Long Every man for himself Poems
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The ultimate test of the times:
United in togetherness
We stand tall with heads held high
Shoulders back
Chests out
Lined up straighter than arrows
With the forward mindset
Locked and loaded on
Our target for success!
Deal with this they said:
"Right is wrong and wrong is right
Up is down, in is out
What we once smiled at
Is now frowned upon."
Do I have your attention?
We have been educated
With the unbridled knowledge
Of our ancestors and the experience
Of our predecessors from the
Injustice they've suffered
But yet have soldiered on
Valorous in spirit.
Even though "Willie" still lives to this day.
Giving up or out
Isn't in our vocabulary
One hand reaches out to the next
And so forth and so on
We came here together
We fight here today
We leave when tomorrow comes
When there's no one left to stay
When rapturous spirits
Ascend into the Heavens
Or the "syndrome" never again sees
The light of day.
Do I still have your attention?
The reward is not a precious metal
But the feeling in your soul
As peace settles
And takes residence in your life.
Smiles and clear consciences
Aid in the balancing of educating
Youthful minds as they set forth
On their journey through life.
So when it's their turn to
Be called upon to continue on
They too will be
United in togetherness
Standing tall with heads held high
Shoulders back
Chests out
Lined up straighter than arrows
With the forward mindset
Locked and loaded on
Their target for success.
"What's forward is now backwards
It's every man for himself."
Do I still have your attention?
With one hand reaching out to the next
And so forth and so on
We have educated them
With the unbridled knowledge
Of their ancestors and the experience
Of their predecessors from the
Injustice they've suffered
But have soldiered on
Valorous in spirit.
Because in today's world
Where a society has embraced the negative
Allowed the unjustified killing of innocents
During "routine" traffic stops
Forever traumatizing families and
Blatantly decriminalizing witnessed guilt
Where known killers still walk the streets
And will never serve a day of time
A truthful insight is the only way
To keep our children ours.
We shouldn't have to
Read between the lines for anything
But now that you have
Isn't it worth your attention?
What I thought would be a moment of weakness turned into a moment of bravery
When I was 15, my suicide note turned into a poem that saved me
All I could do was use a pen to express the pain in my heart
They are proof that I survived so I'm no longer ashamed of my scars
My favourite time to write is when I have a heart full of pain and ideas in my head
Looking back, anytime I fought back against depression it was me who bled
7 years free from Self-harm, I used to wear long sleeves on summer days
Never been to prison, but due to depression I know what its like to be caged
Every man for himself is the only thing that my sperm donor taught me
He made me realise my own strengths by not being there to support me
I used to talk to myself, but when around others, I was never comfortable speaking
I would bury my emotions and hide my feelings because I wasn't good at grieving
I've faced so many obstacles that my life feels like a survival course
I've spent nights alone fighting suicidal thoughts
Followed by days of battling monsters and demons
Depression told me we were on the same page, I changed the script and stopped reading
I put it all on the page because people will always try to reveal and expose your insecurities
I've got nothing to hide, I put it out for the whole world to see
I've made mistakes, but this is about my growth and maturity
I always try and remain warm hearted even though it's a cold world for me
Some scars are still bleeding but I'm finally healing within
November 14th 2019 I was sexually assaulted on a night out and I'm slowly starting to have sexual feelings again
I was broken when my ex girl told me I should just get over it, I understand she was frustrated that I wasn't ready to be intimate or perform
But I found it easy to let her go, that was one loss I don't have to mourn
I won't apologise for taking my time to heal and working at my own pace
I have to live with the pain in my heart, and I'm just trying to make this home safe
All I can do is write a poem to express the pain in my heart
I used to be embarrassed, but I'm no longer ashamed of my scars
I remember being taught in High School that we
all have human rights, some of which are civil rights
protected by The U. S. Constitution as well as many rights
endowed by God. We were also taught that 'my rights end
where the next person's rights begin. Mixed in and permeating
the entire subject matter of human relations was what was known
as the Golden Rule. This Golden Rule came directly from the mouth of
Christ himself. Namely, do unto others as you would have them do to you.*
Human rights as implemented by The United Nations extend beyond
national borders and are subject to be enforced by international law.
Some nations who publicly back 'human rights' are the worst violators
within their own borders and have no intention of enforcing human rights if such rights conflict with their own national or international agenda.
Notwithstanding, if there were no governmental principles and policies, this world would be an ever-flowing holocaust, a 'hell on earth' with every man for himself.
120421PS *Matthew 7:12
I have stories in my heart I want to tell
Some of people in paradise and others in hell
I know all the characters in my stories well
Some perish, while some are saved by the bell
The characters are just you and me in print
Described perfectly by thousands of words on ink
They maybe imagined, made up names and identities
But they are just like us, our situations and realities
Like God running the world and carrying out his plans
I forge words and create stories with twists and turns
Where paradise gets lost and hell breaks loose
Where no one can escape the blues
I am an artist; words are my paint as I sit and sketch
The reflection of humanity’s maddening stench
Brightly captured line after line on A4 paper canvas
Like a conductor I swing my fingers and make the alphabet dance
Heartbreaks all over and death in the end
In imagination as in reality, its hard to find a friend
Every man for himself and every woman abused
Even if you are Oprah or the queen, you still get used
Words are fun to merge, into sentences to tell tales
Compressing into pages, explaining why happiness fails
Dreams shattered in a tunnel, like the princess of Wales
People spreading viruses in beds and electronic mails
Like a chef I mix words as if they are ingredients
Cooking up manuscripts that have no recipients
I compose the truth in exaggerated prose
Enough to steal Shakespeare's glory, from right under his nose
My characters may not be close to fame just yet
But they have more grit, than Romeo and Juliet
More complex than Shakespeare's Macbeth
Best laid plans, matters of life and death
An unedited anthology of human tragedies
An underground bible of life’s vanities
With chapters and passages for my eyes only
Hopefully to one day inspire and comfort the lonely
When that day comes maybe I will be famous
But for now, I am unpublished anonymous
Hell hath no replete replica like an Ohiohell
memom memoboys dispelled with lovelessloss lorn laments
measured in misgiven gravid neutral grautities of cool compromised cruel
capsid cascades of dreary demented drowsy dump deep demented deny desires
with wilfull wallowing in unsupposed not to be here
herein two boys born to a numbnuts army husbodad and a
WTF what is happening in/outside this family 50's acircle
what comes next in the uneducated female nonintuition of a
deaddad accidential with a pity piss payoff and a whatdoIdo **** attitude
totally in reverse of an arkansas hope of upheaveal. GDMFSOB, who could I/we haVE
BeeN in the assinine scheme of things with someone in an intersomewhateducated semistate of minimal MFconsciousness. We play the hand we are dealt in the vast unscheme of unness.
WTF, and where/why does God take part and lessen a small boy's dream of donated dadhood by taking it away and leave him left to faulterflounder in a boyhood abyss. Dead, devoid, denied to the manmale circumstance of what the future folds to be delivered to doting descendents, like my three sons. with whom I struggled to
shower, impart, enable, enbibe, instill, foster, enliven, and all that I did not experience yet faux provide with an inner soulsense to a measured milestone of mannered man manufactured love and tendered texture of all mine to give with that that is mustered macro from a micro counteanace of humocapped coperal deliverance. All's fair they say unless u have been there and then it's every man for himself---and then, I dare u to get in my way---------no holds barred, look out for I am a survivor, all the way.
Hi, my name is Dave, and according to my grandparents, I wasn't supposed to live to be raised. Go figure.
I can’t really see the end of it all
They preach it to me everyday
In silent filled churches, every man for himself in prayer
I keep lighting candles for him
Maybe Frankie made it out of purgatory by now
Death has always been a obscurity
A denial, a joke to me
Kind of like paletas on long ago summer days
Sticky sweet sin melting too fast under the blazing unmerciful heat
drizzling youth onto the street
I can’t believe I’m this old
I often feel like I’m 30 in an 18 year olds body
So wise for my age that depression sets in day by day and hope crams hour by
hour
Like a prescription for death my live ceaselessly demands
I hope you know I fill it everyday at Walgreen’s on the corner by my house
And when I lay awake at night and it’s 3:45 and I can’t seem to get romance out
of my head
Romance hates me, kind of like a conspiracy against my prescription
If I can love then death is a joke
If I loved and he died would it be a joke then?
Not really nobody laughed except me
When his coffin uttered a dry click and all I could hack out was a laugh that
translated into sobs
Is that it? That can’t be it,
But it was and I still remember sometimes his eyes that crinkled when he smiled
Life shouldn’t be this sad
Maybe I missed out on Oprah’s favorite’s episode
When that Dutch oven was given away to the first row
But I keep lighting that candle
It doesn’t really matter because if there is an end the candle might still burn but I
won’t be here to see it
Instead I’ll be waiting at that corner of the street with sugar water coursing
through my veins
It feels like I got drafted to a war.
A war I didn't even know started.
Maybe I was oblivious.
Maybe there's an excuse,
Then again maybe not.
But I know I feel tense.
I feel beyond tense.
Nowhere is home now.
Nowhere is safe.
No one is safe to be with.
I can't depend on anyone to help me,
It's every man for himself out here
And I'm stuck here.
When I'm someone who thinks love is a currency that functions in reverse.
I am someone who thinks the more love I give out, the more I will receive.
And I am at war now.
There's always shouting,
There's always pain,
There's always something wrong,
There's always something I did wrong.
My body is breaking.
There are holes in my stomach and I cannot sleep.
Laying down makes me sick,
And so does standing up for myself.
I don't know what to do anymore.
I don't know how to explain how I feel,
How I function,
How I think.
I can't even explain it to me.
Social experiences with loved ones make me feel like I've got a nosebleed in a shark tank.
Strangers make me brace for impact.
I don't know how to respond to compliments or kindness from others.
I don't know how to tell someone "it's not okay" when they apologize.
I'm tired.
I'm sick of this.
I want to be left alone now.
I want to recover.
I want peace of mind.
I want to say "go away" and mean it.
I want to say "It's not okay, and I don't forgive you."
I really just want to feel better.
I want the war to end.
Let me bring it to your attention and surprise
Of the foolish things purported to be wise
Lofty language and personalities are their guise
A hope seller's haven of clout and enterprise
Claiming sureness of the fate of a rolling dice
And their boldness of divine seers can really entice
God says to give and you shall receive a far healthier stake
While the world claims life to be a race to take, take, take
Wasn't Christ exalted for giving His Life for our sake
And for the enticement of knowledge Eve heeded the snake
Even for the lust for God's Throne, the devil's fate is the sulphur lake
And still knowing this, many leave ill teachings in their wake
"Every man for himself" against 'where two or three are gathered"
Killing the communion in which victory is authored
The estate is scattered though the sons are by one father fathered
And we look on the plight and are unbothered
Until the day one rises to find it at his door tethered
And your cry finds compassion long dried and weathered
The thought that sophistication will edge out the simple
Moral stays cheapened and bodies becoming desecrated temples
Because notoriety covers their sin if it is ample
To what end if history doesn't teach in its notable ensemble
Men wishing to turn back the hands of time, so weak, spent and humble
Seeing how wasteful they were with their wit most nimble
K. Muitherero.
Since our most recent U.S. Presidential non-selection,
for one thing a Trumpian could not become
is therapeutically presidential,
I have become worried about our democratic suffrage.
Perhaps only mothers, or maybe also fathers,
of kids with special vulnerability needs
should be allowed to vote,
or perhaps each and all allowed to vote,
but only special needs parents to vote twice.
With each vote cast,
whether one or two,
this vote is cast for healthy futures
wealthiest nutrients imaginable
for future generations with increasingly special climate needs.
It may take a special mom,
a compassionately vulnerable dad,
to truly see each child has special needs
to regenerate toward full strength wealth of health
accessible to those born harmed
by an increasingly rabid ecopolitics
of every man for himself
(and also women and children, if and as time allows)
in a Might Makes Triage Right evolving world
of actively distrusting revolutions
between aristocrats who harvest power
and special needs kids
who, by comparison, harvest not,
and never ever will.
Unless, or course,
we might conquer democratic potential
and original intent
by electing candidates whose primary experience
of electoral special needs value
are WinWin outcomes as moms,
and maybe even dads,
of kids with climate healthing special needs
well met
suffrage through discontent.
it was one of the darkest moments in His anointed life
when the Roman soldiers came to arrest Our Lord Jesus the Christ
divinity was unraveling the prophetic scripture to be fulfilled
Jesus betrayed and then deserted the night went silent and still
Jesus was One who was regarded as a gatherer of men
but at the midnight hour His disciples abandoned Him in the end
the journey towards brotherhood is not just about the good days
it's about a willingness to have each others back when life is not going your way
spiritual brotherhood was being tested the enemy now on patrol
the men of God had fallen asleep and the devil had taken control
a war is being waged today against the Living Body of Christ
yet our Christian brothers are asleep on the job unawake to deal with the devil's strife
we need to open our eyes we need to be alert and aware
on the journey towards brotherhood exercising cohesiveness, compassion and care
but the one time that Jeus needed to have His men around
they abandoned Him and forsaken Him and then went underground
every man for himself they left Jesus all alone
and as a result He was crucified and ascended to the heavenly throne
brothers don't abandon each other there's strength in togetherness and unity
have each others backs and then tell Satan to get behind thee