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Why do bad things happen to good people?Why does suffering come to the weak and feeble?Misery doesn't come to us simplyWhatever fruit we plant, will grow on the tree Why do we see good people suffer?They pray to God, but are denied supper The resu
Red birds dancing from branch to branch, their melodies filling the air, Simple consciousness brings peace, love at it’s basic level of vibration, All the while higher levels of beings surround and are filled with despair,
Innocence, purity of the heart and soul. Distant from the grasp of reality. Untouched, unharmed, unphased by philosophical question. Who are we?
Though our earthly bodies have never met His soul gingerly caresses mine His aura has touched mine countless times We're always connected My heart chakra glows, hums A single cord of silver etheric energy
The End of the tunnel, What this holds is my own glimpse of loop, A lamp full of treacherous flow, Reminding us all our repetitive deeds,
Under this veil of anonymous curtain, Gone rogue with my destiny to the mountains, I cried a hopeful bunch of nuts and crowds, My only repertoire blazed in agony,
Running green in our hands, Dyed yellow in our eyes, A distance of our own ancestral kin, Half of the distance shared by our people,
Life is like a sailboat caught b/w 2 shores : joy & happiness and sorrow on the end, this world is a song of God : sometimes joyful, sometimes sorrow, it is mirror of our mind that resonates with this song,
Consciousness This is a journey. My heart leads and I follow.
I know what you're thinkingI can read your mindYou thought I was jokingYou thought I was blind You think I'm some guyWho kinda likes to rhymeYou think I'm a writerWith way to much time
Dear Mind, you and I we share a kind of love-hate relationship, some might say toxic when we first met for a second, you had me fooled you convinced me I was depressed,
Dear Now, I could start this out by saying "Hello," But I think we both know it would go a little bit more like (sigh) "Hello... again."
Wording, words, thinking think-Pulsing backwards, concentration and circulation continuing, but pulsing is all I feel.Everything turns fuzzy, my mind, my life, my eyes, picturesque moments begin to fog up.
Dear Depression, Your waves rushed over me The pain was comparable to the sting of your biggest bee Your words
All these materials glitter through my name, This is why I never intended to seek any fame, A labradorite of meaning always held my glory, And I never used my connotation to create a story,
Machinations of imagination I'm a native to contemplation It's the savior from condemnation He's a sailor of condensation This conversation's copulating And populating noggins fading
You call to me in the night, A silent black monolith of blue light, Looming in my waking thoughts and dreams, Punching buttons and tapping strings, The world I think is dull and grey,
Land of the free and the home of the brave? More like land of the thieves and home of the slaves! Taxation steals money all over the nation. We're working for the government on this corporate plantation.
Yeah… the story begins inside of a black hole. The exit is clear but you can’t seem let go. You feel rooted down to the bottom of the pit, There’s nothing here, so why haven’t you let go?
Good morning great morning the sun is up it is burning my soul on fire raging like its storming grateful for the day i am earning
When the sky begins to fall, be ready to catch the stars. For the beauty of it all, will lie within your heart. An ever expanding reality created from the dark, bursting out of imagination as light you must embark.
I’m staring into the eyes of a man I don’t recognize. He looks back at me, eyebrows raised. His expression is cryptic, yet exuding empathy. “Don’t you look at me like that”,
Be the one well traveled, hold truth higher than your comfortand your faith will set you free.
In this state of my existing poetry means to me An endless free-flowing form of energy. An idea, an emotion expressed in waves Of vocalizations from my brain. The ability to convey What some can't see
I sit as light wanes But rain remains a staple On my skin keeping me stuck to the bleachers I begin to wonder
Make me busy. Engorge the lazy, shiftless minutes of my waking hours with thoughtless labor. Make me work, make me eat, make me work again, until the sun goes down.
As I shot into eternity, "I" died. I, who is only familiar to me, obliterated and forgotten. This was it. This... was. Bright, forgiving light, showered upon my existence. Bathed in Glory, I was reborn.
It is my conscious will My want to always till A world that never stays still. It is my conscious awareness My life I impress On a world ravaged with tests. It is my conscious emotion
I feel empty,
Under shadow of the blissful black
As I sink into the sandy shores, I feel the turbulent ocean pull me in, Retracting and extending her bountiful body, I sit in the serenity of whimsical winds,
A strong grip on my spear of light,
Away from my body, Exiting the mental noise. I observe the feathered edge of light Surrounding these form-bearing objects. What is the meaning of meaning? The stem-held nerve endings sway
To all of those who have no lives
To acknowledge we're something, to oppose the murder of consciousness, to bend knee toward the last exhalations of fields of lukewarm corpses shouting the symphony of remorse;
These humble teeth and tongue clatter in vain to articulate the fascination, inspiration, and empowerment I derive endlessly from my own mortality, unable to comprehend this yet personal and
All my life I found it hard to properly express myself
Traveling on my sub-conscience whim
Sequel to Maya Angelou: Still I Rise
A drop of melatonin
"Do close your eyes and awaken from the pain Re-read the tears separated from rain Mi, only mi, will tell you when your sane," Father has told me, once and again.
Thoughts are as common as the world And at the same time they shape it Sticking to our detailed minds making them twirl
Glowing, azure sky... Under this we jubilate... Paradise is here.
Wealthy and powerful take all that we've worked for Truth is distorted, with illusions and folklore Much exploitation for money and profit You will be punished if you try to stop it
Disguises for hypocrisy. Blinded by democracy. Honestly, do We know why We go to war and children die? Contradicting insanity - Thou shalt not kill, all of humanity.
Lesser- Positive By: Anyssa Q. E There began balance- There began space. Empty matter far displaced. Within darkest dark, Pitch as Black, Strings suspended- Light was made.
I feel like I’m one dimensional I feel like I’m the only one who sees how I see I feel like the harder I try to be exceptional The more flaws are pointed out to me I’m scared of what’s ahead
The walls of a former insitution Make up the constitution Of my school Where its cool To be utterly complacent Completely adjacent To anything that matters I can't have empathy
charm eyed stare down honey I see you shrinking did you know drunk men aren’t always drinking?
Listen insideMake all your feelings rhymeBare this heartand you tear right and wrong apart Behind jealous eyesunloved souls cry;lie snared, awaitfor arid gardens to reciprocate
Hypnotic, neurotic venom of Nirvana- You bloom like the petals within my veins. As we sink to the ground; decomposing with an imperial clout... Will we still seek to know our story?
This slave-like mentality, quite simply the reality of our warlike principalities whose brazen nationality is worn thinly by brutality fledged from personalities
Once upon a time, I had felt a rhyme. When I feel I’m behind, should I express my mind? When a bird falls, it knows to fly. Without it’s mom’s calls, it soars to the sky.
Look around and see eyes staring. Wonder what they see when they look at me. Can they see what I feel or can they see the disguise i cover myself with. Do they see the confused and scared girl?
PHASE I I have big dreams with standards set high The same-old same-old, with me, won’t fly I live in a country whose president looks just like me Don’t know who he’s working for yet, but we’ll see
The wind that torrents the fluctual seas Is the same breeze refreshing overworked men Cooling their sweaty brow, rustling the trees Giving living motion to Ocean's end Pollen spreads plant life, humans get annoyed
The way the ignorant bystander lurks, Enclosed with thoughts and society pressure, Cradles their mind possessing hundreds of blisters, Thinking they might overcome the silence.
Am I moving in the right direction? Are you all here, or are you just a reflection? Or am I a reflection of you, even if I am does that change the view? I am me and me is you. All the same being with one consciousness; skewed.
A few weeks ago I was reading a book on theater And someone saw me reading and told me, "Black people don't read". That made me sad. Then the quote started to sink into my thoughts and it started to make me mad.
Bump and bop and knock then stop. It’s a rhythmic beat to reap the sleep and see what’s been shown, not meet what’s been known over and over again, just changing how it flows from pen to pen or mind to mind.