knock knock knock
on my front door
i get up to look
it's lonliness at the door
but quite and still
i would not let
lonliness in so peacefull i slept
and with the knocks once more
but i kept my temper
and evened the score
inside i sat quietly
wishing he'd go away
but he yelled from outside
he had something to say
i said "go away"
and i put a record on
something moving and grooving
i played it all day long
but when evening came
i put on a sweater
and decided to play
something much better
something with lyrics
that are very gentile
something with words
that don't dare remind
of terrible incidences
recently left behind
constantly reminding me
it should be a crime!
it should be a crime!!
it should be a crime!!!
anger was present
he had a key
i was glad to see him
and he was glad to see me
though being out side
made his presence known
in certian shadows
in certian rooms
"have a drink"
and handed me a bottle
"listen up. i know how to fix that flirt.
slap her in the face.
rub her name in the dirt!"
and with this
my imagination ran wild
drink after drink
we talked a while
but i remembered myself
this wasn't my style
and once again lonliness
knocked at the door
i let him in and fell
crying to the floor
why, oh why must you visit
he said "to try to give you wisdom
where you broke down before.
to try to give you knowledge
before you go through the door.
to try to make you stronger,
if you should do it again.
and to always let you know
that i am your constant friend.
i am with you in your solitude
i am with you while you sit
surrounded by friends.
i scream my name LONLINESS!
in your ears very loud.
never forget my power
or giving me my hours."
and with that
he sat his fat ass down
Suddenly a very soft and familiar voice spoke to her conscious saying “Lovely”
“Yes” she replied
“Tomorrow you are coming back home”
“OK” she said breathing heavily
The conversation ended right at that instant
Seven minutes later the unpredictable happens and Lovely dropped into a short comma.
A new day arrives.
Ding dong, ding dong, sounds the door-bell
Lovely wakes up; open the golden windows the sun is raising
Knock, knock someone is at the golden door
She didn’t know what was going on this time
She walks all the way to the door not noticing that her house was made out of the finest
marble, and the finest gold that ever existed.
Lovely answers the door thinking is the mail man with the missing letter.
When she finally opens the door instead of the mail man was her husband with open arms and
a smile on his face.
Saying “welcome home baby” “I had been waiting for you”
WE ALL GOING TO A BETTER PLACE SOMEDAY. OUR REAL HOME.
Ding dong, ding dong, sounds the door-bell
She wakes up; open her window the sun is raising
Knock, knock, some one is at the door
She rushes to the door thinking is the mailman
She is expecting a love letter from Iraq
She finally answer the door but stead of the mail man is an officer from the army, he is
well dress and carries a small box with him and inside of the box is an American flag with
three different medals.
One medal is for being a soldier of the US Army, the second medal is for being a national
hero, and the third one, is a medal of honor for dying for his country.
She goes crazy crying out for help, screaming all out that she was expecting a baby.
“I’m really sorry” the officer says
“If there anything I could do please call me” he reached his wallet and pulled out a
business card and gave it to her.
“He was a brave man” he said
The officer turned around and left the house with out hesitation.
Poor girl was drowning in her own tears; she still didn’t believe what just happen
“Lord please help me”, “help me go through this horrible pain” she cries out.
She goes back to the bed and tries to sleep it off, but it didn’t work out, the pain was
too much just to act like nothing didn’t happen.
She finally falls as sleep after several hours of crying painfully.
She tosses and turns all night long, sweating like crazy with massive pain on her chest
While she was having a horrible nightmare; dreaming about the death of her husband-
When I first saw her
She was only a few hours old
Instinctively kicking her long legs
I knew then
To an old drawer
Of crumpled notepaper
Taking me back
To a time when
Her hair was brownish gold
Took baths in a yellow tub
Cradled in the kitchen sink
When her mother
Worked on weekends.
When she was seven or eight
I would read to her
While she played
With her dolls
To look up at me
With her big brown eyes
One night she asked
Daddy do I have any friends?
I told her she had many friends
Imaginary friends too
Like Ooh Poo Poo Doo
Who would always be with her
That’s a strange name Daddy, she said
Brushing the hair
From her eyes
It’s not the name or how you say it
It’s the friend that counts.
One Spring day
She came back home
Her friends crowded the living room
As my wife and I left
Remebering the words
It’s not the name or how you say it
It’s the friend that counts.
Kept in her heart.
Oh well I got an angry email to begin my day
Because of my last post on the Jabidah thing yesterday
Galit sa akin but greeted me with Assalamu alaykum.
And kung personal Moro friends ko naman ito
They know I don't criticize Moro leaders
I always leave that to them to criticize their leaders
According to my friends baka nasa gubyerno or something
Next time I'll write na lang about the sea and the palm trees and the beaches
Pray and pray nalang para walang provocation
ako nga ang daming nag-message sa akin nagalit sa issue ng Sabah standoff
Ikaw pa kaya na wala namanng masama na sinabi dun
Alam mo ‘buti na lang you verbalized that kasi iniisip ko rin ‘yun
I know you have reasons and you know better kaya; I just read your posts
I don’t have to go against parties kasi both have rights
And the issue must be solved
Wala, kasi sa akin kundi independence lamang ang kailangan
May ganyan din kasing realities?
Minsan you are being asked or expected to take sides
Yes, my side is peace – with peace is independence
Yes, I heard that sa dating Jabidah Massacre celebration
Somebody said that, “Walang kapayapaan kasi walang kalayaan”
And that is very universal, kapatid.
Moro or non-Moro and writing should always geared towards humanity
That’s why for me it “anti-humanity” if you will not listen
Or suppress when somebody will talk about freedom.
That’s the problem with Filipinos, they don't listen.
Kasi the leaders may sarili ring interests.
How do you see being Filipino?
Ako, it's a cage, Filipino nationalism
Agenda ng mga oligarchs and landowners
Filipino nationalism is violence against Muslims and lumads
Kasi ‘pag ako ang tatanunginmo I will never say I am Filipino
Because Tausug it’s not a name but an identity...
I understand but kaunti na lang kayo
Ako sasabihin ko na I am a Filipino but I have reservations
When I was a teenager hindi ako tumatayo ‘pag Lupang Hinirang
ngayon tumatayo na kasi napapaaway ang mga kasama ko sa sinehan
Yes and identity should be critically assessed and examined.
Kaya if they say Filipino ang mga Tausug masakit sa aking loob
But not all, kapatid. try mo pumunta sa Manila
Yung mga Moro na malalapit sa mga institusyon ng Pilipinas
Bakit iba ang Moro at ibang ang Tausug
kaya sila naging Moro at masaya na tawaging Moro
May identity na naiiba sa Filipino
Pinag-aaralan ko rin yan and ino-observe ‘yung pag-yield sa 'Filipino'
‘Will give Filipinos a disservice
Because it is tantamount to be an accomplice to a corrupt system
And this system is the one that oppresses Muslims
At alam natin ang Tausug di lamang taga-Sulu
Pati Bisayan, Tausug din
As much as possible I am trying to make my writings 'away'
Away from Filipino nationalism
That's the right way for me and my writing
I will ask first, “How it is to be human?”
At super last na ang, “How to be a Filipino”
And the Bangsamoro struggle is the greatest critique to the violence
And failures of Filipino nationalism
Ang problema kasi kaya di successful ang Bangsamoro struggle
Dahil nagdadala sila ng pangalan na di naman originally sa kanila
How come ang pangalan ko ay Abdul sa rights
Gagamitn ko ang Juan para sa aking bayan?
Kaya war of ideas ito and alam mo naman sa akin, ‘pag ideas
And perspectives walang kompromiso and peace talks
I do not compromise my language, my craft and myself, my writing
Filipino is an imagined nation, as well as Bangsamoro
Bakit di natin magamit ang orignal nation natin
Na based sa Sulu archipelago and Mindanao
Yes, actually diyan ako papunta - papunta
Bakit hindi i-Bangsamoro-ized ang buong Filipinas?
It doesn’t mean na i-convert ang Pilipinas
But the spirit, the struggle it should mean something to Filipinos
It should kasi ang dami na nagbuwis ng buhay
Kaya ko pa na tanggapin kung Maharlika
‘Yan ang gusto kong ma-achieve: Filipinos should listen to Moros
Siyempre marami pang madidiscover along the way
Indeed. Ikaw ba ‘pag sasabahin ko na ‘Tausug’ ano ang maiisip mo?
Tausug is Moro and Moro for me is something that predates 'Filipino'
But now, I would like to know the concept of “Lupah Sug”
I want to know it, I think there are more and beyond Moro on it
Before ‘Moro’ was named to Mindanao and Sulu people
It was first name to Aceh people, Melaka, Brunei and then Manila
Sulu and Mindanao were the last places to have been called the name ‘Moro’
Sulu archipelago was united under the name Sulu archipelago
The name of people is Tausug.
Tausug is composed of different ethnics:
Arab, Banjar, Dampuan, Buranun etcetera.
The concept of Sulu as part of dar al islam
Is already a nation and state
Where the government is the people and itself headed by sultan or raja
Yes, and I would like to feel this from the ordinary Tausugs when I get there
I would like to experience this from ordinary Tausug and on from place itself.
In the hinterland of Jolo, their laws still on the ground not of Philippine law
I believe in narratives
I want to hear and feel this from the place and from the people.
And then capture it; I have these thoughts
That Lupah Sug has something that the Moro concept does not have
And it’s a bit metaphysical but sige lang.
I know my craft can capture it.
I think there is a language that can capture it
And specific craft that can carry its soul
Not fictionalize but put it in a form like a novel or a narrative
Which have their own logic and truths as crafts.
This poem is made after the conversation and sharing with Filipino writer Rogelio Braga who also serves as the editor of the poem. He is currently in Mindanao, travelling and writing; he will then proceed to Sulu Archipelago soon. 2:28PM, 19 March 2013, Facebook Chat across Sulu Sea!
“I’m the unknown gardener my name is mentioned in the bible, but no one need honor me.
Just a pauper, I was in the garden that day, but my only contribution to grace works was filthy
Hearing a rumbling it seemed from deep inside the ground, I looked toward a tomb which had a
huge stone place over it’s mouth. As I looked I saw a steady lighting flashing, so bright it
dimmed my sight, emitting from the tomb around the rock’s edges.
The lighting stopped as suddenly as it had began, as once more I heard a scrubbing noise and
saw two celestial beings in shining apparel, as they rolled the huge stone away from the mouth
of the sepulcher. I was amazed, made weak in the knees, my countenance was overcome.
One of the celestial being said, “Fear not I am Michael, the archangel, I came to attend the
Master. This day thou also hath somewhat to offer unto him.” I wondered, amazed within myself
as I pondered in my feeble mind, ‘What on earth could a meager pauper have of worth to
A beautiful being stepped forth from the tomb, such the like I have never before seen or after!
When he spoke his voice was as the sound of many waters, such as a gently rushing water
fall. He said, “Behold I am the first, and the last, I was alive and was dead, and now I am alive
for evermore. It is finished!”…The two angels, I saw no more.
“Thy name is called Ishmael, born after the flesh, I have heard thy afflictions. This day it
behooves thee to be a signet necessity of my Father’s will, representing all of mankind,
for their righteousness of concepts be as fifty rags. Give unto me thy clothes and I will
cleans them for thy are metaphoric of the fleshly unrighteousness of all humankind.”
I gave him my clothes and I understood not, but I felt amazingly clean. He clothed
himself with my clothes and said, “Remember this day, for flesh will prophesy this truth in the
last days. In an inspirational writing that I will give thee utterance to write. You will entitle
it, ‘The Unknown Gardener’ then you will understand the signet!”
With this, He vanished from my presence. This same day has became know as Easter morning, the day of resurrection.
And the fleshly concepts of sin as the casting off of filthy rags! My natural senses returned and I arose from the vision.
I was astonished for seven days. At the end of which I wrote the understanding of the vision. This is what Easter means to me!
For and in Honor of Gwendolen Rix
And Contest: What Easter Means to me!
Scene 3 - Easy Rest Adult Care Fascillity - Harry's Room
"Do you know this Young man; Harry?" Yes his name is Kenny. "Where did you meet him?" We went to School Together. "What was the name of the School?" It was umm, I don't recall. " You see Mr. Potter he can't place Faces to his past. He may recognize your face but does not know Why or where. Let's go down to the office now, You can sign the intake papers. "NO no! Chef who won the World Series in 2004??" " World Series that's Baseball right, I should know this, was it the Yankees or the Cardinals??" Mr. Potter you told me yourself ; if he doesn't remember the 2004 World Series then he should be committed" " Chef please Think: surely You haven't forgotten "Ma Rock, Barbara Jean, Liz, or YOUR LIFE, Your Existence, Your FOREVER, Your Wife LENORE"
Tick-Tock, Tick-Tock Time stands still for no one, but memories of Time, are never buried
"Ma Rock, finally a Mother that LOVED Me. Barbara Jean Gorelick, the Woman that Holds my Heart, the POETESS that healed my Broken Heart, Liz, my best student in 12 + years
of teaching, She died in a car accident 2 months before Graduation. LENORE my Most Only beLOVEd, soon we shall join as ONE with our GOD. Dr. Mendelsohnn I'm going Home Where I can be With All I LOVE"
All you Souper know me as Jack
But in reality, my real name is Charles
I will try to explain this seemingly strangel turn of events
I was the last of ten children in our family
The first nine offsprings were girls
And then came a BOY... li'l ole me!
Well the word quickly got around our small town
The Ellison girls have a baby brother, WOO HOO!
Word also got around that all nine sisters and my Mum
Agreed “Jack Norman Ellison” was to be my name
However, on the way to the church for my Christening
My Grandmother changed my Dad's mind at the last minute
And convinced him to christen me Charles Byard
After my Dad's brother who died a hero in the First World War
My sisters were livid with anger
And decided from then on
They'd call me Jack irregardless of what my birth certificate said!
And they did... so now you know the rest of the story
Strange or what???
© Jack Ellison 2014
My dearest Cordellia, I miss you, so I thought I would send you a note
Telling you all that I have been going through and asking you to give me hope
I walk this dark and lonely road carrying all this pain
Wondering, were all these tears I have cried simply cried in vain
Using my heart and not my eyes to navigate the darkness in this place
The only thing that remains clear to me is the memory of your face
I have missed you since you have gone, I have to confront this on my own
Can not put into words this pain I feel it is something I have never known?
If it were not for all the love you poured into my heart
I would have no strength to keep myself from falling apart
You have left this life and have gone to where only the angels are permitted to soar
But the love I have for you has allowed me to open up another door
The love this father has for his daughter has consumed his very heart
And all these memories of you have allowed me to make a brand new start
Daddy’s little hiny, that was my name for you, because of your tiny baby butt
How you use to make me laugh, you were such a little nut
Cordellia Miriam, your name was as unique as you were
A piece of heaven on earth is what you were to me and that is for sure
I never knew that I was capable of feeling a love as strong as the love I felt for you
And now since you are gone I become confused at times for just what I should do
I could gain pleasure for hours just by sitting and watching you play
I would try to understand everything you had to say
So my sweet child I hope you can hear me when I speak to you each night
I hope that you are listening and I hope you understand my fight
This pain and love seem to be tearing each other apart, leaving me as a shell
I pray each night to God in hopes that you are doing well
I miss all the times you would run down the hall just to greet me
You would jump into my arms to give me a hug and tell me how much you missed me
Well my little one Daddy has to go for now but I shall certainly visit with you again
I will talk to you everyday until we shall meet again
By Greg P
We are kenyan superstars,
That is what we are,
Kenya our mother land and pride,
Shines so bright that it cannot fade,
Today we hear,`Kenyan athletes bring home,
Bronze,Silver and Gold,'
Tomorrow,``The Kenya Rugby 7's defeat New zealand again.''
The Maasai culture came up with the Akala sandals,
Which are made out of rubber,
The luhya introduced Bull fighting,
The Kalenjin made `mursik' or fermented milk,
And to name but a few communities,
With their diverse cultures.
I believe that kenyans were born great,
To grow up and achieve greatness.
To become one of the most formidable
Intellects of our time,
Just like the late Mzee Jomo Kenyatta,Dedan Kimathi,
Tom Mboya,Kijana Wamalwa to name but a few,
To change people's reasoning conclusively,
And make them see reality and not building castle's in the air.
Kenyans were born great,
Because greatness was thrust upon them,
To change Africa's impoverished state,
And make it a better place,
For you and for me and the entire human race,
To raise heroes and heroines,
To conquer social evils in the society.
If we were born great,
Let us believe in ourselves,
Be contented with whatever we do in our lives,
Let us love one another, live in unity and work
together as a nation,
Let the past be a stepping stone for us to succeed in future,
And leave the rest, to the Almighty God.
There is a name falls on my ear,
Like an aria, so soft and clear.
It rings with a melodious sound
With vision of maiden quaintly gowned.
I never saw my Grandma Hannah.
She lived far away in Indiana.
I knew her by picture on the wall,
Demurely dressed in gown and shawl.
My daddy spoke so fondly of her,
I wanted so to know and love her.
I was just ten the year she died.
I remember how my daddy cried.
At advanced age of eighty-seven,
The angels took her up to heaven.
In modern age it was deemed absurd.
The name of Hannah was seldom heard.
Like all things old, it was reborn
And early on a frosty morn,
A bundle fell like Heaven's manna
And lo and behold, they named her Hannah.
On my grandma's picture there's a smile.
It's been there now since first the while
I whispered that we had a Hannah
Who would some day go to Indiana
To find the stone that marks the place
Where Hannah of the lovely face
Was left so many years ago,
Before this namesake she could know.
This great, great, great granddaughter who bears her name,
Has dark eyes very much the same
As she in the picure on my wall.
I've met my Hannah after all.
A Rambling Poet's contest "Even a Name Can Be Poetic. took 6th
Impatiently we stand in line, tickets in our hand
At last we are ushered inside, hoping for seats up front
But people push ahead,...so we wiggle into row two
A tall head sits in front of me...............................................oh well, never mind.
Crowds fill the chairs, and chatter fills the air
Small children held up high for better view, mothers hold small bouquets in their laps
Fathers hold Canons or Kodaks, with extra rolls of film
Opening my program...I look for her name
Her name should stand out like neon....brighter than any other! Oh yes! there it is!
But her name is printed like all the rest.................................oh well, never mind.
With a dimming of the lights, the first chord of music meets our ears
The show begins. We clap politely, and watch patiently
It's not yet her turn.............................................................oh well, never mind
Finally we realize her turn is near! Anticipation is building! We sit straighter in our chairs!
We crane our necks a little higher, camera is ready.....YES! THERE SHE IS!!
OUR SHINING LITTLE STAR!!
Oh dear...she misses a step...................................................oh well, never mind.
Her hair touched with sprinkles, her smile is glowing
A little wrinkle of concentration on her brow, ...
Taking care that she makes each move on cue
She is shining, amazing, and wonderful!!
Doesn't everyone see it? How could they miss it? That she stands out from all the rest??!!
We clap madly...why are the others only clapping politely?
Our camera flashes brightly! Why aren't other cameras flashing too??
Could it be that all these folks....all these other mums and dads,
All these other grams and gramps, brothers and sisters, aunts and uncles
Do they see different stars than ours? Perhaps.
Oh well.....never mind. We know those other stars can't possibly, no not possibly
Shine as bright as ours............................................................oh well, never mind.
There's a star in the heavens we'll name, 'Sweet Claire' for you...so don't you ever mind...
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
For Linda Marie's contest..."Shining Star"
Like the disappearing sun of yesterday
So has her childhood dissolved away
With two white steeds that are the trees
She is the leaf, marauder of the breeze
She rides against the wind
Her name is Rain
Born with the grain of knowing
Sight to the blind who cannot see tomorrow
Or view the valleys of the past
Be not envious of her rampant blood!
Where origins are buried in another world
Where voices speak in lost syllables
In a language of no forgetting
Where the laughter of the birds is still
And clouds shed only a torrent of tears
For she would rather turn her face to the sky
And feel the gentleness of the mist
She has a burning desire to be free
Free of the gift
Free of the burden
Free of the knowledge that has taken her innocence
A voice of the thunder calls her
Invites her to fly beyond the clouds
So the earth can be beautiful
Where sun comes after the rain
Where the drought is over at last
Where the rain creates a rainbow
She is the leaf.....maurader of the breeze
Her name is Rain
But they call her Zodiac,....Princess of the sky
It is five minutes to two
I don’t know what to do
It looks like I'm the last person this evening before you close
But can I have another, and possibly a minute to expose
You must get this often you’re really sweet
Cute as a button, to bad I don’t cheat
You see I am procrastinating to get back to my house
I live with a man; no he is not my spouse
Five long years, do you care that I share
Oh hun, watch out a flies in your hair
But seriously, it’s bad; we fight all the time
I haven’t the courage to tell him I am sick of his kind
Do you have a woman? oh you must you’re so cute
So what do you think should I give him the boot?
Oh and work is getting to me, my boss in always on my case
Sir what’s your name again? you have a mighty fine face
Can I get one more? that will be all
Good thing I live down the block in case I trip and fall
Can I give you some advice; you should finish your degree
You don’t belong here at this hour serving me
Last year I went away, when I got back I caught him cheating
I gave this guy one serious beating
Oh look it is raining
Am I complaining?
I know it’s time to move on
But it’s hard when someone is finally gone
Do you work every night?
Could you lower the lights?
I am getting a headache
Last night I went to a wake
It was my Coworkers sons, girlfriends, Aunt,
I am sorry did I just go on a rant?
What are you doing after work?
You must think I am a jerk
OH NO here come the tears!!!
Sir, it’s been so many painful years,
Why can’t I just leave him?
What is wrong with me?
can I get just one more, my glass is empty,
Wait, what are you doing?
Is that coffee I smell brewing?
Are you shutting the bar down?
I see no one is around in this town,
OH no I just dropped the glass on the ground
Boy!!! that made a really loud sound
Let me pick that up
I’ll buy you a new cup
That’s all I seem to do, clean and cook,
I deserve better right? I read it in Dr.Phil's new book,
Sir, where are you going?
Did you tell me your name?
OH I don’t feel well, can I puke in your drain?
Much better, oops sorry, I made a mess
This was a new dress,
Thanks for listening,
Did I tell you you’re cute?
I bet you make a tone of loot
My man has no job
and he wonders why I'm a bitter snob
Ok Im leaving, its late my new friend,
what did you say your name was again?
I want your number, Let me get a pen
Oh no my purse fell all over the floor
Sir Sir, did you just slam the door?
“I am not a sir, I am a Woman, and you need to Go the hell Home!!! ”
This is who I am
My name is Stanislaus J. O’Connor
Born on April 17th in Belfast, Ireland
Youngest of eight children
My father admired the Polish people
The way they fought
During the last Great War
When the odds were against them
Wanted me to be strong
So he named me Stanislaus.
I carried that name
Not without some teasing
Took it in stride
Solidarity came along
Organized by Polish dock workers in the 1980’s
Ended Communist rule
Father remembered stories
When ten thousand dock workers went on strike
Closed Belfast down
Taught the Brits a lesson.
Young, unemployed and drunk
I saw an artist friend of mine
He worked on me all day
Not stopping except to wipe the drippings on my back
I felt no particular pain
Jut laid there flat on my stomach
When it was over
I had the color and imagery
From the tattoo
Of a Polish Cross.
Listened to the people
Took to the streets
In the struggle
Against the Brits
Strangers jumped out of the shadows
Put flashlights to my eyes
Stood me up
Led me out
At HM Prison Maze I was kept in a small cell
Occasionally let out to walk in the prison yard
One summer afternoon
I took off my shirt
Paddy asked me what’s that on your back
Polish Cross I said
Murmur of voices
Fellow inmates hesitated
Someone near the wall broke the silence,
“Let him be. God is in every cross.”
In despair a cell mate said he couldn’t take it anymore
Afraid that he would die in prison
From an old Catholic catechism
“No man can learn what his heart cannot hold“.
I made up the rest
“Tell God what you stand for
And forgive you.”
Ten years later
Dragged from my cell
Feet barely touching ground
I was released on amnesty.
Family met me
Some traveled from faraway
To touch warm hands
Climbed to the top of Cavehill
Glide in lazy circles
Twelve hundred feet above sea level
From its heights
The world can be seen
Across a wind swept ocean of dark memories
Of what once was
His father named him Moses.
Devoid of speech yet blessed.
Doctors said he would live thirty years hereafter.
Buoyant nature and carried a smile always,
With sense of humor lived through derision.
On the day his father passed away
He sat still and hid his tears within.
Not long, few years later
His mother who would voucher him,
Understand the complexity of his heart
Laid on her final resting place,
He sat still and hid his tears within.
Later his bosom friend moved away,
He sat still and hid his tears within.
Enervate and lonely orphan he became,
Dolefully he wept when none would see.
Albeit the great sorrows of his heart,
No trauma ceased him to live mirthfully.
After thirty still he lives.
And walking through the paseo every morning,
They who pass him by with admiration schmoose of a man
Who can’t speak and had great sorrows;
Nonetheless so twinkly he lives on,
Knowing not yet parfay wishful,
when he would wake up one fine morning
And meet his loved ones again on the other side.
So i inhale, and almost choke trying to breathe out, when i realize;
i'm the physical couonterpart of this emotional wreck
I crash into him someway loving the pain we seem to create
Sanity will never define this, the definition is insane
Wanting to let go, only if you will allow me to become what you've made
Whats the extraction of my pain?
Engraved onto my heart the story of the game
Addicted to the plays
An attic of the rules we've made
This blade watched him carve his name into my heart
No explanation as to why his voice pumps blood into my veins
You broke the rules and left the blade
My mind a maze;
Now every corner i turn i see his face or hear his name
Please leave, just let me be
Even now that your gone your in every one of my dreams
How could this be?
This hurts more than any physical pain; i would die for that luxury
Infatuated with his love
Never thought to be a need
My tears a mute witness of my screams
This is the kind of creature that goes out into the night to steal bricks to build its' niche.
It more than crosses a courtesy line. Happens more in the winter;other seasons just fly by.
Swift as the bitter wind the creatures must move as the gypsies do. They must borrow as the thieves pulling out every trick up each sleeve.
Maddened by the stars, they follow them like arrows of direction. Cheaters!
Must be nice having nature direct their worst behavior.
The Harlot Scarlet of the night is so beautiful any family would give away their hard earned bread, their last. Clearly getting robbed impeccably as
it goes without notice. But what is seen is never told in eyes of gold.
Another win for creatures of night.
Disturbed in daily thoughts
Thinking U all the way through
Longing for our old memories to flash.
Impressed by YOUR possessiveness
Also impressing U by my care
Trying to keep U with me alone.
Love which occurred strangely
Caused holding U tightly - when
U said I never leave u forsaken
Intending to make U close – though
Knowing that U’va been stolen by another HEART,
In U I fell in TruE LOVE for the first time.
Pretended to kiss, hug and embrace
Made my mind set to co-operate with UR actions
Made to forget UR first Love.
Chanceless Loving WORDS from UR mouth – which
Guided to share my incompleteness
Thereby aroused a pinch of Lust.
Hardened to control my Emotions
I SURRENDERED myself unto U
Been excited and ejaculated with UR hot touch
Altering my valued hours to spend conversing with U
Never expected such things would happen
Dragging UR presence all where and at all-time in my mind.
Nature’s call of age bonded us elastically
But its not our faults – it’s the situation that made improper future ideas
Still finding the reason – why U’va started avoiding suddenly ?¿
Still finding the reason – for what
Purpose U proposed even though having another girl’s heart in UR mind
Still finding the reason for our New Love
Its now impossible for me to return back to my old attitude
Where have my concentration went?
Where have my devoted feelings went?
Will I get back to it or not?
My mind is not under my control
Please don't see back my love
I don have another Heart to loose.
Daring new courageous behavior in my day-to-day life
U are the only reason beyond many things
My future is (?) with OUT UR hands holded
These are not just a stanzas which can be erased easily~
Its my lovable and unforgettable PERIODS – which
Makes to remember UR name and bitter sweet thoughts
Only few or no one can understand the hidden message in these lines. It is – *!!! THIS REVEALS UR NAME IN
THE BEGINNING OF ALL MY PERIODS !!!*
I’ve learnt how to live my forthcoming days.
Really THANK U love for the creation of certain Best characters in me.
I’ll never forget U till my last breath
May U have a wonderful and peaceful Married Life further.
For the first time I feel reality more strange than imagination
In fact it seems to be a TrUe LOVE of a FALSE Lover. It covers-
All about the PAIN OF MY FIRST & THE FOREMOST LOVE...
A poetic story from Your’S & Only YOURS,
- Hannah (with tears° ° °)
I’d never have guessed the fuss behind names
To the rich and famous, their claim to fame
To some a status of great importance
Some changed by deed poll, classed as a hindrance
Mr, a title and blend of Master
Mrs, feminine can one go faster
Such fuss over names, fill me with laughter
They’ll always be here, before and after.
The girl whispered how gross she’s a stripper she has no pride
Her friend replies I bet when she goes off stage she spreads her legs ever so wide
Look at her she’s such an idiot looking all lost
I bet she’s looking for her first day’s client, pimp, or boss
Oh God why is that whore looking near this door
I silently roar, Would you please not talk about her any more
Yes she’s a stripper but her class surpasses either one of your asses
Yes her job is exotic but your judgment is naively chaotic
Everyone’s not as fortunate as you two and we have to make ends meet
That strippers name is Jane and she’s ever so sweet
So despite your negative comments a stripper she is still to be
But silence for the moment because she’s a charmer and she’s with me
Brick had seen his share of hospitals
and had been to Saint Cecelia's more than once,
on occasion, a perp would get banged up
you know, during an arrest... on occasion!
He was just waiting for the X-Ray results
before he made his way home, but he had
to make a couple of calls after he got kicked loose.
First he had to make a call to Bill Lipton,
one of the suits from the 31st had seen him at the hospital
Now it seems that Bill's Lieutenant was leanin on Bill,
guess his Captain was runnin for some office and was
afraid to have one of his boy's involved in the
Shadow vigilante case, in case it didn't get solved
and tarnish his record, Like I would ever let a case go cold!
The second call, was gunna be to a pretty Blond
by the name of Erika La Plant, an EMT who gave him
her number in the bus on the way to Saint Cecelia's
But first.....Brick! the Doctor said as he entered the ER room
look's like you have a couple of bruised ribs there.
Just keep them wrapped up for a couple of weeks
or so, and you'll be fine, if you take it easy that is,
But I spoke with a Sgt. Lipton when they brought you in
and he said you were kind of stubborn and rough on yourself
so it might take a little longer, try not to get into any more fights!
Ok Doc! You got it! Can I go now? Yes Brick you can go!
here are your discharge orders, and a prescription for something
for the pain, I suggest you get it filled, you'll need it!
within a wink of an eye Brick found a phone and called
the Cowboy, the phone only rang once, Hello Bill Lipton here!
Hey Cowboy, I hoped I'd catch you, think you could come
get me, and give me a lift home, so I can get my car?
I may have a date later! Who would that be with Brick?
oh let me guess! the blondie from the bus , right?
Her name is Erika Billy Boy, and yep, that's the one!
Oh hey! what's this I hear your Boss is up your
keester about our Black clad ole buddy?
You ain't thinkin about pullin a runner on me are ya?
Now just hold on to your suspenders pardner! I ain't
a goin no where's we got us a score to settle with our
ole pal. I'm on my way...Click..the phone went dead.........
We're back in the Samauri Saddle, Watch for Robert Dufresne's reply..
In the distant thunder I can hear the sound of riders drawing near
A gathering storm that will soon hit with great force
The first rider will ride in on a white horse a bow by his side
He comes in the name of peace and good will, but he practices to deceive with
flattery and great skill
A red horse follows close on the first riders heels
He comes with a sword to take peace from the earth and cause men to kill
War shall ravage the land and the blood of men will flow as a river across the desert
A black horse closes the distance
He will cause a great famine to spread over the land
Many shall cry out in hunger and pain as food shortages cause great strain.
Many shall die in this dark hour of need for there shall be found no grain or seed
Riding in at full gallop the fourth horsemen approaches
The name of this rider is Death and Hell follows close behind him
Men shall watch in defenseless terror, for unto the pale horse
Power is given to kill by the sword, with hunger and the beasts of the field
The time has come to sound a warning through the land for the approaching hoof
of the apocalypse is nigh at hand
I progress from my regress far back behind the rest
Steady Improvement is the Chief Aim
So many are the years I wasted trying to be
...what the society wanted me to be
I?ve retraced my steps to where I lost my way
I?ve regained the platform from which I clearly perceive the horizons ahead
My dreams are now nearer than ever
...because in spite of them being further than they were yesterday
My failures in being something else has reaffirmed in me
...the faith that this is the function whose tool I am
Hence efficiency is the native merit expected of me
...and I promise to effortlessly and efficiently fulfil to the pleasure of analysts
Now I have a stronger will
From my hard fall yesterday I have today healed a stronger soul
I am a front warrior in a war against mediocrity
I am an evangelist of optimism in a county of pessimism
I am a politician in the democracy of dreams
I am a mason in the construction of a better reality
I am an actor in the play of successful living
I am a student in the University of Life
I am a seeker of the Universal Keys
I am a shooting star with a definite course, Infinity is my destination
But for now as tick-tock of the clock resounds
I am the ant with a defined purpose
History is my trusted friend, never lies to me
...and always enlightens me with better lessons
Time is my ally, always on my side
My dreams are the business plan
The seeds I hope to reap tomorrow
My skills, dedication, and passions are my equity
...the capital I count on
Mother Nature and the infinite mind are my guarantors
I fear not to take the highest risks for I am insured by the Policy of Faith
For me life is an endless series of opportunities
I dare to dream because I have the capacity to believe
I dare to strive because I trust in my native abilities
I have a name that has no one else
It is a name that must be built with candid effort from the ground up
I am now digging the foundation for this castle of a name
For at the end of the day
It begins with the fact that I am standing at the gate of possibilities
My spirit has brought me thus far, what?s left is to walk in
Shall I knock or shall I let myself in
Let me first proclaim my name and see if the children of souls recognize
I am Wiseton Prins, the Son of a Dream
Suspense... what happens next
Alertness.. Excitement.. Exhilaration..
Elation... Anticipation... Confidence..
Spencer just turned 7 the other day.
My wife and I adopted Spencer after many years of trying to add to our family the
old fashioned way; then, after a few years of trying to add to our family the
newfangled, medically assisted way.
My three biological children from a previous marriage lived with us from the time
they were 12, 10 and 6. By the time we got around to going the adoption route the
two oldest were already in and out of college and the youngest was a senior in high
school. No empty nest for us, just a fast train to insanity.
I started my family, a story for another time, when I was just twenty-one. After
being the youngest father of most of their peers, I was now going to get to
experience being the oldest father this time around.
People say that as an older parent you are more patient and understanding – I am
not so sure that I agree; I just think fewer things bother you and you learn to
realize that rules are not so important. Many times, I think, as parents, we simply
enforce rules because we can.
Spencer loves to dip his foods. He dips his mandarin orange slices in ketchup. He
dips his French fries in caramel meant for apple slices. He dips his cheese in his
yogurt. Basically, whatever we serve him, if it’s a solid, of any kind, it gets dipped in
the soft, liquidy food that happens to be closest to him.
Years ago, I probably would have not only tried to convince him that this was
wrong, but I am pretty sure I would have forbidden him to do that. Now? What do
I care? If he likes it and he eats his broccoli, what do I care that he dips it in his
A few years ago, Spencer and I went on a father son excursion to buy him his first
gold fish. I asked Spencer what he was going to name his fish and, after thinking
about it for a while, he said, “I think I want to name him, Mmmgggghh.”
I immediately responded, almost as a reflex action, “Mmmggghh? That’s not a
name, that’s a sound.”
Spencer, in his wonderfully innocent way, asked, “Why can’t a name be a sound?”
He loved Mmmggghh and loves telling people the story about his first pet.
Now some of you may read this and think I am being too relaxed in my duties as a
father. You may think that I should be teaching my son the “correct” way to do
things – even as simple as how to eat and what not to mix or dip in what.
Me? Nah. Instead, I wish to thank Spencer for teaching me to question the norms.
Why can’t a name be a sound?