The tall and crippled old man,
lived in a mysterious old house.
Many said the two went together,
like pasta and tomato sauce.
He left his mysterious home by car,
and only in the early mornings.
What is his name ~ where did he come from?
The mysterious house held secrets.
crippled
and zany
wand of my life
keeps me alive, blimey
and blessed
As a mother, Christ gave heed to the woman's plea.
For him, days of work or Sabbath days did not count.
From their selves, he observed, the human creatures flee
For eighteen years, the Book says, she was evil-bound.
She got bent by burdens of societal flaws.
Crude communal clouds had blocked drizzles of graces.
How long should she be clenched within crocodile claws?
She felt, at the advent of Christ, healing traces
Murmurs of cynics melted at Christ’s sunbeam smile.
Don't you untie your cattle on a day of rest?
His touch healed in the crippled all that was senile.
Feet of Times stopped for a moment, feeling blessed.
Stand straight; this is what, to all crippled, Jesus says.
The dissonants should get rid of their rude ways.
Ah! There it breaks
On the ground soiled
Abandoned
Foolish foot tearing that unmissed
Not knowing the destruction
Lost
Once it lived up above
Now fallen down
Gone
Before it had a purpose
A bringer of life
Fallen
There in silent death
Now crippled
Free
I have inked my verses
All day for so long
Poured my soul in pages
But got nothing in return
For being a full time poet
Poverty has ruined my life
Crippled my very spirit
Humiliation and neglect
follows me everywhere
My wrinkles and weary eyes
Speak of misery and destitution
So I have decided
To forsake my pen
Destroy all my works
Delete from memory
That once I was a bard
My verses will die with me
As I perform their last rites
Since writing has got me nowhere.
A free verse/haikus
Abused and bemused
So taken advantaged of
Accused…took the blame
Amused by muses
Strifeful peace don’t mix too well
Held on for dear life…
Crippled and confused
Delicately decaying
Bruised feelings…screwed loose…
Collapsed suddenly
Guess this is goodbye for now
Burdened — in a rut…
Cut down the ropes please
Tell me it’s okay…I’ll live
Give or take…at ease
Yet, I’m too nervous
Too fearful of what lies dead…
Dead inside — anxious~
Too afraid to let go
Rather be dead than alive
Feeling so hollow . . .
Here’s two words I feel —
Lonesome insecurities
You are a joy kill
I’m misunderstood
So? — you ask like whatever
Too good to be real…
I'm old, I'm old
I'll die if I catch cold
I tried to skip
But snapped my hip
I'm old I'm old I'm old.
Neptune's net strikes on floating flames
Her souls sounding faint gossamer goodbyes
Ocean's octaves murmur mute
Dim dives to a regretful reef
Blue grief blurs, sailors say
In twilight tides, widows whisper
Their lost laments for crippled ships
12/19/21
THE CRIPPLED
Walking toward foreshore
I saw the devil seated on a fence
Fishing
Next day I heard he got a thrashing
It was intense
Blood trickled from his core
He would fish no more
Baby and Mommy shark were out to score.
*
’ve been in dirts and seen the downs
I’ve continually been a verb and no noun
Refuse to help said lotus blooms in mud
But they scrunched me only in the bud
Fell down when stand apart from the row
Crippled me want you to let me grow
I’ve had a dream to visit the mountains
But they broke my sticks left eyes in pain
Plight of eyes got worse when it rained
When my velveteen clay bed turned quicksands
I lost my voice crying for help
And I started to wait for a slow death
That night only me got fortunate
I saw the horrible view of pseudo humanity
Flooded away my pride, conscience
Later but my broken sticks at prime
Here am going to get lucky lad
Another crippled will kick the mean world
Enjoying slowly dying to live peacefully
And elevated without sticks to get wings
Once couldn’t walk under the weight of miseries
It was a nightmare of me, they need not be sorry
Can’t see you with this height, today i got wings to fly
To be honest am blessed they did let me die.
Grown out of mindfulness or cowardice?
Black fruit: a crippled sense of confidence.
Torment to see the engine, powerless –
Stalled for fuel ne’er bequeathed by providence.
O, tragic fate of minion men as I!
Who would rather tell of themselves far less –
Do we fear the ego grown in the eye?
Or simply loathe failure without redress?
Ah, pride, so clever are you, foremost sin.
Hiding in the guise of humility!
I evade the race for fear I can’t win;
For could I lose – Twisted profanity!
Somehow, it must be learnt. That deadly loss,
Can’t come from me! There – The dagger I toss!
28 October 2019
Prosthetic language can never fix
a Poems broken joints
Only inspiration can set
the break for sure
Crutches and canes to prop up verse
severely disappoint
Perception falling on its face
—a crippled lost poseur
(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2019)
Bought a load of heifers some time ago
Was in late winter, with rain -- not snow.
On the trailer they'd been loaded fast
Tightly packed to ensure time would quickly pass.
One heifer for reason not known
Fell and was trampled upon.
Trucker asked what to do,
Said, "They're mine -- fit and injured too."
So, Old Red as she was named
With injured hip, was forever lamed.
Joined the herd as all cows do
And produced calves as was destined to.
Why not sell her is the question often asked.
And my answer is always fast.
Wouldn't bring a decent price for she's crippled
So guess she'll live out her life here, it's that simple.
Three calves and counting is the score,
All big, healthy and more.
She's paid her dues, and can stay,
What more can I say.
s
The crippled lad stood beneath the bell tower
Pulls the rope to ring the bell at the praying hour.
With each mighty heave the bell does toll.
along the street the congregation did stroll.
As parishioner's entered within,
all greeted with an angelic grin.
Determination written on his angelic face,
the young lad continues at a mighty pace.
In the little White Chapel on Maple Road
this crippled boy’s joy is bestowed.
In this small town of one-hundred and nine,
everyone knew that Tommy was short of time.
Tommy Woodward born with a bowed back,
The congregation knew that as a fact.
Tommy would not let his handicap be a deterrent,
but hospital visits were a regular recurrence
On a bright and sunny day the bell ceased to ring,
While inside the chapel the choir sorrowfully sing.
Slowly a solemn procession strolled out the door,
Tommy Woodward will ring the bell no more.
Why did you run?
Trapped in illusion with doctors and pills
Stretched to your mind's limit
searching for God
A daughter abandoned..love set adrift
Consuming books, seeking answers
Finding nothing but pages filled with words
that confused your thoughts as you split in two
You chose a coat of freedom lined with despair
to be worn in an empty house on an empty lot,
praying
Were you heard, when you cried yourself to sleep
after water and apples?
Growing thinner each gray day,
when you talked to your mind as it performed a play
You abandoned yourself as you did a life you gave birth
Where was the lifeline you could hold,
to free yourself from the world sinking around you?
They fed you medication for a crippled soul
and forgot to listen as you screamed
"there's nothing wrong"
while losing your grip on the last cliff of reality
above the valley of the unknown
A life filled with confusion waiting to be heard
No one heard..no one came..no prayer answered
only death
and the lonely pages of scribbled script
that quietly diminished with the hollow feeling
that you should have been saved
by someone
5/26/17
contest God Knows Where I Am
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