Modest woman moderate woman
Your inner beauty strikes me
Like the tongue of noble eloquence
More than gold even refined gold
Or our purged fulgent silver.
Black woman proud woman
Your pride is not haughty
But a humble pride of eaglets;
Your black eyes are so glittering
As the eyes of our dark rivers
Filled with messages of peace
That banish the broody turmoil
From those panting hearts
Of your foreigned offsprings.
Gentle mother diligent mother
Your kindness kindles the fires
Of my heart –
Your dexterity dresses
The table of our ageless history
And the thought of your being
– Oh kind mother! –
Makes the most delicious menu
For my heart.
I remember your naked feet
Fast and fair as a pigeon’s limbs
Treading the invisible paths
Almost covered by shrubs
Small shrubs misted by the prime mist.
I remember the wood from the wood
The water from the water
And manifold items from jungle alleys
Borne by your delicate hands
And upon your soft black-haired head.
I remember the constant match
To markets and to farms
And your bright face smeared with
The ash dust
Making you more beautiful
Than any woman whose feet
Ever touched the naked earth.
I remember those burdens
Upon your cheerful kin-souls
And babies strapped to your backs
Babes full of unspoken words
To unborn others in patient wombs
Waiting in an endless turn –
Indeed, mother is dove!
A black dove and a dark huntress
A hunter’s gift from the maker?
Mother is like a weaver-bird
Building a big foot-like nest
Filled with corn and warmth
A bundle of eagle-flight
Mother is dove
And the hunter calls her
The clan’s eternal dove.
Oh, mother loving woman
Gentle as our black horizon
To you we humbly come
From these far and lonely lands
Hoping to grace our love and beauty
Before that jealous grave
Makes her temporary feast.
Ah, memory is a fickle lover succumbing to the tide
grasping for the grains of sentiment sometimes left.
In cold or torrid waves, spent passions now abide
for you have left me, long ago, I'm now, alone bereft.
Grasping for the grains of sentiment sometimes left:
beside a roaring bonfire, where sparks on night winds glide;
for you have left me, long ago, I'm now alone, bereft.
I huddle in a dune's dark shade with nothing left inside.
Beside a roaring bonfire, where sparks on night winds glide,
we conceive a wayward child, a changeling child, a thief.
I huddle in a dune's dark shade with nothing left inside,
as the waves of age and ages, return only grief.
We conceive a wayward child, a changeling child, a thief.
In cold or torrid waves, spent passion now abides,
as the waves of age and ages, return only grief,
ah, memory is a fickle lover succumbing to the tide.
Once bloomed a rose so young and fair
With dark brown eyes and long black hair
Beside her be a tall dark tree
Whose branches stretch to smother thee
Too close beside the shadowy bark
That soon begins to leave its mark
She cries for help, but none shall hear
Her thorns too sharp, who’d dare go near?
To save this rose, who’d risk their life?
With naught to gain but pain and strife
Alone, afraid, she lays to rest
Her heart beats low inside her chest
And with the hour growing near
She sheds her final grieving tear
And so the rose soon falls asunder
Her final day, eternal slumber
She lies beside the old dark tree
The only one who mourns for thee
They needed help
Walking alone in the dark.
A broken down car.
The child frightened,
But not understanding
That would soon
Come her way.
Her parents petrified
That their baby was gone,
Over forbidden images
That crowded their way
Past ice cream sundays
And birthday parties
And wedding days.
A doer of good deeds.
He looks into
the little girl's eyes.
The girl speaks,
"This is not my dad"
And the coward
who took her,
Believing he saved
From a long, cold walk,
Saved a child
From a long, cold death.
My Dad was Chicagoan.
He would light up a room just like my Mom.
He loved to fish ! He loved his beer .
He also designed a Octagon home in the 70's
Built custom by hand . I was very proud of Dad .
Alcohol hit our Family , a curse .
He left my Mom when I was 14 in Illinois.
To renew in California , leaving a trail of tears .
Meeting my step mom , my sisters age .
My 2 sisters they were accepted in her world .
Not I , I looked too much Like Mom . Told this all my Life .
She a petite Beauty , RN , real estate Broker .
I did not see why it was wrong to be like mom ?
I moved in with Dad, His new Wife , and 2 sisters
eventually . All three women were competing for my Father .
I was kicked out at 16 yrs.
Years do pass , you try and accept people places and things .
At the end of Dads life , he was calling me once a week .
I ordered a Engraved Clock for the Fathers day coming.
This was a issue for the Wife and sisters , never invited to his new home , 2 Decades ~My little Brother & I , never wanted .
Dad passed suddenly one sad Spring Day . Not one word from his wife , all 3rd party, how and when, Dad Died . being denied the right to his address , even to say goodbye .
Not being able to send my engraved clock .
"Dad Passed " received call from sister whom just stayed a week with me , I took her all around the sites here . "1st day I get call , you should come , 2nd Day after , Dad's been cremated already . " It was a lie.
I went anyway , finding the funeral home, the Funeral Director was appalled at the denial displayed.
He insisted I was given 10 minutes alone with Dad , my Birthright to say Goodbye , he was in dismay over the Hostility towards a daughter ~
I get to this room of mean relative's. His sisters , Mine, angry looks , hearing from a Aunt "What is she doing Here ! " I can't give nor reason or rhyme.
Shame to you and all that participated that wicked day.
Are you Glorified with Power? Denied the right to grieve ,
Left with no sane answers to give in hatred received by Blood . Some , just Spouses , telling me I had no right to Say Goodbye to my own Father , My DAD .
My Dad wanted me there , I know he did . I love Him and will never forget , his youngest girl whom looked like Mom . I know in my heart and dreams he speaks.
We all see when we leave . May God not allow any Son or Daughter to go through such Evil.
Thank-you Poetry Soup for returning my voice .
Let the Deicide commence.
You're a voyeur at best!
Your vampiric heart is beating out of your chest!
And you have slayed the ones whom would love you for anything less
Ready to consume the final fragments of innocence,
And for you there is no forgiveness,
On your knees pleading, screaming to a tyrant in the skies;
The father of lies.
I will never be enslaved in your superiority
The people agree: jaded of your false dichotomies.
Know: I will be whomever nature intends to be
Apollo and I will share our dreams,
and you will be forced to see
I know who you are...
Readily the first to present your scars
Chained by some despot or mental czar
An emotional homunculus in your mind, behind bars
Reluctant to escape - even when proven fake
Your demented mind - depths no one will penetrate!
...And you see me suffering
Not caring of any casualties
Just as long you recieve your safeguard of sympathy
So very wary of the masses and their Anarchy; Liberious ways
Solipsist - Is there no one you can see?
Even if she was presented burning?
Solipsist - Is there no one you can believe?
Even if Sophia was screaming?
Solipsist - Know you have killed and abused me
Imprisoned in your own personal reality
Mother, mother can't you see?
How much are you putting the needle,
Deep inside of my heart?
I know the pain won't go away!
I know you are blind to see the truth!
Pain pain pain,
When will you go away?
Anger, hate & discouragement
Always comes my way!
What am I supposed to do?
I feel alone deep inside,
I feel the empty pressure against my chest,
In a prison of hate,
I am sick of the people who I love,
Betraying me & ruining the trust,
God above who sees your actions,
I hope He will never forgives you,
For you who keep on sin.
One day you will see
Throw my eyes & my pain,
One day you will stop on pretend,
Realize your mistakes,
It will be too late,
I will be gone far away,
I will never come back again!
I can't imagine being alive without you
I can't imagine what it will be like when your gone
I don't know what I'll become without you
Maybe I'll just run
Run away from everything and leave everyone behind
Maybe I'll find a way to be close to you
Because I won't believe you died
My heart will ache so much more
Tears will always run
My eyes will hold the wisdom
That you bestowed upon me young
And my recklessness will be noticeable
People will wonder why
Why am I running when the person I needed most died
How can I face my life when I can't do anything right
I won't believe you have gone away
When God decides to take you
I'll still come by your house and always expect an answer
I Love You Gamma
You Taught Me About My Heritage
Please Remember Me When God Takes You
Please Guide Me In the Right Way
God bless little angels brought unto me,
Watch over them beneath heavens grace.
My first of seven blessings most precious gift,
Treasures hearts keepsakes.
Number one the oldest, my rocker baby,
Dancing away with musics sweet lullaby.
The lyrical light of brilliance’s, a shinning note,
That strums across grandma's heart strings.
The second child is a testament to patience,
No instructions came with this wonder
Or warning labels tattooed upon her backside.
But she has the eyes of an angel and lord knows,
She try's my beliefs but I'll never give up the fight .
I love my problem child just the same.
The third times the charms, she is that for sure,
With brown eyes and a kewpie doll with dark curls.
Our grand daughter bubbles, whom can light up the
Darkest moment with just a simple smile.
The fourth grace is he, full of strength and daring,
A future NFL first draft pick this is my little RJ,
Patton had his tank and believe you me, Me maw
Diamonds are the hardest stones known to man,
But this boy sparkles with a shine more valuable,
Fifth in line is wisdom and charm, explorations
With curiosities wondering eye, but ahead of
The pack in any game of life.
My youngest grand son Issac his name means,
Laughter and joy and in this it is so true.
Tiny but mighty is my little Bella,
With dark raven hair, she has her fathers eyes,
And mommy's brave spirit.
She'll take on the world someday.
And win by all hands clapping her on,
Me Maw's future Mrs. America.
Seven was born on grandma's birthday,
A special gift given unto me is my darling,
Who knows what the future will hold for thee,
But seven has always been my lucky number,
So sky's the limit with this the youngest blessing,
In my life.
1. The blessings gift is music.
2. The second blessings gift mischief and curiosity.
3. The third blessings gift beauty's sweet smile
4. The four blessings gift strength and endurance.
5. The fifth blessings gift wisdom and charm.
6. The sixth blessings gift is a brave spirit.
7. The seventh blessings gift is lucks true fortune.
And when you add up all my many blessing,
What does a grandmother receive a full heart,
Hugs and kisses at bedtime.
Good night my little angels and sleep tight.
I'll re-sight my many blessings in my prayers,
Tonight as I lay myself asleep and dream of thee.
BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN
It was a dazzling day.
In the park where we gathered.
I watched the sprinkler spray.
Whilst Oleander got lathered.
A pierce of minty laughter.
Came from my mother.
The day, now full swelter.
Brought mephitic curses, from father.
A piece, of distinct edges, shapes, and color.
My Father’s piece,
Gossamer... A ghost in the Parlor.
My aunt buzzes ‘round,
Looking to peck.
Her greatest skill,
Tearing wealth from flesh.
She is an ugly thing,
Constantly tithing kin.
Her tabs busted,
Only darkness within.
My uncle walks water,
Crying divine inspired droll.
Then he sees foreign breasts,
And his eyes start to roll.
He is piously loathsome,
A delusional winner.
His piece, contrasting color,
A chronic Casanova of a sinner.
My grandmother sits,
By a row of briar’s.
From here smelling sweet,
Closer and the peril gets dire.
She is a dandy,
Addicting to be around.
But when her corner piece shows,
It can cut to the ground.
My grandfather rests,
In the middle, on a bench.
The tether that keeps,
We are bolts, He is wrench.
To us much renowned.
His piece is the core,
It holds me around.
There it is, my family puzzle.
And on the fringes I sit.
See, I’m an edge piece,
That doesn’t quite fit.
With my teeth on a muzzle.
Born into a life of poverty crime and squalor
where hunger and cold winds bite
and disease is rife
and it was a daily battle to stay alive
and find some food to stay alive.
Uneducated illiterate caught in the poverty trap
drinking polluted water
from the same polluted cholera riddled tap.
An impoverished woman
sells her body for a cheap bottle of Gin
and a lodging for the night
while a pickpocket and mutcher
look for a pocket to alight.
The deafening clunk and clatter
of horses and carts on the cobbled ground
and shouts from the street market traders
echo all around.
Children play and run through the narrow
dressed in rags no shoes upon their feet
The putrid stench from the gutter
and thick choking bellowing
smoke from factories
make one heath and make it hard to breath.
Dilapidated hovels and buildings
covered in black soot
horse manure and raw sewage
Beggars with large mournful eyes
reach out pleadingly to the passing gentry
to fill their empty bowls with plenty.
A peeler pins a notice of a forthcoming hanging
at the local Gaol for the few who can read
upon a rusty nail.
A Mother desperate to feed her hungry children
steals a loaf of bread from a market stall
but is soon captured in the sprawl.
The judge sentences her to 10 years
penal servitude far over sea in Botany bay
but she dyes aboard the ship of fever
upon the way.
Her 9 children are sent to the workhouse
for the poor to gain some education
and work hard behind it's hellish door
never to see their Mother or escape poverty
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.
Perhaps you see me
it may be your gift to see
or merit for hard work
or maybe you paid for it with the lashings you endured
but surely it is now your inescapable wretched curse
as the truth haunts you
but you cannot close your eyes
It is my fault I am as this
to be as false as I am
false is my name
I cannot love that
I have buried it inside
and run away
because it is too ugly
easier to smile and pretend.
My grandmother saw it in my blackened soul
clever and easy to lie
she hurt me
made me ashamed
to protect the world and even me
but her tricks did not work
because I have killed too many hearts
and poisoned those that survived
even my own.
I am cold
and it is right I have suffered so
because I lost my heart
and replaced it with a ticking clock
that pretends to beat like a happy butterfly
and tries to convince me I have feelings
that I cannot reach
I am a masquerader of abundant hollow emotions
that laugh and smile and cry
but I never face myself
in the dark alone
because there is nothing to see without a light
my flame has no fuel
unless I suck it from another's bloody neck.
I do not know myself
because I cannot bear to look
but I hate myself as much as you hate me
and you should
because every love I'm given
is less for the world
I am a black hole
I give to get
like Hansel and Gretel's keeper
I only give love
to fatten up my lover
and open her precious tender trusting heart
so that I can consume it in eventual flames
and steal all of their future hope
and faith in humanity.
And I don't know how to stop
and am too afraid to stop myself
with the knife I keep hidden
but never have the courage to use
because I am a dark monster
that pretends to be inviting
like a pristine beach
on a boxing day morning
to my shoreline
so I can consume them
with my hungry tsunami
and leave them writhing in pain
with all hope in shambles.
Rescuers arrive in love
one after another
I greet them with open arms
as if I am deserving
blinded behind my veil
pretending to myself until it is too late
and just as they almost open my heart
I swallow them under my next crushing wave.
Sad girl rising
Let me tell you about this girl I know
My cousin, this girl be
Her life has been so very sad
But how wonderful is she
She was a wild child, till she married
And had her first born child
When she found out that his brain was damaged
It really drove her wild.
She took the Doctor through the courts
Then fought for ten long years
To get the money she deserved
And she cried so many tears
She gained a million pound at last
To help her with the lad
And yet the damage it was done
And it really drove her mad.
Her and her hubby cared for he
And gave their lives to him
It was a twenty four, seven job
But at times it got real grim
She would do just anything
To make his life more sweet
But when she got that Parkinson’s
She was close on to defeat
But no, she struggled with the odds
And though it’s ten years on
Never does this girl give up
When all her hope seems gone
She smiles, and carries on with courage
Like I’ve never seen before
She’s something kind of wonderful
She’s a hero, that’s for sure.
30 July 2o13 @ 1043hrs.
I found forty rusty pennies in a black leather slipper
while my itchy nose sneezed more than three times;
why were they hidden from thrifty mother?
Weren't they less valued than silver dimes?
While my itchy nose sneezed more than three times,
mom woke up to scold me for my loud laughter;
she was mad and wanted to hear anything but lies
and frantically screaming, she pulled my curly hair.
Mom woke to scold me for my loud laughter,
I tripped on the slipper, falling flat as a bear,
and frantically screaming, she pulled my curly hair;
with an angered face, I retrieved to my dark lair.
She was mad and wanted to hear anything but lies,
mom woke up to scold me for my loud laughter;
with an angered face, I retrieved to my dark lair...
I found forty rusty pennies in a black leather slipper.
A serpent underneath blue sky,
in shade of man, in twinkle of an eye,
above brick wall, in the structure, at the floor,
venom of white dove; contaminated food, undrinkable water,
misguided youth, pregnant daughter, unfaithful father and hateful son,
mothers do pray while we walk through Babylon;
on teli and in the press, on top shells,
price none the less, in bedroom and at your door..
dawn of a new day seemed to be dark,
An Inmates Dark Christmas....
It was the first Christmas right after my momma passed away.
Any other Christmas I'd be making the best of the situation, but it was a very dark day!
It was a day I wanted to escape from, and nothing could distract my mind.
My body felt so numb, and the pain fed off of me being confined.
An Inmates Dark Christmas...
I laid on my bunk in a funk in that cold dark cell.
I was emotionally drunk, and that Christmas day was pure hell!
I pictured my momma in my minds eye, we were hanging decorations on the Christmas tree.
It was at that moment I wanted to die, for I just knew I would succomb to insanity!
An Inmates Dark Christmas...
That day I even contemplated suicide, for the pain and loneliness was just too much.
A bonified emotional homicide, for my momma I would never see or touch!
That Christmas I was a man with an empty shell, and a troubled soul.
A day of pure hell, and alone in that cell became my dark little hole.
An Inmates Dark Christmas...
I thought that day would never end, but then Christmas was gone.
No family or friend, for I was still terribly alone!
Christmas is still the hardest day of the year, but I manage to get by.
And although I still shed a tear, at least I no longer wanna die!
By Jimmy Matthew Anderson for Constance La Frances contest "Your Saddest Christmas
The Black butterfly waves away her adorations
All she seeks is seclusion, subsuming slave to mortification
The Dear Air is all she can breath, captive of imaginary dreams
The Beacon resonates, but the hope isolates
The Wasteland's silky fingers caressing the virgin's face
So she is now, the covet of the damned
Programmed to every victim's pain
Carrying the weight of every sorrow
Drowning in wrongs she does not know
But paradise is at loss; she must go
Nature sighs after the bite
All my hopes fading
Don't look at me with those sorrowful eyes
How do you know exactly what I'm feeling?
I'm just the ghost flower passing by
And you can hear nature's sigh
Maybe the guff was empty—Cancer full moon eclipse
Left field call on the black wall phone
faint cry from the distant end
spoke with throat lump of capital
disaster and a troddened womans most
everydom—lost before found—somehow Jan
knew and put forth a celestial no comment with
I-hope-I-am-wrong-love gesture for the
love torn bull awaiting a cancerfold friend
offspring no spring-perhaps next spring. Anna
soild Anna so poised of classic stock sometimes
never bending to an antiflexible Taurus mood
was caught in a never place, why of questions-
depleted character strikes. Will the blood
hordes rally for the fallen “fetalrade” and
heal the internal emohurt temperature
inferno of unknown bliss. Does it ever come
at the right instant? Like where’s a cop when
you really need one—maybe 7-11 therapy would
bring solice and peace. Forgive the forgiver
and pass your sense into another ability
Keep your mind and your soul for the little
lost egg. I don’t know know or could never compromise
no more of a complex juxtaposition of life
and death than that of biobeings so
closely connected that share the same
existance, one within-one yet
percent infinity bonded in a tidewater
liquid symbiosis that no manbeing in time
past or future will hope to match let alone
entertain. Be that as it may, you’ve felt the
sting of life and the creation of flesh for a brief
moment of time in time and time is that holder of all
events we hope to achieve—your time in both
will come to be—you will share
and create from within, and not waiver
about the fallbacks we run down for
no explanations from anyone will suffice
or reason to make a whole sense of such
a fathomless inconsistency. I felt your
loss deep in my knees and thoughts flew
to your little soul upstairs. There are words
and there are no words—my deepest senses
to you and Dana—I know it will happen for you
as all things come to pass for those deserving dave collins
I do not know?
mama how do i tell you its bad again
how the voices are telling me its okay to hurt
they want me to fall
to fall from the top of buildings
and not get up
but don't worry mama
i plan to shut them up
mama how do i explain how the pain has returned
all you wanted was me to be better
i tried and tried and tried and tried
but in the end, the crazy won
they drive me crazy to no end
i want to make it stop
but don't worry mama
i have a plan
mama i cant tell you how it feels
to be sunken to the depths of earth
angels are soaring above me
but their happy gazes hurt
i need this incessant chatter to go
to hurt me, to hate me
it all feels so real
but don't worry mama
it wont soon
mama i can see the look in your eyes
it hurts me too that this is goodbye
cant you see this is the only way
for the voices to vanish but my body stay
goodbye and farewell
ill miss you so much
but don't cry mama
ill be better now
I cannot get into heaven
God I have tried!
Suicide is a double edge sword
Especially when you survive!
Walking the streets at night
Dazed and confused
Longing to be loved
When is Mum, coming for me?
"Does she still love me?"
"Does she still care?"
"Does she still think of me?"
"Does she wonder, where I am?"
I want her to come find me
I want her to say she 'loves me’
I want her to comfort me
I want her to take me home
And keep me safe
And not forget hat I exist
Like the way she treats me now
I wish God
Could make my Mum
Making this hellish nightmare
On the street
“Send my Mum please!”
So, all this can end!
Before this last ray of hope
Diminishes for good!
I don’t want to become
The walking dead
Forever forgotten as if
I was never born!
For this is the cruel, harsh reality
Of living life, feeling unloved
Uncared for, abandoned,
Left to fend for my own
A dangerous killer inside me
Eating away, at my soul
Something, no one can see
As I suffer in silence
My insides crippling!
Lost, alone and frightened
Weeping on a dirty
Graffiti park bench
Rolling down my cheeks
Stuffing newspapers under my jumper
To keep myself warm
“What am I going to do?”
“Will I make it through the night?”
“Will I get raped and beaten?”
"Will I be left for dead?”
“Will I survive
To see another day?
“Is my life worth living?”
Please God, I beg of you
Have mercy now
Please show me the way!
Why am I so selfish?
Why do I live for the wrong things?
I am dying inside
Because I refuse to see the light.
I need to say yes,
But I still haven't learned that yet.
I am a fool,
And I am hurting you.
If I would let go of myself,
I would hold on to you.
I cry myself awake
In the middle of the day
Because of a decision I made
Not to spend time with you.
And now everything I am
Is falling apart into pieces;
I feel like I am losing you
Because I am losing myself.
A LETTER TO MY FIRST CRUSH
My Dearest Kevin
My hands shake nervously as I write this letter
The fountain pen drips the ink in heart-shapes
Pieces of my heart as it reach out to you
I just want you to know that loving you isn’t easy
My dozen of Harlequins and my entire Mill @ Boon
Have'nt prepared me
To deal with a player like you
I heard it through the grapevine,
That you are heartbreaker and womanizer
With only one thing on your adolescence mind
My grandmother always told me, that
Why buy the cow, when you can get the milk for free
My grandma is a wise woman
More like a heroine in my eyes
I am the heroine of my life
More like a Nancy Drew
without a clue on how to love you
I am never satisfy, I am curious
However I am very chary
Kind of gal
I do believe that
I am in love with you today
I might hate you tomorrow
Because you never know with a secret admirer
To the man I love today
They are nothing more than I can say.
I will wait for your reply my love
I do not know?
Light is almost clear
The morning is here
Beautiful light, beautiful moment
Your grandmother and all it has been
Now or then before a sunrise moment.
I saw her sitting by herself in the periphery;
She missed someone I knew was better than me.
Two halves don’t make a whole,
But two is company,
And I’m fair with trigonometry.
I don’t care about your boyfriend in Germany.
I don’t care about all the baggage you brought over from Florida,
Your daddy issues,
Your paradoxical self-defeated self-importance,
How you’re yesterday’s big news.
Please, take off your coat, have a drink,
Slip into my ruse.
If we’re not so lucky,
I’ll introduce you to the person I keep
Battered down inside
Beneath the wide-
I had years of therapists telling me to dig into that
God damned clamoring tantrum of self.
Of course, the only time I asked for help,
I got tenfold pitches for prescriptions;
I got a hospital bed.
And a broken-record of out-of-time doctors
That said it was all in my head.
And I wished I was dead.
When I was four years old,
My mother took me with her when she did men for drugs.
Or left me in her apartment, screaming;
She said, "Nothing ever shuts up."
The magazine says
I should consider a new medication,
And busy work and meditation.
Sweet girl, you probably don’t care for hell;
So call to tell him that everything’s swell.
In the morning I promise not to dwell.
Note to self:
If you’re reading this,
Please treat yourself well.
And quit chasing nightmares
That teach you about yourself.
You are the sunshine
On a cold day
That warms my skin
And makes me smile
You are the starlight
On a dark night
That shines through
And guides me
You are the trees
On a depressing day
That soothes my soul
And holds me tight
You are my mother
On every day
That loves me
And cares about me
I am your daughter
For the rest of my life
Who will always love you
And always follow your lead
I am a dark day
I am a starless night
I am a dying tree
You hold me together
You help me through
And you guide me
You are there
When I need you
When I yell at you
When I push you away
You will always be there
And I will always be here
Forever and ever
With all the love and care
Dropped out of school
At an early age
Lived on the streets
Because, I disgusted my mother
She thought I was a poor example
Of true Christian beliefs
At an early age
She religiously drummed into me
‘blood is thicker than water’
Here I am today confused, lonely and hungry
No one protecting me
No home to go too
Just, peoples eye for an eye,
tooth for a tooth mentality
Praying for the sun to shine
To feel some warmth again!
Sun rays of hope, lighting me up
To live through this darkness without fear
With a heart full of faith
No matter what happens to me, now!
If only I could drink my salty tears
It would sustain me for a lifetime
Your tears are worth nothing, around here
You’re classed as weak and venerable
Only attracting death
Your life worth nothing!
Save me from myself
I am my best friend
I am my worst enemy
My prayers and dreams
Lost in the wind
Blowing around like autumn leaves
The rain washing them away
Down the drain into the sewage
Rolling with the seasons
Year after year
Survival for the fittest!
Surviving on the love
Hidden, inside me
Being my strength and guide
My personal lifeline
In surviving this crazy world
We all live in
Cold shadows form
Blacker bars from locked window
Fall upon the remaining light and I
Wake caged memories as animals
Metaphors arouse the senses
Silence louder grips regret
And all I can do
Is think to run
But, instead I again hold on tighter
To my waning sanity
No signs insist on warning
Moments like rocks are falling
Always continue to pile up images within
That now stirs the soup thick dark
And begin to play out
An unspeakable act
Every year upon this very day
I watch from balconies, stuck
In tragedies portrayed
And now I see…
What I forgot
Covered about her sins
Beneath, I’m a child crying
Guilt turning always finds its way
Around the coo-coo clock
Of hands and helpless
To time’s army, life’s ending, ticking, plot
If, but for an instance
I could be free
Free from what
A reality without her
And her needed love
When is enough, enough!
Please, subconscious just let me go…
And I promise
I’ll keep on… going and forgetting
The words you force
The words you yell
The words you fictitiously pronounce
Now becomes you, becomes your energy.
Your energy flow is not lucid anymore. Was it ever?
Your demand for a delusional lie to become reality shames you.
These words you force on me have backfired.
I see the colours you wear,
I must now forgive you
The damage has been done. To yourself.
Copyright © Christina Clark