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The Wounded Self

If I could be my ego death
The pain of love could be outrun
I could forget
The distance of your womanhood
To peace succumb

Dissolute and self-effaced
No mirrored shadow of desire
I could achieve
Sunder of hard material
Breakdown of inner pride

The wounded self seeks healing
To wholly disappear
But necessary still to rise
To bear the weight you find to be
Too heavy to ignore

Buried by a hail of tears
Offshore. And I meanwhile

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poem by Frank Bana
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Up in the Skies

Up in the skies, there are matters of strange habit,
Just we succumb to labours, these are accurate.
The fate of a man skills in armour and pain,
Open history of someone when to abstain.

Upstairs in the clouds their songs are like fog,
The skies solidly think like Socrates and his dialogue.
Inside a layer of ice stays mission, consideration,
The height mistakes the heavenly splendour, all mistaken.

Let matters of habit still be strange, on the up and down,
Concerning us as we feud and always in town.

poem by Naveed Akram
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Faith Is Our Fate

Faith molds our fate
A path upon which to reach
Our destiny
Where every step we make
We passed our past
To look back what fractured us
And repair it along the way

Faith is a ladder to our success
Between rails of trials and errors
Choices and decisions
But to commit them wrong
We hold on to our faith
Believing Him up there
Extending His hands
For us not to fall

It is a root to our growth
That supplement our minds
Not to succumb from failures

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poem by Efren Petalver Carranza
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Greed

This is a poison
That eats away at man

It's careless
And reckless

It doesn't care for
People's dreams

It slash's
The out stretched hands
With out a thought or care

Why must we succumb?
To the hand that feeds us all

I talk about the politics
That destroys a person's
Will to live

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poem by Kaila George
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Be Nobody's Darling

Be nobody's darling;
Be an outcast.
Take the contradictions
Of your life
And wrap around
You like a shawl,
To parry stones
To keep you warm.
Watch the people succumb
To madness
With ample cheer;
Let them look askance at you
And you askance reply.
Be an outcast;
Be pleased to walk alone
(Uncool)
Or line the crowded
River beds
With other impetuous
Fools.

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poem by Alice Walker
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Unbounded Solitude

Scorch your gnashing teeth on revelries,
By the whim of dead air
You were never there.

Gorge upon the ecstasy of amities,
By the first sign of erring
You were never there.

Smother it; you are alone profoundly
Amongst a crowd, amidst the city
You were never there.

Walk with legs superfluous and hungry
By the feral tides on the shore
Your foot prints were never there.

Succumb a pristine repose
One that is easy to loathe
For you were never there.

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poem by Norman Santos
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Life Is Always Shorter When We Think About It

an inch away
always an inch away from
sudden deaths

that is how we measure
time
luck makes it a little wider
a second
becomes meaningful

a friend dies alone
in his Makati apartment
but he was able
to say
good luck to all his friends
away from him
before that crucial moment

he made peace with God
i imagine

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poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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At one with myself

The heavens are distressed this morning,
A thunderous roar erupts piercing the break of dawn,
Rain lashes incessantly against the window pane,
I burrow deeper into myself,
And wrap my proverbial blanket ever closer.
Autumn golds and browns are drowned by winters ire,
Melancholic, reflective murmurings brushed aside,
as yesterday's excesses are washed away,
Baton down the hatches and stop the clocks,
I will never succumb to winters mistress,
The fire burns bright in my heart and I embrace the day ahead.

poem by Simon Thorpe
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The beast sleeps

The quiet solitude of the early
Hours of morning while Humanity
Is still asleep, soothes and heals my Psyche.
The hum of my computer while I type
Is the only bearable sound. I succumb
To this transcendental inner sanctum.
Away from those raucous sounds that are caused
By the beast’s awakening. Injuring
Noise that reverberates throughout my brain
Resulting in insensitivity.
Longing once again the tranquility
Only the early morning balm provides.
I’ll relish this comforting quietude
Until the beast once again rears it’s head.

poem by Albert Ahearn
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Emotional Subjection

There is no tyrant quite like feeling.
A bondage that cannot be released.
All we do will forever succumb to it.
Your suffering means that you're human.

Your mind is a warfield.
And your heart is the opposition.
No solution can truly be found.
Forever at war with yourself.

You will obey.
You will cry for it.
You will fall to your knees for it.
You will be numbed by it.
You will be reminded of it.
It cannot be neglected much longer.

Slavery is freedom.
Slavery is freedom.
Slavery is freedom.

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poem by Aaron Lynn
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