I try to suffice the unseen parts of me,
the ones I try so hard to hide,
to take apart,
and rip away the nature,
though it seeps deep in my dna,
and time through time the cycle restarts,
etching every moment,
every breath that I try to do myself,
is in the shadow of someone else,
and every step that I take,
is controlled not only by envy,
but at the thought i am no better than the ones I share blood with,
hence I look into a mirror,
and staring back is a figment of my imagination,
the person i've made myself,
is only in the ignorance of turning out like somebody else,
of having the dishonour and curse of being part of a family fueled by animosity,
the same attributes, the same nose, the same eyes, the same mannerisms,
no matter how hard I try to climb out of this hole and break the loop,
who am I if not following in my parents footsteps?
every step I have took leading to now has been guided by them anyhow,
so its only fairplay,
to pay them back for their care.
I am all the people who came before me And I am all the people who will come after me
This is an ode to all of our ancestors Just because we don't all share the same blood Does not not mean that we are not one
To me inheritance Isn't just about family But communal experiences
I inherited my voice From those who were silenced but not quiet
I inherited my purpose From those who didn't get justice
I inherited my essence From ghosts Of our ancestors
I inherited the power of love A force stronger than the hatred They shoved down our throats
I inherited the strength From those who dared to go against the system
What I honour is every black life who fought, spoke and died for us And it would be a dishonour to keep quiet and not speak up
And to them I'm very thankful
And my children will inherit All of the above
An ode to our ancestors
Forgive this battery; tilt up your chin.
You're ready now.
Still, absent. "Help! Help!"
Life running in. Futile.
Puckered breath on silent chest.
Crushing pain and animal calls.
"Please! Please!" A familiar voice.
We work. Not for you.
You are lost, forever and complete.
Distinguished face, absent now.
Silver hair matted red and brown.
For them. We work.
Body rushed to mind's demented end.
Forgive us this dishonour on
Your ancient bones.
We press, counting, breathing.
Declined decision raises ugly head.
Of vomit, of blood, of tears and shame.
A bookcase bare of recent tome,
Crushed under laced fingers.
"What's the time?" It's over now.
Last moments made brutal.
Forgive us this horror.
For them we worked.
When there's no ear when you speak
and you are made to be an oblivious bargain
when trust sounds so far away
and friends become quite cliche
take care, rest well, goodnight.
When feeling burdened,
burdened with pain
when family doesn't see it that way
when there's no one who truly believes
take care, rest well, goodnight.
When misunderstandings are the new hearsays,
slanders guiding your every way
when troubles never seem to go away,
loneliness etched into your veins
take care, rest well, goodnight.
Trials may come,
dishonour on your name
whispers to crush or kill
even though life doesn't go as willed
take care, rest well, goodnight.
Wipe your tears
face your fears
bad days all come and go
remember that you matter more
than any pearls you know
whenever sad, cry all you want
it's alright you know
tomorrow is a brand new day
so goodnight and hope again.
Humani mendacity
Foul water still and staining
A bowl full of silence
A firming maybe.? Assent?
No approbation.? No Dishonour
Validation yet; no walking out..'
Hard heads no holds; denied'
Kinship bloodless calls
Turn to denial? big up acedemia '
Life and death yes or no
Ignore and prance no tune needed
Vile in a vial, so share that sludge.!
Definitive,
a dry phrase, dripping with meaning,
which dissolves
the pallour of revolution.
Incitement,
barking message,
cuts through discontent
with rotating blades,
it awards morals and sense
of living, watching
the sun of the ancestors.
Do not use personalism,
not because the self does not exist
with the fronds of dishonour,
it exists, but it is pathetic.
Not I, one wants to be impersonal
peering into the dark,
intuition of dried herbs
and served cold.
Mothers swearing
the latest jacquerie of troublesome children.
Fathers sipping wine
whitened by the many waits for dialogue.
Sons savouring cold metal,
without regard or understanding
for hunched shoulders,
heroes for a day, piecework fools.
There is no personalism,
only clumsy attempts
Not everyone survives challenging situations... But even if you do, the experience never leaves you. It's at best an extreme lesson in survival; whether emotional, physical, psychological, spiritual or a combination of them all. May we each learn to treat each other well - with kindness, dignity, respect and fairness.
What you did...
By Michelle Morris
05/04/2020
The forgiveness I gave,
Saved me from you;
No matter the heartache,
Dishonour or cruel.
Sins that you played out
For your delight;
Spite and malice;
Always claiming right.
Lies and betrayal,
Forcing my hand;
Loss of love
And favour;
Flames that you fanned.
You died,
It was over;
Or so I thought;
But the heartache
Still lingers,
No karma can mute.
© Michelle Morris, 2020
Blemished
She lives with dishonour;
Besmirched
With hate, she’s surrounded
Broken-down
Her fate was thrown into darkness.
She is the mother of evil
A scum-bag of a woman
A lowlife
A rotter
She deserves death;
An eye for an eye.
In response to the mother who abused and starved her one-year-old son until he suffered a ‘horrific’ death, then sobbed about it on Facebook.
Tonika Willoughby, 28, is said to have inflicted appalling and ultimately fatal cruelty on her toddler over an extended period of time, which culminated in his death at her home in Labadieville, Louisiana, on November 9. 2020
A Facebook page that appears to belong to Willoughby
She posted: ‘November 09, 2020, is.
Da worst day of mah life,’ on the day of the toddler’s death.
Dishonour
Disobey
Distort
Disrupt
Discord
Disturb
Dislike
Distrust
Disgust
Dismay
Disappoint
The traffic cop told me you’re in for a fine
You should not dishonour the speed limit sign
Which made little sense
My driving license
Said, (in black and white) tear along dotted line
You parallel my humility with weakness
You take me as meek; spiritless
You scorn my modesty as frailty
So you think it is okay to dishonour me
To conduit your frustration through me
To siphon your indignation,
'cause you surmise me as submissive!
I may silently weep
But I ain't a sheep
And the day I'll speak,
I will roar, I will roar
And I will roar louder than a beast.
Never again take me as meek; spiritless
As submissive, spineless.
“Maverick”
Mavericks are made
in the silence
spent
where
freedom
is kept locked tight
in solitary confinement
moments melting
down visceral pain
through love
and
loveless madness
fierce swords are
grown from what’s
left of the shattered
Heart’s core
self-belief taken up again
intellect fox cunning
running the gauntlets
between the
dishonour guards
in Hell’s burning rain
Majesties are silver spoon
and coddled born
Mavericks are delivered
from hot kitchens and
cool as milk made
to lead
Warriors Brave
through
The Storm
Mavericks are made
to reign
(LadyLabyrinth/2019)
"I am the master of my sea"
Maverick
An unorthodox or independent-minded person.
an interlude
of ecstasy
clings&
possesses
the eternal
with love&
inflames
thereby
to enslave
the wonder
of the unknown
helps fathom
faith
&fashion
tnoughts' gown
into
a
truer way
vanity's eyes
quicken
&yet
fleeting
sorrow
aware of the stain
of dishonour
declines
a choice breeze
of mellow
breath
drowns
dull misery
calls
for a response
to douse
the flame&
proclaim
a warning
to the unaware
distress
appears
with unease
to
mutter
a lament
&to mock
the living soul&
adorn
the gloom
vigour
arrives
upon
the flowering tide
on
the shore
of delight
to acquaint&
throng
this sweet place
to
please
&
dream
once more
I bow to the word
a servant of the honest truth
secrecy is held in the eyes of the beholder
not one single soul can relate to an individual's suffering
To go against the church
is to go against God Himself
to dishonour the Shrine of Justice
filled with misery it cares no more
Father it was never my intentions to offend You
holding the cross forgive me my sins
I will defend the truth until my last breath
if it were to be condemned for being right
when the time is getting shorter
that should be your dawning age of wisdom
Once upon an evening we decided
to let our love to be undivided;
Promised we'd share our all burden with smile,
surely issues we both will reconcile ;
Thought our hearts would beat only in one rhythm
won't allow tears, nothing will be hidden
between us; That was our wishful thinking
at the end of the day we'll be winning;
Good things never continue for too long;
Yet, we presume our bad days won't extend
continued to dishonour our caring.
But, why our dreams broke, failed to get along;
Have you not thought why always we pretend
to be contented though we're uncaring?
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