Long Plastic bag Poems
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He never really did learn to treat me like a step-daughter. How could mama marry someone so vindictive?
After daddy died I thought for s u r e we’d be ok. Then Jack walked through the door.
So what if I didn’t finish my homework? That gave him no reason to leave bruises and bumps in places only I can see. He threatened me if I told, I would regret it. Keeping quiet was more dangerous, so I thought…
I shouldn’t have told mama and showed her my s c a r s. I thought the police would’ve taken care of it.
It was warm that night, humidity was rising and sweat was pouring down my forehead as I was tied down by arms stronger than myself. Not once was there a sexual encounter, just a paddle and strong hands. Screaming with a rag in my mouth and in a position I could not break free from. My fear led me to a place of shock. I became quiet and loathsome. After every hit I became more numb, and the more numb I became the more I closed my eyes in weakness. Is this what it felt like to die? The final blow is what caused my final breath. I laid there in a pool of blood and as I rose from my body I saw horrific images of my lifeless body so cold and alone. I died alone in a basement on a cement floor wrapped up in a plastic bag. Twelve years old.
Too young to fight, yet too old to f o r g e t.
Mama was left wailing. She never did forgive herself. Later I saw her in my bedroom holding my blankie and remembering my birth. She was the first to hold me, and couldn't be the last. She needed closure, and I needed h e r …
My youth stolen from a monster who sought pleasure from my death.
My body conquered from a man who brought leisure to my last breath.
Bloodstained floor left marks mama will never be able to forget.
Restrained and more remarks from neighbors; she’ll always regret.
Left lifeless and cold I was tormented from a disturbing step-father so often.
Bereft fight-less as I moaned in agony from a murdering killer left in a coffin.
As mama sat at my grave that cold rainy day she knelt down in prayer asking for divine forgiveness. She laid two white roses on my grave. One for me and one for my daddy. She knew he would take care of me in h e a v e n.
Through Their Eyes II
Sponsor: Shadow Hamilton
Date Written: August 14, 2016
I first noticed the black crow sitting on the lower branch of the old oak tree/ In front of
my house, ten yards out; it's eyes seemed to follow me/ No matter what I was doing, the
bird knew/ Calculated my every move/ Uncharacteristically flapping it's wings, that seemed
to let me know it disapproved/ Whether I was raking leaves or washing the car/ Those
sharp black eyes would not be far/
I thought it was a dream, or perhaps the clock radio/ I awoke in the night to a tapping,
rapping at my bedroom window/ Wiping sleep from my eyes/ I opened the curtain and
jumped back with a cry/ It was the black crow pecking on the glass like he wanted in/ And I
would have sworn I saw a grin!/ Maybe my eyes were tricked by the luminous moon light/
As I began to raise the window, it flew away into the chilly dark night, out of sight/ Uncertain,
I closed the curtain and crawled back into bed/ Deep troubling thoughts filled my head/
The next morning after eating toasted bread/ I found the black crow, dead!/ It was
laying next to my car/ So in a plastic bag I carried it/ To the back yard, I buried it/ By the
time I was finished I was running late./ I had this eerie feeling as I drove slowly past my iron
gate/ Something was amiss, not quite right/ I came to an intersection and stopped at the
light/
As I waited for the light to change/ I felt strange/ I saw death in my minds eye/ Then
the explosion of a tanker-truck lit up the morning sky/ Shielding my face, I let out a cry!/
And as my windshield shattered, the screams were amplified/ I found myself across the
middle console on my backside/ It seems the sounds of twisted metal never died/ I finally
managed to sit up, wild-eyed/
I stepped out and away from my car in a daze/ Several vehicles were ablaze/ I
wondered how could something like this happen so close to the holidays/ But I felt someone
had to die and this was deaths blow/ And then I looked up into the smoke filled sky and saw
a black crow!/
My grandfather taught me an unusual way to catch fish.
I tried it out one night I went with mom who is a musician.
During the day, she gives well off kids, music lessons, piano, guitar, and so on.
Mom is versatile in the music realm, not only instrumental, but composes and sings.
At night she plays in a hula dance troupe known as an Halau (hah-LAU).
They perform at hotels for the tourist, one was Ross Martin from 'Wild, Wild, West', TV series of the 60's, who met personally with the halau, backstage--and an 8 year old me.
I did what was told me by grandpa.
I brought from the house a few bread in its plastic bag.
Where mom plays at night, there's a hotel bar, the hotel sits on the bayfront of Hilo.
Outside the lounge sits stacks of discarded hard liquor bottles that's not always completely empty.
I would pour whatever liquor into the plastic bag of bread, as it sops it up really fast.
I would break up the soaked liquor bread and toss into the bay that's a few feet away from the hotel.
I would have dad's big net with the long handle and wait a short while.
Soon, fish will float up on their sides, stiff and not dead.
I would scoop them up and put them in our Hinode Rice cloth bag.
As they are a variety of fish that would float up, I scooped only one that I like.
The rest would revive and swim away, whilst the caught ones would be slammed onto the ground until the bag stopped moving--better than a prolonged suffocation and or fried alive, which is the method since they are too small of a bother to chop.
We call them, Manini (MAH-knee-knee) which means small in Hawaiian.
They are really good eating fish, very oil enriched--great frying fish.
Silvery body with sparse black stripes going down their flat sides.
Night trips with mom produces a catch between 12 to 18 manini's.
We also have spaghetti, beef stew, curry stew, and I am not listing any Hawaiian food as they are too great a variety.
Date: 06/15/2019
Assaulted Peanuts
They rode across the Western Hills,
For the land of Middle Eyed Bong,
To raid the Salted Peanut Trees,
Of King Pod and his merry throng.
Who were they, this reckless band,
Dare to plunder with motley crew.
They knew not what their fate would be,
Angering the wrath, of Old Cashew.
Cashew is Sentinel of this land,
Most powerful Nut to crack.
Born and raised in the Pecan Mines,
Eyes of Steel and Walnut Black.
Renegade leader of this Gang,
Was Outlawed Percival Grimface,
Once a native of Middle Eye,
Until his assaulted Peanut disgrace.
Pod and Cashew received a snitch,
Of Percival’s imminent raid
and so, prepared their men elite,
The Special Peanut Brittle brigade.
Grimface had an informant,
A betrayer amongst his ranks,
Passed the word to King Pod’s Men,
Who were grateful and offered thanks.
The Brittle Brigade were fighting men,
No one could take them down,
May contain some traces of Nut,
Emblazoned above the Town.
The attack was planned for Midnight,
On the Thirty-Third of July.
A new Moon was clearly visible,
Under a cloudy dark blue sky.
On the edge of town, they did dismount,
To make ready for their swag,
In expectation of stealing Salties
and Take-away in a plastic bag.
The Peanut Trees were just to hand,
When Cashew shouted, GO MEN GO.
Percival walked into an ambush,
He was struck underneath, down below.
No match for King Pod’s Brittle Men,
Who had muscle and sling shot bricks.
Grimface and his Gang, outwitted,
Only Conkers and pointy sticks.
They never saw it coming,
No protection from Peanut shells,
Hastily retreating under fire,
Their pain and ear-piercing yells.
Those Renegades had been dispatched
Back from whence they came,
Never to return to Middle Eyed Bong,
In fear; of getting more, of the same.
If there’s a moral to this story,
Of which I seriously doubt,
Buy your own Salted Peanuts,
Else your villainy will find you out
Good Lord, you are cool, simple, smiling and continuously utter.
It's hard for a head full of noise, bounce, of nastinness - even harder.
Water me with silence while reaching out your palms through the closed shutter.
I am not on my watch, rather I fight with chaos inch by inch
I tell them "You're almighty". They're like "Great!" but then unseen they pinch
One another. I have six flights a week but to You I walk and squinch.
Should I tell You that I'm tired of my loan and that I'm less than promised?
How I laughed at wimps, how I became an entertainer but modest?
How I save my movements giving way to my doubts and things in closet?
You were somewhere close when we drunkards all sang along in the kitchen
Bob Dylan's and Vlad Visotsky's songs, all stops screwed, some started bitching.
And now you're far away when we speak of Yin and Yang and peace pigeon.
Because in your sleep - you wake up! - psychoes are nibbling one another.
I'm condemned to observe how they crave vengeance and count the days, Father.
What am I doing with optics here? Let me go, find some other.
I loved, gave my heart to only three mere humans, just three of your sons.
Now they are unreachable by air, rail or water only by sun.
I use indifferent metal, staples, little flint, dusting - Well done!
My God, my dear Lord, how about some endorphins and serotonin?
Would I ever live 'til or die until my single birthday holding
You? Will I ever make it through all of your music that is molding
Me? Will I make it through all of your moon rivers and all your star camps?
Where all my dead brothers are not greeting me, silenty holding lamps.
Where I'll see for myself that everything happens for a reason, champ.
Where you'll be standing half turned, face not seen with vertigo and jetlag.
With ripples on your shirt like a flag in the wind or a plastic bag,
I'll immediatley realize you're sobbing as you slowly sag.
Form:
The day is winding down and destiny is running around; the day is winding down and everyone is moving up and down the town, the streets are crowded and the people are divided the trucks are loaded with delivery goods and the messengers are walking around with pinewood and cotton gauze tied up in a plastic bag. The weather is fine but the people don’t have a dime.
The cars keep rolling down the street honking their horns; heaven knows what is going on; they are spreading out things on the lawn, is it a yard sale or an auction, there’s got to be some form of reaction. The prices are high for large and small equipment and they are selling like hot bread; it a sale indeed with brand new items taking from the store; the original owners are closing their doors and everything must go, from kitchen sink to bathroom tubs and they have a gorilla skirt to sweep up the dirt.
Some people have no destination but they are moving anyway, they believe that faith will show them the way, with just a book and a note pad and a few pieces of clothes in their bags the couple join the caravan and leave everything behind to start a new life in the unknown.
Some people are bold indeed and start rolling up their sleeve with a fish waddling in their boats and the irony jumping about. The whale is very stubborn but it has message for me and you; your long-awaited dream is about to come through.
It is blow out Friday and everyone is on the run, they have traveled for miles just to have fun. The fountain is flowing and the morning is glowing and the people are dancing in the street; there is a big parade too and big jamboree next door and a thousand horse charging around the bend breaking down the fence and trampling everyone in the den, I have never seen anything like this before, I had to open the door and take ten steps until I reach the elevator.
(love story)
She was only 21-when her fiancés life
Was taken with a gun.
They had three years together
And life was getting so much better.
They had plans for a wedding in June
But it ended much too soon.
He had given her a long stem rose
Then he fell to one knee, and did propose.
She took the rose and with loving tender care
With her diary she would share.
She took the rose and cut the stem
And she knew his love would never end.
She knew with time this flower would wither
And die- and that it was a love between he and I.
So she got the silica gel, And preserved the
Rose very well.
She put it into a plastic bag
and vacuumed out all the air.
Then put it into her diary
Where only she could see.
They said it was a down right shame
That he was in the middle of a shootout
Between two rival gangs.
That was when he lost his life
Before she became his loving wife.
As the tears rolled down her eyes
She started to visualize
Of how her wedding day would have been
Had he not been in the wrong place
At the wrong time.
Their life would have turned out fine.
As she placed the rose upon the diary page
Growing inside of her was a sense of rage.
Why can life be so cruel, and people so full of hate?
But looking at the rose, her heart started to melt
Relieving her of all the anger she felt.
Their love for each other was “ oh so pure”
Of a happy life together she was sure.
Life can be comical, and you never know
What it will bring.
But she got pregnant doing her thing.
Then one night when she fell asleep
Into her mind he did creep
And told her these words:
Now you have three things I left behind
My love, a rose, and a child of mine.
When she awoke, she knew he did not die in vain
For he left a part of himself to relieve her pain.
It comes in waves
Before you know it
Was it always there
It comes in waves
You didn’t think about it today
Did I make it up
Is pain a feeling I’ve ever known
It comes in waves
This time was stronger than usual
The emptiness it left seems bigger than the space inside of me.
Gulping down anything to furnish the bleak landscape left behind until the swirling world resembles the swirling blacks and grays of once intimately known emotions that now seem so far away, out of reach, unable to be processed
It comes in waves
The sun rises and flowers bloom
Blossoming despite the previous storm that threatened to upheave them from their home
Birds flitting from tree to tree
Sun shining down washing away the brain fog and stress like the shortening shadows of the trees it tries so hard to eradicate
It’s almost peaceful in the warm summer morning
It comes in waves
Empty. Again. Aching
Aching to stop feeling
Aching to feel anything more than the resonating nothingness
A feeling that cuts more than any pain
An absence of feeling more palpable than any emotion I’ve ever felt before
Aching
An ache that burns more than the cold air that I greedily breathe to steady myself
Greed
Maybe greed is my problem
Gluttony
The need to consume
Consuming food, drinks, drugs
Indulging beyond satiety, past inebriation
Until I’m numb to even the barren pit that I covetously attempt to fill
The pit that tortures me with its yearning to be filled
So I stuff it with the broken splinters I was given as love before I knew better
They protrude like broken glass through a plastic bag as if reaching out not only to hurt me but those that get close enough to feel the violent nature of how I care for things
The sky is dark
I think a storm is coming
They come in waves
‘Cream Puff’ you were my faithful companion for many years
I recall you were a birthday gift from an old school friend
And I adored you from the moment I held you in my hands
As a teenager I remember taking you with me to my first job in London
You sat on my bedside table and were a constant reminder of home
In 1989 I moved in with my fiancé and he loved you too
He decided you would be a wonderful ‘guard dog’ for our car
For 27 years you sat proudly on the dashboard of every vehicle we owned
Over time you started to show signs of old age
The sun tanned your skin and your once bright coat faded
About five years ago disaster struck and your ‘brains’ burst out of your head
I tried to perform surgery on you with my needle and thread
But it was useless as you were so old and frail
So we left you sitting quietly in the car enjoying your twilight years
Yesterday tragedy struck as we were travelling a long a pretty country road
I was gazing at the azure sea whilst my hubby was at the wheel
Suddenly the next thing I knew you were sitting on my lap
My hubby had picked you up and thrown you to me to see if I could help you
I could see that there was nothing that could be done to save you
Your aged skin had got so thin it had totally disintegrated
Little wooden beads had burst out of your bottom and legs
There was just a little pile of wooden beads where you once sat
Tenderly I scooped you up and placed you in a plastic bag
We then spent a long time picking up your insides piece by piece
As they were scattered like ashes all over the front seats of the car
Now I know the time has come to finally say adieu
Goodbye Cream Puff
A treasured companion for over 40 years
You will be missed by us all
03~31~17
Let's ditch a poly bag.
Let's ditch a poly bag.
Yes, you heard it right,
Whether it's a straw,
A cup or a plate,
Whether it's bottled water or a polybag
All land in a landfill
And finally in the ocean.
Using these is like scratching
Our earth all over her body.
So, let's ditch a poly bag
Let’s get rid of the plastic bag.
Do it by saying no to the vendor.
Show him your grace,
By producing a cloth bag.
No! Not that,
I didn't say that.
You got it wrong.
I know you are aware,
And carry your bag,
But don't you stuff it
With so many plastic bags?
Let's think! Let’s think the matter again,
And try ditching that cursed bag.
Fill your bag with the fruits and the veggies,
And the Chocolate and the cookies.
Just without that poly bag,
Let’s abandon that poly bag.
I promise, I promise,
They won't eat one another.
Yes, they’ll get mixed.
But it hardly matters.
You can manage, we can manage.
Coz’ that really matters.
We cannot poison are Mom,
In the name of convenience.
Can you? Can you? Can you?
No, none of us can.
I understand,
The vendor will not listen,
Will give you a smile with question,
He may laugh at you,
Strange looks may follow,
As if you are an alien.
But you will have to do this.
You will have to refuse and produce a cloth bag.
Not for me and not for yourself,
But for the coming generation.
For you love your mother earth.
And coz’ you are enlightened.
So,
Sow a seed of ‘No’
A ‘No’ not please anyone.
A ‘No’ just to show your gesture.
That you love yourself and the people around.
Remember! This is going to help.
Don't forget! every ‘No’ from your side is going to help.
Now, I have done my part,
It’s time, to show your heart.
Date : 12/07/2017