vicious revenge feel its strain.
Engrained forever on a decaying brain.
For its a plague with no andetote. No cure.
Nothings sacred. nothings pure.
No honor here to gain but a grasp of guilt, sorrow and pain.

A trench deep seated with animosity.
Hearts too blinded by hatred to see.
Its walls engulfing like vines round a tree.
But no vegeance shall set you free.

In realising its errors and fate
The soul desperately searches to escape.
Weary, hollow, it longs to retire
But hatred enslaves as its walls grow higher

For this is one prison sentence that will never transpire..
If you fight fire with fire.

Everyday caught
In the labyrinth of mind,
I am,
Where dreams,
And desires
And lust,
From nothing
Conspire something.

Destination: Canada Water.
The next station is Surrey Quays.
Doors will open on the right-hand side.
Exit here for Goldsmith's College.

In the cerebellum
Fragments flash cerebrum bright:
Wheels in tunnels burn,
A neural screech amplified deep,
As waves of electrons churn,
And in multiple places keep.

This stop:
- My birth -
Is in Westminster!

It’s time:

Do you love me?
DO YOU LOVE ME?
          Yes, No, Ohhh (the audience).

In the space-time continuum,
The labyrinth is forever,
Within a fourth dimension.

It’s time …

You love me, right?
YOU LOVE ME, RIGHT?
    Yes, No, Ohhh (the audience).

DO-MI-NA-TION
DEATH FREE
DO-MI-NA-TION
ASH FREE

Lost in the labyrinth: a journey to an exit.
The Overground train pulls!
And from floor to ceiling,
Between vertical orange pins,
A medley of languid listless limbs lulls,
       Seated hips,
       Angled legs,
       Dangling feet,
And neck-less heads,
Lost, ghoul-like,
The disconcerted move doggedly on,
Everywhere somewhere; but forever nowhere
Through London's hills and bogs.

From  STOP to STOP,
In the labyrinthine network,
In tubes splayed out on cubes,
Of bright brushed viscose comfort,
Overhead, the ads exhort:

       Top Up Your Soul,
       Fast Forward Your Escape
And
       uSwipe
       uSwitch
       uSave

Like these,
A hundred escalating messages,
Each more insistent than the last,
Compel, enough to distract,
So man’s desire enslaves his heart.

Its time…

         You love, right?
YOU LOVE, RIGHT?
    Yes, No, Ohhh (the audience).

DO-MI-NA-TION
DEATH FREE
DO-MI-NA-TION
ASH FREE

How? Why?
Has bacterial sludge,
Built these edifices of glass and steel.
This labyrinthian cage,
Whose walls race up at the speed of light,
While the inner commuter flame gutters,
Everywher, in multiverses,
Supernovas explode in showers.
And for a moment, in the moment, The Overground chromatic glows.

New Cross Gate, Canada Water, Southwark.

Lit and digital and LCD:
        
  ALL CHANGE, PLEASE.
  THIS TRAIN TERMINATES HERE

A few automated steps, and:
       Southwark,
       Green Park,
       Then Baker Street,
Appear, fade and disappear.

Now walking down Belsize Road,
On the evening of the
Super Gibbous Moon,
As it rises high over the Ziggurat dimensions of the Alexandra Estate,
And all is blood orange at dusk,
As I, a slinking silhouette,
Make for the event horizon of home,
For surely given, and taken,
A few more bends, another turn,

It’s time, again.

         Love, right?
         LOVE, RIGHT?
    Yes, No, Ohhh (the audience).

DO-MI-NA-TION
DEATH FREE
DO-MI-NA-TION
FREE ME.

To the event horizon of consciousness,
To that black hole at the core.
In death's star-like eye,
Embrace, pass through,
(Fear not),
On, through the labyrinth northward,
Entering and exiting,
We go awhile, a little longer.

Stars, my Stars,
Again, it's time.

You love me, right?
YOU LOVE ME, RIGHT?
Yes, No, Ohhh (the audience).

SU-PER-NA-TU-RAL
SU-PER-NA-TU-RAL
DEATH FREE.
LOVE!
BE,
WINGS FREE:

     SU-PER-NA-TU-RAL

One more stop:

       New Bond Street.

GET BEYOND
DESIRE,
BEYOND THE LABYRINTHEAN LIE,
CONSUMER, DIE!
BE
MATERIAL FREE.

Last stop:

       No-name, this one:

BE:

     SU-PER-NA-TU-RAL.

SAY IT:

     SU-PER-NA-TU-RAL
     SU-PER-NA-TU-RAL
     DEATH FREE.
     LOVE!
     BE,
     WINGS FREE:
    
     WE ARE:
     SU-PER-NA-TU-RAL

Lack of money is lack of friends; if you have money at your disposal, every dog and goat will claim to be related to you. ~ Yoruba
War has no eyes ~ Swahili saying
There can be no peace without understanding. ~Senegalese proverb
A leader who does not take advice is not a leader. ~ Kenyan proverb
If there is character, ugliness becomes beauty; if there is none, beauty becomes ugliness. ~Nigerian Proverb
Unity is strength, division is weakness. ~ Swahili proverb
Wisdom does not come overnight. ~ Somali proverb
Knowledge without wisdom is like water in the sand. ~ Guinean proverb
Home affairs are not talked about on the public square. ~ African proverb
Show me your friend and I will show you your character. ~ African proverb
Make some money but don’t let money make you. ~ Tanzania
When you are rich, you are hated; when you are poor, you are despised. - African proverb
A man who uses force is afraid of reasoning. ~Kenyan proverb
Traveling is learning. ~Kenyan Proverb
What you learn is what you die with. ~ African proverb
He who is destined for power does not have to fight for it. ~ Ugandan proverb
It takes a village to raise a child. ~ African proverb
Poverty is slavery. ~Somalia
The wealth which enslaves the owner isn’t wealth. ~ Yoruba
Much wealth brings many enemies. – Swahili
You are beautiful, but learn to work, for you cannot eat your beauty. ~Congolese Proverb
A pretty face and fine clothes do not make character. ~Congolese Proverb
Show me your friend and I will show you your character. ~ African proverb
A close friend can become a close enemy.~ African proverb

It is a sickness,
That lives amongst,
The focused sky
The curious child,
And the moon illuminated.

It is an endless drone,
That wrenches our stomachs,
Enslaves our neighbours,
And breaks our spirits,

It is worshipped,
Yet will see us forgotten,
A blip on a savanna,

Black soot
Shrivelled up Cadbury
wrapper eyes
You were not my antidote
You turned a balanced

happy
friendly
spice 'n' all things nice girl
into a hermit with
bloodied fingers, a
self-destructive narcissist
(or did you just
coax her out of her shell)
well

I quit on you
the ****** is the **** spoon
your prose the lighter
your hips the dealer
my heart the coffin.

I cried
I cry
I will cry
Over your constellation swamps
Housing crocodiles
Water-borne diseases
and piranhas
I am naive;
I think my youth protects me.

My youth enslaves me.
Binds me in paper chains.

goth girl
wearing pastel
doc martens
and black leather
submit
voluntarily  
kneel before me
as your master
enslaves you
with this collar

Control:

Enticing me

I am at your mercy

My delicate nature in need

Bewitching every facet of my being

Command:

Overtake me

Demanding my rapture

Leading me to my submission

Freedom escaping me in this *******

Coalesce:

Ensnaring me

Obedience resolved

Craving the softness of your flesh

The grasp of these restrains enslaves me

Complete:

Liberate me

Promises delivered

This total wonder entangling

Rescuing me with absolute fulfillment

She told me to
"Imagine a safe place",
a quiet place, somewhere to go
when the fog is at my feet.

But everywhere I went was
crowded with doubt
and a lingering loitering
presence on my shoulder,
come out from the fog to
hurl accusations and taunt.

I can only assume
it's a he on my shoulder,
an enigma,
my father's doppelganger
come to dredge my mind
of all the **** he dished out
when I was a child,

and feed it back to me again.


I tell her I'll need more tools
and stronger ideas.

So she gives me a seat at
the head of the table
where my ****** committee meets,
and a gavel to establish order
or bash in their brains.

She arms my dreams
with weapons and courage,
gives me REM when I'm wide awake.

We fashion a furnace of love,
hot enough to vaporize the
cold darkness pouring into my gut,
customized with levers and pulleys
to push and to pull in the fight.

We tally
Alpha and Beta waves,
trained and retrained,
hard coded messages
sanded smooth by repetition.

       Through it all I give too,
       and what I give is all I can give,
       it is the warmth of what enslaves me,
       and the thought of letting it go….  
       Well.... lets not go there right now.

In the long run I'm not sure that
any of it will be enough,
I am weakened by the war.

But occasionally there
are shiny spots that simmer,

You see,
I may have found that place,
the place she first told me to find
way back at the beginning,
the place to feel safe, although
it isn't really a place per se.

If it were true
I could finally ascend to
where no fog can go.
Where my father's voice
cannot be heard,
nor the ghosts I grew
up with.

A place of love and honesty,
where my furnace would sit idle in awe.

There is a picture of us
on our bedroom wall.
It is the perfect depiction of
all that is safe for me.

I look at your smile
and I see peace.
Nothing can penetrate
your radiance,
you are everything
I've never had,
double layered and
impenetrable
by all of it.

By all of the ****.

I am learning to go there
when the fog is at my feet,
and the ghosts are in my ear.

When the accusations come
I can escape there with you,

and together we can drown them out

if only for a little while.

I love them,
They don’t love me.
Why would they?
They’re hot,
Juicy,
And delicious,
And I’m just…
Salty,
******* them down to the bone.

Buffalo wings rip up my insides,
They’ll inflame my chest and belly,
Giving me heartburn,
As I power through my consumption of them,
And yet I still crave them on a frequent basis,
As if I didn’t learn my lesson the last time.

Bone in or bone out,
It doesn’t really matter at this point,
I gave up trying to develop a preference,
As I’m committed to my hankering,
And seek regular satisfaction,
From the sensation and flavor they provide me.

Eyes full of tears,
I power through the pain,
Believing that each and every wing is worth it,
Even if I know they don’t agree with me,
And know **** well they are not good for me,
It’s like hitting yourself in the face,
But laughing at the sound it makes.

Wings come in all shapes, sizes and flavors,
But I choose the buffalo wing every time,
For the mere fact that they taste the best,
Even if they end up causing the most damage.
They don’t even fill me up,
But they do make me feel like I’ve had enough.

How many buffalo wings would it take,
For me to try a new flavor?
Is it the saltiness that appeals to me?
Is it the spiciness that enslaves me?
Is it the drippiness that seduces me?

Why not something sweeter, like BBQ,
Or savorier like Parmesan Garlic?
Why not choose plain old wings,
With a little bit of seasoning to keep it interesting?

Nope, I’ll always go for the buffalo wing,
I’ll always have that craving,
Because sometimes, living on the edge,
Knowing the risks and going ahead anyway,
Makes loving wings all the more worth it,
Despite their destructive ways.

There is a Cheshire cat with a nefarious nose ring
Who lashes berating riddles, and vernacular that’ll make you cringe
He slithers through abandoned shadows
On dilapidated gravel, and bears a deathly sickle grin
Enticing as he may be, he only wishes to deceive
So be wary of his beguiles, they are hidden underneath his symmetrical smile
Nor give in to the plastic prophecies he preaches
Nothing he teaches will stitch meaning into your ambiguities
For he enslaves your sorrows and siphons your dreams
Leaving you asphyxiated in catatonic screams

My neighbor wished me Happy Juneteenth yesterday.
I felt alive saying it back -
Yeah! Happy Juneteenth!
Now! We can say it without feeling threatened;
without feeling alone or lame.
We can say it minus that chip weighting our shoulders
and absent the lump of shame sitting on our chest.
We can sing out, Happy Juneteenth!
in a new melodic tune.
Like when we wished each other, Merry Christmas!
We can say it loud with joy and release
and uplifting confidence
that if one doesn’t wish it back
that one is one of the sad and sorry lost who must suffer.
Juneteenth, you say? Who ever heard of that holiday?
Mrs. Horton would stare you down
like you don’t know your tongue
from your *******,
she heard you say that.
I learned of the true independence day of our nation
as a young student of 17 in public school.
Learned truths my programmed parents couldn’t teach
from one of God’s messengers of truth
manifest in the form of a high school teacher.
I found out because I wanted to know;
know why the ****** up **** I saw each day
happened mostly to people who were brown
and mostly not to people who weren’t that color.
And, I wanted to know why.
To really get to the crux of why -
even though my skin is peachy tan cream -
why I’m black too?
What’s that mean anyway?
Really, you don’t know. Do you?
Not till someone who knows shows you too.
Or, you just forget who they told you you were.
Then you too will be able to find the truth.
Only because of desire and pure will to understand.
But, if you don’t wanna know -
or cared not to know -
then you never knew of Juneteenth.
And this is all new.
And you think - How do these folks know just what to do?
On a brand new holiday
that trumps the other one they tried to fake.
Cuz no nation is free while it enslaves its own fundamental roots;
choking truth to hide its own crimes.
Holding back light to wallow in pitiful darkness.
J4 is nothing.
Juneteenth is all!
You never were free till you freed all your sons.
And you cannot be till you see all offspring free.
Until you hold the truth in your heart
you can never really be free to be what you are.
So really, any independence day was of undercover ******* -
a reminder of the lie.
While enslaved mothers and fathers,
sisters and brothers walked with free minds on this land
and you celebrated your own cruel spiritual demise,
without understanding or true purpose defined.
But now! Look at the colors we have given you again!
Oh nation stained in blood and terror,
look at what we have given
as a token of our love and forgiveness.
Juneteenth! All is Juneteenth!
The one and only true day to symbolize
the day you finally took the first step -
to step away from your own chains
and the ones you tried to use to bind me.
This one day we give you -
symbolizing that this nation is finally now and forever
a sponsor and supporter and endorser of the free!

Thou canst be a slave to god,
Or a slave to man!!

Now which doth thou chooseth?

When man enslaves
He gives out whips and brittled glass...

When god enslaves
He giveth a whole paradise of unknown delicacies,

Now which one wouldst thou chooseth?

choices
embrace things
that sickens
enslaves
maims
kills

unbound
yourself

loose
your chains

turn away from
the dungeon
that has
become
your death
chamber
you
alone
crafted
with such
deft skill

you exiled
yourself

hid away
from the living

inhabiting a
convenient
confinement

relishing
the deceitful
pleasures of an
addled mind

a twisted
portrait
of a
shackled
self

living
inside
the
dark abode
of your head

bumping
about in
unmapped
caves

dwelling
in a place
that no one
could find
nor dare
explore

you heap
stones
at the door
providing
your only
means
of escape

safely
entombed
in your
vapid
delusions

a decrepit
graveyard

an abandoned
township
of lonely
sarcophagi

long forgotten
by the
moldering
bodies
of the city's
ghostly
citizens

you reek
with the
stench
of death

you
murdered
yourself

and
became
dead
to us

But
Jesus
wept

over
your
self
denigration

never
forsaking
y­our favored
condition

The
Good Friend
lifted
you
from
Edens
dust

and
showered
you
with
fine
thi­ngs

yet
you
found
no joy
in

the gift
of solace

the might
of grace

the balm
of love

the rest
of peace

all
only
heaped
torments
upon
you

your
sisters
wailed
in grief

imploring

The
Resurrector
to make you
whole

he only
shrugs
and
extends
a palm

unloose
the rags
of your
swaddled
grief

unbound
yourself
Lazarus

come out
and walk
amongst
the living
again

put
down your
stones

the hand
is nigh

choose well
my friend

St. Alban's
Bible Study
7/09

jbm

Cruel Blackness




I want to do the unpopular possibly the scary I want to face the darkness but keep from getting
Lost that is the trick a guide lost is worthless my heart is heavy and it bears the condition of

Despair but not a cheap act or idea that would suit a magic show but to dispel darkness bring
Light out of nothing let it gradually form its unquestionable life sustaining power in the secret

Place prisons that are uncanny and profound easy to enter inextricable impossible to escape
Defeat fate's death chilling breath feeds on your soul until the outer man is no more here is where

Doubt is size less who can measure or plumb its depth the shroud tolls with silent bells if there
Be walls who can tell most would give into panic the sure music of pleasure to the heart of

Darkness within the darkest robe phobia’s all manner of emotional chains are stored quietly as a
Many legged spider they approach the tolling of somber is known it works masterful deigns

That reach thoughts that turn only with ease in a demon’s mind the feign is unreal but as the
Heart is desperately wicked who shall Know it enslaves it own without number you need the

One and only component that knows no fear its price and availability and its origin a mystery it
Is not in League with and on Terms with The tremulous waster that shakes and breaks

Foundations that seemingly have no beginning or end that runs crookedly to the unknown and
Its name is Disaster but it has a master it lives in void fueled world of incomprehension but a

Child can harness its attributes innocent’s forms It out of the nothingness we need it grows
Precipitously formable you start by denouncing your own mind the end of self and you have few

Weighted steps to the door there is no terror as terrifying as dependence on an outcome that you
Have no control over to come and blunder past warning signs that are insoluble is to annihilate

Such a foolish intruder thus the darkness in the first place when your heart is filled with darkness
How do you suppose to find light or life you have chosen death and not even God can wrest it

From your hand only by coming as an Innocent child believing and by having faith all darkness
Vanishes light is contrastive giving congruence to worlds of different languages that without

Faith all is meaningless there is no Intellectual connection possible and the dead remain dead
Because only the spirit can know spiritual things love stands in the offing forever out of reach of

Those who will not put self to death that only lives for earthy while the spirit heavenly the dead
Will be removed to darkness without remedy the living spirit will flash across infinity and will

Truly be the only ones that can pass through that terrifying door and instantly be at home in
Heaven

The terrifying teeth chatter into the crimson lips of a wound up smile, chattering along the very risen table top that draws all small toys to their finite dooms. While breaths sour hour upon hour, each idling ear suffocates the last gasping breaths of its epicurean syllabic tongue, drizzling down the stomach like melt water from a cubic glacier in an ornamental silver tub, and sternly quibbles the stem-like dactyls drawing rose champagne into a fissure of the brain's tumescent humming.

Each finger tips' nail rouge and red, each dry crevice sewn into the knuckles, and a leaflet on sadism near the scratchy illegible lines whittled on the topside of the wrists and the slalom runs of the ankle. The ankle sinister. The ghost-like hallow sockets of where eyes could have once be seen. Plaster and albicant-like dying death white skins forbade from the Flushing streets where the jazz dance once began. And with each nellypotted hop, three useless nuisances could not carry the bridle towards each nearly favorite sound that curiosity enslaved man to lean towards.

The women weirded out by corners, plastic-wrapped furniture in outdoor corridors, where sinners veil their retreats into state run triage centers. Fake plastic countertops built from fake plastic trees. With an M14's muzzle stiffening and shuttering, she who vents off her cured romances will always find herself flaccid on rubber knees. The disease of the plea, is once more an affectation of not falling for royalty but instead the royal we. There is this weapon of fraud that perplexes geneticists, that enslaves heterosexuals, where albeit nor the time or place, she venerates the libations that her mind creates, she lubricates her cells, dressing, her skin ripening, heaven trickling across her humble nape, where gentleness is only a fool's disease and need.

She. We. Heathens of eternity bowing our breaths in grand hyperbole see. I see she, and she sees me.

I see her in the morning.
I think of her in the night.
And all the hours in between,
She enslaves my very sight.

Her shiny black hair
Is like silky waves of night.
Her deep blue eyes
Are portals of mysterious light.

Her smile is magnificent.
Her teeth are always glimmering.
Her body is phenomenal.
Her laughter is always ringing.

She has a corner office.
I have a corner store.
I await the moment every morning
When she opens up my door.

She is perfect
In every single way.
All she has to do
Is everything I say.

She's married with children.
I'm single with none.
She seems so intense,
But maybe she's the one.

She'll be here soon.
What do I do?
I've absolutely, positively
Fallen for Sue!

I'm a fool!
I've fallen into a trap.
Help me find my way.
Can you lend me a map?

She is intoxicating.
She's out of her mind.
She follows me home
And tries to be kind.

She rearranges my furniture.
She decorates my house.
She adores this little puppy
That looks like a mouse.

She whispers and gossips
And whistles and prances.
She sends everyone into
Their own kind of trances.

She tasted better
Than Blueberry wine.
But she sure did crush
This little heart of mine.



Written by: Andrew D. Robertson

When I hold you in my arms what do I feel?
Something I cannot express with words.
It is tenderness that warms my heart.
When I’m injured, your warm phrases heal
Every wound that tortures me and hurts,
Every pain that tears my chest apart.
It is happiness that I do not know how
Makes me fly up high and touch the sky,
Makes me smile when I wake up at dawn.
Everything around gets bright somehow,
And I’m sure this feeling will not die.
What’s inside my heart cannot be gone.
It is peace that everybody needs,
Even those who like to live at strife,
Those who very often draw a sword.
And you show me with your words and deeds
That you wholeheartedly want your life
And my life to be in full accord.
It is passion that inflames my flesh,
And sometimes its fire is so strong
That its tongues can even scorch my bones.
Such a heat is able to enmesh
All my heart and body for so long,
That by touching I can melt the stones.
It is love, a gift sent from a star.
And this feeling is so great and pure,
It enslaves our souls and makes them free.
And in love with me you also are,
That is why I am completely sure
That together we are meant to be.

How unprepared I was when midnight approached me by
Emission of vivid green neon lights
From the futuristic skyscrapers to my unworldly eyes
But more imposing
A suspended meteor in the sky
Upon the decrepit city which never stood
My arrival at Midnight City, my peculiar neighborhood
Thumping tracks and frantic sirens
Bombard tremendous fear in my senses
Amid the resonating pantomime that cracks throughout my head
Merciless cyborgs arrive from nowhere
And threaten mankind with unthinkable weapons
Their bleak empty eyes bring dogmatic order
As my escalated fears enslave me well
Inside the mechanical serpent that darts
With endless slick demented rails
On such a twisted mind, it begins to run
Confused and addled, I have no control of this matter
Only worries dwell my mind
The arrival of this mysterious force is my greatest baffle
Does this herald the degeneration of Gaia?
What is this complex machinery that enslaves all men?
Where does this designate human posterity and fate?
What was done for an act of retribution?
Does this unprecedented apocalypse null all human solutions?

In this dark tunnel, on a decrepit couch
The dauntless train begins to screech with endless laughter
As it tears tempestuously faster and faster
Until all unearthly fluorescent lights blend together
Thumping tracks and frantic sirens
Eighty-six notches louder
Alternating flashes of red and green
Fourteen seconds prior
A silhouette of a white demon projects from afar
As it begins to approach us, its image ever becomes so bizarre
Add a second of suspended silence of jest
Before we scream and ensue
The fatal crash

I light my cigar, from whence comes the nicotine
That blackens my lungs and poisons my blood
But the taste of it becomes a sensational feeling,
A satisfaction to my nicotine enslaved wind-pipe
A huge urge to take it again and again
One after another
An addiction that enslaves me.

I light my cigar, from whence comes the nicotine
That keeps me company all day and night long
An enemy   I cherish and revere
That shortens my days and nights in disguise
One after another
An addiction that takes away my own life.

He manipulate his friends
and eliminate his enemies by
his cunning craftiness.
And he thinks he has won.
He cries wolf before he falls.
There's a mountain between us,
and he can never be like you
for he is darned.
He is not worthy of your friendship.
He belongs to the circle
of the dreaded assassins,
head of the herdsmen,
their creed is deep,
terrible and terrifying indeed.
Fear the one that is horribly terrifying
for he is after your life.
How does this whole thing landed
within you and what shifted as a result.
Run for your life,
he will not have mercy.
Wickedness is wrought in him.
The gull of bitterness and
hatred surrounds him.
He will be consumed by the same
fire he has set.
There's no freedom for the
one who enslaves anyone,
his weakness is made manifest
for he is a coward.
Professing to hate corruption,
he fights it with a slack hand,
and a lying tongue,
a deceiver not to be trusted.
He eats corruption as a bread of sorrow.
Woven around him as a spiders web,
he seeks destruction for the naive
as well as the elite.
The one who cannot publicly address you
but only through another to get
his messages across to those
he proclaimed to rule,
hiding behind the iron curtain,
surrounded by deadly killers.
Never will he rule again even as a
weakling that he is.
He will woefully fail as always,
for he is not knowledgeable and
has no good plans for you.
Wished he's smart enough to see
how dumb he is.
©2018,Emeka Mokeme. All Rights Reserved.

Such deep animosity
I had that
I strongly disliked everything
I was also apprehensive, incompatible, implacable and timid
I had no condulences

In that time in my life
I was caged
Locked into a world
Forced to live a life
I did not want to live
But now I am free
And I shall soar of the wings of an eagle
Until darkness enslaves me
And then in that moment
I will turn to ash

A calm sensation
enslaves me,
soothing my mind
and warming my heart.
For in little time
i will disappear,
easily forgetting
the mundane
regimentation
of daily living.
Light fades
and a mystic shroud of
darkness
fills my sight.

No cares,
no worries,
only the peace
my soul
desires.
Floating on a
manufactured cloud
of comfort;
I finally
slip away
from reality,
and begin another
glorious session,
of sleep.

He was born strong, he had to be,
Lest he sacrifice his anonymity.
A force to be reckoned with within himself
Or was it the all-powerful force that enslaves you and me.
Most fall prey to its whims, not him.
He was wise to their tricks from the start
From every social class it claims its victims
But not he with his invincible heart.

Blame it on who you will
Mom when she popped the pill
Or pops when he gulped his swill
Siblings who plotted the ****
Past lovers who could never fulfill
No - none of the above..He blames himself
He is ill.

To be exposed to the public
Makes him physically sick
The panic sets in, then comes the sweat
Body lurching, losing control (tick, tick)
A second feels like eternity in their sight
He just wants to disappear, take flight.
The social fear, anxiety has a vicious bite.

He doesn't deserve the sad fate
Of which he's found hard to escape.
His heart made of iron walls built around the biggest love one could imagine.
His mind exploding with passion
Ambition, strength, desperation
But the fear that holds him captive
A thick Veil creates
Blinding the world's eyes - that they may never see how great
And how beautiful a mind he possesses.

I wish I could make him famous
It's a shame for him to stay concealed
If you had the honor to know what his name is
Perhaps your broken view of the world would be healed.
Because he has a way of telling a story
That is completely captivating
Equally self-shaming & proclaiming his glory
Leaves you for hours or days his words contemplating.

You can't just turn away & forget
You can't just say no & regret
When his hand is extended for aid
It's the least you can do. How you're made
In God's image, a God of love & kindness
Can't withhold or turn your eye in blindness.

Despite his pervasive surroundings
Of filth & greed & surrender
He finds a way to self-preserve
Or for a friend a favor to render.
Although he himself has nothing
No worldly possessions to claim
Would give his arm & his leg - risk his neck
To save a friend, or even a stranger, HECK!

This sorry poem still does him no justice
Doesn't convey the full picture
His life account could fill volumes
In libraries in every town of every state in this small nation.
See, even I know only a fraction.
Yet without having known him
Who would I be?
What lessons in life would be lacking?
I have him to thank for opening my heart again
Tearing it out violently & replacing it
With even more capacity to love than before.

He should know how many hearts he has touched
How many have stood at a distance & admired his strength.
He should believe that his potential is real, beyond his wildest imagination.
He should feel proud that he brought life into this world, showed someone what love means while all he's known is hate.
That in itself is a miracle.
He's a miracle
He's someone special.
Someone special to me.

While sin enslaves,
Jesus Christ saves,
Why carry around the burdain,
When Christ is willing to carry it for you,for your own gain?
Look,we all fall short of His glory,
We cease to become holy,
But His redemption is always available,
Getting over sins guilt is hard,but its do-able,
Wipe clean your conscience with Christs love,
Not that you'll be as innocent as a dove,
But that your soul will be at peace.
God is a great and forgiving God,He's the reason for this piece.
Jesus Christ saves.

The sun rose & set 6 times
Before collapse put to rest
               This mess that is me
  Dreams plead in vein for my
Eyes to open cleansed & sane
                           Sweet screams
  Ghosts whisper Ill prophecies
Just beside and behind me
    My pale outer shell drifts
  Deeper into the darkness
                          That enslaves me
  A soul yearns to flee when it finds
Home has long since been traded
                             For a hole
  I feel your arm around me
And hear your prayers and loving word
  But I need a cure for apathy
or a break from this theater of the absurd
                             Come, be blessed
  Well,If He exists He doesn't talk to this fiend
God, has from me, long ago abscessed
                                Make way
   The only ghosts that haunt me
Are the shadows that lead me
                                          Astray.

end me
I seek beyond the limits of fate
veins
I am long gone from paradise
getting everywhere but nowhere
I need to dig two graves
carve one stone the air to share
fear is the tongue of human
freedom becomes my sin
I seek beyond the limits of fate

I am my own anxiety
our thoughts turned out
twisted minds
find a way to get along
get away to find amongst

I am long gone from paradise
getting everywhere but nowhere
gaps and cracks I couldn't see
in the wild endless ocean ahead of me
I'd let the sun breathe me in
shelter my true fear
Burnt enslaves in my own frame
I'm bursting out of my seams

I seek beyond the limits of fate veins

I am my own anxiety
our thoughts turned out
twisted minds
find a way to get along
get away to find amongst

hollow earth
the core i seek
the end of me

how could there be nobody
to help me at the end of me

A sixth day ,perfect hand work of Yahweh,
                                is a game for another Adam,
                men,turn their lands into blood banks,but i pray
   mankind lost through,the acts of evil men ,be received in the bosoms of      
                                             Abraham
        
                       wicked, heartless, evil, unscrupulous,unforgiving
                           is what they prefer to be called,soulless beings
                                       3D characters of call of duty
                                humanity enslaves its self with hypocrisy


                          knifes,guns,tanks, table set,they feast over human
                               a dinner of no conscience and and of no guilt
                                        even with cry  a for freedom

love is an untamed force......
when we try to control it .....
it destroys us....
when we try to imprison it it enslaves it......
when we love someone with the expectation of being loved in return its  wasted .....
LET IT BLOOM........LET IT SPREAD ITS FRAGRANCE......LETZ SIMPLY LOVE.....

When scars are met with deeper wounds.
Crimson lava pours off her head.
What hurts the most is the same that mends.
her guilt was the tears she once shed.

The saviour owns the whips,
he adds to her body more scorges,
and with his sweet lips,
platonic innocent love he forges.

Courageously, she challenges the sun.
With her eyes she enslaves nature.
Sometimes it's bright, others it's dun,
especially on her departure.

Her life is a forest that always rains,
not close to a neoclassical garden.
In her absence nothing remains,
for she is one of a kind maiden.

When scars are met with deeper wounds.
Crimson lava pours off her head.
What hurts the most is the same that mends.
Her guilt was the tears she once shed.

The saviour owns the whips,
he adds to her body more scorges,
and with his sweet lips,
platonic innocent love he forges.

The bitterly sweet seclusion
Sit the soul free of the jabbering drones
of those corners of such mess
The mind's noise may flow
outside the quiet enclosure of these walls
Rejuvenate the self
as no intruders may interrupt
The beating of the heart
conducts the ticking into the night
Yet, until the harmless flow drifts unwillingly off its course
into that realm of overwhelming angst
Suddenly the state of one witched the dark to light its path
of which aimlessly walked alone
But the heart bursts with the pressuring passion
to sync such a setting
with that of a curious walker-by
Gloomily no steps heard from the intimidating outside
All that echoes is the fading notes of yesterday's piano
Oh that reminiscent tune
The plucking harp of a shining, graced spirit
now an irrelevant concocted sound
falling so suddenly short of a masterpiece
That song that enslaves the head
as if calling for an encore, before the conductor even raises his baton  
So the art of the writer's hand is clenched still
by the frigid hold of the past
and guiding the pen's strokes through the only script it believes
The same story pathetically scribbled every night
in ridiculous hopes of a greater ending