Gods and angels went away
For an indefinite vacation
“We’re mere ideas anyway
Dignified by population”
Says God, who asked not to be named
“Nowadays it turns ridiculous
Politicians took our fame
Made up maliciously fastidious
All the simple laws we set
And this farcical state of affairs
Is the one we must protect
Though the mess they made is theirs
We, Gods, wash our hands of this
Devil’s game the people play
If they want us Gods be missed
Let them pave their hellish way”
Spoke the God, whose name’s not known
But one angel smiled and said
“Here’s my email and my phone
Ping me up if something’s bad..”
So I wrote her phone and email
Down in my book and slept
The wild wind lashed at our sail
All the way to my homeland.
The foghorn groaned through seas forlorn,
To mourn the scorn of a sailor sad and travel-torn;
Thrice-lashed, salt-bruised and storm-torn,
wishing his soul to be reborn,
when midnight's black and barbed thorn
was withdrawn by break-of-day at dawn.
one lash for being ragged and outworn,
one more for stealing the captain's corn
a third for old regrets too long worn
upon the sleeve, to worship and adorn.
Oh the how the forlorn
wear a foghorn
on their sleeves torn
to mourn,
torn to adorn,
torn to scorn,
torn to mourn-
with a foghorn!
Out in the park, lashed by rain
a girl, heart torn, cried under a hat
there in the ground, buried her Jane
an old brown manx, as flat as a mat
Pound for pound, not pretty but plump
Marcus, the neighbor, two pies, not enough
fast to the market, tripped over a stump
Jane at his feet took her last puff
can you guess which pumpkin is mine? Barbie says to us.
No idea, lies Auntie Mame, Uncle Henry and my dog Gus.
I roll my hazel eyes at their pretensions, for next to the sink
lies a gorgeous long-lashed-eyed pumpkin completely in pink
Bitter storm-lashed halting site or haunt,
granite stone bench in lieu of hovel,
rawbone seat of pity for the pauper,
downtrodden, cast off, as I sense,
gut wrenching scruples writhe within me,
in situ almsgiver’s strident gulp,
respite, relief, twinge of conscience,
grim bench so derelict, let’s “address” this!
No
summer
small wonder
too much thunder
see the puddles grow
when winter came
it lashed rain
status
quo
Wild hands
Touch wonder
The Earth shook
I heard thunder
...fault line
Angry words
Whipped about
Lashed at silence
I heard a shout
...fault line
Salty residue
Throat sensation
Music halted
Willing participation
...fault line
Personalities surface
Crazy run a muck
Responsibility dodged
Just passing the buck
...fault line
Working it out
Healing the fracture
Knocking down beams
To restore the structure
...earthquake
It's over
Leveled, scared
No one to tell
About all my affairs
...demolished
Stay away
Don't come near
The TRUTH
Is what you fear
...the New Earth is here
Written by Trudy Schrader on 01-18-2026
I lashed them with my tongue
The paper got all wet
I lashed them with ink
They turned blue
I lashed them with words
They slowed their retreat
Read more slowly
Smirked at the irony
Flinched at the pain
Wept at the happiness
While touching its sadness
My words are razor sharp
Some splitting hairs
Others cutting more deeply
All part of my poetic Kata
Smooth movements
Vibrant consequences
Warriors all
Both those who write
And those who read
Seeking peace
Between swords and pens
Too wet to woo
I'm sure a white owl flew across
Car headlights traced his grace
When seen, I always think of Dad
Wise written on his face
The rain lashed down, my love so distant
Too wet to woo, the owl insistent
Sleep wont come, nights are never ending.
Beyond all the pain my spirit is descending.
You ripped out my heart. I am an empty vessel.
Devotion, and feelings of loathing, both wrestle.
Your hateful, bitter words on my soul left a stain.
I showered you with love, you greeted me with pain.
So many questions, my tortured mind is ill at ease.
The man of my dreams, now impossible to please.
Toxic thoughts encircle my mind like a plague.
Shell shocked and shattered, my feelings are vague.
I cannot comprehend why you lost all control.
Leaving a void, an abyss I am no longer whole.
Memories are so clouded of that fateful night.
Bewildered why you lashed out, was it all in spite?
Visions of you laughing at me behind those bars.
My broken body lays dormant covered in battle scars.
I refuse to be known as a victim of violence.
There'll be no labels. A survivor, without silence.
You took all the love, an abundance I had to give.
Maybe this time I wont be so quick to forgive.
The Song: Battle Scars The writers : Guy Sebastian & Lupe
Engineer & singer : Jemma
Copyright © Speaks Volumes | Year Posted 2023
The Revealed Secret
Why did you do it?
Why let the cat out the bag?
Were you so hurting?
Why did you raise your red flag?
Was at this time in nineteen-eighty, you were being bullied
To retaliate, you spat a truth that left us sullied
I am so sorry
I wish I'd stood up for you
Instead of being passive
Let those children get to you
They cornered you, I saw those tears, I felt that pain you carried
You lashed back out, came out your mouth, and innocence was buried
I tried not to react
Although was broken inside
I wanted to ask my Mum
Is it true, why has she lied?
Your revelation, hells vacation, death of hope and light
The words you spoke, my youth revoked, my entry to real life
I fought back my tears
“I knew that”, I pretended
Through all of these years
Your secret, hope absconded
You blurted out, “He isn't real - it's just your Mum and Dad”
No Santa Claus, no warm applause, just kids - upset and sad
To embrace future one must put behind past
Scars of the world feeds our depths emotions
Hatred upon our hearts just as we find love
I come from beauty but do not find
A image into reality concept to living
Broken soul with no perception has what purpose
But the darkness which laid that feeds
Man's spirit embrace but are they free
Tied to world torn beneath their own greed
Past graves as if today demise be meet
We as society united in themselves wicked doing
Diverse humanity denouncing religion beliefs to existence
Pleasure of one's desire devouring the journey
We are blind as if naive our mind deadly as the tongue
Where comes the soul creatures breath life
Blood run veins pumped survival instinct
Spiritual deposition of man who walked the waters
Where is it we live but yet to endure peace
Except among mankind, cuts lashed bone deep
Scars, reminder world's beating to man I become
Scarred by world ambition I die sin to law
Not of the world my soul I give but only the body
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
One stormy day in Texas the sky cracked open like a cheap piñata,
Jalapeño hail lashed the bluebonnets—goodbye, pretty blooms hasta la vista!
Rain turned to spicy salsa, rivers into ice-cold Lone Star Beer.
Cowpokes huddled together, prayin’ in the cactus-flavored air.
Pa’s prize longhorns blew away, where they went he had no idea
Eventually landed in Dallas yellin', "Y'all seen my tortillas?"
Crick rose up where three armadillos was sharin' one floatie.
Were heard to ask, “Where’s our guacamole?” ¡Olé!
Simple Weight
I dropped my killick deep into the bay,
not made of iron, but of gathered stone,
and a dead branch lashed tight to keep it whole,
to hold me while the tide turned on its way.
It settled in the mud, a simple weight,
where tiny crabs might skitter and explore,
a humble thing to keep me from the shore,
a promise that I would not drift away.
I watched the water's skin grow hard and gray,
and held the breath I didn't know I'd held.
The line went slack at last, a sudden give.
The tide had shifted and the stone broke free,
and somewhere on the bottom, it was lost.
My simple anchor, set for me to live,
had found a place to rest, a final cost.
And I began to move, a slow release,
as currents pushed me out toward open sea.
I left the killick to its endless peace,
and drifted, finally, with no need to live
within the limits I had set for me.
Indeed, the most successful thief of them all is Death.
All the pain and suffering one has to withstand,
After death has lashed out terror.
All the gallons of tears one has to weep in order to feel calm,
But instead, it only cleared more room for more pain.
Looking inside that wooden-framed structure, face to face with a pale face.
Only memory flashes will be alive, as I will be in a world of my own.
Where death is only a name, but I know all good must come to an end.
“Death, the bride’s mate of all families.”
Till we meet again, as I was robbed of time,
Till we meet again, as the light will shine once again.
Yeah, I’ll miss you, but life is moving forward—so in heaven, pray still,
As I’m still on earth, and death roams free. ©
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