"supplying" poems
The release; so powerful; sometimes to feel alive: all you need is a reminder:
His guiding hand:supplying the demands to the upper-hand, across her belly button, to forbidden; lands. Parted lips, her pink folds;dragging his hands down. Working each other: we ain’t fooling around; our bodies, over time. Dripping wet with desire.
Her reaching back; she leaned back. Over the edge; of the bed. standing ***** Picture perfect; she’s holding her breath, as he’s kissing on her neck, her breast, focused on her ****** the left. Right in my mouth. Long ponytail, pulled to the left. She is wet, under there, her underwear - pulled to the side, exposing her underhair; shaved bare, under there.
Fingers wrapped around him. Looking hard, she found it; tugging on it. Him pushing his luck got her pressing her lips against him. Pulling his belt out of way; biting his lips, he’s tensing. She, kiss as she play. looking a certaining way; tempting how she tempts him. She’s over the top, and its so overwhelming.
She’s all touched, from touching it; so fortunate, her ******* soaking wet, juices flowing. Wet spots, he’s all over it. Exposing her **** to his fingertips: with his index; middle finger next. Started working her slow, building up to raw *** Pressure building, rising her chest. She’s worked up; trying to get off. Giving it our best. Her waistline, being pumped from behind, so smooth; the finest wine. Unsatisfiable rhythm, keeping them inline. Holding onto her waist, he’s so online; bending backwards, pleasuring each other, every time. Some may come and go, but they come together every single time.
He’s feeling it: the way its feeling, feels so good - a burning sensation: her tenderness subduing his manhood; all is well, so it must good. Movement, with quickness, once his hips shifts, its motion sickness. Stroking his egos, increasing his stiffness, filling her deep. She’s clenching him, tighten, tighter. The feeling of him growing, she’s feeling him insider. Their wet bodies, skins glistening in the their fire.
Jul 4, 2014
Jul 4, 2014 at 11:05 AM UTC
One day I'll be like a
Sakura Tree
Standing by myself leaning
Only on myself
Supplying food and shelter
For just me
I'll be as independent as a
Sailor on the open seas
I'll be like a Sakura Tree
So pretty and free
With a brown body and
Beautiful pink leaves that couldn't
Care less about anything
I'll be like Sakura Tree
Branching out to touch everybody's soul
And their inner sense of beauty
I'll be able to let the cool breeze flow
Through me without caring about a thing
One day I'll be like a Sakura Tree
Dying oh so beautifully
Oct 16, 2015
Oct 16, 2015 at 9:35 PM UTC
what they don't see:
your hand entwined with mine,
how alive I am by your side
what they don't hear:
your deep voice, telling me
how strong I really am
what they don't realize:
they've been dreaming
of me, alone and lonely
but I'm the opposite
I've got you,
my secret warrior,
supplying me endorphins
loving me- better than they ever can
we're the victors
of this broken land,
secret warrior and I
May 16, 2015
May 16, 2015 at 11:16 PM UTC
United ***** College Fund
Continuing education in never being outdone
A mind can take you far providing you have the education supplying the fundamental tools
Intellect with the approach to define
Knowledge in resolutions to find
Education be ongoing doesn’t need to end
It’s a matter of affordability with an organization that says can
Having the opportunity with acceleration on when
Achieve is a form of excel
It’s tomorrow being our young people to tell
United ***** College Fund who has education to sell
College education being everyone’s given right
The thirst for knowledge with understanding in plain sight
It’s a solid learning foundation
A word having an expression
A sentence being the given promise
The paragraph forming the success
The College Graduate who can contest
Presentation illustrating achievement
It was the college education where knowledge was gained
United ***** College Fund wants this to remain
The aim to inspire continuing thinking minds
Achieve beyond and turn into wonder
“An educated mind is too precious to lose, but continued learning and not be confused”
Support the United ***** College Fund anyway you can
Put soar in education for our young people to explore, and turn from neglect which is an element of ignore.
Mar 20, 2017
Mar 20, 2017 at 3:20 PM UTC
A tug of war
It is the past experience and what was saw and felt
A word in keeping a person in line
A restriction of one’s thoughts and actions
A procedure in holding one back
******* being a form beyond one’s accord
Thank God there is a Lord
There is a chance to survive
More than a thought being a strive
I dream but all I see is a nightmare
I see effort, but when will there be preserver?
Its like a road block with detour
A method of turn back
I feel as if I am trapped in bonds
Maybe I am still sleep and need to wake up from my yond
Perhaps it’s nothing more than a dream
It’s my thinking I am in a movie stream
But its truly tough being rough
A different slavery oppression of the past with a theory of the present
A overseer continuing in present oppression
A silenced voice having no expression
The downward bound with no mountain reach
It’s time for a rebellion approach
Oppression is real and not a joke
It’s like an open wound with having a stinging poke
Oppression is alive and attempting to do well
Yet the world has a message in tell
‘OPPRESS AND OVERCOME, ITS ABOUT NO MOVEMENT AND BEING NUMB. IT TAKES MULTITUDES IN SUPPLYING THE STRENGTH, BUT ALL MUST GO THE MILES NO MATTER WHAT THE LENGTH”
Survival is how you chose to live
Its not a verb but is subjective
The voice must always be objective
Oppression cannot continue in terms in having its way
The sunrise has risen and it’s a tomorrow being a new day
These are the times to move forward and be strong
It’s a matter of all personalities of creeds in knowing how to get along
So shake whatever chains you feel you have on
Stand up and be counted where you belong
Don’t let any form of oppression hold you back
You have grasped the concept of understanding in the theory of thinking sharp being the detailed tack
Just give oppression one big smack
Listen America it’s the various cultures that stack
Oppression stand back as you have been defeated being a pack.
Jan 23, 2016
Jan 23, 2016 at 5:18 PM UTC
Green crooked straws
******* water from the ground
Supplying the leaves
The thorns
The petals
Helpful and delicate
The thorns
Taking
Not supplying
Anything
But blood
No beauty
Just pain
The petals
The flower
Beautiful
Colorful
Fragrant
The reason for the stem
For the thorns
The thorns protect
The stem provides
The flower blooms
Then the flower dies
The thorns once again
Useless
The stem
Preserving
Until the thorn’s time
Comes again
Apr 4, 2016
Apr 4, 2016 at 2:47 PM UTC
soft spoken kisses
buried in my neck and
across my face
remind me of happiness
joy I found
in a golden shock of hair
and two lips stuck red
on the face of a woman
who swore that she loved me
tight tight nights
of hold-me-close sensations
remind me that
I haven't always been alone
and even more
that I don't always have to be
but I am
touching skin to skin
and passing witty banter
for flirtation
takes our minds off
the fact that we aren't
each others soul mates
or lovers
or anything more than friends
we are distractions
from the painful reality
that we have no one
to pour ourselves into
no one to cradle
no one to ****
for just this moment
we pretend
we can be that for each other
supplying what we can
to keep up with demands
of love
affection
attention
after all
that's what friends are for
Apr 26, 2012
Apr 26, 2012 at 4:20 AM UTC
you pledge allegiance to a certain type of government
a nation that is ruled by fat men
in ***** dens that cloud the air with smoke
that waters your eyes so you can water their poppy fields
all the while with your right hand over a heart
that beats feverishly with the influx
of toxins that mix with your blood
diluting the poppy petal red
with clear atoms that bubble on spoons
in the shape of bone crossed skulls
they rule with iron fists clenched around
green paper that they take from you and your people
and sell fresh needles as necessary happiness
to counteract the sadness they have created and placed you in
they sit there with smoke rings coming from o-shaped lips
that ring around the perpetual cycle of
supply and demand
supplying addiction and wrapping it in itches
and demanding your free left hand
scratch that itch.
scratch that itch so hard that your skin opens up
and the pain requires more relief.
the nation you live in waves its flag with
173 stars representing Celsius and not celestial
because space is far away from this place
and offers too much unknown for you to think
that unknown is the opposite of the sadness you know
and maybe there is happiness there
where hands are free from swollen veins that act
as puppet strings.
Nov 30, 2012
Nov 30, 2012 at 6:56 PM UTC
Have you watched the vast Sky?
Do you allow yourself to do this?
Are there any chances in life
To make you provide extra time?
In the morning, before Sun-rise
The Western Sky will be bright
With wonderful display of clouds
A beautiful look, Sky will have
When Sun comes graciously
What a wonderful light display!
Announcing His nice arrival
Clouds will run ecstatically
In the evening when Sun sets
Like a shy girl's lovely cheeks
Eastern Sky will be romantic
Giving red carpet to the Moon
After hard-work done for that day
Sun will go elsewhere to do duty
Twenty four hours are His service
No rest at all and so truly unique
All the stars come during the night
To give us joy and peace and hope
Their twinkling will be remarkable
They only preserve our happiness
The Sky is a place of real bliss
As rain and light come from there
Heat also is by the Sun generated
Moon is a boon supplying wonder
Today watch the Sky for a change
You will be flooded by thoughts
A new idea will emerge in mind
Surely this will act as a remedy.
mvvenkataraman
May 9, 2012
May 9, 2012 at 1:46 PM UTC
ride or die
you keep me alive
giving me power and devotion
day after day
and honey, you're so dope
yet so elegant that
you may be compared to what
fills my eyes
and what hovers over the
unseen land of the deep blue sea
that we like to call
the bottom of the ocean
drizzling down my soul
to the dark gaps of my heart
darling, i see right through you
clear as day,
dark as night
you keep me here
yes, you keep me on my feet
supplying me with
love and emotion
like a druggie feeding it's body
the *******
it craves
~t.s.
Feb 15, 2014
Feb 15, 2014 at 4:21 PM UTC
ME: gmorn i'm sore but will try walking today
FRIEND: What u sore from?
ME: my whole body aches from every day of the last few weeks
FRIEND: I see. Yes, start slow and do what u can.
ME: Was his death quick and painless or slow and agonizing? Do I want really want to know? Will a forensic pathologist supplying me with his cause of death provide me with that elusive state known as 'closure'??...I wake up but the nightmare never goes away....
FRIEND: :-( , that is very very saddening I don't want to give the wrong idea when I say that I've felt like I could relate to Colton when I hear you talk about him, because I was a pretty messed up kid and was in a lot of trouble, but very high spirited, and when trouble came I wasn't scared, but gave all I had. That's how I think, and I've thought about that.
ME: maybe he died "ok"?? its been 5 yrs but i'm just now feeling it....
FRIEND: Because u always kept hope that he may come home.
ME: ok as in he was brave and knew he was loved...
FRIEND: That is correct. I don't see fear from him. Maybe anger, but I don't fear. If anything he was worried about you, and if you'd be ok. Knowing u wouldnt is what scared him. Now u know, he is home He's been with u 'all this time. I've lived though a couple of those moments, and that's what I thought about, the ones who brought me in this world and my family cause I knew they loved me.
ME: if i had known that night the truth i would have no doubt about it, knowing my state of mind at that time, committed suicide ...it was graciousness that allowed me 5 yrs of slow torture.
FRIEND: <3
ME: you're good ppl
Dec 23, 2013
Dec 23, 2013 at 9:20 AM UTC
War of the worlds,
men bartering money
Dollar bills left abandoned,
blown to smithereens
Battling dusts of torment,
acceptance of surrender
Waging a money war,
business men flee
In the shadows rises,
a fallen angel
Akin to a phoenix,
from the ashes
She symbolizes a renewal,
dying in fires
Sparks burning a nest,
immortality supplying coffins
Diabolical legacies of past,
bow & arrow
Punctured wounding broken heart,
wings disallow flight
Stumbling a splintered hip,
reborn a chance
Of independent determined autonomy,
la Cuesta Encantada
Fallen at the gates,
an enchanted hill
San Simeon seeking redemption,
death awaits her
Carrying body & soul,
Santa María Maggiore
Of Roman baroque temples,
small cascading pools
Death releases her body,
the Neptune pool
She floats without dissension,
sinking in grace
In all her glory,
Hearst Castle will
Entomb body & soul,
memories of her
release release release
Absolution.
© Sia Jane
Apr 2, 2014
Apr 2, 2014 at 12:12 PM UTC
I asked him I said “don’t lie to me”
Give it a couple weeks but after that
then he be denying me,
take without supplying me
With the way we started
I guess this **** is irony, this **** is irony
If I told this would happen
Would you try to stop it?
Lay back in the mayback
Sit and wait
N Try to watch it
Boy I know we had our problems,
But you ain’t work to solve them
I been thru all this last year
I think that I’m revolvin
I’ve been thru this **** before
I took all of the detours
He told that he loves me
But it seems he always needs more
I can be the best for you
I’m so focused on you but you focused on what drug next for you
I know I have my issues but at least I try to fix it
You said that loves a game,
You say we swung and that we missed it
Switched up in an instant
We went from hugs and kisses
To tryna keep our distance
We barely speak our words
But I know you feel this verse
Ain’t denying it, I miss you
So I prey to god it hurts
I tried and tried and tried with you
I knew that I would ride for you
It really takes some honesty
And know I barely lied to you
Love was thrown around so let me be the last to save you...
I knew I should’ve expected this
Maybe you ain’t it no more
But I sure need to check for this
I tried everything so I think it’s time for an extra man, what extra man?
No this not a diss track,
But baby you ain’t it no more
So you can get your ***** back, get your ***** back
No regrets except for you,
Shoulda up and left on you
This is all yours so keep listen
And the rest for you
Love is gonna throw you out,
Told my friends I had no doubt, had no doubt yah yah had no doubt
Can’t believe that I defended you,
Broken hearts I’d mend for you
I used to send long paragraphs
But now this song in sendin you
It’s broken
I won’t bend for you
I won’t bend for you
Nah I won’t bend for you
You get on my nerves,
But it used to be my mind
I used to think you’re perfect
It’s a ****** waste of time
And I swear i keep searchin
But your type is all I find
All I find
Yah yah you’re all I find
Pretending you don’t know me gone be hard after this
Thought that I was done
Still goin hard after this
Baby we was up to bat
I guess we all gotta me,
We all gotta miss
But I should say thanks
I’m super focused now
You don’t want it?
That’s okay I won’t go hold you down
Used to spend my nights
We’d fall asleep on the call
Now I spend my nights I sleep quite at all
I hate you and I love you
And I wrote to express that
I hate this I hate us
It’s done now, never text back
I’ll send calls to voice mail
I won’t take my ex back
I hope you gonn find better
But baby it don’t get that
Baby It don’t get that
Dec 12, 2018
Dec 12, 2018 at 1:44 PM UTC
Ineffable: Too great or extreme to be expressed or described in words; Too sacred to be uttered.
-------------------------–-------—-------------------------------------------------------------
The whimpered cries of the dying
in the rubble of Bangladeshi avarice,
announcing we were worthy of life,
to which we think to ourselves,
agreed upon
with our,
a whispery, silent
amen.
The still alive cries of children,
tornado-tormented parents screaming unfair,
teachers body shielding their charges, whispering
save us Lord, from your inventive toys,
to which we think to ourselves,
a whispery, silent
amen.
But here comes the Oklahoma tornadoes again,
now four more dead in Houston,
selecting the innocent, the brave,
logic in any of this, none,
nonsensical at its worst
to which we think to ourselves,
a whispery, silent
amen.
~~~~~
The first I-am-alive cries
of new born lungs,
I have grandson, stain-less, perfect,
recovering in the stainless steel delivery room,
I hear the all babies in the neo-natal unit in unison
pronouncing a Hebrew blessing,
the Shecheyanu...
(Blessed are You, Lord our God, Master of the universe, who has kept us alive and sustained us and has brought us to these special moments)
to which we think to ourselves,
a whispery, silent
amen.
These unspoken poem devotions of adoration
of the sleeping chamber, that cannot
be heard or answered for they're dreamt and
perchance in the morning thankfully recalled,
enough to be transcribed,
to which we think to ourselves,
a whispery, silent
amen.
Ineffable.
A day, just another supplying an average day
to the mass of average.
Birth + Death = an average day.
I thank a God for the
birth of a newborn perfection
On this day the newspapers report
about silence of the God others pray to,
could be the same deity,
reporting that in his holy places,
Jew spits upon Jew,
Muslims usurp Christian lives,
all for none,
all forgetting in
whose image they were created.
to which we cannot say nor think
anything.
Ineffable.
too sacred to be uttered,
so instead of the paucity of these unuttered words,
know that each tear in
the reservoir of my eyes
is my unspoken poem prayer.,
my amen.
*Instead of answering
amen out loud,
wipe my eyes
with your fingertips,
silently.*
May 18, 2013
May 18, 2013 at 3:19 PM UTC
Hans was outside himself. Perched on the edge of a daydream, he looked below, distantly aware of his bustling dinner table. How casually they live, Hans thought; with what feigned clarity they can connect and understand. There were his brothers and sisters; his aunts, uncles, cousins and ah—there was his father. Look at him personifying repugnance, locks of hair falling clumsily on his tattered shirt. Look at him! (Hans could yell only in silence.) Look there and see him cloyingly preparing his knife to hunt, to tear, to slice yet another hunk of meat for his own gluttony. With what excitement—what vivid, forbidden ecstasy Hans would take his father’s knife and turn the hunter into the hunted.
Somewhere in the cluttered abyss there was a sound followed by a warming light. Hans was entranced. And again, a gentle thunder followed by a thread of heat connecting for a moment earth and sky, father, family, and son.
It was goodness and caring, it was a mother’s voice. It was this graceful fluttering in the medium of time that awoke a primitive yearning in Hans, grabbed his throat and stared him lustily in the eyes. What could it be? Hans wondered aloud, what could it be that she desires, for he already knew that he had to be the one to deliver any object she longed for, to slay any beast that tormented her—it had to be him, to be Hans, to be her son.
Please, she said; can someone please pour me a glass of water. Oh how Hans was enraged to find that this whim had not been made solely of a son. It was his right to quench his mother’s thirst; it was his place within the natural order to satisfy her needs. What cruelty and ice! Hans said, but also felt; and in an instant returned to himself below, tumbling violently from the high canopy of his trance to the sight of his father’s filthy hand reaching for the water jug.
In base impulse, Hans jabbed at the jug, forcibly pushing aside the carnal hand. Upon contact, Hans felt an overwhelming calm, an absolute peace. He wrapped his fingers tightly around the handle, closed his eyes, and breathed deeply. At once he was joyous, he was spent; he was adrenalized and gloriously dominant. He would be the one to tend to the maternal flower, supplying water for a thirst that he prayed would always be there.
Mar 22, 2011
Mar 22, 2011 at 1:39 PM UTC
Buried in darkness,
Accompanied by scent of metal and dirt,
No time given to discover colour.
But to toil on and on, day and night,
Supplying the fortunate doppelgänger with
All the needs to prosper.
Whether it knows or not,
That ****** beauty never fails to show.
Eyes of recognition solely
Centred on the fruit bearer where
It’s decorated with wonders of nature.
Though with flick of a finger,
It’s life will cease as the supplier
Has all the power in the world to
Go into strike.
Arousal of schemes powered by
Darkness about, that of light
Will shrivel into the fine dust,
Those that feed the void
Of Jealousy.
Feb 4, 2019
Feb 4, 2019 at 9:52 PM UTC
Merely a color delusion. Usually with shady conclusion.
Each lighter war starts and ends with tons of confusion.
The accusations start flying. One casts the blame, the others left denying.
However I pass most of this guilt onto BIC, who does most of the supplying.
It's merely harmless bicker. Each is only defending their own flicker.
Lay them all on the table so we can end this all much quicker.
A flammable rainbow is layed out. This will help eliminate doubt.
And isn't that really what most lighter wars are about.
Here the truth is exposed. Leaving all unopposed.
Once we sort through the evidence the case can be closed.
What makes this game so fun. Maybe you came with one.
But when you empty out your pockets you now have none.
Or maybe today was your lucky day. Things seemed to be going your way.
No need to worry, that is just how you play.
They all look the same. They all carry flame.
Your only intention was to borrow it yet somehow yours it became.
But your not a lighter thief. You'd prefer the label fire cheif.
Most are unaware they stole it and hand it back in disbelief.
May 5, 2013
May 5, 2013 at 10:04 PM UTC
Fourteen hours total, I spent in that car,
but twas the motive that drove me, so it didn't seem far.
I hope the impression I left, was above all her dreams,
cause my heart seemed to melt, like a spring de-thawed stream.
Though I still know, that I have so much to do,
in regards of my life, and general attitude.
But I loved what I saw, there is no denying,
so my hearts for the taking, its all I'm supplying.
And I'm scared more than ever, that I'll be left hurt
as all of my feelings become one with the dirt.
While I wait in my sorrow, I try hard to relate,
but I can't for some reason, so maybe its fate.
Though I do know, that I cannot blame her,
her life is her own, I am nobody's savior.
And this bad feeling I have, is about to come real,
her heart is something that I wont be able to steal.
How did we go from, "I want you a lot",
to, "its not gonna work", (that is all that I got).
So I'll ponder once more at what will never be,
the southern girl left before she even knew me.
But I'll give her one thing, and that it could have been worse,
cause maybe a relationship would have left my heart in a hearse.
She did what she did, and just soon enough.
But I still wish that we could have tried to been tough.
Her worry and fear went along with her silence,
the lack of her words left me with an altered conscience.
Jan 28, 2013
Jan 28, 2013 at 10:40 AM UTC
~Poet V-Ink (Viewtiful)
Inside my head
inspiration wars for
territory/ my eyes
inviting any and everything
in it's path inside with a story
that I'll tell it's story
My mood doesn't
always shelter my
desires to be creative
but my eyes never stop
working constantly supplying me
with inspiration...
some times I don't
wanna write.....
so what's inside
becomes impatient...
So things decide
to up and leave
through the crevices
in my face and....
It spills in its
desired form so
it's ink my skin is
tasting.... I apologize
ahead of time my gift
and it's vision care nothing
of your time it's wasting
~Rebel Flower
Inside my head there is a place
awaking the purpose to write
like incisions on a platter
like a golden sizzorr
Cutting in time wasted
where it could be
used in skills practice
to free a prisoner of rest
Like leggos we stack purpose
And speeches never frail
There are times of a nothingness
for ink flows and poetic thoughts
yet naturally words
yell at my window for spills
a welcoming and re-entering
Paving for my souls exertion
editing exact details
carrying in a song in my psalms
I don't live in the gift
the gift lives in me
touring like a concert to sooth
or even to feel
Like a record playing on repeat
This is my mental obsession.
~Poet V-Ink (Viewtiful)
I'm obsessed
with all the talent
god has left me to
possess but sometimes
I get upset at the lack
of control I have over
the information my mind
accepts/ granted a gift to
project messages hidden
in the mess life lessons usually
left but I stress because that gift
sometimes forces my tired hand
to respect
I struggle...
some much on my
mind absent the intention
to invest... How do I turn
off the switch to how my
registry was blessed..
~Rebel Flower
Blessings of such a skill
at times may be overwhelming
I picture the gift of words a performer
When need of pros we feed our drive
as well as the audience
We plumage into a well
of urgent tunes
then we tiré, and we are restless
poetry never dies
it will come back when need of a place
of itself to live again and again.
Every poet needs a light
and the switch will dim in any time
I'd worry more when it flips back on
How great the light will be.
© Copyright 2014 Poet V-Ink &
S.T. Rebel of Eden.
Sep 14, 2014
Sep 14, 2014 at 4:27 AM UTC
thus do learn how to tolerate
the blow of wings
of the most inflammable flesh
after the successful sacrifice of the student-hostel
jumping into the peacock-foams
how dangerously is changing the total travel-route of the nail-polish
in the high tide of the coconut-kernel
that conquers the world
today the water-pigeon gets pain
only by the flute made of palm-leaf
can’t be written the pleasure-trip in boat
of the injured-knee night-queen that is deposited heavily
on the collar of the village-moonlight
even-then the gramophone would be playing on
even-then the courageous pheasant would proceed further
to throw towards the squirrel a dinner-sleep
then all the daughters in disguise of birds certainly
may come out from within the salted mosquito-net
burning open-ground in their eyes
even after
the small boats of the fig leaves
would slip from the chorus song
of the roses
then they are to be pulled forward to the river-bed
of the late afternoon
to make them understand again
that such Xerox-centre which can ignore its metallic-birth
does not grow even now on either side of this muddy road
so look at to see how the epenthesis
of the screwpine-leaf withdraws her beak from the old dome
and pours
all new mathematics
into the compact-disc stitched with the back of the sea-tortoise
if that’s not real
how in the left and right
such evil-company of the oxygen would creep
if the next part of this commentary
resumes from the umbilicus cavity of the x-mass
would the blood-sugar of the water-plankton be rising continuously
look there again
the feather of colour that is in her adolescence
touches the cold magnet of her gamut
to disperse the cherry orchards
now if the doors of this brown triangle be got open
you can see on the screen one by one
the projection of the apex-points of the red-palash
and in the night-texture of the kathakali-kathak
they are supplying continuously
small sun-shines in poly-packs
Sep 13, 2010
Sep 13, 2010 at 5:34 PM UTC
Clouds darkened
One’s heart beckoned
The tornado swirled with its winds
Trees, animals, humans and structures all caught in
God’s voice in one blow
Yet it seemed the tornado was moving slow
The tornado and human lives
It’s a wonder if any one would survive
The winds continued to press their ways
It’s Heaven’s mount in what God says
Destruction, redemption and submission
The tornado supplying the condition
Movement with control
The witnessed eyes in behold
I am the remembrance in don’t forget
Sincerity with no regrets
The force with the power
At any given moment could be the final hour.
Jun 18, 2014
Jun 18, 2014 at 6:11 AM UTC
Happiness & Misery
I tend to compliment
My confidence
With complaints
On how common place
My plain
Life is
The great times
In complexity
Simply
End
Too quickly
Being me
Became a meme
A trend
A fad
That lasts temporarily
As I change
The wardrobe
Of my beliefs
To best suit the situation
For times of war
Or times of peace
Offering myself
A sacrificial ME
Should suffice
For their superficial
Needs
Supplying their demand
Of wants
The difference they cannot see
I
No better than them
No better
Than what they seek
Not realizing
I
In this life
Is all I need
To proceed
To “ever after”
Happily
The other
Side of my brain
Supplies
The pain
And suffering
Inside of me
Ushering
The alternative
Reality
To my native
Faculty of thoughts
Felicity fails
And the facility
Of fury
Derails
My train of thought
This casualty
Casually causes
The worst case scenario
The battle within
Never ends
Each state of mind
Debates with
Indubitable facts
And stats
To seal my fate
The future lies
In mystery
Happiness
Or misery?
The answers hard to see
I still don’t cant find the key
To unlock the doors
To happiness in misery…
Oct 4, 2011
Oct 4, 2011 at 4:13 PM UTC