Long Just around the bend Poems
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For one full year I have been thrown in the lion`s den
And the lion has been running and jumping
And pulling savagely at my leg
The philistines also surround me
with a hidden weapon dancing beneath me
And the church with all it`s hyprocrasy and
white hats barking down the hill
looked at me in dismay as I ran virougsly up the hill
If I am hungry no one knows, if I am sick no one knows
If I am sad, no one knows and when I am at peace with them
They throw tissue paper in my face and called me the Devil from hell
They call me names but I stand looking at them without shame
If only I could get through this day,
I would hold up my hands and say
This is just another day.
Yes this is just another day and you have
to embrace it before your heart goes astray
The meeting and the dealing
The cheating and the underlined feelings,
The signiture on top of the dollar
And the hour that dosn`t look proper
And when the day is done
This is the place where they shout Amen Alleluia
This is the place where the devil is enraged
My spirit is flaming inside me
And the birds are flying about me
Oh what profanity,
Oh what desolution when the windows of heaven breaks loose
And you have no one to bend down and lace your shoes
And when you cannot minister to my innate cry the earth will open
its guts and penetrate all the rust with the passing of time
I cannot release this welled up tears that has been
watering my eyes for over one year
It is the daily despositon that make me sigh and
the lack of understanding that they cannot deny
A gang of men and a pack of wolves speaking
above their voices with no vision or insight they
are just working daily for a bligh, and when
the evening is done they go to bed with saw dust on their front
I still cannot feel at peace here, and I will not live in fear
I am going to get up and just walk out of here
No finger to burn and no message to return
It feels like a wilderness surrounds me
And a fire is raging above me
And just around the bend,
It feels like the lion is grinding in the den
The month is coming to an end when
And I wish that the sorrows will go away
The day is absorbed in its own horror
And I wish for a better tomorrow
When knowledge will clothe the face
And wisdom will prevail over the race
Remove the covers off your face and strike
a deal before it is too late.
A Blessing In Disguise
Many years ago, I was asked to give the blessing at dinner. As a guest, this was not something I was accustomed to and therefore declined, finding myself in a losing debate. “It’s not a big deal; just acknowledge ONE thing that you are thankful for”. Politely, I said no, then stood up and left.
Each and every one of us is on a path and that path can be long and winding. Though some boast with confidence, no one can know what is coming just around the bend. It is that bend that I have always tried to prepare for, to do what’s right, to be ready. But life is not a vacation, in which you can pack.
Many years later and after my divorce, I felt lost and more afraid than ever before. Realizing that a path is more than HOW you take your next step, it is who, that you are NOW. But, I don’t know, who I am! I have withdrawn or been abandoned from many friends. I have tried to focus on my kids and myself. I have tried to breathe, through meditation. But, with no avail.
Early on, I reached out to a friend I hadn’t seen in 16 years. And though she lives out of state and has a life of her own, she will periodically call to see how I am. I am thankful! A couple of years ago, out of the blue, a woman (my first love!) had messaged me. She was in town and wanted to catch up. We had talked for hours, as if 26 years apart were no more than just a day. I am thankful! A friend here in town that knows of my strife, who listens to me and gives advice with an unconditional kindness. I am thankful! And for the dinner I had today, where I am always invited without fail. I am thankful!
So in these last few years, on this narrow rocky path that I walk, I am beginning to see a glimmer of hope. Not that much has really changed for me, but I am changing in the way that I look at things. Choosing, in how I see. Deciding to re-look at my life to see how and where I am today. And I am thankful!
On a final note; the blessing that I was asked to give, I realize now that it was a blessing in disguise. Not only did they want me to be thankful, but they also hoped it would draw me from my shell. Never underestimate the power of God to put someone in your life. Incredible things can happen when you’re willing to believe.
Thankfully Yours, Jeffrey
Form:
It was an illicit affair, you'd think, they wouldn't dare, they believed, if we handle it with care no one would be aware. Bur they made a grave err and it became a very heavy cross to bear.
Now the woman had flare with long, wavy hair, very well to do, a millionaire, she was known as cleaver Clair. Clair was doing just fine, marriage in tact, the woman was stacked, walking a straight line. Out of the blue, her life turned on a dime.
When she met a man who looked to be grand, seemed to have the upper hand, in complete command and he was called dapper Dan.
Dapper Dan was a secretive.man, although he had a wife and kids, he kept it very well hid. But Claire didn't mind, felt she needed to unwind and leave everything else behind, traveling a road completely blind.
Now they both were prominent the very substance in life they seemed to represent and all the people were looking at them with amazement. Until they looked into each other's eyes and was taken by surprise, they became mesmerized, what came next was very unwise.
They threw caution to the wind and committed the ultimate sin. It felt a so right, it couldn't be wrong, they were singing love songs, two people that just didn't belong. Things soon started to go wrong.
When they had to settle for quickies as their lives became tricky and the affair really sticky. No matter how hard they tried to keep it hid, life opened the lid then came an awful smell when life dropped a bombshell. It was time to say farewell.
Yes the jig was up and they had to drink from an extremely bitter cup. And they were genuinely sad for they could plainly see the beautiful lives they already had. Since they knew they had strayed they became afraid, for the first time in their lives they prayed.
Eventually they put their lives back together but they had to go through some awfully stormy weather. For those beautiful lives they earned. A hard lesson learned.
You see, you can work your game but it will take aim, put a bead on you like a sniper, then strikes like a pit viper, although your schemes can have you feeling hyper. Remember, just around the bend there awaits. The Piper.
You can never be free of old love
it'll always be caged in your heart and head
At any time the ghost of old love can hijack your brain
turn it into a forest of monkeys
shaking the branches of your memory
tossing fruit of the past(rotten and sweet)
pelting the present
a parrot on each of their shoulders
mocking: you're not living
...ya shoulda picked me
ya shoulda picked me!
You're really living a double life
one in the tangible-one in your monkey mind,
one house brimming with the old love
shuddered and blistered with peeling paint
its rooms filled with wild cherry pits
a bag of cheap mexican gold
copper pots filled with vipers and laughter
a carousel of coyotes and fire ants
zigzagging along box canyon rapids
the big fall just around the bend of night
where everything was deadly but very alive,
it was all about accumulating scars of living.
Your new house is freshly painted
everything is uncomfortably perfect
just like you see on a movie set
perfect lines perfect hair
perfect lipstick never smeared
but where's the living-the life
the grime in the corner,
that clownish tangle of underwear at the foot of the bed.
Your conversations are a stepping stone
to get through dinner
this house can never burn down
because it lacks fire
there's only oatmeal and epsom salt
where nothing is deadly but everything's dead
the only scar is not living
You miss the imperfections of the old love
imperfections are the soil of life
where serpents wrap around sunflowers
spitting fiery pearls and manic thorns-
of course there is the crash to follow
but it is worth it
you didn't know it then but you know it now
Where you live now
there are no serpents or sunflowers
there are no exploding pinwheels
there is no fear
discussions are just a sparkless interview in gray
and what about the quiet moments,
are they uncomfortable
or are they filled with monkeys and parrots
slamming into your brain,
screaming
ya shoulda picked me!
ya shoulda picked me!!
A strange sight upon a lonely road.
A dream ripped in half.
Looking closer, I wonder what was the travail.
An old price tag attached, making me wonder at what price it was sold.
Along the edges, tattered and torn, it gave forth an evil laugh.
As if some sly devil concocted a way to turn someone pale.
Onward I traveled, with pack upon my back.
To the left and right of the road were littered with more broken dreams.
So many that one could not keep track.
Some having been blown into the parallel stream.
So, I checked the pack upon my back.
And, yep all my dreams were there in a stack.
Cold winds howl, trying to rip my back pack to shreds.
Freezing were the winds, but forward I march.
Never losing sight of my dreams in spite of many dreads.
They all hold up strong even though many times I'm in a lurch.
Suddenly I see people returning to the road.
Going back and picking up their dreams.
Dusting them off and restoring them to their pack.
Each and every one said to me, you are quite bold.
To go forth and not let the cold winds of fate not destroy your knack.
To face life as it comes and not give up even if offered gold.
Good, bad fortune, are likewise of no importance.
Put a failed dream back in your pack and maybe a new day will appear.
Where you can unpack that dream and give it another go.
But, for today, march forward, today's failure might tomorrow's dance.
You gave it your best, and win or lose, that game has ended with a spear.
Win or lose, that game is done so pack it's knowledge away in your pack and grow.
Suddenly down the road a new vista appears and a brand new game.
Left high and dry or victorious are the two possible ends of any venture.
But in truth, knowledge is all you will have, win or lose.
For tomorrows game is just around the bend, all the same.
Win or lose, the game of life only ends for the moment within sight of the new adventure.
So, to quit and call it the end, only makes you look like a goose.
how it came to be this way,
s/he just can’t believe---
as the cliché goes,
“it seems like just yesterday”
that they had been rolling,
bouncing,
drilling in the hay &
yet,
s/he wasn’t spared what others
told him/her would be
the
inevitable---
for soon, interest in the rolling,
the bouncing & the
drilling
to the heights of that once
compassionate bond
between the two of them,
on the part of
her/his still significant
other,
faded &
dissipated away,
to the point where
the suggestion of separate
rooms was made,
for “it really is easier to
sleep in a bed alone,
honey,” s/he
was told quickly.
increasingly embarrassed as
the days go by, to have to
walk that long hallway in order
to knock on the door of
her/his past-lover who is now
simply a housemate,
to ask for the scraps of intimacy
that may be left,
that might be allotted to him/her
before it has all washed away
entirely,
s/he starts to change her/his look,
s/he gets a different hairstyle &
s/he starts to become receptive
to those around him/her that
might want more than a chat
by the fax machine or a stroll
outside the facility after
lunch---
where it will go, where it
can go, nobody knows,
but one can believe that s/he
feels guilty, because
that good ol’ christian upbringing
has instilled in him/her
a complex, which hid his/her own
sexuality
for so many years &
now it spreads inside
like the most rampant of cancers,
beating against the walls inside
her/his brain, that s/he must
be devoted,
that s/he must do what s/he must
in order to keep a
“happy” home,
that s/he must deny her/his own
body,
that s/he mustn’t indulge during
the
only
life
that
s/he
has &
so, just around the bend is not only
the end of a “relationship,”
but also the end of
a “faith,”
one that should have been dead
long ago &
the neglected lover,
the neglected believer,
will no longer be neglected.
once s/he puts her/his foot down &
walks away from it all.
Just Around the Bend…
by Odin Roark
Make-believe knows
Hand in hand
Guardian and child
Never ceases to be
As words meet words
Sentences find paragraphs
Pages turn new discovery
Begetting chapter upon chapter
And then…
Often faith’s endurance knows no end
Like a turkey too numb
To know its head is gone
Or a truck forever stuck in relentless mud
Even the mind’s conscience ratchets its continuous drone
Long past heart’s flickering pictures
Have jumped off sprocket
Coiling images’ remains upon a floor
Always willing to catch the fallen
Knowing restarting is always possible
Yet
In the house
That might have been a home
The phone continues to ring off the hook
Like a metronome gone berserk
Bent on satiating rhythm’s appetite
Past the inevitable wind down
With eyes closed…
Survival holds firm one’s make-believe castle
The house now empty
Save for whispers from the past
Knowing well the drafts of loneliness
Shiver the drifting dust
Becoming the only skin left to touch
Unknowingly
The residual past
Moves through unneeded locks
Once securing doors leading to
Now forgotten passions of privacy
Images rendered blind
By keyhole mockery
Remaining…
The heart’s keyboard
Once delivering its voice of hope and trust
Now accelerating words no longer noticed
Meaning hurtling past yesterday and tomorrow
Like a bullet train screeching off its rails
Ricocheting off walls once holding secure
Now speeding toward a boarded-up station
Once of hourly expectation
A platform crowded with promise
Giving back a passing ghostly blur
So travel hearts in linguistic search
Myth makers pursuing beautiful language
Knowing delivery never guarantees
Anyone waiting to hear the words
Save perhaps the make-believe child
Walking hand in hand
Believing along with the writer
That just around the bend…
We all fit where God has chosen and yet we believe it’s us who have coveted
That we do the desiring, selling tickets to your mother and then selling a dance and then you
You swam upstream with strength and the olive branch, twisted into a circle to form the crown
The rest died and your jubilance was pure and watching I held you screaming and I looked into my eyes which you had taken
The change came quick from infant to boy and we moved forward with the wind at our backs
Sitting at the top of the stairs you asked me each night,” Daddy, will you rub my back?” And I claimed it as my medal
You grew into these new clothes and life which manipulates all who are different and I fought them as they tried to make you fit
We traveled the World and the spinning. It never stops as your mind. You had friends and I got on and slowed
We looked eye to eye and you taught me who you were. You looked at me and our love came as the Sun each day
I knew you were getting ready to fly
And those strong wings spreading and waiting for the gust
I saw your first flight and it didn’t go as intended but you were in love. The ankle wasn’t. I saw your eyes
You had seen her and she had told you about yourself with her eyes.
I knew you were going back and the words
I look for you still on the horizon but it’s been long. My eyes have weakened, my heart has aches. I pray for you and to see
I hope you remember the lessons. They came from my father and he has grown cold and yet I still talk with him everyday
I’m just around the bend in your memory if needed. Just pray and you will see me and the fire burning
I’m hoping you make it home and as that last ember slowly dies. I’m always scanning the skyline and the light is on
Inspection Time 2018!
Dum...dum...dum...dum...DUH -
anxiety shot thru stratosphere upon
good news notification aboot
a fortnight from this last
Friday of August tooth
house sand date teen,
rankling the body
electric sans this "FAKE" ole coot
which panic stricken state
(as iterated above),
where quiet listening affected
(with eyes shut wide)
Mozart's The Magic Flute
hearing such melodic notes
while lying sue
pine versus sitting
upon me comfort
ably numb glute
if attuned to said renown composer,
whose name familiar
'round the world wide web,
where his person posthumously
rings up substantial loot,
yet such rambling moot,
when priority must first
and foremost doth attend,
asper tidying up
apartment, cuz inspection
just around the bend
thus also a prayer would be
appreciated (by this atheist)
and/or juiced an email friend
e'en keeping limitation,
i.e. sharing trained,
unwavering, vaunted, wishing,
yearning for zesty gerund
forming relationship to
the maximum reciprocity,
thee world wide web doth lend
no...no...no...NOT focused
on anything greater,
than heartfelt succor, asper
tear riff hick
genuine fantastic Earthling
my darned cruel blimey
soc erratic angst to mend,
though married, tis
resplendent dear people
scattered far and wide
courtesy of the internet,
one can ride
upon the information
super highway with pride
minus prejudice and
trusty Google as guide,
perhaps...even fostering,
kickstarting, and ushering
online groom and/or bartered bride.
To serve and protect
Any person with an intellect can see that to serve and protect you must serve and
protect and not beat and neglect
I’ve seen police that made people hit the deck for the visual effect; they were so
joyful they became erect and pumped their pecks
They’re everywhere from here to there and they drive off fear whether close or near and
gloat about it peer to peer
Police are far and in between as drug dealers are just around the bend
But
The pigs rather evoke emotion from the common being
Not old enough o drink but old enough to think
So, who is being served and protected?
5 0 takes people’s rights and neglect em’; When asked about it, they take the questions
and deflect em’
I have the right to remain silent but they keep asking questions and saying I’m going to
learn my lesson
Anything I say can and will be used against me because they still goin’ beat on me but
my pride maximized x3 because the man in me won’t let me be a victim of the police
I have the right to an attorney, but all he gone do is screw me and say plea and that
ain’t me; doing time gleefully is not for me to do out of stupidity
If I can’t afford an attorney one will be provided for me because their view is one-
sided and they want it to say it was me without trying it
Come on and read me my rights because you already took my god-given rights and shackled
them out of sight never to be seen again by my eyes
My rights have been took even rooked and shook by the hook by the crooks from the police
department of the county of Cook in the land the white took by taking the Natives and
boot em’
What else could I expect from the people who are suppose…
To serve and protect