"uncorrupted" poems
**I urge that we make ourselves proud… of us
I urge that we go into and come out of these polls sober minded, responsible, uncorrupted, without ‘fight’ or ‘fuss’
Uncorrupted
I urge that a joyous feeling of an evolving nation moving forward be the only thing we can, in hindsight, say erupted… this upcoming Monday, the following Tuesday
I would like to state that a people gunning for peace in these coming days is the only topic I would like to be following in the news today
We should see what’s coming as the change of guard it is… and not as a dreaded doomsday
You may be black… I may be white, or vice versa… and that’s alright
We shouldn't even be asking ourselves “Who’s grey?”
I will vote with one heart for one country… my country
A country in which I’m confident can keep the peace, you see, we’re kind of good at this
I know this because we've had quite a bit of practice
I know this because deep down we all want to make peaceful transitions be the Kenyan way
I know, I hope… and whenever necessary, I pray
Happy voting.**
Mar 1, 2013
Mar 1, 2013 at 1:02 AM UTC
******
A symbol of denial, congeniality, and assurance of love;
the fate of maternity, motherhood, that is witnessed
and cherished from afar.
From a sacred little haven;
from a struggle of motherly defense.
O ******
Temptations are to you never a bother,
in the tempests of lush dreams,
the draining of purity,
and veritable sensations.
Steadiness is your notion;
it barely leaves your mind
you may be deeply hurt
but never hurt,
you may be a stranger
but your grace is your power.
Truth that is unpardonable,
veraciousness at my simplest words,
clarity that is gleaming in your eye,
a token of pleasure but indestructible affection;
adorable as you are,
serenity is beyond question;
dreams are but inseparable from your docile life.
O ****** the sweetness and gentleness of thy eyes
are my irreplaceable silence,
my appraised soul,
and my most resolute
and irrepressible invocation.
O ****** one that is so rare a rose
Many as in the May-day dance are tainted;
marks of annoyance, omens of indulgence.
With hunger for nothing but moans;
unsober groans, and quickening breaths in paces of outward satisfaction;
intoxicated desires but unloving movements;
on the grounds for endless dancing;
there is the thirst for grips, the grossest of stateliness!
Voluptuous romance, perfidious touches, and
false-hearted toys!
In the wakeful dreams of which
I long for you, a handful of thy chastest kisses!
I pray for your hands, so delicate
as mine, how they shall fit into each other!
I long for your lips, your spotless, uncorrupted cheeks,
My demand is for your hands;
for sanity, and sincerest cordiality
Despite of my guilt and former unconsciousness
I shall amend my grief for you,
for you only,
for oureth perfect, unconquerable happiness,
and the union of our souls
in a day of holy matrimony.
Dec 19, 2012
Dec 19, 2012 at 7:35 AM UTC
In the shade of the freeway
The pretenders stalks his prey
Innocence quite uncorrupted
Until today.
In the shade of the willow tree
You lay here next to me
Draped in Spanish moss
Cicada symphony.
In the shade of the old motel
Feels like she's got to sell
Cigarette lights up the night
Sees a face she knows too well.
Jul 22, 2011
Jul 22, 2011 at 6:43 AM UTC
#You are beautiful forever--
the core of who you are..
still wholly uncorrupted,
is made in the very image of God--
It is intertwined with your flesh
so that your flesh may become healed.
But your flesh is immersed in
the stupidity, placed there by others, not you.
But you are the one that still chooses
to believe its ******** message--
The one that says it will not work
or that it's all too much
or that no one cares, anyways
or that you are not worthy
of the magic that is in you.
The relational part of your own healing
that already exists within you
will come to you from those
who love you enough
to want to tell you the truth--
That the message your traumatized flesh, carries
is nowhere near the truth, but instead
is immersed inside of the lie.
I tell you the truth, in response to your
acknowledgement of my faith in you
and you respond by treating me as if
you have no value for me whatsoever.
What tells you inside of yourself
to respond that way?
So, I make a play for you again,
not to make you mine..
but to remind you of who you truly are.
All of the healing you will ever need
is already inside of you.. through the
Image-bearing nature of the very core
of who you are. Its deep ache to permeate
your broken flesh is held at bay
by Love's beautiful choice to yield
to your own freedom of autonomy
Because love, without freedom
is not love at all--
but only control.. with a smile.
I weather your storms
because not even your own lack of
believing in yourself will ever
stop me from believing in you.
--And yes.. you are at times difficult--
sometimes to such a degree, that the dream
you actually are to me.. at those times
can feel to me as if instead,
like a bad nightmare..
But that is only the stupidity, of your flesh
and your own temporary stupidity of actually
believing that, in itself.. as if to be life..
and as if to be you.
You are my beautiful, forever
that will never, ever change.
One day you will see, beautiful girl.
I know that one day, you will see
#
Jun 8, 2021
Jun 8, 2021 at 5:52 PM UTC
Your hands have seen the inside
of a carborator. You took apart a
hard drive and called it procreation.
They've been blackened by grease and
bloodied in your desperate attempts
to clear the clouds out of your head.
Seattle is our ocean, water all around
to drown away bad memories and forget
the sunshine of our conception.
Rain can cover up scars, hurt, and spilled
ideas, take them far away to different oceans.
But never our own foreign lake, somewhere
close to Mount St. Helens, or so we thought.
Could our hands ever touch such a pure,
uncorrupted pool as holy as the depths
of your eyes? Would it wipe clean the
slate, dirtied over years of poor decisions?
Your cloudy eyes tell me different.
Oct 5, 2013
Oct 5, 2013 at 6:32 PM UTC
in the weeds where the dark bees
believe in dark dreams; savoring the frostbitten
nostalgia of wet mittens and smokestacks
hacking hearth-smog and dingy bitters
against clouds from a nameless
grudge... spawn from downcast holly.
where red berries
gasp for yellow
in the crotch of a wooden Fluegelhorn
sprouting from the branch
of a hedge without
Lips.
But a mouth full of snow.
II
in the weeds where the dark bees
believe in atoms of uncorrupted joy and pollen.
where they collude with silent majorities
and swindle sunlight for a spawnsong
anchored to the beak of a kestrel...
shrieking the maniacal disquiet
of a perfect moment.
rattling the hinges -
adored.
without
a key.
May 4, 2018
May 4, 2018 at 7:33 PM UTC
This is the shorter edited version of our story. It tells you the facts, but it doesn't tell you the why. It leaves a lot of blanks that you can fill in, so it could be about your own highschool experience. If you want to know our story, read the unedited version.
There were five of us.
Freshman who grew up to be seniors
There was the oldest, the skinny one
He was tall and awkward
He was so quiet and shy
He only texted
He was uncorrupted
He was a lover
Then there was the Latino
Amazing athletic talent
A great friend
Funny as hell
Romantic and gentle
Loyal and patient
Next came the little one
Obedient and but passionate
Younger than everyone
Guileless and enchanting
In love with the latino
The most bendable, changeable one
Also there was the clown
Everyone’s friend, no one’s best friend
Wannabe family man
Strangely perceptive
Always smiling
Ladies’ man
And then there was me.
Full of surprises
Loud, rebellious, crazy
Fearless, childish
Independent and devoted
Steady and never-changing, slightly judgmental
That was us.
We were all connected, but also independent
The boys fought
Mostly over the little one
Then we fell apart.
We’re almost unrecognizable
The tall one, the oldest
Got his first girlfriend
He befriended so many girls
But secretly was dreaming of the little one
He’s leading his brother
And he doesn’t even know it
The latino is mostly the same
He doesn’t fight as much
But he never got over the little one
Now he just gets admirers
He’ll grow out of high school
He already knows how to do life
The little one got so lost along the way
But I decided to stick around cuz she’s my best friend
She’s already taking college classes
She’s working with children
Now she’s planning her life
But she doesn’t seem happy
The clown found himself friendless
He made a lot of dumb mistakes
He still hangs around
He parties and smokes
To hell with being good
At least he’s accepted his fate
And I’m lost too
I don’t party or drink or smoke or have ***
But I’m losing my religion
Bad things have happened to me
I’m no better than my friends
I’m sad I’m no longer special
And so we’re lost
Some are on the mend
But we made it through high school
We got so messed up along the way though
I drive home listening to Queen
The clown showed me that one song
And I cry because we are the champions
Jan 28, 2013
Jan 28, 2013 at 1:48 PM UTC
I created a ray to save the world.
We had come too far,
had lost ourselves, it seemed to me
and we were taking the Earth along with us
into the abyss.
Too much knowledge: too much thought.
We needed to go back.
And so I created the Great Devolver Ray
and stood, trembling, by the trigger.
This would return us
to our basest animal selves.
Would tune us perfectly into Nature,
re-thread us into the fabric of Creation
destroy the wall between Natural and Unnatural.
Pure uncorrupted survival: nothing more.
And so I stood, on the brink,
unsure as all great revolutionaries must be,
put my hand in place,
and pushed.
And the ray burst forth
and we were transformed
into the pure ******* creatures that Life demanded.
And absolutely nothing changed
at all.
Nov 24, 2013
Nov 24, 2013 at 8:31 AM UTC
Like a deeply buried and well hidden time capsule...
My mind preserves our memories
Each kiss is protected with the same
Delicacy and gentleness as the moment given.
The softness and tenderness of every touch
Remains un-withered and in it's purest condition.
My heart safeguards our Love
The innocence sealed in, it remains untouched
And untainted in this stronghold.
Shielded from days light, it goes uncorrupted
By the realities of this cold world.
My eyes give sanctuary to the secrets of our blended souls
Locking away passion and understanding
That was beyond the human realm.
Encrypting our story so that it is exclusively
For only us to know and tell.
My body is here, just as you left me
Keeping watch over these treasures
Concealing them from all who might discern
I am here, longing for you
And awaiting your return
©Tina Thompson 2012
Jan 24, 2012
Jan 24, 2012 at 10:14 PM UTC
We never obliged ourselves with any sort of passion or alignment with natures splendor, we just flip-flop'd about like disenfranchized plastic pieces of footwear; Fleetingly and disparingly as we float adrift through a toxic sea of consumerism, entranced with the notion of celebrity, swirling and whirling around until we undoubtabley wash ashore onto the pristine beaches of someones elses uncorrupted, isolated and darkly pigmented subconscious. Ready and willing to establish order in the magnitude of exploitation and apathy. As we scream freedom from tryanny, TV to TV, a bunch of muted and silenced over commercialized under adulterated humans trickle fed lies through screens. Everyone knows but who is speaking up, As Miley Circus flies across the manufactured dream a handful of youth stand up and puke as they throw there hands up like the ones before them and say "this isn't my scene!"
Oct 25, 2013
Oct 25, 2013 at 5:51 AM UTC
The rain falls, a soft pitter-patter in the background
Over it plays our music, calm and sweet
A song of love lost, never to be found again
Sad music, the best we have
Outside the windows, we watch the world pass us by
The rain distorting images, refracting light
Making the world a foregin, beautiful place once more
Like when we were children
Uncorrupted by the cynicism we develeop as protection
From a cruel cruel world
You drive, while I sit passenger
We don't talk
Words would only spoil the moment
With the rain, and the music
Your hand and mine, intertwined
We achieve a state of peace, tranquility
Perfection
And then
SWERVE
No more
Oct 13, 2012
Oct 13, 2012 at 1:23 AM UTC
Outstretched bays,
con-caved crevasses, chevrons two by two.
At force through the mountains,
counting the moments as the seconds slip through the hour glass.
The hours pass, alas.
The quay whispered in fleeting moments,
the gradient of the sand permeates against the soles of your feet.
Soon that notion is washed away as the tide of the ocean collides with the tip of your toes.
Take me home,
or take me somewhere new at least.
How can I rest in peace when your life's in pieces and you second guess every second thing I say?
I'm broken now, outspoken and jaded from the days despair.
You're desperate and you'll never be the same but we go on as if nothings happened and as if nothing matters then,
nothing will change.
Take me back to the daybreak,
take me back to your uncorrupted mind and youth,
speak your truth to me one last time so we can go home together and never go
b a c k
Jun 7, 2015
Jun 7, 2015 at 11:45 AM UTC
A strange soft stirring begins in my heart
I’m not sure what caused this fluttering to start
Like innocence still uncorrupted captured in butterflies
Except my stomach is no longer where the majority flies
But just a little while ago a few still hovered there
But to trap or imprison them I wouldn’t dare
There hides a few more in the lungs in my chest
Only flap wings when I can’t catch my breath
When silence is the single sentence I have to not speak
Your smile leaves me speechless
Knees growing weak
No clock
No noise
All surroundings fade away
Colors suddenly emerge where before was only grey
Waiting for your melodic voice to disrupt that magic spell
Heaven momentarily suspended til one word snaps me back into hell
The illusion of perfection not once falters or affrights
As you come closer the swarm inside my body takes off in simultaneous flight
It’s mindblowing the way my senses react when you are near
How you still manage to give me butterflies even after all these years
Oct 24, 2020
Oct 24, 2020 at 9:06 PM UTC
She's a crazy blonde and she's funny
She can do no right and she can do no wrong
An astronaut and a 2000 year old genie
In a bottle and somehow they've to get along
Barbara Eden and Larry Hagman are the stars
Of the show hilarious in awkward moments
"Is my master upset with me?" She always asks
Yet coy when he can get whatever he wants
Winks and nobs transformed in the blink of an eye
Appear or disappear "your wish is my command"
Or "master I'm at your service." She'd say but sly
Pony tailed girlish genie often can't comprehend
Master's orders disobeyed as he acts a fool
Uncorrupted innocently gazed hands in my chin
On deserted island genie ******** clad beautiful
I was too young to know to wish for to imagine
Nov 25, 2017
Nov 25, 2017 at 9:59 AM UTC
The problem
With
Poli-
Tricks-
They mention every
"God"
But the only
God-
And they wonder
Why their lost in
Misery-
Ashamed
In darkness
Falls- evolution
In schools
Meaning no
(Morals)
Their standards
Are that
man's a
Monkey, using
Euthenics( reviving ****** in their
Man-made
Mural's.
Eat your cereal
Live life as if we have the
B
L
I
N
D
E
R
S
ON-
Though my eye's are
Uncorrupted ( not seeing through misty nighttime glasses)
Breaking to the other
Side
Of the
Fog-
Science correlates with dios
And dios with science-
Yet popular belief
Is a tool
Of diablo's
Machine.
Reaching into the dome
Of the great
City-
Where America
Is astray
With the globe
In the horned one's
Mean's.
Has the man who said
There is no
God
Just walked out into nature-
To see the spectacular
Creation
On a universal
Scale?
Yet their bucket's of
Disbelief have been
Shown beneathe the
Veil
Where the impious
Are stale
And their
aspiration
Is
None!
Apr 25, 2016
Apr 25, 2016 at 3:05 PM UTC
A hidden key
To unlock this soul
A Victorian queen
To confine mine home
An ancient lass
Druid class
Unpolished
Uncorrupted
I seeketh one to give me all
As I her
Two words
(King and queen)
To be the apple of her eye
Bringeth me back to life
Push the red soup back in mine arteries
Light the alpha and omega torch!!!!
Scorched!!!
By ones petting upon mine countenance
A cigarette of Aphroditus
A holy plus and sacred minus
A positive and negative so attractional!!!
Her long darkened locks
To zephyr across mine chiffonier
As she drenches me in cartoon weird
A delighting smear of two bodies in the swelter!!!!!
Unplugged
Raw
Unkiltered
Filthy animals in rawest mold!!!
Antediluvian souls!!!!
Her slaver
Uncustomarily
Her quiver
I tasteth as dairy
Unadulterated by man, plush by god!!!
Yet its a lost chimera
Laughing back at me
There's none that standeth at mine gate
All a whimpering dream
A fantasy of hopeless romantic!!
Why chase the treasure?
I see no chance
Still a dunce
Of high school dance
As I'll sit in the bleachers glancing the crowd!!!!
May 31, 2015
May 31, 2015 at 8:13 AM UTC
She lies
on white sheets against a white wall,
strawberry lips stealing
the minds of all who see her.
That color, delicately smeared across her skin,
brings you back to a moment as a child,
when you first glanced down the rows of red
orbs dangling in sun touched fields of green.
You sat,
eagerly, beneath the arms of an old opalescent,
waiting as the sun stretched higher in the sky.
Others roam around, touching and tasting
as they steal a sample of sweetness,
discarding each after its filled its use,
but not you. You will wait for the one
you want to give in to temptation, and drop
into your unwavering arms.
It falls,
and you watch as your coveted ruby
plummets towards you. All you can do
is think about is how beautiful it looks,
momentarily suspended in the sky, shining
like a lunar eclipse on a cloudless night.
You reach for it, praying you can soften the
bruising blow it would otherwise
receive from the harsh ground.
And you do.
Its skin
smooth to the touch. Its surface, shiny.
With squinting eyes you can see
your own smile in its reflection.
Tongue tingling, mouth watering, you yearn
for a taste. You’ve seen excitement
before, but for some reason, this moment
makes your heart beat faster than the flap
of a hummingbird’s wings. Your lips
meet its skin, slowly, shaking,
nervous of what may come.
You bite.
Firm, yet supple. Sweet nectars drip down
your chin and fall to the ground, showering
the ants below with tiny drops of heaven.
Its core sits uncorrupted, not spoiled or
stained but soft and succulent. You see her
lips, touch them, taste them, and once again
you are a child in an apple field, waiting
for the right one to fall into your arms.
Jun 2, 2012
Jun 2, 2012 at 3:14 AM UTC
In the gallery of a town, art was duly contained
and cared for carefully without contamination.
There was a painting there, painted with oil
paints that rained and formed a picture of a bird
on a canvas of vivid blues, browns, and greens
that fixed eyes on it like webs to hair.
The artist spoke:
“We are all swallows: proud, free, agile.
We are all oceans: formidable, hostile.
We are all stormy weather: thunderous.
We are all columns: supportive, calloused.
Entwined we will walk,
down to and up to the sands,
into elixirs made with salt;
swelling our joyous hands.”
Men, women and children all strolled by,
and let not one of them see the lows and highs
of the artist's soul. A boy stood there with
no-one: his uncorrupted eyes walking up and
down the mined canvas. He felt no sand
under his feet; he felt no wooden skin and
complexion in his hands.
He spoke:
“We are not swallows: ashamed, caged, stiff.
We are not oceans: defenceless, mild.
We are not stormy weather: soundless
We are not columns: defective, defiled.
Like slaves, we sing
on top of the wings
of new-born Spring.
The ground we sowed and toiled,
reaped dangers of fantasy untold.
Soul-reaping bird-singers
singing the siren song to us.
But we must not fuss.
I bleed the colours
of a deadly rose garden.
Red, yellow, blue, green:
colourless eyes remain unseen.”
Apr 24, 2017
Apr 24, 2017 at 4:01 AM UTC
Slow burning and thick is the smoke in my lungs.
A death wish in the end,
a refreshment of poison that enters my bloodstream.
Youth of less than 30, 20, and even 18;
all of us are just searching for happiness and enjoyment in life,
since everything is just so ******
Ignorance is truly bliss.
Yet my generation is acquiring negative knowledge so quickly.
All of us grew up too fast to enjoy our youths in an uncorrupted way.
Our innocence has been robbed by those older than us.
Our happy places aren't the movies, dances, or skate rinks;
they're bottles of liquid poison and capsules full of assorted chemicals which induce false emotions for a few hours.
To be ignorant and clueless is to be truly happy.
May 28, 2014
May 28, 2014 at 2:24 PM UTC
We were legends
Mythic anti-heroes and sunbathing statues
To be handed down through the fervent fires of forever
Untouchable by the languishing winds of time
Smiling at our own mortality with ****** knuckles and shit-eating grins
We were at once privy to all things and blank like hungry canvases, ready to absorb radiant smears.
They often laughed and asked how we made it this far allowing our uncorrupted appetites to persevere.
We winked back as we took another sip and listened to the music they couldn’t hear.
Such beautifully melancholic catharsis.
We openly dined on our borrowed time
We offered back no apology for our burning hearts.
We rode down the bridge on the backs of exploding horses looking to see what was over the next horizon
With inexhaustible decadence and the confidence of lightening we strolled down the sidewalks without avoiding the cracks,
In fact we hoped with thinly veiled secrecy that one would swallow us whole and reveal to us why the clouds are never satisfied enough to stay in one place
We danced our way through the unremarkable
Side-stepping the gasless motors and cynical flowers refusing to grow on the side of the road
With full glasses and brilliant bursts of light that couldn’t be held behind the cage of a bulb, we descended into the careless waves and let them stain our souls like fire onto coals
It was always the beginning of the day.
The night was always young.
Our souls were always wide awake.
The clocks simply couldn’t keep up.
And at the final beginning’s end, we refused to shake hands
Taking whatever breath we had left to fill our lungs with one last smoldering theft
We greeted death as an old friend whose invitation had been lost in the mail
And left this world the same way we came into it; on fire.
On fire.
We were you. We were them. We were all the parts of this adventure that slipped through their hearts.
At least we left them our ashes so they find their own new starts.
Oct 10, 2014
Oct 10, 2014 at 5:22 PM UTC
I just saw a reflection
Of who you could have been
Had you not fallen from glory.
Had you maintained your beauty
Had you maintained your health
Had you remained above the drudgery
I am sorry
For who you have become
Even though I tried my best
To make **** sure I wasn’t responsible
So I bid you well
Whoever you had the potential to become
And should you ever stop your frantic run
Know
I will not be there anymore
I will be in the mirror
With your reflection
Altogether more beautiful
In that uncorrupted bliss
Jun 1, 2012
Jun 1, 2012 at 3:50 AM UTC
stone faced, sand blasted,
cemented
and half-assed,
sleeping soundly
like Pompeii
dreamless,
uninspired,
uncorrupted,
unavailable for comment.
You see, there are bones
inside of me.
Bones embracing each other,
in tired poses
laying in the dirt,
uncovered by the studious,
curious,
fastidious, and
woefully unlucky.
Good luck cataloging your finds.
I wouldn't buy it.
meanwhile,
i am petrified
in perfect fashion
filling my space
filing my cells
and ever. so. damn. slowly.
i am whole again,
rock hard abs
and chiseled jaw
Adonis
in slate stone
with chipping lungs
stand **** for the world
in demonstration of man
"This is what I was,"
i will say,
"Proud never to change."
pigeon **** on my shoulder
and no one knows what color my eyes were
Oct 3, 2013
Oct 3, 2013 at 2:49 AM UTC
Hear the children’s laughter,
it is all the same.
High pitched and infectious,
a dear for the ears.
Black, white, brown or yellow,
they have the same smile.
Well nourished or starving,
they have one desire.
Some good fortune for kids,
having a true home,
with someone to hold them.
Someone to kiss them.
But an ill fate for those,
having such a house,
and not a home to go.
No one to embrace.
Yet… still blessed beings,
seeing no evil,
hearing only good things.
Uncorrupted minds.
Let children, be children.
Make them see beauty.
Show them the precise way,
let love be their light!
Aug 20, 2011
Aug 20, 2011 at 1:58 AM UTC
#D Vanlandingham
*Boundless..
In its ability to extend beyond all forms of containment;
the big circle contains within it, the little one
And if it is true relationship through genuine volition of the beloved
that is to be desired most of all,
then spirit, wrapped in flesh is the autonomy most needed
in order for the dream to become true.
Spirit is being.
Spirit cloaked in flesh is being--
feeling its relationship with its own self.
Spirit, mastering its own flesh by reigning in its emotions along
with the synaptic-firing of every one of its nerve endings into full
submission of the spirit's own core nature, is the root-basis of all true volition.
Spirit, in its raw form is perfect-- wholly unable to undergo
corruption, or decay..
but the flesh..
the flesh,
Always needing to substantiate itself through its never-ending layers
of self-promotion apart from the realities of its own spirit's core.
Yet, pure Love--
wholly unable to see itself as that which is to be rejected,
enters in to the very act of the rejection, itself;
..that autonomy may continue to contain
the uncorrupted core--
and the smaller circle becomes established:
smaller.. yes.. but in truth,
its parameters self stretch all the way out
to those of the bigger one
And so, with the necessary advent of autonomy
into the relational equation, comes also
The necessary advent of God's wholly-volitional
self-depletion of God.. entering, in to it all
so that, in time, God(Love) alone might take the full brunt
of rejection's unjust hit--
in its autonomous movement away
from its own incorruptible core..
away, from its own true self.
So, follow the smaller circle, if you will, my beautiful--
either way, you are still following God.*
#
Dec 2, 2020
Dec 2, 2020 at 8:57 PM UTC
*Its not just the absence of war
It is Living, Learning and Changing
Peace
Will be when tanks become homes
And old grenades are cups that are used to sip water
Peace is when shades of green are only worn by nature
It will be when the fences no longer divide us
Its the calmness in one's heart
The brightest blue skies
Accompanied with the softest innocent clouds
Peace is when nature is uncorrupted
And reality is not distorted
Its natural beauty
Not chemical deformity
Nor the extinction of humanity
Peace is hope
Its life
Its love
Its faith
Peace is the content feeling
Of knowing you're safe*
Jan 15, 2014
Jan 15, 2014 at 4:54 PM UTC