I sing the ballad of Jeffrey Epstein
With his island of underage dames
He had connections, a kind of go-between
If hell exists, he's in the flames.
Lots of folks knew of his appetites
But he had connections, he had clout
Now all sorts of bigwigs are in the gun sights
If elected, we should kick them out.
Of course we have to be careful in the naming
Some people just overlooked sins, to get a connection
He was a low life liar too, not above framing
But its sickening to look at the contacts collection.
There's a lesson here, to stay away
From any man whose got demons to hide
Black and white, avoid shades of gray
Or he'll take you for that devil ride.
From the dead, his hand reaches, naming names.
Dragging people down, dragging them below
Lives move on, but their honor stained
Some truths, I'd rather not know.
We seem like stars lighting a cold dark sky,
separated from others (so lonely).
It makes me want to breathe a somber sigh,
If we could be together (if only)."
Yet, we are kept apart not by light years,
but by things we believe (or know) are right.
I think these beliefs are what interferes,
leaving us in our lonesome, friendless plight.
Folks want connection before they rest,
but it's in their beliefs that they invest.
I lie awake at night
Thinking of the loves
And opportunities for intimacy
I have missed
Who is to blame here when we both stopped picking up calls?
Is it because the lines that connected us have rusted?
Or is it because we both outgrew each other?
My love for you never ran out, even when I was drowning.
You just stopped sending invitations,
and I stopped writing to you.
Our love was as pure as the kisses you burned into my body,
your name engraved within the depths of my heart.
But we ran out of luck and lost it all
In the vastness of existence, we wander,
Like planets bound in an age-old dance,
Each heartbeat a revolution, a ponder,
In the gravity of chance and circumstance.
Your laughter, a sun that ignites my skies,
Drawing my spirit in orbits so sweet,
Yet somehow, like comets, we drift, and we rise,
In the tangled paths where our destinies meet.
Time is a force that pulls us apart,
Yet the echoes of moments keep calling us near,
Like celestial bodies, you dwell in my heart,
In the realms where love conquers distance and fear.
Through seasons of change and the pull of our dreams,
We align in the twilight, two stars in the night,
For even in darkness, each flicker redeems,
The essence of life that ignites our flight.
So here’s to the cycles that shape who we are,
To the laws of connection, the pulls and the turns,
For in this grand cosmos, where we’re never too far,
Love’s orbit, a lesson, and endlessly burns.
Connections in mirrors that aren’t there. But in reflection they shine like they don’t care.
Does mud and stone hold on to our memories?
At night when we hear sounds of decades gone, oh sometimes too clearly.
Starlight shows us places we’ll never see.
The trees rings speak of ages in which we’ll never be.
The oceans’ tides have witnessed our history.
There’s something in the air that we can’t see.
A glimpse between life now and of the past.
A split second triggers memories we hold fast.
Memories of lives in history?
Our we connected to the world in ways that we can’t see?
Sky looks beautiful with clouds
azure skyscape impressive though,
starlit sky illumines forests of night.
Short or long, verdant shade soothes
a tree, single or in clusters pleases.
A spring or meandering stream
carries trillions of pooled droplets
yet, a drop of water slakes thirst.
Flowing water-ways jubilantly join
emerge finally as a mighty river.
Uncles, aunts, grandparents cared
children loved lullabies, stories told
enjoying every moment of the phase.
Parents happily shared and cared for all
a family stood firm as a vast empire.
A radiant planet may mesmerize
yet, constellations overwhelm all,
galaxies tantalize faraway humanity.
Segregation slices, roam rootless
self-centered folks rudderless!
Hearing, but not truly listening,
Points flicker like fireflies, elusive, fleeting,
A dance of light that’s hard to catch and hold.
I yearn to be heard, yet I must learn to listen,
Let the words unfold, not just aim and win.
To coax the point, let it take flight and grow.
Then, perhaps, we’ll find a common ground,
Where understanding blooms, where meanings are found.
A dance of light that’s hard to catch and hold.
To Coax the point, let it take flight and grow.
The End
I have truly become fond of many poets here on Poetry Soup
And to be quite honest that has completely surprised me
l never believed a human connection could be made via a screen
Yet…. l have proved myself wrong completely
I do have a gullible soft hearted nature
Thus…. l am easily taken for a ride
So , l do question at times if ‘some’ of those connections are mutual
Or coming only just from one side
I hope these poets feel the connection as l do
And our cyber connection is honest and real
I would be sad to think otherwise
Disappointment and mistrust l would feel!
My mom takes me.
Therapists are very accommodating.
I talk with rhymes.
Waiting on slimes.
She walked through the door.
It started to pour.
She hands me a notebook thank you.
Therapists hate me.
But they collect a fee.
In the waiting room.
Connections of doom.
22 seconds later, I’m done.
I was writing, I wasn’t moving my lips at all.
She’s smiling, I’m sure of it.
She smiles me through the door.
My mom picks me up on Mondays.
She knows the way home.
She knows.
The midnight train rumbles through town,
echoing loneliness,
then it is gone along a western track
where dreams of yesterday reside.
My love, do you also lie sleepless
contemplating echoes?
I am waiting here patiently under this canopy
For thee with flaming heart and a sunlit soul
And the courage that never grows old
I can feel your presence everywhere
And the pains that you have to bear
Come and sit with me
And I will set your troubled heart free
Desires is running down your knees and
And the birds are gallivanting in the trees
They too are waiting for you to come
To compose a melody underneath the
Canopy in the sun
You can glide away in the deep
And I will watch your spirit sleep
The birds will sing over you and
The grass land on the hill
Will be still as you journey into the deep
If I could go back in time I would ravel the
What is on my mind,
A piece of history buried in the Netherlands
The Dutch, the Germans and French
Know about the tobacco island
And the question that you are waiting for
is under the canopy on the shore
And the answer is yes
So sit still and hold your breath
I am waiting for you to come
Dog and frog rhyme.
Cats hate dogs, but sometimes they’re friends.
Frogs and hogs and also logs.
The frog hogs the logs.
Hog is also a pig.
Pig and frog are friends.
Pig and hog are the same so they are like twins.
The cats and dogs are the same.
Because I love them all the same.
And they both are warm and fluffy.
Frogs aren’t warm, so they are mean.
You get what I mean?
They are all animals.
And all animals are like friends.
I hear the croaking.
The frog is dying.
Dog and frog rhyme.
We all went to kindergarten, so we all know.
And we all learned these same truths.
Animals are my friends.
And they all connect.
All my friends know all my other friends…
And they can all walk, but they can’t talk.
But still…
I am convinced they are all colluding-
That’s a word I learned when I got old.
That’s a word that I got told.
Amidst the shadowed depths, I tread with care,
Within a realm where darkness does abide.
My outstretched hand, a shield to guide,
Yet failed to clasp, my fingers hide.
A slender door, unseen, evaded my every sense,
Unleashing blows upon my head.
My familiar metaphors, disturbed, unread
To drift apart, no longer as they were before.
Thus, people and things estranged, they stray,
No longer matched as days of yore.
In altered union, they wander wide,
No longer bound as once before.
Connections.
Can be more insidious than you’d think.
When the blackouts started…
I began to fill in the blanks.
So that no one would know.
But they are trying to trick me with their questions.
Can you tell me where you are?
Can you tell me what year it is?
Why do they care…
No one cares about my ideas anyway.
Even when I’m trying to shout them out.
They don’t understand that I’ll forget all this.
And I can’t write it down, because I forgot how to write, again.
I’m not crazy, I promise!
I just want to be loved…
But that wasn’t the question.
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