"teresa" poems
Malalagkit na mga halik
Amoy ng alak at yosi,
kumakapit sa damit
Kaunting barya,
puri ang kapalit
Eto ang turo ni inay
"Kapalan mo ang lipstick anak,
hindi magtatagal ikaw di'y masasanay"
manipis na tela
ang bumalot sa murang katawan ni Teresa
"Sariwang-sariwa!"
hindi magkamayaw ang mga kalalakihan
Sa entablado kinalimutan
ang nagdurusang puso
binalatan nang dahandahan
-Tula XI, Margaret Austin Go
Nov 22, 2014
Nov 22, 2014 at 2:27 AM UTC
Isang babae ang sumakay sa V. Mapa
Maikli ang buhok at kayumanggi
Nakapulang T-shirt at maikling shorts
Tsinelas na plastic ay may takong
Ang jeep ay mahaba, bago at maingay
Balahaw nito ang malakas na tugtugin
Ang barker ay mala trenta maging ang driver
Kung umasta ay tinedyer
Ang musika ay hindi musika
'Pagkat hindi lahat ng sinulat ay babasahin
Ni musika ang lahat ng tugtugin
Hindi musika kundi basura
Ang babae ay sumabay sa saliw ng tugtog
Kumanta nang may emosyon
Walang hiyang ikinampay ang kamay
At winasiwas ang yapos na sako
Hindi pa siya nagbabayad
Malamang wala siyang pera
Hindi siguro iyon ang dahilan ng tawanan
Sa kanya'y marahil may kakulangan
Nawala ang nagwawalang kanta
At nanahimik rin ang aba
Tulala sa kawalan habang may minamantra
Bakit kaya kabisado niya ang kanta?
Kung mayroon mang makapagsasabi
Ano ang nasa isipan ng isang tao
Na hindi rin masasabi kung ano
Paanong ang pag-unawa'y matatamo?
Sila ba talaga ang wala sa katinuan?
Kung sila ang ating pinagtatawanan
Kung mga mata nila'y walang bahid
Pahid ng alinlangan at pagdududa
Naririnig din ba niya
Sigaw ng barker sa kalsada?
Nararamdaman din ba niya
Dampi ng tubig ulan
Naiisip niya kaya
Kung ano ang kinabukasan?
Nagmamadali rin ba siyang makauwi
Dahil may exam kinabukasan?
Bumaba siya sa harap ng arko
Tumalon at masayang nagsayaw sa gitna
Tinunton ang daan sa Teresa
Di namalayang nariyan na siya
Sa patutunguhan niya
Aug 4, 2016
Aug 4, 2016 at 12:37 PM UTC
“Yesterday is gone. Tomorrow has not yet come. We have only today. Let us begin.”
― Mother Teresa
May mga panahon sa buhay ko na nasayang, may mga darating pa siguro pero baka hindi ko na maabutan, tanging ang ngayon ang tangan ko sa aking palad. Sisiguraduhin ko na hindi ito masasayang. Gagamitin ko at pagyayamanin ang ngayon ko sapagkat ito lang ang oras na hawak ko. Magsusulat ako ng mga salitang matulain kahit hindi nila ito tanggapin. Kahit ako lang ang tunay na aangkin sa aking simulain. Kahit malalim ang dagat na aking lulusungin kapos man ang bait ito’y aking gagamitin at titimbulanin.
Walang yumayaman sa pagsusulat ng tula at ang buhay ng isang makata sa panukat ng lipunan ay laging salat. Pero wala na akong magagawa napasubo na ako, matagal ko na itong nilimot at tinalikuran subalit para itong isang sumpang anino na laging nakasunod ayaw akong tantanan. Mabuti pa ang nag-uulat sa radyo at telebisyon dahil may nakikinig pero sa sumusulat ng tula bihira lang ang lumilingap. Putang-Ina bakit ba kasi ito pa ang nakahiligan ko?
Siguro dahil dito ako sumasaya, kasi nagagawa kong bigyang tinig ang tahimik kong isipan. Bakit kasi hindi na lang ako naging payak sa lahat ng bagay lalo na sa gawaing pag-iisip? Bakit kasi masyado akong mapagmasid, mausisa at malikhain sa pagsasalarawan ng mga bagay-bagay? Bakit ayaw magpahinga ng aking diwa?
Hindi naman ako magaling sa tugmaan at sa pagkatha ng mga kinakailangang sukat kaya kinalimutan ko na ito. Pero may ulol na bumulong sa akin “ok lang yan may free verse naman e kung hindi mo kaya ipahayag sa tugmaan gamitin mo ang malayang taludturan”. Kaya ito nanaginip na naman ako ng gising at tinatawag ang sarili ko na isang “makabagong makata”. Putang Ina makatang walang pera at laging nangungutang. Buti man lang sana kung makukuha ko kahit ang kalahati ng tagumpay nina Walt Whitman, Amado V. Hernandez, Jose Corazon De Jesus at Francisco Balagtas o kahit na si Emilio Mar Antonio na lang – e tiyak na hindi naman.
Kanina pa tumatakatak ang tiklado ng aking computer, ayaw ko nang magsulat pero may demonyo na tumutulak sa akin para gawin ito. Ayaw akong patahimikan ng putang-ina. Kaya’t heto ako at nagpupursige parin. Ang makabagong makata ay hindi na muling tatalikod sa tawag ng tulaan. Kahit walang pera magpapatuloy ako kasi dito ako masaya, masaya pero malungkot din. Ewan, madalas hindi ko maintindihan. Hindi ko na muling sasayangin ang natitirang oras ko.
Nov 9, 2017
Nov 9, 2017 at 3:31 AM UTC
Kailangan ko lang ilabas kasi nakita ko tong picture sa Facebook. Inaamin ko madalas sumasayad sa isip ko to. Sino ba naman ang hindi maiisip to kung marealize mo kung gaano ka kahelpless at powerless na baguhin ang paligid mo. Sino ba naman ang hindi makakaisip na baka may mas magandang lugar para sa ating lahat na kung saan masaya tayo. Yung feeling of guilt kung bakit ako nasa loob ng kotse, naka-aircon tapos may batang kakatok sa bintana mo at siya ay walang makain, tapos pag inabutan mo magsasabi padin ng "Thank you po.", sabay bibili ng sundae sa Mcdonald's. Tangina lang diba, kasi bata lang din sila at gusto nila maenjoy ang buhay. Tapos, magmaneho ka lang sa Quezon ave, may kakatok sa bintana mo humihingi pagkain or limos. Tingin ka sa Quiapo may mga matatandang nanlilimos, tapos, masayang masaya pagka binigyan mo ng pagkain, nakakaputangina. Nung nag Davao kami, yung mga nagbebenta ng perlas dun alam **** isang kahig isang tuka ang buhay nila, isang tingin mo lang alam **** sobrang hirap ng buhay. Nakakagago pala talaga ang pakiramdam ng pribelehiyo no? Kasi andun ka lang para mag lamyerda at gumastos ng madaming pera. Yung feeling na nagiinstagram ako ng walang kakwenta-kwentang bagay tapos may namamatay sa gutom sa ibang lugar, may naaabusong ofw sa middle east, yung mga nasa Mindanao napapagitnaan ng gulo. Yung nakikita **** sales lady sa SM na alam **** todo kayod para kumita ng pera sa Maynila pero tangina hindi nabibigyan ng tamang benepisyo at kontraktwal padin. Ang swerte ko. Ang sarap ng buhay ko. Sa sobrang sarap, napakaunfair na at nakakagago na dahil di ko din masabing ayaw ko ang buhay ko, pero ayaw ko din ang mga nakikita ko. Ang labo no? At bilang isang ordinaryong tao, wala kang magagawa para matulungan sila na maglalast sakanya. Hanggang abot ka lang ng barya kasi di mo pwede isacrifice sarili **** kapakanan para sa iba. Dahil ganun na ang mundo ngayon, sarili ko muna bago iba. Pero masisisi mo ba yung pagiisip na ganun kasi may kanya kanya tayong mga problema na dulot ng pagiging myembro ng society? Duwag tayong lahat. Duwag na tumulong sa abot ng makakaya natin kasi takot tayo na baka tayo naman ang mapunta sa ganung kalagayan kapag binigay natin ang lahat. Tulad ko, pasuicide suicide pa pero duwag akong gawin, hanggang sagi lang sa isip ko, tangina ko eh no? Dahil yung nakakatulong lang talaga yung may tunay na tapang. Katulad ni Mother Teresa ang daming tinulungan at inalagaan, pero ironic dahil nawala ang paniniwala nya sa Diyos dahil sa nakita nya nasobrang hirap na dinadanas ng mga taong inaalagaan nya. Putangina ng Mundo. Bakit ba tayo nandito? Pagtapos nito balik na ko sa normal. Tangina nyo.
Mar 21, 2017
Mar 21, 2017 at 10:20 AM UTC
Teresa climbs on the bus
before the sun, if she has
the fare
to get there, where she
makes the bread; she's been at this
two of her nineteen years
yet she has fears, they will
come for her--green card or not;
though they like her rolls
she kneads the big ***** pulls,
pinches, a sculpting of dough, a laying
of trays, one after another
then, from the Iglesias,
they come, decked in their finery
though she does not see
she only hears the litany
of language she can't comprehend,
a clanging of trays, laughter
the urging of the jefe to work
faster, bake the bread; the communion
wafers did not fill them
now they are here, breaking fast,
forgetting the words they just heard
the songs they sang
Teresa does not complain; she
is glad to feed the worshipers, though
they will never know her name
nor will they stop for
her in the pouring rain,
the blistering sun
Teresa never wavers
next Sabbath will be the same:
dawn, the dough, the oven
it is the work--her hands
which make the bread others break,
the grace granted to serve
holy, holy, holy...
Apr 2, 2017
Apr 2, 2017 at 8:49 PM UTC
Someone collect all the hatred,
and all the vehemence too.
then don't recycle or reciprocate it.
turn it all into something else,
rich and green and full of kindness.
distill it, remove the impurities,
coagulate it away from it's cold
tungsten tensile titanium.
some of us only have to try,
it can be done. Einstein said so;
and Mother Teresa and Gandhi,
and Martin Luther King Jr.
and brother Nelson too.
Someone collect all the hatred,
and all the vehemence too.
then don't recycle or reciprocate it.
turn it all into something else,
rich and green and full of kindness.
distill it, remove the impurities,
coagulate it away from it's cold
tungsten tensile titanium.
encase it in concrete and steel,
bury it with the radioactive waste.
let it lie for it's half life,
in over 40,000 tears.
Dec 9, 2013
Dec 9, 2013 at 3:46 PM UTC
Death I see, that ugly spectre,
Coarsely overshadows youth.
Lame, they look for interaction
With the bondman. Shame, forsooth!
Drowning in the dams of liars
When they could be shining lights!
They believe what e’er is told them,
****** in by the TV sights.
Culture told them there’s no future,
There’s no healing for despair.
Bet they never read the Bible –
Words of LIFE spelt loud and clear.
There’s no need for this attrition
Of our children. Give them truth.
Let them listen to the old ones –
Hard they learned the facts of life.
By the power of scripture they have
Overcome the skull and bones.
Into joy and peace they’re marching.
Youth could follow in those zones.
Up to them to stop and listen.
Perhaps the media got it wrong.
Find a person in their nineties,
Who survived the wars and so on.
They are old because their attitude
Enabled them to plunge right in,
Boots and all in right perspective,
Shake and move, the truth to win.
They’ve believed in right and beauty,
Principles and sacrifice.
Not for them the great self pity
Serving death – man-trap device.
Rather they’ve bent over backwards
To embrace another’s need,
And serving, felt the great dynamic
LIFE FORCE. Yes. They were a breed!
Jan 8, 2014
Jan 8, 2014 at 9:48 PM UTC
Agape.
To love unconditionally.
Attributed to the greats:
Gandhi,
Mandella,
Teresa,
God?
And me.
I offer an alternate:
Agape.
To crawl back repeatedly,
Ignoring a history and future of pain.
Agape noun
Unconditional love. A weakness, not a strength.
Feb 4, 2013
Feb 4, 2013 at 7:23 PM UTC
I am the soft silent sight
nestled in a tree gently
holding hands with emotion.
Together like lovers we intimately
sit with an invisible touch.
Our eyes penetrating darkness
we govern like a loving mother
or angelic force like Mother Teresa.
A shiny moon polishing
a silvery heart cooled
by a vast ocean.
I always fly quietly as I bring
a gentleness into darkness.
Tucking the night up with
the softest quilt, through a pane
of glass in a near by wood you
hear me calling.
I give a rod of stability eternal sight
seen it all before will see it again.
As we hang softly like the moon
in the sky or an Owl in the tree.
I lift people through their night
I carry them with my sight a
tractor beam of light.
As you feel my presence like a
million hands that softly
penetrate.
All holding torches you are
lite like a child who's mother
has come back.
Scooping you up your
darkness falls on
entering my Owls sight.
I am the light that always
surrounds the night .
I am the ever expanding vision
the tide that never turns but
just keeps on rising.
I grow with a bursting force
of an ever expanding universe
as I stretch my eyes they keep
on reaching.
I am the ancient eye placed high
above always unstirred but
filled with feeling.
Like the white of an eye surrounding
a pupil I am the army who circles
around the darkness.
I am the reflection of the velvet
moon sitting on the ocean
threading itself throughout
your being.
Those caught within my sight
will feel a thousand tiny bubbles
of bright light.
Gandolf the white explores
your caves holding his
wisdom stick and lantern.
Unlocking your hidden emotion
giving you magic fighting
of your demon.
I will conquer hell fire with
a gentle trickle finding my path
like a mountain stream passing.
But when I open my heart my wings
the devil will shudder because I hold a
power like the pacific ocean.
So much protection we can find
at night within the Owls sight.
Sep 5, 2015
Sep 5, 2015 at 6:28 PM UTC
I want to run away so badly.
Just end it with everyone.
I'm burning from my own mistakes.
I hate the person I become when you are around.
The reality is that I've never ment anything to you.
Hopefulness has taking me into the realm of delusion.
What is right I see as left.
Your eternal love is really a three minute panting and moaning fest.
How could I be so blind.
Well in truth I was viewing it all and I just wouldn't let go.
I knew it was wrong but I just didn't care.
I apparently don't love myself at all.
If I did you would have seen nothing and I would have remained as Mother Teresa.
So long it's time to grow up and outgrow you.
Let my new roots be firm and pure.
Sep 7, 2015
Sep 7, 2015 at 3:53 AM UTC
When Mother Teresa
Saw the Leaning Tower Of Pisa
She Knew that Julius Caesar
Would renew her visa.
Eating curried pizza
At a bar called Mitzvah
With ex-scrooge Ebenezer
And the Mona Lisa
All three did concur
That nothing defeats
Or beats her.
Jun 6, 2014
Jun 6, 2014 at 7:30 AM UTC
Mother Teresa - love immortal
In frail human frame;
Angel of peace and compassion,
Knew no bounds of caste or creed:
With arms outstretched,
Waded through slums forsaken
To help the poor in their humble homes:
Orphans discarded, dying destitutes,
Deserted cripples and lepers deformed,
Found in her a ministering angel
Whose gentle touch revived hope;
Brought solace and joy.
Unmindful of praise or blame,
To serve the poor was her only aim,
And never did she crave for wealth or fame.
Like St.Francis of Assisi, she prayed -
" Lord, make me an instrument of Thy peace,
" Where there is hatred, let me sow love,
" Where there is injury, pardon,
" Where there is doubt, faith,
" Where there is despair, hope......."
Life inspiring, a splendid saga
Of selfless service and sacrifice.
For ever she lives in the loving hearts
Of those who strive to rid the world
Of sorrow, misery and distress.
****** M.G.Narasimha Murthy
Hyderabad, India. mgnmurthy4@gmail
Oct 30, 2015
Oct 30, 2015 at 11:56 AM UTC
Sai Baba is the most Popular Hindu monk
And mother Teresa is the most beloved Christian nun
Both of them almost reached the state of divinity
by serving the humanity And with a lot of religious piety
Some may think Sai Baba is just a magician
And Mother Teresa is merely a nun
Their arguments sound quite fun
because All the nuns and magicians can’t serve the world
on such a grand scale unless they have divine charisma
Both of them have disciples all over the world
They were treated and revered almost like living gods
As humans they might have suffered from some human follies and foibles
But they proved to the world that SERVICE TO HUMANITY IS SERVICE TO GOD
Let us all pray for the two noble souls
Keeping our religious faiths aside
Apr 27, 2011
Apr 27, 2011 at 6:56 AM UTC
It's Friday
It's pay day
It's time to go get me
Another AR-15
So I can go shoot the breeze
You can't tell me that it's wrong
The 2nd amendment has been around way too long
For you to croon your gun control song
Don't matter what you've got to say
When I've got the NRA on my side
Supporting MY life
But don't worry
If anything, you should be proud
Because the NRA says
No Regulations Allowed!
I don't get why you're so upset
I studied gun safety once
Eight years back
So I got your girl Teresa's back
No, like, I literally just shot her in the back
There's blood everywhere!
Don't scream, I'm telling you because I care
Oh, don't look at me like t h a t
Accidents happen all the time
I'm perfectly capable of handling this gun
You're just out to take me rights
And steal my fun!
Uhm, but forreal could you watch your tone?
I know you care about Teresa
But what about how I feel?
My masculinity isn't set to "criticism permitted" mode
It's on "gun control prohibited" mode
Say anymore and I'll have to go
I'm not gonna lie, the second amendment makes me come alive
Even as other people continue to die
I guess you could say I'm a real guy's guy
Anyways, just because Teresa got hurt
That doesn't mean that gun control would work
Why don't you just consult the CDC
You'll see, they'll side with me
And, no, it's not a funding thing
It's a freedom thing
If anything, you should be proud
Don't be shy, come along now
Support the NRA
No Regulations Allowed!
Jun 15, 2016
Jun 15, 2016 at 3:36 AM UTC
St. Teresa swoons to herself.
The angel’s impish face laughs
At her pain.
Bernini’s operatic sculpture bound
Behind bars.
Perfectionism, restorationism,
OCD.
Outside, a gypsy woman begs
For centimes.
Inside, scaffolding dims Teresa’s glow.
Art sacrificed to the future,
Content to die in darkness.
A monk dozes in his rosary.
Recitation of dreams.
No legend in the sacristy:
Teresa’s book remains
Unread, dull behind glass.
Ecstasy of love: her path toward God.
Aug 15, 2018
Aug 15, 2018 at 8:20 PM UTC
I use ‘oh, my god’ as an expression
not of faith, but surprise,
of wonder at beauty untouched
by ideology or dogma
as if caught, and pulled, from a dream.
I exclaim ‘oh, my god’ when stunned
not by holy ghosts, but the living,
who do kindness as though it were nothing
unmindful of securing safe passage
into heaven, or paradise.
‘Oh, my god’, I cry, when words fall idle
or are muted to quiet reverence.
Where twisted skeins of empiric memory,
rush in crashing surf
of reminiscence and nostalgia.
I am godless, but not without reason
‘oh, my god’ being a slip of historical,
idiomatic vernacular.
Even as curiosity drives me to understand
your own ritualistic, devotional motivations.
Raise the cup, my friend
it gives us both what we need.
For you, transubstantiation
for me a divine and luscious tableaux.
For Saint Teresa in her ecstasy no doubt exclaimed
‘Oh, my god’!
Jan 26, 2015
Jan 26, 2015 at 10:50 AM UTC
What can we do once we are ordinary?
Mother Teresa an ordinary nun, just a woman.
Oscar Romero an ordinary cleric, just a man.
The Beatles an ordinary band, just musicians.
An ordinary office worker changed all of China when he stopped the tanks in Tianamen Square.
An ordinary woman changed the rules about ****** harassment in the American workplace, by accident, just trying to embarrass a Supreme Court nominee.
An ordinary housewife changed the world. In a peaceful way. In a non-violent way. Corazon Aquino toppled the might of the American-backed Marcos regime.
We need moms and dads, teachers and technicians, people who work and people who play.
Pearl divers and trash removers. We need ordinary people doing ordinary things everyday - like being a carpenter - to make our world an extraordinary place.
What can we do once we are ordinary? We can save the world.
Jul 14, 2015
Jul 14, 2015 at 7:59 PM UTC
Edited by Maple, because mine was a rant nobody but she was supposed to indulge. Hahaha. See. I wasn't intending on trending.
I knew a wretched person once. And then. She died.
Now. Condoning death is the fastest method for becoming THE social pariah - for future reference.
But my god. I hated her. I really did. Not simply me; most of our peers felt similar. At least, they did till it was no longer appropriate.
See. Morgan was a ruthless psychopath.
And then she was dead.
Now. As a stranger, if you were to lurk her Facadebook, you'd think she'd been some ethereal messiah. Her web page is now trampled with laments. Kinda like the stampede that killed Mufasa. Her present facadebook now marks a day the devil became synonymous with our homegirl, Momma Teresa.
In what world, right?
The details of the fatality remain insane. Ranging from Ketamine to ****** But I won't illustrate them. Go see it yourself - on Doctor ******* Phil.
And they call me crazy.
Anyways.
I'm sorry, but she was a maniacal parasite with love like shrapnel. She destroyed her lovers, her family, her arsenal of friends by habit. And she did this for fun. So, again, I'm sorry. Sorry I am hardly sorry she died.
That's a lie, though. I'm not sorry at all.
Karma is candy. I'm happy she's gone. Never again to crumple and crush her loved ones to mush as mere eggs to her morning omelette.
And our world is a happier place.
Sue me.
for whatever reason this will not publish or save this particular recount
May 4, 2016
May 4, 2016 at 6:45 PM UTC
There's a crowd of pitch black unicorns at a Chelsea Wolfe's concert.
A crowd of pitch black unicorns moving their onyx hooves and horns
at the rhythm of drones dressed in electric guitars. An acoustic break follows.
The vibrations of the music and dancing cause purple flowers to grow,
purple flowers weaned on blood and sticky black tar. There's a crowd of
unicorns dancing at a Chelsea Wolfe's concert feeding on ladybirds crisps
and dragonflies sticks, that once home will play vinyls on mystic turntables of fire.
The purple flowers grow into vines and try to smother the unicorns
to prevent them from listening to bloodred-dyed vinyls on mystic turntables of fire.
Meanwhile in the corner of a museum S. Teresa of Avila's statue animates by itself, walks
to the window and throwing itself crumbles into a thousand of pieces of marble.
The seventh seal has not been opened yet but the ninth the eleventh and the seventeenth
exploded already, cracked their own wax and started spreading tongues of flames
and water to decimate humanity. A woman dressed in a fifteenth century scarlet outfit
leads the pitch black unicorns to salvation creating a safe haven for them
in Manchester and another one in California. They have in the meantime gone bonkers
and started feeding on each other. Equine teeth suddenly grow carnivorous jaws.
Nothing is left in the two oasis apart from a puddle of blood and a pavement of corpses.
It's 7 a.m. Chelsea has not yet finished her concert and her music blossoms around
played by the mystic turntables of fire. That which remaineth is pitch black light
and the breath of aeons lingering here and beyond and nowhere.
Feb 10, 2016
Feb 10, 2016 at 8:33 PM UTC
A LOVERS QUEST
Just like
Romeo and Juliet’s
Two wolf packs
Very much alike
With dignity and pride
But keeping themselves far and wide
But these two lovers met
And never wanted to depart
The lover’s quest
Began in a land so far and wide
One family on one side
And the other family
On the border
Both looking and growling
On opposites side of the line
Calling the pair back to the pack
Where they reside
The lover’s quest
Broke free
From both their families
Running wild and free
Away from the pain and misery
They travelled the lands
Far and wide
Their quest to find their own
Happiness
Through trials
And their own tribulations
The lover’s Quest
The pair found their own den
Happy as can be
Away from all that was
And their own families
This quest
For our Romeo and Juliet
Is at its best
Their nest was built
More solidly than their own before
Happier, gladly
This quest has led them both
With their own wolf cubs
From heavens store
What more could they have ever asked for?
Our Romeo and Juliet
Rest now in heavens clouds
Happy
Carefree
Just how it should be
Below they see their one and only child
With a love so pure and simple
By his side
© Teresa Joseph Franklin
Please note that this is my Pen Name
30th April 2012
All Rights Reserved
Sep 4, 2012
Sep 4, 2012 at 7:51 AM UTC
Maya Angelou
Frida Kahlo
Helen Keller
Amelia Earhart
Madame Curie
Mother Teresa
Marilyn Monroe
Meryl Streep
Me.
You?
Mar 9, 2018
Mar 9, 2018 at 2:12 AM UTC
Bus full of people breathing inside a small space
Face to face, eyes cast down and explore
A small girl that hides behind bangs
Long thin legs
Tightly fit close
That are shear and expose
Insecurities
And people whisper
People point
But I remember what Teresa told me
A small man gets fired up
But can’t fight, he wobbles drunk
He wants to prove he is big and bad
That the girl who left him
Didn’t have his heart in hand
That he doesn’t bleed
He doesn’t hurt
He punches the next guy he sees
He makes him blue
Makes him bleed
And I remember what Teresa said
Two lovers hold each other tight
Teary eyes on a star lit night
Warm bodies fight the chill
Each wondering if they will
Be able to hold hands like this
Forever or if
Fingers fold into fists
As bitterness steals a kiss
Because the two girls don’t know why
People say they should die
They have always only loved each other
And I remember what Teresa told me
Jun 19, 2013
Jun 19, 2013 at 1:43 AM UTC
~Shawn -vs- Rd~
~
I AM just
an ancient lover Rd
I AM just an infinity loop
dreaming childlike
of you and me mature and free.
Anyones Gold key who can
turn and open my heart's golden lock
to rock my world, pierce my entrails
with his Angels's longest speer,
as the Angel messanger of God
did for Teresa, igniting into her
ecstasy and bliss across time
and space a saint lover
in disguise,
owns my heart, my bridal
chambers my good fortune spin
and two gold infinity loops.
~~~~~
By: Karijinbba
71-74-95-21.
Aug 25, 2021
Aug 25, 2021 at 2:18 PM UTC
Jack and Jill
Went up the hill
To fetch a pail of water
Jack fell down
And broke his crown
And Jill collected the life insurance
And is now a rich ***** with plumbing!
Sep 14, 2010
Sep 14, 2010 at 6:22 PM UTC
Of those Knotted Reasons took us astray
And nearly severed Nine Month's Love within
But take us near, to where our Hearts delay
Delivered some Fettered Laurels therein
Which Sacrifice, un-told by Cryptic Past
That something Bubbly was about to explode
But, burning Albums to hide what should Last
Was a Better Meaning succumbed to implode
I meant this, Mum: Make no Foreign Mistake
That my Tongue and Arms mean something to you
Which for all my Brattiness and Forsake
A Loving Pride I give for all Things true.
Dearly return, to the Womb's Wisdom blows
The Fiery Son advise: Of which he knows.
Mar 13, 2013
Mar 13, 2013 at 2:30 AM UTC