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The denigration of western society has been slowly been created by ourselves, we are the cog within the machinery. Anonymously we have in turn allowed ourselves to become part of the problem. We are silenced by those who had the loudest mouths who really say nothing at all. We live in awe of respect for those who have the power to change the world but do not. Though we as the majority have the power to do so, but have no self-belief. We are innately bound to this oppressive weakened society where capitalism and consumerism have become our churches and our footballers and celebrities are our saints. Never could they sin as bad as your brother or your sister, yet you would pay some media company to know it all, to see that their problems are your problems, that you are part of their world, that you secretly yearn for a place in this world that is more than what you have accepted. Because yes, you accepted this life. You accept this is the way life is, that you should suffer and be manipulated by greed and power. And to think how frustrating that is, that you accepted this, and however much you hate it, you feel powerless to do anything about it.

And what of love and passion? Even altruism has become anti-altruistic “he/she’s only doing it for the fame/power/money";  it quickly becomes a commodity. Where are the true lovers, the true passionate keepers of dreams and firer of fireworks? They are ostracised by society. They work in jobs we class as thankless tasks. They keep close company with people of their own kind however they are our key to being happier, they love equally and fully. They represent what many of us spurn but secretly wish to be or what we want. Freedom to act, to be individual, ‘to break free from the chains that bind us’. We are constrained by a secret institution, where ‘they’ are our gods. We live by their rules. It is in our minds. Positive mental attitude never hurt anyone, only fear and fear of fear, leading to hurt, anger, control has always been consistent when looking at manic depressive societies – when the only time we get truly excited is when a major chain store brand has a major boxing day sale.

Oh to think we don’t belong to anyone – we can actually be who we want to be, how freeing is that? To think that we don’t need to find love in the arms of another, to be loved is to be fulfilled. Really? What about the love for yourself? You can only be loved as your capacity is to love yourself, because that is how you will understand love to be.How to feel that free and to be in love and to be loved - What a freedom. Loneliness is a evil of the mind, bore by love stories created by the media, that we need to find our soul mate, someone to live with forever; to try to have that perfect relationship, and that someone with whom we are compatible with – when why not just be, be loved, love in return, **** happens. We break, we fall, we get back up, we are not alone, we can turn around and life be changed in an instance. But we never stop being. Accept who you are. Because this is enough. There is no check list. How you are perceived does not mean you are defined by just this. Don’t be defined by your dictionary term. You are loved. You are wanted. You are amazing and beautiful in your own right.
We are born, we die, this is what we are sure of; inbetween is the path that you make. So make it a good one. Smile more, because you really are beautiful when you do so.
G David Schwartz Aug 2013
Please accept the attached the original, as yet not published work written by G. David Schwartz - the former president of Seedhouse, the online interfaith committee. Schwartz is the author of A Jewish
Appraisal of Dialogue and Midrash and Working Out Of The Book
Currently a volunteer at the Cincinnati J Meals on Wheels, Schwartz continues to write.
His latest book is Shards And Verse  (2011, Publish America).
             Names are not real people

                        G David Schwartz
         DavidSchwartzG@AOL.COM
Four For Glory
The Night Was Cut Off From Smiling
        G David Schwartz
Oh, I will not die
The night was cut off from smiling  
I sat there crying

Broken Wings Fly Upside Down
         G David Schwartz
Whether red or brown  
broken wings fly upside down
Do not touch the clown

I Hear The Firer Frying
G David Schwartz
I hear the frier frying
I hear the burgers burning
I also here the wind
Early out this morning           

I Am Not Ashamed
        G David Schwartz   
I am not ashamed
I will do anything with you that you wish
except of course
eat some uncooked fish
preservationman Oct 2015
A cemetery with a name only known as “Lost Soul”
Sue who no one really knew
Assumptions but nothing really thought through
Sue was often considered to be a Witch
It was spells enchanted into a wave of hands like a switch
Evil that was always on Sue’s mind
Darkness with no lighted moon in having people think in being blind
But within their own subconscious being sublime
It was in the Old Craven’s house
There was nothing moving, but some lonely mouse
This was the house where Sue dwelled
But as the hour glass turns, it was her wizardry being the tell
Sue was in no way related to previous owners of the house
But some considered her to be a spouse
Spouse or not but mysterious indeed
But please allow me to continue to proceed
Sue lived in the Craven’s house all alone
Why she did in the house wasn’t really known
It wasn’t until a fierce stormy night where spirits were seen disembarking from the Craven’s house
The lightening provided the video screen, and the thunder of evil in what it all could mean
Loud moans and a witch’s ***
Eerie emotions that would be definitely hitting the spot
Sue was pursuing she was a witch
But having no music not needing any pitch
Spells that would tell forgetfulness like a drift of a well
A night of breathless life
Mythical or fiction
The fact remains this was a condition
The unspoken word that was never ever told
Her powers were like a curse from hell
To many doubters, it was a thought of oh well
It was Sue’s forces combatting the evil from within
It was a moment of revenge
But it was no tricks being treats
It was becoming a night that won’t be entirely complete
Heaven holding the answer and hell being the firer ashes
Sue raised her hands to fight the Heavenly skies
But her fate that wasn’t really thinking wise
A lightening bolt having full charge
Sue was struck and died instantly
She was later placed in a grave only known as Sue
The evil was finally over
But did it really come to an end
Hidden spirits vow to come back on the hour of when
Sue’s grave reads, “ Hell has become my home, but I will return to once again roam”
Hell opened her gates, and sue became the fate
But the hour had come, but was it too late
Sue’s last name having no word
You now know and have heard
Utterance having a patient silence
Light guided by the moon, and darkness remembered as only a forever gloom.
devante moore Jan 2015
As I lay here waiting
Watching
The breeze sends a chill down my spin as it drys the cold sweat
I've done this a thousand times
An each time it's taken a piece of me
I feel empty like a bullet shell I just fired
I've been doing this to long
Far away from home
I've forgotten there voices
Their faces blurry
Your memories replaced by nightmares of dead bodies falling
As I'm lost in thought
I get a message
The target has arrived
I regain focus
And stare down the scope
Searching for you through out the crowd
Found you standing in the open
I can see your heartbeat from outside your chest
I can see you exhale
And wipe off the sweat
You seem nervous
I focus again an take aim
But you don't move
You stand there
Like your begging for me to shoot
You check your time piece growing more anxious
Your just another sacrificial lamb to me
I put my finger on the trigger
Take a deep breath gaining composer
The wind picks up forcing me to change the dial on the scope
As I'm ready to firer
I can hear feet teasing the ground behind me
But before I can react I feel a sharp pain an the world fades to black
Make me poetry
the very first word that comes
after your breathe
value & essence,
for how sweet to taste it is
to say the right words at the right time.

Lead me through your desires
within your darkest reigns
of your infinite glory,

Parables, riddles
Metaphysical, allegories
as many form as they may

Where language, culture,
tradition & religion were formed
may my words as cords, fasten bond.

Tutor me from Gèez to english
put the very craft of your word in me
adorn me as the euphrates & tigris
from your garden of love & life
where every precious stones adore you

Dress me from your firer lake
where even souls that are eternal dread
take away all my dross
like the separation of the Red Sea

As a potter & a vessel
I'm your moulded clay
put all your strings in me
make me your living & eternal will.

Covenant my eyes as your everlasting
holies of holies
may my presence
be as cool as the breathe of life
and my touch of whole-stream baptism Devine.

Make me as
I Am & HIM,
everlasting and ascending
Skyy Blu Apr 2019
Your love's so good makes me wanna shout your name.... Firer, No- RollBack on the flame!
Out of a thousand,
a million or as many as it could be,
1zillion,
a lone star fell from among
one foggy morning

Before the birds could whistle
Or the **** crows
she was jealously wishing on the love of the sun and the moon
though an eclipse they shared
Kinetic was it's name

For as a city set up on the hills,
their vibrations never failed by the second.

She was tired of being among the quo
she had space in her heart  
lots of desires,
emotionally craving.


So her art faded
& she fell into gravity and drown
deep depth into the oceans heart
like Jonah into the moving grave,
beyond were all treasures are kept because she envied none,
none but ORISHÀNLÀ 100001 beautiful heartbeat.

Where the first fire was made
the firer lakes is where she burns
just to fill ORISHÀNLÀ 100001 heart
as much as she care,
even forevermore.

She drown not envious of night or day for both needs the sun and moon to feel special,
but in her fire she is alone,
yet adorn.
for alone is where ORISHÀNLÀ 100001 is in all his fullness.

But her fire are words shuts up
in bones as pure literature,
a clay pottery waiting to be broken.
a will molded
her name is  Kenetic Zi
the truth & the will
A lover & beloved.

By the inspiration of ORUN-MÍ-LÀ
she sings her soul a new song daily
from same old pages
but she never ages.


An awe of mystic and mysteries.
as sharp as the double edge sword
Of Shakespeare & Burning spears,
cutting through her own skin
piece by piece neatly.  
just so she could burn up all ashes
she's the born-again Pheonix.
Shelby Mccrary Apr 2017
Sugar & Spice and everything else in between.

Will make a recipe that cannot be seen but only felt with your heart.

The sweet and firer emotions that you hold inside are like a work of art. Poem By Shelby Kathleen Nightingale

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