The Twilight Zone is my home
A place where liars and thieves roam
It has been for 11 years
Nothing but my tears
My husband is all good with his brother a liar and thief
And for me there is no relief
Until this year the Twilight Zone I will leave
And leave my husband the only one to grieve
For his brother is the one that made the Twilight Zone
Never again will I roam
Far far away I will be
And let my husband enjoy the Twilight Zone
...ignored because it’s not dollars and cents,
not status…beyond such things he is blind.”
His wife just shrugged, “But what can you do, Ron?
As people say, there are all kinds of kinds.”
Ron just sighed, and walked up to his front porch,
he grabbed the rocker and watched his kids play,
It hurt to think his brother a stranger,
but guessed sometimes things just worked out that way.
How to "deserve" -- how to be "worthy".
How to feel equal to -- how to compete,
partially or apparently successfully so.
How to function well enough "to serve."
How not to be unsteady, how to be rigid;
how to stand, to walk stiffly upright among them.
How to sense their suspicious direct stares
and their sidelong furtive glances.
How to live, to exist, to recognize their aversion to
this repugnant, repellant "otherness", this difference:
and to show them that you recognize, you see,
that you will never -- never! -- be, like them,
"one among the many": a "brother", a "member".
Never! Never, ever.
S-Salmon patties were daddy’s special dish;
A-as kids, we would beg him to make fish knish.
L-Last week, my brother arrived on appeal
M-midst my adventure to fix this same meal.
O-Oddly enough the croquettes turned out grand;
N-not to brag, for bro had given a hand.
P-Plainly peeved, my youngest turned up his nose
A-and so, my brother a wager proposed.
T-Try one, eat it all, I’ll give you a prize -
T-those new earphones on which you've got your eyes.
I- It worked though a trick accomplished with guile,
E-easing one down with ketchup brought a smile.
S-Seconds, his choice, made the meal/deal worthwhile.
Ye stars! which are the poetry of heaven!
~Lord Byron
The Earth is a flirt saying come visit me,
I’ll share my blue skies, I’ll share my blue seas
though I am quite simple in the cosmos of things,
Saturn my sister has beautiful rings
and Pluto my brother, a mere planetoid,
to be part of your beauty would jump through the void~
Your beauty is majestic beyond any doubt
with glorious galaxies plethora throughout,
while constellations like runes write passage of time
my pitiful men try to decipher the rhyme
to discover the physics when art holds the key~
some things are meant to remain mystery.
A friend of mine.
Has passed away.
In a lonely place.
With no one there.
Went to bed fell asleep
Never more to rise to eat.
She had a secret no one knew.
And laid in her bed body battered and bruised.
She laid there just sleeping.
And nobody knew.
That her life had just ended.
Without any rules.
The secret she had is,
what curdled her veins.
The dangers it brought,
and all of the pain.
Regardless of this it’s someone I knew.
A mother’s daughter.
And a daddy’s boo.
So, remember next time you pass judgement in haste.
It’s somebody’s daughter.
And somebody’s son.
A sister a brother a grandchild too.
An auntie an uncle.
Once full of love.
Regrets there are many who nobody sees.
If only she asked,
I knew I would be.
There for the anger and there for the hurt.
Help her to heal it.
And end the distrust.
But now that’s all over.
And never no more.
No laughter.
No singing.
No fear of unknown.
So, rest little darling your pain has all done.
And no one can hurt in the place you have gone.
I wish I could see you just one more time.
Remember your face with those big laughter lines.
Father a clouded northern sky;
mother a troubled southern sea;
brother a smoky western fire;
sister a muddy eastern field.
Seeds of fire sleep in the field;
seeds of sky sleep in the fire;
seeds of grain sleep in the sea;
seeds of rain sleep in the sky.
Quarter the wheel to make it go;
quarter the earth to make it roll
under your feet like a moving stair;
climb so high you'll reach nowhere.
Four is two is three is one;
quarter the city to make it done;
quarter the shining to make the track;
quarter the darkness to bring it back
-------------------------------------------------
My chest is heavy, my soul overflowing, I need to let it out, isolation my only refuge for no eyes I care to see, no words to hear, no questions asked. Thus I must do alone..
Jesus sees hears, only He understands..bow my head, My God my Savior, praise HIM I must do, He has saved my life, my brothers He heard in their darkest times.
My brothers His loving arm reached down to their empty hardened souls, my Savior wiped their eyes, my brothers accepted HIS love, my tears no more I can hold back, I sink down to my knees, as my heart finally empties out, Jesus you have saved my brothers lives, Our Mom, Jesus wipe away her happy tears, for You have given her the best gift ever.
I raise my eyes to you Jesus in thanksgiving, for you’ve given my brother a roof over his head, be his heart as he gets his life back on track, may he too see your loving mercy..embraced in your ever loving Soul.
Jesus, you and only you know each tear that falls, no words needed, I exhale and start out this day you’ve given to us…
This is a story of wee mental Blair minty Wilson,
he was a father a brother a nephew an uncle a cousin and one true friend,
he was loved by everyone that he did meet,
His mental health hid from all to see,
And the world was cruel to what he was going through,
On the outside he was full of joy, and he was so proud of his baby boy,
no matter to where he went, he took his dog jack walks through hills and glens,
He was some kid that was so kind, on the outside he smiled,
But had loads on his mind,
No matter where minty went,
he was a funny lad and loved to the end,
we will keep him close to our hearts,
and he will never ever part,
Such a shame you could not speak, to how you felt so we could not see,
wish you opened your heart, and we knew you would never have to part,
but we hope your with your mum and your grandparents love,
till we meet again r i p our friend,
in the church they bellowed out kodaline tune,
that touched our hearts too, and at the grave we said goodbye,
with a tear in our eye,
but we know you will be there, and hear us all in our prayer,
till we meet once again, sleep tight minty till we meet again,
A sonnet by this arrant bard, an other,
whose sole half-brother, a real piece of work,
and single parent (mother like no other!),
together were no warm nor loving perk.
In her heart, mother disowned me in life.
My younger half-brother begrudged my genius,
whilst being a rival who sowed seeds of strife,
in mother, against me (how very jealous
was he?). But I, an outright bard, complete
and sheer, make their dysfunction a rhymed affair
to exorcise these memories: defeat
this duo by whom I'm “an other” in despair!?
But if I could return my estranged mother,
I still wouldn't—and call my half-sibling, “Brother!”
Dancing singing windchimes
Motorcycle engine in the distance
Breezy day warmed by immensely hot sun
I sit barefooted on my porch, gulping vitamin D
One dog lies curled at my feet
A regal shepherd great Dane mix with an oversized head
His adopted brother, a frenzied retriever, walks over chewing something
Could be walnut, plastic, rubber, toy, match, band-aid or glass
Screeching siren sound advances
Neither dog moves
City dogs
Living a country life
Used to city sounds
Sonnet
From far, back I have come
To their surprise, I brought a dove,
Happy they were, everyone at home,
And a nest they weaved for her, what a love!
My brother, a smith, made her a golden ring.
Love and compassion led her out of bond
To the sky she soars up — her song to sing.
Between us no frictional touch, but fine fond;
In her crops-pasturing afoot she walks,
While our eyes tendering on her steps, lest treading a hook
For we all feel unease to a cause she crawls,
And our heart pounds to the eagle nasty look;
Always she roosts in her nest to avoid the rain,
And when get wet, in the sun she stands to drain.
©® Muhammad Abdulhamid Kumo
April, 2024
#SpringHearted
#AlaSuperQuote
about colors
So pale the rosebush on the verandah
is it because the night is so long and cold
the flowers look like the red purses
little girls have a few pennies in
kept hidden for her brother, a few
pennies to buy sweets for
I have lost the colors on my computer
it is gray, the spirit will not soar
like it didn't when I wanted to be a parachutist
I will visit the computer man
to bring colors back, even if it is artificial
and exude no aroma
the little girl sits at the back of the garage
furtively eat candy, but feel guilty
she should have shared the sweets
with her annoying brother, after all, she is
his big sister
In her hair, a red Gansho
Young Red was searching Wolf Forest, but got lost
She felt someone staring at her with blue eyes of frost.
It was a weird bird whose feathers were amazingly pink.
There are two of us, said his brother, a wren name of Wink.
He is Fink, I am Wink, and we guard this forest from human beings.
a rooster-like creature made Red wonder what she was seeing.
this cannot be Wolf Forest, she said, completely turned around.
The birds began to titter and trill, one promptly fell upside down.
We are guardians of Fowl Forest, you are completely mad, Wink said.
Fink gave his brother a swift feathery high five, then yelled out for Ned.
Ned was the weird goofy bird with the striped socks, she found out.
They chased her away, across a field, leaving her at a round-about.
We all have those moments. Moments in life when you know things will never be the same for you. For me that moment was seeing Fred's black Pumas on the stairs after he had passed away. The empty shoes gave me a flash back. I saw him standing at the kitchenette counter in his scrubs and the same all-black althetic sneakers preparing my morning coffee and vitamins. His light blue scrubs unable to hide his hulking shoulders and chest , yet loose on his flat stomach. In his stead i'd find a freshly pressed coffee, vitamins and water bottle in a row on the counter. A true care taker of a care taker. At one time, these little acts of service became a welcomed routine. Now... the same shoes sat empty and lonely on the steps toward where we used to live. Which was now just an empty room. Fredy'd never have a chance to Be. A chance to better himself. A chance at Love again , which I know he had a lot of to give. The empty shoes filled my heart with sadness. The thought that his large heart no longer beat in his chest was almost too much for me to bear. Who could ever fill this man's shoes? As a Brother, a Son, Grandson and Caretaker, as a Lover or as a Best Friend.
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