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"inheritance" poems
Rest in this, my bruised and weary soul: I was a wretch, chosen to be a beauty; a slave, chosen to be a bride; an orphan, chosen to be an heir; an enemy, chosen to be a friend. I deserved nothing but wrath and death yet received everything of life and grace. I am loved beyond any dreaming of it and blessed above all worldly wealth. I have the incomparable birthright of those whose Father is God and whose Lord is Jesus Christ— righteousness from Him and peace with Him. I am a cherished gift from the Father to the Son. I was paid for by the Son’s own blood and am "engraved on the palms of His hands." I am the living temple of God’s Holy Spirit Who empowers me to do His pleasure and bring Him glory. I am the LORD's, chosen and set apart for His delight. ***What more could I ask? But that's only the beginning...*** I will live as blessed as I believe myself to already be, for "I have been blessed in the heavenly realms with every spiritual blessing in Christ," "given everything I need for life and godliness" through knowing Him and His precious promises, "an inheritance that can never perish, spoil or fade— kept [securely and eternally] in heaven" for me. I've been "raised up and seated with Christ"; my "life is hidden with Him" in the Father, and "He will fill me with joy in His presence, with eternal pleasures at His right hand." Oh, that "the eyes of my heart would be enlightened with the spirit of wisdom and revelation" to see what’s already been prepared and given to me and to know much more fully the One Who has so meticulously prepared and lavishly given it. As I walk intimately with Him and rest confidently in Him (based only on His merits, never my own), I am given free access to my account in His heavenly storehouse and enabled to appropriate its glorious riches to every circumstance of my life, even the most searingly painful and confoundingly difficult ones. I have a spiritual Fort Knox available to me through knowing Christ Jesus my Lord, but He Himself is my greatest treasure. Without Him, nothing else matters. Nothing else has meaning if I am not found in Him, clinging to Him and carried by Him. When I finally become desperate for Him alone, I begin to understand the profound reality of all He desires for me and offers to me in my spiritual inheritance in Him. There are infinite presents to be unwrapped in His presence which cannot be told in human words or comprehended by mortal minds, but they wait to be taken hold of by any and all who would take hold of Him. ***For He gives and gives and gives and gives, and even when He takes, He gives.***#
0
Jul 28, 2017
Jul 28, 2017 at 3:22 AM UTC
~ BLESSED BEYOND ~
Rest in this, my bruised and weary soul: I was a wretch, chosen to be a beauty; a slave, chosen to be a bride; an orphan, chosen to be an heir; an enemy, chosen to be a friend. I deserved nothing but wrath and death yet received everything of life and grace. I am loved beyond any dreaming of it and blessed above all worldly wealth. I have the incomparable birthright of those whose Father is God and whose Lord is Jesus Christ— righteousness from Him and peace with Him. I am a cherished gift from the Father to the Son. I was paid for by the Son’s own blood and am "engraved on the palms of His hands." I am the living temple of God’s Holy Spirit Who empowers me to do His pleasure and bring Him glory. I am the LORD's, chosen and set apart for His delight. ***What more could I ask? But that's only the beginning...*** I will live as blessed as I believe myself to already be, for "I have been blessed in the heavenly realms with every spiritual blessing in Christ," "given everything I need for life and godliness" through knowing Him and His precious promises, "an inheritance that can never perish, spoil or fade— kept [securely and eternally] in heaven" for me. I've been "raised up and seated with Christ"; my "life is hidden with Him" in the Father, and "He will fill me with joy in His presence, with eternal pleasures at His right hand." Oh, that "the eyes of my heart would be enlightened with the spirit of wisdom and revelation" to see what’s already been prepared and given to me and to know much more fully the One Who has so meticulously prepared and lavishly given it. As I walk intimately with Him and rest confidently in Him (based only on His merits, never my own), I am given free access to my account in His heavenly storehouse and enabled to appropriate its glorious riches to every circumstance of my life, even the most searingly painful and confoundingly difficult ones. I have a spiritual Fort Knox available to me through knowing Christ Jesus my Lord, but He Himself is my greatest treasure. Without Him, nothing else matters. Nothing else has meaning if I am not found in Him, clinging to Him and carried by Him. When I finally become desperate for Him alone, I begin to understand the profound reality of all He desires for me and offers to me in my spiritual inheritance in Him. There are infinite presents to be unwrapped in His presence which cannot be told in human words or comprehended by mortal minds, but they wait to be taken hold of by any and all who would take hold of Him. ***For He gives and gives and gives and gives, and even when He takes, He gives.***#
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59
They say in this world that everyone starts with nothing, that everyone has the opportunity to climb to the top with a cup of effort and just a sprinkle of integrity, that everyone is born equal, and that everyone succeeds. They are lying, if not to you, then to themselves. Fact is that inheritance will always be present in this world; parents will always die and pass on their wealth to their children. Whether we are aware of this or chose to acknowledge its existence is independent and non-influential to this fact. A lying billionaire may have one daughter and she may never have to genuinely work a day in her life, while an honest but unlucky displaced man may have one son and be unable to give him but a pair of shoes to place over his soft feet. We are unable to alter this occurrence, for it is natural to wish for one’s own legacy to continue not only in genes, but in wealth, fame, and power, but it is crucial to acknowledge the differences of the lives into which we are born.
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Jun 17, 2014
Jun 17, 2014 at 1:34 AM UTC
Wealth
Fros-ty the Snowman had a twin brother named Lou He got hit by a truck, and we said "What the **** and "You should totally sue!" Before-he could call a lawyer along came a snow plow it mixed him up, with yellow snowman guts and he got snowman AIDS and gout The ne-xt day, Lou died but he left an inheritance check Frosty sued the man, and took all he had, then he cashed in both of the checks Fros-ty moved up north Alaska is where he's livin' where he got buck wild, and had a child, that he fathered with Sarah Palin Fros-ty the Snowman had a twin brother named Lou who brought about fame to the family name in Time and US Weekly too!!!
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Dec 10, 2010
Dec 10, 2010 at 4:52 PM UTC
Frosty the Snowman (And his Brother Lou)
Friedrich Claus Owner at Self-Employed All copyright belongs above Tax his land, tax his wage, Tax his bed in which he lays. Tax his tractor, tax his mule, Teach him taxes is the rule. Tax his cow, tax his goat, Tax his pants, tax his coat. Tax his ties, tax his shirts, Tax his work, tax his dirt. Tax his chew, tax his smoke, Teach him taxes are no joke. Tax his car, tax his grass, Tax the roads he must pass. Tax his food, tax his drink, Tax him if he tries to think. Tax his sodas, tax his beers, If he cries, tax his tears. Tax his bills, tax his gas, Tax his notes, tax his cash. Tax him good and let him know That after taxes, he has no dough. If he hollers, tax him more, Tax him until he’s good and sore. Tax his coffin, tax his grave, Tax the sod in which he lays. Put these words upon his tomb, “Taxes drove me to my doom!” And when he’s gone, we won’t relax, We’ll still be after the inheritance tax.
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Feb 20, 2017
Feb 20, 2017 at 6:26 AM UTC
Taxed to death....Saw this poem in newspaper
i hail from heat, heat in the heart and in the home, in the head and in the heel of the sword that swings for both justice and action. i inherit this love, this life and these virtues like heirlooms. i inherit this boldness from you i inherit the air of a highborn lady, while not without the humility of a low born daughter from you i inherit gentle hands of craft into fists of rage and fire that melt away sorrows from you i rise and fall, for from you i breathe. unspoken it was passed down, and yet it stirs and whispers to me in my bones of ancient thought and force, passed down from kin to kin, from one blood to another of temperance and will that flow like tradition— a book written on age-old sandstone pressed eons below the earth, text mapped in bloodlines over a body, not alone. never fading. you bid me to rise from dust and ashes into the woman of your forging, and so with a kiss between my brow for farewell and fortune i may live with your light tucked into my heart, because my inheritance lives within me.
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Jul 19, 2018
Jul 19, 2018 at 11:51 AM UTC
bloodlines
Saying my "goodnight"s to God my prayer inadvertently strays As my mind starts to wander in a million different ways. I reflect on where we started thousands of years in the past, When our first parents made a poor choice with consequences that would a long time last. Imagine: Not having to pray to God thru Christ his son But rather speaking to him as a friend one-on-one. As you walk in your garden with no property bounds You delight in the peace with the animals & the variety of sounds. But alas that deadly bite they took And the hope of everlasting life forsook. Their once perfect bodies now began to decay And onto their offspring this curse did relay. So the wheels in my head now spin To my inheritance of sin And my determination to overcome The inherent sin to which most succumb. Though the enemies try to fight To bring me down with all their might I know there is a stronger power A refuge & strong tower Into which I'm able to run When my own strength is done Because although we're born from them God's word like a precious gem Promises that to us he will incline Because between our sin & perfection is a fine line. He made us in HIS image out of love Exercising His power from the heights above Instantly displaying His justice when His purpose was diverted In His infinite wisdom knowing His true lovers could not be converted. Promising to us he would restore Conditions of the Earth as they were before Paying with the life of his Son the ultimate price So that all exercising faith could once & always live in Paradise.. © 2012
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Jul 6, 2012
Jul 6, 2012 at 12:57 AM UTC
Fine Line
Saying my "goodnight"s to God my prayer inadvertently strays As my mind starts to wander in a million different ways. I reflect on where we started thousands of years in the past, When our first parents made a poor choice with consequences that would a long time last. Imagine: Not having to pray to God thru Christ his son But rather speaking to him as a friend one-on-one. As you walk in your garden with no property bounds You delight in the peace with the animals & the variety of sounds. But alas that deadly bite they took And the hope of everlasting life forsook. Their once perfect bodies now began to decay And onto their offspring this curse did relay. So the wheels in my head now spin To my inheritance of sin And my determination to overcome The inherent sin to which most succumb. Though the enemies try to fight To bring me down with all their might I know there is a stronger power A refuge & strong tower Into which I'm able to run When my own strength is done Because although we're born from them God's word like a precious gem Promises that to us he will incline Because between our sin & perfection is a fine line. He made us in HIS image out of love Exercising His power from the heights above Instantly displaying His justice when His purpose was diverted In His infinite wisdom knowing His true lovers could not be converted. Promising to us he would restore Conditions of the Earth as they were before Paying with the life of his Son the ultimate price So that all exercising faith could once & always live in Paradise.. © 2012
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36
Thread. Pierce. Weave. Her leathered fingers pulling it though from one single taut line, until it forms a flowing tapestry of a quilt. She forgets. The mail. The laundry. The casserole that burned her house down. The threads are her memories that have been lost. Each one a moment, a place, a person. She forgets. Their names. These threads are the last she will weave. Family acts as thread. The quilt that catches her as she falls farther from herself into an image as faded as the last photo of her husband. Thread. Pierce. Weave. Thread Pierce Weave. She forgets. The quilt. The daughter finds it, and sees a half spelled out name. She forgets. Her name. The daughter brings her mother her memories. The daughter helps guiding her mother’s hand. Thread. Pierce. Weave. Thread. Pierce. Weave. Thread. Pierce. Weave. Threads become patches, patches from the cloth. Thread. Pierce. Weave. Thread. Pierce. Weave. Mother and daughter weave together an inheritance. The quilt is finished, a single name. She utters the name she has been trying to find. She remembers. Her Grandson.
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Oct 11, 2014
Oct 11, 2014 at 4:10 PM UTC
Thread
Benedict Arnold We see them. Lying in the terrorist trap known as The Uncomformers. What happened to them? Did they say enough is enough? Stab their Old buddies in their already turned backs? Well, I guess some people just don’t understand…. Look at them! They’re laughing! How preposterous! They’re supposed to be lamenting or even just Giving hushed whispers to someone about everyone else. I can’t fathom— How absurd! The Good Girls Ohhhhhh My Gosh! Can you like, See how lame they are? They just, like, don’t do anything. I mean, I have never seen any of them at, like, any party! Crazy! I know. They just keep to themselves, I guess. But, I mean, come on? No parties! Do they even know what fun is!? Last night there was this really awesome one where, I was dancing…..and drinking….and then I threw up in my boyfriend’s car! Oh yeah, Were exes now. Anyway, I just, like, IDK. I mean, who wouldn’t want to have the ultimate makeup and beauty? It’s mind-blowing! I swear their worlds are all, aerobics and songbirds. But, whatever, you know? Peacemaker Talk about irritating. I hate people Who stop fights before the crescendo finishes! Bor-ring! Drama is what I live for. Just let people ruin their lives already! I’m dying for some action over here. Hel-lo! Your “sensible justice” is causing me to have serious Gossip underload. Stop getting in the Way of everything! If you would just come in One second after you usually do, there would be so Much more to say. It would be beyond belief if you just, Go where you belong and stop Interrupting before some of the most spectacular Moments in people’s lives. Iron King This person is not so simple. Loners that shield themselves from the world Freaks that don’t want to experience reality Maybe he’s evil Attempting to hide a dark inheritance Living in his mind, the Devil’s oasis Visions of wonder and agony expressed throughout Sending out blind waves of hatred to all who will not follow him into Hell. Super creep. I hope he leaves me alone. I haven’t done anything to him…
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May 28, 2012
May 28, 2012 at 12:07 PM UTC
The Unpopular Ones
Benedict Arnold We see them. Lying in the terrorist trap known as The Uncomformers. What happened to them? Did they say enough is enough? Stab their Old buddies in their already turned backs? Well, I guess some people just don’t understand…. Look at them! They’re laughing! How preposterous! They’re supposed to be lamenting or even just Giving hushed whispers to someone about everyone else. I can’t fathom— How absurd! The Good Girls Ohhhhhh My Gosh! Can you like, See how lame they are? They just, like, don’t do anything. I mean, I have never seen any of them at, like, any party! Crazy! I know. They just keep to themselves, I guess. But, I mean, come on? No parties! Do they even know what fun is!? Last night there was this really awesome one where, I was dancing…..and drinking….and then I threw up in my boyfriend’s car! Oh yeah, Were exes now. Anyway, I just, like, IDK. I mean, who wouldn’t want to have the ultimate makeup and beauty? It’s mind-blowing! I swear their worlds are all, aerobics and songbirds. But, whatever, you know? Peacemaker Talk about irritating. I hate people Who stop fights before the crescendo finishes! Bor-ring! Drama is what I live for. Just let people ruin their lives already! I’m dying for some action over here. Hel-lo! Your “sensible justice” is causing me to have serious Gossip underload. Stop getting in the Way of everything! If you would just come in One second after you usually do, there would be so Much more to say. It would be beyond belief if you just, Go where you belong and stop Interrupting before some of the most spectacular Moments in people’s lives. Iron King This person is not so simple. Loners that shield themselves from the world Freaks that don’t want to experience reality Maybe he’s evil Attempting to hide a dark inheritance Living in his mind, the Devil’s oasis Visions of wonder and agony expressed throughout Sending out blind waves of hatred to all who will not follow him into Hell. Super creep. I hope he leaves me alone. I haven’t done anything to him…
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56
A funeral for a Great King Mourning Ageing Descendants carve their paths Glory Heorot A Demonic mood-killer Lonely Grendel A hero answers the call Distant Majestic A vow of aid Impressive Doubtful Claims become realized Death Celebration Danger revisits Vengeance Maternal A journey to the marsh Darkness Fiends An underwater duel Headless Reward The hero departs Sadness Homecoming A joyous return Stories Changes A death in the family Sadness Inheritance 50 years prospers the Hero-King Greatness Theft A beast is awoken Ancient Furious The people suffer Dust Ashes An old king rebels Victory Grief A funeral for a Great King
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Jan 4, 2013
Jan 4, 2013 at 10:54 AM UTC
The Man They Called Beowulf
thank god, above all me, born in age of female equality evolution in any other age me, a slave confined by financial, educational and social inequality fueled by power deluded women-peons leaving mountains and dungeons in passing tears of blood shed by disillusioned soul instinctively knowing, i can create my own destiny life time spend achieving smoothing the road for future daughters BUT satans has intervened once more present daughters do not value their priceless inheritance many squander it, willingly but few remain with noble footing instinctively calling out, to higher power uneducated, still knowing god exist, he is watching and my inner strength comes from my creator who created for a purpose hail the king of kings
0
Jan 13, 2014
Jan 13, 2014 at 4:59 AM UTC
born during female revolution
Regarding entitlement What is really true? Look at the contract; What are you entitled to? Who told you what, When and where, And why should anyone Besides yourself care? What are the terms of This entitlement scheme? Are they exactly as Precise as they seem? What was promised That you feel cheated? Is there an inheritance That has not been treated? Are you an heir or else A member of royalty And thus deserve to Have absolute loyalty? Are there lands and deeds You feel are owed you Or is it just that you feel Everyone is below you? It would help you and us If you could narrow this down. Do you feel you own everything And everyone in around? Do you feel we should bend And bow as you pass And that maybe we should Kiss your noble ***
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Jun 13, 2015
Jun 13, 2015 at 6:45 PM UTC
A SENSE OF ENTITLEMENT
i seem to only see three constellations in the night sky these days... the modo - it be the sign of: the age of scorpio, there's but the big & little dipper (respectively) º                º                       º                               º                                                             º                                   º                                                      º do these people really need to be spoon fed? the smaller dipper is akin to the big dipper, hence to write in the other and last constellation (minus that odd rhombus without a name) -   and believe me when i say: orthodox astrology doesn't agree with me:                           º                        º                     º                        º                          º                                        º                          º   i guess i managed to draw the right schematic,    besides the point, there are but three constellations in the night sky around here, and one is a revisionist take on the scorpio... **** you hippies, and your age of aquarius,      this is what a scorpion looks like, and nothing what you've indicated, i'm starting to think that astrologists did poorly in geometry class... but i'll end it on a positive note...       *there is more dignity in being ascribed an epitaph, than being given a "proper" burial...* and by "proper" i mean: the leech family members waiting for inheritance,   the sycophantic actors of attendance - throw me into a mass grave, i don't mind for a "proper" burial...    there is no dignity in whatever burial ensues as many will do... but allow man to transcend the date of birth ** / yy / zz and the date of death zz / yy / ** with an epitaph...         however "wise" the man was in life, his dignity only arrives postmortem, in the form of an epitaph... but one epitaph overshadows a thousand quotable mentions of the man, when alive, but one epitaph of a david, overcomes the oeuvre of maxims of a goliath.      whatever argument for light pollution exists, even when in the scottish highlands i didn't see any more stars...   there are only three constellations in play on the night sky,   and one of them is the genuine scorpio constellation, with the orthodox constellation being bogus, fake, unnecessary... i, i've spotted the constellation of scorpio, and i did so: with my naked eyes!
0
Oct 12, 2017
Oct 12, 2017 at 8:21 PM UTC
modo tribus constellatio / tempus ex scorpio
i seem to only see three constellations in the night sky these days... the modo - it be the sign of: the age of scorpio, there's but the big & little dipper (respectively) º                º                       º                               º                                                             º                                   º                                                      º do these people really need to be spoon fed? the smaller dipper is akin to the big dipper, hence to write in the other and last constellation (minus that odd rhombus without a name) -   and believe me when i say: orthodox astrology doesn't agree with me:                           º                        º                     º                        º                          º                                        º                          º   i guess i managed to draw the right schematic,    besides the point, there are but three constellations in the night sky around here, and one is a revisionist take on the scorpio... **** you hippies, and your age of aquarius,      this is what a scorpion looks like, and nothing what you've indicated, i'm starting to think that astrologists did poorly in geometry class... but i'll end it on a positive note...       *there is more dignity in being ascribed an epitaph, than being given a "proper" burial...* and by "proper" i mean: the leech family members waiting for inheritance,   the sycophantic actors of attendance - throw me into a mass grave, i don't mind for a "proper" burial...    there is no dignity in whatever burial ensues as many will do... but allow man to transcend the date of birth ** / yy / zz and the date of death zz / yy / ** with an epitaph...         however "wise" the man was in life, his dignity only arrives postmortem, in the form of an epitaph... but one epitaph overshadows a thousand quotable mentions of the man, when alive, but one epitaph of a david, overcomes the oeuvre of maxims of a goliath.      whatever argument for light pollution exists, even when in the scottish highlands i didn't see any more stars...   there are only three constellations in play on the night sky,   and one of them is the genuine scorpio constellation, with the orthodox constellation being bogus, fake, unnecessary... i, i've spotted the constellation of scorpio, and i did so: with my naked eyes!
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67
All the Latinas are sitting together. All of the Asians are sitting together. All of the Middle Easterns are sitting together. The whites are everywhere in the room. I am sitting next to the Latinas, Behind the Middle Easterns and in front of a black dude. A Puerto Rican is wearing a hat saying "Reckless". I am wearing a hat saying, "Cape Cod". I am in the middle of the room. 5 blondes are clumped together... ...no hats We are all learning about ****** inheritance of different physical traits. *** caused all of this.
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Nov 8, 2013
Nov 8, 2013 at 1:24 PM UTC
Genetics Class
With the house they are selling their childhood and adolescence, five funny brothers and grandmother's sweets, late night dramas and the unattractive maids they inherited, cigarettes they puffed secretly and lessons they learned with jackfruit pulp. Now the roots are being pulled and I wonder what'll be left. I wish people live there, generations come and play on its front yard and I hope my ancestors understand new generation urbanism and modernity.
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Nov 15, 2015
Nov 15, 2015 at 8:02 AM UTC
falling inheritance
*"I call people creatures sometimes That may not Be a good sign"         -mikecccc* I can't help but wonder what the writer's trying to convey, And in my mind I picture one of the creatures who say; "We're much more like people than humans are anyway, As proven by Jean Baptiste Pierre Antoine de Monet, Inheritance played a part in changing human DNA, Which caused you to view every creature as prey, So next time you blurt out a line so passé Remember it's us you're insulting today." And with that the fair creature returned on it's way, Whilst the humans returned and lined up for their pay, Earned from the torn earth and the creatures they slay. I ask my fellow writer a question if I may; Was it your intent to insult creatures that day?
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Dec 20, 2015
Dec 20, 2015 at 10:06 AM UTC
The Creatures Response
**** off mankind, And give the Earth a chance! Nature might find In her inheritance The seedlings of a race Less infinitely base.
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3.5k
Optimist
So… he looked on, watching from afar the imagery of family. Now alone, sitting in place on an old cranky stubborn porch, eighty-one years of tears laughter and memory/smiled; his smiled gleamed through the haze and humidly of another summer day: a day that reminded him of his younger years when the joy in many eyes gathered for a day of barbecue and rejoice in his voice, as his raspy cough briefly interrupted the moment, was the song of an elderly man missing the days of innocence but briefly in this time, in the sight of the young boy he now studied from across the street he saw a familiarity. His vision saw support and togetherness; his hearing heard the song of compassion and in the charcoaled flavored heat, his heart felt what he thought was forgotten; the genius and destiny of hope. In his life he has seen once inspiring brick-layered sidewalks become the mask of crime that has kidnapped a neighborhood once proud. He has seen the dreams of children become temporarily paralyzed by the heights of poverty and many visions of fear. He watched in silence over all these years but the tears of his mind has always been vocal. The shackles of osteoarthritis that now held on to his bones and the slight battle with old-aged deafness that now challenged the vibration of harmony and not even the parade of high blood pressure marching through his veins could keep him from feeling the pain and decay of days passed. But as he looked on at the sight of burgers and hotdogs sizzling on the grill; as he looked on at the pleasantries of young and old joining in good times and fun playing the games of life; as he looked on and lived again through the body language of the young boy who now looked back at him he saw the glimpse of renewal in a community holding on to the aspects of a neighborhood’s inheritance. For the first time in many decades, he saw the enjoyment in dancing trees that waltzed in the breezes of tomorrow; he felt shades of sweat trickle down his bronzed almond skin that was the welcomed condensation of happiness and he smelled a renewed energy of genetic fortitude that was family all in the aroma of summer cooking -- and so…he dreamed on.
0
Jul 8, 2012
Jul 8, 2012 at 9:47 AM UTC
Summer Cooking
So… he looked on, watching from afar the imagery of family. Now alone, sitting in place on an old cranky stubborn porch, eighty-one years of tears laughter and memory/smiled; his smiled gleamed through the haze and humidly of another summer day: a day that reminded him of his younger years when the joy in many eyes gathered for a day of barbecue and rejoice in his voice, as his raspy cough briefly interrupted the moment, was the song of an elderly man missing the days of innocence but briefly in this time, in the sight of the young boy he now studied from across the street he saw a familiarity. His vision saw support and togetherness; his hearing heard the song of compassion and in the charcoaled flavored heat, his heart felt what he thought was forgotten; the genius and destiny of hope. In his life he has seen once inspiring brick-layered sidewalks become the mask of crime that has kidnapped a neighborhood once proud. He has seen the dreams of children become temporarily paralyzed by the heights of poverty and many visions of fear. He watched in silence over all these years but the tears of his mind has always been vocal. The shackles of osteoarthritis that now held on to his bones and the slight battle with old-aged deafness that now challenged the vibration of harmony and not even the parade of high blood pressure marching through his veins could keep him from feeling the pain and decay of days passed. But as he looked on at the sight of burgers and hotdogs sizzling on the grill; as he looked on at the pleasantries of young and old joining in good times and fun playing the games of life; as he looked on and lived again through the body language of the young boy who now looked back at him he saw the glimpse of renewal in a community holding on to the aspects of a neighborhood’s inheritance. For the first time in many decades, he saw the enjoyment in dancing trees that waltzed in the breezes of tomorrow; he felt shades of sweat trickle down his bronzed almond skin that was the welcomed condensation of happiness and he smelled a renewed energy of genetic fortitude that was family all in the aroma of summer cooking -- and so…he dreamed on.
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43
Most people sacrifice long term substantial gains for short term fleeting pleasures and so they squander their inheritance which consists of blissful heavenly treasures.
0
Jan 11, 2016
Jan 11, 2016 at 5:11 PM UTC
Simple Observation #227 - Most people sacrifice long term....
Beautiful minds endure erosion of time. Beautiful faces fade with time. Beautiful minds come with years of cultivation. Beautiful faces are shallow promises. Beautiful faces are lucky inheritance. A beautiful mind, your soul truly reveals. By Wyle Tan
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Sep 28, 2016
Sep 28, 2016 at 8:49 PM UTC
Beauty of Mind
My mommy Sold me She was cold and Lonely inheritance I didn't have Her drug/pill habit took all of it So sad My mommy was so sick she took the world around her with her She did things that rhyme with slick butter things that make a twitch In college school she found a ray Her cowboy hero had found his crazy My mommy was that crazy So beaten, unloved/enslaved, insane My mommy was so crazy So crazy So crazy So Crazy So Crazy So Crazy So Crazy So Crazy So Crazy So Crazy So Crazy So Crazy So Crazy So Crazy So Crazy So Crazy So Crazy So Crazy So Crazy So Crazy So Crazy So Crazy So Crazy My mommy was so sick she took our family with her killed all of them So sick "There's no good dyin' alone." she said "There's no sense livin' alone." she said My mommy threw all of it Never saved She only spent She bet her roll on all of it and fed them death She died with them My mommy was so sick she took the world around her with (her) My mommy Sold me She was cold So lonely
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Nov 10, 2014
Nov 10, 2014 at 11:46 AM UTC
****** Mommy Song
--- **i'm here invisible hand retching in your pocket reaching in your face teaching all or nothing blue bottles buzz round my head in circles making me dizzy I pick a posie of dandilions gone to seed I foray about looking for the shiniest diamonds in aluminum cans the brass ring must certainly be tarnished gold the forge bellows that is my chest heaves in another cough cooling my tounge the empty wind that echos ashes spent embers collect in the cracks of the abyss my bones which were disjointed oh so slowly reassemble instantly but someone at the factory didn't read the destructions my legs are arms my hands feet i lie under a cold sky in july oh don't cry when i die no whitened seplechur my inheritance my epitaph nonsense a palm tree o'r my grave** soulsurvivor (C) 6/13/2015
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Jun 14, 2015
Jun 14, 2015 at 12:38 AM UTC
derelict
When God sowed darkness and the Devil a ***** Abuela dug so deep her oldest son fell through. I dangled my constellations like ghosts that might carry him to the surface, a grip hard as ice, a grip twice as thin. Inertia yanked ten in two -- five fingers, pop; ten fingers, stop -- he took them all down, the tendons’ endless unfurling. I, ladder, endlessly descending. He, father, ends up standing.
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May 17, 2018
May 17, 2018 at 3:29 PM UTC
Inheritance
I sleep in pitch black rooms and wait for candles to light themselves Thoughts the same shade of dark. Counting sheep as they hop into slaughter houses of gluttonous, avaricious men who trade their humanity for pocket change. While satans minions work with circumspectivness to reap what their slave-like bourgeois have sewn living with a motto of Yesterday is history tomorrow is a mystery In the Meantime fribble prodigal sons of the privileged ponder their inheritance While the daughter of a currier burns her fathers letters because something's are best left unknown and the candles remain unlit. But beauteous animals still roam free in the wild, little kids still smile. There's hope in the heart of each child. Sitting in seclusion and coming to Ambiguous conclusions is always productive So When did the key to success become failure? when wasn't it?
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Jul 26, 2013
Jul 26, 2013 at 7:43 PM UTC
Subliminal cryptogram
Matrilineality is the tracing of descent through the female line corresponding to a societal system in which each person is identified with their matriline;              – their _mother's_ image – and which can involve the inheritance of property and/or titles. A matriline is                                      a line of descent from a common female ancestor to a descendant of either *** in which the individuals in all intervening                           generations are mothers – in other words, a "mother line". In matrilineal descent,                           individuals belong to the same group as their mother.                                                      The matriline of historical nobility was also called the _enatic_ or     _Uterine_ ancestry; From Middle English wombe, wambe, from Old English womb, wamb (“belly, stomach; bowels; heart; womb; hollow”), from Proto-Germanic *wambō (“belly, stomach, abdomen”), from Proto-Indo-European *wamp- (“membrane (of bowels), intestines, womb”). Cognate with Scots wam, wame (“womb”), Dutch wam (“dewlap of beef; belly of a fish”), German Wamme, Wampe (“paunch, belly”), Danish vom (“belly, paunch, rumen”), Swedish våmb (“belly, stomach, rumen”), Norwegian vomb (“belly”), Icelandic vömb (“belly, abdomen, stomach”),              Old Welsh gumbelauc (“womb”), Breton gwamm (“woman, wife”), Sanskrit वपा (vapā́, “the skin or membrane lining the intestines or parts of the viscera, the caul or omentum”).
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Aug 22, 2018
Aug 22, 2018 at 10:37 PM UTC
Matrilineality [for Uterinism]
Matrilineality is the tracing of descent through the female line corresponding to a societal system in which each person is identified with their matriline;              – their _mother's_ image – and which can involve the inheritance of property and/or titles. A matriline is                                      a line of descent from a common female ancestor to a descendant of either *** in which the individuals in all intervening                           generations are mothers – in other words, a "mother line". In matrilineal descent,                           individuals belong to the same group as their mother.                                                      The matriline of historical nobility was also called the _enatic_ or     _Uterine_ ancestry; From Middle English wombe, wambe, from Old English womb, wamb (“belly, stomach; bowels; heart; womb; hollow”), from Proto-Germanic *wambō (“belly, stomach, abdomen”), from Proto-Indo-European *wamp- (“membrane (of bowels), intestines, womb”). Cognate with Scots wam, wame (“womb”), Dutch wam (“dewlap of beef; belly of a fish”), German Wamme, Wampe (“paunch, belly”), Danish vom (“belly, paunch, rumen”), Swedish våmb (“belly, stomach, rumen”), Norwegian vomb (“belly”), Icelandic vömb (“belly, abdomen, stomach”),              Old Welsh gumbelauc (“womb”), Breton gwamm (“woman, wife”), Sanskrit वपा (vapā́, “the skin or membrane lining the intestines or parts of the viscera, the caul or omentum”).
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