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"apprehend" poems
crooked steps just a seconds glimpse behind perfect trail before me, each step a gift Then in the distance I  caught sight of something I saw you kiss the lips of the sinking Sun locked embrace and O' how completely I struggled that entire night and O' how the next and the next and then the  next I tasted betrayal O' how vivid I I relived the scene in visions, questioning my eyes, wondering your motives I focused, I tried more and more O' I dug deep, i closed the miles,, then much closer I witnessed then, you whispering to the sky then you reached up your hands upon the full moon's face Pulling her down from heaven,  to your promises as you smiled to deny us, O' I obsessed You.... Kissing the sun, Promising the moon, As I watched O' I glared O' as did I wilt I withdraw to obscurity Beneath cover of your growing shadow a silouhette to follow making chase of the impossible I can't give up all i do is follow, and look , and press on , just to get close enough To tell you You are still my sun, Though you have another and you are my setting moon, my unobtainable,... and my reasoning for every step, every mile...   Now besought by the breadth The severity of those betrayals I hope you knew, i followed and still do coming to apprehend my little tease, my treasure, my liar I give chase, to how completely how very far I would go just to prove once and for all I love you. I shall, one day... If and when the stars let me they decide... Even they see plainly my envy As I have no mask One motive, Several unknown labels. I contrast the brilliant Silk strewn beauty once mine Falling once, am I choosing Leg by foot, by will and love Outshine the sun and by this Luna will turn it's attention Perhaps this test of time Practiced, lonesome patience May one day return the gaze Embrace in arms my desire The only one I want and follow My world.
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Dec 18, 2013
Dec 18, 2013 at 8:01 PM UTC
You kiss the sun, promise the moon
crooked steps just a seconds glimpse behind perfect trail before me, each step a gift Then in the distance I  caught sight of something I saw you kiss the lips of the sinking Sun locked embrace and O' how completely I struggled that entire night and O' how the next and the next and then the  next I tasted betrayal O' how vivid I I relived the scene in visions, questioning my eyes, wondering your motives I focused, I tried more and more O' I dug deep, i closed the miles,, then much closer I witnessed then, you whispering to the sky then you reached up your hands upon the full moon's face Pulling her down from heaven,  to your promises as you smiled to deny us, O' I obsessed You.... Kissing the sun, Promising the moon, As I watched O' I glared O' as did I wilt I withdraw to obscurity Beneath cover of your growing shadow a silouhette to follow making chase of the impossible I can't give up all i do is follow, and look , and press on , just to get close enough To tell you You are still my sun, Though you have another and you are my setting moon, my unobtainable,... and my reasoning for every step, every mile...   Now besought by the breadth The severity of those betrayals I hope you knew, i followed and still do coming to apprehend my little tease, my treasure, my liar I give chase, to how completely how very far I would go just to prove once and for all I love you. I shall, one day... If and when the stars let me they decide... Even they see plainly my envy As I have no mask One motive, Several unknown labels. I contrast the brilliant Silk strewn beauty once mine Falling once, am I choosing Leg by foot, by will and love Outshine the sun and by this Luna will turn it's attention Perhaps this test of time Practiced, lonesome patience May one day return the gaze Embrace in arms my desire The only one I want and follow My world.
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74
Behind this mask You can't see But its still there Even if you can't believe This black gown And a black rose in my hand This black mask And a dark place where I stand Here I call names But you can't hear Here I call for help But you can't be here *Leave me alone with cannabis In this incredible masquerade No one ever listens But I can see your skin colours fade* Everybody here thinks I'm perfect They can't look inside Everybody can't apprehend the laughter Because they want it in concise ~
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Oct 16, 2014
Oct 16, 2014 at 2:49 PM UTC
MASQUERADE ~~~
∙∙∙◦◦•◎•◦◦∙∙∙ Caribbean blue sail's a galaxy rivers gushing, mumbling for an eternity reflections of Love forms to thee Suddenly silence adumbrate aesthete, A lustful tint of Peruvian trees petrichor whiffs of earth's virginity A syzygy that I can't apprehend but, can fully appreciate its denouement rebirth of once I fell in love been Listen to its sotto voce ruffling preterlabent streams, resplendent hymns humming grasses cues to sing Upon the mountain tops hidden rocks of geos sighting a treasure within only to discover lore’s of forbidden Cascading trees whispered a cold a journey I never knew how to go as told trap between floras along the road Propinquity of my eyes closing thin soul reserved for death, till breath hops in trodden a land ****** for me to begin A minstrel with hands like marbles strung a fiddle of tessellated symphonies open wonders the eyes never seen A bouquet of amaranth revealed the longing heart found someone of new sighs my feelings and away I strew
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Jul 8, 2017
Jul 8, 2017 at 3:22 AM UTC
Xenization of a Lover's Heart
Memes! Angels, aberrations of opposition super standing overseeing you, The screamin' heebie jeebies. Yo, where you wanta go, you axin me we just go with it, the flow 'know? What I mean is, are we memes or mes or messes of yeses gone all johnny rcome late-rotten scarred scared, some thing not so far from sacred when you put your mind to the whole idea of life being at all. Thinking this is not easy. We are Able. Our belly's living waters cry out, you are your brother's keeper, yes, you are. Be leavin' that be, I am is, and you is, too. When you apprehend the meme named war. That meme has led the me-me mob for as far as men remember, but now, machines remember for us, all the facts, just the facts, ma'am. Why'd the d go into a comma, Pop? Welt (Duetch, bitte) Enshaung, glaube ich, vie leicht, aber are we ever going to filter out these German bleed-overs? stay tuned, next week the meme beacon is pulled down, who shall pre or post or ex maybe vail, travail, like trip wow, I hate being a 20 year old vet back in the U.S. of A. FTA All the way, Airborne ******** Herman Hesse ******** Jorney to and fro the east to west, and soon, et cetera. Siam is a mere myth now, eh? As the Narnia thing not called a heathen lie was allowed allowable in mere Christianity. I've only seen the English POV's on PBS, they may be filtered through feedback, meme belching bursting bubbles from new wine 'nold vessels about to plode into eternity, singing along. Thank you, very much. May I introduce, duce, intro duce, y'gittin this? Duce means 2 if you see e squeen between, you see that? Fun. No reason for fun? Who here, now, believes that or, no, bees leavin' those lies be told? Hunh? Y'know? Watch man, waht of the night? See, what I mean? All this from me hearin' some guy say, "Come and see, like that was okeh. For any body, n'me, too. Thinking, as a past-time, is pointless. You know, if you act like it.
0
Aug 20, 2018
Aug 20, 2018 at 1:21 AM UTC
Howard Blooming Me-mes
Memes! Angels, aberrations of opposition super standing overseeing you, The screamin' heebie jeebies. Yo, where you wanta go, you axin me we just go with it, the flow 'know? What I mean is, are we memes or mes or messes of yeses gone all johnny rcome late-rotten scarred scared, some thing not so far from sacred when you put your mind to the whole idea of life being at all. Thinking this is not easy. We are Able. Our belly's living waters cry out, you are your brother's keeper, yes, you are. Be leavin' that be, I am is, and you is, too. When you apprehend the meme named war. That meme has led the me-me mob for as far as men remember, but now, machines remember for us, all the facts, just the facts, ma'am. Why'd the d go into a comma, Pop? Welt (Duetch, bitte) Enshaung, glaube ich, vie leicht, aber are we ever going to filter out these German bleed-overs? stay tuned, next week the meme beacon is pulled down, who shall pre or post or ex maybe vail, travail, like trip wow, I hate being a 20 year old vet back in the U.S. of A. FTA All the way, Airborne ******** Herman Hesse ******** Jorney to and fro the east to west, and soon, et cetera. Siam is a mere myth now, eh? As the Narnia thing not called a heathen lie was allowed allowable in mere Christianity. I've only seen the English POV's on PBS, they may be filtered through feedback, meme belching bursting bubbles from new wine 'nold vessels about to plode into eternity, singing along. Thank you, very much. May I introduce, duce, intro duce, y'gittin this? Duce means 2 if you see e squeen between, you see that? Fun. No reason for fun? Who here, now, believes that or, no, bees leavin' those lies be told? Hunh? Y'know? Watch man, waht of the night? See, what I mean? All this from me hearin' some guy say, "Come and see, like that was okeh. For any body, n'me, too. Thinking, as a past-time, is pointless. You know, if you act like it.
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40
As days jitter by gleamed with such sheer and merry, Then comes the memoriam-filled allegory; Called the times of meditation and redemption, Purple-shrouded cloth with blood has brought salvation. 40 days to drop down and be poured on ashes, 40 nights to commemorate for such dashes; A memoir to be sung, flinging an elegy, Sacrifice of the Son tuned to a eulogy. But have no disheartened faith heard on stricken grief, For a promise of sacrifice is worth that brief; It’s the moment to recall, repent, and renew, Making a mark not turn to long the past askew. Lenten season speaks of turning from the darkness, Losing a part to share with Him pure happiness; Just as Christ suffered for the shortcomings of men, His Church must respect and join for the time given. So do not grieve for his loss, or that of your own, It will be worth such a gain and it shall be sown; For that choice, a short-time loss is a long-time gain, With God, He provides us courage to surpass pain. Such as to come thwart on our midst His forthcoming, Prepare not only now but till life deems rusting; But until time hovers to an eternal halt, Apprehend, amend on such light and grave faults.
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Jul 6, 2014
Jul 6, 2014 at 9:14 PM UTC
The Time of Sacrifice
I know a guy, he is a friend. Whom the cops often have to, apprehend. He used to do some crazy **** But now he doesn't do most of it. I know you are thinking, who is this man. He is a friend who drives a van. Although not to pick up kids with treats, he uses his ride to satisfy his needs. Which includes dolphin collecting, live or dead, he's always selecting. Vaping real hard every single day, is how he spends, his hard worked pay. His job is selling, illegal pelts of rare albino beavers. He sets up traps and waits in the bushes with an over sized cleaver. Stalking and waiting for the perfect catch, he watches the ****** closely. And right as it comes into reach, he slits the baby's throat boldly. (baby ****** not a real baby.) My friend makes his way to the flee market, where he sells the pelts. He greets his customers happily, as the beavers hang from his belt. Blood on his hands and pride in his eyes, he knows he's got a great prize. The money rolls in, and he know it is true, that night he will party until his lungs are blue, (due to the fat rips he'll be vaping) On the weekends when he's not working, he hops into his van, and drives to the border, to make sure no illegals are lurking. Loving his country with deep passion, my friend protects us, with the guns he has stashed in. (his van.) After his duty is fulfilled, he spends the rest of his time, all alone, drinking gallons of acetone. Then in the big city he streaks for hours, with bags of broken glass, that he likes to devour. I totally agree, my friend is insane, and on his family, his acts cause great pain. Although, he treats his slaves with a lot of respect, and he gives porridge to the needy and other rejects. He's better than me, because I like to suffocate, small injured birds. And barge into restaurants, to steal cheese curds. But my friend is the best, friend he can be, as I described in this poem, that you can see. Unless you are blind or stupid, or don't have anyone to read you this, just know that my friend, has your children in his shed, and they'll sadly be missed.
0
Apr 23, 2016
Apr 23, 2016 at 4:23 PM UTC
My Friend
I know a guy, he is a friend. Whom the cops often have to, apprehend. He used to do some crazy **** But now he doesn't do most of it. I know you are thinking, who is this man. He is a friend who drives a van. Although not to pick up kids with treats, he uses his ride to satisfy his needs. Which includes dolphin collecting, live or dead, he's always selecting. Vaping real hard every single day, is how he spends, his hard worked pay. His job is selling, illegal pelts of rare albino beavers. He sets up traps and waits in the bushes with an over sized cleaver. Stalking and waiting for the perfect catch, he watches the ****** closely. And right as it comes into reach, he slits the baby's throat boldly. (baby ****** not a real baby.) My friend makes his way to the flee market, where he sells the pelts. He greets his customers happily, as the beavers hang from his belt. Blood on his hands and pride in his eyes, he knows he's got a great prize. The money rolls in, and he know it is true, that night he will party until his lungs are blue, (due to the fat rips he'll be vaping) On the weekends when he's not working, he hops into his van, and drives to the border, to make sure no illegals are lurking. Loving his country with deep passion, my friend protects us, with the guns he has stashed in. (his van.) After his duty is fulfilled, he spends the rest of his time, all alone, drinking gallons of acetone. Then in the big city he streaks for hours, with bags of broken glass, that he likes to devour. I totally agree, my friend is insane, and on his family, his acts cause great pain. Although, he treats his slaves with a lot of respect, and he gives porridge to the needy and other rejects. He's better than me, because I like to suffocate, small injured birds. And barge into restaurants, to steal cheese curds. But my friend is the best, friend he can be, as I described in this poem, that you can see. Unless you are blind or stupid, or don't have anyone to read you this, just know that my friend, has your children in his shed, and they'll sadly be missed.
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79
Know this—I am well acquainted with the wolf, Well versed in his ways, his demeanor, His dispassionate relentlessness, His pitiless focus on hunt and hunted, His workaday disdain of pity. There are those who would laud the mythical Spartan lad Who hid the wolf beneath his cloak, Affecting some gallant stoicism As the beast consumed him without restraint, But I say to you that is a mere romantic fallacy, A wanton failure to apprehend the true moral. I have learned that there is no accommodation, No covenant to be reached with the wolf, And any attempt to do so is merely to invite destruction, And so I choose to engage him openly, without reservation, Rolling tail-over-teacup in the streets, Attempting to hold his jaws open with bare hands While those who find such battle unseemly and uncouth Jeer and hoot from porch and portico. No matter, for I will continue to meet the cur on my terms, For staid suffering in the hopes Of reaching some accord with the beast Is the not the act of the noble sage: It is the mock heroics of the coward, The sad acquiescence of the simpering fool.
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Mar 20, 2018
Mar 20, 2018 at 2:02 PM UTC
A Variation On Edgar Lee Masters' "Dorcas Gustine"
Beauty and ugliness are not in the eye,but in the mind; Sense is coordinated by the mind. Discrimination is the tool of mind, The eye sees what mind wants to be seen. To awaken the world and the life within and to apprehend the wisdom of light, The seeker must see with vision untainted by the memory.
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Jan 5, 2015
Jan 5, 2015 at 11:59 AM UTC
A third eye
815 The Luxury to apprehend The Luxury ’twould be To look at Thee a single time An Epicure of Me In whatsoever Presence makes Till for a further Food I scarcely recollect to starve So first am I supplied— The Luxury to meditate The Luxury it was To banguet on thy Countenance A Sumptuousness bestows On plainer Days, whose Table far As Certainty can see Is laden with a single Crumb The Consciousness of Thee.
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3.2k
The Luxury to apprehend
Life is a confusing ring, It always provides a wing. Life is a long path, Cannot overcome it by wrath. Life is a song, Sing it along. Life is a tiny seed, Sometimes planted with greed. Life is an old tree, Lets you grow with experience if you agree. Life is a tiring battle, Cannot win it without a little rattle. Life is a game of chess, It surely is a mess. Life is love, Like a pure white dove. Life is a continuous tune, Like the light of the moon. Life is a set of stairs, Remember it in your prayers. Life is a lot of torn pages, Learning it might take ages. Life is not as it is portrayed, At times it makes you feel completely betrayed. But above all life is a beautiful journey, It surely is a bit thorny. Cause when it comes to the end, It leaves you memories you could never apprehend.......
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Dec 23, 2014
Dec 23, 2014 at 8:00 AM UTC
Life - A beautiful Journey
I don't know where, if it will end. Refuse to voice or recommend. To treat what ails us is pretend. Slips through fingers apprehend. To help more than to hurt, reflexive sunny disposition which can cradle sallow sleeping stoic pride. Distinguishing the dirt, collective run beside conviction; acting ladle heavy, heaping, terrified.   Leave things better than you found them Received our debtors stand; surround them. I wonder if to soothe what ail, under apprehension prevail. Therein lies each us, our grail - our demons sinking in each nail.
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Feb 5, 2015
Feb 5, 2015 at 10:20 PM UTC
Truckers
Until I turned nineteen, I never considered where I had been. I couldn't be seen. As I have never been on the scene. Every morrow, I called out to my aunt To express my love, and welcome a cup of tea That is dear to me. "I hailed to thee, Aunty, tea." When she delays a little, I became a prattle. A mature lady smiles and places a cup of tea What a great human is she! As I had to traverse to another city, I had to shift to a hostel that had no tea Not a day did I receive A mere cup of tea. Every morrow, every eve, All I yearn about is only her and I. Like a mother, the love she showered. Like a roe, Neither did I apprehend Nor did I reciprocate. Here my mind does thoroughly replicate. .... TEA.... Every morrow, every eve I buy tea, Just by paying the fee which I used to get for free. Not lovingly calling Aunty tea But, To an unrelated shopkeeper Asking, 'Bhaiyah Tea'.
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Apr 25, 2023
Apr 25, 2023 at 6:25 AM UTC
Aunty tea to Bhaiya tea!
How I wish I knew you, oh im almost absolutely positive that things will be much simpler. I would no longer chase the race of these small minded women who constantly run away from their true escape. Too frightened to heighten their righteousness. A real man in 2016 is intimidating but not for you he is. You're a goddess who only should be standing aside a man with a Godly frame. The look in you're eyes explain to me how a dude with small hands cannot complete your task. I have to ask. Are you finish settling for these dull minded homosapiens? You are the idol of mankind who any ol' kind of men cannot apprehend. If you look into my eyes, press up against my forceful figure, without words witness how the heavens speak wisdom to our spirits. As we have connected eyes an exchange take place. You take my strength and I take your weaknesses. Oh how I hope to get to know you.
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Aug 13, 2016
Aug 13, 2016 at 10:44 AM UTC
My Goodness (extended version)
Tea is, in essence, ******* ******* amazing**. Black, Green, White, Herbal, Oolong, Pu-erh; in blends or pure, **** it don't matter! Each type has it's time and place, and all of it is ******* incredible. **Optional, but Highly recommended:** Apprehend a badass cup and fill that **** with yo' favorite motherfuckin' Tea then spill a healthy dose of your favorite Whiskey/Brandy in that **** and squeeze the **** out of some Lemon above that **** and, if desired, stir up some swank-ass Honey in that **** then finally sip yo' ******** to a higher state of being, motherfuckas!
0
Oct 11, 2013
Oct 11, 2013 at 2:07 PM UTC
I have something to say on the topic of Tea:
Few dared to date Medusa, For they feared being covered with contusions. Those who did wore a blindfold to hide their eyes, A blind date with fate and a disguise. One of the braver men, Who thought he could apprehend, Medusa, his name was Trent. He didn’t last long, He took his blindfold off, And like many before him, He turned to stone and wasn’t heard from again. Another challenger’s name was Wren, Like the bird, Medusa thought that was the strangest name she’d heard. So, out of spite, She reached across the table and exposed Wren’s eyes. He gasped as his skin turned coarse, Mouth open wider than a horse. Medusa pushed him over, Watched as he shattered, And smiled to herself, Even though she was lonelier than anyone else. Medusa didn’t mean to be so cruel, It was the consequences of her being used. By a man to do things she didn’t want to do, Unspeakable and terrible abuse, She was the only one to lose. So, she became a viper, Her gaze became a noose. Asphyxiation, Righteous indignation. She wouldn’t let herself be used again. Finally, a man named Hunter arrived, He tightened the blindfold around his eyes. He sat across from Medusa, the table lit by candlelight, She blushed, for he was quite a sight. He reached across the table and shook her hand, And he asked her if she had any plans. She was taken aback, her mind rolling off the tracks, Lost in a flashback, she babbled about tasks she had to do, None of which was true. Hunter laughed, a sound so sweet, It made Medusa nearly fall out of her seat. Was this the one she had been searching for? Or was he just another liar? Authenticity tends to hide, Just like the scars Medusa had on her thighs. One of her snakes whispered in her ear, Advising her to ignore what she wanted to hear. The snakes only wanted what was best, But for whom? What was the purpose of their quest? Hours passed by like comets, First date turned into many happy moments. Before Medusa could catch her breath, Half a year had passed, And Hunter had asked, To see Medusa’s face. She insisted that he didn’t, But she knew he wouldn’t listen. He lowered the blindfold, As teardrops glistened, Medusa thought she had just lost, Her heart… Hunter had heterochromia, Left eye green, right eye a shimmering blue. Medusa’s eyes were both red, That pulsated in blossoming hues. To both of their surprise, Hunter didn’t turn to stone. He captured her lips in a kiss, Both of them were alone. Medusa found the one who could see her, She no longer had to hide. Hunter loved Medusa, It made her cry. The world is filled with hurt people, like Medusa, Who may push you away and leave you in contusions. But underneath that deadly gaze, Is a mountain of pain…
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Sep 17, 2025
Sep 17, 2025 at 10:14 PM UTC
Medusa's Lover
Few dared to date Medusa, For they feared being covered with contusions. Those who did wore a blindfold to hide their eyes, A blind date with fate and a disguise. One of the braver men, Who thought he could apprehend, Medusa, his name was Trent. He didn’t last long, He took his blindfold off, And like many before him, He turned to stone and wasn’t heard from again. Another challenger’s name was Wren, Like the bird, Medusa thought that was the strangest name she’d heard. So, out of spite, She reached across the table and exposed Wren’s eyes. He gasped as his skin turned coarse, Mouth open wider than a horse. Medusa pushed him over, Watched as he shattered, And smiled to herself, Even though she was lonelier than anyone else. Medusa didn’t mean to be so cruel, It was the consequences of her being used. By a man to do things she didn’t want to do, Unspeakable and terrible abuse, She was the only one to lose. So, she became a viper, Her gaze became a noose. Asphyxiation, Righteous indignation. She wouldn’t let herself be used again. Finally, a man named Hunter arrived, He tightened the blindfold around his eyes. He sat across from Medusa, the table lit by candlelight, She blushed, for he was quite a sight. He reached across the table and shook her hand, And he asked her if she had any plans. She was taken aback, her mind rolling off the tracks, Lost in a flashback, she babbled about tasks she had to do, None of which was true. Hunter laughed, a sound so sweet, It made Medusa nearly fall out of her seat. Was this the one she had been searching for? Or was he just another liar? Authenticity tends to hide, Just like the scars Medusa had on her thighs. One of her snakes whispered in her ear, Advising her to ignore what she wanted to hear. The snakes only wanted what was best, But for whom? What was the purpose of their quest? Hours passed by like comets, First date turned into many happy moments. Before Medusa could catch her breath, Half a year had passed, And Hunter had asked, To see Medusa’s face. She insisted that he didn’t, But she knew he wouldn’t listen. He lowered the blindfold, As teardrops glistened, Medusa thought she had just lost, Her heart… Hunter had heterochromia, Left eye green, right eye a shimmering blue. Medusa’s eyes were both red, That pulsated in blossoming hues. To both of their surprise, Hunter didn’t turn to stone. He captured her lips in a kiss, Both of them were alone. Medusa found the one who could see her, She no longer had to hide. Hunter loved Medusa, It made her cry. The world is filled with hurt people, like Medusa, Who may push you away and leave you in contusions. But underneath that deadly gaze, Is a mountain of pain…
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79
Aflutter by Michael R. Burch "This rainbow is the token of the covenant, which I have established between me and all flesh."—Yahweh You are gentle now, and in your failing hour how like the child you were, you seem again, and smile as sadly as the girl (age ten?) who held the sparrow with the mangled wing close to her heart. It marveled at your power but would not mend. And so the world renews old vows it seemed to make: false promises spring whispers, as if nothing perishes that does not resurrect to wilder hues like rainbows’ eerie pacts we apprehend but cannot fail to keep. Now in your eyes I see the end of life that only dies and does not care for bright, translucent lies. Are tears so precious? These few, let us spend together, as before, then lay to rest these sparrows’ hearts aflutter at each breast. Published by The Lyric, Poetry Life & Times and The Eclectic Muse NOTE: This is a poem about a couple committing suicide together. The “eerie pact” refers to a bible verse about the rainbow being a “covenant,” when the only covenant human beings can depend on is the original one that condemned us to suffer and die. That covenant is always kept perfectly. Keywords/Tags: Gentle, heart, flutter, aflutter, death, dying, suicide, euthanasia, pact, tears, hospice, hemlock, arsenic, rest in peace
0
Mar 4, 2020
Mar 4, 2020 at 3:42 AM UTC
Aflutter
~~~ *to whom do I address this? to whom do I forward fling, weep and sing, this bequest~request, prayer~cum~worship~cum~blessing~cum~ howling to and upon? where shall I commence? for there is no beginning or end, resurrection, a continuum, a progression permanent, from inside out to harmonize, coordinate, what the outside has taken leave to inject, insert, to our selves query, our life hood very, impoverish our senses and still, and yet, to ever inspire and seed relief do you possess that requisite belief? that all that is illogical, beyond sensory comprehension, that all is a steady running creek of fluid starting points, none that can be deflected, nor forever held that all, being demands unchosen but acquired, that all, demanding constant reflection, and realization that the acceptance mystery is but a molten crucible wherein wonderful and awful must of necessity, coexist so you alone must construct, what chance desires to destruct, weld the joints of new iron works that require the bonding of a special solder of asking and acceptance, to be the special soldier of acceptance overcoming that which we can never accept, yet must be purposed to build high the edifice, to stand upon the crane, to look down on what has been lost as well as not yet gained, and that requires saving to see the far, observe the near, merging both into a single point ring alloy, manufactured in order to never forget to be forever certain, it is within our assured power to comprehend and apprehend belief in blessed resurrection where there is no birth nor death, no start nor finish, just the munificent satisfaction of lawful acceptance, that all we build of any matter, that which we create, cannot be destroyed, but will be recreated, for that is the purposeful meaning of resurrection now and every day forward* Atlanta, Georgia Nov. 16, 2014
0
Nov 16, 2015
Nov 16, 2015 at 5:40 PM UTC
The Resurrection Blessing
~~~ *to whom do I address this? to whom do I forward fling, weep and sing, this bequest~request, prayer~cum~worship~cum~blessing~cum~ howling to and upon? where shall I commence? for there is no beginning or end, resurrection, a continuum, a progression permanent, from inside out to harmonize, coordinate, what the outside has taken leave to inject, insert, to our selves query, our life hood very, impoverish our senses and still, and yet, to ever inspire and seed relief do you possess that requisite belief? that all that is illogical, beyond sensory comprehension, that all is a steady running creek of fluid starting points, none that can be deflected, nor forever held that all, being demands unchosen but acquired, that all, demanding constant reflection, and realization that the acceptance mystery is but a molten crucible wherein wonderful and awful must of necessity, coexist so you alone must construct, what chance desires to destruct, weld the joints of new iron works that require the bonding of a special solder of asking and acceptance, to be the special soldier of acceptance overcoming that which we can never accept, yet must be purposed to build high the edifice, to stand upon the crane, to look down on what has been lost as well as not yet gained, and that requires saving to see the far, observe the near, merging both into a single point ring alloy, manufactured in order to never forget to be forever certain, it is within our assured power to comprehend and apprehend belief in blessed resurrection where there is no birth nor death, no start nor finish, just the munificent satisfaction of lawful acceptance, that all we build of any matter, that which we create, cannot be destroyed, but will be recreated, for that is the purposeful meaning of resurrection now and every day forward* Atlanta, Georgia Nov. 16, 2014
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81
It happened that they were face to face when Cupid smiled on the sly The telepathist didn't pretend The thought reader could apprehend.
0
Dec 10, 2021
Dec 10, 2021 at 3:09 AM UTC
Love at First Sight
He twirls and whirls with supernatural speed His usual blue eyes, with smoky black gleam In the midst of a battle, sword in hand Master to master, friend to friend A metal, black, that no-one knows Owned by one associated with crows His messenger, his ally, his beast of burden Caws and calls his silent song of death A mercenary, bounty hunter, with just cause To right the wrong and return what lies lost To defend, apprehend, to defeat the Kursed A story riddled into my verse
0
Jul 4, 2016
Jul 4, 2016 at 7:05 AM UTC
Silence, the Blank Card
Let my love deluge no more-- As to forget the unforgetable. When the shadows awaken-- in the depths of the night-- It brings me to think upon the past-- i then apprehend-- Forgotten was nothing--lost in the broken pieces of reality--which devours the strongest man-- Passion never lost itself.
0
Jan 19, 2012
Jan 19, 2012 at 1:09 AM UTC
Never Forgotten
Misunderstood, even by the ones closest to her. The pain I see in her eyes, I'll never apprehend. Everyday struggles overpower the smile she forces herself to wear. The song in her core yearns to be heard, but remains reticent. Her courage to take on the next day with the weight of the world on her back, and a glimmer of HOPE, animates my broken heart.
0
Sep 15, 2012
Sep 15, 2012 at 12:57 AM UTC
Gladys, One Day You'll Prove Them Wrong.