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Larry B Oct 2010
Death stands knocking at my door
"Go away" I scream, "Go away"
But he chooses only to ignore
And not listen to what I say

He keeps peering through my windows
Looking for a way, to enter in
While making subtle innuendos
About the kind of person I've been

Ever knocking, he will not leave
Trying to get my attention
His subliminal messages I receive
That tells of his evil intention

I keep hearing him knocking, every hour
He will not let me sleep
Holding me captive, with his evil power
Ever chasing my soul to reap

Knocking, knocking, knocking
His cadence is driving me mad
My fear, he's continuously mocking
Envading what dreams I've had

Then his knocking suddenly disappears
As silence now rings in my head
Maddness has overtaken my fears
Or maybe this means I'm dead
Adam M Snow Apr 2014
The Doorway (Revelation 3:20)
Written by Adam M. Snow

Here I stand,
your doorway's closed;
I cannot move beyond the door.
I'm waiting here
for your reply,
knocking on your door, is I.

Can you hear me -
knock, knock knocking,
waiting here by your door?
Will you open, let me in?
Am I not your friend?
Here I stand,
your door is closed;
I cannot enter.
Will you answer the door for me?

Can you hear me -
knock, knock knocking?
Will you kindly let me in?
Here I stand,
waiting here.
Knocking on your door,
I stand here.
Your door is closed.
Will you open, answer me?

Here I stand -
knock, knock knocking.
Can you hear me -
knock, knocking at your door?
I stand here
at your doorway;
Will you answer
- open door for me?

I am your friend.
I am waiting,
waiting at your doorway.
I am here, knocking,
knocking at your door.


"Behold, I stand at the door and knock. If anyone hears My voice and opens the door, I will come in to him and dine with him, and he with Me." - Revelation 3:20 NKJV
Classified Feb 2014
Hanging from the rafters,
Bleeding on the floor,
Whatever you must do, don't come knocking on my door.

Hanging from the rafters,
Bleeding on the floor,
The scene you'd see in front of you holds a lot of blood and gore.

Hanging from the rafters,
Bleeding on the floor,
The sight of me would make you wish you could change it before.

Hanging from the rafters.
Bleeding on the floor.
Whatever you must do,
Don't come knocking on my door.
Don't come knocking on my door. Don't come knocking on my door.  
Don't come knocking on my door.
Don't come knocking...
M Stafford Nov 2013
Come a knocking if you are bored,
Come a knocking, I will be your *****.
Come a knocking if you need a good chat.
Come a knocking just because you want to come a knocking.
You know who you are so come a knocking soon. : )
Ahmad Cox May 2012
Rapping at my door
Sometimes my thoughts
Come a knocking
At my door
Like a raven
Stealing in the night
Cold and dark
Intelligent and cunning
Knock knock knocking
Threatening
To drive me from my peace
Threatening
To drive me mad
Threatening
To make me feel
Like I might go insane
Rap rap rapping at my door
I wish that raven
Would stop knocking
Would stop knocking
At my door
So that maybe
I could get
A little peace
And quiet
From that incessant knocking
Cedric McClester Oct 2016
By: Cedric Mc'Clester

If a stranger came knocking at your door
Would you answer it or ignore
The person on the other side
Or would they just be denied
What if the stranger had come for you
With blessings and forgiveness too
Tell me then what would you do
What would you decide

Ya know it happened once before
It was Jesus knocking at the door
But he was left to wait outside
Rejected and denied

What if you discovered it was your salvation
Outside the door that you left waiting
Looking for an offer to come in
Wouldn't that be an awful sin
And if that stranger would die for you
Be persecuted and go through
What no other person you know would do
Would you let him in

Ya know it happened once before
It was Jesus knocking at the door
But he was left to wait outside
Rejected and denied

If a stranger came knocking at your door
Would you do what they did to Jesus before
Would you leave him standing outside your door
Rejected and denied

If the stranger turned and walked away
Tell me truthfully would you rue the day
That you didn't let him in
Please answer if you can
What if his life served as a lesson
Of forgiveness for your transgressions
Would you attempt to apologize
Once you finally realized
And if so tell them when

Ya know it happened once before
It was Jesus knocking at the door
But he was left to wait outside
Rejected and denied


If the stranger turned and walked away
Tell me truthfully would you rue the day
That you didn't let him in
Please answer if you can
What if his life served as a lesson
Of forgiveness for your transgressions
Would you attempt to apologize
Once you finally realized
And if so tell them when



Cedric McClester, Copyright (c) 2016.  All rights reserved.
fortune is knocking
should i answer the door?
I've been waiting my entire life...
but then there's nothing left to wait for
fortune is knocking
and i can hear it so clearly
but it doesn't matter what i do
if this ends my life so dearly
fortune is knocking
and the temptation is strong
I don't know how long I can wait
or whether i'm right or wrong
fortune stopped knocking
i should've taken my chance
to shine in glory at my name
in life- to take a stance
fortune is gone
my dear old friend has left
he never comes around any more
I think he might be dead
fortune is knocking
I have one last chance to go
but wait my life is ending now
I guess i'll never know
you shouldn't stop doing great things just because your afraid they might be your last, there is always a way to make it even further into the world, until you physically cannot move any more.
rhema subedi Oct 2016
I know I ought to knock on doors; who doesn’t?
But I’m way too blind to see the door,
And far too stupid to realize that what I’m knocking on is a wall.

You don’t answer my knocks. Of course you don’t; why would you?
You would, of course, have answered a knock on the door,
But why; why would you answer my pathetic little knock on the wall?

You won’t. I know you never will.
But still, I keep knocking.
Even though I know you won’t answer.

You probably don’t even hear my knocks.
But I knock relentlessly. Of course I do!
I have nowhere else to go, no other place to knock.

And maybe, maybe
If I knocked on someone else’s wall, they’d answer.
Maybe, just maybe,
If I went to find someone as friendless as me, they would let me in.

But I don’t. Because I want YOU to be my friend.
No one else.
But that doesn’t change the fact that I can’t find the door into your life.

I’m knocking on one part of the wall after another,
Hoping, always hoping,
That someday, someday I’ll come across the door.
And praying, always praying
That you’ll answer that knock on that day, even if you don’t answer any other.
Ashlyn Yoshida Apr 2020
Once upon a time there was a girl who lived in a house full of shadows and mirrors with no one to help her out but herself. Cobwebs covered the corners and her feet and her eyes. At some point she had given up from leaving and stayed still for years. One day, there was a knock on the door and the girl shivered off her webs and slowly walked over to the locked door to set her ear against the cold wood. She didn't hear anything else other than a shuffle and the sound of footsteps walking away. The girl went back to her place where she had stood and found a crack of light across the mirror. Desperate to see and to escape the shadows she tried moving the mirror to reflect the light tenfold. But she pushed too hard and the mirror feel and shattered. She sat there in the broken glass, blood dripping from her legs. She sat there and cried, angry for the hope she had gotten. And she stayed still for another year until a knock at the door was heard again. This time she ignored it. She ignored it so well, she thought, that even when it got louder she turned her head, piercing her feet on the glass that still lay around her. She muffled a scream and listened to the knocking. It had stopped, why had it stopped? She got up to check the door, wincing in pain at each step. But when she pressed her ear against the door once more, the sound was gone and replaced with the echoing footsteps of someone leaving. The girl, angered, stomped back to her place only to see the light again. She felt excited and tried to at least touch the light, hold it in her hands to feel warm. She took a step forward, crashing into the mirror that had been reflecting it, once more breaking the reflective glass. More blood and pain and tears. The next time she saw the light or heard the knocking she ignored it.
It took years, each one annually the knocking came and went and the light feel across the girl in her cobwebs, shadows, and mirrors in a locked up house that no one noticed, wanted, or saw. She felt more and more alone with each coming day, the knocking the only thing that made her happy because it meant that something living was there at the other side of the door. If only she could open it.
One the day she decided to give up all thoughts of meeting the one who knocked at her door, she stood up and walked across the glass, tearing her feet. She crashed into mirrors, ****** and bruised she reached the door and leaned against it, crying.
When she heard the knocking she cried harder. The knocking continued, three even knocks. A pause. And then three even knocks. It would do this one last time. The girl was fed up with the knocking by now, so she decided to do it to them, too. She knocked back three times after the second knock of theirs. She waited. The knock came from them. She knocked back. It continued until the light in the house moved to the mirror in front of her fully and she saw herself, blood and tear stained in the reflection. She smiled at herself. She heard something move, something metal slide from underneath her door. Something cold touched her fingertips as she wrapped her hand around it. A rusty old key. She used it to unlock the door to see who had been knocking for her all those years. She opened the door.
And there the girl was, smiling back at herself. "You made it."
The End
ignore the formatting
Devin Seiger May 2016
Knocking.
There must be someone,
something.
Knocking on the wall
of my head.
For every day
and every night,
my head pounds.
Even when I lie in
bed.
Light pierces and burns,
oh
and the pressure.
It presses against each side
of my skull
like a juice press and squeezes
                                thoughts
of my head
like it’s making some kind of
concoction.
Why me?
Why every day
for as long as I can
remember
has my head pounded.
Maybe
just maybe
It’s the words,
        knocking
                knocking
on my mind.
Asking to be
                spilled
out onto something concrete.
Maybe
just maybe
this knocking,
                pounding,
                        tortu­ring,
feeling inside my head,
is me?
Poem I wrote when I had a pounding headache
THE GREAT POOL TOURNAMENT



we are here at the Green bay packers football club, for the annual pool competition

and we have a great line up of pool champions from simon o’heary and brendan itato,

they are the players who fought it out in last years final, and this year promises to be a bumper

of a tournament.    


the first match is between samuel patrice and johnny carter, and samuel gets the break which is a beauty

knocking the number 14 in first and then knocked the number 12 in next and his third go, he attempted to

knock the number 9 in but missed by a whisker

and then johnny had his go, and he is on smalls, yep he missed the pocket with the first shot by the skin of his teeth

so samuel lined up with his next shot and knocked the 15v and the number 9 in, and only had 16, 10 and 11 to go

before the black ball, samuel was on a roll, and then samuel knocked the number 10 in, and there was no way he was

going to lose this game, no way, but then he knocked the 16 in and then straight away knocked the 11 in and then he was

on the 8 ball, and if he knocks this one in, the game is won, and the black was right near the hole, which was easy for samuel to sink

and he sank it, and samuel won, and johnny carter was out yet again, and samuel moved onto the next round, where he played the

winner of the other table, who was phillip cutherhead, and this was promising to be a promising match, so the referee tossed the coin

and phillip won and decided to break, and when he did he sent the ***** to 7th heaven, you see phillip beat 17 year old colin hayes,

who was hoping to ****** up the tournament, and when we interviewed colin, man, he was very disappointed but he knew that this year

wasn’t his year, samuel had the second shot, and by geez, he couldn’t have whacked a more perfect shot knocking the number 6 in the left

middle pocket, radical, samuel continued to show style by knocking 4 in right bottom and 3 in left middle and 5 in left middle and 2 in middle right

and 1 in middle left and 7 in middle right and then knocked the 8th in to win this easily.

the next game started with samuel and his opponent harry burns knocking each ball in 1 by 1 and samuel ended up winning this close match by a flukey

knock of the number 13 and the next shot on the 8th meant if you miss this you are going to harry’s  turn so he knocked it in and samuel went to the bar

to rest up till his next game.and watch the match to see his next opponent, and the match was between brendan schultz and simon weather by and brendan

broke and it was a ****** powerful shot and simon was left wondering what hit him, brendan was the third best last year and he was determined to become

2 times better and simon wanted to set a trap for brendan, so to speak, he had some tricks lined up, and brendan wasn’t shy to display these shots in the match

brendan did a trickshot knocking number 14 in middle right and 9 in bottom left and 12 in middle left all at once, which left simon completely speechless,

brendan ended up winning and was waiting for simon to finish his losers interview, so he can talk about that win, simon told the press a pack of wild bulls

couldn’t beat brendan in this match and then he congratulated brendan, brendan was happy to be in the final against samuel to see who comes 1st or 2nd


1.  they played the national; anthem of the USA

2.  Samuel and brendan stood back to back and the referee was standing behind them

3.  10 year old benjamin whaler tossed the coin to see who will break in the tournament final, brendan won and chooses to break

4.  brendan and simon had a arm wrestle in the lead up and on with the GAME in this bumper grand final


brendan broke and by geez he broke a beauty and knocked the 11 ball in and is on bigs, the next shot, brendan scattered all the ***** on

every corner of the table, and samuel had his next shot, and can’t believe he missed everything forcing brendan to have 2 shots, must be nerves

from the other two wins, brendan’s first shot knocked 16 and 5 in, which ruined the 2 shots that samuel gave him, samuel was very excited, he went

straight over to knock the 3 ball in and then knocked the 7 ball in and then nearly knocks the 4 ball in, but didn’t, and after that brendan sank the white ball

which gave samuel 2 shots, let’s hope he doesn’t do what brendan did, samuel concentrated very hard hitting the 3 ball in and then 1 ball in and then

the 6th ball in and then knocked the 2 ball, and without knowing it samuel was looking like winning the tournament, as he was 1 ball away from winning

the tournament, and samuel had his next shot but there was a lot of pressure, he sank the white and gave brendan 2 shots, which made brendan have

to concentrate, because he couldn’t make a mistake because samuel was on the 8 ball, brendan did a trick shot sinking 9 ball into middle left side and 10 ball

into middle right and 15 into right bottom, and then did another trick shot knocking 11 ball in the left middle pocket and 12 ball in the right middle pocket and

13 ball in the right corner pocket and 14 ball in the middle left, and both samuel and brendan were both on the 8th, the next whot brendan missed the right bottom pocket

and samuel had his shot and sank the black right into the top right pocket, which gave sam the tournament and brendan went out of the building refusing to talk to any member

of the press, the next step was



1.  brendan congratulated sam on his great win

2.   sam gets the trophy and says thanks to the crowd for making this all possible

the speech

i didn’t think i would win that last match

brendan was putting on some very good shots

and if it wasn’t for him missing that last shot

i wouldn’t’ have the chance, THANKS EVERYONE

and then sam held the cup over his head, and did a lap of honour around the pool hall, , and then the announcer said samuel, you are the best

and we will see you next year

GOODBYE
Knock
Roll over, it's in my dream
Again
But I'm so comfortable
More, urgently
And I'm awake, again
Knock

Knock

Knock, knock
Not at the bedroom door, no
Knocking
The window is empty
My night is brisk
No wilting lovers
Tapping stones off my pane

Nope

Knock, knock, knocking
Not from the attic,
No ghostly chains in the basement
Such horrors on the tube
Frantic now, stabbing tattoo on glass
Knocking, knocking, knocking
Then, in mid tap, it stops

Silence

It's abrupt, white knuckled
I search the house, room to room
My bat, seems small in my fists
Shadows seem to move
Just behind my back
I'm never quite fast enough
But I can hear them move

But nothing

Pulling the blankets up
Rolling over again
Not entirely sure,
But there is no one
Nothing near
Scratching...

I hear

Knocking
Scratching
Knock, knock
Knocking
Scratch

I'm up
Again, again
I can hear them now
Clearly, in the night
From the house
I drain, white

The **mirror
Kathleen Dec 2016
The pipes are knocking in the walls; groaning and dying.
You roll to the other side of the bed.
I roll out of bed and put a *** on.
The lights outside are strewn in no particular order and just on the door;
as if to say 'we tried'.
We try until the pipes burst.
We try until the coffee runs out.

I let skynet tell me the news brief and sit here.
I could be studying a way out of here.
But I don't go in until after noon.
I make another cup of coffee.
Listen to Teagan and Sara.
Look at ways to **** time...

The pipes haven't burst yet, but they're still knocking in the walls.
loveless Jul 2016
Knock knock

"Anyone there?" he heard someone saying it while knocking at the door. That one knocking the door had a voice of a child. The voice was soft and with this the old man inside the house guessed the age of child to be probably five to six years.

"Hellooo" the kid said again. He was continuously knocking the door.

Child continued to knock for a little while.

"I know you are inside there, please respond"
Child said pleadingly.

"Go away, no one is here" the old man said furiously. He was frustrated.

"Oh! Here you are" child responded "Dr Adam, I need help, I am..." the child couldn't complete the sentence, and the old man's heard a thud which was supposedly bigger than a knock. Possibly his head had banged against the door. Something had happened, the old man knew.

The old man was a loner but he wasn't heartless to not check on the kid. He bookmarked the page and kept the book he was reading on the table. He stood up and started to walk towards the door. He put down the chain and then opened the door slowly.

The child was holding on the door. As the old man opened the door the child could barely keep standing for some moments and he started to fall near the man's legs. Old man was quick and he put his hand below the child so he couldn't fall on the floor.

The old man grasped the hand of the boy to check his pulse. The boy was still alive though there was something weird about his pulse. It was weak, he could barely sense it and the pulse was low to around forty per minute. He was still breathing. The child was unconscious.

The old man grasped that kid in his arms and took him to his bedroom, situated upstairs on right corner of the house. He placed that kid on the bed which was still as fluffy as a new bed would be. It's been years since that old man was back to his bedroom. He used to sleep mostly in his chair while reading. He placed pillow under the kid's head and went back downstairs to other room.

That room didn't looked like a room, it looked more like a library. The room was large and there were books everywhere. His hand written notes and research was all scattered in the room. And the old man grasped they book he left on the table and continued reading.

Some hours passed and the old man heard the door opening upstairs. The child had woken up, he knew. The old man grabbed some fruits lying in the basket and went upstairs. The kid was just out of the room.

"Hey kid, you can still rest a little, and if you don't want to rest, you can have these fruits and go"

"Dr. Adam!?"

"Yes"

"I'm dying."

The old man was speechless as he heard these words from that little child. Many patients had come to him before, knocking on his door, to help them but he had left his profession because of one accident. All of them had to go back. He didn't even opened his door to anyone before. But now he had a child in front of him, who said he was dying and this left the old man speechless.

"Go to the hospital kid, I can't help you. I do not operate anymore"

"I went to the hospital. The disease I have have no cure. Not a single of them can cure me"

"Then how do you think I'd be able to cure you?"

"My disease makes my heart weaker by the moment it beats"

The old man knew this disease. All he could do was just stare at that kid and listen to him.

"They told me that long ago, a genius researched upon something and came across a cure to everything. And in that time, a kid had the same disease as me. He could die anytime. That genius used his talents to give that kid a new life. He cured that child and that child lived for a day but something happened and the disease of kid returned. This time, a million time worse and the kid died."

A silence followed after the kid.

"That genius was you Dr Adam . You had saved that kid before, even for just some days, but only you were the one to be able to find its cure. Save me doctor. Save me."

"I... I can't..." for the first time in years, the old man was not rude. His voice was trembling. In his eyes was fear. His north had dried up. He couldn't speak another word.

He was taken aback. He was looking in the eyes of that kid and in those little eyes of that kid was hope. Blue eyes of that kid were same as that of Nicholas, that kid the old man failed to save life of.

And the old man went to a state of trance and started to wonder in the memories thirty years back.

He was young back then. He was a genius. He learned to speak when he was just six months old. At three he used to solve maths problems easily that were hard for child double his age. His parents knew he was talented and so they gave him best education they could. He completed his doctorate degree at the age of seventeen when most of the people his age would be looking for what to do. He was a prodigy.

He joined a hospital. And started to operate on people. The operations that looked hard to normal one, he was able to do without a sweat. He wanted to do more. And so he got a home for himself where he could work in peace. He started on researching the cure of everything. He would think, search and experimented alone.

One morning, two years later, he found that any disease can be cured using magic. The magic that provides energy and makes life energy so strong that the body itself heals itself.

He was happy that day. He went to hospital to break out the news to everyone. But on his way, he found a small kid, of five years, laying on the bed.

"Hey kid" he said to the child.

"Hello doctor..."

"My name is Adam. What's your name"

"I'm Nicholas, doctor Adam"

"What happened to you Nicholas"

"I don't know."

"Don't worry, you'll be alright. I promise you"

"Thank you Dr Adam" the child smiled. That smile was so full of feelings that it made Adam more happy from inside. That smile had touched his heart. He just wanted to make that kid more happy by curing him of whatever he had. He made a promise to himself that he would cure that kid before telling upon his research to everyone.

He ran across the hospital and went to the other room where the doctors handling the patients of that room were.

"Hey Robert"

"Hello sir" though Robert was ten years older than Adam but still he used to call Adam sir because Adam was a lot more senior than him because of his knowledge.

"Whats up with Nicholas"

"That small boy"

"Yes"

"Actually, we don't know anything yet"

"What?"

"We've never seen such disease yet"

"What is with that disease"

"His heart is losing strength by the moment it beats. A severe pain was in his heart for unknown reasons pops up whenever. And he sometimes loses his consciousness at random times. That's one of a kind case. He can die at any time."

The young prodigy was speechless for the first time. His thoughts took him to another world. He was broken because he thought he couldn't help that kid. And then he heard a scream coming from the same place Nicholas was in.

He ran back to there. Nicholas was holding his heart with one hand and screaming. The pain was immense. Beyond measure of one's imagination. The eyes were flooded with tears. This view shocked Adam. He had never heard anyone shriek that loud in his whole life.

He went near Nicholas and held him up in his arms. He hugged him close and said that everything will be alright. The child's voice somehow lowered. After some moments, that. stopped crying and just stayed in his arms.

"Save me Dr Adam! Save me" the kid said sobbingly and then collapsed under his hands and got unconscious.

For the first time in his life the doctor felt helpless. He realized how precious life was. And he could not help that kid. The young man started crying. And suddenly a bright idea struck his mind. He thought of using the magic he researched for to cure this child.

"I will save you kiddo, I definitely will" he said to that small kid and then turned to Robert who had followed him

"Robert, can you take him to the operating table please"

"Yes but first tell me what are you going to do"

"I will tell you later. Just trust me and take him to there" Adam gave that kid to Robert and started to go out "I need to go back home for a bit. I'll be back quick" he said to Robert hurriedly and ran back to home. He needed to see the procedure again. He didn't wanted to do any mistake. Though he had not done any experiment to any animal, he was still confident in his research.

He came back to home, took out some notes of his from his book and started to read them. Then after some minutes, he ran back to hospital along with those notes. He just went to the room where the kid was. Robert was there near the table and the child still knocked unconscious and laying on the operating table.

"Thank you Robert. Can you please leave us alone now"

"But what are you going to do now?"

"Cure him"

"But how?"

"I can't tell you now but I will surely cure him"

Robert was still reluctant but he knew that Adam may have come up with some way of curing that child

"Trust me, I will surely" Adam said

And with that Robert finally left from there.

The doctor begin the procedure and he placed his palm on the child's heart tenderly. Then he closed his eyes and then had his other hand up. The other hand was open like he was gathering something from sky inside his hand. He was channeling the energy of the universe too the life energy of the kid.

The man could feel it running through his body. It was like the kid's energy was faint green in color and the energy in his hand was vibrant blue which was intense. The blue energy went from his hand to the other hand was going to the child's energy and making it stronger. But Adam didn't knew why there were two colors of energy. There was something wrong, he felt but nevertheless he continued to channel. Gradually the energy inside kid began to grow and it was full again. Like the color of child's energy was not blue but with little faint green inside.

Adam withdrew his hand. Nicholas was still breathing and seemed to be in good shape. Adam knew he was successful but he knew something,even if it were a little thing, had been wrong. And he sank back in the chair nearby.

After some moments the kid opened his eyes and sat on the table

"How are you feeling kiddo?" he asked standing from chair

"I... I feel... I feel fine doctor" Nicholas said. He was touching his heart like he was wondering what happened. He felt better than before. He felt that he is all alright.

"I feel good doctor" Nicholas said "I feel great" he added. He had a smile on his face. He felt rejuvenated. He was happy. Adam had a sigh of relief.

"How did you do it doctor?"

"Do what?"

"Cure me. How did you cure me? They said that my disease couldn't be cured by any medicine or surgery"

"Well...." Adam didn't knew what to say

"Tell me please. How did you?"

"Magic" and Adam smiled. He had told the truth though Nicholas didn't thought it was truth. This made nicholas laugh.

"Thank you... My magician" and they both started to laugh again. They both were happy.

"Come on now. Let me take you to your bed" and he grasped Nicholas in his arms and took him to his bed.

"I want to go home, not this bed"

"We still need to keep you under observation for a while still kiddo. So be a good boy"

"Ok magician, I will be a good boy"

Robert was there. Looking for other patients. He looked at the boy and observed him. He saw no marks, and realized surgery or something had not been done. And he later real used that pulse of the kid was normal now. And the child was smiling.

"How did you did that sir?" he asked Adam

"Ask the kid, he knows" and Robert looked at the kid

"He did magic doctor" and they both started to laugh while Robert looked puzzled. But Robert knew that the prodigy must have made some discovery and that's how he cured him and Adam want to give surprise to others.

"Congrats magician" Robert joined them.

"Robert can you help me in observing this child. I want to make sure he is all alright"

"I will sir" Robert said

They both did some tests that day along with looking after other patients. The strength of the heart of that boy had returned and heart beat was normal with no pain burst or unconsciousness for whole day.

Adam said final good night to the kid and went to his home to get some rest after informing Nicholas they he will be discharged tomorrow.

Adam dozed off to sleep quick that night. But he had a nightmare. He saw those two energies blue and faint green that were slowly disappearing. Darkness was consuming them both as they mixed. And then there was complete darkness. He heard a terrible scream of pain an then he woke up.

He couldn't wait there. He had to go back to hospital to check on Nicholas again. He dressed quick and ran to hospital. The was doctor Jack at night duty near the bed of that kid.

And that kid was laying silent. Adam held his hand. But he felt nothing. He then tried to feel heart beats but nothing again.

"What happened here?" Adam asked furiously to Jack

"Some minutes ago, we hard a loud scream for just a second or two and we realized it was Nicholas. By the time we reached here, it was all over. His heart had stopped beating"

"No that can't be" Adam said. How heart had broke.

"That disease had no cure Adam. At least you tried" Jack said

"No I should have been able to save him, I could have if I knew more, I could have" the tears of Adam flowed like an endless river of grief.

He left his profession that day. He wanted to search for the answers. He wanted to perfect his magic. He wanted not to let someone else die like that kid again. He made his home a library. He got many books. He kept on studying. He studied so much that many times he forgot to eat for days. Some books he wrote himself while researching upon. And so years passed. Life went on till today when a little child knocked his door.

His state of trance was broken by the scream of that little kid. He was holding his heart as the same way Nicholas did when he was in pain. Adam got himself and got that little boy on bed again. Kid stopped to cry after a little while. When kid had a breath of relief, he said to the old man again

"Dr Adam, I do not have much time left. Please. Help me"

"I have not finished that research yet. I may need more years to finish that cure of everything"

"I do not have years, I may not even have today and you know it"

"Kid, you may meet same fate as that kid. My procedure somehow accelerated that disease because it was wrong"

"I have to die one day if it's a week or I am left with a day after the procedure. It won't matter. I have to die anyway"

"But..." he couldn't say anything more. The child was wise and he was saying up to point.

"Can you please just try. I promise I won't regret it"

Even though thirty years had passed. Adam had made little progression towards that cure to everything. In the meantime he had found out many cures of many other diseases that was thought to be incurable but Adam wanted to perfect his procedure of cure of everything.

"Are you sure?"

"Dead sure" the kid replied. They both laughed a little on that pun.

"Get some rest. I'll be back in a bit"

He was going to do that again. He was going to use magic again. He went downstairs and started to read as much as he can of his notes. He wanted to do it perfect this time. Though he didn't knew how. After some time he went back upstairs.

"Hello again" the child said

"Are you ready kiddo?"

"I am. And by the way, my name is Nick"

"You're still kiddo for me" and they both laughed.

"Lay on the bed and don't move or say anything. Just close your eyes. I'm going to do magic"

"Ok magician" boy said. He was so much alike to Nicholas, Adam thought.

Nick did what he was told. The old man placed one hand on the boy's heart and other hand in exact same position as before years ago. He could feel the energies as he closed his eyes. The energy of the boy was faint green again. And a little more fainter than Nicholas when he was on the operating table that night. Adam felt the same blue energy in his other hand. No he thought. He couldn't put that blue energy again inside that boy. He knew the consequence. He searched for the same green one in outside universe but he couldn't. And then he heard.

"Dr Adam"

It was
I'm too lazy to add all the details in the story. Maybe one day I'll detail it.
My mind breaks down, screaming
The pain increases, always hurting
Wish it wasn't real, only dreaming
All my thoughts seem to be deserting

Hands held to my head, no escape
It's pounding, just building inside
Hear me shout out across the landscape
I can never escape even if I tried

Knocking at the door, knocking more
Thumping, taking me to the floor
Knocking at the door, head so sore
Save me from this migraine, I implore


copyright Chris Smith 16th December 2010

For all those who suffer the curse of a migraine.
Hally wally Dec 2010
Death Be Knocking
28 December 2009 at 00:21
Death be knocking in your sleep
While you lay there peacefully in a dream
The Angels came and took out your soul
Now your rest in peace in your eternal abode
The struggles you went through
Those painful headaches of yours grew
Your complaints and worries you told me so often
Which made my heart soften
You made me laugh so much
For your character id always vouch
You were my big brother to me
Despite all your anarchy
The way you made my blood boil
When you'd say I smelt of desi oil
I'd get into a hefty frenzy about it
Then you'd always make me sit
Tell me to calm down
And don't frown
You made me happy and sad
Sometimes you'd make me a little mad
But most of all, I just want to say;
'I miss you so much , I just wish you'd stay
Just one more day
Even just for word play
I'd tell you how great you are
To me you are a star
Death came knocking in your sleep



Inshallah your in a better place
away from the stressful day to day race
Another girl walks away, with tears running down her face
Another boy is standing there, trying not to give a care
Two more hearts are given a little more wear, then they could ever bear
I try not to let myself in
Other then to help them heal what has been

I begin to wonder why, cupid's aim had been gone
Is my heart gonna lead through the same wrong
I can't grip on to the arrows, knowing that a chance of wasted time is there
When all along

I just wanna be with a girl that leads the stars
A girl that will help me travel far
Somebody that can light the candles, with nothing more then her smile
That girl who is ready for war, and never too afraid to show her scares
A girl that always is ready to dial, for the long talks when our hands are too far
A girl whose eyes drive me crazy, a little more each time they meet
The feel of her breath running down my chin, knocking out the sun
I just wanna girl who is ready for, constant endless nights

I walked over to her house later that night
Just to see if everything was alright
Her daddy was trying ask her about that fight
Trying to help his little girl through, the first of more
Her momma saw me outside
Hurried me in to her daughter's side
There was nothing more that they could do
Since she had sealed them away, ready to take away the pain

She heard me knocking at her bedroom door right as she had lost all hope
Little did I know, that I was what she was wanting
When she opened up I stood there, ready for whispers of despair
I found the knife and kicked it to the hall
She then jumped up to the kiss, casting out the haunting
It looks like I finally found

The girl that leads the stars
The girl that will help me travel far
Somebody that can light the candles, with nothing more then her smile
The girl who is ready for war, but never too afraid to show her scares
The girl that always is ready to dial, for the long talks when our hands are too far
The girl whose eyes drive me crazy, a little more each time they meet
The feel of her breath running down my chin, knocking out the sun
I finally found the girl who was ready for those constant endless nights

A few days later he saw us there, laying in the park watching the skies over our heads
He wanted to start a fight, thinking that I took his might
He grabbed a knife and tried throw it towards her
I stopped him before he could
And told him that he needed to end his thoughts
But just remember this

Someday you will find the girl that leads the stars
The girl that will help him travel far
Somebody that can light the candles, with nothing more then her smile
The girl who is ready for war, but never too afraid to show her scares
The girl that always is ready to dial, for the long talks when your hands are too far
The girl whose eyes drive you crazy, a little more each time they meet
The feel of her breath running down your chin, knocking out the sun
Someday you will find that girl who was ready for those constant endless nights

He took the my words very well and wished her that all was swell
I looked at her just one more time, only to find that she was gone
She ran towards the boys side, asking him why did he start the war
When he was the one that left her side
He told her that he was high, had to clue of what went by
She only got mad, to find out that he had lied
She told him to stay away, she didn't want to hear the truth
Thinking that it was her fault, she ran off in the blink of an eye
I chased her to the side of the canyon, knowing what she was gonna do
I grabbed her arm and shouted please don't go
She ****** and asked me why
Thinking that her whole life was a lie
All I had to say was

She was the girl that lead the stars
The girl that will help me travel far
Candles burn from light of her smile
She was the girl who is ready for war, but never too afraid to show her scares
The girl that I am always ready to dial, for the long talks brewing when our hands are too far
The girl whose eyes drive me crazy, a little more each time they meet
The feel of her breath running down me chin was enough to knock out the sun
She was girl who I was ready to spend those constant endless nights
brandon nagley Jul 2015
i

Mi amour', let me taketh thy anguish
Mi amour', let me shake away thy learyness
Mi amour', let me hold all thy miseries
Mi amour', let me set thou flying free.

ii

Mi amour', let me taketh those uncertainties
Mi amour', let me take thy pains for thee
Mi amour', let me taketh all thine vex
Mi amour', I lie down mine life, for thy heart to beat in thy chest.

iii

Mi amour', stomp out those mindful doubts
Mi amour', thou already knoweth, what I am about
Mi amour', I'm gonna always be at thy side
Mi amour', I knoweth baby steps, though I feeleth thy cry.

iv

Mi amour', I'm here inside thy soul
Mi amour', mine completion, mine abode
Mi amour', taketh all of me
Mi amour', I'm thy dream, also thy reality.

v

Mi amour', throw thy distress to the winds
Mi amour', I'm knocking, wilt thou let me in?
Mi amour', I hath not gone away, I'll be here in the morn
Mi amour', mi amour', mi amour', I stand knocking for thee.......
Knocking at thy casa door........

©Brandon nagley
©Lonesome poet's poetry
©Elsa Angelica dedication
This is just saying I love mine queen Elsa and will always be at her side... She always wonder? Will I leave her????? Neverrrrr
Bethlehem Mar 2016
I hear the devil knocking on my door,trying to break me down and take my soul.

I hear the devil knocking on my door,
oh Lord I feel so alone.

He's playing with my mind, went to sleep woke up blind.

He's ripped me inside out, been Hang and been dried.

The fire burns my soul it cries,my Hart it burns my world it dies.

He's made me believe all his lies.

Tears are streaming down my face, but no one can save me from his embrace.

The devil is knocking me down, its too late he's already won.
Something knocking
one time dead,
something knocking
in my head.

My eyes open wide and that
something slides inside
and the knock, knock,
knocking fades away and then
it dies.

Baby cries deep in the crib
Mother cradles one more nib
and Father writes of sights
he's seen.

King of parlours, Queen of hearts,
no matter who
the knocking starts,
knock, knock, knocking,
baby rocking,
eyes tight shut
but
the knocking
waits.
jake aller Mar 2020
Corona Virus Poems


Index
The virus from hell is amused
End of the World
Every Day I Turn on the New
Irony Meters Blow Gaskets
Chaos
Corona Virus Fears Tanka
My Phobias Overwhelm Me
Fear Fills the Air
Is this the best we can get?
More Trouble Every Day
by pass the alarms spreading across the land
corona cinqku
Taking a Walk in the Corona Era
A lone man stands in an empty parking lot
hell of a world we live in ain’t it?
Pause for a moment amidst the media madness
I feel as if the whole world needs to be cancelled
The Virus King Cried
Bring out your dead
the Virus Came From Hell
The Delivery System of the Virus is Round
the corona virus is testing us all
the call goes out
the horsemen begin to ride
nature spirits revolts against humanity
Last Human on Island
Corona Virus Haiku
the virus came from hell
bring out your dead cries
Be Afraid  haiku
Death Comes Knocking
the virus from Hell haiku



the Virus from Hell is amused
the Virus from Hell is amused
laughing at the world’s panicked reaction
as it marches through the world unabated
infecting everyone in its wake
as the world awaits its fate
the virus smiles he ain’t no fake
he is the real deal
he is death itself
he is the end of the world
the grim reaper is smiling
god is silent as usual
the world’s leaders
dither and rather
as the economy craters
everyone hoping that God
will save them
the virus does not care
insults and orders do not work
the virus simply does its virus thing
infecting everyone it encounters
and thousands will die
equal opportunity offender
killing the rich and the poor alike
but more poor people
just so many more poor people
than the few billionaires
the virus smile
his work is done
and mankind is doomed
so be it the virus thinks




that is the way of the world
and the virus is the new king
of the world

End of the World
end of world
the fears world-wide
soon find us dead
bring out the dead
ll the dead die
death lies here there
there goes here
as death here comes
soon here death comes


Every Day I Turn on the News
debunking the bioweaapon conspiracy theories
every day I turn on the news
nothing but news about the virus
the virus from hell
the world is filled with fear
and my anxiety levels rise
every time I turn on the news
oh my god I say
we are all going to die
and I am so afraid
afraid of everyone
afraid of everything
dreading the latest news
and nothing relieves my fear
I watch the world
loosing its collective mind
wondering how much more of this
can  we all take
I scream out
Dear God save us all
god is silent as usual
and so I realized
we are doomed
perhaps it is the end times
perhaps not
I turn off the TV
try to stay calm
hoping the madness
will not overwhelm us all


Irony Meters Blow Gaskets
the Irony meter gasket
is blown again and again
with every statement
of our chaos president
and his endless surrogates
promoting the latest Presidential
on spot guidance by our great leader
that must be true
because our dear leader
says it is so
The President accuses his democratic rival
of being senile and needs to be in home
and will be run by his radical left allies
and the right wing media
echoes the presidential absurd comments
refusing to acknowledge
that the president himself
is rapidly fading into dementia
and his radical right cronies
are looting the government
driving out expertise
even in the midst of pandemic
Oh  yeah the irony meters
are blowing gaskets
every single day

Chaos
the world descends into chaos
as our world leaders
led by the chaos president
are overwhelmed
by the smallest
enemy of all
a simple virus
straight out of hell
blows through the crumbling
third world public health infrastructure
living proof of the decline of America
and no one is prepared
and panic ensures
with every Presidential tweet
as people don’t believe
a word he says
conspiracy rumors spread
everyone believes their own reality
as the world spins out of control
the chaos king is in his element
convince that only he knows
the deal
and everyone else
is iust a bit player
in the reality show
that he presides over
and so the rest of us
hunker down
just hoping for the best
as the panic and
chaos spreads faster
than the virus
are we doomed
can we survive
will God save us?
he is silent as always

Corona Virus Fears Tanka
Corona virus
lurking fears all around me
we all will die
the TV screaming nonstop
Must be afraid be afraid

My Phobias Overwhelm Me
lately I have become scared
of everything
the news scares me, the corona virus scares me, the presidential race scares me, fears of gun men in the street, terrorism, fears of getting sick, fears of dogs, fears of other people, fear of loosing money, fears of becoming demented old man, lost in his nightmares on the street just another invisible homeless *** in the end of his life
all these phobias overwhelm me
time to walk away from my fears
and realize
it will be alright
everything will be alright
As long as I have you
by my side

Fear Fills the Air

watching the news
CNNMSNBCFOXBBCKOREANNEWSJAPANESENEWSBLOOMBERABCCBSNBCGOOGLEA­PPLEREUTERSAPIRUSSIANTVCHINESTVFRENCHTV
blather on and on
the world is ending
pandemic is coming
we are going to die
and the fear grows
and the restrictions grow
travel comes to stop
the economy comes to  a stop
everyone is so afraid
our leaders fret
say that everything is fine
as the world enters
the second great depression
and we are faced
with the reality
all over the world
idiots in high places
the masters of the universe
are in charge
the internet spreads
the wildest rumors
must be true
I read it on the internet
the truth is lost
in the shuffle
no one believes anyone
everything thinks
that they know
it is all a conspiracy
the thought comes to mind
we are all so ’S….
end of the world
is upon us

is this the best we can get?
watching the news
one wonders
how in this great country
of ours
335 million people
among the most educated
richest people in the world
we can end up
with such idiots in high places
running out country?
these idiots in charge
no disrespect intended
both political parties
all corporations
and our institutions
except maybe the military
has been infected
by this virus
of epic incompetence
greed and indifference
to the general good
who loudly constantly proclaim
that they are Christians
while violating
all of Christ's teachings
Jesus if he came back
would scream out
I am not Christian
it is all about me
and mine
and you can go
to hell
if you dare to disagree
and so we tweet and titter
and watch the news
reading the latest rumors
and I wonder
if there is a god
or if there is a devil
and are we overwhelmed
by the dismal news
why can’t we have better
leaders
better people
in our leaders
around the world
has god abandoned us
are we in hell
or did god ever exist
except in our fevered imagination
will god save us all
or will the world
just go around the sun
indifferent to our pleas?
no answer
must watch the news
consumed by the need
to see the latest news
and so it goes
and I wake up
the sun is up
and the nightmares
fade away
until I watch the news
and the madness consumes
us all again and again
as the corona virus
marches on and on
consuming us all
as the world falls apart
these must be the end times
I hope I will be raptured away
even if I am not a Christian

More Trouble Every Day
The Old Zappa song plays
on in my head
every time I turn on the news
and see more trouble every day
no one can delay
the trouble coming every day
Frank Zappa died too soon
before the horrors of the Trump era
and the corona end of the world plague
that he would have foreseen
if he had lived on
he was truly a prophet
crying in the wildness
while making money
as an over night sensation
as he saw the slime
oozing out of the TV sets
we will do what we are told
for the rights to us have been sold
And Jesus too
has been sold
to the highest bidder
nothing but a business deal
in America
the land of the constant deal
and so I turn off the TV
and realize that
the torture never ends
the torture never ends

Trouble Every Day
more trouble every day  Frank Zappa
Well I'm about to get sick
From watchin' my TV
Been checkin' out the news
Until my eyeballs fail to see
I mean to say that every day
Is just another rotten mess
And when it's gonna change, my friends
Is anybody's guess
So I'm watchin' and I'm waitin'
Hopin' for the best
Even think I'll go to prayin'
Every time I hear 'em sayin'
That there's no way to delay
That trouble comin' every day
No way to delay
That trouble comin' every day
Wednesday I watched the riot...
I seen the cops out on the street
Watched 'em throwin' rocks and stuff
And chokin' in the heat
Listened to reports
About the whisky passin' 'round
Seen the smoke & fire
And the market burnin' down
Watched while everybody
On his street would take a turn
To stomp and smash and bash and crash
And slash and bust…

The Torture Never Stops
Frank Zappa
torture never stops
Flies all green and buzzin'
In this dungeon of despair
Prisoners grumblin
**** they clothes
Scratch their matted hair
A tiny light from a window-hole
Hundred yards away
That all they ever get to know
'Bout the regular life in the day
'Bout the regular life in the day
Slime and rot and rats and snuck
***** on the floor
Fifty ugly soldier men
Holdin' spears by the iron door
Stinks so bad, stones are chokin'
Weepin' greenish drops
In the den where
The giant fire puffer works
And the torture never stops
The torture never stops, torture
The torture never stops
The torture never stops
Flies all green and buzzin'
In this dungeon of despair
An evil prince eats a steamin' pig
In a tumbers right near there
In the chambers right near there
He eats de snouts an trotters first!…


by pass the alarms spreading across the land
to bypass the alarms spreading across the land
the circuit breakers are breaking down
as the alarms go on and on
with the end of the world
the end days approaching
spreading the alarm far and wide

corona cinqku
corona
it came from hell
we must be all prepared
meet God


Taking a Walk in the Corona Era
every day I go for a walk
in the spring time woods
near my house
braving the weather
and the dreaded corona virus
wearing masks and gloves
keeping a distance
from anyone we encounter
that is life it seems
in the era of the corona virus
when will it end
no one knows
until then
I will brave the viral threat
and confront my fears
and walk in the park
with the love of my life
my bride my wife
by my side
in these challenging times
that is all we can do

A lone man stands in an empty parking lot

contemplating the new normal
social distancing run amuck
as fears of the corona super plague
plague the land
driving everyone inside
sheltering in place
afraid to go out
afraid of the deadly c virus

It is a hell of a world we live in ain’t it?
It is a hell of a world we live in ain’t it?
said the old man to me
sitting on a bench
in the park in the woods
as we both sought shelter
from the spreading chaos
the pandemic swirling around us
Yes I said
standing up
to enforce the proper distance
between us
don’t want to give the virus a chance
to spread between us
he smiled and said
relax I already went through it
I am fine and you will too

Pause for a moment amidst the media madness
Pause for a moment amidst the media madness
All around us fears and chaos
Unlike the end of the world approaching us
Sadness overcomes us dooming us to our fate
Every we go nothing but death awaits

I feel as if the whole world needs to be cancelled
I feel as if the whole worldneeds to be canceled
due to rough times ahead
due to the corona madness
and the thread of pure craziness
that it inspires in us all

The Virus King Cried

the virus king smiled
as the politicians lied
saying that the end was near
the virus king infected thousands more
and killed hundreds of people
the virus king sneered
as people panicked
and partied on the beach
the virus king infected thousands more
and killed hundreds of people
the virus king laughed
as the markets crashed
millions became unemployed
the virus king infected thousands more
and killed hundreds of people
the virus king roared
as the world slid into chaos
people turning on one another
the virus king infected thousands more
and killed hundreds of people
the virus king smirked
knowing that there was nothing
that they could do to stop
his army from infecting millions
and killing thousands
the virus King begin to realize
that soon there would be no one left
no one for his army to infect
as everyone was dying
the virus King yelled
remaining defiant
as civilization collapsed
billions were infected
millions died
the Virus King at last cried
when he saw that he was defeated
as one by one
people began to recover
and his reign of terror came to an end

Bring out your dead
the call bring out your dead
spreads around the world
as millions die
all over the world
the virus has spread
mutated and killed
all over the world
bring out your dead
the mournful cries
echoing in the wind
of the dying cities
mass starvation
as no is working
in the fields
as more people die
and the world spins
around the sun
with the politicians lying
and the dead still dying
as civilization dies
and humanity flee
into the wilderness
chased by the killer virus
straight down to hell

the Virus Came From Hell
the virus came from hell
straight out of a mad lab
born and raised in China
the virus spread from Dinah
all over to carolina
it spread from the lab
the mad virus of Hell
was mad as hell at humans
who it blamed for everything
seeing itself as cleansing everything
killing the world and everything
revenge against humans
perhaps virus came from God
more likely came from Satan
part of natures’ revenge
all designed to avenge
the damage to Stonehenge
virus came from Satan

The Delivery System of the Virus is Round
the delivery system of the virus is round
very simple system
the virus spreads around
and all must pay the price
death and destruction

the corona virus is testing us all

the corona virus
is testing us all
is it a plague
sent by God

if we have faith
will we recover

or it is beyond our control
the end of the world

does god hear our prayers
does god even exist

the virus from hell
spreads around the world

and test our faith
will god save us all

I have no answer
but perhaps if god exists

we will recover
from this plague
from hell



The call goes out

the call goes out
stay at home
to beat the dreaded c virus

will we live
or all die?

the four horse men ready to ride

the end of the world is upon us
as god unleashes the corona virus
which is spreading across the land

the four horse men are ready
to begin their grim journal
announcing the end of the world

the white horse comes first
offering peace and hope
in the midst of death
and despair

the red horse rides second
ushering in war
throughout the world
as nations turn on each other
and civil war looms

the Black Horse is ready
unleashing famine
on a starving world
as people stay at home
and food rots in the field

no one is able
to work any more
as the virus kills more
and more

the pale horse rides last
bringing death
in his wake

death all around us
as the virus kills us all
and civilization ends

the four horse men
have done their job
the virus finishes its reign of terror
and the few survivors
beging to recover

end of the world
came and went
and they are still alive
thanks to God

who remains silent
as always

nature spirits revolt against humanity

all around the world
nature's spirits
are on the move

the world is changing
as the nature's spirits
rise up
in revolt against humanity

is this the end time
is nature on revolt
against humanity

is this the end for us all
will the virus **** us all
will nature rise up
and **** us all?

Last Human on Island

Last human on an island
in the deep blue sea
nothing there
but death and destruction

virus all around
pandemic plague
Apocalyptic views
end of times
death of civilization




corona virus

corona virus
staying home waiting for death
Afraid everything  
the virus came from hell

the virus came from hell
staying home waiting for death
Afraid everything  
Bring Out Your Dead

bring out your dead cries
break out all over the world
we are waiting death



death comes knocking

death comes knocking
on our doorsteps tonight
will God hear prayers



be afraid afraid

be afraid afraid
Must be afraid every one
Death is at our door


The Virus Came From Hell


the virus came from Hell
ravaging the entire world
all waiting for death
my take on the corona virus pandemic  for more check out my blog, https://theworldaccordingtocosmos.com
Staff Sgt. Joseph D'Augustine
a proud Jersey son
whom Thou hast blessed
laid in St. Luke’s ground
for his heavenly rest
April 4, 2012

1.

in a far off province of
God forsaken Helmand,
our dear son Joey
met his untimely end

an explosive crack
a most terrible sound
felled a beloved Jersey son
to the cold cruel ground

working the live wires
of a well placed IED
a deathly burst killed him
it was awful to see  

Staff Sgt. Joseph D’Augustine
in solemn duty fell
fellow brothers in arms
will forever reverently tell

of courage and character
of a dear fallen friend
and how the valiant warrior
met with death at his end

for he was always faithful
to his beloved corps
comrades couldn't ask
a valiant marine for more


2.

details of his death
are not the real story
selflessness and bravery
are but part of his glory

is it brash to
question why he fell?
in a useless bitter war
an embroiled senseless hell

a generation mustered
to fight in the war on terror
serving four tours of duty
in a lost decade of errors

two tours in Afghanistan and Iraq
could a nation ask a man for more?
for he was always faithful to the call
upholding pledges he hath sworn

3.

the burden of war
to a  few confined
it rarely crosses
an American’s mind

incessant war machine
drones on apace
the horror of conflict
so cleverly displaced

with afternoon baseball
and super bowl parties
big disco paychecks
and other selfish priorities

pay hollow tribute
to dear weary troops
when valor is mentioned
we gather in groups

we’ll raise the flag
sing stirring anthems
than its back to the party
pay it no more attention

self styled patriots
wave handfuls of flags
but ask them to contribute
the zeal soon lags

its left to the few
to shoulder burdens of many
fairness is lost
its a democratic calamity

four tours in a decade
an inhumane task
burdens require sharing
its only fair to ask

Joey was always faithful
to the task at hand
willing to step forward
to serve his homeland


4.

in the wake of 9/11
a nation deeply shaken
young patriots stirred
liberty’s call not forsaken

a call to serve answered
to quell the rise of terror
a clear clarion alarm
marks the nature of the era

Joey boldly came forward
to train and learn
the art of warriors
his bright patriotism burned

deployed to Afghanistan
to capture Osama
routing the Taliban
without much problem

but a pacified Afghan
not enough for Bush
he invaded Iraq
another military push

we rolled into Baghdad
adorned with victors garlands
Saddam’s statue toppled
our troops were honored

deposing a dictators
soon turned to occupation
a ****** mission transformed
to build the Iraqi and Afghan nations

once honored liberators
now a conquering force
bestriding broken nations
on a civil war course

military industrialists
stood to profit most
sweet protracted conflict
record earnings to boast

lives bartered for lucre
a region held hostage
the conflict deepened
hostilities hardened

America dipped into
a great recession
the war machine
bled money and
kept on ticking

scooping up contracts
rewarding investors
the dividends of war
heaven sent treasure

continuation of hostilities
preys on a nation's youth
as casualties mount
ill portents forsoothed

a fraction of citizens
bare heartaches of war
gulping measures of despair
to guard a nations door

a nation always faithful
to the holy pursuit of profit
a highest citizens calling
put money into your pocket


5.

our beloved Jersey son
gave a full measure of devotion
in dress blues they shipped him
back across the ocean

on the Dover tarmac
they received his remains
for a last ride northward
to his hometown terrain

repatriated body
bereft of soul saluted
solemn escort knelt
hearts trembled, tears muted

a hearse for a gallant man
flanked by state troop cruisers
to escort the funeral train
assure an honored movement

one last trip up
old thunder road
the storied highway
Joey often trod

the last detail legged up 17
reverent firefighters saluted  
from overpasses
to honor  the woeful scene

as the motorcade passed
the Garden State Malls
frenzied consumers
failed to notice at all

busy window shoppers
didn't to turn an eye
as Joey rolled home
to the sweet by and by

vets interred at the
Old Paramus Church
gently stirred in their graves
reasons for war they search

Channel 12 Chopper
circled its eye in the sky
televised the sad parade
captured many teary eyes

the early spring blooms
colorful petals displayed
maples and forsythias
a royal carpet laid

spring remains always faithful
as the new season turns
offer sunshine and glory
as our sinking hearts burn

6.

motorcycle escort
northbound lane clear
rolling homeward
Waldwick was near

leaves exploding
green shoots budding
****** white maple blooms
natures accolades stunning

the oaks yet bare
just waking from slumber
winters death passing
a sad day put asunder

the motorcade passed
Joey’s home on Prospect Ave
few  envision lifes endings
this woefully sad

red chevy pickup idles
in hoop crowned driveway
never to drain jumpers again
departed children can’t play

the eye in the sky
framed neighbors in mourning
welcoming back a fallen hero
unsettled emotions dawning

neighbors waved Old Glory
from painted stoops and curbs
unsure how this tragedy
visits this blessed suburb

green grass of home
always flush with spirit
tears welled in the eyes
most difficult to bear it

last cruise of the town
sad neighbors stand witness
paying final due respects
and ponder from a distance

what purpose is served
by this man’s passing?
the dead cannot speak
rationale is for the living

the terrible herse
death circles our town
moves through our day
hope of spring drowned

murderer of sunshine
killer of young flowers
budding trees breaking
our hearts an ashen pallor

we remember the beauty
of Joey’s stout face
as it looked on your finest day
exuding pure honor and grace

old vets gather
donning caps and pins
boasting semper fi jackets
jutting tear dripping chins

shaking hands, giving hugs
bearing tattered banners
the hearse ambles onward
we head home in solemn manner

good folks are always faithful
where beloved ones grew
the death of our children
we sadly cannot undo


7.

the bells of St. Lukes
called out from the sky
platoons of limping vets
marched in with pride

pomp and circumstance
requisite dress blues
family, friends, townsfolk
overflowed the pews

doleful bells resound
tolling a mournful reckon
the cost of war mounts
a family’s loss beckons

the casualties of war
falls upon a nation's youth
a seasons page not  turned
a flowing wound not soothed

the wistful cornet calling
floats on the fluted air
the bereaved ***** gently sounds
a congregations somber despair

an unsettling dirge
the parish grows uneasy
nationalist bravado wanes
in the forlorn sanctuary

both church and flag
draped in colors of war
mock stain glass windows
communicants adore

is it a betrayal of the flag
to offer enemies
psalms of reconciliation?
where does true loyalty lay
with God or a warring nation?

afterall this is a sanctuary
where peace and harmony reigns
are we not called to beat swords
into ploughshares as the highest
calling of our Lord?

we are always faithful
to the pathways to war
when the practice of peace
is what we should adore

8.

coughing and whispers
incessant low murmur
a baby cries out
we sit and remember

the crucifers process
in solemnity to greet
subtle ***** notes salute
a coffin draped in Old Glory sheets

the beloved child welcomed
to his eternal repose
priests splash holy water
within the sacred dome

an amazing grace revealed
lifted by marine pallbearers
dearly departed body presented
gently placed at the altar

a grief struck sister
lovingly eulogizes
recalls tonka trucks,
GI Joe’s and cool transformers

a punch in the nose
an approaching wedding
beckoning Eastertide
vacation plans left begging

my second grade class sent
Christmas cookies and cards
to dear Joey and warrior friends
he said it warmed stark winter hearts

he was raised in this church
taught trust and reconciliation
the comfort of the Lords peace
may it surely go with him

for he was always faithful
to sisters, family and faith
his resurrection service
imbues sacredness
to this space

9.

sharp in dress blues
Eddie T USMC Gunny
big 50 caliber smile
offers his eulogy

Bada Bing Jersey Humvee
we called him Joey Calzones
good mood, loved sausages
he tickled the funny bone

always willing to sacrifice
loved the Patriots Tom Brady
a women dominated household
gave him a way with the ladies

his calling explosive ordinances
he said he was livin the dream
March 6th last time we met
knocking frost off cold ones
man whatta scream

a gallant marine,
beloved brother,
a sure friend
he was always faithful
I’m deeply wounded
by his untimely end


10.

the gospel read
the homily offered
Ecclesiastes wisdom
a time for everything
proffered

God never turns
an eye from the beloved
though seasons change
we are not forsaken
never unloved

as loss arrives
surely grief grows
turn away not
wisdom knows

in resignation
love lay dead
diligent intention
banishes dread

our rekindled hope
we rend and sow
our beloved Joey
knew this was so

our favorite son’s
example taught us
now rises on eagle’s wings
to claim his divine justice

Jesus faithfully tramped
the path to an awful death
Joey too fought the good fight
a warrior now gratefully at rest

The Lord holds him close
to the ***** of sure love
a cantors beatific voice incants
Joey’s spirit that forever enchants

The Lord is always faithful
to the bereaved and  beloved
no one ever forsaken
all unconditionally loved

11.

the Holy Eucharistic cup
affirms everlasting giving
tasted to nourish evermore
a libation for the living

singing the Beatitudes
praising peace makers
mercy filled voice and song  
pallbearers lift Joey’s coffin

off to seek his final peace
an earthly occupation ended
he’ll suffer worldly hate no more
down the aisle his coffin wended

the family closely followed
a mother haltingly sobbing
faithful marines came forth
to steady her wobbling

there is no sudden waking
from this terrible dream
the pungent incense rose
to the chapels sacred beams

the stained glass murals depict
the passion of Jesus’s story
illuming a consuming sorrow
in all its grace filled glory

the ***** of death slinks on again
we search for consolation
the recompense of honor blest
leaves a hollow heart wanting
no answers offered to quell the dark
of these terrible life’s moments
only the desperate need to hold onto
beleaguered treasure that sustains us

for we are always faithful
to the things we know
always faithful to the
things we refuse to let go

12.

the color guard and funeral detail
assembled in front of St. Luke’s
the cemetery right next door
the procession a short troop

the living will stumble through
the darkness of separation
seeking elusive answers
of poignant uncertainty;
all gave some, Joey gave all
nothing more required for his
journey through eternity

Joey will always be with us
his stories forever retold
as long as the machinery of
great nations engage
the gears of wasteful war

Joey’s spirit lives
in a peoples desire
for freedom, only if
our hope of peace
is greater than the
need for conflict

Joey’s lifes work
is sure to bear fruit
if those remaining
fight the good fight
by taking up the
task to protect and
expand the values
of liberty we
hold most dear

like our good
friend Jesus
Joey wears a crown
bejeweled with
a ring of thorns
hoisted on a
terrible cross
the sweet
incense of you
meets our nose
we inhale your
earthly presence
beholding beautifully
adorned crucifix,
a reminder of
unjust persecution
and a perfect
resurrection
yet this wretched
coffin remains

pledging allegiance
we rationalize our
stories, articulating
our small parts
in  heroic sagas,
reciting myths of
ourselves, recording
the grim history of
a young marine
surrounded by
a smart color guard,
feasting on todays
eucharist, this
days sweet taste
of  the daily bread
of human sorrow

The priest finishes
his graveside
commendation
of Joey D

Taps conclude
a wind rises
crows take flight
winging over
a stand of budding
Sugar Maples
exploding in white
blooms, reveling
in the glorious
sunshine of this
magnificent day

St. Luke’s stairway to
God Country and Home
smiling portrait of you
forever young

we surround your grave
to bless the earth
you've returned home
to your place of birth

our flowing pride
and salty tears bless
the anointed ground
that you loved best

a proud Jersey son
whom Thou hast blest
laid in St. Luke’s ground
for his heavenly rest

for he was always faithful
to the blessed land
forever at peace
in the soils sure hands

Charles Ives
The Unanswered Question

Oakland
11/10/13
jbm
Nat Lipstadt Jan 2017
Yom Kippur this year was celebrated on Oct. 12th 2016.
Leonard Cohen passed away on November 7, 2016.


~~~

faint knocking at the door to the Tower of Song

the ministering angels, hearing a rhythmic, lyrical rapping,
sigh, thinking the atonement day,
the holiday/holy days, are supposedly over,
the human balancing act, the rush to judgement period,
all tallies totaled, the busy sale season for souls,
at last completed, each fate inscribed & sealed,
in the book of life^

but, always one,
the itinerant straggler, the last reluctant sinner, a judgment resister,
flaunting an expired coupon, trumpeting demands for a recount,
waving it, claiming it, the bearer, entitled to a mercy discount and
an extra 30 days

"who shall we say is calling?"

the Angels are stunned to hear,
a familiar raspy, growling, almost indescribable,
yet, stammeringly, beautiful voice enchanting,
equally asking and answering,  how both,
with a strident humility, "a man in search of answers"

this voice, instantaneous recognizable,
the asking superfluous,
all beating wings now, all in vast excitement,
this psalmist, long awaited, one of His best,
a chosen one, a courtly singer in the Temple of his people,
blessed with the curse of seeing and believing,
the comprehension of beauty of the human superior interior,
never being quiet or quite satisfied,
in capturing, its multifarious variations,
in every language spoken

this is the man who took ten years
to compose just
one song,
one poem,
one word,
Hallelujah,
whose faith was strong,
but still needed proofs,
whose every breath of oxygen inhalation,
brought more questions,
every exhalation, only releasing partial answers,
and yet, still, yes, yes! finding hidden verses inside

a simple, everlasting
hallelujah

the hubbub subsides, the man sings~speaks:
how came I here,
was I one, who by fire?
that fire afeared,  that my finality was spirit consumer?

one voice, answers,
in one voice, the swaying back-up singers answer,
not by fire, not by water, not by stoning or
even drowning
in tea that came from all the way from China

when sing we Angels, the Judgement Day poem,
we alone, on high and above,
we, keepers of the books and records of everyone,
are permitted this to query:

Who by Sufficiency?

you, the sidekick of the creator,
special commissioned by him, anointed to live a life of research,
record in word and song the mysteries of musical gene strings,
that intertwine the skin cells of man and woman,
man and his fellow us-human,
your soul commandeered, ordered, delve deeper,
into the consolable chasm tween divine and mortals,
all those who are poorly constructed
in his image

he, who has earned his place, his best rest,
his works adjudged sufficient,
he, who best answered
this judging,
this calling out,
calling in
incantation,

Who by Sufficiency?

now forward on, write only of answers,
wade in the troubled waters no more,
no more passports, or borders to cross,
no more measuring the days,
the last road trip finale
finished & feted,
fate meted

no more changing thy name, changeling priest,^^
sing songs of solution, salvation,
for the questioning hours of confusion,
the urgency of revolution,
no longer need a hallelujah resolution


                                                    ­| | |
Who By Fire                             Who By Fire, Who By Water:^
(lyrics by Leonard Cohen)     (A Yom Kippur Hebrew Prayer)

who by fire                             How many shall die and      

who by water,                                how many shall born,
Who in the sunshine,                 Who shall live      
who in the night time,                   who shall die,                      
Who by high                                Who at the measure of days,
who by common trial,                    and who before,
Who in your merry                            
                                                          Who by fire
month of May,                                 and who by water
Who by very                                 Who by sword,
slow decay,                                       and who by wild beasts,
And who shall I                      Who by hunger,
say is calling?                              and who by thirst,

And who in her,                           Who by earthquake
lonely slip,                                         and who by plague
who by barbiturate,                      Who by strangling,
Who in these                                    and who by stoning
realms of love,                               Who shall have rest,

who by,                                             and who shall go wandering,
something blunt,                            Who will be tranquil,
And who by avalanche,                  and who shall be harassed,
who by powder,                            Who shall be at ease,
Who for his greed,                           and who shall be afflicted,
who for his hunger,                      Who shall become rich,
And who shall I,                             and who shall become poor,
say is calling?                                Who will be raised high,
                                                         ­     and who will be brought low
And who by brave assent,                  
who by accident,
Who in solitude,
who in this mirror,
Who by,
his lady's command,
who by his own hand,
Who in mortal chains,
who in power,
And who shall I,
say is calling?




^From the liturgy of Rosh Hasanah, the Jewish New Year and Yom Kippur, the  Day of Atonement, there is this truly stunning prayer (https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Unetanneh_Tokef) in the Jewish liturgy. The Book of Life contents the fate of every sinner. From the first day of the new year, until ten days later, on Yom Kippur, depending on whether the sinner repents or not, his fate is sealed.
Yom Kippur this year was celebrated on Oct. 12th 2016.

Leonard Cohen passed away on November 7, 2016.

^^"A Kohens ancestors were priests in the Temple of Jerusalem. A single such priest was known as a Kohen, and the hereditary caste descending from these priests is collectively known as the Kohanim.[2] As multiple languages were acquired through the Jewish diaspora, the surname acquired many variations." Today, with no temple, the limited role of the Kohanim is to bless the Jewish people on the high holy days with a  special prayer with abeloved tune,  instantly evocative (see wikipedia.org/wiki/Priestly_Blessing) The Kohanim are still revered, honored, and always called up first to the Sabbath reading of the weekly portion of the Old Testament

A thank you to Bex for proofing and encouragement.
Part I of a trilogy
For a  more detailed analysis of the roots of the song, "Who By Fire," and its origins, see:
_____________________________________________
http://www.leonardcohen-prologues.com/who_by_fire.htm

He worked on the song Hallelujah, arguably his most famous composition, for ten years.
anne p murray Apr 2013
I seem to have lived my life in thrice written scrolls
flowing throughout the eternal winds in bits and pieces of torn paper
I’ve searched my heart for you my love ~ I’ve sent your name to the stars
Sending it throughout the Universe - floating across the essence of time

I seek my heart’s desire~ bidding him to send the mysteries of his soul
I search and search ~ oh, there must be more...
Is that you knocking at my door?

Why is love so hidden?
We think it has arrived, only to find it was not for our  heart ~ our soul
In my dreams you’ve come a thousand times
Your spirit sings...
I’m aroused by the gentleness of your touch
I feel the passion of your caress ~ my heart keeps searching

My soul yearns for the sweet taste of your kiss
Where are you  my love...there must be more
Is that you knocking at my door?

You sleep in the recesses of my mind - my heart
Come fill the emptiness within - draw me into your warm embrace
I’ll wait a lifetime ... there must be more
“Shh”…
Is that you knocking at my door?
Michal Czechak Apr 2016
[Author's Note: These are song lyrics.]

When I'm pining for the power to yield
Breaking all the branches I seize
Acres for the taking in a forest of mistakes
I can't see for the trees

I level
With the shallow playing field
Dreaming up a blueprint to floor you
Delicately drafting
Inconspicuously crafting
The grand facade before you

Where my art lies

The best is underwhelming
When it comes to helping
How I promised I woul...

So I'm peeking past the pitch of my prime
Modeling the modern stage
Perforating patience with a paradox
In place of where the sophist meets the sage

I level
With the hallowed bottom line
Hopeful like the point of a nail
Architecture fractures
In apocalyptic rapture
Where false frameworks prevail

There my heart lies

The beat is overwhelming
When it comes to helping
How I swore I could

I guess I'm knocking on wood
Knock knock knocking on wood

Excess
Will not lead to progress
Will not let me access
What I learned I should
Rid me of

Termites
Crawling into airtight
Trademarks of my disguise
Make me decide I'm good

When I'm just knocking on wood
Knock knock knocking on wood
Knock knock knocking on wood


© Michal Czechak 2016
g Aug 2013
When I get here, don't ever ask me to leave.
I'm not saying I won't ever leave just that I can make up my own mind
and I've been a long time coming
and you can pack my bags for me if that's what you want,
I was never one for folding,
for folding,
for folding creases,
for creasing folds down the middle like I was waiting to be split in two,
I am waiting for you to split me in two,
split me in two,
split me in two,
cut me in half and all you will find are mirrors.
Your face staring back at you. Jagged edges so I could feel you from the inside out,
feel you,
feel you,
finally feel you.
I've been knocking at your door,
staring through your windows every time I had your door shut in my face,
knocking on your walls,
knocking,
knocking down your walls,
cracking your safe so that you know
when the sky seems like the most solid thing around you,
that you are always a porch light.
You are a struck match, a roaring flame and I am orange, fully open,
I can always be your accident.
You are the oldest thing in the universe made new for me,
a lens,
my left hand,
my right hand,
my arms, clutching hold of my wrists
so I can feel your heartbeat in my fingers,
your pulse a busker, singing only for me when the clocks have stopped and the lights turned out
and we've been waiting at this door for too long.
And I'm just stuck at my boarding gate,
halfway across the world and you're still dragging behind
like it's all too fast
and all I can tell myself is that I would always drown in you.
I will always choke on your words so I can taste them in my mouth,
taste you in my mouth, like a warzone,
taste everything you've ever said, ever been.
I will make up my own mind. I will keep you in mind.
Keep me in your mind like a cemetery.
I'm a long time coming.
grace beadle 2013
vic Apr 2016
Dear Addiction, could you please stop knocking on my door?
        I already have your ***** syringes scattered about my floor.
               You keep on telling me that I want more
        But I’m not very sure.
When you pierce my skin everything stills
        Even though I hate it it feels so much better than the pills
                I don’t want to do anything you have taken my will
        Not only that, you’ve taken everything, including all of my dollar bills
I know that feeling of dry mouth too well.
        They tell me that I can stop but honestly, I can’t tell
                Right now it seems like the only way out of this is a bullet shell
         I don’t know why I crave you when you bring me so much hell
When you crawl your way back into my veins
        Those first hits of pleasure make me go insane
                I start to remember why I got on this crazy train
        But then I remember just how badly you’ve ****** up my brain
I wish I could get your illness out of my head.
        They tell me that I am one twentieth of a gram from ending up dead
                Yet no matter how many warnings are said
        You seem to be the only reason to get out of bed.
I have lied for you.
         I have ****** for you.
                I have done for many awful things for you.
         And I will most likely die because of you.
Dear Addiction, why do you make this so tough?
        They say that abusive relationships aren’t made out of love
                And I know the way you treat me is rough
        But I cannot help what I love.
They say that all you do is harm.
        Yet when my happiness comes into me through a needle in my arm
                And my brain tells me that I should be alarmed
        All I can do is crave your harm.
Your harm makes me feel like I am whole.
        But it also seems to drag me further into the hole.
                It seems that you have taken my soul
        Getting you out of my life is a faraway goal.
Dear Addiction, you’ve hit me with a huge smack.
        You’ve shown me how easy it is for life to get out of whack
                I probably should have stopped before your first attack
        But you had seen to put my life back on track.
Dear Addiction, you fill up my hunger.
        But at the same time I’m starting to feel more and more like a jumper
                I hate you more than I’ve hated any other
       You are my most hated lover.
Dear Addiction,
         I’m giving you an eviction.
                I never even gave you any permission
         To take away my ambitions.
Dear Addiction, I want to send you away.
         But you are still knocking at the door where I stay
                You always do know how to get your way.
        Time to go back to my decay.
Dear Addiction
        Stop ******* knocking. I’m coming!
Senteno Oracle Of The Shadows: So Aziel what's your plan with Frank?
Aziel: Well he is going to help me destroy the Order Of The Silver Knights and in return I shall help him get the Witch who cursed the Forest Of Whispers.
Senteno Oracle Of The Shadows: Well I'll give you some valuable information who your looking for is Bethilda N. Lement. She is a very powerful Witch who with her Elemental Plowness is able to obtain what she wants.
Aziel: Well well ...so the Old Hag still holds the grip over the Forest doesn't she
Senteno Oracle Of The Shadows: Indeed she isn't someone to take lightly now she is well rounded and knows how to fight. She controls The Tavern Of Doom Dragons. In her possession are 3 fully grown Dragons. Blair the Oldest Dragon Claire The Mother Dragon and Aurora the youngest one of them three.
Blair the Black Dragon Claire The White Dragon and Aurora the Stone/Lighting Dragon. Many have meet their doom entering in her territory Cyclop Human and Vampire Alike.
Aziel: I don't have anything to fear.

~Meanwhile...~

Bethilda Lement: Adreanna I want you to learn more about my Dragons start training with Aurora but be cautious she may be only three years old but she is powerful and robust. Lement screeches then Aurora hovers over the Mountain Of Shen* where the Tavern Of Doom Dragons is located. Adrianna Develve places a strong spell in the Dragon Aurora she finally succumbs to her authority.
Adrianna and Aurora go take down the Golem Of Steel  in the Hidden Ruins Of Odom.* The Golem stands 15 ft high weighs 2,500 pounds. Holding a crest of an almost impenetrable diamond in the middle of his chest. Emanating from the Crystal comes all his power and it's his only weak spot. Then Aurora and Adrianna make an impressionable entrance to the ruins and attack the Golem head on. Golem Of Steel: Here stands the infamous Adrianna Develve...well isn't  this a surprise.  I see that you have grown some and are able to maintain your powers well to face me. I know what you want you want the Crystal in my chest...that will be over my dead body. Audon's Crystal* is powerful enough to consume 1000 Well Trained Witches therefore young Witch you don't scare me. Now as for that Dragon well ... perhaps you stand a chance after all.  Adrianna Develve: I usually don't pick fights with powerful DemiGods like yourself but I  am in desperate need for your Crystal. Therefore, you will hand it over or I'll take it by force.  Golem Of Steel:  Good Luck.
Aurora shields herself with Stone Armor and goes head on collision with the Golem. He dodges the attack and  counterattacks with a strong fist to the  Dragons body and knocks Aurora down cracking part of her Stone Armor. The young female Dragon counterattacks with a powerful lighting blast hitting The Steel Golem in the right shoulder injuring him. Develve attacks with a powerful mind blast knocking down the Golem Of Steel on it's back. The Golem Of Steel bleeds blue blood out of his shoulder blade and runs full force towards Adrianna Develve.  She  dashes the attack and counterattacks  with a Shadow Ball attack hitting him in the chest and expanding all over its body. It's a possession Ninjutsu technique making him practically paralyzed for about 2 minutes till he breaks free from the technique but sustains a considerable amount of damage. Adrianna Develve seeing that the Golem Of Steel is showing a sign of weakness she takes advantage to try to inflict him with a spear of lighting into the chest impairing him and he bleeds out the mouth but as the last resolution The Golem Of Steel punches the Audon Crystal shattering it into 5 individual pieces him losing his life in the process however what he didn't know is that Adrianna Develve collected all the pieces however there was a violent explosion at the site shattering huge boulders of steel and inflicting Aurora gravely. Adrianna Develve  hurries and performs a powerful healing spell leaving her drained of all power. Adrianna Develve hurries to get out of the ruins because they are crumbling down. She manages to recover Aurora briefly from there they fly to The Tavern Of Doom Dragons Of Doom Dragons right when she pulls in with Aurora who is injured from the boulders hitting her body and face at high velocity even the Rock Armor was perforated. The Dragon lands barely with Adrianna Develve who gets the Wrath of Granny Bethilda N. Lement. Aurora breathing heavily and bleeding out the mouth slipping in and out of consciousness ...Adrianna Develve barely getting off the Dragon.
Bethilda Lement: What the hell  happened to Aurora she is in really bad shape. Adrianna your completely drained I see you did good by healing her however, she must rest for about 3-4 days now and fully recover from that gruesome fight with that **** Golem Of Steel. Adrianna are you Ok darling? Go get some rest I see you used the forbidden technique of Soul Healing Transfer. Well now you'll live 12 years less thanks to your little sharede. Develve I am thankful that you saved my Dragon from dying but hell consequences are quite dire.
Develve: Here Granny Lement I got Audon's Diamond however it's shattered in 5 separate pieces.
Bethilda N. Lement:  Let me guess the Golem Of Steel did not want this to fall under the wrong hands for it is a powerful relic. Smart move buying time however, useless due to the fact that we got the diamond under our possession. Adrianna we are going to search the Master Forger Of Relics* who can aid us recover this valuable relic to it's original state. It's said that he resides in one of the headquarters of the Order however, he has worked with Witches, Pagans and Nacromancers before so am sure that as long as we provide the right monetary value to repair the relic he'll work for us.
Develve: Why don't we just kidnap him and make him do the work or he pays with his life?
Lement:  Good objective it may have to work that way for us.
Develve: Im aware that the Cyclop population in the Village Of Chalekathan are not taking your threats seriously well ElderLord Gromm has not paid his fee from allowing them to live and not be consumed by the curse itself.
Lement: By killing him we can set an example of what can happen to them if they don't cooperate with our cause.
Develve: It dangerous though he is a strong Leader with lots of powerful influences. Plus he is a highly skilled Witch Doctor/Shaman able to manipulate the forces of nature. Known to use 3 Godly Deities Aikune Chalekathan & Eion. Aikune the cherubim of the Northern Side Of Heaven. Chalekathan the Spirit God embodiment of The Forest Of Whispers and last but not least Eion the mythical creature with an Eagle face 6 wings and the body of a Lion. Embuted with heavenly essence making him a very formidable foe.
Develve:  We will take care of our responsibilities soon but our primary mission is to talk Ayeiton Balderoux III* the Master Forger Of Relics.
: Whoa had no idea he was The Kings kin.
Lement: Indeed he is now go and lay your head and recover some energy because we need to practice your magical plowness.
Adrianna heads towards the Guest Room.

~Meanwhile in The Forest Of Whispers~
Frank Deltoro gets introduced to Gromm ElderLord Of Chalekathan by Jhino.  He also introduces Navarro Castleworth who is pleased to meet the famous Elder.
Gromm: Hello young man I am the protector of this village which has sustained numerous attacks by Lement's Dragons. Develve also partook enthusiastically with her Grandmother in attacking innocent hard working Cyclops. Making them slaves of the Curse which drives them mad and homicidal attacking friends brothers and family so we had to do the inevitable put them down.
Nevertheless, I pray to Deynave Dion High Saint/Priestess Queen Of All Shamanism to protect the lost souls of them Cyclops who fought the curse till the very end but unfortunately lost the fight and in turn lost their lives.
Frank: My condolences to your friends ElderLord Gromm.Am sure they in a better place now at least not suffering. However, I have a personal matter to score with Lement. She kidnapped and murdered my only daughter 10 years ago she was a...his voice gets trembly and he lightly clears his throat..at the same time a solid solo tear drops from his only Eye symbolizing a Fathers great pain and suffering from such an atrocious act." Gromm regains his composure. I got a personal score to settle with Mrs.Lement due to the fact that she took a piece of my heart and soul she killed my daughter. Develve played her part in the kidnapping of my baby girl 10 years ago she would be 18 years old today if Shaila Dair Sultran were alive...her appointed time to be brutally killed by my hand is coming...Bethilda N. Lement has been suppressing her powers for the last 300 years I believe she has some sort of powerful anti-chi barrier put up extending tremendous lengths so even if she is active in The Forest Of Whispers we wouldn't know how to tell due to this **** barrier.
Frank: So your bloodline comes from the Ancient times from the powerful Cyclop Of Royal Priests/Witch Doctors family Sultran.
"A gentle wind blows and Aziel telepathically communicates with Frank.  Aziel: Frank, be careful where you thread I been informed that Lement's Grand-Daughter Adrianna Develve recently gathered Audon's Crystal a powerful diamond known to give its user Bending Steel abilities and higher sustainability. Adrianna Develve has plans to use the Crystal to fully cover the Forest Of Whispers covering every inch of Forest with the Curse which drives all living creatures with a conscious mad totally subseptable to their influence.
However, to you those must be terrible news so my question is...you been in Chalekathan Village for 1 hr and a half you have 5.3 hrs till daylight removing the Darkness powers you currently control.
Frank: I am aware of this Aziel don't worry I'll take care of business.
Aziel: Keep an eye out Navarro I don't  trust him I don't know what intentions he has...plus he is part  of that shady Tower Of Frejoird but perhaps you can use his hatred towards the Order Of The Silver Knights. He can maybe be a reliable source. Be careful Frank.

~Meanwhile in Aziel Castle~
Isis: Well...Aziel aren't  you such a concerned individual...I didn't  know you had a soft spot towards mere humans.
Aziel: I usually don't...but Frank is different from the rest. He is courageous trustworthy and he put his life at risk by helping me regain all my vampiric power. I am in much debt to him...am having second thoughts on your plans to **** him after he completes his assignments that we have agreed upon. If he makes it out alive after all this...he at least deserves a reward and to live.
Isis: Chuckles at Aziel Aziel looks at the Empress with great focus.
Isis: C'mon I'll just have some fun with Frank I wasn't planning to ****** him.
Aziel: I'll  think about it now leave me be I got couple of things I need to take care of.
Isis: Fine Darling I'll  leave you be. You know you are the handsomest of all the brothers you have.
Aziel: Well now Isis you flirting with me...I doubt you'll want my erected tool up your stash. Don't you remember am a Vampire?
Isis: I'm aware of that. Adventure sounds fun plus I never had *** with a hot vampire like yourself.
Isis: Well Doll that is going to be some other time I am working against the clock right now.
Isis: Fine you *****...I'll leave. However, keep in mind that Im watching you closely. Plus remember I still keep contact with DarkLord for soon your Father will be back in this plane of reality.
Aziel: So I have heard.
Isis: Well I have found some juicy
Information about Uriels wereabouts he is in a Modern Castle in America. Amelia St and Cross. Residency 106. He is a huge celebrity in Russia and Germany. Keeps his bloodlust at check with fresh blood always for him to self medicate. Looking only 19 years old he is quite the chick magnet though not my taste his Gothic Progressive Horror Rock made him quite famous. Got 5 albums however kept his personal life well hidden from his fans. Many fake and supportive accounts claiming to know the real Uriel Governale. Though no one truly knows he is a vampire for certain. I know because I searched the private records and found out that he belongs to a High Ranking Secret Society known as Maximillion Vampire Clan. Which performs innocent human babies to be given as a sacrifice towards Baphomet and Azmodeus* 2 Of the Demon Lords of Hell. Your brother belongs to this hidden organization that operates in the Shadows but their latest project is to revive your Father the Progenitor most infamous VampireLord of all time. Dracula! Humanity will cease to exist if he were to be revived. All they need is a vial of blood from all of the current 8 saints and they have their eye on Saint Lauren Glennwald from the Eastern Side of Germany from a small rural community town known as Hertzentmort. She currently 25 years old is on a mission to collect Papal papers for the Order for you know they are closely tied to the papalcy. However, she got body guards that are Elite Knights with very powerful Anti-Witch spells and very accurate at pinpointing weak points in any battle with powerful Witches. So going alone isn't very advisable.<br>
Aziel: I greatly appreciate your information I'll take a look on what my little brother is looking to do. I'll take care of him. Don't you worry I'll be seeing you later. <br>
Isis: Alright..."She steps towards Aziel and rubs his chest and says...my reward is waiting for me...and looks down his pants" <br>
Aziel:  Now your tempting me to destroy that *****... but here this is what you'll get "he shows her his ****"<br>
Isis: Mmmm I can't wait baby...well that's a massive apparatus you got in there just hiding.<br>
Aziel: Hahaha...right. Soon enough I'll be all yours to play with. No leave me.<br>
Isis transforms to a cloud of dark myst and leaves the premises of the Castle.<br>
<br>
~Meanwhile in Uriel's Castle~<br>
<br>
The Maximillion Vampire Club had a secret meeting in the Uriel's Castle. There where many prestigious and famous guests there and so was the Highest Ranking Vampire of the Club Maximillion Virgil Vann himself. Inside the Castle where also uninvited guests from The Order Of The Silver Knights pretending to be Vampires. His name Michael Neil Stalwart & his partner Aalyaah Black. Both of them infiltrated the party somehow the Order Of The Silver Knights caught wind of shady operations in the occult club and decided to check it out. Michael & Aalyaah belong to Stealth/Infiltration part of the Order known as The Dark Ones
. Even the last 5 remaining Dark Priests from the Cathedral Of Skylor* where 13 years ago Baphomet was revived and mortalized to walk upon humans granting favors for a price. Ultimately the price Demon Lords require of humans is their souls to consume them and become more powerful. This 5 Dark Priests where very important in the ceremony taking place because tonight at 3 a.m. they will unify their powers to revive Azmodeus. They were successful on bringing back Baphomet back to life so they are trying to revive another Demon Lord. In Baphomet's revival they used 666 unborn fetuses with 6 babies 3 male and 3 female all born under the sign of Capricorn and all must be 3 months premature. With this requirements met...Baphomet was revived to this plane of existence, however since he was violent and still hellbent from transitioning from the hellish plane to a mortal one he killed and consumed 3 Dark Priests in the process of fully coming to his senses and being able to recognize them and thank them for what they done. Baphomet promised that he would aid them 5 Dark Priests revive all 13 Demon Lords and in turn 2 Of the 5 remaining Dark Priests must sacrifice themselves to the Demon Lords for the strongest remaining 3 get a extraordinary reward.
A PLAY


BY



ALEXANDER   K   OPICHO









THE CASTE
1. Chenje – Old man, father of Namugugu
2. Namugugu – Son of Chenje
3. Nanyuli – daughter of Lusaaka
4. Lusaaka – Old man, father of Nanyuli
5. Kulecho – wife of Lusaaka
6. Kuloba – wife of Chenje
7. Paulina – Old woman, neighbour to Chenje.
8. Child I, II and III – Nanyuli’s children
9. Policeman I, II and III
10. Mourners
11. Wangwe – a widowed village pastor

















ACTING HISTORY
This play was acted two times, on 25th and 26th December 2004 at Bokoli Roman Catholic Church, in Bokoli sub- location of Bungoma County in the western province of Kenya. The persons who acted and their respective roles are as below;

Wenani Kilong –stage director
Alexander k Opicho – Namugugu
Judith Sipapali Mutivoko- Nanyuli
Saul Sampaza Mazika Khayongo- Wangwe
Paul Lenin Maondo- Lusaaka
Peter Wajilontelela-  Chenje
Agnes Injila -  Kulecho
Beverline Kilobi- Paulina
Milka Molola Kitayi- Kuloba
Then mourners, children and police men changed roles often. This play was successfully stage performed and stunned the community audience to the helm.













PLOT
Language use in this play is not based on Standard English grammar, but is flexed to mirror social behaviour and actual life as well as assumptions of the people of Bokoli village in Bungoma district now Bungoma County in Western province of Kenya.

























ACT ONE
Scene One

This scene is set in Bokoli village of Western Kenya. In Chenje’s peasant hut, the mood is sombre. Chenje is busy thrashing lice from his old long trouser Kuloba, sitting on a short stool looking on.

Chenje: (thrashing a louse) these things are stubborn! The lice. You **** all of them today, and then tomorrow they are all-over. I hate them.
Kuloba: (sending out a cloud of smoke through her tobacco laden pipe). Nowadays I am tired. I have left them to do to me whatever they want (coughs) I killed them they were all over in my skirt.
Chenje: (looking straight at Kuloba) Do you know that they are significant?
Kuloba: What do they signify?
Chenje: Death
Kuloba: Now, who will die in this home? I have only one son. Let them stop their menace.
Chenje: I remember in 1968, two months that preceded my father’s death, they were all over. The lice were in every of my piece of clothes. Even the hat, handkerchief. I tell you what not!
Kuloba: (nodding), Yaa! I remember it very well my mzee, I had been married for about two years by then.
Chenje: Was it two years?
Kuloba: (assuringly) yes, (spots a cockroach on the floor goes at it and crushes it with her finger, then coughs with heavy sound) we had stayed together in a marriage for two years. That was when people had began back-biting me that I was barren. We did not have a child. We even also had the jiggers. I can still remember.
Chenje: Exactly (crashes a louse with his finger) we also had jiggers on our feet.
Kuloba: The jiggers are very troublesome. Even more than the lice and weevils.  
Chenje: But, the lice and jiggers, whenever they infest one’s home, they usually signify impending death of a family member.
Kuloba: Let them fail in Christ’s name. Because no one is ripe for death in this home. I have lost my five children. I only have one child. My son Namugugu – death let it fail. My son has to grow and have a family also like children of other people in this village. Let whoever that is practicing evil machinations against my family, my only child fail.
Chenje: (putting on the long-trouser from which he had been crushing lice) let others remain; I will **** them another time.
Kuloba: You will never finish them (giggles)
Chenje: You have reminded me, where is Namugugu today? I have not seen him.
Kuloba: He was here some while ago.
Chenje: (spitting out through an open window) He has become of an age. He is supposed to get married so that he can bear grand children for me. Had I the grand children they could even assist me to **** lice from my clothes. (Enters Namugugu) Come in boy, I want to talk to you.
Kuloba: (jokingly) you better give someone food, or anything to fill the stomach before you engages him in a talk.
Namugugu: (looks, at both Chenje and Kuloba, searchingly then goes for a chair next to him)
Mama! I am very hungry if you talk of feeding me, I really get thrilled (sits at a fold-chair, it breaks sending him down in a sprawl).
Kuloba: (exclaims) wooo! Sorry my son. This chair wants to **** (helps him up)
Namugugu: (waving his bleeding hand as he gets up) it has injured my hand. Too bad!
Chenje: (looking on) Sorry! Dress your finger with a piece of old clothes, to stop that blood oozing out.
Namugugu: (writhing in pain) No it was not a deep cut. It will soon stop bleeding even without a piece of rag.
Kuloba: (to Namugugu) let it be so. (Stands) let me go to my sweet potato field. There are some vivies, I have not harvested, I can get there some roots for our lunch (exits)
Chenje: (to Namugugu) my son even if you have injured your finger, but that will not prevent me from telling you what I am supposed to.
Namugugu: (with attention) yes.
Chenje: (pointing) sit to this other chair, it is safer than that one of yours.
Namugugu: (changing the chair) Thank you.
Chenje: You are now a big person. You are no longer an infant. I want you to come up with your own home. Look for a girl to marry. Don’t wait to grow more than here. The two years you have been in Nairobi, were really wasted. You could have been married, may you would now be having my two grand sons as per today.
Namugugu: Father I don’t refuse. But how can I marry and start up a family in a situation of extreme poverty? Do you want me to start a family with even nothing to eat?
Chenje: My son, you will be safer when you are a married beggar than a wife- less rich-man. No one is more exposed as a man without a wife.
Namugugu: (looking down) father it is true but not realistic.
Chenje: How?
Namugugu: All women tend to flock after a rich man.
Chenje: (laughs) my son, may be you don’t know. Let me tell you. One time you will remember, maybe I will be already dead by then. Look here, all riches flock after married men, all powers of darkness flock after married men and even all poverty flock after married. So, it is just a matter of living your life.
(Curtains)
SCENE TWO

Around Chenje’s hut, Kuloba and Namugugu are inside the hut; Chenje is out under the eaves. He is dropping at them.
Namugugu: Mama! Papa wants to drive wind of sadness permanently into my sail of life. He is always pressurizing me to get married at such a time when I totally have nothing. No food, no house no everything. Mama let me actually ask you; is it possible to get married in such a situation?
Kuloba: (Looking out if there is any one, but did not spot the eaves-dropping Chenje).
Forget. Marriage is not a Whiff of aroma. My son, try marriage in poverty and you will see.
Namugugu: (Emotionally) Now, if Papa knows that I will not have a happy married life, in such a situation, where I don’t have anything to support myself; then why is he singing for my marriage?
Kuloba: (gesticulating) He wants to mess you up the way he messed me up. He married me into his poverty. I have wasted away a whole of my life in his poverty. I regret. You! (Pointing) my son, never make a mistake of neither repeating nor replicating poverty of this home into your future through blind marriage.
Namugugu: (Approvingly) yes Mama, I get you.

Kuloba: (Assertively) moreover, you are the only offspring of my womb             (touching her stomach) I have never eaten anything from you. You have never bought me anything even a headscarf alone. Now, if you start with a wife will I ever benefit anything from you?
Namugugu: (looking agog) indeed Mama.
Kuloba: (commandingly) don’t marry! Women are very many. You can marry at any age, any time or even any place. But it is very good to remember child-price paid by your mother in bringing you up. As a man my son, you have to put it before all other things in your life.
Namugugu: (in an affirmative feat) yes Mama.
Kuloba: It is not easy to bring up a child up to an age when in poverty. As a mother you really suffer. I’ve suffered indeed to bring you up. Your father has never been able to put food on the table. It has been my burden through out. So my son, pleased before you go for women remember that!
Namugugu: Yes Mama, I will.
(Enters Chenje)
Chenje: (to Kuloba) you old wizard headed woman! Why do you want to put    my home to a full stop?
Kuloba: (shy) why? You mean you were not away? (Goes out behaving shyly)

Chenje: (in anger to Namugugu) you must become a man! Why do you give your ears to such toxic conversations? Your mother is wrong. Whatever she has told you today is pure lies. It is her laziness that made her poor. She is very wrong to festoon me in any blame…. I want you to think excellently as a man now. Avoid her tricky influence and get married. I have told you finally and I will never repeat telling you again.

Namugugu: (in a feat of shyness) But Papa, you are just exploding for no good reason, Mama has told me nothing bad……………………
Chenje: (Awfully) shut up! You old ox. Remove your ears from poisonous mouths of old women!
(Enters Nanyuli with an old green paper bag in her hand. Its contents were bulging).
Nanyuli: (knocking) Hodii! Hodii!
Chenje: (calmly) come in my daughter! Come in.
Nanyuli: (entering) thank you.
Chenje: (to Namugugu) give the chair to our visitor.
Namugugu: (shyly, paving Nanyuli to sit) Karibu, have a sit please.
Nanyuli: (swinging girlishly) I will not sit me I am in a hurry.
Chenje: (to Nanyuli) just sit for a little moment my daughter. Kindly sit.
Nanyuli: (sitting, putting a paper-bag on her laps) where is the grandmother who is usually in this house?
Chenje: Who?
Nanyuli: Kuloba, the old grandmother.
Namugugu: She has just briefly gone out.
Chenje: (to Nanyuli) she has gone to the potato field and Cassava field to look for some roots for our lunch.
Nanyuli: Hmm. She will get.
Chenje: Yes, it is also our prayer. Because we’re very hungry.
Nanyuli: I am sure she will get.
Chenje: (to Nanyuli) excuse me my daughter; tell me who your father is?
Nanyuli: (shyly) you mean you don’t know me? And me I know you.
Chenje: Yes I don’t know you. Also my eyes have grown old, unless you remind
me, I may not easily know you.
Nanyuli: I am Lusaaka’s daughter
Chenje: Eh! Which Lusaka? The one with a brown wife? I don’t know… her name is Kulecho?
Nanyuli: Yes
Chenje: That brown old-mother is your mother?
Nanyuli: Yes, she is my mother. I am her first – born.
Chenje: Ooh! This is good (goes forward to greet her) shake my fore-limb my
daughter.

Nanyuli: (shaking Chenje’s hand) Thank you.
Chenje: I don’t know if your father has ever told you. I was circumcised the same year with your grand-gather. In fact we were cut by the same knife. I mean we shared the same circumciser.
Nanyuli: No, he has not yet. You know he is always at school. He never stays at home.
Chenje: That is true. I know him, he teaches at our mission primary school at Bokoli market.
Nanyuli: Yes.
Chenje: What is your name my daughter?
Nanyuli: My name is Loisy Nanyuli Lusaaka.
Chenje: Very good. They are pretty names. Loisy is a Catholic baptismal name, Nanyuli is our Bukusu tribal name meaning wife of an iron-smith and Lusaaka is your father’s name.
Nanyuli: (laughs) But I am not a Catholic. We used to go to Catholic Church upto last year December. But we are now born again, saved children of God. Fellowshipping with the Church of Holy Mountain of Jesus christ. It is at Bokoli market.
Chenje: Good, my daughter, in fact when I will happen to meet with your father, or even your mother the brown lady, I will comment them for having brought you up under the arm of God.
Nanyuli: Thank you; or even you can as well come to our home one day.
Chenje: (laughs) actually, I will come.
Nanyuli: Now, I want to go
Chenje: But you have not stayed for long. Let us talk a little more my daughter.
Nanyuli: No, I will not. I had just brought some tea leaves for Kuloba the old grandmother.
Chenje: Ooh! Who gave you the tea leaves?
Nanyuli: I do hawk tea leaves door to door. I met her last time and she requested me to bring her some. So I want to give them to you (pointing at Namugugu) so that you can give them to her when she comes.
Namugugu: No problem. I will.
Nanyuli: (takes out a tumbler from the paper bag, fills the tumbler twice, pours the tea leaves  into an old piece of  newspaper, folds and gives  it to Namugugu) you will give them to grandmother, Kuloba.
Namugugu: (taking) thank you.
Chenje: My daughter, how much is a tumbler full of tea leaves, I mean when it is full?
Nanyuli: Ten shillings of Kenya
Chenje: My daughter, your price is good. Not like others.
Nanyuli: Thank you.
Namugugu: (To Nanyuli) What about money, she gave you already?
Nanyuli: No, but tell her that any day I may come for it.
Namugugu: Ok, I will not forget to tell her
Nanyuli: I am thankful. Let me go, we shall meet another day.
Chenje: Yes my daughter, pass my regards to your father.
Nanyuli: Yes I will (goes out)
Chenje: (Biting his finger) I wish I was a boy. Such a good woman would never slip through my fingers.
Chenje: But father she is already a tea leaves vendor!
(CURTAINS)


SCENE THREE
Nanyuli and Kulecho in a common room Nanyuli and Kulecho are standing at the table, Nanyuli is often suspecting a blow from Kulecho, counting coins from sale of tea leaves; Lusaaka is sited at couch taking a coffee from a ceramic red kettle.


Kulecho: (to Nanyuli) these monies are not balancing with your stock. It is like you have sold more tea leaves but you have less money. This is only seventy five shillings. When it is supposed to be one hundred and fifty. Because you sold fifteen tumblers you are only left with five tumblers.
Nanyuli: (Fidgeting) this is the whole money I have, everything I collected from sales is here.
Kulecho: (heatedly) be serious, you stupid woman! How can you sell everything and am not seeing any money?
Nanyuli: Mama, this is the whole money I have, I have not taken your money anywhere.
Kulecho: You have not taken the money anywhere! Then where is it? Do you know that I am going to slap you!
Nanyuli: (shaking) forgive me Mama
Kulecho: Then speak the truth before you are forgiven. Where is the money you collected from tea leaves sales?
Nanyuli: (in a feat of shyness) some I bought a short trouser for my child.
Kulecho: (very violent) after whose permission? You old cow, after whose permission (slaps Nanyuli with her whole mighty) Talk out!
Nanyuli: (Sobbingly) forgive me mother, I thought you would understand. That is why I bought a trouser for my son with your money!
Lusaaka: (shouting a cup of coffee in his hand, standing charged) teach her a lesson, slap her again!
Kulecho (slaps, Nanyuli continuously, some times ******* her cheeks, as Nanyuli wails) Give me my money! Give me my money! Give me my money! Give me my money! You lousy, irresponsible Con-woman (clicks)
Lusaaka: Are you tired, kick the *** out of that woman (inveighs a slap towards Nanyuli) I can slap you!
Nanyuli: (kneeling, bowedly, carrying up her hands) forgive me father, I will never repeat that mistake again (sobs)
Lusaaka: An in-corrigible, ****!
Kulecho: (to Nanyuli) You! Useless heap of human flesh. I very much regret to have sired a sell-out of your type. It is very painful for you to be a first offspring of my womb.
I curse my womb because of you. You have ever betrayed me. I took you to school you were never thankful, instead you became pregnant. You were fertilized in the bush by peasant boys.
You have given birth to three childlings, from three different fathers! You do it in my home. What a shame! Your father is a teacher, how have you made him a laughing stock among his colleagues, teachers? I have become sympathetic to you by putting you into business. I have given you tea leaves to sell. A very noble occupation for a wretch like you. You only go out sell tea leaves and put the money in your wolfish stomach. Nanyuli! Why do you always act like this?
Nanyuli: (sobbing) Forgive me mother. Some tea leaves I sold on credit. I will come with the money today?
Kulecho: You sold on credit?
Nanyuli: Yes
Kul
this is a manuscript of a play, please guys help me get any publisher who can do publishing of this play
i  will appreciate. thanks
Aaron LaLux Oct 2018
She’s got scars on her legs,
calls them battle wounds,
I’ve got the music up way to loud,
so loud we can’t hear our thoughts,

city lights provide the background,
as we lose control and make love,
doing anything to feel anything,
because it’s 2018 and it feels like no one gives a fck,

so we fck,
and after it's said and done she says,
“I don’t usually do this.”,
yeah well we often do things we don’t usually do,

no road home and no rules,
no control no lines no tolls,
keep knocking and you can come in,
but no one’s home,

what’s going on up there,
how can you be so terrifyingly beautiful,
why are you armed with such a stare,
I know you’re a weapon but what do you use it for,

armed to the teeth no bark all bite,
I say she’s a unicorn she says she’s a vampire,
and I don’t fall in love but with this one I just might,
because we better express ourselves before we expire,

got burned from her fire,
but it hurt so good,
like those cuts that we inflicted onto each other,
feeling erratic I guess blame it on the mood,

always ready to talk about anything except the truth,
she says she only lied to me once,
and that was about not liking Ethiopian food,
and I pretend to care but honestly don’t know if I give a fck,

what the fck,
I’m drunk,
and I don’t usually drink,
but I often do things I don’t usually do,

and I don’t mean to be rude,
but I’m not sure I love you,
because even if I did,
I’m not sure it’d matter to you so what’s the use,

you want the truth,
the truth is we’re born alone and we die alone,
and in the middle is where I found you,
and for a moment this runaway thought he'd found a home,

and I wanted us to stay forever in that moment,
laying there naked in each other’s arms,
but you were insecure and covered yourself back up,
because you didn’t want me to see your scars,

you’ve got scars on her legs,
calls them battle wounds,
I’ve got the music up way to loud,
so loud we can’t hear our thoughts,

city lights provide the background,
as we lose control and make love,
doing anything to feel anything,
because it’s 2018 and it feels like no one gives a fck...

∆ LaLux ∆

Melbourne, Australia
October 2018
Mateuš Conrad Nov 2016
before i pull this one out of my *** (again - listen, these words are not coming from either head or heart, it's best to pull them from the bowels, a gut-wrenching-feeling is more potent than that "something" that "something" delusional pulled from a clenched heart... as far as i know, the brain is incapable of emotions, it doesn't understand them, and since it doesn't understand them: it ridicules them)... which brings me to point:

(a) perhaps the idea of a soul is out-dated... why wouldn't it be, 21g worth of breath does not equal a soul... hence the autopsy of man, each detail studied seperately, the cardiologist knows the heart, the neurologist the brain etc., but some items work in a solipsistic mode... the heart is robotic, automaton pump queen (and not the kind of pump you'd get from Shveeden) - thump thump thump! come to think of it, most of our bodies are robotic, automated... lucky for me: i don't have to think about the heart doing what it does, it just per se does it... i'm not even sure i'm gifted with the a.i. brain functions... but there's an underlying principle that governs all of these items... some call it the self... i prefer: the Σ ultimatum... some would call it soul... but there has to be something akin to the Σ ultimatum that allows me to become detached from this body, while at the same time be bound to it: high blood pressure, heart attack on the horizon... take the high blood pressure pills... ****... what was (b)? oh... yes...

(b) i'm sorry, virginity doesn't cut it for me, lucky me that it was isabella of grenoble that allowed me to move aside from: god, prior to losing my virginity.... roxette: do you feel excited, you're still the one (shanaia twain), fade to black - metallica... i was such a romantic before i lost this dreaded curse... i was a romantic... 19th century style romanticism... but you really can see past this sort of romanticism unless you haven't ******... these days the right complains about cultural marxism: plenty of things to complain about... it makes as much sense as a pickle in a dollop of custard... or cooking with pale indian ale to make a stew: bad idea... wine, brandy, cider? fine... beer? terrible idea to cook with... but unless you haven't lost your virginity, you can't see what cultural marxism chose as its opponent: cultural darwinism... you know how little you hear about darwinism outside of the english speaking world? zero to none, yes, it's an accepted fact, but this fact does not permeate outside of the fact per se, the fact contains itself and the whole subsequent narrative because subconsciously stored... no other people than the people who found it ensure there are subplot proof statements of a reconfirmation of the validity... the whole social science bogus trap of rating people on looks... contradicting the meritocracy of that old Socratic saying: let me be as beautiful on the inside as on the outside... if you haven't ******: you're still the same old romantic i was at puberty... once you ****... well... cultural marxism dwarfs... yes yes it's there... so? but at the same time you can at least appreciate seeing the antithesis: cultural darwinism... the romantic needs to die the most carnal death via experience... all my ideals were shattered, this perfection of woman... i very much liked the idea / not even the ideal of a woman... but when the idea fizzled out and there was no ideal to begin with... i saw cultural darwinism for the very first time and... it was as ugly as cultural marxism so heavily criticized by the conservative right of the west... so... i decided to walk the middle ground, ignoring both sides (of the argument).

(c) i wouldn't have come up with a point see, unless my favorite square schematic didn't pop into my mind, Kantian, as ever: the best philosophy is the antithesis of English pragmatism and overt-politicisation, so it has to be German, ergo? i will not explain these terms, i figured: if i nail a decent example to fit each category, that's enough: since you can then visualize the concept via the example:

analytical a priori                           synthetic a priori
there's a need to throw                   learning
a ball at                                                to throw a ball
a target                                                 at a target once
                                                            ­  the need has been
                                                            ­  established...



synthetic a posteriori                    analytical a posteriori
there's a  need to                           perfecting to throw
      throw a ball at                               a ball at a target
a target, in order
to perfect this need...

                                            baseball..­. cricket...
at least: that's how i define knowledge of something
simple without having to use mathematics
that Kant used to explain... 2 + 2 = 4...
mathematics isn't exactly a man's best friend
at explaining philosophy...
you write philosophy that alligns itself
to mathematics... no wonder: moths in books...
yawns, unfinished works...
i found that sports work just as well
as mathematics... and you have the already
primitive objects to work with...
rather than pseudo-objects: i.e. numbers...
the abstracts of perception: i'm actually 6ft2...
not 6ft1... karolína plíšková is 6ft1...
       as noted when watching her today...

  i'll admit, i'm always a bit shaky when it comes
to this sqaure, whether it's over-simplified,
notably the top left corner: analytical a priori,
i'm always of a mindset that wants to associated
this definition with: analytical a- priori...
  i.e. borrowing from atheism:
    to analyse something without there
being a prior to example...
               analysis without a prior example...
i guess that's the mojo of science... the driving force...
back to sports... bow and arrow...
   tools: target...
       whether a bow and arrow and a deer
to begin with...
or a hand and ball and a wicket to end with...

there's a need to throw                  
a ball at a target...

            and cricket was the precursor of
baseball, but prior to cricket?
   there was archery...
              and prior to archery...
   there was forever a fundamental need,
e.g. to go from point X to point Z...
   see... as much as Kant wanted...
   numbers don't really solve the "problem"
of explaining something: algebra would be
better suited... x + y = z...
                    with numbers either hovering
above, or below (in the instance of chemistry's
subscript)...

talking of squares... sūdoku...
well, if at any time the french were to receive a hard-on
in terms of inventing something,
the english: rugby, cricket, football, tennis...
the french really did read some of the hebrew
qabbalah literature, as i am doing...
magic squares...
       the secular version of this puzzle
first appeared on july 6, 1895 (the modern version)...

it came to us from India and China...
again... why do western cultural darwinists
always tell our genesis from
the perspective of: "out of Africa"?
aren't there elephants in India?
            i will not believe i originated in Africa,
i'm not an "out of Africa" sorry state of
incompetence... i place my origins in
the sub-continent... at least that's where my
current language originates from...
the great migration across the Siberian tundra,
rather than some African savannah...
after all the Bangladeshi and the Sri Lankans
(the tear of India) resemble burnt cinnamon
in tone, some even as dark skinned as
east africans...
   if the germanic people want to stick to
the "out of Africa" narrative (notably the English):
let them have it... i place my origins in
India...

   never mind, now i'll write a name's dropping
history of how july 6th, 1895 happened...
the "magic" squares...

    from either India or China (chess from India)...
moschopulus of contantinople
  introduced them (the "magic" squares)
in the early 1400s... apparently ancient qabbalists
had knowledge of them
  (so... a trip well spent)...
                             rabbi joseph tzayah (1505 - 1573)
magnum opus: responsa...
             rabbi joseph castro: avkat rokhel...
tzayah in jerusalem wrote his major work
Evven HaShoham (the onyx stone) - 1538 -
   a year later the book: tzeror ha-chaim discussing
the Talmud: he never really bothered about
the Zohar...
               the hebrai word for "letters": otiot...
divided into two:
                         tav aleph (a line of aleph)
and tav yod (a line of yod)...
                   one is to never concentrate
upon the keter within the realm of the sefirot...
hence the matisyahu expression:
   king without a crown...
                         one example of a "magic" square
later dictated into a 9 x 9 newspaper puzzle?
      2     9     4
      7     5     3
      6     1     8     (up down across = 15...
my date of birth? 15th may 1986,
no coincidence, just stating an oblivion's
worth of a "point)... 15 x 3 = 45...
   and that's about as significant as any
                               insignificance can be...

album of choice?
    old horn tooth - from the ghost grey depths...

and without even associating the arabs
to the hebrai practice of gamatria,
i once inquired an old pakistani (who tried to convert me)
what: Alif, Lam, Meem
implied in the opening of the al-baqarah sutra
implied?
   he replied: god knew...
        so i thought, you don't know what
alif (letter) what lam (letter) and meem (also a letter)
means? you have to search for god
for the answers? good look making me into
a proselyte... mind you:
if the jews abhor proselytes,
while the muslims are so so oh so *******
welcoming... isn't that a tad bit suspicious?
how can a muslim convert me
when he can't explain to me what
alif lam and meem implies at the opening
of al-baqarah?!
            let's play some hijāʾī order game...
and the three letters...
       28 letters in total...
alif (28), lam (6), meem (5)...
    i'm not even going to go into the gamatria
mental gymnsastics related to any
"significance"...
   point was made upon the question being
asked... if a muslim tries to covert you...
and he can't explain to you
the significance of alif lam meem at the beginning
of al-baqarah... they're letters...
well... how is he going to explain to you
what's bothersome about those letters
to begin with? ALM... does that imply: zakat?!
to give alms? zakat being one of the pillars
of islam?
  **** me... i haven't even converted
and it would appear: i know more than the person
who tried to convert me!

.i. Yuri Gagarin and the yo-yo

if ever the potency of a "keyboard crusader"
existed, it's now -
   i can dangle a mouse above a bear-trap
and tell an elephant of a phobia concerning
mice any day of the week,
          when in fact i'm talking about
a mousetrap: nothing more.
     hence the exaggeration in the imagery
comparison:
        or it begins with a story told in the 20th
century:
             when women put down their mascara
brushes, men put down their swords:
never mind the voice in the wilderness:
       mind the voice in the crowd -
there's absolutely no reason to speculate
urbanity and tribal environments without
addressing, or regressing the crowd,
or as i like to call it: what Nietzsche said,
minus the Wake... but now inclusive of the wake
and the Bacchus cult of fun fun fun.
            the Wake in condor terms?
we congregate praying for something to die...
      i don't pretend to be whatever
that sachet of concrete-Cartesian labels entitles me
too:        for the most part
        people say 'i am' without a thought to
govern the rain shaman telling you what thought
is required to 'be', oh, a very old ontological
stipend: you need people to experience a collectivisation,
a herding, a "bound together" sort of mentality
before the critic arrives and says: well, that's not
what i'm really about.
                    a bit like the **** firs, mouth second
debacle...
                but what heart they had, our predecessors!
what heart!
             they'd wage war over a woman,
a Helen,
                  would you wage a war against
the feminist version of Helen these days?
would you pluck a Scottish thistle over an English rose?
      true: you might be a bishop
and of lesser rank... but would you wage a war
over the women of these days?
my **** is in a pickle jar anyway! we have become
a *** of a species unburdened by an obligation...
             finally! we can become eternal bachelors
sort of ******* that we're here, and hear less and less
of sayings about the "things that matter".
            you know what vile? really really vile?
oh i know my contemporaries when i bother to
hear them talk, oddly enough never bother when they
think, i'm quiet content with a Godot stage of
a park bench and an old man as my company,
      i know Douglas Murray,
               i know the wild-eyed Icke,
but a thing that concerns me is why: the safety room
parallel to the leftist thesis of offensive speech
was put in play when a discussion took off
concerning feminism, between milo yiannopoulus
and julie bindel - that's like saying:
ask a pederast to talk for a heterosexual man
with a woman safe-space...
                                no one wants to hear
the heterosexual side of the argument....
  you'll sooner see heterosexual intellects have their
marriages come undone then get paired with either
side of the argument...
     little richard is in the pickle jar anyway,
and he's not coming out...
                it's a bit like ****** for dummies....
       hence i have to succumb to violence without
the glory, tongue waggling blah blah
when i'd gladly take a weapon and shove it into
a shattered cranium bone: had i the ****** chance to
do so!
           no heterosexual is taken seriously:
and won't be:
    of a woman to be like a rosy cushion on which
i can lay my head after the darkly toils of
    roofing, or laying bricks, or excavating the sewers...
no! let the Chinese do that:
the basic argument of slavery, although imported
therefore ****** ******* fine.
                         cryogenic fathers,
      pickled *****:      where's the middle in all of this?
     a coconut just fell from the Boddhi tree:
money!           and those that defend it,
don't know squat about the tribalism of squatters!
but hey! they have the ****** stage!
         i have a bench when someone approaches me
and talk, doing the best thing possible:
               knitting opinions -
i don't want the truth of opinions: i want a sweater,
or a pair of socks! that's metaphor for something
different altogether.
  keyboard crusader? really? can i ask you for
directions to the high street, in every single town
across the country? i can't find one!
         no one hears a heterosexual argument
on the various topics: because there isn't one -
                     as of the end of the 20th century,
working classes in the west striving to ensure
there is something mundane to do during the day
and kick back with the family in the evening
are the "inferior" neanderthals: who
haven't jacked into discovering a 3D reality
of what's otherwise a 2D computer screen and
aren't hooked on #crack;
honestly, so much debating ought to be opera,
and so much opera ought to be debating -
    ah: that famous tingle of utopian paradoxes
never in duality, but always in dichotomy.
   keyboard crusader?
really? i thought people were always moaning
about how many emails they receive:
   and never a single postcard from, say,
someplace like Venice?
           it's still early days,
                   and already we're brewing enough
cliches to replace all known nouns in
    the surrogate mother that's the dictionary
of our completed version of a soul -
if ever to be experienced upon meeting the omni-vocabulary;
jigsaws, i know my idiosyncratic version
of events, he says photosynthesis within parameters
                            of photon deconstruction of hydrogen;
'cos' it's sub; d'uh! i say god i say this perfected
version of nearing telepathy - you say god i hope you
don't mean satan's clause - great anagram to frighten
children with: the Babushka surprise of a Pumpkin head
laughing it's way toward: how easy life would be
if we had all that time to think it through as being hard,
rather than that mortal fleetingness in both thought
and body.

ii. Macbeth

it really dawned on me, when i was watching the film
Macbeth (2015) -
            there was an eeriness to it, a near perfection
of Shakespeare on screen...
           honestly? i'd rather read Kant early on in life
while i have the vigour, and leave old age to Shakespeare...
but it truly was eerie all over the place.
      i do recall seeing Romeo + Juliet
          and reading the script, and imagining the fallacy
of word for word translation from theatre to cinema
of the script: the narrator a news channel anchor,
and everything said, word, for, word.
that film with DiCaprio as Romeo and Claire Danes
as Juliet - it just felt itchy, uncomfortable -
                            Shakespeare, word for word, on screen?!
     (surprise, then astonishment, not !? or astonishment,
   then the surprise, because: it didn't really work);
and it didn't! you can't adapt Shakespeare to the screen
and put everything in! i noticed it at that ******
generous scene in Macbeth concerning the battle
of Ellon... so i was like like... this isn't typescript...
(and thank **** it isn't) -
you can't depict Shakespeare word for word,
to be honest, Macbeth (2015) is the only worthy
translation of Macbeth (the text) into Macbeth (the movie);
all this scientific exactness in previous examples
like Romeo + Juliet, the Merchant of Venice
and a Midsummer's Night Dream don't work,
it's their precision making,
     a theatre cast can take it, but a cinema going crowd,
with all these cutting and copying and repasting
    succinct moments? it doesn't work!
maybe because there's no actual narrator in the staged
examples? narrator as a necessary character understudy:
surely Puck and the news anchor are there:
don't know about the Shylock scenario...
           but these screen adaptations didn't work for me,
too rigid, too formal... in the case of Macbeth?
finally! the long awaited piquant version of Shakespeare:
all that matters, and the rest is thrown into
poetic technique: imagery, metaphor,
                everything that's necessary can be given grammar
as image and not word!
       want an example? from the text...
the Royal Shakespeare
  from the text of Professor Delius
  and introduction by f. j. Furnivall, ll.d.
         vol. v (special edition)
Cassell & Company, Ltd.

        sure, it feels like a Roman Polanski moment
akin to the 9th Gate scenic affair of a bibliophile
fetishist, and it is:

     ... (the only enemy of enso poetry
is the bladder) ...

well the screen play first:

banquo: what are these?
macbeth: live you? or are you aught
                          that man may question?
       speak if you can - what are you?
1st witch: macbeth! hail to thee
                    thane of Glamis!
2nd witch: macbeth... hail to thee,
       thane of Cawdor!
3rd witch: all hail Macbeth! that shalt be king in-after.

but such disparity, such **** as if once
of Lucretia, then of the authority,
for i have before me the original composition:
which is not worth cinema -
nonetheless, a **** takes place:
an assortment for the abdication of a king:
or as ever suggested: the wrong footed path:
never was tossing a coin in a gamble
that of tossing a crown into the air
for a court jester to appear less amusing
and more scolding.

act i, scene iii: post the battle of ellon...
  if ever the refusal to give up Greek myth,
then Macbeth's witches
      and Perseus' Graeae -
                            or naturalise a myth:
like you might not naturalise a strengthened
economy.... canonise the nation
with Elgin Marbles - Elgin: less than
what's said to be the exfoliation of the Aegean -
a municipality somewhere in Scotland:
west of Aberdeen, on the Northern Sea's
battering of the coast...
but word for word? or how to write Shakespeare
into cinema?
                 herr zensor must come into play -
you have to bypass imagery in poetic tongue
and relay it with actual images, a direly needed
necessity:

just after the three witches arrive,
enter Macbeth and Bonquo...

   Macb. so foul and fair a day i have not seen.
Ban. how far is't call'd to Fores? - what are these,
     so wither'd and so wild in their attire,
that look not like th' inhabitants o' the earth,
   and yet are on 't?
             live you? or are you aught that man may
question?

                  (how word for word, but the words
waggle from a different tongue, namely that of
Macbeth, and not that of Banquo, hence
italicised).
                   continuing:
       you seem to understand me,
by each at once her choppy finger laying upon her
skinny lips: - you should be women, and yet your
beards forbid me to interpret that you are so.
Macb. speak, if you can - what are you?
         the witches. all hail, Macbeth!
     hail to thee, thane of Glamis!
         all hail, Macbeth! hail to thee, thane
of Cawdor!
         all hail, Macbeth! that shalt be king hereafter.
            
so does he really belong on the psychoanalytic
couch? is he really that necessarily wonton of talk?
  Cawdor v. Gondor - it's an ongoing narrative.
but is he in need of a couch?
                 what sort of talk is talk when
in fact the only talk that's need to be said is the talk
of man's sexualised naturalisation for strife,
and here: as if knocking on a door:
you want to simply hear the onomatopoeia of
the Kabbalah in a woman gasping for breath
while puny Jewish boys under strict rabbinical
studies study?

                mama, take this badge from  me,
i can't use it, anymore,
            it's getting dark, too dark to see,
feels like i'm knockin' on heaven's door -
      my big mouth and man as a piston
                                               Ferrari acrobat


(even the soundtrack is a shrill, a strangulation
variant of higher pitch of the bagpipes -
not that braveheart ****** of whisking out
a song like for the love of a princess addition to:
  and can i have a madonna to boot too?
it's piercing, a whale sonar above refrigerator
white noise hum for the new age Buddha -
and that's because all the poetry has been excavated
  to suit cinema: not theatre).

and this is the first adaptation of Shakespeare i actually
could stomach...
     the genius was in how Macbeth spoke the lines
of Bonqua - so the character didn't start smacking
the narrative ****** in terms of solipsism:
even Shakespeare can be attacked on this front...
        if in the movie Banqua said all that was in
the typescript: the film wouldn't have worked...
i don't know what the big deal is with Lady Macbeth:
i thought that in the olden days
Macbeth suggested to King Duncan that:
can i leave the warring if you **** my wife?
i can go on the contract that you **** my wife
and i stop serving you?
      first impressions: strange English.
well, i'm sure she's important as it might be said:
within the programme of Orthodoxy,
            but never catholic (metadoxy) tradition of
saying: way hey! ensnare the mare in a funfair!
       and play the game: pin the tale on the donkey!
heads or tails?      it looks pretty damnable
     in the first place: as all honesty hogs to pout and
***** a hoggish sneeze out of the story.

iii. shaken, not stirred

and indeed, how many a times
did not a neon blossom sprout,
thinking it might rattle an oratory
with an oak in autumn, and behold
a swarm of leaves descend -
not out of passing ease,
but out of wishful thinking
that some indentation might be made:
with whom the hands of will reside,
and yet: to no gratifying effect,
to whatever atomic-centralisation
dream, be that ego or be it hydrogen
(lending hands: so too
electric or thus negative, neutral and
thus proto) - shake foundation
and give a revising repertoire of
              the covering dust humanity
that once made famous: never
again to learn the humility of the start;
        to whatever centric dream that
does not waver in demands of orientation,
be it father (sun), son (shadow)
  or the holy spirit (night) -
  make them earn! be obscure!
            or simply say: in the community
of the stated congregation:
  i find all to be as night,
   and safer that plague the father:
  i am not akin to the shadow:
                   but the shadow in mirror.
so, a centric dream that does not
waver in demands for orientation,
has ever or will be enthroned in man's
heart as the stability of Sabbath's demands
       for less, oh so much less to agitate with!
as too, when the ancient appliances
were adorned by countless demands of
mimic, so too our modern
fibbles are to stage a usurping of
such things demanded and their mimic;
for with such disclosure does all fate
of anewed become burdened in what
history could be: shaken,
rather than simply a stirring of the void,
nothing more than the unburdening
of sweetening a cup of coffee, of that and
the layers: or bitter at the top, drank
through toward the sedimented sweetness -
and all that: hoping i could have retained
that silver spoon lodged in my ***
          when i first met her and thought about
consolidating marriage: so fresh, eager prune
of the flesh embodiment as first
    watered ash, then entombed in marble
and the eternal... ah
               but it was all just the faintest of dreams;
so lumberjack sleep ensued,
                      as did a kindred worth ethic:
we are a long way from Eden...
      there is but the idyll of the absurd fruition of
albreit macht frei... or a redefinement of
such stakes as: what occupies our days?
                    if not war, if not disease,
if not the Chinese... what does, occupy our days?
Amber Evans Aug 2018
“When those menthol’s inhabit the deepest parts of my tarnished lungs, I faintly remember the way you first positioned your hand across my thigh. Innocence was nowhere to be found in this moment. Instead, your eyes grew wide; crystallized and chivalrous. You spoke with knowledge of this whirling world, for there will always be certainties: bats will swoop for the moth in the midst of the night, the eyes of the villain may deceive you, purity doesn’t always mean superiority, and most importantly, the shaking of your hand won’t stop once you’ve reached the filter.”
– Engulfed in You: part 1


“The shards of glass from my past still cut me every now and again. I don’t want to bleed all over you; all over us, so I bandage myself up. Over and over. It’s a never-ending wound that I can’t seem to stitch. The ache eases when your breath enters me. I think I’m in love with you.”
– Engulfed in You: part 2


“Maybe love isn’t the word. It isn’t savory on my taste buds. Love doesn’t fill the corners of my mouth with delicacy, nor aggression. It doesn’t satisfy every inch of me. I don’t wish to be in ambiguity with you. I want certainty. I want words to fill me up and pour out of my mouth like they have overstayed their welcome. I want to feel tranquil when you lie next to me. I crave chaos. I want your hands to grab harder once they’ve discovered the bruising. Lingering lascivious for one another. Maybe love is too small for how big I truly feel.”
– Engulfed in You: part 3


“Vibrations violate my ears. The sincerity of the chords blend perfectly. They mix up like an old recipe inside my head. Isolation sets in once your locked eyes drift away as the hours flow past us. Blistering hands strike the door. The pounding never stops. It’s a continuous knocking of a door; a continuous knocking of the heartbeat. You never stopped plucking the strings on your acoustic; the design haunts me. The dove stares into my uncertain eyes: striking and radiant. It’s everything I wish I could be for you, but I’m not the perfect melody. I don’t soar. I cannot rest. I’m the crash of a shattering liquor bottle that slices your foot the next morning.”
– Engulfed in You: part 4


“The twinges of pain don’t occur as often when you’re around.”
– Engulfed in You: part 5


“I love the taste of your fingers down my throat. Throbbing heart; don’t slow down. My eyes are half-open but I can see you perfectly in this dim-lit room. Calculated movements come my way with short breaths. I’m never as vulnerable as I am when I’m begging for you.”
– Engulfed in You: part 6
NitaAnn Oct 2017
I stand here knocking
On Death's door
I am asking to come in
Life is too overwhelming
I am ready to move on
Maybe the next life
Will treat me kinder
As this life has been hard
So I stand here knocking
On Death's door.
I was looking for love
looking for a long time
I was looking for love
looking for a long time

I found the love I was looking for
He just happened to be knocking on my door
His job as an investigator
Bought him to my door

He asked a few questions
about my stolen garden gnome
Which had unexpectedly
fled from the back of my home

We conferred on the matter
of the robbery
And I could see in his eyes
that he was falling for me
The direction of our chat
changed rather rapidly
The air had the feeling
of sweet harmony

I found the love I was looking for
He just happened to be knocking on my door
Nasira Feb 2018
Cupid comes a'knocking
Who is it what do you want
I come bearing gifts girl
Don’t be afraid open up
No Cupid not again
Haven't you done enough
When you lit my heart aflame
Plunged me into the deepest depths of pain
No cupid not again
No more joy turning to rust in my veins
And my heart beating beaten and bruised
And my eyes falling like summer rain
No cupid not again
I can't do this anymore
Aim that broken bow away from my heart
Find some other fool's door
Its different this time girl
This time I brought you the one
With brown locks and a crooked smile
And eyes that shine like the sun
Open up girl
Love can be rewritten and redone
It’s a process of years and centuries and eons
A persevering stroll not a manic run
Don’t lie to me Cupid
When your hands still hold the smoking gun
Rome wasn’t built in a day
But it sure was destroyed in one
There is nothing left to give of me can't you see
There is nothing left to be won
You failed me before Cupid
When you shot at him and missed
And he didn’t care a **** for me
While I dreamt of him in colours that don’t exist
How many more victims will you find
How many more hearts will you break like mine
How many more souls will your bow plunder and defile
Not anymore Cupid. Not this time.
I sharpen my claws and smile a wicked smile
Hone the fires burning in my eyes all the while
Prepare to rip the white wings off his body
Prepare to sear his halo to char
Come in Cupid, I whisper
The door is left ajar
I read that he lost a suitcase full of manuscripts on a
train and that they never were recovered.
I can't match the agony of this
but the other night I wrote a 3-page poem
upon this computer
and through my lack of diligence and
practice
and by playing around with commands
on the menu
I somehow managed to erase the poem
forever.
believe me, such a thing is difficult to do
even for a novice
but I somehow managed to do
it.

now I don't think this 3-pager was immor-
tal
but there were some crazy wild lines,
now gone forever.
it bothers more than a touch, it's some-
thing like knocking over a good bottle of
wine.

and writing about it hardly makes a good
poem.
still, I thought somehow you'd like to
know?

if not, at least you've read this far
and there could be better work
down the line.

let's hope so, for your sake
and
mine.
Robin Carretti Jun 2018
She, "City' cafe cat
But we would do
anything
for a cup of coffee right?
Where not the punctual
calendar girls day or night
The territories

(My Heaven's) steep spoon swirls
How it became the show
Guys and Dolls
Coffee of diaries souls
How a fortune of words
can burn a cup
One sip out of you just ****
At least my flavor trip
I did a lot of long walking
Sipping below his sea level
Hialeah slim blend
The firelight is
glowing
 Beloved by brown warm eyes firefly
This one is the long
sip to meet him bewitched

The Spanish fly
always on his cup trim
More Sambuca  Italian coffee
but why is this so long_
mouth stretching
Another long wait
To get the creamy shining
Knight
My light long
way home
Queen bee cream and
sugar delight, not honey
cleverly cupped
international trip money

The charming Knight
Over the coffee feeling
  camelback
She brews her
fulfillment
he massages her skin
On the fortune road
coffee beans "Parliament"
One long sip enjoyment
Brown leaf so Autummy
That long trip something
is falling
Good body flavor his calling
She neighed into
his love fire dim text
The desire long
extension
all wired

I just want — to — hold you — Egyptian

King with her cherries bing
I never heard of that coffee?
Got like jewels shall bling

One big fortune her vocal chord sing
we work harder to be more
golden winning goes to _
__

The winner holding beans
Eyes of fortune Emmy fascination
(Sweet Carolina) honey so much more
blossom into her coffee such luster
bean amazingly guilty hey buster
Feeling so fortunate
how he reads into her expression

The Lord is my shepherd is coming
but hesitancy in her response
Then the next kiss would be with
her coffee embrace could he afford her
Also, her Sophia seduction like
styled camped
Safari how coffee became
the love cure for illnesses
how it healed hearts and asthma

(Her Vows) desireable boiled bows
Buganda Kingdom
I love you in the morning shore

What an obsession fortune beds
of Coffee, fingertips trailed to him
because he couldn't let her go
completely loving coffee and she

He cupped her in his
broad shoulders so he
Let’s be creative and
think of fortune names

Fortune:

Richest self-made millionaires
the rim of my coffee cup

I see a fortune flowing one long
trip faces glowing

Howard Schultz Forbes fortunes from scratch
I guess he saw his beans clearly no eye to patch
So the name like "Starbucks"
Knocking on heavily cup the
woodpecker chucks trip of coffee perks
That billionaire
secrets
is Facebook
Mark Zuckerberg
entrepreneur what a face
nothing more just faces
Will I get an idea the way they do?

Let’s open the (Gate Bill)
micro-soft computer,
French roast bold what was
really told
Hungary England how he
survived the **** Budapest
now he trying to save
other refuges with 500 million

Like her tiny cup of Turkish
heavy sediment Istanbul
Oceans storms her Grecian coffee
Also, her mind was dazzled but rambled
by the intruder
Leaving her all different coffee flavors
Like a fortune of familiar words
One knowing about coffee?
The “Spicy Taco” I felt I was in a
spiritual environment
of the Mecca in the holy city
Stephen when he went to her place
he would try so hard to protect her

Seeing the fortune coming inside the
amber water fountain
She knew his (Grecian Island)
flavors so well
with cardamon meet lovely (Cinnamon)
The coffee so sinfully the game
backgammon and chess

How love came in many Cafes parades
of the New Orlean Carnival
the Turkish armies "Parisian ****"
women and Men
Robes Pierre French revolution
What an evolution world cafes
Long ago far away 1600 Pope Clement
V111 pleasure full cup of Turkish coffee
very popular business thinkers

One golden ticket most expensive coffee
(Starbucks) the trip of a lifetime
(Cafe Nero)
Please bow to (Grace Kelly) coffee
Princess of Morocco how people
are looking more exotic back
in fortunes bed and ***
One long lie what to be said
Doing the Egyptian coffee dance
Exotic love Islands and France
How she Sophia waited for him in
bed nakedly the "Egyptian silky"
love sheets pour the crystal eyes
milky
((Fifty flavor))
shades of coffee her
eyes opened he
saved her with her
special blend
The depth of loving his hands
melted inside of her coffee
He was her love intruder
sending
her all his coffee flavors
For an instant, their eyes
met like the grains
of heat, she was drowning
in his honey brown depths.
One long Coffee trip my way of telling this coffee-lite all over the website story I hope you have time for my fresh many flavors to enhance your love life even if your single may e in a whole bean better or married to a fortune King you know how to get you coffee he serves you hot and boiling mad but at the end of the coffee *** your siling money glad
gabrielle boltz Feb 2015
i thought that if i
squeezed my eyes shut tight enough,
the tears would collect
in the back of my throat and i could
swallow them -
wouldn't have to face
their hot,
wet,
attitude.

i thought that if i
left uncovered
a soft, pale collarbone,
the searching for thoughts beneath
that satin skin would
quickly fall away.

i thought that if i
tied down the fist
knocking, knocking, knocking
from the inside of my chest
i could keep it quiet

          keep them all quiet

          but the knocking never stops

and the knocking
     fuels the thoughts
and the thoughts
     fuel the tears

and i
have lost
all control

— The End —