Long Run and hide Poems
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Judgement day is every day when you're trying to survive in a decent way. Clean up your life and move away, to a new playground for the kids to play. It's an Oreo cookie way of life, broader than black and white. Trying to break to the surface to see the light, but you keep getting suppressed.. it takes all your fight.
Drop out came a long way.. From counting stacks of 3 to a GED. On the outside mamma's so proud of me. But inside she's scared she don't want to see me take another fall, slip up and lose it all. X'ed up, punching holes in the wall. She's cautious for my life, she cries: "I wish you could see it through my eyes".
Accidentally got caught up in the game and chase again. Never had let go, the past was still holding onto my hand. Slowly takes over, but you keep it undercover. Keep it on the low, thinking nobody's going to know. But somehow I stayed on top of it. Only slinging and drugging on the weekends and ****. Got through my Friday and played on payday. Dedicated worker specialized in crazy.
Then one I day my end started to begin. I changed my life and I traded it in.. For a camouflage uniform that covered the scars on my skin. I ended up losing my freedom, tied down with conflicting feelings. Gun in my hand, I was told to defend, the pain and the hell that I had abandoned. The bad guy in trusted boots, ripped myself from my roots. I planted my self far from the town I was raised in.
Kind of felt like I was betraying there trust, leaving my love for a life that's lust.
But then again.. I finally felt filled inside, alive. Maybe there was a reason I looked at my past, and wanted to run and hide. No longer scraping dough to get high. Now I see it again, that pride. The sparkle in mamma's eye. And for the first time it ain't a tear from fear. Can't plan ahead a god damn year. Now she has hope instead of dread, from that knock on the door saying: "Your little girl's dead."
I opened my eyes and I stopped listening. Closed my ears to the phrases of hustlers. "Act classy, you're a lady" was all they could muster. How did they think ladies could survive in these streets? Double standards of life, a game you'll never beat.
I lived how I wanted, they said it was no place for a girl. But once I shared what I had, it became our world. I found the "I" in family, once the pain killers got a hold of me. They kill the pain but bring the misery.
Sally Sue Has A Bad Day
Little Sally Sue awoke one day feeling quite blue.
Her mom asked "Why, whats wrong with you?"
Sally replied, "If i only knew."
She looked in her closet and hated her clothes.
She looked in the mirror and hated her nose.
She looked all around hating everything she had.
She glanced out the window, even the neighborhood's bad.
She slumped down the stairs to get ready for school.
And scoffed at her breakfast (A bowl full of gruel)
In walked her dad asking "Why you look sad? My dear do you need to talk?"
I could drive you to school in a minuet or two."
"No thanks dad i'd rather walk.
So she headed down the block tripping over a rock, her books flying everywhere.
She said in a huff as she picked up her stuff.
"This day's becoming a nightmare!"
When she got to school things did not get better
(Caught her arm on a nail and ruined her sweater)
Sally screamed in frustration as she examined her sleeve.
"That's it! Now i'm really peeved!"
"I'm sick of my life and i'm sick of theis day! I wish the whole world would just go away!"
There was a hush in the hallway, the whole room sighed.
Sally lost control and she started to cry.
A teacher came up and took Sally aside.
She sat Sally down and said, "There now, don't cry."
"What is the trouble dear? Why all the strife? Why do you scream that you hate your life?"
Sally wiped her face trying to erase, how stupid she felt for crying.
She put on a frown and stared at the ground,
"Nothing" she said obviously lying.
"I believe you" teacher said "Though your words aren't quite true."
"Something is wrong-though it seems "nothing" to you."
"Though your problems seem small, they can add up quite fast"
"And become overwhelming, seeming forever to last."
"Just do your best to take each problem one by one. Understanding as you do, life's not always that fun."
"There will be bad days and responsibility too."
"It's that way for everyone, not only you Sue."
Now what would you do if you were Sally Sue?
Would you run and hide knowing life can be hard?
Because Sally did not, Sally was much too smart.
She went on with her day with her head held high, remembering not to give up and always to try.
And her day DID get better as she took things one at a time.
And when they did not work out,
Sally Sue didn't mine.
The day I have to watch what I say
Is the day I wake up to see that I lost myself
Ask me why I want to run away As your screaming at me everyday
Ask me why I can't stand my life
When every time I stand up you push me from behind
Tell me the world is at my feet and you will always be there
When I look around and see my family crying to my face and scheming when I walk away
Tell me to fix my life when my life is locked so far away from me I can't even see myself in the mirror
Now ask yourself why isn't she happy
We promise the world when she leaves
Only to dangle her dreams out of reach
Why do my words mean so much to you
When the world can see that you aren't true
But behind close doors you don't have a clue
You told me if I was lost you would find me
But when tears stream from my face and I tell you
Daddy, I don't know what I am doing
Daddy, help me through Daddy please I really need you
A stone face looks at me and says You've been lost for years
I'm sure you will pull through
My hate has been mistake for strength
And your hate and my hate
Broke a soul I can never remake
You tell me emotion are for the weak
We beat them down till they are on full retreat
I lived a life of feelings and friends
And that was when I was at my weakest
So you pulled me back in
But daddy can I tell you have you ever cried yourself asleep
Because your words cut to deep.
Have you ever been so happy that you promised yourself nothing could take that away
Just to see a knife to your throat by the person that swore to protect you
Imagines of the past rip through my future
As every step becomes cold and calculated
Disappointment is easier to handle then success
And pain is more acceptable then love
Now keep wondering why I can't fix my life
When the only things I can count on happening
Is everything in this world that would bring down the strongest person
Tell me to move forward and remember you kept me down so long I forgot how to walk
And then explain to my friends why I Flinch away from everyone’s hands
So how can I be better dad, when you taught me to run and hide?
I wish I could fix myself I've even prayed that one day everything would be ok
But if you and your life for me taught me anything
It's don't hope and don't dream It's better to just pretend
And wait until this life ends
Management here at
Highland Manor Apartments sent out word
that tomorrow, January twenty third,
two thousand and twenty one,
we (all residents) will receive the first (of two)
inoculations to stave off getting COVID-19,
hence mine poetic title might seem absurd.
Aforementioned stance toward death
obviously antithetical
regarding desire to stay alive
and most oppressive
when mine mental, physical
and/or spiritual yours truly
takes a (swan) dive
analogous where bajillion bees
swarm from their hive.
Linkedin with well known poem by and by
penned by Emily Dickinson, I didst decry
expressed her relief to die
"Because I could not stop for Death,"
she aptly crafted verses to comply
reverently, merrily, and gloriously accepting
cessation of existence well nigh
as does one garden variety generic goofy guy.
All natural catastrophes aside,
plus excluding thermonuclear war,
where civilization would get fried
nullifying idea viz,
let conscience be your guide,
nor no place to run and hide
left to grapple with dystopian quandary
shuttering fright housed inside
in one poof annihilating prejudice
(white privilege included) and pride
reducing to ashes trumpeting
self importance, where snide
persona grata becomes irrelevant
as does living social
or vacationing in Telluride.
Interestingly enough,
I do not entertain notions
inflicting self harm nor suicide,
but expect longevity (to ride
one after another orbitz around the sun)
maximum total (represented courtesy
value units and tens place)
at minimum exceeds double digits
in plain English aged
to perfection groom and bride
attains at least ninety nine years.
Despite skittering within hair's breadth or blink
looming over the edge no time to think,
cuz no matter being knight in shining armor
I can scrunch and squint thru visored chink,
and espy and the title
of a storied book by Tom Wolfe I think
Old Rotten Gotham sliding into behavioral sink,
amidst so much flotsam and jetsam
while singing Skidamarink
surrender unavoidable fate
cuz destiny dis rapper doth not shrink
and recognizes that whatever does not kill
will only make me stronger
(money back guarantee)
I attain a spry five score birthdays
and while away hours
playing solitary game of tiddlywink.
Two children walking down the street.
Seven or eight years old, the most that they could be.
Looking through the garbage for something to eat.
They found a half eaten hamburger that was thrown away
This treat would make their day.
They broke it in half , and together they ate
But they had to hurry for it was getting late.
Sooner older kids would be around and they
Knew that they would have to scramble and fight
For every morsel and every bite.
They hurried through the garbage
to see what else they could find.
Then they would have to run and hide.
The older kids would always bully the young
For on the streets this is how it is done.
They found a cup which still had soda and ice
And a small bags of fries
and with that they could get by.
They ran to an abandoned building where they slept
This is where they sat and wept
On a dirty torn mattress, and rags to use as a pillow.
And the sounds of rats in the rafters.
They huddled next to each other, and they began to pray.
This is what their mother showed them before she passed away.
They didn’t have any relatives that they knew of
But they prayed to the one above
For his guidance and his love.
Oh GOD ! We are your children, why do we suffer so?
My sister and I have done nothing wrong.
This is not where we belong.
Mom told us that you watch over all your children
And all we see is poverty and misery.
The older children know how to survive
But we are younger, and we’ll continue to try.
I saw a church just the other day
Which isn’t too far away.
Children playing and having fun
In the sprinklers and away from the sun.
Why can’t we be there?
Maybe some of the toys with us they could share.
This is my prayer for my sister and I
On these streets we do not want to die.
Their prayer had been answered on the same day
When a preacher who had been passing by that way.
He took them in and Fed them, cleansed them
and gave them clothes to wear
And with the other children some toys to share
The brother and sister went to the church
And got down on their knees , and thanked
Their mother who had given them hope
When there was none to be found.
And for telling them that GOD is always near
And listens to every word and every prayer.
HOPE IS THE KEY IF YOU WANT TO BE FREE.
Forget Me Not and the Silver Prince
They loved to run and play
In the cold of winter time
This chilly snowy day
With mittens in a shade of red
And boots to match the same
They followed footprints in the snow
This was their favorite game
Running to the forest edge
They looked so deep inside
When footprints that they found instead
Had seemed to run and hide
For hours they still played this game
No heed they paid the cold
Forget Me Not began to cry
The Silver Prince so bold
Said, “Why now cry my little friend
In tears that come to freeze
A’ shimmering your bright red cheeks
As we gaze on the trees”
Forget Me Not then answered him
While shivering where she stood
“The trees,” she said. “They are all dead
No leaves do hold their wood”
The Silver Prince began to laugh
As snowflakes sat his eyes
To chuckle at the words she said
As snow fell from the skies
“My tiny friend, oh precious one
These trees are but asleep
If you would listen closely now
Their snores shall quell your weep”
Forget Me Not then listened
For in the forest roared
A gust of wind so chilling cold
Alas the trees had snored
“For it is every winter”
The Silver Prince did speak
“The trees they fall to slumbering
As through the cold they sleep”
She smiled like the sunrise
Beneath her golden hair
For this one fact that he had told
She sure was not aware
Returning to the castle
He took her by the hand
And whispered something in her ear
That she did understand
He told her that he loved her
And if she followed true
He’d teach her all she needs to know
Of everything he knew
From that day forth they wandered
She learned from all he said
But one thing true he whispered
Kept flowing through her head
Her heart was filled with laughter
Her eyes they shone so bright
Each day that they would run and play
Within the warm sunlight
When spring it now descended
New leaves upon the trees
Fresh flowers in the garden grew
A soft inviting breeze
For at this time she noticed
His words were not a lark
For every tree turned green again
Within their favorite park
And on this day she whispered
To him these words so true
The Silver Prince he smiled
She said, I love you too
9/11 Wasn't Heaven. Take it from one who was there.
Corpses, body parts, impaled bodies were most of what I saw there.
9/11 Wasn't Heaven but not because of the horror I saw.
On 9/11 I learned to hate. I never felt hatred before.
We were all instructed to bring to a certain section anything that may contain DNA.
A hair brush, make up kit, anything that may identify the forever lost in this grave.
I spent most of my time on what was known as "The bucket brigade,"
an assembly line of us passing buckets of debris with hope of saving they who were buried.
Every now and then something caught my eye.
New visions of horror never thought could be seen by I.
Someone with a heavy push broom pushing debris
and then that someone stops suddenly
and picks up what appears to me
a piece of carpet very carefully.
After my closer inspection however of checking the carpet out
I then came to realize, it wasn't a piece of carpet. What it was was someones scalp.
The buckets kept coming, never stopping, never ending
but still out of the corner of my eye kept drawing my attention.
Like a zombie I broke away from the bucket brigade
I think I was beginning to feel afraid
of what it would be
that was drawing me
and coming with every step much closer to me.
I bent over and picked up a mangled Barbi doll.
"Are you going to come across the corpse of a child?
This doll may have some DNA
of some poor child lost in all this decay."
With those thoughts I made an about face
and made a B line to the DNA place,
I deposited the doll
and then ran off like a frightened child.
I Had To Get Out Of This Place!
I no sooner got home
when guilt hit me like a thrown stone.
While showering all of the days grime off of me
I broke down in the shower and cried like a baby hysterically.
"How could you be such a coward? How could you run off on all of them?
How could you abandon all of they who aren't dead and still living?
How could you be such a coward? How could you run and hide?"
I've learned since then that I wasn't a coward. I was traumatized,
but sadly to this day
the only way
I live with myself for running away
is because it wouldn't have mattered anyway.
My presence wouldn't have made a difference. No One Survived.
Once upon a time
In the imagination of a child,
Was a very lonely pirate
Who never, ever smiled.
The pirate had no friends at all,
He'd been mean and gruff and bad,
Now he was quite alone
And this made our pirate sad.
Everyday he'd search the land,
Not for jewels or gems,
What this pirate wanted most
Was to have a friend.
Each day he'd sail to islands,
Drop his anchor in the sea,
Go ashore with his telescope
And go on his hunting spree.
But no one likes a pirate,
People would run and hide,
They all thought he was scary,
"I just want a friend." he cried.
Meanwhile on an island,
Deep inside a cave,
Lived a beautiful Princess
Who'd been washed up by a wave.
A storm had hit her parents ship,
It had sunk into the sea.
The only one who had been saved,
Was Princess Poppy.
"I miss my King and Queen." she said,
"I really want a friend."
But the island was quite deserted,
She'd searched from end to end.
One day our pirate spotted
An isle he'd not seen before.
He dropped his heavy anchor
And waded onto shore.
He began his search with his telescope,
Saw birds amongst the trees,
Then he heard the sweetest sound
That floated on the breeze.
The pirate followed the lovely tune,
Found the cave and shouted in.
"Hello, hello." his voice echoed
It really made a din.
The Princess was very frightened,
Stopped singing right away.
She crouched down behind a rock,
Till she heard the pirate say.
"I'm only looking for a friend,
I promise I'm not bad.
I'm just all alone with no one
And this makes me feel quite sad."
The Princess came out from hiding,
"I am lonely too
I haven't any friends at all
And this makes me feel quite blue."
The pirate looked at Princess Poppy,
"We could be friends, you and me.
You can come aboard my ship
And we can sail across the sea."
Princess Poppy smiled
And took the pirates hand,
"I think" she said "I'd like that."
And they danced about the sand.
Princess Poppy loves the pirate,
They sail the ocean blue.
She sings him lovely songs all day,
They have a friendship that is true.
The pirate is never lonely,
He really did find gold,
Having a friend like Princess Poppy
Is the best feeling in the world.
4th February 2017
*After my last post I thought it would be nice to lighten up a bit with some warm, happy (well, not so happy for Elmer) pest poetry. Who doesn't love bug humor? This one actually won first place in a Deb Guzzi contest back in the day.
"And so this court finds you, Elmer T. Roach XXIII, guilty of the crime of pushing your fellow bug off the edge of the pan and into the hot oil below, thereby ensuring that he would be fried to a crisp whilst you nibbled, alone, on what was left behind. For said crime you are hereby sentenced to death. You will hang by the neck, er, that is to say, you will hang by the antennae until you are dead, dead, DEAD! Do you have anything to say for yourself, sir?
"Yes, your Honor, if it pleases the court. When in the course of insect affairs, one often finds oneself in a situation where difficult choices must be made. To eat or not to eat. To run and hide in a crack, or to stand one's ground. Indeed, to live or to die. Your Honor, let's forget for a moment that I have two hundred twenty-one mouths to feed, with one on the way. Let us ignore the fact that a father must keep up his strength in order to ably support such ones. Must I remind this court that we all live by the law of the kitchen, that it's each bug for himself.
And so Your Honor, there I was, placed in a most difficult predicament. With only enough droppings to feed one bug and not two I made the decision to push him over the rim. Yes, I freely and of my own volition make confession to this hideous, yet necessary crime. However, let no man, er, bug judge me. Let he who is without malice, she who is without greed, they that are without the constant, ever present pangs of hunger cast the first stone.
I am free. I am freeeee...."
"And so it was that justice was executed in behalf of the state of Bugdom. Elmer T. Roach the XXIII hung by his antennae until he breathed his last. Alas, he professed to be of no particular faith. Nevertheless, a mass of Christian burial, presided over by the Very Reverend Heathcliff J. Bug LVI, was arranged for him by his dear widow, now heavy with nymph. It has been reported that the hymn chosen for the memorial was, Go Rest High Upon That Cupboard. Further announcements to follow.
Virtual trophies (wife for I)...
offered, husbanded, and collected
when winning solitaire
Nothing beats that exaltant rush of adrenaline
watching the computer generated cards
automatically routed
to their respective suite (spot)
(after they get turned face value up)
generates countenance to evince a grin.
This heart felt diamond in the rough
gamboling ace of a man
learned to call a spade a spade
soon after joining the culture club.
Within an alternate universe
another Matthew Scott Harris
destiny manifested beckoned uber lyft,
his militant doppelganger
(created entirely of antimatter
since birth of universe)
decked out in camouflage fatigues,
dead set on collision course
to annihilate each other
if and/or when we inevitably meet.
No place exists for yours truly
to run and hide
especially hermetically sealing
(while waxing poetic) himself
with booking selfsame mortal
within a read (reed) out hideaway,
hence impossible mission
to ward off sealed fate
lest (markedly) both of us
(even if reaching out
to bridge reconciliation)
blown to smithereens
methinks I and mine nemesis
would be wiped out
(cue the Surfaris song titled wipe out)
as if Thanos snapped.
The aforementioned scenario
far more horrifying than
livingsocial within human zoo
where *****sapiens primates,
an aggregate of many
a cruel genealogical yahoo
outliers rowdy unlearned without xue,
an essential constituent
of the body electric kool aid acid test
smartass who spout colorful retorts
analogous to up the wazoo,
but much more explicit,
therefore audiological
viewer discretion advised
unless one feels confident
to cast a magic spell using voodoo
ideally invoking debilitating, horrifying,
lustrating newt trill eye zing
permanent state of danger
or threat accursed
trumpeting lout can never undo
especially when joker is wild
whereat apparatus tricked out
fastening pollexes courtesy thumbscrews
perchance re-evaluating my person
when crafting image
conveying torturous schlock
after ye did pleasantly review
other writings of mine that did skews
toward humanitarian connectedness
painstakingly minding my peas and queues
wracking my brain
regarding creativity to peruse.