Long Hammer in Poems
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Fourteen-thousand years ago, a devil played a game
In his garden with an angel whom I shall not name.
The angel won or so he thought, “Now you must pay what’s due”
I’ll take your mirr’, your favorite one, and break the thing in two.
The mirror was a magic one of evil dark and black
“The beauty of a perfect world, now what’s the fun in that?
This one’s far better, it twist, it pulls it shrinks before my eyes.
Instead of showing true reflections, this one shows me lies”
“I’ll tell you what, you won it fair, it’s yours but let’s do more;
I’ll help you break it here and now and it will be no more.”
The angel smashed it into two, his hammer in his hand.
“But why stop there?”, the devil said and smashed it into sand
The Devil grinned, “Good work my friend. See, I don’t even care”
He scooped a handful of the dust and blew it in the air.
Among the people of the earth, the grains of mirror blew.
The angel warned them “Close your eyes!” and blew his trumpet too
“What gift is this?” some people thought, Eve’s lesson was not learned.
and soon awoke with crusty eyes that itched and teared and burned.
“I see it now!” the faithless said “I am no longer blind!”
“Don’t be cross” the devil said, "Their eyes see now like mine".
Some were seized with a panicked fear, “The enemy is nigh!”,
and with cruel rocks marched on their neighbors and sentenced them to die.
Others were charmed by shiny stones “Supplies are running out!”
The simple gifts that God had given were left to lay about.
Some saw themselves with grandeur high “I’ll wear this mighty crown”,
I’ll be the King, you be the serf, and bow when I’m around.
The other ones yoked to the plow, “These types aren’t men at all”.
I’ll tolerate your presence if you're at my beck-and -call.
Of arrogance and fear and greed the mighty nations grew.
And men would starve and wars would rage for these unfaithful few.
So hear me now you righteous ones whom the devils would refuse:
In the game of life Good always wins, but bad will never lose.
Dr. P.D. Feel Good vs.' Doc the Poet (#2
Doc, you can keep wearing my CROWN.
It goes perfect with your pink hospital gown.
I am the one that damaged and demolished all your goods
Now you’re like a tr@mp roaming the hoods
Diagnose your poetry under a form of drug abuse.
If you want to be a real princess, cover up them bruise.
Step into my office, -I'm the Dr. Feel Good of abuse.
My assistant will stamp and shave you like a sheep.
With the consumption, you’re not for human use.
Doc, I will be your worst nightmare.
My ambush of words will leave you in fear.
My assistant Nathan will leave you babbling,
As he gives you a PAP SMEAR.
You cannot escape my mental destruction gear.
STUTTERING as you get donkey punched in the rear.
You will cry for mercy as I hammer in your head.
Begging my assistant to put you out of misery.
Screwing with your mind, laughing at your history.
Cooking your words like chicken cacciatore.
Forgetting to add herbs to your so-called poetry.
Now who is the one with the ALZHEIMER'S poetry disease?
Now I have you on your knees.
Making you suffer while you foam at the teeth.
Spiting my speech disorder all over your face.
Your slam has no speed to continue with this race.
You’re nothing but a rat, running thru my maze
My assistant is setting traps in your house
Starving and making you trip like an experimental mouse.
Crushing your amphetamines high thread.
I'm going to take your poetic head,
Cram it into the hospital bed.
Awe Doc, All them tears I will make you shed.
Doc, your poetry will be crying for mercy instead.
My pen will inject you a poetic black and blue full of lead.
Refusing you Penicillin, for your infection, over bled.
Adding salt to your wounds, screaming (DR. P.oetic D.read!)
All in time Doc, you will fear me until you go brain dead
Asking for an over dose wishing you were dead.
Knowing that Dr. P.D. Feel Good~is laughing in her head.
By the time, you snap to, I am still way ahead of you.
by;p.d.
Wow lucky me
I came to you so free
I’m leaving you broken
Uprooted no tree
No oxygen, no nothing
Just barely even there
That’s what happens when you give yourself to
Someone who barely even cares
How could you dare?!
I’d scream from the pain
Drown in my tears you caused
And you would just stare
With a sinister pleasure in your eyes
With hands on my thighs
I suddenly realized my torment turned you on
I called on my angels to rescue me from your demons
We created something beautiful with my eggs and your semen
Have you ever desperately given yourself to Someone heart to someone waiting to pull the plug on it?
How about ready to put a knife on it after running so many games on it?
Have you ever loved somebody who wasn’t even who they claimed?
Someone who “loved” you so much in the beginning?
But hated you seconds later for everything they just praised?
Lucky me I got to see what it’s like to experience
The hell & betrayel
Of a narcissist male
Who put me in the coffin mentally & emotionally
And couldn’t wait to hammer in the nails
Didn’t blink or flinch
At the thought of what he caused
Just as long as the public image was good, all his problems were solved.
Lucky me I got to see…
I got to see that monsters are real
And that they are not only in scary movies
Or under my bed
Or hiding in the closet
Or a figment of my imagination
Or something in ancient times
But they live in our houses and our heads
And sometimes we call them “mine”
And sometimes we call them fine
And sometimes we see the signs
But we could never prepare for what’s on the other side.
If I knew then what I know now,
I would’ve hit reverse quicker and I would flee
But when you’re caught in the dark web of lies of covert narcissism your vision is blurred and you can’t fully see
But I got to see the monster fully now
And got out finally so I guess lucky me ??
She watched, in horror
As the man hit the nail
The hammer was an enemy
The best she could tell
She observed a child
Emulate his father
With a tiny thwack
He hit another man's daughter
She heard the familiar sound
Of bang, bang, bang, as she began to run
Faster, Faster, til it blast her
Into a different place of...fun
She didn't have to create
Or invent the iron fence
Her senses were sharp and quick
To come, unbidden, to her defense
She gathered tools in her box
As everyone else her age
But she was rejected and belittled
Because she was missing a sage
No one just gathers tools in a box
And decides to use them at will
They must acquire knowledge
From an expert, it's part of the deal
.....of being a human
She was a prolific gardener
Even without the proper use of tools
Which infuriated the "right" folk
Who found it easy to be dismissive and cruel
Those who watched her
Saw her build connections
That outlasted violent storms
Of rebellious insurrections
Against the love
That enveloped her splintered soul
It took decades of invested loss
But eventually, her broken, became whole
She was granted a husband
And children to raise well
She decided to eliminate
Fear from the tools she held
She never noticed her children had gain
Where she had experienced loss
She just continued to walk it out
With her heavy, burdensome cross
One day, she saw the hammer
Lying in their box of tools
She realized her "ab" use
Of not adhering to the rules
....of building love in connection
............took the hammer in hand
.....................and tamed the tyranny of the insurrection.
Written by Trudy Schrader on 03-17-2019
Note: Today, I have found freedom on a whole new level :)
Acres and acres of barren land.
The dried tumbleweeds roll across the open field,
their roots dry and uprooted.
The quiet cotton field where slavery once beckoned,
the sounds of voices chanting,
the saloon where the taps flowed like blood through their veins,
the missuses with long skirts and huge hats—
a young miss sitting on the knee of some foolhardy lass.
The sheriff across the way,
a hand on his hip, meaning business.
The smell of warm bread lingers in the air from the bakery,
the blacksmith, hammer in hand,
striking the hot iron on the wood stove.
Memories of ancestors and fool’s gold remain in the dark.
The fine line that was drawn is still visible in the sand,
along with the bloodstain, now a faint shade of pink,
telling a story of the law against the outlaws.
The onslaught that ensued had turned the town into a war zone,
makeshift graves and wooden crosses everywhere,
a place where man no longer exists.
A battle of wills with no surrenders,
the legacy now silence,
marked in stones scribbled in red.
Years of neglect; now it feels like a ghost town,
the empty years and the signs that are left are part of the history.
In the distance, the sound of life; there’s the silhouette of a horse and buggy.
Inside, a little family—the new settlers.
The father jumps down at the line in the sand.
A boy of six, with dirty suspenders, squeals with delight
as his father, with sweat running down his face,
hammers the sign in the ground.
The hope of a new beginning is felt in the air.
You hear the faint sound of a baby crying,
the mother shushing
as she reads the simple wording:
In Marked Territory
1889
Population: 9
Women have been battered and abused
Since day one
Systemic domestic violence
We are so done
A movement has started #me too
That has opened up the doors
To shine a light and give a voice to those
Who say "I ain't gonna take it no more"
No longer will women be silent
Not passive in their behavior
Dauntless and determined
Like Jesus The Christ our Saviour
It's time for all women to step up
To be bold and speak out loud
That freedom ain't free
Our lives do matter, no longer to be enshroud
Striking a blow for freedom
Against our oppression
Righteous indignation
We are so now stressing
Now focused on what we have
And not what we don't
Letting our faith empower us
Falling back we no longer won't
Faithful, fearless and fighting just to be free
No more abuse, no more battery
Destined for greatness we've always known
That one will always reap whatever one sows
Now as daring women of impact
Confident, courageous and called
Striking a blow for freedom
Our hands fisted and balled
For with God before us victory is guaranteed
Feisty and forceful yeah that's We
And like the mighty Alpine ibex goat
We will climb and scale new heights
Up the rough side of the mountain
With only one goal in sight
To eradicate our abusers
By any means at all
Women of impact # not me too
Confident,courageous and called
Stepping out on faith
Trusting in the God we all love and know
And symbolically like Jael with hammer in hand
For freedom we'll strike a blow
Striking a blow for freedom
Decisive we now act
We are women liberators
We are women of impact
Once again he climbs the hills above the salty bay
and walks along the path through fields where she used to play.
His silver hair and tattered clothes blowing in the wind,
that whispers the name of his sweet darling Carolynn.
He sits upon a rock and looks out to the water,
and once again she comes to him, his precious daughter;
through the ghostly floating mist, he sees her smiling eyes,
those eyes where forever more, his heart and soul reside.
She takes his hand and leads him to the fields of clover;
to that place on the cliff that the old tree grows over;
and he sees the rope tied 'round the bough of that old tree,
and feels the sunshine on his face, hears the humming bees.
His heart begins to pound, like a hammer in his chest,
as she runs with glee towards the overhanging crest;
he tries to stop her, but his feet stay froze to the ground;
he screams to no avail, being deaf she hears no sound.
She laughs and waves goodbye as she grabs the braided rope
and runs with all her might and swings out above the slope
and in that moment, he hears the snapping of the bough,
and he sees her dangling there, high above the brow.
He sees her startled eyes and he hears her helpless cries,
just before she falls on to the rocks below and dies.
He falls to his knees screaming and crawls out to the edge,
and when he looks below, he knows that he too is dead.
And they find him forty years from that fateful day,
Hanging from the old oak tree, where she used to play.
In memory of a cat
In those years of innocence
When actions were not guided by much sense
I once killed a little white cat
That had trespassed; I guess, while on the trail of a rat.
I knew not from where it came
Or, if the door had been left ajar; who to blame
But I was angered at it's sight
So, I reached for a pestle, and struck with all my might.
In blind anguish it dashed about
Dazed! And of the way out, obviously in doubt
For, I had blocked the kitchen door
A club in my hand – a hammer in the hand of Thor!
Another lone strike, and it’d gone still
In my thrill, I’d cut the air with the loudest shrill
Picked my kill; displayed for all to see
I was a warrior, a great - I had wallowed in my glee.
But, Mum did not share in my thrill
As her words had, through me sent a chill
“The cat will visit in your dream
To seek revenge, if it’s anger is extreme”.
“You’re a self-acclaimed brave
Therefore, by your hands; you must dig its grave
And it’s vengeful spirit pacify
With pleas, at the place where it will now eternally lie”.
With a heart filled with fear
Minding that the night was getting very near
My tiny hands had dug the ground
And I’d rendered my plea upon the little grave mound.
Though, of reprisals from the dead
My then innocent mind later outgrew it's dread
For fun, I never did kill again
As to the sanctity of all life, I got bound by a chain.
May 5, 2018
So I wrote this rhyme just for me,
to ignite self belief,
and get me out of this sea,
I'm a swim the sea 'til I reach the sand,
wet the desert 'til the plants grow grand,
'til the storm clears up,
and the grass gleams up,
I'm a march toward a life I succeed.
It's the indecision that's stopped me and a lack of belief
sabotage my existence got me gritting my teeth
A new leaf it's time to reach deep down beneath me
time to pay my parents back for all they did
show 'em I've grown and I aint stupid
I'm trying to self inspire and spark some life into these wires
'cus though my tries fail know my tries aint in short supply
so however traumatised I'm a stay wise
I'm under a landslide but I'm digging a tunnel
and I'll never allow the day that you see my funeral
I'll funnel out the self doubt from now on
I'm a man up and I'm a be strong
They'll be no more excuses allowing the useless
I'm a treat this depression ruthless
and remove its presence with no hesitant movements
I won't lose or run in circles
I won't hide in shells like turtles
I'm a square up and give it hell
I won't let this failure finish my tale
I'm a put depression in a coffin and hammer in the nail
I won't drop or stop
I'm obsessed with reaching the top
because the lowest depth didn't cause death
and I'm still taking in breaths
so you can scoff at me oftenly
but I swear to God nothing aint stopping me!
Is she the one? I've been asking myself this same question for awhile,
And as I express my confession, I can't help but smile....
Is she the one? If not, then why is she the first thing on my mind when I wake?
Or why do i think our love is so well defined, that she must be a mistake?!
Is she the one? If not, then why when she's around my skin's warm like sunshine?
Or why does her delicate hand fit so perfectly in mine?
Is she the one? If not, then why does my heart hammer in my chest like this?
Why do I ache when we're apart because I can't taste her kiss?
Is she the one? If not, why do I eagerly, and attentively listen when she speaks to me?
Or why do I make sure my poetry is noticeably written so passionately?
Is she the one? If not, then why do I think of her so much, I see her in my minds eye?
Or why do I literally crave her touch, and will fight for her love like a samurai?!
Is she the one? If not then why do I feel possessed like I'm under her spell?
Or why do I feel a longing in my chest when I inhale her intoxicating smell?
Is she the one? I think from the start my heart already knew!
Because without a doubt, inside and out, you're a canvas of art, that's why I chose you!!
*Wrote strictly for Tavarus M. Moreland's contest "Is she the one"......