~ two towers brought down -
hundreds of souls turned to ash ...
we breathe death … and work ~
~ POETRY AGAINST POVERTY ~
( photographic art borrowed copyright-free by the author from public domain files at FreePik / Picasa )
Before the first dawn split the sky,
before light learned to speak,
there was darkness
endless, ancient, alive. ??
From that abyss came chaos,
from chaos came pain,
and from pain came us.
We are not children of the light.
We are forged by shadow,
carved by silence,
tempered by storms no eye has seen.
The world believes darkness destroys.
It does not.
It creates.
It burns away illusion,
tears apart weakness,
and leaves only truth standing.
Your scars are not wounds
they are scripture,
verses written in fire and survival,
proof that you were broken open
only to be rebuilt unshakable. ??
Do not curse the shadows
that raised you.
They taught you what the light never could:
that strength is not given..
it is forged in the places
no one dares to look.
Even the stars were born
from the deepest black,
their brilliance a rebellion
against the void. ??
And so are you.
Rise, not quietly,
but like a prophecy fulfilled.
Rise, not as a survivor,
but as a storm that silences the rain. ??
We are all born of shadows...
and shadows do not fear the dark.
— Heart Hacker ??
AHOY!
It’s not a foregone conclusion,
but a stinging reality: Even porcupines
master love, without making pain
a subsidiary organism:-
Though the pain of love's waves
may froth ashore, waves will recede
and froth will eventually dissipate
with healing evaporation: Leaving a sea
of memories floating on the ocean of life:-
Thoughtfully watered, always keep in mind,
you’re the captain of your soul, and
the blown wind in its sail:- And remember,
though docked and anchored, you can still
set sails for tomorrow—getting ready today:-
Ahoy, Matey! Be in winds of sailing grace:-
Mist moved over the river flats,
beading cobwebs along the fence.
By dusk, raindrops gathered
and danced in the dust,
each small impact
summoning a hundred more.
By dawn, their bright insistence
drummed on every roof,
swelling down into the river
until it forgot its banks.
Freed from its borders,
the flood rushed to the lowest point—
the open cut.
It crossed the service road,
slipped past rusted gates,
and filled the excavation.
It lifted the warning signs,
worried black silt from the seams,
carried the company’s name away.
As the rain slowed,
a wetland took shape,
mirroring the sky—
a chorus of warbling and croaking fills the air.
THE CATERPILLARING WAY
Caterpillaring,
I’m cocooning oppression:
Freedom soon to soar:-
The day she decides she’s done,
Wasting her best years in fear,
Cowering in filth and shadows,
Her pet cockroaches near,
Who can’t face me in the light,
And scurry from the sight,
If not too tainted then,
By their black-fingered blight,
She may assume her place,
Beside me in spite,
Of a once-roach being sprayed,
And my Queen’s appetite,
Will never be spoiled again,
By these putrid insects,
Ever scavenging and stealing,
Like a cancer that infects,
Where she finally feels the kiss,
On her face so inspiring,
As sun enlightens her,
Without her scurrying, but smiling.
Jesus was born in a shepherd's lowly manger
So that I can be born as a highly manager
Behind the scene God was preparing
The redemption was part of the plan
Jesus's birth was the initiation of the redemption plan
Enroute His death on the Calvary cross
The birth of Jesus Christ is the foundation for the perfection
Of the redemption of mankind
The first Adam brought poverty, sickness and damnation
The second Adam restored riches, health and redemption
We are redeemed from the curse of the law after His death
The Prince of peace returns the glory of man
Jesus's birth came to restore joy to mankind
Christmas is joy to the world for the fulfillment Of His covenant.
(Written 25/12/2025)
Written 24th August, 2026 for Epiphany Poetry Contest sponsored by Constance La France
The ironbark stands rigid in the heat,
shedding strips of gray to dry red earth.
For hours, the cicada hum is absolute,
a wall of sound that blurs the horizon,
then, the hot wind drops.
Smoke from a distant ridge dissipates,
and the canopy splinters the harsh sun
into a thousand sudden, golden prisms.
In that quiet fracture of the afternoon,
the answer settles over the sandstone.
It is not a shout, but the shedding of weight.
It is the ghost gum stepping out of its old skin,
revealing the pale, unblemished wood beneath,
breathing in the newly altered light.
coffee
it hits the spot
tired and worn-out body
needs tender loving care somedays
mocha
Take a minute to breathe
Actually, just exhale
The rest will take care of itself.
All around, the world is showing you
How to simply let go.
With signs as subtle as which way the wind blows.
Or if you’d rather,
Hold on as tight as you possibly can
Eventually you too will become exhausted.
Pleasure or pain isn’t the point,
Since both are subjective,
And interchangeably desirable for some.
The point is finding there is really no point
No up or down
Only that space you’ve exhaled to.
(8/10/26)
Trigger Warning:
This poem contains themes of toxic relationships, manipulation, emotional abuse, and references to suicidal threats. Please read with care.
I am too alive to die,
But too dead to live
Meeting you was a slow burn,
Like a burn given by cig.
Started with breaking friendships,
And then you hated to see—
simple dinners with family,
Me just trying to be.
"I want you to myself"
"You don't give me enough time"
"I'll kill myself if you ignore."
"You better stay in line."
I didn't want anyone to hurt,
So I always complied.
You quoted this was love,
And I believed your lies.
It has become the past now,
And I know it wasn't love.
But the bitter taste still lingers
And it stays like ash in my lungs.
IN TODAY’S POLITICAL-EDENIC GARDEN
Sow liberty’s seeds;
Reaping fruits not spoiled by
Infecting trump-plows:-
And I’ll lie on concrete floors
Gathering strength
To climb onto silk sheets
Thinking about dropped beats
Fight off the sleep deprivation
To circle the block, check the house and the yard
And I think of your handwriting and the lines on your face and trace your back like a map to the place
Where it’s warm and it’s dry and it’s safe
Tucked away
Every day
And maybe there’s more than we’re given
But when I just sit criss cross and listen
I’m Mary, daughter, John on a mission
Knowing what I’m meant to
Feeling like He felt too
I ran into you last week
It felt like wearing wet socks
I would’ve asked to come home
Just to dry off
I want your carpet between my toes
And the door on lock
I’d thaw by your fireplace
You would make tea
We don’t have to talk
We could just blink
I’d leave before sundown, it wouldn’t get bleak
We don’t have to talk
We don’t have to speak
Cool and quiet awareness came.
Through scattered dreams now all but unknown.
On the mercurial sunset of a love never to be owned.
Out of smiles and tears rendered on every earth tone.
And still you rejoiced...
Is not everyone on life's road but a teacher?
The new dawn not yours to surrender to once again?
And the journey inward not where true existence begins?
My sensitivity is not a burden, but strength
I feel everything deeply through every blow
Standing firm as roots with my standards rising
I won't crumble. I will grow
I lose the version of myself that survived
To find myself after getting lost in sorrow
Shattering old beliefs as I plant this new seed
I won't crumble. I will grow
I will show up and do the inner work
With my crown on straight, watch me go
Scars become wisdom as I water these dreams
I won't crumble. I will grow
I soar with my inner radiant light
Protecting my energy with peace to follow
I reflect, release, and rise in the warmth
I won't crumble. I will grow
I refuse to become what broke me
I honor my soul as I let him go
Closed doors direct me to open ones
I will not crumble. I will grow
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