Long Unaccounted Poems
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Looking through old photo boxes
I happen to trip upon
High School memories of my Mother
Resound off the walls, faded edges
Finger printed memoirs sigh between the creases
Of the emerald green sofa
Laughing, fashionable, full of vitality
Mother to me, was
A friend, a mentor, a lover, to somebody else
Seeing how she had a life, before this family
I felt the pregnant tears start to fall
Each weighing about 6 pounds or so
8 ounces, ten fingers, ten toes
Perfect forms of some sort of therapeutic
Amends for a mistake made years ago
Taking a solitary race down my face
But I never cry
I get this kind of strength from my Mom
How is it that I don’t even know who you are?
Standing in front of the sink
Washing crusty dishes and wiping off crude recollections
On windows, what is really behind,
Those beautiful slanted eyes
I see in those photos?
The All American Dreamer
A photographer
Capturing moments in a single shot
Of insight, imagining her
Tiny frame spending hours in the developing room
Crimson passion running, igniting, illuminating her face
Dripping, re-dipping negatives, cutting and pasting
To make the world just a bit more beautiful
A touch more understanding
An image to make us human
How could she sacrifice everything?
For a bundle now grown and barely appreciating
Her surrender of a perfect dream, such ambition
Why did she accept being pregnant at 18 years old
With a wide open road and an never ending horizon
Car packed, engine on blasting her favorite Madonna song
Instead she turned around and walked toward
Home, with a baby in her stomach, returning her rose colored aviator glasses
For reality tinted ones
Sacrificing one life for another
She turned around to
Work a 9 to 5 job on minimum wage,
She turned around to
come home to
Such an ungrateful child
Mother, Unaccounted for, beautiful soul
Stuns me with radiance, such sweet
Abandon, selflessness,
I want to grow up to be just like her
~The Ever Lasting Love Of A Child~
You live and still living through thee only love that can last a
whole life time between us,that same love we knew yesterday
when we were born remains with us today, tomorrow, and after
tomorrow.
A love so deep that only you our mother can feel it,as it
Is an unconditional love that has no end,your giving,your
love that knows no boundaries,Its real we feel it in our depth
daily when you are not surrounding us,Its for good,Its not an
illusion mom,because Its pure.
A love which transforms our shadows to experience the
need to stay alive,your existence in our lives will never
fade away,our respect,our missing you allows our tears
to leave traces on our cushions during the night.
That instant love of the moment when we were born Is an
everlasting love,we feel it,our loneliness vanishes,memories
do not seem far away,that reality will always remain in
process of becoming even when aging.
A love without pain this is what you made us feel,a love that
cries out loud even be heard with the rumbling of thunder.
That same love can be felt between electric wires,our phoning
you everyday,its so full of truth so beautiful it feels like
a spiritual love, our beloved mom.
Seconds never pass unaccounted for,you even wipe away
our clouded eyes,that kind of love mom can even predict
our happiness no matter what the outcome of our
coming years would bring.
That same love has so much emotions it illuminates our souls,
its untouchable,immeasurable,unforgettable,it is a reason
for our existence,your love cures our pain even when
too much time has passed away.
Mom, we both your sons will love you,forever an everlasting love.
Sorry Mum we couldn't be with you in person, but our heart
cries out for you, Happy Mothers Day. Your Sons.
Contest for PD. Happy Mothers Day
13/5/2013 (Win No. 8)
I was only sixteen for a moment
Then seventeen for a second
Who would have thought I couldn’t hold it
The kid who could do it all
Who would have thought he would grow up and fall down
He never guessed that those speeding years would be the best
And remembered in tumbling tears
The old familiar faces are no longer around
So now I’m leaving on a journey
Burning through the night
Leaving some bloodstains to frame out the scars
That’ll jar our memories and blind the true life dreams
Now I’m feigning
Killing myself by dreaming
I’m scheming on redeeming my former state
This time I won’t abate
It’ll be straight over the broken glass
Another unspoken forsaken heart that I’m concentrated on breaking
Baby hip hop pop the top
Ignition as result of the drop
Stop think and listen
Silence listen
Quiet please another tragic vision
Lets mop up this which glistens
I was christened as pure
Raised as evil
Lets seesaw
Lets silence your broken call
Appall them all
Why walk when I can’t crawl
The perfect fix in a simple magic trick
So damn smooth
Splendidly slick
Now for the trick
Two simple props key to male my heart stop
Just a boy and a mirror
And all his fear of what times brung
I’ll fix what I can’t admit
Lets silence the dreamer inside
Not to lie so if you would say goodbye
Time to live or die
Three times thrice this won’t happen twice
I’ll look in the mirror see what I saw
Take the saw edges serrated
Time to cut out the heart that never made it
Don’t you dare try to save it
I’ll brave it out
Just whisper
I can whisper like a shout
I’m insurmountable
My dreams are unaccounted for
Living life as a whore
I’ll give and give
Please won’t you take and take
I’ll drown in my personal fire water lake
Condemn me for being real
Would you rather me be fake
Another choice for you to make
Form:
I am a poet, an artist, a writer
A lover of humanity
This poem I write is about the Grenfell tower story.
Kensington,Kensington
What have you done
Blood stains and tears are scrolled upon your veins.
For a dollar , a pound or two
You brought plastic instead of foam
You thought their would never burn.
Kensington,Kensington
Hypocrites and thieves
You brought these souls to their knees.
Twenty seven storeys
One hundred and twenty flats
Six hundred souls were all entrapped.
Kensington,Kensington
While you were sleeping
These souls were heating.
Higher and higher the flames kept on rising
Hotter and hotter their became
Calling out all in vain.
God how I wished it had rain
Kensington,Kensington
Look at your streets.
These souls you see is because of your greed
Kensington,Kensington
Stop your lies.
It's time you open your eyes
These crimes of yours is what you have reap
There are souls unaccounted for on Latimer street.
Numbers are increasing, mothers are still weeping
Kensington, Kensington you need to restore
Crowds are escalating.
Questions asked , answers concealed
Kensington, Kensington I fear
Your unanswered questions
May provoked a political war.
Five million why not a billion
You spend this much on nuclear wars
Kensington, Kensington the public needs answers.
Families are in despair
There cannot be repaired
Kensington,Kensington you need to start reconstructing.
These souls are everywhere
Mourning and anguish
Anger and fear won't disappear.
Kensington,Kensington the dead is knocking
Their ashes are spread everywhere
Soon their will be demanding.
False promises slow response
Will only awake the sleeping
Kensington,Kensington the dead needs to be resting.
I see my country is in terror
To much political makes our leaders fearsome
Foreseen the future is black
They plan to make a worst exit
For almost three years in office
No big projects has not displayed as accomplishment
The country's whole year budget is almost release
The political election is near but faint suspicion
Worst malady, the gold reserve have been sell abroad
The billions gain has nowhere to be transparent
More loans abroad has been found, no accountability
Transfer of funds from health surplus is diverted
To projects that has already funded to doubly funded
The Supreme Court has found more anomalous acts
As filed cases was serve to the leaders in sitting
More money matters comes in the open unaccounted
Where the purpose not meet but ends is doubtfully willed
People are in quandary of what will the end result to all of this
Dollar rate is stable at fifty eight or more than expected
The economy is quite alarming, more are unemployed
Every department of government has issue of corruption
Mainstream medias are not giving the good information
My people rely on New Social Media which are now in quandary also
Because of the freedom on voices my leaders are irritable
My leader is now onion skin, easily react not in a good way
The issue of not going to drug test is illusive, not acceptable
My people is suspecting my leader's questionable leadership
Making him the puppet of someone else's political ambition
The question remains uncertain of where my country is going
Is it to battle China or favor to someone else's allegiance
When will my nation have a true leader to lead this country
Into a First World Country and make Filipinos proud
Or when will our politicians ends their preposterousness.
Adorning the walls at Brigham and Women's
Head on his hand quite comfortably resting
The subject distinctive in his smiling position
Inspires the asking who is this physician
Over his shoulder an old time sea captain
And over the other what looks like the Kremlin
A scene that recalls something seemingly Russian
What is its significance in this bastion of medicine
And so the commencement of careful researching
Reveals the story of which we'll be learning
A Harvard professor with numerous contributions
To the field of anesthesia including ischemia-reperfusion
This skillful practitioner of inducing unconsciousness
Was born in the Soviet Union in Nineteen and Thirty-Six
The whitebearded mariner is his belov'd Granddad
Who perished unaccounted for in the blockade of Leningrad
When Simon was young he was frequently hungry
Simochka said Mamma for food do not ask me
Life as a Jew in the society of Stalin
Was hard but instructive for the mensch now ascending
At that time in Russia was no concept of charity
Because the state cared for everyone and no one was needy
But the pogroms and politics couldn't kill his generosity
And as soon as they could his wife and he left their country
Emigration to Israel where he learned to be Jewish
In the sense of the word that's proclaimed and not whispered
And he saw for the first time a community helping
And he knew gum zu l'tovah was how he'd be living
And many years later ensconced at the Brigham
The giver, the teacher, the lover of freedom
Fortunate I who discovered his portrait
And learned the legacy of the man
The city above us reaches higher and higher
tipped at the top in all its glory with
iconic, prickly, spires,
as long as air rights permit it.
Build, tear down, rebuild, as the wheels below spin round
in sync with the people who dream,
and the unbridled greed.
Sidewalks, though, remain the same,
i.e., concrete
-people come here to compete,
and they prefer the ground
static, unforgiving and mundane
-the cracks house stunted plants,
squat down low, you might see
ants- too.
People are ants when you are on the 100th floor,
and disappear if you go high enough, or if you forget them.
Back on the ground you
might notice concrete, light grey,
doesn’t hide dirt well, but people barely care
-would you continually step
on a light-colored shirt?
and furthermore, is a visual foil to a
galaxy of flattened gum wads,
jet black- gum wads that remind me of opaque black holes
up above the sky.
There are innumerable pebbles too,
studding the walkways largely unaccounted for
by the naked eye. We grid our concrete like
we grid the city -the geometric dividing lines
are narrow spaces like mini streets
-if we are Godzillas, then OCD Godzillas
avoid these streets, but if trying to catch
a bus, that all goes out the window.
Concrete’s biggest foe may be jackhammers
-shuddering in their presence, succumbing
to brute, deafening force -a staccato berating
beat, like an amplified version of the concrete
pounding of feet, of people and pets,
or an even more amplified version of the
gentle tapping of grounded pigeons.
Today, we pause to honor those who've given their full measure,
Heroes all, upholding the flag and the liberties we all treasure.
Gallant "Peacemakers" who have borne the battle's strife,
Sacrificing all that we may maintain the American way of life!
Rows of simple marble stones are etched with a hero's name.
Some graven, "Known But To God Alone" await His acclaim.
Alas, others unaccounted for lie in lonely unmarked graves,
Others on hallowed battlefields or beneath the billowing waves!
The clarion notes of "Taps" will echo throughout the land today.
Tiny flags will flutter to honor valiant warriors where they lay.
A grateful nation honors them for all that they have done,
And for their dedication to this nation and for laurels won!
Heroic men and women have fought and died on alien shores,
Offering a message of hope and freedom, striving to end all wars.
Their firm resolve has ever broken tyranny's binding chain.
America remains a beacon of hope, proof that they didn't die in vain!
As we remember those who sacrificed their lives for freedom's cause,
And as we stroll about hallowed ground, may we ponder and pause:
"Would we still enjoy the liberties that we cherish in this great land,
Had not generations of brave patriots taken a courageous stand?"
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
Looking into her pair of rainy global eyes,
With mine depicting a pool of mist;
an impending storm.
My arm made an involuntary stretch
to her always warm flank so tender.
She shoved it away.
My eyes stuck on her smooth flawless face,
The one I used to carress,
Those days begone,
I thought my apology was belated.
I could say no more, nay cry.
I had poured out my heart,
sprinkled her with sweetened vowels,
with an icing of truth,
My word bank ran dry,
My convincing smiles were puppet tricks,
My voice intonations were toxic mimics,
She was reluctant to move a cheek,
She was reluctant to move her feet,
At last that was a sign.
She stared at me with a smile,
That legendary smile so preserved,
the kind kind of smile only I earned.
Those days when our passion was a kiln;
A furnace of love driven lust;
What a concorsion!
Memories reeled like a clip,
In my mind, jealous-worthy cuddles,
In a moment of unaccounted for shock,
I was taken in her arms,
those tender fingers that pampered my skin.
That simple warmth that made me sweat,
That warm breathe that raced mine,
That heartbeat that fired up mine,
That husky voice that held hostage my soul and
mind,
That soft touch that erased all doubt.
I forgive you.
A warm kiss on her lips,
was the gratitude I could afford,
And yes,
She kissed me again.
Pro-Xi the Showman
has a jolly roger soul
With a corncrack pipe and a Vuitton clothes
and two eyes made from Sheol
Pro-XiPing the showman is a hairy fail they say
He was made of nose but the children
know how he came to sniff away
There must have been much traffick in that
old silk road to town
But when they placed it on his head
he began to dance around
O
Pro-Xi the owned man
was contrived as he could be
And the children say he could laugh
at the way he plays games with you and me
Trumpetty trump trump
trumpety trump trump
Look at ProXi's go
Chompetty chomp chomp
chompety chomp chomp
Over the hills of blow
(Pac Man) lol
...
Hypocrisy the deal-man does alot of shady things,
tried to mandate information ministry
and vaccine slavery.
...
'Stocracy the Blowman had a ton of alot of blow.
He laughed all day at his evil ways
North of slavin peep ole.
...
Sleazy the Biz-man, owed
'Stocracy some funds, he made tweedle
dee dum dum dum dum receive pay to play kind of
scheme
O Invasionry the program is a Communistic
plan to end the Native Land of Nativity Scene
and eclipse Country Sovereignty
...
...treason, stay of justices execution
Prosti the Pentagon unaccounted 2 trillion...
....
Apostasy the Pope man is a very anti-C...
and water down Christianity
O Jeffrey...