Long Entirely Poems
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Lucinda Brown was only seventeen
when you youth came to a dreadful end,
that was the night her home was invaded
by three vicious and horny young men.
When her father tried to confront them
they shot the poor man right in the spine,
found Lucinda and her scared mother,
it was obvious what they had in mind.
Lucinda won’t talk about what happened,
it’s hard enough having it in her head,
she and he mother woke up the next day,
they were battered, and bruised…and naked.
The police came and did what they had to,
took statements and samples of DNA,
but it matched no one in the system
so the bastard rapists got away.
Both Lucinda and her mom were shattered,
she wouldn’t leave her room for near a month,
started to think how defenseless she’d been,
started thinking of buying a gun.
Her mother took a much different approach,
she went around lecturing about ‘hate,’
became a hero amongst certain crowds
for saying,”We must teach men not to rape!”
Now this didn’t make much sense to Lucy,
everyone knew that rape was a crime,
this wasn’t a question of ignorance,
was a question of sick and twisted minds.
Fighting the wrong problem did no damn good,
it was an effort entirely in vain,
and what sense to did it make spending every day
reliving the greatest of your pains?
Three months later, upon a rare day
when he mother had come home for diner,
Lucinda mentioned a concealed carry class,
told her mom there was still a slot for her.
Lucinda had thought she would be onboard,
to take command and protect their own lives,
instead her mother got red in the face,
screamed,”Have you learned nothing from that night?
“Did you not see what guns did to you dad?
What those guns let them do to us both?
You’d sink to their level, pick up their tools,
I cannot say which though offends me most:
“That my daughter would be so simple-minded,
or that my little girl thinks she should kill.”
Said Lucy,”If it means I won’t be raped,
then I’m telling you right now, I will.”
The next three months until graduation
were difficult, their relationship cold,
when Lucy moved out, the first thing she did
was buy a thirty caliber pistol...
CONCLUDES IN PART II.
When our granddaughter asked us to help her with a project…something about an egg
she didn’t need to ask us twice…she didn’t have to beg.
because we know that time is fleeting…and as our grandchildren grow
the more memories we can make the better…so never will we say no…
Her project: to design a contraption…a creation of her own making
that when dropped from a certain height…will protect an egg from breaking.
Her job: to draw up blueprints and ready a report…
Our job: to offer assistance, guidance and support.
We tried three different contraptions…(they could be no bigger than a soccer ball)
and to our amazement, once each was dropped, the egg didn’t break at all!
Three entirely different contraptions and not one egg did we abuse
and now it’s up to her to decide which one she will use.
The collaboration was fun for us…as we watched her give each egg a throw
and we thought how lucky we have been watch our grandchildren grow.
How we were glad to be of help…glad to have saved one egg from breaking…
and glad to add another memory to a lifetime we are making.
She thanked us for helping her with her egg…and as we headed out the door
we smiled knowing it wasn’t just about an egg…
it was about so much more.
How did all this begin
How did this illness start
When I was being torn to pieces
Or when I was completely ripped
apart
Everyday being consumed with intense unrelenting sadness
Not understanding why pushed me
further into madness
As my mental health continued to
quickly decline
Dark clouds rolled in the sun just
wouldn’t shine
These overpowering emotions I just
couldn’t control
Every bit of hope I once had they had
entirely stole
Emotional overload was bursting out
at the seams
The deafening sound of my own
internal tortured screams
Overwhelmed broken and knocked
down to my knees
This depression of mine will surely be
my fatal disease
Poem- Salt
Poet- Aditya Aneek
Reciter- Shimul Mustapha
In a book fair, theater, cafe, on the first day of Bangla calendar, around the festive Valentine day
An ordinary boy is he, if one overlooks his insinuating efforts to catch a glimpse of her attention
She, as per beauty and diva goes hand in hand to fashion and attire, fits entirely an adjective
In a flock of Butterflies, among a group of youngsters, The boy is an utter misfit, an outlier
Even though he, a lion heart, approached her one day at last, “Will we have tea together?”
With his brave proposal in, utterly astonished she pondered for a while,then surmised, “let’s go.”
Sitting with her, face to face, he had a butterfly in his stomach
With his dry mouth, he sipped his cup of tea and then, “Waiter, please salt, here.”
With astonishment in her face, she asked, “ Will you have salt in your tea?”
The boy answered, “Yes, I was born around the seashore, along the salty foamy sea waves.
Once I have a sip through the salty tea, I see my village, picturesque
And the faces of my parents, floating around with the salty foamy sea, floating far.”
Silent a soul, she, heard the boy, and then replied
"I have never been to the sea, my home lies there in the mountaintop."
There, the subtle clouds touch there in the gentle most surreal, as a feather of a bird
The mountain and the sea, closely knitted there, day by day, a story , dense in heartfelt warmth
Then a marriage, a nest, at last a duo, aged through the grace of time passed.
The old man, before dying, handed the old lady a letter to request, “Open once I‘m gone.”
Once he died, the old lady, opened the letter, It had this written there
"I never could take tea with salt, ever
A startled one, I, stumbled in mumbling then , with salt, to ask sugar in stead
And then had an immediate cover up story of that type, to en wrap.
And so, had the forty years follow through with cups of tea with a pinch of salt.
The salt tea made by you is sweet."
The old lady went to her neighbors one day. They served her tea.
She asked, “ A bit of salt, please.”
Astonished, the neighbor asked, “Will you take salt in your tea?”
She replied, “Yes. The tea with salt is sweet.”
I didn't want anyone
to have a sad Christmas,
so I roamed Manhattan's star-decorated streets,
where many a homeless weeps...
where was I to find that someone,
if not in that corner where a barrel fire was?
By God's grace, I found that unhappy person in ragged clothes
to give my four presents to,
ending the drama of his woe
by bringing coat, shoes, gloves and a long scarf
to erase the misery of a beggar whose cold night was rough;
he widely smiled when I leaned forward and offered him my gifts!
Bewildered folks wearing the latest fashion attire, did not have
the decency of stooping down and give him a single quarter,
and doing so they killed the Christmas' spirit entirely...
a generous spirit well-known in this city; yes, my anger
could have made me lash out at them with indignation,
but realizing how greedy people can be withholding love:
I gasped in relief to discover a creche of our Savior so cheery
along the festive Fifth Avenue to get rid of my frustration!
What I found there was a Heaven-inspired sight
of gleaming angel's hovering the stable announcing Christ's glorious birth...
while beneath bang-pipers and trumpets players, glowing with mirth,
accompanied the youngest choir singing, "Holy Night."
Perhaps venturing out in the cold of the wealthiest city,
gave me the opportunity to realize the hidden goodness of kind souls
that give away their humble presents in various forms,
not expecting anything in return...but rejoice in the delightful sound of harmony.
What if great transitional chains of Being
were to mysterious dream transform
into a rather mid-way
invitation every day
depths of therapeutic Becoming?
Would we accept such a green fresh
democratic
cultural invitation?
With open arms
and redeeming heart
and double-bonded mind,
deductive left
and inductively seductive sacred Right
like warm and wet blood-red light
of a new messianic dawn
a new bodhisattva everyday
a new cooperative overnight revolution
Could I entirely turn
my big backside to such delight?
No thanks to becoming healthier
and wealthier
and wiser.
Let us instead stay here
in depressed repressions
oppressively reductive
deductive identity
including dissonant dissent
for lack of every way ecotherapy.
How to explain such internally competitive oscillation?
Constipation
Desolation
DeGeneration
It's not like I actually live and die
in an internally competitive family
or a totally rabid
pathologically viral infested community
and monolithic State
and monoculturally supremacist religion
opposing evolutionary sociology,
and healthy ecology
and wealthy theology
and ethology of Earth's therapeutic purpose,
grace space
love bilateral sense of RealTime
cogravitating space-time,
convex concaves
ZeroZones
with both zen-hands clapping.
Every historic day
and night
invites
more maturely healed Becoming
cooperative Eastern newdawn hearts
with Western old dusky minds
bilaterally blessed and mutually blessing,
Inviting invitations toward health becoming
more than great nationalistic chains
of RightWing dominant
LoseLose
nihilistic political
fascist economic
capital-hoarder Being.
The whole world is watching
a nation in total bedlam.
An insurrection encouraged
by the sitting president
of the United States!
Let that sink in for a minute.
It's absolutely disgusting what I'm seeing.
It's shameful what is happening
in our country! It has gone much, much
too far. Blood and violence is literally
spilling out onto the streets.
This is an outrage!
The whole world is watching
American citizens storming Capitol Hill
literally wreaking havoc.
4 people dead, including a woman
was shot in the chest.
Yes, it has gone that far.
Absolutely shameful
what is happening in our country
It has gotten much, much too far
Blood has literally spilled out
onto the streets.
This is an outrage!
This is entirely your doing, President Trump.
You encouraged this chaos,
this full-throttle assault on our democracy!
And you're not stopping it?
Shame on you!
Shame on you!
Date written: 01/06/2021
I imagine when we look into our hearts…when we probe the corners of our soul…
we’ll find moments in our life…over which we have no control.
Moments that help shape the person in the mirror every day we see…
moments left entirely in the hands of destiny.
For all those skeptics out there who totally disagree….
remember…we didn’t choose to be born…we didn’t choose our family.
We didn’t choose the color of our hair, our eyes…if we’d need glasses just to see
We didn’t choose how tall we’ll be, the foods we like…or the gender we will be.
And though it’s true part of who we are is influenced by our destiny
we also get to choose the kind of person we want to be.
We are free to make these choices…the ones I’m thinking of
We can choose compassion, acceptance, generosity, kindness.
We can choose happiness and love.
Choosing to see how everything created has importance, value and worth.
Choose to love every member on our extended family…Earth.
We may not be able to control every aspect of our lives…
but in the end we can take pride….
knowing the choices we make are easier…
when love is on our side.
And for those who for one reason or another
have decided to choose hate…
the beauty of choice is…
when you decide you’re choosing love
it never is too late.
I was nervous it’s been a long time since I’ve done this.
We met at a public space, simple,
The building the epitome of modernity.
It was light and clean inside,
Uncluttered, which is why he stood out,
Like a beautiful gem in a sparkly display case.
I looked him over too obviously, my interest unhidden,
Worn on my sleeve.
I approached him slowly,
Sipping in his good looks entirely.
Hoping so much the personality inside
Reflects this outer first impression.
Once we were in near proximity.
Once we were close to each other.
I tentatively, and almost sneakily, stroked him.
So, unusual for this type of first meeting.
Feelings were growing so quickly it surprised me.
Eventually I couldn’t leave without a commitment.
I’ve never experienced
This knee jerk gut punch type of reaction.
I was fully sold and completely all in.
I don’t regret what I know to be true.
It was love at first sight Mr. 2025 Subaru.
We had nothing in common when I met Susie that first day
She had never been to Rodgers, Arkansas, where my relatives stay
We tried to find commonality, but it was not easy at all.
Roommates who gave up on each other most of that first fall.
Her parents were killed in a wreck in November.
I became a close friend, picking up her pieces in December.
At Christmas she came home with me, for she had no place to go.
It was calm in Rodger, with only the lightest of snow.
She liked the local Malt Shop so well, she decided to stay.
She worked for the owners for a year, in just the right way.
I came home and visited her when on my Christmas breaks.
She bought the entire shop, because she had what it takes.
The malt shop gave her a family, a connection to the town.
With its happy red leather seats, and chrome fixtures all around.
The 1950’s rock and roll music helped to keep her upbeat and happy.
She married a local preacher who was a friend of my pappy.
So in a way, her entire life was influenced by little old me.
And I learned a lesson that was instant and entirely free.
Never give up on a stranger, they might become your best friend.
This is what happened to me and Susie Q in the end.