Satish Verma, 25 may 2014
Death will not measure
the height,
from which we fall.
Not being,
the psyche of primeval fear
finds its conscience –
subverts the softness
of moon-eyed life
with wealth of green blood
in brown bread.
And the white candle
burns at night
to send aurora borealis
in blue irises.
Satish Verma
Satish Verma, 24 may 2014
A silent wrath sits in a pool
of blood, will start a battle
over the footprints of sponges
who soaked the history.
The flow of endurance, lava on
the tongue triggers discontent
for a riot of spawned hunger.
One transparent self under the rocks
moans, falls to explosion, sways in
dim smoke. For the authenticity of future
we are killing the serpent
who drinks milk
from your hands
and protects your treasure.
The tranquility is little bloated
like grape seed extract.
Satish Verma
Stephen J. Vattimo, 23 may 2014
Knock...Knock..Knock,
Can you come out and Play?
Steal the key from the warden.
Unlock the shackle that keep you trapped inside.
It's a beautiful day
Come out and play?
Don't hanging silently on the wall with the other wall flowers.
It's time to break free and express your self.
Don't be afraid to sing a different tune.
We are not all created to be the same at this elevation.
So you don't have to play it safe .
You can buck against the hypnotic beat that is echoing through the radio and the television stations .
Can you come out and play?
Don't be afraid to go against the flow of yesterday.
To day is a gift from God to make a new vibration.
It's time to go out and play.
Life is like playing a musical instrument in a hall.
The walls are people.
the hall is time.
Be wise in the song you play,
For your words and actions will echoing off the people and be carried down through the halls of time.
Knock...Knock..Knock,
Can you come out and Play?
Will you make A difference today?
Written by Stephen J. Vattimo
Feb 18 2013
Stephen J. Vattimo, 23 may 2014
Tortured soul
Struggling to survive another day of wearing the chains of voluntary slavery,to earn my keep.
Struggling to labor with my fellow slaves,
some try to cut me like glass,
while other try to break my bone like rocks.
Tortured soul
Long to break free from these chains that hold me to the ground.
Longing to spread wrings of creativity,to earn my keep.
Souring on the winds of Art,poetry,comedy.
Rising from the dust of a tortured soul to the rebirth of a fulfilled soul.
Using the God given gifts of creativity to bring color into A gloomy world.
That fellow slave to sin,may open their hearts of glass or stone to God,that through His Holy spirit their hearts will become like clay.
So God can mold them into the beautiful image of his Son.
Written by Stephen J .Vattimo
Sept 19 2013
Gert Strydom, 23 may 2014
Sometimes I want to know the reasons why from You
when it feels as if You are forgetting me in Your ultimate plan
and there is no deliverance or light that I do see,
when it feels as if everything is resting on a big perchance
and maybe people did feel like this from the time of Adam
while time was running away from them
and when I do fall I ask You for new hope,
that You do continue to walk ahead on the road of life
and my Lord, when it goes difficult on some days
show me where You are still standing next to me.
Gert Strydom, 23 may 2014
(after Dante Gabriel Rossetti)
How will I explore the depths of love,
through its difficulties to the shore move
on the pathways that to me are not trod
if our sincere feelings is not from God?
Lady, I cannot strip your soul from mine
or live without you, this bond is divine.
Love sincerely binds together evermore,
cause two people to together explore
the days and wonders and the pains of life
both in happiness and in times of strive.
Lady, I cannot strip your soul from mine
or live without you, this bond is divine.
Between us there is ample evidence,
that our feelings are grounded and intense,
daily with each other feelings are dear
past hope, past joy and pass all kinds of fear.
Lady, I cannot strip your soul from mine
or live without you, this bond is divine.
[Reference: “Heart’s hope” by Dante Gabriel Rossetti.]
Satish Verma, 23 may 2014
After seeding the clouds
they were going to buy wet lips.
Seven minutes to make a bomb:
a micro-chip, ammonium nitrate and a circuit,
one headless body squirts a long jet of blood.
Run, run for the cover, with nuggets of
wailing times. Black walls intercept the flames.
A nimbus suspends the door.
Cryptic commands fail. A body sprawls
on payment for wheels to move. You
hand me a child to find his bilolgical mother.
A long manifesto makes the cadaver shrink.
Clocks spin in frenzy. Mirrored people
look like ghosts. A city burns.
Satish Verma
Joe Breunig, 22 may 2014
There seems to be ongoing confusion,
regarding the ministry of good works.
After all, Christianity is a lifestyle
and responsibility must not be shirked.
Don’t be deceived by the religious leaders
saying ‘it doesn’t matter in what you believe’.
For the righteousness of Christ is available,
as soon as His promise, you willingly receive.
We are clearly taught within The Word,
that ‘real faith without works is dead’.
Although there is value with good deeds,
acts of Love should not swell one’s head.
We can be redeemed from Hell’s fiery pit
and easily avoid spiritual devastation.
For we are not saved by our human actions,
but by acceptance… of His gift of Salvation.
Author Notes:
Loosely based on:
Jam 2:14-26; John 8:24; Rom 10:10; Acts 16:31
Learn more about me and my poetry at:
http://amzn.to/1ffo9YZ
By Joseph J. Breunig 3rd, © 2014, All rights reserved.
Satish Verma, 22 may 2014
And there was history
to map the terror. A neoplasm
was arising suddenly in the aching skull.
Chorus of wailing: the burning will not go.
Clouds of dense smoke were mindless.
All the centuries were smouldering
in the hearts of waiting children
while the bombs were swaying from the tree tops.
The fat men and women were melting down
to define the master and slave in the
dark chambers of commerce. The ravaged
body of truth anoints itself with blood.
Satish Verma
Gert Strydom, 22 may 2014
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