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"alloted" poems
Letting go can be tough Perhaps the harshest measure Many times we will face Changes that last forever "What if I'd done this?" "What if I'd done that?" Questions to go unanswered And irrelevant to the fact The adoption of acceptance Is your only quest The only option to be alloted Now swallow to digest Observe the tremble in your hands Your eyes begin glistening Your heart is in your ears But who's the one listening? As it courses through your veins Something celebrates in your heart Every storm runs out of rain The Truth in you prevails As you begin to emerge Once again to raise the sails You've let it run it's course You've stopped the irradic spinning Focusing on the Now Every breath a new begining The only stake it has claimed Is to your education Simply a reminder Of life's continuing alteration To err is only human And Forgiveness is Divine You, they, deserving or not Just turn the coin to see the shine Yes, we have a choice To see the brighter side We don't have to dwell In the illusion of The Lie Just as it came Let it go with an ease Accepting what it WAS Join your Self and thaw the freeze It will come again Your Knowing, now a weapon It has lost the ferocity Sanity no longer threatened You can call it thick skinned Or unwavering balance You can call it indifferent I will call it an Allowance.
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Jan 22, 2015
Jan 22, 2015 at 10:53 AM UTC
The Gift
No father could ask for A son so bright I can't promise you a perfect example Afraid of what I may inspire But with me here at least there is hope A glimmer of light for the next generation Starts with you wanting to learn The best defense for life is to learn Never be afraid to let your gift shine bright Don't expect to fit in with your generation But do expect to lead them by example Understand that you are part of what is left of hope You were born to inspire Seek out how you will inspire In the allotted time knowledge is yours to learn Time alloted is prolonged we hope Because your future is bright Turn those that doubt you into examples Let positive thoughts come into generation Pray for your generation Appreciate those you inspire Dont let the system make you an example Ignorance does not uphold in the court of law so you must learn Jail is not for the bright and dims hope No matter the situation never be deserted by hope Always keep in mind A new generation Never let skin complexion twist your judgment to whats wrong isn't bright Burry your eyes in archives Black Egyptians will inspire Our proper history you will learn It is then you dont expect but begin to lead by example Like Malcolm X or Dr. King for example Someone has to rekindle the hope History teaches but we didnt learn As for your generation Hopefully something will inspire Something with a soul, something real, something bright...
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Jan 29, 2016
Jan 29, 2016 at 5:41 PM UTC
A New Hope
Traction, It's keeping yourself on the alloted trail, Like a group of spikes pertruding from your hiking shoes. Hidden underneath bleak chances to run off course, There is traction. Ascension, It's the higher sense of letting go, Like a swell from the waters of slightly unsecured mentality. Stationed right above the need for grounding. There is ascension. Illumination, It's the spurt of clarity, intense maturity, Like a smith of fine silver, molding his first ring. Seeing what might be, and generating the material. There is illumination. Perfection, Its understanding the material is but a spec of truth. Like something without beginning,.. without end. Immortal, appearing mortal, But, sincerely niether There is perfection. That is what you are. I am.
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Sep 9, 2015
Sep 9, 2015 at 12:22 AM UTC
Life Mastered
In fleeting moments we discover happiness Only to have the moments fade Like white clouds that hang in the sky Until the winds come and they are gone. Walking down the street I see The beauty of flowers blooming in the fall Chrysanthemums in a yard as I walk by I stop to see them, But their fragrance is bitter Best seen from a distance Is this the way of life? Time comes and time goes We see the spring, the summer Autumn and winter and each in their turn Gives us things from which we build life But we do not own the seasons The sun rises high and shines upon the world And then it sets and the moon takes it's place and each reveal things to us But we can not stop them or even make them pause The years are water - we cannot hold them in our hands Should we mourn for what we do not have For things, not lost, for they were never ours? Or should we simply ride the river Enjoy the passing scene Accept what gifts we are given and live our alloted time?
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May 29, 2010
May 29, 2010 at 3:04 PM UTC
Thoughts in the Evening
Something strong enough to suspend Each of my one hundred seventy pounds Buoyantly bracing me, Broken brain and all. Keeping my modest necessities of life Within reach of my lips Will suffice. I very much want to live simple Better yet... I simply want to live. To make the moments of minimal material...magic. Grandiose festivities from a week-long Separations reuniting. To be paid per diem for successfully Inhaling the alloted breaths Assigned for the day. Pleading, Hoping, Longing, Que así sea.
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Feb 1, 2016
Feb 1, 2016 at 7:01 PM UTC
Viscosity
I laid asleep in the deepest dream Till the alarm shattered my mind How quickly came the mornings sounds Get Up! Is it really time? I look and see I'm started late The clock it must be broke How can it be. Did I set it wrong? Is someone playing a joke I quickly arise to meet the day Prepared for a shower that's hot Then I recieve a shocking surprise As I find the hot water is not I begin to dress in double time manner It was time to be headed out Then I turned around and took a step And my cat shrieked out a shout!! My heart now racing along with me I find myself in the kitchen At first it was eggs and bacon But due to time now I'm switchin I'll now have toast from the toaster I'll make it a double stack Up it pops in its alloted time Crispy and burnt and black Forget the toast I have no time But caffeine is a must I find no sugar no creamer no spoon Looks like coffee is also a bust Out the door at last I go Coffee! Man I NEEDED that! Then low and behold I look to see Out of the four one is flat Can you believe because I cannot BLEEP and BLEEP and BLEEP!! I call the boss ,"Sorry I'm sick" And I go back to sleep. RLB
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Feb 4, 2015
Feb 4, 2015 at 9:30 AM UTC
The Morning I Went Back To Sleep
Can we as men comprehend The value of time Or is time a commodity much to rare To be assessed by our feeble mind Can time be bought for gain Or for wealth be bought or sold Does time posses a value Such as diamonds or as gold Is time it's self a currency To be saved as an investment Should a return be expected As we prepare for retirement Could time be a hidden treasure An object we seek to posses To add to what time we think we have Do we over this thought obsess We as men want so much Of what we cannot see For we men know not how much time Is alloted to you and me While we are breathing life Unseen time is always appearing And at the very same moment Unseen time is disappearing So,what is the value of time? Will the answer by man be ever revealed Or will this mystery that plaques mans mind From his knowledge forever be sealed. RLB
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Jan 26, 2015
Jan 26, 2015 at 7:16 PM UTC
The Value of Time
O how quickly hastens time The days they turn to years Like a shooting star across the sky Then quickly disappears Moments passed become remembered Growing sweeter with the time Just as grapes put to the lips Taster sweeter from the wine Time now gone becomes more precious Valued more than gold or money Scenes held so dear remain unchanged Just as the taste of the long kept honey Then comes the hour our breath is faded And our eyes no longer see The memories we held so dear in life Are then given up to eternity No more seen and no more known Just as times alloted wages Our memory is taken to the grave And there we are given to the ages
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Feb 19, 2013
Feb 19, 2013 at 9:03 AM UTC
Remembering
From the tomorrow we hope to come We can never borrow time And from its minutes we cannot take From the day that lays behind Each day given holds its own A measured amount of alloted hours We cannot add or detract from one This task is not within our power We only have what time is given There is no time within the past And the time that is yet to come Is fleeting quickly and will not last The time now that we posses Is the greatest gift we have been given It cannot be bought with gold or silver And it's value cannot be written Will you spend your time as a fool will do Upon temporary and fleeing pleasure Or will you spend it on things eternal And lay up for yourself in heaven , treasure
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Aug 2, 2013
Aug 2, 2013 at 8:29 AM UTC
Time
It's a struggle, a dilemma; One that have always been but a procurement of emptiness and insecurity, in the way of a fish out of water. While life and death was never brought to front, it was simply the matter of awaiting the alloted time. It would've been good to recognise all the weaknesses and treachery at a glance but in that split second when a point was made, naught came to mind but a lesson of life. Of simple humiliation, of swallowing that lump in the back of your throat and suppressing that gargantuan rise of emotions in the chest, heavy and foreboding. Because it is then you learn, of yourself and the world. No one promises that it'll all be fine, but there's more to life than failures and setbacks. On the day past the point of living, maybe then you'd understand that it all is necessary afterall.
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Jan 15, 2015
Jan 15, 2015 at 6:04 AM UTC
A Fish Out Of Water
her light is dim, her words are slow, she ambles now. no more for her, the rat race. no more, the daily grind. her food is mush, she sits alseep, for hours, in the warm sunshine. no more hustle, nor any hint of bustle. she is stooped and has made an art, of the acts of decline. no more, taking orders, she, bides her own time. she knows, her coil is ending and that, the gentle night beckons. but still she whines. until shooshed and comforted and put up, into bed. this old dog, Bess has lived, long past her prime. it is just a sense of well- placed loyalty, that keeps her mind fixed on staying, here with John... way past her alloted time.
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Sep 4, 2014
Sep 4, 2014 at 10:14 AM UTC
overdue
You my dear.who sits in the chair and disappears for the time alloted. What holds us appart but fear. Of seeming foolish... is.that our stock and yolk ?. What emminates is pure desire. I desire to stand with my soul extended naked In your fire and plumb the depths of your desire. Feel you close ...disect your inner feares Listen to you breaths crescendo...tell me all your deepest darkest in the still of an autum night. MY MIND TO YOUR MIND. YOUR ID REVEALED... pealed away as husk. Your aroma and musky essence sweet and desirous. Eyes closed, mind open. Cant you see us now. Send In the clowns. Well maybe next year.
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May 19, 2014
May 19, 2014 at 8:10 AM UTC
It could be if you choose
You said the way everything is so broken between us is kind of pretty, like a rotting flower. Were we always a flower? Building up to those few minutes of beautiful blossom, just waiting to live out our potential, hoping that we could miraculously last longer than our alloted time, knowing we never would? Were we always fated to this slow withering and pulling back, each returning, folding into themselves, wishing the clock would run backwards? You said to dust all things return, and we are trying to delay the inevitable. All I know is that all the tears I have shed will not regrow this flower.
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Mar 2, 2014
Mar 2, 2014 at 12:46 PM UTC
Flowers
Seconds to minutes to hours They come and they disappear Then as quickly as a shooting star We have passed away a year We may have days before us But soon they will be left behind And become a year now gone That we shall no more find Time is spent with each breath we take Time that is never regained As we spend do we spend it wisely Or do we waste it just the same Live your life fully each day Spend with joy your alloted time You know not how much you have Just as I do not know mine The clock counts away the moments As they give themselves away Then the clock it to soon stops And we lay still within the grave
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Apr 11, 2013
Apr 11, 2013 at 9:22 AM UTC
No More Time