There is a story of a boy who
became a man or at least some
thought
A boy who went through his life
never got his emotions caught
So this boy ran
Ran fast as he can
All the way until he became a
man
Ran so fast he name only
lasted moments in the sand
From which he step
Taken every stride like it was
his last breath
Felt he be this way all the way
till his death
This man if many knew him a
coward they would say
For he never had the courage
to stay
Stay for no more than a
moments worth
For he felt his life was as
valuable as his father did of his
birth
Ashamed that his name was
cursed
Since when it's ever mentioned
he hurts
So he runs deep in the jungles
of his own mind
He runs as if there is a
happiest to find
He runs and runs till his feet
soil in the dirt
He runs because staying in one
place only makes him hurt
This boy became a man in such
an unfortunate way
For his kept on running till he
was buried in his grave.
Waiting for the last drop of the sun to be evaporated,
And the last bus of my day to pack me away to…
Home,
My eyelashes fluttered from piles of human to piles of human
Wriggling …
A girl with eyes bended over mobile and spreading pink flushed cheeks.
Had someone just told that she was the last beautiful girl alive in the earth?
A middle-aged man frowning furiously with floating head.
Who stole his happiness?
An octogenarian woman oscillating like an octopus.
How life was draining away from her!
A crooked nose with sunken eyes eyeing me up made me tighten my face.
Did he somewhere in his life dream of an unpolluted soul?
On the other…
A boy busily took his gaze away when mine happened to meet his.
How was he designed to disbelief?
A restless kid pouring the pinks and yellows of the sunrise.
Where is life going to land him?
Oh! Never will I know!
Perhaps the answer will remain untouched forever.
How many unknown faces I meet every day!
Do they even exist when they are not covered by my eyesight?
Is it so mandatory for these piles of human to flood into one quoted part of my life?
And stay just for a while and float away?
Smothered by our secrets
suffocated when we lie
the more we choose to live like this
parts of us will die
with the choices that we make
we all soon forget
the things in life that set us free
and deeper in we get
for that moment in your life
when you have more than what you need
your pulled into the deep end
swimming in your greed
smothered by our memories
suffocated by things we hate
do you have time to change your life
or is the chance too late?
_Tamara Brown_
what wrong have we done to the world?
we are looked being terrors,
how many errors manifested to us:
we are locked narrowed,
how foolishly are we to let go of troubles
and we were watched horrors..
is this how we will survived our life UN-psalms
and dawned our life a tense UN-proud?
after-all, we testified our God of lords..?
fie, unto thee, a mass killers of our time
who turned homes with torment
those who made our sweat a mess...
those who arose, without fathers...
and mischief the world with calamities..
God, I beseech Thou
against the murderers of innocence
those of UN-maternal abode
they, bastards of shame-mess...
O LORD
HELP ME FIGHT UNJUST FOR A JUST
IN YOUR NAME THAT FAMES AND NEVER LET MY DAY LAME WITH ME.
Life isn't fair when other people make it big
But I'm happy where I am,living my life how it is.
Life isn't fair when somebody else rides for free.
Well,some lucky and some aint,that's the way that I see it.
life isn't fair when your wife leaves you for your friend
Well,that's okay,I knew that the marriage was gonna end.
Life isn't fair when your best friend die.
Well,he stole my wife and shot my dog with a nine.
Life isn't fair when burglars break into your house.
Well,that's okay I was going to throw everything out.
Why Oh Why don't you care that the world aint fair?
It's not the world who aint fair or the world who don't care.
It's the people who don't care and the people who aint fair.
Let me introduce myself,
to you and only you.
I have dreams,
but none of them have been told.
I have thoughts,
but none of them have been said.
I have feelings,
but they are trapped away,
under lock and key; were they will stay.
I want more,
out of the life I live.
I want to learn,
and gain the knowledge to be a success.
I want to feel all the emotions,
that life has to give;
hatred, sadness, happiness and love.
I want to be,
hated, mourned, rejoiced, and loved.
I want to be seen,
and be present.
I want not to be unseen,
standing by the sidelines, feeling un-content.
I need to know, what my purpose is.
But who am I to say what I need,
demand what I want?
What makes me better than anyone else?
What makes you better than me?
Questions, questions,
with no answer’s.
Still I ask myself everyday,
when will I introduce myself,
to the world, in this way?
All creatures great and small,
from the smallest microbe to the largest animal of all.
Our living planet provides life for a mass variety of species.
Marine life is full of massive numbers of species of great diversity.
Bacteria, crustaceans, fishes, mammals, amphibians and also jellies.
Land dwelling life also has many life specie variations
Bacteria, Insects, reptiles, birds, worms
and among the mammals are us humans,
and the last variety of other life species that are also important to mention
exist beneath our deepest oceans and seas
as well as far as on land one can see.
The millions of different species of vegetation.
We may think ourselves the specie most superior
but no life is worth more or less than any other.
All creatures great and small
have an unalienable right
to their one and only life
however great or small.
The Girl with the Golden Eye
often looks upward to the sky
She likes to watch the moon
She dances to a song of her own choosing.
She peers into dark shadows
She basks in the early morning sun
She dives deep into the depths
Where she knows the deepest currents run.
She lives her life for all the seasons
She loves both the present and the past
She holds on to all life's moments
She treasures every golden breath.
She knows life is but an inhale, an exhale,
A single blinking of an eye
Brief as the flickering of a candle
Fast as the clouds chasing the sky.
(December 11, 2010 Wausau, Wisconsin)
(c) Copyright 2010 by Christine A Kysely, All Rights Reserved
I don’t want to fight
Please just do what’s right
This is not the life we expected
But what it is can’t be rejected
It’s about more than you and I
Each mistake we make results in Her cry
This was not Her choice
We never heard Her voice
This unfortunate situation
Has resulted in visitation
Her life revolved around both you and me
Why is this so difficult for you to see?
Hurting me hurts Her too
In the end, the only one losing is you
She may be too young to understand
But, one day She’ll know what it means to be a man
She will know what you have done
And that daddy’s not always “FUN”
She will look back and realize
That daddy did tell lies
She knows right from wrong
You and I both taught her that song
She loves you unconditionally
So let’s please do things peacefully
Think of Her needs before your own
Try your best not to moan and groan
Let Her happiness be your guide
And she will forever be by your side
This is our one and only chance to get it right
Let Her life be our light
My only request; please see the light
I promise you; I don’t want to fight!
For her sake; let’s just get it right!
Lay
Songs of a lullaby. Sound of a cry.
Parts of my life are whole, others I try to fill before I die.
Why do we feel like we'll always be alone when we pass up the last love?
Why don't we see that we have hope all around us sent from above?
Why do people not love their neighbor as they used to?
Why do most of us feel a little used and see through?
Reach out your hand and I'll hold on.
If I reach out mine will you hold strong?
Reach out to the person beside you.
They may be dying inside.
Let them know that life is worth the ride.
If our hands touch the world will be connected.
With love every person will be infected.
Maybe that's what we should do.
Here's a hand from me to you.
What open display of arrogance!
Only fools would dare to chance
Do we know what tomorrow brings,
Just around and beyond the bend?
This desperation blinds you so,
And your mind in need of a mend
Such wasted time spent scavenging
The personal lives of others
Diligently searching for rotten fodder!
So much joy and pleasure you've found,
In this insatiable hunger for hate
Too far advanced that it'll not dissipate!
Self destruction, the path you are on,
Always conveyed by a toxic attraction
Darkness, misery your proud domain
But a house of dead fruit.. my disdain
Like children, playing games at being wise
You will learn, life tames and cuts to size!
So, show your "beautiful" colors,
Your elegant garb for the world to see
By day or night, light pierces the dark,
Truth is alive and forever will be!
A life of delusion is not worth a dime
The trail you leave is indicative by slime
Never far behind, there it goes! Watch it spew!
The name tag you wear plainly for all to view
Note: For Catie Lindsey's "Outrageous Rhyme" Contest
See what resides in the eyes and the tears of a struggling man
devastation and confusion from a man who don't think he can
do anything in life because he tries but he always fails
so he spends up most his life in the prisons or in the jails
with a disconnected feeling from people and from himself
paranoia and suspicions so gracefully he move with stealth
portraying love and joy but he dreads to have his dreams
because it feels like he is drowning in life like it's a stream
excruciating pains cause this man to have much stress
trying desperately to function and keep it up off his chest
maintaining for a moment and keeping up his composure
mood unstable deep inside and much deadlier than a soldier
always ready for whatever because his world is problematic
no apologies are excepted from the people who cause this static
contemplating for a second on bringing them their demise
but persistently he's stopped by the people who read his eyes
They dont know how "I" really feel.
They dont know how "T"he life is when there not around.
They dont know how "S"pecial some things are to me.
They dont know how "J"oyful my life isn't at points.
They dont know how "U"seless I think i am.
They dont know how "S"tupid I am.
They dont know how "T"he inside hurts.
They dont know how "M"ean i am to my family even though i try not to be.
They dont know how "E"veryone is nice to me and i don't respect that.
They dont know how "Its just me"
Now look at the letters in the " and read it going horazontal. ant tell me what it spells.
He is a special breed, for a special deed
You would never know by the way that he looks
He has nerves of steel. heart becomes cold
But his goal is a special deed
A renegade, can't always do it by the book'
His life is always on hold
He dress he dresses like a out law, still inside the law
He has to blend in and not be found out
No matter what kind of crime, he has to talk the talk
Make them think that he is out law
No room for any doubt
He is dead if he can't walk the walk
Gets down in their cesspool
Smells the same smell that they do
Walking a tight rope all the time
No room for any kind of fool
Not the regular man in blue
But he knows how to get the slime
The thing that they hate the most is a :snitch"
If found out he could get blown away
In my book they are the cream of the crop
He loves to tell a criminal in cuffs,"Yeah life is a b...tch
You could not get me to do that on his pay
Thank God for the under cover cop
I spoke with an elderly woman today . . . Ida was her name.
She was a most interesting lady, though not known for fortune or fame.
She told me a bit about her life . . . coming to America after WWII.
Her life must have been exciting, now known only by a few.
She told me her family isn't interested in her past . . . "They will not listen", she said,
I found her story so riveting, I wondered, "What's going on in their heads?"
She told me of her mother . . . how she listened to the family stories she put in her ears,
"I cry now inside, when I think of that time, because today, no one wants to hear."
There are many more Idas out there . . . whose stories we must learn to protect and keep.
What will heppen when we are Ida's age ? Will anyone listen when we so want to speak?
Ida's story may be a common one . . . yet, life writes each one differently.
Remember to listen to the Ida's, because her generation has changed the shape of history.
Her words so touched me that . . . when we fail to listen to the stories of generations gone by,
We lose that part of our own lives, and like Ida, "Inside I want to cry."
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