Best Lifecare Poems
persecution is starting to grow
from coast to coast
persecution even comes from those
you care about the most
husbands wives sisters and brothers too
can sometimes even persecute you
persecution is dished out to us
like food on a plate
but we can call on the Lord it's never too late
take to the cross all your troubles
your burdens and your pain
for he will restore you and make you whole again
he will refresh you and make you anew
he will be with you no matter what you
have to go through
persecution is something we may not always understand
but there is comfort knowing
God is always with us
holding us in the palm of his hand
if your'e feeling persecuted or it feels like something is trying to make you fall
just hand it over to the Lord
for he's the one who will take care of it all.
2 Thessalonians 2: 3-12
We thank you Lord
that when persecution comes our way
you help us and strengthen us
in every single way
there is no problem to big or too small
whateevr our situation you help us face them all,
thank you for you Love
thank you that you care
thank you that your'e always there Amen.
I lift my eyes up to the mountain where does my help come from?
my help comes from the Lord, who made heaven and earth. psalm 121 : 1-2
Why do you use sex as a control weapon?
You pretend to not know that we need it.
The monster must be alleviated, released.
We get sex when we get a promotion,
or our birthday or when we buy you a gift.
What greed is that?
Can you even have a real ******? Or faking it?
We know you have one when you do our best friend!
You ignore that in all of history we have owned you!
And now you are free, free to use it to control us.
And when we cheat, you feel so betrayed.
Anger that we were stupid enough
To commit to you for life,
When we didn’t know that you were so ungiving,
To care about our sexual needs.
You expect us to control it, are you stupid? Naïve?
Men are molesting children: their own children, because of women like you!
I know, because most of the women I have dated were abused by their own fathers.
The best we could hope for is that they only cheat with another adult.
Why are these women staying with men that abused their own daughters?
This has got to STOP.
These lies must STOP.
Cutting our foreskin does not stop us from masturbating, or needing!
Grahame Crackers are useless. Other men, Craigslist, Bathrooms, YMCA!
Men are becoming gay, roleplaying the fantasies of their oppressed mothers.
Spank me daddy! Whose your daddy? Make me do it!
We men are having a hard time transitioning into the freedoms you have!
Look at history or the rural Muslims killing their wives or the Africans cutting off the ********.
This issue is tearing humanity apart!
All the divorces, are because of you not servicing your man.
He would never hurt you or leave you if he was satisfied sexually!
This means you have to exercise and stay fit for him to be proud of his mate!
So if you gain weight and not care for his pride: You are the abuser!
Milk your husbands, or they will find someone else too.
All because you are so self-centered, lazy, and greedy for power.
So whose your daddy? I AM,
Form:
Oh dad, you’re great, you saved me in crisis.
You make me able to enjoy juicy healthy spices.
When I fall ill you run to secure me in hands,
And introduced danger of Life and paid off prices.
You provided me knowledge and education for easy rises.
How can I forget you my success are your donation?
Otherwise who cares a child in this modern fashion?
People can’t afford human growth they claim expenses,
You were honest and industrious my mum has mention,
Your time was hard or mine, life has different sizes.
I think sometimes how olds has afforded a big family?
When mum was full time mum for children mainly,
And provided full opportunity to grow everyone’s taste.
Why do we modernise fail to respect and struggle shamely?
Divorce and separation isn’t wise for kind namely prizes.
I care how do you afford gifts and celebrates births and fests?
You never disappointed anybody and care for all lists.
I am boring and selfness, can’t afford a bunch of flowers,
Dad’s day comes and goes but feeling lives in the rests.
Time plays a part and love struggles with different Hisses.
Some things change and some things won’t.
Some people care and others just don’t.
The situation I’m in unmistakably changed,
for one I was close to has now been estranged.
I was told when younger to think on my own,
but now it's not something the teachers condone.
One thing that during my time I have found,
is that circular logic, it goes round and round.
So as long as my feet are firm on the ground,
I’m in need of nothing that is so unsound.
With all that I’ve learned, I head off all alone,
leaving all censorship behind me at home.
Started out slow, not a care in the world.
But as I move on and through time I am hurled,
tempo goes up, beats per minute increase.
Soon I can’t take it, I need it to cease.
Not able to stop, no not in the least,
I trudge on like a machine, well oiled and greased.
My actions like a snake, they slowly unwind,
and start on a hunt pursuing my mind.
The snake goes about deploying the bait,
then, patient the predator, lies in wait.
About temptation, one should not linger,
but I’ve taken the bait, hook line and sinker.
Wasting no time, the snake lashes out,
the forked tongue and fangs on a heart bound route.
I listen to the venom course through my veins,
as it makes it’s way on up to my brain.
Once it arrives and inherits its reign,
is when I’ll be left with nothing but pain.
I don't feel the way I’ve ever felt,
inside, my head stings just like a welt.
Abrasion against the strings of my heart,
strums out a tune that's miles from art.
I’ve gone and done something oh so wrong,
for I’m unable to sing, or hum along.
Now in the calm that’s the eye of the storm,
I must find out how to return to the norm.
Opening doors devoid of locks,
I stumble upon a strange looking box.
On top of this thing that I’ve found amongst rocks,
is a line that reads “Opportunity Knocks.”
Now standing before this jack-in-the-box
I turn the crank like a hand on our clocks,
The childhood jingle comes to stop,
as something symbolic shoots out with a pop.
Though am I clueless? No, not so much,
I’m not handicapped, I don't need a crutch.
Ill fated though, it’s a no-leaf clover.
I know what this means: I’ve got to start over.
(Continued from part one.)
Afire not his thoughts, the Devil sees,
He soars and roars, in his physical might.
His bears’ hug, his warmth, could melt you;
Into joys and tears, in willing submission.
Treat him not, to your portions of love.
He grows cold, is lost in erotic rage.
Wiggle not mermaid, in bouts of passion,
The dough you kneed, may turn love to hate.
Dare not the wile witches’ craft;
Lest he banish you to the earth’s folds,
To burn in hate, love and desire,
Forever and ever, in eternal penance.
Spurn not his love for the unknown,
With frivolous, eyewash camouflage.
He watches behind the scenes,
Your tremors in the curves and the lips;
You innocent, blooming seductress,
Holding the Mega-staff, letting reptiles sing:
You bore the man, the crowned lord of vice.
Rip him, Independence, to his natural doom.
Haven’t you learnt, you Hollywood menace?
Ever seen Javed Jaffery the Tellywood, Bollywood
Lollywood and Mollywood a few dozen like you?
Tent walk dove-eyed, bumps to the moon.
Kanjiwaram, the Casanova Frenchie,
Break dance in airs to the Eiffel Tower.
Red herring you to the Spanish bulls.
Joy ride Rolls on BMW’s track.
Con the Germans and the Japs.
You, wonder android, generations ahead.
(Forget the Merc-E, TELCO ties,
Or their Sumo-ing the Japanese pride.)
Take care you fool, Govinda could snare,
Rap tap the Seghal to his toe’s.
Golden Eye the double O’s latest dream.
Kung-fu Steven’s at his own game.
Anti-gravity NASA, with mental fields.
Stealth fly you out, from the Pentagon.
Biotech you back into American laps,
Genetically engineered, Gene cultured, wreck.
Brain-virus Microsoft, in config-trees,
Space walk you to the final frontiers in enterprise.
Dance away the foxes of your clan.
Ultra culture, the real London breed.
In knacks of, how to wink and blink.
Lifting eyebrows? Take care you oaf,
Run you goat! and don’t turn your head.
He is the cool cat, really looking his English best.
Flee, before the gambler, he is still there,
Smirnoff you to the Hustler`s care.
Toss you around, under Playboy’s thumb.
Floor you with his catwalk fun.
Cradle you, to the American roost;
Chickening out, not now KFC hen.
He is “She selling sea shells on the sea shore.”
In wizard glee, those Colgate teeth his real hope.
(To be continues in part three.)
My emotions you wrung and raped
and you were doing this and that with all including with yourself
that I cannot decsribe and feel
I was left numb and dead by your whiff and whaff
life has a way of making you feel done
and on me you have already one.
Now this heart piece ,a song and an art is so sure
that she had her eyes sighing over me so long before
she is so delicate and so sensuous that she make the world go round
as you stop on the bend of the road and vow to get me back
no way ,and its a dead end and you already turned over the bend.
You look irate and sad and peeved at what pushed you on your way
think hard and get it straight and get it fine it was your amorous sway
it's hard to beleive that you did not care and doled out this sad fare
and now are back asking for more like a mantle piece on a cheap penthouse store
and eyeing with disdain this dove that is nothing but all love.
So stop! and see that road and that bend
which you pointed to me days back as the end
take it that and return, keep the relationship with the ashes and the urn
it is good that I could see you and know you are well
but you did not even care if I was in heaven or hell.
Headed down this road
Sit back, relax, in chill mood
I've been down this road
Never rush, you will fall
I'd change it all if I could
My scars attest to every fall
A lesson is a lesson learned
Open mindedness ended in youth
A testament I've learned
The Road of life is to thrive
Survive is more to the truth
Yesterday causes my Faith to thrive
God, thanks for every blessed day
Oh I believe but not in church
Unseen blessings with every day
Don't care what the next does
My views were deferent since birth
I want happiness as everyone does
Bust my ass to earn a dollar less
Who's truly blessed, the rich or poor
Can't say we don't know who has
less
I let go reality for my humanity
For I'll finish no higher I'm sure
I'll care an educate to save my
humanity
I let go of the things which carry a
price
If happiness came with a price it be
owned
My Soul like happiness is worth it's
price
Sell your Soul for what ever guilty
pleasure
You sold an stole something you
never owned
I'd rather live with less than live of
ease an pleasure
Who am I, a good question and one I frequently ask,
Since retiring, I feel like I have removed a mask,
Born in the 1950’s, a babyboomer I guess is what I am,
For the first few years, I was my parent’s “poor wee lamb”
At the age of fifteen years I had a major surgery,
I then decided that it was a nurse I truly wanted to be,
As an Infection Control nurse for over 37 years,
This brought me many rewards and just as many tears.
I met my husband in a course while working on Resusi-anne,
He was a Paramedic, good looking, tall and tan.
I’m loud and talkative while he was shy and quiet,
He ate everything and stayed thin while I could use a diet.
Together we’ve worked in medicine throughout our married life,
The constant conflicting shift work often added a little strife,
But I’ve been a faithful wife for more than 28 years,
Having two children that look like us, just check the mirrors.
I like to think I’m funny and can tell a pretty good joke,
I enjoy the occasional alcoholic drink but I no longer smoke.
I went back to university to get my degree when I was forty,
Now I walk 3 miles each day, I’ve really become quite sporty
I no longer lecture across Canada and the United States,
Instead I spend my time with those entering the pearly gates,
I am no longer an active nurse only a palliative care volunteer,
Providing loving care to those people that I find so dear.
So in summary I think my life is probably considered quit boring,
I like to travel, sing and swim and I do a lot of snoring,
I am no longer a daughter, but I am still a mother and a wife,
And sometimes I try to be a poet, that’s me, that’s my perfect life!
Written July 20, 2011
For “Getting To Know You” contest
Won 6th Place
dumb dumb dumb why we do these dumb dumb dumb things, why do we not care or at least point
out when dumb, dumb, dumb action are carried out
Are we to afraid that are dumb dumb dumb lives will be affected do we not understand how
guilty we are to when acts of cruelty are committed do we even care or understand that
were being judged constantly by the angels above.
Are we so dumb dumb dumb that we only help those we feel are worth helping or being cared
about. Is this the life my children and grandchildren will learn to grow in love in when
there is no love. What a dumb dumb dumb choice that would be to have children in a world
were dumb people rule the planet.
Form:
I’ll have to take my word habits with me
For it just won’t just let me be.
“Don’t be a writer,” they say, “You’ll starve!”
But I don’t care if they toss, cuss, or barf.
They’re searching for my prose now;
Even disgruntled lungs must bow.
Suddenly, I see my poem stare;
Walk back to me with glare.
My book of prose was hidden
In a wallet of despair, forgotten.
Now it climbs down from the shelf
And tiptoes to me like an elf!
Shall I leave my word habits behind?
“You should have been a lawyer,” they reply.
Has the bench lost its residual touch?
Not that I care about the name that much.
Cocktail and smiles exchange faces,
The music walks into the tiniest of spaces,
A river of mirth riots in the air
Whereupon my pen climbs out of its lair.
So I take up my word habits again
It doesn’t matter whether wise or insane
For my pen has a voice of its own
Though some larynx got hers blown.
At home, when I’m not putting my feet up—
Watching TV or giving junior another wallop,
I rinse my thoughts in a little poetry or prose
And count them like beads from the dozen to gross.
I was born as you all were
I am all the same that
All are in some way or the other
I used to love the things that you loved
I was the same branch of the that tree
And was fed with the same roots
As you, you and you were
But
But I was a step ahead
Or they were some step back
The difference that was made
A cloud overhead
Shared some tears with me
And all the non living things
That the creation has made
The way was not meant to be
The way I am now
The way that I was ought to be
I don’t want it anyhow
The race is falling and let it be
For I do not care
A burden that the world slipped in my pockets
Hence never should I bear
I not care about the one
Left and were about to leave
I distrust the kind of men we are
And hate the way we find
I live a life along with me
And never care who’s beside
For they have a selfness around there self
And to my eyes, somehow they hide
I am an end, with out the other
Hanging by a rope
I am a shadow of my self
Living as a misanthrope
Form:
A birthday isn’t just a day I was born in
It is the celebration and ecstasy for staying alive another year
Of all the birthdays
I came to look at today as a forgotten recall
Of all the birthdays
I disliked this one
And reviewed my life
Since the start
And regretted the things I wanted to do
And delayed them
But I was willing to do them
With compassion and enthusiasm as ever
But, my parents and specially my dad
Never keeps his word
And that with an disregardful trait
Maybe he has gotten old
Maybe he is starting to pay less attention
And care less to examine thoughts
Maybe, but I wished and wanted and desired
He was younger, so that he could live longer
Because we came afterwards
He has already given all the care and love to the previous kids
Who are now adults and can depend on themselves
How it pleases and sets me happy
When he at least plays with us
That’s what I want
A real dad
Who smiles and speaks appropriate jokes
Who encourages me to follow my dreams
And not let them sink with the days
Who helps me develop my talents
Who really and really understand me
And my feelings
Who can love me and show it
Who can promise me and stick to his promise
No matter what
That’s what I want
Is that too much to ask?
I want dad and mom
To play with me football
And basketball
And many other games
I want to share qualities and moments
With them
But can they at least speak to me
Without making a joke out of my words?
That’s what I want
And I don’t want to blow the 100 lit candles on my birthday
I want to live and experience things I never saw
I want to do stuff I never thought of doing
Play instruments and strengthen talents
Achieve things I never dreamt of achieving
Scoring goals, walking extended paths
So that when I’m about to die
I die with satisfaction to say
I lived a life
It seems , lately, we care so much about vanity,
It's enough to make you lose all your sanity,
worrying about clothes that we wear,
if they have a spot, stain or a tare,
Does my hair look right today,
or is static making it all fly away,
these shoes look great, but they are so tight,
well, I suppose, I can get through the night,
Is my makeup applied the right way,
if it is not, what will people say,
the colors we wear, must be right for the season,
will someone please, tell me the reason,
the truth is, were all just bones and skin,
wheather were fat, skinny or thin,
in a pair of sweats and tee shirt,
or in sparkly nylons and ruffely skirts,
we should care about being the best we can be,
should we achieve that,
than our souls are set free.
THE WORLD KEEPS ON CHANGING
THE WORLD KEEPS ON CHANGING
NONE STOP PLANNING
STILL JUMPING AND SHOWING
WE KEEP ON GETTING UP AND DOING
MAKING IT THROUGH THE DAY WINNING
OR ARE WE SETTING HERE LOOSING
WE’VE GONE FROM WHITE
TO BLACK AS NIGHT
WOMEN OR STILL FIGHTING
WHO’S WRONG TRYING TO GET OUR LEFT OUT
QUIETING OUR PAIN AND STILL HIDING THE RIGHT
SO WHEN YOU GO FROM WHITE TO BLACK
AND HIT MAN KIND LIKE THAT
THE WORLD IS FULL OF COLORS
NO MATTER WHO YOU ARE WHATS A COLOR
TO ME WE ARE EACH A STAR
JUST TAKE THE TIME TO BELIEVE
AFTER ALL YOU ARE SOMEONE LIKE ME
RED, WHITE, AND JUST A LITTLE BIT BLUE
YET YOU AS PEOPLE STILL KNOWING WHAT TO DO
ARE WE WORKING TOGETHER
OR ARE WE LOOSING ONE ANOTHER
AS WE TRY TO GET UP HIGH IN TO THIS WORLD
WE WERE BORN BY JUST A GIRL
WHY IS THEIR A SUCH THING CALL WAR
FIGHTING HARD TO GET THERE IN A TRUCK NOT CAR
YET I CARE THE NEW KIDS IN A TAXI MAMA VAN
YES WE ARE LIKE ANIMALS SOME WHAT WILD
BUT DON’T YOU LOVE OUR SMILES
IT’S TIME TO COME HOME TO SWEET HOME
STOP HURTING AND BEING ALONE
YES YOU CAN MAKE IT HARD ON YOUR OWN
YOU NEED TO CARE ABOUT THE UNKNOWN
GOING WAY OUT INTO SPACE
DO WE STILL HAVE PLANS FOR THE HUMAN RACE
I’M NOT GOING TO REACH OUT AND STOP
I’M HERE TO STAND TALL AND TAKE THAT VERY SMALL SHOT
THE WORLD KEEPS ON CHANGING
I’M STILL HERE JUST PLANNING
BY: SHAWN JONES 03/13/09
Oh river of tears
Waters of sorrow, hate, & fears
Would you care to have another of my tears?
Wouldn’t you just love to collect another tear of depression?
To add to the many you’ve collected from America’s oppression
Do your waters hunger for the hearts’ pain?
A thirst to obtain flooded hopes & sodden wishes to claim
Would your tides rise from gathering tears containing rage?
Does the tear taste better the older the age?
Oh river of tears
Waters of sorrow, hate, & fears
Would you care to have another of my tears?
Does the tear of fervent emotion calm the current?
Stabilize wicked waters coursing through the land.
Do you travel far and wide with the sole purpose to expand?
Oh river of tears
Waters of sorrow, hate, & fears
Would you care to have another of my tears?
Not from this eye will tears multiply
Nor from the other eye will I cry
If I shed a tear to your river
May it be a tear of tenderness
With an intent of bliss
center finger raised for I’ll leave you with this
So float on by river
Just float on by
………………………….
…………………………..