Written by: Chris Wallach    
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The Lamb

144,000 are the leaders of heaven
there are 144,000 countries 
and the lamb which are leaders who follower HER around
was like the prophet who died as the child but lived
it is divided because those are all the languages and nations of people
people who have died before now and are righteous aren't there but in a separate heaven
all righteous people now go to this new heaven
All of the aborted babies are Females
And she is the President HA
those who saw the songs of the one who she marries 
those who tended the fruit
are in this heaven if they are righteous
it doesn't work for the ones who have died before this because they wouldn't understand the marriage
there you go i answered your question

Loves Cruel Game

Written by: Johnny White    
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Loves Cruel Game

My heart has been broken. My heart has been torn wide open. I can't stop cryin. On the inside i'm diein. With you I felt so right. Now I cry through the night. I watched as you slipped through my fingers. My love for you still lingers. I hear your voice over the phone. The I realize i'm all alone. I wish I could still be the one. But I must remember that we are done. I can't stop thinking of you. I wish I could but it's true. Ive lost the one thing that mattered. And now my heart and soul are shattered. I don't know if ill ever be the same. I guess this is loves cruel game. I miss how it use to be. When you belonged to me. But I guess life goes on. Then why does letting you go feel so wrong. I won't be the one waiting for your kiss. That's one of the things i'm going to miss. I won't be the one to hold you tight. I won't be the one to keep you safe at night. I won't be the one to wake up next to you. This is horrible but sadly it's true. I thought we would have married. And our baby you would have carried. I thought you would have been my wife. And forever been in my life. But I guess some other guy will. Why does all this have to be real. But I guess I have talked to long. I wish you still loved a guy named John

Written by: Michaelson Williams    
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Peace of Nature

The life you live is just an Illusion
Stay away from all the Confusion
Put your bare feet in the Grass, Dirt or Sand
Let Mother Nature take your Hand

Forget about the Past
Don’t worry about the Future
Just let life come to its own Conclusion
It’s time to realize we are all but Same
Mother, Father, Sister, Brother, a Collective
On the same journey, so what’s in a name

Born to the Body
The one we Defend
Break from the Status Quo
Understand the Universe within

What matter how you were Born, or Raised
This part of life is only a Phase
What matter what you were Taught or Believe
Release the Chains that bind you, and life but only a Breeze

Written by: Barrett Yandell    
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Incident

Not natural, this repose.
The others act at playing
in the sea. Dubbed-in laughter.
Who gave the ending away?

Cue sunset. Slow, moribund.

I think of darkness to come,
of blood and sharp cutting things.
And that large thrashing horror
just now breaking the surface.

Distant thoughts

Written by: Samantha Labuschagne    
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Distant thoughts

Sunlight shining through patient leafs
pleasing those whom urge for ease
Calm breeze feel my skin 
recuperate me from what I've been
Soft the sand beneath my soles
halt me from antecedent faults
Where dawn winds whirled 
my heart froze beneath dispute

But peaceful leafs and nature's song 
calm me now, reigning my soul
Revive me Lord for Thou art;
the Father of nature and Father to me
Food for my soul Thou art to be
The pleasure of being naturally.

Shadows of Life

Written by: Sandy Bird    
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Shadows of Life

I am but a shadow passing through life
Substance wanes wandering over barren land
The inner essence twists in strife

Flickering light casts its familiar glow
As I cease to exist and meld within the sand
Slipping deeper into the darkness below

Written by: Angelus Somnium    
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The One For Eternity And Beyond

I don't know whether I'm in love with her,
Or am I just trying to free myself from being alone, 
I don't want to see her cry, 
I can't even imagine a world without her smile

Is she the One, 
Or is this just another obstacle, 
I don't mind ,
Because nothing's keeping me from her

I see bliss in her eyes, 
And I see her in my future, 
I think this it, 
The truest form of love

May the Master of All Things Himself guide me, 
I beg of You to make me see,
Whether what I'm feeling is true or not,
Or whether I'm just afraid to be alone

Solitude has never bothered me ,
But now I see her and think of it, 
I will lose a long time friend, 
Yes , I will throw away anything for her

For heaven's sake I'd lose everything for this girl, 
She's the bliss I feel every morning,
I see her as a reason for my existence, 
The purest flower in all the fields

I love her, 
And I don't fear love anymore, 
I'm willing to be hers,
If she's willing to be mine

For an eternity I wish to keep her, 
For her I will give her all the stars in the sky,
I love her and I will care for her, 
For all of eternity and beyond.

The Sandy Storm

Written by: Babayinka Olubodun    
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The Sandy Storm

    I
Even in this 
crypt,
me soul wait 
no longer! Its 
crest burnt-
The Eagle 
velt; born of 
virtue,
Less 
corruptible, 
grieve in its 
lounge thirst!
The Sandy 
Storm.

A day without 
rain calls the 
storm
Within the 
crypt, the 
souless wails!
Whose 
charming 
flutes shall 
calm these?
Shall David's 
songs enrich 
souls or mar?
The sandy 
storm.

Crypts; a 
taboo for soul-
full,
Lest, I began 
wailing - for,
Its greatness, 
lies thereof
Shadows 
crested our 
flags, 
whirling 
winds;
A shiver to 
our darling 
hearts.
Minted coins; 
blood of 
aztec!
Crypts' song; 
livens the 
sandy storm

From the 
soulless; born 
of the velt.
Wielded by 
the sonorous 
Adored by the 
mightiest,
On whose fax, 
shall its 
shadow run?
The sandy 
storm.

Raging as its 
neon star; 
shining in its 
darkening 
path!
Our lonely 
night, a walk 
for the 
craving crow.
Shall friends 
be foe! Shall 
mothers be 
lovers!
Never! 


II

The sandy 
storm; the 
spirits 
journey,
The sandy 
storn; an over-
comed 
threshold!
Obeisance; a 
joy which 
gladdens my 
hold.
I'll hold the 
fort, high 
steamed, with 
bellows of 
men.
Let no velt be 
built - for the 
velt; a 
shadow of 
history!
Shadow of 
history, in 
hearts, it lives.

On the path to 
Nile,
The journey 
of breath, 
Shall I rest my 
bossom
The velt once 
born, the velt 
once taken, 
the velt once -
The Sandy 
Storm

The Streets

Written by: Nokturnal Poet Raymond Letsitsa    
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The Streets

The 
Streets 
1.            
These 
are 
the 
streets, 
they 
possess 
many 
souls 
like 
a 
legion 
does 
a 
diableric 
In 
these 
streets, 
you 
either 
get 
molested 
by 
the 
police, 
or 
if 
a 
sister, 
get 
touched 
by 
paramedics 
Where 
trash 
cans 
are 
feeding 
schemes 
for 
the 
local 
hobo 
man  
Where 
drunk 
brothers 
get 
pick 
pocketted 
at 
gay 
night 
clubs 
by 
the 
manager's 
woman 
You 
might 
get 
struck 
by 
voo 
doo, 
so 
cover 
yourself 
with 
the 
pope's 
christianity 
You 
can 
visit 
the 
graveyard 
hospitals 
to 
sniff 
the 
odour 
of 
insanity 
Where 
you 
can 
step 
over 
someone's 
urine 
at 
night, 
and 
wake 
up 
crippled 
in 
the 
morning 
Curse 
someone's 
granny 
if 
you 
wish 
to 
perish 
suddenly 
with 
a 
comfortable 
mourning 
Because 
of 
poverty, 
funeral 
service 
brothers 
steal 
body 
parts
You 
can 
easily 
get 
bewitched 
for 
leaving 
a 
lady 
with 
a 
broken 
heart
Gays 
can 
get 
married 
over 
here, 
like 
a 
normal 
groom 
and 
groom 
kissing 
the 
broom
Thin 
and 
fat 
ladies 
are 
claimed 
to 
be 
the 
ones 
leaving 
all 
the 
putrid 
odour 
in 
the 
room
Ladies 
get 
ambushed 
in 
broad 
daylight-
Where 
guns 
bark 
in 
the 
streets 
every 
time 
there's 
a 
fight-
Why 
we 
got 
to 
let 
fake 
policemen 
rape 
our 
sisters 
I 
don't 
know-
But 
to 
the 
helping 
hand 
of 
slave 
driving 
governance 
we 
got 
to 
go-
Street 
kids 
bathe 
on 
watery 
stone 
to 
appear 
appeasing 
to 
the 
masses-
The 
streets 
are 
very 
judgmental,blinding 
our 
visions 
like 
zombie 
classes-
Those 
with 
HIV/
AIDS 
are 
a 
stigma 
only 
to 
the 
rapist 
minded 
pervert-
You 
might 
get 
beaten 
any 
time 
for 
not 
being 
a 
drunk 
convert-
Many 
here 
lived 
and 
also 
died-
And 
now 
with 
their 
decaying 
bodies,the 
earth 
is 
satisfied.

THE WIND-CHIME TREE

Written by: carole fairish    
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THE WIND-CHIME TREE

The wind-chime tree 
 is singing in heavenly voice,
 there are Angels beneath the golden rusty
 red leaves,
 There singing out in Harmony 
 a slow and sad ;'hymn in the soft
 breeze 
 I lolled into the peacefulness 
 I kick back in my relaxing chair
 close my eyes , and dream.
 Aluminium Fairy's are dancing and laughing 
 on Green sleeves and Y shaped branches
 They STOP, Spin clockwise in the wind 
 holding on to the tip of failing dying leaf 


 I hear them say 

 ''WHO is she ?

The Worlds Flamboyant Creations

Written by: Montego Banner    
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The Worlds Flamboyant Creations

Realizing reality is relative I 
remembered,
Déjà vu yet still I quickly 
disengage,
My remaining remnants of 
righteousness rendered.
Auto pilot seemingly protective 
as they re-enslave,

Us..and they as the media-my 
meditation is static,
Addictive is this world- thus my 
addictions predicament 
Society never thought white 
lies would be so problematic..
Now currently the problems 
erode our freedoms into 
imprisonment. 

Prisoners how do you do!?
Imprisoned by greedy people 
that lack character at very 
least, 
You all should feel so stupid 
and that feeling is past due,
But there I go acting like one of 
the weak.

You don't see the picture, the 
one painted or otherwise,
Under skies of pollution 
trapped in our atmosphere..
Our society could never truly 
feel the pull of the moon or our 
humble tides,
Human life too flamboyant to 
coexist under our stratosphere.

The Worlds Flamboyant 
Creations.

too late

Written by: lonnie lucas    
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too late

gentle flower sways
loved by the suns warm embrace,
away from earth climbs.
barren the landscape behind,
forever changed creation.

Torrid Love Story

Written by: Shirley Gribble    
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Torrid Love Story

I'm writing a torrid love story,
Full of scandle and intrigue and sex,
About film stars and beautiful people,
And who goes to bed with who next.

Their clothes are by famous designers,
They wear diamonds and mink and real pearls.
Their hair is just perfectly coiffured - 
And that's just the chaps, not the girls!

The hero's in love with his uncle,
And his wife's had an implant or two,
Grandfather has married the housemaid,
He's eighty and she's twenty-two.

When it's published I'll make lot's of money,
But just for a while, till I do,
I'm a little bit short on housekeeping - 
Can you lend me a fiver or two?

Written by: Latosha Mitchell    
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Under the Bridge

Passerby echo the frustrations of the world
Under the bridge
Tall tales of courage
Outpours from angry souls
Yet the toughest of them all still hide
Under the bridge
Grass roots & neo-souls speak words
In the form of hyperboles
Leaving actions hidden like water
Under the bridge

Written by: Latosha Mitchell    
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Under the Bridge

Passerby echo the frustrations of the world
Under the bridge
Tall tales of courage
Outpours from angry souls
Yet the toughest of them all still hide
Under the bridge
Grass roots & neo-souls speak words
In the form of hyperboles
Leaving actions hidden like water
Under the bridge

Under the Lights

Written by: Jesse Pickens     
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Under the Lights

In the bible it states that no sin is more fraudulent than another,
so in this mighty country that we have labelled the Home of the Free,
why do we judge each other, constantly dropping the judicious mallet that belongs to God,
point fingers and ridicule the next man,
determined to cause fright,
but inside we are petrified it might,
be our turn to face this judgmental fight,
what will they say when your sins are broadcast... Under the Lights

Where It Leads I

Written by: Lehel Lorant Kiss    
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Where It Leads I

Where it Leads

Chaotic arrangement of words
beaten with the mind
fall into place as tetris blocks
where it leads none may know
ready to organize a show
unveil the curtains
open the window, let the breeze
carry your blind mind to see
in darkness, light light dispersing
into heavy sounds, binds your attention
seek redemption, sheathe your skin
come on in and split the atom
fathom while the phantom haunts
a dream dreamt long ago

Does anyone wants to see death
creeping as a shadow ready to strike
bodies full of life dropping like flies
the Machine of War is hungry
go ahead, feed it, feel its mechanical wheels turning
longing for more, death is greedy in the hands
of men who desire to be consumed by the fire
of greed and consumption, who are we to make
the foolish assumption: "All will change in time"
A bomb ready to implode and traumatize
as the wise remain silent, the violent rush
waiting to crush the fools allowing themselves
to be used as tools

Steer me away from things to come
what's done is done, let me feel the sun
let me run from the sum of my mistakes
raise the stakes as the world around me breaks
Well then, middle finger to you too kind sir
don't worry, I shan't stir your harmony
by all means, go ahead, lay your head down
and sleep, oh, just don't wake up and all is fine
I shall toast with wine and have a laugh
as others whom 'loved' you whine at my foolhardiness

Take a metaphorical gun and blow away your mind
watch brain matter splatter on the walls, try to realize
that the way you analyze leads to the demise
of a sun that's about to rise and wake you up
to a reality you've always longed for deep within
That little music box playing the same tune in your mind
that itch under your skin that won't go away
when the promise of a new day may or may not lead you astray
It really isn't hard, in fact enlightenment awaits
those whom are ready to pass beyond the gates of their own mind
those whom don't mind the walls crumbling, ready to find
a different kind of bind with the human intellect

In My Garden

Written by: Pam Woolford    
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In My Garden

In my garden my roses grow
Little blooms bend as the winds blow
Birds are flying there in the sky
Babies learning the way to fly
Are scared of falling down below

Yellow buds with a perfume sweet
Many rows of blooms looking neat
So proud am I of my roses
In my garden

Many blooms almost touch the sky
Reaching up maybe ten feet high
People stop walking by each day
My roses look good right through May
Without water they will be dry
In my garden

A whiter shade of blue

Written by: Elly Wouterse    
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A whiter shade of blue

the magnificent autumn-sun bursts at its seams
the icy october-wind blows her soft-cold breeze
one of the most impressive and mesmerizing teams
stumbling over each other making me warm and freeze

fragrances of fresh grass mowed for the last time this year
the muted-green foliage whispers with leaves drying out
the hidden dark-red blackberries wither behind protective thorns of fear 
the last flight of geese flying over another scout

rare but visible some glorious leaves of gold
the cloudless sky colors the very rare whiter shade of blue
the bike trail I'am on  partly covered with wet leaf mold
the passing summer is now really saying adieu

while the wintery wind and summer-sun bicker for attention
I'm overwhelmed by this whiter shade of blue's  fourth dimension

©Elly Wouterse

Dutch composer&harp player Anne Vanschothorst wrote a piece for harp and recorded her version of "A whiter shade of blue" 

The link to hear HER "A whiter shade of blue" under "About this poem". 

Procol harum's "Whiter shade of pale"(I am that old- or young?) is on of the songs on my list of most played songs on my mp3-player.. when hearing this song on a sunny autumnal day I was inspired to add my color to the palet..........  I saw a new'kind of blue  and wrote  this poem..

The regrets of a young man The foolish choices he made

Written by: William J. Jr. Atfield    
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The regrets of a young man The foolish choices he made

The regrets of a young man.
The foolish choices he made.
 

A beautiful little Soul, was torn, twisted and turned.
Her, free spirit would eventually crash and be burned.
Her, fragile heart would reach out, try to touch, it yearned
- for One, to show love, to show she truly did care –
- for the Other, who was ( in spirit ) but never there .
 
This beautiful little Soul, lived within the confines of rage,
pain and hate, while the foolish, free spirit turned another page
and wandered across this continent on the wings of his Bird.
Every day this little Soul, looked back from whence he came,
as her face - captured – stared at him, her voice he always heard. 

The miles, the years slipped by, nothing would be the same!!!
The heartache, the pain, the rage fueled the name of a game
that left this little Soul, lost in a space, between two forces
she could not reconcile, could not find solace in the courses 
that lay before her confused and troubled, young mind. 

Two Poles, divergent, young and foolish, proved unkind,
to this little Soul, Her, essence they left for Her, alone to find.
Years of uncertainties, doubts did enfold her fragile soul.
Far to many years came between - before she came to know
what it was that lay buried deep, beneath what did show. 

I am truly, so very sorry for not being there to help Her, grow,
to help Her, find her angelic voice and sing Her, life’s song.
I live with the blue of regret, the black for all I have done wrong,
yet, I have found solace in Her, angelic voice, singing Her, song, 
knowing that there has come a connection and a resurrection. 

My Lady, fair, when sings and dances, brings tears to my eyes.
With thoughts of what I have missed, my heart and soul cries.
I look into the face of this Woman, who’s soul fills the skies
with beauty that came from within, not me, and that is my sin,
a man who is but an empty, hollow shell beneath his skin.
 
B. J. “A” 2

Written by: Victoria Anderson-Throop    
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LOVE AND THE PRUDENT MIND

LOVE AND THE PRUDENT MIND

How can passion nab a prudent mind
Heartless and unrelenting sorrow
Passion which
Haunts across seas 
Crazes uncharted through widow making mountains

Shadows its prey
day by day from scent of soap to toothpaste caps
Sleepless nights in strangers beds—The vows once took cannot be shed

How can love annex a prudent mind
     Diligently plodding through piles of work 
Jump between the lines and ink
like a rapist scare
to catch the victim unaware

Heartless and relentless sorrow
Years refine the passion fire
      Body aches for vanished scorching touches
Heartless and relentless sorrow
Like a bird she fled the skies
But longs in secret for the midnight flight return

Devastated

Written by: Cona Adams    
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Devastated

The thunder peals so loud I hold my ears,
and shut my eyes against the fulgent flash,
as lightning slashes through the blackened sky.
Oh, please, have mercy, give me one more day.

I've laid my stillborn son within her arms,
cocooned in quilts she'd sewn before the fire.
The agony consumes my tortured soul
as rain for which I'd prayed now fills the grave.

Yet hard and fast the raindrops come in sheets
to wash away the earth I'd dug in scoops.
Exhausted now, I stare, as mud slides down
into the hole in ugly rain-swept globs

where lies my precious love, my hope, my life
and beats upon the withered stalks of grain. 

CROW

Written by: Giorgio A. V.    
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Crow

The ghostly town unfolds in air
harmonic drapes - his soul's bestow;
aright reveals the bird's despair
the cold winds blow upon the crow.

The mind ascribes to open sails
inside the mists, upon the waves,
on broken strings the mode avails,
the emptiness of skyward graves.

The ghostly town records crow's wrong
and then invents dimensions yon,
beyond birds' step the feasts belong
stars' open Halls invite and conn.

Denounced immures - upon the slopes
distrait his hope - ascends effused
disporting fate Atropos gropes,
emending those who reigns refused.

The ghostly town torn scopes imbues
inside the air will play and glow,
with colored lights and hearths' red hues,
those dreams that cling in falling snow.

And how beyond the lone bird flies
stars are beclouded from the slopes
symbolic largess rains from skies,
and laughs the crow at his own scopes.

Say “death” and the whole room freezes–

even the couches stop moving,

 even the lamps.

 Like a squirrel suddenly aware it is being looked at.

Say the word continuously,

 and things begin to go forward.

 Your life takes on

 the jerky texture of an old film strip.

Continue saying it, hold it moment after moment inside the mouth,

 it becomes another syllable.

 A shopping mall swirls around the corpse of a beetle.

Death is voracious, it swallows all the living.

 Life is voracious, it swallows all the dead.

 neither is ever satisfied, neither is ever filled,

 each swallows and swallows the world.

The grip of life is as strong as the grip of death.

(but the vanished, the vanished beloved, o where?)

The Day The Tears Came

"The Day The Tears Came"

"The Day The Tears Came" I thought I was going to drown In my own puddle of tears that came down I thought the reflections that remained there Consisted of windows of deep despair But I survived no matter how deep the tears fell Even when the windows showed glimpses of my inner hell I made it out of the spilled pool through waves that came with the pain I’m so much stronger now from the day the tears came I learned along the way, that it’s alright to allow yourself to cry It’s not healthy at all to keep everything hidden so deep inside For trying to be a hero, but behind the smile some people sensed to see That my soul needed this beautiful and healing release Thus, a hero is a person that cries tears that reflect both his courage and pain In the place where his legacy will always live to remain Releasing a memory of a heart pouring emotions wilting by the stormy rain Only later to show all along, his soul was being quenched since the day the tears came…. May you all allow yourselves to let the tears fall where they were meant to fall in order to keep quenching the existence of your souls