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Melody Mann Mar 30
Entrusted with sovereignty they set sail,
Prepared to face the threats that lie beyond the horizon,
Responders to the call of the weary are they who defend our fortress,
Mystics and heroines hoisted to battle at the drop of a flag,
An alliance to marvel by all in the land,
Legends are they whose sacrifices sustain our livelihood,
Its power vested in communion.
Ivan Brooks Sr Feb 2020
Yesterday, When the world was young
and the earth was still beautiful.
When happy day was nature's song
and the devil was still merciful.

Yesterday, way before the computer
and the inception of the internet.
That was before Jedi and skywalker,
eons before Elizabeth and Phillip met.

Before the information highway
and way before social media.
Before the first play on Broadway,
and the Biafra war in Nigeria.

Yesterday, before we lost focus
and mankind got infected with the very addictive FB virus.
Yesterday, before Twitter was created.

Yesterday was only time and space.
It was the time that God realized
that the earth was a very sad place.
God's plan was not yet finalized.

Yesterday will never return but it was the beginning of today and the end of the day before yesterday.
There is strange comfort in knowing that
no matter what happens today,
the Sun will rise again tomorrow.
The freedom of the open road is seductive,
serendipitous and absolutely liberating.
At some point, you just gotta forgive the past,
your happiness hinges on it
Explore the experience, original and intelligently
Then Push Beyond
Resist against part of the mind, you’re unable to achieve in mastering, like it’s been said before. ‘It’s too bad, ignorance isn’t painful.’ The snake, the rat, the cat, the goat, how are you going to see the dogs, if you’re living in the fog? Poetry cannot solely be the image of heartbreaks and new love. Nobody wants your dance or poetry kisses. Who’s your biggest fan? This life is brief and it’s pain runs deep. Drowning in effort, over the duration of you life, starlight turmoil, commit to art and die in glory. Every poem should now be on the theme of remembering, death is always definite, as for the immortality in this world, it’s soul-selling. People smile until others forget their name. Only poetry can read my mind, fewer friends will know that and only my lover can reach my inner-world, it’s my style. Life happens will it’s self-discovery or self-destructing and I’ll ride or die and best feeling I’ve ever had, is when I turn a new leaf, forgetting the world I’ve parted with, until I learn how normal the new are. We’re not vibing. Do not enter art, you’ll be poor of wealth, as for most, that’s what they value, how to measure success, few can achieve what some had already have. As for my lover, I cannot give gifts of these world, so, I only give my own words, forming poetry of high beauty, to which they’ll never articulate the sensations of touching illumination that you have given me, but they’ll do for now, poems unseen in this world. True kunst are in their everyday actions, grandeur happens, when the world turns and notices, and a smile is produced, it won’t last long, some of us like to read, but ignorance is always easy, it will be.
(knowledge variable)
In the time of dying, you’ll remember when you
have meet and turned away from thee lover, for
whatever mystical reason, redemption can be
offered, whisper their name, whisper it loud echos,
never stop the streaming image of thy lover, there
is no cure for love, none, you’ll carry the lover
over to the next life. Will it be a burden or blessing?
Harley Hucof Apr 2018
i write to enlight
myself to survive
the path i chose
to have in life
so i scream
who could hear?
or see?
or relate
to the kid who
hides alone
at the break
high on
the steps
that are made
from within
his soul and craved
in an art form
so he could have a home
to bear the storm
coming to reform
the norms
of his instincts
so he keeps distant
trying to keep a link with the
and it works
since it's
from within  
the layers of the skin
that makes my head spin
every time i remember where i have been.

Words Of Harfouchism
no punctuation  find your own way to read this poem
To why I think poverty is worse than
addiction. Not only destitution gives
you reasons to take any junk, but
destitution will suffocate you while
you’re clean. To life can be grandeur
giving reasons to be grandiose and
as for the rest of life, you’ll resent it.
You’ll fall in love, when it needs you,
break it’s heart, it raise hell, calling
upon the rapture, if you get the chance.
you better conquer it and live beyond
what’s human’s call royalty.
(To my mystics locked up, by culture
and ignorance,
soldiers of
the century, directly organised, to analyse
crimes and out directly, looking
The only thing that fades in our lifetime,
despite our decaying bodies. Is that of
true love, we’ve all meet them and at
most times, in passionless passages
duration in unpoetic times, we’ve let
them go. Poetry, everyone knows you
and scream your name in heartbreak,
never again will you be alone
Oh poetry, how you let more than a thousand
flowers bloom in the form of souls. Smile
for me now. Because in daily ease.
Jason Cain Nov 2017
Divinity is an infinite concept- never ending and never beginning. Before creation there was the Divine and after attainment there is the Divine. To move within the Divine Way is to move within eternity. Within the eternally passionate and spontaneous movement of Divinity is the fullness of omnipotence.

To follow the Divine Spirit is to live within the shadow of creation. It is the ecstasy of “Buddhahood attained” and then laughed at in the ****** of eternity. It is Enlightenment or Holiness always, then steadfastly shunned in the decadence of their implications.

To move within the oneness of the Divine is to perceive the sameness of things, but things are things and to say that they have no meaning, or that all meaning is one meaning, is to be lost within the ocean of the void- the indulgence of omnipotence.

To follow the Divine Spirit is to understand the deeper meaning of things. All worlds of the escapist and the realist are both real and unreal, for the Divine is Enlightenment, but illusionary in its idealistic terms. It is the great river on its never ending journey to the sea, but to reach the ocean is to be lost, to cease to be, for it is always within the journey that one finds meaning and never at journey’s end.

Those that do not know the harmony of the Divine live in materialistic emptiness. I WANT, I WANT, I WANT – a childish form of avarice, of impulsiveness and sentimentality, a continuous grasping, a world full of desire – the very foundations of fear and affliction. Those that proclaim the Divine find nothing but discriminative idealism. I AM, I AM, I AM – the indulgence of pride and love – an idealism based on a relativistic compassion, concealing in truth a desire for self-worship.

For those who travel in tune with the harmonics of the Divine- IT IS, IT IS, IT IS – spirit reflects its own reward. The bonds of illusion fall as leaves from a tree in autumn; all is right within the world for Spirit moves within.
This poem express the perfection of spiritual enlightenment and how the spirit moves within the enlightened, and yet paradoxically the enlightened one must rejected enlightenment as a false truth.
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