The Black Sea of Hostility**
I express no willingness to engage in the metaphorical black sea of hostility. It is a misconception to believe that individuals are born with fractured souls; rather, such conditions develop throughout one’s life.
One enters this world devoid of sin, possessing innate virtues and qualities. However, I am not inclined to accept an invitation to your table, where the tablecloth is whiter than the pristine blanket of snow on Monsanto Lake. I will not participate in such gatherings.
Your opulent Gorham silverware glimmers, reminiscent of clusters of grapes hanging from a mountain. Nevertheless, I remain disinterested in both swimming in this sea or dining at a table rooted in animosity.
The children raised in this environment are instructed to disdain the clergy. Meanwhile, violence stains the streets of northern communities as politicians indulge in lavish dinners costing $2,000 per plate. One must question who is safeguarding the gates of moral decay.
The realm of politics is indeed tumultuous.
*Kindred Spirits*
I am often labeled as possessing "special" needs, and while there lies a kernel of truth within that phrase, the needs which burn brightest in my core are no different than yours, dear friend. Just as you crave acceptance, I ache for it too; a longing that colors every sunrise and sunset I witness in this grand tapestry called life.
Like you, I dream of companionship forged through laughter and shared confidences, bonds that render the weight of solitude obsolete. And just as knowledge illuminates the path ahead for anyone brave enough to pursue it, I yearn for chances to learn and grow, to fill the wellspring of my mind with wisdom gained through experience and discovery.
In classrooms filled with desks of various sizes, I sit, eager to absorb lessons tailored to nurture my unique potential. Though some tasks prove elusive, my spirit remains undeterred, for I understand that progress is not measured solely by speed, but by the indelible steps we take towards becoming the best versions of ourselves.
Soft and filled with petals of roses,
I’m dizzy as lingerie falls to the floor.
One door opens as the other closes,
delighted now I am free to explore.
Silk sheet origami such sensual art.
Let us disrupt it, take off my dress.
Are you ready for heat sweetheart?
I already feel more than a little listless.
So gentle yet hard on my insides,
your mouth on my neck I may retch.
An internal flame full of elevated tides,
we’re a vision I could never sketch.
Allowing my silence to take control,
something only you could teach me.
I swore my pen wasn’t on your payroll.
I’m left to give up, give in completely.
Internal debate whether I can stand,
as I fight with falling so hard for you.
Possessing a T.K.O with your left hand,
I’m out cold a victim of our rendezvous.
A picture perfect moment but at a stand still
You can see and even feel a touch that isn't real
Your thoughts and actions are well played out
Waking up and remembering what it's all about
Dreaming of past decisions and present regrets
Making a big promise to someone you never met
How often you see a person possessing no face
At the same time your always in the same place
If you're having a nightmare nothing wakes you
Only the sweet dreams never seem to continue
In your dreams you're never held to a promise
Anything awesome always remains anonymous
You can do things you wouldn't do otherwise
Life in a dream seems to go counterclockwise
Don't give any thoughts to what they may mean
We can escape from reality through our dreams
Palestine
anticipating
life dying trying to save
death from possessing
Writing is just writing --
or deeper communication;
a poem is just a painting
with words, or a heart’s
treasure -- love is never
just love, always something
special - at the least, it is the
comfort of another hand holding --
at best...it is everything
worth possessing – timeless
and immutable.
Deluded wants?, by Daisy kabiu
Was it stupid to want something you never had?
Something that can't be touched.
Possessing it was impossible.
Finding it in all its glory
Raw, unfiltered, and all-consuming, impossible.
Something that can only be given.
Sweet and soft.
Shared, but not owned.
You crave it, thirst for it.
But
Do you really want it?
You see what it does to people, blind, corrupt, and drain their souls.
But you tell yourself, those people don't know how to nurture it.
They are weak.
But aren't you the weak one?
Scared to have something that is right in front of you.
Deluding yourself that you have never found it.
Yet it's all around you.
You're not stupid for wanting it.
You're the coward for not taking it.
It's right in front of you.
Accept it.
Curdling wave of denatured purity
Milk and acid, perverted mated pair
Waltzing, obese ballroom spinners
Twirling, breeders spun by children’s fingers
A fleet, in concentric circles turning.
Churning, in hidden tunnels, empty wombs
Clotted to lumps, a viscous drool
From spout of oesophagus poured
Over that inverted delicacy.
An internal storm blows like fury, shocks
Of bucking, lurching on every wave
Oobleck’s looming clouds
Hailing wet pellets on the deck.
My hands painted,
A globulous maroon
Leaking life-force, un-fatal evacuation
Drawn-out, a living execution
A foetal creature, whining out the morning
Premature to see the day
Too early to bleed.
You are my sworn foe,
Possessing me as what I am
Trapped by you on whom I depend
Breasts, hips, thighs, a soft-skinned face
A body, veneer for lunar torment.
Prophetic to the hour
Of when the next storm will come.
Stranded at sea, men watch from the shore.
Apathetic, indifferent,
Too far away to see
Us, the fleet of spinners
Lost in bleeding seas.
Though the time,
Not possessing
Me and mine.
To think myself
Through a shelf!
Among myself.
Yesterday,
Got a passing pass
Furnishing me
In a thinking,
To think about,
For better tomorrow!
As of now,
In a search trip,
Of myself.
Searching for,
The stolen
And a tomorrow!
Today went along,
Sacrificing itself!
For sometime,
For another,
And the one
Won’t ever come!
"I could've had Elimelech's land,
If not for Ruth the Moabitess' hand.
Elimelech's land has much potential,
But taking a flawed wife was essential.
With the land, I would come out ahead.
With Ruth, I'd ruin my future instead.
So, I let Boaz redeem both of them.
I'm happy to pass this burden to him."
"I use what's flawed to bring blessing.
Ruth's faith in Me allows possessing,
Promises shunned by 'what's-his-name',
Are eternal blessings only faith can claim.
Myopic faith is not really faith at all!
My promises extend far beyond the eyeball.
Ruth and Boaz became channels of blessing,
The Davidic line keeps on progressing!
Their faith goes beyond the immediate story,
It will echo forever in eternal glory,
But 'what's-his-name' will not be celebrated,
His faithless story is forever truncated."
“Wake to the chirping of birds, get elated by their songs, allow the music to settle in your heart and dismiss all defeatist thoughts. Instead of burrowing like a mole, fly high like a bird” ~ By Poet
Oh! Lovely little bird, soaring and swirling,
Sliding and sweeping, making the sky your pathway,
Possessing the poet’s soul, you make me cheerful,
With songs mellifluous and melodious.
You dive and glide through cotton candy clouds,
With dizzy spells and a spirit so buoyant.
You roam and ride through air, trusting on your wings.
You are out on an odyssey to cross a thousand seas.
With black and beady eyes, you spot everything,
And watch the world from up above.
You wear a dazzling robe of vivid bluish hues.
You have rainbow pinions and a beak so sleek.
You chirpy friend, as you sing in tuneful voice from above,
Your songs fall in my ears as midnight choir from afar.
As you warble in sweet rhythm and lovely cadence,
You tell me that sweet spring of beauty and bliss is here.
Echo of distant cries,
quadruped steps deepening into dusk—
wind folding the earth’s breath.
Craftsman of the spider web,
seas of lightning possessing the sky.
Guardian of the other side,
conceiver of comings and goings,
I will meet you soon—
after the waning of many moons,
God-willing—I will meet you soon!
Til then
you will wait—
til the fateful rain washes the earth,
til the sky weeps every secret.
You will wait
as the mountain lion sleeplessly
soaks up the storms to
keep her last babe dry.
Eternal Demon Era
Humanity has failed. Man became a wolf to man
Where are the saints? Where? The hope is silent
His words live. Denied teachings. People like gold
People like ephemeral and perishable life and values
And this is the end. Humanity pleases itself. Discord
Complete split in existence. Look around. Grey lives
Human spiritual science has trampled on God’s laws
Evil science. For possessing mental power over humanity
This is organized crime
Psychological terrorism
End of it.
Angels said.
Here is the new age
Driven by demons
Powered by Satan
New age
High-tech life
Flourishing…
…World
…And soul worlds
Eternal
Demon
Era
The birth of an indomitable only instigates forces to envy
he comes to the world complete but flawed by a blonder
the journey will be long, his sail will be wavy
but his glue to success, he's letting no asunder
obstacles only makes the climbing more classy by the Ivy
the thorns are overcomed to reach beyond and yonder.
A car crash of the 70s and his fate is inflicted with scurvy
possessing the billboard's apex, that's his first rejoinder
three consecutive albums of the year, this is not a movie
even with sight depleted, he's a 25-time commander
his "happy birthday" song that makes a sadist groovy
lets martin the junior-king grateful and honoured from under.
Accolades and trophies make the cabinet full and heavy
rock and roll, rhythm and blues, his prowess is on the calendar
who said disability is a hindrance not to make one savvy?
Those who ultimately lose are the ones who surrender
now an epitome of peace and freedom, that's our beloved Stevie
achieving against all odds to make the people always wonder.
Having A Thought
Miracle Man
2/25/2025
Thoughts remain in the delivery room
until the tongue gives them birth.
Many thoughts go full term
but some are birthed premature.
Thoughts kept corralled I hold title to,
but once shared they graze on open range
becoming vulnerable to any unscrupulous
cowboy possessing a running iron.
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