Best Inconveniently Poems
There's a place whence children dwell amid
fairy stories, popcorn rainbows & candied unicorns,
which is fine & dandy except when
you're supposed to be a grown-ass adult,
some people live 'round La-La landscapes
without a hint of reality's woefulness,
unable to read skywriting on the cosmos
If you believe in miracles or
that nothing ever changes
and love lasts forever and a day
or just say,
you got a damn ticket because
your unicorn was inconveniently double-parked,
rest assured thine meter is delusional
The Adjective Twin: A Poem of Pain
I am "presumptuous" -- and with my brother, "arrogant"
we are the adjective twin of "gentle" blame
of "gentle" wounding, of "gentle" continued "colonization"
constantly in an "unconscious" search for unsuspecting names to attach to,
so that we can remain collectively unconscious of our shadows.
We were born (and are constantly re-born)
from the culturally "unconscious" womb of (even "progressive") white privilege,
with the help of "pre-judgment" the midwife who abhors "decolonization."
And heed this warning: We do NOT like mirrors, because clear mirrors tell
(at an uncomfortable-making non-white-privileged "pace" of needed transformation)
the kind of "decolonization" truths that inconveniently bring to consciousness "well-intentioned" unconscious "Orientalisms,"
("Truths" that could potentially flourish into "Reconciliation" healing--IF allowed mirror-full-ness);
and these kinds of truth make my brother and I really (mostly "unconsciously") uncomfortable,
because we don't resonate with mirrors, with reflection,
'cause rather than truthfully being "set free"
we like to be comfortable in our privilege.
When we, the adjective twin attach ourselves to unsuspecting names
(who expect standards that befit real civility, real nonviolence, real caring)
Mother Earth's mirrors of tearful eyes break in 1,001 pieces of feel-goodist "progressive" self-deception,
that "gently" kill peace--on Earth.
Don't blame us, though,
(and definitely, but "gently" DO silence the wailing sirens of inconvenient awakening)
because we are the adjective twin,
and the "progressive" harm we cause is ever so "gentle" and "well-intentioned," you see?
By: Moji Agha (Mojtaba Aghamohammadi)
Monday, March 26, 2018
Boulder, Colorado
Stepping Over The Problem
I make my bed
on the street
Curled in a doorway
under your feet
You step over me
we're unlikely to meet
I'm covered in newspaper
sometimes a plastic sheet
trying to hold onto warmth
just a small amount of heat
Kelowna's councillors
they are so wise
They vote to shield
your delicate eyes
But where should we go
can't they hear our cries
Who will help them change perception
so they realize
they too one day
might fall on hard times
Then they might hope
a different logic applies
Instead vote on solutions
We too want a home
Do they think this is our first choice
sleeping in a doorway all alone
Can't they see we want food and comfort
or have their hearts turned to stone
Instead they'll equip a ticket giver
with a dumbphone
Because a few groan
Saying they don't feel safe
as I inconveniently suffer and moan.
Maybe next time
When you walk down the street
It will only be rich people you'll meet
I won't be sitting with a cup
begging for something to eat
the sad face you couldn't see
from your mind erased
Everything will seem perfect
nothing out of place
Or perhaps if you really cared
I'd have a proper place to sleep
with a bed and roof
and yes a bit of precious heat.
In response to Kelowna Council's decision to ban the homeless from sleeping on the streets.
Bare feet step onto the cold black and white mosaic tiles.
A few tiles are missing, revealing beige glue embedded with purple lint.
An inconveniently small black knob, striped with old toothpaste
is twisted
to illuminate the reluctant fluorescent fixture above the sink.
Red blood vessels peek through the yellowed whites of tired eyes.
Invisible throbbing temples nag about the previous night’s
transgressions.
A spot
on the forehead. New, maybe.
“What the hell is that?”
Water makes the spot more prominent.
Closer inspection reveals nothing to Ignorance.
Hotter water. Washcloth. Scrub.
A patch of red grows underneath pressing fingers,
framing the spot, adding significance.
Diligence.
The sharp, chipped medicine cabinet door creaks open.
Crusty accouterments reside inside.
Razor, rusty tweezers, safety pin.
Nail file.
Tap water attempts to cleanse the stainless steel.
The coarse grain is pressed against the skin.
Softly grinding.
Harder, more pain, white flakes.
Stop abruptly. A deep breath.
Resume.
Bite down. Grind harder, specks of blood.
Inspection.
It’s still there.
A thumb grazes the pointed tip.
The tip is pushed underneath the blemish.
A heavy breath bounces off the hard walls.
A wave of hurt banishes the demons.
A slight twist to peel the flesh.
Blood streams around the brow and down the cheek.
The offending piece sits on the point of the file.
A flick casts it into the toilet labeled Standard.
Flush.
A wad of toilet paper pushed into the wound.
Rinse the file and put it back to rest.
Bare feet exit.
Leaving a now sweat-stained, mosaic tile floor.
I have been a sieve bucket
Of shiny plastic parts,
Containing reasonable sands of logic, time and place-
Drastically mixed with the fluidity of natural human race,
And oddly and inconveniently, a subspace
For an awkwardly large heart.
Why has its energy, connective and warm,
Imploded my zone of comfort?
Its vibrations teemed my walls, exploited my woes
Which till now have composed me quite conveniently
In perfect shell form?
I have molded realities into peaks and castles,
Beautiful for a brief moment as life’s own art,
Yet crumbling too soon into shackles-
The sand’s plans (though well intentioned)
Never seem to properly span across
This aforementioned large heart?
I have ignored its pulsing cries of recognition,
Smashed its value to the depths of nothingness
To breach partitions of Universal fate’s recipe
For flow and season in forced perfection;
Yet muddied and worn, wretched and torn,
It still giggles and glows-
Defying all logical reason.
In anguish I have begged, dear heart, for disintegration!
Why do you lay idle in seeming nonchalance?
Why have you not flooded these holes of my soul
And flowed out to which creation compels me?
Will Love and light ever overflow my muddy plastic half?
I smugly wait and listen in demand of a response!
A few beats, a laugh.
You shine upon me for a quiet moment, wretchedly glistening.
Have I dared to set aside my fear and gain the courage to finally listen?
The message you have needed to convey
Resonates to me quietly,
In recognition of my soul’s ambition:
“Why don’t you merely give me away?”
A simple response, I answer in action (in giving to you, my true):
For I begin building my fate only from today;
Creating with purpose and satisfaction,
Eternally anew.
the girl on the shore.
my father, he died today
wordless, tearless grief
for the petered life
tendrils of sorrow that curls around your heart, most inconveniently
and the lingering dusting of sadness
constant
what is the measure
what is the worth
of a man's failings and his best efforts?
my father, he has crossed over
the door has closed, finally and forever
while we who live live the incessant demands
on this journey, first of grief
and then of dawning normalcy
till joy returns and laughter comes alongside
a breath, a shadow
so mere and too fleeting
i am the who the girl stands on the shore.
and the waves beckon with their endless and eternal song.
Would you sacrifice your own life to save your child?
Would you willingly take their place if they were sent to war?
There's no reason to make such an extreme sacrifice.
All you have to do is discontinue the use of your car.
"What are you crazy?" most would say, "Now you've gone too far.
Without my car I could never get through my day. I can't function without my car."
How sad that we all have become so dependant on this Convenience.
Meanwhile people are being slaughtered for oil as we drive our cars so complacent.
A Car Is A Convenience. It Is NOT A Necessity!
If you lost your car tomorrow you'd still survive, just somewhat inconveniently.
I've been known to start my day at midnight so I can get to work by 7:00 am.
It's one of the inconveniences of using public transportation.
If I wanted to I could buy 3 cars tomorrow and make life more Convenient for me,
but not for as long as people are dying soley to feed the oil industry's greed.
I know that I'll never make a difference because I'm among the minority.
Maybe after too many of our children get slaughtered for oil will others then assimilate me..
..but sadly I doubt that very highly.
Where are you when we need you Ghandi?
WEIGHT OF PROSPERITY
Just as water is sucked by plant,
The rich greed eats like an elephant
But inconveniently discharge like a cow.
Time of release so as to accommodate more is now.
Open the tight fist and let in the breath of the sun.
How do you expect to survive on the long run?
Give according to your level of financial consumption
Else you pass away due to financial constipation.
You lay excuses of not giving & complaints on the altar,
But without a giving heart you've got nothing to offer
rather suffer and face the stings of life proper.
Have you ever seen the rich beg or suffer?
And have tribulations for dinner and supper?
Just like breathing in and out, giving is exhaling
the amount of blessings that we're inhaling.
Heaven only blesses you to promote its kingdom
And how seeds sown germinates you can't fathom.
Blessings are not only to replenish our pockets
but flourish, nourish and polish many lives.
The proud fool boost, drowning under his own pool,
oblivious of his careless decline while his cup runs full.
He's intoxicated by affluence and drunk by pride,
he amasses crooked wealth, taking karma on a ride.
He bask in his savvy, intellect, opportunities & dexterity
But falls flat under the weary weight of prosperity.
Vick Manuel Poetry {VMP}
Copyright©December2022.
Crippled by guilt, yet not enough to make changes in that Instant
A person who to themselves are unrecognisable for Instance.
Losing sight of prior priorities, instead lethargic and Inconsistent.
Every day begins and every night ends feeling overwhelmingly Immunodeficient
Words of concern fall upon deafened ears, their statements are inconveniently
Insistent.
Parts of life you once loved and have not loved in a while, now you blankly perceive as Insufficient
I was inconveniently waiting
For your interest to show
But that never came
Should have kept my hope low
You were conveniently using
My time to your standards
As if I was a key
Hanging from your key lanyard
You only wanted me around
When you wanted my hands
You only needed me to be
Your convenient man
Conveniently it's not how this works
I'm not just a tool
So what do you take me for
Do I look like a fool
It's a good thing I saw
The ways your wheels worked
So it is very convenient
I saw not to hurt
You messed up thinking
You can conveniently trick me
You almost succeeded
The thought is so sickening
Although conveniently so
I am smarter than you
I saw it coming
And now we are through
Written 2-19-19
Their smiles, a treasure beyond measure,
And I’m grateful to be the source of their pleasure.
A comfort in their times of need,
Just to see their beautiful smiles, my heart likes to feed.
I’m not one for overt displays,
Inconveniently, my affection, I like to hide,
But know, dear friends, l’ll always be by your side.
Your presence alone makes me so happy,
And there isn’t a moment that’s not lovely,
Gratitude overflowing, you guys mean the world to me
,Your socky…