#dogma
Pressing pause, perhaps mid-dogma,
stopping the clock from moving
forward while you’re readying
to commit, allowing your listening
to catch up with your hearing, giving
a moment’s pause, allowing
a deeper breath ahead of taking
the next step, perhaps contemplating
where to place your foot - changing
your long held direction, gauging
the sudden breeze, stepping
back or testing
the next step of faith
- all this is possible in this pause called poetry.
Sep 28, 2025
Sep 28, 2025 at 4:40 PM UTC
Life whispers through cracks
in our certainties—
a trickster breaching walls
we mistake for shelter.
Dogma: anchors in shifting tides.
The wise sailor knows when
to cut the line.
Apr 18, 2025
Apr 18, 2025 at 3:45 AM UTC
There’s a skeptic I know who remains inconvincible
Certain that logic is something invincible
Loathe to accept
The secrets well kept
Unable to pinpoint the primary principle
Oct 2, 2024
Oct 2, 2024 at 5:55 AM UTC
Dogma and doctrine only hide the Truth
that is our birthright since the time of youth.
We have all been led to believe the lies
which the authorities show to our eyes.
The passage of time often does the rest
and makes sure curiosity fails the test
to uncover the truth that's been hidden
by all this dogma and doctrine ridden.
Ignorance is a strong, powerful force
that stalls investigations in due coarse
when people begin to suspect the wrong
they have been subjected to all along.
Authorities try to keep their power
with the dogma and doctrine they shower
onto the people who look up to them
quelling the light of truth that they condemn.
Nowhere else does this happen as often
but in religious faith which can soften
the hearts and minds of people to believe
that something else is just there to deceive.
A sad case of the blind leading the blind
which is one of the follies of mankind
who are led to believe what they're given
is the truth being like victims driven.
This doesn't mean that something else is true
unless it has been proven so by you;
through personal experience that stays
in your heart or mind and the doubt allays.
Take for example those few converts who
formed the body of the early church new;
what kind of experience each one had
making them join up and feel very glad.
_________________
Jan 31, 2022
Jan 31, 2022 at 4:29 AM UTC
*
Religion watered lies with cultivated fears
Pure liquid guilt methodically poured down ****** ears
Harnessed young thoughts to grim shadowed years
Harvested dumb belief in blood, sweat, and tears
Constant torture over the soul's fate
Hideously murdered that innocent state
Contrivances uttered with no trace of hate
Whose venoms still stain now balding pate
Taught to fear what we fail to understand
The devil himself possessed the idlest hand
Preferring instead to let us hang ourselves
Ironclad morals dragging us down to our hells
*
May 28, 2021
May 28, 2021 at 4:38 AM UTC
Stripped of rhymes
Stripped of bars
Maintaining only the most basic structure
Maybe this isn’t poetry
But it is creative writing
And I hope you find it illuminating
And thought-provoking.
The people of Oz had their wizard. A legend being capable of great feats. One could only speak to him in his chamber. His mythos came from those he amazed, who would embellish their descriptions of his power so much, that he had to hide away to protect the truth of his abilities or lack thereof. This conundrum does not exist exclusively in fiction. In history, when humankind’s logic was not as keen to such deceptions, many times power was asserted. A small group hides themselves in a cave, coming out to give commands and create rules for people who believed lies. People that believed inside the cave were mystical objects, or deities themselves that granted the small group with wisdom or power to bless efforts and curse dissent. By asserting that the contents of the cave would cause immediate death for those not chosen to see them, they kept their power secure. Such tricks only last as long as people’s fear of an unknown power outweigh their dissatisfaction with their treatment and position as slaves, or their skepticism.
Now today, the ultimate wizard exists. All knowing, all powerful, the definition of goodness, so no order or action can be called into question on the basis of ethics. Invisible to all, except when they used to appear to people all the time before cameras and in a time of legends. Speaking with a voice you hear inside yourself. No one can call into question what you heard, because you’re the only one who heard it, and since you heard it from the all-knowing definition of goodness super wizard, others who believe must follow as if the words did come from such a being, not a mere man. It’s an old trick, but quite effective.
Apr 17, 2021
Apr 17, 2021 at 10:42 PM UTC
rehab
taught me how to think differently
it
didn't
teach me to think critically
only
poured on
new
dogma
better than the old dogma
but still dogma
is there such a thing as GOOD dogma?
Nov 23, 2015
Nov 23, 2015 at 9:48 PM UTC
Don't feel like a cog.
Don't feel like a bird either.
May 29, 2020
May 29, 2020 at 8:54 PM UTC
The pantheon of misplaced fears,
Whose walls were built on oppressed tears,
Has been well-guarded through the years,
Hiding from curious man’s ears.
There is no faith that threatens fears,
Afflicting the weakest with tears,
No faith like that withstands the years,
Silent in curious man’s ears.
Unchallenged faith the true faith fears,
To give compassion through the tears,
Where questions repeat through the years,
Faith needs curious eyes and ears.
The curious confront faith’s fears,
The curious fight through faith’s tears,
The curious give faithful years,
The curious give faith their ears.
Mar 2, 2019
Mar 2, 2019 at 11:08 PM UTC
One cannot blame the Devil for the action of sin,
(The future wants me buried, I know who’s a lier)
though it’s sad I can meet him before, in the physical form,
(now I keep two rottweilers next to me bed when I sleep)
smoke in the villas, crammed with exoctic plants,
(my comrades die & come back resurrected)
it’s not even at the crossroads, can’t touch my philosophers stone,
(exploit my secrets, is to exploit everyone else's)
only to relieve my embellishing heart dwellings, one life to lead,
(the only way for me to come back, is by machiavelli.
I’m taking back, what those ************* have stolen from me)
Nov 9, 2018
Nov 9, 2018 at 2:23 AM UTC
To each rebirth I command myself to undertake,
the closer I become to being a Higher Power, further from being a Muse,
those unable to do the same, it’s alright
to
name
&
shame.
The weak is here to justify the strong,
for most will read & dismiss it as arrogant ego, rather than a self-validating poet,
living in freedom.
Let us party hard, let us party all night, the love of sacrifice is
at the base
of the shrine, profit thrives on stupidity, shown most highlighted in trends
& forefront of subcultures, delusionary revolutions,
the world changes according to the change of the individual,
too bad ignorance isn’t painful,
for
I crave original thinking,
it is too bad I have wasted so much time,
on those who cannot even pull themselves to average,
you’re none to service.
Blessed are those who can destroy false hopes, illusions, trends, validation from others, dependance, angst & insecurity.
Freedom lays in thy hands.
(Heartache, don’t let it bring my heart down,
Jezebel bow your head in shame,
I am the light of illumination,
Mystical enhance my essence is, you phony,
you fake, I’m free, while your wrapped in children’s
attention. The sun rises in the east, at the Beast’s
discretion, than sets in the west, Babylon won’t
test. I’m free again, ruff & ready, you don’t know
what you're living for. Reaching replaceable average
is your best hope. Everything at your feet, still you’re
bitter, bored & sober, so you got nothing to do.
Forgetting suicide is painless)
Oct 16, 2018
Oct 16, 2018 at 1:27 AM UTC
Romance is distraction -
Romance is elaborating saga,
Romance is invention,
and not at all Love's dogma.
Love is discovery -
Love is devotion,
Love is creativity,
It evolved as we evolved,
Love is center, in all kinds
in the pure and the complex,
Love expressed in all the fines
the beauty in finding is yet -
Losing oneself in the find
or finding oneself in a loss,
unset from stone your searching mind
come morning, midnight, sun rise or set -
Love will find you as much as
Love willingly let's you beget.
Oct 6, 2018
Oct 6, 2018 at 12:25 AM UTC
I heard of a shamaness
who cures dogma
lays off documents
on the coast
of her ******
swings her liberty torch!
and puts on a red cloth.
Her ******* like
speechless
fragile animals
Eyes like poison wells
across the
grand brows
and her smell wrapped
in a burnt sleep
for
ten thousand years.
She cures dogma!
I smoke too much
I dream of an explosion of the silver forests and
I want to fall as beautifully as the ballads tell,
I have held my breath and now I'm entering the coast of her ******
- Samar Charulingah Godfrey
Oct 5, 2018
Oct 5, 2018 at 3:03 PM UTC
Why must I be hard-headed?
I’ll come through with guns, **** around and riot in your life. I spit up for-real, get up and feel, because it’s real. No emergency calls allowed. A lot of men are heated, but most stay bluffing. Society wants to duck tape and **** me, Demons telling me they hate me. Keeping you running, hollering on the roof, like the werewolf, my Muse gave me permission to let my will be done with no consequences. **** mystics, **** Death has been always on my mind, ever since sobriety had been master. For I’ve been through phases in order to find myself, finally stumbled upon the crossroads. Saw nameless faceless, who experienced mindless violence, take my breathe, give me death, give me rest, I’m going to live on when I die, when I do, I want to be a living legend outside folklore. Feeling no more pain. Masonic learning, Masonic magic, my third eye can peer into yourself, bleed from the mouth and see visions of hell inside. A heart of soldier, with the brains to teach a whole nation. My hands on your hips, no time to ******** **** your boyfriend I want love tonight. I dare those boys to shoot in open fire, even at point blank range, real Mystics don’t die, they just multiply. Woman, come creep with me, you know I can keep a secret, but we got to be blood in, blood out. Bury me, it’s what they all said once, my personal past, I was once like them, cause they wanted me to be just like them, but I changed into myself and parted from their lifestyle and no retaliation is a must. Even it sparks a holy war.
Shot at me five time, so I joined a gang, they never preach loyalty, just act on it. Put their knife through your six-pack. Admit it, life isn’t want you wanted. My pursuit of Masonic knowledge is greater than my shortcomings. Anxiety is my phantom ache. My flaws are my horrors, I’m in forever to sort them out and have my mind learn how to master them all. Because my soul is boundless of its own landscape. Poets, painters, writers and cinema glory, in exile and unnoticed. Against all odds, shall expose people's personal secret. Hush now. You’re living in fantasy. I take Demonic mythology serious, cause it’s proven fact. Tell yourself whatever you want. There is no justification of you breathing in the wind freely and walk on this earth surface with no purpose. Known for flashing and little substance, the weak’s meaning to life, is to justify the strong. Awkward and heavy. Touch one of mine, I will destroy everything you love. If the cops come and get me in the morning silence, my Masons will rush the station by the evening with guns drawn. War is cheaper than the court systems. I’ll be the real, breathing or dead. People who don't rhyme right, seen too many movies. Before, I feared death and saw only demons. Angels battle them within me. The treachery of a Demon and it’s tyrant intentions is nothing compared to the betrayal’s of Angels. I learnt how to treat a woman, but from what the tricks told me about cheating husbands and their behavior. Militant soldier, the sun may rise in east where the Beast is, but set in the west where the angels are, we are the light of the world, mystical enhanced, the world’s Bablylon can’t test, we’re free again. Blessed are the ones who develop themselves into God’s. Cause it serves reality. Brethren, Anastasia my muse, we’re free again. Speak of The Devil, he shall appear. I’ve met a higher power here in life, before death and provided everything for my desires to be at ease, yet personal freedom still expands, along with my mind and felt no more pain. To my soul to take, immortality now, I’ve surpassed earthly glory.
Sep 16, 2018
Sep 16, 2018 at 10:59 PM UTC
Rare people are exquisite, it’s too bad they’re ignored and
pushed to the side. Perhaps it’s a reality they present or they’re
natural ability to alter one’s life for holiness of mysticism,
leaving meaning and dreams to be lived in reality. From strong
winds, the flowers pulled up and turned into butterflies. It all
sounds sweeter than honey. For that, they can all provide the
opposite. The capacity to live. They hold the capacity to do evil.
Perhaps they’re made to be alone, in either isolation or in crowds,
though it’s sinful to ignore them.
Sep 11, 2018
Sep 11, 2018 at 8:03 PM UTC
Gathering twilight as colors over the horizon turned into a radiant-alluring showcase, tempting a my entire being to stand still and gaze, opening eyelids as their pupils move side to side, to understand creation in one single moment and the meaning was not meant to be shown to anyone. A jolt of illumination changing the silhouette of moods and a personal awakening sparkled inside. Time slowed. Sounds amplified. As earth veiled itself in more than aesthetic beauty rather than holding a face of horror and shame. Until a figure move faintly from the horizon and I took stepped forward. The europhia gasped and I wanted to jump to Heaven. Meaning beated in my third eye and it’s something that I had searched for my entire life, it’s a different meaning. The figure flew and stood across from me from an arms length. And started to sing in romantic tenderness, a kind of rapture a romantic had personal yearned for. But the beauty should never had been meet because of sense of aiming for had lost its value and nothing could ever compare here on earth. She sung about love, philosophy, poetry and lovers. Ending the song calling every person foolish and lived an unbearable life in dim secret darkness. Earthly satisfaction left my inner life. She stopped singing and my eyes rendered back to some or normality and instantly saw of periods of humanity, including the resonance and the romanticism, it lost of it’s points and held a burning desire to burn all history books. I felt only her existence and held it close to my privately owned heart. To describe her, including her flesh that is true poetry is outside of any language is pointless to start. All I know it’s only a starting point of the perfect revolution that humanity had been looking for in experience on a global front since the start time and meet the centerpoint of it all. For now I cannot fall in love with anyone here on earth, for now it’s only for that other side, for everyone here is dull and local, in need of rebirth.
(please find me on YouTube: ‘Knowledge Variable’)
https://www.amazon.com.au/Killing-Philosophy-Reflection-Darcy-Prince-ebook/dp/B07F9QVCW4/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1532482922&sr=8-1&keywords=darcy+prince
Aug 1, 2018
Aug 1, 2018 at 8:07 PM UTC
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
Jul 25, 2018
Jul 25, 2018 at 8:17 PM UTC
Freedom heated inside, burning in the crying teardrops, cult like chants drawing me in, struggling to master myself, perhaps it’s because of this world.
Limitations not on account of dogma and its religion, society or peers. I’m happy to converse with the devil, and sell my soul.
I can keep secrets, lover, we’ve got to be blood in and blood out. Freedom exists elsewhere and finally I’ve transcendent.
(knowledge variable)
Jul 8, 2018
Jul 8, 2018 at 8:49 PM UTC
Eager rushing sensations, waiting to escape, finding love and never finding the right words to say. Varied and wondering dreams, restless in all it’s waking threads of time. Rose gardens that house all kinds, like sunflowers for Van Gogh, humming amongst them. The mood helps providing a sense of freedom, though most never follow through. Maybe it’s only peace that I’ve always wanted. Something that isn’t found under a chestnut tree. Poetry a way beyond conversing with oneself, a self portrait for one’s eternal life, opened for viewing, it's something more than wanting street fame. Flashes of knowledge. As pearls. Self-doubt has become normal, something lingering around, it’s tiring in my engagement with it. Clouded mists, dripping over my essence, for I’m guilty for being anxious. Though there’s a-lot of men who stay heated, most of them stay bluffing underneath, hollering at the moon on the roof, passing any yearning for actual love. Because it’s something made out of lust. Now poetry spoils me, maybe it’s too much of a good thing, I’m alone in the world and it’s something I never wanted. For me, it always seems that I end up like this, a darkened world and I’m centered in it. For love, it was all bone and ashes, with poets skills, turned them into something so potent, forming beauty so we all forget about life’s natural wonders. A nightmare for the moment. Thoughts that are vivid, I’m not lost, I’m on a path that’s constructed for me. The only predestined item, in my own existence. Not reluctant. Even when you’re heading towards your fate, it’s still no obligated to provide you all that you ever craved, including the lips of a lover. It’s a sudden and unexpected shock. Sometimes laying a scent of bitterness inside. Yes, it can provide tears. Maybe I’m just impatient. Though in poetry, I take glimpse, into another’s world, another’s experience. I just don’t want to know about love. The experience of it, that's in experience love, far-more illuminating than any poem that anyone can read. It’s a certain grace, a different type of contentment, being in love, maybe a final place for personal progress to stop, rest and let go. Feeling safe in another’s arms. For if the same love is given back. Controlling the movement of the sun with each poem. Salmon sky, starlight, fireflies, providing a sense of romantic aroma, scented poems, kissing, eyes glitters in their flickering. Hands holding, insecurity fades and each lover forgets about them, fear forgotten to the point of it never existed. Love, not belonging to romance art. Violin for symphonies. Some infinities are bigger than others. Changing fates, change paths, I’m a paradox. Whenever I’m glanced at. I’m under no obligation to be the person others are. Like how life is to me. Not out spite. Not to taunt. Just be.The issue of self-awareness, giving me the knowledge to be my own person. Harping in the waltz. Solemn in my own thoughts. Private. Wanting to burst. But I render to myself on my path, dealing with daily struggles. Maybe I’m private in order to keep myself for the one I’m meant to be for. This is all just a prelude to my own enlightenment. This is only a note to a track record. Fire. I look back on times of that self-awareness, what a large lump of weary years. The wanting to live, the desire and dreams, than not having the ability to do so. Till I started the to notice the beauty of life, without knowing the beauty inside, I looked inside and saw a supplication, and produced my own courage, hollowness in others I could always understand, people's wanting to understand, to have friends, to talk, to be noticed, to be helped. To what I didn’t see, original lives, people all just fitting into conformity. Friends and family will believe always in your potential, nauseating in person duality. Always. Without fail. It’s a different story once you want to act on it. Nothing there is spontaneously. Oh frown on that life where it's easier to bleed, than it is to smile. Maybe nothing in life is predestined. And the search to have my own fate come to furitation is all any illusion, a trick to find myself. To create something holy here on earth. And it’s shocking to see how many people want you grounded. Though what do you do, when love turns to hate?For all I know, my own heart isn’t meant to be enclosed. But if you can’t create yourself, if you won’t rebel, stand up for yourself. In order to avoid scars. Beauty won’t belong to you. Not the beauty of the flesh. The kind of beauty that comes from inside.The soul is stronger than the flesh, rendering it more valuable. I’ve noticed the war between Angels and Demons.I could be all wrong. It could just be something of a self-made myth. The smart philosopher will know, the peace is known internally and the externally will never match. There’s few things more pleasurable than *** and revenge. It’s returning to a place of hardship, during success. And no one notices how much doubt affects our own lives. To apply within, to save myself from all those fears and insecurities. For I had meet someone, changing, shifting the patterns inside, I first felt illuminated for the first time. I smiled, encouraged me to stop reading, reading the lives of others, begin to live for myself. He held me hand, caused me to smile, asked me to talk, sat and listened, took an interest, asked for nothing more, than my time and presence, for what we did during that, that was up to me. Putting in time, was the only work required. Projecting ourselves beyond the mundane parts, going forth, passing poetry itself. It was like discovering Mozart’s music for the first time in humanity. We replaced the mocking chants of time’s minutes, moments or angst future to be now, with passion, love, heated exchanges of wanting to dive into one in another. And each lover can remember the first, the last and the only. It’s a brief life. To have it full of something else, like holiness. It’s another thing. Trust me, to be enticed, to be tempted, to be curious. If it’s for true love. Let it happen. It sparked the belief for me, that real love does not live in poetry, paintings, in novels or in some cosmic planet or parallel life. Our soulmates belong in our hands, to have them feel safe to be themselves. It’s funny, I had always wanted a man to come in, storming into my life, to save me. God cannot be everywhere. The most dangerous thinkers are the ones who act on love. For God made lovers, not to be everywhere, for I ended up saving my lover. Poetry only nature's the faith of love, because poems are food for love. But who has not truth in their heart, will not see the beauty of the other. To how I had lost him. It’s on account of the earthly problems. The ego is the ugliest part the human race. As for ignorance. It’s too bad no one can feel pain from it. It was love, at first sight, and everything turned into beauty. It littered this land. Staurating the poets of thoughts of grandeur. Free to be wild. Locked in the heart to be tamed and own, for me, shivering in my frame, providing aesthetic to reality. Burning the sky, dnce all crazy, eyes on fire, we got them in a trance and impending doom of death, drips and melts away. Pulling in dramatic tension towards us, melodramatic and meticulous in our love for one another, ourselves dripped and personally forgotten in the presence of the other. We had broken the fuse of life, it’s living spark, to any predestined wants of it, created our own, anywhere we went, turned to romantic pilgrimage, and finally for the first time, any flaws of life, any poverty, burden or burning want, left, as we shrugged our shoulders, smiling at one another. We have and are, fully absent of any muse that we had once, prior to meeting thee and used for earthly wants and values. Like Milton said, do not think about morals, for they the ability to think about themselves. And our souls, larger than Rome, stronger than any empire. This isn’t a result of dreams, we had lived in reality and said no-more. Because it didn’t watch the throne. What do you do when the willingness to live, turns into something of no more? We just replaced the reality of life and created our own. For the mind is in a place of its own, to what comes into fruition, tangible and touchable. I’ll wonder deeper. Awake and rise. For this isn’t to copy. Something to leave behind. Perhaps this adds charm, shade to the stillness parts of life, colour to the darkness. A feeling of perfection to anything that may of so seemingly born lifeless. And ever since I’ve been left alone, I’ve come to grips in solitude. Out of truth, until this day, I have no idea how to articulate true love, I tell myself, something so beautiful can’t be express in poetry. And if it isn’t true love. I don’t want to know. It’s allowing to continue to believe in love, remaining here under its spell and that we all have a soulmate here, waiting to be discovered. My heart will ache until I find thee. Yes, I’ve heard it’s dangerous to romanticize one’s own past, have it brew to the surface of old sensations, from the secret depths of my own soul, alluring our attention to it and placing a veil to the future, maybe why we romanticize the past, is a simple reminder that life isn’t so bad. Perhaps I’m just a foolish romantic, an expression-mirage of hope. As the thoughts of love, keep coming, I’ll continue to walk, if it’s in exile, alone, parting from everything that I had become accustomed to, let it be. But at least I don’t refuse the potential of life’s fruits and to what I can bear with my own hands. When it’s in love, anyone can farewell to hope and fear, for the very last time. In heartbreak moments, its singing of torment and personal chaos, collapsing of my private world. To which I deemed valuable on any night meant for you and I to share love. **** and full of fashion. Of how much pain the heart can stand, imagine the experience of tightening strings to crack like glass to the point of no-return. Miserable in the infinity. Just to devour anything worthy of oneself. Huddling together with the darkness and whisper between ourselves. Than by force, burden humanity. And a good poem is the blood for any romantic, but it’s forgotten when love is currently being enjoyed. To the unbearable doubt, I’ll not fall victim to, poetic, I’m fraile inside, like we all are. They’ll be no heros if our inner-worlds weren’t such soft touches of complete tenderness. Mingling glories. Kiss me now. I’ll smile for you than. What is it mean that someone is clingy? Perhaps there is nothing for them. Maybe they had just saw for what I’m worth and saw nothing but beauty. For that, there is nothing else for them, besides to infuse romance. Just wanting to leave me breathless. Tenor for rose beds, shepherd to anything the world made of beautiful, touch it, it will multiple. The breath of life. Hollering at moon on the roof. For the reminds me, of what he thought of me, when he first saw me. But I always answer in response, ‘what about now’. Lowering his head, resting on his arm, hiding his smiling. To which reminds me, it’s always getting better. Like the revolving poems. In spontaneous overflow of something we can’t control. What is the paramount goal between lovers? To self discover? To know another? Be poetic in one’s actions? Oh musing poetry, how can we know how to love thee? How to live? How to write poetry for thee? Now I see the value of peering into the arts made from any romantic period. But what does it mean to pass those poems by? Losing all value of life. It's just passing moments, threading together, stuck to the forefront of my mind, I’m unable to forget. So I lose sense of time and daily obligation. Smoking magic. Spellbound. I’m fully alive and aware now. Constant. There is no change. I’m unable to forget. Though let me breathe in that breathe, an intoxicating perfume. Extravagance. Blunt in twilight. Pierce through obscurity. Temptation to praises. Holding lovers hand under sunlight and moonlight. Pitchy. Eyes convicted of seeing the endgame of beauty, never to look away. Containing fairy tales in dreams, the ability to stain the earth with it. Got to be carefully not to let the evil of this life and earth trap thy. And all I wanted to say to my lover, before I told him, that his voice is my favourite sound, is to say simple words like I love you. So when you see me, our dreams will flicker like the stars of the night, never to fade and when the sun rises, the golden dawn between us, will expand the sun’s glory. In clarity of mixed feelings, we had lived dormant and a calm temperament, contempt to achieve earthly success, to which our heart could never be satisfy with. Drowning in oceans of filling hearts by love, produced by one another. When you’re in love, the world is yours and it spins around. But when one’s heartbreaks, nothing but numbness and you’re alone. Late night, bright lights, lust and lies, everyone with their hands out, no one is giving, but I cannot blame people for trying to get what they can. Loving seeing your lovers smile. Anything goes under this shared sky, who knows what you’ll find. I’m just distilled in poetry. Needing one single kiss and I’ll open my arms, present myself so proudly. As for the naturally wonder, they’ll blink, display itself for everyone, jealous as we walk away. But when your heat breaks, everything is gone and nothing ever seems to matter, plucked into forever. And all wanted, nothing within poetry, is to love. Can one ever get blamed for that? It’s as natural as being born and to die. To my doubt, that no matter how I live, do not engage with me, on how I’m supposed to be. Cello symphonies, tenors. Can I survive a misspirit? Oh for what I’m I really waiting for? For when you open your heart, look how they try to play me, write a couple a poems, now they wave at me. I’ve had my heartbroken, to lovers smiles. From a romantic in desituition, to someone's love. Experience in musings. And to every step I take. Just want to tread over romance and transition into poetry. Smile for me now. From a trembling throb, shaking hands, strengthening of heart, it’s enough for me to know that I exist, not to be contained in any single moment. Do we really know life? I just want love. For poetry, I’m happy to hand out freely. To be beautiful, it’s when one glares at you, to be valued, is for when one knows you. For that, lover? Maybe? Otherwise, it’s not the purpose of existence to be either beatiful or valued for the outside. To which, I can easily do either. A free woman in this unfree world, would be a woman dreams never dared to speak to. A daughter of muses. Dreaming about the romance world. My mind goes boom! For me in the world of romance. To doubt should be a sin. Not to be brave enough to follow through, a sin. Refusing faith that we’re all meant to be for another as a soulmate. A unique miracle for another’s life. For a romantic, a day without love is like no salt on the road for the saint. Ever since adolescence, calling out for my soulmate, until he returns, it’s all eyes on me. I desire, so therefore, I exist in something of an aura, taking in this world’s pressure, without a sound, I slide, I’m unbreakable. It’s not that I can’t make it on my own. I’ve tasted love and earth or this life, cannot provide and other contentment, melting over in illumination. It’s incarnate and inherent. I’ve measured my own worth and dream of someone better. And if they’re less, better go to work to match my eyes. Stars on our door, stars in our eyes, stars exploding in the bits of our brains were the common sense should have been, where anticipation of love making sessions isn’t our greatest pleasures. Unstained by fulfillment for what we can do for each other. When I was younger, my hunger was to let loose in exile, catch me if you can, I giggle at those more vulnerable and impression years. Demand in the present, higher status in the future. Narration of poetry in soft whispers. So fairy tales, folk tales, stories from the oral tradition, are all of them the most vital connection we have with the imaginations of the ordinary men and women whose labor created our world. As for me. I created a love no other human can ever attain, so I’ve replaced every muse that had ever existed. No longer to question my own existence. The lover yet not conceptualize in my hands, is just another unexplored land of flesh and character. Waking each day, a little more, living, movements under the eyes, flicker of light. I gasp and breathe in. Somnolent gestures, it’s a little more urgent and intense, somethings different. More raw and upfront. I’ve loathed and now no more. Piano keys pressed. Heat rises, rains felt colder. Die another day. I huffed and puffed. I came to grips for the life I had live. Parted from it. Moving fingers to wave goodbye. I smiled. For love is funny. It’s comes out of nowhere, at the silliest times, from the most random people, like a fluke. Flutes and melody, along piano keys. Love, hitting me hard, never to leave. Asking in cliches, ‘where have you been my whole life?’ Finally, without effort, a man to understand, even from the smallest glimpses of glance, a single touch, a soft spoken word. Loving each other, not knowing how, but we do. In balance, obliges his self-care, never to allow me to struggle in my own wants of life. Understanding in instant flutters of fury and still yearning for more. And each stroke of his tongue ripped off skin after successive skin, all the skins of a life in the world, and left behind a nascent patina of shining hairs. My earrings turned back to water and trickled down my shoulders; I shrugged the drops off my beautiful fur. I see him as a series of marvellous shapes formed at random in the kaleidoscope of desire. Filling out my meaning in his living action. To each look, it’s like the first time, in the last few moments, glancing at me, like it his final outlook on life. Our love, devoted to life, but we couldn’t accept life and it’s demands, so, we devoted ourselves, to one another, and it wasn't enough, so, we committed ourselves to holy love and rose above anything that had once been considered as limitations. Dripped off the sides, in alluring colours to the cosmos, left, in supernova fashions and drifted into mythological fame. As we should. Love hits hard, it hits fast and in unexpected times from the most unexpected people. Most of all, it was horrifying at first, made only for the brave, for those who have never tasted love. It’s like, seeing eternity, mastering it and got all the time in forever to stand and glare out to the immense sky. Careful in one’s manner, so no one will notice, eyes opened wide, never to shut, like if I have found creation more than I could explain. The sting of a poem. Why so often my thoughts flustered. Once went everywhere, unrecognised. Time slows. Instead of a mocking face. I regretted nothing in past loves. I am happy that I had an effort. Are the ones too concerned with these earthly concerns. I doubt would ever be themselves, let alone be in love. Don’t ****** me. Now it’s time to be a ghost. For the devil greatest magic, to have the faith that he doesn’t exist. Filtered through my demonic mouth, this is the end and I know how cultures die. This beautiful sigh. A firefly kingdom. Will it be like this, when I cross over to another place? Grief at lost love, when I’m capable of loving now. I’m the romantic, leaning against poetry, filled with love, whisper it’s tone with meaning. Wet summer in low times. Lover without love. Paralysed at my core. Those who glimpsed inside, know of senseless violence. Eyes that not dare no more to meet mine. Pendlum swinging, more selmn than the sfiting emotions. Do not come close to me. Deliberate gestures in the dark. Behaving like the gloom of failure. I know how the world ends. Artists, raise images as homage to death. Is it like this, on the other side, trembling with sobs. No prays to be heard. Valley of dead bodies, steaming ash, sizzling skin to bones. They never talk. Lifeless. Spasm in Zion. rapture over earth, screams from the religious, who pledged their lives to their dogma, slapped in the face. Shadows. Life is short. Between the desire and the action, I’m there, existing. I’m the essence of your desires. I’m breeding new kingdoms. Whimper in public, no-one will hear. For Zion has forgotten you. For I know how the world ends.
(knowledge variable)
May 25, 2018
May 25, 2018 at 4:33 AM UTC
To the point in heartbreak, suffering
and seemingly endless, I guess there
is always a point, we all reach. Where
we all get, a private demon, that rides
us, torments us, well, until the end
that is. Like that split second, when
we hear the final melodies played
by Du Pre. And that demon is particular,
knowing all our gentle spots in our
souls, where our lover once touched
touched, kissed and breathed upon.
For a small moment in the spectrum
of time, we forgot about our private
pains, and let go, becoming slightly
more fuller of our real selves. ‘But that
is not meant to be’, said the Bluebird
chirping on the branch, as the serpent
directed us out of Eden.
(knowledge variable)
May 21, 2018
May 21, 2018 at 8:15 PM UTC
What limits individuality, annihilates freedom.
Sep 26, 2017
Sep 26, 2017 at 4:19 AM UTC
This is my credo
this is my dogma
this is my statement of belief
you can call this whatever you like
because the title is unimportant
this is my uncompromising doctrine
of which I believe in
to the utmost degree.
Everyone is important
Despite what they may think of themselves
Every single person has a life that matters
No matter how they see their life
I will be the person who is left
When everyone else has left
And you believe yourself to be alone
I will be the one who believes in you
When even you do not believe in yourself
I will be the one to remind you of your beauty
When you forget the beauty you possess
I will be the one who will listen for eternity
When you feel like you are worthless
I will see value and worth within you
Even when you believe yourself to be worth nothing
I will be the one to worry over you
While you worry over everyone else
Come hell or high water
Regardless of the burden it shall place upon my shoulders
I will undertake the task
Of lessening the pain and suffering of others
For I can bear much suffering
And my heart is warmed by the sight
Of suffering and pain being lifted from someone’s shoulders
I will do all that is within my power
Put forth all the effort I can
With mind, body and soul
I step forth into this world
To deny suffering a place here
And to lessen the pain
Felt by any and all
So bring me all the worst
Of your broken
Of your bruised
Of your supposedly insane
Dreams feelings and memories
Bare your soul to me
And I shall reply in kind
Welcoming you in to the depth of my being
And encompassing you within the warmth that I possess
I know that I may not save all
But that will NOT STOP me from trying
To save everyone
Because if I can save even one person
Then any sacrifice is worth the chance
Mar 30, 2017
Mar 30, 2017 at 9:55 PM UTC