Best Regretted Poems
In those primitive times of long, long ago
when behemoths wandered the land
when mankind was wicked and ruthless and raw
and battles were ever at hand.
An unruly unrest reigned on the earth
and rebellion was wild and free
for God turned His back on the people he made
and regretted what they came to be.
On the blackest of nights, on the darkest of days
fallen angels were cast from the skies
then entering into the daughter's of men
a new race began from on high.
So the Nephilim roamed, those aliens of old
a people of lusts and desires
warriors all, great giants so tall
reigning with blood lust and fire.
A ruthless tribe, with dark hearts inside
in chaos, they spread misery and hate
but in due time, God's patience was tried
hence, the Great Flood would seal their fate.
In a humbler man, a new chapter began
for in Noah, God renewed all mankind
with a rainbow so bright, and a heavenly light
filled with hope and new promises to find.
Written on 1/10/2018
The depth of our love has an infinite range,
as I reminisce on the day that we met.
I will always remember your deepest voice,
a mellifluous sound I will never forget.
You caught me off guard, while working my flight.
In a three piece suit, a tall Adonis you were,
as you bowed your head to enter the door,
I had no idea what next would occur.
When I served you white wine, I asked if you sing.
You smiled and replied “only in the shower”.
It was late at night, and the flight was long. . .
You came to the bar and we spoke for an hour.
You shared with me your love of surfing the waves,
and working at the shipyard at Pearl Harbor.
We both felt the chemistry of love’s sparks fly,
and I could barely contain my joyful ardor.
The drone of the engines made it hard to hear
so we spoke with a nearness that captured delight.
Your scent took my breath in a heavenly way,
and we hated to see the end of our flight.
You took my hotel number and promised to call.
You kept that promise when home you returned.
Soon our whirlwind romance began to aspire.
In my heart, in my thoughts, that flame always burned.
It was not long until this isle I called home,
and I have never regretted a moment with you.
Life with you quite a challenge, but oh. . . so divine.
You still make sparks fly in sweet things that you do!
8-28-16
*Note: We have been married for 34 years now
Sunday night Apr. 8, 2001:
The night I slept in relative peace
foolishly, naively believing and
falsely assuming that all was well…
But then the morning after:
Though not the worst morning after
still the numbing, paralyzing morning after
the morning his voice seemed far away
as if it were an eerie, drug induced dream
the morning he regretted to inform...
(For a precious few weeks
one hibernates, wrapped up safely
in that protective cocoon
of sweet denial and disbelief)
No, the worst morning after came
after all had been said and done
after basking in the glow of sympathy
after the admiration of my iron will
after all returned to daily routines
after I found myself alone again…
Oh no, the worst morning after
was the morning I startled awake
to find that monster standing there
that monster who pointed at me
and told me the bitter, brutal truth
the awful and merciful truth of God
the truth that you are really gone
and are never, ever coming back…
She was the best pal we ever had,
Thinking about her still makes me sad,
Quietly wagging her tail for her food,
Silently waiting like a friend so good,
She survived death scare two times that year,
We prayed for her healing, God did hear,
She knew whom to bark at, scared them bad,
She was the best pal we ever had,
Following us all around to be petted,
Love she did not lack, nor once we regretted,
When she fell sick, she had us cuddling her,
Trips to the doctor, we went juggling her,
Ten long years, she stayed with us happy,
Never once did she become snappy,
In times of sorrow, she made us glad,
She was the best pal we ever had.
08/30/18
We all have our good and bad days
Because they depend on our ways
Growing up around bad environments
And a screwed up system by governments
My family not loving me
Discriminating against me
Telling me that they regretted my birth
And me not wanting to be on this earth
I became depressed
And dealt with a lot of stress
Never taught me right from wrong
Dealing with these memories for so long
I always learned things the hard way
From always wanting to do it my way
My past always haunting me
From when my half brother raped me
And then abusing me
When I got older I told my family
But they didn’t believe me
Then going to school and being talked about
And not cared about
Because I was different
And not belligerent
My self esteem grew low
And when it came to sex it was hard to say no
Because I would do anything to feel loved
Known as a jump-off around the neighborhood
And no one really knew or understood
That I was I struggling with my life
Overcoming suicide attempts
And anxiety attacks
Coping with the way things are
Because my hope grew far
While days seemed to never get better
I tried to change for the better
I’ve learned to just cope with everything
Because in my life it’s a constant struggle
ME, MY MUSE AND ME!
ME
What I am about to say and do,
Would be inconceivable by more
Than a few,
How could I dare,
Its isn’t fair,
For it is Christmas season,
Do I have a valid reason
I hear you say,
Please hear me out I pray!
My muse has been cheating,
Spying on me and meeting,
With another website,
At first I cried,
Then got angry, would put this right!
Called my muse in to chat,
Boutique clothes, expensive red hat,
A Rolls Royce parked outside
Ostentatiously no intention
Of wanting to hide,
Jewellery and attitude,
Don’t get me wrong
Have always felt much gratitude,
But this was never anticipated
And by me sorely regretted,
And totally unexpected,
So with no emotion,
Said,you are fired!
MY MUSE
What said my muse,
Is it that time of the month,
Have you any excuse!
You must be mad,
And clearly, your
Husband won’t be glad,
For he will be roped in,
Where will you both begin,
You’ll be wiped off soup,
And lose this poetry group,
Don’t make this mistake,
Are you calling me fake,
I will not be fired
Nearly 2 years since you hired
Me, tread carefully,
I will take you to task,
For I wear many a mask!
ME
Are you threatning me,
You disreputable chump
Behind my back,
You dishonourable punk,
You did all this,
For a moonlight kiss,
Someone phoned me and
Warned me that you do
These rounds and cheated
On many a poet,
Don’t deny it, I have proof
I know it,
Be gone you miserable thief,
Your stay here should
Have been briefer
With a huff and a pout,
My muse walked out,
And disappeared
Without a trace!
Goodness me,
No sense of decency,
I now have a vacancy!
I run uphill for some way,
mostly on an easy pavement,
and partially on a jarring dirt track,
I resentfully enjoy a route
against which I am free to struggle.
The path gradually starts to flatten out,
I breathe heavily with relief,
strain not regretted.
I think of the houses I run past,
or of the squatter camps
too painful to see.
I think of the towering slum,
once a magnificent tyrant,
now usurped and left for dead
by a tyrant of the restless new world
not twenty miles to the north.
I reach the halfway point and turn.
I run downhill, back the way I came,
my legs work with a lesser rebellion,
the morning becomes brighter
and the evening less spiteful.
I enter the last straight line,
more or less flat
for a couple of hundred yards,
I stretch my legs and open my stride,
my muscles burn, achingly free,
for a moment I cannot be caught.
Still, running into the morning
and away from the night,
my ankles remain idiotically shackled
and for some reason I cannot outrun
Johannesburg's hard earned pain.
13th November 2018
Divorce
Let me start by giving you a small anecdote
About a husband and wife at the divorce court
Ranting and Raving till the judge ponders why
Screaming “I hate you “, An obvious lie.
The wife began yelling, I’m so glad that I left
The husband then sneered “Oh I’m terribly bereft”
The counsellor knew this wasn’t a different case
Just two people trapped in love’s crazy rat race
The love there was evident though cleverly disguised
Refusing to see things through the other one’s eyes
“His temperament is terrible and he’s really unkind”
He snarled at judge, “She’s out of her mind
Before I proceed to grant your decree
You have to be more specific with me
Was each moment unbearable these seven years?
The husband shook his head and the wife was in tears
Was your journey together horrible from the start,
Arranged Marriage perhaps, not matters of the heart?
They sheepishly mumbled “It was our very own plan”
Back then she said, “I loved this man”
The counsellor sighed, “ then I must request you
To give it six months before you are through”
You have to live together before you part ways
I’m really not sure we’d survive six days!
Well coexist you must and peacefully too,
Though the task ahead seems arduous for you.
“For an hour each day, put your phones aside”
“No TV for him too”, the wife cheerfully cried
You may sit in silence or do a household task
But It must be done together, is that too much to ask?
Separation is assured when you return to this place
I will ask for nothing more before I settle your case
They went away pensive about the situation at hand
Live together they must at the judge’s command
At the end of six months they walked back to court
Well you‘ve certainly come back on a different note.
Our disagreements back then seemed larger than life
The counsellor laughed, what’s a marriage without strife?
The judge then wondered where he would be now
If he’d tried in his own life to stay wedded somehow
Every day he regretted his decision to separate
It’s a sad revelation when you realise “It’s too late.
She sat near a pool of brownish waters.
Perplexed by her own reflection.
The wind tender on her hair,
Tossing it eastward.
Drying her imbrued face,
From days of sobbing,
Leaving dull lines that stretched
From her pale eyes,down her haggard lion.
She never wore a smile
As brilliant as the sun.
They only burn,her.
Reawaking her tears
From their subtle base
Beneath her eyes.
She considered them,a tragic representation of her
life.
She decked her face with cowardice.
Never regretted,nor did she skedaddle from it,
The lies she once told herself.
They were now,dreams she woke up to,now and
then.
Expressionless,she sat,
On cold dead grass.
They sent chills to her bones.
Her mind hovering through the empty space,
That is her her own schema.
And the world that lies beneath her bruised nose,
Covered in blood and fear,
The stench of terror,
Quite familiar to her.
They were like marks on her back.
They stayed with you for a life time.
Misery was something she owned.
They burnt in her dark brown eyes.
You could see their talons lashing restlessly,
Drawing those who cared for a scare.
The tears that flooded her garment
Jog the memory of her own consciousness,
That she still did feel something.
Something painfully passionate.
Something,realer than her fragile image.
Those tears were reminders
Reminding her,that she,can still think.
Think of events that stole
All the life she knew,
Will ever know.
She stood at the edge of destitute,
As hard as it was,
It brought her solace.
Her hopes raise at the east,
Settling west with the sun.
She seeks no remedy,
But an audience.
An audience at least.
****DEDICATING THIS ONE TO
POETDESTROYER.SHE IS THE REASON WHY IM
HERE.ITS BEING A WHILE THOUGH...MISS IT ON
HERE***
If passion speaks beyond self-centered will,
if stones may cry aloud because a man
keeps silence, or if whispers wash the mind
as storms in springtime will refresh the earth,
then it is poetry that feeds our hearts.
At birth it is a soft caress that would
protect and nourish thought in gentleness,
to draw from deep within, a song that prose
could not express, a sigh devoid of art
that art alone may sing,
the singer but an instrument,
and that of conscious awe.
All this, and still demanding to be heard,
for if it were not so, we would not know
or speak of poets; wars might then
be just regretted or dismissed as lost
for lack of strategy; arms would
be taken up for power alone
and men would then survive
in shallow grief, insouciant within,
a tired state of lethargy, where no one
ever cares.
The powers of heavenly places may be thanked,
for muses dwell upon Olympus, not
within the hell of circumstance, or haste,
or juvenile romance--
for there is power indeed when insight travels
where the lofty giants led
and left upon their pages, majesty,
and bled, and wept, and gave us beauty
that device alone could only try to emulate,
and fade away.
~
Two hands in folds of shoddy cotton,
in clouds of cheap champagne and cigarette smoke.
My ringing ears
Echoing the television murmurs,
but it’s the same news on a broken record,
broken record horrors.
Now the clock— It’s snickering, a thief, consuming time and stealing
the 217 kisses, the 32 chocolate milkshakes shared
in his old Porsche,
the 3 ice creams in December and the 12 shivers that followed,
the 56 morning coffees,
the 12 months of moon cycles—
I counted them one by one, refusing to let time
pass
him
by.
I remember with him
the 314 soft embraces, the 17 drops of brandy
that dripped down our chins, the 39 words
yelled then regretted, the 3 meteor showers
he slept through.
Waiting room. I try to peel the hospital scent from his skin,
but it’s a lonely phantom refusing to depart.
The summer cologne lingers its dollar’s worth on his scalp,
quickly fading, masked by Lysol, white walls, sickness.
Feverish. He closes his eyes, heart monitor beeping to a constant,
the peaks on a swift descent.
Because as time chews away
the 3 teeth bumps, the 14 letters,
19 skin tracings, 2 chalk outlines,
the 3-syllable, 8-letter words,
and the 100 times
I confirmed reality
(as he cried, in vain,
for release),
I’m forgetting already
the smell of his hair, the precise pores
and number of freckles on his cheeks.
Now. I turn car key, start engine, breathe broken- record breaths.
I’ll pretend it’s all a formula I’m confirming,
because Fate never meant us to be.
I am discovering truths:
we’re just awkward children in this adult world,
aware of waning time, unprepared, longing for youth.
His Gods have plugged us both in like variables,
and we’re no longer oblivious to the outcome,
because I’ll wrestle with Love, plead with Death,
beg and bargain with Time,
and still,
I’ll drive on.
The Camelot That Was Not
By Elton Camp
Arthur was a king both wise and good.
He always did exactly what he should.
Sat with his knights at a table round.
Because equality would then abound.
Manly, virtuous, kind, tall
These they were, one and all.
And Arthur always kept near
The beautiful queen Guinevere.
His knights were in shining armor clad.
The hearts of his subjects they made glad.
Not one of them would ever delay
When a fearsome dragon was to slay.
Right at Arthur’s side
Old Merlin did reside.
Another wizard as powerful as he
The whole world would never see.
And what is that castle so fair?
It must be Camelot over there.
Any enemy would have to fail
Those steep, high walls to scale.
But of this idealized man and place,
Sadly, British history holds no trace.
Geoffery of Monmouth is to blame
For making this most bogus claim.
Back when little history I knew,
I blindly assumed it to be true.
Prince Valiant confirmed it all
From the time when I was small.
The sad fact I had missed:
Arthur did not ever exist.
I regretted that I misunderstood.
Arthur never lived, but he should.
Suppose the sun stop shining
And the clouds get dark
When there will be not of the courage to face life head-on
Who will be there to give me a shelter?
Shield me from the thunder
Make me a bed of roses
Melt my fears
My safety guaranteed
Where I find no greed.
Maybe things will happen
Those we term the unexpected
We handle them as unexpected
Hoping lies not perfected
And love Remain Respected
And ours never regretted
See some rejected
Communication neglected
Their presence disconnected
Their memories permanently deleted
But their hearts Pulse the same bits
Always in a REMEMBER STATE
They cannot RESET.
When you hear me knocking
The same heart pulse clocking
“Just smile open wide your arms
Let me connect again to the throbs
Allow me to state "I always loved you"
And always true to you
And that I am sorry, I am sorry
The best I can afford
For I’d rather die a perfect past with you
Than hope for a new future without you”
I am a man, be the woman to man me.
My flesh yearns for your touch
As my soul cries out your
name
In my heart, I miss you
Although my mind wants to
send you away...
Our honest words hurt
Is it to late to take them back?
I wanted to hear you say
"I love you"
But you regretted that fact.
I dedicated songs to you
Because I felt that the lyrics
were true
But now when I hear the songs
on the radio
I feel like a fool for missing you
Wondering if your foolish
enough to miss me too.
As my weary eyes give in
I become entranced.
A day completed now
and so I give it back a glance.
Every chance I'm given,
I break it all apart
I break it all apart
I'll break this all apart.
I can be your monster or your hero
it depends upon my heart.
If I was all that smart
I would break myself apart.
We've lived so gawky from the start
and handled stones in this glass cage,
these last days are fast paced
please hurry up and wait.
Don't believe a word I tell you;
I'm a liar, just kidding.
I love dichotomies and irony
and riddles in the city.
Hey, I once escaped a mind trap
and regretted it...
because a mind trap only benefits
if you simply stay embedded in it.
So instead of salvation,
I live in a glass prison, waiting
for the walls to crack like windows
and have what I'm hiding from
come and take me.