Off to my shift at the mirage
Its feigned oasis has been dry since my arrival
And looks like it always was
The thirsty come to drink
Fistfuls of sand falling from cupped hands
Some think it a ruse
That we hoard what’s left for ourselves
Behind locked doors and hidden closets
That a lack of persuasion is all that bars them from paradise
Others trudge along, futility in their steps
Aware that if paradise existed
It has been scorched irreparably
Yet we continue
I looked in America’s mirror tonight
What I saw was only left or right
Reflecting a nation irreparably divided
With no desire to again be united
I longed for a touch, just a touch, of awareness
An admission that ‘I might once have been wrong’
What I witnessed was unbridled aggression
From each side, a fiercely combative song
I searched for a hint of humility
A confession: ‘Maybe I don’t have all the solutions’
What I beheld was feisty defiance
Candidates lip-syncing dubious science
I hungered for clear answers to questions
A yes that’s a yes, a no that’s a no
What I heard was ‘MY agenda is what to invest in’
Implied was ‘To hell’s where YOUR question can go…’
I looked in America’s mirror tonight
silently praying for some kind of light
What looked back was darkling belligerence
accompanied by saber-rattling dissonance
Not above the law no more Donald Trump
Let's see you tap dance out of this slump
Fined for almost a billion
Not even worth a million
Dance away while we high five and fist bump!
In the poor house now, his money captured
Tarnished karma irreparably fractured
Votes in spite his deceit
We all know he'll defeat
Nikki is nominee if Trump's raptured!
Not above the law no more Donald Trump
We'll no longer be fooled, I'm no chump!
Half a billion you'll pay
This just isn't your day
No more bending down to kiss your rump!
Then an angel of the Lord stood before them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were terrified.
—Luke 2:9 CSB
Little cherub with wee little wings.
Strawberries, crushed, enamor your cheeks
in Victorian fashion. Oft naked,
floating on chapel ceilings,
near the mother and babe.
Little cherub, not scary at all.
Magnanimous glory you do not seek.
You’d be squashed
if you weren’t so squeaky clean.
Like fleas on the shoulder,
the angelic and the devilish,
depending on mood
will be flicked away.
Little lambs cut a hole in their ghost costumes,
out comes their head,
then they don
a halo - oh, the little angel.
God puts up with such things
as sticky wings -
irreparably weak.
Heaven they don’t seek.
Said a cocky old gentleman from Kent
Whose mind was like irreparably bent
“I’m in tolerable shape
But I look like an old ape,
My bumper is shriveled, my fender bent."
FIRST PLACE WINNER
Written May 29, 2022
10/10/7/7/10 (HMS)
Submitted to "A Funny Limerick" Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Tania Kitchin
When I closed the door one last time
Turning to say my last good byes
You lay slumped in silence as I cried;
Where once you sparkled with honor and pride
Now, sadly, I leave you behind, alone
Destined for places unknown
Gathering the pieces of my shattered heart
Each a reminder of the hope we would never part
All the adventures we would take, on highways
And winding country roads over mountains that led to the sea
Through rainstorms and blizzards and hot blistery days
In daylight and darkness we were free
Then, on that fateful Sunday morning,
As we drove along happily in song
Our relationship stricken and irreparably torn
By a reckless incident that now, I morn.
Written for my daughter, whose sadness I share.
A few years into our exquisite
courtship
my beloved soulmate Sweetie crowns me
------ Silent Confidence
Aww, what a darling and delicious compliment!
My soul
forge a marriage between the two
Confidence and Silence
Silence and Confidence
irreparably bound together
Silence
one of the greatest vehicles through which to access Awareness
Confidence
the inward manifestation of consciousness
Springs from within
Carrying from within
America's
~ Media Anthem ~
A racist nation
God-forsaken
Irreparably divided
with enmity
and contempt
~ for all
My Future’s Past
“They” blame us for being the men,
in a sense (innocent), “we’re meant to be”. When “They” are the ones..
Changing our destinies,
And rewriting our history.
“They” blame us for the paths we take,
But pave the streets in our society.
Shackle us in chains, constrained.
Where we work for free, while not free,
In a system designed simply..
As a new incarnation of the evil,
Formlery known as Slavery.
In “The hood” “They” hide, too afraid
To face , their true identity.
Born to a home, devoid of mirrors .
Yet “They” indulge in the sin of vanity.
For God, how should I see Past their
Acts of genocide, when my Future is..
Hence•forth affected irreparably?
No matter what mountain I climb..
I’m stuck in this Sisyphean reality.
And the stone pushing me down,
Is the very one bragging at the ease
Of getting to the peak, before me.
Every Future has a Past,
And every chain has a link.
The links in my chain(DNA),
Have been altered because of my Past’s identity.
Therefore my Future if forever changed in history.
Increasingly isolated amid dreadful psychological scenery
Socially discarded and culturally abused
Exasperated loneliness coupled with vengeful anger
against those deemed the unapologetic perpetrators
Lacerations upon the mind
beginning to become infected
Irreparably scarring perspective
as well as poisoning the stream of consciousness
Stagnant and listless
despite writhing in existential pain
May as well be catatonic
when inaction becomes the only response
Healing requires painful recognition
Not the acknowledgment that society is the aggressor
But the assessment that I am my greatest detriment
And that I projected my depravity onto others who were innocent of such egregious allegations
He would mend and renew,
heal with glue, tack, and brush;
heads broken or blind
smiles cracked or erased, lips peeling.
Dolls bruised by too much love.
Some he brings back from dark places
their porcelain demons exorcised,
counter-curses sewn into scalp and labels.
At times he is more a fallen priest, secretly
wishing beautiful dolls could grow
into more adult dreams.
Then he would berate himself;
descend to his basement
to visit the forsaken,
the forever broken.
He stitches heavy winding sheets
about the irreparably maimed
and deformed,
so that the tortured
may not escape and turn to evil.
I have this feeling,
Kinda excited,
Little anxious.
Body on edge,
Sends my mind reeling.
Can't stop smiling.
Does he think of me I wonder?
Bit of a fumbler.
Blissfully daydreaming,
That first kiss,
Hmmmm,
Lips so tempting.
Enibriated confusion,
In total splendor.
Anticipation delightful,
Make it worth the wait,
Unfocused stares,
Playing tricks on my mind.
A delicious little escape,
That's all it will be,
Unfortunately.
Good enough for me,
Actually.
Can't sacrifice,
My dear heart,
That's right there on my sleeve.
Pinch of salt,
Grain of sand,
Arms length distance,
That's where he will stand.
Unexpected to say the least,
Turned out nicer,
However,
Still somewhat a beast.
Walls sky high,
Too high for just anyone
To reach.
Always on guard,
Protecting my heart,
Sadly irreparably scarred.
Nicely unexpected,
So, so nice.
So much smiles,
I even heard my own laughter.
In my head you'll stay.
That way,
We will never have to part ways.
She enters the room looking beyond her.
Wordless; lost in sentiment and alone.
But I am right here, always; forever.
Mumbling sweetness, such words I wish to own.
Refracted, immersed in intimation
Irreparably known by defeated.
Restless legs tapping intimidation.
How long must this cycle be repeated?
Pedestal lifted to enormity.
Disbelief selfishly inducing doubt.
All by my lonesome singing poor ole' me.
Fears form, time reveals no other way out.
My mind made, now my body in motion.
She leaves talking with silence misspoken.
9-17-16
Cool drops of water fall upon the rock
And slowly carve their way toward the sea
Much as existence, hastened by the clock,
Unfolds its wings, undaunted, soaring free.
Strange fancies yearn to take their flight and leave
The pit of slow, monotonous decay,
Though human will must bear its toil and grieve
While bound to shackles smothering their prey.
The beasts unleashed by nature never know
The cruel dilemmas baffling every mind
Held prisoner by worldly rules to grow
In covenants long settled by the blind.
The price of freedom rarely can be paid
While thoughts are trapped by reason in their cage,
Where nightmares and the arms of dread are made,
Though fear can’t turn a fool into a sage.
And, thus, existence lingers in the dust
From one illusion onward to the next,
While precious time and youthful looks are lost
And freedom is irreparably vexed.
Find my poems and published poetry volumes at www.eton-langford.com
How is it possible to be so lost,
so completely damaged,
to be so far gone,
yet no one can see the truth?
Is my facade so damn impenetrable,
my smile that genuine,
do I deserve the academy award
because no one can see the truth?
It seems implausible really,
that you could be this screwed up,
this irreparably broken,
and still no one sees the truth.
Perhaps they don't want to see,
or consciously acknowledge,
what's staring them in the face
and just refuse to see the truth.
Or maybe, they love me too much,
to admit I'm getting close to getting ghost.
Well, look closer dammit…
the truth might just save my life!
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