Long Get it Poems
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Aspect ratio
The logs had jammed the creek
and a snow storm ws
coming through.
When the weather had turned cold a troubled
people look for a remedy to there aliment.
One person said that it seemed the waters had froze
faster then they had ever did before.
They used there recording device to document
the event. The elapse time seemed extra ordinary
: all stood in disbelief and wonder.
Damn-it, seems a man can't do anything right
in the sees of man or God. His wife smiled
and said, like anything else wee'll get through it!
Who's this , noicing a tall guy walking toward him,
"hey mister what's your business we're kinda busy her":
I can see that, you must be Mister Dane Smire, I'm Kent of the daily planet
a colunist. Yeah whata you want? said another guy , we wanna tell your story
"here's the scoop Kent," there 700 logs jamming the
Who-Gamey creek and the big freeze is on"
Yeah it look like the big freeze is on but it's still warm out here> Yeah your right Kent whats going on.
I don't know but I beatcha Superman will know!
The we heard , hah! an evil laugh and then a a strangley dressed villious guy came walking out saying. Tell Superman that there's a specail suprise in the creek
and he wanted him to get it for him. Oh know it's the Big Freeze, the evil villan from a strange worldbeyond our Galaxy!
Let me give you the game
Let me tell you this story
Let me acknowledge the one
Who gets all ThE glory(glory)
Let me tell you the truth
Lets reach out to the youth(youth)
Lets make a difference
Instead of an excuse
Listening to the same song
How can you correct the wrongs
When you try to do right
Let me tell you the truth
Its time to protect the youth
Everyday someones dying
Another family left crying
To many lives cut short too quick
The thought of it makes me sick
So as a team a community what do We do
When you are so confused
As to why
So many senseless murders arise
Listening to the same song
How can you correct the wrongs
When you try to do right
Let me tell you the truth
Its time to protect the youth
We got to do better
Get it together
We got to do better
Get it together
Listening to the same song
How can you correct the wrongs
When you try to do right
Let me tell you the truth
Its time to protect the youth
Written by:Concetta Hardnett
1/19/2019
I see you sitting in that chair
Your place of retirement
Your slave ship
I see the despair in your eyes
Once ruled with an iron fist
Now unable to care for yourself
You are a man
You are my father
But when I look upon you
I see a broken boy
Created by parents that weren't quite right
I see your demons emerge from time to time
I watched you fight them all my life
I saw what they would allow and wouldn't allow you to do
You are not past hope
You are not broken fully
GET UP!
You went to that place everyday to make a life for us
Now worry about you
Take Care of you
All your things won't fix what's broken
They are things
All those books you've read
Go to those places
This is your time
Your work is done
Start living and Stop dying
Do you realize the hypocrisy
Of the man who preached mental toughness
Now to weak to even put down the food
To big to leave the house
It is hard to watch the man that calloused me to damage
From the outside world
We are not impervious
You are that broken boy
I thank you for not breaking me the way they broke you
All you've ever wanted is their approval
You will not get it
Thank you for letting me know things I have done made you proud
That is what you wanted from them
I tell you now, I am proud to be part of you
I am proud you are part of me
I am proud at who you made me
I am not a broken boy
Because the broken boy made sure the cycle did not repeat itself
Mother’s Day feels like a joke with no punchline, like the kind of card you don’t buy because you’d have to lie in cursive. I stare at the shelves lined with pastel lies, the soft-scripted thank yous, and the you’ve always been there's. I want to scream at the cardboard. Always been there? Where? In the silence? In the slammed doors? I don’t remember the warm memories I’m supposed to have. I remember the pressure, the pretending, the clench in my jaw when I’d try to get it right. I remember not being enough no matter how much I performed love. It’s not that I don’t love you, it’s that I don’t know how to say it in your language. Yours is all obligation and correction. Mine is quieter, stubborn, broken in places, but still trying. So Mother’s Day comes around and I write this instead of buying a card. Because no Hallmark line fits into the mess I carry. That’s okay, honesty is the only gift I can give.
I am not a minority poet,
though I have known them on occasion.
Those who write a poem for school
or some brief love encounter
then never to pick up a pen again.
I am a majority forever poet
who writes or tries to write every day
at every chance or opportunity of inspiration.
Hoping to stir the mind and fibrillate the heart
in desire of expressing and revealing the soul.
Sometimes held hostage by some unknown, inner blockage
that releases when least expected but so welcomed.
I am my own poet
writing and rewriting until I get it right.
Trying to reveal the world
as it lives in pain and glory,
attempting to relay life’s wonderfully sad story.
I am the landscaper of emotions
seeking solace and laughter.
searching for that happily ever after.
When on earth will you call them?
After, they are dead?
Don't you get it?
God made ears for hearing, not texts to be read.
No wonder people kill each other.
They are love-empty inside.
Keystrokes are not the same
As hearing the voice of another.
We won't even talk to a customer rep?
Oh, no..we choose Apps over humanity?
No small wonder, we are human wrecks!
Just pasty, glaring faces stuck to screens.
Or thinking that FaceTime is our way out.
You can't hear their souls', cry and shout.
We, breathing corpses, cold and so mean.
The world's biggest scam, on holy devices,
the world's dream!
And how happy we are to have our children
be on the same devices.
Where they, too can share their hearts in ice-
cold slices!
5/11/2021
~1~
People never seem to listen to what i have to say
Just brush it off their shoulder interrupting all the way
In a disagreement everyone is guilty of pride
You say what you have to say then run away and hide
Instead of always interjecting who did what to who
Maybe take a moment and hear my side too
You shut me down quickly, constantly your abrupt
I heard what you had to say, now my ulcers acting up
Not wanting you to agree wish you'd take things in stride
Just listen to my story about the feelings i have inside
Acknowledge that you've heard me I'm not looking for advice
Set aside preconceived notions on what you think is right
If i never get to finish telling you how i feel
Those emotions boil over and make me feel quite ill
Interjecting comments, questioning everything
Stating someone else's version - your driving me insane
Sometimes you need to hear me & let me get it off my chest
You assume you know for certain your perception is the best
Just let me get through telling you & let it all unwind
I never get to finish it happens every time
Judgments passed too early your minds already set
You mumble & you grumble it's frustrating I would bet
Listening to ones feelings is not agreeing I would say
When I finish my story we will both have a better day
Unbalancing my thinking your comments are so bold
Now look at the drama not listening caused to unfold
My mind is split in fifty ways, not the same with any friend.
Different with each.
Each relationship unique.
Not dissipated until the end.
A forever friend.
Because that is how I “do” friends.
Unless you double-cross me more than five times.
The end of you.
The end of me.
But wait, we are souls, so this cannot be.
We have other chances, other lifetimes possibly to get it right.
A soul is forever and ever more.
So termination is out the door.
My mind smiles, as she carefully plans no end to our relationship at all.
Different in every way, with every friend.
Sometimes, saved until the next incarnation,
Because we did not get it right this time.
So much alike on the inside, you would think we were twins,
Comparing us from the outside you would never be able to notice this,
We look completely different, we don't act the same,
We don't have the same hobbies, or play the same games,
Its certainly not boring, we learn off each other,
With a nod we get it, and understand one another,
When one wants to do his thing the other is engaged,
Because it's not about seeing just one way,
Loving the other without hesitation,
Being open in heart, they have the same destination,
What socially looks as if it doesn't fit,
Undermines the logic of the same size stiff,
The ones who seem to fear the change,
Who only want to see things their way.
She’s a crone, I think, judging her dour disposition and prissy ways.
Discover by accident she is twelve years my junior!
Her face is pasty withered; worn, super freckled
Her neck not unlike the wrinkles of an elephant’s legs
How old is she? I query again, for I disbelieve
Anyone could look this hideous at this particular age.
I looked fantastic at that age; I can tell you.
Super fantastic, maybe even quad-super-fantastic.
I cannot take my eyes off her neck; does she not have a scarf?
If my neck looked half that bad, I would wear a thick black dog collar.
Her laugh is irritatingly baby-like, a silly chime-like birdsong laugh.
Surly she could have learned a better laugh by this age.
What’s going on? My husband asks, watching me watch her.
She is only fifty-five I tell him. So?
He does not get it, being a man.
So look at her. He wisely wanders away.
That night I walked by the mirror still scoffing.
The mirror called me back.
I looked at my neck and reached for a dog collar.
That was not enough, so I put on my executioner’s hood also.