Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Alyssa Underwood Nov 2015
Ugh!
they cut
half my tree down
the one closest to me
where the birds made their nest
which became my shelter too
screened and swaddled by boughs
so i'm mourning a myrtle today
as Jonah once grieved for a vine
appointed by God to grow up
and ordered by Him to
go to remind
us there are
things more
important
than plants
like poetry
and people
and maybe
its one of those
i'm really missing anyway
Michael John Jul 2018
i

give me my lifes´
the day crowded bright
and the night sumptuous..

give me my pretty wife
where love at first sight
bind us..

give us two souls blithe
fused as light within light
sweet bounteous..

let us soar and dive
like content swallows might
time in lost happiness..

( and let trouble and strife
bind-us the more tight
like our first kiss..)

give then to two one life
white to white
whole as stars

as love unto death
might break apart
and ride the cosmos..


ii

the jonah by james herbert
a heist goes wrong and a colleage
is shot..

just another debacle for our hero
in a long list
that has him transferred to the

drug squad and east anglia..
to live in a caravan..
keep his eye on the locals

and drink strong beer..
ellie his partner
makes him eat

and they fall in love
though various tentions rise
due to his troubles..

some flash backs
a left baby in a toilet
sadistic stuff at the orphanage..

bullies and dodgy collars
his step father is strict
he is an ornothologist..

there are drug related incident
a dead vole
a us pilot bites the farm..

some little boy thinks he
can fly..
the water supply
some pilfering

some heavy knocks
some bad lies
some kitchen

small potatoes
but all part
of mr herbert´ s charm..

a huge storm
the spooky old mill
a wild trip..

and regression
bad men
bad men..

lot´ s of struggle
the raw products
towed in by trawler

assembled by the knights
torn
and a lost twin..

a monster in the flood
where others die
a maitre d..

a ***** salesman and
his girl in a caravan
the fishermen..

helicopters and
victory for
the forces of good..

and the jonah
gone and all
is light..

the end..
Maybe your tongue could be my own
Maybe your teeth are the mirror I’ve been fearing this whole time
Maybe your mouth is where I want to hide forever
Or maybe I want to be trapped within your mind

Maybe I want to see you from the inside
Not hearing what you have to say
But really see you from the inside
In a Jonah sort of way

Maybe I want mine to be your body
Incessant movement where one cannot tell
Where you begin and where I end

Maybe I don’t want it to ever end
Maybe it scares me if it never ends
Will it never end? Or more importantly, will it even start?
Lone walker,
In the midst of the crowd his heart was always alone.
Sank into the belly of tribulations,
Unlike the missionary journey of Jonah he was vomited into
more woes.
Like how a beautiful mountain in a wilderness thirst for tourist
So his heart was hungry for love.
If loneliness is synonymous to poverty then he deserved this cross.

Lone walker,
He lonely walked on thorns, struggled with everything, sweated blood.
He lived a life of trapped miners in a cave miles below fresh air.

Lone walker,
Rain of respite barely shower on his path.
Sun bit his skin, dews often united with his tears,
For there was no even a free den for him to rest his head.

His days were worse than the trials of Job,
For he had not even a wife to encourage him to curse God and give up the ghost.
Like an eaglet without a falcon, he was accustomed to crying for his dying talents that was hidden too deep for any scout to discover.

To him the world was empty and void of helpers
Until a moment came when he decided to abort his worries, fears and his **** past.
In a flash he recalled the parable of the talents,
In a speed of lightning he stood and put his hidden gift into use.

I key my mind into the eyes of the reader of his biography,
As I stood in the midst of his children offspring in his burial ceremony fit for kings,
With the assurance that he is not walking alone to heaven or hell indeed
And surely his once lonely heart would be filled with merriment and peace.
mjad Aug 2018
Don't use ****
To get what I need
**** em up
**** me up
Dyslexia *****
Like I **** you off
On my best friends floor
Behind the bathroom door
While they're dead asleep
Our secret to keep
Turn off the TV
Making sure they can't see
You right on top of me
Fingertips trace along your sides
While you're meeting my insides
Get to know me even more
Can't hear our moans over their snore
I can barely keep my eyes open
Swim in me like I'm the ocean
Getting seasick everywave
A life I can't help but save
Swallowed like Jonah and the whale
Pause and we both exhale
Collapse in exhaustion
After our little excursion
Your heartbeat puts me to sleep
Your breathing is still deep
Didn't even need ****
To get a good night's sleep
Umi Dec 2017
When everything ends, an angel plays a tune
When evrything ends, there's no flower to bloom
Will everyone then be in gloom ?

But don't lose hope he hasn't blown into the horn
Lose no hope and don't **** the unborn
Gentleness and patience is what we need
So don't be sad, don't fall into greed

Cheer up and take a look at the deep sea coral reefs,
Be impressed by their beauty and their great depths,
Don't be sickened by peoples beliefs,

And remember the man who disappeared without a trail...
He was swallowed by a by a whale...
It was Jonah until he had Prayed!
"My lord is forgiving, O mighty one"
And then there was aid

So don't lose hope my dear children
There is help. So don't fret,
And please also never forget
That mama will be here for you, remembering you the moments you smiled ~

Formed of light and beauty, the angels of the lord
The gratest of the greatest who keeps his word,
Oh God, you are the highest notning can compare to you
You taught me everything I knew.

This one angel who does wait,
Is the one who knows our fate,
On that day, heavens and Hells gate,
Shall be opened for those who are righteous
For those who are trescious

Enjoy every moment of living oh children of earth
Our life could be taken any second...may even at birth
Enjoy the beauty of this world and remember..we're transient

Forgiveness isn't easy, grudges lead astray
Just pray (for them)
And you will find peace
And your hatred then shall cease
Just avoid the devil...please pass this test

I have attained realisation through my incapacity...
My submission and my broken mind
Is it enlightment which I will someday find ?

In pleasure and delight
Don't you see ?
And as long as you are pleased with me..
I cherish your glorious might..

For joy and expansion is my state...
The two things which I will wait (with)
And my motto and my cover

And the words which came from ours messengers mouths,
Have healed my hearts sickness
Has saved me from drouth

Be reminded of our short life
and don't be troubled with other folks strife
Just remember the blessings you have been given
and maybe, hopefully you will be forgiven

And under these drifting clouds even though the ages fade
With this unchanging life I can keep shining for you, and aid

And overcoming even time and space
May my gaze though fraught with sin leads you on to a happy life

Oh you humble soul,
Please do tell me, what might be your prescious goal ?
Is it this world you want to stroll (through!)

Oh you angels with all of your wings,
I would like to be amongst you it would be of the best blessings
With all your beautiful dressings
I would like to be an angel, sweet innocent and pure
That would bring me happiness for sure

I will work to be righteous....until everything ends, and that angel plays a tune


~ Umi
This title took so long to finish, I do hope you can enjoy it
Before I became a woman, life was just a collection of childish adventures
Playing "ten-ten" in the evening, oblivious to the chickens coming home to roost.
"Always" was just another word and the only cramps I experienced
were those that resulted from climbing too many trees.
Barry was just "the boy with the big head"
and Joseph was my "play-play" husband.
"Hide and seek" was not a game of hearts
and cartoons always had a moral lesson.
*** was an example of a "three letter word" and life was so simple without having to wear a bra.
Before I became a woman,
fathers were always the men and wives were always women.
Nobody confused those roles becaue
"Ali" was always the boy and "Simbi" was the girl
"Adam was to Eve" as pencil was to eraser.


Before I became a woman,
foolishness was not sold on TV because the truth was preached in black and white.
A ten year old was still her mother's baby  not bride of bearded old man.
Children were going to be leaders of tomorrow,
"Twerk" was not an example of a verb
because Hannah Montana still had her clothes on.
The boys didn't stop to stare and tease because I was unripe for harvest.
Sunday school was about "How the fish ate Jonah"
and not about Salem my newest "crush."
Before I became a woman,
I wanted to marry a doctor, pilot, Jack Sparrow,
or the boy next door.
Then I grew up...


When I became a woman,
Life took on a new meaning
A collection of choices and decisions.
The boys didn't want to play no more and mama said I had to be lady.
Sally and Amina didn't want to talk anymore because puberty had reared its head
and boys were more interesting than our games of old.
When I became a woman,
I learnt about purpose and the ills of society
I stepped back and saw that little girl gradually fade away.
I did not try to run after her, her part in my life was  over.
I watched her go with a mixture of pain and happiness
I stepped into my woman suit and made my own mistakes.
I cried my own tears and bandaged my own wounds
I knew now that life was only fair to those who never gave up.


Now lipsticks and mascara have replaced a lot of play things.
Now I am woman and I want to marry ambition, guts and a man who is not too proud to believe in God.
Now I am a woman but no  child is still a leader.
Now I am a woman and I own my mistakes
Now I am a woman and I am not afraid to love, live or pray.
Now I am a woman but I have more than a figure eight.
Now I am a woman and I understand my mother better.

I pray for you young girl,
may you have the courage to wave childhood goodbye
when the sounds of womanhood begin to reach your ears
May you be brave enough to miss a game of hopscotch
so you can catch a train to destiny.
And when you are ripe for marriage
may you not look for a man that will validate your existence.
Put away childishness as you wait for that boy
that has become a MAN WHEN YOU BECOME A WOMAN.

#EchoesOfChildhood #PoemsForTheYoungMe #Womanhood #Love #Live #Play #MoveOn #Energie
Joanna Aug 12
Just as Lazarus was raised from the dead by the word Jesus said, He shall be changed in a twinkling of an eye.

Just as Jonah was released from the belly of the whale, we shall rise up and overcome with a love that can not fail.

Just as in the days of Ruth we must walk a hidden path in truth.

And just as Paul and other that have gone before; had faith for what they could not see...beyond this open door.

And just as Esther had the confidence to begin we have the blueprint to go within.
to read more of my writings go to: http://reflectionsoflight7.wixsite.com/home
jiminy-littly Mar 13
when the mind becomes numb

a skull can be dissected to show its cavities

cavities are the orbit of the eyes

an old Indian saying?


I noticed you really just want to annihilate me

not comfort you.

There is a blood meal in me
ready to explode  

a tombed implosion

an imprisoned womb.


But it's too late for that

time is personal

and lately, voices

I fear the indecipherable is now decipherable

I see in Moriah, Jonah, Tyler incredible nations
Cree, why didn't you listen to me?

can you ******* saliva?
get over it!

you know

the skull was dissected to show the cavities of the orbit of the suns.
serpentinium Feb 3
storytelling was god’s first gift
to humanity,
a way to embalm our histories,
to dress them up
just as a mortician might paint
the dead
to give the illusion of life—
the mirage of
immortality on our own terms.

and so we become this patchwork of stories,
tales sewn into
the very fabric of human existence like
some great cosmic
game of telephone stretching across
13,000 generations
of **** sapiens who lived and loved
under the same
canopy of distant, blazing stars.

but like the stars, we too die; we
collapse upon
ourselves, upon the weight of
our genetic code
spooled out and stretched like thread
until there is
nothing left to give—no more DNA
to copy, just an
empty tomb, the stone rolled away.

if only death were a simple thing,
like how our brains
can go on autopilot on our commute to work.
i’d love for us to
be able to hand money to the bus driver
and say, smiling,
“all that is mine i carry with me,”
and board the
bus heading to Somewhere empty-handed.

in this fear of a Somewhere, we’ve
turned god’s
gift into a weapon, sharpened
our walking
sticks into spears, melted our
shields into
double-edged swords, named
one side faith
and the other side belief.  

we cut down those whose beliefs
are different
from ours without exception, as if billions
of years ago
we weren’t all carbon and hydrogen atoms
bonded
together, spinning slowly in the dark expanse of
a frigid universe,
the very foundation of the celestial blueprint.

as if millions of years ago we weren’t
a family
huddled by a fire while the fifth Ice Age
raged on
outside, making glaciers out of  mountains.
we sat together
and swapped stories, painting our lives on
cave walls
using sticks and crushed beetle shells.

in this century, we collect new converts like
captured pawns
on a chessboard, as if belief is a battlefield and
the price of
doubt is a one-way bus pass to a Somewhere
that tastes
like brimstone, milk, and honey licked clean
from a lion’s
ribcage: a hint of ash mixed with sweetness.

because all evil carries a hint of god,
doesn’t it?
he made figs and floods, broom trees
and plagues,
trumpets and leprosy, blessings and
curses. at night we
fear that no amount of weeping or
new covenants
will make the scales fall from our eyes.

so humans, in our finite wisdom
can only
say, “all that is mine i carry with me,”
and pray
to Yeshua, the deliverer, to Adonai, the
Lord, and
rest on the seventh day of our rebirth
so we can
wake at dawn and see that it was good.

some days we can be like Jonah in the
belly of a fish,
wise Solomon on his golden throne lined
with idols, Job
who cursed the day of his birth with every
breath, Naomi
whose bitterness begot the still-born name Mara,
so long as we
remember to carry that which belongs only to us:

love.
Ken Pepiton Mar 14
Chaucer. Cantebury Tales Thunk Another Time

might be
unimaginable to most

Urbanites of several recent generations
in
These untie-ted states

city folk have never told stories
by the mile,

with piles of rocks marking trail tailin's

so old
that trail, marked by that pile o'rocks been
so long since foot trod that path

only scratches on the rocks say which way we
all
got
here. Today, as we call it.

Hueta, esta dia, right now

here. Walk a while, we're off to find reason
to believe.
Someone I heard thinks we all do.

I believe we do.
---Wha'bou' un believe? D'jewthank we'all'kin?
kin we all un be lieve,
leaven well left alone, hill folk, some say...

...hidden things thought thank worth,
beauty, as an idea,

for instance.

Sunsets.
... ...Yes, and the early morning does
have gold
{}
In'er mouth,
privilege all ovahdat.
Got the rot
all dug

dig it, all dug out cavity, crowned in gold

turn that empty cavity inside out, the wise hermit's cave is paved.
Plenty room for all his eukaryotic friends

then flouride, po-luted our ****** fluids.

Play that song on that ***'ar wit thraystrangs, po'man lute
Jew or juice harp
poing poing poing y'ken?

and keep time wit' the walkin' drum. Do that
dentist drill dance, then sing us a
song o'six penitents
patient sufferers o'the way thangsbe,

left well enough alone.

Strange love was to my tale as, that Bannon guy
might be today. Trump's last quarter email player?
Y'know the guy. He's Youtube famous. Bannon,
(Steve,

or Bruce? )
No, Bruce Banner, was the hulk of burning credulity, the pile
symbol
driver. Digging down to bedrock
.... That's how the Macedonian kid did, at Tyrus. ( ify'wishy'knew)

Pier pressing past the farthest reach of tide.

Past where pearls take graunular expansion to

knackerin' gnosymagi  levels of possible hidden glory believeable by few.

Teller, the infamous Mr. Teller, he taught me duality.
Im balance, make fission, break, slam fuseconfuse, blow

don't burn the whole higgsian bubble to expel the very idea of anti matter, it may be useful,
rightusable or ible

Moby grandular totally tubular, what a clam can do.
According to that story, why not feed swine pearls? I'll tell you.

we may come back to right here, this here here,
if 'n' only

if we do not forget where we saw that

landmark a cient elder mustaset

Straggler mumbler, you okeh? Y'got a story.

I'll listen. It's yetawhile
t' can't we bury it.

---
is the granularity of perception adjustable or ible?

We are li'ble to learn, 'fwee

live so long. Said the old caned creature, in the way back.


-------
At the edge of credulity, eh

how far is how ever, far or ever, time space

same same, but

right. Re
al ity ness realreal reason able ibility

we, you and I, this state of least sharable ible ness
we, at this point,

dancing hermetical waxen winged shoes into flames. Teller level flames.

-------
what lies did I un believe? All of'em.

You seem real. (dear reader)

A pier past the last tugged tide, into the deep

-----

peace, in fly-over country on a sunny day.

Ah, where I live, there in
my peace valley overwitch the marines fly every day

and I talk, in my revery, basking in the sun with my lizard brain in heaven
I talk to the cadre controling machines named for
subjected peoples, Apaches of all sorts.

I knew Johnny. And I knew his brother, Jonah.

Johnny Appleseed and Jonah Whalepuke.

They could been twins, save
the smell and wind's role in the story, when it all

stirs. SSTop and ask, dear reader, is this safe, this place?

Adlebraned idyl word forms framing un imaginable worlds.

Goodness gracious sakes alive gnostic means

you know. Here's one we agree on:

Heretic tic, there a tic tic time you re

call the warning bout finding one's ownself in the book of life?

This is that. You can't get past it on your knees,

this is the bar, you don't pass it, you cross it.

Who inherits the wind if the meek inherit the earth?

inspire expire it is breathing, all the way down.

bubbles. ity bubbles ify bubbles some time bubbles

awefilled imagined bubbles in bubble forever,

mazed bubble pops

those aren't real. Gnostic heretic is one who thinks
he thinks and has all the knowledge

in the real world,

in his hand, and
it ain't even five gee. We can go faster or deeper. You choose.
We gotta understand what standing and under mean as a thing

we can miss. aitia indicates wisdom is not pre packed with
understanding.

She says, you should know by now.

Nothing missing, nothing broken, though ye walk

through the valley of
your own shadow death as I drip drip drip

hear me, gotcha once, gotcha twice

ripples in time can you hear me now?

Thanks.

Seed. Time. Harvest. Information re
garding the entire process

was intentional. You reap what you sow. That is kharma.

Life ain't fair eventually. The good guys always win. It's in the hermit's will.

You can read. It's said, the man
wombed or un, who can and don't's no better armed then than
the critter that can't

read the sign that said stop.
Funeral musings
Tennis ball heart
At the tip of your nose
The end of your throat
Swallowed by things which aren’t meant to mean anything
Ineffectual
Dismissive
In-between all of it
The edge of hot-water bottle giggles
Film credits
The smell of breakfast
Swallowed by you
Jonah in his own mouth
Warm, alone
A little suffocated
aware of the sound of running water
Does the divine exist in this redness?
I will feel so glad to go
Will I feel so glad to go?

— The End —