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Narrative Sad Poems | Narrative Poems About Sad

These Narrative Sad poems are examples of Narrative poems about Sad. These are the best examples of Narrative Sad poems written by international PoetrySoup poets

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Details | Narrative | |

The Clouds

THERE HE WAS HOLDING OUT HIS HAND.

My voice=
God, can I hold your hand and go with you?

Gods voice~
My sweet child, it is I who will walk with you now! You walked down my path with and without faith. You took my protection to ease your pain. My shielded wings comfort you during your moments of suffering while your life staggered across the earth... Your love and devotion is what made you strong. Every time your dreams were broken. You managed to build more dreams in their place. You called my name during your happiest and saddest moments. You always ran up to me when you fell behind. Your secrets became our private talks. The key to your heart was always unlocked. I was there during your trials and troubles of tribulations. We could not speak, but it was my light that would not allow you to get weak.

My voice=
Is this that dream of beauty? The one in the book my preacher spoke of. 
Yes! I remember it now it is called paradise. I felt this company once before, Lord.
Many times, I have forsaken this light, and still it never left my door.
I felt it the day I was born, and the day I became baptized in your holy name.
I felt this light before, can you explain it some more? 
Lord pleases clarify that day I fell down to my knees and accepted Jesus as my savior? 
Every day since, I felt as if you stood away and walked on by, allowing me to face my own failures’.  Was my life a waste in this impossible world?"

Gods voice~  
My child, this is the everlasting light you will feel every time your body is re-born onto a new road.  This light never left you. 
My sweet child did you not listen, Matthew *19:26* MY SON looked at them and said, "With man this is impossible, but with ME all things are possible. My child you were not searching for the right answers.

My voice= 
My Lord everyone told me if I prayed you would come. Did I not pray right?

Gods voice~ 
My child sometimes your heart asked for more than life itself, which left questions for someone else.  
At times how could I answer when you shunned heaven away from your eyes?
The obvious question is whether this is the final immersing of your souls disguises.

My voice= 
Lord, I have other questions to ask. 
What should I expect out of my personal sins? My testimonial sits in the palm of your hand.
My mind and my heart's inner core have been wicked since my adolescence days. 
How is it that I am in your promise land?

Gods voice~  
Getting right with me has brought you here!

My voice= 
One more question My Heavenly Father.
Can I see her?  I meant, could I see them? My Daughter, Mother's and Sisters~

by;PD


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Sweetest Love Note

One night a guy & a girl were
driving home from the movies. The
boy sensed there was
something wrong because of the painful
silence they shared between them
that night. The girl then asked the boy to pull over
because she wanted to talk. She told him that her
feelings had changed & that it was time to move on.
A silent tear slid down his cheek as he
slowly reached into his pocket & passed her a folded note.
At that moment, a drunk driver was speeding down
that very same street. He swerved
right into the drivers seat, killing the boy.
Miraculously, the girl survived. Remembering the note, she
pulled it out & read it.
"Without your love, I would die."


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My Heart Sobs

I'm till struggling to connect with you...
It feels strange that you are actually here, and so near..
You...walked past me a couple of times,
Your eyes were glistening, sober, serious...
Rushing by as if something deathly important lie ahead
In that moment, I could hear my heart thrashing in my throat
A victim in a prison, desperately closing those eyes from the fear
Wanting...to reach out to you....
But not knowing how...

How will you ever know the tears I have shed?
How will you ever see the love and care in my eyes? 
Maybe we will never know what we could be...
Maybe I am lost in uncertainty's sea

But, please...
Don't walk by me...
No, not anymore...
My sorrowful soul holds its breath when you do...
And when you are gone again...
My heart sobs...


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The Sparrow

He called it love and his captivating way,
   She called it fear and longed for the day.
All alone she cried those bitter nights,
   While he ran around to his hearts delight.
He had her heart he pulled her strings,
    All she ever wanted was the joy that only true love can bring.
He controlled her mind, her spirit, her soul,
     All alone with no hopes of ever achieving her goals.
Completely stripped of confidence and pride,
    She became a victim of his heartless and evil side.
She was hardly a child when he stole her heart,
    Lured in to his web with lies and broken promises from the start.
Now all of her dreams have faded away,
    As she musters up courage to try to make it through another day.
He has convinced her that what he says is the final word,
    No matter what she had read or heard.
You can’t make it out there, alone, is what he said!
    You won’t last a week till somebody finds you dead.
So callous and cruel he chose those frightening words to keep her here,
    But she had reached the end and leaving was the only way and she saw it clear.
She said you’re right and I should hush so let’s not fight,
     But her things were packed, she’d be leaving this night.
He got all dressed and went out to make the town,
     She called her a taxi and left that clown.
She broke the bonds that held her there,
     Now she’s on her own enjoying life and breathing in this new found air.
This little sparrow has found her wings,
     Enjoying everything this life can possibly bring.


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---And the Angel Looked On

"I heard an angel speak last night and he said "write" - Elizabeth Barrett Browning 

"Remember..."
that was the last word he whispered before his eyes closed forever...
"Remember..."

I close my own eyes, bite my lower lip, 'til I taste tin, stone angel crying with me...
The wind sends chills through me, as the heavens threatened to weep
brown leaves skittering between my feet, seeking for shelter.
How I related to those leaves: dry...brittle...dead.

I look at the Angel that watches over him,imploring for answers, 
begging this Guardian to take pity on me, help me remember. 
She only looks at me, with tears in her eyes, her beautiful face
always looked enigmatic to me, for she was smiling...
and yet those tears hinted at sadness, 
seemingly reprimanding me with her look.
I bow my head in shame, and reach for her hands, 
but I only feel cold, hard stone...not unlike my heart

My throat catches, I can hardly breathe--
I loosen my grip, feeling it might burn this time
...from guilt, for forgetting...

I glance at her magnificent wings, and wished I had them, too,
if only to fly away, but my feet are stuck on the ground, 
with a heart buried in regret.

I whisper one word: "Sorry":spoken so softly, I think I only said it in my heart;
I say it louder, my body wracked with sobs, my heart bleeding crimson tears of anguish. 
I look at the Angel and notice something on her sash--
One pristine white feather lay there-a stark contrast to the moss covered stone.
I take the feather, notice wordings etched on the sash--and scraped off moss, 
Tennyson's words go straight to my heart...
" 'Tis better to have loved and lost, than never to have loved at all."

The memories come back like a flash flood, assaulting me, bringing me back to that day.
He told me he had an angel carved to be with him at his grave, 
since I, his angel, couldn't always be there for him. And that he understood, 
that it was okay. I shrugged it off, told him I love him forever.
I still do, that's why it shamed me that I also love another now.

Seeing those words, I felt such a sense of peace, like he was embracing me, 
smoothing out my hair like he used to, telling me it was all right. 
I blink back tears, and say "Thank you" this time...I hug the Angel and I felt warm.
Drizzle and sunlight bounced off each other as I walked away. 
I turn my head around to his grave
--and the Angel looked on with a smile.


Constance's Angels in Cemeteries contest
 June 18, 2011


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New Road

In a new road,
Rain will fall,
Wind may blow,
Swifting our woe.

The road forever on and on,
Many paths to choose,
Many paths to take,
Home behind,
World ahead...

Through the shadows,
Through the night,
Clouds going by,
There we will lie,
Very deep,
Seeing shivered land,
Seeing the dead seas...

Through the edge,
Miles to go,
Singing by,
Darkness rising,
Vanishing light,
Hollow flourishing,
Going by,
World ahead,
Home behind...

Rain may fall,
Through the nightfall,
Through the twilight,
Through the dusk,
Through the dawn,
Beyond mountains,
Beyond stones,
Standing strong,
Wandering lost,
World ahead,
Home behing,
Paths on and on,
'Till the road comes along...


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The Rose

Once bloomed a rose so young and fair
With dark brown eyes and long black hair

Beside her be a tall dark tree
Whose branches stretch to smother thee

Too close beside the shadowy bark
That soon begins to leave its mark

She cries for help, but none shall hear
Her thorns too sharp, who’d dare go near?

To save this rose, who’d risk their life?
With naught to gain but pain and strife

Alone, afraid, she lays to rest
Her heart beats low inside her chest

And with the hour growing near
She sheds her final grieving tear

And so the rose soon falls asunder
Her final day, eternal slumber

She lies beside the old dark tree
The only one who mourns for thee


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A letter to my man

It might take a while to tell you my thoughts,
It might take a while to show you what I've got,
Sometimes its sad sometimes its not,
sometimes am happy cause you're all I've got.

Am a beautiful girl covered in an ugly shell,
Its a long story but let me tell you how it went.

I once loved a man who was out of my league,
I thought he would be my king and i his queen,
We dated for weeks and i love him more
As time went by he wanted much more.

He got what he wanted and he told the world,
Facebook,twitter and all the social clubs,
I cried for days, i cried for long,
I shut myself from that ugly world.

So give me sometime my dear,
To get over this fear,
To heal the wounds in my heart,
To open up my heart that was shut.

Be patient with me all the way,
Cause i'll be thinking of you everyday,
Take care of my heart don't throw it away,
Its an ugly path please be with me everyday.


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Battle Scars

Don’t judge that kid with her arms all scarred
Don’t brand that kid as bad
You never would have survived 
If you had the life she had
So say a prayer and show you care
She’s paid more than her share of dues
Don’t put her down or say bad things
Until you’ve walked that mile in her shoes
Those who suffered in war earn respect
They are greeted like super stars
She came from a war you wouldn’t understand
On her arms, the battle scars
Her own home was the battle zone
The desperation, feeling all alone
A situation she felt no escape from
Then late at night the urges come
Innocence lost like a bad dream
No self respect, no self esteem
It is an ongoing battle to feel whole
You can see the beauty within her soul
Sometimes I pray for a Judgement day
You have no heart if you look away
Flashbacks come and the anger stirs
The guilt she carries isn’t hers
There is a need for justice long past due
A need for acceptance from me and you
With anger, despair and fear demanding
The child needs some understanding
In spite of all the tears she cried
There are still battle scars deep inside


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The Beauty in Belle

There once was a girl,
Who's name I can't tell.
To spare her the pain,
I'll just call her Belle.

Belle was a beauty
And all the beasts could see,
She was everything in a girlfriend
That they wanted theirs to be.

Belle was so trusting,
Because she was never treated wrong,
But little did she know that
Her innocence wouldn't last long.

She had two friends,
Sasha and Trevor,
And a boyfriend that she thought
She'd love forever.

Her boyfriend, Sam,
And Trevor were friends.
So this fearsome foursome
Had fun to no end.

The youngest of the four
But the smartest, she thought.
But what a friend was
Was not what she was taught.

Trevor and Belle
Would hang out all day.
She would try to be like him
In her own boyish way.

You see, the Trevor I speak of
Was King of the Beasts
And everything he wanted
Was laid at his feet.

And, although curious,
Belle stayed true to Sam
And that made Trevor feel
That he was less of a man.

One day, in a summer
5 years ago,
Belle told me something
I needed to know.

She told me what happened
The day that she ran.
The day that will forever
Be burned in the sand.

She told me what happened
When she looked over her shoulder
And saw him walking towards her
As the room grew colder.

She told me her tears
Were no match to his power.
She told me what made this beast
A coward.

She told me she screamed
And hollered and yelled
But her cries were soon muffled
By his lips, dry and pale.

She told me how she felt
The day that she was bruised.
Never in her life
Had she felt so used!

I asked her why she didn't fight
Or get tough like she does on the field.
She just said I'd never know the 
Weakness that I would feel.

I couldn't help but to cry for her
As she blamed herself.
Belle had always wanted to be
The beauty on everyone's shelf.

"But not like that," she said to me,
"Not with one of my friends."
She let a tear roll down her face
As she spoke of her life's end.

Some may ask why'd she tell me;
"What made her come to you?"
I simply look at them and say,
"You don't know Belle like I do."

I know this story in great detail
And if you look real close you'll see
The tear I shed while writing this
Because...Belle is me.


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Where Were You

He looked at me with
begging eyes,

Hiding in his own world.

All knew his looks,
But none knew him.

No one realized
who he was.

Alone, desperate.

Then one day,
Everyone closed in on him

Their daggers pointing
At the only feeling he had:

Sorrow.

He let out a sob
One small sob that told them everything

They walked away.
But they never ceased to push and shove him

Dislocating his heart and putting sorrow to his words.

They never realized
What they were doing

Until it was too late.

He put a sword to his heart and said,
"I love you, mom and dad, but now it's time for me to go."

Stabbing his heart,
He cried.

He lay there, his cold and still body radiating sorrow

The others never glanced,
But I looked at him.

I carried him out,
Not understanding why others would do this.

When we held a funeral,
Some said he was kind and so I asked,

"Where were you when he needed you?"


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Alone in a Hospital Room - An Alzheimer's Song

Don’t you remember, love, how we danced that first night;
beneath the sun’s rays, toes dipping in the cooling sand, 
to the tune of our favorite song –
with me humming the best I could – 
(I sounded terrible, but you told me I sounded divine, remember?)
while falling all over myself, and your delicate feet; 
and you, trying so hard not to laugh as I made such a fool of myself!
Did you ever think we would go 
from being love-sick teenagers dancing on the beach, 
to a couple of old-timers reminiscing 
about our best years – our long ago days together? 

Honey? 
Sweetheart, please…
If there is any part of that teenage girl 
left within that beautiful head of yours…please; 
please, just look in my eyes as you once did…
look at me, sweetheart…
Don’t you remember? 

My love, do you hear? 
They’re playing our favorite song…



*Inspired by Izzy Gumbo's Solfege Contest
I really hope I did this right! :)


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Beyond the sign

Hello friend, Do you see that man on the corner by the street?
He is holding the cardboard saying "homeless and I need to eat." 
If you're not too busy, come with me on a journey back to 1969.
It will help you to look past his appearence and beyond his homemade sign.

This is the 1960's, where they thrived on the American Dream.
The women were real ladies, or at least in public thats what it seems.
Today is High School graduation, So much happiness is in the air,
But, These young men have recieved papers, and Uncle Sam expects them there.

Do you recognize the bone structure of this boy standing on our right?
He is the one from the future corner, he was Valedictorian tonight.
So well dressed, and raised up right, his sweetheart by his side.
He has no reason to be fearful of the draft, he is filled with American Pride.

Fast foward, Just a few weeks, to him and his young new wife,
Kissing so passionately, pressing pause on their future, and their life.
He is dropped down in the jungle, amist the sounds of live fire.
He sees injured men being lifted out, as the SGT's on the wire.

Just a young boy of 19, he is scared beyond his witts,
Yet, he completes every mission he is given, he never quits.
He holds the hands of friends, who was cut down in their prime.
Yes, this is the same man, the one you wouldn't give a dime.

He arrives back home, in the year of 1972.
His tour earned him a purple heart, he took bullets for you.
once at home, he is expecting affection from his lover,
but, he has been gone for so long she already found another.

So at 21 years old, this veteran is now a man,
He drinks his memories away, everynight if he can.
He gave an eye, and two of the best friends he has ever known.
He never was told "thank you", and he has nothing to call his own.

If you pay close attention to the newspapers of '72
you will see in the protest, they blamed the drafted soilders too.
so here is this man, young, and broken, yet, still not ashamed.
He proudly answered the call, when the draft listed his name.

Only a fellow Veteran, could even try to understand,
That there are no surviving Vets, a part of them died in Vietnam.
When they returned they expected welcome parties and smiles.
Instead they were placed in a new war, but, it was their uniform on trial.

If you still feel the same as you did before our walk.
Go on about your day, forget about our talk.
But, if you have decided, you can look beyond his sign.
Maybe understand his pain, and give our hero a dime.


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when autumn comes

here, where I walk,
confused silence swirls around my feet,
and the anguished summer leaves
are lingering limp, waiting for autumn...,
waiting to crumble and mingle with earth
drunk with the morning dew

somewhere beneath them
under the thunder
earth wears the scab of a fresh wound
in a place that will not be forgotten...
corrupt with mourning
sprouting with questions
immersed with regret
hollowed with anger
and shadowed by trees of despair

birch-bark faces, heads bent low, shadowed eyes
stone-cold voices, carried in the wind, behind disguise
while mute birds watch without a song
the leaves will decay, green goes, and the eye forgets
forget?  never....
while pawing on the hard and bitter earth
of reason, is impossible...

autumn comes
and autumn goes
I will live in hope that baffled minds
will clearly see a winter sun
and give up blaming ... who?



_________________________________


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The Empty Tissue Box

My heart was in such pain
I felt like I was going to go insane
I just don't know what to do 
And my eyes full of tears that distort my view

I fell to my knees and felt the urge
My muscle tighten and pin needles struck me like a surge
My body was warm and with feelings so confused
My mind felt sadness had fused

I could not conquer my fears
I just sat down and fell into tears
When some close to you passes on
It felt like a warmth has gone

So I raised my hand towards a box that was empty with no tissue
I first was embarrass and had a little bit of issue
All my friends hugged me and said sorry for your loss
So now I cry in my bed and toss


April 14, 2013


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African Child

" From the debt of my heart"

The African child
Sat behind the bamboo fence
He was sober and tense
Sputtering and wondering.
He forsook the bush meat
And the gathering under the moonlight
For sobriety and the causes of his uncertainties.
His clothes were like dried leaves
His feet like openings in the eaves
He longed to see a brighter tomorrow
He clarified the causes of his sorrow;
Sins of the father,
Fighting not to make things better
Therefore darkening the weather,
Making his destiny falter and bitter.
Tears exuded from the sound of his flute,
His fears enlarged like a parachute
But one thing he never understood,
Watch and pray, oh! African root
For your foundation is stinky, filthy,
Faulty and guilty...... watch and pray.



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Am I Turning into a Lizard Serial Killer

Hmmm, where do I start? With deep sighs, I am sighing right now.
I just finished burying 2 lizards, and my heart is heavy...

Let me back up a bit...bear with me if I might turn out to be confusing here,
but I just need to write this, release something, in some way
Although I must admit, this is not exactly what I had in mind to write for this day,
hopefully I can write something more decent later...

I have been wanting to write something for my brother since yesterday,
since February 26 is his 10th year death anniversary.
The words remained stuck in my heart, 'til I fell asleep.

Visited him again today, heard mass for him, 
ate a Chinese dinner with my parents and sister, went home.

I now needed dessert. Got a piece of Ferrero Rocher, but just one wouldn't do.
So I got a piece of Almond Roca this time and ate it while walking.

All this time, I have managed to keep my tears away
but maybe somehow, someway, if tears want to fall, they will find a way?

I walk to that area again as I ate that piece of chocolate-
when what do you know, what do you know??

Oh sighs.

I stepped on a lizard.  Again 

Yes. Almost exactly the Same area, tail falls off, and the lizard skitters away.

But. I did not slip this time. But, yes, I still screamed, scaring everybody again.

I. Could. Not. Simply. Believe. IT.

One month and 25 days after, I step on a lizard. Again.

Today, of all days. As if I needed more reason to be sadder.

This time around, I had the sense to try to find that lizard. 
I had to know if it lived, if it was okay.
I pushed away the nearby cabinet.
And there it was.
Rather, and there they were.

The lizard that I stepped on now
and the petrified remains of the lizard that I stepped on on new year's day...
the other one didn't live after all :(

I know it was that lizard, same area, no tail, who else could it be?
Survival mechanism, no match for my killer foot.

By this time, I am crying, sobbing. 
Seriously, the tears just start falling, and my heart so heavy.
And I know it's from the combination of so many things.
The day itself, what I had just done, just things running through me.

What broke my heart, was to see that lizard. 
I was wearing rubber shoes this time, last time I was wearing slippers.
And its guts had spilled from its sides. 
I couldn't help but keep on saying, "Oh, oh, oh lizard, I am so sorry"

I touched it feebly, and it was literally gaping its mouth.
I don't think I can ever forget that?
Such a small creature, gasping, with its insides out, 
its skin on its legs and body scraped.
In pain.
Dying.

And it was all my fault.

My sister was there with me, trying to help in her own way.

But yes, there's nothing you can really do...I didn't want to stress it even more,
and let death finish what I did. 


There's so much I can glean from this, and I want to ramble on, so badly
but I will try to stop myself from rambling too much.

I put the two lizards, along with a note, the dates when I stepped on them 
(ok, killed them), and placed them carefully in a chocolate truffle box.

I buried them and still feel so sorry.

In some ways, this is can be so funny, and just  freaky & crazy (what's new, this is me?)
What were the odds??? Same place, same thing happening.
And I can't help but roll my eyes at myself as well, just finding it so hard to fathom
how I stepped on not just one but Two lizards in just two months.

I bet that the lizards are all afraid of me now, 
saying how I am a lizard killer. A serial lizard killer.
MO: stepping on them while screaming, maybe my screams also killed them off?

I actually took photos of both lizards, I am not sure why though.
Oh dear God, help me, I am acting like one, even documenting them.

I tell you, as I watched that lizard die, I couldn't help but just also
think of St. Jude (for the impossible) and St. Francis of Assisi (for animals).

I know he was dying, but somehow, yes, prayers still comfort me.

I just feel so guilty, with this happening. 

I still can't help but cry for those lizards, death by me, for no reason at all,
no purpose served.

Animals, people....death.

I know it's all a part of life... 
but it still doesn't change the fact how death can change us
and of how I am responsible for two lizard deaths.
I know they were just small animals, but Still. They were living creatures.

Death can change us in small ways, some in big ways, negatively or positively.

It all boils down to death transforming us one way or another...

I won't expound on it anymore, this is too long,
but one of the ways I can think of comparing it to, is that of a chemical change,
maybe of the spirit, the soul? Not merely a physical change.


And we can never be the same. 






022720141207123552


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Longer Shadows of the Moon

He is caught between one life and another
while my pain lengthens like a shadow of the moon
We are like leaves, played with by the wind

O lengthening dark vision
reaching across our lives
It came, at last, without a sound...
his leave taking came without a word,
but we both heard it in the silence....

His world is in the palm of his hand
and my world is this moment that does not move

O furtuna, sternit fortem
O furtuna, rota tu volubillis

Never was he mine, never was he not mine
The child, no longer, child that bends and sways
My eyes reflect the clouds upon the sky
for he reaches out a hand upon my crown 
and I feel the gentle warmth upon my head

A knowing hand of man, not boy, that once I vowed to keep
must leave and know that I will weep
as if I am the child, ....not he,...instead 

O fortuna, velut luna 
Statu variabillis, semper crescis, aut decrescis;

I force a smile, and watch him fly away
Quod per sortem .... Sternit fortem,
never was he mine, never was he not mine






-----------------------------------
For Deb's Contest: Bi-Lingual
Latin translated
         ----
O Fortuna (O Fortune)
Velut luna (like the moon)
Statu variabilis (you are changeable)
Semper crescis (ever waxing)
Aut decrescis; (and waning;)                                
Quod per sortem (since Fate)
Sternit fortem, (strikes down the string)                     
 Rota tu volubilis, (you whirling wheel)
Corde pulsum tangite; (pluck the vibrating strings;)
Quod per sortem (since Fate)
Sternit fortem, (strikes down the string)


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DEMONS ALSO CRY

DEMONS ALSO CRY

Beyond the crave for death
All I sought was first,
Weep-not my newborn soul
Where fireflies shine lighter than the lamps
And fishes swam faster than their homes
Like  trampled troubled tramps,
Then, demons also cry.

Groans and moans of pain,
Down they roam like rain
Memories sparked with flashes of feisty flare
For all that is left is nothing but darkness
Piercing the thread of our bond
That even angels dare not dare
Then, demons also cry

Here, days brimmed with sadness
To miscarriage of nights darkness
That even birds glide backward
And when asked why, we say, its nature to nurture
Conscience lye frozen in muss, has God punished us?
Que sera, sera and all go wayward,
Then, demons are also crying
						By Tutuola michael


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America, Why Did You Stray?

America, why did you stray from the old way.
A constitution put forth, the foundation of our land,
barely recognizable what was originally Jefferson's hand.
Tarnished and smudged by misinterpretation,
overindulgence and greed, to satisfy political,
judicial, and journalistic need.
Once majority rule, now bordering on ridicule,
the law of the land, ever changing, meeting demands,
of whoever takes a stand.

America, why did you stray, parents unable to discipline,
fear children undisciplined now rule, school in chaos,
students unruly, guaranteed to pass, unprepared for their future,
parents unsure, wish for the past, hope the next generation,
won't be like the last.

America, why did you stray, streets used to be a place to play,
neighbors knew one another, socialized every day,
doors left unlocked, nothing to fear, families stayed close,
helped one another, took care of mother.

Now drugs rule the day, hate and crime more common than play,
multiple locks symbolic of today, rarely talk to a stranger,
living in fear; life no longer precious, taken away,
day after day, the bloody count rises, a country in crisis,
victims pay, guilty appeal, courts give them the best deal.
Nobody protests for victims rights, put a murderer to death,
they scream all night.

America, why did you stray, hatred and bigotry alive 
and well today, nationalities split, long for the old way,
when an American, was just an American, now hyphenation,
the accepted way.

America, why did you stray, once an industrial giant
you gave it away, too high a standard for industry to pay,
moved out of country, the new American way, unemployment,
poverty, homelessness rapidly increasing, ruined lives,
while billions are spent on so called allies.

America, why did you stray, what's written today,
barely address the wrongs building every day,
religion is accepted, God is not,
country divided, politically split,
presidential bashing provides journalistic wit,
hatred and bigotry, live for it.

America why did you stray, new chapters every day,
really a damn shame.


Details | Narrative | |

Chinese Scrolls

Poems from old and yellowed
Chinese scrolls make me sad,
make me sad: stored in shiny,
lacquered boxes of perfumed teak,
they crumble when unrolled.
And the hands that must have written
Chinese thoughts upon the rolls:
little, leathern, patient hands,
painting poems -- stroke and stroke
and careful, delicate stroke --
stopping, meanwhile, to twirl
a waxed mustache --
for someone else, a foreigner,
who cannot understand, to read,
mull over, and be sad.
And this when Chinese thoughts
are gone, and tiny, trembling
Chinese hands are dust.


Details | Narrative | |

A Blind Sunset

He glances out the window,
And watches the sunset,
But he doesn’t see the beauty,
Nor the warm rays which, 
Pierces through the glass,
Only the anticipation and, 
Anxiety of a long night,

Carefully, he watches, 
The colors change,
First the bright orange, 
"God I pray this never ends…"
Filling with a deep red,
"Just a little while longer…"
Slowly softening to the, 
Deceptive pinks and purples,
"Please, one more minute…"
Fading into the crimson black,
Which only night can bring,

Reluctantly, he gets ready for sleep,
Yet, knows it will never come,
He tossed and turns,
Half praying, half waiting,
Knowing what will happen,
In the way only a child can,

A light! It peeks through a crack,
In the door as a shadow floods the opening,
Quickly, the figure slips through the door,
And shuts it softly, but not without the,
Empty creak which has become so familiar,
The shadow climbs in beside him,
Touching his trembling leg, whispering,

“Hush little brother, it’ll be alright,
While I’m here, have no fear,
I’ll keep you safe tonight,”

He struggles and writhes,
Sadly knowing he will never,
Break the grip and prays to faint,
To loss all consciousness and,
Memory of that horrible night,
Just for one night without the pain,
Just for one night without, 
The cold empty feeling, 

Several years pass, too many to count, 
A single call, one he had never expected,
He rushes to the hospital to find, 
His tormentor for so many years,
Lying on a cold, hard bed,
Able to move, but only by pushing a button,
Able to speak, but only with a whisper,

He stays by him for weeks, caring for him,
Reading to him, watching over him,
Still suffering, still unable to move, 
He takes his brother home, 

The day goes on, moving slow as all,
The evening comes and he,
Watches once more as the sun sets,
Carefully watching, Orange to red,
Red to purple, and as the purple turns to black,
He walks into the room where his brother lies,
Slowly, he sits next to him, holding a pillow,
Stroking his head whispering,

“Hush big brother, it’ll be alright,
While I’m here, have no fear,
I’ll keep you safe tonight,”

The difference between right and wrong,
Can be hard to find,
But who’s there to see you,
When justice is blind?



Details | Narrative | |

AGE

I have worked with the elderly for many years,
Heard many happy stories and shed a few tears.
I keep in mind a story I was once told,
How it is like for the elderly to grow old.

Put on bottle cap glasses so you can’t see to well,
While I finish my story I must tell.
Place ear plugs in so that I must shout,
My words will be very hard to figure out. 

Now dear put some pebbles in your shoes,
So when you walk slow you have an excuse.
Some think that because I where diapers I'm a baby again,
And treat me like I can’t understand.

And when I'm sometimes blue,
Nurses patronize me saying I know what you’re going through.
Remember I once lived in a grand home,
And had a family of my own.

I took my youth for granted like we all do,
So you must understand why I sometimes get blue.
Nurses come into my room and don’t even knock,
Sometimes assuming I'm as deaf as a rock.

Sometimes they talk as if I'm not there,
Some just pretend that they care.
Some call me sweetie and dear,
Sometimes forgetting “ Yoo-hoo! I was born first here.”

So when I get snippy and snap at your heel,
You must understand how I must feel.
To once have control and lose my dignity,
Is not what I envisioned for me.

I am perpetually young at heart,
even if my face don't play the part
So next time you see me wheeling through,
To assume make an ass out of me and you


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Shut Your Dirty Mouth

Tonight I thought I shook off a roach. Swore I felt it approach. Imagined it crawling down
my throat. My Dad came out from the den and asked What’s Wrong? I said, Nothing, I’m fine
when I still felt bits of dead roach nesting in my spine. That’s Divine.

I feel the Holy Spirit in me tonight. Jesus Christ! I must have done right! Don’t come
near me, I’m contaminated, clearly. Oh, God, need me! So that the sky doesn’t turn black
every time I look up to seek your advice. My chips are stacked, I’ve got them wracked.
Roll the dice six six six every time. On my Dime. I think I may have crossed the line.
Maybe I’m sick. Maybe I’m not hip to this.

Maybe I just need to settle down. Take a breath. Take a pill. Sit real still. Stare until
I become comatose blare my music so loud that my eyes become brazen and I can’t hear what
you’re saying.

Do roaches bite? I wonder at night. As I hide beneath the covers that used to shield us
from one another. Protect us from the evils in this world, bring no harm to little girls.
Now they just cover up old condoms and dirty food crumbs.

Numb. Numb. Numb. Can’t move. Limbs feel numb, limbs feel wrung, limbs feel slung,
stammering and slurring like grandma after her stroke.

This is a joke. The world’s a joke. We’re a joke.

Then why aren’t we laughing? Why aren’t we guffawing until our paws fall off, our mittens
become smitten and we cough up our dirty lungs with joy.

Oh boy, here I go again. If this is a joke why aren’t we laughing? Why aren’t we guffawing
until our paws fall off, our mittens become smitten and we cough up our dirty lungs with joy.


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Depression has taken over me

Hurting inside feel like I am about to cry Like anyone cares that I am dyeing inside I feel 
like I could disappear into thin air and no one would that I wasn't there I could leave 
tomorrow and see that none would know  that I was even there they would cease to care 
Life is about living for today not tomorrow  but no one told me  that it would be filled with 
so much sorrow I feel like giving up and calling it quits because there is nothing  here in 
this world I'm in well I said my piece I said it all now I feel like crawling up into  a tiny little 
ball well that's it that's a wrap it's the end of the show oh wait it's not a show it's my life  
well go on think what you want to think but I lost my Hope and Faith and it's not a 
mistake it's the story of truth being told I am hurting inside that's no lie because now I 
have just died a little more inside


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this was me

it began so innocently
we exchanged ideas on poetry
his art, the suffering he endured
he preyed upon my compassion
as he meticulously bided his time...

i felt safe as we expressed
our mutual love of words
i was excited, i was learning,
unbeknowst to me, i was his prey..

many months and thousands of hours, 
talking, reaffirmed my trust; faith in him
he shared his life, triumps & tragedies
i supported all he desired for himself..

i understood, i felt his pain, 
his drive i admired, he overcame tremedous odds,
became a doctor so others would not suffer as he had;
he baited me; the innocent and naieve one.

living life with no regret,
i chose to take a leap of faith,
he guided me, alleviated my fears,
of promises to cherish and adore me..

as a tiger waits patiently to pounce on his prey
i was oblivious to his hatred inside,
he was a master of manipulation
his mission - to destroy me..

i felt he was worth giving 
up all i knew to build a life
he so lovingly described to me,
little did i know, his words - poison..

america bound i left everything i knew; i loved.
the terror of his drunken rages, his icy silence,
the cruelty of his words stung like red hot coals.
what he admired most about me,intensified his hatred.

the vacancy in his eyes was terrifying, 
i was alone in a strange country, 
knowing no one, in a house, not a home, 
full of tension, rage, abuse; numb and in shock;
this was my reality..

with each painstaking day of living in terror
dreading his arrival, my fear reached new heights;
i had enough; i was leaving.
his rage increased, his words pure venom..

i was numb, shaking, fear drove me to action
he became desperate, i did not sleep 
for fear of never waking, his actions so terrifying
i felt a strength within, empowering me..

planning my escape, fear became my ally,
i reached the airport and did not stop shaking
until safely on the plane, doors shut, 
moving down the runway to take-off;
i wept, i crumbled, i collapsed.

jubilantly at home, i felt peace, safe, 
and soaked in the beauty of my freedom; my home.
it has been six weeks; i have flashbacks, 
terror still haunts me; i am determined 
to not let another change me.

i am healing and am grateful for every
moment i smile, smell a flower, witness
the marvel of each sunrise and sunset.
i am a blessed girl.

~this was me~ 


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Quit That Tapping

like the raven 
who taps taps upon 
your chamber door
do not fret my Virginia
for it's my shadow
moving across the floor
this is what I'm telling you my darlin
and nothing more

beneath lattice
I still call your name
come to me virginia
come hear the tap tap 
upon your chamber door
for only you my love 
I surrender and never more

wind howls in blanket snows
here I stand so all alone
broken hearted and misconstrued
my Virginia who lies under stars and moon
just a tap tap upon your chambers door
tis I and nothing more

tales of hidas truth
blackbird sings harps cords
just like the tap tap upon your chambers door
my sweet Virgina whom I adore
for there'll be love waiting and nothing more

as I lay right next to you in this tomb
I counted only seven who have even knew
the times of this raven who 
tapped tapped upon your chambers door
twas only I and will be never more


Tribute To Edgar Allen Poe
And His Young Bride Virginia
Also To His Poem The Raven


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Under My Skin

Alone she sits at a table for two
In the corner bistro off Main
Cole Porter’s "I’ve Got You under My Skin"
Wafts softly throughout the room 
After hours of lingering hope 
She watches happy clients come and go
Bubbles of happiness fill their chatter
Laughter walks out trailing behind


Alone she sits and surveys the room
Even the wait staff now seems scarce
Time has vanished like steam in air
A waiter hints it is closing time
Table lights now give out a faint glow
Too much to bare, she decides to leave
But…O, how she loves him so! And though it's late
Still, she stalls… perhaps he will show up soon  

10/'09

For Brian Strand's Contest-A haiga to Edward Hopper's "Automat"


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she dying to survive

deprived of a father to tell her that her skirts to small
she wore it to hug her hips and rise with every sway in her walk
her mother, another statistic of having babies to young,
was to whipped in her dip trying to be hip so she cheered her poor child on

she's dying to survive in a broken home
daddy not around to watch her spend a penny and mamas hardly home
she's dying to survive and she's put her school on hold
she's another undereducated black child with no priorities or goals

she careers soliciting her body, making it hobby to walk up and down blocks
waiting for the right brotha she can sweet talk and pick pocket
at the honk of his horn, she stops hot trotting
hopped in his car and found a quiet spot for lip locking

her hand rises up his leg, she feels for his man
he nods giving her consent
she prices her body for those new Jordan and dolce & gabbani
she'd rather rock the latest fashions then to feed her starving body

she's hopelessly devoted to being the hottest at the parties
she's dying to survive wanting attention to feel the space neglected by another 
who makes alcohol a hobby
she's dying to survive rich living is her poverty

she's deaf to her inner voice that yells to her it's wrong
she confides in bad associates who cheer her on
she doesn't know this is how she's dying
she's dying to survive


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Child Prostitutes (2006)

Staring head on in the face
What is happening in each corner of this dreadful place
I don’t want to say rather me that you
I wish there was something I could do
Children for sale just isn’t right
Buts its happening day and night 


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Lettie Died

Lettie died, the house is empty,
No one in the family left.
Flowered sheets once used as curtains
Faded now by brilliant sunlight
Rot and crumble to the floor.
Beer and Coke cans thrown at windows,
No one seems to care;
The lock is broken, all may enter
Look! the bed where Lettie died!
The front porch sags where Lettie sat
Passing all her summer days
Diabetic and overweight,
Withdrew from life when Mama died.
Noisy tots on tricycles
Pump their legs to get on by;
The house of ghosts, or so says Grandma,
Restless souls who cannot sleep.


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He Loved You

He loved you too, you know
Loved you like his very own
In away you were
You came into his life as my friend
Through the years you grew to be my brother in arms 
Along the way you became the son he never had

He loved you as a friend
He loved you even more as a son
A son he never had
When things began to spiral out of control
You stayed when so many others ran away
You helped when I couldn’t

You meant a great deal to him
You never looked at him differently 
Nor did you treat him differently
You stood by his side
When he fell, you stood by his side and mine
You were willing to help me fight his battle for him 
You were there from the beginning 
You were there until the bitter end
Always remember my friend, my brother
He loved you more than you’ll ever know


____________________________________________________________
Dedicated to close Family friend Rodney Howard. He loved my Daddy just as much as I did/do.


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Me, Myself, and I - (Part 1)

Hello Friends... I suffer from Severe Bi-Polar Disorder and this submission was inspired by 
actual events that occured during one of my especially critical manic episodes. Be sure and 
read Part 2 to complete the poem and leave your comments on the Part 2 submission. Thank 
you for allowing me to share my pain for pain shared is pain diminished 


Me, Myself, and I...


“There are things that concern us,”
		Consensed my “Selves” in earnest
““We” fear that “I” have succumbed to delusion”

“And after careful deliberation
		It is with much hesitation
That we choose to delineate upon this confusion”


“Fact is your intuition
		Is riddled with superstition
And your judgment leaves much to be desired”

“So you leave us no recourse
		Don’t push us to use force”
It is then that the “I” was summarily fired


I exclaimed “By whose authority?” Response, “Rule of majority”
“The “Myself” and the “Me,” (forthwith the “We”), are experts in our field”

“And with much technique and time
		And some forays into the sublime
The nature of your malady will be revealed”


“So to keep yourself from having a fit
		Step back and just calm down a bit”
“We,” they said, “certainly have this under control”

“We swear this won’t hurt at all”
		Then I felt my inhibitions fall
Still I said a prayer to God that He keep my soul


You know, fact is I do feel off axis
		As evidenced by such parapraxis
As this prose that I, (or is it “Us”), seek to pen

And with my mind feeling numb
		I finally chose to succumb
And allow the “Me” and the “Myself” to begin


And then came questions in a flurry
		Answer, answer and please do hurry
Not one moment of respite did they give

They pushed and they prodded
		With every “T” crossed and “I” dotted
My mind felt like it had gone through a sieve


And all this psycho-analysis
		Is causing my mind paralysis
The questions, can you stop with the questions please

“Yes, oh yes indeed
		I do believe we have what we need
To make an attempt to identify your unknown neuroses”


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I am HIV - AIDS

I AM HIV/AIDS 

     
Saint Luke predicted me long time ago,
While the Book of Revelation warned you about me.
I am raging like a wild fire,
I am growling like a lion,
I have spotted you and I will pounce on you!
I am HIV/AIDS!

I attack people in all socio-economic and educational classes,
I cut across cultural and religious sects,
Graves and hospitals bear this testimony.
Despite significant medical accomplishments,
I remain incurable,
I am HIV/AIDS

From Africa to America, Australia to Asia and Artantica to Europe.
From  Cape Provinces to Limpopo and Mpumalanga to Kwa-Zulu / Natal.
From Bekkersdal to Grobblersdal and Makapanstad to Marabastad.
From Sun Valley to Sun City and  Mamelodi to Mametlhake. 
From Witlagte to Langlagte and  Suiwerskuil to Kromkuil.
I am reigning, I am HIV/AIDS.

Woe for the earth and for the sea,
Because I have descended in great anger to devour you!
I refer to you, who do not abstain,
I mean you there, who are not faithful,
And you here who do not condomise,
For I am HIV/AIDS.

Media has warned you,
Priests have preached at the top of their voices,
Politicians have cried loud,
Organizations and institutions have given you warnings,
But all these have come to naught,
Now I will kill you like flies, for I am HIV/AIDS

This is not news to you,
You will certainly catch me through unprotected sex,
Shared infected needles and syringes, contaminated blood,
And from an infected mother to her unborn child.
I then multiply in your blood, mercilessly attacking
Your defence system and leave you for the dead,
For I am HIV/AIDS.

You know this fully well;
You cannot catch me through
Sneezing, sharing toilet seats, coughing,
Or shaking hands with an infected person.
Behold, even if you are not infected,
You are affected by me, for I am HIV/AIDS.

Even though I am dreadful and mighty,
I will finally die and my heart is sore,
That will be when sense is finally knocked in your head,
That will be when you abstain from sex,
You remain faithful to your partner or condomise,
Remember, prevention is better than cure, for I am HIV/AIDS!                                                 




Details | Narrative | |

Me, Myself, and I - (Part 2)

Hello Friends... I suffer from Severe Bi-Polar Disorder and this submission was inspired by 
actual events that occured during one of my especially critical manic episodes. Be sure and 
read Part 1 first so as to get the true gist of the poem and leave your comments here on the 
Part 2 submission. Thank you for allowing me to share my pain for pain shared is pain 
diminished.


Me, Myself, and I... (continued)


“Your, (Or “Our”), symptoms seem to intermit
		And the fact that “You’re,” (“We’re”), a hypocrite
Tis no wonder we’re having such problems with diagnosis”

Then “I” had an idea so grand
		To dispense with this at my own hand
A self-inflicted coup de grace would be my prognosis


So while the “Me” and the “Myself” squabbled
		With courage newly cobbled
“I” spotted the dresser drawer and made my run

With fingers fiercely fumbling
		Whilst they continued grumbling
“I” produced from the depths of the drawer a shiny gun


And now my life, though ill-fated
		Was soon to be vindicated
This would affect us all equally the same

Would be no myself or me
		No you, him, us, or we
But an inclusive all would be to blame


It took me a moment to figure
		Out the safety on the trigger
Then “I,” (or “Us”), prepared to do the dirty deed

Then the barrel found my temple
		And as it settled into the dimple
A still small voice did my “selves” choose to heed


Hence a moment of clarity 
		Harkened me to posterity
And I thought what a legacy to leave behind

“Can’t we all find a way
		To save this miserable day
And avoid a broken body for someone to find”


And then deep within my soul
		I felt and heard a simple drum roll
And the differing sides of me just subsided

And with my mind now as one
		I worked to get this all undone
The whole business of this stuff I derided


And tis now true of fact
		That I survived this ordeal intact
And lived to raise my face unto the sky
 
And here now as it ends
		I find I’ve made good friends
With the “Me”, the “Myself,” and the “I”


Thank you for taking the time to share in my poetry. Please feel free to leave your thoughts 
or comments here on this page. 

J. Scott Burns...


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Don't Take My Kindness For Granted

You think that you know me
But you don't know at all
Every day you say your sorry
After that I fall
I hate it when you lie
You think your doing good
When all you cause is pain
Just tell me that you hate me
So my life won't be in vein...


Details | Narrative | |

The Cook and His Dish

Pity her as she cried 
On the floor, ragged, she lied
She's covered with odd bruises
And hell things on mind cruises

She was there left alone
Mourning for help at home.
Hungry and parched she was,
Hoping someone would pass

“Click! Click!”, the door knob sounds
At last someone’s around.
Who’s there? Who could that be?
At last! She will be free!

But it widened her eyes
Scared and again she cried
‘Twas a man who appeared
Went to her and she feared.

He touched her hair and said
“Hush! Hush! Just go to bed
Stay quite, don’t be a heck!”
And kissed her on the neck.

Poor girl, she just abide
To the man whom she feared
“Why is he doing this?
I’m his daughter, why’s this?”

In the bedroom they were;
Father started kissing her.
Poor lil girl can’t defy
If she speak up, she’ll die.

“Oh my Lord, please help me,
I can’t take it, save me.”
Said her mind as tears flowed
Grieving in pain; she moaned.

Then suddenly she smiled
From what she heard outside.
A sudden hope in her eyes gleamed
From something she perceived.


She heard her mother’s voice
"I'll be saved" she rejoiced
“A miracle for me
Lord replied to my plea.”

And the door opened
Mother saw what happened
Shocked and startled she was
Then screamed for help, at last!

Mother bellowed and slapped him
Outraged and said to him
“She is your daughter!
Why did you rape her?”

Then neighbors came
Naked -- poor girl was ashamed
Dazed and shaken they were
Staring at poor girl and her father.

Then two cops came along
Grabbed the father for his wrong
He panicked and dreaded
Denied all he acted

Livid and offended 
Lil girl stood and stated
“Oh yes, that man raped me,
Not just once but many times.” 

Then her father uttered
“My dish is my daughter.
I’m the one who made her,
So I should also taste her.”

Wretched from what she heard
She spoke not a single word
Woeful and quite, she sniveled
Suddenly collapsed and fell

At last poor girl’s now free
From nightmare and agony
Yes she has a father
But she’s his dish not his daughter.


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The Baseball Shame Game

Long gone are Hammerin’ Hank Aaron
and The Say Hey Kid Willie Mays.
Now there are only Steroid Sammy Sosa
and Bulked Up Mark McGwire.
What the heck happened to our beloved baseball game?
It’s a hell of a thing! It’s a doggone shame!


Details | Narrative | |

A Land Bearing Green White Green

Which way leads to the 
land of green white 
green?
Which way are we 
heading?
   A country the wicked 
bears the rulership, and 
the people sighing 
continuously.
   A terrible thing sprouts 
beneath the sun: a 
pregnant woman 
delivering not.
Imps come to lime-light 
by snuffing air from the 
goose that laid the 
golden eggs.
The blind guiding the un
blind.
The weak suppressing 
the strong-a terrible 
thing.
Like the overthrow of the 
gods at Mt. Olympus by 
the Titans.
A country where also 
thieves appear as men of 
integrity.
Land of green white 
green,which way?
A land where the 
enlightened ones are 
overshadowed and 
peanuts given to them.
The masses are dogs that 
eat the crumbs.
 Which way to go you 
Land?
Iliterates stand on 
podium of power 
bellowing orders as milk 
of sorrow known as 
dividends of democracy 
is passed around.
The machine of progress 
manned by the 
unproductive.
"There is better 
tomorrow" we hear.
Land of green white 
green,my country 
where rule of law walk 
beside anarchy.
The proles are sentenced 
to adversity,and there 
endured death-like trials.
Chai! Aru! People 
dancing on thorns 
whimpering as they 
throng 
along.
  I see a new sun rising 
from the horizon,hope is 
rekindled as its rays 
grace on hopeless bodies.
 Look!! there soon be 
change!



Note: 
This 
is 
poem 
full 
of 
Nigeria 
political
 angst.


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The day they fell

The day they fell


He stands before the great woods
Arms stretched, bracing the storm of machines
They roar and bark, trying to break his wall
But he stays put, Save the Forests he screams

The tress stand tall, lush and green
Seedlings sprout, Flowers bloom
Animals frolic in their wonderland 
Is the forest really meeting it's doom?

He stands before the great woods
Protecting everything it confides
Many plants and animals are within
Away from the human eye they hide

Even if you have never seen them
Just take a step inside
The feeling of life the smell of grass
Do u really want them all to die?

The machines don't care 
Around the forest they continue to surround 
They have never seen the wind 
And never heard the sounds 
 
They never felt the wind against their faces
Never heard the rustling of leaves
Never seen the life in the forest
Never understood that it brings relief

Fire shoots up as the forest screams 
Roars and crackles follow too
Animals run, plants sink to the floor 
As the machine consumes the forests full

The trees spend decades growing up
The animals spend years moving in
But it only takes seconds to burn it down
To burn the forest into the size of a pin

What has the forest done he wonders 
As He stands in front of the orange blaze
To deserve this kind of torturous pain
With Heat and sorrow right in his face


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Midnight Again

Its midnight again, TV on
The sofa becomes my bed
As the confusion of our lives
Fills my weary head

At times I drift off
And think of days gone by
How I yearn for yesterday
So bad it makes me cry

Other times I feel just like a kid
With something new to share
And you put your soul around me 
And tell me how much you care

At times I think its working
Like I’ve finally met the mark
And all too quickly it ends
And I’m alone, on the couch, in the dark

Why can’t it all be the way it was
That day on top of the hill
Am I really as bad a person 
As you can make me feel


Inside I try so hard
Outside it seems I don’t
I want to meet your needs
But I don’t know what you want

I try to be your husband
Your lover and your friend
Somehow I never am
And I find myself here again

I try to be a father
But those efforts just backfire
Somehow I manage to destroy
Everything that I desire

I ask myself, “Is it worth it?”
Why don’t I start anew
And after hours of contemplation
Just one answer, “I love you”

And resolved to that end
I lay my heart to sleep
And I pray the lord
Our souls together he will keep

A silent kiss to you and the kids
In hopes of a better day
As I close my eyes to dream
And let my troubles drift away 


Details | Narrative | |

Things Change - Her Story

I went to the park anyway that day, knowing he would not come.

We had only met a few days ago but the connection was fast and strong.  We had dinner together the past three nights and talked late into the next morning.  Holding hands; sharing a kiss; and telling our life story to one another.

Today, we would take the next step.  I knew it.  He knew it.

The plans were that he would take the afternoon off – and the remainder of the week.  We were to share a picnic lunch in Central Park and then drive up to Kennebunkport for the next few days.  We had reserved only one room at the Bed and Breakfast we found in a regional traveling book.

It was a beautiful late summer morning.  The sun was already bright.  The skies were blue and clear.

I was so anxious to make the picnic lunch perfect that I started shopping for the ingredients as soon as the markets opened that morning.

I rode the subway to my favorite wine store with a smile pasted on my face.  I walked to the deli from there with a dance in my step.  I was so happy that I felt like I could fly.

Yes, I thought … I could fly.  Fly like the birds.  Fly across the big, beautiful, blue sky.  Fly.  Just like that low flying plane that passed over my head … minutes before my world; his world; our world – changed forever.

I knew he worked on the 104th floor.  That was a part of his life’s story he had shared with me two nights ago.

The city was both full of chaos and commotion and yet, ominously quiet and solemn.  

Motion everywhere.  People walking; running; standing still in shock.  People crying; gasping; talking to themselves; and, stunned into silence.  Cars all going in one direction – away from Downtown.

Although I didn’t know – I knew.

I went to the park anyway that day, knowing he would not come.

I laid out the blanket.  Spread out the food.  Opened the bottle of wine.

People hurried past me, looking at me look I was a fool.  Some asked me if I didn’t know what was happening.  I knew.  I knew.

I still have not been to Kennebunkport.  


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My Hidden Fear

People are my weakness and hidden fear
I just feel that some words they say set me in tear
For example I gave a person a smile one day and they gave me a glare
I did not know that smiling in the world today cause people to stare
These types of stare gave me chills down my spine a feeling that made me blind
Why? why is my weakness the people who are very unkind
Hiding is all I can do when people give me a unkind view
I get to a point that my fear seems to wonder and stew
People are who they are and what should I even do
I don't understand that they are evil and some times nice too
My hidden fear are people just because they are always around
That is no argument and my feeling are perfectly sound
The hate builds up in my mind, but does not bother, how my heart feel
I learned to undergo a change that my feelings become like steel
Hard as it should be in situations needed I forget how to use it
So it becomes my weapon and it is to some people heartless just a bit
My hidden fear is what I see in people today
They harm others and they think it is okay
That is why I fear my feelings for others at times because it is so confusing
My hidden fear is some what bad and some what a blessing


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A Soul Awakened

The warm light calls me
And all the people who cries for thee
I raise my hand in this abyss
Only to make one wish
To float among the others
With all my sisters and brothers
I call out for forgiveness with passion
I take their pain into myself for this occasion
The moment that I see the sky
I will not look back and cry
My body is laying still
People standing by it with a chill
The air gets dense with sadness
I would not think of it less
Some people look up and down
To see the light hit the ground
Some can vision the uplifting feeling they see
One soul that has been and always be
It is special to notice such aberration 
And that might be how souls are awaken


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Losing Someone to Cancer

I did speak with them, seemed very confused.

Apparently from what I have been told,
the cancer has gotten worse, and has 
began invading the rest of the body…

The hospice nurse doesn’t,
think they will be with us much longer…

They don’t know where they are living, can't 
remember me seeing them recently, can't 
remember me talking with them yesterday...

I know that this is very depressing news,
and if it weren't for friends and family,
I would be going crazy…

For it is hard to lose a loved one,
whether it be family or friend…

Since we don't know, when that fateful day
will happen, we can only take it one day at a time,
I only hope and pray that they won't suffer, I would
 rather see them be in a coma, and not have 
the pain and suffering…

I know that sounds harsh, however,
I don't want them to suffer, I want them
 to go in there sleep….

By Sandra L. Hoban
©2007


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The Final Confessions II

These were my confessions
(A message to God)
The light begins to fade
(It’s time to go)
Back into the shadows
(That hard black fog)
Where darkness has its way
(God rest your soul)

Nothing left to tell you
(It’s all been said)
No more songs to write
(This silent Fall)
Nothing left to offer 
(The well’s been bled)
From a shadow’s waning life
(Who lost it all)

Take my words and hold them
(Don’t be afraid)
Place them near your heart
(And heal your pain)
Shadow words will kiss you
(And heal your pain)
When your world turns dark
(Don’t’ be afraid)

And I kiss you
Kiss you
I kiss you in the dark……..


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A little girl and her plastic bag

Yesterday while on my way to a supermarket I saw a little girl of perhaps five leaning at
a tree close to the road and watching a blue plastic bag which was drifting in the wind.
She looked very sad with her light blue eyes and her blond hair streamed out behind her.
The bag was lifted by a strong blast and I ran after it, crossing the road. A car came and
stopped, waiting for me to cross the road. A younger man on the other side of the road saw
that I wanted to catch the bag and he was also running after it, but the wind drifted the
bag far over the lawn up hills. After some unsuccessful attempts to get hold of the bag he
finally could grab it. I went to him and he gave me the bag and smiled. I then told him
that a little girl was sad about losing that bag. He wished me a nice weekend and I
returned to that little girl still standing near the tree but this time smiling. She shyly
whispered "Thank you", took the bag and ran to her little playmates waiting for her
anxiously in the background. 


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FOES AND FRIENDS

FOES AND FRIENDS (D’SCRIPT)


It all happened so sudden and so perfect
Just like a script, no single line was missed
Just like a stage, everybody played their own part
It was a free role; everybody was free to play their best part
To the best of profession; the drama went so professionally
In this stage, the protagonist made the decision of his worst fears
He chose the path of slaying every single dragon that is haunting him
He started off with the little dragons that breathe no fire but haunts him
It didn’t start off well and it ended up so tragically a movie
In the very end; Foes got separated from friends.

Many antagonists; one protagonist
So many things to endure; one heart
Endurance became too much a burden
In a twinkle of an eye, it all exploded
Intimidation got in line, no more patience
It is a war; a fight for pride and self-redemption
Friendship torn apart, there is no let go
Everybody was right but someone was wrong
To every right thing; the wrong tongue made a speech
In the very end; Foes got separated from friends.

Fate does not have an escape; it’s a final destination
Fate plays its role to the end; it’s a ghost protocol mission
Sometimes it is good the bad things happen and something new learnt
To every bad situation, there is a good lesson; that’s what I meant
Friendship is more expensive to money; thought the wise said so
In trouble, money the issue, friends run away; the fool proved so
There will always be misunderstandings; cases will always be settled
To some misunderstandings, no understanding; some cases can’t be settled
Everything will never be the same as before even if the friendship continues
Foes and Friends; The script still continues…


																		…Lordvip…
															


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The Woes Of Trust

An angel formed from 
lake of purity,a gift to 
mankind-illuminating 
darkest parts of hearts.
A chaste damsel,
untouched rose from the 
garden of the elves.

Sent to earth,made an 
abode in a gentleman's 
heart,whom she 
cherished and loved.

As time travelled,another 
fella whom she trusted 
lured her to un-saintly act
Her pride laid on altar of 
dishonor and infidelity.
Her life she almost 
snuffed,she feared the 
love of her true love 
would be lost. Alas! bond 
of love is indivisible.

Shattered,with a broken 
spirit she tries to mend 
the pieces....on the 
shoulder of her lover she 
leans,hoping to soothe 
her bruised heart.



Note:
A true story,a close 
pretty lady friend of mine 
was raped by her family 
friend yesterday...who 
called her and told her 
his mum was very sick.
She called me and 
confided in me .
Don't know whether to 
encourage her to call the 
police.


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Fragment

There was scent of a fire in the call of the wind from a few blocks away, I could smell it today... someone burning a pile, in this first day of fall Leaves and debris, with smoke on the bend It darkened the sky of the September light with fragments of char, as dark as the night It drifted our way, and into the breeze, and it lifted the ash that caught in the fray, bits fluttering down then, onto our lawn, with fringes of gray A scrap from the classifieds, of newspaper ads A fragment, not burned, with a portion so sad just a singe on the edge, on the fringe of my day I read of a query....and I dreaded the end I read someone's worry, our lives have been crossed the smoke-tinged picture, I held in my hand was instant and sure, of a pet that was lost ~ We had thought her just shy, found in the road we had teased her with play, and asked all around and a with a few passing days.....she had found a new home right here in our hearts, becoming our own A name we had chosen, she came when we called but today ...now I know, she is not ours, at all... The wind off the river gusting paper and leaves fragments of yesterday fluttering our way........spinning on down, every twist and each turn changing the moment......without being heard Small bitter pieces are coming our way changing small fragments, and the heart of today.
______________________________________________ For The Contest: "Fragment" sponsored by Broken Wings 9/10/13


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Black Widow

There’s a dark place
Dawn has never been
Only pain can see
Deep within
I hear your candle
Drips of discontent
Your beaded breaths
Night's naked din
Thoughts grow cold
Scent grows dim
Window of hope
Cracking within
I feel your footsteps
Your cheek against mine
Rain bled palms
The emptiness of wine
Rust creeks by
Shadow grows thin
Dust of tomorrow
Deadbolted within
If I learned to speak
If you broke my fall
Could I touch your face
Widow on my wall


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A Narrative Of A Falling Leaf

An ancient farmer

Perches in the kitchen window

Watching November gallop.

His wife's dementia is in the living room.

He was harvesting

When she thought her husband,

The farmer, was her dead brother.

Now she has forgotten

How to drink tea from a cup.

He watches

    The leaf

            Tumble.


During Indiana-August,

Heavy in air,

His wife remembered his birthday.

Her mind was only tired back then.

His crops were fibrous and green. 

     The leaf 

            Suspended.


It was a profitable year.

The farmer had money for doctors,

It wasn't that.

There are some things that just happen out of order.

Her mind, a rotting jack-o-lantern left

On the front porch in late November,

White fuzz outlined her eyes.

But her body would remain,

Reminding him of what he once had.

There was a presence of wind.

The farmer will make a sandwich.

And feed it to her,

She will yell

In her insanity. He will say,

“You like this, remember?”

But she doesn't

and never will.

Awake in bed

He hopes

That soon,

Maybe tomorrow,

The persistent leaf 

Will lie down onto the cold Earth. 


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Boat Of Poverty

Why this boat?
Could it be boat of destitution?
Conveying Epidemics, Hunger, Rags,
Malnutrition and Illiteracy.

Descend from me!
Banish from my world!
You cursed word!
You that called education a"Privilege"!
Patrimony of ghetto!

W.H.O called you "Lion of Africa",
U N called you "Agenda ".
Predicament to black,
Livelihood to white.

Harking to conviction,
Capsize and raise no more.
For "Black Rose" to smile again
On the land of plenty.


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The Woman In White

It was a cold and rainy night.
The stars were shining bright.
It seemed as if the world was at a pause and not a person was in sight.
I sat quietly in my car, 
the sound of music I heard blasting from a far.
I opened my door,
stepped out slowly and looked around.
Now suddenly the music stopped,
not a word is heard, not even a sound.
I turned my head, looked over my shoulder,
I saw a woman running.
She was wearing a white gown.
I couldn't help but wonder why this woman running
flaunted such a frown.
I followed her footsteps,
I listened for the sound.
Running through the darkness,
one question came to mind,
Who would leave this woman?
Who would be so heartless?
How can someone leave her when she is so obviously distraught?
Abruptly a sound was heard.
I came to a stop.
I listened closely.
It was a gunshot.
Now fearful I stood.
I began to run as fast as I could.
I ran so fast, I could hear my heart beating.
I came upon my car and noticed a woman bleeding.
She was gasping for air.
Someone had shot her and left her to die there.
It was as if they didn't even care.
She reached for my hand,
whispered softly to me
"never trust a man"
At that moment her hand dropped.
I knew her heart had stopped.
I looked at her white gown now dripping red.
I I cried to myself and pondered what she had said.
This could be me.
I could be lying here dead.
I will remember her words always.
They will haunt me for the rest of my days.
This moment I will never forget.
No man should ever be such a threat.

This was the day my life would change.
From this day on I would never be the same.
The lesson I learned here,
never have such fear.
Fear that will keep me from being free.
I learned that I can be happy just being me.


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Christmas Rebels

Christmas Rebels
It was about a weak
After that night walk
The unknown dangers, 
Made known, turned me weak,
I was managing myself,
After my heart was pulled,
From where it sank,
I was yet in the oven,
Of my haven,
To dry up the coldness,
And the wetness, 
Of that fearful night loneliness,

Today is Christmas,
The whole mass,
Was joyous,
Every home, glorious,
Meat was plenteous, 
Rice and beans.
Was every homes means,
Children bouncing in,
New goat skin jackets,
Mother’s dressed in costly
Beads and all the way,
Father leads.
For Christmas had taking over,
Taking over the African Shrine,
It supplied a joyous sunshine.
Our pockets were full of cowries,
Like a goldmine,
Happiness was mine,
For the usual war seemed 
To be hidden, and our teethes where like, 
“Forever opened”.

Oh! Joyful, blissful, plentiful Christmas.
Providing joy each time it surface, 
But joy has a slender waist that breaks so soon.
Christmas night came, so we visited 
Our beds as night rang it’s bell,

(To be continued in the next, same Poem).


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My Legacy

My ancestors came here long ago
Tough and strong not weak
But somewhere down along the line
Something went terribly wrong
And now I have to sit here and deal with my legacy
Of not what I thought it would be
Not where I choose to be right now
The legacy that’s me.

I can’t escape the past
The memories seem to last
Of the horrors of what has come before
The graveyard is the place
I can see it on my face 
My family’s legacy of suicide 
is haunting me.

My generational legacy
Is it going to kill me
Or will it just let sleeping dogs lie 
And allow me to exist
Will it allow me to just to see
The me that I am meant to be
To live beyond my years
To grow beyond the tears
To handle all my fears
To defy what could have been
My legacy.

(November 13, 2010 Wausau, Wisconsin)

(c) Copyright 2010 by Christine A Kysely, All Rights Reserved 


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Nine Eleven

The old woman argued relentlessly, her case.
Resolute, she raved in her conviction; 
two thousand and one reasons were there for her to be mad.
Eleven was given to questioning eyes.

It was September, 
and Bernice brought home the bourgeois man, 
and the two fell 
from the pedestal
they held among friends in the big city, 
(the city) a melting pot, 
now a city in affliction.

Bernice’s brown eyes combed the neighborhood; 
two boys, with open arms, 
played aero planes; 
Across the street,
the rug pilot laughed his ass off 
as if mocking the bourgeois man,
and his woman hid her face in rags …, 
in degradation – 
but her sad eyes openly mourned her son’s suicide.

Grief of that magnitude brings offense, 
and the bourgeois man was red with wrath, 
and he abhors the old woman 
with every inch of his being. 
Racism was reversed.
He avowed by God to ruin the rug pilot, 
and the people that loved him consented. 

Hearts were left to wonder
what makes men so cruel.
The reasons for the old woman’s rant was explicable, 
and of the grounds for the revenge 
the negros conceded, 
in only one instance. 
Revenge was foreseeable, 
and the spirit breeds more phobias.


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Misunderstood

The rain slides off my hair,

soaking me wet.

The sky seems to be crying over me,

I don't care.

In the middle of nowhere,

without no soul to speak with.

Should I embrace my fear?

Tears are coming,

though not mine.

But I await my fate,

inpatient for all to end,

not worried for ones deathly drop.

I never had my laughing days on this smiling planet,

nor smiled at gracing sunsets.

No need for me to be where I have my wrongly self being,

in a world that doesn't want me in it!

Can't I be free?

escape, without it not labelled a sin?

My words doesn't breach a sound!

Am I bound to disappear with just one argument?

I now don't feel the need to fear,

useless waste from above.

But I do regret for what soon my breathless body didn't become,

maybe in the end it'll turn out to be all I was.

They will finally see,

a lost poet.

Instead you'll be seeing tears in my lifeless eyes,

like fallen old crusty papers,

with no expressions,

nor emotions of any kind that suits your almighty mind,

for ever no sense.

Throw away my heart and mind into dark flames of hell!

Feel my fury from the heat of not understanding!

All vanished within my last dying breath.

Don't cry for me,

cry for yourself.

Dead writing,

like me forever,

I was........

Misunderstood.


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A Lover's grief

A Lover’s grief

I was, all alone, in the life,
Passing my worthless time,
You came and sat by me
My heart did a worthy crime.
I thought of you, days and nights,
Planned with you, shades and lights,
My heart felt promising you,
My beloved guest, in all tough moments,
Please trust on this caring host, 
I will be there to think of you.


Then we met, again and again,
Just to make, our bonds strong,
It seemed, as if, my tuneless life,
Started humming, a lovely song,
Those moments were such sweet and cute,
I forgot, that life’s character, is to be brute,
You shared your sorrows with me,
I assured you, don’t worry, my dear!
Whether, it be spring or frost,
I am there to think of you.


In midway, you left my hand,
Invisible, were the ways for me,
Timeless, were my lengthy nights,
Hazy, were the days for me.
The last dry leaf of autumn that year,
Got wet of my despaired eye’s tear,
When you held someone else’s hand,
Desolated me, rejected me, and my dreams,
And said “get lost”,
I were there to think of you. 


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L o n e r

I am lonely.

It's not an obsession,
or an art,
or a choice.

I am just lonely,

by default.


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VIOLATED

 HELP! HELP!
 She is sinking,
 Sinking into the abyss of despair.
 Her brain is striken And her mind is stifled.
 She has been enervated.
 Her integrity is being manipulated,
 Irrationality acts as spring board to moral decadence,
 Opacity then entangles her efficiency
 While her eminence sleeps.
 She became vulnerable.
 Poor thing, she is raped, maimed and looted.
 Has she not been violated?
 Does her plight warrants a revolution?
 However, she demonstrated.
 She shrilled,
"No!", "No!"
 She pleaded with her predators.
 All these were to no avail
 Her future seems gloomy
 As the predators succeeded in orchestrating yet another tragedy.
 Engulfed in this evident realm of adversity.
 She sits and ponders
 With tears flooding her miserable cheeks.
 She then cried,
 HELP! HELP!
 I am sinking,
 Sinking into the abyss of despair.


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'Refracting Reflections'


REFRACTING REFLECTIONS 

"Imagine a lovely garden, tea for two, and this story . . . "

All the barriers broken down
Nothing left to shelter it, 
Her heart now exposed 

The first time in years
She has left it all bare,
Unlike all the other times
When the excuses piled up 
Before it even started

“Why would you do things differently, this time around? 

She looked at me, with a puzzled face

“I don’t know” was her reply
Maybe I need to see what will happen
If I let things be -

Not let my fears
 be my principle decision maker

just take the plunge,
I might find that little rainbows 
Lead to bigger things
Moments of happiness
Or even love
That has eluded me…

Maybe I am ready now
To embrace 
Not having control
Over my emotions
Whatever they might be - 

I looked at her, 
Holding back tears   

With just one wish,
That I would be as brave 
As her one day,

That the mirror image 
I see, be 
Reflective in me

Maybe that day is closer 
Then what you might think

The echo came - 

It may only be 
a breath away… 


Refracting Reflections
By Wilma N. Neels
Contest Name : I Fancy another Sad Poem
Date: 15/08/2011


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Reminiscence

Prologue:
For whoever think story telling is that easy,
Would properly from this hilarious incident,
scene or whatever you might call it, would know is not.

                             *****************

Just some couple of months ago, I was invited
by a friend who knows me too well, back then in 
school as a funny guy and story teller and so he taught this
night, that his grand pa (who is a famous story teller 
of his village) had fall sick, I would be in a better position
to cover up for his father's so called responsibility
to his people. "For he (my friend's father, Williams) is a good story teller.
But what about me who has never faced 
the ample crowd with my 'cripple' tale unless sharing it with friends?" I mumbled.

In the middle of this enigma, my friend, John called me to the hot seat
to tell my tale to the unbearable crowd of adolescence. 

"God why am I here this day... But it shouldn't have been this day" I retorted.
The barbarian noise from the seats infront of me showed that truly I was 
in the middle of something and not lost...

"Uncle tell us a story!... Brother tell us a story!" the crowd shouted.

This day, I needed a free moment but they couldn't let me be.
"Once upon a time" they heard me said and they all resited.
" I am sorry, I am sorry let me restart it all over again".

Now in old man's voice, I told my tale before them:

"Once upon a time,
In our mothers' womb, when she
Ate, we ate. Goodnight!"

They all cannot but burst to laughter while I stood and walked to the room with my 
shame.
                                   
                                *****************

Anything after good night means nothing more till the next day.
Maybe I escaped the night by dissatisfying the emotions of those children,
in that scene, what about my friend? 
"Have I not brought shame to John's family? Did I do the 
right thing that full moon night?". My heart beats!

                               *****************

Epilogue:
Not even do the audience remember or care to ask me: (In kid's voice)
"What if my mother do not eat while in my pregnancy, what will happen to her?" or 
probably care to tell me: (Back to old man's voice) "What lesson they have derived from 
the tale before their departure... Oh! No sorry, my bashful departure from their sight." 

Note: The tale: "Once upon....Goodnight!" is a Haiku form of poetry.  
 














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Physically and Mentally Abuse

I was born in a world of poverty and soiled life of a third world country
The way I lived till I was five years of age was walls of boundary
These walls had towers of guards that had no heart or care
If a child would try to climb the wall they lose their life I swear

Father had drank and threatened my mother with a knife
My father lost his job and wife and that was the hardship of life
He stopped my mother from taking off with me in her arm
Hoping that my father would ignore and left me be with no harm

When my father went off to drink one night and came home with rage
My brothers stood by my crib and took a beating that set up the next stage
My father had woken up to three scared children half starved and in pain
His final words as he walk away from the orphanage gate live life do not go insane

I was still a baby in the orphanage; the caretakers did not really care about the babies
They stole items and materials those wicked men and maternal evil ladies
They starved all the babies because it cost a lot to keep them alive
As a child of that age I could feel the sins and greed that gave out bad vibes

I was ignorant about what I drank and ate, as I see white maggots move in my bottle
As I see them move I thought about how they were playing and some were hostel
They ate each other to keep each other alive in a manner that took me by surprise
In the back round I hear others throwing things with sounds of painful cries

I got very strong at a young age I was able to start pulling myself up over the cage
My feelings were to see my brothers with strong lungs that I cried out of rage
My two brothers came to see me and sneak food into my crib
The caretaker would find the food in my hands as they grabbed it and hit me on my ribs

As painful as it was I kept eating the food with blood in my mouth as it was instinct
I sometimes laid in my crib dazed and confused with smell of death so distinct
With all my might I kept myself strong and climb the small wall
I finally was old enough to get out of the building and I could hear my brothers call

With tears of joy with short legs that ran as fast as my heart
I ran to my brothers arms and held their hands to have a new start
I grew stronger everyday but more things came into my life in a manner of dismay
If my brothers stay by my side I could smile and everyday their would be okay



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EARTH PAINS

A perfect abode
A perfect dwelling
Crafted for mankind
The paradise on earth
Until they came…

Brothers of the league
Vicious and hostile
Pitiless and heartless
They are called “pain”
They are a terror

The first flows hot
Burning and frying 
Anything in his path
Caring for none
But its freedom

Its brother in one roar
Cracking open the face of earth
Pulling its victims down
And tearing limbs from flesh
A quick temper

Another, always in a massive rush
Drowning and destroying set ups
Dare to stand in his way?
He rushes past you
Taking you all the way… down!

Their sweep is massacre
Even the earth suffers
Proof they take along
It doesn’t look like;
They are stopping anytime soon.


© Naa Takia, All Rights Reserved 2012


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The Destruction of My Home

It was a quiet, peaceful morning in the vast meadow.
I could hear the thump of hooves as other deer grazed in the valley below,
but across the sea of grass, a sight I feared,
two burly men slowly neared.

I dashed for the woods hoping my herd would do the same,
for the men, I could see, quickly came.
Like cracks of lightning, their gunshots fired.
The safety of the forest, I really desired.

As quickly as it came, the mayhem subsided.
Where I was to go was still undecided.
I moved through the forest with plenty of caution,
trying to ignore my shattering exhaustion.

Suddenly I found the scent of something burning.
My brief moment of peace was rapidly turning.
As I got closer to the source of the smell,
I saw that the men were to blame for this tragedy that was soon to befell.

Their campsite was set ablaze, for they left their fire going.
Now all their belongings were eaten by the fire without them actually knowing.
The flames quickly spread to the trees overhead.
If I didn’t leave soon, in no time I’d be dead.

I swiftly ran from the site,
as the billowing smoke began to block the sunlight.
Everywhere I looked, there were trees on fire.
To escape this inferno is what I aspire.

I finally made it to the safety of the lake,
wondering how much more trauma I’d be able to take.
I sat there watching my home being destroyed.
Leaving my abode, I had always tried to avoid.

The furious fire blazed for hours to come.
I saw the effect of the fire, and it was gruesome.
The pain of the upshot was an arrow in my side.
None of these animals should have ever died.

I was so tired I could have slept for a year.
If I could cry, I would have already shed a tear.
Oh the tragedy! Oh the despair!
How I wish mankind would learn to use fire a little with more care.


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Mourning Over The Locust Plaque

Some sounds like the noise of bees
Hovering around the atmosphere
Or like rain drops on our roof tops,
I opened my round window
The window of my hut,
I wanted to know
Why my sleep won't mellow,
All i saw was sorrow
As the atmosphere turned green.
The cassava farm was over shadowed
Banana plantation feebled,
Apple orchard struggled
Yet their efforts stifled,
Lemon grass for mama's herb withered,
Rose flower shattered and our 
Groundnut farm tattered.
Suddenly,the green army fled,
Tears exuded from my eyes
As i sputtered in pain,
Mother filled with melancholy,
Father tore his heart in grief
Villagers hope captured and crippled,
So their travail displayed as
Everyone mourned over 
The locust plaque.....



BY: CHARLES MELODY (LIGHTNING INK).   


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LADY OF THE NIGHT - II

Dreaming of a pot of gold, you came to town
It was sprawling, this metropolis, you knew none around
Your earnings were scant and engagements, irregular
The overseer assured steady income in lieu of a favour
You succumbed to ward off uncertainties, and gradually sank deeper

You were born of impoverished stock, high up in the Himalayas
Your clean looks and youthful age were your kin’s panacea
Your home, the arid plains, where land is mostly barren
Starvation a reality, your innocent world was broken
When it comes to sacrifice, inevitably you are chosen

You were a country girl, pubescent and barely thirteen
Travelling to the big city with a distant kin
To serve an urban family with mop and pail
A drug laced cup of tea made you vulnerable to a cartel
You woke, imprisoned, in a dingy room of a highway brothel

Battered and beaten and raped to submission
You forgot the gods and your daily oblation
Your escort paid dearly for his betrayal and malice
Was it your homage to the gods or backstreet justice?
You languish now in jail, but the brothel still exists

You were in your second year, studying BA (Honours)
With a weakness for the life of the upper class
And the knowledge to achieve what you felt, you must
The initiation was debasing – no niceties, just frenzied lust
The payment was in cash –the first time wasn’t the last

You are not alone in your tainted existence
Women arriving at the metropolis in suburban trains
Working by day and exiting before the peak hour rush
Living in opulence, in times past – barely middle class
Very discreet, these devil women and financially flush

You conceived, a professional risk, and the baby you resolved to keep
Now nineteen and actively trafficking, his misdeeds make you weep
His latest catch, a tender ten year old, the same age you were shackled
Your flesh and blood, the son, you had mothered from the cradle!
Your agony was incomplete, now it had completed its cruel cycle

Hail lady of the night
With time, you’ve overcome both fear and fright 
And blended the distinction between wrong and right
You’ve lost your vision, though you retain your sight
In a world shrouded in darkness where the sun still shines bright
 


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A Lover's grief

A Lover’s grief

I was, all alone, in the life,
Passing my worthless time,
You came and sat by me
My heart did a worthy crime.
I thought of you, days and nights,
Planned with you, shades and lights,
My heart felt promising you,
My beloved guest, in all tough moments,
Please trust on this caring host, 
I will be there to think of you.


Then we met, again and again,
Just to make, our bonds strong,
It seemed, as if, my tuneless life,
Started humming, a lovely song,
Those moments were such sweet and cute,
I forgot, that life’s character, is to be brute,
You shared your sorrows with me,
I assured you, don’t worry, my dear!
Whether, it be spring or frost,
I am there to think of you.


In midway, you left my hand,
Invisible, were the ways for me,
Timeless, were my lengthy nights,
Hazy, were the days for me.
The last dry leaf of autumn that year,
Got wet of my despaired eye’s tear,
When you held someone else’s hand,
Desolated me, rejected me, and my dreams,
And said “get lost”,
I were there to think of you. 


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Dead Winter

I still remembered that night
the snow was heavy and unusually white.
We gathered around the fireplace,
Momma was sharing her Christmas grace.

Daddy went home and brought us presents
Momma stopped her story and away she went
out into the snowy streets 
buying us winter treats.

It has passed dinner and she’s not home.
Our stomach started to ache and roam.
Daddy began to worry,
and away he went in a hurry.

Me and Anna were still inside
looking through the window with eyes opened wide.
Then Anna started to cry,
I was still wondering why
until I saw a shadow in the foggy snow.
Anna squeezed my hand and wouldn’t let go.

A squeak, a squeal - 
a spinning wheel
down the hill
that’d thrill and kill.

It came clashing and crashing
through the glaciers it went bashing
through our door it was breaking, 
left us all shaking and quaking.

We did not restrain
the shrieks and tears weren’t feigned.

Next morning the neighbors came
and told us that momma and daddy weren’t the same.
I followed them and what I saw
with only a glance made me drop my jaws.

There, two coffins neatly laid
“Uncertain causes” was clearly sprayed.
I laughed and thought I just got played
but grief suddenly fell when the priest prayed.
Nobody helped when I fell limp on the floor
as they carried my parent’s bodies through the shattered door.

From that day on there wasn’t winter anymore.
Snow were redder than red – the color of gore.
Their tombstones were always cold solid steel
and if you came close you’d feel:
A squeak, a squeal - 
a spinning wheel
down the hill
that’d thrill and kill.


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For Now It Is My Time

For now it is my time,
I can see the light just ahead;
I don't know what is going to happen,
But I can tell someone's heart is filled with dread.

The angel came to me,
She told me it was time to go;
She took me by the hand,
it was by then I knew it was so.
She whispered, "Don't worry,
It'll be okay;
For all that was left behind,
will be with you again someday."
With a nod of my head,
and a tear down my cheek;
She looked at me,
as she continued to speak.

"My little one,
don't be so sad;
Once you are home,
your heart shall be glad."

For now it is my time,
and I never dared to question why;
I have reached the gates of heaven,
and I didn't have a chance to say goodbye.

For all is in the past,
and so are you;
If only I could go back,
and tell you how much I love you.
Please, don't cry, we'll meet again,
I'm promising you this;
I'll be waiting for you,
Here, home in heaven.
In heaven it was him that I saw,
The Almighty Father;
He opened his arms out to me,
as he started to move his jaw.
He looked down at me,
I couldn't think of a word to say;
And as he spoke,
I started to convey.

He said, "Welcome, little one,
I knew this day would come;
And now that you're here,
I will share my words of wisdom.
I've watched as you've done wrong,
you know this is true;
But I'm happy to see you here with me,
and I have forgiven you.
For this life now is eternal,
and tomorrow is gone;
Your old life will be nothing,
I promise you by dawn."

He wrapped his arms around me, 
and ran his fingers through my hair;
He held me tight,
and started to say a prayer.

Once he was finished,
he looked at me again;
He told me, "Dear child,
won't you stay with me in heaven?"

I looked behind me,
taking a glance at my past;
I'm thinking of you while I'm gone,
and in my heart that's where you'll last.

For now it is my time,
for this I will believe;
I will go on about my business,
and I shall take my leave.


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Dedication to Everyone

I feel that I have found a home in this cyberspace
with full of hearts and ideas in a special place
I wonder of all the people in the world to make me smile
with antics that help me grow in every mile
I do want to say to all of the people with respect
because of all of you my mind is not in a wreck
I would lie if I did not get ideas from all of you
without you my poems would not come true
I bless everyone with care 
with kindness and without dis-pare
I hold my hands high and put them together
with this I bless you with good weather
I do read some of the poems that people put out
sometimes I feel with out a doubt
I feel the pain in the poems that some has revealed
with hopes that they can read with their mind not sealed
I smile a bunch with every word
it is like a music in my head making a cord
I do want you all to know that you have made my day
to be a better day in every different array
I cherish my time with all the people in my heart
the words flow in my mind is just but a start
I'm happy with everyone in PoetrySoup.com 
with hardship that came this cyberspace makes me calm
I cannot choose five cause if I do I don't think it's right
just to tell you that is just my own insight
I thank all for helping me grow with all the poems that are shown
with faith and humor, with views of kindness this site has grown

If I had to say or dedicate my poems to who 
would be the first five who reads my poems with a point of view


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Opposites in Love collabaration

The crashing waves hit the bow, as we cut through waters deep.
Clasped in irons that cut the skin; forged in the fires that never sleep.

The desert was dry, the sun beat down, I am free as a bird
The breeze tickled through the oasis, near the camel herd

Now my love is fading, like the burnt embers of those flames.
I am now branded a thief and prisoner, amongst some other names.

The hate I felt for the whore that tried to give his love to me.
Was so strong I felt I could kill him, my love he will never see.

I stole for her a flower, a simple heart felt gift.
The perfume now a memory, on this prison galleon adrift.

I am traveling to my wedding, across the desert so hot and dry.
Perfumed flower petals along the way, by slaves are scattered awry.

Seven years the price for my gift of love it did gain.
Hard labour I endure, to avoid the leather cat pain.

My arms are full of bracelets, and pearls hang round my neck.
I never think of him, now shackled on that deck.

Her kisses sublime, a memory fading, the perfume of her skin and hair
The price is high but I will pay, I took her from him to be fair.

To think I could have kissed. him makes my skin fairly crawl.
But the plan worked well, for my new rich lover, it managed to enthrall.

Slaves to love, there is no choice, when our hearts lead us astray.
I stand here windswept and tear stained, with seven years to pay.

How dry my eyes now he has gone, freedom is beckoning me.
So easy it was to frame him, now he has seven years before he is free.

I stand in the wind, rope in hand, waves crashing all around.
My ankles are bleeding with the chains, and the cat makes a whistling sound.

I lay on cushions with rings on my fingers the slaves are fanning me.
My wrists are bathed in rose oil, and kissed perpetually.

My love is strong, my heart is given, and I know I will endure. 
My love will wait for me, my beauty, my life, my own sweet amour.

Thank goodness I kept my heart for me, and for me alone. 
This thing called love is foolish, my heart it has never known.

In collaboration with Declan Fitzgerald who started the story off which made it easy to alternate my side of the story as a femme fatale between his couplets.


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My Downfall

Power and Control was my destiny, I rose from the bottom.
Hoping to become more powerful than you could ever imagine.
But you were my only hope of stopping my madness and hatred.
My passion and love for you was my downfall, it was all for you.
Now I clinch the remains of you, what have I done?
Am I a disgrace, or a foul, for falling so low to you?
I love you, but it seems, the same cannot be said for you.
I killed to be with you, and let this blood be shed.
A reminder that my rise to power, came with its loss.
Let this loss be the the Dagger that I hold.
A dagger of love, which these hands still clinch.
A dagger which shall be the death of me, as it was to you.
  


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Son of the Morning

Once, he had the most brilliant light
In Heaven, he'd been the star even at night
The most favored, the most beautiful
He never thought one day he'd become a fool

He was always pure, never felt insecure
Until Heaven borne one special creature
And the angels cried, the angels wondered
What would happen if they are no longer favored?

Angels watched as Heaven gave the man a special woman
My beloved one walked away, flame in his hand
Why the special gift for a man made in soil?
That was when anger and envy started to boil

The most beautiful star sat alone in silence
Heaven's in peace, can he dare start a violence?
Yes, he would for the love of Heaven
So he called all his beloved brethren

War would never do good for anyone
He knew from the sight of blood in his hands
And stared at the ground where his brethren laid
From the bloody battle, my beloved angel turned away

His wings unfurled, made of pure Heaven and glory
They were as black as night, magnificent and lovely
He made once last glance as he begun to descend
He knew he made a mistake he could never amend

It was his nature, no other pleasure than flying
But his heart broke knowing that he's falling
He landed to the ground, broken and wounded
Tears from his eyes, he felt ashamed and abandoned

He stood alone in the middle of the night
His wings dimmed, slowly fading its light
For the first time, he felt the rain on his skin
And for the first time, he shivered from the coldness of the wind

He looked up and saw his brethren
Why did they follow him, he's a Fallen
They bowed their heads, still loving him
So he decided, He's Lucifer and no longer the Son of the Morning


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BROKEN TIES

Stones of life, Pebbles of destiny
Round, smooth or rough
They told the future

Weeds and grass
Leaves of shrubs
They all had essence

We had been great
We were divine mould
Our hearts and bodies simply joined

Thinking to thoughts
Once too many times
Leaving dusts of doubts

Mist of secrets
Fog of lies
Ever unsettling

Clear as blues;
You never seemed
Never that vivid

Thick as dark clouds
Angry and tearing
You gathered quickly

Petals and thorns
Trees of breath
Birds of value

Opaque is you
Torn is me
Wrecked is us

That makes three
Three perfect words
Too perfect truly

Sun, moon and stars
Nothing left up there
Everyone’s gone

It is you; 
And me now
With all our ties broken!

©Naa Takia, All rights Reserved 2012


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Christmas Rebels (2).

But night’s bell came with tears and without love,
As our bamboo door talked,
“KNOCK! KNOCK!!”
Before my voice could speak,
Legs ruined down my door,
Then eyes in different heights
In the starry night like 
Torch lights… attacked 
Me with their voices.
They came in mass,
Some brandishing cutlass,
Some matchets, guns and arrows.
Gang upon gangs,
Displaying their flags,
Blood stained, tattered, hair, shaggy.
They held human heads for their 
Oracles of war.
They were muttering songs as if 
Forced to sing,
They had leaves and grasses in the 
Middle of their mouths, they were mostly teens, 
They were the Hausa rebels… 
“Wait! Wait!! Wait!!!
Where are the bells?
Is this day not Christmas?”
I was asking myself,
A short tick man came out of the mass,
Not looking like human,
He looked backed at the rest,
Feeling like the best.
He weakened my hear drums 
By the manner of his question,
“Hausa or Birom?”.
To send my religion to the bottom?
Whom for this day, is Christmas? 
And sweet Messiah’s Calvary at Golgotha?
I wasn’t prepared for that, 
So the truth came out like a blast
“Birom!!”.
“Yee! Yee!! Yee!!!
Enemy tribes” they shouted 
Like savage talking drums.

(To be continued in the next, same Poem).


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I WAIT FOR YOU DEATH

As you grow, happy moments shrink,
At some day, skin aches when you smile,
These are just ordinary lines, or
Maybe just exaggerated tales,
‘D thought so but no fraction of idea,
It could be real, as real as you dwell in it,
Just like another story,

How a freckled face glance down,
Why arched brows are falling down,
The crow lines of eyes say it,
When it aches to smile,
Wearing it which was disowned years back
Don’t spell or stare or nod,
May face lays as in absence of suspicion

Knot of rope around my neck, 
What changed or happened,
Somebody sprinkled dust on freshly painted canvas,
That Blush of youth _with self-indulged soul,
Beauty reflected in the eyes wide open,
Then agonizing hand interfered,
So made me wore this,
The face you don’t look at.

I have told enough, misery loses its grief,
If explained to satisfy that deaf ear,
Let it prevail, the dust,
Let me blacken myself in the stained canvas,
For that is what meant, and so,
Let this veiled face pray, in the shadow,
For the last breath, not for shrine,
Lived in mundanely and so did suffer,
Shall die in that ordinariness too,
If life asked you about my tiredness,
Don’t blame a name but a cure,
Which is desperately awaited, let her know.


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Regret Of Mine

I absolutely trust you, 
My heart has already engaged.
And you accepted it first time, 
Your heart was happy with the love.
Perharps now you started to change, 
From a champion to a loser.
You comfirmed my trust, then.
And you declained me now.
Why did you let me in? 
Since you dont want to hold me standstill.
Resistance, patience, tolerance….
You predicted to me by then.
Now you insist, 
You just abide saying “ayrilalim artik”
The words become very heavy, when I think of it, 
That I cant even resist it`s ampleness.
And all trust has disapeared, 
I try to forgive and forget…
And I see the forgiveness beneath to humbleness.
Then the forgetfulness is for the devils sometimes, 
By the other way is an excellent..
When I did all I became the generous, 
I won my heart delibrately, 
Then I told me that I am free now, 
Because I was many sleep ago in vain.
No pain anymore…


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Loneliness

Loneliness engulfs him
consumes him
like an arsons match
he ignites the bond
setting their relationship ablaze
now...that foundation
simply reduced to a pile of ash
in a distant haze

Loneliness entangles him
weaves thru him
like diseased roots of an aging tree
they wrap around his feelings
squeeze out emotion
and eventually choke the life
out of his reality

Loneliness is his soulmate
now...
and for all the years
joined together by selfishness and fate
at the expence
of someone else's tears
now, as the years drip away
they quietly disappear
leaving no trace
but landing ever so gently
and all to clearly
upon his lonely artificial face
though it's not by choice
that this partnership remains
but as a cruel reminder
of a love lost
and a heart tragically stained...

 


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Breathtaking Imperfections

 
First class brains
Streets populated with them
Flaunting certificates--useless
Plus innate knowledge practical,
But unrecognised
 
Tightfisted bourgeois;
Alienated job opportunities
Reserved for own kids born and unborn
Capitalism overblown;nauseous
Grab and keep philosophy elevated
Who do you know?Who don't you know?
Keys to haven
 
You could trudge to the Sahara,
Build sand dunes,clamber atop
To reach the top and maybe sunlight
Slight wind,and you are on the floor:
No foundations
Pack sands,feed on them
Who cares?
 
Hollow eyes witnessing a party
The favoured few,on Owambes
Overfed.Toothpicks in mouths
Dogs too,fed fat with flesh
Dogs now reject bones
Leftovers left to sour,thrown away
 
First class brains,crawl in dustbins
Vultures competing
Some days,vultures feed too
On first class brains' corpses
 
Hollow-eyed pleas.Unheeded
Gentle songs of plea,
Didn't make them yield
 
Clangs on empty sardine tins
Music violent,tempo risen
They glanced at them,and looked away
Then one day,hunger and anger fired desperation
Bread knives came in handy
Well-fed guts are carved apart
All energy used
 
Denouement.
 
The vultures came in the evening
And held a huge feast


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LISA'S IVORY MUSIC BOX

Many Christmas stories are told every year,
and many songs are sung with pure cheer;
do I have a good story, at least one, I can tell,
or a simple song I can hum and spread good will?


When Lisa's grandmother passed away unexpectedly...
by her dying bed she kept an ivory music box,
and to her lovely granddaughter she gave it
to saying," Take care of it, and smile when you think of me!"


The day after granny died, she went down the dark cellar
to hide the ivory music box in an old dresser's drawer,
and once in a while she would open it and play it and listen to it sadly;
the pretty angel swirled...and Silent Night played as Lisa touched it tenderly.


It was almost Christmas Day and the pine tree wasn't decorated yet,
she rushed outside carrying a red basket with ornaments in it;
how could she had forgotten to adorn it with bulbs and garlands?
" Oh gosh, I feel like the Grinch!"  she displeasingly uttered to herself. 


There was no snow predicted for that evening and the illuminated town
was lacking Nature's magical snowflakes to make it festive and vibrant;
five minutes to midnight the choir from the nearest church gathered outside,
and waited for a miracle...silence...tranquility...every heart felt so alone.


But Lisa with an indomitable spirit ordered them to sing, 
and they began singing looking up the clearest, starriest sky;
everyone seemed sad and some of them wanted to cry,
but before sadness set in...snowflakes began falling.


Lisa knew that it was the miracle she had been waiting for,
but something was missing from the snowy scenery...
she remembered her ivory music box she had put away,
and running, with awe in her bright eyes, she opened the cellar's door...


Clutched in her caring, careful hands, she carried the ivory music box,
laid it gently underneath the twinkling, scented Christmas Tree;
Lisa kissed it tenderly...until the golden angel started to swirl at midnight,
as that divine music filled the nippy air...making all cheeks so peachy.        


Copyright 2009 by Andrew Crisci


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My Last Week

If I had only a week yet to live in this mortal world,
I would first gather my family together and say my last goodbyes.
Then I would travel to Washington D. C.
and visit the Vietnam Memorial Wall,
to shed the tears I have never cried.
While there I would go to Arlington Cemetery,
to give a final salute to the boys who died so young.
I’d hail a cab to take me to the airport to catch a plane
and fly to California and piss on Nixon’s grave,
for him stabbing those of us in the back who served in harm’s way
while we were under his command.
He has to have been one of the sorriest creatures
to have ever walked upright on two limbs.
After bailing myself out of jail, I would board a train to San Francisco
and hope and pray that the whole damn city and all of its inhabitants
would fall into the deep blue sea for the way they treated the boys and me
when we traveled through there on our way to Vietnam
and then again when we came back home.
I would take a rental car and drive to the Grand Canyon,
to view the awesome splendor of God’s magnificent handiwork
He has wrought upon this old spinning sphere we call earth.
Then I would be off to the nearest airport to hop a plane,
and jet off to Rome where I would light an industrial strength candle
in Mother Teresa’s honor to thank her for all of the souls she saved.
Then I would gladly return home to die the death
I should have died when I was young.
Afterwards, my soul would slip off into the pit of hell,
and I would kick the devil’s sorry ass;
because I’m still regular army even after all of these years,
meaner than hell, tougher than nails.
Life’s an uphill battle and then you die,
but it’s a wild, wild ride. It’s one hell of a ride!


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What I want to Say

How is it that I feel this way?
I don’t even know what kind of feeling it is
But I know it’s not a good one
I can’t even begin to tell you
Because I can’t even explain it myself
All I think about it you
I start to get these thoughts
They won’t go away
I wonder if you feel this way too
Like something’s missing
I re-read your texts to reassure myself
We lay on the bed in silence 
 I desperately want stories and laughs
I feel physically connected
But not mentally connected
day after day I’m the one puts in the time
Goes out of my way to make sure you’re ok
Why doesn’t it bounce back my way
Arnt I the one you said I meant the world to you
Then why don’t you show it
Im the girl that needs to be shown that what you say is true
That’s all I ask
This to me doesn’t seem like a big task


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A missive from the damned to whoever have a little time to spend with this nonsense - Page 1

And so, I have made up my mind, once more.
I have decided to depart, to bid this husk farewell.
In order to do that, I must save coins if I desire to save myself.
For with it, I will be able to buy my ticket out here to a more blessed realm or the eternal void. Either way, I will be winning.
I mustn't, any longer, feel the starvation of affection and no more I shall be fed by the crumbs of fleeting joy they toss at me.

Thoughts of finishing are always in my mind, flooding it, making hard to go day by day, making hard to sleep, to have hope.
I fail to see where the hope is, I like to think that it can be find inside of one's heart.
But even so, I think I am mistaken, and when I glance at myself in the mirror, I quickly lose any spark of what could-be hope.

With the aid of the metallic sling, I shall leave this husf behind, heavy with its sins and sorrows, to no more nourish hatred.
For it does only to hinder my advance towards elevation.
With my metallic sling, I shall pierce, first, my heart, where lies the sorrow, then, my mind, where resides the sins.
Whilst the life in me start to wane, regrets I will not have, when my consciousness fade, my spirit will be no longer be trapped inside this imperfect cage of flesh.
Being free, my spirit shall roam far and beyond to, before, unseen places by men, to  untouched places by men.

Another day,someone inquired me "Are you happy now?" and for that I just said "Yes". How else could I have responded if not with a lie?
How could I tell them that I yearn for a premature closure in order to stop thinking and feeling but I also yearn for love.
"I am not absolutely happy, as per say, but I do suffer less when I am asleep" I could never say that to anyone...


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Walter

He stood and aimlessly watched the parade of patrons and volunteers that wandered daily past his kennel.  All so familiar, so ordinary.  Just like every other day he mused.  Nothing new.  Nothing special.

Moving to the small crumpled blanket near the back of his cage, he turned several times and finally curled up, head on his paws, positioned so that he could watch the activity around him.  But in reality, he was bored.  It had been a long time since he had met each morning with anticipation.  Too many days.   Too much disappointment.  He would leave all that barking and racing to the front of  their cage to the younger pups who hadn’t figured out yet that the cute ones went first.  It didn’t really make any difference what you did to attract attention if you weren’t young or cute, or both.

Too much time had gone by to participate in the charade.  In reality, Walter had seen a lot of people that he would rather not spend a lot of time with.  You know the type.  Kind of hyper, bouncing from stray to stray, looking for a perfect dog.  Kids poking their fingers  through the kennel screen or banging on it.  Some even making barking sounds.  He didn’t need any of that and was glad when they were gone.

Walter was very picky.  Set in his ways after so many years.  He had had it good for  a long time.  An only dog in a household of two people that let him be himself.  No tricks. No stunts.  Just long naps and daily walks.  A yard to himself to reflect on what was for dinner.  He had been fond of his doggy bed in their bedroom.  Each night he would help his owner walk through the house turning off the lights and checking the doors before they climbed the stairs together.  And there was always one last good night pat before settling down.

But those days were gone now.  First one had become ill and went to the hospital and never came back.  The other one changed overnight, spending long days, sitting mostly.  The walks became less frequent.  Walter did what he could.   He could see it in their eyes that they were hurting from their loss. He would make a point of laying his head in their lap, trying to let them know that he missed them too.  At times like this, he instinctively knew that although it remained unsaid, they only had each other.

He remembers well the day that his owner snapped a leash on him and said, “well Walter, I’m afraid we have to say goodbye.  I have to go to a place where they won’t let me keep you, so I am going to have to let you go.”  Walter could see the tears in his eyes.  He knew it would do him no good to whine or resist.  It was obvious there were no alternatives.  And besides, it would just make it harder on his owner.  But he was going to miss him.  It was not going to be easy to adjust.

But adjust he did.   He had been here a long time now and had seen countless pups and dogs  trot past his cage with light hearts and  new owners, heading off with new found hopes and expectations.  But it soon became obvious that there weren’t a lot of people that wanted an old yellow hound.  Everyone wanted the young ones.  So here he lay, dozing a bit, but still keeping an eye on those walking by, many giving him but a glance before moving on.

He heard them before the saw them.  ”Honey” the voice said.  ”That looks like Walter, old Mr. Whitney’s dog.”  Walters ears perked up a little.  ”Do I know them” he thought.  ”They seem to know me”.  I’d better go take a closer look” and with that, he stood and slowly ambled toward his kennel gate, giving a cautious wag of his tail.

“It is him” the man said.  ”Walter, how you doing boy?  Do you remember me?”

And upon closer inspection, Walter did remember him.  He used to live right across the street.  He would see him in his yard and if Walter were to ramble over, he usually had a dog treat in his pocket.  With the recognition, Walter gave a little stronger wag and moved toward the fingers extended through the fencing.  It was good to see an old friend.

“What do you say hon” the man said.  ”How would you feel about bringing Walter home with us?”

Walter looked at the woman and saw her nod in agreement.  ”You wait here and I’ll go find a volunteer.”

The man bent down and said “What do you think Walter?  Would you like to go home with us?”

Actually, Walter decided, he could think of nothing he would like more.  A chance to go back to the old neighborhood with people he already knew.  What was there not to like.

Soon the woman returned and the gate opened.  A leash was snapped on Walter and together they proceeded past the rows of dogs and puppies, all vying for their attention.  Walter couldn't help but stand a little straighter, stepping a little more lightly, showing off.  ”This is what going home looks like guys.” he thought.  ”Good luck and goodbye”.

As they neared the car the man said “I can’t believe we found you Walter.  There is someone I am going to take you to see.  I can’t wait to see the expression on his face when you walk in his room>”

Walter, of course, knew exactly who he was talking about.  And he couldn't wait to see the expression on his face either.


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Silence, Nested In The Sand

Coming apon, a large desert rock.
Along side, a smaller white rock, 
so I thought. A sun bleached skull, 
nested in the sand. Silence, with
a gentle desert breeze moving my 
many unanswerd thoughts; quickly
race threw my mind. This O'l skull,
once riddled before with dream's,
stolen memories, for ever gone!
A wide open jaw; Imagining, this
poor O'l soul screaming from the 
other side, but never heard. So
I walked away, and wisperd a few
words: Rest now, youv'e been found!

03/07/14   Written By, Larry Berdoo
                         WRITE ON!

                                     

           


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A Serial Killer In My Heart

He met her at the bar,
she asked him for a drink,
he said yes,
and he felt the link,
he saw everything that set her apart, 
It went from calls,
to dates,
to late night coffee,
and cheese cakes,

Love was in the air,
he thought what they had was rare, 
but in reality it was just...,
another murder affair,
she missed his calls 
with no return calls,
at all,
she played games 
to enthrall,

Then one day,
she came,
she knocked on the door, dressed in black,
poised to attack,
she explained she found someone better,
Do not write anymore letters,
she said,
they won't be read, 
do not shed tears,
do not act dumb,
forget me, 
drown yourself with beers
if you must,
I've gained your trust,
If it was love,
then its full of rust,

He was stabbed in the heart, 
and burned all over,
he couldn't see her from afar no more,
as she left his life,
he knew hard would be the strive,

He walked alone under the city night lights,
without his might,
without his pride,
Grotesque was the man whose heart was broken,
walked alone under the city night lights,
without his might,
without his pride


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Brother and Sister

Susan sits by an open window
Remembering her brother
It was during the sixties when it happened
The exact date was May 8, 1966
They called the Sixties liberating
A time when America accepted change
But it wasn’t like that for everyone
Her brother Stevie
Was two years younger than she was
The guys in school used to call him names
Like sissy boy and queer
Saying if he got into trouble his sister would have to stick up for him.

But Stevie was better
Way better than the bullies at school.

At home Susan and her brother 
Would move the living room coffee table 
Push the old couch back 
And then sing the old favorites 
In close harmony
Songs about teenage love
Like the sad love ballads by the Everly Brothers
Or the Righteous Brothers
The sadder the love song
The more they liked it
They would stand together
Moving ever so slowly
And sing those songs so loud 
And so close 
To each other’s face 
Over and over 
And then Stevie would whistle the ending
While their parents 
Clapped and clapped
And clapped. 

Then one late afternoon
When Stevie didn’t come home from school
The phone rang and rang
With a strange incessant kind of ringing
That jarred their mother  
It was someone from the school saying 
That horseplay got out of hand
Then the police came 
A man in a suit spoke to father in the kitchen
Whispering over the clouds of cigarette smoke 
Susan could barely hear his hoarse whisper 
Only things like “We‘re going to investigate this”
And  “I promise I’ll do what I can”
Her family never did find out what happened to the investigation.

Along the way
Away from home
Something peculiar happened to Susan 
She lost something of herself
And would sit   
Staring out of the window 
Not seeing anything
Just thinking of her brother.

She still does it today
Just staring
Out to nowhere
Every time she hears one of those old songs
She feels that Stevie is still with her.

Forgiveness is a long word
For what happened a long time ago
All Susan has are memories
If she could just absorb them  
And put them in a little bottle 
And carry them around
So whenever she started feeling down
She’d open the bottle 
And all those good memories 
Would remind her just how special life is 
 And Stevie would still be there
Their bodies entwined
Singing harmony
She holding the last note
He snapping his fingers
Whistling the last sad tune.



.
 


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Bieber And Ford, Ford And Bieber



What an absolute and utter unbelievable disgrace To allow these two low lifes to degrade the image Of a major world-class city and country Why are we permitting these jerks to drag us down to their level To continue to degrade the reputation Of an otherwise fantastic modern growing city of Toronto And a great well respected country called Canada There must be some provision to boot these bad ass clowns outta here I am in a state of utter shock and disbelief! © Jack Ellison 2014


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Ghost of an unborn baby girl

DEAR MOM,  RUDE WOMAN

I WILL HATE YOU TILL HEAVEN

YOU RUDE WOMAN !...

YOU KILLED ME!

AS U WANTED TO BE

A MOTHER OF A SON

AND U MADE A RUN

TO THE ABORTION CAMP....

DEAR FATHER..

DO NOT HARBOUR

DREAMS OF HEAVEN

FOR THERE IS A PLACE IN HELL

YOU CAN LIVE REALLY WELL

TELL MY BROTHERS

ABOUT HIS UNBORN  SISTER

DEAD IN THE HOSPITAL...

DEAR PARENTS

SATANS TENANTS !

HOLY CURSE

UGLY NURSE!

YOU HIRED HER

TO SHUT ME UP !

'TELL MY BROTHERS

IN CASE YOU HAVE ANOTHER

THAT HE HAD A SISTER

UNBORN SISTER !

;

;

;

 

 

 

WHY DOES INDIA GRAPPLES WITH HIGHEST FEMALE GENOCIDE?.....I AM NOT SORRY 
IF I HAVE OFFENDED.............


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Final Plea

Inspired by the untimely deaths of young people I knew. RIP


In a dream, tonight would be my last

and I demanded to talk to God.

Of all the things I've gotten past,

to go now seemed so odd.

"You've taken all my friends you see

and now you want me, too?

Unlike one who pretends to be

I've always honored you."

Those sinners who outlive me still,

all I have to ask is how?

It mad me question His very will.

Why take a good man now?

But God just sat and let me rave

on and on about my worth

and why I didn't need a grave,

but rather eternity here on earth.

Pride let my voice be rather loud.

He never said a word.

I told of deeds that made me proud

and good things that I'd heard.

And when I tired He simply said,

"No doubt your life's been good.

But many younger are now dead

and their legacy simply would

be the song that is never sung,

no children call them dad.

for they came to me so very young

and left the world confused and sad.

Yet now your time has come as well

and selfish thoughts are all I hear?

Your life was full and I can tell

it's really death you fear.

Just remember that you have no choice,

for you all will one day die.

Be strong and with a humble voice

tell loved ones they can cry."

And in that moment I knew a peace,

and I felt a tear well up inside.

That most feared was now the least

as my selfish motives died.


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Lunch with a Textile

Ever have lunch
with a textile, a serial textile?
That's what I call people who are addicted to texting,
because you may as well have lunch with a textile...
You end up looking at the top of the textile's head
more than their eyes...
constantly interrupted 
a second fiddle to the texting riddle.
Every so often they look your way, cross-eyed,
head bobbing( like a baby bird searching for its mothers mouth),
chirping some vague words to catch up to the conversation
but they never catch up.
Their food sits in front of them half eaten-time to leave
they allow you to lead the way..
(be their seeing eye dog)
because their texting while walking..
They finally stagger to their car,
you say goodbye to the top of the textile's head,
they grunt something incoherent,
and as you pull away you see the textile slumped over
looking down at their pleasure box.
Under your breath you mutter, 
I pray they make it home alive.


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The Empty Bar

At nights when they stumble back to there corners of the world I
sit keeping the neon cast shadows company.
Old dust covred piano plays to a concert of empty stools and 
a old ghost or two.

The music fades like a smoke ring to vanish where none will know.
As a homeless soul stumbles from the shadowsto cross the
empty street.

The glass sits half empty as I continue to play.
As beaten as a broken tail alley cat.
We all yern for comfort but in this life.
Often were met with a back hand.

I play as nothing will ever change.
The broken soul so very tender and strange.

And wait for the for them to return from there corners.
To mask my troubles and fill this dark empty bar.


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Iridescence of Roses

Sleep eludes me, my thoughts engulf me...
   The room is quiet....
    I hear a branch outside my window, scratching the glass, in winter's wind
        
I cannot slumber; I cannot escape the ticking clock
  There are no tears left to cry
       Reflected shadows, dark silhouettes of trembling trees, hover over me

                               Oh God, please take her now...

Is it early morn, or early evening?    It is so hard to tell...
          When day is night, and night is day... each passing hour seems alike.
              It seems this night that would never end, 
                                is quickly giving away to morning

Restlessly, I toss and turn.. 
In the faint light, I can barely see the flowered wallpaper 
Iridescent, in pale pastels, ....sweet baby roses.......
I count them one by one, soft shades, a trace of the pink that they used to be  
              Worn by the years, faded by the sunlight that comes in late afternoon...
                              before the darkness filled the room....

I remember when she picked this cheery pattern...so bright with color
                       Another time, ..... an eternity ago, 
                           It is loose at the seams, just a faint remnant of iridescent color....
                        
Again,  I turn my head to check on her.
The large poster bed holds her like a small child
                                           She looks lost among the covers.

I see the frailness, a delicate shell of the woman she used to be, 
      There is a bit of light, shining on her sleeping face....
          She has the same iridescence of the faded rose....and I find myself smiling….
              And somehow it comforts me…

I watch the movement of her chest as it barely rises, and falls
               So shallow is her breathing, and outside the wind has calmed….
               
               I thank God that she is seems to be sleeping
                                         And I pray that her dreams are happy ones
                                                   





.......................................................................................................................................
In honor of Frank's Contest: "Iridescent"


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ROUGH TURN

Hear my plea and hurt me not
Have mercy and let me be,	
Lost I am but found I will be
Taunt not my image
Lest yours you taunt
Do not rob me of pleasure
Pleasure I will feel only with him
Part not my thighs
That I nurture for he, whose I am
Spare me this agony
Free me of this shame
Release me from this hurt
And do not steal my cries
Rob me not of my pleasure
For demented I will be
With your cold and evil touches
Touch me not, ooh rugged being
For my life you bring to an end.
 
 
 © Naa Takia, All Rights Reserved 2012
 


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He'd Just Discovered Suspenders

No job 
No prospects
No optimism 
It took all his energy
Just to fake a smile 
Health eroding 
At the speed of light 
His world grew smaller by the 
second 
Former small pleasures 
Transformed into ambivalence 
Blank and numb 
He walked blindly 
There were no solutions 
To any of his problems 
And then one day 
Out of the clear blue sky 
He smiled without effort 
I even caught a glimmer 
Of a spark in his eye 
Life became a little more 
pleasant 
We all cheered him on silently 
Me his number one fan.

As his confidence had 
diminished 
His gut had grown larger 
He wore his belt below it 
But his pants always slid down 
Far enough to annoy him 
Another problem 
With no solution 
One day, after months 
With the spark in his eye 
He chose to die 
It was a shock because 
He'd just discovered 
suspenders.


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A HAWKING CHILD

At eight, Mary started hawking
Supplies, at Creek road market

Little Mary!

Hawking
Up and down
In the hazardous market

''Buy your ice water'' 
Every now and then
She would cry

Many a kids
Also hawked wares
Hence, their continual cries
'' Buy kerosene''
'' Buy your ice water''
'' Buy your ice cream''

A customer's beckon
Always triggered chaos
The struggle to sell their wares
Some kids crossed without
Watching

Upon one hawking day
A reckless driver hit Mary
Slowly, she lost her breath
And went down in a thud
The driver escaped like a mad dog
A folk of traders like an ant colony
Gathered about the child
Shaking heads with folded arms
Soon they dispersed
With a tale to tell
How Mary, the hawking child
Died with the night
But shall arise with the sun no more


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Chance

Chance

By BJ Welsh

With life and living we take our chance
Nodding in agreement to a furtive glance
Waking up each day is a chance we take
That life will deliver us for Heaven’s sake
We awake each sunrise with a hope reborn
Chance seeing an other suffer and torn

It’s one other’s life you see at a glance
Hoping for approval, it’s but a chance
The life you witness as others pass
The pain inside may subside, alas
Hoping to see one as you
The chance you take to find two

Running out of time the clock is ticking
Chance there are others whose lives aren’t clicking
Great as that may be, the chance you’re all alone rises
Furtive glances from beneath disguises
Chance that hiding the pain and hurt won’t last
The agony you feel will not be fast

Chance you soon become discovered
In your waking hours its’ uncovered
You’ve lived a life of hurt and pain
 The chance you’ve taken may have been in vain 




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SOUNDS

                 




              Morning came as whispers in my ear slowly says echoing I love you
  The embrace and let go of the warmth of the sun and sheet move it was a cue
         The voice echoing that whispers in my ears again says do you hear that?
                 The gurgle of the coffee, and the smell of caffeine in the air sat
             A determine voice still echoing says it is time for you to get up my love
                         As I open my eyes I look outside as I see one dove 
              Cooing me, and it's bright white feathers has gotten my attention
     As I looked around my dream of my love disappears as it put me into depression
                  A sadness crackled into my heart, and a discerning look came to
            I wake up every morning hearing her voice in the summer morning dew


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Words of Meaningless Torture

I only ever tried to be there for you. I thought I was your friend...I thought I helped but obviously not. I wished to make you happy...to feel good about yourself. To make you believe you were special and you meant something...because...well you meant everything to me and I did what I could to show you that but it's apparent I just failed. As I fail at everything...I guess I can't even be a friend. Because when you said...the new friend...this person whom you only just met--while we've been friends for years-- but this person... oh yes must be so “different” because as you said....is the only one to make you feel happy. The only one to make you feel worth something...makes you feel special. Makes you feel like you matter...the only one to have helped you realize you make a difference....
I guess I was just never good enough. I tried and tried but it just wasn't enough and now slowly it's unraveled just how meaningless...how torturous...this all is. Because I hear from you less...and less. I get short responses. It takes nearly and army of message to get a reply...and then...it's hardly a reply. 
I'm just sorry...I couldn't have been any better than I am. I'm sorry that I never made you feel good about yourself...or happy or anything. I'm just sorry I was never the best of a friend. Because...believe me...I did try. But I guess I just wasn't good enough. Never good enough. So...I'll just move back and idly sit in the shadows lost with time...because I obviously have no meaning in your life....after all...you were never happy....until the new friend came along.... But nevertheless...you still mean everything to me....you have always made a difference in my life and even now as I watch, through tear filled eyes, the words you send me make a huge difference still....a difference I never thought would happen but...still a difference...and the difference is....I was never anything to you and you were always everything to me. And that, my friend, is a difference. And always will be. But I hope...that you'll always stay happy...as that's all I ever wanted for you....


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When I Was A Child

It started when I was a child
I was a kid with a gift
That no one understood or recognized
Instead of loved I was picked on and ostracized

However I blocked it all out
But little by Little its all coming back
Like layers of an onion
That held me tightly wrapped

Bits and pieces of my memory
That were hidden away in code
Deep within my mind a door was closed
I?ve reached in to remember because my life is now in jeopardy

All the emotional and sexual abuse that I closed off to survive
Has been staring at me sabotaging my life
This life is not what I have dreamed and I am dying inside
And if I don?t face the truth of what was done to me 

Then I will surely become the monster that I despise
And as the tears bellow up
I again take another breath
Like soot in a fireplace and a hair ball in a cat

I cough up the toxic memories
As images flash through my mind
With my face in the toilet I begin to cry
My body begins to stiffen as nausea rises to the top

I then begin to wail from deep in my chest
It?s a hideous cry that sends chills down my spine
As I grit my teeth and hang on for dear life
A thought runs through my mind why.. why.. why.. why.

I?m tired of the black outs
I?m tired of the fear
I?m tired of the loneliness that have held me prisoner here
I?m tired of the pain and suffering that has come in my parents name

I?m tired of all the trauma and I?m tired of all the drama
I?m tired of the neglect that?s been perpetrated on my soul
Keep your hands off of me, keep your beliefs away from me
From all the mental abuse and all the negative remarks
And you still don?t see how you?ve damaged my sensitive heart
 
I?m tired of hearing all the denial
I?m tired of hearing how there is nothing wrong with you
I?m tired of you blaming everyone else but you
I?m tired of hearing how you hate this and you hate that

I?ve tried for years to heal this wound
But it seems to have spread to my nephew too
I don?t know what else to do
I even ruined my only serious relationship to get revenge

In my mind I justified their crime 
From all the bad advice and all the dysfunctional decisions
And I thought I was reversing everything 
When I vowed never to get married and have kids
But that sabotaging act has done me more damage 



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Una Visita con Mama -- A Visit With Mama

We walk the rocky shore
and you lean heavily on me,
Mother, bruising my balky arm --
muttering "Ay, Hijo!";
a few steps and, breathless,
we are both exhausted.
Your once-brown eyes, gone gray,
are like concentric rings
rippling from a random stone
thrown into a polluted pond
in winter: eyes as flat
as the latex paint that
coats a cheerless rented room.
Cataracts circle your lenses;
they have a ruptured look --
purple, jellied -- like the eyes
of a dead fish, which I poke,
perversely fascinated.
It is puffed and rotten.
Your eyes are puffed, too, red-rimmed,
moist with tears that brim over
though you try to blink them back.
That you love me and I you,
and that we wish to extend
our time together, is clear --
as clear as the black water
in the pond, as clear as your
cataract-clouded eyes,
as clear as my conscience
when I drop you at the Home,
cleverly inventing an important
meeting, to which I hastily fly.


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The Fault is my Own

Blinded by this Fear and Pain.
I've lost all sense of control.
Confused and Mistaken.
For all the lies I've heard.
The Fault is my Own.

Wounds breaking, Scars bleeding.
Trying to shake this feeling.
I take what's left of me.
Just to stop the beating.
The Fault is My Own.

The Sun sets in a distance way.
As I lay my body down to rest.
With no words left to say.
I give all I have left to waste.
The Fault is My Own.


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Jose

Jose, the kid on the corner --
El Macho -- who knows no English
and who sells himself to eat
(being still not quite dry)
slept last night in an alley
shielded from wind and eyes
by the bulk of two dumpsters
positioned at angles to each other.
This morning, his smile's
as brilliant as sunshine.
And if he's not exactly squeaky clean,
he's only a little the worse for wear --
probably more immaculate than we,
potential buyers at whom he flaunts his wares.


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Perverse Equality

Chester Purvis is white and he is in prison.
Arnold Watson is black and he is in prison.
Nelson Windstalker is red and he is in prison.
Ernesto Valendez is brown and he is in prison.
Charles Tanaka is yellow and he is in prison.
This all must be some kind of perverse equality.


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6-11

6 a.m

It is time to wake- 
After being bludgeoned by sleep.
A quick brush 
And a quick wash
Off to the bus-stop in a quick rush.

It’s another day 
To work for a pay
Loose soap lather-
Sticking senselessly by the tip of the ear
And white Vaseline still to sink in the hair.

This life is a rush
Get late and get fired
No one cares if you are tired
Or couldn’t spare the time for a notch.

Brown suit,
Black trouser
Loosened zipper
Man! You are a walking sleeper.

We all filed-up
Looking like men heading for the concentration camp,
Yawning helplessly from an unfinished sleep.
This city life,
Is just a life of strife.

We hop on the bus,
So eager to seek solace in its confines.
Heads hanging loosely,
Snoring trumpets at its crescendo.


11 p.m

Free from the day’s toil
But held captive by Lagos traffic.
Sweating and panting from heat,
Squeezed like a crumpled note at the back seat.

Dinner on third-mainland Bridge,
A stick of gala and Asala*
With a bottle of water to quench the hunger.
 
It’s business time for the street urchins
From Iyana-oworo to the bridge that links Alapere,
They disguise as beggars-
Or hide in the shade of dark like scavengers
Watching out for victims to prey on.

The day weans itself away;
Broken down vehicles,
Long tankers stealing the lanes,
Pedestrians ignoring the bridge,
Hawkers shouting their wares,
Tanker horns blaring like hooting train.
 
Six to Eleven of our lives
Stolen by the struggle to survive.
Office pressure and less leisure,
Street madness and no cure.
Traffic Thieves,
Problematic Passengers,
Howling Hawkers,
And Lazy-ing LASMA**
All add to this insanity.




* A Yoruba dialect for Walnut 
** LASMA reference to Traffic Officials of Lagos State


© Ayinla Muyideen Adeleke


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Narrative Qualities

Chatter; chatter; nag; nag; shut up they cry; proclaim a truce; dug beneath the 
sandy cove. 

Dermatitis dramatics; ghouls forlorn; faces exuberant in detail; wistful; smiling; 
caving; longing; sunning; words without need; need without words; immaculate 
conception. She stood; Farrell watched; gracing the parapet with parenthesis 
and parochial intent; grin overlong; foreboding yet intuitively inviting. He stood; 
Ferrell watched; pour poor swine; marital bliss; marital kiss; marital law; sternly 
facing the couple; mouth aghast; shouting down the crowd. 

“Is there anyone here who finds fault with this union?”

Farrell held his own; run they say; heir to the throne; a testament of guilt; to be so 
overly apologetic regardless of circumstance is to be appalling; it’s unheard of; 
even throughout the salient circles of silent elect; neglect yourself. 

“Arthur your wife knew too well…”

Reminisce; reconvict the perennial cyst; they kissed; marital bliss; marital kiss; 
marital law. They stood; Ferrell watched; skulking the heads of unleaven bread; 
heathen and sheathing the sickles instead; Ferrell construed pastures anew; 
skipping the scene; sauntering down a back alley boardroom. 

Farce off the elbow. 


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The Sad Little Gnome

The Gnome was sad he was sitting feeling unloved and alone.
Nobody seemed to notice him now, when they came home.
He once was happy, smiling all day.
As they cam down the path, some even came to play.
His paint was cracked; his fishing rod was broke.
He was so upset he sometimes thought he would choke.
In the dark, dark blackness of this one night,
He heard a whisper and it gave him a fright.
Then again, he felt it didn’t really matter,
He was so sad, he thought his heart would shatter.
Suddenly the whispers grew and came to a stop beside him,
He was whisked away so fast, his rod broke again where it was thin,
All night in a bag sat the poor gnome, 
Not really upset that he had been taken from his home.
He sat and waited through the long night
When someone came to him it was broad daylight.
Oh you poor Gnome just look at you,
I’m going to give you new paint and a rod I will glue.
The gnome smiled widely, his picture was taken, and a letter was sent to his owner
Give us the money or you will not see again, this poor sad gnome, that’s a bit of a loner.
They painted him bright it was all good fun
They put him on a shelf with another gnome, a lady one.
Some money arrived to pay the Gnomes ransom,
They wanted him back, now he looked so handsome.
Please don’t return me I was sad and alone, unless you send me with this other gnome.
Ok little Gnome, no ransom was paid for the gnome by your side,
So we’ll put you together and she can be your bride.
The moral of this if you feel stuck and on the shelf
There always someone out but it could be a gnome or an elf.
Don’t rush into something because you are alone
Even though it worked out, for my sad little gnome.




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false hope

Red numbers burn 4:04 into the darkness. Moments later, they transform their identity and moan 5:16.  Work begins in three hours and forty-four minutes; three hours and forty-three minutes. 
An uninviting breeze blows through the filmy fabric, interrupting her weary gaze. Tiny defined bumps form on top of her ashen skin.  Her bare feet wilt from the edge of the bed as she sits above the bottle of poison that she has since neutralized.  
He should have stumbled through the door by now. 
Draping a blanket around her curved shoulders, she meekly makes her way to the next room.  For a fleeting moment, she permits herself to contemplate her existence.  She wonders how she ever succumbed to this.
Just outside, a vehicle screeches to a halt.  Music and muffled voices are heard with some effort.  A woman’s laughter penetrates the air.  The screen door clicks gingerly behind her as she leans over the paint chipped railing hoping to hear a little more.  It is him.  He is okay.
Instinctively, she returns to the bed and pretends to be asleep.    
With difficulty, the apartment door opens and closes.  Keys hit the parquet floor with a familiar clatter.  The stagger to the bedroom is clumsy and piercing.  She lies perfectly still with fallen eyelids.    
It is quiet again, but this time the silence is too loud.  
She seals her eyes tight and comforts herself with false hope of tomorrow. 

january 12, 2012
(this is not a poem, it is a postcard story I had written for a writing project. Was wondering if anyone had any thoughts about it and/or constructive critisim. Did it evoke feeling? Thanks for checking in:)


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Tears of Blood

I was there for you...Not through thick and thin. Not through blood and fire. But through pain and hurt, tears and sorrow. I was there. I helped you to heal. I protected you from everthing. I saved your day so many times. Don't act like you didn't see it. Don't act like it wasn't there. It was your choice to kill me, twice. It was your decision to break me. Why can't you just see that. There's no such thing as an apology when you don't feel even a little bit remorse for what you've done. In this world I am an outsider. And in this life, I can not live...


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Up Late

-Inspired by my temporary English instructor, Mr. Phinizy <3
--------------------------------------------------------------------------
Evening had diminished to night; how very quickly did She fly It is funny how quickly time passes, as if our brains tweak the clocks of life The night was of moderate warmth, and my house suffered terribly still And with the stifling heat inside, many hot questions filtered through my mind I asked myself, Where did the summer go? Why must our suns die? Why is it sweltering in September? Why has sudden anger blown her aside? I really need some sleep, thought I, looking at my face through the murky glass Tracing dark circles under my eyes, I was reminded of sagging Death longing to ensnare me Yes, Death followed me that night, dwelling upon me, boiling away the autumn breeze As I looked into my sleep-deprived eyes, I knew Death waited for my ultimate slumber, When all commemoration of time, that flew so rapidly before, suddenly just…stops. With many a sigh, I turned on the faucet, soaking my hands in the cool, flowing water I needed some relief from the heat…I needed a refreshing new idea, I needed cleansing Anything to clear my mind of the negativity daring to break me every day of my life For such depressing thoughts spewed forth like a wild river, the rapids racking my brain But these waters were not living; they were dead and hot like blue blazes of hell I turned off the faucet, for there was no Balm on this earth to sooth this soul There was no clock on this earth tweaked enough to return me to earth The warm breezes, the sickly pale cast of many thoughts had driven Her away And though the everlasting sleep of Death sounded soothing, the Balm does not assuage me… It only burns forever, in obstinate constancy; angered to the core, That night stuck in this fractured rhyme of time, I was up late…too late


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Rotting Corpses

Freaking Russkies with stone cold hearts
and godless hellbound uncaring souls
shoot down a plane filled with travel weary citizens
from many countries around this world of ours.
The greedy grimmy cossack bastards
leave the corpses of the innocent victims
to rot beneath the searing heat of the summer sun.
The robbing thieving Russians steal the possessions
from the broken bodies of the dead crew and passengers.
Political leaders around the globe quiver in stark raving fear.
Murdering madman Vladimir Putin is apparently king of the world.
Nervous money-grubbing news reporters wanting instant fame
kiss Vlad’s sorry worthless scrawny commie devil worshipping ass
in order to get the opportunity to film the rotting corpses of the dead.
This event is a scathing indictment of the dearth of humanity
present on this earth in this supposedly enlightened modern society
of the twenty first century. It’s a hell of a thing, it’s a damn shame.


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All About Her

I dont know much about her
but I heard she wasnt that talkative
She didnt like being alive
She was numb to all the pain she had to go through

I heard she didnt like anything that was green
She ate roman noodles everynight for supper
She always wore flannels and bellbottoms
Sometimes i seen her wear dresses and fancy tops
But lately shes been wearing band shirts

She wears converse shoes and uses an army bag for school
I know that she dosent like to communicate through talking... only through her peoms
or sometimes even her songs.

I see her drawing and painting all the time
She draws famous people
She would like to be famous and not so unknown
When she tries to speak to anyone they always walk away and leave her alone

When she gets home she goes upstairs to play her bass guitar
She hates chocolate cake but loves chocolate
Her family left her behind because she cant forget her past

Sometimes when shes alone she contemplates the meaning behind her life
Her favorite color is gray because her life is black and white
Everything she says is false according to the world

She is not so innocent
I understand that she dreams about the perfect life
When she opens her eyes they are pitch black

She is someone that is fake
She acts nothing like she should
She is very grungy and unclean

She knows of no safety
and of no time
Her life is smashed into pieces by the giant sun

She will always be a ghost
She knows of no god
She crawls around in the world of death
She remains forgotten


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Tears upon fear

My head is heavy
And your know where near
Our lives are slowly crumbling
And we're not there to hear

Sand bag to wall
We're there when each other fall
Release your load
Only so much you can take
Give it to me
I'll hold your world on my shoulders

Sandbag to wall
I'll do my best not to fall
In turn
I know we'll soon switch
My shoulders are in a slouch
And life's becoming too big of a bit©h

Your silent words spoken
Things said but not heard
A hoax in communication
A bridge thats now been burnt
Each lie and blameful word
Melted in a smoldering pot
Craters into your life
Strips you left with only a soul to show

The meteoroid was left standing there
Some what in tacked
But left a tear
Like a dagger in the heart
You refuse to take out
Time over time
The meteoroid has dissapeared
but still you imagine its there
Stuck in the past 
Your stubborn as a ass
When will you move on

We cleaned up the debris
Everyday we came by
Between each heart fulled hi and goodbye
We'd fill our baby up
Trying to help him get by
But no matter how hard we tried
He was just a hole

I look back to dusk
And see my blooming flower
So many bees all around
They were bound to sting
Ignore all signs and look at you now
After they all fly high
And leave you under the great blue sky

Everyday Ill come
And lay there with a rope
Waiting to pull you back
And carry you into a world of hope
Because I'm afraid  of your other ways to cope


 


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Womb for Sale?

Ever since a little child,
Away from the family he was kept,
His  protests were ruled out,
Searching for the reason,he silently wept.

No affection, love or bed time stories for him,
Always sad and dejected, his childhood was grim.
He longed for his mother's love,yearned for her time,
Unfulfilled desire of a little boy,what was his crime?

Away from home to Bangalore he was sent,
In a hostel to live alone,he had no intent.
Though dejected initially, he learnt to live alone, 
Study ,work and earn, he soon became a gemstone.

Career enhanced and to Mumbai he came,
Appreciated for work, he rose to fame.
He met a girl and friends they became,
Cupid Struck and in love he was lame.

Happily, they decided to tie the knot,
His neglected childhood, he totally forgot.
Happy in love and enjoying his fame,
Life for him became a successful game.

Then one day his mother called,
All his happiness was suddenly stalled.
She demanded his house and his money,
She dictated ... he abandon his honey.

He fought, protested and decided to abandon her,
She said something that made his eyes  blur.

"I hate your dad and your handicapped brother,
And sent you away,so I could join you later, 
I made dad pay for your education and so you earn
I gave you birth....so now you have to return"


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The Lonely Road

Soft winter draped with white;
a lonely wand'rer travelling a road.
Rough tracks of a wheel in the snow
trample the earth with a fearsome mirth.

The lonely footprints follow thee
as you travel the long-lost path.
With shovel in hand, the frozen land
beckons you to the end.

I wonder what led you here
after friendship so forlorn.
Have you forgotten me;
left me here to live in fear?

Cannot understand, not in the least,
but you make the trekk seem peaceful.
Acceptance so prevalent - so unlike you -
what has become of the you so young?

I sit here in silence,
thoughtful under the half-sunk moon.
Together we fell into the frozen sea,
yet only you travel the lonely road.


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Cardboard City

(Where the streets are full of pity)

Last night! I met an old boxer
in an alley of cardboard;
he seemed glad to see me,
shouted me over for a fight!
I told him!
“Hey I’m not in your league”
“Young man.” He said. “That’s alright.”
“So! I suppose you’re going to leave me,
cos the forecast is for rain, you in
your fine mansion, mine, just a
bloody pain”
“It’s not corrugated you see
it just keeps letting in the damp.”
“But then again I guess,
that’s O.K, for a foolish old tramp.”
He told me!
“What’s the price of glory if one is
shackled to the past. Even my old
woman left me, took my purse in
pursuit of another man. To think
I really loved her, gave her all that I
could, the witch hankered for the
final count, then left me where I
stood!”
He rambled on discursively!
“Take me away from this
‘Cardboard City’ Wrap me up in
sentimental pity.
Help me roam within my native
‘Devon’ Chase illusive rainbows back 
into heaven.”
“Its years of abusing whisky,
Its years of abusing gin,
Its years of perpetual hoar frosts
that hones this savage grin. For
here I lay beneath this lamp, I hope
you understand, with only a
watery moon for comfort and
above me, this single amp!”
“How do you think I feel, here?
In chains of formal sorrow,
replaying each vintage year
each round like no tomorrow!”
“Each morning still, I count the
homeless, watch the van collect
the corpse, I caress each nightly
affliction to ease each delusion
that warps.”
“So! Give an old man a second chance
to come out gamely fighting,
repay life’s referee, society
the uninviting.”
His bottle ran dry,
his words began to wound.
Here! In God’s own country
left high wide and marooned.
Yet like the mortal flame
he submits to the desolate night,
the municipal van empowered
to administer the ultimate rite.
No dawn able to invigorate
leaves this empty feeling in me
the morning dew edulcorates
while a soul in hell is set free!


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A Place Above the Crowd

Killed in Action....
   Now his absence will be grieved
   This is how they will perceive him
~

He was the boy, we didn't really notice
He always had a smile
A little shy, smaller than the rest
Although he tried, he was never the best

But he always had a smile

Never the best at hitting the ball
or winning a race, or having a face
that the rest of the gang would notice at all

But he always had a smile

He was the guy, that people forgot
It's not that they meant to do any harm 
It is just that they thought he lacked the charm

Rejected by some, neglected by most
Too quiet they said....to stand above the crowd

Even though he always had a smile

Yet...now that heads are bowed....they notice him

Only the war had use for him...long enough to lose him

Killed in action....

Funny about that.....now that he is gone....they are even writing songs of him

But he was a hero....long before they noticed


...................................................................
For David's Contest: Heros or Heroines 6/7/12


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too drunk, not drunk

When your with people you think you can trust

and you get a bit to drunk

and you thought you could trust him

after all your mom loved him

 

and you go to bed just afer 2

and mom went to bed just after 1

and he came in room just after 4

so you ask him for a pill...

He gets you the pill and you take it for your head

still drunk

     still drunk

and then you lay back down

still drunk

and then his hand snakes out

still drunk

and then his lips meet yours

still drunk

smell the beer

still drunk

and his hand slides under your gown

still drunk

and you just cant say no

too drunk

    too drunk

and his touches, soft but rough

not drunk

    not drunk

and he plays with your untuoched parts

not drunk

    not drunk

and you try to turn but you cant

not drunk

    not drunk

and you finnaly win and turn

not drunk

    not drunk

and he silently walks away

not drunk

    not drunk

and whispers to the dark room

are you drunk

    are you drunk

        are you drunk 

and you wish you could say that you were

so drunk

     so drunk

so you can turn, fall asleep, and forget

not drunk

    not drunk

and you know in deep and dark thoughts...

your not drunk

      your not drunk

             your not drunk


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My Father Gone These Forty Years

My father gone these forty years,
my mother gone twenty, I remember...
the acrid smell of tobacco
on my mother’s rough fingers,
as she sat, silently,
in a predawn Texas coastal town,
my head in her lap, the short-wave
radio crackling with static.
She strained to hear the chatter of
shrimpers in the Gulf of Mexico,
yelling out to each other
in Cajun patois French,
Mexican Spanish, accented English;
she stroked my nine-year-old hair,
her middle-aged body aching,
hungry, worried, sleepless,
far from her roots, stranded
in this strange, dry,
totally foreign place.
Her imaginings of my father’s
struggles with the sea
and its weathers filled her mind,
and she knew, all the while, that
even if he were safe, earning money,
he (and she) would fail
and we would still suffer
the poverty of the hopeless
and desperate doomed
whose minor, occasional comforts
were only, onshore, the cold beers
and noisy camaraderie of the others
like him, like her,
like us.


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What's on the Cover

What's on the Cover
        by Amy Swanson


"Fat, fat, the water rat,"
the other children said - 
and she could never after
get that phrase out of her head.

Little girl would anxiously
await the time for play,
praying silently that they
would not tease her today.

Every recess was the same
and each day she would cry,
at times she felt so hideous
she wanted to just die.

She had to work three times as hard
to lose a little weight
while others could eat anything
that sat upon their plate.

She grew into her teen years
all too quickly she found out
that if her food did not stay down
no longer she'd be stout.

She knew that this was not the way,
a miserable eating plan;
but it made the teasing stop,
she even met a man.

She kept her secret very well
continued it for years
while going through life's motions,
hid behind her silent tears.

Folks would say "You're beautiful,"
but if they only knew
just what it took to stay that way
they'd have a different view.

Life goes on, and time went by
no matter how she tried
she never felt like she belonged
sometimes she sat and cried.

Society cares far too much
for lust of lovely things,
And those that don't like what they see
will quickly clip the wings

of someone else who won't conform
to this world's shape and image.
It matters not, their brains or heart,
it's more about the visage.

She raised her head and looked into
the mirror, with wet eyes
she shook her head and suddenly
she came to realize

she was as good as anyone
with so much love to give -
she'd died inside, a slave to scales
she now wanted to live.

She splashed cool water on her face
and made a solemn vow
today would be a fresh new start
beginning here and now.

This is not just one girl's story
many share her tale;
warnings of bulimia
oft met with no avail.

If only we could look beyond
the flesh of one another;
True value based on what's inside,
not what's on the cover.


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''Runaway Wanted''

I see my breathe.
Night has fell upon a frost.
Gods' chill lye now on my shoulders.
Alone yet not.
Silence now before the icey rain.
Surrender as my nervous teeth chatter.
For the warmth of a home is all that is desired.
My empty haven.
But,I am filled with a heart that is full.
Want nor wait.
Arms now cover me like a blanket.
Gust of wind has carried your unwaivered heart.
Candles lit a way to find what is left.
Merely an image of what once was.
Break down into a sob.
Remains frozen solid as climate has taken its' vengence.
I suffer no more,weak body.
Now only in spirit.
Shall I rest.


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Shadowed by guilt and shame

Shame must have burned her countenance,
along with fear that gripped her heart;
she’s a woman in the gospel  brought into the open,
by those Pharisees and Sadducees in their attempt –
to entrap Jesus on the horns of a dilemma.

Known as legalistic in their respect for the Law of Moses,
they professed as guardians of moral principles;
they claimed as protectors of the Jewish traditions,
however, in truth, they had a wicked motive to ruin Jesus
to discredit him for all the things he’s doing for his own people.

His growing popularity especially to the Jewish men and women,
becomes a raison d’etre to ruin his good reputation;
oh, such a malady that continues to exist through generations,
the seed of original sin – its consequence to human behavior
reflected its aftermath, the evil tendency that is encrusted deep within.

Jesus’ statement, “let him who is without sin cast the first stone,”
made the religious leaders withdraw from the scene and,
starting from the elders they walked away and talked no more;
a sign of shame, an honest reaction to what is shadowed by guilt.

The entire incident focused on Jesus’ endless forgiveness,
his compassion for the woman being bogged down with disgrace;
like a moral stigma, a scarlet letter etched in the hearts of people,
with Jesus she had her past but she also has a future to look forward to.

Just as the prophet Ezekiel says, “I will give you a new heart –
and put a new spirit in you; I will remove from you your heart of stone
and give you a heart of flesh . . .”  its power and meaning can assure,
God’s love is everlasting; our salvation is his prime concern. 




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Rachel

"Imagine a lovely garden, tea for two and this story"....A Rambling Poet


Just nine years old but she had a dream
of serving others, of doing good.
Adults were failing, but this young girl
decided to do everything she could.

Her birthday was coming, she had a plan.
She asked her mama, who soon agreed.
No gifts wanted by birthday girl,
but rather money for world in need.

She’d heard of the children in Africa
with no fresh water to cool their thirst.
She wanted to cure all of their ills
and need for water would be the first.

Three hundred dollars she set as a goal,
which she almost reached by her birthday.
She didn’t give up, she would find the rest.
She must have three hundred to send away.

There are other children who’ve done the same,
given up their gifts for the water cause,
but Rachel’s story is quite unique
which I’ll tell you now, but I must pause

To steady my hands to pour the tea
and to wipe away this unwanted tear.
More of her story I’ll tell you now.
New twists and turns will soon appear.

Rachel was traveling with her mom,
on some good deed, I have no doubt.
A car pile up and a child was hurt.
That ‘s what this tale is all about.

Rachel died, but ere she did
she begged her mommy to finish her dream,
to get the money to Africa,
so they needn’t drink from polluted stream.

Over a million dollars raised
by tender souls who have heard her plea.
The money just keeps pouring in
from simple folks like you and me.

“A little child shall lead them”.
Dear, sweet Rachel was one of those.
She put the needs of others above
desire for birthday toys and clothes.

By: Joyce Johnson
August 16, 2011
For Constance's contest "I fancy another sad poem"  Won no. 3





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Hope Less but Hopeful

Tranquility inside;
Tenderness within;
That’s my home, 
My mommy’s womb.

Fervently coveting to unite;
With the near and dear;
Certainly, shall indeed arise as a limelight;
Anxiously until…..

I heed loud screams, hue and cry;
Began to toss rapidly within,
Mommy began to run quickly thereby;
Panic-stricken, I continued to tailspin;

Alas!!! It was my last gulp of air;
I lay within, soundless;
My ideas and dreams devastated;
Mom rested speechless;
Dad howled deafeningly in pain;
He is missing me and so am I;

Those gigantic waves gushed in;
Took my breath away;
Took my dreams away;
Tsunami was the cause;
Helpless were numerous;
Effects were agonizing;
I lay cold;
I lay within;

God....
Why me?
What have I done?
Why have I been castigated?
Why can’t I talk to dad and mom?
Why have my dreams been shattered?
Why can’t I be there to explore the world?

Unanswered are these questions…..
I still lay rigid….

Tears flowing….
Hoping to get an answer;
Hoping to convince god;
I want to go back;
Back to the place where I came from;
A place full of dreams and aspirations
A place full of love and affection;

Alas!!!
I still lay cold
I still lay within…


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Honor of Friendship-Part One

08/20/2012
---------------------
In glowing light you saturate them in words of precious gold, honors adorned by you electing them to be your true friends. Telling me that you adore them, love them, so; that they listen quite often to what you say, that you can tell them anything without fear of them judging you and all the while I listen to such high praise. As you bestow upon them the highest honor one can receive from you-the gift of true friends- I listen, but I can’t help it as my mind wonders ‘where do I fit among those you praise’? Between the lines I remain, unsure as to where I truly belong.
Can I find myself; the monster, the witch, amongst these silver knights of yours, or shall I stay hidden, beside myself watching, loving, caring for you from afar?
I never really know just where I stand; I don’t know what or who I am to you.
But on you go about them, your true, amazing friends as I listen, secretly listening wish I too, could make you so happy. I hope that maybe someday, you will see just what you mean to me, that you’ll understand you are my one true friend-My best friend. The only one who has stayed by my side? And I’ll continue to listen to you. Continue to read all you write for the others, and I’ll continue to give you all I have until you hold the entirety of my heart in your hand until there’s nothing more of me but emptiness and all I have you shall receive, as it’s reserved for just you until the very last breath I have leaves me.
Never will you really know how your lack of words is so much louder than any words that could ever be spoken. But still I keep everything for you because you are everything to me-my best friend, the only one to have ever stuck around…I so wish I could do the same, but I am not like the others. I am the nothing that fills the empty space around you, the nothing that hovers and clings to you like a leech. I am a nobody, a nothing but a ‘someone’…
A someone unknown to most, a someone who cannot express a damned thing in a way that makes sense.
But still I sit by you, I stand by your side and hope you know I am here for you; always here forever. If ever you need someone to lean on, someone to carry you up the mountain of turmoil…I will.


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Erkallios

Erkallios
Arabic Poem by: Adnan Abu Andalus*
Translated into English by: 
Inaam Al-Hashimi (Gold_N_Silk) 
========================
No feather on his head
To escape hell
Erkallios
Was not a legendary hero of Rome
Nor a pirate with dreadlocks was he
 He was a soldier without a gun
 Guarding the land between the two grieves
 Conversing with himself
 And falls asleep with a whimper

Every night....
The Corporal gets down on his breath: 
“Get up it's time for your duty..
No matter how late you wake up
You will die!”
The sun generates the moment 
He begins to convey gunpowder
The storm spins 
The plane is hovering
Turns spirally
Explodes
And doomsday befell Erkallios!

The child died
The child, Erkallios, melted
 Between fire and iron
 Screaming as if the moment
 Splintered Mayday
 The sound returned disappointed
 He …died.. with .. his ... with his comrades!
The plane, a cemetery for forty
Is lying on the road
Black ....
Like a corpse of a dead whale
--------
Translated by Em. Prof. Inaam Al-Hashim
USA
*Adnan Abu Andalus is a poet from Iraq
“Erkallios” from his poetry collection  “The Smell of Doomsday”


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Momentary Reflection

I was paralyzed in thought,
and standing all alone;
Surrounded by darkness,
everything was gone...

With barely a glimpse, from the corner of my eye;
I was travelling so fast as I passed myself by.
I was moving at high speed, as if,
somehow out of time.

Thinking to myself, looking back into the distance;
Could I have been resting, 
or was there something on my mind;
Maybe, I was just Reflecting,
on some Moments from past times...

A Momentary Reflection,
I thought as I laughed;
Reflections of mistakes, so many in my past;
Or maybe the future, and thoughts of my death.

There's no point in thinking that anything can change;
I passed myself there and found myself here;
Crossroads unmarked, destination unphased,
Trembling,
like a lost dog, covered in mange...

A strength unfound, a desire to disappear;
A Momentary Reflection,
of how I found my way here.

As I watch myself in quiet,
with no desire to stop;
In slow motion I fall,
from a single gunshot...

A Momentary Reflection,
of where I stood at the start;
Maybe if I had slowed, or come to a stop,
this Moment I have witnessed,
the confusion and doubt;
Just maybe, somehow;
I could have found a way out...


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To the Siren of the faraway seas

I once thought to have the world within my grasp, that all I needed I already had.
I once thought to be unable to feel more happier than I was while you were around.
Only way to make it better, was to change our worlds of ones and zeroes to contact of the flesh itself.

Even though I realized it, I choose to deny it. I was sorely mistaken about you and I, and this and that.
You smiled when you lied about your feelings.
"I cannot give to you more than this" you said with an evil smirk while observing me from afar.
The smirk, was it real or imaginated?
I do not know, and I fear I will never know, my mind play tricks on me once and again.
Misleading me to believe, like it allowed me to believe in your words.

Words... Amazing how powerful it can be, use it well and one can find pleasure, use it well, and one can find the demise of the soul.
leaving an empty husk behind, like you left me. An empty husk longing to be filled, once again, with the colors of joy.

Coming from the other side of the world, I felt your words and disdain like piercing cold knives straight to my heart, once warm, now cold, since you left.
And following your words you went away to never come back.
Along with you, went away also the joy and happiness I dared to thought to be eternal, a sweet lie I was telling myself...

Even today, after so long, I still think about you and I, your mesmerizing gaze that made me forget and float, your enchanting laughter and the warm and soft touch I told myself that you had.
Touch that I will never feel, laughter I will never hear, again, and eyes that I will never meet, again.
When you left, I was torn, between love and hatred. Now the hatred is gone and the love morphed to friendship, which I would like to share with you.

The Mauritius girl, will my words reach you?
I guess they will not, but I like to hope, to dream.
Hopes and dreams, the accessories of the weak...
A weak being, that I am, a being to be filled with fake bliss, five by day.
Three by the sunrise and  two when the diamonds imbue the skies.
As like that, the curtains shall rise and fall before my eyes, at each passing empty day.

And so I live on, even if that means to not have you anyway I can... The only way I can...
For now, I just wonder, if will I ever find it again while I live? The joy and wonder, I mean.
I ask this chair, I ask the other me on the looking glass and I ask my shadow.
I guess these are the only companionships I will ever have until I meet my final doom.
My shadow, my other broken me and this chair and my memories, of you and I...


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My Grievance

I did nothing to you
I did my job
I worked hard
You didn’t help me
You had me 
At work until 7pm
Nightly for the first
Semester
As time rolled on
I started getting better
And you kept pouring
Showers of stormy weather
Giving me letters 
Stating false information
Doing everything
You can to wreck 
Celebrations
Tried to fail me
In observations
Boy did you
Dish a lot on my plate
I could never
Believe that one
Individual
Could relay
So much hate
Maybe I made
A mistake 
In wanting to succeed
The whole time
I stayed on my knees
You will be charged
For malfeasance
This is only
A fraction
Of my grievance.



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Honor of Friendship-Part Three

Once again silence envelopes me, like a thick blanket choking me, thrashing and panicking I wish to escape and wonder why you have left me like this? Why you have left me with such emptiness, such silence, digging into me, ripping me apart… “Please, do not abandon me…” I wish to say, to plead…to beg, but no words escape me for I can no longer breathe.
All I did was listen, that’s all I’ve ever done, and then…you’re gone and I feel so alone…so alone. Lost in a never ending darkness, floating aimlessly and I cannot find my way. All I did was listen, all I’ve ever done was listen, I was only ever by your side. Was that not enough? Did you want more? What more can I give? Please, tell me why must you hide, why must the silence over take us-me? Why must I be left on the sidelines…why must I be forgotten…?
When you speak with others, can you not speak with me as you speak with them? Do you feel shamed when spending time with me? Must our friendship be hidden? I do not understand… I wish to, I wish so much to understand you but I cannot. I cannot see when my only light is gone.
They are the only ones for you, they are your friends…I am the forgotten one. Abandoned; left behind, in silence, darkness, and sorrow. They are the ones for you, they are the ones you love, they are the ones you praise and honour…What am I? what am I?
Why do I surround myself around you, why do I care so much, when you obviously care so little? Do you even care at all? Am I just someone to fill the space, am I just someone to pass the time with until you can be with your real friends, once again leaving me on my own…

In glowing light you saturate them in words of precious gold, honors adorned by you electing them to be your true friends. Telling me that you adore them, love them, so; that they listen quite often to what you say, that you can tell them anything without fear of them judging you and all the while I listen to such high praise. As you bestow upon them the highest honor one can receive from you-the gift of true friends- I listen as you continuously adorn them with riches of words…

What am I to you? WHO am I to you? Will you ever say, will I ever know? Is there anything to say, anything to know? Or shall I always be left in the dark silence?


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Jack, Johnny, and Me (Repost)

So sad are days in this bitterness
and bitterest cold outside
Gone are friends and leaves 
and grass.
The walls are mocking me, laughing
I can feel me hating me with a passion
This is one of those dark days
I see them at play
The demons who play hell
Casting doubts and leaving
agony in the wake of sunrise
Until this day and I rest again
We will bear it like shackles
dragging loud chains
I will listen to music that worsens it.
I'll drink to the pain, as Im numbing it
Jack Daniels is no friend of mine
  just a confidant in the worst of times
There is no solace in this bottle
Only places to run and hide.
So today I hid from shadows and the sunshine
not letting one loom behind me
        or the other sting my eyes
Contemplating and making sad compilations
mixing and blurring memories
blend them into one absolute emotion
I'll wallow in this today
Looking at a distorted reflection
  it stares back from a whiskey meniscus
Johhny Cash murmured in the background
 smoke wafts through, plumes like lengthy
ghost fingers
  The sun will set on a day like this
It will creep back beyond the waterline
lighting clouds in surrealistic colors
Closure, comfort, and serenity seep in
This was one of those dark days
I grabbed it by the neck 
and conquered it
Jack, Johnny, and Me...


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Blasphemy

In the dawn of destruction, eyes look for salvation, hearts look for the lost prayer that could ease the pain, souls look for redemption from the screams and yells of men and women.

What have we become? Who are we?
Have we lost our humanity? Have we no sensuality?
Have we become a useless number that can be deposited with a bullet?
Have we turned into animals that can be hunted?
Have we no right?

Children who've lost their parents crying for righteousness, looking for pity from the eyes that caused blasphemy because of greed!
Why do we shoot bullets instead of handing flowers?
Why do we spit instead of swallow?!
Why are we trying our best to become heartless?
Why is your life more precious than mine?
Why do you live in the light of safety and warmth while we live in opacity and darkness?

We do not want your tears; we do not want your sympathy... Leave them to yourself; we do not need this help.
We are strong, our voice is loud and one day our hearts will be unbound.
This is my letter for the people who still have the heart and strength to raise their voice against dictatorship and colonialism. 
Raise your hands and pray that the judgment day does not come soon, for we are not yet ready to go to hell.


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In Vietnam

I had just turned eighteen, when the order came.
For long as I live, I’ll never be the same;
I was told that day I was going away,
To Vietnam.
 
I remembered that day, as my feet hit the ground,
As all around me came the sound,
Of the guns and screams,
In Vietnam.

Our leader ordered us to the trees,
Where everyone got on his knees,
To try and destroy the enemy,
In Vietnam.

We tried to stand, but the odds were too great,
And so we retreated before it was too late.
The fight continued another day,
In Vietnam.

We marched through forest, swamp and marsh,
Through weather fair, and weather harsh.
We endured a living hell, 
In Vietnam.

Friends were made and friends were lost,
The freedom we have came at their cost.
The price of war is often high, but not like that
Of Vietnam.

A hero’s welcome, I thought, for sure;
But nothing was farther from what I endured
When I got back
From Vietnam.

The price we paid was soon forgot,
For peace and ignorance is what was sought.
The truth died there,
In Vietnam.


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It Was Raining Tears

Last night, just last night I wish again she was here I thought it would be best I wonder this is a sign and I took notice and begin to feel the energy Only last night I looked up to that Star There was none other shining brighter and coming to life once again She flash before me, I reached with both hands thinking of her tragedy, she was involved in Only if I could pull her beside me in that moment before she drift away Dreaming in sorrow, I woke up it was raining tears in June


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1972, Butcher's Corner

Painted ladies 
Platform boots 
Mini skirts 
Stockings, garter belts 

Low slung Vs 
Bubbling over with mottled mummeries 
Hanging around Butcher’s Corner 
On the hook 

The pray orbit 
Slowing down, speeding up 
Slow…gone 
Around a corner, back again 

Red car arrives 
A Tom tentatively 
Extends his index finger 
‘You’ 

Chubby whore saunters over 
Too much sass 
For that much ass 
She leans in the car window 

‘Head?’ 
‘Ten quid.’ 
He scans her lumps, ‘I’ve got five.’ 
‘Go on then.’ 

[We’ll be eating tonight] 

Opening the door 
Pushing the passenger seat forward 
Saying 
‘In the back, stay low.’ 

Ums and ahs; disgruntled, shamed 
Hard times, little pride 
Squeezing titanic thighs in-between fake leather 
Beehive head pressed to the back seat 

Familiar odors filling her lungs 
Milk, cough drops 
Shampoo, crayons 
Telltale signs of little ones 

Nostalgia boils 
Gulping, suppressing tears 
Shoving guilt from her nut 
There’s work to be done, no regrets 

Tires churn pebbles 
Arrival at Rubber John Alley 
Her office 
A life 

His zipper strains a loaded gun 
In under five minutes 
Dirty deed done 
Not even time to soft boil an egg 

With blind ego intact she declines a ride back 
Done for the night, enough flow 
Over the road 
Into the park 

To three little girls identically dressed 
On swings, dangling legs 
Ultra-white socks to their knees 
Giggling 


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honor of Friendship-Part Two

I listen, and I’ll always listen because I will do anything for you, I would die to keep you safe and alive. I would do whatever to make you feel better. And so, I listen as you talk about them, these amazing friends of yours…Only some I have met. How lucky they are to have such devotion, how lucky they are to not feel the sting of betrayal and abandonment; thrust upon their spine crippling them to a state of fear, anger, and distrust.
How lucky they are to have you, how lucky I am to have you.
Do you understand, do you see just how much I love you?
 Soul such as yours deserves only the best; perhaps that is where I fault, I bring upon you sadness and pain, until all you do is go silent hiding behind solid doors. Composing words of sorrow, and they stab me like a sword in the gut…Closed off, shut away from you-I cannot function like this. I lose my way, I lose everything, I cannot be kept away, please open up to me… ‘DO NOT SHUT ME OUT’ I cry…I don’t want to lose you, yet I feel as though I already have; I feel as if I never really had you all along-not truly. That everything I believed, everything I have come to know is fake. An act, a show you put on until you can no longer pretend to care anymore so when the opportunity comes along you go silent and drop me. I am left forgotten, wondering what happened…Seconds, minutes, hours go by and nothing. I lose control, I panic and my bleeding heart reacts. Maybe you did not mean it though, but maybe you did…I don’t know and I’m not sure I ever really will know and my mind spins like a top…I don’t know what to do, or say…or think. Do you even care? Did you ever care, or did you just pretend so you did not have to face me? If you were given the opportunity would you forget who I am, would you abandon me in the unforgiving tide, left alone to fight against the waves, until all I have given you-all the memories flood me until I drown, going down to the pit of nothing…? The pit of lies that you made, would it be easy to turn you back on me, leave me to fight alone this losing battle until you are no longer burdened by me…? And when I am gone, will you finally feel free?


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Our Little Girl

The light I see
In your eyes
only when I speak of her.
Our little one.
She would have had your eyes,
your nose.
she would have had my hair 
and my my mouth.
Our little girl would have been perfect.
But that horrible day in July,
I cried and I hated myself.
That horrific day in July when I lost her.
My world broke down.
Now when I speak of her. 
Your eyes water up, 
as do mine.
But one day we'll see her. 
I promise.
Our little girl, 
is waiting for us.
I promise.
And one day,
she'll finally say daddy.
Our little girl.


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The Hobo

Time's moments takes it's toll
 adding gravitational pull
 
To a body, so weighed down
 His chin can touch the ground
 
With pain visible on his face
 He lives sans his wit, and grace
 
A life of selfishness, his crime
 now sentenced, to a duel with time
 
And time's blatent tenacity
 plus it's control over eternity
 
Reminds the man how much it's cost
 for him to realize what he's lost
 
So he wears time's final wrath
 As he walks life's thorny path
 
All alone without a friend
 He walks the path to journey's end


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Grizzly

Three truant scholars spending our sabbaticals
in crisp Colorado, we all re-read Walden,
dared to drink from streams so icy clear
the fish seemed suspended in mid-air.
Our flimsy nylon shelters shielded us
from what weather there was to worry on,
as summer slipped to autumn
and autumn waned winterward.

We walked well-wooded hillsides
of mixed conifers and broadleaf;
in deep drafts we breathed the earthy air,
interpreting the dent and trace of tracks.
Four full years past we trekked those trails
through stands of timber frequented by fox,
by birds, by deer -- and by growling grizzlies.

Now, when my son hugs his honey bear,
red-jacketed, black-button eyed,
I see the hellish maw, the blooded claw,
of the brownish-yellow raging beast
that tore off my arm and maimed two sages,
amid the yellow quaking aspen
where, yet, that gory grizzly ages.


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Last Love

Love – a single word to relieve from all sorts of stress
A curing medicine fromcomplete sickness
A boosting therapy to energize oneself
A high-drug tablet to overcome worries
A model which doesn’t tear to pieces
A preservative to save human soul
A magical garden having summer throughout  the year
A blooming flower whose fragrance never sheds
A virus which cannot be shattered
A strange feel sometimes at first sight.

An endless stream taking source from mountains-where
 There is no instance of water foundation
  With neither a beginning nor an end
Starting from the eyes,
 stimulating the pulses,
entering the tissues,
 electrifying veins,
piercing the brainpower,
 pressurizing the blood vessels,
widening sensational thoughts,
 demolishing every part of incapability,
facing world with a chuckle in cheeks.

 -were the symptoms happened to me – when
  I too was caught as a victim.
It inspired whole organs of the body,
  making it a slave to Him.
Though grasped my heart's room for a short occasion - and
  Even if the person doesn’t deserve to be placed,
     The position is impossible to be replaced by any other
I was suspected to be flying far above ozone
  unaware my legs are static and silent in soil
Unsure of its advent, keyed up with its anticipation, 
  Moved at its motivation, wretched due to its annulment-and 
Now I’m in a lifeless state after the Loss of all my GAINS.

Clutching his hands, 
Clinging his shoulders,
Hours of conversations,
Desire to fulfill his every wishes ?
Locking my voice, when his anger raises,
A divine compromise following a huge quarrel,
Lived like a couple for awhile, unconscious that it was a play. . 
Believed of  walking unto the glittery path,
 I fell into the sun-which Burnt me entirely 
From brain cells destroying throughout my flair.

Clarify my doubts:
Am I attracted to your affectionate masculine talks?
	Is my mind polluted with your filthy lies?
	Is that warmth friendliness mistaken as Love?
	Is Possessiveness mistaken as Love?
	Is an act of care mistaken as Love?
	Is your Fleeting look mistaken as Love? Or else
	Is it substantial bodily Lust mistaken as Love?
Even after knowing U are a cheat, why couldn’t I ignore U?
May be I might have chosen a wrong person to love.
       But my Love never went wrong… being contented with my sorrows and tears.
Its my journey treasuring the pleasurable pain of my Last Love * * 		$$Good Bye$$


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Tim in the Skies

I woke up screaming
from one of my dreams.
Stuck my face in a pillow
to muffle the screams.	

It's hard to watch
someone else die.
Are you up there watching
as I search the sky?

I'm looking for answers.
God gives me a few.
The answers are empty
down here without you.

I should have died.
Not you my dear friend.
You just tried to help me
and I dreamed it again.

The knife in your heart.
Your eyes that just stared.
I hate to admit this
but I was so scared.

I was the first one
to fall to the floor.
Kicked,beaten,and stabbed.
But there would be more.

I curled into a ball
and I should have stayed there.
Frank and your brother appeared
and both asked me,"where?"

I pointed as they ran.
there were to many to fight.
But they both rushed right in.
It was satan's delight.

I got up and followed.
Didn't know what else to do.
I walked right through the carnage
and that's when I saw you.

You asked me what happened.
But I was out of my mind.
I said I was jumped 
and then we both looked behind.

There was your brother falling
with ten guys on him 
and like Frank and Dan
you just rushed right in.

We both watched in horror
as Dan curled into a ball.
Then you grabbed this guy
and threw him into the wall.

Then everything was slow motion.
Guys were flying through the air.
I could barely see anything 
but all I did was stare.

You were making them run
but one still wanted to fight.
That's when I rushed in.
He had this big knife.

I got there too late.
I grabbed you where you fell.
The look in your eyes
is my own private hell.

You died in my arms.
Some of me died there too.
It's been thirty years now.
Thirty years without you.

Why did it happen Lord?
Will I ever know?
Will Tim ever forgive me?
Do I want to know?

A nightmare that lives
after I close my eyes.
A dream that makes me
search for Tim in the skies.

For my Best friend Tim Gitchel who was murdered on 2/12/1979 in Oxnard CA at the 
movie theatre when we tried to see The Warriors. I miss you buddy. RIP


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Scars

.The survivors. Yes, that's what we call ourselves. We've lived through the terrors of life. 
Gentle hands, soft spoken, safe in his arms. Obey, and listen, and the swirling melody of 
love plays throughout the scene. And yet, this masquerade is always broken to reveal the 
truth. Words sharper than daggers explode around our ears. Bruises appear on our skin. 
We've "fallen", the clumsy females we are. We fell. A sports injury, a car crash, a freak 
accident. Freak accident of hatred. Much like the lion, quiet and stalking, and then exploding 
into a flurry of the hunt. Of the hurt. Swift blows, and blood drips from noses, tears stream 
from eyes in a silver river of desperate please, bruises decorate us in tawnys and majestic 
purples. Reminders of our "wrong doings". We need to pay for our sins. The only witness are 
the walls, and the moonbeams that dance about our dizzy heads. On the ground. Steel toes 
to the back. A crack. Fire. Pain. And then, a cool silence. The rage subsides, and apologies 
appear. "I'll never do it again" and "I lost control" replay in the back of our heads. Our deja-
vu from the previous night. Always the same. Always the pain. The survivors. Thats what we 
call ourselves. And by the dark dance of the moon against the velvet sky, as stars twinkle 
like sequins, and fade into the dawn, we pick ourselves up. New excuses. New plates to buy. 
A new alarm clock. New knives, doors, but no new hearts, stabbed until the hemmoragging 
hurts like a firestorm. Alone. We are alone. We, the Survivors, have lived not an apocalypse, 
not a plane crash, but the darkest part of our lives. Therapy can lock it away, but never 
remove the dark stain of dried blood upon our souls. Lost. We come together, and escape. 
We start anew, but are never the same. Dark dreams, paranoia haunting our shadows, and 
the jumps that come with shattered glass of the clink of dishes. Never the same, but 
stronger. What doesn't kill you is sure to leave a horrible scar, but wounds heal And while 
scars remain as a reminder of the pain endured, we are, for the better, stronger. We 
survived.

.


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My Birthday Wish

I sit on the floor and wait from dusk to dawn, for a new day will soon be reborn. I count all 
the blooming flowers, and count down the long hours, while mum takes her shower. 
Today's the day, for it's my birthday. I hope I get A car, or A guitar or maybe even become 
A movie star, but that's asking A bit too much of me. I walk around singing out A loud, 
acting proud feeling as if my heads in A cloud. To my surprise I start stumbling over my 
words and begin mumbling. Maybe mum just forgot about me, or are they just hiding the 
presents from me? I walk through the hall, with my head dragging looking at the floor, 
and go to bed with my heart feeling torn. It's getting late and I can no longer wait. I turn 
off my light, and close my eyes and cry having so much things go through my mind. I 
drift to sleep but then I see, mum walking in my room in the middle of the night with A 
light. It's so bright. She raises my heart like A kite, taking of it flight and she says, good 
night, and turns of the lights. She raised my hopes high and then shot them out of the 
sky. I break down and cry, it feels as if I've just died. No one remembered why today was 
A special day for it was my birthday. I look at the sky and wonder why? I light my candle 
and close my eyes, tears dripping down onto my thighs, and I start to whisper in my 
mind. "I don't want A car, or even A guitar. I don't even want to become A movie star. I 
just want to be free of this disease called poverty, I just want people to stop running away 
from me. Free me of aids so I can stop feeling afraid. Stop me from being poor, so I can 
afford to stop sleeping on the floor. Make me smile for there is no reason to smile, but 
please make my life worth while. Take me away from Africa, for all I see is people being 
raped and all the kids hearts filled with hate, I'm loosing my faith for I am living each day 
even though there is nothing to live for". A Tear drops on my candle, And puts out the 
flame I whisper in pain,This is "My Birthday Wish"
 
We wish for luxuries that only money can afford. They wish for water for they are poor. 
People need to learn to smile, for kids living in poverty have A legitimate reason not too. 
Be happy for what we have, and never complain for what we don't have.
 
- Wiko Te Maru


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The Figures' Memory

=============================
The Figures' Memory 
Arabic Poem by: Abdulsadah Al-Basri
Translated into English by:
Inaam Al-Hashimi (Gold_N_Silk)
=============================

The Day we devised oblivion 
We were canned in our memories 
And sent down by the clouds 
To body lust 
Our children slipped one after another 
From between our fingers 
And our women became wrapped in whispers
And contempt 
So we reconciled  
With our dreams 
As the night abused us   
And the birds lay 
At the stops of our lives!!!
--------------
 Translated into English by: Em. Prof. Inaam Al-Hashimi
 * Abdulsadah Al-Basri is a poet from Iraq


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The Good The Bad and The Ugly

‘Let me help you’ I heard a voice say,
From a sweet little old man as he walked my way.
I was twice his size, my bags weighed a ton,
But he came and took them and carried them some.
‘Thank you, you are so kind.’ I said to him
As he placed my bags down with a shy little grin.
‘No thank you for letting me help you, there’s not many that would
but you let me help you, and now I feel good.
I still like to feel useful, and like any man I am still vain,
My pride would be shredded, my heart would feel pain
I looked at this little man, while I popped the hood
He looked so happy, that he made me feel so good.

I returned home the shopping now all completed
Unloading my car I was nearly defeated.
There seemed to be lots more now I had reached home
And I had to stop for a moment to answer my phone.
As quick as a flash someone hit me hard
He pushed me aside and I fell in the yard.
He jumped in the car and drove off really mad.
I never thought I could feel quite this bad.

Order restored things back to normal
I pondered my day with the policeman quite formal.
It looks like there is a spate of this, in this road.
I am sorry that you have had to carry this load.
At least you don’t see life as a fairytale book,
But there is beauty in this world if you know where to look.
I locked eyes with this Adonis in uniform, as he winked at me,
He said in my job the ugly side of life, is what I see.

Think back to this morning to your happier mood
You made an old man happy and that is all for the good.
You are made sad by your loss and I know that’s bad.
But worse could have happened so don’t feel so sad.
 Life can be hard but listen to me.
 Theers just as much good in it as bad and ug – ly.
 
Please don’t feel sad this did not happen to me 
But someone I know in another county.
It happened almost as you read it here
They are well and ok now and have got over the fear
 


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My World

when i think of my world its all a dream
in my dream world people don`t just come and go
but in the regular world they do\

i wish this world had people last forever
i would`ve never thought i would be facing realiity
where i wouold have to see my grama go and disappear


now i see theres a time where people get sick and might have to pass away
until then you going to have to deal with it in the only way that you can 
and my way is talking about writing about my feelings in poem 

sometimes i just think that life can be a preiouse thing or i might just say sometimes life can 
be thorn up and thrown away. i just dont get why when people are close to you they just die and go away.
some say to a better place is it true 

some may say its crazy to question a thing like that or they might even say that you won`t get in to heavean like that
but what i belive is that there is one but not everyone always get in the place called heavean.  depends on there soul.. but i hope when the times write when the time comes her precouice soul will be protected by a such thing callled i dont know God. i dont  question it i know i belive in it but i do wonder sometimes about it. is it true what they say or just they saying mytholical things so everything can blown away

i watch people abandon 
i watch someone die 
i even watched a women who lived a lie
i know whats wright 
i know whats wrong but tell me this is whats right not wtong

im confused im depressed help me now so i can be happy as an lovely dove if best

            writen for hope to anyone that lost someone that was really close to them 
R I P my loving grandma


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Whiskey Wishes

from this barstool i have sat waitting for some moment 
of insiperation to come to me 
But the only thing that that comes to me is
a bartender with another drink.

And in empty reflection lost in a jukebox's song
played by a lonley heart shooting pool.
I cant recall where the spark went.
maybe it fell to floor like the ash from a cigarette.

the page waits at home like a wife waitting in worry as her husban is off doing God knows  
what  so worried only wishing he'd return.
And when he does the fear fades and the anger kicks in.

The bottle doesnt hold a key but it does know me well.
I kiss it's fiery lips and cant resist it's charm.
so I sit with it passing hours in a dance that will end in
nothing but another wasted night  and a bitter morning taken
out apon my  mind.

In a swirl of hungover thoughts id leave half written pages.
To soon find themselves collecting with my ever growing arsenal  of 
drunken rants.
All ending bitter and cold.

But when the whiskey hits I'll make such great plans 
that will never be.   
I'll write that epic that will keep in the minds 
other writers.
And in the warm arms of women who wanna love a 
trainwreck just to say they've known what it's like.

Whiskey wishes are like sparks from a much larger fire.
the sparks fly off into the midnight sky.
only to fade befor are very eye.


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Living Today

Living Today

By BJ Welsh

Waiting for the answer to come
Makes one’s life even more hum drum
Sitting and staring without any news
Is an impossible feat if that’s what you choose

How much longer can one be idle?
Losing one’s outlook as well their title
It’s easy to say just keep busy
The thought of moving makes one dizzy

It’s time to get over it, the pain of error
A life one used to treasure
But did you really believe that theory
Or did you grow tired and a bit weary?

Yourself or others, for whom did you live?
Did you really have all to give?
Suddenly, you put an end to it all
Now you have to accept the fall

Moving on is not so easy
The thought would make anyone queasy
Looking for acceptance in a loving place?
First try your young child’s face









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THOUGHTS ON THE MATTER

Written for Grace Keithley-Lee to express her thoughts on a particular matter

THOUGHTS ON THE MATTER I want to express my thoughts On this matter at hand A matter concerning A relationship of a good man Though it’s not my business To interfere or say what’s what He happens to be my brother I feel his pain down in my gut The relationship started off With so much love flowing They were the perfect couple And all could see them glowing Their happiness was an example That inspired me all the time To know that a good relationship I certainly would also be able to find I did find my true love About three years ago At that time their love Was still perfectly so I really don’t know Where it all went wrong A seemingly perfect love Now ending and saying so long It really matters not why Or what the reasons may be We should wish them the best In both their separate journeys Sure everyone has their sides To the story as it now goes It is really just between them Their feelings no one knows We should not speculate Of who did what or would Or even dig around for the dirt We should only remember the good There is good and bad in everything That’s one thing we all know is true They both need our support because Breaking up is hard enough to do There is no need in degrading To either one or the other The cruelty of the words Are painful to my brother Sometimes relationships Just need to come to an end Even if both are good people We can still lose a good friend Things were said in a hurtful way And were not really necessary Now I’ve also lost a close friend And that really does hurt to me Just a note now that it is over It was her choice to walk away I choose to remember the good No matter what any others say I ask all of you to please Let them handle it, if you will With moving ahead in their futures Letting their hearts to begin to heal Florence McMillian (Flo)


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Soul Searching

To shout outwards in ease is who we are
we think.
Then we whisper looking inside to find
something left behind
rancid
We realize we haven't found ourselves
yet, we pretend
we've been looking
but we haven't really.
It's all too scarey like Kafka's Gregory
afraid we'll wake up like roaches
too pitiful to live.
We place our masks on in the morning 
for it's too bright out in the sun
a different face we lean on at night
whether full moon or not.
I've noticed people are reticent to soul search
they're too afraid of what they might find.
I've looked
I've found
I'm not quite sure what I'll do now.
This new found information leaves
me lost.


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Reinaldo Arenas

His first poems
Were carved with a knife
On the tree trunks in the countryside
He wrote in prison
He wrote high up in the trees
In Havana`s parks where
He hid from the Cuban police
In his new island-jail
In his shabby apartment
Illuminated by Manhattan lights
Very tired, very ill
In a sea of paper
He wanted to die by the sea
And when the night fell
The death crawled
Together with pills and alcohol
His sadness as deep as the sea
Was burnt and ashes scattered at the sea


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I Understand

The things we bury within our mind
like a ravenous forager returning a find
all the cracks between our multiple side
along with the secrets we try to hide
drowning in illusory shames false tide

respectability can be a curse
not being yourself is even worse
to live a life that's not your choosing
neglected in love and left for boozing
rather ignored than regular bruising
we all get just one short life at a time
before our return to the eternal sublime
just being yourself, enough mountain to climb
can't lose yourself forever, in wondrous rhyme
thoughts can have a solitary hold
so take my hand, let's run, be bold
I want to show you Love before death or old
forget instructions, or father might scold
we dream a story that deserves to be told
the warmth I feel, just knowing you're there
all that's against us, I'm tearing my hair
your hand I desire, much more than air
see, a storm always subsides, weather turns out fair
so please kindly relinquish, any pent up despair
you can't let go of hope or optimism
living by someone else's mannerism
Otherwise, you have lived your life inside a prison,
 forced to live inside a prism!
©John-Ovan.P.Hull


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Alone in my Pain by Anthony Figueroa 7th grade

I'm in pain
I feel alone
and when I cry
tears fall like rain.

When I leave my love
it hurts inside
and when you're not around me
I feel alone.

When I call you 
it feels like you're next to me
and when I hang up
I cry because you're not there.


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Watchin' You Die

Waken’ up alone
Bare feet hit the floor
Three a.m doors aint locked
Two windows wide open
The garage door is up 
And your car’s still here
I can smell it in the air,
That sick metallic smell.
No use lookin’ anymore
Your body’s here but your mind sure ain’t
How much do you love the smoke?
Can I compete?
The smell’s strong, you’re gettin’ close
Do I wait? Should I go back in?
Will it start a fight?
I wait and watch
You ain’t put it out yet
So I sit at your feet
Lookin’ up at you
Watchin’ you die. 


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Not the Better One

She’s the better one
Beautiful and what you deserve
Comparison is not an option
A rock to a diamond
I make little to none shine
And she can make mountains
Upon a hill of grind

Full with hate of what I've become to day
Disgusted with the monster
That’s been created an atomic bomb
And I feel all the shame
Wishing to change everyday
I am a nothing compared to that

Perfect is what she is
Cute is what you two are
Monstrous is what I am
Killing is what you’re doing
Burning away every dream is what’s happening
She is better one
Wishing it was me
She is the better one


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Today Is September 1 2007

On this day 16 years ago a beautiful baby girl was born.
As I cried they took her away.
My grandmother watching as if nothing were wrong.
Photos came for a brief moment then stopped
She was gone never to be herd from or seen.
It seemed as if she just vanished.
The agencies said her new family had moved.
No forwarding address to be found.
They apologize for the inconvenience.
Trying to convince me not to give up hope.
Hope what is this, something I find hard to have.
Years have come and gone and not a word.
The last photo I reserved she must have been 3 or 4 years old.
My search it still continues today, 
but not a trace of her or her family do I see.
On this the anniversary of her birth
 I still cry for the loss of my baby girl I bore so long ago.


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Life Sucks

With her husband still in the Psychiatric Ward following his mental breakdown, she felt the need to go in for a few hard drinks.

        With the trunk of his car still full of his belongings thrown out of the house
        by his wife, he really had no better place to go.

Her reflection in the mirror behind the bar confirmed the feeling that she had hit rock bottom.

        Having not frequented a bar in the twenty years since his son was born, 
        he wasn’t sure what drink to order.

She didn’t bother to wipe away the tear that travelled down her cheek and dropped onto the top of the bar.

        He wasn’t aware that his mumblings were audible to the woman 
        sitting down two stools away.

“You’ve got that right.”

        “I’m sorry … what?”

“You said, ‘Life sucks’, and I agree.”

        “Huh – yeah, it sure does.”

The vacant stool between them provided enough buffer to freely dump their souls to a perfect stranger without feeling too imposed upon. Then, finally, he occupied that stool so they could clink together their glasses in a toast to an unfair life.
She climbed out of bed, looked at the hotel clock which displayed the wrong time, and headed towards the shower. He looked under the covers to confirm that the clothes scattered around the room were his. She got dressed without saying a word, looked at him with a sad smile and walked out of the hotel room in a neighborhood she was not familiar with. He checked his phone to see if there were any missed calls from his wife … there were none.


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TOMORROW, A BLURRED VERSION OF MY TODAY

He promised, 
he would not do it again
it was a once off thing
but his anger is so uncontrollable
it makes him so unpredictable…

now I walk around on edge all the time
waiting,
anticipating,
when it will happen again
he said it is only because 
he loves me…

I’m so confused
“do you think love constitutes hitting me?”
“do you think I deserved it?”
Maybe I should have ironed his shirt like he asked
Maybe, just maybe he would not have slapped me…

He did give me a diamond necklace 
to show how sorry he was the first time
but last night he turned on me again
I could not go to work today
I will have to stay in doors for a while…

I can’t look anybody in the face
My eye half shut and inflamed 
They will think I deserved this,
He did say it is my fault

Tomorrow, I’m going try to be a better wife
And not give him a reason to lash out at me
I wonder how many tomorrow’s I’ll see,
through half opened eyes…

*Ps: This is a piece I wrote a while back inspired by the women I worked with who was in 
abusive relationships*


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Sylvia Plath

Students study her sadness
Librarians hide away her books
From clumsy, shy teenagers
While she floats like a golden lotus
Amidst fierce flames
She doesn't even remember that winter morning
When she went into her kitchen
And turned on the gas –
The world was cold on that day
Grey people, hidden sun, black moon,
Clouds were falling from the sky -  
Tired of writing books,
While her life was a book,
Abandoned book with torn pages
She went into her kitchen
And turned on the gas –
She broke her bell jar,
Shut her eyes
Her face was calm,
Like a golden lotus
Amidst fierce flames


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Fear Of Happiness

Happiness is something I always fear, 
To me ,It is far away and never near, 
Patient waiting for over severals years. 
Happiness comes, but  quickly disappears. 

Few days of joy , followed by years of sorrows, 
Will I ever get to see a happy tomorrow? 
I am happy to be sad ,it forms my routine, 
Cant just keep wiping my tears umpteen. 

A moment of joy forces me to worry, 
Any huge sorrow ,to make me teary? 
My tears have dried now and let them be, 
I am happy to be sad , as sad can be. 

Smiles and laughter, not meant for me, 
Darkness and sorrows are my cup of tea, 
I fear happiness , it kills me. 
Life is mourning,and thats it for me. 


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Passing Meadows

Passing Meadows!

The trees are green and bubbling outside
They look so luscious and full of life;
But all i do is sit at my window
And look over passing meadows.

The wind is blowing but very subtly
Creasing the waters along so gently;
But all i do is sit at my window
And look over passing meadows.

Way up in the sky, beauty is what I see
Cotton wool animals floating so free;
But all i do is sit at my window
And look over passing meadows.

If I had one wish, and one wish only
It would be to dwell in the heavenlies
On the earth below and just make my mark;
If only I could walk!


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All I Wanted

For years
I have always cried myself to sleep,
But that started after those bullies' words
Began to creep
Into my mind,
My optimism and happiness had become blind.
Making me think that I was always alone.
I seen how I was bratty and seemed to be happy,
But inside,
My inner sadness resides.
The tears that I cried
Were all about me wanting or needing
Someone to be by my side.
Every night
I wished for a less lonelier life.
Nobody could come over or sleep over sometimes
And I would be doing nothing
Except for thinking
About my life's meaning.
A close friend was all I've been asking for:
Someone who would talk to me everyday,
Even when the sky's grey.
Someone who would listen to me carefully
And comfort me later on in the day.
All I wanted
Was a true friend.


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What Do You See

I found this old poem while helping to clean out a house that was vacant. I hope you 
don't mind that I didn't write it but it was too awesome not to post. Enjoy--------
          

                                   What Do You See

What do you see, nurses? What do you see?	
What are you thinking when your looking at me? 
A crabby old women, not very wise.
Uncertain of habit, with faraway eyes.
Who dribbles her food and makes no reply.
When you say with your loud voice, "I do wish you'd try."
Who seems not to notice the things that you do,
and forever is losing a sock or a shoe.
Who unresisting or not lets you do as you will.
When bathing and feeding, the long day to fill.
Is that what your thinking, is that what you see?
Then open your eyes nurse, your not looking at me.
I'll tell you who I am as I sit here so still.
As I drink at your bidding, as I sit at your will.
I'm a small child of 10 with a father and mother.
Brothers and sisters who love one another.
A young girl of 16 with wings on her feet.
Dreaming that soon now a lover she'll meet.
A bride soon at 20. my heart gives a leap.
Remembering the vows I primised to keep.
At 25 now I have young of my own.
Who need me to build a secure happy home.
A women of 30, my young now grow fast.
Bound to each other with ties that should last.
At 40 my young sons near grown will be gone.
But my man stays beside me to see I don't mourn.
At 50 once more babies play round my knee. 
Again we know children, my loved one and me.
Dark days are upon me, my husband is dead.
I look to the future and shudder with dread.
For my young ones are busy rearing young of their own.
And I think of the years and the love that I've known.
I'm an old women now and nature is cruel.
It's her jest to make old age look like a fool.
The body it crumbles, grace and vigor depart.
There now is a stone where I once had a heart.
But inside this old carcass a young girl still dwells.
And now and again my battered heart swells.
I remember the joys, I remember the pain.
And I'm loving and loving life over again.
I think of the years, all the few--gone to fast.
And accept the stark fact that nothing can last.
So open your eyes nurses, open and see.
Not a crabby old women, look closer,  see ME.

This poem was found among the effects of a patient who died at the Oxford
University Geriatric Service in England. Author is unknown.


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Anne Sexton

There is an old library
With thousands of  books
Big books, little books,
Happy books, sad books
Books with pictures,
Books with words,
On some nights
Tiny black words
Call their authors
They sing, they laugh,
They whisper or twitter
Anne's books cry
They call her and ask
Did we make you go insane
Did we make you be honest
Did we make you be brave
Number our sins. Number.
Did we order you to
Put on your mother's old fur coat,
To lock yourself in the garage
And start the engine of your car
Did we tell you to poison yourself
From the grave write to us, Anne,
Write to us. Write.
Forgive us. Forgive.
Say we didn't.
Say.



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The Forsaken

His smile be but a crooked lie,
All truth and beauty evade his reach,
The childlike purity hath left his eyes,
He hides from them, a cowardice leech.

He hath feasted upon the mortal soul,
His bloodied hands forever drenched,
Guilt leads him now, to feed upon filth,
His hunger and thirst nevermore to be quenched.

Within his ageless porcelain shell,
An old accursed fiend doth weep,
For he stole the breath of innocence,
Their restless ghosts now steal his sleep.

The pleasant warmth of the sunlit morn,
Hath shunned him all too soon,
Thus, the only light that dares to greet him,
‘Tis the scornful smile of the Moon.

Not even God’s angels waste their tears,
For hell is grasping at his feet,
He would readily welcome the Reaper’s scythe,
But Death cannot chill what does not beat.

And should he accept the gift of love,
By his undying kiss, they shall suffer his fate,
To sacrifice all sanity and mortality,
For an eternal life of sadness and hate.

This be his infinite penance, 
A penalty he is forced to pay,
To live alone amongst God’s creatures,
As the Forsaken, day by day.


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Old Age-A curse ?

Lying on this bed at the walls I stare..
With no one to bother and no one to care...
neither can I see ,hear or walk...
Nor do I have someone to talk..

Disabled me, an old bag of bones,
Alone I live ...just left to mourn,
Abandoned by children, family and friends..
All I want now ..to reach my end!!!

Old age..into me it sinks..
Sadness and loneliness ..me it kills..
Brings along all troubles and illness,
Snatches away my joy and wellness..


I too was young some day oh dear!!
Wanted by all..far and near..
Today I am old and near my end..
So by all.. to be abandoned?


All I ask is for some love ,my dear..
Nothing else I want, why do you fear?

To all youth today I say...
Youth is a phase which soon passes away..
Old age for all..Is here to stay..


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Under the full moon she was

Even before birth, she was bedeviled with claws,
Her dark skin still dry even when it rains and pours,
Leaning forward she tries to cut the African papaws;
Through it all, under the full moon she was.

It was sad when they beheaded the outlaws,
Their culture never stood on a pause.
Obeying the elders, her heart misses the one she loves;
Through it all, under the full moon she was.

The nights silence let her know that a bee can buzz,
the moon drifts, inevitable was the cause.
She regretted the day tradition labelled her family outlaws;
Through it all, under the full moon she was.



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An Old Photo

That still fresh old photograph of you
astride a spotted pony, bare feet
dangling as limply as your torn dress:
the background was a high veranda,
cool green trimmed with gingerbread.

A small boy sat the animal with you --
two solemn and handsome children
upon a well-fed pony, photographed
by an itinerant in the thirties --
the time frozen as long as the picture
or our fading memories of it may last.

The boy, our brother,
did little in his forty years;
but now, we see his boy's eyes,
soft, liquid, serious, sad,
no hint of smile about them;
we weep his loss.

And you, sister:
alert, protective, girl's face
set to fend off the world --
cast so early in your role
as the family glue
holding us all together.


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Legacy of an Artist

Pigments of color,
form the shapes,
that create an image,
of you,
within my mind.

The first aspect,
I view within your portrait,
is the permanent smile,
etched upon,
your blissful face,
cloaked with the,
celestial aura,
that captivated all,
who have the privilege,
of knowing,
the beauty,
of your soul.

As I glance,
into your deep,
brown eyes,
that shimmer,
with enthusiasm,
I am reminded,
of your passion,
for all aspects,
of existence,
that expresses,
the lines,
that unite to demonstrate,
how you always,
lived life,
to the fullest.

Your humor,
echoes through,
my ears,
as I reminisce,
 of how you place a smile,
 upon the faces,
of your loved ones,
who were brightened,
by your personality,
unique,
bold,
compassionate,
affirming,
kind,
and irreplaceable.

The heart of a saint,
courage of a lion,
don’t come close,
to describing the values,
that distinguish,
you from,
anyone else.
You changed,
lives on a daily basis;
you gave me,
memories to last a lifetime.

You strum,
my heart strings,
in a way,
that no one else can replay.

I now notice,
hues of your portrait,
are fading,
from vibrant,
to banal neutrals;
the colors of my life,
began to vanish,
leaving a laceration,
of despair.

Out of sight,
sound,
and touch,
though you are intangible,
you shall never,
escape my heart,
nor depart from my mind.

The brush,
never forgets,
how to paint,
a masterpiece;
an illustration of you,
shall remain within,
my spirit,
through actions,
that delineate,
your legacy.


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''Awake''

I lye here weak,alone,feeling helpless.
If only my muffled thoughts were clear.
Wounds cover,yet pain is not displayed.
The sound of rushing feet.
Through brush and thorns bright lights surrounds me.
In the darkest of nights my end was near.
Determined mind I was found awake~


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Sara Teasdale

She comes back to earth
On some fragrant nights
When moonlight burns
While everyone is blinded by stars
She whisperes to lovers
Not to shut their hearts
Because love will cry
And the wounds in their brests 
Will never heal
She was till her death
Only a sigh, heavy with songs,
But then she joined her dearest one
And now, they sometimes fly together
On some fragrant nights
When moonlight burns
While everyone is blinded by stars


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John Berryman

Drunk and exhausted, he waved to the onlookers,
And threw himself from the bridge, tired of living through
The suicides of poets and writers,
Tired of cheating women, of religion,
Of marriage, of talking to himself –
Weirdly on wings, and with maximum pain,
He waved to the onlookers,
Leaving his poems to terrify and comfort
While the critics said:
’’They are so tearfull! So funny.
 His poetry is the mixture
Of  crankiness, brilliance, and cruelty.’’
Weirdly on wings and with maximum pain,
He waved to the onlookers,
And joined his father
And maybe, just maybe
He forgave him.


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Widow's First Christmas

Turkey's done
dressin'  turned out  fine
gotta stop thinkin'
gonna loose my mind.

     Presents neath the tree
     that boy is one big smile.
     Ain't gonna start cryin
     hold on for awhile.

          God I miss you honey
          each and every day.
          Christimas time don't make no sense
          since you gone to stay.

               Sure miss you carvin'    
               that laughter filled with glee.
               Can't get no Christmas spirit
               when you ain't with me.

May the Lord bless you
keep you safe and sound
We just havin' Christmas
done here on the ground.
   
     Happy Birthday Jesus
     take care o' my ol' man
     and we'll be doin'  your party
     just the best we can.

          Merry Christmas darlin'
          where ever you may be ....
           "Whatcha got there boy?
            A present for me ......  "


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Red Eyes and Sinister Looks

Chains, hay forks, knives, and a hollow whisper,
become more true and sinister.
Halt in the middle of the moon light, 
and a waver image soon is no delight.
Voices run a muck in the head, 
so not calming you wish you were dead.
Gushing blood through the eye
not an image that you would rely.
Nails stuck on your neck with such pain
so your paralyze just little life sustain.
Hoodlums terrorizing people running a muck
did not really know they are in luck.
More dangerous beings are out their
to commit such act and with sinister stare.
Laughing with haunting echo's through
is an aspect of fear can imbue.
The wind changes direction to smother
the echoing sound of laughter.
The panicking state that you are in
soon drives a knife within.
Blood rushing out of your vain
a crucial part of your life dropping like rain.
Running without a destination
you will never reach anyone of your relation.
Sliding your body on a wall
keeping your fall in a stall.
Red eyes you can see it at night
is soon devouring you with little bite.
Changing your belief with tonics of relief
and it is to late to turn a new leaf.
Ears start to deceive the animals sound
eating limbs are chewing around.
Slowly your red eyes steadily getting heavy
is starting to take your life with a levy.
Dropping down with no attitude
and your life force slowly loses altitude.
Breathing comes not so easy
smelling flesh seems so beastly.
The change comes a desire
with frightening red eyes of fire.
Comes more lethal than the hoodlums 
your heart beating like drums.
Your hand becomes all fury
claws come out and your howl with furry.
Trance your in with no one to blame
a rage thats hundreds of centuries of flame.
Rising from a slumber of long lust
a animal instinct that you can trust.
Tearing things apart with no meaning
is a trait that is so deceiving.
Red eyes at night you see in a window
like a poisonous black widow.
Keeps you in attack mode of insanity
that takes all your vanity.
Ferocious emotions eating away
the soul that you had once betray.
The echoing sounds of loud thunder
breaks away the armor with sunder.
You fall once again to torturous agony
the feeling of one self is so lonely.
Shaking in the corner you are found
with blood soaked skin you drowned.
The night becomes day cruel in some way
your memories go in disarray.
The hunters with torches and sinister look
had parted way their hands shook.


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The Last March of the Piss Ants

Walking through the guarded gate and onto my children’s school grounds, the impact of the 
80mm and 120mm mortars crashing to earth caused me to pause. When you couple this with 
the repetitive thrumming of the 50 caliber machine gun and the acoustics on the hill top, you 
feel as if you’re in a combat zone. The deep reverberating pulses that the blast of the 
weaponry left in my chest, the slight ringing in my ears, the un-worldly feeling that 
something was going to land near me, gave me that very realistic feeling. 

Yet the children ran to and fro, laughing, playing; seeming oblivious to the horror that those 
sounds bring to our enemies. I am not sure if they even hear them, even think of them; are 
even aware of the violence of the world around them. To them and the other family 
members of this military community, they hear the sound of freedom. They hear the impact 
of dominance in a world where, (to them) they believe our nation cannot, will not experience 
defeat. Each and every impact is knowledge that their loved ones, (their Soldiers) the 
fathers, mothers, sisters and brothers will live in absolution of the sin that they have or will in 
the future commit in their country’s name. 

Thus leaving the arguable question out on the table, is it a sin? Will they go to hell? It is the 
disobedience of one of the commandments! Yet without hesitation we will pull the trigger and 
thank god that we live to see our loved ones again.

To that man or woman who walks onto their children’s school ground, unguarded. To the 
children who do not run to and fro, frolicking, laughing, and playing; to all who hear the 
impact of a mortar or the repetitive thrumming of the 50 cal. Where the acoustics are 
resounding off the cement buildings of your home and the laughter turns to horror, the 
screams turn to nightmare; where going to school is a threat to life. 

I am sorry, so sorry that the world sees even one human, one child, lover, mother, father, 
sister, or brother; I am sorry they see us as so insignificant as to place you/us in harm’s 
way. I apologize that they/we lift foot to step upon the masses. 

Be it a terrorist, a misguided bomb, or the rage of a stressed out soldier who takes innocent 
life because they believe it is right. We are all significant, we are relevant and to all… Should 
peace ever come at last…?

I pray it lasts until our very last march…


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Permission to stand idly by, sir?!

Please don’t give me your pity
Because I don’t need it
Don’t show me how you’re saddened by me
My own is enough for two lifetimes
As for guidance, only when called upon
Although I must admit
That a handful of acceptance would be nice
You don’t require my permission
To be able to say how you feel
So remember this one thing
I never asked to be who I am
Or even to feel what I feel
For that matter, neither did you
You can’t possibly imagine what it’s like
To fight for something that was handed to you
But I have to earn
You might think you’re in the minority
But you’re oh so wrong
The ones ridiculed for being different
Fearing to air bottled sentiments
Living, but not owning thoughts of it
Not looking to convert or be converted
They’re on the road less traveled
I urge you to let them be
Just as they do you
By doing so, you’ll set them free


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Purgatory

Sitting in a room
Filled with darkness and gloom
Only I wish
To leave here soon

Yet locked are the doors
The sound touches the ear
A sound of devilish laughter, and terrifying roars
Is all i can hear
Where am I?
Where have I gone?

Is this place where
I truly belong?

Not sure of the path
My soul has chosen
Hazy and unclear
My thoughts seem frozen

Everything seems
Like one large test
Despratly i need
A good nights rest

Yet the sound of evil
Is knocking on the door
Can they do anything
Possibly more?

I'm at a crossroad
with two seperate paths 
Yet which shall bring
a reason to live once at last
Judged by everyone
Criticized by all

Still i am standing

Still walking tall


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DANGER IN PUBLIC PLACES

Have you had or seen teenagers,
who abused drugs like marijuana
and became truant and unruly?
That same teens could be 
exposed to temptation again,
if they worked in a hospital,
where the supply of medical
marijuana is kept in glass cabinets.
And we think that modern vampires
are fiction as Drucula's legend seems;
there are indeed doctors and nurses
who will steal blood to satisfy their urge,
and if I have revealed this...
do you think that I am crazy?
If the FDA approved it,
what would the consquences be?
It will certainly diminish the acute pain in patients,
or make everyone around them get high?
Our streets are swarmed with pot heads,
who are hit daily by cars, because of unclear thinking;
and those who drive cause many fatal accidents...
others die of an overdose in filthy corners,
their lifeless bodies are spotted in small towns and big cities.
Is it a good idea to make it legal,
or will it endanger everyone in public places?




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I'm Sorry I Can't Be Perfect

I try not to think about the pain inside
That is the one thing that I always try to hide
It's just to late and we can't turn back
There is one thing, the only thing that I lack
I try so hard to make it but I just can't take
We've lost it all and nothing lasts forever
I feel like you haven't noticed my love ever
I'm never going to be good enough for you
I just wish that our world was made for two
You just don't understand how hard I try
To make your heart love me inside
It hurts me when you can't even see it
I hope that you can at least feel it
I can't stand another fight
My soul is lost every night
I just want you to feel
That my love for you is real
I hope that someday you will see
That you are in love with me...


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Stymied by moral transgressions

While the church of today continues to wrestle with prominent issues,
like those of leadership, moral credibility, or fidelity of her members;
society remains critical to address certain weakpoints already at hand,
those seeming endless lawsuits against the clergy and religious members.

Moments in time unfold the wreckage of moral credibility, trust, and confidence;
it’s like a downfall of the human castle formed with the sanctity of wisdom –
continuity in liturgical sacraments, prayer, and reliance on biblical life;
with faith that God is involved in many events both ecclesial and personal.

It’s on a soaring journey where the Jewish concept of bitachon   is needed,
to move on amid the struggles and other evolving deal of human problems;
so inextricable that make one stronger to cope with what life really means,
in this generation where a culture of arguments abounds in moral situations.

It’s sad to think of what’s going on; it’s painful to experience those afflictions,
the church grieves and suffers with all her leaders’ and members’ transgressions;
with the abuse of power, freedom, and prestige of being one of Christ’ ministers,
heaven weeps as evil triumphs to lead those priests into the world of failures.

The turbulent waves of scandals that have wounded the sacred priestly life,
people’s trust and faithfulness to the sacraments of life – a great turmoil!
the whole Catholicism has been shaken and struggled to redeeem her reputation;
her running sore of afflictions – so widespread that only time can heal the wounds.

With the words of Jesus at his farewell discourse in Johannine literature,
“I will not leave you orphans; I will come to you.”   It’s reassuring so far;
the Spirit of truth  is Christ himself who’ll walk with his own people of all races,
his covenant with them, promise to his disciples, and assurance to all who believe in him.

The church echoes hope and perseverance in the throes of sufferings and tribulations,
She calls everyone to look for the true light – Christ, in hiddenness and humility;
His epiphany  in a continuing journey of faith, in the gospel cries, in various events,
Christ shines in one’s heart, along with the Father and the Holy Spirit – the Paraclete.


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The Sea Blue Eyes I

Once in a while I meet a person whose eyes tell their story
The story is like the sky reflection on the seas of glory
The eyes are all the wonder of the world
It sees the future, past, and present
The eyes give us knowledge of the world and reflection
The reflection of sadness and weakness of each creature
The wonder of each individual being has a present
To the world who has lots of false images
To arise the moment of that one glance
To follow the heart in romance
Just the reflection that gather in your eyes of blue
What a man and a woman should view
Life is such a pain without stopping to see each eyes
Its like roses you have to enjoy each passion in side
When that moment collides with mind and heart
Nothing in your soul can keep your love apart
Join in the fun look in every eyes of a person beside
With passion and romance I bet you, you would cry
The luster of all the things to come
A bounty of life long needs to be given by just the wonders of the eyes
The blue seas reflects the different depths of our feelings
And it should become revealing
Come to your senses with ravaging hormones of lust
The sea can take you and even the reflection in the eyes of the person
The beauty is not held by one it is held by everyone
Such looks with fear for no relief
Is almost a dreadful part in our human nature
Beware of what can happen when emotions are held
Held to the core of an individual
No such thing is kindness when you find yourself in the Sea Blue Eyes
Calling in your soul by just looking
With ignorance you play around with such futile emotion
Gush away the fear and do not go insane with life so dear
The grasp of the titans comes to reveal
The evil within your heart is so obscenely noticed
You want the sea and you want those eyes to look at you with wishes
The rage in the heart are waves that cannot stop 
It pushes and pushes with no regret
The heart falters and there is only one thing in your mind
The idea of one soul to be with is the ocean 
The rifts that is trying to break to end the wants of desire
Cannot be trusted in a human lier
The beauty of man is destruction 
The beauty of women are commands
The eyes of each does not matter in the sea
Because all emotion and desire is given to those who are true
Command of a person is just one thing 
The desire to destroy is another
The Sea Blue Eyes will see no bother cause it bares it all
Even the utmost desire
To be continue.


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Night of the Ghost Knight...

Tender Rose! watch tonight
I reach thee there, in a wondrous flight
Sighs, storms not any more
as wanton winds soften the roar.
Tearing apart the paths I 'll be
trotting triumph through the untamed sea
hold unto thy dreams for a while
as riding I come charging the vile.
Queen of hearts, my charming bride!
shining I near over the tide
Danger, Death my old delight
truest promise tonight, must see the light.
Dogs, savages of the dark
Come an' they shall be ripped apart
Guides me truly...heavenly a spark
never let Fear rule thy heart.
The moment I kiss this castle enchanted
my silver armor in crimson painted
four or forty heads...I need not know
though fiery monsters shall be lying low
Moonlit sword shall drink the sun
the fire of my breast shall make them burn
Fear not faerie queen then, my faerie dove!
witnesses every move...the angel of love.
Softly like rain...fall into my arms
O' Heavens! Thy countless ethereal charms!
I shall fly thee...through kind the flashes of the moonbeams
away from tempests...to mid summer's night's dreams.!
Unpin the braid...we'll sail in the wind
hoofs won't touch the hard roads blind
into the sea of love...where no chains can bind
as mortal fear, mundane terrains...we leave behind...


Note-As the sailors enter the Thorde sea...they can hear a faint voice singing. As they 
move further deep into the waters...the wind all of a sudden hums low an' the voice grows 
distinct. A clear ringing voice...pain or ecstasy, they cannot make out. It sings of a deathly 
night...of a Knight an' his beloved...the rescue an' an almost successful escape. That 
night..as the two approach the sea...the knight finds his ship...set ablaze by some 
treacherous spirit...gone unbeaten. At this moment of great fix...ten arrows strike the knight 
from the back...poison tipped. The beloved princess is speechless in ecstasy...an' she 
knows nothing of this immediate dreadful strike. As a knight ...never falls or fails...he looks 
above, at the gleaming heaven in earnest pray...an' with his beloved holding him close; he 
storms into the sea with the horse. The waves this moonlit night...remind you the tale once 
more....as in above...


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A Fantasy of Relief

Pointed subtle agony 
Wraps cold fingers around my heart
Separation of what I am.... 

Free falling lazily like dead leaves 
into what I am not...
Scarlet Rage finger paints 
Black arcs across my world

Red is hypnotic, like flowing blood 
loosed by one small flick of a blade...

Heaviness seeps in, 
as though already dead and buried
A Fantasy of relief.


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Battered baby

Supposed to be one 'good morning' Not so nice anymore. The daily newspaper and my cup of hot ginger tea, On a picturesque winter morning: Turned all so gross and gory. The picture of a two year old infant girl, That disowned little Baby "Falak" Lying comatose in a hospital In the very own capital of our nation. Poor thing, all piped up and bandaged A fractured skull, bite marks all over her tiny body! Walking the tightrope between life and death, Battles the meningitis that crept stealthily in her brain. Abandoned or abducted: no one knows Hurt accidentally or mercilessly beaten:To be investigated... Baby, I caress your picture every time I see it, Heart bleeds at your fate and suffering, Mourn and weep at the slow death Humanity is dying.


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A Shot In The Dark { Narrative}

helplessly he stumbled 
through the door
holding his bloody chest 
Mother gazed into 
her fourteen year old eyes 
and just knew that he was up 
to his old antics of gang banging 
Yelling and cursing did nothing 
to wake this kid up 
Mother's tears flooded 
like an open gate 
she wondered 
where she went wrong 
raising him 
for he had the best 
of everything 
a home a job an education 
anything he wanted 
or needed 
was right at his fingertips 
maybe having only one parent 
in the household 
or just not enough discipline 
now she stands helplessly 
over her young sons 
lifeless body 
lying on the kitchen floor
in a pool of blood 
all that she could do now
was to pick up the phone 
and call the police 
and the morgue 



Tribute To Children


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A part of me

A part of me is dying
There is no point left in crying

Everything is wrong,
and my heart has been bonged.
Im left confused
not knowing what to do.

The world has lost its mind
And now a part of me 
dies cause you never noticed
me crying while i lie dying.


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Charlotte Mew

In her sheltered stone bed,
Peaceful at last,
Safe from the beat
Of forbidden loves,
She took her truth with her,
Joined her brothers and sisters
And let them cure
Her tortured, sad soul-
But her poems!
They are the other world!
The world  where longing
And love lie together
The world where bitterness
Becomes sweetness-
So rememeber her!
Remember her and smile!


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Randall Jarell

His world ended there, by the road
While walking, he was struck by a car
After everything this, and this was the end
«Sleep, gentle man», the cats purred
«Sleep, good master», the dogs barked
«Sleep, you are one of us», the children shouted
«Sleep, you celestial navigator», the pilots said
Crowded out of the ignorant darkness
He opened the door silently, very silently
The door of great poets


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Domestics - blue berry pancake

Simmering,hot, pancakes, flushed.
Battered, beating, bruised,
Syrup, sweet, melted, dripping, 

Brown now, peeling, ripping 
Dark berries, smashed oozing bluish - black red,
Hands and words tossed instead,

Pancake Burnt! Pancake dead!


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All of Me

All of me…wisps of smoke and fog
Can’t be contained or held for long
Choking and cloying…a bad place to hide
Mysterious to everyone, including myself
Without substance yet so heavy
Destined to blow away.


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The assasination of Margaret May

The wind was blowing,
as the car was going,
across the hills ; across the vales
the night seemed young , as each nightbird sung 
to the moon there long and timeless tales.
Then, at midnight hour
the chauffeur rested, his iron fists upon  the wheel.
There it was,
The mansion of Margaret May, 
whose life tonight I shall verily seal.
I approached the moors like a silent hound
I scaled the walls then climbed the mounds
And though the night was dark and still
I still saw the great house upon the grey hill.
I scanned each wing like a wolf would see,
a sheep as it feeds with humility,
and yet it was no prey, that I was to kill,
for the hounds, they now bayed upon each hill.
The moon gleamed its mischief upon the terrace;
And it shined, like an unearthly thing,
it gleamed its sorrow upon my face,
and wailed its scorn, against the human beings.
I entered the house 
the doors were not locked,
so I opened them slowly and its  walls they did talk.
They spoke of devils and demons and familiar kind;
But I did not see them for my soul was blind.
I took out the weapon and its barrel shined,
by the light of the moon thay was now declined.
And having climbed up the ladder,  to the rooms upstairs,
I found  May just finishing her prayers.
She turned around and I gazed at her eyes;
How could such beauty be 'bought' to demise?
I dropped the weapon,
no bullet could shred;
The flesh of the mortal,
that before me was spread.
And yet she would die for the world could not accept,
what in this masion was hidden and kept.
She was not lustful but lust itself 
and yet I could not stop myself.
For I had no soul,
I had no sin,
I went for her throat, and held tight her chin.
She did not struggle;
She did not plead.
Rather she smiled, till I had finished the deed.
And left her silent;
And still upon her bed,
and there she lies smiling,
but her heart is cold and dead


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What makes real men

I’ve seen so much
In the few years I’ve been here
Some things witnessed
Are my deepest fears

Not too long ago
On July 26th of 2004
Two great friends
That I greatly adore

The first on this day
Was my dear ol’ grand dad
The other was a kid
And this kid had

A bright promising future
Just out of high school
And he always seemed
Oh so cool

Thing happen
Unpredictable and unjust
Yet push on
Everyone must

What is done is done
The past we cannot change
And at time this causes our lives
To be rearranged

Honor their memory with laughter
Do not dwell on the grief
Just move on
You must believe

I have lost men
Whose shoes I could only hope to fill
Some had passed
Because they were incurably ill

Some have died
Before their time
Passing in the very beginning
Of their promising prime

What makes a real man
Is not how he starts things
It is the kind of finish
He shall bring


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Come Autumn

"Come Autumn, come Autumn,
Paint the world!
Trees, give me gold,
And riches unfurled!",

The poor man sang,
in a pile of leaves
under the Autumn trees,

The branches digest,
And the gold fell down
Upon the man's happiness,
And all around

And for once,
The man in rags
showered with gold,
was rich.


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Love

It is there your love is like a star in the sky.
It lights my inner most darkness.
There your beauty is, cutting tears in my heart.
There you find love full of pride, happiness and feelings like any you could compare.
It is also of sorrow, hurt, anger and despair.
It is there I love with reason because of my life I hunt.
There I am always on prowl for the right one to give my heart.
To share my soul but to end my tiredness.
There I love just to feel all of this.
It is not my fault to whom I love, just to who I love.
But there God has given me the grace to knowing such one.
It is because of the kindness one might share, even if they are heartless inside.
It is still with feelings to which I love.
But with great honor to which I love thee.
It is of the loneliness I feel when I feel love.
It is there the emptiness is when there’s no one to share it with.
But it is the tear that wastes when there’s no one to care.
No one to catch the fall or wipe it before it runs down the cheek.
It is there I cry because you are not near.
Because of the hurt I feel but you are not here to kiss the pain away and say, it will be ok.
But there, love is all of me and my being.
Because it was of love to which God formed that of me and you.
But it was with thought, that he made that of you for me.
So I am not lonely but complete in my life.
That of the woman I love and none other will exist.
That there, I wish you were in my bed instead of the space I feel.
Because there, I will know I am fulfilled as I have got you to share my life with.
To wrap my arms around and whisper softly in your ear.
I Love You would be the right words you would hear.
But there, you know love is because it’s me you sharing it with.
A man with dreams but goals.
But a man who knows the true meaning of love because I feel its pain everyday.
That I would be happy to love for the right reason.
So all the hurt would go away.
But to love you would be my dreams but more then that, it would be my fantasy come true.
With lots of love from the one who cares.
With gentle kisses from my lips to yours.
I give you my heart, please be careful not to drop.
Cause it is already shattered from life as well as not having you to love.


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Marina Tsvetaeva

And in her death
She was a poet
Images of her past
Skipped through her mind
Her dead child, her friends, her lovers
Paris, Russia, famine
But images of eternity
Led her to eternity


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Looking Back

Every time I look back
I can remember the good
Maybe I will never get the chance
I still think of the dance
I am glad I didn't know
The way that this would end
Or the path on which it would go
But whenever I think of it
I will always get that grinn
Even if it is a sin
No matter the past
The future will win...


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P E C FRONTLINE

         
      Growing up on a small council estate
         pretty close knit and plenty of mates
            we had our own little squad
              the park end crew, were like a pod
            
                 We went through a stage of oppertunist thieves
                    but what was to follow nobody believes
                      just of what was about to come in store
                         organised violence football hard core

                             The length and bredth of England,our firm travelled
                               coming up against the best and coming unravelled
                                 an incident occurred that would change my life
                                   the judge said to me, you did use a knife.

                                         12 lads went to jail for 39 years
                                            some hard faced and some with tears
                                               16 years old,5 years on my head
                                                 going to jail to lay on my bed.....


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Beauty and the Unpublished Author


Far away in a little town tucked in the corner of a map
Lives the girl who ruined his heart
And broke his life

While with him she would smile and laugh so sweet
Tender as only she could be
In his heart she lit even the corners so deep

With time she became his definition of life
In all he did he had her in mind
Life wasn’t life without him seeing her smile

As moments grew into weeks
The flower of his heart started to reveal its wilt
In her eyes no longer was the sparkle he was used to seeing

Winds carried awful odour of their disorder
Tales went round of her illicit exploits behind the counter
The man with the shop at the corner savoured all the honey she offered

At first he dismissed the whispers with laughter
But soon he discovered he was the only one on the other side of reality’s border
Yes indeed, another prince had taken over

Trouble was how sincerely he loved her
Problem was that even she had only love to offer
Issue was he hadn’t yet sold a dime of the books he authored


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What's Love Got To Do With It?

When she is pregnant, the father long gone, the street her home, she knows she cannot 
afford, or provide for you, yet, will not allow you to be forcefully taken from her womb.

When you are born, she leaves you on a door stoop instead of in a garbage dump.

Where after years of hardship and pain, she finds you once again, you reject her, then 
chastise her sin, send her away, do not let her defend against the hell she lives in.

When you marry in front of all your family and friends, the only one absent, your mother, 
you give nary a thought whether she is alive or dead.

When the day comes your children wonder why you never talk about your mother, they 
question what she did, to make you despise her, like no other.

When you realize there was no shame, she gave life over death, she gave you a chance you 
would never have, a home with a bed, instead of a crate over a grate.

When finally you search, years go by, until one day you discover her upon her death bed, 
your head awash with memories missed, those, you will never have, you look upon a face, 
you once looked upon with hate, tears held in check all these years, flow freely, 
overwhelmed with emotion, barely able to speak, she takes your hand, smiles, then closes 
her eyes.

The last she sees, her son at her bedside telling her he loves her, he wants more time, she 
dies peacefully, happier in this moment than any other time.

What's Love Got To Do With It?
Everything!


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Sight Pt2

Sight Pt2

Of this gift I do now tell 
but not of duress or strife
Ebony did show the world
and brought it to the light.   

As Ebony lay there dying 
uttering words of writ
I see the knife that caused such strife
red smeared on all of it.
   
Words cannot entail
all that did go on
"I bleed so that you may see"
uttered softly as a song

Colour took purchase on the world
however all I could endure
was to take one last look into those eyes
until they shut once more.
  
The sight of Ebonys' blood
had brought our oppressor to his knees
"O' why could I not see past my vaunted views
please save Ebony!"
 
His request I could not appease 
for Ebony had meet a final hour
I turn and shake my head
The man did cry and shout and cower

I then turn to the man
colour bursting in my stare  
I saw the man for what he was
A father stripped most bare.

I cannot judge this man for he has lost his progeny
nor could I condemn for a hand this tragedy
I looked upon this man sullen with his ilk
and resolved to tell that there is still help.

I shared with him my gift
of which I hold most dear
To a hollow and a broken man
filled with hate and fear.


He resisted at first
like men are taught to do
but soon his gaze widened 
with reds and greens and blues.

"O' I have been so wrong' he bellows
fixing me with his stare
his gaze pieced my eyes 
filled with both hope and despair.

He had been so wrong
but it's what he was taught to do
a sullen man repents his crimes
he has nothing left to lose.

I sit here now on the grave of hope
spilling soul to pen
recounting the damage caused
by the vaunted views of men
 
I see now in colour, not grey or blacks or white.
It only took real love to truly show me sight
but now life is quite sad, but that I can endure.
for I will carry my gift, from now to evermore. 


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Forgotten Fate

Introduction: For those who’re wandering confused within the lost and found - seeking silence…


Truth be never futile Stay and see awhile, Call back your forgotten dreams And feel that frozen smile, Linger of Love be worth eternal wait; When the time is right – That verity we do still hate And later we wind up too late, There forth we get lost in fate We get bemused with our innate That we can’t still relate, Don’t take on yourself as bate As never you trust an inmate, Our hopes and thoughts they fade away And we just see closed gates, So slay the lies, dig up the truth Someday you shall find, your forgotten fate…


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Mother to Son

You live in another world
spiritual realm your heaven
a powerful entity in itself.

The watching of your loved ones
from the angels sky
sprinkling your wishes
of joy to them all.

Never missing anything
from the highest plane
where you can move on
to another journey.

The past, present and future
are all multi-dimensional
in the hall of records
where past judgments lie.

Spread your angel wings
fly down to me upon the earth
so I can feel you once more.


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take me from this misery

* this poem has been inspired by Breaking Benjamin's Dear Agony....*
* and was written in memory of my grandmother Jeanne Gula *

My name is Jeanne Gula, today i found out that i have cancer.
Its in a tumor, that's very painful, its very rare, its 3 cancers into 1
they already took it out once... and it came back.
The doctor said it was to late to take it out again.
Its not the perfect end to my life, but its all i can have..
I don't really know how much more time i have.
I used to be able to walk by myself, with out help.
I can't believe this happened to me... of all people.
It's be coming torture, they called in hospices.
This cant be good...
I'm in my own home, slowly dieing...
I really don't want to leave, I will leave so many loved ones behind..
So I think i will stay a little longer...
Its January, i now can't do anything by myself, i have to rely on family to help with
everything, my organs are starting to slowly shut down, its very painful to go through.
but my daughters birthday is coming soon... I'm not going to leave now... i don't want her
to be sad, on such a happy day.
I can't hold on much longer.
I'm now out of this misery, its feb. 2nd, and I'm finally free.
Free, of all this pain, and I'm healthy again, I can walk, with out hanging on to anything
or anyone, I can finally be independent again...
now no one cry for me, because i lived a full long life, and no longer in pain..
I love you all.
Love Grammy


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Fairy Tale - Part 3b

The blizzard had past and with it the wind. 
In the sunshine she surveyed the rubble. 
She thought she should smile 
But snow made her shiver 
And the dream felt like something she couldn’t not feel 
And the mailman and mama and girls in white dresses were too far away 
For her face to cause them discomfort disguised as disapproval.

So she didn’t smile 
And instead became aware 
That the snow lingering on her nose and eyelashes 
Was melting in streams down her cheeks.

If only, if only 
The voice still it beckoned

About to rise to continue her quest 
She heard a distant melody approaching 
Reedy, alto and minor 
Played by a stranger in a woolen poncho and leather boots 
Flanked by a hound in a jewel studded collar. 
As he neared, he slid the music maker into its holder on his belt, 
Commanded the hound be still, 
And proceeded to silently clean up the rubble 
As she sat watching with streams on her cheeks.

She heard the entreating ‘if only’ still calling 
But after some moments of watching him work 
In graceful, efficiency, completely soundless 
She no longer heeded the call 
And though it continued 
After a while 
She didn’t hear it at all.

He finished his work 
And drew from his pocket a perfectly soft bandana. 
With a tear in his eye 
And the gentlest of smiles 
Wiped the snow from her lashes. 
And gave her a rose. 
‘Here, love’

Looking down at the petals she saw a drop 
And in it her perfect reflection. 
With tears still streaming she felt like smiling. 
‘Thank you, love’ she said 
In her own voice 
The voice of her dream.


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The Sea Blue Eyes II

There she is the false image standing quietly
She is just standing looking at a beautiful flower
She notices her passion of earthy desire
Something is happening she burst into the sun
I look up as her hands grasp my face
Her sea blue eyes gazed at me
Her warm hand and then a bright light blinded me
I went down on my knees and cried
The salty water dropped on to the ground 
I live by the ocean so deep
I do not know how to swim
By the thought of a beautiful look 
That made me shake
With fear in my head I saw those Sea Blue Eyes
I cannot restrain myself she burst into the sun
What is going on is it just the feeling of being left behind
She was a desire and now I have none
Driving nuts and insane what will I do
Believing such a image is a dream
I walk on the sand by the ocean with flowers in my hand
Raising it to the sky and trying my best to lure her
The image came close 
It pulled me into the ocean I was soaked
What a lonely human being I am
I grope the sky with such desire
I look pitiful and look anguished
What horrible feeling I have to pull the beauty that is nature down
The wind blew one day the image once more appeared
A young woman standing beside a flower with deep Sea Blue Eyes
Looked at me a glance of hope and happiness came
I reached for her and all of a sudden I fell into a deep sleep
Months past they had told me that I jump off a cliff 
They explained that the flower patch was by it
I realize heaven and earth cannot be reached with out a sacrifice
With meaningless thoughts I would wonder of to the cliff area
To see the ocean were it meets and ends
I was told a story long ago that the feelings of the ocean can seep into your soul
The trend of this story came shortly after some deaths
I was fooled the lady with the Sea Blue Eyes can manipulate anyone
Ladies and men, she is an illusion of the utmost desire
Blaming everyone human kind knowing they are lyres
The ghostly images that creeps everyone is oneself
Desire falls upon those who are lonely 
Believe of the unnatural becomes science
The Sea Blue Eyes is no lie cause they have been taking souls
Through century they have been taking souls for tolls
I stood once again near the ocean reaching to the sky
Lonely I was ready to disappear 
One day she not the lady of the sea it was the one I knew
I was blessed that day she embrace me 
I then fell into a slumber of bliss and desire
Now I just hear voices and I am paralyze down
A disappointment I was fooled once more by the Sea Blue Eyes 

To be continue.


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Death and beyond

Hours transpired like every other day. Perched on the trees, sparrows chirped, keeping the dreadful silence at bay, and sunlight across the land, whipped. Laid there on the grassy lawn, was a lovely lass dressed in a corset. Smelling the blossoms like a fawn, enchanted was she by nature's best. Up the hill ran a hysterical lad, his face as white as a sheet, shattered her heart to more than just a shard, and made her swoon to her feet. Minutes rolled to hours, and hours to days, and there she sat like a stone. With her eyes so lifeless and cold, her once rosy lips now as dry as a bone. Draining her blood was her soul, turning her visage as of a ghoul. Neither did she eat, nor drink, as she stooped over life's brink. Deep down was an endless bottom, which her rotting psyche couldn't fathom. The day came when her eyes lit up, like a hopeless spark in a dark cavern. She let go and set her eyes on the stars afar, and said "I'll be there wherever you are".


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It all adds up

One falsely accusing grandmother,
One misunderstanding brother.
One tear upon the cheek,
One heart that is very weak.
One life that was sad from the start,
One pair of lovers torn apart.
One very chastising world,
And one very sad, lonely girl.


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POW - MIA

POW – MIA


Grandma, when Grandpa went to Vietnam
And left you at home alone
Did you ever think he wouldn't return
And be forever gone

No, dear I thought he'd be back
And never leave again
But that crazy war in Vietnam
Was one we couldn't win

Well, Grandma, where is he now
Is he still fighting the war
Will he ever come home to be with us
Why did he go so far

My child your Grandpa had to go 
And fight for freedom's sake
But he won't be coming home again
And that's so hard to take

But Grandma, if he's not coming home
Why did he have to stay
I'd like to see Grandpa again
So he and I could play

Well, son I'm sorry to tell you this
There is no other way
Your Grandpa may be a prisoner of war
Or what the Army calls MIA

Well, why is he in prison
Did he commit a crime
I don't understand, Grandma
It's been a long, long time

Yes, dear, you're right, it's been so very long
Since Grandpa went away
But all the love he gave to us
Is with us every day

You're right Grandma
He really did love us all
He had to go to Vietnam
To answer his country's call

My child you are so very wise
And one day you'll understand
Your Grandpa had to go and fight
For the freedom of our land

Grandma, I love you so
And I'll never go away
I won't leave you home alone
Home is where I'll stay

Thank you dear, that's very kind
But Grandma will be alright
I love you too
God is my guiding light

He's my light too, just like Grandpa said
He's always by our side
He helps us every day
And dries the tears we've cried


	Curtis Moorman
	June 17, 2011


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Voices Rose Beyond the Sea

A song she carries in black locks,
Her treasure brings their ship to dock.
Transparent to the deafened mute,
To eloquent a note to loot.
Set to mesmerize the men,
Fixed upon this maiden gem.
So caught up in her melody,
Forgot a cast beyond the sea.

A drink to her!
Another round!
To satisfy,
A lustful hound.
So beautiful,
A girl so fair;
Like mermaids,
In a water’s lair.

Tonight they’ll empty Davy’s fears,
And bask in heaven’s light and tears.
To smell the lavender and blooms,
A rare treasure sure to lift the gloom.
To drink and sing their past regrets,
tomorrow’s day brings toil and sweat.
For death awaits in lines and sails,
Their true mistress - the sea-bound trails.

Another drink!
And fare thee well…
A tale of wonder,
Sure to tell.
About this night,
Her song will swell -
Above the open sky,
And dwell.

They sailed from Nova Scotia‘s Pier.
The jealous ocean soon brought fear,
As waves as tall as mighty oaks;
Did crash into their fishing boats.
The mast did crack and slam her deck,
The men all struggled soaking wet.
Then voices rose “Farewell to thee,
Our maiden…” then sunk into the sea.


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For Mark

His home is always
where he is –

Beneath the trestles
of clattering trains, he huddles
in the damp & sandy wind,
eyes across the ocean,
sandwich crumbled,
filthy in his coat pocket

His home is just
where he is –

Now inside a box behind a dumpster in the middle of downtown nowhere, 
surrounded by the 
bizarre aroma-therapy of steaming, festering garbage 
His home is exactly
where he can
no longer go –

Inside the placid, welcoming walls
of the house
where his sanity lives

~~~

He stumbles, aching,
crying from his
wretchedness,
crying from his soul –

His pants encrusted 
with what he could not leave behind, 

His hands 
clutching a desperately empty bottle, 
His hair in stringy,
unkempt ribbons,
slapping his face in the wind

~~~

He, trapped & terrified
in a life beyond his living,
seeks suicide
by public transportation,
wishing it could all
just be over

Wishing he could somehow
force his feet to take his body
into the path
of the oncoming bus –

But the driver
will not mow him down,
will not have him on her conscience –

She refuses his anguished gift
of responsibility
& slams the bus to a squealing,
furious, bone-shaking stop
& screams at him

"NO!

I will not do it!"

Sad, relieved, horrified, pleased,
he views the scene as
one more evidence
of his beleaguered, hated,
ridiculed immortality


And laughs his drug-indentured way
back to the motel 
which has a dumpster 
behind which he can once more 
box himself in 
until he thinks he can afford to
take the public transportation system on 
again, 

And maybe this time, he’ll 
find his win, 

he’ll 

be successful 

And never have to live 
inside these walls of pain 

(again) 

which he only knows as home 


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GALILEO'S QUEST FOR RECOGNITION

Galileo made his elegant telescope with wood,
to discover Jupiter's moons, which were four in all;
and he saw with amazement what we see today.
Galileo's creativity and intellect changed
the definition of science and expanded its scope;
and his touch of genius intrigued even a curious Pope.
Never before was Man able to gaze at the wonders 
of the unreachable Heavens with the naked eyes...
he allowed us to admire them and praise them eloquently.
And with the superb creation of his Galilean lenses, he shortened
the distance of the galaxies, planets and dippers that had existed
even before civilizations claimed dominion over the earth's rough terrains.
I would have ensued the same cause that motivated young Galileo to choose
a path encroached with many risks and trails, and be the bearer of change;
powerful war machine he invented when the city of Florence was constantly under siege.
He defended the Copernican Theory and was found guilty of heresy,  
and while on trial, his innocence gave him more audacity...
that everything he had created, would have honored him with some recognition.



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THE PLAGUES OF OUR DAY

The blind man waited, 
at the intersection, for someone
to help him cross the busy boulevard...
and he was accustomed to live in twilight,
fumbling for a hand on his right;
and he finally found mine!


Judge humanly...not pettily,
you could be in that situation 
and feel abandoned and helpless,
unless somebody extends compassion
and lends that hand in time of need;
only human love can render a good deed!


The orphan girl recognizes a greed so mundane,
her body has grown, so has her world's view;
that person who abandoned her at the orphanage
when icy rain pelted against the foggy windows,
was her own mother that refused to knock on the front door!
She still feels unwanted, unloved and rejected by who,
for some shameful reason, dropped her off and was gone
into the dreary autumn's night to forget her despair!


Judge the pain...not the circumstance
that impels a misguided heart to err;
beneath an appearance of denial,
there's a certain humanity we can't conceive,
and what prompts us to act in unreasonable and strange ways,
is still not quite understood by all;
all we can perceive is the guilt we can't bear,
and the resentful restlessness which shortens this very existence!


The elderly woman, sitting in an old wheel-chair,
waits at the traffic light as the whisking wind
brushes her frizzy and gray hair;
the sunken-cheeked lady is the regular beggar,
whose life has never been mellow,
but full of tragedy and sorrow!
Her frail voice is not insincere, but thankful and kind... 
when I hand her a dollar out of my car's window!


Judge fairly... that could be you standing there,
or someone you love;  fate can be changed if we dare...
we assert truths without clarity and condemn unjustly!
Let's take the mendicant's place, at the same corner, and beg all day;
wouldn't we be humiliated, be scorned or even be ignored
by the glances of passerby that regard us not as their friend?


The run-away teenager with lots of make-up,
looks like a madam out of a brothel,
who tries to hide her identical age by smiling at strangers...
and her trade is that of an inexperienced gal,
unprotected and exposed to many dangers;
and it might cost her life...that's already a living hell!     


Judge not too harshly...when facts aren't known,
and the only assumption rests with our pity;
along the side of the street there are many eyes that weep,
eager to return home, to a home that was so warm and cozy!
And the lucky ones will make until dawn,
others will not open their eyes, but eternally sleep!



THE PLAGUES OF OUR DAY 


The blind man with a steel cane  stooped and waited
for someone to help him across the busy boulevard;
he felt warm sunlight, and wished his sight back without living in darkness,    
then he saw a glimpse of that light when he was touched by my kindness.   
The orphan girl wants to escape, but she is afraid to venture in the outside world
still feeling unwanted, unloved and shivering unable to shield herself from the cold.   
On many rainy nights, she sits by her barred window recalling her frail mom fleeing 
into the Autumn dreary night, and inside she longs for caresses to begin the  healing.
Another teenager, hustles in the dangerous streets of night...she barely 
can walk on high heels, but she endures pain for gain;
her home was blessed with good parents, but she rebelled and ran away... 
she has no choice but sell her body...what will she attain?  
Lend a hand to anyone in time of need,
only human love renders a good deed;
How can we help abandoned babies and run-away
and get rid of all the plagues of our day that infest society?


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The Bottom Of The Pile

The taxpayer,
is at the bottom of the pile,
or so it seems,
by the upper class style.

What will happen,
when they smother us to death,
then who will they call on,
to cover their debt.

We are not strong enough,
to carry this load,
why shouldn't they carry their own weight,
for the lifestyle they chose.


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The White Rose of Good Bye

Today I lay,
a white rose,
upon your grave,
and tears,
seep onto,
the ground,
that now engulfs,
what was once,
my first love.

I kiss your tombstone,
remembering you,
at first sight,
as my heart,
skipped a beat,
as my eyes,
glance into,
the mystery,
of the pair,
of eyes,
that met mine,
that continues.
to travel,
through the labyrinth,
of my soul.

Splashes of red,
color my face,
as the memory,
of the night,
I felt your hand,
caress my own,
as you stole,
my heart,
with your,
affection,
that captivated,
the girl,
that thought,
no man,
could express,
towards her.

Agony consumes,
my thoughts,
running in circles,
that perplex,
my spirit,
with traces,
of my mind,
focusing on,
the deer in headlights,
that was slaughtered,
by the man,
I believed,
was my soul mate.

I laughed half-heartedly,
to ease remnants,
of pain,
as I viewed,
the bold lettering,
of your name,
etched upon,
this rectangular rock,
within this cemetery.

I placed a note,
beside your grave,
with a vignette,
of my rage,
anguish,
and inevitable love,
for you.

Years of fearing,
of falling into your grasp,
were far worse,
than the night,
you attempted,
to taste upon,
the purities,
of my innocence.

There were months,
when I let,
myself drown,
in self-blame,
making excuses,
for your behavior,
creating a paradox,
of sadistic love,
and intense hatred.

On my wedding night,
I cringed as fragments,
of that early august,
morning encounter,
entered my mind,
and guilt became,
visible inside,
my deep hazel eyes,
as my husband’s gaze,
met mine,
and the night,
that should have,
ended with me,
giving him the gift,
that only he,
would receive,
was decimated,
with sounds,
of your body,
Pushing violently,
into me,
 as silence,
muffled,
the words,
I begged,
to escape,
from my lips.

My feelings,
are now a scar,
no longer,
painful,
only a reminder,
of a hard,
 life  lesson,
learned.

So today I forgive,
you,
with this white rose,
symbolizing,
my pure heart,
that contains no love,
nor hate.

I whispered,
as I walked,
away from,
you,
and prayed,
you,
heard.

These words,
“my Innocence,
my heart,
now belongs to,
my lover,
who deserved,
what you,
believed to,
belong to,
you,
without consent,
and I am letting go,
of every aspect,
that connects,
you to me,
with this good bye.”


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Homeless Woman

There she sits,
Empty cup, head in hands,
She does not have selfish demands,
She wants for nothing rash or bland,
She simply wants a place to live,
Somone to give her the love she's never had,
She knows how it feels to be cold and alone,
She does not know the heat of a warm home,
A loving hand, she'll never touch,
Care is all she asks for,
Is that too much?


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OLD CROAKER spun me his LONG AGO tale

A friend of mine
From
Different time
Showed this youngster
The Spirit of being kind
Gentle Breath
His turn-of-the-century walking cane
Told me of his adventures
as a sprite lad through many pain:

"When the folks could afford
we would travel in my father's Ford
Dusting the roads between here and Maine
Perhaps an overnight stay over the borders of Canada's Plain
Life in the car
Home on the porch
Picnics and A&W root beer
Sun would descend over a quiet family near
But,daily routine was not always swell
Battling Turmoil of our own inner Hell
Brothers would fight and swear
Grandma,shaking and shivering over there
Ma and Pa would mediate yonder far
At early dusk,these would be put back in the Jar"

I listened to his story that he told
Surviving the years,
The Hardship,
and the World's Cold
His voice began to change
A tone of sadness that chokes
Still to entertain children who will sit
Listening to an old man's tale that evokes


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Emo Teenage Soul

So cold
So sad
So broken and alone
Just wondering
Thinking
If I'd ever be in your arms
Still wondering
Thinking
If you are too
Do you miss me as much as i miss you
I think the permanent damage done to my skin
Will convey the thoughtful sin
Depression stuck to me
With super glue
Does anyone know
What I am about to do
No, no one does
I don't think they ever will
What does it matter
I'm just another emo teenage soul


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Gathering Strom

storm clouds gather 
in the gray of your eyes 
clearly I see the rage in you rise 
my heart starts to pound 
at my imminent demise 
knowing what’s coming 
the feeling, it’s numbing 
your hatred is clear 
even through the blur of my tears 
but I’ll weather this storm 
a routine that’s become our norm 
the bruises I’ll hide 
to no one will I confide 
for fear of being alone 
scarier than any violence you’ve shown 
because this too shall pass 
only a few moments will it last 
you’re always sorry, so very sorry 
holding me in your arms crying 
I know that you’re trying 
my tears become yours 
forgiveness your eye implores 
I should not have pushed you so 
knowing where the argument would go 
you tell me you love me 
so gentle you can be 
so tender your touch 
next time I’ll remember 
not to push so much





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The very Aspect of the Solitude

Near the beach, during the dusk 
I was feeling intense in thinking husk 
What went wrong?
Thinking along 
The very aspect of the solitude  
 For the change of her attitude 
That has turned the tide on me 
No matter what has happened to me 
I can cope with all sorts of the situations 
But I regret the break up of the strong relations 
I believe it might be nothing but misunderstanding 
How this happened for the two of us is disappointing 
When we were so close to each other 
So passionate with each other 
Never thought of this day 
As the transfer of my way 
So unfortunate 
But it is too late 
No chance of creating a situation  
To rebuild the relation 
Gradually the sun disappeared  
And from that place I retired 
I reckon the day brings brightness  
And the night brings gloominess 
Yes the course changes now and then 
I need to come out of the sadistic den 


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Anthony

'Twas on a sunny day in May
Along the banks of Fundy Bay
When I met… my dearest Anthony

From a distance…I could see
His rugged frame…and symmetry
And the glint of Irish eyes…of bluish green

With manly strides… he lingered there
Along a path of grasses… where
The sun reflected on… his golden hair

And with a glance… he stole my breath
I could not still… my heaving breast
With every step he took… I nearly died
Overcome with… such profound emotions… that I could not hide
~~~
'Twas in that magic moment… that we fell in love
Blessed by heaven… and the angels up above
And with their keeping…we were married… in the month of June 
Underneath a pale misty silken silver moon
~~
We built a house… upon a hill…that overlooked the harbour
With a winding path… to the door… that walked… between the arbour
And there… among the sea salt roses… and the ocean breeze
We lived and loved and raised our family

The years went quickly sailing by
Sometimes we laughed…sometimes we cried
But through it all…we never left…each others side
For…we had that kind of special love… that never dies

A love…that asks the reason why
I stand upon our path and cry
As I look out to the ocean...where you lie
So overcome… with such profound emotion… wishing I could die


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Too Young

Two young lovers had eloped
Wandering through the grasses together they hoped
That this time will be one lasting love
A beautiful gift from up above

Now the two young lovers got what they hoped for
But never knew that someday hunger will knock at their for
Love can destroy even the divinity
Fate can turn into a one-sided animosity

Both of them were tied in each other’s strings
They were not too curios what their action brings
Too young to realize their real fate
Too fast to be each other’s mate

Desperate to get out of the dark
For they have already made their own mark
The two young lovers decided to finally quit
Before both of them will fall into a worse pit.





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Remember

                          As we embark on the 10 year anniversery of 9/11,
                  I look up in the sky and realize how lucky I am to be alive.
                   So many people lost their loved ones on that tragic day.
        All the brave, couragous, selfeless people that ran in to help total strangers!
         They never for once thought about their life but, only wanted to others survive.
            The day the two towers fell, those suicide bomber's died and went to hell!
               The United States suffered a great loss, so much death was in the air.
        I pray every night for those who lost their life, for their families to keep astride.
          I know what it is like to lose loved ones but, in the mist of all the tragedy, 
                           a phoenix shall rise and the eagel shall fly high!
                        The terrorists thought we would just run and hide.
                             But, what we did was fly OLD GLORY HIGH! 
              We as a nation banded together and helped pray for one another.
                    September 11,2001, we will never foreget all the losses.
               All the people that did not survive, they are watching over us,
                                              dancing high in the skies!


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Never Poem

Never will I forget the hot summer June evening , I waved a last "Goodbye" to my sister Angel. The fact in knowing she'd be shipped out to boot camp the next day.
Never will I forget the next few weeks of complete silenced tears, the yearn to hear her voice hear her joyous laugh or see her bright smile. 
Everything seemed different without her around at home. 
Never will I forget the emotions I felt reading her first letter.
Never will I forget that Sunday morning at church I seen her for the first time, in a month and three days.
Never will I forget my tears of joy streaming down my face; Angel’s arms wrapped securly around me. Never will I forget how she changed and looked in her sharp uniform.  My sister had become one of the "Few the Proud". A dignified Marine.


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Innocent Child

Raping my soul
with your angry thrusts
of domination
ceasing to exist
of your internal penetration
and your violation of my spirit.

Lost and confused
my feelings and emotions 
became immune.

A ruined and battered person
from your violent anger
and negative power.

Keeping me prisoner
in my own cell of fears.

Sleepless nights
nightmares of your face
reliving those moments
over and over again in my head.

You stole my essence.

It was not yours to begin with.

Robbing my innocence with your sick
and twisted ways.

I was just a child who thought it was a game.

Trying to lure me into hidden shadows to do the same.

I ran away but could not forget
or forgive without regret.

Feeling ashamed and blaming myself
for something I did not create.

I was too young to understand
to heal from my ordeal.

Time stood still when I was seven
from my living hell to my beautiful heaven.


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Taken: Part 1

Better to never touch than never be able to let go
Suppose that’s how it works, but how would he know?
He slowly lifts up his head and opens his eyes
To see there’s no life left to live within the scope of this light

Here he can see that everyone’s gone, everyone left
The shadows give his mind room to play
They bring back the ones he needs to feel home
To make the beating in his chest hurt a little less
Complacency brings the warmth back to his hands
Just as they used to be before the cold came to embrace him
Hands that held so much, fought so many battles
Once had a dream, once served a purpose
But now they hang there empty and aching
No strength left to fight, but is just as well
As there are no more battles left to lose
No burdens left to carry, no faces left to leave
His shoulders slump too low to hold up his head any longer
Corrugated roof finally gives underneath the rain
Curses this city and its apathetic elements
Automatons with hearts, but still without feeling
The bastard children of a father that abandoned them to their own demise
He hates them all as they keep walking, uncaring
Either a hamburger or a loaded gun would suffice
Maybe not; he almost enjoys feeling this unique
No one else hurts as much as he does
No one else ever had as much to lose as he did
Break in concentration; a strangely dressed man throws a card towards him
He knows it’s not trash as the man actually looked at him before he threw it
“Chance of a lifetime: One game, two resulting prizes.”
Ten o’clock and he’s waiting for the door to open
Finally, an over-sized man lets him in and shows him where to sit
Grateful to be out of the wet, cold alleyway he forgets about the game
A man with a deck of cards sits down in front of him
Afterward, four other men sit down at the table
Players, he assumes...


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SCARCE HARVEST

War World II was raging over this
southern Italian town* spared by a miracle...
a deluge that suddenly occurred: 
a night of blasting sounds, of rising flames 
as American planes bombarded its buildings;
the Nazis fled to occupied Naples.
In the North, the Fascits were executed,
as the Dictator Mussolini himself was. 


The farms could not be furrowed deep and neat,
fear hung over the farmers' shoulders;
and wheat couldn't grow abundantly to make bread,
and brazen women to a distant granary they went, 
risking their lives to grind the wheat kernels;
they were no young men in town, or the older ones
who had gone to war for a concept so deceptive.
Many youngsters and soldiers were kidnapped by the Nazis, 
to be taken to Germany as prisoners of war...who would have 
challenged the Third Reich, or disobeyed?


Old women with handkerchiefs on their heads, weeping loudly
and mourning the tranquil town it once was...so lovely and happy, 
and their cry was too bitter and inconsolable to be hushed;
now, even bread was taken away from them,
damning the cruel Duce, who had betrayed them for vanity...
why did he bring prosperity to Africa, not to Italy?
Why was his ego so manipulated by Hitler's cleverness...
that he could have conquered peoples and lands?


Ruins and dead kindred...a scenery of dread and abomination,
and the lively memory of begonias on their sunny balconies 
brought a sweet nostalgia in an hour of horror and death;
and gathered among the crumbled walls, their rosaries  
recited with graceful whispers, gave them 
the strength and the courage to desperately grieve:
"Peace, o beloved peace, have you overlooked
the kindness of such humble and honorable spirits?
 

Darkness brought the silence they had sought under the glittering skies,
to hide the ugliness of the war in their gloomy shadows,
never to reveal the devastation of their town;
and with the new sun rising, hope would have been 
renewed in the sunrise's lasting glow.
They would have seen those wheat golden kernels 
bend under their heavy weight and bow.... 
and heard themselves saying," Mercy, o mercy
of our righteous God, let prosperity abound...
as the misty rain slowly comes down!"   

Southern Italian Town:  Baiano

Copyright 2009 by Andrew Crisci


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Adultry

and as it began
so will it end
for we knew
times end.
there will always be He
beyond
the limits of our todays
are the promise of His tomorrow.

and as it began
it will end
for we knew
sorrow in the warmth
of the sun.
His son,
a boy so wise
to know his father
a woman
to know her life.

and as it began
so will it end
in my wait
my solitude.
I am His
he is ours
I the lesser
for he is the Love.
Mine merely a promise
to them
to know our tomorrows
and begin
as it will end
in 
time.


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First Love

A collection of love letters in a heart shaped box
that I kept for many years,
reminding me of the times we met in secret,
and moments we spent in your loving arms
wrapped up like a gift in your embrace.

I have never forgotten your smiling face,
and your romantic charms,
or the butterfly kisses traced on my lips.

We parted in youth going our separate ways,
I thought of you often for many days and lonely nights,
wishing you would of stayed from memory to reality.

All I have left in this red velvet box,
with satin lining ,and emotional thoughts
are those wonderful times  of remembrance.


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The Falling: Part II

Thats all she needs.
She desperatly wants his strong, protective arms to wrap around her and sheild her from this cruel world, this world that has broken her.
She desperatly needs him to whisper to her the words that would set her free.
That everything will be ok, and that he won't ever leave,
Like the many times before, where she would lie in his arms for hours
just listening to him breath in and out. His steady heartbeat playing its beautiful composition in her ear. The most signifigant sound in her world. 
She drops to her knees, pulling her drentched hair from its roots,
Screaming at the heavens.
"WHY?!"
The heavens respond with a loud bellow,
shaking the earth beneath her.
She knows the truth.

Yet she refuses to accept it.

The pouring rain continues to fall.
She continues to break.

He does not exist.
Not anymore.
He never did.

She wanted it too much.
She wanted to feel love.
She wanted to feel human.
She wanted to feel the unconditional need to be with another person,
and have that feeling returned with equal amounts of passion.

Was it too much to ask for?
Is it too much to ask for?

She can not move.
The rain starts to freeze mid air,
violently pelting her exposed body, leaving red marks as proof.
She does not care.
She can not feel.

The heavens cry out to her, begging her to get up, 
To get help.
She refuses.
All she needs is him.
Who ever He is...
Where ever He is...
She will wait.
Wait for all of eternity if need be.
She will wait for the unconditional love.
For that unruly passion that burns in both of their souls.
She waits for the man who was designed to love her,
to need her the same way she needs him.
Forever.
She waits for the man who cannot live without her warmth,
her touch. 

And with that,
She slowly, unwillingly pushes herself off the muddy pavement,
permitting herself one final glance at the angry sky,
catching a glimpse at her diamond among coal
Her only friend in the wake of night.
The moon.
"Save me, my angel...Save me."
she whispers towards the sky, allowing a tiny smile to dance across her pale, desolate face
Before returning back to her throne in her cold, abandon dungon, her in lonly, abandon castle.

Feeling a new emotion she's never felt before.

Hope.

Hope shoots across her sky like a metor.
Shinning so bright, filling her with warmth that blinds her.
The heavens cry out,
Relief.
He will find her one day.
And she will be waiting. 

[.Because Falling in love, Is giving someone the power to break you.]


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She Has A Big Heart

Her heart is so big, her love is so strong
Most of her life, she has been treated wrong
She has so much love, so much to give
Sometimes it took all she had just to live
What in the world did she do to deserve
All the pain that's been forced upon her
She's worked so hard to do everything right
But, when she'd least expect it, there would be another fight
For days she would hurt and walk around crying
If she told anyone, they'd think she was lying
How could this life of hers be so unfair?
Is it too much to ask just for someone to care?
It caused me such heartache to see all of her pain
All the times she was hurt, it was done in vain
Such a wonderful person with all of this love
Deserves more than anyone that I can think of
I'll always be thankful for all that she’s done
I love her unconditionally, unlike anyone
Who is this woman with such a big heart?
She's the beautiful woman who gave me my start
She's very special; she's one of a kind
She's like a rare diamond that most never find
She's my best friend, she's my Mother
I hope she knows how much I love her

Copyright © 2000   Shari E Davis


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3,000 Miles Separate Fate

There you were
Just a blur
In the spur
Of the moment

A spontaneous rush
Of flushed confusion
An overwhelming lasting impression

This brief encounter
Bringing two strangers
A precious and a joyous sensibility
That's all too serene to be fiction

Effervescent euphoria
Permeates its way through the senses
Infiltrating effortlessly

Why did you have to go
And get on that plane

Now you're never coming home


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Situational Awareness Is The Undying Key

Disregard for effect
In the eye of the beholder
We sit in dire need
As the looks grow colder
Abandoned out here
At the horizon’s end 
We sleep all alone
With nothing to defend

The dreams come
But at what cost
When the lack there of
Has found us lost
The heart grows fond
In times of resistance
For reality lost touch
And with it our existence

But is that enough
To stand all alone
For solitude draws deep
Turning expressions to stone
The deals are dealt 
And dreams fell short
Where do I go from here
When every step I distort?


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The Curse of Unlimited Time

“Don’t forget to take your dose.”
My stomach in knots, as I shakily spoke.
“Baby, you know my death is coming close.”
“But mommy, I don’t want you to go.”

Doctors walked past,
Blurs of white stepping in and out fast,
As my mother and I tried to make the night last,
Pulling out memories and revisiting the past.

All of our ‘remember when’s’,
Made me wish I was there again,
Back when I thought there was time to spend,
With my mom, on who I could always depend.

“Why’d this have to happen now?”
My lips trembled as thoughts were spoken aloud.
“How can we change it, baby? Please, tell me how.”
“Cancer can’t take you! It’s not allowed!”

I crawled up beside her,
Beside my hero, my mother,
I heard the slow heart of my source of will-power,
And cursed the sickness that absorbed and devoured.

My mind rushed with things I needed to say,
Secrets that I kept so they’d stay out of the way.
But I was cut short as time ticked away,
And only one memory in my mind began to play.

“Remember when I started to cry,
That one day you never told me goodbye?
I always knew it was a silly reason why,
But you came back anyways and this was your reply.”

“My pretty little princess, I love you!
And I will always know you love me too.
So if I forget to say bye, please don’t be blue,
Because our bond is strong and will always stay true.”

The memory made up for things I couldn’t tell her,
And in this moment it made me feel the slightest bit better.
But yet all these emotions were flooding like water,
As I knew I was going to lose my mommy forever.

“I promise I love you baby, that’s all you need to know,”
And this time it was her voice that shakily spoke.
“I’m not scared of death, I’m just scared of letting you go.”
She winced in pain, death was too close.

“Mommy!” I screamed, scared out of my mind.
She smiled, then it faded as she laid there and died.
It’s indescribable what loss and longing I felt inside,
My mind went numb as I couldn’t bring myself to cry.

I need you,
I want you,
I miss you…

I love you mommy.


Dedicated to all who have lost their moms.
In sickness or old age,
Whatever it may have been,
This is for you.



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The Widow

What leaks out of the window pane,
And flows into the ground,
Is evidence of a widow's pain
That's heard her spouse's sound.

She felt his whisper graze her ear.
She heard his lowly call.
"Be safe, my love, and please take care
Within this gloomy fall.

I love you so, my dismal dear.
Please, create not such debris.
My soul's on the abysmal sphere,
So, please don't cry for me.

Sometimes I wish I hadn't died
And left you all alone,
But I'll see you on the other side,
Where we'll both be at home."

Her buried head, so warm with love,
And resting on the seal
Rose to see a cooing dove
Which made the time surreal.

Her eyes were wet with mournful glee
As she bowed to pray,
"Lord, please help my sorrow flee
And let my heart display

A sense of strength not pumped before
Through this old-aged heart.
And let my husband not ignore
The fact that we're apart.

And as I lay me down to bed,
I make this final plea:
Never let me lose again
Unless the lost is me."


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A Corpse

It was afternoon and month of June 
The Sun shone full in the Asian skies, 
Sending down scorching rays, 
Enough to cause death to those who sleep, 
On the cozy beds made of sponge. 

Beside the public place, upward face, 
I did see a corpse of a child lying 
With belly exposed, legs stretched wide, 
The arms folded on the unbuttoned chest, 
Slight afar from the callous crowd, 
Flies hummed around as if the Death Angel, 
Had done his job early in the morn. 

With chilled blood in the veins, 
And fearful heart in the chest, 
Riveted gaze at the frightening scene, 
Advanced I timidly forcing legs, 
Stood beside examining from top to toe, 
And shook it from the sooty arms, 
To certify belief occupying my mind. 

At the jerk first he sprang up, 
Sat, squatted rubbing the eyes, 
Yawned, snorted breathing aloud, 
To make me believe, he was not dead, 
But it is pity he knew not, 
He was a living corpse.


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In her poetry

In her poetry her heart shall stay
In her poetry her passion will lay
In her words you will find her secret
In those words she will tell you it was worth it
In that feelling you will see her tears
In that feeling you will know her fears
And in that poetry you will discover her hearts desire
The burning fire
The passion that flares
And that girl who cares
You will find her there 
even when she is lost
But to read her wisdom there is a cost....


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Shades of Gray

Shades of gray like smoke
Invade my life
A faith that demands black and white
Tolerates no gray
A child that needs love consistently
Tolerates no depression
A bank account that is fragile
Tolerates no mania
A heart that is broken 
Tolerates no guilt or anxiety
I know black and white, but
Gray is all I can do.


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Blazing Star


Holding his long mane and strong reins

my powerful pure white horse

let me ride bare back

my hair and his mane blowing behind us

we rode like the wind

almost flying

to the store and safely back home

determined to weather all storms~

with his help I was unafraid.

 

This horse was invented by a friend's imagination to get him to work at age 10 
after he got a gun put in his face and there was no one to tell.


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I wanted to say

I wanted to say I meant you no harm.
I did not expect to cause so much alarm.
I did not wish to have ever hurt you.
Still this is all that I seem to do.

I wanted to say or maybe just sigh
I feel a piece inside of me die.
All that I say are merely words.
I wonder if they are truly heard.

I walk away with this lump in my throat.
It wasn’t my intention to rock the boat.
I see so much that I still don’t know.
Tears come to my eyes, I turn to go.

I wish for forgiveness, I hope for some.
The sun will rise and daylight does come.
I turn and start to walk back down my path.
Things don’t add up, I can’t do the math.

I wanted to say that I do really care.
Things have gone now beyond repair.
It makes me sad so I remember a smile.
I just get lost every once in a while.


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-I'm Only Human-

Fell head over heals at 17
He was my first love and first love
He was larger than life, to me
Thought this is the one
What can I say, I'm only human

He asked and I did
He wanted and I gave
I opened and was his
don't remember exactly when time changed
He got upset and I blamed me
He screamed and I showed my fear
I never thought to protect myself, I was his
another day to you, but for me it changed my identity
He threw that first blow, and I fell stunned
He bruised my face, arms and body, and all I could say was "sorry"
I didn't see it coming, I was his
we were supposed to be happy, expecting our first baby
He lied and I cried
He cheated and I just looked the other way
I stayed and put up with the abuse because I was his
our daughter was six months old when time changed, again
He yelled and beat me till I was bloody and blue, and I kept saying in my 
head "Hurry up and get it over with."
He woke-up the baby and I knew, knew what he was about to do
I tried to block that fist, but he connected with her and I was no longer his

I fell out of love at the age of 20
He might of been my first, but he became my last
He was no longer larger than my life
He would never be that one
Had to learn the hard way, I'm only human


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IT'S ALL A MYTH

Hollywood is trying to cash in
on an unrealistic movie about
the Earth's destruction bound
to happen in the next two years...
how could you believe it, fools?
Doesn't God create it to be everlasting?


It's all a myth leading everyone to believe 
that's what exactly will occur almost instantly;
those fiction writers wouldn't care less
where you stand on this ridiculous story...
as long they make a huge profit and laugh
all to way to their bank...don't you agree?


Hollywood used to make great, memorable movies 
to glorify the name of the Almighty, that even now
make a positive and sound impact on all of us;
every possible subject has been exploited
from drug to sex...from politics to bloodshed...
Hollywood has become the haven of ostentatious riches.


I wouldn't waste a buck and stand before
a screen that shamelessly proclaims this lie,
even the most ignorant person wouldn't fall for that!
Don't squander your hard-earned money on stupidity,
and make those greedy movie-makers rich for
a motion picture that promotes chaos and fret!


The Christmas' Season and Hanukkah are almost here and the Devil plots in Hell;
they couldn't have come up with a better idea, or a more inspiring story?
It's criminal and despicable to prey on a gullible audience,
and force them to believe in a fiction that goes beyond any credibility;
it's a time for reflection...to redeem ourselves and get rid of pretense,
refuse to be brainwashed by the entrepreneurs who are awaiting their share! 


Copyright 2009 by Andrew Crisci


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The Wine Glass

Your shape is subtle sensuous curves
offering up blood-red nectar 
sliding silently into the warmth of my mouth

Buttery blossoms of fruit and aged sorrow
Swimming through my veins 
flooding my senses with pulsating warmth

Swirls of soft fingertips over your rim
evoke a haunting note
swollen anxious lips curve over you 
to catch every drop

Do not fear your emptiness for 
I will fill you up once more
and dance again with you till dawn  


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A REVELATORY MESSAGE OF SALVATION

The Good News is for people
who have a sickness and need to be healed,
and healing starts with a reborn spirit,
but spiritual blindness won't make one look upward,
to ask for forgiveness and becoming whole;
the Good News can give you a new heart
with their revelatory message full of promise...
coming upon you form the Divine Source!



Who has the audacity to blame God
for not intervening in the world's affairs,
whose troubles are too numerous to mention?
Starvation causes incurable diseases,
bizarre and unrestrained sexual behavior kills;
state after state approves of the same sex marriage:
Sodom and Gomorrah lives on
with their merry-making mocking!  



And the same individuals who frequent
holy places, in which they worship their god with vain praises,
condone the filth and ugliness already tolerated by society,
making easier for them to express their sexuality
in offensive ways and disobey God's commandment;
two men taking the role of a lovable daddy,
and two women that of a devoted mommy?
Aren't they sending the wrong message to those tiny beings?



If men lay with men and women with women;
conception is denied the joy of blissful birth,
and the screams of babes, coming out of the belly, 
won't be heard anymore...what an awful pity
for children not to have mom's and dad's affection: 
to live a normal childhood on this beautiful earth!
O lost and uncaring people, receive and hear with elation,
the Good News with their revelatory message of salvation!
  

Copyright 2009 by Andrew Crisci


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Passage of Time

Browsing the three dailies of T&T,
All I see are front pages covered with bloodshed, turmoil and misery.
Where is the country I once knew?
The multi-cultural twin island state: 
Where one can go out and not be concerned about the time he shall retreat,
Send his kids to a birthday party and know by night they would be returning with many treats,
A place where loud explosions can be heard at New Year’s or Christmas and know they are
simply in commemoration of these festive occasions,
A nation that can acknowledge each other with a glance and a smile,
Sometimes exchanging a few words of direction when someone ends up on the wrong aisle.

With the passage of time this peaceful atmosphere has changed,
And for that a spate of criminal activities has been exchanged.
Now I see my people crying out for attention,
Resorting to desperate measures to ease their mounting tension.
So they sprint to kidnap and kill,
For they think that producing chill would pay the bill.
But little do they know that the plans they concoct
Could have also been implemented to another situation to make a legal buck.
It seems that patience has departed from our people’s vocabulary 
And life is now being dominated by a blue periphery.

What happened to Sparrow’s “Education is a must,”
And Gypsy’s “Little black boy” that earned him gold dust.
Their messages were meant to be forwarded to future generations
Not buried with the public’s abominations.
These two songbirds highlighted the consequences of illiteracy,
Yet some people disobeyed and opted for anarchy.
Now that our country has entered a phase of endless confusion
The leadership is under attack for its lax disposition. 
While it would be fitting to place all the blame on the past and present government
It’s about time some parents took responsibility for their children’s detriment.








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Peri-Gonvre'(The Last of the Nerd who passed on)PART 1

Somewhere in the distant hill
lies a dilapidated old house that might give one chill
An old gentleman and his lady fare
were loners of life because they were the only ones there
Protecting a little child-teen of 13
A lonely  nerd or nebbish boy who only dreamed
to make friends with the outside but his inner self hide
the longings of a boy who was too bashful to confide
his parents took him from school because his
school-mates called him an Ugly and a Fool
Together,as three,they lived in this mansion ennui
The tales that can be told of this existence that
has kept them a Dead and one Cold
The Father took him Fishing(out back Yard there is a Hole)
to catch a big one-in their imagination mind-it is only a small peace
that both of them could ever find
Peri-Gonvre,the lad's name..that his school mates mocked LAME
All through the house,a child's laughter that scares away the most
disgusting cat or mouse
Both hands,left and right,has only two fingers each,that God made right
The attic above the 2nd story hall can only fit him because it is
5 inches too small(The Father-KinMen,designed it to be as confining as
the fireplace against the Stone Brick Wall)
Peri-Gonvre uses the room for his 'scape,from the island New England
that wanted to rape:the very spirit and the life of this like
sitting against the darkness,his eyes drifted far from the mortal Pike
SILVIA the feline little kitten coddled up next to him in this lonely Prison
She is the only cat to be allowed,
brighten up his disposition(disperse that iluminnescent Black Cloud)
Angel of the nightly SKY is first to shine upon the loneliness Guy
END OF PART 1


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A Narrowed Soul

Tonight I grow tired of keeping the secrets that were spark within my visions.  I 
must tell someone of what I saw and how the end came to be.  From the 
beginning we never understood how the human spirit came to be and the 
common thread of existence that bounds us like a string of beads waiting to go 
around the infinite loop of our universe.  Changes have come and gone and yet 
my memories do not change.  I saw the beginning and I saw the end but yet I 
live.  Why?  I remember seeing so many things.  I felt the fabric of everyone I ever 
knew intertwined within my every breath.   It was like we were machines.  As they 
say we were someone’s eyes and ears to a world that was going to end.  We 
collected as much data as we could before the end.  I am not sure if they know 
how much data I retained from these ordeals.  And maybe they know exactly and I 
am here because of it still.  But why?  I was taken through worlds that made no 
sense.  Worlds that were chaotic with no remorse.  I feared what I saw and 
asked my almighty GOD to help me overcome.  My children how I love them so.  
My daughter she was with me in my journey.  She is my life and what I believe 
has helped me make sense of everything that has and is happening.  Where am 
I?  Is this my world?  Is this the world that has become or just another vision.  
Someone’s idea of living.  Who would do this to a man?  I lost every connection 
to my existence, who I thought were my friends and family were only decoys of 
someone’s sentence.  Why? What do they hope to gain?  Am I lost in my mind?  
Is what I thought to be my reality a dream or a memory, am I blind.  Once I 
remember what it felt like to live with no fear.  To know that tomorrow you will get 
up and everything would be as it was and still here.  Unchanged and forgiving.  
How these things have change me!  How these things have narrowed my loving 
soul.  But I still hold the greatest love for my GOD.  If it wasn't’t for his helping 
hand reaching down and pulling me from the depths of the great beyond, I would 
have never been able to tell you this story.  We need to love life once again.  We 
need to go back to the basics my friend.  Is it too late?  Has the human race 
dwindled to the point that we must visit our past to fix our future?  The messages 
are clear, listen closely and you will hear.  Look even closer and you will see that 
we must never lose site of what it means to live.  This babble means nothing to 
who ever reads it but for tonight it will help me sleep.  Good night.


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Poor Young Paul

Goodbye Paul, my dear young friend, 
even thought it wasn't you're end, 
I still get those messages you send. 
You burned so bright you lived so fast, 
surely that pace could never last, 
you lived like a law unto yourself, 
left that rulebook on the shelf, 
you were a rebel, always in trouble, 
upto so much you must have had a double, 
but not a bad lad, just headstrong, 
it might have been right for you, but others saw it wrong, 
we all saw the good in you, 
a caring heart, pure and true, 
fate conspired to take you away, 
but you still hear every word we say. 
To be dead for longer than alive, 
fond memories and photos are all that survive, 
in our thoughts though you live and thrive, 
strength from your presence I now derive!
©John-Ovan.P.Hull


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Strong echoes

In today’s highlight of moral issues:
leadership of clergy in the Catholic Church;
seen as a major backlog of urgent need
that came out as the topic of our guest speaker.

She’s Dr Monica Applewhite, Ph.D.
who presented ‘leadership’ in perspective
held at St Joseph’s Seminary in Yonkers;
a huge place, a better rendezvous for this event.

Understanding the problem as the first item
brought us to embrace our roles as priests;
safe environments for children and adolescents
the main issue that was explored and shared.

The clergy of the whole archdiocese of New York
attended this session with learning experience;
it’s an update and a continuing information
that Church’s faith points to a shared witness.

With the presence of our beloved Cardinal Egan
who reinforced a plea for his clergy people,
alertness, action, vigilance and prayer
that’s how he drew the process in a nutshell.

Defined as a decision that demands seriousness,
our discipleship, our calling entails commitment;
as men of God in service to his own people,
our priority has its share of sorrows and joys.

To battle with the world, the flesh and the devil,
these are constant forces, tests and trials;
involved in this journey of following him,
Christ, our model and source of inspiration.

The cost of discipleship for someone like me,
embraces situations common to all people
how life is being led with depth and allegiance;
a biblical portrait, a priority matter, that Christ –
has called me to commit and be of service.


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Nothing Left Of Me

Living in a world of lies 
Addicted to the way we crash 
But it’s all about the flames 
Too bad they never last 

Our time is escaping 
Nothing left but a grain of sand 
We’re such a stunning disaster 
Everything moving, faster and faster 

Lost in the darkness 
Oxygen is running out 
I cannot breath, not even shout 
The world is spinning, closing in and turning black 


Living in a world of lies 
Addicted to the way we crash 
But it’s all about the flames 
Too bad they never last 

Grasping for some control 
It’s all too much to bear 
Tearing at the seams 
How can this be fair 

All that you are, every single inch 
My soul is crying out 
Devoured while aroused 
Go ahead destroy me, just a little more 

Dying in a world of lies 
Addicted to the way we crashed 
But it was all about the flames 
Sad they couldn’t last 

There’s nothing left to say 
Cuz there’s nothing left of me 
Watching you walk away 
It was the end of me 



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Two Years Ago Today

Today I woke to your voice, on the answering machine
I pourd two cups of coffee, and read the morning paper
I wrote a little note, and placed it on the T.V. screen
Yelled out I love you, and that I would see you later

Your sister waved at me today, She still shows me that I'm Number one
So I just waved back to her, and went on with my day
On my desk sits your picture, where you were so happy and having fun
Down there at the lake, two years ago today

Talked to my momma today, told her that we're doing fine
She asked if we were coming home, on thanksgiving day
I told her you had to work, but I'd be there by nine
And that I probably could, spend a couple of days

Driving home I saw your sister again, I just waved and reved the engine
I think she really likes me, She's always waving I'm number one
Tonight I fixed you dinner, Made your favorite bite to eat
Then I done the dishes, so that you could rest your feet

I opened a letter in the mail today, as I read it the words made me cry
Then I realized that I was all alone, and that you finally went away
I just couldn't believe, that you would ever say doodbye
And that this all happened, two years ago today


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Fairy Tale - Part 2

II

The storm came out of nowhere.

She awoke bruised and bleeding 
Surrounded by rubble 
Amidst major keys and jewel tones and 
Girls in white dresses 
With pink satin sashes.

Everywhere there were smiling people. 
She noticed that if she smiled, too 
The smiling people would clean up the rubble. 
She smiled when the bright colors hurt her eyes 
She smiled when sharp major chords jarred her 
She smiled when the girls in white dresses gave her spoons full of sugar with 
her medicine 
Because she didn’t like the rubble.

She smiled and watched and began to remember 
That in her infancy 
She had called one of the smiling people Mama. 
Another had delivered the mail 
Still others had been with her when she learned 
That cows say moo 
And two ones are two.

Now they taught her 
How to smile 
Even when she didn’t feel like it. 
They tried to teach her to speak 
But she had lost her voice 
And didn’t know where to find it 
And when they offered to lend her theirs 
She found it didn’t fit. 

The rubble cleared 
Her wounds healed 
She smiled most of the time 
Even when she didn’t feel like it. 
She had learned not to feel when she didn’t feel like it. 

III


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An Iniquitious Night Hawker

She knows him to be a destroyer
Oblivious of having made her, a self-destroyer.
With great passion she hates him
But gave herself to him.

Here he comes again
To make her do what she hates.
Fun you may say she derives now and again
But disgust is what she accommodates.

The only way out, though she seeks
For freedom she loves to obtain.
There stands on her way a veil
That make her shatter the safety she seeks.

Though she often hears a voice calling
Lift thy hands and thou art free.
She seldom tries
But her past keeps hunting.


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VALOR AND SACRIFICE

Who could forget what happened on that unsuspecting and sunny day,
when no visible clouds drifted over the Twin Towers?
Little after midnight, the cool rain adds to the melancholy 
of the descending angels; and I join them in prayer to remember the tragedy! 
This should be a day of remembrance, not of hatred for the ignoble acts 
the wicked committed, but would God accept unkindness instead of merciful deeds?



They called it another day of infamy,
and like Pearl Harbor we were taken by surprise;
that was an attack aimed at the military,
but on September 11 the terrorists attacked the civilians!
It seemed like lightning striking down sturdy trees,
and then fire broke out with smoke trails of a thousands feet;
" O my God! ", every employee screamed...quickly running down 
the stairs engulfed by fire...causing an indescribable chaos everywhere! 
" Take my hand, I will lead you to safety! " the firefighter said to the coughing woman. 
" Hold onto my arm! " the policeman yelled out to the frail man,
who had dropped his eyeglasses and couldn't see! 
Every firefighter and policeman acted like them, rescuing many without fearing death;
and hundreds of them, that awful morning, never returned home alive...
what a tragedy for their families that watched in horror and couldn't help!



Who wouldn't remember the courage of their noble and willing hearts?
And furthermore, who wouldn't engrave their valorous names on plaques and monuments?
Up above, by the gates of Paradise...Christ and His Father awaited them to accept their souls;
while archangels surrounding God's throne, sung hymns that humans couldn't sing...
those hymns that all the earthly heroes will sing with them when Heaven mourns again! 
 


Their portraits, pictures and memorabilia hang above the fireplaces,
and on the decorated walls of the victims' homes, precincts and firehouses;
how could anybody take them down as they were worthless items?
Prize them more than gold or diamonds, o friends grieving that tremendous loss even today;
don't hate those who caused you sorrow and unbearable pain, be forgiving and show mercy...
as God does toward us; o friends remember your heroes for their valor and sacrifice!  


My poem is dedicated to the victims and survivors of the September 11 attacks on America.

Copyright 2009 by Andrew Crisci


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just look to the sunrise in the east

She'll always be remembered for her golden hair
Youll never forget her grey green stare
But youll always forget her writing
Youll forget her words of fighting
Her poetry of crying
And her pleas of dieing
Youll forget her screams
But youll still see her in your dreams
Youll always remember the beauty but never the beast
Just look to the sunrise in the east
There you will find her rising with the sun in all her beauty
And all her fraility
You will see her there rising dead and alone 
With her wrist forever sown
If you look to the east where the sun shall rise
You will find her clensed of all the lies
You will find her price
Her sacrafice
What it took to make her whole
And because of what you stole
This beauty will fade away
But not her wisdom
For in her book it shall forever lay


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' Jennie - Pennie (My Big Sister)

Everywhere I Look … I See Jennie
Short, Red-Hair and a Smile, So Bright and Pretty
Jeanette … my Older, Big Sister… I Wish I was More Like Her…
        … My Dear Jennie … My Sweet Jennie …

Treated me like I was Her Baby … That was Jennie
Helped me to be a Real-Lady … Just like Jennie
Taught me how to Share and just how to say my Prayers …
        … Jennie … Great Lady Jennie

She was in Her Early Adult Years and I was Young Too
… when Mama Left… There was nothing, We Could Do …
            … Cancer … is not a Loving Word …
        I Wish It Had Been The Last I’d Heard …
                … Oh Jennie … Loving Jennie …

In that Cold-Clinical-Room … Lay Jennie
She Would Be Leaving Soon – God ! … Not Jennie !
She asked me, ‘Did She Fulfill … God and Our Mama’s Will …?’
        Yes, You Did Jennie… I Said You Did Jennie !

… She was in Her Late, 40-Years, but Still, Much Too Young To…
… Like when Mama Left… There was nothing, We Could Do …
                     … Cancer … is not a Loving Word …
                    I Wish It Had Been The Last I’d Heard …
                           … Oh Jennie … I Love Jennie …

When I Wrote This Song … I was Missing Jennie
God … We Can’t Believe She’s Gone … I Loved Jennie
        Jennie-Pennie … You Kept Your Promise…
                  Mama Will Be Proud of Us…

… May Jesus, Call Jennie … When The Time Comes, Please Call Jennie
          Lord Call Jennie … Lord Call Mama … and Then Lord Call Me …

            Jennie, Left Loved Ones... February 29th, 1992 …
          I hate Leap-Years Now …. ‘til I Leap of Faith to You …
                     … Cancer … is Not A Loving Word ! ! !
                             Will It Be The Last I Heard ? …


                      In Memory of my Beloved Sister
                                        Jeanette


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Peace

Let us take a stroll,
into this war torn place,
where there is no answer,
and some people thrive on hate.

Let us take a stroll,
as we hide behind a wall,
one you cannot see,
absent of justice or law.

Let us take a stroll,
and pray for all this to end,
rebuild a world of respect,
even if we all can't be friends.

Let us take a stroll,
and question what is right,
the people of this place,
didn't ask for this fight.

Let us take a stroll,
and beg for peace right now,
we need to love each other,
and end this all somehow.


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The Cold

   I stand alone from everyone.
In the dark morning shadow, cast down by a tree.
   It's long branches lingering above,
reaching out to touch me.
   I wait for a ride, with my hands down by my side.
The breeze comes, singing in the tree.
   Sweeping its way towards me.
Its cold.
   Yes very infuriatingly cold.
It crawls up my skin and sends...
   little prickles.
My flesh freezing to the slightest touch.
   Unable to move much.
I feel bitter, for I hate the cold.
   It makes me feel old.
For I am forced to remember, the old life I once lived.
   The things I had to give. 
The words left unsaid.
   The long ago snowy starry nights, full of porch and street lights.
Yes I remember very clearly, those dreadful long and lonely nights.
   I had my sister to keep me company, but no father.
For he would always be mad.
   Mad at me, mad at to whom or what I might turn out to be.
I hated him and with him, I hated the cold.
   The cold, that now sinks deep within my flesh and into my soal.

Dedicated to my Bastered father


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You Are My Curse

I had to let it all go,
The day and night,
Their hours ran too slow.
It was more than just a fight.
I trusted you and knew you,
My love succumbed to the worst,
Faith and loyalty just wouldn’t do.
You became my curse.
 
I was pulled down to Earth’s plane,
And judgment did set in.
Then new days begin.
I stood parallel as many went insane.
My heart drenched and my soul crunched,
I couldn’t let my heart take this very much.
I died and I died losing each endless breath,
I swallowed the victory and ate your death.
 
You reaped and I sowed,
But I saw no one grow,
Not even you.
What was I to do?
I let it go very slow,
Now I am all grown,
And I’m on my own.
I died watching you go.
 
I will always remember begging mercy,
I will always know this pain,
You are my curse you see,
And nothing did you gain.
I can never just be alright,
I can never love you the same again.
I died watching you go out of sight.
You are my curse and forever in my heart you made an end.


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RAIN FALLING IN OCTOBER

It's so mild in the quite suburbs
with rain falling in October,
and unable to sleep, I face 
insomnia for certain;
rain, keep on falling and let me hear
that steady, pelting sound on
the closed windows....a melody for
the saddest song should be written.


I must choose the right mood,
a minor scale to match this melancholy,
and a slow tempo growing into a crescendo,
and I could even throw in a scherzo;
and transport it with a C Major to smooth
some sadness out of the melody,
which tomorrow somebody
will hum, or whistle by learning the easy tune.


Hoping this song will be a hit,
thanks to the falling rain 
in October for the sudden inspiration...
when I couldn't think of anything else!
Wishing the rain would stop at six,
so I could see the rising sun across
the eastern sky and listen to the lark
that built his nest under my windowsill.


It's past sunrise, and the shimmering clouds hesitate to leave,
and with nothing to look forward to... I must believe
that the rain falling in October, 
can teach me the game of solitaire;
and pinned against my warm pillow,
I don't have anything to share but sorrow!
Flap your wide wings, friendly lark and repeat my song,
note by note; and without a lead sheet, I can't play it for very long...


Copyright by Andrew Crisci


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Friday

Always Friday has been
my favorite day;
not Saturday with
its frantic pace, 
or Sunday with Monday's 
anticipation, 
but Friday with 
Saturday's full potential
awaiting, like 
standing at the door 
of Westminister Abbey,
not having any idea 
what will lie on the
other side but
feeling it will be grand.
But when inside it is
too much, too complicated
with its high arching
ceilings, too high
to make out the fine details.

When you were away, 
Wanting you was wonderful,
imagining a chance meeting,
a close warmth behind me 
and I would turn and 
smell your heat
not touching but standing
so close my nipples swell and
stretch to you with longing.

But then you came back and
Watching you drink
and watching you sleep,
I knew there was something there
I didn't understand like the
fine details in the high arches
of the cathedral and my
Friday dreams were flattened
in the dull thud of Saturday's 
lost potential.


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Heroism and Passion

Flying high into the sky, 
I see you are sincere, kindhearted, 
fascinating and interesting…

How it really was when it mattered,
what was a long, long summer day, that
you brought history to our front door…

You could get your teeth into that juicy story,
 of remembrance, that was what kept you
 from going crazy…

Human character acts differently in 
each of us some can handle the stresses 
of war and combat while others cannot…

How and why we must self- justify 
what we do and how the world sees us 
and how the world is in upheaval…

To see you as a hero and your passion 
for freedom is overwhelming to say the
 least, but, it is greatly appreciated by
 the majority…

Keep up the good work,
 for we do remember and appreciate
 our freedom that you have fought 
so hard for…

By Sandra Lea Hoban
©2008


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That September Day

As the towers fell on that September day,
our horror, and shock, at the debris that lay.

How could this happen on our very soil,
"We are America," "Oh our tempers boiled."

So many people lost their life that day,
so many worked endless, looking for the ones
they could save.

Never giving thought to the  hidden dangers
unknown, only trying desperately, to save
everyone.

The reality of this tragedy is so very clear,
we are at risk, and we now know, a new 
fear.

We have to be careful, if we want to stay free,
because secretly, undetected, to our country 
they creep.

This is the reason our soldiers fight,
trying to prevent, another horrible
sight.

We have been warned, it will happen again,
these people are ready, they hate our country,
and for everything she stands.

God bless America, and keep us safe, and
protect our soldiers, in those lands, so
far away.




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a rose

A rose lay dead and dry
As a Girl sits to cry
The rose feels her tears
but knows not of her fears
The dead, dry rose can sense her pain and sorrow
For it too has no tommorrow
Alas that girl and the rose will sit there together and crumble
Their souls shall tumble
And the two will wither away
They'll both rot today
That girl and the dead, dry rose will never see another sunrise again
For today their end began....


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Black Beauty

She sits on her throne with a fixed smile on her ebony face
staring into the crowd, she sees the peasants all grim and dull
But the smiles on their faces tell her they have love, strength, and happiness

As a child in the Congo, she would swim the river and look upon the villages
filled with them
And like now, their smiles filled her hollow heart

Laughter choking the air
Making her existence stale and ignored

Love, dangling above her like her pet monkeys swinging in trees
imported from Asia for her father insisted she have the best

Turning away from the crowd, she looks into her
room filled with silks from India, Diamonds from caves in inner Africa

Plush pillows filled with feathers from geese that were handpicked from 
prosperous farms

She sits in her vanity, unwinding the long braid of hair secured at the top of her 
head

The long black hair falls beyond her shoulders, past her waist, until it lands 
above her ankles

A treasure, a beauty envied by all
And she used this, above the Congo River
Standing on her balcony

To drop, to tie it to a rail
to snap her neck, and hang freely
with one last breath, one last peek
at laughter and happiness

A life this queen never knew


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Empty

A great sadness has settled down upon me
a misty cloud of cold
I can hardly breathe
and I can barely see
and I'm damp and chilled
and in need of the scent of my lover.

A sometime intellectual but hardly
more than animal in my excruciating desires,
I leave my desk and go out on the street
to pace around the building in the dark
and wish I smoked
so I could fill these empty hands.


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The Leftovers

I was cleaning my room tonight  
and came across a guitar pick,
one of your used.
		
A further search 
among broken staple cartridges,
multi-colored plastic coated 
and classic metal paperclips and 
pennies, produced  
five other picks, 
worn down from their
original rounded triangles
to somewhat odd circles.  
		
I laid the picks out in a circle
like flat quartz rocks against
the sand-colored formica of my desk.
Two sky blues, one pink 
and two tortoise shells.
I close my eyes and hear your blues,
and mine surge like a wave
until I gasp for air.  
		
I treasured away your discarded picks
in a heart-shaped ceramic dish 
that got broken somehow
in the move at the separation.  
There should be more than this,
but I became unsupportive, you said,
when I tired of the smoky bars,
and then I wanted a degree,
which absorbed any extra energy,
so you no longer pitched me your picks
or thought I cared.
		
Maybe someone new gets your leftovers,
But I'm better off not knowing, 
just in case there is a limit past
the pain of which I couldn't take.
But I'll keep living anyway,
As long as there is a sun in the morning 
and the moon at night,  
I'll live for the rises and sets
if that's all I get. 


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Orbital Emotion

Am I a conglomerate of feelings, one meant to demonstrate the full
range of all emotion? But how? Is this possible? 
Daily to express the range of human emotion?
Is this human emotion, or that of some other?
This cannot be normality!  If anger, if rage destroy, then why am I
still existing?  If sadness and depression are suicidal, why do I stand 
in this place?

The range of such feelings, emotions, provocations is not fathomable by
any.  What then is the conclusion of the matter?  Is there a
conclusion?  Is there even a matter to be concluded?

If I am one of honor, why does any not exist, why is there no nobility,
no chivalry of any kind?  Was I bought forth to be an oxymoron?  To
show that one today with such a heading could not be so?  Is anything
vanity?

These utterances bring no comfort to the orbit of my mind.
They only complicate an already undeterminable cell of matter.
Why is there no comfort?  Procedure is followed, formula taken, but no
change, no result.  Am I so unaffected that no medicated solution 
bought forth will intoxicate me?


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Ocean's Death

The ocean’s waves beating
Beating against a huge rock
Ocean’s waves washing away the sand
The seagulls gulling
The salty smell of the sea
So overpowering
So calming
So relaxing
Then running towards death
I jump in the black, cold water
Feeling dead, as cold as death
The waves push me under
Their weight crushing my body
Feeling, groping, in the dark
Dying, fleeing, being…
I look death in the eye
It screams…I die…


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Taken: Part 2

The cards are dealt and the game begins
He can’t feel the cards as most of his nerves are dead, but he sees himself holding them
Seems impossible; he’s already holding two aces
Calls for three cards to replace the others
Astounded, he stares at his current hand
This additional ace makes three
One more go-around awards him with the last and final ace
He knows he’s won, but refuses to believe it’s real
Lays down the cards, the game is called in his favor
The strangely dressed man approaches him with the prizes
In his left hand he bares a .357 Magnum with one bullet to spare
In his right, a check for two million dollars
He briefly basks in the opportunity to finally have relief
To finally afford and buy the freedom he’s so long dreamt of

Seems ironic; the final betrayal, this last, final thought
Is of nothing and no one, but the one he lost


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Billy No Mates

I live a life quite solitary
friends? No, I don't have any
the stench of a loner I do reek
but, peace and queit is what I seek.
Down so low, where do I go?
When i'm in my rabbithole
more a rock without the roll
this hectic city's takin' its toll
all of these people in the street
yet no-one ever returns your greet
they just stare at their feet
pass you by like a piece of meat
their lives seem such a hurry
their faces etched with tire an' worry
they've got no time to spare
just pretend your not even there
some return a smile, every once in a while
but most run a mile, as if i'm an imbecile.
Humanity has gone to sleep
so much so I often weep
why most people are selfish creeps
who make me cry a river deep

I've had enough, i'm off to take a leap
goodbye cruel twisted world,
here I come silent eternal sleep!
©John-Ovan.P.Hull


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Fairy Tale - Part 3a

Midway through the season, 
Just as the tulips were fading 
A breeze from the north carried portents of late frost. 
Leaves began rustling more yellow than green 
Mixed with their whispers the faintest of sounds 
A familiar undertone 
A voice. 
Her voice?

Startled and hopeful 
She headed upwind toward the distant horizon 
Among whose clouds she would seek what was lost .

As she trudged through the meadows the voice became clearer 
The pitch, tone and rhythms combining in words 
‘If only,’ she heard.

Intent on her purpose 
She marched to the mantra 
If only, if only 
Directing her way.

She was unaware that the clouds were approaching her 
Faster than she was approaching them.

Dark grey and billowing 
Quickly they met her 
Showering crystalline all around. 
If only if only 
The voice still it beckoned 
She followed ‘til every vision turned white 
Then stopped and squinted 

Into the whiteness ‘til shadows appeared just off to the east. 
If only, if only 
The voice still it beckoned 
She felt a compulsion to blindly follow 
But drawn by the safety the shadows suggested 
She veered off her course 
And soon came upon 
Rubble from some long since forgotten storm.

Enclosed in shelter 
Exhausted she slept. 
A vague dream of another voice too faint for words 
Caressed her ‘til waking dawn



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THESE SAD NEWS DEFINE OUR TIMES

The blasting boom-box,on the dry sand,
plays my favorite tunes
as I read the local newpaper to scan
for some good news;
wars,sex scandals,murders,robberies
and terrorism make the head-lines...
Where are the good-spirited people
who make life thrilling and whole?
Are there anymore true heroes
who put others first instead of themselves?
Are there more good Samaritans
who live and die for others?

These sad news define our times
and however bad they may sound,
don't let them cause you doom
by staring into a mirrow of gloom;
try harder to bring more changes,
inspire unmotivated hearts with new words
and reprimand the villains and guiltless
by exposing their senseless actions!

These sad news define our times
as they unfold page after page,
praise those worthy of merit
and immortalize their remarkable deeds:
as a reminder of a time when
kindness was never overtaken
by avarice and meanness;
emphasize the struggles of their time
that turned those impossible tasks into fact,
to make sacrifice and victory forever bind...


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The Quiet

It’s too quiet in here… 
and it's that quiet she fears 

Alone in the darkness, turning sick 
Dread starts to devour her thick 
Stillness of the shadows mocking 
All oxygen seems to leave the room 
Senses in tuned, she knows he’s close 
Feels him before she can see him move 

It’s too quiet in here… 
and it's that quiet she fears 

All promises that things will be different 
Any hope of escape lost in the silence 
The secret of the heat, breath on her neck 
Sour stink and sweat envelope young skin 
Eyes closed tight, she swallows back the tears 
Dares not scream, knowing the trouble therein 

It’s too quiet in here… 
and it's that quiet she fears 

Only minutes it may last 
The demon, he makes it fast 
But it might as well be 
More than forever, an eternity 
For the scars are made, they still remain 
Eating away, taking a little more each day 
From a soul once so pure, so beautifully bright 
Fading soundless, mute into the darkness of night 

It’s too quiet in here… 
and it's that quiet she fears 

Left alone with her thoughts 
Fears turn to shame, too soon turn to blame 
Again resolve makes it home 
A more familiar one, it’s never known 
Won’t let it happen again, no never again 
She won’t let him near her, won’t let him in 
Whatever it takes, there must be away 
A safe place, somewhere else she can stay 

It’s too quiet in here… 
and it's that quiet she fears 

But all resolve starts to crumble 
Gives way to hopelessness and doubt 
As cold fear makes its claim 
Her life, such like a prison 
She cries out, but no one’s there to listen 
Nowhere to turn, not a place she can go 
Left to wait out her sentence 
Empty and huddled, trying to hide in the despair 
Lost in the quiet, he always seems to find her there 

It’s too quiet… 
Stop the violence, no more silence 



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Despair Everywhere

Standing on the platform of despair
awaiting a train to anywhere
whether it's over here, or over there
no idea where i'm going, and I dont care
must be better places everywhere.
What a shock, train is late
even longer I have to wait
quick pint to commiserate.
The road is long, the path is thin
surely being this miserable is a sin
need to find, this happiness within
turn the frown upside down and flash a grin.
The emptiness that dwells so heavily
only recedes when rhyming cleverly
the joy I get, from the sentence I create
this empty page, was fun to decorate,
distraction in thinking of the words I know
gelling together to make sentence flow
open my mind, for creative winds to blow,
but when the poems done, that's it for fun
back to the emptiness of a life humdrum
and a downwards slant from my thumb.
My hair I could tear out, screaming I wanna shout
do I always have to go without
even though there's so much about
from venison to rainbow trout
I feel like a vegetarian in a steakhouse
the only empty plate, in a very full house
I know i'm a lion, but I feel like a mouse
either that, or an abused spouse.
The pits of agony, i do fall
not anymore, stand and walk tall!
©John-Ovan.P.Hull


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The Golden Sparrow

Of finding 
The golden sparrow
Dream ended in blue sky
Too late to wish
 Innocence’s lost


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Off To Work

Today,
like many a day before,
I packed my lunch,
and headed out the door.

For many years,
every week the same,
in scorching heat,
and pouring rain.

Off to work,
two till eleven,
how many shifts,
there is no telling.

Payday to payday,
that's how it is,
house payment,groceries,
and doctor bills.

Then today,
I got the news,
another layoff,
what will I do.

Sell the house,
move in a tent,
my little check,
won't pay any rent.

The American dream,
where has it gone,
someone messed up,
I have no home.

Maybe one day,
my life will heal,
as so many others,
who got a bad deal.

Out on the street,
just trying to find,
any kind of job,
will do fine.


This is not about me,
but for so many this is the way it is....
I pray things will soon turn around,
and jobs will be plenty.....


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Depart

He is in a spot I have never seen him before
A position I cannot fathom 
Recognize
His hand folded on his chest
Wishing for one last breath
His care left us with everything
But what we didn’t know was that he was 
It never called for rain but it did that day
He never was all there anymore
And the song started playing
The guns went off
And my respect left for this man
Through battles he helped us all
Through it all we kept us alive
And he passed us by with a fair well
And a departure
For everything
And we was something to everything
We was everything to us


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the remembrance of me

rip my heart out and leave me her to bleed
lock me in an institute and throw away the key
shatter all my dreams
tell me more lies
shoot me
then leave me here to die
slit my throat
hide the evidence in a sheet
so no one can ever find me
hang me by a rope
make it look like suicide
then run away and hide 
cut me into peices with a sharp knife
stab me so hard, that im not found alive
shoot me with gun
take away my stuff
never see me
bury me alive
so no one can find me
rape me then leave me here to cry
suffocate my youth
and then leave me here to die
kidnap me
then lock me away
make shut my mouth so i have nothing to say
cut me in half
then bury me dead
kill me
then munipulate my head
slap me, hit me, then tear me up
kick me, taunt me, then hit me with stuff
yell at me
then kill me
cause thats all you want
you dont even know the meaning of love
make me lose something i treasure the most
whisper fake promises in my ear
then do little things to act like you care
throw me down the longest stairs
hit me across the face
and act like you cared
kick me out 
and leave me on the streets
make me give you money so i cant buy anything to eat
hit me with your car hide away the evidence
laugh in my face
call me mean names
call me a discrace
screw me up
do the horrible things you like to do
begin whispering fake promises so i fall in love with you
say, " i love you"
run me over with your ride 
tell me that your the only guy
kill me
tell me like it is
slam the door in my face 
tell me to leave the home you call your place
I tell you i wish i was dead
you say that thats not true
you say i live to only serve you
stab me in the heart
then hide my dead body away
when the police come you have nothing to say
murder me
suffocate my youth
take away my innocence
and never tell the truth
cause these are the harsh things you do
to someone like me
and you will never see
but these are the peices and the remeberance of me.


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Morning Star

Across her village far deep in to the forrest Morning Star found peace and 
contentment. Here away from her village, the young girl enjoyed the daylight 
hours with the sounds and beauty of nature and it's animals. Beyond the forrest 
the mountains held a mystery all their own. Their beauty touched her soul and 
spirit yet they seems so far off to her.Her thoughts wondered what lay over them 
and what new world lay beyond those haunting peaks reaching to the sky.
    Suddenly the early morning was shattered by the sounds of gunfire. With all 
the men gone hunting no one was there to protect the village. Morning Star's 
thoughts were of not only the others in the village but of her mother and baby 
sister, she had to get back to them. Screams of women and children cut through 
the forrest as the scent  of smoke and the sounds of horses grew closer.  
Suddenly the sounds began to fade and only the smell of smoke remained. As 
she stood at the clearing, Morning Star saw what was left of her village. Unable to 
move as her eyes looked across the bodies of women and children laying all 
around. Tears filled her eyes as she walked by so many searching for her 
mother and baby sister, hoping that they had fled to safety. There in the dirt lay 
her mother clutching her baby sister, both dead. How could this have happened? 
How could the soldiers have done this to them?
  Morning Star placed a blanket over her their lifeless bodies and slowly walked 
away. Her life as she knew it was gone, dead along with her mother and baby 
sister. She was the only survivor.  Slowly she walked back into the forrest. Dusk 
was beginning and the forrest would keep her safe for the night. Tomorrow she 
would search for a way up to the mountains, there she would find a path to her 
destiny and what the spirits have chosen for her. She would be the only one to 
tell the story of all who had been lost this day. She would be the only one to keep 
their story alive for generations after this.


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The War in my Head

The war continues in my head – 
The enemy bombarding my thoughts
Day after day, night after night – 
Never allowing me time to rest and regroup.

My defensive line is losing ground as the enemy advances.
There is chaos among the ranks – 
Exhaustion has set in, the arsenal is almost empty,
And I have no more reinforcements.

The troops are tired and overwhelmed –
There has been talk of retreat –
They fear defeat will soon be coming.

Over the horizon, it is easy to see the enemy approaching –
Heavily armed with an array of weapons.

The enemy’s attack of my thoughts and feelings intensifies – 
With the goal of wearing us down –
Pummeling us until we can no longer fight back – 
Until all we can do is lay down our weapons and surrender.

I am starting to fear that this is a losing battle - 
A battle we cannot win.


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Drama

There is just too much
drama everywhere I go
people talking behind each others back
too much fighting
what happened to the
respectful people
in this world
so much has changed
the drama is getting worse
why can't the drama stop
why does everyone have to fight.


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Fear

I have fear
of walking down the street
afraid of everybody
who comes near
fear is what's wrong
I can't trust anyone
I am afraid to go to work
but I go anyway
I finally learned
how to deal with my fear.


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My friend

The one I grew up with
the one that was like a brother
to me
has passed away
he took his life
on accident
he has a newborn daughter
and a lover they will love and miss
him forever
the only thing everyone can ask
is why.


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The Graveyard

The wind seemed colder that December day,
as I walked among the graves marked with
marble so gray.
Some had a story carved for all to see,
while others were just marked, Rest In 
Peace.
Pictures of the deceased, were on a few,
as I looked a little closer,
to see how many I knew.
Then in the distance, 
I saw a crowd,
another loved one to be buried,
then my head I bowed.
Old graves stood out,
their markers so tall,
darker than most,
like shadows at nightfall.
Sad to think, some had to die so young,
but way back then, not much could be done.
Strange it may seem,
to visit the dead,
but facinating to me,
on the life they led.


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Same

All I waned was a show dog 
A dog to run and play
A beautiful and talented dog
But it all changed the night 
The night that three legged dog showed up 
Like a gift from god
He’s weary limps weren’t beautiful
He couldn’t run but tried and I watched him drag his leg 
But then he turns and runs towards me 
And I forget everything I just thought 
As he jumps into my arms
I hug him as though there is no difference


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Its whats in side

All I wanted was a show dog 
A dog to run and play
A beautiful and talented dog
But it all changed the night 
The night that three legged dog showed up 
Like a gift from god
He’s weary limps weren’t beautiful
He couldn’t run but tried and I watched him drag his leg 
But then he turns and runs towards me 
And I forget everything I just thought 
As he jumps into my arms
I hug him as though there is no difference


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Lonely

Lonely is the Love
That has nobody to hold.
Lonely is the heart without a good night hug.
Lonely is the smile without a kiss to follow.
Lonely are the eyes without a star there is no sparkle.
Lonely is the love for without a partner there is no laughter.
The harp that no longer plays, a melody that fades.
The colors that slowly turn gray.
The touch of a warm hand and the hair that it caresses.
Loneliness, the inside cries of a child and the parents that have never seen it.


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Bad Days

 I'm in a messed up kind of mood and it was one of 
 those days
 Where I realize that I have no luck but in all the
 worst ways
 The husband that's never home, and the inlaws that
 always are
 What is family anyway, just people who will scar
 It goes back to childhood really, I always just 
 came last
 What am I really saying, that it goes back to my 
 past 
 But the truth of the matter is, I wasn't well liked
 anyway
 Always the second best and not first asked to play
 Such a young age when I put the wall on my heart
 Because of childhood lost and the family torn apart
 Never wanting to learn, and not trying to succeed
 But I played a good role at pretending to be happy
 Just going day to day, living a crazy life
 With every passing second just thinking I would die
 All these bad things seemed to happen and I seemed to 
 only cry
 Like I was born with too many feelings, and I had to
 wonder why
 Always seeming to suffer, and it gets so hard to live
 Because the feelings that are lost, it makes me scared
 to give
 Maybe someone will notice, maybe they will see
 That there really are some good pieces of me


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My Only Desire

I never wanted to be with this guy.
After meeting and talking to him,
I got a message from the big guy in the sky.
“Help him, Nikki,” and I wondered why,
I still do.
Being around him made me,
 Happy sometimes and sometimes blue.

Every time I wanted things between me and him
To be through, the big guy would say no,
“I told you that I wanted you to see,
What I made him to be.”
I saw many great things and felt great,
After being with him, loving him,
And praying for him constantly.

I saw what God wanted him to be,
And how he was being held back by himself,
His family and those people in the streets.
I fell in love with this man,
Not because I really wanted to.
It was because He wanted me to.

My plan was for him to be with me,
For three days only.
It wasn’t God’s,
This situation is odd.
We started getting closer,
And doing things together,
Like we were supposed to.

This journey began as friends not lovers,
We had many good times,
As long as battles, trials, and struggles.
During this process , I realized that this man,
Was just like me.
Hurt by someone that was supposed to teach,
Him to love and how to be loved.

I did not do everything right,
But I tried.
Many nights I prayed and cried,
Because of the similarities of our lives.
My only desire was for him to be successful,
Not to be with me.
He’s still unsuccessful, so I’ll stay on my knees,
Until that only desire is achieved.


He fulfills the desires of those who fear him; he hears their cry and saves them. Psalm 145: 
19



(started 1-15-10 finished 1-23-10)


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The Voices

The voices continue their menacing chatter
despite my fierce resistance –
unrelenting and merciless,
commanding my full attention and
trying to consume my every thought.

Their noisy banter overpowers my attempts
to ignore the ominous words – 
words that are evil and demeaning,
words that will drag you down to the depths of despair.

They try to dominate and control my every move.
I beg them to stop,
to leave me alone and
let me regroup and collect my thoughts.

Their response, however, was mere laughter –
sinister laughter along with insults and threats.

Disheartened and hopeless, I begin to realize 
the feebleness of my attempts to quiet the voices.
It is now so obvious they have no intentions
of granting me some peace – even for a moment.

In fact, they plan to intensify their attack –
to once and for all quickly accomplish their goal –
their goal of rendering me hopeless and helpless – 
incapable of having any control over my thoughts and feelings.


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TIME TO WALK AWAY

Whenever the bad times
outweighs the good,
And you have a change of mind
about marriagehood.
And you get to thinking
that just maybe the grass is greenier on the other side,
Because you are tired of always hurting
drowning yourself in tears that you always have cried.
You have noticed for quite some time
that there is a change in the love,
So much you long to leave it all behind
but it is the welfare of the kids that you be thinking of.
It is so sad to say
but the love is no longer there,
You ask yourself why do you still stay?
when in actuality for him you no longer love or care.
You have drifted away from him
you have found that you no longer feel the same,
It is as though he is no longer the same man
in him you have also noticed a change.
You both are just kidding yourselves
for believing that staying together for the kids is what is best,
You both know that the love is no longer there
you both know that walking away is what is best.
The many deceits and lies
just took a major toll on it all,
That no matter how hard you both may try
the love really matters not at all.


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HANGING ON A PRAYER

I have this strong urge to just walk away
but I cannot seem to do so,
Something in my heart is telling me that I should stay
and to just try and hold on.
The situation is getting much too thick and troubling
I am getting tired of always trying to make amends,
Often times I find myself asking
"How long can I continue to stand by my man?"
I knew all was not always going to be a bed of roses
we were going to have our share of ups and downs,
But it seems as though that here lately
all I have been doing is shedding more tears instead of smiles.
The few arguemetns I find are slowly wearing me down
I wish that they would just end rather quickly,
The few arguements that we have had always makes me feel so down
to the  point I become physically sick.
I am trying my best in hanging in there
but I am finding myself slowly losing my grasp,
I am just hanging on a prayer
for how long will our love really last?


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The Blues (2006)

I am sitting here alone
Here all alone
This is not my real home

I have nothing and no one
Absolutely nothing and no one
All the love I ever had has gone

My destiny in life is what I sing bluely 
I sing it bluely
Until I am yours truly


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An eerie night

An ailing confrere moans in his bed,
helpless and willing to be at peace;
ready to go far beyond this world
and be with his Maker – all that he needs.

  He struggles with his failing health,
  unable to speak and share his sentiments;
  his remaining thread of strength
  attempts to impart his faith
  invoking the blessing and power beyond
  a source of grace, reliance on his compassion.

As he enters the last hours of his life,
breathing becomes so strong –
perhaps God and His angels
take him around in His spiritual presence
inexplicable, a mystery to recall.
While Medieval painters depict the soul,
with a smoke that comes from the mouths
of a dying person; he’s restless.

  It seems the howling of dogs hover
  in the neighborhood across the rectory;
  like a musical background, gritty -
  scary and frightening to an individual
  an eerie night that seeks
  to be nearer to God.


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Second rate beauty queen

When you look at her you wonder,
How can she think like that?
But when she looks at herself in the mirror,
All she sees is the fat.

She claims that she's too busy,
With friends, work, and school.
To sit down for a family meal,
But in reality she simply longs to be cool.

As days go by her body begins to wear and thin,
Her parents begin to wonder if it's too late.
To save their only daughter,
Who's still obsessed with her weight.

Knowing it was time, she left a note that said:
"To all those who were so mean,
And pressured me to be thin. You'll be happy to know,
I died as I lived: A second rate beauty queen.


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LEN

Once upon a long ago
Len became my closet friend
visible only to my 12 year old eyes
5 ft 9,he was just about my size
Helping me through the loneliest time
We would write some sad poetry together in mind
I was slightly small
But..that hardly mattered at all
Happy,
the two of us could BE
Shy and all together silent
He was the only one who could see through my talent
The words in music and verse
We would put down the emotion in pen of chorus

It was US against THEM(they must have been blind)
to castigate this friendship without first understanding the meaning
Up against the brick wall
THEIR world considered us somewhat stupid and oh!so small

Our brain was reeling from their fundamental cruelty of pain
This poetry that we had composed was torn to shread(IN FRONT OF OUR EYES)
Len was the only one
to help me see beyond the pettiness of an I GOT TO HAVE IT ALL kind of world
My elementary school chums would punch us in the nose
Called us asinine names:TWO PANSIES WEARING PANTY HOSE

Len disappeared some several years back
He left me for good after graduating from high school
It has been a lonely existence since then
I was the only one who could understand my friend,LEN
Quiet now ,
in my 30+years
Poetry is the only partner of my life 
Right here,even as I write..

..I OFTEN THINK OF MY "LEN" EVERY NIGHT!!


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APRIL DECORATES NATURE

April decorates Nature
with snowy festivity...
to resemble a season so wintry;
will the unwelcome snow head for the shore?

The very disappointed skies gleam unpleasantly,
and the saturated earth weeps in agony;
who commanded the wrath of the tempest...
when winter supposed to be laid to rest?

The snow's showers cover the budding hills
quicker than the gelid rain of winter;
far and away...hope is illusory and brief,
and the questioning mind deflects its early coming!
Does this season have a late beginning,
or is it caused by an unknown factor?

April has smothered winter and hasn't protected
the trees, flowers and plants from frost;
almost everything has perished in its ferocious course,
and the desperate farmer deplores an harvest so scarce!

Inside is so cozy and warm, the gusty wind
is heard through the fireplace that retains the heat
of the crackling logs underneath;
some folks cherish moments like these!

April decorates Nature
quite beautifully and impressively;
brutally or unfairly...
it becomes an inevitable rapture!


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Letters From Someone You Loved

Dearest love,
I hope this message finds you well,
I only hope I don't die
before I find my way to you
in this letter form I must lye.

Bombs are my goodnight hug
and riffle shot my lullaby;
deaths my goodnight kiss
and war scenes my dreams high.

It's funny how I live in monotony
yet they say expect the unsuspected
as gun shots whiz by
we know, our lives by death have been accepted.

Boys cry for mommy
as their lives bleed away
and it seems the ink I write you in
is their blood after each day.

My love I hope soon to return
to once again be with you my beloved
and hope you can still find me as you look in my eyes
and recognize me as someone you once loved.


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A murderous rampage

It’s like a bloody nightmare, a ‘dark turn’ in Virginia Tech University,
where thirty-two students and teachers got killed while classes were in progress;
people panicked and pandemonium broke loose around the campus,
police everywhere came to protect them and searched for the gunman.

This young fellow who’s identified as a South Korean student,
enrolled in his senior year with a special concentration in English;
shot those schoolmates including five teachers inside the classrooms,
killing them mercilessly with his gun and later, he killed himself.

What a tragedy! What a deadliest school shooting in U.S. history!
described as an alarming reality among students in today’s generation
this killing has become like a pattern now that makes global headlines,
a horrible scene, a picture of gory incidents, indeed, it’s a tragedy.

Expressions of condolences were read and conveyed to bereaved families,
the outpouring of grief did move everyone to share his sympathy and sorrow;
across the nation the depth and height it showed with certain questions 
became a rising tide of human anger, sadness, and racial animosity.

That very moment of shooting many were gripped with fear and urgency,
they hid themselves against the gunman; others were injured and killed;
others were able to escape and relay their message of help in their midst,
oh, such an experience that shook the inner sanctuary of every person.


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Emilé

The evening air blows twice as fair
when it is kissing her sweet strands of hair
to glimpse her rosy cheeks, perchance her eyes
any passerby would swoon.

Down the street the lamplights flicker on
a feeble gesture, half in vain
for any light forfeited by the sunset
is given to the moon.

And where it’s wanted shadow still creeps in
Observe! Behind a mule cart sits
bundled up in robes and motionless
the sweet girl prior mentioned.

Horses’ footfalls echo from the sides of shops
and disappear as masters drive
into some warmer corner
of the cold Parisian night

As well pedestrians shuffle by
at somewhat slower pace
and but the smallest turn their gaze upon
the pauper woman’s face

But none can see, but none can see
into this sweet girl’s reverie
the chillness in her breath
is the only sign she gives

Her eyes are closed, and now she flies
through darkest depths of mind to happier times
one summer evening on a porch
beside her lover true

When gaze is not transfixed upon the other
drinking from the depths of melancholy passion
it gorges itself upon the greenest grass
like heifers lowing on the hill

or bunnies bounding through the field
or crickets chirping in the reeded orchestra
all similes reveal themselves at twilight
to those in love, in elevated sight

and minds are read, so no surprise
can narrow further catlike eyes
when her lover true decides
to reveal to her the truth

“Upon this eve I have received
a letter from the Guard, with intent
to draft me into the army
as the gears of war are turned

you know how much I long to stay
within your arms until my dying day
but I’ve heard tales of those who tried to flee
many try, and none succeed

so in a week I’ll board the train
the line from Marseilles to Lorraine
and write you letters every night
until the morn that we shall hold each other tight”

And no words formed upon her lips
the falling leaves told all
but when they kissed tears did form inside their eyes,
rolled off, and mingled in their mouths.


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ON THOSE WARM DAYS OF JUNE

Nobody should be by himself,
feeling the weight of desperation;
such is the fate of mine
struggling to see
my shimmering star...
I try to deny it to myself,
but all I see: 
is the reflection of me!

On those warm days of June, 
when summer knocks with joy
on the heart's door,
to bring songs and dreams
to those starry-eyed lovers
lying by gliding streams;
I wait like them ,with that feeling of anxiety,
for my beautiful one,
who promised me to dance in the open sky:
her long,golden hair 
covered by tiny,pink roses;
her delicate arms fluctuating like waves...

Alone in a place of isolation,
improvising my lamentation;
daffodils enamor me with their bright color,
even they have their friend sun
to whisper to in the high-noon...
as their words don't comply with my humor! 

On those warm days of June,
blu-jays gladly attune
to my melodious tune,
to turn those moments into a medley
and keep this lover's heart from being lonely;
from somewhere her love-inbued eyes
will surprise me with an illusory glance!

Who wishes to be immersed in desolation,  
imagining to be choked by closed walls...
when hope can lead one out of frustration?
It takes a strong will and a fantastic dream...
to bring to life what lies within! 



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The Bitter Truth

Skies so black, like, cold, cold, coal,
barren ground, exposing ones soul.
Mysteries of the universe, 
does anyone hold,
only decades of time, will show.

Masters of creation, all play a part,
made from deception, from the start.
Bringing much turmoil, where no one hides,
makers of misery, and lies.

Doom is the reaper, no conscious at all,
standing in a place, destined to fall.
Greed wins over, and cast goodness out,
as they lay down their weapons, and shout.

Long will be the journey, for the guilty of heart,
denying to them self, they were ever a part.
Sadness will follow these cold black hearts,
as they wallow in the blood, death has marked.

Sands of evil, infested with pain,
masters gather, plotting their gain.
Torment  of the innocent, no voice be heard,
waiting for victory, and graves be dug.

Temptation of power, so easily taken,
cover it up, someone is mistaken.
Cascades of smoke, swirling to the sky,
the bitter truth, our freedom died.





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UNTITLED

Why do I still choose to stay on here?
Surely, it cannot be the love that I have for him,
Right before my very eyes he is always changing
it is as though I know not hardly.
I am getting so sick and tired of him throwing up in my face
the fact that he is the one that goes to work each and every day!
While I sit here at home on my butt
doing not a job but merely work.
Over and over I have tirelessly explained
but it is his view of what I do that will hardly change,
I try my best in blocking out his hurtful comments
but at times I ask myself: "Is it really working?"
He saids these things in such a funny way
but in between the lines rings the truth in what he say,
Why must he always do this to me?
Why do I allow him in doing this to me?


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Outside

Cold window pane
Or prison bars
For Susan they are the same
Her imagination runs free
As she is trapped inside
But outside the dream
She can hear echoes of autumn
Leaves chattering
Rustling amidst dancing feet
So many children laughing
Her heart racing
Asking
Why is that not me
Yet Susan feels nothing
Except her breath on the glass
As reality comes between
She struggles to understand
Her only playmate her hands
Rocking her dreams to sleep
Cold window pane
Or steel chair
For Susan they are the same
Her imagination runs free
As her legs are strapped inside
But outside the dream


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Sanity

Wisps of Sanity
Like gossamer filmy wings
Fluttering on my face
Cannot be touched or they will fall to ruin
Fighting to keep up so I can feel
The soothing graze of normalcy
Running, face thrust upward
Pushing against trappings of the truth
Losing the fervid feeling by the moment
Knowing it will quit me soon.


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Sad Night in September

How can I forget that sad night in September 
It’s so hard to forget
how can I not remember
For it was the night of my mother’s death
No one expected it to happen
For it was sudden when she left
Yes it was sudden when she left
And yet not peaceful
From what I remember seeing
It was very scaring

I cried with such tears 
as I watch her pass away
Scared because of how she looked
Sad because of I knew it was her last t day
And not only was it I
Who sat down and cried that night
 But friend and family too
Be4cause we all know there 
was nothing else we could do  

Happiness is not what we felt
at he end of that night
but sadness is what
broke the shine in our light
So how can I forget that
 sad night in September 
it’s so hard to forget  
How can I not remember


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Confounded

Regaining a confident spirit, as positivity blossoms within.
The utter sense of a rut has vanished, the charismatic advanceman is
back in control.
Waiting to tackle any and every obstacle with urgency and admirable
aggressiveness.
Feening for opportunity to make his voice be heard, to speak out above
all others.

But just then timidity grips his core, he can utter no word.
Panting, gasping for a breath...why is such a change so rapid?
Confused, all are waiting for the aggressive natured potentate to
arrive, but he is no more.
Replaced by a gentle mild mannered individual, he lies in the company
of beast-like characters...waiting to envelope him.

He withdraws from the situation, doubting himself and his abilities.
His doubts, his motives, are all called into question.  What has
happened to the mind and heart of such a respected obelisk-like figure?

He used to dwell by the belief of trusting himself when doubted and
reviled by all others.
But now when doubting himself, what doctrine is to be of a consolation?
 
Withdrawing...fear gripping...there seems to be no reflective insight,
no thinking or wishing of solution.
Only debilitating doubt and an utter dread of the day to be dawned.



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Death of a nun

Her name was Sister Mary Mercedes Gleason,
A tiny woman with so much wisdom and care,
who belonged to the religious congregation -
the Presentation of the Blessed Virgin Mary.

She lived a longer life: 98 years of age,
amazing and a flashing mem’ry to all
her imprint of life she shared with everyone
she dedicated herself to the religious life.

She died in sleep at the early hours of Tuesday, 
with serenity and less suffering thus far;
what a beautiful soul! What a gift of holiness!
truly,  a woman of the Gospel in every sense.

Her community grieved her loss and,
at the same time celebrated for her new birth –
that’s in heaven, in the life hereafter with her Maker;
rejoicing with her triumphant journey with Him.

She lived longer for higher purposes and meanings,
embracing the challenges of being a religious;
expressed in human language and good works,
her examplary life manifested with piety and humility.

With her balm of choice to love and be mindful
of people around her in diverse moods and feelings;
she would love to share with them even in moments
with her caring presence to accost them with a smile.

She’s history, memories and relationship in toto,
Like everyone else, her life went on the calendar;
Like a new chapter that says, ‘to live to die is gain.’ 
her own life is a testimony, an inspiration to all.


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Scilence

The people sit iced
In the winter

In the dark
They tremble in shadows

The night is cold
The night is endless

They're frozen in the snow
Like roses

They're sleeping

The flowers echo the sun
No one watches
No one rises

The fire of hope is our warmth
The flam is weary
It will die soon


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Another Season

She placed a rose,
on his grave today,
then sat in silence,
bowing her head to pray.
Thanking her Lord,
for the time they had,
remembering how the good,
out weighed the bad.
Only sixteen,
when she said I DO,
their fifty years together,
thinking, how they flew
Now alone,
another season has come,
a whole new world,
has now begun.


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Misery + Ecstasy

"my ecstasy is my misery,"

and she swallowed the pill,
counting the minutes that
separated their difference:

misery and ecstasy, walking
hand-in-hand through the rut
in the valley of denial, drowning
so deep in waves of blurred
stimulation; hopeless, her nerves
crack,
rushing past the speed of pain,
only to slide through her fingertips
back onto another pill that,
yet again,

she clutches like a sleepless lover
in the glow of capsules and a blacklit
agony; her heart beats erratically-
a prisoner waiting to break free
from its cage, and feel life, smoothly
coursing through her veins,
as she swallows-

her pulse spikes and eyes roll back
to a place of no thought; no judgment
to measure just what she's living for,
looking for, or why - a fairytale land
of neon greens and electric
emotion
a place where she's alone
just enough to be comfortable
in a room full of dead light and
decaying relationships; 
she turns her back, knowing
she'll be stabbed, bound, tied and
gagged.

but this way,
no one will notice her eyes
rolling
head lolling
back, moving
to the violent heartbeat-
stifling her mumbled pleas
of lonely syllables
not a soul will hear -

"please,
just bring me back"


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The Sorcerer and the Apple

Hearken well,
As I commence to tell
This tale of the apple that fell
From a tree I believed from Hell:

Black I wore on this sunny day,
Similar to all my other days
When the Sun went away
I Lost all faith,
Thus lost my way.
Where my integrity went, no one says.
I Walked into a dark forest,
A maze,
On a night with no moon and no face,
I gazed at the gates
Not afraid, but rather amazed.

Me, myself, and I,
On this blackest of nights,
Walking in this forest of frights,
Without any shining light,
Blinded by self-stupidity,
A stark, blinding dark,
The beast's, who shall be named Anger, barks,
My bullying ego and my absent heart,
My sanity and humanity, were way too far,
You see I was helpless from the start.

When everything "seemed", or so to speak, wrong,
And hope was long gone,
Without a spawn
An apple came along,
I was no longer alone:

This apple gave me eyes,
In many ways made me wise
This apple offered light;
It defined beauty,
In color, shape, and size.
'twas a precious surprise.

But then came a time,
Again, I became blind,
Only with a stupidity, quite sublime,
So here came the crime:
I was succumbed by hunger and greed,
Needed to feed my needs,
My desire:
To eat the whole fruit but the seeds,
I devoured it,
Indeed I did.

What a waste, such a life,
Such a pity,
One True Lie,
I sliced the apple in slices with my knife.
That which represents my insolence and pride.

If only I had left Hubris by the tree,
Withholding Anger in his leash, next to me,
Then I wouldn't have agreed
To walk right beside Glee,
Sadly, I was weak,
As you can see,
My tolerance limited to short degree.

Here I am,
I see dark,
I see not.
Hear the lamb,
The one I'll sacrifice
To get my apple back.


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In the Silence of the Night

In the silence of the night
The neighbors could hear
Someone putting up a fight
And shedding some tears
They had an idea of what was going on
But they turned out their lights
Even though they knew it was wrong
Night after Night
It was the same routine
The yelling would begin
Then the pain at 9:15
When the beating was done she would lay in bed
Lay under her covers crying
Praying to God for this all to end
In the morning she would leave for school
Trying to cover her bruises
And not wanting to break a house rule
Everyday, week after week
She came up with a new excuse
Hoping her teacher would not ask for the truth
Even though he knew it was abuse
She anxiously watched the clock
Hoping three never came
Hoping things would be different
But it was always the same
Daddy came home drunk
Mommy was high
Except this time her head hit a trunk
And she knew it was time for good-bye
She used to think it was because she was bad
That mommy would yell
And daddy would get mad
After she hit her head
An Angel came from the sky
It said there would be no more pain
And no more needing to lie
As she lay there bleeding
Blood pouring onto the floor
A huge smile came across her face
Because she knew God heard her prayers
And that she would be in a much better place


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Catharsis

A steadfast gust from the slamming of the door
grazed the terrain of her peach forearm
Her tiny chestnut hairs stood tall as
the ancient oak tree towering over their backyard

Signs of spring were blossoming 
While a once euphoric state withered around her
Plucking any stimulus from her diminishing being

Tears dangled on end 
of her spider-clumped lashes
She faught their release
for the journey down her visage 
would only confirm his twisted exposition


How could the beholder of guilt
Be the bearer of insult
He could accuse of her unfounded infidelity 
Well knowing his conscience was faulty

April rain purifies a soiled seed
Instilling deep within her
the catalyst for new being
A worthy blossom she is 
and wither she will not


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The White House

broken down
withered chimney
hidden stories within
lost loves in this tragic place
a tragic fire took many lives
the white house
may not be alive today
but neither are the owners
for this a place in history
in my lonesome life
the white house in my memory will indeed be sacrificed


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The Pain

I told you I was done
That I didn’t even think of it anymore
But I was wrong
And I need to tell you the truth 

Every night in bed I dream
I dream of cutting over and over again
Some nights I even wake up crying
To silent for you to hear

Some nights I just want to wake you
To feel you hold me tight
To hear you tell me its alright
But I let you sleep

I wish you knew how hard this is for me
I wish you could understand the pain
I wish you felt the urges that I get
If only you knew the pain 


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Lady Misery

She who walks in darkness, they call her. 
She lives where the sun is turned to darkness. 
The black depths of death, she never sleeps. 
At night she rises from her shadowy place in the world, 
In search of the one who stole her soul.

Into her very heart the fire burned, 
Because of he, her heart is cold. 
She yearns for a life where there are no more tears, 
For it's been too many years. 
She gave him her heart and all that she could give 
And in return… he gave her fears. 

Fears of another he let into his heart and therefore he parted.
She tried making him stay, she begged and pleaded. 
He said he no longer needed her love, her touch…
He knew she loved him so much. 
He left, never to return again, in the end she did not win. 
So she packed up the three things that meant the most to her 
And left to go down under. 
And with her she took pictures of him and her, her poem book, 
…and a broken heart. 

She is now forced to roam this planet sadly and lonely. 
She feels used; she looks for no ending to her agony. 
She cries tears of red, they say. 
She's as beautiful as the goddess Aphrodite. 
People claim to see her nightly. 
The look upon her face is sad and lifeless, 
As a ghost they say she floats. 

Never again will she love another 
She'll search for him till her life is over.
Lady Misery is her name 
And forever her heart lies in pain.
          


 


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Fallen Angel

There was a girl
She loved and laughed
She was one of God's angels
Her smile could light up the dark
Her heart was pure and trusting
She didn't know pain or heartache
Her wings were wide and flowing
Like downy feathers of a chick
And her halo was untarnished
And it had never been bent
She believed in nothing but happiness
Her beautiful eyes had never cried
And others looked upon her
With love, laughter, and hope
The little girl was broken
Someone shattered her crystal world
And as glass confetti rained down
She realized she was torn
Her wings had been broken
And they were covered in her blood
For her body had been violated
And she was innocent no more
Her halo lay at her feet
Bent sorrowfully in half
And she looked up to heaven
And heard a pitiful laugh
The little girl cried endlessly
She couldn't fix her wings
To fly up and sing with the angels
Was all she had wished to do
But because she was broken
It became all to clear
That little girl, she died that day
And I am what remains
A fallen angel


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The Forgotten

She stares out the window at the old folks home.
She feels like it is all a dream and cries when she is alone
No one comes to visit her although visits are allowed each day.
Her children say it is just too hard and live too far away.
They were married very young, but were so much in love.
When hard times seemed too much they prayed to God above.
The children grew up happy-then they moved away.
The couple did not notice the passing of each day.
He was sick for many years and she stayed at his side.
She prayed a cure would soon be found for the cancer eating him alive.
Her hands sometimes hurt and her body was old.
But with him at her side she felt good as gold.
She plays with her fingers as she watches him breathe.
She watches the clock and she starts to grieve.
His body has become silent and still.
The nurses come in with forms that need to be filled.
She is numb as she listens to sermons of life after death.
Friends of the family say sorry, and wish her the best.
The medical bills are too much for her to pay alone.
The bank has come to say they are taking her home.
She can't  believe that after sixty years he is gone.
This old folks home- she knows he would say is wrong.
She takes the medication that she does not need.
She takes out her old worn Bible and sits down to read.


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Love

She sat in silence, object of senseless shame
a silhouette of beauty, sketched by shadow of flame
Eyes of mirrored glass, dancing to the glowing fire
seduced by the embers’ flight, pirouettes of crackling desire
Back arched to attention, spine tingling, skin of fairest silk
her arms motionless, hands teething, clutching naked self
With feet crossed, her toes curled, biting a hardwood life
a sullen portrait, a pictureless mantle, of barren strife
                               Moonless midnight hair 
 pouring over pastel shoulders like a timeless ebony wine
                           Her virgin breasts blanketed
   haunted  by the chilling howls of a rusted broken chime
The walls crept closer, the ceiling inched ever so high
seconds became minutes, hours a deafening sigh
She sat breathless, lost, sobbing on gravity’s chest
her heart broken, crushed, hopelessly bereft
Tears strewn by wrinkled lies never meant to be
blind at birth, forgotten, by a world that could see


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O God, The Rat Has A Phobia!

The rat tiptoed to the house, picks up a thread
While the soft spoken black cat is, still, in bed
Sleepy, but, she is to battle it, to win, for today
To gain her breath, in solitude, for another day 
 
At first, she will fetch water, from a sacred well
Passing through the silent field of fears, of hell
While the sympathetic morning moon watches 
And giving her consoles, with uplifting touches

Of hopes, to warm her shaken, but noble heart
From the cold of early morn, that torn her apart  
Before the fading moon could bid her goodbye
Her tiny feet has swollen red, like a chicken fry

The rat sadly waves her bye to the fading moon
She kisses gladly the first crow, with her broom
To sweep the scattered butts, of Marlboro Light
Before favored kitten come, and give her a fight

She uses her magic matches to light the sticks
Delicately set at the center of a three big bricks
Eggs and bacon, with riz Cantonese to prepare
The boiling silvery pot, patiently, waits her care 

While the family feasts, the rat runs to the room
To fix the beds’ pleats, and then, she will zoom
To clean the ruin of wars, on the two slab tables
Before, she finds herself drown, in little bubbles

Her paled skin got burned, from the blazing sun 
While the soft spoken black cat enjoying the fun
Of watching, the afternoon entertainments show
That the rat never sees, for she has list to follow 

But, before the day ends, the poor rat was bitten
By the soft spoken black cat, left.....right up to ten 
That made her soul cries, under the mango tree
Hides her tears, in the dark, no one will ever see

Only when the soft spoken black cat’s gone away
Thus, the rat feels happy, for she has time to play
In a world, where no creatures exist, but, just her
She now lives in illusion, in her own, fake laughter 

The rat has beaten many times the first cockcrow
For the soft spoken black cat, not to live in sorrow
Till she left her, nothing, but full of fear and wraths
Forever haunt her, even if, she takes dozen baths

O God, the rat has a phobia, ‘cos of this black cat
Won’t you ever pity seeing her sleeping in a mat?
Or when somebody, with shot, scratches her tail?
For I cannot stand, seeing how human beings fail 

 



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Night terror

Walking in the trees one day
I watched the weather change
A figure approached
White as a ghost, with a hand behind his back
Walking at angles odd to me
And humming a tune of sorrow
Trekking to a meadow of gloom
And daring me to follow

Looking up from his path, whispering
A lungful of wrath spent
"Mutter my name if you wish to stay"
"My name today, is Mister Grey"
Thinking on this turn of time
And the Hell that lay behind
"Mister Grey, what is the secret you guard so dear
in the palm behind your back?"
And I became seized
Seized by a site strange as could be
Mister Grey trembled and shook
But his eyes smiled at me

"Follow brother, swallow, see, and breathe this tale of agony"
And when I feel to stare beyond
The prison of stars, just to see
It stares back, with gavel and hammer
In a manner the same as he
If never a better time should come
To hold an impulse and control it
Spiral down the bounding stairs
To darkness at  its fullest
And fear to see inside myself, compelling me to follow

I forsake and answer for a knowing look
And traced his step
To where the outline stood
A house, a house was built
Standing tall and still
On pins and needles, against its will
Standing on the step inside
Mister Grey stopped to speak
Mister Grey Trembled and shook
But his eyes smiled at me
"This is my home, it is my own, I never loved the family"
"Building walls over walls, getting hotter still the smell surrounds me"
"Shallow graves engraved in clay underneath the boards"
"Fight the fires of the gore, hitting harder hold the bottle steady"
"I weild the blade of God, I made from my hand"
"I stared into the pit tonight, the best dream I ever had"

Thinking on this feeling
And looking to my hand
If the world is a prison
Then life is a sentence
Save for the power to let this go
And drop the will of the guilty
Mister Grey trembled and shook
But his eyes smiled at me

A memory, not of mine
Sent for me like a smack of spite
The face in the river asks for a kiss
And im obliged to deliver


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"Still Confounded"

Understanding that a period of anger and rage need to be had, 
to allow her to vent her emotions and then regain her sense of self and
reality.
But is a prolonged period needed?
Is such a permitted tenure being abused?

Not wanting to give in I remain in a sense of unbudging callousness.
Only such a state will empower me agains the abuse of her warranted
anger.
Why can we no longer be amorists?  
Why have we been conformed to have no dialogue between us?

No normality of such a relationship has existed for some time.
Not since this relationship has been cultivated, have we experienced
the socially acceptable union...or even that had among our peers and
elders.
Partly due to my lack of experiecne and damaged conscious, many of our
problems can be charged to me.

But why, when something better is desired, is there no coupled effort? 

Nothing sought after on her part?  
Perplexed, I seek to dig within myself to alter my ways.
But still she does not appreciate any change.
She continues to have her magnifying glass over my head, only examining
my shortcomings.
Perturbed...Confounded I remain.


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VOLCANOES AND TWISTERS

Once in a while, Mother Nature goes mad,
When this happens, all living things get sad,
For when she is angry, things start to get bad,
Volcanoes, and twisters, and earthquakes are glad.

Mother says to her children, "You're free to run wild,
For at this point, I refuse to be mild, 
These humans are ruining my beautiful gardens,
And I refuse to give them all pardons."

So we have weather that really gets tough,
Volcanoes and twisters really show their stuff,
And it's sad but the weather, men cannot control,
No matter how much he has made this his goal.

So poets and people all over this world,
Try to be nice or you may get twirled-then swirled,
For Mother Nature may decide to start fighting back,
So she can hold together and mend all those cracks.


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The Clouds

The clouds hover above
Watching over me like an angel
Protecting me from the sun's fire like breath

A reflection off the water
is like the suns rays
passing through a diamond
Flickering and reflecting
Giving off an illusion like a master magician

Illusions, Illusions, Illusions in the fog
Playing Hide and seek with my eyes
Twisting my brain in knots

What is it, I ask?
The clouds start to laugh at me
But laughter soon turns to sadness and I cry

A Teardrop touches my face
And a teardrop slides down my cheek
Finally reaching my chin
As a solitary teardrop falls
You can hear the echo of a thousand more


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They Took His Pulse

They Took His Pulse _ _ _ _
Now, they’re Looking for Us
Up and down the Street
Drive-By-Boys …. Packin’ Heat !

We Dissed’ A Gang-Sign
They Took… What was Mine
Left a Blood-Soaked Message
On A Pain Wracked-Package

… Is He Breathin’ ?
… or is He Leavin’ _ _ _ _
If He is… Then He Must _____
‘Cause They Took His Pulse

They Took His Pulse
Which left Us  Furious
Gotta’ Let em’ Know, We’ Serious
Do Somethin’ – Delirious

… We gon’ Take They Pulse !
Gon’ do something Perilous !
So – Infamous  !
… we took each other’s pulse _ _ _ _


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Frightful Friday

you and your friends are chilling
when you spotted this man through the crowd
he walks up to you
you're smitten
happy that you caught his eye
the both of you are dancing then he asks you do you want a drink
not thinking you quickly respond
yes, get me a coke please
as you're dancing and drinking
your heart beats faster, so you start to sweating
you can't think, it's hard to focus
your eyelids get heavy, but it's not from being sleepy
you've past out just to wake up to a man forcing himself upon you
you're trying so hard to push him off
but your body is numb
what's left to do but cry?
it hurts your heart to know that your virginity is being taken by a man you've just met
your body is so fragile, but he doesn't care
when he finished he got up and left you there
should you tell?
would they believe you?
your friend finds you in the room
and quickly calls 911
she's praying and wishing that you're okay
you'll never want to go out again
all because of that FRIGHTFUL NIGHT


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Negar

Angolan Shipyard
Portuguese Courtyard
Slaves
Indentured servants of
Black seed

Sadist sovereignty 
Dutch property
Animals
Herded into a treasure chest
Of disease

Shackled humanity
Shipwrecked Christianity
Excess 
Baptized on the bottom
Of the sea

Altered Destiny 
English colony 
1619
Stock on a manifest
Of greed

Work your land
Savage not man
Bartered
A pound of flesh for
A crown overseas

Sold by brethren
Held by heathens
Caimile
Your daddy was 
Born free


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Fear

 A horrible crime

It was a loss of innocence

I didn't have a choice

Nobody heard my voice

Faded memories of the night

Some thing's wrong I cant even fight.

I thought I was going to die,

so heavily drugged I couldn't even cry,

I heard myself scream for help,

but nothing came out of my mouth.

In and out of consciousness

fighting my body to stay awake.

The cold floor upon my bare back,

I wake to two men violating me.

I can't move

can't fight back.

I fall back into a deep blackout..

my mind is screaming

what is happening..

Two of them pushing and prodding

having their way.

I want to go home

please take me home

I try to cry out but

nothing will come.

Next on the bed I come to

a man inside of me,

he's saying something

I can't make out.

Take me home.

I want to wake up

wake up out of this nightmare.

Why did I get in the car?

Why did I trust her

when she said they were friends?

Next I feel nudging and pushing...

"Get the hell up, its time to go",

he says.

Throwing my clothing at me

hurrying me down the stairs

in the car he shows no shame

I black out once more..

River bend is all I can say..

Take me home please.

I awake the next morning

knowing

knowing I was violated.

I used to be so clean

now I'm violated, unclean and dirty.

And the guilt is killing me,

even though its not my fault

I feel as though it is.

They made me feel a shame of myself,

all I do is blame things on myself.

Everything is my fault,

Its all my fault.

The pain I feel,

The tears of sorrow,

The things they have done to me,

They violated me

Make me feel ashamed.

Bits and pieces cross my mind

Please...erase out of my memory!!

I don't want to remember the night.

It took one night,

one night of unforgettable violence

To shatter my soul into a billion million pieces

Before I'd ever realize

Before I'd ever understand just how cruel,

damn cruel this world could be

Lost a piece of my innocence

Helped my heart to see that

I wanted to die,

I wanted to cry,

I wanted to scream for help but no one heard me,

I feel dirty.

After that night of misery

Things could never be the same.

I will never be the same

the outgoing happy,

loving person I was..

I will never be the same

physically or mentally...

especially not emotionally.

All because of them..


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WHAT WE LOST...

An attack of this magnitude
was completely unforeseeable;
and who thought that an unguarded city
had to feel that sense of solitude...
through an urealistic exodus so undiscernible,
and later reclaim its struck territory!

What we lost...is not the superb Twin Towers: 
the pride of the wealthiest nation on earth,
towers that can be rebuilt in years;
it's those lives that enmity cut short!
And they tried to disorientate us,
and disrupt our ingenuous and lively living
by spreading unrest and choas
with absurd and infernal thinking!

This infamy is so ineffaceable
from the mind of the unfoolish,
fair and reasoning man with greater intellect...
that it becomes so inexplicable;
a shameful act not condoned by civilization,
confirmed by unsympathetic sentiments!

What we lost ...is truly irreplaceable
by every imaginable remedy:
its the worth, the comfort  and the unbroken joy, 
which dazzled in the NewYorkers' eyes...
making their days so livable! 
What we lost...is eternally
carved out into those shining stones:
bearing glorious names to withstand time itself1

 


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Marketplace Massacre

Flowers lie upon a grave, innocence dead in a foreign land
The peace shattered like ice when bombs burst in burning sand
Children taken in the prime of life, gone with just a passing glance
As planes fly overhead, circling their targets in a macabre dance
Bombs drop and explode, tearing through a market and a child
The mother drops to her knees, and the crowd becomes wild
As the child shudders, frozen with fear and anguish as he lies
His mother shouts for help, through broken sobs and cries
Cries heard in the hearts of millions, but disregarded by most
As thousands of miles away sits this war’s malevolent host
He speaks of happier times ahead, freedom is on the march
Tell it to the children, whose parents he killed, or is that too harsh?
A criminal speaks to the nation, of dire threats and genocide
Invoking the names of the dead to bring the living to his side
To take up arms against one’s fellow man, to commit atrocities in his name
And with thousands buried in simple graves, with him lies the blame			
As good men and women fall in his name for his bloody endeavor
People at home and around the world raise their voices and shout “Freedom! Forever!”


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Eliza Riddle's Boredom

Eliza Riddle brushed her hair in silence
long silver strands, sleepy, floating to the floor
Her horn rimmed glasses read the book 
next to her bed
without her
for boredom overtook her when
she thought she guessed the ending.
Eliza did her stretches before sleep
one...
    two...
        three...
in a long nightgown and silk slippers
with silly pom-poms on them
She methodically filled her sipping 
glass with tap water from the sink
and set it down beside her bed
The house settled in too.
Creaked as it did it's stretches
Wind blowing in from the open window
in her room;
the curtains just fluttering eyelashes
to the soul of outdoors.
Eliza bid the house the usual goodnight,
her friend in solitude for thirty five years
since Mr. Riddle passed on.
She crawled under the same down blanket
they had both shared,
curled up next to his still cold pillow
and teetered on the verge of sleep
with the last thought before dreams
of déjà vu - 


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Rhinestones That Sparkle

Night time is their day,
as they hurry and find,
someone to comfort,
then leave them behind.

Motels, and hotels,
and sometimes a car,
trying to survive this day,
some wish on a star.

Rhinestones that sparkle,
they stand on the street,
some are just children,
wanting to be free.

Can they go home,
why did they leave
too old for their years,
but not for their tears..












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Shame , Shame

Shame ,Shame, you raised a hand,
no, your victim does not understand.
Whatever in this world, gives you the right,
causing such pain, looking for a fight.
You are the one, with a problem, you hear,
not the one, you've filled with fear.
Prisons, and asylums,  hold many like you,
help or punishment, for the things you do.


There is no excuse for this.


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My Dream

I lost a shoe.
Don't know what to do.
A long way to go.
I am pretty slow.
People look and stare.
And say, how does he dare.
Walk with only one shoe?
A boy in the night.
With a shoe, out of sight?
What a plight.
Then I tried to run.
My legs froze, no fun.
Although hurtling along.
I was not getting on.
Being stuck to the ground.
I was trying to get away.
From who, I can't say.
Waking up in a sweat.
I washed my dream away.

Comments.
If you dreamed about shoes 
it is a sign of insecurity.
Running and not moving means
 that you are dissatisfied and not
 getting anywhere.
Please send me your dreams.


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Freedom's Price

What price is freedom? 
Does anyone truly know? 
Can it be tallied up?
Brought out for show 

How is freedom measured? 
By its losses or its gain? 
Do we value it more than life? 
So we suffer through the insane 

Do we too easily accept 
That it's the way it has to be? 
Any sacrifice not too much 
In the quest to remain free 

Way easier to accept I'm sure 
If your not the one fighting the cause 
If you were I think it really would 
Give you every reason to pause

To see caskets arriving home 
We know the price too high 
In the name of so called freedom 
Far too many will have to die 

For loved ones left behind 
No freedom will ever be gained
For they will be bound and tied 
To live forever in their pain 

The freedom flag may fly 
But who will be left to see? 
Dead men don't have eyes 
Their souls the only thing free 

We think we have evolved 
From the brutality of the past 
Turn on the news each day 
The die has already been cast

What kind of world we do live in 
Were peace can't be achieved by words 
Where brawn replaces brains in men 
And freedom is gained through swords

What is freedom truly? 
Does anyone really know?
If it means the right to choose 
Then I'm sure I would say no 

I'd say no to violence 
Every single day
We have to just figure it out
There has to be a better way

A way to keep our loved ones safe 
Ways to help those in need 
There simply has to be an answer 
To allow us to eventually succeed

For all the families that have suffered 
We have to make sure there are no more 
In man's journey for peace and freedom 
We need to learn to shut the door on war!



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Killing Bobby

In their home they make me ashame
they're not aware of my pain
I will run,there's much to gain
I don't look back & my spirit sings
    
In my mind my legs are wings
freeing me to fly to my dreams
my heart is strong and pushes me on
my fear is stronger & clips my wings 
    
Again I walk,my steps are slow
my heart is heavey,my head hangs low
return to their home I know I must
    
As soon as I'm in the sermons begin
she cannot see she's hurting me 
can't they see I'm gonna crack
they won't let up,I can't fight back
I pray for strength but I am told 
it well be hell I will go
    
I have a friend, she sends for me
on a bus I travel there
I run to her and spread my wings 
far to the north I live with her
    
We love to dance,the music loud
I will try to be proud 
away from them I will stand
begin to love who I am
    
By the phone she does the same
hurting me with words of gloom
she penns her poison from the book
preaching of my future doom
  
I shed my tears not my pain
she only sees the ugly me 
She cannot see,till it's late
the man I dream I need to be
    
They kept their hold and wouldn't let go
I was wrong to have told
now I know I'll never be free
my soul is dark and turing cold
I know I'm weak but I'm not a freak

The darkess is coming
bringing me peace
at last I find what I seek


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Shadows

Shadows of new cast on your wall,
echoes of pleasure sound down the hall.
Are you awake, or is it a dream? 
You’re afraid to consume 
all that you've seen.
Completely in shock; what a surprise!,
she continues to smile
as tears fall from your eyes.
The hints were so clear, you re-play them in your mind,
the love was never there, that you thought you would find.
You thought you were two, together as one,
but 2,3,4 she thinks are more fun.
Shadows of pain you're sick of the lies,
but she's not concerned...
just lost in Jan's thighs.


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I Remember

I remember when I was born.
The memories have not gone.
He is like a girl, not a man.
Made to feel, I cost a lot.
Better off without this Tot.

I remember.not enough to eat.
From the table, hungry go.
Stealing wind  falls, from the snow.
Hiding under the table, to escape.
Cups and plates, they throw.
Shouting and screaming,  
Here they go
I hear it still.

I remember my school days.
Standing face to wall.
Getting the cane, for nothing at all.
When time to go home, the bullies I see.
The gang is waiting for me.

I remember the black eye.
Walked into a lamp post, I did lie.
Torn cloths, They are not new, ploy.
Go to your room, you naughty boy.

I  remember late at night,
Hearing a noise that made me fright.
Under the blanket I froze.
Who's there nobody knows.
Running in my mind.
Not moving and blind.

I remember running with all my might,
To escape a fight.
Survival lay in flight
Crying and screaming.
God help me.












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Deafening Blinders

The pope said  Mohammed said 
spread Islam by the sword.
That’s not a very nice thing to say
Lets burn down some churches and kill a nun.
Oh my but aint religion fun
I’m so glad I got a gun
The pope must apologize
Now that  sounds sensible
Would you like fries with that?
Simon says jump for joy
Satan just smiles knowingly
And the patient druids wait
For a second world to explode
What will an octave be 
On the next third planet
From the sun
Or will the music die
To join all the other stars
Let’s have a blast
It could not last
That’s life
So woe
Begone


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Flight 112

the sun's risen from the east,
my eyes are filled with sleep
as I crawl out from the bed
clumsily with a heavy head,
I'm leaving on Flight 112.

the folks gather by the door,
my suitcase is on the floor,
I have got to pack my things,
there is no time left to waste,
I'm leaving on Flight 112.

and now it is eleven fifty five,
the time has finally arrived,
a voice on the mike's calling,
"everybody, please check in,
your Flight 112 is waiting."

the engines are all starting,
I am having a shaky feeling,
the plane is slowly moving,
I hear a  young lady saying, 
"welcome aboard Flight 112."

goodbye to the home I love,
goodbye to all that's familiar,
the sweet girl I leave behind,
here I come, city of strangers,
I'm coming on Flight 112.


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Wounded soul

The news of tomorrow came today yet somehow i got lost along the way .
So i checked again and found my soul bleeding profainly from a gapeing hole.
Knowing  that this would be the end i tried to patch the hole by saveing a friend.
She opened the wound even deeper i never should have tried to keep her.
Resigned to my fate knowing it was much to late i let her go .
The bleeding stoped but the hole is still there i doubt that she even cares.


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Sweet Pea

Please hold my hand right now
Help me
I'm scared, please show me how
To fight this
I'll wait for you to understand
And I'm being as patient as I can
If you come back sweet pea
I'll know just what to say
I promise I won't turn away
Every night wanting to feel your body heat
On your bed through the sheet
I've thought of every pretty little thing to whisper in your ear
Recalling the way I felt when you first touched me there
I pray we'll apprecaite each other more
By making it through
Will you be the way that I remember you?
Holding you to my chest
My one desire is to please you
You know you're not like the rest
After I smile I have to cry
Becasue you're not there to see me look beautiful
When I laugh I want your eyes upon my face
And I want your hand where my hands trace
We'd both be happy then
Loving every breath of you
Can't believe I let you slip away
Was there anything I could say?
I think I'm falling apart
You're what I think of when I fall asleep 
And wake up
Did you think of the rest of our lives too?
Like you said we'd love each other after one year
I'll kiss you the way you want
We'll have a big yellow house
I'll be whatever you need
In that picture perfect place
If you come back sweet pea
I'll know what to say
I promise I won't turn away
Alone in a summer night
I want to know you again
You make me think everything I do is right 


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Face the Facts

face the facts
he is not coming back
the slamming of the door
should tell you more
than his words ever do
this should be a clue
he doesn't love you
the two of you are through

face the facts
remember how he acts
when you ask him to
say I love you
he turns away
what can I say
It is over, done
the life you have begun

face the facts
get on the right track
he has someone new
that should tell you
he treated you so bad
he was all you had
let go and cry
he didn't even try

face the facts
no, don't help him pack
let him do it alone
be glad when he's gone
love breaks hearts
when it comes apart
time to start anew
hon, that's all you can do 



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Wreck On The Highway

 

   
The television was going but my mind was not in tune.
   Did you ever have that feeling something was going to happen and you felt it 
would be soon?
Although I didn’t know what would happen, somehow I knew it would be today.
   Something in the back of my mind told me I really needed to pray.
Well Lord I started praying, I prayed with all my might.
    I prayed so hard my shirt was wet, I must have been a sight.
But still the feeling just wouldn’t turn loose so I prayed a little more.
   And then I heard the noise of someone at my door.
In walked my son and his little man, oh what a sight to see.
   He looked so pale a standing there, then he grabbed hold of me.
He said daddy I just saw something that made my blood run cold.
    This 18 wheeler and this couple who looked to be quite old.
He said dad this old couple cut me off an ran me in the ditch.
   Dad he said it would have been me had this old couple hadn’t made the switch.
This 18 wheeler out of nowhere completely wiped them out.
   Dad that would have been us, there is just not any doubt.
It’s like they sacrificed themselves for us, I don’t know what else to say.
   They said the driver of the truck, he would probably be okay.
They said the old couple was coming from chemo, and their life was nearly spent.
   But to me they were angels from heaven, that our Savior sent.
Thank You Father!

This is just a poem but our Lord and Savior does intervene on our behalves many times
throughout our life times and we need to thank Him for all those unseen times!


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The Old Shanghai

the old Shanghai,
that most devoted friend
doing a duty so faithfully, crowing,
rousing the farmer at break of dawn;

the proud Shanghai,
arrogantly strutting off, chest out,
white plumes advertising his place
among feathered brethrens in the farm;

the lusty Shanghai,
flirting with a harem of adoring hens 
if not fighting a rooster over some slight,
imagined or otherwise, though actually
just attracting attention from other hens;

the loyal Shanghai,
keeping his farmer-friend company
through many years of rain or shine,
never demanding anything in return
just his daily feeds, a friend indeed;

late waking up one morning the farmer,
when the sun is bright high up in the sky;
damn that Shanghai not to rouse him!
rubbing his eyes, rushing to the barn
to scold the lazy fowl forgetting his job;

tears flowing down the farmer's face,
eyes on a form prone on the ground;
leaving him without saying goodbye,
the Shanghai has died in the night;

no more the old, faithful Shanghai
for him greeting a brand-new morn
when the tired world again awakens 
in bold renewal, new hope bringing;

I miss that old Shanghai of mine. 


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Somewhere Around Five

    
       It will just be another normal day I thought as I closed my eyes. 
I realized I was oh so wrong as I abruptly awoke to my Grams piercing cries. 
Could her Problem Change My day too? 
Wow! Let's just say I didnt have a clue.
   Eager to find out what was wrong I stumbled out of bed. 
So many horrible scenarios ran through my frantic head. 
I hoped my Gram wasn't in any severe pain. All of my emotions were becoming 
too hard to restrain.
   I finally reached my Gram then remembered a loud boom.
She just looked at me and pointed into my dads room. 
I now knew my Grandmother was okay,
but what about my dad? 
From this point on my day got really bad.
   I walked into his room finding something I never wanted to see. 
I remember thinking "How can this be?".
I found out my father was no longer willingly alive. 
The coroner said he shot himself somewhere around five.


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IN A POPPY FIELD

In a poppy field.... 
Before the Great War 
Children danced and played... 
In bright colours.... 
That I saw 

The mud churned.... 
Men ,dead 
Men, dying 
Men, bleeding and raw 
Men, crying 
Men, aimlessly led 
Guns, firing, 
in the bright colours that I saw 

Vast regiments.... 
Disappearing in the light.... 
Gone forever.... 
It made no sense 
The wasted men.... 
Gone in to the night 

In a poppy field.... 
After the Great War 
No one danced.... 
No one came.... 
Men, 
With no name 
Sealed.... 
In a trench.... 
In France 

Such despair.... 
In a field of such colour 
I felt it there.... 

The War.... 
To end all wars.... 
In a poppy field 
Where children played 
Bright colours..... 
In a poppy field 
There lay.... 
The hearts of men 


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Innocence Cries

As I read stories with words so sad,
I realize life, for some is so bad.
A world of rejection is known by some,
from people they love, and Oh, how wrong.
All across this planet, they hurt, and cry,
why are they victims, please tell me why.
Little ones searching for slumbers peace,
trying to cope, staying out of reach.
Endless days, that turn into night,
without a parents arms, to hold them so tight.
Years pass by, and some escape,
and a new life for them self, they manage to make..
Please Dear Jesus, 
stay close by their side,
for it is not their fault, 
their innocent eyes cry.


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Bring Them Home

I can still see his face in the early light,
as he boarded his plane for that fatal flight.

Kisses being thrown from a window so far,
taking him from me, back to that war.

On the drive home, I thought to myself,
of his boyhood days, and then I wept.

I had him back for  just a few short weeks,
never expecting a heart full of grief.

Somebody do something, get them out of there,
I'm beginning to think, no one cares.

Imagine for a moment,  just take a little time,
your loved one fighting in a country so blind.

Barbaric actions from the enemy within,
friend fighting friend , and next of kin.

I think it is time to bring them home,
"we can't change others, that's their home."



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HER DAY

In her day she dazzled the boys
and made many a girl jealous.
Fantasy was always reality
and love was the most important thing of all.
The sun always shone so bright
and the moon glowed all thru the nights.
Today she speaks with no reply given.
Her days are long and lonely,
and her nights are cold and sometimes wet
from an uncontrollable bladder 
that has caused her such grief for so long.
Hands that do not open up
and legs that will not staighten out.
Unable to reach for cover during a cold night
and unable to walk to the bathroom to relieve herself
and save the embarrassment of a wet bed.
Unable to push herself in her wheelchair
and not capable of getting food or water when she would like.
A mouth that does not move
and words that will not come out.
Her days do pass with many who walk by with no nod of
recognition or a thoughtful word to say.
One wish left for her to help her get by is the wish of death to
come soon and the golden gates to open up
and welcome her.


Dedicated to all who are unable to care for themselves.


Written by:
Misty D. Burress


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To End What it Began

Once upon a time in a magical land
There was a girl and fairies danced in her hands. 
Her hair was deep black and her face was pale blue, 
And cast an abyss of sorrow no one once knew.
Eyes greener than the trees in the night, 
Shown vacantly in the store bought lights.
She watched her friends falter.
She felt her world collapse.
She let the blood run down her face, 
Staining her cheeks in a rapid pace.
Inception is where it ended.
Hate is where it started.
In the middle love struggled to end what it began


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REMINISCING YOUTH

Besides the oceon's kingdom 
lies a splendid land where the heart 
is made happy to its core,
and the soul finds its own freedom
to venture itself...despite of fright:
like a volture that has a need to soar!

There I spent the indelible days 
of that unhappy youth and tasted,
with much bitterness and delusion,
the first bites of  reality 
that started up a controversy...
youth is meant to be lived up
to one's fancy and be entirely free
of obstacles,worries and sadness;
mine was just the contrary...
a boy obeying the father's strict rules:
harsh rules demanding obedience,
never bending to show affection!

Sad to say that my mother's brave heart,
sheltering me from his insensibility,
split up it up between the two:
deciding,with thoughtfulness,
 which one should own it completely;
and as torn apart as she was...
she devoted her entire life to me...to imbue
my child's thoughts and recall them
whenever I was susceptible to boredom!   
Now, as years wrinkle my skin and show my age,
I'm reminiscing the unsurpassable strenght
and love she demonstrated in her courage!

Besides this continent's bounderies...
where fearless men challenge its tides, 
friendly faces loom like shadows
seeking that friend who never spoke of inner feelings
and hid the an astounishing secret from them;
and if they think, I have forgotten their kindness...
when I was scared and needed comforting words:
 no,I have never stopped thinking of them!

Throughout  my journey,the only face
I recognized was that of somebody
folowing my footsteps...not to make me trample,
to spare me the agony of mistakes;
its shadow could not be seen...
was there a misleading perception so imaginable?
Through joy,hardship and dire...
I moved forward with one thought in mind:
not to sway my attention and lose my grip
on reality...like the captain of a lost ship!
 


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In Harms Way

Their mission at hand , can't be defined,
sent far away leaving loved ones behind.

Streets patrolled every minute of the day,
a land of bloodshed, a society in disarray.

Killed or wounded the reports come in,
as more are recruited, and trained to defend.

Tears keep falling every minute of the day,
as families bow their heads to pray.

A wise woman I'm not, but who is these days,
when they send more, and more in the middle of harms way.

God bless our soldiers, and bring them home,
this war we are in, has been going on too long.


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We Need Help

How careless they play their game,
do I have to name , names?

I'll do this, and I'll do that,
but my bank account needs to be fat.

Constantly they fight for votes, hey, 
they really know the ropes.

Don't blame me, it's not my fault,
and another one just got caught.

Sneaky, and slick, where do they all stand,
I believe we just got slammed.

Trust, respect, honor, what do these words mean?

They mean a war in a far away land,
They mean soldiers, that don't have a voice,
They mean graves being dug everyday,
They mean hospitals full of wounded,
They mean promises not being kept,
They mean we as a country, really need help.


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Run, Run

Each living being, has a choice to make,
stay in a situation, or run, for Heavens sake.
A well trod path can help you escape,
traveled by many, out running the grave.
Evil can dwell in any place at all,
you may not recognize it, until you fall.
Footprints heading out, not any going back,
you must have courage, the one thing some lack.
Believe in yourself, and trust in the Lord,
you are the reason, He died for.
Ever since time first began,
some try to dominate, and force your hand.
They are the enemy, so open your eyes,
run, run, for this is your life.

Abuse is so widespread.


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THEY DESTROYING YOUR CREATIONS

They are destroying your creations,
the geen fields are burning
and blazes rise high;
the blackened town
has turned into ashes...
a devastated gost town
where once life
thrived with foot-steps 
and engines running!

They are destroying your creations,
barren vallies, mountains and lands 
where birds found their home so thrilling,
but forced to flee within minutes;
the scary arsonists also fled,
not to get cought or get burned
while scurring and panting! 
Weeping hearts and saddened faces
are overwhelmed by devastation...
who can understand their frustration?

They are destroying your creations
with torches and evil minds;
beauty is something they detest,
the smell of burnt makes them powerful;
how can they destroy the wilderness
that gives them life without chargiing a dime?
How can they stand back 
and watch this happening
while others are suffering?
If they are the devils' accomplices 
in this horrendous spectacle,
they will surely pay fully for their harm!


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THE SILENT WEEPER

Minute by minute,I saw my preciuos
existence slip away with the speed
of a stupendous shooting star across
a promising life...yet so unfulfilled and hollow;
wasn't my birthright relinquished
to an undeserved punishment and sorrow?

Why wouldn't anyone be resilient and
alleviate my agony and atrocious pain...
to confront a stark and unfair fate?
I can remember the unjustified hurt
clinging to many unacceptable exscuses;
and weren't there spendid dreams,
flourishing amid lonely and uncertain days,
wanting to ascape and become real?

Years by years misfortunes made me
give up all the incredible joys,of a naive boy,
that I longed for desperately;
I straddled to neither please life nor me,
to see reality wrapped up in mystery
constraining my neutral pesonality...

Breath by breath life allowed me
to live by its harsh rules...to teach me
unlearned lessons and I paid the highest
prize of all; and was it really worth
putting my trust in that confident voice,
and neglect the purpose of my strides?

Looking back,with regret,
on a wasted childhood that made me lame
by a blunt destiny;
languish and lament
impoverished my sentiment:
chocking me with their final,implicit word!

I decided to assume 
the role of dreamer without dreams,
to take on the appearance of winner:
relying on vague assumptions
that turned me into the silent weeper,
who watched its thin shadow loom...


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Homecoming

My casket is draped in Red, White, and Blue,
I served my country, because I had a job to do.

The ride is long as I leave this place, and
sadness is seen on every face.

I served my country for that is what I chose,
and if peace comes from this, only God knows.

As I arrive in the deep of night, back to my country
away from the fight; tears of sadness my family cries.

I hear a trumpet, someone is playing for me;
I am home now, my land of the free.


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A Letter From Meth

(A letter from Meth, 
You don't know me, only what I can do,
I am the devil, I am living with you.
I guide your children to play with fire,
you can tell when I'm needed, that helpless
desire.
I am not pretty, and I'll destroy their health, and
don't think for a minute, I care about those
tears you wept.
I can't get enough of sharing myself,
even for free, then they'll need me.
I know you stay up, and wait for them at night,
I'll never leave, without giving you a fight.
Families don't mean a thing to me,
hooked is all I care about, you'll see..
Running in flocks they all do the same,
calling me daily, Meth is my name.
Weight falling off, that hollow stare,
don't really care about what they wear.
News is on the street, I heard today,
a grave is being dug for someones baby to lay.
I mean business, don't mess with me,
I am out for money, and I am greedy.
Remember I warned you, I told you all about me,
now it's your turn, open your eyes, and see.


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Untitled #7 / The child

As the child rolled through a field of flowers
he spotted a butterfly flittering towards the sky
and thought he might grab the thing, sprout wings
and let the beauty carry him to heaven
he jumped and stretched out his little arms
but the insect had floated out of reach
and with a thud he fell back to the soil,
sobbing to the sun. 
But he had to try.


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Deaths Kiss

Last night I dreamed a wonderful fantasy,
We were together for all the world to see,
We were in a field of white roses and snapdragons,
You were dressed in black from head to toe with a white dragon,
On your back I too was in a black dress and black lace,
Then a slow smile spread across your face.
You kissed me with black lips,
Someone said it was deaths kiss,
The kiss broke and you began to laugh,
Then you took my hand and lead me down a darkened path,
I saw Alaucard and he smiled at me,
As though he knew and could see,
Right through me to my pounding heart,
You said from me you would never part.
We kissed again and this time was different,
It was if this kiss had sent,
A coldness right into my soul,
Then you whispered you would never let go.
Your hand was cold as was your touch,
No one had ever affected me this much,
Then I woke up with a fright,
It had been a horrible night,
I went to the bathroom and what did I see,
The black deaths kiss you had given me.


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She Knows

Savage she cried, as he grabbed her arm,
frightened for the first time,  realizing the harm.
Love now shadowed, by what is the truth,
he tries to comfort, but what is the use.
She now knows, that devil he hides,
today was the first day, she saw the other side.
The biggest step, she will ever make,
the one today, she knows, she must take.


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PLACES THAT STILL TELL A STORY

Massive castles laying in ruins
on barren,steep hills
where fierce battles were fought,
and the dwellers were fraught
as the armies began to advance; 
those are the places
that still tell a story when stillness 
is able to take us back... 

Meadows swarmed by fragrant daisies,
extending themselves to infinity
were the intimate and secretive spots
of the prince and his lovely princess;
a tranquil place where the young poet's hand
wrote those passionate lyrics incessantly
on parchment to perserve his thoughts
in places that still tell a story...

Narrow streets paved with stones
overlooked by flowery verandas
where lovers whispered their secrets
to the stimulant and silent moon;
words never stifled by unpleasant noises,
the perfect  place to emanete 
their dream,in penumbra,to be gone soon...
without the perceptual illumination so complete:
to remind us of plain people indulging in sensuality
in places that still tell a story....

Celestine sea bringing home weary ships
that discharge the agile bodies of sailors
welcomed by an anxious crowd
at the illuminated and breezy dock;
sailors who rode the tempestous waves 
sometimes fearing for their lives in turbulent time,
fusing together to confront the outcome courageously
in places that still tell a story...

Verdant hills and mountains
hiding remanents of ancient temples,
decaying columns without a roof
emitting an indignant mood: 
a nostalgia for their glorious past...
still in the delusion of thier grandeur;
who can still hear the hymns sung gleefully
in places that still tell a story?




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Zero-Sum

“This place stinks, let’s get out of here,
  let’s paint the town and have some fun.”
“Give me a sec, let me grab my books,”
  I would reply and hurriedly we would run. 

Cutting classes in our suburban school,
we'd dash off to the nearest watering hole,
then drink like tomorrow would never come, 
stumbling out at midnight when we were done.

Wasting summer days on drinks and songs,
flirting with pretty waitresses all night long;
rather predictable but that was our routine,
we would get our fill, it was our usual scene.

Bosom buddies and so it seemed but that was then.

Built our careers to meet both our family’s needs
till the pressure to succeed was a knot in your head.
Though I’d often prod you to take things in stride,
your impatience was just impossible to hide.

When I made it quite big and became wealthy 
you fumed ‘The damn bastard is just plain lucky.’
When I built a mansion and acquired properties,
you felt left out and thought I was greedy.

You looked at your failures vis-a-vis my success,
wondering why you didn’t have more but less.
Yours was a friendship built on shifting sands,
easily dismissed by a mere wave of your hand. 

In our carefree days on board the same boat,
you know, it did not take much effort to float.
Yet years later when I started to get ahead
’twas when Mr. Hyde reared his ugly head.

So, old buddy, here is a toast and a cheer
for all the years we spent drinking our beer.
No need to feel sentimental counting the cost
nor feel regrets for what we may have lost.
For how could we lose what wasn’t there at all,
it was just make-believe, that’s all.
 


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Just a Fling

It started off as just a fling 
Nothing serious a simple thing 
Then my love for her grew deep 
It became hard for me to sleep 
People said we were too young 
Though we were she was the one 
Even still with feelings strong 
I was forced to do her wrong 
Cause I was just a scared young boy 
I played with her like a toy 
Then one day first period came 
I heard that girl shout my name 
I looked at her and walked away 
Not knowing her changes every day 
From the secrets that she had 
I learned that I would be a dad 
My time with her I did deny 
Now I wish I didn't lie 
She looked at me with such disgust 
In my words she once did trust 
How could I put her through such pain 
So I could be arrogant and vain 
Now the day is drawing near 
Would she still love me was my fear 
Or was my timing way too late 
To regain her trust and change our fate 
When I approached with teary eyes 
Her love for me she did not deny 
She told me that she loved my so 
And she never wanted me to go
She formed me to a whole new man
One who could love and understand
So with the largest stomach at graduation
I was her rock her foundation
And as those 9 months they quickly passed
I thought our love would forever last
One night she called and I awoke
When she yelled "MY WATER BROKE"
Just as fast as my happiness came
All my sunshine turned to rain
The doctors made me leave the room
At once there were screams that made my ears boom
I tried to suck it up and hold in my pride
But when I said I was okay it was all a lie
The doctor came out all teary eyed
"the girl u loved, she instantly died"
"but your baby sir she's healthy and safe
6 pounds 9 ounces that is her weight"
When I looked at you all I could do was smile
My pain left me for a little while
Now in you your mother she lives
In the sparks in your eyes and the warmth in your kiss
And though it started off as just a fling
To me your mother was everything


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An Execution

     
I had an uncle that died in the electric chair,
   He deemed his punishment was just and quite fair. 
One mistake is all it takes to ruin your life,
   He might still be alive now but he used his knife.
A young man who was down on his luck, 
   Dove deep into the bottle his life had gone amuck.
He had lost his job then his wife followed suit,
   She wasn’t real understanding when it came to not having very much loot.
He tried his best to win her back,
    But she flat out told him it was money he lacked.
He pleaded and he begged but she laughed in his face,
    He’d lost all self respect he felt like he had become a total disgrace.
He turned to the drink and he even did drugs,
    Started hanging out with nothing but thugs.
Started out stealing small just to stay high,
    His family begged him to quit but he was too far gone to even try.
He tied in with the devil, he thought to be his only friend,
    Till that one night it happened as the devil lead him to his end.
He was just going to rob her till she started screaming and crying they both were 
overcome with fear
    Scared he pulled his knife to silence her this friend he’d known through the 
years.
As he left her dying on the floor in a most awful gruesome sight,
    He ran but he couldn’t escape what he’d become or the out come of that night.
They caught him without incident and he confessed to his crime,
    He said I’m sorry for what I’ve done but that’s not good enough this time.
The jury all found him guilty of murder in the first degree,
    As the judge said Lord have mercy on your soul for I issue you the death 
penalty.
As he waited his time he made peace with the Lord,
    As the day grew closer that had to have been hard.
Well it’s over and done and he paid his dues,
    But I loved that old guy and sometimes it gives me the blues.
What he did was wrong I’ll be the first to agree’
    But the side I knew the jury never got to see.


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I Thought You Cared

You said you loved me
That you cared about me
But it was all a lie
You never loved me
And you never really cared
All you wanted was to take advantage of my innocence
I trusted you
I thought you had changed your ways
That’s why I went for a walk with you
And that's why I let him leave
You started to kiss me
I was ok with that
You slid your cold hand into my pants
I told you to stop
You didn’t listen to me
I jumped back with fear in my eyes
You pulled me close to your warm body
The next thing I know I’m on the cold, damp ground 
The sent of fresh cut grass all around me
Feeling your body on top of mine
I weekly whisper for you to stop
Once more you didn’t listen to me
Never really thinking 
Of how I would feel inside  


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Gone, As With the Wind

It was dark and cold as he wandered the streets of Chicago
Strangers were the only people he saw, he had no friends
Searching nightly, he had never found her, the one he sought
He needed to find her, for without her, his destiny ends

Strangers were the only people he saw, he had no friends
He was new to the city, but felt welcomed, when their eyes met
Two in a crowd, for a moment, they shared a glance
A face of an angel, truly a face he would never forget

Searching nightly, he had never found her, the one he sought
For she wandered in to the crowd and was lost then from view
He ran, he stopped, he started again, searching everywhere
Until, as the sun had gone down, his spirit did, too

He needed to find her, for without her, his destiny ends
He feels in his heart, that the two of them were destined to be
Alas, he could not find her, in this big cold dark windy place
But he would never stop trying, else his heart shan’t be free


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My Thoughts

Should I cry because life is so hard for me.
Or should I  carry a smile and just oversee.
All my life I did not know it would be
An existence of pain for me to release.
Know I am here and you are there
Away from each other for the past year.
Wanting to be a family with wealth and joy.
Raising together a lil' girl and a lil' boy.
I have opened my eyes to see in front of my face.
A life of failure and disgrace.


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Concealed Behind The Veil

Suppressed behind this afflicted excuse of a cover up
A hurting young lady lies
Afraid to show her face to the eyes, 
eyes of the man who hurt her
And repeatedly told her she would never be nothing in life 
As her preceded to rape her

Stripping her of her dignity, as she was losing all her sanity
Her hurt filled screams of fear
Followed and accompanied with the streams
Of way more than just one tear
never seemed to move this man
Who’s breath reeked of bud light beer

Who’s eyes tattled about the weed he had smoked just hours before
Which was slowly tearing down his body
As he compressed himself on top of her
Taking her precious virginity, 
Innocence she would never get back
Just so he could go and tell his homeboys “Oh I hit that”

Now this young lady feels alone 
Afraid to open up to another 
Another victim who has the same story 
Who could help her through
And possibly get her in church to kneel by the alter

Kneel and ask God to give her a forgiving heart 
So one day she’ll be able to forgive this 
sad specimen of a man
A man who has her alone and scared
Afraid to show her face, because of what these 
Judgmental people may think

Not knowing the truth, The truth that lies behind
Behind her undried teary eyes
The truth she decided to cover up, 
after being raped and feeling unclean
Hoping it will help forget the mean and ungodly things
This sorry excuse of a man did to her

She never played the fool
Just went by the rules 
Being a player in this over-rated game of life
And yet she is a prisoner of words unsaid
Left searching for peace inside herself
Dealing with the feelings and emotions deserted and trapped in her mind

Her heart full of madness and slowly taking over her mind
When she thinks to speak, She stops and remain silent
Silenced by the thought of him holding her down
With her body exposed
Now left trying to leave the was
To start with the right now

But is still left imposed
With looking for someone
anyone 
To blame.