Porter's Pore Avenue

  Due time, would that be I mean truly be If i could ask again May i ask in due hours Hours of pains I seek your door Again, i knock Though might be Be at dawn As i whine Stabbed Gloat in vain I was near When death blew his trumpet Calls me I mean again With metronone of .... Clinical experiences Doctors  trains of expertise I will jack awake I seek again justice From pain As i awake from a jab I really wanted to To fly across many fountains Deep Cuts That left me No words Signal frightened Network seizure I wanted that too To really be again. For i may not awake from a jab If neither gold Nor flame boil my pain all way Now, i pen In sorrow As it written all over me Glistening spirit dispiriting Wasn't i told not to be A smile clear as rose And, Petals free as air road Would i really be A face where the earth take pictures Or, Planks lace in ruins. Would i rather Or never be The breathing breathe All breathe gasp. Would i rally

                           Wait!       Are they making you do things                    Unholy practice           It's tough to save yourself                  "I vow to know thee                      In thee i blest                 O come the voyage                       In thou i vow"                  Were they handling        Your curiosity with calm                 "Lest thou fall                In trap they weave               Thou knowest not               Thy rest cometh thou"       Why don't you do the same       Make them do your thing                  Holy things     It is not meant only for you          But for you to share                          "O sage                      Thou wouldest do                    Which they doest                Bringeth thee holy sage"                 Have heard the goodnews                      Of his goodness              Let the whole world come             To have a taste in

Broken Shattered  to be a tormentor Invisibility hold me down My soul-weary in frustration I screamed in rhythm No wall to befell No place to lay my head on See melancholy! My spirit yielding cries Whining in desperation I looked around Searching for a rope Just maybe I can come alive Or just be hanged For it  to halt Only blood seeped out Living has become a debt to pay Who is my heckler? I seekest thou Thou art scared of my helper The swings dash me to the wind Making me prey to the rain My inner anguish grieves My reflection double I glanced at the rays  Hoping it will penetrate But darkness... Just confusion follows The birds sing in melody The ants work concurrently My  denizens burn within My soul My spirit My heart Oh God, just let me receive it That ye can give Which can last for a lifetime That anointing grace  Which serves as an umbrella in the rain Which serves as a reflection in the sun Which serves as clothes in the cold Just once

  Have you ever watch from the high or peak of a mountain, watching the sea foam and swipe. Have you ever realise how much you hold with you. The landscape. The greens, shells, throngs of men giggling and laughing. The sea water flushing through the nape of their feet. Those wearing bikinis— others in strapless apparel. The mud fraying in the air— a caramel, golden trickle eye fetching through the crowd. Memories re-shaping, burial awaken.     Now, imagine been attacked in the middle of the night— when the half moon hide behind the cloud cloak. Masked men feasting the darkness, careful steps, cautions movement for their preys. Whoever come for their pranks shriek with soft pant. No struggle. Hadn't been they puff it out like panties, shove their passion glaring. Would they felt suffocating and tormenting. Know this, every one have the episodes they are lashing through. You can awake humanity sense of honor. Good stolen, life left in the cleavage of death. Has it redeem you. You ar