Poems

Pneuma’s Prowess


His chi or personal god was good (27)

Death took no notice (77)

No mourning for the dead (78)

With feasting and music (79)

There was immediate excitement (84)

The artist has molded (87)

Shrill and powerful, floated on the chaos (89)

Order was immediately restored (92)

Silent for a long time (92)

Broke the outer silence (100)

Spirit of his god (100)

Began to speak (93)

 

Cover Photo


Words and phrases from the novel ‘Things Fall Apart’ by Chinua Achebe

pneuma's prowess pic

Book Photo

This is the new form of poetry that I was speaking about on my last post. It’s called found poetry. Basically when you take words or phrases from a book and create a poem with them. It’s a unique and interesting way of expressing emotions through writing. I enjoy doing these a lot though, so there are more to come for sure. 

 

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Illusive Flow


Wanna submerge myself in the deafening music.

To feel the illusion of it for my own amusement. 

Its flow so sweet to my ears.

Terminating all my childish fears.

 

One illusion breaking another deception.

No more illusive fears, but rather friendly perceptions.

Gone are the hurtful tears, and welcome cordial protection.

 

Plunging into the lyrical sweetness.

A cure for the loneliness.

Chained to my mind is darkness.

But can be broken off by the stream of lyrics and beats.

Thump, thump. Release.

Screams of a broken self comes surging out. 

Dipping into a lake of harmony.

 

Shutting tired eyes and drifting to the sound.

Wishing this will hydrate me for eternity.

But knowing I’ll have to return to the battleground.

In order to feel the sweet flow of divinity.

Which is music.

The language of insanity.

That explains humanity.

Just so perfectly. 

 

Immerse Cover Photo

 


Music is sweet and wonderful. Will always have it in my life. Like and share if you enjoyed this poem!

 

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Grey Voices


Quiet and soft.

Scared and lost

Impaired from abuse.

Help comes your way, but you refuse.

 

Shaken and crippled.

Shattered mind and little.

Distaste, but also numb.

Not knowing the outcome.

 

Your murmurs are never heard.

This form of treatment is absurd.

Run away, run far.

Before your body receives another scar.

 

Murmuration


Hope you enjoyed reading this new poem. Share to your family, friends, pets, stray dogs, geese, Allah, anyone you desire. 

 

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Shattered Ripples


Triple shot sparking a ripple.

Brought down to the ground; crippled.

No time to pray.

Life above faith.

Turning into a darker shade of grey.

More time to cause scathe.

 

In a unique form of marking.

The skies are crying and haunting. 

Droplets one after one.

Controlling the mood.

Not welcoming the sun.

Locked up and isolated. All in solitude.

Not even motivated.

 

Patterns after patterns.

His conscience is close to being shattered.

Ripple after ripple.

Triple shot after a triple.

This time to the head.

Dead, not crippled. 

 

Pattern Cover Photo


Midnight writing. Bored, a little, so just wrote something for the fun of it.

 

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Doubt of a Pawn


Uncertainty in everything that passes.

His care has burned down to ashes.

Not sure what to do.

Continuing with life, doubt rises up in him as he loses his view.

 

Perfect living. Smile across the face.

All a lie, just to cover up the disgrace.

No good for anything.

He wishes to be king.

But is only a pawn to represent.

Trying to come up with faulty attempts.

 

A mad world.

One that is burning down.

Something coming to an end.

He won’t come near the crown.

Only thing to do is to descend.

 

Into the darkness and forgotten.

There’s no need to blossom.

In a world full of rotten.

 

Doubt Cover Photo


Another one on the table. Hope you like it. Don’t forget to follow as well.

 

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Cracked Streets


Pushing down the street.

Calming down the fast paced heartbeats.

The gravel bags slipping through shaky hands.

To travel down the block to meet demands.

 

Grams and eight balls ready.

More heads asking for special cookies.

Bandanna around the face with the dark blue hoodie.

Purity is high. Ready to be bagged and supplied.

 

Sleep deprivation at its finest.

Insomnia is your highness.

Energy through the roof.

Continue and soon you’ll go poof.

 

No need to care though.

Because money is coming in at the low.

While you’re stuffing your face with pure snow.

 

Facade built up to cover up the dirty face.

Breaking apart slowly.

Soon he’ll lose his grace.

Sinful and unholy. But this is his ace.

Something he can’t just erase.

 

The tornado and hail will kill him.

He doesn’t see it.

He can’t end it.

But he’s inviting death to come over.

He can feel it getting colder.

And sooner or later his life will come to a closure.

 

Abstract Cover Photo


Hope you enjoyed this new piece of poetry. Leave a like and remember to follow!

 

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Useless Existence


Existence of yourself and myself.

Is all for the reason of living life.

But what if it’s for something else?

A more intricate reason.

 

Persistence of our survival.

Human instinct to be alive.

To thrive and be the revival.

Of our former divine.

 

Resistance is met with the persistence.

To be alive for what reason?

If it only means suffering by the screams of your demons.

 

To make it to the almighty paradise.

What are the steps to get in?

Is there some form of sacrifice?

Or is it just for me to fantasize? 

 

Faith ties us down.

In both good and bad ways.

Should I kneel down and pray?

Or pave my own path and breakaway?

 

All these questions that have no straight answer.

Am I wasting my time by hanging on a religious anchor?

I don’t know, but life seems meaningless.

Hopeless; pointless; useless. 

All of this less with no happiness.

Emptiness; sadness; loneliness.

All I want is for us to have a little bit of togetherness.

Peacefulness; loveliness; kindness.

Lovely things, but everything is destroyed by the constant darkness. 

 

Something we can’t just abolish.

It’s there forever.

Lingering in your mind

Something that has been with humans.

Since the dawn of our kind.

 

Strife; anger; destruction.

Natural to us, in all.

Construction? Yes, also natural, but hard to understand.

It’s easier for us to become madmen.

 

To demolish and shatter.

The same way we do to our souls.

As we continue contemplating on things we can’t even control. 

 

Ruminate || Cover Photo


There was no actual aim for this poem. Just me laying out words and it came to my head line after line. I hope you enjoy reading it though.

 

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