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Max Oct 10
I'll pray to the devil,

as I'm living in purgatory.
Burn
btp Oct 10
i follow where my heart goes
dont bring me much farther tho
so i got this heart tatted on my sleeve
to remind me life aint no breeze
i just keep runnin with the flow
but at nights i still feel pretty low
when i sleep ill just forget
and tell lady karma ill take another bet
He woke up early and began to pray. The same way he began each day. He held back tears and fought off fears; his heart told him just what to say.

His life thus far had rocky roads. His back was bent neath heavy loads. He had no joy; no rest or peace. His constant pain would never cease.

There was no hope; no love in sight. No dawn to end his pitch-dark night. Yet somehow still he soldiered on; his prayer became his marching song.

©canadian_cowboy
Soot on LA highway signs. Billboard of you,
a real estate agent. All endeavor slides
toward inertia, extinction, forgetfulness.

It’s very tropical. Vegetation invades
the house unless constant inputs of joy
apply. The scientist in you feels the

great ape in you. The great ape feels
death growing wide. What about work?
I devote my present to my future existence.

In what way, in what sense
does one continue to resist. As
a dessicated cell, a mole of elements,

an ancient’s aura, a daguerreotype-like
shadow on a sidewalk, persistent headache,
paleolithic herbivore, potential energy, will.

Some wake up and pray, say thanks for
another day. Others curse their luck, stale breath,
the very thought of the rosy dawn makes them ill.

Lonely as leaf fall.
Nature knows no pity or self-pity
according to antiquity, the roof soot of the city.

I admire fire, tools and ore. Agriculture.
Cities, empire. Trading and taking (war).
Numbers, counting, writing. Libraries, discoveries, zero.

And the single-minded universe
that’s only a paper moon
without your love.
www.ronnowpoetry.com

--Harburg, Yip and Rose, Billy, "It's Only a Paper Moon", as performed by Nat King Cole, The King Cole Trio Vol 1, 1943.
B D Caissie Oct 6
Approaching night
Wasting light
Save my soul
Before your sight

If I should stray
Beyond this day
Make me whole
For this I pray

©
run
run
run away
for you are just another pray
run
run
run away
lives are lost and found all day
run
run
runaway
for the animals come out to play
BoringBoy Sep 24
I speak it into existence...
I will be fine,
content,
strong,
and happy.

Though the fall is coming, the winter shadows it.
And through that shadow, gloom lurks.

There will be a crooked reality,
depression,
gloom,
and for some, joy.
.
.
But even after that, it lingers.

Not this time. Let it be crooked.
Let it be corrupted.
But I refuse to let it prosper this year.

I will win.
I will shine.
I will be warming,
joyful,
complete.

I will love, care, and share my joy, gracefully.



Everything has a flaw, but everything isn't beautiful.
This winter, beautiful depravity, will be beautifully crooked.
I speak it into existence.
Carmen Jane Sep 23
No one can hear, your symphony escaped through the gaps of your teeth
No one taught you, how to pray or in what you should believe
Your weary bones, don't know which road to choose and take,
As you stumbled on this crossroad and want to avoid mistakes


I should say, spin around as fast as you can,
Let yourself fall and reach out your hands
See which road you touched and before you step,
Squinch your eyes and try to see as much ahead


If you see some sunny patches, that is good, my friend,
And if you see some cloudy corners, that is not the end
You'll be sure to find your way, trust me when I say
I see how strong you are and how you can lighten up a day!
Carry me with you
Into the light
When I close my eyes
Ever so tight
I see you
Fill me up with your words of love
Take this upon you
My true love
You lift me up
When my spirits are down
You hold me close
I never look down
True love of mine
You were so far away
Now that you’re here
I will always pray
That our love will never die
Please hold my hand
You see me cry
What if Creator
Was not so grand?
What if Creator
Was a grain of sand?
What if Creator
Was simply bland?

Would we glory in death and ******?
Would we pretend we never heard Her?
Would we love each other more?
or
Would we open a Sacred door?

If Creator were nothing more
Than all the electrons ever formed,
Creator would be:
Timeless, Infinite, Omniscient, Everything, and More…

Would we accept a notion like this?
Would fundamentalists balk or twist?
Would Atheists be found or lost?
Would we freeze in permafrost?
Would we seek Divine ballet?
Would we still kneel to pray?

Or would we:

War some more?
Ignore some more?
***** some more?
Work some more?
Explore some more?
Invent some more?
Love some more?
Or just ignore?

Would our lives even change?
Would we still call someone strange?

Would we even miss a beat?
Would we ever try to cheat?

Would evil men change to nice?
Would we still farm our rice?

Would a killer give a hug?
Would any of us do a drug?

Would our lives remain as cheap?
Would we never awake from sleep?


I don’t know.
There are enough questions there for you to take my point. Maybe the rhyming is simply too much here for serious consideration. This was an attempt to meld high concept with some kind of rhyme and meter. Meh, the more I edit the more I want to destroy this and never show it again. I feel my professors wagging fingers at me! (Ack! Stop it, Dr. Nelson)

:)
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