Heart In Mending, Mind In Finding

Life, poems and poems about life

Needless suffering

2e8cec13e15efc5d9eec59b6d9746923--christian-paintings-christian-art

Pict. by Thomas Blackshear

 

Needless suffering

The vulnerable person can’t cope,

anxiety creeps and steals hope.

Those people suffer, we all suffer.

 

The strong tries to stay on foot,

silence takes hold of their pain howl.

Those people suffer, we all suffer.

 

The well-intentioned tries hard

while their feet get stuck in the path of tar.

Those people suffer, we all suffer.

 

The wicked don’t love themselves,

but they loathe everyone else.

Those people suffer, we all suffer.

 

The addicted can’t give up their excess,

their one weakness is greater than their strength

Those people suffer, we all suffer.

 

God’s people can’t see his face,

Their faith is tested, it tribulates.

Those people suffer, we all suffer.

 

Godless people see their peace shatter,

Faith in humanity seems to falter.

Those people suffer, we all suffer.

 

We forgive one another, compensate personal voids

with each other strengths. Save our souls.

Our minds understand there is no need to suffer.

 

©Virginia Munoz

Advertisements

Paranoia

 

circus

Paranoia

I have left blank spaces

That was filled in with their own thoughts

My words have been twisted

Into a beast of a storm

The place was turned into a circus

And I was the main act

After all was said and done

I might have as well been stoned

Instead of an exit applause

 

©Virginia Munoz 2018

Holometaboly

My dear friend, we couldn’t reach you but saw you finding strength to overcome your own self. We are so proud of you.

 

Monarch_Butterfly_Chrysalis

Holometaboly

Do you remember when you felt broken?
quietly crying non stop, silently screaming,
anxiety taking over, your brain drowning.
In a impossible situation. A paralizing feeling,
your weren’t sad, no, you were just paralized
while the world revolved, you, paralized.

Do you remember? the numbness,
not a tear gas grenade could make
your eyes cry, fighting to hold it all together,
your heart dancing a furious dance, your mind
no knowing what is peace, all a mist.

Do you remember? A castle made of flesh
all complete with turrets and battlements,
all fortifications were no strong enough,
always an internal conflict, right and must.
A curtain wall was no defense against yourself.

Day to day agony, your shoulders,
the world, their disdain, your pain,
the burden had you torn. Going along,
you fancied, you must do it all alone.

The horizon starting to hide the sun.
Your pace, your legs had slowed down,
the path had disappeared in the dark
alas in the light of day, other paths
were as dark as night, you saw none.

Do you remember the vacant stare?
walking to a calvary, seeing only those
others that walked in the same way
blind to joy, other’s happiness just hurt.

Something happened then,
I don’t remember exactly when
you went through all your past trials
counting your failures and thinking: what a waste!

An unorthodox lecture “God didn’t create rubbish”
The times you had done well and felt
proud came back to you, the times
when you had felt close to dying
you were feeling it again..
and realized. How many times?
But you had survived!

Holometaboly means a
complete metamorphosis:
a caterpillar turns into a chrysallys,
it re-ingeneers itself a new life, but for
of all that to happen, all inside has to break down.

So you were ready to change, Xanax hadn’t helped!
Every new test, you kept visiting yourself in the past
nobody else’s words helped you then
so now you take your own advise
You still don’t have wings
but they will come…
when you are ready to fly.

 

©Virginia Munoz

Of Stainless Steel

I am made of

when I cry

my tears don’t rust my face

 

 

@Virginia Munoz

No fitting in

There is always a reason to stay… find it, please stay.

2013-01-05 20.18.48

Pic. by moi

 

No fitting in

 

In rough schools good manners

were not popular to begin with but

when people with more “education”

saw he had no possessions,

 

they all stay away, just as they

like how he dressed until he said

“I don’t wear brands” –  and laughs.

Just as well, he doesn’t care to fit in.

 

Why should someone criticize him

For joining a street party or listening to Bach?

Religion doesn’t make you good nor bad,

Scripture can be cited as the lawyer quotes the law.

 

Depression he understands well,

Forgive him though, if he choses

Not to fall down with you

He has his reason to cling to positivity

 

Because, when a child, in a loved one

He noticed the ridges tattooed in their wrists

He felt he wasn’t loved enough to make them stay,

But now, he always has someone to love well.

 

 

©Virginia Munoz

Poet

My friends, thank you for being in the world, wherever you are.

Iara Ching

Poet

 

I have a friend who is a poet,

a noble prince of the desert

and the world is a drowning marsh.

 

I have a friend who is a poet,

has to be braver than the rest, it

takes strength to put a heart in display.

 

I have a friend who is a poet,

he is not a person who commands

but someone who battles on the front line.

 

I have a friend who is a poet,

his words, arrows aimed at your head

but they always manage to find your heart.

 

I have a friend who is a poet,

one who rarely mention God’s name but

with love in hand, always acts on his behalf.

 

I have a friend who is a poet,

he grew up with a conscience that is enough,

on his own, to compensate for the world’s lack.

 

I have a friend who is a poet,

when it comes to romance, never rushes,

he knows clothes are the easiest layers to take off.

 

I have a friend who is a poet,

he doesn’t want fame, doesn’t own a pen,

has a great mind and let a feeling to reign over it.

 

 

©Virginia Munoz

(Omnipresent)

Omnipresent wind,

It takes autumn leaves away

And spreads new spring seeds.

 

 

© Virginia Munoz

Tandem

Most of the poems (beautifully written) and prompts I have looked at lately were so dark, I just had to write this as part of my darkness detox programme.

 

Domino

Pic featured in https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_57QraVgTHU

 

 

Tandem

Society made you, it mashed you up,
But society is you and I, what are giving?

Get up! We were all made the same.
They broke your mud protective walls
now show them what is at your core.

Is a fact that you walk alone, why deny?
But so are we all, the rest of us, all.

Who do you look to for strength?
You reach for a pit of fossil fuel when
you are a source of clean energy inside.

Get up! We are all hurting, that is sign
that there is no void, you have a heart!
And without it you are just an empty husk.

Get up! The final war is coming, can’t you see?
We need you in the ranks, we are in tandem,
join us, if you fall someone will fall with you,
are you ready to stand? We need you at your post.

Get up! Look at yourself, you are made of love,
You need nobody to fill you up, walk alongside us.
Get up, I beg you, think of those who feel like you,
Extend your hand, help each other to stand right.

© Virginia Munoz

Mediocrity (about a mediocre poem)

This poem will not rhyme

Because it’s about not being in tune,

Wasn’t conceived to conform perfection

Unpolished, organic and crude.

This mediocre person thinks

That when philosophies reach

A conclusion, they are just theories

Because they leave no room for thought;

Loves radical ideas but she bloody

Well knows, that the builder

And the architect always disagree.

The heroes never die to save the world

They only keep the balance and they know.

I will be so relieved when someone

Far more clever than me

Tells me that I am so very wrong.

© Virginia Munoz

War Poem # 1

 

War Poem #1

Submission

Before the battle even starts, I am fighting

While I beat my steel into shape, I fight.

Drawing out the sword, for now it is just metal.

 

I strike with the hammer thousand times,

the sparks flying off the red-hot material,

my sense of purpose cools it in between.

 

It has to be my will that will shape its blade.

I am the Maker, I am the Master!

I remind it while I am grinding its point.

 

My soul keeps this creature heated for annealing,

it is my sweat that cools the blade in the hardening process

and I temper it with the blood of hands.

 

Every striking motion was love,

My creation is now an extension of me,

I will cut through those who obstruct my path.

 

My job is done, its dance will be swift and graceful.

Perfect shine, balance of hardness and flexibility.

The armour comes on and I wield my sword.

 

The first fight is over:

I submit to my Master…like the sword.

%d bloggers like this: