Somebody keeps pulling on the rope to swing the bells
Don't touch it. Don't say it. Don't do it. Don't doubt it. Don't think.
Somebody handcuffs my steps. Somebody determines my boundaries.
Before I fully understand free will, there is a slap on my head
and phosphenes like stars that command my orbit.
Before I can recognize differences, there is a slap on my hand
right hand, not left hand...never ambidextrous;
and time out is isolation without a trial...and I learn
the fear of wrongdoing
remote-controlling my existence,
conditional on demand, predesigned
An aborted freedom escaping into the sewer
trying not to get it on the seat
I'm the observer of other lives, not mine
tied up and chained, in captivity
attempting to prove an alibi
for being alive.
No one cares
not even myself
Somebody pulls on the rope to swing the bells
It's dirty. It's ugly. It's bad. It's poo. It's sin.
commitments, commandments... Commandments, Commitments
Sometimes deception makes them ring in a low tone. Sometimes
I do what they say, and not what they do, and not what I want, and not what I think.
Through fragments of this duplicity,
and this duplicity,
I would be able to rebuild myself,
and Myself, into another hypocritical being;
and the intentional perversion of the self proclaimed truth,
or the liar paradox,
will be sovereign
leading to the use of tricks and cotton swabs.
When the remorseless hours run counterclockwise,
I would be happy through imaginary experiences,
consistently believed to be true.
Would I dare to examine the society in which I've been educated and raised?
Would I dare rip my skin...my flesh off of my bones?
How could I blame them? How could I possibly judge them?
Order and obedience in confabulation...in conspiracy...in complicity
If somebody keeps pulling on the rope to swing the bells
If I'm the only one guarding my own cell
If I'm the jailer, and the convict, and the crime.
Authored by Chuck Keys
It had no color,
Lacking shape, size and dimension.
It wasn't moving or breathing.
There was neither aroma nor taste, not here or there.
Touching was useless because it wasn't physical.
It was indistinct and limitless.
Multi-sensually and multi-psychologically
It wasn't here or there and it was.
With no distinction,
It looked like everything else,
Or it could not have looked like everything else.
It never made me feel good nor bad,
Nor happy nor sad
Nor quite nor trite.
In our world of joy and destroy, we sort and distort,
Looking more on the surface and less on the inside,
Ready to judge and be judged from outside in.
The "oneness" of mankind stretches beyond definitions and limits,
From outside to inside and from inside to outside.
We are one distinct and alike world of "oneness."
Differences exist for differences,
Therefore, differences don't exist.
Only "oneness" exists.
This poem is dedicated to Dr. Clayborne Carson and The Gandhi-King Community,
For Global Peace with Social Justice in a Sustainable Environment.
Come with me my Brother,
to a secret place where Light and Shadow line the face with fear and grace,
leave sophmoric style, wry smile and sly bile on the road of your forgotten mile,
sick sarcasm is the symptom of envy, a pet to your heart destroyer,
such artifice and malice have no language in this room of roasted dreams,
Enter through the damaged door, touch the destruction of vandals,
you have never been here before, where gold blood cuts the floor,
do you see how the walls move like squalls at our approach,
feel how they tell stories with the sensations of defeat, anxiety, impropriety,
in here we witness a collection of seperate yet synthesized segments of Self,
childhood torment, shallow manhood, virility limp as stolen victory,
underachievement, the underbelly of your arrogance, flacid like placid passion,
We journey further into this gallery of emotional gallows
smelt by the hurt of innumerable adavances
repelled by the demands of Quality,
you will writhe wildly
from the harrowing healing leeching into your concepts of self control,
graceful in absorbtion of Truth's attrition,
fruitless ambition shall now cling as cleaving contrition,
your face Brother, look long into the shimmer of sorrow become the old,
tattooed you are like a snake's skin checkered and beautiful
with scaled episodes of submission and aggression, dying to be Divine,
I want you to know that there is no exit of ease from this place Brother,
we trek within your very Soul,
this is the home and harbor of everything you've decided to be,
there are other rooms here, some of joy and some of strife,
but you leave not the Truth Room of your anger
until the Light finds no fault in your intention -
Democracy now that is a laugh
When the voting is all stacked with graft
And I will give you a plug
If you punch out that lug
If you believe me you’re really daft!
You say you’re poor and you’re not real able
To put food and some bucks on the table
Just right say the rich
Starve and don’t *itch
Or drop by and muck out my stable!
Grad’s from Vassar and Yale all abhor
Those in Appalachia with dirt floors
But they own the coal mines
And their wealth is refined
They won’t mess up their minds keeping score.
You can’t get a real education
In this righteous American nation
Well go read a book
Or go shoot a crook
Rise to your appropriate station!
Recycled souls have
Many chances; many lives
The wheel of life turns
Education takes some time;
Humans are quite forgetful.
I was a bright, outgoing boy, who sat at the front of the class.
Then, one day that all changed, i feared to even raise my hand for a pass.
I had many close friends, loved sports and school plays.
Then on that day fear beset me, and long gone were those days.
I remember my school, i knew it inside and out.
But now i have blank spots, certain things i've shut out.
Thanks to God and His mercy, i don't recall that foul act.
But i know that it happened, no doubt, that's a fact.
Now, to the person who did this, i have nothing to say.
But, my God will remember, and He'll get you someday!
Resounding echoes awaken the child
demons in the attic beckon unto him
stark fear grips his Vick's laden chest
shivers vibrate rusty springs of down
footsteps creak closer upon loose floorboards
while steamed filled pipes play taps
a somber teddybear snarls
causing the world to be still
foolish nuns, God doesn't want to "get me"
the sting of a ruler splinters a left hand
blood spurts upon faces of laughter
evil little boy too wicked for a mother
affliction runs in the family
Florence became flop because she always fell
polio never whipped her ass
just abused her now and then
she healed with a smile
Even humility has its price
Jimmy Dean wore sunglasses
maybe his eyes were bloodshot
or maybe he was a child of an alcoholic
and they became part of his attire
degenerate eye disease, masturbation
spattering or battering
does it really matter when you can't see
or understand the difference between ADD and ADHD
Psych 101: Crack can be Prozac
Iron gates surround a new residence
protecting the innocent who peer from outside
rehabilitation means refining bad habits
like those on the outside who have mastered them
twelve years of bars and games people play
provide an education unto itself
seclusion can be the deciding factor
between murder or suicide
self righteous judges choose life
recidivism is a revolving door
of vicious cycles with no engines
only propellers called co-dependants
or co-defendants, take your pick
life repeats itself over and over
only the circumstances change
yet the merry-go-round stops
when the flowers are arranged
Why are most tombstones gray
scared, afraid to die
are you saved?
from what, ourselves
you can't hurt me
Bob Shank-Nov. 30th, 2006
Primose path leads to the slaughter of American
dream delete pause proficiency with internetty
webbegone after thoughts of yahoo googleyed
interred intracacises that shed benign capsules of
mom entary apple pie delquiences cooling
the soul shopping for the next alias avenue of
pointless me procurement mauling an ongoing
onerous dildodate vis a vie meme.com/me in
an engaging omnipresence of sextext no tact
spell ckeck chicshicshakplak no sense tic tac.
Talk? Walk? Balk? Chalk? Sue? Sulk?
Dinosaur diligence posse with the senior
gestages gestulating, we r forevre 21 and ying yang
dung. Yes, good f ing luck with that!! Look at your
petridish parents and see what box u check to lid close
and abscond with the lost liberal leftovers. That
is you in reverse in a few carnal years after Hilter youth
children decide to screw us as the new
generation which skewer post present parental postulates
to the oldster outhouse outlets so u can be "youf" free. Little
do they notknow as they cumulatively co opulate
that they set the stooge stage for no thanx ahole actions.
The DOS does'nt fall from the Apple tree. Leave it,
love it, learn it while ye may, the kid crisp cosmos of
offspring social dicktates are biting at your heartbeatbit
empty elmo enterprises. Pause parenatal prenatal
preferences prepearing perinatal persons pretasking
postnatal practices, in which you have veno papa preparation.
Think before you For Unlawful Carnal Knowledge and Analyze
your ass-incarnate initiate. Borrow berofe u basterdize,
condomize before u copu culminate, decide before
u dicktate, envision before u envy, fail before u foil,
grasp before u germinate, halt before u hinder,
illuminate before u illerate, jump before u jinx,
kill before u keep, love before u lay, meaning before
moaning, neutralize before u now, obilerate before
u ooops! presence before predicament, quit before
quake, resilience before ridiculous, sanity before
sexusensuality, thinkth before u thumpth, utilize
before u unionize, victory before victimization, we
before want, xx nor xy, zen before zeal. Pocket
passion files fly in the face of ruined reason residules
to the point of pronounced perplextion plagued
prominantly with no recall references to problematic
protocals for near north normalicies in my buckeye
life measures of simpatico silly symbiosis sublime
of mini me monophile mucous made misdemeanor
milktoast memories. Pass go, collect $200.
Today, upon the ground, I found a rusted nail.
Red and yellowed since its use,
It was caked and swollen; cracked lines top to bottom
With one turn in its body where last it was removed.
And the head was tilted slightly from a blow
Received when it was first employed and put to use.
I pondered of the purpose it had served
And the structure it had helped to hold and form.
I recognized its shape having spent many days
With hammer in my hand and blueprint in mind.
I have straightened many that were pulled and bent
And drove them to serve purpose.
Once this nail had value and function was providence.
Now, it fills a wrinkle of my palm
And leads me to wonder….
What will someday become of me?
Will a member of the generation born this day
Look upon me and speculate my past,
And weigh my usefulness against my keep?
Will I present as bent?
And, will the balding gray and shortened step
Persuade them I have passed my day of worth?
Or, will they look about their world
And see what I have made?
So much from just one rusted nail.
4th place in "Darn I Wish I Wrote This" on 6-26-12
A burst of white light
gamma rays, overbearing
a flash of brilliance
burns through to my soul
everything is like hell
the world starts to melt
in the blink of an eye
just the cold blackness
I don't care if I am not again
what I once was, for at this moment
I am greater now
than ever before
I took the path between
teetering, tight roping walking
right up to my right
divined in my unholy state
I thought I told you
I am your king
still you sit there, hesitating
I know you hate me
what does that mean?
I hate just about everything
still I'm chosen
I did not wish before
now bow down to me
refuse me no more
for I shall always be your demon
until you accept me as your King.
I don't even know you
though you say we used to be
best of friends, you and me
the day you ditched me
I remember now
exactly how it played out
back when we were just tiny things
even back then I still was King
you thought me stupid
just a ruse
I would laugh inside, you see?
not one of you single, mean people
ever even knew me
in a world, mostly seen to me
that is why only I can be your true King
and bring forth a new source
of light everlasting.
As two worlds collide slowly aligned
one wrapped in shadows
one bathed in white
evils swirling in the clouds above
I'll always be the king you love
to hate or despise as in your blood
I thought I told you, I am the one
I am the way, the way out shall be shown
breathe in my spirit as it carries you away
breathe in my faith it shall carry your empty space
and deposit you gently on a cloud just enough
higher than you've ever dreamed of
for I am king now, and your in my hell
your in my imagination, I'll just never tell
you'll feel as though dreaming, you'll feel now
if you try and see
you were always found the most
shared in the light cast upon me
the last bright star in heaven.
Denounce my name, if you may
One year later, still not afraid
A black sheep, a darkened spade
That's just life, I'm not right
I'm in the wrong, follow along
Like a piper, I'll pitch a song
Mesmerized, the weak wills sing
I thought he told you, he's still our king.
A WORD IN A BOOK
No book is written with one word
No matter how vital it may appear
For that we carefully have to think
Every word, for the book, is so dear
A verb, an adjective, a noun one may be
That describes what we are and do
Or he is a period, a colon or a comma
That emphasis puts and gives us a clue
Each of us a meaningful role plays
In life’s voluminous book sublime
On the chapter titled “Humanity”
In the paragraph of space and time
None of us more significant must feel
From the other words next in line
Regardless how trivial they may seem
It is them that our functions define
Our gratitude to all words around us
At every instance we have to show
For without their valuable presence
We would never be able to glow
What kind of a word “king” would be
What sort that of a “general” of glory
If “subjects” and “soldiers” were not there
To assist them write their story?
© Demetrios Trifiatis
01 NOVEMBER 2013
Ain't a word, you said.
but it takes a daring gust
for things start to be.
Metaphysical Moment (The Haiku)
Metaphysical Moment …
… Nature’s Mysteries
This Haiku is for:
The Haiku Master ‘Raul’ Moreno
Metaphysical Poet Extraordinaire’ (smile))
How did you feel when you woke? Were you frightened or lonely, or was your heart broke?
Do you feel alone or sometimes afraid? Is it clear that your life’s not meeting the grade?
Do you feel uncomfortable in your own skin? Do you feel that you’re losing, but just want
Are you having remorse about what could have been? If so, then it’s time to grab paper and
Jot some things down you’d like to achieve. Then read them each day and start to believe.
We cannot go back and change the past! Standing still today, just won’t last.
So get ready, prepare, and take care of your needs. It’s time to firmly plant His seeds.
Start with yourself and the rest will follow. I know right now it’s hard to swallow.
Be gentle and patient, for there is no doubt, you’ve been hurting so long, both inside and
If you know in your heart that something’s askew, you must be willing and ready to start anew!
There’s help for you along the way. You’ll receive it for sure, so start to pray.
Dear God, Please show me where to start. To You, I know I must open my heart.
So say each day, “Thy Will Be Done”, and you’ll see it, I’m sure, but just don’t run.
Be open and willing to hear and see, all that He is calling you to be.
Follow His signs and stay on the road, and when you ask He’ll help bear the load.
Don’t bring excess baggage for this trip. Keep it simple, you see or you just might slip.
You need to remember to stay on track. Once you start, hold nothing back.
For the new road you find is the only way. You’ll get there soon, if you just don’t stray.
Now is the time for discipline and prayer. You’ll start to believe you’re in His care.
As you practice and try to do the right things, you’ll be eager to see what the next day
Your life will be flooded with joy and gladness, and you’ll know he’s there in times of
Life is still life, but just stop and think. Nothing is solved by making a stink!
So put all your worries in God’s hands today! There’s no reason to keep them, let go and
I know that miracles do come true. Have faith and His promises will be given to you.
©October 17, 2006
envision harmony and mental clarity
focus on a journey of possibility
Meditate on transformation and
awareness of inner state
peace and healing
instruct your mind
to redirect the lost and struggling inner voice
Where you can’t see the wood for the trees
under your nose is the path of freedom
Put aside perceived struggles
revitalize, relax, respond
to body, mind, heart and spirit
Intuition, introspection and spiritual renewal
bring about personal healing and
Stillness of mind – concentration
Thoughts of the subconcious and subliminal
beyond all negativity
away from all interuption
To allow time for self communication and
expression of inner self
Senses – awareness of scent, sight, sound, taste and touch
Healing hands of the medical profession or alternative therapy
ambiance, temperature, oils, music, sounds and
sights of nature or universe
realisation comes in various form and shape
causing us to feel life in fullest expression
Connecting – whispers of wind
radiating everpresent warmth of sun
a blanket of love and light comforts consoles over and through the cosmos
rippling infinately through infinity outwards, onwards
connecting right back into where we are at right now
unmoved unchanged and as we were
Wise – responsible courageous allowed to let go of need to be judgemental or
let go of controlling enable trust wisdom and humility
intelligence of knowing others
wisdom of knowing self
strength in mastering others
power to master oneself
Energy -breath, force, spirit, soul, God, universe –
whatever – doesn’t matter how you refer to it on personal level
energy, balance, light, sound, vibration, peace
centered self – stillness – silent – eternal –
to have enough is a richness in itself
accept appreciate and acknowledge oneself
YOU’RE THE WEAK ONE
You’re the weak one, you’re a bully. The weak one is definitely
The bully is always the weak one, but your weakness you can’t
seem to see.
So, I’m going to try to shed a little light on your weak and inappropriate ways.
Your weakness began on your first bullying day.
Your false sense of power is not strength at all; it is a cry for help desperately trying to break through.
I actually feel a little sorry for you.
Weak kids like you always seek to find other kids they can dominate.
Bullies do this with vicious words, inappropriate actions, and misguided hate.
Is being a weak bully the banner you want to carry for the rest of your life?
Get rid of the bully banner forever; take up a banner that shows respect,
understanding, and tolerance for others, and always hold that one very high.
I walk a mile to see the self in me that I believe to be,
I knew the road I choose to lay my head to sleep is called my home,
times in need I could barely see that in myself I will set free,
the act that held me down, something about me I could not see,
I lived a life when I decide that day I said that I don't care,
so young, so bright, I dim my light, traumatized for me to share,
love me please regardless of what you heard and what you have seen,
friends say that I'm only human, yes you're right, a human but who am I being?
My life will move in the direction I choose,
this I know I have always been taught
that I choose to be a winner or lose,
its entirely up to me its all in my thoughts.
< amidst thy shell's core
healing of ones soul begins
with ......... wholesome cleansing
there across the wind
rides my silly pride
at times a sturdy arrow
at times a butterfly
how often i chose to follow
the path of the sturdy arrow
its landing was hard to find
however, when i chose to try
the path of the butterfly
never, was i too far behind
I will not be late to work today
I will get there on time
I will brush my teeth
Without singing songs
Without thinking about birthdays
I will get there on time
I will eat my oatmeal
Without thinking of
Strewn against a wooden
Like dropped goblets
From a robbers pillowcase
I will be there before the bell rings
My papers will be checked
My hair will be combed
My mind will be alert
Ready to begin my lesson
I will not wonder why
My oldest son doesn’t have a job
I will not pray too long
For my daughter who is taking the bar today
At 10:30 AM in New Orleans
I will not scar my knees wishing
For some alternate world
Where children are never neglected
Where there is no abandonment
What nonsense to try and order the world
Just get to work on time
Put your things in the car, your projector and
The white binders that you didn’t look at
All weekend although you were supposed to check the papers and put the
grades on the computer
I will leave now
Before it is impossible to
Be on time
I will cream my ashy ankles
I will not focus on the white
Cat on the black pillow
With the green eyes
I will not water the plant
I will not watch TV
I will not write poetry
I will not write poetry
I will get to work on time
I will be ready
I will not be daydreaming about fog
Wondering if I’ll get Alzheimer’s like my mother
Or colon cancer like my dad
I won’t be thinking about that stuff
I will be locking the front door and
Closing the gate and clicking the clicker
And starting the car and leaving
I will not be in my living room
Wondering if there is any reason to love
Because I do not love for reason
I love because He first loved me
It is not incantations or intoxication
Or imagination it is my life and
The structure will come with the
Clearness of Bajan water
So clear you can see the fish
Fly float across the Atlantic
It is time
This poem must end
I will not be late for work
Not for nothing
Not for nobody
Not for anything
Not for everything
This poem is over
the work day begins
Sexy is the way
her lips move on his ear.
things I'll never hear.
On top of the pile___shoes upon shoes
One lone wedged-heel red shoe that gives clue
That she knew what her fate would be soon
Aware her soul__spirit would take flight
One lone wedged-heel red shoe that gives clue
The owner was last one to die the death
Aware her soul__spirit would take flight
Memories filled her every thought
The owner was last one to die the death
Terror, horror with every breath
Memories filled her every thought
Of family, friends, life, love__children
Terror, horror, with every breath
Because she knew what fate would be soon
Same as family, friends, love__children
On top of the pile__shoes upon shoes
A is for apathy, “You all know you are!”
B is for itching, “Why can’t I have a car?”
U is for the umbilical cord. You never cut from Ma.
N is for neutral, “Why should you take a stand?”
D is for dependent, “Hey, one always needs a hand!”
A is for angry, “Well, why the hell shouldn’t I be?”
N is for nostalgia, ‘cause in the past we’re free.
C is for the ocks ;) who run the whole damn show!.
E is for euthanasia, “When your old just GO!”
And all that spells abundance, in case you could not tell?
Or went to school in Texas and never learned to spell.
By the way,
Have you felt the stick today?
Missed a child support payment or alimony?
How’s it feel to live in the land of the free?
By the way,
Can you afford the heat?
Does your daily menu include gene-altered meat?
How’s it feel to have no choice;
to be run by a government
who won’t hear your voice?
By the way,
have you paid for the water you drink;
because you don’t trust, the kitchen sink’s?
How does it feel to be so free;
to raise your hand to take a pee;
to be arrested and detained
to receive no trial but a waterboards’ pain?
How’s it feel to live in the land of the free;
to have your passport chipped
and your phone calls clipped?
Does anyone live in this mythical land?
If you do, please lend us a hand.
Tell us how to take care of our children
and the sick.
How to live a good life without carrying the stick.
Please, please, tell me how to be proud
of the world we live in right now.
The ram died high
On the snow covered
Mountain, when the thaw
Of spring came, it's
The melting snow
The waters flow
Brings death in grip
The less germs
(This is also a metaphor for sin. The farther we stay away from it the cleaner we stay. Of
course, we can repent but the results lingers.)
How do I write my love upon the moon?
How do I
Tell how a father's trust upon you swoon
Your silence where belonging longs?
I so old
Fashion, filled with forms so clothed in wrongs
Telling of the heart weakens fiber of the man
The pain in me is more than you can understand
Of a fear
That if I relent you may in my weakness fall
And leave me
More desolate that Christ before he drank his gall.
O this love
A wave incessant in tidal force against the rock
Makes the sands
That runs determinant in my crystal clock.
It is impossible to please........................................................................EVERYONE
like a Queen bee fat and almost legless trying to hold together her world she...DOES
not see for she can not move freely and her mind does................................NOT
focus on the abundant need of each to....................................................HAVE
for the many need sustenance................................................................TO
thrive, feeling the plight of.....................................................................LIKE
beings whose each task, small or large, deserve the same respect as do.........YOU
Down in Haiti
Far from the dream
Way on back
From the vacation scene
Lives the people
Trapped in a life
Toil and strife
From worm infested,
Starving little bellies
What would Golden
Flower think of today
The country she loved
Destroyed in such a way
(Missionary from Haiti came to visit our church yesterday. With his visit and
talk, I see solutions to problems in an instant. Something to treat the water
before the people use it, reforestation, wells in places that need them, and
proper out door facilities for areas that don't have them. Money, work, and
time is needed to carry these projects out .)
Do not seek or chose to find,
correction in another’s mind;
When at the heart of all, we know;
enlightenment comes from what we sow.
To criticize or correct ourselves is for the best
since others seldom can surmise the simplest jest.
In deference to said life so roughly hewn
‘tis the clown that earns heavenly boon.
For the gift of lucidity is rare without calamity
and few honorifics abound for those who claim sanity.
Back in the day when a horse was a need
And a sword was a weapon to fear
Poets were druids and music was magic
And an eye interfered with an ear
So musical poets were blinded by swords
White hot and held very close
So all they had left was a hearing of tone
And an opening way of reprisal
They felt their duty to blind with their beauty
So that listeners felt so alone
They would need to be led
And of course would be bled
By the king they had put on the throne
The songs taught them so well
That the king went to hell
And the blinded then held a revival
Nowadays poets can see and be free
Stand on their own and be whole
It’s the way we come into the world
Using all senses the mind comprehenses
To heal all the scars of the soul
Pain’s for the body to deal with
Soul’s a creation to hold
As the only thing one can own
Leaving this wonder unfurled
Is the way we go out of this world