"zeal" poems
That time being nation's condition worse
For all to exist in yoke motherland seemed
to be curse
Having country's onus on youths to freed
So swear to intent freedom theirs' mind
vivid
With full enthusiasm, excitation and zeal
Everyone gone for country's wound to heal
Having all that time the same intent
Anyone who felt country's screaming of
******* present!
Nov 14, 2014
Nov 14, 2014 at 8:36 AM UTC
No sprouted wheat and soya shoots
And Brussels in a cake,
Carrot straw and spinach raw,
(Today, I need a steak).
Not thick brown rice and rice pilaw
Or mushrooms creamed on toast,
Turnips mashed and parsnips hashed,
(I'm dreaming of a roast).
Health-food folks around the world
Are thinned by anxious zeal,
They look for help in seafood kelp
(I count on breaded veal).
No smoking signs, raw mustard greens,
Zucchini by the ton,
Uncooked kale and bodies frail
Are sure to make me run
to
***** of pork and chicken thighs
And standing rib, so prime,
Pork chops brown and fresh ground round
(I crave them all the time).
Irish stews and boiled corned beef
and hot dogs by the scores,
or any place that saves a space
For smoking carnivores.
21.8k
My skin illuminates your body with my touch,
your body quaking from the rush.
My aching ***** -- eager with lust,
paying dutiful attention to your pearly gates.
With zeal they await,
to invade your presence with my grace.
filling split with my space.
in one fulfilling embrace.
Your tender folds aroused,
enclose my arousal.
swollen with desire,
swallow me whole like a mouthful.
legs spread -- wide open and exposed.
your plush lips,
blush with lust.
as your body erupts.
Jun 17, 2015
Jun 17, 2015 at 11:56 PM UTC
I have a message
For you haters
You're the wreckage
Your words like razors
No longer shall I keel
To your decimating attitude
I have an intransigent zeal
Of undeniable magnitude
Your reign of terror
Now a speck in the past
Your puppet strings I sever
Now free I feel, at last
I dare you, I dare you
Try to cut me down
But be warned, I will strew
Your face all over the ground
No longer am i afraid.
All the hated, it's time to stand
All the haters, it's time to be repaid
No more worries, just grains of sand
The tides now change
Deny them their satisfaction
Their power has no range
Haters, this is your termination
Apr 23, 2014
Apr 23, 2014 at 8:03 AM UTC
I have a sickness,
which is contagious,
spreading with quickness,
which is outrageous.
Every person I look upon,
is struck with the feelings of hate,
soon these feelings will be gone,
as someone else carries this weight.
Is there a cure for what I feel?
Must i react with such zeal?
May 19, 2014
May 19, 2014 at 6:48 PM UTC
She saw the world through a camera lens
And that's just how it was
With filters and Glares from strangers
Who didn't feel the sun
She took photos of the rain
And dewdrops on the grass
Of smiling warm faces
And things that were just crass
She dreamt of her pictures
Under bylines and over books
Her documents of others
Filled with stills that could speak words
She took pictures of her girl
Who was black and blue in depth
Who wanted to be colored
But her filter shown red
She captured her in pain
And in her rare bright smiles
She told her that things
"Just take a while"
She made portfolios and scrapbooks
Of their adventures and their muse
She never knew that her girl would take her life
At a quarter after two
She cried and cried weeks to days
Until the tears just stopped
When she took a photo of the rain
And felt her sadness drop
It shattered all around the floor
And she fumbled with the keys
She printed all the pictures
And posted them with ease
She scattered them around the town
Then fell down to rest
For she could feel a burden being
Lifted off her chest
she went to the school
Of the boy who had hurt her
And her girl
She stood up
She told them
"Has she finally done enough?
She ripped her skin with blades
And fasted for days.
She lit skin on fire
Just because you are liars.
Look at this picture
Do you see her
Look mister
She was beautiful
Yet you made her feel
Like she was void of zeal
You're the ones who told her what to do
And she took her own life
Just like you told her to do.
Are you happy now!
Or are you feeling blue
Are you regretting what you told her to do!"
And with a single crack
Of a baseball bat
she took a picture
Of there bodies cracked shells
As she plumbed them to hell
She saw that red filter
And she felt the pain inside
She could feel herself laugh
Mania arise
The she took one final shot
A picture with the the two
Then killed herself to rise anew
And she got her picture under bylines
And became famous for her art
For everyone loves the artist
Who kills for their art.
May 20, 2014
May 20, 2014 at 5:36 AM UTC
I passed a small boy named Solomon Woods
deep in thought with a book
He licked a finger, turned a page
too engrossed to give me a look
I met a young lad named Solomon Woods
humming a gentle tune
He smiled and waved, shook my hand
and wished me a good afternoon
I danced with a friend named Solomon Woods
while he sang me one of his songs
What he lacked in skill he offset with zeal
and insisted I sang along
I sat with a man named Solomon Woods
glad of his still, gentle manner
His reliable smile and kind wise words
drowned out the usual clamour
I walked with a gent named Solomon Woods
glad of his confident stride
I knew for sure he faced the world
trusting God as his strength and guide
If you meet a man named Solomon Woods
he'll certainly stop for a while
If you have the time, he'll sing you a song
and leave you with a smile
Jan 28, 2018
Jan 28, 2018 at 4:39 PM UTC
On the ferris wheel we steal a kiss,
careless zeal, no bits amiss,
slip into this, mind and timelessness,
twist wrist, spit lip like starshine, crisp.
Down below the kids get lit,
ripped,
hair wind flipped out,
broke mouths sip doubt,
shout fire-light, ice pout,
grown out the hometown,
grown loud, a fun crowd,
one's got the know how,
the others got the low down,
one shot the sheriff,
then the others hit the ground.
When he shot the sheriff
he kneeled,
we saw it from the ferris wheel.
Mar 7, 2014
Mar 7, 2014 at 3:33 PM UTC
whenever word fails...
silence prevails...
listen to tis
alluring echo of
unsaid
and unspoken
not ears
but...
only heart
can feel....
this everlasting zeal..!
Nov 29, 2014
Nov 29, 2014 at 9:34 AM UTC
♦ ♦ ♦
She was an earnest devotée.
Her ideals, birthed in Chardonnay
were globally diverse (read: white).
A liberal bark preceded bite.
Her crystal clearer than her vision;
she provoked bemused derision
as she breathed intolerance
toward all who would not dance her dance.
She swooned for distant pagan tribes,
attuned to their exotic vibes –
rapt in multi-culti piety
strangely deaf to her own society,
judged by her as abomination;
unredeemed. The background station
always stuck on N.P.R.
(the soundtrack of her culture war,
Pacifica News and Democracy Nows,
and other progressive holy cows)
Her motherland a shameful mystery:
guilty first, and void of history –
its origins defiled, corrupted…
while she enjoyed uninterrupted
freedom to pursue her whims:
misguided one-world global hymns.
The sisterhood of hu(man) kind
was foremost in her earnest mind –
even should that same sisterhood
be sealed by her well-meaning blood.
Out on a date with global death
she hoped to unify the earth
in solidarity with causes
led by killers, warlord bosses,
thugs she never knew existed
who, if she’d met she’d have resisted.
Her theory landed far from her praxis
spun, by default, on an evil axis.
Hot with zeal she fumed and stormed
quite certain she was well-informed,
at benefits, non-profit functions
rallies, boycotts, left-wing luncheons;
warm with righteous spite for Israel,
aiding and abetting Ishmael
with fellow-travelers, like-minded
similarly hateful, blinded,
rattling sabers, scimitars, axes…
(lunacy never wanes, but waxes
hotter with the passing years
as activists confront their fears).
She finally shilled for the Intifada
(stopping short of reciting Shahada),
reaching out to the terrorist
with righteous raised progressive fist…
offering thus her neck to blade:
collateral to be repaid
by murderers who couldn’t care less
about her open-mindedness.
Sep 9, 2015
Sep 9, 2015 at 9:57 PM UTC
We love our motherland like our mother
We are gallant sons of our pure chaste soil
Our love is our anchor our faith is armor
We work for its glory we never stop to toil
We tackle with all the enemies of God
We will send them to their ultimate end
Life as we aspired is very tough and hard
To live head high is our ultimate trend
Life is what a gift for beloved country
We celebrate death with zeal and fervor
Defense of our motherland is a valid plea
Every heinous crime we have to answer
Salute to motherland from gallant sons
Long live my mother land till the last day
Our lethal actions are like lethal guns
Love for motherland is never ending ray
Col Muhammad Khalid Khan
Copyright 2016 Golden Glow
Oct 31, 2016
Oct 31, 2016 at 3:03 AM UTC
In the dimly lit chamber, we set the scene.
An owner and his pet, a game of primal and prey.
She kneels like an eager dog, a collar around her neck.
He stomps his feet and keeps her obedience at play.
The owner, like a magician, keeps tricks up his sleeve.
He wants his pet to learn— to be his student and please.
Commanding her to crawl, to fetch and beg.
Waiting for him to call her a good little pet.
She barks and whimpers, a puppy in passion.
Spins three times and licks her master’s feet without a whine.
The pet surrenders to her master’s might.
She delivers his sturdy leather boots in a straight line.
With a flick of the whip, the pet curls in elation.
Her master chuckles at her sounds of temptation.
Submitting to the cynicism of ******* and discipline.
She is flogged like a plebeian, forgetting she’s a citizen.
Pet and master, a bond so strong.
The two are bound by zeal, craving one another.
She wallows in the comfort of her belly rubs and treats.
And runs around with a rush of red in color.
She goes through treacherous training.
And yelps if she’s ever caught complaining.
Waiting for a tasteful gift: the eternity collar.
When she is ready, he puts it on with honor.
Jun 16, 2024
Jun 16, 2024 at 6:25 PM UTC
Is burrowing a web
weaving a collection,
accumulating an anthology
For a far gone day
Stash them away
set them aside with a
what, when, why
rather than right
now ambitious zeal
discoverable.
findability.
Its the nature of the undertaking.
My minds an unavoidable reciprocal
Gratified by wasting time,
It’s just there filling space
Tucked away for a rainy day
In every nook and cranny
Tickling the fancy.
Affording a kind of intellectual gusto
that's borderline deplorable
accumulatively downright trifling.
Nonetheless,
even if it's unnecessary
I'll never get my fill
paper to hand typing away
uncovering all of life's mysteries
Oct 14, 2017
Oct 14, 2017 at 10:09 AM UTC
i love your laugh
all your little quirks
the cute nicknames you’ve given me
and our late night confessions
but i don’t want to
because one moment
i feel euphoric
and the next
i don’t even know
who you are
you are not my sunrise
or my brisk winter day
this constant turmoil
of zeal and distain
is too much for me to bear
sticks and stones
may break my bones,
but you will always
hurt the most
May 10, 2013
May 10, 2013 at 6:41 PM UTC
Oh! Rama you are the most virtuous
You are the eldest son of king Dasaratha’s
You always stood by your word
You are the greatest man in the world
Your wife Sita is the most pious woman
Your step mother kaika asked your father for a boon
She asked you to go to the forest
She refused your father’s request
You obliged your father’s promise
He grieved to lose your loving kiss
Along with your chaste wife
In forest you spent fourteen years’ strenuous life
Brother Lakshmana shared your strife
He cut demon shurphanaka’s nose with a knife
The demon Ravana came in disguise
Sita fell a prey to his vice
He abducted her to his kingdom
Sita was deprived of her freedom
You wept for Sita like a man
Trials and tribulations are very common
You made friends with Lord Hanuman
He was undoubtedly a super man
He flew to Ravana”s kingdom
And relieved Sita”s boredom
He assured her Rama would **** the demon
Because He was supra human
In the fierce fight
You were too great for his sight
Ravana fell down in the battle field
Sita was freed from his yield
You were crowned king
Many songs did the people sing
We celebrate your birth day with religious zeal
All our troubles you will seal
By JVL NARASIMHA RAO
Dec 25, 2010
Dec 25, 2010 at 7:12 PM UTC
At the end of the day when I'm spent and expired,
and all energy has clocked out and retired.
I long for your warmth and tender embrace,
my weary eyes to rest upon your face.
A caretaker that without I cannot thrive.
I don't need you to live, but to make me alive. Alive
I can change the world with what you help me to feel.
You are fuel and rest, rejuvenation, zeal.
When my strength is gone and my mind is drifting to sleep,
know that my last few thoughts my mind struggles to keep,
are of you and my family that share my name,
and lastly, how soon they will be one and the same.
I love you. Goodnight.
Aug 28, 2015
Aug 28, 2015 at 2:41 PM UTC
I sit here and I begin to ponder
Upon the past and grow with wonder
How quickly, how the tides doth turn
And green take over that once was burned
To see the change so quick, and stark
And so again, will I soon embark
Upon a path that leads me where
I do not know, though take this dare
I’ve learned so far that life is not
What I have hoped, my thoughts begot
Anticipation is what I feel
Embrace the future with honest zeal
There is so much that I must learn
To know this I have hoped to earn
So much, I know, I do not know
Tis arrogance, ego that is my foe
Open my mind, I ask from Thee
So that I may learn to be finally free
Of past transgressions and hurt and pain
I hope and pray, shall I never again
To feel lost in spirit with none to hold
In reverence, in awe, in all truth be told
Much more I see, this life for me
Let go of the chains I may be free
To see with eyes not dark with cloud
And ears to hear the cries aloud
I turn my head and I look behind
One glimpse, just one, and I know I’ll find
That I have let go to what is past
And find the future, my heart at last
Nov 15, 2012
Nov 15, 2012 at 12:15 PM UTC
I promise to love you with all my heart.
I promise to stay & never part.
To love you, to hold you, be there in times of need.
For you to promise the same to me, I plead.
My promise, my oath, my vows I have spoken.
Promises made, promises never broken.
I promise to laugh in times of pleasure.
When you are sad I'll comfort you in full measure.
I promise to give you all that you desire.
I promise my love for you will never tire.
My promise, my oath, my vows I have spoken.
Promises made, promises never broken.
I promise to you I'll devote my whole life.
I promise to make myself your perfect wife.
I promise to you my zeal and devotion.
My feeling, affection, sentiments & emotion.
My promise, my oath, my vows I have spoken.
Promises made, promises never broken.
A happy, successful family we will raise.
I promise to provide for my children always.
My time, my love, my understanding
I promise to give when problems need handling.
So now, to you I've given my word -
My assurance, my pledge and bestowal you've heard.
Will you promise the same to me?
Please give me your heartfelt testimony.
Your promise, your oath, your vows let be spoken.
Promises made, but never ever broken.
© 1992
Jul 3, 2012
Jul 3, 2012 at 10:19 PM UTC
Thunder and pain,
Feeling the rain.
Waiting for salvation,
In a night of starvation.
Brightening the dark sky,
The lightning, fly by.
Why i so feel?
It will make me heal.
Giving self a justification,
For every piece of action.
If it is wrong or right,
Who is to decide?
There is nothing to gain,
Life will eventually drain.
In the moment of despair,
Let hope, make it repair.
Like a thunder in the clouds,
Break through every bounds.
Like the sound of the light,
Keep the zeal to fight.
Your thirst will be quenched,
Thunder will give you the strength...
May 24, 2015
May 24, 2015 at 5:39 AM UTC
A hymn to paired planethood: Venus hits Pluto
as death, in cold orbit, collides with biology
smashing to fragments: demonic astrology
(more a black hole than a love-star, it’s true though).
Cynical cure for Eve’s womanly grievance
Concupiscent consequence: lust’s bitter fruit –
ah the thought… changing Sin into mere inconvenience.
Margaret sang her seductive refrain
about weeding the garden and progress and light.
Her sisters should view her with scornful disdain
but instead have adopted her murderous rite.
With sang-froid she promoted her racist eugenics
(as if she had never herself been a fetus),
condemning her heirs to postmodern polemics
while nurturing ardent desires to defeat us.
Suppressing the lives that she flushed down the drain
she would liberate Death – and resistance was vain.
As a midwife to modern life (though on the “anti” side)
Old Matron Margie racked up quite a legacy
singing the praises of sanctioned infanticide
calling the shots for the coming sick century.
Planning, quite calmly, to “cleanse” certain races
her zeal was empowered by murderous graces.
She labored to bring us such pearls of subduction:
“dilation and curettage”, “women’s autonomy”
“viable fetus”, “procedure”, a “suction”
Hippocrates retches to hear the taxonomy;
words that turn Life into mere reproduction.
She enters the realms of the ****** and the motherless
roundly condemned by her feminine otherness.
Man’s first protection: the God-given womb
which no infant should have to regard as their tomb.
Dismembered dark cherubs, assembling, greet her
as demons (in scrubs) holding baby-parts meet her.
Long may she burn with the medical cynics
this mother of Moloch, this founder of clinics.
Convenience is king when abortion’s the Queen
and the profits swell big with each nubile teen…
yet the fruit of such carnage remains to be seen.
I send her this song as a funeral wreath
and a card inked in blood. You may read what is there:
“To the Matrix Supreme of our culture of death
from the souls of the infants you slew on the earth.
May your torment increase with the children you bear.”
Sep 10, 2015
Sep 10, 2015 at 9:09 PM UTC
*by Augustus M. Toplady
(1740-1778)*
Rock of Ages, cleft for me,
Let me hide myself in Thee;
Let the water and the blood,
From Thy wounded side which flowed,
Be of sin the double cure,
Save from wrath and make me pure.
Not the labor of my hands
Can fulfill Thy law’s demands;
Could my zeal no respite know,
Could my tears forever flow,
All for sin could not atone;
Thou must save, and Thou alone.
Nothing in my hand I bring,
Simply to Thy cross I cling;
Naked, come to Thee for dress;
Helpless, look to Thee for grace;
Foul, I to the fountain fly;
Wash me, Savior, or I die.
While I draw this fleeting breath,
When my eyes shall close in death,
When I rise to worlds unknown,
And behold Thee on Thy throne,
Rock of Ages, cleft for me,
Let me hide myself in Thee.
~ Augustus M. Toplady
Jul 27, 2017
Jul 27, 2017 at 3:35 PM UTC
He was the ‘revealer of light’
Oracles he read, forecasted future,
Time moved, rustic life stood still
"Look back and see, there is change."
There’s no trial left
The deity acquired the ****** body.
Predictions are vague, he cried in pain
And he danced to his unshakable faith.
The God revealed!
The divine and man in a union of its own,
Patrons wept and asked for blessings.
Serpent’s crown over God’s head-
Shone in the dark light, his golden breast
And pointed teeth, sharp as arrows-
Pierced the patrons, they collapsed in devotion.
The dead hero arose with Godliness
He is God, his blood is divine.
There is change, there is change!
The drums arose and it stroke bold,
Patrons cried in religious zeal
The God plunged himself into the bonfire
He reincarnated.
Born again to die again! Born again to die again!
There is no change! There is no change!
Sep 3, 2015
Sep 3, 2015 at 11:38 AM UTC
After I graduated, I thought about two things,
I’m certified, I am now apart of “the people”,
(And)
All I have to do is make a choice and I’ll find success,
Gave it my best, “no test?”; I had to teach,
No stress, I had to be,
The O next to the V,
The ego; “which is me”
(Wait)
V+V=4, it’s a six thing; you know love without the zeas,
But with the zeal; well; Overcoming Variables was never a test,
-Or a problem; I speak geometry, I took 2D, made it 3D, and that was simultaneously; how could I not be the best…
(What is a, reiteration?)
Two lovers, Zodiac signs,
Balanced is equivalent to love,
Be here, focus on now,
Now look up the meaning of dove…
If you think linear, you saw the O next to the V,
If you think like me, you saw the six steps in between,
I had to put my ego beside me or else I couldn’t teach,
That only happened because I met a woman who was a reflection of me,
It literally was a zodiac thing, that type of thing sparked protection with/in me;
There’s no uncertainty in my reality; I’m certainly certain,
I don’t see nature Changing,
I see people Loopin,
“Why” the (people) Shooting;
Their mind: This isn’t Workin;
Knowing for a fact; the solution occurs during the attempt; in working,
(Cliff Swallow); People Symbolism;
Outcome, United is; if chirping…
Well… I’m just saying (it) worked,
Because I no longer have belief; I’m a knower,
I mastered Mind, no need to grow up,
Please don’t say –“show us the-”-because the waves not for us,
If for is four, I’m removing it; not us;
Notice; Not Only That, Us…
It’s time to meditate,
Breathe and wait;
Losing all my words; like I had no say,
I’ve been a wave cause I flow with waaaves,
Change is who I am… I’ll reiterate;
By 7th grade,
I was late,
Happiness was mad; I had to elevate,
When I graduate (-ed),
Thought: “I couldn’t make “it””
Happiness was sad; that’s why I elevated,
Didn’t have a voice; that’s why I hesitated,
Now I have no voice because I -
Jul 19, 2018
Jul 19, 2018 at 9:07 PM UTC
(from a song)
Perhaps I was born kneeling,
born coughing on the long winter,
born expecting the kiss of mercy,
born with a passion for quickness
and yet, as things progressed,
I learned early about the stockade
or taken out, the fume of the enema.
By two or three I learned not to kneel,
not to expect, to plant my fires underground
where none but the dolls, perfect and awful,
could be whispered to or laid down to die.
Now that I have written many words,
and let out so many loves, for so many,
and been altogether what I always was?
a woman of excess, of zeal and greed,
I find the effort useless.
Do I not look in the mirror,
these days,
and see a drunken rat avert her eyes?
Do I not feel the hunger so acutely
that I would rather die than look
into its face?
I kneel once more,
in case mercy should come
in the nick of time.
4.8k
So many curious faces I see.
Inquiring eyes fixed on me.
As if trying hard to guess.
why always I speak so less?
In the office and in bazaar.
They wonder who my friends are?
Every time they spot me alone.
Doubt if I am kind of stone.
With them no ebullience, no zeal.
In their company so lonely I feel.
Whether sitting or on a walk.
Always worldly and shallow talk.
But all who think I am lonely stone.
Let me inform I am never alone.
Loneliness is my best friend.
With him quality time I spend.
Nov 25, 2014
Nov 25, 2014 at 11:28 AM UTC