Best Obligated Poems
Dear men,
Explain to me why I stand alone.
Women are quick to uplift their father, sons, and brothers
Quick to maintain the home,
But when she needs support,
A woman stands alone
Explain to me why a woman has to stay in her “place”
Is there no room for a woman who is more than a pretty face?
Is there no room for a woman who can stimulate you intellectually
Or is it a woman’s only duty to please you sexually?
Explain to me why beating a woman gives you power
It gives you strength
Is masculinity so fragile
That you can’t maintain?
Without getting pleasure from pain
Explain to me why your brother goes scott free
When he takes advantage of a woman
While she is left to be ridiculed, blamed
As society throws dirt on her name
And she falls victim to her own demise.
I despise
The men who are so oblivious to their own privilege
That they think patriarchy is normal
Excuse my language
As I speak a bit informal
For you to understand
That you cannot catcall me as I walk down the street
It’s disgusting and demeaning
No I am not obligated to give you my number
Just because you ask and think you are getting a pass at me
No I don’t need you to hold the door open or carry my groceries
I am a strong, independent woman and your belief that I am weak
Is insulting
No I do not have to give you my body just because you bought me a drink
My body belongs to me
No matter what you tell yourself or think
Dear men,
You can no longer say that you are ignorant to my issues or my demands
Because I have clearly listed it for you to see.
Now only a real man
Will know, that women deserve equity
I need to hide
to drown my sorrow
to not feel obligated to stay a secret
the darkness to blanket my self inflicted pain
the thunder to stifle my screams
the lightening to set me on fire
I need it to rain...
I need to be revitalized and invigorated
to feel serene and tranquil
to be calm and collected
the darkness to bring me peace
the thunder to direct my mind
the lightening to guide my heart
I need it to rain...
I need to escape
to feel the ground at my feet
to feel the wind in my hair
the darkness to blind my captor
the thunder to clap in approval
the lightening to sever my shackles
I need it to rain...
I need to grow
to heighten my potential
to cultivate and thrive
the darkness to shelter my fraility
the thunder to ward off any imminent danger
the lightening to strike as my weapon
I need it to rain...
I need to be laid to rest
for someone to cry for me
for someone to long for me
the darkness to resemble my abscence
the thunder to echo my voice through your ears
the lightening to flash visions of me before your eyes
I need it to rain...
The thing I do to be nearer to him,
Commuting even in weather so grim.
The things I do to have more acceptance,
Cleaning his home for a much better chance.
The bus I go northbound in drives down memory lane,
As I reminisce about what he and I once were, in silent pain.
The bus I go eastbound with shows me where he's recently been,
As I daydream of a future wish I deeply hold within.
The commute may not always feel worth it,
But I want to show him I love him every bit.
The way home always fills me with sorrow,
But I always know there is another tomorrow.
The things I do for him, despite coming and going,
It is because it is him whom I will never stop loving.
The things I go through for him doesn't make him obligated,
But the least I hope for is my love is one day reciprocated.
Love, joy and peace
three virtues, over-simplified,
three fairly well-understood character traits
desired by friends, rejected by very few
who live in community with others.
Patience, goodness, kindness
Patience, I readily admit is my own Achilles’ heel.
Goodness and kindness seem to overlap.
And yet I have come to understand that they are world’s apart.
Being kind, I might hesitate to mention your blatant shortcomings,
those faults which would hurt your feelings and separate us.
Being good, I am obligated to make you aware
of wrongdoings that weaken your purpose and cause others
to mistrust and ignore you.
Goodness goes that extra mile.
Friends can tell friends the truth even if it hurts
in the hope of making a better friend.
Faithfulness, gentleness, self-control
the last of the nine qualities which folks consider
in developing spiritual relationships.
Gentleness coincides with kindness and goodness,
for there is a way in which the truth can be told
with the intent of a stronger friendship.
Gentleness I relate to humility, and if I
see you my friend headed for that lonely place of
no return, I feel duty-bound to share with you
any error I see that can be rectified.
Through self-control, I can rest at night knowing that
there are NO secrets between you and me that
I would regret if you died tomorrow
and I knew I had not told you the truth.
July 14, 2013
Contest: International Friendship Day, August 7th 2022
Sponsor: Beata Agustin
A few days past, at a stop sign
Eager to hit the road,
Waiting at the back of the line
And obligated to return by nine.
To my hypocrisy, this is an ode.
See, I hope for a world of giving
Where needs are always met
Where sins can find forgiving
And all are peacefully living
Though I’ve done something I regret.
For, as I pulled up to the street
I was approached by another,
Who wore no shoes upon his feet
I thought a thought of pure conceit,
How could I call you, brother?
He raised a soiled hand to wave
His weary eyes found mine
If I’d had cash I might’ve gave
But sit and talk, I wouldn’t brave.
Certainly, he’d be fine.
See, I hope for a world of giving
Where needs are always met
Where sins can find forgiving
And all are peacefully living
So how did I forget?
I hit the gas and sped away
And watched in the rear-view
Why I did it, I can’t convey
And in the mirror he faded away
A scene I’ll ever rue.
If anything within my mind
His form is amplified
Hauntingly, the thing I find,
within guilt’s prison, now confined
I nurse remorse unsatisfied.
See, I hope for a world of giving
Where needs are always met
Where sins can find forgiving
And all are peacefully living
So why did I forget?
Why did I forget?
4/20/15
Don't be so tortured, passion.
Don't be so metal rimmed in servitude
to all that's over the top and brimming with enigma's breath
Don't be the pump of blood adrenaline
on all the days one might have called
the moon out on her day of death.
Don't be so riddled, passion.
Don't be so all elusively inclined
to all that want a taste of you with grasping hands
Don't be the hide to seek tonight
in all this dark when even stars
grow quaint in the ignite of their demands.
Don't be so waning, passion.
Don't whisk the room in tenderness
past all the sense of first encounter's countenance
Don't rinse the obligated sigh
in love's delight and broken breath
when all we want is permanence.
Don't be so quiet, passion.
Don't leave us here with metal lips
to kiss desire in last good bye's and marriage vows
Don't rinse your hands of us tonight
as we live on adrenaline
and bated tongues immerse you even now...
Wake up a little earlier; another troubled night
But the remnants of pre-birthday make-up still do their job remarkably
Smile for the camera; these pictures are keepers, so realistically modelled for
Thank yous for unthoughtful offerings; why hurt feelings after all?
A dozen friends all come along; it's not their scene but they want to please me
Can't look over there, have to be the last to go through the door
They're trying so hard, all their love gathering on my windowsill
Some cards handmade with heartfelt affection, gifts so vague and cliched, more
roses than I could care for
And your dusty eyes still staring through them all from behind the frame
Complete the scene as my headstone
Couldn't have slept at all
Excitedly imagining what you were planning
Warm in your jacket you gave me to sleep in
Wouldn't lift or lower my foolish head
Jitters looking forward to you
Flash could've gone off but we wouldn't notice
Shroud me with your words, promises you could not keep
All the guests combined; a less than you companion
I wonder why we couldn't make it through?
And I'd never had to say goodbye 'til the day that I met you
All that I'd got for we pushed them all out
And I didn't miss them.
Didn't miss them.
Why are you still asking after me?
How do you still reach into my eyes
Before I turn away?
What happened to let us get like this and tell me
When can it end?
How is it I want it to stay?
Though there's a soft spot for you in my heart and you're
Slowly seeping out
Frozen as this face remains
Breaking when I'm forced to recall
I'm 18 and you're not here
But she passed on your message for me
Happy Birthday.
And in those obligated words it all crashes back
I'll keep all our secrets and ignore all the rest
The world we made and left to decay
Keeps me smiling for every wasted day.
Talking about life.
Not about how beautiful it is
or how blessed we are,
not about how crafty it is,
in jamming its cruel knife.
Simply talking about life.
Not about what a masterstroke it is
or how amazingly it is decimated,
not about our love or spite.
Just talking about life.
Should i be obligated
or bring about my own knife?
(06.01.2022)
Pull on the rope keep climbing
Apologies and compensation
are in order for the disorder
to the labeled minority
brothers mothers and daughters
caused by the distorters
corrupted system creates limitations
of your elegance therefore
frustration substituted freedom
blinded by the fact the opponents
were careless of the situations
of supressions to live on this land
hang on free from the sinking sand
created to drown us in our own bloods
Such deception and tragedy
Calls for the Correction from his majesty
deprivation of education
ignorance caused devastation
Lord help us to forgive so
we can all beg for his Forgiveness
Form:
out of everything that i’ve ever been told in my life
out of all the things that have been said to me that render me
obligated to shove a coy smile and an aloof
“thank you”
into the hands of whoever was speaking,
the heartfelt anecdotes
that have stuck with me the most
are the ones to have been branded and signed by you
the way you worded them
made me sound so much more valuable
than anything i’ve ever heard before
the focal point being
“you’re the kind of person someone leaves their entire life behind for”
and what bloomed
from the seeds
you planted in my garden
is something i thought i’d never lose
something i’d tried to protect so heavily
perhaps too heavily
but now i must ask, are you as comfortable with her in your arms are you claimed to be in mine?
do you miss her warmth on nights you’re alone in your own bed?
or is it mine that you sought after at 5am?
have you said things to her that even remotely resemble the things you’ve said to me?
or did you just copy and paste?
do you still expect me to believe that i meant anything different
to anything you’ve felt with her,
when your claim to be too busy in your head
actually meant too busy in her bed?
did you think i was being playful
when i told you that
i’m always aware
of when i am being deceived.
had you taken me seriously the first time
perhaps i wouldn’t be straining myself
trying not to completely push you away.
under any other circumstances
i would’ve had to remind you
that no matter what you do
and no matter what i say,
you will always be weak for me
but you already know that
and that is going to be the
end of us both.
~ r.a
Granitic testaments
sprout unstoppable
over the hill.
I know by heart
the graveyard.
Next to the wall
first maple on the left
past the bell tower,.
our stone stands,
room for one more.
Will my final twinkling
come quick, unexpectedly,
or slowly dressed in gray breaths
as mourning doves nest
in the eaves?
In any case, don’t feel obligated to
visit my engraved memory
under which I’m really not.
If you do, when you go
leave the gate firmly latched.
DIRE STRAITS was playing on the KITCHEN radio while ROSIE tried in vain to play along
with “Money for Nothing” on her HAMMOND organ. Her house always looked like a NUCLEAR
WASTE(land) with huge TID-BITS of food all over the counters and floor. Her husband
Roscoe was an inept VACUUM SALESMAN who went door to door wearing blue SPANDEX
BOXER SHORTS. His face was full of zits that looked like LUNAR CRATERS. Roscoe constantly
dabbed the zits with LISTERINE SOAKED TISSUE(s) as his MEDICINE of choice. It wasn’t
CONVENTION(al) but it lessened the PAIN somewhat.
FRIENDS and neighbors never invited the pair to any of their GIG(s) because they ate
like “cone heads” when they were in the WINE AND DINE mode. On rare occasions when
they did partake of a repast at someone’s house they left WORMHOLES in all the sandwiches.
They would just take a sample bite and put it back on the tray which always reviled the next
one in line.
The two of them are so socially ignorant that when it came time to thank the host for the
invitation, they felt it was a UFO situation. To them, this meant in their DRIFTING minds they
were Un F...ing Obligated to say thanks. I say all of this because knowing my brother and
sister-in-law as I do, I guarantee they will never experience any INSOMNIA or remorse over
their outrageous public behaviors.
* For entry in the Wacky Weekend Challenge
C onstruction of causes often concluding at an undesirable end
O menous clouds hover over head
N oticing some circumstantial happenstance not consistently NEGATIVE
S ystematically obligated to change results
E effect becomes the antidote
Q uickly questioning motives
U nderlining reasons
E existing in riddles
N othing is ignored when the end is near
C ontinuous uncontrolled events
E very action has them
S tate of mind, similar occurrences down the line
Cerulean sky in the quiet jungle was shook up by the unexpected tremor of a white and red bimotor plane. Larry, a tall, olive skin, green eyes, was the handsome pilot of the plane called Lara. Mechanical problems obligated Larry to an emergency landing.
In the crystalline river was a lady called Lara. She was camping for two days in the inhospitable surroundings. A heart break made her to take a time out from her hectic work schedule as general surgeon. Footsteps were heard in the dry leaves. Lara looked behind her, to see the impressing presence of Larry. She thought she was going to faint.
Larry felt a skip in her heart when he saw Lara. She was very identical to his deceased beloved. Without uttering a word, they felt love at first sight. Larry asked to Lara her name. They introduced themselves. Lara was packing to return to her home. Larry told Lara about the plane incident. She offered Larry to take him to his home. By coincidences of life, they live in the same urbanization. Before stepping out of the car, Larry gave to Lara a business card with his phone number. He was the CEO of an important tobacco exporting company. One week later, Lara took her cell phone and called Larry.
He invited her to a dinner to an elegant restaurant of the city. While they were dining, Larry told to Lara that he wants to know more about her. After concluding the dinner, they agreed to continue communicating by phone, letting that time decide their romantic future. Two years passed, when Larry invited Lara to dinner waiting a surprise to Lara. An engagement ring was inside of the rose bouquet. Larry asked Lara if she would marry him. Lara accepted the proposal. Wedding planification started. Fue most expected day for Larry and Lara arrived.
Larry was wearing a black tuxedo. The ivory bridal gown of Lara was stunning. Cala flowers and pink roses were part of the church decoration. Lara walked the aisle when Larry was waiting for her. After the religious ceremony, they were declared husband and wife. They left the church in a white limousine to the reception in a five star hotel. Blissful days were part of their married life until death separate them, ending a romance that began in a jungle.
The End
YOU ...
small, furry,
soft, warm, joyful,
sweet little creature,
came to me in a shadow ...
a time when my heart ran cold,
kicked far down the road by sorrow,
and lost as any hobo without a compass.
I had given hopes and dreams their pink slips ...
shown their sorry, deceitful little selves the door,
and told them where to put their accursed optimism.
Then YOU ...
you who had
been so neglected
and abused by others
of my race, others who had
seen kittens as something less
than themselves ... something for
their twisted amusement ... something
meant for the focus of their ire and hatred
and evil intent ... something at the mercy of the
dominion granted them by their so-called "acumen" ...
YOU, Sugar ...
had come with
such a simple name,
a name I had every intent
of changing to something far
more artistic, or worldly, or cute,
or extravagant, and yet as the time
passed those first days with me, as you
worked your gentle, loving, tender, amiable,
precious, good-natured way deep into my heart,
it was more-and-more evident that whoever had given
YOU your moniker,
had somehow, through
their sinister intent, STILL
been unmistakably affected
by your pure and precious spirit,
and had out-done my best intentions
and wholly self-lauded creativity, (as well
as trumped my attempts to attach a name to
you that others would feel obligated to soak with
feigned praise), by giving you a sweet epithet which,
in its absolute simplicity and virtue, was nothing less than
PERFECT.
YOU, my sweet
little Sugar, abide
the very essence of
your name, and you have
not only sweetened my days
beyond measure, but have saved
my life in ways that I'll never be able to
impart you. Who knew that the dark clouds
of my heart would be rent by such a fuzzy little
face of sunshine - that all I needed was a little bit of
YOU.
~ 2nd Place ~ in the "My Companion And Close Friend That Never Complains" Poetry Contest, Eve Roper, Judge & Sponsor.
~ 5th Place ~ in the "Just A Little Bit Of Sugar Poetry Contest", Debbie Guzzi, Judge & Sponsor.