Submissions by Clear
POEMS AND SHORT STORIES
Poet Introduction
My name is Torsten Rybka; known as Clear Aka Clear As fire. im a poet, lyricst, writter, composer and photographer. trying to make a difference with this spoken word talent, that God has gave to me
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
25th Oct 2015 8:15am
25th Oct 2015 8:15am
Black On Black Crime
Injustice runs ramped in the streets, were our brothers and sister are looking for refuge... Gee
where skin is thicker than love within boarders and mankind is not at all kind towards the same kind of pigment.
Because of the higher orders that bring chaos in all kinds of orders, blood sweeps the streets and covers every square while in red sheets.
For the lifeless bodies rest their heads on pavements where their souls rest in restless peace.
In the concrete jungle, it is survival of the fittest for those who bare witness to the greatest of killings;
Feet are stamped...
where skin is thicker than love within boarders and mankind is not at all kind towards the same kind of pigment.
Because of the higher orders that bring chaos in all kinds of orders, blood sweeps the streets and covers every square while in red sheets.
For the lifeless bodies rest their heads on pavements where their souls rest in restless peace.
In the concrete jungle, it is survival of the fittest for those who bare witness to the greatest of killings;
Feet are stamped...
768 reads
0 Comments
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
16th Oct 2015 9:22pm
16th Oct 2015 9:22pm
The Lost and Trying To Find
The American Dream is Africans worst nightmare;
Where the red, blue and white has painted over the red, gold and green with a double coat.
we rested our strength through gods when we fell praise to the paper size Benjamin Franklin.;
Gravity gave up on pulling us down to earth, when we started to float on by with spaceships to moons.
The perspective of culture has surrendered when we wondered what the star twinkle banner was;
Ebony skin tones got weaved out lite, to be straight, just cause we relaxed and let down our hair down.
Identity is packed and erased by the...
Where the red, blue and white has painted over the red, gold and green with a double coat.
we rested our strength through gods when we fell praise to the paper size Benjamin Franklin.;
Gravity gave up on pulling us down to earth, when we started to float on by with spaceships to moons.
The perspective of culture has surrendered when we wondered what the star twinkle banner was;
Ebony skin tones got weaved out lite, to be straight, just cause we relaxed and let down our hair down.
Identity is packed and erased by the...
636 reads
0 Comments
LOVE POEM
Published
16th Oct 2015 9:03pm
16th Oct 2015 9:03pm
Love Lost
Love... does not live here any more;
it backed its bags and left a broken heart behind.
drowning in pool of memories with flash backs;
which are blown away by stabbing kisses.
and bear hugs that are taking ones breath away;
with a touch that is long forgotten from distance.
promises put in the back of the mind and misplaced;
deepest experiences of love being a terrible enjoyment.
Love... Does not love here anymore;
it backed its bags and left a broken heart behind.
drowning in pool of memories with flash backs;
which are blown away by stabbing kisses.
and bear hugs that are taking ones breath away;
with a touch that is long forgotten from distance.
promises put in the back of the mind and misplaced;
deepest experiences of love being a terrible enjoyment.
Love... Does not love here anymore;
603 reads
0 Comments
LOVE POEM
Published
15th Oct 2015 6:19pm
15th Oct 2015 6:19pm
My Honest Heart
She asked me if i could buy her the moon, for the earth is too expensive to have.
Well... i will get her to buy into my truth for her to feel and see, how much my honesty is worth.
For I don't want to promise anything, for my wallet is as shallow as the puddles on the sun;
as the demands of life and expectations of the world, apply so much pressure that's soul can't breath.
So I hope that these perspectives that cause the world to black out, do not become of you;
Look at me. . . I'm that simple brother trying to get by, by building a mansion in heaven for God to...
Well... i will get her to buy into my truth for her to feel and see, how much my honesty is worth.
For I don't want to promise anything, for my wallet is as shallow as the puddles on the sun;
as the demands of life and expectations of the world, apply so much pressure that's soul can't breath.
So I hope that these perspectives that cause the world to black out, do not become of you;
Look at me. . . I'm that simple brother trying to get by, by building a mansion in heaven for God to...
650 reads
0 Comments
SPIRITUAL POEM
Published
15th Oct 2015 5:52pm
15th Oct 2015 5:52pm
Change
Hello God... Its me again, i know its been a minute, but i was hoping you have sometime to spare, for this will only... take a second
I haven't paid you a visit for sometime now and it looks and feels that i have some how lost my way along the way.
That has made me realize that our bond has taken a weird turn and it has become other wise.
It has become to tense and it has become to strict each and everyday;
Holding my heart, trying to live how it feels, but mean while I was running my mouth with lies
Thinking that I've got everything figured out and that i could...
I haven't paid you a visit for sometime now and it looks and feels that i have some how lost my way along the way.
That has made me realize that our bond has taken a weird turn and it has become other wise.
It has become to tense and it has become to strict each and everyday;
Holding my heart, trying to live how it feels, but mean while I was running my mouth with lies
Thinking that I've got everything figured out and that i could...
755 reads
2 Comments
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
21st Jan 2015 1:38pm
21st Jan 2015 1:38pm
Walk A Mile In My Shoes
I'm that guy. . . that exists on the streets. . . traveling on bare feet. . . asking you to please walk a mile in my shoes
For the cracks on my heels wont heal, so that reveals. that i am a Normad that travels long distances without any idea of what to do.
For my 9 to 5, to survive on a daily basis is by means of going through my dinner plate, looking for whatever thrown away food that i could find and if I'm struck, by bad luck, i would swallow my bride and tap on the shoulders that pass and ask. . . may i have something to keep me alive if you do not mind.
From one...
For the cracks on my heels wont heal, so that reveals. that i am a Normad that travels long distances without any idea of what to do.
For my 9 to 5, to survive on a daily basis is by means of going through my dinner plate, looking for whatever thrown away food that i could find and if I'm struck, by bad luck, i would swallow my bride and tap on the shoulders that pass and ask. . . may i have something to keep me alive if you do not mind.
From one...
1031 reads
3 Comments
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
22nd Oct 2014 5:51pm
22nd Oct 2014 5:51pm
To The Women. . .
To The Women. . .
Who Welcomes the new sun, to a new day and keeps the moon company at night for sleeping. . . is always a nightmare.
For she seeks justice informally for maybe in case, the ancestors might just perhaps care.
For nobody in the community seems to care, so they decide to swear at her and God at the same time, by sticking their middle fingers in the air.
For domestic violence is silenced to the judges judgement, so the treatment she is getting. . . cannot be bared.
To The Women. . .
Who receives kisses from fist and show their affection through...
Who Welcomes the new sun, to a new day and keeps the moon company at night for sleeping. . . is always a nightmare.
For she seeks justice informally for maybe in case, the ancestors might just perhaps care.
For nobody in the community seems to care, so they decide to swear at her and God at the same time, by sticking their middle fingers in the air.
For domestic violence is silenced to the judges judgement, so the treatment she is getting. . . cannot be bared.
To The Women. . .
Who receives kisses from fist and show their affection through...
878 reads
4 Comments
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
1st Oct 2014 8:50pm
1st Oct 2014 8:50pm
Food for thought
When fate consumes the taste of time, men forget add spices such as hope and faith;
Then the corner stones of our memories become bland and allis lost in stirred up tea cup dreams.
Reality becomes a dish that best served cold, on a dining table that is not seasoned well with love;
The past is a lite starter that is over seen; the present is a heavy meal too much to swallow and the future is a dessert too sweet to be handled by wisdom teeth.
We set our minds to 180 degrees to be oven baked Blythe pains of the past;
Buttered thoughts interrupts the fellowship of...
Then the corner stones of our memories become bland and allis lost in stirred up tea cup dreams.
Reality becomes a dish that best served cold, on a dining table that is not seasoned well with love;
The past is a lite starter that is over seen; the present is a heavy meal too much to swallow and the future is a dessert too sweet to be handled by wisdom teeth.
We set our minds to 180 degrees to be oven baked Blythe pains of the past;
Buttered thoughts interrupts the fellowship of...
707 reads
0 Comments
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
9th Sep 2014 4:11pm
9th Sep 2014 4:11pm
Tomorrow
1357 reads
4 Comments
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
9th Sep 2014 3:55pm
9th Sep 2014 3:55pm
The Sun Down Man
There is this specific Gentleman in my home town by the name of question. . . Mark
His world seems to be upside down, but from his point of view, it’s still the same, even if his white veil is dark.
For breakfast, his first appointment is with his first glass of the day with no shame;
Just to keep the viper’s echoing ringing sound in the ears at bay or otherwise tame.
So this specific gentleman in my home town refuses to put his ear to the ground;
He doesn’t want to listen when God speaks, for he prefers to get advice from the brown bottle that gets his knees weak and...
His world seems to be upside down, but from his point of view, it’s still the same, even if his white veil is dark.
For breakfast, his first appointment is with his first glass of the day with no shame;
Just to keep the viper’s echoing ringing sound in the ears at bay or otherwise tame.
So this specific gentleman in my home town refuses to put his ear to the ground;
He doesn’t want to listen when God speaks, for he prefers to get advice from the brown bottle that gets his knees weak and...
688 reads
0 Comments
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
8th Sep 2014 6:04pm
8th Sep 2014 6:04pm
Kicking the Habit
Hi. . . My name is Clear and I have an addiction for this thing called Spoken Word.
And it all started when I was introduced to sessions that sparked joints;
Where listeners got lost and hallucinated in the right dosage of words;
This came from the mouths of dope heads, which never mislead.
Who burn A4 pages from the dome, on every stage for commonsense sentences?
Shrooms would fill the room at a state of intellectual ecstasy;
And the dealer would be the organizer of such cause and effect.
Passing out on microphones from an immediate fix from stanzas;
Drooling...
And it all started when I was introduced to sessions that sparked joints;
Where listeners got lost and hallucinated in the right dosage of words;
This came from the mouths of dope heads, which never mislead.
Who burn A4 pages from the dome, on every stage for commonsense sentences?
Shrooms would fill the room at a state of intellectual ecstasy;
And the dealer would be the organizer of such cause and effect.
Passing out on microphones from an immediate fix from stanzas;
Drooling...
813 reads
0 Comments
SPIRITUAL POEM
Published
8th Sep 2014 5:51pm
8th Sep 2014 5:51pm
Skewed eyes unto heaven
God is misunderstood; yes I pray we could,
Take Him more serious than bowing our heads in the way we should.
And if we would, embrace faith just like childhood;
For we need that constant feed of the gospel like food.
The Lord made us and the earth in those 7 days;
Then why is it that we visit God only on Sundays.
Most times it is in troubles when we remember Him;
I can do wrong at any time, he always forgives our sins.
Then we boldly point fingers towards even heaven;
Like why do we have to witness such tragedies like 9/11?
He blew breath of life, did...
Take Him more serious than bowing our heads in the way we should.
And if we would, embrace faith just like childhood;
For we need that constant feed of the gospel like food.
The Lord made us and the earth in those 7 days;
Then why is it that we visit God only on Sundays.
Most times it is in troubles when we remember Him;
I can do wrong at any time, he always forgives our sins.
Then we boldly point fingers towards even heaven;
Like why do we have to witness such tragedies like 9/11?
He blew breath of life, did...
767 reads
0 Comments
DU Poetry : Submissions by Clear
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