The 5th Symphony
is the terribly great symphony that scarred the sky
The 5th Symphony
is in the hands of the conductor
with skin like the bitter Prussian snow,
and the eyes of a starless night
The 5th Symphony is played
in the tempo of War,
with the opera of mourning
in the Key of Retribution
The melting of a city made of gold.
The angel of Revenge
forges the weapons
for the sons of Injustice, Wrath, and Survival.
Gardens of peace offerings, swallowed in fire.
before their ghosts could whisk away
the arrows that clothed the ash
were fallen unto them
The edge of the blade condemns the Emperors, and their wives,
yea, even their handmaids to the Pit of Sheol
and their souls are rended apart, down to the dust of the dust,
even before they descend
My world on a piece of paper
Drawn and felt under the Moon's vesper
Simple life I rended
Under a tree I shredded
Early in life I staggered
Held only a pencil and a paper
Walking with shoes of a cobbler
Trudging many roads that bantered
At sixteen my life turned and spinned
In a world not mad, but splinted
At eighteen my world tuned in din
Like a song in a jukebox, worn and tinted
Years passed and my world stayed the same
To act and strive without shame
My thoughts that broke me in two
In a world that honed me to be true
The world is full of mystery
Stand up and walk over misery
God opens a way to relive a life
His name I praise all my life
Past will always be a history
History of any man with clogged stories
Stories that can break you or mend you
Stories of you, all but one in you
They call us 'rents'.
Less kind than kin.
Their words obscured in part
Though their tongues
Are hinged and unpinned.
As if they could think,
But not fully speak,
Their minds formed--
Simple,
Mono-syllabic their words,
Concatenated words,
Puffing and cheeky words.
As if, tongues are burdensome,
Spared the effort spent.
Lips to move--hard pressed,
Breathing steady, no duress,
But a second syllable?
It is seldom expressed.
A decade back
Would we have, yea did,
Spew our poly-syllabic words
Coin of our age
Page upon blessed page
Until, by-and-by,
We had to stop, pause, breathe.
Ah-h-h-h.
And there is the rub!
We made those words last,
If last they could,
If last they would
Longer than we, ourselves.
And where is that language now?
The Next Generation speaks!
Soon Americans will be 'Cans'
Or is that word already
Rendered,
Or rent?
Eh?
Oh, not the 'rents like we
Nor rent once paid as fee,
But rent as rent
As rended, twisted, spent;
Torn in twain,
Until all that is left of the word
Is an honorable mention
A guttural intervention,
A single syllable
Meaningless
Incoherent.
Coinage for a lazy tongue.
If you were to inquire of me
To impart my knowledge about flowers
My answer would be this
I have seen with my own eyes the Tulips blossoming in May
In Holland's field's
On a sunny day
The likes of which my eyes had never seen before
Colors divided into rows so rich
Try as I could
I could never explain
What I have seen
In Colors so perfect they rended my eyes blind
In high resolution definition my vision recalibrated
To a new scale and level
A miracle of nature I knew not had existed
Has blessed me with
I was at one with the greatest gift
A rose can not compete with for sheer beauty
I met the Sphynx at noon,
"I'm tired," I say, "I'd like a nap."
But first she wanted lunch.
"I've brought nothing, except this bologna wrap!"
Says she, "It's you I'd like to munch."
She chewed on my knees,
And now they're both sore.
She rended my heart, but choked.
"Too big," said she, but still wanted more,
My back she therefore poked.
Now here I am, the creature at noon
On legs two I walk
My knees being lame
Her invite to tea I balk
Simply I say, "I've a nap to claim."
Oh for a place to lay my weary head
To seek a haven from the stormy strife
With certainty to give my love and life
And know that I’m adored on sacred bed
Oh for a place to lay my body down
To disrobe of the doubts and naked lie
In opulence of love to gratify
And have true kisses for my head a crown
Oh for a place where doubt dare not appear
Where I can be the one and only dream
Where passion’s not a trickle but a stream
Where arms of love hold all that heart holds dear
I’m wearied from my search for blissful rest
My armor weights me down, my fears assail
From rended heart breaks forth lamenter’s wail
The hope of love from me the world did wrest
Give me a place upon your chest to sleep
Ensure me that your love will steadfast be
Vouch safe to me your ardent constancy
Then with your lips set seal and promise keep
Eileen Manassian
Heart of Seduction
A very kind heart,
And unique style,
Deep eyes and
Charming smile,
Wasn't that enough
To lure and entice ?
You laid a conquest,
Evoked desires,
An eerie power
Ravished the eyes
And seduced my soul,
Settled all scores ?
Solicitude is the end,
Laughter died away,
Tears glittered in eyes,
As dark stars in stormy sky,
A lonely heart,
And barren thoughts,
A hope still awaits,
That dissevers the pain,
And to be in raptures,
Listen to sweet music,
Let brilliant colours fill,
And add an elated bliss!
Come as the winds come,
When Forests are rended !
Written October 12th, 2014
For contest 'Heart of seduction' by Justin Bordner
Awarded HM
Cobwebs On The Rose
Cobwebs on the rosebush
strung from thorn to thorn
Alive with sparkling dewdrops
reflecting pinkened dawn
Where the stricken insects
have rended and have torn
Amid their dying moments see
another rose is born
Suzanne Delaney
He made them believe
He was the real messiah
The mystic leader
who would take them to Zion
His followers threw themselves
into icy pools of water
Rended their clothes
in a frenzy of belief
When he came out of the Sultan's home
wearing a fez
Only a few belivers stayed on
his wavelength
How long must we wait for
the true messiah to reveal himself?
ladder of folly
human hubris appended
divine will rended
Disgrace, is this word too strong? ...
Is this word really wrong?
Disgrace, is this word an appreciated emotion? ...
Is this word a bandaide for a wound that hurts?
Is your pride hurt for certain? ...
Is this word the pain to pride's that is definitely hurtin'?
Does this word bring down the final deathly curtain?
Is your play of life finally ended? ...
All through your life, your needs were sadly stolen.
All the while your needs were not helped or tended.
All through life, your own rules were always bendin'.
In the end, signals for help, you were not sendin'.
Your whole life was uncontrolled by you...
This life was wasted by you.
In the end, your rights were rended...
Had you had gumption, by you, your rights would have been defended.
Disgrace in life is usually never intended.
In life there is no room for disgrace...
In your place of life there is no place.
If you remember this fact in life,
You will win in this life's whole race.
Lick your fingers
And pinch the flame that has no burning passion
Lick your fingers
And check the wind for a new direction
Lick your fingers
And thread the needle for any rended look
And lick your fingers
Turn the page to the next chapter of your book