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Secret Of The Soul

Im opening up a window
In the center of my soul
So all the world can finally see
This secret that I hold

This secret that I share with you
Is precious to my heart
Hidden for so very long
That I dont know where to start

My secret tells a story
Of two soul's lost in time
And of a love that has been found
Between your heart and mine

A secret life of loving you
Hiding feeling deep inside
While knowing what I wanted most
Was to have you by my side

As tender mercy turns the page
I  know now  it is time
I will spend my future in your arms
And start a brand new life

So im openimg up a window
In the center of my soul
So all the world can finally see
This secret that I hold


Carl Joseph Roberts
This poem was written with the help and encouragement of Mike Hauser. He tried to break me out of my sappy love poems but apparently I am just a helpless romantic and fell back into my sure and true style..lol. Little changes Mike little changes and I break out in about one in ten poems. Also Bob Browning contributed a few changes in lines to make this more smooth. This is  what I call asking for help and receiving it when you have a block and need a push. Great thanks to Mike and Bob for this help.
I believe
that One who cannot handle
One's beliefs being challenged
did not arrive at them by genuine means.
Their beliefs be not authentic,
but are, rather, artifacts of people
who "know better."

Better; prithee,
better for whom?

I believe
they've been conditioned
to believe in such a way;
Pavlov's Dogs, but via spiritual food;
hence such unwillingness
to discuss the reasons:
they know them not.

They were merely imbued with such zealous belief
as if, hypothetically, by some socially sanctioned cult,
rather than encouraged to think for themselves,
arriving at authentic philosophical conclusions.

But, then again,
authentic philosophy is impossible to control from the outside, in.

Aye, *there's the rub.
This is about no particular school of thought, simply the unwillingness to philosophize about one's own philosophy.
It just so happens that many schools of thought exclude personal philosophers. Hence my distaste for them, and hence this write.
Forgiveness is a concious decision.
Forgetting a byproduct of time.

Soul Survivor
10W
Unforgiveness is a self administered poison. The leading cause of death.
 May 2014 Et cetera
paper boats
Starry night
Dark blissful sky
Flows from your fingertips
Encircles my words
Shaping them into pictures of you
Imprints my soul
Leads me into a beautiful trance
Whispering my name
And mesmerized
*I find solace in the moon.
From you have I been absent in the spring.....
 May 2014 Et cetera
paper boats
How long has it been
Since the rain came?
Quiet and free
Singing songs of the wind,
Blowing through my hair,
Slurring the words,
Which wash over me,
As I lay in its embrace,
*Content
The rain washes away the tears, leaving its own in their place....
The amount of words
Shared in a stare
Is nearly infinite
Take special care.

Ride the moment
And walk away knowing
Communication
Naturally flowing.

I wasn't prepared
When I embraced your eyes
False, deceitful,
Composed of lies.

Everything I knew
Stripped away
With your emotionless stare
Pools of gray.
 May 2014 Et cetera
Lily
6:30 A.M.
 May 2014 Et cetera
Lily
As we drove
in pouring rain
a metaphor
found me.

The excitement
rushed through me
as the idea of the birth
of another poem lit my

wiped out morning mind.
"Something about how
raindrops fall and
open up when they

hit the window wall;
just like them," I thought,
"we need to open up
when we fall apart."

But it was 6:30 A.M.
and my mind slipped
into a quick nap and hence,
this poem instead
I trap.
May.08.2014
Look around you,
A world of fraud.
All these lies
Deserve an applaud.

You hide yourselves
With thick fake masks,
Dropping the ensemble
In the safety of your casks.

You plead for reality
Yet do so cloaked.
Open your eyes,
This fate, you've evoked.

To the few
Vulnerable and bare,
I have a favor to ask
If you truly care.

So those of you
Free of feign and guilt
I ask that you tear down
What we have built.
 May 2014 Et cetera
Angel Escobar
Deep down with the roots of the tallest trees, is my beginning and end. I'm buried with my dreams.
Below that, unearthed, lay the thoughts and words never uttered, that I could feel but never dig up.
-George Brandon
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