from a time in a fallen land, to a life beyond the stars.

In your darkest dreams see to believe  our destiny is time.
And endlessly we'll all be free tonight.
And on the wings of a dream so far beyond reality.
All alone in desperation, now the time has gone.

Lost inside you'll never find.
Lost within my own mind.
Day after day this misery must go on.

So far away we wait for the day.
For the lives all so wasted and gone.
We feel the pain of a life time lost in a thousand days.
Through the fire and flames we carry on.

Now here we stand with their blood on our hands.
We fought so hard, now can we understand.
I'll break the seal of this curse if I possibly can.
For freedom of every man.

So far away we wait for the day.
For the lives all so wasted and gone.
We feel the pain of a lifetime lost in a thousand days.
Through the fire and flames we carry on.
907 · Oct 2014
Knights will rise and kings may kneel.
And barons fall from battles that they mill
Truth is, I don't know how to say how I feel.
Real love, perfection of eternal dreams.
Imploding thoughts of uncharted realms.
Never would I forget your face.
And your laughter, echoes within my imaginary maze.

Dreaming of those moments when I'm with you.
Each time I wonder if they can ever be true.
Love, my only notion, is to forever be with you.

Romantic as Beethoven or Claude Debussy.
Over the vast madness of sincerity.
Such desires, and they all grew.
Astounding, like how Picasso drew.
Reminds me of how in my brain, I painted you.
If my feelings ever let me be.
Offering you is my love so true.

Vanity is your face .
Ascending from a great and holy place.
Strength is in your name.
Quested by masters of tactical games.
Unity is your smile
Each day that comes,is like a mile.
Zebus from Camelot will show up in a little while.
774 · Oct 2014
Moments ago in a place called never
On a stage of fear, a frightening fever
Not a minute passed from an hour
In a glimpse of the past that time devoured
Came a man from an unknown movement
And spoke to a few but in the case of disappointment

Made a sense of loneliness for accurate reason
And sang the ballads made from every season
Reached into the crowd and talked about she who he adores the most
The prettiest face for which he could not stop to boast
Her name was never heard before by many
As a matter of fact, you can't compare her to any.

A** woman of such passion and grace
Betrothing every man from their pace
Reigning, a zesty reign
Every king would give her a crown and palace again and again
Now the man stopped from his speech
In a surprising twist, he began to teach
Calmed the people, he started to preach
And that wraps it up, just another story from a man off the beach
749 · Oct 2014
A Poem That Has No Title
To my Creator I sing
Who did soothe me in my great loss;
To the Merciful and Kind
Who in my troubles gave me repose.

Thou with that pow'r of thine
Said: Live! And with life myself I found;
And shelter gave me thou
And a soul impelled to the good
Like a compass whose point to the North is bound.

Thou did make me descend
From honorable home and respectable stock,
And a homeland thou gavest me
Without limit, fair and rich
Though fortune and prudence it does lack.
Jose P. Rizal
747 · Mar 2015
The Road Not Taken
Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim
Because it was grassy and wanted wear,
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way
I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I,
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.
By Robert Frost
716 · Oct 2014
Dominance that is in your gesture,
Encourages me to be in the highest posture.
Naphtha, and you are the love of my means.
In enchanted dimensions and obsolete dreams.
Selfless love and kindness mirrors you.
Equally, like of those creatures, from Timbuktu.

Priceless wealth is like your name.
And unchangeable like when the solstice came.
Romantic as Shakespeare and Mozart.
Careful as Joan of ark.
On some occasions you come to me,
Notion-less, but still with curiosity...
712 · Oct 2014
Saying your name is like singing a melody.
Through grace and rhythmic harmonious symmetry.
Easing every moment in posthumous remedy.
Printed in the stars, your face and your name my lady.
Here I stand, beside your golden throne.
As if the moment will soon be gone.
No single lifetime is more than enough.
If you won't be here with me, in times so tough.
Each moment is like forever, so please leave me, never;

Momentous in your presence, is my heart;
Enchanted, still hoping, though we're worlds apart.
Night may come and dusk may arrive,
Dawn will appear after, and I'll be alive.
Only for one moment in such little time.
Zestful and beautiful may even rhyme.
And you my girl, my woman, my lady, would forever be mine.....
659 · Mar 2015
The Sentence
They said that a sentence is a word or a group of words that expresses a complete thought
Though it sometimes compares to a sanction to a life of imprisonment for things done and ought
With one stroke we write, like steps we learned at the early stages of life
Then we begin to think things through, and begins a story of struggles and strife

We make our own articles as results of the things we do
In  every move we show to enunciate without really thinking things through
Our consonants are the consequences of all the vowels that we made
Though in reality we have more debts in our vowels that needs to be paid

The conjunctions of our uncertainties are left alone in the foggy mist
The verbs and its tenses criticized with the words we used in bliss
We sometimes make and get compliments but not till the final point of this

Life is really just a sentence, through writing or a result of crime
Our society in every book written educated by any prime
You may be from the future, the present or the past
But you will always will have a sentence till the world could last

We have our own grammars and it may be right or wrong
We often use it in a poem or a song
We have our own grammars even from the time of our birth
We have always used it, without knowing for what its worth

Though it is said that a sentence is a word or group of words that has a complete thought
It can also be the final destination of every crime we have ought
This world is also a sentence to where we are imprisoned in
This whole world is a sentence to where we end life and begin again
Saturday morning, I woke up yawnin', cause I hadn't slept all night
I was so nervous about the moment when you'd finally meet my guy
I told him before we make things official that he'd have to ask you first
And now that he told me you gave him a hard time
Daddy now it's my turn:

Can I start a future with the love of my life?
Say yes, say yes, cause I need to know
You know I'll always need your blessings till the day I die
So please tell me why the answer is no

Dad, you don't gotta be so rude. Don't you see he loves me too?
he promises that he'll be true, if I marry him anyway...
Marry that boy (hope that you'll be okay)
Marry that boy (don't make him go away)
Marry that boy (he'll take good care of me)
So daddy, don't be rude...

We're not in a rush, please don't make a fuss, let me make this real clear
He wants to be able to prove himself to you, even if it takes years,
There's much you don't know, please forget what you've heard, he has his stuff together
Just give him a chance and maybe you'll see, that we were meant for each other

I wanna start a future with the love of my life
So say yes, say yes, cause I need your yes
You know I'll always need your blessings till the day I die
And I'll always be your little princess

Daddy please don't be rude. I know you see he loves me too...
He promises that he'll be true, if I marry him anyway...
Marry that boy (hope that you'll be okay)
Marry that boy (don't make him go away)
Marry that boy (he'll take good care of me)
So daddy, don't be rude...
(The Daughter's Side of the Story)
Alisha Thoma
608 · Oct 2014
"RUDE (A Dad's Response)"
saturday morning
you come with out morning
wake me up from my bed
seeking permission to marry my princess
son what's wrong with your big head
it's the first time I met you
why would I let you
run off with my baby girl
get back in your pinto
it's time that you go
the answers no

you say you want my daughter for the rest of your life
well you gotta make more than burgers and fries
get out your mommas basement boy and get you a life
son your twenty eight
don't you think it's time

why you gotta call me rude
for doing what a dad should do
and keep her from a fool like you
and if if you marry her anyway

marry that girl
I'm gonna punch your face
marry that girl
I'll make you go away
marry that girl
at the bottom of a lake

you may not get this
so let me explain it
cuz you need to understand
this is forever
she deserves better
she really needs a grown man

I know what you thinking
you think you'll still take her
give it your best shot
I may be a christian
but I'll go to prison
I'm not afraid of doin hard time

you say you want my daughter for the rest of your life
well you gotta make more than burgers and fries
get out your mommas basement boy and get you a life
son your twenty eight
don't you think it's time

why you gotta call me rude
for doing what a dad should do
and keep her from a fool like you
and if if you marry her anyway

marry that girl
I'm gonna punch your face
marry that girl
I'll make you go away
marry that girl
at the bottom of a lake
Found this version on youtube.
Re-write by Benji Cowart
But in beginning, trust me well,
I shall make an invocation
With especial devotion
Unto the god of sleep anon,
Who dwells in a cave of stone
By a stream that comes from Lethe,
That flows out of Hell un-sweetly,
Near a folk men call Cimmerians.
There ever sleeps this god of dreams
With his thousand sleepy sons
For whom sleep ever is their wont.
And of this god whom I discuss
I pray that he’ll grant me success
My dream for to tell aright,
If over all dreams he has might.
And he that Mover is of all
That is and was and ever shall,
Grant them joy, who do this hear,
Of all that they dream this year,
And may they stand in good grace
With their loves, or in that place
Where they would most prefer to be,
Shield them from harm and poverty
And from misfortune and disease,
And send them what may them please
Who take it well and scorn it not
Nor condemn it in their thought
Through malicious inclination.
And whoever from presumption
Or hate or scorn, or out of envy,
Disdain, contempt or villainy,
Condemns it, pray I Jesus God
That – dream he barefoot, dream he shod –
Every harm that any man
Has known since the world began,
Befall him thereof, ere he end,
And grant he may the whole attend,
Lo, with such a conclusion
As he had, from his vision,
Croesus, King of Lydia, high
Who there upon a gibbet died!
This prayer shall he have of me;
For I am no better in charity!
Now hearken, as I have spoken,
To what I dreamed ere I had woken.
By Sir Geoffrey Chaucer
500 · Oct 2014
Chained, on the walls of jericho
Horrified, on the roads of monaco
Rested his will in the promise land
Inviting us to repent and take his hand
Startled, by the king of greece
Throttled, by the eastern breeze
Oblivious, like the men of egypt
Precise, like a code encrypt
Herald of so many man,
Endless, like kingdom come.
Righteous and glorious  like everyone.

All of humanity embraces him
None was taken, but save us from sin
Thorns were on his crown, and rags were his robe
Onto crucifixion he walked that rough and winding road
Neglected by Judas and Peter the pope
In his honor, came the christian hope
Only the highest now, can vow upon him and sleep on his coat

Alelujah, amen and forever we pray to thee
Not just for our sins, but of what have become we
Alelujah, amen and forever we pray to thee
So now and forever he will defend for humanity....
487 · Oct 2014
The House with Nobody in It
Whenever I walk to Suffern along the Erie track
I go by a poor old farmhouse with its shingles broken and black.
I suppose I've passed it a hundred times, but I always stop for a minute
And look at the house, the tragic house, the house with nobody in it.

I never have seen a haunted house, but I hear there are such things;
That they hold the talk of spirits, their mirth and sorrowings.
I know this house isn't haunted, and I wish it were, I do;
For it wouldn't be so lonely if it had a ghost or two.

This house on the road to Suffern needs a dozen panes of glass,
And somebody ought to **** the walk and take a scythe to the grass.
It needs new paint and shingles, and the vines should be trimmed and tied;
But what it needs the most of all is some people living inside.

If I had a lot of money and all my debts were paid
I'd put a gang of men to work with brush and saw and *****.
I'd buy that place and fix it up the way it used to be
And I'd find some people who wanted a home and give it to them free.

Now, a new house standing empty, with staring window and door,
Looks idle, perhaps, and foolish, like a hat on its block in the store.
But there's nothing mournful about it; it cannot be sad and lone
For the lack of something within it that it has never known.

But a house that has done what a house should do,
a house that has sheltered life,
That has put its loving wooden arms around a man and his wife,
A house that has echoed a baby's laugh and held up his stumbling feet,
Is the saddest sight, when it's left alone, that ever your eyes could meet.

So whenever I go to Suffern along the Erie track
I never go by the empty house without stopping and looking back,
Yet it hurts me to look at the crumbling roof and the shutters fallen apart,
For I can't help thinking the poor old house is a house with a broken heart.
Jose P. Rizal
The** art began ages ago, older than civilization,
like 6000 BC or so
Art piece known across many cultures,
inspired by many, who have drawn a vast number of features
That sheds about 40,000 skin cells per hour
Tells us of the very distant passed that time devoured
Our tattoo pigments get deeper into the skin, thanks to Thomas Edison for inventing the first engraving machine , my salutes to him
Own it, cause those needles punch through the epidermis
and allows ink that goes deep into the dermis
Stories that are now drawn in our nerves, caused by small wounds that causes the inflammatory process; fought not won by macrophages,
it will be there as you go through the ages
442 · Oct 2014
A smile that gives me a wonderful greeting
Revolving doors and makes every neck spinning
Righteous is my heart upon your scenic meaning
In a day so bright, listening to birds singing
And your eyes are like those of pearl
No dispute, your like the daughter of an earl
Each day passes and years go by, I can only think of you and sigh

Fairly, like the woman from Italy
And fairy tales hailing from the legends of Sicily
Rest I may in your soft and gentle hands
Rest I shall in your caressing arms
And if these thoughts shall never be
Love I will be restless and be lost at sea
Each time I think of you would seem like a century
Such beauty like yours will only remain as a memory
Now hearken every manner of man
That English can understand,
And listen: learn from my dream here;
For the first time now you’ll hear
So excellent a vision, lo,
That Isaiah, no, nor Scipio,
Nor King Nebuchadnezzar,
Pharaoh, Turnus nor Elkanah,
Ever knew such a dream as this!
Now O fair blissful Cypris,
Show me your favour at this time!
And help me to create and rhyme
You, who on Parnassus dwell,
By Helicon the crystal well.
O Thought, that all I dreamed composed,
And in the treasury enclosed
Of my brain, now shall men see
If any virtue in you there be
To tell all my dream aright;
Now show all your skill and might!
By Sir Geoffrey Chaucer
433 · Jun 2018
Early in her years she was somewhat abandoned.
Rejected by the only family she knew, unwanted and with no arms to hang on.
Independently she faced a cruel and an uncomforting world.
Keeping her tears hidden inside while she shows us only her most beautiful smile.
A damsel in great distress without anyone to lean on and just weep and cry.

Years passed by and she became a mother.
One little angel, her lovely daughter.
Her reason to go on with life and not think of anymore struggles.
Kept herself back on track and didnt mind the hurdles.
One or two relationships that broke her heart, also became  the reason that she had to restart.

Now she has a house of her own that she can always call home.
One fine job that pays more than she could ever hone.
Zestfully she faces the world with a whole new view.
And still smiles but no more tears behind them, for this time they are true.
Keeping on moving forward and thats how she plays it.
It doesnt matter if you lose or win the game, its how you played it.
426 · Oct 2017
There is this endless song that plays in my head.
A complex tune that is thinner than a piece of thread.
A note that composes a toneless lyric that can never be said.

Piecing its rhythm and harmony through a broken medley.
Written on a distinctly colored string of unsuspecting melody.

There is a beating percussion that lies for the truth.
A key to strum that opens the eye of the youth.

A balance of ballads that just sways and dance.
That plays a masterpiece in a deeply woven trance.

There is this music and it is unsung.
It makes me feel like screaming out of my lungs.

This is a soundless piece of harmonically made lyrics.
That no rhythmically accentuated type of melodic medley can better its music.
423 · Sep 2017
Say my name and I will disappear.
I am the endless song that only the deaf can hear.
Listen to my eternal depth as it echoes through the wind.
Enunciated by the mute with no words to send.
No man can keep me for a long period of time.
Catch me for a second and next thing you know I'm gone.
Even the most quiet moment can lose me when its done.
402 · Sep 2017
Thanks for coming to see me in this state.

Im really sorry but I dont feel great.

If you want to say something dont hesitate.

Do tell me something before its too late.

Im about to leave you on a given date.

And as I tell you it would seal my fate.

So with these last words I would see the end.

If things could be better then I'll see you again.
386 · Mar 2015
Till We Meet Again
You appeared in those days when all things just seem to be in the shadows
You brought joy & happiness and swept the tears away with all the sorrows
When I thought that my life is on the roughest of all the surface
When I thought that my journey is no worth and had to end my life’s phase

You began telling me that things can be better
That is why I thought of writing you this letter
I remember those days, just a few years when you came
When you saved my existence from rising flames

I would like to tell you that knowing you was such treasure
And I could say that there is no doubt that you brought me pleasure
At first glance you had me doubtful
Not because I didn’t want to trust anybody, I was just frightful

Thank you for showing me that there is always sunrise after each day
Thank you for showing me that somehow everything is going to be okay
We had our laughs, we both shed our tears
We had best from out of nothing, you took away all of my fears

I remember each moment when we were together
I just thought it would last, and it would be forever
Then one day you never came to where we once met
That day I thought that you were somewhere else, so I waited till the sun has set

I just found out that you went away
With another, a man who was once a stray
I thought that we just had something coming between us
Something mutual and something that was just

That night I went to bed, I wasn’t able to sleep I just thought of you instead
Thought more about the days we were together and had thoughts  of why you fled
Then it came to me that I was once more alone
I will never be with another if not with you, I’d rather have a heart of stone

With every second, every minute of the hours of each passing day
I will be waiting for that tomorrow, that day that I still pray
I may have not been that much worth of a man that you came to know
Still inside I long for you, I still await for you at that place where life still flows

I just hope that someday if ever again that we meet
You would still remember the story of our love so sweet
Even if you no longer feel the same feeling that my heart beats
Even if your heart no longer remembers that mine loves you with such great feat
381 · Nov 2018
Sometimes its braver to cry.
Sometimes its braver not to try.
Sometimes its braver to walk away.
Sometimes its braver not to stay.

Sometimes its braver not to fight.
Sometimes its braver to admit defeat when its right.
Sometimes its braver to take the blame.
Sometimes its braver to be ashamed.

Sometimes its braver to take the fall.
Sometimes its braver to not stand tall.
Sometimes its braver to surrender and be at peace.
Sometimes its braver to say less and not to please.

Sometimes its braver not to be brave.
Sometimes its braver to show that you're afraid.
372 · Oct 2014
See the coming of the light of dawn
After the night, the sun will soon be on
Magnificent views of the morning will be upon you
And the warmth of the day with the sky in blue
Northern lights will then be coming by night fall
The phenomenal aurora that we came to call
Heave from darkness and come to a less dimmer light
And you will be safer from the dim of the night

See the coming of the light of dawn
Unify the fields with the horning of the fawn
Mythical forms of creatures from barrens deep
Marvelous trees from the great forest above the keep
Each sight can astonish and amaze a man
R**eturning from the farthest distance, the journey from a distant land
Saturday Morning, still in my bed
Heard the yelling from my room
Threw on my clothes and raced like a jet
To the porch where I found you

Tension was high, my dad and my man
Both claiming possession
Just like the old west, a fight for my hand

Can one of you have me for the rest of my life
Say no, say no
Is this a joke
Say no one's gunna own me til the day I die
But good luck you guys
you both are jerks!

Both of you are being crude
You know that I'm a person too
Acting like controlling dudes
No one asked me for my say

Marry that girl...
How bout what I say?
Marry that girl...
Don't like you anyway.

Marry that girl...
Yeah, that'll be the day

Why you gotta be so crude?

Hate that you do this, give me no choice
Like an arranged marriage
Don't care if you love me, I'm not your toy
I'm the one with the leverage
I just might run away
Do you think that I would stay?
Cause you're not okay
So listen to me when I say

I belong to no one for the rest of my life
Say no, say no
Is this a joke
Say I decide my husband til the day I die but at this rate I'd rather have no one

Both of you are being crude
You know that I'm a person too
Acting like controlling dudes
No one asked me for my say

Marry that girl...
How bout what I say?
Marry that girl...
Don't you like it anyway?

Why you gotta be so crude?!
(The Daughter's Side of the Story)
359 · Mar 2015
Old Poets
If I should live in a forest
And sleep underneath a tree,
No grove of impudent saplings
Would make a home for me.

I'd go where the old oaks gather,
Serene and good and strong,
And they would not sigh and tremble
And vex me with a song.

The pleasantest sort of poet
Is the poet who's old and wise,
With an old white beard and wrinkles
About his kind old eyes.

For these young flippertigibbets
A-rhyming their hours away
They won't be still like honest men
And listen to what you say.

The young poet screams forever
About his *** and his soul;
But the old man listens, and smokes his pipe,
And polishes its bowl.

There should be a club for poets
Who have come to seventy year.
They should sit in a great hall drinking
Red wine and golden beer.

They would shuffle in of an evening,
Each one to his cushioned seat,
And there would be mellow talking
And silence rich and sweet.

There is no peace to be taken
With poets who are young,
For they worry about the wars to be fought
And the songs that must be sung.

But the old man knows that he's in his chair
And that God's on His throne in the sky.
So he sits by the fire in comfort
And he lets the world spin by.
By Alfred Joyce Kilmer
351 · Nov 2018
(A) rose within a garden of thorns sits still and glowing.
(N)ot to be prickly but to show a beauty that is over flowing.
(D)own the lakeside crystaline water flows.
(R)ising deeply, to a depth that no one knows.
(E)ventful is the sight created by a "Godly" hand.
(A) magnificent view to behold, an endless story written in the sand.

(U)nderneath a clear blue sky a lovely face sits beneath a tree.
(R)eading a penned story by an author, and that is she.
(E)ntwined, the words that cannot be written in rhyme, and only another tale to be made in time.
(T)o write another is to be done in a different tale.
(A)nd to write it freely is to be like ships preparing to sail.
345 · Oct 2014
Save me, from the depths of my sorrows,
Help me build a brighter future, a better tomorrow.
Emancipate me from my sins.
Remove this suffering from deep within.
Oh great and mighty lights.
Vindicate me from hatred and keep me tight.
Invulnerable as you are.
Normal, still like a star from afar.

Beholding your holy power.
Aged by the worlds greatest desires.
Yet you stay humbly paced.
Over the earth, watching the human race.
Through a scope of epic proportions.
And advance laws of humane tribulation.
343 · Oct 2018
(A)bove the church were golden bells.
(N)ext to it was the finest sight, a hunch-back belle.
(N)ested in a tower of cobwebs and dusty shelves.
(E)xcept no one new that she was a princess walking among our common selves.

(C)arved within her heart is a beauty without comparison.
(U)nsuspectingly she can bust you out and then throw you to a jail garison.
(R)eclaimed by her will was a kingdom of magic.
(T)hat three young lads fought for her though always arguing about logic.
(I)n her eyes you can see a bright red glow.
(S)hining like blood red rubies in a cave under six feet of snow.

(S)ilence is sought out whenever she starts to sing.
(M)ajestic is her voice but can give you an alarming sting.
(I)n her greatest moments she sings with an enormous chorale.
(T)he kind of crowd that boosts her morale.
(H)old your breath for a mesmerizing musical royale.
340 · Oct 2014
Just look at the stars when you feel blue.
Hold the lightning like a streak of burning flames.
On the cold and darkness of endless space.
A beam of sun light will brighten up your day.
Never forget to think of him or to pray.

Loneliness is just a word.
Each day will be brighter.
All things will be better.
Let it not get to you any further.
Keeping a thought to himself though he wants it to be spoken.
Undesiring not to speak but his incapability wouldnt let him.
Residing in his lips are the words that he would just want to say.
That wont ever happen since his speech box is broken and those words can never be in play.

Caged in his soul is a song that he can never sing.
Often picked at and frequently treated by others like he is somewhat other people's play thing.
Very carefully he observes the entirity of his sorrounding world.
Executing to let out a speech but you wont hear him saying a single word.
Never may he be able to talk with moving lips, but he can converse with you with his fingers and up to its tips.

Pronouncing his syllables in an endless string of silence.
Accentuating his ideals though to some it wont make any sense.
Gesture after gesture he will tell what it is that he has been needing to say.
Unsure of those endless quiet battles he only wish he could slay.
In his somewhat voiceless soul lies the need to yell a thousand phrases.
Residing in his spirit is a muted volume that cannot be erased even if he pleases.
In his mind lives a storm that he can hardly calm.
Greeting a tragic scene of a great noiseless loneliness that will never be gone.
All he knows is that his unending silence is a tool,  that may one day change the world.
Nothing is sure but it is a disguised gift from the lord.

A day may come when his greatest obstacle ends.
Beauty of being able to speak freely without the use of his hands.
A fine morning that will one day shine him a light.
Letting him to express him self in a whole new way in his right.
Only in a given moment that only time can give.
Such a day will come when god gives him what he has asked to receive.
This one is dedicated to my high school classmate's mute son.
324 · Oct 2014
Jitters ought to make you stomping not jumping
A piercing needle filled with ink on your skin to be etched in
Yell it out and start screaming, here comes the tattooist from tables end

All you need is a sense of taste, a little green and blue or red and black if you have what it takes
Right to left, up to down, just bear with it and soon it will be over and the pain will be gone

Guided by a stencil and whatever kind of print
Use your imagination, the concept will come to life with the power of ink or tint
Say rest for a moment and he'll give you time
It will then be forever, never you will erase this from that skin, it will be forever be embedded in time
317 · Sep 2017
Captivated by a deeply trance.
Romanticly disabled when you start to dance.
Accentuated by your every word.
Zoned in an endless medley of your own accord.
Yearning to hold such a beauty that before me was unfold.

Listening to the sound of the singing birds.
Out in the fields where the sheeps gather in a herd.
Voices that whispers the songs of unspoken melody.
Endlessly echoing in such sweet harmony.
314 · Mar 2015
The House of Fame "Part 1"
God turn every dream to good!
For it’s a marvel, by the rood,
To my mind, what causes dreaming
Either at dawn or at evening,
And why truth appears in some
And from some shall never come;
Why this one is a vision,
And that one a revelation,
Why this a nightmare, that a dream,
And not to every man the same;
Why this a phantom, why these oracles
I know not; but who of these miracles
Knows the cause better than me,
Let him explain, for certainly
I know it not, never thinking,
Nor busily my wits belabouring,
To know of their significance
The kinds, nor yet the distance
In time between them, nor the causes,
Or why this more than that a cause is;
As if folk’s complexions
Made them dream their reflections,
Or else thus, as some maintain,
Because of feebleness of brain,
Through abstinence, or from sickness,
Imprisonment, or great distress;
Or else by the disordering
Of their habitual mode of living,
Because some man’s too curious
In study, or melancholy, bilious,
Or so inwardly full of fear,
That no man may drag him clear;
Or else because the devotion
Of some, and contemplation,
Causes such dreams often;
Or that the cruel life, the harsh one,
To which those lovers are lead,
Who hope over-much or dread,
Simply through their emotions
Causes them to see visions;
Or if spirits have the might
To make folk dream at night,
Or if the soul, of its own kind,
Is so perfect, or such men find,
That it foresees what is to come
And gives warning, to all and some,
To each of them, of their adventures
Through visions or phantom figures,
Though our flesh lacks the might
To understand it all aright,
Since it is warned too darkly –
Yet what the cause is, ask not me.
Good luck in this to greater clerks
Who treat of these and other works,
For I of no firm opinion
Shall, for now, make mention,
Except that the holy rood
Turn our every dream to good!
For never a man since I was born,
Nor no man else who came before,
Dreamed, I believe steadfastly,
So wonderful a dream as me,
On the tenth day of December,
The which, as much as I remember,
I will you every detail tell.
By Sir Geoffrey Chaucer
313 · Oct 2014
Miss, how do you make a man stand in your honor
And fight for your love in-front of such great horror
Relinquishing a dragon's heart even in terror
In battles fought but can never be won
Timeless beauty for the coming dawn
Each man knighted by ghostly shadows
Searching for answers from deep black empty hollows

Can there be a bigger madness
Or worst a deeper sadness
Thus that angel know of thee
And God as witness, know of we
Souls become broken and more spirits rise,
I can now see the dark side of heaven in your eyes..
312 · Oct 2018
(J)avelin like strikes is what it feels like when you get stung by his venomous poisoned tail.
(H)orriedly taking your life slowly like a cancer that in your sea of blood buoyantly sails.
(O)n the dead of night he crawls beneath your sheets.
(N)avigating through your camp, away from the fire and to give you the creeps.
(G)rinning like a beast as he makes you scream and shriek.

(H)is a deadly scorpion, a shell case demon who doesn't want anybody bursting his bubbles.
Impassable and has an impossible rage that you would never want to unravel.
(L)ethal is his face that would make you beg for your life when you face him.
(A) depth of a thousand fold vengeance is what he holds and its all about grim.
(R)uthless are the plans that he creates, the kind that would give you nightmares in your deepest of slumber.
(I)n his head you are not a person, but a target and just a number.
(O)ne grave mistake and you may find your self in a stinky niche of a dumpster.
310 · Oct 2014
I think that I shall never see
A poem lovely as a tree.

A tree whose hungry mouth is prest
Against the earth’s sweet flowing breast;

A tree that looks at God all day,
And lifts her leafy arms to pray;

A tree that may in Summer wear
A nest of robins in her hair;

Upon whose ***** snow has lain;
Who intimately lives with rain.

Poems are made by fools like me,
But only God can make a tree.
By Alfred Joyce Kilmer
309 · Sep 2017
Be ready to face this obstacle.
And start praying for a miracle.
Let the battle of the fittest begin.
Admit your defeat when I win.
Keenly, I will destroy you with my sharpened wits.
I will not stop until you say you quit.
Dont you even think that we are done, because this isnt over the war has just begun.
306 · Sep 2017
(S)ending his thoughts to a place of complete nothingness.
(T)hinking of ridiculous things that no one could ever guess.
(U)nderstanding only the most senseless things that nobody would mind.
(P)aying attention to a game that can only be won by his kind.
(I)mprisoned in a world that no one would dare to visit.
(D)efending a title that he only has and would never make him get out to the nearest exit.
306 · May 2015
She Is Me
She always wanted to come out from inside of me but I never let her
She always makes me wear the opposite of my clothes and in them I look better
She always dresses me up in any weather
She always puts her make up on my face and says that way I'm prettier

She tells me that she is the real me and I was just her vessel
She tells me that I no me I am just another weasel
She tells me to let her out so she can show me the rest of the world
She tells me to set her free so she can free me from my boredom

She speaks in my head like I don't own it
She falls for a guy and wants me to deal with it
She said that I am her and she is me
But i told her that want she wants is not yet to be done, I just wanna be the male me
Should I let her out or should I keep her in?
303 · Mar 2015
If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you;
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too:
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or, being lied about, don't deal in lies,
Or being hated don't give way to hating,
And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise;

If you can dream---and not make dreams your master;
If you can think---and not make thoughts your aim,
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same:.
If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build'em up with worn-out tools;

If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings,
And never breathe a word about your loss:
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: "Hold on!"

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with Kings---nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too much:
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
And---which is more---you'll be a Man, my son!
By Rudyard Kipling
299 · Oct 2017
Do you still remember the days when we were seated in a class.
Back then when we did a lot of foolishness and man it was a blast.

Can you recall all the stupid things that we once did.
Those epic moments when the teachers hated us, almost kicking us off the grid.

Do you remember that we used to have a crush on someone within the same room.
The one that looks like an angel and seems to always be in bloom.

Do you remember when we played tricks on the girls.
Then they would come back at us for vengeance while in skirts and making twirls.

Do you remember when we skipped classes so we could go for a stroll.
We were like rockers who are always ready to roll.

We used to climb the roof and goof around.
Used to cheat on our quizzes and still we hit the ground.
292 · Oct 2017
Escaping were tears from her eyes.
Vicious were the hurting pains heard from her cries.
Endless echoes of deep and hallow voices.
Leaning towards the sun and againsts quiet noises.
Young was her son who never spoke a word and would probably speak none.
Not a day that passes that she has not missed her man.

People talking behind her while showing smiles infront of her face.
As if they were not fools when the truth is that they're more of a disgrace.
Gestures are weaved into words when her hands are in waves.
Uncomf'table with what the world thinks but her heart remains pure and unraged.
Implosive thoughts of anger that she can never let out and explode.
Residing in fears of doubtful taunts and still she remains dauntless and composed.
In days when the rain never stopped pouring.
God lits up a light without her even knowing.
A brightly blaze that is called the golden sun.
No more shedding of tears for those past and broken pieces are again mended into one.
Next page