Best Lifechild Poems
After all of those times, they don't understand.
The devil in them just wanna kill you man.
Cypress Hill was right. The devil won't let,
Go. He always fights an unfair fight. Because
A child of God got the juice now. He walks,
In the spirit realm and has this protective,
Film stronger than the deteriorated ozone,
Layer. The devil is a fake wannabe player.
He'll pistol whip you, and you'll get up, and,
Fight more, you'll open the door and bullets,
Fly at you and you dodge all of them dude.
That fake punk devil will run away and cry,
And say that crazy fool didn't die. What's,
Up with him? We'll ,you got the juice now.
You study the Word of God. You are just,
Odd. You know his game. You were on my,
Team. He's wondering:
Why can't I get him back to being,
A fiend? Why can't I get him back to selling,
Dope? Why can't I get him back to thinking,
He has no hope? Why can't I get him back,
Into kissing butts of folks? What?
What? This dude is crazy. He's making,
Me tired and lazy. I had that juice. Man,
I used to be the head man under God,
But I just had to be Him. That dude got,
Power. This is some of the things that,
The devil will say to you when you when,
You live the life that's true. He'll be sad,
And blue. All you have to do is continue,
To walk in the spirit, and your very presence,
He'll fear it. Read the Word of God,
And apply it. You got the juice now.
You a child of God. You got the juice,
Even when you may fall short, the devil
Will be out of sort. You will play him out
Like a sport. YOU GOT THE JUICE NOW.
SO TO NO SATANIC SPIRIT BOW.
1-10-11
Just a few hours old and her outlook grim,
Not fully developed her little limbs.
A premature child snatched from her dead mothers womb,
Caused by a drug overdose the doctors presume.
This poor baby child, blind and alone,
Makes you really wonder why this seed was ever sewn.
The mother was a lady of the night with a habit to serve,
Now the baby is born with problems she does not deserve.
Drugs and disease have devastated this child,
Because her mother chose a lifestyle wicked and wild.
The child probably wont make it, least those are the odds,
The doctor said pending a miracle straight from our God.
As hours tick by the little child loses the fight,
And another small soul vanishes into the night.
This story I made up with more truths than of lies,
And the only question I ask, is it really worth it and why?
Sweet were those childhood times
No worries no fear, just a carefree life
Mother’s lap seemed the treasure of world
Rejoicing each day with heartfelt joy
Happiness needed no reason, it was inside
Talking the heart away while spreading smile
No material possessions to bring joy
Family and friends formed best of life
No pretension, simply being self all times
Harmless heart giving even stranger a smile
All in the face, keeping no ill feelings inside
Lovely phase better than riches of the world
Sing hosanna aloud without rhythms inside
Every time on the cloud nine with a wider smile
Childhood answers the true meaning of joy
Confidence sparkles whatever be the times
No complaints or curse how dark gets world
Live and let give adds more rejoice to life
No rat race spoiling the true essence of life
Innocence of child nurtures divine times
Wishes in hearts once to crawl back in life
As to embrace the color of seamless joy
Open a child’s eye to see the lost world
Find happiness not in things but soul inside
What a life was it the pretty childhood times!
No scare or fear of losing the track of life
Sky is enough to live not the riches of world
Optimistic heart to unfold the worries inside
Reasons not searched for to simply smile
Rapture beauty escalates the treasured joy
No retake given in this wonderful whirling world
Grow up but leave not the child breathing inside
All emotions form an integral part of life
Haste not while wearing costume of lively smile
Celebrate the season of childhood with joy
Once in life humanity blessed with those times
Treasure life like jewels with a brightening smile
Learn from world but not let go the child inside
Joy is here and now…bound it not in time
Once all I wanted was to.....
Grow up,
Fend for myself,
Have a job I chose,
A job I loved;
Now I am not so sure....
That I want the responsibility,
The power;
I am starting to wish that...
I had not wished my childhood away,
I had not squandered it,
I could stay young forever;
But I don't think the child in me......
Ever has to leave,
Or grow up forever;
As I grow up....
The black and white world is bolder,
The world of grays I knew as a child is fading,
The soft grays of myths and legends are turning to the harsh black and white
Everyone believes in,
The black and white world is solid,
And can be proven,
The gray is little more than cotton fluff in a gale;
My childhood is disappearing before my eyes....
I will miss the freedom,
But I will never lose the child in me.
It was an old brown bottle with a cork stuck in top
That I saw half buried in the sand
On a remote stretch of beach near my Pacific Northwest home
That I dug out with a stick and my hand.
I pulled out the cork and removed a note from inside
With handwriting that was old and faded;
A letter that was written over fifty years ago
Nineteen Fifty Eight on the top it was dated.
“I am writing this note and casting it out to sea
For no one in particular but mostly for me.
I am with child but with no husband by my side;
For months it has grown in me and every night I have cried.
My family sent me here to Washington state,
I’ve ruined their reputation so this is my fate.
I will do my best to raise my child right,
But it’s a future I face with terror and fright.
Should you find this bottle and read my little tale
Please say a prayer for me;
I could use your support so that I don’t fail
From the other side of the sea.”
As it turns out the bottle didn’t travel far,
In fact it was caste from this very shore.
Fifty two years later I recognize the handwriting -
I’ve seen it so many times before.
It’s the same handwriting on notes I took to school
And on every birthday card I saved;
It’s the same handwriting from the woman I called Mother
And last year buried in a grave.
I never knew the story of how I came to be
And, frankly, never thought to ask;
I was just a bastard child of a wonderful mother
Whose story I just found in this flask.
Every morning, an overview of death’s tombstones is perched outside my window taunting
and haunting me with the scent of a hollow kiss. The worst case is not this thing called death
but the abuse of love that my parents fill into my bruised soul, a child I am no more but I
can still remember the time I cried as one and cried and cried until the face of a frustrated
mother came to ease my pain, and her own unease mind. Disorder clouded my mind but as
a child I did not fully understand what these emotions where, for is a mother not there to
ease her Childs pains, and is a mother not there also to ease her children’s emotional pains.
I can vouch that my physical pain was eased but spiritually my emotions ran wild like a pack
of wolfs searching for the hunter who wielded with him the ax grief. I respect my parents
like any child should, and I disobey them like any child shouldn’t, but what I feel towards
them is different than disobedient and anger. It feels as if loath itself is creeping up into my
heart then into my head like the words of a woman who clouds all sense of reasoning. I
laugh but I cannot truly feel happy even when they do try to appease me in the way I want
to be appeased or so they do think for we never truly speak. I love them; I loathe them, for
I am an outcast even amongst outcasts for they say they know pain but not all pain is
physical for trauma has kissed and slept inside my heart but has it done the same in theirs
also. I shall never know for trauma has chained us into the comfort of its hellish bed and
sealed our lips like everything that is true in life. I am loath now, I am pain now, I am evil
incarnate, but I am an evil whose pain and loath seek nothing but the comfort of peace.
Every morning I wake, and an overview of death’s tombstones is perched outside my
window taunting and haunting me with the scent of a hollow kiss and I wonder when is the
day that I will fall prey under the temptation of its kiss. Death is literally around the corner
for I live by a cemetery’s condo.
* Just a story but i have put SOME of my feelings and my own life experience in there.
Just fifteen years old, pregnant and all alone,
A child herself but in a family way as she checks the coin slot in another pay phone.
Homeless, hungry, all alone and terribly scared,
She just wanders the streets totally unprepared.
Her folks told her she was an absolute disgrace,
And how were they going to look their neighbors in the face?
With tears in her eyes and a broken heart she left not wanting to cause her parents pain,
A few clothes packed she heads out in the pouring rain.
She had been victimized and raped by someone her parents held dear,
She figured they would take his side and the only thing left was for her to just disappear.
Quickly she found out just how hard the streets would become,
And out here if you’re to make it you learn fast not to act dumb.
Shoplifting and panhandling was the only way this young girl had to survive,
And she didn’t know what to do cause in a short two months the baby would arrive.
But her luck was about to change with a young couple she was about to meet,
They were searching for someone like her and they were wealthy and sweet.
In exchange for her child they promised her, her education and a chance at a brand new start,
She knew she could never support the child and this was the way they should part.
On the day of the delivery the baby was taken away,
Not even knowing if it was a boy or a girl they were separated that day.
The couple honored their agreement and the young girl became an educated woman with wealth of her own,
And she uses that wealth to help others in dire needs returning to others the kindness she was shown.
Note: Isn't this a better alternative than abortion?
A puppy once played with a
child
A child once played with his
friend
One day a child was killed
One day a killed dad left a child
crying
Is there much to say with a
soul living in ny.
The child is gone.
The tree is here.
The village windows lit.
Laughter’s left. Joy’s remiss.
Mistletoe brings no kiss.
A sad sight, alone at night,
not one to bring true cheer.
The child is gone.
The Christmas tree is here.
The village’s windows lit.
Beneath the tree the gifts are wrapped
mere tokens, reflect the tears.
The child within, the child without.
The scarcity is clear.
No amount of Christmas lights can quell
the loneliness I feel.
Today I saw the problem
Which causes me much despair
Selfishness and stupidity, fear I saw
And, sadly, addiction standing right there
Another victim clinging to the lead weight
Lifesaver so many people will choose
While their neglected child watches a parent drown
In pot, pills, sex, stealing, booze
No fault they own for wrongs their own
To admit wrong would require an internal look
And the child bears brunt to the endless hunt
And falls asleep with the unread book
Today I saw the problem and its name is adult
Who is selfish and poisoned from inside
Why do we sell our parenting for drugs?
How do we rediscover our pride?
I GIVE MY LIFE ,
TO CHANGE THE PAST
I GIVE MY LIFE ,
TO FREE MY CHILD FROM PAIN
I GIVE MY LIFE ,
FOR PEOPLE TO LOVE ME FOR WHO I AM
I GIVE MY LIFE ,
FOR PEOPLE NOT TO JUDGE ME
I GIVE MY LIFE ,
TO DO WHAT IS BEST FOR MY CHILD
I GIVE MY LIFE ,
TO KEEP PEOPLE HAPPY
I GIVE MY LIFE ,
SO PEOPLE WILL STOP TALKING ABOUT OTHERS
I GIVE MY LIFE ,
TO GIVE OTHERS WHAT THEY WANT FOR ME
I GIVE MY LIFE ,
TO JUST TO KEEPOTHERS FROM JUDGEING ME
I GIVE MY LIFE ,
JUST TO KEEP EVERYONE HAPPY
I GIVE MY LIFE ,
JUST TO KEEP THE SUN SHINING
I GIVE MY LIFE ,
TO MY CHILD SO SHE FEELS NO PAIN IN HER LIFE
I GIVE MY LIFE ,
TO KEEP THE WORLD HAPPY
I want to fade away
or orb to times
when things were easy
where life made sense
I want to be that carefree child again,
that child who ran through the field
and only saw the beauty of life
That child that was protected
that had a safe haven
a child whose shoulders
were not worn down by things
out of my control
I need to smile again
I need to be that carefree child again...
It's hard to believe how life can change;
As you and your love create a chain.
A chain so strong, but fragile in size;
And feeling the love from the one inside.
As it grows from the love we share;
It's hard to believe that a life is there.
So I don't understand how parents can kill;
A child you created, your blood that you spill.
A child so precious, so please be aware;
You can never get it back, so take great care.
So if you think there's no hope one day or night;
Please think twice about taking a life.
To think this action even crosses your mind;
Please get some help, it will all be fine.
O child smile, speak, why afraid,
Utter a single word and wisdom might be laid in motion
But listen; don’t listen to these words,
Everyone listens to or sprout out of their untold tongue
But see what they fail to see,
Like me, you, and us burning under this dusk tree.
But do listen and do
Hear the voice of violence hiding behind the words of romance,
Hear the screams, and hate, before we lose our self.
And reappear and rethought that peace is just a dream,
Which no man ever dreams of but told injustice reigns supreme.
Really, it’s like being told sour cream is sweeter than caramel under our burnt tongue.
It’s just false, but where’s the truth hiding in this day in age,
Maybe it just pulsating its last breath before death.
O child smile, speak, why afraid,
Don’t get discourage by their words,
Speak; smile and wisdom might be laid in motion.
The young child stares into the blue sky above him,
his mind creates creatures in the clouds.
Warm images of lively creatures in the world above,
as his life goes on the images begin to shroud.
The child continues on the journey everyone must face,
he stops to look at a bright green leaf on an oak tree.
As he marvels at the strength of the leaf holding on,
it drops off the oak and falls down free.
The child spots a lone deer in the distance,
enjoying the lush grass before it.
A wolf leaps from the bushes near the creature,
in minutes the lush green grass turns a dark red.
As the child proceeds, the road begins to fog,
the child hears laughter in the distance.
pausing for a moment to finally hear the voice of another.
The laughing turns to screams then disapears from existance.
Watching all the events around him,
the child regrets the choice that he has made.
he is the one that decided to go through this journey alone,
he has no one to save him, no one to give him aid.
The child stares into the sky above him,
his mind shows the falling leaf and the wolf beginning to attack.
Hoping for an escape from this vision,
all he is able to see is black.