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Raven Mc Chim Sep 28
The world behind me
Where the rudes judge me
Makes me feel low
Even when I feel to glow
Maybe they don't know
that I'm my life hero
What they know is just their mere  calculations
What I do is beyond their their imagination
So,
Don't provoke me,
                       I'm the rose filled with thorns
I may look good and sweet to talk but  dare to play with me,
            I'll poke you with my thorns
Ken Pepiton Sep 19
Did you hear what that old man was thinking?

Morphic resonance is the experimental name,
I think we are served by nodes on a net
not spread in the sight of any bird,

a chthonic net of stone,
girdling the globe in granite, crystalline granite,

take it for granted, these boulders are the witnesses,
the scars of catastrophe,
causing us to wonder
how came this to be? Think Yosemite, Ansel Adams POV

Think Matterhorn und Mt.Blanc,
Old Rockytop, and
Dos Cabezas and Long Valley Mountain, all that granite,
old as earth.

Listen.
Time is the idea we share at the moment,
Earth's is the life we share at the same time.

This is Spaceship Earth, looping Sol as Sol loops Sirius,
and there is no mothership,
no resupply.

This is the only earth, it has survived several civilized
monstrosities. As you know, some mortals can't
imagine not surviving with it, so
we words of earthbound muse,
let slip the bands of pride in time to see,
we are the music,
we make beauty behave as will believes, voluntarily,
it seems,
we choose beauty with little de
liberation, no need to
unlock ledgers and boxes of known safe knowns,

we imagine ourselves
defying the
de-ified con instituted authorities warning,
given us, they swear by the very vicars of the oil:
We warn you…

hell's the price, they swear, that we,
the people, pay for heresy,
dare not think those-
no, no, nor hear and see, or never imagine thinking
a selfish thought,
one you find curiously comforting, for you, your idea,
but
stop…
one heresy breeds another,
soon we shall have a collective
of individual minds agreeing at once,

as all see a particular arranging of colors, in a sunset's
single effortless existence as a thing
with mortal mindable beauty,

did you belive the sunset, or may you, if you wish?

__ unravel, and re ravel to save the thread,
it has lead through the maze before,
I have a witness who tests ifies.

Great unquarried granite, but that forms another story
upon precepts as yet

unglued, un-coagulated, ah, curdled, precepts cultural
curdle and clump together.
Biomes are adjusting the rethinking of pathos,
ethos shall follow,
as night follows day, just wait.

Patience is formed from memes more than experience,
you bet the old man was not lying.

Slow and steady, wins the grace. Take it easy. Fade away…
Real, actual realization, never seems poetic, in real life.
Nat Lipstadt Aug 16
<!>

(~for R.A.~)
pour la Canadienne
<!>

The inside flat of
the upper left arm,
“the arm proper,”
a body part,
held in
low regard,
for it is not
easy visible,
shapely,
nor is it the arm of
Jerusalem cunning.^

Few realize
it alone,
the only skin
that can be
instantaneously
pressed direct
upon the
beating (dis)heartened
chest.

There,
upon it,
upon you,
I’ve inscribed in
richest blue India ink,
these words
tattooed,
ready for transfer,
im-pressing,
s k i n  to  s k i n,
an instant injection,
more powerful
than
Adrenaline:

You!
are
(not!)
alone.
^
◄ Psalm 137:5 ►
“If I Forget Thee, O Jerusalem, Let My Right Hand Forget Her Cunning”

<>
as is sometimes the case,
these words came to me
fully formed
in the mid of night
4:13am
<>
some say upon the same place,
but on the right arm was drawn
“a map of Canada
Oh, Canada
With your face sketched on it twice”
Poetress2 Apr 2019
The hungry Lion,
kneels down as it hunts its' prey,
cunning in its' ways.
Poetress2 Apr 2019
A Snake in the grass,
is very sly and cunning,
and ready to bite.
Butch Decatoria Jan 2019
Preening predator

Ambivalently proud

While other prey clamor,

Kaiser beast now sated

Yields to his jungle den.
Birds have their homes.
This bird made this world,
Its own home.

When other birds struggled
To make friends beyond their homes,
This bird made followers and comrades,
Transformed them
The perseverent leaders of a challenging mission

It put its foot on Argentina and
Set its victorious fight in Cuba.
Availed losses in Congo
Voiced and breathed every millisecond
Struggled recklessly for a mission,
Freedom, peace & prosperity of all its fellow birds
Beyond borders.

The most superior of the superior birds
With an infinite and complex strings of cunningness
Put an end to this bird in Bolivia.

At the end, the bird failed
Fell a prey for other selfish birds.
As a root that fell and
Buried itself in the soil with an infinite power.
To give hope and shelter,
To all those who come under it,
For the near future and coming generations

The bird died!
But its mission ignited the phoenix flames
In its bird comrades.
Got them to fight for
Every drop of Injustice, Imperialism and hatred
That came racing towards them
As an inescapable bullet

Their hearts raised in spirit
When every drop of its thought
Hit them more fierce than
The world’s most powerful atomic bomb.

The bird died.
But its ideals for the mission
Rekindled the fires in their heart.

Being born an ordinary bird,
Fighting for the most demanded & toughest mission,
Its thought and principles
Set new leaders to fight the unattainable mission
Now, looking the most possible
Within an attaining distance

The bird lived its life,
An ordinary and the most challenging one.
But transformed a phoenix,
When it left the world.
And created more of
Daring Phoenix warriors;
Attain a world filled with peace and happiness.
This poem is about Che Guevara. The man who set the mission to fight for a world unexploited with petty self-interests and cunning human-killing business deals. In this poem, the birds are humans. The superior birds are the modern imperialist nations. The unique phoenix bird mentioned is Che Guevara. His mission was a happy, peaceful, prosperous and human life throughout the world.
Ryzeofthepoet Sep 2018
You're the most unco and clumsy person I know
It doesnt really matter how many times you label yourself as "ninja"
I miss how you would argue and try convince me that you're actually artful and cunning when it came to being a 'ninja'.
Ode to you oh master
of cunning and disguise.
If I had only half of your years
I might be half as wise.

I did everything as ordered,
even stab them in their eyes.
And now as planned
I stand before you;
come to claim my prize.

The Prince of Darkness laughed out loud..."did you forget you silly fool I'm also king of Lies"
Poem/hymn written for a two book project I'm working on....Hems Heard in Heaven & Haws Heard in Hell.  Obviously this is in the Hell book.
Jeremiah Jul 2017
you told me to take a new approach
and let the hawk tighten it's grip around my throat
we are leftover vultures
and you have stolen our might

asinine beliefs
drug induced apathy
my apartment's scattered with make believe
an old sign of cindered sorrow

you left this place with weakened scars
and inferno tears to inform me of tomorrow
you held in your apology
like you had a stake in your foolish astrology

seldom a fond guide
and instead a heartless wretch
you manifested illusive love
and pulled the strings to tear us apart

common love
hunted us
common love
came for us
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