"persecutes" poems
Foolish men.
You trust all that is around you,
you rely on the deceit, the deception,
like it is worth dying for.
You foolish men.
You’ve gotten so good at lying
that you can’t even tell the difference,
between your truths,
from your hollow lies.
I once believed that I can live happily ever after,
just as I’d watched in the movies.
I thought that I can have powers, cast spells,
and travel to a time before my own existence.
I once believed that,
I can fly on broomsticks, that I can make objects move with my mind.
I believed that I should just leave my cares behind,
that I should run away,
instead of facing the problems of life.
That even if words would afflict me,
or if the world persecutes me,
I should do nothing.
But we shouldn’t believe everything
that passes through our ears,
for we invest too much in these.
We should remember,
that we pour over worlds that have been imagined,
and that we watch scenes that look all
too good to be true.
Do not let these falsehoods keep you restrained.
But instead, let them make you better.
Let them make you bolder, fiercer,
and let them make you achieve.
Achieve in what was thought to be impossible,
what was thought to be unobtainable,
what was thought to be unachievable.
Don't let these lies keep you down,
because it is "I once believed" for a reason.
And that reason is,
that you didn't let the lies succeed.
Sep 16, 2014
Sep 16, 2014 at 10:25 AM UTC
Something in me won’t let me be
It rots in my viscera
The fusion of wretchedness
It persecutes
Seeking me in my safest haven
Re-birth of emotions
In bloom
Dismantling the foundations
Of a strong resolve
I no more possess
Night won’t let me sleep
Once more rebuffed by mirth
Deleted by the light
Hollering for design
In the confines of a cardboard box.
Oct 1, 2014
Oct 1, 2014 at 6:35 PM UTC
Confined with restlessness.
And yet we struggle.
It ***** you from becoming.
Like a daffodil thief, they say.
The shadows will lure you.
From the darkness you made.
What is worth to live then,
When love was so elusive.
And beauty was perfected.
Is it to sacrifice, or to obey?
Which options do you fancy?
Unfamiliar faces
and more aching angles
where is your bliss,
when passion was misplaced
Until the times that I would gladly fall.
And to where my shepherd meets me.
let life be a mystery
And a mess to those who persecutes it.
When evil must be known
from the nature of good.
If I died and went to heaven...
what then am I afraid of?
Just think of me, my Lord.
like whom you are to me.
Apr 26, 2011
Apr 26, 2011 at 3:27 AM UTC
I have a feeling deep inside,
So horrible so powerful,
It rips me from inside.
I have a feeling deep inside,
So complex so painful
It tears me from inside.
I have a feeling deep inside,
So scary so morbid,
It kills me from inside.
I have a feeling deep inside,
So guilty so sinful,
It persecutes me from inside.
I have a feeling deep inside,
So alone so isolated,
It abandons me from inside.
Dec 5, 2016
Dec 5, 2016 at 5:11 PM UTC
I brokedown forth right into this eloquent state
smiles rub my warmth
and I melt harder
and harder
into breathing easily
easier then anything that ever exsisted
easier than the cool winds that blow
through your hair and then in between my sighs
and I sat down and held my knees together
on top of the wet grass where I use to remember
hearing the sweetest lullabys of childhood
crashing themeselves into my body
and I melt harder
and harder
into breathing more so easily
easier then the time I looked into your eyes and your london left its burning letter
and easier then the time I fully built up the
guts to walk away from the building where only the
floor had been built
and I closed my eyes
as I danced on top of the ruins the wars inside of me left behind
I threw my heart into the sky
forgetting the fear of having it fall on nothing
and then giving into something in that
old old world
of nothing
happiness persecutes everything inside of me
and I melt harder
and harder
into breathing more easily
Nov 2, 2010
Nov 2, 2010 at 7:54 PM UTC
A temporary abode
Built in the void
of a misguided heart
A life littered
With casualties
Of unbridled pretense
Callous and cruel
Daylight persecutes
The hands that held
Endlessly
Searching for your face
In a crowded place
He will never forget
How the sun rises and sets
In your eyes.
Jan 10, 2015
Jan 10, 2015 at 3:35 PM UTC
my eyes have sunk too deep into a passion
so far beyond me
my fingers, the bone of my marrow
which helps me speak of my disingration towards you
so masculine, myself
I have disposed of my feelings
like a man of culture
so torn from my woman
I inherit my coldness
like that of a uneducated civilian
Im prone to the pain that makes me bend like
a lost child
back curved
spine exposed
stomach caved in
hurt and dispensful
interagted
never confronted
never hearing a tongue
to help me out of my core
a distraught youth
in my abyss
towards you
burnt
smothered
winter
coldness and searing
in the heart of a love
that persecutes my existence
Nov 3, 2010
Nov 3, 2010 at 8:25 PM UTC
Cotton has a plantation,
It’s home in central Texas.
It might be your cremation.
Don’t drive up in your Lexus.
In the barn he persecutes.
Devices of mad torture.
Chainsaws, meat hook executes,
Diced and spilt into quarters.
The Bloodbath we fascinate,
Victims face he has gotten.
Oh my, he does dominate.
****** face here’s some Cotten.
May 19, 2020
May 19, 2020 at 8:18 AM UTC
I have been found
All at once,
Bad form
How terrifying this ordeal
She comes back,
Infinite resurrection
My hands are given
She persecutes me,
Foolish again
The last of you
Power fades away,
I'm taken
If this life is,
a carnival
I sure as hell,
pulled a
Straw so very short,
I'm the invincible thrill,
the roller coaster,
Detour,
one door
You guess it?
© Sia Jane
Apr 10, 2014
Apr 10, 2014 at 3:34 PM UTC
Oh Almighty
Gad mercifully
strengthen me
to do Valliantly,
before my enemies.
Put to shame
those who
contend with me.
Many are those
who rise up
against me.
They hate me
without cause,
because I depend
on thee, for thy
glory oh Lord,
let them be cloth
with adversities,
and dishonor
and let their own
evil devices come
to their *****
Set thy servant's
feet on high and
uphold me for
Thee art the
rock of my
salvation. My
Gad in whom I
put my trust.
And I will sing
praises to Thee
through the whole
world, Gad my
father, and Lord.
Millions of people
shall praise Thee
on my cause, Thy
Holy Name be
glorified, people
shall praise Thee
oh Lord. Lest the
wicked rejoice and say
YE Lord is no
more. But because
of THY GREAT
existence, oh Lord YE
shall subdue below
me my adversities.
And all my enemies
shall be confounded
and condemned.
In the Mighty
name of Jesus!
AMEN, Selah!
#C9fm
Oct 15, 2023
Oct 15, 2023 at 1:33 PM UTC
I pull the sheets over my head,
There's darkness around.
And suddenly it feels home.
Darkness perceives of what I've been longing for,
It's where i belong.
Where I'm not fearful.
Where nothing can harm me,
Solely, because I'm the only harm here.
A harm so murk,
That grasps every body it gets close to,
And persecutes it,
To demise.
There's no getting back,
There's no forgetting.
It keeps me awake,
The inquity.
It sweetly toxins me,
And I'm off to a deep sleep.
At whatever time,
I get pulled back;
Im prompted,
Prompted of all the gloaming mystic.
And I'm inescapable,
Of all the despair.
Im excessively unaware
Of all the agony it beholds.
That being,
A reckless pair.
Disheartened,
But faithful.
Accurate,
But flawed.
Hostile
But shambled.
Too much to complicate the shade,
And
Too little to interpret hell.
Yet,
Why?
Does this bring me tranquility?
Why does this bring me back home?
Mar 20, 2019
Mar 20, 2019 at 5:02 AM UTC
Sure, i was born working class
But that hero he was never in me
Does that leave me something to be?
Other than this mess of insecurities
Those that i seek to pass on to you
With these bats in my eyes and spiders in my bed
How do I see through the webs of deceit?
That dark the night but flame the passions of the free
Running wild within a solitary cell
An inner longing endlessly persecutes me
Hell is round the corner offering sympathy and tea
Laughing sarcastically, a mirror of 1988
A parish hall, a community, a church fete
Still life of a young boy of Corpus Christi
Stealing cards, running yards, playing to be hard
As I pray to the saints and plead for relief
Mother calls as supper lays on the kitchen table
Boy complies, studies hard, proves to be able
Now those days are gone, left far behind
All freedom is lost through the estates of the blind
Where are they now, his prayer and his plea?
Grey eyes, grey suit and grey tie
Nothing is left, there is no one to be
This is the hero, the hypocrite in me
Mar 25, 2019
Mar 25, 2019 at 5:05 PM UTC
One quickly learns to fall and roll,
(The pratfall is his stock in trade)
But hard surfaces take their toll,
Although the fall’s expertly played.
He’s just the universe’s tool
Grinning though his blood may boil
A well-placed and convenient fool
(The harlequin’s the perfect foil.)
The passing years have not been kind
(His back is shot, his knees are spent)
But still he keeps the thought in mind
That other wounds are permanent
(He may never bring the house down,
But no one persecutes a clown.)
Aug 11, 2017
Aug 11, 2017 at 11:29 AM UTC