"callings" poems
It's one of those days where I start thinking, "Did you ever love me?"
In all those times you said you did, is there at least one truth about it?
You turned your back to me and walked away
You
You are a coward
You did not face me when I called your name
All that I'm asking right now is for the truth about everything
Because if you really did love me, then why did you leave?
And I know you're going to fight with the saying that goes, "If you love something, let it go"
But I think that's ******** I'm going to fight back with the words, "If it comes back, it's yours"
I'm coming back
Can't you see?
I'm still here
And it aches to know that you choose to ignore all my callings
I have stoop down so low at your level,
that I am probably in hell
I kept on calling your name like a child who've lost its mother
But you are nothing like her
You
You are like my father
Now I'm asking myself, "Is it time to move on?"
I'm slowly losing my dignity
Well, congratulations
You won
Isn't that what you wanted this whole time?
You're just waiting for me to break down on my knees
Well, here I am
Down on my knees and begging you, "Please..."
But just like what my father did a couple of years ago
You walked away again
Leaving me all broken...
Apr 30, 2016
Apr 30, 2016 at 4:21 AM UTC
When you’re accustomed to darkness
You’re used to monotony
You’re used to redundance
You’re used to nothing
You hear of the outside world
You hear of its joys
You hear of its wonders
You hear of its plights
“Come on out” they say
“We won’t hurt you”
Little callings to show you something new
Or is it just to hurt me?
“What are friends? Do they bite?
Is it edible? Is it necessary?”
Questions I’m asking to seemingly no one
But a voice keeps beckoning to me
“Come out and see the wonders you miss
The energy of human beings
The warmth of the sun
The beauty of the world”
I’ve never been enticed this much before
Closer and closer do I inch out
My mind is saying “this is a bad idea”
My gut is saying “can’t hurt to try”
So.. I’m finally out
This isn’t so bad
I could get used to thi—
honk crash
Nov 27, 2014
Nov 27, 2014 at 10:57 AM UTC
Do not shy away
From expressing your feelings
For they are true callings
From the heart waiting for audience
Samaritans are there
In the realm of your positive vibes
Your plea shall reach
Waiting to congregate at the place
Where all souls shall meet
Exchanging each other’s feelings
Emphatic chants of happiness
Shall reverberate everywhere
Outside your realm
True callings will impact the hearts
Which have forgotten to empathize
Mar 24, 2015
Mar 24, 2015 at 7:33 AM UTC
Love is a captured moment
A song in tune
A sound in silence
A crystal so pure
Love is a boosted hearbeat
A thousand callings
violet roses are blue
For the "Te Amo" you wanted so true
Aug 28, 2016
Aug 28, 2016 at 9:18 PM UTC
Unheard goes the inner voice
Influenced by so many callings
Grandiloquent words
Shimmering with enticement
Inherent power becomes feeble
Pulled in different directions
You may not want to tread
Jan 27, 2015
Jan 27, 2015 at 10:35 AM UTC
romantic callings
spanish bayonet
dagger plant
adams needles
jealously guarding
with expansive labor
a plant nurturing
most startling to find
new life
from adjoining steps in
unbroken broken ladder
rocks then plants
animals finally us
dedicated partnership
from evolution's mist
simple pollen deliveries
flower unto flower
cells and eggs
carefully enjoined
in pistil cradle womb
symbiosis of light
awaiting birth of spring
plant and animal
mutually interrelating
humble
and most hidden
might we extract
insight for our time
nurturing our awareness
expanding sacred ladder
one spiritual step
recognizing now clearly
ladder becoming whole
guarding still nurturing
welcoming spring light
emulating and repeating
a yucca mother's pattern
stupendous birthing
young yuccamoths
her amazing
our enlightening
brood
(with appreciation for genesis 2:15,
and for advice from a real life
yucca momma)
May 16, 2012
May 16, 2012 at 6:14 PM UTC
The tourists all jostle for a look at the falls
At the point where the water just drops
It goes over the edge, crashing down far below
And then it's all over, it just stops
But, further up river before the falls are in sight
Where the river's hypnotic, dull and oh, so boring
The dark voices are waiting, hiding and calling
This is the place that the powers are storing
Beware the dark voices
They come and they go
They infect your mind
You've heard them, you know
The dark voices are different
But, they always are there
Turn away from their callings
And as always....beware
A dark, gloomy bar on the wrong side of town
Where the waitresses all dance for their tips
A strip joint so defined, but really not so
This is where one's morality slips
A sniff of a perfume, so fragrant yet cheap
Blurs your connection to the ring on your hand
The dark voices are calling, telling you things
Get the waitress and prove you're a man
Beware the dark voices
They come and they go
They infect your mind
You've heard them, you know
The dark voices are different
But, they always are there
Turn away from their callings
And as always....beware
You've returned from a movie, back to your home
You must now take the babysitter back
Your wife stays home waiting for your return
But, with the babysitter you kind of lose track
You see a young body, and a glimpse of her breast
She crosses her legs, but you don't look that far
You share idle chatter, as you flirt like a kid
And you take the girl to the back seat of the car
Beware the dark voices
They come and they go
They infect your mind
You've heard them, you know
The dark voices are different
But, they always are there
Turn away from their callings
And as always....beware
The voices keep coming, just block them out
They feed on your weakness and pain
You have to ignore their pleadings to break down
For nothing good comes of them, there's nothing to gain
Jump in the water, go over the falls
Go with the dancer, surrender your life
Lay down with the baby sitter
Feel the voices twist the knife
Beware the dark voices
They come and they go
They infect your mind
You've heard them, you know
The dark voices are different
But, they always are there
Turn away from their callings
And as always....beware
Feb 16, 2013
Feb 16, 2013 at 8:55 AM UTC
In eighty four,
when I was eighteen.
I joined the Navy,
so proud and so lean.
First day aboard,
my ship I laid footed.
An accident happened,
this guy was beheaded.
I witnessed it all,
a faint scream, now gone.
Blood everywhere,
I was shocked in stone.
Life is but different,
floating on the sea.
But darkness still lurks,
coming out of the deep.
They called it traditions,
it brought back my past.
The name callings, the torture,
How long will it last?
Hours turns days,
days into years.
Counting my time,
holding back tears.
We had risen the Shield,
another accident happened,
lost twenty one shipmates,
Never forgotten.
At one in the 'morn,
the ferry went down.
In the Bay of Haifa,
twenty one did drown.
They finally came home,
in a flag draped box,
Hearing taps on corner,
Home but not lost.
My demons continue,
to many deaf ear,
bring sadness and sorrow,
bring heartache and tears
One final vision,
that I can not erase.
my friend screamed horror
and the look on his face
The wheel of an aircraft,
rolled over his femur,
crushing and smashing,
Lost in a fever.
Blood and bones,
I'll never forget.
His piercing screams,
still gets me upset.
Twenty long years,
I lived on the sea.
Lost many great men
and their pain is still with me.
Onto my next step,
But what do I do?
These demons keep chasing me,
Can I **** them off too?
Oct 2, 2014
Oct 2, 2014 at 11:24 AM UTC
***"To all the fallen Kids, Heroes and Sheroes that fell victim to the massacre of June 16 1960, Sharpeville, Soweto…
Callings for new Seeds and Haloes, we pray for new Victors and Messiahs…coz still we ask “So where to?”***
Worthy knowledge deserves the one who will acknowledge, it found another, he was in shortage, threatened, he found joy in carnage.
Retaliation turned sour, as we shed tears for fallen heroes. Rest in peace to all the Petersens, the Malcolms and the Bikos.
Great minds edify and think beyond limits and sky.
This systematic routine of life laced with politics and economy infiltrates us numb, living in a liberated space and yet at times feeling so dumb.
To equip oneself with the truth, the past, broadens the mind with a quality that will seize to last.
A continent, must be God’s definition of art, beautifully authentic ancient dark civilization…envy must’ve burned the heart.
Propaganda made victims, a disease intended to chronic; now all that’s seen is reversed conscious, invincible and sonic.
Pride is you, continent, head up, chest up, we becoming confident. Mother of the soil shining naturally yet shining somewhat redundancy.
Reconciliation over retribution, an astounding virtue, still forging a social democracy.
Peace will be hard to find in this pandemonium world.
True healing comes from divine providence, I was told.
Male and female, human beings, we need to perceive each other like nature, true identity knows no stranger.
Jun 13, 2014
Jun 13, 2014 at 8:24 AM UTC
A warmth passed through photons
From thousands of miles away,
A warmth passed through my heart
From connections to my brain,
You give me that same warmth
As the Sun gives in full brightness,
And so I hope you'll forgive me
When I express my blindness,
There's more to me than seems
To meet your eyes my gorgeous friend,
I long for you to truly see what
I can bring to lend,
A steady hand, a steady heart,
A faithful pair of eyes,
I wish most that you consider
That none of this is lies
Changing beyond belief
My faith, my heart and my desires
Like some inch worm with too much food
I metamorphosize
Into a better man I grow
With every breath I take,
I wish to express to you "Love",
In my lungs I build strength
To take the steps I need to take
And fight what holds me back,
I need to fight any callings and
Stay on the right track,
I can do it if I have the support
I need, okay?
So please, for now, give me the leeway to find my own way.
I'm not a missionary though
I know I'm a good guy,
And it is this very thought which keeps
Me awake at night,
I hope and know I'm good enough,
To at least attempt your presence,
So feel no fear when we speak please
if you are feeling hesitant,
I'll do my best to not scare you
And rush this large decision,
And if you say "No," that's okay,
No hurt will come from fission
So take your time and when you feel
A choice is at a close,
Let me hear what you have to say
Because
Who really knows.
Feb 3, 2016
Feb 3, 2016 at 7:22 AM UTC
this perpetual pattern. a thousand spreadsheets of the thing, draped unceremoniously about the furnishings of my mind. digits and symbols tapped into a machine to keep every schtick continually whirring. rare concessions of dumbfounded dazzle, no time or place for wonder. untidy notes, impure thoughts, callings from the mud--the whole deal, and yet i still hold my fancies. with careful introductions i can shut the monster down. it has dreams of its own, collected in dust, and when the time comes to sit out defeat they unfold in my lap like grotesque paper flowers
Apr 28, 2013
Apr 28, 2013 at 5:37 PM UTC
A blinding reflection
of the sun’s light shot
like lightening flares crashing
against glass towers
turquoise blue drawings
of the sky in structures
with angles and boundaries
climbing high as its
architecture would allow,
thrilled by the terror
of getting right
to the edge
and looking down
was my first step
towards freedom;
towards a tiny movement
in a no fly zone
bent by dreams, purposes
and meanings
now those peregrine callings
and two flying together
are becoming human,
lit with discernment
of a third eye
and an aerial view
I step off the edge,
headed east
into the morning sun
like the hauntingly beautiful
songs of French monasteries
I see clearly,
I am strong
and my body can only rise
Sep 16, 2013
Sep 16, 2013 at 3:41 PM UTC
Everyone I’ve ever talked to has said they’ve held hands with ghosts at one point in time. That’s why it’s so easy for me to tell you, I don’t sleep at night because I’m haunted. Neighborhood kids don’t even come around me no more and if you walk to my door you’ll be so thankful that it’s closed because if the outside looks like hell, you might want a ghosts hand to hold if you want to look in.
When this place first started to feel haunted I didn’t believe it till I walked outside and said to myself, “wow it looks like it too”. Every board holding me up feels like a memory and that broken window looks like a miracle. Something isn’t leaving this ghost heart and it’s the reason I’m barely alive with a barely connected ribcage.
She broke that window. She’s gone now but still around. It’s like she vanished into the ceiling only holding on to white balloons, telling her they were clouds, tricking her and taking her; a chunk out of my heart. I can hear her breathe when I turn my back, it doesn’t scare me I kinda like it. When it’s too quiet I hear her say “boo”. She drops glasses and picture frames reminding me of where I am. Rattle your chains and scream. I believe in you and I believe that this ghost heart is haunted too.
She had this tattoo of closed eyes reminding everyone she’s a dreamer. And when I’m dreaming I’m seeing her. Feelin’ her, the pressure on lips, have you any idea what it’s like? Ghost lips folding over mine? Well, it feels like it wasn’t even there. Though it looked real it’s just something some people still believe in. And I believe in a portrait I hung on my ghost heart because people were forgetting to look for it. As if it never really was there.
I don’t close them but my eyes are starting to play tricks on me. In a wispy white apparitional haze I see you. I abandon the idea of a ghost and just call you pure. But baby the truth is all in this manifestation. You’re the traditional ghost of my hollowed out soul. Necromancy I’ll speak to you. Hear me and if you heart me speak me into the callings of those who are no longer with me. Where are you? You haven’t been lurking within the walls of this house but rather in the veins of a ghost heart. Pumping your face into arteries. Haunting my beats. You follow me like a demon. I’ve never been a man of faith but that word means different things to different people. People need to have faith in the pulses of ghost hearts. I’m beating although you may not see it. I’m alive and you don’t believe it. I am haunted. By a beautiful ghost who lives in my disgusting ghost heart.
Feb 8, 2011
Feb 8, 2011 at 10:30 AM UTC
For meri Fatima Gul 💞
The world was alot
and i was alone
until you came
and took me along
you made me a king
you make me feel strong
I pray for you my queen
every night long
I was not much
But I was all I have
Now I have you
Best I will ever have
You care so much
You love so deep
It was your touch
that shook my soul
and brought me
to the truest love
and the purest one
Words won't ever suffice
For what you mean to me
In you I found
the real definitions
of peace, of love
of life, of purity
in you my Gul
I see everything
that's beautiful
You're the home
to my wandering soul
you're the echo
to those callings
of mine that
I yearned to hear
You're the poem
my hands longed
to write down
You the dream
I always wanted to live
You're everything
that my soul
could ever wish for
I love you
with all my heart
and all my soul
and all the love
and all my life
meri Fatima Gul
You're beautiful
~Your Muhammad Ali
Aug 19,2021
Aug 30, 2021
Aug 30, 2021 at 12:40 AM UTC
Moon callings spirited animals
wolves dancing
Dunhuang lute guitar -
playing to the soul of
a western screech owl
feasting on prey - long tailed shrew.
Gaspé mountains sheltered selves
under moonlight the coven amass
crisp autumn leaves, frost bitten toes
North standing
Novembers Mourning Moon.
Worshipping Isis -
Goddess of magic
the white tailed deer appears
shedding antlers amidst
this monthly Esbat rite.
At the alter a moon candle glowing
water bowl reflecting sisters souls,
white crystals & silver ribbons -
graced lunar symbols
to cede full renunciation.
*Gather gather as all women should,
the next Supreme is not beyond a dream.
The Witches Council meets beneath moonlight.
Tonight I light this candle,
& lift a water bowl to the night sky.
I call upon you all.
I call upon you all.
I call upon you all -
to accept the changing of your souls,
akin to the changes of the tide.
We cleanse our souls in unity.
Tonight, tonight, witches of Salem,
declare yourself...
Declare yourself!
The Supreme Witch - declare yourself.*
They fall to the cold slabs
ground, gravel, leaves, soil
silence falls.
One remains - the embodiment of all gifts
the One remains for eternal life against all ills.
The Supreme is named.
All women rise
dawn breaks
and the passing of the moon begins it's journey
passing into the suns glare -
unseen.
© Sia Jane
Nov 13, 2014
Nov 13, 2014 at 1:30 AM UTC
The salesman
I made you mine in compliance corpse,
Your hanging on my line.
I know you've been fooled before,
But trust me one more time.
I know this call is frozen,
And my callings changing state,
You melt into my mellow tone,
The telephones mistakes.
I made my wage in vagueness,
The trust of open minds,
The devil stole my sold that day
And I'll pay for it in time.
Jan 29, 2016
Jan 29, 2016 at 11:12 PM UTC
Today
Today I saw nothing but blissness,
Covered up with clouds of video games and the exotic taste of Wi-Fi to lead me in the direction of blindness.
Today
Today I felt my thumb and index finger throb in exhilaration with just a teaspoon of rejuvenating pain.
Today I sat anxiously looking at the screen,
Running away from reality by re-creating a fantasy where I was the hero.
Today I ran away from this distasteful land.
Just like most people would.
Today I became an ignorant human being.
I followed the loud whispers of 'ignorance is bliss'
And for that I got the sweet serene kiss of nothingness.
Yes I admit today I was ignorant and I ran
Dodging and jumping, avoiding trouble in the forest of life.
After all there's only so much one can handle.
Responsibility called out to me and I pulled my get out of jail free card and I sat in front of the screen.
Envisioning a world like my video game.
Today I was ignorant
But not for long.
Leaving my sanctuary screen,
It was that time,
The time where my chores screens in "finish me, do me, it's about that time",
Reluctantly I stood, eyes fixated on the trash I had to take,
With a heavy sigh.
I listened to the callings of my chores.
Plastic in my hand filled with yesterday's food,
Today's cleanings and maybe a little bit of breakfast.
Stomping down the stairs,
Unaware of my surroundings,
As ignorance enveloped me in a tight hug.
Shucks I'm only human.
My last step down the stairs
My senses heishtened, the warm chill envading my legs,
Causing goosebumps to rise, along with my left brow.
"Am I not to be ignorant? Why do I feel the wind? " my mind searched
My ears picked with a cry from a girl.
But this was no ordinary cry.
A cry of happiness when a daughter sees her father
A cry of contentness of an adventure between a father and daughter.
My ignorance shattered after that.
There are fathers that stay and become the greatest of parents
They need appreciation too.
Because a father daughter bond is just as important as a mother daughter one.
Sep 6, 2016
Sep 6, 2016 at 5:09 AM UTC
Never forget a friendly face,
but with names, I always seem to fumble.
So many tribes and different callings
in this concrete plastic jungle.
But sometimes people leave behind,
a common thread,
a word that's kind,
that resonates inside our minds,
its those folk that I need to find.
The varied ways we live our lives
shall always find a port of call,
see there's so many souls that shine,
and then there are the ones that fall.
Between the cracks, between the creases,
those uncomfortable places where hope sings
are never tempered without reason,
this is just the way it seems.
Yes this is just the way it seems,
all living with awoken dreams.
Yes this is just the way it seems,
for life is but a pebbled stream.
This is just the way it seems.
Apr 20, 2014
Apr 20, 2014 at 7:25 PM UTC
motions rigid, actions unspoken
breathing intensified, darkness blackened
bodies unseen, unforgiving hands travel
passionate candles dance to the rhythm of the newborn beat
secretive longings, lusting scenarios
whispered callings, stimulated beings
sparks ignited, rigid loving
beings become intertwined instantly once the opportunity arises
sensual kisses, playful bites
scratches unobtainable, shivers unintentional
pulses quicken, thrusts intensify
smiles widen while moans roar to escape the overwhelmed being
moments freeze, emotions boil
blood churns, shivers spread
amazement portrayed, ****** ceases
Oct 21, 2014
Oct 21, 2014 at 8:29 PM UTC
yellow nights and bluebells
puddles of water, deeper pools than
the constant lake we muddled through
sunbeams always as bright as possible
torrential downpours of Zeus’s callings
ever enchanted we watch as she follows
curiosity growing;
a wiggle in the wet!
an earthquake of micro proportions
she, a young god, watches diligent
blank features, and the anticipation-
He’s here; creeping along, thick fingers reflect
drops of water and mud encasing small paws
Grabbed!
He is here
but not for long, she
a shriek of young birdsong
reverberates loud enough to break
the melody of a rainy afternoon
each drop sings
Nov 6, 2017
Nov 6, 2017 at 12:31 PM UTC
Oh you were small
But a heart did swell for the
Yes hands reached up
Grasping away at me
With eyes
Obscure and wide
I felt my cheeks burn with pride
Something like a summer day
When the fresh smell of rain
Whisked us away
And the brilliant blessing from God
Was to blame
It was hectic as I approached the fray
Ohh battle
War
Love grenades
Bursting around the doors
Eroding in my soul
Forcing the walls
To fall
It was hectic
The fray
But it was a beautiful day
Cries were heard
And love was made
Callings of God
Were prayed
As a push
And a shove
Brought about an angel from above
Oh you were small
Tiny infant
Who knew it all
As my heart swelled for the
Yes hands reached up
Grasping away
Hands awkward and free
With hair
Soft as deer skin
Your mother slept heavily
After caressing you out
From within
Little joy
Aug 24, 2012
Aug 24, 2012 at 2:05 AM UTC
Sweaty palms
Long distance calls
Looming nervous presence
Bouncing mania
Preemptive dreams
Persuasion
Inadequacy
Salty tounges
Squealing
Subtle disproval
Financial discorse
Flamboyant pandering
Off-balance pulls
Compromised callings
Charismatic turmoil
Jun 7, 2019
Jun 7, 2019 at 11:58 PM UTC
The Dead Man’s Waltz
Put down my suitcase and strap my arm in that chain.
I’ll grab the spoon of cooked candy,
Whose juices run from the silver
to the syringe
into my Red Sea.
Moses isn’t here to part the waters.
Candy stands tall, her toes lining the prickly end
She’s about to plunge, dive into the stream.
I give her a push, let her in
Familiarity. Relief. Euphoria.
Ah—
My head weighs me down, it
Falls slowly, magnetized to the white rug.
The room spins and my vision
Spins back.
I see blurs of faded faces I don’t even care about
Don’t care about anything, really
Except how **** great my mind and body feel, tingling.
Words can never really describe this feeling.
Oh, but they try
They do try
I try.
And yet—
I’m speechless.
Utterly speechless,
Unconscious on this ***** excuse of a carpet.
How did I get here?
Rather, why can’t I live up to known callings?
Now I only dream of past roles,
Roles once pure that are now washed away.
I fear.
The let-down leader shouldn’t be left questioning what’s right.
But here I lay. A troubled sheep
Who knows the way
And yet—
Where is the gatekeeper of truth?
Because I’d like a word.
With that, the Earth brings me a
thin gold stream, radiating from the ceiling
so bright, so pulling, surreal.
Reach out my hand and feel it shaking
Its droning siren sounds louder and louder, the light
Reels me in from inside,
I squeeze my eyes shut, turn and retreat
Back to the pillow.
I’m not ready to confront it.
Like a false light, trick candle,
It might not have taken me then—
Bad spirit’ll seize me one day,
And I still don’t know if I’ll be ready.
I digest the bedroom happenings—
Turn to the bedside, whip out my suitcase.
Go back to what feels good,
Let’s take another swim.
Skinny-dipping. I go through the known drill
No wonder so many people get caught up in this,
Abusive love affairs with Candy.
My last dance with dope.
Feb 26, 2012
Feb 26, 2012 at 7:25 PM UTC
Hello there, long lost friend!Your soul is quick to embraceBut your eyebrows are hesitantNonchalant, but entirely too awareOf the time that has passed.You've grown out of rompers and jumpersAnd long ago lost your innocence,Running from quick candlefireAnd buffalo callings-round a nightlight.Is it that time already?To worry about loan repayments and language disorders?One more night, day, hour, summer,To roam in search of fireflys,Pitter pats, and knee high adventures.
Feb 21, 2010
Feb 21, 2010 at 10:50 AM UTC
The proverbial
Better jump down a manhole light yourself a candle
Plays away at sensory deprivation
As soon as shadows dance around the wall
Well, a modern day cave
Such as the ones prophets receive their callings from God in
I suppose it only means
Truth lurks in the subterranean
Dec 31, 2013
Dec 31, 2013 at 11:31 AM UTC