Words formulated through
instrumental mouthpieces
sing inconstant songs
aiming to deform
a father’s soul -
unaware of private nights
locked in my comfort station
with a broken heart;
crying along a parent’s anthem,
“I fail my children,”
conceptualized from failure
of obsessed dreams and goals
hoping to make a better tomorrow.
My dear children
be aware that propaganda,
of things unknown,
will continue to echo unto the world
far beyond my resting place;
all in the mist of achieving a dream
that allows you to dream.
Fatherhood
StandardInnocence lies within children’s heart;
smiles shine through gifted moments;
unaware of journeys ahead
we, as fathers,
silently promise to protect;
clarity of their evolution must be kept.
A Father’s Promise
StandardWhen time comes to collect
I will be gone.
if I cannot return home
my soul will be recycled
to return to this place
we call earth,
and I will journey through
every new life experiences
to find you;
so that I may redistribute my love,
currently distributed,
to the four corners
of my heart.
If golden ticket is punched
I will reside within “heaven’s” walls;
clocking hours as your guardian angel;
protecting you from heat waves…
sending winds to blow away tears
conceived through THEIR broken promises.
I promise,
when time comes to collect
I will always be near
embracing and guiding you.
False words are not only evil in themselves, but they infect the soul with evil.
Standard
False words are not only evil in themselves, but they infect the soul with evil. - Socrates
What does that mean?
This quote is about the slippery slope of lies. First, false words, as the quote calls them, are evil and destructive in their own right. Saying them causes harm to others, and often to oneself.
The quote continues by saying that this damage continues.
The following is reblog of a post I've recently read. Reason for my reblogging of this piece is because it is a great reminder of how poisonous lies can be to our soul.
Street Salesman
StandardCloned to be your environment’s knock off
you stand strong
pretending to own corners
which highlights someone else’s name.
You sell rocks of illusions,
herbs of flow motion,
sugary powders
with hopes to gain riches
…ten years later,
no rank to your name;
only a barcode on your neck,
and a number on your chest.
Truth Remain
StandardThe thorn in his heart
she’d become…
unexplainable hatred…
she has betrayed his love
through deceptive envious tongues
that spoke uneducated echoes
of who he was,
as a man.
She’d become the gun
which murdered his soul…
pain equals to first broken heart,
but homegrown morphine
temporarily heals the open wound;
creating vivid fantasies of her in his arms.
Lips engaging in lover’s wars…
bodies sparking a flame…
upon release
morphine has cleared itself;
Unclogging the mind from his fantasies
only to face reality
of one simple truth…
I still love you.
Exotic Wonderland
StandardIn a pit possessed with diverse beauty
temptation aboard itself into his conscious…
becoming krypton;
manipulating him into thinking
with his brainless brain
…feeding off every realm of fantasy;
it speaks to him of erotic illusions
as she moves to the beat of symphonies
As it inspires direction in twirls.
Hypnotized he has become;
…well worth the cost of admission
into his personal exotic wonderland
where he finds temporary love.
Lemonade as to Life
StandardBitterness is the anthem of life
as its beholders strive forward
with inadequate experiences
which leaves an acrid taste
in the mouths of many men.
Undeterred,
men of courage find ways to stir life
to its sweetness;
he becomes hypnotized by the aroma of his evolution;
his thirst becomes satisfied,
his mind records steps taken
so that discovered men can find their own tranquility.
Wife –
StandardPrior to the compromise of one heart
each rebelled apart,
for love was forced
through traditional thought.
Carving intolerable love between two souls
as lies forged wastelands
within paradise’s terrain
wishing for never again.
Yet, falls and errors taught individualized hearts
true love never departs;
we’d become one…
hearts no longer young.
Message to a Butterfly
StandardWords unveiled with echoed hymns
I stand in front of you,
a hero unsung,
singing freedom songs,
as your soul becomes captive
by corrupted fixed accustomed patterns;
hoping to tame your heart
inside the shadows of illusions
your mind has manipulated,
for the ground you stand on
has become holier
than purified entities.
