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Read Poems by Randy Biffany

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Below are poems written by poet Randy Biffany. Click the Next or Previous links below the poem to navigate between poems. Remember, Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth. Thank you.

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From Pain to Purpose

   Fell on concrete bed and breath;
Eyes locked in stone;
Slot opens three times a day
To awaken one from comatose,
To slide slop into the body-
Slot Slams Shut!

   Silence is screaming…
Walls without windows closing in… 
Anesthesiologist says, count back from 10…
(Out before reaching four,)
Eight hours after cutting, I awake!
I hear them!! But, cannot move!!!
My guts are still hanging out!?
“I can hear you! I can feel you!”
I cannot move or speak.
“He’s waking up, I hear. Give him more…”

   Hours later suffocating in an ICU bubble
Blurred image of my mother and father
Hovering over me like angels desiring to take on my suffering.
I reach, “Help me, I hurt!!!…”

   That was the beginning of knowing pain for me.
The rip from my mid back to my stomach
Cut me to the core inside and out.
I was only five years old.

   Now, locked in a box for hours, days on end with
Liberty stolen and hate boiling for a punishment undeserved.
Kicked around in madness of mind by your
Constant companion, the devil who laughs hysterically
At your confinement and refinement of his hatred

   While Jesus sits by weeping offering just
A faithful hand, a brush-stroke out of reach;
Until the cell door rolls open, Hatred!
Callous guard yells, “Get up you!
You’re going to see the judge.”  Fool.

   “Time served Mr. you,” says the judge.
But she was only tickling the fancy
Of God’s overall pleasure in setting me free.
25 years, true love of life lived well, 25 years surviving hell, now,
25 years to fulfill God’s dream for me.

   So much glory and unimagined pain
All worthy and good.
Combined and administered and 

   “I kept you alive through your addiction nightmare:
Ten gran mal seizures, accidents, suicidal tendencies
Liver failure, blood poisoning and guns at your head,
So, you could keep others from facing that dread.

   "Now get up, get out and get to work My son.
My light is on in you so don’t waste the shine.
Those who are falling through the cracks
Whom I desire to be with me, are being refined.
Go, gather them up, it’s what you shall do.
For the benefit of others and the good of you.”

Randy A. Biffany
Voice of a Vagabond

Copyright © Randy Biffany | Year Posted 2017


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