Long Bitterest Poems
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The Antics Of A Would Be Mama's Yoyo Thief
(now a penchant with less Zionist trenchant ululation to vent.)
Not a peep passed thru mine -
aye vaguely attest
what ten? eleven? twelve? age
of following anecdote at best
guest, but no
doubt yours truly
with figurative heart in chest
scared puny meek boy
tight lipped silently confessed
to foiled attempt, sans trying
unsuccessfully to steal a yoyo,
inviting tummy prepubescent
unbuttoning, a substantially
sprawling Holy skype sizing breast
of mine upon be nabbed,
thus aye didst detest
foolish kid ploy, and
(prematurely nipping
in the bud) messed
up potential life of crime
with first and only
shoplifting heist jest
for getting caught no a pest
key yoyo, mama would
(IF FOUND OUT)
axe me no quest
chin, but whack me itty bitty
teensy weensy derriere lest
quickly putting to rest
any Robin Hood
fantasy life of
high stakes crime pressed,
and squeezed out the noggin
with apropos punishment addressed
thankfully, neither parent
got wind, nor ever guessed
their beautiful darling
boy did test
petty theft, never
matured nor didst crest
into a profitable "yoyo
string Ponzi like
scheme," thus ballsiest
dare devilish and bitterest,
and laughably noble lest
act yours truly ever attempted
immediately ceased to shelve bravest
sleight of hand find
delve during broad est
daylight, I immediately
didst shelve, when clumsiest
initial foray into
the world wide web
tubby come cleverest
lad, this side of
Lansdale, Pennsylvania
many damnedest
yesterdays ago, never
took another earnest
tempting gamble since security
detail nearly wrest
head possible zapped feeblest Ames?
to pilfer from other
Department stores if pressed
for money no matter,
I might miss an enforced
hated ballet class,
with abs salute zest!
There's a train lies awaiting
For my daughter and I
Areal in the making
Warm tears in my eye
The most precious of hearts
The purest of souls
As Oliver Twist
Our bare Begging bowl
Chorus
It is Love eternal rafts my tome
No house no flat to call our home
Friends near and far
A treasure each one
In a world not worth li ing
His Will Be Done
To trust un another
Who falls short as a Dad
Who's sisters and brother
Consider him mad
He does all he's able
Only God's on his side
As Jesus his saviour
Condemned, crucified
Chorus
Crucified, yet unbroken
On Calvarys Hill
Olanzipine dreams
The bitterest pill
For a cure to be found
Help me carry my cross
No lights on the shore
Lord, I'm struggling and lost
So take your best shot
In a world worth the living
No ifs, buts nor maybes
Know that you'll be forgiven
With God on your side
Climb your Calvarys Hill
And know in the end
What you've done is His will
Chorus repeat
it's forbidden for me to love
yet thoughts light on me like a dove
with hell fire beaconing me to fly away
yet my soul welcomes sweet ideals to stay
don't go away; stay
in my arms
sway to songs
written so long ago
but ancient ears listen
and spread rumors to eyes that glisten
how hungry are those that wait
who's hearts become filled with hate
and malice intended for the sake of hate
that causes worlds to shake
and feet to slip into fiery lake
dragged down by those forsaken
those from whom love was taken
they open our mouths and feed us hate
the sweetness of love has left
the bitterest taste
true repentance reveals our mistake
safety of life and sanity at stake
from whom love may requires
our life take
Form:
The pains of those ailments that grab us at will
Once better, like stalkers, can linger on still
But it’s patently true that life’s bitterest pill
Is the pain when it’s someone you love that is ill
When struck down, bedridden, we try to be brave
Though we feel our survival might be a close shave
But we’d gladly accept our God’s beckoning wave
If that keeps our loved one away from their grave
*
And so when I hear that slight tremor of fear
No hug and no words for the one I hold dear
Can bring forth a smile full of genuine cheer
And that forehead kiss… conceals my own tear
At night, to the God in whom I don’t believe
I sheepishly say, “I don’t want her to leave.”
I snuggle up close, I’m not ready to grieve
And I smile in the morning as I hear her breathe
The doctors I’ve trusted I must trust in still
For they’ll mend her again; I’m sure that they will
But it’s patently true that life’s bitterest pill
Is the pain when it’s someone you love that is ill
I strip in the solitude of my room.
the mirror reflects secrets that I keep.
All the silent screams of my faint life’s doom,
visible unhealed scars that hurt so deep.
Still I dream of you, naked in silence,
Nosy fingers deepening on my skin.
Scared of your rage when love stays in suspense,
Before your decree I hide with my sin .
Because I know you and how do you think.
It is not your fault life made you like this.
Crying in despair swallowing this ink,
so your eyes don’t see holes in my abyss.
In pain I must gulp the bitterest of drinks:
When flawed looks are heavy the ship of love sinks.
The truth was concealed with many branches,
viscous web woven of half-truths and lies;
hidden, the spider spun a silk repugnant
off a sticky tongue prone to moralize.
Newly emerged with dewy wings unfurled,
she fanned them, innocently unaware,
among fragrant blossoms naively sweeping
green garden border, concealing his snare.
At last the sweet sun rays warmed and dried her;
she was ready to lift bright wings and fly.
New vistas, new horizons awaited
this adventurous lady butterfly.
Into the clear, clean air softly rising,
faltering with the newness of fresh wings,
she dips low among the flower faces,
is imprisoned in gummy, wet web strings.
Just one moment - innocence is plundered
and whirled round and round - bitterest cocoon;
he pivots in springing, gleeful madness
to add the trophy to his black festoon.
Copyright, August 8, 2016
Its the year 2012
Predictions came true
Earth as we know
Has bitten more, than we can chew
Solar flares
Descended today
We knew they were coming
In deadly rays
All it took
From detection to earth
Was fifteen minutes
Sunburst finish
The oceans have risen
The flood plains reclaimed
Millions have been lost
Drowned, homeless or maimed
Its now 2013
And our atmosphere's shattered
With the polar caps melted
We now must do what matters
As we came to terms
The invasion came
Its as if they had waited
For we were their gain
Where they came from
We do not know
They are more advanced than us
As we take blow by blow
Paris my home city
Is under water
The Eiffel Tower distorted
As i watch the slaughter
As i look to the sky
Their mother-ship hovers
With fighters aplenty
We have no place to cover
Belongings, bodies
The stench of disease
As we are constantly pounded
With precision and ease
Our airfields and armies
Obliterated to nil
The human race as it stands
Tastes the bitterest of pill
Then in mid July
We heard some news
From the Atlantic deep
Now Paris is viewing
Three missiles
Broke from the blue
To their mother-ship headed
All aimed and true
Our navies were lost
But the ships of the deep
Escaped the rays
While the polar flares steeped
It took many, many months
As the invaders were brought down
To the waters we have grown used to
It was their turn to drown
Why they were here
We still do not know
For tomorrow is a new day
As us survivors will show
One thing we do know
And we know this for sure
Our world will never be
The way it was before
http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/fantasy-11.php
I, (though ye feel averse associating
with birth father) attest,
perhaps undeserving your vicariously quest
regaling, surmounting, and triumphing
storied Penn ultimate academic conquest
affirms his pride and joy at
stellar success no credit to this beastliest
inept papa, who winces with tragicomic,
woe how animosity toward me increased
smoldering rage at actual/
perceived paternal transgressions,
and do not expect to receive forgiveness
within your wounded breast,
but please allow this opportunity
to suspend any smarting rancorous
loathing, and bitterest
emotions that still sting from deep
seated psychological wounds
indelibly piercing chest
within eldest daughter,
whose unconditional boundless love
spurs whim to express
optimism at Edenic future blest
with praiseworthy largesse of commendable
laudatory, and noteworthy brainiest
accomplishments driven by ambition,
doggedness, perseverance, cleverest
ploy, plus revulsion emotionally costliest
psyche rent asunder courtesy yours truly,
he will not challenge, nor counterprotest
thee, asper his (i.e. mine) crassest
peccadillos, and significant damnedest
accursed personal weaknesses thee detest,
and unintentionally unpleasantly
impacted impressionable offspring, I dust
regret, and thus
figurative figleaf extended
without any expectations, though earnest
sincerity to accept culpability, asper
your anger, animosity, antipathy
maybe ranked as evilest
person on Earth, nonetheless,
and perhaps futile attempt feeblest
against affecting, sans fondest
best wishes despite scathing foulest
faux pas, I abhor lament ghastliest
inflicted upon an innocent progeny,
whose truevalue impossible grandest
to assess preciousness bestowed,
and wisdom proffered as biological guest,
now on her way to glory with handsomest
eminent beau linkedin heading toward happiest
days awaiting as ye embark
on destination unknown - honest!
What burns for a blink yet refuses to die,
gone in a snap, yet is still passing by?
What stretches from the cradle to Hades' gate,
past faces it should fear, past moments it should save?
What runs without motion, marches without sound,
sometimes falls to its knees and hides like a clown?
What am I?
I’m dew that appears where no water has been,
crowns forged from nothing on leaves ever green.
I’m dust; invisible, yet that fills every room,
lit briefly into treasure, then lost before noon.
I come from the stardust you watch through a screen;
I'm the tallest tower, the wildflowers and everything in between.
Who am I?
I could be a breeze with no air to breathe
clutching a sunset the day won’t release,
or a storm with no lightning in its hands,
that pockets subtly the foreign lands.
I could be glass without shape and sand without age,
a masterpiece framed, a mess on your dining plate.
What will I be?
You’ll find me where tunnels swallow their starts,
where rats learn your name and the dark calls you 'heart.
I'll rise, hand in yours, up to the tallest peaks,
and find myself sprinkles on top of sweet summer treats.
I’ll sleep in perfumes that lie fragrant and still,
and rattle awake with the bitterest pill.
Where am I?
E x h a l e
Listen-
to my breath.
Who will you make me?
How does one consolidate such great feeling,
Such knowledge, such powerful, almost frightful thought?
Those passionate notions
That I am sudden to see
Unconscious revelations
Making themselves known
How has it then made itself known to me, to you, and all others
And yet, has failed to be seen to the one that truly matters
The one that will make it all better
Does he see it and scoff?
Does she close her ears to the compositions of your life?
I’ve known many deaf to such arts
I will know many more in the years to come
And of course, I am left to see your deep lakes of pains
I get it—I want to be known and plunged into
To be discovered beneath the wailing surface
Into the depths of deeper comprehension
And I want every single drop to matter
To the one that will make it all better
To the one who believes in the purpose of words
I have tried to muster such a brilliance for years,
And more so to recapture your curiosity for my existence
While the natural, bloodless pains seep into every wrong region
Eyes closing with disgust and misinterpretation
Shaming the one and only confidence “a poem” has earned
Could you not even acknowledge at least, my struggle?
Could you not admire the work, the effort, the sweat of futile determination?
Would you dare even drink from it,
From the poison of bitterest truth?
6/25/18
4:00AM