"impenitent" poems
You can tell by a pale shadow of former self
And shape of the scattered pieces
You can tell ,
From the pieces of the once bread basket of Africa
That someone is slowly
And artistically looting the store
I can see,
The trailing blood and the aura of warmth
That there was once,
Electrical pulse of the heart
As povo cry,
For broad-based
and inclusive Dialogue to rescue,
Yes!
I could hear,increasing calls for precipice
And wails to avert further implosion
And the winds of memory floating by
The crescendo in the calls for sound talks
Yes sound dialogue,
In the wake of an increasingly restless citizenry struggles
Still dustbin of a golden history
You can sense from the tremble of the chambers
The undying pulse and the scent of a beloved
That the heart once danced to a dreamers' beats
To them tears are,
The horse pipes they use to water their worth
To multitudes,tears are words the heart can’t express
As the black cloud sheds rays of hope
Still leaves “imminent light” behind
As the mass bank hope
In our eternal message of hope
Ushered by Martin Luther King, Jr.
"One day dawn will come".
I can see traceable traces
Of corrupt foot prints
And traceable track record
Of 'prominent' looting finger prints
As the influential turn aside the needy from justice,
Rob the poor Chimanimani people of their right,
Making widows their spoil,
And willy-nilly making the fatherless their prey!
Dear LORD!
Why your wrath upsets not these moral monsters?
Who are by no means worthy of following
Those that deprive the afflicted
Those who because of their hard and impenitent hearts
Attract your necessary reaction to objective moral ill
Dear Lord why has your wrath not fallen
On rightful time?
How can hell be just?
Apr 22, 2019
Apr 22, 2019 at 6:07 AM UTC
The first category is of upright
Men, just and well behaving naturally,
And always would like to do what’s right.
They love, and with everyone are friendly.
The second is of those who fear the law
‘Cause it exists. Sometimes they are selfish,
Sometimes remember many a fellow
Live, obey, or the law them would punish.
The third are who take kindness as silly,
Rough and impenitent criminals. Gates
Of their jails should be closed for life. Loyally
The second live while the first should lead States.
But yet, some States are still under the law
Of the jungle: where lead the best at war.
Excerpt of Delenda Benghazi, said Kaddafi
Jun 2, 2013
Jun 2, 2013 at 12:15 PM UTC
Oh the tears
Oh the pain
Oh the anguish
The suffering of the people
With their sorrowful heart
Broken to pieces by wickedness
Smothered and shredded
Afflicted and forsaken
Seeking peace and comfort
Calling out to whoever
Crying out for help
But all to no avail
I dwell in self gratification
I live in a conceited world
My words are to your derision
Denunciation is my motto
I care less about the world around me
Stinginess lies in my marrow
I am aroused by an inordinate desire for greatness
Treachery lies in my heart
I am impenitent and obdurate
I am consumed by my profane thoughts
And yet I say
I am chosen nation
A royal priesthood
A peculiar person
Dwelling in Glory and Splendor
Enjoying the Goodness of The Almighty
Not minding the world around me
Ignoring their cries
Overlooking their pains
Oblivious to their anguish
Though I know the way to peace
And God as made me a light of the world
I covert this light for myself alone
My selfish deeds
Aug 14, 2015
Aug 14, 2015 at 2:36 PM UTC
*It will never be clear to me,
If stars have shadows,
Or was it the deep, dark night
Altogether, proud
Of its profundity?
If so, then
Why do I wait for you, you,
Who turbulently loved me?
How come each of my night
Has to be for star-gazing,
And yours an early sleep?
Why do I bother,
Staring
At your closed eyes?
Tell me, why do I dream
Ahead of you,
Miles, lightyears,
A future away?
Love, perhaps, is a journey
To contentment. It is either
I am looking for it, or, with hope,
Finding someone
Who will be contented
With what I have.
So, If I will do this, bravely,
Just this, just this one kiss,
Will you kiss me back?
Because if you do, dearest,
With an impenitent sweetness,
Then I would be running out of queries,
And it will all go down
To one last question, graceful,
Unfurling,
Which I’d rather not ask,
That I’d rather leave answered.*
© 2015 J.S.P.
Jul 16, 2016
Jul 16, 2016 at 6:31 AM UTC
When you’re outside
of Christ, you risk
becoming a son… of
disobedience; pride
puffs itself up and
empty words deceive.
Without Salvation,
no one raises hands
in humility towards
a loving God; there
is no shelter, from
His wrath. Records
in Heaven above are
meticulously kept;
an impenitent heart
will keep you far…
away from eternity.
Apr 27, 2020
Apr 27, 2020 at 2:27 PM UTC
Drop in
Just in case you missed it
Lost marbles and missing puzzle pieces
If what? But, What if?
This is my only recourse
A resource of thick accents
And made up minds
That think it's all water under the bridge
The thumping of her heart subsides
Disposable income comes naturally now
She impersonates impostors with crooked teeth and bad posture
But that's just the prelude
She foresees it all
How does it look?
"Sour grapes and low hanging fruit"
"Permanence is a myth"
Case closed
"Belly button lint and earwax"
"Pay your dues"
Outcries about fiscal responsibility
"Fill in the blanks with what you want to hear"
Fraudulent pyramid scams
Pinsetters falling for ponzi schemes
That leave them with a bad tastes in their mouths
"Lets head up to Golgotha
And rip the nails from the Penitent thief's hands
Then stick them in the Impenitent thief's eyes
Just a new number to add to our repertoire"
Jun 20, 2014
Jun 20, 2014 at 4:45 PM UTC
Sometimes I have to lie to my mind in order to get some sleep at night
I am not proud of this
Sometimes I have to shut down everyone around me in order to temporarily forget about the anger I keep shut inside me
I am not proud of this
Sometimes I have to run so hard in order to make myself feel pain caused by myself for a change instead of others
I am not proud of this
Sometimes I open my heart so wide but always end up stitching it back up again in order to mend the broken thought that I can’t fully feel connected to anyone
I am not proud of this
Sometimes I let other people’s voices wash over my own in order to make them happy
I am not proud of this
Sometimes I allow myself to get taken advantage of, as if the chances I reluctantly keep giving out will make a person change their selfish ways
I am not proud of this
The word ***** hangs over my head lit up with fluorescent lights flashing wildly
Sometimes I can’t find any power in myself to curl my lips into a sly smile, I just can’t do it
Some days I am weak, moody and impenitent
I can’t deal with anyone’s **** let alone my own
The need to be alone is conspicuous and demanding, beating me up to the point where I may just concede
I have to make friends with myself again, I just need some respectful space in order to do so
Apr 8, 2015
Apr 8, 2015 at 1:17 AM UTC
Haughty with the feeling of youth
Obstinate and uncouth
Succumbing to desire
A girl set on fire
Her body was a temple
Mistreated and abused
Impenitent and unashamed
I once knew a girl
And I only wanted better
I only want the best
I only want to show her
I only want too much
Supercilious with discovery
Lustful concupiscence
Yes she wants my love
A girl I set on fire
But love is more than touch
I only want too much
She couldn't understand
A girl that I once knew
I only wanted better
She thinks that she knows best
But striving for desire
Never lead to happiness
I knew a girl
I don't know her anymore
I knew a girl
But she never knew me
Feb 10, 2016
Feb 10, 2016 at 11:48 PM UTC
All thought must be offered up as a sacrifice
The sacrifice of the human will, but after this
The judgement as it is appointed unto men
Once to die as the hue and cry of Rhadamanthus
gavel falls netherwards fore death is the epitome
Of sins penalty; the epitome of sins liability is
Therefore the holy wrath of the First Cause,
Dispensing the empyreal quiddity of eternities
Wisdom as into the fire all things are cast due
To the hardness of the featherless bi-peds nescient
Hearts on that most ancient battle field where
Free-will and Destinies depravity bewrays the
Impenitent categorical imperative that all truth
Is worshipful and the wind blows where it listeth
Since by man came the mire of death, by man also
The resurrection of the dead; and the weights
Of life and the measures of death, (the general
revelation), under the karmic laws for which All
Are to have to pay in time to come are vinadicatory
Of God, the author of all things, whose drink for
The good of all beings is always compassion thus
Serving only to render men without excuse as
Either Elysium or Sheol await, because man
Does not cease to exist in the land of silence
As the region of darkness it is not non-existence;
But it is not life when both life and death
Concern the whole man to lift up thy heart.
ELEETE J MUIR
Aug 12, 2019
Aug 12, 2019 at 10:37 AM UTC
that's just how it works
It hurts, and you get away with it
and my heart will keep breaking for you
in the night
in the morning
over and over again
and I'll smell a phantom smell of the balm of your breath
on my very own
my tragedy, I suppose
and I'll miss it
I will miss the evil that I laid down to sleep with,
the impenitent sinner that I
never went too long without locking hands with;
the behemothing horror in the strength of his
not the blameless kind of might,
not for honor, not for virtue;
the kind of strength you can only misuse
and even so, I'll thread through those buried-in-weight benches,
through cold jurers, kooks, and voles
let my little voice sound from the stand in the tribunal -
- and I'm not sure what will happen, but
when it does, I'm sure you'll know
that's just how it works
It hurts, and you get away with it
and they seem to want to watch me
while I watch you do it all
all of the things you'll say - no words to me,
just a momentary gaze my way
so the imagination can run wild
and take a good clawed hold of me for the next month and a mile
and my heart will keep breaking, and
because I'll want to get closer,
I'll dovetail my hands
and I'll bleed all my noise
right there on the stand
and it will show in my voice
that I'm blind to the dance
a mote in the sun; a thing in the sand
I still hope that they'll see you
as clawed as you are,
the odd provocant you are,
stimulated by commotion
but the resistless tendency
is as good as a gun
the pause
the balm of your breath
the ghost of a second where I cry,
cornered,
and you lunge
so I'll see a phantom smile
in the way you snarl at me
and my heart will keep breaking for you
in the night
in the morning
over and over again
that's just how it works
and you get away with it
don't you?
will you get away with it, again?
threading,
like through the seats
of that little white chapel
those buried-in-weight benches
of cold jurers,
kooks,
and voles
I'm not sure what will happen, but
when it does, I'm sure you'll know
Oct 20, 2021
Oct 20, 2021 at 7:48 PM UTC