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There is no evil that comes without something good.

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There Is No Spotlight That Comes As A Given

The making of anything look easy,
Gets the attention from those who believe it is.
And if there is any hint of notoriety attached...
Only those interested in what is done,
Seek the limelight and not the work and sweat...
Involved in the achievement of that pat on the back.

Baubles, bangles and beads...
And bright shiny things that bling to impress,
Is all most people want to address.
Assuming with success there is no stress.
Or the getting of a much needed rest.
There is no spotlight that comes as a given.

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There Is a Freedom That Comes

What are you going to do with it?
Sit and sulk?
Or use it to get results?

There is a freedom that comes,
When one is labelled crazed!
And then one day the truth overpowers.
It stuns many.
And will amaze.

And once one has it,
All conflict is lifted from the consciousness.
Some choose to sit like you do!
While others confront the ones who have abused them...
Just to be amused they are armed with truth.
Knowing from within their minds,
They are free and don't care...
Who finds the time to call them foolish,
Or stupid or criticize what they say or do!

To hear these words,
Becomes a luxury deserved.

What are you going to do with it?
Sit and sulk?
Or use it to get results?

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There Is A Goodness That Comes

When I feel a good deed is done,
I feel a goodness that comes over me.
And when I know I can let go of my woes,
I feel a goodness that comes over me.

I feel a goodness that comes.
A goodness that comes.
There is a goodness that comes over me.

I feel a goodness that comes.
I feel a goodness that comes.
There is a goodness that comes over me.

When I awaken from a peaceful sleep,
There is a goodness that comes over me.

There is a goodness that comes.
There is a goodness that comes.
There is a goodness that comes over me.

When I feel a good deed is done,
I feel a goodness that comes over me.
And when I know I can let go of my woes,
I feel a goodness that comes over me.

I feel a goodness that comes.
I feel a goodness that comes.
There is a goodness that I feel over me.

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Evil That Dwells Within

I see faces that walk past me, And a shadow that stands beside me, I see you and the evil sees me.

When I am alone the evil always calls to me, The evil whispers to me but only inside my head, The evil is always around me and influencing my hatred of others.

The evil so frighting that others would flee from it but I find A new view of life with it, When good should envelope me the evil burns it away from me. I have no room for your pathetic lies and excuses this evil inside me is all I need.

It never judges only befriends me, I hate it but I wish to love it, With the evil that dwells within I can do anything and not fear anything or anyone, Speak my mind with decision I have not found my religion. God was never there but the evil that fills me.

I am angry and always seem to be, Only A few are selected to see the good in me, Others will have to deal with the evil that stands beside me, People judged to many times and now my mind is full of hatred, Burning my feelings and spitting on me.

I have never been bullied but people do it visually by glaring at me, Not my popular friends but the ones who don't know me, I hate you and wish to see you feel the evil within me, But I will not release it because it would make A scene.

When my time is right and Satan depicts and calls back the evil within me, Than I will be free. I am to young to live this way but feel I need to be to teach me a lesson, By doing it carefully. My friends Don't know the way I view things because I hide it like I have hid everything, I am close to them but still the evil seems to follow me.

Some days are worse when the evil influences everyone around me and they seem to turn it all on me, they can't contain my evil like I can contain it, The evil is powerful but not more powerful than me, But the evil can change my mood faster than a bullet can kill an enemy.

My mood changes and all I see is Red and Blasphemy, Go into a dark fit that is inside me, Brings up my anger and hatred that I feel towards others. Can't stop the anger from rising but it is all I can do to strive and fight the feelings inside me.

I gain control and the evil will never take hold, It follows me and is the shadow beside me.

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No Deserving 'Yummy' Or a Trace of Yum-Yum Laced

I will be very brief with this.
There is no 'yum'
That comes...
Without a taste for it!

And no deserving 'yummy'.
Or a trace of yum-yum laced.
If my tongue is not satisfied...
The expression in my eyes,
Will not lie.
And remember...
We did just say grace.
And I do appreciate,
Whatever this is you put on my plate!

However...
If my lips are not split,
To bare teeth not gritting.
I am either seeking to spit!
Or trying to find the words...
To encourage another visit.
But let me help you next time.
I'll do the cooking...
While you prepare the cheese and wine.

Basically I like you!
But not everything done you do!

What is it you are calling this?

'Love at Less The Task'

I see.
And if I should suggest 'Aftermath'...
Will you speak to me again?
It's not a total disaster.
We still have lots of wine!

Honey?
You did turn on the oven,
Right?

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So Much Of It That Comes Awarded

Not mystified by false idols.
Symbols
Bangles or beads.

Faith is a decision one makes.
And keeps that...
Throughout misery.
Or a grief left,
By another.
Who chooses that to leave.

Being pleased and grateful.
No judgements to pass or share!
Waking up each morning.
And expressing thankfulness.
Without concerns of what 'bling' to 'zing'
To wear for stares.

There is so much in life,
That awakens one aware.
So much of it is there without conflict.
So much of it that comes awarded...
One can afford that is not limited!

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Fresh Is A New Day That Comes To Many

Fresh is a new day that comes to many.
Those that see it that way...
Seem to have experienced fully,
Past fresh days with a letting go.

Holding onto limitations of thought,
Attaches to more anxiety and frustration.
And emotions become insensitive,
To adventure life without something to excuse.

Fresh is a new day that comes to many.
Those that see it that way...
Seem to have experienced fully,
Past fresh days with a letting go.

Some have chosen to exist,
Relying on being told what is around a corner.
Instead of leaving their zones of comfort,
To investigate with a sealing of their own confirmation.

Holding onto limitations of thought,
Attaches to more anxiety and frustration.
And emotions become insensitive,
To adventure life without something to excuse.

And finding something to excuse,
People would prefer to do.
Than to move from point A to B,
To voice an opinion given...
That confirms an absent of knowledge.

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For An Anger That Comes to Visit

Most of them have no discipline at all.
Nor have they had a patriotic thought.
Not within those of shallow conciousness.
Or expressed a patriotic deed...
Disconnected from materialistic needs.
Their mouths have been open to be fed.
And they have only known to feed their greed.

So it should come as no surprise,
They do not understand...
The bitterness that lies,
Under the surface of someone...
Who finds it difficult to close their eyes,
And can not forget losing a love one
To war, pain or suffering.
Or a day they awaken with those feelings met.
Or participate in needless conflicts.
Ones long gone...
But their minds can not forget.

And to endure these constant images...
Coming when they please,
To haunt.
While watching others sit back...
Undaunted as they flaunt their trivial existences.
And not have a care connected to this,
At all!
Yes...
I can say,
I've lived through it.
That's why I can be appalled,
Without a need to apologize to anyone...
For an anger that comes to visit!
And dedicated to my memories.

Yes...
I can say,
I've lived through it.
Sometimes in masquerade.
And doing that quite well.
Praying...
As I thank God everyday,
I have no traits of Godzilla!
Or any other destructive being,
Real or imagined...
To chase away those in fear screaming,
From something horrific that they've seen.

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The Poem That Comes After The Afternoon Nap

THE POEM THAT COMES AFTER THE AFTERNOON NAP

The poem that comes after the afternoon nap
Wakes the world
Is clear
Understands
Hears the answers to problems
It could not see before.

The poem that comes after the afternoon nap
Is a clear- minded Poem
A Poem of light
A Poem without fear
A happy Poem.

It has the answer
To the question
Yesterday asked
And tomorrow may make questionable again
A happy poem
Now.

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Love is a dream that comes unexpectedly

Love comes in wild nights-
In wildest night of my dreams
When two hearts become one
And all my sorrows are finally gone.

Love comes like shooting stars.
One can wish upon his fate
To ask someone for a date
Awaiting her best responses.

Loves comes unexpectedly. And yes!
No one knows whether it's good or evil.
Sometimes love is honest, generous, peaceful,
Selfish, hate, painful, and ruthless.

Love is a dream, a beautiful dream
That comes unexpectedly.
You deserve it and yearn for it
That no one will ever question your heart.

Love is a dream that comes unexpectedly...

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There Is a Realization That Has Come

All of their thug cronies,
Have silenced themselves of late.
Few seem to be demanding today,
Proof of a president's birth certificate.
And/or birthdate.

There is a realization that has come,
To land upon their sensibilities.
Everything President Obama is trying to correct...
Has been directly associated,
With their incompetence and deeds misguided.
And a prior leadership misdirected.

All of their thug cronies,
Have silenced themselves of late.
Few seem to be demanding today,
Proof of a president's birth certificate.
And/or birthdate.

And their latest fiasco sits in the Gulf of Mexico.
Without a clue how to fix it.
But a blame of this,
Will be wherever President Obama sits.
Since a shifting of blame has been a custom we live with.

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I Welcome The Rain That Comes In The Month Of August

equate the month of august with agony, it simply sounds like that
does not jibe well with sorrow or sadness, sounds too underestimating
and it goes well with the rain that comes surprisingly today
on this hot month, on this arid soil, on this acrid atmosphere

between us, this silence, inside us the rambling thoughts of
alienation, around us is the smell of spices of separation those that
when sliced like onions when peeled by our trembling fingers make us cry,

out there our eyes look at different directions and our hands are taking
the forms of mutual dislike like some roots spreading down the deep recesses
of this earth, preferring to be anonymous in this undescribable boredom

i like the rain, the sound of dripping, the slowness of life, dripping from my
hands like raindrops, like things gradually wasting themselves reaching my
toes, numb to my nails, wanting to be buried to the ground and simply

be forgotten

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This Reunion Shocks

I wish I could start from where we began,
To have you comprehend...
What makes me 'tick' within.
To have you instantly feel what is felt,
Without explanation of why a reaction is dealt!

I find myself caring less about intimacy!
Especially if it doesn't happen automatically!
If the chemistry is not there...
I'm not on a hunt to find it!
I am not good at interviews.
Or pretending something is fresh...
When immediately I can see it has been used!

I like meeting new people...
That I do!
But there is a maturity that comes with age,
And I can't pretend I am twenty-two!
OR fourty either...
So I am told!
Usually by someone much older...
Waiting for me to exchange the same with glee!

'More Vodka, Please! And on the rocks! '

There is a comfort in being 'who' one is!
But today so many want to be...
Thought of as much younger,
Desired!
With a timelessness like eternity!

I have vitality and spontanety!
I just don't like talking about it...
Like those who are older,
With nothing else to share...
But their histories!

'Oldies but goodies? '

I can see the oldies!
But the 'goodies' they've got...
I'm not trying to re-live!

'More Vodka, Please! And on the rocks!
Leave the bottle here! Bring me two more!
This reunion shocks! And these old people bore!
I'm seeking someone to share these moments NOW!
Not sit and discuss what was done at age Twenty-four! '

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Evil That Men Do

[queen latifah]
You asked, I came, so behold the queen
Lets add a little sense to the scene
Im living positive, not out here knocked up
But the lines are so dangerous, I ought to be locked up
This rhyme doesnt require prime time
Im just sharing thoughts of mine
Back again cause I knew you wanted it
]from the latifah with the queen in front of it
Dropping bombs, youre up in arms, youre puzzled
The lines will flow like fluid while youre guzzling
The sip I drop you on a bdp-produced track
]from krs to be exact
Its a flavor unit quest that today has me speaking
Cause its knowledge Im seeking
Enough about myself, I think its time that I tell you
About the evil that men do
Situations, reality, what a concept!
Nothing ever seems to stay in step
So today, here is a message to my sisters and brothers
Here are some things I want to cover
A woman strives for a better life, but who the hell cares?
Because shes living on welfare
I government cant come up with a decent housing plan
So shes in no mans land
Its a sucker who tells you youre equal
[krs-one]
You dont need him, johannasburgs crying for freedom!
[queen latifah]
We the people hold these truths to be self-evident
[krs-one]
But theres no response from the president
[queen latifah]
Someones living the good life, tax-free
Except for a girl, cant find a way to be crack free
And thats just part of the message
I thought I had to send you about the evil that men do
Tell me, dont you think its a shame?
When someone can put a quarter in a video game
But when a homeless person approaches you on the street
You cant treat him the same
Its time to teach the def, the dumb, the blind
That black-on-black crime only shackles and binds
You to a doom, a fate worse than death
But theres still time left
Stop putting your conscience on cease
And bring about some type of peace
Not only in your heart, but also in your mind
It will benefit all mandkind
Then there will be one thing that will never stop
And its the evil that men do

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The Fall of Man

A hand omnipotent, in endless space,
From chaos, formed a world and found a place,
Where, through the countless ages, yet unborn,
A star might shine from dusk to rosy morn.
Great mountains rose, majestic in their might,
And sun-kissed hills, aglow with mellow light,
And rippling streams went purling through the dales,
To silver lakes that glistened in the vales.
A subtle fragrance filled each shifting breeze,
The scent of flowers in bloom and budding trees.

So beautiful the earth, in Nature's eyes,
A soul was sent to dwell, in human guise,
A form of god-like beauty and of might.
To drink the sunshine and to dream at night,
In those old days, when first the world began,
Strange visions came to Nature's first child, Man.
Unclad and lone, he roved from spot to spot
And longed and yearned for something which was not.
Until, at last, a prayer went up to Heaven
And Nature's noblest gift to man was given:
A gentle, throbbing, trembling, beauteous maid,
Fair as the man, but with a softer shade,
Endowed with beauty and a thousand charms
That sought the sheltering clasp of loving arms.

As children play, in childhood's happy hours,
They romped and played among the sylvan bowers,
Or sported in the streams whose waters sweet
Ran cool beneath the trees at Noonday's heat.
And when night's sable banners were unfurled
And darkness wound her arms about the world,
On beds of roses, in some vine-clad nest,
Their drowsy senses found untroubled rest
And wandering zephyrs swetp across them there,
Unclad, but anashamed, in Eden fair.

No thought had come to them of wild desire
And yet, at times, a smouldering, hidden fire
Seemed slumbering deep within and fiercer burned.
When, in their sleep, they toward each other turned,
One ambient night of blissful summer-time,
A perfect night of Eden's balmy clime,
Eve stretched her languorous limbs in restless sleep
And Adam, at her side, sought slumber deep.
Some trifling thing, perhaps a wind-swayed fern,
A leaf--a bird--caused both of them to turn.
Eve's rounded arm was thrown above her head,
Her dimpled knee, just lifted from its bed,
When, by this chance, this trifle, light as air,
Their warm lips met, and, trembling, lingered there.
They slept no more from dusk to rosy dawn,
'Mongst roses red or on some grassy lawn,
But wakened often, from strange dreams of bliss,
To find their mouths all melting in a kiss.
Their hearts were filled with vague, unknown desire,
Nor knew they how to quench the wondrous fire.

A wild unrest upon them settled down
And Adam's brow would often wear a frown,
And then again, he'd stroke her glorious hair
And gaze into her eyes and call her fair,
Then clasp her fiercely, with encircling arm,
As though to shield her from impending harm,
Then wildly kiss her--eyes--mouth--neck and breast,
While she against him, tightly, closely press't.
Still waited, hungered, starved for something more.
Yet little knew what nature had in store.

Just how the fall occurred, so long ago,
The modern world should naturally know.
Not touching on his grievous fall from grace,
But just a hint at what we knoe took place,
And if his fall was premature, what then!
That sometimes happens to the best of men.

Eve's little, truant, tapering fingers slim,
Beloved of Adam and caressed by him,
By accident, one night, grew wondrous wise,
And found just where the trees of knowledge rise.

Amazed, surprised, confounded, if you please,
But, womanlike, inclined a bit to tease,
She tried experiments of many a kind,
To learn by which she most delight could find.
And Adam, dizzy with her new-found charms,
Gave way to every pressure of her arms
And gave her childish innocence full sway,
Nor cared to check her or to say her: "Nay."
Then suddenly, with savage, passionate clasp,
She drew him to her with an eager grasp
And sank exhausted, yet with cheeks aflame,
Athrill with feelings which she could not name
And Adam, swept away, on seas of bliss,
Poured all his soul in one, long, clinging kiss.
'T was pain, 't was pleasure, 't was a joy intense.
It seemed as though along each quivering sense,
Swift rivulets of fire had found their way
And burned their hearts. The knew not night nor day,
Nor life, nor death, nor aught that mortals know.
They only knew they loved each other so.

Nor dreamed they, even yet, of further joy,
The one swift dream that comes without alloy,
And blends two loving natures into one,
Too sweet to last--that ends ere 'tis begun.
It came to them like lightning from the sky.
Each thought the very hour of death was nigh,
Yet longed to live. Delirious pain
Went sweeping through their inmost souls again
And black oblivion brooded for an hour,
O'er passion's birth in Eden's rosy bower.

And when, at last, Eve wakened from her swoon,
The night had fled. The glare of Eden's noon
Sent showers of golden light through wavering trees,
And subtle fragrance lingered on the breeze.
Throughout the realm of Eden's joyous bower,
All things that lived were happy in that hour,
For, led by sweet desire, example given,
They found, on earth, the one foretaste of Heaven.

And since you must know all there is to know,
When Eve awakened, in a blushing glow,
Her thirst for knowledge, seeking to know all,
Discovered first the secret of the fall.
She sought the source of her new-found delight.
Turned pale, grew faint and trembled at the sight.

The Tree of Knowledge stood--ah! yes, it stood.
Past tense, you see--and while the past was good,
The present need was great, without a doubt
And pretty Eve began to fret and pout.
She wept and sighed and said "I see it all,
For here was death and there, alas! the fall."

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The First World That Comes To My Mind

The first world
That comes to my mind
Is heaven
The abode
Of God
Is heaven

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The Sweetness That Comes After Grief

The sweetness that comes after grief
You will find
After you had gone through grief

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There are the words that couldn’t be twice said

There are the words that couldn’t be twice said,
He, who said once, spent out all his senses.
Only two things have never their end –
The heavens’ blue and the Creator’s mercy.

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There Are The Poems That Are Not The Real Poems

There are the poems that are not the real poems,
And the poems that are-
And the poems that are seem to come out of their own saying
With a rhythm and a meaning which makes a music so deep,
Even the most lonely soul feels them as a singing inside.

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There Is A Cycle That Is Consistent With The Doing

It doesn't take a scientist,
Or a mathmetician...
To identify the feeling,
Of being unappreciated.

Those who set patterns of self indulgence,
Are as obvious as a tree...
That begins to shed its leaves.
There is a cycle that is consistent with the doing.

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