Lyn-Purcell May 16
Mirror mirror on the wall
Who's the saddest of them all?

How can I embrace a beauty I don't even see?
How can I feel worthy when I'm scared to even feel?
How can I feel strong when I've been broken to my knees?
How can I feel valued when I'm not even noticeable?

Mirror mirror on the wall
Who's the saddest of them all?

In a man's world, I need a man's skin
so the woman in me can really win.
White was it in the end
no colour, no
the pale skin
an uneasy peace
frightened with shadows
what in the end it came as white
a stream of light
in the night.

Changed what could not be
disturbed yet still
alive to see the shine
the sun, this morning
cheerful to come with all the might
the end of darkness
but then the life left.

White moon flowers in the garden
wilted after fighting the night
all remains was
the feeling of the defeat
prominent after the victory
all the black dressed gathered
speaking kind words
of how she won the night
and died despite.
Blue was the winning streak that lasted decades.
The colour that held our sadness and sighs
our frustrations and cries
in silence.

Blue was the night sky
that beheld the moon and the stars
who gave their light
promising the warmth of a new day.
Even they knew that God
was watching.

Yellow was our rallying cry!
For justice to be restored,
so that righteousness
would rule once again,
as it always has reigned
in our hearts.

Red, the hope flowing through
our veins as we anticipate
the rise of a new day.
Red, the sacrifices we were
willing to make.
Red, the blood shed for this land.

Red, our new victory!
our new clarity,
our new vision,
our new hope.

Now, white for all the
unfilled spaces in between
the empty gaps like
the potholes in the road
that had collapsed long ago

For all the possibilities
that are yet to be

White, a reminder:
we still have a long way to go.
Malaysia has just done away with their 14th General Elections and for the first time in history, the opposition won! I wrote a poem according to the colours of our national flag, the Jalur Gemilang in commemoration of this historic event!
Lyn-Purcell May 1
Your truth is not my truth nor is it the truth.
The truth is the truth is not easy.
The truth is the truth has many roads, many forests.
But the truth will always be the truth:
Honest and harsh and damaging
but alive and freeing.
The truth is the truth can be a defeat as well as victory.
The truth is the truth is a sword and shield.
Short poem I wrote in my journal.
Things are looking up...slowly and steadily granted, but looking up.
jigyasa Apr 30
it rumbles and crackles
roaring with majestic furor
consumptive and commanding  
powerful through the most dire of days
constant and driving through those of peace
the fire in my belly demands a feast
Rachel Apr 28
Is a life free of pain; no hunger for hope,
all that it enticingly seems?
Or is there more found in victory over a noose & a rope,
That could never be by achieving the highest of dreams?
Peter B Apr 27
If victory
don't let me sleep,
I will choose the defeat.
I don't even know how to
Get to first base with the ladies any more!
All I know how to do
Is how to
Perfectly place
A Sacrifice Bunt,
But it's the bottom of the 9th inning.
My Sacrifice has been successful!
The runner is leaving Third Base
And is coming Home.
Our team is gonna' win!
Art of
One smile goes a long way.
How about your dotting
Grandson eating salad leaves without dressing .
And carries on eating them.

Inspired by him I stuck all day to healthy  eating.
Just someone looking out for you.
Fighting your corner because at the end of the day.
You matter your are important.
Is that the time
Think I rest my weary head.
O’, Created! O’, Contingent!
O’, Derived! O’, Dependent!

You who slipperily
Slink shrewdly,
Have you forgotten that which was
Foretold of old?

Has not your Day
Been foreordained?

From the beginning –
The dint of my Beloved’s Fall –
You stuck out your slithery spittle
And struck man’s step

But I swore to stomp and stamp
Your scaly scalp –
Sovereignly saving and sealing
My own

Your perverted perception is purely
Fanciful and fictive fable

All that is truthful,
Wholesome, and
Has long departed your defunct capacity

O’, Father of Portentous Privation,
There is no truth in you!
You give men ‘worldly wisdom’ –
The foolhardiness of your own folly

And masquerade through
A myriad of mock-mysteries and malignance

Numerous ‘-ism’s’:

...all bear the mark of your insipid vision

But all schemes
Fall short
By virtue of their insufficiency
To truly satisfy

Yes, YOU are wholly unfulfilled and unsatisfied

Prideful pursuits perpetuate need
By now
You should have
Predicted My Plan
From Before:

To fashion the ‘fleshies’
(as you spitefully sticker them)
with virtues that can only be found
By fire

What you meant for evil,
I, all along, meant for good

Your sin,
Sorrow, and
Are my springs and sources
For instilling courage,
Perseverance, and

This tainted world,
Discolored by yourself,
Equally gives
My Own
The opportunity to have
Revealed to Them
Certain aspects and attributes
Of Myself
That would otherwise
Remain concealed

Because of your wicked work,
My Own
Have been afforded
The opportunity
To experience
My grace,
Forgiveness, and
Unconditional love

Had you never fallen,
O’ Morning Star,
The profundity of these powers
Would have persisted in perplexity!

Only are they now
All the
Against the
Blackened backdrop
Of your own corruption and depravity!
Inspired by C.S. Lewis' Screwtape Letters...and William Jefferson's Messages From Estillyen
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