Latest items:

poetry

Satish Verma, 8 march 2014

FALLING

Something impossible would happen.
Truth was too much to operate,
life was easy with fakes.

Neither mortal pain, nor needles
would mend the wounds. The chasm
was deepening. And I stitch the orange lights
with the kisses of green tears.

For the punishment of disjointed commitments,
I dream of the killings
standing on the corpse of faith. The
obscene slogans raise the dust,

of hate crimes. The color of the race
was spreading, on bellies, on stones.
The night will bring spiralling comets
in the sky, burning and emptying
the pure.

Satish Verma

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Gert Strydom, 7 march 2014

It was yet another bright sunny summer day

It was yet another bright sunny summer day
and the sky was pure blue as if only just created by God,
up and down sparrows and weavers flew and nothing was odd,
butterflies fluttered and bees buzzed and it was if all was at play.

Your eyes were golden and bright like the sun
and in them I read messages of love,
there was a kind of beauty that nothing can remove
and around us the entire world was having fun.

Your smile was happy and the dearest thing,
something beautiful that caught the eye
and all around us different birds did fly
twittering and cooing and praising some did sing.

Since then I have learnt that all of life is ephemeral,
moments may deceive or be true,
even if there is something special between me and you
nothing in reality is eternal

and yet that day remains with me constantly.

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Satish Verma, 7 march 2014

LOSING AGAIN

If erupts again –
the eternal hate of caucuses.
A pipe bomb detonates in a gulley.

Death glides as a superman
like a mutiny in the bowl.

Night stumbles against the kissing moon
on the shore of waning hope.

I will not mourn for my color
I am still nursing a grief.

Walking alone in the shadow of walls
to unhear the screams of dawn.

Satish Verma

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Greg, 6 march 2014

Suffer Child

To strive on like the soldier
Weighing risks and counting boulders

Two fires are started in my soul
One that abhors me
And one that adores that
Which comes to attack me
And shatter my scheme
Rhythms beat repetitious
Gleaning a small glance
To be torn away by the hounds of hell
Barking in my ear
*ring ring ring*
I’m coming
The door swings open
And eyes wide shut
Embrace the golden calf that sits
On a throne made out of God-shit
Relentless adoration
For two passing songs
One a reflection of the other
And the other the same
Grasping at each other
For something substantial

But only by knowing
Can this be possible
Free from the grasp
That gives rise to this barren earth
Full of luscious green life
And teeming with insidious competition
The bloom of the flower
And the hum of the bee
Are but trinket coverings
Of the endless suffering that they are
And the sooner this is seen
The sooner the green skys turn grey
The quicker life comes to an end
And Green can be seen
Not just in the grass
But through the grass
From the other side
A few shout to us
To just give up
And let out a welting cry
To melt the candle wax
Of your daily teardrops
That arrive and arrive
To descend and pretend
To be hollow, lonely, and barren

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Joe Breunig, 6 march 2014

Poem: Sola Scriptura

Hidden layers of meaning,
completely permeate The Word;
they’re found by spiritual eyes
and a desire for absolute Truth-
to overcome the enemy’s lies.

Take time to study the Bible
and its many, divine precepts.
Embrace them with your heart;
learn lessons from others’ pain;
keep life from falling apart.

Be led by the true Love,
behind the scarlet thread;
for God identifies His own,
by the principles found…
in the Scriptures alone.

Author Notes:

Sola Scriptura - Latin term meaning “the Scriptures Alone”.

Loosely based on:
Josh 2:18-19; John 14:6

Learn more about me and my poetry at:
http://amzn.to/1ffo9YZ

By Joseph J. Breunig 3rd, © 2014, All rights reserved.

number of comments: 0 | rating: 1 | detail

Gert Strydom, 6 march 2014

I waited at the motored gate

I waited at the motored gate
when winter was bleak and grey
and the early morning fog seemed desolate
as I had not seen the sun on that day

The morning mist blotted out the sky
and in the distance a plover’s call did resound
but then much more lonely was I
when much further away howled a hound.

The features of the houses seemed to me
like spectres ever present but unknown
as if all hope was covered by the foggy canopy
with no sharp, real features being shown

and wet and wicked smelled the earth
if like this all days would now run by,
as if a kind of illness was present at each birth,
as if the destruction of man was nigh

but in the old oak tree some birds were fluttering
and crystal clear and gay
a dove did its song of love sing
and unlimited a sudden ray

did the fog part
as if the bird had a kind of hope and love
that did speak to the depths of the heart,
as if brightness was coming that nothing could remove.

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Satish Verma, 6 march 2014

CANNOT HOLD

Got struck on the spiky gate
a half-eaten deer
shattering the panther.

Daggers were drawn.
Terrier was in the glass house.
Canine discretion to draw the blood
between friends.

A crisp murder of a terrorist.
spotted face of the relentless moon
sending flames to jasmines.

The little skulls popping up
amongst rumors.
I scream in a celestial leap.

I could walk in ruins
of incarnations
preaching for death.

Satish Verma

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Greg Essential, 6 march 2014

flash in the pan

przekrwionym okiem
boga
spoglądam
na siebie
bez litości
jak na wydrążony kokon
owada którym byłem
zanim zrozumiałem
że zardzewiała struga brudu
w pękniętym klozecie
piękniejsza jest niż
urwana ręka madonny

bloodshot eye
of god
I gaze at myself
no mercy
as at hollow cocoon
of insect which was
before I realized that
rusty dirty track
in cracked toilet pan
is more beautiful than
hand of madonna
torn off

[english translation is lame and under construction]

number of comments: 1 | rating: 1 | detail

Greg Essential, 5 march 2014

Na śliskim bruku, w Londynie /On slippery pavement, in London

coraz mniej mnie jest
śpię na kawałku podłogi
wszystkie moje rzeczy
pozostawione w kącie
zmieszczą się w plecaku

coraz mniej mnie
chudszego
jadam byle co
przeterminowane
lub kradzione żarcie

doskonale obywam się
bez pieniędzy
i bez kobiet

odpadają ze mnie
kolejne zbędne
warstwy pragnień

już tylko kilka niezbędnych
spraw toczy się siłą inercji
higiena, sen, jedzenie

nie oglądam TV
i nie czytam gazet
o rewolucjach dowiaduję się

z Facebooka
gdzie wchodzę
żeby pomilczeć
z setką znajomych

im mniej jestem
tym coraz więcej śpię

może po to
żeby się w końcu
obudzić

****

there is less of me
sleeping on a piece of floor
all my stuff
left in corner
gonna fit into rucksack

I am less and less
thinner
eat anything
outdated
or stolen grub

perfectly managing
without money
and without women

falling off me
another unnecessary layers
of desires

there is few only
indispensable matters
which pending
by inertion
hygiene, sleep, food

no watching TV
and no reading papers
finding out about revolution

from Facebook
where I enter
to keeping quiet
with hundreds of friends

less I am
more and more sleep

maybe that’s way
I wake up
finally

[warning: english translaiton is lame and under construction :-) ]

number of comments: 6 | rating: 5 | detail

Gert Strydom, 5 march 2014

Sometimes you turn my world upside down

Sometimes you turn my world upside down
when you bring change to the routine of life
and sometimes we do together laugh and believe
that good things jump into our way.
Sometimes you do smile and I do wonder
where you get such happiness
and sometimes I am blinded
when I find signs of love in your eyes.
Sometimes I want to hide you in my arms
when on your birthday ill-mannered people make you cry
and like a scared child
you long for better, more beautiful and wonderful days.

number of comments: 0 | rating: 0 | detail

10 - 30 - 100

Latest items:

poetry

FALLING

It was yet another bright sunny summer day

LOSING AGAIN

Suffer Child

Poem: Sola Scriptura

I waited at the motored gate

CANNOT HOLD

flash in the pan

Na śliskim bruku, w Londynie /On slippery pavement, in London

Sometimes you turn my world upside down

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