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Cindra Carr Dec 2010
Last night I dreamed again.
I tripped the soul right out of me.
Danced dashed against the moon.
I dove through the night.
Skinned through it to get to you.
Slipped flitted out of my body.
Just slunk over to you.
I screamed my rage at you!
Tore out my heart for you.
If sleep is the little death,
Then I'll see you again tonight.

cc1210
Alyssa Underwood Feb 2016
Perilous times are foretold for the end
When the one who betrays might as soon be a friend
When he who walked with you in the midst of God's throng
Proves a broken-off reed who didn't belong
When the crowd turns away from the truth they once knew
To embrace a strange fire of the enemy's brew
When the mystic is favored much more than the teacher
And intolerant is the name reserved for the preacher

For myriads have tasted of the heavenly gifts
Then at some unknown point the set compass shifts
And they show by the fact that they do not endure
That they never knew the One Whose salvation is sure
For He's promised He cannot lose one of His own
Yet His wheat grows with tares that His enemy's sown
So these goats dressed as sheep might say all the right words
But pasted-on wings do not turn moles to birds

They learn the same Scriptures and enjoy the same songs
But haven't yet come to the cross for their wrongs
Haven't taken it up and followed the Lord
Have never been born of His Spirit Who is poured
Into all whom the Father has chosen for His Son
Those predestined before the world had begun
So among the elect in the pews sit the dead
Unregenerate men taking up masks instead

And some will sit thus for the rest of their life
While others walk away overcome by the strife
Of their trials, distractions, desires or greed
Rather trusting the world to provide all that they need
For discipleship costs and most think it too high
A price now to pay of their self who must die
Most are tripped by the weight of that covenant walk
Which accompanies a faith that goes past mere talk

It is God's grace alone which grants genuine belief
And with it repentance for proud or for thief
While the course remains bumpy until dying day
The saved may fall down, but they can't fall away
For salvation from first to the last is of the Lord
And His Spirit within is what keeps saints secured
It's our duty and privilege to obey and abide
Yet how could we without His power inside?

Now besides a new fuel we receive a new nature
The old man is dead, we are made a new creature
One that's being conformed to the image of Jesus
So we live to please Him now and not to please us
But because of this switch the world is enraged
For when light shines in darkness its evil's front stage
They hate us the same as they hated our Master
And as time nears its close their fury swells faster

Persecution's been promised for all who are godly
Could be mocking, rejection or harm that is ******
It cannot compare though to what's been exchanged
In the gift of redemption for our souls long-deranged
So we dare not forget when the blows are received
That those doing the punching are still dead and deceived
Still locked in the grip of the enemy's force
Still blinded by sin, still enslaved to its course

Just judgment will come if they do not repent
If they keep on rejecting God's Lamb Who was sent
So it's best left to Him to defend us against
The disdain and discord of a world that's incensed
For they're already judged who refuse to believe
And we would be too but for mercy's reprieve
Being saved from God's wrath that is soon to be poured
Out full strength onto those who His truths have ignored

In the meantime the Father's maturing His children
Forging character depth through both trials and discipline
So let's not lose hope in the face of our sorrow
But rejoice that He's working it out for tomorrow
Since we have a sure treasure stored for us in heaven
And we'll soon be set free from all sin-staining leaven
Let's press on toward Christ's likeness worked in us by grace
And look hard for first moments our eyes see His face!
"However, I consider my life worth nothing to me, if only I may finish the race and complete the task the Lord Jesus has given me—the task of testifying to the good news of God’s grace."  Acts 20:24

Thank you Melissa Pagano, Eddie Starr, Lidi Minuet, my Soul Survivor sister Catherine and many others for your examples of boldness to proclaim the truth of the Gospel of Jesus Christ! You are true inspirations to me!!
Alyssa Underwood Sep 2017
Perilous times are foretold for the end
When the one who betrays might as soon be a friend
When he who walked with you in the midst of God's throng
Proves a broken-off reed who didn't belong
When the crowd turns away from the truth they once knew
To embrace a strange fire of the enemy's brew
When the mystic is favored much more than the teacher
And intolerant is the name reserved for the preacher

For myriads have tasted of the heavenly gifts
Then at some unknown point the set compass shifts
And they show by the fact that they do not endure
That they never knew the One Whose salvation is sure
For He's promised He cannot lose one of His own
Yet His wheat grows with tares that His enemy's sown
So these goats dressed as sheep might say all the right words
But pasted-on wings do not turn moles to birds

They learn the same Scriptures and enjoy the same songs
But haven't yet come to the cross for their wrongs
Haven't taken it up and followed the Lord
Have never been born of His Spirit Who is poured
Into all whom the Father has chosen for His Son
Those predestined before the world had begun
So among the elect in the pews sit the dead
Unregenerate men taking up masks instead

And some will sit thus for the rest of their life
While others walk away overcome by the strife
Of their trials, distractions, desires or greed
Rather trusting the world to provide all that they need
For discipleship costs and most think it too high
A price now to pay of their self who must die
Most are tripped by the weight of that covenant walk
Which accompanies a faith that goes past mere talk

It is God's grace alone which grants genuine belief
And with it repentance for proud or for thief
While the course remains bumpy until dying day
The saved may fall down, but they can't fall away
For salvation from first to the last is of the Lord
And His Spirit within is what keeps saints secured
It's our duty and privilege to obey and abide
Yet how could we without His power inside?

Now besides a new fuel we receive a new nature
The old man is dead, we are made a new creature
One that's being conformed to the image of Jesus
So we live to please Him now and not to please us
But because of this switch the world is enraged
For when light shines in darkness its evil's front stage
They hate us the same as they hated our Master
And as time nears its close their fury swells faster

Persecution's been promised for all who are godly
Could be mocking, rejection or harm that is ******
It cannot compare though to what's been exchanged
In the gift of redemption for our souls long-deranged
So we dare not forget when the blows are received
That those doing the punching are still dead and deceived
Still locked in the grip of the enemy's force
Still blinded by sin, still enslaved to its course

Just judgment will come if they do not repent
If they keep on rejecting God's Lamb Who was sent
So it's best left to Him to defend us against
The disdain and discord of a world that's incensed
For they're already judged who refuse to believe
And we would be too but for mercy's reprieve
Being saved from God's wrath that is soon to be poured
Out full strength onto those who His truths have ignored

In the meantime the Father's maturing His children
Forging character depth through both trials and discipline
So let's not lose hope in the face of our sorrow
But rejoice that He's working it out for tomorrow
Since we have a sure treasure stored for us in heaven
And we'll soon be set free from all sin-staining leaven
Let's press on toward Christ's likeness worked in us by grace
And look hard for first moments our eyes see His face!
~~~

"'However, I consider my life worth nothing to me, if only I may finish the race and complete the task the Lord Jesus has given me—the task of testifying to the gospel of God’s grace.'"  
~ Acts 20:24
Vicki Kralapp Aug 2012
WHY
Bleeding, I am bleeding
my lifeblood is draining away.
You’ve taken my will, my love, my all,
Why?

A lifetime spent with you,
endless memories waking me now
reminding me of what we once were .
Why?

Friend? Where can I find you?
You disappeared in one surreal moment,
leaving only your image.
Why?

Under your foot I am crushed,
broken and bruised; in crisis.
You pushed me away and finished it.
Why?

I have tripped over life
and fallen headlong into the abyss
without you.
Why,  always why?
All poems are copy written and sole property of Vicki Kralapp.
William Eberlein Feb 2013
I tripped over my heart,
and fell into you...

****!

Now what do I do?
Cindra Carr Dec 2010
She broke hard right in my grip
Sweat poured life roared
Muscles **** skipped a beat
She slip tripped against my line
My lips flicked fire left a trail
Blazed hard left against a wall
She licked the last light flaring
Tongue tight flickered out
Cries begged out battered my ears
Soft shudders arched up singing their sighs
Lost tight life spurred beyond
Drifting down soaked straight through
Light fingers whispering down
She broke hard right in my arms

cc1210
Kathleen Sep 2016
Happiness bled all over my bathtub.
Silliness dried at my feet.
But maybe it's just the parts that we're made of.
Maybe that's all that we mean.

And dreaming suddenly preferred me.
And themes suddenly addressed me

Mirrors and make-up, tripped over playing cards.
Drowned in the chivalry,
Heroes and worshiped gods that were made up,
furrowed their brows at me.

And dreaming suddenly preferred me.
And themes suddenly addressed me.
july hearne Jul 2018
it has been twenty years
since i once met him in person

once

we met in las vegas
and stayed at a cheap motel
in different rooms

and that is what i have been remembering
the most lately
is the cheap motel
as if there were marbles on the carpeting
of the motel floor
and i slipped on one

the marble game, just something to do
winner wins and keeps on winning
once i am tripped
even before i have fallen to the floor
for it is certain i will fall to the floor

tiny marbles to lose
tiny marbles rolling by
he aimed his tiny marbles at me
he shot his tiny marbles at me

i laid on the floor
for many years after
an easy place to be
got up, fell down, up once more
finally fell down and just stayed down

on the floor not seeing how
life could ever get decent again
a whole lifetime ahead of me
with no *** appeal
and nothing to fall back on

just a tiny marble
for my back to fall on
new skin too rough for any other skin
Remembering the days
Of receiving praise

The days of being loyal
To those who are royal

I remember a battle
A battle against the Ratel

The Ratel was a beast
And we were his feast

He feasted on us with his jaws
And pushed us down with his paws

It was a battle of three forces
And I see the enemies horses

The horses dropped their riders
And left their lost drivers

The Ratel came and fought
And came at the last rider at a trot

With his paw raised
And the driver dazed

I lunged with my sword
And the Ratel roared

And with a glare he fell
And then I heard a yell

A yell from the driver
A yell of thanks for he is a survivor

The battle won
Our work is done

We journeyed home
And received a mission to attack Rome

And so we went
And there we spent

A year of fighting
And a year of writing

During a fight
I faced a knight

He came at me
I did not flee

And then I tripped
And my helmet flipped

The man gave me my blade
And said "A debt is paid"

I returned home
And began to roam

Never forgetting
My tale worth telling
Knit Personality Apr 2018
I have with volume spoken my affection,
And sung in verses seeking you to move,
And vainly sought to win, by your election,
Those diverse charms which you do daily prove.
I have with little skill writ imitations
Showing both want of wit and want of school:
They cast bright light upon my limitations,
And show myself to be a jest'ring fool.
Yet all these doings would I do again
If Time tripped backward and did them repeal,
For when I think on you I can't refrain
From finding words which soundly speak my zeal.
    For you, embarrassments though I'll amass,
    I'll stand before the world a braying ***.

#
Sam Hawkins Oct 2015
What's your take on walking?

My body serves my soul
and tells me how to go.

My heart, affixed -- aims to show.
These ways I’ve walked in my shoes and stockings.

I've looked to heaven’s stars, to daylit clouds,
when I've stepped out, or dropped my gaze
to track the ground.

Yes, it is true—whoever passed me by
could have taken offense and supposed
I lacked my confidence.

And ofttimes, I've strode out straight and true
as if toward a far mist horizon.

Any un-manifested future,
even peek-a-boo,
can be comprehended? 

I should doubt it.

And if I wished to address an occasional
in-the-dumps, lost-at-sea feeling,

I'd shut my eyes, and walk backwards --
owl-like, 360 swivel my head.

Backwards blind circumspection seemed worth a try --
Who am I? I'd story where I’d been.

In my most spontaneous of nature foot-trafficking,
in roulette walk; my spin of gun chamber click--
ant, spider, beetle, and the occasional sighing snail
must have fled my shadow shoe?

As slow drift clouds in a sky game would play
with the sun to hide—creatures had sought me out,
sung their farewells?  (it was an excellent day to die)

Let me tell it, as it had happened today,
and truth says how.

My feet, they had gotten to waltz-walking.
O how my body and soul
danced a-fancy free.

Love was brimming out of me; happiness
whispered her wordless name; and
my tongue tripped nonsensical.

So if, at last, you've kept up a pace with me
in sympathetic striding, then perhaps
you'd surmise:

there never can be a flat-footed walking me, abiding,
especially when I spout off with poem-talking.

Now, what’s your take on walking?
Jack L Martin Aug 2018
I say unto you with a sniveling snarl,

Will you go on and be friends with an owl?

Why, YES! I said boldly with a pompety grin

My new owl friend will be lucky and win!

He will hoot and toot a most beautiful song

He will win a singing contest and sing all day long

We will take all his winnings and spend it on mead

We'll sing, drink and be merry, indeed!

we'll capture a horse and dress it in tweed

then ride to the sunset on our horse named, "Sardine!"

Sardine might get hungry so we'll feed him some hemp

We'll lay down to rest on a bed that's unkempt

We'll wake in the morning to see Sardine's fate

Sardine has died from starvation this date

The sorrow we feel is so hard to beat

So opon his flesh we started to eat

w'ell pair it with taters all mashed in a pan

we'll eat up our dinner as fast as we can

but hold on a second, how silly are we!

We tripped on some mushrooms we found on a tree!

our minds started swirling and twirling; so dizzy!

my owl friend shrieked and then started to tizzy

he gouged out my eyes and laughed at my pain

I fell to the ground and made peace with my name

for I never did say from whence I came

cause stories like this are not easy to tame

I lay here in misery, my friend's not to blame

It's all in my head, this silly word game
Lily Feb 19
i.
The sight of it brings back memories of
Your rival team, confronting you on the line of scrimmage,
The rain pouring down, stinging your face,
Your breath misting in the arctic air.

ii.
The smell of it brings you back to that Friday night
When you tripped up the bleachers and
Spilled popcorn all over yourself because
Her red hair and bright smile made you stop in your tracks.

iii.
The clang of the pins against each other
Follows you in the hallway wherever you go,
Reminding you of that triumphant feeling
That took over when your basketball team won districts.

iv.
The warm feeling that fills your heart when
You give it to her, the red-haired bright-smiled girl,
Matches the warm feeling she feels when she
Puts it on, drowning in your scent.

v.
You know that years later, after you’ve left high school
And everything about that place behind,
The sight of that jacket will bring back all the memories
Of football games, Friday nights, championships, and her.
we don't know what we have until it's gone
Jeannery Dec 2018
funny the way we laugh
but we can't stay like that
some times we are rough
someone's always putting a dot

i hope you get it
but I think you don't, I bet
I want it to be fixed
I hate it, you broke us at six

tired, I'm losing my grip.
i dont wanna lose you.
but what can I do?
**** girl, you already tripped.

and now that we're over
i want you to remember
the night we kissed on november
wretched, I lost my lover.

--jeannery a.




an untitled poem for the person who gave me reasons to write again, and now she's giving me reasons to stop again but I've been thinking about it. The pain she gave, the more my words are becoming powerful. Oh, i need her like the poet needs pain. Untitled, x.
Kay Reed Feb 2014
I.
Everyone's heard that saying,
the one about not making homes out of people,
but that's a hard rule to follow,
especially when its midnight and cold out and
he pulled over on the side of the highway
because he "just knew" where to find you walking alone.
Its even harder when he offers you his coat
and wraps his arms around you
and you feel safer surrounded by scarred skin
and whiskey blood than you did in the
walls of a house you've never considered home.

II.
My mother told me once that I shouldn't
make someone my first choice if they
only made me an option. And my father
chimed in with a comment about
how I was a young, naive teenage girl who didn't know
a **** thing about love.
They may have been right about falling
for the wrong boys but its hard when
every single one of them put their foot out
and tripped you as you walked by them that
one day in April at the local library.

III.
A homeless man once told me that I
should be careful because "the drugs
might help for awhile but the fall
will always be lower than the high"
and for the longest time I wrote that on
my arm in a marker that promised
it was permanent but would always wash off
in the shower and that's
when I realized that yes, **** is bad, but
love is a worse drug and
things that promise to stick around never do.

IV.
I once played my favorite song on repeat every night
for three months and by December I could tell you
exactly what second breaths
were taken and where the drums were loudest
and when the guitars got a little shaky
because of sweaty hands. And its February
now and that song came on the radio last weekend
and I turned it off so fast my head spun a little
bit because now instead of ceremonials
and drowning, that song makes me think
of that time I was so broken I couldn't get off the floor.
To be continued.
TD Apr 20
Oh Dear Me,

I pray I never look like my own poems. I’m sure I’d boast the most pitiful disheveled facade ever.  

How does a poet look? I imagine I wear the hang dog look like a banner. If a lip could drag any more most assuredly  I’d trip over it. If regret was a person they’d be the most trending topic since the Furby.

How do you identify a poet? Look for the most distracted person in the crowd or the morose one with dreams in their eyes.

...A hint of a sun ray crossed my path once and I tripped right over it.

Signed
bemused muser
aka distracted driveler
And this is how I think. Welcome to the jungle compadres hope you brought your Jeep.
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