"illustrating" poems
United ***** College Fund
Continuing education in never being outdone
A mind can take you far providing you have the education supplying the fundamental tools
Intellect with the approach to define
Knowledge in resolutions to find
Education be ongoing doesn’t need to end
It’s a matter of affordability with an organization that says can
Having the opportunity with acceleration on when
Achieve is a form of excel
It’s tomorrow being our young people to tell
United ***** College Fund who has education to sell
College education being everyone’s given right
The thirst for knowledge with understanding in plain sight
It’s a solid learning foundation
A word having an expression
A sentence being the given promise
The paragraph forming the success
The College Graduate who can contest
Presentation illustrating achievement
It was the college education where knowledge was gained
United ***** College Fund wants this to remain
The aim to inspire continuing thinking minds
Achieve beyond and turn into wonder
“An educated mind is too precious to lose, but continued learning and not be confused”
Support the United ***** College Fund anyway you can
Put soar in education for our young people to explore, and turn from neglect which is an element of ignore.
Mar 20, 2017
Mar 20, 2017 at 3:20 PM UTC
The literati are moaning
about the crowning
of a comical smiley-face
with tears of joy
springing from its eyes
as Oxford Dictionaries 2015
"Word of the Year"
it's historic
indicative of a generation
raised on media shorthand
though some people think
the distillation of thought
to acronyms, symbols, emoji
is a bad thing too
but in these icons
heavy black heart
face throwing a kiss
reversed hand with middle finger extended
even the simple : )
I see emotion
stripped bare
the whole gorgeous
heart-rending, horrible
hateful range of it
illustrating the dark
and light
of who we are
as a human race
So I say hail and welcome
to the "tears of joy" emoji
may his vivid counterpoint
shine around the world
eclipsing all the words
we've learned this year
for hate.
Dec 29, 2015
Dec 29, 2015 at 11:29 AM UTC
she waited for him to erase her
as he put his pencil to paper
and created her
he traced the upturn of her smile
precisely picturing the laugh that proceeded
he sketched out the smoothness of her legs
intentionally illustrating the eagerness inside
he outlined the curve of her shoulders
carefully capturing the sadness contained
he shaded in the color of her hair
deliberately detailing her fallen darkness
in his eyes
she was more beautiful
than she could ever see herself
but with every stroke
she flinched
fearing that only inches away
from his creation
was her demise
Nov 3, 2018
Nov 3, 2018 at 9:05 PM UTC
I am gazing at an evening sky,
So fascinating! That these words are deprived to imply
It seems like a huge canvas,
That nature has painted so brilliantly taking its own time.
And with all its instinct & power that made it a bit divine.
It is certainly an incomparable art piece,
With fringes of scattered clouds amidst reflecting the rambling rays of setting sun
Best illustrating the sapient strokes of most blended colours that an artist can learn.
And that soothing cold breeze that flows through my fingers strengthening the happiness of being here.
And the whole scenery so elegant,
Stealing my contemplation so well,
That I feel unable to move my eyes from there.
I kept on staring it till the last emitted ray of the drowning sun dove into the deep darkened horizon
and the twinkling stars came, indicating the advent of another night of this beautiful autumn season.
Oct 11, 2012
Oct 11, 2012 at 1:02 PM UTC
Now some folks will draw their conclusion
But this is no illusion
Yet as I write let there be no confusion
The Robotics revelation has arrived
Whether you like it or not, you must take in as your strive
Technology of tomorrow with the future being today
It’s acceleration in every way
Robotics having the right efficiency
Humans will definitely be replaced
Human functions will be totally erased
It was talked about for years in the coming of Robotics
However, there was no belief that Robotics would come to reality
Human’s couldn’t prepare nor compare in being competition
It is just plan indication
I remember working at CITIGROUP, it was a Robot that delivered the mail desk to desk
The fact is, Robotics accomplish more and not have to settle for less
Now that is a testimony in confess
So I got my exposure into Robotics in the 80’s being the coming of tomorrow’s trend
Could this be the Human’s living end?
Perhaps
But Robotics has already begun
However, the question does come up, will Human’s still be among?
It’s not a Twilight Zone Door
It’s tomorrow’s Robotics illustrating a definite sure
Can anybody Human compete?
But for now one must simply retreat
Robotics shall be here to stay
I know a question mark over someone’s head thinking not ok
Though it is Technology of Electronics being a motion that seemed like a dream
It is not a myth but a fact
Robotics being your learning too late
You will have to now relate
Robotics will become the new leaders
They will be large and in charge
Human problems Robotics will solve
Conditions well again Robotics will resolve
You just got a lesson of Robotics 101
How you will stack up, but have you been out done?
Jan 24, 2018
Jan 24, 2018 at 4:57 AM UTC
What are the words cooking?
The flavor you add
Telling the story your fab
Your words being the ingredient on the grill
The concept you set at will
The emotion captured being a thrill
Your words having a roast
The dialog that everyone will boost
Imagine your poetry being the cookbook known coast to coast
This is an outstanding achievement at most
It’s a feast illustrating in your own words
You heard!
Just bring your words and the reader will bring their ears
A chance to open the reader’s mind
Having a strategy all combined
Win the reader over
Your confidence the reader will discover
A discovery at the BBQ that everyone will be talking about
It won’t be a theory perhaps stuck in a bout
But it is words that can
Assurance that will
Yet confident still
Words grilled to perfection and just right
Having those very words that will crave the reader’s appetite.
Aug 17, 2016
Aug 17, 2016 at 3:40 PM UTC
the summer sun hangs overhead
held there by her dreamy heart...
softly painting heavens with the fluffy clouds
softly illustrating passions devoted kiss from
the delicate dance lovebirds do in the
beautiful summer air...
she writes me romantic stories as
the first stars to pierce the
tide of evening skies
washes away the last of summer afternoon...
with the gentle blessing of
her dreamy heart she entices me to her bed
and into her arms...
with wondrous stories she has found in
the summer eve's graceful song
she tells our profound love story
set against summers beautiful day...
everyday we find each other's sweetest desires
in each others dreamy eyes
Aug 19, 2016
Aug 19, 2016 at 12:18 PM UTC
*Lightning Enchantress & Her Diamond Absolutes,
Moaning Fluxes Of Her Satellite Pursuits.,
Phantasmal Intents In Her Indigo Silhouettes.
***** Eyes & Animatronic Bliss,
Her Cherry Lips Calling For Her Symphonic Kiss,
Inimitable Raindrops & Iridescent Perpetuity,
Condensed Laments Of Her Kaleidoscopic Sphericity,
Purple Palisades & Platinum Charades,
Pheromone Verses Of Her Propelled Shades,
Shapeshifting Reveries Of Her Hourglass Fictions,
Charming Archangels Concealed In Her Convictions,
Glasshouse Perspectives Emitting Luminescent Predictions,
Magnetic Canvas & Her Stainless Vibrations,
Her Aesthetic Amour Diffusing Amplifications,
Satirical Saga In Her Spiritual ******
Lyrical Charlatans Of Her Velvet Creativity,
Crystal Flowers & Supernatural Dreams,
Befuddled Effigies Of Her Cryptic Realms,
Her Feral Gleams Illustrating A Prophetic Queen.
- 02:32 AM -*
Apr 12, 2017
Apr 12, 2017 at 5:48 PM UTC
THIS Mohammedan colonel from the Caucasus yells with his voice and wigwags with his arms.
The interpreter translates, "I was a friend of Kornilov, he asks me what to do and I tell him."
A stub of a man, this Mohammedan colonel ... a projectile shape ... a bald head hammered ...
"Does he fight or do they put him in a cannon and shoot him at the enemy?"
This fly-by-night, this bull-roarer who knows everybody.
"I write forty books, history of Islam, history of Europe, true religion, scientific farming, I am the Roosevelt of the Caucasus, I go to America and ride horses in the moving pictures for $500,000, you get $50,000 ..."
"I have 30,000 acres in the Caucasus, I have a stove factory in Petrograd the bolsheviks take from me, I am an old friend of the Czar, I am an old family friend of Clemenceau ..."
These hands strangled three fellow workers for the czarist restoration, took their money, sent them in sacks to a river bottom ... and scandalized Stockholm with his gang of strangler women.
Mid-sea strangler hands rise before me illustrating a wish, "I ride horses for the moving pictures in America, $500,000, and you get ten per cent ..."
This rider of fugitive dawns....
1.8k
Soft padded sheets with a chalk-white fade
Contours from repeated pressure illustrating a familiar shape
Indented rivets in the overused cushion where you tried to hide
Red-turned-brown spots dried, markers of where you failed to keep it inside
Timid stains of salty moisture once fallen from your eyes
Now just a faded gravestone to the bliss simplicity brought before your fight died
Deaf ears and the pleas that pass through their shallow halls
But the sound changes octaves as it bounces off the thin beige walls
And so it echoes unheard as it falls
One too many close calls to accept the sound that emulates from it all
Trembling bones under heavy skin clutching the bed-frame with an iron grip
Second only to the pressure your upper teeth have on your lower lip
Revolving doors unhinged, flooding your thoughts as they race
Tired eyes stay bolted open, not recognizing the shape of your own face
in the jagged glass that now lays fractured and stained from the image you tried to replace
But it still didn't go away
“This is it,” you say
Cavernous holes,
Once whole,
Now just hollow shells you used to call home
Empty of all heart and all hope
And you brace for the hit, the moment where it finally all goes black
And the silence will finally answer back,
telling you you've ****** it up, it's all rotted through, you didn't fight hard enough and now you're done
And every single time you're still surprised when that moment never comes
And despite the tremors and daggers, your stubborn heart carries on
So find the narrow sliver of air where reality and your mind meet
And take in all the oxygen like it isn’t always free
There isn’t much too it,
You just put your head down and breathe
Because if there’s only one thing of which you can be sure
It's that these souls were designed to endure
And "this too shall pass" will become true once more
Let your heart and its resting pace made amends
Once the shaking stops you can finally stand
And wear that smile until courage finds you again
Somewhere inside you always knew this isn’t how it ends.
Jan 15, 2016
Jan 15, 2016 at 5:52 PM UTC
every day i see your grinning face,
scowling back at you,
i push the inevitable away,
the extremist christian preacher,
trying to "save" the impressionably intellectual college crowd,
only doing it for the rise of drawing a riot,
on the concrete canvas,
illustrating muddy red abstractions of chaos,
bowing to overlording masters of extremity,
in hopes of burying **** faces,
in prismatic drippings of paint-slathered sand,
eating bland beatings of faint clippings,
yet you stand there,
emasculated in your chronic musings,
without one permeated prism,
embedded in your studded jacket,
is your acceptance of how you could be.
Nov 8, 2013
Nov 8, 2013 at 3:12 PM UTC
She denied me bail
I wish I would've known this before I thought it was cool to be in jail
Now the walls of the cell
Is like the flames of hell
Just because I advertised that life but I didn't even sell
I wish I can snitch my way out of this but only time could tell
Only if your honor would've known my parents raised me well
But I just failed
Officers locked the door after me and to my knees I fell
Praying to my God who I bailed from
Scared to read my children's mail
Frightened that I'm painting the worse picture to scale
Illustrating that the Afri-Can
Can't
Do nothing more than be held in restraint
Now it's too late to step on the base
They have me on tape
And the judge says she'll never rule me safe
I struck out
With only away games
Because they're sending me place to place
As if I have a barcode on me
Or a serial number on my face
Chaining us from ankle to ankle
I feel like I'm a part of the only population of people who are declared as equal
We all have the same attire and the same desire
My voice means nothing in between these walls
We can never come within the same harmony as the choir
So I remain quiet
I silence the perspectives my parents worked hard to acquire
Within me it all expired
All because I'm in denial
Wanting to be someone else
I realized that the guys who I idolized
Still have their life, because from the beginning it was their life
And I wasn't living mine
It's funny how now I get the picture
But until I die I will only be seen as a wallet size
Oct 10, 2013
Oct 10, 2013 at 12:13 AM UTC
And I blame the likes of JM Dematteis and Jon J Muth
for writing and Illustrating The Complete MoonShadow
so perfectly well
and Charles Baudelaire for leaving behind
his flowers for all the world
to smell the evil within their roots
and for Blake for his reeds and his tiger
and his heaven and hell
and for freezing eternity so we might all catch a glimpse
and for Bukowski and Hunter
for turning ugly truths into something beautiful
we could all enjoy hating
and for Shakespeare and Gaiman
and the dreams they weave
into the fabrics of our soul
and for the devil and temptation
and for god and shame
and for the laughter of children
and the tears of the grieving
who will never hear their children laugh again
and for those that paint
something beautiful out of all the pain
that they feel and see in the world
and the melancholy who sit high up
in dead tree branches to hang the moon
and the stars in the dark of the night
so the rest of us dont have to be lost and alone
in the lonely hours between sleep and dreams
and for each painful breath
that reminds me where love once lived
in my chest and each joyful sigh
that reminds that I'm still alive
and that somewhere between the shadows of doubt
and the glimpse of brief moments of hope
I still might find a seed shaped
like a heart beating to plant in my hand
and sew over my chest
and I can meet death
with love still living inside the cold ground
where my body will rest
Jul 2, 2017
Jul 2, 2017 at 8:42 PM UTC
Ten thousand words dedicated to everyone and everything in my life,
illustrating everything from love and happiness to heartache and strife.
I never think about jotting down much about myself except for what ills me,
so I’ll use this space at my own pace to try and explore each concept that fills me.
I like night much more than day,
it’s quiet and there’s more to what people say,
‘Cause even though I’m a good liar honesty is refreshing.
I like my music loud and long drives
but I always want to know where I’ll arrive,
It’s not that I’m a control freak but I don’t like to be kept guessing.
I’ve got an amazing memory,
you probably could quiz me,
I know almost every lyric to every song before two thousand and five.
And I’m strangely good at math,
in fact it still makes me laugh
that I was on the honour roll after missing 80 days; I didn’t even strive.
And I really love dogs,
elephants, penguins and frogs,
I believe animals are angels that live amongst us.
I love summer’s weather but winter’s clothing,
I can wear a happy mask or I’m always moping,
It’s not that I’m fake or depressed, I’m just like gold covered in rust.
I smoke like a chimney
even though I can barely breathe
and I love to dance when no one else is around.
I’m good at impersonations,
I can mimic a singer from each generation,
but it makes me question how I myself sound.
I like colourful lighters and pens,
my favourite numbers are all before ten,
And I can keep going on but it might get troubling.
I like to make everyone feel as ease,
And I like hanging out under trees,
You can call me Em but if I love you you can call me Emily.
Sep 12, 2018
Sep 12, 2018 at 8:46 AM UTC
True love is innocent
True love is beautiful
It's a touch without malice
A caress like velvet
Illustrating only true emotions
True love is innocent
True love is full of joy and happiness
When eyes glimmer brightly
And there are no false pretenses
Hidden in their soul
But Only pure intentions
Jun 14, 2011
Jun 14, 2011 at 5:37 AM UTC
(in a thick Scottish brogue)
Reality bites,
And so do I.
This little worm on a hook, called "distraction" is wriggling wry...
Let him fill my insides!
Terrified, I now fly!
Wired to a wizards whimsical wishes
Flying fishes wondering why.
Lost it, from snowballs to fishes;
Did the point get diminished?
Illustrating imagination,
Illuminating our kingdom nation;
To the darker side.
That Joker cannot hide.
S'come down to You & I.
I'd die, to hear a reply;
Wade through the ****** tears in Your eyes... please, hold me tight!
Alone; I'll never defeat, "the other guy".
God knows, my mother tried...
But the warlocks worm...
She swallowed a juicy lie.
But, through repentance-true...
She will turn around and choose to,
Follow You.
Lord God, I'm calling You.
Please hear my cry, I am so blue.
Know I'm not trying to impress anyone,
Just looking for thee open Son.
The snowflake it takes, to deliver an avalanche, must have a similar feel for that;
Just how I feel in-fact.
The ground from which I "fell upon"
Lets loose, now I'm falling so fast and all my friends are falling too!
Are we tumbling to our doom!?
The air in the room, is vacuumed out;
No doubt your mind is frozen solid now.
With the Genjutsu shout;
Your feast is ceased and now,
Its only famine and drought.
Why all this camotion, inside our souls?
Who speaks it? Who needs it?
Distractions, just aren't enough, and they're starting to take thier toll!
**** it. I'm done.
Guess I'll just let the dice roll!
Nov 22, 2015
Nov 22, 2015 at 2:42 PM UTC
Between dim lights behind and
the streetlamps below, here,
shades of darkness where
my shadow mingles with
those of the chairs and the vase,
the lamp, and the cyclic rhythm
of the shadow of the fan
that slices moments to pieces,
to the music of the gushing waves;
As you are busy illustrating slices
of life down there, you Señora,
stand illustrated, in these loving
shades of grey and black;
Now the wind travels far
beyond where the sky in her tunic
adorned of stars takes a dip
in the sea; These clouds, like me,
travel miles to weep by this same sea
that washes their native shores.
Jan 13, 2013
Jan 13, 2013 at 12:05 PM UTC
The story opens surrounding a Greyhound bus
But the dialog illustrating must
It was a normal day at the Greyhound lot
But somewhere not far away some thieves were planning a plot
The thieves were planning to rob the Shining Light Jewelry Shop on Solid Hands Blvd
But they were going to use a Greyhound bus being there getaway
No one would suspect a Hound bus going astray
So the Robbers entered the Jewelry store with masks over their face
It was a matter of precaution so no one could trace
The Thieves quickly and moved swiftly out of the Jewelry store and onto the Hound bus
It was a perfect crime with the bus being the thieves plus
However, the Greyhound Company notified the Police that one of there
Buses was stolen from the lot
The Hound bus was now cruising on I-95 of the New Jersey Turnpike heading for Philly
That might sound silly, but the heat was on in New York and New Jersey
The Police were in hot pursue
The Hound Bus was maneuvering in and out of the Turnpike lanes
Yet, the bus was speeding at 80 miles per hour
The chase was on and it was long
The Hound bus being the fastest dog on wheels, but became the subject of ordeal
But the ordeal was for real
A chase that went on for hour after hour
A Road block was at a stretch of the New Jersey Turnpike
But the Hound bus barreled through
However, the Hound Bus had to be stopped before it reaches Pennsylvania lines
The chase was still on, and Helicopters were flying high and being on alert
Suddenly, Gunshots rang out
There was plenty of commotion on the highway being out and about
But somewhere this Hound Bus chase had to end
However, it wasn’t until when
The Thieves had been driving so fast
The Hound Bus was now running out of gas
The Police were able to move in
The Thieves were arrested and out done
The Hound bus was returned and another one of my stories being among.
Jul 17, 2016
Jul 17, 2016 at 12:14 PM UTC
Life's Contradictions!
Life is full of contradictions. Take men and women as an example. They are completely two different beings. One could even say separate nations. Yet, what compliments their relationship is just that. Like a business partnership it's nothing less than a give and take relationship for the "duration of the ride." And when you look even closer, you begin to see the great wisdom, plan and purpose in just this kind of relationship. It's what living life in this world is all about. Learning to live with your opposite and making yourself a better human being in the process. Here's where the contradiction lies. Although opposite, yet made for each other!
My short Haiku illustrating the above now follows:
**two opposite beings
appearance, thinking, outlook
made for each other**
Jul 30, 2015
Jul 30, 2015 at 1:05 PM UTC
I knew a girl once
I liked her even,
but she wasnt so sure
Maybe she liked me
And believed I was pure
See I was a writer and she a poet
My pen stole her heart
Perhaps then she had known it
Each line I wrote, fufilled her fantasies
Illustrating things blind to common folk
Her sweetness grew on me
Even the innocence in her ink
But like I said she wasn't so sure
Was it my fault my feelings didn't conjure
My ego is bold and my writing takes over
Wearing my heart on my sleeve
I think thats what drove her
But then again
Intellectual love, rare to come by
We let it go, and feelings die
Still pondering on our first kiss
Life is fleeting and you will be missed.
Jun 16, 2016
Jun 16, 2016 at 6:18 PM UTC
I am intrigued by dancers
The body in motion
Weaving through whatever
Medium strikes its composer
Something in its freedom
Strikes rebellion within
To bind their liberation
Illustrating instead in phrases
I don't feel guilty
About my compulsions
Paper shackles and bars of ink
Slaves to the labor of expression
Jun 2, 2016
Jun 2, 2016 at 8:18 PM UTC
We talk as if
Your hands have more wrinkles
And your eyes have seen
The world
As if
I don't deserve your
Time or effort because
You don't want to be seen with
An embarrassment like me, because
I haven't "lived"
But please don't forget
You once looked at me with
Eyes that didn't need
To see the world,
And once, your inexperienced
Hands were used for learning the curves
Of my body rather than illustrating
The journeys that have made you so
Cultured and wise
Darling, I'm so sorry, but
You've got it all wrong
As if you know what
It really means to
Live
Sep 9, 2015
Sep 9, 2015 at 10:38 AM UTC
Currently inhabited in the crevices on the walls
Separated from one side to the other,
Contemplating my fall.
Fixated on the perimeter
Collapsing in on me
My time and being is micro,
Micro-me is managed until the crevices release
My inevitable sea of crumbs.
My inevitable sea of crumbs.
Frequently gazing in the cracks on the floor
There's a light too bright coming in,
Impenetrable for my eyes,
Beneath lies a cultivating door.
Illustrating my final chances
But the floor's ascending on me,
Slowly taking me.
My time and being is micro
Micro-me is managed until the cracks receive,
My irrevocable sea of crumbs.
My irrevocable sea of crumbs.
Dec 7, 2016
Dec 7, 2016 at 9:27 PM UTC