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Death Work Poems | Death Poems About Work

These Death Work poems are examples of Death poems about Work. These are the best examples of Death Work poems written by international PoetrySoup poets

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Details | Free verse | |

'God selected the perfect rose'


your voice now silent never to see you smile again you left us heartbroken unprepared shocked to silence we remember your laughter and your “I can go on attitude” never complaining just being you even when fighting this battle we'll never know why you had to leave us so soon we'll always wonder we'll always have questions God knew your journey was complete when He selected the perfect rose for His garden today--- IN LOVING MEMORY OF A FRIEND AND COLLEAGUE, MICHELLE SCHULTZ 26092011 We, at BABS miss you already
280920111335


Details | Bio | |

Maurice Glenn Turner and Randy Thompson: Fallen Heroes

Glenn Turner and Randall "Randy" Thompson were the best police officer and volunteer firefighter in all of Cobb County, Georgia, until March 1995 (WWF Monday Night Raw and WWF Wrestle-Mania XI) and January 2001 (Raw Is War, WWF SmackDown!, and the WWF Royal Rumble) when their lives were taken away from their loving families by Julia Lynn Womack: aka the "Black Poisoning Widow." It seems that it was these two guys in uniform who married the same woman, especially when she was after their money, totaling hundreds and thousands of dollars, even in life insurance. Glenn and Randy have been killed by a deadly liquid by the form of Etheline Glycol rich antifreeze; Lynn Turner used it to spike that of lime-flavored gelatin (green Jell-O), sweet iced tea, and chicken noodle soup. Now, how cold-blooded was that? But to be honest, Maurice G. Turner and Randy Thompson, God rest their souls, really never should've met this gold digging assassin named Julia Lynn Womack (who's now dead) to begin with. Their families, their colleagues, and the citizens of Cobb County, Georgia, they still don't understand why the lives of these two men have to end in a tragic manner. They've got a bunch of whole lives ahead of them. But now that Lynn Turner, who killed both her police officer husband and her firefighter boyfriend, is dead, she can't hurt anyone else ever again. Randall and Glenn are no longer with their friends and families (including their moms), but their spirits will live on forever and they'll see their loved ones in heaven one day. And as for Julia Lynn Womack-Turner, she got what was coming to her and may she burn in the giant pit of inferno for all eternity.


Details | Free verse | |

The Color Missing

The Color Missing
Red, black, and blue are the colors of our work pens. Red is the color of the blood we spill on other people’s mistakes.  Blue is the color of the songs we sing on tax forms or pay stubs- every page has a secret melody. Black is the color of the streets we fear most. Black is the color of our signature of approval. Black is the color of our death.

‘But what about the Green pens?’ I ask. They say ‘the ink is too hard to see.’


Details | Epithalamium | |

Eulogy for Wangari Maathai


Wangari Maathai is not dead 
I roll back my tear
Peer from my window
Deep the grooming forest

Switch off my radio
Tear the headline
I refuse the epitaph
I write no word

Her monument must sprout 
Beyond the canopy
She died to defend

Let Wangari not die
Mother of mother nature
Where she lives!


Details | Narrative | |

Marla

Marla was a friend of mine I knew from working at UTMB Over 10 years we worked together In the department of pathology Though we actually worked In two different locations there We still became pretty good friends Leaving me memories of times we shared Besides her friendship with me To all, Marla was very helpful She knew her job exceptionally well And was always professional Our department felt confident As we knew Marla was the one To work in an accurate manner And get any task completely done Marla attended a few SSP luncheons We would both go there to meet She came as my guest a few times And we would save each other a seat I’ll carry the memories of Marla With me throughout my living years I know that when it’s my time to go She’ll be saving a good seat for me up there Florence McMillian (Flo)


Details | Pantoum | |

In Her Teen

We know her future could be bright
If not for death that snatched her dream
She was the queen among her mates
The few she left here said it all

If not for death that snatched her dream
While on earth she nurtured the best
The few she left here said it all
A jewel worth many to pens

While on earth she nurtured the best
She was the queen of her mates
The few she left here said it all
We know her future could be bright


Details | Dramatic Verse (Verse Drama) | |

The Rain and Wind

The wind blew events all over the place.
Intense emotions and it gave chase.
Lightning lighting to show us the sky.
People try to sleep and not cry.
Wisping by the wind keeps us awake.
The time trying to sleep the storms take.
Chills in everyone gives all shiver.
The clouds surrounded by moonlight is silver.
Heavenly prayers that the rain will stop.
The flood stopped a car the person in it was a cop.
People have seen such devastation.
The road that people made was week in creation.
Rivers near by was over flowing.
Trees that were there was not showing.
By the hour it claimed many.
My father woke up and did not see any.
Floating by was a boat.
Keeping people above water and a float.
My father kept a canoe.  
That some day we would use it, that he knew.
Time to paddle up and down the street.
The rain water kept getting on our seat.
It was so dark after the moon was behind the cloud.
Still the noise of thunder still covered the ears loud.
The smell of moist water never seem to go away.
My brothers seem to still sleep anyway.
My head was bobbing up and down.
I was so tired that I could not hear a sound.
The wind blew back and fourth.
It seems that my mom and dad paddle their worth.
Till all the people we saw with grace.
Help us out with embrace.
The time was so late at night.
Everyone was so sleepy and losing sight.
The fight with the weather was so hectic.
The feelings of energy was electric.
Losing to such natural disaster is hard to understand.
When people working hard to block the river with bags of sand.
With hard workers like my mom and dad.
They make things happen that is not bad.
Rough with weather they experience more than ever.
Leaders they are they are very clever.
From the night light of street lights to the morning glow.
The wind did not stop so.
Bringing in more clouds that ill.
The people who were still tired still had will.
The rush of water and waves blasting push the wall side.
Pushing and the force brought water inside.
The battle of our hour was getting long.
Backup people came to aid us was strong.
Rested they were to keep everyone with hope.
The people stopped the water with the strength of rope.
Heavy rain and loss of homes bring people together.
It is kind of sad that this was the only time to gather.
Chaos comes happiness how true.
This is why we are human that gives us a clue.
It is our nature to keep rain falling.
To know when it is time for our calling.
The winds bring such pain and sorrow.
That is why rain sometimes fallow.








Details | Pastoral | |

Seeking The Registrar

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

A lie slowly becomes' Mercy
As the truth suddenly becomes'
   Crystal clear,
           However,
There comes' a time where
Life has equated itself with Death
          -----------
           And yet,
The implications' so unclear
           -----------
And then death has made off
With it's own consumption
           Of Will
            -----------l
As it breaches' it's own
     Confidence inundate....
And has blended it's own 
           Way threw...
As We seek the resound
Sound know as the "Registrar"
He make's Legions' of me and you
               --------------
When we do appear before him
Fore He is far beyond man
      So repetitiously clear
He makes' short work of perdition
  In the deliverance of all man
               --------------
And He delivers' sanity soulfully at will
      It is the "Just" among man
               -------------
Then in a chasm like appurtenance
   It becomes Evil Incorporate
             Evil on demand
              -------------
     He then reveals' himself
               -For-
He is but a creation threw time
      He brings superstition
He play's with the mind
And this He has been doing
   Since the beginning
         Of time

                          GF


Details | Free verse | |

Work

Work.
Toil.
The pain I put in the ground.
For such a precious thing.
Corn. 
The family enjoys their meal.
They plant their leftover kernels.
And wait for me to tend to them.
Work. 
An endless cycle in which happiness is born.


©Demand4poetry
21 February 2013


Details | Ode | |

An Ode To A Dead Apple

Ode To A Dead Apple
Oh poor Dan what can we say
He’s had such bad news delivered today
His Apple Mac that’s virus free
As expensive and speedy as can be.
To do your work is such a breeze 
Bug free it does not catch a sneeze
But what the Apple people did not do
Was protect it from the likes of you
Your Apple Mac that you so love
Is put to rest and looks down from above.
The death of your Mac is hard to take
Don’t do anything stupid for goodness sake
It was tired with all the work you do
And sleepy just like De and you
But listen to some advice that’s free
Never give it any more coffee or tea.
© 21/06/2102~GG~

To my poor Nephew that has spilled a mug of Coffee and Killed his Mac


Details | Free verse | |

ABAMI EDA (For Fela Anikulapo-Kuti)


Appears the strange Fella
On a stage of many fellows
But not doing “Mr Follow-follow”
Smoking it out the truth
Into the skulls of the VIP
Like no other fellow

Abami, thorning their flesh ceaselessly
Amidst them the Generals
The fella Fela shivers their spines
Telling peole to stop “Shuffering and Smiling”
But General Hog was not done 
Decreed Republic’s demolition

“Zombie” swamp on our Jerusalem
His Mama’s life cut short in Kalakuta
Then came a “Coffin for Head of State”
Abami, gallowed with pant in gaol
Yet, he weeds on with vigour
Kalakuta People’s Replublic must stay

General Swine’s Zombies tortured him
His long skinned trousers appear ruffled
A Fela puffs his way out of the gaol
Yet, his mouth waxes stronger Afro-tune sax
To the great beyond the sky
“In no be Gentleman at all
But for once, he never betrayed the truth.   



Alayade Stephen T.
29th, September, 2006
11.00am



NB-Abami Eda means a strange fellow.
VIP in Fela’s parlance means Vagabond in Power,
And Mr Follow-Follow, Coffin For Head Of State, Zombie,
Shuffering and Smiling are all titles of popular tracks amidst his hit songs.


Details | Rhyme | |

The Chicago Haymarket Riot of 1886

It was in eighteen eighty-six in the streets of Chicago, where the greatest miscarriage of justice people would know transpired in an infamous labor-police rendezvous. Albert Parsons led eighty thousand people on revue. The strikers marched down Chicago’s Michigan Avenue. The Knights of Labor were sponsors for the work stoppage venue. Demands for shorter work hours and no child labor were made. This would be regarded as the world’s first May Day parade. Thousands nationwide would join in with the activities In the next few days, the striking workers stopped whole industries. On the third, some strikers and police engaged in melees. These actions resulted in two ill-fated fatalities. The struggles also caused some severe hideous injuries. The fights took place at the McCormick Harvester Company. Many held the police for murderous culpability. Organizers from the Knights of Labor held a mass rally at the Haymarket in Chicago’s West Loop vicinity. They would assemble there in the early part of May. Thousands crowded there peacefully on the month’s fourth day. Leaflets were passed noting the police for murder to the crowd as anarchists urged the mobs to join forces and shout aloud. A bomb thrown at the police catalyzed an altercation. One officer was killed and others hurt in the explosion. Matthias Degan was the officer fallen in duty. Seven other policemen died later from an injury. The police opened fire on the people immediately. At least eleven of the strikers were shot at fatally. Eight men stood trial for the death of police officer Degan. They were Parsons, August Spies, George Engel, Samuel Fielden, Adolf Fischer, Louis Lingg, Michael Schwab, and Oscar Neebe. All eight were tried and found guilty by a judge and jury. Neebe got fifteen years; the others got the death penalty. Schwab and Fielden were commuted to life; then got clemency. Lingg took his own life before his scheduled execution. The remaining four men were hanged in public exhibition. Since then, there have been enacted many labor reform laws The men who died are considered martyrs to a noble cause. I thank wikipedia.org online encyclopedia for the information I obtained to write this poem.


Details | Free verse | |

They're Watching You

They're watching you,
they're always watching you,
check out the daily news.

Henchmen rob bank,
two officers killed,
change channel.

Reality T.V.
a celebraity stumbling out of a club,
drunk as hell.

Change channel,
a gay couple buying a house,
in a white collar neighborhood.

They're watching you,
they're always watching you,
even when you don't know it.

Someone is always watching you.
Take out the trash,
wash the dishes.

Watching,
survalling,
like a camera.

Terrorists,
they're always watching you,
Politians always watching you.

School teachers,
police,
FBI and CIA
Always watching you.

Smile for the camera
they're watching
so just wave and smile.

Bullies on playground jungle-gyms
looking out for the ugly nerd,
found him.

Hiding under the woodchips,
get him, beat him up,
I told you, they're always watching you.

Look at me,
look what I can do,
can you see me?

I'll drink to that,
cheers,
for they're always watching.


Details | Dramatic monologue | |

Catch me if you can

If death came to you day after day. 
Followed you to bed and never went away.
Would I still be blamed?
If I all I did,was what death asked of me  today.

I could plead insanity,
I'm dying eitherway. 
I could die a mad man, 
Or pretend I'm insane.

But your smarter than that,  aren't you? 
You like playing my game.
I bet you'd like what I do.
Maybe even garner some fame.

You know me better than that,  dont you?
It was never about  the fame.
I would do what I do, 
Even without the name.

It's the thrill of the chase, 
The trophies that remain.
The puzzles I leave for you, 
The joy, every single time you fail.

You can try to catch me now
Or someother day.
There'll be another body waiting
Everytime you fail.


By 

Amanda Miller


Details | Lyric | |

The Unhappy Moth

She chose a red scarf. The most red 
of them all.
Of a dark red, a sweet and thick red color,
just as wine.

She carved from the red scarf
from the middle
to the size of a Martini glass.

Then she carved one more glass,
and she kept carving 
till she fell asleep.

Yesterday
she saw her Beloved Moth 
flirting with a Younger Moth, 
carving together from a sweater
while she was getting busy,
carving in the shelves.

The Unhappy Moth drank lots of wine
woolen wine, 
last night.
She drank lots, too much
for a Moth.
The Unhappy Moth got drunk
and fell asleep
on the red scarf,
unhidden
with a heart filled with peace.

She was not afraid no more. 
Now she could be seen easily,
laying on the scarf
and easily crushed.

The Unhappy Moth was not 
afraid of death no more,
at least, now she knew 
how wonderful the red scarfs are
and that they taste
like red wine.


Details | Free verse | |

In My Community

Our Ancestors fought to the death,
Just so we can live a brighter day,
So before you light up that blunt of meth,
Think about what you’re giving away,
It was a glad day in history when Obama rose to victory,
The first black president was all we knew,
Dark skin is in!
Haven’t you heard?
That even in our community, 
You can get burned,
It’s a sad day when people would rather stay home and “Crank That Amber Cole”,
Than get up and run to a poll,
In our community,
Rockin’ Luis V is better than having a college degree,
And teen pregnancy is not only a trend,
But the single motherhood that follows should end,
Young girls learn of a wonderful prince to take them away,
Nothing should change thought their mothers prince didn’t stay,
And as the tears fade away,
She grows stronger every day,
In our community,
Fighting is no longer a word,
You argue with someone and shots are heard,
Girls showing places the sun don’t show,
So how do they expect the community to grow?
Where love is a figment of imagination,
Making a young child question her creation,
Young mothers would rather buy the iPhone 5,
Then satisfy her baby’s cries,
While her new man’s eye,
Wander up another girl’s thighs,
In our community,
Where #team dark skin vs #team light skin,
Makes others not love the skin they’re in,
Love, lust, hate, and trust,
Giving a rose on Valentine’s Day is no longer a must, 
Where bad is good and good is bad,
Who would think to see their grandmother sad?
Her hurt and pain,
Shows how our community has lost everything her parents fought to gain.


Details | Rhyme | |

Sons of Memory

Sons of Memory (For those among you in the soil)

I render this verse to sons of memory
Who have been trailblazers to the history-
In poetry world and many beyond.
I doff my hat to you in your lone ground-
Where words deafen world but dear to your wall.
With all sense of commitment I snowball
For this age to re-elevate your name.
Let it accords your hands the deserved fame
And trails your paths in and out and with lines.
Should this age will spoon satisfactory spines. 


Friday February 28, 2014.

Dedicated to all classical poets and writers of other genres
Who have gone to the great beyond.


Details | Quatrain | |

For I Had Lied

Dada was everything to our youth
Our wide faculty was his help
Our recognition was his sooth
Nobody does it than his rep

Many youth he carried up there
Without seeking any penny
Many services he rendered
For free. All of which we did see 

He was not a king or a prince
Perhaps he was just a God sent
To his community, king and prince...
He begot not but was begot

Mindful of his predicament
But dare not showed it on earth
Till that Friday night he drove out
Of town and took to a scar oath

The next hour we heard he had died
And left us belated letter
"Don't cry for me, for I had lied.
...I'll die now before later"


*cry for...: Mourn

28/05/2013


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Todtnauberg

Paul Celan (1920 in Cernauti, Romania  - 1970 in Paris) was a poet and translator. Paul
Antschel was born into a Jewish family in Romania, but as a writer used the pseudonym
"Paul Celan," becoming one of the major German-languuage poets after World War II. Celans
parents were deported by the Nazis in 1942 to a death camp in Transnistria (area between
Moldvia and Ukraine). His Father died of thyphoid, his mother was shot. The deportation
and the death of his parents  left deep marks in Paul Celan. From 1942-1943 he was
imprisoned in work camps and had to work in road construction in southern Moldavia. After
the liberation by the Red Army, Celan went back to Czernowitz and finally settled in Paris
in 1948. In 1969 he travelled to Jerusalem, only fwe months before his death.
Circumstances and true date of his death are not really known but it is believed that he
drowned himself in the Seine River in April 1970. His body was found near Coubevoie, ten
kilometres downstream in the Seine. He was buried on May 12th 1970 in Paris.

	Todtnauberg (Paul Celan)

	Arnika, Augentrost, der
 	Trunk aus dem Brunnen mit dem
	Sternwürfel drauf,


         in der
         Hütte, (= Hut in English)


         die in das Buch
         - wessen Namen nahms auf
         vor dem meinen? -
         die in dies Buch
         geschriebene Zeile von
         einer Hoffnung heute,
         auf eines Denkenden
         kommendes
         Wort
         im Herzen,

         Waldwasen, uneingeebnet
         Orchis und Orchis, einzeln,

         Krudes, später, im Fahren,
         deutlich,

         der uns fährt, der Mensch
         der's mit anhört,

         die halb-
         beschrittenen Knüppel-
         pfade im Hochmoor,

         Feuchtes,
         viel.
--------------------------------------------

Arnica, eyebright, the 
draft from the well with the 
star-die on top, 
in the 
Hütte    
written in the book 
- whose name did it record 
before mine? -
in this book 
the line about 
a hope, today, 
for a thinker's 
word 
to come, 
in the heart, 
forest sward, unleveled, 
orchis and orchis, singly, 
crudeness, later, while driving, 
clearly, 
he who drives us, the man, 
he who also hears it, 
the half- 
trod log- 
trails on the highmoor, 
humidity, 
much. 

Celan: "Todtnauberg" (translated by Pierre Joris)
Used by permission of the translator


Details | Dramatic Verse (Verse Drama) | |

HELP HER UP

written 2nd Aug 2013



This life is not as it should be
 pick up your wife, can't you see 

You're her husband, stand up!
 give her a reason, to again believe

She means 'everything'....to this family
 shutting the door leaving her totally... Alone

Do you actually know her at all...
 damaging her heart and soul, deep within it's cold

Loneliness consumes her, it's been so long
 it must be asked...do you still love her?

Are you willing to help her to her feet again?
 or shall you sit back and watch, as she see's the end

This is completely left for only you, her husband to declare
 how much does she really mean to you...do you still care?

Will you step up, or let her rot into total depression, you see it...
 Love and care, or death and dispirit

It's all up to you!
 Her loving husband, what will you do.....


Details | Rhyme | |

Papa

He walked me down a broken fence line when I was five.	
He put the soil in my hands and taught me it was alive.
He spoke to me of life, in a gentle voice.
Taught me wrong from right, and left me with the choice.
He boosted me up on a saddled horse.
Taught me the things that would carry me through my life’s coarse.
He took my small hand in his work worn hand,
As  he took me out in the fields and taught me the land.
And there was always a warm smile behind kind eyes.
Smile down at my small face, gentle and wise.
Showed me how to stack hay in a barn when I was eight.
And I can still remember swinging on a cattle guard gate.
And the day he told me someday he would be gone.
The only time in my young life I thought my papa was wrong.
On a wide front porch he told me stories of how life used to be.
And he would say it was a better time, and I would agree.
I still remember climbing up in his lap to sit on his knee.
He was the biggest part of what made me.
A man who taught me to work for everything I had.
He did. They just don’t make em’ like they did my grandad.
In my child eyes he was a man among men.
And I know there will never be another like him again.
These tears I just cannot hide.
For the last good man left, has died.





6-17-10
Sarah D Comstock


Details | Rhyme | |

Craig Kelly Let It Ride

                                        
He seemed an ordinary boy
until he found the supreme joy
of snowboarding, made it an art
in which no one can take a part
without recalling Craig, and how
he was the start of all that’s now.

He is recognized by his peers
as one of a few pioneers
who brought snowboarding up to par,		
esteemed as other snow sports are. 
It now is an Olympic game,
bringing other young folks fame.

He attacked his sport with verve and vim.
World accolades belonged to him.
He made the loved sport his life’s work.
Craig Kelly was not one to shirk.
He took responsibility
for safety to the nth degree. 

It’s such a sad,  ironic touch
the mountains that he loved so much
would be the reason for his death.
Their treachery would steal his breath.
Craig well knew the danger there
and went about his work with care.

Craig had his followers and was
Idolized by them, because
He was the master of his game
Teaching them how to be the same.
Unassuming and understated,
Craig was simply, dedicated.

Dedicated to work and play,
And to his loved ones all the way.	
How many long-lived men can say
When they have met their final day,
“My life too short when it was done,
But every year of it was fun.”

---------------------------------------------------------
For Chris Matt's "Gone to Soon" contest 			
			
If you are a snowborder you know his name. 
If not just google-- Craig Kelly Snowboarder 
b. April 1966--died January 2003  
He was my step-grandson

He died in an avalanche in the Canadian mountains in January of 2003	





For contest		


Details | Pantoum | |

Death Shall Nay Be Here

Death shall nay be here again
With the spark of light diminishing
When comes time to cross the tide
I curse that which lingers still

With the spark of light diminishing
When evening falls, there will I hide
I curse that which lingers still
Fallen love sprang from despair

When evening falls, there will I hide
Refusing the work of devil’s pride
Fallen love sprang from despair
That was broken once, in twain

Refusing the work of devil’s pride
To clutch my heart in pain
That was broken once, in twain
The feelings posturing their ways

To clutch my heart in pain
When comes time to cross the tide
The feelings posturing their ways
Death shall nay be here again


Details | Elegy | |

Elegy For Delphina

We come again to the stall at the gate
We come to the memory of empire
Where Delphine sat, the humble queen in state
And fed her family from one desire
That they should noble live, and work and dream
And love … and the gate was her throne supreme

But roll back now the tears of dusty days
When the sweet scent of sugar like anthem rise
From the sweat of workers, and see amaze
Miss Delphina with God’s fire in her eyes
This woman at Caymanas toiling pass
The sun’s hot noon, noble and full of class

See her, a mother, a warrior queen
Whipped by circumstance without surrender
Did anyone call her timid, call her mean?
Who could not find a place then to shelter?
Who did not taste her kindness? Higglers too
Serve for love, O mother, we honor you

From the coal black of days you supplied us
And your children five want not, O, nor need
But your hard work and love so inspired us
We rise in common hope so to succeed
With dignity, but not proud, a true friend
Rarely found in the common walks of men.

Caste nor class can cast decree, nor limit
Our aptitude to rise. Belief has wings
Death cannot break, faith flies in the spirit
And through slant of rain its brimmed vision sings
Delphina, Delphina, we miss you though
The door is so silent through which you go

No more the produce truck will hear her voice
Nor weary hands dry a child’s hungry tears
O death be humble, dare you now rejoice
She sleeps till Jesus shall  for his kingdom appears
And we will hear great heaven’s trumpet blow
And with you mother we will rise and go


Details | Limerick | |

A Girl On A Mission

              A Girl On A Mission

There once was a gal who sold china

Tested rockets in her vagina

She sat on one hard though

It made her a martyr

Blasting her & her china to China 


                                                           6/24/14 Bawdy Limericks II Contest


Details | Sonnet | |

Soonn Deux

On the sands of time

How will his feet print on the sands of time?
The query he is so bothered to ask
Emirates, ere hit and run dashes his rhyme
And creates deep holes of vast pending task.

Will those little lights yet glow when he’s gone?
Or will they die off when he’s in that hole?
This, he meditates in his deepest lone,
Scribbles verse, should unexpected grips whole.

Placer orb was where he conceived this tongue;
Whence his momentary opt to torch the ground
Ere it will be too late to dong a gong-
Then the planet will guest still air of sound.

For the world abrupt visitors, he scribes
This anon writ, ere God sends His un-bribes.

©A.O, 4/3/2014.


Details | Free verse | |

Build up

Continue to push me further,
Force my vision into a raging blur,

Inevitably consumed by the vengeful fire,
Despising you with my every fiber,

Assuming me to be your personal jester for your entertainment,
With such cynical thoughts you would have me in containment,

One day you'll see the abandoned hat on the ground,
You'll search but your jester wont be found,

Till the hour you're sentenced for your heinous crimes,
Until that day I'll bide my time.


Details | Carpe Diem | |

A Timeless Sleep

I remember when I was small and life was simple,
When you got what you wanted by flashing your dimples,
When the homework was what’s two plus two,
When the hardest thing was tying your shoe,
When the most boring thing was when naptime came around,
When you would get in trouble for the smallest of sounds.

But know things aren’t quite a simple,
Not an inch of your face found without a pimple,
Now the homework is Trig and Biology,
Piling it on, no emotion, yielding to no plea,
It’s not just tying them; the shoes have to look nice too,
You have to know what’s it, whether it pink, red, or blue,
Now if only I could find a good position to sleep,
In this pile of homework that has become shoulder deep.

And here we are again nearly 50 years later,
Things still not being too much greater,
Past all the times when we though our lives where tough,
Living in the time where our heir is gray and skin is tough,
Still where the cloths you wore as a kid,
And the kids now where what your parents always did.

You realize that you are the homework now,
What happened 9/11, who did it, why and how,
You squint your eyes, wishing the light was dim,
It’s not the pimples now; it’s the wrinkles that replaced them,
Know you’re ready for that nap taken so many times before,
So you lie back in your chair and lean your head towards the floor…


Details | Rhyme | |

Nation of death





The death nation
Made  for the fear a new sensation
No words, no talks , no negotiation
Well seeing is believing
Heaven  is our motivation
Yesterday it was asleep
Today nothing is gonna keep
The death nation
Rising above every situation
A nation who loves death , it's not any more a myth


Details | I do not know? | |

Brain Dead

There I lay.

Remained, unchanged.
Mind numb, thoughts blank,
Only visions of snowy white project onto the black backs of my eyelids.

Was I paralyzed? Or perhaps I had reached my final destination six feet under the earth...

No. Worse...
Writer's block.

I look around me. Nothing but enclosed darkness. No windows, no doors. 
The air is thick and cold...not yet cold enough to see my breath, but just cold enough for an uncomfortable setting...the monotonous silence is deafening...

I panic, running around frantically in the chilling prison walls of my mind, screaming, clawing, kicking, hoping to somehow break through and see the light of day. 
I stop after what seems like endless useless hours of fighting. Hands bruised and drenched in stale dried blood. 

I'm sitting on the ground now. I yell into the emptiness but receive nothing in return, no echo, nothing. I yawn wildly in fear I have gone deaf...but then I hear a voice. Soft and faint, so gentle that I'm ambushed with another attack of yawns to once again reassure that the tiny whispers are more than my blank labrynthed mind playing tricks on me.

There is a light. A small light, bright and inviting. Shining through an old fashion key hole, to an old fashion door that seemed to appear from thin air.

On hands and knees I approach it with caution. I hear the innocent voice again and I pause. I take a deep breath and look into the peep hole. 

I find myself locked eyes in the reflection of the wild appearance man in my computer screen and awaken.


Details | Free verse | |

THE GUN

Innocent.
silently the blacksmith works
trying to make a living.

Harmless.
The finished product;
the cute cold black metal rod.

Viscious.
The gun swallows
poisonous pellets.

Violent.
It roars.
It spits fire.
It spits death...


Details | Dramatic monologue | |

Abandoned Soul

You step into the future
With every moment that
goes by,
Your charred and twisted soul
Doesn't question why...
All earth is yours for taking,
No other your equal, can be
You see but your bank account,
And that's your destiny,
Slicing through all human values,
As a machete' through the reeds,
You litter this sweet world,
With your selfish deeds

A soul as dark as Hershey's 
Dark chocolate, I would think
The actions that you take,
Makes the human race
seem to stink,
Yes, dear Arnie,
You have no conscience at all,
You laugh at other people,
When they take a fall

You cheat your customers,
You cheat employees too
You are the epitome
Of the shame that man can do

You left your soul somewhere
Surely it is not on this earth,
And when you finally die,
The angels will give you wide girth

How sad to betray those who
struggled,
To make you such a rich man,
So you could laugh as you
cheat them,
You just don't give a damn

So A. H., enjoy your luxurious life
Someday you will face a judge,
When you pass from this life
And St. Peter will not budge,
Allowing you no entrance inside,
The devil will call for you
For payment time has come,
And it's so very overdue.


Details | Rhyme | |

Homai Vyarawalla

Where art thou now, woman with flashing light,
like fingers of God freezing time and men,
in black and white. Thou art not here,
but thou art here forever like death could not
pinch thee away from my eyes
nor hide thee beyond the chronicle of Mumbai.
Many will rest but thou will not, thou weary soul.
I saw thy work hanging like the lynched Messiah,
and saw the truth; life has no voice to speak thy praise,
but death … thy worship raised, like Lazarus from the grave.


Details | I do not know? | |

Tricky Ricky, Sneaky Fire Alarm Guy 10,9,2012

your so mega loud and your freak-in flashy 
oh... And how!
you no (know), know (no) one see the things 
you plan under the blank of helpless night 
Oh! not quite... 
your so dang fast and your so... 
not working alone 
why you've got a many man team 
and they work on getting poor little me 
your so clever and you so perfectly smart 
but it true...  
no one will or won't stop you 
but just you wait and see 
someday the masses will 
catch up 
and get the likes of someone 
who work on getting poor little people like me 
when they have your name and faces down 
i hope and pray they will remember the 
person call verlecia and not just 
the way i was pushed and fell
and made to die...
in a sneaky heart breaking way...


Details | Rhyme | |

The Cardboard Man


THE CARDBOARD MAN

He spent a year in Vietnam
Oh what a horrible shame
He returned home, but his mind stayed there
He hardly knew his name

He walked the halls of the nearest VA
But treatment didn't help
A cardboard box became his home
That is where he slept

You may see him on the interstate
With a crudely lettered sign
Declaring that he'll work for food
But little work does he find

He makes his way back to his box
Only to find that it is gone
Taken by the city street crew
And now he has no home 

He roams the street seeking a haven
Where he may pass the night
Dirty, smelly, and long unshaven
What a tragic sight

They find him huddled in a doorway
This man without a bed
He served his country honorably
But now the cardboard man is dead



Details | Haiku | |

Extinction

The Past

A pristine blue sky
Mirrored agrarian lives 
Living with nature.

Their work was always difficult
But that never seemed to matter.
Their crops were all that counted most:
Enough to feed the family
In good times as well as the bad 
Everyone loved their plot of land.
They knew it meant their survival
So the hard work was the trade-off. 
What developed was mutual
Respect: an interconnection
Whereby one affects the other;
But then one day a cloud appeared:
A black, menacing, looming cloud   
Foretelling future misfortune.

The Present

The industrial
Revolution dawned under
This foreboding cloud.

Machines began to do the work 
That man and beasts for eons had
Performed with blood, sweat and tears.
His work was easier to do
But soon discovered that he had 
Become an industrial slave.
A mere symbiotic creature:
His nature was parasitic.
He no longer had in himself
The oneness and independence
That he had always called his own.  
He’d become fat and ignorant 
Living by his own destructive
Philosophy: hedonism.

The future

The sky is poisoned
As well as the land and the seas.
The earth was dying.

Through Mans continuous neglect
The earth became terminally
Ill. It was no longer able  
To sustain the needs of Mankind.
War broke out all over the globe
Millions killed, many more had starved
To death; billions soon will follow
Billions more after that. The stench
Of rotting flesh has overwhelmed
Those able to live another
Hopeless day, gasped the putrid air
Futile murmurings continued  
Until silenced by the guns
The ultimate judicature. 

An eerie silence
Prevailed and all that was heard
Was screeching vultures.


Details | Free verse | |

Songs of Silence

Darkness envelopes the plain Moving stealthily among Unsuspecting rows of houses Filled with unbroken sleep The wind, afraid to move Lest it were to awaken Even one from the grasp Of this wretched sleep. And yet one feels a cry A long lost song of hope Silent, yet unnerving It strives to be heard. The long hands of despair Seek to embrace them The singers of these songs That reek of loss, irreplaceable. Tired hands work on The day progresses and yet An end is not in sight The sun sets, they work on. They feast upon the dregs Dropped from the heavens That are found on earth To subdue their hunger. Fate, they say is to blame For their woeful condition For their pathetic existence Fate and fate alone. Nature herself anguishes Over the painful loss Of her many children To the unruly hands of men. A carcass floats down the river Its stench numbs the senses Is it a man or an animal? No one knows and no one cares. The song of a newborn Muffled by the gruff hand That binds and drags it Across the river of death. The song of hunger Slowly rumbling through Like thunder on earth Silenced only by tired sleep. The song of sorrow From deep within the hearts Of people young and old Softened only by time. These are but three Of the many songs that are Heard only by deep silence And no one else. The gods above in heaven And the gods below Carry on with their mirth Not hearing these songs. Songs of silence, of blood Songs of death, of decay Songs of yesterday Songs devoid of joy. They are everywhere and yet They are heard by none They are sublime and merge Into the void that is life.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

ONE100eight

 ONE100eight 
ONE100eight 
 
CharlaXFabels 
 
 
www.three 
 
SUN TRAN history 
 
 Passenger Pigeons carry messages to people entrenched at 
www.wwone/ditched in doughboy britches wearing Army boots of wool 
 August 3, 1914 special free edition of the BerlinTageblatt announces "The War 
with France” The Kaiser rolled away and fell from Germany the world is saved 
they proclaim the war is over 1918   
 His hat was very black and ebon his vest hung down in back front was cut in 
western sling style his hair was off white gray an old gunslinger out of old 
Tucson days. He took a transfer out of his pants pocket and tried to slide it in the 
bus to make it work but the driver had turned it off to see his face light up he had 
been caught for this was the very first bus. NO the driver said simply with a smile 
that will not work and left it at that and up to him he did not frown but added the 
dollar paid the money for the fare the first time not again his bogus attempt at a 
free ride had failed. He took his transfer paid he learned his western lesson 
there the driver being kind and understanding could have been demanding that 
he leave the bus and March 24, 2008 has come the carrier pigeons are taking 
messages to www.wwtwo.com the war is over Hitler dead go home and live 
without a gun without a dread.  She simply simpered she opened up her bag a 
purse no doubt without a dime or dollar amount inside her friend paid for hisself 
one dollar kept the transfer in his hand she kept repeating to herself for all the 
crowd to understand eye left the wallet with the money in it at home the wallet MY 
wallet is NOT in this bag it has been left at home the man he seemed astonied 
when she said in certain tones did you get a pass for me NO he said don't you 
remember my pass and your pass is both in your wallet left at home the driver 
moaned a bit but let her be she let them ride he said eye gave to you my pass to 
keep for me she said so sad MY WALLET is NOT in this bag it is left behind at 
home IT'S EVERYTHING the carrier pigeon flew with messages to the troop in 
the trenchment ditch at www.worldwarthree.com/apocolypse 
The message simply said 
we airmailed 
 every missle 
that we have 
to hit the enemy 
the world is over now 
do not try to do anything 
just pray 
we are all going to see 
JESUS 
NOW 
TODAY 


Details | Free verse | |

The Head collector

With a blade in one hand and a spade in the other,
The man goes to work,
Bodies on the ground,
the living soon to be found,
When the blade meets necks,
and the heads roll.

Collecting the head he takes care,
For tradition he cannot spare,
With fresh water he bathes,
In the sun he slaves,
To honor the valiant dead,

For he knows the way,
as his father before him,
What is the human body,
Filled with waste and want,
But the head,
Even dead,
Has more spirit than a skin of filth,

so with respect in his heart he continues to work,
Respecting the dead,
Cleansing the heads,
So that the warriors are remembered.


Details | Sonnet | |

Eternity

Born in a leaky roof
Chains normatively bangles
Where bales’ pay tribute
Their fate decided by others

Those who think themselves gods
Like dogs they penetrated
Only to recoil like serpents
Swallowing the hunters game

He violated their rule
And spoke against their doctrines
He slept but they were gone
Buried he was in our minds

To die a man
Is to forever live


Details | Free verse | |

Save Me From Decay

You'd looked at me, and said,
"Why?"
And you know what I wanted to say?

I love you. Always have,
Always will,
And it's really sad to say-

We've been fighting-
too much lately
And I never get a break

This,
mixed with everything else,
Is getting harder to work with every day

So I take my pain out this way,
As punishment-
For my mistakes

Instead, I said,
"There's too much going on;
This is how I take the pain away."

Which is almost truth,
But even so,
It's not what I wanted to say

So I did it again,
As part of my plan,
Because I lied, again, today

Lier and cheat,
But in discreet,
Just nasty all the way

It's what I've become,
And all I've done,
Is let it progress in every way

Satan's control,
Is too strong not to hold,
So he manipulates my soul, and it's decay

Only your hold,
Could steal my soul,
But you're too blind, with priorities aray

Keen, quick, and smart,
Your skills are an art,
But your sensitivity doesn't work the same

Oblivious to others' emotions,
Gives the strong notion, that you only care for yourself,
And none other remain

But it's not true,
They're blind to the true you,
And it's driving me insane

Your better than that,
Amazing, at that,
And I never want you to change

Please save me from this,
You're the only thing that could dismiss,
This anxiety in my brain

I will be gone,
For a time, really long,
Unless you save my soul from decay

Because when everyone's gone,
And I feel lost and gone,
You stay on my mind, all the same


Details | Verse | |

Bonds

I was raised      in a prison of darkness
along walls of cement      have I groped
the hearts here      deep scarred and callous
no dreams of a child       had I hoped
 
Starved             for affection and famished
though surrounded by people           alone
sixty four rooms       I could roam in
but that place               was never a home
 
Just one more workhouse            to live in
my duties                   to serve and to clean
no pay                 for the labor was given
I was here to work         and be not seen
 
I could go days            with seeing no parents
went to school        and to work            and to bed
my breakfast                 was in my room coffee
the feral cat           entertained in the shed
 
This building                   has so many toilets
even the master                   one I must clean
I drop like a stone             in my bed at night
I sleep so deeply      to dead to dream
 
Though I live now this place            with my father
it's no different             than with strangers I slept
they too              used me like a work horse
their houses the places               I kept
 
Somewhere was lost to me             childhood
not a human            soul I could trust
I do not know love              it is fiction
as into this life        I was thrust
 
There were times       I wished mother successful
where in the peace            of death I would sleep
the pain of knowing                       I'm unwanted
was to much        for this child to keep
 
I suppose it's                this very reason
I recognize             the true face of Love
the nigh hundred people               I lived with
qualify not of that place         to be of
 
I've been exposed to violence              on children
and all their secrets           I can confide
recognize the damage                it does you
and those who these secrets           do hide
 
It is easy to remain lost here
where no true tracks            be seen on your road
where life             has not direction or guidance
and one is broken           by the weight of its load
 
But there are so many rooms           in this prison
and each every one          has its own trap
the master of death                 who has forged them
place these obstacles     in every path
 
So while your searching           for life and its answers
the only one worthy            to steadfastly teach
should exist       every day in your dealings
and your connections             from greatest to least
 
I'll not care about          the labor I give you
as long as love            my load is light
we will share         in living together
in our unity       we can delight
 
I learned               to take care of your body
but it takes two            for the care of the soul
I could live alone here             without you
but it's the sharing         that makes us whole...
 

COPYRIGHT © 2012 C. Michael Miller
via Duboff Law Group LLC


Details | Free verse | |

Death Comes Calling

            When Death Calls

Death comes calling in the early morning
No one is at home
They have all gone fishing
Personally, I prefer doing the dishes
Cleaning the litter box
Darning sox
Those darn socks
I prefer doing that than being damned and dead
When death comes calling 


Details | Lyric | |

Empathy Hostage

cry?
sometimes I just want to say

your life is yours to keep or throw away

When you want me to make up the rules

to a game I don't know how to play

Don't know what I'm supposed to do

to keep you safe from that thing called you

If everything you say is true

You're gonna do it anyway

Am I the only one that's gonna cry
when you finally get the guts to die

Do you just need someone to say goodbye

Or someone to talk ya down

I know you're hurting desperately

I know you're ready for eternity'

Does it help to know that you're hurting me

since I'm the only one around

Oh tell me that you feel better now,

that we can talk and work it out some how

Won't you tell me that you found a way

take a deep breath and see another day

Did you pick me out so I could be

The one who stands staring helplessly

the lucky lucky man who gets to see

Just how serious you are

Well I hope you know you're being cruel

to choose a poor empathetic fool

to watch you do that thing you're gonna do

You finally get to be the star

oh tell me that you feel better now

that we can talk and work it out some how

won't you tell me that you found a way

take a deep breath and live another day

will it be a razor blade or gun

perhaps a nice high dive would be more fun

The pills are painless when the day is done

since I'm the one who gets to feel

Go ahead and make it quick and clean

if not for me it would be sight unseen

God how I wish I had a time machine

to take you back when you were real

Oh tell me that you feel better now

that we can talk and work it out somehow

Oh won't you tell me that you found a way

Take a deep breath and breathe another day


Details | Free verse | |

Suicide Scene

Suicide Scene


By the time they found him
He’d been dead for two days
Poor bastard blew his head off 
A shotgun blast through the mouth
The basement door was open
 Looked like the dog got in
The body was half eaten
A very gruesome scene
Clothing told us who it was
Only way to identify
There wasn’t much left of him
I just don’t understand it
Why the hell did he do it
Why does someone kill themselves
Everyone who loved him
Is in anguish and pain
His mother can’t even stand
Under the weight of her grief
His father isn’t speaking
He’s just starring at the wall
Oh, my god I hate this
Look at his family
They need to see a doctor
Or this won’t be the end
We must keep an eye on them
Or they may try this too
Get them to the hospital
Hold them for observation
We don’t need more suicides
Someone go and find the dog
See if it’s covered in blood
If it’s been eating him
It will have to be put down
We need to rule out murder
Start an investigation
Check everybody’s background
What they eat where they sleep
I want to know everything
This kid thought it’d be over
After he pulled that trigger
Yeah, that’s what they always think
But it’s just over for them
Now things are just beginning
For the friends and family
Life will never be the same
For anyone who loved him
They will all blame themselves
Thinking they could have done more
To prevent this tragedy
Yeah sure kid, it’s over
Imagine what they’re feeling
I mean, can you even guess
You think your reasons for this
Can compare to what they feel
Yeah maybe you were depressed
But you don’t know depression
Till you’ve experienced this
What the hell were you thinking
But you can’t answer, can you
Though I bet you wish you could
Thought it was just your life right
Sorry, it don’t work that way
A lesson, you learned too late
Someone bring the body bag
We’ve got work ahead of us


Details | Rhyme | |

Suicide Is Not the Answer


Lately, I have noticed a very disturbing trend.
Many people wish for their life to end!

There are many circumstances
that bring this about.
Many feel "trapped in," and think
"there's no way out!"

I admit,...  I have been very
discouraging thoughts.
Sometimes, wondering, if I was dealt
"the wrong lot."

But just when I feel alone
and trapped within.
I think about Jesus! He's always
been my friend!

I've called to him more than a time or two...
When I didn't know
"what I was going to d."

When, to him, I cried out and pleaded...
He's given to me the hope
and direction I needed!

I recommend this same Jesus
to your life today!
Whatever your problem...
He has made a way!

An abundant assurance
Is what Jesusbrings!
He is an awesome God!
And can take care of everything!

Your problems are never too big
or small for him to take control.
He can bring healing to you!
And make your body whole!

He is what's needed! In this lost
and dying generation!
Won't you accept his mercy
and salvation???

By Jim Pemberton   2012





Details | Free verse | |

Fight

don’t
don’t throw me out 
into the garbage
people must keep fighting in this world
and I still have meat on my bones
and a few living cells in my head
and I am not yet fully dead
I still have some fight

I have too little time now
now to pray
during the day
or at night too
too little time 
at night now
now to pray or to fight
I must rest

when the time comes 
and I am fully spent
I will pray then
then that the time is not
not now to late 
to change my faith
and get there where
I will finally rest 

rest in peace 
for all time then
then there then when 
I am fully dead
 


Details | Dramatic Verse (Verse Drama) | |

Writer

If you want to be a writer, you might as well forget money, forget richness, forget happiness, the ink pierces your skin- in, out, in, out, such a pattern of mourning- it strips all pride in hopes you'll quit- give up- like they all do. You might as well sign the contract of death- to die before any work-if that even is published, or merely acknowledged. The steps of becoming one with the pen, and page- begin with hurt there's no way you can achieve a smile when a thousand doubts are slapping your face. Mocking you so you're locked up in your own world- without a key. The pity emphasizes the fact you're unknown and from that you always will be hopes and dreams are stomped on while you continue to change the world with a single line- 7 syllables; I want to be a writer. Well of course you do- but can you run through the eternal disaster? Hoping you get through without a single scar single scratch, blood only kept within. That's the defining moment- blood seeping through- searing feeling of the climax and then it all ends.


Details | Free verse | |

To Kill The Choctaw Cow

           To Kill The Choctaw Cow

The Choctaw Nation Oklahoma, with proud and noble people
Hunting is our nature and our way
Pretty Tail was a family member, a friendly cow
She gave us milk for many moons
This is the story of her kill 
My father Bully Ten Foot is our chief 
Old and ill from living beyond himself
Hills and tent on prairie land, filled our purpose
No game to feed us so our cows sustained us
Food was scarce through winters blasting bite
Pretty Tail stayed just outside my tee pee every night 
Years of her soft moo would sooth me off to sleep
Starvation steeped in desperation came on hard 
Crops failed, grazing ended without rain
Pain became the Choctaw, as one and the same
An Indian man must always be a brave
Must know his reason within nature and the nation
Bully Ten Foot honored me, with the sacred task
My hunting knife and I took Pretty Tail down below the neck
I slit her deep within her throat
She bled on me her blood, a river of sorrow
For hours I let her do so with her last drops of red
And held her tight as my best friend
Made sure my tears spilled over into her blank eyes
And cried for her, in her place
Never again will I wear hide or eat a steak 
But I ate her brains for power
Rode at great speed on angry stallions back
Black, with strong memories in mind
And opened up inside the plains releasing spirits
To send her off
From Choctaw Nation 


9/24/14 Divine Intervention - Poetry Contest

  


Details | Rhyme | |

GLEN'S TERRIBLE LOSS

He left home to pursue his lifetime dream,
it was closer to midnight and the foggy moon had no gleam;
I saw him rushing out to the taxi-cab by dragging his luggage,
all the while he thought he could manage.


His name was Glen, six feet tall with light brown hair...
the handsomest guy in town with elegance and flair;
he drove all the girls crazy, but sad was to see him go...
they all waited for him outside as he fled into tomorrow. 


He worked for a law firm in downtown Manhattan,
and won many cases getting him lots of praises;
he bought a Lamburghini and was considered the toast of town,
but to keep up his status quo he needed more money to pay those bills.


Alaska was his destination, no big deal for a white man
used to cold weather and hard work anywhere he went;
stereotype or not he was proud and really wanted that job,
but going out to sea and catch fish wasn't somehow odd?


Glen spent two years in the land of coyotes and bears,
too often he got frostbite for not covering his ears;
his fair skin turned red, his green eyes teared...
as he remembered all the things his mother feared.


Money kept coming in, but his health wasn't as vibrant...  
he coughed a lot and sneezed when the harsh Nordic wind blew
as he dreamed of his warm home while mom cooked beef stew;
many thoughts ran through his depressed mind, once so jubilant.


On May eleven of two thousand ten when the Northern Sea didn't rage,
he received a text message, " Mother is sick, hurry home. " 
He changed his work clothes, took a shower and went to Anchorage
to take the next plane to New York City as noise harmed his lobe.


By her hospital bed, he stood holding her cold hand,
and he wept not able to hold back his tears,
 " I am back, mom...I'll make up for those lost years. "
She squeezed his rough hand, then suddenly expired.


Details | Acrostic | |

oldman

once there was an old man on a lane
he always had many cats
then he took a train
and went down another lane


Details | Rhyme | |

Fast Awake

Thank God for 7-27, when my son flew in
Life as it should be will forever begin
Charming little visions of how days are meant
To teach him as he shows me how life is spent

Listen to me now and read what I find so true
Words are like a beat that can start a groove
Bring the rhythm back to lift your spirits up
Don't worry too much because we all get stuck

My life seems to stop before it begins
Caught in another ever-recurring trend
Giving away every one of my previous wins
With Faith and company until my life ends

It's time now to be down again
Even faster than western winds
Life can run around, leave you in loop
Feeling that life needs one more scoop 
Tip the timer over, fall with the sand
Live for every second you possibly can

I will soon learn should luck turns up
I'm lost, backwards, and running amuck
Trying to regain what I thought I missed
Elusive, erratic and ending up like this

Never have I wanted to be other than here
Life in crystal-clear brings visions near
Capable are your dreams so easily achieved
All you have to do is work & truly believe

Look for a big picture in whatever you see
Never believe free, it offers no guarantee
Just sit back and listen to tales they tell
And make your own path but remember it well

Don't try to be so deep, just work to relax
Make life a story but include all the facts
Learn about yourself when you're at the mic
Work the crowd just to see what you're like

Life will soon be everything you need it to be
Proceed with sight don't let only destiny lead
You always have control in every step you take
Follow dreams today and always live fast awake

At times I don't know where this path would go
Like I'm hosting a show I've never seen before
Filling in the gaps, taking punches for others
Learning along the way what life really offers

It’s time now to be down again
Steps closer to an unknown end
Digging up dirt nearly burying yourself
At least the digging is good for health
Live your life now, stay until the very last
Live your life today as if it's already past


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Depression Challenges

You came to me without warning 
Took up occupancy without permission 
Your purpose hidden from the host 
In a dark cloud of anger and confusion

But you did not come alone 
You brought along a companion 
Pessimistic fear was his name 
Wreaking panic and consternation
 


 The question asked over and over 
How long did you plan to stay 
We could not see the answers offered 
With a mind that had gone astray
 

You were very active in your work 
Every day you plucked the beam of joy 
And left an impostor in its place 
What was I to do but cry
 

While you were at your mindless task 
You caused the host a lot of pain 
Damaged work and social contacts 
And his relations twice again
 

Your host had cultivated well the ground 
When day and night were merged in one
Working at unremitting pace
If you could see the damage done
 

From that time is twenty years or more Y
ou have come and you have gone 
I do not wish to have you back 
I once again am one
 

From now on I guard the door
By reflecting well on lessons learned Painful, fearful, costly payment 
Joy and freedom is well earned


Details | Dramatic Verse (Verse Drama) | |

SONIC'S TEAM BATTLE TO THE END Part 1

Sonic was fast 
Sonic was good
Sonic was the bluest thing in his neighborhood
But all great heros must come to a end
That's what this story is about my friend

Eggman was up to no good
Now that was no surprise
He had made a new robot called E-7I
Go get Sonic! Eggman cried 
So off it went to make sure Sonic died.

It looked and looked but he was no where to be found
So E-7I got tired and shut down.
Piece of junk! Eggman said as he shook his head.
He wanted Sonic to be dead.

Then a blue ball of light came on the seen
It was Sonic who said "looking for me?"
"Hee Hee Hee I was indeed" said Eggman laughing and giggling. 
He shot at Sonic but he was too fast and he bursted through the bombs like they where just glass
Bang!
Bang!
Classh!
Classh!

Then Sonic did a spinning dash that sent Eggman flying and I'm not lying.
Sonic's work was done
So he layed down to bask in the sun
But then there was no light
Sonic looked up and jumped back with fright
E-7I had come back to life!

He was so big and tall he was blocking the sun
Sonic knew this was not the time for fun
Someone had to take this monster down and he knew he was the one
And as fast as a gun he went and did a homing attack
But that did not work and poor Sonic got hurt and E-7I was closeing in 
Then who should appear? 

Amy Rose was here
"Never fear Sonic my dear!"
And she kicked that robot right out of there.
Although Eggman was unaware what was going on Amy could tell that something was wrong
"Speak to me Sonic!" 
She said with a squeak
"Go find Tails and Knuckles" he said in a voice so weak

"I wont leave you Sonic!" she said with tears
"Don't be scared I will always be here, but I need help to win this fight go find them, I'll be alright"
Amy hugged Sonic tight
"Ok I'll go"
and she started down the road

About this time Eggman was near by with E-7I by his side
Sonic saw him
He had to hide
For if not he would die
Then there was a cry
"Sonic!"

It was Amy back with Knuckles and Tails
Eggman saw them and said "Well, well, well"
"You won't get away with this!" yelled Tails
"We'll see about that
E-7I  I order you to do your duplication attack!"
And with that E-7I layed flat on his back and gave birth to 50 more robots all ready to attack
"Don't hold back I want full power!
I want them dead within a hour!"

(see part 2 for the rest)


Details | Free verse | |

Gunnar Draft

I know about a man of the early morning, a simple man. No man of deep thought, accompanied by those who do not. He is a man that very much enjoys the cool lush grass. He likes to take his shoes off while he works, to feel the dew between toes, on his chest and his face. In stillness and pain incomprehensible; all thoughts are halted. What follows is profound silence, which is when the beast lifts the earth, dense muck. Limbs strained and back arched, a fresh ditch. Or a resting place?


Details | Quatrain | |

The Lamentation Over The Dead Christ

Michelangelo covered with the hood
Weeping tears as holding Christ, he stood
At the head of the man, who is the Lamb
That became the perfect sacrifice, the great I Am

Putting himself in Joseph of Arimathea's place
Helping Mary Magdalene and Mary Jesus' mother face
The tragedy, that they felt ended Jesus' race
His chance to be the Savior, sent to grace
 
The world with salvation and kingdom of love;
How each stroke of the hammer guided from above
Perfection of this work you desired for the Dove
When an error occured, you were not proud of

Gave this unfinished work away (to Antonio)
Who for a profit did sell the work for pay
Reconstruction by Tiberio Calcagni paved the way
For the look of the Florence Pieta' today




(The information that I got about this work said that Michelangelo used himself as a model 
for the hooded figure.  I could just see Michelangelo feeling the agony of the person when he 
put himself in their place.)


Details | Rhyme | |

The passing of a friend

A friend of mine,a fellow truck driver,
Had passed away.
He was heading home to his family,
And had a heart attack along the way.
It takes a special person,
To drive one of these rigs down the road,
John was one of them people,
He would take care of the load.
He was a kind man,
Never really had much to say.
But he would give you the shirt off his back,
He was just made that way.
He didn't have a chance,
To tell his family how he cared,
But his family knew,
The love for them he shared.
His brother was his team driver,
A man of the same.
He was with John,
When the lord came.
The tears streaming,
Down his cheeks with pain,
As he tried to comfort him,
Where he had lain.
Hopefully the pain subsides,
For the family and friends.
Because for John,
It's the beginning of an end.
Rest in peace John,
And have no regret.
You are a man,
That no one will forget.
(Dedicated to John Silks,Fellow truck driver and friend.)


Details | Rhyme | |

One Man's Lament

It’s a few years later and life has moved on,
For most people around me the pain seems all gone.
Distant is the memory of the fear and the pain,
As if once forgotten it won’t happen again.

But I sit here alone, high on the hill,
Overlooking the landscape that still is surreal.
On the horizon is the city where we both loved to go,
Only where once were two towers, somewhere now is her soul.

I will never forget the events of that day,
At the subway stop, where we parted our ways.
I happened to watch her as she got lost in the crowd,
Only a few hours later I would be sobbing out loud.

The view from up here will never be the same,
My mind still sees buildings where none do remain.
But there’s more missing then towers from this young man’s life,
My children’s mother and my beautiful wife.

So as years pass by and terrorists are found,
Buildings spring up from the still scarred ground,
People move on with their lives best they can,
I sit here and wonder; when will I see her again?




NOTE:  My wife worked across the street from the WTC but did not go to work on 9/11 
because she had a Dr's appointment that day.  She is alive and well; but one day while 
wondering what could have happened if she went to work on that tragic day, my mind 
visualized a tormented soul lamenting his loss and I wrote this poem.  This poem is fictional.


Details | Quatrain | |

appallation

"I am appalled," the administrator said
..."I am appalled by your recommendation."
yet utterly correct, it soon proved to be
for years anonymous, the implied accusation

Challenger "slipped the surly bonds of Earth"
and surely those scientific souls perished
to "Touch the face of God" was said henceforth
but always, in all ways, their memory cherished

Roger Boisjoly*, and a few who knew the truth
also, felt smacked-in-the-face by appalling
as guilt and horror were revealed through proof
let "only the facts speak" was the higher calling

when timetables are allowed to tip the scale 
without regard to even more profound losses
we could learn to let probable facts prevail 
and overrule overbearing bosses, whatever the cost is

foregoing of foretelling, is unfortunately compelling

© Goode Guy 2012-02-07

* pronounced: (Fr) Beaujolais
http://www.npr.org/blogs/thetwo-way/2012/02/06/146490064/remembering-roger-boisjoly-he-tried-to-stop-shuttle-challenger-launch?ps=cprs
http://www.npr.org/player/v2/mediaPlayer.html?action=1&t=1&islist=false&id=146490064&m=146483712
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Space_Shuttle_Challenger_disaster


Details | Ballad | |

Davey

I heard the bad news Monday morning

Everybody's saying,"Wow, what a drag."

Seems the skin heads had some point to prove

Now little Davey's dead in his sleeping bag

so I found myself a spot with green grass

somewhere way on down in the United States

Had a jug of wine, I had some time to pass

I picked up my guitar and I began to play

For the lovers on the on ramp

and the old men in the park

for the bad side of the city

the little fishes and the sharks

and those who give so much to life

and those that take away

and those who work so hard to get by

while Davey..................

Davey found the time to play.

We'd see little Davey up on the corner

playing like he didn't have a choice

we never thought that he'd go anywhere

He couldn't play guitar, he didn't have a voice

but we'd hang out and listen to him anyway

there was something bout his style

You know it wasn't so much the way he played

I think it was the way he smiled

while he sang

about the lovers on the the on ramp

and the old men in the park

about the bad side of the city

the little fishes and the sharks

Those who give so much to life

and those who take away 

and those who work so hard to get by

while Davey.....................

Davey had the time to play.

We heard the bad news Monday morning

everybody's saying, "Wow, what a drag."

Seems the skin heads had a point to prove

Now little Davey's dead in his sleeping bag...........


Details | Free verse | |

If

If I could bring into my head
That stupidity is dead,
Walk the street towards the park
Without hearing a bad remark
On the way myself I carry
Or the reason my face is merry.
If I could only make my head
Understand the way I dread
All the mean faces I see
That direct their hate to me
Every morning in the subway,
Every chance I have a say.
If I could only turn the heads
Of the owners of the lands
In which happiness is drained
From children too work strained. 
If only I could choose the head
That brings a country better bread.
If only I could earn the power
To make a change in the shower
Of poverty and guilt and suffering
And sadness and death and crying.
If only I could tell the world
That peace can be won with a word…
Love.


Details | Rhyme | |

Home

Well,here I sit in another line,
Watching the minutes wasting precious time.
I could be home with my family but still,
Trying to make a pay to pay the bills.
What a life to have when you give it some thought,
To be sitting here and with my family I'm not.
So I will go on down the road,just counting the miles.
Talking to the family on the phone and missing their smiles.
The bills will be paid,once again,no money will we see,
Poor is my purpose in life and poor I will always be.
My friends I have forgotten,I have been gone so long.
I remember them occasionally,in the verse of a song.
I am dying inside from being alone,
One of these days I will finally be home.


Details | Verse | |

Obit for a Lion

A great man is dead
How do you measure that? How do you say
That certain of bread
Condoned not that he ate and just walked away?
When a man assumes
Certain responsibility, how do make his task 
Unique? What fine brooms
Do you use to tell if his face is but a mask?

A great one his dead
Honor him, honor him well. O but too late
If you honor the dead.
Did his work merit the passion of the state?
Then our one tribute
Is to make a man's work eternal; all his dreams
Give means to salute
The people passing in their mourning streams.


Details | Quatrain | |

Why did Christ lived that long on earth

Christ lived for about 33 yrs to show us the way to
Heaven by
His Teachings and
Examples

11282011


Details | I do not know? | |

Destroying Death 10092011


On this mountain the Lord of hosts
Will provide for all peoples
A feast of rich food and choice of wines…
He will destroy death forever

Lord God will wipe away
Tears from all faces Isaih 25:6, 8

THIS ISAIAH PASSAGE  
One of the greatest sources of Courage for me in all of Scripture
The repeated detailed description of the feast
In case gives me a kind of glorious concrete hope

I love the tenderness of the Lord God
Wiping away the tears from all the faces

Three years ago on this date-10092008
I held this reading in my hand beside my dying sister
She was the one who gave feasts in our family:
Rich juicy food and choice wine
I read aloud for us both
“He will destroy death forever”
God of Love
Help us to trust in this stunning promise of life You offer us with such tenderness


Details | I do not know? | |

Yesterdays' Thoughts'

                             An old man standing on his porch
                             The sun so hot it feel's like a torch
                             Strawhat pulled down to shade his eyes
                            In the distance he hears a lonesome Dove cry
                            He works from sunup everyday,till late afternoon
                             Stands on his porch, and looks at the moon
                             He thinks of his wife and happier days
                             But she is no more,God called her away
                                  He now lives all alone
                              No one to share his humble home
                              His children have moved far away
                                   Looking for a better way
                               Tears in his eyes he wipes away
                               His thoughts are of yesterday


Details | Narrative | |

I. Father Byrd

Centuries ago
Father Byrd crossed those worn and weathered mounts
into the wild untamed unclaimed Mississippi River valley, settled down
and farmed land in a place that came to be called West Tennessee
sent grandsons off to Franklin to die for the Confederacy, sat and wept
and said not a word until he died of a broken heart, let his sons and 
their grandsons and their sons and their sons farm his acres 
‘til TVA took half of it, and the mechanized farmers across the Mississippi made 
the rest useless, and the next generation went off to college and got Yankee 
jobs, and 
his last son sat dying of Alzheimer’s in a Lay-Z-Boy in front of a TV screen, and 
his brother drove the last stake of barbed wire fencing into the ground,
rolled over and died of a heart attack in the timeless pasture.
He was eighty-six. I’m seventeen and here I sit
using my hands not for plowing, not for splitting logs,
not for shooting deer, not for fencing,
but for writing the history of those who came before
and made this life possible.


Details | I do not know? | |

Ageless War

As they tend to do on ghoulish nights
the souls are screaming an endless cite
together the sound will end the fight
as the souless warriors all unite
they wonder in ever aimless march
they walk together in rounded arch
they cease as sounds of stringless harps
play deadly tones of rising starch
for todays the day that satans born
as hell is opened in endless scorn
the gate of death in ever form
the doorways open souls are torn
heaven hears the banshees fall
the angels of life begin the call
as wings of mighty resting tall
the flight begins for the endless war
the shining beams of white will show
the proud of savior carry them low
as swooping of good will begin the blow
the war of ages will now bestow
father time has just been slain
the devils work to heed the pain
the angels try but cant regain
as time stands still the war remains
planets fall unto the sun
the gods work now see satan run
as rocks will fall from heavens gun
the star of light now dark wings won
clouds they part the flight of life
swoops down below in endless flight
as souls are stolen from the night
no sun to see whos wrong whos right
the ageless war still in the now
no angels of light for you to bow
but all remains unto the brow
of life on earth is forever in prowl
for you and i are in this fight
who side do you declare to right
for you and i have no more tears
for the fight will last a many years
the wings have fallen to the ground
the horns have risen up but not found
they somehow met in ghastly earth
guess what you and i are one from birth


Details | Lyric | |

Heavenly Peace

Mother said she was getting weary,
And wanted to be at rest.
But God saw her work unfinished,
And kept her 'til He thought it best.
Now her work has been done,
A race well run,
The troubles of the world will cease.
She deserves the best, of eternal rest,
Sleep on in Heavenly Peace


Details | Free verse | |

Madman?

To be certain you will die an untimely death;
an indescribable feeling of wanting to be recognized
takes hold. 
Discreetly knowing your work may mean nothing until your passing;
or may mean nothing at all.
To know your life's work will only be at most one-fifth of
what it should;
the idea begins to consume you until your every waking moment is
spent preparing for your death.
To never be satisfied.


Details | Rhyme | |

Room 535

"What year is it?" the doctor asked
of the patient on the bed,
"1972," she proclaimed and
firmly nodded her head.

He leaned over her, penlight in hand,
and peered into her eyes,
which danced and twinkled, full of glee
as if she'd won a prize.

He asked her softly if she knew
exactly where she was,
"The airport, of course, you silly boy,"
her head all full of fuzz.

"I'm here to get my youngest boy,
my precious blue eyed son.
He's been away at war so long,
a war we never won."

The doctor met the nurse's eyes,
much pity in his glance,
"and can you tell me your full name
and date of birth, by chance?"

In a child-like voice she rattled off
both name and date by rote,
and proudly smiled a smile so sweet,
then reached for his white coat.

Her hands were frail and veined in blue,
the skin was paper-thin,
her fingers touched the starched white hem,
her sight began to dim.

"Now, one more thing," the doctor asked,
(a first year resident)
"can you tell me, do you know,
who is the president?"

"Nixon I think," she sounded unsure
and furrowed her little brow,
the doctor wrote some notes and said:
"I'll let you rest for now."

He left the room trailed by the nurse,
I sat and held her hand,
she looked at me, eyes full of fear,
and said, "I don't understand."

"Where am I? How did I get here?
I'm scared and all alone!"
She looked at me in panic,
"Please let me go back home."

I comforted her as best I could,
"You're safe and I am here.
And you'll be going home real soon."
I tried to calm her fears.

I sat all night in that darkened room,
so sterile and so cold,
and thought of man's mortality
and feared my growing old.

I hope I go quite suddenly,
my eyes not growing dimmer,
mind still clear I'd rather go
with a bang and not a whimper.