Long Teen Poems
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POEM OF THE DAY : 20.10.25
[Poet’s Note : Form : This poem combines Haibun with
Specular Fugue, giving a straightforward descriptive journaling type Haibun more analytical depth, making for a more interesting & informative experience for reader, overlaying description with analytic style. ]
______________________
With intense curiosity five kinky haired
African women watched her. Her hair sleek, her skin caramel,
wearing lilac pyjamas. Nobody instructed her to change into
hospital gear. She did not understand Tswana. They understood
English. Her Cuban surgeon was gentle as a lamb.
Their surgeon was a tough Afrikaner.
Afrikaners were toughened by trekking,
lambs skipping across conquered land.
Tswana was not an easy language to learn.
They starched hospital gear to last longer.
Lilac her favourite colour, opp-arting her caramel skin,
mottled by disease. Her hair from Malaysian and Indian genes,
mixed stew genetics, like all from the human race.
Dark eyes observed her struggle onto high hospital bed,
hip broken, with cartilage in tatters. Noisy Tswana cackles,
like hens on heat, bombarded her smile. She kept it on, an emoji.
Slowly the chicken run morphine disco calmed.
She could not endure morphine chokes or
polite falsehood steady. Hens were her evening friends,
feeding them a favourite chore. Their eggshell membranes
she swallowed for cartilage, her eyes flickering gratitude.
Gratitude is an abc lesson.
It is broken eggshells today.
Teen friends were loyal comrades,
their feedback raw honest. Being polite
strengthens boundaries, sometimes.
Morphine is gold during war.
Cheerily she remarked : “I know you are gossiping about me.”
All five women burst into raucous laughter, forging new friendships.
Friendships forged through pain and laughter.
Some humans learn via gossip.
Be cheerful about others not knowing.
+++
hospital wards full
patients support one another ~
laughter kills the pain
__________———-________________———-
“Jealousy”
Jimmy had odds to beat, one he was a black teen and the temptations of big city’s Streets.
But a single black mother’s determination held his attention sternly,
So he had only Minimal interaction with streets.
He had rickets but Jimmy could catch any ball.
He ran with a gang that like to brawl,
Then he entered a Youth Center where a Mentor introduced him to football.
Pop Warner he’s leader of the team,
Onto High School Football team as runner for TD’s.
Scouts without doubts offered degrees.
Mother’s pleased when he goes to USC, to be toast of the university.
Jimmy rode football like a Hell’s Angel rides his hog.
He played halfback, fullback carrying the ball.
Top backers called, packs of women clawed,
Because for a rental car he ran through a mall.
Sydney was a naive Germany beauty queen,
Blond haired eyes emerald green.
Done nothing much since she jumped with the school cheer team.
But she had dreams, being famous on T.V., a celebrity.
But she’s stalled in the Pokipsy Mall,
Serving chili, hamburgers and hotdogs.
When in comes Jimmy, walking tall, followed by his enthralled.
Each sees the other and head over heels each falls.
Their love, sweet, she felt entitled to be,
With the famous Jimmy.
After their affair they married, two heirs, beach house on Bundy Street,
Her face on T.V. with Jimmy, her dream is complete.
But Jimmy believes in slavery,
Believes possessions are bounty one forever keeps,
And Sydney is his property.
But black eye secrets don’t keep,
So she and her parents agree, divorce Jimmy immediately.
Jimmy falls, fell by divorce when the gavel falls.
But most of all,
He felt affronted by the German goofball in front of media tell-all,
So he watches her like a hawk, to see with whom she walks.
She saw a new fella who won her heart and Sydney falls.
He wines and dines her many times and shows respect to all.
So Jimmy waits, pissed off jealousy he has no date, until one night on her Ronald calls.
Greens seethe engulfs Jimmy from head to feet, it shuts off reasoning.
Disrespect for “The Great ME” is all he sees in this rivalry for his property.
He sees she succeeds with this non-minority.
To the door during their adoring greeting Jealousy creeps,
Like Flash he slash the throat of the one he knows,
Then at speed stabs repeatedly the one she greets,
As he tries to flee from Jealousy.
Deep within the world so modern,
Lies a hidden road not trodden,
That states the obvious truth be told,
Printed in ink black and bold,
That lost in worlds of ecstasy,
Trapped in snares of misery,
That wars the rumors be told they sneered,
Now not alive a bray a’bird,
Gone are thoughts that thinketh straight,
And now to turn back it's O’so late,
Truth is gone, and truths be’come,
Lies run wild thru’ Urb and slum,
Prove me wrong this not happen,
But wrong they are yet shamelessly clappin’,
All so jolly good way they are,
From the Truth they stay afar,
Given in to the delusions be,
These strange worlds move so surreally,
That eats place a first a crown,
And Wannabe’s laze and fuss arroun’,
Talks about this and that and all that’s good,
Ney earn their money and cry for food,
When not given they stage a protest,
What they think is unjust!
But truth be told they sloth all day,
Sit around and laze away,
Their youths burnt dry, so willfully done,
When the brave reproaches them, they rant and away they run,
Sad to see, this is our reality,
Where all but’s none have time for thee,
Where life’s no respect and death appraise,
No wonder! They fit in with Artemis’ ways,
Tis’ are days of Noah’s time,
Filled with false hate and unwanted slime,
The hot is cold and the cold is hot,
They should be left to these ways to rot,
For no amount of reproach or preaching change they,
They want to remain that way,
So, let it be and move on in life,
Find a place to settle, build a home with your wife,
But when they come, O’Brave men of life,
To scandal your family and toss the knife,
Don’t debate them in anyway by words,
Take up your weapon and massacre they featherless birds,
Let them cry foul, whine and weep,
For they are into misery so deep, even the good that they do is evil so steep,
Let it be, let it be and protect your families,
From these so called ‘Justice Warriors of all the Sissies.’
What is well, when men of old just a teen,
Went to war for freedom’s freeing,
No scandal was found heard, no loose talk in the winds,
They wives waited for them, rather than sinned!
But if now one were off, to fight for justice cause,
In their absence does much spend, party’s all that splend.
Not all I say that way be done but are true, true indeed to none,
Tis’ a tragedy with my pen and ink I write and run.
Kim (one of my BFF) brightened with inspiration, “Oooo! Send him a sexy pic!”
“I’m NOT going to sext a guy out of the BLUE,” I grumbled, indignantly.
Kim turned to her phone, “No, No, of COURSE not.” She said as she texted.
“Come on” she said, as she pulled me off my chair and out the door. We raced over, on foot, to my friend Bili’s house (two houses away). We entered without knocking (as usual) and ran upstairs.
Bili lay on her stomach on her unmade bed, fiddling with her phone, ankles up and crossed but she twisted up to attention when we came in.
“What should we do first?” She said, as if there were a million things to do.
They set upon me and had my regular clothes off in a heartbeat. Like all makeovers, this had a prelapsarian purity - the ritual stripping down to blankness before rebuilding.
They quickly went through about half of Bili’s closet - selecting just the right combination of trashy and classy clothes designed to seduce.
They finally settled on a black slip under an ivory peignoir, stockings with garters and black strappy heels.
Kim twisted my hair up into a loose “Gibson Girl.”
“Hold still,” Bili said, as she grasped my chin and expertly blended red, gold and black glittery eyeshadows followed by lip liner and gloss. “This is just a quickie job,” she reminded me.
I stared at this strange version of myself in the vanity.
Kim frowned and looking around, she spread a pink scarf over the desk light to give the room a rosy glow. They went into studio mode - posing me in various ways from coquettish to bored lounging - suggesting expressions and taking endless pictures with my phone.
Finally, they were satisfied and handed me my phone.
“Shall we go through them?” Bili asked
“Naah,” I said, “I’ll go through ‘em and pick one - or two.”
Later, at home, I looked through them - I looked SO different - and I had to admit - sexy even. But was that ME? I cringed, what if my mom saw these trashy, Kardashian-like photos somewhere?
I never sent them. I thought I’d have to explain it to my girls.
“HA!” They laughed, “We KNEW you’d never use ‘em” Bili said, as Kim shook her head “Nope.”
“It was fun though!” We all agreed.
.
.
.
NOTE: This is a pre-pandemic story from August 2019. I was 15 - the idea wasn’t to seduce this guy, it was to get his interest so he would ask me out . =]
{This "Free Verse" entry Received HONORABLE MENTIONS
IN THE Intergenerational Poetry to Bridge the Generation
Contest UNO Elders & Youth track" 2017
UNIVERSITY OF OMAHA
OMAHA, NEBRASKA}
(I was the only male entry in contest)
October 15, 2017
I'm A Teen This is What I Struggle With
I’m a teenager I’m upset depressed
Being so,
I’m A teen this is what I struggle with
And I ain’t gonna call you mam or sir
That’s in the history books nobody does that anymore
I represent 30 percent of us that are one or been bullied
All adults want to do is make us study
I close to being grown you don’t understand
I know as much or more than a woman or man
I’m A teen this is what I struggle with
I am tired of always being diss
I ‘m a teen this is what I struggle with
Feel like I’m imprisoned, these are our teen issues
I have a right it’s my body part selective if I selective
It’s my life if I choose to be sexually active
My life complicated I’m not the only one you used drugs smoke pot now what
Back in your day
Getting drunk the past month I also say
My life, my right again you did that too by the way
I’m A teen this is what I struggle with
I am tired of always being diss
My message is I’m not heard, I’m hurt
I eat the wrongs things I get big obese some of us throw up
You can call it stayin thin being bulimic
Can’t get no education, don’t have patients for them
They can’t teach or tell me nothing gonna drop of school
Maybe I’ll join the Army
Where are the grownups when I have my problems peer pressure?
They don’t have an answer for them
I’m A teen this is what I struggle with
I am tired of always being diss
The sexting, hot man what a body, But when I get older that picture still out there
Don’t have to be beaten up physically now it’s done electronically, on social media
Just when I think I can control my life and mind
On screen violence TV shows, movies and violence video games
Keep me wake for weeks and days
I am tired of always being diss
I’m A teen this is what I struggle with
09/26/17
written by James Edward Lee Sr.
for Intergenerational Poetry To Bridge Generations Elders & Youth 2017 Contest
A woman speaks:
“I will live in a tent, or demand I pay no rent!
My name is Sally, I want everything free!
To God, I never will bend an ungraterul knee!
For my community…..nothing will I ever do!
For the USA, you see, I think so little of you!”
“I will burn every American or Isreali flag I see!
Because everything in the USA belongs to me.
That new, red car you drive, it should be mine.
Anyone else's hard work, I shall never will do!
But all your accomplishments belong all to ne
not to you.”
“I am dying of bright, green jealousy and greed.
I steal anything I possibly can,it is my fervent creed!
I make our government tax you, till you bleed!
For you are my slaves,to fulfill all my selfish needs”
The USA, now a nation that will not work?
Why not we kindly deport these hapless jerks?
The melody I hear is so incredibly tragic,
People refusing to live lives, that are could be magic!
Criminal rioters are now totally honored here?
Teen gangbangers do stand on corners, slurping beer.
Children in Chicago, weekly are with no mercy shot dead.
BLM Marxist marches, rioters destroy, where are their heads?
Alas, the Jews are now not allowed a higher education
But must live as rodents~in fear and open the door in hesitation?
Americans, unite and do so very soon.
Do you applaud the slaughter of infants beneath an October seventh moom!
The new normal of hatred here must end now
I Pray to God, no money to Iran..I vow!
Find people with character who love, not have the joy to kill
October deventh gone,I still hear cries for mercy still!
Tent cities have ruined many delightful towms
fentanyl, thanks to Cartels, have taken many American lives.
While we hide at home,penning pietry that rhymes
Servants of the Gestapo, how dare you shame,
Those of us who believe in the American Dream, lost our flame.
We learned too well …..what happened in Germany,
When people thought that nutcase Hitler was sanity?
I hope you recall all the millions of lives thar were takem!
May God help us, this never occurs again ~ our hearts forsaken!!
4/25/2024
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From the beginning momma been duin it on her own, raising a fast kid like me in a single parent home. 15 years old with her whole life ahead of her, but sperm traveled fast and made a single egg last. Now its me, here by mistake, so I only look at myself as one. Taking her through hell for 15 years , while she gave up all she had in front of her. No prom, no graduation, no happiness, her teenage life thrown away and sacrificed just for me. But all this didn’t have to be. She had a choice: murder me, or give me away and live happily. She kept me out the goodness of her heart, lord knows If she had the chance, she’d give it up for a brand new start. But this is the life of how a small lil teen in a huge giant world grows with guilt inside.
Daddy wasn’t an addict, and daddy wasn’t a jail berg. Daddy isn’t dead, he’s just somewhere being mislead. He’s not with me, so how can he tell me where I need to be.
I grew up like any other kid, without a father. All I had and have to depend on is my mother. She’s not the best, but she’s defiantly far from the rest.
She’s modeling for me, modeling how to be. The best is what she want me to see.
Tough love is rough is love, momma know love. Momma give love, momma take love, but I’m surprised momma still giving love. Its just a matter of time before momma throw in the gloves!
From the headaches, to the heartaches; I couldn’t possibly imagine what hurts worst! She’s smiling on the outside, sorta like me, & crying behind closed doors, praying on her knees: hoping her daughter don’t fall a victim to the streets, and become pregnant just from one lil piece of meat! The whoopings, the spankings, the beatings, the busted heads, and the loud yells are just a sign of tough of love, tryna teach a lesson, while I’m blaming myself when I should really be countin my blessings!
Momma just wanna see me succeed, fulfill the things she wasn’t able to in life, and spend time with her on the things that her momma couldn’t. She wanna see the best in me, & honestly, I’m striving to be all I can.
Bringing home good grades, making goals, achieving goals, and playing my role. They say we can’t please every body and I guess I try too hard, but momma is one person who I wanna impress lord!
Take care of her like she take care of me, that’s after I become all I can be! Cause I want my momma to see . . . . . . . . . I’m GONE make it!!!
I wish love was enough.
I thought it was enough, how stupid could I be?
But what I thought was love is now just a distant memory.
One that got the best of me.
It took away my thoughts, my days, and my nights.
Hell, a lot of the time it even took away my apitite.
I lost focus, sleep, and a good grip on the real world.
I was blinded from everything and protected by nothing.
For a while I was stupid enough to believe the lies my heart had told.
I thought your hugs said it all,
but now that I can recall, your kiss tasted like diaster.
Now that I've tamed my heart, my emotions are no longer my master.
I had always thought we'd be together one day in perfect harmony,
I realize now that all your words were just lies you fed to me.
I thought I was your 'Ride or Die' but now you call me a whore,
I don't even know who you are anymore.
I've been fed lie after lie- I'll call you out on every one, I'm not shy.
So you say you love me, what's your name again?
Why should I believe you, your credbility is a zero out of ten.
Don't act like I should feel sorry for you, because I don't.
If I'm the only thing in your pathetic life going right,
shouldn't you try to keep me happy with all your might?
I used to be blinded by the thought of forever, but now you've opened my eyes
up to see, I don't need you for me to be happy with me.
When we fought and I caved, I'd come back and cry "I'm sorry babe, I love you"
Now that I've finally caught you in your lies, you want to say "I'm sorry baby and I love you too"
I used to be blinded by your role,
but I pray for you now because sometimes wishing isn't enough to save a soul.
What I thought was love got the better part of me.
But now I'm glad that my heart has made me see
You messed up and I hope you know it; no one will ever love you like I thought I did.
Not even your own kid.
Yeah, I know my words hurt, but yours did too.
You lied everytime you said "I love you boo".
At least I'm the one here who has always confessed or told the truth,
I'm so sick of you now I just want to knock out your every single tooth.
I used to be blinded by love,
But now that I'm not, I'm as peaceful as a dove.
I hope these words hurt, and if they do it means I've done my job right.
I'm okay about losing you without a fight.
And to be honest? I'll sleep better from now on at night.
Sometimes
I look at her, and I think,
Could she be anymore perfect?
Though not everyone may agree, but still
I believe that only she could make me happy,
despite all my imperfections and insecurity, and
so for this reason, and many more, I do not care
for what they say, because they can’t understand
the way I feel when she’s holding me, when she
chooses me above all others to be with, as if it’s a
perfectly natural, normal thing, and though she hates
being photographed, she’ll do it for me, and she will
try to scowl but I can always make her smile, and it’s
always worth my while, for now I can paint
her with my words, her beauty a
poem for the world to read
and in my heart,
I know that
I will for
always stay
this way, devoted and
deluded, but if
that’s the life I choose
then why should they stand in
my way? I can feel
just how I like,
and if it all ends
in tears, so what? For
still I will
have had
an amazing time.
(following on figurative heals
sans, l'amour,
i.e.,and that bastard conception
of life, liberty, and the
pursuit by George - Marshall ling, Grant
ting, and Bing Frank.)
Expectant motherhood generates aurorean
sonogram x-ray zooms
bringing developed fetus
healthily shimmering viz,
quasi hologram seen
glowing halo, inducing
jubilant kickstarter lil bean,
administering capitalone
earthlinked joyful lyft,
natural pheromone readying cerulean
tommorrows, venerated ecstacy doth gleam
zinging bounteous
dizzying feelings hormones houseclean
jackanapes leviathon nestling
pinterestinly interocean
reaching terminus vista
xing zee birth canal mien
doctor readies Fallopian tube cutting
helping jiggle little nymphean
possibly ranking...
as future topnotch venerated Olympian
fast forward to joyful loving neuro
logically plain resplendent teen
knee weeny tiny
vaunted expanding zing
baby dripping Vasoline
like goo fully gesticulating
happy jolly newborn.
Which miracle whipped
purely by chance
given reason to the most orthodox
to sing and dance,
sans said singular biological
phenomenon does enhance
freshly minted parents,
or the mommas
and papas genetic
copy wrought grants
who already passed along
to a brood of offspring
gushing with excitement
akin to fire hydrants
spewing forth fountain head
treasuring such Kodak moment,
cuz such instance
and subsequent tender
wonderful blessed
Instamatic reverent cherished instants
will zip at greased lightening
via speeding hurled lance
sing remembrance of things past
during twilight years,
an eye blink those yesterdays,
when my troubles seemed so far away
and upon being centenarian,
doddering fogie gripping hold,
hugging intensely, indubitably decrying
how quickly of
decades long ex pants
didst elapse, when tendering
to a coliciky, finicky,
inscrutably lemony snickety offspring
wishing infant would grow up already,
now onset of autonomy
Das Agean sea sunned
father or mother
hood doth rants
at father time, he doth access
without a word an excel lent
power point demonstration
with near vertical line brevity
of how mortality slants.