Best On Writing And Wordsday Poems
There's an issue with people trying to deal with their sexuality and gender. It's been
like that since the day one man had pretended to be a woman and one woman had pretended to
be a guy. It seems that he or she is either gay, straight, bisexual, or a transsexual, and
their parents are trying to help their children deal with their sexual identity and sexual
orientation. These people would've dealt with this type of identity crisis without the
help of their friends and families. It's bad enough that one man is being trapped in a
female's body and one woman is being trapped in a male's body, as well. Everybody's
talking about it, even on the news. What other people should do is to deal with the fact
that their friends are gay, bi, or transgendered. And even if these people are going
through an identity crisis day in and day out, they need help and everybody's acceptance.
And for assistance and whatnot, he and/or she (who are gay, bisexual, and/or
transgendered) can always go to one of those LGBT (Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, and/or
Transgender) centers for group therapy and stuff. The ones who aren't confused about their
sexual identity should also be for gay rights. But if these people continue with trying to
deal with who they are and what their sexual orientation is, there's no telling what bad
thing might happen next.
I listened as Ms. Azalea Lee spoke to me
This is what she had to say…
I sat with the door opened catching the noon day breeze
As a package was delivered by the postman
That stood there requesting my signature.
I hope its something good the postman said with a grin
Oh he may have been good to others, I said much to my chagrin
This package I had no desire to receive
Today or any day but somehow I knew it was the remains of him
This was supposed to be a joyous day
Expecting a newborn kinsman this eve and it being
The day of my daughter's birth -- I must state
How ironic this day has come in to play
As I received his backward ashes today
I never wanted to hold him in my arms again
Never thought I'd behold his form this way
My once tormentor, feigned lover, never true friend -- hey
No one could say I did not try
Held out the olive branch time after time…
He would just keep trying to burn that branch and my arm
right along with it. Even had my mama fooled
By his falsified charms so bad that it seemed
She did not care that it was I -- which he continually tried to harm...
Darn, that certainly should come to me as no surprise
As she often did much the same too me as a child
She, picking and pinching with her trying words
To get a grief stricken tear from this numbed heart of mine
How absurd! Then Ms. Azalea Lee revealed some things to me that
I dare not write for indeed they were enough to horrify...
During that time, I whispered not a peep, for I thought to my self
How could she ever sleep, with all of those emotions balled up inside...
How strange it was that after the age of 15 she had not truly cried…
At least until the day her father died and then she went numb again…
feeling nothing yet still managed to smile
My, how I wished I could share with her, this joy of mine….
How is it that she takes all in stride?
Without a drop of hate inside… As I bid her goodbye,
The answer came, she is mine and
She possesses a strong will to survive.
I now look back through time at Ms. Azalea Lee
Keeping her stories as they sure had an effect on me…
I woke as usual this morning
The first thought of my day being
What words am I going to use today?
Will they be words of hate?
Will they be words of love?
Will they be unkind words,laced with cruelty?
Alternatively,words conveyed with laughter and joy.
My next thought,as always,is
With whom will I share these words?
Friends and family,
Strangers I pass on the street
Throughout my days journey
Perhaps even those I work with.
Or how about the person on the phone
Yes!even that annoying telemarketer
Who always seems to call at the worst of times?
No matter what time of day that is.
Even words I put down in print can affect
How my day goes.
One just never knows the impact
Words play in our daily lives
Until perhaps it is too late
To take them back.
Your a plageristic son of a dog!
I once said to this guy.
Every thought that comes out of your head,
Is nothing but a lie.
The day that you decided,
To try and steal my words.
That's the day you changed from a man,
Into a pile of turds.
If that was your feeble attempt at humour?
Then sir I am not amused.
You signed your name under my words.
I feel violated and abused.
My first and foremost instinct,
Is to punch you in the head.
But I have decided it's better,
Wishing you were dead.
When you said you didn't mean it,
Well then that is just a shame.
Because when you signed the bottom,
You misspelled my name.
Speechless as I sat
the chill that called this day
Dec. the 3rd 2008
a day that found me as I sat,
with a bit of an attitude
as I awoke body sore
hands swollen and red
findings of an attitude
no smile today as before
not sure what holds it back
just can't bring one around
can't find it today as before
I shake it off best I can
first my head then my hands
yet my body is still sore
6:30 am being the best I can
a head the day holds unknown
yet I couldn't sleep or just lay there
I got up trying to sees the day
and knowing the day holds unknown
here I sat with shattered words
trying to finds myself today
hoping to smile and just be
head full with shattered words.
Im alone and caged I will not strive the day
I'm trapped in the water unable to swim I will
not survive the day again
I'm hiding as prey should I will not survive
the day once more
I am lost a lot but I will survive the day today
(The poem that I thought obscene was not found on Soup. This was hurriedly
written as a response to a writer I had been reading, but who posted the most vile
trash about his own wife. It was meant as a rebuke to him. I had intended to leave this only a day or two, but the reads indicate that it needs to stay.
To the Author of an Obscene Poem
By Elton Camp
To readers, you gave warning clear:
To this, my post, do not come near.
Yet, I read it all just the same,
So, you sure aren’t to blame.
“Graphic” and “Obscene”
Not the same do they mean.
Thoughts like yours are a blight
And so are best kept out of sight.
There we learn how you hate your wife
Though she once was the love of your life.
Your poem is a disgraceful mess
Littered with cursing and distress
Perhaps it was merely meant
As a means for you to vent.
Such thing you write and hide away.
Never should it see the light of day.
The day you may come to rue
When your wife decides to sue.
It would well you behoove
Such libel to be able to prove.
What we put online so free
Is right there for all to see.
It takes on a life of its own
And may never truly be gone.
It could be that your own child
May come to see how you reviled.
And in these days it is not a sure bet
That employers won’t check the Internet.
So that consequences you won’t meet,
I urge you now to punch up “Delete.”
The longer online it does stay,
The harder to make it go away.
You’ve asked me, why do you cry
I reply, only the sky knows this,
and you say, you require the blue
of day to fade
I reply, it began at dawn
each day my lead wears down
when fingers are scribbling with a stub
will there be anything left of me to write?
or will the lead have seeped into my veins
and my finger take over
marking the lines
of time
and now I know, it doesn’t matter
as the sun curls
to warm the surface of the earth
the wind bounces off the stratosphere
singing along the equator
of love, a sea of
lobsters crawls across the dermis
of the planet,
life will go on
with or without my pencil
my poem is evermore
This day
The day that I’ve waited forever
This day
The day that I’ve missed ever
This day
The main day of all
This day
The day I say I do!