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#tribulations
Unfortunately, it is an awkward tradition That most of us have experienced the passion Of first love, first wink, first hug and first kiss Which had disturbed our internal peace. I still remember the first kiss, the first touch And the first hug after so many years on the couch Ouch! It hurts to go back to so many years Where mistakes had turned into serious errors. However bad love does not exist on this planet Experience is about trials and tribulations. I bet Your bottom dollar that nobody is of course exempt. These days, I rather think about heading forward Of loving and living innocently like a brilliant nerd In lieu of being charged haphazardly in contempt. Copyright © February 2026 Hébert Logerie, All rights reserved. Hébert Logerie is the author of several poetry collections.
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Feb 11
Feb 11, 2026 at 10:16 PM UTC
Thinking And Speaking About First Love
I Am a Blessing, and you are too, The Lord has done so many great things for you, yes, it's true!!! You are a Blessing, Less catastrophe, and less stressing He allowed you to see a brand new day, and started you on your merry way!!! I Am a Blessing, I Am a Testimony, I have been though a lot, Oh, can't you just see!!! I Am a Blessing, and You should feel the same, You got a lot to be thankful for, I claim this in Jesus name!!! You are a Blessing, I just wanted you to know, Keep your trust in Him, and From this, you will grow!!!! B.R. Date: 5/16/2025
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May 16, 2025
May 16, 2025 at 8:47 PM UTC
I Am a Blessing
Hey let's go for a stroll, and Rock n' Roll, Step one, two, and three, now, here we go. Before you judge me, First, hear me out You don't know where I have been, or what I'm all about. you need to know that, I have been through a lot, I have gone through some stuff, stomach twisted in knots, These roads have been rocky, I have had enough, I have walked many miles, Trials have been rough I have come a long way I have walked a long while, One foot after the other, been walking for miles, It's been really hectic, got me singing the blues I'm trying to endure, and push right through What more can I say, I done all I could do, OH YEAH, and by-the-way, NICE SHOES!!!! B.R. Date: 07/4/2023
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Oct 28, 2024
Oct 28, 2024 at 12:30 PM UTC
🚶♂️🚶♀️Just Walk a Mile in my Shoes 🚶♀️🚶♂️
gutted like a fish my innards strewn about i watch everyone step over them in hopes they won't be seen i salvage what's left of me unnoticed and unrecognizable i paint a smile with two dollar lipstick to mask the suffering who could i ask for help anyway? the world and the god know of my despair but the lights keep going out during the storm blindly leading i don't trust myself and i won't trust you either a vicious cycle of misfortune can change even the strongest of hearts to stone
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Sep 5, 2024
Sep 5, 2024 at 9:31 PM UTC
tribulation
Oh dear Lord, please don’t allow anything to obstruct our devotion or love to You but if something interferes help us to overcome it so as to Your love we can be true. In this world we are all beset at times by so many unwanted tribulations and woes that it seems as if they serve to lead us away from instead of towards You dispose. ________________________
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Mar 19, 2022
Mar 19, 2022 at 7:32 AM UTC
Quatrain #414 - Oh Dear Lord ......
The trials and tribulations you go through Are testament to who you are And the strength in you, For you will never be tested beyond your means, So hold fast to your values, To your dreams and desires, And show them who’s wrong And who’s right.
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Apr 14, 2021
Apr 14, 2021 at 9:24 PM UTC
Hold Fast
We never have the essential answers, to the questions in our daily lives. God takes the lead and remains in control. God touches our hearts beyond wishes untold. I know you’re hurting so very much; I want to help but I don’t know how. This storm of yours is barreling toward you; sweeping you up and spinning you within. You hide behind your strength for others; but you my friend need someone too! I can’t imagine, in my wildest dream the intensity of your pain; the complexity of your damaged will! To lose so many whom you love so dearly, has got to be robbing your emotion. When your insides feel like a drowning sorrow, When your days and nights regret tomorrow, When your eyes tear up behind their sockets, (because you refuse to let your feelings show). When you just don’t want to be the “old” you, When you can’t see yourself making it through. When you just can’t seem to gain any control. When you feel like giving it all up for good, When your pain and hurt is misunderstood. Always remember what I am saying. Dearest friend in “my whole wide world”, Our Heavenly father is right by your side. We have our pain and rock hard endings. We have our trials and tribulations. We have our moments of dis-repair. We have our moments when we just don’t care. But you serve a God who is all around you. Holding you close in your raging storm. You may not see it; you may not feel it. But God is standing faithfully behind you; waiting for you to Trust him and fall.
0
Jan 29, 2021
Jan 29, 2021 at 10:59 PM UTC
For Angie
We never have the essential answers, to the questions in our daily lives. God takes the lead and remains in control. God touches our hearts beyond wishes untold. I know you’re hurting so very much; I want to help but I don’t know how. This storm of yours is barreling toward you; sweeping you up and spinning you within. You hide behind your strength for others; but you my friend need someone too! I can’t imagine, in my wildest dream the intensity of your pain; the complexity of your damaged will! To lose so many whom you love so dearly, has got to be robbing your emotion. When your insides feel like a drowning sorrow, When your days and nights regret tomorrow, When your eyes tear up behind their sockets, (because you refuse to let your feelings show). When you just don’t want to be the “old” you, When you can’t see yourself making it through. When you just can’t seem to gain any control. When you feel like giving it all up for good, When your pain and hurt is misunderstood. Always remember what I am saying. Dearest friend in “my whole wide world”, Our Heavenly father is right by your side. We have our pain and rock hard endings. We have our trials and tribulations. We have our moments of dis-repair. We have our moments when we just don’t care. But you serve a God who is all around you. Holding you close in your raging storm. You may not see it; you may not feel it. But God is standing faithfully behind you; waiting for you to Trust him and fall.
Continue reading...
32
Its winter, cold, stark and yet beautiful Hearts bounded to this existence Fingers interlocked Warming soul breath blows across the palms Sanguine legs warmed against heated stove      Human in thinking, doing and being The virtuous kettle starts to boil Truculent steam sinks quickly to the floor Tea leaf’s start to surf on the gathering tsunami Stale scones start to brown on the stove Honey eases the dry scones path to oblivion      Human to absorb, resist and learn A heavy coat and the door open Scarfed mouth and nose brace the sub-zero air Dogs paws, skiter across the frozen boards Winter boots crunch the snow emblazed path Outside loo engaged      Human to explore, try and teach Spaded snow bound potatoes lifted and sacked Encrusted river trounced and bucket filled Animals fed and watered Mucked and swilled Back aching and poulticed      Human to be tolerate, effect and apt Potted vegetable dances a tango with dried lentils Slices of dried sausage thrown in for good measure Stew partying all day long One bowl for the dog and one for its master Liquify the flour for a batch of scones      Human to dream, play and appreciate Gods hang out heavenly green curtains to dry Driving freezing winds blow for weeks Trees groan from the strain Animals cower in vain A frozen river provides no fish      Human to choose, empathise and endure Banks of glazed snow Moonlit evangelical trees Malls of Isolation, lonely, impenetrable but ajar Welcomed aestivation spreads its joy The curtain on spring time is drawn free of an icy grip      Human to protect diversity, past and future Bear trails getting closer Time for the dog to earn its keep The scent is taken The hunt commences The scope picks up the target The young bear is marking its new territory      Human to destroy, interfere and absolve Pull the trigger The sound echoes around Crows explode into the sky A small cloud of snow billows up The bear now heading East A few judicious air shots keep it heading away      Human to observe, savour and respect Ice starts to give way to the warming sun, air and water Time to check and prepare the boat Set the nets in the river Cherish natures delicate flowers Let the animals out to graze      Human in relaxing, changing and evolving Enjoy riverine skinny dips Untangle knotted hair Adrift in the shallow pool Newly skinned dragon-fly cruises Preened wagtail eyes up the feast      Human to feel, laugh and cry Cleansed of winter odours Calloused fingers ****** with beeswax *** boiled doused clothes Gaping holes where threads fail Skin soaked in warming rays      Human to theorise, invent and engineer Wading through heaving rivers Enjoying fresh food again Bountiful mushrooms Plentiful hunting, trapping and fishing New born in the sty      Human to aspire, educate and archive Turn over the vegetable patch Dig in the winter compost Embed tatties and vegetables Potato atomiser goes for spirited liquid Wood logging, stacking to cure      Human to navigate, articulate and embody Day tripping ventures Mail pick up and friends reunited Provision shopping and wares sold Dental extraction Hair curtailed      Human to socialise, protest and survive Time to be bitten by the flying blighters Darkness gives way to the light of all day Abundant berries and supplies of jam Visit downstream farms with homemade fruity scones Piglet bartering for shorn wool      Human to be mortal, resilient and dependable Dry fish and meat Start to restock the wood supplies Collect the honey bounties Contemplate the shortening days Drying pools and amorous clouds of pollen      Human to shape, fill and transform Rewiring damaged fencing Barn hinge annealed Bury another dog mauled victim Re-shingled roof gaps Collapse into bed every night      Human to lead, serve and follow Reddening foliage Stores a brimming Sacking of nuts Smoking fish and magic mushrooms Last visit to the doctor before the freeze      Human to make life worth living Watch the last of the departing birds Snuggle up with a moonshine viewing the rising moon over mountain peaks Card and spin the wool Pull out the knitting needles for the first jumper of the production year Hibernation and snows will seal the year      Love to be a human
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Dec 19, 2020
Dec 19, 2020 at 5:50 AM UTC
Human, North of the 60th Parallel (3 poems in one)
Its winter, cold, stark and yet beautiful Hearts bounded to this existence Fingers interlocked Warming soul breath blows across the palms Sanguine legs warmed against heated stove      Human in thinking, doing and being The virtuous kettle starts to boil Truculent steam sinks quickly to the floor Tea leaf’s start to surf on the gathering tsunami Stale scones start to brown on the stove Honey eases the dry scones path to oblivion      Human to absorb, resist and learn A heavy coat and the door open Scarfed mouth and nose brace the sub-zero air Dogs paws, skiter across the frozen boards Winter boots crunch the snow emblazed path Outside loo engaged      Human to explore, try and teach Spaded snow bound potatoes lifted and sacked Encrusted river trounced and bucket filled Animals fed and watered Mucked and swilled Back aching and poulticed      Human to be tolerate, effect and apt Potted vegetable dances a tango with dried lentils Slices of dried sausage thrown in for good measure Stew partying all day long One bowl for the dog and one for its master Liquify the flour for a batch of scones      Human to dream, play and appreciate Gods hang out heavenly green curtains to dry Driving freezing winds blow for weeks Trees groan from the strain Animals cower in vain A frozen river provides no fish      Human to choose, empathise and endure Banks of glazed snow Moonlit evangelical trees Malls of Isolation, lonely, impenetrable but ajar Welcomed aestivation spreads its joy The curtain on spring time is drawn free of an icy grip      Human to protect diversity, past and future Bear trails getting closer Time for the dog to earn its keep The scent is taken The hunt commences The scope picks up the target The young bear is marking its new territory      Human to destroy, interfere and absolve Pull the trigger The sound echoes around Crows explode into the sky A small cloud of snow billows up The bear now heading East A few judicious air shots keep it heading away      Human to observe, savour and respect Ice starts to give way to the warming sun, air and water Time to check and prepare the boat Set the nets in the river Cherish natures delicate flowers Let the animals out to graze      Human in relaxing, changing and evolving Enjoy riverine skinny dips Untangle knotted hair Adrift in the shallow pool Newly skinned dragon-fly cruises Preened wagtail eyes up the feast      Human to feel, laugh and cry Cleansed of winter odours Calloused fingers ****** with beeswax *** boiled doused clothes Gaping holes where threads fail Skin soaked in warming rays      Human to theorise, invent and engineer Wading through heaving rivers Enjoying fresh food again Bountiful mushrooms Plentiful hunting, trapping and fishing New born in the sty      Human to aspire, educate and archive Turn over the vegetable patch Dig in the winter compost Embed tatties and vegetables Potato atomiser goes for spirited liquid Wood logging, stacking to cure      Human to navigate, articulate and embody Day tripping ventures Mail pick up and friends reunited Provision shopping and wares sold Dental extraction Hair curtailed      Human to socialise, protest and survive Time to be bitten by the flying blighters Darkness gives way to the light of all day Abundant berries and supplies of jam Visit downstream farms with homemade fruity scones Piglet bartering for shorn wool      Human to be mortal, resilient and dependable Dry fish and meat Start to restock the wood supplies Collect the honey bounties Contemplate the shortening days Drying pools and amorous clouds of pollen      Human to shape, fill and transform Rewiring damaged fencing Barn hinge annealed Bury another dog mauled victim Re-shingled roof gaps Collapse into bed every night      Human to lead, serve and follow Reddening foliage Stores a brimming Sacking of nuts Smoking fish and magic mushrooms Last visit to the doctor before the freeze      Human to make life worth living Watch the last of the departing birds Snuggle up with a moonshine viewing the rising moon over mountain peaks Card and spin the wool Pull out the knitting needles for the first jumper of the production year Hibernation and snows will seal the year      Love to be a human
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122
The sun has become harder to bear this late April morning.....under a perfect blue sky, the sun is bright as ever, it slightly ****** the skin, grass takes all the heat but is just as green and still sways to the blowing wind... we're showered with many tribulations, bombarded with dim scenarios...revelations of despondency, death, desperation, ......and of man's evil inclinations... fear and confusion filter through holes and tiniest crevices of grounds and walls, we make do with small corners, just to create spaces apart from each other we hear warnings...talks in apocalyptic tones...we learn of events cataclysmic, yet, we ignore earth's stormy winds and waves, telling us.....begging us to change our ways. we breathe, we can see, we have ears clearly, we choose what to see and hear... ........................................................ ....................................................... ..........................Spring's sky is all over, but, the lilt, the spring feeling, is nowhere ....................................................... ....................................................... Sally Copyright Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan April 5, 2020
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Apr 4, 2020
Apr 4, 2020 at 9:40 PM UTC
The Feeling is Nowhere
Always out of place, And looking for more. I have many hopes and dreams, Yet they never soar. In need of a push, Some motivation. But all it ever does Is turn into frustration. Wake up with adrenaline, But it never lasts. All I ever think about Is how I failed in the past. I’m stuck in a rut And can’t get out. I feel like I can do it But then my head fills with doubt. I try and try again, But I always fail. Do I try again? Or keep walking down this trail. Everywhere I look, I see success. I keep going nowhere Even though I try my best. Tired of being comfortable In the same place. All of this talent and ideas Going to waste. It’s time to get to work, These words I must embrace. No more sitting on the sidelines, It’s time to join the race.
0
Jul 30, 2018
Jul 30, 2018 at 1:40 AM UTC
Trials and Tribulations
The dagger is deep in her chest, In great precision with the heart. Empty eyes fill up quick with tsunamis. Her sadness weighs a ton on her shoulders. When her kindness is taken for weakness, she becomes broken, little by little. Her bright smile surpasses a lifetime of pain. Her way with words shows experience & tribulation. Her eyes possess conundrum & distress. Body imbibed by caliginosity, She is trapped in an eerie forest. She is a fly in a spiders web, Struggling to detach herself from the dreadful bleakness. She's been incapable of doing this all her life, But now, She seeks revenge on the killer of happiness With high hopes of restoring her contentment.
0
Jul 21, 2018
Jul 21, 2018 at 4:41 PM UTC
Untitled
Even in mine worries, Angst, despair, Don't worry mine Jane; Mine love is right here. Even in mine trial's; Tribulations I face. With thee, Right next to me; There's a smile on Mine face. Though the sand may Be crumbling, and The castle's slide to the sea; There's the beauty of me Having, thou that Set's me free. Though mine flesh And heart mayest fail, And the cloud's shalt roll around; Mine soul is at ease With thee mine queen; With thy voice I float Off the ground. ©Brandon nagley ©Lonesome poet's poetry ©Earl Jane nagley dedicated( agapi mou)
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Dec 3, 2016
Dec 3, 2016 at 5:11 PM UTC
Side by side( even though faraway)
Golden coin gleaming in hand. All his hopes took refuge in that vestige of conjured worth. The man with no name would buy his name this day... The empire's burgeoning halls pressed in around him as he strode. They would devour him in this moment if they had not done so already. Yet, why the empire? There are more docile things to tame. Everything is the same for the man with no name. "People would apologize for stepping on me, but they knew not what to call me, so they went somnolently on their way." I try to imagine these are the things he'd say, instead these are the words of those I know, those that I can hear, see, smell, touch... taste. The man with no name's words are a waste. He leaves no footprints wherever he may go. The steps to the Hand of the Empire are steep. Some will climb it, some will weep. Yet, the man with no name will not turn back this day; he takes a moment to fill and a moment to pray. His memories are so vibrant, so full of clarity, like crystals in the light, banishing insanity; his tales will evoke the highest majesty, entrance the gluttonous, deprave with vanity, they'll bite the snake and poison its legacy, they'll quietly rake the fields of the mind, yet each soul is weary, cold and blind, when he is gone, they pay no mind. His steps are strong, hard, fast throughout the night, will he last? This is no simple, boring task, the steps to the Hand do more than ask. They take from you and more than due, they make you fight, they run through you. When the night is cold and breezy, you'll find the steps are dark and creepy... Of course, the man with no name bears on. What has he to fear, you can't hunt what you don't want, for the hunt is a thrill, and trash is pleasureless. The steps are perilous, they hunger for blood, his steps are thunderous, nailing thud after thud. Dawn peeks over the distant horizon, and what a sight to see: the man is still rising. In tandem the sky and he play their parts, so does the Empire, putting bodies in carts, for the night brings the dead, so many have tried, to climb up the steps and in doing so, died. The man with no name treads a feat all his own, but see? A trembling hand. The ache of bone. For the man with no name is tiring, tiring, even in the face of his glory aspiring. He would tend to the sick and defend the weak, danger and challenge and evil he'd seek, to vanquish the rotten and save the damsel, but he's always forgotten, that he couldn't handle. So this lead him to this fateful day, to this fateful place. Just look at the sweat cascading his face. Look at his knees, how they groan and slow pace, his legs seem to jostle and wobble out of place. Where is his strong stride? It almost seems funny. Many would do this sort of thing for money. Yet, he does this for his own pride, and that grim determination, from his face, seems to slide. He collapses and the jut of a step knocks his face, for the steps are at his throat, trying to crush his ebbing life. I've known better men to have fared far worse, but this man looks on his life, not as gift, as curse. Who is more deserving? More than he? Cowards! Be gone! Pretenders, flee! What's this? He props himself up with ease, the fire in his eyes would startle a lion. The steps tremble with fury, they quiver with disgust, they lust for his end, he must die, he must! "No." He speaks! "Not today." The gall! Don't tempt these steps, the Empire's nigh trekable wall! "What I want more than anything, is to be myself, whoever I am, so let me pass, you glorified shelf!" How strange it would be, to be there that day, for the steps let him pass, without delay. He stood in the face of the Hand of the Empire. Glistening in his palm, the token to buy his face: his full life's earnings, polished, just in case. He sighed, "All I've ever wanted is to be respected." At the cusp of his one goal, the man defected. One day, he told me this tale. This he said, into my conscience: burned. "If you fight death for a name, you'll lose all you've earned."
0
Nov 17, 2016
Nov 17, 2016 at 8:19 PM UTC
The Man with no Name...
Golden coin gleaming in hand. All his hopes took refuge in that vestige of conjured worth. The man with no name would buy his name this day... The empire's burgeoning halls pressed in around him as he strode. They would devour him in this moment if they had not done so already. Yet, why the empire? There are more docile things to tame. Everything is the same for the man with no name. "People would apologize for stepping on me, but they knew not what to call me, so they went somnolently on their way." I try to imagine these are the things he'd say, instead these are the words of those I know, those that I can hear, see, smell, touch... taste. The man with no name's words are a waste. He leaves no footprints wherever he may go. The steps to the Hand of the Empire are steep. Some will climb it, some will weep. Yet, the man with no name will not turn back this day; he takes a moment to fill and a moment to pray. His memories are so vibrant, so full of clarity, like crystals in the light, banishing insanity; his tales will evoke the highest majesty, entrance the gluttonous, deprave with vanity, they'll bite the snake and poison its legacy, they'll quietly rake the fields of the mind, yet each soul is weary, cold and blind, when he is gone, they pay no mind. His steps are strong, hard, fast throughout the night, will he last? This is no simple, boring task, the steps to the Hand do more than ask. They take from you and more than due, they make you fight, they run through you. When the night is cold and breezy, you'll find the steps are dark and creepy... Of course, the man with no name bears on. What has he to fear, you can't hunt what you don't want, for the hunt is a thrill, and trash is pleasureless. The steps are perilous, they hunger for blood, his steps are thunderous, nailing thud after thud. Dawn peeks over the distant horizon, and what a sight to see: the man is still rising. In tandem the sky and he play their parts, so does the Empire, putting bodies in carts, for the night brings the dead, so many have tried, to climb up the steps and in doing so, died. The man with no name treads a feat all his own, but see? A trembling hand. The ache of bone. For the man with no name is tiring, tiring, even in the face of his glory aspiring. He would tend to the sick and defend the weak, danger and challenge and evil he'd seek, to vanquish the rotten and save the damsel, but he's always forgotten, that he couldn't handle. So this lead him to this fateful day, to this fateful place. Just look at the sweat cascading his face. Look at his knees, how they groan and slow pace, his legs seem to jostle and wobble out of place. Where is his strong stride? It almost seems funny. Many would do this sort of thing for money. Yet, he does this for his own pride, and that grim determination, from his face, seems to slide. He collapses and the jut of a step knocks his face, for the steps are at his throat, trying to crush his ebbing life. I've known better men to have fared far worse, but this man looks on his life, not as gift, as curse. Who is more deserving? More than he? Cowards! Be gone! Pretenders, flee! What's this? He props himself up with ease, the fire in his eyes would startle a lion. The steps tremble with fury, they quiver with disgust, they lust for his end, he must die, he must! "No." He speaks! "Not today." The gall! Don't tempt these steps, the Empire's nigh trekable wall! "What I want more than anything, is to be myself, whoever I am, so let me pass, you glorified shelf!" How strange it would be, to be there that day, for the steps let him pass, without delay. He stood in the face of the Hand of the Empire. Glistening in his palm, the token to buy his face: his full life's earnings, polished, just in case. He sighed, "All I've ever wanted is to be respected." At the cusp of his one goal, the man defected. One day, he told me this tale. This he said, into my conscience: burned. "If you fight death for a name, you'll lose all you've earned."
Continue reading...
107
I sit patiently and wait for the waves to consume the sand house I built A sand house built with the hate that's grown over a period of time. A sand house built like a sad house, growing weaker and weaker everyday. The waves roll over my sand house filling the crevices with water. After the water drains I look at my house and am shocked. My sand house is packed with more sand, strengthening the walls. My sand house built like a sad house, built stronger and stronger everyday. I sit and wait again for the waves to consume the sand house I built The sand house, filled with all the hate and distress created. This sand house filled with me, filled with everything that I am. So I must be strong if I can withstand these waves of trials and tribulations If I can push out the water and come back a stronger me.
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Jul 18, 2016
Jul 18, 2016 at 6:54 PM UTC
Sand House
on the horizon of tribulation  variables hover as unwritten expressions        the plane of abstract thought          a stream of consciousness            holds memories from long ago                     the uncertainty holds us       close as a ghost       our worlds float further away        and the fatigue remains          intimately alive       when I sit alone      she shows me that I'm small       too imbued with a tendency           to exude, to emote               I am barely vocal          the plan is predictable        you pluck sentiment from thin air           and with a flap of your wings                take off into trepidation
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Jun 4, 2016
Jun 4, 2016 at 1:04 PM UTC
sub rosa
all i wanted was a simple apology if you loved me it wouldn't be that hard but i guess you didn't they told me not to fall to hard but i never listen for i thought was different. but you were exactly what they said and to my existence your malignant but yet somehow you still are a stimulant you set gasoline to my fire and it heats up resembling our heated arguments that end up with one of us in pain for you were never the solution you were never my rain to exhaust my flames your a poison and it's addictive yet my soul still survives it hurts so much but my heart yearns for you it chimes chimes in a irregular beat; wishing for you to care but its like i'm never there i always end up suffering the ramifications your my main cause of my dreary tribulations yet, i stay yet, i still care yet, i'm still blamed yet, i cant stop loving you Where did i ever go so wrong?
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Mar 18, 2016
Mar 18, 2016 at 6:16 PM UTC
Where Did I Go Wrong?
He knows to stay away. His nature holds him sway. But hunger holds to thirst. And Blood has quenched the first. A white lie'n the pride of the Savannah A gentle lamb, who's name is Hannah. O'God reign heavenly manna! We eat in Peace. Though wars never cease.
0
Jan 8, 2016
Jan 8, 2016 at 2:44 PM UTC
the Lion and the Lamb
The Crickets cackle “crisp,” With an only interruption, being I, Atop dust, whisper and Desert highway. I’d tell you if I were running, But I’m not quite sure, not yet, Leaving the Coyote to eat, Respite, and devoured, The singing Crickets, A’howl later, To deliver answers unimpeded. I have a faint memory – A snake’s grip promised, via hand and Crystal contingency, “Wiser,” once bestowed, the mystic; An epic complete, atop 17 years of thunder, Steel stained crimson, Street stained whimper And forever remaining, “Under-construction.” Symbolic a more relevant scaffold, ½ bamboo and the other steel, the tower, Note ‘fore me, it’s only purpose – Elsewhere, and anonymous, While I tap my belly to some Melody we’d once enjoyed; Maybe something by, “Coltrane,” Or maybe not; but music we’d both Recognize and reminisce too. It’s an awkward alchemy of sorts, As the Crickets, post-mortem, Persist if only to chirp, and the Coyote mulls. When the dust continues to cake. When the whisper finds newer ears. When interrupt’s abrupt, erupts, Pacifies and interrupts again; My precious distraction – An amnesia loyal in away from, “then.” Somewhere beyond, “there,” And onward, “anew.”
0
Dec 17, 2015
Dec 17, 2015 at 4:17 PM UTC
The Coyote tricked the Crickets, but Coltrane ******* the Coyote
We all struggle, Yes even rich kids. But, its the perspective that makes the difference. Gold, run through the flames, destroying impurities, is needed. Oil, and water do not mix. If one is not purged from the other, the the vessel is literally "shaken-up" Im being metaphorical here obviously. I guess what im really trying to say is, Don't let ****** situations define you. Its just fire. Its just pressure. So, let it purify your golden heart Let it turn your blackened carbonized soul into diamonds! Believe, believe, only believe.
0
Dec 6, 2015
Dec 6, 2015 at 3:16 AM UTC
temperament
I am not a weakling I am a fighter Those are not bruises Those are trials These are not cuts They're battle wounds That's not blood It's freedom I'm a Freedom Fighter   ~Corona Harris~
0
Nov 27, 2015
Nov 27, 2015 at 4:25 AM UTC
Freedom
I wonder what the point is And who is getting off... Truth be told Credit to you, I owe To lead me down this painful road With daggers bearing your initials Perhaps one day I'll realize That you are not a worthy prize
0
Apr 11, 2015
Apr 11, 2015 at 5:40 PM UTC
Glory-less Tribulations
Gallant knights sweeping forth A brave war they seek ahead They can't seem to shake the feeling of stress forming storms that wish them dead //One dreams of a life with the "perfect" girl Another ponders a life of endless wealth This one wants of food and clothes That one wants to just be known //But what none could see And what none could plan Is that world would come crashing in //The vivacious boat full of ***** and broads Seemed also to be full of snakes and frauds //With every laugh and hearty drink There seemed to be an equal thunder clap They couldn't hide from the beast outside That wished to swallow them whole and be satisfied //Enemies can be hidden, and enemies can be shown, but not all trials and tribulations can be faced on your own
0
Jan 18, 2015
Jan 18, 2015 at 4:52 PM UTC
Hardships
A breath of the highest grade, Destiny coming taylor made, The pursuit is gradual, And the path is magical, Sick and tired of being tired and sick, Just holding on while i'm getting a grip, So close we can taste it, Consciousness is the latest, Society ringing in my ear drums, They won't pay attention so we had to steal some, What's the course but if not to know, But to smell, but to hear, but to touch, but to grow, Tip toeing down this wondrous junction, Of fundemental simple dysfunction, Frame by frame we watch through this movie, Walks in the rains have been noted dually, Grief should probably bother me more then it does, Staying positive like it's the only choice that there was, Impartial thinking to what transpires, Set backs open opportunity to Inquire, Expression manifests through tribulations, The spring has dawned on this hibernation, "What's the word?" We cry out in fear, The end has gone the beginning is near.
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Sep 30, 2014
Sep 30, 2014 at 1:07 PM UTC
Grief