"yond" poems
~
*O Painter
with thy own eye
would thee
paint me in mine own natural hue
prithee paint me as i am,
imperfections
and blemishes true
Load thy brush
with colors sundry
to maketh yond first pure sweep
across the ****** frieze,
fill'd with pangs of hunger.
paint me as i standeth
bethought, in deep
With mine own love and mine own desire,
blurring the edges unclean
with mine own regrets
and mine own mental gyre,
in mine own natural age,
of deep forest green
O Painter
Paint me sinister turquoise,
in lavender and maroon,
combine the amethyst and amber
blend the iceberg
and the indigo moon.
Paint me as i standeth,
prithee see with thy eye
a mistress in yond lady plight
Prithee paint me all i am
i cullionly
a mistress in all yond lady might
Paint me in the optimistic
silv'r of dawn,
but don’t miss the purple
to shade the bruise
of the bygone.
paint me in the sky blue journal
O Painter
Paint me as a unique template
smudge black white and grizzled
merging all the colors of thy palette.
col'r me a rainbow
in a rainy drizzle
Paint me tall so yond i standeth
loftier than any mountain
Paint me as a dram bird, delicate
with soft feathers silken
Paint me harmony, as a violin
so yond i can sing thy solitary tune
paint me as thy poetry
with song and melody
wrapp'd in a cocoon
O Painter
paint me as a dream yond rises
in did saturate colors
with a steady upbeat flight awry
tint, a fluttering
of a quite quaint butterfly
Portray me with endurance
imbue so bold and bright
doth not hesitate
to depict mine own mind
in profound fuchsia and white.
Useth the colors yond thee would borrow
Thy palette not yet exsufflicate
Paint mine own loss and mine own sorrow
in search of a shade so ******
Adorn mine own heart in glowing garnet
at which hour thee paint mine own love
add a true broken blue shade
of the cloud and the rain above;
Study mine own dry sorrow
in mine own soul
useth any shade thee plaited
soften the edges of control
in a tinge of xanthene.
O Painter
Prithee paint me
Mine own passion and mine own spirit
shall has't a crimson r'd hint
mine own remorse and mine own regret
shall reflect an ink stain print
Paint me in mine own eye so true
O Painter
but add a dash of courage too*
~
Dec 17, 2017
Dec 17, 2017 at 10:52 AM UTC
A tug of war
It is the past experience and what was saw and felt
A word in keeping a person in line
A restriction of one’s thoughts and actions
A procedure in holding one back
******* being a form beyond one’s accord
Thank God there is a Lord
There is a chance to survive
More than a thought being a strive
I dream but all I see is a nightmare
I see effort, but when will there be preserver?
Its like a road block with detour
A method of turn back
I feel as if I am trapped in bonds
Maybe I am still sleep and need to wake up from my yond
Perhaps it’s nothing more than a dream
It’s my thinking I am in a movie stream
But its truly tough being rough
A different slavery oppression of the past with a theory of the present
A overseer continuing in present oppression
A silenced voice having no expression
The downward bound with no mountain reach
It’s time for a rebellion approach
Oppression is real and not a joke
It’s like an open wound with having a stinging poke
Oppression is alive and attempting to do well
Yet the world has a message in tell
‘OPPRESS AND OVERCOME, ITS ABOUT NO MOVEMENT AND BEING NUMB. IT TAKES MULTITUDES IN SUPPLYING THE STRENGTH, BUT ALL MUST GO THE MILES NO MATTER WHAT THE LENGTH”
Survival is how you chose to live
Its not a verb but is subjective
The voice must always be objective
Oppression cannot continue in terms in having its way
The sunrise has risen and it’s a tomorrow being a new day
These are the times to move forward and be strong
It’s a matter of all personalities of creeds in knowing how to get along
So shake whatever chains you feel you have on
Stand up and be counted where you belong
Don’t let any form of oppression hold you back
You have grasped the concept of understanding in the theory of thinking sharp being the detailed tack
Just give oppression one big smack
Listen America it’s the various cultures that stack
Oppression stand back as you have been defeated being a pack.
Jan 23, 2016
Jan 23, 2016 at 5:18 PM UTC
Master, have mercy.
I am Master. I
Have no Master.
The planet
is atrocious.
I am It.
Planet Earth
is atrocious.
I am It.
Why is it so hard
to see
be yond peace?
Why is it so hard
to be
who you want?
The mind, secluded
in a prison rift
of copy paste
makes waste.
Where is my paper?
Where is my pen?
I write for me!
I repeat as if I
will soon
believe.
I write for me!
(logging on again)
The planet is horrid.
I am part of It.
Oh, Peace & War,
do we know it.
Yet with an audience,
my imagination
grows stagnant.
The once in abstract
gathers into form.
I did this misdeed.
A disservice.
Once a dreamer.
Now a journalist.
Jul 9, 2018
Jul 9, 2018 at 12:36 AM UTC
I hath walked past the windy breeze,
Into thy land of fading love.
What do I see?
Fairies and endless sky did paint with dove.
Bewildered and hath lost in thy strange land,
I await thee for days and nights.
Reminiscing our story in an open strand.
What do I see?
Hands intertwined, long and quite walks.
Four years has’t hath passed in a blink of an eye,
Bonded with faint whispers and a truthful lie.
An untold chapter shall I recite,
In amid of teen and sorrowful cries.
Wake up love and whisper in mine own ear,
A foreswear yond I yearn to heareth from thy heart.
“I love thee my love and we shall at no time part”.
What do I hear?
Silence did trample by the mourning clouds.
Apr 23, 2022
Apr 23, 2022 at 9:02 AM UTC
Shall I compare thee to the butterfly,
Thou hast more beauty, more strength, and more grace.
Rough winds do blow paper wings toward the sky,
And an icy chill doest berate h’r face.
The weight of h’r first original form:
But a caterpillar, she did abhor,
Brings onto h’r face a look so forlorn
Alas! One day she proclaimed she would soar!
With wings so frail, she emerged from her sleep,
With a new body, h’r soul couldst keepeth
To findeth a love so quaint and so deep,
Upon my gaze, thee did take hence mine breath.
I hath’t such adoration for thy soul,
For t’ is mine weak heart, yond hath’t quickly stole.
Feb 13, 2020
Feb 13, 2020 at 10:22 PM UTC
If 't be true i ev'r befall to meeteth myself,
i'd sitteth graciously on silence's table,
and studyeth mine own evolved, yet un-evolv'd self,
undisturbed, unhurried, un-agitated,
by w'rld's brightest gulf
. and smileth backeth, as i seeth myself.
if 't be true i ev'r befall to meeteth myself,
i'd sitteth comf'rtably on peace's table,
and gaze mine own wounded, yet un-wound'd self,
un-agitated, un-deviated, unmoved,
by w'rld's s'rry self
. and smileth backeth, as i seeth myself.
if 't be true i ev'r befall to meeteth myself,
i'd sitteth calmly on agony's table,
and obs'rve mine own painful, yet not painful self,
unmoved, undaunted, unleashed,
by w'rld's weirdest self,
. and smileth backeth, as i seeth myself.
if 't be true i ev'r befall to meeteth myself,
i'd sitteth fain on glee's table,
with mine own eyes smiling, and smiling at myself,
unaffected, unguarded, unremitted,
by w'rld's unrequit'd self
. and grineth backeth, at myself.
if 't be true i ev'r befall to meeteth myself,
twill forsooth beest a did bless, contending miracle,
as yond's at which hour i couldst pateth & greeteth myself,
in real, in real, in real!
and maketh this fact p'rceivable,
yond our w'rld may sure oft hest struggles,
and our m're existence in t,
may just beest negligible,
but we nev'r gotta f'rget
to stayeth hopeful, smileth and giggle,
nay matt'r how hard the struggles,
as yond's the most wondrous fuel,
yond can oft causeth miracles,
in a w'rld,
so obsess'd with struggles!
And then with a sigheth,
a blooming grineth,
yet a sparkling desire within,
i'll did bid myself,
a farewell
Aug 1, 2018
Aug 1, 2018 at 5:42 AM UTC
God's thoughts are claimed unthinkable
correctly by a man, but there is a way
a man
may,
however,
imagine he can. Amen. Amen?
Higher than the earth,
above all we can think or ask,
God's thoughts are said to be,
yond all a man can imagine.
Yet I do, imagine God thinks, if anything, at all.
In my thought, a child emerges in the midst,
thinking round and round,
up and down, this way and that
what if
some how, we think, this child in me,
and I , we think
Off the tight line from here to there,
God's thoughts must be
every where
we can think,
tighter
up and down and all around,
through solid ground and
non-empty space.
Minds are bubbles, let us say,
God's thought are not up above us
exceeding both our reach and grasp.
but nearer, being here, in the bubble
where we live, and move, and have our
being.
Seeing the never hidden
is not revelation,
it is ignorance, ceasing.
Peace,
be with us, everyone.
Time shall tell if this fixed that.
Oct 31, 2018
Oct 31, 2018 at 2:50 PM UTC
sailing down
a sunless sea
downward to
infinity
no stars above
to give me hope
or guide me to
an island shore
with every change of course i make
my destin--y
remai-ns unchang---ed
no escape
from this wilderness
no running from this
empti-ne---ss
...da-da-da-dahh
duh da-da da da dahhh
ta-ke
my ha-nd
and come
and come with me
fa--r
so far be-yond
this storm
this stormy sea
rest your weary heart within
leave the wor-ld
behind my friend
you've heard me calling
for a long long time
just take my hand
and you will find...
...da-da-da-dahh
duh da-da da da dahhh
so i turn my ship
into the wind
and fa-ce the tru-th
that i have seen
softly singing
she calls my name
with open arms
i release my pain
and as the sea closes over me
my hea-rt at last finds
ser-en-it---y
... oblivio--n
a broken heart's best frie-nd
ta-ke
my ha-nd
and come
and come with me
fa-r
so far be-yond
this storm
this stormy sea
rest your weary heart within
leave the wor-ld
behind my friend
you've heard me calling
for a long long ti-me
just take my hand
and you will find...
... oblivio--n
a broken heart's best fri-end
so i turn my ship
into the wind
embrace the heart of
obli-vi---on...
"hello friend"
she welcomes me within...
so ta-ke
my ha-nd
and come
and come with me
far
so far bey-ond
this storm
this stormy sea
rest your weary heart within
leave the wor-ld
behind my friend
you've heard me calling
for a long long time
just take my hand
and you will find...
obli-vi-o---n
obli-vi--o---on
obli-vi-o--n
" i'll be your bro-ken hea-rt's
be-st frien--d... "
.
Pic Poem
http://oi57.tinypic.com/10qb7tz.jpg
.
Feb 9, 2018
Feb 9, 2018 at 6:17 PM UTC
***** alleys weeping garbage (fish heads)
40s (alhambra) for 1 euro & a new leather
jacket;
football games in parks
carpeted broken glass/kids laughing.
sun like a strange shimmer 'yond th'mountains rearing
like
jagger's wild horses ,
liquid spanish smiles in little bars all w/th'same signs.. words
words
words like birds ...
(birds that take off
in th'park in raucous flights
if yer talkin' too loud.)
eat minute fried fish outside over 6 glasses strong beer.
almost fall off stool twice's'many times scrutinizing passing girls.
go home & write pomes 'bout cig'rettes & running,
call it "oxymoron" 'cause doing both in same day
is bad ******* news for the guts.
go to the university campus
for cheap coffee
& conversation
w/a girl from the bar (the bartender)
write a poem while she talks & call it
"terra nova"
that one's about nothing.
Jan 28, 2012
Jan 28, 2012 at 8:58 AM UTC
I have been asked to watch a baby while the parents go out for the night
Now this shouldn’t be so hard
Well as the night went on
All I could do was constant yond
My sleep that wasn’t very long
The baby needed to be changed
This is where everything became rearranged
When I went to take off the old diaper, there wasn’t anymore
I must think quick and a solution of explore
What was I suppose to do?
The newspaper being all the news that is fit to wear
A paper diaper beyond compare
Even Luv’s wouldn’t want to share
Yet the baby was still giving me a fit
Moments were in what the baby was telling me I am not going to sit
What was I thinking as I need to quit
I sure was glad when the Parents came home
I knew I wanted to be in my own place in bed alone.
Dec 1, 2015
Dec 1, 2015 at 8:04 PM UTC
Today they lowered old Mary down,
Her voice once loud was deadly silenced
Her mocking tongue made no sound.
Silence is a noun, silence is a noun
She have never shown love old mother Mary
Only pain and jeer and lots of misery
I don’t remember any candies any pastries
I pray for Mary, I pray for Mary
I saw a dozen blue birds flying south
After they lowered old Mary down
Be yond the shadow of a doubt
The talk around town, they lowered her down
The horse-drawn carriages trot past my Ferrari
I stood there like a frighten mouse
Leaning against my house
My eyes were teary, my eyes were teary
..
..
Aug 31, 2013
Aug 31, 2013 at 9:37 AM UTC
Slipping free from yester's time,
A Feather trapses yond the way,
On wind it floats, a step, sublime,
Dipping and ducking flakes of grey,
Those forged by winter, the sun's decay,
Plates of ivory, why must they hack?
Torn soil, a relic of why you turn away,
Soar away, O Feather, and don't float back.
O Sea, so fair, shimmering as a chime,
As the wind you switch, and you sway,
And your blues shine like a dime,
But if he drifts beyond the bay,
Will waters claim him, as they say?
Or shall he wash back, with the wrack?
To you, O Sea, he mustn't stray,
Soar away, O Feather, and don't float back.
O Mount, your peak, the rigorous climb,
At your summit, scores kneel and pray,
Your caps glow white, with a grass bed of lime,
If you were where the feather must stay,
Shall your perils bring him fray?
Must he lie in caves of black?
Nay, a feather must fly, and outward he must splay,
Soar away, O Feather, and don't float back.
O Feather, O Feather, where will you spend your days?
Here I must halt on the trail of your track,
Seize the wind, O Feather, the world is your prey,
Soar away, O Feather, and don't float back.
May 26, 2021
May 26, 2021 at 6:08 PM UTC
*21 November 2012 *
We see it fallin' down like an old tower
Took it for granted, all b'yond our power
We never saved it, thought t’was b'yond repair
But the next things took us unprepared
I want to begin again, despite the worry
By sayin', I’m wholeheartedly sorry
For bein’ so coward and disdain
I know it costed you so much pain
I want to begin again, as long as it takes
By acknowledgin' these simple mistakes
And hope you’d forgive 'n' forget
These faults are mine alone to regret
I want to begin again, after all
Like the first time we met last Fall
T’was fated, but still feels surreal
T’is heart— hope will mend ‘n’ heal
I want to begin again, like this
When we have no one to diss
Like the last time we met in the house
When all the anger ‘n’ aches arouse
I want to begin again, without a clue
By bein' honest, simple, and true
B’cause they don’t know about us
Our nightmares turn from dreams to dusts
My lips tell it’s no joke to me
Take a look into my eyes and you’ll see
Can we do it all over again, minus the pain?
B’cause I just want us to begin again
Jul 4, 2015
Jul 4, 2015 at 11:54 AM UTC
20 October 2011
Some things are so distant, hard to get
Just like people who easily forget
All through these years, little have remained
Of beautiful memories bleached 'n' stained
Standin' b'fore the ruins of the past
Destroyed by personal desires and greedy lust
Come fallin' off the ground like a raw fruit
Too young to nourish, cannot face the truth
I can hardly recall our comings 'n' goings together
Our beginnings 'n' endings scattered somewhere
Too much pretenses, void of true feelings
We're sour grapes contemplatin' for lost things
Stayin' or leavin' doesnt matter
It's a choice I've not decided soon after
This head hurts thinkin' too much
Some things are b'yond recall as old love is such
Sep 29, 2015
Sep 29, 2015 at 12:29 PM UTC
What is this lodging and people strangeth
Yond walketh but never see
Looking as the screen doest changeth
Laughing with mirth and glee
And roaring beasts runneth up the roads
Like dragons with hurtling and smoke
Gigantic monsters with heavy loads
May runneth down honest folk
Just to returneth to calmer times
Would maketh mine own journey pleasant
I feeleth yond hither I'm out of rhymes
I'm nay more than a peasant
Taketh me back to times more sane
The fifteen nineties art for me
I cannot writeth, nor bethink, nor remain
In twenty twenty three
Jan 19, 2023
Jan 19, 2023 at 3:06 PM UTC
She stands by me, she stands by all of us
Shielding with bright the flame of purest truth
Like Thetis gainst the banes, she’s beauteous
Allowing me to grow within my youth
A roaming free through her prairies untamed
Hued with vibrant roses as her stripes red
With lakes most deep and mountains, high most famed
And stars that watch over us when dawn’s dead
America, the guard of all the rest
Brother to the young, mother to her son
An eagle soaring o’er the sky’s blue breast
Daring to claim the fiery, hot sun
Aglimmer with a brazen, nascent zest
And bring it back and lay it in hard pride
America the beauteous and bright
Across the mountains folding ‘gainst the wold
Across the lakes reflecting the deep sky
Across the cities rimmed at night in gold
Is the place where harmony shan’t e’er die
America, the place where sorrows flee
The land of the brave, those who charge to fight
Who fight for what makes America, free
Who fight for what makes America, bright
Who fight against the scourge of dawning hate
We are the folks who lead the world before
Tomorrow, we make America great
America, tis to freedom, the door
America, tis to pure hope, the gate
America, to the future, the tide
America, the beauteous and bright
In times of need, in times of woe and drear
We welcomed all hapless people who fell
Cringing within their dark, wholesome despair
By the black feet of dark the king of hell
This land is land that always share must we
This land is land with laws and judges, just
This land the land of opportunity
This land the land forged together with trust
America, the home of everyone
Who dare to achieve ‘yond the mortal eye
Warden of all, rebuilder of the gone
The eagle who dares to the bright stars, fly
Beyond where rims all space the light of sun
And venture deep into galaxies, wide
America, the beauteous and bright
Oct 13, 2013
Oct 13, 2013 at 9:35 AM UTC
Toys being delivered all the way from the North Pole
The snow being our open curtain with the wonders of behold
Sheer delight for every Girl and Boy
Christmas trees throughout all households danced Christmas morning
Kids everywhere waking up from their yond
Look alive kids, we are your living toys to look upon
The sight brought a lot of joy
Candy Kane stripes that seemed to glisten
The songs of Christmas made you want to listen
The Candy Kane’s lighted up as they danced
You felt as if you were in a trance
Toy Ballet Dolls that all stood tall
They also danced for all
The Nutcracker approach
The Jack in the Box who was a joke
It was laughter in words he spoke
Toy scale model trains came to life
A Polar Express feel
The Christmas experience that was for real
Yet the kids were having so much fun
It’s Christmas Day and we are no way done
The Christmas toys connected with the world in bringing togetherness
Only a Child and an Adult are the witness
Snow was falling outside at every house
It even captivated every living mouse
There was no time to waste
While the kids all rushed to play in the snow
Share a moment in giving to less fortunate that you don’t know
Now we can relax and take it slow
Let us all have some Hot Chocolate and reflect on Christmas Day
Happy faces with a feeling of hope
This is a time for living and knowing how to cope
Christmas being our twinkle in one star
The idea of the Wise Men who travelled very far
It was a place in the desert where there were no cars
Camel was the only transportation to get around
In the distance, a shining light and a lonely star
Destination simply “Miracle”
As the Wise Men arrived they saw a little babe in the Manger
It wasn’t just any little babe, Jesus being for the world
Music played and Joy that was relayed
The night skies seemed to come alive
Yes it is Christmas, but the joyous occasion in triumphant
Come all Ye Faithful, Joy to the World, Oh Come all to Bethlehem
A night that was and tomorrow that will be
Happy Holidays that comes from me.
Nov 29, 2016
Nov 29, 2016 at 2:19 AM UTC
I boarded a Greyhound bus leaving from Downtown Nashville, Tennessee
Destination being anywhere
Yet the Greyhound bus and Smokey moving on the Dixie line being just fine
It will be many stops enroute combined
Perhaps at a nearby bar, I will sip some wine
One could hear the Dixie blues sound
Then an added flavor of western in the background
It was those Greyhound bus blinking headlights along the way
As I leaned back in my seat to recline
I saw my whole life unwind
It was my years growing up in Tennessee
A small farming town in miles for all to see
Yet that Greyhound bus pushed on refreshed and not needing a yond
The Greyhound bus kicked up the road dust
Getting anywhere to a final destination being a must
That Greyhound bus greeted the sunrise being another day
I’m miles down the reckon road
I have been your guide and just call me “TOLD”
In a few minutes, my Greyhound bus will be turning around the bend
Any destination will be asking where have you been?
I covered over 200 miles, and it means our journey has come too an end.
Feb 9, 2016
Feb 9, 2016 at 6:42 PM UTC
More than moving with a sway
A walk that comes with a plan
Music and dancing being the caravan
A step down the great Broadway stage
The captivation of the audience as they are amazed
Come with me on this journey
It’s the music that was composed by my Great Uncle Eubie Blake
Shuffle Along is up for a TONY AWARD
I am proud of what my Great Uncle accomplished and recognition gained in what he achieved
This makes my heart swirl
However, Shuffle Along was on Broadway several years ago, but at that time, Blacks were not allowed to perform, but that didn’t stop my Great Uncle from composing
But that was history and Fast Forward into the present
Shuffle Along back in the day has no step back today
But today, the music that surrounds “Shuffle Along”, as it is every step with a rhythm beat and establishing a meaning of its own
Dancing with coordinating feet
Rhythm in music that can’t be beat
A time to wake up from that long sleeping yond
Broadway awaits that is something to look upon
It’s a new day, and feel that today in what it has become
The sun is hanging high
Tomorrow not promised, but let’s be honest
Dance as if it is the last
Music that brings joy
Pure excitement and inspiration being oh boy
Stardom down Broadway
My Great Uncle Eubie Blake who is no longer alive
But his music continues to strive
“Shuffle Along” is in no hurry, but dance until when, but with audience applause at the end
Shuffle Along with music that prepares you for the ride
Step out and go with the stride.
May 11, 2016
May 11, 2016 at 8:10 PM UTC
You can hit dirt, and anything else you can think of
But when it comes to true talent, it becomes an inspiration of disburse
Genius being a natural talent pond
It all happens during a grown up yond
Equations into algebraic approach and logic
Math problems with theological resolutions
Even with the balance within complexity, the theory of geometry being precise
Excellence and continued excellence beyond any world’s comprehension
Yet being an Afro American Woman, there was white male opposition being like a contest
Colored and White being issues during the Civil Rights Movement
However through it all, three Afro American Women were determined to prove they were the key in construct being the call
Those same black women were standing for all
It was a matter in being given the chance, and having capabilities to advance
Yet challengers in struggles in opposition afraid in possibilities becoming knowledge in sound figures in accuracy
Come back would meet impact
The idea of man in space
The reaches of planets and space being an accomplishment being the trace
The point of the movie, “Step out from emotions into determinations being compact
The dignity and pride in what one expresses is one’s desire in going the miles regardless
But for these three Afro American women, it was objections into victories and talent with defined results
Good reason, but it doesn’t matter even off season
A space launch with thanks to three courteous Black Women
Where anyone can set their mind to, the results become apparent
Obvious in proven and achieving in did.
Jan 23, 2017
Jan 23, 2017 at 11:25 AM UTC
It’s the addiction to words
The offspring of story ideas
Feeling discouraged with being disillusioned
The garbage can being a writer’s friend
The pen that actually says writing on when
The computer telling the writer you can
A writer being absorbed in his or her own emotion
An idea being a sunrise including an ocean
Waves performing on the writer’s calm seas
Hair blowing in the breeze
A touch of calmness with the feeling of being at ease
The writer reflecting on their own time piece
It was time well kept as you slept
Writing appreciation in what the writer felt
Yet it was a situation in what the writer dealt
It was that writing day and night
The lamp became my guiding light
It was writing being a marathon
In between I had to yond
When it came to writing I had to respond
Writing desire with outer emotion
A concept with an angle to explore
It was that confidence and I had a definite sure
Writing anonymous but the writer being known
As a writer one must always remember they are never alone.
Nov 17, 2015
Nov 17, 2015 at 7:22 PM UTC
The walking forbidden moon
The hour of the gong coming soon
Vampires in search of blood and crushing flesh
The end of the breathing pure life having nothing left
The end of humanity
The unleash in having no pity
Blood to strengthen Vampires souls
It doesn’t matter whether young or old
Humans are our enemy
It’s our time to reign for eternity
As we walk the night
Let our vision be clearly stated in sight
The night of torment and ******
Our leader Vampire Bob stated, “This is all at my command”
A blood thirst battle
It’s the Vampires victory being at the saddle
We will be more than just fright
There will be quick death being the plight
We will be reborn
For years, we were in a continual yond
Eyes on flesh that was with a renewed life on what Vampires will become
Lightening being our signal to begin and a Vampires establishment until the end
The Predator’s soul will become the Vampires behold and destiny our threshold.
Mar 23, 2014
Mar 23, 2014 at 3:11 PM UTC
A sunrise starts a new mourn
It’s a wake up from sleep being a yond
A decision in the start of your day
You’re feeling healthy with a thought of ok
But there's a heaviness on your heart
A situation in turn to make its mark
A split between a COOP board
Voices, but no one wants too be heard
Cooperators all in the middle
It seems conflict sounding more like an instrumental fiddle
It’s apparent to change wants to become rearrange
A change to corrupt one’s mind
A format of agenda’s combined
But like I said, “Tomorrow casts over”
A reversed agenda established through the cooperator cover
The whole idea of dictatorship is over
A new day of that sustaining breeze
Breathing in opportunity and feeling at ease
Turmoil needing establishment of the beauty of freedom
Reality once lived with a new chapter to give
Tomorrow has risen from endless ashes
Today having a better understanding
Having the governed mind with a voice forever sustaining.
Feb 10, 2015
Feb 10, 2015 at 8:35 PM UTC
Thou, the bequeather of this birth to death,
In whom thou exhale human existence;
Born from suckling to thy laying of wreath,
None will exist without thine own essence.
Like a winding stairway on lone twisted aisle,
Ascending as stream of crystal rays unknown;
From whence within every mile will worth the while,
Or every turn a test to trump on its own.
Through thy shadowy paths of this sojourn,
Whence thy fate must embrace her scripted end;
From thence thy dim at dawn from morn will mourn,
When death's dark depth will be thine to descend.
Why hast thou begotten thine humanity?
Whom on her own knows not what tomorrow holds;
Save this moment, not whence lies eternity,
Waiting to unfold wonders yon yet untold...
But only in thee, O' life is reality known;
My past, like morning dew forever faded away,
But my now I must walk and own; never to disown,
To that future I'm fated to venture into faraway...
And when this yond my stairs appear no more,
Whence immortality becomes as reality;
Will my soul, eternity swallows in her allure,
Or in pain of purgatory; or perpetual insanity?
May 19, 2016
May 19, 2016 at 4:22 AM UTC
And where drops the feet, a mild scintillation
Springs in the splash of the puddle here
And there and ‘yond the lawn
Reaching for the vindication
Of gun wrappers, ‘butts, and other
Brazen trash on the damp mulch.
Yet, these rains cry down with passion
Found not but in the ***** of home
—From very far away
—And very much alone
This seed of refuse, fertility yet sown
Sprouts the vine of rebellious fruits
Sneaking serpentine to the edge of the blazing sun
Embracing the split-wood and claiming
The hedge-proper its own.
And though you can’t cry
The world does it for you
Its tears made a forest so much higher
Than I; in meadows pert
You’ll show me a locket
Trodden in dirt, I’ll show you a flower that grew in the hurt
And grows to the top, the burgeon-trees lead
From one, little piece of trash
From one refuse seed.
Apr 16, 2014
Apr 16, 2014 at 7:35 AM UTC