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"respecter" poems
Do you realize that races are overrated, since God is no respecter of persons? Colored perceptions of hatred and bigotry may ultimately destroy our existence. Who needs people that: • Lack brotherly love and respect for others • Lust for power, wealth and ********** • Lack vision and purpose • Lack maturity and wisdom • Have attitudes of superiority • Are poor in spirit • Lack discipline and self-control Colored attitudes, regarding skin tones and hues, pale in contrast to uncontrolled emotions. Without responsibility and accountability, people get themselves in trouble rather quickly. Who really wants or needs: • Red’s lustful, passion for someone other than your spouse? • or Green’s destructional envy of others’ wealth or possessions? • or Yellow’s fear, smelling of ***** from peeing ourselves? • or White’s collection of powdered deaths? • or Blue’s inner sadness or coldness towards others? • or Brown’s poverty, shame and overall uncleanness? • or Orange steadfastness for a Godless life? • or Purple’s smugness from a self-conceived ideal of royalty? • or Black’s foreboding sicknesses and death? Our human collective needs to find real commonality, within this brotherhood of man, as planetary stewards. Under girded with a genuineness of concern and love, true understanding can lead to harmonious relationships. We all have the ability to commune with God’s Spirit; however, we each must have a desire to do so. Utopia may be unattainable, unlike… unity of community. And yes, I forgive you, for thinking I might be racist. Author Notes: Loosely based on: Acts 10: 34; Gal 2: 6; Deut 10: 17; 1 Pet 1: 17 Learn more about me and my poetry at: http: //www.squidoo.com/book-isbn-1419650513 By Joseph J. Breunig 3rd, © 2012, All rights reserved.
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Apr 11, 2013
Apr 11, 2013 at 7:42 AM UTC
Poem: Colored People
Do you realize that races are overrated, since God is no respecter of persons? Colored perceptions of hatred and bigotry may ultimately destroy our existence. Who needs people that: • Lack brotherly love and respect for others • Lust for power, wealth and ********** • Lack vision and purpose • Lack maturity and wisdom • Have attitudes of superiority • Are poor in spirit • Lack discipline and self-control Colored attitudes, regarding skin tones and hues, pale in contrast to uncontrolled emotions. Without responsibility and accountability, people get themselves in trouble rather quickly. Who really wants or needs: • Red’s lustful, passion for someone other than your spouse? • or Green’s destructional envy of others’ wealth or possessions? • or Yellow’s fear, smelling of ***** from peeing ourselves? • or White’s collection of powdered deaths? • or Blue’s inner sadness or coldness towards others? • or Brown’s poverty, shame and overall uncleanness? • or Orange steadfastness for a Godless life? • or Purple’s smugness from a self-conceived ideal of royalty? • or Black’s foreboding sicknesses and death? Our human collective needs to find real commonality, within this brotherhood of man, as planetary stewards. Under girded with a genuineness of concern and love, true understanding can lead to harmonious relationships. We all have the ability to commune with God’s Spirit; however, we each must have a desire to do so. Utopia may be unattainable, unlike… unity of community. And yes, I forgive you, for thinking I might be racist. Author Notes: Loosely based on: Acts 10: 34; Gal 2: 6; Deut 10: 17; 1 Pet 1: 17 Learn more about me and my poetry at: http: //www.squidoo.com/book-isbn-1419650513 By Joseph J. Breunig 3rd, © 2012, All rights reserved.
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all my photos are in his passenger's seat these black and whites of him singing and talking about the wars he has and hasn't been in, navigating Penrose like he walked these roads a thousand times before he ever took a truck-- and he know everybody's name, date of birth and probably their social, who died and when-- he's been livin' as 14 other people, never gets no space and I'm no respecter of that neither cause the way he looks at me used to scare me and now I know he jus' scared himself. saw it when he told me about Braun's body in the brambles, and in the letters he gets from past lovers full of jealous jargon-- you made *me feel terrible*,  your fault, ending in a hundred goodnights, she wants the last word and all I want is for him to tell me what he's thinkin' when he's angry 'cause he is angry, with bitterness sunk down in his bones and swimmin' 'round in his chest, he lost weight out at the rig but kept all that melancholy to himself, brings it home and drops it in a glass before taking it back in he asks why I'm lookin' and it's just 'cause. Just 'cause i'm looking at his eyelashes while he sleeps or the lip of his brow hidin' eyes a lot lighter than you'd think, committing the eagle on his back to memory with that scripture from Isaiah a ways off in my head, scrawled on the back of my heart, written at the crown of his spine, I used to wonder about the integrity of his skin if water'd seep through or run off, used to think he was made of wood with rice paper shutters-- but he's a mountain, a snowcapped alp you wouldn't know it from a ways off, when he's just a soldier standing out in the field, shoulders hunched, chin tucked breathin' cold air, but Lord he warm, fierce as the mistakes he runnin' from-- we both beggin' to be right or good enough, for the sunlight to make us into somethin' pretty somethin' new and shined-- but for now i'm takin' pictures shotgun, hiding my fingers in my pockets thinking about the way his voice'd prolly blow in on the curtains on a summer's day, and he's singing My love, is somewhere in that mountain.... my love is somewhere in that mountain
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Dec 12, 2016
Dec 12, 2016 at 9:49 PM UTC
Jesse Got Trapped in the Coal Mine
all my photos are in his passenger's seat these black and whites of him singing and talking about the wars he has and hasn't been in, navigating Penrose like he walked these roads a thousand times before he ever took a truck-- and he know everybody's name, date of birth and probably their social, who died and when-- he's been livin' as 14 other people, never gets no space and I'm no respecter of that neither cause the way he looks at me used to scare me and now I know he jus' scared himself. saw it when he told me about Braun's body in the brambles, and in the letters he gets from past lovers full of jealous jargon-- you made *me feel terrible*,  your fault, ending in a hundred goodnights, she wants the last word and all I want is for him to tell me what he's thinkin' when he's angry 'cause he is angry, with bitterness sunk down in his bones and swimmin' 'round in his chest, he lost weight out at the rig but kept all that melancholy to himself, brings it home and drops it in a glass before taking it back in he asks why I'm lookin' and it's just 'cause. Just 'cause i'm looking at his eyelashes while he sleeps or the lip of his brow hidin' eyes a lot lighter than you'd think, committing the eagle on his back to memory with that scripture from Isaiah a ways off in my head, scrawled on the back of my heart, written at the crown of his spine, I used to wonder about the integrity of his skin if water'd seep through or run off, used to think he was made of wood with rice paper shutters-- but he's a mountain, a snowcapped alp you wouldn't know it from a ways off, when he's just a soldier standing out in the field, shoulders hunched, chin tucked breathin' cold air, but Lord he warm, fierce as the mistakes he runnin' from-- we both beggin' to be right or good enough, for the sunlight to make us into somethin' pretty somethin' new and shined-- but for now i'm takin' pictures shotgun, hiding my fingers in my pockets thinking about the way his voice'd prolly blow in on the curtains on a summer's day, and he's singing My love, is somewhere in that mountain.... my love is somewhere in that mountain
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CONSCIENCE TIME OF THOUGHT: LOST DATE OF THOUGHT: LOST OGUNLABI OLAJIDE YUSUF-Nativepen The incorrigible judge of the universe The voice of man's spirit The breaker of the stone heart You should get one He pounds the accusssed heart to confession A mortal pessil The rod that punishes The accused mind He chastises the mind of kings and priests He makes the most secretive to voice out The arch angel in our heart Who dare resist him He changes the mood of a friendly one Whenever they misbehave He never condone any indiscipline around him Whenever he sights any bad deeds The ever faithful companion He is no respecter of anyone You should get one You sincerely need one Dear friend Do you have a conscience? Dear friend get one You really need to.
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Feb 13, 2016
Feb 13, 2016 at 4:02 AM UTC
CONSCIENCE
Sonnet. Se voir le plus possible et s'aimer seulement, Sans ruse et sans détours, sans honte ni mensonge, Sans qu'un désir nous trompe, ou qu'un remords nous ronge, Vivre à deux et donner son coeur à tout moment ; Respecter sa pensée aussi **** qu'on y plonge, Faire de son amour un jour au lieu d'un songe, Et dans cette clarté respirer librement Ainsi respirait Laure et chantait son amant. Vous dont chaque pas touche à la grâce suprême, Cest vous, la tête en fleurs, qu'on croirait sans souci, C'est vous qui me disiez qu'il faut aimer ainsi. Et c'est moi, vieil enfant du doute et du blasphème, Qui vous écoute, et pense, et vous réponds ceci : Oui, l'on vit autrement, mais c'est ainsi qu'on aime.
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996
Se voir le plus possible
Enoch was a dynamic soul who truly sought God’s heart; as a result of revelation knowledge being imparted unto him, God plucked him from the earth so that he was “no more.” Since Jehovah is no respecter of persons and there is “nothing new under the sun”, then why do we know only of a single individual who was transported to heaven in the same manner without experiencing an earthly demise? How many “other” Enochs were there whose names are unknown? Did Enoch’s life story inspire God to put His Word into print with the intention of history repeating itself? Why do ministers neglect Enoch’s story? Perhaps by contrast it would reflect poorly on themselves, seeing they are still with us. Author Note: Learn more about me and my poetry at: http://www.squidoo.com/book-isbn-1419650513/ By Joseph J. Breunig 3rd, © 2009, All rights reserved.
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Nov 8, 2012
Nov 8, 2012 at 9:21 AM UTC
Poem: Enoch
Shushed until now Respecter of no status Not even the blue bloods Even men of timber and caliber shivers Ha! Uncle Sam trembles at thy blow What a time for the atheist To raise both hands skyward A time to trust the unknown In the hands of the one Made known by nature
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Apr 13, 2020
Apr 13, 2020 at 1:53 PM UTC
COVID19
Adieu ! je crois qu'en cette vie Je ne te reverrai jamais. Dieu passe, il t'appelle et m'oublie ; En te perdant je sens que je t'aimais. Pas de pleurs, pas de plainte vaine. Je sais respecter l'avenir. Vienne la voile qui t'emmène, En souriant je la verrai partir. Tu t'en vas pleine d'espérance, Avec orgueil tu reviendras ; Mais ceux qui vont souffrir de ton absence, Tu ne les reconnaîtras pas. Adieu ! tu vas faire un beau rêve Et t'enivrer d'un plaisir dangereux ; Sur ton chemin l'étoile qui se lève Longtemps encor éblouira tes yeux. Un jour tu sentiras peut-être Le prix d'un coeur qui nous comprend, Le bien qu'on trouve à le connaître, Et ce qu'on souffre en le perdant.
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768
Adieu
She asked me, Who are you? I responded, What do you mean? My headed and thoughts thickened and clouded over; Who am I? Have I lost touch of all the wonderful blocks that build me     to me? Have I lost the emotions and roots that created me     to be me? I know I have found her before, once or  twice when alone and happy and free, but now I've morphed into, just me. Then I think, all these things I think are me, are they me? Or are they what others see in me? Have I morphed into a "What you see me"? People say I am warm and bright, but all I can ask is who are you? Are you changing? Are you sliding by? Who do you want to be vs. who were you? I'm Claire. I'm unfiltered, I'm easy going, I'm nervous but adventurous, I'm authentic and open with everyone, When I love you, I LOVE you     and when I hate you, I just don't care about you anymore. I'm so open I hurt deeply, I'm selfish    but I think everyone should be in some ways. I always see another side, I'm dramatic but I shy from frienship and relationship drama I don't belong to one mold, I'm always changing and shifting I'm an imaginer and not much of a do-er, I'm a listener, God respecter. I find it funny, my whole life my parents said, "You're unique", but never said why or how to use this "uniqueness". I just grew up thinking, "I'm unique" but I still don't know why. I'm pretty much like everyone else I think, I feel, I love, I see, I react. I change so much in a day its hard to focus on who I'm being in one moment. I don't know who I am, I really don't even know who I want to be, I just want to be better than I am now.
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Jul 29, 2019
Jul 29, 2019 at 12:09 PM UTC
Who Are You?
She asked me, Who are you? I responded, What do you mean? My headed and thoughts thickened and clouded over; Who am I? Have I lost touch of all the wonderful blocks that build me     to me? Have I lost the emotions and roots that created me     to be me? I know I have found her before, once or  twice when alone and happy and free, but now I've morphed into, just me. Then I think, all these things I think are me, are they me? Or are they what others see in me? Have I morphed into a "What you see me"? People say I am warm and bright, but all I can ask is who are you? Are you changing? Are you sliding by? Who do you want to be vs. who were you? I'm Claire. I'm unfiltered, I'm easy going, I'm nervous but adventurous, I'm authentic and open with everyone, When I love you, I LOVE you     and when I hate you, I just don't care about you anymore. I'm so open I hurt deeply, I'm selfish    but I think everyone should be in some ways. I always see another side, I'm dramatic but I shy from frienship and relationship drama I don't belong to one mold, I'm always changing and shifting I'm an imaginer and not much of a do-er, I'm a listener, God respecter. I find it funny, my whole life my parents said, "You're unique", but never said why or how to use this "uniqueness". I just grew up thinking, "I'm unique" but I still don't know why. I'm pretty much like everyone else I think, I feel, I love, I see, I react. I change so much in a day its hard to focus on who I'm being in one moment. I don't know who I am, I really don't even know who I want to be, I just want to be better than I am now.
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This Tricky Cunning Fellow One so young, gone A companion of all, a lover of none Like a thief in the night This tricky cunning fellow will come and ***** out your light A king’s nightmare, a mother’s worst enemy This tricky cunning fellow is a respecter of none, trust me An experience will change your life forever Nowhere to run, cower or hide when he comes like an uninvited lover He will dine and wine with you, dropping one or two lies as he whispers to you Be not deceived, his goal isn’t to tease or please, he is there just to ruin No number of warriors, magicians or strong towers can keep him back This tricky cunning fellow is a master in the art of war, he will simply attack Just when your guard is down and when you least expect, calamity strikes! Only then would you get the fame and love you so desired via a thousand Facebook likes Friends and family who never cared for you, yet smiling while baring envious teeth But it is that tricky cunning fellow who opened your eyes to see the truth, by closing it For some a time to eat and drink and show their affluence Instead of reflection and regrets while they mourn in silence But their time cometh one way or another, whether by man, man-made or natural causes Everyone must submit to his wit, charm and supernatural forces A recruitment not even age, class, creed or *** can be exempt from its call Child, rich, poor, male, female, sick, healthy, black or white, must fall in line, not one, but all A race where there is no winner or loser, just a referee blowing a whistle to start the run This tricky cunning fellow is indeed a companion of all, and a lover of none
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Jan 7, 2018
Jan 7, 2018 at 2:29 PM UTC
This Tricky Cunning Fellow
This Tricky Cunning Fellow One so young, gone A companion of all, a lover of none Like a thief in the night This tricky cunning fellow will come and ***** out your light A king’s nightmare, a mother’s worst enemy This tricky cunning fellow is a respecter of none, trust me An experience will change your life forever Nowhere to run, cower or hide when he comes like an uninvited lover He will dine and wine with you, dropping one or two lies as he whispers to you Be not deceived, his goal isn’t to tease or please, he is there just to ruin No number of warriors, magicians or strong towers can keep him back This tricky cunning fellow is a master in the art of war, he will simply attack Just when your guard is down and when you least expect, calamity strikes! Only then would you get the fame and love you so desired via a thousand Facebook likes Friends and family who never cared for you, yet smiling while baring envious teeth But it is that tricky cunning fellow who opened your eyes to see the truth, by closing it For some a time to eat and drink and show their affluence Instead of reflection and regrets while they mourn in silence But their time cometh one way or another, whether by man, man-made or natural causes Everyone must submit to his wit, charm and supernatural forces A recruitment not even age, class, creed or *** can be exempt from its call Child, rich, poor, male, female, sick, healthy, black or white, must fall in line, not one, but all A race where there is no winner or loser, just a referee blowing a whistle to start the run This tricky cunning fellow is indeed a companion of all, and a lover of none
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Forgiveness takes the bitten hand And then holds it out again A respecter of all men Forgiveness then forgives For without forgiveness in our lives What would we find to gage love by For all the hurt to end Forgiveness must forgive When I think about myself It's me to blame and no one else For after all didn't all I need Forgiveness to forgive
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Nov 20, 2013
Nov 20, 2013 at 4:59 PM UTC
Forgivness
no respecter of persons and neither should I be no respecter of persons and neither should I be
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Jan 18, 2014
Jan 18, 2014 at 8:51 PM UTC
On being ashamed to look in the mirror.
Comment une  Femme m'a émue Des jambes fines terminées par des baskets, Des cheveux qui tombent sur les épaules, Un bracelet vert sur le bras, Et ce petit short noir si pudique, qu'il en est émouvant. Chère belle inconnue rencontrée dans ce bus, Je me gardais bien de t'aborder ni  de t’importuner, A peine t’avais-je jeté un regard discret, pour respecter ton intimité, et parce que nos âges étaient par trop lointains. Mais ta fugitive beauté, ta fraîcheur, ta joliesse, ont été l'arc-en-ciel en  cette  journée. Il existe parfois des croisements éphémères Qui vous apportent plus, Que de longs propos et des espoirs déçus. Paul Arrighi
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Mar 25, 2016
Mar 25, 2016 at 6:14 PM UTC
Comment une Femme m'a émue ? (As a woman touched me ? )
Il est deux Amitiés comme il est deux Amours. L'une ressemble à l'imprudence ; Faite pour l'âge heureux dont elle a l'ignorance, C'est une enfant qui rit toujours. Bruyante, naïve, légère, Elle éclate en transports joyeux. Aux préjugés du monde indocile, étrangère, Elle confond les rangs et folâtre avec eux. L'instinct du cœur est sa science, Et son guide est la confiance. L'enfance ne sait point haïr ; Elle ignore qu'on peut trahir. Si l'ennui dans ses yeux (on l'éprouve à tout âge) Fait rouler quelques pleurs, L'Amitié les arrête, et couvre ce nuage D'un nuage de fleurs. On la voit s'élancer près de l'enfant qu'elle aime, Caresser la douleur sans la comprendre encor, Lui jeter des bouquets moins riants qu'elle-même, L'obliger à la fuite et reprendre l'essor. C'est elle, ô ma première amie ! Dont la chaîne s'étend pour nous unir toujours. Elle embellit par toi l'aurore de ma vie, Elle en doit embellir encor les derniers jours. Oh ! que son empire est aimable ! Qu'il répand un charme ineffable Sur la jeunesse et l'avenir, Ce doux reflet du souvenir ! Ce rêve pur de notre enfance En a prolongé l'innocence ; L'Amour, le temps, l'absence, le malheur, Semblent le respecter dans le fond de mon cœur. Il traverse avec nous la saison des orages, Comme un rayon du ciel qui nous guide et nous luit : C'est, ma chère, un jour sans nuages Qui prépare une douce nuit. L'autre Amitié, plus grave, plus austère, Se donne avec lenteur, choisit avec mystère ; Elle observe en silence et craint de s'avancer ; Elle écarte les fleurs, de peur de s'y blesser. Choisissant la raison pour conseil et pour guide, Elle voit par ses yeux et marche sur ses pas : Son abord est craintif, son regard est timide ; Elle attend, et ne prévient pas.
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Les deux amitiés
Il est deux Amitiés comme il est deux Amours. L'une ressemble à l'imprudence ; Faite pour l'âge heureux dont elle a l'ignorance, C'est une enfant qui rit toujours. Bruyante, naïve, légère, Elle éclate en transports joyeux. Aux préjugés du monde indocile, étrangère, Elle confond les rangs et folâtre avec eux. L'instinct du cœur est sa science, Et son guide est la confiance. L'enfance ne sait point haïr ; Elle ignore qu'on peut trahir. Si l'ennui dans ses yeux (on l'éprouve à tout âge) Fait rouler quelques pleurs, L'Amitié les arrête, et couvre ce nuage D'un nuage de fleurs. On la voit s'élancer près de l'enfant qu'elle aime, Caresser la douleur sans la comprendre encor, Lui jeter des bouquets moins riants qu'elle-même, L'obliger à la fuite et reprendre l'essor. C'est elle, ô ma première amie ! Dont la chaîne s'étend pour nous unir toujours. Elle embellit par toi l'aurore de ma vie, Elle en doit embellir encor les derniers jours. Oh ! que son empire est aimable ! Qu'il répand un charme ineffable Sur la jeunesse et l'avenir, Ce doux reflet du souvenir ! Ce rêve pur de notre enfance En a prolongé l'innocence ; L'Amour, le temps, l'absence, le malheur, Semblent le respecter dans le fond de mon cœur. Il traverse avec nous la saison des orages, Comme un rayon du ciel qui nous guide et nous luit : C'est, ma chère, un jour sans nuages Qui prépare une douce nuit. L'autre Amitié, plus grave, plus austère, Se donne avec lenteur, choisit avec mystère ; Elle observe en silence et craint de s'avancer ; Elle écarte les fleurs, de peur de s'y blesser. Choisissant la raison pour conseil et pour guide, Elle voit par ses yeux et marche sur ses pas : Son abord est craintif, son regard est timide ; Elle attend, et ne prévient pas.
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pain the teacher the only instructor who instructs after punishment PAIN the only teacher who flogs you without a cain PAIN it teaches you the bittersweet truth PAIN it knows nobody PAIN it is a respecter of noon PAIN it won't stop until you learn. PAIN the best instructor anyone can ever have. PAIN take or leave it one way or the other everyone gets trashed pain pain pain
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Sep 5, 2020
Sep 5, 2020 at 12:52 PM UTC
Pain the teacher
DEATH TIME OF THOUGHT:LOST DATE OF THOUGHT:LOST OGUNLABI OLAJIDE YUSUF-Nativepen DEATH Umm............... The end of mortals sojourn An Au'gust visitor A must all living dislike Is there any armour against it? A thief that strikes unnoticed A snatcher A destroyer He snatches the forgotten The free born The most sought after Even the loved one's are not left out He snatches the kings maker The princes and princess The queens are not excluded Not to talk of the kings He is a cruel messenger He is no respecter of anyone What a ruthless messenger The offer of gold, brass and bronze He rejects The best attire in style never frick him What a cruel you are A ticket to the judgement hall The leverage amongst all He is not a friend of all classes; Pauper,slave and the wealthy Oh death The breaker of the umbreakable bond.
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Feb 12, 2016
Feb 12, 2016 at 3:25 PM UTC
DEATH
This Tricky Cunning Fellow One so young, gone A companion of all, a lover of none Like a thief in the night This tricky cunning fellow will come and ***** out your light A king’s nightmare, a mother’s worst enemy This tricky cunning fellow is a respecter of none, trust me An experience will change your life forever Nowhere to run, cower or hide when he comes like an uninvited lover He will dine and wine with you, dropping one or two lies as he whispers to you Be not deceived, his goal isn’t to tease or please, he is there just to ruin No number of warriors, magicians or strong towers can keep him back This tricky cunning fellow is a master in the art of war, he will simply attack Just when your guard is down and when you least expect, calamity strikes! Only then would you get the fame and love you so desired via a thousand Facebook likes Friends and family who never cared for you, yet smiling while baring envious teeth But it is that tricky cunning fellow who opened your eyes to see the truth, by closing it For some a time to eat and drink and show their affluence Instead of reflection and regrets while they mourn in silence But their time cometh one way or another, whether by man, man-made or natural causes Everyone must submit to his wit, charm and supernatural forces A recruitment not even age, class, creed or *** can be exempt from its call Child, rich, poor, male, female, sick, healthy, black or white, must fall in line, not one, but all A race where there is no winner or loser, just a referee blowing a whistle to start the run This tricky cunning fellow is indeed a companion of all, and a lover of none
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Jan 14, 2018
Jan 14, 2018 at 2:56 PM UTC
This Tricky Cunning Fellow
This Tricky Cunning Fellow One so young, gone A companion of all, a lover of none Like a thief in the night This tricky cunning fellow will come and ***** out your light A king’s nightmare, a mother’s worst enemy This tricky cunning fellow is a respecter of none, trust me An experience will change your life forever Nowhere to run, cower or hide when he comes like an uninvited lover He will dine and wine with you, dropping one or two lies as he whispers to you Be not deceived, his goal isn’t to tease or please, he is there just to ruin No number of warriors, magicians or strong towers can keep him back This tricky cunning fellow is a master in the art of war, he will simply attack Just when your guard is down and when you least expect, calamity strikes! Only then would you get the fame and love you so desired via a thousand Facebook likes Friends and family who never cared for you, yet smiling while baring envious teeth But it is that tricky cunning fellow who opened your eyes to see the truth, by closing it For some a time to eat and drink and show their affluence Instead of reflection and regrets while they mourn in silence But their time cometh one way or another, whether by man, man-made or natural causes Everyone must submit to his wit, charm and supernatural forces A recruitment not even age, class, creed or *** can be exempt from its call Child, rich, poor, male, female, sick, healthy, black or white, must fall in line, not one, but all A race where there is no winner or loser, just a referee blowing a whistle to start the run This tricky cunning fellow is indeed a companion of all, and a lover of none
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If Death was my best friend, would I go through life unnerving and unafraid? Would I read through the book of my life, feeling no fear to turn each page? I would roam where the unwary stumble across the bones of the lost, fighting for my freedom at any age and at any cost. I would face my enemies and speak the truth, even if knowing it would lead to my demise Flank my adversaries and catch them by surprise! But alas, Death is the friend of no man, He'll grip you in his icy grasp, regardless of dreams or plans, He is no respecter of age, youth or elder Wether you are lost in the storm or already to shelter. But still I shall not be afraid. I shall go through the story of life and not only turn, but rewrite every page For this is my story, for me to rise up and accept my glory, Wether it be fame, shame or neither I'll live my life on my terms, No longer distracted through your intoxicating memory, No longer wishing to breathe you in like ether
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Apr 28, 2016
Apr 28, 2016 at 4:47 PM UTC
Death Is No Friend
There are times when the night seems too long my dead son; days that bring that constant reminder of the night your heart stopped and started those three times, so I read, then the fourth time next day you were dead. Twenty nine is no age, my dear son, but death's no respecter of such things, has no rules to obey: years or months, weeks or day. A strong grip is grief's hold, my big son, chokes throat, waters eyes, pains sad heart, numbs dull brain with deep pain.
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Aug 15, 2015
Aug 15, 2015 at 5:55 PM UTC
NIGHT TOO LONG.
Perhaps rules really were Meant to be broken Checkpoints, goals, objectives You’re developed, you’re grown When you’ve learned the secret That rules weren’t intended to be followed Not precisely, for certain Everyone at some point must learn To bend the rules So... what does that make me? The respecter of rules. I did everything you asked I took all the precautions Memorized the guidelines Never broke a rule Am I... am I to be broken in their place?
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Nov 20, 2019
Nov 20, 2019 at 3:03 AM UTC
Rules
Sometimes I’m strong and sometimes the nights are too long. Sometimes I feel love and sometimes the pain is all I have. As the pain grows so is the fear. Fear will come upon you like a thief in the night. Stealing the strength you need to carry all the weight. The heavier it becomes the slower your gait. Struggle to hold on to what I thought I knew, My reality once clear suddenly no longer seemed true. But must remind myself that time is not a respecter of no man , for it marches on Even when we need a minute or two to catch our breath. When we don’t feel like it anymore, we must push on and begin again. Every day when life is trying, I laid my soul bare to the master’s feet, In a blink of an eye I no longer felt sad. Given another chance to begin again. Turn my tears into joy. My tears now gone and replaced with a smile. Standing tall And so full of love, a clear path for others to seek. Finally my head held up high. No longer feeling heavy, but light enough to fly. Black bird’s in the sky with my wings spread out, if you need a hug. Soft clouds and sunshine awakens the gratitude within. Forget the pain and the disappointment and begin again. Brace yourself , embrace the wonder. Brothers and sisters, suffering from illness and darkness, facing an unknown future, please know that you stand amongst. And be thankful you still exist. This one for YOU!
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Jan 16, 2021
Jan 16, 2021 at 5:32 AM UTC
This One For You