Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
S Smoothie Jun 4
A ring of futility

The patience game is not for the faint heart

Watching them tear your confidence apart,

Pulling the flesh from your backbone

Creaks give way to breaking

Shattering of nerves

Plucking away the feathers of hope

Bare naked and goosepimpled

The carvery lays waiting

An unceremonious carving

Beligerant twisted barbs of lies

They think they have power

They think the can destroy me

I almost thought they could too,

But as they say reputation is king

And mine speaks flesh to my bones

I pick the scales off one by one

Their pious deception no match

for my holy inception

A twisted fork tongue lays deep in its own rotted flesh

How the snakehole swallows it's own creator

Writhing in contorted panic as it's own truth flashes in its eyes

I may well be torn down every shred of pride

Only to rise a new and free from their serpentry

While they taste the bitter poison in their own sad tales

They never had real faith

And mine was never afraid of being tested

They forgot the sage old saying

Death trampling on death

Arise Tabitha and sin is no more

And nor is the serpent whom devours its self.
if not you
then who
would
deserve
loving you?
Keiya Tasire Jun 1
Thrashing and gnashing teeth
I screamed out
Whaling with fear
Tears flowed as a river
Between hard choking
Gasps of air.
Again and again
Until exhaustion drained
All from me but stillness.  
It caught my attention!

Between the breaths
I felt this stillness.
It is not noticeable before.
Only then exhaustion stopped my racing mind.
"It" opened.

Just under the surface of my breath.
Breathing in and breathing out
I sensed the silence of stillness.

"It" came quietly, whispering,
" I am here. Be still. Know me for I am Love."
I am forever entranced.
When standing in the shadow of my darkest night wtith anger, crying, and lashing, it was my exhaustian that brought me to a stop. this was possibly the first time that I truly sat in in the stillness of silence. No more whaling and gnashing of teeth, just stillness and silence. This poem is about coming face to face with what waits for each of within the stillness of silence.
Keiya Tasire May 17
"Within each of us
Yes, it's under the surface
Is a land of mystery
Just waiting to be explored ."
a hint that there is more to life and it is uniquely yours.
There’s a song in my soul
That I try to control
But it won’t be directed
Or infected by me
My higher self singing
and flinging me
forwards into the light,
with my dreams in sight
There - where I am awake,
with glimmer and gleam and
in sync with my being.
Sonia Ettyang Oct 2018
You're the divine Rock
The gem of my life
You read my soul like an open book
Filled my emptiness with your divine love
You're my oracle spirit
Enlightened my mind and woke me from the spell
You're my dominion
You took over my whole life
Brought down my fortress
Broke down every bonds
Nourished my soul
Fed my heart
I'm now awakened, the old me is gone
My eyes are wide open
I can see the perfect illusion
© Sonia Ettyang
ohellobeautiful Jun 2018
self love is not
a final destination
it is a constant battle
between who i was
and who i dream to be
this world may feed off fear
but my light won’t adhere
i am full on my own
there’s no home
beyond me
Denise Nov 2017
Before…

Before I knew you as Divine woman, I longed for your presence, In time i knew nothing could break our bond…

but that was before I knew you,

I know you now, and time is of the essence I was right all along, you indeed are my true sister. My confidant. I call you Mother.one of four souls highly blessed due to their grandfather's highly respected works through preaching the gospel humbly,
truly one of a kind, everyone loves their grandparents and deem them special. and I am no different,
To have known my grandfather Neo Garvin, is to have known what it means to be touched by an angel,
He and My grandmother(still young and beautiful as ever) chose to choose one another until death bid them ado,
The reaper comes to collect the souls of the ******,
God comes and gets his children, he sends special hands to aid in the process, he is always with me that i know is certain, unlike any other thing in this world, with every theory, every question,problem and solution is a percentage of dis-trust in it..
conflicting irony they call it,
how can you dis-trust and love, they are opposite.
we are made in God's image, we are made in the image of LOVE, does that mean perfection is granted to all those who are believers?
depending on how you see life ,
the pitcher there, do you see it as half empty or half full
what about your gratitude towards your parents how do you see that glass?
Would seeing the glass as half full when you believe it is in fact as empty as a sponged, squeezed?
just give it a  paradoxical shrug, these kinds of situations are difficult, but normal, bound to happen right?
God chose belief in my ordanement , redeemed aren't I ?
Redeemed until validated my the ticket holder of my life and heart, the judge of my doings, the criticism I openly accept, as long as it's through verbal or small practical eveyday spiritual acts . I accept that I am chosen for his kingdom, that his love has an actual warmth, sitting in a melting *** of the fireplace infused with the cold air knocking, like an unwelcomed visitor .
The irony sets in
we'd all had a good laugh at that, we'd laugh so hard and got it all on camera, I think we'd have a shot and one of those zestful family movies, we'd at least get a premiere on abc channel  and its got just enough of a zoetiec vibe for lifetime.
the dictionary's failed attempt at defining the depth and the vague imprint it left on my brain, torturing me to awaken from my cocoon and speak,
for my ancestors and the divine woman that is Deidra, Thee divine woman(along with the help of the divine masculine) who taught me to open my mouth if you've got something to say,
Who knew that those words were seeds!?
I studied her as she sewed them everyday religiously, even on the rainy days when life seemed to be in the midst of hurricane force winds, she watered that garden the best she knew how and to me it is perfection.I'd try to convince her not to worry about my garden so much that she'd forget to have her flowers bloom
The divine woman a natural incubator , genetically undeniable that we are the divinity this world needs. She knew of my reaping harvest and that it would grow to be my inner voice, that is love.I am wise
you know what zoetic means to me?
zoetic is the slashes against my back until the age of seventeen, i think zoetic are the beautiful dressings that hold us
capture us, in fear of  running off into something so beautifully damaged people might -pay more attention to the clown than the performance.
one of those and even the "non spitiual people",
what right did i have to be set apart from the world
an evolving theory that grows only in fondness and size of it's essence,
only air , unparalleled
you dare not have a speck of shame you, look in the mirror if you'd like but careful not to interfere with his creation, or its is a matter of time before your left like ...
adam and eve...
floating.
to have that privilege, to my mother

I imagined what our past-times would resemble, that you’d vacate my soul with a message, in times, I need, remember.

maybe it would be poetic, or wise in hindsight, something that’d force my mind to clear the mess in the backseat to make room for a new shotgun rider

an inquiry you leave me with daily, as our hands unmesh and I drift off into sleep, that is the only time you leave, and quickly appear as i awake, without you, How could i face the day?

A stone immortal you are, with no works of erosion, to seep through your cracks, your spirit un-touched, you are the concrete to my heart, unfinished knicks and knacks. i’d never put  youdown, divine in me tells me “reach for your crown, it’s time we take a break, I’ll never leave you but it is now my time, to clear the backseat and make way.”.

as i watch her tidy up the backseat moving chaos and fear into the far right corner, she hops in the back and sits where I can see her,

navigating me, acting as an GPS, divine in me I trust in nothing less.

— The End —