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Alyssa Underwood Dec 2016
O morning sky of endless blue
Tinged with purply-pinky hue
You tell me of His mercies new
Whose heart pursues my own

O geese in wingèd winter's flight
Your honking cries arouse delight
And lift my gaze to seek thy sight
As wooing from His hand

O softest breeze which skims my face
And stirs with such mysterious grace
My soul to reach for Love’s embrace
You brush me with His kiss

O snowflakes falling to the ground
You pierce my heart without a sound
To crave a purity only found
Beneath a bloodied cross

O setting sun in half-light glowing
Waning day’s last glorious blush showing
You paint with fire my spirit’s own knowing—
This life is fading fast

O stars of midnight’s blackest sky
Paraded forth, you pull my eye
Toward One Who speaks this ceaseless cry:
“I’m coming back for you.”

O creeping fog to dawn’s light clinging
You whisper, Love’s veiled message bringing,
With haunting echoes faintly singing,
“Lose all of you in Him.”
~~~

"The heavens declare the glory of God; the skies proclaim the work of His hands. Day after day they pour forth speech; night after night they reveal knowledge. They have no speech, they use no words; no sound is heard from them. Yet their voice goes out into all the earth, their words to the ends of the world."  ~ Psalm 19:1-4a

~~~
Alyssa Underwood Nov 2015
O morning sky of endless blue
Tinged with purply-pinky hue
You tell me of His mercies new
Whose heart pursues my own

O geese in wingèd winter's flight
Your honking cries arouse delight
And lift my gaze to seek thy sight
As wooing from His hand

O softest breeze which skims my face
And stirs with such mysterious grace
My soul to reach for Love’s embrace
You brush me with His kiss

O snowflakes falling to the ground
You pierce my heart without a sound
To crave a purity only found
Beneath a bloodied cross

O setting sun in half-light glowing
Waning day’s last glorious blush showing
You paint with fire my spirit’s own knowing—
This life is fading fast

O stars of midnight’s blackest sky
Paraded forth, you pull my eye
Toward One Who speaks this ceaseless cry:
“I’m coming back for you.”

O creeping fog to dawn’s light clinging
You whisper, Love’s veiled message bringing,
With haunting echoes faintly singing,
“Lose all of you in Him.”
multi sumus Nov 2018
Please excuse the delinquency of this introduction

Our reluctance
             to the judgements
                        of the agents
                                   of destruction

We wanted to write a few prose so those who chose could be gathering from it

The assumption
              there is something
                               an insight
                                      or deduction

And while concidering the possible repercussions We might be facing

The presentation
        this present state in
                   which the statements
                               press mentation

We're sure to procure closure in the vulnerable over exposure

with exhorted
               supplications
                              by esoteric
         ­                                revelations
                               
In the beginning lets just start with a na-ame

                   Multi Sumus
                 "We Are Many"
          All of one and the sa-ame  

                environmental
                     incidental
       so there's no ONE to bla-ame

                  Amalgamated
                   Complicated
      yet We're feeling no sha-ame


   Cursed with this blessing by the charts of Our births

    Compounded by experience throughout the time on this earth

   Situation realization through extensive research

                  Ameliorating
                   Emendating
          till returned to the dirt


               So it's obvious
              there's lots of Us
                      Innocuous
                 We promise this
                 with confidence

influencingcongruent  
                          confluence
               of the congregants
              by this augmented
                           auspicious
                           cognizance

                           auspices
                             operable
    in Our neurological
                       acropolis

                        
 Okay, now that We have your um "unndivided" attention

The ****** descention intentional

With potential illicit material

Exotic content individuals

Unequivocal extreme of the
physical

Inciting the violence eventual

With depraved images into the temporal


  And just when you thought We couldnt exacerbate this already exasperating elaborate facade

  Now We have you fascinated thinking We're ******* to The Marque De Sade!

Post deliberation- Psychopathia Sexualis as bed time stories was kind of odd

But The Kama Sutras' pages had hastened degradation from where they'd been gnawed!

   There were a few more things we want to sit down and talk about

Like the fact that We're actually celibate
The distain for institutionalised education
and dropping out

Thats alot of intimate information
  "How could We ever let this happen?"

To be honest We're just honored to give some fodder for your defamation of character cannon!
 
  So before you begin your rapacious onslaught of malevolent inspection!

   We've already detected all the things that's presumed you've currently rejected!

   With proverbial red pen in hand you've commenced your conceited correcting!

   And your futile fervent attempt, in leaving Us feeling extremely dejected!

   your annoyance with the performance of deforming poetic normalcy

The convulsive compulsions of the expulsions of the compulsory

            Conclusions include:
                 Literal assault
                          and
                Literary battery

And cleaning from the cathodes This convoluted corrosion of conformity!


    Without trying to sound hostile
                          though it's possible
                                   that a hospital
        istheonlyinstitutionthatcan
                    ­                    jostle those
                                              illogical
   ­                    pre con ceived
               fossilisedmisconceptions

                       ­ All the while though

your just seeking attention for the aforementioned


Alright, Well We're not gonnna be a denying it

because We're constantly being reminded of

rhyming with defiant defining an

the metre maids retirement  

"She's been lying?!"
                    "Oh Geez!
                           She's fired then!"

cause its trying-trying to inspire realigning the tongue from relying on tying to find it!

        
      Gerunds are whoreable!

         /'speliNGz/ deplorable!

scriptioscripturascriptacontinua!...
"?"

(n)irony{8}>(adj)ironic+suffixally

(adv)       Ironically      {8}{3}­   (adj)         moral!          [3]|B2|
(adv)    Rhetorical­              [2a]
(adv)        ******!                   [1]

{dictionary.com}[merriamwebster]
|cambridge dictionary|

nunciatesinuateunctuateunciate!...
"There is no way We c"


   With atrocious verboseness
   who'd notice the odious?!

"We are not! gonna stan"

     01000001 01100100
        01110110 01010000!...

"Wait! i dont th"


   yllacitammarg cihpromanA
    tor/sion/ed          /vern/acular!

             ^                       ^
  CUL/t u r/AL PER/spect/IVE•

  <PECULIAR {2}  [] [] {}{}  L•VE>

"UughH!"¡"UughH!"¡"UughH!"
"STOP!
              STop!

(adj)[1:2a]    stop! Wha' what are you doing?!"
".."
"No no, you get offof there!"
-(motioning with finger)
"And you two! Mmf!"
-(shaking head upwards)
           "~" "~"
"Don't use that tone with me!"
                "="
"Alright then"        
-(stern nod)
-(salaci•us grin while smacking both bottoms as walking past ;)

(adj)[1]
"Now what do you think your doing?"
-(quickly turning towards other)
"……,…"
"Rreally?"
"……!.."
"And how is that helpful?"
-(crossing arms)
"….-¿lol"
"Did i ask you fo?"
"…..-~¿"
"And you are entitled" "¡" "to" "¡" "your" "¡" "•pinion."
"…!"
"i understand, yes"
"…;~
!"
"Yes"
"~#"
"YES!"
-(opening arms)
"just talk WITH Us about these issues."
-(hand on shoulder)

(n){8}{9}
"……"
"No fret, May We continue?"
"!"
"Go•d"
"!"
"Now, Would you be so kind?"
-(gesturing towards player)
".."
"thank you."
-(humble nod)
"…,……^?"
"They wouldn't be able hear it anyway"
"?"
-(shaking head downward closing eyes)

               "Because it is written"
                              

     (We now return you to the
    regularly scheduled program
            already in progress
)
                              

…attenuating circumstance by objectionable technical difficulties


  Continually conjugating with;        
intellectually
infectional
inflectional
abilities

    But these consensual;
contemptually
abjectionable
contextual
similes

   has Us postulating that with;
exceptionally
inceptional
correctional
humilities

   there's a deduction exponentially of;
potentially
subjectionable
conjectural
tendencies


  We're very much obliged that you would grace us with your presence
   in essence
   it's evident
you take precedence
being prevalent
   and the
relevance of your acceptance
to Our all exclusive
    intrusive collusion
is proving profusely
  that the astute
  can irrefutably
elude the obtuses'
       rebuking


And although We're not looking
                           for
                    justification
                just in case then
               the arrangement
             with it's placement
                   of degrading
                     statements
                        ajacent
                   ­       to the
                         blatent
                    and flagrant
                   abnormalities
                 with the falacies
                 of formalities in
                    a-all actuality
                     being valid
                         via the
                      vehement
                           and
                      venenated
                      vituper­ate
                       veracities

  And just so you know the list of pressumptions is deliberately
unexhaustive
At the cost of
your responses
involving constant devolving nonsense
in the comments
on the contents
full of copious despondent obstinance
But as optimists
Our only option is
hopes that it's the conglomerate
your being honest with

                 And please,
                     We ask,
         That you use your true profile when you begin your posting

  That we can ALL see the blood of a "real" poets muse
            flow from the pen

                  So in closing...

Next time you make the
           decision to visit them
             with your insolence

                 machiavellist
            hypercritical cynic,
               Remembering a

            six minute version
          "authority" usurption
               deserving by an

                              •

                    Uneducated
       Mental Fragmental Eunich
                   Eunoterpsian

          
           Filling your head with
     thoughts you wish to jetison
              by suggestions of

              ingestions with a
     taste of your own medicine!
        When you rest your head

          sugar plums won't be
    dancing, substantial chances
            you will be glancing

          a couple more times,
          We hear repetition is
             good for a growing

                             •

         Mind you that We left
         easter eggs to quantify
            attendance, intense

                attention on Us
      at least you will be leaving
               the others alone

             We just wanted to
           take this opportunity
                            to cast the first stone.
Donatien Alphonse François
  Marquis de Sade
1740-1814

Psychopathia Sexualis (Psychopathy of ***), by Richard Freiherr von Krafft-Ebing, 1886

The Kama Sutra (/ˈkɑːmə ˈsuːtrə/; Sanskrit: कामसूत्र  is an ancient Indian Hindu writing by Vātsyāyana
400 BCE-200CE

https://hellopoetry.com/poem/3099453/first-stone-ode-to-trolls-extrapolated-i/

https://hellopoetry.com/poem/3099476/first-stone-ode-to-trolls-extrapolated-ii/
Francie Lynch Jul 2018
The hair is almost normalized,
The hands we hardly notice,
Real news is, with my ensemble,
A red tie splashes well.
I bear your false witness,
The hookers and the lies,
I'd get the heebie-jeebies,
If I ****** with the FBI.

But the skin, the skin,
What color's that,
That hides the blackness found within.
That wraps a frame that wracks the sane,
And covers a skull with dubious brains.
It conceals the bloated air,
From lungs to lips,
From bowels to his finger tips.
It doesn't matter how his fits,
It can't conceal he's full of ****.
Lazhar Bouazzi Jun 2016
As the shape all sun
tore up the curtain
of blood and ululation,
everything in Tunisia,
as stricken by a wand,
came to a standstill,
and slipped away
from the senses -
Even rivers stopped.

Medjerda* froze
halfway
through the descent
to his destination,
as he realized
he’d been making a fatal error:
pouring forth all his passion
into the ocean.

So he stopped,
retracted his course,
re-collected himself,
and started flowing backward,
toward
the source
in the Atlas
that had bidden him
farewell.

In his spear head
there was a design:
start a new chaos
in the valley,
in which there would be
a sweet-water lake
and sailors drunk
with sunbeams, sweat
and pleasure.
Butterflies would flutter
around the scent of mint
and bluegreen rosemary.
Sweet Moon to Sweet Lake
would come, unannounced,
In the rays of the nightlight
of the fluttering night
to watch her self
shoot
the scene
of representation.

The river, now swimming
in his own water,  
carried the sky on his shoulder,
while an ant and a grasshopper,
holding a basket together,
watched the new scene.

As the figure all sun appeared ,
reason melted;
imagination
her hazel eyes opened.

*Medjerda is the most important river in Tunisia. Length, 460 km; basin area, 22,000 sq km. It flows out of the Atlas mountains into the Gulf of Tunis.
© LazharBouazzi, June 16, 2016
*Medjerda is the most important river in Tunisia. Length, 460 km; basin area, 22,000 sq km. It flows out of the Atlas mountains into the Gulf of Tunis.
O fast day that trembles at the sight of Moon -
when will your warm arms bend again
the night's thick armor
that shades the world of joyous muse?
 
It is most facetious in its illusion,
that renegade of pale indifference,
when daylight dwindles and leaves more to imagine
than can be seen with naked eye.
 
Beneath the gaze of Her taunting face,
people do not walk as done in light -
suddenly, trudging and stumbling are hip styles of mobility.
Everywhere faces covered in guilt, remorse, fatigue -
all things the sun can wash away with a simple,
lucid grin.
 
If brightest light were set ablaze in the midst of night,
would not the people be plucked from false sanctuary
which darkness so convincingly provides?
In that case, many a lost mind could be free;
if only to see clearly through effervescent haze.
 
O blessed Sun!
With your arousal, Truth and Freedom will also reprise -
until again that blank, daunting stare casts its malevolent glow on Delusion.
Prose from a street-lit bench.
Sun of love is shining
Blinding the face of hate
Uprooting evil trees
Planting rainbows in the sky

It's time to worship
To adore at the shrine of love
To bury hate in infernal grave.

It takes an orchestra
To make a symphony
It takes efforts to love

When love flows in rivers
Banks of life are flooded with glory
All is covered by and thrilled in beauty.

What compares to thee O Love?
Nothing and nothing
Let your music flows O Love
And'll dance to the Nirvana!
English Jam Nov 2018
When I was younger I hated bread crusts
But now
I could drown myself in it
I think it's ironic that my first poem to trend in several months is a three line joke I came up with in the shower about bread crusts.
Timothy Dec 2016
Sleep, Mary, sleep alongside our dear Lord
A holy picture for all men to see
That King of glory and incarnate Word
Now cradled infant mortal child He be;
When all at once some village shepherds keep
Watching their sheep—abundant angels sing—
Told where to find this Saviour fast asleep,
And with great haste sought Yeshua the King.
Still coming forth from distant lands, wise men,
Approaching later on—Epiphany—
Bring finest gifts into their humble den
And bow in worship, rev'rence, on their knee.
     But wise men seek our Lord within these days,
     And keep Him in their hearts, and give Him praise.
© Timothy 24 December 2016
Yeshua - Jesus.
Epiphany - the manifestation of Christ to the gentiles as represented by the Magi (Matthew 2:1–12).
#Christmas #Jesus #Yeshua
Shin Dec 2013
I don't know how to write happy poems
because I don't really believe in them.
I thought angst would die with adolescence,
but alas I can still feel its cold dint.

Perhaps like virginity this goes too;
no longer a creep standing idly by.
Plastic smiles taped to our cardboard faces
and yours alone I felt the need to prise.

That's okay, because the teenaged rosebud
that we claim to be so very unique
is beginning to wither, can't you see?
And now it's the thorns society seeks.

So look out over yonder cityscape.
Your mask shall be shed only by the moon.
Until then, a cartographer of love;
yours that is, we'll still pathetically swoon.
Kato Locke Feb 2017
Seemingly small and insignificant,
It sits atop my finger, like a bird perched on a branch.
A symbol of great power,
Yet shrunken and frail as paper.
Its hidden beauty rivals those of
Aphrodite.
My love for it swells
Like a well after a heavy rain.
Oh, this paper crown,
Its simple beauty
Is a gold as pure as any other.
Its paleness is greater than snow,
Its weight light, but heavier than
the empire it represents.
This paper crown, worthy of a Queen.
This was written for a class project
Lazhar Bouazzi Feb 2017
As the shape-all-sun
tore up the curtain
of blood and ululation,
everything in Tunisia,
as stricken by a wand,
came to a standstill,
and slipped away
from the senses -
Even rivers stopped.

Medjerda* froze
halfway
through his descent
to his destination,
as he realized
he’d been making a fatal error:
pouring forth all his passion
into the ocean.

So he stopped,
retracted his course,
re-collected himself,
and started flowing backward,
toward
the source
in the Atlas
that had bidden him
farewell.

In his spear head
there was a design:
start a new chaos
in the valley,
in which there would be
a sweet-water lake
and sailors drunk
with sunbeams, sweat
and pleasure.
Butterflies would flutter
around the scent of mint
and bluegreen rosemary.
Through the flutter
of the midnight hour
Sweet Moon to Sweet Lake
would come, unannounced,
to watch her self shooting
the act of representation.

Now swimming
in his own water,
th river
carried the sky on his shoulder,
while an ant and a grasshopper,
holding a basket together,
watched the new scene.

As the figure-all-sun appeared ,
reason melted;
imagination
her hazel eyes opened.

© LazharBouazzi

*Medjerda is the most important river in Tunisia. Length, 460 km; basin area, 22,000 sq km. It flows out of the Atlas mountains into the Gulf of Tunis.
N Sep 2018
to those who say suicide is selfish and cutting is pointless,
understand you can never comprehend what they dealt with.

you may say you have it worse than they did,
on deeper levels that **** was well hid.
somethings easy for you may be hardest for others.
it's not easy to leave mothers, fathers, friends, and siblings.

your strength my weakness, your weakness my strength
those who suffer go through many trials of a never ending darkness.
some wear their scars on their sleeves,
others hide it tucked well deep beneath.
help sometimes is not what they really need.

I can assure you this wasn't a selfish and greedy deed,
they loved you so much, more than you will ever know.
sometimes in an ironic way, the better is finally letting go.

whether you believe in afterlife or rather nothing at all
remember the best of times, and for them stand proud and tall.
their presence may no longer reside on our earth,
but forever in our hearts and mindw they shall always remain.

we will never fully understand and comprehend,
but i know we will all reunite in the end.
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