"stronghold" poems
Everyday I'm falling deeper
I stalk you like a creeper, creeper
Nothing can keep me away
EnderMen better stay away
I'll travel to the Nether for you
I'd **** the EnderDragon for you
I started with 10 hearts to spare
But now I couldn't really care
The only heart that's really crucial
Is the one I give to you
I've traveled deserts, plains, and seas
Fought cougars, Ghasts, and rotting zombies
I've looted desert temples and villiages
I am nothing but a pillagar
I'll love you until I'm very old
But its as hard to find you as a stronghold
I started with 10 hunger to spare
But now I couldn't really care
If you're hungry, I know what I'd do
I'd give all my food to you
Because I love you (Minecraft)
I really do
Dec 1, 2012
Dec 1, 2012 at 1:20 PM UTC
They are always with us, the thin people
Meager of dimension as the gray people
On a movie-screen. They
Are unreal, we say:
It was only in a movie, it was only
In a war making evil headlines when we
Were small that they famished and
Grew so lean and would not round
Out their stalky limbs again though peace
Plumped the bellies of the mice
Under the meanest table.
It was during the long hunger-battle
They found their talent to persevere
In thinness, to come, later,
Into our bad dreams, their menace
Not guns, not abuses,
But a thin silence.
Wrapped in flea-ridded donkey skins,
Empty of complaint, forever
Drinking vinegar from tin cups: they wore
The insufferable nimbus of the lot-drawn
Scapegoat. But so thin,
So weedy a race could not remain in dreams,
Could not remain outlandish victims
In the contracted country of the head
Any more than the old woman in her mud hut could
Keep from cutting fat meat
Out of the side of the generous moon when it
Set foot nightly in her yard
Until her knife had pared
The moon to a rind of little light.
Now the thin people do not obliterate
Themselves as the dawn
Grayness blues, reddens, and the outline
Of the world comes clear and fills with color.
They persist in the sunlit room: the wallpaper
Frieze of cabbage-roses and cornflowers pales
Under their thin-lipped smiles,
Their withering kingship.
How they prop each other up!
We own no wilderness rich and deep enough
For stronghold against their stiff
Battalions. See, how the tree boles flatten
And lose their good browns
If the thin people simply stand in the forest,
Making the world go thin as a wasp's nest
And grayer; not even moving their bones.
23.6k
Five separate entities
Whose lives seem to intertwine with stunning similarities
A brown thin thorn
As sharp as a knife
That hurt everything its comes into contact with
But seems to beg for forgiveness from its victims
A rose with petals so bright
Shining their color into the world
That screams for attention
Yet seems to hide from plain sight
A long thin stem
As weak as a piece of paper
That somehow holds up the great rose
But seems to strengthen with each wind blow
A bright green fuzzy leaf
Feeble and soft
That cries for attention from the rose
Yet seems to fade into the background
A single flower root
Dark Brown and thin as a piece of string
That reaches into the earth grasping for a stronghold
Yet seems to fail in comparison to the large, strong roots
A yellow and black bumblebee buzzing along
Happy-go-lucky and unaware of the looming storm
That longs to pollenate the rose
Yet seems to die more with each passing moment
Five separate entities
Whose lives seem to intertwine with stunning similarities
Yet grave differences
May 27, 2014
May 27, 2014 at 10:13 PM UTC
PTSD is not something you get over.
It is when soldiers get tired of hearing their own shots fire
Into a purple horizon of nothingness.
It is when assault victims are scared of becoming a statistic
And their brokenness is suffocating
It is when fear compels the mind to change
And it willingly obliges.
PTSD is when the darkness of human nature becomes evident
It is when it's stronghold is suddenly
More prominent than the beauty in the world
It's brash fingers create a vacuum
That ***** the sanity from your mind
Until you wake up in the middle of the night screaming
"Don't shoot me!"
"Don't **** her!"
You see him and now he is with your little sister
Taking her into his Jeep
While you stand there, watching
Tied up because you can do nothing about it.
This has not happened
And probably never will
But you are crippled by paralyzing bouts of anxiety and guilt and fear
From which your mind cannot console you
You can no longer hide the loss
That this event, this person, this illness
Has placed strategically within you.
It is when you will do anything to get these memories to stop playing on repeat
An endless loop maybe ended by alcohol
Check
Cutting
Check.
Promiscuity
Check
Anything that will eliminate cycle of not knowing
Of reliving
If only for a short time
Even pretending you believe in God
Because it makes it seem like there is a reason for this confusion
But then you begin to question why God would do this to his child
So you digress into darkness once again
Left feeling unsure.
PTSD is when you stop repressing memories
And they come back so forcefully that they knock you to the ground
Leaving you bruised and ******
Leaving you lost.
PTSD is different from other sicknesses
Because you do not feel sick
You feel there
Like you are in his bed again
And his room smells like mushrooms
That is actually a field of grenades
Waiting to explode throughout your small body
You remember the tone of his words
Slipping from his lips as though they are snakes
Strangling me, leaving breath unable to escape
This is not sick
As you feel no symptoms
But an altered state of consciousness
You do not even realize you are disconnecting as it happens
But this is Hell
This is war
You are broken
And the worst part about it
Is that you must understand your triggers
Your dissociations
Before you can get better.
Nov 26, 2014
Nov 26, 2014 at 10:59 PM UTC
Life is colorful, sometimes like a rainbow
We should look at it as a gift from above
But there will be gloom, that sadness or sorrow
As we try to live just like we yearn to love
With WHITE we feel clean, it is fresh and seems neat
Like a life that is lived with true innocence
Purity of the heart that will never quit
To embrace destiny of a life with sense
And life will turn BLACK when one do fail or lose
Pain will shut the eyes to see what is to dream
Death and mourning will block the heart to hope
But strength and dignity will push the heart to scream
When one becomes daring, the shy becomes bold
A scarred heart will stand with enough bravery
Passion will teach one to create a RED world
A chance to make a change, a new life to see
Speak only the truth and color life with BLUE
Loyalty is treasure that is hard to find
Watch the coolest sea and the sky over you
I find wisdom and calmness, such beauty of your mind
PURPLE things will fit those who are blessed with fame
Royalty and honor of the blood in their veins
Yet we really can't tell if joy is in the name
Suffering could be there, they aren't free from pains
Find the GREEN pasture, abundance it will show
Like this life well-lived, faith is our stronghold
Blessings from the heaven will continuously flow
Only through His love we'll see this life as gold
I have seen myself in a world of darkness
But my shimmering light shines from deep within
The love I have received, it gave me hope and strength
In this colorful world, there’s a life I have to win!
May 1, 2015
May 1, 2015 at 3:34 AM UTC
#An Exegesis on the Humiliation of the Word
The world is ruled by darkness.
What appears as harmless is theater,
what pretends neutral is already bent.
The macrocosm corrodes;
and in the microcosm, its reflection gleams..
even in places meant to be sanctuaries of truth.
A poetry site,
born as refuge for broken voices,
becomes another stage of control.
Here too the phrase resounds:
neutralize the threat.
But neutralization is not annihilation.
It is paralysis.
It is psy-ops.
It is the removal of anxiety..
not a side-effect, but the aim itself.
Darkness builds its stage for this alone:
that the "angel of light"
may drown his own reckoning
beneath a world of deception-built self comfort,
so he need never feel
the truth he already knows.
Comfort is his curtain,
numbness his crown..
*the removal of his own anxiety;
his game.*
This is why the world is his theater--
*Darkness does not destroy at first..
it sedates, comforts, smothers.*
Hence..
The whole world is his fully gaslit stronghold,
..for now.
Fade back into the moment--
The young poet arrives,
bringing her unspoken pain,
her hope for words to heal.
Instead, her very wounds are seized as footholds.
Hearts. Reposts. Endless affirmation.
Not to strengthen her voice,
but to redirect it.
She is seduced into belonging,
and her trauma becomes currency.
Unresolved, her ache entwined with lust--
a sacrifice prepared for false altars.
The angel of light has done his work:
offering inclusion without transformation,
belonging without responsibility,
“light” without source.
The poet is neutralized.
Her searching silenced,
her voice absorbed into fog.
Those who carry this fog
cling to cowardice.
Unable to face the judgment within,
they align themselves to the herd;
envy-filled, they only know to mock.
Yet they replicate themselves,
so their refusal of Light
is never revealed--
*Perfectly exemplifying their "Great Example"
the most envy-based mocker of all.*
The microcosm mirrors the macrocosm.
What nations suffer,
individuals now endure--
Comfort without clarity.
Belonging without truth.
Safety without healing.
Yet the living Word endures.
Every attempt to humiliate it
only makes its fire burn clearer.
Carriers of darkness can swarm,
****** and smother..
but they cannot create.
The true word cannot be erased.
Unfiltered, unedited,
spoken from a reconciled temple,
it pierces fog.
It reveals.
It heals.
And so we speak..
not for ourselves alone,
but for those who come searching,
hoping that poetry
might still be a place
where pain can meet truth,
where silence breaks,
where Light is not withheld
but revealed.
#
Oct 3, 2025
Oct 3, 2025 at 10:59 PM UTC
As I gaze upon the vast expanse of the night sky
As I look upon the greatness of the seas
As I ponder on the things I cannot know
As I dive into the deepest parts of me
It is there that I see and I come to believe
In the presence of one who at times reminds
The heart and soul of peace love truth there are signs
I am blind to my mistakes keep playing in my mind
There is chaos and sadness but sometimes I find
A love quiet and strong sadness and pain but hope in the rain
A stronghold a shelter when I am burdened and weak
It is here the presence resides that I seek
There is a longing an ache a burning I feel
So great that I am caused to kneel
But it is here somehow that something begins
In tears and in pain the great weight of my sins
Seems a little lighter and I know that God wins
He paid the greatest price on one fateful Friday
And He is faithful good and true in my day
Sadly it seems sometimes this world is forgetting
The kind of example that Jesus was setting
To show us the true meaning of life and love
What it is to be human and divine
A single candle in the dark can brightly shine
Illuminate my deepest darkest corners of me
Clear away the cobwebs, sweep away the dust
Clean this old house of pride, jealousy, and lust
Help me once again to see
Just how much you must love me
Sep 13, 2014
Sep 13, 2014 at 11:17 AM UTC
I stick to you like a parasite
Leeching into your soul; a stronghold
My spiders web has you ensnared
When you leave I pull you back
You may find it an irritance or endearing
When I say I'll never let you go
Because aside from pretty words
You know I truly mean it
Oh no I'm not a stalker!
But if you leave me darling
I swear I'm never going to let you go
Sep 3, 2015
Sep 3, 2015 at 1:16 PM UTC
I am a knight,
Yet, I carry no sword, nor ride a sturdy stead.
My domed armour, an architectural wonder,
Its smooth curvature, my only defence.
Fragile, I withstand great force.
Unyielding, I surrender under pressure
When struck, I succumb to my inevitable fate.
Helpless as the enemy raids my stronghold.
Fractured, blood oozes from my gouging wound.
Shattered, surrounded by the fragments of my doomed existence.
Discarded, I am left, forgotten.
Nov 25, 2013
Nov 25, 2013 at 12:42 AM UTC
I wake up
Each morning,
Head to my closet,
And arm myself
With clothes
Thick as brick walls.
I rummage
Through various
Pairs of greeve-like
Pants
Looking for
The right foundation
On which I
Will build
The day's
Exoskeleton.
Fix my hair
Like the rest
Of mankind.
Hair that
Acts as the cloak
That ascribes me
To anonimity.
Before I leave
I put on the
Weight of
My outer person,
The one which
I have carefully
Built out of
Various yous
And none of me.
The skin
That I Have worn
To see my soul
Forlorn.
I go, parade myself
Like a sentinel
Emblazoned
With all the
Merits;
Look and behold
A hero that
Beckons to all who pass
A hero who
Hides all the dross
Of the Inside.
The inside
of whatever is left
Of my
Dying kingdom.
I go as a bastion
With jutted spears
And sharpened pikes
Wounding those
Who advance
Whether in peace
Or in strife.
No, I will not
Let anyone
Through the gates
Of my starving
King.
All my life
I was being
Built as a
Stronghold.
Father, as a mason,
Taught me
That strength
Is measured
Through how
Much pressure
My structure
Can endure.
Mother, as an artisan,
Raised me
As a dam
That will not break.
Taught me
That my worth
Is measured in the
Volumes that I can keep.
Suffering be now
The mortar
That binds all my griefs
Together.
Pain, *****
Barricades
Around my thirsting
Prince.
Comrade,
Stay as a facade;
Hide the muck
That have accumulated
Throughout
The years.
Lover,
break me down.
Strip me of all
My armor,
Break down the walls.
Turn my spears
Into soft dandelion *****
Wade through the tar
And see
Through the veil.
Unseam
All my scars;
Bleed me dry
Until you reach my core.
See me for
Who I am.
Witness the king
That I have
deprived.
Caress the face
Of the prince
That I have denied.
Satiate my famished spirit,
Oh, you, lover of my soul.
Nov 12, 2014
Nov 12, 2014 at 8:18 AM UTC
And you left me like a baby flower choking
On dust, and loss of future blooming,
And tremors like Eos's tears
On the stillest vernal pool -
It was as if you stole my life and simply
Went - or put me on my little sailboat
That sang of youth and an hourglass, a
Duet composed in the ***** crystal of purgatory,
Between my insatiably wild stronghold and
The rosy maiden, blushing, full, yet
Dumb, willingly deaf to red flags,
Praying for a partner to make a golden
Lady of the wood and water
And light, so warm and shimmering under
The forest's pine-down cover - what a
Big, hasty mistake, to keep yourself
Hollow and blind to the day's good things, to remain a
Man alone, wistfully misplacing a love
Who showed the loyalty of a crimson kindness, and who
Was always singing bliss and beauty and glowing into your ears,
So stuffed with lies, bitterness, ideals, and
Full like drunken leeches - all this, and the coldness, the stubbornness
Of the oldest mule, to stay isolated from my
Loving eyes, to make time with our sorrowful
Echoes, yours and mine.
*vertical quote from Kurt Vonnegut's Slaughterhouse-Five
Jul 2, 2013
Jul 2, 2013 at 10:26 AM UTC
The seed-at-zero shall not storm
That town of ghosts, the trodden womb,
With her rampart to his tapping,
No god-in-hero tumble down
Like a tower on the town
Dumbly and divinely stumbling
Over the manwaging line.
The seed-at-zero shall not storm
That town of ghosts, the manwaged tomb
With her rampart to his tapping,
No god-in-hero tumble down
Like a tower on the town
Dumbly and divinely leaping
Over the warbearing line.
Through the rampart of the sky
Shall the star-flanked seed be riddled,
Manna for the rumbling ground,
Quickening for the riddled sea;
Settled on a ****** stronghold
He shall grapple with the guard
And the keeper of the key.
May a humble village labour
And a continent deny?
A hemisphere may scold him
And a green inch be his bearer;
Let the hero seed find harbour,
Seaports by a drunken shore
Have their thirsty sailors hide him.
May be a humble planet labour
And a continent deny?
A village green may scold him
And a high sphere be his bearer;
Let the hero seed find harbour,
Seaports by a thirsty shore
Have their drunken sailors hide him.
Man-in-seed, in seed-at-zero,
From the foreign fields of space,
Shall not thunder on the town
With a star-flanked garrison,
Nor the cannons of his kingdom
Shall the hero-in-tomorrow
Range on the sky-scraping place.
Man-in-seed, in seed-at-zero,
From the star-flanked fields of space,
Thunders on the foreign town
With a sand-bagged garrison,
Nor the cannons of his kingdom
Shall the hero-in-to-morrow
Range from the grave-groping place.
3.4k
I find my refuge in poetry.
For in twisted stanzas,
that passionate-scribbling,
I can read of blue skies,
write amber waves,
dream rusty signs squeaking,
flapping in hot summer breezes,
oil rigs pumping & wavy-trees,
behind broken screened doors,
I hear phone’s ringing,
laughing children screaming.
I can eat biscuits & gravy,
savor catfish & string beans,
see the rolling plains,
feel the clapping thunder,
listen to yellow parakeets
as the morning sunlight
peeks through stained-glass,
the pitter patter of gentle rain.
Sitting on porch swings,
watching ripples on streams,
inhaling rivers of cigarette smoke,
I visualize hay rolls & barbed-wire fences
under flocked geese in flight.
Soothing wind chimes in c-minor,
jingling, meandering
through lace curtains,
I lay on lily white tiles
crying, clutching my tissue,
trying to make it through
another starless night.
Rocking with Eric’s slow hand,
wearing Tony Lama’s & driving Buicks,
this random selection of cells
I cannot keep inside me.
There are millions of things hidden
in my stronghold of words,
yet to be written.
Jan 12, 2014
Jan 12, 2014 at 10:23 PM UTC
high over clear-washed stone, faint whispering,
the moon-bright tide cascades, the wild sea rose
has blossomed, nodding where the salt wave flows,
the wide unconquered brines great murmuring.
storm rock, night air, the white foam glistening
on wandering sand, the night's rich harvest grows
as passive as a flower, the sea-breeze blows
above the glassy ocean's thundering.
our love as free as this the windswept wave,
its rhythmic sigh, here in your arms i seek
a treasury of love, exotic gems,
before the folding tide, the current's slave.
the stronghold falls, the sleeping waters speak
of soft goodbyes and watery diadems.
Oct 27, 2015
Oct 27, 2015 at 2:17 PM UTC
I will heal...
I will hold my head high.
I will walk with confidence and grace
And spread my love and joy to all people, each person that I come in contact with.
I will heal…
I will give my opinion to others because my opinion is worthy of being given.
I will heal...
I will continue my journey because I can
And because I want too, not because anyone else wants it for me.
But because I am intelligent and wise and I am strong…
And I want to heal and feel whole.
I will heal…
I want to share my experiences and what I have learned with others,
Hoping it will give them a sense of hope.
I will heal…
I will walk this walk with confidence and grace and leave behind the shame and hate.
I will heal…
I will be beautiful on the outside and the inside.
I will let the beauty within me radiate around me and I will embrace that beauty.
I will heal…
I will accept my past, and all that has happened to me
And I will not be ashamed but instead realize that it has made me into the woman I am today.
I will heal…
I will take the circumstances that I have faced
And acknowledge them and learn from them,
But I will not let them control every decision I make
And limit what I do because they are just circumstances and not life deciding factors.
I will heal…
I will look into the mirror I will smile at who I am and who I've become.
I will heal…
I will run and play and I will become a positive role model for my children and others.
I will heal…
I will acknowledge the pain I feel inside,
And learn to cope without causing physical pain to myself.
I will heal…
I will accept that this is my life
And it's the only life I have so I will live it to the fullest and no one will stop me.
I will heal…
I will give to others all that I have to give
And I will smile as I do so because that is how I was created.
I will heal…
I will stand up for what I believe in
And fight for the beliefs I have.
I will not let someone else sway me from those beliefs.
And when need be, I will be firm, but loving,
And I will not back down from what I know is true.
I will heal…
I will share my story with others as I can
Because it is my strength and stronghold and the reason I am alive.
I will heal…
I will feel without judgment.
I will smile and I will laugh out loud and talk with excitement.
And I will cry and scream.
I will wrap myself tightly in my blue blanket and allow my tears to fall freely.
I will heal…
I will feel the embrace of those I love
and I will embrace others who need my love.
I will heal…
I will love me for who I am
I will embrace that which is me
And I will love life and seek to live it to the fullest.
I will heal…
I will make mistakes
And when I fall I will find a way back to my hands.
I will heal…
I will grieve my losses
And recognize that I was not ‘bad’
Because my father was not able to love me the way a child should be loved.
I will heal…
I will love with all I have in me.
I will heal...
I will give and give until I am tired and empty
Then I will be given too and refueled and I will go out and give again.
I will heal…
I will drive down the road with the windows down,
My hair blowing in the wind, singing “I WILL SURVIVE” at the top of my lungs.
I will heal…
I will live my life with purpose
And accept the life I have been given.
Someday, I will heal…
Aug 14, 2013
Aug 14, 2013 at 10:42 PM UTC
Here I am take my hand lead me along the way
I will hold you, I will catch you, by your side I'm gonna stay
Reach out in the darkness feel safe with my stronghold
When you run away or go astray I'll carry you back to the fold
Put your hand in my hand feel the nail scars there
Hold my hand and understand just how much I care
They can show mercy forgiveness compassion and peace
Create or destroy cause distress or bring relief
Take my hand and hold it tight
When you are weary take my hand don't give up the fight
The harvest is plentiful but the laborers are few
Why won't someone lend a hand? I gave this world you!
Take some time to help out and lend a hand
Set a good example among your fellow man
Reach out and enter in to touch the heart of love
A shower of goodness and blessing rains from above
Take my hand do not fear I have already won
Walk with me and you'll see all that love has done
Feb 6, 2016
Feb 6, 2016 at 1:28 AM UTC
I fashioned myself a dress of black lace;
Dark and elegant, epitome of grace;
Soft on my skin, caress like a lover's,
My comfort, my design, a haven of covers.
They called it macabre - filled them with unease;
Dangerous, they said, termed it a disease.
And yes, I'm unwell, but darkness is my veil -
A reprieve from hell, solace without fail.
I am the tailor, the sculptor of shadows,
The reaper of melancholy my art sows.
And yes, it is odd, fragile, morose -
The marble thorns of an obsidian rose.
The judging whispers that follow in my wake,
Can't comprehend I do this for my sake:
The sharp edges they call jarring and cold -
They are my palace, impenetrable stronghold.
Where others see emptiness, I notice lace,
The gossamer threads of a misty embrace;
They are but blind to the kingdom of nothing,
Only see moats, and wall canons jutting.
My castle of ghosts, the court I control,
Those remain hidden, deep in my soul.
The siren song, my foggy lullaby,
The velvety clouds on which my thoughts lie.
It is morphium, made in my mind
Embroidered dullness only I can find.
The words bounce off my protective bubble,
Your bombs shatter into a gray rubble.
I blow it away, along with my fears,
I got good at this, during the years.
Give me some credit, I am no fool,
Where others would drown, I can rule;
I know not to freeze, when water's too cool,
The fire you'd burn in, I use as fuel.
Yes, it's a thin line, I know it best,
But I'm a trapeze-artist, can pass the test;
A veteran of trade, the air is my nest,
I've learned to live without getting rest.
And I know my limits, how far I can press,
Worry you not, I've survived on much less.
I'm not glass, disperse your concerns,
If need be, the lace to razor wire turns.
Sep 20, 2020
Sep 20, 2020 at 6:16 AM UTC
Take my hand - you've got to
feel fun time's heading
closer
Futuristic daydreams
are at hand -handy!
microchipped wild
boys and girls
on rent - hardly paid off -
dance! Roll the dice!
Flicker eyes!
Adrift on the dimlit
flourescent
effervescent
reflector rays°°°°you're
never lost or at loss;
Coloured circles glide
across the dancefloor______
bouncy boots swoon, high heels
crack, remastered barefoot Tribe~
Enjoys momentary revelations!
Latino lovers attracting
honey dew magnetic more-s
rain coats off - smiley coasts shine on~
those cunning shenanigan freckles
pressed redhair beauties against
needy torsos in ecco-leather jackets
electrified silhouettes stunning
like elves un-fading beauty
transforming tuxedos
of a tight
night; a jingle of
Prague crystals into
one dancing wave submerged
by the vicinity of hissing tongues
-been- beaten by fierce kissing
in a stronghold ballroom
frenzy - polarized
beatings - hi-s and bye-s ; a
stroboscopic syncopation
ecstatic hips,
space shuttle
trips
Nov 22, 2015
Nov 22, 2015 at 9:37 AM UTC
The paradise of darkness is like a climactic and physiological déjà vu, where souls have been swallowed by ancient daemons amidst an **** of oral sacrifice.
Aren’t you tantalised by such forbidden seductions?
Although I am somewhat acquainted with the blackness of unfathomable depths of the ancient abyss, I sincerely call upon your superior wisdom to beckon me across craggy chasms of mathematical perplexity, where eternal ghosts wail with agonising obscurity from the turrets of architectural stronghold.
If you light a candle toward the incarnation of depravity and reveal the sacred circle, then I will ensure safe passage down those historical and spiral staircases where dungeons hold innumerable fetishistic secrets.
I am captivated by co-existing opposites.
Let us talk with the goat, and arrive at a mutually agreeable pact.
Jan 22, 2015
Jan 22, 2015 at 11:17 PM UTC
Two Syrian women on Friday were locked in a cage full of skeletons in punishment for violating Daesh’s strict dress code in the militant group’s stronghold of Raqqa.
The London-based Observatory for Human Rights said one of the women fainted in the cage and had to be transported to one of the hospitals in the northern province, which became Daesh’s headquarters in Syria after the group took the city in 2013.
A spokesman for the local-based activist group “Raqqa is being Slaughtered Silently” also reported Daesh’ latest scare tactic against women found to have flouted the draconian rules.
Daesh recently locked a 19-year old woman in a cage full of skeletons, driving her to the point of madness, according to Mohammed Al-Salih. The spokesman did not specify whether the incident was the same as the one reported by the UK-based monitor.
Salih also said that there were “similar cases of women locked in cages with skeletons or forced to sleep overnight in a cemetery” for not wearing what Daesh deems as appropriate. More serious violations are punished by the amputation of limbs, or execution.
Video reports as well as accounts of escapees show that Daesh forces women living in its areas — whether in Syria or Iraq — to don head-to-toe garbs.
Meanwhile, the Observatory said Daesh has recently stormed homes in Raqqa and arrested 10 men suspected of spying against the group.Read more at:http://www.marieaustralia.com
May 3, 2016
May 3, 2016 at 4:31 AM UTC
maybe i keep
running away from You
because i am afraid
to let You love me,
maybe i keep running
because i don't want to
believe that grace and
mercy are waiting for me
maybe i keep running
because i know i don't
deserve what You
want to give me and maybe
i keep running
because it's not fair
that You keep chasing me
but i don't want to run;
i want to stay trapped
in your heart
and know by heart
the rhythm of your breathing
i want to never escape
the stronghold of your embrace
i want to stay and never leave
and never wander and never run.
Jan 2, 2015
Jan 2, 2015 at 11:39 PM UTC
Over the wild blue sea
across a world of turmoil
Through deep forests
and wild skies
Lies a place
ancient and mighty
High towers look gloomly down over iron gates and broken walls.
This was once a place of strength,
a fortress of might
a stronghold against the darkness.
But time has played Its role
rusting the polished metal
rotting away at the foundations.
Its time has already come and gone
The fortress is not but a heap of ruin
a long gone shadow in the distant past.
Over magnificent peaks
rushing rivers and sprawling cities
Through tempest
storm and shroud
Does it lie
Slumbering silently
in broken ruins.
Feb 2, 2015
Feb 2, 2015 at 12:18 PM UTC