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Advent Oct 2014
coffees are my one-way ticket to contemplation–
to realizations and dramas
it shapes my eyes
to view life like a panorama

coffee makes me think
about the world,
the people
and both combined

coffee connects me to the crowd
to their lives,
sometimes shared with mine

coffee gates to different events and realities
it awakens wishful thinking
and kicks curiosities

coffee, summed up
is a friend
of all those who've got their heads in their *****

it is a guru of life
and other life experiences

                                                   ­       a.t.
Rosie Owen Apr 2015
Marriage is changing, from who can get married (37 states now allow gay marriage!) to who actually ends up doing it. Only 26% of millennials are married, a sharp decrease from 36% of Generation X and 48% of baby boomers, according to the Pew Research Center. But marriage isn't obsolete — in fact, in many ways it's thriving as we re-evaluate what the institution really means to us.

And with re-evaluating marriage comes re-evaluating weddings. The Knot's "2014 Real Weddings Study" found that couples are foregoing traditional wedding customs to modernize their nuptials through their choice of rings, dresses and officiants.

That includes — perhaps most importantly — the vows. Couples today are taking cues from badass brides like Amelia Earhart, who banned the word "obey" from her 1931 wedding vows, and reciting promises to one another that reflect the partnerships they strive for. Here are 12 real-life couples who vowed...

1. "To split the difference on the thermostat."

Why it's awesome: When Brad Pitt and Jennifer Aniston got married, Pitt pledged to "split the difference on the thermostat." While that partnership didn't last, as we all know, it was a lighthearted vow that highlights a crucial element of modern marriage: compromise. The key to a happy marriage is learning how to meet halfway.

2. "To be a true and loyal friend to you."

Why it's awesome: Marriages weren't always about intimate, caring partnerships between equals. But we know well enough now that the happiest, most long-lasting marriages are those in which partners see each other as friends (even studies have proven it true). Jevan's vows to Alithea, shared by the Knot, are a reminder that the bedrock of friendship is what makes a modern marriage stand.

3. "To communicate fully and fearlessly."

Why it's awesome: Among the traditional promise of partnership and faith, real-life couple Anne and Gabrielle told the Knot they vowed "to communicate fully and fearlessly" as spouses. In our modern world, we have seemingly endless ways to communicate — text, email, Skype, Snapchat — and yet still have to work to connect. Sitting down face-to-face, making eye contact and being vulnerable with one another is still crucial, as is being honest without fear of judgment from your partner. Emojis aside, that's what really sustains a lasting relationship.

4. "To grab your **** even when we're old and wrinkly."

Why it's awesome: As we become more open about sexuality (thank goodness), it's only natural that a wink and a nudge find their way into the wedding vows. In an open thread on A Practical Wedding, Zach and Kate shared their vows, which included the promise "to hit on you in awesome accents and grab your **** even when we're old and wrinkly." This promise to keep the spark alive even years down the line is no small thing. After all, studies have shown that all it can take is a simple touch to maintain a ****** connection.

5. "To value our differences as much as our common ground."

Why it's awesome: Love is a powerful force to bring people together, even when they're divided by cultural background, religion and, increasingly, politics. As society grows more divisive and we hold tight to our views, it's valuable to remember that our differences don't have to actually divide us, as these vows from real-life couple Greta Christina and Ingrid, told to Patheos, show.

6. "To continue to love your children, as if they were my own."

Why it's awesome: A marriage isn't just a vow to one person, it's a vow to an entire family — future and present. In 2011, Pew Research found that more than 4 in 10 American adults have at least one "step relative" in their family, including a stepparent, a stepchild or a step or half sibling. These adults are just as likely as others to say that family is the most important element of their lives. So it's no surprise that people have been adapting their weddings to encompass the commitment to an entire family, as Sara M. did in her vows, shared on Offbeat Bride.

7. "To comfort you when the Falcons lose and drink beer with you when they win."

Why it's awesome: As Mallory summed up so perfectly to Eddie in their vows, shared by the Knot, appreciating each other's distinct interests and actively sharing in them together makes a huge difference. It goes beyond just putting on the Falcons jersey: Sitting down for the game and sharing a beer is what researchers would call "shared leisure," and it makes a big difference for marital satisfaction. That football game is more than just a football game.

8. "To never try to hurt you just because I'm angry or tired."

Why it's awesome: The chaos of our lives means lots of stress, lots of late nights and lots of exhaustion. (Unsurprisingly, Gallup found that 40% of American adults get less than the recommended amount of sleep.) That can actually wreak havoc on a relationship, which is why it's all the more important to anticipate the challenge. Sarah's vows to her husband, which she shared on A Practical Wedding, are a promise not to take out her stress and exhaustion on him. Instead, she vows to trust him throughout the chaos, "even when we veer from GPS directions, schedules, itineraries and to-do lists."

9. "I have called you my life partner, my significant other, my longtime companion, my lover. ... Now I vow to love you always as my lawfully wedded husband."

Why it's awesome: The vows said by George Takei and longtime partner Brad Altman at their wedding, after the passage of marriage equality in California, were unsurprisingly moving, given they were 21 years in the making. As couples, straight and gay, wait longer to get married (and cohabit in the meantime), labels like "husband" or "wife" are less crucial for defining the relationship than the moments a couple has shared. Takei and Altman's wedding was not proof of their commitment, but rather a tribute to the commitment they had already demonstrated — a truth echoed clearly in their vows.

10. "To be your partner in all things, not possessing you, but working with you as a part of the whole."

Why it's awesome: If we're really striving for egalitarian marriages, then recognizing the equal amounts of work required by each half, as partners, is crucial, especially as women's participation in the workforce keeps growing (57.2% compared to 69.7% for men in 2013). In order for both careers to receive equal focus, a promise not to "possess" but to work to support each other is key. Much like Amelia Earhart refused to use the word "obey," real-life couple Alex and Michelle promised to be each other's "equal in all things" in the vows they shared with the Knot.

11. "I will love you no matter what makes my blood circulate, or even no matter what provides my body with oxygen."

Why it's awesome: Traditional weddings tend to be religious occasions, but with increasing rates of atheism and marriages across faiths, religion is taking a back seat to a more personalized expression of commitment. As of 2013, only one third of couples opted to get married in a church, and even more are removing religion from their vows. But that doesn't mean the vows don't appeal to a higher sense of faith — in the other person or in the world, as these scientific, "atheistic" vows, translated from Swedish and shared on Reddit, prove.

12. "I see these vows not as promises but as privileges."

Why it's awesome: Marriage might have been necessary decades ago, but these days it's more of a choice. So it's only natural that the vows we recite — traditionally a list of duties and obligations — actually reflect the happy choice that marriage now is for so many.

Yuval and Dina chose to frame their vows as honors, as they shared with the Knot: "I see these vows not as promises but as privileges: I get to laugh with you and cry with you; care for you and share with you. I get to run with you and walk with you; build with you and live with you." With between 40% to 50% of marriages in the U.S. ending in divorce, it's more important than ever that couples remind themselves that being with their partner is a privilege in itself, and one to never take for granted.

DaSH the Hopeful Feb 2016
I used to flip through my pages
There were some interesting points
  Some high, some low, some kind of just sitting in-between after the good and the bad cancelled each other out, but mostly I
       Skimmed by,

         Until I met you,

                 You can't be summed up, there's too much to you, you're too rich, too deep
Too interesting to be confined to a few measly paragraphs and sped-read through

     You deserve attention, you deserve time,

       And the more I've gotten to know you, the more I realize you're the entire book, the entire story in beautiful, vivid detail.

                *I'm going to take my time getting to the end of you, and I dog-eared the page where you entered my heart, so that if I ever forget how it feels to fall for you, I can go back to the start
No more of talk where God or Angel guest
With Man, as with his friend, familiar us’d,
To sit indulgent, and with him partake
Rural repast; permitting him the while
Venial discourse unblam’d. I now must change
Those notes to tragick; foul distrust, and breach
Disloyal on the part of Man, revolt,
And disobedience: on the part of Heaven
Now alienated, distance and distaste,
Anger and just rebuke, and judgement given,
That brought into this world a world of woe,
Sin and her shadow Death, and Misery
Death’s harbinger: Sad talk!yet argument
Not less but more heroick than the wrath
Of stern Achilles on his foe pursued
Thrice fugitive about Troy wall; or rage
Of Turnus for Lavinia disespous’d;
Or Neptune’s ire, or Juno’s, that so long
Perplexed the Greek, and Cytherea’s son:                        

If answerable style I can obtain
Of my celestial patroness, who deigns
Her nightly visitation unimplor’d,
And dictates to me slumbering; or inspires
Easy my unpremeditated verse:
Since first this subject for heroick song
Pleas’d me long choosing, and beginning late;
Not sedulous by nature to indite
Wars, hitherto the only argument
Heroick deem’d chief mastery to dissect
With long and tedious havock fabled knights
In battles feign’d; the better fortitude
Of patience and heroick martyrdom
Unsung; or to describe races and games,
Or tilting furniture, imblazon’d shields,
Impresses quaint, caparisons and steeds,
Bases and tinsel trappings, gorgeous knights
At joust and tournament; then marshall’d feast
Serv’d up in hall with sewers and seneshals;
The skill of artifice or office mean,
Not that which justly gives heroick name
To person, or to poem.  Me, of these
Nor skill’d nor studious, higher argument
Remains; sufficient of itself to raise
That name, unless an age too late, or cold
Climate, or years, damp my intended wing
Depress’d; and much they may, if all be mine,
Not hers, who brings it nightly to my ear.
The sun was sunk, and after him the star
Of Hesperus, whose office is to bring
Twilight upon the earth, short arbiter
“twixt day and night, and now from end to end
Night’s hemisphere had veil’d the horizon round:
When satan, who late fled before the threats
Of Gabriel out of Eden, now improv’d
In meditated fraud and malice, bent
On Man’s destruction, maugre what might hap
Of heavier on himself, fearless returned
From compassing the earth; cautious of day,
Since Uriel, regent of the sun, descried
His entrance, and foreworned the Cherubim
That kept their watch; thence full of anguish driven,
The space of seven continued nights he rode
With darkness; thrice the equinoctial line
He circled; four times crossed the car of night
From pole to pole, traversing each colure;
On the eighth returned; and, on the coast averse
From entrance or Cherubick watch, by stealth
Found unsuspected way.  There was a place,
Now not, though sin, not time, first wrought the change,
Where Tigris, at the foot of Paradise,
Into a gulf shot under ground, till part
Rose up a fountain by the tree of life:
In with the river sunk, and with it rose
Satan, involved in rising mist; then sought
Where to lie hid; sea he had searched, and land,
From Eden over Pontus and the pool
Maeotis, up beyond the river Ob;
Downward as far antarctick; and in length,
West from Orontes to the ocean barred
At Darien ; thence to the land where flows
Ganges and Indus: Thus the orb he roamed
With narrow search; and with inspection deep
Considered every creature, which of all
Most opportune might serve his wiles; and found
The Serpent subtlest beast of all the field.
Him after long debate, irresolute
Of thoughts revolved, his final sentence chose
Fit vessel, fittest imp of fraud, in whom
To enter, and his dark suggestions hide
From sharpest sight: for, in the wily snake
Whatever sleights, none would suspicious mark,
As from his wit and native subtlety
Proceeding; which, in other beasts observed,
Doubt might beget of diabolick power
Active within, beyond the sense of brute.
Thus he resolved, but first from inward grief
His bursting passion into plaints thus poured.
More justly, seat worthier of Gods, as built
With second thoughts, reforming what was old!
O Earth, how like to Heaven, if not preferred
For what God, after better, worse would build?
Terrestrial Heaven, danced round by other Heavens
That shine, yet bear their bright officious lamps,
Light above light, for thee alone, as seems,
In thee concentring all their precious beams
Of sacred influence!  As God in Heaven
Is center, yet extends to all; so thou,
Centring, receivest from all those orbs: in thee,
Not in themselves, all their known virtue appears
Productive in herb, plant, and nobler birth
Of creatures animate with gradual life
Of growth, sense, reason, all summed up in Man.
With what delight could I have walked thee round,
If I could joy in aught, sweet interchange
Of hill, and valley, rivers, woods, and plains,
Now land, now sea and shores with forest crowned,
Rocks, dens, and caves!  But I in none of these
Find place or refuge; and the more I see
Pleasures about me, so much more I feel
Torment within me, as from the hateful siege
Of contraries: all good to me becomes
Bane, and in Heaven much worse would be my state.
But neither here seek I, no nor in Heaven
To dwell, unless by mastering Heaven’s Supreme;
Nor hope to be myself less miserable
By what I seek, but others to make such
As I, though thereby worse to me redound:
For only in destroying I find ease
To my relentless thoughts; and, him destroyed,
Or won to what may work his utter loss,
For whom all this was made, all this will soon
Follow, as to him linked in weal or woe;
In woe then; that destruction wide may range:
To me shall be the glory sole among
The infernal Powers, in one day to have marred
What he, Almighty styled, six nights and days
Continued making; and who knows how long
Before had been contriving? though perhaps
Not longer than since I, in one night, freed
From servitude inglorious well nigh half
The angelick name, and thinner left the throng
Of his adorers: He, to be avenged,
And to repair his numbers thus impaired,
Whether such virtue spent of old now failed
More Angels to create, if they at least
Are his created, or, to spite us more,
Determined to advance into our room
A creature formed of earth, and him endow,
Exalted from so base original,
With heavenly spoils, our spoils: What he decreed,
He effected; Man he made, and for him built
Magnificent this world, and earth his seat,
Him lord pronounced; and, O indignity!
Subjected to his service angel-wings,
And flaming ministers to watch and tend
Their earthly charge: Of these the vigilance
I dread; and, to elude, thus wrapt in mist
Of midnight vapour glide obscure, and pry
In every bush and brake, where hap may find
The serpent sleeping; in whose mazy folds
To hide me, and the dark intent I bring.
O foul descent! that I, who erst contended
With Gods to sit the highest, am now constrained
Into a beast; and, mixed with ******* slime,
This essence to incarnate and imbrute,
That to the highth of Deity aspired!
But what will not ambition and revenge
Descend to?  Who aspires, must down as low
As high he soared; obnoxious, first or last,
To basest things.  Revenge, at first though sweet,
Bitter ere long, back on itself recoils:
Let it; I reck not, so it light well aimed,
Since higher I fall short, on him who next
Provokes my envy, this new favourite
Of Heaven, this man of clay, son of despite,
Whom, us the more to spite, his Maker raised
From dust: Spite then with spite is best repaid.
So saying, through each thicket dank or dry,
Like a black mist low-creeping, he held on
His midnight-search, where soonest he might find
The serpent; him fast-sleeping soon he found
In labyrinth of many a round self-rolled,
His head the midst, well stored with subtile wiles:
Not yet in horrid shade or dismal den,
Nor nocent yet; but, on the grassy herb,
Fearless unfeared he slept: in at his mouth
The Devil entered; and his brutal sense,
In heart or head, possessing, soon inspired
With act intelligential; but his sleep
Disturbed not, waiting close the approach of morn.
Now, when as sacred light began to dawn
In Eden on the humid flowers, that breathed
Their morning incense, when all things, that breathe,
From the Earth’s great altar send up silent praise
To the Creator, and his nostrils fill
With grateful smell, forth came the human pair,
And joined their vocal worship to the quire
Of creatures wanting voice; that done, partake
The season prime for sweetest scents and airs:
Then commune, how that day they best may ply
Their growing work: for much their work out-grew
The hands’ dispatch of two gardening so wide,
And Eve first to her husband thus began.
Adam, well may we labour still to dress
This garden, still to tend plant, herb, and flower,
Our pleasant task enjoined; but, till more hands
Aid us, the work under our labour grows,
Luxurious by restraint; what we by day
Lop overgrown, or prune, or prop, or bind,
One night or two with wanton growth derides
Tending to wild.  Thou therefore now advise,
Or bear what to my mind first thoughts present:
Let us divide our labours; thou, where choice
Leads thee, or where most needs, whether to wind
The woodbine round this arbour, or direct
The clasping ivy where to climb; while I,
In yonder spring of roses intermixed
With myrtle, find what to redress till noon:
For, while so near each other thus all day
Our task we choose, what wonder if so near
Looks intervene and smiles, or object new
Casual discourse draw on; which intermits
Our day’s work, brought to little, though begun
Early, and the hour of supper comes unearned?
To whom mild answer Adam thus returned.
Sole Eve, associate sole, to me beyond
Compare above all living creatures dear!
Well hast thou motioned, well thy thoughts employed,
How we might best fulfil the work which here
God hath assigned us; nor of me shalt pass
Unpraised: for nothing lovelier can be found
In woman, than to study houshold good,
And good works in her husband to promote.
Yet not so strictly hath our Lord imposed
Labour, as to debar us when we need
Refreshment, whether food, or talk between,
Food of the mind, or this sweet *******
Of looks and smiles; for smiles from reason flow,
To brute denied, and are of love the food;
Love, not the lowest end of human life.
For not to irksome toil, but to delight,
He made us, and delight to reason joined.
These paths and bowers doubt not but our joint hands
Will keep from wilderness with ease, as wide
As we need walk, till younger hands ere long
Assist us; But, if much converse perhaps
Thee satiate, to short absence I could yield:
For solitude sometimes is best society,
And short retirement urges sweet return.
But other doubt possesses me, lest harm
Befall thee severed from me; for thou knowest
What hath been warned us, what malicious foe
Envying our happiness, and of his own
Despairing, seeks to work us woe and shame
By sly assault; and somewhere nigh at hand
Watches, no doubt, with greedy hope to find
His wish and best advantage, us asunder;
Hopeless to circumvent us joined, where each
To other speedy aid might lend at need:
Whether his first design be to withdraw
Our fealty from God, or to disturb
Conjugal love, than which perhaps no bliss
Enjoyed by us excites his envy more;
Or this, or worse, leave not the faithful side
That gave thee being, still shades thee, and protects.
The wife, where danger or dishonour lurks,
Safest and seemliest by her husband stays,
Who guards her, or with her the worst endures.
To whom the ****** majesty of Eve,
As one who loves, and some unkindness meets,
With sweet austere composure thus replied.
Offspring of Heaven and Earth, and all Earth’s Lord!
That such an enemy we have, who seeks
Our ruin, both by thee informed I learn,
And from the parting Angel over-heard,
As in a shady nook I stood behind,
Just then returned at shut of evening flowers.
But, that thou shouldst my firmness therefore doubt
To God or thee, because we have a foe
May tempt it, I expected not to hear.
His violence thou fearest not, being such
As we, not capable of death or pain,
Can either not receive, or can repel.
His fraud is then thy fear; which plain infers
Thy equal fear, that my firm faith and love
Can by his fraud be shaken or seduced;
Thoughts, which how found they harbour in thy breast,
Adam, mis-thought of her to thee so dear?
To whom with healing words Adam replied.
Daughter of God and Man, immortal Eve!
For such thou art; from sin and blame entire:
Not diffident of thee do I dissuade
Thy absence from my sight, but to avoid
The attempt itself, intended by our foe.
For he who tempts, though in vain, at least asperses
The tempted with dishonour foul; supposed
Not incorruptible of faith, not proof
Against temptation: Thou thyself with scorn
And anger wouldst resent the offered wrong,
Though ineffectual found: misdeem not then,
If such affront I labour to avert
From thee alone, which on us both at once
The enemy, though bold, will hardly dare;
Or daring, first on me the assault shall light.
Nor thou his malice and false guile contemn;
Subtle he needs must be, who could ******
Angels; nor think superfluous other’s aid.
I, from the influence of thy looks, receive
Access in every virtue; in thy sight
More wise, more watchful, stronger, if need were
Of outward strength; while shame, thou looking on,
Shame to be overcome or over-reached,
Would utmost vigour raise, and raised unite.
Why shouldst not thou like sense within thee feel
When I am present, and thy trial choose
With me, best witness of thy virtue tried?
So spake domestick Adam in his care
And matrimonial love; but Eve, who thought
Less attributed to her faith sincere,
Thus her reply with accent sweet renewed.
If this be our condition, thus to dwell
In narrow circuit straitened by a foe,
Subtle or violent, we not endued
Single with like defence, wherever met;
How are we happy, still in fear of harm?
But harm precedes not sin: only our foe,
Tempting, affronts us with his foul esteem
Of our integrity: his foul esteem
Sticks no dishonour on our front, but turns
Foul on himself; then wherefore shunned or feared
By us? who rather double honour gain
From his surmise proved false; find peace within,
Favour from Heaven, our witness, from the event.
And what is faith, love, virtue, unassayed
Alone, without exteriour help sustained?
Let us not then suspect our happy state
Left so imperfect by the Maker wise,
As not secure to single or combined.
Frail is our happiness, if this be so,
And Eden were no Eden, thus exposed.
To whom thus Adam fervently replied.
O Woman, best are all things as the will
Of God ordained them: His creating hand
Nothing imperfect or deficient left
Of all that he created, much less Man,
Or aught that might his happy state secure,
Secure from outward force; within himself
The danger lies, yet lies within his power:
Against his will he can receive no harm.
But God left free the will; for what obeys
Reason, is free; and Reason he made right,
But bid her well be ware, and still *****;
Lest, by some fair-appearing good surprised,
She dictate false; and mis-inform the will
To do what God expressly hath forbid.
Not then mistrust, but tender love, enjoins,
That I should mind thee oft; and mind thou me.
Firm we subsist, yet possible to swerve;
Since Reason not impossibly may meet
Some specious object by the foe suborned,
And fall into deception unaware,
Not keeping strictest watch, as she was warned.
Seek not temptation then, which to avoid
Were better, and most likely if from me
Thou sever not: Trial will come unsought.
Wouldst thou approve thy constancy, approve
First thy obedience; the other who can know,
Not seeing thee attempted, who attest?
But, if thou think, trial unsought may find
Us both securer than thus warned thou seemest,
Go; for thy stay, not fre
Edward Laine Sep 2011
The old green door creaked when it opened. The same way it always did. The same old pitiful, sad sound it had made for years.
Sad because, like the rest of Jimmy's Bar it wouldn't be broken the way it was if someone would only take the time to fix it, in this case to grease the hinges, and then maybe the joint wouldn't be such a dive.
But that was the way it was, and the old green door pretty much summed up the whole place before you had even stepped in.

It was an everyday scene, this dreary November afternoon like any other: the glasses from the night(or nights) before were still stacked up on the far end of the bar, waiting to be washed, or just used again. The regulars, as they were known really didn't care if they were drinking out of a ***** glass or having a shot or a short out of a pint glass or beer or a stout or a bitter or an ale or a cider or even a water or milk(to wash down or soak up the days drinking) out of the same old ***** glass they had been drinking out of all week long.
Anyway, when the door creaked this time, it was old Tom Ashley that made it creak.
He shuffled in like the broken down bindle-stiff he was. Yawning like a lion and rubbing his unwashed hands on his four day beard. His grey hair as bed-headed and dishevelled as ever.  He was wearing the same crinkled-up blazer he always wore, tailor made some time in his youth but now in his advancing years was ill-fitting and torn at the shoulder, but still he wore a white flower in the lapel, and it didn't much matter that he had picked it from the side of the road, it helped to mask the smell of his unwashed body and whatever filth he had been stewing in his little down town room above the second hand book store. It wasn't much, but it suited him fine: the rent was cheap, and Chuck, the owner would let him borrow books two at a time, so long as he returned them in week, and he always did. He loved to read, and rumour had it, that a long time ago when he was in his twenties he had written a novel which had sold innumerable copies and made him a very wealthy man. The twist in the tale, went that he had written said novel under a pen name and no soul knew what it was, and when questioned he would neither confirm nor deny ever writing a book at all. It was some great secret, but after time people had ceased asking questions and stopped caring all together on the subject. All that anybody knew for sure was; he did not work and always had money to drink. It was his only great mystery.  T.S Eliot and Thomas Hardy were among his favourite writers. He had a great stack of unread books he had been saving in shoe box on his window sill. He called these his 'raining season'.

But for now, the arrangement with Chuck would suit him just fine.
He dragged his drunkards feet across the floor and over to the bar. All dark wood with four green velour upholstered bar stools, that of course, had seen better days too.
He put his hands flat on the bar, leaned back on his heels and ordered
a double Talisker in his most polite manner. He was a drunk, indeed but 'manners cost nothing'' he had said in the past. Grum, the bartender(his name was Graham, but in the long years of him working in the bar and
all the drunks slurring his name it gradually became Grum)smiled false heartedly, turned his back and whilst pouring old Toms whiskey into a brandy glass looked over his shoulder and said, ''so Mr. Ashley, how's
life treatin' ya'?'' Tom was looking at the floor or the window or the at the back of his eyelids and paid no attention to the barkeep. He was always
a little despondent before his first drink of the day. When Grum placed the drink on the bar he asked the same question again, and Tom, fumbling with his glass, simply murmured a monosyllabic reply that couldn't be understood with his mouth full of that first glug of sweet,
sweet whiskey he had been aching for. Then he looked up at tom with
big his shiney/glazed eyes, ''hey grum,
now that it is a fine whiskey, Robert Lewis Stevenson
used to drink this you know?'' Grum did know, Tom had told him this nearly every day for as long as he had been coming in the place, but
he nodded towards Tom and smiled acceptingly all the same. ''The king of drinks, as I conceive it, Talisker, he said'' Grum mouthed the words along with him,  caustically and half smiled at him again. Tom drained his glass and ordered another one of the same.

A few more drinks, a few hours and a few more drinks again
passed, Tom put them all on his tab like he always did. Grum,
nor the owner of the bar minded, he always paid his tab before
he stumbled home good and drunk and he didn’t cause too
much trouble apart from the odd argument with other customers
or staff but he never used his fists and he always knew when
he was beat In which case he would become very apologetic
and more often than not veer out of the bar back stepping
like a scared dog with his tail between his tattered trousers.
Drinking can make a cowardly man brave but not a smart
man dumb and Tom was indeed a smart man. Regardless
of what others might say. He was very articulate, well read
with a good head (jauntily perched) on his (crooked) shoulders.
By now it was getting late, Tom didn't know what time it was,
or couldn't figure out what time it was by simply looking at
the clock, the bar had one of those backwards clocks, I
don't know if you have ever seen one, the numbers run
anti-clockwise, which may not seem like much of task to
decipher I know, but believe me, if you are as drunk as tom
was by this point you really can not make head nor tails of
them. He knew it was getting late though as it was dark
outside and the  lamp posts were glowing their orange glow
through the window and the crack in the door. It was around
ten o’clock now and Tom had moved on to wine, he would
order a glass of Shiraz and say ''hey Grum, you know Hafez
used to drink this stuff, used to let it sit for forty days to achieve
a greater ''clarity of wine'' he called it, forty days!'' ''Mr Ashley''
said Grum looking up from wiping down the grimy bar and
now growing quite tired of the old man’s presence and what seemed
to be constant theories and facts of the various drinks he
was devouring, ''what are you rabbiting on about now, old
man?'' ''Hafez'' said old Tom ''he was a Persian poet from the
1300's as I recall... really quite good'', ''Well, Tom that is
truly fascinating, I must be sure to look in to him next time
I'm looking for fourteenth century poetry!'' said the barkeep,
mockingly. ''Good, good, be sure that you do'' Tom said,
taking a long ****-eyed slurp of his drink and not noticing
the sarcasm from the worn out bartender. He didn't mean
to poke fun at Tom he was anxious to get home to his wife
who he missed and longed to join, all alone in their warm
marital bed in the room upstairs. But Tom did not understand
this concept, he had never been married but had left a long
line of women behind him, loved and left in the tracks of his
vagabond youth, he had once been a good looking man a
''handsome devil'' confident and charming in all his wit and
literary references to poets of old he had memorised passages from ,Thoreau,Tennyson ,Byron, Frost etc. And more times
than not passed these passages of love and beauty off as
his own for the simple purpose of getting various now wooed
and wanting women up to his room. But now after  many
years of late nights, cigarettes and empty bottles cast aside
had taken their toll on him he spent his nights alone in his
cold single bed drunk and lonely with his only company being
once in a while a sad eyed dead eyed lady of the night, but
only very rarely would he give in to this temptation and it
always left him feeling hollow and more sober than he had
cared to be in many long years.
The bell rang last orders.
He ordered another drink, a Gin this time and as he took
the first sip, pleasingly, Grum stared at him with great open
eyes and his hand resting on his chin to animate how he
was waiting for the old man to state some worthless fact
about his new drink but the old man just sat there swaying
gently looking very glazed and just when the barkeep was
just about to blurt out his astonishment that Tom had noting
to say, old Tom Ashley, old drunk Tom took a deep breath
with his mouth wide, leaned back on his stool and said...
''hey, you know who used to drink gin? F. Scott Fitzgerald''
''really?'' said the barkeep snidely ''Oh yes'' said Tom
''The funny thing is Hemingway and all those old gents
used to tease Fitzgerald about his low tolerance, a real
light weight! He paused and took a sip ''but err, yes
he did like the odd glass of gin'' he said, mumbling
into the bottom of his glass.
Now, reaching the end of the night, the bartender
yawning, rubbing his eyes and the old man with
close to sixty pounds on his tab, sprawled across the
bar, spinning the last drop of his drink on the glasses
edge and seeming quite mesmerised by it and all its
holy splendour, he stopped and sat up right like a shot,
and looking quite sober now he shouted ''Grum,
Graham, hey, come here!'' the sleepy bartender was
sitting on a chair with his feet up on the bar, half asleep,
''Hey Graham, come here'' ''eh-ugh, what? What do you
want?'' said the barkeep sounding bemused and
in his waking state, ''just come over here will you,
the barkeep rolled off his chair sluggishly and slid
his feet across the floor towards the old man ''what is
it?'' he said scratching his head with his eyes still half
closed. The old man drowned what was left of his
drink and said ''I think I've had an epiphany, well err
well, more of a theory really w-well..'' he was stuttering
. ''oh yeah? And what would that be, Mr Ashley?'' said
the bartender, folding his arms in anticipation. ''pour
me another whiskey and I'll tell you''
''one mor... you must be kidding me, get the hell
out of here you old drunk we're closed!'' the old man
put his hands together as if in prayer and said in his
most sincere voice, '' oh please, Grum, just one more
for the road, I'll tell you my theory and then I'll be on
my way, OK?'' ''FINE, fine'' said Grum ''ONE more and
then you're GONE'' he walked over to the other side
of the bar poured a whiskey and another for himself.
''OK, here’s your drink old man, and I don't wanna
hear another of your ******* facts about writers
or poets or whoever OK?'' Tom snatched the drink of
the bar, ''OK, OK, I promise!'' he said. Tom took a slow
slurp at his drink and relaxed back in his seat and
sat quite, looking calm again.
The bartender sat staring at him, expecting the old
man to say something but he didn’t, he just sat there
on his stool, sipping his whiskey, Grum leaned forward
on the bar and with his nose nearly touching the old
mans, said ''SO? Out with it, what was this ****
theory I just HAD to hear?'' ''AH'' said the old man,
waving his index finger in the air, he looked down
into his breast pocket, pulled out a pack of cigarettes,
calmly took two out, handed one to the barkeep,
struck a match from his ***** finger nail, lit his own
the proceeded to light the barkeeps too.
Taking a long draw and now speaking with the blue
smoke pouring out his mouth said '' let me ask you a question''
... he paused, …  ''would agree that everybody
makes mistakes?'' the barkeep looked puzzled as to
where this was going but nodded and grunted a
''uh-hum'' ''well'' said the old man would you also
agree that everybody also learns... and continues
learning from their mistakes?'' again looking puzzled
but this time more  intrigued grunted the same ''uh-hum'' noise,
though this time a little more drawn out and
higher pitched and said ''where exactly are you going
with this?'' curiously.
''well..'' let me explain fully said Tom. He took another
pull on his cigarette and a sip on his drink, ''right,
my theory is: everybody keeps making mistakes, as
you agreed, this meaning that the whole world keeps
making mistakes too, and so the world keeps learning
from is mistakes, as you also agreed, with me so far?''
the barkeep nodded ''right'' Tom continued ''the world
keeps makiing and learning from its mistakes, my
theory is that one day, the world will have made so
many mistakes and learned from them all, so many
that there are no more mistakes to make, right? And
thus, with no mistakes left to learn from the word will
be all knowing and thus... PERFECT! Am I right? The
barkeep, now looking quite in awe and staring at his
cigarette smoke in the orange street light coming t
hrough the window, raised his glass and said quite
excitedly ''and when the world is then a perfect place
Jesus will return! Right?'' ''well Graham...'' said the old
man doubtingly ''I am in no way a religious man, but I
guess if that’s your thing then yes I guess you could be
right, yes''
He then drowned the rest of his whiskey in one giant
gulp, stubbed out his cigarette in the empty glass
and said ''now, I really must get going ,it really is getting quite
late'' and begun to walk towards the door. The
bartender hurried around the bar and grabbed Tom
by the arm,
'' you cant just leave now! We need to discuss this!
Please stay, we'll have another drink, on the house!''
''Now, now,Graham'' said the old man, ''we can discuss
this another night, I really must get to bed now'' he
walked over to the door, and just as his hand touched
the handle the barkeep stopped him again and said
quite hurriedly,'' but I need answers, how will I know
everything is going to be alight? You know PERFECT,
just like you said!'' the old man opened the door
slightly, turned around coolly and said ''now, don’t
worry yourself, I’m sure everything will turn out fine
and we’ll talk about it more tomorrow, OK?'' the
barkeep nodded acceptingly and held the door open
for the
old man, ''sure sure, OK'' he said ''tomorrow it is,
Mr Ashley''
Just as Tom was walking out the door he stopped
looked at the   barkeep with large grin on his face
and said very fast, as fast as he could ''you-know-an-interesting
-fact-about-whiskey-it-was -Dylan-Thomas'
-favourite-drink-in-fact-his-last-words-were -"I've-had-18
-straight-whiskeys......I-think-that's-the-record."­!! HAHA '' he
laughed almost uncontrollably. Graham the barkeep looked
at him with a smile of new found admiration and began to
close the door on him.
Just as the door was nearly shut, the old man stopped
more, pulled out a roll of money, looked in to the
eyes and put the money into his shirt pocket, then putting
his left hand on the bartenders shoulder said ''oh and
Grum, one of those great ol' women I let get away, once told ,me:
''if you are looking at the moon then,everything is alight'' and slapped
him lightly on the cheek.
. Then finally, pointing at the barkeeps shirt pocket said ''
for the bar tab'' then went spinning out the door way with
the grace of a ballroom dancer(rather than the old drunk
he had the reputation for being) and standing in the
orange glow of the street and seeing the look of sheer
wonderment on the bartenders face still standing in the
old green door way and shouted ''LOOK UP, THE MOON,
THE MOON!'' The barkeep, shaking his head and laughing,
peered his head out of the door and took a glance at the
moon and grinned widely then closed the old green door
for the night. It made the same old loud creak when he shut it.

David Huggett Oct 2012
At the edge of the Waterfall
My motor gone the boat drifted faster and faster.
At the edge of the waterfall as I approached the falls
helpless hopeless I thought of my life subsiding
to words and no friend message or hopes to send my life
summed to press me quickly but no time for tears in my eye
I am afraid for soon I may die.
But what the hell I lived a good life everything
I wanted with very little strife.
What may lie at the bottom of the falls as I drift closer to the edge.
The tension grows it may all soon an I suppose
I think back to a time when everything was so sublime
and peaceful and free.
I know its time so please lord take me
I will be pleased to meet you and gaze upon
your face I will know that I with your heavenly grace.
So over the edge I fall and fall and fall.
I thank you lord it is over That's all.
So the paramedic says you're lucky to be alive so somethings
glimmers inside my head with St Peter Jesus and God
I'd be better off dead.
For I have a broken pelvis and life will be full of pain.
So St Peter Jesus and God do look fine.
Check with me at a later date, some other time.

to see the video
Shashank Virkud May 2012
Songster, not as sinister as they say,
she's no monster, just admittedly
a bit lost in her way.
she caves as I'm walking
down the hall.

I pick her up, off of that flooring,
the rubbery kind, whatever it is,
I guess it's rubber, but the kind that
squeaks when you walk on it after
coming in from the rain; to hell with poetry.

And so anyways I pick her up
and sit her on this bench next to me
and give her about five minutes to come to
terms with breathing and pick shimmering
auburn hair out of the tears smeared across her face,
two, mesmerizing, perfectly blue wells
the source of the streams.
And then I ask her what that
was all about and she blurts out that she

belongs in the Fine Arts Department,
and her car broke down months ago
but her father
doesn't give a **** about it,
because she can't lay up the basketball
or steal the base and so he honorably
lump summed her entire tuition
and sent her to another state
and how ****** she would be
if she had to get a job for the first
time at the age of twenty three
so she wouldn't have to be
dependent on her family and
that she was sick of wondering why
not a single guy had ever given her
a ******* flower
and that if she ever did end up liking one
two weeks later she would find out that he
was exactly the same as the others and

she had a broken look in her eyes

when she said she wondered why we were
all here in the first place, and how we were
made this way, and if people were actually
ever meant to fit together or not;

what if there was nothing as certain
as two halves making a whole?

She wanted to know how everyone's
mind had a different game to play,
she wanted to know why Jupiter
had to be so far away and everything in

We had strolled off of the school grounds by
this time but I still looked twice before pulling out my flask.
I  unscrewed the cap, handed it to her and said

follow me to Deadbeat Hollow,
where we've already thrown
our problems out of the window

and she said

*lets go.
Jessica Nichole Oct 2011
Family road trip
Live rooster in the freezer
Surreal funeral.
Edwin F Lopez Jan 2013
Fate, the explanation for many circumstances
The reason we meet our love,
The thing that made us succeed or fail.
Such adored is this word.

                                                          ­                                                                 ­  Only to ponder and figure
               It is only a complex equation.
      An unknown set of variables
               Making the possibilities for every event.

                                                         Just one variable may cancel another
                           Most of the variables may be overlooked or just ignored.
                                                Just do the algorithm and see what it means,
        You will see how the other side of the equation might be imaginary
                                           The constant will always remain in the formula
                                                         ­                                                                 ­       So which variable is the one
      That when summed makes the equation a true statement?
             The one variable that makes it all right?
                     When will this variable be revealed?
                                  When will the solution be in the palm of my hands?
                            How many variables must I remove from this equation,
                       To find the one that matters?

When you look at it I may be a simple algebraic equation,
Or it may be a complex duodecimal polynomial.
I'm not going to give up solving it,
But I'm getting a headache from it and I love math!
Avarious Ignis Ragnarok 010813
Shawn Jan 2011
Small talk is much more of the former than the latter,
small, definitely,
but I've rarely, ever, talked.

My favourite?
"How Are You?"
As if the true gauge of such a complex question
can be summed up in a random stop and chat.

My response?
"not bad",
or something similar no doubt,
but sometimes,
I feel like being honest...


i feel like boo radley in a town full of atticus,
feel like i deserve no more than the back of the bus,
feel like every single word that i say,
is another cliche, just another cliche,

feel completely silent, scream with no effect,
hope to find a true meaning, it still hasn't happened yet,
feel divided, from this joke we partake in,
where every single victory, is simply, a fake win,

why is nostalgia the only feeling that's appealing?
back when inadequacies weren't worth concealing,
that's all i cherish, that's all i want now,
and instead i'm standing here, and you're wondering how...
am i?

“...How Are You?!”

when fate's gentle whisper turns into a scream,
and crashing down come all of your dreams,
a roaring tide from what once was a stream,
tell me, is everything as lost as it seems?

"when one door closes, another one opens!",
that's nonsense,
i'm staring at a one-sided peephole, hoping,  
that the people that said they would help,
and forgot,
truly feel how the hell i've felt.

...that's how i am.
Copyright SMK 2007
GreenTrees Jul 2018
That's how she described me, to me.

You are 95 percent perfect.

Loving and kind.

Generous and attentive.

I am always on your mind.

Artistic and hard to find.

Hard working and Inventive.

Your love making is sublime.

But the church remained quiet, no wedding bells to chime.

And now I think the only thing left of me, that is me, raw and un-refined?

Can be summed up in the most extraordinary Five.

Karl von Mecklenburg
Nicole Dawn May 2015
I believe that,
Human wisdom
Can be summed up in one phrase:
"Full moon"
You can never see the moon "in full,"
Only half of it.
It's like,
When someone says,
"You have my full trust and devotion."
But that's only true,
Until someone better than you
Comes along to,
Give their "full" trust and devotion to.
And anyway,
The moon is never "full"
Very long either.
Lunar Jul 2014
Once upon a time,
in a land faraway,
lived an Oreo biscuit.

Everyone judged him--
he was black on the outside,
and white on the in.
He thought he would
never ever fit in.

Now in that land of biscuits,
where most were brown,
they all thought Oreo's
the strangest in town.

But little did they know
he was the favorite of the lot.
For in the human world,
his kind was the most bought.

Everyone learned to love him,
even the Fita guy.
But he told Oreo,
"Don't trust humans;
you won't want to know why."

But the Oreo boy,
he was a curious one.
He thought he needed to enjoy,
go out and have fun.

Later that night,
someone grabbed him, behold--
fear glazed over Oreo's eyes
over what he was told.

He was twisted and dunked
in milk till he drowned.
Then broken forever
and his life was summed.

For whatever Fita said,
it became so true.
Whatever happened to Oreo
Hopefully, won't happen to you.
Hello. And I yet again unleashed my sadistic humor unto my favorite biscuit. Sorry about that. I was thinking of my eating Oreo as killing him :/ tragic, I know.

And yet a lesson is still learned: You can't trust anyone all the tine just because they claim to love you.
The Barrister's Dream

They sought it with thimbles, they sought it with care;
They pursued it with forks and hope;
They threatened its life with a railway-share;
They charmed it with smiles and soap.
But the Barrister, weary of proving in vain
That the ******'s lace-making was wrong,
Fell asleep, and in dreams saw the creature quite plain
That his fancy had dwelt on so long.

He dreamed that he stood in a shadowy Court,
Where the Snark, with a glass in its eye,
Dressed in gown, bands, and wig, was defending a pig
On the charge of deserting its sty.

The Witnesses proved, without error or flaw,
That the sty was deserted when found:
And the Judge kept explaining the state of the law
In a soft under-current of sound.

The indictment had never been clearly expressed,
And it seemed that the Snark had begun,
And had spoken three hours, before any one guessed
What the pig was supposed to have done.

The Jury had each formed a different view
(Long before the indictment was read),
And they all spoke at once, so that none of them knew
One word that the others had said.

"You must know--" said the Judge: but the Snark exclaimed "Fudge!"
That statute is obsolete quite!
Let me tell you, my friends, the whole question depends
On an ancient manorial right.

"In the matter of Treason the pig would appear
To have aided, but scarcely abetted:
While the charge of Insolvency fails, it is clear,
If you grant the plea 'never indebted'.

"The fact of Desertion I will not dispute:
But its guilt, as I trust, is removed
(So far as relates to the costs of this suit)
By the Alibi which has been proved.

"My poor client's fate now depends on your votes."
Here the speaker sat down in his place,
And directed the Judge to refer to his notes
And briefly to sum up the case.

But the Judge said he never had summed up before;
So the Snark undertook it instead,
And summed it so well that it came to far more
Than the Witnesses ever had said!

When the verdict was called for, the Jury declined,
As the word was so puzzling to spell;
But they ventured to hope that the Snark wouldn't mind
Undertaking that duty as well.

So the Snark found the verdict, although, as it owned,
It was spent with the toils of the day:
When it said the word "GUILTY!" the Jury all groaned
And some of them fainted away.

Then the Snark pronounced sentence, the Judge being quite
Too nervous to utter a word:
When it rose to its feet, there was silence like night,
And the fall of a pin might be heard.

"Transportation for life" was the sentence it gave,
"And then to be fined forty pound."
The Jury all cheered, though the Judge said he feared
That the phrase was not legally sound.

But their wild exultation was suddenly checked
When the jailer informed them, with tears,
Such a sentence would not have the slightest effect,
As the pig had been dead for some years.

The Judge left the Court, looking deeply disgusted
But the Snark, though a little aghast,
As the lawyer to whom the defence was intrusted,
Went bellowing on to the last.

Thus the Barrister dreamed, while the bellowing seemed
To grow every moment more clear:
Till he woke to the knell of a furious bell,
Which the Bellman rang close at his ear.
HS Edwards Feb 2015
Life is so simple that it can be summed up in one word: complicated.
Luke R E Webster Aug 2012
A figure of eight,
wonders through her mind,
accepts that through this spate
children are for all time.

a mum, a chef
a carer of children too
with love intense
brings light to all that do.

"Family before Friends"
This is the mantra
that she lives to.
Always makes amends
to the family
she has knew.

Her Husband, Her Sons,
Her Daughters, Her Love
All of this is summed up
in the quality of her stew.
A light hearted one about my mummy, 'Cause I Am a mummy's boy :P
JG Fletcher Jun 2015
So at that very moment
That very instance
Time was enclosed
Produced on film
Black and white
From an antique rolleiflex

Obsolete in nature
Yet, oddly charming
And on that very parchment
Time was encapsulated
Stored for reminiscing

This picture is not worth
        a       thousand      words
Only a simple phrase
             that  summed    up
    fractions of a second
Time was frozen
To a terrific photograph
From an antique rolleiflex
my worth cannot be measured in poundsinchesorounces
& all that i am is neither reflected, nor summed up by a number sewn into
a pair of jeans--
hi, my name is Ashley, real swell person. future midwife, Scorpio, size 14.

Days in dressing rooms under poor lighting
when those size 14s feel a little too tight make my day into a battle
& if my being makes men cringe
then I will stuff my face in rebellion
if my body is under social seige, i welcome it with a smile
Because battalions of words cannot compare to the cannon
fire of insecurity
and trigger pulling i've had in my head for 14 years
we fat girls are really good at these sort of days because
we're good at insulting ourselves first.
Serebral Spring Oct 2014
The Oppression of my people
can not be summed up in one word

A word that flies
Flies like a hummingbird

He eats soup
As I cry

he prays
As I sigh

You Do not KNOW ME
You only know my struggle

How Dare You come to me?
In your time of Need.

You need a fixin?
God Bless Juan Dixon.
SLAM poetry.
Christopher Lowe Dec 2014
Venomous sentiment
and perilous arrogance
Living in a world
Filled with detriment elegance
Where Selfishness is just
Another prerequisite
Summed up in a word
I, who erewhile the happy Garden sung
By one man’s disobedience lost, now sing
Recovered Paradise to all mankind,
By one man’s firm obedience fully tried
Through all temptation, and the Tempter foiled
In all his wiles, defeated and repulsed,
And Eden raised in the waste Wilderness.
  Thou Spirit, who led’st this glorious Eremite
Into the desert, his victorious field
Against the spiritual foe, and brought’st him thence        
By proof the undoubted Son of God, inspire,
As thou art wont, my prompted song, else mute,
And bear through highth or depth of Nature’s bounds,
With prosperous wing full summed, to tell of deeds
Above heroic, though in secret done,
And unrecorded left through many an age:
Worthy to have not remained so long unsung.
  Now had the great Proclaimer, with a voice
More awful than the sound of trumpet, cried
Repentance, and Heaven’s kingdom nigh at hand              
To all baptized.  To his great baptism flocked
With awe the regions round, and with them came
From Nazareth the son of Joseph deemed
To the flood Jordan—came as then obscure,
Unmarked, unknown.  But him the Baptist soon
Descried, divinely warned, and witness bore
As to his worthier, and would have resigned
To him his heavenly office.  Nor was long
His witness unconfirmed: on him baptized
Heaven opened, and in likeness of a Dove                    
The Spirit descended, while the Father’s voice
From Heaven pronounced him his beloved Son.
That heard the Adversary, who, roving still
About the world, at that assembly famed
Would not be last, and, with the voice divine
Nigh thunder-struck, the exalted man to whom
Such high attest was given a while surveyed
With wonder; then, with envy fraught and rage,
Flies to his place, nor rests, but in mid air
To council summons all his mighty Peers,                    
Within thick clouds and dark tenfold involved,
A gloomy consistory; and them amidst,
With looks aghast and sad, he thus bespake:—
  “O ancient Powers of Air and this wide World
(For much more willingly I mention Air,
This our old conquest, than remember Hell,
Our hated habitation), well ye know
How many ages, as the years of men,
This Universe we have possessed, and ruled
In manner at our will the affairs of Earth,                
Since Adam and his facile consort Eve
Lost Paradise, deceived by me, though since
With dread attending when that fatal wound
Shall be inflicted by the seed of Eve
Upon my head.  Long the decrees of Heaven
Delay, for longest time to Him is short;
And now, too soon for us, the circling hours
This dreaded time have compassed, wherein we
Must bide the stroke of that long-threatened wound
(At least, if so we can, and by the head                    
Broken be not intended all our power
To be infringed, our freedom and our being
In this fair empire won of Earth and Air)—
For this ill news I bring: The Woman’s Seed,
Destined to this, is late of woman born.
His birth to our just fear gave no small cause;
But his growth now to youth’s full flower, displaying
All virtue, grace and wisdom to achieve
Things highest, greatest, multiplies my fear.
Before him a great Prophet, to proclaim                    
His coming, is sent harbinger, who all
Invites, and in the consecrated stream
Pretends to wash off sin, and fit them so
Purified to receive him pure, or rather
To do him honour as their King.  All come,
And he himself among them was baptized—
Not thence to be more pure, but to receive
The testimony of Heaven, that who he is
Thenceforth the nations may not doubt.  I saw
The Prophet do him reverence; on him, rising                
Out of the water, Heaven above the clouds
Unfold her crystal doors; thence on his head
A perfet Dove descend (whate’er it meant);
And out of Heaven the sovraign voice I heard,
‘This is my Son beloved,—in him am pleased.’
His mother, than, is mortal, but his Sire
He who obtains the monarchy of Heaven;
And what will He not do to advance his Son?
His first-begot we know, and sore have felt,
When his fierce thunder drove us to the Deep;              
Who this is we must learn, for Man he seems
In all his lineaments, though in his face
The glimpses of his Father’s glory shine.
Ye see our danger on the utmost edge
Of hazard, which admits no long debate,
But must with something sudden be opposed
(Not force, but well-couched fraud, well-woven snares),
Ere in the head of nations he appear,
Their king, their leader, and supreme on Earth.
I, when no other durst, sole undertook                      
The dismal expedition to find out
And ruin Adam, and the exploit performed
Successfully: a calmer voyage now
Will waft me; and the way found prosperous once
Induces best to hope of like success.”
  He ended, and his words impression left
Of much amazement to the infernal crew,
Distracted and surprised with deep dismay
At these sad tidings.  But no time was then
For long indulgence to their fears or grief:                
Unanimous they all commit the care
And management of this man enterprise
To him, their great Dictator, whose attempt
At first against mankind so well had thrived
In Adam’s overthrow, and led their march
From Hell’s deep-vaulted den to dwell in light,
Regents, and potentates, and kings, yea gods,
Of many a pleasant realm and province wide.
So to the coast of Jordan he directs
His easy steps, girded with snaky wiles,                    
Where he might likeliest find this new-declared,
This man of men, attested Son of God,
Temptation and all guile on him to try—
So to subvert whom he suspected raised
To end his reign on Earth so long enjoyed:
But, contrary, unweeting he fulfilled
The purposed counsel, pre-ordained and fixed,
Of the Most High, who, in full frequence bright
Of Angels, thus to Gabriel smiling spake:—
  “Gabriel, this day, by proof, thou shalt behold,          
Thou and all Angels conversant on Earth
With Man or men’s affairs, how I begin
To verify that solemn message late,
On which I sent thee to the ****** pure
In Galilee, that she should bear a son,
Great in renown, and called the Son of God.
Then told’st her, doubting how these things could be
To her a ******, that on her should come
The Holy Ghost, and the power of the Highest
O’ershadow her.  This Man, born and now upgrown,            
To shew him worthy of his birth divine
And high prediction, henceforth I expose
To Satan; let him tempt, and now assay
His utmost subtlety, because he boasts
And vaunts of his great cunning to the throng
Of his Apostasy.  He might have learnt
Less overweening, since he failed in Job,
Whose constant perseverance overcame
Whate’er his cruel malice could invent.
He now shall know I can produce a man,                      
Of female seed, far abler to resist
All his solicitations, and at length
All his vast force, and drive him back to Hell—
Winning by conquest what the first man lost
By fallacy surprised.  But first I mean
To exercise him in the Wilderness;
There he shall first lay down the rudiments
Of his great warfare, ere I send him forth
To conquer Sin and Death, the two grand foes.
By humiliation and strong sufferance                        
His weakness shall o’ercome Satanic strength,
And all the world, and mass of sinful flesh;
That all the Angels and aethereal Powers—
They now, and men hereafter—may discern
From what consummate virtue I have chose
This perfet man, by merit called my Son,
To earn salvation for the sons of men.”
  So spake the Eternal Father, and all Heaven
Admiring stood a space; then into hymns
Burst forth, and in celestial measures moved,              
Circling the throne and singing, while the hand
Sung with the voice, and this the argument:—
  “Victory and triumph to the Son of God,
Now entering his great duel, not of arms,
But to vanquish by wisdom hellish wiles!
The Father knows the Son; therefore secure
Ventures his filial virtue, though untried,
Against whate’er may tempt, whate’er ******,
Allure, or terrify, or undermine.
Be frustrate, all ye stratagems of Hell,                    
And, devilish machinations, come to nought!”
  So they in Heaven their odes and vigils tuned.
Meanwhile the Son of God, who yet some days
Lodged in Bethabara, where John baptized,
Musing and much revolving in his breast
How best the mighty work he might begin
Of Saviour to mankind, and which way first
Publish his godlike office now mature,
One day forth walked alone, the Spirit leading
And his deep thoughts, the better to converse              
With solitude, till, far from track of men,
Thought following thought, and step by step led on,
He entered now the bordering Desert wild,
And, with dark shades and rocks environed round,
His holy meditations thus pursued:—
  “O what a multitude of thoughts at once
Awakened in me swarm, while I consider
What from within I feel myself, and hear
What from without comes often to my ears,
Ill sorting with my present state compared!                
When I was yet a child, no childish play
To me was pleasing; all my mind was set
Serious to learn and know, and thence to do,
What might be public good; myself I thought
Born to that end, born to promote all truth,
All righteous things.  Therefore, above my years,
The Law of God I read, and found it sweet;
Made it my whole delight, and in it grew
To such perfection that, ere yet my age
Had measured twice six years, at our great Feast            
I went into the Temple, there to hear
The teachers of our Law, and to propose
What might improve my knowledge or their own,
And was admired by all.  Yet this not all
To which my spirit aspired.  Victorious deeds
Flamed in my heart, heroic acts—one while
To rescue Israel from the Roman yoke;
Then to subdue and quell, o’er all the earth,
Brute violence and proud tyrannic power,
Till truth were freed, and equity restored:                
Yet held it more humane, more heavenly, first
By winning words to conquer willing hearts,
And make persuasion do the work of fear;
At least to try, and teach the erring soul,
Not wilfully misdoing, but unware
Misled; the stubborn only to subdue.
These growing thoughts my mother soon perceiving,
By words at times cast forth, inly rejoiced,
And said to me apart, ‘High are thy thoughts,
O Son! but nourish them, and let them soar                  
To what highth sacred virtue and true worth
Can raise them, though above example high;
By matchless deeds express thy matchless Sire.
For know, thou art no son of mortal man;
Though men esteem thee low of parentage,
Thy Father is the Eternal King who rules
All Heaven and Earth, Angels and sons of men.
A messenger from God foretold thy birth
Conceived in me a ******; he foretold
Thou shouldst be great, and sit on David’s throne,          
And of thy kingdom there should be no end.
At thy nativity a glorious quire
Of Angels, in the fields of Bethlehem, sung
To shepherds, watching at their folds by night,
And told them the Messiah now was born,
Where they might see him; and to thee they came,
Directed to the manger where thou lay’st;
For in the inn was left no better room.
A Star, not seen before, in heaven appearing,
Guided the Wise Men thither from the East,                  
To honour thee with incense, myrrh, and gold;
By whose bright course led on they found the place,
Affirming it thy star, new-graven in heaven,
By which they knew thee King of Israel born.
Just Simeon and prophetic Anna, warned
By vision, found thee in the Temple, and spake,
Before the altar and the vested priest,
Like things of thee to all that present stood.’
This having heart, straight I again revolved
The Law and Prophets, searching what was writ              
Concerning the Messiah, to our scribes
Known partly, and soon found of whom they spake
I am—this chiefly, that my way must lie
Through many a hard assay, even to the death,
Ere I the promised kingdom can attain,
Or work redemption for mankind, whose sins’
Full weight must be transferred upon my head.
Yet, neither thus disheartened or dismayed,
The time prefixed I waited; when behold
The Baptist (of whose birth I oft had heard,                
Not knew by sight) now come, who was to come
Before Messiah, and his way prepare!
I, as all others, to his baptism came,
Which I believed was from above; but he
Straight knew me, and with loudest voice proclaimed
Me him (for it was shewn him so from Heaven)—
Me him whose harbinger he was; and first
Refused on me his baptism to confer,
As much his greater, and was hardly won.
But, as I rose out of the laving stream,                    
Heaven opened her eternal doors, from whence
The Spirit descended on me like a Dove;
And last, the sum of all, my Father’s voice,
Audibly heard from Heaven, pronounced me his,
Me his beloved Son, in whom alone
He was well pleased: by which I knew the time
Now full, that I no more should live obscure,
But openly begin, as best becomes
The authority which I derived from Heaven.
And now by some strong motion I am led                      
Into this wilderness; to what intent
I learn not yet.  Perhaps I need not know;
For what concerns my knowledge God reveals.”
  So spake our Morning Star, then in his rise,
And, looking round, on every side beheld
A pathless desert, dusk with horrid shades.
The way he came, not having marked return,
Was difficult, by human steps untrod;
And he still on was led, but with such thoughts
Accompanied of things past and to come                      
Lodged in his breast as well might recommend
Such solitude before choicest society.
  Full forty days he passed—whether on hill
Sometimes, anon in shady vale, each night
Under the covert of some ancient oak
Or cedar to defend him from the dew,
Or harboured
Sometimes Ally Dec 2014
even as the night turns to day
and all my sorrows have been washed away
i still miss you
there are days when i'm fine
and days when i'm in a haze
but it can all be summed up by one phrase
i still miss you
my poetry grows sadder as the months drag on
it's on to get a grip on the fact that you're really gone
i still miss you
i want you back, as selfish as it may seem
without my daddy here i've lost any trace of self-esteem
god ******, i still miss you
i know that i will see again
but until that day
i have to keep asking my 'when?'
until the day i know die
i know that
*i'll always miss you
in loving memory of my stepdad, 1958-2014
M Violante Nov 2011
I’ve summed up the equation for my isolation
It's People who look up, look down, left and right
Desperate for information
We never looked inside for much needed inspiration
We lead a life of impulsive behavior mixed with preoccupation for our own reputation
I've lost toleration for the weak minded population
Individual thoughts slowly decay and eventually cut off circulation
Sending thoughts on permanent vacation, worthy of respiration, ideas now suffer suffocation
If this is my "generation"
I’d rather live in hibernation
You can take this as retaliation
I just don’t understand why we seek gratification for having no imagination?
I swear,
It’s like the world around me is nothing more Than telecommunication
Different voices yet the same conversation
Broad interpretation leaves room for destructive *******
Shedding uniqueness for trendy consolidation
Who the **** do you think you are? a star?
You're no constellation
You expel no illumination
Your personality is a narrow cultivation of
Seedy corporation,
Media publication,
And lack of moral stabilization
Let me give you clarification
Meditation is my detonation
Put words in your mouth before you die of starvation
We all have a fixation on giving into temptation
Putting ourselves in situations were
Passion is stimulation,
Trust is manipulation and
Love is *******
Pour out your heartache in perspiration
After ******* we expect a standing ovation
*** is nothing more than sensation
**....are we lost beyond the point of navigation?
Sun cascading through the window,
The Mountains my blanket
Everything in its right place, and I in mine
For surely life is a wonderful thing
and I am no mistake.

Can a person be defined by a word? Can we, in reality chain a person to one word, or even a great sum of words? Can all that is encompassed within each individual human being, be summed up with a word, a description, a label? For the very meaning of word is a unit of language, consisting of one or more spoken sounds or their written representation, that functions as a principal carrier of meaning. Are words the most effective "carrier of meaning"? Or is it possible that there might just be something more, something deeper? This makes me think of the quote from The Mozart Effect, where Don Cambell says, “On the psychiatrist’s couch, the board of the local PTA, or at a job interview, we strive to assert our identity as strong, independent persons, our persona or public mask—all from the Greek roots per son, or ‘the sound passes through.’” Our very core nature is that we desire to hear a vocal confirmation of who we are and labeling ourselves and others with words, gives us a false security. The way we are labeled and seen and judged passes through us, it effects us to our core. When someone “fails” they are then in turn labeled a “failure”? My question is, by labeling a person who has made mistakes, or is even continuing to make mistakes a f a i l u r e , are we really encompassing all that is within them when we say the word “failure” and chain it around their neck? Is every action that they have done a “failure”? Do they not also have things that are successful about them, and isn’t simply their state of being a success?

I am convinced that we are all on the same level, one person no greater than another person. No person a mistake, no person a failure. For let us all challenge ourselves to not define people but rather feel them, seek to understand them. Let us really see them, for who they are, not for who we think they are or what we may see. Like the quote from T.S Elliot’s book Family Reunion, where it says
“I tell you, it is not me you are looking at, Not me you are grinning at, not me your confidential looks incriminate, but that other person, if person, You thought I was: let your necrophilia feed upon that carcass.”

Or the quote from the Invisible Man,
“I am an invisible man. No, I am not a ***** like those who haunted Edgar Allan Poe; nor am I one of your Hollywood-movie ectoplasm. I am a man of substance, of flesh and bone, fiber and liquids- and I might even be said to posses a mind. I am invisible; understand, simply because people refuse to see me. Like the bodiless head surrounded by mirrors of hard, distorting glass. When they approach me they see only my surroundings, themselves, or figments of their imagination-indeed, everything and anything except me.”

These are both excellent examples of how our own judgments, preoccupation with our problems or ourselves, anything and everything, can distract us from really getting to know someone, to understanding them in the cell of their heart. For if we were silent and simply allowed the music of life surround us, we would listen and hear, the people when they spoke. For “to listen is to vibrate together with another human being.” And how eloquently Lao Tzu said that, I can’t think of a better way to describe what I am trying to say. What a provocative way to think about the simple act of listening. Think of feeling what people are saying as two harps being played in perfect unison, vibrating together. To really hear someone we must reach a place where we can be receptive to whom they really are, throwing aside our preconceived ideas.

How could we take the sacred and beautiful act of listening and distort it into something that is so uninvolved, so impersonal? How can we, how can I, constantly throw away the precious gem that is to listen, only to pick up the garbage of judgment and lack of concern? I’m convinced that constantly doing this has left quite a toll on the human race. When was the last time you felt that someone got you, really got you, or saw past your flaws or the masks you wear and simply heard you, felt your pain, knew where you were coming from, simply was just there with you? Chances are it’s probably not often. I believe that no matter the outward appearance or what people do that it’s the state of their heart that matters. We are all fallible because we are h u m a n, so when people in their own state of humanity, hurt us, let us choose not to take offence, but rather choose to see past our own pain and see their own pain that caused them to hurt us.

I believe there is beauty in our shortcomings, and humanity. Not that we continue to remain the way we’ve always been but rather accept that we are flawed and that can’t do this on our own, and then we will begin to grow. In our state of being humbled and broken, we grow, we change, we transform. Slowly and surely as the flower that springs from the cold ground and bursts forth from it’s shell and becomes something completely different, we as humans will break through our own “shells”. First we must admit that we have flaws for this process to begin. Being flawed is beautiful because it’s something everyone shares. We’ve all been hurt, but once we come to the place where we understand the pain behind the flaws and see how we can’t possibly judge anyone because we all have flaws, we all have failed.

We are all equals. We are all connected. We are all sons and daughters of humanity. We are connected to the earliest of times and the latest of times.

What happens to someone on the other side of the earth does in fact, effect us. I believe because we are numb to the reality of that connection, never listening, never feeling, that we miss the beauty of this great fellowship of human beings. When we isolate ourselves, not only are we denying ourselves that desire to b e l o n g that dwells in our innermost being, but we also can begin to elevate ourselves over another person. Which leaves me to wonder why we spend our lives awarding ourselves for being better then the person next to us, not doing what they did, when shouldn’t we be listening to them, hearing them, seeing them for who they are in their own brokenness, and helping them through?

We spend our lives harboring anger towards and event, person, or even ourselves and judging and comparing ourselves on a made up idealistic scale to define our worth. We are already worth so much simply because we are humans, and we are alive. Is not even a single rose still admired by the gardener? We are special, and if someone were to bring all the wealth of the world to offer for one person, or to measure the worth of that person, it would not even begin to compare to our worth, no matter our mistakes or who we are.

Just as we hurt and long to be accepted and approved of, so does the person that has hurt you or the person you see yourself as better then. Do we not feel our connection to humanity when we feel the sense of deep loss in our spirit, our innermost being, when our actions cause pain to another person? So since we are all one, all connected, why not shower people with love and grace and feel them, feel with them, instead of labeling them and trying to judge ourselves against them.

We have exhausted ourselves by denying ourselves the basic needs to be known, loved, heard, connected, and accepted, for far too long. It’s time for change, in both my life and the lives of those around me. We’re beaten and bruised from holding on to our anger, relentlessly trying to gain approval, judging our own mistakes and comparing them to others to see if our mistakes were ‘slightly less bad then those of the other person’. If we would set aside those chains that imprison us, and allow ourselves to feel the pain of others, allow them to see our own pain, then, although we will never reach perfection, we will grow, the deep yearnings and aches of our body crying out to be known and our pain from the wrongs done to us will stop.

If we’re willing to bare the burden of feeling with someone, or simply allowing ourselves to just be, exist, beside someone who’s hurting and be open to simply let the sound, the vibrations of their words penetrate our souls, then, and only then will our lives and the lives of others be drastically changed for the better. It would be infectious; spreading to every person we came into contact with, causing a worldwide revolution.

So what I’m saying is even after all this, I believe in changed lives, I believe that our impact on others is far greater then we will ever know.I believe that one single person, no matter how flawed, who stops for one moment and simply listens to another human being, and sees them as they are, then proceeds to reach inside their chest to reveal their beating, heart, alive and full of dreams, will change that person forever, whether we see it right away or never see it. It's the same in our lives, we may never see the fruits of our labor, but we must focus on the goal and not the distance needed to reach our goal. We impact people. When we judge people or don’t see them for who they are, they become dead to us, they can no longer change into who they were meant to be, or we simply do not hear them, the passions and dreams are not awakened, and in doing this, we are robbing ourselves the joy of knowing someone, investing in them, and seeing them change and they feel the effects too.

We all need to be awakened from being the living dead, to a state of constant awareness of our body and all our senses and the surroundings around us, the people around us. People as a whole are hurting so deeply, and I believe that one person can in fact change that. All it takes is one [broken] person to spark the flame and soon, others, much like kindling for a fire, will catch ablaze. I believe, that we must allow ourselves to climb into another person’s skin and feel, and see the world as they do.

We must realize that we are no better then one another, for we are all broken and need one another. I believe that no one is hopeless, no one a lost cause, for if we take the time to listen to them and care for them, something in them will change no matter what we may see on the outside. In this investing and caring, listening and feeling, seeing and believing, we will awaken in both the people around us and in ourselves the dreams which we thought for so long to be dead, and the world will see change like it has never been seen before in history.

I’m not saying that I have any of this down pat, I’m not by any means a model for not judging someone and seeing them and hearing them. If anything, I am the complete opposite of this consumed in my own problems and too busy to stop and feel. This is my apology of some sort to those i have hurt, and giving recognition to those who have helped me along the way. So thanks for believing in me. I believe that it’ll take some time, but that I can and will gradually change into someone who is aware of people around them, someone who is awakened. Even when my actions, are completely opposite of everything I’ve just talked about, there is still a part of me that is quietly reminding me to humble myself and see myself for who I am, no more, no less, and then see others for who they are. Somehow, I’m going to get to where I want to go, and I’m going to become who I want to become, I just have a lot of judgmental ideals, preconceived ideas, bitterness, pain, and self-absorption to leave behind to step into who I want to become. So I’m going to commit to this journey even if it means sometimes the only thing I can do is just be, in my failures and my success, and even when the pain seems unbearable, it is my deepest desire to stay on this path. I want to change and help the people around me, but before I can do that I have a lot of work to do.
This looks much better when it's formatted, I didn't have the time to go through and make everything look "pretty." If you want to view this when it's formatted go here..
mc6lm Aug 2015

We sit here in a drawn out mystery, but we live this movie;
This end, when it arrives.
We have the joy to overcome the night
And our hands reaching for light
We can be whatever we wish; the dream not true.
So it seems so clever to disguise,
The wishing well has been wrung dry,
And we haven't any more life to dream about; we live now inside.

We sit alone together,
And sit together alone,
But it didn't have to be this way
If we had walked the paths most popular.
We talk to ourselves; together.

So it seems so daring and fine,
A fable passed down from time.
Like you, we have fumbled with honesty,
Like you, we never believed,
But when you see this free...
And fly this clear...

We sit alone together,
And sit together alone,
We talk to ourselves; together.

The Day

Nothing to prove, time slowly crawling into my veins,
My lips touch the smoke exiting my mouth,
Morning dew you are I see, Wondering just what is inside of me,
We can joke now about last's our job.

Can you feel it?
Wave goodbye for the night never knows if it lives only once.
Can you see her? Pale perfection, nothing more.
It's all coming back later, so don't you worry about little insignificances and mistakes you made.
You haven't made any mistakes this far;
Can you feel it?

Why don't you show me the way, show me the day;
I've never aged any other way than how I know.

I can feel the power flowing from my closest,
The nearest thing to me is one inside itself.
Me, what I've done, cannot be summed.

Soon as day grows weary, Soon as time closes shop,
The infinite dreams lie ahead.
Over the horizon, it's coming soon;
Can you feel it?

What could happen? What will become of tonight?
What will become of us?
You and I, it's drawing closer to us...the unavoidable.
The sun sets slow but early, the wind growing a dense cold,
The steady silent chill in every November night,
I feel the cold in my bones, I feel the anxiousness in my hands;


This is where the monster under my bed lives;
Vaguely familiar road
Inside we were safe from anything outside;
Outside I could hold you.
Endless corners of countless trees
Passion flying through my hands in rhythm
I chose all the wrong ways to go.
The air was dense with discolor; my predictions...
Becoming fruitions
Can't stay in one place for too long; got to keep it moving along.

Only we rule here
This is our time; Our love
Moving along, a change of scenery
We laugh together;
Just us
And everybody else.

The text must be written
The night that never existed
From here on is make believe; this magical palace.
Here with you is all that I have left, though I don't know it; now.
A reach to the sky
To know my threshold.

Now is happening all the time
Now is everywhere
Now is infinite
It comes together and alone.


We see the edge
The edge of reality
Dissolving our feet in the cool breeze; a silhouette of the world
We stopped time; breathing the stars on ****** trails.
All we are made of is sound and movement, but you can hold the music
When it's this good, you can hold it in your hands.
Look into the sky and you will see it; as high and wide as you can
Funneling down slowly; merging all imagination into its spiral.
Amazing it's description; so majestic, so sharp its turns and colors,
So beautiful; Unbearing.

No one has been where we have been;
No one has seen the emotion
In all it's mightiness,
Now never comes twice.

Come fly with me, past electric faces over ancient walls
Walk up and down the stairs; into the distance
As far as you can imagine this landscape thrives
The neon walls of the great city beckoning
Flying over it, where wings never touch the air;
Calmful free, one with everything.
We never imagined that one could make things like that up;
We never truly imagined.

No one has been where we have been; teeming with commotion
No one has loved as pure as us; No one has been the emotion
This leaves, the freeze, the summer, the storytellers greatest story.

The Universe has a soul;
But you can't walk there.
This one is older than me
Lily Oct 2015
A flower is only sought after for as long as it is fresh and pretty
Don't be like a flower
Don't believe what they declare
We are not just a simple DNA
We are the universe summed up into one
Observe the rules but don't be submissive
Follow your heart but never lose your mind
Pick your own battles and fight it well
And everyday
Don't fail to recall
That you are a fighter
Strong, courageous, wise
Yet still so sweet and soft
Fair, Confident, Honest,
A woman of virtue and respect
You are stunning on your own
You don't need any guy to prove your worth

©Leigh Herondale  *October 2015
SassyJ Jan 2016
The snail strolls gently
Realigning hoped moments
A slow pace of consequences
****** and placed on tables
Harped to melodic tunes
Summed in upbeat sequences
The crescendo boils to ******
The climb of beats and undertones
All exposed and overlooked
The onlookers astonished
My ribs pinned out in pain
I squeeze to the cracks of normality
Attempting to slowly leap
To see the darkness of winter
To breath the stilled air
Yet, a hope lived, a life seen
We all shall make it to the end
Crawling to cut the finish line
Life seems slow but with minimal leaps. We shall all see the finish line. The aspect of living a "normal" life pain my ribs; up to the point the onlookers are astonished. We are all heading to the finish line, some things have to be embraced! But do we have to?
Hal Loyd Denton Jan 2012
Priceless unrecognized art in our midst
What this is about will fail from my part but along the way hopefully it will be worth the read I don’t know why unless her lost
Love is trying to channel feeling through me all I know when something grips touches moves you and won’t let go you must
Give it the fullest expression of your ability so it is a great endeavor we reserve Lincoln and Jefferson as great topics of dissimilation
In my case Mulholland Drive it speaks of place and immediate recognition of a greater place as a whole the same here I will be
Speaking of a single person but as in Matisse’s art you will find yourself in the overall theme and parts will speak of you then end
Modernism cubism Jackson *******’s power art fracture they said it’s not getting there that’s important but what you end up with
Jack the dripper was what he was called but they said mathematicians can tell his work by the amount of paint that he places in
Mathematical perfection in each section of the canvas this beautiful young woman can only be summed up that way she starts and
Flows on the canvas I have it easy sort of I’m not making a life I’m only revealing one even so following God pointing out his handy
Work his ability to reach forth and actually handle and hold intangibles this girl this woman God desires light moods he reaches out
Picks out laughter and merriment where and on whatever shelf it rest on he places this in the heart it outwardly produces tender
Moments that reflect and hold desired effects of casual looseness that brims with joy the filling of human kindness it ebbs and flows
Like a musical downbeat that impresses and gives enduring pleasure somber can accentuate deepen as it has done her personality
So God just picks up a frown with a deft hand he puts it in place at the precise right moment into the fabric of her life gold is laced
Among the hidden divined parts this glows mysteriously in her personality so the greatest artisan of all worked this master piece on
Living loving canvas of sweetest soft flesh the smiles and playful way are evident in all of her outward show of giving and being
Emotional stirring anchored in loves unmovable depths her heart was perfected by the man He gave her to love great years followed
She grew from girlhood into womanhood her countenance and face her glorious hair the true nobility of her quiet way is not easy to
To capture in words but it takes you to another place it gives evidence of the finest quality that is set in stillness a true master piece
Of art in her presence richness invades your soul you are set forth to discover masterful wonder gleaming in a living dream it stands all
Scrutiny her being holds mystery undivided attention to detail will enthrall move carry you to a place of appreciation and thankfulness
And some have the greatest blessing of being her friend thank you for this art treasure if you look at it as a portrait its name would be
Iva he calls her my beloved wife for then and forever
Mary Gay Kearns Mar 2018
Michael leiris said of Picasso

Everything we love is about to die,
And that is why,
Everything we love must be summed up,
With all the high emotion of farewell,
In something so beautiful we shall never forget it.

And this is true of us poets, too.
So those moments we loved
Are captured with such beauty
That the heart is taken back.

Love Mary xxxx
VineBabe Jan 2019
It started with a hug
years of desire and affection
summed up in one simple
heart warming gesture.

Foreign sensations
a little fumbling to find my Mark
we fit right in.

Perfect opposites
the Lark and the Owl
Cold and Warm
the Neophyte and the Teacher

Forgotten fears
and new found peace.
We must meet again.
King Tutankhamun Dec 2014
Its timeto yoke the joker

yo to the emcees that think they could get with me
i wet em like an ocean tide personality like jekyll and hide
which means im a killa slash for short drama no comma imma
brutal emcee eatin' 'em up the best of em im the lyrical cannibal
flesh rent devil sent no need for repent
comin' with wickedness born with 8 flows if ya only knew
******* come in the sets of three im givin' wishes for free
the rap genie aint' comin' to be a hero the black zorro thorrough
shoot up the barrio dead eye hawkin' assassin' blastin'
with the greatest tech mouth shots or physical shots it don't matter
whatever it takes to get the job done
my posse cocked d slapped you *******
you can smoke all the spinach you want and you leave like popeyes
get it naw forget sensitive ******* i knit it
write in graffiti love hoes shape like Nefertiti queen b goddess
never a ***** **** in my encore **** with me and ill bring the war along with gore
******* never been a softie
daddy had to be a gangsta **** hustler drug dealer all summed in one
so i had no choice but to pack a gun
but meanwhile im onto bigger and better things like rappin' on the mic i cling
flows tighter rhan pliers leave emcees wrapped up like cable wires
the sire embraced higher learning spurning over obstacles
turn complexity into miracles
how could i ever fall if i never fall failure not an acceptation
id rather sells drugs and extortion and get caught wit 25 big ones
fed time **** the state time im on the grind one time
always wanna see me fall black man finna rise planet of the apes style
hot and wild j ceasar with these skills i spills sendin' chills
its an ice age all over just say its over when big yosef grab the mic
prepare for fright when i ignite blast through hearts like a cannon
i just smoke ya ya mediocre its time to yoke these jokers
s Willow Jan 2019
My Existence can be summed up as a broken robot beyond repair
Rally works and when it does
***** up the job.

Left behind as trash.
No one wants it.
Could be used to creat new,
probably shouldn't the new will start broken.

Over all I am nothing but,
a broken robot beyond repair.
Sravya Jun 2017
Red frock and white bootees
Locked In my mother's arms
Carrying a one digit number
Over my age,
I already found
More than a trillion pounds
The love reaching
Skies and above!

I grew up
Red remained
A colour of fascination.
Smiling like a
Cheshire Cat
Standing pretty tall
And pretty chubby!

Time flew
I had lost it on colours
Loved blends of
Black and white.
Grins hiding pain
And also depicting pleasure
All I my eyes that staged
Camouflaged Emotions.

My small world always
Was that huge camp
With innocent boundaries
Holding lovely squares
On a peach floral wrapped
Strong, fair, opaque and safe harbour.
It forever stood like a
Silent pillow
Harbour of peace
Dictionary of surprises
Storm to store fears
Island of laughter
Precious box of memories
Oasis of passing time.

Wherever I go
Whatever may be the time
You will be missed.
I hope
You will carry
All of my tracks,
Wait for stories
Of every place I go.

When I walked outside my tiny world,
You were termed
With heavy casts
And strong moulds
Separating millions
And sometimes
Just a family of 10
With another of 2.
But I get back to
my world and will never miss to

Thank you for being the 'WALL' in my life!
Onoma Nov 2013
Solar flares, deep space chambermaid stabbing her
molten mop in contempt.
There are so many squares that field her space,
sifted afire.
Tearing out rays of her hair to be, and be see her strands descending lit, the
stress level of an unforgettable goddess.
She yearns head-over-heels, burns out her core
with blinding reason.
Not once was she afforded a mirror to know her
Wiry stick figures subsist under her--fatalistically
Summed up, as water broken, transparent as the
life seen through.
What pagan rite has shimmied out her soul, what
serpent slid her warmth sane?
Do not site dawn or dusk, mistake her outer life
for an inner one!
Do not presume the burden of her focal point, her
light hangs overhead swaying interrogation.
Caught perfectly for Platonic cave or other...
in utero, her light a stillborn beauty--as alive as
ever once away from her.
She's up, burning...console her, her blood is boiling--
she wants to be accounted for, to outgrow that coo.
Only to surprise once and for all a stone's underbelly.
Travis Wagner Feb 2010
If I summed you up
I’d abstain from strained
refrain, from those mushy
lines that read like a hike
through a swamp. An inkwell
tipped, they pour from trite
lips and taint a masterpiece.
But you were not made
to bathe in black cliché;
you: the product of Someone’s
fantastic oration; spoken to life,
left in my sight. And I, but the
by-chance observer, who only
knows what not to say.
Corvus Dec 2016
You've got the biggest smile on your face but no light in your eyes.
Your ******* are over-exposed, and you're slightly less than flesh but much more than bone.
Nobody remembers you now except in black and white,
In headlines and articles; your existence summed up in a single sobriquet.
You're the Mona Lisa of tragedy, a painting created with camera flashes,
And your nakedness is clothed in speculation and mystery.
The scandal of an era; defamation and declarations of promiscuity,
Ripping away your personality, tearing off your integrity.
Left even less than the mess your artist carved you into
After the insatiable appetites of the vultures picked your image dry.
A mere carcass where once there was a body of hopes and dreams,
Posed to perfection; you're the model everyone imagines you to be.
Beauty personified, everyone is an admirer,
Everyone wants to take credit for creating a masterpiece,
Yet there is only one person that can take credit.
Only one person responsible for transforming you
From the ordinary beauty to the extraordinary artwork.
You were transcended into eternity.
Only your artist and his methods remain secret;
A sculptor, a painter with an eye for an eye-catcher.
You're the flower that was destined for fame,
Even if your petals had to be cut up first.
Black Dahlia. Old poem, but one of the very few poems that isn't about me, therefore I'm quite happy with it.
4Anonymous7 Oct 2017
There are some things that can’t be described. Things too magnificent, too extraordinary to be summed up in a single word. My favourite colour is one of those things.

My favourite colour is a kindergartener’s painting of the sea, a quarter sun in the corner of the page, lowercase ‘m’s covering the skies, playing the role of seagulls. That’s my favourite colour.

My favourite colour is the sky in the few moments between night and day. Not the colours of the sunset, but the part that people always seem to forget to look at. It’s the area beside the mess of oranges and pinks, all bleeding together. The pure, solid colour that fills the small space just above them. The colour that only stays for a moment, but the colour that always returns. That’s my favourite colour.

It’s the robin's eggs you find in a storm drain as a child. The ones you don’t dare to touch, lest the babies’ mother smell your scent on them and never return.

It’s the mailbox from the saturday morning cartoons. The ones that always lure poor, unsuspecting mail men to the homes of very excited dogs.

It’s a forget me not. One of the hundreds darting the grounds at summer camp. It’s the one you pluck and tuck behind your friends ear with promises of forever.

My favourite colour is the past, the present, and the future. It’s the ground, the sky, and everything else inbetween.

Impossible to name, impossible to ever truly define and yet it's there. All of that wonder and amazement is right there, in one place.

His eyes. THAT'S my favourite colour.
I've joined "creative writing club" and we have to write about our fav colour without saying the name for the first meeting. I want to make a good first impression. Help.  (can you even tell what colour this is?)

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