Black squirrels bound skewways
from the house, shadowshifts
falling darkly on
dusty white autumnal
snow. Paw prints run
makeshift memories soon
snowed over. Leaping
on tree trunks they wind their
way upward on paths of birch
bark in quick roundhouse runs.
I watch them go from
a seat by the door
and eavesdrop on the
dripping eaves trough. Icicles
hang like stalactites
The heater blows dry
air over my face as
dust rides recirculated
draft flows and floats upward
in a beam of magnetic
light. A thin frosting
of human sloughcells
settles on the windowsill
in a regiment I
attack with the duster
before they regroup and
resettle. Single cells
born of a single self. I
pace circles on the
fading cream carpet.
You lay down with a man
For the very first time
Unknowingly conceive a child
That will soon die
And now you can’t figure out why
You didn’t make him wear protection
So you wouldn’t end up pregnant
And to save your body from infection
Now this child who deserved a chance
Will die before become a fetus
You could have taken care of that child
Or given it to family you could trust
But this one night
Of infatuation and lust
Brought about unplanned pregnancy
But you choose not to
Face up to your responsibility
You go and abort this child
Without thinking twice
But you know in your heart
That its just not right
You’re only sixteen
But what does that mean?
You were old enough to spread your legs
And old enough to have a man in your bed
But can’t take care of a child
You had without being wed
So because of your naïve childish ways
Your baby never got to see
The light of one day
The floor drips towards the sky.
The walls fall, the seats rise.
With every emotion the room reacts.
Silence, the theatre has always lacked.
Blood, sweat, and tears backstage are shed from the actors,
But all the audience sees is happiness and laughter.
The Stage tells the stories, and no one believes.
They ask, “How could people so dismal create something so happy?”
The Walls and the Ceiling back up the Stage’s claim,
But everyone that hears it says it’s a lie, and walks angrily away.
The actors aren’t happy that their secret got out.
At the theatres Walls they scream and shout.
They yell things that can never be unsaid,
Then go home satisfied, and turn into bed.
The theatre could never house people so dark,
So it shuts its doors with a loud bang, and locks everyone out.
The droplets of rain drip on the roof covered ceiling.
The Stage and the Walls begin the process of healing.
The house today is empty still, shut out from everything and everyone.
Though many have tried, no one has succeeded in making the Theatre and the actors once again one.
The world is a platform
And the people the audience
Waiting for you to perform
You are a star
Your inspiration their reform
Hope you could do your best
Stand up and be counted
Be the first
There are difficulties
But forget the worst
The world is your guest
So go higher
Yeah higher than mount Everest
For if you perform right
You steal the spot light
And you don't just win
The people but their heart
The audience cheers you up
Like you are the king
And all the women
Dieing to be your queen
Money is not the thing
You started lately
But you are doing greatly
Forget about the rest
And do your best
I see people of different race and culture
so calm and calculative i stare like the vulture.
I see mothers with babies strapped to their backs-
and men with goods in woven sacks.
I see the child with the hope of tomorrow,
so do i see the old with tears of sorrow,
all these that i see-
is nothing but guts and glee.
Apples and Azaleas are always around.
Bright beautiful buds bloom while
crisp cultured cabbage and cucumbers
dot the darkened dirt.
Every edible is excellent.
Fame is so far flung for
Grandma's glorious garden that
Handy Horticulture has offered to hire her.
Imagine, envision her incredulity of their insistence.
Just another jovial, jocular juncture in Grandma's jubliant journey.
TLH © 07-11-2012
< Banana ~ boat ~ Bob ~ is ~ a ~ slippery..... Boob
Thought ~ that ~ this ~ town ~ lost ~ it's .... groove
No ~ spice ~ no ~ life ~ no .... nothing
Little ~ lost ~ boy ~ now ~ looks ~ for ~ his ~ Lucy's .... ring
When ~ where ~ what ~ or ~ even ...... why
I'll ~ inquire ~ insist ~ innovate ~ or ~ even ..... lie
His ~ history ~ of ~ having ~ such ~ big ....... hamstrings
Maybe ~ even ~ mighty ~ magical ~ musical ~ fruits ~ and .... greens
Or ~ having ~ big ~ over-sized ~ onions ~ olives ~ and ..... Kiwi
screw ~ this ~ he's ~ scum ~ skewered ~ tossed ~ back ~ to ... sea
Poor ~ precious ~ pretty ~ Lucy ~ got ....... pranked
Cause ~ curious ~ Bob ~ couldn't ~ control ~ love ~ so ~ he .... sank
All ~ alone ~ and ~ now ~ very .... angry
Drowing ~ deep ~ in ~ own ~ do-do ~ droppings .... whopie
Luscious ~ Lucy ~ now ~ can ~ look ~ long ~ and ...... hard
For ~ another ~ fast ~ floating ~ free ~ salemens ~ not ~ selling.... lard
Luscious Love Lingers Contest
The streets are busy with silence,
And Sammy is in his own little world,
Focused on his own private route.
His own secret place,
Private, it’s a funny word,
A funny word just like, secret,
Sometimes we fail to realize how we carelessly carry our secrets on our sleeve.
Sammy wants his feelings, emotions, his life to be hidden away,
Still, in the silence of the streets,
I see the sadness and stress all over his stance.
The shops are packed with stillness,
And Sammy is doing his job, keeping stands tidy,
Keeping customers happy,
Making his manager proud,
Happy, it’s a strange word,
A strange word just like proud,
Feelings for ourselves that we sacrifice for the satisfaction of strangers.
Sammy thrives on the temporary moods of others to determine his contentment,
Yet, in the stillness of the shops and the silence of the streets,
I see the sadness and the stress all over his stance,
In each fragment of his face.
Between the shops and the streets,
Sammy finds a place that he can refer to as home,
But in the silence and the stillness of his slow beating heart,
He understands that something greater than his being is missing.
And Sammy needs a friend, a friend to show him the truth.
A friend to show him that in the stillness of the shops and the silence of the streets,
He carries sadness and stress all over his stance,
In each fragment of his face, and in each shy shift of each shoulder,
For one reason, and one reason alone.
He’s missing one more word oozing sibilance,
The one word that completes, this poem and will fulfill his life.
What is our purpose?
Why are we here?
Why are we here left in fear shedding all these tears
starring at this demond in this mirrior
blinded by everything I see so clear
where am i going after this life? and is it near?
people always always saying swagga shut up stupid clowns
I see all you frowning behind that fake smile
I can help all im spreading the word around my town
to make you turn that frown upside down
they have you in the palm of there hands cant you see it?
If it wasnt for them we wouldnt be asking all these bulls*** questions
and not to mention who are you to be asking me who im reppin
you should get hit in the mouth but
before all that idiotic violence let me talk to you.....
they got you all so corrupt but yall dont know so you dont give a f***
they have you like a trout with a kook caught in its mouth some slip and get
away there the lucky ones who can actually say
I have truly been saved
I have to be brave and put up a fight till the end of my days
they say im headed in the wrong direction but thats the governement
there just like a nasy infection
theyll always be here picking at your brain saying all the answers are in this certain section
always saying dont use Jesus's name in vain but every king has his rain
all loss through out years to come its people like me that will put your name to shame
am i satanic NO these are just my devilsh thoughts
theres turning back im self sustained put in this hell knowing very well that i shall rise above all these brainless people that are stuck in this hell get out of that brainwashed shell
to escape this long life lasting jail not knowing you are rotting in this cell
I really do care about my people
the government they dont there the true definition of evil
they work for lucifer so they do what they have to, to get thier share
piece the puzzle and you will find it
Jesus Christ is luccifer he has all you misguided he himself and his dominions where all behind it.
Busty Betty beguiled the besotted boys
Painfully plain Polly puzzled over her plight
Dapper Dan discovered the delights of drive-ins
Blushing busty Betty before long began to bulge
Polly perceived her problem and preceded
To point the poor papa and his problem to the priest