"assisting" poems
1058
Bloom—is Result—to meet a Flower
And casually glance
Would scarcely cause one to suspect
The minor Circumstance
Assisting in the Bright Affair
So intricately done
Then offered as a Butterfly
To the Meridian—
To pack the Bud—oppose the Worm—
Obtain its right of Dew—
Adjust the Heat—elude the Wind—
Escape the prowling Bee
Great Nature not to disappoint
Awaiting Her that Day—
To be a Flower, is profound
Responsibility—
46.9k
I see her often ....struggling all alone.
A diaper bag, pocketbook and the baby.
The look of distress on her face as she pushes the stroller home.
She raises her child all by herself.
Her pockets are not overflowing ....which means she's lacking wealth.
She shuffles off to work each day.
She's wondering when they will increase the dollars in her pay.
Single mom to some, Superwoman to her kids.....no regrets, it is what it is.
How I admire her strength and drive.
She's strong during the day, but at night she cries.
This is not the way it was supposed to be.
My child should be seeing double not just me.
Her mind is steady racing, but this is not a race.
The thought started here and now it's in a different place.
The sacrifices and staying up late when her child is sick.
She's snapping pictures at Christmas time as her daughter opens presents left by jolly ole Saint Nick.
She's thankful for this precious jewel that she must shape and shine.
Smiling as she puts her child to bed, because she has to be at work by nine.
There's always something to be done, so there's not much time to sit.
This is a full time job and one which she can't quit.
The cooking, the cleaning and washing clothes,
she's looking for some tissues so she can wipe a runny nose.
She thinks she's a single mom, but that's not entirely true.
The Lord is guiding and assisting ....pulling her through.
Keep your head up and don't let anyone or anything bring you down.
A queen's crown belongs on her head.....not upon the ground.
A dedication to the single mother's........Thank you for all that you do and have done.
Oct 7, 2012
Oct 7, 2012 at 1:07 PM UTC
I want my cake and ice cream too.
Who wants to blow out a candle?
When there is no food.
I wants to do the things that kids usually do.
Blow out the candles and spread ferms too.
Hey, we kids.
And you know they assisting me too.
Camera snapping.
Kids clapping.
Cause the ice cream and cake is about to be cut.
While adults are playfully laughing.
Sep 24, 2012
Sep 24, 2012 at 9:19 AM UTC
as an astronaut, I spun on a rotary around the core of your existence like
you were the gravity that held me to the ground but kept me on my toes
if home is where the heart is, i'm coping with this unbearable homesickness
and I know my heart has an anarchy government, living a steel toed rebellion
but these relentless thoughts about you have gotten bad again, i don't sleep
my reckless behavior let loose, like a dog off his chain and collar and i
revisited the places you always talked about, how i dreamed to be there
with you recovering those lost feelings, and rebellion was assisting me
in the mind of my teenage angst, no autobiographies could be more
authentic than the hatred for this unrequited swelling i held in my heart
without a doubt, you're featured in my dreams more than nightmares
you couldn't be more real than the books that I hold in my hands
i'm sleeping in water filled with sharks calling me a tedious terrorist
entering their territory, leaving me with absolutely nothing
just build a bridge, get over it, if you have to, revisit my mind
maybe you'll see everyone is the enemy, not everyone is perfect
-kra
Nov 11, 2013
Nov 11, 2013 at 10:16 PM UTC
We are not alone,
One broken heart
Does not cry,
Without others crying
Along beside it.
One heart,
Does not shatter
Into a million pieces,
Without the help of others
Putting it back together.
One life,
Does not move on
By itself
Without the help,
Of another assisting in its recovery.
Apr 22, 2013
Apr 22, 2013 at 11:41 AM UTC
Someone asked me,
Who is a teacher?
A pathway to degree?
Or holds a position deeper!
‘Union of multiple roles’, I said,
Is a teacher’s true identity;
One who enlightens the road ahead,
Assisting selflessly which is a rarity.
Playing a huge role in our upbringing,
And giving us a constant support;
Teachers were there motivating,
In the times we felt lost.
They teach us the art of life;
Losing sleep for other’s child,
New and innovative ways they devise;
It is incomparable what they provide.
The ones who are always well-wishing
Steering to right path and escorting;
They instill a passion for learning,
Student’s success is their earning.
Sep 5, 2020
Sep 5, 2020 at 1:23 PM UTC
She spends most of her days in doldrums,
always segregated from the whole crowd.
Everyone uses her acts and games against her.
It seemed like a game and they liked it.
But now it is toture,
she is being bullied
she fears coming to school,
she fails to catch some sleep at now,
their words keep ringing in her ears at night.
Today in the morning it was her shoe lace,
after assisting them
the only thanks they give is by making her feel misrable.
Now this afternoon she is crying,
and it all seems like a joke to them.
"Nomathemba help me with Accounting !"
they call out everyday.
After her help they become ironic,
"she is a distinction student".
They make her feel belittled.
"Dont worry you will be Accountant one day...
Because Accountants are greedy too"
i am not willing to support them,
their games are surely bad.
She fails to laugh,
nor smile,
her heart filled with pain.
She is a victim of emotional abuse,
and am the only one who seems to care.
What happened to the unity amongst us?
Sep 29, 2015
Sep 29, 2015 at 8:08 AM UTC
It was in total a fast track ticket to the moon
and I can't return to transaction dock 8 too soon
the star checkout lane at my local supermarket
tops balloons with rocket science aeronautics
that pilot's service areas binary counter perfect
exceeding expectations bent into global orbit
My items sped along to muzak her slim milky way belt
a smile beaming discount countdowns heaven sent
taking off in bit lips when her priceless item buttons
almost burst free to air with a strain of special promotions
helpfully assisting my every excess flight of fancy
made impulse buys a baggage allowance necessity
She stroked parts of her radical laser station
to fully engage hygienic wiped spills of imagination
and I felt the warp of hyperdrive tangelo engines
urging me into a dive to scan juice ripe tangerines
a last minute save fuelled by stalling flashback cavities
gyrating in tight nets as we escaped earth's gravity
With a twist of her wrist I was into fits-the-bill ecstasy
as the whirr of electronics cut loose such quality
with a lick of an index finger our mission was bagged
handled too efficiently for any danger of jet lag
no flyby chance to not exchange standby coupons
my trolley emptied of offers too galactic to pass on
Jul 7, 2014
Jul 7, 2014 at 12:52 AM UTC
I am an altar boy inside the Church of
Continuous Wasted Opportunities.
Smell that pungent incense?
It is most definitely all that it seems to be.
This God’s gift to mankind is what the three
wise men were really trafficking—bringing
forth a dank Exodus unto the Savior’s parents.
They didn’t inhale the serpent’s lure, of course.
Rejoice, one and all, across the land!
Hallelujah, all ye indigo children of the desert!
Now, a reading from the Book of Wardo,
verse four, passage twenty:
“And it was told that the ancient Aryana region would
offer up such magical wonderment, derived from the
sacred Kush bush, assisting the holiest disciples who
prefer a mystically passive respite—for these blessed
aficionados represent the completely frazzled and yet
cautiously chosen few.”
Jul 26, 2014
Jul 26, 2014 at 4:46 PM UTC
what's crazy
is that when you look at me
my mind goes into overdrive
and I imagine every single fantasy
us on the beach together,
Me and you laid out on the sand
I grab your waist and kiss you
while you guide my wandering hand
I slowly kiss and caress your neck
biting softly and holding you close
I feel you running your hands up my back
assisting me in getting out of my clothes
the bonfire we had has long since died out
but another one starts within
our passion and lust blazing bright
as you command me inside, within.
We both ****** simultaneously
almost as if instantaneously
we knew when our bodies could take no more
it's like my mind is an open door
when you look at me with those deep eyes
I become lustfully hypnotized
Dec 14, 2014
Dec 14, 2014 at 7:30 PM UTC
Strange, then maybe it's me.
All these kiss-up politicians in commercials against sanctuary cities.
Remind you they wouldn't assist anyone in need.
Probably wouldn't offer them food or clothes.
Really!-probably not a thing.
Many would have instantly supported that ****** dictator in his conquest.
And left many concentration victims in camps.
We, required to help those seeking protection.
Not attack them because of their heritage or skin color.
But notice highly with a truth that many ministers hide instead of assisting those they need to be trying to recruit.
Scriptures, states the poor shall inherit the earth.
Nothing at all about the successful.
Jul 29, 2018
Jul 29, 2018 at 9:23 PM UTC
The cauldron bubbles and sputters and pops.
Odors from a foul witches' brew
Fill the mansion. It's called the Nightmare
On Pennsylvania Avenue.
A ghoulish warlock babbles gibberish,
Spreading deceit, anger, and fear.
He summons his lackey ghouls to his chamber.
They bow to the ghastly profiteer.
Their incantations reverberate
Through the rooms and down the halls.
The din stifles the voices of reason
And bounces off the windows and walls.
Witches assisting the grisly assembly
Grovel and spew nonsensical chatter,
While friendly ghosts, horrified,
Grab all their belongings and scatter.
The leading warlock raises his staff
To silence all the ear-piercing shrieking.
"Our work here has barely begun,"
He shouts, "in a manner of speaking.
"We have a lot more poison to spread
To circulate anxiety and doubt.
All we must do is stir the ***
To give them something to worry about.
"Fan the flames of division and discord.
My techniques are tried and true.
Keep 'em guessing; then you've got 'em.
And then you cater to the chosen few.
"We have more rivers to poison,
Coastlines to alter, lands to sell,
Coffers to fill, coffers to rob,
And voices to quiet. Welcome to hell!"
The glowering sycophants dance and cheer--
Thirsty for blood, eyes agleam.
"Dishonesty is the best
Policy," they fervently scream.
Oh, it's a frightening Halloween night
When one's worst nightmare comes true:
The gruesome, macabre, spine-chilling Nightmare
On Pennsylvania Avenue.
-by Bob B (10-31-18)
Oct 31, 2018
Oct 31, 2018 at 9:53 AM UTC
Many people remind us of the Lord.
They venture into places we dare not go.
It might be the ghetto or the wealthy side of town.
Where pretense is in the people you know?
They have the heart of the Good Samaritans.
Where assisting those in need?
Is there only agenda.
They mean no harm.
And many never seem alarm.
But more comfortable.
It's been stated many of us live in a comfort zone.
Surrounded by security from the real sociaty.
Where fear controls your every move?
These brave souls acts on reaction.
Always seeking a satifaction to the crisis.
They have the heart of a Good Samaritan.
Emergency Technicians.
They have the heart of a Good Samaritan.
Fire personnel.
They have the heart of a Good Samaritan.
Law enforcement.
They have the heart of a Good Samaritan.
Counselors, charity workers.
They have the heart of a Good Samaritan.
All honorable soldiers.
They have the heart of a Good Samaritan.
And brave parents.
They have the heart of a Good Samaritan.
Especially when we see them stand up to those trying to be mean.
When others would avoid getting involved.
We must remember there are those that honorable in the eyes of God.
When people with titles refuses to fight.
They need to remember they walking in darkness instead of the light.
Comfortable in doing wrong.
Instead of doing right.
Apr 12, 2013
Apr 12, 2013 at 8:17 AM UTC
What is the meaning of existence?
existing only by another's assistance
assisting you to go the distance
distancing you from life's persistence
what is the meaning of creation?
creating a life long vacation
vacationing in the land of starvation
starving to let go of temptation
what is the meaning of conception?
conceiving our own deception
deceptive practice of perception
percieving the meaning of our inception
Dec 13, 2013
Dec 13, 2013 at 8:50 AM UTC
She dropped my heart
But, I'm still falling in love
(Of course, not with her because when she had it; it splattered)
Someone else gathered it
Scooped it
Knitted it
Tethered it
Right aside her own
Right where she felt it belonged
...On the left
Beating the same chest
Assisting the same breath
I breathe to keep her pleased
Because I didn't ask please
Yet, she dropped to her knees and raked up a potential disease
Rolled up my cuffs
Stuck it up my sleeves
Allowing me to huff and puff
Before I was crying and sighing
Fast talking and lying
Creeping in silence
Hurting, but disguising
I just wasn't able to see women as woman
Because I thought the world of girls
Only involved with the ones that's immature
Today I can adore
Ladies thats like
Unlike ******
Her caress is the cure
No patches
Nor scratches
Scar tissue
Pain or leaks
I'm worry free
Picture a surgeon, without the fee
A doctor who make their job personal
A dietitian that's proactive
She don't just attack the symptoms
A cardiologist who doesn't just study
She believe the functions of the heart is lovely
So she used the defibrillator
And it shocked me I didn't think I can feel so deep
So intense
So immense
Blissful
The same pulse is in my temples
Thriving through my brain
...I felt it first
Then I made up my mind
She the one who controls the ups and downs
... Of my life line
Dec 19, 2012
Dec 19, 2012 at 3:40 AM UTC
I am worn down, exhausted and depleted; tired of self.
I am torn down by the mediocrity of men and women that
cannot see the façade that blinds themselves and captures
their thinking, rendering them ineffective, therefore they lash out with
false perceptions, unwilling to embrace and acknowledge
the error that lies within their own garden of eden and deception locks
their tongues tightly choking out the very breath used to speak
hypocritically of others.
From the outside in I see myself standing in a crowded space
within “my being” and all of the chatter of endless voices critiquing
“the me inside of me” confuses and distorts my ability
to comprehend the distance and direction I should be traveling in.
I keep “bumping into myself many times over”
because self will not move out of my way
to allow me to gauge the time and distance it will take
to straighten my path.
I am stuck in the creases of my frown,
it being sometimes dark inside,
yet striving “upward” to a place of stability,
knowing that my end is “far yet to come”.
With instruments of humility leading me,
“something” within the interior of my mind
sands the walls of my thoughts down to clarity,
assisting me in an uncomplicated manner.
This allows me,
to perceive the portrait
of self, I have created, and
this complex dilemma I live in
forces me to embrace the contents of the “self perceived” reality around me,
making it easy…. and freely…for me
to “escape the abrasiveness” of the way
“I” see, ‘I” think about…and the way “I” judge myself
when it is not necessary…
©2013
Jul 31, 2013
Jul 31, 2013 at 6:32 AM UTC
Providing you survive the drive inside the suicide lane,
The inane objections of several secular seconds will both drive you insane and tame the frame of irrational sanity,
Which stripped away the man in me,
And grabbed my sleeve convincingly to lament the angry laugh of free...
Enterprise; do I comprise of many lies,
As you do?
A gift or prize; yes I surmise the former plays no voodoo.
Like the latter,
Piter pater, I ask exactly, "Do you,"
Truly
care
to know...
If existence is but chatter in a blankness with no matter,
And no welcome mat to meet the merry-minded Happy Hatter's
Dash to seek that ****** infatuation with the sadder shift of anger which,
Shook the sheets to show off that the banker is an actor,
Who washes
Shame
Away
In calm, hot showers.
What empowerment.
We underwent the chance event,
Which supplemented discontent with the rich and single one percent,
How kind it was of him to lend,
His hand,
For both of mine.
What malcontent.
We thought dissent would overthrow the circus tent,
Which represented forced consent with the oppressed by blissful fraudulence
Remaining 99 percent.
Peasants, plebeians, proletariat;
We poke the U.N. Secretariat,
To ask again,
"Are we there yet?"
"Are we there yet?"
And silence is how were always met.
We drop it, trust they won't forget,
About us, suffering cold sweats;
As we fear unwanted debt,
They won't forget,
They won't forget,
They won't forget
About us.
Yet competition takes it place,
And twists that sympathetic face,
To grab a poor man's knowledge base,
To ask him,
"What do
I gain
from assisting
The likes
Of you?"
The poor man bellows, "you're poor too!
Like those who can't afford shampoo.
You can't afford my point of view,
It risks a loss that's overdue,
And money makes you misconstrue,
Existence."
And if existence is but chatter in a blankness with no matter,
And no welcome mat to meet the merry-minded Happy Hatter's
Dash to seek that ****** infatuation with the sadder shift of anger which,
Shook the sheets to show off that the banker is an actor;
He forgot the human aspect should always be the biggest factor,
On his spreadsheets as he calculates productivity's next chapter;
What empowerment.
We underwent the chance event,
Which supplemented discontent with the rich and single one percent,
How kind it was of him to lend,
His hand,
For both of mine.
This isn't right.
I question fines,
And wonder, where's the kindness?
What happened to our kindred spirits?
Did we leave all that behind us?
Is money truly all we want,
And happiness put second?
The future is unwritten,
So follow me;
Expect resistance.
Oct 3, 2011
Oct 3, 2011 at 3:46 PM UTC
where would we be
without our community volunteers
those wonderful people
who are there in times of need
the blood donor
gives a pint of blood
to keep a soul alive
the only payment he takes
is a cup of tea and piece of cake
the carer
who looks after a neighbor
who has no relative around
to assist with showering
and household chores
the Lions Club member
out on the street collecting money
for a wheelchair
to be placed in a hospital ward
there are people
who've an altruistic bent
out in each of our communities
daily assisting others
if these people
didn't come forward
to offer a helping hand
for free
the community
would be the poorer
without their kind deeds
Dec 30, 2013
Dec 30, 2013 at 4:11 AM UTC
You love hearing.
You love seeing.
You love smelling.
You love feeling.
You even love the taste of life,
Bold statements arise: pentagon built pyramids; hexagram built light…
I’m speaking subtlety’s; the space between five and six,
Like that star David from CSI;
Eleven mirror, twelve depicts,
If they’re in prison, it was because of common sense,
If you’re successful, universe says you were dependent on the sixth…
We’ll acknowledge foundations as Gravity, Although they reflect;
Time as tragedy,
Too low to connect;
Space to one; a division within;
I’m thinking maybe this trinity could project a web,
Gravity is the outcome of manifestations existing;
Creativity transmuting energy that’s coexisting in a space in which polarities consisting,
Space is the frame that’s assisting;
A geometrical web full of light that infinitely splits simultaneously while it’s energy is shifting,
Time is the perception of distance between manifestations, it’s the same as predicting,
It doesn’t exist until it exists,
That’s a matter of apathetic wishing,
“He’s an oxymoron…”
We fear the unusual,
But we can’t possibly be normal,
That’s actually abnormal,
When we conform to others idealism, our realities become harmful,
Earlier I advocated that space is full,
If you’re pushing space in your own gravity, displacement will leave your mind full; time-poor,
Love yourself, because you love your five senses,
No need for senseless for it is why we sense-less before more,
That doesn’t mean closed door,
It means your time is poor;
How can you be of wealth if you’re missing idealism,
In such a situation you’re obligated to war;
Be informed, be young, belong life,
Disconform, keep ***** on your side,
Obliterate, reiterate, polarize,
You must know thyself before you know the sky.
Nov 28, 2018
Nov 28, 2018 at 7:36 PM UTC
Deep into the rainforest, a struggle to survive
From insects to leaved trees, wanting all to thrive
The habitat of animals, species all around
Living things a-plenty, crawling on the ground
The four main layers play a different role
The bio-diversity forms part of the whole
The dark forest floor and the understory
Shorter plants existing, many bugs to see
The vibrant middle layer, yet forms the canopy
Climbing the emergent, just like a monkey
The strong plant materials, helps to build a home
For people of the Amazon, food that has been grown
Tropical regions, Equator ever near
A moderate climate, giant trees are here
Forests on a mountain, misty all around
Coated in a moss, such an eerie surround
North and South America and Oceania
Asia and Europe, as well as Africa
There’s a cycle of life, yet deforestation
Affects the homes of animals for plantation
Removing ecosystems, can cause erosion
Droughts as well as flooding, less cohesion
The modern ways of man affects vegetation
Contributing to a silent devastation
Replanting, recycling, assisting with crops
Steps of preservation quench like raindrops
The precious seeds and life, of which can be found
Yet, it’s not too late to turn this world around
Written by Geraldine Taylor ©
Jun 14, 2017
Jun 14, 2017 at 12:36 PM UTC
I hide my face behind the makeup of a clown.
Not because I'm sad.
But because I like seeing people smile.
I work my magic constantly.
For even a hurt person needs a relief.
The world is made up of so much sadness.
When there's no need to be.
Reach out and help another.
And you'll find them assisting back.
I hid my face behind the makeup of a clown.
While knowing in the next town.
I'm still required to make a person smile.
To some.
I'm a welcoming of joy.
Turning a fright frown around.
Who wants to see a sad clown around?
Happy Gabby.
Or Sad Lappy.
Which one would you select?
Least when you are depressed.
Smile and watch people ask why?
Frown and watch people appears blue.
All because of your bad mood.
A clown gets laughter more.
When they try to make you smile for joy.
Jul 30, 2012
Jul 30, 2012 at 1:08 AM UTC
All these whinging intellectual poetic wankers,
scribbling Conditional Love "poems"that boringly
lament why they are such obvious failures
at the game of life and self realisation.
Spewing out weasel words of poetic hypocracy while
wrapped in navel gazing infantile emotions.
Writing degenerate untruthful words about a love
they'll never know or never have known,
as if unconditional love can be bought
at the local Walmart.
Voluntarily assisting the machinations of mind and groupmind,
since their birth into a lifetime of Conditioned Identity,
in the servitude of the Amerikan Oligarchy .
Strings of meaningless associated words,
lines of lies about life and love that are ever popular with "poets".
Starting with every one of the so-called "holy" books
from millennia past--calling for suicide bombers
and child killers to strut the world stage
spewing religious racism and sexism like enlightened beings..
After all words have NO SHAME
nor have poets..
Sin Verguensa.
Words have NO GUILT
nor have poets.
Words have NO EMBARASSMENT
nor have poets.
You cannot hide behind your lies from me.
I see you--I have nous.
Your beard is transparent.
Your unceasing lies deny to others information
to which they are entitled,
"poets" are the worst LIARS of all,
so easily spottable .
Read these pages--see for yourself,
through my eyes .
See the silly shit-fed children of the Amerikan Oligarchy,
wrapped in spangles and colours --posturing like super-heroes.
Vomiting verbal diahorea in lifes gutters,
appealing for just one more chance
to play at love and humiliation.
People with low IQs and lower morals
pretending ,as always, to be mature and human,
characters moulded like products of talk show hosts .
No integrity.
No truthfulness.
No honour.
No decency.
No morals except those learned from Readers Digest.
No to these escapees from the gallows of decency,
torture instruments dangling round their necks,
their prophet validated by being nailed and denied.
Jul 9, 2014
Jul 9, 2014 at 12:07 PM UTC
An orb of bright light,
Angels gathering around.
Bringing reassurance,
To lost souls in transition.
Assisting them to heaven.
Jun 14, 2014
Jun 14, 2014 at 3:13 PM UTC
I’m starting to feel
Less and less poetic
Like a part of me
Is slowly being drained
But not replaced
Hollow and shallow
I cannot not be a poet
For it has grown to be
A huge important part of me
Assisting in who I am
And what I want to be
But I already feel stranded
Far out in the sea
Jun 16, 2019
Jun 16, 2019 at 7:51 AM UTC