"ghandi" poems
Led down from the tower
Head high and hands bound
Blindfold declined against the wall
Black square pinned to his heart
Eyes afire and shining proud
He sang...
He sang of Caruso, Townes Van Zandt
Pavarotti, Bocelli, Mercury,
Carreras, he sang of Antoine,
Of Sinatra, Lennon, Morrison, Redding
He sang and songbirds paused in flight
He sang like them all
He sang a song of himself
Of leaves of grass, of second comings
Of Byron, and Bharti, and Cummings
He sang of Neruda, and Plath, Tagore
Dickinson, Kamala Das and Naidu
Oh, he sang of them all
He sang of art and beauty
Of Mona Lisa and starry nights
Girls in green dresses and pearls
He sang of Van Gogh, of Picasso
Of Rembrandt, da Vinci
He sang of Michelangelo
He sang of sadness, pain
He sang of My Lai, Sand Creek
Of Guernica and Krystallnacht
He cried and sang of Wounded Knee
Of Katyn Forest, Sabra and Shatila
Oh, he wept as he sang
He sang of history and wonders
He sang of Olduvai and pyramids
Machu Picchu, Tikal, and Angkor Wat
He sang of a great wall, the Taj Mahal
Stonehenge, Easter Isle, Mesa Verde
His song took us to them all
He sang of courage
A song of Bunker Hill, Gettysburg
Of the Alamo, Normandy, Stalingrad
Of Lincoln, Guevara and Dr. King
He sang of Bolivar, Bhutto, Ghandi
He shamed us with their song
He sang his song...
As women sighed and peasants cried
He sang until the rifles fired, he died
Songbirds fell from the sky
Soldiers broke their guns on stones
And marched into the deep blue sea.
r ~ 4/12/14
Apr 12, 2014
Apr 12, 2014 at 7:05 PM UTC
Civil disobedience is not a moral obligation. Moral obligation is an act of belief and self values. So if you feel the need to break a little law to fight for what you believe in , then yes, go for it, but obeying the laws may also be part of your morals. After all the police brutality that we have heard about on the news, some people decided to stand up and protest. Even I wanted to protest downtown because I found it absolutely ridiculous that people were being killed without extreme cause by police and they only got a slap on the wrist. There are always two sides to a story. So am I obligated to rally because of inequality displayed on the media? No, not really but due to my values I would love to. "But through the other method of combating injustice, we alone suffer the consequences of our mistakes" which was said by Ghandi. It can be applied to the protests, to me it means we can scream our opinions and we can make an impact, but some will be damaged and some will be arrested in the process. Sadly, the thing we were fighting for in the first place will be served and protected. So what is justice? What is civil obedience when our enforcement can't even comply? I guess we aren't obligated to anything.
Jan 9, 2015
Jan 9, 2015 at 3:44 PM UTC
Wouldn't it be weird if
JFK was reincarnated
as Monica Lewinski?
Buddha probably
ate better butter
than Ghandi.
If we keep fighting
the divine fellows
we pray to
will be too afraid to return.
This isn't ******* Highlander.
Christ, what a hilariously insane movie.
They probably show that
to people who drink caviar & say things
like "pip pip!"
Either way,
we're all related.
Otherwise than that,
let's all be
LOVE.
Except for people
who commit genocide.
May they be reincarnated
as Hitler's final excretion
as he killed himself;
including ******
Jun 18, 2012
Jun 18, 2012 at 8:58 PM UTC
Rules, policies and conflicts imprison you.
Protest and righteousness freed you.
In America, we called it segregation.
Twisted words of countries like South Africa called it Apartheid.
Separation of the races accepted as legal at a certain time.
What about injustice that makes ANY race feels correct?
But like that old saying goes, things changes with time.
Which Nelson Mandela you eventually saw within your life time.
It's always those that faced the harshness of trouble that's the most forgiving.
And many of times, it's the innocent prisoner.
You led.
While holding onto no grudge.
You stood strong against those that refused to change.
In America that's still a familiar ring.
Ghandi, King and others fought with words.
Similar to the qualities and traits of our Lord Jesus.
It's always the peacekeepers that showcase the hate.
While the supporters of wars stay quiet silently supporting the crime.
So, so long Nelson.
God's waiting for your soul.
You serve your purpose.
You serve your goal.
Nelson Mandela, son of the motherland.
You will always be remember, as a good man.
Dec 5, 2013
Dec 5, 2013 at 7:55 PM UTC
The assassins hit in 63
And Camelot was gone,
Inspiration vanished
And the darkness sang it’s song.
*Vietnam escalated
Brezhnev’s Russia loomed,
Africa was eviscerated
And Red China entombed.
*Floating on a long white cloud
The Kiwis were replete
With abundant British markets
For their butter, wool and meat.
*The Europeans went ****
And Britain lost it’s way
When the Beatles and the Rolling Stones
Monopolized their day.
*Man landed on the moon
And raised the Yankee flag
And they shot Mahatma Ghandi
For making good things out of bad.
*The Berlin Wall dividing,
The Cold War tense and spare,
ICBM’s threaten silently
In their silos of despair.
*Bob Menzies ruled Australia
As an amassing of his loot
And his White Australia Policy
Condemned him as a brute.
*Found naked on her tousled bed,
Blonde hair across her face,
Marylin Monroe is dead
The world’s a darker place.
*In the Age of Aquarius
Our children lost their youth,
LSD and smoking ***
And Afro’s were the proof.
*Lots of leg in miniskirts,
High bouffant’s in the hair,
Screaming teeny boppers
Rock with Elvis on “the Air”.
*Giant, Rawhide, Ponderosa,
Martin Luther King,
Kaftans and a cheese fondue,
Abortion is a sin!
It’s a sixties kaleidoscope,
A panoramic skim
Of an era of wonderment
Which you and I lived in.
Marshalg
@the Gate
Mangere Bridge
20th January 2009
Oct 23, 2009
Oct 23, 2009 at 2:25 PM UTC
You hide in plain sight as does day when engulfed by night
For darkness is simply…. The absence of light
You claim to have special enlightenment
And that your knowledge is for the better good of the people
Pledge your allegiance and your success will be imminent
Break your pledge and your death will be discrete
So why would you become part of something so “elite”?
With only one thing in mind; to see the human race in defeat.
An interminable amount of subliminal messages
Hinting at events that are destructive, demoralizing, and deceptive.
9/11… was it really an act of terrorism?
Or was it just an evil plot… something you guys expected?
Al-quaeda and the Taliban… roaming around in the lands of Iran
But on the land I walk some say it’s a misperception
Just a façade in our brain so the government secrets are protected.
Michael Jackson… and the Kennedy assassination
Were they both untimely events in American history?
Ghandi, The King, Malcolm X, Princess Diana, Shakur,
Paul, Marley, the Kennedys’, Lennon, Fredinand, Lincoln!!
All of whom were either at your feet or tried to make your secret secrete
These deaths… from assassination to suicide… were all… “unfortunate” to the human eye?
Or were they “fortunate” for the Eye of the Beholder?
But why go to such great extent to have these powerful and influential people wiped from the human race?
To keep a secret that has been soooo well kept for hundreds of years?
A secret society that is not so discrete… anymore
Hidden in plain sight and away from the human eye…..
Trying to keep a disguise that will lead to our eventual demise
You aren’t doing the world any favors
By keeping an explicitly intricate order in store
You’re favoring your own world under one order
By intricately deceiving the minds of innocent citizens
So, you hide in plain sight, the light of the earth
A light you hope one day becomes permanently dark
Cause once again, darkness is only the absence of light.
With no light, we will be forced at the feet of your might
Despite a fight, with no light and your might, we’re all just mites stuck on your flight of new world order.
Well let me just end on this… **** THE ILLUMINATI!
Oct 24, 2012
Oct 24, 2012 at 12:52 PM UTC
I’ve been going to this boxing gym and training every week.
And everyone there is fighting something
You can see in their
Eyes
They’re punching their dad
Or they’re punching
Whoever their wife is sleeping with
Or they're punching
Their kids who ignore them
Or they’re punching
Themselves.
Their boss
Their job
Their alcohol problem
Their poverty
And every week we get to fight our problems together
And we’re exploding inside.
What?
You can’t fight your problems?
It’s not only that I can.
I will.
And do.
Because crying alone isn’t good enough
Because all that fire you build up inside you has to go somewhere
Or it’ll burn you alive.
So you throw it into the heavy bag
Or into the guy you’re sparring
Or into the ground you run on.
We’re all fighting something
So what about you?
What are you fighting that’s so god **** important?
No, don’t tell me.
Tell that heavy bag.
He listens.
He listens when your wife doesn’t give a ****
He listens when it doesn’t even matter
Tell these padded mitts.
That one-two punch says more than a twenty-four volume encyclopedia
And speaks more concisely than Churchill or Hemmingway or Ghandi ever did.
Don’t tell me how it feels.
Don’t even try.
Let that punching bag know.
Because you know he’s listening.
And he doesn’t have anything else more important to do.
Oct 24, 2013
Oct 24, 2013 at 1:31 AM UTC
Verse:
Eleanor Roosevelt, Rosa Parks, Ghandi, Lucille Ball
Quiet and soft-spoken
Take the spotlight
Every bone in their body tells them not to
They took it not because they wanted to
Not because they enjoyed directing others
Not out of the pleasure of being looked at
Because they had no choice
Because they were driven to do what they thought was right
Chorus:
Roosevelt and Ghandi
Rosa Parks and lovely Lucy
Inner peace is what we all need
You're not a failure if you can believe
Verse:
Steve Martin, Ella Fitzgerald, Nicole Kidman, Lucille Ball
Shy actress was an oxymoron
In the so-called Golden Age
Let's make today the real Golden Age
And stop being so mean to each other
Take a walk in another person's shoes
Play the role of the person terrified to speak
Turn a party around so you can see it the way we see it
As a battleground
As a place of judgement and fear
Verse:
Einstein, Lincoln, Edison, me, you!
Laughed at in their classes and by the masses
When they had the ideas to change the world
If you would ever let them read their books
How many people have given up their dreams?
Just because they were shy?
There has to be a better way to deal with this
And someday I know you will get there
Touch the sky, touch our hearts
And find the love you always wanted
Bridge:
Solitude
Solitude
Inner peace is what we all need
The ability to be you
The ability to be the original
Not the knock off
Mar 29, 2012
Mar 29, 2012 at 5:10 PM UTC
you wrote the book on being an *******
i read it twice.
and i find myself alluding to it
all the time.
you told me the definition of high art was broke.
if i wanted to succeed,
i needed to trash my collection of huxley
and memorize
every action sequence
in every jerry bruckheimer film.
you based the last six years of your life
on a ghandi misquote,
you ripped from wikipedia.
you told me love was just mankind kidding himself.
only trust in what you can feel,
"like *******
i wrote an article about you,
i asked if you believed in god.
your reply,
"god is a concept
by which we measure our pain."
i thought that was clever.
it took me 3 months to remember
that's off lennon's Plastic Ono Band.
Jul 19, 2010
Jul 19, 2010 at 10:38 AM UTC
So.
You wanna be a grown up.
You wanna learn how the world works,
And what to do to make it like you.
Well kid, first things first
(And you're hearing it from a fellow kid)
(So don't take my word as gospel)
But the world won't bend to you.
It won't accommodate you.
It won't care.
It's unyielding,
And, debatably,
Unforgiving.
(Depressing, right?)
But, kid,
None of that'll matter.
You have to take a leap of faith.
Go forth and go to art school,
Go and join the military.
Cut all your hair off,
And wear what you **** well please.
Kiss who you want and when you want,
And flip off the "very fine people" at Charlottesville.
Verbally decimate your cheating ex,
And stand up for the bullied kid.
Rise up, shout,
Make sure your bruises and your battle scars are heard across the globe.
You'll make a difference.
After all, you don't have to be a Ghandi or a King to change the world.
You just gotta be you.
Jan 27, 2018
Jan 27, 2018 at 11:05 PM UTC
I was down to my knees
Hands up and a gun to my head
They kept pulling the trigger
Bang Bang I was supposed to be death
Hell I even started to think
To pull the trigger myself so it could end
But I survived the struggle
And I wasn't about to bend
Anymore
Than I already did
I was down to my knees
Just when I thought hell ****
NO
I got to get back on my feet
I' ve got to fight back and stand tall
I am that unwritten book nobody will read
Unless I start to get back on my writing
chair
You know life ain' t always going to be
A freaking **** fantasyfair
So yes I was down to my knees
But I started to fight back
I crawled out of the valley directly up on the hill
On top of it I screamed ,,Hell I'm back''
I screamed ,,Hello world this is me''
Yes it's not what you see
Ok I am size ''A little more''
Please dear world can I get an encore
I'm still happy I still live with joy
Alltough I wasn't that kind of boy
Now I am I am that kind of man
And there is really nothing you can
Nothing you can do anymore
To make my heart feel numb
And my head feel sour
I decided to live my life the way I want it to live
And I decided that I want to give
That I want to give and pass this feeling on
To my unborn daughter and unborn son
I am going to give this feeling to everybody who deserves it
Everybody who's feeling like ****
If you are too fat or you are too skinny
If you are too ugly or you are too pretty
If you are too gay or you are too straight
For equality I will start a public debate
I'll give equal rights to the white and black sheep
A promise I will intend to keep
Now dry all your invisible tears
And we'll fight all our darkest fears
Together we will start the fight
And we will fight side by side
Today we will stop the invisible tears we cry
So our smiles won't have to keep up the lie
We will rise like a phoenix
Start a history remix
People will remember our generation
As an solution instead of a mathematic eqaution
People will know our names like they know King, Ghandi and Mandela
This will be the start of a whole new era
Now everybody who's down to their knees
Stand up, stand tall and fight with me please
Spread our words around the globe
Spread our words of peace and hope
Together we will be strong
And nobody can do us wrong
Everybody will follow their dreams
So again by all means
Get out of the valley up to the hill
At least I know I will
I'm finally standing, screaming on my Georgian red hill
Feb 2, 2015
Feb 2, 2015 at 3:31 PM UTC
Every good deed
we've ever performed
throughout the millennia of your lives--
--Even if we made Buddha
& Ghandi appear to be chumps--
*Only leads
to Nirvana;
which is knowing the owner
of a restaurant who takes
50% off the meal.*
Feb 1, 2012
Feb 1, 2012 at 7:44 PM UTC
:Ignite
.ılılıll ɢʀᴏᴡ ᴡɪᴛʜɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ғʟᴏᴡ llılılı
SToP:
Lemme seizure
perception
knowledge is a question
asked in reflection
yup, such a simple inception
but we all get caught up while we messin
learning earth's sacred lessons
What now though?
Identity//beheaded
Grey ghost, unleaded
got odds like Yudhistira so
we betted our :/:
ego:: we had to shed it
problem:: we known to vet it
poison:: we GOTTA **** it
old skin:: WE SHED THAT TOO
Known to fold my body like oragami
quiet uprising you call call me ghandi
preach non-violence
practice samadhi
Principly Primal
powerful and bridal
*** in more dimensions
the many armed eater of time holding on like I'm ******* kali
wannabe-Ascetic, dreaded, wandering in the right line,
posture asuna-siva, like I'm ******* Kali, See time as convex
atman = brahman
means I'm God Complex
Every day set fire to myself like Sati
Go ash to mouth
and make myself rise
like a phoneix
Apr 25, 2016
Apr 25, 2016 at 12:18 PM UTC
Sartre could have taken Ghandi
In a burger eating contest,
or a bar fight;
they are dead.
No matter who you are,
you will die.
Torch your temples,
set fire to the preachers,
and **** on ash.
Embrace it.
Welcome this conflagrative absolve.
Nov 1, 2012
Nov 1, 2012 at 4:40 AM UTC
Jesus was a liar and Ghandi was a fuccboi.
Prophets hate themselves the most.
Try to be pure light and you will never be.
You are not a single drop of ***** in an ocean of ****
You are an ocean of **** in a single drop. Don't tell me that's not ******* beautiful.
You came from sacks of fat floating around in primordial goop.
Don't tell me that's not ******* beautiful.
You are 99% vacuous void but that 1% still makes you visible to me.
Tell me that's ******* disgusting.
I used to think I was all love and light and that was it.
Everything else was shame.
Everything else was to blame.
Everything else was also me.
I am mostly nothing and mostly darkness.
Don't tell me that's not ******* beautiful.
That despite being a walking maelstrom of empty space and spasmodic dance,
I am a ******* universe expanding in all directions simultaneously.
The only reason you can see the stars in the sky is because of all the emptiness.
The only reason you can look into my eyes is because of the little bit of life that shines through my pupils.
The only reason you can hold me in your arms is because the trillions and trillions of quanta that hold me together hate themselves and love each other because they all know that they hate themselves.
It's because they're entangled in a hot mess of spaghetti, sauce, and melted cheese.
Like a functioning dysfunctional family, we are trying our best and we all hate ourselves but we are trying love each other anyway.
Because we feel it.
Vacuous void. Chaotic dance.
Mostly nothing and a little bit of everything.
Nov 6, 2015
Nov 6, 2015 at 12:02 AM UTC
Now I just wanna know one thing
When do we draw the line between insanity
and creativity
because if sitting in your room for hours talking to your self is insane
then take me away
but I bet Fredick Duglas did the same thing
when he was in jail and the only person he talked to was the ceiling
and if banging your head against the wall means your crazy
then lock me up baby
because when I cant get the end to a poem right
it will keep me banging my head all night
and if thinking outside the box
and questioning exsistence
means your insane
I think your crazy because if that is insanity
we all are insane
people have come up with things
that make others look at your crazy
and you cant just tell me that me thinking
using oil is crazy
I'm losing my mind to insanity
the insane people of the world
are the people who change it
Harriet Tubman, Rosa Parks
Columbus, Ghandi
Martin Luther King, Jesus
Einstine, Mr.Peabody
and everybody
who has an idea is insane
they are insanely great
because insanity is what changes things
Insanity makes the world a better place for you and me
so why don't
we instead of pushing the insane person aside
listen to what they have to say
You might learn something
and you may even realize being insane is a good thing
Mar 21, 2014
Mar 21, 2014 at 10:30 PM UTC
I turned to my *****
as I lit my cigarette.
Hella stressed
I said
"Ain't life a *****
We trapped
between the rich and the poor
trying to make it to one
and stay away from the other.
Our people step on each other
to get above one another.
Instead of extending a hand
to help a brother.
Do you know
what they did?
I know
what they did?!
They brainwashed us
to **** each other.
If we aren't killing each other
they plotting
to lock us up with each other
to do a long bid.
The cops, the judges
and the politicians are kin.
They don't want to
give us a chance to win.
They got us separated by
religion, race, and ****** orientation.
To worsen the complication
they got the police waiting
to **** a black male with no contemplation.
Because they say
we are likely
to start a confrontation.
There's no peace.
When I look around
all I see is hatred.
Jesus, Ghandi, and MLK
told us to turn the other cheek.
Will we ever face it?
Forces reaching our soul
through the airwaves and spaces.
All I see is satan.
All I see is masons.
All I see is the land of the broken,
,lost and forsaken.
We ball up our fist.
Trying to make it through the day
without getting too ******
Wishin that we could just quit.
**** man,
Ain't life a *****
No disrespect to women.
This is how I'm feelin.
If she call herself one
then she shouldn't be offended.
If she do then
she see how we ain't winning.
That's why every night
she's up in the strip club sinning.
To catch a ***** slippin
To catch a ***** trippin
To catch a ***** trickin
off his last.
She will give him some ***
Because she need that cash.
**** a paycheck.
She knows this money comes fast.
If he's trippin hard enough
She will run his pockets rough.
Until his soul is gone
And the repo man
is taking his truck.
With every ****** interaction
She loses a piece of herself
in the temporary satisfaction.
Like her soul is being extracted
and if she meets her soulmate
he wouldn't be as attracted
to her soul
because it's all in fragments
Her mind has grown stagnant.
******* it.
Ain't life a *****
Jul 12, 2015
Jul 12, 2015 at 3:54 PM UTC
XD
If you offer Moses porkchops
And Ghandi t-bone steaks
An Amish woman lightbulbs
You have what it takes!
If fish ain't on the menu
For a Catholic's Friday meal
And you fast on a Fat Wednesday
You're the real deal!
If at a Mosque you're dancing
While they're bowing to the east
If you use a salad fork
To eat the main course feast
At Episcopal church functions
Then don't give a dime
At Joel Osteen's mega-church
Man, you're right on time!
Non-religious offenders
Really should unite!
Just do what comes naturally!
Don't give up the fight!
Far from being reverent
Take it one step more!
Diss ol' jolly Santa
While looting big box stores!
But watch the gays and lesbians!
Jokes we won't allow!
Or political gurus and women
*For those are sacred cows!*
SoulSurvivor
(C) 10/9/2013
Jul 21, 2015
Jul 21, 2015 at 2:52 AM UTC
I take my knowledge from architects, medieval painters and galore.
I walk along the stretch of times, Read the Canterbury Tales from folks of yore.
I've written literature in my own dialect, through the beautiful English language.
I find awe in the act of creation, new etymologies where old writers anguished.
My words: symphonies of the beloved and dead Beethoven; like the arias of Wagner.
I am the high priest, the new catholicicist propogandising as your Cardinal.
I am the spiritual technology, provided to the ailment of what we call society.
I am the new Ghandi, the Dalai Lama deservedly inspiring your piety.
I am the Luciferous angel of life, breathing heaven through the cesspool of Earth.
I am the post-modern Romeo and Juliet, Warhol's 15 minutes of fame and worth.
I am the Alexander Mcqueen, the metaphilosopher of fabric illusions.
I am the lyricist of society, speaking through the castrated eunychs.
I am Stephanie Myer, inspiration of vampiric genius to adolescent impressionables.
I am Jane Austen, author of new age thrillers such as The Secret and Lesbian Misérables
I am the eclipsing of twilight, the post-mortem autopsy of a rotting cadaver.
I am Heath Ledger and Michael Jackson, legends inspiring a race of sleeping pill grabbers.
I am the Blockbuster, the Titanic Avatar, $4.9 Billion to children in poverty.
I am Gangnam Style, 2.5 Billion viewers of the Palestinian Bombings.
I am modern philosophe, the birth giver of Socrates, Plato, Nietzsche, Derrida.
I am Steve Jobs, terrible father, tyrant and billionaire technological reliever.
I am God, the predeccesor and successor of all eternal life.
I am Satan, damnation and strife.
I am Tupac, rapper of gangster warfare. Inspirational to first world degenerates.
I am Oprah, most powerful black woman with white hillbilly aesthetics of Ellen Degeneres.
Thank you, to world's only true Genius.
Hail Kanye West, our one and only revered Yeezus.
May 25, 2016
May 25, 2016 at 4:18 AM UTC
Yes, I still feel her breath against
My ear, as asleep as my
Arm that I
Will not need to move until she
Turns in a dream,
And I sink into my own.
Never again will that passing
Train throw
Blue light shadows on the
Ceiling above
My head where her smoke
Detector
Blinks its little, red light of
Reassurance.
Whiffs of lilac as I cross the
Street to her place
Where she is waiting.
All yesterdays, now.
The right songs still summon
Recap videos of our year-and-a-
Half in
Love behind my eyes.
Not choosing suffering,
I curl up underneath a warm
Blanket of what
Was; what can never
Truly be taken
Away.
And rest.
Sometimes something flowers
With such
Grace that its passing away
Simply cannot unfold as
Any less graceful.
Ghandi shot in the chest, meeting
The Void whispering:
Ram, Ram, God's
Name, as if saying: "I'm coming,
Look, ma': No hands!"
No attachments.
Lovers no more, friends for life,
Once sharers of
Intimacy and
Laughter, tears and everyday
Moments; little
Grains of gold.
Our own buried treasure
Where ex marks the spot, and the
Map is riding on
Kisses blowing with the
Scent of lilac and the sound of
Magpies chattering against
Trains as if saying: "Just try, I'll
Take ya!"
Our attitude
In the nutshell they
Peck at with hungry
Beaks, leaving little traces like
Runes in powder snow.
To be nothing but grateful, even
For the days that could have been
Better. To miss her with a
Warm heart, content.
Wish her more happiness and
Security than I did even on
The days of
Our most intense affections.
Parting is part of Life, and
I'll remain at peace with
The parts both
Before and
After, until
My arm is
Forever asleep with the
Rest of me, resting.
Mar 8, 2016
Mar 8, 2016 at 2:34 PM UTC
You think I do not appreciate you,
You have given your everything for me,
Sacrificed your future for me you say,
well it’s now my turn,
Everything you did for me,
I will do it a thousand fold,
It’s my gift to you, my thank you.
My way of saying that I love you.
You thought it was a one way street,
But you were dead wrong,
Because I remember the love you showed,
You don’t want to let me go, and I get it.
My love for you is guaranteed,
Unyielding, never ending.
You need to trust me, in a way trust yourself because I’m a reflection of your good parts and a celebration of your greatness because I am the best of you.
Ultimately all I have is you, the one girl
That has never disappointed me or
broke my brittle heart, my champion.
Forgive my early mistakes, I’m learning
to be the man you wish you had,
Your statement to the world that you
are capable of greatness.
Being corny is something I gladly attribute
to you, it’s all you girl. Own it.
Because if it wasn’t you how would I say
that you are my Ghandi, my Einstein, my
Jay Z, really i don’t need to compare you to anyone, you are a class of your own.
The man I am and should be should be a
Reflection of your best qualities,if I lose
my way along the way know that it’s not
Because of you but because of you I will
find my way again.
But let me go mama. Let me be the man,
You raised me to be, believe in yourself
by believing in me. Let me grow, you can’t
keep me forever, let me shine so that
you shine too.
We fall and rise together because I am you,
and you are me. I love you mama.
S.M
Aug 3, 2018
Aug 3, 2018 at 10:50 AM UTC
morning dew causing (un)due inspiration
flowing out of cowards head
i see you there,
looking in as if to say
why can't i have a piece
where is my cake
yer cake is in the dumpster with
evidently unyielding unborn soul
all garbage to be taken to landfill at day's end
to be cubed by crushing collapsing compressing cuber
to be rolled over by great heaving garbage dump cesspool machinery
left to decompose and rot
like magnificent little ghandi trash
all dignified passive resistance inaction
what good is cake to the self-starving man anyway
what good is life to the self-immolated tibetan monk
is that who you are
all in flames sitting there
blue hue'd blackened bone
Aug 31, 2014
Aug 31, 2014 at 9:04 AM UTC
We are all human
She whispered to no one but herself
From ****** to Hemingway
and Ghandi to Gacy
We all have hearts that beat in battered rhythms
and throats that catch the words we hold inside ourselves
We all live, we all lose, we all love
To accept the darkness in ones self is to finally know peace
We are all human
And we simply cannot change
Jun 10, 2014
Jun 10, 2014 at 10:11 PM UTC
playing clue and sorry on the same board
singing into a fan
with a semi-blue tan.
looking at a broken poster board.
with broken tile in your hair
you think the moon has hair.
like james blubierre
making a wicker basket to hold scented pinecones
using guitar strings
with a bad marker scarf.
looking at elenor rigby's doctor
having no sense of direction
you sung a wrong turn
buddah says die
while ghandi says hi
while typing nonsense letters
with the hopes of a secret
though there's only a secret for you
The Typist
he makes a pie that's flavored like pie
and looks up to the sky
to take a cloud and ride it
looking upset
and in the rain he's wet
he walks solemly to his apartment
to type more nonsense
though the crazy get it
and the sane don't
he types for a secret
he doesn't know
he scans the words, jumps the letters
makes them dance in his mind
he wants to know more
out of less
he makes it all up
right on the spot
to sing in a song
for singing the sung
the sung are singing though the sun is hung
looking for their lovers
though the don't love back
they look at the sky for the cloud they will ride
to take them to their lover's side
though his life was in peril
he knew right away
that in the end
it would all go away
Feb 14, 2011
Feb 14, 2011 at 6:03 PM UTC