Those who are tough lived long enough
(from puerile juvenile to senile immobile)
to become on the world's bum a boil
in the very end my good friend old chum
will finally shuffle off their mortal coil
go to the dogs then pop their clogs
come to some harm and buy the farm
get a leg out check out peg out
or as bad luck would have it kick the bucket
when they give up the ghost and they're toast
if they were an eskimo
we'd sit them out on the ice and snow
but we're humane we do maintain
ne'er more to roam we condemn them
for life to an old folks' home
where the infirm may wither and dither
hanging around dwindling down
until the day they f-fade away
On a cold morning, heavenly dew kissed his nest,
the wind hummed a song he knew not.
He sat alone, his tiny chest burdened with grief.
Mama had been his shield, his rock,
and now, she was gone, never to return.
He gave the vast world a glance,
a void that he wished to explore.
But fear whispered into his ears,
its talons digging deep into his heart.
With death knocking, he was out of time.
His claws trembled at the edge of the nest,
the swirling abyss below waiting to swallow him.
a voice whispered to him, stay,
but this time he knew the voice was wrong
he leapt
To his surprise, the sky embraced him.
as he glided smoothly
The cold breeze rushed past his feathers,
with rays of the sun illuminating his path
The world had received him with open arms.
It was a new dawn
Don’t be juvenile his wife said
Forgetting for a moment who she married
I thought this noxious pain would abandon my agonized heart after a while
I thought if I could write better it would ease on me
Maybe my tacks were wrong,
I couldn't find my way to exist, still a character of a juvenile
They mocked my will, my reasons, my need to smile
No matter how old, never will be mature enough
I came the last, cried a bit much, been called the spoiled infant
They refused to see the unpleasant substance runs in my veins
That I was a bit too lonesome, compared to the rest.
I tried to hold onto the little ones, they arrived long after me;
Even my eager attempts were not solid enough for them to see.
Now I found my company, he took my solitude, turned "I" to "we"
All I needed is his camaraderie, only his devotion, love, caring
Still feels too great to ask a little sympathy,
From the ones who stood before me
Never have the right to feel, just a naive employee.
"You need to grow up!"
Critic said. "Why, buttercup?"
Friends serene, still fun
Loving with my honey bun,
Sprinkle magic across all years,
Not to worry, with cheers,
Forty years later, your spell,
Love more heaven than hell,
Guess we're still juvenile,
Admire you and your smile,
Benefits glow, like the sun,
Golden years with my one!
That loving feeling ever sought,
Our bliss is never bought.......
In streets of struggle, where poverty reigns
A youthful cry, with futures in chains
Limited options, and resources scarce
Leads to desperation, and a troubled stance
Low-income homes, with stress and strife
Parental struggles, and a child's lost life
Unmet needs, and unfulfilled dreams
Fuel the fire, of juvenile schemes
Education's key, but doors are locked
Opportunities scarce, and futures blocked
Jobless parents, with no way to provide
Leave children vulnerable to the streets' tide
Neighborhoods plagued, by crime and fear
Youthful energy, misdirected here
Gangs and violence, a deadly allure
A false sense of belonging, in a world obscure
Socio-economic chains, that bind and sway
Influence choices, in a troubled way
Delinquency rises, as hopes decay
A cycle of strife, in a world gone gray
Break the chains, and lift the veil
Provide opportunities, and education's sail
Empower families, and communities too
To give youth a chance, to make a brighter hue.
How would you feel,
If you went home today
To find a strange creature
Had entered your cave
While you were away?
How would you feel,
If the door to your cave
Had been kicked in by a kid
Who just could not behave?
Would you rumble and roar
Or just rant and rave?
You would you feel,
If you looked in your bed
To find sleeping there soundly
A wee human head?
Would you be angry?
Would you see red?
How would you feel,
If some golden-haired brat
Had gobbled your supper
And shattered the chair where you always sat?
What would you do?
How would you handle that?
No one would blame you,
If you got really mad
With a dimpled-faced terror who destroyed all that you had.
That’s how many would feel, but
Isn’t it sad
That no one had taught her
How not to be bad?
Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde
Jovial Dr Jekyll played for juvenile Justice
a just jaspered journey
jokingly jumped a joyride
to juicy jukebox jabbering
in jackal jackboots
from nearby jungle
Dr Jekyll clasped a jackknife eating
jambalaya to justify a
juggled juxtapositional
jurisdiction jamming
as jugular vein jingled jewels
joyfully jauntily jaywalking
to a jay named Jim Jolly !
Onward he jumped to a
Jungian junction
Jupiter jocund watching his
journeying joints
journalese seemed a jibe jig
but neither Jewess, Jesuit
or jeweller jiggled this job
So he jerked his jess
like a jape for Japan
Jejuning onto January for the
next jangle of jasmine
No jellyfish was Dr Jekyll in Jordanian jerkin
though sometimes Mr Hyde
with jeroboam swirling alongside !
Obstacles and affection
contradictory pleasure
casual teenage love
Jinxed juvenile slithers, withers unseen.
Feeling the angst of earlier guilt trips,
A Christian conscience and its censorships -
this golden-haired boy was not born to glean.
Mind colored from purloined men's' magazine;
(note purplish stains too on his fingertips).
Jinxed juvenile
Money, pills, small stuff pilfered by this teen
unearned awards, past moral radar blips,
deserved the harsh words from preacher-dad's lips.
Now bold-faced curse slips, as his face turns green.
Jinxed juvenile
October 12, 2022
contest: Rousing Rondine
sponsor: Jeff Kyser
Baby Rick Gets Into Honey
Sticky
Ricky
Happy Home Boy
Gladdie
Laddie
Pizza Face
Simply
Pimply
Seasonal Track Star
Winter
Sprinter
What Jiminy Got For Speeding
Cricket
Ticket
April 15, 2022
20 minutes
that is 120 weeks in prison
2 years, 3 months, 2 weeks and
20 minutes to get locked up
20 minutes to fingerprint you
20 minutes to process you
120 weeks in prison is
2 years, 3 months, 2 weeks
and 20 minutes.
20 minutes was longer than it took to get lost
120 weeks
42 days before court gave me
120 weeks - 6 weeks in the hole before trial.
6 weeks in the hole with 3 minute shower timer
week four got me in the deeper hole
I met my 10th grade teacher in the hole
23/1 is no joke. turning 10th grade was prison.
I was 790 weeks old.
15% of my life at age 15 was put in the whole. thats more than half a quarter of my life that was decided because I rubbed a child.
that 120 weeks was not fun, but I was the queerest girl in moolock lodge. I got raped, I almost got sent to a group home. all in 120 weeks - the 6 weeks
lets do some more solitary - add the last 5 weeks, add 15 weeks lets call it 20 weeks so
26 weeks doing 23+1 solitary punishment
is almost 6 months
in solitairy confinement
what was your first detention experience?
Chanting for the jewel in the heart of the heart of the lotus
Ohm mani padme hum
I bite the invisible neon green
cast off
which protects my broken wrist
flushing bits down the mirror or
chrome toilet of the tomorrow
It has stopped suddenly
this day has no meaning when idly tearing away
the chips of broken plaster from my arm
they are unlike the cement walls
surrounding me in the cubicle of solitary days
A new home, vacated by the oldest delinquent
who stayed far past my time
with hair falling out with calm disregard
for the age we all feel our time has skipped
pretending to have cancer
is one excuse
Kswiss kills Sp!cs and Crips
and nobody
this skinned head preaches too
no choir boys
shaved and disengaged
I have no chemo clues
its time to dance
to play to laugh
I cant remember you
for once you were
my friend in school
that boy with cancer
beating it but
losing sight
I see no fear
in truth it's not your plight
Relations are strained between nations as usual
Why can't we play nice like good little poopers
Stead of rattling our rattles
Preparing for battle
An age-old scenario where we all act juvenile
Green confettis on barren boughs with advent of spring
As winter flees on warm nature's wings
Splurge of hues by angels beyond painted horizons
To cascade on shy petals as nectarcups widen
Bumble bees songbirds waver in ripples of mirth
Sprouts green inferno from white blanket of earth
Soft breeze sways through nascent green bushes
Rivers murmur mild as vernal spring pushes
Butterflies on harlequin wings flutter beneath fresh skies
Old frail winter curled rims for yearly goodbye
Of rays icy shadows streamed through air
Juvenile spring trapezed for it's share
Faces with happy eyes bustling on streets
On crests of spring my tossed zeal indiscreet
17/02/2019
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