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My head asks what is the matter
My heart does not know the trouble
The sun shines more brilliant
The clouds draw imagine of beautiful pattern

The butterflies fly in the two rows
Dancing a smart dance as the great dancers
The leaves salute the winds with great tending

The winds pass so light and so guide
My mind asks and the world responds
The love appears and the peace governs
The world bows even the hate increases

The killing draw an optimistic imagines
it greets these were killed
and accuses these killings
Even the most powerful supports
Even the world tries to close his eyes
The freedom opens its arms
For long hugs for these downers
For who wants to get their land free and  peace

Even they expose to dead or gets injures
Their blood will the sign for the world letting them down
They will complain to the God for this unbalance
The justice is crippled,  the justice will lead to the death
the world watches the killing of Palestinian and says no word.
Johnny walker Apr 2019
Many years hopefully will come and pass for me, for Helen's made her
mark
on me with beautiful memories
of the years we shared together but
with
the enormity of creation probably seem but a short time
but to Helen and I more like an eternity In
this world we all do
live
an ever-changing world and not always for the
good
for that you have to search for but sometime one
has
a stroke of luck for true love does come their
way
just as did for me
my
God I loved her so but In my heart she'll always be
for true never does but does
just moves on
to
another time and place somewhere In the vastness of the universe that we all are living
In
Helen and I our time together seemed like an eternity but In the enormity if creation would seem no time at all
Seanathon Apr 2017
God
Please hold her
As only you can

Would you curl her up
In the palm of your hand?
And be with her
When I cannot?

Would you attend to her most every need
With efficiency
And make her well when she is not?

Because you know how she is
How she has these beautiful wandering dreams
And occasionally such restless thoughts

Would you speak to her now
With an voice unseen?
And reassure her that you are indeed the king
The creator of time and everything

Would you curl her up
And keep her more closely
Than ever she would've been to me?

Will you do this for me, my dear Lord?
Have you heard my prayerful repetitious plea?

If so I will stop until tomorrow
And finally try and get some sleep

Would you comfort her with immortal arms?
From a prayerful, tired version of me
I'm a tired but honest young man

https://soundcloud.com/user-433755196/immortal-arms
Martin Narrod Apr 2014
Mew
as soon as these blue speckled
socks go, that's it. A new bright black death.A solemn weir on a stark horizon.Give me a reason to wear color. My hueless affidavit
runs me into the Earth, where I sprout up
a pallid keb- brain orf'd, you could drag my etiolated ebon
body through the ovine fold or take me to the theater. When I was just a minor teg, I sheared my mim kip, I fuckinggave it to you outright. In this little
cote my wan mien nigrifying; my calamitous black, quaffed full of congou in demitasse, of souchong & saucers. My atrous wethered body albicantly degenerating in the atrous sun. I'm crusting over with wanness and you, you're fortifying in the cwm where I used to yaff and stray. Your ovivorous hunger,something I never knew, when first you came for my jecoral flesh, just another bot digging through my soft toison. Like Dall's Prometheus being sheared from the flock-you cut me away. In this drab and achromic world, you put the wanness in my flesh, the gid in my heart. Still.
Just these blue socks are left.
Written Sitting against an Oak tree outside of a family friend's farm in Fond du Lac, Wisconsin

— The End —