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See them standing on the podium of promises
Tickling us to wed them into power
As we stand under the burning sun, sweaty as ever
All ears to their flowered words of which they caress
And powdered our minds with.
They donate maggi, salt, wears and the root of all evil,
To further blind our minds and instinct.
Like goats following a hand with a palm fruit,
We chased them with high hopes to the polls,
Like Esau of old we repay their donation with our votes.

Their desires were met, now in power
At serious battle against their promises,
Our faith getting lean, our hopes bleed in response to their policies.
The opposition jubilant for the failure of the electorates.
Soon, they awoke into reality, spur to abort incumbent reign.
Some took to bombs, guns, cutlasses, few to the streets.
The opposition soldiers are thugs, always hungry to ****.
The masses weapons are their mouth, placards,
And solidarity songs, they walk and sing.
They say when elephants fight the grasses suffer
I wonder who are the elephants or the grasses indeed.
A  place that suppose to be our home now a battle field
Where everyone fights for self survival
Forgetting the unborn, our toddlers, our heroes past.

It is high time we talked and sack the thugs
But who will moderate
Who will faithfully give audience, who will sincerely talk?
The elite, the elected seems like they are war ready
They have well set up their political troops
A war they won't stand to fight
But escape through thinning air off our sight.

In a molding  state
Pigs dare to preach sanity
In a world of questions, ignorance remain the worst cancer
And the apex poverty.
Let not fold our hands and live to die in this doom
If your lips are scared, let your pen speak.
Let not throw in the towel
Until we justfully elapse the reign of the unwanted in one peace.
The inspiration for this poem came from the power struggle in my country and how  we have been very unlucky in getting a leader that all can fully accept. Our leaders here barely keep their promises.
David Beltran Dec 2012
I sit and stall late at night
When I can't sleep,
Hoping I hear your voice,
Waiting up to see if you call.

But I know that's not gonna happen,
Your heart sings out for another.
Even though it does, I'm still all yours.
Every last bit.

My friends hate it, my mother hates it, my other friends laugh at it,
But you know what?

I don't care. Cause if I did, then I probably didn't really love you.
But I do.

But what does it matter? Loving you has helped and killed me.
You will never know that, because I will never tell you.

And we'll grow old together
And spend time fighting and fixing and fighting and fixing.
But you'll call me an angel, a friend, a brother. Nothing more. Angel.

And you will never ask why I do the things I do for you,
Because maybe you're afraid to know the honest truth.
Maybe the truth you've known from the beginning.
Cause not one person has done what I've done for you.
I will always want you, always.

I wish I was drunk, high, ****** when I wrote this,
This little piece of me, this little mess in me. Written sober.

And while the world is all quiet and sleeping their lives away,
I live mine awake thinking of you.
I sincerely *Love you. Good night.
I would love to hear feedback.
Nat Nov 2012
Congratulations, you now have a sweet *** ride
It was really my own fault for leaving it outside.
I have to say, I’m almost impressed,
because stealing a bike must have been quite the test.
In broad daylight, no less, you snuck up to my house,
snatched up my bike and scurried off,
quiet
as a mouse.
My neighbors must have been distracted, you picked a great time,
to steal that bike right off my lawn, the perfect crime.
I hope that you took it because you loved it a lot,
not so you could sell it, get some money,
and buy,
lots of ***.
But I’m sure that’s not the case, you wouldn’t do that,
I’m sure that you’re just borrowing it to bike off some fat.
Or you took it because you couldn’t afford one for your kids,
if that’s the case don’t worry,
I’m glad,
that you did.
Regardless of the reason it was taken for,
I’ve learned my lesson, I’ll leave my bike out no more!
Anyway, I hope that you’re now really happy.
Good day to you.
Sincerely,
Me
My bike really got stolen.
And now it's out there somewhere, scared and alone.
East Wind Nov 2016
Nothing comes easily to me
except maybe impulsivity
it dawned on me recently
that my time on earth is transitory
I was depressed for a while, but
it is what it is so let it be it
I decided to chase my dreams
only, I didn't have the courage
it's too late to apologize to myself
for not realizing what my dreams were

My mind wanders a few times a day
I let it go wherever it may
I'm positive it will come back again

I wonder why people cry when they're happy
Isn't crying for sadness only?  
I remember when my friend passed
I asked God why it happened
I felt as though we would live forever
until the glass ceiling was shattered
I still do believe life has a purpose
if not, then what's the reason behind it?  

I sometimes pray I pass before he does
I know that's messed up but imagine the sorrow of loss  
I have low tolerance for pain hence why I take aspirin
I didn't understand addiction
until my coffee spilled

Life is a great big mystery
for anyone that lives it
If you're ever feeling alone
remember, we're all in this together
every time somebody tells you no
just get stronger

Honestly, I give advice more than I take
it's probably because I think way too far ahead
when I feel lost, I imagine I'm in this place
it's green and sunny, but kind of chilly
but it's cool, I like sweaters

I love you always
-Sincerely, your Inner voice
Conscious or is it Conscience?
Once Upon A Wind Oct 2013
I can make you new, take your hurt, set you free
The worldly pressures no longer burying me
My broken heart for all to see
My unlocked soul to absorb all misery
Give me your hand, let me turn you free
I can save you, redeem you since they crucified me
Stack your griefs at the hill of sacrificial victory
I am with you forever, so breathe easy you'll see
Trust me, I love you, just come follow me
Signed, sincerely your savior †o be
V Feb 2018
Dear you in the mirror,
I don't understand;
Why?

Sincerely,
Myself on the other side.
Struggles with BDD
brandon nagley Oct 2015
Dear Mrs. Nagley

Oh my dearest mother-in-law,
Did Brandon my king write you?
I am in my utmost state of agitation,
I don’t know what to do, I’m going “non compos mentis”.


Did he left a letter for me before he go?
He said he’ll be in my arms for less than a week,
Oh my goodness it’s been more than 2 weeks!
Oh, this throe is burying me alive in my grave.


Mother-in-law, Oh, mother-in-law,
I am in extreme dejection,
Oh where is my soulmate, my king, my all?
Where is he, please tell me where is he.


Please assure me nothing bad happened,
Oh this eyes shed bucket of tears,
They’re swollen and I am so weary,
Please mother-in-law, tell me what’s going on.

Sincerely your daughter-in-law
Earl Jane Nagley
September 27th, 1876



(Mrs. Nagley's response letter)

Dearest daughter in law Jane........

He left over two week's ago, didst he not correspond?
Mineself either hath no way to knoweth;
I'm worried mineself, me and his father,
We hast not heard one word from ourn son, dearest daughter.

Do not fret Jane, maby mine son's cruise ship is late
If he doth get there, telleth him to write his mum;
I'm crying now from this stress, there art no word's to calm,
Me and his father heard a storm was coming in, I'm anxious.

We need to hath faith mine son wilt maketh it.
Maby the captain's running late, maby the ocean's shaking;
Mine baby is strong, as I prayest he mayest hold on to the thunderous lightning that's hitting the dawn, I want mine son.

Im on mine knee's now, begging God to bringeth him to thee
If he dost not maketh it to thee Jane, mine daughter and sweet;
I wouldst not knoweth what to do without thy king, mine son!
I'm beseeching Yahweh's mercy, mayest god protect his ship run.

Your Mother in law, Juna Nagley............
October 9th, 1876


ONE WEEK LATER MRS. NAGLEY WRITES ONE LAST LETTER TO HER DAUGHTER IN LAW JANE NAGLEY ON THE NEWS OF BRANDON........


Dearest daughter in law Jane.........

Me and mine husband hath received news on mine son, and thine king, I'm heartbroken to telleth thee, but the ship succumbed to the storm's ferocious sting; I prayed and begged to god, yet mine son no longer couldst cling, he passed at twenty-seven. The front half of the vessel broke into many pieces, the lightning struck the sail as tis all the men were flung west and east: Mine baby found some wood to grasp onto, though shark's were around, as ******* they made there move. He was taken by the man-eater's and sunk into the deep blue. O' how saddened I am, O' how I miss mine son, this ****'s mine soul and break's me in ways more than one...... Here is the letter mine son left when they found him floating by the blood of his vest.
Sincerely mom ...
October 16, 1876

( Brandon's letter to his wife Jane Nagley)

Dear amour', I canst not write thee much, mine limbs art bleeding out from the shark bites and cuts. Mine ship went down, as tis this is God's will, please if thou shalt get this letter please knoweth thou art mine queen, mine body shalt be renewed in the presence of the Lord's feet; thou art not losing me, remember? No goodbye's, if I'm to goeth now and if I'm to die, smileth for me lass, drieth thine eye's; I'll meeteth thee in the third celestial, i'll meet thee there.... By the pearly gate's. On cloud nine.

Thy king and soulmate, always and forever

Brandon Cory nagley........
September 23rd, 1876........




©Brandon nagley \Earl Jane Nagley duo
©Lonesome poets poetry
©Hari-reyna incorporated
This is a duo me and mine queen Earl Jane Nagley wrote together.... Its a poem about me going off on a ship to go to the Philippines to see Jane..! And Jane writes mine mother because she's worried because mine ship didint make it to her... So Jane writes mine mother ( Jane's part is her writing mine mother) mine part is me playing mine mother.. And I also play part of me writing mine last letter to Jane while dying holding onto piece of wood. Kind of like titanic in a way,.. Enjoy,,,
May E V Watson Feb 2014
I don't know who I am anymore,
Even though I know where I’ve been.

You’re always happy, always smiling,
always the life of the party.
   But when no one’s looking,when no one’s around,
you let the sadness seep through you, out and abound.
Standing in the darkness, I see you there.
Abandoned yet surrounded, with no one left to care.

To them you are brave, strongest of them all.
But to me you, as I see you standing there.
   You are alone in the crowd, to them always faire.
  You do not stick out because you are brave...
    You stand out because you are lost.
Lost in the woods, the only difference is I like it this way.

If you let me, I could help you... I could lead you out.
You are already on the path,
          tripping, stumbling, and crashing along.
But I am here, I have always been right here beside you.
Using these blood-stained white roses,
      and their thorns, to steer you right.
   The worst is yet to come, but for me to truly help you,
To lead you to the light.
You must open your eyes, and see me first.

I know you wonder, as this story is told,
  If you have sold, your soul,
   and given yourself away to easily,
      to be lead out into the Light.
But you already know the answer, you have always known who I am,
   Have always felt a shadow here.
Open your eyes and let me in.

Sincerely,
the Real you.
i know its not really a poem, but i still wanted to share it, and get some of my older works out there.
1»When a woman love you, she will do anything possible to be with you.
2»When a woman loves you, she will sacrifice her happiness to make you smile.
3»When a woman loves you, she will not delay accepting you as a lover, when she haz accepted you,she will show you care and give you attention needed in relationship or marriage.
4»When a woman loves you bro, she will do things that make your friends and you thinks she is throwing herself on you. Bro! She truly lovez you so much, don't take her love for granted.
5»When a woman loves a man, she will call the guy on phone more than the guy calls her everyday.
6»When a woman truly loves a man, she will visit you all the time, calls you, helps you,care and give you attention more than she gives herself and family.
7»When a woman loves a man, she will do what she vows not to do in this life. She will do it for you and for love but women always end up regretting for doing undo things because many men are deceivers and pretenders.
8»When a woman truly loves a man, she will turn down serious men ready to marry her whereby she is not even sure if the guy will marry her in the future. funny_people.
9»When a woman truly loves you, she gonna be romantic, care for you, respect you, encourage and support your dreams in this life, she will do anything possible to assist you achieve it.
10» When a woman truly loves you, she will surely want the best for you, she will not cheat on you or hurt you, she will let everybody know that she loves you, she will be proud of you bro , she will not find it hard to forgive your imperfection but not when you cheated, she will love you sincerely and ready to die because of your love, BRO when she truly loves you,she want nothing but marriage.
Ryan Bowdish Oct 2010
In my room with a crack in the curtain
Hands glowing blue, I ask if you're certain
When the veins of the water enter my lungs
You leave me speechless with my neck well-hung
From the bakery, you bleed into me and
The painting on the wall of the ribs I wished to draw
Floating shamelessly by us as your *******
Become my chest cavity, obsessed pleasantly with your smell

And if today is the day you say you love me
You'll disappear into the hills forever
Your metacarpals smell of rosemary and honey
Sincerely breathed the throat until Spanish September!

Your eyes are penetrating, your torso radiating
Bed creaking and complaining by the weight of our backs
And the cracks in my voice give me no choice
But to ask you to sweat out all your noise!
Sometimes I wish you still spoke Deutsch
So we could get under the shower without getting moist
What do you think of when I swallow your thighs?
What do you see when I look into your eyes?

And if today is the day you say you love me
You'll disappear into the hills forever
Your metacarpals smell of rosemary and honey
Sincerely breathed the throat until Spanish September!

You are an unpronounceable vandalized symbol on the
Walls of the empty bathroom stall that is my bone marrow
Elements out the window to remove limitations
So the space between our lips is sub-atomically narrow.
When I wake in the morning to lavender conditioned locks
There are no movements, there are no clocks
And when I open my eyes and clear my throat twice
You roll over to soak your hands up into my sides

And if today is the day you say you love me
You'll disappear into the hills forever
Your metacarpals smell of rosemary and honey
Sincerely breathed the throat until Spanish September!

You are the destination to my mind's only track
And I'll always remember you even if you never love me back.
She may be mine no more, but her inspiration created a fantastic amount of art. May she always be my close, old friend.

These words, once for her, belong to someone else, now. But they will always remain hers in terms of inspiration.
Alice Baker Dec 2016
I knock on the door, shaking.
They answer, tell me to come in.
"I am not my self" I say.
"That's okay" they say.
I hesitate, brace for impact.
"Its okay" they say.
I stumble, asking for forgiveness.
"For what?" they say.
"For everything"

The past four years have been a triumph of self loathing, of learning to apologize while regretting saying sorry.  I have felt I am not even a person without a bottle or a pill. I do not know where my story began, and where I wish it ended. But I am slowly learning to be okay, to accept myself, I think that is why it has taken me such a long time to write.

The thing is, I don't know who I am, I have been a couple different souls: some are weak, some are strong, some are as passive as ocean sand.

I'm 22, female, and lost.  

I have contemplated death many times, I've attempted it even more.  If you are still reading I applaud you.  Bless your soul.

Sincerely,
Still alive
Cynthia Apr 2014
I can feel the breeze touching my face
Falling down on my toes,
as I stand outside the door
Waiting for you to let me in,
So I can share with you all our goals and dreams
As I stand here
I yearned to tell you everything can be done
Only if you believe
Will you let me in?

Sincerely,
Determination


Copyright© Cynthia Ulloa
All rights reserved.
Francie Lynch Dec 2016
Dear John:*
Do you?
     *I do.
     I did.
     I'm done.
     Overdone.
     Undone. Metaphysically strained.
     And I need a thermometer to check my rarity.
     I'm developing a crispness
     And drying out, in want of basting.
     I'm done, John.

Sincerely,
Mary Donne
John Donne: 17th century metaphysical poet. Mary, his wife. They're both undonne.
Samir Sep 2012
seductive effective cutlass sadistic
serendipity and la la la
licorice liquor lick her and plastic
roses rise relentless resentment
time mime rhyme desire
sentiment sincerely aspire admire
anonymous synonymous simultaneous symmetry
molasses disastrous syntactic mirrorly
Samir sincere severe severe
la la la love na na na never
samirly this way
suicide sinister cynical silence
stop and stare
care and share
love with or without violence
sloppy seconds menace a menace
minus a life structure dependence
relevance relevance irrelevance
sense tense and meaninglessness
sincerely samirly
synthetic systemic sense
cents cents
sense sense
cents
Mitchell Dec 2012
She stood up against the wooden bar lit by a stale football field that shined florescent green and highlighted polyester blue like a muse of Van Gogh or Galileo. Her hair ran down the nape of her neck like a ****** waterfall and the light of the bar highlighted her sphinx like eyes as she turned and caught his eye. He stood at a small table away from the main bar with a couple of friends who were telling stories of their old college days and he, half-listening, quickly looked away, faking to scratch his eye, for he knew he had been caught looking at the back of her and she, with her women's intuition of being observed and knowing this, kept looking and he knowing the only way not to show he had been caught was to look away quickly and very obviously; like a bad actor caught dumb and silent, clueless of their next line. They blushed and shared the heat of embarrassment in their cheeks with the sounds of worn dollar bills slapping hard against the smooth wood of the bar, the bar man eyeing it angrily as cigarette smoke surrounded them and slowly drifted up like a lost soul toward the ceiling and the piano man, eyes tight shut played for everyone there when no-one cared to listen, all underneath the dim light of the bar as they strained to look away from one another, trying to find something they could put their focus upon, but, at the same time, wanting very much to look back and have their eyes meet by mistake all over again.

He focused on the design of the bathroom placards that were in the right corner of the tiny bar where you had to turn sideways and touch shoulder's with every soul inside just to get a drink. He feigned interest in the bronze design of the men's bathroom: a tiny boy looking down at his pecker as he ****** a 1/2 inch thick stream into what the man gathered to be a sunflower ***. The boy was thrusting his hips forward, both of his hands on his side, and he showed no smile, no grin of satisfaction or victory, just a stark, blank face, as if he were thinking "I am peeing in this ***. That is all." The women's bathroom sign was of a young girl with the same kind of *** the boy had been ******* in, but it was missing the sunflower and was replaced by the *** of the girl. She stared up into the sky and into the ceiling lights and was dramatically reaching for a butterfly or bird - he couldn't make out which - something with wings and made him think of a basic metaphor that this poor little girl just wants to get off the *** and be free like the birds and butterflies and clouds in the wide blue sky.

She focused on the man's shoes. She looked at the black shine and the pristine black shoe laces, all looking like everything had just been purchased that day. "There is not a single scuff on them and the way this man cuffs his pants only a single turn," she thought to herself, "Tells me he has something of a style on him". Not so run of the mill. Something special. Something of interest.* But then, she was annoyed by the cuff of the pants because she remembered that was what all the schoolboys in her prep school would do when the day was rainy or the boys rode their bikes home from school or they were nerds. The memory immediately turned her off of the man all together, but luckily, she put her gaze back on the jet-black, seemingly un-touched leather that told her success, class, and security.

The man heard a loud Cheer's!" from his table, abruptly bringing him out of his distraction. He was forced to turn and as he did, he made sure not to look up. He kept his eyes on the table and looked for the half-full beer with the worn Budweiser coaster underneath it. He could see from the his top periphery that she was still facing him but she was looking down at something toward the floor. He fumbled with his large hands for his glass and panned his eyes up slightly. The woman, seeing the movement at the table, looked up. She stared back to where she had first caught him looking at her and waited. The man felt her looking at him and in the same instant, saw the faded Budweiser coaster and reached for his beer. He picked the glass up and as the second Cheer! was yelled, he clashed his glass against all the others, all the while keeping his head not toward his friend's faces, but turned in the direction of the bar toward the girl. He smiled at her as he lowered his glass, not taking a drink. His friend slapped him on the back and told him," You gotta' drink after the cheers or its bad luck," and so he did, still staring dumbly at her as he did. She nodded at him with a self-conscious and embarrassed grin, raised her nearly gone low-ball glass of gin and tonic and tipped it toward him and turned around to face the bar.

"I"ll stand here and wait for him to come up to me," she thought, "And if he doesn't the man is a coward and a louse and not worth my time. I have looked twice now and there is some rule in some magazine that I read somewhere, that if you look twice at a man that it is sign, not a coincidence. No, it has a purpose and though I barely know what reason I want this man to look at me other then to get a drink out of him and maybe some conversation, I am certain I have looked twice, maybe even three times. Yes. I have looked at him and I have made my interest known and now I must wait for him to either come or stay with his drunken friends. They look like frat boys cheering like that. They look like drunken, silly frat boys that wouldn't know the first thing about chivalry. Hell, they probably couldn't even spell the ****** word." She laughed under her breath and smiled maliciously to herself and caught her own reflection in the mirror and, for an moment, wanted to quickly look away. Her face did not frighten her, for she was a beautiful woman, not her skin, which was milky white with the faintest and gentlest dash of rouge on each cheek, nor her chocolate colored curls that bounded like boulder's down a hillside. She turned away from a look upon her eye she had not seen or had recognized in a very long time. Her eyes were frightened.

"Frightened?" she wondered.

The man put his beer glass on the table on top of the coaster. The foam rested at the bottom of the cup like the thin layer of ice that blows over a frozen lake, barely there at all passing with the wind. He stared at her back and liked how she leaned on her right hip and put the toe of her left high-heel to the ground, rocking the nose of the shoe back and forth like she was thinking about something playfully frivolous. Behind him, the noise of his friends became a hollow echo, drowned out by the draw of this woman. She swung her left heel back and forth like a pendulum trying to hypnotize him. Someone touched his shoulder but he shrugged the hand away as in this echo chamber he could only hear the music change tracks on the juke box. The song had changed to an old Ottis Redding song and there was nothing else in the world that he wanted to listen to in that moment. As he watched her, leaning into the bar seemingly all alone, no boyfriend or girlfriend in sight, he saw her raise her glass to the barman and knew she had something by the gentle nod of the back of her head. He then saw her point with her left finger and tap the rim of the glass. Her drink was empty. She wanted another drink. He would buy her another drink.

"There is nothing in this world that a man is more responsible for than getting a woman like this a drink," he nodded, thinking to himself and trying to pick up his courage,"One that plays with my heart like a kitten would a spool of yarn, and yet also like a vulture who would peck out the eyes of a dead man in the desert. This is nothing more then that obligation. A rule passed down from man to man, from age to age, where chivalry was not for the base reason to lay with the woman, but to honor them, praise them lightly as the rain from a heavy mist and show them to the pedestal every woman, whether they wish to admit it or not, do wish for, sincerely do at least once in there life." He readjusted his belt and realigned his shirt that had gotten crooked after the celebratory cheer and thought some more,"I'm not going to do that here, this pedestal stuff. This is more like a step toward that pedestal. Yes. A step toward the shrine she wants to trust she deserves and will one day end up on. And this shrine is all cast and painted in the blurry french film noir of dream, is it not? Aren't dreams the only thing we hope to one day come true? How often - when and if they do come true - they can sometimes disappoint and eventually turn sour like a bad orange. I hope she is drinking and that wasn't just a tonic water. If this woman doesn't drink I don't think any of this will be worth anything at all."

She stood there serene and angelic, the hand that held her drink now resting on the base of the bar. Behind the man, he heard the chatter of his friends and the drone of football scores and player updates coming from the ten or more televisions that hung from the ceiling. Someone reached out to touch his shoulder but missed him as he left the table. His name then echoed behind him but soon the sound evaporated as dew does that rests on blades of grass in a summer morning to a summer afternoon. There was only her and her smell that had drifted to his table and shrouded him with the scent of white chocolate and smoke and her delicate, porcelain hand that had held up the drink shyly but not weakly, in passing demand without that demanding quality drunk people can get like at bars sometimes. He approached her, hovered behind her, but she did not turn, and then came up to the bar to lean into. He did not turn to look at her, though he wanted to very badly, but looked down at her low-ball glass with two half-melted ice cubes and a used lime. The smell of gin came from the glass and the man smiled to himself and put his hand up to signal the bartender.

"If this man orders his drink first and walks back to that table with all of his drunken friends, I am giving up men all together," the woman thought to herself," * Tonight and forever! If he can put his hand up and not even turn to look at me, as I was doing, I thought, to be very flirtatious but gentle, then I see no reason at all to keep going with men. They are barbarians that only want to eat, drink, sleep, and fornicate with women that are easy and provide no real challenge at all in their life. If he wants it easy, he can have it as easy as he wants, but not with me. No sir. Not with me ever. Not with me for a night, an hour, a minute, or even a second."

The bartender, a stout slightly overweight man that was a little over forty with streaks of grey in his thin, short-cut hair, looking very much like he should be home reading with a nice cup of tea by his side rather than in the bar serving drinks to stranger's, approached the man and asked him what he would like.

"Two gin and tonics please," the man said, "With a slice of lime and four ice-cubes in each."

"And what kind of gin, sir?"

The man turned to the woman, "What label do you drink?" he asked.

"Pardon me?" she stuttered startled, her eyebrows raised.

"Your drinking gin, aren't you?" He nodded his head toward the woman's empty glass. The tiny lines of transparent lime skin floated on top of the water that had gathered from the melting ice-cubes.

"Yes, I am. I was just about to order."

"I'll get this round and you'll get the next one."

"Any gin is fine."

The man turned to the bartender," Tanqueray, please bartender."

He nodded and went to make the drinks.

"Your very perceptive," the woman said as she turned to face him.

"I try."

"I saw you from across the bar, but was afraid to walk up to your table for fear of getting ambushed by all of your friends. Those are your friends, right?"

"Yes," he nodded as he looked over his shoulder at them, "Old college friends all with old stories of college that, truthfully, bring me little or no joy to even hear."

"Then why come at all?" she asked, "You seem smart enough to know that if you meet up with old anything, you'll be hearing about the old times all night."

"I was forced to come."

"Someone getting divorced?"

"No," he laughed, "The opposite. Married."

"Well, I hope it's not you or this would look very bad if your fiance walked in."

"And why's that?"

She clicked her tongue and turned to look at the shelves stocked with every kind of liquor. The bottles reflected the soft orange glow of the lights that circled the bar and the colors of the television screens. The man continued to look at the woman who had turned her back on him and caught their reflection in a bottle of Jack Daniel's. He waited for a response, but she stood there silent, knowing she was playing with him. Behind him, his friends were growing louder and a tray of shots had found its way to their table. The waitress who had brought the drinks, polite and with a smile, asked them to try and keep it down. They shouted "YES'S and screamed "YEAH'S" with moronic smiles on their faces, their heads nodding up and down like a dog playing fetch. The waitress giggled a thank and walked away shaking her head with disgust when she was out of sight.

"Well," she said,"You did just order two gin and tonics and I think if your fiance walked in with you chatting with me with the same drink in both of our hands, I think she would be a little upset. I know I would be."

"Perhaps we could act like we are old grammar school friends and just happened to run into one another?"

"Well, that would be a lie."

"Yes, that would be a lie."

"Which would mean we were hiding something from said wife."

"And what would that be?"

"That you approached me after I looked at you, perhaps the look from me wasn't flirtatious, maybe I thought you looked familiar, like I had seen you somewhere, and you came up to me and ordered me a drink and started a conversation with me, much like we are doing right now."

"What's wrong with conversation?" The bartender approached them and placed the two drinks in front of the man. The man took out his wallet without losing his gaze on the woman, took out a twenty and slid it toward the bartender. The bartender took the twenty, paused for a moment to see if the man wanted any change, but left when he saw he didn't want any by not moving.

"Conversation can lead to very dangerous things," the woman said playfully and wise.

"Your here by yourself and your not stupid; someone is going to come up to talk to you."

"And your that somebody?"

"I'm sure I'm not the first one tonight."

"Your sweet."

"I try," he said as he slid the drink over to here,"Your drink."

"What should we drink too?" She asked and raised her glass, the light above them reflecting in the ice-cubes and thick glass of the high-ball.

"Conversation," he said proudly and with a smile, "And the danger that it brings."

They clinked their glasses together, their eyes never leaving one another, and they both took a long drink.

"I'm not here with anybody and I'm not expecting anybody tonight either," the woman said.

"What's your name?"

"Why?"

"I want to be able to tell my friends I met a very interesting woman, but they won't believe me if I don't give them a name."

"I'm standing right here, silly. Go and tell them you met the most interesting woman in your entire life, look over at me when they ask you what my name is, then point over to me and I'll wave."

"You'll be here?"

"I'll be here."

"Promise?"

"Go, go, go," she repeated, pushing him back toward his table, "You bought me a drink, didn't you? The least I can do is wave to your drunken college friends."

The man walked back to his table, glancing quickly over his shoulder, trying to hide it, before he reached the table. He arrived to all of them drunk, beer spilt on the table and an ashtray full of punched out cigarettes and ground up cigars. Every one of them were rocking back and forth with each other, their arms sloppily hung around their neighbor's shoulders, their eyes blood shot with their mouth half-cracked open barely breathing in the smoky, beer smelling air. The man struggled to wedge his way into the circle, and when he did, he tried to get the groups attention by screaming an
Marina Salamanca Jul 2012
You parents say that the world will always have something for you
Truth is you have to work for those somethings
Your family says they love you no matter what
Truth is you make one mistake and they haunt you with that for the rest of your life
Your friends say you look cute in that outfit and your hair looks great
Truth is your outfit look weird on you and your hair needs to be fixed
Your mind says you look fat and your the ugliest person ever
Truth is your not fat and your the most beautiful person on the face of the earth
Keep going strong my love
You are wonderful and if anyone was to see different then they have something against themselves
Keep your head up and keep looking forward
Life is how you think of yourself and how you make it
So think positive and make it worthwhile
Sincerely, truth
Vodkowski Dec 2013
Dear Racism,

You, that exist but should never have been.
Your children, Hatred and Division have grown up among us.
Rooted themselves wherever they pleased.
You have caused enough pain.
You will be silenced.

Today we took the 1st step, as ONE Nation.
Today we remembered. Today we said thank you.
My heart is heavy, yet calm.
Walking among my fellow brothers and sisters,
I sensed the same in them.
We have been changed.
Liberated.

Ubuntu.

Freedom is ours for the taking.
The long walk has been walked for us.
We need to be as strong now.
We need to carry on the work.
Our leaders need to lead,
by following the dreams of the people,
Our leaders need to put themselves last,
and the people they serve, first.

Let it not be in vain.
For then I fear, we are all lost.

Dear Racism,

Goodbye. And good riddance.

Sincerely,
The Nation of UBUNTU.
Brianna Heins Jun 2012
Dear Brianna Evelyn Heins,

Stop Spanx sitting me, I’m old enough to take shape of my own.

Sincerely,
You’re Hips

P.S.

Stop convincing the lips to call me flab-u-lous!
I have my own name.
Stop knocking the knuckles to bone
To hear that hollow hound sound, now don’t use me in your measurement references, I want to live a day
Without spinning round the bouncy bands of your operation game
I’ve seen tweezers fall out of your eyes, to plummet under my moon shone complexion
Please keep in mind the brain is a liar.
And well, I have no twins; your pessimistic ways don’t acknowledge my individuality
The color of shame is not moving, while your red majestic
beast hair torturously tickles my clear space of face.

Brianna,
The brain is a liar!
I know you are told you’re observant;
The deception is grand
Stop pretending you know me
Let me dance dizzy
with the calves
Like coming out of the closet
I’m showing you I’ll never be straight
but brains whisper “weep, weep, weepweepweep”
at the sight of the salt soaked, taffy stretched skin
the brain sends me signals, but I beg for the heart to seep in

Please listen up
rarely do I talk,
for you think words are merely a sound
but the profoundness hasn’t shaken
I know you must feel my urges like
I’m on tonight and my hips don’t lie
beauty may lay in the fragile way I sway
said I’m below
But to hell with you
because this bridge can be crossed
but embers fly in you eyes
and the brain is a liar
a family member I wholeheartedly despise.
Terry Jordan Dec 2016
I’m sorry that I’ve cursed you
Judged and criticized
Neglected disrespected you
Your feelings pulverized

I know that I took for granted
Your Beauty and your Grace
And for the times that I ignored
The tears upon your face

Sincerely I am sorry for
My ignorance and greed
I have not known the difference
Between greed, love and need

Masquerading for each other
Unnoticed in between
So many moments of beauty
I let slip past unseen

I’m sorry for the wasted time
I have not understood
My power both to hurt and help
Forgive me if you could

I make sincere apologies
Praying for the fitness
To open that inner vision
With God as my witness

If I’m to hold onto your love
The life I’ve often cursed
Though forgiveness is freely given
I must forgive me first
Reflecting on my life, all the mistakes that I'm letting go of, moving forward in love.
karen dannette Mar 2013
The crackling fire spits sparks into the night sky
The atmosphere is alive with bright hues of burnt sienna
Lighting your sober face with such pure beauty, that sadness cannot thrive.
As the dawn approaches, our love is more real than anything I've known.

Your eyes, blue as the sky with a hint of a storm cloud approaching.
Your smile is genuine and so sincere, I forget every other lover I've known.
Your physique is so perfectly masculine, every part of my body throbs in anticipation of your touch...............

The first taste of the change in your standard behavior
Left a welt upon my cheek and stung like bee with an addiction to hurt.
Your bitterness eats me alive, when the change of personality occurs....
So much so, I feel buried alive within the ground, slowly suffocating by the dirt thrown into my mouth.

Perfect?  I am certainly far from Jesus and believe me, I do sin.
Its difficult to remain unscathed or without retaliation, Ping-Pong, if you will.
Separation from the pain that scars, is self defense against all I know.
Refusal to be open-minded to the chance you are mistaken stunts the lessons we are to learn from each other.

Beating me into the ground with a shovel..  
Echoes of a tormenting, repetitive thud in a rhythmic balance of treble and bass....
Shakes me from my toes, violently shuddering with anger, sometimes fear.
Sorrow aches within my body from somewhere deep within ..

And as the cycle starts again from sweet to sadistic...
Our hearts break a little more and wicked thoughts invade our purity.
As I lay here alone, I truly wonder if we will be able to withstand our cruelty to each other.

No matter what we want in this relationship of stormy seas...
We can't move on in a healthy direction without some kind of compromise.
No matter how much I love and adore you,
I can't be caged like an endangered species, with wings  that have been clipped for my own protection.

The awareness I possess of my own faults and provocative ways, can't seem to filter through
When intoxication and anger are in control of you, you seem to co-exist with a savage who slowly tortures me.
Your words are like demonic zombies running rampant in a kindergarten yard.
My flesh is being ripped apart as the blurs of a million of them scratch and claw as they furiously circle me and isolate their victim.

As I have declared many times before, I am no innocent.
I do not regard your sensitivity to my crazed, moody outbursts.
So spoiled sometimes, that I forget that my tongue can be the fork that eats you alive.
Used to getting everything I desire, before my mind comprehends the damaging violence....
My requests become demands that poison your view of me,  incinerating any growth we have worked for.

My addiction and your affliction divide us into destructive, savage... yet well-trained soldiers.
As we fight over petty subjects that truly don't need the attention we grant them...  
We both lose a battle we don't even realize is going on within ourselves.
Is it really that important to be right, if it means we are always going to be wrong?   For each other?

Now, as my pen has brought me to see what is the true reality without placing blame...
My question to you : Do you love me enough to see this through, while we both change things that hurt and cause catastrophic damage to a blessing we have been gifted with by God?
I know my love for you is stronger than any bitterness within my heart...

The hours that I have been writing this poem, as I wandered the streets aimlessly and without ever finding any peace
......But can you really truly understand that even when you aren't right by my side, my heart belongs to only you?
Can you absorb the words that coincide with my feelings of loving you, unconditionally??
Can we get through this and get to the other side ?  

I can only imagine how strong our bond will be just over the current obstacle put in our path.  
Only together seeking God's guidance and grace, while we both seek support from each other...
Will we be able to see the beautiful rainbow, God's promise given as a sign,
Patiently awaiting  our self-control, discipline and purity of heart to learn the lessons we must learn and incorporate into our lives.

Forgiveness is key, for I know the blame game is too often, played.
I'm not willing to give up.....
            I've felt the bond between us and I know how rare it is.
We can learn so much if we don't let outside influences win and say goodbye.

I'm tired of running in circles,
Aren't you tired of sleeping in your clothes?
Can we muster the strength to truly begin anew without fear of anger and loss?
Or does it matter to you what the peace and love will have conquered or will you only think of what it has cost?
I know that it seems like you have put up with a lot, but what could be the gifts that wait for us? ... If only we could be open-minded and patient, maybe we could learn from each other and truly be happy.  Thank you, Joey, for everything you are and all the lessons that await us both.
Remembering June Sep 2015
A poem about ****** abuse.
I don’t know how to write
this poem yet.
But when I do,
You’ll be the first I tell.

Sincerely,
It was hell.
Just Melz Nov 2014
Why you lie?

Why you say there's three servings,

When everyone knows, it's only one?

Rude, Haagen Dazs.

Just Rude.


Sincerely,
Lonely, Sad Girl.
Crying into a container of Chocolate Peanut Butter ice cream.
Ayad Gharbawi Dec 2009
THE STORY OF SARA

Ayad Gharbawi


CHAPTER 2: UNIVERSITY

  
  Well, I did study and, I did pass my exams, and I did succeed in ending up in a decent, upper class school!
  How did I pay for it? I hear you ask me?
  I didn't: I got a scholarship!
  And, what a new world I faced!
  What a totally different society I saw!
  I felt that I was in another country, for I never knew that there existed, from my own people, men and women such as those I encountered!
  My studies in psychiatry really excited me: I thought that I would be able to 'solve' anyone's mental problems.
  All I had to do, was to study and study as feverishly as I could.
Studying furiously, and with love and passion, was the key to success.
  Study, and then you pass your examinations, and then you become a doctor in psychiatry - and I would thereby become successful.
  I would then be someone important.
  I would be respected by everyone.
  My life would have a purpose and a meaning because I would be going in the correct path.
It was simple as that!
  And what was the alternative?
  Not to study?
  And what would I do then?
  Go do a menial, low paying job?
  That was anathema to me!
  It made me sick, to even think about that!
  Why?
  Because, I came from a poor background, and I lived in poverty, and I saw the culture and the people who lived in poverty, and by God, I don’t want to ever live in those circumstances ever again in my life.
  What was poverty to me?
  Your house is ugly; your neighbourhood is ugly; your neighbours are the most indecent people you can imagine.
  The area you live in, swarms with people who live their lives in ‘anti-social behaviour’!
  And what’s ‘anti-social behaviour’?
  That means your community is one, where most people are drunks in  public, where fights, with guns and knives, are an everyday occurrence; where the most filthy language is the norm in public; where ******* covers large parts of the town; where vandalism and damage to cars and property is another daily occurrence; where people play ear-deafening music in the streets and there’s nothing you can do – because, if you call the police, they’ll obey, but then they’ll come back and make hell out of your life – in other words, the gangs rule the community.
  Aren’t those enough reasons to get out of poverty?!
  And, then for me, there are other things that are really important to me.
  For example:
  I mean, who is going to respect you, if you have a menial job? Who is going to look up at you?
  Who is going to listen to your words, when you speak?
  And, most importantly, are you yourself going to be happy with your self and with your life, if you had a menial job?
  Of course not!
  To be a fully satisfied human, you need to live in respectable surroundings with a respectable job.
  Otherwise, there cannot be happiness for you.

  Once I joined my university, I encountered mostly upper class students.
  That’s why, I say it was like ‘another world’ for me, because I had never encountered people like that before!
  Their dress was different; their accent and they way they spoke was different; but what interested me the most, was the fact, that their intellectual interests were extremely varied, as opposed to the people that I had grown up with and knew – those people whose only interests, were getting drunk, practicing promiscuity, crime and drugs!
  Now outside classes, I got began to get involved with different groups of academic students – each group held differing ideas about the world, politics, economics, philosophy of life - and any other subject you can imagine.
  I was never interested in what I called the other 'superficial' groups; that is, those who discussed what I considered to be the stupidities of life, such as fashion, make up, cars, sports and so on. No way; not for me, were people like that!
  For I was far too serious for such mind-wasting people, and, frankly life-wasting people.
  No, I wanted to learn; my God how utterly hungry and thirsty and deadly serious about acquiring more and more knowledge on every 'serious' subject I was - so that, one day, I would be a useful and productive human to society!
  If I was not in my classes, and if I was not listening to those intellectuals, I would sit on any desk and search the internet and read endlessly, on any and every 'serious' subject.

With respect to my classes, as the months rolled over, I began to feel, and think, that my professors were not all that smart at all. I began to feel that they were, in fact, quite ordinary, dull people. But then, I grappled with next obvious question: if they were 'ordinary' and 'dull' people, then how come they were professors – and by 'professors', I mean that they must be far from 'ordinary'? Surely, any person, who is able to be a professor, must be intelligent?
  And yet, the more I listened and took down notes from these professors, and the more I analyzed their words and ideas, the more I became convinced at their emptiness and stupidity!
  My God, you must believe me, for they were talking utter *******!
  Well, who exactly, 'made' them professors?
  I began to dislike them.
  Then, the obvious consequences took place in my mind: the more I disliked them, the less I paid attention to their words and that, in turn, increased my boredom in class!
  No, this was a complete and utter waste of time for me. Yes, I would still need to read the text books given to us by the university, and I would need to understand these books in order to pass the examinations.
  But, I was also determined to do my own independent psychiatry studies, in order to find the ways and means of solving people's emotional problems.

I found it really thrilling to see so many students having so many ideas about the world, because, for me it was so utterly unusual to see young people actually caring about so many issues in our lives!
  You had the conservatives; socialists; Dadaists, existentialists, communists of every shade you can imagine; fascists, socialists, liberals, Nazis, monarchists, Hare Krishnas, Hindus, Budhists, yoga-followers, animal rights campaigners, environmentalists, religious fundamentalists, anarchists  - the list was quite endless to the point of absurdity for, within each group, there were sub-groups, that ranged from the so-called 'left' to the so-called 'right'.
  However, in all this confusion and chaos, there were, at least two things, that you knew for certain: and that was, firstly; that no group agreed with any other group, whilst secondly; every 'leader' of any group sincerely and passionately believed that, yes they, and only they, had all the answers to all the questions that faced our dear Humanity!

But with time, it dawned on me that that most of these intellectual students were not quite what I expected of them.
They would passionately discuss any subject and in excruciating detail!
  To me not every subject was worthy of being discussed!
  Everything was criticized in university.
  Everything was questionable.
  Nothing was certain.
  On the opposite these students believed that they had a duty to deeply philosophise and intricately analyse and scrutinize from every angle every subject and issue in our planet!
  Nothing was accepted and nothing was taken for granted.
  And it was exhausting to listen to them!
  I say ‘exhausting’ because after every meeting, I would actually feel emptier!
  I simply did not learn or gain anything from all these endless discussions!
  So they would analyse issues like: what is the soul?
  What is the difference between the soul and the spirit?
  Where is the soul located?
  Where is the mind located?
  What is the difference between bravery and foolishness?
  Are mathematical facts like 1+1=2 discovered or created by mathematicians?
  What does the word ‘the’ mean?
  What does the word ‘a’ mean?
  Who has a right to create rules and laws?
  How much taxes should each adult pay?
  Is the universe finite or infinite?

  And so it went on and on until your brain became numb with the deafening boredom and pointlessness of it all.
  What irritated me the most was that with these groups of students, was that nothing was sacred.
  Nothing was certain.
On the opposite, everything was completely uncertain.


  As for myself, I gradually gravitated to the leftists – that mixture of socialists, communists, anarchists and other such-like groups.
  Why?
  Because to me their philosophy was more or less simple.
  There wasn’t all that endless series of critiques and analysis that so nearly damaged my brains!
  Their idea was simple: we had to removed the oppressors.
And the oppressors was anyone who had power and influence.
  And what kind of society did we want?
  A purely egalitarian one where there would be neither master nor slave.
  Simple!
  Here I found that much needed sense of certainty!
  Here was an ideal, a philosophy that had strict rules that we were meant to follow in order to achieve our sacred aims!
  

  I was immediately attracted to one student leader, Tony, who passionately urged his listeners to use any means necessary – except violence –in order to achieve our goals of total equality within our society.
  He was a tall man of average weight, with short hair – actually, let me immediately stop myself here - because actually there was absolutely and totally nothing remarkable about the way he looked; but what really made him so attractive was in his personal charm, and the way he spoke, with such a theatrical ability, that made you unable to move as long as he talked.
  I can still see him, as he gracefully gesticulated in such an animated manner, giving further power and reason, to every word and idea he uttered:
  "Can't you see and feel what is going all around you? My friends, listen to my words, because we are living in a society that is dominated by greed and ultimately misery and death on an everyday scale. Why is the dustman paid any less than a doctor? Aren't we all human beings, born free and equal? And, so, if you, my friends, agree with me that all men, women and children, are equal, then it should make obvious sense to you that we should all live equally. Do you feel what I am saying to your hearts, or not?!" he would thunder at us, with his face contorting from the passion, and with his ability to be so majestic and, yet, so utterly humble at the same moment!
  Yes, I began to think more and more about what Tony had to say.    Why was there poverty in the first place?
  Where was Humanity?


  Indeed, aren't we all equal human beings; so why this discrimination? It seemed so sensible to me; and yet, what was I, Sara the Nobody, doing about this problem?
  Nothing, of course.
  Yes, I was just a student – but I was not actively working against the dark forces, as Tony was always talking about.
  Tony would mesmerize his listeners, which were usually held in the evenings, at around eight o'clock.
  He always managed to talk to you directly – or so it felt, despite the large number of listeners.
  "There are people who make millions in minutes – did you people know that?  While most people in our society struggle and sweat not only tears, but, I tell you, they sweat blood – yes blood" he would scream at this point, "day in and day out, and getting paid next to nothing, you also have a minority who make millions in minutes!   How can you, yes you, tell me that that is fair? Why do you, my listeners, why do you lamely accept, that we live in a society that allows conditions, whereby the majority, and I say the vast majority of human beings, men and women, have to bleed to death just, to pay their never ending bills, while a minority lead an easy life overflowing with money, glamour, power and luxuries that are indescribable? I ask you again and again to answer my questions: is that fair? And if it is not fair, then what should be done about this sick situation? Well, clearly, we must use violence to take our rights, because no democracy will allow our party to succeed in any election and obviously the rich will never voluntarily give up their oceans of wealth; therefore, if you ask me, what is to be done, I firmly tell you as my response, that we must fight for our eternal rights, and by using the verb 'fight', I mean we 'fight' with every weapon at our disposal – be they words or bullets!"
  I was simply exhilarated by his symphony of words!
  And yet, I couldn’t help but feel that there was something ‘missing’ in Tony’s personality.  
  He just didn’t have that supreme self assurance that others had.
  I guess that was what was ‘missing’.
  I couldn’t understand why he did have that degree of insecurity – because, it seemed to be a contradiction when you are living your life for an ideal, and at the same time, you have insecurities within your heart!

  It was also at university, that I first met Sanji.
  He was a tall, dark wavy haired man with a dark complexion.  His beautifully oval eyes had a deeply pensive look, and at the same time, they were always somehow mired within a sorrowful gaze.
  Even when he would talk to you, Sanji's eyes seemed to be far away, deep in thought, about God knows what subject!
  Gracing his eyes, were beautifully arched eyebrows and the longest, thickest eyelashes I have ever seen, that beautifully complimented those seemingly lonely eyebrows in perfect harmony.
  He was a quiet, soft spoken gentleman, who was the most polite and sincere man I had ever met – I would forever ask myself, how can this man, be so gentle and compassionate, and without seeming to get distressed, angry or anxious?!
  He had such a depth of serenity in his personality – and that trait was something that made so utterly envious of him; I was constantly wishing and trying to have a millionth of that serenity of his.
  He was utterly sure of himself – and not in any arrogant way. He was completely happy and secure with the ideas and principles which guided him throughout his life.
  He had a complete knowledge as to what the purpose of his life was. As a result he knew exactly where he was going with his life.
  There was no sense of being lost with Sanji; for he knew the endless, twisted, meandering number of Paths of Life ahead of him - and more importantly he knew which path he wanted to tread on in his life’s journey.
  He would never use foul language; and would always listen to you with interest as you talked – which is rare in our world.
  And he had that most beautiful ability and talent to be so extra careful in choosing his words when he spoke, for he always wanted to get his thoughts and ideas properly across to you, so that people would understand him well, and so that there would be no confusion as to what he stood for.
  That's why he was so pensive and why he spoke so deliberately; there was never any impulsiveness on his part; he intended exactly every word, and exactly every phrase, and every sentence he used; there never was any carelessness on his part when he would interact with you.


  I never met a man who was so wholly and totally considerate for the feeling
What is poetry ?
I am defeated please!
Kindly answer me
Poets give me a definition this is a challenge please please .
Thinking of You Dec 2012
The schedule is set. The schedule cannot be touched. No. No. I do not bluff. Do not mess with my plans do not think you can change them, I have a way of completing them as I had previously arranged them. You will be kind, you will be neat. You will most certainly not drag your feet. Be on time. Leave swiftly when we are done. Remember, this isn't about having fun. You will take a test, choose an answer, A through D. You grades depend on your answers, no, you cannot plea. Because everything here is standard. That's why we call it a standardized test you see. We want to know how average you are. How basic can we make you. How can we take all of your skills, intelligence, capability and capacity and smush it together? A test of course, A through D, the letter you choose will determine what you mean to me. It will define you in the long run and can hurt or help a great deal. So don't buy into all of the nonsense that you are creative. No, we want none of that here, unless it is in the art room, and we're talking about paper and what you can smear. Because here it's all about what you "know" although I don't care if you understand or remember it. I'm just doing what the government thinks is best, they give me all of my money, so I always adhere to it. No, I don't care about you, your relationships, uniqueness, or capacity to change this world. I just care about what letter you bubble in on that test, so go ahead, pick C, so our statistics can go up and the school board will get an "atta girl."
Yenson Aug 2018
When we finish with you
you won't know who you are..........

Hey, Mr and Mrs Salt  of the Earth
of Majority Wins Avenue, Socialist Estate
Wigan and George Orwell Park
Red City London

do you want to hear something
please give me a bit of your time

I know I am not a white thief
I don't go breaking into my neighbour's house
and stealing from them

I know I am not a drunkard
begging borrowing and stealing
so I can get wasted and drunk again

I know i am not a liar or bands of liars
who go around destroying innocents reputation
slandering and vilifying to cover my tracks

I know I am not an envious jealousy ridden inadequate
throwing mud and obnoxious falsehoods to damage
an innocent person good name and character

I know I am not a psychotic sadist degenerate
getting neurotic satisfaction from causing pain
and distress to another

I know I am not a weakling and a lily-livered coward
a back-stabber and a faceless ***** who is an anodyne
bully incapable of face to face confrontation

I know I am not a shriveling gutless wimpy poltroon
hiding in a gang of samenesses  engaging in a shameless
war against one man

I know I am not an uneducated or semi-illiterate half-wit
riddled with ignorance, prejudices, bigotry and ill-thoughts
notion without rational validation

I know I am not a wanton hedonist who is unable to resist
satisfying lust or seeking pleasures regardless of more
pressing responsibilities

I know I am not a two faced hypocrite, a fraudster or cheat
who misappropriated and behaves without conscience or
considerations about others

I know I am not a cheap, small minded, vengeful, hateful
and irrational follower who joins other like-minded fools
in a unjust and unfair actions and deeds

I know I am not a wicked, perverse, heartless, soulless, cold
and pitiless damaged human who acts without measure,
compassion or due consideration

I know I am not a sneaky, conniving, twisted, disingenuous
sadistic, cowardly conspiratorial plotter who acts with others
of same kith to cause hardship, pain, sufferings to another human
unnecessarily

I do know That I believe in hard work and earning a living honestly and when I had the opportunity that was what I did
I did not steal from anyone and then blame my bad choices
on them

I do know that I treated everyone I came into contact with
or related with fairly, on merit, without prejudice, sincerely, honestly and with due respect, except if they are house burgling
drunkard, wastrels, anti-social and Racists neighbours.


So dear Mr  and Mrs Salt of the Earth, friends and Defenders
of Crooks, Burglars and All with nefarious activities, wrong-doers and the Shameless

I do know at least that I am not any of the noted above, if this
thus mean exclusion from your Union and banishment from life,
I accept my sentence..........  

I thank you for reading


P.S.  Please feel free to come and **** what's left of ME!!
ShowYouLove May 2014
Amazing Grace: your gift for all. So amazing your grace that you would die for us sinners on a cross in shame and agony though sinless yourself.

How Sweet the Sound: to hear "your sins are absolved"

That Saved a Wretch Like Me: Compared to your perfection and glory we are truly wretched. All blackened by sin, but because of your death on a cross not by water or blood, but by water and blood we are saved and washed clean and white. The only chance we have of getting into heaven is by your gift of Amazing Grace.

I Once Was Lost: like a sheep who strays from the flock and wanders off

But Now Am Found: I am safe and sound in your arms once again. You rescue me from danger and bring me back safe and sound.

Was Blind: because of sin and my faults, wrapped up in a blanket of hurting and lies.

But Now I See: the magnitude of this gift you give and because of your death, the pure spotless lamb, and the cleansing blood you shed for me and for many that sins might be forgiven.

'Twas Grace That Taught My Heart To Fear: fear you in a deep respect for your power, fear of not having you always there and fear of satan and the cost of sin.

And Grace My Fears Relieved: I used to fear what would happen if I sinned and I still fear as I should always, but I take comfort in the knowledge that when I sincerely repent, do my best to sin no more, and to avoid the things that lead me to sin I will be forgiven.

How Precious Did That Grace Appear: It is by Grace and Grace alone that we are saved and indeed how precious, how special Grace was as it appeared to me

The Hour I First Believed: The hour I came to believe in you Jesus my Savior who shed your blood, died and rose again that I might live!
Et cetera Jul 2014
There is this place
It’s called Palestine
It used to be pretty
And peaceful and lively
The people lived as they do
Everywhere else.

Then there came to be this place
It’s called Israel
Which is basically Palestine
But mercilessly occupied
It attacked Palestine
And took over most of its land.

So now in Palestine
Or what’s left of it
Where there used to be quaint houses
There’s just a lot of rubble
With broken and burnt doors, utensils and limbs
Jutting out from underneath.

Where there used to be bright smiles
That could light up the world
There now are tears,
burn marks and bloodied cuts
That can rend any human heart
Except those that are not human.

It is a war, not between states
Not between races, nor between fates
Nay, this is a bigger war, one of faith
At least, that is how it started
But now, it is between
human and non-human.

Tell me, please
Is it human to **** innocent people
For the sake of self, and the sake of  hate?
Is it human then also, to remain quiet
And watch such tyranny be?
It must also be human, to  point guns at 4 year olds.

And by this definition,
Humans of this world, humans that feel
Are not humans at all, because they care
And those that don’t, well
They’re humans at their prime
The most evolved of them all.

Israel, I salute you, a salute full of mock
At your utter humanity, and benevolence
Your bombs when they land
With the cheers of your people,
And your guns when they point
At 4-year old terrorists; surely they can ****.

Palestine, I stand with you, sincerely
Your children, your people, your land and your peace
Are my children, my people, my land and my peace
Their bombs when they land, make my prayers fiercer
Their guns when they shoot, make my eyes water
But know this, Palestinians, we are one.

So when they shoot you, I bleed
And when they bomb you, I ache
When they hurt you, I feel the pain
And when you cry for help, I pray
We are blood, we are one body
We are the Ummah, we will rise.

Until then we pray, we pray and we try
Dear Palestine, stay strong, stay firm…
Help shall come, in ways unimaginable
Do not weaken, and do not grieve
You will overcome them, if you are true believers

Allah has promised, and His promise he upholds.

~Moniba.
Jack Jun 2022
Cry me a river
I'll paddle to you,
Enough of wasting tears,
Don’t you see that I'm here for you?

Please smile,
Seeing your smile already made my day,
Your giggle is a lullaby to my ears,
like I'm living a dream,
But with you in it,

The word love, frozen in my mouth,
I can only kept it inside,
Can you make my life better?
I can wait,
Maybe a thousand years or more,

Touch my heart,
You'll feel the warmth,
as the last flame of mine,
exist for you,
Let me remain in your heart,
So we can connect as one,
we shall rejoice under brilliant night,
dance with million stars,
where you shine the brightest,
As you always do.
emma jane Oct 2016
Hello Monster,
I don’t know what you look like here.
But I can feel you coming back.
I knew you lived in his hands
Because it hurt
Whenever he put them on my hips
You sharpened my inhales
and they cut my heart on their way
to my lungs.
I knew how you poisoned my name
when they came out of her lips
because it sounded
like someone who looks better
with cut wrists.
she was broken anyway.
I grew to know you quite well.
You let go of my throat
and seemed to hold my hand
We were friends you
and I.
Maybe all it took was
a change of scenery.
My hair grew longer
and so did your claws.
And now I can’t see you until
I’m already bleeding.
I didn’t know how his eyes
on me, would make me
want to be skinny.
Until you were cutting away
all the parts around the edges
that had grown soft since
we stopped fighting.
Bony is beautiful
you whispered.
I didn’t know
you were in her back
until you showed me
how it bends when
it turns away from me.
I didn’t know you were in my knees
that ache now as I chase
and crave someone's lips
on me in the dark.
Because maybe someone will
want me
when they can’t see me.
When they can’t see us.
You’re back inside of me.
I know you are.
And it scares me.
Because I’m starting to see you again.
You look just like me.

Sincerely,
Emma
it's been awhile
BertJane Perez Jan 2015
Dear exams,

      I'm sorry to say, but I've lost all interest in you. I don't see why I didn't
lose interest in you sooner to be completely honest. I use to love learning
new things and cramming useless information into my cranium, but I must
say that forcing myself to study to pass your standards is just not who I am.There's no need to throw a question I cannot answer in my face whenever you're upset. Nor do I have to explain myself to you for that matter. Has anyone told you you ask a lot of questions?

      I must admit that I am not perfect, but neither are you. You are filled
with errors and flaws that I must say are simple mistakes. I will always
remember you, but I don't think my memory of you will be a fond one...
I am grateful for all the support you've given me especially with my
grades, but I will admit that understanding you was difficult. I remember
hopelessly thinking about you all night after seeing you. I felt terrible
because I literally had no idea how to go about answering your fifty
questions. Even though you gave me choices it was still a difficult decision
to make. I went home that night disappointed thinking that I had messed
up my only chance with you.

      But now you're back, but I admit I am definitely not excited about it.
And I will see you again today, which like I said I am not excited about. I
guess that all we can ever be now is acquaintances. A student to exam
relationship that definitely bares no love what so ever. I cannot wait to be
done with you. As they say, there are a million exams in the library...
And they should all be thrown away.

P.S: The paper shredder was looking for you.

                                                                                      Sincerely,
                                                                                        The unhappy student
Camille Smiles Sep 2012
Here comes that Beautiful Boy,
Whose smile out shines the sun.
That Beautiful Boy and his sweet nature
Can be outweighed by none.
With his Beautiful eyes so laid back,
Their very nature brings me home.
That Beautiful Boy and his security
Are like nothing I have ever known.

Oh, Beautiful Boy, do you like me?
Oh, Beautiful Boy, do you lie to me?
Oh, Beautiful Boy, will you please shine on me?

I wonder about your kindness-
Is it truly and sincerely real?
Is there some similarity
In the way we feel?
Beautiful Boy can this really be?
Beautiful Boy are you lying to me?
Beautiful Boy please tell me what you see.
Tell me what it is that attracts you to me.

Oh, Beautiful Boy, do you like me?
Oh, Beautiful Boy, do you lie to me?
Oh, Beautiful Boy, will you please shine on me?

Let the stars gaze upon your beauty, Boy.
Let the birds sing upon your Beautiful joy.
Beautiful Boy, can you please forever smile on me?
Beautiful Boy, can you take you and I and make it we?
Will the Beautiful Boy let the world amaze at his heart
And bask in the richness that sets him apart?
Oh, Beautiful Boy, will you be Beautiful for me?
And show me how Beautiful I can be.
Pearson Bolt Sep 2015
they say you'll never forget
where you were on 9/11
i was nine
i sat in the kitchen
and watched the television
play out the violence hour after hour
my child-like mind conflated the Two Towers
in Tolkien's literary fantasy
with these acts of misanthropy  
and i was taught at the dinner table
that very evening
that all of life could be reduced
to capital letters defining a
cosmic struggle of Good vs. Evil

and yet
regardless of their affiliation
on this defunct
political spectrum of
left left
left right left
politicians canonize a legacy of
injustice and oppression and
in order to suppress
democratic expression
they propagate the notion
that dissent is treason

because the wars we wage are blessed
by the sagely insight of rich old men
who sit safely in mansions protected by
picket fences as white as their skin
while they play off our emotions and
turn us into thoughtless sheep
content to stomach the whims of
politicians propagating vengeance

i will speak this out even
when my voice shakes
because i have seen the hypocrisy
of this war on terror
that relies on terror
to cultivate more terrorists
in order to perpetuate the notion
that Orwell posited

war is peace
freedom is slavery
ignorance is bliss
isn't it

in my naïveté
i rejected the reality of
torture and murdered children for
i nursed a secret hope that
despite the pictures and videos
that served as empirical evidence
we were still somehow
the good guys and
they were the bad guys

but Americans rained white
phosphorous on Fallujah
dropped the world's first
and hopefully last
atom bombs on Hiroshima and Nagasaki
we toppled democratically elected socialists
whose interests betrayed our self-serving agendas
cultivating a policy of extra-judicial assassination
regime change is the name of the game
just ask the CIA
they'd tell you
business is booming but
then they'd have to **** you

so i switched off my TV screen
and picked up books
i read Slaughterhouse-V
and treasured the way Vonnegut
looks at the lives of even
bees and butterflies as valuable
intoning "so it goes"
every time a living thing dies

i read O'Brien's
recollections
of Vietnam
a month later
he said that
like white lies
tall tales and
fishermen’s yarns
every war story
has a bit of truth

and i've seen the proof
in the photographs of
Abu Ghraib and Guantanamo Bay
in the aftermath of drone strikes
that left pieces of kids scattered
across the desert sands of foreign lands

i see the toxic side-effects of
systemic violence in the eyes
of homeless veterans suffering
on the streets with PTSD
a flicker of fear livens a
deadened gaze at the sound of
every backfiring engine
as if they're a thousand miles away
on some distant shore

betrayed by their own
government once again
a Purple Heart is
a death sentence
when there are 22
military suicides a day
thanks for your service
now die in silence

like bad religion the phrase
war crime is rather redundant
and i testify not because i
aim to disrespect the
men and women in uniform
on the contrary

when i say
**** war
it is because i
cherish every brother
and every sister
who has perished in the
churning gears of conflict

they shoved tall tales of hope
for a collegiate education
and far-flung travel
down our throats
just sign here
right along the dotted line

we want you
to march into hellfire
we want you
to send missiles into
tiny huts and villages
tracking cell phone signals
we want you
to sit down
shut up and
just do as you're told

to every fallen human who
has been sent off to fight on
behalf of this
or any other
corrupt nation
i sincerely apologize
for not taking to the streets to protest
a vitriolic ideology

i regret filing my taxes
when 54% or more of our budget goes to
military expenditures so they could
stick an M-16 in your hands
and ship you off to die for abstract
and so often arbitrary phrases like
freedom and justice for all

you were robbed of your liberty
by a capitalist system that seeks profit
like a false prophet for
bank accounts soar in times of war  
and in my apathy i hammered
nails into your coffin

and i pride myself on  
being an anti-militaristic
non-violent anarchist because
i don't hate soldiers
if i did i would remain
silent and apathetic
and let the government
abuse its youth

i celebrate humanity
regardless of ethnicity and creed
which is precisely why i despise
this system that sacrifices
generation after generation for
conquest and imperial notions

pray tell
will we turn from the
error of our ways
wake up from
this terrorist daze
before it's too late
and say

the State can try to
whitewash history but
i refuse to let them
brainwash me
I wrote this poem when a woman walked out of the venue after I read a poem about overthrowing the government. She told me her son was in the military and said he had buddies who died so I could have free speech. I wish she'd stopped so I could've responded to her the way I'd have liked to. Guess this will have to do.
Quin Rosenheart Aug 2018
Baby come to me
With arms open wide
And before you go to sleep
I sincerely bid you goodnight

Sweetdreams my love
Oh yes please sleep tight
For I will protect you
In the darkness of the night

— The End —