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"upheaval" poems
The night sky is so alluring There is a subtle attraction Stars hold our gaze tonight As lovers hearts come closer Fine strings from the moon And the shimmering veil Decorate the landscape Waves of silver light Resonates with hearts upheaval Night’s bring out the beauty With closed eyes, we see the universe Love stops at this confluence Hearts slowly drowning in love
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Jul 17, 2015
Jul 17, 2015 at 1:37 PM UTC
The Night Sky
you see i had always felt that in a dream i was the absence of the dream and then it dawned on me that i was in a time piece trapped during forgotten hours where everything is alien but vaguely familiar the beach beneath me wandering off to anywhere but here and i straddle the shoreline palming stray shards of sea glass always the color of her eyes and i am abruptly upside down an upheaval, a maw where i thought it as a nightly revenge for skipping stones and again i am upended & back on the beach born of broken hourglasses and it makes me think that god likes to watch things leave me
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Feb 15, 2014
Feb 15, 2014 at 11:35 AM UTC
again
Ongoing failures of the Church to act, will guarantee the sure success of evil; for faith without works is… still dead and visible today is spiritual upheaval. The internal chasm between the members of both sides -the presbytery and laity- must be bridged with faithful cooperation, girded with policies that last permanently. Even today, God is quietly waiting on the Body, while the unsaved are queued up for Hell. Individual Faith is a person’s responsibility, but the Great Commission impels us to tell… others about God, His Love and Christ’s Salvation. After 2000+ years, The World has not misunderstood. A final solution is required and not yet in place- each of us must desire to… overcome Evil with good! . . . Author Notes: Loosely based on: James 2:14-26; Obad 1:11-15; Gal 6:7-9; Matt 5:45, 28:16-20 All that is necessary for the triumph of evil is that good men continue to do nothing -Edmund Burke Learn more about me and my poetry at: http://amzn.to/1ffo9YZ By Joseph J. Breunig 3rd, © 2014, All rights reserved.
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Jul 4, 2014
Jul 4, 2014 at 4:07 AM UTC
Poem: Overcoming Evil with Good (Spiritual Secret)
I stand alone, the ghosts of my parents lingering in my heart Remembering the death the change the upheaval of life how it was The remains of my soul splinter and crack As I remember the terrible deeds that a desperate girl committed. ~ I, that girl, remember humanity as it was; whole untainted pure But the fear and pain overcome and all reason leaves Forged into iron and steel that bleeds tears ~ "It hurts so much," I whispered "I just want to be whole and normal." I'd do anything to fix myself Even if it meant destroying my humanity ~ I found I was afraid to leave this world For in all of its horror and evil Beauty still existed amidst the pain And I wanted to live and laugh and feel I wanted to experience and love and dream But it was all ripped away that fateful night Lost and destroyed, out of sight ~ But then a gentle woman appeared And smiled at me with kind eyes With the touch of a hand I was set free Finally able to just be me I started to cry from the absence of pain And I knew the world for me would change A chance to live a life once more No thought to what came before ~ I was able to touch and dance and fly Dream and sing and touch the sky I'll start again and my story I'll tell And proudly wear the scars I earned well. -Esther L. Krenzin- -Roguesong-
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Jul 19, 2018
Jul 19, 2018 at 9:33 AM UTC
The Broken Warrior
Upheaval of the present Takes you back to nostalgia Fragments of memories Plays in your mind Incoherent thoughts edited A certain place in the past Where a part of you lived No matter how far you have come Nostalgia takes over It’s a romance with the past The vintage film in black n white Now plays, colored with imagination
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Sep 21, 2014
Sep 21, 2014 at 9:59 AM UTC
Nostalgia
I am clueless as to how I have dug a hole in this concrete ground, 60 feet deep. The dust I’ve been choking on does not bother me no more, layers piling upon my lungs like snow upon an exposed carcass. The slightest upheaval of my chest and tingling in my lungs reminds me that I still breathe. I’ve met scaffolds of bones down here. As I stare into their hollow sockets, I could never figure if they were ever esurient for something I held. They taught me how the ocean is never blue but only a de facto reflection of the sky. They said many mistook the sea for the sky, but never once mentioned the salt that contaminated their lungs- the impetus that drove their feet 60 steps into the waves. A reconciliation it must have been. I doubt it made any difference, when their hearts were bleeding out; a pity it doesn’t make it any lighter. Down they sank. I wonder if I mistook these soils for the sky. As I looked up, I realised that the sky only seemed further away. There’s something peculiarly comfortable down here, the little bumps on the walls and contours of the craters looked like jawlines of a new-found friend. The sun is so blindingly high in the sky. I preferred how sometimes I could see the man in the moon- shadows cast by imperfections on the moon’s surface. In the vague moonlight and scrawny silhouettes, the fact that the moon always has a dark side makes it tangible a thousand miles away. Sometimes, I lay on this wooden receptacle discovered upon excavation and gaze at the empty skies with my friend as he tells me what lies outside this trough. Happiness is a pack of hungry wolves and when they are done, you are left with only your marrows. I see things clearer down here, than above where they are smothered by smoke from the trees they burned to the ground. Sometimes the skies are dark with no hint of dusk, sometimes the sky is filled with white nebula; but most of the times, the days are shorter than the nights. But it never gets any darker down here. I figured I could never mistake this hole for the sky. I was just chasing these broken pieces like I used to chase happiness. I have no idea how I’ve gotten this deep while trying to pick up these pieces that I don’t recognise. But the struggle tells me it’s real, and the pain keeps me awake. They say if you spend enough time with someone, you will fall in love. I guess that’s what happened between sadness and me. I’m staying here.
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Jan 11, 2014
Jan 11, 2014 at 4:09 PM UTC
I'm sorry for romanticizing sadness.
I am clueless as to how I have dug a hole in this concrete ground, 60 feet deep. The dust I’ve been choking on does not bother me no more, layers piling upon my lungs like snow upon an exposed carcass. The slightest upheaval of my chest and tingling in my lungs reminds me that I still breathe. I’ve met scaffolds of bones down here. As I stare into their hollow sockets, I could never figure if they were ever esurient for something I held. They taught me how the ocean is never blue but only a de facto reflection of the sky. They said many mistook the sea for the sky, but never once mentioned the salt that contaminated their lungs- the impetus that drove their feet 60 steps into the waves. A reconciliation it must have been. I doubt it made any difference, when their hearts were bleeding out; a pity it doesn’t make it any lighter. Down they sank. I wonder if I mistook these soils for the sky. As I looked up, I realised that the sky only seemed further away. There’s something peculiarly comfortable down here, the little bumps on the walls and contours of the craters looked like jawlines of a new-found friend. The sun is so blindingly high in the sky. I preferred how sometimes I could see the man in the moon- shadows cast by imperfections on the moon’s surface. In the vague moonlight and scrawny silhouettes, the fact that the moon always has a dark side makes it tangible a thousand miles away. Sometimes, I lay on this wooden receptacle discovered upon excavation and gaze at the empty skies with my friend as he tells me what lies outside this trough. Happiness is a pack of hungry wolves and when they are done, you are left with only your marrows. I see things clearer down here, than above where they are smothered by smoke from the trees they burned to the ground. Sometimes the skies are dark with no hint of dusk, sometimes the sky is filled with white nebula; but most of the times, the days are shorter than the nights. But it never gets any darker down here. I figured I could never mistake this hole for the sky. I was just chasing these broken pieces like I used to chase happiness. I have no idea how I’ve gotten this deep while trying to pick up these pieces that I don’t recognise. But the struggle tells me it’s real, and the pain keeps me awake. They say if you spend enough time with someone, you will fall in love. I guess that’s what happened between sadness and me. I’m staying here.
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***The mountains raise their heads To look up to the sky Looking to kiss the eternity Searching for the soft caress of clouds And soothe the upheaval it went through First drop of rains anoint the rugged surface The sequestered waterfall cascades down And adorns the mountainous terrains Covering it with the soft velvety green Enthusing life into the once lifeless rocks Once among the rubble The mountains have found their place of glory***
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Dec 12, 2014
Dec 12, 2014 at 10:32 AM UTC
The Mountains
O Out of a bed of love When that immortal hospital made one more moove to soothe The curless counted body, And ruin and his causes Over the barbed and shooting sea assumed an army And swept into our wounds and houses, I climb to greet the war in which I have no heart but only That one dark I owe my light, Call for confessor and wiser mirror but there is none To glow after the god stoning night And I am struck as lonely as a holy marker by the sun. No Praise that the spring time is all Gabriel and radiant shrubbery as the morning grows joyful Out of the woebegone pyre And the multitude's sultry tear turns cool on the weeping wall, My arising prodgidal Sun the father his quiver full of the infants of pure fire, But blessed be hail and upheaval That uncalm still it is sure alone to stand and sing Alone in the husk of man's home And the mother and toppling house of the holy spring, If only for a last time.
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3.7k
Dylan Thomas - Holy Spring
"That quiche was delicious and - Harry Potter!" Oh no, not him again, what a bother. "What time should I pick you up to take you to - Harry Potter!" Seriously? I suppose we'll pretend like he already got her. "Did you finish chemistry and start your - Harry Potter!" Oh, i wish we could just stop talking about that rotter. "Do you mind getting the laundry for - Harry Potter!" Umm, you know the clothes smell, we really otter. This boy is worse than Peter Pan He lives in my house and rides in my van! My girls all adore him and his glasses And the more he talks, the more he attracts the masses. Whoever is this Dumbledore? I really don't want to hear anymore. Snape just looks like he's evil All I know is he's causing upheaval. Ron, that poor redhead And Hermione that bossy big head. Edward somehow got mixed in And i hear he died in the end. But I couldn't care less, please go away! I will get rid of them all one day. I know what must happen when I hear Potter, I must become a pest control plotter!
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Dec 4, 2012
Dec 4, 2012 at 12:39 PM UTC
Harry Potter Obsession
Who is Lucifer? Who is this being we never wish to meet? Some say he was sent down from the heavens, causing mayhem in God's keep. Consuming the soul of evil, he is the creator of monstrosity, upheaval. A living lie or a horrible truth, for me and you will there ever be proof? His existence is unknown, a passenger of evil unlikely to make atone. Is it an angel, an human soul, or an evil creature? For all we know he could be following out procedure.
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Nov 19, 2014
Nov 19, 2014 at 7:11 PM UTC
Lucifer
mass culture     is designed      for       complacency [               ]; the Great Depression of the 30's ended the Roaring 20's; as radio brought WWII & TV Vietnam into homes where easy-chairs & TV dinners reigned in cartoon silence; Bud sneaks off to the garage to smoke bud, when the innocent stoner gets a draft card, turning radical, Bud grows his hair long & giving the middle finger to some, peace sign to others  [decades go by when hideous was fashionable];                  9/11 breaking our post-grunge neo-70's-80's haze [for what, like a week - - -                 then came the hoax of Islamophobia        spreading paranoia & nervousness in case the terrorists missed anyone;                 the 90's were already                 nostalgia by the time of the invasion of Iraq; mass culture is designed for sedentary complacency but when society is in upheaval the media just has to wait until it's all over to start promoting expensive baubles again - - -
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Jul 22, 2018
Jul 22, 2018 at 4:21 PM UTC
profiting from mass cultural hysteria
Let's talk about revenge, with a poem that ignites the fire and then burns an identity. You will find a sleeping monster within you that you have been deliberately ignoring. Let's talk about how an upheaval in the bodies oppressed reality, a war that rages inside our heads. I am a liberation warrior. You are a comrade of struggle. A spirit that is no longer only shown in the metaphor of words or the love of romantic characters in the love life that haunts adolescence a lot. Let's talk about revenge, a fictional monster, and a boy who stands bullied wanting to show his identity in every ******* world order. Losers behold, those who flock! And for he has long been alone, fighting monsters in poisoned brains, and a stomach that is only the main goal of fighting for power, now we are again in vain. Let's talk, really the truth! No love grows other than our love for ourselves. Awaken! Even if neither you are the hero, nor the main character!
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Apr 2, 2022
Apr 2, 2022 at 4:30 PM UTC
Let's talk about revenge!
we live in a place where the streets are consistently renewed with black tar and the people smell as comfortable as they live. there are soft clean-cut beds as well unkept lawns people hardly dare venture into for fear of revelation. an entirely new sense of being and worth can be renewed from a walk between the skyscrapers. life is hardly disrupted unless the upheaval is directed towards a reckless teenager in search of a great thrill.
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Oct 22, 2014
Oct 22, 2014 at 12:09 AM UTC
hometown
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
Walking in the midst of dark shadows, In the silence through the meadows I feel disconnected from reality, Far from the world's true letality I'm somewhere in between worlds, A place without rules or rulers A place without good and evil Without any.... upheaval It is in this place that I can be, Be my true self, my mind set free Thoughts run free, like horses in a meadow In the midst of this dark shadow
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Oct 31, 2015
Oct 31, 2015 at 3:57 AM UTC
The meadows of forbidden thoughts
How much pain Can one heart take Burning battle scars Every time I don't hear your voice I'm lost How could I fall so far Always afraid to kiss you Now there's no you Aimless and alone Hell in my heart, an upheaval Power of my being, without appeal Granting you freedom How could you still steal The whole of me Shadow of me, walking Acknowledging the best of me Stored deep inside of you Everything else is hopeless As no distance or time Has murdered my love for you Veins chocking, turning blue As my heart walks about within you Leaving me here dying, its true Aimless and alone Hell in my heart, an upheaval Power of my being, without appeal
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Jan 22, 2013
Jan 22, 2013 at 5:40 PM UTC
Hell in My Heart (An Upheaval)
Exclusively molded in the divine image   or egos big enough to declare it so A dangerous theory   a disastrous belief system Gardeners of Eden   turned stewards of entropy Superiority conquest of nature   symbiotic balance forsaken    Jealous hoarders of spirituality,   sentience, self-awareness, intelligence The irrational glorification of reason   despite a history of upheaval and war Bullies on the playground of manifest destiny   exploitive excess worshiped as progress Arrogantly intoxicated on the dregs of Pandora's jar   blindly stumbling toward self-destruction  Welcome to the valley of the shadow of death              Environmental Armageddon
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May 23, 2013
May 23, 2013 at 10:00 PM UTC
Species Snobs
Trust in Faith It's raining and the sun has returned home although I am by myself, yet I am not alone mind engages intellect, with time to consider how this heart of mine, has grown so bitter Not long ago, reflections of the past were a delight then in a brief moment, my happiness took flight once having a life with meaning, love and security now with remorse and desire, for a heart with purity Continuing to pursue life normally, while anxieties drown the mind no matter what I might do, any sense of happiness seems confined confused with mixed emotions, and knowing that they are both true yet despite my conflict, still mustering the will to tell her, I love you With each and every passing day, I look forward to behold once again to greet those yesterdays, those yesterdays of old but those yesterdays are buried, the fear of the future takes hold all of what now remains, are those few tomorrows left to unfold Worries must stem from this lack of control, how not to consider thinking of how few years are left to live, could anyone not be bitter the unknown of what the rest of your life will bring, an awesome fear when you advance in years, only then does it become all too clear Times passes, the body ages, memories flounder, and reality sets in maybe tomorrow the mail will arrive, addressed to: The Next of Kin finding yourself in an emotional upheaval, there is but one thing to do forage deep down inside, and uncover your faith, your only rescue Faith will give you the strength, it will guide you to trust in the One above fears of the future and of the unknown, disappear in this world called love experiencing midlife crisis, something you can and will successfully overcome but first never stop searching, trusting in G-d, and to depression never succumb
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Jul 24, 2015
Jul 24, 2015 at 7:38 AM UTC
Faith: The Antidote to Man's Midlife Crisis
Trust in Faith It's raining and the sun has returned home although I am by myself, yet I am not alone mind engages intellect, with time to consider how this heart of mine, has grown so bitter Not long ago, reflections of the past were a delight then in a brief moment, my happiness took flight once having a life with meaning, love and security now with remorse and desire, for a heart with purity Continuing to pursue life normally, while anxieties drown the mind no matter what I might do, any sense of happiness seems confined confused with mixed emotions, and knowing that they are both true yet despite my conflict, still mustering the will to tell her, I love you With each and every passing day, I look forward to behold once again to greet those yesterdays, those yesterdays of old but those yesterdays are buried, the fear of the future takes hold all of what now remains, are those few tomorrows left to unfold Worries must stem from this lack of control, how not to consider thinking of how few years are left to live, could anyone not be bitter the unknown of what the rest of your life will bring, an awesome fear when you advance in years, only then does it become all too clear Times passes, the body ages, memories flounder, and reality sets in maybe tomorrow the mail will arrive, addressed to: The Next of Kin finding yourself in an emotional upheaval, there is but one thing to do forage deep down inside, and uncover your faith, your only rescue Faith will give you the strength, it will guide you to trust in the One above fears of the future and of the unknown, disappear in this world called love experiencing midlife crisis, something you can and will successfully overcome but first never stop searching, trusting in G-d, and to depression never succumb
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The forcible torrents rave on, ceaseless Turmoil spins in a topsy-turvy wave Bodies in shambles, minds twisted, restless Drama and crises, emotions we crave Twerking with the devil, licking the sledge Morison's snake ride to "The (darkest) End" Pushing the limits over the damp edge Following and tweaking the latest trend Emotional upheaval - rebellion Creative juices overflow with paint There is art in every great Hellion But little ink flows from the mighty saint Be content in the rich chaos of youth It's the rains that nurture the seeds of truth
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Dec 31, 2013
Dec 31, 2013 at 12:15 AM UTC
Sonnet 2: Chaos
Please, can an angel save an angel, The phoenix in your heart to roar, cry and counsel to counsel, bold eagle angle, No! “Just survive **** state” should be shunned. Splash cash to prevent invaders but evil invaded your uncle’s, boyfriend’s, son’s heart. Loved men stuck in **** state’s upheaval, Men and women don’t recognise the Sun. “Just survive **** state” is **** tolerance, We march ‘cause we have **** intolerance!
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Aug 18, 2021
Aug 18, 2021 at 5:34 PM UTC
Sonnet 06.21: “Just survive **** state”
Your world is dark and your path is rocky No radiant sun to light your way So you stand perfectly still until you can see Everything, impeccably displayed White lightening flashes across stormy skies Lighting up all your shadows Convincing you, he is the sun with lies Quickly leaves you winging solo Your eyes then open wide with knowing Those flashes are not your sun Merely beautiful fire streaking and flowing Upheaval having some fun You begin capturing each flash in your memory Storing them one by one Creating a beautiful array of lighted artillery You will  turn into your sun Still, your world was dark and your path was rocky Those flashing memories faded fast You could never store enough of them to see Or light up your worldly path Now off in the distance so far away you see A tiny beam glowing bright Will you stand here still collecting memories Or go in search of your sunlight?
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Sep 28, 2010
Sep 28, 2010 at 9:57 AM UTC
Stir and Seek
This isn’t a case Of writers block Tides have turned The winds have stopped Unread poems Sacks stuck at home Unposted unknown Dear Eliot Where did you go? All my thoughts Demand to rhyme Contemplating Line after line Dear Eliot What is this evil Who downloaded This poetic upheaval Within your cyber grip You control the trending list Where approval declines We are poetically confined Dear Eliot Have you lost your mind?
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Oct 18, 2019
Oct 18, 2019 at 12:23 AM UTC
DEAR ELIOT
Complex as the universe this universal ache My thoughts, my life does it overtake. How deep the pain caused in troubled outside mind How lost… the love I cannot find. What longing and desire I have for love Yet anger - hatred like a falling dove Passion for both good and evil Does no good, sees no evil. The sun does rise therefore light can flee From its dark captivity that repeatedly traps me In this heavy heart that tortures my soul And never is content, never full. Why must I feel empty when I understand The trap of the heart hiding beneath the sand, The sand of lies, the sand of promises, The sand of betrayal through wrenching kisses… I walk alone… No one lover can ever comprehend The love I found, lost, and could not defend. I drown off the shore of the gleaming sand Catching glimpses… but not feeling the warmth in my hand. Does no good, sees no evil. - Love - a complete upheaval I walk alone, by choice, my own Love is a tapestry; sewn, torn, sewn… I walk alone… Sewn, torn, sewn...
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Dec 9, 2013
Dec 9, 2013 at 10:29 PM UTC
Tapestry
Historical-ly, Black Colleges Have been chronically underfunded, unacknowledged, Hell - Unappreciated. Black culture curates Common culture. Black coins buy Booming business - Black universities Breed Brilliance, Undeniably. Understand Black children Contain unrelenting Capacity, Cause upheaval - Controlled, creative Chaos; Coerce Change. History Continues. Heads held high - Commemorating heroes. Celebrating Hope- Bravery- Coexistence- Unity- Hope- Bravery-   Coexistence-   Unity-     Healing-Balanced-Charismatic-Unequivocal-ly Colorful Blackness.
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Dec 23, 2022
Dec 23, 2022 at 9:01 AM UTC
HBCU