Dec 31, 2018

One Last Rhyme

1 comment

 

One last time

for this last rhyme

before it leads it out to the sea

before we set ourselves free

 

Free your heart, let it rain

Cleanse your eyes from those recent pain

Like how the sky, with unknown reason,

probably is crying for the same person

 

Uncover your scarred face from the masks that you use

Reveal your scarred wrists, even your bruise

Unfold your heart like an origami crane

Now, let it take flight, let all not be in vain

 

Do not be drowned on your river of thoughts

As for the battles, you have fought

some, you may have lost but still, you survived

remind yourself, for you never died

 

The wounds became scars, you just have to look

The heart still beats despite the beats it took

Heal yourself for no one could

Love yourself even if no one would

 

For you are an oasis with the last drops of water

and in the desert, that’s how much you matter

Count your blessings, even the ones that hurt

even the ones that put you at the worst

 

Let me finish the words that still flows

the time has come, so here it goes

Heal yourself for no one could

Love yourself even if no one would

 

So, this is my last rhyme

for you, just one last time

one, two, three...

Now, we set ourselves free.

- A. C. M. 2018

New Posts
  • We’ve entered a foggy time Where only the insane are truly free Politicians thrive With agendas where their brains should be. Where “dialogue” is shouted curses Wielded like dull-edged swords And our defense against this loud banality Our faces sunken into phones, terminally bored. We no longer slouch towards Bethlehem But think its existence is just fake news. The truth is no longer a solid thing But a clay molded with our views. I’ll not try to do what Didion did, I’ve neither the competence nor the need To walk around in different shoes In glasses smoked with weed. I’ll just erode in peace here dark While the world in every direction implodes to dust. The red of it not iron-based – Eternal quiet the only end to our distrust.
  • Etréstles asks oblation to the unfortunate of the World .. he asks to give his offering House that is not his house, to synchronize your departure to be in the company of Solitude, He does not have his sacred Cemetery before leaving for Nineveh ... He has disappointed himself of the Archpriest of Ayia Lavra for his strong telluric pains in his marble abdomen ... The holy oil that furrowed his forehead, furrowed his soul he has not recognized himself when his own umbilical nap has flourished a wafer of the Messiah who has traveled alongside him by the pavilions of Messolonghi in clarions rubies .. My father Staktos; come, I have not yet received the indulgence of abandoning what is not abandoned, I need to hear your voice from my sixth reincarnation playing on the roads of the oracles that illuminate the world, which is yours and the Messiah Choir on the Magdala heavens . Father I have not yet gone, and so many lives I have lived to see your distant face on grass barley resembling your breaths of late sunny spring celestial sermon sermons. But this time I want to cheer you beyond the imagination of eclectic anemia, with the aching pain descending through my impure heart. Nothing torments me more than to move away from the hells that do not know that I run through the prairies towards you without getting tired, imagining that I will fall into the neglect of your forgetfulness. I quickly lose my Laud from my right arm as a short-handed little fish, to commit the indiscretion of anticipating me to worship you with my dislocated left arm that carries the Harp from Lethe confiscated from Euterpe. Harmony that ignores Dinora in the false forests of Messolonghi in flames. You are my cobble who pierces the cries of my crucified hands, timbers of lymph incense next to the sweetness of your words that grew green in my dreams. Challenge with this interloquy of your incandescent soul, this is how The Last Temptation of Etrestles begins with its bleeding fingers, in the inflexible forgiveness of praising all those who want to dance with the mothers of the Shadows; that Staktos is his father, before reviving him and resuscitating him in his exodus to Nineveh, land hunched over by the Host, tortuous and artificial light shone from the recklessness of him who will make him sleep through the desert of life in farewell fantasies. Winds are felt singing whistles of hydrogen sulphide rocking from the edge of the cliff of the cloud, to fall on the shoulders of the timid death, False Blood, clumsy blood to wash my feet on Virgo and Jupiter in the sand. . Father, in purgatory, make the sounds of the new dawn without any detail or gesture of repentance. Thus Etrestles receives the Eucharistic host offering in his holy mouth and runs down the corridors of the great mysteries of the Nothing of good spirit of all Mantle. To be continue…
  • Thy will be done Dear God shine your light on me rain down my almighty I got no chair to sit nor a place to think safe me from despair and give me air heal my valuable soul and wipe away my tear and no longer live in my fear show my path to love help me fly like a dove help me be who am I to be I am an Earth Angel my almighty and you are my creator greater, better, like a mirror my light, my only saviour Dear God I need to wake up shake up, and never look back I am on a mission waking from hibernation creating, living and loving this is my destination Dear God Help me please grow and forgive others for I now know my real true feathers I am an Earth Angel and we are one Dear God Thy will be done
About Us
Contact us
FOLLOW US
  • Wix Twitter page
  • Instagram Social Icon
  • Wix Facebook page
  • YouTube Social  Icon
Subscribe to Realistic Poetry today! 
1 Offical Member gif gold1m.png

© 2019 Realistic Poetry International LLC  D & C Inspiration

0