Submissions by Prophetic_Ink (Prophetic Ink)

POEMS AND SHORT STORIES

Poet Introduction

The Proph, who started writing at the age of 15... Is now a slam poet. Inspired by Love, Life, passion and awareness. Very Abstract, so you'd have to lO_Ok for the meaning in my poetry.

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Prophetic_Ink
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
10th Jun 2014 7:08am

Light Work

The angel with no wings, just tattoos on his back. A son of light that stays up way past the civilization night and still shine during the day. The sun and he are one. Picks up his unanswered mind and makes a mark on humanity's skin likes bullet shot from gods gun. Swings above existence's pendulum. Searching for souls, but all he finds in eye sockets are vacuums. Creating impastoes with his tears on the soil. After all, he cries ink. And it leaves a razor scar on the silk of his cheeks. The angel with no halo, but just a crown made of rusty thought. That fall like rain on scrolls. Ideas are...
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Prophetic_Ink
LOVE POEM
Published
23rd May 2014 10:16am

Key Is Only 3 Letters

I think our friendship has turned into a question To be or not to be, with each other. Why not? Why not let your enthusiasm have you sucked into something you might not have expected to happen with someone not your type, as you've said emphatically before. Why not trust your heart as a navigator Letting it bring you closer to me As the co-ordinates point and prefix to my heart. I mean, you don't have to search very far. Nor will you have to knock at its door... I've already opened up  All you have to do is say yes...  Say yes to the opening in my soul and fill up the last puzzle of what I...
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723 reads
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Prophetic_Ink
SELF POEM
Published
9th Apr 2014 6:21am

Last Scribes

I was often told that you'll never know the  worth of a pen till you learn how to use it. The ambiguity of ink viscosities...  Literally perplexing the illiterate hand.. But where is the heart and hand co ordination? See with my heart in hand, I steer the pen in every direction, dimension... And keep it afloat upon  the sea of my emotion. I only knew the worth of my pen when I began to find a link between the muscles that activate each time I picked up its heavy conceptuality, And the emotions that paired with relentless diction. That's been restlessly rioting in me for eons and ages So even...
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810 reads
4 Comments
Prophetic_Ink
LOVE POEM
Published
19th Mar 2014 5:01am

The Song

She is a song  That beats with my heart.  That thumps my chest everytime to give me a heart beat.  By just the frequency in her voice's vibrations,  She hums out a Mantra everytime she speaks to me.  She is like that Tibetan gong, That when hit, it echoes infinitely.  The sound waves, are jus so perfect, they raid my spiritual being systematically.  She is a song.  Done with the instruments of her body.  A harmony In tune,  with the nightly sounds that vocally announce the presence of the moon. Her love predominantly mellowing to my blues days, like a Goddess humming a jazz tune. A song that...
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808 reads
5 Comments
Prophetic_Ink
STORY POEM
Published
7th Mar 2014 5:20am

Graffiti On A Tuesday Night (p.3)

See, in this world I portal to... Hip hop is a dimension on its separate self...  So here cats cannot separate the art from self. In a nutshell, just to climb out of the ambiguity... And place my pen on the paper for the first time just to get to the point. I need you to Open your 3rd eye and see through this link of telepathy... That which exists within me.  I Hold cans and markers close to Source, So,each time I contemplate a tagg I'd dip in Gods mind... Picking his brain. Back on earth, thats Called acts of vandalism,  But here we keep the writing infinite like cursive, So from Source's...
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730 reads
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Prophetic_Ink
STORY POEM
Published
4th Mar 2014 5:22am

Graffiti On A Tuesday Night (p.2)

now...  What to make of this realm, That's no real than thoughts of demons? As I paged through the book of consciousness, I got confused with the multiple dimensions... So I folded the fabric of time and space like origami. And brought in to existence a new concept of infinity. See... I'm in timeless space, And this time has virtually no space So I'm blespheming science. Drip drop, drip drop...  Begins the flow of ink in predominant silence. My 3rd eye opens, and visions a world through eye lids. Compounding thought and emotions, to form a conscious hybrid. What's this??? My spine is now my...
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845 reads
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Prophetic_Ink
STORY POEM
Published
2nd Mar 2014 4:42am

Graffiti On A Tuesday Night (p.1)

What a Monday, Almost midnight  What a time, To be traveling in 3D, and putting worlds together  Will I find time to put thoughts and pens together  Wait a minute, give a chance to gather, Enough time to coat these words with collective circling concepts of forever.  Rotating thoughts hit my pad like lyrical Russian roulette... So bring the I some Cannabis, so we can roll that Paper and pure ink, just to bring you this dope shit. Am I running out of words? Or running out of ways? To portray... The very purpose, that defeats me? I mean defines me... Nah... That's like, split entities  Tongues...
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736 reads
2 Comments
Prophetic_Ink
STORY POEM
Published
28th Feb 2014 9:24am

The Last Time I Played With Mud

The last time I played with mud Was the last time I felt alive. The time when hours didn't matter... Amusement found in sand particle matter. I actually, studied quantum physics and observed it there. The last time I played with mud... I molded a statue of a black goddes She came to life and called me a God. The last time I played with mud... I changed the story of creation. First I began with beings of light...  And on the eve of destruction, I created Adams apple. So, then... I permitted aliens to visit the garden. And have them peruse its surface of million year old vegetation. So, I...
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954 reads
5 Comments
Prophetic_Ink
SPIRITUAL POEM
Published
24th Feb 2014 5:56pm

Dark Is The Night

This, when the sun has been away for quite some time. And I start to see silhouettes come to life. Shadows in 3D, walking our streets freely. And the moon shines too far away. When all it ever does is outline the darkness... Its hard to meditate, when my mind drifts away from source... And my thoughts scatter like the light conditions in the night scenes. Trying to take your advice, maybe it'll guide me like street lights. Where is the balance between day and night? When my days have gone dark, and m nights become day. So I wake up to darkness, and sleep with my eyes open. What it peaceful...
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749 reads
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Prophetic_Ink
SELF POEM
Published
23rd Feb 2014 7:49am

Escaping The Black Scape

9 o'clock...
I pour into my room after a lengthy lecture from my parents.
With a bruised heart, and a scared mental.
Slowly becoming bitter, mean and hardened towards everyone near me.
I would try to escape into the cyber world...
Where I take pain and just mixit with burnt Amber of a strangers company.
Trying to dilute the aftermath of emotional neglect.
Tired from listening to two tongues throwing tantrums.
My heart involuntarily drums
As the chemical limbs of adolescent hormones  keep beating it.
Stargazing, mind pacing... Wondering
Then finally...
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704 reads
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Prophetic_Ink
LOVE POEM
Published
14th Feb 2014 4:27pm

Stolen Jewels

I would sound cliche, if I said this any other way... So err, then her face must be made of the DNA in star dust. Resembling the clash of galaxies. Skin smooth and uninterrupted like the blackness of space. But not as cold and oblivious... I hope. Shall I say, killer eyes, that leave concentrations dangling from a rope? Or maybe, cosmic pearls, for titans to ponder? There be no titanic too monumental into her eyes to sink. For they be like oceans of stars... Am I looking for needles in a diamond stash? Either way, they cut deep and leave nerve endings to dangle ridiculous in mesmerized...
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607 reads
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Prophetic_Ink
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
10th Feb 2014 7:00pm

Truth Behind Sarcasm

Err... After noon, I see the moon. Waves the sun. Millions others to see soon. Glasses broken hourly by sand dunes. African soils inhabited by drones. In stars and stripes. Lies are the sweetest, childish pineals are hyped. Truth be told, we've been fed so much poison, our blood isn't our type anymore. Anymore than pale skins can take the sun, is how I feel about hidden truths. Our African beats, pulled out for their roots, and you wonder about the pigments in our Sunday foods. Insanity is sane. Sanity is pain. All who speak wisdom are slain. Could you keep quiet... The system is playing. I...
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690 reads
4 Comments
DU Poetry : Submissions by Prophetic_Ink (Prophetic Ink)
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