#Grateful
Some ghosts in me evacuate,
long buried hope,
some shattered smile on a bare surface,
long dessertted, untainted human trait
Unconditional love and humanity
She said she prayed for me
Prayed that I do good in life
Prayed for my safety and success
Prayed I be better and well
Her knee to the ground
Her palm to palm
Her heart projection
Her compassion
And most her love.
Broke in me, chains of fear
Shackles of faith
Dungeons of freedom
Felt safe in her presence
Assured in her intentions
Written with ink in her fate
My heart is sealed
Never felt safe and
homely, away from home
and far from my mother
And there she is loving me
Unconditionally assuring me
In this with her wholesome
Grateful for the prayer
My mother Prayed
For me to have her in my life
Grateful for being there
In every up and downs
In every joy and celebrations
In every laughter and tears
Grateful for being loved
The correct way
Best way
Unconditionally so
Grateful for the blessing you are in my life
I'm Grateful
#Poetic_Ink
Humans are dots on a map
For system of geolocation
For the total control
And the calculation
Privacy, freedom is lost
Hacking their grouping dynamo
King Iguana Guantanamo
And satellite does the targeting
For politics geo and marketing
Analysis of atmosphere
Their the rich and their fear
Migration's migraine of the states
Many on TV debates
Opinions can be disproved
True argument requires the proof
UDHR lost appeal
Such associations aren't real
The naivete and naive
Messages they do receive
Evacuate all the rats
The intuition of bats
No solace evolving in space
This isn't the prison
It's base
For metaphors literate
Right should they have
Of no being unit strategic
The individual level is sad
Search for your soul you eejit
The orders were clear and for unknown reasons I was in charge given a loaded pistol and commanded to send everyone to a central area 5 kilometers away the enemy with overwhelming strength was already on the outskirts of our city pillaging plundering and taking prisoners within my designated area schools homes and businesses were were open and occupied schools were easy to evacuate students quickly complied homes were more challenging as some refused to leave orders were to let them stay if resisting as time was not forgiving force only to be used as defense if physical safety was compromised animals were allowed those unable to evacuate were to be left behind services were promised to be available at the gathering location transport vehicles were random and uncomfortable alerts were communicated through various media my dream ended when I woke up I noticed towards the end of my dream I was in stocking feet and regretted not putting my boots on I wanted it to go away to be like before I didn't like being mean to people
Not my jamm
It took the black magic years
To earn the hand-me-down crown —
A crown admired by eager successors
In this hypocritical town.
It took only a minute,
A second to be specific,
To evacuate the soul from his body,
Leaving his carcass behind, rotting in hell.
You're Always Welcome
To Evacuate...
From:
The Doo-Doo-Drop Inn!
-Gray Squirrel
In the shadow of the Palisades, where fire ambers flicker and burn/
cities ignite, nevermore to excite never to return/
neighborhoods wrapped in a storm, memories won't fade/
evacuate, evacuate, fleeing through the storm of smoke/
Children with no schools to embrace, "Mommy, where will we live?"/
innocence lost, crying in the ash/
Santa Ana winds howl, destruction painted in flames, each blaze a beast, ripping apart the heart of L.A/
A symphony of sorrow, where pets wander, cats and dogs, faithful companions, lost in the chaos of an apocalyptic event/
Men and women, firefighters, first responders, heroes draped in resilience, charging into the inferno, with hearts ablaze, fighting for the fragile, for the life that flickers In the depths of despair and rage/
Charging into the flames, Brave souls weaving hope through fire and smoke/
The Unwanted
I walked in the forest near the village
I wasn't feeling well, my stomach extended
unable to evacuate for days
Suddenly it was time
Sat under an olive tree for a while, got up
relieved, but when I turned to see
I saw a perfectly form baby made of bodily
waste, a bronze statue
I had seen this being before in a grotto, in
the Athens of a baby looking like Jesus in
his is a crib, who opened his eyes and grinned
like the devil, several nuns fainted
My baby also opened his eyes and made vulgar
sign and grinned
I fled the scene
What else could I do, take this contamination
hug it to my chest, wrap it in a blanket
take it home, clean its sin, beg forgiveness
for murdering a baby
We hear about the hurricane
But we are miles away.
My family won’t evacuate -
They think they’ll be okay.
There’s nothing we can do from here
Except to sit and wait
And hope their instincts prove them right
And that they’re not too late.
So many storms are not as bad
As weathermen predict,
So maybe Mother Nature has
Got everybody tricked.
We needed to evacuate because
the sandbags we put down were not enough
to hold the rising tide; how bad it was.
We had to flee our homes, which was so tough
because we didn’t know what we would find
after the floods. Would our homes be destroyed?
To think of that, I nearly lost my mind.
Were any of us able to avoid
a lot of damage? All that week we prayed.
Then with trepidation, we traveled back.
When my home’s interior I surveyed,
I hoped not to have a panic attack.
Praise be to God, for the damage done to all
of my friends’ homes and my own house was small.
Those New Gods
evacuate the violence
simulating patience
they were once created
to guide us, they overtook us
snapped our heads off
every time we thought of violence
Those New Gods
came to reconcile us
with the act of servile silence
we lay down let them take us
like we were beacons
hearts captitulated in black boxes
without god heads or sirens
Those New Gods
with voices like cured codex
placed us like cellos
between steel tight legs
we were smaller violins
our bows vaccuous and vain
crushed on Love
from the Tree
we were plucked
divineless
Candide Diderot. ‘24
I evacuate
sitting on a throne
of waste…
till something live
emerges – taking
inspiration, wherever
it comes from…
the writer strains
filling bowls
and wastepaper baskets
inspiration navigating
internals and beyond
I am a Literary Proctologist
claiming from recycles
deciphering bottomless spirit scents
It would be fine indeed,
if we could wash out the mind
each morning.
Thoughts get stale,
the mind like an air deprived swamp,
begins to stink,
and the only way
to go out into the world anew
is in the same way
our souls came into it.
It is wise to swill and pour,
flush and evacuate,
drain and empty,
tip and spill,
ejecting all that collected piss
we’ve been carrying around,
for so many yesterday -
that overfull pot
we call our feelings.
The storm wind whipped
The drive to the store was skipped
The windows boarded
A sigh of relief when the storm is thwarted
Citizens evacuate
Debris includes a gate
The wind blows
Fear shows
When will it hit
In a town it will sit
Homes destroyed
Rescuers deployed
Tears of sorrow ultimately prevail
Boats turned over, no longer will sail
Lives turned upside down
No smiles, only frowns
The government will step in
Rebuilding will begin
This day I went in public
Through a parking lot,
Where I passed an angry man
His temper had been hot.
Though this had alarmed me
I continued on my way,
Thinking of the nasty words
The bad man had to say.
Suddenly felt weary
Miserable inside,
So I focused on my breathing
Fastened up my stride.
When I turned a corner
From the filth and vile,
A gentleman appeared and
Past me with a smile!
Oh how they're special people
The angels in disguise,
Who lift my very spirit
They come with much surprise.
As fast as they appear
They evacuate,
Though not before they do their thing
Leaving you feel great.
Captivating strangers
With their cheerful charm
Consider them a blessing
For never doing harm.
This day I was reminded
Good people are not gone,
As random acts of kindness
Will always be passed on.
Shield of great representation,
Captain America must be proud.
Built to fight off all mutations,
Fear, is in the eyes of the crowd.
Red, blue, white and steel,
enemies' fail to duplicate thee.
Often times, they are made to kneel,
others evacuate, vanish or flee.
It bares no solid competition,
no sword comes close to compare.
Its speed bears unlimited conditions,
made for its owner, exclusively rare.
12 July 2022
Sponsored by Robert James Liguori
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