Brighter than the blinding flares of the sun, shimmering outward with power of thousands of stars
yet comforting
yet soft.
Filled with oceans crashing and wild, turning over ships, rushing under a powerful storm.
yet still
yet calm.
Filled with wonder and curiosity, yearning for the unknown, desperate for enlightenment
yet wise
yet content.
Eyes so wide, so deep, filled with delicate roses, the power of mighty warriors, elegant as Venus's flowing dress, filled with souls of thousands, with passion, with yearning, with desire.
Filled with beauty
Filled with you.
z Jul 22
your worth is unmeasurable

its value is so high
yet so low

all it takes is
the right person
to determine
how much you’re worth

don’t let an unmeasurable soul
measure your worth.

don’t let one with an
unmeasurable worth
determine the value
of yours.
- don’t gift fragile hands with the power over your worth and be surprised of the repercussions.
We're in control of this place!
We've taken charge
Of this No Man's Land.
We don't take orders
From the U.S. or the U.N.!
If you don't  comply with our interpretation of Sharia,
We'll simply blast you to bits!
Those who enter our area
Must  be deferential to us,
Even if you try to placate us
And accede to our demands,
We're will still be
Suspicious of You.
We call the shots around here,
But we don't feel obliged to
"Make sense",
Your Western ideas about
"Making Sense",
Don't  make any sense to us!
So, to hell with  all that nonsense!
If you want to lecture us about Human Rights,
Women's Rights,
Or the need for children to be educated
Give us a few million dollars first!
Then, we might be listen to you to your sermon
For a little while,
If we get sick of listening to your message,
We might decide to kill you
Before you convert us
To your ideology!
All this Nonsense about
Is for the Children of the Rich
To study abroad!
That sort of idealism
Doesn't  make any sense out here in the Bush!
It's the most well-armed men
Who Call the Shots out here!
You might think that I sound like an actor
In a Hollywood Movie,
But it's a struggle for survival out here!
Do you think that we really ENJOY
This way of Life?
We used to love to raise vegetables
As well as keeping
Chickens and goats,
But the rains are infrequent nowadays.
Our  vegetables wither and die,
And our herds  starve.
Kidnapping the President's Daughter,
And hold her for ransom
Is much easier
Than bothering with
We're  just taking  he spoiled girl off her parent's hands
For awhile.
If we don't take  her
She’ll just demand a BMW from parents
As well as lots enough money
For Tuition overseas.
What difference does it make
If she blackmails her parents
Or we do?
They say we  like to gang-rape
Wealthy girls.
It's not  true!
That's  just  Western Propaganda
To brainwash people
So they won't take our Agenda seriously.
We don’t really do those sorts of things!
If the spoiled girl
Listens  to our side of the Story for a while,
We know that she will become our advocate
Rather than consenting to be
Our slave.
We aren't stupid people, you know?
We know how to make a good impression on  young women.
We simple focus directly
On getting exactly what we want
Rather than conforming to a bunch of stupid,
Arbitrary rules
That were designed
To keep us impoverished and subservient.
That kind of philosophy
Appeals to young people, you know?
Even the children of the wealthy.
All the people out here in the Bush
Know that we're really the only ones
Who look  after them.
The so-called ,
“Real Government”
Doesn't actually administer this Area at all!
It's fallen into neglect.
We’re the Saviors
Of this No Man's Land.
Sure, we use terror
To achieve our objectives.
That's effective out  here.
People respond to fear.
Human Beings  don't necessarily
Listen to reason.
We're not really “terrorists".
That word that was  made up
By  Wealthy, Westernized Elites.
Terrorism is not an IDEOLOGY.
It's just the most efficient way to rule.
As these Government officials
Go on Junkets
In  Paris, New York or Rome
And participate in Drunken Orgies
In Rio De Janeiro
And Bangkok.
We take care of  this area for them,
And  make it possible for them to do
Whatever  they want to do with their time.
We administer this area
While our these  corrupt "leaders"
Go out and have fun!
They should be grateful to us!
After all,
They don’t give really give a damn
About the people
Out here in the Bush.
They just think,
"Let those maniacs rule the Bush!"
"If the Whites know that there is Terrorism in Nigeria,"
"They'll give us lots of  money."
"To help us fight their war!"
We're actually helping our
So-called "leaders
Get more money
By ruling this No Man's Land!
Then, they can go  play golf
With President Donald Trump,
Whore around in Rio De Janeiro
Or do
Whatever the hell they want to do.
"No tree, it is said, can grow to heaven unless its roots reach down to hell."

------Carl Jung
Gabriel Ibarra Oct 2013
Always on a trip, She's got my head up where the clouds is
Disconnected from the world but she keeps me grounded
Brings me back to focus when I totally lost it;
Occupying my thoughts when I'm turning and tossing
It's hard to fall asleep when you're stuck dream chasing
and the only thing that's faster than my mind is how my heart's racing
So I have to slow it down, chop it up and screw it.
Love is like the strongest drug. Goddamn who knew it?
Well I'm on one, on two, fuck it maybe I'm on three
Up all night, trying to find her love just like Aubrey
Infatuated with her brains in amazement at her beauty
She's got that cute smile and those eyes that look right through me
Always lights me up, swearing she's amazing
But she always denies it, constantly trying to down play it
I'm on a power trip, breathless, at a loss for words
Like the tattoo on her side, she takes me higher than the birds
My little take on J. Cole's Power Trip
Christian Ek Jul 2015
The power I get from your personality.
Your a lion, a natural born leader.
King of the jungle, in this barren valley you give me hope.
Hope in a savior, in a presence so uniquely rare and strong.
I want to be like you, I want your charisma.
You make everyone seem so simple.
Far above average, your capable of emancipating glory.
A righteous and kind soul.
Your energy spreads through the beastly sinners and compels their spirit to change into something beautiful.
For my best friend
When the kill-shot kills not, the dead lions don’t roar.
They become the ghost in the dark, silent yet present.
Like power, real power, stealth in tall green grasses,
they watch
the victory dances and gleeful prances of deluded preys.
Beware!! Be not carried away.
Look into the eyes of the golden flames,
See their manes –Alive!!
In the fog of night’s peaceful fade.

©Belema .S. Ekine
Anne Hanratty Oct 2017
I'm frequently told to
'Stop and smell the roses'-
I have hay fever.
If I were to stop, I would no longer be moving so
My mind has more time to fill itself up with the little thoughts,
The ones I'm walking the streets to forget.
Rose is one of my favourite scents but
Every time I try to take it in
My cheeks swell and my eyes water;
I'll just stick to being a walker.

I wasn't aware of this, but
The nose must play an important role
In the improvement of mental health because
I am also told to
'Wake up and smell the coffee'-
I don't want to wake up
And I can't get out of bed,
(Could you just bring me a coffee, instead?)
It might inspire me.

Within the cover of night I am sitting;
-Doing anything other than sleeping-
In bed thinking about what if somebody told me to
'Wake up and smell the roses',
Surely it's a death sentence
To do a combination of the two
That I have already explained
I cannot,
Will not

Today, however, I did attempt to smell those roses
And I bought myself a latte, too.
But all I could taste and smell was ash,
Which made me panic
Because it felt like I was burning alive and
I liked that.
Now I understand that cigarette smoke can sometimes be so potent, that it
Drowns the soul.

Tobacco is, in fact, a substance of which I feel I can relate to:
It's grown;
Briefly nurtured;
Labelled (with a warning);
Used by many and
Set alight by a temporary flame;
Used up in a puff of smoke.
I wrote this poem for my own benefit in all honesty, it's just something to help my mind unravel itself
sara Jul 30
Since it was me who started it,
I must then beg your pardon; it
made sense to let my heartstrings
play the tune of your sweet laughter.

But use my heart as your ink-pot
and I'll cry tears blue like ink blots,
asking "why?" you asked me "why?"
each time I begged for you to stop.

Words run wet right down the page;
'til vodka and rum taste the same;
'til black and blue blend just one shade.
I thought love was something that lived just next-door-but-one to hate.
exploring the theme of disrespect within a romantic context

Edited: not personal not personal not personal xx
Next page