Out of my asshole,
and return,
to where you once came.
Out of my asshole,
save yourself to blame.
Unexpectedly, out I said,
For if you dare look,
you’ll see my shit on your head.
A Poetic Love Affair
Category: Poetry
Lonely
A poem..
I write it,
I buy it,
I review it.
Limited and restricted,
I’m my own critic.
I play with myself,
But, I’m poor,
Because I cannot pay myself.
❤🗽✌
Opus Magnum
Opus Magnum By: Francis Joseph LaManna Celestial coordinate grids- Spun from arachnids, And the world's fear, is sight unclear. They sit in meditation, hoping for a little intuition, to fix a situation, with more imagination. But to tell the truth, Imagination might be enough, For humans to conquer, And break through the rough. Time lines of history, millennia mysteries- still making sense of it all; Spacetime, Time in space, We're recalling The Fall. The more I walk- The more I crawl. Slow down my sun, He doesn't say it, but I know he feels it. Our hands meet, and something happens, either a deal is made, or it's congratulations. The path forward, now set to unfold, it's one that favors action- the courageous and bold. We're awakened by incompatible opposites, which change our focus, to the possibility- we've returned for a purpose. That's destiny! And we learn, we aren't trying to complete a process, but rather, we are the process. The Great Work is us! We're being molded and engineered, as our soul journeys to completion.
Hello
Good Morning.
That shooting yesterday at the Sunoco 7 Eleven was the second gas station/convenient store shooting in Lehigh County in less than a year. The other ended up becoming a murder-suicide at the Rt. 100 Wawa in Breinigsville nine months ago.
Be careful.
It’s a Saturday morning, and this is kind of like a freestyle post me. Sometimes rappers freestyle, and you can do it as a writer to. Even if you have no material in mind-just start writing.
Poetry-A Freestyle Session
No rush,
No worry,
There’s not a reason for either.
Your path is waiting Keeper.
Nature is your teacher.
No doubt,
No fear,
It shall all become clear.
Evolutionary leap,
it seems out of reach,
but it’s not.
Stop and think on this,
It’s a decision,
That’s all it is.
Enjoy your Saturday everyone.
TimeemiT
My new book, Smorgasbord 3 The Final Platter begins with this poem. I posted it on here a little while ago, but I decided to bring it back as a sneak preview of what’s to come. Enjoy!
TimeemiT
The ticking of the clock,
plays a trance-like melody,
in my mind;
a beautiful symphony.
An orchestra in tune,
perpetuating the mood,
of energetic-never ending high;
though a portrait of time,
tells us it’s noon.
Anxious thoughts and reality loom,
Oh how beautiful,
that circle filled with numerals;
yet-it ticks and ticks until our funerals.
Those hands!
Time can be harsh,
though we forget,
in the memories of emotional marsh,
the clock is ticking.
Time is running out.
Jentry 6
Hidden Inspiration
I’m tired of going digital;
giving away my thoughts has become habitual!
So now, I keep my thoughts hidden.
Whenever I feel driven,
Whenever I break from living,
I indulge in the way of the heart.
Classical art,
Paper and pens;
meditation through a spiritual lens.
It might take a ritual to solve this riddle!
We live in a world that’s magical;
the symbolism leans mystical,
though it’s hard to explain,
I will, and I’ll make it plain.
The Goddess is triple,
The stars twinkle,
and the state is blissful.
Think in terms that are simple.
-Francis J. LaManna
What Shall I Do?
How shall I finish, how shall I start,
Is it always fair to follow matters of the heart?
In the clutches of passion,
to stay buried while the whole world collapses,
would be foolish in a fleeting moment passing.
I’m counting on people now,
I couldn’t count on then,
When will I learn?
I could do it all, but I’m not the only soul with a pen.
Let it go, that’s what I tell myself,
get to work,
and put those other books on the shelf.
The road less traveled seems like a waste of time,
because there is none for all these rights and lefts,
where are you to follow through on what I suggest?
Forget it man, I’m not going back to bed,
I’m awake now and blazing the trail ahead.
And what about love?
And,
what would I do if push came to shove?
She’ll be waiting there when I get home,
If it’s real, but if not,
I shall finish alone.
A Rose for Grace
Spring time bloom,
Vibrant colors so bright.
Summer moon,
A clear and crispy night.
In evening wear,
and a robe made of lace,
Shouts the personification of grace.
Her calls echo in space.
She calls for her love,
her passion burns,
for him, without, she’s lost,
until she turns.
He’s behind her with a flower.
Inspiration; a poetic collaboration
I know we only advertised this collaboration one day in advance, but here it is:
Inspiration
By: Grace Y. Estevez & Francis Joseph LaManna
Awakened by the thunder,
And the rain,
So real-a-dream in my slumber,
Only memories remain.
Felt shaken, drenched in sweat,
Still sleeping yet awake
Try to steady my breadth
feel real, no longer fake.
Conscious reality now that I’m awake,
Brought forth from a world of dreams
Make no mistake
A spark of passion with golden beams.
Lights up my unsure mind
Then sparks within my heart
Stirred up and well defined
This moment marks the start.
An old-fashioned loose leaf canvas,
Sensational revelations in ink
Only wisdom and spark can grant this
Through artistical blends-woven in sync.
Fears cease and surrender,
Both tears and canvas dry
Inspired by splendor
To relentlessly try.
I hope you enjoyed reading this as much as we did creating it. Once again, I’d like to personally thank Grace Y. Estevez from the website Grace of the Sun. If you would like to read more of Grace’s work please visit https://graceofthesun.com/2021/05/05/gift/
Winter Love
Crackling-the wood burns.
A flame;
fanning the flames of love.
We cuddle by that fire,
we kiss in the glow,
we make love in the heat.
Outside, the snow accumulates,
Inside, our love escalates.
Another snowy day,
It’s another cold day,
but together, we melt in play.
Nooz Buffet 