Around the corner (20141010)
What’s around the corner?
What’s just beyond our view,
For the soldier and the foreigner,
What’s ahead for me and you?
Two terribly tired turtles
Which wearily weathered wars,
Survived cyclical separations,
Regretfully raised rebellious rascals.
Seemingly securely safe-shelled,
Ironically intently imagining inside
Future failures, follies, fallouts
Won’t waste, wreck, wipe-out their world.
Keeping cool. Keeping calm. Keep continuing!
Blindly burroughing. Blindly blustering, believing
Learning lingers, life lingers, love lingers.
For the soldier and the foreigner,
What’s ahead for me and you?
What’s around the corner?
What’s just beyond our view?
Poem by: Mr. Ronald Watson
Sep. 13, 2012
My Poetry on PoetrySoup
Stinking thinking/ it leads to drinking./
What moisten the soul without an inkling?/
Unto making a wild left turn /while the right signal light were blinking./
Within a mild mix of rice, hops, and barley,
Since/ it is too much laugher at a karaoke party./
How Elvis sounds like,/ a broken Bob Marley?/
Now it’s as if,/ inhibitions are lowed/
Frozen in time/ and slipping far out of control./
As intuitions of minds does loathe,/ as such weariness echoes for tomorrow./
Yet,/ a stinking breath that smells just as death/ and it's where all funky asses dwells./
Though/ all hung over /and unjustified to flinging heavy heads into that porcelain king,/
Even this is a sight for red sore eyed Kings!/
It is an aftermath of ravishing through them royal purple cloth bags./
So/ afraid to admit that shallowness slowly drags!/
When,a sense of clarity which will just admit it.
That stinking thinking is difficult to kick, but
One day at a time, it is the only way to shine, or get fixed.
Thank youMy Poetry on PoetrySoup
Berty Beaver, he was quiet
He never said too much
Yet Molly, Berty’s little wife
She mouthed off just a touch
She’d always threw her weight around
And poor old Tiny Tim
He got a slap most every day
And times his days felt grim
Molly, well she was his mum
And though she loved him so
She always had to nag someone
And give them a cuff or blow
Tim became a poor young man
And shrunk from every one
And as the bully’s hung around
More evil did get done
His mum she says ‘now that’s not on
They don’t do this to my son!’
And she goes running to the school
Oh, she’s an angry one
She glares the teacher up and down
And lets her know who’s boss
Teachers try hard to placate her
Though, they only suffer loss.
Then Tiny Tim, comes running in
And says right to his mum
[Frustration snatching fear away
No more his mouth hangs numb]
‘Look Mum, at what you always do!!!’
He says with voice stern
‘If you’re a bully too, then how
Will us kids ever learn.
28 June 2013 @ 1727hrs.
War has come , war has come,
My home once a gem of beauty , to fires and rage it succumbed,
Powerless i watched , the desolation of man
How evil overwhelms and greed robs one of all sense
Day by Day loved ones fell,
Till our lives became nothing short of hell,
I prayed in silence fearing my inevitable doom,
For the grim reaper lays in wait ,
Thus i have resigned to my fate..
The morning sun arrived,
With the heavens granting me another day,
The screams have gone silent , with no presence of tyranny,
I run through the village searching for a sign of hope,
Till my legs grew weary and my vision grew dim,
I muster what strength i have,
Refusing to become a victim of fate,
Footsteps i hear , approaching fast,
Men with weapons with black souls drenched in hate,
As i look into the eyes of my executioner ,
with the certainty of death,
memories of my life flash , as i take my last breath,
War has come , War has come
There is no other
as loving as a brother.
I seek admiration
like a promotion
to find me smothered
in an instant, my lover
of life seemed in motion
as a song like a lotion
to put on your hands, another
love line I write, my mother
would want to hear this commotion
or, not so much to give out this information.
The rain is extremely cold, above better
days. Just be here for me, as my admirer
Nature's gone insane;
Cannibal cadavers creep.
Things has change,
Our world is coming to an end.
On our destiny,
The wicked now sit.
An our hope is gone.
Our laughter, has been wiped
Away by our sorrows,
And we fear for our own shadows.
Upon our land,
Bloods are shed.
On our land the innocent crouch
Their tooth with pain for revenge.
Whiles we moan our dead,
Our food and drinks are taken
And our daughters in which
The pride of our nation are
Restored on are sexually used by them
In the name of celebrating our defeated.
we pray, cry, whiles they laugh
And mock us not noticing,
That our is hearing us.
Our men has been killed,
And we fear for what will happen tomorrow
Our heart are heavy,
And we are restless.
We see but now blind
For the tears of pain has make us blind
We are helpless,
And we need help.
We are weak
And we need strength.
seeps from swollen eyes,
and severed sobs
stab into the surrounding
I'm suffocating in a sea
struggling to stay
afloat but I'm
Somebody save me
before it swallows
I think I'm in love
Blahh am i really?
How could i be so certain
i've been "in love" twice before
how do i know he is "the one"
Love is artificial
unknown five fingers flipping lives
power based dynamic undermines the dramatic
twist the totalitarian love like lashed fragments
bastard basilisk coiled coolly over calming masks
The hybrid eyes close on hatred
Unveil the universal welcoming smile
Happy's perfect when expecting a party
Happy's perfect when expecting a life
Hate the child
Hate the child
Hate the child
Show it love
ensure enraptured trust and warming embrace
unannounced resurgence of relief and trust
tame the tether and tighten the ropes
warning clouds wane and the day shines
The hybrid eyes close on lust
Unveil the welcoming smile
Happy's perfect when expecting norms
Happy's perfect when expecting trust
Show it love
Hate the child
Hate the child
Show it child
Hate the love
Hate the show
Love the show
Show the child
The red rose declines in the cruelty of time
gentle sunsets fade in the midst
from barely lonely skies,
silver streams die.
What of those days of sweet bliss
the tunes of a symphonic kiss
my soul miss,
and orbs of light are close
in search of emerald nights
the stalks of white ghosts
creeping softly upon shades of grey
the touch of deadly strokes.
Visions of slanted monsoons,
and flawless white pearl moons
hanging above the tides
those opalescent hues of fire.
Fall flaming chariots of deliverance
oceans a glint
in gloaming of earth's tint.
The mystery of the quiet still
shards of glass scattered
across the twilight atmosphere
diamond coated tears.
Sublime, jet stream geyzers
and star night gazers
infuse scientific minds
like eagles soar high.
The beautiful water lily flower,
the Japanese iris,
red bark cypress
there traced divine knowledge.
The minerals of the soil,
and treasures of spoil
the naked eye, though it be
finite will see.
Yet seasons come swiftly
Autumn, Summer, Fall, and Spring,
but still the red rose declines
in the cruelty of time.
I fear, I will not be enough for that world outside,
I will not measure up to that who they expect me to be, want me to be.
I fear the one I breathe… the one I see, will only see another.
I fear for these faults I have, these weaknesses… those flaws.
Who will cherish, who will want… those flaws I have?
I fear, for my weigh on a machine...
It says repellent, it says obese
I fear, for my length on scale…
It says unattractive, it says midget
I fear the night, how I prefer the light instead, the bright instead
Those owls and rats and bats; those foul creatures of the night.
I fear the world, will misunderstand these thoughts I have
Misinterpret these ideas I have.
I fear the world will not appreciate;
Those hours on the mirror, those rivers I sweat.
I fear I shall not attain those goals I have, those dreams I dream
My enemies will prosper, while misery and despair are paired with me
I fear they will change my parts… make me into a thing with no heart
A thing with no face… and look down on my race!
I fear the questions I have, the doubts I have
But more than ore, I fear I shall die before I live,
I fear I shall not live till I die!
It weren’t too many years ago
I worked on the building site
The work was hard, but pay was good
And it suited me just right
I knew this bloke who worked with me
Little George it was his name
He was short, built like a bull
And Lord that boy was game.
Now he was Maori, through and through
And he hated Islanders
So one day we were in the pub
And someone George did stir
They called him a ruddy Islander
And he wasn’t taking that
And boy, that man could really fight
Just like a jungle cat.
There was six of them and one of George
And folk thought him insane
To take on all those blokes at once
But I could not refrain
From betting on that Georgie boy
Because I knew him from old
It only took our boy five minutes
To knock four of them cold.
Then I saw the other two
They were running down the street
Regretting it with all their hearts
That Georgie they did meet
I guess those guys will shrink in future
From picking a Maori man
There’s not too many that can fight
Just like a Maori can.
5 August 2013 @ 1545hrs.
He swifts on by like a moon lighted night.
He shines bright for a moment in time.
His arm's always open with warmth.
His smile always bigger then everyone elses.
His heart of rage and fire.
He swifts on by, he swifts on by.
Who will know the true man within.
The man thats full of sin.
No one can, no one can, for we are all just man...
Each day I cry, you may not know,
One day I'm high, the other I'm low,
But willing to become a star,
The walk of hurt wins; leaving a scar.
As the body falls apart,
I stay alive with the pump of my heart,
Voices speak but I cannot see,
Reality sinking in; and worse it will be.
Fragile touch to minds with death,
Lingering on with my strength; my breath.
I take this walk with few around,
The morning brings false hope, false sound.
Brown eyes may be a beauty,
But looking in the mirror, each days a duty.
Stepping stones while faces shrink,
Dialing each number, each link.
I will be close for family is near,
Disease itself gives each though a new fear.
Crackling down few paths I can now choose,
Although, I help out those with less to lose.
Truth is we all have low points,
Reaching to keep our body working; each joints.
Crumble the pieces,
Iron out the creases.
I may be close to womething unreal,
I may seem happy; next to my bed I'll kneel,
Letting God know this is enough,
Not understanding why my path is rough.
People start to come and go,
They each have sympathy;but don't really know,
I keep my head up-but lupus eats away,
Making it hard to push reality at play.
I'm far from this world, but live in it,
Lightening flashes; rooms dark; I sit,
Crashing into the night,
I lay my head to rest; with dreams of sight.
They say when life throws you lemons, make lemonade. Well the niggas i know work and its not honest, but it pays the bills in the words of badu because she gone tell you the truth and ima give you the scoop on a livin troop who got the boot because he didnt wana shoot a dude in the same resemblence as hisself but he still work, its not honest, but it pays "his" bills. -Afro_Kira
I live in a place striving for sobriety surrounded in alcohol looking for happiness trapped among our very own sadness. I hear my people’s laughs and I hear my people’s cries, but most of all I see their dreams because their dreams are my dreams because we remain not against each other today as enemies but hidden friends united through culture, language and blood. I laugh with my people and of course I cry with my people and I fight with my people but most of all I continue to dream with my people. I know who I am and where I am from to know where I been to still hope to where I am going to go. I feel darkness engulf not only myself but also almost my entire reservation’s race, no matter mixed or not because soon our culture and language will have no face without any more light to shine upon it. I know where I lived and still live to know if I will truly go where I truly want to go in life before I have my one walk with death. I know by a long shot that I am not the best but by a close hit on the reservation’s target I could be better.
I take a stand against self to stand against others to better a worsening crowd of many young lost indigenous souls waiting to be unknowingly found and waiting for something similar to what I’m about to write. I take a stand for self so that others know that we aren’t all lost and we can and will be found with the true hope of no one’s but your own. I take a stand because my brothers and sisters wont, I take a stand because now days most the people around me or within me can’t or don’t know how, I take a stand for the children who don’t have a father and mother as I once had, I take a stand for my unborn child almost here, I take a stand for courage because within me is filled with fear, I take a stand against because the alcohol and drugs within me now I just can’t stand, I take a stand for those around me who cannot stand, I take a stand for a culture dying on its knee’s trying to get back up, I take a stand for the forsaken yet to be forgiven self-stand.
I patiently wait, lying away in the darkness searching for light even though I can see the light I just don’t know how to get on thy path to the light. I am not alone, I know for a fact that I am not alone in my thoughts and feelings about life on earth here. I can see our pain, I can hear the hollers and screams, I can feel your anguish and I can smell our destruction. I walk through the reservation valley of darkness as if I am but a blind witness to our own destruction upon where many of us go unknown truly forever in depths of time, in the depths of death.
I know that I cannot give in or give up on a dream of a people’s dream where the buffalo in our young hearts and minds may roam around free and where the wolf warrior chief may rise above all odds and become thy greatest modern day warrior, the people seek him, the people crave him, the people need him, the people need someone to rise if not geographically the worldwide mentally.
The thought of death can bring me fear,
The thought of her will bring a tear.
Real as the person sitting next to you,
Growing old but starting young and new,
The world revolves around a thought,
Of money and fame; until your body starts to rot.
Then the world becomes a blur to one,
Seeing the light; seeing which of your ways were right.
Left-right-side to side,
We take on this journey; this ride.
To find answers and truth in the lines,
Looking back at the life liven; and where your heart shines.
So as you read this you have a chance,
To look at your own story; just take the glance,
Because one soul can change its ways,
One mind can make new plays.
Pulling each memory back like a book,
Small eyes squinting to take a close look,
Who are you when no ones there,
Who are you when others stare?
Questions to be asked when death is talked about,
Voices in your head began to shout,
What is life, what is my reason,
Each year passes by; each month; each season,
My body grows older but my heart stays clear
Understanding to over come death as a fear.
As this poem is about to end,
Hold out your hand for a friend,
Pull close and know that life is precious;real talk,
Pull close and know that you walk your own walk,
The outsiders and can talk about past and the ups and downs,
But their kind of like the funny people on the side; the clowns.
So head up ; feet low,
Arms strong; to get through the tough; now row,
Don't give up just be yourself,
Like putting the old toy upon the shelf,
Become the star that's bright and known,
Become the star that you know can be shown.
On this pavement walking in the cold,dark night.. In my mind theres a man edging on a fight, but when I come back to life its just a battle withen myself..... As I walk on this pavement everyday and night, thinking theres a man edging on a fight...
I was born in Babylon
Everyday I want to be alone
I prayed not to get low
Everyday Babylon claim more soul
I just have to go, seek for more show
I grow with no shoes under my foots
Ganger is my food,
Mosquitoes sing the reggae allover my room
Webs block my views, killing my crews
What can I do to survive when am buzz
Where is that place to get crazy?
That place you cannot erase,
That camp with more space,
Where you don’t have to get late
That place where you just want to be free from
“Babylon” Babylon” Babylon…I want to be free
If there is a question, it should be about relation
My action will generate your reaction
Is substitution the way to be free from Babylon?
The game is always ON, grow horns like Capricorn
Cut the vegetables; let’s be able to be stable
Shadow-stalking, skulking scourge
Deadly demons divide, diverge
Boiling, bubbling, broken brine
Making muddy my morbid mind
You Will Never Know
How much you meant to me, That why it hurt so much when I
said I was leaving you I couldn't
shed a tear showing my weak side to the one I cared for the
most pain me so much. You won't ever
know cause for me showing those feelings is like showing
my heart to the world. I can't explain why
you won' ever hear me say sorry or how you won't know
my explanation. I will miss you until the end
of time and hope you miss me too. No more I can't handle it
not never letting you know what it meant
when I said good bye.Please forgive me and keep me in your
mind and you will be in my heart. Though
you will never know how much you meant to me.
THE BEST CIGARETTE
In a darker part of morning,
or a lighter shade of night,
with his paying for hereafter,
to be rid of all his blight,
was a lunetic in waiting,
she was something of a tease,
she would spread her legs at dropping
of a man onto his knees.
Never faking her orgasim,
she would always let him know,
she could sense about his coming,
and was first to let it go.
With the sweating of her body
and the beating of her time,
she would take him to hereafter,
but to stay would be a crime.
In a little bit of wiping.
if he paid a little more,
she'd remind him of the reason
he'd come back again for more.
But the best part of hereafter,
in his smoking just a bit,
wasn't part of what he paid for,
so he left forgetting it.