I'm so tired
and my heart
is beating
with
my conscious
of the things
with butterflies
in
my tummy
tossing
& turning...
Karma,
shall bring,
no reaching
high to bring
My Epilogue
before
I know
sleep won't bring.
I try imagining
a brick wall here,
like the one
I created
when I was young
and
never made a sound
of flying fists,
strangling
and baby teeth
went flying
waking
here
a little pile
of the bloody
thoughts
flashing
sunshine
to hide
and handcuffed
behind
that wall.
I became
now I wish
to become
not that
monster,
this poetry
is not
helping
and amiss....
I released
to try to be
a man
against his demons,
I really didn't
realized
the important
of a priest's
holy of sermon
and how
in a playground.....
God's word
becomes perverted
to corrupt
the innocent.
There's no colour
that's been drained
of the trembling
of the daisies
to roll
down
the waterfall....
And
the release
is the depths
of swimming
ashore
That wall
is built
and nothing
as he knows
humanity
is to die
and Jesus
will walk here.
Beached
moaning salty
of escaping
a predator's
wishing,
its better to die
or hoping
humanity
will push you back
my fellow dolphin
into the sea's
deep depths.....
It used to be
a faith
of those,
but
the wheels
are turning
to darkness....
the good,
un-rewarded
and the rickety
of a bridge
of the wharf,
measuring
of how
demons
can release
such
disgusting
of the things.....
A peace should belong
to angels' of voices,
but we are stuck
in a dirty mud
of our fantasy lands....
A dim light
still
holds sight,
we need
to realize
little voices
of the
children
can keep
that darkness
inflicting.
This world
is a curl
to anything
unless
we find
our voice,
before
we find
death
and PTSD.
Focus on the flowers
and not on media
so graphic,
but the bettering
not of how and here
we don't even exist.
But we still have
such a slamming
conscious.
Seduction as a means to engage
perhaps you welcome the playful naughty invitation
cautionary word ~ price may be high
Wordku: 5-7-5 words
We dream we can share our darkest secrets without judgement or retribution but realize we can only share them safely with others through our poetry.
Tonight, I will dream of you.
I dream we share our secrets
Indiscretions and hurtful pasts,
Told as gilded sagas
By immoral sociopaths.
I share to you with confidence
One of my poignant dreams.
A tale of stirring fantasy,
Images not as they seem.
Cold snakes coiled on soiled paths
They spring in naked truth
Biting hard at every turn
Retelling their violent youth.
Poised to prove their stranglehold
On phantom victims’ crimes.
It’s here we hide the willing sin
We’ve accepted many times.
As dreams become reality
Our thoughts embrace their role.
We resist the curse of others
Playing mind games in our soul.
Here I hunt for solitude,
And here I find my soul.
I search my heart within myself
To learn what I have always known.
The Sky came to Light, tonight.
Rumbled quietly, its might, tonight.
Soon such Truth was spilling down in
twilight rivers - washing fresh the birds, the stones.
We muddy, ragged, self-wounding Liars drowning.
Twilight rivers, taking hold by letting go.
In the newmade petrichor
we saw what we’d been before.
We each are truthsellers. We each are liars seeking Truth.
We are aging away from our birthright innocence, our youth.
Has the Sky ever lied to you?
To anyone?
Has the Earth ever offered falsity?
To anyone?
Can our breath, our step serve as Apology?
Can I be me, can you be you? Can we be true?
Her Death
-The trigger lay steady and sardonic in the hands of the ready stalker.
-She lays unaware , a spot for each grand representation of naiveness in her hair.
Full of innocence-didn’t even have chance to mature. For the hunter was to ensure the value of her fur, by stripping her bare of what she had earned.
-she was nothing more than her new found horror
show me the sand-bags
of altruist craziness
that you pretend
and lets not intellectually
shift through
grains of the sands.
I was the one
who convinced
you
and yet I'm the delinquency
of a friend knows so safety
of the pins within the blades
I can't pull your strings estranged....
a master of this so very strange...
I won't be on the train tracks
your boyfriend has no hacks
A boy imagined a world
of wrapped strawberries
without conflict
to the puppet on a string
And you released him here......
and no further harm
to his well-being...
He was always dead
to any and no well-being
He just doesn't know it..
The cities will be dead
as we are sitting
on our so called blames
and memories of shame
Are we to blame for
any of it
as children?
an idealization
Radicalization
Vigilantism
and for here?
I will be buried
but on my own terms.
I don't comply
to a so called
America of here
A president
who we all know
a demon resides there...
I don't know you
personally,
and I never will.,
hot flushes and chills,
are less of
a voice of mediation.
You never tried with a beat
just the cliche of a country's
of lonesome and the wheat....
Heart out of glass, my dear.
Don't give it to anyone, don't go near.
Humans like to break things.
I don't want you to be destroyed, like a useless vase.
Your heart must bloom like flowers.
Your soul must glow like the rainbows colours.
I don't want you to ache.
Don't want you to break.
You're too much worth for a heartbreak.
Your heartbeat must go on,
with the rhythm of life.
And I know, life has risks.
But only take the risk,
if you promise me you won't let anyone break the vase.
Your vase of love,
Your vase of life,
the vase of the kindest soul I will ever know in my life.
Never plan to leave me, please.
It's an honour to protect your heart of glass, your vase I have to keep safe.
Your heart of glass, clear as the sky without clouds, as the ocean, as the space, without any sound.
You're open like a book, clear to see trough -
but don't let any destroyer near you.
O soil of Gaza, within your belly lie the souls of our children,
Their flesh you consumed without a conscience,
Their blood runs deep into your hidden streams,
Yet you boast of swallowing their tender bones.
You paved a path for our their deformed limbs,
Without pity, you grant their innocence a bed.
We weep, yet you pretend our tears are sweat,
While you take joy in burying our children.
The bombs they hurl on your blossoms explode,
Cutting lives short, dismissing our children's future.
You turn their gun-shattered bodies into your fertility,
But of what use, when their limbs lie withered?
O soil of Gaza, vomit out the souls of these children,
—
in innocence they entered your gluttonous belly.
Their days are better above you than within you,
So why did you allow your greed to take them away?
(“Loyalty Merit Badge”, 2010, original oil)
For the Love of Dog
I think there’s a good and simple reason
Dogs are usually so friendly
And willing to trust and forgive
And that is because
Unlike us
They can’t see the bigger picture
They don’t hear the news we hear
About wars and riots, rapes and murders
And so they have no idea
Just how bad
The humanity they are conditioned to love is.
It makes me sad for these canines,
But it also makes me envious.
(9/14/25)
They are not headlines,
not numbers
stacked in columns of loss.
They are children...
running with paper kites
stitched from the scraps of yesterday,
drawing suns with broken crayons
on walls that no longer stand.
Their laughter once rose
above the call to prayer,
a fragile hymn
against the roar of falling skies.
Now, quiet shows them before their time
how to carry grief in tiny palms,
how to tuck emptiness close
as though it had been cradled in their chest all along.
Yet—
in the rubble,
a doll without arms still wears a smile.
In the dust,
tiny feet trace games
on streets the world has forgotten.
Hope is stubborn.
It hides in their eyes
flickering like a candle
protected from the wind,
whispering to us
if we tune our hearts to
their quiet voice,
...that childhood
should be a garden,
not a graveyard of dreams.
Remember them.
Not as shadows of war
but as children who deserve
to wake beneath an unbroken sky.
She got to wake up the next day
He didn't.
She got to live her life
He didn't.
She got to have her own family
He didn't
She lied
He didn't.
She admitted to the lie -
No repercussions
He was a black boy -
He got murdered
Carolyn Bryant,
A murderer
Emmett Till,
A victim
The courts awarded her due diligence
His family fled in fear, that it'd be repeated
Leaving their home, scared they'd be targeted
Their home a ghost to a child evicted
A system built to allow racism
Through the clouds, breezing trees
Angels dance to a song by thee
Dressed in white, wings of purity
Peaceful blissful golden clarity
Rays of light, bursts of laughter
Hopeful sunshine, forgotten thunder
Forever waltzing to sweet tunes
Flying higher than balloons
Innocence captured in their eyes
Always smiling, no need for cries
Never tainted, protected by power
Pedals can't be pulled from flowers
Gracefully singing along to the song
Heavenly sent, no burden belongs
Radiantly, comfortably children forever
From January to December.......
(“Enemy of the State Merit Badge”, 2011, original oil)
In The Morning
In the morning the house smells
Of the sandalwood scented candle
I burned all night
In honor of a slain patriot.
I wake heart still heavy
And it just gets heavier
When the news keeps coming in
Of how much his enemies despised him
And how they gleefully celebrate now.
It’s odd to think of sane people celebrating
The murder of a kind and just and righteous,
And may I say, pure soul.
It just goes to show where their hearts are
And where they are not.
Morning dawns on a new day
As hundreds of millions of Americans wake up
To what is now an openly declared war
Between good and evil, liberty and tyranny.
And somehow it feels like 1775
All over again.
(9/11/25)
A little drizzle of honey
A heart with pure intent
The fragrant scent of flowers
Sweetness ever present
Specific Types of Innocence Poems
Definition | What is Innocence in Poetry?
Poems Related to Innocence
righteousness, virtue, probity, uprightness, chastity, incorruptibility, purity, immaculateness, inculpability, sinlessness, guiltlessness, impeccability, incorruption, clean hands, clear conscience, stainlessness, simplicity, frankness, unfamiliarity, virtue, plainness, lack, freshness, ignorance, inexperience