"warring" poems
Why Men Cry in the Bathroom
For so many reasons.
I will tell you the why.
I think you know,
Or perhaps, you think you know.
Men are always O.K.,
Even when not.
We expect the worse,
Accept the worse,
Nonetheless,
We are forever unprepared.
Wearily, we cry,
In the bathroom, in private,
Lest sighs slip by,
We be unmasked,
Early warring, strife signs warning.
Copious, tho we weep
Before the mirror confessor,
It is relief untethered,
Unbinding of the feet,
An uncounting
Of beaded rosaries,
Of freshly fallen hail stones,
Of night times terrors
By dawn's early edition's light,
and welcomed.
But look for the mute tear,
The eye-cornered drop,
*** tat, that never drops,
But never ceases formation and
Reforming, over and over again,
In a state of perpetuity of reconstitution,
*The tippy tear of an iceberg revealing,
And I see you peeping, wondering,
What is beneath*
Look for:
the torn worm-eaten edges of spirit,
thrift shop bought, extra worn,
grieving lines neath the eyes,
where the salt has evaporated,
discolored the skin.
worry lines,
under and above,
browed mapped, furrowed boundaries.
the laugh line saga,
where better days are stored,
recalled, as well as recanted,
publicly, privately.
Why just men?
I don't know,
Perhaps,
it is all I know. end.<nml>
Jan 6, 2013
Jun 22, 2013
Jun 22, 2013 at 10:46 AM UTC
The quarrel of the sparrows in the eaves,
The full round moon and the star-laden sky,
And the loud song of the ever-singing leaves,
Had hid away earth's old and weary cry.
And then you came with those red mournful lips,
And with you came the whole of the world's tears,
And all the trouble of her laboring ships,
And all the trouble of her myriad years.
And now the sparrows warring in the eaves,
The curd-pale moon, the white stars in the sky,
And the loud chaunting of the unquiet leaves,
Are shaken with earth's old and weary cry.
28.7k
Brain, brain go away
Don't want to listen one more day
Already lonely and afraid
Feel insecure and full of shame
Brain, brain don't act this way
You're always angry; Filled with hate
You know we're joined; Can't separate
Yourself your punching in the face
Brain, brain what can I say
To make it so you see things straight
Don't know how much more I can take
Of constant warring and debate
Brain, brain it's getting late
This journey's not some endless race
Life's flying by and at this pace
Forget a win; Not gonna place
Brain, brain let's medicate
I'll feed you drugs and we'll sedate
The only way to mitigate
Discrepancies we generate
Brain, brain we sadly waste
This outcome feels like it was fate
But never was there a sealed date
Fulfilling what we self-create
Brain, brain so much we faced
Success so close could almost taste
Instead our tail we always chased
We'll die alone sad and disgraced
Mar 7, 2019
Mar 7, 2019 at 9:48 AM UTC
Make it through make it true
Lay it bare if you dare
Banish doubt make it count
Look around you’ve made it there
Shout it far show your scars
Fill the day with twenty-four hours
This is it what we’ve got
Looks like **** but it’s ours
You see this life filled with strife
So much hurt so much pain
Now you win now you lose
One’s loss another’s gain
It wasn’t meant to be pretty
Empty towns ***** cities
People all around have issues
Insecure, lost and misused
You can choose to stay and fight
Assert yourself claim your rights
Or decide to turn away
Make your mark another day
Showing up is half the battle
Knocked down back in the saddle
It’s not the wins and the losses
It’s the learning it’s a process
At the end of the day
Stop and do the math
Those who've made hay
Don’t have to look back.
May 21, 2015
May 21, 2015 at 12:38 AM UTC
by— Josiah Israel
Twas oft the way in days of old,
When knight would battle brave and bold,
The damsels hand in hopes to hold,
Worth more then polished Stone, or Gold
For this is what a boy is told
When day is done and night is cold…
“One day my son, thy chance will come
Though courage oft may waver,
When lady waits, through sable gates
For thee brave lad, to save her!”
For when a dragon stole a maid,
Awaiting ransom duly paid,
Twas bravest knight, armor arrayed
With noble steed and burnished blade
Rode swiftly to the damsels aid…
“You have not birth of high degree
Yet be thou brave and fight,
For low in rank thy birth may be
Yet heart makes noble knight!”
And after facing beast and foe
The knight with maiden free would go
Away to fields in need of ***
For seeds ere winter need to grow
And none can reap who do not sow…
“Not all you do will win a prize
Of gold or silver bent,
So reap a harvest good in size
And be thee well content.”
And when the battle horn he hears
The knight must banish all his fears
And ride to war, with battle cheers
On maidens cheek alight her tears
Fearing death, she spends the years…
“To win renown in battle
Might also be your path,
May your enemies armor rattle
As they feel your righteous wrath!”
But after kings campaign is done
The knight to home will swiftly run
From dusk through night to rising sun
Till maiden sees her hero come
Heart moving swift, a beating drum
Her heart a prize which first he won!
“Home is best at warring's end
To be with those you cherish,
A place to rest, your wounds to mend
Where love will never perish”
Though all the kingdom knows his name
And minstrels spread the brave knights fame
His love for she, remains the same
And they live happily, Knight and Dame…
Jan 5, 2017
Jan 5, 2017 at 8:58 PM UTC
*When minds start warring
Reason loses its way
Chaos prevails*
© Amitav (Radiance)
May 27, 2014
May 27, 2014 at 4:02 AM UTC
I.
I'm writing to tell you that I've spoken with your sister.
She tells me everything these days, though recently I've marked the way her voice conceals a quiet shame; rage in casual tones, and fear in quiet whispers.
I haven't kissed her in quite some time.
She's thinking of you.
II.
I'm sorry that I haven't written sooner. This fasting saps volition from my fingers, and the hot smell of ozone still lingers in the air.
But everywhere I see you on the news.
Has Ramadan been hard for you this year? I'm looking forward to hearing from you. I want to know that you are near once more. Please write.
III.
I saw an action flick today, and something of you in the way the heroine roared and flipped her hair just before letting a rocket fly.
I thought that I would die of suspense until the moment when the hero rose from the rubble to stand above his foes.
Crows circled. Credits rolled.
IV.
Thunder tolls. The atmosphere crackles and bursts. It's early yet, and not even my worst. My warring hands will never give you peace. An endless war-song issues from my lips.
You are not brave enough, dear girl, to resist destruction by my hand. The bomb blessed by my lips is indifferent, darling boy.
I will consume the gardens planted with your seeds.
V.
Bismillah, arrahman, arraheem.
VI.
Blessed is he who cries out for peace.
The Lord sees him and sees that he is good.
Blessed is she who dines before the sunrise and loses her life at noon, still clad in vestments of her childhood.
VII.
Eid Mubarak, and peace be with you every year. I've yet to hear from you.
I saw your sister again today. Whatever tinged her voice still holds her.
She said she hasn't written.
It matters who writes, so write a love-letter, I told her.
She's thinking of you.
Aug 9, 2014
Aug 9, 2014 at 11:55 PM UTC
Eighteen misses and three survivors
Two broken marriages with one spiteful lost love
Two warring sisters and too many brothers
Numbers don’t always make the lives of another
Crocheted angels and heartfelt hugs
Gone are the days of each of those
Responsible, avoidant, and spoiled
Resentment, confusion, and miscommunication
Ghosts of the past
Harried, busy, and distant
Buy back the time
Patience, hope, and acceptance
Crowding the cast
Three lives play out creating six more
One life still here caught in time
One life locked in with ghosts of the past
cc062611
Jun 26, 2011
Jun 26, 2011 at 2:11 PM UTC
Drink and warring
Swords and resting
Women our heaven
Bards our telling
Ships laden.
Mar 23, 2014
Mar 23, 2014 at 8:05 PM UTC
she likes to dance in cemeteries naked
warring little but jeweled ***** bells,
ankle bracelets
toe rings
bingles, bangles, piercings,
through ******* and nose
her tongue split
each side wiggling independently
she gives head on a head stone
her blow jobs
like two undulating mouths
her skin inked with
black and blood tattoos that say
*Satan's little ***** *****
double penetrations preferred porfavor
the more buttery big ***** and pastry puffy ******* the better*
she
all purple hair tinged red
and antler horned hat
with silver toe and finger nails
a crazy saint sane
adored by the popes of the lascivious
eyes wide open over a crimson mouth sneer
cherry pout lips
gods gift to ***** and vaginas
a temple of relief exalting
Eros
a **** it bucket list of lust
her heart
cotton candy in flames
****** like a river of smashed potatoes
in cream
she like
phases of a corpse moon
begs to be used after death
like pigment on canvas
smeared red globes and chiaroscuro
she playing dead
living it up
do you know her
she keeps her secret hidden
on her sleeve
while you keep yours
from yourself
*bless me father for I have sinned
and loved every minute of it
yet dare not be happy
for fear of Gods rage*
my soul saved
turned fertile earth to sand
and shrouding vistas of light
till the bed is the bed
of the living dead
so there's nothin left but work and sleep
and dreams of drunken **** madness are buried
under the weight
marked forbidden
black sun curse
hips sway in ashes
a forbidden dance
Feb 22, 2018
Feb 22, 2018 at 10:42 AM UTC
Every battle of a warrior
is riddled with confused
noise!
The garment of a warrior
is rolled in blood!
When the bricks are falling
down, a warrior builds
with hewn trees
When the sycamore are cut
down, a warrior replaces
them with cedar
In the lifting of the smoke he
burns down wickedness
and its fire with stout heart
Certain in certainty, the trees
in the wood bow to the
warring winds in the battle of a
warrior!
Warrior sings upfront in
victory and for victory,
standing determined on
the mountain of courage
and faith, dutifully
worshipping on the altar
of fearlessness and glory.
Mar 1, 2019
Mar 1, 2019 at 4:27 AM UTC
# *I hadn’t meant to spy
just an evening’s walk along the beach
knowing that things are sometimes strewn there after storms
between a gust of wind—a break in clouds
Coming upon moonlight
gleaming on wet teenage backs
Two—
by a leaning erosion fence
fondling the last discoveries of childhood
fumbling with the barriers of her bikini
behind the erosion fence
out of sight and forbidding
Breeding like sea grass by rhizomes
prowling that neck, those *******
Gasping! Warring!
for the land of white warmth below their tans
His hands grip, lift, position, insist
By such undertow
mouths and hips pinioned in disbelief...
where they cannot be seen
two half-rounds in rhythm – struggle in the surge of being
as the surf binds them in refrains
about the ankles* #
Mar 25, 2018
Mar 25, 2018 at 9:48 PM UTC
.
Lear wanders in stormy open, bares warring elements,
The heavens blister, crackle, night is balmy shroud,
Wretched monarch babbles in sprinkles of wind cold,
Arguments lost by ones own pouring perturbations
And raining sky said 'nothing will come from nothing.'
Howl, howls into blackness treed in lightning splits,
His outcast soul, reels, fleshed, cut to smithereens,
Tang of salt burns on the bluffs and the sea rages,
So entire and ceremonious is Lear's fall meted out,
Air spoke, 'nothing from nothings ever yet was born.'
Sky proclaimed to man child King, here is a reckoning,
Each mad choice was self infliction, now wind flays
And sweet Cordelia lies in her innocent **** grave,
Sky, in thralls of thundering asks, 'what say thee now,
King of highborn follies, even purple heaths are rags,
Yet black and above you and night shades, whine,
Unworthy King, done in by compounded effects,
The might of maelstroms in low butterflies wings,
How now, bare trees, knifing reeds, skeletal flashes,
To rains of night are ever your lanyards my lord,'
Sad Lear so near oblivion fell mute, sky went on,
'Howl and cry mad King your reaper calls beyond,
The icy brisk heavens await to brusque you away,
Your slipshod kingdom was mere and fools' dream,
Howl, til howls abrupt abate, for nothing now comes.'
May 27, 2015
May 27, 2015 at 10:10 PM UTC
Venezia, its musical key of brick and shade
And the canals in rejoining polyphony
Sweeten the dour Church-ear.
From the impasto knife and loose brushwork,
A thumb-smear of waves and gently-bristled strife
Rise to assumption of the cloud-submerged bay,
Mural of cristallo, only-light without landscape,
Made too from the winds of Murano,
Its clayed blowpipe of waterways molding
The lagoon of blown glass and bouquet of colored sea-shadows.
The Tiber lies on its side, like the lion and fox,
Licking its paws at empire’s dust,
A drifting gaze of water that already foresees
The swift-run northward to Romagna,
Where the veined fur of the roe will succumb…
A ripple twitches like one dark claw of the Borgia…
The watercolors of the Arno are a fresco
On the wet plaster of the lips of Firenze, Tuscan fire-dream.
Or like the warring leg in curve of counterpoise,
Sprung foot-forward to the daring world
And arm slung down in stone-victory
From this valley, too much like Elah,
With taunting eyes turned from the Medici toward Rome.
May 13, 2019
May 13, 2019 at 10:06 AM UTC
Palm Sunday is upon us,
Christ's triumphant arrival,
A week before his death,
With no chance of survival,
Jesus died to save mankind,
On that Easter day,
Risen on the sabbath,
Risen from where he lay,
Doesn't look like mankind cares,
For what he did on that day,
With all the wars that's warring,
The world's in disarray.
Mar 27, 2015
Mar 27, 2015 at 11:54 AM UTC
At times can be seen melting together
One into the other like a loving couple
At times drifting as a lonely wanderer
The clouds are there to imitate people
It can't move on a journey on its own
Without energy clouds are immovable
It'll stay motionless if not wind blown
Prodding to be productive like people
Some are peacocks parading with flair
Of damsels bosoms as white as marble
Putting air pompous what do I care
Show fame without shame like people
Arms ready for war it's getting warm
They gather warring forces for battle
They march whip up a thunderstorm
Rainclouds hungry for war like people
Clouds can be big cloud can be small
Can be rich prosperous can be poor
Like people accumulate only to lose all
To earn and loss and earn once more
They orbit the earth decorated the sky
Unaware of mortal affairs just rumble
Prone to fallacy or vanity as you and I
Can't help noticed clouds are like people
Nov 16, 2017
Nov 16, 2017 at 11:29 PM UTC
she gave me her cell #,
in a crowded bar
inked upon my forearm,
"in case in my drunkness, I dare forget,"
a common come-on technique,
that reeks of all good things to come
but I failed to see,
in the little letters,
"@ your own peril"
a warning, poorly heeded,
inflaming my now unimaginable
needy neededs,
just a **** come on,
or a warring warning of tumult,
vampirish blood *******
with cautious haste,
her number I did paste
into my contact list,
'in case of loss, call,'
when sudden notifications galore,
came unbidden from everywhere:
Are you really sure?
these digits seems were posted on a
Do Not Call list,
maintained by monks and bro's,
no, no, not a list of
what-rhymes-with-bro's,
but of fallen angels,
who knew the secrets of heaven
the price extracted for their revealing,
could cause you life long
arthritis of the heart,
per the Surgeon General,
for which the only cure,
endure, endure, endure...
the prize?
endless wonderful new poems, freely given,
but with one strictest of restrictions,
if published,
it meant your slow extinction!
*that is why the world calls me
Poet of the Way,
forever trying to find a way,
to away these treasured glories*
then one day,
he laughed and laughed,
when he first he read the magic key,
your poem, successfully saved *on
Hello Poetry!*
and now the poet endures,
even possibly, self-saved,
quite happily
Sep 4, 2017
Sep 4, 2017 at 7:30 AM UTC
∙∙∙◦◦•◎•◦◦∙∙∙
Going to the mountaintop
nothing to keep
to see, an explicit wonders
a blissful dream
only, holding in my hands
a flute withstand
when I reach at top of peek
I inhaled a scent
that nobody ever breathed
with full air I blew
forces of nature awakening
*A Galway style comes out
music bars slithered
all across coming
down my feet
guiding notes far & near
peace touched to
the rivers warring
solitude filled the valleys
fairies and goblins
in delitescent
filled with great joy,
the mountains were vivified*
At the end of my song
I blew a soaring note above
and caves opened
some going here and there
hopping, waving
trees bowed with splendor
And all I saw comes frolicly
sigh of full relief
my phantasms has finished
on my way home
leaving my flute up a stone
hoping someday,
someone, would be willing
-enough to play
to hear my song over again
Jul 25, 2017
Jul 25, 2017 at 9:32 AM UTC
The Lion and the Bull
The Wolf and the Crow
How we met and fell in love
is a mystery we may never know
But, here we are,
twenty years in
and we glare through glazed stares
wondering how to start again
Your freedom of expression
clashing against my sensitive ears
My rebellion against repression
is warring with your fears
How do we cross this battlefield
with our shields in the air?
With our spears raised high,
can we show that we care?
We're ready to fight
and we want to join sides
together against the odds
for the rest of our lives.
070815~1.34p
Jul 8, 2015
Jul 8, 2015 at 4:37 PM UTC
They began without notice, in the city of Mombasa
By the Al shabab shooting baby Osinya in the head,
Killed the mother, leaving a slug stuck in Osinya’s head
Killing and mauling many others macabrously,
Killing for no other reason, but tribe and faith,
Their victims confess different religion and ethnicity.
They had initially lynched the West Gate Mall
In Nairobi, killing the aged and seasoned darling
Of African poetry and true fountain of peace
The dearest Kofi Awonor, in full watch of his son,
Confirming a trail of the ghastly curse of fate and death
That totted him arduously from his home in the west
Of the tropical gulag that makes the land of Africa
From where the terror maestro ; Boko haram reign scot free
Mayheming, Killing, ****** and kidnapping harmless virgins
Killing For no other reason but tribe and faith,
Their victims confess different religion and ethnicity.
They have now killed fifty peasants in Mpeketon town,
****** them in circles to puncture their virginity
and brutally kidnapping those that are not *****
Using the AK 47 and the Ak 74 to shoot and ****
Without reason nor course but failure of mind
Botched down by authenticity of holy diversity
Heavenly packaged in God’s idea of tribe,
Uhm! An African man with a gun is a brute of brutes,
Giving an African a gun is simple mess of the world
In to helter-skelter poise tilting peace higgledy-piggledy,
Killing one another like animals premised by Charles Darwin
As overtly seen in the warring Congo and CAR,
Where Africans **** one another in a stupid dint,
To ape Rwanda or no! To outshine the Jewish Massacre
In the Ammonium chambers of fuehrer Adolf ******
This stupid Africans baser than wild beasts,
Who told you that your greatness will come
from killing your neighbours; the fellow peasants?
These African men are the modern homoguerrillus,
Which one call cheap war making man
They and **** ! **** **** **** **** **** ****
For no other reason but faith and tribe,
Their victims confess different religion and ethnicity.
Gunshots of the gunmen in Africa are not
A song of the caged bird, no whatsoever,
They are cowardly maneuvers of the weak
As the weak and cowards rarely forgive,
They arm themselves to the teeth
With deadly weapons from Russia or wherever
Only to shoot and **** the old and malnourished
Peasant women, killing the likes of baby Osinya
Shooting a suckling baby to prove your heroism,
These African men are really a Whiteman’s burden,
They **** their fellows from cockcrow to chick roost
For no other reason but tribe and faith,
Their victims confess different religion and ethnicity.
Jun 18, 2014
Jun 18, 2014 at 9:45 AM UTC
ruminating
cogitating
pondering
thinking
the subject matter doth
put the mind into a thought seat
is there sufficient verbs for me
to place on the paper's sheet
verbs by definition are words
which have an action
they on the reader
do have an impaction
so let's explore a topic
worth a thousand of them
how I'll express this piece
shall test my mind's stem
here is the matter I shall discuss
without any duress or manner of fuss
all over the globe there is much trouble
our planet is not as a carefree bubble
the inhabitants often observe strife somewhere
our corners of four not of an according air
were there to be peace and calmed relations
no concerns would beset our world's many nations
yet a propensity for war doth ever prevail
what sane men shall see the wrongs of this pail
verbs shall never explain man's idiocy
as he's ever involving himself in armory
yet a man who did advocate cordiality
lived with his brothers in true harmony
he was a meek man of the Indian land
a message of non-violence he did band
the lessons of history are never heard
man seemingly ever in the warring herd
the middle east is a tinder box of hell this day
exploding bombs and munitions all spray in affray
verbs of dialogue aren't put to good use
an ongoing lighting of the fuse doth suffuse
few statesmen of Gandhi's ilk now exist
so the torture and torment of war shall e'er persist
diplomacy has lost its edge around the globe
our planet shall remain bound in worrisome lobe
the count of verbs in this piece didn't quite reach a thousand
yet deaths in conflicts outdo that number by the thousands
Nov 16, 2014
Nov 16, 2014 at 5:18 AM UTC
(Genesis chapter 1:6 and God said: “Let there be a firmament in the midst of the water, and let the waters be divided by the water.” I never understood this statement, well not until I wrote this poem).
The ocean.
It’s just a wetter version of the sky
a graveyard' of poetry
that broke into my heart and open my eyes,
and I saw the brightest darkness mirror reading
handwritten dreams cuffing the stars consoling the rain
whom tears laugh
and in that laughter, I hear the words
God hates you
these insulting tears that only once god could hear
now speaks to me with warring tongues
and I had nothing deep to say
just a crushed sentence
a pile of regret
a sky that jumped on my train thought
and we went from an angelic blue to a halo of black.
God, I do apologize if you feel like I have displeased you.
See I have been searching for a weightless god
because the others are too heavy
and too weak like watered down gospel,
Weak like the dark side of poetry
Weak like a religious inside joke no one gets
Forgive me for you know everything I don't
so tell me am I a self-portrait of you and will you promise to
clean ***** lost souls like mine
and will u forgive me for having an enchanted mind
You see I often mistook you for a poem that has never been written
Mistook you for masculine words that became undone
I mistook you for a selfless father that has more than one son
Mistook you for a sky filled with multiple sunsets.
I know nothing of you,
you unseen god
tell me am I of the other god
am I his fleshly creation standing outside my normal heartbeat
and on the footnotes of his story
standing breathing whirlwinds on death ears of soundless music
into the lungs of his bible
The lungs of his heaven that often resembles the blood stains in his hell
blood that flows throughout my veins and into an anthem of sorrow
Sung with broken tongues
sorrow buried in all kind if ancient languages
And I sit in this hell crying with roses
that's been wounded by his thoughts and
his words shoved into each other and I hate this
so much that I stripped down to pain and
I am exposed naked with caution
and I can see that my heart is a jealous god also
an egoistic ghost filled with love I never felt
a love that has no title
a love I am not entitled to feel
and why should I be
When that god knows I am a sleepwalking addict high off of pain
why should I be when that God knows I am as useless as a headless butterfly
When I should be more like the ocean
Yeah just a wetter version of the sky
The human body is made up of 75% water
(So in Genesis chapter 1:6 when God said “Let the water be divided by the water.” Where did that water go? It is in me).
Oct 2, 2018
Oct 2, 2018 at 12:47 PM UTC
Hush!
Listen do you hear the silence above the roar of life?
Hush!
Do you hear your heart beating to your life's song?
Hush!
Do you see the sky above blanketing and comforting?
Hush!
Do you feel the world spinning around? With you standing still upon it?
Hush! Sshhhh! Quiet.
Listen to the flow of earth's blood in her rivers and streams,
feel her warmth from the sun like an adoring parental gaze.
Touch her thrumming life in her growing forests, see her wonders created for us her children.
Hear her lullaby before she is muted, choked, buried alive by us, with
our waste, our destruction, deforestation, over fishing, hunting.
****** the fruitful earth 'til she our mother is barren and useless.
Mother Earth is weeping and above the roar of our selfish modern sound, we do not hear her crying, or see her tears silently falling.
Falling onto selfish mankind.
Gaia that great mother to all, giver of birth to earth and it's universe
is a woman reclining upon the earth surrounded by a host of jealous warring infant adults the fruits of her labours.
Oaths sworn in the name of Gaia, in ancient Greece, were considered the most binding of all.
Sep 9, 2014
Sep 9, 2014 at 12:09 PM UTC
Teacher: Alright Panda what are your Favorite colors?
Me: My favorite colors are Red and Black
Teacher: Interesting colors Panda, why are those your colors?
Me: I honestly doubt you want to hear the answer to that.
Teacher: Come on Panda, tell the class why those are your colors.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
In my head the decision warred to tell but then my life was already hard enough as it was......More and more my demons wanted release so finally I gave in prepared for the looks, name calling, and lonely life again.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------Me: you really want to know why?
Teacher: Very much yes, we would
Me: Ok then, Red and black are my favorite colors for their meanings.
Teacher: And what are their meanings?
Me: Red, stands for The blood that is shed during death, The blood that I shed when the knife glides over my skin, The blood that can be heard rushing through your veins when the fear becomes to great....The blood that your heart leaks from the poorly covered cracks from being shattered so many times....
Teacher: (Gulps) And what about black Panda?
Me: *Black.....My true color.....Black, stands for the darkness and destruction warring in my mind, body, and soul, The darkness after death, The darkness in my heart from all the hatred thrown at me, The Darkness and destruction from my inner demons who keep warm and safe at night, The Darkness that one day we will all see, because nobody can escape death....Hes one bad-ass Mother ****** who always gets his way....Those are my colors....The colors that make me and I stand for...*
Teacher: Ummm....Very...Very Interesting Panda (Gulps and steps away) You know I think it's time for lunch why don't we all go to lunch yea? ( Scurries away)
Other students: I told you she was a freak......Crazy......Belongs with the dead if you ask me.....She talks about demons so much I would be surprised if she wasn't one.....
Me: Smirks You guys should learn to keep your opinions to your self, they might get you hurt one day.... (Get's up and walks out the door leaving a note for the others)
Note- "Roses are Red, Violates are blue, Red like your blood, blue like the sea....Keep on talking soon you will all see who the true demon is and hey it just might be me." Yours truly Panda <3
Mar 31, 2015
Mar 31, 2015 at 3:35 PM UTC
The walls close in slowly, as the light begins to fade
No more youthful smiles, the days only masked with grey
And yet the world keeps turning
People rushing on by
Filling their days with worry,
a tear drop wets my eye.
Can you feel the hunger burning,
your stomach turns to rot
As all are born must stop breathing, eventually an afterthought.
Can you see the light upon the hill for which we all aspire?
Tis the goal of justice, held in the arms of another.
Who is it that holds the key to swing open heaven’s gate
?
Can we obtain succor, to save us from this state?
Socrates says it is the philosopher king;
But even kings are mortal captains
And their love of knowledge
cannot stop them from unjust folly
How does one find the answer to what is the moral law of God?
Does it uplift the personality, or curse it free from thought?
Better yet, what is your **** worth?
Would you lay down your life a martyr
to bury your brother beneath the dirt?
Left in a world so full of imperfection, we take refuge in the days advances
Television, computers, ipods, and Wiis, lose your self in trivial things.
This distraction gives those in power all that they can want,
For if good men cannot engage and stop the warring
There is nothing to halt man’s wayward plot.
Sin is separation; there is no us and them.
That is your ego and your thought deploring
A mind bereft of ken.
Open up your Eye young child, become the all-seeing Zen
Only then Justice will not matter,
For Justice will be in all of us again.
Jan 13, 2014
Jan 13, 2014 at 10:08 PM UTC