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lol - A Poem for my WifeThey were once a happy couple
But now resentment seems to linger
It has been 6 months now
Time you came and pulled on my finger
The make-up has gone
and now it's curlers to bed
Time to see my psychiatrist
And find out what's wrong with my head
Take the garbage out she bellows
I heard this to so many times before
As I drag the bag to the curb
I call her nasty names like bitch and whore
With each day her list grows longer
How much more can she demand of me
This question steady in my head
Perhaps it is time to run and be free
Now now she tries to dress me
Always telling me what not to wear
My head says one thing
but my mouth always says "Yes, Dear"!
The Eyes Tell No LiesThis poem was inspired by a friend and this is a basic interpretation of her relationship struggles.
The fear of hurt continues to linger.
As I have been hurt so many times before.
Are they possibly the one for me?
For this is the person that I want to adore.
I look deep into their soul
And as I peer into their eyes
I continue to sit and wonder
Is this physical beauty just a disguise?
Past the iris a familiar feeling stirs
I have seen this to many times before
The eyes so contradicting
Not this time, I will be a fool no more.
As my feelings fade
And the fear eats me whole
It has become painfully obvious
This person needs some makeup for their soul.
I shall continue my search
from the caverns below to the beautiful skies
I will know my true love
I'll just need to look into their eyes.
The Ugliness of ConceitThe Ugliness of Conceit
She checks the mirror
Feels that beauty is abound
So perfect in her own mind
She's ready for a night on the town
Heels so high
Cleavage so low
Hair is perfection
It is soon time to go
She scours the bar rooms
In seek of a suitor
But no takers again
She just wants someone to love her
So sure of her beauty
She reminds all her prey
"What is wrong with them;" She asks
But no takers this day
She sits and cries
Asks; "Why don't I feel whole"
What this poor gal needs
Is some make-up for her soul
Keep It RealWhereas diasporic communities
Have to been attempting to separate themselves
From harsh sun and seasons,
Without reason, others have built their lives between
The cracks of statements such as:
“Keep it real”
Or, “This shit is dope”.
Motherfuckers better realize
Now, is time to self-actualize.
g-Host b-LinkTo witness disobedience of dogs of the Matrix;
Are souls breaking free or is it part of the script?
Do even the patients begin losing patience
Attempting to dissect what they cannot reflect?
Are implications of home not enough of a bone
To be thrown to the starving who plot against the throne?
Too sober to stagger with their cloak-and-dagger,
Dehydrated parasites starving for insight
on what a nomadic soul is composed
when compressed into senses and structured and clothed
and closed off from links to a red-herring source
by force and by failure to
And by what right
Does a false light take flight
While uncomfortable truths
Take their place out of sight?
When confronted, you contort.
When in question, you distort.
By lies you are comprised
Yet by every report, you
Every second you delay me, every thought that disobeys me,
Every law of attraction failing due to inaction,
Every memory haunting, regardless how daunting,
The ReignDrip Drop,
Down the drain.
Oh the reign
The dew will form.
Human ChessIsn't the world in black and white?
Isn't the world in 8 by 8?
Aren't we all part of some
Sick, inhumane game of chess,
Being played off against one another?
Are we pawns?
Then why are we being played,
like mere peices,
cogs in a machine,
to acheive an end goal?
It's because of divide and conquer.
An army of 100 is a lot easier to defeat
When it is only an army of 10.
We are being split, you see.
Black and white,
male and female,
old and young,
all subcategories, to keep us
Unity seems to be a word humanity forgot;
the idea, the essence of standing together,
under the principle that we're all
is alien to us now.
So here we are,
There's nothing going our way, as
because we are being divided.
And yes, we are being conquered.
In this sick, corrupt world of ours,
where every fork in the road
cuts like a knife,
we must pick the higher path.
We must not fall for the illusion that
there is no unity.
We must unite.
We must join, u
Bloody noseTotal desperation
Across the plains
Across the oceans
We try to ignore the fact that over our ruling
All we have is the pathetic fact that we never stop
We truly have to
The souls that we vanquished
And left buried in concrete
The once sun raised children
Burnt out by our fires
And we destroy
Words that mean nothing to us
In buildings we laugh
On land we cry
We make borders
We make walls
We make the heads roll like waterfalls
turned into a holocaust
A huge one at that
All around the world
We still build over the weeping
Kept tight in your little wall
Someday it will fall
What will you do then when they finally realize
What we all have become?
StarrsinnWohin werden uns unsere Wege noch führen
Wenn eines Tages unsere Herzen auskühlen
Und wir mit gleichgültig stumpfen Schmerzen kaum spüren
An den Grundfesten unserer Träume zu rühren;
Auf dem Weg in den Sarg
Bricht manch einer arg
Und mannigfach mich sich;
Jedes Herz ist eine revolutionäre Zelle,
Bis zum Biss ins Grab.
Egomanie aus Empathie
Zu den Liebsten,
Stramm in die gesicherte Zukunft
Hoch über den Köpfen der anderen,
Um stetig nach unten zu blicken
Vor dem eigenen Fall
Fallen ja noch all' jene
Das sind viele.
Die Altendie Welt die sie hinterließen!
jedes verbesserte Werk
richtet sich leidvoll
moderne Rollstühle quietschen nicht
ihr Antrieb funktioniert
Jugend eilt neuen Wünschen nach
alles Alte wird neu
bloß ihr Neues ist alt
sie murmeln - doch niemand hört zu
Erfahrung bewahrt vor Konsum
die nie Zeit für Großeltern hatten
das kapitalistische Gesetz
Krüppelhände greifen ins Fassungslose
Kasernenlider unterm Heiligenbild:
immer am Start
© j.w.waldeck 2010
Please do nout use
anything of my work!
the firstthose who speak are ignored
those who believe are condemned
those who are equal are classed
those who are free are trapped
gaiai hear her cries as if
they were my own and
i want to hold her and say that
it will turn out alright,
the pain will subside,
in the end it will all turn to silence
and i try, so hard so hard
to grasp at her with my
and feel the rumble of life
beneath the crust of my home
for she is growing
and she is so young,
in this vast expanse of nothingness
she shines with the brilliance of
a newborn child
learning to breathe
but i fear,
for she is so young and yet
her time is running out,
spilling between my fingers and
it is my fault, i who do nothing but
stand and watch as she hurts
as she is tortured by the
forces of man,
fuelled by greed and the
need to push us forward,
to fit us all on her body,
as if we were so significant
and i feel her wrath,
her wish to purge herself of
this plague that is us,
and i sit in serenity
waiting for her to strike us
with the strength of four billion years.
Pharmacy Freedom Poem - Natural HealthPharmacy Freedom
Some call it a conspiracy
And opinions do vary
No matter the reasoning
It is all still quite scary
Our symptoms are masked
But our illnesses remain
They are keeping us sick
For their own monetary gain
Chemicals are our Medicines
And the world has become lazy
But somehow us Naturalists
are the ones that they call crazy
It is even in our Bibles
A part of a divine plan
That God created herbs
For the service of man
I refuse to be murdered
No longer a victim to greed
From this moment forward
My medicine will start as a seed
How It Began"God, your two o'clock is here."
"I have a two o'clock?"
"He's been here since 7:45. I figured it's only polite to... sir."
God sighed. "Fine, send him in."
While He waited God cleared His desk of papers and blueprints; no need for outsiders to see His plans. Soon enough the door to His office opened and God stood, smiled, held out a hand towards one of the two visitor's chairs.
"God! Great stuff you're doing in sector 2-7-0! Great stuff!"
The man's hands were clammy, his handshake limp. Rumpled suit, porkpie hat, briefcase... oh Jes-- oh dear, a salesman. God's smile slipped a little but He soldiered on gamely. With luck He could shoo the poor guy away in a few minutes.
"So, what can I do for you?"
The man sat, briefcase across his knees. "Sector 2-7-0! Everyone's talking about it! What do you call it? Man and merman?"
"Man and woman, actually. And thanks. But we're pretty busy around here, and..."
"Oh! Right! No time for the wicked, eh?" The salesman winked and popped his briefcase,
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scheinbar is a much-loved and well-known deviant. Just one look at her gallery, filled with enchanting photography, will have you mesmerized. A deviant for over 7 years, Christiane can always be found posting inspirational features as well as regularly commenting on other deviations and encouraging and empowering her fellow deviants. We are inspired and insist that you too stop by and congratulate ... Read More