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TD Aug 2020
It is not in the words we say
but in how or when we choose to speak them
that creates an impact.

What do we see behind our testimony?
Are we giving lip service to ideas propelled by fear?
Are we compelled to cater to a narrative that belittles one and uplifts another?

Has the source compelling us to change
created movements that perpetuate change
that crosses the divide?
Or instead, used pain to destroy all chances of hope for some,
and stirred dissension in others.
Power cloaked in repentance,
weapons of warfare laced
by silver tongues in pursuit of personal salvation.

Loud speech only covers sins,
it does nothing to heal the sores
the beleaguered mouths
that wretch in open spaces.
Are we corruptible pawns or warriors for peace?

Are words a means to an end, or a bridge to give light and joy to all?

Words do not have souls, but humans do.
They are broken more easily than they are built up.

We cannot bring truth to the past and change it.
We cannot hide the shame of an ancestry steeped in mistakes.
We learn from them,
but do not dismember the voices of imperfect people
who discovered truth beyond their errors,
beyond the angst and hatred
and strove for change.

We are weak
all of us.

No one is only singled out on their merits
they are bound by them
propelling them to further understanding.

Words are freedom fighters.
Words are oppressors.
Yet they are what we make them
what we imperfect label them.

The present is here--at this moment.
We cannot waste words on ideals that shift with the tide.

Our freedoms came by a hope for shared freedom--
not singularity.
Not an ill-begotten desire to pick and choose what cause we seek
for a sense of purpose.
Our souls are our great equalizers
and they've existed since
before ideals became ostentatious trophies,
before preying on the weak became a sign of strength.

We are generals of generalization,
some sourced from the darkness,
others based on sad truths.

Sad truths that can make us bitter,
or create impactful reflection and change our hearts
so that we can love others until they long for light as well.  

Are we soldiers joined by a brotherhood
blood that transcends our histories
that encompasses a compassion
which goes deeper than our mistakes?

Or are we driven to be vigilantes
enacting our own form of justice?
A justice that gives no one a chance to truly live
but only to survive?

Think--imagine--every word uttered is a future changed.
Deliberate before delivery.
Our tongues enflame hearts or
are welcome salve on open wounds.

Thought-filled silence
is more impactful than
haughty speech
and heated blood.  

A genteel action is far above a violent storm,
it is the eye and the storm

And words are a beautiful rapport

when we embrace our faulty fellow man.

Before sharing becomes a self-serving display
and truth a little less important than lies
let us remember that lives begin and end

on the weightiness of words.
I used to believe that my words didn’t matter, but as I age I’m learning how the tongue can be wielded a terrible weapon and yet when seasoned with truth and love a beacon of light. One of my biggest regrets has been the damage I’ve delivered when I lived vicariously through a false sense of who I wanted to be and was caught up in my own insecurities.
TD Feb 24
Robust the shaven peaks peer
over valleys’ rolling waves.
The tousled morning hair
harsh brush strokes defiant
in the wake of prism light.

One smoky-eyed vagrant
stakes a brazen claim
appropriating mountain currants
for slashes of vermillion
and barren promises.
Picture prompt under the dark sky from deviant art
Autumn Feb 11
Dusk's beauty
Attention demanded
Magnificence painted
For did I see the tricolour
Blue,purple -pink, orange fading in the skyline
Feeling undescribed❤
It was just too beautiful that u can't take my eyes off it ⛅
Madison Feb 4
You ask me to paint for you.
You said you love all my paintings.
I know that I will never be satisfied,
nothing could ever be good enough for you.
Im trying but all I want to paint is you
Juverine Wan Jan 27
Creativity cannot be conjured,
Without a little madness.
It is in the crazy that we find,
the beauty beyond us.

Strokes of paint mean nothing,
without a story or emotion.
In our medium we find ourselves,
Creation and Destruction.

The world here calls me a lunatic,
An amateur, a monstrosity.
But today you label me 'crazy',
Tomorrow you label me 'visionary'.
hello everyone! this inspired by my idea of being a little crazy as an artist.
I hope you like it!
Karly Codr Jan 13
i like to imagine
what my art looks like
before i put it on the page
it never looks like
what i imagine it to be
but i've learned
not to be disappointed
when it doesn't turn out
how i want it to
Savio Fonseca Dec 2020
I shall paint, your Portrait Tonight.
As U unwrap, your Fashion.
To picture, your Beautiful Soul.
With all it's Freedom and Passion.
Lips I shall paint, in Rosy Pink
and Eyes, in Lightish Blue.
Coz when U smile at Me...Darling.
I'm lost in the Universe, with U.
I shall sharpen, all your Curves.
Hope My Eyes, don't go Blind.
Coz seeing your Beauty, My Love.
Even a Saint, will lose His Mind.
Soon My Masterpiece, will be ready.
So Don't fall off to Sleep.
We can Romance all Night.....Honey.
The Memories, We both can Keep.
Savio Fonseca Dec 2020
U chained Me, with your Eyes
and choked Me, with your Love.
I long so much, for your Hand.
Coz U are, an Angel from Above.
Your Kisses, are Sweet as Honey
and pour, like the Torrential Rain.
They sow My Heart, with Love
and relieve Me, of all My Pain.
If U ask Me, for the Stars.
I'll bring down, the Moon to U.
I'm Happy, to see U Smile.
Underneath the Sky, that's Blue.
Paint Me, your Rainbow Nights.
Each time, We get in Bed.
Coz I want to Hear U Moan.
Before the Sun, shows it's Head.
wizmorrison Dec 2020
Sticky red blood in my foes
As I cut their flesh off,
Smelly rotten red liquid
Paints the white canvas in the room.
This is from my Wattpad poetry collection, Coffin Of Thoughts.
mark soltero Dec 2020
what can i say
when the words die
inside the void of my own selfish mind

does the diction of my tongue
evoke an uneasy feeling within you
when i stare into the paint of this filthy room
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