The kittens found my bag of words
And in their furry glee
They tapped them with their tiny paws
And wrote a poem for me
The mouse, a house bound hermit
Used its subtle tail
To add some punctuation
Lest the meter fail
The dog sniffed idly, unimpressed
For he was wary of those three
For he’s the only one it seems
They send outside to pee
So, if you’ve two kittens and a mouse
Hide those words inside a barrel
Or bear the brunt of what they do
For poetically …they’re feral
I am filled with rage and frustration. I’m doing my best, pushing forward with everything I have, yet I feel forced to halt my own progress. In a tempestuous fury, I question you.
I lead, I strive, and every step feels like a battle with you. You have it easy, assuming I’ll shoulder everything while you play ignorant, yet you know exactly how to get what you want. Do you see me as a fool, or am I just a convenient toy someone to be picked up and discarded at will?
Must I always be the one to carry the weight of every decision? I try to think ahead, to use my mind, but it feels as though I’m holding everyone’s hand, mapping out every step, every outcome. It’s always on me. I am the one who must bear it all, and I’m about to explode.
I have my own struggles, my own conditions to manage but who’s there for me? I’m the one who must bear the brunt of the pain. That’s what it means to be a man, isn’t it? To sacrifice, to endure, to stand unyielding.
That’s it. That’s the life we’re told to lead.
« Long love struck with the shape of you
Captivated by your carmine hue » M.L.
I bow to every beat you undertake,
I rise to rhythm you race up for my sake,
I thank persistent pulse that has no break,
I laud enormous effort that you make,
I am blessed you keep me live and awake,
I apologize for all the heartache.
You bear the brunt of battles all my life,
You smoothly soften my struggles with strife,
You finesse my fluctuating feelings,
You smoothly soothe my drudgery dealings,
You endure trials and triumphs, dusk to dawn,
You are oft turned off but your beat goes on.
P.S. With your vital vigour I am in awe -
For every breath you kindly let me draw.
January 27, 2023
. for public domain
Ivory towers, long corralled and walled
behind an ever present iron fence,
execute the will of an elite called,
gilded they serve and glow with intelligence.
And some beyond the privileged boundaries,
where Nature governs by its cruel whims,
and casts long shadows of vagaries,
not blessed to sing the heavenly hymns,
raise our ears above the din to hear
civilized melodies of score and chant,
to fill our days with a Life held dear,
to bear the brunt of cacophonous rant.
tired morning
This morning a song from a film
filtered through my mind “what was it all for Alfie.”
I had no choice but being born, played no part of the proceeding
but had to bear the brunt of the aftermath.
The emptiness of poverty, the view of the sunlight from an opposite wall
in a back yard.
The dread of the midnight flight, bare rooms, linoleum floor doomed to endless boredom, no expectation of a blue sky day.
We, children, played in the street a window broke, they, the boys, disappeared
so quickly I was left holding a ball that wasn't mine
the policeman was so tall, my denial was a tearful whisper my mother
had to pay, and she slapped my face. Yet there was a moment of happiness green grass and animals that I had to forego.
What is life for?
I poured myself into your onyx eyes scene;
wanted you to see my soul, and its story.
Like you, brother whale, I endure life’s tough schemes;
while navigating in seas, sunlit glory.
No medal beams on your marvelous bold breast;
yet, like me, you bear the brunt of human fault.
Your faith and strength get you through the toughest tests;
we kindred souls, persisting, can conquer all.
He said, "Dad, I thought men were like Atlas, they bear the brunt of all humanity? They were supposed to do anything and everything?" Before dad spoke, he muffled a choke and remembered back when his boy was just a lad; he had felt two inches tall as he held the world in his arms; as tears streamed down his face and he attempted to save face, he realized truth was somewhat out of place. Now, his boy was old enough to know the requirements of man. The dad bowed gracefully and spoke humbly, he had disregarded every attribute he should have been teaching. The world spins on its own whim. No one has the strength to uphold everyone. Do the best you can. Strive to be a better man. It wasn't three generations ago, your great-great grandad was freed into Black History. Always remember, spring in December, when our darkest days, lit the brightest days. A man's duty, above honor and glory, is to pave the way. Whether people follow or retreat, that's their reprieve. A man just needs to create a path a son can choose to follow.
Above all else, my wisdom to you is wealth.
If you Lick the brain of the bear
You will be a poet my dear
So she went with a gun
To the woods of Astran
Could not bear the brunt of the bear
Some Day I’m Coming Back
The things that made us who we are
aren’t written in a book
nor do the things they gave us
equal what they took.
Hands that rocked the cradle
soon left welts behind
the harshness of their laughter
made it less than kind.
Priest at Sunday dinner
guest at a meal he’s leeching
washed down with Irish whiskey
and the ******** that he’s preaching
of the sacred and the pious
and all the souls he saves,
bite your cheek and do not utter,
kiss their ass though they are knaves.
Walk the streets in other’s clothing
knowing that it once was new,
bear the brunt of other’s laughing
at the coat and not at you.
Grit your teeth and sheath your anger
for you must be kind and meek
when just once you’d like to give them
the beating that they seek.
Harden heart and nerve and sinew
refuse to knuckle under
protect whatever’s left
from the hands of gods that plunder.
Savor freedom’s single breath
view escape through dungeon’s crack
holding tight to rage’s mantra
“some day I’m coming back”.
John G. Lawless
for Vicky Tsiluma
contest – I’ll Be Back
I've picked the scabs until they bleed,
And then wonder why they never heal
Is it just a compulsive need
For pain to be what I mostly feel?
A Masochist- Antagonist!
Perfect Punch-drunk Pragmatist!
The Hypnotist who slits his wrists-
And I shall suffer in the midst
The Agony cuts one half of me
(I'll bear the brunt of all of this...)
Consistently inconsistent
Responsibly irresponsible
Flies among the birds
Yet the rat is his shape...
... The hypocrite...
The truthful liar
A pious criminal
Belongs to the two ends
Mouth: Two sided
Leaking words...
... The hypocrite...
Healthy but sick
Hungry but full
He is the foolish wise
Himself he deceives
Abeit thinking the world he deceiveth
He knoweth not
Full or not
He hath his stomack...
... The hypocrite...
Black nor white
Here nor there
Hence nor thence
He is.
... The hypocrite...
He tells them
That he hates us.
Us he tells
Hateful are they to him!
Inside his belly,
Both sides he had cheated
He hath the gain
Or so he thought...
... The hypocrite...
Then he enjoins good
But he is immersed in same.
He hath disease
Yet he admit not.
Help he yet refuse
From those who knows.
To others,
He is the best...
... The hypocrite...
For him
Is a great torment
Which he knoweth not...
... The hypocrite...
Let's cure the world
Of this scourge
Lest we all
Bear the brunt of this disease
Called...
... Hypocrisy...
Humiliation from my superior chair,
Company HR adding to the insult,
Is that the corporate world ??
Keeping my temper all time low and attuned,
Not able to bear the brunt of hostility,
Lacrymals activate in humility, a decade's victory.
Not reckoning the dedication and quality work,
Just to gratify their false egotism,
These dictator bosses purposely recidivate.
A vain hope to work in congenial environ,
To work with innovation and prosper is an irksome distress,
Individual's ladder, lacks concern for the civilised.
Incorrigible illusion to serve humanity,
And take country ahead in unison beyond the infinite,
Sorry, but that's the corporate world !!!
But now determined as I stand,
though a tiny drop in vast ocean,
Facing all odds like a solid rock,
Revert to normal taking road to revolution.
Written long back, not a single comment.
Now entered for contest 'This poem really s***s' by Jerry T Curtis
This hole in my breast
Hollowed out
by the pointless drilling
of empty thoughts
that go nowhere
and lead to nothing.
Shapes dance before my eyes
Ghosts from a stolen moment
Wraiths of smoke and cold air
Echoing the cradle, heralding the grave.
It feels like I'm walking over broken glass
Shoeless and without direction
Going round in circles upon broken glass
My life.
My life is this,
A slow crucifixion
Screws in place of nails,
A slow churning and grafting into meat.
I, unwilling messiah
Must bear the brunt of sins
Trussed upon me by the sinful
Trussed upon me by those that came before
Slammed the door of hope in my face
Left me cold, scalded and blinded in the dark
Of their failed hopes and stunted dreams.
This hole in my heart
Is my humanity;
It defines me
And makes me definite.
Carlos
New York City has a plan
To build a “transfer station;”
Such a pleasant moniker
For so much aggravation.
For in more realistic terms,
They really mean a dump.
Giving it a fancy name
Won’t even fool a chump.
Tons of smelly garbage
Will arrive in endless trucks
Bringing traffic, rats and noise
And costing mega-bucks.
A local center used by schools
And camps for recreation
Will bear the brunt of all the evils
Of this “transfer station.”
The residents who live nearby
Have argued and appealed,
But lack of empathy
From Speaker Quinn* has been revealed.
No neighborhood should suffer
When folks’ health is on the line.
I hope somebody’s listening,
For this neighborhood is mine!
*New York City Council Speaker
Pain comes in degrees,
In ever darkening shades
of misery
Today is a physical nightmare
Awesome is the pain
Nowhere is relief
Gives me naught but grief...
But endure I will
And fight on I will
I will conquer this agony
Trust in my ability
To bear what I must bear,
To face what I must face,
For physical pain..
Must be put in its place
No pain is forever
No sin is unforgiven
To prove this fact,
Our Lord has risen
To welcome us to Him
To help us with our sin
To bear the brunt of
resurrection
For we are all his kin...
So, despair not child,
Your day will come
When you are with
The love of some
Who see you for
What you really are,
A shining light above,
A precious star.
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