THE TWO UNLIKE-POLE ANALOGY
Analogically, this simplicity of poles might communicates
extensive comparison of things life usually complicate.
Just as the tale of "magno magnets",
Like-poles repulsively repels even off a border
and unlike-poles abnormally attract one another.
The north pole of two magnets are set asunder;
Opposite poles of two magnets attract each other,
but the like-poles are overly at loggerheads,
Similitude to electric charges which postulate same rules:
Like-charges repel, and unlike-charges attract.
This theory sums up the summary of a proven fact.
The irony of life is, two different souls are match-made,
We're bedazzled with such common rarity that doesn't fade.
It's sporadic to have two people with same traits
or cosmic (birthday) twins becoming soul mates.
By taking a leaf out of the analogy of unlike-poles,
attraction is established and so is unlike souls.
Vick Manuel Poetry {VMP}
Form: Rhymes
Copyright©January,2023.
Trapped within it, as though owned by
World's glamour-creed, the devil.
No mirror, up to the real held.
Soul, repulsively evil.
My Lord, you brought me to this rich land.
Your blessings overflow out of the hands of your people,
the brains of your people,
the hearts of your people,
the autopsies of your people.
Wait for me
to bring my best
as these brought their best.
To offer my self,
To offer sacrifice,
To make (in) awe and gratitude,
For the fat-land-oil-people you’ve laid out before me,
on repulsively seductively repulsive boards in vaults,
For the person you have made me to be,
'cause God don’t make no junk,
But all I do,
all I bring,
all I have
to offer is marred,
scarred by my Self-
Inability-
Flitting-
Distraction-
Consciousness-
Appraisal-
Failure-
Hunger-
Drought,
My Lord, isn’t there a blessing left
in Milkandhoneyland
For me?
I have bad luck with eggs.
No sooner do I get them
All packed in nicely;
Than someone comes along and smashes the lot.
Sometimes I don't even require the assistance
Of the phantom egg smasher,
I fall over
and
drop
them
all
on the concrete.
Strange,
Some eggs get spoilt easily.
They go rotten,
All repulsively pungent;
Green inside
and blow up!
I borrowed
An egg basket once.
It looked just the same
As my own basket,
And when I packed my eggs in
Neatly:
They
still
got
smashed.
Better to leave my eggs with the hen,
Or put them in the refrigerator.
'Cause eggs apparently ain't meant
For carrying round and round
In any old basket.
Cecelia Hopkins, 1985
When once I trek wearily lonely on a path
As I knew life unknowingly could pour it's wrath.
I tried not to get myself entangled
In life's problems, but unceasingly I wrangled
Until I met a maiden on whom's words I stood
Then fighting life's problems I knew I could.
Repulsively, I skid off my way;
My face whenever she saw, she try to look away
Then to her my flaws I said I knew
And the chasm between us she sew.
The almighty all things we know could gather
Verily I perceive has brought us together.
But though all things were made for our general use,
Many a time things do not fuse
But my mistress whose love is so innocent and free
Let me grow near her like a tree
On which with her love she could water
Making our bond so strong none could alter.
As a beauty i know she is a star
And there is none like her by far
Cause all beauty she is accounted to possess
And love, none can match her in her prowess.
But at the end life is but a walking shadow
And your hour if you abuse and fret, then ends your show
But our life a memoir would be, then unleashing a MEMENTO.
YOU
Your
Uncaring eyes
Push me
Repulsively
Praise me down
In a pit of abysmal.
Your balance ego
Keeps me on the void
Painted walls
Hidden truth
Take heed
While I,
Twitch
Bitter
Words
Of yuck
Behind your back.
~*~
These dreams, they scare me
They fully control me.
They prevent me from moving.
And silence all my screams.
The screams I see
They never leave me.
For even when I walk
In the shadows those screams they follow me.
I fear sweet slumber.
I fear its perilous test.
Its shakes me to my bone.
And frightens me like a pest.
As my eyes close
In that bodily need to rest.
My hands start trembling.
And my heart starts to fret.
For once again I know
There will be murder. There will be gore.
Death as we see it
And death as I know.
Such a bloody scene it seems to be.
So angry and such ill fate
So much blood I refuse to see.
Blood on the floor and blood soaking my soul.
A violator, a bloodthirsty killer.
A revengeful sister.
A knife. A nail.
A sharp object of many a face.
A stabbing pain
A chilling scream
My racing heart
Echoing her dying dream.
The end is it?
So does it seem.
Fooled and deluded
In joy so repulsively.
Just as I think
This horror will end.
Once again, she comes around
To continue this vicious circle
Of death, stealing sleep
BY
Amanda.M.Miller
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