Long Took a wrong turn Poems
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How it feels when love took a wrong turn
Like spice was turned up high and burned
Like you were promised a piece of pie
But instead got a plate full of worms
Feelings that fill your head with heartburn
Worse than what happens eating the wrong food
Knowing it taste so good but is bad for you
Same thing applies to a toxic lover who
Shattered heart you are apart
but still feel connected to
Heart farts that try to save face
Despite being full of black tears
Holding on to memories of good days
Despite the dingy dungeon bad years
Forgiving loving love despite not receiving
Losing yourself in someone else
Especially one so cunning and deceiving
Finding one single sunny spot in it all
Knowing now not to look down
For life is forward thinking stand tall
Knowing that this may have went bad
But to love someone is always good
You are one person closer to happiness that
Will be warm and charmed as blessings should
Said Hank to his pard, "I reckon we took a wrong turn back yonder!
How we ended up in this here gawd awful place I'll ferever ponder."
"Ya shoulda listened to me when we come to that Y in the trail,
But, no, you insisted we go left an' here we are!" he went on to rail!
"We ain't got a lick uv water an' I don't see none in them hogbacks.
We ain't met a livin' soul 'cept some prairie dogs an' diamondbacks!"
"Ho! Is them Injuns I hear comin' over that ridge back thar a-hollerin'?
This is jes' another fine skillet uv feesh ya have managed to git us in!"
"Buck up ol' pard" said Tex to his pal. "I'm sure they is friendly types,
Wantin' to parley fer some coffee, sugar an' terbaccy fer thar pipes!"
"But I reckon we shouldn't take chances an' if'n yer willin' ol' pard,
Me an' my hoss is leapin' off'n this cliff tho' the landin' be mighty hard!"
They took the plunge diggin' deep furrows with their noses in the ground!
Accordin' to lore this is how Black Hills gold in the Badlands was found!
Entry fer Isaiah Zerbst's "Cowboys In The Badlands" Contest
He caught his bus to Barnsley
Thinking he’d be there soon
But the driver took a wrong turn
And they landed on the moon
Where the King of the Selenes
A most delightful host
Served them Lunar Honey
On hot buttered toast
And a string quartet played
Until half past three
When the Lady Queen
Served her special lemon tea
Then they all stood chatting
As the driver turned his bus around
And at the very first attempt
Got it straight off the ground
Back down in Barnsley
He couldn’t for his life
Think of an excuse
To tell his waiting wife
So he told the truth
Which cost him a clout
As she whacked his head
On her angry way out
If there’s a moral to this story
It’s no matter how he tries
If the world don’t like the truth
They’ll insist a fellow’s telling lies
What a weekend I’ve just had
There I was, gaily skipping along
When I got lured down an unknown
path
by the sound of my own voice
I followed, to explore new terrain
Soon got lost in my new found joy
I must have ventured out too far
Or took a wrong turn somewhere
that led me to cross paths with some unexpected
although familiar faces
A few deranged demons that I had ghosted in the past,
decided to confront me
They did find me too long in the tooth
to have my neck nudged into a noose
So they chose instead to drag me
right back to the fiery pits of hell
My old stomping ground as it were
Ushered me in with a rather special
welcome treat
blatant intimidation and pure disdain
My voice had landed me in a hornet’s nest!
All of a sudden having a personal voice,
lost all of its glamour and appeal,
seemed way too risky and a tad overrated
I surrendered to silence right away
and it quickly sprung me out of there
luckily I landed right back at home
It’s a shame I couldn’t stay long enough in hell
to fully enjoy its hospitality
Now that I'm back in my safe space,
I savour each and every glorious gift
brought by that little detour I took
In a way, I’m glad I took that route
It proved to be a great wake up call
that I didn’t even know I needed.
Form:
WAY TO PERFECTION
Do I need more than two legs
So I can walk a thousand steps in a minute
Do I need more than two arms
So I can stretch them and grab what is a hundred miles away
Do I need more than two wings
So I can fly deep in the sky like an eagle
Do I need more than two eyes
So I can see both present and unpredictable future
Do I need to be gold or diamonds
So I can light the route before I hook and start afresh
Do I need to stronger like a spider
So I can spy tick behind my backyard
Do I need to be a woman
Do I need to be a man
Do I need a bulletproof
Like country soldiers who die in silly wars for careless citizens
Do I need more than two rockets
So I can evacuate rocks in my way
Can I have all I need
Can I acquire such certain speed
Maybe I took a wrong turn
Should I go back to my genesis
So I can rebuild my flaws
And learn how to love them
© John Kazadi
I took up bicycling because I couldn't run
At best it provided scenery and fun.
A sense of achievement cresting the hill
The fun of swooping like an eagle on the kill.
First lesson learned: if you happen to be slow,
Old ladies on recumbents aren’t your ego’s foe.
If you carry a reputation bubble, someone will pierce the skin:
Better to be yourself; it’s not a race to win.
I cycled with a group, into an old town in the West
We left our bikes unlocked, the place seemed safe and blest.
Then the best bike disappeared, a thief had a new ride
We chipped in to buy a new one, as the owner cried.
I took a wrong turn one time, as the group continued on:
I went up a mountain road, by a golden sun.
Something seemed wrong and a feeling of unease grew:
Then the sign at the summit was a final clue.
I learned to stop and check the map; that time is wisely spent.
Why lose a silver dollar when you could lose a cent?
Turning back from sunk costs is sometimes the way to go.
I reached camp by sunset, sore from head to toe.
I told a cousin about cycling, it seemed insane to him
Just turning wheels, till the empty mind goes dim.
I told a cliche of freedom, but the point he couldn't see.
His Ford Mustang could get him faster from point A to point B.
I learned when I was tired, danger flashed code red:
Cutting corners is easy, and easy can mean dead.
A pleasant ride can turn suddenly to pain,
A bright auspicious morning to a night of freezing rain.
A fellow told me of a ride his high school friends once took
They reached the Montauk end, no need for a guidebook
Them took the ferry to New London, let the pedals rip.
Now they're in their sixties, but they still talk about that trip.
There's a shrinking world of places safe to go
Too many cars, too much crime, and ideology overflow.
But for now, it can be a pleasant way to spend some time
The open air, the open road, on your shoulders the sunshine.
Living in an open book,
I am everywhere I look,
I thought I took a wrong turn,
Feeling the fire burn,
I yearn for peace.
Releasing my hold,
Dropping the load,
Eroding into the landscape,
There's no need to escape,
The lesson is taking shape,
I am the paper,
The vapor in the air,
I wrote every word there,
My story to share,
For those out there,
Looking for a reason to care,
Life may not seem fair,
Careful of overreacting,
You may be redacting some content,
Seeking consent,
For how your day went,
Letting another use the pen,
Until you say when,
Rising up again,
Writing your way in,
The firing pin,
Locked in position,
Awaiting the decision,
Primed for the mission,
Exploding with precision,
I am spiritually driven,
I've written this story over and over,
Never crossing over,
The older I get,
The more I see it,
I am perfecting my gift,
A rift within the present,
Choosing different,
Changing each instant,
The end is in the distance,
I see another chance,
Will I return for another dance,
Or play in the expanse,
I love this experience.
Hope y'all are enjoying the chapter your writing.
A while back my soul took a wrong turn
Sometimes I wonder if I had a tough birth,
Did I come out feet first like a blue-faced luge runner?
Banking right, then left onto the icy cuff
launching into a starless pit of nothingness-
Maybe mom's breasts were filled with booze.
Maybe too much old-fashioned strap
for the most minor infractions.
Without love to temper stings
life is just one big muddy slog
void of any spring.
I'm hesitant-simple decisions are difficult.
and that ever-present haze of mistrust
once sparkling relations turning diamonds into dust-
Maybe I snapped when that pissed off farmer.
wrapped a dead snake around my neck-
For freeing his herd of cows-now I'm a bit of a control freak.
Wanting to palm butterflies and honeybees.
Maybe it was the fifth grade "teacher"(you know who you are).
With the strong cologne and loose hands-
That made me into a quicksand man.
Everybody I meet gets sucked into the ooze.
I need to let it all go-clean the mental lint trap.
But these sun crushers, present and past.
Keep arriving in sleek sharky waves.
Bearing loose plastic fingers and black satin drapes-
Headed to a destination far west of my home town, I was a thousand miles from home and a thousand miles yet to go to reach my destination when I took a wrong turn. 100 miles off the path before realizing it, this wrong turn became a very long wrong turn. I met two people while in my 'state of
lostness', each of whom seemed on a different mission. I might add that never have I seen two people with distinct missions so in tune to their purpose. I first came upon a Mr. Indifferent who busied himself hunting deers and fishing for salmons. While fishing, he entertained himself by
watching golf and football replays on his Iphone. I sought his assistance in putting me on the right tract, but he ignored me all together; not a word.
It seemed I was breaking his consentration, and his anoyance of and by
me was clearly visible. He could not have cared less. I quickly moved on, thinking the 'grass was surely greener' around the next bin and up the next hill.
I met Mr. Hate over the hill, but if he was grass, it certainly was not greener than Mr. Indifferent. Mr. Hate was determined to live up to his name, and I was his next target, the receptor of his verbal wrath that had neither rhyme nor reason. It appears that he was instinctively hateful toward any and everything within sight regardless of any connection with himself. Never had I seen eyes and body language more hateful.
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Let the words I speak
Be unto you
Let the one I seek
Be only you
And let my heart beat
Beat for you
And let my soul
Burn for you
Til I'm consumed
Until I'm consumed
.
Won't you take all of me
Until your image in me
is all you see
But You won't take what I won't give
And my sin won't die until You live
Inside of me
I feel I'm hangin by a thread
This old man just isn't dead
I keep reviving him instead of trusting You
.
So Let the words I speak
Be unto you
Let the one I seek
Be only you
And let my heart beat
Beat for you
And let my soul
Burn for you
Til I'm consumed
Until I'm consumed
.
And when my day comes
To an end
And I look back at where I have been
Many roads I've traveled
Sure took a wrong turn now and then
I need You just as much right now, as I did back then
.
So Let the words I speak
Be unto you
Let the one I seek
Be only you
And let my heart beat
Beat for you
And let my soul
Burn for you
Til I'm consumed
Until I'm consumed
.
Let there never be a doubt
That You changed me from the inside out
It was only You all along
I could never be that strong
On my own
.
Let the words I speak
Be unto you
Let the one I seek
Be only you
And let my heart beat
Beat for you
And let my soul
Burn for you
Til I'm consumed
Until I'm consumed
Until everything in me
Looks just like You