The stream (all workshops)
Mucks are must…
Laws excepted are very forces.
More in natures all are very fixations.
Laws with complexes all are lords.
Lords that lord are fit at fixes.
Cyprian nobles CURILO named.
Some enjoy our colds and stiff for comforts just are wet.
Crimes that wetted are not that called.
Nature calls are easy things.
Bloods that fetch or cashes that seize are politic trickery.
Complete apathy all may suffer as die.
All to stir the leaders’ wrongs are mucks that must.
MUCKAMUCK is social must.
With my jaded western eye I see
a woman and her family
next to a home bombed-out and done
after the rockets are all gone,
but I realize that as I look
I only see what rockets took,
and not the air-raids or the bombs
that smashed so many Gaza homes,
and the burqa I am looking at
is not symbolic of the fact
that she is oppressed by those
who started warfare with their blows;
it is instead a statement of
her faith that almighty God above
protects her and her family
from those who call her enemy,
The “Big Kahuna’s” tent was shaking
breathing in and out
There were little sobs and screams
As he pushed away his doubts
A young “Wahini” fleeing
from the canvas flapping shade
Tears streaked upon her face
She feels so fucked... betrayed
He cannot let her go
she will tell the world
What he did to her
the “little surfer-girl”
She races for the water’s edge
but he’s too quick for that
He grabs her slender neck
and throws her body flat
Always on the go
Pursuing happiness
chasing bliss
following a rainbow
trailing an afterglow
reliving old memories
tracing past glees
stalking mystery
Escaping sadness
shunning madness
hiding from tears
evading fears
fighting the years
avoiding the shadow
sneaking to and fro
always on the go
Soon after the earthquake
We were left with a broken home
When my dad made the mistake
Of leaving us alone
From support failing by being torn apart
the ground trembled along with my heart
And from that day it has not been the same
And there's only one man to blame
My "Father", that person who promised the universe
And in return gave us this curse
Of always being under a cloud
He must be really proud
My head aches from endless cogitations,
eyes full of unshed tears bluring vison,
A little heart burdened with the load of unreflected love,
love athsma makes breaking a difficulty,
unreplied loves the:
most painful punishment, worst form of tortue,
The skys filled with my sighs,
heaven suffers an onslaught of supplication; 'God please answer this prayer, let her love me as i love her.'
The
hil l top
repub l icans
they-sit-in-their-separate-houses-to-govern
alo ofa bov eth ewa shi ngt ons esp lan ade
lin col nwa tch esf rom his mon ume nts eye
ast hen eww orl dtu rns and peo ple pas sus
In-time-step-by-step-we-will-sort–this-great-country-out
Beckon…
Blurters put their words on bucks.
Life with bucks is more than lucks.
Freudian slips are says are bad.
Sell your Betty all are sad.
Blushless pays will buy your names.
Train her ways and all may tame.
Trainee fields are training goals.
Win my Betty all are those.
Traitors blurt the words of classes.
Sell your nations all must pass.
Roses and wines are PINKO drinks.
Water damages some are rains.
Beckon…
Blurters put their words on bucks.
Life with bucks is more than lucks.
Freudian slips are says are bad.
Sell your Betty all are sad.
Blushless pays will buy your names.
Train her ways and all may tame.
Trainee fields are training goals.
Win my Betty all are those.
Traitors blurt the words of classes.
Sell your nations all must pass.
Roses and wines are PINKO drinks.
Water damages some are rains.
haunted rotations
the nail hum
a moon lifeless and pale
floats in the frozen field
of stars
like icebergs
shattered
and orphaned
alone
a dorm room phone rings
a handset lifting
and your voice
sweet and full of sleep
says Hello
Pages
(c) Neopoet.com. No copyright is claimed by Neopoet to original member content.