"portraying" poems
What Hope Remained?
What hope remained when hope for hope was spent?
When putrid plumes dulled morning into night
Hope lived in heart-struck deeds of bold intent,
As mortals wept and earthborn angels went
With downcast eyes to clamber heavens height.
What hope remained when hope for hope was spent?
When panicked sirens wailed a lost lament
And backs were bowed beneath ungodly weight,
Hope lived in heart-struck deeds of bold intent
As boots bore souls up treadmills burnt and bent
To scale a void devoid of dawning light.
What hope remained when hope for hope was spent?
For those in sight of angels heaven sent
Atop the world to aid their mortal plight,
Hope lived in heart-struck deeds of bold intent.
When wingless brethren conquered feared ascent
To gift last hope to all who saw their might:
What hope remained when hope for hope was spent?
Hope lived in heart-struck deeds of bold intent.
In The Fall
I chanced upon a stranger in the fall,
Cosmetic garb of office black and white
Portraying calm demeanor of his plight
As shadows panicked on a stricken wall,
And oft' I find my mind in numb recall
To look upon that helpless human kite
Who tumbled from the terrors of a height,
Yet graceful as an eagle in a stall
Before it plummets earthward -- 'Neath the pall
Of twisted steel rended by follied flight,
That stranger lives forever in the light
Suspended in iconic timeless sprawl.
I wonder, in the briefness of his fall,
Did he derive the meaning of it all?
Sep 4, 2015
Sep 4, 2015 at 7:20 PM UTC
To Be Continued
Try to praise the mutilated world.
Tweet the lies of love with lustful lyrics
Lustrously laminated by lives of the lost
Reluctantly remembering repressed memories
Hidden, but recovered.
Mutilation
Malicious mysterious misunderstood
Multiplying in the masses
Magnificent.
Praise
Powerful prideful
Portraying pure pleasure from answered prayers
Proposing purpose.
The world
And abyss
Empty like a full moon’s blank stare
Echoing ignorance.
Shall we challenge the Author?
Is authenticity virtuous?
The growth of an insatiable species
To be glorious, to be remembered,
To be continued
Jan 28, 2014
Jan 28, 2014 at 11:35 AM UTC
When things get tough,
She cries a little.
….
Every single time, she contemplates it,
If it’s portraying her as weak,
Or is it okay to cry a bit?
What if it’s actually making her weaker?
What if her biggest fear is creeping it’s way out of the pit?
….
She holds herself, push back the tears,
But all her efforts aren’t worth,
All it takes is two words,
From someone, her presence who seeks,
And she lets two drops roll down her cheeks.
….
When things get tough,
She cries a little,
Then,
She buckles herself up,
In the end, only she gets a little tough.
….
Love ❤️
Jun 13, 2021
Jun 13, 2021 at 8:30 AM UTC
I am not what I am,
Nor am I what people say I am.
I am a locked box,
Full of things I cannot share.
I am sly as a fox,
Often portraying that I do not care.
But this of course is untrue.
What do I desire?
You and your unyielding fire.
And yet I can never seem to tell you.
Who am I?
I am the unknown.
Jun 17, 2014
Jun 17, 2014 at 8:39 PM UTC
Fingers cut palms as hands turn to stone
And a catapult hurls the projectile home
Knuckles collapse from bone meeting bone
Down in the alleys where miscreants roam
Suggestions of violence fill gutters with blood
Fill heads with the sense of nefarious thrill
Their skin turns to ash and their brains into mud
Rage in the kingdom of eager to ****
The children are soldiers who train everyday
Cowboys and Indians, Robbers and Cops
****** is plot and the actors will play
Portraying the place life will come to a stop
Violence is cancer, and love is no more
Edge of our seats waiting for the next war
Dedicated to the deceased and forgotten, Love and Peace
Oct 5, 2013
Oct 5, 2013 at 11:34 PM UTC
the dendrites don't know what's right anymore.
the tipsy balance is falling off the table,
and there's nothing there to stop it.
gravity is such a *****
but, so are a lot of things,
and i can't seem to grasp onto anything good
anymore by standing
right in front of the doors
that lead to something better.
i knew it when i found my body
still in the second row of the
dark movie theater,
crying at the smiling stars
on the explosion of a projection screen.
i'm pretty sure i was feeling
sorry for myself
lapping up some kind of
enlightenment.
i've been too nice for too long,
but i've been old since the
day i turned eight.
that was when i learned about
the rough bodies
portraying the new style of
***
on a vhs,
and my eyes stung
because i didn't want to watch
and it seems to hormone driven
boys that it's ingrained in my dna.
i have been uncomfortable for ten years now.
but not as winded on the
day it burned a hole in
my solar system,
the milky way
told me to love the metal hearts
and
always be kind.
i can't do that anymore,
there's too much anger
in my stomach
for my body not to
convulse in shame.
it was never my fault,
but everyone else likes to think so
and
i've always held it gently
so no one else would have
to breathe in sawdust
and exhale hurt.
i always had it covered
with my hands lined with
fortunes.
palms,
can you tell what's in store for me now?
Mar 27, 2011
Mar 27, 2011 at 6:40 PM UTC
*Upon a bright spring morning,
In the warmth of the ember sun,
Adorable chromatic koi's pose,
Graciously leaping in a distinctive pond.
Casually stroking their fins,
In a flattering array,
On this delightful,
And cheerful beautiful day.
As they glide smoothly,
Hiding underneath huge stones,
Preciously playing peekaboo,
Each in a beauty of their own.
Near a tall brick wall .... beneath the purities of cascading waters,
Portraying a lively show,
As the zephyr gently embrace,
And the waterfall plays a soothing percussion, as it flows.*
Jun 10, 2014
Jun 10, 2014 at 1:20 PM UTC
There was once a parable,
an earthly story
portraying a message that would
be told in reference of our life:
A sower goes out to sow some seeds.
However, there were some seeds
fell on the wayside, and
were swallowed up by the birds.
Yet, some seeds fell next to the ricks,
but there was not enough earth
to keep the growth of the plant-
so, when the sun came out
the seeds were scorched from the earth
with minimum growth,
but without the roots
to carry on its growth process.
Yet, some seeds were placed in the thorns;
so, those seeds were choked by its death.
The last sower was able to find good land,
where seeds would grow to a hundred fold.
There is a mission:
When God asks us to plant seeds,
we are asked to have the oil with us.
Without the right concentration,
there are concerns of thorns
who can choke you up.
Because the thorns are sharp and dangerous,
only God has the power to devour
or to destroy them.
A thorn is stubborn, and will continue to process
threats of no promise, but the cuts it can process.
Some thorns can be hidden,
while a red rose blooms beautifully
on the branches of a rose bush,
there is no reason to believe-
the thorn bush wants you
to grab the beautiful rose
to dig into your skin
the anger it holds
for you.
Hence we have the earth to produce God's mission,
but without the oil and concentration,
there are only rocks that will go nowhere.
Yes, unless you plan to move the rocks out
of the way, those things will always remain.
Only God has the power to remove the
blockages out of our lives to make
success in His mission, not our own.
Rocks also causes pain. They are
heavy, stubborn to move, and are often in the way.
When dealing with rocks,
their mission is to block the truth
blind us for which what is said is to be
hypocritical to the naked eye.
However, what the rocks do not know,
they may block our message from reaping,
but God can remove that rock,
placing them where they will work better.
The rocks are the most stubborn for sending
a message when the rock says,
"Here I am try to move me,"
however, if you remove a rock from its place,
they too have a purpose, and knocks the
whole scenario outta-kilta.
The situation is that while seeds could grow,
they die off very quickly without roots.
The question is:
Does it take a brain surgeon
to help us decide where to plant seeds?
Do we need to express the dangers
of rocks and thorns?
Where do we lay our hearts?
Is our hearts in the thorns, being tangled and sliced-
or is our hearts being crushed by rocks?
Is our oil being dripped by the holding back of thorns,
or are the rocks dying the oil up?
Our hearts need to sow where there is promise.
Nov 15, 2014
Nov 15, 2014 at 4:24 PM UTC
Can I gently lure myself into your life?
Make you feel as you’re forever in my arms, when you’re alone in bed at night?
Whisper all the sweet words into your ear until I see you slowly and slowly fall into my deception and lies
Make all things that’s wrong feel ever so right
May I lead you into my home and gently place you on my bed
Look straight into your eyes and speak words of significant meaning
As if they wore worthless and dead
Can I bring comfort into your heart?
I’ll make you feel so loved and serene
I’ll disguise myself as being the man of your dreams
While I prey on my next victim to control and lead astray
In the same manner I lit up your light blue sky, I'll make em truly dark and gray
Can I drag you into my deceit, forcing you to make me the center of your life?
Can I pretend to love you and untruthfully envision you as my wife?
Portraying to be your blessing,
Disguising the hidden lesson
I‘ll make you fall so deeply in love with me
That you will have to pray with all of your might
For the Lord to bring you out of the darkness and make everything vivid and bright
Can I take you on pointless dates and sit through meaningless movies and earn my way between your legs?
Cognizant that this bond means loyalty and trust to you so I’ll take it slow and just **** you instead
Can I make you believe that I AM the man that can protect you from all the hurt that this world can bring?
Then I WILL up and leave you on a beautiful day without any logic reasoning
Why?
Because I seen a woman with more beautiful eyes.
I seen a lady that smelled as sweet as a rose.
I seen a gorgeous woman with a smaller nose.
I seen a lady with a beautiful body and attitude so fierce.
I seen a woman with a smile that'd burn the sun and hair flowing past her ears.
I tricked you into developing such love for me that, I took it from your mind to love yourself
I display myself as a perfect man, so you wouldn’t go and fall for someone else
Like a thief in the night I snuck in your life in the mist of you lying hopeless
I played your Knight in Shining Armor because I knew you were a Damsel in Distress
Your weaknesses, I feed on until I began to bore myself of fraud
When I seen that love was all you needed
I valuated my hand
Weighed my decisions
And I played my cards
Copy Right 2013
©Patty Ann
Jul 18, 2013
Jul 18, 2013 at 8:57 AM UTC
Look up Hipster!
We see who you are.
Unique!
(placing yourself neatly into a distinct group, now no one will mistake you for something your not.)
I wear flags around my belt!
And balloons!
People talk to me.
I am beautiful.
(makeup stained around my vains, clogging my pours, worrying about my un-curled hair)
And I am wearing a dress!
(portraying innocence)
But I dance like a ****
I am just the right amount of easy.
Yes!
*** for fun.
And a place to sleep,
for I am without a home.
Hello Alejandro!
I am happy to hear you miss me!
I miss you too.
And you..
Maybe tonight we will finally
make love!
(if the others don't find out that is)
I saw you acting a fool today.
Ha!
In a land of fools!
You are not crazy to me.
whatever the mass has decided.
**** them.
(They alter and sway as a release of energy cycles throughout creating a sealed force. You can feel it as you pass by. It is pulsing. Our bodies have created one.)
One.
It was Dubstep!
Hello water!
And air.
I Love you,
for you only have one way:
Perfect
and moving
like the cycle of life.
I am glad you are here
to remind us of you.
Yes!
You may be touching our skin,
but we are often blinded by your beauty.
Sorry.
(My perceptions alter and change floating between different variations of happy-)
then sad.
I worry,
then lay.
Allowing the sun to sink through me
recharging, recharging
all that I have.
I watch as the others do the same.
Floating consistently
up
then down.
We are Angles.
Apr 23, 2013
Apr 23, 2013 at 10:29 PM UTC
Among the stars his memories travel.
Just trekking.
Just trekking into space.
Whether illogical or logical.
To him, it must make sense.
For his mission was never impossible.
And actor closely connected to Mr. Spock than many portraying the part.
He beamed truth to the millions fans of Star Trek with his wisdom and vision.
Whether upon the deck of the Enterprise next to his Captain.
He stood faithful and loyal to his crew.
Now you're apart of history of various scientific studies.
You're so deserving of being assigned to heaven.
Feb 27, 2015
Feb 27, 2015 at 5:04 PM UTC
We mourn in silence
as sun shines everyday
trying to bring rays
of hope and smile
to millions desperate
In darkness of the night
Moon gives hope
through the reflected light
of the golden sun
portraying the same intention
and stars chuckle by
like millions of orphaned
children wandering our dark world
Technology which brought in abundance
has left us in want
machines brought in to give leisure
has left us with no time at all
Virtual net which brought people
miles apart together has resulted
virtual bubbles of gloating egos
we are together yet alone and
isolated in this world of paradox
serpents of guilt keep dancing
around yet the cloak of fear
blinds us we ignore
and without even us realizing
all that we do
along with all other beings
residing on this beautiful earth
we just mourn
blasting our lungs out
in silence
Jan 14, 2014
Jan 14, 2014 at 1:05 PM UTC
Time has passed since the first time I saw her,
There more I looked, she seemed to look better.
Didn't have the courage to tell her this long,
Mustered all of it and now I'm portraying it in a song.
When I'm with her all I get is good vibes,
She's too beautiful, too much to describe.
To get this girl there's nothing I wouldn't offer,
Days pass by yet I cannot take my eyes of her.
But there's one thing that I still can't see,
Like how I look at you I wish you look at me.
Sleepless nights, meaningless fights, being in spotlights, loveless love bites,
And much more I have done in this world,
But what more do I need to do to get the girl?
Somewhere down the line,
When everything's fine,
I may forget everything,
But I'll always wish you were mine.
I cannot wait for any longer so gotta say this before I realise some other dreams of mine,
Hopefully after this poem every night together we can dine.
I know I ain't even close to perfect, there's every talent that I lack,
But I'll love you for life,
Would you love me back?
Oct 28, 2018
Oct 28, 2018 at 8:45 AM UTC
How do you define love?
How do you begin?
Come with me on this journey and explore,
The emotion of love that we all truly adore,
The emotion that we all seek to receive,
The emotion that makes us weak at the knees.
An emotion that has been written about in Music, Stories, Poetry
An emotion we have captured in paint,
An emotion we long for to hold and cherish, let noone taint.
Songwriters have written lyrics, declaring their feelings of desire,
Different Genres, Ballads, Rock Anthems,Jazz, Rhythm andBlues,
Singing of love for cars, women and drink.
Singing of the Power of Love and who started the fire,
Singing of pain, hurt, unrequited love, betrayal too
Songs making us remember, desire and think.
Music so light and pretty,
Music that rises slowly to a high crescendo,
Music of passion, devotion, trust and loyalty.
Music that is dark and *****
Music that takes you down low,
Music of betryal, mistrust and insanity.
Artists take to the brush to paint a picture clear,
Of women walking on a bridge parasol in hand,
Portraying feelings of lust, romanticism and fear,
Of lovers dancing on the beach leaving footprints in the sand.
Portraying their love of the beauty that surrounds, women and children with beguiling smiles,
Portraits that make you laugh, cry and stand still for a while.
Artists that capture the perfect smile,
Artists that capture that capture the love in the eyes,
Artists that capture that moment, once in a while,
Artists that capture that bond, those ties.
Poets create a picture with their words,
Bringing to mind lust and desire,
Writing of feelings that matter.
Making you cry, laugh, raising your emotions higher and higher,
Using words that describe, pain, and hurt,words that charm and flatter.
Poets that tell a story of hardship, friendship and survival,
Poets that make you laugh, cry and bring about revival.
Poets that write of emotions,
Poets that write of tenderness,
Poets that write of devotion,
Poets that write of togetherness.
Throughout the centuries we are bequiled by love,
How it hurts, how it heals,
The emotions love makes you feel.
How it is won, how it is lost.
Love at what price, what cost?
How we desire love from each other,
How we desire the love of our father and mother.
How love can raise you up and let you down,
How love can get a smile out of a frown.
How love can be your freedom and yet love can smother,
There is no medium that can capture all the different aspect of love for each other.
Love is unique,
Love can be bleak.
Love is scary,
Love can be weary.
Love is strength,
Love can be any time, any length.
Love is freedom,
Love can be your guiding beacon.
Each and everyone of us, feels love in someway
How do you recognise love? if love spoke to you, what would it say?
Sep 12, 2018
Sep 12, 2018 at 8:04 AM UTC
It was not my first intention
Courting, that is
Never my strongest of suits
Known to closest my true emotions
I let my colors speak for me
The crispness of my whites
Radiating pure innocence
The warmth and joy of my yellows
Welcoming
My orange hints
Full of desire and energy
The subtleness of my pinks
Portraying my delicacy and grace
Be around a bouquet of me
The sweetest thoughts of the most gentle sentiments
Will arise alone from my aroma
After having met my thorny stems
You are rewarded by my silky texture
My mesmerizing fragrance
The spectrum of my colors entice
I spread my own rainbow across the skies
I tease, I flirt
All to my liking
However seducing
Although said to be a natural
I prefer to be picked
Coat smooth as the most delicate of flowers
Queen of the Garden
Rosa is my name.
Different needs call for different hues
I am divine.
I am romantic.
The presence of me, pleasant
The perfume I emit, calming
Creative minds put me to good use
A trail lines the hall
Crimson flutters leave a path to your bedroom
Delicately placed aloft the best of Egyptian cotton
What better sight of affection to see?
The flush of color to my cheeks when we meet
The thumping of my hearts beat?
Rose petals on the sheets?
From sponge baths to massages
Chocolate dipped scarlet strawberries
Each affair we have is the most superb of quality
My red appearance not the deepest of color
But its beautiful elegance is the most sought after of shades
A symbol of deep burning undying passion
Signifying the most immortal dramatic love
The Red Rose is The Rose of all roses.
Rosa is my name.
Jul 21, 2014
Jul 21, 2014 at 8:43 PM UTC
Life's reflection glistens through sands of time.
Days past due reunite with our current days disguise.
We glimmer in the false light portraying us to our knees.
Reaping such qualities turns our words to disease.
Acquisitions conquer minds through solid demise.
Leading hearts of hate to realise.
We are our own living destruction.
Believing such theories brought through subduction.
We replenish the rot of our personality.
To feast off our remaining qualities.
Together we fail united we'll fall.
Through the eyes of evil till death do us all.
-Joseph B Schneider
Jun 18, 2014
Jun 18, 2014 at 9:45 PM UTC
Sailing through purple skies unhindered
And breathe crystal snowflake frosted air
Floated past the mysterious Weeping Mountains
And yellow forests called Warlocks Fair
Trembling
Wandered the underworld
Drunk with false courage from Cretan wine
Leapt bravely from star to star
Journeyed through red starred scattered galaxies
Witnessing the birth and death of time
The finality of the forever feared tolling
The ringing of deaths solemn bell
Conjured this was in my mind quite carefully
For I am she who tells the tale
Commanding the heavens and the earth with my pen
To me the four winds bow low and kneel
The water robed river nymphs pirouette
Wild horned stags vault high to my music
You must admit the scene quite captivating and surreal
The moon kiss my cheek with shy affection
Apollo grace me with a sunburst arrow of gold
Syrian lotus seed the door to the universe
Held tightly in small clutching hands
Where lies stories soon to be told
She who tells the tale
Sprung from blood of ancient lands
Portraying in ink and script
The dark images of man.
@ Copyright Tammy M. Darby Dec. 12, 2018.
Dec 10, 2018
Dec 10, 2018 at 9:07 PM UTC
I am painting a portrait
I was painting a portrait of my FRIENDS
But instead
I am only portraying what I THINK
I SEE
There is so much I DON’T see
My words
They don’t portray the friends at all
They only portray how I SEE them
They only portray ME
Is there a painter WHO paints what IS
Not what is SEEN?
Would you have to be HEARTLESS
Would you have to be FEARLESS
Would you have to be THOUGHTLESS
Let’s face it
I am painting a SELF portrait
Nov 2, 2018
Nov 2, 2018 at 5:43 AM UTC
It was never my intention to place you in harms way.
Enlisting your heart to trouble after we kissed on that precious day.
As time elapsed, my heart took a moment to understand.
You were portraying your earnest emotions subtly then crass.
The turmoil you must’ve felt during the time you kept to yourself…
Causing you to experience agonizing despair while delving into mournful swells…
Find it in your heart to forgive these third degree burns.
For it was never my intention to crucify your kind soul.
My love yearns to romanticize unhurriedly,
Seducing passionately while intimately feeding the soul so fluidly.
Is it too much to ask for an amorous exploration?
For what is love without a genuine vibration?
If *** is all you seek,
Be explicitly direct; don’t play games that will cause deceit.
Otherwise, in the end, ambivalent emotions will prevail.
Crafting a false sense of endearment that will soon be too much for you to bear.
I once journeyed to a crucible of love and hate.
Traveling far beyond the unfathomable depths of heartache.
Hopelessly exiled to endure the slowest of brutalizing pains;
A light was discovered, allowing the abhorrence to dissipate.
By: Michael M. De La Fuente
Nov 25, 2014
Nov 25, 2014 at 12:22 AM UTC
I am grounded by my own ignorance, he thought, and here, by the sheer complexity of things. This pebble at my feet seems the very centre of a radius - of marks and pathways. Possibilities. It is a thing that connects itself with me. It is very early, before the sun has touched the horizon’s sky.
I recall a poem telling of the perfection of pebbles, their being equal to themselves, mindful of their limits, filled exactly with a pebbly meaning, with a scent which does not remind one of anything, does not frighten anything away, does not arouse desire, its ardour and coldness full of dignity.
I now remember another poem, portraying a pebble placed in a child’s hand, picked up on a pebble ridge. A pebble to place in the pocket where we finger it until it becomes warm. Its shape and certainty is firm and sure. It consoles us. And, as we change and decay, it remains lodged with us: a thing that contains nothing save the mystery of life.
And there is a long prose poem devoted to the pebble. It starts at the beginning of time itself with a condensed cosmogony, describing the formation of the first rock as an allegory of The Fall. It ventures through the expulsion of life, to cooling, to those large tectonic plates, and all the way down to the pebble itself, or, as the poet says, the "kind of stone that I can pick it up and turn it over in my hand". Time is everywhere in this poem: Stone as Time, where the great wheel of stone rolls ever on as plant life, animals, gases and liquids revolve quite rapidly in their cycles of dying. Take this as the poet’s view of humanity: to consider all things as unknown, and to begin again right from the beginning.
We need to take the side of things, he thought. Here, this pebble is time, and where this pebble lies, with its radii of marks, seems at the very centre of things. It was brought anonymously by the tide one stormy night to lie at our feet, and looks at us with a calm and very clear eye.
Jul 7, 2013
Jul 7, 2013 at 1:49 AM UTC
A click here
and a click there
taking snaps everywhere
at the age of living carefree
our generation is obsessed with selfie
with a stick in our hand
everywhere we stand -
feeling sick
let's take a pic
going to party
don't forget the photography
every single moment is;
captured as if was a bliss!
fake smiles captured with a flick
but we never get bored of taking click
we are loosing the compassion
in no way we are human
we don't help the one in need;
fish our camera and take snaps instead
portraying poor and their poverty
the name and fame won't help them any
All they want is may be a piece of bread
but the human in us is already dead!
all we do is take a click
Believe me all this is a sh*t!
Extended verse -
we have strong opinion on social media
but in actual world we suffer anemia
we like, comment and share;
when action is needed all we do is stare
such piteous is our condition
we can't stand in unison
and so its easy to break us
else what the hell is this ISIS
Apr 5, 2016
Apr 5, 2016 at 5:42 AM UTC
In the night garden,
Brambles scar at heart and mind,
The roses bear no thorns,
The buddlea, no butterflies borne,
Metamorphosis into night light moths,
Beetles become fireflies,
Dancing round the fairy heads,
The ***** screams,
Portraying portents of doom,
While creeping beneath the glowing moon,
Dry brush wood cracks at winds intent,
Hedgehog spikes,
Tom cat hunts,
Queen lady calls,
She is his feline lover,
One of many,
Ladies in his life,
She'll give him many babies,
Never be his wife.
Garden of darkness a surreal place,
In daylight she will hide her face,
No nightmare in her freedom space!
By ladylivvi1
© 2013 ladylivvi1 (All rights reserved)
Jun 26, 2013
Jun 26, 2013 at 8:26 AM UTC
Random Sentences
Everyday people will die,
for a moment, you might cry,
but as yourself why.
Celebrate their life, don't mourn,
think of all the new being born,
life or death, millions are torn.
Earth rotates around the sun,
just try to have some fun,
no fork in me, I'm far from done.
I have yet to get going,
like a strong wind blowing,
the future is always unknowing.
Be yourself, don't be fake,
no one likes a sneaky snake,
open your eyes, it's time to wake.
Smell the flowers, smell the coffee,
unlock your powers, don't be so bossy,
climb those towers, no need for a posse.
Nightmares used to haunt my every move,
no more fears left to prove,
my dreams are starting to improve.
No clue what I'm saying,
don't believe in any praying,
my life, I'm happily portraying.
None of us know the truth,
about how we wasted our youth,
can't remember last time, I saw a telephone booth.
No creative writer is better than me,
I even write, while I take a ***
you're lying if you don't agree.
My haters are just jealous,
I like being so rebellious,
love being so overzealous.
Way too much pollution,
no one has any solution,
that will be my final conclusion.
Jan 20, 2014
Jan 20, 2014 at 1:40 PM UTC
In the Old World, those of our kind had to keep ourselves hidden and work our magic behind closed doors. We were to be secret sorcerers. A mysterious kind of folk. We were accused of darkness and exiled to despair if our covers were blown. Thankfully these times are changing.
With this New World Order, our fate is changing for the better of us all. And more importantly, the fate of the earth and the cosmos beyond. While dark magic is something we are all capable of portraying whether intentional or not, there is so much more good that can come when aligned with the magic and mystique, connected with the powers of our earthly just as our heavenly realms.
As above, so below is a saying we all know.
As it is in the heavens it shall be on earth.
Peace and Protection are granted for all who believe.
Gifts from nature given as tools and symbols so we may live a life of leisure and ease.
For now, we are teachers shown through storybook tales. To prepare you for your future in magic that comes with being born into these great times of change; for we will one day pass our torch to you; just as you will to every indigo, rainbow, soul-healing, spirit-weaving, wondrous light-working child.
Aug 17, 2016
Aug 17, 2016 at 1:55 PM UTC
Trampled, yanked from their roots, strewn across the dirt;
A single, beautiful rose lay, treated as lowly as the soil beneath,
Loses sight of its true worth and perfection,
Amongst the several other damaged "objects".
Used and abused in manners undeserved, yet she still perseveres.
Replanted, freshened, and dusted off, she stands *****
Portraying beauty and elegance, others do not see the damage;
Yet it is visible to me, as clear as day are the harsh conditions endured.
And so is her strength, to bear another day.
And so is her worth, deserving of more than the world can offer,
Or that I can muster; I'll try my hardest to give her everything.
Aug 27, 2015
Aug 27, 2015 at 10:30 PM UTC