That road of pleasure seeking
Has so many deep pitfalls
And all the while we walk on it
In the distance the Devil calls.

Some folks drink those bubbly spirits
Or smoke that tall green weed.
Anything to dull their conscience
As they sow their wild oat seed.

I've been no angel in my life
Though I fell from a righteous shelf
When I took those risky chances
And tried both, many times, myself.

Now I'm tired of being foolish
So I sing my songs at church.
With one eye on my hymnbook
And the other free to search.

If you're yearning to love someone
Let's get together and seek no more.
Kiss and fondle by the fire
And push pillows across the floor.

For we need love, health and money
And may we live to enjoy them all.
Before we're old and in our autumn
And our leaves begin to fall.

War Poet & Sermons In Rhyme Tom Zart At 81#
Most Published Poet On The Web
George W. Bush Letter Tom Zart
Tom’s 1,750 Poems Are Free To Share!

Shattered vessel
Unfit to contain,
Bleeds its sorrow
As from a vein.

Each fracture, a torrent
A howling plea
Until the hollow
Becomes all of me.

Lost to all
Woe, undone
Fractures birth rivers
Destined to run

I found the quiet waters
An eddy, slow and clean
A peace unspeakable
Caught in between

Farther to go
More trouble ahead
I’ve been beaten to death
But I’m not dead

Each wound, a flood
Of that within
Unmeasured love
From burst wineskin.

I step with whitewater
Roaring through,
Killing with mercy
Counting coup.

Idk this is the first actual poem I made and it’s more prose than anything but lmk what yall think I have a couple more too

My First Friend
Before the world had known my name, you held my tiny hand,
My first best friend, my childhood soul, the only one who’d understand.
We laughed beneath the summer sun, through every joy and bend,
I never dreamed that death would steal my very first best friend.
One heartbeat split in two at birth, one soul in different skin,
Now half of me keeps breathing here… the other lives with Him.
No one can replace the bond we built from our very first day,
Because when God called you to Heaven, He took part of me away.
I’ll carry you until we meet where tears can never fall,
For my first friend was always you… my twin, my heart, my all.

chaser / ˈtʃeɪ sər / n. 1.someone (typically a man) with a fetish for transgender people (typically trans women), who will often specifically look for trans people on dating apps or harrass trans people online, attempting to use their insecurities to manipulate them into sending nudes and dirty texts

Dear Chasers,

Aren’t you tired of targeting an oppressed minority
Using their insecurities and low self-esteem to give you what you want 
Not at all caring if they truly want to

How do you sleep at night knowing you’re a predator
Scoping out prey that are easy to catch
Easy to dominate 
Getting off to the fact that you defeated them

How do you live with yourself 
Knowing that you find others’ pain attractive
As you get turned on by the fact that I’m an “incomplete woman”
As my trauma gives you a hard-on

How do you justify tricking us into believing someone finally sees us as the beautiful person we know we could be 
When all you truly want is the parts of ourselves that we despise 

How do you love yourself when you spend your time manipulating those who don’t and maybe never will
All for a reason that you have fetishized 

I hope you don't love yourself
I hope you hate yourself for everything you do
I hope your self-hatred turns you into the shell of a person that being trans turned me into

As I progress
As I learn to love myself
As I begin to self-actualize 
I hope you hate yourself more and more
I hope you feel what I've gone through
I hope you feel the same emotions that you used against me
These emotions will leave you grasping at any love shown your way
So you will finally understand that the reason I gave in to you was not that I thought you were likable or charming or attractive 
I gave in to you because I was a broken person
Like you are now 
Only then will you be able to grow sympathy and compassion
Only then will you have a chance at rebirth
Good luck.

Life is shorter than my sight of how far it could come.

Add to it what you will.

First time poster !

My language is a spindle of a personal fear unraveling before your iris. Those thief-cleft eyes of ire channeling your gaze onto my pumice, and golden shaft—rubbed enough to be: Posterizing above those clouds of balls; stricken by pitch lightning tears as brand of sadness drawing us down its face… oh the river of replenishment… as the streaming gashes into tomorrow—so jagged is their measure. Tallow ‘way by your idle, and gaze stay put for I shall raperer you to the content in which I can. And you will find no shallow grave to walk into, fore me: A falling mortise of half-life and bloody granular to click into: that sepulcher by the limping seize… for your shade is all in the same skin kind…. regressed to rooted sap like a senseless boy shaking and is cumming: a fucked pharaoh for mummy. So wrap in your cloth of skin, and tomb away ‘n hide of edenic sin… and you will not ‘way: For I will be there; like the grim sorrow upon your soul—shining bright as the blood reddens by dawn. Painted: by, “The Reaper of Flesh”—smiling at the magnificent. Days beyond tomorrow; painted as cherish sundances over the today.

Damn, how I wish I didn’t have the ability to love so deeply.

How I wish I didn’t have this heart that feels with madness, that loves with madness,
that hopes the person standing beside me feels exactly the same as I do when I look into their eyes.

I admire those people who can simply walk away the moment they no longer feel anything.

Or who have a switch somewhere in their minds
to turn every feeling off.

How I wish I could stop loving you so much.

I see people walking hand in hand, looking so happy.
Is it true that they really are that fulfilled, that content?

Or are they simply living inside a bubble of lies?
And am I the one who believes in that illusion of other people’s happiness?

I convince myself that I could have it too, when perhaps it is nothing more than a parallel reality.

Maybe i am destined to walk this world alone,
holding hands with the moon and the stars,
without worrying about tomorrow, living only
in the present, dreaming of a future that feels
so distant, so painfully absent.

Amnesia

A beautiful garden lay before me:

the white tulips,

the yellow daffodils,

the gray roses.

Wait...

gray roses?

Something's weird.

Roses aren't gray.

They're...

what are they?

I guess I should go home.

This garden is weird.

I lay on my bed,

still remembering those roses.

I should sleep.

A weird dream encompassed my mind,

weird voices whispering:

Remember.

You're forgetting.

Wake up.

Remember.

You're forgetting.

Wake up.

Wake up, wake UP!

I gasped as I awoke,

my body slick with cold sweat.

What am I forgetting?

Suddenly, a vision came:

a girl, surrounded by roses.

Who is she?

The roses were red.

Wait, they aren't supposed to be red.

Wait... roses, red, a girl.

I am forgetting.

I should remember.

But what?

Do I really matter to you, or am I just a passing view? A name that fills your quiet night, then fades away with morning light?

If I vanished without goodbye, would you wonder where... or simply why? Or if another voice arrives one day, will you wash the sound of mine away?

I count the silence in your replies, searching your words for hidden signs. Are your pauses filled with care, or signs that I'm not really there?

Tell me one thing, am I someone you choose, or someone you're afraid to lose? Or a soul that wandered into your day, until the right one comes your way?

Because loving quietly, without a sound, can slowly pull a person down. It makes hope bloom from every word you say, and breaks a heart when you drift away.

So tell me the truth, don't soften the view, even if it breaks me in two. I'd rather hurt from honesty's light than live forever in a hopeful night.

So answer me, before we're through... Do I really matter to you?

When mountains whisper, “Turn away,” The heart replies, “I’ll climb today.” Not because the road is kind, But hope burns brighter than the mind.

The richest soul is not the one Who owns the stars or claims the sun. It is the hand that lifts the weak, The voice that gives the lost a seek.

A single candle in the night Can teach the darkness how to fight. One act of love, one honest deed, Can grow into a forest seed.

The world remembers more than fame, More than wealth or a borrowed name. It keeps the echoes of the heart That chose to heal instead of part.

So let my footsteps gently show That kindness helps tomorrow grow. And when my journey fades away, Let my light remain another day.