"founder" poems
The Kurds live
In parts of Syria, Iraq, and Iran
As well as Kurdistan
Kurdish groups such as the KCK and PJAK
Seek democratic autonomy for Kurds
And democracies in Turkey, Iran and Syria
Aposim is a grassroots socialist movement
That promotes gender equality
Apo is the political founder of the PKK and PJAK
The female fighters of PJAK
Don't have families
Because this will weaken their commitment
To the organization
Thomas Morton
Host of this Vice documentary
Stays in a farmhouse
He headed up to meet the fighters
The PJAK division he met with
Fights for women's rights
Around the Iranian border
They tell Thomas
Women are being killed in Iran
It is a mental persecution of women
The PJAK representative says
It is about the right to democracy
Freedom, Equality, and education
The woman explains that
The Iranians use Sharia and Islam
For their own purposes
It is not true Islam according
To the PJAK representative
In true Islam there is equality and equity
Thomas
That really was priceless
Watching you line dance with them
Really funny
I think the women of PJAK
Got a kick out of it too
God bless the women of PJAK
Such beautiful smiles
Full of life
Standing up for women's rights
Feb 26, 2015
Feb 26, 2015 at 1:48 AM UTC
Forth flashed the serpent streak of steel,
Consummate crown of man's device;
Down crashed upon an immobile
And brainless barrier of ice.
Courage!
The grey gods shoot a laughing lip: -
Let not faith founder with the ship!
We reel before the blows of fate;
Our stout souls stagger at the shock.
Oh! there is Something ultimate
Fixed faster than the living rock.
Courage!
Catastrophe beyond belief
Harden our hearts to fear and grief!
The gods upon the Titans shower
Their high intolerable scorn;
But no god knoweth in what hour
A new Prometheus may be born.
Courage!
Man to his doom goes driving down;
A crown of thorns is still a crown!
No power of nature shall withstand
At last the spirit of mankind:
It is not built upon the sand;
It is not wastrel to the wind.
Courage!
Disaster and destruction tend
To taller triumph in the end.
5.9k
Is it really this hard
to find people I can go back and forth in discussion with
about Buddhist and Hindu theology compared and contrasted against Christian and Yoruba
I want to scream and shout and dance with somebody over Janet Jackson's new album
and at the same time
feel the heat and talk with somebody about how extremely sad and depressing
but oh so good Giovanni's Room was
I want to be able to speak with somebody whom can quote Malcolm X and Kafka in the same breath
Somebody who could see the logic of Pac and Immortal Technique on the same piece
with the Budos Band or Mulatu on the back track
I want to know people whom know
just exactly who
Suki Lee and Bayard Rustin are
can we talk about Jacob Kinohoor's ***
at least for a moment
then get into some B.B. King or Johnny Cash
have you seen Dune
the one from the eighties
James McAvoy shirtless
as well as John Goodman’s acting
were only good things about the other
if you read it
even better
what about the ***** that sat by the door
Or
killer clowns from outer space
let's be shady and point out all the inaccuracies on the history and discovery and channels
praying for that day
that's not in February
They show Shaka Zulu in full
without commercial interruption
Or maybe a documentary about native American people
with actual native actors
that do not depict them all as either
plains people
Or Inuit
Cause you already know
not everybody is Eskimo
then let's put on our own private production of legally blonde
followed by encore presentations of the classic scene
Of Miss Celie and miss Ofelia going in over Harpo
can I discuss with you
how the Patriot act nullifies everything in constitution
And the bill of rights
even though they never were intended to be permanent any way
It would be nice to not have to explain a Corporatocracy
all my life Ive been into Egyptology
You do know that Imhotep was the actual founder of medicine
by a good 2000 years
not that Hippocrat
the thing is
I'm still learning
when attempt to delve that deeply into people
which I don't even consider that deep
They often misunderstand
They often concluded without thinking
maybe
just maybe
©Christopher F. Brown 2015
May 22, 2015
May 22, 2015 at 11:30 PM UTC
A hymn to paired planethood: Venus hits Pluto
as death, in cold orbit, collides with biology
smashing to fragments: demonic astrology
(more a black hole than a love-star, it’s true though).
Cynical cure for Eve’s womanly grievance
Concupiscent consequence: lust’s bitter fruit –
ah the thought… changing Sin into mere inconvenience.
Margaret sang her seductive refrain
about weeding the garden and progress and light.
Her sisters should view her with scornful disdain
but instead have adopted her murderous rite.
With sang-froid she promoted her racist eugenics
(as if she had never herself been a fetus),
condemning her heirs to postmodern polemics
while nurturing ardent desires to defeat us.
Suppressing the lives that she flushed down the drain
she would liberate Death – and resistance was vain.
As a midwife to modern life (though on the “anti” side)
Old Matron Margie racked up quite a legacy
singing the praises of sanctioned infanticide
calling the shots for the coming sick century.
Planning, quite calmly, to “cleanse” certain races
her zeal was empowered by murderous graces.
She labored to bring us such pearls of subduction:
“dilation and curettage”, “women’s autonomy”
“viable fetus”, “procedure”, a “suction”
Hippocrates retches to hear the taxonomy;
words that turn Life into mere reproduction.
She enters the realms of the ****** and the motherless
roundly condemned by her feminine otherness.
Man’s first protection: the God-given womb
which no infant should have to regard as their tomb.
Dismembered dark cherubs, assembling, greet her
as demons (in scrubs) holding baby-parts meet her.
Long may she burn with the medical cynics
this mother of Moloch, this founder of clinics.
Convenience is king when abortion’s the Queen
and the profits swell big with each nubile teen…
yet the fruit of such carnage remains to be seen.
I send her this song as a funeral wreath
and a card inked in blood. You may read what is there:
“To the Matrix Supreme of our culture of death
from the souls of the infants you slew on the earth.
May your torment increase with the children you bear.”
Sep 10, 2015
Sep 10, 2015 at 9:09 PM UTC
I had a gf that used to get called a feminazi,
but no one ever called me a feminanarchist;
I think what we really were is Feminihilists.
FFP opposed ***********
defined as the sexualized degradation,
********** humiliation, objectification,
subjugation, violation, psychological
annihilation, exploitation, & violence
against women as distinguished from
erotica based on the mutuality
of power and pleasure.
According to FFP's pioneering founder Page Mellish,
*********** provides the training for ******
assault & **** results in the objectification
of women; affects women's ability to get equal rights
& equal pay, & encourages men to associate
*** with violence; Page ultimately claimed
that _all_ feminist issues | [ , ], [ ]
are rooted in ***********
& in a 1986 letter to the editor of The Wall Street Journal,
she asserted that FFP is "not against love & not against ***
Page held that all men or women
who did not fight against ***********
were accountable for the violence
against women, claiming that women
who enjoy *********** or rough ***
had internalized the male [gaze] & |
male definitions of power
Page's positions on ***********
have been debated outside FFP,
including with respect to porn's agency
on crime & feminist & gay definitions of ****
Legislation alone was not a solution,
according to Page; it was also necessary to remove _"the need for ****
vehemently anti-censorship & pro-sex,
Page taught me to show everything from
all sides; my other feminista professors
were pro-monogamy [patriarchy] while
Page was a combat boot wearing girly-girl;
she had these cute little doe-eyed Q's following
her around carrying the placards [ ] for her
spontaneous demonstrations against underwear
Aug 21, 2018
Aug 21, 2018 at 5:54 AM UTC
If you want to make a profit
(and the morality is grey)
Dehumanize the victim
and you'll be well on your way.
In a country that's divided,
and declining by the hour.
Your sins will be forgiven
by the Autocrats in power.
As, once upon a time,
in our then divided land
Slavery was acceptable
because a black was not a man.
Then black people were possessions
and very few were free.
They knew the lash, they knew the rod,
They knew not dignity.
Now fetuses are parasites-
not considered human beings
Abortion is big business
the cash cow of their dreams
Fifty million have been murdered
with no end on the horizon.
****** it appears, is acceptable
as long as it's not you dying.)
Someday you'll be old and gray-
and have an awful cough
Please don't be surprised or shocked
if they opt to write you off.
The weak and the disabled,
those feeble minded or not spry
can blame our liberality
when it comes their turn to die.
Eighty years its been since
Adolf ****** rose to power
Little children sang his praises too-
and darkness had it's hour.
Note:Nazi eugenics were **** Germany's racially based social policies that placed the improvement of the Aryan race through eugenics at the center of Nazis ideology. Those humans were targeted who were identified as "life unworthy of life" (German: Lebensunwertes Leben), including but not limited to the criminal, degenerate, dissident, feeble-minded, homosexual, idle, insane, and the weak, for elimination from the chain of heredity. More than 400,000 people were sterilized against their will, while 70,000 were killed under Action T4, a "euthanasia" program.[1][2]
(They will call it choice until the choice is there's alone)
Funny but many will call me a reactionary racist for my position against abortion but there have been millions of black Americans aborted, just as planned parenthood's founder intended.I would not make all abortions illegal as I believe that I shouldn't legislate morality. I think they should be rare, legal and safe.
Jul 1, 2013
Jul 1, 2013 at 9:02 PM UTC
None but the cobbled Hackney will accept
Their Postcards sign this Doveling Bond, betwixt
So both decide a Limo; And dated Theft
Of many Soul-Chasers which do not Exist
From there both Virgins took a Scandal-Plate,
Wrapped in Hookahs only the Wise could see
Goodbye, First Perfume! Not from what will sate
The Photographed Script of what they should be
From this a Problem looms. In such Stone-Bowl
We become the very Thing we disgust
Hearts still cry out for the Thunder they stole
And baste their Image on the Throne they must.
Realise, just now, the Name of this Theme
From Enlightenment whose Founder they blaspheme.
Mar 12, 2013
Mar 12, 2013 at 6:50 PM UTC
The creator of the universe
Our whole existence
Our tradition and way of life
The beginning and the end
The divination and religion
Of our people
Odu Ifa our literary corpus
The grand priest of Ifa
The mantle of Olodumare
The builder of the Ifa Oracle
Ile-Ife your city of abode
Orunmila,
Orirun ile Yoruba
The master of Aseda and Akoda
The Aalafin of Yoruba land
The Ooni of the Yoruba mantle
Our spiritual system of existence
Orunmila,
The supreme being
The Orisa of all orisas
Esu bows at your feet
Obatala trembles at your voice
Ogun makes an obeisance at your sight
Osun lays down at your coming
Yemonja proclaims your might
The divination of Ifa
The prophecy of the Yoruba heritage
The founder of earthly beings
The Ese Ifa
Orunmila
The principal Odu
Written by Tosan Oluwakemi Thompson
Mar 18, 2020
Mar 18, 2020 at 12:26 PM UTC
Lines of life through gene transmission
When handed down through *****
Tho’ rugged, sound or sickly matched,
Are caste about like coins.
Luck ensures a robust chance
Of longevity and health
With intelligence or dolt hood
As a final gauge to wealth.
Traits of blue eyed, fair haired lovelies
Brown eyed, freckled, long of limb,
Temperaments across the spectrum
Placid fat to fiery slim.
Aptitude to run the long race
Good endurance, depth of heart,
Lady luck decrees their worth
Tho' the Priesthood may depart.
Frontal lobes of clear retention
Heightened rationale of thought,
Reasons through the problematic,
Resolutions made as ought.
Capacity to empathise
In tears of joy and sorrow spent,
Capacity for true belief
When wrong is righted with repent.
Goodness and black evil
Are caste about like chaff,
Depends upon the show of cards
Who laughs the final laugh.
Conscience can be virtuous
But then, so can be greed,
Depends upon the circumstance
And if approached at speed.
And finally indulgence
Plays a massive hand in this,
For love and lust determine
If a union is remiss.
And should that union founder,
Should Lady Luck throw in her hand
...You can blame it on the chromosomes
Which confounds the Makers stand!
Marshalg
@theBach
Mangere Bridge
14 June 2011
Jun 13, 2011
Jun 13, 2011 at 8:42 PM UTC
Rhyme, the rack of finest wits,
That expresseth but by fits
True conceit,
Spoiling senses of their treasure,
Cozening judgment with a measure,
But false weight;
Wresting words from their true calling,
Propping verse for fear of falling
To the ground;
Jointing syllabes, drowning letters,
Fast'ning vowels as with fetters
They were bound!
Soon as lazy thou wert known,
All good poetry hence was flown,
And art banish'd.
For a thousand years together
All Parnassus' green did wither,
And wit vanish'd.
Pegasus did fly away,
At the wells no Muse did stay,
But bewail'd
So to see the fountain dry,
And Apollo's music die,
All light failed!
Starveling rhymes did fill the stage;
Not a poet in an age
Worth crowning;
Not a work deserving bays,
Not a line deserving praise,
Pallas frowning;
Greek was free from rhyme's infection,
Happy Greek by this protection
Was not spoiled.
Whilst the Latin, queen of tongues,
Is not yet free from rhyme's wrongs,
But rests foiled.
Scarce the hill again doth flourish,
Scarce the world a wit doth nourish
To restore
Phœbus to his crown again,
And the Muses to their brain,
As before.
****** languages that want
Words and sweetness, and be scant
Of true measure,
Tyrant rhyme hath so abused,
That they long since have refused
Other cæsure.
He that first invented thee,
May his joints tormented be,
Cramp'd forever.
Still may syllabes jar with time,
Still may reason war with rhyme,
Resting never.
May his sense when it would meet
The cold tumor in his feet,
Grow unsounder;
And his title be long fool,
That in rearing such a school
Was the founder.
3k
Like burnt-out torches by a sick man’s bed
Gaunt cypress-trees stand round the sun-bleached stone;
Here doth the little night-owl make her throne,
And the slight lizard show his jewelled head.
And, where the chaliced poppies flame to red,
In the still chamber of yon pyramid
Surely some Old-World Sphinx lurks darkly hid,
Grim warder of this pleasaunce of the dead.
Ah! sweet indeed to rest within the womb
Of Earth, great mother of eternal sleep,
But sweeter far for thee a restless tomb
In the blue cavern of an echoing deep,
Or where the tall ships founder in the gloom
Against the rocks of some wave-shattered steep.
2.8k
Must we rub elbows, Post-Dated Brother
Because of my Drama to her commit
I know my Roles; Her tongue was the other
For my Radar to pick the Better of it
Perhaps our Wine seeps better with Age
On my Canter I drink less of Question
Why? For her, Heart's Duty for joy her page
Quill my Weak Signature's uncondition
Your Cross-Founder states we all must Forgive
And His Baptist turns those Elders from stone
Meaning, my Tarnished History did live
Of which I murdered to leave me alone.
Easy to say, as long as I draw breath
And that is my Purpose to Act in Health.
Mar 15, 2013
Mar 15, 2013 at 5:10 AM UTC
Tall men think of robust ladies
Shorter ladies dream of length,
Toothless people fantasize
Of mandibles of white, bright strength.
Porcine women lust for thinness
Breast less girlies long for *****
Dissatisfaction fills the air
It's greener grass or down the tubes.
Black man hopes for pale complexion
White girls bake to raise a tan,
Brown eyed lassie's envy blue-ness,
***** lesbian's, a man.
The wealthy want the easy life
Beggars yearn for cash,
Dissatisfaction's in the air
And mirrors are so trash.
Across the human spectrum far
Mankind wants for more,
The grass is always greener
Looking through another door.
It's bigger, better, brighter, best
The quest is always there
Relentlessly pursued with glee,
Bright eyes and bushy hair.
Results are mixed and varied here
Some reach the holy grail
To watch it slip beyond their grasp
Then founder, fall and fail.
Some teeter on a platform,
Some grasp the prize and run,
Some hit their stride at bounding pace
To see the contest won.
But by and large there's misery
Few climb the road to joy,
Frustration be my brother
Dissatisfaction be my ploy.
Limitation is our lot in life.
Our secret to success
Is to love the mirror warts and all
All other **** ...repress !!
MERRY CHRISTMAS
Marshalg
@theBach
Mangere Bridge
23 December 2009
www.worthyofpublishing.com
Dec 22, 2009
Dec 22, 2009 at 6:15 PM UTC
Corina Junghiatu is a bilingual poet/writer hailing from Romania. She holds a Master Degree in Philology and Phychopedagogy and likewise she graduated from The Faculty of Letters and Philosophy in Bucharest. She speaks five foreign languages.
Corina has written and publishing two books of poetry: „Exile in the light” and „The ritual of a Sunrise”. She is Administrator and Publication Coordinator of Motivational Strips, editor of "Bharath Vision" website, and Chief Advisor of World Nations Writers' Union Kazakhstan. Corina has won many awards from international institutions of repute, for poetry.
Recently, Corina Junghiatu, together with 350 poets and writers from 80 countries, received a certificate of appreciation for her entire literary activity, on the occasion of the 74th anniversary of the Independence Day of the Republic of India. This certificate was was handed by the famous writer Shiju H. Pallithazheth the Founder of Motivational Strips, World's Most Active Writers Forum and Padma Shree Dr. Vishnu Pandya, President of Gujarat Sahitya Akademy, a government institution of the state of Gujarat (India).
Aug 31, 2020
Aug 31, 2020 at 10:45 AM UTC
Like a stroke of genius,
of just plain blind luck
rising from the jungle floor,
the majestic rubble of the Maya calls,
at once the founder and judge of all Time.
First as the serpent whose plumes turn to wings,
then as the eagle boldly eyeing its prey,
and en fin! as the jaguar, sinewy and sleek,
El Castillo looms
against the hardened, sun-baked sky --
the shifting citadel of Kukulcan,
its shadow splayed across my days.
All of them numbered,
all of them too short,
*all of them fading
in the cold*, hard light of distant failure...
Perenially
built and rebuilt,
like the Church,
El Castillo stands
to meet the need of holy obligation,
to meet my need for initiation,
bounded only by the firmament and the underworld,
final triumph of the dead.
And so I stand,
alone upon the sacred causeway --
enervated, unenlightened,
the bitter taste of dust in my mouth.
Until I, too, will be turned
to stone --
the languid chac mool,
sated in sweet repose.
I will drift toward the sunken cenote,
drink deeply from its oasis of evening cool,
where the memory of man and grain and god is sung:
An anthem of order, power and vision,
the great Mayan hymn of meaning.
I will hear, at last, from the porous depths of Yucatan,
what it is to be called human.
Sep 5, 2018
Sep 5, 2018 at 5:05 PM UTC
my imagination is what you have captured
my literature finally found its match
my sweet insomnia
only you on my mind
my hopeful dreams only you in sight
with every kiss we grow closer
every new memory founder
the very thought of you brings a smile so genuine and a skip to my heart
i enjoy your presence for it is unmatched
your hugs and true kisses
it is truly that
that that is amazing and great
to many words to describe how i feel is that
your being is amazing
and that is that
Jul 29, 2010
Jul 29, 2010 at 5:33 PM UTC
Science is governed by theorems and laws, but I think its more important to learn, live, and love from nature’s flaws. Ideal reactions exist on paper created by pencils, but really its nothing more than a flawed man’s stencil. Something unable to exist in freeform untempered by the creative storm and unblemished by the perfect mistakes that prove its not fake. Thats not of what I partake.
You make my world spin and keep my gravity down. It’s just the physics of our situation, is this our mind or the worlds creation? Einstein was the founder of relativity but I’m sure of our brevity. A whirlwind thats almost out of control, the dance of days that composes our souls. Linked rhythmically together no longer singularly apart joined at the heart never to depart and so we start. I’m not sure how this equation functions but its a positive conjunction. I want to linearly progress without regress never to suppress or obsess but to travel and caress but I digress with my interest to express.
I haven’t done the math but I’m almost positive one heart plus one heart equals one heart. Thats real arithmetic, a force surely kinetic. Attracted and reacted to form a singular product of an environment construct. You make my world spin and keep my gravity down. It’s just the physics of our situation.
Feb 16, 2011
Feb 16, 2011 at 10:19 PM UTC
We meet by the lockers
at break
I'm still amazed
that this school
has Cheerleaders
that basketball
not rounders & netball
is the sport played
that we study
the Cold War
' Of Mice & Men'
& the War in Vietnam
that we have 'Hitzenfrei' days
that our German teacher
always forgives our mistakes
that boys & girls
hang out together
that we put on musicals
I've never heard of
That we celebrate the fall of the Wall
that we take school trips
to Concentration Camps
that there's no uniform
that the teachers
rarely explain anything
that the word ' rubber'
doesn't mean ' eraser'
here but something else
that there are stereotypes
like 'nerd' & ' prom queen'
that we welcome grafitti
that we believe in Love
above any kind of Study
that we have the freedom
to pick & choose our failiures
without being sent
to the Principal's office
that we read Kerouac
Carl Sandburg & Ginsberg
that nearly everyone
has lived in at least
two or three
different countries
that we rarely fight
that my crush
plays trumpet
in a ska band
that we go
to the nearby Lakes
on weekends
& the English language cinema
on Tuesdays
that we celebrate Halloween
bit by bit I nearly forget
my All Girls school days
in soggy Britain
where I had no friends
where we sang hymns
every single morning
where we didn't practice
the Love we preached
where our future
was crumbling old Oxbridge
where we had a coat of arms
where we had houses
named after the merchant ships
of our Founder from the 1600ds
where we didn't dream
of becoming Presidents
or Astronauts but Academics
forever lost in musty books
the flower of our youth, wasted
*Hitzenfrei days were days in summer when we were let off school because it was too hot.
Wall - Berlin Wall
Jul 3, 2015
Jul 3, 2015 at 1:03 PM UTC
Wake-up with the pill bottle next to me
Other side is the girl that had *** with me
I know she doesn't love me
I just flaunt some of the money
Then they wanna come see
Get out of bed when they start to kick in
So amazed how I got all these prescriptions
Pill caddy because today I'm on a mission
Driver is out front
Time to put on the front
Get to the office, bursts of motivation
See my partner do it-with no medication
But things are fine, no reason to whine
I got it all
But when I define all, it's where I fall
Money, drugs, mansion
And no hugs from a honey or some laughing
Who will I share it with?
My computer I just stare at it
Give my tasks to my secretary
Because, that's why I pay you, Sheree
I'm just the founder
With a bold face to motivate
No more brown nosing
See, now they brown nose me
But as the clock hits four PM
Look at all our profits, yeah I see them
Time for my downers so I can mellow out
All the guilt, time to throw it out
Let's go out, Sheree
She says yes, not to me...but to the money
Yeah I admit it kinda hurts...
But its all in, A Day's Work
Aug 1, 2014
Aug 1, 2014 at 7:21 AM UTC
In melancholy moonless Acheron,
Farm for the goodly earth and joyous day
Where no spring ever buds, nor ripening sun
Weighs down the apple trees, nor flowery May
Chequers with chestnut blooms the grassy floor,
Where thrushes never sing, and piping linnets mate no more,
There by a dim and dark Lethaean well
Young Charmides was lying; wearily
He plucked the blossoms from the asphodel,
And with its little rifled treasury
Strewed the dull waters of the dusky stream,
And watched the white stars founder, and the land was like a dream,
When as he gazed into the watery glass
And through his brown hair’s curly tangles scanned
His own wan face, a shadow seemed to pass
Across the mirror, and a little hand
Stole into his, and warm lips timidly
Brushed his pale cheeks, and breathed their secret forth into a
sigh.
Then turned he round his weary eyes and saw,
And ever nigher still their faces came,
And nigher ever did their young mouths draw
Until they seemed one perfect rose of flame,
And longing arms around her neck he cast,
And felt her throbbing ***** and his breath came hot and fast,
And all his hoarded sweets were hers to kiss,
And all her maidenhood was his to slay,
And limb to limb in long and rapturous bliss
Their passion waxed and waned,—O why essay
To pipe again of love, too venturous reed!
Enough, enough that Eros laughed upon that flowerless mead.
Too venturous poesy, O why essay
To pipe again of passion! fold thy wings
O’er daring Icarus and bid thy lay
Sleep hidden in the lyre’s silent strings
Till thou hast found the old Castalian rill,
Or from the Lesbian waters plucked drowned Sappho’s golden quid!
Enough, enough that he whose life had been
A fiery pulse of sin, a splendid shame,
Could in the loveless land of Hades glean
One scorching harvest from those fields of flame
Where passion walks with naked unshod feet
And is not wounded,—ah! enough that once their lips could meet
In that wild throb when all existences
Seemed narrowed to one single ecstasy
Which dies through its own sweetness and the stress
Of too much pleasure, ere Persephone
Had bade them serve her by the ebon throne
Of the pale God who in the fields of Enna loosed her zone.
2k
A self-arranged route.
Ambitions led me forward.
Every step was to gain my adolescent aspirations.
I was confident.
When life was array,
The goals became my crutch,
My vitality,
The only reason to move, progress.
Idealistic and naive.
Blind and hopeful.
I meandered swiftly,
I gallivanted unsuspecting.
If I was to truly exist, I had to control my haste.
Oblivious to true adversity,
I needed to digest the lesson,
I needed to understand the complications.
Unexpectedly, the caveat stared at me.
I fought and clashed,
To only raise the white flag of surrender.
The battle was lost.
Who I was eluded.
I struggled through a sea of self-impediments.
I allowed myself to drown in the agony.
I did not have the armor to save me.
Through the fog, I heard songs that healed.
I held on to the words as they began to stitch me together.
I started to crawl,
I knew I would never be the same again.
I knew I had to start a crusade,
An onslaught against myself,
An onslaught against the organization.
I knew I would never be the same again.
As I raised armaments,
With the reinforcement in my ears,
I began to evolve.
The person I was became more substantial.
I had further tribulations ahead,
But I was more prepared, more capable.
I was humbled, yet proud.
The person I was became more unobstructed.
Through the misfortune,
My identity became solidified,
I reattained my dreams,
And I made efforts to get a steady hold.
I told myself I will not founder.
I told myself I could not relinquish.
For this was the war that would define me,
And I knew I must persevere.
Mar 6, 2013
Mar 6, 2013 at 3:52 PM UTC
I ride on her coat tails,he sails at odd angles and angels come calling,
stalling for time,pretending, I mime I can't talk and walk to the bowsprit to spit in the ocean.
In that slow motion of epiphany I see what will and can never be and it all becomes clear to me,I spit again in the sea,cross my fingers for luck,tell the angels to f.....
No,
I don't swear out loud,I want the good Lord's protection,in signs,more mimes,they get what I'm meaning.
The moonbeams gleam off deck boards as the pendulum swings,things are taking shape and the ship sings through the waters,but later in the doldrums where the dolphins knit sweaters and the daughters of sirens play canasta with mermaids while braiding dreams with the seaweed,
I need to take a fix on the noon day sun, a hand on my gun lest the latitude betray me,I lay in a course for the Island of Tahiti where the girls sway and greet me,the old dog from the sea.
It's easy to be a madman on the sea when the salt is your spice and I've never thought twice about the angels sent packing,just went on stacking up bookmarks to feed the circling sharks,stark and unfriendly would the sea ever lend me a bed to lay down in?would this ship that I sail in ever founder,I flounder and flail but I sail into the moonlight,on a bright night you'll see me until the sunsets will free me to the tidal eternity of the sea deep within me.
Dec 3, 2013
Dec 3, 2013 at 1:09 AM UTC
ι.
Zoι мoυ, тнιѕ ιѕ тнe тrυтн,
Inѕιde oғ тнιne aмвιence;
I'м rapтυred вy тнιne
Fιlιpιna carтoυcнe.
ιι. Thélis na horépsis mazí mu?
vasílissa; O'er тнe gaze
Oғ Sapang delaga ғallѕ.
Herald'ѕ oғ Zιon,
Wιngѕpan'ѕ oғ
Alвaтroѕѕ.
ιιι.
Dιѕcιpleѕ oғ тнe lιvιng God
Hallowed вlaѕнonιc'ѕ;
An anassa тнoυ arт eтernally,
Jane oғ ѕĸy'ѕ ѕυperѕonιc.
ιv.
Arιa'ѕ ѕprιng, вeтwιхт oυrn ѕeaм'ѕ, вoυndarιeѕ none, O' cнιldren-we'll вecoмe. Wнιlѕт ιn тнe ғυn, and laυgн and play, agapι мoυ, I needeтн тнιne мoon, тнaт вeaтѕ ιnѕιde тнιne cнeѕт, wнereιn вaвιeѕ reѕт, and нealιng Begιn'ѕ; Wнereιn I'м waѕнed wнιтe aѕ ѕnow, ғroм вygone old, ιnтo тнιne ѕoυl. I'м вorn agaιn.
©Brandon Nagley
©Lonesome poets poetry founder..
©Earl jane Nagley dedication ( Filipino rose)
Feb 27, 2016
Feb 27, 2016 at 10:24 PM UTC
Let Me Be Your Everything
I sat down to think about all you ever told me
I start to write all my emotions down
for all to read about you and me
I want to show all how
things really are that was between us
I want to have romantic dances
with lots of kisses you would say
you would hold me close
where you could whisper in my ears
all the things you hold dear
how much you need me
the Love you want to show me
the passion you have for me
I truly know a lot from you
you have talked to me
about so much things
you even told me
Love is not that easy
like others think it should be
You get up out of bed
to start your day
with me on your mind
that was all you could think about
is the love that is in your heart for me
you would tell me
You're my love you see
Let me be your everything
this old life brings
let me spark up a fire deep within you
like you had never known
I want to be the one
to give you a kiss each and every day
just to let you know the hours
you're upon my mind
Let me be all you could ever need
Your words my love
will always be a part of me
Your love will always be in all my memories
So I will write out what I feel
even when we are no longer
my heart has grown founder
this love will always be
written down in history
of you and me .
Poetic Judy Emery © 2010
The Queen Of Darken Dreams Poetic Lilly Emery
Nov 23, 2016
Nov 23, 2016 at 5:42 PM UTC