Long Car accident Poems
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I first met him when I was only five years old,
And in the hospital with a serious disease;
For a minute he stood hovering over me,
But with the boy in the other bed he took his leave.
I saw him again after a car accident,
When for a moment I was in an unconscious state;
I told him I wasn’t ready to leave with him,
His visit must be a mistake.
Then I saw him roaming the hospital halls,
When recovering from my heart attack;
He said he had others to take with him,
For me he would have to come back.
I have gotten somewhat used to his freezing breath,
And the emptiness in his hollow eyes;
I am no longer frightened by his hopelessness,
And of his demeanor I am no longer surprised.
He has escorted away one brother,
My grandfathers and grandmothers, too;
He has accompanied aunts and uncles
Into the afterlife hue.
A couple of friends were taken too soon,
He really doesn’t discriminate;
I don’t ask why I’ve survived three visits,
I do not dare to tempt my fate.
But now I know I can greet him peacefully,
Without fear or awful regret;
For the black shadow of the grim reaper
Three times I have already met.
Fog appeared in the solitary highway. A woman with a white gown was walking with a blank stare without a fixed route. Meanwhile, in an activity lounge, were a group of guests and the groom waiting for the bride. An espousal ceremony and reception were going to take place. It was 7:00 p.m. The bride's father received a grievous. Her daughter perished in a car accident. The white limousine were the bride was transported, collided with a lorry. His tears announced without utter a word the terrible outcome.
The woman walking in the highway was the frustrated bride trying to arrive to her wedding. The ceremony was suspended and three days later, she was buried with her bride gown. Groom was so heart broken with the loss of her would be bride, that he passed away. He was buried besides his beloved two days later. One year later, a white Cala bloomed near the tombstone, as symbol of the love that transcends death and eternity.
4-20-16
In the name of God,
myriads of innocents have been slain.
In a time of war,
God takes sides, they enthusiastically proclaim.
But,
What effect does this teaching have,
on all the masses?
Those pawns in the game,
found among all the classes?
They say God is dead, because they just don't understand,
Why pain and suffering is in the heart of every child and man.
But,
They're not to blame, for feeling the way that they do,
Those looked to for answers, just don't teach them the truth.
In the name of God they teach,
When innocent people die in earthquakes, and in fires.
The clergy tell them "it's God's will", that's what he desires.
That he kills innocent children, even if it's a car accident,
They paint God cruel, and sadistic, but, he takes offense.
He sees their failure to lead his hungry sheep to greener pastures.
Distracting them all with, supercilious, heavenly ever afters.
People need real answers, ones that really satisfy the hungry soul,
leaders dressed in white, point to politics, as their spiritual goal.
In the name of God, they abuse the innocent young children.
Then cover it up, saying they represent the true religion.
No wonder people leave, en masse, the mainstream churches,
They feel abandoned, thirsty for truth, but, left in the lurches.
In the name of God. they teach, Adam and Eve are mere fables,
An allegorical story to be recited, around bedtime tables.
But,
Take a second look at Genesis, it records the human family tree.
Tracing our history from Adam to Abraham, it's all our geneology.
In the name of God, they teach as truth, the theory of evolution.
That artfully contrived story, supposed history, with no real solution.
In the name of God, they persecute, and kill all true Christians.
In the name of God, and their corruption of the true religion.
But,
God sees it all, the lies, the pain caused by malevolent deception.
They'll all get what they deserve, Divine judgement, without exception.
John Derek Hamilton November 09,2015
Balloonitarian Groups believe when death comes to visit a loved one, the string attached to the balloon of life also containing the soul is released, then slowly there's an ascent delivering them higher into the forever sky, drifting wherever the gentle breeze carries souls, all sins are forgiven as they diffuse from the balloon along with the noble gas escaping into the boundless atmosphere, leisurely, lazily moving downward, finally coming to rest somewhere on the surface of the Mystic Ocean, bobbing back and forth to the gentle rhythm of waves, where soon a seal or possibly a sea tortoise, will swallow the polymer remains of the balloon whole, causing it to choke to death.
***
Backstory to this poem.
I was attending a Grief Support group dealing with my severe grief over my daughter McKenzie's death in a car accident caused by a careless driver. The Therapist group leader announced that next Saturday we will be attending a multi-group event to release balloons into the sky in memory of our loved ones that had passed.
I told the group leader I wouldn't be attending the event. She attempted to change my mind telling me it was time to face my grief and this event is designed to release that grief. I explained my reason by telling her this story;
Years ago when my daughter McKenzie was at the age of just nine. We were enjoying a carnival in Tucson with the entire family. McKenzie began crying for no apparent reason. When I asked why she was shedding all those tears.
She pointed to the sky where I noticed a red helium balloon sailing into the blue Arizona sky.
In a sincere voice she said:
"Look at the balloon flying away.
Now a Seal or Sea Tortoise is going to die."
I explained my reason to not attend the event by telling the Group Leader the story. I'm not sure she understood. I never returned to the group.
JSB
A beautiful young woman who came from very near,
was off and running with a great acting career.
She starred in a movie with Clark Gable titled "Mogambo".
Later, she was paired with James Stewart in "Rear Window".
A great film by the name of "High Society" would show.
There were a few other movies we would get to know.
This actress soon met the prince from the tiny country of Monaco.
They tied the knot, and off she would go.
For this lucky prince, Grace made a wonderful wife.
Tragically, a fatal car accident took her life.
I thank imdb.com for valuable information I obtained to write this poem.
When I had a car accident several years ago, I had quite the scare.
My brakes went out and I crashed and I'm confined to a wheelchair.
I'll never walk again, I'll be in this wheelchair for the rest of my life.
Because she didn't want to be married to a cripple, I lost my wife.
I was a phony faith healer and I perpetrated a fraud.
But I didn't get away with it, I was punished by God.
I would scam innocent people out of their bread.
I'm in a wheelchair and I'm lucky not to be dead.
Some may think it wasn't God's punishment but I know that it was.
I learned that a man has to pay for the wicked things that he does.
I'll suffer for the rest of my days because of my car that was driven.
I asked the Lord to forgive me for my sin and I have been forgiven.
I have some advice and you'd better listen to the words that I say.
Don't use the Lord to scam people because if you do, you will pay.
In the mid 80's, I took a job as a receptionist for a wholesale floral company.
Encased in a glass claustrophobic space, I answered their busy phone lines
as I gazed at the warehouse walls of greenery and the production staff scrambling to fill their daily delivery orders to florists and offices.
The days began early. We punched in at 6:00 am. I arrived in a mind fog,
downing my caffeine until my body's sluggishness wore off. It was a mindless
job and I stayed a mere six weeks at most but during that short window of time there, I had two very prophetic dreams involving co-workers.
The first and less memorable involved one of our delivery drivers. I dreamt that the police had caught him drinking while driving and he was subsequently terminated. About a week later, this dream came to fruition.
The second and must more poignant dream involved Jerry, a young flower
salesman in his late twenties. I dreamt that Jerry had fallen thru a sliding glass door. He was holding the hand of a small child, perhaps two or three years old.
It was very graphic as I saw the shards of broken glass scatter as they hit the floor. With in a few days, Jerry ended up in intensive care after a car accident with his truck. I was extremely rattled by the dream and also concerned about his welfare, although I barely knew him personally. I approached Heather, a secretary there and shared my dream with her. Heater told me that Jerry had been previously married and that he and his former wife had a child that passed at a very young age.
I might be mildly intuitive but I have never had such poignant dreams since that job. Is it plausible that I was being influenced by my green house environment there? Could it be possible that plants have always been open to communicating with us but that we humans remain mostly inattentive to their messages?
Let us drift from far away to being there,
and see where it will take us, let us prepare,
bridging that opening from abstract to true,
for a cruise of dreams to the truth of presence,
grasping experience being where it counts,
making the unknown known, mirror that matter.
A broken tricycle, a leg cast, prepare,
for the schoolyard of kids' mouths to ears, matter,
scratched words and sketches of art in my presence.
Parents laughed, "That's not art?" Nope, Japanese counts?
ABC until fancy, 123, there!
How many years of this? Some fun, and not true.
Offense tricky, defense nasty, trophy counts,
ratios and fractions, Algebra methinks true,
cursive script, Calligraphy, I must prepare,
write a review of the movie we saw there,
flip eggs without a mop, takes time, no matter.
Graduation Day, in my parents' presence.
Now, baby makes three, mom, you, and me, matter.
Caribbean in the 70s presence.
I got my first house at twenty years old, there,
Now, I'm 21, and I hate beer; that's true.
Our family grows; road trips, I must prepare.
Oakland, Caribe, and Montreal, it all counts.
Bellman Tom Hanks blogs about his tenure, true,
Tom's the culprit of my wayward poem, from there,
Hustler's Mag. paid me ($). Christian poem, ugh, that counts?
Oakland Airport Hilton Inn, me (?), no matter,
'Apollo 13,' 'Da Vinci's'; post presence,
Ron Howard, a month here, got 'Splash', too; prepare.
Worked the desk, or at home; calls, comp. vids. presence,
Nineteen-seventy-six/twenty-sixteen, counts,
forty years; retired. Family matter,
moving back with the kids as I now prepare.
Spanish wife passed two thousand one; she's missed true.
Four boys, three girls, fourteen grand, five great-grand, there.
Besides my wife, my third son passed in a car accident there, in his wife's presence. The kids will prepare for my arrival, home, and possessions sold, not my acreages of land, that's matter for the kids. My family counts, it's time for us to gather, until my number comes true.
"Referencing an old poetic imagism sort of poem I wrote some four years ago--almost to the day---wherein lies a paradox," ... by The Poet.
MIRROR, MIRROR
I was in a room,
there, I saw a mirror,
and then I saw him,
I told him to get out,
and he did,
and he took the mirror,
and I was no more.
--The End--
Part III of what ascribed
was written four years ago
these were words, phrases
loose ends scattered about
to be used for that created
poem that resulted in that
"Mirror Mirror" of which none
of those extraneous "Helter
Skelter" <--(minus this aspect
for the religious reflection) do
not exist anywhere on Mirror. All
hanging, brought together--not
yesterday, again, I reiterate, not
too long ago, loose words of four
years ago brought together with
a minute few added to make sense
of it--and voila, the consequence.
Hence, I am
the last of four bloodlines
all these words I've consign
to benefit others, and be wary
of the slightest that you do,
you turn left--a car accident to
the right, you don't go to work--
there's an office with fatalities.
For me, I'm resigned
to this paradigm
of mine
four years
nonsensical
... hoping it stays so, now that I know.
A perfect triangle
As he stood in the shadow
Of the dead eye windows of his home
His face alway up
Stars or cries of cloud
his theatre
The sounds that based from his neon lit blue ears
He tugged at some oversized hood
Like a monk struggling to damper the candles for nighttimes prayers
Answered with a monotone of shadows nod
The passing friend fed a gentle wave
You ever want to say to someone
Can you please stop this conversation before one of us dies -nothing to do with poem but I share
Unsure where shadow says
Sometimes his profile
glimpsed in the orange
of his cigarette
Spelling candy in
Only two leters
t get back up there
Sometimes caught him tapping his feet
against the wall
Lost in the sound of his garbled favourite sounds
I try not be surreal so the reals think I am real
Rain splatter dropping seemingly in time
To his hooded droo
………………….,.,…ping nod
matching its scratching tempo
His breath hesitant on the ice that paraded as the wind
imagining we are only ones that imagine
Above us only sky
I always just looked out
No moonlight only more sun
Does that mean every song lied
More sunlight serenade doesn’t quite hit the
Mark unalived in car accident
Left quite a
To Mark everyone
Last funeral I was ever asked to talk at
Coincidence why what’s