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Mey Nov 2015
Remember the days
When we’re both drunk in love,
Hands touching each other’s heart,
And those passionate eyes.

Those were the days
When we still jump for joys,
Laughing, hearing no other noise.

But that was replaced
With words we never meant to say,
People trying to break
A love that was already at stake.

I tried to be strong
Because one has to believe
That everything is worth a song

Until then,
My hands slipped off of the rope,
A rope that once I thought was long,
Long enough for my hopes to hold.

I thought of you as the enemy
So I could easily forget all the wounds you’ve caused to me
Because it is easier to hate than nothing at all.

I though it will last forever,
The grudge I’m holding on for months.
But an angel was sent down
To guide and fix up our hearts’ frown.

I never thought how much you were affected
For I was blinded with my own fears and tears
Now my memories of us came back

As we accept each other again,
Nothing will be the same, ever again.
Questions were left unanswered
Because in love, actions will always be better than words.

Always remember
“A love that once existed,
Will never ever fade away.”
There at Qunu
Will rest forever
The Sower no one compares to
In morning he sowed the wheat
And at noon there they sowed the ****
Then he came to ****
And his hands they beat

Yet holy work never knows failure
Thus the wheat grew

At harvest
As the Messiah did for Judah
They were invited to share the bread
Without a grudge

Now
There at Qunu
He will rest forever
Free from hard work to Freedom found
And out of the sweat of
The Sower of Peace
The Sower of Freedom
The Sower of Liberty
The Sower of Love
They will reap forever
And sing forever
Rest In Peace
www.amazon.com/author/bonim007
Mateuš Conrad Sep 2018
.a woman's place is not in the kitchen... **** right! about time someone made that observation, the times i've eaten under-cooked baby potatoes and over-cooked pasta? i'm actually ******* surprised that the kitchen was ever intended for a place for women... what the **** are women doing in kitchens? given, that their offspring don't know where milk comes from... or how peanuts grow... huh?

somewhere between eric dolphy
and frank o'hara:
    in terms of lunch...
            i have to gloat over this one...
it was... simply... pristine...

                   women do not belong
in the kitchen the more i'm supposed
to belong dangling off a ceiling of
a cavern emple for bats -
men don't want women in
the kitchen...
  i don't like the idea of a woman cooking...
women can't cook...
          well, for the majority...
   what's this? fast meals,
     junk restaurants -
i'm about to eat something that's
equivalent to me having ******* it out?
sorry... no...

not when i tell what i had for lunch...
iceberg salad,
carrot,
   pepper,
mild green chilli,
         em... ****...
    turkish goat's cheese -
a pear, a ******* FIG (skin intact),
    schwarzforst prosciutto -
chilli infused ****** olive oil,
balsamic vinegar...
        
women, do not, belong,
in, the kitchen...
              a kitchen is no harem...
where... i believe...
Sappho escaped from...
                  but fair enough:
nudge budge: bear a grudge... ha ha...
it's like this teasing contest i had
on my way back from an off-lice
at quarter to 11 one night...
a boyfriend,
    a scaffold(er) and his girlfriend,
drunk, d'uh...
  joking about her height...
this: smurf -

                       we laughed
she was evidently ******* -
but in a way that we could have cuddled
and kissed falling
      acorn leaves in autumn
to imply a next annum of revival...

  but **** me, what a trinity -
a FIG a pear, (a) goat's cheese -
   and that balsamic vinegar
transcendence medium of sweet contra
sour?
        
  oh wait... that was sexist?
             fine, enjoy the microwave
    spaghetti and cheese -
      like some diabolical version
of an electric ballerina twirling -
        
   i have the neo-**** gig covered too...
don't mind, being a *******
****** and all,
   having talked to my great-grandmother
about her experiences on the Eastern Front...
giving my grandmother opiates so
she wouldn't cry and become a beacon
for the Wehrmacht...

            don't worry... i'm supplied
in neo-**** music...
just in case...
   oh lookie look over 'ere...
that song -
   feindflug's größenwahn:
bought the album about a year ago
for £15... now? it's worth £40+...
                     never mind wumpscut:
               i like the fact that there is
such a position of interests that
confiscates a magnetism of
eclectic tastes...
        and please...
   the only reason you would have your
toddler and subsequent child
to listen to classical music is
not an I.Q. resonance -
   it won't make them smarter,
fat chance in anorexic hell -
         hell, let them listen to classical
music, but entrenching their I.Q. is
not the main byproduct...
    how many people, do you know...
who have lost interest in music?
   i know a few...
   some people really, really do lose interest
in music...
                by the time when they've been
fed classical music,
   been exposed to pop, perhaps even
rock...
   and never reached the antithesis of
classical music, namely jazz...
subsequently having the zenith of
having read a Jane Austen novel...
but not a Mary Shelley -
      and not divulged into espresso quick-step
******* jargon of
poetry contra performance, bloated vocals -
and that... annoying,
generic voice, apparent throughout
the spectrum of all vocal performers -
that asthmatic quasi-exasperation
   performance...
                    
true: i could perform...
   drinking got in the way...
the prime vice...
   secondary vice?
       cooking...
              
true though...
   women don't belong in the kitchen...
what sort of man would
allow a woman in the kitchen?
   i've tasted undercooked potatoes
and overcooked pasta...
   let's just say...
  we're not on friendly talking terms.
Nyx Mar 2018

A girl that I know is brighter then the rest
She has golden highlights dyed into her hair
She's got pale blue eyes that reflect the world
And she's got a gorgeous smile that makes her glow

The girl that I know is quite small
She's around 5'3 which is like nothing at all
She likes to state that This way im closer to hell
But I laugh it off and it's all quite swell

The girl that I know is fairly easy going
She's quiet and sweet and somehow outgoing
She sarcastic, witty and a bit of a flirt
But in all honesty she is secretly hurt

She's got a few boys that she strings along for fun
But that's all platonic to all except one
It was her little secret, at least for awhile
Until her best friend told everyone within a mile

In a split instant the whole country knew
People knew her business and her reputation grew
People began to think that she was surely a ****
But you dont know her at all so keep your mouth shut

Her best friends a hypocrite and we all knew that well
Without realizing it, she had made her life hell
Telling her boyfriend everything is good and all
But there comes a certain point where there is a line to draw

This girl that I knew had no more secrets, none at all
As she told me this, her tears fell like a waterfall
how ******* dare she!
she's your best friend I exclaim
How could she do this, Has she no shame

The girl that I know isint like the stories
She's overreacts about little things and gets quite worried
she's bright, brave and fairly clever
She's a black belt, a sensei, she's so much better
She complains about her three buttons while everyone else has four  
And she talks about her life and about the simple things she adores
So how is it that people still call her a *****?

We go to the gym and then eat pizza instead
We watch barbie movies and fall asleep in her bed
We talk about life on an old rooftop
While eating buckets of ice cream till we have to stop

I know the girl better then she knows herself
I know the stories better then anyone else
I know the scars hidden deep within her eyes
And I know and have seen the tears that she has cried

So how can the world be so cruel?
When all that's she's done is just gone to school
She talked and became friends with some guys
So how can people create such lies?

All people think its their right to judge
But what right does it give you to hold such a grudge?
You say its just a joke everyone spread rumors
Let's me hear you say it again, when its your turn as the loser
So tell me then, is that to your humor?     .
SG Holter May 2014
At times I refuse to believe that
Racism exists, other than in
Movies and jokes.
It is just too ridiculous a
Concept.

In a world overweight with
Selfish, hate hurt, grudge holding
Beasts of Barely Men
With gold lust in their bone
Marrow and gold dust on their
Minds working to make it all
A miserable place for everyone else...
Judge from colour?

Who can afford to exclude the
Good ones, over something
As sadly superficial
As skin?
Angels and devils walk
Within all shades of
Man
Alike.
Hannah Beth Aug 2014
Not often did he wish for things,
He had few petty desires.
“What’ll come will come,” he’d say, with a knowing nod.
And he was happy that way. He’d smile.

Most called him an accomplished man
He left the past behind.
His monsters were gone
Defeated at last
Not many were considered truly content these days,
But this man, they said, he’d made it.

He’d sit by the fire with a cup of tea.
He’d read stories to his children, he’d sing them to sleep.
But his heart longed for little more, just one final request
Not for himself, but for the woman that lay near.

The most magnificent woman he’d had the pleasure to know
She lit up each room with a heavenly glow.
This woman, he’d said, oh, she’s one of a kind,
Not one word was questioned when he explained why.

She was the kind to leave food on the sill for the cat
That had never belonged to her
Because she couldn’t bare the look in its eyes
When the neighbour three doors down no longer could.

She was the type who could never in her life tell a joke
Because she was out of breath with laughter
Long before the punchline arrived.

She was impossible to hold a grudge to,
A blessing to the world.
Though insecurity engulfed her
Self-esteem was unheard of
Seeing herself through devils’ eyes,
Heartbroken at her own reflection.

If the man wanted one last thing,
It would be a day in his life, for her
Plain and simple.

She’d see the way she curled her hair
Behind one ear when she laughed.
A golden noise, full of light,
He wished she knew
That it put everything right.

His dying wish was, to the love of his life;
*“Please, let her see herself, through someone else’s eyes.”
i think we can all relate to the complete and utter frustration of seeing someone so beautiful think of themselves as the complete opposite, and not be able to show them otherwise. it frickin suuuuuuuuuuucks
in track
of attire
that my
grudge require
a witch
so blue
with idol
now witch
with hers
will entitle
our country
was permanent
waves in
Hatboro that
I'll always
gander with
a yarl
a song of america
Annie Feb 2016
One last time
I had to look back
I had to have
My very last glance

She was my mother
And I loved her
Earnestly
Faithfully

I know
She fed me
I know she cared
I know sometimes
She wished I wasn't even there

We could hold the grudge
For as long as you seek
But Momma,
Aren't you supposed to love me?

I desire your blessings,
I yearn for your fondness,
Momma how can you not see?
Your daughter is not what you believe,

I have become a waste
Somebody's worst day
But you don't even bother
If I leave or if I stay
what do you do when the person you hate the most is yourself?
what am I to do when all my thoughts revolve around you,
where do I sign up to get self help?
I miss the way you would do your curly hair.
I regret the fact that we never went to the fair.
I miss that black shirt you have with that little pizza slice on it,
you were my form of anesthesia, now everyday feels like ****.
I miss it. What we had, looking back, it wasn't all that bad.
I miss that time of day,
sunset,
where I would forget all of my heart's regrets
and watch you stare at the sun
we did the dumbest things just for fun.
you shined brighter than the lighter that lit those cigarettes you hated so much,
no matter how often you inadvertently hurt me, I can't hold a grudge,
you are the one who can truly judge.
take me to court, decide if I get to go free living so sadly,
or incarcerate me and my inner demons, can the state fund my treatment?
trick question, the cure is a secret.
it's not a drug, pill, or form of escape,
it was that girl I could never make feel safe.
she was the princess in the tower,
but the dragon guarding it had too much power.
he whispered my worst fears into my ears,
my mind went blank,
and that's when I sank into this hole called depression
being sad?
I'm so good at that, I'd call it my profession.
I'll be the first to admit I am very weak,
I have no right to speak.
I'll just sing my hate at the stars,
let it drift off into space.
maybe the gods above will pity my mortality,
think about my well being more than she does.
who is she?
everything I've ever wanted,
giver her back to me.
P L E A S E ...
?
sloppy sloppy don't care 2 saddddddddd
ryn Aug 2016
I am the hermit who lives in my head.
I gather...
I analyse...
I stow away all that I've learnt.

Because when the wind would blow
and the earth wouldn't understand.
When the world would tremble,
shaken by man's ruthless hand.

I am the hermit who lives in my head.
I listen...
I keep...
I stockpile in the shadows.

Because in my blood exists grudge...
And my bones, weary from despair.
My skin screams exhaustion
and my body feigns to care.

I am the hermit who lives in my head.
I overthink...
I hide...
I hoard all my thoughts.*

Because the walls have ears
and these pages bear eyes.
What my heart truly knows...
Is that your mouth tells only lies.
Warren Jun 2019
If I die tomorrow there’s some things I wish to say,
Because if I die tomorrow,
Then I only have today,

To my wife, my friend, my soulmate,
Your everything that’s pure,
Each day you give me all of you,
And the next you give me more.
You never judge or hold a grudge,
16 years we’ve never fought,
If I could pull the best bits from myself,
They’d be the ones that you have taught.
Know how much I love you,
For I’m just a simple man -
That loves you with completeness,
For it’s made me who I am,
Everyday I’ve spent with you
Has been a day above,
I’m not sure I deserve you,
Let alone deserve your love,
But said and done,
You are the one,
I fell for - with all my being,
No matter where I may end up,
It’ll be you my eyes keep seeing.
.......
And now my children,
This is tough,
Not something I’ve rehearsed,
Even just the thought of You’s,
And my heart is fit to burst,
I always wanted children,
I always wanted you,
I was blessed to have a daughter,
Then my son was gifted too,
Your growing up so quickly,
I’m so proud of who you are,
It doesn’t matter where I go,
My love is never far,
There aren’t the words to tell you both,
What you mean to me,
One day when your parents,
Maybe then you both will see,
Always do your best in life,
And always love each other,
Always know I love you both,
And watch over your mother.
........
For if I die tomorrow,
And I only have today
If my time has come,
And I’m not able to stay,
Know that I die happy,
For all you’ve given me,
Know that I die happy,
Let that thought be all you see.
Robin Carretti Jun 2018
Moved by his computer frame
Love to love you he loved to move
her body frame he loved to love
That chrome never over to be undone
  Those delicate cake fingers
Those ABC key notes
  musically wired moved by the

Marionette elementary my dear
Watson in  a chrome jar mason
Hard mission with circuits
Radio days
She was so committed and clicked
All towered like the French Provincial

"All Metal" I phone rings to his
commercial I tunes conventional
So moved by her like the sentinel
Fingers frantic through the
yellow pages loving and soothing
But that wasn't so romantic
more silver linings

But Iced latte like fine slender metal
Soft and creamy cake in her love portal
So Sara just smile she was something
In her way was the General Lee
French stewardess Wee Wee
Her chrome metal Oh! Gee

What it did to him drove him
For hours to the address named
The hard drive
Mentally he was melted
he had to stay firm but pacing like the
buzzing beehive
The midday she moved into another
Red carpet Hollywood drive
She was out of her box racing too red
Too much of his chrome wheel heat
Metallic leather moves in her heels

Mighty sweet but some
anger management to beat
The crunch the bunch the
workout being spooked out
Those biceps couldn't take a bad rap
High life joy wife loves the cook-out
So outgoing gift of gab
Jekyll and Hyde lab

That metalworking grime
More networking like the
hard water crime
The marching wooden soldiers
Christmas time got the metal locket
He was ready for her lips
fired out rocket

In the dark the spark more alive into
A gunmetal lovely portal
Moved by the rebel her face had a
dark silvery veil Apple computer
Love mentor crazy love inventor
She was hard as a rock
At the muscle club

So hushed how she moved her
lips he is the
Chrome metal built up
Was her heart moved away
Her hands tightly closed cup
It got caught on the metal chair
Moved like a piece of furniture

Shine on the modern metal lamp
It was blown glass
Like the cartoon
"Lady and the *****"
Genie just appeared
Moved by him her
metal box could tear
The Mozilla stronger then

The silver back Gorilla
Chrome attire good fella
Yahoo singer Miss Diva
Venus-Stella,
Not a child's Crayola
She loved to drink
In his metal cup mountain dew

Moved up by Mothers Day

She needed to bloom
more (May I)
Way too polite
Heavy lifting rain April
fools season
  But he had the
stiff collar June he took
such a hard drive
Moved by her chrome metal you decide?

  Cosmos two in a half
metal, she was always in the
lab finding new age turn
of the page new turf
War veterans deserve the metals
Oh! Metal Heart take a chill pill
Becoming junkies  leaders and
Quack up Doctors

(Ripley’s believe
it or metal it)
So tickled chrome pink
To forget it her cell I- O-U metal
heart phone
  Here is a link to my song I did

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=r0p-HADoF1I&t=162s

The  ammunition of
the best silver
That was Terry Tech lee
his brother was Techie
Heavy metal rounds the
sea minerals
To top things off  the
"Metal Generals"

Moved by only chrome
The robot combat type metal
Not a belly wash to be pregnant
What a moving day convent
I need my own outlet

If I only had a brain
Were built like machines
anyway
The pacemakers nothing
feels real
The Brooklyn bridge
Deal or no deal
No grudge to hold onto
Wartime metal moved by
The honorable Veterans
Have a heart, not of cold stone
if I only had a brain
  All-metal wedding  

Taking the City train earthquake moving
Speaking traditionally white
Metal is the future of the website
Well! how much olive oil can
they serve the Tin man wizardly
He crushed my cheeks like
Rotten metal tomatoes

Mr. Clean robot cleaning
up the metal hearts
Someone will throw you off the
Brooklyn, let's play bridge
Should you get a metal bridge?
The Jewish dentist, he has plenty of bridges.
You could find him near the Trump Towers.
Greeting we all feel Metallic a bit ****** but something we need to bend and expand our metal horizons there is also a link I put on here for my song but I don't know if you will get it to work but we are hard as metal  all chrome  pick up you metal phone LOL
Aaron McDaniel Mar 2013
I used to be friends with the sun
He was older than I was
Naturally he filled in that father spot that sat empty under the spot light
We used to go on adventures through the woods
We got lost in muddy Nikes and crossed clipped overalls
We'd come back to my house and share peanut butter glossed over graham crackers
Drinking milk, we were middle aged Irish men, this was our whiskey
He'd teach me how to make ants my humans as I played the part of God
Until the mountains would call him home
I asked if he could stay longer
The horizon never allowed it
Never holding a grudge
Even as he left, he painted the sky with orange grace and pink beauty

Run home

Take a bath

Get out quickly
Feel the squishy carpet beneath your toes
A carpeted bathroom was an awful idea
Dry off and zip up that onesie
Pull back those blinds
The moon is waiting
She'd help me sleep at night
Gripping onto that teddy bear that I've had since I was born
She'd talk to me about life's problems
I wasn't even ten yet, so there really wasn't that much to talk about
I'd drift off to her soft voice
I rested easy with her brushing my cheeks, a mothers hand made of reflected light

It's been years since those days
I'm 18 now
My favorite time of day is twilight
There is no Sun
There is no Moon
There is only peace
The heat of the sun leaves the day
The reflection of the moon yet to land on the surface of the creeks on my cheeks
I am crying

If you look closely, there is a time of day
Where the sun and the moon
Are but inches apart
If you squint your eyes
You will see the distaste in the rays on your skin

The moon now refuses to speak about the sun
She says the words burn her lips hot with anger
Their love was once visible, heating our atmosphere
Space and stardust have come between them, turning them cold
The sun is close to smothering
I am close to smothering

I am a comet
My parents are the Sun and the Moon
I orbit between them delivering news from point frustration to point disappointment
I am frustrated and I am disappointed
I miss when Sola and Luna could share the same sky
I miss when they could speak without arguing
I miss seeing them smile in the same room... I mean sky...
I wish my Father and Mother could speak without anger
You both created three beautiful children
Neither of you can look at the other

I'm not asking for my parents to be back together
I am no fool
I am a comet
Wishing for the Sun and the Moon
To speak with compromise
I wrote this back in July;
I was going to leave it private due to "personal discretion,"
but I feel that allowing it to be openly read will be good.
I've posted and taken down this poem a couple times,
but this time I'mma leave it up for they who are interested.
---
If physical ******* closeness
equates to you Peace of Mind,
then go **** them all, ******,
and I hope it ******* works.

Though, ******, I think you'll find,
there won't be Peace of ******* Mind
unless the person you tend to ****
is the person you tenderly ******* love;

I know it can be ******* nice
to just be close and ****,
but even then, a simple ****
is never ******* simple.

I respect your ******* right to chose
to **** without a thought of your ******* "love"
but it is that it was so ******* easy
that makes it hurt so ******* much.

While I'm sorry to be writing this,
I know ******* well I shouldn't be.
It's as if you embarked on the Path of Revenge
without the foresight to first dig two Graves.
I'm not going to ******* dwell and brood;
I'm going to express my ******-for mood:

While I appreciate your ******-up honesty,
and don't mean to make you regret it;
you ******* had an opportunity to chose,
and you sure made your ******* choice!

You ****** it up.
You ****** him.
You ****** her.
You said you didn't know why,
but you sure ******* did it anyway.

I forgave you twice, ******.
You wanted me mad at you.
Then, you ****** him and
got what you wanted.
*******;
******* two.

Don't you regret it?
If you somehow didn't,
I bet you ******* do now.
You've made your choice,
now live with the consequences.

You've ******* sickened me.
Third time's a charm.
Maybe it's a ******-up Karma
for how we got together;
"I don't do this kind of thing"-
*******! It's become a trend!

Maybe I should have gone and ****** my ex, too,
the day before our friends' wedding
without even a ******* thought of you, Love.
What a Lover you proved to be!
Congratulations, you ******* sickened me.

You don't have to say you're sorry,
I know you are; if you have a heart.

I respected you.
I trusted you.
You ******* disappoint me;
maybe you're better off this way:

So, I wish you the best of ******* luck
with whomsoever it is you decide to ****,
but, being hit yet again by that emotional truck,
this time it's yourself who you can go and ****.

[Stop and Breathe]
[Calmer]

I do still ******* love you,
though I don't ******* know why.
That's what makes it hurt so much;
it makes me sort-of want to die.

**** this feeling,
and ******* for leading me to it.

I do still love you,
though I don't ******* know why.
I will try not to hold it against you,
I will try to rise above such a Grudge.
[Stop and Breathe]

**** this feeling
and ******* for making it so real.

I do still love you.
[Stop and Breathe]
You don't have to say sorry.
Just be sorry
for a minute.
-
[Calm:]

You are young.
You have things to experience
and lessons to learn.
You need to be free.
You need time.
Live for now.

I, too, am young,
I have things to experience
and lessons to learn.
I need to be free.
I need time.
Live for now.

We are all young.
We all have things to experience
and lessons to learn.
We all need time.
Live for now.

I'm happy I get to help you, I'm sorry it can hurt.
I truly mean no harm; I seek Catharsis.

Catharsis is a form of Self-Discipline;
to be able to be there for your self;
to not **** it up for someone else just because you're peeved.
To outlet things constructively,
if sometimes offensively,
in order to further your self
and your self-understanding.

I do still love you,
for what it's still worth.

Maybe after the tides have changed
after the ******* firestorm of pain has subsided,
we can try again to hang out
but, I must say, I wouldn't hold my breath;
******.
George Meadows Jun 2020
“From ancient grudge break to new mutiny,
Where civil blood makes civil hands unclean.”
–William Shakespeare (Prologue to Romeo and Juliet)

I was hewn from the helpless limbs of a tree
Which could have grown
To become something magnificent

Through sanding and carving
Through varnishing and the work of human hands
I was formed

In a way, the tree which was mutilated to give me life
Was a foreshadowing of my truncheon fate

I swing through the air once again
A weapon in the hands of a vehement oppressor

Skin splits
Blood sprays
Bone shatters

Bodies litter the dust
Staining the earth with crimson testament
To the cruelty I have wrought
Some of the figures are marred
Reminiscent of the tree from which I was hewn
Which died to give me life

The dark throng of protestors
Are but mortals
Faced by the immortal power
Of those lighter beings
Who wield me, mercilessly

I wish to weep
For the destruction, pain
Anguish I leave in my wake

I wish I was still a living bough
Capable of shedding resin tears
Capable of yielding to greater forces
Not to force the vulnerable to break

But I cannot weep
I cannot yield

I am a baton
A weapon in the hands of those who swore to protect
Yet scythe down those who rise to protect what is rightfully theirs

Ancient grudge of black and white
Break to new mutiny of segregation
Where civil blood of those who seek protection
Makes civil hands who swore to guard them
Unclean.
In June 1959, the inhabitants of Cato Manor protested the forced removals of the time. The police were sent in and the protests turned violent.
CK Baker Jan 2017
He hit the canvass
cold last night;
that impressive frame
and charismatic soul
father, son
and consummate brother
went down for
the proverbial
10 count;
complete with iron band
and Iroquois
tap out pipes
and that fashionable
Frank Smith vein

there was no grudge
in this match
no condemning contest
or mad cap bout
just mano a mano
with the dark apparition
and it played out
precisely
(despite the bills
and pressing deadlines
and calls from Christ)
it came with tears
and fear
in that decisive
and surrealistic
voice from the ridge

they all arrived;
on plains
and trains
valiants
and fat boys
from across seas
and remote hills
bringing tales
and sorrow
angels,
laborers
and mourners
in mass
with eagle wreathes
and adorning pine

it was cited
as natural
but there ain’t
nothing natural
about The Heater
going down
nothing natural
for the
mauy thai bossman
with black leather gloves
and golden heart
the giver of hope
to those blue
collar dreamers
On a bed in which I lay
A life I see
A century old path leading
To this moment
No matter the path I took
It all lead to this
At least in this I feel no pain
No sorrow
No regret
Soon I am to meet
All that brought others and me
Heart beat eighty

I can see the glows of the tears
Slowly falling down their cheeks
People I have brought together
By my own hand and the grace of fate
Mothers, daughters, brothers, sisters
People of my past of torn from the battles
United under the pressure of loss
People for the future
Are brought another lesson of life
People of present
Given another relief from inner waterfalls
Heart Beat Seventy

My wive is closest
My daughter is next
Whispering please don't go
The warmth I feel
Is from their breaking hearts
I sing the songs from which we first met
Trying my best not to sound goofy
Managing to ease the pain for only a moment
Lights start dancing around me
Family from what seemed each generation
Come to help me across the line.
Heart Beat Sixty

Her hair lays on my chest, feels like it did when we first met
On that summer day down by the river
The water rushing through our toes as we danced the song of the winds
Laughter filled the air
Fish even decided to join the chorus
The splash of their jumps changes the beat
Our hearts sync to it
The air is filled with love
Even the angel of death paused in admiration.
Chuckling "I guess it will be a while"
Heart Beat Fifty

My sisters all gather in tears while my brothers to stay strong
I whisper to them I was sorry
For not being there in a time of need
I told them what our time apart has caused
I told them in fear I would never see them again
They became ghosts to fill the gaping hole that held in my heart for times too long
Only to dig its depth
The middle and second of youngest sisters granted the forgiveness
The older that is closer to my number still eggs the stubborn head
My brothers never held a grudge
The youngest of eight, never held a love quite like the rest
But still understood the pain
Despite having been born during the aftershocks
Heart Beat thirty

The Lights grew brighter
No sound could move
When this began I could hear the cries of women
Bringing out the next of the world
I hear the shouts of children in pain
I could feel everything
But now there was nothing, but a pressure on my chest
Dogs have gathered on my body, next to my wife and daughter
Smiling at a sight long seen not
My wife's hears their breaths and cries even louder
But no sound could be heard
My daughter knew what was coming, and joined the tears too
I felt the tears like the waters of holy river
Cleansing the filth still clinging to my soul
Heart Beat Fifteen

The voices from the past start to enter
Encouraging words that all will be alright
Everyone around me has changed
From the old that they once were, to youth in which we first met
My grandparents who died in pain appeared by my side
Looked better then I could remember
My wife was once again 16, the year that we met
My children were babies, crawled by the animals that lay on my body
Grandpa tells me that "This is the last look, might as well enjoy,
"The fruits of my labor have grown, but for now I will see the seeds,
"Each breath I take unlocks the cage that my soul was trapped,
"So I may live,
"If there is anything you want to say, say it now"
Heart Beat ten

I lifted my hand to touch my wife, as I would when surprising her with a present
I asked for a pen and paper to write one last message
My time is running out
Heart Beat Nine

The Lights raise their hands to grant me a slice of strength
Enough to help with what was needed
"To my family, to my friends"
Heart Beat Eight
"If you need me and I am gone. Look to the Stars"
Heart Beat Seven
"My mind has always been there, it was only a matter of time..."
Heart Beat Six
"Before my body decided to follow. Remember the words I have said..."
Heart Beat Five
"For each was meant to guide you. Do not allow yourselves to fall apart because of petty..."
Heart Beat Four
"Wars. I taught you all to patch wounds as soon as they are made so that you will never lose touch..."
Heart Beat Three
"of who you are an where you came from. The devil himself tried to take me over, but I fought it by accepting who I was. Do not argue over difference, do not blame any new lives that enter in the place of the lost..."
Heart Beat Two
"And do not stop being a family. Take my words and grow. I love you all with all my heart and I want you all to remember that no matter the trouble. I want you to remember that I will be still be here at your side protecting you every step you take. As will our ancestors. Use your gifts well and use them to help others. Please."
Heart Beat One
"With Love, Dakota. Blessed Be"






Heart



Beat



Zero
Aaron LaLux Aug 2018
Love Your Father & Forgive His Mistakes [1]

Had to become a man,
before I learned to become a Good Son,
for your father is your father so show him some love,
& like it or not in this live you usually only get one,

I mean without your father you wouldn't even be here,
I mean without your father you wouldn't even be you,
so what part of “Love your father.” don't you understand,
& how can I get that part through to you?

See you are the fruit of His labors,
you are His seed that was sown,
& the fruit doesn’t fall far from the tree,
so learn from His mistakes & you won’t have to learn from your own,

see your Father is not perfect,
none of us ever were are or will be,
but He is indeed your Father,
so please treat him with some dignity,
please show Him some respect,
& unconditional love,
& the next time you see him,
please from me give him a hug,
because your father is your father,
& you usually only get one,
& I know he made some mistakes but he’s only human,
& the best thing you can do is love Him & forgive them,

for forgiveness heals,
& holding a grudge is carcinogenic,
so liberate yourself through forgiveness of self,
& forgiveness of all others as well for forgiveness is collective repentance,

no need to hold all that resentment in,
we’re all only imperfect humans but there's beauty in our imperfections,
& sure the Road to Hell is paved with good intentions,
but only through cardinal sin do we find true redemption,

& it’s the smudges in the paint,
that creates the masterpiece,
it’s the past & all it’s pain,
that makes us to evolve & finally attain peace,

our art is our art,
let’s not let our mistakes make us,
most of all of this is uncertain anyways & full of mistakes,
but make no mistake you & I are destined for greatness,

& always remember that the masterpiece has a life of it’s own,
it's not owned by anyone not even the one who paints it,
just like a father does not own his son,
even if He's the one that made him,

& you are a masterpiece so give a thanks & an amen,

& then,
be here as we are as human beings,
collectively having a human experience,
moving seeing hearing breathing,

see if you're always dwelling on the past,
or looking ahead to the future,
you won't find me either then or there,
because I'm right here now for sure,

& when you finally find a way to find your self presently,
it will be as amazing as awaking in a dream,

I mean it’s 2018,
what the heck do you mean,
it seems we’ve become the whole scene,
or so it would seem since wherever we're seen becomes the whole scene,

so paint me a picture of what your Soul sees,
express it in any form you choose to work with,
sure the Saints are great but Love is our Savior solely,
& our only true Father is the one that gave us Life’s gift,

use His gift wisely,
use it through music dance laughter & words,
remember random acts of kindness are to be seen,
& unconditional beauty is to be heard,

with your ears you can see,
with your eyes you can hear everything,

everywhere,

where are we let’s take some time to be,
let’s check in with each other let’s forgive past regrets,

forgive & live live & let live,
be in peace & please let us be,
see we are poets we are painters that don't wish to be disturbed,
writing words that paint pictures of what all our Souls see,

see you have to become a man,
before you can learn to become a Good Son,
for your father is your father so show him some love,
& like it or not in this live you usually only get one,

& yes I know He is scarred,
& yes I know you see your future mistakes in his past,
& yes I know sometimes when you see him,
you just wish he’d hurry up & pass,
but when he’s gone you will miss him,
this much I can promise you,
because when he’s gone you’ll have a hole in your heart,
because in some ways your Father is you,
& you can always tell someone’s character,
by the way they treat their parents,
so be as thankful to them as you are to Life itself & respect them,
because without them you wouldn’t have been born,

so please show Him some respect,
& give him unconditional love,
& the next time you see him,
please from me give him a hug...

∆ Aaron LaLux ∆

from The Holy Trilogy Vol. 2: Mandalas
available worldwide here: https://www.amazon.com/dp/1721134158
Leseywut Apr 2014
My silence is never a weakness
For it shows darkness
Dwelling inside me
I can no longer carry

It shuts my mouth
While I try to listen
But, darling, you are mistaken
There are thousands of thoughts
Living inside me

This silence is a sponge
Trying to absorb it all
How I wish it doesn't turn to grudge
For I'm afraid on how you'll end up crawling

Pardon me for not saying anything
But I can't keep up with your crap
Trash talking
Yelling

Just wait 'til I'm done
Let me be the one to have fun
SøułSurvivør Jan 2016
Collaboration with Alyssa Underwood!


I'm not getting much from life,
it makes me want to scream!
Won't achieve my smallest goal...

let alone my dreams!
.

Your life's hidden in Christ's hands
and your competence comes from Him.
His Spirit's working His purpose in you...

despite how things may seem.
.

I'm frail and I'm weak,
I'm sorry. I'm not strong.
You say I can handle this test...

You couldn't be more wrong!
.

Frailty's the best start
for watching our egos flee.
Once we know WE can't do it...

we begin to get set free.
.

I am sick and tired
of the daily drudge!
And fellow believers?

All they do is JUDGE!
.

So lay it all down.
Jesus died to bear
the indomitable weight...

of every burden you wear.
.

Does God answer prayers?
I wonder if HE DOES!
If you go and backslide

He seems to hold a grudge!
.

I find He answers differently
than what I might seek first,
for what's pleasant now...

May not fill my deepest thirst.
.

Alright. He makes us patient.
But I can believe the lies!
He has no provision

to make me savvy... WISE!
.

If wisdom like the world
is what the soul most craves,
where's the contentment...

in those who are its slaves?


The believer is the candle
Jesus is the flame.
Thank you sister for your help...

I'm calling on His Name!

I will heed your sayings.
I have been absurd!
He's good to all His promises...

They're written in HIS WORD.
.

It's not absurd to question
or probe into our doubts.
HIS WORD can stand resistance...

through every skeptic's shouts.

We're here to help each other
find truth along the way.
JESUS IS THE WAY AND TRUTH

AND LIFE WE LIVE EACH DAY!


Alyssa Underwood  (the voice of Truth)
.
*SoulSurvivor  (the doubtful believer)
It was a TRUE pleasure to write with
Alyssa... she's amazing!

-
"The iniquity of the fathers upon the children."


O the rose of keenest thorn!
One hidden summer morn
Under the rose I was born.

I do not guess his name
Who wrought my Mother's shame,
And gave me life forlorn,
But my Mother, Mother, Mother,
I know her from all other.
My Mother pale and mild,
Fair as ever was seen,
She was but scarce sixteen,
Little more than a child,
When I was born
To work her scorn.
With secret bitter throes,
In a passion of secret woes,
She bore me under the rose.

One who my Mother nursed
Took me from the first:--
"O nurse, let me look upon
This babe that cost so dear;
To-morrow she will be gone:
Other mothers may keep
Their babes awake and asleep,
But I must not keep her here."--
Whether I know or guess,
I know this not the less.

So I was sent away
That none might spy the truth:
And my childhood waxed to youth
And I left off childish play.
I never cared to play
With the village boys and girls;
And I think they thought me proud,
I found so little to say
And kept so from the crowd:
But I had the longest curls,
And I had the largest eyes,
And my teeth were small like pearls;
The girls might flout and scout me,
But the boys would hang about me
In sheepish mooning wise.

Our one-street village stood
A long mile from the town,
A mile of windy down
And bleak one-sided wood,
With not a single house.
Our town itself was small,
With just the common shops,
And throve in its small way.
Our neighboring gentry reared
The good old-fashioned crops,
And made old-fashioned boasts
Of what John Bull would do
If Frenchman Frog appeared,
And drank old-fashioned toasts,
And made old-fashioned bows
To my Lady at the Hall.

My Lady at the Hall
Is grander than they all:
Hers is the oldest name
In all the neighborhood;
But the race must die with her
Though she's a lofty dame,
For she's unmarried still.
Poor people say she's good
And has an open hand
As any in the land,
And she's the comforter
Of many sick and sad;
My nurse once said to me
That everything she had
Came of my Lady's bounty:
"Though she's greatest in the county
She's humble to the poor,
No beggar seeks her door
But finds help presently.
I pray both night and day
For her, and you must pray:
But she'll never feel distress
If needy folk can bless."
I was a little maid
When here we came to live
From somewhere by the sea.
Men spoke a foreign tongue
There where we used to be
When I was merry and young,
Too young to feel afraid;
The fisher-folk would give
A kind strange word to me,
There by the foreign sea:
I don't know where it was,
But I remember still
Our cottage on a hill,
And fields of flowering grass
On that fair foreign shore.

I liked my old home best,
But this was pleasant too:
So here we made our nest
And here I grew.
And now and then my Lady
In riding past our door
Would nod to nurse and speak,
Or stoop and pat my cheek;
And I was always ready
To hold the field-gate wide
For my Lady to go through;
My Lady in her veil
So seldom put aside,
My Lady grave and pale.

I often sat to wonder
Who might my parents be,
For I knew of something under
My simple-seeming state.
Nurse never talked to me
Of mother or of father,
But watched me early and late
With kind suspicious cares:
Or not suspicious, rather
Anxious, as if she knew
Some secret I might gather
And smart for unawares.
Thus I grew.

But Nurse waxed old and gray,
Bent and weak with years.
There came a certain day
That she lay upon her bed
Shaking her palsied head,
With words she gasped to say
Which had to stay unsaid.
Then with a jerking hand
Held out so piteously
She gave a ring to me
Of gold wrought curiously,
A ring which she had worn
Since the day that I was born,
She once had said to me:
I slipped it on my finger;
Her eyes were keen to linger
On my hand that slipped it on;
Then she sighed one rattling sigh
And stared on with sightless eye:--
The one who loved me was gone.

How long I stayed alone
With the corpse I never knew,
For I fainted dead as stone:
When I came to life once more
I was down upon the floor,
With neighbors making ado
To bring me back to life.
I heard the sexton's wife
Say: "Up, my lad, and run
To tell it at the Hall;
She was my Lady's nurse,
And done can't be undone.
I'll watch by this poor lamb.
I guess my Lady's purse
Is always open to such:
I'd run up on my crutch
A ******* as I am,"
(For cramps had vexed her much,)
"Rather than this dear heart
Lack one to take her part."

For days, day after day,
On my weary bed I lay,
Wishing the time would pass;
O, so wishing that I was
Likely to pass away:
For the one friend whom I knew
Was dead, I knew no other,
Neither father nor mother;
And I, what should I do?

One day the sexton's wife
Said: "Rouse yourself, my dear:
My Lady has driven down
From the Hall into the town,
And we think she's coming here.
Cheer up, for life is life."

But I would not look or speak,
Would not cheer up at all.
My tears were like to fall,
So I turned round to the wall
And hid my hollow cheek,
Making as if I slept,
As silent as a stone,
And no one knew I wept.
What was my Lady to me,
The grand lady from the Hall?
She might come, or stay away,
I was sick at heart that day:
The whole world seemed to be
Nothing, just nothing to me,
For aught that I could see.

Yet I listened where I lay:
A bustle came below,
A clear voice said: "I know;
I will see her first alone,
It may be less of a shock
If she's so weak to-day":--
A light hand turned the lock,
A light step crossed the floor,
One sat beside my bed:
But never a word she said.

For me, my shyness grew
Each moment more and more:
So I said never a word
And neither looked nor stirred;
I think she must have heard
My heart go pit-a-pat:
Thus I lay, my Lady sat,
More than a mortal hour
(I counted one and two
By the house-clock while I lay):
I seemed to have no power
To think of a thing to say,
Or do what I ought to do,
Or rouse myself to a choice.

At last she said: "Margaret,
Won't you even look at me?"
A something in her voice
Forced my tears to fall at last,
Forced sobs from me thick and fast;
Something not of the past,
Yet stirring memory;
A something new, and yet
Not new, too sweet to last,
Which I never can forget.

I turned and stared at her:
Her cheek showed hollow-pale;
Her hair like mine was fair,
A wonderful fall of hair
That screened her like a veil;
But her height was statelier,
Her eyes had depth more deep:
I think they must have had
Always a something sad,
Unless they were asleep.

While I stared, my Lady took
My hand in her spare hand,
Jewelled and soft and grand,
And looked with a long long look
Of hunger in my face;
As if she tried to trace
Features she ought to know,
And half hoped, half feared, to find.
Whatever was in her mind
She heaved a sigh at last,
And began to talk to me.
"Your nurse was my dear nurse,
And her nursling's dear," said she:
"No one told me a word
Of her getting worse and worse,
Till her poor life was past"
(Here my Lady's tears dropped fast):
"I might have been with her,
I might have promised and heard,
But she had no comforter.
She might have told me much
Which now I shall never know,
Never, never shall know."
She sat by me sobbing so,
And seemed so woe-begone,
That I laid one hand upon
Hers with a timid touch,
Scarce thinking what I did,
Not knowing what to say:
That moment her face was hid
In the pillow close by mine,
Her arm was flung over me,
She hugged me, sobbing so
As if her heart would break,
And kissed me where I lay.

After this she often came
To bring me fruit or wine,
Or sometimes hothouse flowers.
And at nights I lay awake
Often and often thinking
What to do for her sake.
Wet or dry it was the same:
She would come in at all hours,
Set me eating and drinking,
And say I must grow strong;
At last the day seemed long
And home seemed scarcely home
If she did not come.

Well, I grew strong again:
In time of primroses
I went to pluck them in the lane;
In time of nestling birds
I heard them chirping round the house;
And all the herds
Were out at grass when I grew strong,
And days were waxen long,
And there was work for bees
Among the May-bush boughs,
And I had shot up tall,
And life felt after all
Pleasant, and not so long
When I grew strong.

I was going to the Hall
To be my Lady's maid:
"Her little friend," she said to me,
"Almost her child,"
She said and smiled,
Sighing painfully;
Blushing, with a second flush,
As if she blushed to blush.

Friend, servant, child: just this
My standing at the Hall;
The other servants call me "Miss,"
My Lady calls me "Margaret,"
With her clear voice musical.
She never chides when I forget
This or that; she never chides.
Except when people come to stay
(And that's not often) at the Hall,
I sit with her all day
And ride out when she rides.
She sings to me and makes me sing;
Sometimes I read to her,
Sometimes we merely sit and talk.
She noticed once my ring
And made me tell its history:
That evening in our garden walk
She said she should infer
The ring had been my father's first,
Then my mother's, given for me
To the nurse who nursed
My mother in her misery,
That so quite certainly
Some one might know me, who--
Then she was silent, and I too.

I hate when people come:
The women speak and stare
And mean to be so civil.
This one will stroke my hair,
That one will pat my cheek
And praise my Lady's kindness,
Expecting me to speak;
I like the proud ones best
Who sit as struck with blindness,
As if I wasn't there.
But if any gentleman
Is staying at the Hall
(Though few come prying here),
My Lady seems to fear
Some downright dreadful evil,
And makes me keep my room
As closely as she can:
So I hate when people come,
It is so troublesome.
In spite of all her care,
Sometimes to keep alive
I sometimes do contrive
To get out in the grounds
For a whiff of wholesome air,
Under the rose you know:
It's charming to break bounds,
Stolen waters are sweet,
And what's the good of feet
If for days they mustn't go?
Give me a longer tether,
Or I may break from it.

Now I have eyes and ears
And just some little wit:
"Almost my lady's child";
I recollect she smiled,
Sighed and blushed together;
Then her story of the ring
Sounds not improbable,
She told it me so well
It seemed the actual thing:--
O keep your counsel close,
But I guess under the rose,
In long past summer weather
When the world was blossoming,
And the rose upon its thorn:
I guess not who he was
Flawed honor like a glass
And made my life forlorn;
But my Mother, Mother, Mother,
O, I know her from all other.

My Lady, you might trust
Your daughter with your fame.
Trust me, I would not shame
Our honorable name,
For I have noble blood
Though I was bred in dust
And brought up in the mud.
I will not press my claim,
Just leave me where you will:
But you might trust your daughter,
For blood is thicker than water
And you're my mother still.

So my Lady holds her own
With condescending grace,
And fills her lofty place
With an untroubled face
As a queen may fill a throne.
While I could hint a tale
(But then I am her child)
Would make her quail;
Would set her in the dust,
Lorn with no comforter,
Her glorious hair defiled
And ashes on her cheek:
The decent world would ******
Its finger out at her,
Not much displeased I think
To make a nine days' stir;
The decent world would sink
Its voice to speak of her.

Now this is what I mean
To do, no more, no less:
Never to speak, or show
Bare sign of what I know.
Let the blot pass unseen;
Yea, let her never guess
I hold the tangled clew
She huddles out of view.
Friend, servant, almost child,
So be it and nothing more
On this side of the grave.
Mother, in Paradise,
You'll see with clearer eyes;
Perhaps in this world even
When you are like to die
And face to face with Heaven
You'll drop for once the lie:
But you must drop the mask, not I.

My Lady promises
Two hundred pounds with me
Whenever I may wed
A man she can approve:
And since besides her bounty
I'm fairest in the county
(For so I've heard it said,
Though I don't vouch for this),
Her promised pounds may move
Some honest man to see
My virtues and my beauties;
Perhaps the rising grazier,
Or temperance publican,
May claim my wifely duties.
Meanwhile I wait their leisure
And grace-bestowing pleasure,
I wait the happy man;
But if I hold my head
And pitch my expectations
Just higher than their level,
They must fall back on patience:
I may not mean to wed,
Yet I'll be civil.

Now sometimes in a dream
My heart goes out of me
To build and scheme,
Till I sob after things that seem
So pleasant in a dream:
A home such as I see
My blessed neighbors live in
With father and with mother,
All proud of one another,
Named by one common name,
From baby in the bud
To full-blown workman father;
It's little short of Heaven.
I'd give my gentle blood
To wash my special shame
And drown my private grudge;
I'd toil and moil much rather
The dingiest cottage drudge
Whose mother need not blush,
Than live here like a lady
And see my Mother flush
And hear her voice unsteady
Sometimes, yet never dare
Ask to share her care.

Of course the servants sneer
Behind my back at me;
Of course the village girls,
Who envy me my curls
And gowns and idleness,
Take comfort in a jeer;
Of course the ladies guess
Just so much of my history
As points the emphatic stress
With which they laud my Lady;
The gentlemen who catch
A casual glimpse of me
And turn again to see,
Their valets on the watch
To speak a word with me,
All know and sting me wild;
Till I am almost ready
To wish that I were dead,
No faces more to see,
No more words to be said,
My Mother safe at last
Disburdened of her child,
And the past past.

"All equal before God,"--
Our Rector has it so,
And sundry sleepers nod:
It may be so; I know
All are not equal here,
And when the sleepers wake
They make a difference.
"All equal in the grave,"--
That shows an obvious sense:
Yet something which I crave
Not death itself brings near;
How should death half atone
For all my past; or make
The name I bear my own?

I love my dear old Nurse
Who loved me without gains;
I love my mistress even,
Friend, Mother, what you will:
But I could almost curse
My Father for his pains;
And sometimes at my prayer,
Kneeling in sight of Heaven,
I almost curse him still:
Why did he set his snare
To catch at unaware
My Mother's foolish youth;
Load me with shame that's hers,
And her with something worse,
A lifelong lie for truth?

I think my mind is fixed
On one point and made up:
To accept my lot unmixed;
Never to drug the cup
But drink it by myself.
I'll not be wooed for pelf;
I'll not blot out my shame
With any man's good name;
But nameless as I stand,
My hand is my own hand,
And nameless as I came
I go to the dark land.

"All equal in the grave,"--
I bide my time till then:
"All equal before God,"--
To-day I feel His rod,
To-morrow He may save:
            Amen.
I am a vessel
waiting to be filled with doubts and reason
waiting to hear the songs that wave in the atmosphere
let your influence flow so that we all can pollute our seasons

without a blend of innocence and curiosity
you cannot have clay that molds to your liking
at least not to your tasteless velocity
rushing away any thought of magic

at one point nothing needed definition
life was all and pure to the touch
connection gave us premonition
to a universe of one

Downwards is the direction of a new soul
to land and welcome the progress
purpose and destiny do not have their hold
for we question instead of taking the chance to cherish

Now a war exists to fight for the past
while building a narcissistic future
we grudge and we pride in a false ability to last
when the cycle and spiral is infinite

we are dust for now
energy to be
a dimensional vow
spoken continuously

I am a vessel
**Faded Fate**
Ella Dec 2009
Just a random poem To postpone my english essay,
I guess it's not very good but I'll upload it anyway,

I guess I should tell you a bit about me,
Very nerdy, curly hair, I need glasses to see,

People think they know me- think I'm easy to judge
but they don't, and well, I don't hold a grudge.

I'm the unpopular girl who everyone talks to,
I look quite happy, but you don't know the heartbreak I've been through.

My poems are mixed, but mostly sad.
I guess I should stop writing now- this is getting quite bad

My punctuation isn't good, although I'm getting A's and A*'s,
My head is always in the clouds, I'm maturer than my friends by far.

I'm going to stop writing- so you can move on,
I'm EllaUmbrella and this is my song.
Emily Mar 2014
Do you think I care what you think
Do you think I care about what you say
Talk crap about me
You don't know the thoughts in my head
You don't know what I do
Or who I talk to
You don't phase me one bit
You're a liar
You're full of ****
I don't value what you say
I don't waste my time on fakers like you
Because nothing you ever do is true
Keep running your mouth
Trying to make yourself look tough and strong
But you're only making a fool out of yourself
Because you're always wrong
Only the weak minded and cruel people at heart
Hold a grudge and act bitter
You've been this way from the start
I wonder when you'll finally just *******
© Willa 2014
Mateuš Conrad Jul 2017
the ontological zenith, i.e. i'm thinking about thought... and by an ontological zenith i mean nonsense, since thought per se, is a non sensual experience, given that it's an experience of being conscious, or the cartesian sum per se.

                               the supposed "trinity"
    the 99 names of allah,
                                         and the 72
           of the hebrew god...
99 - 72?
                                                   27,
     and only given a bias toward a skeletal
            "image" - sound a bit like playing
   the earliest game, namely (ping) *pong
.

but i find something troubling,
how some accumulate
   words
   as objects, as some
accumulate objects as
         "etymological" roots
of wanting riches they can
               exfoliate in,
peacock around in palaces
of gold...
     but i'm no rhetorician
in the sense, that i might
peacock with my knowledge
of a fair number of words...
  which is why i sometimes
mumble,
        when speaking,
     and have no desire
to become erudite on a stage...

laziness?
         nope,
just a way to avoid
                                  a headache.

and it's always a return
                   to the cartesian "equation",
i have no idea as to why
there's this regression,
            
   beside the point, which i'll make
anyway, once i point out:

   nietzsche - 'a polite society doesn't
permit dialectical dialogue'...
          well well...
       aren't we living in a polite society...
last time i checked,
    people used the fist more
             than the tongue to convene...
yes, the citation is not verbatim...

       well, if no one is going to engage in
dialectics, so much for talking
about reason the holy grail of objectivity
as synonym-zenith of western culture's
   individualism quest...
         the ****? i must be missing something...

those shouting leftist sociopaths
    and those pompous right-wing
            blah-blah-bragging antoinettes?
   well, one side has to have proton (+)
qualities, and the other side has to have
  electron (-) properties...
               but there's the neutron side also,
thinking:

ah yes! the point!
             for a long time philosophers treated
thought as a subject,
      rather than an object...
    meanwhile psychologists came up with
thought being an object rather
than a subject, and out came
    the object ego, which turned schizoid
and became the trinity of subjects
   known in pop as ego, superego and id;

that's why psychology treats thinking
(thought) as an object...
    rather than the subject,
since counter-philosophy, psychology
stresses the second portion of
the cartesian equation:
i am subjected to the elements,
   to the state, to the crown,
          why would i desire to be also
subjected to thought?
   better not think, and have rants,
that "holy" right of free speech.

these days thinking and silence is
disavowed, abandoned, an orphan...
  how does that sound in legal courts?
   homicide with diminished responsibility?
  that's not a technical question,
  it's quasi-technical, but there is
homocide verdicts, and there are
  verdicts which
  incorporate diminished responsibility,
i.e.: the insanity plea.

i blame philosophers for distancing
            themselves from jurisprudence.

i still think that by treating
     cogito as an object,
  rather than a subject matter, allows me
to liberate myself from the psychology
  of the ego being a subject matter...
which would explain,
  if cogito (thought) is an object,
   i can't perform such science-fiction
allowances as
            telepathy or telekinesis,
which also implies the realism
    attaining self-fulfilment
   and independence...
          
   otherwise known as greed / selfishness -

but that can only arise when
   thought becomes an object,
   an object that cannot be penetrated,
for one, as psychology exposed / gave a new
tier of "reasoning" crafted:
  that the ego per se,
      became a subject, that split in a freudian
concotion to three parts...
     for one, the christian trinity is one
thing, but now that we have a second trinity...
   imagine thought as an object,
   i.e. a lack of lucidity,
  e.g. when solving a sudoku puzzle...
          at some points to rub against
the custard...
  
    isn't thought an object then?
    it's a very real, sisyphus moment -
although pseudo the myth -
    because the object seems unmovable -
i.e., it seems to not budge,
                       that's why this is
an anti-psychology assumption:
       i am subject to the object that is, thought;
in pig latin:
   ego sub sum in ego...
    ****, how to put it...
        i (am) subsidiary toward the object,
       that is thought... (**** it, just the prefix,
  as way of shortcut)
   ego sub- sum, quando cogito esse sum...
whatever...
   you'd think that having attended
     a catholic school, they'd bother to teach
you latin... but no! oh no!
                                        wankers;
i'm guessing the reason they didn't bother
is because i went to a catholic school
  in an irish neighbourhood...
          now? now it looks like little bangladesh.
--- Jan 2014
Holding a grudge
Hurts everyone involved.
Relationships fall apart
And the person you have a grudge against?
You dehumanize them in your own mind
And you become what you think they are.
Forgiveness brings healing
It brings love, as well as
Life.
It is restorative
Bea De Vera May 2014
People has their own opinion on things
They see, criticize and of course, judge
They don't know the joy or pain it brings
And if they do, they are the ones who bear the grudge.
Mark but this flea, and mark in this,
How little that which thou deny’st me is;
It ****** me first, and now ***** thee,
And in this flea our two bloods mingled be;
Thou know’st that this cannot be said
A sin, nor shame, nor loss of maidenhead;
  Yet this enjoys before it woo,
  And pampered swells with one blood made of two,
  And this, alas, is more than we would do.

Oh stay, three lives in one flea spare,
Where we almost, yea, more than married are.
This flea is you and I, and this
Our marriage bed, and marriage temple is;
Though parents grudge, and you, w’are met,
And cloistered in these living walls of jet.
  Though use make you apt to **** me,
  Let not to that, self-****** added be,
  And sacrilege, three sins in killing three.

Cruel and sudden, hast  thou since
Purpled thy nail in blood of innocence?
Wherein could this flea guilty be,
Except in that drop which it ****** from thee?
Yet thou triumph’st and say’st that thou
Find’st not thyself, nor me the weaker now;
  ’Tis true, then learn how false fears be:
  Just so much honor, when thou yield’st to me,
  Will waste, as this flea’s death took life from thee.
There is no blame.
There is no blame.
There is no blame.
There is no blame.

There is no shame
unless you blame
or forget to learn
there can be shame,

but there is no blame
there is no blame
no room for blame
nor time for blame,

there is no blame,
no blame at all
there is no blame,
it will only stall.

No blame.
No blame.
Make thus thy mantra:

No blame.
::
THERE IS NO BLAME
AND NO SHAME
UNLESS YOU BLAME
THEN YOU BRING SHAME

for there is no shame
nor any blame,
unless you forget to learn,
or you yet yearn
to call for blame;
and endless shame
but there's no room for blame in this life of limited time
nor room for shame
nor to refrain yourself from anything but yourself;

no time for that
no room for that
it is only hate
and a grudge,
what a shame.

Work towards improvement.

I hold no blame
and try for no shame
in who I am and what I do.
Yet there is blame
and with it, shame
but what a shame
is this blame;

Work towards improvement.

There is no blame
in the face of such blame.
I cannot blame you;
but still I maintain
that there is no blame,
nor begrudging shame.

Work towards improvement.

There is no time for blame
nor room for shame,
nor need to blame;
I hold no blame.

No blame.

Gain.
There is no blame; blame is an artifact of Ego and Shadow.
Non-blame is an artifact of compassion.

Also, after reading this, the word "blame" seems to become weird.
The Raiders show raiders v st george at GIO Stadium

    with johnny brown and Sue Longways




johnny’   welcome dudes to GIO stadium to this match between the dragons and the raiders and this is going to be a

great match, the raiders are 11th and the dragons are at 14, and whoever wins, I can guarantee it will be a spectacle

and i have Pete from Hawker with us now with a poem for us, hoping to get the Raiders into top swing

Pete”    ok dudes let’s swing it

you see the bad and mean green machine, big and strong and fast and mean

you see you shouldn’t try and stop these men in green, cause we are 3 positions higher than the opposition

Johnny’  well, short but sweet, and have you been worried about form in some matches

Pete’   well, yes, but that makes no difference, the raiders are going to win dudes, i will sing it again

you see we are the bad and mean green machine, big and strong and fast and mean

you see you shouldn’t try and stop these men in green, cause we are 3 positions higher than the opposition

Johnny’   well thanks Pete and now here is Sue Longways with another fine poem from the crowd

Sue’   thanks Johnny and what a great atmosphere here at GIO Stadium today, a great twilight match, and everyone

is in fine voice to cheer the raiders to beat the dragons tonight, and here is John Barten from Queanbeyan and he hates

how the Raiders went to Canberra all those years ago, so he sings a dragons tune

John’   go the dragons go the dragons

go the mighty dragons team

you see it’s only early in the season

go the mighty dragons cause the raiders moved here

I know we shouldn’t hold a grudge, mate, but i am and there is nothing you can do oh no

go the mighty dragons and i will go for them till the Raiders go back to Seiffert Oval, dudes

Sue”   thanks John and now here is Harold from Lyneham

Harold’   i am the bad and mean raiders fan

we supply the best coming out of the can

you see i go to the footy with mates george and dan

you see we’ll hit ya hit ya hit ya the mighty green machine

Sue’  thanks Harold and now here is the Raiders team, bring on the team

Jordan Rapana and Sisa Waqa and Jarrod Croker and Jarrad kennedy and edrick lee and blake austin and Mitchell Cornish


and Shannon Boyd and Josh Hodgson and Dane Tilse and Josh Papali and Sia Solicia and Shaun Fensom

and the 4 interchange players  Josh McRone and Frank-Paul Nuuausala and Paul Vaughan and Luke Bateman

and now here is Ken from Symonston with his poem

Ken”   i have been coming out to the GIO stadium every time we play

you see it’s fun when we win, but when we lose, we certainly do ****** pay

and the main thing about it is, we beat the easy teams and beat the hard teams but never at the best time

come on Raiders, it’s surely the time to win, oh ****** yeah


sue”   thanks Ken and now here is Rob with his jingle

Rob”     Run Raiders run

as we charge onto the GIO stadium yeah

run raiders run you see we have the team, we’ll win oh yeah

yeah we will come a running, and score a hundred tries

yeah that will be so cool,

run raiders run, oh yeah the Raiders are the team to beat i hope

run raiders run

they are the team that will thrash the opposition yeah

you see we won one and lost one

run raiders run

yeah the mighty raiders, will be our son of a gun

Sue”    thanks Rob for that and now here is the dragons team


first is Peter Mata’utia and Etonia Nabuli and Dan Nielson and Dylan Farrell and Jason Nightingale

and gareth Widdop and Benji Marshall and Leeson Ah Mau and Mitch Rein and George Rose

and Tyson Frizell and Joel Thompson and Jack de Belin

and the interchange men are trent Merrin and Heath L”Estrange and Rory O’Brien and Mike Cooper and Jake Marketo

and here is Mike from Jerrabomberra with his jingle

oh yeah those dragons yeah, they win more than the raiders yeah

they supply all the tries, in fact more tries than the locals, why don’t they win the grand

well i think i know, it’s because we lose our playing ability after thrashing the raiders here and anywhere

so go the dragons, go the mighty dragons, the right team to win the match

sue’   ok thanks Mike and now here is Keith from Latham with his song

carn the carn the carn the mighty raiders team, please dudes don’t make us say **** mate

make our raiders team win, carn the raiders carn the raiders, watch our team win well

on our home ground see, go the mighty raiders for a great victory

ya see i live in Latham and in my lounge room i have raiders cushions and raiders tables and heaps

of videos too including the great grand final victories in ’89 and “91 and the great ‘94

they haven’t won a grand final since in the first grade oh no

but if they win a few games where they don’t drop the ball too much

they will play so ****** hard, GO THE RAIDERS, DUDES

Sue’   ok that is it for me, and now back to Johnny

Johnny”  thanks Sue for telling us the teams and letting us hear some great home truths, let’s hope the

Raiders can win tonight, and now here is ?Bob from Cook with a jingle

Bob’   go the raiders go the raiders, do ya reckon we have the stamminer to win today

go the raiders go the raiders, should we win, should we win

twinkle twinkle raiders pack, how i wonder whether you’ll win

up above the GIO park tonight, make sure we clean this game free of fights

twinkle twinkle raiders pack, go the raiders through and through

Johnny’ thanks Bob and now here is Ernie from Higgins with his rhyme

hey ****** ****** the dragons are ready, are they going to win

all have the raiders put all their dropping the ball crap in the flaming bin

Shaun Fensom laughed at this little rhyme, as hopefully the raiders grab the 2 points

Johnny’  thanks Ernie and first my tip, well to the ladder, i say Raiders, on current form, well raiders be 6, could be more

and who do you support Sue

Sue’    well to the ladder, the Raiders, but on current form, dragons by 2, but i could change

Johnny”   ok, we’ll be back at half time, ok, here on the Raiders show

GO THE CANBERRA RAIDERS
Now there came a certain common ***** who used to go begging all
over the city of Ithaca, and was notorious as an incorrigible
glutton and drunkard. This man had no strength nor stay in him, but he
was a great hulking fellow to look at; his real name, the one his
mother gave him, was Arnaeus, but the young men of the place called
him Irus, because he used to run errands for any one who would send
him. As soon as he came he began to insult Ulysses, and to try and
drive him out of his own house.
  “Be off, old man,” he cried, “from the doorway, or you shall be
dragged out neck and heels. Do you not see that they are all giving me
the wink, and wanting me to turn you out by force, only I do not
like to do so? Get up then, and go of yourself, or we shall come to
blows.”
  Ulysses frowned on him and said, “My friend, I do you no manner of
harm; people give you a great deal, but I am not jealous. There is
room enough in this doorway for the pair of us, and you need not
grudge me things that are not yours to give. You seem to be just
such another ***** as myself, but perhaps the gods will give us better
luck by and by. Do not, however, talk too much about fighting or you
will incense me, and old though I am, I shall cover your mouth and
chest with blood. I shall have more peace to-morrow if I do, for you
will not come to the house of Ulysses any more.”
  Irus was very angry and answered, “You filthy glutton, you run on
trippingly like an old fish-***. I have a good mind to lay both
hands about you, and knock your teeth out of your head like so many
boar’s tusks. Get ready, therefore, and let these people here stand by
and look on. You will never be able to fight one who is so much
younger than yourself.”
  Thus roundly did they rate one another on the smooth pavement in
front of the doorway, and when Antinous saw what was going on he
laughed heartily and said to the others, “This is the finest sport
that you ever saw; heaven never yet sent anything like it into this
house. The stranger and Irus have quarreled and are going to fight,
let us set them on to do so at once.”
  The suitors all came up laughing, and gathered round the two
ragged tramps. “Listen to me,” said Antinous, “there are some goats’
paunches down at the fire, which we have filled with blood and fat,
and set aside for supper; he who is victorious and proves himself to
be the better man shall have his pick of the lot; he shall be free
of our table and we will not allow any other beggar about the house at
all.”
  The others all agreed, but Ulysses, to throw them off the scent,
said, “Sirs, an old man like myself, worn out with suffering, cannot
hold his own against a young one; but my irrepressible belly urges
me on, though I know it can only end in my getting a drubbing. You
must swear, however that none of you will give me a foul blow to
favour Irus and secure him the victory.”
  They swore as he told them, and when they had completed their oath
Telemachus put in a word and said, “Stranger, if you have a mind to
settle with this fellow, you need not be afraid of any one here.
Whoever strikes you will have to fight more than one. I am host, and
the other chiefs, Antinous and Eurymachus, both of them men of
understanding, are of the same mind as I am.”
  Every one assented, and Ulysses girded his old rags about his *****,
thus baring his stalwart thighs, his broad chest and shoulders, and
his mighty arms; but Minerva came up to him and made his limbs even
stronger still. The suitors were beyond measure astonished, and one
would turn towards his neighbour saying, “The stranger has brought
such a thigh out of his old rags that there will soon be nothing
left of Irus.”
  Irus began to be very uneasy as he heard them, but the servants
girded him by force, and brought him [into the open part of the court]
in such a fright that his limbs were all of a tremble. Antinous
scolded him and said, “You swaggering bully, you ought never to have
been born at all if you are afraid of such an old broken-down creature
as this ***** is. I say, therefore—and it shall surely be—if he
beats you and proves himself the better man, I shall pack you off on
board ship to the mainland and send you to king Echetus, who kills
every one that comes near him. He will cut off your nose and ears, and
draw out your entrails for the dogs to eat.”
  This frightened Irus still more, but they brought him into the
middle of the court, and the two men raised their hands to fight. Then
Ulysses considered whether he should let drive so hard at him as to
make an end of him then and there, or whether he should give him a
lighter blow that should only knock him down; in the end he deemed
it best to give the lighter blow for fear the Achaeans should begin to
suspect who he was. Then they began to fight, and Irus hit Ulysses
on the right shoulder; but Ulysses gave Irus a blow on the neck
under the ear that broke in the bones of his skull, and the blood came
gushing out of his mouth; he fell groaning in the dust, gnashing his
teeth and kicking on the ground, but the suitors threw up their
hands and nearly died of laughter, as Ulysses caught hold of him by
the foot and dragged him into the outer court as far as the
gate-house. There he propped him up against the wall and put his staff
in his hands. “Sit here,” said he, “and keep the dogs and pigs off;
you are a pitiful creature, and if you try to make yourself king of
the beggars any more you shall fare still worse.”
  Then he threw his ***** old wallet, all tattered and torn, over
his shoulder with the cord by which it hung, and went back to sit down
upon the threshold; but the suitors went within the cloisters,
laughing and saluting him, “May Jove, and all the other gods,” said
they, ‘grant you whatever you want for having put an end to the
importunity of this insatiable *****. We will take him over to the
mainland presently, to king Echetus, who kills every one that comes
near him.”
  Ulysses hailed this as of good omen, and Antinous set a great goat’s
paunch before him filled with blood and fat. Amphinomus took two
loaves out of the bread-basket and brought them to him, pledging him
as he did so in a golden goblet of wine. “Good luck to you,” he
said, “father stranger, you are very badly off at present, but I
hope you will have better times by and by.”
  To this Ulysses answered, “Amphinomus, you seem to be a man of
good understanding, as indeed you may well be, seeing whose son you
are. I have heard your father well spoken of; he is Nisus of
Dulichium, a man both brave and wealthy. They tell me you are his son,
and you appear to be a considerable person; listen, therefore, and
take heed to what I am saying. Man is the vainest of all creatures
that have their being upon earth. As long as heaven vouchsafes him
health and strength, he thinks that he shall come to no harm
hereafter, and even when the blessed gods bring sorrow upon him, he
bears it as he needs must, and makes the best of it; for God
Almighty gives men their daily minds day by day. I know all about
it, for I was a rich man once, and did much wrong in the
stubbornness of my pride, and in the confidence that my father and
my brothers would support me; therefore let a man fear God in all
things always, and take the good that heaven may see fit to send him
without vainglory. Consider the infamy of what these suitors are
doing; see how they are wasting the estate, and doing dishonour to the
wife, of one who is certain to return some day, and that, too, not
long hence. Nay, he will be here soon; may heaven send you home
quietly first that you may not meet with him in the day of his coming,
for once he is here the suitors and he will not part bloodlessly.”
  With these words he made a drink-offering, and when he had drunk
he put the gold cup again into the hands of Amphinomus, who walked
away serious and bowing his head, for he foreboded evil. But even so
he did not escape destruction, for Minerva had doomed him fall by
the hand of Telemachus. So he took his seat again at the place from
which he had come.
  Then Minerva put it into the mind of Penelope to show herself to the
suitors, that she might make them still more enamoured of her, and win
still further honour from her son and husband. So she feigned a
mocking laugh and said, “Eurynome, I have changed my and have a
fancy to show myself to the suitors although I detest them. I should
like also to give my son a hint that he had better not have anything
more to do with them. They speak fairly enough but they mean
mischief.”
  “My dear child,” answered Eurynome, “all that you have said is true,
go and tell your son about it, but first wash yourself and anoint your
face. Do not go about with your cheeks all covered with tears; it is
not right that you should grieve so incessantly; for Telemachus,
whom you always prayed that you might live to see with a beard, is
already grown up.”
  “I know, Eurynome,” replied Penelope, “that you mean well, but do
not try and persuade me to wash and to anoint myself, for heaven
robbed me of all my beauty on the day my husband sailed; nevertheless,
tell Autonoe and Hippodamia that I want them. They must be with me
when I am in the cloister; I am not going among the men alone; it
would not be proper for me to do so.”
  On this the old woman went out of the room to bid the maids go to
their mistress. In the meantime Minerva bethought her of another
matter, and sent Penelope off into a sweet slumber; so she lay down on
her couch and her limbs became heavy with sleep. Then the goddess shed
grace and beauty over her that all the Achaeans might admire her.
She washed her face with the ambrosial loveliness that Venus wears
when she goes dancing with the Graces; she made her taller and of a
more commanding figure, while as for her complexion it was whiter than
sawn ivory. When Minerva had done all this she went away, whereon
the maids came in from the women’s room and woke Penelope with the
sound of their talking.
  “What an exquisitely delicious sleep I have been having,” said
she, as she passed her hands over her face, “in spite of all my
misery. I wish Diana would let me die so sweetly now at this very
moment, that I might no longer waste in despair for the loss of my
dear husband, who possessed every kind of good quality and was the
most distinguished man among the Achaeans.”
  With these words she came down from her upper room, not alone but
attended by two of her maidens, and when she reached the suitors she
stood by one of the bearing-posts supporting the roof of the cloister,
holding a veil before her face, and with a staid maid servant on
either side of her. As they beheld her the suitors were so overpowered
and became so desperately enamoured of her, that each one prayed he
might win her for his own bed fellow.
  “Telemachus,” said she, addressing her son, “I fear you are no
longer so discreet and well conducted as you used to be. When you were
younger you had a greater sense of propriety; now, however, that you
are grown up, though a stranger to look at you would take you for
the son of a well-to-do father as far as size and good looks go,
your conduct is by no means what it should be. What is all this
disturbance that has been going on, and how came you to allow a
stranger to be so disgracefully ill-treated? What would have
happened if he had suffered serious injury while a suppliant in our
house? Surely this would have been very discreditable to you.”
  “I am not surprised, my dear mother, at your displeasure,” replied
Telemachus, “I understand all about it and know when things are not as
they should be, which I could not do when I was younger; I cannot,
however, behave with perfect propriety at all times. First one and
then another of these wicked people here keeps driving me out of my
mind, and I have no one to stand by me. After all, however, this fight
between Irus and the stranger did not turn out as the suitors meant it
to do, for the stranger got the best of it. I wish Father Jove,
Minerva, and Apollo would break the neck of every one of these
wooers of yours, some inside the house and some out; and I wish they
might all be as limp as Irus is over yonder in the gate of the outer
court. See how he nods his head like a drunken man; he has had such
a thrashing that he cannot stand on his feet nor get back to his home,
wherever that may be, for has no strength left in him.”
  Thus did they converse. Eurymachus then came up and said, “Queen
Penelope, daughter of Icarius, if all the Achaeans in Iasian Argos
could see you at this moment, you would have still more suitors in
your house by tomorrow morning, for you are the most admirable woman
in the whole world both as regards personal beauty and strength of
understanding.”
  To this Penelope replied, “Eurymachus, heaven robbed me of all my
beauty whether of face or figure when the Argives set sail for Troy
and my dear husband with them. If he were to return and look after
my affairs, I should both be more respected and show a better presence
to the world. As it is, I am oppressed with care, and with the
afflictions which heaven has seen fit to heap upon me. My husband
foresaw it all, and when he was leaving home he took my right wrist in
his hand—’Wife, ‘he said, ‘we shall not all of us come safe home
from Troy, for the Trojans fight well both with bow and spear. They
are excellent also at fighting from chariots, and nothing decides
the issue of a fight sooner than this. I know not, therefore,
whether heaven will send me back to you, or whether I may not fall
over there at Troy. In the meantime do you look after things here.
Take care of my father and mother as at present, and even more so
during my absence, but when you see our son growing a beard, then
marry whom you will, and leave this your present home. This is what he
said and now it is all coming true. A night will come when I shall
have to yield myself to a marriage which I detest, for Jove has
taken from me all hope of happiness. This further grief, moreover,
cuts me to the very heart. You suitors are not wooing me after the
custom of my country. When men are courting a woman who they think
will be a good wife to them and who is of noble birth, and when they
are each trying to win her for himself, they usually bring oxen and
sheep to feast the friends of the lady, and they make her
magnificent presents, instead of eating up other people’s property
without paying for it.”
  This was what she said, and Ulysses was glad when he heard her
trying to get presents out of the suitors, and flattering them with
fair words which he knew she did not mean.
  Then Antinous said, “Queen Penelope, daughter of Icarius, take as
many presents as you please from any one who will give them to you; it
is not well to refuse a present; but we will not go about our business
nor stir from where we are, till you have married the best man among
us whoever he may be.”
  The others applauded what Antinous had said, and each one sent his
servant to bring his present. Antinous’s man returned with a large and
lovely dress most exquisitely embroidered. It had twelve beautifully
made brooch pins of pure gold with which to fasten it. Eurymachus
immediately brought her a magnificent chain of gold and amber beads
that gleamed like sunlight. Eurydamas’s two men returned with some
earrings fashioned into three brilliant pendants which glistened
most beautifully; while king Pisander son of Polyctor gave her a
necklace of the rarest workmanship, and every one else brought her a
beautiful present of some kind.
  Then the queen went back to her room upstairs, and her maids brought
the presents after her. Meanwhile the suitors took to singing and
dancing, and stayed till evening came. They danced and sang till it
grew dark; they then brought in three braziers to give light, and
piled them up with chopped firewood very and dry, and they lit torches
from them, which the maids held up turn and turn about. Then Ulysses
said:
  “Maids, servants of Ulysses who has so long been absent, go to the
queen inside the house; sit
you wake up everyday for something better to come your way,
but it never does;
you hold a grudge,
all around seems to make sence,
everyone else doesn't seem to think it does.....
you hold a grudge
your life is in perfect order as you intend it ought to be,
you open your eyes and see the light shining upon you;
it shows your path as you lead the way to live day after day...
the others don't understand your works,your life, your dreams,your fortitude,your smile,and your character but you..
striving to make your dreams come true...........
Caio Consoli Oct 2018
I'm on Urge;
Do not Judge;
I love Fudge;
With all my Grudge;
~
Like Such;
Wanted so Much;
But i was Clutch;
Ate on a Brunch;
~
On a Saturday;
Like in May;
Let me Say;
Was in Clay...;
~
It was Good;
Like my Mood;
That i Could;
Send a ****..;
~
And in Despair;
I had a Flair;
But to be Fair;
I didn't Care;

--------

I'm Lost;
What's the Cost?;
I got Exhaust;
By the Frost;
~
I've Failed;
Got Jailed;
It Scaled;
Blackmailed...;
~
They're Blind;
Can't Find;
And Bind;
Got no Mind;
~
Left a Mark;
In the Dark;
Like a Quark;
Instable as a Shark;
~
In this Blend;
I Attend;
She my Friend;
Brings the END.
Empty, just like my mind.
Paramount Pawn Aug 2015
I may be rich
But I'm not a *****
Stop pushing me in
To those like trash bins
Don't want to be judged
Or hold any grudge
Please hear me out
Before I pout
Cameron Godfrey Nov 2013
I don't believe in water under the bridge
People don't just walk away
And I'm not simply holding a grudge
But I'm still not okay
I'm not okay with what happened
And though I won't let you know
It's still there deep inside
Whether or not you let it go
No, I don't believe in water under the bridge
You hurt me and I'm still in pain
And maybe I'm just holding a grudge
'Cause I refuse to be hurt again
mi Mar 2017
I have since moved on from the fact
that you and I aren’t meant to be
But that wont bring back
the two years you stole from me.

On a rainy day, we agreed to meet.
You said we’d clear things up,
to simmer down the heat
and break down the emotional buildup.
Yet you had the audacity to make me wait
Maybe you did that on purpose
or that was just fate.
But how dare you take advantage of my love?
And, now,
how dare you take advantage of my presence?

I hold on to your mistake
the way you never held on for us
Or even for me.
Because, now, I can really hate you
Rather than hate you
just because you didn’t love me .
d.j.
jeffrey conyers Jul 2018
Any slave that escape bring him back and torcher him.
Strange, but mostly true were slave masters mentality.

So it's amazing, we still, have these slave matters today.
Oh, I forgot, we call them business owners of professional teams.

Who?
Have dictated to their slaves?
I'm sorry players.
What required of them?
When the national anthem is played?
Oh, yes it's America.
And we have the first amendment as freedom of speech.

You BETTER stand during the playing of the national theme.
No choice!
Yes, your master has spoken.
You better listen?

Wait!
Do the players realize the power they posse?
Unions, years ago brought manufactures of product to a halt to settle deals.

Players, especially the National Football League African Americans can HALT any season from being played?
Power in numbers.

Who?
Would be hurt?
The masters of the slaves.
They business owners.
Many locked into deals with a various organization to make a profit.

Cities, the economy will suffer.
All those tax breaks that cities cheaply gave to get the team.
All those soda, food businesses that make money during athletic seasons.

Sure, you lose some fans than many are like fair weather friends.
When winning, they there.
When suffering you can't begin to see them.

In modern time, the slaves have the power.
Oh, my fault, the players has the strength.
And forget about threats from THIS president.

Years, ago.
He played the owner of a franchise in a sub-par league.P
Probably, still holding a grudge cause we see many present owners gathering up to him.

And, what if?
The NBA players throw ALL their support to their fellow group.
Heck, imagine the thunderstorm of losses.

Only ones safe is the baseball owners.
The odds of these players supporting them is slim.
And that based mainly on the racial hue.

So just think of the power that players got in the NFL/NBA?

— The End —