the voices are overwhelming
I can hear so many conversations in my head a few good mostly not
all pointing to one subject
her
they talk about her life choices
making mentions of her checkered past.
Just another junkie, might as well throw her in the trash.
I'll say this line I just heard is classic
she is like problems you stuff in basements and attics.
An addict in an attic well that's a new play on words.
one voice cuts through all these conversations with three simple words
She has God.
He has seen every wrong and every wrong made right.
He walked with her in darkness and still brought her back to light.
He has watched every moment when she thought she was alone.
The nights she cried herself to sleep, in the car she called her home.
He seen all these things and still sees her for who she is.
All voices now stopped.
Thank you to the Father
my Savior, my Rock.
Isaiah 55:8-9
"For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways,” declares the LORD. “As the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways and my thoughts than your thoughts."
Tying the knot,
I thought sowed my soul.
Making me a better man,
But I discovered the lack.
Learning how to respect one another.
Loving another at the cost of loving myself.
Unrequited pain, a new form of loneliness.
The body exposing it through night terrors.
Ending with a big bang.
I rebirthed being alone.
In darkness He did his magic.
Cementing my non-negotiables.
Yet again I stand with another.
Uncomfortable comfortable.
Both of us with a checkered past.
Trepidation with hands on the wheel.
Wiser with a touch of grayscale.
A new kind of love we embark.
Both of us have probed for faults.
Scared of what seems perfection.
I stand with her having shaking hands.
And a fearful smile from my past.
I look over to see her response.
For once trepidation turns to tranquil.
She reads me like a book.
Caring where no one has before.
Nurturing my every wince.
The chips are landing perfectly.
I met a quirky bird the other day,
Who has a checkered past, they say.
Many a nest she left in shambles,
As she continues her rambles.
Takes what she needs,
Leaves others to bleed.
A bolt hole might be the place for her,
Could be away for some place to stay,
Or run away.
A home, a nest of all her own.
Where she can store her stuff when done and ready to roam.
A place to retreat and be alone.
To atone or find an excuse for shredding a nest.
Putting relationships to the test.
Managing her quietude without all the rest:
Compromise,
Communication,
Clashes,
That help make nests some of the best.
Failure to see the value in these will continue with failures for all the rest.
Quirky birds will fill in nests,
But never count on them to stay,
They tend to ramble and fly away.
Walk on the glass path they fill,
But always remember," the bird has a checkered past,
Relationships don't last"!
A pattern like a checkerboard
Is one that I adore,
On clothing, bedding, even rugs
Or tiles upon a floor.
Though stripes and dots and plaid are nice,
I’m partial to the squares,
Especially in black and white;
Not one design compares.
Those little boxes neatly wrought
To me are unsurpassed,
Except, of course, for someone
Who must hide a checkered past.
~~A chess match is an opaque mirror into societal clash.
Slippery rules and taboos playing upon a checkered past.
Balcony kings and queens glaring down on the lower caste.
Ramparts buttressing crooked flanks, serfs in the murky front.
Devouring dirt, taking the brunt of many skirmishes to come.
Senators riding sky horses, gliding so high above the fight.
Neighing nonsense -fanning their brand of hellfire lies.
Speedy-tongued bishops blitzing on the slanted slide.
In our faces, showcasing only the wrongs of our lives.
Black and white toppling ungracefully to the side.
Flimsy smiles and flint handshakes without dialogue.
Another fiery stalemate on the blazing horizon.
Sipped one Pabst
Sobriety lapsed
Resolve collapsed
Resurrected
His checkered past
His fiancé aghast
Once more, outcast
Long legs travel faster
Incendiary post:
Checkered past,
Knocked up.
Eager ears!
Tell me more!
Yodel across the valley...
Soap box
Platform.
Lick more stamps!
In conclusion, gossip
Travels lickety-split!
4/6/2018
You got two friends,
and they’re both dear to your heart
But they don’t much care for each other
Before you met either of them,
they already knew one another
Their checkered past had a dark history,
bitter chapters of a contentious backstory
But, you knew about none of that,
only knew that you loved them both
And the rift between them didn’t change that fact
When two locomotive emotions
are moving on a collision course,
don’t get caught standing near the third rail —
Don’t get too close
Friendly electrocution is still a fatal execution
And at the funeral,
those two friends will have crying eyes
Each blaming the other
as the reason why you died
The many eyes of Qiniso’s love-life
There was the one with the soft eyes
Speaking to a peaceful existence
The one with the dark eyes
Which reflected her ill-treatment at the hands of the meanest of men
She had her dagger out to exact revenge on ALL men
An unapologetic misandrist
The one with piercing eyes
Threatening to do the unthinkable
If the circumstances so dictated
Darting eyes
Unsure of which love-path to follow
Loving eyes
Casting warmth on his soul
Fearful eyes
Unsure of how long this would last
Guilty eyes
Speaking to a checkered past
Blank eyes
Reflecting an empty soul
Devoid of hope
Wide, bright eyes, speaking to unparalleled intelligence
Innocent eyes
Untainted by the evils of this world
Beady eyes,
Screaming lechery and malice
As someone once said: the eyes are the windows of the soul
If things were different it wouldn't be the same;
A rightous sense of peace and no place found for blame.
It’s hard to imagine types of things could ever change;
So many broken pieces unable to arrange.
A checkered past, that was riddled with guilt.
Dried up a flower, too late to watch wilt.
Without action by a master of disguise;
There may never have been a you and an I...
A closed mind kept shut and hidden inside.
Slowly but surely a love left and died.
This cloak such concealed truth to not remove.
A childish boy with something not to prove.
Many days came late several dollars same short.
If we took back the past, we'd regret much, much more.
In light of the present, we reflect upon the past.
Left with no time to dwell, oh well, it's all over fast.
Into action, reaction in the blink of an eye,
I wonder what it'd be like between you and I?
It is a shame what has become; for that I must admit.
I wonder what it would be like if things were different?
8/14/16
Racist checkers- ego-fueled.
Back and forth they go.
Jump me once, I'll jump you twice.
Careening toward the darkest back row.
Nothing left but two lonely pieces.
Forever frozen in opposite corners.
Staring over a checkered past.
Over a field of a burned-out dream.
Journeys
My journeys, my adventures through time
have come to you on the wings of many a rhyme.
There are delightful blisses, heart breaking sorrows,
from the past, in the here and now, in my tomorrows.
Tomorrows, being the future we may not know.
Tomorrows, promised to no one, we may not go
into that space , that place in futures time,
except for psychics, writers of prose and rhyme.
The essence of my checkered past, my history,
have come to you through many a sad story.
Ninety two volumes, in honest detail, do tell
of this foolish man, seventy three, who fell
from the walls, onto the wrong side of life’s glory,
to live out a life of ???, this be a part of my story.
The many adventures, journeys coming to an end
as I slowly saunters upon a path to the next bend.
B. J. “A ” 2
September 28th 2016
If things were different it wouldn't be the same;
A just sense of peace and no place just for blame.
It’s hard to imagine that things could ever change;
So many broken pieces unable to arrange.
A checkered past, that was riddled with guilt.
Dried up a flower, too late to watch wilt.
Without action by a master of disguise;
There may never have been a you and an I...
A closed mind kept shut and hidden inside.
Slowly but surely a love left and died.
This cloak concealed truth to not remove.
A childish boy with something not to prove.
Many days came late and several dollars same short.
If we took back the past, we'd regret much, much more.
In light of the present, we reflect upon the past.
No time need you dwell, skinny, it is all over fast.
Action, reaction and in the blink of an eye,
I wonder what it'd be like between you and I?
It is a shame what has become. I must admit.
I wonder what it would be like if things were different?
-Ironic Zinc 2013
Edit on 6-6-16-
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