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"tidings" poems
Leg off the table you red face recruit! put on the offensive and break down the bolted door! you are the soul saver the peddle maker the calibrator with colored handbills and front line rhetoric join the masquerade in ivy league style! politicking with cunning guile invisalign smile blackened vile bleeding the funnel with gold plate omega and crocodile shoes get on stage and dance you fool! you are the headline maker the pantomime juggler the compromised closer pull out that 5 page review (bullet points only please) and polish those weathered lines! did you give it your all? the door tags and pleasantries the tidings and clippings the irrevocable claims and postured blames all those impressionable basics put to the test? you know the call (straight from those cold academics) the pie chart gurus and contract killers (complete with bone in finger) whipping their frenzied crew in an all night charade old yellar and the gatekeeper sure seem amused (sharpening their inquest behind closed doors) firing up the shiit storm with those hostile priicks and a slew of insatiable cures there’s laughter from the back room the dripping nose and wavering hand the cut white lines and checkpoint tales the pipeline romance and lacking form (of a basic essential character!) soundboard and narratives for logging time slouching on the steel case over moot points ready to play the 3 weight butter card (if need be) might I remind you it’s only an inquiry (with a slight hint of concern!) surely no malfeasance or deception intended so step back from the melt down and cut to the chase! headlines to breadlines penthouse to outhouse those immoral pursuits have taken their toll (haven’t they?) madman or rogue (you take your pick) for the scores and tabulations are final shame on you for the foul play the bold hypocrisy and order desk games the back stabbing blames and spurious names just sign on the dotted line ~ this banter is killing me
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Jan 4, 2017
Jan 4, 2017 at 1:12 PM UTC
The Recruit
Leg off the table you red face recruit! put on the offensive and break down the bolted door! you are the soul saver the peddle maker the calibrator with colored handbills and front line rhetoric join the masquerade in ivy league style! politicking with cunning guile invisalign smile blackened vile bleeding the funnel with gold plate omega and crocodile shoes get on stage and dance you fool! you are the headline maker the pantomime juggler the compromised closer pull out that 5 page review (bullet points only please) and polish those weathered lines! did you give it your all? the door tags and pleasantries the tidings and clippings the irrevocable claims and postured blames all those impressionable basics put to the test? you know the call (straight from those cold academics) the pie chart gurus and contract killers (complete with bone in finger) whipping their frenzied crew in an all night charade old yellar and the gatekeeper sure seem amused (sharpening their inquest behind closed doors) firing up the shiit storm with those hostile priicks and a slew of insatiable cures there’s laughter from the back room the dripping nose and wavering hand the cut white lines and checkpoint tales the pipeline romance and lacking form (of a basic essential character!) soundboard and narratives for logging time slouching on the steel case over moot points ready to play the 3 weight butter card (if need be) might I remind you it’s only an inquiry (with a slight hint of concern!) surely no malfeasance or deception intended so step back from the melt down and cut to the chase! headlines to breadlines penthouse to outhouse those immoral pursuits have taken their toll (haven’t they?) madman or rogue (you take your pick) for the scores and tabulations are final shame on you for the foul play the bold hypocrisy and order desk games the back stabbing blames and spurious names just sign on the dotted line ~ this banter is killing me
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104
He is a beacon of light amidst the darkness, Whose brightness scatters the night, Whose rays carry light to every corner of the earth. He is the hopeful joy among the sorrow, Whose smile lifts any face, Whose spirit gives hope for a new day. He is the music echoing through the silence, Whose sound clings to every ear, Whose rhythm will never be forgotten. He is the simple inspiration whispered into ears, Whose glad tidings create a picture for a brighter day, Whose hope brings perseverance. How could he, filled with inspiration, emanating kindness, fail to notice his worth? Then all at once, he looks up, surveying the sparkling sky, hearing the robin's tune, admiring the smiles on faces passing by, and knows that his impact on the world is interminable.
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Jun 3, 2016
Jun 3, 2016 at 2:10 PM UTC
His Mark
*May dreams attend The Sandman's watch with happiness and bliss And may those dreams be soothing as the lightest fairy's kiss. May evil tidings yet abide in cells you've buried deep.   Let not the rumors of their shadows ere disturb thy sleep.   Put aside your cares and woes, and for this night abide, where azure waves lap silver shores and hopes drift with the tide.   And so, goodnight.   I wish thee well and when you next arise let nothing stop thy happiness beneath the pastel skies.*
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Jun 7, 2017
Jun 7, 2017 at 12:07 AM UTC
Sweet Dreams
Be smart be alert Do not hide the truth my friend Defend the truth until the end RW Dennen- Come my brothers and sisters   let us be basked in the sun of glory Be we the tears that fall   surrendered on cheeks that tell their tale Let slavery's master-yoke be broken   and cast away Come my brothers and sisters and so do join in our power's struggle   to lend a better day Come my brothers and sisters   may your shining soul be at rest Come be as neighbors no matter far away   let our colors merge one into one is one;     let racism fade away   and let rest us upon the immovable stone      of brotherhood; so powerful we are And so too awaits our resolve enlightened by our hearts of day Then tear that awful blind of ignorance and sing our song till all merge into one And laud that peace that will increase good tidings to us all Be that light until that sight when colors merge and BROTHERHOOD,   to never go away...
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Feb 25, 2015
Feb 25, 2015 at 8:45 AM UTC
Bright light upon my brothers and sisters
∙∙∙◦◦•◎•◦◦∙∙∙ Every year to me, now and then Families and hollies filled with merriment Only steps away of the outside snow Sprawling emotions underneath the mistletoe Glisten, the pavement covered in hue Journey of a thousand crystals falling anew The icicle dew at the gutter lines in row Constellation tales upon the sky-light glow Enchant pines adored by ornaments Treasured memories flew like a firmament Wreaths to every door, signs of triumph & joy Bringing glad tidings from God's little boy Trains in and out of the winter-night Gifts and glory offered with endless blithe Hymns from a choir trailing every post Greetings to an old friend even to the unknown
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Dec 29, 2017
Dec 29, 2017 at 10:56 AM UTC
Each Christmas Time
When letters wait to pounce on a blank page when thoughts crowd the mind like frothing **** in a pond I keep wondering what poetry is to me what poetry is to many Is it not the language of the heart with no intervention of gray matter the unlocking of closed vaults stirring the embers of love, hurt or pain or giving a free rein to fancy and flying on magic carpets to lands forlorn Sometimes it is a glide into a sea of tranquillity an escape from the humdrum of the world a flash of liberation from assaults of pain a sedative to numb the turmoil a sanctuary for a burdened heart a window to look at the world through a companion when one is inconsolably alone a candle flame in a darkening world a cloth line to hang the ***** laundry a water lily blooming in the pool of tears a shelter in homelessness sometimes it is a ladder to climb up to Heavens an angel on wings with tidings of hope peace in a world braced for war Poetry, if you are all these let us fall at your feet bless us in our art may we splurge in fancy and conjure up worlds from words! our poems may not be light houses but could be fireflies on a starless night!
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Dec 20, 2017
Dec 20, 2017 at 11:56 AM UTC
What Poetry Is
Air is perfume-light Elbows sank in my pillow I wake from slumber Chamber door opens Handmaiden brings good tidings from outer Kingdoms Holds a silver tray With scones, jam and honey for some chamomile tea Steaming hot china which I blow and gently sip I hum in delight Come, some scrambled eggs With toast and ice-cold fresh fruits Lemon slice in tea The handmaiden speaks As she opens the curtains The sun shines brightly Many ships have docked My kingdom grows in strength and in its beauty Another handmaid Holding a tray of pure gold I see its contents White and gold letters Written by your regal hands Kingdoms near and wide Handmaids open them So many sweet messages Blessings and congrats While sipping my tea I ask for my page and quill Write with golden ink
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Jul 28, 2018
Jul 28, 2018 at 12:04 PM UTC
Queendom
her milk is him her eyes are full of good tidings, washing my body with lavender soap cake, all the dirt crumbs of a hard life drained into a circle of holes that carry away carings, to places where their squeaking can’t be heard her hands, pillows for a head so sorrow-weighty, her body, her hips, a bed upon to rest, and he wonders, how did he exist before she become his nest, her hair of grass, now, a coverlet for twigs and strings, when then he laid his body down for disturbed sleep her milk is him, a restorative that refreshes his content, how did, once upon a time, he let existence subtract his time on earth without any relativity, time unrecognizable, he was in no one place, pathless, subsidizing nothing, unable to distinguish tween the straight and the curved her milk in him, whitens his soul, she calls out, “*you are my shepherd, my king, my David, my white marble sculpture of our current existence, when you drink the white of me, it is I who is fulfilled, when you write of me, your milk is me*”
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May 26, 2019
May 26, 2019 at 4:39 PM UTC
her milk is him (your are my shepherd, my king, my David)
Now do our eyes behold The tidings which were told: Twin fallen kings, twin perished hopes to mourn, The slayer, the slain, The entangled doom forlorn And ruinous end of twain. Say, is not sorrow, is not sorrow's sum On home and hearthstone come? Oh, waft with sighs the sail from shore, Oh, smite the ***** cadencing the oar That rows beyond the rueful stream for aye To the far strand, The ship of souls, the dark, The unreturning bark Whereon light never falls nor foot of Day, Even to the bourne of all, to the unbeholden land.
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Lament For The Two Brothers Slain By Each Other's Hand
One can easily become disillusioned in a world senselessly Filled with confusion and upheaval – evil at every corner, and it appears as though good has become unsustainable Bleak as tomorrow’s tidings may, I stay on bended knees Looking upward with unanswered questions - let wisdom Rain down like libations, to quench thirst wrought off miles upon life’s rugged road, and before the end has come I want To have left behind a legacy of achievement, taking whatever Motivation I can get to buildup up conviction, until cynicism is converted into action - my spirit soaring like an eagle propels My ambition to loftier heights thought unimagined – so I wait Patiently for a windfall gain, made from choices to facilitate change For I’m indomitable, from a lineage of kings rising above the worlds condition, like a sprightly star among the constellations…
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Sep 24, 2012
Sep 24, 2012 at 2:02 AM UTC
Victory
1593 There came a Wind like a Bugle— It quivered through the Grass And a Green Chill upon the Heat So ominous did pass We barred the Windows and the Doors As from an Emerald Ghost— The Doom’s electric Moccasin That very instant passed— On a strange Mob of panting Trees And Fences fled away And Rivers where the Houses ran Those looked that lived—that Day— The Bell within the steeple wild The flying tidings told— How much can come And much can go, And yet abide the World!
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2.9k
There came a Wind like a Bugle—
Weave a web, A web of lies. Hide it all. All the ties. Magic at your fingertips, demonic tidings, A beauty in the fear. Burned and Tied at the Stake, Ancestors fate. Hide it, Hide it deep Deep inside you Put to sleep. Time will come For you to show Your eyes will find home, your heart will soar Free from your chains, free from restrain. Show the beauty, Show the grace, But never, Hide your face.
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Apr 4, 2014
Apr 4, 2014 at 12:30 AM UTC
Wicked Lullaby
I rose at night and visited The Cave of the Unborn, And crowding shapes surrounded me For tidings of the life to be, Who long had prayed the silent Head To speed their advent morn. Their eyes were lit with artless trust; Hope thrilled their every tone: “A place the loveliest, is it not? A pure delight, a beauty-spot Where all is gentle, pure and just And violence is unknown?” My heart was anguished for their sake; I could not frame a word; But they descried my sunken face And seemed to read therein, and trace The news which Pity would not break Nor Truth leave unaverred. And as I silently retired I turned and watched them still: And they came helter-skelter out, Driven forward like a rabble rout Into the world they had so desired, By the all-immanent Will.
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2.7k
The Cave Of The Unborn
In dazzled astonishment She looked up from her reverie As she heard the flap of wings overhead And saw the flash of laser beams in her dim lit room Before her, stood a winged seraph A radiant silhouette with such gentleness and grace As never beholden on any human face With its hands raised in benediction, It saluted Mary and said “Blessed art thou amongst women… …………………………………… The rest she heard in a trance. Unable to comprehend what was said, The girl looked up nonplussed. Again it said, “The Holy Ghost shall come upon thee And a son shall be born of thee Whom you shall call Jesus” In that nanosecond of a new revelation Did Mary’s world shatter like glassware Or did her ****** womb thrill with new life Did she swim in the waters of joyful tidings? Or gyrate in the sweeping swirl of tidal waves For the girl already espoused to a man In whose dreams his comely form had begun Flitting in and out Was it a moment of silent ravishment? Or of stupefied bewilderment Did a dagger cut through her heart? Or did her soul take wing in flight???
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Dec 15, 2016
Dec 15, 2016 at 5:39 AM UTC
Tidal Waves
Crimson shades that hang on late on cloudy mornings, cormorants that carry tidings from afar reeds that roll over slow in their measured nuances: wind roars, noon bells, distant shorelights at night. I sought glory with love in my heart Midas-like, glory became my gold. Every wave carries a new meaning for one who sees life from the window of death; How many deaths for honour, how many for glory, how many more for perfidy? Ah blessed love, that - when the glitter of glories descends into quicksands of darkness - from whom nothing can ever be snatched away, the one love that shone before my birth as Athene, who I loved as Penelope and who loves me as Calypso, receptacle of worlds!
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Nov 27, 2012
Nov 27, 2012 at 4:12 PM UTC
Light of the small hours | Odysseus
Your picture smiles as first it smiled, The ring you gave is still the same, Your letter tells, O changing child, No tidings since it came. Give me an amulet That keeps intelligence with you, Red when you love, and rosier red, And when you love not, pale and blue. Alas, that neither bonds nor vows Can certify possession; Torments me still the fear that love Died in its last expression.
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2.5k
The Amulet
Hair adorned with rainbow glee good tidings brought to noble thee Bones are weary thoughts are cloudy heart is heavy sighs are breathy But on this day the snow is thick the days are long with brightening sun And your radiance gleams like dragon's treasure tucked away in secrecy your beauty and its measure For love you have to share in oodles soft as silk and satin warm, like labradoodles You give of yourself and want for nothing so here it comes a day of wonder For today you were born and continue to live continue to fight continue to give So receive instead these joyous words to thank you for you for being a friend Though life is heavy and the snow layers thick your smile lights the world and in our minds, stick
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May 14, 2024
May 14, 2024 at 1:05 PM UTC
Brighter As The Snow Wears Thick...
since the end of December 2013 a sad pall has engulfed out village residents continually have tears in their eyes people we've respected and loved are suddenly dying yet another of our village folk we laid to rest to-day so may souls taken in such a short period of time all of them relatively young of age we're shocked we're in a state of disbelief how can a village bear the endless grief of recent time our village only hears news of demise we're in requirement of brighter tidings to lift the dolefulness from our village skies
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Apr 15, 2014
Apr 15, 2014 at 9:27 AM UTC
Village Skies
"See! warp is stretched For warriors' fall, Lo! weft in loom 'Tis wet with blood; Now fight foreboding, 'Neath friends' swift fingers, Our grey woof waxeth With war's alarms, Our warp bloodred, Our weft corseblue. "This woof is y-woven With entrails of men, This warp is hardweighted With heads of the slain, Spears blood-besprinkled For spindles we use, Our loom ironbound, And arrows our reels; With swords for our shuttles This war-woof we work; So weave we, weird sisters, Our warwinning woof. "Now Warwinner walketh To weave in her turn, Now Swordswinger steppeth, Now Swiftstroke, now Storm; When they speed the shuttle How spearheads shall flash! Shields crash, and helmgnawer On harness bite hard! "Wind we, wind swiftly Our warwinning woof Woof erst for king youthful Foredoomed as his own, Forth now we will ride, Then through the ranks rushing Be busy where friends Blows blithe give and take. "Wind we, wind swiftly Our warwinning woof, After that let us steadfastly Stand by the brave king; Then men shall mark mournful Their shields red with gore, How Swordstroke and Spearthrust Stood stout by the prince. "Wind we, wind swiftly Our warwinning woof. When sword-bearing rovers To banners rush on, Mind, maidens, we spare not One life in the fray! We corse-choosing sisters Have charge of the slain. "Now new-coming nations That island shall rule, Who on outlying headlands Abode ere the fight; I say that King mighty To death now is done, Now low before spearpoint That Earl bows his head. "Soon over all Ersemen Sharp sorrow shall fall, That woe to those warriors Shall wane nevermore; Our woof now is woven. Now battlefield waste, O'er land and o'er water War tidings shall leap. "Now surely 'tis gruesome To gaze all around. When bloodred through heaven Drives cloudrack o'er head; Air soon shall be deep hued With dying men's blood When this our spaedom Comes speedy to pass. "So cheerily chant we Charms for the young king, Come maidens lift loudly His warwinning lay; Let him who now listens Learn well with his ears And gladden brave swordsmen With bursts of war's song. "Now mount we our horses, Now bare we our brands, Now haste we hard, maidens, Hence far, far, away."
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Apr 26, 2010
Apr 26, 2010 at 10:58 AM UTC
Battle song for Valkyries
"See! warp is stretched For warriors' fall, Lo! weft in loom 'Tis wet with blood; Now fight foreboding, 'Neath friends' swift fingers, Our grey woof waxeth With war's alarms, Our warp bloodred, Our weft corseblue. "This woof is y-woven With entrails of men, This warp is hardweighted With heads of the slain, Spears blood-besprinkled For spindles we use, Our loom ironbound, And arrows our reels; With swords for our shuttles This war-woof we work; So weave we, weird sisters, Our warwinning woof. "Now Warwinner walketh To weave in her turn, Now Swordswinger steppeth, Now Swiftstroke, now Storm; When they speed the shuttle How spearheads shall flash! Shields crash, and helmgnawer On harness bite hard! "Wind we, wind swiftly Our warwinning woof Woof erst for king youthful Foredoomed as his own, Forth now we will ride, Then through the ranks rushing Be busy where friends Blows blithe give and take. "Wind we, wind swiftly Our warwinning woof, After that let us steadfastly Stand by the brave king; Then men shall mark mournful Their shields red with gore, How Swordstroke and Spearthrust Stood stout by the prince. "Wind we, wind swiftly Our warwinning woof. When sword-bearing rovers To banners rush on, Mind, maidens, we spare not One life in the fray! We corse-choosing sisters Have charge of the slain. "Now new-coming nations That island shall rule, Who on outlying headlands Abode ere the fight; I say that King mighty To death now is done, Now low before spearpoint That Earl bows his head. "Soon over all Ersemen Sharp sorrow shall fall, That woe to those warriors Shall wane nevermore; Our woof now is woven. Now battlefield waste, O'er land and o'er water War tidings shall leap. "Now surely 'tis gruesome To gaze all around. When bloodred through heaven Drives cloudrack o'er head; Air soon shall be deep hued With dying men's blood When this our spaedom Comes speedy to pass. "So cheerily chant we Charms for the young king, Come maidens lift loudly His warwinning lay; Let him who now listens Learn well with his ears And gladden brave swordsmen With bursts of war's song. "Now mount we our horses, Now bare we our brands, Now haste we hard, maidens, Hence far, far, away."
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90
The briny tears have dried The sounding knells are stilled The grieving crowd, dispersed The parting pain, allayed Benumbed lie the dead Beneath the marble vaults Bereft of power and prowess Benighted and beaten. The sun shall never cast its glorious rays The stars shall never their brilliance shed The breeze never shall bring tidings new The showers shall no more drench them through A thoughtful friend sometimes seen around A fervent prayer at times chanted aloud A plaited wreath, rarely laid over A trite rite, randomly carried out There’s none left to mourn or weep Nor anyone to sing, sigh or sob Leaving the dead to rot in the closure of graves To life’s alluring charms, the dear depart. Cold as clay the dead lie so still To be feasted on by maggots and the worms Life with all its glory – defunct Its fever and fret too – extinct. How in vain we run after wealth The power and position we deem so great Shall come to naught within Time’s gloomy vault Yet we run and yet we straggle behind. In vain ends our travail for might Inglorious is our quest after fame Transient turn the riches, we garner Short lived is their gleam and glitter. Oh Lord! Lead us not into illusory charms Deliver us of our avarice to hoard For all that is born and made ‘Must consign to death and come to dust.’
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Feb 6, 2017
Feb 6, 2017 at 6:29 AM UTC
Dust unto Dust
On a bleak and frosty night Vexed and weary two travelers rode Along the pathways-craggy and ragged From Nazareth, trudging miles on end Full pregnant, was she with child Mary -the ****** suffused with Spirit Holy Divinely ordained to bear the Godly Prince Conceived before, she had known her spouse. Abiding in Heaven’s Providence n’ care They had rode past miles behind Far too fatigued by the trip Mary, now badly needed a place to rest. Heading towards the blinking lights Not far from the city’s guarded gate Joseph sighted a tavern-small Perched high on a tiny hill A sense of relief beamed past They have come at last to the journey’s end Finally found a place to rest! An interim home away from home Tethering the donkey outside the gate Joseph helped Mary alight the brute In eager search, he hurried inside With Mary, following with faltering steps. But the couple, to their dismay found Within the tavern, room, there was none For many a man had gathered round To halt there on that freezing night Sundry folk from surrounding lands Had reached Bethlehem for the yearly census Tradesmen selling clothes and cheese Nomads of varying clans and clime Petulant camels, braying donkeys The place was littered with man and beast. The tavern small, so packed to full Had no more space to harbor the crowd Mary and Joseph, though dejected, Were encamped within a manger- warm With tender concern, Joseph joked, To ease the strain on Mary’s face “Gaze upon this palace of gold Where a son shall soon be born to us”! Mary smiled a gentle smile, Humored by her husband’s jest Under the gaze of tethered hosts In veiled privacy of the midnight gloom She gave birth to a radiant child, The great Redeemer to all Mankind The star studded sky suddenly glowed With a rare brilliance never beheld And a celestial voice trailed along Delivering ‘tidings of joy’ to the globe around
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Dec 22, 2016
Dec 22, 2016 at 7:11 AM UTC
A Journey to Bethlehem
On a bleak and frosty night Vexed and weary two travelers rode Along the pathways-craggy and ragged From Nazareth, trudging miles on end Full pregnant, was she with child Mary -the ****** suffused with Spirit Holy Divinely ordained to bear the Godly Prince Conceived before, she had known her spouse. Abiding in Heaven’s Providence n’ care They had rode past miles behind Far too fatigued by the trip Mary, now badly needed a place to rest. Heading towards the blinking lights Not far from the city’s guarded gate Joseph sighted a tavern-small Perched high on a tiny hill A sense of relief beamed past They have come at last to the journey’s end Finally found a place to rest! An interim home away from home Tethering the donkey outside the gate Joseph helped Mary alight the brute In eager search, he hurried inside With Mary, following with faltering steps. But the couple, to their dismay found Within the tavern, room, there was none For many a man had gathered round To halt there on that freezing night Sundry folk from surrounding lands Had reached Bethlehem for the yearly census Tradesmen selling clothes and cheese Nomads of varying clans and clime Petulant camels, braying donkeys The place was littered with man and beast. The tavern small, so packed to full Had no more space to harbor the crowd Mary and Joseph, though dejected, Were encamped within a manger- warm With tender concern, Joseph joked, To ease the strain on Mary’s face “Gaze upon this palace of gold Where a son shall soon be born to us”! Mary smiled a gentle smile, Humored by her husband’s jest Under the gaze of tethered hosts In veiled privacy of the midnight gloom She gave birth to a radiant child, The great Redeemer to all Mankind The star studded sky suddenly glowed With a rare brilliance never beheld And a celestial voice trailed along Delivering ‘tidings of joy’ to the globe around
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We are born not of flesh carved from the visage of mother and father, We are born of nebulae, of a symphony in the snow and the seeking of knowledge we never acquire. We are birthed for good. We are grown in evil. Our lives nothing more than the squealing of wheels as they spin in our sempiternal filth, a footprint in the dust since God said "Let there be fear and malice". Faces of dead, liquored men, shovels in our piracy digging for hidden treasure in the graveyard. So we crawl in the holes and cover each other up. Insulting the demons who pull us through, blessing them with good tidings. We go at our passing, to face the Devil. God as our jury, your hamartia plays witness. I am driven only by my fantasy of tomorrow. What a way to live. What a way to die.
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Oct 29, 2013
Oct 29, 2013 at 5:11 PM UTC
Please Ignore the Intoxicated Rambling of an Underage Girl
O-One has been kept waiting for a long spell N-Not knowing if one can get out of this hell E-Endless days one has spent in an unlit well H-Hope seems not to be journeying one's way U-Under clouds of darkness one shall e'er stay N-Never shall one see a bright sunny day ray D-Deemed to be unfit to walk that old hallway R-Realizing this fact sure makes one feel gray E-Excluded from the folks at the homely bay D-Dare one say one is mired in a boggy clay A-All is lost one can't redeem one's former place N-Negotiations with other are now a void space D-Dear me one is in a position of sheer disgrace E-Ever so badly one did behave all that time ago I-In hindsight good manners needed to be the go G-Grave is one's standing and so very full of woe H-Heck the word one called when one had to go T-Tidings of ejection delivered by the boss honcho Y-Yonder one was told on the spot to quickly go D-Down in the dumps one has been for so long A-Away at a lone outpost well out of the throng Y-Yearning to once again hear their joyful song S-So one is on an island for those who do wrong O-Only three chances did one get at that game F-Four weren't going to be allotted to this dame F-Folly to think that one could avoid any shame L-Leniency not given one has to wear the claim I-In the finally wash up one's lesson is to be tame N-Needling the boss honcho scrubbed one's name E-Erased one shall be for being a bad egg dame
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Apr 23, 2013
Apr 23, 2013 at 3:38 AM UTC
One Hundred and Eighty Days Offline (Acrostic Poem)
Yellow jackets’ yellow jackets Licorice made of Venison Stand over there, quite queer, my dear While I drink a handle of Jameson **** wizards and Eddie Izzard Speak to me in glad tidings Astronauts, sweet lizards' space gizzards Jump over the back of book bindings ***** the misconceptions Drive off the road into gravy Split the checks, and **** on decks Mistake my sound perceptions Habeus Corpus Parlay with *** Start with darts And move to the porpoise
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Mar 13, 2013
Mar 13, 2013 at 4:26 PM UTC
Walking on a Sunny Day