You speak of gilded kingdoms; I''ll show you soot and slums. You may forecast blue skies; but I'll show you storms to come. You think your words are lances; they're really vocal dung. Before you craft a chorus, you'll hear ten songs I've sung!
You'll see your staying words, they'll flit and scare like birds, when facing logic's army, and met with reason swords. I'll converse a two-move checkmate while you still set the board. You may two-step feelings, but my truth you can't avoid.
'Cause its a meeker mind you seek, so hold your tongue like you can’t speak. You’ll be shipwrecked on a beach ‘cause God won’t hear the words you preach. My Tyson tongue has got you beat! You’re washed up, I’m at my peak. My words, the white-cap mountains, your answers lie beneath.
I’ll spit your vocal funeral, leave you silent in your grief. These boasts can break tree branches, you'll be shaking like a leaf. My quips will leave you quakin’ you’ll think the Earth has shook You’ll feel my flow is fire You'll be hurtin' from my hooks.
BALANCE All things must begin, or they can’t end, just as winds blow, making boughs bend. Some things are good, and some less so, in perfect balance, the sages know. We take in pleasure so we know pain, and sunny skies let us feel rain. Like yin has yang, and black has white, there must be dark, or there’s no light. We’re born naive, before we know; If Life writ books, we’d read it as so.
Only “Loss” shows us “Gain” Only “Leave” lets us “Remain” Only “Struggle” grants us “Succeed” Only “Denial” gives us “Deed”
Kiri was terrified looking at her own reflection in the mirror. Her constant fear of growing old was coming to life. Some of her hairs had grown grey, her skin had left the charm of youth. She began noticing all the changes. "Time overtakes everyone" she thought,
Artfully aired, anyway.
See, spoken thoughts are vocal shots Itemized inoculations;
This epoch is errant.
Unbroken, the surround - sound silence
Dolby - deafened us.
But it won't defeat us.
'Cause just beyond that blankness
Deeper than words' absence
Both beastly and beautiful.
Cause its crazy how
Kept keeping what’s killing them.
Cursed carriers of chaos,
crisis and loss.
Caterers of crazy plots
and cunning thoughts.
Deeming the demon
of forgetfulness forgot.
Finding he'll forever
face them down if he did not.
Those goons got greedy
while the getting was good.
Half time they're hailed as heroes
the rest, they're understood.
Only with iota'd inkling;
they'd possess it if they could;
for then they'd know it's value;
speak of it as they should.
Put to the test
they're without rest
and in defense,
their bated breaths
paint poor protests.
leaving laments laying layered
like lead-laced leaves.
their lead-lined leaps
can't scale that steep.
The glut of grievances'
now nearly 10 feet deep.
Witness weary missives,
all wet and witless.
Putting truth on trial,
with liars as witness
Finding failure, not fitness.
They are assailant and victim.
Somehow, still blind to these
same old self-made games.
Played self on self:
no one else
Writers' block isn't an obstacle if you write about the ideas you don't have, the pen that has yet to write, and the pages left unmarked. Let the questioning be the answer and the absence be the content.
Text: When Heroes are Have-nots ________________________________________________ It hurts in the heart when heroes are have-nots They gave us their all; now what have they got? Health's not here or at home, when honor's selfishly half-sought.
Selfless, it is not.
We've all seen what it's wrought: a figurative hell: Not literal, but near as critical. Moreover, it is despicable, treating lifesavers as criminals.
The school of life timelessly taught to now and then, spare searching thoughts. You think its work? Its nearly not.
Take advantage, 'fore chance is gone. Hitting limits? Just go beyond; Can't come up short if you go long; you have the right to prove doubt wrong. Make some music, sing spiritual songs we come from one, so every soul belongs the poor, the rich, old and the young.
You cannot lead by leaving them behind. There's a detriment to that design; a colour outside of lines; where mindless fools make fools lose minds. A sad state when we sacrifice saints. Estranged as strangers, none pray. Solemnly, some may say:
'They've simply gone astray.'
When wiser ways breed better days it'll be known without need for saying it: a truth that grows without even feeding it; in your bones and you'll even be bleeding it It won't be a boast to believe in it.
See, simple self reflections spot ego-built deceptions As intermittent intellectual intervention pares prideful, porous perception; rescinding regression, purely progressive. An immaculate conception, loose-leaved lines lay layered with lessons; words weaved tired, but tested; learned, not suggested. Wisdom writ better the best of them. Not rested til the rest of 'em appreciate what was given in
by heroes that have come and gone, that hard-done heros have been honored wrong. they were our foundation all along.
So, this is personal but being sick for almost two months nearly made me go bald and I had to get a hair cut. It left me sentimental. @writersnetwork thank you for the repost and the ec. Ben adores you ♥️ #benecc
Normally, Jack (of john_solomon) and I would be presenting a birthday collaboration for our very dear sister Asma on this day; but as he now resides in the heavens and looks on from above, I'll do my best to carry on the tradition myself. ❤ Wishing you a very happy birthday and so much love, dearest sister of mine @asmakhan!! Hope you're having a wonderful day! ❤