oluwatosin olabode

oluwatosin olabode, 19 may 2013

Worship

My voice was created for Your praise.
To glorify God as only He can…
To give Him worship
Highest praise to the King…

Celestial worship
The first matter in trials
Not the last substance after errors
That- dedicated to the Father…

This is serious
He can’t, not be in you,
He can’t be in you;
And not have His greatest…

Spiritual worship
Only He can give…
And wants through me to do,
The non-living can too,
Actually, have already
But He created me
Not to replace me
Never His intension,
I shouldn’t make it so…

It’s the sweetest
I give you worship

It’s the simplest
I give You praise

Its yielding
I give You my prayers

Its my essence
I give You Your purest

It’s the truth
I totally bow to You, Lord

My mouth…
Shall continually reference You
You have done… all’s worth it
No longer second or later
But a heart of worship.

Worship… Worship…
I give You worship
Sweetest fragrance-
To the King.


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Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 19 may 2013

DIFFERENT SHADES

Do you envision a creeping fear
climbing the minaret
to reach the moon?

A debate has started
between believers and non-believers.
Why not he who lives

in eternal emptiness climbs down
and settles the dispute of hymns
in the scortching heat of words.

I just want you to read
the script and don't say, a sky
has wept

dropp by dropp on the nakedness
of human beings
who could not cover their shadows.



Satish Verma


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Jayden Casey

Jayden Casey, 18 may 2013

Sulfering

Hello, My friend
I can't remember if you came
or left; it's been days against the wind
Same ol' fire; same ol' flame

They're bringing down the gate
time tick-tick-ticks away; it's late

Am I suppose to be here?
Perhaps there.
How about there?

I forgot to tell you...
Wait...
It's at a loss for...
Two think it's that important...
Time is tick-tick-ticking...
Barely...
I can't...

The heat arrived; the fire's gone
Now, where did I leave the match?


number of comments: 0 | rating: 1 | detail

Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 18 may 2013

A LONE WARRIOR

You have put up the price on your shirt.
I have started seeing the return
of the death instinct. The curtain falls
on profile of joy, of giving away.

A solid swelling of clotted ego
of antimatter shows frugality
in spending of laughter. It was
a total consumption of beautiful lips.

That was that, of hollowness of globes
and golden peacocks. A seed of mildew
implants a kiss on the nakedness of greed.
How far the want will go in dark

for the scent of transgression?
Today I am going to meet a blind angel.



Satish Verma


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maryam muhammad

maryam muhammad, 17 may 2013

The wondering Mind


Between the lies I act surprised but really who am I,

to those who steer into my eyes are you my preacher

teacher or the ones sitting there waiting for me to

fall, whose role model am I; they look at me and

laugh because I'm working to acheive my lifes goals on my own, maybe this life

wasn't meant for me, whose wife was I destined

to be, it hurts not knowing if there will be someone

motivating me to succeed,

why isn't there anyone helping the weak, why is it

that I have to be the guide instead of someone

guiding me, could it be that life hates me, or is

he punishing me,

I don’t know, why don’t you all tell me, I’m just

wondering about those many questions we have in life.


number of comments: 0 | rating: 1 | detail

OCW

OCW, 17 may 2013

"King of the Road"

Oh Muse of the evening vers from the Unknown
stay awake another one more drive
to midnight shades i surrender no crown
left for me to hand over feel my thrive

the path of my mistakes is blurred into words
clouds over the tracks my childhood gifs
drink the way out to the cabin of wonders
from golden fields to starfull nights

when the need to write is riper
I'll find a way to put music & mind on paper
wait for meon the other side of days never seen
for Iam worthy of the destinations I've been

roads where they go and roads where they draw
follow the everlasting journey the King and Queen's awe.


OCW
*
05/14+15+17/2103


number of comments: 0 | rating: 3 | detail

Gert Strydom

Gert Strydom, 17 may 2013

You suddenly walked into my life

During my whole life, for many years,
I have been waiting on you
and then suddenly you walked into my life.
I do remember
that it was unexpected when I noticed you
and now suddenly
I do swear before the heaven and hell
that our love is much more than just a game.


number of comments: 0 | rating: 1 | detail

Gert Strydom

Gert Strydom, 17 may 2013

Shaking like a immature child

Outside a swarm of doves peck yellow maize,
my heart gallops
along the dusty roads
of the lower town
and shaking like a immature child I am searching
where cars come to a halt
for you who are rolling away like a large marble
and when we are apart I do feel unsettled.


number of comments: 0 | rating: 1 | detail

Satish Verma

Satish Verma, 17 may 2013

CHRONICITY

I was keeping a vigil in holy town
on a water cut. Lucy, Lucy did you have
a dirty mind?

This luciferina, will not tell the truth.
Venus and Venus flytrap had a
parallel birth.

And I was facing the dismembered tragedy
of freedom, unblooded in alien land
of unthinkable prayers.

Where the country will carry my pilgrimage
of fears and apprehensions? I thought,
and therefore I disappeared.


In convoy of great ideas, the escort was
a beautiful god, who went to sleep
when assault came.


Satish Verma


number of comments: 0 | rating: 0 | detail

Gert Strydom

Gert Strydom, 16 may 2013

Johannesburg in 2013

In every face that I behold,
I see a certain chill, a certain cold
and in the distance white mine heaps glimmer
light flash over tall buildings, glass windows shimmer
and it is not the Johannesburg of old
 
and everybody fits in,
the gum sniffing beggar children
with faces becoming obscure
and waggling limbs now miss-formed without a cure
 
the street whores, displaying their wares
smiling as without a care, with a cheap kind of glamour
calling out obscenities
 
along with workers from manufacturing industries
walking in rubber boots
in blue overalls 
 
and even the people in ties and suits
who are in cahoots
with the moneymen
 
fit perfectly in to a heartless city without a soul
where the value of money is the criterion
that turns men and women into carrion,
in a place that imprisons, like a huge enormous gaol.


number of comments: 0 | rating: 0 | detail


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