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Category Archives: Poetry

Welcome to a New Friend |“Eye Will Not Cry” – what’s it all about? |

Eye Will Not Cry” – what’s it all about?

“Words are like weapons, they wound sometimes”…

A lyric by Cher about words and such a true statement that fits into all aspects of our life –Verbally, words have the capacity to rip you in half, yet when words are written on a page, it somehow feels even more poignant.

In some way, it adds a bit of gravitas to what is being said and of course, without the tone or body language to accompany, the written words then become open to individual interpretation.

I find it interesting that different things can be read into words set as lyrics or poems. Both have played a huge part of my life and as you will see through these pages, I have been inspired by other people’s words for this blog.

A song title, a lyric here or a sentence there ~ provoking a trickle of inspiration and leading to a flood of words of my own. They are just words, however they can be read in so many ways and they carry so much, or so little, depending on the intent of the writer, or of course the desire of the reader.

With all the above in mind, “Eye Will Not Cry” is a collection of rambles from a now 40 yr old. Amongst the longer rambles are poems and each poem is accompanied by a musical soundtrack and I encourage you to listen to the songs and connect the dots yourself. However, please note, that connection is mine – your interpretation of my words, is of course yours.

Some poems make sense, some don’t. Some reveal a lot, some reveal nothing at all. Don’t take it all at face value, but read between the lines. Please read this with your soul and ignore the warning signs.

Since I’ve been with you, I’ve been lost”…

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~

She wants more than his words…
Not just the things he writes…
She wants him with her every day…
And wants to hold him every night…
She wants to bite his lip…
As she’s bored of being his muse…
In world that’s only make believe…
Designed simply to confuse…

Because she has an aching need…
That comes from deep within…
Where she’s desperate for his fingers…
To gently explore her skin…
She needs to feel his naked body…
And hold him so damn close…
Be more than just his fantasy…
Haunted by his fucking ghosts…

That leave her sadly standing…
Crying and so very much alone…
And feeling so much colder…
Even in her own sweet home…
Where she sits and wonders…
What else she could ever do…
To convince him to love her…
And make her dreams come true…

To break all of the rules…
Help her escape from reality…
Which has her locked in chains…
And fucks with her sanity…
Keeping her a prisoner of life…
Only free within her dreams…
Where he is making love to her…
Giving her such orgasmic screams…

Before slipping into a deep slumber…
Safe inside his loving arms…
That wrap around her naked body…
And keep her safe from harm…
As she’s sick of reading words…
Now hates the things he writes…
That once held her captivated…
But now haunt her every night…

~

“Eye Will Not Cry” – what’s it all about? | Eye Will Not Cry.

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Welcome to a New Friend: static on the sun

Hear you me

One day I decided to stop talking
No one would miss it, I knew
Who would miss my humor, forced, failed
Who would miss my know-it-all attitude
A shot at making intelligence a notable quality
Who would miss my awkward commentary
Nobody, I knew
That was only hilarious to me
My small child self was already aware
Dangerously awake
To the sentiments of others around me
Better with my mouth closed
But I would do something instead
I would listen
I would open my heart
I would cloak the broken with my soul
Allowing them to lay their burdens upon me
Only speaking when I had something so good to say
It was a good idea
They would respect my work
They would learn to love me

Yet
Years go on and now
My quiet observance made me boring
My calculated remarks made me awkward
My un calculated ones, a fool
So unpracticed
My nervous presence brought nothing to the table

Lose lose
I should have never believed them
That small child knew no better
Poor thing

I’d changed into a nothing

Or so I thought

static on the sun.

An Open Letter to a Closed Person

I wrote my college entry essay about you. 500 words, I had written about seeing you curled up on the floor, drunk, night after night; about hearing my parents shuffling around to care for you after you’d come stumbling through our front door. 500 words telling a stranger behind a desk how you were my hero. You were funny and smart. I knew you had it in you to be a successful being. You had come such a long way, I wrote. You had reached your one year of sobriety, and called me on the 10th step of your program to apologize for hurting me. I was so proud of you, because I loved you and wanted so much for you to get better. I realize now that the phone call was not something you felt within your heart that you wanted to do, but something you needed to do to complete a formula. The Y of your x+y = z. I got into college based on a falsehood.

Memory Kisses (Free Verse)

Checking in on an old friend.

Welcome to a new friend: Welcome to Hell Sweetie

Welcome to a new friend:  Iris Bateman

Hello Everyone. I am a smalltown writer/dancer/actress/singer/photographer with big dreams. I hope that my words can in some way help to influence the way you think or something as small as the way you see one certain aspect of life. My poetry, in particular, has a strong base in freeverse, using beautiful words and meaningful metaphors. I try to express myself through writing, because then maybe someone will finally understand. I hope you enjoy my writings.

Welcome to Hell, Sweetie

I’m a 90s kid in my soul. I feel like I should’ve grown up obsessing over Pearl Jam and Red Hot Chili Peppers tees. I should’ve been going to Wheatus, Weezer, Bush, and Counting Crows concerts. I should’ve grown up watching MTV back when it really had music and crying when Kurt Cobain committed suicde. I should’ve grown up wearing flannels and grunge… I want to wear my hair the way I like it and wear dark lipstick and no eyeshadow and be a grunge kid and listen to my music all the time and be rebellious but I can’t. Because that era’s over…. But I was born with it already in my heart. I want to be a part of something that’s already over and all because of the music. But to be honest that music has gotten me through more of my life than most people. Can we just…

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Welcome to a new friend: Fail to Succeed

Welcome to a new friend: Logan and Zade of Curious Humans

CuriousHumans

“If you’re afraid to fail, then you’re probably going to fail.”                         -Kobe Bryant

Failure is not the opposite of success, it is part of success. If you are in sales and you fear rejection, you’ve picked the wrong profession. Its okay to feel anxious and concerned when faced with something new. The difference in true successors and everyone else is that these successors have developed the courage to go beyond their own comfort zone and not think twice about it. It is critical that you back sales effort with determination and will power no matter the obstacle.

Philosoraptor-fail-and-succeed

We all have fears in our conscious and subconscious minds. There are irrational fears and rational fears. Rational fears, such as fear of snakes, are healthy – they keep us safe. Irrational fears are the rational interpretation of the false stories…

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Welcome to a new friend: secretself2014

Welcome to a new friend: Secretself2014
Adult Content!! NSFW

secretself2014's Blog

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I need to feel you.
I need to feel your hand on the back of my neck, pulling me to you.
I need to feel your lips against mine.
I need to feel your tongue, slide it’s way into my mouth.
I need to feel the passion of your kiss
I need to feel the passion in your touch.
I need to feel your breath on my neck.
I need to feel your fingers as they trail down my spine.
I need to feel your hands as they squeeze my breasts firmly.
I need to feel you push me down to my knees.
I need to feel your cock pressed against my lips as you gently force it into my mouth.
I need to feel the pull and sting of your hands as they tangle in and pull my hair.
I need to feel and taste the warm, saltiness of…

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Welcome to a new friend: Onlyskysalimit — Forever and ever

Hello, I’m 18 and I came from small country called Macedonia in South Europe. Writing is my passion, and it’s the only way out I can find.

Story of my life


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It was like slow emotions, you think that the time froze you see your whole life in front of you, the day you met him, the day he kiss you for the first time and said he loves you, the day you swear to god that you are going to stay forever together, you see it all and you know that it’s end. You knew it, but you want to fight back even if you knew its hopeless, you don’t want to let off his hand but you don’t have power to hold it tight. You want to squeeze him tighter and never let him go, but as the time is ticking he is more and more away from you, when you want to hug and kiss him, he disappeared in the dark, and you are left alone. Alone and hopeless that you will ever see him again, not until…

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Welcome to a new friend: New Array

Welcome to a new friend: New Array

newarray

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Welcome to a new friend: Robyn of Twasallshewrote

Where I’m From (My own written poem)

Welcome to a new Friend: Genuine Poetry

Genuine Poetry”…one discovers that there is in it after all, a place for the genuine.” ~ Marianne Moore

Simple Gifts

Shakers dance
Shakers: Their Mode of Worship Lithograph by D.W. Kellogg

Simple Gifts
Elder Joseph Brackett

‘Tis the gift to be simple, ’tis the gift to be free
‘Tis the gift to come down where we ought to be,
And when we find ourselves in the place just right,
‘Twill be in the valley of love and delight.
When true simplicity is gained,
To bow and to bend we shan’t be ashamed,
To turn, turn will be our delight,
Till by turning, turning we come ’round right.

Shaker hymn, 1848

via Genuine Poetry | “…one discovers that there is in it after all, a place for the genuine.” ~ Marianne Moore.

#daydreamer |Welcome to a new friend: Mihran Kalaydjian

 “I’m a success today because I had a friend who believed in

me and I didn’t have the heart to let him down.

 

Daydreamer

By Mihran Kalaydjian, CHA

Consultant, Strategist, and Writer

Image

Daydreamer

I am on the passenger side,
Daydreaming to the sky
The day’s bright and full of life.. then
In a mile, I caught your sight

My heart starts beating triple times
The thing that I don’t know why
And the bus stopped for a while
Not long you’re in the seat behind

The music starts playing love songs
I get notion to have conversation
I love your eyes put in my direction,
I find my heart set in motion

We talk and talk while the road seems stretched,
The time runs slow till I reached my place
All was fantasy, I never noticed,
You wake me up, all eyes on my face.

(I wrote this poem from an experience when I was in a bus and caught sight of another passenger who had me wonderstruck! Well, other than that, I also have a deeper meaning with this poem!)

Mihran Kalaydjian

On a personal note, I love the outdoors, comedy, bbq, reading and traveling. I worked in the beer industry in college so I love talking about good beer. I used to be a competitive runner so (like all runners) if you make the mistake of asking me, I’ll tell you about my entire career and PRs. I also spent my youth working in restaurants, so if you’ve done the same, we can swap stories.

Mihran Kalaydjian, A proven ability to articulate a company’s brand culture as well as key strategic initiatives and delivery of desired results. Outstanding leadership, communications and project management skills. A committed individual with strong organizational skills that believes leading by example is key to building a strong team to achieve high guest satisfaction results and cost control measures.

Mihran Kalaydjian provides visionary leadership and management oversight of the sales, marketing and revenue strategies for Classic Hotels and Resorts.

Dreams

By Mihran Kalaydjian, CHA

Consultant, Strategist, and Writer


Oh! that my young life were a lasting dream!
My spirit not awakening, till the beam
Of an Eternity should bring the morrow.
Yes! tho’ that long dream were of hopeless sorrow,
‘Twere better than the cold reality
Of waking life, to him whose heart must be,
And hath been still, upon the lovely earth,
A chaos of deep passion, from his birth.
But should it be- that dream eternally
Continuing- as dreams have been to me
In my young boyhood- should it thus be given,
‘Twere folly still to hope for higher Heaven.
For I have revell’d, when the sun was bright
I’ the summer sky, in dreams of living light
And loveliness,- have left my very heart
In climes of my imagining, apart
From mine own home, with beings that have been
Of mine own thought- what more could I have seen?
‘Twas once- and only once- and the wild hour
From my remembrance shall not pass- some power
Or spell had bound me- ’twas the chilly wind
Came o’er me in the night, and left behind
Its image on my spirit- or the moon
Shone on my slumbers in her lofty noon
Too coldly- or the stars- howe’er it was
That dream was as that night-wind- let it pass.

I have been happy, tho’ in a dream.
I have been happy- and I love the theme:
Dreams! in their vivid coloring of life,
As in that fleeting, shadowy, misty strife
Of semblance with reality, which brings
To the delirious eye, more lovely things
Of Paradise and Love- and all our own!
Than young Hope in his sunniest hour hath known.

via The Nation’s Top 10 Worst Ice Storms | mihran Kalaydjian.

we’re both heading home |Catching up with Chester Maynes

chester maynes

eyes closed to
the mad world
animals move
and something
there is beautiful
crazy hell
imperfect real

freedom is seeing
ghosts and shadows
in the sky
foreign love
locked us in
a room where
we confess
our secrets

we feel
the leather
seats of the car
close to each
other and we
feel the heartbeats
of our souls

we drive until
we know that
we’re heading
nowhere but home

2014

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Welcome to a very old friend: pigeon lips :You’ll be older too…

 

You’ll be older too

Will you still love me
When I’m 64?
Well, yesterday I turned 65
And here we are.

Long partnerships share the essence of Life itself;
An unflinching WILL to go on no matter what.
Disappointments seem beside the point;
After all, we did do this together.
With laughs sometimes and loads of ironic detachment;
Its ALL we were meant to do.

I wake in the morning before you do.
I stroke your cheek with my fingers,
I feel the soft warmth of your shoulder,
I think,
Oh good, another day.

Bob Solomon

via .

NOTE TO SELF & DEMONIC WINDBAG IN MY HEAD |Catching up

performer, composer, writer, lover, freedom, arts, spirituality, light, sensuality, dance, music, messenger, |Welcome to a new friend: Erika Fuego

Erika Fuego

What’s Erika Fuego about?

Musical theater, performer, composer, writer, lover, freedom, arts, spirituality, light, sensuality, dance, music, messenger, making love for hours, dreamer, peace, truth seeker, believer, mermaid, love goddess, enlightenment, talking till dawn, giver, forgiveness, compassion, understanding, jogging in the rain, laying on the grass, swimming naked in the beach , baking, starring at the stars, laughing till you cry, nature, acceptance, letting go, God, purpose, evolution and love, love, love. Love everything and everyone one for we are all one.

via What’s Erika Fuego about? | Erika Fuego.

Hopeless Romantic

They say a realist is a frustrated romantic. Maybe, that’s true.

I am a romantic; A hopeless one.

I believe falling in love turns a gray sky blue.

 It makes music lively, visuals vibrant, food richer, smells intoxicating.

 Infatuation is a mind-altering state.

It enhances your senses, your mood, and your life.

 Falling in love brings you to life.

 Love is the only medicine for a broken heart.  It’s the only emotion that can conquer hate. It has the power to transform you, change you and make you grow faster and more effective than anything else.

But what happens when you fall in love, you build your world around someone, you make them you’re everything and then they leave you?  Then, you’re left with nothing, right?

Then, it’s the opposite effect.  Your blue sky is gray. Music is noise, visuals are dull, food is bland and smells are pungent.  The heart ache breaks you down. It’s like an anchor pulling you down.

It sucks the life right out of you.

Is it worth it? Laying your heart on the line; is it worth the risk?

If your happiness rests on someone they have the power to take it away. They have the ability to destroy your happiness.

 I just won’t give anyone that power anymore.

But as I write the words, I know before I even complete the sentence that it’s not true.

I will love again, I will break again and then love again.

That’s what hopeless romantics do.

-Erika Fuego

Me singing Adele- Someone Like You

my divine inner self as I have experienced it in the latihan of Subud. | Welcome to a new friend: (Irfaan) Ihsan Jafferi

iithinks

Here you will discover my spiritual journey that attempts to transform the indescribable into words. The ‘poetry’ here is inspired by two things: The first is my divine inner self as I have experienced it in the latihan of Subud. If you would like to learn more about the latihan you can go to: http://www.subud.com/spiritual.html The second is the sacred texts, spiritual practices and founders/saints of the world’s great religions in general and my own in particular. I hope, dear reader, that you will gain some enjoyment, peace, happiness and/or understanding from it. As always, wishing you all much peace and love!

A Dream

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I dreamt last night
Of a fire raging
In the depths of my soul

It melted my heart
Purifying the dirt
I was burned in the fires of Love

When time was ripe
The waters poured forth
Birthing life to a sacred growth

Surrendered I received
The I of Unity
Drenched in the waters of Love

I dreamt of a glowing face
Emanating a sacred light
The power of a loving Heart

Enmity dissolved
Serenity remained
The quality of a loving Heart

I awoke this morning
In blissful peace
The world made beautiful

I am Love and Love is me

Home of the Divine (Revised)

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Infinity exists
Before beginnings, after ends
Beyond horizons
In the nameless place of placelessness

Infinity is infinity
No time, no place
Yet, an exception
Infinity enclosed

The purest of Hearts
Is Divinity’s home
And you housekeeper
Must keep a clutterless abode

For purity in dirt, is no Purity at all
But a clean heart is the purest of all
A magnificent palace for the King of kings
The place he loving calls his beautiful Home

The sins of our father | johncoyote

The sins of our father

 

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Sins of our father’s.

A Poem by Coyote Poetry

"

We can learn kindness from living and seeing hate and violence.

"

Father’s eyes and anger

Is my Father’s eyes and anger.
Are they mine now?

I told you.
I love you.
I need you.

Love should bring calm and peace.

Violence.
A hidden demon.
Can strike without thought.

Sweet friend.
Kind lover.
Did you see the monster?

I tried to lock the demon up.
He tried to escape.

I must walk away for a moment.
Deep breathes and counting to ten.

My world is falling apart.
Like my Father’s world did.
He took the bad road.
Pissed off and violence.

I will keep quiet.
Do my best to stay strong.
Ain’t easy when your world is falling down around you.

We need kind words.
We need a lot of patience.
A lot of love and forgiveness.

I will pray to the God of life and death
Give me wisdom and strength.

Coyote
7 Feb 1989

My Father

When I look into the mirror.
Do I see you my father?

Have I become what I despised all my life?
Have my eyes.
Your violence become mine?.
Everyday I learn more loss.
Loss of dreams.
Lost of desires.

Will I become like you?
Give up.
Show spirit only when I’m violence or excited?

Can I stop my journey to man-hood?
My eyes from hiding tears.
Gentleness.

Have I travel too far?
Is the blood too strong?

Am I destine to hurt everyone?
I have loved.

If I chose my own road.
Why do I follow my father sadness.

Coyote
27 April 1989

Sins of the fathers

My father fought in wars.
Killed in battle that expanded to the real world.

He was a Mexican/Ojibwa man with no place to go.
Hated for his color and race.

He demanded respect and never allow anyone to
look down at him.
His anger and violence controlled his mind and heart.

He told me. “You will get a education and make them respect you.
I won’t allow you to live my life.”

My father watched me succeed.
He told me often. “Don’t allow my sins to become your sins.
I have killed, done bad things. You must overcome the sins of
your father.”

Now I have lived a good life. “My father’s sins made me go in the right
direction. Sins of our father’s need to teach us a better way.”

He asks me once. “Remember son. You must pray for me. Children must pray for
their parent to be allow to find peace.”

I pray he is with his Soldier brother’s in paradise. Drinking to a good day. I believe a kind God forgive the sins of men lost in the turmoil of hate and prejudice.

The sin of our father’s must teach us the better road.

Coyote
5 Jan 2011

via The sins of our father | johncoyote.

keithgarrettpoetry | Soft as a gentle kiss, a touch on the skin of a memory In the wind,

keithgarrettpoetry

ZEPHY

 

 

 

Soft as a gentle kiss, a touch on the skin of a memory In the wind,

A soft breeze, a West wind blowing through the trees, across the sea.

Travels through the years, not a face does It wear as It whispers,

It can only be seen with eyes that dream, soft as It speaks.

It changes tides, moves past and around what In nature exists,

Night and day It will go from here and there, place to place.

It Is the Zephy, has been since the time of man,

Energy without form, created by god In heaven, when and how long ago.

For It no beginning, no ending as It howls through time, not seen but why,

Powerful as It Is with no body or soul, why does It know just where to go.?

Keith Garrett

 

via keithgarrettpoetry | Smile! You’re at the best WordPress.com site ever.

Just another human being who’s trying to reach new levels of consciousness | Welcome to a new friend: kushtrimthaqi

kushtrimthaqi

Just another human being who’s trying to reach new levels of consciousness

via About me | kushtrimthaqi.

Prizren, Kosova (the city I live in)

As the sun sets it’s flight,
slowly, drifting through the sky
you can can see a small ray of light
falling from the clouds,
penetrating the leaves
 stinging your eyes
and, you stay amazed,
as you’re walking along the riverside…
of this ancient city
full of culture and pride,
here, you could gladly take your final breath
here, you would be happy to die.

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Tonight, i wont write about love.

Tonight, 
I wont write about love.
No, not tonight.
Tonight I will write
about the silent sky
and the moon,
that on his chest he holds.
I will write about this fog
that got my city strangled
just like a tight rope.
Tonight,
I will write about my garden
and the frozen flowers there-
that show me that death
is a sight to behold!
Tonight,
I will write about life
and death
and how fast this fleeting life goes!

But, when i looked down
just like on every other night
tonight, I again,
on the spread page
“I miss you” wrote.

Tonight, i wont write about love..

If you like my work, you can follow me on:
tumblr;  http://kushtrimthaqi.tumblr.com/
twitter;   https://twitter.com/KushTha
google+google.com/+KushtrimThaqi
blogspot; http://kushtrimthaqi.blogspot.com/
facebook; https://www.facebook.com/PractitionerOfADeadArt

Poetry on a Roll | “Free verse” poetry from the soul

[Terry:  It’s been a while but I thought I’d reinforce my recommendation of  Poetry on a Roll. Kimalee Jones’ work varies from Suicide Awareness Poetry to Haiku but it all shares the qualities of imagination and a serious devotion to her art.]

Forgiveness 102

Resentment used to run in my veins.
Once upon a time,
I felt poisoned with this thing
coursing through my body.
I resented certain people and things
that corrupted my perfect world.
Forgiveness was the love I used
to cleanse my heart from carrying grudges.

Kimalee Jones

via Poetry on a Roll | “Free verse” poetry from the soul.

valeriu dg barbu blog | writing, poetry, poems, lyrics, remedy of soul,

from valeriu dg barbu blog |

 We, the statues…

The Congress of the statues, agenda: the silence of the living,
serious sadness of the children and the rejection of the temptations of conspiring new sins,
as if things were somehow reversed,
people became a group of statues competitor…
nothing remains to be done to us, the statues, we take life in the chest,
we pass into the world to revive the virtues, the vices, until it is not too late
and in this park, we, the statues, not distinguish us more

Image

via valeriu dg barbu blog | writing, poetry, poems, lyrics, remedy of soul,.

Curves

Poesy plus Polemics

(Originally posted February 2014)
 

finding curves in the wounds
was surprising
the pain always angular
all hard and sharp
acute corners
pushed up under muscle
where only the dirty moons
rising from sickly brown bottles
and bedsheets
give comfort of two or three
midnight click hours
of crippling clocks
as the curves of the wounds
swallow life bit by bit
mean and raw with their red
violent purpose

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The Insatiable Saga Of Love |Catching up with A Shade of Pen

A Shade Of Pen

Another duet with David Ellis.. He is awesome, but perhaps you’re already know that. He is a magician, you might even know that. I love writing with him, well you know that too. 🙂 and if you didn’t, now you know. I know I suck at humor.

As she finally let it go
She felt a huge pain eased
As beautiful as love truly is
Oh, how badly heartbreak scars

a little

The love that they once shared
Was fragile at first, sharp, unrefined
Quickly gaining passionate momentum
Becoming big enough to consume them

So bad it hurts
That sometimes it feels
Is it a curse to be so amorous?
Sensually, the heart pumps love

Rivers, ebbing, flowing
To their deepest, darkest point
Tragedy of uncertainty
Tormenting us to the very brink

I feel lost, in thoughts
Of you and me
Can we go back and sail
On the waters that…

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I can show you God | johncoyote

I can show you God

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I can show you God

A Poem by Coyote Poetry

"

Just thoughts and things to ponder on

"

I can show you GodThe great search for God is fruitless for some. I knew a woman from  Santa Cruz.  We sat together often drinking hot and tasty coffee on the Santa Cruz boardwalk. Her heart was cold and dead.She  told me God is dead and forgotten.
We are just people struggling with no place to go or reasons to be alive.

I smiled and pointed to the sea.
I told her God is alive.
Look at the dancing sea.
The sun above us. Gifts for us from God.

God isn’t our master or guide.
Life is for us to decide.
She looked frustrated and asked.
Don’t God support to protect and save us?
Look at this world. War, murder, violence and dead-ends.”

I requested her to travel with me.
I told her. “I will show you God and you can talk to him
one on one.”

She told me. ” My Dark Poet friend who write of war and death.
Describe love and passion with detail and sadness. What have God
done for you?”

I took her hands and whispered. He had saved me many times.  He led
me to safety from dangerous places and situations. He awoke me to
skip death and maybe I can give someone hope.”

We drove in-land to the California fault line. Took three hours to
reach the fault lines. This was the dream land for the free climbers
of unknown and unmarked areas. There was only a warning sign.
“Caution free flowing rocks”

She open my journal and she read a poem aloud.

“The places of peace

Click Here for More I can show you God | johncoyote.

Checking in with valeriu dg barbu blog | writing, poetry, poems, lyrics, remedy of soul,

The war of the Flies…

La guerra delle mosche…

Războiul muștelor

Trilingual post: English, Italian and Romanian languages

With a huge flyswatter, I kill imaginary flies, imitating the gods or
the hands of clock that hunt my intentions, crushing them one by one
from the walls, imaginary, of course… The hardest part was
with a fly fat and old, you it named the Moon
the whip of the sun hits me on the neck, shoulders, leaving deep furrows
but I cannot stop; even more indomitable I hit the air, the light…
the shadow it sees me a fly, I became a fly, humble, I wait the flyswatter, here it is …arrives

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Con un enorme schiacciamosche, uccido le mosche immaginarie, imitando gli dèi o
le lancette dell’orologio che che caccia le mie intenzioni, schiacciandole una per una
dai muri, immaginari, naturalmente… La parte più difficile è stata
con una mosca grassa e vecchia, voi la nominate Luna
la frusta del sole mi colpisce sul collo, sulle spalle, lasciando solchi profondi
ma io non smetto, ancora più indomito sto colpendo l’aria, la luce …
l’ombra mi vede una mosca, sono diventato una mosca, aspetto umile lo schiacciamosche, eccolo …sta arrivando

Image

Cu o paletă enormă omor muște imaginare, imit zeii sau
acele ceasornicului care îmi tot alergă intențiile, una câte una strivindu-le
pe pereți, imaginari desigur… Cel mai greu a fost cu
o muscă grasă și bătrână, voi îi spuneți Luna
Biciul soarelui îmi plesnește ceafa, umerii, lasă brazde adânci
dar eu nu renunț, și mai îndărătnic lovesc aerul, lovesc lumina…
umbra mă arată muscă, am devenit muscă, aștept blazat paleta, iat-o… vine
Image

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