Post your poems, or others' poems

by ashitaka 46 Replies latest social entertainment

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  Undine

  I am really enjoying everyone's poetry...

  I wrote this one when I was coming out of the organization
  and just beginning to reclaim my life.

  ~Sometimes I wear my life
  And sometimes I watch it
  Slats of wood, weather worn smooth
  Telling me of familiar episodes
  
  It's my eyes that've changed
  That for days and years have seen the slats but
  Have observed the melancholy quietness that has
  Been pounded down deep and deep and even deeper
  Into petrified silence
  That never knew the word AWAKENING could be a kindred...
  But it is...a word...that belongs to this bursting heart of mine~

  Undine
• 

  WTLies

  Here is my poem, written only months after I stopped going to the Hall. It's about religion as a whole but mostly it's my feelings about the Watchtower Society. Here goes:

  The Void by William Jones ©

  Endless is the path and winding the road
  that leads through the void and many are the
  ones finding it

  It's neither dark nor light but opaque and it's
  ambivalence is exemplified through it's
  malice intent

  It's temporal displacement is evident, it transcends time and age and exists generation after generation

  It is the role of the damned to walk the
  course set before their feet

  The void is a world were the undead reside
  where nothing is real except the void itself

  It traps it's unwitting victims who are
  unaware and weak minded

  It divides us and tells us to have faith in HIM
  when what they really want is for us to have faith in them

  the void requires total submission which is to believe without question...question them not, as not to anger the beholder of your faith

  I believe, not in the void, but only that it exists
  It must be exposed if the TRUTH is to survive.

  William,
  Former member of a Non-Prophet
  Organization
  [email protected]
• 

  IMBlueFire

  ((((((((((((((William)))))))))))))))) nice to see you!!!!!!!

  nice poetry
• 

  25ashitaka25

  A Poet without Words

  My happiness has left me without words,
  Without painful passion,
  I’m phraseless.

  Our pain gives mouth to agony that can only be felt,
  Love cures it, bends it into a blood-warm calm,
  A stormless sea,
  Pulsing the walls of our chest.

  No more nights hovering by the window in the rain,
  Praying for inspiration,
  the only cause to exist,
  she has supplanted all reason and reality.

  She has moved the unmovable stones,
  Broken my bones, drank the marrow
  Returning her blood into my bones.

  She lies on my bed
  Draining death from my bones
  Returning peace beyond words and inspiration.
• 

  Schizo

  All of you guys are real good.

  I'm not good, but here goes.

  I looked in the mirror,
  I been there before,
  I didn't see one me,
  I saw more than four.

  Schiz
• 

  termite 35

  An Elder in a crap congregation,
  suggested positions and inclinisations,
  his attitude was shit
  it pissed me a bit
  so I squeeled and left the organisation!
• 

  25ashitaka25

  termite---LOL

  Here's another from the ashi vaults.
  ................................................
  Nighttime at Wenzel’s Pier

  At Wenzel’s pier men smoke and laugh;
  The day is done, sun is sleeping just behind the grey rocks.
  The speak in sea-tounge,
  Would set old women’s ears afire,
  And maidens to blush.

  At Wenzel’s pier men laugh and jeer,
  The white ducal robes of state flutter and grimace upon the steps
  Of the old courthouse,
  Like chains on the white-haired men-
  The dock-men wear light-blue tunics that shiver in the wind.

  At Wenzel’s pier men walk away from their day,
  Unlike the proud men, virtuous maidens,
  Their eves are treading their own lanes
  Answering to no man,
  They drink and sing on the promenade.
• 

  25ashitaka25

  Two Notes

  I am your spiritual sacrifice.
  I move within you like a Spirit,
  together we shout to the sun.
• 

  gravedancer

  There was a young man Tote
  Who believed all that the "faithful and discreet slave" wrote
  Until he came to jw.com
  and discovered that the slave had chopped off his schlong
  So he joined the apostates as a Goat.
• 

  gravedancer

  poetry is for pussies