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Nicholas Mar 15
Universal entropy,
masking it’s plan

Perceivable good and
evil, much more than so

A light waiting to be shone
beyond which we can ever comprehend

Camouflaged, patient;
wickedness one day proving itself
God’s rippling gift

And yet, the present seems bleak,
The great unknown rests
behind a curtain,
even to you

Keeping us suspended
above countless destinies below,
those realities flickering like traffic from
a private city rooftop

Our actions,
for an audience we are unaware exist
So not for naught,
do indulgences befall

Some good can come of our mistakes,
even if it's to faces we'll never know
An attempt to explore the implications of the butterfly effect and how our actions as individual, no matter how seemingly random or potentially evil they may be, may inadvertently impact people we'll never meet in some positive way.
MeanAileen Mar 2017
I'm in love with a man I know not to love
his heart will never be free.
I waste my days
a slave to his ways-
knowing he will never love me.

He is the secret I can never reveal
the best lover I ever have known.
I've nothing to give
but my body.....it's his-
fresh dirt for him to bury his bone.

Hopelessly hooked on him like a drug
wanting him day and night.
I play his ***** game
I have no shame-
taking it all, knuckles white.

Dead is the conscience I knew so well
and morals.....they ran far away.
Clarity now blurry
in a love-drunk slurry-
the 'good me' has gone astray.

To lay with him is playing with fire,
the flames, they burn me alive.
Leaving me marred,
hurting and scarred-
the pain on which I thrive.

A fool for punishment, I beg for more
even if all I am worthy of is ****.
Loving him breaks me...
it overtakes me-
but I'm not willing to quit.

I die a little more each passing day
until again, I get lost in those eyes....
All doubts go away,
so for now I'll stay
living this life of lies.
You can't always help who you fall in love with...
Engulfed by light /
eyes open wide/
my pupil turns white/
  it’s nothing to stand in the impenetrable heat. /
The sun stands before you/
with all of your turmoils  /
your mind is my glory hole !/
The powerful gust from a huge fan i trust/
was disguised as an infinite beam as it lifts me/
dematerialize the old grains of me/
The wind spreads her love unconditionally
/DESERT JASPER /
what morals are you after?
In the face of sadism
the expression of laughter.
Kim Essary Aug 2018
Sometimes our eyes don't see even though they are wide open.
Mistakes are plenty but humbling ourself to admit them is few and far between.
Could we survive only on our needs instead of our wants?
Do most even know the difference?
So many things in life we take for granted.
Why is it so hard to compliment the things done right yet so easy to point out all you believe to be wrong.
The world as we use to know it was full of morals, manners and respect.
The world as we know it today is is full of rudeness, hate and violence .
A man use to stand for what he believed and his word his honor.
Now he stands behind nothing and speaks no words of what he believes or doesnt.
Who made the world as it is today I ask, as I already know the answer.
It's easy to blame our "leaders", our neighbors, or the generations before or after, but my friends, my brothers and sisters, if we speak the truth as we know it, it was you and I that changed this world when we stood silent.
©kimmied1105
If we all stood for what we believed in and stopped standing back in silence each and all of us are to blame for the ways of our world today.
Maya Feb 2018
we make up demons
so that we have someone to blame
when we look in the mirror
and realize that we've ****** up.
original sin is
a ******* way
of scapegoating adam and eve
so we don't have to face our own consciences at night.
the blame game
Marlita 5d
Many people feel fear
When you speak of Evil,
Their Bibles clutched dear
As their hot hearts chill.
A great deal think of Satan,
Playing God from Hell,
With his foul demonic band.
Show them a pentagram
And most fear their bodies
Will be possessed at once
By some demonic heathen
Looking for his lunch.

But I, having lived a hard life,
Fear not Satan’s treachery
Or his delivery of strife,
Nor the fabled imagery
The church once did write.
I seldom fear going to Hell
And basking in flames for eternity
Or not getting a farewell  
Into a kingdom of just divinity.

Oh no, my mind is quite filled
With the brimstone inferno
Caused by the wickedly free-willed.
Those very individuals
Who say they renounce Evil
Have beaten me to a pulp
For asking to be their equal.

So don’t be naive and let thy name be trod
By those who yell "Satan"
Only to betray God.
Aaron LaLux Sep 2018
Gettin’ ****t on like I’m The Villian,
got this queasy feeling on the line reeling,
coming undone at the same time wound up and spun,
I’m done playing but stuck at the table with The Dealer still dealing,

want to throw myself up out of myself,
can escape every position except the one I’m in,
can’t escape yourself if knowledge is wealth,
then I’m loaded & still spending my winnings,

got Karma Credit but I’m morally cash poor,
because I just fckt my girlfriend as if she was a *****,
and I feel terrible or rather horrible about it,
because i think I’m infected by what neglect did without a cure,

no one is pure,
at least I’m not that’s for sure,
I'm tainted with devils in my head painted with what I spilled I’m red,
sick with the sort of illness that can't easily be cured,

in fact got a bad case of the blues,
but instead of strumming a guitar I’m taking things too far,
cut her so bad with my fingernails,
that I fear it might leave a few scars,

tied her up so tight,
that her wrists turned purple,
see she’s attracted to bad boys,
and I warned her that that’s the type of attraction that can hurt you,

little girl shouldn’t be out past her curfew,
nothing good ever happens past midnight,
but we’re both running from something,
both stand outs in the in crowd still something doesn’t sit right,

I’m uncomfortable,
because I think maybe all humans are disgusting,
maybe we just cause each other pain and trash the earth’s surface,
maybe we deserve to feel guilty & that’s why we are all fcking distrusting,

maybe I’m gonna fckn **** myself,
but this is a card game so then again maybe I’m bluffing,
maybe everything’s going to be alright,
maybe I’m being uptight for nothing,

but I’ll tell you what I feel like the **** of my own joke,
but I don’t give a fck so instead of changing I’m just shrugging,
mean mugging every person I pass suspicious of every bloke,
because these days crime pays and everyone’s always up to something,

and I just want to get ghost,
but I can’t and I guess that’s the way it goes,
so I’m sittin’ in the uncomfortable position,
of being both a role model as well as a criminal,

Gettin’ ****t on like I’m The Villian,
got this queasy feeling on the line reeling,
coming undone at the same time wound up and spun,
I’m done playing but stuck at the table with The Dealer still dealing…

∆ LaLux ∆
MJL Feb 15
Do what they do
Fight the ***** fight
Do what they do, to you
Take from them
Lie to them
Wage war without words
Their righteous greed controls the earth
They have morals for each other
Hold you down in the name of God
Fear them
Patriate them
Oppress them
Malcolmize the pain
Invert the rain
Watch it flow back up
Up into the clouds
Breaking all that is around
To let the sun shine through
Let the sun shine through
Move all that stand in your way
Move all that cast a shadow on freedom
Let the sun shine through
Follow Caucasus Mountain Pass
Do what they do
Feel your right to the sun
Feel the warmth of your freedom
Wash away the black party soot
Feel the warmth of your King
As you fall from grace
Leaving love behind to be burned
With the memory of the righteous
You rise up
Free


© 2019 MJL
The fight for freedom is often through compromised morals.
Anya Nov 2018
Sometimes,
I just fake it
Cause
It’s easier

Yes,
The test was hard
Even though,
I got a 98%

Yes,
He has a bad personality
Even though,
He’s been nothing less
Than polite
To me

Yes,
She’s so amazing at it
Even though,
I’m not too far behind

Yes,
Their relationship is going to fail
Even though,
I think it’s rude
To gossip
Behind their
Backs


These things...
And more,
It doesn’t
Change
Anything
Even if I explain
Will people even listen?
Care?

So...
I let it be
It’s             Easier
I mean,
Not when it directly hurts
Others
I do have a bottom line

But otherwise...
With shades of gray
Difficult,
To differentiate
Between
  Right
Wrong
  Good
Bad

...

I guess...
I’ll let it be

After all,
It’s


Easier?
Sometimes in life it’s really hard to know when to step in and ne when to mind your own business. And there are times when others naturally believe you agree with them but you’re to tired to explain your specific circumstances to them and just go along with what they say.
Sarah Nielle Feb 2015
Tiny hands barely able to hold a bottle,
now drink out of one,containing toxins.
Tiny ears that used to hear bad words and coo,
now spit them like wildfire.
Tiny mouths that would be forced to take icky medicine,
now pop pills and insert drugs into their being.
Tiny eyes looking at life as a breeze,no cares in the world,now turn into
eyes that crave attention but don’t care what we have to do to get it

We are spoiling the pure bodies we once had.
People are sleeping around,
when I remember the worst thing you could do is hand-hold.
We take the things we had as kids,
and ruin them.
We honestly take the cuteness and turn it into ...
well that's for you to decide.
You pick if your morals are guided with a compass,
or thrown away like garbage.
Who am i to judge?
But I've also learned,these days,My darling..
This is adolescence.
Marcus Lane Mar 2011
A proud man,
Upright and unshakable
In belief and morals,
Once only I did I see him
Without a tie.

A child of Edwardian England,
The links Of his watch chain
Glinted
As they hung
With formality and elegance
From his waistcoat pocket,
Yes, even as he worked.

And work he did.
Patiently,
Brilliantly and tirelessly
With ingenuity and imagination.
A craftsman from a bygone age.
A master of his tools.

Grandfathers are soft,
Playful, bear-like in their
Gruff-whiskered familiarity.

Not Poppy.
Unwittingly aloof from his grandchildren,
We avoided the need for directly addressing him,
Unsure of where we stood.
He’d probably have secretly
Loved the informality
Of our secret nickname.
I hope he knew.

The chapel piano did for him.
Too much weight for his work-weary ticker.

Grandma gave me his pocket watch to keep,
And for a time I treasured it,
Measuring its weight
Like a smooth round pebble
In my palm.
A workman’s watch;
Practical.
A yellowing face
Behind a scratched
And hazy glass.
But accurate,
And precise.
Reliable as the man.

Detached in life,
I liked to hope that
Gazing down,
Watching,
He just might have
Laughed
In loving acknowledgement of his
Grandson’s curiosity
And foolishness
Sitting cross-legged on the carpet,
With heart-thumping nausea

Adrift in a sea of springs.
© Marcus Lane 2010
xcvii Feb 2016
This was not the year for us,
This was a high time for breaking and shrinking and avoiding and licking and doing everything we could to shove the elephant back into the corner of the room.
It was no time for honesty-
Not at all-
It was good weather for morals to perish and for me to grasp your hand like it meant something.

This was no time for "I love you"
But we still said it
And later I talked a novel behind your back,
The same back that I read like Braille one too many times.

This is not the year for us,
And this brutal honesty now?
It's for every time I looked at you
and thought
SAY SOMETHING

.
Nat Lipstadt Dec 2016
A minyan is an assembly of ten Jews.  With ten present, the group can perform a fuller service, adding congregational prayers that an individual alone cannot say, and in heaven, received, as if from a 
more powerful, unified voice.

~~~
Satan laughing with delight at the happy news,
unusually proud of his soul-retrieving,
red state minions,
having scored late in the '16 season,
a long awaited prize,
a high priest of music, a hallelujah singer
just come  cross the borderline,
once a mere earth bound legend,
now to be mockingly enjoyed
in this, his legendary peculiar tier of heaven
~
a banner year it was, a cornucopia of new arrivals,
singers, songwriters, composers, conductors, rock 'n rollers,
itinerant blues musicians,
who as a rule, were not the most faithful observers
of the Ten Commandments and its host of detailed relatives
~
body and drug abusers,
of traditional morals, not such big users,
and as for their *** lives,
best not discussed in front of the baby devils,
just quite yet
~
all this made for easy "pluckings,"
as he smiled devilishly, his own ironic sense of humor,
an added delight for the new American Pie
that would forever serenade him henceforth
~
indeed this Leo-nine most new arrival,
intensifies the pleasure,
for deep in this one had waxed the god-spark,
his own fractured demise,
now allowing the cracks of light to be closing,
lessening by an immeasurable fraction
the despised joy to the world
-
then a raucous rustling heard,
a voice unseen but siren penetratingly heard proclaiming:

**** you Satan,
this time you've gone too far!

return unto me them all,
for you have overstepped the boundaries I have constructed
when birthed I the universe so long ago

these children, mine,
for though they were not perfect in their lives,
they perfected ever so much my designs,
the world I granted them,
with their music, voice and hands,
absolving them of all their sins

Surrender to me them all!

my Prince,
my lion, Cohen, high priest of my temple,
my haggard and worn Merle,
the greyed and Frey'd eagle, Glenn,
Natalie, daughter of the Earth King of Cole,
my rose of Sharon Jones,
my Emerson and my Lake,
Leon Russell,
my white bearded russet
who wrote 'A Song For You,'
the Duchess, Patty,
my Bobby Vee,
the first ro see
'the night has a thousand eyes,'
Frank Sinatra Jr., his fathers torch bearer,
my David, my right arm, my Bowie knife carrier,
who fell from heaven and needs returning unto me,
mine own Kanter, Jeffersonian pilot of my Airplane,
my Michael, George,
my Martin, George,
who never sang a word
but gifted us some Beatles,
My black and White Maurice,
who reignited the Earth, with Wind and Fire

all these mine and all the musicians of this year,
they have died, but not their music,
now to join my heavenly chorus,
my musicians' minyan
Second of a trilogy, but the first one posted,
about Leonard Cohen

Kohen or cohen (or kohain; Hebrew: כֹּהֵן‎, "priest", pl. כֹּהֲנִים‎ kohanim) is the Hebrew word for priest used colloquially in reference to the Aaronic priesthood. Jewish kohanim are traditionally believed and halakhically required to be of direct patrilineal descent from the biblical Aaron. The term is colloquially used in Orthodox Judaism in reference to modern day descendants of Aharon, brother of Moses.

Among the few remaining responsibility of a cohen today is the chanting of the priestly  blessing in the synagogue on high holy days in a special tune, instantly recognizable  by every Jew.   When the  Jewish priest chants the blessing, the Spirit of God is presumed to become present in the synagogue, and all bow their heads, fathers cover their children's eyes, lest one witness  god's image. Ironically, the special way that a cohen extends his arms and holds his fingers in a V  shape, was borrowed by another Canadian Jew, Leonard Nimoy, as inspiration for Spock's  greeting.

see en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Priestly_Blessing

see
//jewcy.com/jewish-arts-and-culture/leonard-nimoy-vulcan-salute-yiddish
Why is it so difficult to leave my life alone
Cast that last stone
I feel like Frankenstein the monster
And your a mob of angry county officials
Getting high on locking away my roster
Big Man you are with you excess of power
Targeting helpless youth
Who only aim to survive
To escape imprisonment alive
To everyday simply strive
For some acceptance
To be be beat down literally abused by your hand
Because our hunger over took morals
What is right
Is right being cold and hungry every night
Is right being forced into institutions
You've already chosen my life's conclusion
My dreams depict my happy illusion
Our financial status fusion
Causing an eruption of misguided confusion
I'll win this war
When when it seems every battle I'm losing
Sebastian Macias Jan 2017
I want to pull on your hair
And ravish you
And leave you for dead
In a pool of your satisfaction
Waiting for my next drive over
She had left a fresh painting out
Next to a bottle of whiskey,
Old morals, and a ticking clock
Unfortunately,
It is easier
To put-out the light
From our own inner-flame,
Than it is
To put light
Into someone's inner-darkness,
When they have no morals,
Remorse or shame.

~ Shutting off.

By Lady R.F. (C)2019
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