We had a weeny dog
As short as he was tall
He faked being sick
For attention he’d get
Vet said he’s fooled us all
My eyes scan the map of our lives –
lived experiences – etched across my grandma’s face.
And her eyes look right back.
But not the same;
The light that once danced to old jazz tunes,
and bold classic blues, that light that is extinguished by name tags at Christmas
donning the shirts of which she herself bestowed the identity.
‘I am sixteen’ I tell her,
again,
and she nods along, but that light does not quite gleam,
dimmed by the brain that cannot stay clean
and I find myself pointing at faces of which she is the blueprint.
Her fingers follow mine,
shaking,
as she tries to recreate, copy what cannot be faked
and I stifle a sob as I find my head bobs as she asks if I am okay.
Silence strangles my words
the way dementia does hers,
and I want to scratch at the very back of my throat the way she wants to remember the name of her firstborn:
An itch that will not be itched.
Not by her pretences or attempted defences, for she does not
remember
faces or names but her love remains, backed only by the assumption that
she should.
For she does not remember the family secrets that her brain will not
reveal –
not even for the sake of this family appeal.
Today I measured, chopped and baked
And all from scratch, with nothing faked,
From old familiar recipes
I know, to varying degrees.
The matzoh balls I shaped, as well,
(The soup, however, made by Mel*)
And last, charoses** was prepared
With not one nut or apple spared.
The kitchen’s not my natural spot,
But on the holidays, I’ve got
The need to potchke*** so I feel
Connected to this ancient meal.
My husband asked me why I fuss,
A question worthy to discuss,
Yet all that I can say, for me,
Is this is how it has to be.
For even if nobody cared
About these dishes I have shared,
I’ll keep traditions up, unbowed
And know my grandmas would be proud.
*my husband **a dish for the Passover meal
***fiddling or messing around, especially regarding cooking
Colour of States Truth? By Abdul Haye Amin.
“As always nation act as blinds and deaf to spoil my days,
until where struggle in life and endless prosecutions and tears by,
all color of nationalities not to drive the States.
As I ever dreamed faked in this world of love,
day before Yesterday Those who regarded my enemy,
and neglected once for day of freedom of truth.
For not myself nor for this world but for,
my own cast and for my peoples,
the price of my pain ashes in my vain,
without surprise in Judgment in the Kingdom.
where impossible in nature colour of my vision of dream
as 'Nelson Mandela' at last revealed as,
'Bongo Bandhu' of Bangladesh in volume not in weight?
I therefore, nothing to be proud of myself today for,
my dear Lord on earth?”
By Bilingual's Author Abdul Haye Amin.
That morning she faked a smile on her face,
And she tried to carry her worries with grace,
When she walked to the altar next to her dad,
Her heart was sore, and scared and sad.
When she entered the church and they played the hymn,
She entered a world that belonged to him,
The song and the people were there to remind
Her of everything she had to leave behind.
She was wearing a beautiful white dress,
A symbol of desires she had to suppress,
Her innocence was her family's pride,
And she couldn't lose it til she became a bride.
And now, after 60 years and a lot of wars
Women can vote, be leaders and mentors
Women can have sex with many different men
They can get divorced and get married again.
If she was here now, she wouldn't understand
That we can do today what was once widely banned,
That marriage means love and shouldn't be forced,
And love sometimes dies, and people get divorced.
I wish she could see
That she changed the world for me so I can speak,
She helped me be free,
And I'm strong today because she was once weak.
NO FEAR OF WISEHUY DONALD MASSIMO PELLEGREN FAKED HIS DEATH IN FORT MYERS TO CONTINUE DOING HITS FOR THE MON RUNNING THE WISCONSIN WOMANS PRISONSADLY MASSIMO DECIDED TO IMPERSONATE MY DECEASED FATHER BORN 9.14.1942 CHICAGO WHY SIMPLE LOOKING FOR MY GRANDFATHER HERITAGE SERVING IN ROME SEVERE IDENTITY FRAUD UPON VETERANS AND THEIR FAMILY GAMBINO HITMAN HIDINGBOUT IN DETROIT RUNNING PRISON GAMES THE MAFIA'S HORROR SHOW SEVERE DEATH THREATS HITMEN ATTACKING DISABLED MOTHER ATTEMPTING TO RACKETEER MY AMERICAN POETRY EMBEZZLING A TRAUMATIC BRAIN INJURY CLAIM ON MY BEHALD FORD MOTOR COMPANY THIS WISEGUY GARMENT DISTRICT HITMAN FAKED HIS DEATH TO BECOME MY FATHER IRONICALLY OBSESSED WITH 1942 MY FATHERS BIRTH DATE
Every time, I pick up the phone
Ones I love are never home
Or they want me to leave them alone
Sometimes, I just want to talk
Or for someone to take me for a walk
I can never depend on them for spiritual elevation
Or some type of positive motivation
The times I prayed for my last breath
No one helped me from falling to my death
The times I ached down to the bone
They faked not being home
Oh God, what about me?
He said, “All you have to do is give me a ring”.
I help billions strong and still have time
For you and everything
You’ve cried in pain until you were dizzy
But call on me, I am never too busy
We never faked it
always keeping it real
When we get, we ball
When we don't have, we work hard
Life is dually; High or low
Good or bad times, win or lose
We're always ready for anything.
No racing with any
Steadily thriving in our lane
Because we've got no mate
Never to be limited, we're unlimited
For we got taste, depending on our fate.
Zero competition
No confusion
We pray with faith
Showing no hate
For we know our weight
Even without debate.
WITH HER RARE FLYING WINGS
Desiring to soar,
She waved her sage rainbow wings;
Peacocking the yard:-
She faked a hopscotching flight,
Strutting her well-winged buttocks.
Gave you my heart and hoped you could save it, Always giving bits and pieces of myself to someone who doesn't care, and it ain't fair.
Always expecting the most
From someone who isn't there.
But that's life, and I know
It takes more than once to get it right.
At the moment, it feels like I'm losing this fight.
Empty promises are all I ever got from you,
Thinking of what I could do to get that love back from you.
But let's face it, I should've known from the beginning you faked it.
I wish you never would've looked my way s**t, got me out here feeling basic.
But it was really you that ain't s**t. So I'm giving a rose to the brokenhearted Because my dearly beloved has departed.
To all those who know my pain,
I hope it never comes again,
'Cause we're better off in the end.
Your heart is not meant to be broken,
But opened for the love you deserve, and they'll show it.
Never should you have to question that love,
Because you'll know it.
And I pray you hold onto it,
And don't walk out before they prove it.
DEEP INSIDE A SHELL
With lyrics that do not connect
And no shiny surface to reflect
Odd choices one doesn’t expect
To get the meaning of that song
Perhaps you faked it far too long
All when living deep inside a shell
There’s no entitlement to respect
In messages that one can’t detect
It must be earned, albeit indirect
Can it be time to bang that gong
But just maybe I’ve got it wrong
All when living deep inside a shell
Talent that can be hard to detect
More a crouch than standing erect
Just the choice of words, in effect
Some of which just do not belong
Like one taking tricks in Mahjong
All when living deep inside a shell
How will we know
if we're close to an end?
How will we know
if part of the ending has already started?
From one chat away
to no chat all day
From being always updated
To being unattended
From more night talks
To no talk at all
From a guy whom I'm used to being cool
To a guy who turned icy-cold
It's hurting but can't do anything about it
Communication is fading when the feeling is about to bloom
Suppressed it, faked it, keep it in a dome
Can't confess, can't contront
Coz we don't have a label in the first place
People change, feelings fade
So I have to endure seeing this ends
One day will come and this will heal
Has to wake up, this can't be real
1.)
Not present at anything
Everything is just the same
Not many think about the portrait-less frame
I’ve had nothing
Feet buried in my ways
The man I’m becoming oughta be a phase
I can’t think straight
I’m sorting through your face
I’m fading away soon
Memories gone to waste
Afraid of the monsoon
Paint me with your abuse
I’m afraid of the sun too
Baked dry
My bed was home to a lagoon
I’m seeing my mum soon
Faked cries for help
She acted a pontoon
I’m needing my mum soon
2.)
I’m not sure of my age
A tar pit waits for me in my cage
I want more from what’s in this page
Mark it for when I’m feeling this strange
Life works out with minimal change
My face pale
My teeth bleeding
Life hurts our feelings all the same
Write down your pain
All you’re needing is to shift your blame
STOP SENDING ME TERRORIST THREATS YOU WERE HIRED TO IMPERSONATE ME AND COMMIT FRAUD WISEGUYS ARSON MURDER CIRO GARGANO HIS BROTHER PETER GARGANO WHO FAKED THEIR DEATH TO PAY OFF CORRUPTION AS BOB MARLEY WOULD SAY SKANKNESS BACK OFF STOP CORRUPTION DATA BREACH HACKING IDENTITY FRAUD INSURANCE FRAUD MAIL FRUAD WIRE FRAUD CYBER BULLYING I WILL NEVER FEAR DOMESTIC TERRORIST IN AMERICA JAHORE IN A WHITE TAHOE YOU ATTEMPTED TO EXTORT MY AMERICAN POETRY YOU ATTEMPTED TO ASSASINATE ME BECAUSE I WORE WIRES PREGNANT FOR THE FBI BUYING WEAPONS AND DRUGS FROM CORRUPTION TO INSURE ASSAULT WEAPONS NEVER EVER END UP IN THE WRONG HANDS JAMAICAN WOMEN WEARING RED DREADLOCKS CARRYING GUNS POINTING 9MM AT MY TOWNHOME DOORS BY GODS GRACE YOUR HITMAN WAS KILLEDVAT MY FEET TAKING DOWN PROFESSIONALLY JUST LIKE TRUMPS ASSASSIN MEXICAN ASUMANDEZ SOLTERO VIOLENT OFFENDERS WOMEN WITH BUTCHER KNIVES BLOOD WAS EVERYWHERE MY PRAYERS ARE WITH DONALD TRUMP MY WORK WITH THE FBI UNDER THE BRADY BILL STOP ASSASINATING AMERICANS INCLUDING CONFIDENTIAL HUMAN SOURCES I WILL NEVER EVER FEAR YOU GOD BLESS THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA
How can I trust you again?
You took my love for granted
You thought you saw something better
And ran off when the chance came
You’re vile lies
Slip through your soft lips
Your smile tries to bring me peace
But the words you say torment me
Is it right for me
To give you another chance
Is it wrong for me
To try and rebuild what we had
You faked your love before
How will I know it’s real?
Are you faking passion with poison
Will I succumb to it when it’s too late?
You’re telling me all these lies
Wrapped with golden truths
I know you loved me at some point
But I know it wasn’t enough to keep you
Are you here to be my companion?
Or
Are you here for my compassion?
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