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Gift Gugu Mona Dec 2019
She is so exquisite
Even without make-up on her face
She is very special
Even if she lets others seem important
She is selfless
Even when the selfish surround her
She offers a lot of love
Even so, she needs it often
She has a big heart
Even though she appears small
She lets others belong
But she longs to be appreciated

She adds value
Despite her own worth being undermined
She is attentive
Nonetheless, no one pays attention to her needs
She is patient
No matter how long it takes she waits
She is giving
While no one could be willing to give
She is forgiving
Much as the worst was done against her
She is trusting
Albeit her trust was broken countless times

She is wise
In spite of being treated otherwise by some
She works hard
Notwithstanding that she requires rest
She is helpful
Yet, there is none to lend her a hand
She makes life seem easy
Whilst going through difficult times herself
She stands by others
Although there is no one to stand by her
She chooses to be peaceful
Against being somehow provoked

She is calm
Undeterred by what is not
She is bold
In defiance of tough battles ahead
She shows bravery
Still in the presence of adversity
She is fearless
Though she may seem helpless
She is spirited
Contrary to attempts to bring her down
She is never destroyed
Irrespective of storms she faces sometimes

She keeps moving forward
Granting the hindrances along the way
She stands in the gap
And make things happen
She does not look down on others
Regardless of some doing so to her
She recognizes those who shielded her on rainy days
Whenever the sun shines upon her
She keeps on running her race
Because she knows for her, grace is abundant
She puts a smile on, always
Since prayer keeps her in the right place

She is an inspiration
A pioneer of transformation
Cheer leader for economic revolution
How the world adores such
A remarkable woman!
From My Mother's Classroom: A Badge of Honour for a Remarkable Woman
Cardboard-Jones Mar 2019
Yet again I zone out on these back streets
Guided by the instinct
Of my former self.
I can see the past now,
Pretentiously smiling back.

There’s things I can’t escape,
But everything else, I just ran.
My eyes were focused on the clouds.
I can remember seeing the places that I’ve never been
For the first time
And the last time.

I was swinging for the moon.
I knew I would see it soon.
Did I oversleep? Did I overdream?
It still thinks about me to this day.

The past is something I wanna eject from my brain.
Then lock it in a box and never ever see it again.
But the past still thinks of me to this day.

I was swinging for Mars
Or at the very least, the stars.
Couldn’t hesitate, no time to delay.
I’m still trying to find the best way.
But I think back to in that classroom asking myself why.
Why can’t I just walk away?

It still thinks about my everyday.
I still think about it to this day.
Payton Hayes Jun 2018
You are the pioneer
after the fire,
with silver-grey and
blue-green leaves,
pods filled with seeds,
and brilliant yellow
flowerheads.
When you lived in the
mountains, you were
dressed in white-
lichen and snow.
Brian McDonagh Jun 2018
A pioneer
Is one to plunge its own nature
Into the unknown unnatural,
Such as Daniel Boone and the woods,
Or a **** sprouting
Between the crannies of gravel.
Andrew Saunders May 2018
If I'm wrong, I die.
I cease to exist.
But I know what it's like not to exist.
Or at least I can imagine.

I didn't exist before I did.
For billions of years.
And Mark Twain was right.
It didn't bother me in the slightest.

But I'll give it a chance.

I will read Awake!
And I'll visit the Hall.
And I'll use your name for God.
Jehovah.

But what if you're wrong?
You feel joy, love, peace.
Meaning, purpose, certainty.
Those things elude me.

But what else?
Fear? Guilt? Isolation?
A hatred that you call pity?
Those things are beyond my reach.

An education cut short?
A marriage too long?
"Don't talk to her.
It's for her own good."

What if it's not?

There will always be people trying to hurt you.
It's easier when they have God on their side.

"Two eyes saw this, but two others did not.
I'll take my reward now.
Did I mention I'm good with kids?"

What if you're wrong?

Sure, your Tower is tall.
It dwarfs my cathedral.
And it does.
I stand in awe.

Your Tower is tall.
It Watches all things.
And it does.
But is it tall enough to see Clearwater?

You know, Celebrity Centers and personality tests.
Cruise and Travolta.
Your names are different: Michael Jackson and Prince.
But the songbook is the same.

Leadership is accountable to no one.
Dissent is a **** that must be eliminated.
The world is out to get you.
And critical thinking is a trap.

Families are vital (until they aren't).
Our authority will not be questioned.
We make no mistakes.
But we do become more perfect over time.

"But it's not 'disconnection,' it's disfellowship.
And they're not 'suppressives,' they're apostates.
And we live in no bubble.
But we'd rather not debate you."

"Besides, they're new.
They're small and they're few.
They have strange beliefs.
That's what matters, right?"

But it's not.
It's not what matters.

And it's not in my nature to hurt people.
I can **** when it's justified.
But I don't know that this is justified.

And consider the life of a poor, worldly soul.
Fear is no friend.
Guilt is a memory.
(Guilt for things that warrant no guilt.)

We see the world as it is.
Science is no threat.
Solitude is a choice, not a lesson.

Education is full.
Abuse is reported.
Families talk.

We are slaves to no Slave.

Of course these things are foreign to you.
Your book precludes them.
And your book is infallible.
But so are all the others.

So thank you for visiting, but I'm hedging my bets.
I wish you the best, but I'd rather take death.
I was raised religious but am now an atheist. This poem depicts an imagined conversation between me and a group of Jehovah's Witnesses. The content is informed by a very dear friendship with a Witness and a personal interest in cults and other high-control groups.
Tyrel Headley Dec 2016
I look up into the deep blackness
A kind of dark that swallows your soul
Makes you question your existence

The thrusters shake the ground and scorch the earth
Inertia holds me back as the shuttle propels me forward
The feeling of weightlessness and peace

Interrupted
Engine failure
Pressure drop
Eject

Alone surrounded in the darkness
I look down at my blue home
I see the answers to my questions
A cry of regret goes unheard
K G Dec 2016
There's a war through the kitchen and out by the lake
Close the door, let my footwear flick off the roof
Determined to get rid of the dust from my eye
I'll go for a swim, think, and ****** a gaze
Of gusts of wind that would impair my stride
If that spider happens to bite on the thigh
I'd use my left hand as cannonballs
And a pill to reality as my right
KG
Grace Pickard Jan 2015
And I live walking amongst your old path
I am a continuation of what you once were-
The pioneer of where you failed to head
I bear the heavy load of tear stricken goodbyes
The memories of softly fleeting lullabies
I am a lost spiritual savant reaching down
Kissing earths luscious soil with a frown-
By virtue of separating myself from the whole
Yet-
From you I've developed an individual soul

Strip me of all of lives riches-
And I am but an impression of everything that's alive and dead
Death and memories... Continuation of the deceased from birth, like everyone else- no matter who or what everything impacts you and stays with your mind. Our ancestors live within our thoughts and memories. I don't want to disappoint them. I am never earthly grounded, but it may be necessary in order to live for them and for myself. Communication and socializing- spending time with those I love is my top priority.
Sy Lilang May 2014
You’ve moved a step forward
And life won’t be the same.
But after the round of applause
Your daydream is abruptly ended.

Now, take your turn
To walk the stage
After the microphones echoes
Projecting your name.

(3/21/14 @xirlleelang)
Sy Lilang May 2014
The woman is perfected
She wears the smile of accomplishment,
The illusion of a her Greek-necessity.

Flows in the scrolls of her toga,
Her bare feet seem to be saying,
“We have come so far,
Now it’s over.”

Each new-born being coiled,
Black auras, black all over
One at each little pitcher of milk,
Once empty,
They’re poured out
With enough knowledge
From where they were fitted.

She has folded it back
Into her body as petals
Of a rose close
Her desire, her dream
They’re all in hand!

When the garden stiffens and odors bleed
From the sweet, deep throats
Of the night flower
She’ll remain awake.

The stars shall utter her name
Staring from her hood of victory
She’s used to this sort of thing
But it’s the grandest as of now.

(3/21/14 @xirlleelang)
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