Let not this darkness behind you
Your present joy o'ershadow.
Fair Earth, in its morn's glow, shedding
Its own haunted state's fogged clue.
Neither unhelpfulness nor a low of zest for life
could lift me from the deep abyss I had fallen into,
countless failures added more gloom to strife;
nobody applauded me, all I head was a big boo!
When misfortunes or pitfalls mark one's fate, despair sets in
to deplore an unforgiving derision echoing with contempt
in a hall of laughter and shameful words of undeserving scorn;
lowering your head in shame is admitting and condoning guilt!
Who's afflicted by unfairness often chooses not to fight,
but having been deprived of nurturable inner strength
any loss of this virtue can cause a devastating blight
of anxieties', fears, and regrets void of moral worth!
Be persistent and unyielding, ditch all pitiful discouragement,
it's the unfaltering way to conquer any shadow of lingering doubt
and fend off an unforgiving derision that bruised soul and mind;
Is there an expectation to live life fully? Let yours be a perfect bind!
My grief is not resolved
It blocks the heart
It torments my life
The more I recognized
Not only sadness
There's also anger
Envy, lack of confidence
Emptiness and fear
Living in grief is unforgiving
Unacceptable and losing
It transform love more to hate
This is my worst case scenario.
bottles broken and empty
just like your promises
emphasis on empty
because that's all that you left me
so for me to fill your cup again, like the fool I am
would forever leave a stain on my honor as an honest man
like planting a seed in a puddle of boiling mud and bubbling concrete
I will no longer feed your hate for me
by being your tree
barren
so you shall receive
an empty plot of land
and eat the tumors we left behind,
blooming with asbestos
and bear the scars meant for me
When doves cry, it makes my blood boil.
I grit my teeth in rage and spit in deaths face.
Crocodile tears from the white pigeon that flies through the ashes
of the hand who guided the blade that nearly killed me.
I have carefully practiced mourning this death before.
I have played this very scene in my head for years
on moonlit paths when I escaped your wrath,
when I still believed I would crave you.
I am still waiting for an apology
from the unrepentant corpse.
I will shed no tears for you.
I swear to you I will not grieve this loss.
I will charge through your vacant house as your ashes dust a tree in the desert -
you are nothing more than the meaningless sand that blows into my eyes.
I will rip out your floor boards and throw away
everything that would ever remind me of you.
You have been dead to me for a long time
but only when the dove cries, I will know
It's finally my turn to destroy.
A life I lived has passed me by,
My thoughts of wanting to go back in time
I am trying to turn away and fly
I will lose my will of losing this time.
My fragmented memories on recall,
Difficult for me with an event installed
So long ago, I thought no more of it
My mind was in shambles, enthralled.
The racing thoughts would not stop,
I thought I was going insane and had stomped
And my heart had been
Torn, torn apart again, please stop.
I'd find myself being unforgiven to me,
With the deepened emotions of sin
"But unforgiven," a deep wound for me
The distractions my demons pin.
The chaos drenched my confused mind,
These demons spread negatively, vibed
My every thought screams havoc
Walk away, don't listen, I scribed.
Our Past Is Unforgiving
Miracle Man
4/23/2023
We squander our time
when we venture into the waste land of life
inhabited by the what-if’s, and if I’d only.
Time is not a granter of mulligans,
so the past is unforgiving.
Mistakes or bad decisions are a part of life,
and leaves collateral damage which affects others.
Any mistakes should be viewed as teaching tools.
The horse sped by, restlessly galloping
The train disappeared in a blink
The cars are obstinately racing
For a moment, I forgot to think!
The gushing wind is loud and unforgiving
The ground under my feet is trembling.
With an untamed and ambiguous force
Everything is filled with speed and remorse.
I halt to hear, listen through the wildeness
Too slim, too fat, too small, too big
Too lame, too cool, too dumb, too successful!
Too many things, nothing but boredom
Too many restrictions, too much freedom!
Too little time, too much potential
Too ugly, too pretty, too many credentials!
Too mediocre, too ambitious
Too naïve, too pretentious!
Too early, too late
Too bland, too great!
Too timid, too strong
Too right, too wrong!
And I lost the count
When I took another look around.
The never-ending race goes on
So does the constant competition.
Only for a split second, I stopped running
Everything managed to let me down, with the hint of a warning!
This race to please the world is overstraining
You're lost, you're nothing
If you take breaks, you're not the chosen one
The race is ongoing, only focus and RUN!
How can you say
every life should be saved
when you have no concern for the living,
for the hungry and poor
you have saved that life for
yet find yourself so unforgiving?
~Jeannie Cronin
If the sky should crumble and fall,
And the fire should have dominion over my soul
In the moment of my last gasp for air
I wish to be painting the city of love in this notebook I have
It’s like we’re colorless rose flowers,
Magnificent but still can’t attract the bees to stay long enough,
With no nectar nor bright petals to manifest my affection
So...before I give my soul up to such an unforgiving sky,
I wish to die with a paper and pen,
Write one last poem to the angel of grief,
For I am a wordsmith with no good to write
The only body that refuses to burn in the crematorium...
He was a raised hand,
Striking down his past.
Delivering sutures
To each of the futures
He touched.
Braying of donkeys
Echoing in his background.
A passing cloud,
Thundering loud
Smatterings of thought,
Like intermittent rain
On corrugated tin.
Ridges of grey matter
Rising, then falling
To the beat
Of felonious assault
,
Hard, soft meeting
Life, entering death
Arm in arm,
With rage.
In your parched desert land
As the pendulum swings
And your friends are all gone
Still you’re moving right along
Like it doesn’t mean a thing
In your parched desert land
Thinking life’s unforgiving
Why not swallow your pride
Take an honest look inside
Join the land of the living
In your parched desert land
Your manufactured death valley
Kind response was so important
Yet your manner was discordant
Isolation’s blind alley
In your parched desert land
When they take the final tally
You’ll surrender the fight
Find exquisite delight
In your brokered finale
March 9, 2020
F F I series FINALE
Brian Strand, sponsor
You're not a coward
having shown a great lack of intelligence
or common sense within arrogance towards another opinion
For that which matters deeply disturbed blocked out
hard hitting truth in evidence reads between the lines,
Micky mouse can clearly see the victim trapped
pushing false agendas that promote hate
Inside the visible truth we can see lost
closed doors behind the veil a bully in words
to speak correctly toned casting names of judgement
condemning wisdom hitting a brick wall
chained prisoner of deception
Killing every fact as if tortured behind the mask
attacking victims whom are silent ghosts
Violence towards another being is the code you live by
its easier to eat humble pie and admit defeat
there is no getting through and saving these souls
Brainwashed against the word of God
what can you say about that which matters
i tell myself i love me
and then i break my heart
i ask for forgiveness
and it restarts
i tell myself i love me
and i treat myself well
until i make one mistake
then i treat me like hell
fiddling with my
violin i can also
fiddle with my
viola in an
almost spastic
stance with head and
chin in an almost
accident rubbernecking
the accident which
has not not
only yet to
begin but will
happen
forgetting to
rosen my bow
now knowing
what the
screeching
of tires sounds
like played in
B flat major
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