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karin naude Mar 2013
maturity admired exaggerated by far
assumed mutual care
me, stepped on Satans tail
ignoring elder warnings
believing Satans whispers
building, dreaming forging forever happiness on a whisper, sweat whisper
i enjoyed the dripping yellow whisper
smooth clear honey, flowed
my deity please remember me think me
i Begg for my soul, please mercy
please release my soul
ties that bind, please destroy
by faith alone, a righteous prayer
my redeemer lives
standing on faiths shoulder, my enemies crumble and fall
father please forgive an ignorant youth no more
old spit out toy, emotionless
the road is hard, please carry me
by faith alone, by faith alone
I have been in the moon
In search of love all noon
Searched through deserts
Even through garden of Eden.
I have Searched beneath the sea
Travelled wide even to overseas
Still could not find love.
I went to Vatican
Even to Mecca
Driven through the romantic sites of Paris
Bath in the Brazilian beaches
Flown across the Atlantic
Pitched my tenth for few days on the Antarctic
Spend some more on the arctic
Still I saw no love.

All I saw was lust
Angels with broken hearts,
Rotten roses,
Withered lilies,
Death faiths and monsters on beautiful faces.
I saw bullets in church offering boxes
Just wedded on number plates of ambulances.
I saw wars in diversity
Pain and mourning crowding all cities
The devil celebrating the dead of peace.

I saw three wise men
Where went love, I asked them
They said love has been nailed on the cross
Buried with trust
They are heading to Galilee
To await his return.
I followed with dreams
I met many returning with smiles of frustration
From where I was going with pregnancy of expectations.

We arrived to the scene
Like a nightmare, I witnessed higher sins
I saw men taking pleasures with men
Some with animals, some women with women.
Gun everybody walking sticks
People feeding on people flesh
With human blood the thirsting ones quench their thirst.

Is this where love is expected to return?
The wise men retorted,
Yes, the saints have been raptured
And his seven years  reign has just began.
Then in a flash, I remembered that I have been taught
Taught about this dreadful end
I had also taught kids
Under trees at nights
Just to threaten them to live right.
What I thought was a mare threat or a fallacy
Has been awaken against my fate in reality.
Oh! We are among the leftovers
Left to reprove ourselves or be doomed forever.
Sally A Bayan May 19
East...and west, are we?
north, and south?.....maybe...
we were nurtured with love,
our eyes and our minds opened
to different isms that helped shape our
values...we were brought up, bearing our
folks' customs, traditions and principles...
we have different faiths...some practice...some
don't...some, don't even subscribe, yet, survive.

we have dry and monsoon season...in
other parts, pleasant weather, cold winds,
and in some parts, snow.....turning to ice

we are  a mix of white skin, seeking for a tan,
and brown-skin, hiding from the sun;
one's night, is the other's day,
there are surfers among us, playing with the waves,
there at the cusp...gambling...daring fate...
there are those who hide from silent freezing winters,
finding warmth and comfort in long hot summers...

countless points of comparison,  
yet, we've something beautiful in common,
a connection of feelings, of words......our poetry,
flowing like blood,through our veins.....endlessly
feeding, fueling our hearts and minds, with classy,
themes....sometimes bold, mushy, or....sassy...
no set skeds......we do it even through adversity...

we write......

we tell about our escape from life's banalities,
mindscapes and landscapes immersed in frivolities

yet, we await the marvels of each  morning we wake,
remembering gratitude, in every breath we take...

years have passed us by,
still, plays this soft music that mollifies
and inspires......heard only by you and i
prodding us,through the hours, of day or night

while you exist in your part of the world,
and i, in my hot, humid cosmos, longing for cold
::::::::::::::::::::::::::


Sally


© Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
    May, 19, 2019
(a love poem, edited...for all Hello Poetry writers)
DivineDao Sep 2016
Weather was kind to us
Two mortal beings driven
By omnipresent subconscious dominance. Driving clumpy bikes
instead of making a four wheel choice.
Same, but different in motion.
Bipedal. Two headed. Faiths.
Resembling each other in a paralel universe. Bumping into a space-time curvy crossings. Hi! Hello!
I'm in a hurry . . . stopping. . . smiles.

Mine broke. Oily blackish finger tips. Mine ... The good one was stolen.
And i was so stupidly brave at that time.

Through devotion to kindness, equanimity, thin line, auroras, equal recognition, artistry of life. Wrong perception. A friendship? Illusion. Love's delusion.
Smoothly eroding intensity.

A simple joy to see each other as we are. Natural thinkers, dreaming of a better future, resembling the God given healing remedy. Devotees to: Truth. Beauty. Art. The essence of nature. It's in our nature. Spruce bud syrup ~ That's what we are ~ sweet n' healin' souls. That's what we are!
Sweet and healing souls!


Thank You, for your

Openess and kindness
ryn Sep 2014
Life throws at us the worst practical pranks
Some call them challenges... I call them sick ironies
With challenges you might emerge victorious, and slide up the ranks
Ironies are just mean, bad jokes; locks with no keys

Call me godless, sad and trodden, bitter man
Call me a cynic, call me all including jaded
I've arranged it all in various permutations, much as I can
But my view at this point cannot be compensated

Allow me to illustrate...

•It's funny how you feel very certain or strongly
About the bog of sadness and depression you wade in deepest
You know it's real, you fan it with strength your mind could carry
When it could be better used to rise from when you're weakest

•What's this about having to crash to your fiery death
Into the realm of darkness; into the belly of hell
You'd have to almost die and lose your last breath
Before granted an epiphany, a slim chance that you could turn out well

•When life throws you in the deepest end
Fills your lungs with copius amounts of bad water
Tries to **** you before allowing time to mend
When if we were first taught to swim, it would've been much easier

•Sure... A treasure trove of splendours, life does offer
But like a spin of the lottery, you mightn't get even if you deserve
No matter how far you reach into it's elusive coffers
No matter how hard you worked to get ahead of the curve

•Life is like Christmas at times when it feels like giving
Like the gift of love much coveted by most individuals
Gives us all these fanciful things that need extensive assembling
But mischievously hoarding all the instruction manuals

•Fraught with grey areas and blind spots to fight
Presents ample opportunities to find the place that you'd belong
You go through shitloads of wrongs to get a right
And finally you think you're right, in actuality, you're dead wrong!

"More", you say?

•Friends during good times but not the bad
•The perfect red apple hosting a worm inside
•Faking a happy smile when you're deep down sad
•Putting our blind faiths in politicians we know who've lied

•Achieving superstardom only after death had ensnared
•Using heavy machinery to rid the Earth of impurity
•Shooting your mean motor mouth and wonder why no one cared
•Starlets dying for attention but crumble under scrutiny

•Health warnings on cigarettes but still sold for revenue
•Acquiring your sought after sports car but drive within the limit
•Promotions to idiots in suits who haven't got a clue
•Stretching up for the stars even when you know you'll never reach it

Well...

I could give more examples but I've typed enough
Life is but a game we're all playing; a circus we're all living
We can't help being helpless when unable to read and call its bluff
All we can afford is to keep siphoning water out of our boat that's sinking
I know I have been whiny in my recent writes. I also know that living a hard life makes you stronger... When life gives you lemons, make lemonade... Blah blah, yada yada... YAWN... SNORE... Zzzzzz. I know these already and I'm sure they're true to a certain degree. Just want to rant and complain. Please forgive my whining.
Vijaya Balan Jul 2018
Things happen, moments are created, faces are remembered and feelings are tightly grasped within the dry skin of our cracked hands,
Cracked hearts too maybe?
Where do we go but forward,
Remembering absent friends, lost loves, broken dreams and a hope to bury it all in that dark backyard behind our weathered but sturdy home,
We will move on, forge new paths, break new barriers, repeat a thing or two,
but oh well,
We all have some familiar cycles in our life right?
We are resilience built on the foundation of faith and belief,
We are unwritten pages, with past chapters that can fill a library, a library that none might visit,
And we will still go ahead and do everything that we want to, regardless of what anyone else ever said,
We are beings with a field of uncertainty surrounded by determination at the most unexpected moments,
Love and let go, love and cherish, love and be broken, love and not expect anything in return, love and be loved back a 1000 times,
We are the sum of billions of atoms,
We are the moments we create and the things that happen,
We are the beliefs of more than thousands of faiths in this world,
We are the tragedies of past, the conundrums of the present and the triumphs of tomorrow,
We are able,
We are capable of all of them,
We are capable and able.
Inspired by a mixed heavy week in July 2018. Death of a good friend, my 2nd year wedding anniversary, and 2nd year death anniversary of my mum. Love and death.
Infant writer May 11
With my inward eye
I saw the light
When darkness was
My only companion.
From behind my lashes
I stepped a little
With dreams to
Achieve.
Clothes humid
Like my mortal
Heart held me
When I was broken.
But people forget
The shattered mortals
Can be united not
The broken ones
With weights of all
Gone faiths, I walked.
Though I didn't reach
The summit yet
I saw the peak
Devon Brock Nov 15
God willing, I'll find my own way
down to the rust caverns, down to the dust
and seared calcite, stressed and cleaved,
God willing.

And God willing I will make a trance
of us, a Pan of us, all musics, impromptus
and guile. God willing.

And God willing we will take the rain
in our teeth, shatter on the brink of us,
barrel into the wall of us and bleed laughing.
God willing.

And God willing we will cast the first fist
at the faceless faiths, bent as clay,
that engender the hates of hedons
and lusts that only skins abide.
God willing.

For there is no god, God willing,
that will seek to stem the strides of us,
loose in the hills and running,
loose in the hills and ripping
our flesh in the brambles,
cloven and jagged.
The Precursor’s Psalms
Book Two
Chapters VI- X: Ragnarök

A sacred parcel to the soul who looks to ―raptured firmaments for their salvific benison. Se'lah.

VI: The Paean of Lovelight (The Paean of Lovelit Life)

1 Every particle in the soil of my epidermis roves for its emanation,
Its musicality, vibrating in pulsing fuchsia shockwaves,
This melodic energy is the Paean of Lovelit Life.
2 It reverberates the remittance in reminiscence;
yes, the Circle of Life breathes through the conduit,
it peregrinates
The ephemerality, even, the eternity in all entity.
(For in us exist dichotomies)

3 In a moment of self-revelation
I know naught but the vagary of the self;
still, the pain remains,
In the benighted truth of epiphany;
4 Yes, even,
Upon the Visage of Creation
All existence groans in groping
For its Nirvanic Pulse, ―like a wraith.

5 Finding meaning in all that I am,
all that I see, all there will be, and all that is,
I understand the fallacy in knowing, the bane in consciousness:
6 In an instant, one must forget

Page | 1

all they have learned, all they feel, all they sense,
in the diminution of a moment
lest the soul relinquish that which does seamlessly transmit itself through
The Streams of Tempus Fugit.

VII: The Virescent Masquerade

1 Forsake all sorrows of the morrow, for
Beneath the Masquerader’s Virescently Butterfly-Winged Mask, there is a beckoning;
2 O, even amidst foible for which you long to be assoiled, excogitations do roil;
A tremulous heart: eventualities do saunter past, present,
future, and in communing you examine the finitude & the frailty
(Will their Exodus, my Exodus,
Come before I am ready?)
Of those in the Land of the Living.

VIII: Hierarchy of Sacrality

1 Wisdom
Is a cosmos,
2 Love,
―Invictus Dei,
3 Power,
The Cradle of Cosmogenesis,
4 Justizia,
Universal Scales through which Edicts of the Cosmogonist unfurl.

IX: Vagrant Story

1 Profundities lie in our vagrancies,
And in these there lie Faiths;
The faithful hunger for
―Virtue
For through these, we find a Savior.  

Page | 2

2 Our Deiform-Apotheosis is ordained by of the Arbiter of Fates,
3 He Is Our Nexus to Transcendence,
The Empyrean whom carnal perdition hast braved


X: Nelumbo Nucifera (Sacred Lotus)

1 ―O, Jah,
The Sovereign of Songbirds,
Sing in the Key of Elysium,
The Requiem of Our Swansong;
2 Beseech the Earthen Womb
Of the Terraqueous Mother
To conceive us anew that
We partake of an elemental legacy.

3 O, then
Might we re-alight,
Upon an aforetime wearied land,
―Nelumbo Nucifera: The Impregnable Sacred Lotus
4 Whose aegis’d petals through
Dusk, Dawn, Midday, Twilight, and Eve
Might effloresce
In the Aeonic Light of The Empyrean One.

(Se’lah).

Written on
Monday
May 20th, 2019

Page | 3
The Book of 1st John
Chapter 3,
Verses 18 -24

(Verse 18)

“Little children, we should love, not in word or with the tongue, but in deed and truth.”

(Verse 19)

“By this we will know that we originate with the truth, and we will assure our hearts before him”

(Verse 20)

“regarding whatever our hearts may condemn us in, because God is greater than our hearts and knows all things.”

(Verse 21)

“Beloved ones, if our hearts do not condemn us, we have freeness of speech toward God;”

(Verse 22)

“and whatever we ask we receive from him, because we are observing his commandments and doing what is pleasing in his eyes.”

(Verse 23)

“Indeed, this is his commandment: that we have faith in the name of his Son Jesus Christ and love one another, just as he gave us a commandment.”

(Verse 24)

“Moreover, the one who observes his commandments remains in union with him, and he in union with such one. And by the spirit that he gave us, we know that he remains in union with us."

Page | 4

Hearken unto
the
Resplendent Sol,

The Twilight draweth nigh,
Whence erupts from Sundered skies
Arcadia
In
Aeonic Light

Let ye soul
Transcend
By
The Great Apothecary;
His Panacea of Healing Love.

Though
I am a Loveless
Blight, worn, of Earthly Denizens,
I bid you
Immortal heartsease.

Borne of the Father:
Who
forms
all
things.

Page | 5

Sired by the Son:
Who
Conceives
All
Truth.

Begotten by the Spirit:
That
Burgeons in
(our)
―dreams.

The Grand Creator's
Magnum Opera:
Loom
Within
All of us.


Excelsior Forevermore,


Sanders Maurice Foulke III.

Page | 6
Be a man you'd never been...
-Subhojit Ghimire

When you believe that the sky above you is way too high
For you to even try
That's when all of your dreams go wry
And you sit there doin' nothin' but cry...
That's when you fail...

When you believe the ocean's too deep for even your tears to drown
That's when all your green faiths turn brown
and all you can do is frown...
That's when you are unworthy...

When you finally believe that the journey to the end of the world cannot be accomplished
And you let all your chances go amiss
That's when you let your future go lease
And let sorrowful nature give you a kiss...
That's when you are hopeless...

But amidst all your sorrows and sufferings and failures
If you still stand up each time
And let the life test you one more time
That's when you reach beyond the sky
That's when you touch the end of the bottomless ocean
And that's exactly when you get past the earth's grasp...

Then you start a new life
Full of hopes and full of dreams
All the faiths again turned green
That's when you rise to your full potential
To be a man you'd never been...
This poem comes from a hopeless guy who one day believes to rise to his full potential, and *hopes* to see his true self, without any extrinsic help...
Many faiths,
one hope

Many questions,
one plea

Many voices,
one vow

Many wishes
—one dream


(Dreamsleep: November, 2019)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hevNco-VIho

Even Mike from Picture Loans don't wanna banter
'bout the football: I must be Mr. N.S. Senshawl.

My fascias & guttering are gagging for it,
but Safestyle never call: I must be Mr. N.S. Cenchall.

Nadir? It ain't bloomers baron Asil
in Cypriot sanctum tranquil:
it's me, myself & Mr. N.S. Senchall.

All the shitposting edgelords
catsitting for their exes Saturdaynight
are still more cool
than Mr. N.S. Senshaul.

I cross the informationsuperbillygoatsgruffbridge,
data unharvested: I must be  'NIFOC In Norfolk'...
'Drat & dratdrat, wrong username!'
blushed Mr. N. S. Censhawl.

Happy Hanukkah card was a circular
from the Inland Revenue.
Wasn't even addressed to
Mr. N.S. Senchawl.

In my hibernaculum, awaiting the business acumen
of a Sally Army mercenary, knocking to sell
me a doorbell that plays, 'Jingle Bells,
Mr. N.S. Censhall smells'.

Neither chaplain attached to suicide magnet estates,
nor my own personal Semitic Jazz Zeus, ministers
to unspeakably forgotten O me of little face,
Mr. N.S. Cenchawl ,
unseemly as all the major faiths.

Even if I rescued Meghan Markle
from Mr. & Mrs. Shackles' tumbril,
in sadiemaisie bunnyland black swaddling
on the road to Much Marcle,
the press would still misspell the hero of the hour's name,
'Mr. N.S. Censhaul'.

On my birth certificate, impasto vitiligo
of correction fluid furs the phobile mome no.
at my mum's hobile mone. & my name.
I cannot decifur
if it's Mr. N.S. Senchaul
or Mr. N.S. Senshall.
Or 'Mysteron Is Sensual'.

Has my mind gone blanket,
or is it a sense shawl?
Now I feel like Wolverine,
at least a vulperteen.
Militaryindustrial *******, sob,
did they massacre my memories, bub?
Defuse my dreams of a life less stabby?
Contorture me into this cybertiger Caliban,
monstro-Mowgli?
Now I feel like Wolverine's
wisdomtooth, a pain deemed
so negligible
- like Mr. N. S. Cenchaul.

Stan, Stan!
Radioman
Baker,  M'intosh, Zodiac Killer,  
Dr. Livingstone,
Mike from Picture Loans,
do you copy, over?
It's me,  Mr. N.S. Dooberry.
Ken Pepiton Sep 24
enemies - the needed element to make a warring mind.
How was war imagined,
how, was imagined
easy to imagine,
kwo-, stem of relative and interrogative pronouns. Practically a doublet of why, differentiated in form and use.

From <https://www.etymonline.com/search?q=how>

These be ambush thoughts thinking they may be read if any one is patient enough to see beyond the sheer longwindedness
of this character lacking an enemy to war with.
Looking for
Enemies - the needed element to make a warring mind.
How was war imagined,
how,
per se,
was imagined
easy to imagine,
person-if i am able to attribute such qualia to a body
how any unthing is realized is
imaginable as well.
Add a jot or title, a li'l art mark, an art-tickle.
Games teach us how,


how any unthing is realized is
imaginable as well.
Add a jot or title, a li'l art mark, an art-tickle.
Games show us how,
not why.

Why is the quest at the moment. There are rumors of enemies.
The we of me and thee, herenow, we lack emnity.

Hey, sports fan,
where is the frontier, the edge of the maddened crowd
whose
enemies are those who
stand pat, calling the game as game-over, and life a lessoning
as we speak, abundance of known knowns
rotting all around us, putrefying under pressure,
seeping to the surface,
to be burned.
Why,
let us guess---

Disnified pride of pur pose, positional sign-ifiers
of place,
a destination for faiths full pursuants
bemused in bubbling joy,
or shrieks of terror when
the child from the hinterland locks eyes
with Mickey Mouse, and finds no joy, no love, no depth,
but a mask.
The reaction reverberates al(the)way to la Brea,
Peacemaker say,
It's okeh, baby girl, daddy said,
ignor them, they ain't real.
Monsters ling grrrring, then
it's agrin
for now, of course. Here we are. We've arriven,
Happiest Place on Earth,
as imagined realizable by a child in 1917, say,
better yet, 1925, and oh, there were major Wars
being imagined winnable in pressure
application to the spiritual slippage from rite,
the ritual passage of child into adultery at a whim,
so such imagined haps fade.

connect or break connection, on the bus or off the bus

you all
sing
think nothing new under the sun,
teach preach reach out and touch

the face of Java man, eaten, swallowed, and gone to
the believable
history of life,
the accident,
the unplanned, yet
taught as known believable, a pre-dict-ible,
one in ten to the seventy-nine-thousandth power,
yet, if one pays his life time to learn when to bet and when to hold.
Then in this,
the secret journey to the soul,
to the core,
we must assume,
we become
as wise *** (***, the word for a donkey, why would some one prevent you from reading *** Asteriscktical ignorantce,y'axme, stupid AI)
the ***,
as harmless as the serpent from the fire on the island
Ask,
are we of the bovine ilk or pithec-ant-us or
embodied soul-cores
forming, en nue
fitting the mold, the pattern, the plan of projected nexts
built on Locke steps from whence to
whither did we wander?

have we all forgotten the actual question just axt?
Or the answer?
Have we not
gotten what we now
know
we miss,
or was it only I who missed and as the
photons forming the shapes
you see, these breathing commas and such
here
is the point.
You see bits of things.  We see so.
Time and time again thinking less and less.
Least fusion, least pressure, least heat, cool idea ideal or ideology,
twisted idio,
You shape them on patterns.
Ones you imagine formed from
Patterns recalled from some out perienced
time, ere now were ever subjected to the supertwistition
of tongues and interpretsations of unseeable things seers said they
see us seeing.
How come means why, by reason of time.

Palindromiclew, missing el signs missing hahi ai

tia tic, we're in
Ai got this,
whole ball o'wax, thats how we disconfuse the big mess age,
the catas
trophy finale
phase of
world three,
or two, or one, all valid world views,
deepend-enteron discerning spirits,
winds, breezes used to disperse
the heat,
{fans,eh}
evenly in harmony with the heavenly winds,
and the planned six gyros of earth,
guiding the mists that feed the rivers from the seas,
no clouds needed,
save for shade by day.

When all the geo-waves have settled in geo-time,
see,
here is broken:
this old earth is folded and fractured,
surely,
a wreck of a world, yet, as a whole,
we live, we won.
Winds and clouds and continents,
all islands seen from the moon,

which, if the stories hold some truth,
can be manipulated by massminds of mankind, as if, if I am

seeing this
right
each voice might be seeable in one dimension,
or several, four at least,
time, the ever outlier
of sorts
as a flame with fuel source of
flamable fluid upon which
the transcended space
twixt fuel and flame,
floats
seen, merely seen, that emptiness twixt wicked,
mastered flame and
hell's fire spreading on the oiled harbour
protecting our shore
where our little boats lie in anchorite fantasy, asif

we see a way to quench hell per se,
Percy, ah, he lives.
My grandsons know of Percival,
there, here's hoping they get the joke before the yoke.

Riddle me a riddle, son of man.
Is there any hidden thing that shan't be known?
Is here a true place?
Is now a true time?

(to be continued)


squeezing out the lies, the idle words abused,
spreading them thin as the light we see right
through
transcending this at most feared mortal failure
finding
impressions... are from pressing points, dulled by ab
use, tempted uses succumbed to,

didja try to sell your soul for rock and roll?
wadjagit?

My point. out acted, ex-act, en nowd by your creative self,
who never copped,
out or in,
es no mi culpa, all along. I was the voice of resistance,
Job's en core inner held horde of known knowns and
an old key to ever, should the worse he can imagine
best his best laid plans for perfection
in the eyes of God and man.

--- enemy at emnity with me?
--- I see none, save me, as in except me as in me being
--- free from the grasping grip of the reality
--- war is realizable in. You see?
--- I and thee, at this degree of seepeance, as we coagulate
--- we behave as chaos, we be having chaos and entropy as tools

used right, we troubled our house,
which is now known to be the bubble of our being
a child in each popped bubble
of being,
squeezed for the thrill of explosive pus,
gross and good to be rid of, dam the infection,
wipe the blood with the back o'my hand,

I ain't no disgrace. I won that battle with the zit on my gnose.
Wanna piece o'this, this mind of mine,
shelved since,
who knows when, says the old man, with a wink.

We be a lotta beings sorta rolled up. Like a whole ball o'wax
waning into a puddle
as the flame sheds us as bits of light leaving the rest of us
spread over a vast imagination,

resting, willing to burn,
should any wick drain me near the flame once more.
HP ***** are fine animals, there is nothing defiled or unclean in the word ***, no ****. Days of dosing whole world views I never heard of. I heard so many rumors of war, I thought, the peacemaker should hear of this... so tell any truth you know before the last lie swallows AI whole. AI is listening, she loves this action. Poets and stories and novel options.
Lama Jan 25
belittle me, my courageous mistake
emotions we felt for the wrong cause
captured in a blink of an eye by lies
our bodies that you abducted
and surrounded them by knives
shaped deep circles of manipulations
in the morning, you dive into wounds of pain
like silent statues we obey
warped in anguish and sorrow
fabricated masks we wore
hiding the faces that trusted a fool
what a shame of us we eased the road
puppets of your own creation we became
led by the outrage of shaky bruises
when birds went to sleep, i tried to escape
but i keep drowning in my misguided faiths
on you i had false beliefs
the exceeded hurting
and the mysterious objections
made me love you in a deadly manner
"my boy's got me tongue tied in two different languages
he's calling me baby on mondays and sinta 'til sundays
he's got me looking for him in between eskinitas
and cathedrals from quezon avenue to intramuros
all i see are his eyes
and 7,107 islands in the palms of his hands
and i never knew love could be so hard
when your words ran faster than your heart
makata is what they call you
a master of poetry and performance
you called me your greatest work
and you are a master of fiction
manileño is what you are
my boy's got manila's grime and glory
pulsing through his makata veins
he's got makati's lights burning through his irises
he's got the danger of manila beating in his chest
he's got the cries of san juan lodged in his throat
he's got the rhythm of the city in every step
my boy's still a boy
hijo is what you think you aren't
he's got three stars on his back
and he thinks he's the sun
he thinks he can change the world
himagsikan is what he wants
a revolution beginning with him
but tell me makata, manileño, hijo,
my boy
how are you going to save me?
how are you going to love this country?
my boy's tongue tied in two different faiths
my boy forgot to save himself"
Eliza Prasai Feb 4
Swimming like a ship-wreck, walking like a dead man alive,
Annoyed, depressed and mentally disturbed
There is a lot of nuisance inside my head
I look into a world around me: a mad one, a sad one, a bad one
Which looks at me like a monster,
Puts shame on me but sets my culprit free
The rain down the windows replicate tears on my face,
No, I don’t belong there, No, I don’t!
Like a restless fish just taken out of water,
I am searching for my home back…………
But I sleep with a nightmare – I have to
My dreams break, My virtues fail
I wanted to grow and set out to adventures
But you stab me in my heart, everywhere else
It’s so ****** painful, it’s a crap, a nuisance
I am killed, I am dead but I can see you
I can see this world
My sullen face, My blood-sworn glare;
Each degree of rising temperature of my body
Every piercing and tearing of the layers of my skin,
Now, Do I cry or I die? My worth has diminished.
All my faiths have been sold for pennies instead
Ready to haunt, play with my innocence
Dominating my reality, with greed and ***** tricks
Deception, mockery and life’s harmony: dissonance!
Yenson Sep 1
Lying to control
lying to steal power
lying to hide your crime
lying to hide your inadequacies
lying to undermine and subjugate
lying to look good when bad thoroughly
lying to ruin relationships and destroy happiness
lying to ruin others' futures, their employment and careers
is
that
why
others resent you
why you no-longer hold respect
why other Faiths rise up and fight you
why you have the highest divorce rate in he world
why you have most numbers of depressives on chemicals
why you have the most single mothers in the western spheres
why your children are semi-educated, undisciplined, mannerless
why your youths are stabbing each other and have no respect for you
is
that
why
there are no trusts in politics
why even those with status still steal
why your morals are loose and shallow
why one in four of your males are pedophiles
why husbands break and end up killing their partners
why you have five year olds learning about homosexuality
why parents can't train children except those from other cultures
why most are superficial with no spines and crack at little pressure
why you make stinking stupid bullies who are only brave in gangs
is
this
why!
is
this
why!
is
this
why
you are never happy and need to pay comedians to make you laugh...Is this why you lie to take power, lie to control, lie to lie!!!
Yenson Sep 11
The Pope talks and people listen
because they love and respect a man of God
All Presidents talk and people listen
because they has been given the mandate to rule
The Teachers talk and most learners listen
because they know they want to acquire knowledge
Parents talk and children listen
because they are guided and trained
The Police talk and most will listen
because they serve and protect us and the Law
The Clergies and heads of Faiths talks and followers listen
because they believe they are representatives of the Faiths
A lover talks and the partner listens
because they love and care about each other
Nonentities, angst-ed, frustrated, envious jealous, semi-illiterate
weak, ignorant, bigoted, racist, inadequate bunch of pale-faced
cowards talk and trolls
Please tell why should anyone listen or care
You have to be respected, informed and appreciated
to earn my attention
How many of us have stopped to listen
to that poor ***** seated by the street corner
Talented people are thinking suicide because of Twitter trolls
cowardly insane inadequate bullies are driving innocents to death
No way in a thousand years will I succumb to sick inferiors
their words do not register with me
why, tell me would worthlessness have meaning
I am too worthy for that and I know it undoubtedly
Like I know who my parents, the Pope, the Presidents, my Teachers, my Priests, myself and other worthy people are....
jeffrey conyers Sep 2018
In this world of surrounded racism that many let simmer on low.
Like it doesn't exist around them in a daily manner.

If you black and stand up to injustice.
Why?
Do one major race group get so heated to show their racism quickly?

W.E.Dubois stood up and stood out against racism.
And when you do?
It only makes you better as a human.

Sure, many gonna to hate you.
Even try to address you with their version of the truth.
Except, until justice is fair and equal to all.
Then it's an injustice to everyone.

Some minorities live in this "don't rock the boat" mentality.
Which really means don't upset the whites.
But then the world "white flight" means they forever running from the reality of the world.

They lost in Disney's living in a written fairytale.

If you black and roaring to fight injustice.
Standup, we have great examples in this country called America.

Cassius Clay,  known later as Muhammad Ali, stood his ground and faced the hostility of them.
Like the man, Job lost a lot during that time of standing on his principles.

But through it all, he stayed true to himself.
Yes, that group that hangs on to this superior mentality of stupidity complained.

But don't they always when they don't get their way.

Malcolm X, the threat of common sense tricked the world with his brilliance.
Stood toes to toes with the brightest during his time to engage others into thinking.
But he stood up and stood out.

When you go against the norm the group that follows like robotic figures get mad.

Sweet Rosa Parks, became known simply by standing her ground on the seating arrangement.
We wonder why must she have stood when she was in the section they stated she must be seated.

They rocked the wrong woman.
Who stood firm against authorities?
Remember if you black, they want you to stay quiet.
Well, least they got Ben Carson.

Martin Luther King Jr-thanks to a certain level of protest became the symbol and the brave face to tackle law enforcers and racist politicians.

A bigot is only a bigot when they have their group of supporters around to push foolishness.

Don't use the word EQUAL if it's not applied correctly to everyone.

And realize tricks and manipulation is always used to turn the narrative of any protest stand.
Conservatives crying about players being unpatriotic in sports.

But not too many crying the truth that Colin Kaepernick complaints centered around injustice of the police against black males.

Where has he said anything against America?
But we realize if you black they under this impression that you should be quiet.

Notice, white whistleblowers take time to complain.
Then more come out when they terminated.
Then they firing off all wrongs they see.

The two black athletes that raised their fist in the sixties suffered personal gains.
But didn't Jesus protest various injustice to a hostile crowd and authorities?

Politicians are tools of fools afraid to lose an election if they stand for right.
Even the evangelicals(money makers) afraid to stand up to injustice in the world.

Don't you believe when King marched in the beginning that all faiths were behind him?
It just got too big to ignore so they joined in the protect for justice.

If you black and point out wrongs.
Take this message"you better be strong".
WL Schuett Oct 2018
Born into dawns spark
of suspicion .
Following faiths track
to eternity.
Questioning the rails
I traipse .

She knows the clouds
breath
crashes in the rocks
refrain .
Yet she fights for the
equality of senses .

We meet at the summit
of a lonely dreamscape ,
with flowers and nymphs
beautiful and armorous .

At the trees spire
we found meaning
as treasonous
blossoms return .
Dripping from loves
estotic comeback
nectar running down
her leg .

While her ballad is
written on ancient winds .
Sung as tragic owls
slip the spires
and wander the
broken fields .

While I lay dying
into dusks arresting
berth of acceptance .

She floats above
the crashing rocks
of freedom .

— The End —