"acquitted" poems
One day tears will hit my cheeks - raging hail and empty streets.
One day joy will kiss my lips - soft balloon and vacation trips.
One day sickness will swell my throat - fevered flesh and ***** coats.
One day health will sing my song - common loon and acquitted wrongs.
One day weakness will force me down - rusty bridge and broken crowns.
One day strength will lift my arms - solid rock and dairy farms.
One day fear will eat my heart - barking dog and missing parts
One day faith will keep my beat - mustard seed and new feats.
One day pain will fill my core - blazing fire and open sores.
One day love will lead my legs - kind words and scrambled eggs.
One day hate will my itch my knees - long distance and sneaky fees.
One day peace will tickle my toes - green grass and escaping prose.
Mar 4, 2015
Mar 4, 2015 at 11:08 AM UTC
Anwar Ibrahim
Convicted of ****** in 2008
Acquitted in 2012
The Court of Appeal overturned the acquittal
He is currently serving his sentence
An aide to Anwar
Said he was sodomized by Anwar
****** even if consensual
Is punishable by up to 20 years in Malaysia
Anwar responded the complaint was politically motivated
Support for Anwar grown stronger
His wife is battling his conviction
Some say that political rival Dr. Mahathir
Will recover from his decrease in popularity
And remain in control
Because he helped Malaysia through a though economic time
Although it seems as though Anwar is gaining support
From a majority of the Malaysian people
Human rights groups accused Malaysia's government of using
An anachronistic colonial era law that criminalizes
"Carnal *********** against the order of nature"
To persecute Anwar
Anwar leads a three-party opposition that has become
Increasingly popular in the predominantly Muslim nation
This is not just
Anwar has been wrongly accused
I will pray for his wife
And his supporters
Stay strong Anwar
You are an innocent man
Feb 14, 2015
Feb 14, 2015 at 8:44 PM UTC
This terribleness. The blur of traffic lights and puddles paints Los Angeles on my face at night. It's so hard to know who will doze in my blind spots. Sunflower seeds and ******* lining the carpet. I sat on the front porch for five hours gutting the wolves from my appendices. Usually the headaches go away with the squashing of the lights. Fluorescents are the worst, halogens second, and 60-watt 120-volt light bulb the bane of my existence. I look at my phone but I cannot summon a quirky 120 character quip. I need excedrin but all I have to grape flavored children's aspirin. I should have asked for the water. How many unfinished glasses of water have I left around this world?
Maybe Bruce and I will squash after work. I can hear his weekly catalog of two night stands with those married transient women who drive from Santa B. I hate golf, I could have made carried a career in this resentment. Maybe rolling down the window will alleviate some of this pressure. Maybe it's barometric pressure, The Baby is here in time to drag the houses out to sea. It feels like Michelangelo is carving The David in my head and it's the chiseling I've never wanted. It's Tuesday and the drugs were horrible. They killed five of them today. We wrapped their heads in blankets from the Thrifty, and had to have the interns find clothes that would fit for the Christian caskets. Two days until Giving Thanks Day.
I am wrapped in copper and stuck in amber. I am acquitted by nonsense and stipulation, sick with nausea and pushing my forehead into the steering wheel. This is all terrible. The lying I've never told myself. The people that don't even know it's lying. Her and I always seem to escape with our happiness and pleasure in tow. The odds are slim, but our clothes have never fit too tightly.
Nov 25, 2014
Nov 25, 2014 at 2:54 AM UTC
*"For all have sinned
and fall short of
the glory of God..."
Romans 3:23*
Jane woke up
In a strange bed
Liquor on her breath
She lit up a cigarette
She knew that
it was death.
She watched him
Put his pants on
Before he went to work
She thought
He was a loser
She thought
He was a ****
She walked out his doorway
Back out on the street
She now had $60
So she went out to eat
She observed the customers
The waitress and the cook
How could
She keep on living
With the guilt
She felt - the looks?
They all knew her business
Her clothing said it all
So they sat in judgment
Nailed her to the wall.
She left with shame
Surrounding her
There was no disguise
She left with face
A flaming red
Tears burning
In her eyes
She walked by an outreach
Walked in with
Other knaves
She felt she might
Find some help
The sign said, "JESUS SAVES".
Sue woke beside her hubby
In a nice suburban home
She went and made
Him breakfast
He came down
Well groomed.
He went to
Good employment
He had a sterling past
She put on her makeup
And went to Yoga class
Then the doctor's office
Her tests negative again
She filled out the
Paperwork
And thoughtlessly
Took their pen
Then she drove
To Wal-Mart
In a hurry
She was late
For her next appointment
For the lunch
Which her friends ate
She went in to
Meet them
That's when
She saw Jane
She looked with derision.
That ***** ***** again.
She consumed her salad
"The girls" laughter
Met Jane's ears
That's what caused
Her face to blush
That's what
Caused her tears.
Sue drove home.
She cut cars off,
Not thinking it depraved.
Jane walked in the outreach
With the legend
"JESUS SAVES".
Two very different women
Died & went to God
It was then
Something happened...
Definitely odd!
Jane went before
The Father
He looked at her list.
All the things
Which she had done
All the marks she'd missed
But He then
Acquitted her!
He hugged her with love!
For to HIM
Her page was *blank
For He saw JESUS' BLOOD!*
Sue then stood
Before Him
He looked at
Her short note.
All things done
UNKNOWINGLY
Were what
The angels wrote.
How she'd transgressed
Her husband
By taking him
For granted
How she'd taken
The doctor's pen
And other things
She wanted
How she and her friends
Had laughed at
A girl in pain...
That the woman's guilty
That much was
Quite plain...
So Jane was then succored
Sue went on bereft
Jane stood on the right hand
Sue stood to the left.
For Jane was FORGIVEN
Her joy had no end...
Sue eternal torment
Because she was
CONDEMNED.
What's your stance,
My people?
Will you stand or FALL?
For God is always watching
And He judges
US ALL.
SøułSurvivør
(C) 10/2/2017
Oct 2, 2017
Oct 2, 2017 at 10:28 AM UTC
I never knew where she got the bones
But she spread them out in the grate,
And said to me that the way they fell
Would tell her about my fate.
I’d gone to her for the Tarot Cards,
I’d been told that she was a wiz,
But didn’t know what a wizard was
Till I met this girl called Liz.
She wasn’t a witch, she said to me,
For witches were too mundane,
They only had spells and love potions
And most of them were insane.
But she could look into the future with
The bones of the been and gone,
They helped to focus her visions on
The land of the to and from.
She spoke in riddles and teased my mind
In a language I didn’t know,
I asked her what I was headed for,
She said I had far to go.
She told me about my love, Christine,
And the secret plans she bore,
She wasn’t, as I had thought, pristine,
But had men in tow, by the score.
I asked her about the wedding that
We’d planned for along the track,
She said, I’d never be happy then,
Better get married in black.
She scattered the bones for a second time
And they fell about in the grate,
‘If you go on with your plans,’ she said,
‘You’re in for a dismal fate.’
‘There’s blood,’ she said, ‘and a kitchen knife,
A terrible slashing and cries,
‘I don’t know when, but it’s after then,
And a crazy look in your eyes.
Then someone lies on the kitchen floor
In a horrible pool of blood,
And footprints there, and a tipped up chair
Where somebody walked in mud.’
The wedding went as we’d always planned,
I never gave it a thought,
And Christine put on my wedding band
She didn’t think she’d be caught.
A man came round to the house one day
To say that Christine was his,
I took good note of his muddy boots
And suddenly thought of Liz.
He came at me with a kitchen knife
And said that he’d set her free,
I’d thought the knife had been meant for her,
But no, it was meant for me.
I seized his arm and we struggled then
While Christine stood in the door,
I somehow managed to turn the knife
And he lay dead on the floor.
‘Why did you set him loose on me,’
I cried, ‘the son of a gun,
What was the vow you made to me
That I’d be the only one.’
But Christine cried, and she knelt by him,
Her lover, down on the floor,
‘I told him before he shouldn’t come,
But he said that he loved me more.’
I was acquitted for self-defence
When the case came up for court,
And later I found that Christine went
She wasn’t the loyal sort.
I went again to the Oracle
And I spilled the bones with Liz,
While she laid on me a gentle kiss
And said, ‘It’s what it is!’
David Lewis Paget
Jun 9, 2015
Jun 9, 2015 at 4:04 AM UTC
*Today I poured away my favourite beer
for the long awaited tomorrow's already here
tomorrow I dust my feet and wipe sweat off my face
because finally I've finished running this race
tomorrow I bend down to my shoes and free my lace
pen and paper down, in honour of the moment I rest my case
tomorrow I pat myself in the back and wish myself luck
for seemingly bright is a future that was once dungeon dark,
After writing the very last word in Human Resource Class
tomorrow I'll finally take a deep breath and out, alas!
Another beginning for preference of not using new
tomorrow I've got tops to pop goat's meat to chew
tomorrow I'll dance to the rhythm of momentary serenity
I'll shout out loud from a three years' pent up insanity
to set free the monsters that had sieged my psyche
tomorrow my life changes because I'll start another hike
an adventure to nowhere for that's what I call everywhere
this life hasn't been my cup of tea, neither has it been my food
so tomorrow I say goodbye to calculus, albeit probably not for good
I've learnt not to think that the last page means the story is over
No! Happily ever after doesn't mean no more rolling in the clover
tomorrow for once in my life I shed a tear of relief
it wasn't a record breaking hike but I've overcome the cliff
tomorrow I credit tension and debit nonchalance
I've lost a drink today but I'll make up tomorrow
****** drained and deadbeat till the bone marrow
forget the agony of the fateful arrow of sorrow
tomorrow I'm the man with the whip, the legend of Zorro
A butterfly ready to fly straight out of the cocoon
the air caught within an overinflated balloon
tomorrow I start sailing the high seas once again
in the rocket ship of ambition, space bound shine or rain
for this isn't one of those stories of escapes so narrow
but one of years in a fortress from whence I get acquitted tomorrow*
May 27, 2016
May 27, 2016 at 5:31 PM UTC
Sometimes I dream of that night.
I think if it wasn't summer, everything would have been different.
But it was just so hot.
In my dreams,
the world is an oven.
I'm baking, roasting, broiling.
It was 108 degrees that day,
80% humidity.
Someone was once acquitted on the ******* defense.
Isn't the heat defense just as good?
If it wasn't so hot,
I wouldn't have done it.
But it was.
And I did.
And secret number two,
I'm not sorry.
Nov 2, 2011
Nov 2, 2011 at 9:05 PM UTC
Come to me
O Spirit
Come to me On High
For in me Faith is waning
And I feel like I could die
Give me strength
To console my mind
From trespasses committed
For doing things the things I condemn
And You’ve already acquitted
Come to me
O Spirit
Come to me On High
That I may not be a hypocrite
So I may not live a lie
Help me now to give all
The Grace You give to me
Break me down to know You well
Remove from me this pride
Bring love into this shell
For if distaste should sit
In the same mouth as Your Name
Then I should reap the benefits
Of my shallow game
Aug 14, 2011
Aug 14, 2011 at 12:56 AM UTC
Excuse my proclaimed innocents
But it's my finest stroke of brilliance
This grievance is a hindrance
Balance lost in an instance
I am being convicted
For a crime I may or may not have committed
A judge and jury will have sentenced me before my guilt can be omitted
The crime and punishment
Aren't fitted
Because it's a punishable offence
That I never owned up to or admitted
Trial me for your sake
Truth will see me acquitted
See I seek the justice in who I am
I am not worse or better my friend
My sanity should not be on trial
Is it you or I that is in denial
I have no regrets or pretence
I have a tough skin that just doesn't relent
I have a lifetime sentence
Time already spent
The shackles and cuffs
Don't tie me to your argument
For I am freedom in a pen
Try as you might
Come and come at me again
I'll write you a sentence
You will never see light again
Torture and hang me
Walk me down dead mans row
The soul inside me
Is stronger than you could no
Beat me
Bash me
Bury me alive
My written words
Will be the parts of me strong enough to endure and survive x
Mar 13, 2014
Mar 13, 2014 at 12:47 AM UTC
When Colton went missing,
my life changed in every expected and
unexpected way and
i no longer had solid footing on any ground when it came to what i could hold onto as unwavering belief in or count on as fact.
I think I decided very early on after his disappearance that I had either totally ****** up his life and failed as his mother and
I had caused this to happen and
it was all my fault and
I was to blame and
no punishment was sufficient enough to repair the grievous damage i had inflicted onto him
OR
I was totally egotistical,
full of myself,
shallow,
superficial,
self righteous,
attention seeking,
even vain and
his leaving had absolutely not one **** thing to do with me.
For the last 5 yrs I have mentally put myself on trial and
the prosecuting attorney looks just like that crazed Glen Close from the movie Fatal Attraction and all memories of the 17 1/2 years I had of raising Colton are admissible evidence.
Very rarely when I am questioned,
harassed,
looked upon with utter contempt and
asked to redirect my answer only to the question as demanded by "Ms. Close",
that defending myself hasn't left me completely physically exhausted and
mentally drained and
spent from having to defend myself or concede once again of my guilt.
I don't know if I will ever allow myself to become acquitted of these self imposed charges that i mentally taunt myself with but since finding these stories about Larry, Justin and Colton and
reading about such hilarious and
heartwarming moments,
some which made me laugh so hard that i cried,
that mean judgmental ***** hasn't felt the need to put me on the stand lately
Dec 24, 2013
Dec 24, 2013 at 1:57 AM UTC
It’s funny, you know you shouldn’t do it.
But then, when you lay there at the end of the day,
With your head spinning,
You know that you blew it.
Tin after tin assisting the spin,
Memories within kept under your skin,
Revolving and turning and wearing you thin,
Those long lost has-beens,
Inducing your sin.
You see, for me, I’m an ideas man, my brain constantly thinking,
Amplified and catalysed by the substance I’m drinking,
But it’s the thinking that’s linking my drinking to ink in,
These words,
While you sit there mistaking my wincing for winking,
...absurd.
Excuses excuses,
While abusing the juices,
Cause mere minor muses,
To produce abstruse bruises,
Your conduct confuses,
Peering, peers peruses,
Refusing acceptance induces,
Further misuses of boozes.
The taste is wasted,
On the embracing flavours,
As without haste you lay your,
Minimum pay wages down,
On the bar for more inebriation,
You try but you fail to
Waiver your behaviour,
But instead pave your way,
To your bottled slave labour.
It didn’t start out this way, it provided fun out of the blue,
To the problem I was blind as the issue grew and grew,
One turns to two,
Three increased to more,
Upon fixed shoulders heads askew,
Same face, different man, I assure.
Down the hatch they say, bottoms up, cheers!
As the liquor disappears it descends and it sears,
Wipe away the tears from the boozey souvenir,
And await that blissful place with no anxiety, no fears.
I understand why some find it bizarre,
How a soul can solely seek only for the jar,
My own experience has brought me in this far,
So now, this time, it’s time for me to start...
...Raising the bar,
By erasing the bar!!
Now I’ve admitted I have a problem,
I’m committed to drawing a line at the bottom,
Of my past I can’t be acquitted but of my future I can blossom,
No truth dismissive in reality this autumn.
So that’s it for now, I’m wagon bound,
I’m on off this big adventure,
I’ve been a clown, to let it get me down,
Too long in this game I’ve been a contender,
Feet on the ground, I’ll no longer frown,
From the pleasure faked, with measure after measure,
Sorrows no longer drowned, I’ll be around,
And my life, from now, will get better.
Aug 27, 2015
Aug 27, 2015 at 9:14 PM UTC
It's been three sunrises since my eyes have closed
Ain't had a drink in one long week
There's toil and trouble, my brain is like rubble
My vision is blurry
Mine eyes doth see double
My conscience has not been acquitted
I sold it to the highest bidder
My brain is a mess, a pawn within chess
By my demons, I've been slighted
There's much to confess
Ambition had been twisted in unscrupulous knots
I stared blankly at the ceiling until the sun rose
My mind is a maze; I've been up for days
My stomach is empty
My demons sing praise
I haphazardly buried my reckless past
Indeed, it repaid me with a cruel vengeance
Collecting my fears through so many years
I've poisoned my body
With too many beers...
Apr 10, 2021
Apr 10, 2021 at 9:20 PM UTC
Ripping up flowers
Tearing off petals
Shooting down stars
Watching them fall
Snatching up broken dreams
Burying them all
Six feet under
I hope my tears
Drown out the sound
Echoing in your ears
Of screaming and pleading
For all these years
Overgrown weeds
And heavy grey clouds
Even shadows have shadows
Guess everyone has a past
Threw my penny into the well
Well, I guess that didn’t end up too well.
It’s like you were Jack and I was Jill
But it wasn’t Jill who took the spill
It was jack who fell
Under the spell
Of that little girl Jill
Who had the best will
And intentions
Full of questions
Bright eyed
And engaging
Optimistically waiting
For the right guy
To happen on by
Well once she met Jack
She never looked back
And that was that
A fairytale ending
Except that wishing well
Went straight to hell
And that water was poisoned
That penny corroded
Exposing the truth
The ignorance of youth
You weren’t all you seemed
A wolf in sheep’s clothing
Bursting at the seams
The real you came through
But that’s old news
What’s worse is I stayed
Even though day after day
It all was the same
Routine
You think
I would have learned
But I didn’t
And you were only acquitted
When death finally admitted
You to its domain
I hope it rains
Every day
Over your **** grave
And that the most beautiful flowers
Grow just out of reach
Not visible between weeds
And that when the leaves change
And the snow falls
You’re left with nothing
Nothing at all
But the miserable company
Of what’s left of your “love” for me.
Nov 24, 2013
Nov 24, 2013 at 3:46 PM UTC
Listen intently now, if you will,
To the sorrowful story of Emmett Till--
A black fourteen-year-old lad
Who hadn't done what they said he had
In August of 1955.
It's possible he could still be alive
If only he…if only…well,
Listen to what I have to tell.
Caught in one of those circumstances
Of having made ****** advances,
Till, whose actions were taken for granted--
Note: his accuser later recanted--
Was brutally tortured, lynched, and shot.
His body was left in the river to rot
Not very far from Glendora, Miss.
How shocking to hear stories like this!
Two white men, in a great hurry,
Were later acquitted by an all-white jury.
Such incidents are a wound indeed
On the soul of America. Watch it bleed!
In 2007 a sign was erected
At the site of the ****** but someone objected,
And suddenly the sign disappeared,
Just as many people had feared.
A second sign replaced number one,
But thugs seeking perverse fun
Destroyed the sign with bullets, and so
Sign number two had to go.
Officials did what they had to do,
And sign number three replaced number two.
Within a few weeks, it, too, was marred
With bullet holes leaving it scarred.
The bullet-riddled sign demonstrates
There's work left to do in all fifty states.
Prejudice and hatred are blinding;
The road to justice is long and winding.
-by Bob B (8-21-18)
Aug 21, 2018
Aug 21, 2018 at 12:14 PM UTC
Mentor Shakespeare!
He said that expectation was the thief of all joy.
(Or was it his cousin Comparison?
It might not make a difference.)
If I may address you,
Adhered--blessed Grandfather of my soul's art,
My God's created conduit to His inspiration that flows through me constantly,
The ceaseless voice I can never shake off--
I feel this is my only release
In the pain I feel
--Blessed grandfather,
And Father,
Ease me in this tumult:
I was inclined after a few
Short grasps of eyes meeting eyes
A shared Smile
Maybe then I thought,
The loneliness could be lifted,
Drifted,
Acquitted,
Only just for a moment!
Only just for a brief break from the drab outline of the life I call mine!
(And yet, it is not!)
I thought perhaps I was worth a moment
Of a precious creation's time.
Was it not commonplace to build such dreams
In the sand of my stormy shore'd mind
But Fathers,
What sparks!
What electricity can bring down the tallest tower that stands alone in the barrenness of the world,
To an elevated illumination in the highest clouds of the most brilliant heaven of Love!
Ah, the sharpness of the memories jolts me still!
But what of it?
All my visions are turned to naught,
And I have been struck down
And returned to the far corners where I am unreached.
Alone and unsought,
Feasibly content, the tallest tower remains in its solitude,
Unaware that the absence of life cannot render a knowledge of its true state.
What a sad shape we are in,
To expect the world, over a single pearl found
On the tossed beach of the soul.
Dec 3, 2012
Dec 3, 2012 at 3:01 PM UTC
Nothing on my mind
but a tired eye
heavier the slits close
tighter wanting to be shut
A yawn assumes my destiny
sleepless I sit
and loathe being awake
To dream, to conquer,
to be everything I make
A gleam of bursting
tangible light,
humming
The tune as if the bulb
were turned too tight
as my head bobs
up and down
Like the nods of the yes-men,
the beggars and their plows,
Acquitted with nonsense
foretold tomorrows vows
Feb 23, 2011
Feb 23, 2011 at 3:53 PM UTC
The twenty-one gun jury’s been hung,
my assumed verdict, overthrown.
Acquitted by the left hand,
condemned by the right,
a last request—
Think not of me as an aberration,
although perhaps I am,
Do not know where I shall go
nor care if there is anything after.
let me be absolved --
For all that remains is the weight
of thought that rages through me,
the rapid pendulum.
I am not innocent.
There is no recourse.
In this solitude, the only existence is
being alone and depressed
and the tearing of my skin
Sweet Steel, slip silently in.
Jun 3, 2010
Jun 3, 2010 at 8:28 AM UTC
Two conflicting thoughts, but three inflicted hearts, and one convicted by the time of the clock. His heart stained by the sharp pain of a reclaimed memory. His heart he gave to her and said it was her’s to bleed. She gave it back to him and said it wasn’t hers to see. He gave his heart away again, to a girl who needed a friend. Then the friend accepted it and, gave up hers to him.
Time flew by in blurs, their sweet words slurred and reverbed in his mind, which was refurbished. He referred to his past as garbage, recycling out the skirmish thoughts. Her allure had him squirmish and nervous, out of his box. The mask he used to speak of, the one that claimed to defeat love, had reached it’s peak of deceit of, his mind. All this time he had told himself to hide, but the feeling of her skin had made him feel so alive. That she broke down all the barriers that he had stacked up high, by means of drugs and alcohol, death and suicide.
He stays committed mainly because to her he is addicted, permitted to admit it, he’s pitted against his visions. Omitted, acquitted forgiveness. Promises transmitted into words, but verbs are quickly emitted. But the war that’s waging in his head is something truly wicked. The **** he puts up with constantly has pushed him to his limit. He will never give in, to the sin that had him spinned out, from the end to begin.
She was everything he needed to get him through the day. She became his routine, a content place he chose to stay. But the very thing he wanted had seemed to come back into play, but they settled on these subtle terms, rules unmeant to break. She respected what he had, though she still seemed so sad, and he was mad at himself for not appreciating what he had. The bad thing is the the what if factor. What if she said yes, would it even had mattered? Could he really make her happy? Would he only make her madder. He can never talk about it, and risk a kick to the bladder. Talking at her getting madder. “Really wasn’t supposed to add her, couldn’t out her anymore, love her more then mass does matter. We chitter and we chatter, then I hit her with the truth, she accepts it but I’m guessing that there’s no hole in this loop.”
Aug 4, 2013
Aug 4, 2013 at 2:30 PM UTC
My motto is **** the world
no joy in my heart been heartless from the start
and whats love got to do with it
i been acquitted since the devil made me do it
can't help that im hopeless
scopin' out my enemies everybody wanna bury me
cuz all eyez on me and trust me
***** i rise back to the top i feel relieved when hearts drop
like bricks **** my **** you trick
i ain't satisfied til i see nigguhs in open casket
though a *******
child stuck in the wild nobody can change me
maybe envy me jealousy keeps a nigguhs strapped
tried to play with the full deck 52 years in week
that means i got 365 days to think
of a masterplan since they wanna get my hand
in cuffs **** all toughs this aint no bluff
im rippin' hearts apart from lyrics full of fury
so what if they take me
i send two middle fingaz to the grand jury
sentence me
but ONly God can Judge Me Nigguh
Never send a boy to a grown mans job
i plan to rob the spotlight late night
shakin' out of cold sweat im thinkin' terrorist threats
yea i know they government despise me
mad at me cuz im black than the next nigguh
cops is crooked so keep ya hand on ya trigger
how ya figure?
thiings gonna get better in the afterlife
when hells already on earth
when i die ill probably be sent as cursed
to the times of the Devil i was made a Rebel
**** everybody and anybody that ain't down with me
i promise youll feel my treachery
adversary come in different times and signs
lookin' for the perfect crime
****** after midnight focused my sight
and though ill die alone no tears in my eyes
they all dried out **** the clout
no justice no peace this for my hellraisin' peeps
creepin' out the trenches
leave nigguhs stuck like they fist clinched on fences
only god can judge me
Aug 7, 2015
Aug 7, 2015 at 3:23 PM UTC
The energy is protected and restricted from the wicked
the system is shifted and twisted parts of it omitted
The lines of codes are scripted to the listed
Chords are obstructed and rejected.
Life is lifted and gifted everything is permitted
and reflected.
The wands that frees its course way and the cups
that brings love at noon day
The star for only whom is granted committed uplifting of the acquitted
The numbers for notification and feathers for its authentication used as justification
Life brings a vacation with a positive celebration, Spiritualization!
Jul 8, 2018
Jul 8, 2018 at 4:23 AM UTC
once upon a time,
there were two peas in a pod.
true partners in crime;
envied, was their facade.
they kept each other's secrets,
at least one pea did.
a few spilled, the other admits.
she was reluctantly acquitted.
forgiven again and again,
deteriorating the bond's trust.
controlling her best friend,
their connection doomed to combust.
the big blow up never happened,
one pea just rolled away.
her life is now unburdened,
ready for a brand new day.
Jun 25, 2017
Jun 25, 2017 at 6:11 PM UTC
Word spoke in malice,
turn to silver as they roll off the tongue maniacally.
Intention of a depraved notion swivel backward in their motions.
Evil succumbing to the power of provocation.
The sin and burden of wrathful anger trickled down into one simple action.
An act of devotion...
The willful way of degradation.
Hypersensitive reaction to the extraction.
Asking to be acquitted of your transgression...
How does a Devil ask an Angel to condone such an act of wickedness?
Trespassing on unhallowed ground, and living within a ****** lie.
The error of time...
Feathers of white on a whim of a demon.
When does the madness of your demise separate oneself from the act of humanity.
In death?
Or in the will to live?
These question have been asked from the beginning of time.
The answer are yet, still to be found.
Find solace within yourself.
Stop letting the sins of others weigh into uneven hands.
They're not your's to own or to even know.
In lieu the knowledge I have bestowed.
Go forth and live your life.
Happy, peaceful and in the never ending search of grace.
Oct 3, 2013
Oct 3, 2013 at 12:02 AM UTC
Flirt with the truth through gentle irony avoid attachment and deflect in subtlety If I admit it, am I absolved? or acquitted of this middle brow, middle class, half caring, and half-assed, cowardly bravery
sharp witted and forked tongue, thick skinned, with mask on cutting to protect, to shelter and deflect this parade of cynicism is wearing thin
broken homes make broken bones, too late and so long just move along, why try to belong if community is (just) monotony? Are there worse things to be?
Where is fulfillment if this is my penitence? just stay what you are
to think and say, and just make do
these swords won’t help they only open wounds you can’t mend with irony the truth is in the delivery
just say it but don’t mean it just say it but don’t believe it just say it and hide in the irony
Feb 11, 2011
Feb 11, 2011 at 4:14 AM UTC
Sin breeds death expected life turns into still borns
No heart beat and no brain function
As the Father morns
A death sentenced placed on the first Adam
He wasn't the best Adam
So God send the perfected Adam
Birthed from the portal of a ****** Lady
Humanity could not cure itself
The world crazy from the bite like a bodies reaction to rabies
You see our righteousness is that of a rag
Soaked in the T-Virus
That's why the street filled with the walking dead.
But who can turn ****** into conception death to life
The one who willingly died
So we could reflect his light
Took the beating that was meant for us
The guilty acquitted. O.J. Simpson
The embodiment of true innocence
Marching with the thoughts of Trayvon Martin while we all are George Zimmerman
Dead in sin
At the crossroads of an eternal separation
The King on the cross with his shoulders separated
Arms open wide like I will accept this
Your accepted
His death looked like a curse
Satan like I'm victorious there's no question
But our God is sovereign
The Sun rose on the third day broke across the horizon
The son rose on the third day broke the back of the Leviathan
The slain lamb rose into a Lion
Mighty and meek
The everlasting King
Awestruck wonder as righteousness breathes
Apr 3, 2014
Apr 3, 2014 at 11:06 AM UTC