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Old school haiku

Water, wind and fire

Nature is spectacular

Gold hues are divine.

Tuesday Haiku πŸ˜‰

‘Fire and Brimstone’

The stars of clarity

3 second freestyle writing that needs to work on all the me’s πŸ˜‚πŸ˜‚).

Starting with the sun.

If the sun began with me
If tomorrow starts without me
I’ll live or die

Who will know but me?

The dawn would surely see
Reverential potential

That if the stars began within Β me
I’d allow them all rights to copy my vapid words.

Absolute in my vindication
The globe entirely could desecrate me.I don’t follow humans decree of mother nature’s rules

Usually..
A habitual sign of creative apathy

Nevertheless tomorrow will start- again
Infallibly

If I told you

If I told you about the sun hiding behind those dense clouds

Would you listen to the birds

No judgement obscuring your heart echoed all kindess reverberating sans sound?

If I told you I’m hopeful your frown would disappear once those beatific rays raise a trumpet of graciousness from the maelstrom without the heartbeat of sound?

No hyperbole would I wish on your demeanour

No drama I wish to demand to demand

Upon you, the courageous.

My loves

My nature -condensates

A lady of the lake I’m bound by multiple men burned my ambitious stakes.

Causing this reality to vaporise

No slumber can awake.

I rise

I rise without the tidal waves of mayan traditions

Perhaps I forsook

I live on a continent my own maker allowed me to sew piece by piece

Grains of sand did my ancestors drown making moulds of bodies with clay.

I wish you to know my character.

I wish you to know my elements like demeter-

a mother never begets her daughter.

Never left to the scriptures of men

Untold

Untaunted

Untainted

Neither ink forsaken

Neither word twisted by those history writers who forsake them.

their integrity .

My nature is conceived

Nor pre ordained by these seasonal flakes

These words are my own.

My love !

Don’t desert all we have accumulated of late.

Sinners are the reason martyers exist ?

Render me unfaithful

Eternal sin stains noir shades on my skin

grief knocks at my door with a leash in his hand

reads me my rights, instructions of the feelings I will parade with a downcast glare remember this moment of shame – remember the touch of the unfamiliar intimacy

Emotions torn from the sacred part Please don’t stare

Turn your eyes away -oh shame sit down I have lost my dignity – the grace to care

sinners are the reason the saints are adorned with absolute conviction in Believers prayers

(a stream of consciousness writing prompt 10 line poem REGRETS Poems_For_Life

Where SOCS

Where were the people when I needed them

Were they where I left them?

Did the full moon transform them into werewolves

In a warehouse coveted to me?

Why wear the fur of the monstrosity of nature?

Or are humans wary that they need some creature to poach so they can reach the clouds ?

Were this a poem,

A parable of wear and tear

I’d gladly state my animosity wherever it would state:

I’m a human feral.

A token to the lost parade

Share the flag of those who ask where to care and when!

Ex communication of self hatred

Shun not what you fear to understand

Don’t stigmatize the most inherent part in you; what makes you human!

Embrace each emotion &feelings.

My belief is if we hide our so called darker sides makes that part of our character stronger and unbalanced

Lessen that burden, become whole:

Be the full rainbow spectrum despite what your favourite colour is…

There is more to us than nuances of shady blacks & untouched white.

We have a choice to give in to or resist emotions that merely reflect we we are in our journey in life.

No journey is stagnant

No feeling is permanent.

Why are some emotions or feelings seen as bad or good? Aren’t they all important and deserve to be felt.

Nothing is stagnant.

It’s our fundamental nature to feel.

To question.

What do we do with our emotions ?

Our feelings and thoughts , what do we do with them?

Extract what you need in moderation?

This is not a comforting answer is it?

What is your answer ?

Noah’ s plight

Is mortal love the true sin of the man opposed to the laudable man blinded by a paradise of perfection?

We walk with no blood on our hands

Though we walk with bare feet over those corpses of our ancestors.

The biblical story of Noah is the parable of the modern day humanitarian plight.

We will return to the second day of creation fighting with sticks and stones

As prophesized by another mere mortal

As prophesized by another mere mortal sapian in well versed archaic rhetoric…

Musings of today

Savages of mockery

Life is a set of numbers within a market of numbers

And we

the

diminutive 1s

who in our moments of graphic growth grapple for an extra addition to our sum total of flock.

We end up divided by a minion of millions

We are

A herd of expletive multiplication lost to the world

Implicated

in

Watching her frock slashed by our greed.

We are the true savages running our mouths with inequality

a mockery

Hypocrisy.

The demise of the humanitarians philosophy .

The colony

My faith was tested by the colony

The cross bore into my chest like multiple sessions of ECGS

I thought I had forgotten what it was to feel like an honest me!

The strength of survival of the fittest

Compelled hope to flee

Or save me

My choice

Brainwashed for a profit

A racquet

Insidious to true inequality

I’m here

I’m an insurgent

Indulgently

Indignant to all the two faced flags

Denying

denoting

Independent thought

For the books to be written

of/

Off

philosophy

Clouded the dogma that corrupts those who believe in their infallibility

Water – a drop

A drop.

A drop.

A drop

Do not judge me

For my sapling survival

a birth of a scape goat to inscribe the words of a free spirit

With no country

I claim as my own

I am who I choose as my identity

Borderless

No government

No political movement can discriminate against my spirit

For I denounce those who cannot see the truth

In front of them

even when they kneel

Before nature

The only divine death

With nothing to face.

Sincerely,

The unknown scripture of abandonment sans fear

Mo by

How many times can a man kill

With the swell of pride in his heart

The ocean stained with the sins

Of his foibles and ills?

A death wish

Mammoth moments sunken by the greed of this lot

Moby dick stood afloat

Whilst man’s morals were lost.

To the rise of egos

The wan of humanity.

The flag ships raised

A toast to a humans descent into insanity.

Without affirmative action these are mere words of profanity