Long Protecting(a) Poems
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Skulls and roses, skulls and crossbones, most of people who died alone.
Skulls in corpses, skulls in the living, ‘til they decompose, protection is what they’re giving.
Protect the mind, that tissue so soft, but easily shaken, easily sent aloft.
Protecting a soul, so sweet and tender, but nothing, not even nature, can live forever.
They give you medicine, sell you lies, say “this will make you better.”
When there wasn’t anything wrong with you, ever.
They give you Churches, where those skulls hide under dirt, and tell you to put their god first.
But for life, for creativity, for the freedom to be yourself, you thirst.
And you know your gods were there, holding your hand, first.
You know your gods created the skull that protects your beautiful mind,
the flesh that carries your soul so blessed by the divine.
Filled by gods and goddesses, your soul a creature unaffected by time.
A creature that’s had many skulls, lived countless lives.
And you will live again, another skull to protect your blessed mind.
"The human heart has hidden treasures, in secret kept, in silence sealed. The thoughts, the hopes, the dreams, the pleasures, whose charm were broken if revealed." Charlotte Bronte
Sometimes I've been forced to wear a mask
to escape from people who continue to ask,
"I know you're keeping secrets. I can tell."
Relentlessly, they harp, push and compel.
With accusing fingers pointed, they attack
but I turn and walk away, never looking back
Though none of their business, they're dying
to learn the secrets I know, and keep denying.
I'll never give away confidences I've been told.
It's a burden that I bear, a responsibility I hold.
Gossips try to discover what I keep concealed,
but disclosures made to me will not be revealed.
Protecting a secret is a promise that once made
must be guarded or risk a friend being betrayed.
I have my own secrets that shouldn’t be disclosed.
It's better they stay buried and never be exposed.
Secrets live in the shadowed corners of my mind,
in dark depths they swim, where no one can find.
What's been entrusted to me, I've vowed to keep.
I'm a prisoner of silence, causing no one to weep.
November 2, 2021
"S" Contest
Hosted by Constance La France
I AM OKAY?
JUST DOING GREAT!!!!
WITH A HESITATION
YES, OF COURSE IN APPRECIATION
TAKING IT DAY BY DAY
GREAT HEALTH, GOOD JOB
NICE CAREER
FUNDS BUILT-UP
BUT, DOWN IN A SPIRAL
AS IF THERE IS NO TOMORROW
GOING ON PRETENDING
JUST MISERY AND IN SHAME
JUST PROTECTING A NAME
DEEP DOWN INSIDE
MISERABLY IN DARK PAIN.
THERE IS HOPE
THERE IS TOMORROW
YOU DO NOT NEED TO BE IN PAIN
OR IN A DROWNING SORROW
LIFTING YOUR HEAD UP HIGH
PRAYING TO JESUS
ON BENDED KNEES
PLEAD, PLEAD, PLEAD.
JESUS KNOWS ALL
THE MASTER, THE KING
YOU'LL BE REALLY OKAY
TAKE IT DAY BY DAY
PRAY, PRAY, AND PRAY.
GOD GETS THE GLORY
HE KNOWS YOUR TRUE STORY.
There was a knight with locks that were golden
Protecting a kingdom in threat of folding
King and his trusting mighty duck
Caring only for the almighty buck
From the north
Sharks were present for what it was worth
Putting on stage predators telling them to go forth
Until one day in a foggy dream
A mariner let out a scream
There was a gigantic Kraken
Started attacking
With only eleven on board
Holding things on shore
Trying not the rip the chord
Apparently the King’s mighty duck
Got wind about the maritime bad luck
Issuing a statement through a loud quack
How the fisherman got whacked
Upon pondering the news
King knew what to do
Take the singing predator out on a date
Make them lyrical bait
Seasoned to perfection
No reason for a rejection
Sending the sharks in
From the tank where they are projected to win
Sticking out their deadly fin
Somewhere in the desert the knight with golden locks
Was watching the clock
When a peasant came by
Noticing the golden lock good looking guy
Walking her coyote companion
Ran in
To each other
Both needing a lover
Smiling a grin
Knight with the golden locks was getting ready to sin
When a quack was heard
King’s message distributed from his trusting swimming bird
“What do you mean Kraken is alive
Wasn’t the sea hawks patrolling the sky
I must go and be the 12th man
Take a warrior stand”
Off the knight with the golden locks went into battle
Easy corralling the aqua monster like it was cattle
In the end he steamed Kraken real good
Delicious sea food
Understood
Glazed with special oils
Before wrapped in foil
Canucks placed at its side
Decorating the meal that was worth a tasty try
When the knight with golden locks came home
There was a call on his phone
From the peasant girl asking “are you all alone?”
Meeting halfway
Wedding ring proposing lifelong stays
As for the Kraken
Needed to receive backing
Sharks and predators answered the request
Wanting the knight with golden locks to be put to another test
The way to a girls heart
seems to be sour candy?
She loves the way it puckers her lips.
She get's talkative, "as if", a Sleeping Beauty.
Awakened by gumdrop of her seize kiss.
She is a slave to the sassy
kicked up notch of flavor rainbow hyper-twitch.
You are a slave to having treats on hand
and obey her every bossy command.
Her eyes light up, ignited in an electric glee,
Unleashing her inner child with a key.
With every tangy explosion,
comes a remembered idea or notion.
It's as if the world around her fades,
and all that's left is the zesty escapade.
The way to her heart may be simple and sweet,
though the power to move her
cannot be beat.
For true happiness lies in the simplest of things,
Like rewards and laughter and all the joy
that they bring.
So don't underestimate the power of a treat,
it can awaken a heart and make it seat next to you,
in solidarity.
Although, when she crashes, she may get grumpy, then go to sleep.
But just look at that lil candy dream !
For in her mind, she'll roam free,
a girl again in a world of candy and sugary glee, safety and family things of memory.
In that moment, you'll see her soul,
Unencumbered by worry,
a rare sight to behold, let alone coury.
So when you give her a piece of candy,
you're not just giving her something bland, savvy?
You're giving her a moment to escape,
and yourself too,
vicariously.
To find joy and happiness,
and reshape that spirit,
as she salivates upon it,
intraveneously?
Like a Viking Maiden, or Dragon
protecting a treasure in a cave.
A cat guarding it's dish with claws entrenched,
growling, stay away.
"You shall not pass" and "Eye Of Sauron" mixed in a frightening way.
"Taste the rainbow of my fruity fu****wrath",
she might say.
Though skittles may be small and sourly-sweet,
an insignificality.
A token holds the power to make a heart
skip a portaled beat.
For in that moment, she feels alive and free,
all thanks to that simple little treat,
given lovingly, in a cheer to her memories.
Reminders, hopeful omens
and thoughtfulness's zing.
Doorways to the finer things.
Mum sat in her aromatic garden,
admiring its charm and grace.
It was a cold morning,
but mum never seemed to feel it any more.
Her eyes were tired, life's adversities had taken their toll,
yet the smallest things filled them with joy.
Like the perennial ivory lilies blossoming
among her loyal, royal forget-me-nots.
The tranquil scents of lilac lavender,
blooming among radiant Jerusalem sage,
always made her smile.
Her hands were wrinkly, but resilient,
despite years of hard work as a single mother.
Still strong enough to tend to her grandiose display
of ruby red, aureolin yellow and puce pink roses.
Mum always told me the thorns were like knights -
there to protect the rose's fragility.
That a woman is a man's most precious flower,
requiring tender care and appreciation.
Evergreen conifers parade along the perimeter of
my lovely mother's garden, like a colony of soldiers,
protecting a beautiful, yet delicate,
Japanese cherry blossom tree.
Mum always told me it reminded her about life,
how everything was temporary, just like its fragile buds,
that only blossomed in the spring and
how the lightest breeze blew them away.
Mum taught me so much and was my inspiration,
picked me up when I was defeated,
taught me that only in defeat do we learn.
When the world tried to change me,
taught me to accept myself,
to love myself before I could love others
and be true to who I am.
As I sat with mum admiring the beauty of the seeds sown,
melancholic tones flooded my emotions,
wondering how I would cope without her.
Was I selfish wishing to die before her,
so I would not have to mourn for her,
but it would be so heartbreaking
for her to mourn for me.
My contemplation was interrupted by an outbreak of rain.
Mother simply smiled and said:
"Rain is mercy from God, my son."
Written 26 February 2016
He talked about strippers
I was ten in my slippers
I heard the sound of his zipper
I prayed for Jack the Ripper
It started back when I was nine
I felt a cold chill down my spine
His calloused hands touched mine
But I pretended I was fine
This man called me sexy
This man called me beautiful
And at the age of nine I thought that was suitable
He controlled every aspect
He controlled my whole life
Didn’t know that his plan was for me to be his next wife
My mom had no clue
And no one ever knew
I was protecting a monster, he screwed up my views
I thought that he loved me
I thought that he cared
But my body was the only thing that he wanted to share
I was a confused little child
Hiding shame behind a smile
I was trying to adapt to this dark new lifestyle
But now that I’m older
I cry on my own shoulder
I left a broken home before it got any colder
I’m no longer the victim
Of the traps that he set
I rose above the trauma and the scars of regret
The monster is gone
This child is free
It’s time to move on and count my blessings in threes