Pen'D Poem: October November 3 - 9
Spittin That Dream
Inside this once little girl now fully grown perceived woman…
Where I can still see the great and inner dream…
Behind the great veil which holds the inner seams …
The inner vision of my own creator’s creation developed so intricately
The mental stimulation where I dance freely
Unified openly with all that is,
Inside of me where I can see divinity …
Personified rotations of my own personalized paintings
creating within my serenity…
Held breathless against the crashing seas…
Bold and yet beautifully transpired inside my own imaginations…
Energized experiences released in verbal accordance manifested now into
my reality…
Inhaling life as I breathe thankfully…
Spoken power that is moved from inside by my faith…
A dream of connection that fortifies through all that surrounds…
Eternal liberations…
Settled inside perceptions of Positive reinforcement …
Where Love lifts me now into universal heights of truth that stands
unwavering…
Where Placements of peace perpetuate, soothe and release.
Conforming the kingdom within…
Where I can see my own reflection as I stand inside my maker… and my maker inside of me…
Mirrored by Life’s sovereign hands of glory…
Where Inside me it begins to speak
Which now I behold as my own inner creation…
Standing amidst each strand and stroke
I can now internally design…
Metamorphosing now into the physical …
Where now I stand in affirmation...
Humbled honorably by life’s gift
Loves greatest spiritual design…
Careful as I continue to fine detail it
As I pick up the mic and manifest it as I spit..
 |
Connect with Erica Chamlee |
Mutters-Bub
-Mutters-Bub-
Die Nacht beginnt!
Meine Traumphase
ringt mit dem Wachen
und siegt:
,,Mutter-Mama,
ich bin wieder da,
Dein Sohn-Dein Bub...!"
Endlich sind wir wieder:
,,Beisammen!"
,,Schau' nur:
Ich kann wieder Lachen!
,,Weine nicht",
Papa meint es nicht so,
wenn er schimpft.
Er liebt uns bestimmt...!
Sieh' nur:
,,Ein Photo von uns Beiden!"
Sieh:
,,Mein liebliches Gesicht!"
Dein selbstgestrickter
Pullover~
,,Wir sind Eins!"
Meine dicken-roten Wangen~
Bin ich noch der Gleiche...?
Im Dorf das ,,Rotkäppchen":
Mein rotes Samtkleid,
rote Basketkappe,
meinen Teddi im Arm:
,,Das bin Ich...!"
Mama, sag' doch was!
Wann kann ich:
,,Wiederkommen...?"
Der Tag erwacht-
Nebel steigt auf!
Schwarze Madonnen
der Nacht:
,,Gebt mich zurück...!"
,,Nach Hause,
zu meiner Mama!"
,,Denn wir sind: Eins-
Sie und Ich!!!"
*Gedicht-/Poem:
Hans-Jürgen Schulz-
(Germany)-
* © by Author-
* Photo:
Hans-Jürgen Schulz-
(1952- 2 Jahre alt)-
* Photo-© by Author
Die Nacht beginnt!
Meine Traumphase
ringt mit dem Wachen
und siegt:
,,Mutter-Mama,
ich bin wieder da,
Dein Sohn-Dein Bub...!"
Endlich sind wir wieder:
,,Beisammen!"
,,Schau' nur:
Ich kann wieder Lachen!
,,Weine nicht",
Papa meint es nicht so,
wenn er schimpft.
Er liebt uns bestimmt...!
Sieh' nur:
,,Ein Photo von uns Beiden!"
Sieh:
,,Mein liebliches Gesicht!"
Dein selbstgestrickter
Pullover~
,,Wir sind Eins!"
Meine dicken-roten Wangen~
Bin ich noch der Gleiche...?
Im Dorf das ,,Rotkäppchen":
Mein rotes Samtkleid,
rote Basketkappe,
meinen Teddi im Arm:
,,Das bin Ich...!"
Mama, sag' doch was!
Wann kann ich:
,,Wiederkommen...?"
Der Tag erwacht-
Nebel steigt auf!
Schwarze Madonnen
der Nacht:
,,Gebt mich zurück...!"
,,Nach Hause,
zu meiner Mama!"
,,Denn wir sind: Eins-
Sie und Ich!!!"
*Gedicht-/Poem:
Hans-Jürgen Schulz-
(Germany)-
* © by Author-
* Photo:
Hans-Jürgen Schulz-
(1952- 2 Jahre alt)-
* Photo-© by Author
[ENGLISH]
the night begins!
My Traumphase
wrestles with the guards
and wins:
" Mutter-Mama ,
I'm back again,
your Sohn-Dein Bub ... !"
Finally, we are again:
"Together!"
',Schau' only:
I can laugh!
"Do not weep", Papa
says this is not the case, if
he swears.
He loves us ... !
You see only: "A
photo of us both!" see
: "My
lovely face!" Your
"home made prolog"
sweater~
"We are one!" My
thick-red cheeks~
I am still the same ... ?
In the village the "Little Red Riding Hood": My
Red Short Velvet, red
Basketkappe,
my Teddi in the arm:
"I am ... !"
Mama, say but what!
When can I:
"Wiederkommen ... ?"
The day awakes,
fog rises to!
Black Madonnas
of the night:
"Give me back ... !" "at
home,
to my mum!"
"Because we are: one -
you and I!!!"
* poem- /poem:
Hans-Jürgen Schulz (
Germany)- *
© by author
* Photo:
Hans-Jürgen Schulz (
1952- 2 years old)- *
Photo-© by author--
My Traumphase
wrestles with the guards
and wins:
" Mutter-Mama ,
I'm back again,
your Sohn-Dein Bub ... !"
Finally, we are again:
"Together!"
',Schau' only:
I can laugh!
"Do not weep", Papa
says this is not the case, if
he swears.
He loves us ... !
You see only: "A
photo of us both!" see
: "My
lovely face!" Your
"home made prolog"
sweater~
"We are one!" My
thick-red cheeks~
I am still the same ... ?
In the village the "Little Red Riding Hood": My
Red Short Velvet, red
Basketkappe,
my Teddi in the arm:
"I am ... !"
Mama, say but what!
When can I:
"Wiederkommen ... ?"
The day awakes,
fog rises to!
Black Madonnas
of the night:
"Give me back ... !" "at
home,
to my mum!"
"Because we are: one -
you and I!!!"
* poem- /poem:
Hans-Jürgen Schulz (
Germany)- *
© by author
* Photo:
Hans-Jürgen Schulz (
1952- 2 years old)- *
Photo-© by author--
My Life as a Human- Entry 201-Love??...
The first time I met you, was through a glass window.
You were crossing the street, trying to catch your bus and beat the rain.
You turned for a brief moment and our eyes...
Our eyes met, and I froze... Time froze.
You were crossing the street, trying to catch your bus and beat the rain.
You turned for a brief moment and our eyes...
Our eyes met, and I froze... Time froze.
And then,
Then you smiled and my heart, my heart...
My heart stopped and I melted into nothingness,
Into swirls of colours,
And dreams,
And visions.
You captured me in one glance and I knew I was yours.
Into swirls of colours,
And dreams,
And visions.
You captured me in one glance and I knew I was yours.
The first time I met you, was through a glass window. You smiled and imprinted my heart with your promise of forever.
I. Am. Yours.
Y. Salmon
Pen'D Poem: October 27 - November 2
#My Life as a Human - Entry #13 - Dreamer's Declaration
I have all this nervous energy coursing through my veins.
I can feel anticipation, anxiety, fear, restlessness...and Serenity?
My mind boggles at the body's capacity to withstand so much at the same time,
in a matter of mere minute seconds, balled up and ready to explode.
How is this possible? Why is it possible?
My mind races, so much to do, so much to get done.
My dreams are no longer secrets, my dreams are no longer 'dreams'.
They have morphed, capsized and regained consciousness.
Life has been breathed...resurrected... I have dreamed, no!
I have breathed (exhales) life into my dreams. Finally.
Finally I am no longer an escape artist. An escapist of my
dreams, of my fears, of failure, of rejection. Finally I am a dreamer
realized. Recognized. No longer hospitalized. No longer imprisoned.
I have done what was once thought impossible. I have set fire to my
dreams.
I have let them out and commanded, no! Demanded, that they roam
free and wide and fierce!
I have declared a revolution on my fears, An Evolution on my Dreams.
I am free. I am free. Finally, I am me.
-Y. Salmon
For more poetry visit
Yan's Labryinth
The Depth
THE DEPTH
So close
in the morning
with the known path.
Where there
are no mountains
where stone turns
into dust.
Where dust
turns to a vapor
in the mist.
So close
on the trail
shadow
in a black coat.
Author: Zoran S. Piljević
From Book NIGHT OF THE HOLY PICTURE
Bleeding
BLEEDING
Eyes bleed
Ever so helpless it seems
Wake me up from this chaotic dream
S
C
R
E
A
M
S
Released
Whispers to the dark
Trying to light a spark
T
R
A
P
P
E
D
As I Flat line
A sign of the end of times
I can do nothing but sigh
D
Y
I
N
G
On this lonely night
Buried in this fright
Searching but cant find the light....
Eyes bleed
Ever so helpless it seems
Wake me up from this chaotic dream
S
C
R
E
A
M
S
Released
Whispers to the dark
Trying to light a spark
T
R
A
P
P
E
D
As I Flat line
A sign of the end of times
I can do nothing but sigh
D
Y
I
N
G
On this lonely night
Buried in this fright
Searching but cant find the light....
Advice from Grandma (Ragamuffin)
My Grandma was Irish, her name was Catherine (Kitty) Kelly and she arrived in NYC in 1902 when she was sixteen--all alone. She had that inbred Irish wisdom many of the Irish have and a wonderful way of communicating it. I remember her vividly as if she were still with me. My memory of the many pearls of wisdom she told me, during the few years I had her, all came in short sentences. I’ve tried to gather them into a sort of poem to the best of my remembrance
I never found out what a ragamuffin was until long after Grandma was gone.
Advice from Grandma
(Ragamuffin)
(Ragamuffin)
Beware of those with their heads below their shoulders,
watch out for the ones with them up in the clouds,
mind those who flatter and disguise what they are about,
keep clear of all deplorable rogues of deception,
you’ll recognize them when they open their mouths.
Trust no one and fear the worst that can happen,
beware of lingering louts over your left shoulder,
find the object of your flame of passion,
hold on tight and continue to grow bolder.
If you’re a painter go after that masterpiece
a dancer? then tango across your map of life
or sing your song whatever it be, loud and clear
let it ring all the way to down-under from here.
When you’ve married sometime off in the future
and committed yourself to the one you’ll call dear
your children shall be your grandest gifts from nature
They’re yours for a moment keep them from fear
cherish their lives encourage and nurture
Try not to splinter when the thunder claps,
banish your shyness don’t cut with your rage
or get drowned in the tide of fanciful traps
but play your music and fill up your page.
Some things are precious don’t take them lightly
empathy and love are paramount for the soul
keep your heart open let it shine brightly
without these things the spirit will wither and fold
bestow of them freely beginning today
love is the most difficult to give away
if you do these things the most scrumptious passions
will all come rumbling and tumbling your way
and you will be fine my little ragamuffin.
“What’s a ragamuffin, Grandma?”
Copyright 2012 Dennis John Ferado
watch out for the ones with them up in the clouds,
mind those who flatter and disguise what they are about,
keep clear of all deplorable rogues of deception,
you’ll recognize them when they open their mouths.
Trust no one and fear the worst that can happen,
beware of lingering louts over your left shoulder,
find the object of your flame of passion,
hold on tight and continue to grow bolder.
If you’re a painter go after that masterpiece
a dancer? then tango across your map of life
or sing your song whatever it be, loud and clear
let it ring all the way to down-under from here.
When you’ve married sometime off in the future
and committed yourself to the one you’ll call dear
your children shall be your grandest gifts from nature
They’re yours for a moment keep them from fear
cherish their lives encourage and nurture
Try not to splinter when the thunder claps,
banish your shyness don’t cut with your rage
or get drowned in the tide of fanciful traps
but play your music and fill up your page.
Some things are precious don’t take them lightly
empathy and love are paramount for the soul
keep your heart open let it shine brightly
without these things the spirit will wither and fold
bestow of them freely beginning today
love is the most difficult to give away
if you do these things the most scrumptious passions
will all come rumbling and tumbling your way
and you will be fine my little ragamuffin.
“What’s a ragamuffin, Grandma?”
Copyright 2012 Dennis John Ferado
Pen'D Poem: October 20 - 26
The Mortician of Inevitable Immortality
J.V. Stanley
Here I stand upon
the precipice of life and death.
The work slowly molded
within lifetimes of synapses
points,
counterpoints
philosophies
circumventing through tapestries
lain out among stark white sheets.
The end, ever plain and ever so demanding.
I begin my procedure, preservation attuned
to the intricate details of what once was life
bearing fruits of knowledge
transgressions and mishaps
interplayed and poured into volumes
yet not even a lifetime could ever contrive.
I make the incision, intricately following the lines
post-dotted marks of post mortem thought.
It was alive, once…
breathing
against the lungs that cared not to draw breath
until the life was breathed in
and passion breathed out.
I cut away at the flesh, the vocabulary known
is unknown
although the truth is unbeknownst to its maker
and thus I make peace with that as
I watch the letters scrambling about
searching for the exit to make their escape.
Within a smooth red line of liquid crimson
their ballad is somber as some had marched in
the front lines, while others remain hidden within
the cavity.
I have to dig deeper to find them but I,
with fortuned heart at the ready,
reserved the most tender of organs for last.
They find their way down to the drain,
renegade thoughts that found themselves
lapping among the sides with the others
that came before.
For safeguarding is an art,
and justly warranted for the beauty and truth that
must be maintained
for memory’s and posterity’s sake.
I tie the knots, in artery, in place of which
I had bled what others could not.
Exchanged the red with the augmented solution
to the dire consequence of perfection.
But why…why must I do this?
Endure this process of preservation?
Prohibit the spread of volatile prophylaxis,
cutting the coagulating fluid and replacing it
with a subtle filtration system
in order to maintain the glorious intent
of life.
Why must one exert themselves,
struggle with tutelage,
safeguarding that which may become lost within memory
and will eventually hide among the other corpses,
buried
forgotten.
One final glance at the stark white sheet
riddled with splotches of blood sweated
from its creation only to be
then lost within the realm of time?
I preserve this work not for its demise
nor for its fractured existence as it falls
upon eyes that live
and breathe
reincarnating the memory
of a memory-
I prepare for its afterlife.
For with time, it will remain
for once it is finished
it will be as it will be remembered,
always,
even at the final glance as it is laid to rest.
Perfectly preserved wrapped in a blanket of linen
touched with delicate hands
in honor of the beauty of it when it was
a living breathing thought.
I assist in its venture into the next life;
the immortal world of words that live on
through the pages of history-
their mark upon this realm
in constant grace of creative perfection.
©2013 J.V. Stanley
J.V. Stanley
Here I stand upon
the precipice of life and death.
The work slowly molded
within lifetimes of synapses
points,
counterpoints
philosophies
circumventing through tapestries
lain out among stark white sheets.
The end, ever plain and ever so demanding.
I begin my procedure, preservation attuned
to the intricate details of what once was life
bearing fruits of knowledge
transgressions and mishaps
interplayed and poured into volumes
yet not even a lifetime could ever contrive.
I make the incision, intricately following the lines
post-dotted marks of post mortem thought.
It was alive, once…
breathing
against the lungs that cared not to draw breath
until the life was breathed in
and passion breathed out.
I cut away at the flesh, the vocabulary known
is unknown
although the truth is unbeknownst to its maker
and thus I make peace with that as
I watch the letters scrambling about
searching for the exit to make their escape.
Within a smooth red line of liquid crimson
their ballad is somber as some had marched in
the front lines, while others remain hidden within
the cavity.
I have to dig deeper to find them but I,
with fortuned heart at the ready,
reserved the most tender of organs for last.
They find their way down to the drain,
renegade thoughts that found themselves
lapping among the sides with the others
that came before.
For safeguarding is an art,
and justly warranted for the beauty and truth that
must be maintained
for memory’s and posterity’s sake.
I tie the knots, in artery, in place of which
I had bled what others could not.
Exchanged the red with the augmented solution
to the dire consequence of perfection.
But why…why must I do this?
Endure this process of preservation?
Prohibit the spread of volatile prophylaxis,
cutting the coagulating fluid and replacing it
with a subtle filtration system
in order to maintain the glorious intent
of life.
Why must one exert themselves,
struggle with tutelage,
safeguarding that which may become lost within memory
and will eventually hide among the other corpses,
buried
forgotten.
One final glance at the stark white sheet
riddled with splotches of blood sweated
from its creation only to be
then lost within the realm of time?
I preserve this work not for its demise
nor for its fractured existence as it falls
upon eyes that live
and breathe
reincarnating the memory
of a memory-
I prepare for its afterlife.
For with time, it will remain
for once it is finished
it will be as it will be remembered,
always,
even at the final glance as it is laid to rest.
Perfectly preserved wrapped in a blanket of linen
touched with delicate hands
in honor of the beauty of it when it was
a living breathing thought.
I assist in its venture into the next life;
the immortal world of words that live on
through the pages of history-
their mark upon this realm
in constant grace of creative perfection.
©2013 J.V. Stanley
http://jvstanley.weebly.com/
J. V. Stanley is the co-author of ‘Fire and Water’ a collaborative collection of poetry currently available on Amazon. Her recent projects include her debut novel, 'Faces In Still Waters' with an expected publication date of October/November 2013 and ‘Irony, Karma, And Fate Walk Into A Bar', a collection of epic style poetry, prose, and short stories expected to be published January 2014. She has over forty articles and poems published, six literary awards under her belt, and over 15 years of experience tutoring over 30 individuals in English and creative writing.
She is the Founder and CEO of Writerz Block, an editing service dedicated to serving independent authors and students with one-on-one attention. In her devotion to multicultural literature and her experience working with ESL writers, she took upon the position of Development and Marketing Director for Miracle E-zine in January 2013 where she also writes the book review column. Currently in the last year of the Bachelors program in English and Communications through the University of Phoenix, she also incorporates independent study of philosophy and interpersonal communication. She thanks the millions of coffee beans who willingly sacrificed their existence for all of her creative and domestic endeavors.
Release Me
Release me.
Vanity lost is beauty revealed.
Recalibrate love from hearts concealed.
Finding premonitions of wondrous bliss.
Translucent composure released by a kiss.
Simultaneous quivers ejaculate themselves.
Into heart felt emotions we delve.
Memories and angers put to rest.
Decisions a new, to start out fresh.
No more finger pointing.
Anticipated smooches prepare loves anointing.
Time won't wait.
The answer is here right now.
Change is on the horizon.
Just ask me how.
I prayed for this moment.
You in my arms is the ultimate atonement.
Can we just lock ourselves in this feeling.
Be in love like our beginning.
Kiss away the pain.
Until theirs no room for blame.
We can embark on a new love.
No looking back.
Release the doves.
No more cares about our faults.
We won't go back there at all.
If we can't look towards whats right in front of us.
This special gift of love is so wondrous.
If we cant turn our backs on all our wrongs.
Learn, forgive and move on.
Just let it be.
Just let it be new.
Just let it be love.
If we just can't let it be.
If not.
Just release me.
Vanity lost is beauty revealed.
Recalibrate love from hearts concealed.
Finding premonitions of wondrous bliss.
Translucent composure released by a kiss.
Simultaneous quivers ejaculate themselves.
Into heart felt emotions we delve.
Memories and angers put to rest.
Decisions a new, to start out fresh.
No more finger pointing.
Anticipated smooches prepare loves anointing.
Time won't wait.
The answer is here right now.
Change is on the horizon.
Just ask me how.
I prayed for this moment.
You in my arms is the ultimate atonement.
Can we just lock ourselves in this feeling.
Be in love like our beginning.
Kiss away the pain.
Until theirs no room for blame.
We can embark on a new love.
No looking back.
Release the doves.
No more cares about our faults.
We won't go back there at all.
If we can't look towards whats right in front of us.
This special gift of love is so wondrous.
If we cant turn our backs on all our wrongs.
Learn, forgive and move on.
Just let it be.
Just let it be new.
Just let it be love.
If we just can't let it be.
If not.
Just release me.
LQ
Pen'D Poem : September 29 - October 5
I'm Jus Des...
Oh I'm pretty huh
You don't know me hun
Sometimes I feel so shitty son
Sometimes I wish my days were done
Oh u think I'm a great poet
My words make u smile
Ur comments and likes show it
Sometimes I wanna blow dis joint
Sometimes I feel y'all miss the point
I free my soul thru these heart wrenching words
Nouns pronouns adjectives and verbs
But sometimes it just don't work
Ya'heard
It just don't work
Ppl always think I'm the smart one
I'm so intelligent
Wisdom surpasses the length of years lived
But sometimes I just don't give a f*ck
Sometimes I wanna throw all my shit in a truck and run away til my legs get tired
Cuz life gets in the way of the enjoyment of wordplay
Sometimes I wanna stay
Keep trying
But as I write these words I can feel my spirit slowly dying
Brain frying in overload
And I get so tired of carrying this burdensome load
I be in bitch mode
Like this shit don't make no sense mode
And that's when I blaze and blow
Cause the smoke
Won't let me go
I toke
I choke
Then I flow
U think I have it all together
Cause its seems I've weathered many storms
But hell nah I ain't above the norm
I'm just a sinner who falls down repeatedly
Steadily awaiting The Creator to throw his hands up and give up on me
Lost cause
Then I pause
I do this shit
Cause it do what it does
Drains open up
Releasing my floods
I spit blood
I shed tears
Tried confronting my fear
Spent many years
Flinging sweat from my brow
Inhale
Exhale
Cheers and jeers
Ppl are flaky
Anyhow
Act like they love me
Deep down they hate me
Deep down inside
By no means mistake me
I really don't care
Except when I do
Let's talk about the truth
I f*ck up and still owe dues
Debts outstanding
And I been played and played others a fool
I break hella rules
I was cocaine's tool
She used me
Schooled me
On how to f*ck up and lose
Then I flipped a coin
Rolled a die
And I choose
Life
Except when I wanna die
High price
For justice to repay strife
For what was taken from me as a little 3, 4 and 5 year old baby
Shit crazy
I let it go
Or I thought I did
It still mentally enslaves me
So u see
Please don't strive to be like me
Compliments is cool
But u really don't know me
Ppl always come to me to vent
Or to ask for advice
Sometimes I wanna scream out
F*CK MY LIFE
I don't have all the answers
And shit who really does
But if u think I'm that girl
Who encompasses all of the above
Then, bless ur little heart
I owe it to u to keep doin my part
So I'll write
And write
And write....
CX
 |
Desiree Luce Winston |
Pen'D Poem: September 22 - 28
A Man with a beautiful mind
Is sometimes hard to find
A Man with a beautiful spirit
Who lets it shine, so you can feel it
Projects it, so you can see it
Walks in it, so he can live in it
A Man with ambition
Seeking knowledge to empower
His self and his seed to create
a new breed
A Man with a beautiful body
Healthy ,Strong
only makes up part of the being
but completes the whole
A trinity of creation
The beginning, the middle and the end
Is what is the best about a Beautiful Man
Created in God's image
Perfection in every flaw
A Beautiful Mind, Body and Soul
 |
| Will Taylor II |
Hold Applause, No Applause [Mature Readers]
Hold Your Applause Now
I'm Ready To See Now
I'm Ready To Speak Now
I'm Ready To Be Now
Please Hold Your Applause
I'm Ready To Speak Now
Can You Believe...
...Now?
My Mind Speaks Volumes
I Speak For Myself.
My Heart Tells Stories
I've Kept Within
Who I am...
Is Here.
Hold Your Applause
Killing A Spirit
Slowly Dying In Shame
From Outside World,
From Outside Pain.
No Applause?
Stepping On The Surface
Of This Fragile Glass...
Treading Softly
But I'm Still Falling Fast.
Black Alice
Going Down The Hole.
Where She Lands
No One Cares, OR Knows
Do You Care?
Will You Care?
Is This Too Much To Spare?
F88k Your D8mn Applause.
I'm Fighting For a Higher Cause.
Holding Your Applause?
Why Do I Care...
You Never Praised Me.
Nor Ever Cared.
I'm Talking About You
YOU
You
And You...
With Your F88king Judgements...
Your Wretched Black Heart..
I'm READY TO BE Now!
Surrounded By Silence.
Blank.
Staring At The Wall.
Blank.
Crashing Inside.
Blank.
Where Do I Feel...
There Is No Place.
Darkness I Tread.
But Cannot Sustain Much Longer.
The Light Calls Me.
And Tells Me To Breathe Stronger.
Don't Praise Me Now
I'm Pulling Myself Up.
But You Keep Knocking Me Down.
My Smiles Are Frowns
B8tch That I Am...
What Lies Beneath...
I'm Not Allowed To Be Happy.
To Be Free & To Speak.
Held Down By Your Control.
I've Learned To Abide
Cut My Soul Into Pieces
But I Remain
With Some Pride.
Wrong Or Right.
I Have No Sight.
I'm Not As Good As You.
Scared Of Your Bite.
Pick Myself Up...
Pull Me UP.
When You Throw Me Down
Ignore.
Degrade.
Ridicule.
For Your Love Of Me.
Damn Your Sickness.
F&ck Your Love...
Tis' Not Love But Evil.
Surrounded By Silence.
Blank.
Staring At The Wall.
Blank.
Crashing Inside.
Blank.
Where Do I Feel...
There Is No Place.
Darkness I Tread.
But Cannot Sustain Much Longer.
The Light Calls Me.
And Tells Me To Breathe Stronger.
Holding Your Applause?
Why Do I Care...
You Never Praised Me.
Nor Ever Cared.
I'm Talking About You
YOU
You
And You...
With Your F8cking Judgements...
Your Wretched Black Heart..
I'm READY TO BE Now!
Do You Care?
Will You Care?
Is This Too Much To Spare?
F8ck Your D8mn Applause.
I'm Fighting For a Higher Cause.
My Mind Speaks Volumes
I Speak For Myself.
My Heart Tells Stories
I've Kept Within
Who I am...
Is Here.
Hold Your Applause
Hold Your Applause Now
I'm Ready To See Now
I'm Ready To Speak Now
I'm Ready To Be Now...
Please Applause...
What? No Standing Ovation?
Not Surprised.
Pen'D Poem: September 15 - 21
The unspoken truth.
There are stairs in life we must
climb.
Some are afraid to go forward some are left behind.
Do not walk.
Run, for life is too short.
Learn all you can and go forward.
Do not be mislead, cause tomorrow may be too late.
listen, learn, prosper, achieve.
Be determined, get what you need.
Wanda Meka Williams.
Some are afraid to go forward some are left behind.
Do not walk.
Run, for life is too short.
Learn all you can and go forward.
Do not be mislead, cause tomorrow may be too late.
listen, learn, prosper, achieve.
Be determined, get what you need.
Wanda Meka Williams.
 |
Wanda Meka Williams
What's dead shouldn't bleed
What's dead shouldn't bleed
A lot of my work isn't from
personal experiences. Some
I've experienced through others some
close some far: family , friends , news
movies etc.... And sometimes it is
personal but with my style of writing
it's very hard for the reader to identify
which is which. This piece is very personal
I am me because
of what her childhood
forced her to see / family,
before her children you couldn't
spot a branch on that damaged
tree/ if you did it was broken
absent the nutrients to sprout
a leaf like when it rained the
soil beneath purposely rejected
the food it was given to eat
Jail, group homes, and
shelters these places so
unfamiliar to me but my
mom once called them home
she lacked the guidance that
all children need / grandma
was a addict heroin weakened
her motherly reach / her
best friend an alcoholic
she took full custody /
her addiction convinced
her my mother was the enemy
every time she drank she revealed
a new method for my mom
to bleed / her brother blood
related was far from brotherly
not once but two times my uncle
forced himself inside her space
where only a significant other
should be
My mother is
inspiration for
"breathe" to do
it's deeds because
her will to survive
exceeds the beast
in deaths need to
feed it's greed
Four siblings
a total of five
with the addition
of me / that intermission
after two the doctors
sworn would exceed
the definition of
brief / an attempted
suicide supposedly
stole her gift to conceive
but God said people please
and enhanced her chances
by three
after that attempt
to give back her gift
of life she tried again
and again her arms
too familiar with the
sharp of a knife / depressed
from a haunted past that
told her it'll be better to
live with Christ but he
never sent that request
so he made sure she
continued to fight
Today things are
much better then
yesterday the past
is long gone but
on occasion it shows
it's face / family! That
tree so much stronger now
I'd say and together
we make sure that the
past knows its place
What's dead shouldn't bleed
© 2013 viewtifulink
First
First
First, and far most.
I'd like to thank you for being you.
For being by my side.
For staying true.
Swag swipers, and shine blockers,
are no match for your loyalty.
You stay loving me, being my queen.
The mere act, exalts me to royalty.
You flow like an aphrodisiac
saliva through my drive.
Placing cursors on links,
making the obvious easy to find.
Cheesy flavors of your smile I yearn.
Mouse overs quicken your departure, and return.
You are sexy gone viral.
Downloaded pleasure,
unwarranted searches,
apprehend your arrival.
Status: textually active, in a textlationship.
I view your post, and lose my grip.
I think about the possibilities of us.
When life rains its doubts.
I think about the possibility amid.
I think about the possibilities without.
I opt for the first.
The one that squeezes my azz,
scratches my back.
Quenches my thirst.
I think about you.
How you became the first breath up out of a dream.
If I may,
if I can,
let me borrow
Barry's words;
you're my first,
you're my last,
my everything.
LQ.
First, and far most.
I'd like to thank you for being you.
For being by my side.
For staying true.
Swag swipers, and shine blockers,
are no match for your loyalty.
You stay loving me, being my queen.
The mere act, exalts me to royalty.
You flow like an aphrodisiac
saliva through my drive.
Placing cursors on links,
making the obvious easy to find.
Cheesy flavors of your smile I yearn.
Mouse overs quicken your departure, and return.
You are sexy gone viral.
Downloaded pleasure,
unwarranted searches,
apprehend your arrival.
Status: textually active, in a textlationship.
I view your post, and lose my grip.
I think about the possibilities of us.
When life rains its doubts.
I think about the possibility amid.
I think about the possibilities without.
I opt for the first.
The one that squeezes my azz,
scratches my back.
Quenches my thirst.
I think about you.
How you became the first breath up out of a dream.
If I may,
if I can,
let me borrow
Barry's words;
you're my first,
you're my last,
my everything.
LQ.
Dance Is ME
When I dance. the first thing I say is "God accept this praise please" and for the time that I'm dancing I feel like he's lookin at me the most,.. sinful, dirty, deliberate tired old me,
The same me that rushes out the house without prayin, or never really
thanks him for the time he spends settin up blessings for me that I have
no clue about. So they say when you dance, You get to see who that person is, they bare their heart and weave stories right in front of your eyes, and only those with the gifts God gave can see that and relate,..
So let me weave a similar story, through my words, untamed and very free, just like my dance, not many periods, because when I dance just like these commas I stop only briefly so you can understand me.
When God watches me dance, I know he sees how, I wave,.. the pain moves from one point of my body to another,
sometimes it'll show up in one spot and travel unseen into another part of my body, or when i wave in segments, is as if I can control how much goes where, or as if I've learned to tame it when still its uncontrolled,
When I pop, its as if I'm hardening myself to the daily problems that seek out my weak spots,and seem to hit me where it hurts most, or when I lock, that quick tense moment, show how deep and how grounded I need to be when things happen the impact on my body may even wear it out but that hardening only turns into stamina for the future
when I tick, I take the time to make it intricate enough to show you no matter how big the area of problems around me is I can take emotion and minimize it till it looks unreal, as if its not even there
When I strobe, I take that same small feeling, and place it any where in every where, pausing for each millisecond only to go on further pushing little by little towards my destination
When I tut I show that being accurate and right, can only help me be precise in how I work things out whether its around me or in myself ,...
When I finger tut, I take that same concentration, and add to it, hoping God sees the picture I'm tryna paint for him.,
when I animate I take the time to demonstrate how some days I have to literally motivate myself just to get up and face the day
when I glide I show how smoothly things go over when I trust not just me but God and knowin that my feet are on solid ground
When I freeze I stop it all, to take a moment to talk to God, and hope that in that moment he hears me so when I move he moves my problems along with me,
but see dancin isn't all an expression of pain for me,.. but that's the most beautiful and harmless way you'll see me release it, so when you see me dance, don't see it as a show of skill, see it as me showing you what i give to God when he looks at me, the me who will try and try and try until I get it right,
Keep workin on me God and perfect me as I perfect my moves,..
now you know me....
So let me weave a similar story, through my words, untamed and very free, just like my dance, not many periods, because when I dance just like these commas I stop only briefly so you can understand me.
When God watches me dance, I know he sees how, I wave,.. the pain moves from one point of my body to another,
sometimes it'll show up in one spot and travel unseen into another part of my body, or when i wave in segments, is as if I can control how much goes where, or as if I've learned to tame it when still its uncontrolled,
When I pop, its as if I'm hardening myself to the daily problems that seek out my weak spots,and seem to hit me where it hurts most, or when I lock, that quick tense moment, show how deep and how grounded I need to be when things happen the impact on my body may even wear it out but that hardening only turns into stamina for the future
when I tick, I take the time to make it intricate enough to show you no matter how big the area of problems around me is I can take emotion and minimize it till it looks unreal, as if its not even there
When I strobe, I take that same small feeling, and place it any where in every where, pausing for each millisecond only to go on further pushing little by little towards my destination
When I tut I show that being accurate and right, can only help me be precise in how I work things out whether its around me or in myself ,...
When I finger tut, I take that same concentration, and add to it, hoping God sees the picture I'm tryna paint for him.,
when I animate I take the time to demonstrate how some days I have to literally motivate myself just to get up and face the day
when I glide I show how smoothly things go over when I trust not just me but God and knowin that my feet are on solid ground
When I freeze I stop it all, to take a moment to talk to God, and hope that in that moment he hears me so when I move he moves my problems along with me,
but see dancin isn't all an expression of pain for me,.. but that's the most beautiful and harmless way you'll see me release it, so when you see me dance, don't see it as a show of skill, see it as me showing you what i give to God when he looks at me, the me who will try and try and try until I get it right,
Keep workin on me God and perfect me as I perfect my moves,..
now you know me....
 |
| Theron Steele |
Septembers Chorus
Septembers Chorus
Delicate leaves scorch,
In the last weeks of summer,
Trees wilt helplessly,
Animals store food for their hybernation,
An autumn breeze brings septembers chorus.
Copyright 2013.
The Ones Left Behind
There’s a slow burning river of
sadness rolling through my heart.
There are no fish, no urchins, not a
living thing in its waters but the pain of
the ones left alive
.
There are no trees along these
blasted river banks, no birds fly
its fiery air, no creatures come to
drink its scalding waters but
the ones left alive.
Bubbling whirlpools swirl inside my eyes,
powdery grit fills up my nostrils, sticks
to my lungs, makes me move with
the slowest motions and I don’t
know if I’m alive.
Black river of tears flowing through
my veins, roaring in my ears,
making me insane. There are
no words, no reason, nothing to
say to ease the hurt for
the ones left alive
Too horrendous to conceive,
too ghastly to relive, too
monstrous to believe for
the ones left alive.
Copyright 9/11/01--2013 Dennis John Ferado
sadness rolling through my heart.
There are no fish, no urchins, not a
living thing in its waters but the pain of
the ones left alive
.
There are no trees along these
blasted river banks, no birds fly
its fiery air, no creatures come to
drink its scalding waters but
the ones left alive.
Bubbling whirlpools swirl inside my eyes,
powdery grit fills up my nostrils, sticks
to my lungs, makes me move with
the slowest motions and I don’t
know if I’m alive.
Black river of tears flowing through
my veins, roaring in my ears,
making me insane. There are
no words, no reason, nothing to
say to ease the hurt for
the ones left alive
Too horrendous to conceive,
too ghastly to relive, too
monstrous to believe for
the ones left alive.
Copyright 9/11/01--2013 Dennis John Ferado
+Dennis+John+Ferado.jpg)
Pen'D Poem: September 9 - 14
Black Weeds
When I’m applying for a job, nobody cares that my mother has two doctorate degrees; my father has his own company. All they see isthat black dot, damn if I came from fine stock.
Just another nigga
trying to get bigger, just walking down the block cops reach for the trigger.
Why is it that?
I’m the most hated being on the planet, a black man holding his own. I never had to rob and steal plus I own my own home.
trying to get bigger, just walking down the block cops reach for the trigger.
Why is it that?
I’m the most hated being on the planet, a black man holding his own. I never had to rob and steal plus I own my own home.
No I didn’t grow up
In the projects for that I consider myself blessed but hated by my own people cause I didn’t settle for less. Now I’m Uncle Tom cause I didn’t plot
To kill my own brother, selling crack on the corner or getting on it, to
support my habit stealing from my own mother. Just another punk cause I didn’t spend my life in and out of jail, considered a bookworm cause all
my classes I didn’t fail.
Why is it that?
I’m not considered a success, congratulated and treated different from all the rest. My less fortunate brothers and sisters try to tell me I’m not acting black. But what is acting black? Is black striving to be going nowhere but on welfare with an attitude like you don’t care, or is it about growing up to be a crook? Tell me why black means it’s too hard to pick up a book.
when I want to be reminded I’m black all I have to do is apply for a job,
go shop and I dare not go for a jog cause I might get shot. Mad at me
because I don’t want to be associated with crime. Just because I’m black
why should I have to do time. How could you be black and proud to be a
fool? Who told you that bending over, being somebody’s bitch in jail was
cool? But I have to give the little fagots props.
Who said black people don’t stick together?
In Attica we run cell blocks. Now ask yourself is this
the life you want for your seed, then by example you should lead. Pick up
a book and stop growing little black weeds!
In the projects for that I consider myself blessed but hated by my own people cause I didn’t settle for less. Now I’m Uncle Tom cause I didn’t plot
To kill my own brother, selling crack on the corner or getting on it, to
support my habit stealing from my own mother. Just another punk cause I didn’t spend my life in and out of jail, considered a bookworm cause all
my classes I didn’t fail.
Why is it that?
I’m not considered a success, congratulated and treated different from all the rest. My less fortunate brothers and sisters try to tell me I’m not acting black. But what is acting black? Is black striving to be going nowhere but on welfare with an attitude like you don’t care, or is it about growing up to be a crook? Tell me why black means it’s too hard to pick up a book.
when I want to be reminded I’m black all I have to do is apply for a job,
go shop and I dare not go for a jog cause I might get shot. Mad at me
because I don’t want to be associated with crime. Just because I’m black
why should I have to do time. How could you be black and proud to be a
fool? Who told you that bending over, being somebody’s bitch in jail was
cool? But I have to give the little fagots props.
Who said black people don’t stick together?
In Attica we run cell blocks. Now ask yourself is this
the life you want for your seed, then by example you should lead. Pick up
a book and stop growing little black weeds!
 |
| Andre J. Carter |
Fury Of A Wasp
Fury Of A Wasp
Wasp flies furious,
Beating wings in frustration,
Against a glass window pane,
Never getting anywhere,
Until I let it escape.
Copyright 2013.
Wasp flies furious,
Beating wings in frustration,
Against a glass window pane,
Never getting anywhere,
Until I let it escape.
Copyright 2013.
Nobody's Woman
I'm a full grown woman. Why can't I find a half grown man?
I'm just kiddin, I'm not settling and that's the case at hand.
Dating has become such a task, a chore; I must be a bore?
Coz I don't twerk it like she do, work the kinda job his last
GURL did. I just can't deal with it. You see I've gotten so fed up,
hate won't fill me up. Ya feel me?…I don't wanna go there.
Lawd knows I don't. But something is wrong. It's not all about me.
I'm the last and the least. Still I'm gonna demand my respect,
it's the queen in me. Nah, I put up wit a lot of things but a lying ,
trifling, non azz wiping man ain't one of them. These lips-of-mine
can be stubborn and mischievous. So rough Carmex can't soften
them up. Ladies, it just seems unfair the way men look at
my housing, clothing, like I'm a hood rat. Like they
are so up to par, as they roll around driving rental cars, living
at home wit mama and work temp jobs. Still, I'm good at
the bar. Oh yeah, I look good enuff to give a head applause.
Until I put em on blast, smash those sweetie grins real fast
like a bad car accident. And then I'm a crazee azz bytch!
Then so be it. I'm love sick y'all and it's terminal. I've fought
a good, long, hard fight. I just can't seem to find a man that's
right for meeee. I'm not chasing_____ hold on. It's
the fact that every man I meet wants to be out of his league.
He's either above or below me. Or out of his rabbit azz mind!!!
There comes a time when you wait for some things too long.
You know what… guess what. Love can kiss my black behind.
I'm not lying y'all. I'm sooo done wit the online, offline, hotlines
and chat lines. These blurred lines have ran from my page.
As Robin Thicke would sing, in a different way. I guess…
I'd rather be my own fool than to ever think, love and I could be
cool like that… That my life could be possible like that...
jhp©2013
I'm just kiddin, I'm not settling and that's the case at hand.
Dating has become such a task, a chore; I must be a bore?
Coz I don't twerk it like she do, work the kinda job his last
GURL did. I just can't deal with it. You see I've gotten so fed up,
hate won't fill me up. Ya feel me?…I don't wanna go there.
Lawd knows I don't. But something is wrong. It's not all about me.
I'm the last and the least. Still I'm gonna demand my respect,
it's the queen in me. Nah, I put up wit a lot of things but a lying ,
trifling, non azz wiping man ain't one of them. These lips-of-mine
can be stubborn and mischievous. So rough Carmex can't soften
them up. Ladies, it just seems unfair the way men look at
my housing, clothing, like I'm a hood rat. Like they
are so up to par, as they roll around driving rental cars, living
at home wit mama and work temp jobs. Still, I'm good at
the bar. Oh yeah, I look good enuff to give a head applause.
Until I put em on blast, smash those sweetie grins real fast
like a bad car accident. And then I'm a crazee azz bytch!
Then so be it. I'm love sick y'all and it's terminal. I've fought
a good, long, hard fight. I just can't seem to find a man that's
right for meeee. I'm not chasing_____ hold on. It's
the fact that every man I meet wants to be out of his league.
He's either above or below me. Or out of his rabbit azz mind!!!
There comes a time when you wait for some things too long.
You know what… guess what. Love can kiss my black behind.
I'm not lying y'all. I'm sooo done wit the online, offline, hotlines
and chat lines. These blurred lines have ran from my page.
As Robin Thicke would sing, in a different way. I guess…
I'd rather be my own fool than to ever think, love and I could be
cool like that… That my life could be possible like that...
jhp©2013
My Choice
~ My Choice~
Whispers.......in the name of tears
Nights crying...trying to conquer my fears
Hearts weakened....in the name of love
Sullied......like that of a black dove
Captured......Within the blink of an eye
No retreating this prison
He screams for me to come to him
I shout at the top of my lungs
Release me
But he never hears me
The noise drowns
It was your choice
You chose his way
You chose to stay
Clouds darken......a soul gone astray
Lost and forlorn..... A heart turned gray
Shallow breath..... As I beg for death
No retreating this prison
He screams for me to come to him
I whimper
as I crawl into the fetal position
I'm sorry
I didn't mean to fall
But he never hears me
The noise drowns
It was my choice
I chose his way
I chose to stay
The Valley
Tho I walked through the valley
I smiled
No longer exiled
For I am in my garden of Eden
Yes I was born a heathen
But I turned my life around
And I proudly wear this crown
A queen maybe not
But royalty best believe
Why cause I achieved
The wealth of loving myself
Death hung at my feet
But I dared to not give up
And too reach for my dreams
The stars have lit my way
Through that valley today
My lows no longer touch the ground
And my highs are closer then the sky
I've got my eye on the prize
Glad I didn't believe the lies
As my flesh becomes new
My verses grew
To a state
For I will never break
Too much at stake
Throw that negativity into the lake
Let the fire burn
As the rose blooms
On snow covered ponds
Summer sings that song
The kiss of the morning dew
As I forgive myself
And life starts anew...
There Were Signs
There were signs
From the beginning
I knew I wasn't going to be winning
To him always sinning
Didn't grow up that way
I still ask my self
WHY did I stay?
Guilt on top of lies
So many tears shed from these eyes
The drops a sea
Of what we would never be...
EMOTIONAL...
From the silent treatment
To years of name calls
Making me always take the fall
Excuses
To his verbal contusion's
Lowered self esteem
Berating my dreams
Felt less then a woman
Just wanted to be loved...
PHYSICAL...
It started with a poke
I was a joke
Blood pours
On the mental scars of my
Already fragile heart
Pulling of my hair
Oh but he never did care
Who was there
Dragging me across rooms
Scars still show the burns
Love with no discern
Choking
Poking
Kicking
Punching
Threats of death
Wow that's what he did best...
SPIRITUAL...
I was not Godly
Was lower then him
Remembering how
He used Jesus against me
He told me
I was worse the Eve
I questioned my faith
He used his knowledge
To chastise
And criticize...
SEXUAL...
Molesting my heart body and soul
So cold
If the truth be told
Still hard to speak
On the acts he did to me
Cheating
Biting
Igniting my pain
Raping
Ravaging my body
Leaves a bloody taste in my mouth
Broken bones
Are now pitted with his ashes
So many a night I was at the
End of his lashing
For years draped
In a crimson sash
But soon learned to take my life back..
I NOW stand as much more
Then a survivor
I'm A thriver...
Taken from When Darkness Comes To Light available to buy on Amazon
Interlude
~Interlude~
As I soar to invisibility
I dream of you
Fly away with me
Let's be free
Let's soar like an eagle
Two hearts
One beat
Let's see
What no other can see
That love can conquer
The world
Let's live again
If only for one moment
Let time stand frozen
Trapped in each others arms
Away from harm
Draped in your embrace
Safe in your cape
My sweet escape
From life's woe
Today I'm not cold
Moist kisses
So delicious
As I whisper
I adore you
I implore you
To grab my hand
Let me save you
from your solitude
An interlude
To what's to come
Let's live
Laugh
And be in love
As doves begin to sing
A girl can always
Hold on to her dreams
The Call Of The Wild
I remain in a dream like state
Why can't every thing
just fade away
Falsmatic symphony's
Playing with my reality
Has it messing with my mentally
Psychotic tendencies
Dependent on psychedelic rhymes
Loosing faith
In the raindrops
Denied by the tears I cry
Composed by the call of the wild
Walls indented
No incentives
Take the pain away
And live free
Rejection
Mistaken identity
Diminished visions
By a blind mans captivity
Droughts taking the breath
Out of the land
Such anger at hand
Pedestals and thrones
Porcelain Gods
And bleeding clones
Stealing from the night
As I sit back and hear the cries
I sigh
The call of the wild
A unruly stepchild
Originality left for dead
Pumped with false knowledge
Death of a thousand lies
My Ink leaks
As this pen bleeds goodnight...
Why can't every thing
just fade away
Falsmatic symphony's
Playing with my reality
Has it messing with my mentally
Psychotic tendencies
Dependent on psychedelic rhymes
Loosing faith
In the raindrops
Denied by the tears I cry
Composed by the call of the wild
Walls indented
No incentives
Take the pain away
And live free
Rejection
Mistaken identity
Diminished visions
By a blind mans captivity
Droughts taking the breath
Out of the land
Such anger at hand
Pedestals and thrones
Porcelain Gods
And bleeding clones
Stealing from the night
As I sit back and hear the cries
I sigh
The call of the wild
A unruly stepchild
Originality left for dead
Pumped with false knowledge
Death of a thousand lies
My Ink leaks
As this pen bleeds goodnight...
You ever met an angel
You ever met an angel
I've met mines....
if I'd let beauty
tell the story it'll
say for the hundredth
time / the worlds perception
of amazing before her mirror
is defined even if an empty
can and a broken spark was
the brilliance that assembled
her mind
First attraction is
usually what keeps
us blind / that soft
that tames your hand
when comfortable grants
you permission to meet
the load she held behind/
or a figure that's shaped
like that glass that uses
Sand to portray time but
if my description of beautiful
glorified her smile every word
that came after would lose
it's place in line
After this love was
born what my eyes
use to swipe as
beauty my mind
would decline / the
care for what appeared
between each blink faded
with time / what it took
to flip the switch that sat
under what's registered
as amazed grew in size,
what she offered was
a greater bright it dimmed
the light of that beginners
interest to expose the dark
between her thighs
You ever met an angel?
Does her equipment
support your eyes?
That bird was born
with wings it doesn't
mean it's destined to
meet the sky / if I told
you I could sing would
you applaud before I
tried? / don't assume
you've witnessed beauty
until she uncovered what's
hidden inside
Have you ever met an angel ?
This time around
I swear I've met mine
because I'm yet to spot
my wings but whenever
she's near to the ground
I am blind / when time
shackles our presence
with every second we
share the sky living
beyond the clouds rumor
has it where angels reside
You ever met an angel
© 2013 viewtifulink
if I'd let beauty
tell the story it'll
say for the hundredth
time / the worlds perception
of amazing before her mirror
is defined even if an empty
can and a broken spark was
the brilliance that assembled
her mind
First attraction is
usually what keeps
us blind / that soft
that tames your hand
when comfortable grants
you permission to meet
the load she held behind/
or a figure that's shaped
like that glass that uses
Sand to portray time but
if my description of beautiful
glorified her smile every word
that came after would lose
it's place in line
After this love was
born what my eyes
use to swipe as
beauty my mind
would decline / the
care for what appeared
between each blink faded
with time / what it took
to flip the switch that sat
under what's registered
as amazed grew in size,
what she offered was
a greater bright it dimmed
the light of that beginners
interest to expose the dark
between her thighs
You ever met an angel?
Does her equipment
support your eyes?
That bird was born
with wings it doesn't
mean it's destined to
meet the sky / if I told
you I could sing would
you applaud before I
tried? / don't assume
you've witnessed beauty
until she uncovered what's
hidden inside
Have you ever met an angel ?
This time around
I swear I've met mine
because I'm yet to spot
my wings but whenever
she's near to the ground
I am blind / when time
shackles our presence
with every second we
share the sky living
beyond the clouds rumor
has it where angels reside
You ever met an angel
© 2013 viewtifulink
Friends with wordz
Friends with wordz
I've come to the
conclusion that my
head shelters an
addict / his addiction
inspiration which turned
my mind to a gun it's
type machine with the
selector switch on automatic
boats and truckloads
of words a fiend for mental
traffic / my eyes and ears
a bridge for information while
my pen creates your passage
A salve to the
reader he's made
me proud to call
you master / your
reactions to my thoughts
and notebook clashes feeds
my passion which was conceived
by his addiction so his high forces
my action this means we need you
the most absent your response my
systems crashing
Can't remember the last
time this mind was ruled
by me / this love for chaining
words never fed my heart
this artistic beat / this blood
that filled my veins used to
look like yours I can't explain
this ink / I blame his addiction
gods messenger sent to awaken
what he planted in me
We all have that
drive it's control
we can't explain /
I understand now
it's your purpose
demanding change /
once you locate
the reason your
blessings of life
was gained you'll
understand why the
mental override was
arranged
Friends with wordz
I've come to the
conclusion that my
head shelters an
addict / his addiction
inspiration which turned
my mind to a gun it's
type machine with the
selector switch on automatic
boats and truckloads
of words a fiend for mental
traffic / my eyes and ears
a bridge for information while
my pen creates your passage
A salve to the
reader he's made
me proud to call
you master / your
reactions to my thoughts
and notebook clashes feeds
my passion which was conceived
by his addiction so his high forces
my action this means we need you
the most absent your response my
systems crashing
Can't remember the last
time this mind was ruled
by me / this love for chaining
words never fed my heart
this artistic beat / this blood
that filled my veins used to
look like yours I can't explain
this ink / I blame his addiction
gods messenger sent to awaken
what he planted in me
We all have that
drive it's control
we can't explain /
I understand now
it's your purpose
demanding change /
once you locate
the reason your
blessings of life
was gained you'll
understand why the
mental override was
arranged
Friends with wordz
© 2013 viewtifulink
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