Shed A Tear
Within debilitating heartache you shed a tear
The loss of a loved one that you hold so dear
Gone is the that one love you once held so near
Memories overcome you as you shed a tear
Seeking inner strength that no longer is clear
Overcome by all these emotions that appear
Consumed by the sorrow and pain so severe
Suddenly overcome by grief you shed a tear
Praying for inner strength to adhere
Hoping that time will heal and endear
Fearfully your near future is so unclear
You quietly and solemnly shed a tear
Releasing all inner sorrow as you shed a tear
Letting go of the uncertainty causing you fear
Becoming aware of your feelings so sincere
In your loneliness you privately shed a tear
A sketch of thoughts , a drawing mind
Sees beyond words , the heart's design
Someone i think , with intentions unclear
Misguiding my path , bringing forth fear
They say I'm too young to know the truth
But my heart beats strong with feelings anew
A friend so dear with words that align
Writing the same lines in a language unknown
Struggling to speak in tongues not his
Yet his heart speacks loud
He yearns to grow up and shed boyish ways
He want me to the the same
Yet I feel most me in my youthful skin
A boy at heart where I find my kin
In a dance of words and hearts that beat
We find our path , our own unique skill
Thought our words might align but our hearts may not
In this friendship we find our own
They slither in plain sight,
tailored suits hiding scales,
cold eyes behind warm smiles.
I saw one on the news today
blinked twice, vertical pupil flash,
then back to human charm.
Of course.
They meet in marble halls,
forked tongues drafting laws
while we argue over bread prices.
Brilliant, really.
Last week my neighbor changed
his handshake too dry,
smile too wide, teeth a little too sharp.
He offered me coffee.
I declined.
They’ve ruled for centuries,
pyramids their charging stations,
royals their breeding stock.
We are the cattle,
happy in our pens,
scrolling, voting, consuming.
But here’s the joke
they shed their skins every election,
and we cheer the new one,
never noticing the same slit eyes
watching us clap.
Yeah.
Totally real.
Pass the tinfoil.
verdant colors in the horizon call to my heart
my step is livelier now
for my she-shed is ahead,
waiting for presence and truth, mine
there is no writing like outdoor writing
active anticipation resonates in my brain
I can leave the bumble bramble of the city
and the evil naysayers in their concrete crypts
trees sprinkling acorns and walnuts give a whistle
day is breezy, sky an over-washed denim blue
ideas are promenading in the outskirts of my dendrites
Thoreau-like passion toward nature brings me home
Miles Of Blood Shed
The cost is paid in blood
Control over land and oil
The collapse of society
Every nation is sinning
Another bloody war
Over power and complete control
War echoes in the wind
In the end, no one truly wins
More blood shed upon the land
Men killing men
Brothers pointing guns at each other
A never ending cycle
Human kind destroying it’s self
A global impact of sadness
Chaos and madness
The sky raining bombs
Tears of women and children fall
Leaders full of selfishness and ego
Just for power and oil
The wicked is never ending
Keep your eyes upon the sky
I’ve got my life right, with God you see,
if I was to die, go ahead and bury me.
I’m not there, here is why,
I shed my skin, so I could fly.
And fly I did, right out of there,
will I see you again, some time, some where.
cookie here
biscuit across the pond
toilet for us
is loo for them
our schedule
is their shed shull
we both speak English
but I can barely understand their version of it
When at the bottom of the garden
pottering in the potting shed
plying those in need of weeding or reseeding
then putting all the plants to bed
she spotted and picked up a flower pot
which seemed to say 'Forget-me-not'
but as it looked somewhat more forlorn
she promptly unearthed filled and began
to sprinkle a little H2O here and there
with her trusty old watering can
altho' some clearly may have been seen to droop
and a few of the flora nearly fade away
it did the trick and in the nick of time
she brought them back and bravely saved the day
Looks askance
does Western man
when he sees
an African
Revenge he fears
for damage done
No tears shed ~
for truth he shuns
Drink a beer, shed a tear, tremble in fear
For the good ‘ole US of A, my dear
Will Mamdani save us all
Or consign us to free fall
Lenin and Stalin both ready to cheer
It clung like ivy, patient, green with hunger —
wrapped itself around every beam,
crept beneath shingles,
rooted in the cellar’s damp breath.
I mistook it for the house itself —
fed it rain, fed it dust,
let it climb my windows
and press its leaves to the glass
until I could no longer see daylight.
But rot loosens quietly.
One morning the vines lay slack,
detached in their own weight,
as if my silence was permission
for them to fall away.
Now the walls breathe unchoked,
bare brick catching sun like raw skin.
Floorboards sing with sudden emptiness.
The air is new — thin, sharp —
a future echoing through cleared rooms.
I walk barefoot through debris,
lighter than I have ever been.
For the first time
I do not flinch at my own footsteps.
It's criminal what women'll do
to keep a man down on the farm
shed false tears strategy I fear
pull the wool turn on the charm
smiling all the while
trap him wrap him twist him
round her little finger
and insist it seems
should he linger longer than
appropriate she deems
for him to appreciate
'til he's tongue-tied up in knots
with all those forget-me-nots
keeping her the centre of his attention
not to mention the apple of his eye
starting with Eve it's now a far cry
from his ambition ever coming to fruition
should he cave in and comply
The People I Shed
I swallowed myself whole
a jagged glass in the throat of night,
shards carving the shape of someone else.
There was a girl who wept like winter rivers,
whose heart cracked open, spilling cold and unkind,
drowned in the hunger of being too much and never enough.
I pressed my face to the mirror’s cruelty,
tried to recognize a stranger’s eyes,
watched her bleed quiet into the cracks,
her silence louder than any scream.
I shed the soft skin of innocence
it peeled away like dead leaves in autumn,
revealing a skeleton forged in fire and regret.
I carry the ghosts of every version lost,
each one a scar, a wound, a prayer
and sometimes, when the night is sharp enough,
I hear their voices,
fractured lullabies in the dark,
telling me I am not broken
only becoming.
Open your mind once again and shed some tears for a
world full of pain
Shed some tears for the children that die
and for the mothers that openly cry
Shed some tears for needless death in war
not really knowing what they are fighting for
Shed some tears for the people with no home
the unwanted that die all alone
Shed some tears for all hatred and sorrow
only we can make a better tomorrow
Shed some tears and hear what I say
for a better tomorrow we must cry for today.
Mice in the shed, she demanded
I do something.
I found three mice,
surprisingly easy to catch, like they
had been saved.
Living on old newspapers and
stillborn manuscripts
not much of a diet.
Kill them, she demanded.
I put them in a shoebox
made a few holes and gave them
some bread crumbs.
In the tall grass, by the road verge
I let them out, and that they would
rather stay in the box.
Finally, they got the message and
disappeared.
I looked up and said:
“What about it, God? Any chance to
Win on the lotto?
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