Long Evacuate Poems
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#Grateful
Some ghosts in me evacuate,
long buried hope,
some shattered smile on a bare surface,
long dessertted, untainted human trait
Unconditional love and humanity
She said she prayed for me
Prayed that I do good in life
Prayed for my safety and success
Prayed I be better and well
Her knee to the ground
Her palm to palm
Her heart projection
Her compassion
And most her love.
Broke in me, chains of fear
Shackles of faith
Dungeons of freedom
Felt safe in her presence
Assured in her intentions
Written with ink in her fate
My heart is sealed
Never felt safe and
homely, away from home
and far from my mother
And there she is loving me
Unconditionally assuring me
In this with her wholesome
Grateful for the prayer
My mother Prayed
For me to have her in my life
Grateful for being there
In every up and downs
In every joy and celebrations
In every laughter and tears
Grateful for being loved
The correct way
Best way
Unconditionally so
Grateful for the blessing you are in my life
I'm Grateful
#Poetic_Ink
Severe Weather Predictions...
Professedly Plagues Psyche
I do not watch, while
feigning to sip ale,
nor listen to Wail
ling Jennings poor
imitation by prophetic
local aborigines scent
ting ancestor trail,
while plucking their
Sing song ukulele
national anthem (tip towing
thru the dale
lie la of hybrid tulips)
hearty and hale
Climatological headlines,
more like a puffed up
magical dragon exhale
ling nothing boot hot air,
comprising a renown folk song,
and/or futuristic tall tale
that usually pre
dominate every airwave scale
ling the gamut of
every frequency 24/7, rail
ling dire warnings,
and no need prevails,
particularly for those
refusing to evacuate,
and become sitting targets
like quail caught
in the cross hair
for me to know
onset of biblical pro
portioned sized debacles
(since joblessness thy status,
cuz social security disability received),
but more pertinently
dire forecasts rarely manifest
into monster mashing maelstroms
case in point
being this predicted
"three sisters of all hurricanes"
Florence, Light
Ning, and Gale,
found this storm chaser
disappointed, cuz monstrous
banshee's utter deplorable show
ranked as utter dud at least
(in my book), they did fail
to wreak havoc
falling far short
to flatten every tree,
which limb mit
to flash flooding
minor inconvenience
forced every to sail
guy did by those freed from jail.
Imagine this - you take a cruise.
You’re out at sea, with gorgeous views,
When suddenly all systems fail
And you are stuck – no way to bail.
A fire started this distress
But soon, the ship was quite a mess –
No air-conditioning or light,
The darkness frightening at night.
For thousands stranded on the ship,
This turned into a nightmare trip.
The lines for food made moods turn sour
But, far worse, was with no power,
Toilets quickly ceased to flush;
Sewage seeped to rooms once plush.
Plastic bags did substitute,
So human waste would not pollute.
Optimism faded quick –
Passengers were getting sick.
Still, they had to sit and wait;
No one could evacuate.
Finally, the ship was towed.
More than refunds, folks are owed;
Which explains – you’ll understand –
Why my vacations stay on land!
In the avalanche, I lost track of my guiding light.
I fled my fireside. I had to evacuate my homestead.
Driven far astray by frenetic frozen fright,
I was just a cowardly racing rescuing airhead.
The wounded wooden face of my brother
lugged away by paramedics in a wheelchair.
My tomb of sleep was my 3 am druthers.
But I called 911, puzzling at my sibling’s stare.
Living and dying from underworld to mountaintop,
the EMTs raised him off the floor like a bag of potatoes.
Everything was breathing pollen and allergen nonstop.
All my raw instincts lacked right or wrong thought flows.
It’s true; I lost poetry. I abandoned my paintings, my pottery,
as though the subverting season of AI sophistry reigned supreme,
as though all creativity was randomized in a human lottery,
as though all consciousness is reduced to a particle beam.
Vacant, these weary eyes roll up in my head.
Vacant, how much long-term despondency to endure?
My brother lives and dies each day in his bed,
defenseless, like a never healing wound with no cure.
My days are distractions, a mad confusing deflection.
I vacated my poetic home, my fireside muse.
I raft the unfamiliar caregiver currents without reflection.
I can’t live forever homeless, maintaining the caregiver ruse.
Sleep now, my brother, knowing life offers you another aim.
Tap resilience from your broken body. This will clear your mind.
My pallet for tending, nourishing, and wiping deserves no acclaim.
Nobody asks for these duties. No one can ever put them behind.
The river smells like damp cotton this morning,
the weather has been so complimentary to our exertions
frost invades the nights nicely and soft sunshine comforts our faces in daytime,
we have been averaging 26 miles per day for more than a week
which gives us fat optimism that we'll reach the he Mandan villages before November,
our sense of serenity and ease is abruptly shaken by a suspicious sight,
from the boats we notice , not far inland
a settlement abandoned to arid earth and the whispers of sullen fate,
with a detachment of 12 men
this broken place in paradise is searched
with the circumspection of armed archaeologists,
from wood and rock totems
we have surmised that this village belonged to the Arikaras,
evidently, they systematically left here, or were decimated by some terrible force,
a gutteral roar rips into my ears
as I see the most monstrous beast of my life,
it is the great grizzly bear, wicked in temper and simply petrifying in stature,
about 40 yards away Sheilds stumbles out of an Arikara sod lodge
as the grizzly emerges from it's liar, standing upright like a tower of terror
fangs in the air and claws ready to thrash
Sheilds buries a slug right into it's chest from 10 feet away
sounding like a large stone plunging deep into water
white panic stretches his face while the beast stammers for a moment,
there is no time for him to reload
and he starts running to the canoe faster than a fuse
several of us take aim and unleash a crossfire of lead
pegging the bear every which way halting it's chase
and with the speed of a two horse wagon it's running to the brush,
we forgo the hunt and evacuate to the canoes,
enough has been seen here,
J.A.B.
Murder on your mind
Suicide in your thoughts
Heart all torn, body all worn
Heavens knows you want to go
But Jesus wont let you go
Restless nights, constant fights
Your soul just doesn't feel right
No longer does it have the will to pretend or fight
It feels like you have lost all sight
Discouraged and burden to afraid
To stand up and fight
Life is no longer a delight
You cannot see the light
You rather choose to hide and evacuate
But wait Jesus state's if you chose this gate it maybe too late
For you to escape this awful fate so wait
Maybe you should stop, think and debate
After all you don't want to be carried through
That eternal gate where you can't breathe or escape
Maybe you should re-evaluate your current state
Learn to be strong, hope and wait not take your life
Regret or be sorry that you didn't choose to stop and debate
I think you should re-evaluate
After all what have you to loose
Its only right you live and choose.
The orders were clear and for unknown reasons I was in charge given a loaded pistol and commanded to send everyone to a central area 5 kilometers away the enemy with overwhelming strength was already on the outskirts of our city pillaging plundering and taking prisoners within my designated area schools homes and businesses were were open and occupied schools were easy to evacuate students quickly complied homes were more challenging as some refused to leave orders were to let them stay if resisting as time was not forgiving force only to be used as defense if physical safety was compromised animals were allowed those unable to evacuate were to be left behind services were promised to be available at the gathering location transport vehicles were random and uncomfortable alerts were communicated through various media my dream ended when I woke up I noticed towards the end of my dream I was in stocking feet and regretted not putting my boots on I wanted it to go away to be like before I didn't like being mean to people
Not my jamm
You may have become an unstoppable force
in the lands you have conquered who have lost their resource,
no longer fighting at this time they evacuate shores,
so all of the power now ultimately yours,
the world has no other as mighty or proven,
and should any bring the fight you shall quickly remove them,
believing your destiny an unmovable movement,
A thousand year reich that solely is a delusion
which none so far stopped and none can prevent,
are at the mercy of an invincible depth, you will be victorious the trend of this sets, you’ve only beaten a few of which some you quickly forgets,
they got away knowing you at your best, and they will be back and fight you to the death,
but you are not threatened and that is the threat,
you made them run once before if they come back they’ll be dead,
the desirable dreaming of which you are believing,
the strength you amassed while others were weakened,
and now overwater you look toward England,
a broken down island sat there badly beaten
not an opponent to cause any concern knowing that next it is England’s turn,
an Air Force and navy to take down the King,
easy to do with all those you can bring,
but the Air above England isn’t there for your lungs,
your invasion a failure before it has begun, because you thought a victory was certainly won,
but when Britain was bitten Old Britain didn’t run,
it counters undoubtedly the attacks have you stunned,
the Battle is lost and your power undone,
Britain doesn’t welcome those to it’s land, you will not get there and you will never command,
what was to happen was not part of the plan,
thought no one could beat you but Great Britain can!!
This day I went in public
Through a parking lot,
Where I passed an angry man
His temper had been hot.
Though this had alarmed me
I continued on my way,
Thinking of the nasty words
The bad man had to say.
Suddenly felt weary
Miserable inside,
So I focused on my breathing
Fastened up my stride.
When I turned a corner
From the filth and vile,
A gentleman appeared and
Past me with a smile!
Oh how they're special people
The angels in disguise,
Who lift my very spirit
They come with much surprise.
As fast as they appear
They evacuate,
Though not before they do their thing
Leaving you feel great.
Captivating strangers
With their cheerful charm
Consider them a blessing
For never doing harm.
This day I was reminded
Good people are not gone,
As random acts of kindness
Will always be passed on.
Give it a title!
They say first love is always perfect
Even when you fall flat in the middle of the story
The last is always the dream we all fight to attain
I won't be your dream love
Neither will I be your love story
(I hate love titles, headings, sub-association and more)
I will melt your angry oaths with the rain
Although in your voyage, got struck by thunder,
Though they pollute your heart and trust
I will sanctify your love, once again with affection
If you're with me always and forever
Our first and last love story will be perfect.
The red rose bleeds in the pouring rain
And the white rose dies in the mounting storm
I will take away the white rose from you
Then destroy and trample the red
Though beautiful, they will never stand the test of time
I will evacuate and jettison your flowers
And give you a star; a shinning star.
For where does a flower bloom forever?
As long as you still breathe
You will always see my star in the sky -
An attestation that my love for you is forever!
In reminisce, all your yesterday's fantasy before you
But I'm the least precious treasure of them all
Because you had fancier rubbies than me
You might even want to think
"How the gold would rust in your life time,
Now what hope is there for the iron?
It's true trees are subject to the axe
But when the big iroko succumbs
To the first lash of a miserable merciless Cutlass
What omen is it leaving behind for the cassava tree?"
You wonder and ponder while lost in thought
But I hope these words of mine search and find you:
My love will remain cherubim and will grow grey for you
And wisdom will guide us both home
Because wisdom only grows old, it never dies!
My love for you is spirit and life.
VickWizzy
Vick Manuel Poetry {VMP}
Copyright © 2013.