I’m Physically and Emotionally tired
I don’t want to be the strong one anymore
I can’t this time
I don’t know what to do Daddy
I need your help down here
I can’t get back in control of my emotions
I’m having a hard time dealing with your absence
I’m having a hard time standing by myself
I need your help Daddy
I’m broken and lost without you Daddy
I need your will to want to carry on
I need your strength to over come this
I need your strength to stay standing
Your courage to fight back again
I need your help
Please Daddy I’m at a loss
How am I suppose to do this
I need your guidance
I need you to guide me back
To whom I was before
I need your help Daddy
I need your help
Copyright © Sabrina Niday Hansel | Year Posted 2013
In a new road,
Rain will fall,
Wind may blow,
Swifting our woe.
The road forever on and on,
Many paths to choose,
Many paths to take,
Through the shadows,
Through the night,
Clouds going by,
There we will lie,
Seeing shivered land,
Seeing the dead seas...
Through the edge,
Miles to go,
Rain may fall,
Through the nightfall,
Through the twilight,
Through the dusk,
Through the dawn,
Paths on and on,
'Till the road comes along...
Copyright © Ruben A. Hernandez Diaz | Year Posted 2013
I do not know?
Stress is starting to overwhelm me;
It’s certainly wearing on my health.
To many stressors all surround me:
Lack of time, lack of wealth,
Adult children always sponging off me…
Are pushing me into early death.
My landlord is not helping;
He’s forcing us to leave.
The mess my children made
Is something nobody would believe.
I’ts too late for cleaning.
I’ll be changing occupations
If interviews go well.
The uncertainty amplifies frustrations…
Certain Purgatory, uncertain Hell.
Hoping for tomorrow,
A better day…
Beg, steal, borrow.
Copyright © Mark J. Halliday | Year Posted 2014
God is always love
Forever seek the kingdom;
Praise the creator
Keep giving what you can give
Please endure until the end
Protecting the meek ones earth
Watching over us
Helping us to cope with life
Comforted with hope and trust
When you find rhythm
You find your hearts inner core
Celebrate the times
Make them better than before
Reminisce and dance all night
Copyright © humble b | Year Posted 2013
L-iving in a world of vast
souls formed from
another voided world,
E-ntering thru portals
from their world to earth.
O-ozing spetacular smell
and wail when the chips
N-urtured from cradle to
entity with a new world
O-rganizes oneself for the
task ahead,passing thru
hurdles of life unabased
R-eaps the fruit of labor
with joy or heavy heart.
A-ge sets in,mission
accomplished or not will
dawn on the entity.
I-n retrospect,he thinks
about his childhood and
how life was to him.
L-iving in confidence or
shame,he bows his head
in victory or defeat.
O-nly the taste of time
will tell the durability of
V-oid of preference the
aim result bears the
foundation for his lineage.
E-njoyment or lack lies
with the works of the
man,for there is no food
for the slothful.
Y-oung ones,a stitch in
time saves nine,make
haste while the sun
O-iling your lamb always
like the ten virgins is the
key to success.
U-rging you to shun peer
pressure and focus on
the course marked out
for you by fate,so a
fulfilled life you shall live.
An acrostic for you
Copyright © Ifeanyi Bob Ekechukwu | Year Posted 2013
How can one express the baffling depths of obscurity?
How can one behold to open the shafts of the mind?
I have never been able to solve the mystery—
Of myself. . .
I wish at times that my life was no more
That I could live as another and finally see things right
But I am always stuck in this darkness
And I cannot see this mind in light
There are beasts. . .demons prowling through the wasteland
Searching for any remaining life
And if they are ever found—
They are doomed and consumed
Fear is their downfall and they never fail to smell it
Their ashes remain, dancing with the imaginary breeze
It is silent here—there are no answers
I wish there were answers. . .
But maybe there was never a reason
No answers. . .
Talons extend and clench around my heart
They will never seek me out—they left me here
It is like they knew…I had no reason—that was the answer
I feel the pulse of my dangling life
Alone in the dark, whimpering like a child
I have scared myself, becoming this dragon-daggered youth
No balm in Gilead!
No eyes to see
All I know will never be free
I don’t need anyone!
You are a disgrace—scum of the waste!
You have everything, you ungrateful little nothing
You are a joke. . .
So swallow it all up like the pushover you are
Stand your lowest and trudge right through
No questions. No answers. Just . You.
Or just lie back down into the mush of disease
It has already infected you to the core
Accept who you are, you ugly pestilence!
I hate you
Who are you to be glorified?
Dream snatcher. . .murderer of all things bright
Saturated in what you call light
I see right through—even as the reflections shatter
All of the dead kept you alive—they all matter…
But alive you are the worst there is
False savior—edited attention whore
I never want to see your face again
See, that’s why I hide. . .
Desperation. . .desperation. . .
I sob and cry kneeling in defeat
For once I am right. . .I am right
Copyright © Laura Breidenthal | Year Posted 2013
You tug and bend at the chains weighing down,
struggling to even make one small dent.
You try to burn the chains that have you bound,
but to no avail... Not one link is bent.
Cruelty and sadism are expressed here,
in the holder of the chains who you'd trust;
and those close-by strive to halt painful tears,
but the chains make it all a complete bust.
The chains hold strong from the mind to the source,
causing loneliness to fill the bruised heart.
Nothing right now withers those chains of course,
but nothing is free from breaking apart.
If all else fails and no progress is made,
just give those tough chains time to rust and fade.
Copyright © Veronica Capo | Year Posted 2015
I do not know?
Anger, pain and dramatic stress
The 3 things that I possess
Me, Reggie is okay at times
I sometimes choose to confide in my rhymes
I express my feelings through a pen
Just like some women get satisfaction through men.
This isn’t a poem because this is a thought
I have thoughts moving so fast, just too fast to be caught.
I hate being stressed
Just like I hate being possessed
I don’t mean to sound evil and mean
But I am different from the other people you have seen.
This is not a poem…this is a thought
I have thoughts moving so fast that they can’t be caught.
I have it good to some…others have it good to me
Some don’t realize how hard it is to be
A poet…it’s hard writin’ poetry with a lot of feeling
You feel forced to write something appealing
You break down cause cus’ you feel an obligation
To write good poetry that there breaks your concentration
I found a solution that my mind’s fighting
Maybe I should stop all the poetry and all the writing
These are fast ideas too fast to be caught
This isn’t a poem this is just a thought
Copyright © Reginald Sellers | Year Posted 2005
If throughout the city you are a roamer,
you will see the word "civilization" is a misnomer.
It looks like a city, but it's a jungle out there.
When walking down the streets, one must take extra care.
There are liars, cheats, and crooks galore.
Nothing has changed. It's the same as before.
What does it take to make a right from a wrong?
Citizens must be street smart and strong.
inspired by another member's poem
Copyright © Robert Pettit | Year Posted 2014
We are all in the same boat
Just trying to stay afloat
Not drowning under the waves
That ripple and grow more each day
Life jackets can help us bounce
But something comes along to pounce
Dragging us down to the bottom
There's only so much we can fathom
Until we can't catch our breath
From the murky water depths
Of life that happens every day
From an anchor we just sway
Hoping to survive this fate
Of a weight that's much too great
Everyone is suffocating
We could use some incubating
So we can breath once again
Letting all this drowning end
Copyright © robin davis | Year Posted 2013
I promise everyday I will not fail,
For my eyes will tell you a very deep tale.
A story about a girl lost in this life,
Hoping and praying for a little light.
It all began at an early age,
Unsure of what was on the next page.
She walked the road of uncertainty,
Even though the ending was blurry.
Head held high with her chin in the air,
With a pain in her chest she couldn't bare.
But still she walked with such pride,
Everyday she always tried.
Weakness wasn't an option in her mind,
For she still had herself to find.
Everyone she met she had them fooled,
The pain she felt kept her fueled.
If they just took the time,
I swear this isn't a crime.
Just take a few seconds from your day,
Ask this stranger if she is okay.
In this moment you'll hear a sigh of relief,
This is something she couldn't believe.
One by one the tears fall from her face,
Each one representing a memory she can't erase.
In silence she stares you in the eyes,
Rummaging in her head looking for a lie.
"These tears are tears of joy",
She spits out quickly to the young boy.
Palms sweaty with a fast beating heart,
Where to begin where does she start.
Caught off guard she studders in fear,
In a moment she hadn't pictured for years.
Pulling herself together piece by piece,
This isn't the time to break the peace.
So here comes the smile,
The one she purposely rehearsed meanwhile.
But still to this day,
She is convinced she will never be okay.
Copyright © Tory Tory | Year Posted 2016
Who would have thought the girl with the bright smile and joy enflamed in her eyes
Sits' in the corner crying herself to sleep every night
Who would have thought the boy walking the halls always giving a hand
Wishs' that when he sleeps the gentle light may seep him off his feet
Would would have thought the girl that ended her own life
Was raped, beaten and bullied at both home and school
Who would have thought our childrens children
Have sought to use weapons and let eragancy become them making them a fool
Who would have thought that no matter how we try for peace
We show our children war is the answer
Who would have thought that our guidence
Has be clouded and no longer is pure
Who would have thought teenage life is harder
When your getting bullied or picked on in school
Who would have thought that a person couldn't walk out of their house
With out fear of being raped, shot, or stabed and death is finally at your door
Who would have thought in life know a day's
Death is more near to our lives then ever before
Who Would Have Thought
Copyright © Nicole Arvizu | Year Posted 2013
Amidst the stress and strains of life rejoice
Don't fold now, you still can play the hand
Forget old rules, make a new paradigm for choice
The brail and vang is in your will's command
In your heart, just know your cause with God is right
The stakes for all is everything you are
Where your hands toil, work with all your might
And point the stern towards your homing star
Do not quit your dreams now, do not complain or cry
Stand boldly at the bow and keel against the wind
What matters if in the great struggle we die
We could not live forever anyhow, and still we win
For we have opened a path unopened before, and shew
Men how, for the world will after us in glory
But not behind the whimpering soul will any pursue
The grimacing shame of a coward's history.
Know whose you are, and who you are reclaim
For God made you in his image, and set your heart
To have dominion here, to replenish in the flame
Subdue the earth, now with honor do your part!
Tell winds and waves be still, tell the fire break
You have God's glory to your name, stand and fight
Do not quiver, let not the sun-centered rod shake
Day comes the morning after the darkest night.
Copyright © David Smalling | Year Posted 2010
Teacher, shall I write a sonnet? Must I?
When I’m not so sure of my poetry…
Shall I write a poem of fourteen lines?
In iambic pentameter –by me?
What shall I write about? What can I say?
In this sonnet which I must jot down now?
My sonnet should be about what today?
To write a great sonnet I’m not sure how…
Teacher, can I write this sonnet later
For I’m not sure of what to write about?
The teacher then takes my simple paper
And “you already did.” my teacher shouts.
‘Detention’ my teacher says, ‘for lying,’
‘But thank you,’ she adds, ‘for at least trying.’
© Mariam Mababaya.
Copyright © Mariam M. | Year Posted 2013
Jab Meri Bechaini Mit Jayegi
Jab Mere Dilko Sukoon Mil Jayega
Yeh Khaalipan Mit Jayega
Do Pal Ki Chandni Ke Liye
Aj Bhi Zinda Hoon Main
Meri Khaamoshi Ke Ageh Aasmaan Bhi Khatam Ho Jayega
Kehne Ke Liye Toh Roz Marta Hoon Main
Thoda Aur Marne Ke Liye
Yeh Deewana Kal Phir Ayega
Copyright © shadab shaikh | Year Posted 2013
White board…names written hori-
To go pee…right when class starts –
THAT’S just wrong…
Of students who have bladder
Problems – WOW!
Not using lunchtime to do
No one knows
When to do their duties – SER-
Copyright © JW Earnings | Year Posted 2013
In the past I remember how things were so simple
When I was little my cheeks had such cute dimples
Looking back I remember how sweet I was as a child
When I think again my heart told me I was so wild
Yet, in time my simple choices was revealed as true as anyone
The reason I was the way I am today, I did things, to get done
Finishing lots of my undone ideas was so incredibly hard
So I figure my heart and choices should never hold in no bard
I never thought I would learn heart aches and pain
With such under statement I did things for no gain
I was a child who held true to what he has learned
But as we got older those kinda perspective would get me burned
When I made up my mind that people was not kind
I led myself in a confusion that I was blind
In the past I do recall that seeing is believing
So I was the one who stood their with friends leaving
Alone, I felt I did not belong, I cherish each person who knew me
I got older too see how the world works it stung me like a bee
The feeling of tingling ran through my vain
My view of the world and people who knew me was stained
Now I know they are out for their selves with no kind feelings
Life I know is just a joke because of who I hung out with seeing
Today as I look at the world it is in such shambles and astray
And rather fallow everyone I just walk away
Copyright © Reynaldo Mast | Year Posted 2013
Kids go down
The slide…they head toward the swings
TIME TO SCREAM!
Free time ends
Their parents want to go home
Copyright © JW Earnings | Year Posted 2013
It's hard doing something different.
It's difficult staying yourself.
In a world so accustomed to conformity,
It feels nearly impossible to be unique
As the one He created you to be.
How do we find the strength?
How do we find the courage?
How do we find the bravery?
Where do we defeat fear?
Well, He's hanging on The Cross
Giving life to you and me.
Thank You Jesus!
Let us not forget
Nothing is impossible,
For with God,
All things are possible!
Thank You Father!
We give our lives to You!
We are Yours!
Praise You forever
In Jesus' Name,
Copyright © Kevin C. Martin | Year Posted 2013
generic minds listen to generic music
have generic thoughts that are unknowingly abusive
watch generic things talk about generic things
gee this generic *****is spreading like a disease
better get your flu shot
thats what they said to me
a suicidal vaccine
a subliminal killing spree
its contagious and the outrageous
thing about it is that the people are blind in an eye
that they didn't even know they had
it's sickening to watch these clueless civilians
inside the looking glass
with nightmares of being free
without a key to their mind
for it is trapped in the frequency
in the illusion of time
bathed in our universe
killing all that refuse to see
those that admit to hypocracy
or see the message in hip hop
how cant you see
the message in the lyrics that
bring adolescents to their knees
from bullet wounds conflicting their flesh
contradicting that they're the best
but the songs keep telling them that they dont need no rest
that they dont wanna go home
that they should ride alone
with the gat as their only companion
and so the only path they choose is the one that they're told
until they grow old and hope turns to a window pane
inside a window pane, until all they feel is pain
they realize that the music itself is ashamed
so whats to look up to
when you cant even speak when you cant even walk because you look so bleak
your eyes are sunken from the tv you're infested with the dee zees
now its too late to turn around and live for your conscious
so when youre screaming oh please
close your eyes and bring your mind to life
open your eyes for the first time
and never wonder why
since the answer this entire time
has been inside
and you better find it before you die
you dont want your soul to be in a pool with all the others
a buncha brothers missing their mothers
but only seeing strangers
only feeling the haters
wishing they would have used their minds when they had them
and now its too late,
now it's time for another new born fate to grab them
Copyright © Green Trees | Year Posted 2012
When you’re born into this world of ours.
You have no idea if you’ll reach its ivory towers.
If you’re lucky to be born into a house of wealth.
Chances are, you’ll go far, have money for yourself.
And even if you aren’t a stiff, who got a lucky draw.
You can still makes millions, as we certainly have saw.
So what exactly is the definition of a successful life?
Money, fame, success, children and a loving wife?
My point of view is one that’s true, what my father told me.
Son, peace of mind, if you can find, you’ll never end up lonely.
I heard the words, not one absurd, but somehow didn’t listen.
For I’m 61, my life’s not fun, not an enviable position.
How I got here, perhaps that’s the question on your mind.
It would take a book to explain, how I came into this bind.
I’ll give you the short of it, I made some bad decisions.
And now it seems that I’m living in the Spanish Inquistion.
But you’re not dead you say, there’s more life has to give.
I agree and want to be out of this insane prison and to live.
Want to enjoy, to employ, the gifts and all the wonder.
And not be attacked, from the back and live a life asunder.
At 61, your life’s not done, you could have died at twenty.
You’ve had many years upon this earth, enjoyed it aplenty.
But if you’re broke, your fire’s unstoke, not a life of envy.
You ask yourself day and night, what will be my end be?
If I had fifty thousand dollars at this point in my life.
I’d create a machine, that would put away all my strife.
So if I can sell this house I own for more than what I bought her
I’ll take the profit, if I can, if I’m not underwater.
And with that money, this ain’t funny, I’ll make a whole lot more.
For I have ideas in my head that will even up the score.
It’s sad, it’s true what I must do, and list this property.
And chances are, I’ll go far, live life properly.
Copyright © Guy Chaifetz | Year Posted 2013
This poem I wrote. I call it " Let Him Go "
Sweetheart don't cry
Don't let him make you feel like your nothing
You do have family even though we are not close by
I know your heart is crushing
Don't harp on the past
Don't let him play with your head
You need to get over him fast
His feelings for you are dead
Over 2 years and you still don't have a ring
Your not the one he calls his wifey to be no more
Take a seat and listen up girl here is the thing
He's playing with your feelings and using you like a two dollar whore
I know you were smart once and can be again
He has you so brain washed it's not funny
I know hearing all this is a strain
Think of the example your setting for you little ones honey
Hold your head high and walk away from that loser mama's boy
Show him that your the one that is too good for his sorry ass
Hell he's such a mama's boy you can find better pleasure in a toy
Your related to me so come on show your sass
Let go of the past and look to a new future
Let go of the pain and the control freak
Say bye bye Looser
It will get easier one step at a time week by week......
Copyright © mandy cabral | Year Posted 2013
He was always so happy
strong and bold.
He'd give you the shirt off of his back.
He had a rough life
growing up through the depression,
but like he always does,
he got through it.
He has two boys, of whom he is so proud.
Moved from Regina, to Victoria.
He had the best life anyone his age could have wanted.
But ever since his wife died,
he has not been the same.
But like he has always done,
he got through it.
just a little forgetful.
That's how it always starts out...
But like always, he powered through it,
He is not the same person that I used to know.
He been sentenced to the prison in his own mind.
Possessed by the thoughts of his dogs ashes.
He likes to play the blame game,
but we know he doesn't remember that it was him.
He wakes up in the night
shaking with pain,
tears streaming down his face.
There is nothing we can do,
Two more tylenol.
Hold on to hope
for as long as you can,
It's only a matter of time now.
He gets vocal, a very loud tone.
He'll block you in your room
and make false accusations
But we know that it's the pain induced monster in him.
Tick tock, tick tock...
You can't handle the stress anymore
you have to leave.
Just hope for the best,
maybe it will get better.
Surprise, it doesn't.
Your denial is foolish, everyone knows
what happens next.
All results of
Copyright © Laura Hamilton | Year Posted 2013
Land of the free
Home of the slaves
The blood, sweat and tears of my ancestors resonate
Amongst the soil where they were slain
I’m hearing their struggle
I’m feeling their pain
I can’t imagine being forced to part from my family
All for massa’s gain
So I pay homage to those who promoted change
People like every slave who tried to escape
Nat Turner, Ms Carlotta, Harriet Tubman
And the safe houses who were in accord
And peg leg Joe with his song
Follow the drinking gourd.
People like, the disregarded - those thrown overboard
And who was dismissed and defamed
The ones who were stripped of their soul, their pride, their names
The list could go on
The full will never be told
So I pay homage to others who were bold
Like John Brown, The Freedom Riders, Sojourner Truth
Ida B Wells, Phyllis Wheatley, Maya Angelou,
Langston Hughes and Charles Drew
George Washington Carver, Ruby Bridges
Booker T Washington and Mary McCleod Bethune
Charles Houston, Ralph Bunche, Fredrick Douglass
WEB Dubois, Paul Robeson, Ralph Abernathy
Benjamin Banneker, Marcus Garvey and Crispus Attucks
Who’s death by the way
Symbolized the American lie
You cant declare the rights of all men
While the people of African decent rights get denied
But still we rise
Thanks to Dr Martin Luther King, Malcolm X,
The Black Panthers, the Buffalo Soldiers and Tuskegee Airmen
None who were showed any love
Yeah it’s an uphill battle,
But obviously greatness can be done.
We can rise above this stigma
That blacks are lazy and daunting
That our worth is null and void
And in essence minus nothing
And of all the names mentioned
And the greatness of their successes
No one has been able to erase the evil transgressions of a racist mind
And once you have experienced just a taste of it
It changes your perception of time
The oppression beats like the drum on the chariot
Of when it was finally time to escape to freedom
Copyright © humble b | Year Posted 2011
Breaking down in the heart and mind.
With all regrets that are truly not kind.
Shocked at people are, so painful to see.
Abused with hated and ecstasy.
Violated and directed with torments
Lost of words or comments.
Hatred gushing out of life long experience.
Reminding yourself to become absence.
Coward and scared to even breathe.
Like the feeling of knives unsheathe.
Sharp but not enough to cut.
Enough to scare like a door that immediately shut.
The hand raised to help you is a lie.
It is a hand that slaps you so you can die.
Rough around the edges.
Crawling in your dreams in ledges.
Powered to stay alive.
You feel people want you to take a dive.
Just stop, and fall down.
Hoping to break your mental crown.
Hiding a feeling that never feels real.
Like shaking hands with demons for a deal.
Blocked out, out of your own story.
Thinking that people are stealing your glory.
Ashamed with fear.
With eyes that are full of tear.
Lost in such hidden romance.
Luck has it seems to be a dance.
Moving around in your head.
With scary thoughts and dread.
Feels like you never leave.
So you feel so many that grieve.
In your mind that is lost.
Full of drama that holds you down in cost.
Keeping in the shadow.
You watch people so shallow.
Gut instinct says that life with them is a muse.
When your just standing your accuse.
Society is just so lame.
Like all the people that are in it your to blame.
Soloing life is a brief.
Walking away is some what a relief.
I dreamed of many things.
With beautiful sorrows of wings.
Wavered in a direction that leads no where.
Escaping everything by a hair.
Pointing into the sky.
And asking yourself why.
The cage is so big.
Just enough to put on a huge rig.
Moving back and fourth.
It feels that your life does not have a worth.
Caned by laws of laughter to deceive.
Shackled up to be bent to your will to receive.
When you hope to hope.
A person can just show you the rope.
They have such friendly hands.
Like the deserts of sands.
Dangerous it is to just keep walking in it.
Lost cannot find your way even a little bit.
Just seem like your heart feels dry.
Then you give up and give a sigh.
That moment that you do is just all a dream.
You are really in a ward you will scream.
Thrust upon you because you could not protect.
So what cost you is this effect.
Warping in to your mind to leave this place.
You feel full of disgrace.
With nothing to drink.
Causing your true self to think.
Grief is such a pain with sorrow to gain.
Looking out in your own rain.
Copyright © Reynaldo Mast | Year Posted 2013
She writes her songs and her poems,
not one person know 'em.
She listens to the sound of her music,
she's stuck to it like a tick.
If someone took the time to listen,
her true colors would glisten.
She's put on a mask,
and hid everything when someone asked.
She was the type of girl who would always laugh,
making you wish it would last.
She was the type of girl who would smile the day away,
too bad it is no longer that way.
She is now the girl who is depressed,
I bet you're impressed.
Since no one could tell
that she was going through hell.
Everyone thought she was happy,
when really, she felt crappy.
Everyone thought she was having the time of her life,
who would have guess her best friend was a knife?
She spent her days alone,
she seemed to do everything on her own.
Never once wanted help.
Thought she could do everything herself.
Then the day came,
when she lost the game.
She fell apart,
and everyone saw her broken heart.
They saw the way she overreacted.
Oh, if only you saw the way she acted.
She bruised herself, scratched herself, and made herself bleed,
no one knew what it was that she needed.
They saw her tears,
and that was what she feared.
They found out she wasn't okay,
oh, she hated that day.
Everyone found out about her secret,
and she wish they'd just forget,
but she knew they couldn't,
and that they wouldn't.
She left that town and started over,
no one knew she went undercover.
She said she got better,
when really... something else occurred.
She secretly hurt herself,
and walked away from help.
Everyone thought she recovered,
when really, she was undercover.
She secretly wanted to get worse,
no one knew of course.
No one cared to ask,
if she was wearing her mask.
Now it's too late,
she locked the gate.
everyone had forgotten she needed help.
Goodbye cold world,
this was a story of a girl
who once loved everyone
then feared who it was who won.
Copyright © Ana Jusino | Year Posted 2013
Beauty of nature
Why condense it down to God?
Isn’t life enough?
Copyright © Dan Keir | Year Posted 2013
He wants to say "I love you,"
But keeps it to "Goodnight."
Because love would mean some falling,
and she's afraid of heights.
Copyright © Tyler Kisner | Year Posted 2013
Poetry is about faith, a song, and sometimes a checkup.
It’s about that girl on the other side you want to linkup.
Poetry is about the beauty of life when you want to grow up.
It’s about a lost love and now all you want to do is throw up.
Poetry is about the frustration that makes you want to blowup.
It’s about all those things you just said and you want to backup.
Poetry is about a good night of sleep but you struggle to get up.
It’s about the time it takes you in a rush to put on your makeup.
Poetry is about being stuck in traffic because there's a pileup.
It’s about realizing you should taken your car in for a tuneup.
Poetry is about the spring fresh air in the morning when you getup.
It’s about enjoying a breakfast together with hotcakes and syrup.
Poetry is about being at your local bank when there's a holdup.
It’s about the police showing you all of these people in a lineup.
Poetry is about family reunions when you don't want to show up.
It’s about all of the gossip you hear while sipping on your teacup.
Poetry is about going to the doctor’s office to get a workup.
It’s about finding yourself at the local gym counting a pushup.
Poetry is about all of these emotions inside that need to letup.
It’s about writing things down balancing your life to shapeup.
Edward J Ebbs - September 13, 2014
Copyright © Edward Ebbs | Year Posted 2014
I do not know?
How can I be selfless without being used?
How can I be demanding without being so rude?
How can I open up without closing back down?
How can I speak if you don't hear a sound?
How can I trust without being betrayed?
Yet how could I leave... even after you stayed?
But how can you love me when I won't let you in?
So many questions.... where do I begin?
Memories now blurred, flying through my mind……
Now, I’m trying to repress the days of being youthful and blind.
Every morning I pull on my armor, right from within,
Preparing for a war, that I intend, to win.
If my heart is my comrade and my mind is the enemy,
Then in the midst of this battlefield,
Life is the remedy…
Trying to stay sane, knowing that although this is temporary, nothing is vain…
Learning that there is always a purpose and people will try to corrupt us, and bring you great shame…
Being told that ‘Victory isn't given to he who starts the race the strongest, but he who endures until the end.’
Trying to suspend you from learning to depend... on yourself,
instead making you depend on the wealth,
Of someone who doesn't even know who he is,
while you’re grasping the stealth of your true identity, in your right hand, in your heart, the knowledge…
Never been withheld
Feeling the world come crashing down on you, compacting into a mist of air so cool,
The breeze passing right through, right into the depths of your pores, to ensue,
The burning and broken and fragile pieces of the inhabitants of the earth from your birth til' now..
Physically becoming everything that you breathe, touch, conceive, munch, perceive, every aroma...
And every great or insignificant trauma, reflecting off your skin oh so temporarily, the mark so paper thin…
Physically, THAT is what you are…
Because we only see the physical, right?
Yet, behind every movie is there not a director… a cast?
And behind every painting is there not an artist, combining colors and lines so vast?
And behind every child is there not a journey, a past?
That you did not walk, yet you know that it’s there, not by sight, scent, taste, touch, or hearing... But something inside you, that says it makes sense, KNOWS that all of that is there,
Copyright © Angel C | Year Posted 2013