"worldy" poems
Knowing that history repeats itself
and to define a fool is also repitition
Theres madness stacked in minds of many on a shelf
mankinds unordinary fatal condition
Our generation is falling
while temporal worldy attainment rises
Technology renewed us into babies, crawling
to the new updated components that buys us
So blend up the world and fit it in your cup
i hope you choke on the faithless future that fuels you
Dont get out of bed dont wake up
when you dont know how to
The spirit of this race was depleted
when the disease of identities was treated
Oct 29, 2014
Oct 29, 2014 at 11:36 PM UTC
she bleeds,
hard and dark, bitterwords
and angry scowls,
from the depths of her lazyboy chair.
age has stolen
her laughter, wit and compassion....
pain is her worldy possesion,
it blinds her to all else.
she used to laugh and smile and i miss that, so much,
and i wish that, my boy
would have those memories
but we have become,
the whipping boy,
to her frailty,
her scroogelike attitudes,
her impatience to,
be done with it all....
this is my sacrifice,
my burden,
willingly, lovingly,
shared by my lover and child...
but, oh! somedays,
it is like,
carrying a bag,
overfull,
of sharded glass,
that pierces my back
and stabs at my heart.
Dec 10, 2014
Dec 10, 2014 at 5:16 PM UTC
There're times that I ended up conmparing myself to others
I tried to refocus my life to where their eyes were
I tried to reason out to God what my desires are
And even tried to ran away from the Great Commission.
No one could ever tell you that you are called by God,
It is God Himself who can call you out
For you to surrender, it was God's movement to tap you.
I realized how blessed I am,
Of course, there're always situations that binds my eyes
But the worldy desires do not satisfy my inner soul.
Indeed, I am blessed
To have Jesus accepted in my heart
And I know that my faith in him is authentic.
God has blessed us with wonderful things
And Satan has stolen our identity in Christ
He became jealous of how God wants to make us
With His very own image.
My life is different, not because I am unique
But because God is with me
Yes, I do fail; it's a guarantee
But God never sees me as failure, but a victor!
It was a random thought,
But it's not a misery at all
I know God is in control.
Nov 3, 2014
Nov 3, 2014 at 8:53 AM UTC
I see my kins dancing and laughing in unision
but I crave the silence - the forgotten sound of reverie.
Am I a part of their worldy communion
or is my world simply a lonesome treachery?
© fey (10/07/22)
Jul 10, 2022
Jul 10, 2022 at 12:57 PM UTC
I found a man of great Tilly stock,
And asked him for a frilly walk,
Unto which he said he’ll tell
The way to Heaven and the way to Hell.
“Pimply weaves of basket bread,
And a golden goose upon the head;
Let it squawk with plumpy feathers
With that you’ll relinquish worldy tethers.”
Frowned up in loofy days,
“Sir tell me of your ghangly ways!”
I loosed and cried; simply confused
“Worry not my sun and moon your muse!
For water is a half-penny to a tree,
And snickle-snacks don’t sell for free.
Yet if you must know of my tale,
Then sit there yonder and make a trail.”
However Sir, I am not meek
I have no cunning for the week.
“Your tale I do not wish to know,
Simply tell me which way to go!”
Crimpets high and yellow traps,
“You’ll lose yourself with the bats.
Go up; go down with nickle fritz,
Beware to lose yourself upon the blitz
For in rush and haste there in gleeb,
Wear ignorance for the trancy steed.
I let loose of many brumble yunk,
To sail for seas I never thunk
Yet wax and wane for waves ah-do,
And loose bracknees in multitude.
Traverse tall grass and shundy groves
And you’ll lose those things you thought you loathe.”
“My oh my old man I sigh,
For those things be near nor nigh.”
And with that I give my sullen reply
And turned and a bid a fair goodbye.
Yet upon reminiscence I bade in lye,
And whim my eye not to cry.
For in the tall tale of thy,
Taught I was to live; not die.
Question not a method sly.
But he mumbled and grumbled,
Though he never stumbled.
Living for him he never frumbled.
Many days he spent catching geese,
Upon a head knit with fleece.
OH! I should have let him talk; not cease
For to iron a book you can use yeast.
Heaven to Hell dived by two,
Heed the old man and crux with yew.
And ewe and ewe will catch the flu
Sheep don’t lead in a society so true.
Mar 6, 2012
Mar 6, 2012 at 1:08 PM UTC
Turning up and down in the wind-every single crane I folded
On the seventeenth day of the fifth month
I took you to go see the gardens
To see the orchids bloom
White Purple and blue
Hanging leaves
Trees like statues on a night without wind
The ghost festival
It was dark in the perfumed gardens
Velvet purple sky
We sat and listened to the far off music
The sound of drums
Traveling along the gurgling river
Sitting down on the edge of a rock
You were laughing and smoking one of my cigarettes
Those wisps of smoke curling around
And the flick flick of your ash on a rock
You thought you were so cool sitting there like Joplin, all strung out and white looking like Courtney love
Your knee high socks
Are smeared in mud and pollen
Just then the music all stopped at the festival down the river
Except for some lone flute playing a haunting other-worldy melody
As we sat looking on the calm purple waters
The children and old women took small paper boats with candles inside
The mothers and the fathers
The sisters and cousins Uncles and brothers
All knee deep in the darkened waters
Pushing those small glowing ships down the river
Leading all those lost souls and spirits
The ghosts of this year's dead flowing out to sea
Like a fleet of stars they slowly drifted
Water reflecting the hundreds of candles
That crescent moon looked so right above the spirits
I watched them clear the bend
- Without taking a breath-
Until you laughed and flicked your cigarette **** into the still water
Ripples of moonlight
Talking about yourself in the dark
Somewhere down the river the music started again
Jan 20, 2012
Jan 20, 2012 at 5:16 AM UTC
emptiness floating on a soft breeze;
gently sweeping the surface,
the world is ingested.
envy, the one wholly pure remnant,
is sacredly held by the breeze;
it becomes everything.
proceeded by greed of the empty,
the worldy consumption is
everything as nothing.
existence is jealousy alive within a
gust of melancholy winds,
sifting through the
infinte abyss of everything that is
whole; the entity of true
whollyness residing
within the boundaries of all that
is confined by emptiness:
everything as nothing.
logic and analysis aren't existent.
time rests in nowhere land.
envy is god.
may the lord repent me for my sins?
Jan 12, 2013
Jan 12, 2013 at 12:32 AM UTC
We deny the right, and accept the wrong
without a single question asked.
When it comes to worldy desires,
we want it all, and more.
It's pleasure to the human body,
yet we don't realize, God is the only
treasure. Lies overcome us, while
lust destroy's us.
We break to tiny pieces like glass when it falls
Shattered all over the place
but really, who can fix this?
my dear,
only God can fix this aching pain,
put every piece right where it shall stay
for God will pieces to look more than new.
Sep 26, 2013
Sep 26, 2013 at 9:30 PM UTC
Manic spells have gripped him well
the ups and downs his worthy crown
Kingly view, but worldy hue
He doesn't find much laughter.
He slew his enemies, with righteous idignation,
But wealth, (it seems) is the mightiest nation.
(...)
Hesitation.
Is He worthy? (Of his crown)
Can he lead? (His children)
...
reflecting,
The war begins.
He smiles, he grins.
"We win"
Past sins...
Hold no weight; When the path is straight
& narrow
Firey arrows...
Quenched!?
With which whench?
Hath hitch hence!
Another False-pretense.
"Such non-sense"
...
"Haha shutup"
^-^
...
He picksup'
Hisword.
*(Honed.
Sharp.
An Awe-inspiring, blade of Legend.)*
And counts the costs of the reward.
How can He afford.
To not:
See?
Dec 13, 2014
Dec 13, 2014 at 1:44 AM UTC
It’s horrible, you know.
Not having a home, I mean.
My feet want to grow roots, and just when they sprout, I have to rip them up
And start the process over again.
The place of my childhood is not where I belong anymore
It is comfortable in an odd, other-worldy, dream-like sense.
The place I now sleep will be different tomorrow.
I am a nomad, with no place to call my own.
Sometimes I wish I didn’t desire a safe place to call mine.
Home is where the heart is, they say.
My heart belongs to no one.
Not anymore, anyway.
I used to believe that I had given it away,
But I hadn’t,
Or maybe it was thrown back at me
I can’t seem to remember.
But I still feel the pain, and I remember that I don’t want to remember.
But in my dreams I can recall it all.
They are like nightmares, reminding me that I don’t belong
And that running won’t save me.
I wish I had a home, a heart to call mine, friendships nearby,
And a warm fire to bring life back to my weary bones.
But it’s raining now, and I need to find shelter.
So I’ve got to go,
I doubt I’ll return.
I won’t ask you to remember me,
Though I’ll remember the empty space that you might’ve once filled.
Apr 22, 2013
Apr 22, 2013 at 7:06 PM UTC
The base of everything is black
And behind my eyelids.
Splashes of exotic colors
Explosions like firecrackers.
I know everything
I am everything
And everything knows me
And everything is me.
Whirring lines of transfiguration
Not tangible images
But the core of each thing
It's essence.
No bodies.
No thoughts.
No ideas.
Just knowing
And being.
Each depth I understand
And beyond that depth, I understand
And going down deeper, I still understand.
And it's endless
Like an abyss
Except less black
And more yes, yes, yes.
Sounds are accents to colors
But not necessary
For everything is connected
So everything knows
And to what are words?
Nothing but nothing
There are no words here...
When everything knows
And is, everything.
Lights, lots of lights
Coinciding with color
And creating sound
With it's slap of bright
And splatter of life.
There are more colors than I remember
When my body was mine.
There are sounds I think exist
But I could never hear them before.
Rumbling, rolling.
There are lights so bright I can see souls
Even though I all ready knew they were there.
Free-falling
And floating at the same time
While being rooted
To everything.
There's a buzzing over the flesh of the universe
Ripple-like effects of wavey buzzes
Touching each thing.
And I feel it all in my center
And it's on fire
But so wet.
And it spreads out in a beat like a heart; all over me
Because I am everything.
No shapes and sizes
No differentiating from each thing
The lines are blurred
The edges blending together
Everything is one
But still each thing individually connected.
I understand
And I take this understanding back with me
When I melt back into my fingers and toes
And join the worldy world
With a universe of understanding.
Jan 24, 2011
Jan 24, 2011 at 1:00 PM UTC
Art
is like worshiping god
With the purest of intention
Of surrendering to master
Pouring the love in the form of art as a mark of devotion
Art is melting oneself to the mould of the form
Lifting the soul to reach beyond the worldy consideration
Art is beauty in the eyes of the artist
It is love beyond comparison
It is promise unbreakable
It is the faith and believe of one's existence
No rewards and recognitions matter
When it's deeply pursued from heart
Love and devotion feeds the soul
When cherised in the form of art
Manisha
Jul 31, 2015
Jul 31, 2015 at 1:04 PM UTC
She had me pushed up against a wall,
And so many wishes fell a part,
I could not count the thoughts that left me,
Nor could I count or comprehend the way I felt,
I could grasp and guess at it,
As though some moonlit, angelic, breath had wrapt itself
around my neck, in such a lifely grasp,
Nothing that could **** but everything that could do the opposite,
She told me a story, and so many other stories that I can not remember
with lips, such imperfect lips, and such hard hitting silence,
Against this wall, it was another life, another living, a dream
Inside places, worldy, unimaginable places that can only exist
in moments, everything leaves you but a graceful moment.
Memories of perfect moments, stop themselves
against mindful windows and scenery, landscapes, and lovely melodies,
They pin themselves so tragically against against a fate that will be forgotten,
I am grateful, and in a dreary storm of longing
for these moments full of perfection, are stuck with smiles
archived and buried upon themselves,
To reach and grasp, empty handed, convinced and frightened,
I reach out for something, quite the something,
That, can no longer be reached out for.
Oct 20, 2012
Oct 20, 2012 at 5:03 PM UTC
"I'm a big fan of the way you breathe," I said.
He smiled.
Anyone else would be taken aback and thrown my loneliness into my face.
"I appreciate the fact that you exist," I continued.
His eyes looked at my eyes, but that wasn't the whole story. Not quite.
Because once the delicious visual receptors in his gummy pink brain
receive my Natalie signal of recognition,
it's as if his linguistic region wants to talk to the operator in my linguistic region,
and they strike up a lovely lively convo
about colors, and the weather, and how **** fine the oxygen feels today.
He never says much
with his sounds or voice box,
maybe because his voice box is sore,
or maybe because he's embarrassed of his voice,
or maybe still because his neural impulses and chemical signals
can not be properly conveyed with the noises and syllabel patterns found in a human language.
I like to think
that his thinking is so complex yet pure and beautiful
that any other mind could not possibly comprehend or appreciate its magnitude.
I like to think that he has every answer to every inquisition ever;
he is omniscient. Other-worldy.
A religion in his own
who does not wish to save others but to merely observe, unbiasedly
and make me sink into the depths of admiration
and flood my bloodstream with oxytocin.
What a man.
May 9, 2012
May 9, 2012 at 7:20 PM UTC
softly...
lost in idle
despair
simple it is to be so removed
from all worldy considerations
from all sense
of worthiness
if for just a while
-------
-------
and then:
HUMAN PRIDE!
GREAT THINGS!
----
----
such self indulgence
neither
heals nor repairs
truer feelings merge
with the desire for
the sublime
AND RIGHT ON TIME!
wait a while longer
and the earth itself shall die
out of the hell of
indifference!!!!!!
heros emerging
you and i
Aug 13, 2010
Aug 13, 2010 at 10:27 AM UTC
they came to **** the silent ones
to carve their ugly piece of history
to stab the soul of our humanity
until no glimpse of life remained
who came like thieves in the night
to pull the covers off worldy beds
to hurl their misery like atomic fall out
until we all knew now we were dead
where paper defenses stood not the time
the innocent lamented with no support
and blood flowed endless down the streets
until no life was left to bleed
they came dressed in their business suits
had technological manners in things they said
and masses of people fell fast in the line
for hidden agendas too soon to know
and then before the world took notice
they left behind a world in ruins
and spots of life were left buried deep
within the lost ones crying out in pain
they came and cursed all that of divinity
held close to heart the one in Hell,
and ripped apart the humanity fabric
till tears of acid fell from darkened faces
but one who stood the test of time
the one who died for all to live
rose up and called for a heavenly father
who split the clouds and rained down hope
the ones dressed smartly in a devils design
screamed out for mercy, but none to find
and a man and women came forth to witness
that once again our spirits soared
in this harsh ending there came a light
that shown so bright our eyes could see
and everyday a new beginning
from ash into eternal destiny
Feb 13, 2011
Feb 13, 2011 at 6:25 AM UTC
Where oh where is my worldy wisdom
That can set this place straight
Why oh why should we wait to change
When the ball is in motion – technically circulation
What man will decide to be god and
Direct all these direction less folk
Back to their hometowns
New roads or
Uncharted sees
I don’t think I have lived the happiest days of my life yet
I guess I am waiting for her to say
“Travel with me”
Because,
I’m afraid
If I ask her and she said “no”
For whatever reason
I accept and understand
I’d still have to go
No matter the season
And if and when, that time comes and it happens
And I fall madly in love deep into my voyage
This is the day,
I will take my god a little more seriously
Seriously.
Jun 19, 2014
Jun 19, 2014 at 5:54 PM UTC
Immortal and undecaying these poems, I know, shall die one day; one day all fame and immortality shall fall flat among the debris. The Keokaradang, the Himalayas, the Twin Tower and the Great Wall of China shall be flying in the air like the light dry skins of onions. The eyes of Newton and Einstein shall be upturned; upon those eyes, the blue ashes of the utterly destroyed stars shall be falling down ceaselessly. Alas, where will be lost for ever science, technology, art, literature, music and paintings earned through thousand years!
When these poems will die one day; when all fame and immortality shall fall flat one day among the debris; when the Keokaradang, the Himalayas, the Twin Tower and the Great Wall of China will be flying in the air like the light dry skins of onions; when the eyes of Newton and Einstein will be upturned; when upon those eyes, the blue ashes of the utterly destroyed stars will be falling down ceaselessly; alas, when where will be lost for ever science, technology, art, literature, music and paintings earned through thousand years; that day, o God, pour down those poems into my soul, listening to which, all the nymphs and inhabitants of Paradise will start dancing in joy.
I walk bearing such a soul which plays like a flute, sings like a cuckoo, runs stirring murmuring sounds like a spring and dances unfolding its feathers like a pea-cock. If I were not submerged utterly into the darkness of the worldy life, my soul would play such a way, your sky would start trembling; it would sing such a way, the passers-by would remain standing by speechless; it would run stirring murmuring sound such a way, poems after poems would fall down into the souls of the poets; and it would dance unfolding its feathers such a way, the eyes of the beauty-lovers would be dazzled in wonder. My soul is, as it were, a cuckoo who has mistakenly entered a city; he sings songs but the outcry of the machine-monsters does not let them enter the ears of lords and ladies.
Dec 13, 2015
Dec 13, 2015 at 11:59 AM UTC
It takes what it takes
to know what to take
and to detect what is fake.
If disappointment is a reality, who says it cant be double-crossed?
If its a one man's world, who needs a double-bank?
If its either cheat or be cheated, who needs to be caught up in a double-bind?
Whats *****
shocks
much more than the findings of the sherlocks
All they say is, "no ****
but whose really taking the hit?
when all we can think of is taking to our heels in a fleet
Joining the contest
at its hottest
drives us to the binge at our adeptest
Mistakes are abound
and everywhere promises are airbound
suffocating the area we surround
Russian is a scrambled language
just as my cuban rainguage
reverts us into ice age
We are all elements
soaked into worldy commitments
to meet our societal requirements
Love is not a physical duty
enjoyed in a ladies *****
via packaged protection zooty
A life aint gat nine
its not everytime things will be fine
all sectors needs you to brace-up and hoist your catline.
Apr 16, 2014
Apr 16, 2014 at 1:48 PM UTC
Beyond the boundaries of time,
And the space for constant contact,
Or the clusterfuck that becomes the mind,
And the way the lines of lives developing
Seem to lose parallels and begin to contrast,
Beyond the need or feel to act,
Or to attend to tact,
Pretensions unneeded in the face of facts,
Beyond the answers not given,
The questions, not asked,
The niches of the heart,
That fill and flood with other parts,
And other people,
Beyond the lies of the insidious,
The worries, seeking to make one wary,
The woes of trials faced in silence,
The doubt, screaming loud of worthlessness,
Beyond the disquiet,
Attempting to build walls between,
Dividing the entity from the worldy plane,
And all other beings,
We build strings, made of titanium,
As strong as the crust of neutron stars,
Connections that flourish,
Ties that extend, and refuse to be severed,
Bonds that live lifetimes;
Beyond... forever.
May 22, 2021
May 22, 2021 at 4:45 PM UTC
This world is a rotten carcass, its seekers are dogs
Infact, worse than dogs as dogs love their master
But you forgot God in the love of a fleeting illusion
So God has left you wandering in the mire of nihilism
Every atheist is deaf dumb and blind, worse than a donkey
He mistakes his state of confusion for enlightenment
So let the arrogant people celebrate worldy progress
It will all be leveled to dust, as every civilization before
You people will destroy yourselves with your own hand
May 19, 2022
May 19, 2022 at 6:53 AM UTC
All a person wants
Is money and fame
The world we live in
Allows everything therein
What we want, what they want
The war for worldly treasures
What we do, What they do
Nothing else, just for pleasure
He who sees and listens mankind
From above, from below, from right and left
Feels for the sick with theft
Because He knows we are to return to Him
For He knows our ***** souls that lie within
He knows what we see and hear
He knows too what we swallow or bear
He knows what we think and say
He knows too if we drink and play
Neither of you will be blessed, He says
And every evil doer in fear then prays
Oh God, let open the gates of heaven for us
Oh God, your disgrace will never be caused by us
Then still, all a person would want
Would be money and fame
They'd be at war for worldy treasures
Nothing else, just for pleasure
Feb 22, 2015
Feb 22, 2015 at 5:20 AM UTC
she was of another world
far outside my reach
a flamingo in the mountains
with color that doesn't quite fit in
but without, would leave my world so dull.
she was of another world
but greeted as if we'd met
like black rhino's in the bush
so careful with her bowing horns
as she placed her cheeks on mine
with tenderness only she could show.
she was of another world
a greener more humid place
lush of unfurled ferns and pollen covered leaves
where foraging for fruit is foreshortened,
and bounty builds with ease
she was of another world
a place i never knew
showing me the world at large
showing me her world too
Feb 26, 2017
Feb 26, 2017 at 4:38 PM UTC
it's like for a few hours no one is living
not dead,just living in the now.
troubles have been left home
like the wives,kids and parents of most.
Young pretty mouthwatering females everywhere.
Truly women will be the end of men
everyone is looking and searching for that perfect one.
but who finds love in this worldly place.
No,l take it back
l found love is this worldy place
and the only thing stiff is not my neck.
everyone see's her,l can see the hunger in their eyes
l did not know her name
but l decided to call her Friday
for her body is down the week
and her legs are like a smooth stick.
l wish you could have seen her yourself
for beauty is in the eye of the beholder
but l feel like l have the eyes of the earth on my shoulder.
if tonight l do not dream of my flawless empress
something must be wrong.
for she is not a muse for a rhyme
but for a song.
her whole body shakes when she walks like she is playing ping-pong.
and every time l steal a glance my heart skips a gong.
l try to look for the last time at my bottle shaped Delilah
but she catches me looking
and with one wink
my heart beats like a song by metro booming
Nov 15, 2017
Nov 15, 2017 at 2:45 PM UTC