"allegedly" poems
Mark A. Williams
SEPTEMBER 14, 1962 – JULY 23, 2018
___________________________________________________________
Wow Mark,
Was so, so saddened to hear this news. I haven't seen you in over ten years, but as kids, we had some amazing adventures, didn't we? Partying, camping and swimming at the Hudson lime pits. Mowing down on Pizza and pitchers of Pepsi (and as we grew up, BEER!) at Pizza Hut. (We knew the numbers to ALL the songs on that jukebox by heart!) Hanging out and looking at the stars through Budvido's telescope, listening to Doctor Demento. Laughing hysterically as we ran through Monty Python skits as everyone looked on in total puzzlement because THEY wouldn't discover them until YEARS later!
Building underground forts in the North Woods. You, Budvido, Zeke and I playing pinball at 7-11 for hours and hours. Watching Bands, chasing girls and playing Foosball or Pool at the Touch of Class Teen Club. You gave me my first Imported beer . . . a Lowenbrau. I will always owe my passion for those German beers to you and it was fitting that Budvido bestowed you with that moniker.
All through Jr. High, sharing a seat on the school bus. You, Matt, Tom, Buddy and I cruising around late night on our bikes for hours. Hanging around in the Jasmine Lakes sign with hijacked beer or getting free bags of Burgers from Burger Queen when they closed at night! Jousting with shopping carts on our bikes in the Winn-Dixie parking lot. Sitting up all night in Jimi's room after climbing in through the window or going on endless space cruises with him and Raymond in the Toyota.
(RIP Jimi Carlsen)
Sneaking into the nudest Colony and skinny dipping! Always cracking up at the school lunch table. Swimming in my pool and terrorizing my sister and her friends. (Allegedly) Trashing that crook Fast Eddie's produce stand after he refused to pay us for a full day of picking watermelons!
Good times, indeed . . . Some of my most precious memories.
I can only pray that you know that I wouldn't trade my youth or you in it for anything in the world and you will be sadly missed, Lowenbrau, my old friend.
I hope that where you are, your beers are ice cold and that you and Jimi aren't having to glue the Hookah back together.
Jeff Gaines
July 28, 2018
Aug 2, 2018
Aug 2, 2018 at 7:00 AM UTC
There once was a black man... Old at heart, he fought verbally and accordingly with bold words, which abbreviated and arbitrated great art! He spoke of activism. Not just racial, and economic racism. He fought against demonic injustices for you, yes, made me see. He stood for principles of non-violence. Acknowledged corrupt government
mileage, European knowledge and college. A philosopher, teacher
and preacher as well as a civil rights leader. When he spoke his words of fire indeed chiseled and inspired. Causing some to conspire and also perspire! Born January 15th 1929 in Atlanta, Georgia. Named in honor of the German protestant Martin Luther. Bachelor of Arts
degree in sociology. Making a mark in doctoral studies, systematic theology. June 5th 1955 This King married Corretta Scott in Heiberger,
Alabama for many to see. Proceeding with four children: Yolanda, Martin Luther the 3rd to be! Dexter Scott and Bernice to increase the peace. Despite the European police, the movements and stressed
protests, the silence, ****** and racial violence. The segregation and interrogations in force, instead of integration of course. Black mishaps, lack of differences in relapse perhaps! Plagiarized and slandered, demised by some of the wise. Accused of communistic ties. Blinded
by others’ eyes and of our world’s twisted lies. Montgomery, Georgia
bus boycott, 1955 was the year. However, forever in disguise, our fear of tears was apparently adhered. From here to near, also all those dear. Mere letters he wrote, from Birmingham jail I quote! From the slums, some of sums, hail and prevail! A creation prevailing into a deriving and thriving nation. Mr. King’s vision of a dream, mission,
opposition, optimism and truism, on our wars, welfare and more. I suppose this sounds honest and fair. Mr. King’s theories and worries in emotionalism, evangelism, humanitarianism, racism and socialism. Nobel Peace Prize won in 1964. Regretfully, you may have heard of this before. Government conspiracies and indecencies. Assassination
and discrimination, allegedly, by James Earl Ray. On April 4th, I
almost choke, because for him, his blood did soak. Some thought this **** was a thrill or forced by will. Others still procrastinate in hate! However, forever Martin Luther King was and still is one of the late greats.
Mar 26, 2012
Mar 26, 2012 at 12:53 PM UTC
written at the Herzl Camp
"A drunken man got mad at him / Because he barked in joy / He beat him and he's dying here today / Will you call the doctor please / And tell him if he comes right now / He'll save my precious doggy here he lay / Then he left the fluffy head / But his little dog was dead / Just a shiver and he slowly passed away."
This extract comes from a poem called Little Buddy, and is controversial. Allegedly written at the Herzl camp there are claims it might be originated by someone else by the name of Hank Snow.
5.7k
On my way to work,
Whenever I pass through
The Holy Trinity church,
After a brief prayer,
The tombstone of a martyr
My eyes never fail to search
As his eulogies sensitive cords
Are sure to touch!
I admire
The tombstone’s design
A flickering torch,
Whose tongue
Is the martyr ’s statue,
That talks loud his virtue!
“Holy Trinity
Till I crossed the river of death
Allegedly, striped of my health,
Poisoned by evil doers,
Who hanker
By unfair means
To amass wealth,
I had been
A public servant
Adherent to my faith! ”
“Holy Trinity
To abide by
Your commandment-
Don’t steal-
Was my desire
Also to pull out millions
From poverty’s quagmire.
Across the board development
Working better than one's best
Efficient resource utilization
Also drew my attention! "
“Holy Trinity
A generation
To corruption averse
Is all-out
The bad scenario
In my country
To reverse.
A generation for
A developmental ******
That has lust.
I have come to understand
The coming up of
Many a lass and lad,
Whose rights that demand
I need no more reward,
When in front of you
This way I stand
Justice to demand! ”
Children of Oromia,
Ethiopia’s elephantine branch,
You have to detach
Your state, your country
From the impudent
And the corrupt
That still exercise
The outmoded
Colonizers’
Divide and rule
As a fool .
A corruption fighter
Development’s workforce
Is also a hero
Like Ethiopia’s
Valorous and dear sons
Balcha Abanefso
Geresu Duke,Abdisa Aga
And Jagama Kelo.
Children of Oromia
Giving to divisive guys
A deaf ear,
You should hold your
Country Ethiopia,
A cradle of mankind
And civilization, dear
Do not forget
Adding up
Is the current road map
Evil doers
Killing a hero
Could not bring
The change drive
To zero.
As a poet what I can say
“Evil doers
Stop to opt for
Devilish way!
But if you
Keeping going astray
You will go
To the grave in
Ignominious way!”//
Jul 26, 2018
Jul 26, 2018 at 7:09 AM UTC
So that I can purge
these feelings inside of me
The feelings and urges
Of recent heart cracks
That make me
Want to hurt you
The solution it seems
Unsurprisingly to me
Is to
Write
More
Words
I don't need to talk.
Talking is circles
And friends agreeing
With every view I see
Even though my view
Has been skewed
By you.
It's no secret
I'm no fool
So why do they do it?
If I could just
Gather these feelings
On to a page
Surely my rage
Will subside
And then
Like a full body sigh
Things will-
...feel lighter
And you will be
More memory
Than constant reminder
So here I am
Madly scribbling
All this time later
These words
Which allegedly
Will release me
From all the
Convictions of you
But
I write with a pencil
Just in case
The seasons change and
I should ever want to erase
These documented tears
And instead
Pick up the phone
And talk circles
With a friend
Or even
talk circles
With you.
Apr 15, 2017
Apr 15, 2017 at 8:18 PM UTC
Through the rejections and all the hate,
Just before your faith crosses the Pearly Gates,
Though allegedly claimed impossible by the Fates^,
taps you on your weary shoulder - "Hi,
could you help me, no one else is ...” -
the lonely voice of your soul-mate^^.
^Rumour has it those Greek hags have stock options
in the military-industrial complex, the cosmetics industry,
and favour Eris's 21st century avatar called Consumerism.
^^Your soul is not a super-market produce,
For feckless mass appreciation or consumption.
Your soul is a dauntless beautiful sapling, that
'the one' will rescue from its interminable fire,
and nurture it, till it blossoms and glows.
Feb 3, 2013
Feb 3, 2013 at 1:11 PM UTC
So I hid it
Took it like a written confession and
swallowed it
Decades of genders, females and
males screaming, as I melted down
the word on my tongue they had fought to keep,
that they had killed for and won.
As I joined a flock of sheep who wouldn't
accept a goat
Who didn't want to listen when I wrote down
that I believed in the allegedly frown-worthy
opinion that equality should exist.
That it should be taught right from the yolk
of existence.
That it's regulation requires persistence.
They told me that prejudice was a myth
Ironic, they also told me I shouldn't exist
Told me I was lesbian, like it was an
insult, when I decided to stage a revolt and
mark the popular girl in netball
and win.
self high five
Oh dear, what a schoolgirl sin to
perpetrate.
I was taught to take hate by the masses who
yelled that
the classes of acceptance
were unnecessary
Popular girl: small correction, although
I cannot say you personally give me
a feminine ******** I'm bisexual, get it right.
Also examine the fact that you thought I'd only fight
because I wanted you.
When in fact I both loathe and pity you, you
do not understand your worth, and you don't
give proper respect to the earth of your
elders.
Who have handed down shoulder to shoulder
something different from the everyday pain.
They've handed down the hope that their strivings
were not vain, and one day this war will
cease.
The smoke of a pen, not
a gun, calling
peace.
So, I am a feminist and I call for release.
Nov 28, 2014
Nov 28, 2014 at 9:57 AM UTC
Mr. Know It All
Who do you think you are?
You speak like you know everything
when it’s obvious you know nothing.
You act like you’re some kind of genius
but all you are is a freaking alcoholic.
Mr. Know It All
You seem to think you’re Christopher Langan
the man considered to be the smartest in America.
In high school he taught himself things
such as
advanced math, physics, philosophy, Latin and Greek
he allegedly got 100% on his SAT.
Mr. Know It All
What were your accomplishments?
You dropped out of high school your senior year
You started smoking and drinking when you were 15.
You led one daughter to suicide
and you treat the other like she’s an idiot.
Mr. Know It All
Are you Kim Ung-Yong in your mind?
He could read
Korean, Japanese, English and German
by the time he was three.
Moved to America to work at NASA
when he was eight.
Mr Know It All
You’re forty-four
and you can’t even speak one other language
let alone four.
You’ve never worked at NASA
you work in a warehouse.
Mr. Know It All
You are not a genius
you are an alcoholic
you have little accomplishments
and the tragedies you cause out weigh
them by tons.
Mr. Know It All
Give up and shut up
we don’t want to hear it.
Stop drinking
you’re quieter when you’re sober
and we like the quiet.
Mr. Know it All
The words coming from your mouth
are not intelligent,
and I’m done listening to them.
Goodbye and have a great life.
Feb 17, 2015
Feb 17, 2015 at 10:42 PM UTC
Four you already know,
But I can't, I won't,
Put them in writing... allegedly.
The Fifth is my favorite.
Adrift on the Bering Strait,
On an ice flow,
Followed by habitat strained
Polar Bears.
(We'll give him an oar)
Upon landing on the opposite shore,
To be met
By a voracious, ferocious,
And *******
Russian bear.
Apr 27, 2018
Apr 27, 2018 at 9:03 AM UTC
Mr Green:
Mr Green, or whatever it may have been
Was last seen, across from mine (allegedly)
Pleading with some suits in a Greek parody
of his own life’s tragedy
begging for a Parlay of more time
I know not what, nor if your smart, and your no part
it’s none of your business anyway,
not that you don’t care for the man over there
He was just the spectacle for the day
or at least, originally it seemed that way.
Shouting always carries on the wind, especially if it’s angry,
More than laughter or nice surprises, I’m afraid to say
Roaming hounds were all some place else or had the night off
No engines revving juvenile celebration of joyriding
Another car chase at the end of another day
Mr Green, or whatever it may have been
Next morning was found
Face down to the ground
Crumpled, bloodied and broken.
Lips open
As if still holding onto those last words
In a motionless magical speech bubble which cannot be undone
Leaves him left unspoken
Leaves a Mother to bury her son
Nov 2, 2012
Nov 2, 2012 at 10:32 AM UTC
if my pen were a surgeon's blade,
cutting edge,
razor-made
to excise secrets suppressed
in closets of guilt
or shame;
like the married bishop
with the mega-church and
tera-ego,
trading ****** fluids
with choir boys
in the 9th grade
on wednesdays,
after bible study...
like the senator
with two right feet
preaching chastity
while playing footsie
with perfect strangers
on public seat # 2...
like the donald's high-ranking apprentice
who pulled the plug on mc
as he slept
then wept like boehner
all the way
to morgan stanley and
dean witter,
allegedly...
like the mayor out west
with pinocchio's nose
and jefferson's zest
for extra-marital ***
lies
and belligerence...
like the late king
of pop
who so hated
his beautiful black skin,
he beached it white
then paid m. lester
of similar hue
a loot times two
to weave a blanket,
conceive a prince
and deliver a french city,
allegedly;
I would be a lyrical surgeon
with a passion
for incisive prose,
spilling truths hidden,
whole and half
with the cutting edge
of a poet's pen
~ P (#Pablo#ls)
(8/14/2013)
Aug 14, 2013
Aug 14, 2013 at 8:29 PM UTC
Are you ready for a nightmare
Which comes every night
Presents the unwanted fairytale
They call it,
Arrival of The Dark Fairies
That allegedly can depress you
Drives you crazy
Destroys your soul into pieces
Makes you try to **** yourself
Knocks you out
Into the abyss of darkness
They vowed to torment humans
and will never let them go...
One day
A poor little girl dreamed
She nestled coarsely
By the fairies
And they asked her,
"Are you living,
Or just existing?"
Jul 9, 2014
Jul 9, 2014 at 1:48 PM UTC
I'd show you the black and white photographs of this allegedly cherubic 1 yr-old....
(sonnet #MMMMMCMXC)
Oh me! How diamonds sparkle in th'exhale
As winds flirt on the lake's clear ***** whence
Blue skies thus mirrored as erst wont, a sense
Of what? half wrestles in me on that scale
Cuz why aren't we together now, to hail
This bounty in each other's arms? Leaves thence
All whispring as their boughs rock, yellow hence
Mocks joy as I see Mum in sheer betrayl.
We used to walk down to the valley, tour
The yard lost in whatever, and I knew
Our time was short. But I don't weep for her
Today as yet, cuz who's distracted to
Effect is also quite obliv'ous. Poor
As saying is: I could wish you were here too.
23Oct16b
Oct 23, 2016
Oct 23, 2016 at 11:30 PM UTC
I was told about this special book. I was told it was a magical book! Amazingly full of bright, light and insight. Allegedly one look and you were hooked and took! This great book of life baited, charted and crafted with will, quill feathers, leather and of weather. The great book of life highly and showily regarded the ******** the rife and strife.
Brilliant parts of art from heart! Boldly guarded by angel’s darts! Holding from different angles. Behold! The pages of this book mangled, spangled and tangled. Through the ages… the corners scorned, torn and worn. In theory the inseams very weary and old. Amazingly and appraisingly with thrill they still fold! Merrily told
and eagerly sold. The great book of life’s pages is of age, cages
and wages, stages and rages! The great book of life each a way to encourage or engage courage. The great book of life was inspired and transpired by a baby in a manger. Some pages spell and tell of a stranger danger! The great book of life is about the beloved also of
the unloved. Chapters in capture, scriptures in measure, rapture-
or torture. The great book of life listen to my envision with precision! The great book of life envisions death’s breath. Missions, those enclosed in prisons and visions! The many, many scenes serene and obscene. The in-betweens, the kings and queens! Dragons, drones
and many, many thrones! The antic, frantic and gigantic! Magic, satanic and tragic! blizzards or wizards! Ancient, distant chants and rants! The great book of life, a chance from a glance. Traces of many faces, places and races! The great book of life claimed to have named those bordered, cornered, loitered and murdered. The great book of
life is it! Amazingly it tells bits of it all! Basically about the small that brawl. The tall, including some that awesomely, eventually fall! The great book of life collects and reflects the surreal or unnatural. The frail and the pale. Actions hailed while eluding a whale! This great book of life will it prevail? Yes prevail! Amen! The great book of life amen, amen.
Mar 29, 2012
Mar 29, 2012 at 10:06 PM UTC
I walk with a limp now,
Two of them in fact,
When I used to glide,
The strut of youth,
Was on my side.
Pain's now the game,
Moving more slowly
My worn knees are done.
The warranty you see,
has fully, finely expired.
Today they took MRI pictures
Of my knees, sized 'em up
For manufacturing,
A perfect, artificial fit.
Metal and plastic components to
replace my played out natural bone.
They assure me it will not hurt,
(Allegedly)
Surgery they declare will,
eliminate the pain and put
a spring back in my step.
I'll settle for the absence of
Pain with every step I take.
But, I'm pretty **** sure,
I'll never ever run again.
Even for we humans,
Built in obsolescence,
Is an unavoidable truth.
Man, getting old is really the *****
Nov 4, 2014
Nov 4, 2014 at 1:32 PM UTC
He was older than he felt
but his accomplishments
made him feel like he
was trailing behind.
Middle school said the
next step mattered.
High school said the
next step mattered.
College said your
degree would matter.
Here I am
making your drink.
Hey—did you hear?
I’m selling salvation
in a pamphlet.
Oh—is it clear?
I’m in cheap slacks
on your cheap
doorstep.
People are dying older.
Politics keep getting bolder.
Can’t afford my prescription refill.
Sign me up for war. Use your
******* blinker. I’m only a season
behind.
He looked younger than
he was, all just because
he didn’t live life hard.
Nothing wrong with that—
some people say it’s lazy,
while eroding their bodies.
I thought that looks
would matter.
I thought wits
would matter.
That a career was just
a ladder
you scaled.
Here I am
managing pennies.
There you are
managing memories.
Hope I can afford a
vacation.
Hey—did you hear?
Your death won’t even be free.
Oh—is it clear?
You’re a tenant in your plot
until the landlord forgets.
People are getting older.
Politics are getting bolder.
Choosing insurance over groceries.
Sign me up for Hulu. Five dollars on
pump five. I’m only a paycheck behind.
Oct 4, 2020
Oct 4, 2020 at 12:07 PM UTC
As you lie on the creaky hospital cot,
there is a lot that can be thought
by listening to the uneven, rapid wheeze
and by looking at the hitherto unseen pallor
of your otherwise ruddy cheeks......
Many (im)possibilities can be perceived;
that a father I may never be;
that my father may never be
the same with me;
that you may well have entered
the last lap
in your race for that ever elusive
qualifying tag;
that come what may, one day
you shall really be a non-entity
and there may be only me
to see you lying limp and lifeless
just as you now seem to be......
Perceptions may not be real.
The only reality, is a single soul searching query:
Does any materialist passion
or for that matter, a self-effacing spiritualism,
allow anyone to cause the demise of the one
still huddled up in that warm,
allegedly safe darkness of anonymity?
Isn't a human life, howsoever insignificant it be might,
too much a price to pay
for even the rarest gain...
in this provisional little world
of putty clay?
Nov 21, 2019
Nov 21, 2019 at 9:51 AM UTC
Kiss of passion laced with mellow hemlock for suicides pleasure in a kiss goodbye,
Entered the realms of dark skies as a kiss goodnight,
A toxic tranquility as drifting away,
Glides softly into serenity via gentle paralysis,
Up and coming in gradual waves as waving goodbye,
Cyanosis catches up, heart and brain devoid of feeling,
What joy,no pain,
Slips from a nightmare,
Shaking screaming
A fiery fury as hemlock laced kiss,
Hits the final spot before dying,
Crying a fatal goodbye,
Crucified as cheerio,
Blessed incarnate no fury,
For all is not lost,
Allegedly death is the last great escapade!
By ladylivvi1
© 2013 ladylivvi1 (All rights reserved)
Aug 4, 2013
Aug 4, 2013 at 7:00 AM UTC
Alone never, forever, always my choice
Mindset blown to pieces, losing my voice
Is it up to you, up to me? Why do we dwell?
Who knows, can time really tell?
Time, destroyer of all
Attempting to heal us until we all fall
Sticks and stones, they hurt our bones
Words **** you, kick us from our thrones
Lost, desolate, insane
Rain engulfing me, drowning in pain
A sucker for the remedy
Drugs be the medicine, allegedly
The battle ongoing
Have I lost or are we growing?
Forever unknowing
Feelings nothing more but slowing
Days filled with nothing else but rowing
Grey times, the hurt overflowing
Sep 12, 2016
Sep 12, 2016 at 1:27 PM UTC
. {a parable of celebrity} .
Ol' Rip [died January 19, 1929]; was a horned lizard
commonly referred to as a horned toad, or ***** toad,
whose supposed 31-year hibernation
as an entombed animal is believed
by some and doubted by others.
His name is a reference to the fictional character Rip Van Winkle.
In 1897, a horned lizard was placed in a cornerstone
of the Eastland County Courthouse in Eastland,
Texas along with other time capsule memorabilia.
When the courthouse was torn down 31 years later,
the cornerstone was opened on February 18, 1928,
a live horned lizard was produced,
allegedly from within the time capsule. The lizard became a celebrity,
and went on tour,
even being taken to Washington, D.C. to meet President Calvin Coolidge.
Ol' Rip died eleven months later,
and his remains are on display in the new Eastland County Courthouse.
In 1973 the body was stolen
and an anonymous letter explained
that the finding of Ol' Rip alive had been a hoax
and demanded other unnamed co-conspirators come forth.
When no one did, another letter was received
saying the coffin and body could be found in the county fairgrounds.
The coffin was found there and returned to the courthouse.
Some speculate that the body in the coffin was a substitute,
the real lizard
| now held in a private collection. |
Oct 7, 2018
Oct 7, 2018 at 3:28 AM UTC
the devil allegedly
comes to steal **** destroy
which sounds like a lot of work
but probably isn't
in a place like this
even a first-grade massacre
won't undistract
us for long; the devil
doesn't have to cook
a *** of tsunami
or epidemic or
genocide
all he has to do is let us
worship shiny toys
on the altar of Time
and as ever
i'm as guilty
as anyone
Mar 27, 2013
Mar 27, 2013 at 12:30 PM UTC
It is a crazed world
Where sanity and insanity war
Man tethered by responsibility
Grazing between choices
Choosing a pathway to lifelessness
The black hole of all human life
The one side that we do not know
Pulling each one of us randomly
When man chooses sanity,
He lives to a scale
Set by the society, family and himself
Balancing happiness between all
Hmm! What are a wondering way to live?
Sometimes I do think its easier to be insane
At least then I don't have to play by the rules
My dad a preacher, and mom a judge
Both speaking of hell,
One allegedly ruled by demons,
And another built of stone and bars
Designed for people like me
The sons of anarchy?
She replies, " yes indeed!"
And why do I believe her?
Is it a paranormal feature that all mothers have?
Or they just tap into their children's naivety?
Using sincere eyes that say, all is well
Hmm! A powerful weapon they wield
But anyway, this time,
some part of me still hinges
On the thought that insanity is better
Cause one doesn't have to be tethered by anything
am I demented?
Tell me, really, am I?
I understand that responsibility defines life
It is the soul of sanity
And yet most of those who choose it seem unhappy
Unlike our brothers who choose the later
Living care free and drowning in physical laughter
And yet, them too are not truly happy
Tell me dad, what is life?
Is it the choice of how we make us happy?
And if yes, what is happiness?
Is it that gained by sanity or insanity? Or may be both?
Huh? Tell me
Yours truly,
Markus,
The 10 year old son
Note: I will be playing with Cathy next door
Thought you should know in case you need me
I love her hair and she smells good
I understand you don't want me to play with her
But I just won't stop
Reason, because I like breaking rules
Love you mom. Love you dad
May 31, 2016
May 31, 2016 at 3:45 PM UTC
We are cycling
Bicycling
They're living in screens
While we count on a dream
Acting sweet and intrigued
In truth, the inside is mean
I mean, the inside, it screams
till physically I'm fatigued
the pain's kept in the knees
Keep confidence in my feet
Their desire to be "free"
Is absurd, I can see, but allegedly
this ridiculous urge
has implanted a need
It has been made aware
they're relying on me
Where's my brake? Set me "free"
When I brake, let me be.
Seems I brake constantly..
but my mind sees itself
very differently
Thinks itself to be
so peaceful and serene
similar to a tree growing gradually
towards the vastness that keeps
beyond my tallest leaf
My success is not make believe
Just set in time appropriately
To ensure I've achieved
and uncovered all the wisdom
it takes a human being
just to breathe
yes i know that's an inborn skill
that supposedly comes to us all
naturally
but hear out my plea
Take a deep sigh and think.
Do I really feel "free"?
Did you feel it forced,
or was your breath like a breeze
flowing effortlessly
from your lungs to your teeth?
Because that's what we need
The weightless tranquility
of feeling whole and complete.
That feeling of "free"
I can't wait to hold it inside of me,
and until my time I will wait patiently.
May 30, 2013
May 30, 2013 at 3:35 PM UTC
i was tald
to not any more write
any political manifested verses
allegedly it is boring and out of times
instead i was recommended to write just about love
this opinion of the experienced poet himself
made me fall into confusion
isnt anything interconnected?
The love fails sometimes because
of quite political treason
isnt it a reason
to revenge
to rage
to rebel?
Dec 9, 2013
Dec 9, 2013 at 3:11 PM UTC