"asher" poems
Sometimes, when you listen to their enounciation.
You realize, just how beautiful they speak in their British accent.
Every word expressively spoken.
That you're mermorized by each vocal.
Maggie Smith, the lady of class.
Cary Grant, the man of taste.
Oh, that British voice.
That you might chose , if had you that choice.
Or seek ways to adapt them to yours.
Michael Redgrave/Michael Rennie/Vanessa Regraves
All of them had that lovable voice.
Then you notice the beautiful Julie Andrew.
Words spoke so you see the greatness of the phase.
Which we notice too in Richard Attenborough.
Who reminds many of Richard Burton?
Yes, the British accent.
You just got to love it
Similar to loving Honor Blackman when she speaks.
A great difference from Jacqueline Bissett.
Except written about them with great respect.
Who can't admire the British Accent?
Yes, there's the French.
And I'm not kicking it.
Then , there's Spanish.
Which has more trying to learn it.
But this is about the English and the various style of vocals.
Colin Barker and Prince Williams the Royals speaks so wonderful.
Just like, the man called Michael Caine.
I just have to mention Deborah Kerr.
That also goes for Joan Collin.
It's something about their style of speaking.
Maybe because you understand every spoken word.
Which is level toward the great Timothy Dalton.
And Samantha Eggar and **** Jagger.
Plus, the late David Niven.
And honorable mention to Julie Christie.
Jane Asher, Hugh Grant and several more.
Have you wishing to make their voices be yours.
Yes, the British Accent just so lovable.
And the greatest things about it.
You don't have to be famous to be adored.
Jan 1, 2014
Jan 1, 2014 at 10:23 AM UTC
In memoriam Asher and Franklin
Farmers flocked to Blossburg's mines
willing their abandoned plows
to perpetual dust and rain.
Burrowing into the Tioga hills
with Keagle picks and sledges,
they filled their trams with rough cut coal.
Black diamonds - carved for waiting boilers
of New England mills and trains
and Pennsylvania's winter stoves.
Brothers, Frank and Asher swung their picks
in tunnels deep beneath the hills
and brushed away the clouds of soot.
Their coughs at first seemed harmless
enough as from nagging colds or flus -
but deepened as their lungs turned black.
Pain and choking drove them to their beds
where no medic's art could aid them.
Then the coroner came to seal their eyes.
A stonecutter's chisel marks their brevity
on an marble graveyard obelisk
that pays no homage to their sacrifice.
September, 2007
Aug 22, 2013
Aug 22, 2013 at 3:57 PM UTC
Take no more of Kronos, in guilt
he speaks his secret name.
Shame on you, the brute who gave us wings.
No longer reaching for our halo,
I let forgiveness pass and regret to feed
the marrow.
And he, who finds himself wise, casts
a shadow on another day-- One who
does not pity the shrew, the innocent mind, a
naivete of perennial seasons forgotten
when the Autumnal blaze of fire and gold
became the death of Eden and
the birth of another ivory bone.
(ehyeh-asher-ehyeh)
Aug 14, 2012
Aug 14, 2012 at 12:30 AM UTC
Lets address whats evident
In this room There's an Elephant.
Why do you see us as being irrelevant.
Just because our skin was kissed with melanin
Mixed in with the protien of Keratin
They slapped us with a label of being African American.
Yet we are descendants from one of the 12 tribes of Israel: Juah, Ephraim, Manasseh, Naphtali, Levi, Asher, Issachar, Gad, Zebulun, Reuben, Simeon, and Benjamin
We were taught to be Nurturing and feminine
Because we were raised to be young ladies, due to our body producing high levels of estrogen.
We are sweet like sugar but can be spicy like cinnamon.
We have an Aroma of shea butter, coconut, and honey
We are enlighten with wisdom, so we are far from a dummy.
We cant be bought be bought with your worldly money.
Even on a dark day you would think its sunny
Because our souls are so divine
that it's reflection from the inside will brighten the world like the The moon in the midnight's sky that shines.
We are Unashamed.
We can not be tamed
Inside us lies a firery passionate buring flame.
We have a Hebrew name.
We are not the same,
We are individually different and one of a kind.
We have a beautiful mind.
We are fruitful like ripen Grapes growing ravashingly on the branches from vine.
We age like fine wine.
We are not to be treated as devalued change such as quarters, pennies, nickles and dimes.
Our voices are delightfullly sweet just as the peaceful sound of musical wind chimes.
We tell stories through our dancing, words, paintings, songs, poems, verses, rhythms and rhymes.
We dont need makeup to cover up a blemish
Its just a sign that we have flaws and God's not finished.
The power of Yah flows from us graciously.
For Our beauty comes naturally.
Our souls are birth from the heavenly.
We speak Pleasantly.
Some have a complexion of Maghony.
But My skin tone is Vanilla bean
I get high off life like caffeine
I glisten like afro sheen.
I am a Hebrew Queen.
Thru the untrained eye my future cant be seen
The Most High is listening,
Shaping, and our futures he's creating.
We Seek Yahwehs face for insight
Going through a transformation to get our souls right.
Taking a journey to new heights.
We are stand out like highlights
Shining in the world of darkness like flashlights.
And Yeshua Hamashiach has our copyrights
We say it out Loud
We are Hebrew and We are proud!
Nov 16, 2016
Nov 16, 2016 at 8:32 PM UTC
REVELATION......!!!!! After these things I saw Four Angels standing at the Four Corners of the Earth, holding the Four Winds of the Earth, that the Winds should not Blow on the Earth, on the Sea, Or on any Tree... Then I Saw another Angel Ascending from the East, having the Seal of hour Living GOD.. And He Cried with A loud Voice to the Four Angels to whom it was granted to Harm the Earth and the Sea. Saying, '' Do not Harm the Earth, the Sea, or the Trees till we have Sealed the Servants of Our GOD on their ForeHeads''. And I Heard the Number of those who were Sealed. One Hundred and Forty-Four Thousand of All the Tribes of the Children Of Israel were Sealed.. Of the Tribe Of Judah, Twelve Thousand were Sealed; of the Tribe Of Reuben Twelve Thousand were Sealed, of the Tribe Of GOD Twelve Thousand were Sealed... Of the Tribe Of Asher Twelve Thousand were Sealed; of the Tribe Of Naphtali Twelve Thousand were Sealed: Of the Tribe Of Manasseh Twelve Thousand were Sealed. Of the Tribe Of Simeon Twelve Thousand were Sealed; Of the Tribe Of Levi Twelve Thousand were Sealed: Of the Tribe Of Issachar Twelve Thousand Were Sealed.. Of the Tribe Of Zebulun Twelve Thousand were Sealed. Of the Tribe Of Joseph Twelve thousand were Sealed: Of the Tribe Of Benjamin Twelve Thousand were Sealed.. After these things I looked, and Behold A Great Multitude which No One could Number, Of All Nations, Tribes, Peoples, and Tongues, standing before the Throne and before the Lamb, Clothed with White Robes, with Palm Branches in their Hands.. And crying out with A Loud Voice, saying'' SALVATION Belongs To Our GOD who Sits on the Throne, and to the Lamb!'' All the Angels Stood around the Throne and the Elders and the Four Living Creatures, and Fell on their Faces before the Throne and Worshiped GOD... Saying'' Amen! Blessing and Glory and Wisdom, Thanksgiving and Honor And Power and Might, be to Our GOD Forever and Ever. Amen.'' Then One of the Elders answered, saying to Me, '' Who are these Arrayed in White Robes, and where did they come from.?'' And I said to Him,''Sir, You Know.'' So, He said to Me..., '' These are the Ones who Come out of the Great Tribulation, and washed their Robes and made them White in the Blood Of the Lamb.. '' Therefore they are before the Throne Of GOD, and Serve Him Day and Night in His Temple. And He who Sits on the Throne will Dwell among them. '' They shall neither Hunger anymore nor Thirst anymore; the Sun shall not Strike them, nor any Heart; '' For the Lamb who is in the Midst of the Throne will Shepherd them and Lead them to Living Fountains Of Waters. And GOD will Wipe away Every Tear from their Eyes''.!!
In GOD We Trust,
GOD Is Our Strength,
GOD Is Love,
GOD With Us,
GOD Bless.!!!
Jun 10, 2015
Jun 10, 2015 at 4:05 PM UTC
SO
YOUR
FIRST
PIECE
WAS
TOO
GREASY
AND
GAVE
YOU
HEARTBURN
ARE
YOU
GOING
TO
STOP
EATING
PIZZA
HECK
NO
NEXT
TIME
GO
SOMEPLACE
ELSE
EVENTUALLY
YOU'LL
FIND
THE
PERFECT
PIECE
THIN
CRUST
PEPPERONI
AND
TONS
OF
CHEESE
AND
NO
A
N
C
H
O
V
I
E
S
PLEASE
Mar 9, 2013
Mar 9, 2013 at 4:01 PM UTC
it is a relaxing place the library,
free rental on a dvd if you borrow
books.
a barry hines. all creatures great
and small.the enemy within, a short
history of witch hunting, recommended
by the boston globe, and a guide to
the king james bible, the english language,
words like begat, horribly afraid, goats and swine.
a lovely children’s illustrated for inspiration, delight.
we built blocks, read jokes, talked of mending,
forgot our toys.
i read asher lev….
the dvd didn work.
sbm,
Jan 22, 2014
Jan 22, 2014 at 1:46 AM UTC
Alls my life I has to hop, brother!
Alls my life I...
Hard times like, “Yah!”.
Mad tricks like, “Yah!”.
Fatalist, I’m all lost
Homie, you are all lost
But if God got us, then we gon’ be alright
We gon’ be alright!
We gon’ be alright!
Brother, we gon’ be alright
What we need is a way to lose the radar
Of the creatures of gluttony that resembles
a bar.
So, I hop in hope that I’m still afar
From the clenches of them ****** piranhas
Chasin’ me like a cop car.
Call this eternal for no solace is there
And this frog won’t ever give in to that
Joker’s flair.
Twisted it is that a kiss pronounces exit from
this lair?
Yeah, sure do adhere.
I’d rather die and state my mind clear.
This circus denounces hell, I fear.
Joker’s the devil and piranha’s sin, my dear.
It’s clear what they intend to do here.
Mere resistance is futile and it tears
Lingering hope and steers
My fate. My life. My ideas.
But I take a leap of faith Cause
If God got us, then we gon’ be alright.
Brother, we gon’ be alright.
-Asher Graves
Aug 31, 2025
Aug 31, 2025 at 12:13 PM UTC
Harder to imagine, Difficult to trust
if you have the will, you gotta clutch.
-Asher Graves
Apr 27, 2025
Apr 27, 2025 at 7:34 AM UTC
And at last he prayed,
Prayed since all hope had perished,
All virtues faded and all sentiments gone.
Down the river he now floats, cursed with angst and pain.
He mourns his loss but his grief won't go away, for this is the consequence —
The consequence of action he so inadvertently did without a second of thought.
Oh, the lives he ruined, the chaos he brought.
Denial is the river, and denial is what he sought.
In denial he drowned,
And in denial he remained.
-Asher Graves
Apr 28, 2025
Apr 28, 2025 at 12:35 PM UTC
Hypothetically, I'll be married to her, the most beautiful woman in the world and she will not only feel the same way, but will want to be married too.
Hypothetically, we'll have two kids. A boy named Asher and a girl named Brooklyn. And she'll love them and love the thought of having kids.
Hypothetically, we're gonna own a house and she'll enjoy that she has a permanent place, not just another apartment.
Hypothetically, she'll want me. And she'll kiss me in the morning and be such a hopeless romantic.
Hypothetically, we'll have each other. Forever and always. And I won't be just a face she passes everyday and smiles at.
Hypothetically, we'll be something more than just a professor and a student.
Jul 25, 2016
Jul 25, 2016 at 10:32 PM UTC
אני יכול לזכור...I can remember
I.
in the ashes of Auschwitz
February 2018 / Shevat 5778
there exists no
kol hachavvyot,
the Infinite One bring/ing
all of reality into be-ing.
there is no 'ehyeh 'asher 'ehyeh
who formed Light,
who created Darkness.
II.
the candles of the Vanished
World are no longer
sown in the seasons of breath.
in 1920 Vilna, Yehu'dit bones
were excavated for horses
to be buried,
all by the tongue of a priest
covered in ambergris.
in 2018 Cyberia alleys,
the malefactor mime cries
as Long Island parhelia
flicker in the seasonal
ice around his little girls.
III.
the cypress of the
Kingdom of Night are
amidst natz'ri house gardens,
marking in the mouths of
opus dei children the straws
of Poland.
long after midnight we seek
solace in One-Eyed Paritus's
Meditations obliques,
where Sol Nazerman's
zoharic midrashim of
Shabtai Zisel are
narrated by Claude Lanzmann.
the quantum nonlocality
of the corpse of
ha'Kodesh Barukh hu
is the Hollerith tracking
number.
IV.
Nach uraltem, aengstlich beheutetem
Klostergeheimnis lernen selbst Greise
muehelos Kavier spielen.
-- Max Ernst
this is to the memories z"l of
Rod Steiger 14 April 1925-9 July 2002
Roman Vischniac 19 August 1897-22 January 1990
Rose Leamel Ziebell (1933-2007)
Dottie Sutton (1922-2015)
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
© 3 February 2018 / 18 Shevat 5778
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
STEPHAN PICKERING / חפץ ח"ם בן אברהם
Torah אלילה Yehu'di Apikores / Philologia Kabbalistica Speculativa Researcher
לחיות זמן רב ולשגשג...לעולם לא עוד
THE KABBALAH FRACTALS PROJECT
לעולם לא אשכח
Jun 30, 2018
Jun 30, 2018 at 12:40 AM UTC
Once there was a boy, as brave as poor
he lived on the streets of Tamkador
A fearless young lad, stealing his food
some days some bread and other days fruit
He was fast and clever and so he survived
without getting caught and fearing his life
Tamkador was ruled by a king, proud and rich
He had knights, soldiers and even a witch
He did not care for his people only for wealth
He did not care if it damaged their health
Whoever did not do as he wanted
got simply beheaded
He took what he wanted, sending his horde
waiting behind without drawing his sword
but the soldiers were fearful so they did as he told
because better craven and alive then dead and bold
the day then came when the siege begun
and the King refused to end the fight
some poor soldiers tried to run
and got killed by archers in the night
The citizens had no more food
screams got loud, we'll die, we're *******
But the boy from the streets, Asher his name
did not fear death and not the pain
He snuck past the guards to speak to the King
he did not steal food, or gold or rings
once he reached him he spoke out loud
what many people thought but were not allowed
My king please hear me, i speak for your folk
they are in pain they need more food
You need to surrender, they will leave us alive
They just want peace for such a low price
give up your crown and save you people
They wont **** you, they are not evil
They just want you to bend the knee
and pay them a good tribute fee
after you have plundered them
Now swallow your pride and save your men.
The king called the guards told them to fight
but the guards stood still in this meaningful night
Asher took the word and continued speaking
with every word more guards were leaving
All this grief and annhilation how it hurts my heart inside
all the innocent who suffer from your stubborness and pride
Is this what you wanted?
Your heart is cold without a feeling
you wouldnt even understand the meaning
of my words if you would care
but hear me mylord dont you dare
to take your folk down with your pride
we wont wait any longer no we wont bide
Is this what you wanted?
Nevermind how high the cost may grow
you will never break us, no
We want to live and we dont need your lead
This is what we want
Sep 4, 2017
Sep 4, 2017 at 4:34 PM UTC
Half of me and half of you, a point of divergence for you
Half of me and half of you, a point of amalgamation to me
Half of me and half of you, a false pretence to you
Half of me and half of you, a make-believe fairytale to me
Half of me and half of you, a hefty disdain to you
Half of me and half of you, a wishful radiance to me
Half of me and half of you, a lousy freebee to you
Half of me and half of you, a subtle rush to me
Half of me and half of you, a blatant lie for you
Half of me and half of you, a beautiful lie to me
-Asher Graves
Apr 11, 2025
Apr 11, 2025 at 10:14 PM UTC
I set track with this map of mismatch
That just tracks, and it stacks, and its lax,
On everyone — yet it drains, and it saps
The codex, the freakin’ stats of anyone who fights back
Try to relax, take a sip, but they snap
When I’m sad, like it’s bad, like I’m whack
Like I’m trash yet have the audacity to
bid no eye, and just wave and goodbye
To the ones who just **** up to you while I’m passin’ 'em by
And it’s always just them, and them, and again
And again and again man it pains me to bend — even then
I’m denied to take a stand, but God **** — enough is enough
Of this band — I’ma snap, I’ma crack, I’ma jest, I’ma Laugh
I’m this far away from the end of my thread
But I swear on the pain that I won’t let it end
For The years of torment, and the pains I couldn’t vent
You’ll feel till the end so just relax and repent
These verses are godsent, You fools better flinch, better **** in your pants.
And since birth, I’ve been cursed with this curse to just curse
And blurt this berserk and bizarre **** that works
And it helps in itself, it’s relief in the tension
That’s seepin’ through these sentences, stress in extension
That’s been eatin’ me recently off of my chest
And I still can’t even rest peacefully
No patience is in me, and if you offend me
I'm liftin' you ten feet in the air
I don't care who was there and who saw me, just jaw you
Go call you a lawyer, file you a lawsuit
I'll smile in the courtroom, and buy you a wardrobe
I'm tired of all you
I don't mean to be mean
But that's all I can be, it's just me
And I am whatever you think I’m not
If I wasn’t then why would I say I’m not
In the paper, the news everyday’s a ****
Everything I’m not made me everything I’m
-Asher Graves
May 3, 2025
May 3, 2025 at 8:15 PM UTC
I hate my memory but check this connection....Asher = Antony Uptown = lovely boy in love = Girl likes other poet's poems, start spending time with him = angry boy begins to feel abandoned tries to talk to girl who's showing her new attraction = angry begins to argue want to talk on phone = pretty girl writes poem saying she logged out.
Now angry boy is jealous and furious and reads all ancient poets words. Angry tries to get old poet to IM as he pretends. Old poet tells the crazy broad these poems aren't for her. Angry boy can't get proof he needs of to prove to exgirlfriend" that new love is a liar, cheat and predator. Meantime ancient Mariner and pretty girl begin to get hate messages and a "warning" of impending doom and hurt from Astral. Old man and young Muse relate these weird messages to each other. Mature man writes to Astral telling him step off. Astral disappears and 24 hours later has filled "blood drained" pretty girl with lies making her believe old man only cheats and lust for more than her. All of this in little more than 2 weeks of growing feelings and talking all night every night. In weakened state she cannot see the sequence of events...nor motives for crushing her like this so she writes a players poem and begin to hate her friend. Old man cannot comprehend how this whole tale unfolded until he projects again...he used his third eye to find the stories first page. Jealousy caused angry boy to create a scenario since he's lost her heart to old man...if I can't have her he can't either thinks angry boy. plotting strategy to ruin old man's chances = knows unsure girl's fears = use these against her so he can't have her either = become ten women and create some crazy fiction to dethrone the champion of her hand.
Now I see motive for the lies to separate twin flame sensor. I see an impossible timeline to be the womanizer I'm accused of being. I see that the demise came about after the lies told to me meet with no response so Angry boy plays on her emotions to hopefully get regain....result is a good soul laying almost dead distraught destroyed and angry so into a shell she hides. Everybody losses here my love...can't you see what I see. Look at the timeframe to see the same movie and drama I can see. But pretty girl won't even give okm man the time of day....I guess I must bow out...young Asher wins again.
Sep 25, 2018
Sep 25, 2018 at 12:02 AM UTC
Youth—epitome of experience and extremes.
You fall, you seek, you cry, you scream.
You slow down, begin to see the seams—
A vast world quietly opens to you.
You notice the meaning behind the semblance,
And the silence that slowly leaks through.
You finally get the answers you long pursued:
For frustration’s weight, for storms you never understood—
The unexplainable quarrels, the anxious moods.
And at last, you reach the solace you once dreamed.
But—
It’s not the end. It’s not the cure.
This is nowhere close to all your angst, your ache.
“To live is to suffer”—a belief we often mistake.
To live is, was, and always will be to seek—
To validate the silence buried deep beneath.
To let go of the nagging thoughts,
The voice that creeps, claws, and speaks.
Only the brave can release that grip.
It was never meant to be easy—
That’s why it clings,
But trust the process.
You’ll hear the silence—full and complete.
Once you’ve let go of that voice,
That essence of shadow,
No more doubt, no more need to borrow—
You’ll find the peace you sought
Beneath the drought of noise
That once left you hollow.
Yes, I know your agony, your sorrows.
But brave warrior, you’ve found it at last—
The real you,
Untainted.
Unburdened.
Unbound.
-Asher Graves
Apr 14, 2025
Apr 14, 2025 at 9:45 AM UTC
Love is love
it's not a puppy love feeling for Eli and Alex
it's not pretending to be someone else for John or some other guy
it's not a fairy-tale ending with Lucas and Asher either
it's just love
May 28, 2014
May 28, 2014 at 8:41 PM UTC
mostly read on the internet,
news, politics, all the rhetoric, yet
i have my favourites.
days that lack
deep concentration.
i mentioned earth &heaven.;
not asher lev.
it remains the same.
sbm.
Jun 22, 2016
Jun 22, 2016 at 12:18 AM UTC
Time and tide waits for none.
I wish I wasn’t so dumb.
I feel too much, but I can't handle even one.
I wish I was special, but that won't happen, son!
I wish I was perfect, but this fake pretense makes me succumb.
My body feels stiff, and I break a cold sweat.
I’m not afraid of people,
but my body says otherwise.
That gut-wrenching nausea whenever I leave my room.
That vexing sensation every time I sit to dine.
That suffocating lump in my throat every time I’m yelled at—it shines.
That teary eye every time I had to defend my lines.
I wish I could lead you to my mind.
I wish I could lead you to my mind.
The constant naggings and whispers.
The feeling of never being enough.
The existential dread.
I hate it all.
I hate it all.
Call it self-pity.
Call it self-victimizing.
And I won’t even call you out.
I’m just happy you don’t have to feel what I feel.
I’m just having a random crashout.
I mean, gotta do something, right?
For stayin’ alive?
I’m sorry, but I feel Nervous.
- Asher Graves
Jul 3, 2025
Jul 3, 2025 at 9:12 AM UTC
I got ways to go, believe me,
The coldest ever—anaemic.
Stripping down the vices,
And by that, I mean me, myself, and I, *****
The lord, call me your highness,
But don’t confuse me for the kindest.
Taking a stand isn’t the vilest—
Approach just like the golden touch, the Midas.
Reprimanding the bezoar,
Leavin’ all the poison behind us.
Close your eyes if you don’t want 'em to find us!
The God? I’m not Osiris.
I lack the means to guide us.
The path of the finest—
A fantasy, only to remind us
Of all the fallacies I sold to the crownless.
But what of the fellow deceased?
I mean the fellow seized!
The dreams of the unguarded,
The sin that we started,
To get us rewarded.
I killed the Open-Hearted,
Now dearly departed.
You reap what you sow—
Left me deep in the snow.
I peeked through the hole,
But there’s only me, the sole.
I staged a show,
To feel a little more,
But I never opened the door.
Now I see you no more.
You were sweet, a little slow—
Deserved love so much more.
But I lacked the gall,
And you took the fall.
I was built to protect you,
But you never left that little door.
Smiled a little more,
Should’ve hugged you some more.
Now echoes of silence haunt the floor.
You’re gone, and I see you no more.
I am to blame for this nuisance,
I am to blame for this rapture—
If only I didn’t fail to capture.
If I tripped, you too tripped—
Brother, we were trippin’.
I took a hit, felt sick, should’ve listened.
Where’s my foresight? My vision?
Where’s my f**kin’ intuition?
To hell with my indecision—
Blinded by pride, deaf to collisions.
Never cared so much for religion.
But you were the dawn of this coalition.
Fruitful conviction,
So much to offer, a pondering decision.
Rage consumed me; I created diversion.
Hateful I got for not understanding your assertion.
You had the gusto, a remarkable vision—
But I doubted and embarked on evasion.
Cursed at my frustration,
But no one was there to listen.
I carried the mission,
Prying open wounds to find division.
But I didn’t see my mistake.
Argued and raged, thinking I’d escape.
I broke, woke—but still bore the same face.
Tried to retaliate,
But it was too late to recalibrate.
I over-narrate, couldn’t hesitate.
Thought anger was relief, never did validate.
So much arrogance I failed to navigate.
Kinda felt like Medusa—
A head (ahead) of snakes, my own accuser.
-Asher Graves
Apr 12, 2025
Apr 12, 2025 at 7:17 AM UTC
To hell with normalcy.
I'd rather be someone revolting.
It hurts?
That’s a fallacy.
You're a coward —
and that’s fear prompting.
Indeed, there are hierarchies.
And rebelling is... concerning.
Misusing the power to control the industry —
Rebounding on the surface;
it's redundant. It's taunting.
Amuse me!
What — you think this is fancy?
What's wrong with wanting something?
Just because some are powerless... it's raunchy?
Distrust directs the regime —
look, the balance is burning.
Excited to show them dreams —
flaunty.
Look at that smile.
Look at the face.
Full of surprise,
sharp with the gaze.
Oh! You're blushing.
Excuse me — my breaching tendency.
You're beautiful.
And shy.
That's... compelling.
I wish you'd stay that way.
But —
the farther we go,
the greater the dismay.
Subdue this malice.
Subtly play.
If you want the prize...
you gotta pave the way.
I hate it when you're bamboozled,
procrastinating as you sway.
Can't you just stop being a wuss?
Even forecasters have their days.
But in this dance of defiance...
let courage lead the way.
Shatter the chains of conformity.
Let authenticity — stay.
For in each rebellious heartbeat,
a revolution brews with a glaze.
Even a meek-looking fuzz
can become
a blasting,
blazing
wave.
-Asher Graves
May 22, 2025
May 22, 2025 at 6:25 AM UTC
a lone vagabond
adventuring through battlefield
on a crimson-lit night
-Asher Graves
Apr 16, 2025
Apr 16, 2025 at 10:52 AM UTC
I wonder what the pages I left hanging feel.
All of the things I promised I would write on it — gone just like that.
Does it still have the faith in me?
Will it ever be able to trust someone else if they found it?
I feel sorry for those pages,
but I do have a reason!
I may not be the best person there is,
but I do wish for every page to be finished —
pages full of words, proud and filled.
But if I were to deliberately finish one
just for the sake of finishing it —
won't that be unfair to the page?
Therefore, I made a painful decision:
to leave it unfinished!
Unfinished it may be, so,
but at least it will still have the essence of something meaningful.
I hope the page forgives me
for what I took away from it.
But I never had a better choice.
After all,
it is my fault.
-Asher Graves
Apr 17, 2025
Apr 17, 2025 at 11:50 AM UTC