#presentation
#
There are thrones that are not thrones;
but instead,
are ones built on the counterfeiting of substance,
where hands grasp at weightless scepters,
mistaking empty air for authority.
There are crowns that are not crowns,
forged not in fire, but in absence;
polished not in wisdom, but in hunger;
worn by those who mistake imitation for inheritance.
This is the kingdom of voided substance—
a palace where the Wellspring does not flow,
where no roots drink deeply,
where no walls hum with the resonance of truth.
And yet, they gather.
They gather in circles of shadow--
parched tongues speaking of rivers they have never touched,
fingertips tracing the echoes of power
but never the power itself.
They weave words like veils over their thirst,
drawing others into the orbit of their illusion,
stealing what little water remains
in the ones who have not yet fully entered the Source.
They feed—not from the Well,
but from the moisture of the lost,
sustained by the remnants of those
who still carry the trace of what is real.
And they call it life.
And they call it wisdom.
And they call it love.
But the crown they wear is hollow.
The weight is an illusion.
The throne beneath them—an image, projected;
a structure that exists only so long
as no one leans too hard upon it.
They fear those who see.
They mock those who refuse to kneel.
They rage against the ones
who have touched the living water
and now speak of its taste..
of its cooling replenishment.
Because they know.
Somewhere, beneath the gilded artifice,
beneath the hollow performance,
beneath the empty sound of their own voices,
they know.
They were never given entry.
In fear, they ran from the cost of true substance.
They hold no access, only illusion.
And so, they take,
and take,
and take—
Until the weight of their own emptiness
crushes them beneath the throne
they have built from rust.
But rust does not hold..
it deteriorates.
And when the kingdom crumbles,
when the crown slips from their grasp,
when the illusion cracks beneath the weight
of what is,
what will remain of them then?
For the hollow cannot stand
against the gravity of the Real.
#
Mar 13, 2025
Mar 13, 2025 at 9:35 PM UTC
oh Y my chest now like a pallette
subdivided by a sighted brunette
🎨
Dot in The Heart Missing A Piece
it felt like what just happen babe
😥
in our both ego over emo
Vs The Gifts of Our Sacrifice.
for the sake of give and take.
Once therein that Eskimo
surpass A changed Atmosphere...
grasping each gasping interfere...
Forget the pride of letter
" i On Your win "
embrace the Glad header
" if no u in team "
there is no glory in living
.... so what's forever for .
and we , US... must add song
just to space some more
Love ,, comfort,, Faith and Glamour.
lesson of hype
in a coffee phase
that grounds like
for a cup in place
unlike to up above
in the poem's title
that meant to Behave
and to simply acquire
....
a copy paste with brave
as if tender Loving care
of a Happier married couple
never to mend those double
trademark of their Entendre
it is the queen whom always been the best defender of her King !
Against all odds even more than willing to sacrifice her significant just to accomplish the art of dying in order to give a triumphs in their entire palace called empire !
a true loyal lady warrior
without a coughy face
of a Royal Blood no matter what openings might she encounter until the middle game comes to a different blinder offered by her Allies captured by their die hard opposition
Your's Truly ,
King's Gambit 👑
here🙇♂️
Your Highness🤴
**Dedicated to the 25th
day Of February 2025**
AniberSaya ng anibersaryo.
#AdvanceMonthSarry
Amvil Santiago 💞
💕 Boyet Santiago
Have many more
T L C senyo Mare
namin at Repa Kuh
#Segway malapit sa Subway >>><<<
apat lamang sa umpisa ang Obispo sa larong Chess ...
tigalawa ang bawat panig
Hindi tulad sa 1986 EDSA PP
ay Hindi itim at puti
ang magkatunggali
kundi Haring Pula
kontra sa Reyna Dilaw
ang Sa upuan ng markadong
Bughaw ang magkaagaw !
At nang lumaon nang madali
sino ang tinuro sa bandang huli
ng ating sari-sariling hinTuTuro
Tila mga piyesa ng chess game
sundalo at kapwa matataas na
Ranggo..
Napaglaruan lamang ng mga oligarko..
At ang Liwasang EDSA ang naging lunsaran na tila isang ChessBoard.
PWEDE NANG IKAHON ANG MGA TAUHAN
BILANGIN KUNG MAY KULANG,
MAY BANGIN KAPAG MAY LALIM ANG MUWANG
LILIKHA ITO NG USOK,
MARAHAS MAN O MATAMLAY...
MAGING LIHIM MAN
SA LILIM NG SAKIM
NA NAGKIMKIM
NG SILIM SA DILIM
AY BANAAG
ANG LIWANAG
NG ALIWALAS SA
SA BAWAT AGWAT NG
PABALAT AT PAHINA
SA AKLAT AY ALAMAT
ANG PAMAGAT
" larawan ng isang ubo "
mula sa mala-metro
sa pagrerehistro ,
unawa ang ginhawa .
Luluwag ang pagsikip .
simangot na labi ay ngingiti !
(a coughy face)
author's Cut
Published ₱¥€
February 06,
2025 © solEmn oaSis
1200H Lunch
Time Done
Philippines
Glad we're
💕here💞
Feb 5, 2025
Feb 5, 2025 at 11:52 PM UTC
Today, Catholics celebrate the Presentation of Mary (by her parents to the church). In the days of old, the church was the primary medium of education and, in some cases, parents would dedicate their first born to the church as a sort of tithe giving back to God in gratitude for the first fruits of their blessings.
When we are young our parents took us and presented us to the church, and we are placed in the care of wise men and women to be taught and brought up in the life and the way and the truth. This is in hopes that we would grow in wisdom and age and favor before both God and man. When we are a little older, we can choose to present ourselves before the Lord and confess by our lips and our actions that we believe and serve. We take ownership of our faith. It is not simply our parents' faith anymore.
The presentation is an offering, a sacrifice, a return in gratitude of blessings. Let us, then, come daily before the Lord Our God and present ourselves to Him, to thank Him, to offer Him all our joys and sorrows, blessings, temptations, work and play. Let us begin by presenting Him with our day.
What would happen if WE would rededicate our hearts, our days, and our lives to Christ our Lord? Doing it can't make things any worse than they are by not doing it. So why not give it a shot?
Feb 4, 2025
Feb 4, 2025 at 10:03 PM UTC
I've got this dream
Where I'm prepping for a presentation
And I'm ready
I am so prepared
I wrote out note cards but I don't need them
I've printed out my visual aides days in advance
But when I go to pin them to the wall
They shrink
I pull the corners out like kneading dough
But they recoil
Over and over
I try to explain myself to the faceless critic
But they've already marked a large "X" on their secretive clip board
My poster shrinks to nothing and I wish I could
I wake in a cold sweat
Sep 7, 2020
Sep 7, 2020 at 11:29 PM UTC
Mellow,/
good riddance,/
no lyrical sides/
their call, heaven/
fall,/
with cigarette word-
lapping,/
boat too close to the wall/
circumcising by verbals done/
up dying,/
Child us a sandbox of sense/
stretching holding/
out on a ghostly hand/
We are the walls/
place Poetry finds acute vivid lining/
verses, our eyes meshing/
hole unclenching/
Killing lectures about it, how dictionarising/
And Le Clézio’s wing alive/
abide/
Taking flight/
~
Sep 1, 2020
Sep 1, 2020 at 7:11 AM UTC
#
And from the abyss
of an un-owned, nothingness
rises up the majestic image--
supremely crafted, from
well-smithed words;
this something..
formed out of nothing--
this counterfeit substance
this ancient, hide
this cowardly, self-formed answer
to the Universe's primal core question
this childish refusal to grow up..
to own up,
and face the music
This fooling of the whole world..
this glory of the moment..
and then, one final pirouette,
before your unavoidable death-scream
at that final moment of truth..
Ah truth, baby.. what a concept.
#
Jun 14, 2020
Jun 14, 2020 at 6:37 PM UTC
#
*It is through the pathological:
The presented image of the journey
as being that of the road, less traveled--
a foundation of sand, presented
as being that of bedrock..
It is the ancient shortcut's need
to prop up it's own deception
that is of that which harbors the greatest judgement
of all that is upright
and it is upon these agenda-ed, subjective pallettes
that the pastels are mixed and arranged,
as the landscape of the world's reality
becomes, painted.*
#
Jan 23, 2020
Jan 23, 2020 at 11:23 PM UTC
A blinding flash.
I cover my ears as my teeth gnash.
A wave of destruction, moving towards me.
There’s nothing to do; I get washed away in the sea.
My eyes open.
My thoughts, unspoken.
I dress
to cleanse my distress.
The big day is here.
My turn is near.
People, standing in front of the class.
Giving presentations; I won’t last.
My leg starts bobbing up and down at a rapid pace.
I can’t do this. I’ll be a disgrace.
My name is called, my fate inescapable.
I march to the front of the room, my ability incapable.
Breathe in. Breathe out.
I have to rid myself of this doubt.
I speak, my voice quiet, almost inaudible.
Great, this presentation is already horrible.
But time passes, and my voice is raised.
People’s eyes widen, they’re clearly amazed.
My voice carries weight, setting a tone.
Darkness clouds the room; this place is my own.
I’m done running. My feelings overflow.
And without warning, I explode.
Everyone is silent. My fate left unclear.
But, amid the silence, comes a single cheer.
Apr 26, 2018
Apr 26, 2018 at 8:32 PM UTC
I failed yesterday.
But that doesn’t matter, ‘cause I fail everyday.
When I ***** up a presentation.
It brings about a new sensation.
One of hatred and self-doubt.
My brain’s suffering a drought.
A lack of motivation.
Little information. Too many interpretations.
How can I function when I can’t think straight?
Too many variables. The consequences too great.
That’s why I do nothing.
Instead of presenting, I’m running.
Far, far away from everyone.
To a place where there’s no one. Anyone.
But me and my mind.
I’ve let people down.
My family, my friends. Their faces have frowns.
I’m such a screw-up. I want to disappear.
I’m just tired of all these stupid fears.
I turn around. Try to go back. But I hit a wall.
Instead of improving, I fall.
Back into old habits.
It’s like playing a game. Playing gambits.
I stand up there. On stage.
My heart is pounding. An internal rage.
Thoughts are swirling inside my head.
All I want now is to go to bed.
No, no! I won’t accept defeat.
I’ve come too far just to fall and taste concrete.
So, even if it’s terrible, even if nobody hears me.
I’m going to try, and that’s what it’s gonna be.
‘Cause I think in the end, trying something will be my savior.
Instead of simply relapsing into failure.
Mar 7, 2018
Mar 7, 2018 at 4:39 PM UTC
I have been invisible before.
My thoughts and justifications were transparent.
All anyone could see were my actions;
the way I failed and stumbled,
and ran head first into doors that lead me down path after path of distraction.
At least they seemed like distractions,
oh, but they become my destruction.
I spent my time quietly imploding,
only to change my mind last minute,
and suddenly explode.
I changed my mind,
but my body stayed stock still.
I stood in front of the judges
and while my tongue was granite,
the urge to run from the podium had never been greater.
I wished to be invisible.
I wished to go to a dark corner of the room and finish my implosion.
Out of sight,
where I could hide and self destruct without a sound.
And then if,
or when,
I picked up the shrapnel,
I could re-join everyone on stage at graduation.
I could hold my head high
and with a smile,
pretend no one saw me crumble.
Jan 17, 2018
Jan 17, 2018 at 7:26 AM UTC
‘Smile is infectious’
Said the first slide.
By the twenty-fourth, realized
Yawn is infectious too.
Nov 12, 2017
Nov 12, 2017 at 7:09 AM UTC
The rising anxiety
Flares my insecurity.
I clear my throat,
The words just
won't come out right.
And I stutter and avoid
Staring at my audience
And I bit my lip,
Remembering hours
Of memorizing my topic
Only to forget it
Right on the spot.
I gather my courage and do my best
I finish my presentation
And they clap politely
And the relief is my refuge as I sit
With something of pride in my eyes.
Sep 5, 2017
Sep 5, 2017 at 12:19 AM UTC