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Shofi Ahmed Mar 2018
The body is for life but only to die
then there is an exception not all is linear
there is a feminine rose after the death
for her no more death on Earth!
She was there before the first matter
it was in the making before her eyes.
The first and foremost luminary feminine
moved on heartily panning flawless flow
aligning into the finest angle of the first matter.
Across the nadir to the zenith
Fathima eyes on upon it as it comes to be
shaping and forming art of miracle:
One true masterpiece without a mirror!

Arts on the go Fathima moves on
praise be to the Lord she being made to measure
mathematically perfect by birth the pi is her!
(The pi tends to circle the blank space within is feminine
while the circumference of the circle is masculine)
She can budge equally in the shadow
in patternless pi decimals and in the open,
in integer and into a whole full number!

Hops up her first step she looks for ‘the all’
the complete whole the absolute one Allah.
Time and again she steps up but finds no floor
her measured step by default lays on 360-degree circles
and scans everything at the first go still finds no bottom!

The first luminary masculine peace be upon him
first looks in the open she takes the veiled angle.
Through the evermore pi decimal micro-hole
she looks on and witnesses the first matter a water drop
surfaces up without a base without a roof on top!
It follows through truly the copy of the original
softly springing around the serene water paints  
of all the maters to be created from this first drop.
Fathima looks at it and veils withdraws her reflection.
Little chip bottomless deep into the finest nature
Fathima instills countless Boolean gates making
access to her beyond digital and AI and conditional.

The sky hasn't yet forgot that follows suit
first, a star was born stepping in Fathima’s shoe.
It tried so did the full set of the galaxy only to disperse
into a profound constellation never finds the bottom.
Amidst this water circle floats the first soil
Allah called it His house that He first created from it.
Every planetary orb pilgrimage around it in the core
named the Ka’abah up to the heart of the earth it rose.

In the pre-designed world following the first masculine
Fathima the first feminine pilgrimaged around it
not in the open but strictly in the patternless pi veil.

Nature is never uneven on the hand of the uneven pi
every little fraction a small decimal counts connects to the dot showing and without showing a pattern
long live, long live the digital charisma is on the rise!

The sun rises and retraces back in the middle lane,
the black box scores at the end of the day it's only a dark chart!
The Moon is yet to moon over an unturned sublunary-dip
It pulls all, the mighty sea that the earth can't
and syncs into the feminine water cycle but save only one
with Fathima floating out of the box it can’t link up!

Like millions, ever wonder where Fathima’s grave is?
The earth strived too to the death bite to print her footprint!
Most of the mass visiting Medina look too see the grave of the holy lady Fathima. It has been a tradition since her death some fourteen hundred years ago. There are two graves where she is buried but which one is her is still unknown. Reportedly she wanted her grave to remain unidentified.
PoserPersona Aug 2018
The concrete drum
beats two steps;
their sound signals
dear freedom

The cricket hum
drowns the day
and instills a
tranquil numb

The bare breeze
strums leaves and all
and breaks the heat
in welcome

The tonic sum
a blessed song;
allowing one
to triumph
~~
The soft chill winds
a cloudy day
ah! what a feeling!
drifting with the streams
how the life instills!

Waves of song coming from the distant
white Storks flying as the fall guy  
how the dreams come and go
between you and me
between the land and sea

In the sky rafts of white clouds
crafts the arrival of autumn
assuming the flame of Love
what a beautiful play!
what a fairs of tune!
~~
###
An Autumn Song
##
Juneau Dec 2014
remember to always follow your dreams.
starting this conditioning early instills the message so deep
that you're never quite aware, that in order to follow
your dreams you must first remain asleep
this is how they've created generation after generation
of obedient, self absorbed, consumerist sheep
where nothing is more precious to yourself then
the possessions that we keep
conforming to what's cool
owning the newest technology
and never looking cheap
join the hottest trends, stay in the loop
you're rising high on the social ladder
a fall from here is awfully steep
the fear of this fall turns you into a materialistic creep

these social constructs we all need to together break
or no one in our western society will ever truly be awake
December 8, 2014

thirty-nine
Jermon Oct 2018
Muslims,
Sisters, Brothers,
We are a very lucky Ummah
Because we live in the age of scientific discoveries
Which are our proving our Sunnah
Right

We already had every reason to believe
And follow the Sunnah
But yet for us
Our beliefs aren't strong enough

Allah is kind
These scientific discoveries
Give us deeper reasons to follow the Sunnah
It instills in us deep rooted Iman
Because all of it
All of it
Is right!

Our ancestors that chose to believe Allah
Were lucky
They benefitted from the Sunnah
That they didn't even know was doing them physical goodness
For the past 1400 years!!!
They knew of the rewards
But not beyond that

The rewards!
Allah promised rewards if we'd do something that was beneficial for ourselves!
Who else does that?

Who else pays you for eating that magnificent lunch THEY made?
All you gotta do
Is stretch your hand out
And take it

The Scientifically proven Sunnahs
You can call them now
Are a chance for us
To strengthen our Iman
And along with it,
Make our lives the BEST

So Sisters, Brothers
We are a lucky Ummah
But we need to beware of ignorance
That can lead us astray
15.10.2018

Our Ummah -
The community that exists during the time when the message of Muhammad (PBUH) is known. Which is all of us from the time Muhammad (PBUH) received the first verses of the Qur'an. Read.

But I'm referring to the part of the Ummah that is us in the 21st century right now.

Sunnah -
The way of Islam. The things we have been recommended to do.

Iman -
Faith. Belief. Which is a must if you're Muslim. Faith in the things that Islam has guided us to and said we must have faith in. Without belief we cannot have firm ground or reason for whatever we are doing.
Ember Evanescent Oct 2014
She’s the type of scary that isn’t in horror movies or Halloween decorations, not the kind that makes you scream or want to run away but the silent sort that paralyzes you and makes you wish you had never, not just lived, but existed at all after witnessing that type of darkness. The kind that instills mind shattering dread in your soul and the desire to simply crumble inwards totally destroyed in a pile of dust so you may never feel again because nothing will ever fix what you saw and felt. The kind of scary that makes you properly comprehend the word’s meaning. I would be wrong, however, if I were to tell you she is the worst kind of scary because the word “worst” means it’s the furthest on the scale and this terror is not on the same scale as any other sort of scary. This broke the scale. This is beyond. This is its own kind of scary. On its own level, in its own dimension, under its own category,
this


....is true scary....

Please comment I'd love to hear any thoughts! This is a description of a free verse poem describing one of the characters I created.
Please comment I'd love to hear any thoughts! This is a description of a free verse poem describing one of the characters I created.
Larry dillon May 2023
All the pain a man could muster in his lifetime:
Compressed to a minute.
Then, send it scattershot through the airwaves.
A morose melody. A lovely female voice inflects....
"May I override your rationality and reason?"
Imprints a depression on the mind;
a rope around the deckhand's neck.
Does her voice now command your neocortex?
Yes, but deeper still: it denigrates.
Instills an insistence toward apathy:
existential treason.
musical notes denote a debt to be paid.
They accept just the one currency.
Trade melancholic fervor for nihility...
A payment must be made.
Posit the ship is a sojourn in deep water.
Feeling A sorrow you can't adjourn.
How quickly you will learn:
Jumping overboard
CAN be an act of kindness.
A slave to that recalcitrant sorrow.
Jetsam yourself to lighten the load on your psyche:
It's ideal over facing another tommorow.

Seafaring folk
assume a siren's song is beautiful.

I felt The Earth shake when she sung.
There goes the air from my lungs.
What more to give? Here.
Borrow my body and tongue.
Sitting in the auditorium
of my own soliloquy.
This state of mind is anti-reverie.
Your falsetto sonnet showed memories.
My family.My mishaps.
An altercation out of ennui-with my father.
Before he left,that last thing he said to me...

But.

Why WAS he levied into conflict
over Antioch?
On a whim prescribed, of course;
The pope demanded A crusade on sin.
Father died inside the walls of Jerusalem.
Bled out fighting alongside other mortal men:
Father, is your heaven more beautiful,
than your grand daughter's grin?

Captain has seven sailors hold me still.
I am suppressed inside the fo'c'sle.
He counts down from sixty:
"Let us see if time sets him straight."
A siren's enthrall doesn't agitate long.
Yet,
Even after the weight of it lifting,
it leaves you forlong.
Sometimes-I still feel-
underwater...is that where I truly belong?

Seafaring folk
assume a siren's song is beautiful.
                          I know better.

A violent storm materializes from otherwise
sunny, fair weather.
I guess the myths of the Tempest here are true:
It attacks ships sailing near the fabled
isle Revenir.
Until then,for my own safety,
I had been enroute to the brig.
"All hands on deck
(including me and my captors)
Secure those loose rigs.
Batten down the hatch.
Cap'n is going to steer us-
Right through this Tempest's heart!!"
Steady now.
Or his hubris will tear the ship apart.

I felt indifferent as waves
pummel us relentlessly.
Contrite as our vessel
won its war with the sea.

                   I jump overboard.

Instant remorse.
Father, can your God please alter my course?
A mistake.
This can't be my legacy.
I'm sinking.
Because of what a siren sung.
I can't breathe. Feel water filling in my lungs.
Siren,take what you won
then leave me undone.
I'm sinking.
Is this how I meet my end?
Shimmer from the sunlight fades
as I descend.
Sinking.
And I'll never be found...
My fear, my flailing. My failure to float.
the ocean swallows it all,
ingurgitates my hope.
Is this how you felt?
Facing your ill-fated destiny?
Father.
You always tried-and failed -to quell my misery.
That last thing you said...
Preaching your god's salvation as remedy.

                        I'm sinking.

All along its been my sorrow
that's drowning me.

-
A story of a sailor's mind being taken by a siren's call and how it exacerbates his already present, internal, buried grief.

Part 1 in the Revenir series.
xpzlol Sep 2018
i bear the cross of faith
tied down to the angels of
Heaven.
He listens to my praises
like the whisper of windchimes.
a tickling of silver tongues.

in the trying times
He burns in my head
a fireball of glory
a lavish thought in my brain.
He instills fear
He instills pride.

we read the words from His Grace
memorising the holy scripture
pretending like we understand Him
pretending like He
understands us.
the loss of faith is lost upon all.

and so as i sing these monotonous
phrases of glory
inside the church of alabaster
i ask of Him a delirious question
and he would answer deliriously.
a consciousness of oneself.

and as i feel my feet on the floor
the gold tiles freezing my soles
i bring into His Grace
a sinner
i ask myself
i reside in a golden cathedral.

i bear the cross of faith
Wendell A Brown Oct 2015
What happens as love finds new life
Within ones heart in a genuine way
When a beautiful treasure blossoms
One which takes inner breath away

What happens when life given words
Refreshes a heart and deeply instills
The blessing of a Loves sweet reality
Whose spiritual touch is always real

What happens as moments are shared
When spoken words bring one to pray
Leaving such a spiritual loveliness
Which in a heart will forever stay

What happens as sweet joy comes alive
Making one to feel they are never alone
When in their heart and spirit is found
Seeds of a precious love finding a home

There is a genuine selfless love existing
When shared it continues to blossom more
Especially when it's bliss is heaven-sent
We find each day it refuses to be ignored

For my heart listens to Your smiles voice
Each morning Lord as Your love awakens me
Embracing me with Your precious happiness
As I praise You for the gift I received.
A psalm of love written to honor God!
Heavy Hearted Apr 2017
When I sleep dreams please take head
I’m not accustomed to this speed
spliced with music art and ****
this rhyme a warning and a plead:
Many men look back at me
their eyes memorize silently
I trade in who I used to be
degenerating empathy.
Friends no more are there as well
waving constantly farewell
who they are now I can’t tell
heavy water stains still dwell.
Though no longer what you were
your name a prayer spoken unsure
Instills the fact there is no cure
clear direction- violent blur;
I am a man and I’m a boy
both utensil and a toy
immoral morals, high decoy
let flirt with death, young cold and coy..
So please I beg you, dreams of pain
let sleep consume me, peace sustain
let night air fill my broken brain
through the wind myself retrain
        Let me wade in water deep,
    let my faith forwardly leap
worry sow and disdaine reap

Troubled Poppies for Endless Sleep.
ToT Sep 1
Whoever thought we’d say goodbye so early
To a woman that meant so much to so many
You’ve left behind hidden gems in us all
Especially the one that no matter what, we better stand strong and tall
But even in this unfortunate absence
She still instills
The ability to survive in the world
Some of us even picked up that amazing cooking gift you have
The ability to love tough when needed
And the high pedestal on how we should be treated
On how to be frugal and 100% independent
From start to finish, she was committed
This was a major loss for us ShotGun
But the many gems you instilled will forever stand
The most beautiful of them all, you’re now in the right hands amongst them all.
We Love You
Anonymous Sep 2012
The clock ticks away
the silence pounds you
it's not the peaceful quiet of life
one would wish for
it's the hostile silence
that makes your heart hammer
one that pushes you to speak
but holds back your voice in your throat.
It makes you wallow in memories
memories of things gone wrong
memories of having been wronged
it compells you to reminisce
all your regrets in life.
It instills fear in you
fear of people, of being cheated
fear of being different, of not being accepted
the fear of becoming a castaway.
It teaches you
teaches you not to trust people
teaches you
to keep your secrets locked away
in a distant, dark chamber of your heart
teaches you
to keep your feelings bottled up inside you.
Before you know it
it turns you into a paranoid misanthrope
it's cruel, it knows no love
it knows no friendship
it eats you from within
it destroys you.
This does not dawn upon you
soon enough
by the time you have realised it
it has already done its job
hardly have you got any time left
to set things right
you want to say
you need to say
things you should have said long ago
all the love not spoken of
yearns to be expressed now
you cling onto each moment
time does not pity you
it pays no heed to your pleas
each second slips by
like water in cupped hands
like the sand in an hourglass.
The silence still keeps pounding you
the clock still keeps ticking away.
Kenneth Gray Dec 2020
My love, you see makes my heart sing
With musical notes it composes
Cause you do play on my hearts strings
My masterpiece laid before you
upon a bed of roses

I won't waste my precious time
& dance around the truth
For a symphony plays its song in me
And your beauty is my fountain of youth
My wife, you see - I hope you to be
My wife, you see - how lovely

My song, you see? Will never cease
It'll play throughout eternity
For the instruments that lay inside
Will never stop, nor ever die
For the beauty I see, instills in me
An everlasting energy
So hearken unto me, my sweet baby
Cause I'll never leave nor say goodbye

My song, you see? Makes my heart ring
Adoration does your heart bring
My masterpiece that will never cease
Is finally composed
I hope, my dear, that our union is near
& I'll become your king
My wife, you see? I hope you to be
Say yes to me, when I final-ly propose

Now we're here right at the end, my dear
A musical crescendo
As it plays, I do hope you say
That you truly love me and that you'll always stay
This song I feel, is very real
And its not an innuendo
Now on my knee, as you can see
Will you marry me? I plead and pray

Marry me, my wife to be, and let our duet play
Forever and ever entwined together
Mr. and Mrs. Gray
I wanted to write about love in a positive light. All my past poems about love have been dark and negative. So I wanted to change it up. Then I made the connection between love and music and then ran with it. The beat came to me as I was thinking and writing. Hope you all enjoy!
Paul Morgana Jan 2013
Humans think they can move nature aside,
The earth laughs, it mostly will hide,

From people, pollution, and the mess we make,
Every now and then, nature's wrath we must take.

The wrath I speak of, comes in many forms,
A powerful hurricane, run fast from the storms.

A foot of water, the storm may send,
Fences and houses, you may need to mend.

Sandy's her name, just visited New York,
The day after, everyone's eating salted pork.

She flooded the streets, and turned out the light,
Happy she's gone, we bow to her might.  

Speaking of storms, here's one that instills,
Fear of death, down your spine feel the chills.

Look here it comes, from over the hills,
A tornado, is swirling, better make out your wills.

Destroys anything placed in its path,
Nature is laughing, now feel her wrath!

Many other disasters are waiting for men,
Happening all of the time, we know not when.

Look at its flash, a brilliant light,
A billion tons of earth, taking flight.

Heat that will turn, your body to dust,
Before you die, to see one a must.

Can you guess of the forces, to which I speak?
An A bomb? Next to this, an A bomb is weak!

A volcanic eruption, its power has might,
The sound of explosion, causes many a fright.

Boiling lava runs down the side,
Don't get in its way, nowhere to hide.

St. Helens erupted, many years ago,
Thought she was dormant, then decided to blow,

The billions of tons of volcanic ash,
Covered 2 states, car washes made cash.

Missing people are listed, in Washington State,
No bodies to find, disintegration was their fate.

To close to Mt. Helens, during her blast,
All families have now, is the memories of the past.

These are just but a few, of nature's way,
To show all you people, who's the master today,

And tomorrow as well, never shares the spot light,
Nature's in charge, her power burns bright.  

When the awesome power of the planet is displayed.
Hope today she is quiet, and catastrophe delayed.

Visit poemsbypaul.com
.

Z - A

Zonked Yanks eXport Weird Views Underpinning Terrorist Suspects, Risking Quiet Proliferation Of Nuclear Missiles, Leaving Killer Jihads In Hostile Groups. Forgetting Europe, Death Claims Babylon: America.

Zero Yields X’s Without Value. Useless Technical Solutions Regarding Quanta, Plainly Outside Newtonian Mathematics. Logic Keeps Jokers In Hearty Guffaws  Forever.  Eternity Derides Computation By Algebra.

Zap! Your X-ray Was Very Useful Tool. Sarcomas’ Revealed, Quality Prognosis On Masse. Later Knowledge Jibes; Increased Hidden Growths Frequently Entailing Death Couldn’t Be Anticipated.



A – Z

Away Bright Cinder, Drift Eternally, Fly! Glow! Heat Incandescent! Jeweled Key, Luminous Molten Nuclei, Ornate Precious Quotient, Radiant Shining Teardrop. Unknowable Volcanic Whisper, eXact, Yield: Zero.

Awful Blues, Crazy Dreams, Every Fleeting Ghastly Horrible Idea Jars, Killing Love. Murderous Omens, Portending Quiescence, Reduce Sleep To Uniform Vacant Wastelands, eXiled Yearning Zenith.

Acting Behind Closed Doors, Every Famous General Has Insight: Jabbering Khaki Liveried Majors Narrate Orders, Pursuing Quarries, Retelling Strategic Theories. Up Valiant Warriors, Cross Your Zone!

A Bitter Child Denies Every Friendship Going. Hate Instills Jealousies Knife. Lies Mean Nothing. Other People Question Reality. Sic Transit Umbra, Vile World. eXcise Your Zest.

Albert Ball’s Camel Dived Effortlessly, Flaming Guns Hammered Into Junkers. Keeping Level Meant Not One Pilot Questioned Richthofens’ Stall Turn, Underpinning Victory With X-elerating Yawing Zoom…

Although Boy’s Charm Doesn’t Explicitly Frighten Girls, Her Instincts Jostle, Knowing Laughter Masks Nights Ordained Paths. Quiet! Reason Sleeps Tonight, Unmasked Votive Wanderings eXpose Y-Fronted Zygotes!



r10.6.1
One of my earliest 'concept' poems that actually worked out. Boy was I smug when I started pulling these bad-boys out of the ether; they’re so utterly…automatic: an allusion to my pretensions in writing Systems Poetry. There are loads of these that simply don’t work, and the 'X's' are a problem, but at their best they have an impact and effect quite different to poetry using a similar but undirected structure! This concept led directly to another poem: ‘Ab Imo Pectore’, which uses the same technique, but on lines rather than words, and in Latin, rather than English… told you I was a smug so-and-so!
Cedric McClester Apr 2015
By: Cedric McClester

They say he loves music
And he probably does
But his true motivation
Remains as it was
How many under him
Went down the wrong path
Have you stopped to think about it
Or done the math

It’s not that he’s evil
Just insidious
He’s a music game genius
Who instills their trust
Though most of his artists
Eventually go bust
After he has benefited
As always he must

It has to be understood
That it’s an ugly game
That you enter one way
But don’t leave the same
Put it on who you want
But you share the blame

Artist get wrapped up
In their artistry
And fail to look out for
What they cannot see
There’s pain in all parts
Of this industry
Words of experience
Take it from me

It has to be understood
That it’s an ugly game
That you enter one way
But don’t leave the same
Put it on who you want
But you share in the blame

They’re commodities
That are bought and sold
That’s how it is played
And the game’s very old
Some will burn hot
Before they turn cold
And there’s no more to gain
After they’ve mined the gold

It has to be understood
That it’s an ugly game
That you enter one way
But don’t leave the same
Put it on who you want
But you share in the blame

It’s not that he’s evil
Just insidious
He’s a music game genius
Who instills their trust
Though most of his artists
Eventually go bust
After he has benefited
As always he must

It’s not that he’s evil
Just insidious
He’s a music game genius
Who instills their trust
Though most of his artists
Eventually go bust
After he has benefited
As always he must




(c) Copyright 2015, Cedric McClester.  All rights reserved.
An Ugly Game was inspired by the music industry, such as it is.
preservationman May 2016
The Lord has smiled on your years
It was the Holy Spirit that continues to help you preserver
As God is always near
There were times you said enough is enough
But Mother ***, the Lord responded, I have added more years to your life
You have earned the years well
Your every footstep of pure confidence, everyone can tell
This Birthday wish is to motivate you to carry on
The idea is to remain strong
You have given me plenty of advice
As your Nephew, I never had to think twice
Your encouragement was like the fragrance of spice
I love you Dearly Aunt Margaret
But it is your humor accompanied with your Faith that truly instills in me
Your personality is the spread of salvation
It’s not a wonder, but an indication
Happy Birthday Aunt Margaret and long may you live
Continue the inspiration and smile that you give
You live your life to strive
Yet your wisdom surpasses even the number five
You are an Aunt of no nonsense and jive
An Aunt aiming for Heaven’s glory
Enough said, as this is your Nephew’s story
That’s my Aunt Margaret, a Mother and Grandmother to some, but an Aunt who will always be number one.
RyanMJenkins Dec 2013
Because of that moment, you were led here,
If that had not happened, this wouldn't be
Everything happens, making other things clear
Just never woulda guessed that you'd be so important to me

Simple little actions, fingertip movements, linked us into conversation
An open bridge was built that night for our souls to travel across freely
Emotionally jumped into each others' soulful arms, without hesitation
Each message read was like a piece of our heart that we were inadvertently stealing

Every time your face popped up on my screen,
My heart would nearly skip a beat
Right now, many miles lay inbetween
But in roughly two weeks our bodies will finally meet.

Already in you I've let myself be vulnerable,  comfortably
The pictures we paint with words depict something I can really see
I feel each slightest touch as if you were here enveloped in me, effortlessly
We've already raised each others' spirits and expanded frequencies
I think about you being here, or me there, frequently.
Thinking of hugging you instills a kind of peace in me,
Call it tranquility...simple pleasantries.. call it anything..

~So long as it involves love~

You say I've done so much for you
But words are never enough.
Just symbols, to represent, stuff
Independent to the perspective

I just hope I symbolized meaning that was effective

How much I care.. I really meant it
Because if I didn't mean the content, I wouldn't have sent it

Hearts on the sleeves with arms extended
For any wound in your soul I wanna mend it.
Anything on your mind you can come to me and vent it.
I at least have a little bit of time left, I wanna come to you and spend it.
We're gonna have to take advantage of time spent, so to not regret it
Already deep within me you are embedded,
Talked so much in a short period, just know everything was true when I said it

Just as it is in the current, riding waves of light that'll promise us at least one night.

Frigid, snowy weather,
yet warm together~

It's our endeavor to better ourselves,
And I'll always be there for you when you need help.
I tend to move in stealth, but I make myself known.
My daydreams, embraced by you feels so at home.
If you're ever down, feeling alone
I'm here, pick up the phone, no matter the time zone
I'll send my electrified vibes flying through the air faster than a drone

Love,
some say it's tossed around too much,
But I say too little
They put rules and complications on it,
trying to find an answer to the riddle
I told you I could say it to strangers
But it's hard, romantically speaking,
as if there's impending danger.
But if the feeling's true we shouldn't waiver
For there's no guaranteeing there'll be a later

Even though right now I'm feeling blue,
I have nothing but love for you,
You make me think of brighter colors
Meshing energies like long lost lovers

<3
Mariah Fairre Oct 2012
It is she who steals into the sunless day
Bringing with her the warmth and color that cannot not survive in the shadowy black of night

Night that brings the heavy veil of weightless ink that covers all with beauty
Night that instills passion and fear and mystery and desire
Night of unspoken stories hanging on chilled breath
Night of floating dreamless sleep
Night of blended coal-black sea and diamond sky
Night of sliver sparkling moonlight, shining through the sweet-dewed mist
Night that finds her, the lonely wander,
Drinking in the silence and depth of night.
Warren-Johnson May 2017
Mom
Her heart beats true to all her existence!
She is love itself!
It is real and has sheer persistence!
She'd walk her feet raw if that's what it took!

She instills her values true to her core!
Always kind!
Even when the rod were to make my backside sore!
Always listening!
Even when time is little, she is there!
Always caring!
A heart so strong, but always love to give no matter where!
A mentor!
If advice be sought, she'd be my choice!
A Mom
There to make affect, with the kindest of voice!

My solace
My matriarch

MY MOM
Ashley Williams Jan 2015
Crashing--
Burning--
The ache of a new-found divinity
Instills my soul with a
Fire

Extinguished;
Another fire-longing is born,
Birthed as a
Phoenix
Rising from the
Ashes.
Anita Croke Aug 2015
The screaming of the drill,
The panic it instills.
The dreaded putty mould,
"Mouth open, can you hold?"
The pain of the lock jaw,
My arm off, I'd rather saw!
And though I will be Crowned,
A Queen will not be found!
Joseph Childress Nov 2010
Nyx
Dark sheets
Of night
Cover the sky
Preparing
The world for sleep
Pray
On the lord our souls to keep
Prey
On the lower, sold the sheep
To beasts
Lost shepherd
Of the weak
Heard the herd
Is preferred rare
We’re a rarity
In despair
The air answers all my prayers

Silently
Whispers to me

.just, don‘t fall asleep.

It always speaks
Quietly
Morse code
Cold remorse
It wont ****
But instead instills
A breeze that peaks
Over the window sill
I stand still
Feel the chills
It fills the ceil
Creates a seal…
The wind stays
To make me stay
Awake

It captured fate
Encapsulates
Then decapitates
What’s ahead
The future… evaporates
I gave away
Tomorrow’s day
Just to stay
Up

I Reached the skies
Left the life
And can’t relearn
How to return

To sleep…
In Greek mythology, Nyx was the primordial goddess of the night. A shadowy figure, Nyx stood at or near the beginning of creation, and was the mother of personified gods such as Hypnos (sleep) and Thánatos (death).
Hashim ZK Jan 2014
Dawn breaks as the sun appears over the horizon, swallowing the darkness of an insatiable night.

A fresh breeze ruffles the hair, and the heart, with a peculiar spell as the sounds of rattling trees settles in.

The stains of tears are replaced by the shine of joy, as the sorrows of night dissolves in the mist of a promising dawn.

A sight of a dew shining on a flower, like a beautiful Pearl, instills something pleasant inside..

As the eyes travel further, they're pleasantly surprised by the bed of flowers; the spread of meadows; the colorful birds.. Chirping.. Flying.. Playing.. Nothing to bind them. Free spirits.
A heart envies them for a while.

And when looking upon the vast sky - the sheer vastness of it, leaves one enthralled.
Upon closing the eyes, one could hear the silent whisper of the clouds, of the trees, carried by the passing winds. A strange sense of belonging settles in. Leaving one calm. Inspired.

Perhaps, the birds have felt it too. One wonders.

A mind then engages into a divine contemplation, as the mystery unfolds.. Feeding on the pleasure of unravelling dreams.
A sheer bliss.


PS: Just another perfect dream of a blessed moment.

Hashim.
Graff1980 Mar 2016
I leave them behind, staring straight ahead despite their pleas. The starry night beckons me. It promises to set me free, so I leave. Cries of anguish echo in the nether realms, part past part hell, where the darkness instills itself.
Nighttime brings terrible dreams, but daylight is where true nightmares come from. My boots disturb the grey cement kicking up clouds of dust. Smoke obscures the empty spaces where ****** faces once laid. Scarred flesh painted red with life’s fluid.  Blood oozes and drips down the now cooling skin, then flows forming a small red river with tiny tributaries. All this is captured in a greyscale distortion.
I missed the moments of violent percussions. The sounds of man-made thunder crashing and smashing everything in sight. I was only here for the aftermath. Still, that is enough. Dark blue body bags hold the terror of two twins decimated. Gaping wounds appear as if something had been chewing itself free from their stomachs. Normal skin rolls into mangled and exposed muscle then becomes bone. What a sick alchemy of flesh.
Their faces follow the same empty stare. They almost look alive. Eyes open in accusation, pointing in a parallel direction. I can feel the full force of their claims as they silently scream “Why.”
I cry, but my tears come just upon the edge of numbness.  Anger, and sorrow so extreme that my mind cannot handle it. I disappear, pretending that these are merely photos. I immerse myself in the delusion that this is a thing of the past. I am not here. They are not there. With a digital click, the camera becomes my emotional filter.
I stumble, a step away from losing what is left of my sanity, then cross the threshold in reverse, till I am outside. A small woman cradles something in her arms. It is a charcoal baby doll. Tears streaming the woman screams, holding that incinerated thing, but it’s just a doll. Black flakes fall, baby doll’s clothing turns to dust. I cough it in and out choking on the musk. I am grateful that it is just a broken doll.
I feel fear bringing me to edge of insanity. Her screaming seems strange. Her eyes look deranged. The doll’s legs have little calcium protrusions. Do burnt bones blacken? It’s just a doll. Scorched porcelain doesn’t look like skin, but it’s just a doll. Please let it be just a doll.
I pull myself from the situation. Detach what is left of my impartiality from my sanity. This is just a picture. This is just a job. Auto pilot takes over as I keep clicking photos, leaving any sense of self in the past.
Axion Prelude Jun 2014
you
Hearts ecstatic
kindred spirits
thoughts elope

seas wash over like a blanket
warm and quiet words
silent hope

whispers of desire
mired with complexity
patience begetting tranquility

kindness derides fear
stifled anxious inquiry
fate sings eloquently

hand in hand with time defeated
smile to smile the gaze instills
the sun still rises even so

a kiss remembered
our time together
never once forgotten

beauty therein held deep
truly remarkable and unique
my eyes upon you effortlessly
happiness just in knowing

you
Chuck Feb 2013
Do not dissimulate from life
Lethargy instills apathy
Droning everything bores you
Nothing gets your blood boiling

Truth evades your gray cornea
Your persistence is persuasive
Petite energy emitted
Exhausted to convince numbness

You are the youth, the world’s future
Dissimulation not an option
Wave the white flag. We’ll still wage war
Never will you conquer concern

My comrades in texts and I’ll fight
To give hope, future, and success
Or we will perish in battle
Content knowing we truly cared

PLEASE CARE ABOUT YOURSELF!
Prepared to ridicule himself, this fool
Is guarded against the jibes
Of those he thinks less inclined to self-criticism.
How then is he to gauge his faults
And turn them into something worthwhile?

How can he define his foolishness
If uncertain as to the extent of his limitations?
How can he begin to accept the advice of others -
'Go jump! ' 'Take a good hard look at yourself! ' 'Grow up! ' -
If he isn't prepared to be objective?

Unprepared to accept objectivity as objective
'I know what I know', he spouts
Ill-mannered, inconsiderate and obstinate.
How is he to assume the more demanding role
Of the one being spoken to?

No words, it seems,
Can convince him of his stupidity.
No words, that is,
Except his own.
Um.... ah.... um.... a poem takes form.

Ironically, loneliness is his theme
Nothing else can say what he wants to say.
Happiest is he, when miserable
Exposing his misery for all the world to see.
No one, it seems, is quite as miserable as he.

He takes care not to say too much
In case,
To make his point
He admits (in the mode of a tragic figure)
That there is nothing to say.

Logically, 'there is nothing to say' explains
His actions
Although failing to describe
What bothers him.
It seems that that can only be other people.

In them, real feelings express themselves
And a challenge presents itself for him to understand them
No matter
It is they not understanding him
That concerns me.

As querulous as it may sound
It is their obsession with 'reality'
That he objects to.
No amount of persuasion can convince them
That his feelings are real.

'Such as absurd notion demands an explanation'
He hears them say, but he is only prepared
To go on dreaming -
Observing others observing him
Observing them.

His sincerity
Isn't expressed in conventional terms.
Unbeknownst to them, he cares
And unknowingly they add to his suffering
As they refuse to acknowledge his feelings.

His suffering -
A product of a trivial pursuit
For universal meanings -
Is compounded by those who think him
Lacking.

*

Lacking in those human qualities
He most desires
He turns to someone, who,
Without her knowing,
Possesses them for him.

Kindly, she admits him -
Herself lacking the assurance
To comprehend the extent of his need.
She feels for him
As one would a child, an innocent, a poet.

His feelings exist in her eyes,
And his failings form
His 'uniqueness' -
A reason
For loving him.

Sufficent reason, in itself,
For him to love her.
Nevertheless he feels
An even greater need
To justify his feelings.

Their differences,
His reliance on her
And, equally,
Hers on him
Need explaining.

As others see it
Their differences contain the germs of disunity,
And in their interdependence, signs of submission.
Again they see things in 'real terms'
Neglecting to take into account the power of the imagination.

She isn't what she appears to be
Her beauty transcends experience
With all pain absorbed in her -
He shares in her happiness
And is privy to her sensitivity.

She instills in him a new faith,
Another reason to write -
A belief in humanity.
This is what he must explain
To those who think him foolish.

But he remains aloof
Barred by a certain quirk in his character -
Whenever he tries to be serious
He gives the impression
Of being insincere.

When he tries to explain his feelings
It's as if he is the one
Who needs to be convinced -
His new found faith seems void
Without someone else to believe it.

Yet people want to listen
And give him the chance he's been looking for -
The chance to prove himself to them.
They're not heartless,
And would rather not judge anyone unfairly.

The truth is, however,
That he is such a fool
That he needs to hear his own words
From someone else's mouth
Before he can believe them.
Nico Allentine Aug 2015
You love the look, the electricity, desire my lightning
But you hate the thunder
I'll admit it can be frightening
When my mind burst asunder
Heart chakra tightening
You are the sun and i am the storm
But we need each other and you keep me warm
I told you I'd have you, running for the hills
The pain i would cause, along with the thrills
I'm an *******, completely undeserving
Unstable eccentric unpredictable swerving
Astounded that you will even have me in your presence
Like water for my soul, drown me in your essence
Your magic instills such a skillful resistance
To all of my depression and its relentless persistence
Quiet my heart, heavy and abrasive pounds
I just want to listen to music with you revel in the strange sounds
You help me walk in a world i forgot i could
Challenge what i do and remind me what i should
My sun in the sky my shaman, who re-introduced myself to me
My light tower in the distance when I'm lost at sea
Ill be yours if you'll be mine
Souls enmesh, utterly divine
Im needy attached possessive and insane
But i swear the love i can give is worth the pain
Ignatius Hosiana Jan 2016
Maybe this is our opportunity to finally see change
we've endured a system archaic and strange
we've watched the world revolve quicker than us
because we are stranded while the rest shift on the wheels of revolution
maybe this is the time you made that resolution
to constantly remind your brother and sister
Father and mother that that position needs a new sitter
maybe this is the time to say enough is enough
however much it instills in you fear, however tough
maybe it's the time we finally say to hell with the past
because like they say to stone nothing is cast
and the only thing that doesn't change is change itself
otherwise for how long will one old man exploit our insecurities?
For how long are they going to tell us that change is unsafe
A different time a different king even the monarchs say
what are we saying in our deafening silence today?
maybe this is the time to tell even the most ignorant by the country mile
that only and only a different king will dry their tears and give them a smile
we've been told he's the only man with foresight
come on,how are we to judge the rest without chances
for so long change has been a distant vibration along the threads of time
and opposition to conservatism a crime
maybe it's time for that to change too
and guess who can do that, only me and you

maybe it's time to flip the page for this great country to start another chapter
And it doesn't have to be all smooth a flow to happily ever after
Let other dancers step to the podium
and only then can we judge their dances
maybe it's time to another hunter we handed the arrow and bow
maybe now is the time for a different color on the rainbow
It cannot forever be a constant yellow
for even God saw however beautiful they look
the skies shouldn't always bear a sparkling mellow
sometimes the sky is cloudy, orange and most times blue
maybe it's time like I clearly think from my own view
for as a generation we are being denied the opportunity of comparative history
what will we tell our children happened to democracy
where did we throw, they'll ask all the resilience and efficacy?
maybe it's time to get back our country from the liberators
who use the same cuffs of the past regimes to manacle this country
and have since grown tall and firmer than palm tree
we have watched them wallow and buzz for so long
but for an idea whose time has come nothing is that strong

maybe it's time to save the embezzled donations and every single grant
a time to say confidently "to Hell with the tyrant"
maybe it's a time to be the change we want, the answer to all of our questions
and shove those that think we can't
maybe it's time to go past the roughing waves of conservatism as they whirl
maybe it's time to save our lovely nation
for at the moment, in very wrong hands lies the Pearl.
My country has everything, but Democracy
And without real Democracy everything is nothing
Steve D'Beard Jul 2013
the oil of the high grade pollen
coated in sticky honey-like crystals
old school wrap and a vaporizer
instills calm where there had been chaos
oh how the mighty have fallen

offers to go places
live music in an alleyway bar
cocktails till dawn
a rave under a motorway
the Sub Club for legendary libation
and mingle with familiar hazy faces

and yet,
he warms to the four walls of home
the symmetrical wooden rail border
the OCD driven picture placement
the videos in genre specific
alphabetical order

outside the city streets throng
stag-hen crews in costume
tourists off the beaten path
seeking the Water of Life
students drinking the bank of mum and dad dry
mid-week workers letting of class A steam
that for some is clearly too strong

the hordes
of bar ******
pimping their Versace
and Primark combo
any Glasgow bar
where looks could ****

bar telepathy
means he no longer
even has to speak
just have the fiber
to clear the bill

This he calls home.
ArturVRivunov Oct 2011
Ciao to the world. . .my hand is free. . .
hope to penetrate all your misery. . .
stand on beside you feeling my glee. . .
what them can't I can't see, we both can just be. . .
Happy and free. . . .

Ciao to the world. . .where do you see?
Unspeakable motions relenting through notions. . .
That you are the world and I am the world. . .
Ride up beside planted come tree. . .
Choosing to sense, what life doesn't chance. . .
If was so easy to speak without kissing the *****. . .
Learning together, binded by teather on unspeacable measure. . . .

Ciao to the world. . .
What pleasure do feel?
Sensations at leasure, stranded by seasure.
What is so pure then to run with a cure, of being you just you, and I just me. . .
When it doesn't matter. . .
For we are and can be, and always I sensed that, friends with the power to smile on the world. . . .

Ciao to the world. . .
Do you smile on yourself?
Getting it clearer, this sense that's titer so nearer. . .
so great of a mystery as to what cost it in history. . .
What paused it about among,
domeneering a crowd. . .
that ****** on that history and made life this lost mystery. . .

Ciao to the world.. .
It's so great that I see you. . .
Peeling your skin to taste on your roots. . .
Feeling my life has strapped on its boots. . .
what is so moving,
Is something no one can keep you in life from disproving. . .
For this is the part that always puts on the spot,
what idea is given as the source of this proving?

Ciao to the world. . .
Why we need for such pusher, who can't but press on for the moocher?. . .
And feed to the world what we don't aspire,
some even becoming blind to how life truly feels.
Because of what shameful desire it instills. . .
so they take flight to the hills, running their bills,
killing the time without the conception that people of each one's own doesn't need redemption from such a parole. . .
Derived from an old point of a hunt for the dead sea scroll. . . .

Ciao to the world. . .
Where in these hills do we ever tumble under strains,
put down under mockingly with such assumptive pains?
Who in the **** disallows what we all grow so heartedly to cherish,
and then take on to fight against what we don't embellish?
For sake of each one our own, blown from where we inspire,
life is but for pleasure and desire, for, to in happiness respire.
There isn't but hell in this place, in which we feel to replace. . .
Bit by bit, but always making it harder for in this pace, it's such a miserable and unfortunate case. . .
Of greed in its haste, molding most souls into waste.

Ciao to the world. . .
Where in the hell did you go in this haste,
loosing the sense of what built you in the first place?
Not God, nor feeble men,
but love for certain aspirations of good to make this world an ease for many admirations.
For centuries to come, where we behold on in under one world of pleasant desire to fullfill all that we were fighting for,
mirror image of what freedom by hearts could implore.
Sincerely we never need be, for some it's just an ease,
to want always please into the self, stand on top of the shelf like a beaten up trophy headed for disastrous catastrophy.. . .

Ciao to the world. . .
I'm sit in Jardin du Luxembourg. . .Where life is full of smorgesbourg, all we are so different, relenting to one thing of beauty of the peace and quite that we want always beside, be.
How this little part of the world in larger then life city of Paris,
won't stand all around for a day say on the other side of the planet,
because some would want for it to be a glamour for riches drowned in their clamour.. . .

Ciao to the world. . .
I'm sit by a stranger. . .Do you think I feel danger?
Do you see what's even a mistake, life is something not quiet so fake, even when you give a chance to let one other have the better miser dance,
given the glance with such bitter pretense is worth even to chance?

Ciao to the world. . .
I'm gather on all of my new experience. . .Better perciever then most think im deceiver. . .
When who is better then being the deceiver?
Is one getting by, the best of the deceiver. . . .slaughtered at the mind by vivid perception,
because in all case life has taught nonsense ridden by selfish perception of ones own misdirection. ..

Ciao to the world. . .
I'm satisfied to be pleasant without the need for so much in life,
all but to gather on what life is so abundant,
all the smiling faces passing with haste paces, from so many different places. . . . .
Hal Loyd Denton Jan 2013
Picture perfect world your conception flows on the canvas the old fence post and snow covered barb
Wire touches where I walked in youth the ruts in the road the car that made them contained my family
That doesn’t exist anymore but for a brief moment your brush and paint made them live again what a
Thrill the purr of the engine the car heater the sounds of dad and mom and sister lingers on the cold icy
Wind you created with soul and emotion I saw dad rolling a cigarette from a bag of bullduarm my
Mother has on a silk head scarf my sister is drawing in the frost on the window down and out of this
Winter scene our trip would take us to dad’s mom’s house what wonderful memories come to mind on
Those special holidays back then it seemed it always snowed before Thanksgiving and remember how
The snow would be just a mess of brown slush melting in the street they say slow down and smell the
Roses that’s good advice but stop and stand still in the room freeze the moment observe it in the
Minutest detail one day you will ache with longing if only you could step across time’s barrier touch
Grandmother’s lovely hand hear that one of a kind voice as a five year old she spun a web of adventure
All the places we were going to visit her wheel chair didn’t figure in she was the one who in the
Depression took a Walton’s truck look alike and loaded up nine children and headed to the Indian
Nation in Oklahoma that was a good trip from central Illinois I can see her participating in the shawl
Dance what a beautiful sight so I never doubted about visiting all those places and we did she spoke and
We left the widow she always set by in the kitchen we traveled on golden wings of memory you know I
Believe they were better trips than if we had gone for real her braided hair was still black as coal
Although there were strands of white snow laced through and it was a wonder how her skin was so
Brown in winter and it wasn’t from setting in the sun the previous summer what wonder lies in dreams
You see feel and hear them so well just like a painter takes the real pulls it from the air and instills it on
Cloth canvas they take the true spirit from rivers make it accost the gentle parts of our natures they
Invigorate the night sky by itself at times it is to distant the painter gives it a close friendliness a soothe
Pervades they in wrap you in the enthralling parts the part of darkness is allowed to seep into the mind
In such a personnel way you alone possess the charm and glow of night’s magical array thank you dear
Artist for setting free the very real that is so elusive but you bring it into crystal clear view
My heart is a derelict graveyard
Sodden with poetry that reverbarates miles and miles away with each painful throb
And so...
The aftermath, the ache
Tantamount to phantom limb pain
Surgical exorcism of the heart from the other
Here we go again
Some dude said Love is a dog from hell
And maybe its a fairy-tale mirage like Christmas
Hail Mary
Rid us of this daemon
That which instills terror in these frail hearts
Schizophrenic attempts to make the Mermaid of Venice copulate
Filthy little beast LOVE
Next season I might never unleash you
And forever extinct you shall be in me
Good riddance,  mind pollutant, even air
Nothing like love is in the air
I couldn't have jammed into darkness and stench
Today you might just fall down into your ****** organs and vanish
Like a pin dropping into the Grand Canyon
These feelings
Phantom limb pain
Finally the warmth is dissipated
Culmination of the opposites is impossible
Not with you and other various forms of human ****
Rigour mortis of my soul
So what choice do I have?
Except to evacuate this fantasy of madness
And secretly nurse my phantom limb pain
At least this "Stiff" gave birth to a poem
And maybe a poet
I wrote this when I was still trying to coerce my girlfriend into becoming one. She had then, told me to *******

— The End —