"professing" poems
You say I'm childish
For freely professing
All the words that are
Etched on my heart
As if I had any
Other choice but to
Be buried by them
Sep 10, 2025
Sep 10, 2025 at 3:40 PM UTC
Head shots like mug shot
selfies
Professing to the world their
desires to be seen like
gay barbie dolls
Green dots, I reply:
A collection of blue highlighted
selfies
of empty responses,
validating my
inadequacy
When I decided to accept
that I was gay and
cause a queer whirlwind into
the calm atmosphere that is my
family
I expected life to become easier
But as I venture into the world of
green dots and barbie selfies
I am reminded that
Gay
is not what stirred up
my hurricane of
Confusion
Insecurities
Inadequacies
It's all just me.
Apr 15, 2014
Apr 15, 2014 at 7:33 AM UTC
It was a dark and stormy night
when an angel of death took flight.
She took to the skies and followed the thunder
to the one who would begin their eternal slumber.
The man who would soon receive such a fate
denied the love of someone great.
He told her she was ugly and didn't have time
to give his love to someone who wasn't divine.
Then what happened next
devastated her parents when they read her text.
He had no remorse when he was given the news.
So the angel of death made him pay his dues.
People take things for granted.
That's to be expected.
But professing love is not an act that deserves being disrespected.
If we took the time to think about all of the outcomes
of our choices, the world might not lose so many beautiful voices.
Mar 23, 2019
Mar 23, 2019 at 7:26 PM UTC
You madman ranting in the train
Time sold in that bottle should delay your pain
But what has poisoned you to disordain
Professing the impossible over and over again
"My manhood into" Britain! you claim
The universe is all to blame
Your wishful dreams are driving you insane
To hell with all but what remains
Is just a madman ranting in the train
May 9, 2016
May 9, 2016 at 6:42 PM UTC
Chameleon of Pretense
True colors
Not always colorful
No absolutes
No boundaries
Shades of gray
Deep dark deceit
Disguises shallow self
A chameleon of pretense
Forever changing
Their spectrum of sincerity
To temporarily fit
The moment at hand
Pretending and professing
Haughty hypocrites are we
Selfishly
And single-handedly
Glorifying
A colorful
Glittering glutton
Of pride...
(C)~Travis
Nov 12, 2011
Nov 12, 2011 at 10:41 PM UTC
Whether it's an eight/twelve hours or more shift.
I SALUTE all men and women that daily places their life in danger.
Behind walls of correctional institution enhancing rules and regulation to inmates.
Of course you find that familiar one professing like it's an honor to be called convict.
Over phases of offender or inmate.
Unlike those street enforcers with weapons.
The only one you have is your vocal tones to control.
A prayer said daily, if you are of faith to calm your day.
Hold truth that any second, minute anything might happen.
While many families failed to comprehend you didn't make their child apart of the correctional system.
That was their child decision.
It takes strength and fearlessness to operate behind fences.
To be that honest officer following the rules.
For even some co-workers eventually ends up behind these same various walls.
RESPECT is an earned trade and trait.
Like your word is your bond.
But in a place that operates twenty four seven.
Your work is never done.
So to all correctional officers I SALUTE YOU!
Jul 1, 2017
Jul 1, 2017 at 6:36 PM UTC
I told the professor I loved beat literature and all the hippy consequences. He said they were such a small part of the population (along with Native Americans too apparently, he noted a different time. Because of what, you ******* I thought).
A pompous misguided thing, which either understandably or surprisingly, been teaching there since the 1960s. Five minutes of a winded attempt at putting anglophile humor into the lecture and you know the choice is "understandably" rather than "surprisingly." Been professing for the establishment, closed to other ways of thinking trickery.
A real square through and through. As if all change should come from appeasing the tyrannical bleachy supposed majority. Those in poverty, darker skins, gays, drug users, and all around flashy dressers ought to don suits for their one night Ed Sullivan performance. Get the folks on Bass Run Lane to be okay with seeing you in a glass cage in their living room scene. For just a couple decades. Then maybe they'll be used to seeing you in a grocery store. You'll always be laughable though, as they designed it to be so.
The hippies were a very small majority says the anointed professor.
"So were the suffragettes" snaps back a fiery thing sitting next to me. I should have talked to her more.
Aug 12, 2014
Aug 12, 2014 at 11:29 PM UTC
I am the pretty thing that lives under your house.
You left me there to rot, to be forgotten
like a flower that's never been watered and withers.
So how ironic must it be
to see a single rose bloom from my grave?
I am the pretty thing that stands next to your bed,
watching your chest rise and fall.
I bend down to whisper in your ear
and though you may have taken my voice,
the air coils and delivers my message.
Standing, I withdraw to the shadows.
I am the pretty thing whose face suddenly appears
in the dark space of your twisted mind
where you thought you buried me for good.
Gasping for breath, you wake up drenched in sweat.
You wonder if you're being irrational or going crazy.
I am the pretty thing that came back.
How lovely it is to make you insane!
You look beautiful in that straight jacket,
surrounded by alabaster walls with no windows.
It's only when you’re finally captured that you drop all pretense,
professing that it’s my blood that is forever stained on your hands.
I am now the pretty thing with a dagger in my smile.
Oct 24, 2023
Oct 24, 2023 at 9:51 AM UTC
MY LOVE IS ETERNAL….
I wish you come back to me someday for a while,
tell me your love for me is real,
that ray of hope of keeps me still alive,
you parted professing it was infatuation,
never fathomed my devotion,
you were my inspiration to live,
you were aspiration of my life,
left me in lurch for greener pastures,
leaving me entangled in your love shackles,
questioned the allegiance of my love,
shattering my profound feelings to live,
Years passed away down the lane,
in your thoughts and dreams alone,
in deep agony my heart bleeds ,
in memories of your cuddles and nibbles,
All these years, eyes tired in your quest,
my heart and soul always were at unrest,
Spent days and years persuading hard
my heart to evade from your thought,
it fortified my evasion, firm in its conviction
my heart is no more in my possession,
Spell bound in your compassion,
It is hard, yet have to make a confession
my love for you is beyond my imagination,
no stone left un turned in your pursuit,
no day,no moment passed with out your thought,
you were there always deep in my heart,
captivated me with your kindness
enthralled me with your sweet voice
to love you more was the only choice,
spring has come all the way again
flowers of my love has blossomed again,
though you are far away from me
your love has made me feel you are there with in me,
All these years of my penance for your love,
my goddess has blessed me with her love,
there in my heart and my soul, being the only reason to be alive,
your words soothes my heart and your smile makes it (heart) skip a beat,
you are there in my heart, air I breath, smile on lips,in tears when I weep,
the only ambition I have in my life, to part from this world in your lap,
My love for you is eternal, I would still love you from my coffers…
Aug 26, 2016
Aug 26, 2016 at 1:15 AM UTC
***Here we find
our greatest scientist
professing an independent Theorem
outside of thought and perception..
He admits this as belief
and also admits: this separate reality
he cannot find...in his science..
Our experience tells us:
this old Theorem is thought arising
in infinite Awareness..and there remains..
We search..as did he.. to no avail to find
the Theorem residing outside..
Would it astonish Dr. Einstein
that the Theorem we experience
..as could he..
is made altogether.. of Awareness...?***
Jan 9, 2017
Jan 9, 2017 at 8:39 PM UTC
One day, a decade ago, I came home from school,
And instead of starting my homework,
I showed my grandmother the picture I drew,
And my grandmother Edna said to me,
"Bran, you have one big imagination."
I grinned and shrugged, replying
"Sorry Grandma, I can't help it"
*She knows who she is....
And I think everyone knows where I'm coming from...*
Like all naive lovers, I imagined a happily ever after,
But Aphrodite discovered that i'm a functional disaster
Sort of like what happened when Wendy met Casper?
Silly, I know,
Well at least I tried to capture a little laughter.
I imagine her name as the name of a virtuoso band.
I listen enthusiastically to the band play,
"Eat your heart out, eat your heart out."
Yes, she's a band-aid.
I've imagined attending the salmon church with her,
Even though I don't believe.
Still I would do that for my Desdemona,
"I will deny thee nothing."
I imagined us getting married at an altar,
The honeymoon would be on the moon weeping honey.
Three years later, we have Harmony, our daughter.
My imagination is wild,
Maybe it's too far out there,
Where the wild things are.
Isn't it true that before you make something happen
You have to imagine it happening first?
Something like a self-fulfilled prophecy,
In time we'll see.
One day I came home from Mount Olympus,
And instead of professing agape,
I showed Cupid this poem I wrote,
And Cupid said to me, "You have one wild imagination."
I shrugged, replying, " I can't help it."
Cupid smiled and said, "You have a romantic one also."
Originally written 5/17/11
Revised 10/24/14
(c) 2014 Brandon Antonio Smith
Oct 16, 2014
Oct 16, 2014 at 6:40 PM UTC
I stand face to face with Death
And my heart is beating wildly
So alive
He opens his hands slowly
Gently and methodically
The hands of Death invite me in
There is a kindness in his eyes
And a truth I cannot evade forever
Right now
Death can be chosen or denied
He stands there
Patiently waiting for me to accept his invitation
Or I can turn my head away again
And go on
Running as hard as I can
From the figure standing just in the corner of my eye
Never absent
Never truly invisible
Right now
I can live as though I'll never die
And fight for survival
At all costs
Right now
The life I choose
Can be devoid of Death
Who I have cast
As the greatest enemy of my soul
Waiting to tear me to shreds
And devour me forever
All these years I have been running
Professing belief in a God who conquered Death
But unable to trust that victory
To believe in resurrection
In time
I have come to stop running
And at last I stand
Face to face with Death
He has always been there
Waiting for me
Not physical death to my body
That will come later, someday
But instead
Dying to myself
Dying to my fear
Dying to so many sorrows in my soul
This death is more frightening
Than any physical death
I am faced with the choice
To die to my own will
And to believe
That I will be raised
By the power of God
Into newness of life
I feel all the fear in my tortured soul
Looking into the eyes of Death
And I tremble
I fear
So afraid
So weak
So pained
But I've run out of places to run
To Whom shall I go?
Jesus followed this path
Walked into the arms of Death
And He forged a way out again
Words of eternal life
Yet for now
I just stand
Face to face with Death
And my heart is beating wildly
So alive
Aug 2, 2013
Aug 2, 2013 at 8:17 PM UTC
For Ricky*
Ricky Williams, Miami Running Back (2002-2003, 2005)
When the news broke and the camera pointed at a torn tent
on the outskirts of Miami where you sat knees-up-to-chest
professing enlightenment, the football world sacked itself
wondering how good your *** really was. Must have been
growing straight from Buddha’s back yard because to give
up 16 million like that, to go from bachelor pad demigod
to hippy hero of the pimply *** smokers, requires some
kind of unfathomable spirituality. I wonder if the Sadhu
could even find a desk big enough for your frame. All 230 pounds
lurching forward with brittle bones towards some kind
of endzone sanctity not represented by a smiling porpoise
but a transcendent 1st and ten where maybe you’d be happy.
After your final game I imagined you’d do what so many
washed up athletes do: find meaning in the parking lot
of a used car palace or open up a Dairy Queen, maybe
join your kids PTA and tell fourth graders stories that
you now half-believe. I didn’t think it be like this: you smoking
****** under a mauled tarpaulin, brushing fly’s away from
dingy dredlocks, running forward, exasperatedly free,
while a nation wonders why you’ve failed us.
Oct 30, 2013
Oct 30, 2013 at 10:03 AM UTC
Hesitant hands and
a lover who doesn't want
to love.
Momentary bliss with
someone who is terrified of
future.
Another saturday together,
back scratching,
arms holding,
reciprocated wanting,
and a kiss on the cheek in the morning.
I know he'll miss me
but
only in retrospect.
I say,
this feeling,
is the closest thing to god I know.
I think,
I will never let myself
admit it.
He thinks but says
nothing of
importance.
I, with a need for conversation,
am always the first
to initiate it.
Speaking of the weekends and
our time together and when
it will be the next already.
Professing my care and
how much I do and
how I don't know exactly why.
I tighten the knot around
my tongue and swallow
the proclamations as they come.
I decide to save them for
another who I know
I'll have to find eventually,
when the comfort has
settled and the strive
has grown tired,
when there is
not much left of
what barely ever was.
This is,
at most,
one of those routines that just sort of happened.
This is
hardly something
you could call romance.
I wonder,
how do you invest yourself
in a broken bank?
How do you share passion with
a person who doesn't have any?
How do you stop giving away too much
before you empty out again?
Why talk about tomorrow when
it is only today
and why is that still not enough
to be satisfied?
Oct 20, 2015
Oct 20, 2015 at 1:57 PM UTC
Unpacking an old box I scrounged and found
a card for Mother's Day from my ex-wife,
professing love for mom that will abound
through time and space until the end of life.
Four years have passed--since first she filed divorce--
no card or letter, nor a seldom call.
A once abundant love could not be forced
to crease a smile, for it would now appall.
Why do I flinch once more and wonder how,
the love departs, which oaths swore never would?
Why they all say, "but things are different now,"
though hearts were sold as things that never could?
Amazing, how such endless loves quick end,
as flimsy tattered fabrics quickly rend.
(C)2014, Christos Rigakos
Nov 27, 2014
Nov 27, 2014 at 12:16 AM UTC
Twisted around your finger tightly
Master, schooled in the art of manipulation
Do they had out degrees for that?
Many victims fell before me
How many will follow?
You play the wounded soul so well
Drawing the adulation of hapless idiots
Professing empathy and compassion
With a heart void of any sincerity
Emotional vampire, leaching attention
Savoring the taste of ultimate control
Puppeteer, yanking fragile life strings
Of a frantically dancing marrionette
Its face contorted in a rictus of pain
Till you tire of the pathetic show
And drop it like a bag of old bones
Thus satisfied,
Walk away looking for the next dummy
Jan 3, 2014
Jan 3, 2014 at 12:27 AM UTC
I sat to write to better your countenance
to uplift your spirit for you were moody
However I found myself professing my impulses
confessing my feelings
Your flame is for the lucky bulky ones
yet I'm blessed with your burning fire
To feel your well tanned beautiful,
so soft looking skin in silky slide would be volcanic
Your lips are for purple satin love
that only flows from royal *******
Your tan is as Angels in the Sun
Even Angels woo you
Your hidden priceless treasure deep beneath
rouses upon the blouse undone by macho and sapphic
innate peculiarities, best known over a length of time
Your awesomeness leaves many a dummies
pondering on your wonders of nature that glows
beyond this world
Your sexiness sweetens the aura around you
creating the hot halo feeling that envelopes you
Your attraction is spell bound
i couldn't help but be addicted to you
Words from your lips hypnotize my feet and thinking
giving me a better feeling
just like seeing an Angel in the Sun that you are.
Aug 6, 2013
Aug 6, 2013 at 9:02 AM UTC
8 ½ by 11 pieces of paper,
College-ruled,
Empty.
That’s how it all started...
Empty-
Filled with possibility-
slowly, we added more
filling the paper together
with dreams-
ambitions-
secrets-
Letters sent back and forth
professing our love
dreaming for the future,
and creating lists-
lists.
lists of the future-
lists of our dreams together-
lists of future plans and happy things-
and as we listed our lives,
we forgot to live them.
we listed romantic dreams
until romance became a dream-
we listed happy things-
until we had none between us..
and then we realized…
that our little page was filled
there was no room for us...
I keep those lists,
in my book,
with me at all times
hidden from the world-
hoping that one day
we may still make those dreams we once dreamed
come true-
knowing we won’t -
the pages aren’t empty-
But I sure am-
an empty shell of my existence
a blank piece of 8 ½ by 11 paper-
All I have is
the list of our future plans and happy little things
our list-
I think it’s time to make a new one-
but **** if I won't keep trying
to one day make those lists
mean something again-
Who knew... it takes longer to move on than it does to fall in love.
Dec 14, 2015
Dec 14, 2015 at 2:58 PM UTC
These orchids are yours, and with them, all colours known to earthly sight.
They shall prove rigid, ever blocking Time's course, professing eternity their right.
Roses express my affections well; blooming amidst the warmth of Summer, fed to satisfaction by the dew of your lips . . . yet they shall wither.
Then dry dust shall be my affections' well; blooming Lycoris Radiata legions advancing amidst the warmth of Death's banner . . . Towards our love's ellipse . . .
YET -
These orchids are yours, and with them, the multi-folded papers from which their fibres and petals are equally composed. These are humble gifts, but were they to boast: "We orchids offer to thine love, an eternity; an assurance of perpetuity, by toast."
Feb 7, 2021
Feb 7, 2021 at 7:05 PM UTC
Standing beneath black skies' hush,
cold rains' fall a stimulating touch
bringing rise to forbearance
forcing stormcells to pressured positions
above our expanse.
These words escape to nothing.
Thick air mixed in
with each vowel of smoke,
straining to glimpse beyond
those choked fragments.
I caught your shadow
skirting the edge of visions
and slipping past my bounds.
You were cloaked in millennia,
time soaked from downpours
seemingly lost of origins,
be they long past
or still forecast,
you were,
falling drops rolling
from silken hair
still bruised in memory,
forgoing present presentation
to reacquaint opportunity
with overlooked encounters.
Soaked to soul,
the ripples spread quick
stepping to the plane of...
...wait,
where are you...
when are we...
...will you be?..
...or have we been
lost in relativity
and escaping in
each word I breathe.
Comprehension critical,
compassionate clouds constantly
reminding of drowning you out,
professing this changing view
in hallowed hurricane whispers.
An angel you became,
living upon these grounds
your plague, living on,
earthly existence anathema,
each second foreword
another progression of
decreeing beating heart
a final concerto, Ava Maria
your soliloquy, serenading
dreams in a missing tongue,
with dying tone
and a pulse set out for loan.
Loneliness my investment,
appreciating until the light was blinding,
pain breaking anthems,
scaling back to feed off
what was left.
I missed our true nature until it was reflex,
illumination only brief glimpses of a passed future,
grief developing to timelines sutures,
bleeding blending was
and has,
with will be still the memory
I'm forced to foresee.
Broken in neutrality,
droplets still caressing the shadow
skirting the corner of my eye.
Your life was short,
I let us die far too young.
Consider it your sacrifice,
the reason for the crying clouds
whose pain soothes these brainstorms
vented through cigarette breaks
wasted pouring words
to howling winds.
Aug 29, 2012
Aug 29, 2012 at 6:06 PM UTC
Fractured Love
The calm nights of twinkling stars,
Brought us out to view their beauty.
We would sit watching in a warm embrace,
Professing our love for each other,
Good times together we did have my love.
Our dedication was to each other so strong.
The long walks together in spring,
Among the lovely blossoms of color.
Life was grand with our love intact,
Eyes glistened with love so sweetly passionate.
Then we drifted far apart, tied to separate lives,
We tried to keep the embers lit and burning.
But alas it was not to be as the flames died,
The stars seem so far away and dim now.
Our eyes now glistening from wet tears,
Our destiny together now fractured.
Two trains on separate tracks passing by,
Our journey now separate and isolated.
Could we have salvaged the feelings?
Can we still be friends as the love is in flight?
© Perveiz Ali
Apr 11, 2016
Apr 11, 2016 at 8:29 AM UTC
Let as many Bondservants as are under the Yoke Count their own Masters Worthy of all Honor, so that the name Of GOD and His Doctrine may not be Blasphemed. And those who have believing masters, let them not Despise them because they are Brethren, but rather Serve them because those who are Benefited are Believers and Beloved. Teach and Exhort these things. If anyone Teaches otherwise and Does not Consent to Wholesome Words even the Words of our LORD Jesus Christ, and to the Doctrine which Accords with Godliness. He is Proud, knowing nothing, but is Obsessed with Disputes and Arguments over Words, from which Come Envy, Strife, Reviling, Evil-Suspicions. Useless Wranglings of Men of Corrupt Minds and Destitute of the Truth, who Suppose that Godliness is A means of Gain. From such Withdraw Thyself. Now Godliness with Contentment is Great Gain. For we Brought nothing into this World, and it is Certained We Can Carry Nothing Out. And having Food and Clothing, with these we shall be Content. But those who Desire to be Rich Fall into Temptation and Snare, and into many Foolish and Harmful Lusts which Drown Men in Destruction and Perdition. For the Love Of Money Is A Root Of All Kinds Of Evil, for which some have Strayed from the Faith in their Greediness, and Pierced Themselves through with many Sorrows. But thou, O Man Of GOD, Flee these things and Pursue Righteousness, Godliness, Faith, LOVE, Patience and Gentleness. Fight the Good Fight Of Faith, lay hold on Eternal Life, to which thou were also called and have Confessed the Good Confession in the Presence of many Witnesses. I Urge You, in the Sight of GOD who gives Life to All things, and before Christ Jesus who Witnessed the Good Confession before Pontius Pilate. That thou Keep this Commandment without Spot, Blameless until our Lord Jesus Christ's Appearing. Which He will Manifest in His Own Time, He who is the Blessed and Only Potentate, Thy King of Kings and Lord of Lords. Who alone has Immortality, Dwelling in Unapproachable Light, whom no Man has Seen or can See, to whom Be Honor and Everlasting Power. Amen... Command those who are Rich in this present Age not to be Haughty, nor to Trust in Uncertain Riches but Trust in the Living GOD, who gives Us Richly all things to Enjoy. Let them do Good, that they be Rich in Good Works, ready to Give, Willing to Share. Storing up for themselves a Good Foundation for the Time to Come, that they may lay Hold on Eternal Life... Guard what was committed to Your Trust, Avoiding the Profane and Idle Babble and Contradictions of what is Falsely called Knowledge.... By Professing it some have Strayed Concerning the Faith.. Grace Be with Ours All.. Amen.!
GOD Is Our Strength,
GOD Is Love,
GOD With Us,
GOD Bless,
Peace n Love.!!
Jun 19, 2015
Jun 19, 2015 at 3:30 AM UTC
He manipulate his friends
and eliminate his enemies by
his cunning craftiness.
And he thinks he has won.
He cries wolf before he falls.
There's a mountain between us,
and he can never be like you
for he is darned.
He is not worthy of your friendship.
He belongs to the circle
of the dreaded assassins,
head of the herdsmen,
their creed is deep,
terrible and terrifying indeed.
Fear the one that is horribly terrifying
for he is after your life.
How does this whole thing landed
within you and what shifted as a result.
Run for your life,
he will not have mercy.
Wickedness is wrought in him.
The gull of bitterness and
hatred surrounds him.
He will be consumed by the same
fire he has set.
There's no freedom for the
one who enslaves anyone,
his weakness is made manifest
for he is a coward.
Professing to hate corruption,
he fights it with a slack hand,
and a lying tongue,
a deceiver not to be trusted.
He eats corruption as a bread of sorrow.
Woven around him as a spiders web,
he seeks destruction for the naive
as well as the elite.
The one who cannot publicly address you
but only through another to get
his messages across to those
he proclaimed to rule,
hiding behind the iron curtain,
surrounded by deadly killers.
Never will he rule again even as a
weakling that he is.
He will woefully fail as always,
for he is not knowledgeable and
has no good plans for you.
Wished he's smart enough to see
how dumb he is.
©2018,Emeka Mokeme. All Rights Reserved.
Sep 16, 2018
Sep 16, 2018 at 8:11 AM UTC
~
Silence, on waves of our tide motioned heartbeats,
cascading rhythms, a smooth metronome
Keeping this time inside blue water passions,
beneath the surface, the feelings we’ve grown
Hidden so deep in the swells of affection,
swimming the shores of a long summer’s night
Building a fortress of seashell laced castles,
sand dollar curtains to fend off the light
Running for cover as sunrise now beckons,
placing our smiles where the seas can not gaze
Whispering secrets of coast line devotion,
harboring dreams till the end of our days
Lighthouse lit beacons now search as a witness,
beaches a’ shimmer of moon glow above
Hoisting our anchor, we share the horizons,
sailing these oceans, professing our love
Oct 8, 2014
Oct 8, 2014 at 12:39 PM UTC