"forsee" poems
We Are The First Responders
We are the first responders
The many in the blue
We protect you from the fires
And from those who would harm you
We heal with a helping hand
And respond to all who call
We are the first responders
The ones who see it all
You ask us to protect you
And you call when you're in need
You get mad if we're a minute late
To a crime we cant forsee
You run quickly from the fire
We run toward the burning flames
You take the drugs to harm yourself
Still we treat you just the same
We see a fear that's in your eyes
Yet we stand straight and true
We are the first responders
And we do this all for you
Carl Joseph Roberts
Sep 11, 2013
Sep 11, 2013 at 5:00 AM UTC
My mom offers me a bowl of oatmeal she cooked at seven.
It is eight.
Sitting on the stove, it looks clumpy and cold —
a mash drowning raisins.
I pretend like I don’t see it.
But it calls my name as I start my day,
even though it looks repulsive
and I have avoided oatmeal since college.
I toast some bread.
She glances over the counter to see if I am paying attention —
a reflex from my childhood.
Because as a child,
my parents said I had selective attention. —
sometimes I listened and other times I didn’t.
When they got divorced, it got worse.
I was distracted by the bristle of my dad's 5 o’clock shadow
and the sigh in my mom's voice when they asked me
separately,
What time I needed to leave?
and
If all my stuff was packed?
But all I kept thinking was:
Is that all there is?
You get married, get divorced, and cart around your kids.
The thought of swallowing this is repulsive.
like leftover oatmeal, it stares me in the face.
I don't want it.
Most girls I know are raisins —
They already have their whole
wedding planned on Pinterest,
and their kids names picked out.
Everytime, I see engagements on FB,
I can't help but forsee divorce
and I wonder why people run for a
partner, kids, and a mortgage,
when in college their
ambitions were more.
I wonder when their
mid-life crisis will be,
or when they'll wake up
and want more than
9 to 5 to fulfill a lie
patriarchy put forth.
So I spread peanut butter on toast and
murmur, “I put the oatmeal in the fridge — someone will eat it.”
My mom puts her head down and finishes her coffee.
I eat my peanut butter sandwich.
I am stuck trying to answer an impossible question,
as she begins sentences like
"Once you get settled,
you'll want to look for someone..."
I tune out.
I don't have selective attention,
just the perception that
everyone is ignoring
this important question:
Is that all there is?
Sep 2, 2014
Sep 2, 2014 at 3:06 PM UTC
I'm sorry boo
I never meant to
Couldn't forsee this happening
Oh god what have I done?
Am I unfaithful...
Thats been on my mind this past couple of hours
I didnt mean to say what I did
Was trying to be nice and friendly
Trying to brighten their mood
I wasnt looking for love
I have you
Right?
You'll stay here right?
I'm scared...
Terrified
Petrified
Mortified
What have I done
Am I unfaithful...
I cant live with myself
Whyd i act in such a way
What's wrong with me
The voices they scream inside
Someone please help me
I've dishonored myself
My character
My partner and
my morales
Sep 22, 2015
Sep 22, 2015 at 9:00 PM UTC
i love the fact that most people
rather enter the concept
of karma rather dialectics
to argue their point - makes
emily austen seem like a nutcracker
of ideas to come from
ikea as the self-assembled semi-detached
heights, otherwise known as wuthering, heights
or the disco-ball done in mahoganny eyed splinter
shine - sheens the spot!
it's just so ****** blocked nose rotten,
the opposite of polite society,
a bit like the middle-ages... reigning
paranoia imported from a lost colony,
library cards of blue indian peasants
turned into pheasants that did the cancan dance
all of a sudden... miracles christ couldn't even forsee!
i'm free every saturday if you're hashtag up-for-it...
never mind... i'll leave my quote and oil my phone-number
for a missing mobile telepathic nuance on
when differentiating blue indians with garam masala
and red indians with mohawks - easiest game of all:
snakes & ladders, noughts & crosses... garam masala & mohawks.
Dec 5, 2015
Dec 5, 2015 at 8:26 PM UTC
You grabbed
The rope and chair
And hanged yourself
In the air
You listened to
The voices and their pleas
As they celebrate
Your death with glee
You closed your eyes
As they smiled
As they partied
Like animals, so wild
For you have commited
A sin they craved
That has sent you
To your grave
...
You opened your eyes
And so far as you can see
Is an endless void
That you did not forsee
You regretted the decision
That you have made
But it is now
Far too late
Jan 21, 2019
Jan 21, 2019 at 8:30 AM UTC
They say, no man is an island
Yet an island can be reshaped
By a tornado, hurricane, or a earthquake
Mother nature rules with an iron fist
To place her stakes on the land of the living
They say, no man is an island
But there must be a better way
For other nations and countries
Come together and embrace
To restructure our governments,
Working together, rebuilding, maybe, even see
The humanity in eachother giving
To help those, who can not help themselves
They say, no man is an island
All the justice and laws in the world
Wouldn't correct it's poverty
In exchange, for it's wealth
Animated politicians
Speaking in tongues
Atoned to be totally clueless
Unaware of the next existing
Killer of lives
They say, no man is an island
To forsee at last
Battle of waves of storms to come
Genocide, Nuclear, Wars
Will come again, and again
History repeats, in cirlces
It never ends
They say, no man is an island
The inadequate versions of getting things right
Should be a must, for the change with truth and trust
People having the will or the lack of
Food, water, protection, health care
That ain't right
To not be inform and share
They say, no man is an island,
But there's just has to be a better way
People taken care of people
Living life better than it once was yesterday
Families who have lost, buried, and shed many of tears
Placed their memories of loved ones
To cross over into the light
Have lost more than just a home, family, neighbors
One thing one must not lose is
The spirit inside to have
They say, no man is and island
For every man, woman and child
Is of the land of their island
Hope is not ones plan alone
The plan simply is of many...
Faith, Memories, Freedom, Dreams, and Hope
Feb 13, 2010
Feb 13, 2010 at 1:59 AM UTC
You're going on the highway,
Bringing a new 4-string bass guitar,
And a drum-set too for your sons.
Now you could be a family rock band,
You could churn your own Summer of '69,
The world will know you three now.
A really hot chick hitchhikes in your car,
You are tensed as your eyes meet.
There is unfathomable longing in hers,
And the bathykolpian woman's so inviting.
You can't play the good man at this age,
You decide to cheat your own wife now.
You stop the car quickly anyhow,
A quickee's on your mind & nothin' more.
She smiles at you and lunging towards her,
You smell the inviting scent of hers.
In middle of the kiss you start foreseeing,
You forsee a bright romantic future,
Suddenly her wellbeing's lost & she vomits.
Then you bring her to the hospital,
The gynaecologist congratulates you,
"Congrats! You're going to be a father!"
Taken aback, you say, "But I just met her!"
The girl who hitchhiked says, ***"He's ****** lying!"***
The doc summons the police and your test is done,
"Good news & bad news," the doc says,
"One, you're not her baby's father."
Hearing this you're relieved.
"Now the bad news, doc," you say.
The doc says, "You could have never have fathered any even if you intended to."
You are flabbergasted, "What the hell! Why?"
The doc pacifies, "Your load doesn't have any sperms,"
Seeing you shocked the doctor says,
***"It's a birth defect that happens rarely but yes it does..."
"...You may sue the girl for everything."***
The biggest shock in your life so far.
You just shake your head and turn around to go.
You're in the middle of a nightmare,
It couldn't be true!
***If not you then the 2 kids back home,
They belonged to whom!***
Now that's the biggest tension!
Sep 24, 2016
Sep 24, 2016 at 5:32 AM UTC
Allah’s messenger said, ‘Allah has ninety-nine names, one hundred less one and he who memorized them all by heart will enter paradise.’ To count something means to know it by heart - Sahi Bukhari, Vol. 9, Book 93, Hadith 489
Cook her with Honey, Sweets, Glorious Sugar
Peaches and Hares, Soft Haired Stranger
smells like Tulips, Beloved Roses, Jasmines,
Violets, Blessed Lilies, Lotus Stars and Songbirds
First Born, Second Born, Eighth Born
The Oldest Daughter, Shy and Timid
My Father’s Blessings, My Mother’s Tears
Promise of God, God is My Father
One Who is Alive, a Songbird Fantasy
Person of the Night who Loves the
Beautiful Night Rain, *****
Jezebel’s Daughter, Detesting Witch
she is One Who Can Forsee, Prideful,
Original Sin, Woman of White Magic
Wild As a Mountain Goat
Torch of Light, Light of Mine, Light All Around
watch the Woman with Crown, a Woman of Victory
Truthful Ruler of the House, Ruler with a Spear
Fighting Filled With Wrath, Strong as a Little Bear
Battle Armor From the Land of the Broken
Protector of Sunrise and Nightfall
Fighting a Battle in Winter with
Wisdom and Justice
A Princess Who Has A Heart of Gold
Beauty, A Woman of High Manners
Noble Queen, Radiant Precious Stone
Shining Diamond, Like Smooth Dark Wood
our Possession, our Brand New Home, our Feast
A Reward Given, an Afterthought Charity, Chaste Homemaker
Wealthy Companion, Warm Fire, Compassionate Nurse
Say the Prayers with Heavy Stones
Divine Woman. Universal Woman.
God’s Messenger,
Holiness, Living.
Jun 29, 2019
Jun 29, 2019 at 5:03 PM UTC
Can we ever come
to the marvel
terrace
to
forsee
each others beauty
Why do you play
with such an extension
there at the sea
where
Time dances
on a lapse
of a warmest
heart wish
There are little holes
written in the sands
sublime
there
Here
everywhere
Resounding beats
follow thoughts
and float as
reminiscing
letters
Or other way around
among
words
I'm
lost
where there aren't any
Any
'You'
is a Genius
for me
Yet You,
just you, near me
for me
real
enough
possible
potent
actualization
Brahma
Shiva
Shakti
Love
Dance
A burning bush in a desert of dreams
Serenity
Harmony
Wish you can feel free
Wish you can be free
Wish you can be with
me
wonder male
wander male
on whales
where
one beat meets
beats
in beating
my hands make invisible
waves
parallaxing
through ether
To reach eruptions
the Sun
of Time
Moon ebbs in my mind
i'm swirling away
landing
on a mystic meadow
of your poetic Beauty
Your- Self
Reinforced, thrown
deep into an ever-last toe rings
on an Elephants
translucent
magic foam
of mystery
memories
always fresh
in a Divine Cauldron
of
this unthinkable
Cosmic Conundrum
Calm creatures
Lovely woods
melting
rising
poe
is dead
percussion of our ohm
a constant
pace
slow
tender
Time
4
Love
Feb 9, 2015
Feb 9, 2015 at 1:02 PM UTC
I speak your name
I touch you
from the cold you emerge
have I known you?
has it come to the point
where hearts must bleed
before they sing?
I can not believe
that I have loved you
for so long
and yet not see
what went wrong along the way
that the door between us
just snapped shut
have you suffered
cruelties that I
did not forsee?
and with a heavy load
that wanted to unburden itself
I cried....
long ago and far away
I seem to recall
you cradled me in your arms
the feeling stuck
to always haunt my mind
I ache with longing
for your touch
when was it born
this bitterness in our hearts?
why have we nursed it deep within
only to find shadows
climbing on our backs
clawing their way into the
very essence of our togetherness
somehow I believe
you must have loved me too
but that is gone now
and everything is through.....
Dec 10, 2015
Dec 10, 2015 at 6:35 AM UTC
It fascinates to ponder on
what lights a person's spark
What invokes an individual
To create a work of art
Would a sunrise inspire
poetic masterpiece
Or a mere brain ****
Would the changing seasons
Bring writers blocks and wrongs
Or the falling leaf in the equinox
Make you wanna write songs?
To some a leaping cute spring lamb
Might give poetic joy in its wake
For others they forsee its beauty
On a top notch dining plate!
Sep 23, 2014
Sep 23, 2014 at 8:39 PM UTC
Am I in Love?
At night, laying sleepless,
I bemoan the treacheries of life
with my love
and appreciation....
And though,
in my dark,
and cavernous foundations;
Roar the pillars of stone,
and shake them.
Waked,
by curiosity,
and interest,
I stare intently at you,
and though I cannot see,
You are there.
Tangible,
by my creativity,
and invisible,
by my negativity.
And through the secret game
that to many, has forbidden name
we speak.
Fear,
and pride,
my greatest hatreds,
now run through me,
though the game of
Predator, and Prey.
I am the prey,
of myself,
in the black vapors
of my confusion,
you two rought me
with confusion
elaborate,
and woe,
despicable.
My thoughts now strand
off into many divisions,
all joining together,
to reveal my fear,
of disappointing you.
The thing we connect through bings,
and so we remain in contact, it seems.
But ever, we thought beautiful
I am marred, and proved untruthful.
You do not deserve me,
but somehow
in this void-feeling heart of mine,
I sense you care.
I care.
Am i in love?
My Mind craves you,
and I put much emphasis on that,
for that, might,
just might,
be my undoing.
Should I look to the East,
to find you, riding, in
shining, and metallic armor,
And see only dust clouds
roam aimlessly from North to South.
But I hear banners, in the West,
all risen high,
as high hopes,
and high spirits,
to guide them.
This, is what I've waited for,
for years,
as do we all.
But my misinterpretations,
now lead the banners,
with silver swords,
bearing the name of hate.
with this,
I deserve only
to lay my head down,
lamely, for you to hew it
from me, and call it,
Victory.
This, I forsee,
this unsensible
and crazed
sight,
that passes through me,
and guides me
to all darker paths of light.
So that I may be dimmed,
and in a cycle refrained,
I should, as a doomsayer,
say my doom,
and I, as a fool,
should subconciously make that true.
This is what I see.
I fear, for you,
and fear,
for me.
I burden all, though a child
and my will is heavy, upon you,
and wild, is my desires
and should you penetrate my curtains,
you should see,
the cold bitterness, of my truth.
But all the while,
mind and soul crave you,
and body revives,
slowly,
but surely.
I sense love,
and my stomach churns,
knowing I shall hang my head
in Guilt.
Am I In Love?
Jul 10, 2010
Jul 10, 2010 at 3:26 PM UTC
Married a delectable rose
couldn’t forsee the woes
her actions would compose
A flirtatious flower
men with kisses shower
her mysterious power
She spread her petals far and wide
his beautiful bride
no longer a source of pride
a lingering scent
he now repents
the passion he spent
His rose had thorns
his feelings scorned
her loss he mourns
Jun 17, 2013
Jun 17, 2013 at 1:20 PM UTC
import: the northern tongue bespoke of the didgeridoo with the larynx as akin. północ ze mną... reszta gnije! a ja w twym oku jak dziób kruka wydłubie prawde raz - kraka - raz jeszcze na pokaz chociaż raz! bo ze mnie nie kura... jeno kruk! czemu? bo ty swym tłumaczeniem grzechu równasz gniew naprzeciw: w okolicy reprodukcji z tłumaczeniem orgnanizacji społeczenstwa jako wedle znaku (=) ktory też jest równaniem jako krzyż... a wiec jest naprawde wiarygodne to aby kontynuować wybaczanie niby grzechów i tak naprawde praw w rubryce niespełnionych pierw zamiarów?
why then peer into the past without imagination,
and try to peer within the present with memory,
surely the present will not conjure any memory
had the opaque past any imagination,
i’d swear the burnish bush be nothing more
than what could be imagined,
not excess of skin on my phallus
as the shaft known as the female circumcised bit...
but i guess truth sidewinds while lies have the fortune
of walking a straight path into nowhere...
if there is imagination in the past i find it hard
to conceive phonetic images, i.e. letters being allowed in there,
and if future forsee such circumstance
i find it hard to let the future project images
as recognisable without a - z being recognisable first...
in order that they might be used... in order
that they might be used for ignorance’s sake if only that...
man remembers skeletons easier in terms of usage
rather than fully embodied canves of a van gogh
to say **** all... as most men do,
dating their mistresses for the first time in art galleries;
the fault of the past is that in terms of imagination it
cannot be re-imagined... but the future can be twice
remembered... given holocaust deniers...
simple... it can be simply denied because
what imagination would have conjured
reality conjured too much iron acidity of what went on;
please be intelligent when you read this,
i don’t have many readers and it’s already insulting
to ask my readers for intelligence; sorry.
Dec 9, 2015
Dec 9, 2015 at 9:08 PM UTC
I’m sliding down the ladder of life
Doing the Jacob thing in reverse.
Most of the people I meet now
Are either medical doctors or a nurse.
I’m in that phase where my hearing
Is about as good as my vision.
I don’t walk all that well at all
Due to my aging condition.
That’s the way things sometimes go
You might be clueless or you might know.
There may be signs so you can guess
Or you may find yourself a total mess.
Looking back over who I have been,
Like most of the young, I didn’t forsee
Or take much to heart the chances
That things like this would happen to me.
I thought myself invulnerable and
Incapable of ever growing old
Callously heeding no elders’s words
I simply refused to be told.
I thought the warnings I heard
Were from some clueless wags
And burned candles at both ends
Until the wick began to sag.
Now the creamy sooth skin,
Or what version I once ever had,
Begins to betray with brown spots,
And I admit it once made me mad.
But I have managed to accept
Many of the shortcomings of tomorrow.
It’s the loss of mobility I dislike;
That delivers me so much sorrow.
Feb 26, 2018
Feb 26, 2018 at 6:01 PM UTC
Days flash past my shadow
Unable to distinguish your face.
Missing someone is overestimated
An individual can't be missed
But how you felt in his presence
Will subsist.
Love conquers as endless matter
Thus exposing your heart is key,
For a new world to perceive.
An unknown yet
familiar ardor rushes through my veins,
I thence forsee you're present but somehow
Gone away.
Humankind around neglected you
Trust is reasonably locked into your gut
Disowning is no option,
Neither patronizing you;
Been there myself.
Dark nights
Dark thoughts;
Disoriented your head,
But reincarneted who you are today.
Don't contemplate there is no better.
Stand high on your feet,
Drown yourself on memories
That once made you
Complete.
Perhaps I'll never be your future,
Perhaps my existence to you is nonsense.
Straightforwardly;
Merely knowing you're no longer lost,
Will be my cue for moving on.
Sep 14, 2016
Sep 14, 2016 at 11:38 PM UTC
Tonight the very notion that steals my mental devotion, is that chance play a motion in that commotion concerning whether one receives a demotion or a promotion
To be lucky or unlucky! It must feel a little yucky, perhaps a bit sucky, that your ability to forsee outcomes is a tad mucky
You might play your hand and find your decision be grand, or life may demand that you be reprimand, where things may not go as planned as you receive a backhand
Hell you may just strike gold, where you luck begins to unfold, where your wealth was withhold, it may just so happen you behold your gold increase eightfold!
People like to be upset due to all the others they've met who don't seem to sweat and carry no debt, people who fret thinking they deserve a corvette or a big shiny jet that they'll get when they win the grand luck roulette.
Still I think that it shows that even if life blows, when the sky fills with crows and your luck seems to have froze, luck is just a fact of life that nobody knows
With the good comes the bad, with the happy the sad, with the boring the rad, that luck is quite a fad
Just know that whether you're hung out to dry or live in Versailles, whether you hit the bulls-eye or things go awry, have everything money can buy or just barely scrape by, you just can't deny your life is at the mercy of life's invisible die
May 4, 2016
May 4, 2016 at 12:45 AM UTC
I know how painful it is to not know if the one you care for would ever return
I promised these words I thought I could keep and sealed each with a future we both thought we could forsee
I shed tears and you offered your shoulder despite the distance that laid in between
Every breath was beautiful, every emotion was genuine and never a disarray of words
Every night was an ending and every wake of mornings had their beginnings, we both knew we would be present in each one of them
At least that's what I thought
We are a mess, shambles of living flesh yet you and I served as each other's comfort for times of distress
Sometimes words need not be said for all you had to do was to pick me up with your heavy hands and envelop me in your arms, you were my blanket
But I was a deluge of restraint who chose to have her mouth sewn by demons which tempt me to repress
You welcomed me into your mind of aesthetically aligned scenarios and tragic memories
I was stepping into your life and you showered me with gifts of assurance, and it was terrifying
I didn't know how to respond to these reciprocating feelings
But I knew that I loved every minute of it
Days that were born grew older and faster than we're told and I was a helpless victim and witness to the hours of conversations that developed into tedious virtual words
I plead guilty for keeping my silence as I watched you mouth out poetry and wisdom
It was burdening to keep coming back so I left you waiting for uncertainty
You are the soldier at war and I am the wife that grew tired and deprived
I am the selfish individual that seeks for a refreshing start while you try to win me battles I choose to fight on my own
I was blinded and kept wanting for more but what you gave me surpassed the limits of overflowing
I am the fool, not you and each night the demons mock me names on top of one another
They have been growing ever since I departed from your mending surfaces
I tried to keep my distance, but it didn't work
I had already stitched up my hands with yours, and I tore away our body parts the day I didn't say goodbye
I spit out crimson and inhale regret, every day and night
And I know it would be easier to move on if you found out I was dead instead of accepting the reality to which I promised
But my mouth turned out to be a liar so I closed my heart and left
And I am profoundly sorry for saying those three words, but know that I meant what I said
n.j.
Oct 9, 2015
Oct 9, 2015 at 8:12 AM UTC
At dinner for two
I chose a tasting menu.
Chatter was pleasant,
Until the sous-vide pheasant.
Conversation digressed:
My faults were expressed.
I did not forsee,
A deconstructed m
e.
Mar 29, 2017
Mar 29, 2017 at 7:17 AM UTC
She saw me one way
Now she sees me in another
Because of what I had to say
she no longer wants me to bother
Mature relationships I hope to have
My time I continually bide
In the wise words of Corgen
Love is Suicide
A new chapter in an old story
Self-improvement is what I need
From the lips of a past evil
Motivation and confidence is the key
So here I sit writing about my woes
she doesn't want me and that's okay
I'll find another friend who has no bo
Who actually likes what I have to say
I'm not bitter or resentful
I only wish I felt worthy
It's my fault itz seems
I let myself get curvey
Eureka, I've found it!
the life I must now live
one where I learn and be fit.
And meet those who do not shiv
It needs to be for me.
There should be a consensus
That the new life I forsee
Is not held on the fences
It's called self-actualization for a reason
A transformation done for me
My body's last days are up this season
I'll prove my worth and they'll all see
Jan 22, 2015
Jan 22, 2015 at 3:35 PM UTC
Under the soft white glare of the moon
I watched you saunter out of my door, my life to soon
The memories of you linger like your cologne
That helps mask the feeling of you being gone, me alone
I roam the house hearing your laughter
I miss our playful banter
If only you would have stayed with me that night
But only the moon seen that tragic sight
The black marks on the road is all that gives a testimony
The stars where the only witness to the ceremony
Of the Grim Reaper's touch
As your spirit he clutched
He escorted you away from the pain
Your car had skidded and flipped in the rain
My life will never again be the same
In you I had finally found
My bliss
I found my missing passion in you kiss
I found my joy for life in your arms
You chased away my demons with your charms
Your laughter repaired my broken heart
Your love making was a piece of art
Your comforting words in the middle of my despair
They where what I inhale
They where my air
Your heart was what made my blood circulate
How, oh how could this be our fate
Why did you have to go out that night
Why didn't I go with you, because this isn't right
I can't live without my missing parts
You had my heart
You where my soul
Why did you have to go
Why did you leave without me
Surly the fates could forsee
I would crumble, shatter, splinter into bits
For now all alone in our bed I sit
The tears all ran dry
I sit here and contemplate why
Feeling so **** numb inside
Wishing I too would just die
How sweet it would be to let out life's last sigh
I'll be just like that annoying magpie
I will stalk you, till you let my spirit fly
Grim Reaper let me clarify
I'm slitting my wrist and you know why
You know what that implies
My spirit you won't be able to deny
Let me kiss,my now empty life goodby
So I can once again be with my guy
In the plain beyond, in the sweet by-and-by
May 13, 2016
May 13, 2016 at 9:15 PM UTC
The pendulum swings
Quarter past three
Time bites and stings
What time will it be?
Contorted mechanics pop
Broken hands pound
The beaten face drop'd
Eaten by the devil's hound
Cuckoo bird yelps
A searing pain
Scorching helps
The birds consciousness regain
Time stands still
Psychics can't forsee
The lighthouse on a hill
Nowhere near a sea
Blood drips from the wound gears
Silently covering the floor
With my absorbed fears
Watch it close my door
Nov 27, 2012
Nov 27, 2012 at 3:41 PM UTC
some of us live for our families
others live to be above their enemies,
freedom means we are kept to make our own decisions
the battle to live is still in question,
so i ask, what do we live for?
Could it be because we'd rather appreciate our god given rights
or to try to survive each and everyday and win fights
smile while you can, and push through today,
and worry about the future later
who will come down and take the role as our saviour?
the battle to win is still in question,
so i ask, what do we live for?
Is it the religous beliefs we are taught to abide by
or to keep our children giggling so they forget to cry
either way, the bliss is found amongst the above situation
will we all sustain a level of understanding and compassion
is it in belief or kindess,
we are all here for each other to eliminate loneliness
so the battle to win is still in question,
so i ask, what do we live for?
It might take a century for us to pick up the sword
its not something that needs to be kept on a score board,
is it the pain we all surcome to
i'm thinking its the mistakes we dont learn from that is true
so could it be that we are all modified to lack and forsee
or are we stored to never recognize that we need to be
i think its us to think and set our minds free
so the final war is still in question,
so i humbly ask, what do we live for?
who and what do we live for? To answer that question, is like looking through an everlasting bottom of a well...
Apr 23, 2015
Apr 23, 2015 at 8:46 PM UTC
I feel silly wanting a life with you
you're inaccessible at best.
I'm always left in your dreams
but you don't dream, you rest.
"I'm not ready, but I wouldn't turn you away"
you're kind and blatant- honest.
I don't know how to hear your words
but it's true that you never promised.
I am shaking and dripping,
wondering if I'm always the one broken.
Curling into myself for something
I could not fathom, nor forsee.
May 8, 2011
May 8, 2011 at 10:47 PM UTC
Bigotry has a smell of death
The fuhrer would watch piles on piles of empty flesh
In the summer of 1941
On the grounds of Auschwitz, that place weighed heavier than a ton
Years after the shoah, would this understanding begin to unfold
That nothing stains the soul more indelibly than loathe
What do the blind see?
Your oratory abhorrence they forsee
They see, not your bitter visage
But their ears crush under the muscle of your burning rage
What do the deaf hear?
Even years after the passing of a yesteryear
I suppose, they hear words, like skin caressing skin
Your tirade tearing their tissues like a throw of javelin
Along Its path, since decades, turning into centuries
Before times were tamed
Even after times were maimed
Our tongues have plucked
Incessantly
The plumage of quarantined birds
With stubborn shame
And a sequence of demise ensues
Their voice also dies, so does their silence
Because after all
Bigotry has a smell of death
Mar 22, 2021
Mar 22, 2021 at 10:00 AM UTC