Say not to me,
that it will not matter a hundred years from now,
that I was here.
For surely I have touched one life in a positive way,
perhaps in daily prayer
I've called your name one day.
Having no profound accomplishments or delusions of fame,
and leaving no progeny
to perpetuate my name,
still, it will matter that I was here.
For I have quietly endeavored to sow, and I have watered.
I love and am loved--should one desire more?
Life is good and hopefully God is pleased.
The tracks I'll leave, it's true,
will not be so ingrained as to stand harsh winds of time
and they shall fade as the evening sun,
leaving somewhere, only a name and date chiseled in granite.
Perhaps, if only in thought,
one pausing o'er me should question, who was this man?
Let God simply whisper, that I am His.
sometimes i talk to myself,
my mind is racing,
i dont know what to do...
so hard to explain.
depression isn't a stage
or a faze some kids go through
it shatters you...
i saw it all.
she cried silent in her bed,
blood stains covered her favorite jeans,
her every shirt,
long sleeve ofcourse...
she suffered through it all with few people to call friend
and more to call enemy
even more to say where quite dissappointed....
her first name in school,
not started by a bully
or a mean rival,
but by her sister,
and it echoed through her soul,
repeating in her mind... over and over again,
like the ripples of still water
when a pebble is dropped
flash frozen in time
over and over again...
It was the first name they gave her,
millions where created over the years,
some repeating again, just as the first had..
gothic they called her,
emo, fat, ugly....worse things.
but in her mind, things where worse.
everything was repeating,
over and over again,
finally she believed it.
she asked for help, from everyone
tried to explain to parents she wasnt well,
got called a psycho for asking to see a theripist,
not from a teacher,
not from a class mate,
but from her own father, who wouldn't, couldn't,
believe there could possibly be a thing wrong....
finally, crying, she confessed her bloody secret to a teacher.
rather then giving her time,
she is sent back to class crying her eyes out, as if she wherent going through enough...
she is sent to the principals office a few minutes later, after breaking down in class...
the princlipal says she needs help,
sends her and her dad for a risk evaluation,
her dads crying as she shows him her cuts...
they walk into a hospital room,
it smells of chemicals and hand sanitizer,
the lady at the desk gives her a smile.
then she goes into a room with a lady,
her cheeks are sunken in and shes wearing way too much makeup,
the girl is gaging on her perfume,
and she looks really intimidating....
her dark brown hair looks dead and flat
even though its a bit wavy,
and she wears somewhat of a mocking frown.
asks her all these questions,
is mommy beating her?
is daddy raping her?
is she doing drugs?
is anyone beating her?
did anyone molest her?
oxcarbezapine, trazadone, citalipran, clinazapam, colonipan,
valium, lithium, more.......
and thats what they gave her,
some numbed the pain
some brought it out
tearing through her organs,
she became an addict by the time she was fourteen....
over dose after over dose
some for pleasure
some for pain,
gashes on her legs getting deeper,
this time she didnt tell a soul,
not even those she had come to call friends....
wakeup she screamed in her head over and over again
as she dropped weight like it was nothing....
you cant controll it she argued as things became worse.
at age fourteen she attempted suicide,
she didnt quite succeed.
the medication took away her aappitite....
she liked it
she hated her body
felt out of controll
found a new way to cope
as she shoved tooth brush after toothbrush down her throat
to keep her body from nuitrients...
as she whent weeks and weeks spitting food into napkins and making excuses
I ate at my friends house....
spoken as a whisper
heard like a sentance
echoing in her mind over and over again,
along with that word, all the words,
ugy, anoying, stupid, fake, worthless, nothing...
one bite she would say
rocking back and forth
craving nothing but food
her body racked with hunger pain
one bite and there she was again
over and over and over again
back to a toothbrush
this time she sees blood
she saw her ribs
she saw her bones,
it wasnt good enough,
she almost died, again....
choking on this deep dissappointment in herself,
gaging on everything they where pushing down her throat,
their words, and their insults, their criticism.... their drugs
all shoved down her throat like candy
and just as she was was trained to do she swallowed despite the bad taste
or the hurt
or the fact that at the rate she was going she would be dead soon...
and you know why?
because daddy yelled
and couldnt accept what was happening
not because he wanted to hurt her
but because it hurt him,
and she let him believe,
because she could take the hurt if it meant he didnt have too.
because mommy didnt want to sit in her room all day
practically having us raise ourselves,
she didnt mean to take anger, or frustration or hurt out on her daughter
she suffered everyday in her solitary confinement,
and from a young age she accepted her bedroom was the cage
her mother had created for herself.
because sister didnt want to effect her the way she did
she was just frustrated
fed up with the way things where
scared, she needed someone to take her cruelty
and to help heal her pain...
because people in school
who where so cruel
had to have learned from somewhere
and she wasnt going to play into their games,
and they knew she was an easy target
because she would never attack someone so weak
and she accepted her suffering was a sacrafice
to help all these people....
to help her dad,
every person who was beaten abused or hurt
and felt so weak at home they wanted to feel strong in the one safe place they had.
because depite the fact she had died inside,
and almost passed away on the out,
it was a saccrafice she was willing to make
so that no one else would have to feel that kind of pain,
and they all inflicted it and broke her down'untill there was nothing left but a shell
of somthing that could have been
and never had the chance
because she would take it and wouldnt strike back,
because sometimes "just taking it"
isnt so much about the weakness not to do anything
but about the strangth not to hurt others the way they hurt you...
We knew , it was if a moment stopped in time
hearing the news before most of the World did
He loved to fly his plane from Colorado to Monterey Bay
He was a avid golfer at Pebble Beach respected
He had loves and passions from many places
deciding to fly low through the overcast red sunset
Not only did he love music and inspire all
He loved his Plane , he will always remain a beautiful Soul
The next day it was confirmed ..all saddened
It was John Denver's plane that went down
Today in Pacific Grove stands the Memorial
So Kiss me and smile for me we will ~
always in loving memory
OH babe , do we hate you go ~
Inspired by ; contest in Music and Loss of an Artist
"Leaving on a Jet Plane "
Lou Reed , Mistral of his time
so you walked this road on the wild side
unique in music , never selling out
believing in Art instead of commercialize
Lou Reed the musician never compromised ~
Sweet Jane not enough for our crowd of eccentric rockers
still will live forever with the many that left before you
one can imagine from John Lennon to Johnny Ramone
a party in Heaven of the finest rock bestowed
no text , no MTV when they pursued a dream
New York, hotel Chelsea an age of Renaissance
ragged jeans and leather jackets ,Art on stage
No, your Rock not ever fade away , it will stay sweet Jane forever ~
For the fine Man with words , ode to Lou Reed .
She never did come back home that night
Me pacing the floor
Walking for miles in search of her
Leaving me torn apart
Spewing with the turmoil of wondering
Just what happened to her
Who had she been with and why?
Engraved on to my mind
etched in my heart
her love, her sighs
Spiking my tongue
her name cries out
My heart splinters
my gut receives another jolt
God I loved that girl
and didn't even know for certain until today
But now it is too late
I left it too long
to proclaim my love for her
afraid of the pain
which comes from being knocked back
still even that is not as I suffer now
in the whispering of her name
I look in the mirror
yet see her reflection stare back at me
smiling and tossing back her flowing locks
her very presence is felt in abundance
Her huge eyes dark as purest deepest sapphires
class more expensive than purest diamonds
with a charismatic magnetism radiating out
overwhelming all within reach of her personality
Stolen from this world she was
No notice to anyone that she would be leaving
Nothing makes sense anymore
And I long to know if we shall meet again
Some new day in a realm beyone ours
Another time another place
I'll wait for her as I hope she will for me
For true love will never die
Based on a true story from Christmas when a young woman went missing - found murdered... My thoughts went to those around her and inspired to write came this, but I have changed the girls name for the sake of those that knew her... So sad to still have these things going onin our world...
This is about a man whose name is Jesse
Born In Kansas and raised in Missouri
Was called to fight for his beloved country
And assigned to defend an outlying territory
Jesse fought as hard as any American would
For freedom and democracy he did everything he could
For Uncle Sam, even in danger steadfast he stood
Believing in his heart that everything will turn out good
He was with the Death March in Bataan
But he was helped to escape by his special someone
Josie was the name of this special woman
Who walked along with the March since it began
It was in the territory that he met Josie
A woman whose dad was from Cincinnati
The two fell in love cause they had chemistry
They had their first child in nineteen forty three
In forty four he was again captured by the Japanese
He was already sick cause he caught a disease
Was taken to a prison camp and placed under lock and keys
In the end the harsh conditions led to his demise
Josie tried to look for his grave but failed
She couldn't do anything and in sadness she wailed
There were reports that he died in the hell ship as it sailed
But to get proof to the true cause of his death we have failed
Jesse died in January of nineteen forty five
Stories about him that Josie told kept him alive
In the heart of his descendants his memories survive
Love for him in their hearts continues to thrive
But every time I go to bed and close my eyes
I see his face and think of the truth that I despise
My whole body stiffens and I get as cold as ice
Sadly thinking that still, in an unknown grave he lies
(For my grandfather US Army 2nd Lt. Jesse C. Boak of the 33rd Infantry
Regiment, who was declared MIA in WWII. His body was never found and true
cause of his death was never known.His name is listed in the Tablets of the
Missing at the Manila American Cemetery and on a Memorial Monument at the
State of Missouri
Grandpa even though I never got the chance to really know you I will always be
proud of you-JEB)
JESSE C. BOAK
2nd Lt. US Army
Awards: Silver Star, Bronze Star, Purple Heart with 2 Oak Leaf Clusters
Suddenly a very soft and familiar voice spoke to her conscious saying “Lovely”
“Yes” she replied
“Tomorrow you are coming back home”
“OK” she said breathing heavily
The conversation ended right at that instant
Seven minutes later the unpredictable happens and Lovely dropped into a short comma.
A new day arrives.
Ding dong, ding dong, sounds the door-bell
Lovely wakes up; open the golden windows the sun is raising
Knock, knock someone is at the golden door
She didn’t know what was going on this time
She walks all the way to the door not noticing that her house was made out of the finest
marble, and the finest gold that ever existed.
Lovely answers the door thinking is the mail man with the missing letter.
When she finally opens the door instead of the mail man was her husband with open arms and
a smile on his face.
Saying “welcome home baby” “I had been waiting for you”
WE ALL GOING TO A BETTER PLACE SOMEDAY. OUR REAL HOME.
Ding dong, ding dong, sounds the door-bell
She wakes up; open her window the sun is raising
Knock, knock, some one is at the door
She rushes to the door thinking is the mailman
She is expecting a love letter from Iraq
She finally answer the door but stead of the mail man is an officer from the army, he is
well dress and carries a small box with him and inside of the box is an American flag with
three different medals.
One medal is for being a soldier of the US Army, the second medal is for being a national
hero, and the third one, is a medal of honor for dying for his country.
She goes crazy crying out for help, screaming all out that she was expecting a baby.
“I’m really sorry” the officer says
“If there anything I could do please call me” he reached his wallet and pulled out a
business card and gave it to her.
“He was a brave man” he said
The officer turned around and left the house with out hesitation.
Poor girl was drowning in her own tears; she still didn’t believe what just happen
“Lord please help me”, “help me go through this horrible pain” she cries out.
She goes back to the bed and tries to sleep it off, but it didn’t work out, the pain was
too much just to act like nothing didn’t happen.
She finally falls as sleep after several hours of crying painfully.
She tosses and turns all night long, sweating like crazy with massive pain on her chest
While she was having a horrible nightmare; dreaming about the death of her husband-
I do not know?
Everyone meets me for certain one day.
I appear when you least expect, and lead you on your way. Don’t ask me any
questions, as I have nothing to say, but when I finally meet you, it will be your final
The job I have is hard, but work will never cease, for I am the one who leads you to
I show up when your name appears, be you king or queen or pauper. I must lead
you to the light, father, mother, son or daughter.
My name I hear you ask? Some call me death, or the gate keeper. But for most of
you I am simply known as the GRIM REAPER.
The kids are playing in the park
It's late afternoon, but not yet dark
Time for one last game of hide and seek
"Everybody hide and nobody peek".
One little girl stops on the grass to tie her shoe
She has to hurry before they find her to
Suddenly a shadow falls over her
She looks up to find a strangers face
"Hello little girl", the man says with a grin
"Would you like me to help you win"?
"I'm not allowed to talk to strangers Mommy says"
He reaches out and takes her hand
"Well ", he says "My name is Sam"
Now that we have met, your Mommy wouldn't object
"I guess your right", she says with a smile on her face
And she lets him guide her to a hiding place
Within an hour, everyone is searching the park
She hasn't come home and now it's dark
They search and search, but to no avail
Her Mother is frightened and very pale
The police arrive and comb the woods
A short distance in,
The search dog Buddy
Makes a very grizzly discovery
They find her lying on the ground
Her tiny body bent and bound
Her panties down around her knees
The horrific scene covered in leaves
Her Mom sees the ambulance by the woods
She arrives in time to see her beloved daughter
Being carried in a black bag thru the trees
The shock and pain bring her to her knees
Her tears rage, "Oh My God, how can this be,
It was only a game, who whould want to hurt my child?"
She shakes her head, her eyes gone wild
"Dear God, please no, don't let this be, please, please,
bring her back to me"!
A few days later in a little church graveyard
She buries her only child
Her anger burns deep within
For the person who perpetrated this sin
She prays to the Lord for justice to prevail
As the casket is lowered to the ground
She prays that he will soon be found
Across town on that very day
The children are playing in the park
It's late afternoon, but not yet dark
A man approaches another one and extends his hand
"Hello", he says "My name is Sam"!
I do not know?
(special thanks to a friend who shared this tribute to Solomon Mahlangu)
Solomon Mahlangu: My Blood will Nourish the Tree that will Bear the Fruits of Freedom:
Solomon Mahlangu was trained as an MK soldier with a view to later rejoining the struggle in the country.
He left South Africa after the Soweto Uprising of 1976 when he was 19 years old, and was later chosen to be part of an elite force to return to South Africa to carry out a mission commemorating the June 16th 1976 Soweto student uprising.
After entering South Africa through Swaziland and meeting his fellow comrades in Duduza, on the East Rand (east of Johannesburg), they were accosted by the police in Goch Street in Johannesburg.
In the ensuing gun battle two civilians were killed and two were injured, and Mahlangu and Motloung were captured while acting as decoys so that the other comrade could go and report to the MK leadership.
Motloung was brutally assaulted by the police to a point that he suffered brain damage and was unfit to stand trial, resulting in Mahlangu facing trial alone.
He was charged with two counts of murder and several charges under the Terrorism Act, to which he pleaded not guilty.
Though the judge accepted that Motloung was responsible for the killings, common purpose was argued and Mahlangu was found guilty on two counts of murder and other charges under the Terrorism Act.
On 15 June 1978 Solomon Mahlangu was refused leave to appeal his sentence by the Rand Supreme Court, and on 24 July 1978 he was refused again in the Bloemfontein Appeal Court.
Although various governments, the United Nations, International Organizations, groups and prominent individuals attempted to intercede on his behalf, Mahlangu awaited his execution in Pretoria Central Prison, and was hanged on 6 April 1979.
His hanging provoked international protest and condemnation of South Africa and Apartheid.
In fear of crowd reaction at the funeral the police decided to bury Mahlangu in Atteridgeville in Pretoria.
On 6 April 1993 he was re-interred at the Mamelodi Cemetery, where a plaque states his last words:
‘My blood will nourish the tree that will bear the fruits of freedom.
Tell my people that I love them.
They must continue the fight.’
Mahlangu died for a cause!
The Struggle Continues…
(special thanks to a friend who shared this tribute to Solomon Mahlangu)
Globally, miners jubilantly jump for joy
Smiles on the faces of every girl and boy
The grins of a newly opened Xmas toy
Trade unionists bounce along the street
Music blaring and the tapping of feet
From nurses to Bobbies still on the beat
Street parties announced in the nation
Satan who brought economic inflation
Is deceased, now’s the time for elation
Its times like this I’m sad I’m an atheist
And can only shout and wave my fist
And then go to the pub and get pissed
Im going to tell you a story about a girl.
She was smart, and ready to take on the world.
Had a hard childhood with her mother always ill,
but her father worked hard and struggled to pay the bills.
My name is Pam and the poem your about to read,
Is a interesting poem, all about me.
I started to feel depression and pain,
at the age of 15 I was snorting cocaine.
I got pregnant at a young age and wanted to explore,
So I walked right out of my families door.
Time went on and I was still not around,
My mom grew sicker and dad wearing a frown.
Not much longer until I experienced this change,
and tragic horrible hurt and feeling of pain.
I walked in that room ,and climbed in the bed
I layed down beside him, and layed down my head.
With my hear I could hear his heartbeat.
The next thing I new we were burying him six feet deep.
At the funeral they said she was in a better place,
but it just wasnt fair to see that look on her face.
My mom that is she died with my dad,
She may have been breathing but always so sad
Two years later she decided to give up,
her faith was gone and hope for luck up.
Thats when I really started to struggle,
barely getting by and forgetting that i was mother.
She seen me drift into a dark place,
I started loosing weight in my stomach and my face.
Before I new it I was always getting high,
Weeks became months, and time flew right by
Its to bad that I chose this new path I was on ,
Because on August 11Th I got a call saying my mother was gone.
Like a replay I walked into that room,
to see her lying there as stiff as a broom.
I layed down beside her and rubbed my fingers
through her hair , but the pain I was feeling I just couldn't bare.
You would think after loosing my mom and my dad,
Anything else wouldnt seem near as bad
Within four years I had nothing left,
My child was taken for my foolish regrets.
Just me and my addiction no more tears to cry,
so many different ways that I could get high.
I would like to introduce this powerful drug,
It bring nothing but bad when I was searching for love.
The name is crystal, Crystal Meth
The one thing in the world, I wish I had never met...
My Dad was Chicagoan.
He would light up a room just like my Mom.
He loved to fish ! He loved his beer .
He also designed a Octagon home in the 70's
Built custom by hand . I was very proud of Dad .
Alcohol hit our Family , a curse .
He left my Mom when I was 14 in Illinois.
To renew in California , leaving a trail of tears .
Meeting my step mom , my sisters age .
My 2 sisters they were accepted in her world .
Not I , I looked too much Like Mom . Told this all my Life .
She a petite Beauty , RN , real estate Broker .
I did not see why it was wrong to be like mom ?
I moved in with Dad, His new Wife , and 2 sisters
eventually . All three women were competing for my Father .
I was kicked out at 16 yrs.
Years do pass , you try and accept people places and things .
At the end of Dads life , he was calling me once a week .
I ordered a Engraved Clock for the Fathers day coming.
This was a issue for the Wife and sisters , never invited to his new home , 2 Decades ~My little Brother & I , never wanted .
Dad passed suddenly one sad Spring Day . Not one word from his wife , all 3rd party, how and when, Dad Died . being denied the right to his address , even to say goodbye .
Not being able to send my engraved clock .
"Dad Passed " received call from sister whom just stayed a week with me , I took her all around the sites here . "1st day I get call , you should come , 2nd Day after , Dad's been cremated already . " It was a lie.
I went anyway , finding the funeral home, the Funeral Director was appalled at the denial displayed.
He insisted I was given 10 minutes alone with Dad , my Birthright to say Goodbye , he was in dismay over the Hostility towards a daughter ~
I get to this room of mean relative's. His sisters , Mine, angry looks , hearing from a Aunt "What is she doing Here ! " I can't give nor reason or rhyme.
Shame to you and all that participated that wicked day.
Are you Glorified with Power? Denied the right to grieve ,
Left with no sane answers to give in hatred received by Blood . Some , just Spouses , telling me I had no right to Say Goodbye to my own Father , My DAD .
My Dad wanted me there , I know he did . I love Him and will never forget , his youngest girl whom looked like Mom . I know in my heart and dreams he speaks.
We all see when we leave . May God not allow any Son or Daughter to go through such Evil.
Thank-you Poetry Soup for returning my voice .
In great respect of the band I grew up listening to
as sure as Mom passed down Saturday Chores
for I had been chosen to scrub bathroom floors `
Yet a familiar sound would bring me to keep scrubbing
The red album, The blue album , The White album
Then .. Abbey Road , always remembering the sad look on
Ringo's face , something hard to understand underneath~
I get it now, what you were saying all those years ago ,
the many sad lonely tears , secret tears , secret fears
For Maxwell's Hammer was a real one . It wanted silence
Going back ..remembering when John Lennon died
I was in Arkansas saddened with the world .
Then seeing his face saying " Drag isn't it "
No .. this was not my hero in music and song .
he was a stand in hired William , he filled his shoes
bringing diversity to create so much beautiful music from loss
One left standing , alone;; grief struck on back cover ~
The other identity hidden, tried to be part of ..coming together
his world of secrets
He to suffers today , in fear , Faul~
Too many years gone by .let us tell the Truth. Let us be free
The very sad long and winding Road ~
Let us Bury our real Paul.
No more " Mystery tour "
No more fear
Let him be in peace ~
Inspired by " The Last Testament of George Harrison , Is Paul Dead ? "
I call her name in my sleep
No, not this day
The gods won't let me be
Death will be my escape
From all the madness
All this madness from dreams
No, not this day
They won't leave me at peace
I call out to her from my sleep
I reach for her, and she is there
My comfort zone, I pull her close
It calms me to no end.
She says nothing even though I know
I've pulled her away from her lucid dreams
again ~ I need her, my angel of light
It's true, I need her there to save me
Save me from dreams of the grave
I'm standing closer every time I sleep
She is the only one who saves me from this fate
From falling into this grave I dug for me.
7/15/2000 my X used to have dreams of his grave,,,, he was always waking me,
must of been his line of work.
A thunder-clap, the storms approach
Each eerie revelation
No hope for man
Nor none for 'roach
A prophetic annihilation
The World awaits, a harrowed end
Mans soul, it hangs
Tentative, it bends
Ensnared, in its false treasures
The evening veil of darkness
Accomplice, to the Moon
Covers up its naked secret
A portent clear
A harbinger of doom
His end, long in the making
A teardrop in the Ocean
He waits there, shaking
Unsaved, in his devotion
Arch-Angels, weep eternal
Both wings and hands are tied
The Wind it cuts
The Rain can never
Wash clear Infernal ties
Faith, leaves you , at the Alter
Tattooed, in your own shame
In Times of War
In Trial by Fire
Death, calls you by your name
A Tribute to Edgar Allen Poe...
A friend , a poet , a music Man , The Cowsills
remembering the song "hair" on the radio as a 5 yr old.
As fate brought us together one day in New Orleans
Barry Cowsill the hidden artist yet well known .
Adoring your eyes and smile , hat , the look when you asked me ..
"do you remember the Cowsills ? " as I then began to sing ..
"long ,beautiful Hair, Flaxen , waxen blacksen " Hair ! Oh daddy daddy "
his life and smile , his love , imagining me for a while , yes ..in love.
My Friend met his fate passionate , his Legacy , bravely refusing evacuation
Katrina , a storm too strong for even An artist with a guitar , my love fallen
Remembered now by all , for his remains were found under a bridge ,
The Oyster poor boys , The zydeco to blues , Barry, too great for Our World .
Remembering the Jazz festival, memories, torn in my mind yet left behind ,
Barry Cowsill , when I leave this World , will you come and bring me to yours ?
Oh Flora, Choral Beauty
The Sun Rises With You
Out of An Abyss of Chaos, Yet No Piece of Beauty Is Lost
I Can't Grant You Nobility, But Our Love's Vitality
Will Last Till The Gates
of Hades's Halls
They Will Push, They Will Pull, And Their Power Will Grow
Just To Have A Piece
of Our Love's Immortality
For It They Cannot Wait
Subdued By Desperation's Phantom
But I Will Always Be One of Them
So, My Dear, Please Understand
I'm Just A Chevalier Drenched With My Sins
The Hope Will Fade
The Rose Will Turn Black
The Promise Was Just I Lie, Though I Forbade
I Will Just Be Another Empty Heart, Slain
By Your Loosening Grip On My Sanity
I Will Die, You Will Be Free
Believe - It's The Way Things Must Be
My Dear, Just Understand
In the summer of 2007, God received an angel.
The Angels name was Katie.
Katie was sweet & Katie was good
But I guess God wanted sweet old Katie
Out of the hood.
She did all she could, she gave all she had
But never in her life treated anyone bad.
Jesus, I know that she’s good
I know that she is great
But sometimes I just hate,
Hate that she is gone
Hate that she is away
I think about her everyday.
Everyone & Everything is changing
Family is falling apart,
Oh why it’s breaking my heart.
Tearing the house down acting like pure clowns
God you got a gift
But sometimes I wish,
Wish you hadn’t took my Angel
Wish you would have let her stay a little longer.
God received an Angel.
The Angels name was Katie
I hope Katie is with me daily
Until I die & visit her in the sky
House is up wholesale, everyone thinking
“WHAT THE HELL”
Angels, Angels, Angels
Angels flying here, Angels flying there
Angels are flying around just about any & everywhere
You took a couple of my families angels in strange ways
I get up in the morning wondering when is my day
& who will be next to depart us.
My heart was broken when you took my Angel
Oh, why did you have to take her,
Her out of all people
She followed the rules and the laws
But I am wondering is that all.
MY NAME IS ALFRED GARNETT
(With apologies to Johnny
My name is Alfred Garnett,
and I'm married to a silly
'Every time I come home
from work - she tells me
what to do!'
I am a Tory supporter -
well, someone has to be -
I keep on praising Ted
Heath - he lived at bleak
house for free!
I work very hard every
day - and I have a little
And when I was told to
work a three day week -
oh, I really did have a
I like to smoke my pipe
a lot - but the tobacco
costs too much -
It is my only pleasure -
the sex is out of touch!!
We now have a new
home help - his name
is Marigold Winston -
But because he's like
a woman - I call it
He prances about in a
pinny - and he talks
in an African dialect -
Why did the bloody
council pick him? Could
they not be a bit more
Now I call him Marigold -
he's always prancing
He really is an eyesore -
he always has to shout!
But he does know his
place - he loves his
He cooks and cleans
like a demented queen -
and he cleans my dirty
My wife, Else, God Bless
her soul - is up in
But the DHSS stopped
her pension - she's left
me skint - the cow!
I've called the social
services - they are no
They act just like the
DHSS - they don't pay
me like they should!
My name is Alfred
Garnett - and I often
have a beer -
It is my only pleasure -
now I've lost my, Elsie'
People say I'm a racist -
and a bigot, and a
I think they've got the
wrong person - some
said I was their saviour!!!!
I love to watch West Ham -
(up the hammers) - and
watch it all for nothing;
'I even used a wheelchair -
while the stewards weren't
I want to say goodbye
to you - and I thank you
for being true,
Oh, how I miss my Elsie -
that bloody silly moo!!
She's highly sophisticated and full of undefiled wisdom
Yet a crowned Duchess in a paradise kingdom
Quite a beautiful angel flying with black wings
Covered in gold jewelry and precious things
She dresses like the women of ancient Egyptian class
Her wealth is generous and her money grows like grass
She loves orange scented candles with dark room flame
She rules thirty legions of soldiers and Bune is her name
Her comely warrior voice can wake and relocate the dead
Her armies of soldiers gather around the cemetery
She is brave and deserves a princessly crown on her head
Her facility of speech and flair for words is legendary
A beautiful queen to be treated with respect and honor
Instead of blasphemy,wanton abuse and fictional horror
johny on the pony
hide and seek
red light green light
I closed my eyes
and counted one two three
ring ring alerio
I opened them
and everything was gone
Here, is a boy that wandered astray,
He went for a walk and got lost on the way,
He tried to find home, wherever that is,
He tried to find comfort that he could call his,
He walked through the woods and past the oak trees,
He followed the rivers and the warm summer breeze,
He came to a house that was rotting away,
He said to himself “Here’s where I’ll stay”.
He was going to sleep when he herd a dull scream,
He didn’t think much, he thought it was a dream.
He woke in the morning tied to the bed,
Before him was a man, who was sick in the head,
The man was curious as to what this boy was named,
When asked, “Harp” is the name the boy Claimed,
The man looked at Harp and quietly said,
My name is Randal, and soon you’ll be dead,
Randal began to inflict horrible pain,
He watched this boy bleed and didn’t refrain.
After weeks of torture and equal unrest,
The boy named Harp made his final request,
He looked at the man that had tore him apart,
And said “Kill me please, and save my young heart.”
The man looked at Harp with tears in his eyes,
He said “sorry my boy. Now you shall die”,
After this man had ended Harp’s pain,
He left the boys corps to rot in the rain.
I guess in the end it was all meant to be,
For death was the way to make this boy see,
He was better off dead because now he cant feel,
Feel the pain he once wished wasn’t real.
He was just a boy with a loving heart,
The story of his life, the boy named Harp.
I do not know?
I signed the guestbook, hoping that _____, Jenny’s mom would get my message and get in
contact with me. In the mean time, every person who signed it, I got updates about.
Then, one Saturday, I got this e-mail saying someone had signed the guest book, so right
away, I read it. It was someone named ________, from Ohio…and that she was Jenny’s
biological sister, and she left a phone number. Now…I know this name…because my birth
father’s mother had told me that name when I met her in January. So, I nervously picked up
the telephone and dialed the number. Thank goodness the machine picked up, LOL…I said
hello, my name is Melissa Powell, I am in Indiana. Jenny was my biological sister, by the
same birth father, and I think that you and I may be sisters too. Give me a call when you
can. Two hours later…the phone rang…it was ______…confirming we were indeed sisters!
Then she dropped a bomb on me…I had another sister _____! Wow…I lost one sister 2
weeks ago…and today, I find out I have two more sisters! What a blessing! So in the mean
time, ____, _____ and I are getting to know each other, and our families. So we get to
talking about possibly looking for other siblings because out birth grandmother has told us
there are indeed more of us out there. So we look on Facebook with the names. ________ I
wrote to about 20 _______ Even though when I saw her picture when I wrote her…I knew
she was my sister…we could be identical twins! So a few weeks go by…then on April 3, I get
home from Good Friday Church services and there is a e-mail from ______…Call me, I found
_______… Not only did we find _______…we found _____!
So with the tragic death of our beautiful sister Jenny…it brought all of all us together!
Now we have the rest of our lives to be sisters and get to know one another. God works in
mysterious ways, and we all believe that he brought us together using Jenny as our northern
star. And there are even more of us out there! Current count…Six girls and we are told we
may even have some brothers somewhere!
Oh lonely Inevitable Bear,
Padding claws, death in white
Sorrow in recurring nightmare
Instinct’s test; fight or flight?
Camouflage against the fence,
A challenge; my subconscious fear
Ominous slowly moving silence,
“Let me in, there’s a bear out here!”
I ask all to be open minded as I tell the story of my friend, William .
There are so many prejudice in this World , from color to sex
To me it has always been the soul , the person inside
For one that is shallow will not experience life in true blessing
William my friend was African American , he was fun and personality full of 'I am here "
William was Gay , William disowned , William called "A queer "
Well this is a lesson for all to know
God does not care what color , but the heart , what color it shows .
I had left my 1st Husband , with 2 children I had to support .
I was depressed , felt alone in the civilian World of a sort
For when I got to Monterey bay , I was on a Military base
Very shy and recluse , not leaving the perimeter of the land
I opened such a big door when I left that abusive Man
I had the tiniest apartment with 2 little rooms , probably 550 sq. feet I presume .
I will never for get the night He came to my door , William ," Girl, lets go dancing
Let's go explore ! He called me 'The platinum Blonde "
We went out together and danced , he was amazing ! William energized any room . He Lit it Up !
For he had something inside his beautiful soul , no money could buy, nor silver or gold.
Well years went by in Monterey bay , I had fallen in love with a man , Lost so much time .
Time went by , after the man broke my heart ,I remember "where is William "
I missed something that lies deep in my heart . The true Love and friendship of he I craved .
Now this story is long so go to "William part 2 "be patient , be brave .
The same deadly story unfolds
Mumbai, Pune, Varanasi
Bombs rip apart our souls
When will stop this atrocity
They come in the form of Demons
Kill in the name of God
Nature created species and humans
Why Humans created God?
Bloated egos fill some minds
Hatred makes the world go blind
We are all born to die
This is not the way, we cry
Swear in the name of dead
To slay in the name of God
Dangerous game triggered by man
The same God will destroy man
I felt at unease
My love, at tease
I embraced her close
Yet feared I her loss
She saw my sweat and fear
And my eyes look elsewhere
“What has put your heart on fire
Has my lover turned to a liar?
What secret have you got to hide
If love other, then with me confide”
“For past few weeks
Have I been in pains
My heart trembles
In fear, humbles
When I see you approach
I see Her too encroach
I wish to love you at all times
But She shatters all my hopes
Both of you are as real
I cannot deny you either
Ah! Death is her name
Separation is her game
She comes uninvited
To have lovers frightened
Nightmare of life is she,
Pirate of Lovers’ sea is she
Ridicule of love, her hobby
She cares not for any lobby
Ah! Death is her name
Separation is her game
His father named him Moses.
Devoid of speech yet blessed.
Doctors said he would live thirty years hereafter.
Buoyant nature and carried a smile always,
With sense of humor lived through derision.
On the day his father passed away
He sat still and hid his tears within.
Not long, few years later
His mother who would voucher him,
Understand the complexity of his heart
Laid on her final resting place,
He sat still and hid his tears within.
Later his bosom friend moved away,
He sat still and hid his tears within.
Enervate and lonely orphan he became,
Dolefully he wept when none would see.
Albeit the great sorrows of his heart,
No trauma ceased him to live mirthfully.
After thirty still he lives.
And walking through the paseo every morning,
They who pass him by with admiration schmoose of a man
Who can’t speak and had great sorrows;
Nonetheless so twinkly he lives on,
Knowing not yet parfay wishful,
when he would wake up one fine morning
And meet his loved ones again on the other side.