Long Impregnated Poems
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Mommy is a neighborhood feline stray.
She has two 5 week old kittens. I feed them all everyday.
Mommy had more to her litter, but a roaming male stray
slaughtered most of them, but these two miraculously escaped.
Believing that she had lost all of her offspring,
Mommy immediately went into heat again
and was impregnated by her roaming male companion
who moments earlier had killed most of her children.
Her maternal instinct is now geared towards her unborn offspring.
As for her two surviving kittens? She has abandoned them.
These poor kittens will not survive and most likely die suffering,
but not on my watch. I'm rescuing them.
It is we who decided to domesticate them.
We made them and so in essence, they are our children
and we should all share our responsibility
for making the lives of our children just a little more easy.
*
Soon there will be two more additions to my foster family.
This added responsibility I do not need,
but I do so out of love unconditionally.
*
I was in a garden of space
and God energized me
He granted my first Grace
He planted me
An energized seed apart of His essence
a seed like Him energy
He sown me, thrown me to the grounds
God will finish what He started
Just wait and see
In His space in His sea of light
~
In a room, in the womb
My Father God placed a seed
Into the Earth and ground energy flourished
Collectively from space solidified being
My Father's spiritual physical side through me now
A seed into the ground
Earthen mother my Father's planted me
Into my mother in her garden, in her grounds
In her womb, God will finish what He started
~
Just wait and see
First imaged energy
Now impregnated fleshly a seed a new vessel
Made up of body, mind and soul
I'm going to grow into a baby and more
God will finish what he started
just wait and see
In His space and His sea of light--I'll be
1/14/23
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr © 2023
When you have lost everything, and you are left stood upon flattened barren ground
Where the drones around you create a deep hum but you no longer hear their sound
A small body alone covered in dust; and in this child’s eyes nothing but a vacant stare
A family and friends wiped out in a matter of milliseconds, no one left for him to care
Tears rolling from his un-blinking eyes creating their own cervices on his clay like face
Such a bitter lesson on this small boy of a war he never asked for or wanted to create
Taken in the arms of the rescuers, and whisked away to a foreign land not understood
Destined to grow into a great leader of peace, his destiny as impregnated in his blood
Who took in that unsacred moment of time to see and feel the reality of a wasted war
Brought about peace to all nations, no weapons of war ever to be raised again he saw
you are angry
at yourself.
you feel
impregnated- swollen with
primordial rage blistering,
splintering your rib cage.
pretty blush pink lips firm and tense
with disgust.
warm chasing, begging, pleading
-for love—
what has become?
your children stare back through
ashen grey frosted pane—
Freeze frame blue screen eyes.
They are
freezing.
your connection is freezing—
and you sob
for a man who ices his conflicted interior
Intentionally
and spits on your offerings, dismissively
shoves his anger like fingers down your throat as you vomit pleading nothings.
you are a stronger, now- to yourself.
The internal dialogue- print press tapping,
Always muttering
“but they didn’t love me this much.”
“But it could have been worse.”
“But if only I-“
its okay.
I
love
you
this much and
I
See
Your
Worth
Some parents set a bad example
when don't make their children tremble:
no fear of an omniptent God,
no faith to sustain them in hard times;
they themselves havel lied,
and their seed have no love that fortifies.
Tomorrow these boys and girls
will have no vision, no future with an indelible event:
young ladies impregnated by irresponsible boys,
who smoke and drink holding no steady job,
and worst of all, they will steal and rob
to support their habits...would kids want daddies like that?
What's happened to the united, caring and godly family
that worshiped God and gave Him thanks for their prosperity?
What do we see after its breaking-up: hate and rebellion:
with mom and dad being neglected and entirely forgotten?
We have seen the outcome of this social plague: people relying on welfare;
no, our forefathers never experienced or even imagined
of being the scapegoats: the abused and the unloved...
who are those young men and women on the city's streets, or anywhere?
Why are they in such a pitiful state? Don't they have eyes that sag
and lips that are drier than sand? You may find one of your kids there!
Copyright 2012 by Andrew Crisci
I was told it will be sweet
I was told it will be fun
I was told the night will be a really memorable one
The one in which my dignity will be dignified
And my seal will be broken slowly, calmly and passionately
I have always dreamt of the candle lights
The blindfold
The roses and sweet fragrance that will fill the the room
When my man shall make me a woman.
All I have dreamt of
Until Uncle Jide changed the story
And created a paradigm shift in my dream
The beast impregnated my head with scary memories
And forcefully filled me with his infertile cold warm milk
With his muscular self he brutally made my first time a horrible one.
ABSOL
Form:
There is a pronounced ugliness there, brassy, irritable attitudes found nowhere else.
Anger and rage is rampant. Desperation, disease, strife, rape, and murder happen daily.
I shudder at the thought; these concepts are well beyond my sensibilities.
One of the guides flips a button, and the viewing screen starts. I am shown desperate people who are willing to perform unspeakable acts for a meal or a place to sleep.
“Some are deluded not realizing the person they called friend could plunge a knife
Into their heart in an instant of rage, without caring.”
The stories are harsh, stark, frightening, and surreal. I back away from the screen and look
At the leader of the masters. He is glaring at me, awaiting my decision. I can choose to stay in
Heaven to learn my next five lessons, or to go to Earth.
If I choose Earth, it’ll be a lot faster, but Heaven is safe.
“But surely there is some good there,” I argue. My voice cracks, as if I am pleading.
A soft hood nods. “Newborn babies,” she says softly.
The other hoods join in, “Puppies,” “rainbows,” “gentle rain,” “flowers,” “hope,” “faith.”
“I choose to learn my lessons on Earth,” I tell them.
My voice sounds stronger now. “I’ll watch for the good,” I tell them.
I am thinking I’ll nurture it too, so I say that.
Because in Heaven to think a thought is to say it.
I am impregnated within minutes.
By the time I can walk without a toddle, this memory is but a wisp in my hair.
Luckily, my spirit guides will remember.
They remind me in my sleep.
As witness consciousness, we hush heart’s blush
Thoughts rested, attention animated
In time stretched calm, placid, peaceful and plush
From mundane existence, insulated
With cravings of lower mind vacated
Treading gently, renouncing pathways stern
We feel presence by love impregnated
Engulfed in bliss mists, we willingly burn
Humming a melody, as does the thrush
We play out our ordained role, as fated
Every heartbeat heightens, with love our crush
Each emote now as by truth dictated
Demons of our past, thus decimated
Benign love friction causes nodes to churn
How long for this moment, soul has waited
Engulfed in bliss mists, we willingly burn
Polarities dance, the mingle and brush
Nodes within are, by spirit rotated
Feeling a sublime elixir onrush
No wonder heart is always elated
Surging joy that cannot be translated
Magnetism cascades in mind-body urn
Each breath prayerfully celebrated
Engulfed in bliss mists, we willingly burn
Gently thus, by grace initiated
Twice born, we live on, truth of Self discern
Transformed by light, soul’s illuminated
Engulfed in bliss mists, we willingly burn
A boy. Short. He goes to school and cowardly hides behind every corner, scouting out what lurks behind the next turn. Always shoved and disregarded, he seemed to have no friends. He was bullied everyday by this monster. Someone who terrorized him since day one. “Why me?” was his battle cry, just before every black eye.
A boy. Alone. He was adored at school. A big jock. He hated his life, his choices. He picked on this kid, a rather small kid, who was simply pathetic. He would catch glimpses of him, cowering behind corners, and hiding in bathroom stalls. It was this kid that made him popular. He did not hate this him, but simply saw him as an stress reliever. Anger reliever. He was praised at school, abused at home. School was his safe haven; his home away form home, but no one knew what truly went on behind that strong, muscular smile. Divorce. Abuse. Shame. His mother was a prostitute, sold every part of her just to manage to keep him alive. His father was a drunk. Abused every inch of him to relieve him of his intoxicated wounds.
A mom. A prostitute. As a little girl she was very bright. Did well in school, and even managed to get into a good college. It wasn’t until that one night she mad a stupid mistake. It was one of those fraternity parties. “All the cool kids went, right?” She would tell her self. That’s all it took. One kid. One rufie. One sip. Next thing she knew she was pregnant. She dropped out of college. Told her boyfriend it was his kid. Got married. And had a beautiful baby boy. It took five years until she told her husband the truth. The truth about the conception. He left. She was alone, receiving no support. No money. It took her one month until she found herself in the back of a strangers car in an alley way for $200.
A frat boy. A stupid hazing ritual. “Host a party. Drug a girl. Have sex.” Only he made a mistake. He got drunk. Too drunk. He had no control over his actions. The demon residing within him took over, raped a girl, and impregnated her with what ruined her dreams, his dreams. In frustration he went to get fresh air. And made one more stupid mistake. He was conscious of what he did, and knew he could not live with his mistake. Police found him hung from the fraternity balcony the next morning.
This is in dedication to all those who suffered from something that was no in there control.
Buna
by Primo Levi
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Mangled feet, cursed earth,
the long interminable line in the gray morning
as Buna smokes corpses through industrious chimneys...
Another gray day like every other day awaits us.
The terrible whistle shrilly announces dawn:
"Rise, wretched multitudes, with your lifeless faces,
welcome the monotonous hell of the mud...
another day’s suffering has begun!"
Weary companion, I know you well.
I see your dead eyes, my disconsolate friend.
In your breast you bear the burden of cold, deprivation, emptiness.
Life long ago broke what remained of your courage.
Colorless one, you once were a real man;
a considerable woman once accompanied you.
But now, my invisible companion, you lack even a name.
So forsaken, you are unable to weep.
So poor in spirit, you can no longer grieve.
So tired, your flesh can no longer shiver with fear...
My once-strong man, now spent,
were we to meet again
in some other world, beneath some sunnier sun,
with what unfamiliar faces would we recognize each other?
Buna was the largest Auschwitz sub-camp, with around 40, 000 foreigners “workers” who had been enslaved by the Nazis. Primo Levi called the Jews of Buna the “slaves of slaves” because the other slaves outranked them. Despite Buna’s immense size and four years of activity, according to Levi it never produced a kilo of its intended product: synthetic rubber. Levi described Buna as “desperately and essentially opaque and gray.” He said not a blade of grass grew within the compound because its soil had been impregnated with the “poisonous juices of coal and petroleum” so that nothing was alive but machines and slaves, with the former “more alive” than the latter. Levi also related hearing a Buna Kapo say that the only way Jews could leave Auschwitz was “through the Chimney” of the crematorium. It is possible that the companion being addressed in “Buna” is Primo Levi himself, recognizing what he had been reduced to. Keywords/Tags: Primo Levi, translation, Holocaust poem, Auschwitz, Buna, mud, chimney, smoke, smoking, crematorium, corpses, bodies, death, murder, starvation, gray, color, colorless, invisible, nameless, slave, slaves, slavery, slave labor, race, racist, racism, horror, hell