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jia Jul 2020
dear anxiety, when will you leave me?
all my thoughts have gone wary
even my vision's kinda blurry
hear me out and save me hurry

dear anxiety, why are you here?
creeping me out so sheer
you won't get another tear
is anyone ever near?

dear anxiety, what do you want?
still in my dreams you do your haunt
tell it to me and i shall grant
even so, no one hears my rant

dear anxiety, who must i call?
though in the end it's me who will fall
surely you have taken its toll
when will they see it all?

dear anxiety, how are you?
so good at keeping me blue
remind me that this reality is true
those who see it are only few
Heard powerful words move men to
action
“Hail ******”
Millions of innocent souls lost deaths
so hideous
ironically
there are no words to describe

“I have a Dream”
50,000 Americans march onto their
capital to claim the God given right
to be equal.
The same words
Moving through time
staying strong
to where 30 years later
a small white girl
3rd grade
in rural Kansas
echos those same words
in a report on how the world ought
to be

I have seen great words
lost and alone
Concealed beneath pages
Stacked on lined walls
Masters who have manipulated
even the most minute syllable
to affect how you feel, learn, believe.
Vaporized to the literary abyss of the
library Knowledge untapped
Mute wisemen.

Last words
spoken
Desperate to sum up a life in one
B—R—E—A—T—H
what to say......?
what to say......?
One last, “Tell my, fill in the blank, I
love them.”

Or cheaters who manufacture
manuscripts
to be read at their own funerals
pre-written, pre-thought-out ovations
of pathetic lives in an attempt to give
them worth. Sadly, still trying to fool
others by sounding spontaneous
extemporaneous
Even after their heart STOPS
jia Jul 2020
it's funny how i remember you in any way possible,
and when I do,
i realize you're irreplaceable,
how i wish i am too.

there's this time i heard your favorite song,
i reminisce how you'd repeatedly say you love it,
and when i do, i listen for it so long,
suddenly, the sadness just hits.

i even recall the moments when you get all my joke,
remembering that my humor is not something anyone can perceive,
and when i do, i just laugh and croak.
it's sad that you just had to leave.

i think of the time when you first heard my voice,
you kept on teasing how i sounded so cute,
but now that you're gone i have nothing to rejoice.
instantly, everything just turns mute.

do you remember when i tried not paying attention to you?
when i keep leaving you on read?
i was just so scared that you'll go and leave me out of the blue,
funny cause now that's what happened.

and i still recall when we play this certain game,
i'd be the one to start it but I always forget to join so I would be shocked.
now, without you, it is not the same.
cause without you, everything just stopped.

you keep on reminding me to remember,
so i try my best to recall.
i know for a fact that you'll never be back again ever,
but I just wanna say, I remember it all.
sharks in
Trafalgar Square
throw hats
of Danbury
yet antebellum
in London
is a
column yet
the public
cityscape in
her democracy
yet anarchy
in a
high sea
stake of
Latin Tribe
is now
jia Jun 2020
i wanna get mad
and curse you so bad
you vanished all of a sudden
now my heart's all harden

i wanna get angry
but if I hear atleast just one sorry
it's more than enough
for my heart isn't that tough

i wanna be ******
for all these feelings i have risked
however, when it comes to you
i don't even know what's true

i wanna be happy
but without you it's all just lonely
so come to me,
for when its you, i'll always be ready
Michael R Burch Jun 2020
Caedmon's Hymn: a Modern English Translation of the Old English (Anglo-Saxon) Poem

"Cædmon's Hymn" was composed sometime between 658 and 680 AD and appears to be the oldest extant poem in the English language. Information follows the poem for anyone who’s interested.

Cædmon's Hymn (circa 658-680 AD)
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Humbly we honor heaven-kingdom's Guardian,
the Measurer's might and his mind-plans,
the goals of the Glory-Father. First he, the Everlasting Lord,
established earth's fearful foundations.
Then he, the First Scop, hoisted heaven as a roof
for the sons of men: Holy Creator,
mankind's great Maker! Then he, the Ever-Living Lord,
afterwards made men middle-earth: Master Almighty!



Bede's Death Song (circa 731 AD)
ancient Anglo-Saxon/Old English lyric poem
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Facing Death, that inescapable journey,
who can be wiser than he
who reflects, while breath yet remains,
on whether his life brought others happiness, or pains,
since his soul may yet win delight's or night's way
after his death-day.



Translator's Notes: "Cædmon's Hymn" is one of the oldest surviving examples of Anglo-Saxon alliterative verse. By way of illustration, in the first line I have capitalized the repeating sounds:

Humbly Now we HoNour HeaveN-kiNGDom's GuarDiaN

In defense of my interpretation that Caedmon may have regarded God as a fellow Poet-Creator, please let me point out that the original poem employs the words scop and haleg scepen. Anglo-Saxon poets were called scops. The term haleg scepen seems to mean something like "Holy Poet" or "Holy Creator/Maker" because poets were considered to be creators and makers. Also the verb tīadæ has been said to mean something like "creatively adorned." So I don't think it's that much of a stretch to suggest that a Christian poet may have seen his small act of creation as an imitation of the far greater acts of creation of his Heavenly Father.

As in the original poem, each line of my translation has a caesura: a brief pause denoted by extra white space (which may not show up in some browsers). In each line, there are repeated vowel/consonant sounds. This alliteration gives alliterative verse its name. The original poem is also accentual verse, in that each line has four strong stresses, and the less-stressed syllables are not counted as they are in most other forms of English meter (such as iambic pentameter). My translation is not completely faithful to the original rules. For instance, I have employed a considerable amount of internal alliteration (which gives me more flexibility in the words I can employ). And some of my lines contain more than four stresses, although I think there are still four dominant stresses per line. For instance, in the first line: HONour, HEAVen, KINGdom's GUARDian. In the second line: MEASurer’s, MIGHT, MIND-PLANS. And so on. I don't think the technique is all-important. The main questions are whether the meaning is clear, and whether the words please the ear. Only you, the reader, can decide that, and you don't need a high-falutin' critic to tell you what you like!

I believe the poem is "biblical" in its vision of creation. According to the Bible, the earth was set on an immovable foundation by the hand of God. (Little did the ancient writers know that the earth is actually a spinning globe whizzing through space at phenomenal speeds!) We see this foundation in line four. Next, in line five, we see the hand of God creating the heavens above, where according to the Bible he then set the sun, moon and stars in place. (The ancient writers again got things wrong, saying that the earth existed first, in darkness, and that the sun, moon and stars were created later; we now know that the earth's heavier elements were created in the hearts of stars, so the stars existed long before the earth. The writers of Genesis even said that plants grew before the sun was formed, but of course they had never heard of photosynthesis.) The poem's last line sounds a bit more Germanic or Norse to me, since Middle Earth is a concept we hear in tales of Odin and Thor (and later in the works of J. R. R. Tolkien). But that makes sense because when Saint Augustine of Canterbury became the first Christian missionary to evangelize native Britons, I believe it was the policy of the Roman Catholic Church to incorporate local beliefs into the practice of Christianity. For instance, because sun gods were worshiped in Rome, the Sabbath day became Sun-day, and the birth of Christ became December the 25th (the day the winter sun is "resurrected" and the days begin to lengthen, heralding spring). So in northern climes we should expect to see some "fusion" of Norse and Germanic myths with Christianity. For instance, there was never a mention of "hell" in the Hebrew Bible; the Hebrew language did not even have a word that meant "hell" at the time the books of the Old Testament were written. The closest Hebrew word, Sheol, clearly means "the grave" and everyone went there when they died, good and bad. The Greek word Hades also means the grave, and likewise everyone went there when they died. Hades had heavenly regions like the Elysian Fields and Blessed Isles and thus was obviously not hell! "Hell" is a Norse term. If this subject interests you―for instance if someone has said you are in danger of "hell" and need to be "saved" from it―you many want to read my simple, logical proof that There Is No Hell in the Bible.

Keywords/Tags: Caedmon, Hymn, Old English, Anglo-Saxon, translation, God, religion, religious, praise, worship, oldest poem, first poem, Bede
Sharde' Fultz Jun 2020
I love language
I love slang
I love ebonics and southern twang
I dont "talk white"
Theres no "proper english"
I talk how I talk.
I speak as I wish.
I'm a grammar qween
But dont come for my trouble
ain't got no time to be studdin the limits of your bubble
Because you've made a box
Of your ethnocentrism
the color in my words
Finds narrow minds in a schism
So open your eyes
See past your upward tilted nose
And open your ears to the beauty of prose That sounds unfamiliar
Or feels contradictory
Or has been beaten and stigmatized due to bias and history
Let's grow beyond that
Beyond misinformation
To cultural relativism.
To correlation.
I'll code switch if I want
Code blend if I choose
I reserve all the rights to the language I use.
You'll find me moving with pride, so culturally infused,
my head held high while I drop "aint's" and "you's a whooole fool"s
I dont "talk white"
Theres no "proper english"
I talk how I talk.
I speak as I wish.
From a conversation with beautiful minds about language.
jia Jun 2020
you're like a ray of sunshine
a beam that steadies my heart 'til I'm fine
a someone that always holds me on line
in my head, you are mine

although i **** you so often
you always make my heart soften
still, i can't tell you this, i said again
so I'm just gonna write my feelings out with a pen
it ***** when you can't say your own feelings, right?
Senthil Rhaj Jun 2020
For eternity, the cue
that my queen does veil
her in the letter Q
taking me off the teacher’s dwale
showed the heaven’s hue
was a clear saile
she lingered on as a dew
till comes the pale
my love for you, Q, is true
Q, the angel, brought me the quill!
supman Jun 2020
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