The One
I am the one who's been Chosen,
I the only one in this.
DISMISSED!
Only to be unheard,
In this torture called life
Would give cause to the disturbed.
INSANE!
Some may say,
But who really is to judge
Who really is to blame.
For this I have been Chosen.
Listen
Listen to the rhythm of the rising sun.
Listen to the words spoken by the shunned.
Hear the many people who created life.
Who spoke strong words through all their strife.
The world today is seen through those eyes.
Always remember and listen to the sunrise.
I am who I am
I am who I am,
and i don't know.
I'm not who you see,
that's only my show.
I am who is seen,
but not through normal eyes.
I am who I am,
and that's my disguise.
I often wonder,
just who I am.
I'm just as unique,
as every other man.
I am myself,
that's who i am.
And then there's my question.
Who am I again?
An Abusive Paradox
He’s in my head,
Like a shadow within.
When I’m to dead to live,
He comes out with my grin.
He never stops ,
He doesn’t even let me breath.
He once was a necessity,
But now hell never leave.
He lurching over my shoulder,
Even as we speak.
I would run,
But I cant even get on my feet.
He’s beating me to life,
He suffocating, I can barley see.
He’s lost the only person,
Who ever cared about me.
I used to love him,
He use to make me feel free.
But now I despise the fact,
That He and I are Me!.
Sonnet # 1
If there is beauty in only a name
Then it's that beauty which I adore.
For only with her my heart becomes tame
Through freedom of our love my heart can soar.
Words can't describe the beauty of her eyes
For if they could, they would be on this page.
Many would say, that my lines are all lies
It's only their jealous heart causing rage.
Her beauty is captured by natures hand
Her perfection lasts all eternity.
Together, untamed hearts will always stand
For my love is as boundless as the sea.
It is your elation that consumes me
Your my dream, my muse of lucidity.
Sonnet # 2
Was it her love, or just my joyous pain,
Who's howls woke me from a sleepless dream.
In my desert heart, her rose still remain,
Love lost, for love's not love my mind shall deem.
Beyond the scope of my now hopeless life,
Loves' now lust, and is a sin from the start.
Stone heart beats, and stabs itself like a knife,
As each life giving drop murders my heart.
Oh heart redeem and ignorance be gone,
Never to see her without sleeping eyes.
For if she were real my sorrow be done,
She is but hope leading to my demise.
My perfect mate, my eyes await to see,
She is my love and lives within my dream.
Sonnet #3
Could I ever understand life's design
Or with virgin eyes dream of a pure love
Could a kiss ignite all that is divine
Or make into truth what I've long dreamt of
Could I write of love with Shakespear's own script
Or with Da Vinci's brush paint all it's grace
Painters have painted and poets have writ
But few have immortalized her true face.
Could my eyes bask in an infinite gaze
Or a second lasts an eternity
Could a painters stroke or a poets phrase
Make my dream become a reality
Could a painter paint my dream to be true
Could a poet write of my love for you
Sonnet #4
I could gaze forever into her eyes
in search of heaven amongst their abyss
the birth of this devine elation lies
within the chasm of infinite bliss
Love lies on the brink of infinity
where utopia meets reality
About a man
I once knew a man
who died at thirty-one
he was shot by a man
who happened to have a gun
he used to do drugs
and that was his fault
now he lies forever
in his eternal vault.
Untitled
i am the dreamer of the dreams
within my sleeping eyes are endless possibilities
i have dreamt of standing on the horizon
catching a glimpse of the sunrise
regardless of it's beauty, I would have seen nothing
Compared to the grace I descry in her eyes
sometimes i go to this place in my mind
where the wind blows, and it feels like an angel
kissing your cheek
she feels like an angel, the perfect woman
only i see her in my sleep
Untitled
if all truths are true, and all lies are lies
and what is real was at one time just dreams
then a lie is just the truth in disguise
and all that is real is not what it seems
Untitled
If there were ever beauty in a name
It is this beauty for which I now hate
Love's not love by invoking heavens shame
It's the devil that greets us at heavens gate
Once i though love was as true as the stars
As stone in hard and the sun is bright
By deceiving heart and soul both now at wars
For love is to love as dark is to night.
Untitled
what would it be like to live forever
to see the world age and the people grow
to see life seek a new endeavor
or to learn what only a god can know
I see what only an artists should see
Untitled
I want to see what everyone sees
when i wake and gaze into the mirror
to look into the eyes of all that seems
it's not me, what is see is much clearer
YOU
I play with your hair, I touch your face.
I kiss your lips, I feel your grace.
Your whisper is quiet, your words are clear.
Your touch so soft, when you are here.
Why is it when I talk to you, I feel like nothings
wrong?
As far away as we are apart, you are still here, here
in my heart.
I will wait until I'm older, to see what life a comes.
To see if we will be together, and what we will have
done.
You make me feel so warm inside, not like all cold
when you die.
My stomach fills with butterflies, overtime your voice
says, "Hi".
Every time I have to go, it makes me wanna cry.
While I lay here I think of you, when will we see each
other and
What will we do?
It all makes me wanna tell you, that, "I Love You"!
HeatherAnn Johnson
Top Of The World
You don't know it, but
Sometimes, I go to a hill that overlooks
the landscape's mask of city lights
For a sip of momentary grace.
On this brink of everything I know, I can gain
An eyeful of the lost Atlantis in the human soul,
And a breath that fills my lungs with the air between
If right now, you
Were to capture this elation
In the framework of your mind,
Or find transcendence through these words,
Then at most you would know
Nothing
Of the beauty your existence throws to me.
For mine has become a love no experience,
No thought, no measure, no words
Could ever degrade into reality by virtue of degree.
Rider Strong
An Unpublished Manuscript for J.D. Salinger
It is possible to assonate my heroes with the scope of
my individualism.
However, by their own persistence to themselves, I
believe that they have chosen me to pursue a self.
What is literature, but the illumination of that
which I wouldwrite?
Salinger speaks through me, to me, whispers, "where
to little boy?"
My answer is the doggerel pen to page which lights
consistentlythe pathway home.
It is on that road,
That I alone,
Can trip my way back
To myself.
Rider Strong
By José
I learned about sobriety through the abuse
Of my friend in junior high
Name: Rusty
Drug of choice: Weed
Clouds of smoke distorted his vision
Unable to see that he was a genius
The first kid that showed me his poetry that inspired
me to write
The red veins in his eyes
Traced the timeline
Of the purple haze he lived in
'Til he was expelled
Caught on campus with a nickelbag of herb
Now I'm college bound
I stayed sober
Through the day he dropped out of high school
And I don't know where he is now
But I hope he knows
That he changed my life
and he could've changed the world
If only he could've stayed
Sober.
Jose Vadi (2005)
Sudden Light
I have been here before,
But when or how I cannot tell:
I know the grass beyond the door,
The sweet keen smell,
The sighing sound, the lights around the shore.
You have been mine before,--
How long ago I may not know:
But just when at that swallow's soar
Your neck turn'd so,
Some veil did fall,--I knew it all of yore.
Has this been thus before?
And shall not thus time's eddying flight
Still with our lives our love restore
In death's despite,
And day and night yield one delight once more?
Dante Gabriel Rossetti
Auguries of Innocence
To see a world in a grain of sand
And a heaven in a wild flower,
Hold infinity in the palm of your hand
And eternity in an hour.
A robin redbreast in a cage
Puts all heaven in a rage.
A dove-house filled with doves and pigeons
Shudders hell through all its regions.
A dog starved at his master's gate
Predicts the ruin of the state.
A horse misused upon the road
Calls to heaven for human blood.
Each outcry of the hunted hare
A fibre from the brain does tear.
A skylark wounded in the wing,
A cherubim does cease to sing.
The game-cock clipped and armed for fight
Does the rising sun affright.
Every wolf's and lion's howl
Raises from hell a human soul.
The wild deer wandering here and there
Keeps the human soul from care.
The lamb misused breeds public strife,
And yet forgives the butcher's knife.
The bat that flits at close of eve
Has left the brain that won't believe.
The owl that calls upon the night
Speaks the unbeliever's fright.
He who shall hurt the little wren
Shall never be beloved by men.
He who the ox to wrath has moved
Shall never be by woman loved.
The wanton boy that kills the fly
Shall feel the spider's enmity.
He who torments the chafer's sprite
Weaves a bower in endless night.
The caterpillar on the leaf
Repeats to thee thy mother's grief.
Kill not the moth nor butterfly,
For the Last Judgment draweth nigh.
He who shall train the horse to war
Shall never pass the polar bar.
The beggar's dog and widow's cat,
Feed them, and thou wilt grow fat.
The gnat that sings his summer's song
Poison gets from Slander's tongue.
The poison of the snake and newt
Is the sweat of Envy's foot.
The poison of the honey-bee
Is the artist's jealousy.
The prince's robes and beggar's rags
Are toadstools on the miser's bags.
A truth that's told with bad intent
Beats all the lies you can invent.
It is right it should be so:
Man was made for joy and woe;
And when this we rightly know
Through the world we safely go.
Joy and woe are woven fine,
A clothing for the soul divine.
Under every grief and pine
Runs a joy with silken twine.
The babe is more than swaddling bands,
Throughout all these human lands;
Tools were made and born were hands,
Every farmer understands.
Every tear from every eye
Becomes a babe in eternity;
This is caught by females bright
And returned to its own delight.
The bleat, the bark, bellow, and roar
Are waves that beat on heaven's shore.
The babe that weeps the rod beneath
Writes Revenge! in realms of death.
The beggar's rags fluttering in air
Does to rags the heavens tear.
The soldier armed with sword and gun
Palsied strikes the summer's sun.
The poor man's farthing is worth more
Than all the gold on Afric's shore.
One mite wrung from the labourer's hands
Shall buy and sell the miser's lands,
Or if protected from on high
Does that whole nation sell and buy.
He who mocks the infant's faith
Shall be mocked in age and death.
He who shall teach the child to doubt
The rotting grave shall ne'er get out.
He who respects the infant's faith
Triumphs over hell and death.
The child's toys and the old man's reasons
Are the fruits of the two seasons.
The questioner who sits so sly
Shall never know how to reply.
He who replies to words of doubt
Doth put the light of knowledge out.
The strongest poison ever known
Came from Caesar's laurel crown.
Nought can deform the human race
Like to the armour's iron brace.
When gold and gems adorn the plough
To peaceful arts shall Envy bow.
A riddle or the cricket's cry
Is to doubt a fit reply.
The emmet's inch and eagle's mile
Make lame philosophy to smile.
He who doubts from what he sees
Will ne'er believe, do what you please.
If the sun and moon should doubt,
They'd immediately go out.
To be in a passion you good may do,
But no good if a passion is in you.
The whore and gambler, by the state
Licensed, build that nation's fate.
The harlot's cry from street to street
Shall weave old England's winding sheet.
The winner's shout, the loser's curse,
Dance before dead England's hearse.
Every night and every morn
Some to misery are born.
Every morn and every night
Some are born to sweet delight.
Some are born to sweet delight,
Some are born to endless night.
We are led to believe a lie
When we see not through the eye
Which was born in a night to perish in a night,
When the soul slept in beams of light.
God appears, and God is light
To those poor souls who dwell in night,
But does a human form display
To those who dwell in realms of day.
William Blake
The following passage is from a sermon by John Hagee of Cornerstone
Church in San Antonio:
I want you to close your eyes and picture in your mind the soldier at
Valley Forge, as he holds his musket in his bloody hands. He stands
barefoot in the snow, starved from lack of food, wounded from months
of battle and emotionally scarred from the eternity away from his
family surrounded by nothing but death and carnage of war. He stands
though,
with fire in his eyes and victory on his breath.
He looks at us now in anger and disgust and tells us this...
I gave you a birthright of freedom born in the Constitution and now
your children graduate too illiterate to read it.
I fought in the snow barefoot to give you the freedom to vote and you
stay at home because it rains!
I left my family destitute to give you the freedom of speech and you
remain silent on critical issues, because it might be bad for
business.
I orphaned my children to give you a government to serve you and it
has stolen democracy from the people.
It's the soldier, not the reporter who gives you the freedom of the
press.
It's the soldier, not the poet who gives you the freedom of speech.
It's the soldier, not the campus organizer who allows you to
demonstrate.
It's the soldier, who salutes the flag, serves the flag, whose coffin
is draped with the flag that allows the protester to burn the flag!!!