Haunted
Haunted by past mistakes, you have yet to let go
Haunted by the love ones you have come to know
Haunted by voices in your head, running amuck
Haunted by events leaving you feel dumbstruck
Haunted by worries that can consume you whole
Haunted by depilating burdens that takes its toll
Haunted by choices, the right and the wrong ones
Haunted by cruelty, making you stick to your guns
Haunted by fears, so surmounting, so surreal
Haunted by emotions, so overcoming, so real
Haunted by memories, revealed in deep sleep
Haunted by confusion, embedded so deep
Haunted by loneliness, so least expected
Haunted by distrust, feeling so disrespected
Haunted by such anger that we fear to share
Haunted in so many ways, the burdens we bare
“It surely takes a grievous toll
Near the end of snow-white roll” (by author)
My lifespan by default, bawdily brief,
Sadly signifies excremental grief.
From pristine white to shady hues of brown,
Crumpled or creased, crudely disposed aground.
Paradox: I’m the most needed token -
Yet most disrespected, tissue-broken.
It could be smelly feet but no, alas!
It has to be the dark side of an ass.
I don’t intend to make you humans blush,
But you waste me on your waste in a flush.
Thus my life on a roll, floating in vain,
Down the drain, down the drain, down the drain!
August 14, 2026
I’m in a slight poetic fix,
For surely it’s expected
That I will write about the Knicks
Or else be disrespected.
See, for me, this team is local
So my loyalty is due,
Though no cheering, loud and vocal,
From my voice will come on through.
I’ll watch tennis games for hours
And some baseball here and there,
But it’s not within my powers,
Citing basketball, to care.
Still, to hear a drought has ended,
Fifty-three long years of thirst,
Revelry must be extended
As that pent-up joy’s dispersed.
New York City’s set and ready
For the ticker-tape parade
And the sky will rain confetti,
All poetic doubts to fade.
She looked ancient when I knew her.
I knew no one who befriended her.
I knew no one who bothered her.
She was bold and fearless;
Annoying, but not disrespected.
It was duly noted by me that
My grandmother did not like her.
She was not a transient but a resident.
I never heard from where she came
Nor where she went when she left.
In our community were haters and lovers.
We were moral, immoral, and immortal.
We were drunkards and tetolers.
We were Christians, sinners, and hypocrites.
We were abusers, abused, and amusing.
We were gamblers, hard workers, and hustlers.
She was a first class high ranking 'Holy Roller'.
She was harmless but always alarming,
When we heard her shout, 'Holy!'.
God made a woman
To be a companion for Adam
So, he won't be alone
He is to love, provide and
Respect her, God didn't make
So, she would be mistreated,
Disrespected, beaten and use
As a sex toy
Trapped in a cage, viewed as animals
Plot twist - they were actually humans
Mocked, laughed at, seen as jesters -
Except it wasn’t entertainment -
Just pure cruelty,
To them it was a joke,
For us it was a humiliation ritual
No autonomy, no freedom, no rights
They were reserved only for the whites,
Our skin was the target of bullying,
Disrespected, as if being black meant we were the enemy
To them we were,
To them we were ‘inferior’ -
Just a means to an end for their enjoyment -
Like a comedy show, where we are the comedian,
Except we don’t have to speak to be funny,
They saw our skin as a hilarity -
Their idea of fun, was our suffering
If the conditions were to kill us,
They would see it as a bonus,
Rating our deaths as if it were a performance,
Conditions in the cages were poor,
But the treatment of us - even poorer,
To the oppressor it didn’t matter, as long as they were continuously entertained,
They were happy
I heard the strum of a guitar today
thought of you, it made my eyes well up
why did I leave? What was I thinking?
Was I out of meds? I dare not replay my exit
I fear I was cruel, my words harsh and mean.
We had such a marvelous time together those first years
But I felt stale, moldy, dank, damp, disrespected
It is wimpy to say “it was not you, it was me”
But I believe it was
Not sure if you were real now, or an illusion.
Remember the race to the thirteenth floor on the North Building?
I could barely stand up, and you were still sprinting
Your face was precious.
You had such a lovely ambiance that day
I fell in love with the idea of falling in love
Today I saw a tiny toddler in a pink dress
She reminded me of our plans to have a family
I wonder if you will find the love of your life and follow through?
I was not that person
I believe you know that now. I hope you do.
Humility is to apologize although it's rejected
Showing respect although you're disrespected
Being humble isn't something most practice in daily life
Most people focus on who was wrong and who was right
Humility is the hardest quality of character to apply
Imagine being honest with a person who constantly lie
Humility can be shown if assisted by the quality of love
You can't have one without the other their hand and glove.
Forgiveness is another sign that displays the quality of humility
To forgive and forget isn't something that's beyond our ability
We're taught by human nature to be on top and be elevated
That if you allow yourself to be humiliated that you'll never make it
Constant competition among the people in the world to be flawless
Pumped up ego, to be conceited, always being presumptuous
We do all of this just to be knocked back down to ground level
Is it really worth it to imitate the characteristics of the devil?
Written By: D. Collins 5/8/25
After tariffs upon the world an American Pope is elected.
Does it have anything to do with how we're so disrespected?
Maybe it's the world's way of trying to reign Chaos in.
While Chaos will expect the Pope to personally visit him.
Does The Pope have knowledge of the petafiles within the church?
Did he participate or look away, for fear of who it would hurt?
Oval Office visit plans are most likely currently underway.
Chaos must have that photo shoot to add to his resume.
Religion and politics are intermingled during these times.
We've had a week of Pope coverage, while Isreal takes Palestine.
It kind of makes you wonder, where has the Christ Love been?
Those deported and dying just happen to be of darker skin.
Another Spanish Inquisition of adopt my religion or die.
The only difference is that it is twenty-twenty-five.
When Chaos pics with a Bible and The Pope.
The world's People of Color really have no HOPE!
We’re at this place where we thought we’d never be.
The world crashes down around you and me.
The dreams that we made and the promises that we did keep.
Will soon be ash of the power that runs too deep.
The world is full of fools and that includes both you and I. We create pain to hurt ourselves and pollute the sky. We’d suck blood to survive then drive a stake through our own heart. Rather than feel disrespected we’d rip eachother apart.
We’re at the place we’d thought we’d never be. Killing pure, innocent love in the name of human insanity.
Lot’s wife
Abraham’s wife
Studebaker’s wife
First lady, no name
Women are chattel
To be owned and toyed with
Really?
Is that what we want our daughters and granddaughters to know?
Is this how we want them to feel about themselves?
That they could be put into box cars with pigs by their men?
I roll my eyes at the stupidity of history.
Let’s make the history books fair, the men say.
Let’s put one article about a woman at the back of each chapter.
So, the history books now have one hundred and fifty pages about men.
And twelve pages about women.
Equality and fairness.
I hope the girls of today understand
They can become women now, not merely be girls all of their lives.
Difficult since most will figure out they are being disrespected
In every academic history book.
Snowing-- a hiemal, deathly air
Their frigid, frostbitten fingers hold nothing
Uncomfortable silence washes over all there
A petalless, thorny rose someone is clutching
Her corpse, defunct, stiff yet motionless
Skin, once warm brown, now ghastly
Her grinning face, now emotionless
They thought she would die lastly
Life has limits, death endures eternity
From her loss, not a single tear was shed
She, a daughter, never within confraternity
No one ever cared to hear the words she said
So she lay, her arms crossed against her chest
No flowers were dropped upon her frail body
Instead, the thorny rose stabs her breast
Unhuggable cacti she could embody
On her prickly torso, blood streams
No one shall wipe liquid and spikes off
No one shall pay respect, it now seems
They simply do not really care; they scoff
So there she’ll lay, unloved and disrespected
With not blooms and gold, but many a thorn
Only snow showers her, quite expected--
That no one would dare to mourn.
She never cleans me
I thought he might break down and do it
Because I have seen him wash up the microwave
And yesterday he rinsed the sink
I am smelly, sticky, and irritated.
There is crusty gunky stuff in my basement
Drips of ketchup and syrup have hardened on my shelves
I feel disrespected, dishonored, disheveled
And I am disgusted
Here he comes to get something
If I could hide it I would,
Maybe it would force him to clean me
Deep sigh as he rumbles around in the Tupperware
He finally locates the cheese that he wanted
Why don’t you say something? Milk demands.
I don’t talk human, I tell him.
None of the refrigerators do.
Noah commissioned a wee dove as his ocean scout.
It ventured out three times seeking sprigs of life.
On the third try, it brought back hope to all mankind.
I would have chosen an albatross for the task.
It's more suited for gliding over open ocean.
With its keen, salty eyes and great wingspan.
It could have done the deed in half the time.
Perhaps the dove was more efficient and intelligent.
Maybe the albatross lacked focus and discipline.
Been tempted by the sirens of fog and froth.
Did it feel disrespected for not being commissioned?
Chronically depressed, deep in the ribs of Noah's Genesis ship.
You sit upon me all the time
as you compose your latest rhyme.
Yet, you never deign to admit,
it's - what's the word? No, that's not it.
It's time you give me some credit.
Yet, I never make the final edit.
Consider me a hero, unsung,
on which the taint of disregard is flung.
It comes from high, it comes from low.
Don't compare me to driven snow.
It is a thankless job for sure,
so, I wouldn't use that metaphor.
Your poetry makes your guest vomit?
Sure - use me, but don't use Comet.
I ask you with an ironic smile,
Won't you clean me once in a while?
It's time this missive comes to an end,
your disrespected ceramic friend.
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