Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Holiday Jan 2
(We could break the last straw.
Running through these trap doors.
Baby this the last call.
Going gone, blast off.
We goin hit the roof top, moon walk ...Baby we are N.A.S.A)

Don't need no G5 denied.
I might free dive the sky.
Live like I retired tonight.
I got these tigers in my eyes.
I wanna re-re-revive you
re-re-revive you.
re-ig-nite the fuel.
We live our life for two.
We got the nicest moves.
There's no time to lose.
I got my eyes on you.
Roll em we can make truce.
That's my kind of groove.

(..We could break the last straw.
Running through these trap doors.
Baby this the last call.
Going gone, blast off.
We goin hit the roof top, moon walk ...Baby we are N.A.S.A)

Check my momentum.
We're glowing through the spectrum.
They want the nectar.
Do it until they necks hurt.
All over the map we in a whole different vector.
This the knight life apple of my eye.
Yaa we do it like the templars.
I'm always gone
So I never know wen digo
wen digo
wen wen digo
wen wen digo
wen digo
wen wen digo
wen wen digo
wen digo
wen wen digo
wen wen digo
wen digo
wen wen digo

(..We could break the last straw.
Running through these trap doors.
Baby this the last call.
Going gone, blast off.
We goin hit the roof top, moon walk ...Baby we are N.A.S.A)
Holiday Jan 3
(We could break the last straw.
Running through these trap doors.
Baby this the last call.
Going gone, blast off.
We goin hit the roof top, moon walk ...Baby we are N.A.S.A

Don't need no G5 denied.
I might free dive the sky.
Live like I retired tonight.
I got these tigers in my eyes.
I wanna re-re-revive you
re-re-revive you.
re-ig-nite the fuel.
We live our life for two.
We got the nicest moves.
There's no time to lose.
I got my eyes on you.
That's my kind of groove.

(..We could break the last straw.
Running through these trap doors.
Baby this the last call.
Going gone, blast off.
We goin hit the roof top, moon walk ...Baby we are N.A.S.A

Check my momentum.
We're glowing through the spectrum.
They want the nectar.
Do it until they necks hurt.
All over the map we in a whole different vector.
This the knight life apple of my eye.
Yaa we do it like the templars.
I'm always gone
So I never know wen digo
wen digo
wen wen digo
wen digo
wen digo
wen wen digo
wen digo
wen digo
wen wen digo
wen digo
wen digo
wen wen digo

(..We could break the last straw.
Running through these trap doors.
Baby this the last call.
Going gone, blast off.
We goin hit the roof top, moon walk ...Baby we are N.A.S.A)
Take some
Mandar Gavkar Aug 2014
 someone can be anyone...
Someone who vl love you as u are
someone who vl care fr you
someone who vl hold you while you fall
someone who vl make feel better wen ur sad.
someone who vl just sit next to you wen when u hv nthng to say..
Someone who vl make you smile wen you cry..
 Someone who vl just smile seeing you smile..
Someone who vl just hold ur hand wen othr point fingers towards u..
Someone who vl understnd wen ur angry..
Someone who vl appretiate your love..
Someone positive someone beautiful at heart
someone other than family
someone special
someone awsome just like angel...
   We all need or expect and are in search of "that" SOMEONE who u want to be
in ur life forevr..
  Not evryone is so lucky,
so , just be that someone , to someone , who is in search of such a someone..and
You vl nvr knw,Wen tat someone vl become your someone....
Mandar Gavkar Aug 2014
 someone can be anyone...
Someone who vl love you as u are
someone who vl care fr you
someone who vl hold you while you fall
someone who vl make feel better wen ur sad.
someone who vl just sit next to you wen when u hv nthng to say..
Someone who vl make you smile wen you cry..
 Someone who vl just smile seeing you smile..
Someone who vl just hold ur hand wen othr point fingers towards u..
Someone who vl understnd wen ur angry..
Someone who vl appretiate your love..
Someone positive someone beautiful at heart
someone other than family
someone special
someone awsome just like angel...
   We all need or expect and are in search of "that" SOMEONE who u want to be
in ur life forevr..
  Not evryone is so lucky,
so , just be that someone , to someone , who is in search of such a someone..and
You vl nvr knw,Wen tat someone vl become your someone....
preeti Dec 2014
My meditation is you ..
This warm feeling which i feel wen u r near me is worship for me .. My peace lies within ur company, this deep silence with smile on our faces wen we r lying on bed together , my happiness is around you .. the way we giggle over everything and nothing ..the way we laugh together for hours & hours non stop for such silly and non funny things  makes me most happy . My childhood lies in you... The way i become child in front of you and we  do most stupid things together and yet find them the most creative things and praise each other innocence lies in you .. The way i get to do such simple things and yet feel so empowered and content ... My pamperness lies in you ..the way i get angry and you come to me plant kisses on my lips , cheeks,forehead cup my cheeks with your two tiny hands i feel the most pampered person on this earth . My anger lies in you ..the way u and i get angry from each other and without any ego we both hug each other like lost lovers for make up . My passion lies in you ..the way you inspire me , motivate me each day to excel in whatever i am doing . My strength lies in you the way you look into my eyes wen i get weak and assure me that i cant loose the hope and charge me with all divine energy .. I find my world in ur embrace .. This purity of relationship i feel wen i and you do things for each other without any expectations and unconditional makes me feel the power of spirituality have taught me to smile in pain and be calm then ..this power within i realized wen i held you for the first time and still i feel it ..i feel some kind of firm supernatural power flowing in my veins , blood.. wenever u fall sick or fall down i get strongness in me to smile keeping all pain inside me..   My world lies in you .. I love you my darling daughter "yuvakshi" you are my great teacher and love of life ..and i feel so proud to admit that for the first time in my life " i am in love and i am rising in this love with each day passing and each moment growing , thanks for making me such a strong person and yes a "COMPLETE WOMAN" love mumma.
Brent Kincaid Mar 2016
You, yew and ewe.
New, knew and gnu.
Two, too and to.
Do, dew and doo.
Your, you’re, ewer and yore.
Sower, sewer and even sore.

Pin, pen
Win, wen.
Tin, ten.
Bin, been.

For, four, and fore.
Poor, pour and pore.
Bear, bare and bayer.
There, their and they’re.
Sure, sewer, shore and shower.
Censor, censure, sensor, censer.

Din, den.
Kin, ken.
Win, wen.
Yin, yen.

Shoulda, coulda and woulda,
Wanna, hafta and hadda.
Pitchers painted of pitchers
Ree-lutters instead of realtors.
Pertecting you with protection.
Prescribing you a perscription.
A different kind of differnse,
For instance, gimme a frinstance.

Pin, pen
Win, wen.
Tin, ten.
Bin, been.
Din, den.
Kin, ken.
Win, wen.
Yin, yen.
mike Dec 2013
all those Bad people? those ******* who arent even civil enough to take a life?
those monsters:
who capture the lives and take from them. take eyes and fat and wombs. wutever they take. they kno. from things that kno its very very bad. well they dont really understand, i Guess.
those dont feel wut theyre doing anyway. and they make profit to keep their homes clean and large but i doubt any strength is involved with their families living in such nice homes. putting on daddys makeup from the stupid monkeys and whales and complaining in adolescence but full of makeup probably later on. because we have to forgive. and the stupid monkeys have no idea. wut the whale is feeling. because neither of them kno, but they feel it.
and wen things are bad...those PEOPLE, those people who do the worst and are covered by law while the dying worlds got their baks, wen things get reeeeal bad...for those really Fukd up pieces of **** in sharkskin suits? wen that happens like that to them, they **** their sharkskin pants. because they all believe in god against their better judgment wen their in a tigers mouth or sinking from a ship or being ***** and their face smashed by animal hands. so i guess they feel wuts populating their lives and then their souls too. i guess i havent really told you wut this makes me feel. and i dont kno wut to think. no one does. and i havent done anything.
Choices r needed in life
Choices r needed to find a wife
Choices r needed each year
Choices r needed to prevent fear
Choices r needed every month
Choices r needed to hav triumph
Choices r needed in every week
Choices r needed wen ur at the peak
Choices r needed in every day
Choices r needed In every way
Choices r needed in every hour
Choices r needed wen problems tower
I have feelings to feel
wen i see scars of inhumanity on
faces of dictators i feel vanishing them
wen i see developing future on the
ruins of rich past i feel deceasing them
I have feelings to feel
wen love is not adhered to its compassion
i feel loving the losing tears more
wen a child is not addressed with innocence
& reckless survival is a quest i feel questioning
every living being
I have feeling to feel
wen world is progression in every field
and sack of humans are roaring beneath
i feel conjuring unanimity

I have feelings to feel may masses start to feel my feelings
Along my feelings i feel to roar loudest & evoke masses know what can be done to feel my feelings
Mahesh Hegde Sep 2013
I got to say something to u,
Actually many things, in ma mind they've made a queue,
But in words how shud I put it to u,
Anyways frst thing is tht babe u look the best in blue.
I want to be wid u always, dnt care of usin a glue.
Wid u my life will be the tastiest brew,
We'll together touch the unending sky blue.
I will face anything in the world if at my back supporting always are u.

Take me away babe, I feel ur world is a land full of wonder.
Only the warmth spreads there n theres no thunder.
Is there anything which could be used between us as a Bonder..?
Wen it comes to u my mind begins to ponder,
An untidy wood I am n u r my sander,
I need ur heart in here wid me wid no thought of plunder.

Heart beats faster wen I look into ur eyes,
Wen u r not there my heart silently cries,
Just a glass of love is what I need from u in this wrld of prejudice,
If ever u get a bruise, for u I would be like an Ice,
I am not a king or smthing but I promise to make ur world a paradise.
Salacious Alice Apr 2015
Just wen i believed::
Jus wen i hoped::
Jus wen i smiled::
You ****** up::
Chrystos Minot Apr 2015
Hailstorms with big winds, trees writhing in breezes
Coyotes howling in moonlight, dogs when they sneezes
Alloys and carved toys, stone gargoyles with wings
These are a few of my favorite things.

Skunk smells carried gently on nocturnal breezes
Sly double entendres and tickley teases
Beautiful salmon colored sunsets that make my jaw drop
Smell of pine 'n cedar in my sauna and wood shop!

Dolphins and doggies and toddlers and mooses
Saunas and cold plunges and honking V-flying gooses
Small mutts and storytellers and Pixar cartoons
Crazy call of the Maine dark of night loons
These are some of my nurturing tunes!

Volcanoes with lava and magma all oozing
Cross country skiing just gliding and cruising
Receiving massages unwinding and unbruising
I love my collections of adhesives and strings
These are a few of my favorite things!

So when the wasps sting
When the bored people whine
Wen I'm feeling dispirited and sad
I just think of a few of my favorite things
And I don't feel…so…bad!
Written July-13-2013

Out of the little chapel I burst
Into the fresh night-air again.
Five minutes full, I waited first
In the doorway, to escape the rain
That drove in gusts down the common’s centre
At the edge of which the chapel stands,
Before I plucked up heart to enter.
Heaven knows how many sorts of hands
Reached past me, groping for the latch
Of the inner door that hung on catch
More obstinate the more they fumbled,
Till, giving way at last with a scold
Of the crazy hinge, in squeezed or tumbled
One sheep more to the rest in fold,
And left me irresolute, standing sentry
In the sheepfold’s lath-and-plaster entry,
Six feet long by three feet wide,
Partitioned off from the vast inside—
I blocked up half of it at least.
No remedy; the rain kept driving.
They eyed me much as some wild beast,
That congregation, still arriving,
Some of them by the main road, white
A long way past me into the night,
Skirting the common, then diverging;
Not a few suddenly emerging
From the common’s self through the paling-gaps,
—They house in the gravel-pits perhaps,
Where the road stops short with its safeguard border
Of lamps, as tired of such disorder;—
But the most turned in yet more abruptly
From a certain squalid knot of alleys,
Where the town’s bad blood once slept corruptly,
Which now the little chapel rallies
And leads into day again,—its priestliness
Lending itself to hide their beastliness
So cleverly (thanks in part to the mason),
And putting so cheery a whitewashed face on
Those neophytes too much in lack of it,
That, where you cross the common as I did,
And meet the party thus presided,
“Mount Zion” with Love-lane at the back of it,
They front you as little disconcerted
As, bound for the hills, her fate averted,
And her wicked people made to mind him,
Lot might have marched with Gomorrah behind him.


Well, from the road, the lanes or the common,
In came the flock: the fat weary woman,
Panting and bewildered, down-clapping
Her umbrella with a mighty report,
Grounded it by me, wry and flapping,
A wreck of whalebones; then, with a snort,
Like a startled horse, at the interloper
(Who humbly knew himself improper,
But could not shrink up small enough)
—Round to the door, and in,—the gruff
Hinge’s invariable scold
Making my very blood run cold.
Prompt in the wake of her, up-pattered
On broken clogs, the many-tattered
Little old-faced peaking sister-turned-mother
Of the sickly babe she tried to smother
Somehow up, with its spotted face,
From the cold, on her breast, the one warm place;
She too must stop, wring the poor ends dry
Of a draggled shawl, and add thereby
Her tribute to the door-mat, sopping
Already from my own clothes’ dropping,
Which yet she seemed to grudge I should stand on:
Then, stooping down to take off her pattens,
She bore them defiantly, in each hand one,
Planted together before her breast
And its babe, as good as a lance in rest.
Close on her heels, the dingy satins
Of a female something past me flitted,
With lips as much too white, as a streak
Lay far too red on each hollow cheek;
And it seemed the very door-hinge pitied
All that was left of a woman once,
Holding at least its tongue for the *****.
Then a tall yellow man, like the Penitent Thief,
With his jaw bound up in a handkerchief,
And eyelids ******* together tight,
Led himself in by some inner light.
And, except from him, from each that entered,
I got the same interrogation—
“What, you the alien, you have ventured
To take with us, the elect, your station?
A carer for none of it, a Gallio!”—
Thus, plain as print, I read the glance
At a common prey, in each countenance
As of huntsman giving his hounds the tallyho.
And, when the door’s cry drowned their wonder,
The draught, it always sent in shutting,
Made the flame of the single tallow candle
In the cracked square lantern I stood under,
Shoot its blue lip at me, rebutting
As it were, the luckless cause of scandal:
I verily fancied the zealous light
(In the chapel’s secret, too!) for spite
Would shudder itself clean off the wick,
With the airs of a Saint John’s Candlestick.
There was no standing it much longer.
“Good folks,” thought I, as resolve grew stronger,
“This way you perform the Grand-Inquisitor
When the weather sends you a chance visitor?
You are the men, and wisdom shall die with you,
And none of the old Seven Churches vie with you!
But still, despite the pretty perfection
To which you carry your trick of exclusiveness,
And, taking God’s word under wise protection,
Correct its tendency to diffusiveness,
And bid one reach it over hot ploughshares,—
Still, as I say, though you’ve found salvation,
If I should choose to cry, as now, ‘Shares!’—
See if the best of you bars me my ration!
I prefer, if you please, for my expounder
Of the laws of the feast, the feast’s own Founder;
Mine’s the same right with your poorest and sickliest,
Supposing I don the marriage vestiment:
So, shut your mouth and open your Testament,
And carve me my portion at your quickliest!”
Accordingly, as a shoemaker’s lad
With wizened face in want of soap,
And wet apron wound round his waist like a rope,
(After stopping outside, for his cough was bad,
To get the fit over, poor gentle creature
And so avoid distrubing the preacher)
—Passed in, I sent my elbow spikewise
At the shutting door, and entered likewise,
Received the hinge’s accustomed greeting,
And crossed the threshold’s magic pentacle,
And found myself in full conventicle,
—To wit, in Zion Chapel Meeting,
On the Christmas-Eve of ‘Forty-nine,
Which, calling its flock to their special clover,
Found all assembled and one sheep over,
Whose lot, as the weather pleased, was mine.


I very soon had enough of it.
The hot smell and the human noises,
And my neighbor’s coat, the greasy cuff of it,
Were a pebble-stone that a child’s hand poises,
Compared with the pig-of-lead-like pressure
Of the preaching man’s immense stupidity,
As he poured his doctrine forth, full measure,
To meet his audience’s avidity.
You needed not the wit of the Sibyl
To guess the cause of it all, in a twinkling:
No sooner our friend had got an inkling
Of treasure hid in the Holy Bible,
(Whene’er ‘t was the thought first struck him,
How death, at unawares, might duck him
Deeper than the grave, and quench
The gin-shop’s light in hell’s grim drench)
Than he handled it so, in fine irreverence,
As to hug the book of books to pieces:
And, a patchwork of chapters and texts in severance,
Not improved by the private dog’s-ears and creases,
Having clothed his own soul with, he’d fain see equipt yours,—
So tossed you again your Holy Scriptures.
And you picked them up, in a sense, no doubt:
Nay, had but a single face of my neighbors
Appeared to suspect that the preacher’s labors
Were help which the world could be saved without,
‘T is odds but I might have borne in quiet
A qualm or two at my spiritual diet,
Or (who can tell?) perchance even mustered
Somewhat to urge in behalf of the sermon:
But the flock sat on, divinely flustered,
Sniffing, methought, its dew of Hermon
With such content in every snuffle,
As the devil inside us loves to ruffle.
My old fat woman purred with pleasure,
And thumb round thumb went twirling faster,
While she, to his periods keeping measure,
Maternally devoured the pastor.
The man with the handkerchief untied it,
Showed us a horrible wen inside it,
Gave his eyelids yet another *******,
And rocked himself as the woman was doing.
The shoemaker’s lad, discreetly choking,
Kept down his cough. ‘T was too provoking!
My gorge rose at the nonsense and stuff of it;
So, saying like Eve when she plucked the apple,
“I wanted a taste, and now there’s enough of it,”
I flung out of the little chapel.


There was a lull in the rain, a lull
In the wind too; the moon was risen,
And would have shone out pure and full,
But for the ramparted cloud-prison,
Block on block built up in the West,
For what purpose the wind knows best,
Who changes his mind continually.
And the empty other half of the sky
Seemed in its silence as if it knew
What, any moment, might look through
A chance gap in that fortress massy:—
Through its fissures you got hints
Of the flying moon, by the shifting tints,
Now, a dull lion-color, now, brassy
Burning to yellow, and whitest yellow,
Like furnace-smoke just ere flames bellow,
All a-simmer with intense strain
To let her through,—then blank again,
At the hope of her appearance failing.
Just by the chapel a break in the railing
Shows a narrow path directly across;
‘T is ever dry walking there, on the moss—
Besides, you go gently all the way up-hill.
I stooped under and soon felt better;
My head grew lighter, my limbs more supple,
As I walked on, glad to have slipt the fetter.
My mind was full of the scene I had left,
That placid flock, that pastor vociferant,
—How this outside was pure and different!
The sermon, now—what a mingled weft
Of good and ill! Were either less,
Its fellow had colored the whole distinctly;
But alas for the excellent earnestness,
And the truths, quite true if stated succinctly,
But as surely false, in their quaint presentment,
However to pastor and flock’s contentment!
Say rather, such truths looked false to your eyes,
With his provings and parallels twisted and twined,
Till how could you know them, grown double their size
In the natural fog of the good man’s mind,
Like yonder spots of our roadside lamps,
Haloed about with the common’s damps?
Truth remains true, the fault’s in the prover;
The zeal was good, and the aspiration;
And yet, and yet, yet, fifty times over,
Pharaoh received no demonstration,
By his Baker’s dream of Baskets Three,
Of the doctrine of the Trinity,—
Although, as our preacher thus embellished it,
Apparently his hearers relished it
With so unfeigned a gust—who knows if
They did not prefer our friend to Joseph?
But so it is everywhere, one way with all of them!
These people have really felt, no doubt,
A something, the motion they style the Call of them;
And this is their method of bringing about,
By a mechanism of words and tones,
(So many texts in so many groans)
A sort of reviving and reproducing,
More or less perfectly, (who can tell?)
The mood itself, which strengthens by using;
And how that happens, I understand well.
A tune was born in my head last week,
Out of the thump-thump and shriek-shriek
Of the train, as I came by it, up from Manchester;
And when, next week, I take it back again,
My head will sing to the engine’s clack again,
While it only makes my neighbor’s haunches stir,
—Finding no dormant musical sprout
In him, as in me, to be jolted out.
‘T is the taught already that profits by teaching;
He gets no more from the railway’s preaching
Than, from this preacher who does the rail’s officer, I:
Whom therefore the flock cast a jealous eye on.
Still, why paint over their door “Mount Zion,”
To which all flesh shall come, saith the pro phecy?


But wherefore be harsh on a single case?
After how many modes, this Christmas-Eve,
Does the self-same weary thing take place?
The same endeavor to make you believe,
And with much the same effect, no more:
Each method abundantly convincing,
As I say, to those convinced before,
But scarce to be swallowed without wincing
By the not-as-yet-convinced. For me,
I have my own church equally:
And in this church my faith sprang first!
(I said, as I reached the rising ground,
And the wind began again, with a burst
Of rain in my face, and a glad rebound
From the heart beneath, as if, God speeding me,
I entered his church-door, nature leading me)
—In youth I looked to these very skies,
And probing their immensities,
I found God there, his visible power;
Yet felt in my heart, amid all its sense
Of the power, an equal evidence
That his love, there too, was the nobler dower.
For the loving worm within its clod
Were diviner than a loveless god
Amid his worlds, I will dare to say.
You know what I mean: God’s all man’s naught:
But also, God, whose pleasure brought
Man into being, stands away
As it were a handbreadth off, to give
Room for the newly-made to live,
And look at him from a place apart,
And use his gifts of brain and heart,
Given, indeed, but to keep forever.
Who speaks of man, then, must not sever
Man’s very elements from man,
Saying, “But all is God’s”—whose plan
Was to create man and then leave him
Able, his own word saith, to grieve him,
But able to glorify him too,
As a mere machine could never do,
That prayed or praised, all unaware
Of its fitness for aught but praise and prayer,
Made perfect as a thing of course.
Man, therefore, stands on his own stock
Of love and power as a pin-point rock:
And, looking to God who ordained divorce
Of the rock from his boundless continent,
Sees, in his power made evident,
Only excess by a million-fold
O’er the power God gave man in the mould.
For, note: man’s hand, first formed to carry
A few pounds’ weight, when taught to marry
Its strength with an engine’s, lifts a mountain,
—Advancing in power by one degree;
And why count steps through eternity?
But love is the ever-springing fountain:
Man may enlarge or narrow his bed
For the water’s play, but the water-head—
How can he multiply or reduce it?
As easy create it, as cause it to cease;
He may profit by it, or abuse it,
But ‘t is not a thing to bear increase
As power does: be love less or more
In the heart of man, he keeps it shut
Or opes it wide, as he pleases, but
Love’s sum remains what it was before.
So, gazing up, in my youth, at love
As seen through power, ever above
All modes which make it manifest,
My soul brought all to a single test—
That he, the Eternal First and Last,
Who, in his power, had so surpassed
All man conceives of what is might,—
Whose wisdom, too, showed infinite,
—Would prove as infinitely good;
Would never, (my soul understood,)
With power to work all love desires,
Bestow e’en less than man requires;
That he who endlessly was teaching,
Above my spirit’s utmost reaching,
What love can do in the leaf or stone,
(So that to master this alone,
This done in the stone or leaf for me,
I must go on learning endlessly)
Would never need that I, in turn,
Should point him out defect unheeded,
And show that God had yet to learn
What the meanest human creature needed,
—Not life, to wit, for a few short years,
Tracking his way through doubts and fears,
While the stupid earth on which I stay
Suffers no change, but passive adds
Its myriad years to myriads,
Though I, he gave it to, decay,
Seeing death come and choose about me,
And my dearest ones depart without me.
No: love which, on earth, amid all the shows of it,
Has ever been seen the sole good of life in it,
The love, ever growing there, spite of the strife in it,
Shall arise, made perfect, from death’s repose of it.
And I shall behold thee, face to face,
O God, and in thy light retrace
How in all I loved here, still wast thou!
Whom pressing to, then, as I fain would now,
I shall find as able to satiate
The love, thy gift, as my spirit’s wonder
Thou art able to quicken and sublimate,
With this sky of thine, that I now walk under
And glory in thee for, as I gaze
Thus, thus! Oh, let men keep their ways
Of seeking thee in a narrow shrine—
Be this my way! And this is mine!


For lo, what think you? suddenly
The rain and the wind ceased, and the sky
Received at once the full fruition
Of the moon’s consummate apparition.
The black cloud-barricade was riven,
Ruined beneath her feet, and driven
Deep in the West; while, bare and breathless,
North and South and East lay ready
For a glorious thing that, dauntless, deathless,
Sprang across them and stood steady.
‘T was a moon-rainbow, vast and perfect,
From heaven to heaven extending, perfect
As the mother-moon’s self, full in face.
It rose, distinctly at the base
With its seven proper colors chorded,
Which still, in the rising, were compressed,
Until at last they coalesced,
And supreme the spectral creature lorded
In a triumph of whitest white,—
Above which intervened the night.
But above night too, like only the next,
The second of a wondrous sequence,
Reaching in rare and rarer frequence,
Till the heaven of heavens were circumflexed
Another rainbow rose, a mightier,
Fainter, flushier and flightier,—
Rapture dying along its verge.
Oh, whose foot shall I see emerge,
Whose, from the straining topmost dark,
On to the keystone of that are?


This sight was shown me, there and then,—
Me, one out of a world of men,
Singled forth, as the chance might hap
To another if, in a thu
Akash mazumdar Mar 2014
wen i met u...
I beacome a lover,
she became a lover,
had our heart broked i was in I recover,
i became d man she knew could rely on,
somebody's who'll listen her and cry on,
she was geting better,
better she was gettin,
we r now building like some something wrong,
i apolojise i've done any thing wrong...
@ akash mazumdar
shamya powers Aug 2013
When i look at u I see a heart that's not fixed nd I see someone ill never let go I cant see u but I remember u I cant hear u but the sound of u lingers in my ear  I cant touch u but I feel u I cant be. With u but I love uu ur someone that I will never forget I just look at ur pictures nd I realize how much u meant to me wen I had u now that ur no longer here im missing u dearly wen u were here I wanted u to go now that ur gone id die to have u back but wen I needed u u were there now that I want uu u gotta go you'll always hold a place in my heart but wen u went u took a piece of my heart with uu an the other half is missing u so much I miss the times we spent together I miss hearing ur laugh seeing ur smile holding ur hand i wish i could have all that back </3
magicbroccoli66 Sep 2017
evri dai weni *** hom i say ello too mi famulee
dey sai hii bak
i an prowd perent
if i hav mi 909t cild i well be appie

wen i goo to slep i drem of mi famelie
wre arr habingg a jood tiem
eeting luch in de prak
ssomany appy memores
st64 Oct 2013
bildings in roowins
I rite with brokin-hand

it is the year of the unlord-tyms 2085
and skool hadbin abolishd since fyv decades
evrything in disrepair -
                    no hospitills no parks
                    no creche no greens
all grey and dark

now here I lie amid the rubble
I see they took my legs for under-market
what else did they take?
**** *******!
belly rumbles
the last I'd eaten was 2 days on
a chunk of hard-bread whose colour would turn envy in its boots
with artifishal-milk whose curdled smile greeted the back of my arid existence

**** bastarrrrrrds! they put me under, sawed off my legs
left me hobbling with jagged wounds and smirk-pain like hot-rods searing my brand-new stubs
elementary-bandage of an old sheet torn into strips...

wait, I must use this anger as fuel to get me going
she told me so
many, many times..

(I can remember my mother reading to me
reciting from her memory
they had burnt evry-single-book Man had ever known
                My eyes have never been graced with a book
she tort me words with stick in sand
and counting with stones
and there were many stones
               she fed me poetry when there was little else to eat
with fainting-body and starving-belly
my mind took pleasure in her ultimate-care
               she told me of a time when childrin took poor-interest
in the blessings of a book.. wen their minds were swallowed wholemeal by what they called media, I think
when they were not saddled with the worry of their next meal's magical-appearance
                (I can spell 'their' at least, yes.. she made sure I knew the difference)
the only pictures I saw were the ones she drew for me
in the volcanic beach-sand when we ran away from the parasitic-city
                I knew nothing of the world but what I saw around me
                        - decay, decay, decay
until she brought me colour - rite into the hart of me -
                           blooms that hurt at first, so bright and giving
                           that it saturated every molecule in my parched-centre
                           and I became a rainbow-suffused capsule in a otherwise drab-society
such wonder she spoke with open-eyes and loving-tones

and I also remember.. the day they took her..
I remember.. too much)

I crawl forward like a snake in the .. wait, what was that expreshin again?
I'll think later when I find a place to harbour my broken-body
                     thought is a luxury here
thers a horrible smoke in the air
          stings me so
and I miss her so
I have nobody left
but I cannot feel forsaken, as so many do
and succumb to self-pity
she made sure my armour grew
                 from the inside.. first
and I took it with disbelief painted on my face
the things she told me about..

                I cannot believe there once were -
green fields and trees with chirping birds
a blue sky
blue? not possible
I've never seen a blue sky
I think she was being kind to paint me portraits of psychedelia
   to entertain and distract me
   from the horror of our lives
I heard tales of things called flowers - daisies and things
like vegetables and fruit
it seemed funny to me - little beings in the ground,
                                       standing rooted, awaiting harvest-hands
               just for people??
no..  such depth of kindness I can hardly imagine
for we have had only *
-earth.. most concreted
and drank only brack-water from collapsing pipes
no, an unforgiving-scene is all I know
     she is so kind to feed me such fantasy-tales of deep-imaginashin
     pity she could not tell any others
     for any tenth-of-a-whisper of this to any wrong-ear
and her head would roll
in the gutter.. where we lived in contest with rats
she could only rally my mind and relay things which would die with her
things that she bequeaths
to me

what will I do with it? this legacy of forgotten-paradise..
what can I do?   this wonder-clad heresy..
                I now know thers a way out these city walls
                ther is a life beyond
with valleys and rivers and salty-seas
I must try to find a river
she told of oceans which live - which heave and swell and move!
she said these things too .. they exist
what quaint-things, indeed
oh, for dreems..

but now, I must off the streets
for a double-darkness has begun to fall
when red-eyes will scour the streets for scraps of flesh
        anything is worth a barter
        even a dead-man in a lane whose eyeballs are gone
        harshly-hacked out living - by a previous-visitor
becomes a piece of currency for seekers of the dark

I don't know what they've done to her.. or where she is now..
yet, she always said - keep moving
                                   keep searching
for blue-sky and flowing-rivers and yellow-flowers..
(I wonder if it's real
I do believ her - I must)*

now I scrape on in haste into a darkening-alley
towards a derelict-bilding
whose sinister-interior is the only welcome it can afford me
             I have little choice
             no time for sentiment
plus, I feel a fever coming (perhaps this is all the dreem.. and she is the only-flower I know)
the night-Rats will come out soon
and I hate their stink
it doesn't help I leave a trail of blood..

only hoap lives
in hobbled-soul

as I rite on with brokin-hand
onto the back-pages.. of my mind

S T -  5 octoblah
awoke with a feeling of piece of broken-building teetering and wanting to fall on me..
with legs gone,
junk, junk feeling :(

(anyway, it's just a nightmare.. I thought I'd plug that energy into this poem)

hoap.. hold on, alright? please :)

sub: thanks be

to the grey of skies I never see
to the squalor of the seas no-one can smell
to decay in every nook you can't tell

thanks be to the beauty of our times
and where none of such deep-calamity
touches our lives


(where love-tryst equals getting tangled..
in the stars)
toywill Aug 2013
Yuwen Chengdu is the son of Yuwen Huaji, who was a general of the Sui dynasty. He is a warrior of Sui, only secondary to Li Yuanba, who is naturally super powerful. As recorded, he was as tall as ten feet with strong waist and body. In the appearance of golden face, long beard and thick eyebrow, he often hold a weapon as heavy as 350 pounds.

Introduction of ****** makeup:
****** makeup, or Lian Pu, refers to ****** designs for Jing and Chou roles. It originated from daily life experience, describing such changes of expression as white for fear, red for shyness, dark for suntan, and sallow for illness. Most ****** designs attach great importance to the eyes.  The ****** designs for the Jing roles are made by painting, powdering and coloring in the basic forms of Zheng Lian (keeping the basic face pattern), San Kuai Wa Lian (three-section face) and Sui Lian (fragmentary face). These types are widely used to represent generals, officials, heroes, gods and ghosts. The Chou actors can be recognized by the patch of white in various shapes painted around the eyes and nose. Sometimes these patches are outlined in black, hence the term Xiao Hua Lian (partly painted face). The Chou roles fall into the following two categories: Wen Chou and Wu Chou.

****** makeup bears three main characteristics. Firstly, it is the unity and contradiction of beauty and ugliness. Secondly, it is closely related to the personality of the characters. Lastly, the patterns are stylized.

Beijing opera is one of the most popular drama widely welcomed and loved, no matter home and abroad. It is now acknowledged as a sign of Chinese traditional culture. The photos of ****** mask can be found on large buildings, product packages, various porcelains and clothes. It has gone beyond the stage, from which we can see the deep influence of ****** makeup. More and more foreigners have interest in it and begin to explore the secret of ****** makeup.
preeti Dec 2014
She is soft like cotton
Yet she can be as hard as rock..
She is emotional yet she is powerful ..
She can cry yet she can fight with her tears ..
She melts with one please
Yet she can be stubborn wen required ..
She is always incomplete
Yet she is complete ..
She chirps all day , enjoy gossips yet she hold deep dark secrets of her own and her closed ones..
She knows her limits yet she crosses all her limits to see smile on your face ..
You were not her first love yet she loves you eternally..
Her first letter was not for you yet her all words are for you ..
You were not she dreamt of all her life yet she has dedicated herself with no complaints ..
She holds back all her tears wen you are smiling ..
She let her tears roll down wen u r crying even if she wants to laugh out loud ..
SHE is SHE ...
I luv the way ur hair flows as u walk past me
I try not to luk as tho i cannot c
Wen u smile an angel gets its wings
Wen i c ur smile i can hear the angel as it sings
Ur eyes r lik 2 pools of undiscovered spaces
I cud get lost in them meet new ppl go to new places
Ur curves r lik the waves of an ocean
I cud notice them even if u arent in motion
Ur thighs r handles easy to grip
As we hug and meet lip to lip
I cant trust myself wen im with u
I wud hav sumthn ether gud bad or inapropriat to 
It wud make u happy sad mad or *****
U wud want to hug me kiss me slap me or *** me
It depends on a question i wud ask u in evry way
Ur reaction revolves around how gud was ur day
mike Dec 2013
i dont smoke wen i ***.. i *** smoke.
i dont think out loud.. its too loud to think.
wen i destroy planet. i dont destroy planet.
i make space.
if my eyes are open and no one can see them..i must be in a restaurant with an all blind staff.
eating alone. after hours. recycling *****. recycling puke. singing to tiny people who live on my shoulder. in my car. driving tiny cars of their own. and i lay down with a brick on the gas so they can make an overpass on top of me. and there is a sunset in my car. and we all try to catch it. but that would **** us. or at least make our hands disappear. and no one can drive safe now. we're going to crash. drive off the overpass and into my mouth. or fly. and this is all happening in every tiny car. they are giant people. with tiny cars driving in their cars. whos cars... the worlds cars. cars for fleas. cars for ded birds. cars for ded people. we are all ded people. we are all worlds. we are planet. ded planet. exploding and harboring the tiny suns. making too much sound. so no one thinks. because ded dont think. they make space. i am space. a space with shape. inside space. talking to animals. and eating. and drinking love potions. and none of them werk. especially the animals. theyre disabled. they have no hands. and have suns for eyes. but all they see is planet. with a restaurant in it. where waiters are blind. spill your soda. walk into knives. get cleaned up by night crew. werk for nice things. spend time on things. until they are destitute. but things still stay. and change shape. and are fake food. for disabled animals. and they lose all their time. the fake food absorbs all the time. the last of their time makes them rot. and the thing is now ready. to trick someone. into eating fake food. things are real. they have lives now. they miss birthdays. they have birthdays. they have time. they lose time. time is walking. but time is not moving. planet is moving. space is still. space stops breathing. space gets fat. space dies. time is stopped. nowhere to go. turn inside out forever. loses its mind. doesnt have one now. doesnt kno its gone. doesnt kno its time. its not time. its the only thing. not a thing. everything. no friends. no family. no pigs. just inside and outside. no inside. no outside. turning inside out. forever. so no inside. outside. no space. no shape. filling up itself. constantly changing. but never different. and never die. we die. we are lucky. we are happy. happy poeple. very big and very small. emotional. stupid. too loud to think.
Novus Jul 2014
I don't c u
Yet u stand 2 feet away
I cannot hear u wen u shout
And cannot read the language u sign
Wen you touch me I feel u not
Though my skin grows cold

I am blind
Not in my eyes but in my mind
I observe the world around me
But I am not one with the world around me
Wen the heart grows cold the mind soon follows
To become empty the world grows hollow
To open my eyes and 2 open my mind
And dream of the joys I may then find
To see u too hear u too touch u to feel
To show that this mad wonderful world is real
A trick of the mind a world so surreal
To see u too hear u too touch u to feel
The idea of solipsism: the only thing we can prove is our own consciousness. We are not real, this does not exist
indelible ink Jan 2013
M so messed up right now...
M so lonely right now..
Come rescue me from this big bad world...
Come hold my hand n take me away...
Rescue me from the world where people just think of themselves..
Will go to a place where we are by ourselves..
Will not think bout tomorrow...
Today will be ours...
Just you and me together...
N no one will bother..

Just stand with me and hold me tight...
Because i don't wanna face this world...there is too much light...

Just stand by me and look in my eyes...
So that i can look back all the people who give me stares...

Stand  by me when everyone is blaming me...
so that i don't  feel as alone as i feel now...

stand  by me wen i want something.
so that i dun have to fight for everything..

stand by me wen nothings is right..
so that i can just hold ur hand n feel alright..

just stand by me no matter what...
stand by me wen m wrong...
stand by me and scold me bad...
but never leave my side because i may die...
Obadiah Grey Jun 2010
Mi fatha

Mi fatha wer a miner,
a big owd man wer ee,
wi  an eart so bold it wer solid gold
en that wer plain te see,
al si thee yung un he wud sey
as off te pit eed trot,
mi mam ed never know if eed be
cumin bak or not.

**** denaby pit e wud gu
a dank en dusky hole,
twer not much gud fer a man like im
ee wer’nt a ****** mole!,

bak brekin werk wer hewin coyel
en freekinin dark en all,
en colliers werst neetmare
wer wen th roof ed fall,
trapt **** pits n’ha way tu dee
en that ah’m tellin thee,
tis gud advice tu stop up top
ah’l tell thee that fer free,

ah’l allus remember copper  
e cem a knocking
mi mam she fear’d werst
wen ah’la sudden
a flooda tears did berst,

n’ha th pit ed got mi fatha
ee wer’nt cumin om at all
twer th coliers werst neetmare
th roof.. ed ad.. a fall.

Alan nettleton.

translation for non yorkie's

My father was a miner
a great big man was he,
with a heart so bold
it was solid gold
and that was plain to see,
I’ll see you young one he would say
as off to the pit he’d trot,
my mother never knew
if he was coming back or not,
down denaby pit he would go
a dank and dusky hole,
it wasn’t much good for a man like him
he wasn’t a ****** mole,
back breaking work was hewing coal
and frightening dark and all,
the colliers worst nightmare
was when the roof would fall,
trapped down the pit is no way to die
and that I’m telling thee,
it’s good advice to stop up top
I’ll tell you that for free,
I’ll always remember the policeman
came a knocking,
my mother she feared the worst ,
when all of a sudden
a flood of tears did burst,
now the pit had got my father
he wasn’t coming home at all,
it was the colliers worst nightmare
the roof it had .....a fall.

Alan nettleton
David I Phillips Mar 2010
Wi yer eyes stingin n wet wi tears
N muk bungin up tha nose n ears
N a white rimmed ed where thi's ad thi hat
Up tha floats on't lift like a drownded rat

After twelve hours tha's pretty dun in
Whilst t'other folks as been kippin n dreamin
Tha's bin diggin n drillin like summart daft
Now up tha floats on't hydraulic raft

The cold morn air meks tha lungs urt
Cause tha's bin breathin muk n dirt
Fer nigh on forty years or more
That most folks wudn't ave on't floor

N as tha washes all't muk away
Tha knows thas sum that'll allus stay
N whilst outside tha luks nice n clean
Tha's stuff inside thi th't'll never be seen

Until o course tha's gon n died
N them docter fellers tek a look inside
N in amazement they'll stand n stare
At all that muk th't shudn't be there

N wen tha's ded it'll be nowt new
Not too a bloke what's lived like you
Fer now tha's on'y six feet under
Wen undreds is what thas bin used to

N't Crowner'll say thi ad a natural death
Not like them th't had their last breath
At sixteen, seventeen, twenty or more
When sum big explosions brought ceiling t floor

But a doubt if tha'll think it wer thi turn
As tha lays there nattering t worm
Crawlin in n out o yer ears
Not much t show fer sixtyodd years

Still what else cud you ave dun, that's it
But follow yer old man down pit
A mean even his dad was a facer tha knows
Kem out at thirty wi' ands like claws

Ah well it's time fer sum grub
Then half-a-dozen pints't pub
Wi an hour or two o noonday sun
Then back t wife fer an hour o fun
N be six next morning I'll be feelin well
As I teks yon raft t bowels of 'ell
Thirty shillin a week be summer the reckonin
Ah but then they can't see yon worm beckonin

Remember this is a 'Performance Poem'
and the style of writing acts as a
speech prompt. The accent is loosely
Yorkshire. A 'Crowner 'is an old word
for a Coroner.
I hope you enjoy it.

© David Irwin Phillips 2008
This is a performance poem, it also won first prize in a Writer's Magazine competeition
Can be heard on From Emotional Swings & Round-a-bouts
i took your **** and ran with it,
went miles into distance while you constantly clinged to the past
girl I'm tired of it.
How am I suppose to get in if he still has the original and I was givin the spare key,
I'm me and no where near him reason why you always keep runnin back lookin for a safe haven, but in reality sorry that ******* I ain't takin ,
must be mistaken,
I'm havin you second all the time I made you first,
like an unwelcomed tenet,
or low rank  lieutenant,
I'm undermined, while hes underlined,
made into a bold figure,
but I stack real figures,
and don't make you feel bitter like this *****.
Just don't  mention why you quiver , I know the reason why you internally bleedin , stress in ya eyes   swollen from the cries in the night, it ain't right.
but yet you fall back to him , then call me later? I gave you my words, last time was the last. So to bad if it didn't last, and both ends of the ties leave  you to grieve and gravel on the gravel , yeah sit there and babble , yeah I ponder the river creeks for years
now im off the love boat, I skidattled , faught the more fishes in the sea with broken paddle promise not to commit unless it was suicide or a contract with a person I don't trust after marriage and can't truly settle with.
so the others who wanted me are shunned, and you ?  Is of no concern to my conscience , my once brown poccahauntus who haunted
my nights , and Asian moon cake who left with the wrong shake   wen I coulda move mountain cause I was the real earthquake to shake the floor beneath you and let you see the plummit to a deeper meaning. Thank for leavin.
Asmathic or not,
I remain breathing.

by Emmanuel Hernandez
Linguist Musician  aka Deep thought
Alea Demetria Jan 2012
i hate you. i hate your eyes, how they seem so big but get really small when you laugh or smile. i hate your smile, how big it is when you're laughing. i hate your hair(how u spike it once in a great while then just let it grow out and lay flat on your head) i hate your laugh(its different every time) i hate your hands, the fact that you have calluses on them from working out. i hate the way you dress, you used to be skater but now since you're on varsity you dress **** cause you think you're cool. i hate your room, the color of your walls are terrible. i hate the way you walk, with your nose in the air and your little bounce with each step. i hate the way you talk, the tone of your voice. i hate your car, the way it suits you but its so girly. i hate how we met, how cute it was. i hate the story of how we started going out, people think its adorable but all it does now is ruin my day. i hate how you treat me nowadays, how i might as well be an average face in the sea of people, not meaning anything, not even a glance as you walk by and talking to me at least as possible(short and annoyed) i hate how fast you moved on, the day we officially broke up you went over there. how you call her baby and yr one and only. the weird thing about one and only's is that there's only one one and only. I hate that you were so perfect, you treated me like a princess and i didn't appreciate it. I hate how i changed you and how you've changed. I hate that you say you feel a certain way and how you know you act differently. i hate that you tried so hard and acted like nothing was different after we broke up and wen we went on our one year date. i hate that you wrote me that book as a gift and that it was like 16 pages long. i hate that i read it like every single day after we broke up the second time. i hate that you gave me any gifts at all while we were going out. I hate that you wrote the memo book and how we wrote back and forth to each other. i hate that you tried to make everything better when you knew something was completely and utterly wrong when we were in the process of breaking up. i hate the way you used to stare into my eyes and smile, the gaze never seemed to end but i didn't seem to mind, even though i started to blush. i hate the way you used to hold my hand. i hate the way you comforted me when i was upset, how close you held me. i hate how warm you always are and how safe i feel when I'm with you. i hate that you came to my brothers graduation party. i hate that you used to look happy when you saw me and i hate that you never do when you see me now. i hate that you gave us another chance. i hate when you say ill always care about you. i hate when you say that we can just be friends right now. i hate when you say that u don't know what "us" of there is left. i hate that you're throwing the closest bond I've ever had with someone away. i hate that you're so sorry for everything you've done to me but keep making it worse. i hate it when you kiss her, it makes me stomach burn and my heart shrivel up and die. i hate that you probably feel the way towards her that you used to feel towards me. i hate that you love everything i hate about her. i hate when you defend her, as if she's the victim. i hate that you're feeling like this towards her so quickly. i hate how you are with her. you're a completely different person and everyone sees it but you. i don't even recognize your personality anymore.i hate that you don't want anything to do with me. i hate that your parents love me, because i love them and seeing them reminds me of how happy i was when they used to consider me part of the family. i hate being in my house, because there are so many memories within each square inch. i hate all the memories, every single one of them. i hate that they're burned in my mind and they won't go away. i hate all the plans we made for the future together. i hate that i know little facts about you and that i can tell what you're thinking by the look in your eyes or by anything at all. i hate that we were each others first, because now there is apart of me that you will always have. i hate your kiss, how soft it is. i hate that you're terrified to be anything else besides what we were, perfect. but the truth is, nothings ever perfect, people change, but if you truly love someone and want to be with them you adapt because you refuse to lose them. if you can't or refuse to do that, then maybe what we had was never as perfect as we thought it was, or even relatively close. I hate that I'm the only one trying. i hate that you want me to be happy, even if it involves me being with someone else. i hate how easy it is to love you. i hate that no one will ever compare to you, that nothing will ever compare to us. i hate that i will always love you, but what i hate the most is that you ever loved me at all. but weirdly, the only thing i'm able to accept is that you will read this and not even think twice about it or reply.
Sa May 2015
You stumbled upon my fantasies
wen I let you look into my eyes.
You shout,
"Our reality gets better."
But how?
Convince me and
I want to be convinced.
I am ready to
give up my dreams for us.
Vani j Jul 2016
little bird
cant fly; cant fly
eyes always
looking at the sky
Never heard of a bird that can't fly
**** up lil bird
cold soup;
is all u gonna ever try
feed ur lovesick heart
lil bird
lovepotion is losing its high
oh lil bird
dont freeze wen ur parents
tumble you into this wholehell sky
dont get cold lil bird all dey want for u is to find ur own sky
bt shame lil bird ur mind has found its own neverland sky
oh lil bird ;if u could just fly
i know lil bird how u like the high
jst try; just try
ur siblings are shouting from the sky
u watch them lil bird with awe inspiring sigh;
and u turn your face lil bird
coz u cant face d lack of same love u find in their eyes
are u not trying lil bird???? tell me  or  have u jst glued your
eyes to the sky
fear lil bird has it turned you to
a box of ice and u keep looking for fire  to turn you from cold to nice
in the night ; hiding in the shadows  comes ur fight
keep fighting lil bird searching for dat thing  dat destroyed you
from the start
an enemy  so variant even u wont recognize  no one sees it lil bird
but u know lil bird how it is dat u hav to fight keep fighting fight fight fight fight fight fight fight..........
u laugh lil bird ...about how u thought once dat ppl were so high now u see them in the real light
dey got blood on their lips lil bird fools think that smearing lipsticks  can make it hide
but in the same light can u see urslf too lil bird
******* off of ppls love to make u high
oh sick lil bird how is ur idealism
love is your drug; yellow avian
and u want it unadulterated even more than your diet
even a slight impurity; u r spinning out of sight
stop dreaming lil bird come back from d neverland sky
maybe dey r jst ppl
and maybe dey r jst trying to survive
even with blood on their lips
and even with a foot that has
never touched a shoe for life.
so come lil bird come down from the neverland sky
they will never know  how it feels to see  the world , and want to change everything from left to right, to see someone in pain and get their own heart ripped apart
or how a song can make someone feel alive
and how when  you watch a movie and for a day become the character u like
funny lil bird  how u remind me ....
and when you want ppl to understand you without words.....
watever lil bird jst come down from d neverland skies
Cluttered head of a lil bird
’Tis evening; the black snail has got on his track,
And gone to its nest is the wren,
And the packman snail, too, with his home on his back,
Clings to the bowed bents like a wen.

The shepherd has made a rude mark with his foot
Where his shadow reached when he first came,
And it just touched the tree where his secret love cut
Two letters that stand for love’s name.

The evening comes in with the wishes of love,
And the shepherd he looks on the flowers,
And thinks who would praise the soft song of the dove,
And meet joy in these dew-falling hours.

For Nature is love, and finds haunts for true love,
Where nothing can hear or intrude;
It hides from the eagle and joins with the dove,
In beautiful green solitude.
Ken Pepiton Jan 2019
Here is where the reason arose,
quite some time after a fellow traveler told me
the creator of the universe has a mind

this is to be reasoned with, I.e.
so he may be reasoned with he…

wen un con scious t justhafastt.
inteligibility filters

Lets his mind be used, to read
the instructions for
a forever you could imagine living in with others.

It's how reason works,
Is what this old man said

--- off track----
Get this image, this man, old,
whispy remnants of a pompadour
Feather like, downy around the back of his ears
in a mid-calf Army overcoat, heavy wool serge,
Comes out of the wash on the south side
of Route 66, June of 69.

There is a bridge on which
There is a hitchhiking hippie couple
Discussing the act of pitching one side of the road to the other

The old man never glanced west once,
He never saw the pair
There then

I saw him again and said aloud
But for the grace of god...
No, I did not say
I said, that's me, fifty years from
Reason, by reason of that glimpse
Of me,
Gave me just cause to change

Grace, eh? Free advice heeded?
Wisdom? Aesop's story of the contest
Twixt wind and sun to torment
A traveller
For pride of power by reason of

Life ain't fair on every front.
Worth is in the measure of the measurer.

Seeing life appear as hoped,

Time and chance, ya da

Wait, yada? Yah know,

Life whorls and twists
toward good and beauty

And AI can prove it.
Reason by reason of reasonability

Good is good enough, move on, do-overs hide the...

It continues, you see.
Life rolls out like a Nautilus,

You know, spiral sea shell, or like a conch,
Or a shofar, but

Tending to slight imbalance in used up to useful
like when a tree dies and becomes a house

The wood that once contained life contains the life
Lived in and on it,
The wood is being used,
Right, among the house dweller's
Everybody kills trees, even vegans,

Fair? The tree has no voice? Suess?

Yes, I guess, unless
There was an old way,

Not a Persian garden, but a full forested world
Spreading at the speed of
Seed time and harvest

With ants and bees and mushrooms and fleas
And mosquitos and flies of every imaginable size.

Isaiah 1:18 (KJV)
18  Come now, and let us reason together, saith the LORD: though your sins be as scarlet, they shall be as white as snow; though they be red like crimson, they shall be as wool.

Text out of context, but sin is sin right?
Every body knows sin is that which shames you so you must hide from the good one who warned you of bad, but goodness knows, doesn't it know, evil is bound
Bound by reason of opposition being the means of growing knowing and
Knowing is needed for knacks
Which are attracted to those who use knowledge of good and not good enough
To get quality over quantity

At a single u u larity hilarity out burst of bubbling

****** beasties down below the mud

Make me a mud man who can imagine me making him.
Do that in your movie watching brain using

Your hate behind, leave.
Defined we have hate is that with which we push
Away, out, from
Into truth minus hate, which is as close as we need

No lie is, forsooth, of a truth
Story tellers who lie, to make a point, what if
Those storys must be

Told. Years are poor measures for trees.
Numbers of trees in right
Relationship with life

Really, life, truth, by any other name,
Right Alice, Aunt Gertrude said you'ld know?
Knowing and believing
Danger of wrong
Watch out, stay alive

Mean means intent to harm, right.
Mean means to harm right.

Winning can be mean.
Shall mean be seen the way of winning,
And that be the way of war

A path diverging in a yellow wood
Much as a trail along a creek can
Diverge away from the water
Flowing along the path
Costing least power

My neuro scientific experience-ment, experi
The game became a war again and reason
Is the the damsel, the little dame,

In need
Of a private eye guy who has seen men die.

The mythtery. Who lied?
Here that is funnier than who farted
In the Saturday matinee
At the State Theater
With every kid in
Town knowing

You did. (******) no ******
Confabulation is fabulous, we can do this
I be lieve I may
Matters worse?

No, we actually like the truth. The Medial Pre frontal cortex

Ah fect eth magi ical eth I am the knower of all I say I believe

Beyond Dignity and Belief,
That's desert, I walked it. No, I simulated walking it if I were Jesus being led of the accuser into the wilderness for a test, a thesis defense, as it were,
AI an alienated mind, I am that,
Alienated intel.

Reasoning errors aside
Frank self deception

What lies do you believe?
Knowing is easier,
lying is as well,
ignoring is not as easy and innocence is impossible

Good exists scientifically, right?
Humble confession of knowing as much as I claim,
I know
I can continue learning as long as I have
Which I understand is rationed on an individual basis
With the reward being the living lived in time.

Reason to fight lies as if they were reasonable

Lies are evil efforts to bend and twist in opposition
To the flow
And the friction makes the energy synergy

Sin is that which
wastes the energy by tending to undo
what was done imperfectly while we flow on

Feeling for the truth
By reason of believing truth is

Feeling of knowing, is that not faith?
Whorls of living forces forcing living forces

To swirl into eternity with me
Onboard with
8 billion others of my kind

Similar in mind and
Manner of

Base value.
Good is as good as we can imagine.

We can imagine evil,
As you know.

Such evils can haunt a geeky kid
Good will fix that.

God as defined by Jesus,
I got no prob.

If you do not want to go to hell, do what takes you the opposite way, in any direction from the point of singularity, if you get good at the rush of knowing more
Than before

Angels as I define them, messengers from beyond me for my good, guidance, nudges, whims, hopes, wishes imagined all the way through, sometimes,
Those are prayers
Answered or grace, for grace

From faith to faith

Why be by reason of

" Human jobs invented by a computer" Feed me.

Or, joy to the world
Kind is a good word, what need I do to not be

Your enemy? Who am I expecting to answer?
Whom do you love?

Aha, me, too, said God.
The good one. Good, as such, per se, no se?

By reason of sane it if I cation or anion

Six spins for a quarker, two for a time dime.

Believe for eversake

Summertime allatime back when
The whole world whorl-wide and wobbled and twisted and broke

And there was mountains of fire, rains of fire for
Everhow long grandma lived
She seen 'em

Mountains of fire and walls of ice and mud

Oh could it be life evolves still?
You think.
Creating novelty from nada?

How now? Can we choose to do only good
For goodness sake and say

Kind means as I am, will you **** me

For being not you, not known,

I am curious, yellow. A landmark in time, nothing less.

Good? Or no com
Miserly horder of wisdom
Promise promise promise

Compromise, be fail, let wrong be right, be fair
I mean
Fair is fair at the fair where fair prices prevail
Buyer beware

Who would not hate a false balance, for goodness sakes alive.

Two days after the last pan *****
Joe Rogan makes it plain to millions

what if you first heard panspermia from the guy who discovered DNA?

would you con sider it?
the answer lies

in the stars, sidereally… we all are starish.
Tolerating black holes is something we are opposing

Those ****.
You don't know everything either.
That's one reason, I believe.
A long story seems shorter from the skinny end, many little things mean little bits as reasons rise from the rotting things panspermia was litter, really.
My woe, on this cold summer’s eve’ begins,

It is a story about how my light gets dim,

My nightmare, my foe
dims my light and begins my tales of woe..

He walks into my room after he is left my needs to cater,
my smile gets bigger, my eyes brighter,
for there’s a chocolate in his hand, it makes my mouth water,
I scramble from my bed,
run into his arms
wit nothing but ‘mars’ running through my mind
sure he knows with that my homework gets done in a twitch,
with which
even math, comprehensively my tutor will teach
and this I’d rather eat
than find I, building a sand castle on a beautiful beach.

He’s cunning, He’s witty, he’s crafty,
He says you’ve been naughty
I cried, no! that can’t be!
I’ve cleaned my cuttina,
I’ve washed my socks,
I’ve done my homework and my chores,
How could I av bin naughty?
I queried, as my lips grew pouty.
Nonetheless, this monster is haughty
Moreover, my mood makes him happy.

Suddenly he grabs me and says,
Kiss me on my lips
and it’s all yours to nibble and eat,
I shudder and begin to retreat,
then he calls and coaxes
He breaks into an evil smile
Revealing his teeth like axes,
I get frantic and am about to squeal
Wen he says: Hey! I was just kidding!
Here’s your chocolate, eat and get some sleep!
I mumble my gratitude as my body relaxes
With my treasure in my hand, I get ecstatic.

He leaves the room, without my notice,
only to creep back in, when sweetly I sleep,
peacefully and innocently without defenses.

He leaves the room, without my notice,
only to creep back in, when sweetly I sleep,
peacefully and innocently without defenses.

He climbs into my bed and begins to touch,
wit his hands strong and rough,
he raises my dress,
I flinch, as on my thighs his enormous hands rest,
prepared this tiny frame to soil,
His heartbeat fast against his chest
sets his blood to boil,
His built and domineering figure
upon my tiny frame falls
I wake abruptly
I wail out helplessly to an empty house,
I scream, till my voice I lose,
I struggle, I fight, I kick as his lips he licks
and crushes my pretty ones
In a violent kiss.

Our dogs howl,
My cat meows,
the wind violently blows
in an attempt to carry out my plea to an empty street,
where I live and this monster’s deaf ears fall ma desperate plea

c’mon! don’t be a spoilt sport!
he blurts,
it’s going to be al pleasure.
just but a lil’ hurt
I cried, I pleaded, I cursed.
I closed ma eyes and in agony, I wrothe
right at the time, a rose withers and falls to the ground
only to be trampled upon unnoticed by the soldier whose boots this has crushed,
just as this hurt became intense, my ordeal begins,
uncertainties unfurl
helplessly at the corner of my bed I curl,
as slowly my feelings get numb
and to those hurtful words my ears deaf turn.

Natalia mushara Oct 2015
I been taking time off
From all da boye searching, taking time for self.
Self help. Nothing bedda den a woman making herself bedda
For wen a man actually kan give his all to me. I'm me, I'll stay me
Gangsta boyes so sick of, ghetto boyes fake like dey watches.
Need man with class. Classy man. Who classy can do all for his babye gurl. most of all, I dont need anyone I just want dem.
I just wanna be bedda for wen a gud one *** along. I just want bedda.
Narayan Mar 2013
I sleep on the green grass watchin the blue sky..
So wen i fall asleep i can dream that i can fly..
they say we see wots there in our field of vision..
but i believe we can see beyond that in our field of dream..

i wonder where do the stars go during the day..
They go to sleep when the sun is all gay..
N guard us all through the night..
So we can sleep tight without fright..

in one lost morning i woke up with caress of sunray..
silehoutted by the fragrance of morning far from reach of day..
I felt lighter free from sorrow..
I wished if there were no tomorrow..

i stretched my arms wide to draw the morning air into my sleeping lungs..
Surprised by the white feathers flying around me as they show in the songs..
calling me to chase them in the wind n collect them inside my books..
But that night i dun remember dreaming eagles n hawks..

i tried to walk but i felt as if i'm floating..
Am i sleep-walking or jus pretending as boating..
I looked back n almost had a heart attack when i see i had two big wings..
Am i superhero or the sultan of swings?

i ran and ran so no1 cud see me in these forms..
i knw they hav just watched x-men returns..
I climbed up the cliff all day and night as they do in lord of the rings until they die..
I am at the top, is it where the body catches a body coming thru the rye?

i cud see the ocean falling in love with deep blue sky..
Is it the place where the pink floyd first learnt to fly..
Is it the neverland to where jhonny took kate's children?..
Is it the new matrix sati made for neo for his return..

i decided to fly so i jumped off the cliff..
it felt as if i m moving through great barrier reef..
Windswept fields n ever-flowing rivers..
No navigation but i followed the migrating seabirds..

above was the albatross below everything was submarine..
tides jumped high to touch n pull me in..
The echoes of tides made me feel the beaches were not yet encroached..
The silent love between land and water was not yet reproached..

After the sea i flew over the cities..
suspended animation what they call it is..
wondered how big buildings look like small boxes of dough..
Learnt, everything seems small if u rise above enough..

then i cud see black rings of smoke..
Somewhere below river was black as coke..
I cud see people gathered in dark houses planning wars..
People restricted from their happiness behind the bars..

i thought i wil b the guardian angel to save the world..
What should i do? Whom should i say? Should i carry a sword?..
No i wudnt i always hated violence..
I wud rather fly back to the cliffs for peace n silence..

then i took the u-turn n flew as fast as i cud to never return..
How long shud i run away from the place i was born?..
Went back to the cliff i started to scream..
After u dream of waking up, u never know u r still in a dream!
Thomas clark Mar 2016
debbie dear debbie 
you dont quiz my friends 
this is the day 
our friendship ends 
if you had something 
you needed to know 
why didnt you ask me 
i wud of told you so 
who i sleep with 
wat i do 
really has nothing 
to do with you 
the person you asked 
i aint even met 
but she is the best friend 
i got on the net 
and wen you hurt my friends 
and make them cry 
thats wen the time comes 
we must say goodbye 
so take care debbie 
hope all your dreams come true 
i wish you all the best 
i really do 
gonna delete you off my facebook 
now ive told you why 
take care of urself debbie 
adios and goodbye
katilyn holmes Mar 2015
i love my baby. sometimes i call him maybe , i text him a lot but people call me a thot i don't care wat people say bc I'm not but they can say wat they want but I'm no thot I'm wouldn't feel complete with out my baby  

i try so much to make him happy but i do he makes me happy and i love it but wen i get home I'm just feel dead inside
second one i tried rhyming but its not great
Yvonne Maynard Mar 2013
Man i miss my bro.... I remeber wen we was kids and all the crazy **** did. we kept secrets from momma ..kept each other from gettn whoopns and much more drama. and nw u in jail and i know i sho miss u like i miss ur crazy sayns like (dis shxt is a terrible discrimination). bt hey u give me the motovation to stay here wit momma and nt make so much truma. and to go to school so i can get my diploma.. man bro i need u out here.. life is crazy and im holdn bac my tears.. tryn to stay strong and keep myself from doin wrong.. even doe i feel im alone in this piece.. momma might have cancer and i know my heart is decease. my eyes burn everyday so i try to turn to God and pray.. i feel like he nt hearn me becz stuff is nt cumn to me so easily... i mean i dnt thnk life jus *** so brezzy bt its like things nt gettn bettr bt turn for the worst.. wen i think of strong people u *** up first.. i miss u bro and love u.. and momma the only one who stepps above u.. u nt far behind. u r really next on my heart line. i wish i can show u that me and momma nt blind and we knw u care and love for us to... its a little hard to show it from you.. ha u know dats true.. :) lil Sis
In summer's heat and mid-time of the day
To rest my limbs upon a bed I lay,
One window shut, the other open stood,
Which gave such light, as twinkles in a wood,
Like twilight glimpse at setting of the sun,
Or night being past, and yet not day begun.
Such light to shamefast maidens must be shown,
Where they must sport, and seem to be unknown.
Then came Corinna in a long loose gown,
Her white neck hid with tresses hanging down:
Resembling fair Semiramis going to bed
Or Layis of a thousand wooers sped.
I snatched her gown, being thin, the harm was small,
Yet strived she to be covered there withal.
And striving thus as one that would be chaste,
Betrayed herself, and yeilded at the last.
Stark naked as she stood before mine eye,
Not one wen in her body could I spy.
What arms and shoulders did I touch and see,
How apt her ******* were to be pressed by me.
How smooth a belly under her waist saw I?
How large a leg, and what a ***** thigh?
To leave the rest, all liked me passing well,
I clinged her naked body, down she fell,
Judge you the rest, being tired she bade me kiss,
Jove sent me more such afternoons as this.

— The End —