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Quote LeftJust wanted to say THANK YOU so much for allowing me to post my poems. The overwhelmingly positive feedback I have received has prompted me to 'publish' a book.Quote Right

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 1      

An African American Woman Sits With Tea

I try to count my blessings
And compare my life to hers
I try to see that I have so many 
reasons 
to maintain my nerves

But, she is the one that never cries
But, she is the one that never cries

She has been through a war
And yet she prays
She has been without food
And yet she hopes for a better day

Yes, she is the one that never cries
Yes, she is the one that never cries

She looks at me and all my glory.
We both wonder 
what I complain about
what’s my story.
Why I don’t have her strength
to survive.
Why with every waking moment
All I think about is how to die.
Maybe I should fly to Iraq,
Or Africa
Become and untouchable
In India
Sell myself and meet this slave
So we can sit and talk
For a moment
And she can teach me how to be brave

And why she is the one that never cries
And why she is the one that never cries

Shotgun Lullaby

They promised to never leave each other, never say goodbye,
Even when their hands parted, and they went their ways. 
He never knew until it was too late, it was too late to say farewell,
He would simply have to cope with the empty home, the lonely days.

Drinking away his time, there was nothing more to do without her, 
That's what he thought as he smashed the bottle onto the floor. 
The guns and knives smiled, they looked awful friendly as he cried.
Screaming until he could no longer say a word, he couldn't take much more.

Thinking it over and over, he didn't know what to do anymore as the worries
Piled on top of him, the liquor was costing him too much, it pushed him to poor. 
But those worries melted away as cold metal poked at his heart, 
And his heart was painted a deep crimson as he cried and fell to the floor. 

His little girl found him later, giggling when he thought it was a joke, he was sleeping,
But little did she know it wasn't the case, she wouldn't hear a lullaby.
The sweetie blamed herself, she looked so much like her mother, it was heartbreaking,
Pain and sorrow wrapping and choking her heart as she tried her best not to cry.

They were both together now, but the little girl was so sad, placed in home to home,
She could only cry herself to sleep as she tried to hold onto her pain. 
Depression took hold of her mind as she slowly withered away like a flower, 
But a beautiful flower like her parents, she was strong to stay sane. 

They were together again, the little girl laughed as she ran through an endless field,
Collecting flowers and running back to her parents, who smiled wide and followed. 
They were happy together, 
And would stay that way forever. 

Chris

Surrounded by the glitz and frippery
the ribbons,bells and stars all meant to warm you
on the mantelpiece, parading with the cards
the one that silently regrets to inform you.
Muffled merriment, jaded joy 
from those who gently tiptoe round your loss
they turn their heads to gaze up at the tree
as you turn yours to gaze down at the cross.
How many times a century ago
was this scene playing out from street to street
as far away in muddied bloodied fields
the unknown sank beneath their comrade's feet?
You walked those trenches, too, not long ago
at Ypres bowed our heads for the last post
stood speechless at Tyne Cot in rows of stone
raised a glass to those that fell and drank a toast.
Then only yesterday the word came through
you'd lost a bitter battle of your own
this time the only casualty was you
and so I raise this glass to you alone.
Sleep well, my friend

A Dark night

Oh! The lighting bugs they light up with cry.
Tis a bright light, Oh! What an excitement;
A monster sails up in the dark night sky!

Its big and cheesy, just like a cheese tie. 
This beast has so much more than alignment. 
A monster sails up in the dark night sky. 

I lay in wonder how it looks like pie.
Flailing in my bed, not doing my assignment. 
I progress through the night’s black-blue end sky. 

Never, say never, a burnt crust is rye;
Trifling for food, it’s a hell confinement.
A monster falls down in the dark night sky. 

The orange and salmon abyss nears my eye. 
This monster, it has a shrew new statement.
A monster falls down in the late night sky. 

Tis morning time, all the birds squeak at high! 
Reading mail for no future indictments. 
Outside I look the window in the sky.
No monster, only the sunshine of mine.

Unmarked Grave

THE BROKEN ONE

No need to send flowers,
 no need to lay a rose,
 I used up my hours,
 now it's time to let me go,
 I tried not to shame,
 I didn't crave you tears,
 But, I am not to blame,
 you do not wish me near,
 I have no "sorry" 's, 
 not for you or the rest,
 so just stifle all your worries,
 don't visit, this grave in my chest

shattered

I can't look...

I watch in disgust
As the scale goes up,
And my stomach drops.

The scale is both my best friend 
And my darkest enemy.
It can either save me,
Or be my utter demise.
But either way,
It doesn't lie.
It always speaks the truth,
No matter the consequences,
No matter the circumstances.

Too much
Too fat
Too imperfect

That's what the voices whisper,
Quietly wreaking havoc in my mind.
Silently breaking me down,
From the inside out.

The mirror breaks
As my fist collides.
Hundreds of crystal pieces,
Stained red with crimson liquid.
The image of myself long gone.

Too much
Too fat
Too imperfect

They echo in my head,
Relentlessly breaking my dreams,
Until they're just like the mirror;
S H A T T E R E D

Too much
Too fat
Too imperfect

The ringing in my ears
A mere whisper,
Compared to the sound
Of my breaking heart.

My Boy

I came alive the moment  I met you
I don't know how I breathed before
You made my life complete dear
And I'll break when you walk out the door.
My boy.

You are special beyond comprehension
So perfect you can't understand
I'll be eternally grateful knowing
You were mine and you held my hand
My boy.

I would die for you dear in a heartbeat
You give more than you can ever know
Such a beautiful soul, my heart swells with pride,
As I stand back and I watch how you grow.
My boy.

Tired my dear, I have watched you sleep
I have cried as I stroked your face
I'll blink and I will be without you
Not here in my happiest place.
My boy.

Live life and love and be happy
Safe in the comfort and joy
Of knowing I will always be waiting
For you my dear, my dear boy.
My boy.




Lines

Lines 
Slim plastic, hand to hand
Thin specks of black, wood and lead
Straight, always straight.
Slanting cursive in cobalt blue 
Loops lazily through, to be read
Between the dead finality of undeviating twos.
Why bother with anything but?
Crossroads meet at perfect rights, 
Her fingers never traced anything but unswerving routes
Along the straight cuts of my jaw.
Head to toe, run it right
Never a loose, always tight.
The tremulous notes of a daintily keyed melody 
No longer wavered; 
Tousled sheets of a night long spent
Didn’t rumple in voluptuous folds;
Words shot like an arrow hit their mark
A bull’s eye, never missed;
Wine didn’t swirl, dancers didn’t twirl, 
His arms didn’t entwine in them mine. 
A flavour didn’t explode, an hour didn’t go round,
The lines go on and so do we, 
But every now and then,
There comes a need to bend,
An urge to swerve, 
A wish to deviate.
And so the pencil slips,
Off the slim plastic,
Thin black specks all intact;
And so the words trail off,
Zigzagging across planes of parallels;
Love runs mad across contours,
Sketching wild knots on the dermis;
-Waiting in queue but the till shuts,
Waves lap in concentric circles-
The good thing about lines is that
Where one ends, another begins. 

Intolerance

   From the womb I sprung forth in a storm unrelenting
waves crashing ashore, endless bending and blending
alone and defenseless to weather the tempest
the gales blew relentless, clouding my senses

  Set adrift in that sea of the knowledge of man
attempting to stand, felt around with bare hands  
plunged deep in the waters, searching for others
consciousness faltered, eyes closing shutters

  Then I had awakened to find I'd been taken
to an archaic dwelling, time should have forsaken
a shaman commands- a glorious rant
a clasping of palms, an aggregate chant

  From what source? I did wonder, descending to ponder
was ultimate wisdom derived and contrived
upon examination, and deep contemplation
I viewed this creation, with grim consternation

  An anomaly present in each generation
a wise person born, elevated, and stationed
to higher position, with God given vision
Innate intuition brings truth to fruition

 Mankind in collective, this most stubborn creature
materialism his central shared feature
twisting to suit them to there situations
killing the prophets- forging the nations

  Undertows from life's currents did violently grab me
envelop and drag me, develop, distract me
manifesting unsettling neural connections
truth became slippery- changing directions

  Somewhere through the ages our paths had diverged
 wise words been perverted, and hatred emerged
 devouring souls, then swallowing whole
 foundations of kingdoms, rendering null


Tao Calendar

Where did we come from?
asked winter, of gratitude.

Who and what are we becoming and belonging
rehabilitating and repurposing and redeeming?
asked spring, of hope.

Where are we flying apart,
or together?
asked summer, of faith.

How did we get here, again?
asks fall, with incarnating grace,
winnowing harvest's rehabilitated outcomes,
regenerative, redeem-and-balance, 
repurposing economic mindfulness.

Each life, 
and all life, 
our synergetic ReGenesis Project. 

How are yours coming along?

4 LIFE OR DEATH

We were born to die
Before life, we were in existence
We shall be in existence
Death  doesn't take that away
It only kills the physical form
We left spiritually, with our soul
keep it at heart
For we don't belong to anything or anyone
We were created by a Supreme Being
And Him only will I give thanks to
Before my rest,take me the way
You brought me
Before my time, let me live
The life You gave me
I show gratitude to You for my life
And appreciation as I take a bow and rest
Written by: jm jm  Send Soup Mail  
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green

I will scrub this grubby grime away from my tarnished skin until i am green once again
I have been left burnt and i have this lingering bad breath from my rotten mouth permanent like the ink from a pen
Still, i keep on scrubbing and scrubbing like a madwoman until i am left with nothing but nubs for fingers
I have been doing this all winter and the horrors of my past won't go away instead every memory just lingers
I remember taking the last sips of water from my dusty canteen
I remember when i still had hopes for a fresh surplus of roses and lilacs laid upon nothing but green
I am ashamed that i was a fool
And since i cannot escape my past i will drown myself in a green paint filled pool
I love imagining myself green and if i am ever to emerge i will cry tears of happiness because there is no better hue
I will weep wet tears like dew
I wish to be green just as once as before
Yet, this green color I took for granted once I can never restore

Unquenchable Thirst

Bent on discovering the truth
Stuck on igniting the flame
Restarting the stunted growth
All these things I want to know
To experience the old as new
Plot this pilgrimage as if it my own
It is, who is to say it is not?
Discover as if I were the first
I am the boy with the unquenchable thirst
Eager to start this tidal wave adventure
Anxious to stop the things I won't remember
From now on all I do
Will command to occupy my mind
And in turn subconsciously 
Leave the past behind

Another Cold Night

Another arctic night, I can't sleep, my body is aching and the icy 
air blankets my skin.  My hands and feet taking the brunt of the 
bitter snap, there just a little more exposed to the severe lashes 
of the inclement whip;  A prisoner of isolation incarcerated in 
the chambers of a tortured mind, confined to a vicious cycle
of hopes and regrets; taunted by loneliness, a cruel warden 
that governs my mind ...  An eerie feeling often overshadows 
me, strange noises in the night, I'd be more curious, but better
judgement weighs on the side of caution, so I hardly ever look
up;  I was always afraid of the dark (...) Lying here, constantly
turning on either side, I just can't seem to be at ease, the cold
air feels like it cuts right through my skin.  Sleeping rough on
the streets in winter perishing with cold is unbearable to say 
the least, it never gets any easier you never forget nights like
these, but somehow I endure. Just can't seem to think of much
else on this harsh gelid night, except that for, thoughts of a
warm meal and a roof over my head, but for now, I wish my
stomach would stop rumbling.  If I could only forget for a 
moment of how hungry I am I probably could rest, but, I 
can only lay hear in hope and wait for the morning should 
the night not take me, and if so I shall greet the morn with
a renewed hope of a chance of a better tomorrow a chance 
to make my life a new.  However,  I face yet another day
the challenge  of raising  to my feet, I know I can do it, I
just need a little help.  Perhaps tomorrow will be that
day, the day that kindness finds me reaches out and
extends a helping hand, so that I may be lifted up
and once again stand on my own two feet.
 
(Inner Monologue Of  A Homeless Man) 

PLEASE! REACH OUT TO THE HOMELESS.

(Another Cold Night) A poem written in the hope to help create 
awareness of the terrible plight of the homeless, so as to with 
great hope help further highlight their cause! Another Cold Night,
is an imaginary dramatization loosely based on real life events.

Fall apart

I desperately want to fall apart
Yet something keeps me going
And the role of a martyring heart
Is not something I wanted knowing.

To me you opened up infinity of topics,
The bowl of pleasure you filled up.
I didn't want to but turned out to be myopic
And fail to explain what's in my cup.

Pure sensations of both a soar and a loss,
I fell into this long and dear dream.
The settlement is due when I wake up, my boss
Is yet again my heart, that's what I mean.

Self identity, anxiety, fairy tales,
Regret, creativity, content, euphoria of being,
You are undoubtedly the best of males!
Self worth and peace within for the time being.

Accepting me for what I am is priceless
Yet why without you it's oh so hard?
I know the power of my mind is limitless
Yet oftentimes I feel as if a retard.

I want to walk the street of life
With loving self, content and passion.
So why the dark? The damp? And knife
Of pain is choking me? My skin is ashen.

The pain abates and then intensifies again,
It'd be so nice to cry. No tears. Thievery.
Now tell me how do I go on? "Do not depend!"
It'd be too easy. But there comes another reverie... 

Your face, your hands, your voice and skin,
They glow in my imagination.
We can't be a couple. We're too akin.
My brain and soul got inflammation.

I put back on full suit of armor.
I stand, I faint, try to fight the nausea
Perhaps it does not at all exist, this harbor...
Sweet pain. And I am left with my insomnia.

My dear torturer, if you are toxic,
I would for sure intoxicate myself again.
I'm oh so craving your sweet toxin. 
It blurs and stirs my body up with pain. 

This crazy lassitude I crave and cannot bear,
It's agonizing and therefore a bliss. 
Evolution's problems land on my shoulders with despair
I search for answers - yet another miss. 

I smear my life again with painful failures,
I ache but strive inside for burning ingle.
My needs and pain are elaborately tailored.
Yes I am absolutely mad for emotional tingle.

beauty

beauty isn't about having a pretty face
it's about having a pretty mind,
a pretty heart,
and a pretty soul.

The Snow Storm

It was all white away and around,
yet, a path through it, I found.
my jacket shielded me from cold,
and, shoes gave a crushing sound.
was I an explorer at the north pole,
or walking on snow puffs under my sole ?

Leaf

Each bud, a promise.
Not struggling for life. Look!
A secret unfolds.


 1