"sceptics" poems
Reincarnation
We all die
And that’s a must
Eventually we turn to atomic dust
The atoms have been
And always will be
From before we stepped out of
The primeval sea
They cannot die
Or multiply
They just are
And that’s no lie
So when people say
We have not lived before
Just turn the key
And point to the door
As we are all made
From stuff of the past
And scientists pin their claim
To that mast
So reincarnation
It is a fact
And in this life
We have to act
So sceptics you can argue all night
But of the above there is no fight
The soul and the spirit on the other hand
May be discovered if it is planned
Like the higg’s boson particle
Which is hypothetical
You have the right
To think
Soul is theoretical
Feb 22, 2011
Feb 22, 2011 at 11:32 AM UTC
Body language, it must be her body language
I catch myself staring at her confidence, sorry girl if I can't explain this
You see your aura shows gold and your passion shines bright
Your heart beats fast because of your sleepless, nervous nights
Of the thought that a man may actually know how to treat ya, greet ya, and hell maybe show honest affection
He may actually just wanna lay with you and hear you speak without any degrating corrections
You're a star. Beyond that in this abstract world where you and I are
As we lay ontop of the car and I point out the Little Dipper you show me the idea of comfortable love by tomorrow
Midnight kisses, sensation from my misses
It's the opportunities in life's that we should cherish that's my mission
Tear drops coming from a broken mask as we bash and I pour my stubborn heart into her empty glass
To find something that can forever last
No matter what the sceptics say
Girl, I don't listen to chatters I listen to only what my mind will say.
Follow me. I wanna guide you. I wanna show you. I know I didn't allow myself to feel the grasps of a good woman
But I held on
I never released. I believe in the chance of us...can you believe in the idea of me?
Jun 21, 2014
Jun 21, 2014 at 3:27 PM UTC
No crocus' will bloom at the bed of this hill
as Orcus attends the open chest, spilled
into a lake that drowns these broken oaths.
Along with the words pronounced the most
in pages of prose spoke in endeavor.
Like the perpetual lie, "I'll love you forever."
Jul 9, 2011
Jul 9, 2011 at 12:43 PM UTC
*they say he was a clever ****
*the cleverest **** around*
*there were no *****
as clever as him ever found
his Dickie manner
smarter than all the rest
which proved beyond doubt
that he was the best
**** became a legend*
for being so sharp of mind
never had the world
seen such a brilliant kind
*the expert **** known*
near and far
his absolute brightness
made him a star
but sceptics had another
*opinion of ****
they saw that he was
a numbskull brick
you'll always get
an opposite point of view
from folks who have a defter
more insightful review
*they say he was a clever ****
*the cleverest **** around*
*there were no *****
as clever as him ever found
Sep 20, 2017
Sep 20, 2017 at 6:51 AM UTC
It was if I was transported back to my past
looking at the railway building.
You can sense the ghosts of a bygone age
when travelling was fun.
Clicking of wheels on the metal track
brings such happy memories back.
Through the Severn valley it chugged along
young and old enjoying the relaxing pace
Very romantic with the nostalgia of steam
passing stations as they use to be.
Signal boxes with all their manual levers
makes even sceptics believers.
Within thy minds eye nature engulfs you
on the train life is green not blue.
The Foureyed Poet
Apr 25, 2011
Apr 25, 2011 at 5:51 PM UTC
you slipped it on each others finger
swept gaily out into your future
children blessed the union
man and woman
the wedding dress hangs in a closet
a reminder
the rings on the fingers still shining
witnesses to love the heroic couple
who daily live out their promises
so sorely needed in world of sceptics
Jul 23, 2014
Jul 23, 2014 at 11:03 AM UTC
In a deep slumber
I see myself singing
To life
to love
and to moments
come and gone
The words were lost
a vagabond in the forest
awaiting the night
each day passing by
only in wonder
of the victory
of silence over noise
Some swayed out
while some stuck in my throat
Both journeys worth their while
One,
where come out the letters
swinging along the spaces
the curves
and the turns
making the tongue dance
on the music they play
a silent art known only to them
and the tranquil thread
of letters flow by
dancing through my lips
they enter the curves of the ears
Another,
suppressed by my heart
to stay in them for a while
and longer
until the time is right.
These are words
most sacred and holy
chosen by the philosopher
the sceptics
and the night
to be unleashed
only, when the time is right
I learnt about this mystery
In the deep slumber
when I sang unlike awake
and I spoke unlike my silence
This mystery of words
and their bond with sound
they clinked to my ears
and made the heart bleed out
And this mystery unfolded
when my knowledge of words
began a dance with sound
and choose my lips
to be the floor they dance on...
Aug 3, 2016
Aug 3, 2016 at 9:57 AM UTC
Oh pretty diamonds in the sky
You always tell me such sweet lies
I look at you when I want to see
That flawless diamond meant for me
Where is he? May I have a clue?
Where's the one to whom I'll be true?
Does he think of me or where we'll meet?
Will he keep looking until we're complete?
I want the one that'll leave me in a fever
Forget all my woes and make me a believer
A one night stand that lasts forever
Let's take a chance and pull the lever
How will I know when his face I see?
Will there be a sign? A big marquee?
These sceptics I must soon defeat
Before my heart is one and I retreat
Oh pretty diamonds way up there
Please send my great everlasting love affair
Feb 25, 2014
Feb 25, 2014 at 8:47 PM UTC
The interesting thing about physics... Sceptics.
Is that were always looking for proof, but what will happen if we found it?
Theologies & hypothesis is like trapping love in a test tube or breath mint.
That don't make sense but even money now shows you the sinful abominations.
"and God Still dances ominous for sovereignty is Good for human dominance because we always wanna control something that we never made in this life of consequence."
Aug 8, 2014
Aug 8, 2014 at 1:58 AM UTC
Make yourself discernable
Let my senses percieve
Your Love and Being
For I want to believe.
There's Wisdom in your words
I know You're the way
Out of this confusion
That surrounds me today.
I can't make it alone
I need your love
With me
Every day.
Hear my plea, Lord Jesus!
Aid the lost soul
Equip me to combat
The evil in the world.
Let me bear the sceptics
With their alternative Lives
Let me know deception
Yield not to its lie.
I can' t make it alone...
Make yourself adjacent
Let my spirit receive
The Holy Ghost
For
I do believe.
Mar 11, 2016
Mar 11, 2016 at 5:15 PM UTC
I hear them in the frail beating of darkness
they call asking to talk to their loved ones
their past echo's of reality resound in my mind
and all I can do is listen and relay their words
I never asked to be a in between
to be a representation of the dead
but here I am in the midnight hour
conveying the words they have said
To have a gift that is feasibly insane
to know others think me rather strange
I know half believe the other half are sceptics
yet my world is arranged not at all deranged
In the old days, oh those days
they would torture you
make you confess to their lies
and drape the cloak of death on you
But here I am
in the shadow of the night
working hard
to give spirits flight
By Christos Andreas Kourtis aka NeonSolaris
Sep 10, 2013
Sep 10, 2013 at 9:56 PM UTC
A church is not a building,
it's a meeting of the people;
that need no graven images,
that do not need a steeple.
God doesn't need a temple,
He's found most everywhere,
except in minds of sceptics,
or those who just don't care.
The hearts of men are stunted,
inside, their souls are dead;
they have no Spirit in them,
just carnal thoughts instead.
They are not called to God,
they are but slaves to sin;
they perish with no knowledge,
blind to where they've been.
A church is not a building,
it's the people of the Word;
that adhere to God's commandments,
and the power of his sword.
Jun 30, 2016
Jun 30, 2016 at 2:07 PM UTC
Scarred hearts are the greatest dreamers
And the magnets due to the common pain.
The greatest sceptics and shy believers
Healing their wounds in the true love's rain...
Jul 12, 2018
Jul 12, 2018 at 7:27 PM UTC
identity
we all have it
i am me and you are it
what it is that i know is for you to find out
if i work really hard and get good at it it'll earn me a living
but if everyone knew what everyone else knows
there'd be nothing to sell
and nothing to buy
nothing to share
and nothing to hide
nothing to tell
and nothing to write
nothing to fear
and nothing to hate
nothing to look forward to
and nothing to be proud of
but if i manage to keep that ace up my sleeve
that influences time or even technology
that makes the unbendable sceptics believe
that notable pattern in astrology
what i see is mine because i saw it first
and i saw it explode with a perfunctory burst
it might make no sense whatsoever
but that isn't going to last forever
because if you knew what i knew i wouldn't be me
or have we forgotten what it means to be free
or have we given in to our own charity
or would we oblige to that old blasphemy
that says even sinners deserve sanctuary
or is altruism a strange alchemy
or a studious drive to epistemology
or a political divide over ideology
that critically questions theology
we need to keep secrets because that's who we are
but we also need to be fair
Jan 30, 2016
Jan 30, 2016 at 10:50 PM UTC
And colours stream in dreams and beams
Suffice to infinite ignite the sky
Inspires hearts to soar, take flight
In a dance, daze, dream of divine revelry
That lift one wondrous out the fight
Of hurricane raging by
Irrepressible, that honeyed bow
Wends through sky, celestial arc
Through which the cosmic fires go
Imbued with bright celestial spark
Dreaming, rocking to and fro
See how we go, on Love's arc
Stealthy on wing like crow
And colours stream in dreams and beams
Shine in spite of sceptics faith
Blaze in spite of eyes embrace
Celestial crown perfect, sense no bars or seams
What fine art could frame the face
Of the ravishing rainbow supreme
Which lifts one after tumbling from grace
Like Dorothy back to Earth from the most seismic dream
Oct 16, 2017
Oct 16, 2017 at 4:37 AM UTC
We read about you.
We know about you.
You preached upon.
But, do we really know you?
Yes, you're still a mystery to us all.
Segments of your life is overlooked.
Why?
Simply because they don't know all about you.
You might have done things some stated you did
Oh, they can argue it.
They can debate it.
But they wasn't there to deny it.
Sure many won't even buy it.
Yes, there are sceptics or scrutinizers and rightly so.
All our lives isn't what it seems?
But it wouldn't bother you if you were exposed.
You accomplished your appointed goal.
You came down to save a lot of souls.
So rather we know all segments of you is secondary to the primary you was assigned.
Jesus, I'm glad to call you a friend of mine.
May 5, 2016
May 5, 2016 at 10:48 AM UTC
Debates, heated arguments, whispers, gossip
Intimacy has become a social statement
A crisis to fight for, to stand out and picket
Joy has become a point that needs to be proven
Whether she wants to or not.
A sweet demeanor and kind words sheath defiance
They see right through it, her.
Her youth may never be completely bridled by his experience
His experience made null and void just by being in the presence of her youth.
She senses the eyes of sceptics
Struggling hard to attain the coveted self-righteous title of soothsayer
Their legal union is a contentious spectacle
The grief deemed too short-lived for their liking
His newfound happiness, an affront
She will always be that other woman, that young wife of his
A schemer working some angle
Eclipsed by his first love
She could never outshine the deceased
With the dead there is no quarrel, there could never be any wrong
She knows better than to ill-speak the one in the ground
What can she say, than to secretly wish he was unhappy, he was chained to a heinous ogre for a wife
It might have made it easier, a triumphant justification
She, his refuge, his respite rather than a ruin to his reputation
Indignant disrespect placed on her shoulders
Her first, his last
A beginning made possible by an ending
Acutely aware,
She knows her place.
Sep 10, 2017
Sep 10, 2017 at 6:30 AM UTC