By breakfast, a voice note crossed the lane.
It had her laugh exactly—
even the small breath before a word—
but none of the words were hers.
Her mother played it once
and laid the phone face down.
By noon, the grocer would not say her name.
"I never said it," she told him.
He counted change into her palm
without looking up.
At three, the tailor set her ticket aside.
"Tomorrow," he said,
and called the next woman forward.
Years earlier, a schoolbook showed
a woman tried for witchcraft,
her neighbours pointing from the page.
The artist had given each a face.
Only the accused had a name.
For eleven days, her borrowed voice
entered rooms she could not enter.
Her mother set warm bread beside her;
by morning, only one bite was gone.
Each day her mother asked the first sender
where he'd found the recording.
On the eleventh, he wrote,
"I made it. It was only a joke."
Her mother shared his words.
Three people replied with flowers.
When she returned for the dress,
it hung loose at her waist.
The tailor gathered an inch of cloth
between his finger and thumb.
"Don't worry," he said.
"No one will notice."
A reputation like mine
Ain't born in the afternoon
It crawls out of the alleys
Where whispers sharpen
Themselves
Into pocket-knives.
I walk through rumors
The way old gods walk
Through storms-
Unbothered,
Unmoved,
Already knowing the wind
Never had the final say.
They throw accusations
Like stones at a monument
They different build.
But I'm carved from a truth
That remembers every strike
And still stands upright.
Integrity is the currency
You can't Counterfeit
Noise is cheap.
And when they try to rewrite
My name
With their shaky little stories,
My reputation answers
In a voice older than their
Shawdows:
I was built to outlive
Your version of me.
many rituals,
from birth till the death
breath folds each goodbye.
Imitated feast-
ceremonies choking on fear
shrinking from them.
shame of the ceremony
when mandop lacks pomp and guests,
no minister (or M.L.A) comes.
ashamed of parent's death
if ceremonies not grand
although not fed (him) well.
ashamed at his own death
while rites are not made grand
before the (watching ) people.
she conjured up bubbly brew in her cauldron
fearful of no one, prying eyes did not dare to look
her reputation kept the naysayers at bay
Washed up, run down
Run out of town
Holding on to the old
is casting my mold
I can break free
determine my own destiny
he believes his intent is camouflaged
his reputation proceeded him on social media
the women turn away in disgust
a transparent disguise
The Name of Yahweh holds a reputation
The Name of Jesus holds a Reputation
No wonder His Name is attacked
But this name can never be defeated
Jesus upholds the status of his Glory
He carries the Pattern of His Father
Jesus is Jehovah the Saviour
His Eternal Spirit changes our behaviour!
He Saves us—He Delivers us
The Name of Jesus holds a Reputation
Do Not Fear –Jesus is Near
The Rule of God and the Value of Jesus bring
The vindication of His People!
Those bought by the Blood of the Lamb and
Those who Honour the Glorious Name of Yahweh
“O LORD our Lord, how excellent
is thy name in all the earth!” (Ps. 8:1).
Mark Frank
Copyright 2024
Though I’m not Humpty Dumpty, I’ve had a great fall
When I tripped over my lies while walking truth’s wall.
Can all the king’s horses and all the king’s men
Ever convince people I’m honest again?
Where went my stature and my hard-earned persona?
Who’ll save my soul? Will they do it pro bono?
Whence come truths’ flames when you’re discovered a liar.
Whence come God’s lightning and Purgatory’s fires.
I have seen my future, and it bodes bleak.
Its rapid erosion caused my soul to weep.
All of my tears and whereto they seep
Have topped off the gutters in life’s cruel streets.
All this has weakened my boiling brain,
And cannot save me from blame I gamed.
DAMN MY PERFIDY! DAMN SIN’S PAIN!
WILL I EVER ESCAPE TRUTH’S LONG REFRAIN!?
Will the truth that weakened me and caused my woes
Plague my soul during my reputation’s death throes?
Whence comes life’s agony. Whence comes death’s pain.
What is quid pro quo in death’s zero-sum game?
Lies are fate’s hammers but the truth is its anvil.
Will life’s vagaries still vex me once my image is strangled?
Truth’s whirlpools swirl swift and their waters wind deep.
If my soul dies intestate, must bad Karma I keep?
Listen to the racket of resounding lies
that reverberate within your polluted mind,
where another truth is battered and dies.
I have dragged out the casualties of ethical beliefs,
and with disgust for their loss, expressed my grief
while your actions and words of which lies are replete
became the truth’s death, tossed around like trash on the street.
When I speak, the words spoken are poison for you to hear,
and they ignite your temper and strip your comfort—
the burden of truth’s casualties is always onerous to bare.
So, you retaliate with fury and come after me
as if I am doing wrong by admitting the truth in what I see.
And the fact is that I can see the malice in your eyes—
how your actions and words are perniciously personified.
I can see behind your mask nobody else can see,
your veiled intentions and secrets—
the epitome of shameless duplicity.
When you smile, there is no warmth or glow,
it is the mask of deceit that you always show.
So, while others remain fooled and praise your name,
I’ll NEVER be swayed by your fabricated fame!
Red, red vision with a colorblind mind
Each somber sequence, broken being kind
Palatable, friend of a friend and nothing more
Unavoidable conversation, a sigh, a chore
Telling truth, telling lies, telling what I need to get by
A song in secret, background noise, to find me they don’t try
Tied to brighter light, dim but acknowledged enough
Insecure, malleable yet sheltered and rough
Only few get to her before the walls emerge
Never steady, they stay standing at a distance, she is standing on the verge
Okay, I'm back to this innocent old dude
My reputation was in danger of being poopooed
I'm an okay Jack
Back on track
But can't promise I won't be once again crude
It takes too long to make a name
It goes so deep and seeks no fame
It can be changed at your request
If you intend and do your best
No one can change the name you make
No one can hide, no one can fake
The truth you know and live by
No matter what they vow to try
Good names do shine like real gold
They shine much more as they get old
They stay behind when we are gone
To speak of us and things we’ve done
How fast life goes, how slow the name!
It goes so deep and stays the same.
26/10/2022
Reputation
I marveled the emeritus recognition
I felt compelled to sniff the reputations
Somewhat louder than the tradition
I crave the silent, staple self-respect
My tribute, I could not awaken
I crave the conventional, Confucians credo
A notorious celebrity - that notorious celebrity
Somewhat louder than the libido
I crave the ancestry, acclaimed aphrodisiac
Mine reputation
Spans beyond information
Forth wit my education
Sanctions my situation
Covering my operations communication
Be it far from the nation
Generation’s evaluations interpretation
Amidst generational interpretation
4/14/22
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2022©
In a motel room he blew a man away
A shotgun to the face was the play
He said would it went all wrong
In a drug bust where mercy didn’t belong
That made his reputation not misplaced
Leaving the perp with a bloody mess for a face
They say he wouldn’t get away with it now
He smirked and said it was in the know how
The family wanted him to pay
But the Coroner said the killing was OK
So the lesson to perps was for everyone
If you deal in drugs you will come undone
But what is left when the deed was done
Did he pay for the violence when he won
Or when things were quite in his bed
Was the memory hard to live with the dead.
© Paul Warren Poetry
As shadow
Is the slave of man
Man is the slave of
Time
Work
Pressure
Reputation
Greed
Ambition
Emotion
And his or her ownself
So
Free yourself
Before the world can free you
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