I can still smell him like he's close
But he could never be more far
I can still hear his laugh
Filling the room with that familiar sunshine
I can still see his smile
Lighting up the world brighter than ever
But of course, I only see him in my dreams
Because there is no chance of seeing him again
no chance of seeing his bright smile
Hearing his booming laugh
Smelling his warm wood scent
It's like he's still here but he's not here anymore
he won't ever be here again
And I need to accept that.
I need to accept that he has a new girl
A girl that's not me
He's loving a girl who's not me
It won't ever be me again
It hurts like I'm getting stabbed
but he's happy
and like I said I need to accept that.
As a part of life,
there are things
You may learn to accept without understanding,
and understand without accepting.
They exist, woven into the fabric of life.
You made peace with their presence,
whether through acceptance or comprehension.
But not through conviction.
For conviction demands both:
acceptances and to understanding,
not as a compromise,
but as absolutes.
Diary written within the mind of experiences
Instances with boundaries
The fears within
The Black Man being the Center Man
Spotlight and focus
Acceptances and rejections
Battling the world as if in the military
Times of tears
Being the Black Man meant
Is the world ready to handle to connect
Introspective
Knowing the Black Man will always be a Black Man
Prepared in all circumstances and situations
Compromise but will never surrender
The Black Man Principle
Complexity and Official
Black Man feelings
Unassured and lack confident
A world that doesn’t understand, but label the Blackman’s role
Assertive when needing to be
Black and Brown color trait
Racism high society
The Diary
Black Man
Survival
Commitment and Responsibility
Black Men are taking their place.
The Sum
By Benjamin Mui
I am not a failure Nor am I a success
I am not my rejections Nor am I my acceptances
I am not worthless Nor am I special
I am not my weakness Nor am I my strength
I am not a loss Nor am I a triumph
I am the sum of Nothing
Neither the bad Nor the good
Not who was Nor whoever is to come
I am what is Now
I am who I choose to be
I am my actions
…
I am
Lay Down Your Arms
by Michael R. Burch
Lay down your arms; come, sleep in the sand.
The battle is over and night is at hand.
Our voyage has ended; there's nowhere to go . . .
the earth is a cinder still faintly aglow.
Lay down your pamphlets; let's bicker no more.
Instead, let us rest here on this ravaged shore.
The sea is still boiling; the air is wan, thin . . .
lay down your pamphlets; now no one will “win.”
Lay down your hymnals; abandon all song.
If God was to save us, He waited too long.
A new world emerges, but this world is through . . .
so lay down your hymnals, or write something new.
If I remember things correctly, I wrote this poem in my early twenties, probably as a college sophomore or junior. It was one of my first acceptances by a literary journal, The Romantist. But I never received a copy, so I can’t be sure it was actually published, drat!
Sunlight we merely dream of
here amongst the bones
with the memories of the past
these haunted caverns
dank in their prisons
Acceptances specter
teaches our children
there before the pulpit of skulls
deaths contract is written
Reincarnations end pays the toll
rigmarole I see in their eyes
praising as such, this dry arid dust
for in the gloom of their minds
a festival of cadavers
explains their lives
Built to the walls these bodies piled
sacrificial font filled with lies
lay the drudgery
interminable
in this church of the night
The catacombs
devour
there is no light
In pale and empty form of soul
thus the habit of breathing
is the only goal
and here amidst the ancient bones
lays the memorial past
of these haunted caverns
The catacombs
devour
there is no light
What peculiar behavior I see.
That’s what is known as an idiosyncrasy.
It is inconsistent with acceptances in society.
Persons who have foibles in life
have actions that can cut like a knife.
Someone with an eccentricity requiring a nudge,
is in no position to decide or judge.
"I open the door and cross the threshold of imagination"
A Rambling Poet
An enchanted place
Where ex lovers still love me
Dead relatives live
Tears from the past dry
Years of mourning and pining
A forgotten dream
Failed attempts are successes
Rejections acceptances
Then I walk back through the doorway
Ready to accept reality
Haiku, Tanka and Crystalline
Jack Horne for Constance’s Three Gems contest
Written 29th July
Are there reasons why we all hold on?
Knowing well where the path shall lead to…
Finding a place perhaps to feel belong
Yet strangers we are to everyone we knew
The world isn’t at all so small
Simply too kept we all belong to be
Limited to means became things to adore
With strangers chanting for what couldn’t be
And to face with ever moving time
We can only move on with dire hopes to bear
Reasons learnt for acceptances to remind
For every one humanity… life isn’t at all fair
I have seen things others may not
Where others see things I may have pass
To understand remains an utterly thought
Yet… living a wanting life can one ask?
Perhaps of reasons we know to hold on
Wherever the end path may well lead us to be
Moments for places to feel belong
As strangers… are we all not simply humanity to be
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