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Of chancellery
Egyptian charm
Rosetta stone
Within his arms
He never thought
He'd do her harm
He kept her safe
His special cairn.

Upon his altar she was set
Phylactery, his amulet
Tears of gratitude he wept
For such a prize
As what he kept

But though she had
The center stage
All the time
She fumed with rage
He was a fool
She was a sage
So he kept her
In a cage.

Then one day
Whilst fool was sleeping
At her feet while
She was weeping
She spied a weapon
He was keeping
He had sowed...
... now he was reaping!

A candlestick
Of leaded weight
She reached out
Of the cage's gate
Though she was
In prisoner's state
She knocked it off
And sealed his fate!

This was not wisdom
To break his bone.
For she was then
Quite well alone
Yes... she'd put him
In his tomb
But, caged, she had then

Sealed her own
.
Be careful what you make an idol...

Sorry I haven't been around. I don't write poetry so much anymore. I'm working as an artist now. Thanks for understanding.
Cat Lynn Jun 20
The life you want
Is not yours to have

The life you want
You believe would make you more glad

The life you want
You covet and try to steal away

The life you want
Is not yours to claim

The life you want
Is all my life is

THIS IS MY LIFE
BUT YOU WANT ME TO GIVE!

The life you want
Would be two of mine

My life is what you want!
You've crossed the line

The life you want
Prohibits me from being special

The life you want
Will only fire missiles

The life you want
I can not understand

When the life you want
Is everything I am...
I have not comment for this poem


I'm so tired of myself
Will May 10
Late at night I would watch and watch.
A smile was usually plain to see across my face.
Not every joke would land, nor every video a hit.
But no matter what I would always watch.
Today I leaned of your horrible ways.
All of the terrible things you had done, day after day.
I know it hurt those who knew you best, but it also hurt me deep in my chest.
I lost a hero, though we never met.
Gone are the late nights, gone are those pleasant thoughts.
But I still will live with joy and smiles, but for now I will walk on.
Away from your videos, now turned vile
Today I lost someone I'd looked up to for a long time. It genuinely hurts to think about. As always, processing through poetry helps.
When love is all you need,
why not love me?
I am not your lover
Though I may be your bestie
I am not kin to your father or mother
Yet we are related
I am not your friend
But I can be your enemy
I am not your teacher
Though I can be your student
I am not your God
Though I can be your idol

Who am I?

If love is all you need,
Why not love me?

I am you
Your body is a perfect image of God. Don't harm it please! Thanks for reading!
Heavy Hearted Mar 29
As the growing world unraveled
And I began the dismal ascension of maturity
I stumbled out the  fog of childhood
And there you were:

Advice to head and educate
A Battlecry and a Mandate.

Faith; in things to happen yet
Strength in knowledge- hope in regret;

Stories expressing casually:
Evils impartiality. and
tales of golden fantasies

How no drug is ever stronger than me.

These few phrases I imagine, you see
Into dreams only I can keep.
from start until the seventh day
Waking hour's dreamless sleep.

Oh how you cushion the destruction-
the entrancement of seduction
to paint to play to grow to teach
Expression extending as I reach
.
A letter to the greatest artist
You once told me
that Monday was Thursday,
Tuesday was Friday
and Wednesday...
-well Wednesday was Wednesday
and I believed it to be true

You were the force
that pulled the sun across my sky
and brought rain,
miraculously placing laughter
on my parched lips.
You wrote the maps
and formed minutes into hours
-letters into words
And when you smiled,
I believed it was just for me.

Your wish was my command
and my truth was your word.
I happily danced
when you pulled on my strings.

You vanished in a storm
and the blur of October, November,
February
Here one moment, gone the next
-with no goodbye,
apology or promise-prophecy.

But my world kept flowing
and the sun traced its arc
across my sky without your help.
My chest rose and fell
and Monday was Monday again
-the rain poured of its own accord
and my cracked lips found song.

Perhaps you have returned
from time to time
to your empty temple
-found it void of worship
and the voids filled once more.
Perhaps the legends are true
and you have become
deaf and blind
-unable to find your way back to me.

I should like the rumours
to be true
because my world turns
just fine without you.
I have no further words for this poem. It is all at once everything I wished to say, and nothing of importance.
rita powell Feb 25
giraffe comes to the dinner party
rabbit in the moon
shark flies through night sky
to devour dancers in the cage
white tiger leaps to cover my eyes
what kind of song is this?
Inspired by a Korean zen koan by Master Hyobong and the BTS MV Idol
There stands the Idol on the Square,
Glistening in its glazed, gold splendor and so-called glory.
Its sun does not shine on it because it is important,
The sun shines on it because the Idol is simply there, simply there to bask in it all.
But then come the first tribe of people who walk into the empty square,
Who walk into the Idol’s city looking for company.
All they see is the Idol, a figure firm and masculine
Yet it is also lean and feminine.
All who see the Idol’s seductive stare,
With its crafted eyes gazing like a graceful serpent’s eyes
Believe the Idol to be holy
As it glistens in its glazed, gold splendor and so-called glory.

The first tribe looks above, hungry and hopeful.
They sit down in front of the idol, as they are taken by its chiseled, serpentine form.
Then the second tribe comes in and notices the first tribe eyeing the Idol.
The Idol eyes the newfound fans flocking by the handful.
The second tribe sits down to gather around the Idol and forget their long journey
To wherever they were supposed to be or whatever they were supposed to do.
Then tribe after tribe leers in line and take their time from the wilderness
To bask in the Idol’s wisdom of wasting without worrying,
As it glistens in its glazed, golden splendor and so-called glory.

The tribe members sit around the Idol, looking up and demanding peace
From treading arid deserts,
Walking through moist, flesh melting jungles,
And venturing through bone biting arctic winds
And forgetting the larger presence around them
That lead these folk to the danger of this place
And what would lead them away from the Idol.

The tribe members dance around the Idol.
They blend their blistering, bruised bodies close to the Idol’s golden platform,
Against each other in a violent **** of screams, moans, and demands for where they are
In their mortal life and for the realm beyond the weary bone and flesh they inhabited.
They ask constantly of what they can do for the Idol,
All while forgetting about a larger purpose of their own god
And why they were walking around in the wilds in the first place.
Instead, they are entranced by the Idol’s mute music
That rings in their heads, which screams from the closed mouth of the Idol
In its glazed, golden splendor and so-called glory

The shriveling tribes bow down to the Idol’s grace without individual care
with their rib cages poking out and their mouths dry with drought.
In their weakness, the tribes goad the Idol
To perform a miracle of strength like or more than their own god,
Or even more than each tribe member can do.
Yet their minds are sinking into a haze of ash
From the fire they burn around the Idol to hopefully bring it to full life
And their skin is black and charred from pouring all the goods and money
Into the ring of fire surrounding the Idol
They give their nourishment to a being built on the basis of needing no sustenance
Except its own and the lives it is stealing from the people around it.

The tribes holler and howl for the Idol to answer their wishes for a safer haven
Than the barren one they are frivolously wasting in now.
They desecrate their individuality with conformist chants used to glorify their god
But instead are used to glorify the Idol with ragged throats.
The Idol still stands, blind, deaf ,and mute
To the tribes’ kisses,
To the tribe’s prayers,
And to the tribes’ outstretched arms grasping for salvation.
The Idol basks in the tribes’ ignorance yet ignores their ignorance
In its glazed, glistening, so-called glory.

The Idol on the Square
Stands in a pool of starved and dying bodies
Still pleading in weathered whispers,
And still gripping the Idol’s platform with bony fingers.
All these tribes, all these offerings to the vultures
Perching on the tops of buildings, on the lamp posts, and on the city gutters.
They were once followers of their own god,
And of their own destinies,
But they are now the followers of the Idol,
The Idol of Death,
The Idol of Damnation,
The Idol of Starvation,
And the Idol of Lamentation.

They are followers of the Idol on the Square
In its glazed, glistening, so-called glory.
Kleigh Oct 2018
Performing full of passion
Watching you through my vision
You catch my attention
And I ended with admiration
You don't have an exact description
'Cos you're the best than my expection
And totally beyond my imagination

Before, I live for nothing
As you came it's worthliving
You are life changing
You give my life full of meaning
Everything you do keeps my heart beating
You are the reason behind this feeling
You keep my heart trembling
Can't help just keep on admiring

It is not an obsession
Just giving me a daily motivation
And become my life inspiration

You always makes me smile
Even the distance between us are
thousand miles
This kind of situation is totally fine
I love you as a man
But you love me as a fan
I love you even though you are not mine.
Dedicated to a man I never have
TD Nov 2018
We are enslaved by acceptance. Who cares if we are the sore thumbs...who really cares if our identity is a blight or a fist raised in solidarity.
And yet—-
and yet—-
I milk these words like they were nuggets of wisdom..Rumpelstiltskin and his straw. We trade in our straw for bricks and build a Sphinx in our search for acknowledgement. We create what we cannot understand and lick our chops while being gobbled up by our idols.

Touche’ reflection..
touche’!
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