White knuckle straining
Gripping the laces
At the edges of my thoughts
Praying the laces
Don’t come off
I am screaming
You cannot hear me
Because I am learning
I am learning what is healthy
And tearing down the dry wall
Until your nail beds are bleeding is
Not.
I do not hate you.
How do I say
I hate the way
I have to relearn how to think
How to speak
I have to weigh every opinion
Every porcelain inkling
So that I do not break
It
Break
Me
Break, you.
Break through!
I can do this sober.
Unless
I can’t.
String me up by my neck
There is only silence
Until the next
The thought
Rips its way in
Unfamiliar nasty little friend
I white knuckle strain
And grip the lace
Hoping for a soft landing
A greeting
A whisper instead of the screaming
I am gritting my teeth
Praying
And they call this
Healthy,
Self understanding.
But thinking for me
Feels more like disease
Punishment seeping internally
Pushing my face into gravel
Threatening to leak
Through my teeth
And onto my life where
I’ve rebuilt
Piece by piece.
Silence.
I breathe.
Release.
Repeat.
He swore his vows beneath a
hollow sun,
Then broke the trust before
the day was done.
With whispered poison and a
cruel, abusive temper,
He strangled every truth that
he had sung.
He sought his comfort in
another's woman arms,
While tearing down his wife
soul and her love for him.
A masterclass of malice,
stitched with deceiving lies,
He watched the fading
courage in her eyes.
But silence breaks, and I will
not remain,
I'm stepping past the empty
shadow of his bondage chains.
A false sense of pride born out of
Tearing down the weak is no panacea
For internal emptiness; a fervent prayer
To God, I do suggest, to help reconstruct
All that is broken within you, maybe then,
You'll find the road to true happiness.
Tearing down the illusions of falsehoods,
My footsteps march forward towards fullness.
The skies seem so obscure beyond the woods;
Afar, the light of love looks luminous.
Trails that were trodden once are now traceless;
I have to toil to till and find my path.
So-journers and wayfarers seem faceless;
My logic lags beyond all human math.
Fields and farmlands are deserted and dry;
Wells I dig within do not quench my thirst.
I stand amidst slippery sands and cry:
Might the journeys stalled in mud be reversed?
When pathless paths attain their cosmic goal,
Does Brahman wake, or blind, the dreaming soul?
Sewage spills
On everyone,
Can’t see the forest for the trees
Intent on tearing down
All good things~
Land of make believe!
Maybe we can stop the spill, though
Even soldiers breath their last,
Despite all efforts
It comes for all,
Amen…
Candied apple red her lips glimmer and shine
those deep blue eyes
long auburn hair
and freckles
she was a pretty girl
set fast in her ways
little time for foolishness
always busy with chores and babysitting
those three wild baby brothers
at twelve she seemed their mother
both parents worked long days
never really seen her play with other children
to busy rounded up her feral brothers
But at times when she hung out the washed laundry
she would sing
her sweet voice pure as an angel's
The song broken up by those three toad heads
screaming, fighting and tearing down the clean laundry
onto the dusty ground.
Words not sure a child should know
but did get the three's attention
Back in the laundry basket to rewash.
She re-hung the freshly washed laundry
as a gentle breeze and warm sun would soon dry.
She sang again and smiled.
Finally little Thomas spoke up
how long you gonna leave us to hang this time?
My britches gonna tear.
Why does it take people marching in the streets
for us to take notice and get out of our seats?
Could be because society keeps humming along
as long as the majority feels like they belong.
What about the few that get pushed to the side
fighting daily just to get to the same starting line.
Tearing down the oppressed is sadly etched in stone
yet it shouldn't stop us from rebuilding those that feel alone.
Naive to believe the reconstruction will happen overnight
since we won't be able to quickly flip all wrongs to right.
But we can begin with a recognition and understanding
that the world keeps score based on our social standing.
So while the many may never know what it's like for the few
it's never too late to open our eyes to start seeing clues.
(Immediately after being found "guilty"
of denying that the earth was stationary
and the sun orbited around it, Galileo
said, "Eppur si muove!" [But it moves!])
It's hard to live in Lilliput, I find.
I have to cross my fingers, play their game.
Their billing, filling, drilling daily grind
sits ill with me. They all trot out the same
tired cliches. Passing a painting, never fail
to comment on the squareness of the frame.
Unprofitable, weary, flat and stale.
You can't earn prizes here. These fools prize earning.
No sweets to eat. It's one long dreary tale
of condemnation, disapproval, spurning.
The Sunday supplements determine taste,
all tearing down, forbidding, banning, burning.
They're sealed in heavy metal, concrete-cased
austerity. They put the "die" in "diet".
What will survive of them is nuclear waste.
Denounce, detract, dismiss it and deny it.
Don't look for clover - look for cloven hooves.
Excoriate it, flay it, vilify it.
They'd love to let life lurch along in grooves,
the gauche, perverse, unruly human mind
trapped tidily in aspic. But it moves.
They’re tearing down a building;
All that’s left’s the concrete frame.
You can see the ceilings and the spots
That windows used to claim.
It was once a home to many -
Don’t know how or why folks left.
Maybe some received a buyout;
Others might have been bereft.
When I pass the site each morning
And I note this empty shell,
It is hard to see it as a place
Where people used to dwell.
Still today, beneath a window,
Or where one once seemed to go,
Was an add-on A/C unit
And that let the whole world know
That, though soon there’d be a building
With apartments, bright and new,
It’s replacing homes where lives were lived;
Acknowledgment is due.
We do not speak out of our own strength,
Rather it's a response.. the word of God makes,
He gives us the keys of authority to speak against fear,
And the word of God speaks loud and clear,
Our voice is an instrument and the chords open doors,
The beauty of His word shows our hearts more,
He sets the stage as we stand at the alter,
He leads our hearts as we watch him put it all together,
Stepping down can be standing up, the heart can speak louder than words,
When your strength is weak but your heart is stirred,
And you respond accordingly, you heed to the call,
Sometimes He quiets your heart to say nothing at all,
Treasuring His purpose while purposely forgetting your own,
You see it's not your house.. it's His home,
And his love will touch the very depths of your soul,
The tears you cry of letting go of your own,
Releasing, tearing down walls, responding and speaking out His words,
Knowing in your heart what's meant to be heard,
Love is a digger... find me in Him,
His love is my treasure from within
You only feel the pain when the blood runs true
One more lash opens your heart
Hear the beat
Thumping
I’m inside you
Cruel
But you wanted change
I’m your alter ego
Tearing down your barricades
Against the wall
You scream
It’s what you asked for
Tears and blood
Now I’m the animal
Unashamed you cry
Your pleasure
Naked and bleeding
You place the whip
I release your passion
You want more
Now I’m bleeding
Walking the line
Tortured in mind
You are free
Liberated.
Words can hurt
Black and white are in a fight
But no one seems to find the light
Don't climb the ladder
Tearing down other for you to rise
The generation’s are being racist
Someone needs to stop the latest
Words can hurt
2 words can equal ten tears
it's been going on for all these years
Fill a bucket
Don't just chuck it
Words can hurt
More than a shove
Someone please just show some love
The anger is rising just like the temperatures
Please just someone be mature
Have racism exist no more
Words can hurt
Don't just blurt
I was born with a hammer in hand
Breaking down connections
From the moment I could breathe
My first steps were into the soles of rejection.
I find myself wondering
“Does it have to end this way?”
Even when the night falls
The day is still the day.
I was built for tearing down
Trust and bonds and truth
Because if you start see who i truly am
It’s time to cut you loose.
I fear the fear of thinking
I think I fear you too
You promise me forever
So that’s why I have to leave you.
I don’t want to be afraid
But that’s all i know
I was built for rejection
So it’s nature for you to go.
Go,
Go.
The wheels turn in the circle of completion that always returns to us,
From birth to death, from the first tear to the last sigh,
We venture forward with the hope of uncovering hidden meaning,
For in a fleeting moment of existence, amidst moments of silence,
We reflect and return to well-trodden paths, building and tearing down,
Trying to understand the spirit that drives us through life's labyrinth,
Walking paths of distant memories, seeking to fulfill thoughts,
Pushing forward, adjusting, arranging life's letters in perfect order.
I discover love as a masterpiece, faith as a new chance,
Hope as a warm embrace that holds me in its arms,
As the days swiftly turn from light to night,
I stand by the river's edge, singing an ethereal song, a hymn of change.
The circle of life always twists, like a story unfolding without end,
And I, a traveler through seasons, let myself be carried by the waves of eternal time.
Every day, a new fight,
For the dignity of human rights.
People turning on each other,
Instead of standing strong together.
Prejudice against Black and Brown,
Judging skin while tearing down.
The suffering in Gaza—a tragic sight,
Reflecting the loss of humanity’s light.
The poor lie on roads to sleep,
Without enough food, their struggles are deep.
Villages parched with thirst and despair,
In lands where life’s barely fair.
While rulers and oppressors rest,
Hungry children cry, distressed.
Those in comfort, it’s time to see,
Everyone deserves rights, equally free.
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