ABSENCE
Pay attention to the unavailability,
the unavailability is the most missing inconvenience of all.
Does the unavailability make you shiver?
does it?
A presence, however hard it tries,
Will always be availability.
Does the presence make you shiver?
does it?
When I think of the inability, I see a lack of mental ability.
Incompetence, incompetence, incompetence.
Just like a want, is the paucity.
Dearth. dearth, dearth.
I saw the the emptiness need of my generation destroyed,
How I mourned the deficiency.
Does the deficiency make you shiver?
does it?
Pen Name- @Phoenixxx_Diaryyy
He tainted her love for me
She allowed him to be her
Confidant a position where
He could hear expressions
And than be kind to her
So he would be needed
Than she would see future
In her need for him
Then he would be person with her
Kind, sweet, and caring
I have allowed the smutey filth. Of hell
To dirty my the once lavish gardens of love
Might I find sanity in worship
To restore .my faith in the human creature
We talked today after a long, long time.
I was mostly listening, and I can do that better, I think.
She was worried about me. Anxious and agitated
“Please read the holy book every day,
Recitation of holy scriptures will keep the evils
Of our minds away,” she said.
Those words of divine revelations,
The opening,
The people of the cave.
Lives of ancient people with the glory of ancient times.
I am mostly invisible these days.
Kids laugh and play, and sleep
They do their homework
With or without me.
I wander in my invisible self
without any clue for a quick fix.
My little one was laughing, giggling the other day
"Why can’t you take me in your lap?” He asked.
"You are growing up, that’s why,” I answered.
He shrugged and went away.
I attended a webinar about writing poems today
I asked a question on the chatbox
And felt I went to my invisible phase again, probably
It happens quite often, at least some days are like that.
Right now, sunlight is touching my cheeks, I could feel.
Pouring words just started swirling, which would help me to forget
My ability and inability, altogether.
Credibility and Inability
Credibility
And the inability
To have such a thing.
Sure seems to be the up and
coming style of the political
world.
Jim Horn
She has overwhelmed me with her love
My love is not for legs
Not only her skin texture
The properly shaped head neither
Her thoughts can entrance
Those of a woman without disability
They say I am accursed
That loving her is abominable
Yet they admire the outward look only
And ignore her for her outward look
Like disables are barren and disrespect her inward beauty
They thought she would not conceive
And now they wonder
They ask me, “How did you make it?”
For our son is healthy and sound
Now they know, disability is not inability
Constant resentment,
Inability to live,
Free from the damaged.
I was born without a voice to sing, but I sing every chance that I get;
I was born with having two left feet, but I’m out dancing every step;
I was born without an artistic bone, but I love painting portraits of the sunset;
Being born without ability hasn’t stopped me from doing anything, yet.
I was born without athletic form, but, in sports, I love to compete;
I was born without a musical ear, but my guitar makes me complete;
I was born without intelligence, so a few classes I had to repeat;
I was born without a lucky star, but I won’t give up in the face of defeat.
If you only do those things that you do well, you are missing out on so much more;
I won’t be disgraced by coming in last place, was a promise that I once swore;
So, come along and join me now, in something you don’t do so very well;
We’ll have some fun and everyone who doesn’t like it can go to hell!
What makes us feel our inability?
is it our knowledge that
our imperfection
will be our downfall?
or is it that
we are in Gods image
but not his life
his perfection.
what is our
downfall
besides
death?
Emotions fall to meaningless cliché
attempting to unravel lover’s mind,
and plummeting through endless fields of grey
though vibrant you, poetic threads unwind.
Obstructed by the trials two lives have brought,
the beauty seeks its eloquent release;
expression, though we surely have been taught,
will fail when all poetic urges cease.
The promise made, ensuring we survive
stirs not the timeless scribble of the pen,
though every small betrayal so alive
does beckon me to empty page again.
The passionate alone can drive the quill;
as such, it seems my pain is stronger still.