Long poem by
JW Earnings | Details
Hate the feelings of ew's and ugh's...let's pause before we put our paws on this unmanageable cause with silent applause (quiet interest or hushed enthusiasm)
What's the cause of these negative, gross, worthless flawful laws that opens a juzzilion jaws
I wear the mask of smiles
I treated a million miles
Just to c u go away !!!
Oh nuuu! Don't say it's 2day
To my dying, unlying and not-even-trying dismay,
Your dark and dangerous disarray is a gay, shameless straying-away day that goes frankly cray-cray I must say with my head up and down in many-a-way
Greed got in the way..I wanted you to simply stay by my sheltering side
I've started to go astray some say...subside not from my crazy ride
No way,
Jesus (ho-zay)
Do as you may
Pay the price, OK?
You're my living sacrifice
I took your advice lightly - entice me again, but this time though, don't hand me delicious delicacies on a clean slate plate that offer further useless advice that scatter out of my insane brain like house mice that are not-so-nice to be a tad concise - I prize my sayings, despise it's misunderstandings along with it...I paid the price with past memories that are like bugs that suck up the dead dandruff aka live lice
I reckon it's my turn
To burn out the light of deception's might
Let the oceans of your humane found in a few in humans flow and churn
It's my time to live for the death of yesterday - quiet times are quite alright
I only take correction from the Lord of Accord or, originally, His name is God
All I do...is nod and hold on to His Word like a iron-sharpens-iron rod
I say I'll do what He says in the bible specifically but I don't totally
I say let's pray everyday, but I won't stick to the plan unfortunately
I wish I was in someone else's skin
Wondering where in the world you've been
After all, you've been gone all night with someone new
You didn't even see me stand tall through it all...still sic with dem luv floo and you hadn't a clue...who knew...you weren't part of the good-in-the-hood crew
I'm afraid I'm a downgrade, an old trait in a lonely state
I doubt no doubt or pout
Lately, I needed an upgrade up-to-date... I can't wait for future fate
What goes in goes out
I sit there...people stand dumbfoundedly and vacantly stare just a hair - at least we're a perfect pair - dare to be my beloved nightmare
I move with the groove too
Unique on fleek with a rebelliousish streak (innocent-weak - meaning lack of strength and lack of innocence along with it) and as zealous and bold as a bear...playing truth and dare without a care
Impatient sin...it appears that you are struck stupid by nightmares, letting out a tragedy with an acrid aftershock as a whole and as a shard of shattered hope that will make me mope - that, in itself, ain't dope and I'm an inaccurately-drawn slope and a broken telescope
I'm infatuated with isolation illumination - where do I begin?
Fury-whelmed and faint with frustration...in a stallion station of shimmering, satisfactory sensation with no shake of sheer hesitation
You're precarious and hilarious...and oh so serious and helpless...this hardship of hell on Mnt. Everest is perilously pitiful in illusive obscurity! You're living a life, free and careless nonetheless...more or less to impress and express eustress and distress,
Sooooo press on those keys on the piano...dear love, te amo...
Placed carefully in a neat, gloriousless mess...
You're a delicate China plate, a polished success
Press on the keyboard of boredom disease
The odium of sodium is hardly putting my heart and soul at ease
Even my brain has gone insane
My lane of thought has zipped through your own
Pain rain has given me a loss of a gain
Played as a fool by your on-your-own advice of arrogance all alone
Snug in the blankets of my dreadful delight
I can't afford your priceless presence near my side all day and night
Here's an access
To exPRESS, not impress
Print your paw prints on my heart of tattooed taboo
Don't be a sour poo, my baby boo - you're mad as a buzzin' bee, about to sting the knee - boohoo! And shooshoo to you-you too
Hate me like you do, haters
Love me like you mean it, lovers
Chew away the gum of fooldumb
Instead, consume God's wisdom
Numb and dumb,
But I am still titanium
Despite all the shit you've put me through
I've encountered so many trials...if only you knew half of what I've experienced...it's something new outta the orange that gleams anew
The audience of denseless, senseless clever cheer and fearless fear
Brought me down here...downfalls are my uprising, my darling dear and my sidetracked deer
No worries, have no fear, for God is near and repentance is kneeling at the back door for you and I to not put it in the backburner like we always did before I fear while others mock, taunt and jeer
Unleash me from the chains of no-brainers and painters of stained see-you-laters
Give me five minutes to gussy up in a manly fashion and to make-up lines that are charismatic for you and I...you're the barking, bold dog (I dig it I admit) and I'm the cat that passionately purrs (I paw it a bit)
Chastise me with your fantasy and prize me for my reality's fails and successes along the way..forgive and forget the haters and let anticipation do the talking, walking-on-thin-ice ice-skaters, not worked up on what lies ahead - a Kingdom that's far higher than spacescrapers
It's common sense to stay vigilant and be sober-minded individuals
You're my maniac on a levitating leash and you are a bouncy beach ball, getting thrown back and forth with no end or so it seems in my wild dreams that are scorching by the seams
My drunk dear...I'm a tearjerker that sheds so many bittersweet lament drops because my heart stops at your reckless actions of self-satisfactions and peer-pressured by past and present interactions...what about you get your spirits running on energy-fused, faith fuels (that are cewlz)
You're my Genesis to Revelation, the Lord Almighty...but I'm mighty sorry - please forgive me for the wrongs I've committed from time to time...I let out my kaos-enthralled screams that heightens my self-esteem and I'm flowing free like surreal streams that are as shiny as blessing beams
I'm the fifth child in my family
The youngest brother...
I'm a Gemini like my father frankly
Grew close to my mother...
I miss her...I love her...she still considers me her son
I wish she would come back
This divorce thing...I'm unsure of, but it's hurting me to hear of it a ton
Copyright © JW Earnings | Year Posted 2016
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Long poem by
Gerald Dillenbeck | Details
I was listening to Cornell West,
who described our catastrophic tolerance of disvalues for others,
situations we would never tolerate for ourselves,
disvalues like homelessness and hunger,
but also like random violence,
abuse and neglect,
lack of caring,
as a "conspiracy" of a dominating, oppressive, and competitive culture.
Conspiracy theories make me nervous about the theorist,
but West reassured us that he shares this concern,
yet even with all that concern taken into account,
perhaps this is a conspiracy
in the same sense that cultural and climate evolutions
always appear, in hindsight,
as if genius inspired,
intelligently planned
and spontaneously networked
a magically coincidental outcome.
Positive sometimes,
and sometimes more about this mystery
of tolerating oppressive and suppressive disvalues for others,
with apparent equanimity,
unaware of any cognitive dissonance,
without active antipathy,
or even passive empathy,
the total absence of compassion,
lack of mindfulness,
lack of consciousness;
unconsciousness.
Our own hypocrisy of self v. other values v. tolerable disvalues
are hypnotic conspiracies?
Magical miracles?
Yet, conspiracy or not,
if self-contentment is possible
while hypocritically accepting intolerable losses and suffering,
abuse and neglect, for other:
species,
Earth-plus-atmosphere ecosystem,
nations,
cultures,
neighborhoods,
even other family members,
then we sometimes would choose words like
irrational,
rabid,
irresponsible,
lack of appropriate accountability,
lack of capacity for empathy or bonding,
lack of awareness, consciousness,
hateful,
stupid,
mental disease,
sociopathology,
ecopathology,
a hypocritical living death cuts by a thousand ego-feathered knives.
We work this magically competitive hypocrisy with each other,
on each other,
against each other,
and sometimes with each other--
we call that humor.
I do not feel possessed
when my internal ecological voice
tells me that my monocultural competitive economic environment
is over-invested in undervaluing significant dimensions
of who we naturally and cooperatively (permaculturally) are,
our care-giving and loving,
our tenderness and justice-seeking,
our tendency to side with the underdog and the understory,
our endless fascination with root systems and nutritious blossoms,
seasonal development patterns and the weather,
birdsong and surf sounds,
regular breathing and heart-beat rhythms,
blood flow nutritional capacities,
the consumption and production of nutrients
within any paradigm that might come to mind.
I get it that I live in a culture diseducating ourselves
about Darwin's "evolution is the survival of the fittest cooperative relationships"
by simply omitting the last two words;
cultural hypocrisy miraculously conspired through our sins of omission,
more salient than our grace of cooperative inclusion,
because of collective cognitive dissonance
where we need collective cognitive confluence.
Perhaps a more resonant resolution of consciousness
calls us to slow down and decompose our analysis of deviance
as sometimes negative and sometimes positive
but always some of both.
I struggle to hold a heuristic safe-space for positive deviance.
My cognitive dissonance radar
learns to perceive dissonance itself as having two faces.
In this way
I begin to claim my positive deviant place
in our shared orthodoxy of truth and goodness,
beauty and diverse polycultural integrity,
in our "unitarianism" our synergy (B. Fuller),
our love.
If I am challenged to include you in this shared orthodoxy
(of truth and goodness and beauty and justice, etc.--the "positive values")
then my sense of ecosystemic balance
is dissonant enough to exclude you
from your rightful place in our radically cooperative eco-space.
I tend to over-react to your negative deviance,
all that nastiness, really?!
because of our culturally collective cognitive dissonance
about your coincidental positive deviance,
OK, so you are loyal to a fault and a good cook,
and the clothes actually do smell and feel better when you do the laundry,
although it is the environmental expense that we actually disagree about,
whether it is significant to our collective future,
or not,
or something in between,
some place that we might actually find
and consensually agree about
and then go on to those other kinds of sensuality,
but I think I have side-railed here.
Perhaps we enjoy solidarity in rooting for the underdog
in empathizing with those who appear
with a magical potential of a positive deviant outcome.
We so hope the underdog might win this round
in part
because we thereby retain a ray of hope
that we too may someday win
with all our undervalued, unsung, underdogged traits,
cooperative preferences,
nurturing instincts,
suffering and struggling with
my over-dog egocentric cultural landscapes,
my environment,
my internally encultured ego (Left-brained) consciousness.
I always cast my ego in the role of underdog,
just as my Right brain casts our permaculturally cooperative eco-consciousness
in the role of Superdog.
This internally chaotic conspiracy of self-doubt
about ego's capacity to live fully,
integrally,
creatively,
honestly,
compassionately,
with appropriate integrity of self-disclosure,
without the embarrassment of closeted hypocrisy,
dropping our considerable weapons of mutual immunity
and cognitive dissonance,
is also the boundary face of rediscovering our Right-brain's ecocenter,
our Beloved non-verbal Communication center,
comprehensively conscious,
resonant and resolved,
optimized and polypathically densely nutritious,
only through bicamerally synergetic confluence,
active peace,
love,
integrity of shared meaning and purpose
to the very core of our mutually messianic
mutually mentoring
co-redemptive
ego-and-eco balanced chi-soul.
Interior Landscaped Ego (left)
and Cooperative Exterior Landscaped EcoEarth (right-elder)
DNA/RNA fueled and functional frequencies
coincidentally confluate,
stir
decompose
to regenerate.
Copyright © Gerald Dillenbeck | Year Posted 2015
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Long poem by
Edward Ebbs | Details
When I was a child in the streets of Los Angeles you would sized up groups approaching by watching the movements they made.
I remember this group/gang of older kids approaching me, watching them carefully while looking down to see if they would follow me as I cross over the other side of the street. If they would cross over matching my movements, I'm in trouble. I still remember the feeling of their penetrating eyes as I glanced up; everything inside of me was screaming. With my mind racing I remembered the storm sewer at the street corner I just passed a few moments ago. Without hesitation I turned and ran for my life, sliding into the street corner between the sidewalk above and the street below…a few more pounds and I would have been stuck.
This storm sewer basin I am in is a large concrete box with a large concrete pipe in the corner that goes somewhere. The gang members are all around now swinging their chains, and sticks with razor blades embedded in them. They are acting like a pack of dogs yelping and hollering that have their prey is trapped in a corner. They start to work on the manhole cover above with a crowbar of some sort, which would gain them access to me below. A chain graises my arm, the barb leaves a couple of cuts. Dripping with blood, my body trembling, fear is now getting the best of me. I am trapped and no where to go other than down the drain pipe...there is no choice, there is no rescue above, so I quickly entered the large drain piped into a darken abyss. This drain pipe connects to a tunnel large enough for a car to pass through.
I hear voices getting closer, so they must have gotten past that manhole. They seem to be following me so I run down the tunnel into the darkness so they would not see me. I stop to listen, I hear no footsteps, but I ran so far I cannot see a thing, there is no light, the darkness turned into nothingness. Reaching out with my hands I walk blindly and bump into a wall. I can’t go back the way I came because the fate that would await me going that direction, but there is nothingness is all around me so I am not sure what direction that would be. I remember running down the left side of the tunnel before stopping to listen.
When I start to walk again and I run into a wall, so that must be the right side, I think? I decide to continue, and being right handed I'm more comfortable on the left side so I turn and walk towards the left side to have something to touch. It seems like an eternity until I finally reach a wall. This wall will become my security within this nothingness...I can’t see my hands or feet, or even hear a sound. There is no frame of reference, only the wall and the solid ground under my feet. Thank God this was a time before those graphic vampire movies or Freddy Krueger; I have only those Alfred Hichcook movies to pull fears from.
Continuing through this nothingness a beam of light begins to appear from above. It’s amazing how much light comes through this little tiny whole from a manhole cover—it lights up the whole area. I stand there amazed and I take a deep breath in this light, it has been a long journey to this point. Standing there I notice a ladder leading up to a possible escape. Listening carefully before pushing up on the cover, I push and push...I'm not strong enough. Many of the manhole covers are spot welded by the public works department to prevent opening manholes in the middle of a street. I climb down from the ladder and pause for a few moments in the light absorbing what I could before continuing on; this tunnel must lead somewhere, right? Another beam of light, another welded manhole cover. The fear of the gang has long past, my only thoughts now are those of being lost.
The nothingness continues as I walk, and it has been a long time since the last little beam of light and I have found the meaning of hopelessness. The floor below is beginning to get damp, ick, what am I walking in? I can’t see a thing and I'm too afraid to stop touching the wall to stoop down--the wall is my security. My mind is pretty numb right now, my only thoughts are dragging my hand on the wall wall and walking. The dampness becomes wet, and from wet to splashing. Briefly a moment of fear, I pause to sense if the water is moving; am I going the wrong way and am I about to get swallowed up by a wall of water. The water seems to be static and the nothingness yields no sounds, so I continue.
At last, I get a feeling of salvation from one of those little beams of light shining from above. I look down at my feet and see little fish in the water below. I'm headed to the ocean, oh yeah!! The nothingness continues until again there is this little light at the end of the tunnel. The wall is no longer my security--I follow the light.
Continuing, the water is at my knees as I walking towards the light. I can smell the ocean and feel a slight breeze. Feeling really happy inside I can see the ocean and the sand, and sigh, there is a bar screen blocking my exit. Again I feel rather defeated with a slight sense of panic. I am thinking to myself that their is no way I can go back as I look closely at this bar screen blocking the way to freedom. I notice one corner has been pulled away; I can see through the sea water that it’s bent outward, and it's high tide. I cannot wait for the tide to change because it will be dark soon, so I take a deep breath and down I go. My shirt snags on something as I reach around to the other side and pull. I struggle as my shirt tears, but I am free...it feels wonderfull to be free. Looking around at the beach, it’s rather windy and there are only a few people on the beach today. I look around to get my bearings before I start home again. I will never will tell mom about any of this. Months later they are welding extra bars over these drain openings at the street corners. I am heavier now and I would not fit anyway, but what others, what choices they will have to make for their escape?
Copyright © Edward Ebbs | Year Posted 2014
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Long poem by
Ir0nic ZiNk | Details
justice
What does this vastly misunderstood word mean to you?
Too what ends?
May we seek?
Who(m) may guide us?
Endless deliberation (spiss spiss spiss)
Debated and glorified by us all
Beloved; instilled among (a) core integrity
Coddled and looked upon/after with parental instinct
Construed through social media
Society builds (an) imagination
An ideal becoming real
As real as...
Pain
Life
Death
As real as...it gets...
Trusted by innocence
Betrayed in founding our guilts
Right depicts wrongs and lies are monologued
Full fledge imaginary tales
Molded like bacteria into our eternally doomed plaguing generosity after imploding back into from whence it came, plagued in
Plagued out
Set up by self
Righteous justice delivered and plated in first class bull shit-ness
Coffin(g)' bull shit (ness)
Casting lie after selfish lie, inception, role played until perfection carries in action
Orchestrated beautifully and directed accordingly suiting presentation of currency
Whether that be in time or it of monetary value
Emotionally effective, affected by minds' deception
Chords stroked with brilliance master bated egotistical(s) religiously every night before bed
Wet dreamt down covered by impost and then ingested along side with breakfast... forgotten
Conveniently revealed through indecent exposure, then paraded around, as if to be considered within the same sentence(s) as truth; nonetheless, lied through a tooth
Nails chalk board out records' as screeching can be seen screaming for more farce facts
Depart from
Truth
Depart from?
Fact
How?
How can you expect me to depart from any?
How?
As if I can possibly part path ways of destiny
What am I left with to depart from once I deplane thyself?
Wouldn't destiny choose my fate prior to departure and my fate be eternally booked reasonably just?
Depart from society?
Asking miraculous birth of mortal man; imperfectly deficient (of)
Depart from paths paved in black tar and crushed rock created by belief of/invisible value placing objects, taxed paid tolled and replayed cyclically fooling ignorant man into personally disbelieving in (the) passing perfect dream
Filling lines at check stands following the footsteps of order
Control
Instructed to
Portrayed vividly by
Whispering lies slip through vestal ears and colored in, between the lines
Lines?
Lines layed out by leadership and puzzled people are peices used
Valued by our circumstantial net worth under what true value capable
Able to
Impossible to comprehend
Incomprehensible possibilities
A perfect perfidy
Our eternally tragic flaw
Our destiny
Or destination
Currently aboard
Physical and mental residency
Unreasonably reasoned into reasons (to which we reside)
Everything happens for a reason
Excusing moral complex of duty
Temporary relief, masking our seams in convenient tape
Order observed
The fools fall for it every time!
(HA ha ha Ha ha)
Easy to carry out this conducted charade
Ducks in a row line up to shoot fish in a barrel (word-play)
Bait tackles hooks line and sinker (play-on)
The wheels in the sky keep on turning (word player)
Spinning up webs, interlacing lies formulated with meticulous planning, and practiced... and perfected...
Sculpted into real life
Believed intrepidly with ease
Creation
Created man kind
Man kind is in fact, a creation
Singular significance is but a lie away from an insecurity
Trapping man after man with its tricks and treating him to an easy life, laid out in scripture, utilizing deception to coerce belief in a mass scale. (on)
Social strategy that relies on deception and is ordered and instructed (in)
Climates' of change are handled accordingly, (and) shifts are taken in, (and) handed out as the players rotate, cyclically fluctuating so to suit the finite demands—that is life and also—death
Who is the (at) top
Who is the (at) bottom
Maybe the bottom is the top and the top is simply a cycle shift away from hitting rock bottom (at)
Cycle
We being the jokers
All of us
Played by ourselves
Only as great as our greatest and as weak as our weakest and more likely ruled by the majority party (-on dude)
Major jack asses
(Salute;)
Ordering our own destiny (it would seem)
Collectively dissolving
Only to be as a lie (the)
A lie we tell
We believe (the)
Convincing each other of our insignificance and conveniently maintained. (lie)
Filing into lines, we order our own indignation. (righteous)
Interpreted by the "higher" as a blessing and disguised by the "lower" as weakness. (class)
Morals are departed from by the majority and circumstance reveals present coarse while the story tells timely tales as lies are simply adjusted—like a tune—and radiated through glorification; (and) ratified by righteousness to personally appear (as); just. (if)
Justice is what we all reason it to be. (only)
Reasons that make it ok to condone such (a) lie.
Cycles of life effect change and affect us—accordingly
Cycles are continuous and ironically—polarizing.
The tip top of the tippy top is but a click clock from a clicky clock—(away)—from rock bottom. (bot)
Temporary
Circumstantial
Cyclic
Collected
And collectively believed at a mass scale majority (to be) perceived and conceived ingested molested and righteousness is ultimately elected; articulated (as) we believe lies (to the) reality (of) such nature (to) become... (extents)
of
justice
10-31-16
(Boo)
Copyright © Ir0nic ZiNk | Year Posted 2016
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Long poem by
Poet M.e. | Details
CONVERGENCE OF THE TRAIN
Act I..scene II, fade,
Second floor, English Comp, Eleventh grade
There was a girl who sat
Three seats in back of me
For the sake of this poems
And to protect her privacy
We can call her Jacqueline or Jackie
They teased her everyday
Cause she had body odor,
Cuts on her arms and acne
No one at Ridgemont knew
She lost her father when she was three
Two years before her mother Od’d..
She sat on a highchair watching
Her Shooting heroin in her veins
But what does all this have to do
With a Train?
I refrain
Her Auntie didn’t want her
Her Auntie’s boyfriend did
Quite a lot for an eight year old kid
So inside of herself she hid
Four Foster Homes
Ten therapist later she finally
Felt as if she was winning
Her first day at Ridgemont High
Her fifth High school in all
The medications were working
It was her new beginning
After third period English class
She placed the small Hamlet book
In her purse, grabbed her headphones
And bobbled her head to Lady Gaga
As she walked down the hall
She didn’t know that
Samantha and Amber
And two other girls
Waited for her in the bathroom stall
And five others hid behind the wall
Samantha unzipped Jackie's purse
And what they did next
Will make your heart burst
They snapped pictures of
Her medications
Lexipro and abilify
They smeared feces on her Thesis
Tore her bracelet to pieces
And told her to go back where
She came from and die.
Her only defense was to cry
But a hundred episodes of Oprah and Dr. Phil
And a plethora of pills
Taught her how to be okay..Just a bad day.
Therapist had taught her how to be
Self assuring
Jackie cried on the bathroom floor
Shaking, aching, soaked in her own Urine
Enduring...
Act II Scene two days later in the gym
Regina pulled Jackie's bra off
And threw it to Kim
Who wrote Slut on it with her Black pen
Then Nicole socked her
Laughing as Jackie fell against the locker
One by one they slapped her like actors
Her cries were not as loud as the laughter
Jackie confided in her Biology teacher.
Who told the Principal
Jackie felt like Oprah, invincible
Samantha got suspended
They all had a meeting
And she was so sure this would end it
Enter Donnie 6’3 and charming
Jumped off a White horse and
rescued her like her Savior
He told her she was beautiful
And apologized for everyone’s behavior
And you should see the locket he gave her
He lettered in track and basketball
And was headed to UCLA in the fall
He taught her to laugh again
And brought all the bullying to an end
For the first time in her life, a friend
Took him six weeks convinced her to have sex
And kissed away the insanity
Only she didn’t see the camera
Between the books over the vanity
As she put her clothes back on
He told her he would always be with her
She didn’t know however
Was that everything that happened
In the last two hours
Was already on Facebook and Twitter
Ten minutes before the school bell
The kids started laughing
And checking their cells
It was hard to believe that kids
With human parents
Could be so rude
Until I grabbed my cell phone
Saw videos of Jackie in the nude
They saw all the bruises and cuts
Yelled run home you slut
And they laughed at her pain
But I divert again
Why am I talking about a girl
In high school
In a poem about a train
11:46 PM The train stopped at Washington station
The driver collected his fares
And people shared current events
And engaged in Political Conversation
12:10 Jackie sat in the office
pleaded for a transfer
From the school administration
“They are going to kill me she pleaded.”
12:20 The Vice Principal says,
Absolutely“No more transfers.
Running is not the answer
You have to learn how to solve them.
Ma'am maybe you are the problem..”
Jackie’s Foster mom never made the meeting
From ten feet away
You could hear her heart beating
It took two therapist and a nurse
To stop her from crying
The Principal told her
“You have to understand we’re trying.”
Jackie ran out the door
A mile away
The Train reached Jefferson station at 12:34
Eight passengers entered, then six more
They grabbed their packages, their Wall Street Journals
Their Prada, their Christian Diors
12:48 Jackie stood on the Platform
Of the Train station
Trying to weigh her worth
Pressing rewind on all the hurt
Then Play In the cinema of her eyes
The Therapist, the judges voices
All the promises, all the lies
She was all alone and
She just wanted to
Get on the train and go home
From a hundred yards away
Jackie saw her TRAIN
They exchanged glances
Like Bogart and Bacall
Like Whitney and Costner
Like a scene from the Oscars
And all she needed was one dance
She walked onto the tracks
Refusing to look back
And the dance was sublime
The Train put his arms around her
And promised to have her home on time
And then the music breached
The breaks of the TRAIN screeched
The driver of the train only saw the back pack
He hit the breaks as fast as he could…
He tried to react
The Hamlet book leaped from her backpack
And lay open on the edge of the track
Under the blood on the pages
An irony of the ages
As tragic as Hamlet on his final stage
“You cannot, sir, take from me any thing
That I will more willingly part withal:
except my life, except my life, except my life.”
Poet Michael Ellis
poetmichaelellis.com
Copyright © Poet M.e. | Year Posted 2017
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Long poem by
jack oritx | Details
THE TOUR
WHOA!
Stop right there my friend!
For there’s no place in where you can run and hide
So stop and listen
Listen to the voices warning you to go back
Screaming out to beware of the horror that flows through this young child’s mind
Opps too late!
You just had to do it
Didn’t you
You just had to enter into the darkness of this fallen soul
Well don’t just stand there come closer since its to late
To turn back now
Ready?
Okay then welcome to the horrors of this poetic mind
For in here you’ll hear and feel what’s like to be me
For you’re in my world now and its not a pretty site
So where do you like to begin
Oh I know
Why don’t we go and see what my heart is up to
Shall we
Heart: this is umm oh I’m sorry but you never told me what’s your name is
Oh well it doesn’t matter
Heart, do you mind telling my new friend here how you continue to beat inside of this old wrap body of ours
My pleasure I may beat but what I really want to do is
Explode from all the voices that whisper to my soul
Late at night
Thanks heart and speaking of our soul
Let’s go see what she’s up to okay
Oh come on don’t try to run away now
I tried to warn you before but you didn’t want to listen
No
You had dare to challenge the demons that rule over
My heart, mind and soul
So let’s just move on
Hello Ms. Soul, I’d like for you to meet-
Damn I really must learn your name anyway
Would you mind telling my friend here
How you continue to live and breathe through all of this everlasting pain
Am I breathing?
For day after day it feels like I’m suffocating from
All this torment pain that flows through this child’s body
For if you’d take a closer look inside of this old soul
Of mines you’d see that I’m slowly dying from the inside out
For maybe there’s a God above who’ll hopefully
One day will forgive this child of mines
Or
Maybe the devil below who can hardly wait to get
His ferly hooks inside this soul
For if we aren’t allow to enter in neither one then
Please I’m begging you please let me go and allow
Us to burn in eternal peace
Whoa!
Even I’m lost for words let’s just move on before
You start whining again
So just sit back and relax as I introduce you
To the most horrifying part of our tour
The disturbing words of this child’s poetic mind
Well thank you for that lovely intro and let me say
How brave your young friend is for coming this far
Frankly I never thought you’d make it
Any way I know that I’m just blabbing for I know
How you must feel I bet you’re just dying for me
To just shut the hell up so you could get the hell
Out of here
Am I right?
Of course I am so let me get to the point then you’ll be free
To go
We come into this world without any guardian angels
To show us how our life is going to be
For I’m just a young child whose soul’s more than happy
To welcome the bright lights of an icy hell that fills
My heart
And before you open your mouth to interrupt
Let me save you the trouble since I know what your
Going to say
You’re going to say
That these feelings will not last forever if I just have a
Little faith
Well let me tell you that forever has been here and gone
My friend
And to this very day this child is yet to believe that her day of faith will ever come
For I’ve shown you all of my soul’s silence
I’ve told you all of my heart’s torments
But most important I’ve shown you the real me
Not the happy outgoing person that I always
Pretend to be
For don’t you think that I’d love to forget how I’ve
Been raped of all my innocence, faith and trust
And have them replace with numbness, shame and pain
But I can’t blame you for the sins of this child’s past
No
That would be useless since I could never be the person
That so many of you wish for me to be
So that completes the ending of this tour
How did you like it
Aww it left you pretty speechless huh
I had a feeling that it’d well don’t just stand there
With that stupid look on your face go get the hell out here
That’s it just turn around and walk away
Oh one more thing before you go I never did get your name
Well it was very nice to finally met you God
Now please get the hell out of here before you get trapped
Within the walls of this wicked disturbed mind
Oh hey wait!
Could I just ask you for one small favor before you go
I can
Hey thanks
Okay umm now bear with me cause this ain’t easy for me
To ask
But okay I really never learned how and nobody ever took
The time to teach me and it’d mean so much
To me if you’d open your heart just for a second and say
A prayer for me then maybe in that same split second I’d learn how to undo all the pain that ever been
For one day if you shall remember me
Remember what you’ve learn here today I want you to look down from that holy thorn of yours that you call heaven
But I warn you, your eyes will burn from all the flames
But don’t be sad
For just as so many have forsaken you I’ve chosen to forsaken you
Since the day I was born
And yes, I’ll burn and forever vanish in a blink of an eye
Why?
You dare to ask well since the day you’ve placed me
In a place named hell to live
And love don’t you think its only natural that I would want to die here too
Just think about it
Copyright © belong to jack 2006
Copyright © jack oritx | Year Posted 2014
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Long poem by
Poetryof Providence | Details
I remember the beach sand and swing
when you and mother were still something
I remember the ducks in the lake
you held my hand watching their wake
I remember the sheep dogs when the day was through
and the mornings grass all covered with dew
I remember the dead man and blood on the floor
my hand in my mothers as she went for the door
I remember the stairs I thought I’d fall through
and the building where she was hidden from you
she tried drowning me in the bath and the tub
her hands on my throat on the dining room rug
the pain of the walls where my body flew
the floor of the closet when she was through
I remember you entering the door
as you picked up my body from off the floor
the words were so ugly I’ve forgotten them now
but things haven’t changed much anyhow
I remember the willows and switches not few
a home not mine and the children were new
a string of families never seeming to end
the abuse and the beatings I’m not on the mend
I remember the the rage and the red flushed face
what did I do to fall from your grace
I remember the fear when I tried to hide
the man and the 2by4 when it hit my side
the bruise and welts with noone to care
my mother and father aren’t even there
I remember the family that took me in
they had no daughter just two young men
one boy was loving the other was slime
but the parents protected me most of the time
I was safe for awhile with nightmares not few
and some of my demons she helped to slew
I remember you taking me home at last
you had remarried some six months past
I remember the woman was cruel and mean
she remained that way till I was sixteen
At fifteen I had been already raped twice
the drugs and pills and the wrist yet to slice
I remember the police to the hospital sped
the straight jacket and thorazine I should have been dead
I remember the airplane that sent me away
with my half brothers mother I was to stay
my neck with a forearm pinned to the wall
my half brothers brother screaming he will have all
I remember the screaming as I flew down the stairs
his violence had caught me totally unawares
the pain as he smashed me on the walls of the hall
the kicks in the ribs after my fall
the nine months I walked in a state of fear
how I passed my classes is very unclear
I remember the man when I hitched into town
the car was a sedan of dirty brown
the doors had no handles no way to get out
he pulled out a knife and proceeded to shout
how he would cut me and make me bleed
if I didn’t fill some sort of need
how I grabbed the wheel for steering the car
when he slammed on the brakes down the road not far
when he slid out the door by the side of the road
it seemed to me that all time had slowed
he released me with curses not language unknown
from the cage of his car this bird had flown
I remember the man preaching justice and truth
but to find answers one must become sleuth
I remember the marriage and I made him swear
that to hit or harm me he must never dare
I remember the baby with curls of gold
by seventeen to marriage my father me sold
I remember the lapses of time I had lost
the forge of my youth and the price it had cost
the thread that kept me alive was so thin
in my mind it was always me against him
I remember the children that helped keep me sane
with some sort of focus with the man I had lain
I remember the striving for some sort of truth
what kind of a mother my children had in their youth
I remember it all so plain and clear
that violence from men will always be near
I swore at sixteen no child to have
if you couldn’t play safely with joy and a laugh
forgive me my children for bringing you here
the reasons I do things are sometimes not clear
My parents are gone and I do not mourn
but only for the life I was never shown
I did try to spare you the same kind of fate
I hoped that my love would be never to late
I had no control of the time or the chance
that injustice would look upon you with his glance
I raise my eyes to the heavens and vent to his name
to save all the children who are yet put thru shame
In a blast furnace my life has been forged
the tool of the hammer has formed my discourse
in molten metal I have been shaped
the tool of another I have not escaped
what of the purpose he hopes to hew
a piece of equipment all shiny and new
I remember my maker and the state of his grace
the road laid before me and the words of his face
the view of my nature he seeks to tame
with so many others who walk in the flame
in wails united to pull heaven down
and with its brightness scour the ground
his promise to do so has not yet passed
when all of mankind will feel his blast
the call has gone forth the meaning is clear
to give an accounting is so very near
those who think themselves high shall be made low
the dust of the earth their destined to know
the one that I follow has carved out the path
his star has shown brightly beneath thorn and the lash
I reach my arm forth to take hold his hand
to walk among humans woman and man
he paints a clear future for those of us all
a paradise lost to man in his fall
COPYRIGHT © 2009 C Michael Miller
via Duboff Law Group LLC
COPYRIGHT © 2009 C Michael Miller via Duboff Law Group LLC
Copyright © Poetryof Providence | Year Posted 2014
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Long poem by
Gerald Dillenbeck | Details
Disciples: How will we know True from False Prophets?
Teacher: You will cooperatively discern them
by their polyculturing love.
When does fear that disasters are becoming too relentlessly true,
masquerade as anger that such events and facts and trends
must not be true,
conspiracies of over-powering elites?
Fear and anger are bipolar opposites
and, more importantly,
are dipolar points of paranoia's contrasting equivocations.
Fear strikes inward
while anger lashes out.
In-between lies double-binding denial
that the other could become a deconstructive co-motivator,
a partner in paranoia's past crimes
against reality
not faced straight-forwardly,
with autonomous power and sufficient courage
and loyalty to those who have already been hurt,
and continue hurting,
by terror and pain
violence and degenerative disintegrative mayhem.
Are deniers of bad news
responsible for what they say
and therefore free to speak their responsibility
for economic and political and ecological realities
they are psychologically compelled to deny,
especially through compulsively loud, sometimes violent, repetition?
Are those who are confused
and enmeshed in their fear-constructed worlds
responsible for their anger-mongering on bad days,
anger management on better days,
tendencies?
How responsible could truth terrorists be
while maligning the minds,
and sometimes vulnerable bodies,
of those who speak hard to hear histories,
threatening ever more violence
and terror across landscapes
and climates of one's own lifetime,
one's own people,
family and allies,
kin?
Early interventions,
exorcisms of fear and anger power
are most effectively performed by wise parents,
listening mentors seldom available
to rampant waves of ill-developed paranoia,
rooted in alternative angry and distorted fact-telling,
xenophobic conspiracy constituents
of pretend historical facts.
How do we respond to our neighbors
who are also angry deniers of inconvenient facts?
Alien AngerBuilders
unwilling to speak truths to further paranoia producing prophecies?
Bad news will repeat and grow
unless we learn cooperation's RightBrain creations
co-governing inductive truths
of mentor more powerfully inter-relational than pathological climates
and internal landscapes
of dis-membering empty-nonevents.
We have been born into this time of immigrant-identified
and threatened crisis
unwilling to repent
unskilled to Right with Left reweave,
Earth's eco-native Commons Spirits
ecological nature-power
with economic cooperative-nurturing powersharing,
Golden Rule multiculturally co-committed
to further growing with each other,
to not perish in a self-paranoid silo
of double-binding terror.
Imagine these conspiracies dis-owning you,
belonging within no alien other,
and denials of past and on-coming events and facts
magically evaporate this night
because of our dreaming healthy futures
we will cooperate together
even through this most patriarchal Father's Night,
committed to ecosystemically reconnect
FalsoEgo with TrueEco
Left with Right co-mentoring mental health
ego/eco-centering double-binding wealth
of cooperatively loving co-arising opportunities
less hopeless bound by LeftBrain dominant denials
of RightBrain fear-taught conspiracies,
cognitive-affective learned dissonance,
entropic-chaotic dis-ease.
Paranoid denial double-binds
are empowered by negative-fueled criminalization,
violent attention,
abusively relentless shaming response,
absence of listening through Basic EcoCentric CoPresence
asking faithful questions
more than providing loving answers,
trusting through this deep ecology listening journey
mental illness faithfully listening with
searching depths of self-loving therapies,
co-healthing allies,
internal co-mentors
co-messianic Bodhisattva Warriors
of and for peace,
health's understory
for cooperatively therapeutic ego/eco-justice.
Denying the right to publish
those who deny the rights and wrongs of ecologists,
ecotherapeutic analysts,
forecasters,
truth-tellers of pathological unweaving health-assurance trends,
to speak and listen with and to and for and of us,
our cooperative global polyphonic potential together
is not a denial of free truth-telling speech,
because confusion between True and False Prophets
cannot lead to anything other than conspiracy fears
and angry unfreely shouted untruths.
Giving ego-manic mental illness a microphone
for spreading contagious fears and anger
especially among those already vulnerable,
troubled adolescents and children,
abused and shamed and hurt and lectured-to adults
of cooperative WinWin ignorance,
ensnared in monoculturing monopoly games
of Win to Lose LeftBrain supremacist
neglect.
Rather than giving my ecopolitical microphone
to further inflame unskilled unfree to speak Truth
competitive marketers of Anger and Fear Management
as our best autonomously suboptimizing hope,
I find it better to broadcast contagious cultures of ecotherapeutic wealth,
ego/eco-centering abundant health.
Copyright © Gerald Dillenbeck | Year Posted 2017
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Long poem by
T Wignesan | Details
Unquotable quotes: Fat People – XXIX
(I know this piece sounds mean and cruel but as every single parent must have experienced, this is also the expression of utter exasperation, and perhaps there’s also the slightest hint of an iota of necessary truth in it after all. No offence meant to those who may feel hurt. If you can laugh at yourself, you are well on the way to a cure, even if what you read is of very bad taste.)
The gravest danger facing mankind is NOT the Rio Olympics, NOT the greenhouse effect, NOT the nuclear arms race, NOT the organized immigrant or refugee terror attacks, NOT asteroids and meteorites slamming down on us, NOR the War of terrestrial gods coming to a head after three thousand years, but – you guessed it – HUMAN FAT, in other words, GLUTTONY!
Be it deemed of utmost importance that LAWS be so enacted by common consent among nations, and approved by the United Nations’ General Assembly, that whenever and wherever countries are stricken by widespread famine due to – or not – over-eating by over-sized people that these latter ought and should be slaughtered to feed the starving masses.
And should this extraordinary measure not suffice to relieve the emergency, then other nations being likewise depleted by the self-same variety of culprits in their midst should come to the aid of the afore-mentioned stricken country by dispatching plane and ship-loads of their own excess fat at the first drop of the hat. (Here, my own donation to the cause: a fifty-odd excess-weight progeny who can eat anyone out of house and home.)
Be it hereby known that it would be cheaper and easier for any nation to balance its payments if the State in question passes laws to put behind bars all who are oversized on the assumption, for once in there, they can be put on a starvation diet and forced to work to pay off their keep and chow, and this for the betterment of the human race at large.
There’s no crime more bloody or unseemly than the very act of becoming fat: watch the glutton eat and you’ll want to commit a capital crime.
The glutton will willingly forego sex to stuff himself in bed.
Chew, chew, chew your food, gently chew your meat; merrily, merrily keep adding to your rude seat!
Oh! How easy it is to say the fat man or woman is the victim of depression!
True, do them a favour and save them from themselves - by force!
What the future portends for them:
Imagine a future Olympics with fat athletes, even if it will attract more spectators for obvious reasons: the marathon might take four years to complete, if at all.
The Tour de France will have to be scrapped for no velo/bicycle will withstand the crush of the first downhill carambolage.
Restaurants in the near future will carry sign-boards saying: “Dogs and Fat People Please Take to Your Heels!”
All cars, buses, trains and planes will be equipped with single seats - half the size of those manufactured now.
The entrances to public lavatories will be reduced to half their present size for the specific purpose of preventing fat people from entering these facilities.
Fines for defecating in public places will be tripled or quadrupled.
The manufacture of clothing beyond the small-medium or X-size will be definitely banned.
Fat people who normally take up 90% of the walking space on pavements and sidewalks will be prohibited from wearing shoes and slippers.
Prostitutes will make fat people pay a whopping supplement equal to more than three or four times the usual fee.
The sale of chocolates and potato chips to fat people will be limited to one bar and one sachet once in a blue moon.
Travel agencies will be instructed to put fat people in the front of the plane’s seating arrangements to facilitate the de-capitation of the air-craft during the landing process.
No over-sized person will be allowed to present himself or herself for elective office at any level of government.
Beaches, spars and swimming pools will be out-of-bounds to over-sized people.
The fire-brigade and the emergency health services will be authorised to refuse first-aid to over-sized people struck down by a stroke or heart failure.
No over-sized person found in bed with or without another occupant in a nonplussed state will be given a burial according to his religious rites: he or they will be summarily immolated in that very bed without further ado.
Furthermore, at the rate populations all over the world grow increasingly fat, sooner rather than later even the porn industry will go fart: one would need to fart vigorously to locate the apertures in concealed flabs and folds of pits!
And, finally, to balance the weighing-machine, all manufacturers who grow fat on the weight-accumulating produce, such as, sweets, cakes, greasy meat, potato chips and the like that they churn out indifferently should be made to gorge themselves with their own merde!
© T. Wignesan – Paris, 2016
Copyright © T Wignesan | Year Posted 2016
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Long poem by
Dorine R Spruill | Details
Molested the first fifteen years of my life. My mother remained silent the whole time. As the molesting continued all those years. Forced to live a pretend life all my childhood. Beaten and punished every other day. For no reason other than being a child. After all this I figured I was a unwanted child. My mother couldn't love me abusing me. She brought me fancy expensive clothes every year. To cover up all her verbal, mental, and physical abuse. She tried to hide me from people, family and friends. So that they wouldn't see the embarrassing scars and bruises. Sometimes so bad I couldn't even go to school the next day. Or I would get into fights or act rude to get a suspension notice. That would have allowed my body to heal. One time I even tried to get ex-spelled. However, it didn't work. I only came home to more beatings. Her boyfriend watched and help hold me down on the floor as she would beat, and beat, and beat. Maybe this gave him a idea that it was ok to abuse me. Being that my mother was already doing it. Yeah! From the outside looking in my childhood was perfect. Every child wanted my seat. Name-brand clothes, shoes, computers, and almost every toy in the Jc Penny catalog. From the inside looking out I was screaming to get out. Scared, alone, abused, and still a child. So there was nothing I could do. I had no brothers or sisters at the time. All my family wouldn't believe me.No! Not him they would say, and did say at age fifteen I started getting older, and more developed. I had to put a stop to this. So after talking to some school friends. I decided to talk to my mother about what was going on. So later on that night I called my mother in to talk to her. I had told her what had been going on. while she was a work, and out late shopping. She in return asked me to draw a picture of his *****. As if she didn't believe me on the spot. What! I thought to myself. How could she ask me a thing like that? After one hour she finally called the police. I was brung in also for video questioning. I told them what had been going on in the house while my mother was away. The police in return asked me "what took so long for me to tell" I replied" I was scared, alone, and threatened. I had no one in the house to protect me. From my mothers abusive ways. I thought people would tease me." The next question was to my mother. The police asked "How could you live in the same house, and not know that your child was being raped?" My mother sat quietly and had no answer. So she got charged with neglect. My mother's boyfriend got charged with child molestation, and a few other things. I can't remember them all. After all that I was still scared, but finally free. Free to be a kid again.
Awh, hell the relationship between my mother and I went down the drain. After trial she hated me even more. Every day she was threatening to kick me out of the house. I was only sixteen so she couldn't just kick me out. Yet! She even got so angry at times. She went as far as not letting me communicate with my newborn brother. She even told people to keep him away from me. That hurt me so bad everyday. I prayed to God everyday to soften my mother's heart, but it never happened. When I turned eighteen she finally kicked me out the house for real. With no place to go, no money , and no food to eat. I ended up living with family and friends until she let me back in. I don't know why, but I thought things had changed. About a week after moving she called the police and told them that I was prostituting. Which was a lie. Thank God I didn't spend time in jail. Due to her lies and deceit. I never thought I would have to leave my own mother alone. However, after that incident that was my final decision. Sporadically I call her to hear her voice, and check on my brother. Unfortunately she never answers the phone. Her guilt for abusing me won't let her answer the phone.
I moved to Albany, NY for a fresh start. A new beginning! There I met more friends, moved into a brand new apartment, and fell in love. I wasn't expecting to fall in love, but I did. With a adorable, hot, and sexy Italian guy. For the first time my life was great, and I was happy. I even tried some plus size modeling, nursing, and I started self-publishing my writings. I was accomplishing things that my mother never encouraged me to do.
After about four years I started feeling homesick . So I came back to Virginia. Wow! What destruction was happening. My whole family fell apart. Nothing or nobody were the same. They all became police property. That was a sign to continue to stay away from them. Continue my happy life. Continue self-publishing my stories. Praying to God everyday. that I remain successful. This is a true story. Unfortunately it happened to me. From a mother who brung me in this world. Only to use and abuse me my whole entire childhood. Then pretend that nothings even going on.
Copyright © Dorine R Spruill | Year Posted 2013
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