It might be a tragedy,
Might be something unethical,
Might be a disaster,
Waiting to happen somehow soon.
It is no bigger than a cyclone,
But it overflows tremendously.
It might not be just a slaughter,
But it might be something physical yet emotional.
There might be a paradise,
There might be a homicide,
There might be a genocide
In the mind of an idiot.
There might be blood on white satin,
It might be chaos within;
Something so cynical,
Yet it looks like a miracle.
This is the breakthrough,
From the surface to the veil underneath.
I wanted to tell you this secret for so long,
You might know it from the very beginning!
This run ain't been fun for a while now
Energy for it all been ran out
Beggin myself to let go of this doubt
N start bein what I always been about
Knock myself off this damn cloud
Kuz its lookin like its about to storm some more
Ya know sht bad when chaoz got me bored
Being sober is more like a chore
The chemicals I keep in my brain cells
Got me convinced this reality I'm in is forreal hell
Its like my luck done hit the driest dry spell
Forgot how it feels to feel well
If I ever did know...
.....dazed out
Wondering if this whole sht
Is a fckd up sht show directed and written by
...who tha fck knows
Gettin kicks outta every low blow I catch to tha dome
Steady fckn with my mental state
Don't even try to act like im tryna exaggerate
but the plates overflowing with anger, pain & hate
when all I ordered was peace, love & fun
with some lust mixed in to hydrate
Keepin it super real
At this fcked up rate,
I dont even gotta contemplate
Why everyones walkin around all irate
While im just slowly strolling around
In this fcked up drug haze
Does it consume my time? Sure.
My money? Of course.
My health? Probably.
My ability to think? Naturally.
Is there great risk in it? If you're not careful ...
but of course you'll be careful
even if it makes you less so by nature ...
So why?
Why flirt with disaster? What's to be gained?
Escape.
Relatively inexpensive; perfectly legal; sometimes quite celebrated.
Christ said not to worry, didn't He?
Well - here's how, you nervous, fearful fool!
And the sweet icing atop the cake -
you ease up on the reins.
You lose the mental strength
to rein in your appetites.
So you'll get your escape - and the sickly sweet thrill
of knowing that your most selfish, raw desires could gain control
and do what your right mind would be far too shamed to endorse
in the Light.
24 August 2025
finished last few lines by 8:31 AM; started the poem some days prior.
TEXAS FLOODING WARS
(Apropos Of A Lesson Of Nature)
The flood waters came,
leaving lost lives washed away;
eyes flooded with tears:
Nature herself, warring with
collateral disaster:-
So many children
won’t be thirsty anymore;
flood waters drowned them:-
Let us thirst for quenching peace:
our human nature flooded:-
Ships sink to bottom in billowing sea;
"It's in that number," apparent to some;
Walking the coast, "I'm no widow," said she;
Either await or admit it won't come.
How many years did she wait for that ship?
Youthful and vibrant to aged and gray;
How many courses of life she let slip,
Married to breakers that crash on the quay.
Surely, we think that her mind must have known
Never again would she look on his face;
Ah! But her heart made a choice what to own,
Better a dream than a grief in its place.
Countering calamity, comfort to cope,
In with the plagues did Pandora give hope.
Devestation by the mountain, a warning now to all.'
Life is fragile.' Who can know.? Or avert when such a disaster
Decides to fall.?
Were you looking for me? Her diabolical dog Disaster asked.
She rolled her eyes.
Disaster knew she was looking for him.
She had called his name over twenty times.
Who tore open the cereal box? Why is it on the floor?
Disaster circled it but admitted nothing.
Who chewed up the new roll of toilet paper?
Disaster looked pointedly at his mistress’s husband.
Why does he always blame me? The husband asked.
Moonlight hitchhikes on green pines
Slipping away like maroon mind
Melancholy music rides breeze I find
Comfort and peace in warm red wine
Escape in a bottle isn’t the worst crime
Running full throttle from dilemma time
No longer on top not in my peach prime
Want it to stop this inner indigo whine
I failed and wail wildly in pantomime
Tell the tale smiling fallen star still shines
Hear them talking judgement like sour lime
Despite squawking new day new grace will chime
Turning the page on the drama of wintertime
Looking forward to redemption in green vines
Not dead yet despite my fret I will be fine
Know how to grow be bold and draw new lines
The ship of dreams
Opulent surroundings
Fancy bed linens
Luxurious dinner plates and tablecloths
Gleaming virginal utensils
Dazzling crystal chandeliers
Polished walnut woodwork
Gold gilded fireplaces
Wardrobes ready for furs and dresses
An experienced captain
Eager staff
Bustling activity
Musicians, artists, businessmen aboard
High ranking officials, wealthy industrialists, celebrities
Cruising flawlessly in clear blue sea
A haven and heaven during the day
Easy sleeping and dreaming in the evening
J.P. Morgan was disappointed to have to cancel at the last minute
Four glorious days of sailing
Around Midnight April 15th, 1912 the Titanic struck an iceberg
The chunk of devilry slashed a three-hundred-foot gash in the hull
Haphazard evacuation ensued
First lifeboat could have held sixty-five people
It left with twenty-eight
The dream ship broke in half after filling halfway up with water
In two hours fifteen hundred people died
The majority of them froze to death in the North Atlantic
I dream of justice taking its rightful place,
And often cling to warm words, a kind face.
How can my soul fit in this vast domain,
When it can’t find its space in a world so plain?
People do not bow to truth’s command,
So misfortune keeps sweeping the land.
Fires, disasters, explosions in mines,
Our skies have yet to clear and shine.
Though my exterior seems harsh and strong,
My heart is tender, aching all along.
I pour it all onto this blank white sheet—
Every day, disasters and slaughter repeat.
In a peaceful land, turmoil runs so deep,
Let’s hope we won’t end up digging graves to keep.
Natural problem
Is worldwide catastrophe
Leave no one behind.
This form is called, Laurette.
Love rest on no foundation. It is an endless ocean, with no beginning or end. Rumi
A raging surf
Pounds the white shore
And the pilings of homes
Collapses one
Gone forever
The shell upon waves roams
They built a ship,
to sail the blue.
A sight of wonder,
a dream come true.
They thought they built,
a mighty view.
There is no sea,
it can’t sail through.
But they were wrong.
For what they built,
was not so strong.
It brought them death,
that is for sure.
In the dark of night,
too far from shore.
An iceberg hit,
and flank it tore.
Husbands and wives,
did not survive.
Even the children,
did lose their lives.
With great Valour,
all rich and poor,
did give their lives,
to force majeure.
The ones who lived,
and had survived,
could not forget,
the souls deprived.
As for the owners,
who were Britannic,
could not forget,
the great Titanic.
Today's rain is more of a doom,
But why not just spare my own room?
You just poured in without a shame
So, who will then take this your blame?
Tho', where I live is a jungle,
My life needs not be this bungled,
Because this flood was just a lot,
This is not just based on my thought.
Its' anger was unleashed too pure,
Though, not only to us, the poor,
Those at Lekki bought their own shares,
Their riches brought them their scares.
Tho' pained, but not by my soaked book,
But by the food I was to cook,
They were all soaked by this mean crook,
That turned my room to a deep brook.
My hunger cried, as the rain poured,
Everything swam, as the sky mourned,
Hunger came, as salary cried,
Debts begged, as the month-end sighed.
river in full spate
yoke of oxen wade calmly
confident farmer
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