My voice my wings,
with it i fly to you,
my mind my eyes,
with it i see you.
There behind those mountains,
the mountains of anonymity,
how i wish to come,
and make myself known to you,
and you known to me.
I lead the life of lies,
for my root i borrowed,
from which all my branches will come,
and bear the fruits of lies.
You have no-idea how many times over the years
(after I ran away from home , to stop my dad trying to kill me again)
that I wondered what was so wrong with me that he hated
me enough to try and kill me ?
why ? why ? why ?
I understood why mum left when I was 7
he was cruel and selfish to her
but us kid's ?
the hateful stares at the dinner table
the long uncomfortable silences
when me and my sister dare-not utter a sound,
Or out came the big leather belt !
I went to school some days black and blue
from my shoulders to the backs of my knees.
I got sent home once;
one of the teachers saw the bruises;
that got me another beating , and this time he broke my nose.
I don't hate him anymore
he has been a long time dead now.
I will never forget his cruelty.
thank you for reading...
If you see abuse happening
please report it;
YOU MIGHT SAVE A LIFE.
Elizabeth alexander 11/2/2016.
UNSUPPORTED CODE
( Contest name : Beautiful scars)
The day dady departed,
Promises were winged locusts.
Uncle pledged heaven on earth.
Aunt vowed I would be a prince.
No sooner daddy was intered
Than I knew khaki was not a leather.
Soon it was home alone.
Aunt melted away like snowflake.
Uncle became a needle lost in bamuda.
Like spittle that was out of the mouth,
None ever returned .
So wants adopted me;
Taught me to fetch woods for bakeries
And supply water to construction sites
But needs took me to school
Though in coat of many colours
And a gum shoe without any sock.
Wants and needs were not laissez faire -
They woke me up before cock crowed,
Slept only when the streets were desolate -
Often corrected me with severe hunger
That today I offer people butter bread,
Seat and bouncing beds under ceiling roof.
But the children of Israel visit Joseph in Egypt:
There is hunger in the land says the uncle,
Give us a room to keep our heads says the aunt;
Then I look back in restropect -
Though dad's death is a scar,
All is well that ends well.
Kayode.
22/11/15.
This plumly;yield of temperent night,sirs and ladies
Esoterick flooms,buded;tyrant pees_shy faces?
This plain;ungraph of seremic light,ties and lads
Egoscentric moons,burreld;silent tears_passionate likes?
Oh;
my,
candles
alight
All
my,
sandles
are light
These mailing men,obscure bloosom
blind date;dalnty da dady,mumzy laugh
The maiming todlers,abstract geese_goose
change of thought:My remnant sigh?
eye meets sight
eyes as they sigh
Tonight was supposed to be one of the biggest nights of my life.
Happy to entertain my fans.
I just got the worst phone call of all.
My father died.
I didn't think I can get on stage like this tonight.
Was tryn so hard to hold back these tears.
I thought maybe I'll cancel tonight.
I didn't want to let my fans down.
They been lookin foward to seeing me.
"You got 5 mins to show time" the lady says.
I close my eyes and pray.
"Lord Jesus,I need you tonight.
I need your help.
I cant do this by myself."
Walked out on stage to sing my song.
Tryn my best to hold back my tears and be strong.
As I was performing, I see my friend looking concerned.
He can tell somthing was wrong.
When I finished singing, I didn't even want to talk to anybody.Not even the show
host.
I just had to go.
I went to the back and cried. I didn't even tell my dady I love him before he died.
I didn't get the chance.
I decided I'd write a song about him to my fans.
Always tell the most impotant people in your life, you love them
especaily your mom and dad
cause the next time you talk to them may be you're last.
deer mister god: momy said i coud rite a leter by mysef to you
i'd lik to talk on the fone with you but this wil half to do
id reely lik to set on yur lap, ticle you and pul yur beerd
maybee sumday i can do that if you woudn think me weerd
i want you to no i ben good and go to churc and sundy skool
my sundy skool techer has ben teaching us the goldy rool
be sur to be in churc next sundy, il show you my nuu shooz
il make sur dady nos yur ther so he wont tak his snooz
ther is sum things i ben wantin to ask you about
is it ok if i dont have to eat all my brusel sprout
momy says you ar al around us but i have nevr seen you
ar you playin hid and seek and playin triks on me too
nuther thing i ben wunder about is who invented lite
wuz it you or mister edisun pleaz tel me wich is rite
tel me what reely hapen to al them dinersors
and why do dadies have to fite in al the wars
momy says im geting a litle bruthr but wont you tak pity
what i reely want frum you or santi claws is a flufy kity
i luv you as many as the stars and want you as my frien
tak good care uf yursef mister god yur pen pal mary ann
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired (© All Rights Reserved)
I love him because...
-he loves me more than i expected him.
-i am happy whenever we wEre together.
-there are lots of reasons, can't type them all...
Or Maybe because....
My dady ryan is a coward.
He lies.
He falls.
He slips.
He cries.
He snores.
He smells.
He shouts.
He yells.
He screams.
He made wrong decisions.
He begs.
He runs in the dark.
He is scared of ghosts.
He looks weak.
He got heart problems.
He got ulcer.
He is from a broken family.
He lives alone.
He doesn't have a house.
He is a mess.
He got bad past.
But even with all of this,
I love him very much.
And i accept him as what he is.
I may not say and show it to him, but
"I AM" proud of him
She's coming
I better hide
She trembles her way inside
Drunk I can see
fear runs inside of me
hidden in a small dark closet
where I was not to be caught, aleast I thought
I am found
now I lye on the ground
got beaten so bad from head to toe, it hurts to move, hurts to talk, hurts, to cry
God am I going to die?
4 days untill I move with my dady and everything will be alright,
but instead I lye in a puddle of blood time to say goodnight
cops came and said it's to late
Sh's dead
no more words need to be said
funerals on its way and on my grave it will say "daddy's girl is brave"
people came and cried to day,
but I dont understand why
I am happy and free
they just dont want me to be,
but instead they want me to come back,
back to a mother that I lack,
to sisters that watched as I suffered and didn't care,
and to a father that didn't hurry up and help me out of here,
so I can go through the abuse once more
to wake up to a body in pain,
a body so sore
with cuts and bruises from belts, switches, and all the other things she uses to
make me black and blue
a true mother something that was never you.