I open my eyes, and she is gone.
I was the flower, and you, the queen bee.
Though I promised sweeter nectar, richer and deep,
You grew restless, leaving my petals to weep.
Suddenly a bird, you took to the breeze,
Soaring away, far above the trees.
I close my eyes, and she appears.
A grand eagle, slicing through the gale,
While I, a mere cloud, send a scent so frail,
Chasing your shadow, a never-ending trail.
Now, she is nowhere to be seen.
I drift into a dream once more.
Seeking new blossoms to claim and disown,
You are still a queen upon your throne.
'When those other flowers wither and die,
To another garden, you will surely fly.'
So I shall bloom no more.
A flower already withered at the core.
Let spring, summer, autumn, and winter roll by—
My petals will never again greet the sky.
Yet remember this, before your journey is done:
Your final stop, under the dying sun,
Will be the jaws of the butterwort flower—
Trapped in the carnivore's silent power.
Full of hope
Leaving for life
Set sail on the ocean
As husband and wife
The kids appeared
The rein tightened
Protecting the young 'uns
From all our fightin'
Left again for protection
A shelter full of strangers
Walking the path together
Surviving only dangers
Losing this, giving that
Never a straight line of rest
Every single moment
Seems to be another test
I got out my sieve
And I could finally see the thread
A system based on borrowing
From the master humanity dreads
The overlords use our suffering
To build the benefits of blood
They get name, fame, wealth
While we sink in red clay mud
Once I found strength to rise
I stood in the face of all my fears
And rather than reject and disown
I brought them near, so I could finally clear
...the bloodline thread
Written by Trudy Schrader on 04-04-2026
Pulling at the knots, the noose became ever tighter,
each strand of string looping,
clinging tightly to one another.
Hands trembling, I sought to unravel its might
yet the harder I tugged, the deeper the night.
It resisted me at every motion,
binding me to the shame I thought
I could disown.
Each twist, and knot within a knot
were where my skills had amounted to nought; null; worthless.
Despite the frenzied desperation, the knot held.
Why
another failure?
Yet as I came to see; maybe knots aren't necessarily a bad thing.
Like the sewing, where without a knot
one could not finish a seam,
or upon a wooden bridge,
where wearied travelers might praise the builder
for leaving knotted handholds in their wake.
Perhaps one day I might even say
"I'm glad I failed on that day".
For though I have indisputably failed,
the knot has shown me my bounds,
not defeat; but rather a testimony.
A map of flaws I would no longer hide,
a vanishing mirror to be glanced back at
only briefly during my strides.
A God-spark, capsuled in form,
senses currents cool and warm,
joyous on feeling contrast,
not knowing earth life won’t last.
Thought spawned illusions amaze,
so soon the soul’s in a daze,
descent chosen by free will,
so he must now trudge uphill.
To rise on an upward arc,
is easy for the God-spark,
if in heart its quest does start,
a simple shift and yet an art.
Mind has a life of its own,
which it is loathe to disown,
so continues spewing thought,
a web in which soul is caught.
A day comes when desires cease,
thoughts ebb and soul flows with ease,
propelled by bliss magnetism,
enlivening body prism.
Cessation then paves the way,
compelling mind to obey,
pulse of heart, all love and light,
filling form with bliss delight.
Heaven then descends to earth,
childlike hearts bubbling with mirth,
recognising all are one,
as God’s spark, same as the sun.
I got out of bed
In the middle of the night
My time is not my own
I do the tasks
That are required of me
My own sleep I do disown.
From one task to another
I go from room to room
Making sure everything is alright
I’m doing my best
And often I get it wrong
But sometimes I get it right.
Full-time job
On top of that
The foundations are about to crack
I do my best
With what I have
No time to take a nap.
But at night
I take flight
And my mind visits distant lands
My heart breaks out
In artistic scraps
Which I write with my crippled hand.
I do not begrudge
My lot in life
It is what it is, I know
But my poems and muse
Keep my “feet” moving
Leading me on the path to home.
209.
Do Not!
Do not deceive me
Because I am loyal to thee
Do not frustrate me
Because I trust thee
Do not cut me
Because I'm here to heal thee
Do not mock me
Because I praise thee
Do not disintegrate me
Because I am here to complete thee
Do not sadden me
Because I gladden thee
Do not confuse me
Because I am sincere to thee
Do not frighten me
Because I braven thee
Do not leave me
Because I'm always here for thee
Do not disown me
Because I accept thee
Do not misunderstood me
Because I'm trying to be frank to thee
Do not trash me
Because I value thee
Do not destroy me
Because I use to repair thee
Do not hate me
Because I love thee!
-05/19/2013
(Dumarao)
*My Stormy Morning Poems Collection
What stone should be thrown,
To disown a system I'm shown,
I know I'm not alone,
Life feels like a big loan,
A load I own and pay for,
Really I don't want it anymore,
Sick of seeing the poor and miserable,
Life divisible by what's in the bank,
Worried about gas in their tank,
Thankful for the littles things,
My capabilities can bring,
It's hard to sing scraping the floor,
Hoping to find a little more,
A quarter, A dime,
How much can I find this time,
Priming myself for the best,
Knowing I'll have enough for the quest,
Second guessing my choices,
Inner voices start screaming,
Little demons scheming,
A seemingly impossible task,
Asks to be acknowledged,
Dredged up from their beds,
I'm tired of what's in my head,
I'd feel better off dead,
I've said it over and over,
The boulder on my shoulder,
Is growing older everyday,
What stone Should I throw today?
Words don't come easy
They really never have
They usually just come out messy
Leaving me with should haves
Should have walked away
Before opening my mouth
Not that I don't have words to say
It's just my mind speaks outload
Sometimes way too abruptly
Never with meaning to offend
Be careful of what is asked quickly
Because it will surely be my end
Please don't ask my opinion
Unless you are willing to accept
You will probably have to disown me
Because the response will be inept
Spoken truly with shaking
It seems I was born without
This simply thing is lacking
To stop the words out of my mouth
Lines of linguistic train wrecks
crash their coupled words
into higgledy-piggledy junkyards.
It's your poem to disown.
but you post it because your mind
craves to see itself on digital paper.
The poem may appear in its Sunday Best
but the bible it clings to is full of gypsy jargon.
Have faith or have no faith,
you must convince a faceless audience
that are already distracted
trying to make sense of their own poetry.
if you get it, you really have not got it.
Like sand through stiff fingers
it shapeshifts onto a white sky -
its then you realize
that the 'submit your poem' option
is, and always was,
a trap.
(cheeky p*ss take remake of Whitesnake)
So here we go again.. we all moan
Bazball mode is all this lot have ever known
Like a grifter now our Ashes chances blown
So we've made up our mind just stop wasting all our time
So here they go again…we all groan
Goad only on a road has Bazball ever flown
Need a bifter after tone of what they've shown
So far behind…the Aussies did easily find
Our boys got a pasting one more time
So here they go again.. we all moan
Seeds sowed but seems this team’s never grown
Need a snifter after Bazball so injury prone
Must be unkind coz you basting in your slime
So here we go again…we all groan
Bazball did implode time we forever did disown
Like a drifter seems born to walk alone
Bullsh*t been mined tasting something sublime?
So here we go again…we all moan
Going down like a load of convicts hasting their crime
Skirts
With comforts,
Hollandia Yoghurt flirts...
Before each tongue diverts,
From the usual that alerts,
The change to an impromptu concerts,
In different stages of many a song asserts
Except for the atmospheric dive,
Our faces depict the shared skirts
Without sweet scents, breaths hive
Swaying gallant statues in style alerts
High concentrated inebriant consumed
Took our legs lightly easy leaning back
Subjected to change of hits well costumed
Our voices disown its pitches to its crack
Introduce us to the people we know not
And we mingle like been known for ages
It wasn't true but lively moment grown hot
Speaking truthful lies unlike most sages
Happiness
Staged liveliness
Interrupt able orderliness
And introduce apt funniness
In order to promote calmness
Actively seeking to warm night dizziness
Through the beauty of tease staggering fitness
Of our hearts pouring out raw felicity's queasiness
“The mind knows many things and heart only one ~
Come home oh dear child and shine like yonder sun”
~ quote by poet
Gathering knowledge, small pebbles on a beach,
a pastime, the child in us has engaged in
but what have we garnered and what can we teach,
if we have seen not our true being within?
By knowing the Self, everything else is known,
to which end, our ego we must first disown,
silencing the mind, wherefrom thought forms arise
that we imbibe bliss mists in childlike surprise.
A name I gave, a hand I fed,
Nights of toil, my dreams I bled.
The cradle rocked with borrowed cries,
Yet truth lay veiled in whispered lies.
I wore the crown of fatherhood,
Built a home from flesh and wood.
But silence kept its sharpened sword,
And struck me down.
DNA, a ruthless guide,
Revealed the secret long denied.
The mirror cracked, the lineage torn,
A trust betrayed, a child forlorn.
Oh, heavy weight of hidden sins,
Where family breaks, and pain begins.
Love was real, yet roots deceived,
A father made, but not conceived.
So judge not quick, nor love disown,
For bonds of heart are seeds well sown.
But let the law, with justice broad,
Stand guard against paternity fraud.
Welcome to The State of Dis Union.
Here are some “dis” words to describe The State of Dis Union.
Dismantle, disruptive, disagree, disrespectful, distract,
Disappointing, disable, discredit, disregard, disobey,
Dislike, disloyal, dislocate, disaffiliate, disrepute,
Disgrace, disaffirm, dishonest, disembark, disinfect
Disgusting, disturbing, dismiss, discontinue, disarm,
Disconnect, disorderly, disassociate, discreet,
Disapprove, dissent, dispute, disorientated,
Disorderly, discord, disadvantage, disbelief,
Displeased, dislodge, disclaim, dishonor, distant,
Disarray, disconcerted, disintegrate, disinform,
Dismal, disown, dispatch, disparity, disguise,
Discriminate, discard, dissolve, distort, distrust,
Discombobulated, disband, discountenance, disaster…
Yep, sounds about right.
We read of clouds and flowers,
Trees and fields and hills of grass.
Alas, like pennies spent, our hours reading words
That other poets penned and sent;
Like freed birds flocking,
Knocking at our door. The poor,
Who seek to sneak a tiny peek
Of timeless, mindless, Truth.
The emotional nakedness of humanity.
The words of natural beauty are only made to be gifted.
We gift them, each to each, in a circular of vernacular
That does not come from without. It is the most real
Of what we steal from this world of dreams.
Seems as though each story, a rememberance of our own.
It is the button of pride they touch as much as anything
We might disown. For we see a part of ourselves forgotten
In each phrase or combination of words that touches us
Where we had forgotten to look, but now recall.
For we are all; We are all. We are ALL.
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