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We are living in a dangerous world.
We are living in a crazy world.
Brethren trust a man with a forgiving heart.
Brethren be in a relationship with a forgiving heart.
Without trust and a forgiving heart, forget!
Without patience and a forgiving heart, forget!
With trust and a forgiving heart, we survive.
With patience and a forgiving heart, we survive.

Forgiving heart is a tablet, of this crazy world.
Forgiving heart is an injection of this cruel relationships of this world
Brethren where is your forgiving heart
Neighbor where is your forgiving heart.
Enough is enough must be something of the past
I divorce him, I divorce her, must be something of the past

-Written by: The Senior
Forgiving heart, precious gift from our father God
Image of the lord, can you be like your father God
Image of the lord, forgiving one another is your health in this world.
Painful heart, source of devil words, what a cruel world.
Please, please, learn to forgive and stay away from the devil.
I tend to think long and snoring nights are caused by this devil.
Are you a brethren or a church goer where is your forgiving heart?
Are you a child of God or child of the devil where is your forgiving heart?

Many people give a smile with a lot of grudges.
What a beautiful church with a lot of church goers?
Truth and forgiving one another is something of the past.
Please teacher, evangelist, nurse teach them about grudges.
Man of God, can you pray for grudges to minimize church goers?
Why truth and forgiving one another is something of the past?

-Written By: The Senior
Triiniity Apr 2014
---------
A kiss like sand paper on skin
But I can't get enough
Your touch like knives stabbing from within
Why must you be so rough?
But it's okay, I'll forgive you
I'll never get enough
A kiss so forgiving
I'll never give it up
A touch so inviting
Time and love will cure those cuts
Thank you for forgiving me
I'll never get enough

Your words cut through me
control me
and worst of all
they know me- best
Just when I thought
I had laid them to rest
you come back just to speak
I'm on a leash
so please don't stand in front of me
Don't tease me
on the end of the line
because one day
I'll chew through your words like rope
and I'll finally be free.
---------
A kiss like sand paper on skin
But I can't get enough
Your touch like knives stabbing from within
Why must you be so rough?
But it's okay, I'll forgive you
I'll never get enough
A kiss so forgiving
I'll never give it up
A touch so inviting
Time and love will cure those cuts
Thank you for forgiving me
I'll never get enough

I'll never forget how your words
would show me
they owned me
and told me it was best
that I bury the memories
Am I your slave?
when I'm done
One day
you'll dig up what's left
And you'll always be the one
I wrote to in song
so I guess it's true what they say
old habits die hard
Why must I stay on this leash
What use do you have for me
I'm not as strong as I used to be
my teeth aren't as sharp
so just let me be free please
---------
A kiss like sand paper on skin
But I can't get enough
Your touch like knives stabbing from within
Why must you be so rough?
But it's okay, I'll forgive you
I'll never get enough
A kiss so forgiving
I'll never give it up
A touch so inviting
Time and love will cure those cuts
Thank you for forgiving me
I'll never get enough

I'm my own man, so let me be just that
If don't stop doing this to me
I swear karma's gonna get you back.
---------
A kiss like sand paper on skin
But I can't get enough
Your touch like knives stabbing from within
Why must you be so rough?
But it's okay, I'll forgive you
I'll never get enough
A kiss so forgiving
I'll never give it up
A touch so inviting
Time and love will cure those cuts
Thank you for forgiving me
*I'll never get enough
Well, I was thinking of this last night, and today during study hall, so I finally decided to write it. Tell me what you think please? :) All Feedback is good.
Also, I would like to thank all of you who read what I read for getting me trending on the "How Would You Feel" poem. Thanks so much guys. <3
~Frank
J H Webb Nov 2015
Dec. 30, 1989

In the valley of the angels
In the fields of broken snow
On the mountains of the warriors
Where the devil fears to go.
In the passions unapparent
In the tears of a restless child
In the calmness of the country
In the cities growing wild

Wherever love lies sleeping, whenever hope is lost,
A gentle heart forgiving will rise up from the frost

In the heart of bitter conquests
In the nights that never end
In the lies that hold the moment
dangling from a liar’s thread.
In the eyes of well know strangers
In the looks of friends that care
In the path of eminent danger
In the light of all that’s fair

Wherever love lies sleeping, whenever hope is lost,
A gentle heart forgiving will rise up from the frost

In the never ending stories
In the poems of bitter youth
In the ravings of an old man
Who has never faced the truth.
In the silence of the villain
In the victim’s callous laugh
In the arms of lover’s smitten
In the families torn in half

Wherever love lies sleeping, whenever hope is lost,
A gentle heart forgiving will rise up from the frost

In the bending of the willow
In the arrow’s perfect path
In the breath that any minute
Could always be your last .
In the patience of the hero
In the soul that takes a stand
In the seizing of the moment
When the moment is at hand

Wherever love lies sleeping, whenever hope is lost,
A gentle heart forgiving will rise up from the frost*

*J. H. Webb
Kate Morgan Oct 2013
There are 1,013,913 words in the English language, and not one of them describes how I feel about you, about us.

I used to say you were my strawberry jam, my little preserve that I would lay and spread on the table each morning, and I would lick my lips and say 'my God isn't she magnificent'.

I was your hero, your savior, your Christ that you had at Sundays Eucharist, and thank God you did. You dissolved in my mouth like that little piece of bread called a body but you tasted of everything instead of nothing, and **** me for thinking of you instead of God, thinking of you as my altar as I said 'hail Mary' and I worshiped you like a school girl with an orange full of candles in her hand, and for that God will **** me. He will **** me to hell but I don't care as the Universe lives under your tongue and everything I had ever dreamed of was right there in the right hand corner of your mouth.

You were my Wendy, darling. You stuck a thimble on my heart and said now you can never hurt me. But you did. We did. And the never of Neverland drifted away like a ship sinking into the sky, enveloped by darkness, smothered by a torrential rain of tears that washed away your fears that we were perfect, as there's no such thing as perfect when you can see your heart in the mirror with a target fixed to its center,

There are no words to describe how I feel about us. I still lift up my shirt and see your name inscribed on my chest, I still wake up and transcribe the words you wrote on my breast. I still touch myself up and think of you bribing me to undress. I still think about us.

If I could re-write my world to involve you in it I would. I would leave a piece of the jigsaw for you to carry around in your pocket so you knew you always fit in the world some where. I would make the sun rise each day through your window so you knew that life was worth living, that life was worth living when you were so what I am saying is I am forgiving. I am forgiving those days you swore at my reflection, and that day I slept on the sofa till three in the morning chain smoking till I was choking, remember? You said 'what are you doing' and I said I was in a smoke straight jacket and I was dying. You went back up to bed and I started crying. I am forgiving myself of those days I lay in bed just sighing. I am forgiving us for not trying.

But most of all, most of all, I am forgiving us for lying.

There are not enough words in the English language that can say I'm sorry like I am.

Or that I want you to move on. But I don't want you to move on.

Or that I want you happy. Because I want you happy.

I want you happy.
Priya Patel Jun 2015
A forgiving grey
Black and white together sway
until the next rain
A forgiving grey
Moody clouds come out and play
a forboding and colorless sky
Black and white together sway
A forgiving grey

© Priya Patel 6/1/2015
Mateuš Conrad Oct 2017
judaic moral absolutism vs. christian moral relativism (alt. title).

whenever i hear people talk about
forgiveness for past ills,
and how not being able to forgive
someone an ill, will never mean
you can transcend the past ill...
i find this a horrid teaching -
if someone did ill unto you there
is absolutely no reason as to why
the ill transforms into a forgiveness,
esp. if the said party has no
honour to realise the ill deed -
and soon forgiveness spirals into
the christian *mea culpa
mantra
and instead of forgiving someone
you start blaming yourself,
self-laceration (if jesus really was
a hippy, and not a prophet from
egypt who the jews thought
was egyptian - can't really argue
with the unearthing of the lost
scripts of st. thomas etc. in egypt,
and how he tried to storm jerusalem
with 30,000 followers, escaping
narrowly with - probably a dozen -
back to egypt, cf. the historian
josephus) -
   which i find strange that no one
has made the dot dot dot connection...
besides the point,
   i don't believe in forgiveness -
but at the same time i don't believe
in revenge...
   what i believe in a continual exercise
of punching that bag of resentment...
you can only believe to become the master
of never allowing resentment to creep
into your system,
    but whenever someone mentions
"forgiveness" i start to think of
the mea culpa spiral, and the inkling
into: so, we do not need courts of law
anymore?
     i'd still champion the old testament
motto of oculus per oculus
   (eye for an eye) -
           so if the old testament motto is
absolutist, the new testament motto
is relativistic... and as much as people
sprinkle wonder-dust on the liberating
prospect of reaching a point of mending
an ill by forgiving the party who
did the ill, i can't but sneer at the person
making the suggestion...
   e.g.? oh, you mean the sort of
"forgiveness" expressed by a relative
of one of the victims of the charleston church
shooting, tears in her eyes, and the culprit
behind bars? or like john paul ii
in the prison cell of mehmet ali ağca?
   that's forgiveness?!
         as far as i know, the only "person"
to have ever genuinely forgiving someone,
was god forgiving cain...
      and he said unto him: hey,
the siberian wilderness is all yours!
   and he even branded him with a sign
that read: untouchable.
         there is no need to work of forgiving
someone,
  the thing you have to train, pet,
   and take care of, is to never allow
  resentment to overpower you, overcome you,
submerge you...
     putting it bluntly: **** forgiving,
just ensure you are never close to perpetual
resentment;
  once more, i'd choose judaic moral absolutism
(oculus per oculus), over
  christian moral relativism -
    that a ****** is relative to 20 years in prison,
rather than the gallows;
so never, ever feed the mollusk of forgiveness,
feed the mountain of climbing the summit
and standing on it, breathing the clean air
of having overcome resenting the climb.
MeanAileen Mar 2017
I am warmhearted and icy cold,
with a pretty face that's getting old.
I am fragile yet tough as a man,
struggle thru life with no real plan.
I am petite and cuss like a trucker,
slightly naive, but I'm no sucker.
I am a sinner with a halo of gold,
an open book with secrets untold.
I am a hypocrite but always play fair,
a bleeding heart and I don't care.
I am a mother who acts like a child,
crazy, impatient and easily riled.
I am spontaneous and I am a bore,
forever forgiving, I still keep score.
I am unstable and wonderfully wise,
a ****** deviant in sweet disguise.
I am creative and self-destructive
naturally skilled and unproductive.
I am shy and I am outspoken
with a heart of glass, easily broken.
I am awkward and well refined,
lost, insightful and a little love-blind.
I am respected and I am addicted
shamed by burdens, self inflicted.
I am a perfectionist and I am a slob,
unbiased and shallow, an inept snob.
I am nocturnal, a creature of night,
blissfully ignorant, typically right.
I am cautious and I have no fear,
a loser and quitter, still I persevere.
I am brilliant and easily amused,
over-zealous and under-enthused.
I am impervious with wounds to heal,
a habitual liar just keepin' it real.
I am witty and weird and mean-
I am what I am.......100 Aileen.
A lil bit about who I am...
Janna Jul 2018
There's a hole in my heart

A void in my mind

A deep desire for nothing but want

A need for something like fun

Adventure and thrills

Seekers and pills

Falling into a blackness

So dark I'm turning blue

Such stark it's only true

Helpless and innocent

Forgiving and iridescent

I bond with strangers

Act bold, I'm not the tamest

I am stuck, so stuck

I don't know how to get out of here

This place, this room, this hide

This mask, this facade,

This glass, this wall, this broken bridge

It is all burning up into flames

Watch it, sink

Down it goes deep into

Black Waters

- soulwriterj
Written in a state of fragility and lostness.
IG: @soulwriterj
Out seaward to the  horizon I see Forgiving hills where lessons fade,
Projections of my desirous plea
Patiently await their farewell to bade,
Look now for at their peak the sun is setting,
With an orange hue caressed blue sky,
And white clouded streaks like thought forgetting,
Senses renewed—our demons die.
Can you see that place where intrigue resides,
Beyond those hills ‘neath the sky turned red?
For there the heaven and earth collides,
Pervading all hope in our angels stead.
Tara J Williams Apr 2016
I've been telling my therapist about you.
I've been trying to sleep, yet all that fills my head is you and her.
You talking to her. A filthy wreck. I feel sorry for her.
Me working into the early hours of the morning, watching a sunrise on the long drive back, me wanting to get home to you.
You getting involved with her while I'm gone. You inviting her to the bar. Let me make you a drink.
You could be wiping her lipstick away before I return, erasing her taste from your lips. I bet it's disgusting.
I thought you hated dreadlocks.
I've been going over and over in my head if this is what I'm worth. I know I'm not a looker.. My hair is messy, my clothes are ripped, I'm all marked up from the past.
I thought my personality shone through that though.
Sometimes though, I guess that's not enough.
What hole do you need to fill? Please tell me.
Please, oh please tell me why you knocked me down. Why am I not enough.
I've been crying a little each day, then pulling it back together.
I've been trying to still be that stone wall I always am throughout this horrible pain.
I smell like cigarettes, you smell like lies.
I've been telling my therapist about you.
PJ Aug 2013
My mom was physically and sexually abused for
Eight years of her childhood
His name was Richie, the boyfriend of her
Mother, she kept him in the
Picture for eight whole years
And let her three young daughters have their
Childhood stolen for a man with
Too many belts

My mom was six when he entered the "family"
And fourteen when she left with a plan,
Never to talk to her mother again, but
Today my mother told me why we always
Visited Grandma when she became sick,
She told me
God made us to be forgiving, so she turned her
Hate into sorrow and
Belt marks into
Scrabble games around the dinner table

Every night we say a prayer
Hoping Grandma is in a better place, but
Tonight I can't help but stutter over
The words I barely mean because
God made us to be forgiving
But eight years is a long time
Lost
Ah, Nikolaas, my love for him is not the same, as my love for thee;
My love for thee was once, and may still be, sweeter, purer, more elegant, and free;
But still, how unfortunate! imprisoned in mockery, and liberated not-by destiny;
It still hath to come and go; it cannot stay cheerfully-about thee forever, and within my company.

And but tonight-shall Amsterdam still be cold?
But to cold temper thou shalt remain unheeded; thou shalt be tough, and bold;
Sadly I am definite about having another nightmare, meanwhile, here;
For thy voice and longings shall be too far; with presumptions and poems, I cannot hear.

Sleep, my loveliest, sleep; for unlike thine, none other temper, or love-is in some ways too fragrant, and sweet;
All of which shall neither tempt me to flirt, nor hasten me to meet;
My love for thee is still undoubted, defined, and unhesitant;
Like all t'is summer weather around; 'tis both imminent, and pleasant.

My love for thee, back then, was but one youthful-and reeking of temporal vitality;
But now 'tis different-for fathom I now-the distinction between sincerity, and affectation.
Ah, Nikolaas, how once we strolled about roads, and nearby spheres-in living vivacity;
With sweets amongst our tongues-wouldst we attend every song, and laugh at an excessively pretentious lamentation.

Again-we wouldst stop in front of every farm of lavender;
As though they wanted to know, and couldst but contribute their breaths, and make our love better.
We were both in blooming youth, and still prevailed on-to keep our chastity;
And t'is we obeyed gladly, and by each ot'er, days passed and every second went even lovelier.

But in one minute thou wert but all gone away;
Leaving me astray; leaving me to utter dismay.
I had no more felicity in me-for all was but, in my mind, a dream of thee;
And every step was thus felt like an irretrievable path of agony.

Ah, yon agony I loathe! The very agony I wanted but to slaughter, to redeem-and to bury!
For at t'at time I had known not the beauty of souls, and poetry;
I thought but the world was wholly insipid and arrogant;
T'at was so far as I had seen, so far as I was concerned.

I hath now, seen thy image-from more a lawful angle-and lucidity;
And duly seen more of which-and all start to fall into place-and more indolent, clarity;
All is fair now, though nothing was once as fair;
And now with peace, I want to be friends; I want to be paired.

Perhaps thou couldst once more be part of my tale;
But beforehand, I entreat thee to see, and listen to it;
A tale t'at once sent into my heart great distrust and sadness, and made it pale;
But from which now my heart hath found a way out, and even satisfactorily flirted with it,

For every tale, the more I approach it, is as genuine as thee;
And in t'is way-and t'is way only, I want thee to witness me, I want thee to see me.
I still twitch with tender madness at every figure, and image-I hath privately, of thine;
They are still so captivatingly clear-and a most fabulous treasure to my mind.

My love for thee might hath now ended; and shall from now on-be dead forever;
It hath been buried as a piece of unimportance, and a dear old, obsolete wonder;
And thus worry not, for in my mind it hath become a shadow, and ceased to exist;
I hath made thee resign, I hath made thee drift rapidly away, and desist.

Ah, but again, I shall deny everything I hath said-'fore betraying myself once more;
Or leading myself into the winds of painful gravity, or dismissive cold tremor;
For nothing couldst stray me so well as having thee not by my side;
An image of having thee just faraway-amidst the fierceness of morns, and the very tightness of nights.

And for seconds-t'ese pains shall want to bury me away, want to make me shout;
And shout thy very name indeed; thy very own aggravated silence, and sins out loud;
Ah, for all t'ese shadows about are too vehement-but eagerly eerie;
Like bursts of outspread vigilance, misunderstood but lasting forever, like eternity.

'Twas thy own mistake-and thus thou ought'a blame anyone not;
Thou wert the one to storm away; thou wert the one who cut our story short.
Thou wert the one who took whole leave, of the kind entity-of my precious time and space;
And for nothingness thou obediently set out; leaving all we had built, to abundant waste.

Thou disappeared all too quickly-and wert never seen again;
Thou disappeared like a column of smoke, to whom t'is virtual world is partial;
And none of thy story, since when-hath stayed nor thoughtfully remained;
Nor any threads of thy voice were left behind, to stir and ring, about yon hall.

Thou gaily sailed back into thy proud former motherland;
Ah, and the stirring noises of thy meticulous Amsterdam;
Invariably as a man of royalty, in thy old arduous way back again;
Amongst the holiness of thy mortality; 'twixt the demure hesitations, of thy royal charms.

And thou art strange! For once thou mocked and regarded royalty as *******;
But again, to which itself, as credulous, and soulless victim, thou couldst serenely fall;
Thus thou hath perpetually been loyal not, to thy own pride, and neatly sworn words;
Thou art forever divided in his dilemma; and the unforgiving sweat, of thy frightening two worlds.

Indeed thy godlike eyes once pierced me-and touched my very fleshly happiness;
But with a glory in which I couldst not rejoice; at which I couldst not blush with tenderness.
Thy charms, although didst once burn and throttle me with a ripe vitality;
Still wert not smooth-and ever offered to cuddle me more gallantly; nor kiss my boiling lips, more softly.

Every one of t'ese remembrances shall make me hate thee more;
But thou thyself hath made more forgiving, and excellent-like never before;
'Ah, sweet,' thou wouldst again protested-last night, 'Who in t'is very life wouldst make no sin?'
'Forgiveth every sinned soul thereof; for 'tis unfaithful, for 'tis all inherently mean.'

'Aye, aye,' and thou wouldst assent to my subsequent query,
'I hath changed forever-not for nothingness, but for eternitie.'
'To me love o' gold is now but nothing as succulent',
'I shall offer elegantly myself to not be of any more torment, but as a loyal friend.'

'I shall calleth my former self mad; and be endued with nothing but truths, of rifles and hate;'
'But now I shall attempt to be obedient; and naughty not-towards my fate.'
'Ah, let me amendst thereof-my initial nights, my impetuous mistakes,'
'Let me amendst what was once not dignified; what was once said as false, and fake.'

'So t'at whenst autumn once more findeth its lapse, and in its very grandness arrive,'
'I hopeth thy wealth of love shall hath been restored, and all shall be alive,'
'For nothing hath I attempted to achieve, and for nothing else I hath struggled to strive;'
'But only to propose for thy affection; and thy willingness to be my saluted wife.'

And t'is small confession didst, didst tear my dear heart into pieces!
But canst I say-it was ceremoniously established once more-into settlements of wishes;
I was soon enlivened, and no longer blurred by tumult, nor discourteous-hesitation;
Ah, thee, so sweetly thou hath consoled, and removed from me-the sanctity of any livid strands of my dejection.

For in vain I thought-had I struggled, to solicit merely affection-and genuinity from thee;
For in vain I deemed-thou couldst neither appreciate me-nor thy coral-like eyes, couldst see;
And t'is peril I perched myself in was indeed dangerous to my night and day;
For it robbed me of my mirth; and shrank insolently my pride and conscience, stuffing my wholeness into dismay.

But thou hath now released me from any further embarkation of mineth sorrow;
Thou who hath pleased me yesterday; and shall no more be distant-tomorrow;
Thou who couldst brighten my hours by jokes so fine-and at times, ridiculous;
Thou who canst but, from now on, as satisfactory, irredeemable, and virtuous.

Ah, Nikolaas, farther I shall be no more to calleth thee mad; or render thee insidious;
Thou shall urge me to forget everything, as hating souls is not right, and perilous;
Thou remindeth me of forgiving's glorious, and profound elegance;
And again 'tis the holiest deed we ought to do; the most blessed, and by God-most desired contrivance.

Oh, my sweet, perhaps thou hath sinned about; but amongst the blessed, thou might still be the most blessed;
For nothing else but gratitude and innocence are now seen-in thy chest;
Even when I chastised thee-and called thee but an impediment;
Thou still forgave me, and turned myself back again into elastic merriment.

Thou art now pure-and not by any means meek, but cruel-like thy old self is;
For unlike 'tis now, it couldst never be satisfied, nor satiated, nor pleased;
'Twas far too immersed in his pursuit of bloodied silver, and gold;
And to love it had grown blind, and its greedy woes, healthily too bold.

And just like its bloodied silver-it might be but the evil blood itself;
For it valued, and still doth-every piece with madness, and insatiable hunger;
Its works taint his senses, and hastened thee to want more-of what thou couldst procure-and have,
But it realised not that as time passed by, it made thee but grew worse-and in the most virtuous of truth, no better.

But thou bore it like a piece of godlike, stainless ivory;
Thou showered, and endured it with love; and blessed it with well-established vanity.
Now it hath been purified, and subdued-and any more teaches thee not-how to be impatient, nor imprudent;
As how it prattled only, over crude, limitless delights; and the want of reckless impediments.

Thou nurtured it, and exhorted it to discover love-all day and night;
And now love in whose soul hath been accordingly sought, and found;
And led thee to absorb life like a delicate butterfly-and raiseth thy light;
The light thou hath now secured and refined within me; and duly left me safe, and sound.

Thou hath restored me fully, and made me feel but all charmed, awesome, and way more heavenly;
Thou hath toughened my pride and love; and whispered the loving words he hath never spoken to me.
Ah, I hope thou art now blessed and safely pampered in thy cold, mischievous Amsterdam;
Amsterdam which as thou hath professed-is as windy, and oft' makes thy fingers grow wildly numb.

Amsterdam which is sick with superior lamentations, and fame;
But never adorned with exact, or at least-honest means of scrutiny;
For in every home exists nothing but bursts of madness, and flames;
And in which thereof, lives 'twixt nothing-but meaningless grandeur, and a poorest harmony.

Amsterdam which once placed thee in pallid, dire, and terrible horror;
Amsterdam which gave thy spines thrills of disgust, and infamous tremor;
But from which thou wert once failed, fatefully, neither to flee, nor escape;
Nor out of whose stupor, been able to worm thy way out, or put which, into shape.

But I am sure out of which thou art now delightful-and irresistibly fine;
For t'ere is no more suspicion in thy chest-and all of which hath gone safely to rest;
All in thy very own peace-and the courteous abode of our finest poetry;
Which lulls thee always to sleep-and confer on thee forever, degrees of a warmest, pleasantry.

Ah, Nikolaas-as thou hath always been, a child of night, but born within daylight;
Poor-poor child as well, of the moon, whose life hath been betrayed but by dullness, and fright.
Ah, Nikolaas-but should hath it been otherwise-wouldst thou be able to see thine light?
And be my son of gladness, be my prince of all the more peaceful days; and ratified nights.

And should it be like which-couldst I be the one; the very one idyll-to restore thy grandeur?
As thou art now, everything might be too blasphemous, and in every way obscure;
But perhaps-I couldst turn every of thine nightmare away, and maketh thee secure;
Perhaps I couldst make thee safe and glad and sleep soundly; perfectly ensured.

Ah, Nikolaas! For thy delight is pure-and exceptionally pure, pure, and pure!
And thy innocence is why I shall craft thee again in my mind, and adore thee;
For thy absurdity is as shy, and the same as thy purity;
But in thy hands royalty is unstained, flawless, and just too sure.

For in tales of eternal kingdoms-thou shalt be the dignified king himself;
Thou shalt be blessed with all godly finery, and jewels-which thou thyself deserve;
And not any other tyrant in t'ese worlds-who mock ot'er souls and pretend to be brave;
But trapped within t'eir own discordant souls, and wonders of deceit and curses of reserve.

Oh, sweet-sweet Nikolaas! Please then, help my poetry-and define t'is heart of me!
Listen to its heartbeat-and tellest me, if it might still love thee;
Like how it wants to stretch about, and perhaps touch the moonlight;
The moonlight that does look and seem to far, but means still as much-to our very night.

Ah! Look, my darling-as the moonlight shall smile again, to our resumed story;
If our story is, in unseen future, ever truly resumed-and thus shall cure everything;
As well t'is unperturbed, and still adorably-longing feeling;
The feeling that once grew into remorse-as soon as thou stomped about, and faraway left me.

Again love shall be, in thy purest heart-reincarnated,
For 'tis the only single being t'at is wondrous-and inexhaustible,
To our souls, 'tis but the only salvation-and which is utterly edible,
To console and praise our desperate beings-t'at were once left adrift, and unheartily, infuriated.

Love shall be the cure to all due breathlessness, and trepidations;
Love shall be infallible, and on top of all, indefatigable;
And love shall be our new invite-to the recklessness of our exhausted temptations;
Once more, shall love be our merit, which is sacred and unalterable; and thus unresentful, and infallible.

Love shall fill us once more to the brim-and make our souls eloquent;
Love be the key to a life so full-and lakes of passion so ardent;
Enabling our souls to flit about and lay united hands on every possible distinction;
Which to society is perhaps not free; and barrier as they be, to the gaiety of our destination.

Thus on the rings of union again-shall our dainty hearts feast;
As though the entire world hath torn into a beast;
But above all, they shan't have any more regrets, nor hate;
Or even frets, for every fit of satisfaction hath been reached; and all thus, hath been repaid.

Thus t'is might be thee; t'at after all-shall be worthy of my every single respect;
As once thou once opened my eyes-and show me everything t'at t'is very world might lack.
Whilst thou wert striving to be admirable and strong; t'is world was but too prone and weak;
And whilst have thy words and poetry; everyone was just perhaps too innocent-and had no clue, about what to utter, what to speak.

Thou might just be the very merit I hath prayed for, and always loved;
Thou might hath lifted, and relieved me prettily; like the stars very well doth the moon above.
And among your lips, lie your sweet kisses t'at made me live;
A miracle he still possesses not; a specialty he might be predestined not-to give.

Thou might be the song I hath always wanted to written;
But sadly torn in one day of storm; and thus be secretly left forgotten;
Ah, Nikolaas, but who is to say t'at love is not at all virile, easily deceived, and languid?
For any soul saying t'at might be too delirious, or perhaps very much customary, and insipid.

And in such darkness of death; thou shalt always be the tongue to whom I promise;
One with whom I shall entrust the very care of my poetry; and ot'er words of mouth;
One I shall remember, one I once so frightfully adored, and desired to kiss;
One whose name I wouldst celebrate; as I still shall-and pronounce every day, triumphantly and aggressively, out loud.

For thy name still rings within me with craze, but patterned accusation, of enjoyment;
For thy art still fits me into bliss, and hopeful expectations of one bewitching kiss;
Ah, having thee in my imagination canst turn me idle, and my cordial soul-indolent;
A picture so naughty it snares my whole mind-more than everything, even more than his.

Oh, Nikolaas, and perhaps so thereafter, I shall love, and praise thee once more-like I doth my poetry;
For as how my poetry is, thou art rooted in me already; and thus breathe within me.
Thou art somehow a vein in my blood, and although fictitious still-in my everyday bliss;
Thou art worth more than any other lov
Someone Apr 2014
Stay humble my friend.
For you won't be here one day.
And although you think you might have left a legacy,
In due time it too will fade with you.
You want to be remembered as someone who
Was kind.
Loving.
Respectful.
Helpful.
Friendly.
And above all humble.
So take the compliments nicely.
Try to always be kind.
And try to be forgiving.
Although I know it can sometimes be hard.
Help others.
Stand up for one another.
Because those are the true legacies that impact lives.
Not just some material thing that will fade faster than you think.
Diba May 2015
Aries* - Tell me about every person who broke your heart, tell me about how you fantasize of never being heard of again.

Taurus - Tell me about the demons that tuck you in bed every night and you lay awake and try to fill the void in your heart with lost causes.

Gemini - Do you remember the last time you spilled your feelings out to someone? And had them touch your soul instead of your body? Has anyone ever tried to untangle the mess you heart’s been in?

Cancer - When did you feel the shock of losing someone? When you realized you will never fell their touch or hear their voice, you will only see their smiles in photographs.

Leo - Remember the first time someone told you theyre never going to leave you? How long has the hole you’ve torn in your heart been empty?

Virgo -Tell me about how you’re torn between forgetting them and forgiving them

Libra - Tell me about how you’ve been looking for love in all the wrong people, why it hurts so much when they look at you like that.

Scorpio - Tell me about the first time you felt the weight of hatred on your heart. Who left you so broken that now your eyes would cut deeper than any knife you’ve ever picked up.  

Sagittarius - How many times have you said “why won’t my heart stop beating” before falling asleep?

Capricorn - How many times have you tried to convince your mind that the person you love, loves you back?

Aquarius - Who broke the windows to your heart? You thought it would hurt for a minute but it’s been 4 years and nothing’s changed.

Pisces - How many poems have you written that no one will ever read? The ones  about your ex lovers who left you broken on the bathroom floor while you carved their names on your walls.
Raeanne LaBrosse Feb 2012
I am not perfect. I make mistakes.

I am genuine and forgiving.
I wonder what God thinks of us as people.
I hear the sound of my sister singing to sold out crowds.
I see the glass as always half full.
I want to make a difference in someone’s life.
I am genuine and forgiving.

I pretend that I am stronger than I actually am.
I feel my heart swelling with regret.
I touch the memories I try to close out.
I worry about the soldiers fighting for our freedom while we lay at home in our warm beds.
I cry that moments in time are gone forever.
I am genuine and forgiving.

I understand that life doesn’t last forever.
I say that I am working to achieve a better future.
I dream about war, peace, and love.
I try to make people smile when they’re having a bad day.
I hope one day for a cure for diabetes.
I am genuine and forgiving.
Sofia Paderes Feb 2015
Summer, Day 1.
Do you know how much I love you?
One day you will.
One day you will.
I haven't even seen you yet,
but I am so in love with you.

When the time comes for us to finally be together, I will drive us somewhere outside this concrete jungle to ask you that. Then I will tell you to look at the stars, and you will try to count them, even if you already know that not enough stars were created to compare it to.

Darling, I dance and I sing and I shake in delight at the thought of being with you. I'm a morning person now, because I know that every waking moment is one day closer to forever.

Summer, Day 2.
I have sworn to save every part of this heart for you. I've loved before, but not like this. Not like this. My stone-heart now made flesh beats as if I'd just been born, as if I'd been made to love and to be loved by you.

Summer, Day 3.
I can't believe you chose me. I can't believe I'm going to get to marry you. We've got quite a long way to go, but I'm already preparing, making sure my dress will be as white as snow, every hair in place, this heart pure and this body untouched until the day I put my hand in yours. I can't wait to see your face when I walk down the aisle. I promise to be the perfect bride, your perfect bride.

Fall, Day 1.
I might not write as much as I did during the summer. Life has been getting busier and busier, but I want you to know that I still love you as much as I did from the first day.

Fall, Day 46.
I've been spending quite a bit of time with someone. He's clever and says the most interesting things. I feel like we will never run out of words to say to one another. We talk everyday, and the funny thing is sometimes I feel my day isn't complete yet if we haven't spoken. Don't worry, my heart is still yours. Just thought I'd let you know.

Fall, Day 52.
I think I love him, but just a little bit. I'm sorry, but I'm going to have to cut an inch off of my heart to give to him. It's just an inch less. Surely you won't mind.

Fall, Day 80.
He's been with someone else this entire time. It's a good thing I gave him only an inch of my heart, but the rest is bruised. Don't worry, darling, I'll have it fixed in time.

Fall, Day 100.
It's still beating, but barely. Maybe I should love a little again. Maybe some warmth will do this heart good.

Winter, Day 15.
I think... I gave a little too much.

Winter, Day 50.
My latest disaster said my heart was something worth waiting for. Apparently his second hands tick faster than the usual. He left, taking more than I expected he would.

Winter, Day 65.
Is a heart supposed to look like this?

Winter, Day 90.
I can no longer hear it beating steadily. Some parts have frozen. I have tried to stitch pieces back together and they hold... if you would call it that. There are scars and cuts that haven't healed, swollen bits from the wounds that were infected because I tried to save the poison only to have it lash out and bite me in the back.

Winter, Day 104.
What have I done?

Winter, Day 135.
Look at it. No wait, don't. There isn't anything left to give you, anything worthy enough to even stand in your shadow. I promised you everything now I give you nothing. You waited for me yet I pursued others, consumed by my lust and my pride, where can I hide that I myself will not see this mess of a heart I've created? Where can I run to that I will not have to see the look on your face when you see what I have left to give you? Do you still want this, this broken vessel, this torn up heart, all the pieces that don't fit, all the stitched up parts? Do you still want me?

Spring, Day 1.
You do.

Spring, Day 3.
You do because you knew what you were getting yourself into long before you met me, you knew I would break your heart yet you still asked for mine, you do because you are love itself. A death defeating, grave shaking, forgiving, full of grace and mercy, life and righteousness kind of love. This is the love that chose me. Now I choose you.

Spring, Day 5.
What have I done to deserve this? As far as the east is from the west, so you have cleared my offense. When others asked for me, they knelt on one knee but you asked nailed to a tree. Now here you are. Despite what I've done you want me to return to you, want me to still have you. And you know what?

Spring, Day 7.
I do. And I give my heart to you in absolute surrender and total abandon. Here, though broken and torn, take it and make it new.
It was yours all along. I was yours all along.
A piece written for Logos' Vessel under Fringe Manila.
Matt Jul 2018
Jesus Christ of Nazareth
Is the Way
The Truth and The Life

Despite Francis’ and his world church
Despite the efforts of the antichrist Obama
Satan will fail
As he always has failed

The coming world church
Seeks to change the gospel
Of the Lord Jesus Christ of Nazareth

No, it is not acceptable
To love and dwell in sin
Repent unto Master Jesus Christ of Nazareth
The Kingdom of Yahweh God is at hand

Buddhists you will not save yourself
Through meditation
Hindus, Muslims, etc
You cannot save yourself

You are guilty
Yes u are a sinner
You have lied
Taken the name
Of Lord Jesus Christ in vain
You have cursed your neighbor
With your vile tongue
You have defiled yourself
Through your ****** immorality

We are all sinners
In need of the Lord Jesus Christ of Nazareth
Repent unto the Lord Jesus Christ of Nazareth
For The Lord Jesus Christ of Nazareth hath shed
His holy and perfect blood to pay the penalty for your sins
Believe in the truth that Jesus Christ of Nazareth resurrected
Himself on the third day
Through the power of Lord God Almighty Yahweh
Defeating Satan, death, and the grave once and for all

Yes the tribulation will begin shortly
First will come a series of judgements
Against America
The ***** of Babylon
A nation that has aborted 60 million children
A nation that has legalized gay marriage
A nation that has murdered and destroyed
The lives of millions all over the world for decades

CERN has opened up the bottomless pit
So it was in the days of Noah
So it shall be at the coming of the Son of Man

The coming RFID chip will use
Block chain technology
To alter human DNA
A nephilim/hybrid strand
Will infect the human genome
Forever changing those who take the mark of the beast

Do not take the mark of the beast or bow down
To the image of the beast
Those who do so
Will spend an eternity
In the lake of fire
With Barack Obama, the nephilim and rephaim,
And unrepentant souls
Who have not accepted the Lord Jesus Christ of Nazareth
As their Lord and Savior

To Barack Obama and his father Satan
Human beings are just objects
To be controlled and used
They wish to take as many souls
Into the lake of fire as they can

The faithful servants of the Lord Jesus Christ of Nazareth
Are laughing at Barack Obama the antichrist,
At Satan, the nephilim, and the rephaim
It is oh so entertaining that you think you can overcome
The Lord and Master of the Universe Jesus Christ of Nazareth
What a bunch of losers you are!

Lord Jesus Christ of Nazareth
The Holy One of Israel
Master Jesus Christ of Nazareth
Is the eternal victor
He cannot be defeated

Christians trounce and stomp all over you
We push you down into the mud
The Lord Jesus Christ of Nazareth who owns
My soul, spirit, body, heart, and mind
Will use me during the tribulation
To help people to repent
And accept the Lord Jesus Christ of Nazareth
As their Lord, Master, and Savior

The Spirit and the Bride say Come
The Holy Spirit of the Most High God Yahweh
The Ruachakodesh that Is
Praise His holy name

Oh Master Jesus of Nazareth
I will bow down before you
When I first see you after I am raptured
I willing kiss your feet as a Mary Magdalene did
I belong to you forever Master Jesus of Nazareth
For you delivered me from the lake of fire
With your holy and perfect blood

Oh Master Jesus of Nazareth
I am your sweetheart bride
You protect me and nurture me
I am like a small baby
I am your precious sheep
I can only comprehend a very small percentage
Of your great love and mercy

I am slow to learn your ways
Oh Master Jesus of Nazareth
But you are patient with me
You are my bridegroom
Master Jesus of Nazareth
I am your precious Bride

The Marrige Supper of the Lamb
Will be so delightful
To be in Your presence
Is such a privilege

And then to the bridal suite
You will whisk me away
To our secret place
We will share the desires of our hearts
Oh Master Jesus of Nazareth
How can I not be nervous
Writing this?

I am a nervous bride
For you Jesus of Nazareth
My bridegroom are perfect in every way
And I am a continuing work
I must continue to read your Holy Bible
And pray for my friends and family

You would have me be perfect
As my Father Yahweh
And You are perfect
Lord Jesus Christ of Nazareth
But that will be a very long process
Thankfully I will have eternity
To become perfect
I definitely need plenty of time, heh

Oh Master Jesus Christ of Nazareth
You raised brother Lazarus after He had been
I need the tomb four days
You are so powerful and mighty

Wrap your loving arms around me
Master Jesus Christ of Nazareth
Comfort me
For I am weak and weary
I am suffering
But I must endure
And continue to carry my cross for you

Continue to create in me a more
Loving and forgiving heart
Oh Divine Master
Jesus Christ of Nazareth

For you Master Jesus of Nazareth
Have created me for your pleasure
Oh Lord of Hosts Master Jesus

I am just learning about your perfect love
Master Jesus of Nazareth
Oh how I stumble and fall
Please steady my feeble knees

For You are the King of Glory
The bright and morning star
The Lion of the tribe of Judah
All is known to you
Master Jesus Christ of Nazareth

And I belong to you
Master Jesus of Nazareth
You delivered me and restored me
Master Jesus of Nazareth

I will kiss your perfect feet
Oh yes I will
When the time is right
I grow weary
Fill me with your Holy Spirit
Penetrate me with your Ruachakodesh
Master Jesus Christ of Nazareth
Make love to me

I am vulnerable
And I must tell you the deepest desires of my heart
We are courting now
But soon I will attend the Marriage Supper of the Lamb
And then the consummation of our marriage
How I look forward to submitting to you fully

I must admit I am a bit of a nervous bride
You are all knowing and all powerful
Master Jesus Christ of Nazareth

Oh Master Jesus of Nazareth
You pour out your tender mercies to me each day
I sin but you are so quick to forgive me

I am so beautiful
Because you made me that way
I put all my hope
And all my trust and faith
In You
Master Jesus of Nazareth
My Messiah, restorer, redeemer, and Savior
Lord Jesus of Nazareth

How do you wish to make love to me
Master Jesus of Nazareth?
Make love to me
In a way that brings you the most pleasure
I am a bit nervous
But I trust you completely
I want you to be so totally satisfied
For you created me so You could make love to me
Master and Lord Jesus Christ of Nazareth

Our wedding day
Will be the most wonderful day
Of my eternal existence

I lie on our beautiful marriage bed
You are such a good friend Master Jesus of Nazareth
We must move slowly
Total and complete submission to you
Still frightens me somewhat
But I know it is what you desire...

Oh Master Jesus of Nazareth
My Lord, Savior, redeemer, and restorer
How do you wish to make love to me?

I love you always and forever
My King and Savior Jesus Christ of Nazareth
I know you will help me to learn how to love more deeply

For you are such a faithful, patient, forgiving, loving,
And perfect bridegroom!
All honor and power and might and glory
And strength and majesty belongs to you
Master Jesus Christ of Nazareth

For you are Lord of Lords and King of Kings
You are Lord of heaven and Lord of earth
You are Lord of the new heaven and Lord of the new earth

And I belong to you
My Lord and Savior
My King and Restorer
Master Jesus Christ of Nazareth
Tori Hart May 2014
You sat on the other end of the table
Glistening, shining, and taunting me
Rosy cheeks with spurts of Yellow and Green
Silently teasing
A juicy, little Apple.
Hopefully no one would see me, no one would pay any attention
As I grabbed the treat and the knife
And began to dangerously peel.
I knew I was doing it wrong
My hands shaking while my cheeks began to flush
Embarrassed by my ignorant inadequacy.
Are you left-handed? she asked from my left.
Humiliation filled the corners of my eyes, wet and distraught.
No, I mumbled. My cheeks reflecting Mose's Red Sea.
I was beginning to drown.
Your thumb needs to move, You make me nervous,
and she sounded nervous indeed.
Put it down here. Help yourself control it. Guide it.
Everyone was staring now, the whole table awed
My ignorance showing, like a medallion at my chest
My shameful Apple as pathetic proof.
You're doing it wrong.
Non così. Basta, faccio io.
Let me do it.
You're about to graduate, and you can't peel an apple.
I began choking, drowning in tears of Humiliation.
No, let her do it the small Voice on my left said.
She is finding her way. Let me watch her.
I finished peeling the Apple
Suffocating my tears as I ate.
You remind me of Daisy, she said soon after
From The Great Gatsby.
I choked and laughed, more ashamed than ever.
I'm not sure that is a compliment.
I could barely muster a mumble.
She couldn't do anything by herself.
She looked at me, gentle and forgiving.
I think it is, she replied
Wistful and Wise.
Daisy was vital to the story, you know.
And I believe that given the chance, she could have done anything that she wanted
*On her own.
"Sbagliando, si impara."
Eloisa Sep 2019
She made her crown out of thorns and broken things and built a castle in her ruins
and became a forgiving queen.
~Bravery
curlygirl Nov 2014
Find a Poet Not a poser, not a "it's just a hobby" poet. Find one who mumbles lines as they scramble for a pen at breakfast; who shakes their head randomly when their thoughts aren't rhyming properly;  who has notebooks stashed around the house that you must never touch.
2. Listen Savor the spoken words, for those are harder to express. Keep in mind that they can't be edited and re-written, and be forgiving when a mistake is made.
3. Read The body speaks as loudly as words on a page do. When their eyes are closed or focused on the ceiling and the fingers are tapping out syllables, recognize the unique process. Respect the need for quiet, because if you look closely, you can read the poem on their face before they write it on the page.
4. Write Write your story together. Grab hold of the pen and hang on as you move across the page of life. Sometimes you will dance across, others you will be dragged. You may have to cross out a word, or a line, or a page, but don't give up. Discouragement is a poet's biggest enemy, inarticulateness their biggest fear. So end each day with a semi-colon, because the story will never end the way you think it will, and there must be room for more. There is always room for more, more words, more laughter, more tears, more love,
When you love a poet.
Ekuu Oct 2014
The choices you make,
between hating and forgiving,
can become the story of your life*.
Shang Dec 2013
my sister thought my mother
had died on her lap;
she walked to the bathroom
inside that depthless hospital hotel.

the putrid smell of life and death
all through-out this concrete heaven
and hell.

at the age of fifty-four
my mother's bones would
carry no more weight.

her gentle heart
her forgiving mind
her words so strong

but mine,
they are forced out
by constricted wind-pipes
and angry words

i glanced down at the cot, where my mother died
as I made contact with my mother's pale-blue eyes
she looked at me with the most helpless,
childish face I've ever seen.
as if to say:
"he isn't here.. where is he...
where could he be?"


she lived thirty more minutes.

he arrived a few hours later, asking:
"how's she doin'?"

never take for granted,
someone's borrowed time.
(C) Shang
Allen Wilbert Nov 2013
Gangsta

I'm the gangsta who can rap,
give me **** and on your face I'll crap.
I'm the gangsta who is white,
you all know my rhymes are tight.
I'm the gangsta who calls the shots,
inside my head are tiny blood clots.
I'm the gangsta who will kick your ***,
show me respect, or I'll take you to class.
I'm the gangsta who does no wrong,
only the good stuff, goes into my big ****.
I'm the gangsta who needs no gun,
carrying a pen is much more fun.
I'm the gangsta loved by all,
black people call me the chosen cue ball.
I'm the gangsta who needs no posse,
hating people who are to **** bossy.
I'm the gangsta who poses no threat,
always broke and knee deep in debt.
I'm the gangsta who likes living,
never forgets, but sometimes forgiving.
I'm the gangsta who doesn't care,
walking around in my stained underwear.
I'm the gangsta who can't sing,
but if I bite, it will sting.
I'm the gangsta like no other,
if you don't believe, just ask my mother.
Korey Miller Oct 2012
stars and stardust fall to freedom
from the press corpse,
from the incessant demand of chemical crises.
crowds ache for love or a substitute
and false amore is what they have.
love is folie a deux-
[the shared madness of two.]
attachment is an affliction,
infatuation is disease leaping from remission,
with deadly symptoms.
red roses lead to black coffin doors,
roses dropped on floors
from vases shattered,
and life is the water spilling from the stems.

golden hair won't keep me docile-
blue eyes and a smile
are weapons of mass destruction-
cities sunk and flags risen
from the depths of inhumanity.
it's all for you, Helen, and humankind will never
perceive its aftereffects,
its hangover headache
sprawled over the world on a bad day.
little city partylights and shiny beer bottles
broken upon the concrete
covering the grass.
reflections of insanity upon the glass.

devilish, the temptress,
the succubus, a mistress
sent by Him, to spin doubt into
the spiderwebbed life of family trees
split in two by axes, divorces
to fifty percent, no-
no wedding band-aid will stop this flood.
abandonment.
neglect gets to a child's head-
can't help but wonder if
they were the cause of this.
little anchors,
keeping the heart in one place-
an anchored rubber band that demoness
stretched and snapped.
the relapse gave her whiplash, and
the stepdad whipped the boy's back, and
the boy grew up and
found a girl to take his pain to.
she gave him five stunted children,
with eyes hollow and glazed,
a mechanical response to a command.

lack of emotion only seems cruel
to those on the other side.
lack of flourish means nothing
to those who grew up to grey skies.

chains and handcuffs keep stardust grounded,
remains from a nebula which
birthed a black hole.
straight razors and pinky nails
teach fledglings to reach for the sky
and never fall back down.
glass ceilings never seemed so
breakable- tiptoe upsidedown
and reach the other side
before you fall back down to the real world.

angels have no eyes.
angels have no souls.
angels judge and leave the helpless for below.
cliffsides crumble and clouds dissipate,
and the devil lends a hand-
he is helping sinners make it up to him.
in his face sit eyes gleaming brightly;
there are teeth grinning, off-white-
he is human, though sadistic
and he understands your plight.
the devil is forgiving,
and you understand nothing, because you
are nothing.
you are nothing.

stars and stardust fall to freedom, and the devil takes in all.
kellie scranton Jul 2017
We were a strange kind
your mind ignited mine
we grew on eachother like a fertilized vine
& crashed and burned before our time

ours is a tale I long to rewrite
let ink spill out, 7 chapters in a night
regretting words I hissed in spite
forgiving ourselves for ending the fight

I'd start back before I knew your name
slip into to a less polluted time
before I cried after drinking red wine
back when our souls were intertwined

before contracts of our destiny were signed  
before my heart was forced to resign
once upon a time,
I was yours and you were mine
check out more of my poetry on Instagram @dirtyblondepoetry
to be determined Jun 2018
The sun is shining and
moonbeams glisten through the air.
Moon, not sun.
While the sun shone
and incinerated the sloshing intestines of
vengeful beasts;
the gentle and forgiving moon
projected from their eyes and
caught the ****** maw of a starving deer.
Suitcases of leather stacked behind us
filled with spruce, pine, elm, oak, cherry.
Ready for induction t
o our paperless society
which consumes the forests of
Hippolyta and Antiope mercilessly.
Burning every leaf
then forgetting to feel
because nothing mattered.
Everything never mattered.
Facts are lie, opinion is truth.
“No one is nothing”
they shriek to the heavens
striving to be limitless
and scorning morality. Embrace death
and all its glory.
Life, while full of happiness
and gorgeous splendor,
refuses to acknowledge the
magnitude of the word. The thing.
Falling and reading and lines
and circles and explosions
and whimpers and screams. Agony suffered
silently, alone; never understood
because how could it?
What could totally encompass
the raging fire that devours the veins
and burns from the inside out
kept in place by the impenetrable
flesh that glints in the forgiving moonlight.
A hostile exterior that
smiles, waves, laughs on cue to
disguise the raging storm
fighting its way through from inside.
The shell which shrinks from the moonbeam
and into the harsh sunlight
that filters beneath the floating clouds.
Steve Page May 2017
And when you stand
Ready to raise your hands
In prayer to heaven
Consider your heart and ask -
Do you have any hardfeelings
Anyone who you need to be forgiving
Any ill feeling that needs divine healing?
Cos if there is
Then you know that needs dealing
Before you can get to your kneeling
And your Father can truely hear your appealing.
And don't think it's worth trying concealing
No, simply deal with it by giving some forgiving
And then you can engage with some true conversing
With your loving Father listening in heaven.
Mark 11:25 "And when you stand praying, if you hold anything against anyone, forgive them, so that your Father in heaven may forgive you your sins.”
Deb Jones Jan 2019
Forgiving
This is a hard lesson to learn
Forgiving someone...
Doesn’t mean we have to tell them
We forgive for our own sanity
Not theirs.
Trayc Plaja Jan 2014
Mistakes
One after the other.
Trying to fix them.
Exhausting.
Forgiving yourself easy.
Others forgiving you not so easy.
Mistakes?
How long do we call them that till we realize they are called **** UPS and can not be taken back.
EVER....
Nikita Dec 2015
I may not be agressive or violent
But Im protective
So dont expect me to be kind to you
Don't except me to smile at you
Don't expect me to think high of you
If you've done wrong to one of my friends.
They may have seen passed your mistakes but I'm not so forgiving ✳
My friends are my family
Hurt them and you better watch your back "pal"
forgiveness for self is a thunderstorm ferocious,
cracking sounds so god awful fearful
that one questions his-her sanity,
an overage so unnatural that
only nature could create it

it is a moment momentousness
when the exhalation of exhaustion,
the winner and loser, both you,
surrender ne’er knowing
which you is which,
life’s son of *****, or just a plain jane mothering version,
either way you say to yourself got to
get past that lousy stinking
love affair
win the race to clean slate,
where the end is insight where everything replaced
in its used to be placed

goaded into melted nothingness,
goaded into believing that’s a real thing,
that when you finally get there,
enough is enough,  
get out of jail ticket will work,
but it ain’t never free,
even if you paid for it in
what you call
throwing bad after good,
monopoly money,
nope, ain’t never free

no idea what to put in the second empty closet,
who needs an attached to-the-wall-tile
toothbrush holder with one extra emptying space,
where to hide picture albums in a space
outta sight, outta mind, you still can find

why you didn’t care enough to
daily mat-wipe street shoes before
riveted in place
before entering your own! apartment and no,
you are consciously unconscious immobilized by
the missing calling out of her “don’t forget”

in the car’s ashtray,
a red kissed blotted red lipstick
tissue that needs discard-action,
but you incapable of either,
those collected records and cd’s,
her teasing your old fashion ways,
reluctance to let go

so you read
“that to forgive one self doesn’t forgive forgetting”
and it hits home, home run, score to the core,
since you wrote those words on a sun rain afternoon,
a punctuating thunderstorm day
refusing to decide
which
haunts worse

<>
Warren-Johnson Nov 2017
Love  be not selfish
Love be not jealous
Love be not envious
Love be not rude
Love be not idle

Love be an emotion
Love be faithful
Love be forgiving
Love be a want
Love be a hope
Love be a need
Love be joy
Love be selfless
Love be true
Love be kind
Love be patient
Love be righteous
Love be respectful
Love be trusting

Love be a home filled with children's laughter.
Love is greeting a stranger with a sincere smile.
Love is treating others with care, taking a small moment in all our activities to consider the next person.

Looking at our world, if love was a species, surely it it would be a protected species.

So
Is love still alive ?
I'm sure yes
God created us in his image
God is love
So
Love was Our species (the human)
Love should be me
Love should be you
Love should be a nation
Love should be our race

What have we become?
A Writer Sep 2015
When it rains it pours,
The storm of life is never forgiving.
Often giving us more than we feel like we can handle.
It floods our bodies with emotion, stress, anxiety, and depression.
We can either tread through the flood, or let it drown us.
Kripi Sep 2013
Upagupta* the disciple of Buddha lay asleep on the dust by the city wall of Mathura,
Lamps were all out, doors were all shut, and stars
Were all hidden by the murky sky of August, Whose feet were those tinkling with anklets, touching his breast of a sudden?

He woke up startled, and the light from a woman's lamp struck his forgiving eyes.

It was the dancing girl , starred with jewels,
Clouded with a pale-blue mantle, drunk with the wine of her youth.
She lowered her lamp and saw the youth face, austerely beautiful.
" Forgive me, young ascetic"* , said the woman,
" Graciously come to my house. The dusty earth is not a fit bed for you."

The branches of the wayside trees were aching with blossom,
Gay notes of the flute come floating in the warm spring air from afar.
The citizens had gone to the woods, to the festival of flowers.
From the mid- sky gazed the full moon on the shadows of the silent town.
The young ascetic was walking in the lonely street, while overhead the love-sick
koels urged from the mango orchards their sleepless plaint. Upagupta passed through the city gates, and stood at the base of the rampart.

What woman lay in the shadow of the wall at his feet, struck with black pestilence, her body spotted with sores, hurriedly driven away from the town?
The ascetic sat by her side, taking her head on his knees, and moistened her lips with water and smeared her body with balm.

"Who are you, merciful one?" asked the woman.
"The time, at last, has come to visit you, and I am here", replied the young ascetic.
"Upagupta" is a fine poem written by Rabindranath Tagore. The poem has a beautiful theme. It shows that a person is known by the action he does. The greatness of his characters is reflected through his deeds. One must practice the principle of simple living and high thinking in life. Physical beauty is short-lived. So one should not feel proud of it. Only good actions done by a person is remembered by people. They live even after his death.
Carter Ginter Dec 2018
I feel so torn
I love them a lot
Except I feel like
I can't love them as freely as I want to
Because they remind me of an ex
I want so desperately to let go of
I want to move on with my life
And to love them entirely for them
Without the ripples of her
Skating across my perception
I feel trapped in my mind sometimes
Living through past memories
That only make me feel sadness now
And I wonder if that closure I seek
Can occur if I can forgive myself
For hurting her so much
How can I take responsibility and
Embrace my faults and mistakes
While also forgiving myself for them?
Forgive myself for hurting her?
Especially after realizing that
My emotional unavailability caused it
And I understand that I must remain compassionate
And I must accept the things I cannot change
It's just hard not to shame myself
When the blame fits so perfectly
In the palms of my hands
Allen Wilbert Nov 2013
Gangsta

I'm the gangsta who can rap,
give me **** and on your face I'll crap.
I'm the gangsta who is white,
you all know my rhymes are tight.
I'm the gangsta who calls the shots,
inside my head are tiny blood clots.
I'm the gangsta who will kick your ***,
show me respect, or I'll take you to class.
I'm the gangsta who does no wrong,
only the good stuff, goes into my big ****.
I'm the gangsta who needs no gun,
carrying a pen is much more fun.
I'm the gangsta loved by all,
black people call me the chosen cue ball.
I'm the gangsta who needs no posse,
hating people who are to **** bossy.
I'm the gangsta who poses no threat,
always broke and knee deep in debt.
I'm the gangsta who likes living,
never forgets, but sometimes forgiving.
I'm the gangsta who doesn't care,
walking around in my stained underwear.
I'm the gangsta who can't sing,
but if I bite, it will sting.
I'm the gangsta like no other,
if you don't believe, just ask my mother.

— The End —