Today has promise on top of the sadness
it feels like grief is a blanket, that I try to throw
off each day so that I can access happiness or joy
yet, it still covers me, sometimes oppressively
the weight of it is heavier than my weighted blanket
that I chose, this one I did not choose
but grief also has stretched me and made me grow
in ways I did not want to grow, there was no choice
involved, it was sprung on me suddenly
but I have grown and changed into someone
strong, compassionate, and less impatient,
but also a lot sadder and in tune to the pain of others
because I wear the pain of grief like a blanket that I can
never take off
Pity, we’re not on their endangered species list;
Just the list of who should be least cared about:-
They fight for red wolves,
but still erode ebon lives;
we’re endangered too:-
What an abomination,
In our nation,
In today’s situation:-
For our lives to matter,
Time for us to gather,
And get it all together:
Pandemic is the Oppressor Syndrome;
We, oppressively murdering our own:-
Let us be aware,
We’ve come too far
To turn back now:
Our immunity is waiting:-
Our ancestors’ labor,
Built this found nation;
This is our home to save
And make it a land of equality,
For others treated like you & me:-
Wake
The ever present enemy
Overbearing and oppressively
Shadowing expectantly
As forethought always secondly
Two minds hang suspended be
Interrupting thoughtlessly
Relentless and attentively
Aressting so effectively
Contented is left restlessly
Thrashed into docility
Numbing the auxiliary
Concerning such complacency
Overwhelming this tranquillity
Resolute in the obscurity
Abstracting absurdity
With Orchestrated entropy
Worn out by pacificity
Sleep
A breathless black bird cannot fly,
Yet, a drowned fish can still float in water;
You can eviscerate its tongue, but you
Cannot unring a rung bell;
But you can knee a black man’s neck,
And he’ll never breathe again;
You may oppressively beat us to the ground,
But we shall rise again;
For we are indeed,
The children of blood and thunder
And we shall not stay down:-
No, a breathless black bird cannot fly,
Yes, a drowned fish can still float in water;
Though the pandemic road ahead
May be rough and rugged,
We’re well equipped with bulldozer souls;
Like butterflies, we may be cocooned in metamorphosis,
Yet, we shall soar with eyes on the prize;
We’re like the circadian moon—waning—
But always waxing back to fulfillment;
Like the sun going to its evening horizon settings,
We too, shall continue to rise again and again:-
nubilous clouds
oppressively overcast
a gray moody sky
Once a nation
Supremely white as driven snow,
Singularly Christian, white and male,
Purely untarnished, and aglow,
Grandeur unparalleled in fairytale.
Hence a grievance
Punitively bold as bloody hellfire,
Potently prosecuted in seats of power,
Oppressively waged against objects of ire,
Prisms of nonwhites seeking justice in the hour.
Now a leader
Colossally void as sterilized weaponry,
Glibly sanctions white phobia and rage,
Lethally enflames this proto-fascist fancy,
As corporations provide aid to the rampage.
Thus a faction
Devoutly for leader, they stand down,
Steadfastly ready for the order to kill,
All woke-ish elitists, and enemies black and brown,
That white men reclaim their rightful place at the till.
Violence of mind
Shocks no one in America,
Where thugs are part of romantic lore.
With our ascendant authoritarian replica,
Are we ready for what washes ashore?
Published in Dissident Voice: 01/09/22
Dark November comes
a wind blows steadily along
hours are spent in silent rooms
watching shadows crawl
scamper across rotting floors
time is frozen nothing moves
clouds hang upon the moon
oppressively like floating gray nations
full of ice dark as November comes along
a train driven forever as echoes across
a vacant feeling behind closed eyes
a dark November is here
cold alone distant with frost
watching the ghost
seeing shadows run play crisscross
pantheons of unknown design
feeling the wind blowing steadily
drifting in rooms were an echoe dies
lost drifting alone in dark November
rains comes to pass
wind blows steadily in distance halls
hours are spent in silent rooms
watching shadows crawl
scamper across rotting floors
time is frozen nothing moves
as clouds hang upon the moon
Longing for the days gone by
When cares were soon forgotten
Which now linger oppressively
Odorous, like fruit turned rotten.
Carefree were those bygone days
Random notions came and went
Imagination rambling like crazes
I was not afraid to experiment.
Days passed swiftly into years
Encumbrances kept piling atop
My eyes often filled up with tears
Memories became my only sop.
Now, time has come with aging
I remember those by-gone days
My mind will often go foraging
Now I have grown set in my ways.
written June 29, 2021
You can see spiders everywhere in China
relentlessly working always with net-knitting
For hunting food for themselves by killing
The most equal pursuing spiders they are
Sharing mutual glorious dream of well-being
No difference is allowed with surviving
Powerful enough for some dream care
Their skills are rather oppressively applying
For either fighting foes or self-esteem
Gripped with various sounds of silence...
How can my counselor’s heart
and social worker’s mind escape being affected?
Disturbing and confusing
Eerie sounds of silence I discern
Aftermath a lover’s quarrel…
Then there’s the oppressively afflicted
Hurting silence-sounds I loathe to entertain
Followed by vexing sobs of attention-seeking teenagers…
Never could I ignore the agitated and restless
Enthusiastic yet silenced sounds from special children
Persevering to behave but cannot control themselves…
With this exposure, I always aim for soothing silence…
Reverberating sounds of hope and faith, serenely blissful
Vanquishing skepticism mockery that echoes doubt-shouts…
Midst my communion with the Sovereign
Who listens to me, understanding my heart… just as I am.
*Habakkuk 2:20 But the LORD is in his holy temple: let all the earth keep silence before him.
August 3, 2019
1st place, "STRAND CHOICE 7, any form, any theme" Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Brian Strand; judged on 1/27/2020.
Back when you had authority
fact is you behaved horribly
I was your only priority
actions stressed unsightly
lashing out as you'd fight me
infatuated obsessively
forcing oppressively
harp so all think less of me
smackdown unimpressively
as you fail when addressing me
acting predictably
thinking sickly
everyday blatantly
bait and detectably
you were really detesting me
couldn't get the best of me
but that's just how you be,
I'm glad that isn't me.
I react there's your smile to see
your nasty vile mind set free
just out to cause misery,
I'm glad that isn't me.
impacting repeatedly
no slack til defeating me
an all out beating spree,
I'm glad that isn't me.
I saw your true personality
all out insanity
the narcissistic reality,
ecstatic that isn't me.
Yes you come across as an evil person,
that personality of yours couldn't worsen,
but I'll stop putting you down with curse,
it's evident that your brain has burst.
Though you come across horribly,
I'll conclude my thoughts logically,
It's clear you behave like a moron
because you're brain cells are all gone.
Grenfell tower
ruptures the horizon,
London's skyline is scarred
like a blackened diplodocus
or a charred monument
for a laconic London bridge
still burning
But look,
linen wraps its iron-bones
mumifying the city's underclass-
an icon for future generations
oppressively,
grief hauls a heavy granite cross
as sharp rocks splinter shins
then whips wheeze
winnowing breath
ascending a modern Golgotha,
who unleashed this hydra 's fury
whose black breath incinerates
the once laughter of our kindred?
As family once sung at Christmas,
they now hear
the endless screech of sirens,
the contagious roar of conflagration.
Is London another Guernica?
trodden by apocalyptic steads
with mothers cradling dead infants,
rocking their limp limbs
in a deep dirge to red-fired skies,
furnaced by council fascists
as politically the city is fractured.
An emerging phoenix will sprout,
magenta winged against black,
from this burning pyre, a reincarnation.
a rebranded London is reborn
perused by the London Eye
ever vigilant but now blindfolded
observing justice for the unheard
and voiceless minority
as a terrible beauty is spawned
Silence
oppressively descends
in dead depressing despair
And, impressively ascends
in tingling anticipation,
pregnant with delighting participation
Ecstasy itching with silent invitation
bicameral co-passioning revolution
Optimally resilient night through day,
day in night voices,
night to day listening
in tingling resonant silence,
music,
dance,
motion,
emotion,
intention.
First of September
It is oppressively hot it as summer
refuses to leave the stage and is overacting badly,
to be a walk-on actor or a decoration in play
about summer, it is jarring.
We applaud, but we are tired of the monologue now
It is a time for the lesser actors
charted chains
slaved remaind
oppressively
re-gained
staind
love
my
eyed
rolling
marbled
on
the
floor
green
greenhouse eyes
effect on breath
taking all mine
am i blind
myself
had to
know
look at me now
broken heart
on
a
plane
charted chains
?
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