Satish Verma, 10 october 2016
Do not take a vow of silence.
Death will find its home.
The circus has taken over
the needles.Who will stitch
the wounds of earth. A man
walks into sunset carrying
a bowl of tears. The sit-in
was going to resist a poem
of life. Would you unrobe
your identity in public one day?
Always I am punctuated at night
by a yellow moon standing
in my window. A nude goddess
is going to mourn the death of a thought.
Satish Verma, 9 october 2016
A peacock becomes non-violent
keeping the warheads
in his tail. In bird hour
who wants to blink?
The chicken runs amok.
Lying motionless was
painful for being slaughtered.
Subversion was more acceptable-
than falling in love. The bare
chest shows a gored scar.
They have started a dance
to entice a herd of pachyderms.
Bleeding? No. They have
cobbled an army of bedbugs
to start a violent protest
against the moon.
Satish Verma, 8 october 2016
Consensual drop.
White bougainvilleas
were falling
on green eyes,
as I climb the sun.
Not a loss.
The seeds will carry
an image of a fallen
hero on the hairy chest
of a spilled sperm-
into the rippled lake
of a crowd chanting the enemy’s
death. The heritage
of corrupt state will bury
the memorial of a honeycomb.
Do you hear a meltdown
of an ululating monk?
A piercing trill comes from
a scalp scooping the wardrobe
of a dethroned king.
Stephen J. Vattimo, 8 october 2016
Windows of Heaven
They inhabit places all throughout the world
Some stately,some are meager in statue
They are constructed according to the Carpenter's hand.
Windows of Heaven
They are God's children,
They are passages for God's light to Pass through
To bring the warm light of salvation ,into dark cold spiritual dead rooms
Windows of heaven get weather beaten and wither away with the sands of time
Every window has curtains of sin hanging in them
Curtains open or close
let in,or block out Heaven's light of salvation
According which way it yields it's frame
To the forces of dark or to the light
Will you curtains be open by actions of Love,mercy,and grace
Will your curtain be shut by actions of hate,unforgiveness,revenge
Windows of Heaven
They are God's children,
They are passages for God's light to Pass through
To bring the warm light of salvation ,into dark cold spiritual dead rooms
Written By Stephen J.Vattimo
Jan 1, 2016
Stephen J. Vattimo, 8 october 2016
Cars cued up
Engines raving
Suspense and energy, thick in the air
We are gathered at the race track of life
Some sit in the stands
Some sit behind the wheel
Some drivers are sponsored by Jehovah Jireh
Some drivers are sponsored by Prince Of The Power Of The Air
The race track is a very dangerous place
There is no room for cloudy minds and slow reflexes
Jehovah Jireh sponsored Drives have to stay sharp through the word and the power of the Holy Spirit
For Prince Of The Power Of The Air Drivers will use every dirty trick to run their opponent’s car into the wall
Drivers Need to rely on their Pit Crew Team to warn them of unseen dangers,replace spiritual warn out tires,with renewed tires
Remove or correct any spiritually malfunction that is hindering the performance of the car
No matter how far a pit stop put a driver behind in laps
The driver has to reenter the track by faith and determination that God will give them the ability to make up the laps and get in position to be able compete to be the first car to cross the finish line
Cars cued up
Engines raving
Suspense and energy, thick in the air
We are gathered at the race track of life
Some sit in the stands
Some sit behind the wheel
Are you in the stands or behind the wheel?
Written by Stephen J. Vattimo
May 18,2016
Stephen J. Vattimo, 8 october 2016
Life is like being a passenger on a luxury ocean liner
That is sails across a Sea of Turmoil.
Passengers feel safe by putting their faith in the sturdy construction of the ship’s steel hull.
Their senses are enveloped by the beautiful gold, silver, brass, wood that accents the interior of the ship.
There is a Specter who‘s heart is dark as black satin and as cold as an iceberg.
Who is rarely seen by the human eye, for he stealthily move under the cloak of night,
And dwells in the shadows by day.
His nature is deception and violence
His power are death and decay
He Rome’s and back and forth on the sea of Turmoil, stalking luxury ocean liners.
Sometimes He will play cat and mouse games by annoying the passenger slowly picking their ship apart with rust and rot.
Other times he will crush a ship with a title wave,
Or blow a ship apart by an on board fire.
The Specter evilly snicker when the survivor have to abandon ship and try to tread water.
The passenger try to cling on to their strange Theologies and Philosophies to keep themselves afloat.
The Specter stirs the sea of Turmoil with his crooked finger to create great tempest to try and drowned his victims to transport them to the lake of Fire that lay beneath the Sea of Turmoil.
The passenger’s desperate out cries for help reach the ears of The King of Light.
He send His Son by His swiftest ship
To rescue anyone who will receive their help.
The Son will transport His passengers to the shores of His father’s kingdom
Where they will be made heirs with the Son.
They will dwell in the eternal golden city of The King of Light.
The King of light will forever remove the Specter of Darkness and His domain the Sea of Turmoil.
Written by Stephen J. Vattimo
July 12, 2016
Satish Verma, 7 october 2016
Violence unalloyed.
I want you to hear
the noise, light and blast.
Shrouded inside,
a chandelier breaks
in splinters of hymns-
all enveloping. In the positional
vertigo, you hit the nail.
I call it quits, undating
a curve, an arch.
Incubation.
It was incomplete. They will parade
the victim naked, because she was
raped. Why did she let loose
the testosterones?
Walking ferns and
wish bone.
The inmate wants nothing.
She has come to stay in dark
till the sun unrises.
Satish Verma, 6 october 2016
You were trampeling on a wasp,
when sprouts
were generating Escherichia.
Dirt. Romping around. How many
corpses were there? Why can’t you
tell the exact figure?
Under the carpet the shoes will
help. The need to jump from
the rostrum? Was it not a banal show?
The giggling girls threw a
cordon around the sheep. The
trembling flesh. Somebody walked
away with the chopped head.
Weeping. No the severed head
was laughing.
It was an open book.
How to make the beds on street,
and then lie naked.
Satish Verma, 4 october 2016
It was a fast
against truth, in support
of unbidden body
which took the history lesson.
A star is born
out of midnight accident.
Darkness deems dark
in siege of self-restraint.
An embattled self
seeks a counting. The money
speaks in absence, to clear
the debt of tears.
No longer
the eyes will look at
the marriage of trans-blue veins
in legs of seedless dreams.
Joe Breunig, 3 october 2016
The World’s perception of Christianity
is generally, an unimpressed disappointment;
we’re viewed as a collection of mongrel mutts,
housed at the local dog pound, foolishly
chasing rainbows for our lost contentment.
Although we’re not domesticated watchdogs,
collared and chained to the Master’s table
while begging for spiritual scraps of Faith,
they believe that we’re hoping for crumbs
to overcome a meager existence, simply unable
to grow and mature with the King’s wisdom.
If we’re not progressing with our victories
and experiences of success, the World’s view
and attitude will not change; therefore, we
need to develop our Faith and testimonies.
Author notes
Inspired by:
Matt 15:27; Mark 7:28; Rev 12:11
Learn more about me and my poetry at:
http://amzn.to/1ffo9YZ
By Joseph J. Breunig 3rd, © 2016, All rights reserved.
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