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Prose Poetry Sorry Poems | Prose Poetry Poems About Sorry

These Prose Poetry Sorry poems are examples of Prose Poetry poems about Sorry. These are the best examples of Prose Poetry Sorry poems written by international PoetrySoup poets

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Details | Prose Poetry | |

Fabel24

 Fabel24 
Fabel24 
 
 
CHARLAX 
 
CHARLEXES FABELS 
 
CONVERTED 
SAVED CONVERTED INVERTED CRUCIFIED DEAD BUT NOT YET BURIED 
Kiss the ewe she never cries she never sighs she stays happy all the times we 
try. The eye was stopped by a patrolman in the middle of my walk to the church to 
lay my layman down to rest a night a bite of something not so sweet in bag to 
help me live. He said ADDRESS what is your ADDRESS like it's the most 
important thing to have NO eye said NO eye do not have a TUCSON address just 
one in Flagstaff. HOMELESS he said. NO eye said eye have the ADDRESS in 
FLAGSTAFF the one on my ID card. NO he said you are just HOMELESS in 
TUCSON. He noticed that eye cared nothing for any of that. WHY did yew not say 
that to begin WITH he said to me and eye just tried to ignore a man who has the 
world to shrug upon his Atlast Shoulders? PHONE he said ??? No phone what's 
your cell phone??? 
EEYE do not have a PHONE NO CELL PHONE eye almost cried. 
NO NUMBER NO PLACE IN THIS WORLD TO CALL MY HOME. 
The Indian has no feather he is saved now he is in Heaven beside the MEE. Live 
in life wrap the world outside live the life of love and learn to live and love. Eat a 
LOT of CHARLAX eat a lot of poems eat a lot of Fabels now. 


Details | Prose Poetry | |

And Then I Pray

You came into my life, why? I didn’t invite you, I never wanted you around, you 
know this , but you will not leave, you don’t know how much I hate you, and yet I 
don’t hate anyone or anything. When you hate, to me, it is the same as killing. If I 
only knew how to kill you ……. It would have been done many times over. I awake 
every morning and there you are, ready to make my life miserable, the one thing 
you enjoy most in your life. Wherever I go, you follow bringing your misery into my 
life. Why cant you just leave and leave me in peace? I fight with you every day, and 
it hurts so much, so much it hurts to fight with anyone, even you. There is one 
way and only one way to rid you of me. I think of this often, but then where would I 
be? I would not be, because you are part of me, your name is bi-polar. Handed 
down from my father and from his father, and from me to my son, but he refuses 
to recognize you, so he fights you without help he could get. If he would only say I 
know who you are. I hurt for him everyday, and then I pray.
Oh God please forgive me for what I have brought upon my son. Son, I love you, 
and am so sorry for what you go through. Maybe someday we will talk again. Dad


Details | Prose Poetry | |

The color of love

Without him beside me, my future seems so bleak, being naïve, 
i was told he was not meant for me. Ignoring this world of cruelty
and its power tear our world apart. Now sitting i ponder why I being so naïve from the very start

My tomorrow will never come, for I will forever live in his yesterday. Turning my back on the one who loved me in every single way.
Not even time can heal a shattered heart, but I guess somewhere in his heart he loved me after all

Many times I’ve dreamt of him and unable to hide my tears,
As I reminisce that sad day I decide we go our separate ways,
I pinch myself, as in a dream, knowing it is not true,
How could I let go of such a man, no woman would ever do.

I remember the look in his eyes when he dropped by and found my note. Pain crippled on his face leaving such a heart in pain, as he read along “My heart is with you but I will forever be alone, never will you and I share a place of our own. Rejected by all to cross the color line thinking my love is blind".

 If again such a love should come my way, I’d break free of those dark days I’d confess my true heart and reject the rest and  break through this racial barrier and fallow my lovers path wherever he lead to ease this heart that beat to grieve.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

DAMAGED MY TRUE LOVE

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...




Details | Prose Poetry | |

Stolen Hearts

Cold, callus, crying, shivering,
and covered in sweat.
Wondering what has happened.
Not yet understanding this fate I’ve met.

What of a guy that stumbled around,
just trying his hardest to show he’d been found,
after all he had just been purchased
from the human pound.


That promise to you.
Man I broke it.
I told you Id stop,
and for a time I did,
but that stuff two blocks away,
my will power just wasn't work-n.
My wrist watch again broken.
Always from the look on my face,
you could tell Id been smoke-n.


You tried.
You tried so hard,
but the mind wasn’t mine.
only a shell of what used to be,
all of me you were trying to find,
and I didn’t get this till my alone time.


I was pushing.
You were pulling.
Then it all pushed you away.
It was all down hill from here,
so naturally you couldn’t stay.


I sit here so sad
for the way you must of felt.
Let alone how you dealt.
Ill never understand how I could do this to you.
You're so prefect,
even your aura dances in ambient light.
You’re the best friend I could of had,
and that leaves me really mad,
that the rest of the world
may never know what we had.

The thing is I know now,
that you loving me.
This really was Much more,
than I loving you.

~Ha,Turned around this insecurity was always mine.~


Details | Prose Poetry | |

I Hope You Know I'll Always Love You

I am what you call a hopeless 
romantic,
But im also a lost lovers cause, my 
heart belongs to another
Yet in my head a love triangle starts 
to form, the girl I love doesn’t love 
me
She holds the heart to another and 
mine caged to the floor,
She isn’t afraid to fight for what she 
wants, not even when it comes to 
leaving another man torn
Trust me she’s happy, as that boy 
holds her heart ever so close
Seeing what I shouldn’t I smile as I 
wear my blind fold,
Blind to everything around, lifeless 
staring into air
My train of thought running so fast, 
the second I stop you’ll hear a crash
Derailing my hope, for ever finding a 
love so pure & rare
Wishing I could hold the hand of the 
lover who stole my flame,
Wish I could change the last days in 
which we parted ways,
Realizing now that we can never be 
the same
Finally saying it out loud as tears run 
down my face
You stole my happiness, as I walked 
away that day
But it’s because as of what you said 
I guessed I changed,
Now every relationship has just be 
the same,
No one can seem to bring back that 
flame,
Because a love likes ours comes 
once in a lifetime
Well at least it does to me,
But I mean you’re happy with who 
your with 
I mean I only wrote this as I heard 
exchanging “I love you” flow from 
each of your lips.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Chounds like

 Chounds like 
100hundred58 
 
 
 
CharlaXFabels 
 
Chounds like 

 Eye chased mye deer into the rough the golf was tough and leathery the ball 
wound up in the gulf near the coarse leather coat the top coated layer of infinity. 
When every internet address is placed into the category suited to it best and 
every number has been named and everyone is best at what they do not just 
where they are could it be hard to let them off to la la land to make them just to 
understand the slot the slotted place therein. The lob lolly cained there was two 
of them they rub and shudder expectantly in exctasy like twine boarding a fence 
posting to the dead letter offices in all the land. The firmimentnation of the united 
stations was attacked with hate the rabbit tripped over the log anon and said 
quite frankly my dear eye don't give a darn who who is. They drugged the maiden 
dragged her screaming from the bed the water stain will set in the rug don't ewe 
understand it was to be this afternoon not later in the day not tomorrow anyway it 
has to be soon after noon. The goon dropped a cup and he grumbled and he 
gripped it in one hand and it slide like the banana peeling from the tree shaded 
oasis banana vines green black men picking them forking bales of hey what was 
that noise a student in the background just redialing all his porn so sure that all 
those girls are doing time to make him worn. Egads the Chounds are about us 
they have been released on Edgar come Allen forward POE. They foxed the 
kittens and sometimes the medical officer gets some extra hush money to look 
the other way is danger danger warning warning the alien is coming. When you 
must explain anything a joke or silent laughter a penny for your thoughts the 
hidden manna best sometimes to leave unsaid the thing so evident for iff she 
has not gotten it a lenghty explainnation will not further it along the windsome 
parapet the jester faking it has lost the thread the limits of the outer kind 
surpassed in unbelief. Nothing is perfect in scrabble blast eye have noticed 
sometimes there is only one tile left over but it still gives ewe the option of 
scrambling the letters and it even tosses the tile up in a vain attempt to move the 
thing in semblance of the shuffeling required by law in this game. Survival 
dictates like a witch brewing portents in the ditch poor and sinful man disgraced 
walking to the human race the chounds to chase. 


Details | Prose Poetry | |

"V~O~V"

"V~O~V"


IF I WERE GRANTED FORTUNE N' FAME...
THOSE WHO CONSIDER ME LIABILITY,WOULD ACKNOWLEDGE ME LOVED
TH' SPILLING OF MY BLOOD,MIGHT EVEN BRING A STITCH OF COMPASSION
I'D NEVER BE ALONE,'LESS I REQUESTED ME LET BE


COMPANY DOES NOT LOVE MISERY,SO NOW I'M KEPT AT A DISTANCE
ALL I EVER WANTED OUT OF LIFE,WAS TO RECIEVE AS MUCH CARE AS I GIVE
BUT MOOT IS TH' FACT,THEY WANT ME OUT OF MIND N' VIEW
LITTLE IT IS KNOWN,OF TH' AFFLICTIONS I MUST ENDURE...FOR THEM


IF I WROUGHT MIRACLES AT WILL,TH' MEEK WOULD 'DEED RULE
SINS OF TH' SHAMELESS,WOULD ALL BE MADE KNOWN
A SILVER'D SCREEN OF TH' SKIES,WOULD DISPLAY THEIR DESECRATIONS
VICTIMS OF THEIR TRESSPASSES,WOULD DECIDE OF THEIR FATES


FAR FROM BEING PERFECT,I TOO...WOULD BE ASHAMED
BUT FOR SCARLET OF PAST BREACHINGS,I WOULD BEG FOR TH' BLANCHING
NEVER THAN LESS...THEIR WILL WOULD BE DONE
FOR FUTILE IS FORGIVENESS,IF NOT TRULY...


...IT IS WON



~AZAZA~'09


Details | Prose Poetry | |

the two drunk

They want to enjoy
As they drink beer too much]
They think the result will be glad
And they laugh about it

Suddenly she fails to walk
He also loses memory complete
Their prediction is wrong
They support on each walking going wrong way

They didn’t listen to their parent’s advice
At least someone told you’re going the wrong way
Now they can’t move again
They sit in confusion blaming each other

They sit until they are normal
They now reject what they did
Although they think it was fun
As they disobeyed parental advice


Details | Prose Poetry | |

1one2two9nine

 1one2two9nine 
1one2two9nine 
 
 
CharlaXFabels 
 
 
WiseorFoolish 

 DOING WHAT THE JESUS SAID 
Eye am risking the loss of some merits to at least prove to some of you that to do 
the works of JESUS is the right and lawful thing to do the man was just like me 
he seems to be a homeless and eye asked him to share my food he said no he 
was taken care of a food card from the service. Eye wound up giving nothing but 
a courtesy yet my blessing is unending the words that JESUS speaks are meant 
to be the life we breathe and giving is so certainly the thing to do. Not bragging 
unnecessarily just letting people knoe to do the works he says to do. Offer 
someone food if they can take it it will help you if they refuse it you can eat it 
seems to me there is nothing there to lose. Now the food eye have to eat is better 
for the act of sharing even the man is not eating with me the food it's doubly 
better in proportions. Show me the house that's built on stilts that's built on sand. 
There is a temporary church that meets inside the main church building they 
usually start the service at nine thirty today they went out on a run away there was 
no church service even eye usually go just to knell down near the table and thank 
Jesus for the offering there there is Coffee and some coffee cake and other 
things as well but today eye am on mye own attempting more than one thing at a 
time it seems beyond the eye trying to stay hooked into the wonder of this life for 
it seems like GOD is just like Santa Clause to me when we have it in our heart to 
do he sees it just the same. 
Eye still carry my raincoat my umbrella even though it has not rained for many 
weeks I'm ready. The place eye like to visit has been pulled out from under me 
the preacher needs to visit his own prayer room just to see how dark his heart is 
to become without his love. He warned me not to trespass and so far eye have 
not been back but the wonder of it all is that the place still seems to stand a 
monument to decadence a monument to disgrace. They knoe that eye am 
homeless eye still walk the street without a place. The blankets in the dump 
seem so nice when eye am cold. Foolishness or wisdom tell me preacher what 
would you do when the sky was falling would you stick your turkey neck up to the 
rain and then just drown or would you find a church with a poor doorway to get 
dry. The path is narrow the climb is steep and harrow the preacher fast asleep. 
Eye cry a homeless to the end of time. 



Details | Prose Poetry | |

141onefortyone

 141onefortyone 
141onefortyone 
 
 
 
CharlaXFabels 
EwewonthelotteryNOT 
 

 Dear Recipient: You have won the lottery. 
Please add this address to your address book immediately so that we have our 
fishhookers in you from the start. This is VIP BENDSMORE from the obscure 
village of Pretendmore in East South Africa; we have upwards of ThirtyThree 
Millions Gold Bullions Cubes taken from the diamond mines of Kenya. Can you 
send us all your unknown information so we can fleece your pockets with our 
real inventions avarice and greed; we aim our guns to please. Send us nammes 
we need addresses we want numbers dates of birth and places we need to 
knoe the namme of all the ancestors so we can dig them up and do it to them 
also we need money in the form of PayPal send it to us by the score. You are 
also the one billionth customer we have a bonus a real raw diamond taken from 
the belly of the statue of the Qyeen of Sheba standing in front of the only Pyramid 
left in South Africa the Temple of Dome. We will send you the diamond when 
southern places freezes over Rodger and outside the ball one a swing and a 
miss the Swiss have many freebank accounts we want several more. To verify 
the account we will need the account number. Make the money in various 
denominations marked in small bills at least less than the Hundred Dollars so 
prone to counterfeit. So ewe want to be a writer it is not easy ewe to consistently 
come up with new ideas day after day document after document and make it 
pleasing to the eye and to the public view. Remit the African Qyeen list the 
holdings in your vault one by naked one send the stain sealed cartons with the 
nammes of all deceased upon them make the Africa River falter in its flow with 
barges laden with the heaps of dough. Remit mee send it rather quickly the need 
is efferpheasant rapid transit in my Africa Jungle is the local version of the snail 
the backs of Natives's heavy laden with the burdens of the way upon the lithe 
black ebon forms they sway in rhythms like a long slick serpent moving in a row. 
Please add Seventy five cents for deposit. We found a founder he will send us all 
the more he is the President of Baltimore the Oriel. Ewe remember him the long 
tall one with the largesse straw hat the one who did the 7 Up commercial oh did 
eye say HAT no his head was shiny bald. Try saying that one quickly in the cold. 



Details | Prose Poetry | |

Memories June 9 1999

The touches, tears and cries for help, a child living in fear.
Being told never to tell a soul, to ashamed to look in the mirror.
Not being able to trust anyone, because of being betrayed.
Now haunted by what has been done, praying the memories will fade.
Surrounded by many shattered dreams and all hope taken away.
Drowning in fear of being violated again, their eyes plead the words they can not say.
The memories will always stay with a child buried deep into the mind.
A permanent barrier now built within, keeping anything from getting inside.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Lost Love WLM March 29 2011

I feel so hurt
And so much like a jerk
For I have lost my dream
Just let it out and scream
What did I do
Can I ask you
Am I to be alone
All I can do is groan
I ask God will it ever be
Does she really want me
Please Lord let her call
For me to be that is all
I am so stuck in a rut
Do I just give up
Can not hold back the tears
The return of all my fears
I hope to see
That she really needs me
I will never know
For she will have to show
Can you give me my best friend
Or have I lost her again
Tell me did I sin
Should I just give in
I am at my wits end
Knowing not where to begin
I sit here and moan
At me just throw the heavy stone
Please, oh please hit the mark
Then I know it will break my heart
I always feel the use
Finally I remember the abuse
My feelings inside
Will never subside
Why not go ahead and fall
With my life just end it all
Does anyone really care
That would be so rare
For all I feel is lost
And in the end that is the cost




Details | Prose Poetry | |

Reality

perfection, who would have thought him perfect?
without his words, i know no other truth
reality,
the mother of my existence, you gave birth to twins
euphoria and agony,
oh agony!
reality,
i ask for only a moment to bury myself inside
his soul, his mind, I want to be with it, of it
i need to breathe him, fill my lungs with love,
with life,
why can't I?
REALITY!
oh to cast you back to the depths of hell, demon!
to come into a life, just to taunt...
there is no hatred so pure, as the one i hold for you
for you today,
reality,
you have taken away my heart,
that was your wicked plan all along
was it not?
well,
reality,
without him,  I have nothing left to lose,
no sanity left to keep me afloat
so,
reality,
today you have been defeated
i have always held the key
it's almost tragic, oh
reality,
do you realize you cannot exist
without me?
so say your prayers,
as this war comes to a bloody end
we were both martyrs for the same cause-
reality.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

11009

11009
CharlaXFabels
HOW ROOD
They took a cart with four wheels scootered by me just to almost hit my foot they 
tried to run between the bus stop and the bench where eye was standing waiting 
for the bus just missing one that left me almost got the dust she flipped at me 
with her middle finger she had to knoe that eye was there she meant to make me 
feel bad so what she said he was not there at the stop yet  this old man found 
and scrounge is better than a gang and take this poem is for FOUND things 
sarcasm is lost inside a deep dark hole I don’t want to take it with me overheard 
and listened to the conversation all anew again in my imprinted memory as I 
pen,  this; ODE to rudeness,  eye have been told there is NO LAW against cell 
phones or decent public conversations Its hard to see he is my poor brother eye 
keep my own needs simple and eye travel light, 
And keep all of Egypt on my back, but some people need the even more security 
a four wheeled   
Shopping –cart can afford them the demonic teachings of the classroom just 
made me realize that eye would leave my education in the great wastebasket of 
the sky eye would learn some other thing eye would leave the classroom without 
thinking never embracing death and the mark of the rejection of the lord the 
millennium mark the 666 mark of the beast called SATAN.
Rood        rud - Show Spelled Pronunciation [rood] Pronunciation Key - Show IPA 
Pronunciation, 
–noun 
1.	a crucifix, esp. a large one at the entrance to the choir or chancel of a 
medieval church, often supported on a rood beam or rood screen. 
2.	a cross as used in crucifixion. 
3.	a unit of length varying locally from 51/2 to 8 yards (5 to 7 m). 
4.	a unit of land measure equal to 40 square rods or 1/4 acre (0.10117 
hectare). 
5.	a unit of 1 square rod (25.29 sq. m). 
6.	Archaic. the cross on which Christ died. 
________________________________________
[Origin: bef. 900; ME; OE rōd pole, crucifix; c. G Rute rod, twig ] 
Dictionary.com Unabridged (v 1.1)
Based on the Random House Unabridged Dictionary, © Random House, Inc. 
2006.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

11009

11009
CharlaXFabels
HOW ROOD
PARTTWO
The decadence of Society, RUDE, has finally sickened me; the only thing to do is 
pray to GOD to quicken me when he bumped me and all eye did was make the 
references to his ancestory his intentions were just nominal he wanted to survive 
and they think that they are GOD the man was nice until eye started to converse 
with him it rally hurts there feelings when eye have a less terse verse the Mexican 
bumped my bag and actually hit it with his arm in an effort to move it out of his 
way HOW ROOD is that he was in my way and no where for me to go the traffic 
was thick and the curb was near my foot 
 then the boy looked super surprised wiping the glaze out of his eyes Oh, he had 
surmised it He said this to the Driver “I am not even listening to you I am talking 
to someone on my Rude Cell Phone
and he pointed to the window with his cup so carefully held up to keep from 
spilling and he gestured at the man to sit somewhere else just go away eye am 
so rude eye am the rudest man alive today the man was trying to dominate 
someone that will not be ruled over by another man and so he lost his battle plan 
his rude was wasted then eye almost let it go but had the last word out the door 
One thing was certain they never even noticed me 
never saw me as a person they just played out their ruminations
just giving me the benifit of their public conversation the girls talked non plussed 
non pulsed and non stopped they never cared for anyone but them they kept the 
confab going even into coffee time THAT stuff that you are wanting me to have 
just keep it with you and take it with you please just SHUT your mouth like that 
and then she left another string of profanity pointed back in my direction and the 
damage had been done now here's this poem. 


Details | Prose Poetry | |

The Bad, Bad Boy My Dear, sweet China Flower

The Bad, Bad Boy 

My Dear, sweet China Flower :

   The Oriental fragrance of you lingers on, it has permeated the very fibers of my mind and my home.
   I am, oh so very sorry for over stepping boundaries, going beyond my place, in your life. I am sorry for letting my passions, my desires become the flames that defiled your beautiful innocence.
   I really feel bad for the BAD, BAD thing I did to you and for leaving you unsatisfied. I am also, so very sorry for pollinating - planting my seeds deep within - your beautiful flower,
and for doing so without your desire, your consent as I slipped between your stems and into your dreams .
   I do hope that you can find it in your heart to forgive this old fool for - in the heat of moments of desire to taste, to savour the flavour of your liquid honey, honey that felt so good I could not resist - defiling the innocent beauty of your womanhood, in desecrating a beautiful Flower, of China. All to satisfy my own lecherous appetites, appetites that violated the purity and innocence in you, broke the trust, that I believe you placed in the hands of this foolish old stranger.
   I am truly sorry for my acts of indiscretion, and even more so for my not
bringing to fruition, the blossoming of your beautiful flower, feeling it, seeing it explode in a brilliance of rainbow colours, that would have lit up the hours of our late night, early morning.
   Please do not think to badly of me, my Dear .

LOVE BILL .

   As I look into the above, I come to realize that I painted a picture of what must appear, to you the reader, an aggressive, forceful, selfish, inconsiderate,monster who is lurking among the shadows of my rhyme ?, / poetry ?, but let me assure you that that is as far from the truth as is the closest universe . 
   The above poem ?, / rhyme ?, came on the heels of my lack of understanding, an inability to read the signs and the over active imagination of this author as I was looking into the beauty of the first times I made love to this Beautiful China Flower, in a bright light at night's darkest hour and again in the soft glow of dawn's first sight of passion's delight . 
   The truth be told, taking poetic license, an active imagination, lack of verbal communication - for there is this language and cultural difference as well as only three months of Canadian culture and the English language under her belt, at the time - told me one story while I neglected to take into account all the none verbal expression that came, and came from this Chinese Flower, as she expressed in the silences of her physical participation a truth and that truth has blossomed many, many times since under the green thumb of this old gardener, so what is the true reality ?, the rhyme ?, / poem ?, this statement ? 
   In the light of this, the poem ?, /rhyme ?, does not a reality make . A monster ?, a fool ?, a blind man ?, an artist ?, does any of this tell what this author could be under all my words ?


Details | Prose Poetry | |

You've got skeletons in your closet I've got hearts

No one does it better than I.
Be they outgoing or a touch shy.
And to sit and think about it now,
And I tend to really wonder how
I got in the business of stealing hearts.

Whispers of a life draw them in.
Sweet smiles and laughter keep them pinned.
And in an instant, I think we could be.
And then I remember we're dealing with me.
Trapping souls forever is a tricky art.

I've never set out to hurt a soul,
But when I leave, they're never whole.
And I sulk for two or three.
And then I move, 'cause I'm me.
In the end, I break them apart.

Falling in love is never my plan.
But then again, such a dashing man.
And I guess I have a charming way.
And I guess I make them want to stay.
Is there ever an end to what I start?

I've never asked for all these hearts.
I was searching for the missing parts.
And then I wake up one day and see.
And then realize it's not meant to be.
When composing love, I'm your Mozart.

I'll come into your life, and make you fall.
I'll take your heart, I'll take it all.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

9Ninety0

 9Ninety0 
9Ninety0 
 
 
CharlaXFabels 
 
 
On SUNDAY 
 
ADAYOFOURLORD 
 
 When judgement come what will you say can you tell the JESUS 
what you done in just one day eye left some fish upon the way then left my bed to 
gather more than eye can eat for eye am blessed my heart is full of love for 
people eye have never met and strangers yell at me from van and make me cuss 
and curse and hate yet the things eye found was blessed a cake a homemade 
cake remember LORD when we ate the cake eye found it in the city park on that 
SUNDAY when the man in the van rolled his window down he yelled screamed 
growled at me so cartoon of a character so rubber legged he would not stop near 
me for eye was mad at THEE for letting evil men get near me they rob me of my 
grace more needed now on SUNDAY as eye sit and feed my face eye will not go 
further with embellishments and lies intended just to sell a story to the men who 
drive the van and bother men with hate for eye found some extra clothing and 
added it to mind for there was no one there in the park today just laying on the 
ground eye passed the beggars sides with full larder laid as eye did not even lay 
it down eye hope they have an empty cup of alcoholic stop eye began this day 
without a fish but now my bags is hard to carry a brand new hooded shirt upon 
my belly my jacket getting heavy my cake and coffee is so nice please KISS mye 
lambea wherever she is at a smile upon her face for eye and love and grace on 
SUNDAY. This is CharlaXFabel number NINTEY. 



Details | Prose Poetry | |

A Blind Man's Tale

All  dimensions  are  hidden  from  me;
I  fail  to  envision  the  mystic  beauties  of  nature,
My  world  is  packed  with  dense  fog  all  around  me.

I  was  born  to  see  a  never-ending  darkness,
A  darkness  so  profound  that  it  conceals everything  from  me.

For  40  years  now  my  vision  has  betrayed  me  and ,
I  continue  to  walk  along  a  dark  tunnel  hoping  to  see  light  at 
the  end  of  it  someday.

I  have  not  seen  my  mother’s  face. I  know  not  how  the  lady
who  gave  me  my  existence  looks.

But  the  immense  shadow   that  covers  me  also  raises  my 
consciousness  to  the  highest  level.

I  know  that

“  Within  me  I  have  an  enlightened  soul  that  radiates  light
more  influencial  than  the  sun  and  it  traverses  the  whole  
of  universe  to  reach  the  heavens.

At  this  moment  I  feel  the  prescence  of  God.
 A  God  that  pervades  my  entire  existence. 
I  can  feel  that  He  uncondiotionally  loves  me.
It  is  now  that  I  see  the  Light  of  Truth.” 



Ronak Sanjay Bhavana Muchhala

G-601, Satellite Gardens CHS,
Film city road, Goregaon [east],
Mumbai 400063.  INDIA


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Judgement

Listen to the wind as it crashes into the towns and villages and downs mighty trees,
Stand still, let it blow until you nearly fall, face its anger and lean into the cold wind,
It brings snow so heavy, flakes will bite your face, freeze your wet golden pig tails
Stand in the blizzard then fall to the ground and stay there, this is your judgement day,

It's time to reflect darkest needs, and the moral ruin in that space, of your passing years.
Listen to the wind bending boughs, branches and the flow of a turbid stream of pollution,
A pollution that floats the wretched souls and bodies of all mankind to death and to hell,
You hear a sound of branches creaking under the strain of despicable wrongs in your life,

It's a mighty power that takes away the beat of the immoral pulse of your sorry humanity,
So now you are ready to listen, so listen hard, but then you know your own sorry story.
Listen to the wind and hail sweeping over dead leaves, throwing them into a black sky,
Do leaves shiver or do they shout out loud in rage as they are scooped up in a frenzy,

Will you pray to your god, ask him for forgiveness as this is your last day on earth,
Or will you beg in the tattered slops of your own righteousness just to save yourself,
Listen to the tolling of the old passing bell that swings in your black dome of vice.
You will feel the devils havoc amongst immortal souls, a hell fire dwelling in your heart,

A story of your progress a disease of lies which sucked away all goodness from your days,
Lies have plucked the red roses from childhood and set a brand of hate on your wet brow,
The story of lies which have stalked and spread up and down the earth for many centuries,
Lies that sweeps millions upon millions to destruction, for this disease there is no cure. 

How many sighs have been noted down in your heaven and how many tears were for yourself,
Those too often troubled fountains flowing like April showers, your wolf's tears fallen,
How many hearts have you broken in loveless famine, all for a want of an act of kindness,
See how deep the dyes painted in your days, a selfish dense black cloud as the background,

So look behind you, see the old man carrying his scythe, he is waiting and he has patience. 
Listen hard, listen well, do you hear trumpets blare over the crashing white landscapes,
Will you pray brimstone or treacle and tell the wind your sins the unacceptable truth's,
Did you sit and drink your wine murmuring everlasting hate in a rich full flavoured voice.

You are just a blank space in a world of nothingness a mere sour taste in the universe,
Your vicious wrongs telling the same old stories heard by thousands, thousands of times,
You close your mind and pretend to forget what cannot be forgotten, tell me are you bad, 
Because I would like to know if you think you are a good example, I would like to know.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Without The Box

So, there you are
Returned from fighting another mans war
Heard you’re quite the hero
Good for you my friend
Twenty years young
Couldn’t wait
To kick some terrorist ass
And so you did
So very well indeed I hear
Now you’re back
Nothing more to kick
What are you to do with yourself
Lying there as you are
Look at all of us here
To welcome you back
Can you not hear the joy
Can you not see the happiness
Or is it all hidden behind the tears
So here you are returned
In a flawless uniform
Lying there all smug and confident
With a peaceful look
Here you are returned
Fresh off the plane
In a nice tight package
Here you are returned
To never leave again
Good to have you back my friend
Only wish it could have been
Without the box


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Blood, again

blood again 
-
The two hovering faces are white and brown.
They seem to look nice, saying, “we’re in your side.”
She aches; both her sides ache; bruises, clotted blood; 
She sees them, two men with the force; denies to complain.
The trust has been lying killed, somewhere in her den.

Discharge means returning home, to the fear’s room, 
where he may return for tearing her more.
But she won’t dial for force, at least not before 
she has put six inanimate hates into him;
not before she has seen blood once again, not hers. 
=© 2009 - All Rights Reserved Kushal Poddar


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Fouad Abbas

He was steering us somewhere
This Fouad Abbas
Having given up the world as unreachable
Now took hold the yellow disc
and wrested what was left
into some sort of plan.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

SixtyfourF

SixtyfourF
CharlaXFabels
The Underdog
The most disgusting thing of all the hair unkempt can be over looked the smell 
can be ignored but the alcoholic impairment the fumble with the fingers the look 
of concentration the attempts to open a plastix trash bag went beyond the norm 
for me not because eye am better than or some wonderful person than or down 
the nose than but just because it was irksome to watch a man work for fifteen 
minutes on a sack that a sober man could open in one second he was trying to 
untie the knots when any thinking person could just tear the side of bag and then 
be done with bag and have the goods and that the other thing that irks me is just 
what was in the bag it looked like sagging food not nothing worth the time of a 
hungry homeless bag but then the eye has standards for eye am expert 
scrounger. SO do not make the mistake that eye was laughing at the poor man 
try no aue contrails eye was feeling awful sorry for the him making inroads last 
and having a waking dream imagining just what it was in bag when he finally 
gets it untied only to find its garbage after all its trash the food is sagging in the 
bottom of the bag and hungry thow eye am there is still standards to be set. The 
food that eye get is usually more visible than that and eye have some clear idea 
of just what it is that eye am getting into there. see part two 64


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Fields Forever

Until the end, I fight 
I fight until the light is no more 
and the perilous night does begin 
& when my day is gone & future masked 
I climb my mountain with head hanging low 
Low for now, I killed and desecrated all held sacred 
Slain the last foe & as the day breaks again 
I gaze at fields of red fury 
Fury misunderstood all dead to understand 
Mountains ahead and behind, in this valley of 
Presence. Engulfed by injustice and punished 
In personal strife, I cry, 
not out but in I cry to hear 
inside, inside where I've tried to hide 
and defend on this field of red 
with no more to hide & more to 
hide from. I perch on this mountain I've made 
& expose myself to all, with none to tell 
I'm free, lost to live, lost to die 
Never to love, never to fly. Only wallow for 
It turns to night and shadows comfort me my friends 
Till the end 


Details | Prose Poetry | |

86

 86 
86 
 
 
CharlaXFabels 
 
American Christian 
 
True Story 
 
 A Homeless person is nothing but a distracting sideshow on the sidewalk to 
most people they can not help them ease the misery of the alcoholism or even 
feed them and yet iff ewe ask them are all of you a Christian they would ring 
choruses of resounding yeses in choral verses posted on the internet in three 
part harmonic glee club performances. Eye have seen some bad men posing as 
people. A man walking to the mission once his duffle causing him to shuffle eye 
asked him to let me help him and this is what he told me. He was very angry and 
he was posing as a human. This will now become his story. 
Eye am an American Christian, eye do not need the help you have offered just 
leave my fate to me eye suffer an old war injury the knee cap it is plastic not 
meant to be abused but eye can carry twice as much as you. Even with my bad 
leg eye can get where eye am going if this bothers you then hide and watch my 
passing. He had to be hiding something and this is later to be revealed. The offer 
of help was the Christian in me just reaching out to someone less fortunate and 
needy. The thorns in the people you meet can make the fellowship falter and 
miss and make a man wonder at this life time to come. Now when we had gotten 
where we were going and he had made me belittled all the way the real long day 
was over and he still would not shut up so hear what he now had to say. He said 
you be quiet in that bed or eye will shoot you full of lead and that is when he 
pulled a pistol from his bag and that must be why he has so much trouble with 
the weight it must have weighed a ton there is not another feeling in this world 
my dear and gentle reader as laying in a MISSION bed just waiting for the sound 
of that dropped hammer on the gun he must be the American Christian. 


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Part Two 64

Eye do not mix my peas and corn in my potatoes as is the wanton some mix fruit 
with meat and it always spoils the taste the fruit is better drank the potatoes left 
alone to get some salt to get some flavor even pepper added later the man was 
clearly well hung over his hazy perceptions ruling waivering muscle bound 
thoughts in clearly peripheral patterns perhaps the hair was bound too tightly in 
the manner of the druggies of the sixties nappy aint the word the word is clearly 
undefined unless it’s twined even eye have never seen twined hair and eye have 
seen a lot of heads a lot of hair there some of it in popcorned rows some of it as 
missing transplanted on the top from toes. The unwashed clothes is next he 
never learned his layers and the eye is never perfect but it goes to show you just 
who it is that cares. Eye still care some about my public image the impression 
that eye make on public eye the looks eye get in the lieberry as eye type this work 
of fabelistical
importance is so nice they see just what it is they wish to see consider the 
source when a man sleeps drunk behind a dumpster on the ground he winds up 
looking much like a hound a dog perhaps the underdog. 


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Sixty8Ball

 Sixty8Ball     
 
 
Author Message 
Admin
Admin



Age : 53
Joined : 25 Jun 2007
Posts : 53
Localisation : Tucson

 Subject: Sixty8Ball   Today at 16:17      

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
 
Sixty8Ball


CharlaXFabels


GangLanders
Street toughs and criminals fighters and haters drug users and drinkers and 
smokers and sniffers. The eye is 53 chronological in years but excessive use of 
beers has not been nice to my nerves and when they move near me like sharks 
in the water of a limning pool eye flinch a little move away but not fear eye never 
fear no one but namme. Eye would not want to hurt the boyz but neither will eye 
let them tower over me in size they would not make a decent meal for wolf or dog 
or coyote packing hounds of misery they play like men when wanting to deliver 
but they mistake the old homeless for a flake and a quiver when the liver is so 
pink and my spine is finally strait and eye stand in disbelief as they step up to the 
plate eye pulled my glove on then smiled they seemed to hesitate then they tried 
again to make me shake
"we told yew we will beat yew up" the eye was laughing now the jigg was up the 
die was cast no time to worry or even much to laugh eye pulled the other glove on 
my right hand and smiled not moving there just waiting time to dance had come 
they tried again even so they wanted me to think that they had heart they walked 
up to the near me as they could try then one he balked the other one stopped 
also when he realized he was alone and facing some sort of crazxy man intent 
on going home they left with tails all tucked away and nothing left on glove no 
meat no bone. Eye could not let it go eye turned and shouted after them "you 
punked". Remember that this man is already 53 years old lame in one foot and 
blind in one eye shorter than tall taller than them able to tie one hand behind my 
eye and walk away from the gangster fight. Eye win. 
 


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Mom

im sorry that i hurt you
im sorry that you cried 
im sorry that i'll never be 
what you want to have 
im sorry tha you cant forgive me
im sorry that your mad
im sorry i ruined your perfect life 
im sorry that your not
im sorry i could not be an angel
im sorry that i didnt try
im sorry that im so jacked up
im sorry i got on drugs
im sorry i started to drink
but im not sorry that i did it 
cause that was a blast!


Details | Prose Poetry | |

3Fabel3 Part Two

The day was almost over the length of shadows added to the horror the suicided 
failure as eye kicked the step away from the very air eye breathed only to discover 
that the rope that eye had lengthened only added more to links already there until 
my feet quite reached the floor and the suicide was haltered when the noose 
quite simply hit the floor. Yes eye commited suicide yet now eye am still quite 
alive and living in my love. Eye have uncovered the secret of the screen the 
gamma rays are there in the background when they are lessoned the blue turns 
dark there is a control eye found marked cool. The computer hurts my lidded 
brow much less now. Blackstone's characterization of property rights as "sole 
and despotic dominion which one man claims and exercises over the external 
things of the world, in total exclusion of the right of any other individual in the 
universe," the exercise of this fabel is now exercised for ewe she owns the 
poems too. 
          Hemp Rope 

Natural hemp rope, hand-twisted in Romania into 50 foot bundles of various 
diameters. Made from dry-spun hemp yarns, this rope is traditional hemp rope 
unchanged and in continuous use for centuries. Naturally mold and mildew 
resistant, this rope is suited for outdoor as well as indoor use. A classic product 
with a truly rustic and natural look. You'll get years of use for out of this hemp 
rope regardless of the application. 
Look at this last line gentile reader a glitch most certainly or just a mistranslation 
it must be why the eye is still alive and the rope just did not hang me. The Law of 
Blackstone is now the one of Livingstone eye presume. 


Details | Prose Poetry | |

3FABEL3

 3FABEL3 
3FABEL3 
 
Lynching 
 
 
Murder is an art form abused by those critters in a hurry to perform a judgement 
call and then scurry off on horses to hide from the real law. 
There is some western hearoes who still hate the Negroes and do not have 
them on the list of living beings in their repertoire of Johnny law. The rope is tied 
in the noose with thirteen winds some say a wind for every step up the gallows 
planks thirteen of them to give the thief a long time to prepare for Hell. We will 
stretch his neck we will hang him high we will send him on his journey to the sky 
they hammer on the gallows while the thief he sits in cell and cries uncertain of 
his future after that and eye suppose there should have been a preacher in all 
those western movies to come in and comfort them the brothers waiting there. In 
desert news in otherworldly tensions there is many promises given of 
conciliations taken from the left hand and given to the behind the back and then 
back to the right this is called the we will do this for you and then no of course we 
do not want to do this not at all syndrome. Also eye have noticed on this internet 
the use of ads is popping up increasing tension in the viewer designing limits on 
the use of money is the income of a prisoner soon increasing is the wealth of 
money belts investing blooming idiots are stealing more to pay for kitchen 
hardware and the laptops on the floor of the living room with HDTTV the 
SuperBowling friends were over just now Johnny Law was at the door way saying 
hey and did you let them in no you just slammed the slamming door way in the 
faces of the lawmen. 
  charlax valentine, here is a copy of the HiCard you 
sent. Since it was mailed to you, it will appear 
that you sent it to yourself. The real card was 
delivered exactly as you saw it previewed. 
The condemned man walked up the steps to the thirteenth story. 
Rope is sometimes frayed in the movies the rope breaks the thief falls to the 
grounded mound and jumps the saddle rides away into the night on horseback 
getting bullets in his gun by magic on the run then fighting back. 
The Hangging Judge in Fort Smith scared me so badly eye can never hold a gun 
in my left handed again. Besides the neck does not look good when rope is tied 
so tightly in the nooses neck. The Arizona Kid hung up his spurs the day the tree 
split into crosses from the lightning bolt surmising that his LORD was not well 
pleased with him that day the Sherriff made his play. 


Details | Prose Poetry | |

3Fabel7 Part two

When eye wanted to make a bicycle for the Charlaxandroidsevenone the locals 
all agreed do not try to keep it here do not lock it to our fence or we will cut the 
lock and thieve the bike away from you you there you there look away lost falcon 
the Dove is the only way to fly. Eye do not live in fear of others there but when the 
eye is not departing on the buss stopped there eye never visit the stopps 
anymore or less no need to invest in the gangers there they rest a moment's 
notice just to get the stolen goodies managed in the Tucson twilight zone. 
Now eye must be careful not to get angry and frown at my computer screen it may 
go dark again. The energy that eye direct is mostly used to hunt and peck these 
words that ewe detect when reading yours the pictures added later for effect the 
yoyo spinning down the line the top tipped up and spinning on its side the handle 
pressed on the Spinning one to make it top the gangers rule the city blocks. 


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Fabel Twelth

 Fabel Twelth     
 
 
Author Message 
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Admin



Age : 53
Joined : 13 Jun 2007
Posts : 720

 Subject: Fabel Twelth   Today at 14:08      

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Fabel Twelth

Moral Inventory

Charlax Fables

The four thousand year old day

The end of a day is somehow better than the beginning eye carefully left my roll 
and hid my blanket in the place eye like to find it hoping no one goes there it is 
still quite cold eye lost some composure when the Jogger ignored me and 
proceeded onto the bridge quite rudely so early to an old man in a hurry eye was 
almost jogging myself HE came at me like he is used to better days he expected 
me to jump frog out of his way eye yelled at him “ NO” eye said “you SAW me on 
this bridge” and then eye rudded him eye BUMPED him with my bag just one of 
three eye always carry just in case of rain. He kept his tongue and made me think 
that he is mute perhaps he cannot speak perhaps he is one of them? He 
seemed so strang to me like someone not even there perhaps an ANGEL sent 
to test me to see iff eye was there? But yet the BIBLE clearly states that JESUS 
tests or tempts no man so where was HE from? This Jogger made me mad. 
Everything else was bent from that one chance encounter eye have been a bad 
boy in the middle of my night but it’s all for love ewe the bus was late and 
sometimes the driver lets people off same side they call it but today he decided 
everyone must go to the bus stop and wait in the snowless cold and it made me 
an hour late and no one gives me love the lieberrian is so depressed she cries it 
seems she just does not have enough? Can someone give me love no only 
ewe. No Matter how rude no matter how smart they ain’t tough there is no 
substitute for tough not big or mean but eye am tough. Buyer beware eye am a 
survivor. 
 
           
 
 Fabel Twelth 
 


Details | Prose Poetry | |

3Fabel7

 3Fabel7 
3Fabel7 
 
 
Busstopgangers 
 
 
CharlaXFabels 
 
Sometimes a Cowboy is sitting at the bus stopped waiting there for no one 
sometimes it is the drunk who sleeps there sometimes it is the ganger who 
stops to go threw his stolen stuff on his way home there was debris all around 
him he was uncombed hair and Mexican or worse Chinese or Asian there with 
hair all unbarbered and the bicycle was being worked on standing on its seat it 
looked like to me he was trying to make it GO somehow it was not doing just 
what he wanted it to do There was also missing pieces of the clothing from a 
backpack stolen no doubt from the place where he also took the bicycle from the 
mind brings up worry and fear in place of wonder the man looked all the world 
like thunder if it had a place to stay his face devoid of a human expression eye 
once had a biker walk up to me at the bus stop and he said he would like to 
pound me and eye asked him why and he said he was on drugs and eye had to 
actually 
leave the bus stop and catch a later tater tot buss. He was so rude and wiped out 
and stupid to threaten a citizen like that who seldom threatens anyone or wants 
to even fight a poet a statesman a love a brite lite. Function in a society of a 
poetical discourser is to remove the hatred placed upon the poor and the 
worthless lifer. 
Space Aged Technology eye just saw another worthless AD on yahoo it said they 
the gangers was not drunk enough to play so they put Captain Morgan in a can 
please let him out His men are looking for the Captain of they shippe again the 
propensities for abuse will make the men go out and kill again to get the money 
for they juice.