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The screaming
children of Gaza
torment the sleep
of a troubled world,
and remain a real-time
unending nightmare;
anointing The Levant’s
fevered brow
with a diadem of
incessant grief.

Gaza is a burning
ankh that sears the
madness of sorrow
upon Egypt’s skull.

Gaza,
an unblinking
third eye
of shame,
peers into
Lower Egypt’s
closed window
ever reproaching
it’s turbulent
conscience;
chiding fellow
Muslims with
the ugly memory
of abject affliction,
the endless images
of a living Guernica
suspended in the hell
of indefinite imprisonment
all Palestinians are forced
to suffer.

As Zionists ***** the
steep walls of Apartheid to
extend its occupation
of Palestine, it
condemns the youth
of Gaza to a life of
incarceration with no
possibility of parole;
hardening the hearts
and steeling the resolve
of a new generation of
militants to demolish the
walls and the wardens
that imprison them.

The Zionist jailers
bestow upon
Ishmael’s Children
phylacteries of shame,
wearing the rolled
prayers of wailing pain
scribed with bits of
dust from the
the broken walls of
demolished buildings
and desolate homes
beyond habitation,
now housing grief
of trampled souls,
forcing recitations
of deliverance
to Allah while
davening an
incessant drone
of anguish at
the Wailing Wall
of Resentment;
decrying the
blood lust of
undying acrimony,
victimization and
the slaughter of
innocents, carried on
with the imperial license
of state sanctioned impunity.


Father Ibrahim's
feuding children may
share a sacred paternity
but remain the
divided brothers
of different mothers;
stoking a sibling rivalry
more bitter then
Cain and Abel.

Our anguish
never dissipates,
the gnawing
impulse of empathy
to assist the distressed
of Gaza is dashed
by omnipotent
powers recusing
the ability to act.

Sympathy is
embargoed
in the black
obfuscation
of religious
partisanship
while timely
assistance
to aid the
distressed
lie netted in
blockades of
realpolitik
affinities.

Gaza, where
Hashim is granted
his eternal rest,
restlessly inhabits
his unknown grave
from the destitution of
his profaned homeland.

Ghazzat,  “the stronghold”
countlessly conquered,
falling to Roman Emperors,
Lionhearted Crusaders
Ottoman Caliphates,
and British Mandates;
slipping from Egypt’s
geopolitical grasp as
as a casualty of
The Six Day War.

Gaza is now a stronghold of
resent and desperation for a
desperate conquered people.

Ghazzat, the prized city of
the western Mediterranean,
a four star Phoenician port of
caravansaries now unable
to trade with any partners
due to ungodly blockades.

Gaza, has grown wholly
dependent on the largess
of UN aid and meager
subsistence portions
doled out by well
meaning NGO’s.

Gaza, the foot stool of
the Levant and surely
the pathway Father
Ibrahim, Jacob,
Joseph and Jeremiah
traveled to escape
Canaan's famine;
finding at the close
of their sojourn
a table set with the
plenteous bounty
the Blue Nile
unconditionally offered;
the veritable feast
of abundance,
the generous yields
of the blessed delta
that sustained the
Prophets of Judah
and a thousand
generations of the
Nile’s Children.

Gaza, the Achilles
heal of Middle East
peace, land of the
Canaanites, Philistines
and Old Testament
heroes.

Gaza, a fortress for
Philistines who
imprisoned the storied
Sampson, revered for
breaking the chains of
imprisonment and righteously
destroying a pagan temple
in a suicidal act of heroism.

Gaza, where the myths and
legends of rapacious
holy crusaders captured
the western imagination
with the chivalrous gallantry
of religious warfare and
valiant last stands of
Templar Knights employing
the tactical imperatives
of terrorism in service to their
higher God.

Gaza, an oasis
by the sea now
lies dry and brittle
as the precious Hebron
waters of Wadi Ghazza
are diverted to serve
the agriculture of
Judah; condemning
a dehydrated Gaza
panting of thirst
to an imposed drought
and a war of
self preservation
to remove
the dammed rivers
of justice controlled
by intractable powers
laying upstream beyond
Gaza’s mean borders.

The Qassams
lunched by Hamas
are desperate
expressions of
exasperated people,
eager to call
world attention
to the growing
insufferable plight
of a people living
in a perpetual
state of siege.

Its a modern day
David slinging rocks
against an armor
clad Goliath.

Each Katusha
serves as
a justification
for Zionist
intransigence
and condemns
any possibility
for peaceful
coexistence
of a Two State
Solution.

The pointless attacks
invite massive
disproportionate
retaliation and succeed
in prolonging and
increasing the
measure of Gaza’s
agony.

The mystic grace,
the divine power
of satyagraha
-a non-violent
response to the
cruel enforcement of
Apartheid- is Allah’s
way to secure the
moral high-ground
and the surest way
for Palestinians to
expose it’s unholy
adversaries innate
contempt for civil rights
and a refusal to
recognized the
shared humanity of
all of Father Ibrahim’s
wayward progeny and
recalcitrant prodigal sons.

Mubarak’s fall
has allowed the
Rafah Gate
to swing open again.

The concertina
wire that separates
Gaza and Egypt
has been removed.

The prisoners
of Gaza have
an open portal
of freedom.

It is a Day of
Jubilee, a day
of pardon for
for the inmates
of prisons built
for victims.  

It is a day of
possibility for peace.  

It is a day to declare an
Exodus from the land
of bitterness.

Humanity is
offered the hope
of escape from
the prisons of
acrimony, to
freely move across
the staid borders
of intractability
and exclusion.

The hearts and
minds of Palestinians
and Egyptians
are free to connect
and unite once again.

Liberation is
possible only
when we uphold
and honor the
affirmation
of all humanity.

Music Video:

Silk Road
We Will Not Go Down

Oakland
2/9/12
jbm
a poem from the epilogue section of Tahrir Square Voices
Bunhead17 Nov 2013
[Intro]
Ain't this what they've been waiting for? You ready?

[Verse 1]
I used to pray for times like this, to rhyme like this
So I had to grind like that to shine like this
In a matter of time I spent on some locked up ****
In the back of the paddy wagon, cuffs locked on wrists
See my dreams unfold, nightmares come true
It was time to marry the game and I said, "Yeah, I do"
If you want it you gotta see it with a clear-eyed view
Got a shorty, she try'na bless me like I said, "Achoo"
Like a ***** sneezed, ***** please before them triggers squeeze
I'm gettin' cream, never let them hoes get in between
Of what we started, lil' ***** but I'm lionhearted
They love me when I was stuck and hated when I departed
I go and get it regardless, draw it like I'm an artist
No crawling, went straight to walkin' with foreigns in my garage
Got foreign ******* menaging, ******', suckin', and swallowin'
Anything for a dollar, they tell me get 'em, I got 'em
I did it without an album
I did **** with Mariah
Lil' ***** I'm on fire
Icy as a hockey rink, Philly ***** I'm fly-er
When I bought the Rolls Royce they thought it was leased
Then I bought that new Ferrari, hater rest in peace
Hater rest in peace, rest in peace to the parking lot
Phantom so big, it can't even fit in the parking spot
You ain't talkin' bout my ****** then what you talkin' bout?
Gangstas move in silence, ***** and I don't talk a lot
I don't say a word, I don't say a word
Was on my grind and now I got what I deserve **** *****
Hold up wait a minute, y'all thought I was finished?
When I bought that Aston Martin y'all thought it was rented?
Flexin' on these ******, I'm like Popeye on his spinach
Double M, yeah that's my team, Rozay the captain, I'm the lieutenant
I’m the type to count a million cash then grind like I’m broke
That Lambo, my new *****, she'll ride like my Ghost
I'm ridin' around my city with my hand strapped on my toast
Cause these ****** want me dead and I gotta make it back home
Cause my momma need that bill money and my son need some milk
These ****** tryna take my life, they **** around get killed
You **** around, you **** around, you **** around, get smoked
Cause these Philly ****** I brought with me don't **** around, no joke
All I know is ******, when it comes to me
I got young ****** that's rollin' I got ****** throwin' b's
I done did the DOAs I done did the KODs
Every time I'm in that ***** I get to throwin' 30 G's
Now I'm hanging out that drop head, I'm riding down on Collins
They like, my ***** back home that young ***** be wildin'
We young ****** and we mobbin' like Batman and we're Robin
This 2-door Maybach, with my seat all reclinin'
I'm that real ***** what up, real ***** what up
If you ain't about that ****** game then ***** ***** shut up
If you diss me in yo' raps, I'll get your ***** *** stuck up
When you touchdown in my hood, no that tour life ain't good
Catch me down in MIA, at that Heat game on wood
With that Puma life on my feet, like that little engine I could
Boy I slide down on your block, bike on twelve o'clock
And they be throwing dueces on the same ***** they watch
And I'm the king of my city cause I'm still calling them shots
And these lames talking that ******* the same ****** that flopped
I'm the same ***** from Berks Street with them ***** braids that lock
The same ***** that came up and I had to wait for my spot
And these ****** hating on me, hoes waiting on me
Still on that hood ****, my Rolls Royce on E
They gon' remember me, I say remember me
So much money have ya friends turn into enemies
And when there’s beef I turn my enemies to memories
With them bricks they go from 40 ain't no 10 a key, hold up
Broke ***** turn rich, love the game like Mitch
And if I leave you think them pretty hoes gon' still **** my ****?
It was something 'bout that Rollie when it first touched my wrist
Had me feeling like that dope boy when he first touched that brick
I'm gone
I love this song its so beautiful. "Dreams and Nightmares" by Meek Mills ****. The Beat Bully
#young kings
Chloe Cresse Sep 2013
If you only knew how much you meant to me
Then you would understand how we're meant to be
When you smile at me with those beautiful stars
Everything stops, everything is silent, the moment is ours

Your eyes.
A golden flame cascades as a flowing green meadow dies
You're a lion heart.
Courageous and brave. You had pride from the start

A hurricane of thoughts of you begin in my head
I'm blindfolded. Where am I being lead?
Light overcomes darkness. Joyous bells ring
And there in front of me stands
My lionhearted king.
annmarie Nov 2013
My best friend's younger brother
was cornered by older girls today
and punched in the eye—
because he wasn't athletic
and they thought that made him weak.

Haven, kiddo, let me tell you:
in that moment,
(any moment,)
you were anything but weak.
I promise you with all my heart
that you are and always will be
stronger than all those girls combined.
Because even after just eleven years,
you know a lot more
than a lot of adults out there.
You've been the little guy,
but you stand up for the little guy, too;
and you're honest;
and most importantly,
you never forget to say "I love you."

And Haven, just remember:
no matter what anybody
tries to etch into your self-esteem,
you are not weak.
You are lionhearted, which also means
that sometimes people will
underestimate you
because of how gentle you are.

But don't ever apologize for that.
They don't call the lion the King of the Sahara for nothing.
Rose Alley Apr 2013
How fragile we are
To be finite beings
In infinite wonder and
Wandering

How frail we are
To block out the life giving sun
With the shade of technology and
The shroud of mass media
While still somehow managing to
Shelter ourselves from reality

Take a step back and
Take a look up
Everyone would benefit from this
But to ask it of all
Would be an order too tall

Some of us can
See straight through the clouds
To the truth beyond and
We know there is a burning answer

But don't let that fool you
Because let's face it:

Not every question
Has the right response
Not every problem
Was meant to be resolved
Everything happens for a reason
I'm told
But the hardest part
Is figuring out if it's good or bad

It's called life
Because you have to be there
To live it and
Prove that you're alive

It's called laughter
Because you have to lean back and
Let go and
Just let it happen

It's called love
Because you have to really try and
Learn from each other
To make it legitimate and
Lasting and
Real

So I don't mean to discourage any of you
Because everything is going to be quite alright
Just don't forget when your time comes
To be fearless and ready to fight
mark john junor Jun 2014
she sat on a driftwood throne
at her feet lay the ruins of a stone man
her hair a wild world of winds draws you into her hurricane eyes
her lip a forest of meanings tender and soft
a single loose tear like a wild horse run free
she sat on a driftwood throne in all her glory
sun and salt water cadence to the living breathing dream
song of existence untainted

and now another song intrudes
one of loves lionhearted and bold
seafarer's son come of age
come seeking courtship of her soft hand
to be bound in the silken desire's both hot and sweet
and the dark ones such shy girl dare not speak

he brushes away the sand from her soft thigh
and within his mind romances such sweet
tender spot with a reign of kisses
but just then she arose graceful like the soft beatings of dove's wing
and emerging from the veil of his minds fanciful dreams
she laid before him her sandpaper eyes
so intense that summer sounds
like children at play and such soothing tones
could not hide her behind
he withdraws still no more than a child in her eyes
she desires a stronger, a true love
one that is not a fleeting fancy dream
one of a man who can speak his heart

the sand had invaded her driftwood throne
so into the dusk she sauntered slowly
with graceful flow
trailing his eyes behind her like glories of wishes
like worshiping doves
for such beauties perfection
he will return some day a man
once he has learned
Robin Carretti Feb 2019
Hey, another week whispers love to win "W" That womanly wonder I need to take a step back to "V"  just need to vent out.
I'm here not over there? Medieval times "Roman Festival" of love
I have to catch up to get to V- Valentine things are the sublime wake up take a bite the "Viennese Whirls" biscuit "The Cats Meow"
The Siamese to suit me just fine. The Valentine recruit her day of pursuit. Her lower V back to her higher love loot plays up to her **** and boots.

A victory versus the villain Mama Mia striking gold but I am a face to red like grapes. The Italian Villa making love in her red hot chinchilla. But somewhere over her sheer rainbow, he got sidetracked all the way she looks divine in her "Rosy" slingback chair. Read my lips go smack CD track "V-Valiant" multiplying like ants. She flaunts herself such a venom demonstration. The biblical (V)-sword wins her love sentimental. What aims the bow and arrow a heart is her V village daring. Quite shocking and alarming the poems red silk ties her love force the light shines romantically warm red. V Virtual reality Strawbery Sponge cake.

Her V-Valentine the first day she met him. Where she came from will we ever know? What's in the card do we win or lose to know what in store for you?

You will get to know me 
The sweets got her set
The bittersweets only yet
Plays the different drum
The Valiant V venture
Hum all *** about him
The ricochet "Russian *****"

This is not the end of the alphabet
zoomed in like the Zebra
You got me V for Visa
But Y where did the
( L)_ go we are losing some??
Alphabets 
More victories firelight sunset

Lionhearted heroic I bet
Did you throw me into Lion's den?
Refresh my L- love ******
"O" only roses pink/red sonic
Zippety do day happier
V Day the wine glasses
L-O-V- E Ecstacy

I suppose another tempting
Dose V vitamins
"Valiant Rose" Face
Such velocity
I feel pretty dancing
high castles
   "Valentine"

 Herbivore love me messy
Victorian sleeping beauty
Rose Kiss Hibiscus
Vampire rosebuds
Cherubs ****** red
Red Mercedes
Hubs of love
husbands

For the "Valiant Smart ladies"
High society noses
Pluto-Venus Starwars
V Valentino and their singles
Cappuccino in Italy Portofino
Chic centerfold V candles
Damask Rose pretentious pose

She's the V Voluptuous
Red devil ventriloquist
Pink/Wink Strawberry mousse
The Bulgarian with her cute
Pomeranian and spouse
Elephant Tusk smells
of musk E-love

"Marilyn Monroe" baguettes
Yves The Saint Laurent
So Valiant bond deep
Cut thorns of Reds
Bergdorf Blondes and
Brunettes
Valentine duet V-shape
Headset  vivacious escapes
So mindset
Never forget the one day

February 14 your
Valentine ring
heartedly set
Salute to the cadet
This is the sweet smell of Valentines day or any day that you have plenty of loving your heart will tell you don't lose that feeling be the mindset to take a sip of coffee to melt your heart inside his love words
zxndrew Oct 2018
I've put courage in my heart and lightning in my hand
I strike the ground with enough force to topple buildings
My war cry is heard from every mountain
My spirit, an eternal flame burning as bright as the sun
And my tenacity, equal to a thousand lions
My war mask hides all fear
Any advice helps, I plan on rewriting this, thanks
C E Ford Dec 2014
Four years later, and I still sit up in the same bed at night with salt-stained cheeks.
I wonder how many lives have been lost in between these sheets.
how many loves are still embedded in the fibers of the comforter,
how many rib pieces lay stashed in the pillows from those horrible, heavy sobs.

You know the ones,
Where the fire dies in your hot air-balloon lungs, and they collapse in on themselves.
You can’t say anything, or feel anything but the crushing weight of your self inflicted silence.
All you can do is gasp, and gasp, and gasp for breath, but nothing comes out. It never does.
No one ever knows how much your heart bleeds for the people you can’t stand.
You offer them olive branches, while they offer you bile, and spit poison into your eyes with each syllable from their God-forsaken lips.

Do you remember when Jesus loved you?
When His face shined upon you, and He kissed the top of your head telling you that the light you possessed was greater than the shadow it created?
He was right.
But you’re afraid of the dark,
and have to turn on every light in the house just to make it to the bathroom.
So what good are your heroics if you burn yourself from the flame inside you?

You were supposed to be great.
You were one of the chosen ones,
the Lionhearted heroine
with a heart meant to fit inside two people,
but it was stuck in your small frame by mistake.


You can’t dance to a heartbeat that powerful.
Your bones know how to waltz,
but they’re old and tired from the thousands of dances
from the thousands of lives before yours.
You understand, don’t you?
Your hips just don’t curve like they used to.

But when the song ends,
and quarter notes turn into full rests,
maybe then you’ll get some sleep.
We both need it.
SS Jan 2019
i lost myself
so i went for a drive
& the cracked payment led me here

i then pulled to the side
          on that foggy night ride
& remembered my dreams
& the mountains i'd climbed
& the dragons i'd slain
& the nights i was weak
     - but decided to stay,
          if only for
                         one
                            more
                               try
                                  to just stay
just stay,
oh please,
please stay.

so on that foggy night drive
i found myself
   on the edge of that bridge
just repeating a phrase

& then i realized:
my soul is fierce,
my heart is brave,
& from here is where all the best stories are made.
abby May 2014
Do not stretch your fingers in my direction;
I am not your ******* or your heroine;
I am no drug to be addicted to.
My body is bruised and I am bent out of shape;
My ankles are all ninety degree angles;
And my knuckles are caked in golden hues.
The callouses on my heels are peeling;
And your spitfire attitude is exhausting.
"Simmer down, firecracker;
You lionhearted girl."
I'm flying at the speed of light;
I am going to crash, a beaten down piñata;
And nobody will pick up the pieces.

Simmer down, firecracker.
I'll simmer down when I'm dead.

*(a.m.c.)
For that time Katie told me, "simmer down, firecracker" and I thought it would make a great line in a poem. Thanks kick-*** Katie.
JSL Aug 2017
I once met this French man.
Just a brief encounter; but towards the end of it he looked at me
with almost pensive eyes,
slowly he said "I could love you".
I laughed aloud.
Was it cultural differences
for him to have said that so casually?
Or was he just the brave sort?
I mocked him, of course.
Condemned his lionhearted statement even.
His eyes never left me, all the while,
they looked like a sad storm now.
Like somehow he already misses me.
And that was the last time I saw him.
Despite him asking to take me out to my favourite restaurant.
Despite him asking to take me camping underneath the stars,
Or for a midnight swim.
All the things I like, really.

A year later, and I'm still thinking about this
beautiful, brave French man.
And what could have been.
Haunted by his sugar heart.
But it wasn't my colour to romanticise happiness,
or the feeling of being wanted.
But he was right and, I was wrong.
He could have loved me.
I just didn't let him.
Wherever you are in the world,
I am sorry.
I hope you have a good life.
Epilogue: after a few months I wanted to give him (or myself, rather) the chance for this. I try to reconnect and contact him, but by that point he has already moved to another country and I was never able to talk to him ever again.
katie Aug 2019
child, don't be afraid

does the weight of the world feel heavy on your shoulders?
does your love mirror the affection that you're given?
do you feel alone when the lights go out?

there's a glimmer of hope shining through the pavement
can you see a new beginning,
like the one you've been craving?

is it enough to make you get through the day?
or are your demons chasing you,
throwing you back into the fray?

child, don't be afraid

are you aware that you are the only one in the world?
can you see how lovely you have the potential to be?
do you have the courage to wholeheartedly be yourself?

please, don't feel alone
when it all comes crashing down.
thought about dima while writing this in class, so here you go .
serpentinium Feb 2018
i. lionhearted girl
with teeth and ambitions bared
in a gentle heart.

ii. the strongest metals
between iron and silver
are your elements.

iii. a force of nature
like a warm ray of sunshine
on a winter day.
just some galentine's haikus for my 3 favorite gals!!
The Noose Mar 2014
Serenity under the ripe lurid sun
The steady breeze of air
From the mountain peak
Created sublime hymns
of rebirth and restoration
And filled the chasm in my heart
Through and through

Enclosed in auroras majestic luminescence
Weightless and lionhearted
Unconstrained by trivialities
Of everyday obligations
I pondered on the authenticity
Of new found clarity

As I fed on the tantalizing
aroma of euphoria
I savoured each breath

When I emerged
From the picturesque surrounds
I prayed I had abandoned all my convictions
In the field of yellow stained daffodils.
Kinaadman Dec 2018
A four corner chamber
where hardship intrudes and
darkness seems to be endless

Years of agony and anguish
have make the souls numb
yet still too sensitive

The anxious ones silenced their mouth
while those lionhearted tried to oppose
but failed as success is hard to reach

Pessimism?
Many candles of aspirations and hopes
had flickered to its death
and the fires that are still luminous
are relying with prayers

They are all in place
but they don't know where they are heading
as the chamber changed the routes
to the paradise where they must be

The chamber separates their wisdom
and strangles their thoughts
to create mindless puppets
that forbids to move unless controlled

But don't worry,
as you can be free from here
moving to a wider chamber
where you will conquer "life"
a darker place full of inevitable trouble
Being student is not that easy
Rachael Aug 2015
people say to me so often,
"you're so strong."
"I don't know how you deal."
"I couldn't handle that."

but do you know why I'm "so strong"?
it's because I've always had to fight.
it's because every horrible thing that I have ever been through made me this way.
it's because every time I've been ******* over, left for dead, dissed and forgotten.. I got up, brushed myself off and kept it moving.
it's because I believed in brighter days and overcoming the obstacles that life threw at me to get there.

but don't get the wrong idea.
i've broken down so many times, you couldn't fathom.
wanted to end my life so many times, you can't imagine.
so please don't doubt..
that I've never been weak.
never been brought to my knees.
begging God to help me please.

i've been through it.
the whole 'why me, why here, why now'.
but I've learned that you don't question the process because later is greater.
you don't fight the process, just have faith in the Creator.
you gotta trust the process so you can see the progress.

And I've heard that whatever a man thinks he is, so shall he be.

Therefore,

I am..
Powerful.
I am..
Courageous.
I am..
Wise.
I am..
Lionhearted.
I am...
Strength.

[r.r.r.w]
A little explanation as to why I am who I am.. Very few know my story but those that do know that I do my best to encourage people in similar situations. I'm sure some can relate. Shout out to Nas for speaking my life in one line. If you don't learn to overcome your problems (the process) then you will never see your strength (the progress). I pray you see you brighter days. And I hope that this helps.
emily Mar 2014
you are made of many girls,
all longing to be lighter,
softer, sweeter, less hurt,
less intense, not
a burden to bear.

your kiss scalds with the promise
of forevers. you swore your allegiance
to boys who were unsure of you,
left them dizzied & breathless,
yearning for the empty space
you once filled,
the missing lodestone,
left them lost.

you struggled ceaselessly through the fire,
rubbed salt in your own wounds.
i can still trace the story of your suffering
in scar tissue sewn across wrists.
but you need never apologize.
the wildfires burning in your wake
may have scorched & singed your skin,
but you are not yet scattered ashes.

do not say ‘I’m sorry’ for survival.
your brain is a battleground,
marred with years of misuse,
but you need never apologize for what you are.
when they ask about your flaws, tell them
what it took to get from then to now.
tell them you are lionhearted.

remember, you are a cosmic body.
your bones are  made of starstuff
& when you breathe in,
welcome the universe
filling your lungs.
Your llove is nectarous
Yes I said nectarous
It is of nature
It is delicious and sweet
Your love is courageous
It is brave and fearless
Your love is bold
Your love is daring
Your love is lionhearted
Your love is venturesome
Your love is kind
Your love is beautiful
Your love is perfection

*but most importantly your love is mine.
The Noose Dec 2017
Serenity under the ripe lurid sun
The steady breeze of air
From the mountain peak
Created sublime hymns
of rebirth and restoration
And filled the chasm in my heart
Through and through

Enclosed in auroras majestic luminescence
Weightless and lionhearted
Unconstrained by trivialities
Of everyday obligations
I pondered on the authenticity
Of new found clarity

As I fed on the tantalizing
aroma of euphoria
I savoured each breath

When I emerged
From the picturesque surrounds
I prayed I had abandoned all my convictions
In the field of yellow stained daffodils
I penned this in the formative years of my writing.
Dom Nocturne Dec 2016
Be my muse
Entangle me with fear
A blossoming lotus
Makes me lionhearted
Quickly still
Powerful will
Gather the disseminated members
We shall proceed to the next
The chassis is ready
Caress my heart
Be my muse
Embodied in violet
It sinks to my bones
Elegance perceived
Luminosity received
I cut off ******* from the hand of the poet who can’t stop from writing the hymns of her.
I put them in my ears so I could escape the redundant song
About the girl with the face that inspired the seas and it’s depths
And the sun
And the moon
And the stars
And a spirit that defeated them all
I would’ve used two of my own, but I need all 10 to compose this sacrilegious psalm

Because I value Beauty not
Although I guess it’s only me
They’ll adorn your scars as long as they don’t bleed
and applaud your broken bones as long as they aren’t visible through busted seams
And they live to hear her story
No matter how old or recent
But If you look like the hell you’ve gone through they’d rather you just
Didn’t.

Or perhaps you prefer that narrative
of hate
And slaughter
And lust
But no matter how many time it’s spun
I still can’t seem to trust

The girl with the mind that dared to lock eyes with the void and it’s breadth
And time
And space
And death
And a soul that embraced them all
She’s prayed for the devil one too many times and that’s probably why he won’t leave her alone

Cause she’ll  tell you her name is fearless
And that she’s mystical and cold
But really she’s Banality
And her lionhearted stories
Old
I suppose it’s not her fault
Nor is it Beauty’s either
That their tales are all derivative
And clichéd, their Author’s leisure

They’re shrines to archetypal aspiration
Overwatered brain garden
Concept vegetation
So I pulled up Beauty’s roots
And those of Banality too
And reveled in their surprise as a **** like me ripped them from the view.
And I plant them here with me
amongst the blooming Apostasies
And how willingly they drink
My Eucharist of impiety

And now I sit with open veins
And written in my blood this
Antiphon remains
But since we’re all just echoes in the void
I’ll know  you’re lying if you say
you didn’t lick your fingers anyway
when turning the pages of this introit
But now I am weary and my mind is dark; I can no longer distinguish right from wrong. I need a guide to point my way.... And yet -- and yet you have forbidden the shedding of blood.... What have I said? Who spoke of bloodshed?
-- Orestes, "The Flies" by Jean-Paul Sartre


1.
Ever the wisecracking bully,
Zeus trips atop Mt. Olympus
and tumbles into the Greek
borough of Argos -- a bumbling
deus ex machina sans any
working machina.

At last upright, he shouts,
"Look, Hera, no hands!"
then turns to mock Orestes
for his lifelong exile from
this, the city of his birth. Orestes
picks his teeth with his broadsword

and yawns. He has returned to Argos
to avenge the killing of his father,
Agamemnon, mighty general
and king, who led the long, dark
charge in the endless war against Troy.
Vengeance for Helen was his alone.

Now humiliation mounts on the back of ******.
Queen Clytemnestra gleefully joins in
the fatal mischief of her lover, Aegistheus.
His ambition: to be king. What else?
Hers: to replace the man she once loved, but who
left her bed empty for more than a decade.

War does that, you know. It requires sacrifice,
commands it, calls it duty. Nobody wants
to play that game, nobody wants to pay
the price for raging injustice, for the dangerous
rescue of the divinely beautiful Helen,
snatched away from Menelaus, brother

to Agamemnon, now Mycenae's scapegoat
of shame. Shame, guilt, rage, cunning, lust
for power, lust for queens and kingdoms,
hubris, maniacal ambition, evil run rampant
like an unwatched child, wooden sword
in hand, babbling for glory -- such

are the spoils of war on the domestic
front. Such the sorry state of kingdoms
whose king fights from afar in absentia.
Argos suffers. Each year, the ritual of bringing the
dead up from hell conjures a plague of over-sized
flies, befouling the people, who wallow in repentance,

perhaps even for their silent collusion in glorifying the king's
killing. And so Orestes returns for yet another reason: to liberate
the carrion city from the sickly, yearly confessions of wrongdoing
that attract the flies; a sickly, yearly punishment for those
long past sickness, long past even the remotest possibility of
condoning Aegistheus' dispatch of Orestes' noble, unarmed father.

2.
Orestes vows to avenge that death, only to be harried
by the flies. He will save Argos from its plague of
Clytemnestra's crime, collaboration with evil, all for
the sake of pleasure, not only in her royal bed, but
in seeing her subjects futilely try to atone for sins
she and Aegistheus have imputed to them. Such is
the queenly power that only an equally royal son

can shatter with his shining broadsword,
destined for use in eviscerating the farcical
couple defiling Agamemnon's crown, defrauding
Argos of its rightful rule of power, majesty,
and dignity. So long in the dark, the people
recite their own defilement, covered in flies
and false feelings of failure. No one dares

speak against it, for that, too, is sin. Zeus
presses his stammering stamp upon the ritual.
Electra, Orestes' wavering sister, willing to sacrifice
her own sanctity to the swarming flies, does not trust
her brother’s might or plan until he swings the sword
at Aegistheus' blackened brain, plunges it
into his mother's blackened heart, which pours

anemic blue blood onto the palace floor,
bubbling with sapphires of retribution,
with the beauty of righteous indignation,
now claimed by Orestes in his father's name.
The son shall inherit the throne, yet he chooses –
relying on nothing but his own free will -- to adorn
himself with the flies, liberating the people of Argos

from their misery, and pursuing a path of
infinite freedom away from the city. Little
does he know that les mouches will buzz
their way behind him in the form of Furies, Greece's
classic haranguers of the guilty, of the criminal
on the run from justice, on the road to ruin.
The Furies: favorite trope of Greek choruses,

singing the doom of the unjust, the impure,
the sullied hero, no longer powerful but pathetic.
Rotten to the core. Yet Orestes again freely accepts this
burden and its stain of rightful revenge. He admits
he is no Oedipus. Yes, he has slain his mother
and slept with the lionhearted darkness
of his iron will, steadied with purified

resolution, the signature of freedom,
the sign of heroism that violates all
laws but redeems the reputation of
those who stormed the invincible walls
of Troy, site of Greece's grandest victory,
driven by a giant horse and Odysseus'
wily wit and wisdom. To take part

is an honor, leading the fight an apotheosis
that a sword-swinging son can inherit,
carrying it on his shoulders as protection
from the Furies’ terrifying talons, their blood lust
for human courage -- not to possess its fearlessness,
but to **** it dry like the receding sea on the shores
of Ilium (ancient Troy), like the fading memory

of Clytemnestra's crime, now shrouded in gowns
of legend, of myth, of Aeschylus' Oresteia, of Sartre's
"The Flies", ancient and modern renditions of tales
that shower the human race with virtues even poor Zeus
cannot fathom, with his tired, lightning-addled brain, hounded
forever by Hera's imperious, Olympian disdain, free of every
working machina save the immortal pulleys of pride.
Travis Green Aug 2022
I get lost in your riveting city-dwelling litness
Adventurous prodigious, and lionhearted marvel
Dominating unshakable manfulness
I seep into the boldness of your dopeness
Your ripping rockin’ rapture

You enwrap me in your mantastically smashing rareness
Attract me to your sparkling stalwart sauciness
Authentic inventive symmetry
Eccentrically brilliant and poetic tastefulness
You are an indelible velvet treasure
That turns my homosexualness on

With your raw unchartable amorosity
You emanate exhilarating captivatingness
You electrify my earthly nerves
Your immersiveness circles my inner world
Bounds me to your bright sound dreamland
Tita Halaman Oct 2020
So there, my lionhearted defier
Who plucked my doubts behind my sleeves
I was never good, nor even better
Yet among the alphabet, I’m his boldest letter

He rarely smiles, he rarely reacts
Yet I know his core, he paid a heed for sure
For around his neck, above his head, I lived
My co-pilot, the author of my journey’s creed
Buumba Munene Nov 2022
Breakups are for the brave:- those who do not fear to continue their lives alone when the bi-cycle ends and their ride or die leaves when the ride has died.

Those courageous enough to carry themselves up when their lover lets them down and those valorous enough to accept that they will never hear words of the person that called them dear because those words now deafen the heart’s ear.

Breakups are for those ready to be the latest lionhearted lonely losers—the spunky sobbing second-soulmate-seekers.

No coward can part with the person that pats their body parts when life poses pitiless; no one has ever said “it’s over” and meant it without being valiant-

and so, the next time you feel you are done, I hope you will be brave enough to be done.
migayle ocuaman May 2019
The voice of true men stand in stifle
Through the flash and thunderous roar of guns
Their steel shined arms be the charm of rifles
Bleeding onward charging hordes that rush

True lionhearted brothers took to the field
Who undaunted as they answered the call
Sons and guards of liberty who never yield
Tall and wavering yet strong as a stonewall

Mustered men in hasty unfazed motion
Colors leading high touch by the light
Rising spirits filled with helm of devotion
Through the battle torn horrid sight

Plunge to the purging blaze of battle
Battle cries that ring loud through the abyss
The strength of mortal men's stalwart fate
As the rifle crack and the bullet hiss

Boys filled pale with fright and panic flight
Where the butchered slaughter swells
Avenging swords clash in mid-fight
Frenzied fierce glory as stout martyrs fell

Blurred haze of men in agonizing struggle
Wave of entangled brazen bodies
Wailing and mourning they rustle over
blazing fire that rages that never cease

Till the grave of the valiant have fallen
May they rise to the Lord of Hosts
Till final judgement be given solemn
To we who endure give you your last toast
Travis Green Dec 2022
Make my eyes roll back
Make me react with rare passionate gasps
To every mad smashing motion you make
When you penetrate my entrance
When you **** my gayness

Cuddle up to my lovingness
Freak me relentlessly
Bust in my hot stuff
Catch me off balance
Render me speechless

Eat me up like thick buttery grits
Feel on my long, artistic rod
And massive *******
Buff up my fresh, seductive construction
Immerse me in your astonishing hot tsunami

Let your hunkiness stunt through my stunningly sultry jungle
Getting lit with my ****
Beat it up, make me erupt
Like a historically and largest active volcano
I see the deep and unending hunger
In your phenomenally charming eyes

How you lick my spine up and down
Allow your perfect fiery smoke
To roll throughout my wide flaming hole
Badass spectacular splash
You punch through my guts

Cause me to feel rare, uncontrolled spasms
Hug and rub me, make me become a demented druggie
Mesh my fabulously velvety flesh
With your blooming smellgood pulchritude
Let me check out how you work
Your villainous black pipe

How you enshroud me in your galvanizing vibe
Make me wanna groove
With your sweaty sumptuous architecture
Let your enrapture and ****** my ****
Make my head spin like spinning shimmery rims
I love it when you stroke it in slow motion

Make me gung **, doped up
Conquer me, massage me
Be my smooth succulent superman
Be my ardent lionhearted man
Rejuvenate my inner space
Take me into your seamless, timeless realm
Of vast ever-growing pleasures

Push deeper into my delicate angelic essence
Make me want you like a delicious sticky lollipop
Kiss me immensely, drain my flame
Arouse me from head to toe
Make my dimension tremble
Express your delectable majestic finesse to me

I want you to put me under lock and key
Caress your attractive sensuous lips against mine
Whip my finger-lickin hips
Make me take all your heavily high-level hotness
In your perennially fascinating and ****** shop
Where your smart, showy unstoppableness

Tears me apart, charms me on the spot
Where you tattoo your great, dazzling machoness
On my noticeably glowing and gorgeous rearguard
My macho lover man, I relish your full, impressive *******
Especially when you explode
With your copious and potent **** egg nog
Sarah Sep 2020
I used to be a shade of blue,
our open desert
sky -
not knowing that
I'd start to
sing
& still not grasping
    why

I don't know where
music lives
or why wind
can hurt and heal
a spark,
But this happens time
and time
again,
I fall into
    red dark

I'm not denying
you're the shade
of smoke I mixed
last summer,
a canyon
filled with streaming light,
one ravine to
another

I was born red-blooded, a
lionhearted fighter
I'm gonna watch the dirt on
both our hands
expand
    like
          wildfire
Travis Green Sep 2021
I was lovestruck when I meticulously
Constructed him inside my mind
Thinking on every detail, the true hues
Of his hypnotic universe, the stunning
Structure in his charming quality
Imperishable, superhuman muscle
Accentuating highly inside my vessel
Fragrance face features, alluring dark hair,
Smooth and ample forehead, lawn green eyes
Sitting in orbit, enclosed by the eyelids
And eyelashes, distinctive nose, rosy peach
Lips, thick, rounded neck, majestically made chest,
Fresh flat abdomen his V-line, his thunder ***
Stunner so heavy-veined and huge, impressive
Chestnuts, indomitable, dopetastical thighs
Lionhearted legs and fantabulous feet
Everything I could think of to forge
The most extremely enjoyable
Attention-grabbing and well-designed
Man that could make me feel satiated

— The End —