"dignify" poems
To the men who have hurt me, both physically and emotionally. To the men who have sexually harassed me. To the men who have tried to coerce and guilt trip me. To the men who tried to take advantage of me when I was 15, the lowest point in my life. When I was weak. Destroyed from depression, from bullying, from the transition of middle school to high school, from anxiety, from blind parents and others ignorance. To those of you who knew I was in a ****** up state of mind, who pretended to support me when I was crying, only to run your hand up my thigh and whisper "I can make you forget about it." To the boys who abused me, insulted me, struck me, brought a suicidal teenage girl to the point of destruction. To the guy who didn't quite **** me, but who came close. Who grabbed all over me while I shoved and smacked and told him to stop. Who tried to get inside me without my permission and who tried to guilt trip me, calling me a tease and telling me to lay down and pretend nothing was happening if it really bothered me so much. Who tried to teach me to retreat inside of myself at human contact so I wouldn't resist. To every guy who approached a mentally destroyed teenage girl who was drowning in herself to try to get ****** favors, to try to get me to trade my body for drugs, to try to bring me down even further so I wouldn't say no. Because I did say no. I always said no and fought and nearly vomited every time a guy started groping, started making lewd commentary in what started out to be small talk, every guy that grabbed at me without my permission and leered and tried to grind on me without any context other than you had a hard on and I looked weak enough to force yourself on. I hope someday someone rips you all apart. I hope someone tortures you, tries to blackmail you, coerce you, makes you feel like garbage when you're at your weakest. Because as much as all of you tried, even this fragile, broken teenager rejected you. Fought her hardest to get away from attempted assaults and made it, clawing and screaming away from you. Cried silently as angry, mocking messages came in but didn't dignify them with responses. Ignored angry phone calls from multiple numbers and continued to live, even when you all tried to break me into a *** slave. **** every last one of you up the *** with a flaming ***** I hope you all go through hell. I was going through hell and you all tried to destroy me, to incinerate my spirit in the name of getting someone to touch your ***** I hope you go through worse. I hope somebody castrates you. If there is an almighty deity, I hope they curse you for eternity. I hope you all know that the girl you tried to destroy for your own sadistic pleasure is stronger than ever before.
Jan 2, 2015
Jan 2, 2015 at 7:28 PM UTC
By: Cedric McClester
Don’t call it a protest
When clearly it’s anybody’s guess
From what I see it’s the anatomy
Of how things can digress
Don’t call it a protest
If it’s an urban insurrection
Although I feel at best
It's a blow to the mid-section
Don’t call it a protest
Or the perpetrators simply thugs
After years of daily oppression
Knowing what oppression does
Don’t call it a protest
Call it anything other than that
When you see the anger boiling over
Because they’ve taken it to the mat
Don’t call it a protest
Or believe the media’s spin
When grievances aren’t addressed
It’s no telling where it will end
Don’t call it a protest
Or even try to dignify
The looting and the burning
Without answering the question why
Don’t call it a protest
Or mention First Amendment rights
When the majority of the people
Have to spend sleepless nights
Don’t call it a protest
Or look for a convenient excuse
For how they expressed their frustration
Through criminal acts of abuse
© Copyright 2015, Cedric McClester. All rights reserved.
Apr 28, 2015
Apr 28, 2015 at 12:31 AM UTC
Come, Madam, come, all rest my powers defy,
Until I labour, I in labour lie.
The foe oft-times having the foe in sight,
Is tired with standing though they never fight.
Off with that girdle, like heaven's zone glistering,
But a far fairer world encompassing.
Unpin that spangled breastplate which you wear,
That th' eyes of busy fools may be stopped there.
Unlace yourself, for that harmonious chime
Tells me from you, that now 'tis your bed time.
Off with that happy busk, which I envy,
That still can be, and still can stand so nigh.
Your gown going off, such beauteous state reveals,
As when from flowery meads th' hill's shadow steals.
Off with that wiry coronet and show
The hairy diadem which on you doth grow;
Now off with those shoes, and then safely tread
In this love's hallowed temple, this soft bed.
In such white robes heaven's angels used to be
Received by men; thou angel bring'st with thee
A heaven like Mahomet's paradise; and though
Ill spirits walk in white, we easily know
By this these angels from an evil sprite,
Those set our hairs, but these our flesh upright.
License my roving hands, and let them go
Before, behind, between, above, below.
O my America, my new found land,
My kingdom, safeliest when with one man manned,
My mine of precious stones, my empery,
How blessed am I in this discovering thee!
To enter in these bonds, is to be free;
Then where my hand is set, my seal shall be.
Full nakedness, all joys are due to thee
As souls unbodied, bodies unclothed must be,
To taste whole joys. Gems which you women use
Are like Atlanta's ***** cast in men's views,
That when a fool's eye lighteth on a gem,
His earthly soul may covet theirs, not them.
Like pictures, or like books' gay coverings made
For laymen, are all women thus arrayed;
Themselves are mystic books, which only we
Whom their imputed grace will dignify
Must see revealed. Then since I may know,
As liberally, as to a midwife, show
Thyself: cast all, yea, this white linen hence,
Here is no penance, much less innocence.
To teach thee, I am naked first, why then
What needst thou have more covering than a man.
2.2k
The constant mental banter
Back and forth yes or no
Do I disappoint my love
For a moment of instant gratification?
Do I throw away recovery
Three solid months
Itchy skin and hateful thoughts
For a moment of instant gratification?
And I'm so full of regret
Because it wasn't worth it
And I hurt my best friend
For a moment of instant gratification
A moment of instant gratification
That wasn't even gratifying
Wasn't in the slightest, satisfying
Harboring a moment of regret
For something he won't forget
But I tried in vain to justify
The actions I couldn't dignify
Words that trickled like thorns
Oh how I wish I waited a minute more
And not let their whispers win
Screams rather, as they crawl in
They soothed their shrieks
And gently brushed my cheeks
And convinced me it didn't count
If it didn't bleed on my account
But he held my close and said it did
I can't swallow it, but it's true, I backslid
"But it didn't leave any marks to show"
My mind screams and my heart does echo
"I didn't bleed in the slightest my dear"
Disappointing him is a biggest fear
As immaturity grasps at my soul
I have to accept my repercussions in whole
Three months down the drain
And causing my best friend pain
Not a scar to show for what I've done
But away from me, he'll never run..
Jan 7, 2014
Jan 7, 2014 at 2:43 AM UTC
Never-ending, incessant inspiration, is welcomed by the hand
Sweetly held treasured from the very start
As a silken caress of soothing persuasion, stirring the steady flow
Of your imagination, nestled gently in your heart
A release of cherished wonders, splendid in their course
Dignify the expression in their flow
With the breath of enticing bits of passionate emotion
Gratifying in their bliss, pleasing as they show
Deeply captivating is the gravitation to incessant inspiration
Ensnaring and hypnotizing the consenting soul
To express admiration with a measure of immense flourish
As an exhale of unrestrained emotion with no control
If you find you are intensely drawn into this sweet continuum
Of fascination gently rippling in the flow
Treasure the inspiration nestled gently in your heart
Express your imagination in the show
Jul 22, 2010
Jul 22, 2010 at 6:18 PM UTC
It's curious to think
our individual body parts
do very little
to tell our stories
or reveal our identities.
But when added
together and contextualized,
we comprehend more
than words can bear.
I wonder how many
pieces it takes
to recognize
a puzzle as such
and for fragments to
heed deeper meaning.
I wonder at what point
the soul enters and attaches
itself -- and at what point
we dignify ourselves
as more than
mobile jigsaws.
Jul 30, 2012
Jul 30, 2012 at 3:36 AM UTC
Plane Poetry: I go to Barber
aisle seat C 14,
an emergency exit row,
forced to solemnly swear
that for the extra legroom,
I will solemnly assist to open
the exit door, me first as my reward,
and keep my terrified screaming
below an elephant's trumpeting mating call
what hast this to do with a trip to Barber?
you Brits and Aussies, ever economical,
say went 'to hospital,'
leaving we Ameddicans
to dignify that august institution
as going to
The Hospital
Thus advised, be apprised, a
Nota Bene Benidictus:
I go to Barber,
Not
I go to the barber.
Samuel Barber,
Adagio for String Quartet, Barber
If unfamiliar with this piece,
you will recall it well
if "Apocalypse Now" registers at all
If not stop immediately,
return to Go,
start here,
www.youtube.com/watch?v=RRMz8fKkG2g
be prepared to surrender your mortality,
listen and if effected,
if you find yourself on your knees
weeping, recalling the days of loss,
the early empires of hope,
the first kiss
of your firstborn
and unknowingly,
the last you gave
a loved one
if you have the courage to
be touched and impacted,
as I,
then welcome back to
right here where why...
*I go to Barber
where violins soar me heavenwards,
where violins rip open sores long since scarred over,
I go to Barber
and float, eyes sky'd, as water
fills and departs my body simultaneously,
I go to Barber
to know that art can rise beyond,
that my weakened, wrecked human flesh, surpassable
I go to Barber
to harmonize my disconcordia,
romantic lyricisize my waning days,
I go to Barber
to voluntary confess, admit my impoverishment,
to acknowledge that they, my days, yet are capable,
I go to Barber
to remember and to forget,
to mark and unmark time
I go to Barber
to be created and recreated,
to be destructed and despaired
I go to Barber
to acknowledge, as human, better is forever possible,
for of the god spark, yet unextinguished
I go to Barber
because there is no plane as fast as his slow adagio,
to transport me to the who I am and should yet be*
May 4, 2014
May 4, 2014 at 4:47 PM UTC
Young, Wild and Free
There is no game and there is no compass
How I despise, another fall
Another diminishing glimmer in my eyes.
Brown cascading with Blue
Lips on lips,
Hips and Sips
I could like you but I don't know how.
For monogamy is a practice unknown to me
A language miles away, from where interconnectedness flies away
It's greatest fear is it's mastery, for a life lackluster at it's very seams.
Monogamy, a prized practice
Forever at its lips bidding adieu,
I would like you but I don't know how.
How do I dignify a surmise,
You're beyond deserving of more.
I like to smoke and I'm not sorry,
I like drinking until I can dance and I cannot forgive
I find my comfort in a glass of whiskey,
I find my charm breeds with corona.
You deserve more than a mickey,
You are my delicacy beyond this honey brown purity.
You should be dignified,
You should be invited to the ball and not the moshpit.
A million words and a million girls
So I cower in fear
Simmer in the millions of men
For every woman you see, there are a million men for me.
I cascade in this, I comfort in the crowd.
I find comfort in daydreams, ripping seams, lips
Distance is my mechanism,
Hope is abundance
I want nothing but your gaze,
But to save my soul with a simple graze,
I seek comfort in the crowd.
I'm lazy,
I've grown lazy with indecision,
A indecision that has bred on fear,
A crippling, cold, vindictive tar suffocating all reason.
Horror lulled me into laze, and now I await
I await a love that consumes me
But how may a love come to me when I stay begging
Begging by a bottle, holding comfort in the crowd.
I seek comfort in the crowd, but the crowd does not fulfil me.
The crowd is a youth, it is not a lifetime.
I seek comfort in the crowd, but the crowd cannot seek comfort in me.
Dec 10, 2014
Dec 10, 2014 at 6:17 AM UTC
Her beauty is that of a million diamonds glittering with perpetual gracefulness; each reflecting its own ray of light making brilliant patterns,
She in herself an integral part; a masterpiece of God’s finest art,
As His giant gentle hands molded her He knew exactly who she would be,
She would be the one whose voice is so calm; calm enough to hear the whispers of angels from the depth of eternity,
Whose smile blaze with sullen magic; enough to penetrate through the sandstones of the hills and mountains,
She will be in her human self a miracle on the face of existence; whose beauty is indescribable in words; a joy to watch when she grazes the floor with her graceful walk,
To see the eyes of men attendant and respectful; and the eyes of women upholding the hypothesis of her dignify honor when she talks,
She will be that lady who moves with such flawless coherence of elegance and perpetual gracefulness that dead heart beat when she pass,
Sending off a wave of unstinted pleasure to their inhumane face in amazement to her indefinable class,
She will be that lady whose voice command respect; so much respect that no bird dares sing in the planet when she talks,
In view of the universe being created around her immaculate gracefulness; the earth would rotate and dance in congruence to the luxuriant wave of her sweet voice,
waxing strong in her ambiance such to believe in her ineffable gift of completeness; for her presence is bliss seasoned with perfection,
She will be a dowager queen who radiates lucid rawness of orchestrated elegance; So much elegance that the angels gasp in the wake of her presence,
same very angels would spread their wings in adoration so she could graze upon them,
those same angels would seek and find solitude in the ambiance of her meticulous tenderness,
wishing that the melody from her luxuriant voice could be turn into songs; they will forever dance to its tune of sublime perfection,
wishing they could bask in the warmth of her smile; they will never forget to mask their face with it,
wishing they could bath with the purity that springs from her immaculate eyes; they will remain forever sacred,
wishing their names could be transcribed into the adoring letters of her name; for they shall forever bear the name HANNAH.
Oct 2, 2016
Oct 2, 2016 at 12:52 AM UTC
I am The Christmas Angel that sits atop your tree
No one's seen more Christmases than your Christmas Angel..me!
I've been around since time began and I was at the first
Christmas celebration that has since whetted the thirst
Of nations spread out globally who celebrate the Lord
Remember, I was the one who arrived and did deliver the word.
I represent to many folks a time of Christmas past
Of joy and love and family we all did hope would last
To others, I'm a symbol of the Guardian Angel who
Came down out of the heavens and spread the word anew
I am only what you see in me, I may be just a toy
But to others I'm the messenger who told about a boy
I've seen alot atop this tree, more than just this place
I've seen people fighting for the right to dignify their race
The Lord himself is many things in churches all around
He is not just one icon, there are many to be found
His story is not lost in time, and if I may be so bold
They even say his story is The Greatest Ever Told!
I came down that night to tell the tale to the shepherds in the field
I told them of the little child and how their fate was sealed
I gave them all directions to follow the Brightest Star
For even if they lost it, I will still know where you are
They made their way to Bethlehem months after he was born
But still they followed what I said and arrived one early morn
From where I sit I've seen some things that just do not make sense
I've seen nations put up blocking walls instead of just a fence
They believe in the same deity but they have a different name
Then they fight for years and die for naught and no one is to blame
Some people do not put an Angel on their tree
They put up stars....or baseball caps....but I still know it's me
I watch the spirit die in homes where Christmas has grown stale
Where greetings are all limited to saying hi by mail
In other homes I've seen the joy that little children gain
They gather round the tree and join in a choral song refrain
For all I've seen and I've seen much, there is no better sight
Than to see our soldiers sleep in peace upon a Christmas night
And through the years there is one thing that I have to ask
That is how in our God's name...did this tree get up my ***
May 26, 2012
May 26, 2012 at 7:05 PM UTC
Mi Chica Española
Novia
Your body a rose
But a full bloom sanctuary
Of goodies
Por favor me perdon
Good deeds I mean
Catch
My starving lust
You a saucy serpent
But then a saint
Wet my lips a kiss
And quench their dryness
Hiss
Into mine ears your secrets
Canndie
I mean candidly
Woo!
I lied,what I meant was candies
Shhhhh!
Just sweet my tongue your candy
And salve my sores
For amidst my fantasies
I hold a thought
Yea,the ****** your lips bring,as you licks
Por Dios
This
Is what the oceans call tender
When they row at the banks
Violeta
The desires you print in mine eyes
I mean not the color
Lo siento me olvidé
You're a scholar,I should know
Now
Drench me depths
But so abyss your Eróticos
And dignify mine passions
Dignify my decays
With the very romance your language cuddles
Gracias
Mi Chica Española
©Historian E.Lexano
Nov 25, 2015
Nov 25, 2015 at 4:18 PM UTC
O vicious household gods of Rome
you Manes, Lares, Muses, Fates
who justified patrician homes,
whose reign this poem celebrates,
Allow me now, in retrospect
to excavate, then analyze.
Depravity with cause, connect;
depriving you of alibis.
Relax your stiff noetic poise
as my plebeian pen records
through lyrical poetic noise
the crown imperial crime awards.
My lines, like foundlings, long to ****
a mother’s milk in measured draft
and dredge some gold from Tiber’s muck;
Lord Christ: illuminate my craft.
ROMULUS, let that wolf-tit go
and REMUS too – unlatch that breast…
milk of Etruscan madness, flow,
with empire’s crimes forthwith confessed.
We will not blame your leaden wares
nor ergot mold in rancid bread
for genocidal state affairs,
brutality, and martyred dead.
The Circus, leering, restless, loud,
cheers gladiatorial excess.
The haunted forum’s phantom-crowd
awaits the tyrant’s next address.
He speaks. The wind blows through the arches
stirring up the roadside litter.
Trumpets blare. The legion marches.
Empire’s aftertaste is bitter.
You were Antichrist. That is all.
We cannot dignify your past
or glorify from whence you fall
or praise the mold from which you’re cast.
Christ traveled far from Galilee –
came, saw, conquered – and on it goes.
Our king shall reign eternally;
that she-wolf’s milk no longer flows.
Sep 9, 2015
Sep 9, 2015 at 8:08 PM UTC
You're going to force me to violate a practice that has been ordained upon me by GOD for specific reasons after locking me up when I've committed no crime.
You're going to bully me and try to intimidate me and the many others who cover our hair and our body parts in order to dress modestly when in public and dignify ourselves.
You're going to forcefully remove my headscarf I've been willingly wearing after my conversion to the most perfected faith tradition, with the last, final, revised God's words' edition.
Well now you've contributed to a response to injustice in me.
Well now you've contributed to a response to violations of civil liberties, human rights, and religious freedom in me.
Well now you've contributed to a response to a crime against me and my blood and religious family in me.
Well now you've agitated a trend of resistance.
Well now you've fueled a trend of by whatever means necessary.
Well now you've instigated a trend of I love my GOD, I love my Prophet, I love my religion and you're not going to stop me.
Well now you've aggrevated a trend of many who are ready to stand up for me, by many who like me, by many who are like and unlike me.
Well now you've wised up a bit and have let me perform one of my religious duties, the wearing of my headscarf again proudly.
By: Najwa Kareem
Jan 20, 2019
Jan 20, 2019 at 11:26 PM UTC
To my dark scar, my black mark,
The shadowy spectre that follows,
you have constantly fought me down.
But know - I will not stand for it anymore.
I will reduce you to lower than anonymity
you are less than a stranger or an enemy
I will stare straight through you
you are not even nothing to me.
I no longer believe the lie that I need you
I will deny you the attention that feeds you
You are no more my inspiration or my muse
instead I choose to see things differently.
You will not be beautified or elevated,
You will not be derided or hated,
I won't dignify you with a single thought,
but, from now on - I will stand above you.
I am greater than the pin ***** of your existence
my heart beats with strength and persistence
You will not longer be the fear that lies in me
I will see the truth shining behind your darkness
You have tried to take my living breath
but I have already hit the depth of depths
and you can do me no more pain -
time and time again I will find my feet
and though you may bring me to tears
and poke my imagination with a thousand fears
I will not bow to you, my eyes are fixed on something higher,
and I will be wholeheartedly blinkered.
I will be me and that will be good enough
I won't measure myself by any of your should'ves
I will not blindly pursue an expectation of emptiness
instead I will profess my own self worth
I will see all of my differences - indifferently
they are beautiful and flawed but are unique to me
The rights to this story are paid for and they are mine
and I vow to myself that I will hold onto my pride
And when you rise up in me and begin whispering
when you are sat upon my shoulder - I won't be listening
I will block you out, I will sing above you
I will sing unashamedly because my voice is mine
and you will no longer dictate my course.
And when you are the brick wall standing in my way
And you try to cause my reason and my sanity to sway
I will rush you, I will break you and I will crush you
You will be no more than the dust beneath my feet
And I will run faster and stronger than before
And I know it won't be the last time I say this
But this will be my statement of intent and I will believe in it
And so right now, right at this moment
It ends.
Sep 7, 2016
Sep 7, 2016 at 12:19 PM UTC
Let me clarify, I'm not here to prettify life.
Amplify your ego or nullify your beliefs.
I'm here for me.
Dignify for me your response without a lie.
Can you? No?
Then in my best of Anglo Saxon do me the favour of
******* the **** off".
Oct 2, 2014
Oct 2, 2014 at 12:38 PM UTC
There are no goodbyes.
Just a long exhalation, then a sigh.
A sigh of peace, a sigh of grief.
A sigh of guilty relief.
Relief that you let go.
Relief that you went gently into the night.
Selfish is death as it steals your breath,
and takes ours away in grief.
But memory is kind it rose colours our mind,
and allows us to be left behind.
You'll always be our best memory
You'll always be at your best
You'll always be at rest,
and we left behind will always be bereft.
But there are no "good"byes
Just tears to cry
A life to dignify
And the question Why?
I never said goodbye dad, always "see you later".
Goodbye is too final, and love never dies.
There isn't a full stop, and the clocks still tick then tock.
While we children still breathe, half of you never leaves.
Good or bad, perfect or flawed, you are always our dad.
Aug 16, 2015
Aug 16, 2015 at 9:38 PM UTC
how easy it is to pretend
that they would never feel the things we do
that they are so different from us
Do they look out the window as the past disappears
Are the words of poets more meaningful to them
Is freedom for the soul or for God
Who could know what is right
how easy to assume we will ascend
that we are forgiven while treating them cruel
that they are a race to distrust
What in their life accuses them of being in contempt
Is it outside God’s ability to control the message
Is freedom about fear or disobedience
Who could know what is wrong
how we try to dignify the end
they cover the bodies we expose like fools
but we both begin with a single cut
Is it what our parents taught us that we trust
Rebellion is only the ignorance of our youth
There is no world to possess
Only the moment to make them cry
Oct 18, 2015
Oct 18, 2015 at 10:03 PM UTC
They say in Washington, D.C.
That few are hated as much as he.
Of course, that all depends on whom you ask.
If you ask him, he contends
He's not there to make more friends.
Pushing his agenda is his task.
Yep, the man has found his niche--
The man known as Moscow Mitch.
His biggest friend in D.C. now
Is Donald Trump. Notice how
The two men are connected at the hip.
They will sacrifice--insane!--
Democracy for political gain
With their vile, disgusting partnership.
Yep, the man has found his niche--
The man known as Moscow Mitch.
He truly doesn't dignify
The Senate, where bills go to die.
He prefers to make up his own rules.
Obviously, Mitch's goal
Is only to maintain control
And stack the federal courts with far-right fools.
Yep, the man has found his niche--
The man known as Moscow Mitch.
We know that Russians interfered
In our elections, but what's weird
Is Mitch McConnell doesn't seem to care.
Since Russians helped Trump win before,
He could use their help once more.
Without their help he wouldn't have a prayer.
Yep, the man has found his niche--
The man known as Moscow Mitch.
Just look at his expressionless mug.
(People say he resembles a slug--
A slug with an empty, vapid frown.)
If people really knew what's good,
And if they cared at all they would
Find a candidate to bring him down.
Yep, the man who found his niche--
The man known as Moscow Mitch.
-by Bob B (7-27-19)
Jul 27, 2019
Jul 27, 2019 at 9:49 AM UTC
To all who read this composition:
I shall share my disposition,
With these last words I waste my breath
To dignify my dance with death
I've found the reason that we live
Now life has nothing more to give
If shared, the world would see my plight
You must live on to fight the fight
The reason I shall leave today
Has a name, I dare not say
Her voice is soft, her eyes are deep
My memory of her, in death, I'll keep
I die today, so much more than satisfied
I find myself with nothing left to hide
So here you'll find my epitaph
A personal requiem, on my own behalf
I need her, but you could not understand
My love, and fate, go hand in hand
Visions of grandeur all put aside...
She will be the method of my suicide
Feb 6, 2013
Feb 6, 2013 at 1:49 AM UTC
The Government's World Wide want to appoint a Spiritual Guide Of the New Age...he is already here. Known by many names "The Anointed One" the "New Ressurrected Savior" behind his Mask Of Purity & Benevolence exists a thin veil that only the TRUE followers of Christ shall be able to distinguish when everyone else will be doomed to believe a LIE for the TRUE Nature of this Mortal Man. He will dominate the Nation's with a powerful voice and will entice and bewitch whole Nation's into believing in him due to his Accended Power. That power is UNHOLY and shall allow him to speak in tongues, prophecy things that will come to pass, heal the sick, revive the dead ...even so much so as to say and Blaspheme in the Holy Tabernacle Of God claiming to be "GOD" his multitude of miracles and wonders will make people question their TRUE SELF & their Faith. A man of stern character a pieus man who will dignify his Zeal among the Nation's as Ruler Of The New World. The Holy Bible talks breifly of such man who's sole purpose of confounding the masses and creating a false system of protection, peace, prosperity & love. This Final AntiChrist will walk inside the Temple Of The Holy Of Holies...and in turn gain new powers and create miraculous manifestations of Angellic Like Beings on Earth. BEWARE because his final objective is to manipulate the most powerful man & woman in the World to overthrow GOD'S WORD & his books. Powerful Pawns with powerful demonic influences are moving this World slowly creating a system of what may seem like "peace & protection for everyone" when in all reality they are staying the Earth for Christ's Return. Brothers & Sisters in Christ...remember to do good and pray for one another & genuinally love that neighbor it's all coming to a bitter end. Perhaps, out of reading this someone will see it the way I do...in Black&White Crystal clear. God Bless You & your Families,Communities and Land. GOD IS IN THE JUDGEMENT THRONE READY 2 JUDGE EVERYONE ACCORDINGLY...BE PREPARED!!!
Sep 11, 2019
Sep 11, 2019 at 8:08 PM UTC
Chorus
Real Eyes,Realize,Real Lies!
Seein right thru your disguise,my eyez minimize in size!
Real Eyes,Realize,Real Lies!
Denial will try n’ dignify, but truth will magnify!
Real Eyes,Realize,Real Lies!
I will only simplify,what you try to mystify!
Verse 1:
Look out, my words bout’ to hit you, like some lyrical ninjitsu! Come on I’m bout’ to get you! I’ma Pegasus n’ your just a shitzu! It’s thru! What the **** you gonna do? All the ******** you runnin thru? Runnin from! Young dumb, Where the **** you comin’ from? Livin a life of denial, hidin behind a fake smile! Actin hard like a crocodile! But you’re a predator like a ********* So delusional you turned senial! Made ya slower than Gomer Pile! While I… learned the truth from a Higher Power! To me you’re just a coward… Chewin on you like green leafs n’ little collards… Holler! Your face looks like it’s getting’ sour! Cuz your ******** lies are getting devoured! Pridin’ yourself on how much you make an hour! ***** ***** the world was already ours!
Chorus
Real Eyes,Realize,Real Lies!
Seein right thru your disguise,my eyez minimize in size!
Real Eyes,Realize,Real Lies!
Denial will try n’ dignify, but truth will magnify!
Real Eyes,Realize,Real Lies!
I will only simplify,what you try to mystify!
Verse 2:
Flippin’ the script, Bout’ to kick flip the **** outcha lips with the way I double dip my tips! Bout ta be a hurricane of thunder n’ rain! Chaos n’ pain! Truth n’ disdain! So much to gain! What you thought was real, was the way you were programmed to feel! It’s like you were electronic, turnin’ you demonic! But the truth rings harmonic! You wanna hear it? I’ll get right on it! You started out with Love,innocence n’ bliss, Though you’re ignorant to this! Like I said denial gave you a fake smile!Seek & you’ll find, the truth is not in your mind, it will only blind! **** & confine! Look deep within your Spirit! Even if you don’t want to hear it! Don’t fear it,clear it! You might shake & shiver, I promise the truth will deliver! And the lies will start to quiver! You’ll become lost in reality, one big large fatality! You’re heart & soul will come to a mutuality! No longer living on technicalities!
Chorus
Real Eyes,Realize,Real Lies!
Seein right thru your disguise,my eyez minimize in size!
Real Eyes,Realize,Real Lies!
Denial will try n’ dignify, but truth will magnify!
Real Eyes,Realize,Real Lies!
I will only simplify,what you try to mystify!
By: Ken Manuel aka <3 <3 <3 3ye Kvndy <3 <3 <3
Aug 25, 2017
Aug 25, 2017 at 10:38 AM UTC
Cooper's Hawk soars across the Northern breeze , shadowed against Hill Country's midday Sun , gaining altitude effortlessly ..
I implore , are you of troubled mind ? Preferably alone like me or ascending with great celebrity for all to see ?
Ne'er a more noble raptor did grace and dignify Georgia's cobalt blue skies , with steel countenance , the voice of a Delilah befitting the very Choir's of Heaven ..
Nov 29, 2015
Nov 29, 2015 at 6:04 PM UTC
DO NOT
call me "sir"
because I will not call you that.
I will not dignify you
with a title you do not deserve.
And I will not accept
glorification that I
did not earn.
I am no sir,
I am no child,
I am no gentleman,
I am no Heathen,
I am me
Apr 4, 2013
Apr 4, 2013 at 10:37 AM UTC
Condescending to humor my intimate muse,
You sought out her words in my writing.
I couldn't have guessed that you'd actually choose,
To tell her what you think is the source that I'm citing.
Get over yourselves, the drama and strife,
I can tell you’ve found something you wanted to see.
And, of course, held it up to the shape of your life,
And think you see secrets you once shared with me.
Forgive my intrusion throughout that December,
If that friendship seemed somehow untrue,
I won't try to persuade you, but you ought to remember,
Sometimes, unbelievably, it's not about you.
My task is obsessive, compulsion, expression,
I write the universal, the aggregate whole.
Never to betray or teach some grand lesson,
I’d rather enrich than to harm a good soul.
Emotions exposed and stories delivered may wound or dignify,
My job is to make it have life and clarity;
Give it weight enough to signify.
And, as then, when we meet,
Sour or sweet,
Speaking our truth,
Silent secrets,
and feel…
The words that can wound,
Flatter,
Heal or conceal...
All of them wind to what our actions reveal.
Jan 14, 2023
Jan 14, 2023 at 12:02 AM UTC