People make me smile the way
their eyes shine when they talk
about something they love
when they feed me food. Or tell
me how much they love me
when I look into someone's
eyes and see it I see that look
in their eyes I see love in them
When I see someone laugh and
have fun in what they do
The way they cry for there lost
When they give me a smile and
tell me how beautiful I am
People are beautiful well some
are and I wish someday I can
find someone who will look at
me and say "you have that look
in your eye" what look?
I want to find someone so
beautiful in the inside I can't
stay away they amaze me with
what they say an do how they
will dance in the rain and know
every detail about me
Will bring me Starbucks on a
rainy day and just talk about
I want someone beautiful
Think of me and smile
Our time was shortly spent
Think for just a while
Of all the things we meant………
To each other we were Love,
Laughter, Smiles and Joy
Think of all those things
Then think of us once more
Remember our first kiss
Remember our first time
Remember I was yours,
Remember you were mine
The things that we would say
The things we use to do
I heard you sing a song
I wrote a poem for you
Didn’t think we’d be together
Didn’t seek, but we did find
A precious hidden treasure
A love so true and kind
Now when the Angels come for me
My home now in the sky
Don’t hang your head in sorrow
For me don’t even cry
I will send a signal
And you will know the sign
The Sun will shine its brightest
The humming birds will sing
Midnight will be the darkest
Think of all those things
The wind will blow so gently
I’ll Whisper in your ear
You will smell the roses
And feel my presence near
For you have known my spirit
For you have only seen
The beam of light now shinning
A dream that came to be
So just in case you’re wondering
It’s not because I’m free
But that I caught you smiling
And I knew, you had thought of me.
Here it is...a beautiful story about us....
The theme of us has been
written about for ages.
Love missed us,
Shared but not shared,
We did our best
Different kinds of battles
But battles none the less.
Life taught us how
To survive and we have.
Our worlds were so much the same
You have always been in my heart,
That's simple to say.
Men can be so transparent
And I am not so different.
Early on I knew
I was a romantic,
An Actor and Singer.
But war changed that for me.
At fifteen I saw your beauty
That is what I've had in my heart
to this very moment.
This is so fun....
Your have seen so meny
Coastlines from yaughts
while I have driven through the jungles
and marches of Honduras
to see the same sunset.
You there with me...
Something like Hemingway
I am to you you've said to me..
I like the comparison.
Yep, that's me.
And I can cook too.
Baby, your life is the stuff
of million dollar movies.
The glamor of Hollywood,
The Red Carpet
Doesn't care about last
But you are a fighter.
Your Father taught you lessons
In his own way as did mine.
We share that.
We aren't from
different social worlds.
Our values are the same,
We complement each other
If you can get past my long hair.
I love you.
You have given to me
a most precious gift
these past few days
A heart that cries more than me
in my pain.
Whose congenial and benign teachings
make me sane.
A warm touch that dispels from me
the gales of worry.
Whose proximity ensures me that I'm
protected by her under furry.
A helping hand that always hold me
whenever I'm about to lose.
& my first teacher who makes me to
distinguish between donts' and dos'.
A voice and nothing more, an Angel
who is entirely mine just after my birth.
And she is none other but 'My Mother',
The God on Earth.
Although to define her in words is
beyond my skill.
Nevertheless I can say that her pace in
my life, none can fill.
She is the one who needs not a single
word of me to understand.
In my devastation, she is always there
to provide effusively her hand.
In the weariness of my life, with her,
I may lose to be in link.
But she ever remembers me whenever I
breathe or my eyes blink.
I can say that in search of heaven,
I needn't to go anywhere.
I would like to put my head in my
mother's lap, as its only there..
I'd do anything
To gaze at a
Full moon in the sky
Studded with the stars
I'd do anything
For all the beautiful
Things in the world
Which make me
Smile and happy.
Even a rainbow, a butterfly.
But I know,
I'm with the Gods
Most beautiful and
My rose of dawn,
I love you babe.
Your company is soothing,
Calming and reassuring inside.
You are like the bubbles
Of the fountain I moisten.
Your enchanting smile
Makes an illusion.
An angelic presentation
In your appearance
Which captivate me,
Makes me more attentive.
Bit by bit
I begin to recognize you.
My princess, my angel
I carefully watch your
Billowing, beautiful creature
Like my poetry.
My love, the fantasy
I want to invent you.
"I Woke Up One Morning."
I woke up one morning as if from a dream,
I had lived from being a child, to an old age.
I was struck by anguish and fear until I realized
that this dream was my awakened past.
I walked this earth with steady feet,
Carrying my mind in my heart.
Surrounded by some who cared and
other's who couldn't.
I felt betrayed and in return I wounded myself.
Those marks are invisible, yet the pain is deeply
felt with inner scars.
Along my path, I met my mother, a passive soul!
kind, and generous, unable to express her perplexed mind.
I met my father! unsatisfied at who he was,
blowing blows of anger and frustration, into his world,
yet sensitive enough To overwhelm his children with
silence and authority, which he called love and protection
from a world he feared.
And under his wings was no such living.
I met my eldest brother, who's joy on this earth was
short lived! A soul refined with inner depth and struggle
to better himself and love unbounded by more love
to those he loved.
I met my little sister, who will represent a loving
child within a grown sensitive, and sensible feeling
woman Her inner space, glows in her outer beauty,
which remained young coming from the depth
of her feelings, and suffering, and re-suffering,
while creating from her own flesh her home.
We left our native home where we laughed,
and cried, growing, hoping to fulfill a dream
not yet dreamt.
Follows a life with pressure, discontent,
pain, submissiveness we walked, unconnected
with our partners, divided, never holding hands
along the path.
Four new lives, time, events, war, death, tears and smiles...
engulfed our existence, until all that we call freedom
brought an unaccomplished freedom
short lived, yet lived.
I met my younger brother he our enigma our flesh
and blood runs together in different fields.
Children and more children they are our treasures.
Their pains and joys reflect in our lives.
Yet, nothing can cut through the thread that holds
our lives together.
Young and old and growing will remain enduring,
with every breath we breath, away or close,
we hear each other's silences.
Awake at night we see a portrait of beauty, love,
courage, and endurance and colorful.
Awake with a warm feeling that I am
that multiplicity of them, I am not alone
as they live in me and from me as one.
Contest Old Poem You Are Proud Of. Nathan. A WIN (Honorable Mention)
Slowly dancing in the wind, swaying as to music
Rocking like a ship at sea to the whims of air and water
Her face shone bright with the tears of heaven
By consorts of every shape and hue, this elegant lady stood
White on white, her gown shown among those dressed in like manner
Looking upward, she opened to the rising sun
~Christopher Thor Britt
Anna Redmond put her own death in the Irish Independent as a mischief - or maybe ‘a cry
for help’. She married into Mr. Webster’s hotel and worked there slave-like. Her beautiful
young face, her red hair streaming, cheekily curling, her laughter eyes sad - her husband,
boyishly drinking all the profits. They said she suffered from her nerves! They said no
wonder Tommy drank the way he did! They always referred to her as she – she was a bit
wild, she didn’t fit in, he could have done better for himself – no wonder he hit her. Her red
hair dulled in a mental hospital. Anna Redmond, full of promise, beautiful and lively had her
youthful exuberance quelled by life’s circumstances.
"A Beautiful Ending."
I have searched through the depth of my soul and
never regretted standing alone under the torrential
storm that day awaiting the approach of the ferry
to anchor i felt the need to be hugged by my man
to forgive me as I had a confession I was going to
heal & feel that i am not alone and had to finish
what i had started.
Hours Later the ferry arrived empty lifeless with only
The scent of his soul .
My story is about wounds that would have lasted forever
or even a life time as for years I was abused a failure weak
Ugly I had no friends I had no respect from anyone when
awake I was haunted by my own image my bed that I never
left day or night became my only love.
I wanted everything around me to stop come to a complete halt!
I did not want to hear a door bell ring or smell flowers or watch
the birds fly or wait for winter summer spring or fall.
Voices irritated my mechanism music around me was heard like
The moaning of a mother over the loss of her child drowning for
me was better than surfacing thunder made me scream lighting
made me run hide in the closet dripping of the rain became like
drums in my ears.
That same moment how I wished i could migrate never
Look back but keep moving moving until I discover
My peaceful river sit and gain my strength survive to
Live through spring while listening to natures rhythm,
And pray for the winter winds to wipe away my fears even
Through my loneliness enable me to breath that sigh of
I had regrets when I became fully aware how much
I have been selfish thinking only of myself as never
did my man complain when i looked into his eyes
i saw how much pain he was going through that was
one of those days that made me definitely decide to
seek professional help before its too late.
I needed to stop! stop! now! rediscover my identity
To love life to listen to the showers water running like
a river people laughing radio news people crying people
dressed others undressed work buses full schools young
students life is ahead of them cars with one passenger
or more trains people inside reading their newspaper
parks full of life running nowhere just running dogs happy
being out of there indoor prison playing with their masters
cats meowing for a friend calling a companion an alarm clock
ticking a wake up call business men and women running to
work all of sudden i created a picture that is alive, and i am
looking forward to be included, i will, i am, i will tell him
and i will change.
I love the scent of my mans soul and reached
out for his forgiveness.
Murphy wished for a Prince who rode a White horse...
So she went back to college and took a new course...
She met a man who drove a green pinto...
Although he had no idea where his life would go...
His wants and needs he wanted for free...
As he had no intentions of working you see...
So they moved in together...and she paid the bills...
He played online games and took many pills...
While she worked two jobs, and going to school...
Her friends told her often she was a fool...
This wasn’t a relationship...this was just bizarre...
And to make matters worse, he drove her sports car...
But she explained, he needs me and I don’t want to be alone...
Besides I have created a most beautiful home...
The years flew by and no changes were made..
She graduated with honors, and now had a trade..
At the firm of Morgan White Esquire at Law...
This was just the beginning and the last straw...
She finally came to her senses you see...
Of her dreams and wishes that were meant to be...
She now had her “ Morgan “ and her “Prince” you see...
A Morgan is a breed of horse...and the rest is history
A gray dawn, a dark twilight.
Daybreak, dawn, dusk.
A flash of lightening across the horizon.
Windswept trees, in all bent shape,
Such is the result due to harsh winds
That travel for miles and miles.
And we have no knowledge from where it came from
Or where it is going.
But that its travel continues across the daunting mass
Oh how it churns the water.
I can feel the mist and spray cover my body
And tingle my hands.
Standing in the shallow the air blows about me
With sandy hair raging like fire, slapping my face.
A feeling of unknown,
Watching angry waves become violent.
And a shiver of coldness, trembles my body.
A sense of peace,
I have one thought;
Where did it come from?
Poem about beautiful sunsets and the journey of life.
Spent all day walking on the beautiful powdery white beach. Picking
up oceans treasures, scallop shells calico in colors rich and diverse,
conch, coral, cockel, Sand dollar, sea biscuit, lightning welk, snell shells
of every kind. Ocean breakers emerald crashing and rumbling up onto
the porcelain beach. Wade out let it splash all over me so cooling and
refreshing along with ocean breeze. Splash on the face I lick it off,
exquisitely salty. sand Pipers skiddering along, Pelicans and sea gulls
in the indigo sky catching my eye. Such beautiful things my spirit uplifted.
Sun now kissing the ocean in an explosion of colors. I sit down
to take it all in. Orange, scarlet, green, violet, purple, amber,
gold, emerald, jasper, amathyst, amber, alibaster and every
hue inbetween. A glorious feastfor the eye and mind
to put at ease. Dark now as the golden moon
takes it's Majasties place. What a simply wonderful day.
Giving sigh it's over I could do this forever. Time to go back to my home
in Arkansas. We have beautiful sunsets there as well. Beautiful mountains,
streams, forests, springs, caves, clear lakes await for me to revisit.
The air is clean with a fragrant scent, purple, yellow, orange, lavender,
azure, indigo, cardinal, porcalin, pink and more colors than I can
describe wild flowers frow. Clear blue rivers rush with white roaring
rapids to float, forests of emerald abundant to explore. Mountains
treacherous to scale, Hot springs to sooth and heal both body and
spirit. Diamonds to find, red, champagne, blue, sparkling enchanting
exquisite. Crystals bound in the mines near the healing hot springs,
amythest, garnets, water crystals, rubies and jasper in georgeous
colors crafted into rings, bracelets, pendants, watch bands and so
many more elegant things. I may never get to return to the beloved
beaches again in my life, but I still have all these wonderous things
in My Natural Arkansas. However if I am fortunate enough to return to
the glorious oceans and beaches, I will once again enjoy the treasures,
pleasures, sunsets to behold so bold and vibrant, more wonderful
memories if it comes to pass. one never knows for certain what lays
ahead down lifes path so onward we go and enjoy each blessing
that the Lord has prepared to us to see. Hopefully we will learn on
this journey to love, care for and share with each other.
written 17th Sept 2013
When it comes to love, I AM poisonous
don't let me curse another, leave me loveless
For the first time in my life, I felt your pain and cried for your heart
my heart finally hurts, knowing I passed this pain from the start
Please find help to set your heart free
trust me, it's not a life you recover from easily
Damaged goods I told you, unrepairable
but some how, you managed the impossible
Unlovable for my entire life
yet you had no problem, getting me to become your wife
Yes, it's been more than both of us should have ever had to bear
at this moment, every cell in my body is overwhelmed, so I really do care
Please don't enter my life's pain and despair
you don't deserve it, you are so patient and filled with such love
I'm sorry I let myself fall in love knowing it would poison you
soul mates forever and eternity, my love belongs only to you...
Innocent Perfection Of Vibes Across The Telephone Line
A stranger call’s familiar voice familiar tone
How do I amend for such a tone?
Sinecure as a ghost to father past question remain have we met before?
So the question that I a post do you believe, in coincidence or do you belief in fate
So I decide to chat with her a minute to find out what her truth agenda was-
As we would speak more and more we would start and finish one another sentence’s
And time with in time we would speak of the exact words in between sentences, a rare a currency
Solomon tears do applied to form but I what it to pause and ask her, sure
You don’t have the wrong number what a coincidence that I was nineteen all on my on, and
As I beginning to fall to sleep the telephone had begun to ring. Maybe it was fate
As when I did decide to get a phone to get long distance as well, it looking in deeper.
Only a fool would be dumb
Found it to
Hang up on such a soothing tone. As she kept the conversation with in an hour about her son that got
College sports that happen to be part Cherokee same as me
All I kept thinking is when did I register to vote?
Soul channeling bed chancing we seem to be on a different plane,
Maybe it’s me or maybe it is us if god put us together surely the heaven would rumple,
A vibe this strong could surely deceive the devil, (hat trick)
Ghost handle of a ring barrel of a magnificent figure of mist of sure air of breeze seen such vibes across
Telephone line chills ran up and down my body standing strain hair up to freeze saying to myself what a
Wonderful innocent of perfection to make an acquaintance still hook on the fact it was coincidence as
Apologize for speaking so long and thank me for being a great listener-
Two and half years later time well spend in the hood that felt more like prison and trust me I’m from the
Like Ice cream milk and cream please and what I was told if I could make it in That hood
I could make it in any giving hood giving the repetition of
My city –
It may have been fate as the whole project was rebuild spiritually and finance by the state
And I had move into an apartment complex as I was told could go for a
1,000 in upstate; fate or coincidence as this familiar voice would call again but this time different name
And she what it to sell me a product and what me to be partners in a company and water who could
Market water and profit and,
Idea Chesire to believe, but those that did belief proceed and say once again I said to myself when did
I get money all and all six year later I was and looking to relocation the phone rings again instead of
Was this coincidence or fate? First thing came to mind was
“Some One Clue Me In”-
I figure out whom this Anonymous person was
But when I say who in the world gives gift cards for cable all away from west
Coast to “City That I’m From” saying to myself, is it still a recession? Was this fate?
I had a place to live or did I have a Guardian Angel?
Question after Question Miss and serve me-
Will I ever get pay for my endeavors and read a quote that said “no good deed goes unpunished”
And phone ring once more-
The look in A man’s eyes never lies asking once more
Was This Fate Or Coincidence-
And the last words that came to mind before the college basketball finals game came on was
Captivating and Memorizing-
The Godliness of Adoption is...
Or is it not?
…A beautiful spring sprig floret of rose. A rose brought home from our humanity's colorful garden of trust? Yet, was it not all that long ago when the cut of each stem entrusted to its own gardener's worthy and caring hands?
Hands, now too soon stripped and emptied.
Hands that were easily led astray by the coersions of now self-appointed zealots.
They, with hands marked with ever stained bloody thorn pricked fingers, which now present each torn stem of rose on heaven-like sent pedestals; until met is a king's ransom; these thirty pieces of silver, the ask of many an angelic broker.
Or is it not?
...An act next to Godliness when these angels of guise are loosed to search in the mist of this motherland?
They, the finders of our pink and blue hued overflow spillage of souls.
This is nature of guised humanity. Delicately does it assist society in the dredge of waiting collection ponds, pools of tears that gleamingly mirror you and I; and from where our memory should fill with sounds. The siren-like cries of which, now link with our distantly lost... ...or coldly disengage of our not of want…
Or is it not?
...The beautiful water lilys of pond? Those that so serenely float above a never skimming conscience that is this God-fearing nation; a polarized complacency so sweetly lost amidst its own mesmerizing shimmer, and without inkling of shame, all innocence of eyes fail to see through transparency by such weakly given puruse. A view that cannot pierce the murkily veiled mire that hides just below its own watery reflection...
...And where underneath trails this triad’s tangled web that will soon unravel in route to tie with each long waited conscience…
Adoption is it or is it not our "Humanities with Consequence"?
If there is anything more beautiful than yourself in this world,
That must be your reflection within my eyes, while we are making love
And I see you, the most beautiful woman on my earth.
Poet: Ken Jordan
Story: Heart Of Gold
Edited by: Sparkle Jordan
There is a little boy, maybe
eight years old, in Freeport, in the
Bahamas, that doesn't know he's poor,
and hustling to survive.
His gracious soul left me with
a humble heart, and the image of him,
will always be itched in my mind.
He was polite with a smile
that lit-up the harbor, as he sold his
mother's tea cakes from a cardboard box
for a dollar.
His unselfish spirit, and
Yet, sad eyes, greeted me,
long before he said a word.
He was setting on a concrete slab
near the waterfront, behind a dilapidated
wall of ruins, to shield himself from
the (unusually) cold February Island winds.
His clothes were torn, tattered;
he had no coat, and he wore no shoes,
and his eyes defined the meaning of,
"below the poverty line."
Yet, he was a kind little boy,
and through life's short coming's,
he remained grateful, humble, and
still managed to smile.
The thought of being poor
never crossed his mind, he did what
his mother ask him to do, just sale
tea cakes, that she made for a dollar.
The image of this precious
little boy, from Freeport, will
forever be captured in my mind,
and in my heart -
So when you go to Freeport,
in the Bahamas, I hope you're blessed
to meet the little boy with the great
big smile, and a cardboard box,
selling tea cakes near the waterfront.
The most beautiful place
Above the Bavarian resort town of Garmisch-Partenkirchen,
There winds a country road which leads to the Partnach gorge.
Hikers are passed by less hearty tourists transported in hay wagons.
On the left side of the road, a river can be spotted through the lindens.
The river water looks like it was drawn with aquamarine pastels,
Having been super-oxygenated from the gorge’s rapids and cascades.
Playful locals built miniature dwellings and piers along the banks.
Loggers used to hike up the dangerous gorge to unblock log jams,
So safer paths were tunneled in and along the walls of the gorge.
So many sight-seers used to sneak up the loggers trails for the views,
That logging ceased and the gorge became a tourist destination.
At the mouth of the gorge, a guest house sells carbonated buttermilk,
Weiswurst, and other Bavarian specialties to fortify or refresh.
During the holiday season, pilgrims carefully hike the trails
Carrying torches which reflect from the icicles and frozen walls.
Waterfalls, narrows, bridges, and a logger chapel
All add to the charm of Partnach Gorge.
The clock strikes twelve
and it is time for her to go now,
I hold her for another hour;
she tells me she really has to be going,
then I say, "My love, don't leave me."
I am afraid of the dark
and I need your love
I need you;
both you and I need each other.
"I really must be going," she says.
I hear it in her voice,
she doesn't want to go either,
as a blooming rose says to wintertime,
I hold her hand and I kiss her soft lips.
She is tense,
but she loves, and she loves good.
My dear, one more hour that is all I ask;
do that for me, if you truly love me.
(Times ticks and tocks, as the old grandfather clock gongs-
-My love another hour please,
leave with me,
go with me,
to the garden of beauty and love with me-
Come now my love, another hour we spend together,
I cannot help myself, but hold you closer and closer to my heart,
one more hour,
let me crawl in your heart and warm your soul,
and watch a movie in your mind,
a sweet romantic movie- no popcorn or soda- for I wouldn't want to dirty your mind,
and we shall go together,
and love together simultaneously, to the ticking of the old grandfather clock.
Only an hour more my dear- my love an hour more is all I need.
Wrapped in your arms
My soul awakened
From a long dark sleep
My heart is now alive
No more do I weep
My lover’s smile
So tender and true
A sweet ray of God’s sunshine
Lead me to you
Where once my heart
No more do I fear
Love is now all that I hear
So hold me close
My darling one
With you by my side
All fear is gone….
On a beautiful September morning on a little country farm
The young woman’s hand went deftly under the hen into the nest
withdrawing an egg, immediately candling it and returning it to the nest.
This egg is fertile and will hatch to give the farm another laying hen or rooster.
6 firtile eggs returned to their nests and 16 sterial eggs went to the kitchen table.
On a beautiful September morning at a little country school
The new students have just settled down on that exciting first day of school
The first grade teacher Miss Koki spent the morning with each of her new brood
individually at thier desk and as they got to know each other a little better she looked
into the bright shining eyes of each child for that spark of a fertile young mind
These we will keep for a while to become doctors, nurses, teachers…
As all I’d ever termed wondrous bliss unexpectedly died -
As my fantasy of a reality with destruction did collide -
My hopes shattered around me like glass in countless pieces,
Fragments suspended in mocking beauty as time freezes…
The clock hand ticks forward and it all crashes to the floor
My knees hit rock-bottom when I could take no more
All I now see is blackness where once there was color
Gone appears the light from the sun and its fervor…
I begin to walk away from the pond of shattered dreams
But the glass is in my clothes and cutting through my heart, it seems
Perhaps I am too close, the smoke is clouding my full view-
Glance up at the tower, instinctively know what to do…
Run up the steps; one, two,three hundred endless stairs
And I barely catch my breath, or have time to fill lungs with air -
Before the ground beneath my feet crumbles into sand
Loud thunder above me rumbles as I fall back down on land…
And I hit rock-bottom again
Thinking this must be the end
For surely no human can go through this pain
And still see rainbows through the rain…
The whole world seems gray and black tonight
With not a speck of pure, identifiable white in sight
Nothing is untouched, gone is everything -
Then how do I glimpse in that crack a thin white string?
Among the dirt, surely this uncorrupted clean string is not real
But just to verify the hopeless doubts, I reach out a hand to feel
And to my electric surprise, it’s most tangible indeed
I yank it out attached to a note, uncrumple it and read:
“Verily, with every hardship comes ease” [Quran 94:6]
That white thread...
I can no longer see past the trees
They stand solemn in line.
Their dark outline
Weeping from the sky.
All I can hear
Is the faint heartbeat
Coming from my chest.
It’s getting faster
As my breaths
It would appear
That I am choking
On the fog.
My lungs can no longer take
This dense air
That’s creeping in my mouth
And filling me.
I start to run
Into the forest
How far can I go in?
Before I’m halfway out
The fog chases
Until it has consumed
One day I said to love
Will you be rain
She is speechless !
Next day I expressed to love
Will you be sunshine
She is soundless !
Day after day , I have been requesting her
Will you be sky
Will you be bird
Will you be my pleasure
She is silent !
one day love says to me
You will be soil
And I shall be flower
Thenceforth when the flower kisses to the soil
Memorial of love is created at that place
Did you observe it !
SANDIP GOSWAMI, INDIA
If one could be a beautiful flower
How would they spend their day
Would they blossom in the adulation
That many others may send its way
Would its spirit nourish the hearts
Of those who are blessed to see
The color of its very lovely soul
And its wonderful endearing vibrancy
Or would it shun the light that comes
From the brilliance of a new Sun
Shying away from its special gift
To make a day better for someone
For though it may seem its true beauty
Quickly vanishes over a very short time
I find true value in its enchanting embrace
I'll forever admire in my heart and mind.
We don’t belong to each other, and yet we do
We don’t share a house, a car or a bath
We do share a journey, a destiny, a laugh
We don’t see each other the way that we would
We see happiness, contentment and things that feel good
We don’t argue, fuss, we don’t disagree
We kiss we hug and we let things be
We don’t have what is common, accepted or right
We have what is real, unexpected our plight
We don’t understand, can’t explain, couldn’t predict
We have what we have, each other and that’s it.
Most things that we know
aren't even worth knowing,
it's all pomp, and glamor,
wicked lies mind is throwing.
The ego's all shiny,
all sparkly, and bright
as it spews forth sweet lies,
turning day into night.
The bigger the better,
no losing, just win,
we must have it all,
there's no thought about sin,
as we dig ourselves deeper,
and forget who we are,
beautiful, perfect, inimitable star.
Some things are lost along the line
Some things, beautiful and fine
Driving down the lone road to the stream in my hamlet
It’s like yesterday; like catching birds from their nest
I giggled as I drove by
Mothers breast feeding babies and singing lullaby
Naked boys rolling condemned tires, and
Ripped virgins with little cloths coverings, as attires
I giggled as I drove by. It’s just like yesterday
I remember Jerome and others as we gathered to play
There was the moonlight rendezvous
Where we all gathered, boys, and girls, all of us
There was the tales by the moonlight,
Ancestral heritages, sacrifices and the Lion’s might
The Lion’s might, yet he falls beneath the crafty tortoise
I still can hear the choruses; I hear my youthful voice
I loved folklore songs. Wars songs for strong sons
Let me try seeing if I can still sing one more;
Yes! I still can sing “Omalingwo”
Omalingwo, Omalingwo tee …… Omalingwo
Omalingwo, Omalingwo nwam…… Omalingwo
Omalingwo, Omalingwo dia …… Omalingwo
Nne nei di na Otutu-aja-o………..Omalingwo
Elikwue ma yu atuna ngwo ji ……Omalingwo
Ngwo, ngwo onye oma………….Omalingwo
My God, I feel new!
I can still sing it! Oh God I knew!
Omalingwo! Story of the child of a deprived mother
Jealous king’s wives over ready for murder
Murder and deprivation if that will give them a son
To sit on the king’s throne and shine forth like the sun
Story of good over evil. Omalingwo!
A deprived mother’s son.
I giggled as I drove along,
Remembering my tiny breasts, when they formed
And more fortunate girls laughing me to scorn
I remember these things till sadness beclouded me
I am fully grown now; nostalgia overshadow me
My age mates, plus me, all gone to the cities
We can’t assemble again, just like broken pot in pieces
Oh! The Eve’s tempting apple of white collar jobs
I heard Jerome lived and then died in Jos
Killed by religious rioters with missions unjust.
I heard Nwasombia is a head dresser is Lagos
At 52 and still searching? Celibacy is obvious
I heard Nosike is in aviation, head of pilots
Even Chima is now in parliament in Cyprus
Chima, who spoke big English like “opprobrious”
My age mates, plus me, all gone to the cities
No more gatherings, just like broken pot in pieces
Still driving along the lone road to the hamlet stream
Still thinking of beautiful things
The beautiful hamlet serene things.
Oh beautiful Sunday morning,
Glad to meet you oh beautiful Sunday morning,
Though you are windy and snowy in appearance,
Yet I wouldn't mind having a walk with you to the house of worship.
Sometimes I have the courage to think of the things that made me what I am today,
My memory takes me back to terrible things far away far off into my bitter past,
My mind like a maze of dirty black alleys that smell of waste, loss and disgust,
The losses, the drink ripped away, not happy until it was all gone respect as well.
Invisible thinks of a garden where roses clustered with lilies scent on the breeze,
Bees found stores of honey in the petals of a thousand and one different flowers,
Lovers walked hand in hand along its winding path a beautiful dream of the man,
Bright with the embroidery of nature where children played in new myrtle flowers,
As Invisible thinks of this garden it is neglected but flowers can grow with weeds,
It could put a smile upon his face, a face that had never known any joy recently,
He hopes a gardener can covert this garden get rid of ruined waste, back into Eden,
Tending all the beautiful flowers that spring up with the weeds and smell gladness.
If he helped the gardener in his quest a hand might hold his and guide him through,
Maybe a hand would go around his waist to support him as well as guide his hand,
Dare he wish that the guiding hand and the support would be his angel from heaven,
A dear person to help him clear his garden and walk down the winding path as lovers.
An angel that would smile at him maybe hold his hand and squeeze it so very gently,
Would the angel talk to him and tell him that one day they would be together again,
Her beautiful grace shining warmly as she looks up to him, to her he is her hero,
Not a drunken mess that cannot cope, not a dirty vagrant, but her knight her love.
The tenderness of this beautiful scene in his poisoned mind became real he smiled,
He grinned as she sat down next to him as close a she could get then wriggled closer,
Warmth from her body not only warmed him but gave hope this what he has waited for,
She whispered sweetly she loved him and would be waiting for him and they kissed.
Invisible woke with a start and was she not by his side, was she ever with him,
A dream another heart wrenching let down and how could he have dreamed the dream,
It was so real he still felt the warmth, the impression of her hand holding his,
But it must have been a dream his own mind conspired to deliver the hardest blow.
Lost in a grief so deep, his loneliness complete he talks to Sam his imaginary friend.
These days get worse Sam they really do please help me,
I need to change but I need my drink more what can I do,
But I need to change so desperately Sam can you help?
My world has cracked and I've fallen into the crack,
But what I don't understand Sam that I was once good,
If I had any courage Sam I would be laying in my coffin,
Why does life drag you along with it I don't want to go,
Just a bit of icing on my cake Sam it is freezing cold,
Did you know this is where I was brought up my friend,
Did you know that most of the people that walk past I knew,
Sam! I know many of there people but they don't know me,
Why do they all walk past I wish somebody would help,
Maybe when I have drunk more cider I might feel better Sam,
I can remember being happy but not what being happy is like,
As Invisible sits drinking shoppers give him a wide berth and they look at him with hate.
These people Sam they look at me as if I have hurt them,
The people they are not our sort of people they hate me,
Has the world changed like I have but in opposite ways,
My life is full of sorrow drunkenness and dreams Sam,
Old sorrows wont go away new sorrows should take over,
So we have to face both the old and the new that's bad,
At night I try to close my drunken eyes it all returns,
Sam is that the same as you can you close your eyes,
Can you remember the valleys Sam the ones we used to play,
When we ran about all day Sam in the sun rolling in grass,
The old stream that twisted and turned, it had lost its way,
Floating lolly sticks watching them bounce away on ripples,
Buying bangers in November and throwing them into the water,
What I wouldn't do to go back for just a couple of hours Sam,
Just to feel the innocence and try to bring it back to now,
To enjoy what there is to enjoy and maybe get better Sam,
But that will never happen Sam we are lost on an island,
A well populated island but an island all the same Sam,
People are not like ships they don't bother to rescue people,
They just walk around or just walk away all the nice ones gone,
I remember my school Sam it's now been knocked down and left,
It has all gone, all gone no primroses in spring or bluebells,
Do you remember Sam the bluebells used to nod in the wind,
But they have all been built on, whats the use in talking,
Nothing changes from bad to good Sam remember that, eh Sam,
Still drinking his cider tears well into his eyes his nose runs and begins to quietly
to sob. He sits on the shopping parade seat, shaking as he sobs. His throat has a lump
in it so he stops talking to Sam. Invisible sinks his wet face into his overcoat
hides his misery from the people that walk past he just sat there lost and confused. His
greatest sadness an angel paid a visit to the maze of dirty black alleys that smell of waste,
loss and disgust,