I never said the fish was that big,
just long enough for your surprise.
Yes, the sky did fall down once -
though not in ways you've come upon.
The art of the little white lie
is a Trojan horse disguised
to catch your attention.
To trick you to pose or question
what you'd never otherwise ask.
The lie, error or mistake,
flips the mind to correction,
demanding reparation.
It works a treat for advertisers
lecturers, presenters, debaters and charlatans.
It begs the question, demeans the ask-er,
but masters the magician's
conjuring tricks of deception.
A fool takes the bait,
a wise one casts acting the fool.
Do not wear pride like a necklace
For God detests pride and arrogance
Pride does not go unpunished
Pride leads to disgrace
Humility is rewarded with wisdom
While pride begets destruction
Cause it takes credit for God’s accomplishments
And covets God’s glory
Pride demeans others
It arrogates sense of Almightiness
To a mere mortal
Pride stifles growth of other virtues
Makes one to reject help needed
Prevents one to listen and help others
And deludes one into believing
In one’s self sufficiency
But in reality Pride is admission of weakness
Pride leads to extreme selfishness
Pride does not gratify
Pride does not exulte
Rather it dehumanizes and belittles
Why Can’t We Refrain From:
Gossip that hurts us
War that kills us
Hatred that divides us
Revenge that destroys us
Prejudice that separates us
Selfishness that defines us
Greed that impoverishes us
Corruption that demeans us
Egoism that dominates us
Because sin defines us
Although you've watched the world
and rode the word
You've never known your age
until at 60 it arrives
Decidedly single
albeit with penfriends
you straddle the torments
70s music for recompense
Your garden overgrown
to save on gardeners fees
demeans what should be your glory
like a full set of hair
that you lack
but i carve my rune on the elm bough
in Croham woods that hold me
Exhausted
I once loved a man so much, that I yearned for his touch.
His complex issues, were so confusing.
Bruising our emotions.
Where we once joyfully danced to, Pachelbel Canon In D.
The pain he carried from the past I did not know; as he was not aware of mine.
Laughing by the beach.
Playing baby Einstein for our little ones.
In the blink of an eye it all came undone.
Like a broken hearted song.
I tried to understand, he pushed me away.
Causing a couple of greys.
He is now quite revengeful, this man I once knew.
His love grew to hate, in a voice that berates.
If only time could have put our love on pause so we could mature as a team.
Then I could build a defense from his high self esteem.
That only demeans.
Yet fails to redeem.
This generational pain, and abuse beat me down.
Now I wear a permanent frown.
Exhausted from your put downs.
Through rose colored glasses we see a universe full of opportunity, desire, obstacles, triumphs.
The journey of love offers optimism for most.
But a broken heart demeans the soul, all the while nihilism sinks in.
The sinking boat hits rock bottom, again.
It’s a problem; this plight for life.
With the ups and downs, big smiles and frowns.
I’ve turned into a skeptic wondering why the universe is full of meek individuals, and some so abrasive?
Opposites struggling to survive in a world that links together pleasure and sin.
Where do our values sink in?
Why were they lost?
Did you not understand the cost?
With dating sites, hook-ups, and casual flings.
The divorce rate in America is on an upswing.
A gentleman that acted in noble motives of men, He’s my HERO
He never demeans others when he easily can, He’s my HERO
A mentor that lives in Champions never dies, He’s my HERO
He that converted sorrow to laughter, He’s my HERO
He that we called and call sadness eraser, He’s my HERO
With humility again,
He gazes in the sky and Shining on us like a
FOREVER-SHINING SUN,
Because "Oku olomo kin sun." He’s my HERO
He lives-on in Us and He never left Our Stories, He’s my HERO
Yes! his generosity never Stopped, forever,
His name remains our Access PIN to Many, He’s my HERO
We call him "Everyday Father Xmas", He’s my HERO
He never used Generator BUT He Lights up homes and Businesses, He’s my HERO
He that invented Leader and Stars never Dies, Yes! Never dies
He was my Boss and my Mentor, Yes! Never dies
His name is:
Late Prince (Alhaji) Hon. Morufdeen Adeola Adefolabi (Alheri)
Yes! Never dies
Poet
Kolawole Owoigbe
@kolabooks
The soul aches for
what the mind demeans
While the heart weeps
the brain whirs and spins
Human race, don’t boast on the casualty coast
Frisking, seeking, pricking and nicking the truth
On a continental coast as to your truth you toast
Sending to Coventry the uncouth
Pummeling the truth, belittling the youth
Whose views you deride
As your rollercoaster swings South
In the company of your petty pride
In tow to brandish the interpretation
You vaunt with no iota of shame
At the place of honour you accord to the incantation
You blurt in the claim
You push far above merit
Twisting the truth, alienating allies
Although the truth you fail to inherit
In the realm where lies and flies
Sometimes cohabit
Dancing in tandem with hubris
Cultivated into a horrible habit
Which tends to increase
At sunup, at sunset
When the truth cries
Causing a major upset
As the zone of the truth decries
Sufferings the truth endures
In diverse fora
Where jesters ensure cures
Arrive fast to prevent error and terror
From decimating puritan platforms
Preventing them descending into the farce
That demeans the truth in its multifarious forms
While ascertaining misinterpretation remains sparse.
The amiable knife
demeans it might
schizophrenic in sight
takes the plunge
Savouring the blight
lures the fight
He waited too long
serendipitous sight
For I stole the knife.
Why
are there
stars in heaven above
annoying pinpricks in the firmament?
No need for black holes if all stars were shot on sight.
The reach for the stars is hopeless they are so far away we can never visit them.
Knowing the vastness of the universe belittles and demeans us to insignificance.
We would all feel a lot better, sleep a lot better, if stars were switched off.
Like city lights, stars glare, twinkle, flash so bright all night
that we cannot sleep, and shut shutters are so stifling.
If no stars shone, we could leave the curtains open.
Better not to know what may be out there
when aliens may be coming to get us
Celestial abstinence and solitude
is what we all cherish.
Let us hold a vote.
Raise your hands
if you want
all the stars
switched
to off;
stars
shot.
All alone, in the surreal, rayless eventide, gnarly, disheveled hands gouging from the rooted Earth, tongue forever tied. Melancholia echoing through Gods breath, despondency wrenching your azure-splashed jeans, the susurrus of the Devil's proclamation chirping out sadistic demeans.
All alone, breathlessly jabbing at Lucifers servants with your brandishing feet, salty droplets bedaubing your face, disquietude gripping your palpitating heartbeat. Waves of stress rippling across your forehead, perusing the foggy twilight, searching for your best friend.
All alone, crumpling to your knees, croaking out their name, conceding to Hell's winsome pleas. Sinking through the sepia spotted soil, choking on your solitary sloughing tears, catechizing with your friends, questioning your unaccommodating peers, inquiring why they aren't here, reaching out instead of these back stabbing villains.
Yes I know love, I know her well
For I'm a hunter who excels
Who knows his prey by sound and smell
And signs that tell, and signs that tell.
I've hunted love so long it seems
I'd know her even in my dreams
I've seen her victims she demeans
And those she weans, and those she weans.
My trophy mounts stare tauntingly
Their cold dead eyes laugh mockingly
"Yes, you got us but where is she?"
They laugh at me, they laugh at me.
I hear them now inside my head
They're daring me to push ahead
To have her fur spread o'er my bed
Her arms widespread, her arms widespread.
Yes I know love, that is you see
I've tracked her now relentlessly
But like the unicorn that flees
She runs from me, she runs from me.
Timothy I. Brumley
In the human equation,
life's reduced to statistics.
It's the patterns that matter,
zero or one, on or off.
Confronting indifference,
fear festers into anger.
And gnawing pangs of hunger
force the soul to question sin.
As lechery deals in flesh,
hypocrisy sets the price.
And a substitute for love,
lust is an expensive dish.
Reality demeans dreams
while embracing fantasy.
And buries encrypted truths
waiting to be deciphered.
Genetically linked, we're
individually cast.
Yet our programmable lives
are governed by statistics.
To me my best friend is my wonderful husband
I have a small group of friends whom understand,
That my world is always being with my best friend
We are so close that we definitely defend,
Anyone whom judges and demeans both of us
I guess you could say we have each others backs when there is a fuss,
It doesn't matter that we have haters out there
Because in our world we don't really care.
Written By: Unique Poetry 2015
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