"christy" poems
Don’t cry for me
I’m not gone.
My soul is at rest,
My heart lives on.
Light a candle
For me to see
And hold on to
My memory.
But save your tears
For I’m still here
By your side
Through the years.
-Christy Ann Martine
May 14, 2019
May 14, 2019 at 12:26 AM UTC
(This verse is painted for my Loving Daughter P Suzanna Christy on her 8th birthday)
It was the day she began to move out,
She’d been in the cradle of her mother’s womb
Some seven years before silently in her dreams,
And her dreams! Who knows? But He knows.
Her mother, yea, yet to be a mother then!
Then in her travail, yet rejoicing in God’s Gift,
With her friend and neighbors close by she was wriggling.
Her father, yea, yet to be a father then!
Then in his journey, anxious, yet praying all the way,
None but the Father in Christ is beside him.
She reaches the eighth milestone of life,
How she hath reached is by His Mercy.
I remember the day of entry into the world,
She made a cry within and it was not heard unto us,
We could not know why she had cried within,
But we know for she had prayed within,
And now we’ve learnt that her first cry would be to Him.
Her mother’s friend took her in his arms,
And showered thousand kisses on her tiny forehead,
And it is he always the God-sent providence unto them.
Her mother rose from her anesthetic sleep,
And her every breath, it’s the fact, pronounced THANKS unto HIM.
She longed for her God’s Gift and took her in her arms of love.
I watched her imprinting kisses on the silky cheeks.
Every one wept and there were tears of joy,
I collected those tears in the deep of my heart.
She hath reached the eighth milestone of life:
She flutters as the dancing star in the sky,
Like the tiny trout in the running brook she plays,
Sweet like the ripe apple ‘midst the orchard,
‘cross the horizons of joy and laughter she traverses,
Dressed in the Blessings from Above,
She looks purple with floating frilled skirt,
She wears the smiles of her mother,
Filled with friendly wishes from her school mates,
She walks amidst the song of her little blooms.
I can’t hold her joy she experiences,
And so her mother shares it with her
And too with her for she hath carried my prayer in her womb.
She grows with the Heavenly Grace,
And does proclaim the Glory of Heaven in her life.
Now she’s a little plant to grow more flowers,
And every flower shall be the message of His Mercy
Dec 20, 2011
Dec 20, 2011 at 11:22 AM UTC
Dedicated To My Loving Daughter SUZANNA CHRISTY
On her 12th Birthday (08/09/2015)
Days rolled on; moments of time trotted; Waters changed shapes;
She walked with His Grace; smiled with His Mercy; grown with His Love.
Eleven nautical miles she hath crossed; might be twisted with ebbs and tides;
Yet His provident Arms have carried her in tender and glorious ways.
I see her seated on the banks of the stately throne with scepter of innocence,
My heart is thrilled with her mother’s heart of her child-like majesty
Envisaged across the firmament with the rainbow colours within.
Each of the rainbow shade dappled with Heaven’s Glory to glow.
I have drawn her in the sky of my fancy with figures of speech in colours,
She hath become a poem in my kingdom of poetry in pageantry.
We’ve been dreaming of her splendor glowing in His Presence
And pray unto Him no blemish shall taint her soul till the day.
My heart perceived sweet smiles on her lips translated from her within:
Every smile is His Blessing showered on her heart - gratitude to HIM.
We planted a garden and ‘ve grown the seed of godliness to grow like His Son,
Our hearts rejoice in the growth of the seed beside the sweet flow of His Love.
She hath grown through lightning, storms, showers and withstood with His Grace,
She’s been God’s Gift’ conferred on us late but in His time mystifying to mankind.
It hath been His Eternal episode that she ought to be in our arms crawl.
And God’s Gift is in His Image to grow in His Shade and fly under His Wings.
We are instruments to lead her in the way of Eternity, and her soul is precious to Him.
All have souls and all have Eternity, and have to choose His Son hung on the Cross;
Yet earthly affinity hath no role to play in His Kingdom, for He is Spirit,
And all His children ought to have His Image ever to reign in His Glory.
We perceive Truth of Eternity on her child-like countenance each day.
She hath stepped on the twelfth way of life and hath years to walk through.
Our prayer unto Him is His Providence be showered on her soul till the time.
She hath awakened us to share the Truth of Eternity in my simple verse.
Sep 15, 2015
Sep 15, 2015 at 5:24 AM UTC
The year I would turn nine
Charlie Kelly threw his pint over Paul Brennan
in the opening scenes of a new Irish drama
called Fair City. The 25th Dáil was dissolved.
Ireland got its 1st lotto millionaire.
There was talk of mining for gold in Mayo
and Christy O’Connor Jnr
won the Ryder Cup for Europe.
(Years later playing Trivial Pursuit
one of the questions wanted to know:
what profession gets the Ryder Cup? —
a cousin from Carlow answered; prostitutes.)
I was growing through 3rd class
St. Brendan’s National School; Loughrea —
on the other side of Tiananmen Square
another student stood up
as the Guildford Four walked free
after 14 years innocently incarcerated.
While in Germany, a wall
that had been built to divide: separate, fell.
Pushed over by people. While Hungry, Poland
and Czechoslovakia: all said: enough.
The Russians left Afghanistan and in South Africa
Apartheid began to crumble. Pity
it was allowed to even begin.
Iran was ****** off about some book
and on Christmas Day in Romania
Mr and Mrs Ceausescu were executed.
In 1989, the Church of Ireland allowed female priests.
96 people died at Hillsborough.
Haughey was Taoiseach,
Mr. Heaney was conferred
as Professor of Poetry at Oxford
and we qualified for Italia 90.
I was 9 and the only thing I remember
about that year; I fell out of a tree
and broke my arm.
Nov 7, 2010
Nov 7, 2010 at 11:53 AM UTC
To the boy in my German class who critizised me for picking a male name instead of a female one.
I wonder how your head will ****
When you see your best friend Joey
Become Johanna
I wonder how your jaw will drop
When you see your son
Beg to be bought a dress
I wonder how your ears will suffer
When your daughter
Shows up at your home with her girlfriend
I wonder if you will care
You called me crazy
My name is Dirk
My name is Gender Roles
If you are born a female
I come with
Flowers
I come with
Barbies and pink accessories
I come with pink kitchen sets
and doll hair brushes and fake makeup
I come with pink
I come with pink
I come with pink
I come with pink
I come in fusha
I come in burgandy
I come in lilac
I come in white
For the added package
I come with liposuction
and days without food
I come with too tight clothes
and more labels than you can count
I come with kitchen jokes
I come with being judged if you
had ***
or
Haven't
But wait there's more
If you are male
I come with toy trucks
And remote controls
I come with not crying
I come with blue *****
And Sunday football games
And rough housing and be a man
Be a man
Be a man
Be a man
Be a man
I come in Testosterone black
I come in beaten up blue
I come in Grades don't matter green
I come in what're you looking at white
For the added package
I come with teasing
Required gym time
Peer preasure
Don't cry
I come with straightness
And close minded friends
I come with video games
I come with make the money
Pay for dinner
Pay for movies
Pay for living
Pay for squirming
I come with physical torture
Critizised
For having ***
or
Not having ***
My name is Gender roles and I come in a school room
My name is Izzie and I'm alive
My name is Christy and I'm crying
My name is Dirk and I am satisfied
My name is Gender roles
Sep 19, 2012
Sep 19, 2012 at 7:52 PM UTC
Allan keeps forgetting that his knees are sacred
There is not always solace granted from the bodies he prays to
Neck craned howls for love
Some deity’s fingers running through his hair
Allen is not good looking
And he forgets that no one ever hated a man
Who wanted good things for other people
Forgets that true beauty lies in the hands
And is seen by what they do
Your hands are beautiful
She said,
They can buy someone coffee
When it’s cold
They can make people warm
They do more than his mouth can
They speak languages
Entire languages
In the 7th grade
Christy Turtch slapped him once
For making eyes at another girl
It made his face warm with pain
His eyes wet
Allan bought her flowers
Glued googly eyes to the petals
Gave her a note
See. Only ever had eyes for you.
What Allan doesn’t know yet
Is that to get into heaven
Peter checks knees for scars
Checks hands for beauty
Checks eyes for everything else
Allan’s knees look like the moon
From the ways that he prays
Spotty gravel craters
Dimpled with the fear of
Maybe I won’t feel so lonely this time
His hands can hold someone’s head
His own head
Can make someone fall asleep with them
Can hold them so tight
It keeps them from leaving
Allan keeps forgetting
He pushes against the ground to stand
Brushes himself off
Wipes his eyes
And smiles
He forgets
Mar 10, 2012
Mar 10, 2012 at 1:30 PM UTC
(My daughter Suzanna Christy dance on 15th August 2011)
I saw her dancing thro’ the peep hole of my heart,
My person was marooned beyond her person,
She called me thro’ the autumnal breeze,
And I was caught in the stormy wind within.
It was the day that she’d been called for a dance,
And the stage had been breathing fragrance and excitement;
Yet here I was caged not to fly out to witness her dance.
I let my soul float on its wings reaching her dancing arena.
My soul watched her dance ‘midst of tiny blooms,
And she looked the dazzling star of the cosmic garden.
Her jingling steps thrilled my soul and I shouted in joy,
The fluttering of her eye lashes pinched my excitement,
The melody born of heart travelled thro’ her tongue
Reminded of my joy born when she’d uttered ‘Dad’.
Her mom too was in the cradle of joy, yet far from her presence
And she’d been writing words of joy in her heart
For the little fragrant dance had traversed into her soul.
We’d imbibed joy ineffable when we watched her dance with our souls.
For she‘s always God’s Gift unto us to live in joy.
Dec 20, 2011
Dec 20, 2011 at 11:26 AM UTC
Facing an empty nest
my son said don't be stupid
use your apple laptop
to go on ok cupid
So i struggled with my profile
uploaded a picture or two
then waited for my soulmate
while stalkers came to view
One said he disliked people
the next, just casual ***
seeking christy brinkley's
firmed up **** & pecs
Once i was a **** buddy
i swear i never knew it
until he said "meet melody"
that's how i learned i blew it
I'm not greedy, not too needy
so i'll say this right out loud
when it comes to playful ***
for me 3 is a crowd!
Should i call on carrie bradshaw?
to explain *** in the city?
when samantha found her mr. wright
it ended not so pretty
Once a young man pursued me mightily
with passionate hysteria
until he asked for plane fare
to fly him from nigeria
Who IS that who winked at me?
what does it really mean
a sea of faces scrolling down
a modern mating machine
I digress, most do agree
that our lives flow like a river
but wait...what do i see?
my dream man in my quiver?
Oct 17, 2015
Oct 17, 2015 at 5:17 PM UTC
brady’s cafe
i’m doing a reading at kent state
got an interminably long wait to get on
protesters outside provoke the cops
about an after nine noise pollution law
they bang bongos and march through
the cafe
disrupting the readings
chanting
“noise is illegal noise is llegal.”
i am getting nerve racked and edgy
so i drink port from disguised juice bottle
we smoke a joint
the time drags and i get
somewhat drunk-my face a fiery blush
but no longer feel the thump of my heart
somewhere up in my neck
it’s round midnight
we smoke another
and suddenly i’m on
i totter up grabbing chairs for leverage
the crowd receptive to my words
never knew my mental anguish
or saw the slight in my left knee.
ana christy from beatnik blues
Jul 26, 2014
Jul 26, 2014 at 5:07 PM UTC
My name is Crazy
My name is disgusting, crooked teeth, ***** ***** four eyes, fatty, the pregnant chick.
But they call me crazy
I am not crazy
I express myself in ways no one can see or want to feel
I am not the cold expressionless face of cool
My clothing brands don’t shout the colors of the homophobic rainbow
Nor do my eyes lust after every boy with the sticker on his hat
For every boy and girl I see molded together in the hallway
I feel the sting of being alone
Hidden in the restroom
I see the smear smack and glitter of the makeup they touch up
I am not like them.
Nor do I want to be.
I feel pain everyday
The stifling grip of my depression dulls every sun ray
Some understand this very pain
HOW DARE YOU
How dare you try to understand my pain
I’m a teenager hear my angst of being alone like all the other alone people
In this jail cell we call highschool
We are all the same though we crave the different
Under the oppression of the creativity box we are forced into only few see the light
Crying aloud as the same people pile on top I feel their words sting.
The name calling it calls out. Their suffering is obvious
The indifferent face of cool shines so brightly with caring they are blind to it
My name is Christy
Aug 2, 2012
Aug 2, 2012 at 2:05 AM UTC
i am your woman in
ruby red silk sari with
gold thread-
i bear the mark of a
married woman high
on my forehead
for you i cook aromatic
spiced lamb-tender as
the light over morning
calcutta
yellow rice soft as a
painter's yellow ochre
on drying pallate
for hours i have watched
over slow rising flat bread
each thrust of the heel
of my hand forming warm
dough into flat ovals
i bathe in the essence of
warm sandalwood and
the fruit smoke of incense
tonight i give to you the
secrets of womanflesh and
take you to me david
under white gauzy canopy
as the garden peacock
prims it's silken feathers
under the shadow of the
sundial-
tonight i am your temple
and the gods smile softly
with pleasure.
ana christy
Sep 22, 2013
Sep 22, 2013 at 11:39 AM UTC
(For my Loving Daughter Suzanna Christy)
Seven years before her heart throbbed and mine too,
She was prepared to face to the world with God’s Gift:
Her travail had begun and each of her nerve shivered with thrill,
The Father in Christ in His invisible Presence hath been beside her.
Now I shed tears that speak how she had borne the physical agony,
And my inward eye writes how the day was and today it is.
The tiny blossom within the womb shook the stem of the plant,
And the plant stood fluttering, unshaken, but withstanding.
I now feel how I felt of her personal ordeal for matchless Gift.
God’s Answer in her womb, personified, traversed the way out,
The Invisible Christ held her in His arms during the journey,
It was the journey that none can describe except the Answer in the womb.
Biological apprehensions began to fly out with anguishing threats;
Yet the Heavenly Providence filled the way with His Grace.
Medical engineers acted upon their wit and tools to watch the drama.
The God-sent soul, anxious and hopeful, waited for the little wonder:
‘How could God’s Answer personified be?’
Time was on its wings, minutes flew, seconds galloped.
Engineers’ assistants exchanged responses of sincerity and hopefulness.
The little Answer personified whispered from within the Heavenly Mercy.
Everyone heard the whisper, and the mother too, and she would be a mother.
The clock was in its perfection to chime the melody of the Answer,
And the whole world, dressed in joy and smile, looked in awe and wonder.
It was forty strokes behind the entry of the little Answer:
How could I share my joy and with whom?’
The mother raised a doubt within her.
‘I am with thee, share thy joy and pain with Me,
For I have borne everything for thee on the Cross.’
She heard a voice within and the pain left her,
Joy let its wings fly when the little Answer peeped out the world.
It was seven strokes yet to chime.
Each second was a mystery and the mystery was to be solved.
The trumpet raised its clarion call; the lyre touched its strings,
The firmament, filled with Heavenly Blessings, began to shower on.
The little Answer personified sent forth her first cry,
And the cry was first heard by the Master.
Yes, she was born, and she entered the world.
It was fifty-two strokes past three whistles she was born.
Little fairies began blowing little trumpets,
The mother shouted in joy: ‘THANKS TO MY LORD!
Our answer hath been heard. Thou art my Master.’
Dec 20, 2011
Dec 20, 2011 at 11:28 AM UTC
This is Tina, she's my kid sister.
Over there is Joseph and Paul, they are twin siblings, our next door neighbors.
Next to them is Christy, blush she lives two streets down the street.
We are playing WHOT in my house.
Yes, Whot.
It's a card game that most parents won't let their kids play;
My dad included
But he is at work at the moment.
Dad is very strict.
Whenever he is home,
My friends aren't allowed to come over unless we are going to study, and under his supervision.
Suddenly we hear his car honking at the gate,
There's panic and turmoil in the living room.
Whot cards are flying around and empty Oreos packs are being thrown into the trash bag.
Empty juice cups are being taken to be washed in the kitchen.
There's an avalanche in here and the result is orderliness.
By the time dad steps in,
We're all settled around the study table,"reading."
Oh God, no!
There's the 20 Whot card on the table.
Dad has seen it and he is coming over.
He has a scowl on his face and I know that look; we're all getting a good beating.
The last time we were flogged, Tina wet herself.
Dad comes over, he looks at each one of us,
Then in his deep, baritone voice, he asks:
"Have you eaten?"
My shoulders sag,
I am defeated.
Today cant be April fool's day.
Sep 11, 2016
Sep 11, 2016 at 5:36 AM UTC
AN ODE TO A BABY
MATLOOB BOKHARI
I saw a baby in a valley wet with dews
Standing in the wholesome herbs
And flowers of fresh hues
Plain air was ruffling her hair
She was honey sweet and a pure chaste lily
No bee has ****** her; no wasp has stung her
The valley was alive with the music of stream
With flowers so various, so beautiful, so new,
So stunning sunlit blue sky, so sweet cool breeze
In the valley , the baby was the most delightful flower
I praised her with all my heart and with all my mind
O sweet heaven, lucky will be the one
Who will pass his life with you!
Few moments in the valley have made a forever memory
Still smell perfume of her beauty when lay awake at night
The baby even to date brightens up my soul with her smiles
Semeniuk Carole Matloob Bokhari . that is a huge compliment coming from such a worldly writer as you my friend .. .. thank you . You've such a gift ; you are talented; and we are blessed to have the privilege of hearing your stories; experiences; dreams; thoughts ~~ indeed we are .. .. happy weekend my friend PEACE
Demelia Denton My goodness Matloob ... so many expressive words you write ... A great mind for words ... very nice
Sandra Delussu something worth to keep in your eyes. thanks Matloob
Rebecca Longan I love this my friend Matloob Bokhari
Christy Noel Feddersen My Grandma Feddersen (God rest her soul) used to call me "Flower". She said I was the first little flower of the Lord. She was wise and filled with Spirit, and taught me many things. I have been thinking a lot about her lately, and this reminded me that she is always with me. Thank you.
Debbie Tripp · Friends with Christy Noel Feddersen
She is always with you Sunshine \
Sand Tucker Lovely write. It carried me back to when my children were actually children. A sweet journey. Thank you.
Karyn Walker I tried to send you what I saw, in your manuscript, dear brother Matloob. From my heart to yours.
Stunning lines.
Oct 24, 2014
Oct 24, 2014 at 11:12 AM UTC
(This verse is dedicated to the teachers teaching my loving daughter Suzanna Christy)
Thou are the guiding stars to her in the garden of learning:
Every alphabet she utters is thy endeavor for her,
Thou lift her hand to write and sketch what thou hast learnt,
The circles thou make are the ones she learns about the world,
The lines thou stretch are the ones she draws her experiences,
The squares thou measure are the ones she weighs her knowledge.
Thou hast shown the ladder to soar by steps,
Thy frivolous rebukes may strike her tiny errors,
And she learns from thee how life takes it route on its way.
Thou hast laid a way for her to carry out tasks,
Thou hast trained her to read herself in her own way,
Yet with the way that has its own ethical values,
Thou hast made her walk on her own,
And thy words of law and ethics still ring into her heart.
Thou art gardeners while she grows with fragrance,
And she shines with her fellow-blooms.
Thou are every-shining brooks carrying tiny blooms towards rivers,
And she flutters on her way with wisdom and in joy.
Thou art mother birds feeding their little ones in the nests,
And she imbibes wit and humor.
Thou teach her science, numbers, signs and gestures,
Thou hast made her a living genius to shine with her genii,
And so, let me paint thee in my lays, and it’s my tribute to thee.
And so, my heart rejoices in my daughter’s fragrance with thee.
Dec 20, 2011
Dec 20, 2011 at 11:12 AM UTC
that week in Indiana
a 16 hour drive
Indiana bound
the road before
me wound here
and there as I
drove the day
the night filled
with anticipation
and lust for the
farmer and his
chickens cows
and an old brown
dog I was as free
as the wind
following the map
to the small town
that led me to him
that early dawn
and he was there
by the side of his
ramshackle
house in his army
fatigues and his
long brown hair
with a red bandana
oh god was he as
true to his photo
even better
and I did what
farmers daughters
do with handsome
men
in the hay loft
where mice ran
scattering
and the chickens
clucking and the
cows mooing and
the dog was barking
as we lay moaning
under an orange
moon-it was 18
years ago and I
dream of him still
we loved and lost
but the memories
stay and linger
still
there is a lot to
be said for Indiana
country boys with
red bandanas.
ana christy
Jul 23, 2014
Jul 23, 2014 at 5:19 PM UTC
This verse is written on 23 Sep. 2011 remembering the occasion of my Loving Daughter SUZANNA CHRISTY’S CHRISTENED DAY
It is the day she was christened with a name
Which bears the Rock that’s built on Glory
Whose matchless love being showered each moment on her.
She was brought in the arms of His servants
Whose prayers caressed the infant’s soul
To grow in the Lord with His Wisdom and Mercy.
She was laid in the cradle of prayers and blessings
And a great congregation of friendly stars offered its light,
And the happy blooms fluttered around the infant.
She looked happy and with full of smiles,
And every moment of hers penetrated his heart
That he took paint and brush to draw her enthralling portrait.
He read a poem penned on her, and the little soul smiled in joy.
God’s servants proclaimed her with the name ‘SUZANNA CHRISTY’,
For she hath been God’s Gift answered to their supplication.
The little soul winked its eyes and whispered back ‘THANK YOU, CHRIST.’
He heard the little soul’s voice of joy and they shouted back ‘THANK YOU, LORD.’
Dec 20, 2011
Dec 20, 2011 at 11:14 AM UTC
and at the end of this session, i'm going to gorge on homemade banana cake, and a glass of milk; hmm, so that's that.
hannah hallysem, chloe vevrier, rosalia verne, dakota skye, nadine jansen, milena d., katrina jade, alison tyler, sasha foxxx, noelle easton, shay fox, kourtney kane, aletta ocean, lexi belle, aria giovanni, maritza mendez, silvia loret, laura lion, ashley graham, latex lucy, alexis texas, dana dearmond, abella danger, karmen karma, jezebelle bond, keisha grey, karmen grey, jelena jensen, carmen croft, aneta buena, ines cudna, ewa sonnet, emma green, louisa marie, ivy nedkova, karolina pliskova, emma green, louisa marie, ivy nedkova, rooney mara, claire forlani, kelley scarlett, malina may, amirah adara, phoenix marie, foxy di., kenya lust, kiera winters, christy mack, paige delight, faith nelson, darya klishina, sand morris, alysha newman, silvia saint, adele stephens, deven davis, ewa wyrwal, tanya song, synn wagner, christina lucci, hunter leigh, lynda leigh, gemma atkinson, mulani rivera, sarah harding...
all those "expectations" mingling with a babuska...
gotta have a babuska after a list like that...
looks nice, doesn't it?
see how honest other people can become...
that's as honest as you're going to get:
i'm hardly an out-of-the-closet gay / intellectual...
and this is hardly the most desireds genetical "encyclopedia"
worth reciting...
but at least there's no closet,
and certainly no skeleton in it...
to be honest, i'd love to see a compendium of
a woman's favourite *****
oh sure, i can switch off...
i just start thinking about cow *******
and milk sacks; not that hard;
ugh... furr... itchy... stroking a cow is like
scratching your skin after the barbers...
milking a cow: ah... another subject
of investigation...
why do men not bother being
breast-fed, to out-compete the babe?
seems a shame to leave a vacuum for
capitalism to not investigate, don't you think?
Sep 2, 2017
Sep 2, 2017 at 10:01 PM UTC
When Christy comes
A setting sun rises
Whirling traffic hushes
Birds sing new tunes
Children gather
In the courtyard
To catch a glimpse
Of our first kiss
Hearts beat faster
Faces glow
Nothing else matters
Time stands still
As we embrace
Lovers pray for
Eternal happiness
Nights of passion
And true world peace
They would feel
Them all fulfilled
If they were here
When Christy comes
Jul 10, 2015
Jul 10, 2015 at 11:46 AM UTC
One would opt for Scooby Doo and Agatha Christy
The other for cheesy romance Asian dramas and light novels
One would rather be building the sets
The other, on the stage
One cares nothing at all for other’s thoughts
The other cares too much
One wants to be a police woman
The other simply cannot choose
It shouldn’t be possible
Yet it is
And perhaps, it is their extreme differences that bring them together
That keeps them from clashing
Or,
Maybe something in their respective personalities finds solace in the other
Whatever the case
They are best friends
Sep 8, 2018
Sep 8, 2018 at 9:32 PM UTC
I've just risen from my coffin,
Do you come here often?
can I buy you a drink?
Where you from?
Fort Lee,
Yes I know the Place,
Where Christy met his fate,
Why did he make us wait?
Oh ! it was all, just a big mistake,
Now do you want that drink?
What that's you say?
You don't date Vampires or poets,
no rhyme or reason,
You don't want anyone ******* your blood,
and then crying about it,
I see, I get your point.
You are ****
your look is catchy,
Thanks for the chat,
the dawn is breaking soon,
I've grown lonesome,
and tiresome
This immortality,
has too much remorse.
Firewalker
Nov 27, 2014
Nov 27, 2014 at 2:32 PM UTC
To go
Or not to go
That is the question
whether tis noble in the mind
to suffer the slings and arrows
of outrageous fortune
or to take arms against
a sea of troubles
and by opposing end-
Okay guys that's enough.
Anyone recognize that?
Seriously though, should I go to the dance?
A part of me wants to
I'd get to see my friends
share experiences with them...
Another though,
Would rather stay at home
having more fun there
My mom told me I should go
try something new
But it isn't new
I went last year
It was great
But right now I'm feeling mildly invisible in my friend group
Maybe more effort is required?
To relate more with them?
But it's not due to malicious intent
Or anything
I
just
feel
invisible
I have one best friend though
But we're kind of different
It's still easy and fun
between us
She doesn't go to the dances
She doesn't wear dresses
She'd rather play video games
Watch Scooby Do
Or read Agatha Christy
I have other friends too
But I don't talk to the ones I don't see everyday much
But I talk to a variety of people as well
At least,
I have people I can easily talk to
Should I go?
I probably won't be lonely
But I'd probably have at least some times
of Boredom
No
Maybe that's why I'm not going
I'm a coward
But
That isn't it
...exactly
It's sort of
laziness
combined with a mild fear
But mostly I feel I'd have more fun at home
AAAARGGH!
Somehow I seem to believe I'll have better friends in the future
Maybe
Maybe not
I think I will though
Plus, at this age
at least in all the relationships I've had
Both sides
Are SUPER self-obsessed
PEOPLE ARE SO SELF-OBSESSED
(Me included)
Alright rant over
(Probably not)
Sep 18, 2018
Sep 18, 2018 at 10:47 PM UTC
The first one
A bully
Keeping me on a leash
Under threat of abandonment
The second one left
Moved to another state
Robbing me even
Of the opportunity to be chosen
To cut his goodbye cake
The third one was too girly
Weak willed, too easily embarrassed and self conscious
One who’d rather
Be the star of a pretend fashion show
Than attempt dangerous and
Exciting escapades
In the playground
The fourth were a pair
But new schools
Different interest
New friends
New workloads
Made it difficult to keep up
And the relationship drifted away
The fifth were once again a pair
But, too caught up in each other
Until a falling out with one
And a lack of opportunities to see the other
And eventual conflict between the two
Shattered that relationship to a fragment of its former self
The sixth was too self obsessed
With too many problems of her own
Sleep deprivation
Prone to sicknesses
Struggling with classes
And a general lack of social awareness
And extreme denseness
And seriousness
Ended that too
And now, I’m on the seventh
We shall see how it goes
Thus far we are two completely different specimens of people
One would opt for Scooby Doo and Agatha Christy
The other for cheesy romance Asian dramas and light novels
One would rather be building the sets
The other, on the stage
One cares nothing at all for other’s thoughts
The other cares too much
One wants to be a police woman
The other simply cannot choose
It shouldn’t be possible
Yet it is
And perhaps, it is our extreme differences that bring us together
That keeps us from clashing
Or,
Maybe something in our respective personalities find solace in the other
Whatever the case
I hope we last
Sep 8, 2018
Sep 8, 2018 at 9:24 PM UTC
The worldly wants to keep us hostages in the troubling world.
But we need to walk spiritually not living in this world fully.
But walking as though we are not bound by this world laws.
Because in truth we are not bound by those laws that hold the lost in *******
We are children of Christ with the same power that Christ had.
When he walked this earth over two thousand years ago.
Once we start using them to reveal Christ within us, people will be saved.
For this is just one of the many reason Christy gave to us the comforter.
Mar 18, 2014
Mar 18, 2014 at 7:04 AM UTC