Gord
2016-06-30 12:00 am
Ire of the God that creates, Pasty hands, adoration of the fans, And regret of a moving caste, Published spine of too much paste, Toiled upon by uninitiated masons. Cannot we end this race? Show tolerance instead of patience? Forget the genocide of ideals, Lest we deal in inaccurate traits.
0 Mary Steffen
2016-06-20 12:00 am
Golden star shines on Days shine on You are rising star
Mary Steffen
2016-06-11 12:00 am
Stallion run Land of free Out having all fun
Mary Steffen
2016-06-10 12:00 am
Going on and on Reach for stars Reaching for future
James Williamson
2016-06-09 12:00 am
Crystal eyes. By:James Williamson Pierce through me with your crystal eyes. Look deep down to my shame and to all things hidden. Allow me only my breath, Inhale and exhale. We will test our limits, as perspiration on my face begins to glisten. You are my lonesome shadow, the dagger between my breast plate causing unforseen pain, yet If pulled out results in my demise. So look deep my dear past my darkness, fears and hatred.See my heart, cradle it so maybe it will become like you, vulnerable and crystallize.
James Williamson
2016-06-09 12:00 am
The spirit of a stallion. By:James Williamson A wandering spirit lives in me, no board or brick may be my home. With the soul of a stallion, through this world I will forever roam. Consisting of a two stallion band, only me and my lack of trust. We run towards the unknown future, followed closely behind by regretful memories and clouds of dust. My shadow is my mistress, the world is my wife. She is where my heart lies, and when I am tired of running, she will take my life. Until then I will drink from the sea, and gaze into oceans of black. From the world my heart emerged, and when it beats for her no more, she will submerge it back. My spirit is a stallion, forever running until I ache. A thousand times in this life, my brittle heart will shatter. Yet solid remains my soul, that no one can ever break.
Mary Steffen
2016-06-08 12:00 am
summer beginnings world changes within our soul a new tomorrow
The Sophist
2016-05-26 12:00 am
Deep in the forest Between pleasure and pain Screams are so violent Yet silence remains How often do you think of me? Or remember my name? Am I just a memory? Or do you ever think of me? Stridently hopeless Lotso' talk about games Stammers to silence There it goes again again How often do you think of me? Or remember my name? Am I just a memory? Or do you even think of me all? Tomorrow, if you picture it; Another chance to witness someone else's bliss And envy it And live your life in envying Green both in your mind and in your skin Clad in purple cloth worn to protect your sins And mourn the loss of love you stitched into it Around me I see Ghosts of a memory Smoke in the air I breathe A complete lack of energy Dogmatic discomfort Dogmatic disbelief Friends crushing my dreams Becoming the enemy I'm Building a fortress To honor my name To scream at the silence To wander in pain To wonder in fantasy Living each day the same Do you ever think of me? Or am I just a memory? Deep in the forest Between pleasure and pain Screams are so violent Yet silence remains How often do you think of me? Or remember my name? Am I just a memory? Or did you ever think of me at all?
Frederick Okonneh
2016-05-13 12:00 am
I sit out in the early morning sun, watching children play and run. Soon the kids all gather round one, that sets my eye in movement to none. She laughs and raises them to the sky, my eyes are glued on her. She gives them names and teaches them games, my eyes are glued on her. She leaves the young wild souls to play and goes to get the horses' hay, I leave my seat and follow still, as though i asked her to lead the way. She feeds the horse and turns around to see me watching between the doors. She smiles and sunrays glow her eyes, my eyes are glued on her.
Justan Mitchell
2016-05-10 12:00 am
Child Support Fun! I'm making payments aligned with divine arrangements that make clear the destiny of what's well know, established and fair. This morning's depth of fresh air has me positive with cheer, without fear of who is here in love or just there, as a shell of mere existence. I once sat underneath the Bodhi tree, the place I've always longed to be, for long centuries. Way before Amiri strummed along while rhyming; like mother and father, now son doing some shining! He even dances to the beat of his own inner drum a well mixed conundrum, only confusing to none. I gladly make these payments in fair arrangement until my arrears are done. Child Support Fun!! Dangerous Soul Life
Justan Mitchell
2016-05-05 12:00 am
Is There One? One shall arise from the midst of these, yes these, these little ones who have watched their parents hung, strung as ornaments on trees, yes these even, in 2016. Then their are those without future hopes due to broken homes, these that have been led my mainstreams, instead of being led to mend broken bones, these that say "keep you voice in tone". But I say fear no the word alone. For when through the spiritual you roam, the heart, mind, body and soul will fill gaping holes, allowing pens to flow freely into places that pencils can't go. But then there are these who pose, posing in a still stance engulfed with frowns of hatred because they just don't understand and so their actions scream, "HEAL THIS BROKEN LAND!!!" And this has become their native tongue, crying out for the guidance of the ONE! Please is there one? Look into the eyes of those that have died before the age of five, those that wear hearts of black and blue art, with mental repetitious records rapidly playing the age old song why,why,why? Why do we experience sacrifice before we experience life? Like Christ? Why such a cost for these before they learn t be at ease? Maybe, maybe the world is impregnated by crazy and is on the verge of raising yet another baby? Maybe, maybe the man in the mirror reflects hatred because he hates himself? Maybe, maybe he can't accept kindness because he's been denied the knowledge of his own true weath, the knowledge his own true self. And then there are these who are lost without cares dragging along the heaviest wear and tear, with the deadliest raging flare, but tarry not along the road of destruction, because destruction is in the eye of the beholder, but the beholder beholding many self inflicted wounds and self inflicted wounds can easily spell doom! And then there are these who are serving high stations that need fine replacements! These that have been exposed by their blood drenched tongue, that on self unknowingly and knowingly told. Yes we know these. But sometimes and even one times these can be we. And now I see many spirits lost in the overwhelming shadows of IT'S beaming light, spirits claiming underdeveloped knowing as the source of their plight, and so it hurts me to SEE, Yet even still one shall arise from the midst of these yes these, these little ones who have watched the parents hung strung as ornaments on trees, One such as me. Is there one? Dangerous Soul Life Justan "Potential" Mitchell
Gord
2016-05-04 12:00 am
Tomorrow is a forever away, Lifelong insinuations of lame, Necessary arterial plague, Eventually he dies of it. If he asked for the sauce, Not just brought up on it, Did asked for the judgement? Or just to live?
Justan Mitchell
2016-05-04 12:00 am
When my peripheral vision glanced at her she did not resemble the Queen of my dreams, not the Cleopatra whose footprints roamed across my back. Instead she painted her own impression upon me. And due to her own flare, I've grown tense to taste her plate of truth or dare. If you have not gathered the info yet, her Irish sunset over Germany before her floral scent approached me. Then I looked and her twinkle with a smile seductively manipulated the process to be hooked. And I am not speaking of the kind of love that "fictional" novels boast. In noticing her high esteem I could not retrieve in memory, surroundings that clearly reflected my wantings. Never to resemble a member of my mental figures of infinite atmospheres, and it is now clear, she was waiting just two steps to the right in the mid of night at a club for those who write. The next lesson is the next blessing, and I think she likes me too! But I'm not speaking of the kind of love that boast lust or that funny feeling from romance novels, not even the wish one makes as "Jeanine" awakes from her bottle. I am writing this for you. Your artistry equates to what my heart's song translates, and I can relate. The Proof of your mental weight has positive potential packed in places beyond superficial positions of great! All of this and I still can't pronounce your name, which leads me to say that I'm and glad my dreams have already been played way out across the intricate workings of Nature's space. And our collective destiny has been predetermined so what will becomes of it, is what we add to IT. Oh and by the way it is nice to know that chocolate is still love and that spirits still connect and grow, yes it is nice to know. Justan "Potential" Justan Mitchell Dangerous Soul Life
Justan Mitchell
2016-05-03 12:00 am
Blue Beyond The Grey I sit and wander as I wonder what will the rest of the gloomy, yet blue beyond the grey may bring my way. I hope to be like the eagle with fully spread wings. And with rain, hail, snow or earth quake I'm ready to challenge what challenges the day brings. And I think she might like me today. And tomorrows mystery will be the adventure of it's time. The things I must endure others have endured by my many mishaps for over 30 years. So I'll be patient as I sit here and wander, wondering what the rest of today's gloomy, yet blue beyond the grey, will bring my way. Justan Mitchell Dangerous Soul Life
Justan Mitchell
2016-05-01 12:00 am
Dangerous Soul-life... Free to be ME Poetic Universe I seee you are designing a fallen fatality for me, a generational king with a heavenly line of royalty, a legacy that born in me. And in that you must have seen in my predetermined destiny. Now I see clearly what you must have already seen and that's why you can't be truthful shaitan my frienemy? And the lies you tell to swell the minds of those in power, those who seek to devour, me me me And yes in deed it is all about me, selfish recovery. I'm on the plane and I need the mask to save myself first then Amiri, my born leader, ruler, prince, and future KING! My first and only biological seed. The boy in the mirror is reflecting me. When I was five I began to die and now that I've risen they still ask the age old question why, because I lied first and the result was others took advantage. Now I'm again in love, but this time it's with me myself and I. The man's reflection when I stand at the edge of flowing streams, tells me that this man is ok and he loves what he sees, Looking back so calmly without the use of nicotine, intoxicating drinks or weed, medicinally or recreationally. Yes I'm free I'm free I'm free to be to be ME. Poetic Universe. Dangerous soul-life...
The Sophist
2016-04-27 12:00 am
Lamenting the loss of colour Youths clamor at discomfort Accosted, encumbered All my life A series of numbers Fumbling afterthoughts of others Dudes stammering and sunburnt Call lost in the dark wood Flames alight A series of numbers Defining the cost of squalor Tomes hammer where mallets weren't None fumbled, nothing learned Say it right A serious slumber Prevented from dreaming color
Gord
2016-04-21 12:00 am
She cries to me able, Drying the the river fate, Dangling the carrot, An I to blame for position? Managing to hear it, I feel. Tragic for her stable condition. Merely I write transitions, Love letters of insinuation, Lasting forever, Boxed beneath a house of chatham.
Gord
2016-04-15 12:00 am
Oil as he lays his hands, Welts as he removes, He understands. Feeding the toll booth to greet the man as he arrives naked, Telling him to hide his shamefulness. He wins.
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