84 THE BEGININNG THE WAITING THE PANTING THE FINDING THE UNTHINKABLE AGONIZING FRETTING A WHISPER BECOMES SO LONG TEARS SLAM TO THE WOOD FLOORS LIKE CRASHING GLASS THE BLACKMAIL THE EXTORTION HAS GONE OUT OF CONTROLL YOU CAN'T BREATHE YOU KNOW THAT THERE IS NO NEED FOR RANSO.E MONIES WHY NOT NOW THE GATHERING SOMETHING IS OFF SOMEONE IS NOT TRUTHFUL LETTING THE ENTIRE FAMILY DOWN WAS GAMBLING DRUGS FORGOTTEN DEBT OR JUST AN ACCIDENT GONE WRONG CREATING THE SHOW CASE KNOWING FULL WELL IT'S ALREADY OVER TRULY SAD WHEN YOU REALLY THINK ABOUT WHERE IS SAFETY SECURITY ALONE IN THE DESERT WE ARE WHO WE ARE HUMAN PERHAPS HUMAN ERROR CRUELTY THRIVES WHILE THE REST MOURNS I MYSELF WAS BEING BLACKMAILED WHEN I WROTE THE RANSOM NOTE A CRAZED JAMAICAN FEMALE MULES IDENTITY FRAUD THIEF WAS AFTER MY POETRY AFTER HER AFFAIR WITH MY ABUSIVE EX HUSBAND SHE BELIEVED SHE COULD EXTORT MY AMERICAN POETRY SENDING KILLERS TO SHOOT ME OVER MY AMERICAN POETRY RANSOM NOTES ASSAULT RIFLES HOME INVASIONS BURGULARY I FEEL SO BLESSED I SURVIVED MY KILLERS WHICH IS WHY I WROTE THE POEM THE RANSON NOTE YEARS AGO MY HEART IS STILL TENDER THERE THANKS POETRY SOUP FOR FAV MY POETRY
What is blackmail catering to one's
own soul capturing fear in a mason jar
watching the panting the empty air
dissolving the beautiful wings extorting
the brilliant hue manifested overtime
clinging to the boundaries of lusting
to simply breathe shattering hope
craving the harsh warning signs
the taking of every saved memory
stored so cleverly an yet balance
restores itself all else left dangling
surrounded by torn heart strings
pounding fret as per diem enters the
solid structure of surety awaiting the call
of sheer tangible wrath the wild eyes
the vacant stare pockets are being ripped
at the seams leaving only soiled lent
as a trading post to be equally shared
in a group setting adjusting the mere
solace for peace an eager tantrum arouses
malice and mangled sanity opening
the door to find your intruder coughing
up threats that he himself was forced
to swallow upon leaving ransomware notes
unapologetically relieved yet morbidly removed
Written by Mrs Yolanda Joy Nicholsen
The road is long, the distance too great
I struggle alone in this distant path
I let pride guide me-a most vicious evil!
Words were spoken and hearts were broken
Now all to my name is but a bag of shame
I was wrong-God I was wrong
To admit to fault-all for nought!
Now, bright as day
No sooner did I pay
For the crime of passion, holds me at ransome!
I've made my bad, that resolves to be laid
My credit's due
For my lover's sue
She pains me whole and yet I...
I love her more
My prickly rose is dropping bush
And what a litter of dead mass
It leaves the bright emotions hush
And wary of the winsome wasp
But there is a bud quickening sun
And a gentle rain to come
After the butterflies take their fun
O give one thorn its ransome.
Nothing Common In This World Is Given Freely,
Without Some Kind Of Out-Standing "Bill" No Matter
What The Case Everything, And Everyone Demands
A Price N' Cost Before The Ransome Note Is Given.
Standing There As They Change Thier Plea, Ragging
On About The Consequences Time Has Stopped
And Paid It's Dues....
Wait Behind These Bared Doors And I
Can Question To Revel The Real Reason's
Why They Keep Us Captive.
Taxes It"s Called The Bill Of Rights "Act"
Which Was Signed Further Adue...
Even With "Bill Clinton At Hand As President
I Say: What The Hell We're All Imprisioned
Anyhow.
When to Jordan bank I came
No where to go, I could not cross
I knelt all broken and ashame
Then a man stood there to carry me across
Cho.
Put your feet in the water he said
And set the ark before, I will be first
Trust me in your heart, I have led
Your father's in the red sea, God will be first
The desert behind was cold and so bare
Lord, I am weary, I have no return
Shake my doubt again, like a Sinai here
By faith alone your power I discern
My father is sleeping for you to come
On the wake up morning, mother waits for you
All the bride resplendant, now ransome
Me, for your love alone is forever and true.
I stood there that day, O, hear what I say
The waters rolled into piles, a mighty dome
The man with sword, O, he made a way
Faith parted my Jordan, faith leads me home
Some sweet day I will be singing
Songs angels cannot understand
Earth's sorrows done, triumph winging
And I am in the promiseland
Some sweet day I will be singing
Songs of praise to the Gracious king
For his ransome and forgiving
For joy that heals and make me sing
Some sweet day I will be singing
In glad reunion with my friends
When through Sabbath clouds He's bringing
And love a thousand years there spends
Some sweet day I will be singing
And angels follow me in praise
And joy my cup overflowing
It's over then, the weary days.
Great mentor, of my virtual paradise
Half muse, half woman
Yet between the spirit and the flesh
Still of all compassion full
Do you still come to read and stretch your time
In full ease with discomforts woven for my bed?
And would tell me still
Your love within a prayer I may clasp
While words churn me like a sugar mill?
I read your siren's serenade:
"Rise and grasp the thing you long for,
Know better than to let it swim by,
Court your dreams"
And thought rise I surely can
And grasping has no domain in vanity
But that thing I longed for
What form or figure or shape embraces it
What formula of flesh or frame of spirit
For I too have heard that El Dorado is real
And might have passed it in my zeal
Not ever having seen it before, nor knowing now
What shall I gain by its possession or how
It swims me by
An electron in the orbital of dreams
By some uncertainty's principle lost
And for this I pay one poem per cost
One bleeding heart
To ransome a universe of dreams.
Let there be no words until the night is gone
For tomorrow will come again
Let all tongues sleep until the wake of dawn
Night in dreams dissolves the pain
Hush all voices until tomorrow, my love
I know the day will come
Dews shall replace the tears, O my love
And truth find its ransome
We have nothing to say tonight, my love
And nothing to remember too
Star lights like snowflakes fall from above
O that sorrows fell so too
Let no voice be heard until day returns
I know the day will come
In love's fire the liar, time retired, burns
We wait for day to come
And keep our silence until tomorrow
And my hope of loving you
Despite your choice to drink of sorrow
While leaves are gathering dew
Let no voice be heard tonight, my love
I know the day wil come
Vindication is an act, a joy from above
Reason gone, belief shall come
Day
is night's heirloom
after-day
a ransome of Macoutes
The sculptor
is a grave who
paints Pol Pot
in red costume
Someday
history may well explain
this violent shortage of coffins.
My island slept for years in the care
Of Tainos, Caribs and Arawak
Their canoes on the sea breast bare
Dreaming of milk from manioc
The swamps unscarred, trees secure
Batos and songs rinsed in the azure.
Then came doom laden caravels came
Prancing with Conquistadores
Their swords to slaughter, then to shame
The Ave Marias slutted by whores
Whose blazing balls of canons denied
The sufficient death of the crucified.
My island was the Mary Magdalene held
For ransome in the frying lust
For gold, the continental wars spelled
A trembling virginity in the dust
A lost of idyllic grace, where bloody men
Sowed the evil inherited again and again.
From Spanish to French, Spanish to British
How callous is all history
A spectre publishing the marginal brutish
Shrivelled glory of identity.
And still my Mary, her alabastor box a gift
This tropic wonder, this lignum vitae of thrift
From empty tomb to broken hearted disciple
Evanglizes the Mahoe dawn
Over the Blue Mountain where peace ripple
On the motto, still the fawn
In the forest brings the stag to court
This island stands ready to file a good report.
The man like a phoenix rose from the smoke
And we with the audicity to hope looked up and heard
The strange cawing of the vulture white bird
Like a code unciphered, and yet the angst provoke
Of allies in the foxholes fretting for a change.
O this is a time between peace and war, no strange
Allegories here. Numbered with dead, some
Disrupting double consciousness found ransome
In books and ballot, a narrow, but fertile range
To sing of the weary years a different way.
We sang a rap around the blues without dismay
And knew that singing needed wings as well
For feathers when lingered in the flames made hell
Hotter in the heart. And there the phoenix like day
Renewed rose to better us in our dreams.
But the constant cawing, the vultures loud screams
In decibels of silence are rattling the moon
A phoenix only flies when the nest egg is ruin
Walk softly on the brittle shells, here are our dreams
It's late, it's late you cannot turn back the clock
Among the prairie hens are eagles fallen from the rock.
Nailed to the cross
the holy lamb of God
sacrificed as a ransome
for the wrongs of the whole world;
Behold the great drops of passion
Rolling down from hiss crimson balls
and streams of sacrifice and love
flowing out of his bleeding side
Condemned to the cross:
the only son of God,
depised to pay the price
for the poor to gain the prize;
oh! hear the the great word of true salvation
out of his thirsty pot
And eternal thought of full redemption
out of his weeping heart.
burried by the cross the martyred word of God destined to be die and rise again
to save us from the cross of cruelty and pain
behold the the victorious sun of life
He is risen from the grave of shame and chains with the key of life eternal for the
sheep and rod of jugdement and hell for the son of perdition
behold the lamb of God
slain to save us forever.
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