"vexations" poems
Go placidly amid the noise and haste,
and remember what peace there may be in silence.
As far as possible without surrender
be on good terms with all persons.
Speak your truth quietly and clearly;
and listen to others,
even the dull and the ignorant;
they too have their story.
Avoid loud and aggressive persons,
they are vexations to the spirit.
If you compare yourself with others,
you may become vain and bitter;
for always there will be greater and lesser persons than yourself.
Enjoy your achievements as well as your plans.
Keep interested in your own career, however humble;
it is a real possession in the changing fortunes of time.
Exercise caution in your business affairs;
for the world is full of trickery.
But let this not blind you to what virtue there is;
many persons strive for high ideals;
and everywhere life is full of heroism.
Be yourself.
Especially, do not feign affection.
Neither be cynical about love;
for in the face of all aridity and disenchantment
it is as perennial as the grass.
Take kindly the counsel of the years,
gracefully surrendering the things of youth.
Nurture strength of spirit to shield you in sudden misfortune.
But do not distress yourself with dark imaginings.
Many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness.
Beyond a wholesome discipline,
be gentle with yourself.
You are a child of the universe,
no less than the trees and the stars;
you have a right to be here.
And whether or not it is clear to you,
no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should.
Therefore be at peace with God,
whatever you conceive Him to be,
and whatever your labors and aspirations,
in the noisy confusion of life keep peace with your soul.
With all its sham, drudgery, and broken dreams,
it is still a beautiful world.
Be cheerful.
Strive to be happy.
May 14, 2017
May 14, 2017 at 8:30 AM UTC
My manner of thinking, so you say, cannot be approved.
Do you suppose I care? A poor fool indeed is he who adopts a manner of thinking for others! My manner of thinking stems straight from my considered reflections: it holds with my existence, with the way I am made. It is not in my power to alter it; and were it, I’d not do so. These manners of thinking you find fault with is my sole consolation in life; it alleviates all my sufferings in prison, it composes all my pleasures in the world outside; it is dearer to me than life itself. Not my manner of thinking but the manner of thinking of others has been the source of my unhappiness. The reasoning man who scorns the prejudices of simpletons necessarily becomes the enemy of simpletons; he must expect as much, and laugh at the inevitable. A traveler journeys along a fine road. It has been strewn with traps. He falls into one. Do you say it is the traveler's fault, or that of the scoundrel who lays the trap? If then, as you tell me are willing to restore my liberty if I am willing to pay for it by the sacrifice of my principles or my tastes, we may bid one another an eternal adieu, for rather than part with those, I would sacrifice a thousand lives and a thousand liberties, if I had them. These principals and these tastes, I am their fanatic adherent; and fanaticism in me is the product of persecutions I have endured from my tyrants. The longer they continue their vexations, the deeper they root my principles in my heart, and I openly declare that no one need talk to me of liberty if it is offered to me only in return for their destruction.
Sep 9, 2014
Sep 9, 2014 at 5:04 AM UTC
*Reading poems today on Hello Poetry
This is what came to me as the Love
Mete with so much needs of ALL!!!*
Desiderata
***Go placidly amid the noise and haste,
and remember what peace there may be in silence.
As far as possible without surrender
be on good terms with all persons.
Speak your truth quietly and clearly;
and listen to others,
even the dull and the ignorant;
they too have their story.
Avoid loud and aggressive persons,
they are vexations to the spirit.
If you compare yourself with others,
you may become vain and bitter;
for always there will be greater and lesser persons than yourself.
Enjoy your achievements as well as your plans.
Keep interested in your own career, however humble;
it is a real possession in the changing fortunes of time.
Exercise caution in your business affairs;
for the world is full of trickery.
But let this not blind you to what virtue there is;
many persons strive for high ideals;
and everywhere life is full of heroism.
Be yourself.
Especially, do not feign affection.
Neither be cynical about love;
for in the face of all aridity and disenchantment
it is as perennial as the grass.
Take kindly the counsel of the years,
gracefully surrendering the things of youth.
Nurture strength of spirit to shield you in sudden misfortune.
But do not distress yourself with dark imaginings.
Many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness.
Beyond a wholesome discipline,
be gentle with yourself.
You are a child of the universe,
no less than the trees and the stars;
you have a right to be here.
And whether or not it is clear to you,
no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should.
Therefore be at peace with God,
whatever you conceive Him to be,
and whatever your labors and aspirations,
in the noisy confusion of life keep peace with your soul.
With all its sham, drudgery, and broken dreams,
it is still a beautiful world.
Be cheerful.
Strive to be happy.***
Dec 15, 2012
Dec 15, 2012 at 10:04 PM UTC
Les ondes de la mer me caressent doucement.
Je me sens si heureux chaque seconde de mon être
Et j’oublie mes chagrins si divers légèrement.
Tout ce qu’on veut maintenant est s’unir aux belles-lettres
En quoi notre destin fut écrit autrefois,
Où les chemins de la vie sont toujours dégagés
Et nous sommes libérés des regrets, des outrages
Qui empêchent notre envie de partout voyager.
Nous manquons seulement de courage de fuir -
De nos craintes, vexations, amertumes et avis...
En étant caressés par les ondes de la mer
Commençons de nouveau: nouveau seuil de la vie.
Feb 6, 2017
Feb 6, 2017 at 2:34 PM UTC
I was once called
A communist, a fascist and an anarchist
All in one sentence
Which I thought was quite impressive
And this was because I was a union man
My fellow workers elected me to represent them
In our dealings with management
I was involved in negotiations
About the application of regulations
And other tedious vexations
And on rare occasions
I led disputes and even strikes
And, over the years
I helped to save many jobs
Not numbers
But peoples' livelihoods
Some will say I was a rabble-rouser
An agitator
Some can say as they like
All I ever did
Was stand up for the underdog
And I hope I always will
By Phil Roberts
Oct 15, 2016
Oct 15, 2016 at 5:22 AM UTC
A LAND OF HONEYED-PRAISES,
FULL OF ARROGANT AND PRIDE,
MALIGNANT ONE's,
WITH AN UNCURED~ CANCERS.
A WORDS AND PHRASES
FOR THOSE WHO LOST IT'S SENSE
IN PUBLIC ~SERVICE.
IT'S NOT YOU?
REALLY?
HA!
PHILOSOPHY DOCTOR?
MASTER OF EDUCATION?
MASTER OF PUBLIC SERVICE?
YOUR PORTRAIT HANG ON THE WALLS!
NOT ONE!
NOT TWO!
NOT THREE!
REALLY?
BUT HOW MANY ARE YOU?
MORE PEOPLE, YOUR CONSTITUENT
HAD ALL A DECADES OF
BROKEN~ DREAMS,
THAT SHATTERED INTO PIECES
THEIRS TEARS? IS NOT ENOUGH ...
TO FILL UP YOUR CUPS,
AND EVEN CAN'T ADD UP
YOUR HUNGRY PORSCHE WALLET!
EDUCATIONS MAKES SENSE
RIGHT! CAN'T ARGUE WITH YOU THEN...,
BUT IT ALSO MAKES YOUR FACE~CENTS.
A NECKLACE OF YOU PRIDE,
MY DEAR, DEPED
DAVAO DE ORO EDUCATORS. (Division Office)
OH~SILENT AND ARROGANT
WHY? YOU PERMIT THE BROKEN~CULTURES
EVEN THE TOXIC, GO FAR BEYOND MY LINES.
SORRY, I FORGOT AM NOT A LICENCE, POET.
DID I NEED TO GET ONE?
OR TO PAY YOUR HUNGRY PORSCHE WALLET!
O' COMO'N
SORRY DEAR MAAM, AND SIR's
I LOST MY APPETITE FOR GRAMMARS,
SA , BISYA PA "TULA NI OR DELI"
TO, MY DEAR READER
"NATIVE LANGUAGE"
DEPED~DAVAO DE ORO (Division Office)
O~ DEAR INSTITUTION
THANKS FOR EDUCATING US
FOR ME TO LEARNED
ENGLISH FOR A WHILE
AH, NOW YOU AWAKEN ME,
OH, MY SENSE OF CAPTIVITY.
THIS, UNJUST INSTITUTIONS
CAUSED VEXATIONS
TO YOUR DEAR GRADUATES,
AND THOSE SPIRITED~ONES.
DEPED ~ DAVAO DE ORO (Division Office)
ARE YOU AN INSTITUTION OF
UNJUST & UNWISE
GIVING BREED OF CENTS~EDUCATORS?
AH, SORRY, IT HARD TO GIVE THE WORDS
SENSE, OF YOUR INSTITUTION.
DEPED~ DAVAO DE ORO
YOU LOST YOUR WAYS
YOUR MASTER DEGREE's & PHD's
EVEN BLOWN ~UP WIDE.
SIDE -BY-SIDE!
OH~STUPID THINGS
AND THE ARROGANT's
WRITTEN IN THE HISTORY!
YOU CAN FIND THEIR NAME's
IN THE HALLWAY OF GALLERY
AH, COMO'N
THIS IS NOT A POET
OR A SONG EITHER.
WHAT's, IS THIS?!
SORRY, MATE....
THIS IS PART OF ME,
WHO HAVE LOST AND WANDERED.
REALLY?
ABOUT WHAT?
FOR THE DEPED~ DAVAO DE ORO (Division Office)
WHERE? & WHAT COUNTRY MATE?
IN THE PHILIPPINES, MATE.
WHAT NOW, MATE?
JUST NOTHING.
JUST, A HELL OF ONE PROVINCE MATE.
GOOD TO KNOWS,
FOR THEIR ******* MATE.
YOU KNOW, MATE?
WHAT?
SEC. LEONOR BRIONES
IS ONE OF OUR COUNTRY BEST EDUCATOR.
THE WISE~LADY MATE?
YOU RIGHT, MATE!
HOPE, SHE VETTED.
Sep 25, 2021
Sep 25, 2021 at 9:05 AM UTC
snuffed out
the TV
blare
flung
away the
cell phone
cast aside
delusions,
vexations,
switched
off the
lights
stood in
the dark
then
ear to
its heart,
rain...
Aug 18, 2016
Aug 18, 2016 at 9:19 AM UTC
As long...
as the rainbows reach
the wayward’s hand
As long...
as the dawning light
touches the griefs of men
The burst of hope that trails along
the shame suffering road
Forgiving the vexations, I sowed
setting it free and far I go
As long...
as the page is turning
my stories tell to this day
As long...
as the company of love
can find the heart its way
Above the heavens, below the bend
hope places to commend
Bringing back the joy to my soul
together thee as long till the end
Mar 9, 2018
Mar 9, 2018 at 11:27 PM UTC
deeply swaddled
in troubled sleep
covered in
blankets
soaked
with woe
vast crushing stones
of daytime vexations
wring out
the very last
drops of aching
night sweats
a constricting
conscience
strangles
the possibility
of rest
eruptive
violent
struggles
subverts
a desperate
restoration
this damnable
listless sleep
yet in the
nadir of torment
as another
bleak daybreak
creeps closer
a fluttering
voice
hovers
to whisper
courageous
dreamscapes
into my
drowsy ear
"don't be afraid,
I am with you
commanding
the help of
an army
of angels
10,000
strong!"
these are
the days
of miracles
and wonder
don't cry
no more
Paul Simon:
Boy in the Bubble
Happy Birthday
Paul Simon
Jacobs Dream
Marc Chagall
jbm
Oakland
10/13/11
Oct 8, 2013
Oct 8, 2013 at 6:13 PM UTC
****** *******
Verily, thou art.
If thine own charms woulds't not deliquesce my pow'rs,
mayhaps my quill
woulds't obey my
commands...
Yet ~ evermore ~ am I slave
to thy smirks
and provocations
...both vexations to me.
I turn 'round,
but come back
time again.
(Provoking my ire.)
Thou
knave.
Rogue.
****** *******
Thou've been a naughty swain.
Get thee to my rooms.
Feb 4, 2014
Feb 4, 2014 at 7:36 PM UTC
Go placidly amid the noise and haste,
and remember what peace there may be in silence.
As far as possible without surrender
be on good terms with all persons.
Speak your truth quietly and clearly;
and listen to others,
even the dull and the ignorant;
they too have their story.
Avoid loud and aggressive persons,
they are vexations to the spirit.
If you compare yourself with others,
you may become vain and bitter;
for always there will be greater and lesser persons than yourself.
Enjoy your achievements as well as your plans.
Keep interested in your own career, however humble;
it is a real possession in the changing fortunes of time.
Exercise caution in your business affairs;
for the world is full of trickery.
But let this not blind you to what virtue there is;
many persons strive for high ideals;
and everywhere life is full of heroism.
Be yourself.
Especially, do not feign affection.
Neither be cynical about love;
for in the face of all aridity and disenchantment
it is as perennial as the grass.
Take kindly the counsel of the years,
gracefully surrendering the things of youth.
Nurture strength of spirit to shield you in sudden misfortune.
But do not distress yourself with dark imaginings.
Many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness.
Beyond a wholesome discipline,
be gentle with yourself.
You are a child of the universe,
no less than the trees and the stars;
you have a right to be here.
And whether or not it is clear to you,
no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should.
Therefore be at peace with God,
whatever you conceive Him to be,
and whatever your labors and aspirations,
in the noisy confusion of life keep peace with your soul.
With all its sham, drudgery, and broken dreams,
it is still a beautiful world.
Be cheerful.
Strive to be happy.
Mar 29, 2016
Mar 29, 2016 at 12:11 AM UTC
The Melody within
No longer reverberates
That beauteous love song
O, that Bountiful Ballad but
My heart sings a brand new paean:
One of creation,
Of Wisdom,
Of freedom,
Of might,
Of consecration.
Yes, sometimes solitude
Heightens our spiritual senses,
Reawakens our provident defences;
O, denudes our vexations.
Know the Sacral Light
Absolving every deathly pang
Is found
By Dovening Divine Aether,
And summoning the Silver Wings
Of the Holy Dove.
Movement is neither peripheral
Nor internal;
Pain is neither deserved
Nor natural;
All things
Are just as they appear
To be
An evident demonstration
Of a
Higher fidelity.
Matter reverberates upon the
Molecular level;
We are, more
Than flesh, bone, and marrow;
We are,
Life, Love, and Liberty;
We are, a
Breathing Song
That exhales edification, inspiration,
Contemplations, and excogitations.
(Se' lah)
Apr 9, 2021
Apr 9, 2021 at 6:52 PM UTC
Go placidly amid the noise and haste,
and remember what peace there may be in silence.
As far as possible without surrender
be on good terms with all persons.
Speak your truth quietly and clearly;
and listen to others,
even the dull and the ignorant;
they too have their story.
Avoid loud and aggressive persons,
they are vexations to the spirit.
If you compare yourself with others,
you may become vain and bitter;
for always there will be greater and lesser persons than yourself.
Enjoy your achievements as well as your plans.
Keep interested in your own career, however humble
it is a real possession in the changing fortunes of time.
Exercise caution in your business affairs;
for the world is full of trickery.
But let this not blind you to what virtue there is;
many persons strive for high ideals;
and everywhere life is full of heroism.
Be yourself.
Especially, do not feign affection.
Neither be cynical about love;
for in the face of all aridity and disenchantment
it is as perennial as the grass.
Take kindly the counsel of the years,
gracefully surrendering the things of youth.
Nurture strength of spirit to shield you in sudden misfortune.
But do not distress yourself with dark imaginings.
Many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness.
Beyond a wholesome discipline,
be gentle with yourself.
You are a child of the universe,
no less than the trees and the stars;
you have a right to be here.
And whether or not it is clear to you,
no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should.
Therefore be at peace with God,
whatever you conceive Him to be,
and whatever your labors and aspirations,
in the noisy confusion of life keep peace with your soul.
With all its sham, drudgery, and broken dreams,
it is still a beautiful world.
Be cheerful.
Strive to be happy.
- Max Ehrmann
Nov 24, 2018
Nov 24, 2018 at 8:56 PM UTC
I was once called
A communist, a fascist and an anarchist
All in one sentence
Which I thought was quite impressive
And this was because I was a union man
My fellow workers elected me to represent them
In our dealings with management
I was involved in negotiations
About the application of regulations
And other tedious vexations
And on rare occasions
I led disputes and even strikes
And, over the years
I helped to save many jobs
Not numbers
But peoples' livelihoods
Some will say I was a rabble-rouser
An agitator
Some can say as they like
All I ever did
Was stand up for the underdog
And I hope I always will
By Phil Roberts
Feb 8, 2016
Feb 8, 2016 at 9:36 AM UTC
The pools of eyes; like tears of a sea,
the virtue of dreams. Morals in the
pursuit of laurels.
Even with the strength of Hercules,
still weakened as only being human; in part.
In solitude of dark thought—a deathless
night, looms like a menace of juvenile desire.
Lust and confusion, a drudgery of chasing eyes.
Such a defiance of love: Clinginess of flesh wanting
flesh—vexations of our once selves.
_We've all been young._
Nurture maturity, to teach those behind early,
for their grapes to be full in seasonal vines.
Teach 'em as due course,
as 'verly so, you've once been taught.
As a given,
an open hand of the gift of handing
down wisdom.
Jul 19, 2022
Jul 19, 2022 at 3:04 PM UTC
Every time I hear you utter
Snort an exasperation
I notice my flinch
Tension
An arising desire
Fix, solve
Help it go
Somewhere
Outside of you or me
Thoughts roam
Across my forehead
What if
There is another way
Accepting vexations
Chagrin does not stay
When I see that part of you
Dec 9, 2023
Dec 9, 2023 at 6:37 PM UTC
There’s something just so odd about
always balancing on the fence over God
whatever that is
one morning you’re eating your breakfast next to him
and when your coffee gets cold, you go to refresh it
returning to an empty chair in the kitchen
despite checking the closet and under the bed
driveway empty, he disappears without a trace.
I shrug and I go back to my monotonous day
it never made a difference to me in the first place
smashing my moral compass into the bowl
and stepping on the eggshells
there’s something just so strange about
always being so apathetic about the afterlife
one day I’m staring at my own creation in the face
the next I’m jotting down my signature on a check to the nearest
*** store, florescent green lights against the pavement
*********** and live chat rooms
and I wonder if something is watching me
peering constantly over my shoulder
nodding his head in disappointment as I crumple up the receipt
stepping out my burning cigarette **** on the concrete
flickering parking lot lights
Angels spreading their wings
Angels spreading their legs
there’s something just so dreadful
this self-indulgent craving to feel loved by something
twiddling your thumbs at the dentist’s office
the clawing from inside your skull
daydreaming the stains on the carpet into animals like clouds
smile and nod to the receptionist
listlessly discussing the weather
slitting the throat of each arising thought
every last insatiable woe, your vexations left behind
a shell of emotions asphyxiated and blue
bleeding out on the waiting room floor
achieving peace means to destroy what kills you
Isn’t that how He always did it?
there’s something just so pathetic
seeking to blame a deity for being this way
i did not forge my own existence,
but I place the pieces of myself back together every night
that was never anyone’s responsibility but my own
the ego’s entitlement to believing an omnipotent being
owes me some sort of answer
selfish enough to just not want to face that bitter lonesomeness
the emptiness, the void, oblivion
being too much of a ******* coward to face it all alone
greedy little ape, just hungry for any answers
I just want my hand to be held
i’m so terrified to be human
but aren’t we all
Nov 19, 2015
Nov 19, 2015 at 7:47 PM UTC
Many a time I catch myself
Being vexed by someone
Who gets under my skin
I can't let it go unnoticed
Brushing it under the carpet
Has never been my style
I think of how I might
Get rid of that feeling
Without having to bruise
After years of experimenting
I have come to realize
That it is coming from within me
As I have had some unresolved issue
That needed to be looked at
In objective contemplation
When I or someone close to me
Have done the same to others
I moved on without correcting
As age progresses, I wish
I would come out clean
From all that I have passed
Having asked pardon
Or having prayed for one
Who was irksome without knowing
This awareness puts me at ease
With new experiences,
As each a tool for a better conscience-
I could just pray for that someone
When s/he too doesn't know
What s/he is doing
Or even when known
Didn't know how to correct
My fruitful moments are spent thus
In praying for friends and foes alike
As the friend of today could have been
A foe in the past
And the foe in the present
Could very well be
A friend in the future
Regardless of the friend/foe
Dynamic, I would beseech
As it puts my mind at ease
With all that IS, making me wonder,
Have I moved on to becoming
Wiser through my vexations?
Jan 8, 2016
Jan 8, 2016 at 2:17 PM UTC
To Poems Lost,
To you who sat on paper drenched
behind the shower curtain,
for I could not get the shampoo
and the soap out fast enough--
dry towels lingering in their mocking silence.
To Poems Lost,
To you who sat unbuckled
in the passenger seat
with the window rolled down,
your flowery head
sticking out catching the cool breeze
in the evening sky,
I, suddenly aware of dangers imminent,
reached with one hand to
hastily buckle you in
and alas--
I lunged,
hoping to pin you
to the upholstery;
you leaned farther and farther
out the window, 'til the current
grasped you by the throat
and ****** you into the night air--
away into oblivion.
I cursed and moan'd,
jabbing and grasping hopelessly at the space
that once entertained your angelic presence.
To Poems Lost,
Peeking slowly into my consciousness
mistaken for silly dreams,
I awoke in bed--dripping a cold sweat,
breathing heavily.
I laughed abruptly, lightly,
trusting my mind to remember your fleeting ghosts,
moments of serendipitous ecstasy,
a mild epiphany;
so I dared myself not to reach for my pencil
sitting eagerly atop my bedside dresser,
where the concerned blank page pleaded
with my muddied conscience.
Tired eyes had just as soon closed shut,
and I awaited you as my bedfellow yet again
to wake me up timely in dawn's breach of night.
And alas--
I woke up,
finding the covers next to me ruffled,
but the body that had authored such vexations
appearing to have slipped into the void.
Had you followed my childhood fears under the bed?
Did you fall with a thud to the stifling carpet,
where protruding claws raked you into the hungry abyss?
I squelch'd the urge to hang my head over the bedside and seek you.
In light's breach of slumber,
before the lids of my eyes peel'd back,
did you leap out into the Lovely
to be whisked away into the brisk morning air?
Either way, you are gone,
so I curse and moan,
clutching the lonely bed-sheets
that once wrapt your transient spirit.
I still wait, eagerly,
for your return,
my lovelies.
Feb 1, 2016
Feb 1, 2016 at 2:38 PM UTC
For an attractive man, he can drowned his sorrows in frivolous interactions and ****** encounters with women of little depth.
For a rich man, he can dispel his vexations with opulence and the ego fiscal stability brings
For the genius? Without either of the other two gifts, he is left to eek out his days in abhorrence. Alone, carrying the excess of his own mind.
If only there was a way to monetize IQ points....
There is, just not literally.
Apr 16, 2015
Apr 16, 2015 at 9:43 AM UTC
Love can bring you pleasure
Love can bring you pain
A delicate balance of loss and gain
It can lift you up
It can knock you down
Make you feel so smart
Let you know you're a clown
*Love, the sweet vexations of love
Love, the revelations of love*
I thought he really loved me
I thought I was his world
Turns out I was just another girl
One of many
He had strung out on his line
Boys don't cha know
That was a kick in my behind
*Love, the desecration of love
Love, the revelations of love*
Just another girl
What a slap in my face
I'm on a mission now to erase
Every single trace
Of that man
Would you like to help me
Formulate a plan
*Love, oh the frustrations of love
Love, oh the complications of love
Love, the revelations of love*
Jan 30, 2013
Jan 30, 2013 at 10:52 AM UTC
Go placidly amid the noise and haste, and remember what peace there may be in silence.
As far as possible, without surrender, be on good terms with all persons.
Speak your truth quietly and clearly; and listen to others,
even to the dull and ignorant; they too have their story.
Avoid loud and aggressive persons, they are vexations to the spirit.
If you compare yourself with others, you may become vain and bitter,
for always there will be greater and lesser persons than yourself.
Enjoy your achievements as well as your plans.
Keep interested in your own career, however humble;
it is a real possession in the changing fortunes of time.
Exercise caution in your business affairs, for the world is full of trickery.
But let this not blind you to what virtue there is;
many persons strive for high ideals,
and everywhere life is full of heroism.
Be yourself. Especially do not feign affection. Neither be cynical about love;
for in the face of all aridity and disenchantment it is as perennial as the grass.
Take kindly the counsel of the years, gracefully surrendering the things of youth.
Nurture strength of spirit to shield you in sudden misfortune.
But do not distress yourself with dark imaginings.
Many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness.
Beyond a wholesome discipline, be gentle with yourself.
You are a child of the universe no less than the trees and the stars;
you have a right to be here. And whether or not it is clear to you,
no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should.
Therefore be at peace with God, whatever you conceive Him to be.
And whatever your labors and aspirations, in the noisy confusion of life,
keep peace with your soul. With all its sham, drudgery and broken dreams,
it is still a beautiful world. Be cheerful. Strive to be happy.
Max Ehrmann
Feb 3, 2016
Feb 3, 2016 at 9:28 AM UTC
I find the world the most beautiful when it rains
And I do not mean light summer drizzles with soft cotton clouds
I mean earth destroying claps of thunder
I find the world the most beautiful when it pours
When the sky is ballpoint pen navy and the clouds onx stones
The worlds utterly breathtaking when the cosmos seem to rumble and tremor
The world is so gorgeous when the wind whips across skin like barbed wire tearing across the surface
I am not a religious person but the closest I’ve come to believing in god is standing in the middle of his storm
Palms turned to the sky drowning in his salvation singing praises of hallelujah
Hallelujah thank you lord
The closets I’ve come to feeling religion is seeing the tempest being realesed like a holy beast for the swell of rain is not gods tears
It’s gods anguish
Sputtering out in the form of bone splintering white-hot static
Angels have often been portrayed as soft wispy creatures
But they are really the children of typhoons
Weeping their fat chilling tears into the soil
For they are crying for our sins The haunting call of ***** music ripping through their vocal chords raining onto the pavement
These rain drop bullets are not signs of gods sadness
They are signs of gods wrath
Tearing up the earth like a war zone
Punishing us for our misdeeds
In these times god is reducing us back to the simple creatures that we are
Because not even humans can control his vexations
We in these moments are brought back down to our knees in prayer
Our petty ‘Forgive me father”s slipping down our tongue like water droplets
Pleading begging screaming out over the crackles of lighting
Screaming out over gods wrath
But by God this sight of destruction is nothing but beautiful
And yet
The world is the most beautiful when it pours
But it is utterly ethereal in its aftermath
In the still clean quite like an empty chapel
The sun rearing it’s head from behind wispy feather clouds
All is calm
For this is the worlds post-baptism
It’s rejuvenation
It’s rebirth
Water droplets trickling down stain glass pink petals
The dove re-emerges calling out its choir song
The bluebird responds humming out his own hymns
The closest I’ve come to believing in god is in the wake of the storm
In the hush of washed out sins repainted pale blue
For in this moment we are all reduced to nothing but Gods children
In the peace after the storm
Aug 30, 2018
Aug 30, 2018 at 6:33 PM UTC
Necro night, obsessive polish...
smooth as a piano's torso.
A man profanes the vested
interests of his body with starry
eyeshot.
Stuffing the pig of non being
with a star's nonlinear light.
The rapid fire vexations of a
king invade him, unspecified
bidding must be carried out.
He sees the world scurry,
sevitude's hand and foot--the
glutted pig of his non being
belches tremulously.
The horror of full emptiness
drives him from star to star, his
subjects multiply to appease
the royal malcontent.
He tears into curses cast at God,
the king blacks out.
The night sits encased in a man's
room, ants of darkness crawl on
him...he lets out a sigh...then begs
sleep.
Oct 17, 2016
Oct 17, 2016 at 1:49 PM UTC
Crusading for love
to understand being
leaving the lens no vision for seeing
momentary glances keep the spirit alive
with vexations abound they tear at my soul
Nashing and clawing
As i stand at this yawning
Will i jump in will i submit
Crashing around me in this sulphur pit
Aghast it stops the rational clicks
that clear inner voice turning dark into light
vexations and demons they leave with great flight
I had known all along i was up for this fight x
Mar 5, 2014
Mar 5, 2014 at 9:56 PM UTC