Long Behind Poems
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6-22-2015
It was the last door for me to open.
I didn’t know what lay behind, hidden
Forgotten memories, feelings packed high?
Or if not forgotten, just painful. Lost.
It’s not special, chosen… But it's the last.
And it must open to finish my task
Twelve long months I’ve cleaned, twelve months long I’ve toiled.
Alone I’ve removed the detritus, ash,
Leftovers from a party unwanted.
The furniture was destroyed, bespoiled, torn
Trash and garbage stank, the rooms were quite soiled.
Gagged with what I saw, I retched at the thought
I allowed this to happen, decided
Naught. But now all clean were the rooms, the halls
The funk was removed, the place was renewed
Less this last door in the shadows of thought.
...And then, I opened that door. Hidden. Last.
Once upon a time:
a wet market bat eater
turned humanity into mask-wearing
double-ply paper-hoarding survivalist.
Rapist and assorted ogres were being set free
while citizens were cuffed for walking beaches
San Fran libs gave free housing to convicts and druggies
while teachers lived in vans and cars like degreeless hippies...
PEOPLE! This is just a glimpse of what is to come
what happens when a rogue sets off a dirty bomb
millions of desperados will be displaced overnight
they'll disperse into the gun-stripped suburbs
frantically- hungry- dirty-minded
willing to snuff your life
for a little grub and
a sparkling behind
"crazy" preppers
were oh-so right...
once upon a time.
Everyone's a Winner
They told me I was remarkable
and now it's plain to see
There is nothing extraordinary
about simple little me
All the ribbons I have hanging
Upon the shelf so high
They said I was a winner
all I had to do was try
It wasn't about competition
Every child was told to have fun
They said we were the very best
Each child born to be number one
So out in the world they sent me
Unequipped for what I'd find
With the legend of my accomplishments
sadly this illusion was In my mind
No one was there to help me
The competition was far too real
It felt like other were driving the bus
Even though I was behind the wheel
Let your children know failure
So they can learn to compete
In a world of winners and losers
They'll learn to think on their feet
For adversity leads to greatness
Each loss will point to a win
If I already think I am a winner
What reason do I have to begin
In an age of no grades and trophies for every kid, we are losing our risk takers. We can't insulate our children from what lies ahead. It is a competitive world and we are sewing the seeds of failure. I know there are many young people who don't fall into this category and they are the ones who will drive innovation and growth.
do not fret
i am only a thief when it comes to your heart
i am just greedy when it comes to the rest of you
when i see you walk, especially from behind, freaky feelings consume me
the acutual factual is so much better than the scheme of a dream when it comes to you
sometimes i just sit up at night and wonder what you see in me
i smile a little bit as you turn over on your stomach
my tongue starts to tingle and i feel as if i am breaking out in a sweat
yet i remain the calm, cool, and cute person that i am and practice patience
i know what is good for me....and that is definitely you in a good mood and fully awake
deep inside though, i wanna be a thief in the night and just take you from every beautiful angle
however, i choose the simplicity of admiration because you mean a whole lot more to me than just that
i eventually lay my horny self back down and enjoy the arrangements and the lingering melodies in my head
it lulls me into somewhat of a deep sleep....that is....until i feel a welcomingly familiar movement under the covers....
the rest....is dismissed as pure imagination
Labyrinth paths, winding and twisting, a serpentine meandering,
otherworldly, ethereal, much too dreamy, lost and wandering;
saturnine, long raven sparkling hair that I hide behind, woefully,
tangled in the branches and thorns of life, lost hopelessly.
And then I found poetry and I pen my sorrow in verses bleeding,
now I swirl with beautiful words and send them in the universe, soaring;
writing my sadness is intoxicating, but also it can be a dreadful curse hurting,
prisoner of the past, locked in chains, can I begin to reverse, be a new me changing.
Entwined in words that I put away, I found them still waiting,
with a painful heart, I write my tangled, thorny journey, my hand trembling;
unraveling the weave of chaotic corridors in my life, I fall to my knees, praying,
oh will others love my verses penned, will they weep sadly when I write the aching?
In the shady silent forest, a shimmering snake seeks it's sanctuary, slithering,
beautiful definitely, and like the iridescent snake, I hide lost intentionally;
hidden, safe, melancholy, until the sun has found my soul delicately,
labyrinth paths, winding and twisting, a serpentine meandering;
___________________________
February 3, 2016
Acrostic/Mono Rhyme/Alliteration/Internal Rhyme
Copyright Protected, ID 16-751-710-0
All Rights Reserved. Written under Pseudonym.
Theme chosen, Lost and Found
Written for the contest, 4 x 4 Pairing, Master Rhyme,
sponsor, Silent One
Second Place
Skimming through the pages of core memories
Burnt yellow walls adorned with Western art on Blake Road
Watching Merlin with my siblings
Climbing an abandoned tree house behind our land
Fishin' near a ditch with a family of snails
Hiding in the barn while journaling
Hearing coyotes in the night
Chasing the sun before the horizon
Having picnics in the Sandia Mountains
Harvesting our vegetables and fruit
Seeing Jocelyn was the highlight of my day
Vivi swerving in her Kia on Central as we listen to 1901 by Phoenix–
Let me sink into the pages and reminisce my childhood.
Time has stolen from me
Where is my pause?
Where’s the mother tree?
Where am I now?
Please, let me be part of a moment that punctured my heart
I could go on and on…
Maybe I am caged to what was once a rush.
The clock in the Cabinet room struck midnight, then fear.
Each tick was a boot heel approaching the ear.
The map was a scar, turning red with the tide,
Where the promise of safety had nowhere to hide.
?A grey wind was blowing from a continent lost,
And the price of defiance was more than the cost
Of the gold in the vault or the ships on the sea,
But the spirit itself, and the will to be free.
?Bleakness approached, a cold, heavy rain,
It dampened the resolve, it clouded the brain.
They spoke of détente, of peace that could be,
A whisper of surrender across the dark tea.
The weight of the world, a stone in one's hand,
The choice of one man for a beleaguered land.
The generals murmured of odds too severe,
The end of an empire drawing too near.
?But a roar was awakened beneath the dull dread,
Not a bullet, but words the old lion had bred.
No smooth, subtle logic, no clever defense,
But a will unyielding, a terrible sense
Of the final last stand, and the duty defined,
To leave no stone unturned, no honor behind.
?What saves you is the memory of who you must be.
The grit in the mouth of the common decree.
The fisherman, the factory hand, and the clerk,
Refusing to bow in the perilous dark.
?The challenge was faced by that voice, rough and deep,
That told the tired nation it never could sleep.
And the island stood firm, not on metal or might,
But the strength of a spirit that welcomed the fight
early 50's
don't mean maybe
here i come
slap the baby
hear me screaming
now i'm breathing
the proud parents
really beaming
mid december
it is chilly
named me mike
instead of billy
adolescence
before you know it
kind of shy
don't you blow it
moved away
because of dad
left behind
friends i had
teenage years
finally settled
florida
from seattle
culture shock
plus the weather
all i had
sonic sweaters
took no time
skin to leather
from the color
alabaster
here's the years
i discovered
full time friends
part time lovers
a few times
things got drastic
drank to much
acted spastic
laid around
worked on fattening
mom and dad
were not laughing
as they begged
on their knees
find a job
so you can leave
i joined in
the military
with no war
not too scary
found a girl
we got married
had some kids
now it's scary
lost my job
lost my dime
standing in
unemployment lines
found a job
things are fine
moving to
the prime of life
with the kids
still at home
things are moving
right along
from the left
to the right
that's the story
of my life
As the dark veil covered the sky,
I was left with no choice but to resign to fate.
The enemy was relentless in their pursuit—
My platoon scattered after the strike on Khartoum.
Only two bullets remain~
One to kill another,
The other for myself.
I was lucky to find an abandoned trench—
wide enough to let my eyes rest.
Too fatigued to resist sleep,
I hit the hay and slept like a log.
Then I heard voices nearby.
From that hole I laid in, I could see them clearly—
They were South Sudanese soldiers~
the enemy soldiers.
They chattered loudly, so I knew they shared
a fate not so different from mine...
Only that we were enemies—
oil and water don’t mix.
Thank God for the darkness and the trench,
I was hidden from their view.
At least four hours of night
would still conceal my identity—
or so I thought.
Then, about ten minutes later,
I saw a large black snake,
its scales gleaming even in that darkness,
crawling toward my hole—
from the opposite side of the enemy soldiers.
From the way it moved, I knew—
that hole was its home.
It was returning for a late-night nap.
I had no choice but to leap from the trench
and run toward the enemy soldiers.
I could feel the heavy clouds hanging over them
as they scattered in opposite directions.
I ran between their fear,
the sound of scales closing in behind me—
the snake sniffing at my heels.
I ran.
My lungs were like chains
tightening with each breath—
but still I ran,
my heels kicking the back of my head.
And I remembered:
I still had two bullets remaining—
One to kill another,
The other for myself.
My helmet burned like a furnace.
I jolted awake—still in the trench.
No snake.
No soldiers.
Just shadows.
The nightmare had ended,
but my chest still heaved
from that breathless, imaginary run.
I felt the gun still on my chest,
reached for the bullets—
they were still there.
And I remembered:
One is to kill another,
The other for myself.
Clumsily tripping, over our own feet
Sometimes, minds aren't meant to meet
perhaps we're off just a micro beat
thoughts obscured, behind glass covered in sleet
Sure there are those, who wish to exploit
but really in the end, what's the point?
We're all merely visitors, in this joint
Trying our best, with words to annoint
Cloisterd in shadows, wanting to be found
glimmers of earlier selves, clowning around
When others laugh, why do our fears compound?
Downturned mouths, strangled crying sounds
Embarrassing moments, last an eternity
Sometimes I'm my very worst enemy
Thinking hidden messages, are meant for me
Is that what poetry is meant to be?
I let essential words, roll off my lips
Credentials have no taste, when I take deep sips
Preferring a message, from a page that drips
My mind unfocused, takes many trips
I like the power, of words intrinsic
Flavors and texture, is what I like to lick
If it's too saccharin and sweet it makes me sick
My pleasure comes, from words hot and thick
So you see, I too like to word explore
Words found, behind a cryptic door
I start upright, end up on the floor
Keep on reading, until I can't absorb anymore!
Written at the request of James Horn.
Response to his "to Come Back Again" Poem.
Thanks James, our interaction led to a poem of the day!
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