"worldliness" poems
You only live once
Is that not obvious enough that we needed to turn it into a catch phrase
We all have one life to live so why dissipate it living out someone else’s dream
Live out your dreams and not theirs
Every second we get closer and closer to death
It’s a very short time
So make every second worth it
Make life unforgettable
Be rememberable
Some people think after all you only live once you have to go out and do berserk ****
Skydive, bungee jump, eat a five pound 1,000+ cal burger
There is nothing wrong with going out and doing berserk things
But life is short and don’t you want to live long enough to see another day?
Every second we get closer and closer to death
It’s a very short life to live
So make every second worth it
Make life unforgettable
Be rememberable
We all want to live life to the fullest
But don’t you want to grow old with the person you love?
Watch your {great}grandchildren grow before your eyes?
You will never get there if you live your life in the most audacious and “cool” way
Go get a tattoo, one that you may or may not regret later
Go vacation somewhere where you can really experience the worldliness of the culture
Go vegan or do something life changing
Every second we get closer and closer to death
It’s a very short time
So make every second worth it
Make life unforgettable
Be rememberable
YOLO you only live once
And we all know that so start a bucket list, at a young age
Put things on it that make you aggrandize your comfort zone
And things that help you realize who you truly are
Don’t forget to take care of yourself otherwise you will not live long enough to complete it
Every second we get closer and closer to death
It’s a very short life to live
So make every second worth it
Make life unforgettable
Be rememberable
Yolo
One life to live
One chance to make it
One chance to leave your mark
Aug 2, 2013
Aug 2, 2013 at 2:56 PM UTC
His kalenjin tribesmen planned for tribal wars to cleanse kikuyus and luhyias
From the their lands, planned out of tribal sadism,
He was fully aware, as he understood the kalenjin coded language of war
And preparation for war, war of the years 2007 and 2008,
He did not give any holy bishopric **** to save his non indigenous folks
The people to be killed and tribally cleansed were the members
Of his catholic church in the dioceses of Eldoret,
The ones to **** were his kalenjin tribesmen,
But bishop korir could not counsel nor forewarn,
He did not give out any peace focused advice
That a catholic should not **** a catholic
Because of politics or worldliness,
Instead he gave respect to his tribal sentimentality
He behaved as a kalenjin first then a catholic later,
A spiritual paradox of the century,
Only equated in the Biafra tribal sentimentality between igbos and yorubas
Redolent of European ****** or the American ku Klux ****
But after all the non kalenjin Catholics from his dioceses
Had been killed, burned up in the church, ***** up
Homoerotically perhaps in the madness of tribal scorn,
That they now became refugees in their own country; Kenya
And then solemnly condemned to the refugee camps,
Is when Bishop korir Cornelius came out of his tribal kernel
With vices of a kipskiss sadist , holy rosary in his hand,
Singing an out dated poem of Hail Mary the ******
Mother of Jesus Christ to them, the IDPS,
He then promoted a priest from his tribe,
The one kimengich up the hegemonic altar to become
The bishop of Lodwar from where they loot
The illiterate turkana catholic peasants their relief foods,
And even jobs, and clothes, only to give to those who are not needy,
To the kalenjin who are not even catholic nor marginalized, some even Moslem,
All these happens in the sweetness of tribal syndrome,
A social disease which the holy sacrament of the catholic faith
Have not and never will heal Bishop Cornelius korir.
May 24, 2014
May 24, 2014 at 9:28 AM UTC
She had black hair
Seductively tinged with red
I would never see her
Again-
If she just spoke to me
Alone I could tell
her everything- and in her
Obvious worldliness- I would
Have her in pity- I would be happy
For a while
Sep 12, 2010
Sep 12, 2010 at 4:57 PM UTC
moonrock, lovelight;
dim, silent, mindbreath-
interleaving sunspace;
dark, narrow, corridor of doubt--
far below this moment lurks
an otherwisely ancient growing sense:
of worldliness i haven't asked again
(yet you are this world-to-be);
the smile-harvest nearing,
your touch reasserts its ever-meaning
of dancing in the starlight i ask
my yearning future self,
of playful rolls of joy
spinning off our lichen finger tracings~
of healthiness and utter-smooth response
to sharpness i think with full bodied thought--
(it throbs deep into the wellspring of our self-teaching);
of healing i ask with songs beneath the feet,
toes vibrate dream-colored peace
like the windblown comfort of forestal goddess tresses,
i fall upward into you even as we descend through shadowovercastings,
even while the earth-tremble breaks our calm,
even though the bees fade,
another nectar drips from all around
your inner-golden, flowered canopy of lives
(i effulge this world-to-be you are!)
Jul 15, 2012
Jul 15, 2012 at 4:43 PM UTC
Welkins so melancholy, welkin so gray,
How mine isolation dost mock me; for
Only the lonesome make sharu fotay.
Bedchamber so hushed, bedchamber of many tears; how I feel thy ivory paint,
How I feel thy pain here.
Hallway so narrow, hallway that breathes, O' hallway, O' hallway, listen when I sing.
Grab mine hand, O' hallway of mine abode,
Mine feet do walk quietly, on thy carpet; thy soul.
Spirit O' spirit, how heavied thou art, soon shalt thou depart; for the world is to much.
Mine skin yearns for kisses, mine fingers for touch, O' many hath wishes, guess I ask for to much.
Mine hair screams loudly, to be caressed, ruffled. How gray art the welkins; when a poet's love is muffled.
Mine hand tis weak, from not having ones grip, mine lips chapped; no wetness
Nor mist.
Mine dance is off, with none holding of hips, mine glance is off; eyes pained
By watching worldliness.
Mine old worn out ninety-sixties Beatles boots art worn, tired they mourn; they've
Walked many miles; on trails I've turned.
They've walked through streets, where dope addicts fiend, I've been that pusher, that user in scenes.
I've dreamt, I've dreamed, hath had many emotions; with mother and dad, I've smoked and mind opened.
Mine hope in God strong, unearthly, outspoken; I'm here on thy globe,
To bring hope to the hopeless.
Mine garb is bygone, outstandish, I'm Irish, Scottish, two types of native American Indian blood; Chickasaw-Choctaw,
From mother's generational flood.
A Greek man's inside me, one of biblical times, with french royalty, even Charlemagne, is connected to
Family of mine.
As well french power, and kings and queens, emperor's, empresses in mine relations; who ruled Rome with
Maximus, and around
Constantine.
With pilgrim cruor from England, that came here on ships; on the Mayflower they traveled, to this place of new bliss.
Even tis I am Swiss, these art mine bloodlines, O' how mine souls old,
A gold refined.
This is me O' Lord, thy lonesome son,
O' this is me God, thy writer
Of love.
Welkins so melancholy, welkin so gray,
How much longer O' loneliness; til
Thou shalt go away.
Tonight, O' tonight, shalt be silence once again;
Thus the dream of being held, is just
A thought with none end.
© Brandon nagley
© Lonesome poets poetry
Mar 26, 2017
Mar 26, 2017 at 8:41 PM UTC
Everything here
glows with
meaning, history,
allegory, antiquity,
and
worldliness.
Jet lag keeps
me windows
95. a sleep,
upgrade to
XP or higher
so the world
won't have to
pause & buffer.
Mar 20, 2013
Mar 20, 2013 at 4:31 PM UTC
Jesus was a Carpenter
Enthroned without a coup d'état
Never drove a Cadillac
He lived, as it were, in lack!
With so little, He was contented
Though He was frequently tempted
All the worldliness of the world
He always overcame with the Word!
King of kings and Lord of lords
He redeemed us from the laws
By His pure and cleansing blood
He has saved us from the flood!
His steps in life should be our course
Each bearing his and her own cross
Our hands and voices we must raise
To worship Him and give Him praise!
© Raphael Uzor
Mar 26, 2014
Mar 26, 2014 at 9:45 AM UTC
There is a strange quality
That infects beautiful people.
Marilyn Monroe is a perfect example-
It is the quality of other-worldliness,
Convincing us
That this idol transcends the mundane
And become something holy,
Untouchable
Wholly untouchable,
Their beauty circling us,
Dreamily,
Slowly.
Tom,
Despite being the most beautiful
Creature most people have ever clapped eyes on,
Does not possess this quality.
In fact,
It is the absence of it
That makes his beauty
All the more unreal.
He is so lodged into the fabric of
Existence that even the colour of his eyes
(Which have been compared to the sky so many times
It has ceased to be a cliché)
Do not look like the sky,
They are the sky,
His pupil a black sun
Stuck in the way.
His furious storm of hair is the
Golden brown of fine malt whiskey,
You can get drunk on every strand,
And you can chart the seas
From the white half-moons
On the fingernails of his hands.
(He flutters behind the bar like a drunken hummingbird,
The gold paint on his face
Turning him into an off-duty statue from Covent Garden.
He turns to address the crowd of customers.)
*“Right – roll up, roll up –
Come see the Brick Lane-ologists favourite mixologist,
I’m a cocktail maker and occasional drug taker,
I can do things with gin that’ll make your head spin…”*
He begins to juggle with three glass bottles,
“I’m your loyal bartender and I take any legal tender…”
he sets the bottles on the bar top with a grin,
“And I’m at your pleasure…for just two quid a measure.”
Sep 4, 2013
Sep 4, 2013 at 10:33 AM UTC
Not all leaves move with the wind.
Maybe because the others are too trampled on to move, too ground into the earth. Or maybe they're too stubborn and cling to the pile afraid to fly. But some let go.
They get picked up and carried and see more of the world. Loneliest. Loneliness is the price of worldliness. Ironic isn't it? The more you see the less time you have to connect and stay connected.
I'd still rather fly. So next breeze I feel I'm going to lean back, open up to opportunity and let myself be carried away.
Feb 12, 2015
Feb 12, 2015 at 1:31 AM UTC
It matters not the hours,
The quick five minute showers,
to rinse and wash the sweat away,
from the workout or just the day,
rinse the dust of worldliness,
to finally rest in peacfulness,
let quiet be your hepa filter,
bring you away from off kilter,
body breathing, absorbing calm,
healing those weary bones with balm,
yup
a time balm,
my pillow, my friend,
my head is full of poisoned thoughts,
wrong bill of goods the I cheaply bought,
I need a time balm,
if when it goes off silently,
and there is nothig left of me,
the self that came through the door,
at the end of the work, plusiers choses,
tying my smile back to a grimace,
clothing fused to my skin,
I have become the job,
help me step away for my job is in trouble,
it tried to rob me of my soul,
my pillow, my friend, add a bubble,
push the button, light the fuse,
for it is noisy in my head and refuses
to go quietly and seriously
I need the relief, not grief,
of the time balm.
©DWE012014
Jan 14, 2014
Jan 14, 2014 at 12:51 AM UTC
WILL THIS HUNGER EVER SUBSIDE?
I don't believe I want it to..
I paint my insides and drown them in ink
Leave them at your door to be smeared on your walls with the hope I have create something you cannot forget.
Something that will craze you in manic love once again.
I like it.
The ache so strong in the depths of my core
Eating away at the lining of my being until there is nothing more.
ARE YOU NOT STARVING?
Indifference is a mechanism of defense
Stowing away only the most intense.
I will play pretend I am whole and free until I actualize it to myself that I am indeed
And I will hate you for making me believe to feel as such, it was you I did need.
WE SHOULD NEVER HAVE LISTENED TO NERUDA!
Tied hearts in the dark get tangled and the knots end up in your stomach
The independence of the sun will make you sick as you realize your worldliness.
Together we are heaven
And therefore I must believe we made an illusion.
Reality brings about things we believe we could have only imagined.
I adore the desire of you.
Only the dreams are screaming it is beyond merely you that I desire so lavishly.
And you are just as those allusive dreams I feel the importance of but cannot quite recall so am endlessly trying to figure
(like the word that escapes you when it is the only and perfect one to translate what is in mind)
We could give each other all our love
A piece of overly buttered bread is what we would end up.
Too rich. Too filling. Too much.
Though some would argue there isn't such a
thing.
I AM DISCONTENTED WITH NOT UNDERSTANDING THE MEANING
Sensed as abruptly as the scent of humid bodies and patchouli
I cannot believe you to be but a distraction God threw at me to see if I could deflect that which might hold me from some spiritual duty.
But if so, I'll cut myself loose.
I'll think of you as the pond I once rested against in my travels as a wild goose.
Filled myself with the life that surrounds you an flourishes beneath your surface.
I'll trust I will come upon your easy waters
Or some as tranquil when my wings need rest to further soar.
I always knew you were a challenge to overcome.
And I thought the challenge was to be with you as your greatest lover
When I just got the idea..
Maybe the challenge to overcome is being in love with you at all in this time of mine so ripe
Feb 11, 2013
Feb 11, 2013 at 7:46 PM UTC
The journey of memory mealtime lane.
First stop, let’s get it over.
The painful place of supper time tension.
Watching the clock, start the race
To produce the evening prize.
Another plate – protein, vege,
A third of carbs is wise.
Table laid, stage is set,
But there’s a stomach-churning silence,
I’m staring at the wooden spoon.
His sallow face swallows and the
Fork shuffles, napkin placed on the pile.
His footsteps leave, we try to ignore
The deserted plate - talk and smile
Come on now, memory mealtime store
Fill me a tasty smell –
Grandmas’s larder – whole room devoted!
Crinkled brown paper nesting
Squares of brownies, gingerbread.
Eyes behold, like moons of light
Boubon biscuits, french sponge fingers.
Other worldliness, such a sight!
Now take me back to nice school dinners,
Waiting down the hall, up the playground steps.
Will treacle cake all have gone,
Just leaving rice and prunes?
Dreadful cold white mash potato scoops
Neatly spread apart.
My favourite - dark chocolate sponge
And jam pink marshmallow ****
Join me to sitting round
My family kitchen table,
‘Best bit is the skin,’ Dad and me agree.
He approves as I eat
My little sister’s potato jacket.
I’m good and there’s plenty
And we’re all feeling full.
Every plate eaten clean, completely empty.
I remember secretly sneaking
Opening tins and picking out pieces
Of chocolate from choc chip cookies.
By the window, our Kenwood soda stream,
It’s bottles like shop bought fizzy pop!
And Dad’s homemade wholemeal loaf
Unlike any bread from the shop.
My Sixth form packed lunch –
Two Ryvita sandwiches with a kipling cake,
A calorie counting diet
Eaten by morning break
Whilst writing the stove is forgotten
And now the smell of overcooked stew -
Burnt pan supper – a frequent memory.
I think I can save it, definitely cooked through.
Arriving at the end of mealtime lane,
A message to hang in the kitchen high above
Something I’ve learnt to remember,
That the food in our lives must be all about love.
May 23, 2021
May 23, 2021 at 5:09 PM UTC
I am lost in the loose ended threads which make my life;
they weld me down along glistening metal lanes
with screws and nuts and bolts once in a while ,
rather carelessly with a callow scraping grip,
perhaps it's a young apprentice
inexperienced in dealing with insubordination
to fix me in my place.
sometimes these threads look like faceless feelings,
pre-emptive if you will,
sometimes they look like ununderstandings by me or others
sometimes they look like despots called people
sometimes they look like elevators built around caves of people
shedding tears and hides.
So yes ,sometimes the metal feels like the deep cold of the sea.
powdered with nuts and bolts forgotten in the hazy blue saline,
but probing my shaky heart and my remoulding mind like frosty bullets.
Overrun with senseless weeds from inside,
and grim from ruins of lost ships
and here and there with inviting treasures
worthwhile, anew
in the cascades of worldliness of all things beautiful.
sometimes the metal feels like the lullaby of the sea
sedating almost,
amidst the wilderness of conflicts ,jarring bronze contradictions
and of course, the ever so ubiquitous, soupy shallow free floating worldly wise grime.
while other times oy romantics,
it feels like a fish net topping me from reaching out
to places and peoples and experiences of this world.
Oct 20, 2014
Oct 20, 2014 at 8:37 PM UTC
I watch from afar as we rut on the bed
Your breath laboured as you reach your inevitable ******
You ****** deeper and my angel cannot fly
Pinned down as it were by the tired worldliness of it all
Jan 23, 2012
Jan 23, 2012 at 4:27 AM UTC
I can't rightfully
Comment on the color of your eyes,
The swiftness of your thought
Without remarking
On the innocence flowing in your veins
And the worldliness
That's only been present
In drifter gods before you.
Dec 15, 2014
Dec 15, 2014 at 1:28 AM UTC
Is He a Mystery? If not, is He a History?
Can we read about Him in philosophies?
Is He found in mythologies?
Can know ledge of the world unravel His Presence?
Do idols speak of His Omniscience?
Can the images of Him depict His Glory?
Is he caged ‘midst of bricks and cement?
Is He one among the gods of the heathens?
Did He come to the world to establish religion?
Who is He and where was He that the world rejects Him?
Is He a mere human being as the world registers in its mind?
Is He the ONE WAY to ETERNITY of LIFE?
What makes the world deny Him in its heart?
Is He the manifestation of the Invisible God?
Is He the ONLY GOD that the world needs?
What is in His Name that the Power indwells?
Numerous questions revolved around the world’s mind;
So what that its mind hath fallen into the pit of money?
Day and night one never forget to become quizzical of His Presence,
Volumes of His Mystery wake the world up with questions of dissertations,.
Jesus Christ has always been from Eternity to Eternity,
The Name predestined by God Himself.
Faith in every one plays a vital role to believe HIM,
And the Word of God in the Bible reveals HIM.
If anyone lacks faith in Him and His Word,
Then who can save him/her from eternal Fire?
Jesus Christ is the Image of God revealed to mankind,
He was a mystery revealed in History established,
Philosophies do not teach Jesus Christ,
There is no place for Him in mythologies,
Mere knowledge cannot reveal Him to mankind,
Idols don’t think, don’t speak; don’t act,
Man’s corruptible images cannot speak of Eternal Glory,
Bricks and cement are man-made and are destructive,
Heathen’s gods and goddesses are mortal’s imagination,
Jesus Christ is THE WAY, THE TRUTH, and THE LIFE,
No one can come to the Father except by Him,
Jesus Christ’s Way is not a religion, but the ONLY WAY to Eternity,
Jesus Christ is the Lord of Glory and has been always from Eternity to Eternity,
He (the Creator in Spirit) came into the world like a human being to save mankind from sins,
Jesus Christ is THE WAY, THE TRUTH, and THE LIFE,
No one can come to the Father except by Him,
Evil desire, pride, satanic devices, worldliness make the world deny Him,
Jesus Christ is the Image of God revealed to mankind,
There is no other God except Jesus Christ to save mankind from sins,
No other Name has been given to the world except Jesus Christ to save mankind,
And that is the Power of Salvation.
Shall we humble ourselves to the Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ
And become the child of God for ever in His Glory in Heaven?
He is waiting for you!
Jan 16, 2012
Jan 16, 2012 at 10:56 AM UTC
Sleep
Creeps
Into my eyes
Lies
Fly
Around me
Carnage
and Disorder
Worldliness
Godliness
Gone without a trace
Dreaming silently
Sweetly
Only of your face
And I scream
Apr 12, 2011
Apr 12, 2011 at 1:53 AM UTC
God said: There shall be light,
Immediately light shone across His creation.
I was made to enter the world of darkness,
The world hath become the den of sins,
And every man born of God hath fallen into Adam’s pit.
The Saviour took the form of submissiveness:
The Light pierced the darkness and showed the Way.
And darkness trembled at the advent of the Light.
I was at the heels of worldliness and tradition.
But on a day a voice stirred my soul to act,
The Light chased me to the door of Eternity.
I could not escape from the Light,
For HE hath HIS Plan to withdraw me from darkness.
I opened the eyes of my soul and saw the Light close to me.
Darkness began to shed its attires and Light hath clothed me with Its glory.
Darkness ceases not to threaten me with its curses of pleasure;
Yet there shines the Light ever to guard my soul from the eternal darkness.
What can darkness do unto me if Light is beside my soul
Which rests in the Loving arms of the Word of God,
WHO is the LIGHT of salvation into Eternity?
Dec 20, 2011
Dec 20, 2011 at 11:24 AM UTC
God said: There shall be light,
Immediately light shone across His creation.
I was made to enter the world of darkness,
The world hath become the den of sins,
And every man born of God hath fallen into Adam’s pit.
The Saviour took the form of submissiveness:
The Light pierced the darkness and showed the Way.
And darkness trembled at the advent of the Light.
I was at the heels of worldliness and tradition.
But on a day a voice stirred my soul to act,
The Light chased me to the door of Eternity.
I could not escape from the Light,
For HE hath HIS Plan to withdraw me from darkness.
I opened the eyes of my soul and saw the Light close to me.
Darkness began to shed its attires and Light hath clothed me with Its glory.
Darkness ceases not to threaten me with its curses of pleasure;
Yet there shines the Light ever to guard my soul from the eternal darkness.
What can darkness do unto me if Light is beside my soul
Which rests in the Loving arms of the Word of God,
WHO is the LIGHT of salvation into Eternity?
Dec 20, 2011
Dec 20, 2011 at 11:24 AM UTC
days on end
lakes unending going nowhere
the cyclic random nightly trilling
words that, mean .
and also mean what you want them to
hollow laughter
and the hollowness of a child's face
which means what the mother says it means
but without words
without thought
without worldliness
and utterings of ultimate absurdity
we find meaning
however we can
Jul 28, 2013
Jul 28, 2013 at 7:43 AM UTC
Wherein didst man go asunder?
Plagued and plundered by his own stupor and turnings from god,
Forgetful con's!!!
Wherein didst man go astray?
Made queens as slaves,
Traded love for hate, and affectionate soulmateism for lust?
They stoked the crust!!!
Where didst thou meander?
Thy terrace thou had made starved,
Thy hearts hast gone emptied,
Cheaters of bars!!!
Doth thy drink not dilute thou?
Innocent babies thou hast turned to war
Thou gaveth no love
On foreign shore
Pornographic icon's thou hast made galore
As thyself worship's its every temptation!!!
Thou made bombs thine settled truth
Thou hast let technology becometh thy own comfy noose,
Thou art hooked on electrical tablets
Made religion vain
Thou art becoming maggots!!!
Thyself thou calleth a king
Thou giveth no soul to thy desolate queens
Thou art just a stove
Of dumbed down things
As doth thou get thy kicks off the many men and women thou mayest talk to?
Cut down trees,
And built thy filth,
Made castle mansions
Of diamond nilch,
Is thy wealth thy life thou may lead?
Thou gave disease
And tanks for fun
Thou art a lost
And lonesome one,
Still addicted to new age worldliness!!!!
What didst thou miss?
Oh beasting man,
Thou art clever
To make thy plans
But didst thou not know that thy own contrivance will be halted??????
May 31, 2015
May 31, 2015 at 8:49 AM UTC