Long poem by
Maxine Jones | Details |
So I have some things, that I just have to say,
but please do not take me in the wrong way,
I have this tiny little problem, inside me you see,
and its called trying to live with ADHD.
These thing's that you say, they way you behave,
drive me insane, and inside me I crave,
to tell you your wrong, and look like a mug,
I cant stand the thought, of you being a thug.
If I see you pushing and constantly thrashing,
my friends whom are weak, intending to bash em,
I will have to stand up, and defend with my heart,
Say it to me if you really wanna start!
Ill tell you the truth, don't you threat about that,
I'll never be scared of you, swinging that bat.
I've been through worse times, than you can inflict,
you can laugh and say that I am just a (b)witch.
I've taken many a beating, from one's harder than you,
you're a joke, you're clown, do the best you can do,
you will not like me, cause ill tell you the truth,
it ain't all about being a spoof.
You're a book that's been read, from cover to cover,
Predictable, laughable and not the best lover,
you're as see through as cling film, but before its too late,
get a grip you sad person, before they will hate.
you can change the future, if only you'd try,
stop accusing and blaming, and questioning why?
look around you and see, you have a great life,
but if you don't see before you, lose a possible wife.
So I'll tell it like it is, I wont mince my words
right there, right now, you got an incredible bird,
she loves you and would never hurt you, never make you cry,
but you spit and you hiss, and you don't even try.
You're straight out the book, the tactics you use
we know the next step, we know the short fuse,
The questions, the timing, the jealousy of friends,
its all a plan, for her social life to end.
There's really no need to hate and to follow,
trust isn't really a bitter pill to swallow.
Life and love is really OK,
don't be an idiot and throw it all away.
when you have a good woman be happy and proud,
get on that roof top and shout it out loud.
don't toss it aside, cause your angry inside,
give love a chance, her on your arm bursting with pride.
I'll be honest, and truthful, and hope you will find,
the problem within, ill try to be kind,
but ADHD just makes me be true
I really mean no harm, just giving you a clue.
You can hate me, detest me, I really don't care,
I know what your about, I'll stand and stare,
see if you have the balls, to really be true,
when you stand say 'hello, and how are you?'
Been there, and done it, its really no big deal,
2 faced coward is what i do feel.
thing is it really, you don't need to be like that,
but too proud to say, 'yeah OK I been a prat'
No need at all for the mess that is made,
drag yourself out of that neanderthal cave.
there's more to life than fighting and hating,
you only get on shot, so love and stop wasting.
Let people in, let out your fears,
or cling on to em tight, for another 30 years,
hold on to trouble, grip tight onto hate,
lets these years pass you by, and then its too late.
look at yourself, are you really ok??
want another day marked off, with only hate to say?
we want to make you smile, and assure you its fine,
hold glasses of wine up and clink with ' lets dine'
So I suppose the point, I am trying to say,
with my ADHD, I'll just say it this way,
My words come out 'hectic' and not make much sense,
but I'm trying to help you, I make no pretense.
If you think this is about you, or someone you know,
I hope that this poem will help someone to grow,
Just ask and I'll tell you, I wont hide in the forest,
I don't have two faces, you know ill be honest!
So I bid you goodnight, and tell you I'm grateful,
for Tony, my love, I can trust he'll be faithful,
He treats me with love and respect, don't harass me,
two way trust, with my man, means the world, I'll never judge he.
Shame on you wasters, throwing real love away,
it will spring up on you, you'll realize one day,
you had it right there, in the palm of your hand,
but crushed it and blew it away like the sand.
Long poem by
Donn Ronquillo | Details |
pressure to the roneom[
pressures of the norm,
going beyond the storm.
branded by the stigma;
persecuted by other's feedback,
judged by the trauma,
hindered by all the drama.
toying with the hurt,
random ego sanity complex.
confusion with reality;
backsliding with habits.
boredome with under rated exploits,
shackled by the struggle and pain.
unjustified secrets and cruel ploys,
with tainted stains.
offering no comfort,
the teardrops that wasn't meant to be compare.
Long poem by
Timothy Hicks | Details |
"You in the military?"
I was confused at first and didn't know why the man would ask me such a question. But then I remembered my recent haircut.
"No... is it because I shaved my head, that you think that?"
He laughed, in confirmation. At the time he seemed good-natured and so I decided to try and spark some kind of conversation. After all why not? I had two hours worth of sitting ahead of me, and I was bored of the silence.
"Do you think it's weird that I shave my head?". Admittedly I'm not the most graceful conversationalist. "Not at all... so why are you headed to Boise?". I told him I live there and that I just got back from Europe. For some reason where I came from didn't interest him much.
"You study at BSU?". I told him no, and he started to sway back and forth. He had a weird habit of not being able to stand completely straight. "What do you do?". And I said I was just a pizza-maker, and thought the description was ample. He paused for five minutes and then said in a low condescending voice "I'm gonna pretend you didn't just say that. Now what do you DO?".
I was exhausted from almost twenty hours of drawn out sitting, and plus I was never good at clever responses, so I said dumbly "I don't know". He said "What about CWI? You know, coll-ege-of-west-ern-i-da-ho", pronouncing each syllable precisely. Did he think I had mental problems or something? "I don't know, I haven't looked very deep into it".
He seemed irritated with me and continued that annoying sway of his. My shallow side got the best of me and I couldn't help but form conclusions of what he thought of me. Like for instance; this kid probably spends most of his time playing video-games... that is when he's not smoking pot. Hell, maybe he even does both at the same time. Those were the thoughts that came to me and I was helpless to stop them.
He showed me his military ID, saying proudly "See here, I'm in the military." Placing his finger right on his portrait. I said "Cool!". But I really just wanted some peace and quiet. He put his card back in his wallet. But he had this look about him, that showed deep disappointment. He looked as though he was waiting for some profound response from my end. Did he expect me to bow down, kiss his feet, and shout out "Oh you brave man! I'm simply not worthy of your presence!" But no, all I said was cool and continued to look at the giant digital clock on the wall. Will this plane ever get here!?
"C'mon man, you gotta know what you wanna do in life!". His badgering just wouldn't stop, but I was in no mood to breathe any comebacks beside mechanical responses. I could have told him I had a passion for composing songs on my piano, and that I was self-taught; or that I had enough material on my Kindle Fire to start at least a couple books. I could've even quoted Plato, stating "College polishes pebbles, but dims diamonds". But I don't think that would have jived well with him and would have simply caused me more stress. Why should I bother defending myself to someone who knew absolutely NOTHING about me? I just wanted to get home after a month of being away. Not get lectured by this complete stranger who refused to get the hint.
"My son is seventeen years old and has no idea what he wants to do". Was he talking to himself or me? "I'd like to show him brochures of Michigan or Hawaii," he snickered, "Heck, maybe that would get him out of the house!". I mentally rolled my eyes at him - I was simply too beat to do it physically. I've never been so grateful to have a dad like mine. That poor, poor kid! When the plane, at last arrived, I rejoiced that I didn't have sit next to that meddlesome man. I say this in complete seriousness, that he was quite possibly the most irritating person I've ever met.
Long poem by
Zahara Cassim | Details |
I’m lying on the floor,
Looking up at the sky,
I can feel the blood running out of me ,
Like riotous refugees to a place of safety,
Out of this body that torments me.
Out, out, leave me.
Take the dark flames of fear, fright and pain with you,
When you run like scared children in the dark of night.
Let the death cover me,
Take me into the darkness.
Fervent sirens screaming like maddened banshees,
Shrieking through an eerie sky,
The shrill voice of death-bringing violence.
Louder and louder
And louder still.
And the virulous screams of a turbulent end.
It’s 5 a.m.
It’s another day and I’m still here.
The prying eyes of an inquisitive sun
Creeps through my black curtains
Like a sickening witch
Waiting to pounce
On an unsuspecting newt.
To pull out its eyes and throw it into the brew.
A surreptitious smile
And malevolent stare,
She scorches my night-loving eyes,
With her jealous glare.
Staring at me the entire day,
Just watching me,]
With her fiery arms reaching out to me.
Every day is a struggle.
For someone in the world,
Every day is a struggle.
I’m walking down the road.
Everything is still crisp from the night-cold air.
The ground is still wet from the morning dew.
I take a deep breath in.
I can feel the brittle air flow through me,
Sharply down my nostrils,
And into my brain,
Another deep breath,
And slowly the icy crystals suffocate me.
Every breath wants to kill me.
To live is to die.
Slowly, with each day we live,
With each day we die.
Little by little,
Cell by cell,
We are dying,
Just wasting away.
I wonder what it’s like to die...
Is it like going to bed ,
And just never waking up?
Is it like a dream?
There’s a long wait.
We waste so much time waiting.
We wait for people,
We wait for taxis,
We wait for opportunities,
We wait in queues,
We wait for results,
We even wait for time.
Waiting is such a waste.
There is so much I could be doing instead of standing here waiting for a damn taxi!
I could be doing something productive!
Why are you wasting MY time?
IT’S SO FRUSTRATING!
I’m getting irritable.
Would you just get here!!
I have things to do!
I can feel the blood in my veins start to scurry.
Even they’re starting to get restless,
All trying to find a way out.
Out of this long wait.
Where to go?
Around and around,
Nowhere but where they’ve been before.
At least they’re not wasting time,
They’re clamouring on top of each other,
Trying to burst out,
Out of this finite state,
Out of this incessant wait!
A flood of blood rushing to freedom,
Somewhere out of this frustration.
I think I’ve burst a vessel.
I’m lying on the floor,
Looking up at the sky,
Inside my head.
All I can see is red.
There’s a drip,
There’s a leak.
I’m feeling nothing.
I can’t move,
I can’t do anything,
The inability to move,
To do something,
To get something done,
To do something about the inability to move,
Is killing me.
I can feel the great beast inside me awaken.
Something unleashes a terrible fever that burns me.
It’s everything that the world gives me.
Everything in the world wants to kill me.
A raging fire boiling to the brim,
With a violent hatred,
Red-hot and fiery.
Dying with a vengeance,
The world had killed me.
I am killed me,
What I am
Has killed me.
Long poem by
Robert Candler | Details |
Bob had a special talent
That only worked in his men’s store.
He had ‘clothing ESP’.
He knew what his customers wanted…and more.
When customer would come into his store
Bob would invariably say,
“Hello. I'm Bob. Don’t say a word.
I already know what you need today.”
And he was always right,
Never missed a color, fabric, style or size.
He even knew the necessary alterations.
Customers couldn’t believe their ears and eyes.
Meanwhile, in another part of town,
Joe had a pounding, relentless migraine
For every minute for more than five years,
It had driven him near insane.
He’d lost his job to the pain.
Then, he lost his wife.
He had lost a lot of weight and rarely slept.
Yes, his was a miserable life.
And, of course, sex was out of the question…
Even a little self-abuse.
There was nothing left for Joe but pain.
He felt his life was of no use.
So, Joe went to his doctor.
“Doc, please help me end this pain.
Give me something to make me sleep
And never wake up again.”
“You know I can’t assist your suicide.”,
Then he looked sad, perhaps ashamed.
“I never dreamed it would last five years,
But I know how to end the pain.”
“You can make it go away?!
Tell me, Doc! What’s the word?”
“I’ll have to remove your testicles.”
Was the last thing that Joe heard.
But…when he came to, it struck him.
Sex was out of the question anyway;
But he might enjoy his meals again,
And he could sleep for days.
“Please check me in, Doc.
This opportunity I cannot shirk.”
So, the doctor removed his testicles.
He did his very best work.
A few days later, Joe waddled along,
Headache free and feeling pretty nice;
But every attractive woman he saw
Reminded him of his sacrifice.
He decided it was appropriate
To do something nice for himself for a change.
So, he went into a travel agency;
And a six month cruise he arranged.
As he left the travel agency,
He was excited, feeling ready to go;
But for such a glorious adventure,
He would need new clothes.
As he walked along, he saw Bob’s Men's Store.
He walked in, only to hear Bob say,
“Hello. I’m Bob. Don’t say a word.
I already know what you need today.”
“How could you know?” asked Joe.
“It’s a gift. I don’t know how, but I do.
You’ve suffered five years with an ailment,
Found relief, so now you’re taking a cruise.”
Joe could not believe his ears.
How could this stranger possibly know?
"You're right! That's amazing!
And I'm going to need new clothes."
Bob then laid out a fabulous wardrobe
All the right colors, fabrics, styles…and each size.
Joe was incredibly impressed.
He could hardly believe his ears and eyes.
“How do you like the wardrobe?”
“It’s wonderful!” Bob could see that Joe was pleased.
“Now,” said Bob, “What about undergarments;
You know…shorts and tees?
Let’s see…medium crew neck tees, all cotton.
I believe that you prefer white….
And jockey shorts, all cotton…. 34s.
Yes, I'm sure that’s right.”
Joe beamed, “You’re an amazing talent
And I just this second realized,
You've laid out this entire wardrobe
And only missed one size.”
Bob, surprised by his mistake, asked, “Really?
What did I miss? I did my best for you.”
“Well…you’re right.” said Joe, “I do wear Jockeys,
But…well…I wear 32s.
“Oh, no!” said Bob with an ugly grimace.
“That would be a serious mistake.
Thirty-twos will cramp your balls,
You’ll get migraine headaches.”
Long poem by
Jerry T Curtis | Details | . You can read it on PoetrySoup.com' st_url='http://www.poetrysoup.com/poem/santas_seeing_red_619139' st_title='Santa's Seeing Red'>
Santa’s Seeing Red
Late one evening up at the pole
Santa was watching TV
He shook his head as he started for bed
After seeing how people could be
All night long he tossed and turned
I guess he just couldn’t let go
He saw a sleigh and watched burn
As it sat there in the snow
When he woke He realize
That Christmas was actually dead
He couldn’t sleep with those sugarplums
Dancing inside his head, Now it’s said
Santa’s seeing red
That next morning, Santa was warming
His hands by a fireside
Someone had set the toyshop a flame
But there was no one, to blame in site
The elves then noticed the deer were gone
Someone must have let them go
But they never seemed to take noticed
There were no tracks left in the snow
That same day they had a feast
But not a single word was said
About were all the meat came from
That was stuffed inside the bread, with Christmas dead
Santa’s seeing red
After dinner Santa stood up
And laid off all of his crew
He said the world was so screwed up
There was nothing He could do
He said that people hearts were colder
Much colder than the Arctic’s air
They're filled with greed, and blind to the needs
Of poor people everywhere,
So Father Christmas will be no more
For the little girls and little boys
They can say goodbye to all of those treats
And all those fricken' toys, Because instead
Santa’s seeing red
So when the twenty-fifth rolls by
You can treat it like another day
Santa’s found a new hometown
And a different game to play
He now sits back upon a beach
With women and booze he likes
Forgetting about frozen toes
And all of those silent nights
So don’t you pout and you better watch out
For that lump of coal instead
You did your part now add to your cart
All the things that I’ve just said, and where it’s lead
To Santa’s seeing red
Some say that giving is more blessed
And better than to receive
Santa will put you to the test
And see what you believe
So pass a man who’s homeless
Without reaching for a little doe
For what you do might follow you
No matter where you go
Now you’re sitting on Christmas eve
Just thinking about what I’ve said
You’ll all miss your shiny gifts
But not the people without bread, so stay bed
Cause Santa’s seeing red
So don’t look at the poor folks
Just look the other way
And Christ won’t be the only one
That’s missing on Christmas day,
Just drink until you’re merry
And feast until you’re full
He knows that you’ve been naughty
Cause he’s not gullible
So when you see him on the street
It’s a sight that you should dread
Cause he knows all your sins
And they're stored inside his head or so it’s said
Santa’s seeing red
Now it’s time to anti up
And dig into your stash
If you want him to stay quiet
Better cough up a little cash
And I think that you’ll remember
Christmas time every year
It’s time to give to Santa
Or live in constant fear
So you had better be real nice
And kick in a little bread
And you’ll better not think it twice
Or your reputation will be dead, like I said
Santa’s seeing red
Long poem by
kj force | Details |
The years passed, things never did get better..
Her Garden Club was the only thing that held her together
The mental abuse had taken it’s toll...
As far as he was concerned he owned her soul..
She now felt she had no recourse..
And decided she had to find a source..
To end this life as she knew it..
And move on without the commitment...
It was a Friday one cold winter day..
He told her he was going to Vegas to play..
But we have no money, you said yesterday..
No, YOU ! have no money he said and...
I wish you were dead...
He had bragged for years, this day would come
When he would choose another one..
But before I leave...he had a request..
Make me my favorite dinner...for me and a guest
She is younger than you and oh what a catch..
So she went to the freezer to find and fetch..
A suitable roast for he and his guest...
She found just the right thing for his favorite meal..
A large leg of lamb, or was it Veal ?
It was heavy, about twenty pounds she thought...
What was I thinking when this was bought ?
Back in the kitchen, he was still raving...
About how useless this marriage was of saving...
I really don’t care what happens to you...
But I’ll see you get nothing, not even a shoe...
With that she swung the 20 pound roast...
It smashed in his skull, he was dead right away...
Oh my, she said, what a way to start the day...
She grabbed the roast and put it in a pan...
And began to figure out a plan... of what to do with this man...
She thought for a moment and remembered the strife..
That went with her ordering that “ Ginzu “ knife...
It was a TV offer she couldn’t pass up, never needed sharpening....
and cut thru bone..order one now and get one free..
It was the first and last time she used the credit card and that was in 1963.
The knife worked well, she thought , now that was a bargain
Placed the parts in a bag and headed for the garden...
Body parts were buried in the dirt..
And she smiled upon the burning of her shirt..
She took the roast to her Garden Club meeting..
It was a special event and guess who was speaking ?
The Chief of Police and his subject was on spousal beating..
And by the way he said he would like the recipe for his wife..
The weeks went by, she was happy everyday...
And then it happened, is was the first of May..
The big event she had waited for all year..
Her entry of the “ *Amorphophallus Titanum “...
Oh how proud she was...when awarded top prize..
A very rare plant, said the Judge...and has a very weird odor..
And it’s not very pleasant...as a matter of fact
It smells like rotting meat , said another, sorta sour.
Which is why said the Judge..it’s commonly called the ...* Corpse Flower..
* Native to the rainforest, flowers are rare and if it blooms,
Is one of approximately 140 recorded in history...
Most recently on display in New York City in 2012...
Long poem by
Ivor Davies | Details |
When young, in playing out one day
a swinging stick got in my way.
It crushed my eye into my head,
another inch and I’d be dead.
Back in 1952,
There wasn’t much that they could do.
So when eye surgery was done,
they sent me home with only one!
A life of fun just flew right by,
for fifty years, with just one eye.
Some problems this has given me,
but none through which I could not 'see'.
Became a marksman with a gun,
In competitions had real fun.
To shoot ‘left handed’ I had learned,
for problems must be overturned.
Now every job I’d ever had,
required good eyesight, I was glad
that even though I hadn’t two,
the one I had was clear and true.
Then came the day that things weren’t right,
I noticed problems with my sight,
instead of seeing, clear and true,
I still saw clear, but now saw two!
Within a week it turned to three,
but doctors said they couldn’t see,
the problem that impaired my sight,
and was I sure I’d got it right?
It took a month of pressing on,
before they knew what must be done.
Their diagnosis now exact,
a true refractive cataract.
Not a cloudy type of course,
these stop the vision at the source.
But one that’s difficult to find,
that bends the light and tricks the mind.
By now my eye was seeing four,
I wondered if I’d take much more.
Although I’ve learned to live with stress,
I’d clearly like to see much less!
Then finally, the phone call came,
a cancellation brought my name,
to top of list, “Would I come in?”
my operation could begin.
Local anaesthesia and me,
never, ever could agree,
it rarely ever did the trick,
but none believed, until first prick!
Although my surgeon said he’d try,
he had to re-inject my eye.
The operation then went quick,
just twenty minutes did the trick.
The next few hours were very strange,
my neural pathways rearranged.
From sightlessness to very blurred,
illusions then that were absurd.
Pure black becoming ghostly white,
then seeing bright unearthly light.
Next colours came, but not quite right,
but blazing out with blinding light.
Like neon tubes in dead of night,
florescent, shining, glowing bright.
Just like a trip on ‘LSD’,
mind boggling with intensity.
The next day brought me far more sense,
though light still bright and contrast dense.
I knew for sure I’d finally won,
for now my eye saw only one!
It’s ten days now and my sight’s fine,
my eye still hurts, but that takes time.
My ‘pictures’ now are crystal clear,
my future’s bright and free from fear.
So if you find your sight gets worse,
don’t live with this and simply curse.
But get it checked before it’s gone,
for wonders nowadays can be done.
Our vision's precious, don’t you see,
and sight helps all to live life free.
But sometimes we must bear some pain,
to live a life of fun again!
Ivor G Davies
Long poem by
Carolyn Crawford | Details | . You can read it on PoetrySoup.com' st_url='http://www.poetrysoup.com/poem/lawd,_ahm_too_tired_to_shout_639259' st_title='LAWD, AH'M TOO TIRED TO SHOUT'>
by Carolyn V. Crawford AKA Rachel Dunkerque
Won't you come on and shout!
You didn't come up to Heaven
To sit down and pout.
AH KIN POUT EF AH WANNA, LAWD
AH'M TOO TIRED TO SHOUT.
BEEN A LONG TIME GITTIN' HEANH
AH'M JES TOO TIRED TO SHOUT.
But you ought to want to shout
Since it took you so long
Don't you feel like shouting
With this heavenly throng?
'SIDE FROM MY OLD BODY BEIN' SO ACHY AND TIRED
AH'M GITTIN' TIRED O' YOU NAGGIN' ME TO SHOUT, SHOUT, SHOUT!
YOU RIGHT, AH BEEN A LONG TIME GITTIN' UP TO DIS PLACE
EF AH HAD DE STRENGTH, AH'D SLAP YOU IN DE FACE
YOU DIDN'T MIND ME WOIKIN' SUNUP TO SUNDOWN.
PAID NO 'TENTION WHEN AH WRINKLED FROM ALL O' MY FROWNS
YOU KNOW, DIS TIREDNESS STARTED BACK WHEN AH WAS FIVE YEARS OLD
LONG 'FO AH EVER KNOWED AH EVER HAD A SOUL.
AH LUGGED BUCKETS O' WATER TO WATER DE CROPS
HOED AND HOED TILL AH THOUGHT AH'D DROP
PICKED BERRIES IN DE MOANIN', IN DE HEAT OF DE DAY
WASHED CLOTHES FUH DE WHITE FOLKS TILL MY HANDS TURNT GRAY.
But Evalina, Evalina, that's all over now
You came up to Heaven to rejoice and wear a crown.
So Evalina, Evalina, please come on and shout
Let's rejoice for a while, now come on and shout.
GIMME TIME TO BLOW MY BREAF, LAWD
AH AIN'T MADE O' NO STEEL
MY FEETS HURTS ME SO BAD
AIN'T 'BOUT TO GIT TO MY KNEES
TO PRAY UP TO DE POINT O' SHOUTIN'
'CAUSE MY KNEES ACHE, TOO
SO DON'T TELL ME AH'M JES' POUTIN'
MY SHOUTIN' IS THROUGH
'SIDES AH SHOUTED ENOUGH
DOWN WHERE AH COME FROM
AH THOUGHT DIS PLACE WAS QUIET
OR AH WOULDNA COME.
ALL DESE FOOLS JES' HOLLERIN'
JES' SHAKIN' AND SHOUTIN'
LAWD, AH AIN'T CRAZY.
AIN'T GON' LET YOU WEAR ME OUT.
Evalina, Evalina, you have to hear me out
I can't let you sit down, you have to come on and shout
Everybody's singing, rejoicing and shouting
Nobody came here to sit down and pout.
LISTEN HEANH YOU PROPER TALKIN' SUCKER
AH'M SAYIN' ONE MORE TIME
EF YOU DON'T LEAVE ME ALONE
AH'M GON' KNOCK YOU FLAT DOWN.
AH AIN'T SHOUTIN' FOR NOBODY
AH AIN'T SHOUTIN' 'ROUND NO THRONE
AH AIN''T ACTIN' LAK NO WILD DOG
HOLLERIN' FUH A BONE
AH DON'T CARE EF THE THRONE IS MADE OF PURE GOLD
AH DON'T CARE EF MY WINGS WON'T UNFOLD
LAWD, EF AH CAN KEEP SETTIN' HEANH
DAT'S JES' WHAT AH'M GON' DO
SO YOU MIGHT AS WELL ACCEPT DE FACK
DAT EVALINA IS THROUGH
AH AIN'T SHOUTIN' FUH YOU AND NOBODY ELSE
EF YOU WANT ANY SHOUTIN' DONE, DO IT YO'SEF
AH'M GON' SET RAT HEANH ON DIS COMFORTABLE SEAT
SO EF AH WUZ YOU, LAWD, AH'D GIVE ME SOME ICE TEA
LET ME SET HEANH AND WATCH
GWONE, HAVE A GOOD TIME
EF YOU DO LAK AH TELL YOU
WE GETS 'LONG JES' FINE
BUT DEAR LAWD 'FO YOU GO
IT'S TO YOU AH GIVE MY PLEA
BRING ME A TUB O' HOT WATER
SO AH CAN SOAK DESE TIRED FEET
IT'S BEEN SO ROUGH GITTIN' UP HEANH
AH DESERVE A LITTLE TREAT
CAUSE LAWD, AH'M JES' SO TARD,
DEAR LAWD, AH'M SO BEAT.
Long poem by
J. W. M. Earnings | Details |
At 8:30 AM,
"Get up, LAURA! Charlie! Wake up...Robert...Wake up."
No reply...no reply...just ignore my wake up calls...yell at me all you want
You make me cry...cry...just shatter me like glass...you place me in the trash, but I still feel this discontent
Deep inside of me...
There's a sea of remorse swirling around me...
At 12:15 AM,
No reply...no reply...
"What are you doing?"
I just want to cry...a river...why?
She still ignores me...now I'm feeling the anxiety...
She still jokes around with me, but I feel so angry...and so empty...
She's texting her friends again...I must talk to her sometime
She still doesn't answer my calls...she doesn't care to wipe off my grime
Sponging inside of me...
I guess I'm left with my chores for today
My heart is swelling up in dismay...and my sky turns to gray
And I pray...for relief and I just want to say...
I love my sisters and brothers, but they truly don't care for me...or at least that's what I think till this very day
This lonesome feeling sufficates me...
Go ahead and ignore me, sister
You just added another blister
In my mouth, my hopelessness avalanches all over the ground
You make me frustrated...and now my head spins round and round
And I feel bound...
By stress and torment!
Go ahead and neglect my voice
My heart is seeping out misery...pumping with fret...
while you text your friends and rejoice
In my head, my painstaking regrets torture me profoundly
You don't care to listen - live your life without me
My soul is left in the cold...
Oh! Go ahead! Let me mold...mold...
I worry about you, sister...
But you left me to dry like glue...you made me suffer
don't beg to differ...
Go ahead! Blow fire in my direction...
I warn you...you don't want to see an eruption
I don't want to be ensnared by my corruption...
Please God...pick me off from the ground...
and show me some direction
Or I'll be broken down like the titanic...
And You don't wanna see me panic...
At 1:00 AM,
I decide to pray to God for protection...
I pray...I pray...
I wait for His reply..........................
He helped me fight
my depression wars
He unchained me from the cage...
and taught me how to fly
He cherished me...
He understood me
and He still does till this day...
He healed my sores...
And He doesn't ignore my calls!
He makes me feel content
even in the midst of hardships -
I pray...I wait...I cry...
For His comfort daily...
to nourish me
when I feel ignored
Or when I'm stabbed in loathe...
I pray that Your peace be restored
In our family once more.
To fix the broken glass...to fix the emotions breaking us all
For the chaos to cease
To make the whole world rejoice...to encourage us to stand tall
Will love make us whole again?